#s: lilith's cord

[megumiivs]

office hours ♡

T.A.!choso x student!reader

mdni 18+ content

ೃ⁀➷ content: p in v, creampie, praise kink, dumbification if u squint, no plot ¡! ❞

how did you get here, bent over the desk, face pressed into the wooden desk and legs spread open like a whore for him? for choso, your T.A. you had come for office hours for fucks sake. but god, the way he was pounding your cunt was too good to make you care about your grade. the homework in your bag all but forgotten. papers that were previously organized neatly on the desk were messily strewn all over the floor, a result of choso’s harsh thrusts.

“fuuuckkk” he groaned, slowing down and pulling out to look down at the ring of white around his dick. “so fucking good, baby. you’re such a good fucking girl.” he slowly slides back in admiring the way your pussy sucked him back in. god, his head was spinning from the feel of your tight, hot pussy. “taking me so well, baby.”

the praise makes you whine as you tighten up around nothing. he slides his hands over your chest, touching and massaging your boobs as he begins to pick up the pace, angling his hips so he could go deeper. you moan at the feeling, bucking your hips back eagerly to meet his thrusts.

“more, cho, please” you cry out. “don’t stop, dont stop.” god, he was so deep. you can feel him hit your cervix with each thrust. the only thing on your mind right now was his thick hard cock that was filling you up so well.

“ ‘m not stopping baby” he responds, reaching one hand down to rub your clit in small circles. “tight ass pussy. ‘s like you were made for me.”

he lifting your left leg up to rest on his shoulder. he pushes back in, bottoming out with one harsh thrust. god you were so full of him you could feel him in your stomach.

you whine again, the tell tale feeling rapidly approaching. you couldn’t do anything but moan is name over and over and over. what were you even here for again? you didn’t know anything anymore. all you knew was choso. his name was a mantra spilling from your lips.

choso leans forward, mouth close to your ear and whispered, “be a good girl and cum for me sweetheart.”

your vision goes white as the cord snaps and you cum. choso groans when he feels your walls tighten. he fucks you through your orgasm, hips starting to stutter as he begins to reach his own high. he thrusts a few more times before he asks, “where?”

no response. you were truly fucked dumb. “where?” he grunts again, trying not to cum too early.

“inside, choso, inside” you respond with an embarrassing whimper. “please, need you” choso groans at the thought of filling you up to the brim and after two more thrusts, he does just that, his cum spills into you in thick hot ropes, painting your walls white.

“take it all baby.” he pants out, working through his own orgasm. “don’t waste a single drop.”

you dumbly nod, too fucked out to truly process what he was saying. he slowly begins to pull out with a groan and you can feel some of his cum begin to drip out of your pussy before he reaches down and pushes it back in with his fingers.

“fuck that’s hot.” he says. you can’t do anything but lay there on the desk, breathing heavily, body sore and brain fried. choso presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“so what did you need help on?”

lilith’s note: lil test work i wrote instead of studying for my midterm whoops!

#˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ lilith’s love #jjk choso #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x female reader #choso kamo #choso x y/n

[copias-girl]

To Catch a Cardinal: Chapter IX

A/N: Don’t @ me if you can’t actually make a multi-way call on a rotary phone! Reader uses ✨satan magic✨ to make the aesthetic work lol

All chapters here <3

•♥︎𖤐♥︎•

“Yes!” You exclaimed to yourself when you were handed a package by the Mail Ghoul, smacking a kiss right onto the cheek of his cold metal mask, leaving a glossy lip print that surely had the Ghoul blushing and swaying his tail in excitement. You had online ordered a brand spankin’ new bikini, and it had finally arrived. Thanking the Ghoul and closing the door to your room, you impatiently tore the package open, holding up the scandalously tiny scraps of black fabric.

Smirking kittenishly, you hopped onto your bed, laying on your stomach and dialling a few numbers on your ornate black vintage rotary phone.

“Hello?” Mable answered.

“Please hold!” You chirped, patching in another call.

“Hey girlie, what’s up?” Lilith picked up next.

Soon, you had all your girlfriends on the line, chatting while you kicked your feet back and forth on the bed and twirled the telephone cord around your finger.

“Sooo, the sleepover the other day was really fun.” You started.

“Yeah, I bet it was, with your little plaything there.” Emily laughed. “I can’t tell if you kinda like him or if you’re just leading him on for the fun of it.”

“Ooooh, we should speculate on that! Maybe cast bets?” Ava giggled.

“Did you guys hear that? That was the sound of my eyes rolling.” You smirked, giving nothing away. “Anyway, the reason why I called is because I just got my new bikini in the mail! Anyone fancy a beach day?” You asked excitedly.

A chorus of thrilled squeals came through the telephone, and you had to hold the receiver a little away from your head to keep from getting your eardrum blown out.

“You always have the best ideas!” Ava gushed.

“We should invite Rob! I’ll call him right after this!” Emily decided, and this time you hoped the sound of your eyes rolling wasn’t audible through the phone.

“There’s only one problem…” Mable spoke up. “Who’s gonna drive us? It’s shopping day and some ghouls took two groups of siblings to go into town. So they’re using both cars. She explained.

“I think I can get us a ride.” You smirked.

“Oh don’t you go asking that stupid Cardinal!” Emily pleaded, but you were already dead set on your decision.

“Don’t forget sunscreen!” You grinned mischievously, dropping the phone onto the hook with a click!

•𖤐•

A devilish smirk found its way onto your face when you spotted Copia strolling down the hall towards his office. He wasn’t wearing his biretta today, and you wondered if it was because you told him that you liked his hair at the sleepover. You skipped up to him, startling the man by tapping his shoulder.

“Oh! S-Sorella!” Copia gasped, wide eyes nervously darting all around, finding it difficult to look you in the eyes, especially since the kiss at the sleepover.

You just looked so beautiful; Copia didn’t want to get all hot and bothered, and it felt as though he really didn’t know how to act around you. You kept reeling him in with your sweetness, intoxicating him by lavishing your gentle attention on him, but whenever the poor man would start to get comfortable, you’d do something to keep him on his toes.

At the sleepover, you had called him out twice for having a boner, which, admittedly, the Cardinal felt very ashamed about. You’d called him a pervert and made him feel bad, yet you continued to stay near him and even cuddle with him during the movie. Your words didn’t match your actions. He couldn’t tell if you were calling him ‘Rat’ as a pet name or an insult. You were giving poor Copia mixed signals that he didn’t know how to decipher, and the more the dwelled on it, the more confused he got.

“Hi Cardinal.” You coyly twirled a lock of your hair around your finger. “Um, I have a question?”

“S-si?” He asked, swallowing nervously.

“Do you have a car?” You enquired.

“Eh? W-well ehm, y-yes I do.” The Cardinal answered. “Perché?”

“Well, I know it’s a lot to ask but, could you drive me to the beach?” You pouted, and Copia just couldn’t say no to those big doe eyes as you batted your lashes at him.

“Of course, Sorella.” The timid man nodded.

“Oh, you will? Are you sure??” You asked, and he nodded again, a pitiful little smile creeping onto his face at your excited disbelief.

“Thank youuuu!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you hugged him.

Copia’s cheeks burned, his body stiffening, gloved hands shakily daring to rest on your waist.

“You really come in clutch, don’t you, Cardi?” You teased, pulling away just enough to look at the man while your hands smoothed over his chest, toying with the hem of his pellegrina.

Copia averted his gaze with a shy little chuckle, staring down at the floor.

Curling a finger under his chin, you lifted his head to meet your gaze once more, intimidating the poor little mouse by silently studying him for a few moments.

“Come have lunch, then we can go.” You took his hand in yours and pulled him towards the dining hall.

“O-okay..!” He followed you like a pathetic puppy dog, blushing furiously as you held his hand.

•𖤐•

“It was like… so weird.” Lilith remarked.

“So she kissed him?” Rob asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, but only because Emily dared her to.” Ava clarified.

“Yeah but… She, like, straight up made out with him for a minute. With way too much tongue.” Mable winced.

“Well why’d you even dare her to do that in the first place?” Rob asked, crossing his arms. It looked as though he was upset that he wasn’t there to protect you.

“She told me to give her a gross dare so I did!” Emily defended herself with a shrug. “It’s not like I dared her to swallow rat man’s entire tongue for fuck’s sakes! I thought she’d suffer through a quick peck and move on.”

“Okay but get this: afterward, she even asked him if it was his first ever kiss and he said it was! He’s fifty years old! And he’s never been kissed! Let that sink in!” Lilith giggled.

“I believe it! I mean, have you seen the guy?? It’s not like the ladies would be lining up to kiss that.” Rob laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“I know right? It was so weird though because then she was all over him during the movie.” Emily wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Yeah but it was a horror movie, and you know how she gets. When we watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre that one time, she was constricting around me like a serpent!” Mable pointed out.

“I think I’d rather get jump-scared all alone rather than have to cuddle with that pathetic old loser.” Emily snorted, causing Rob to laugh.

“Nema to that! He’s such a little creep about it too! I think I even heard her calling him a perv!” Ava added.

Lilith gasped. “Eww! He was probably getting off on it! He probably had a raging bon-”

•𖤐•

You didn’t let go of the Cardinal’s hand until you had pulled him into the chair next to you as you sat at one of the long tables with all of your friends. You caught the tail end of the group’s conversation, and you could tell they’d been gossiping about you and Copia. You wished you’d been there to hear the full thing; you would have paid actual money to see Rob’s reaction when he was told about you sharing a heated kiss with the rat man.

The table went quiet, your friends clearing their throats awkwardly and looking amongst themselves.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. What were you guys talking about?” You mischievously enquired, taking one of the honey brioche buns out of the basket on the table and buttering it.

“Well, nothi-” Ava murmured, averting her gaze but getting interrupted by Rob.

“Oh hey, lover boy!” He greeted the Cardinal condescendingly. “Did you enjoy getting your jollies from that pity-kiss? Must have been some first, huh?” He sneered before turning to you. “Did you wash your mouth out with bleach, afterwards? Or maybe rat-poison?”

Copia’s breath caught in his throat. Poor thing, his face was as red as the raspberry jam on the table. His dichromatic eyes were pitifully wide, mouth hanging open in utter surprise while the humiliated flush on his cheeks spread across the bridge of his nose and to the tips of his ears like wildfire. He was hurt by Rob’s words; it wasn’t like that at all! He wasn’t getting his jollies from you. It wasn’t his fault that his body reacted so strongly to you; he really did feel terrible about it, but he just couldn’t help the effect you had on him.

You let Copia flounder for a bit before having mercy on him, swooping in to save him.

“Be nice, Rob.” You tutted, gently running your fingers through the soft hair at the base of Copia’s neck, as if he was your little pet. “Co-Co’s the one driving us.”

Everyone rolled their eyes, grumbling quietly while the Cardinal‘s wide gaze snapped up to you upon hearing your cute nickname for him.

“Well, do you guys wanna go to the beach or not? Because Cardinal and I can always just go by ourselves.” You offered casually.

“Aw come on, sweetcheeks!” Rob laughed. “I’m sure your little rat can take a joke, right?” He asked, holding his hand out to Copia.

Like a good sport, the Cardinal nodded, reaching to shake hands, but Rob only scoffed and pulled away just before Copia could take his hand.

“Too slow!” He laughed.

Your poor Cardinal meekly folded his hands in his lap while your friends snickered, congratulating Rob on his cruel trick.

“Could you pass me the cherry jam please?” You asked, giving Copia a little nudge.

The blushing man nodded, nervously reaching for one of the jars on the table and sliding it over to you, his eyes repeatedly flicking to you before staring down at his lap once more.

You opened the jar, tsking in disappointment. Strawberry.

Taking a little spoonful, you turned to Copia. “Does this taste like cherry to you, Rat?” You asked, a bit condescendingly, hooking a finger in his collar to pull him closer as you fed it to him.

The Cardinal’s eyes widened in alarm at his mistake.

“M-m-mi dispiace, Sorella!” He stuttered apologetically, scrambling to get you the correct jar.

“Thank you, Cardinal.” You smiled sweetly at him, dipping your spoon into the tart cherry preserves and holding it up for the man to taste.

With pathetically wide eyes and a quick self conscious glance at your friends, Copia nervously accepted the spoonful, his tongue swiping across his lower lip to catch a drip of the glassy red liquid.

You made a little show out of licking the rest of the sweet cherry nectar off the spoon, and from your peripheral vision you could tell your friends were all staring, unsure of how to react. A wicked little smirk tugging at your lips, not missing the way Copia’s flush deepened as he watched you lave your tongue over the spoon he’d just had in his mouth.

“Mmm so sweet, isn’t it?” You hummed, gazing at your Cardinal while he nervously nodded, stammering out a quiet agreement.

“Well, I’m gonna go get changed and I suggest you all do the same too.” You stood from your seat, placing a hand on Copia’s shoulder. “We’ll meet you out front?”

“S-si, I-I go and, ehm, get the car and- S-si.” He affirmed.

“Don’t forget your swimsuit!” You reminded him in a sing-song voice before slipping off towards your room.

Not wanting to be stuck alone with your friends, Copia awkwardly got up and scurried off to his room.

•𖤐•

You slipped on your brand new bikini, smirking in the mirror at the perfect fit before putting some summer clothes on top. You pulled on your Widow Rat cropped tank top, some black cut off shorts, and your chunky black platform sandals, the ones with the cobweb detailing and the spider ankle clasp. Of course, you had your usual black nail polish on your fingers and toes, and the look couldn’t be complete without your grucifix ankle bracelet.

You grabbed your black beach bag, throwing in your black and white striped towel and coppertone sunblock, snatching your batwing sunglasses on the way out the door and placing them on top of your head.

You strolled to the grand main door of the ministry, meeting your friends who were also all dressed in summer clothes, Rob even holding a black and white beach ball under his arm. You chatted for a while until you heard the sound of keys jingling and clattering to the floor, and you knew your little disaster Cardinal was near.

You turned, seeing the man pathetically fumbling to pick his keys off the ground while balancing a boombox on his shoulder. You grinned endearingly, your eyes sweeping over his form. And he was wearing a different getup for once! You’d only ever seen him in his cassocks, but now he was wearing some sort of burgundy track suit with a t-shirt underneath that said VVLGARI. He had on a different pair of black gloves, ones you suspected he used for casual occasions like this, yet he still wore his dress shoes which looked quite awkward with a sweatsuit.

“Oh, we can listen to music on the beach! Good thinking, Cardinal!” You chirped, and Copia’s nervous expression softened at your excitement. He set the radio down, his painted eyes flicking up and down your body, biting his lower lip at your exposed midriff, arms, and bare legs.

Copia swallowed thickly, trying not to gawk at you like a creep. Smoothing his fingertips over his moustache, he cleared his throat. “I-I- ehm, I like y-your, eh-” He stammered, gesturing to your chest.

“My what? My breasts?” You asked in coquettish confusion.

“N-no! T-that’s not what I-”

“You don’t like my breasts?” You pouted, batting your thick lashes and looking hurt.

The Cardinal’s eyes widened in alarm; he hadn’t intended to insult you! “No no, I-I do! V-very much!” Goddammit, now he was sounding like a creep! “Er-! I-I mean! T-that is not what I- ..I mean- I wasn’t t-trying to, ehm- W-well, what I was t-trying to say, eh-”

You crossed your arms in amusement, watching him struggle to keep his head above water.

“M-mi dispiace, Sorella, I was t-trying to say that I liked your t-t-t-”

“My what, Rat? My t-t-t-tits?” You teased him further, taking a step closer to the poor, distressed, pitiful man.

“Y-your top, Sorella!” Copia finally got it out, red-faced and out of breath from being so tongue-tied.

“Oh! My top!” You giggled in realization, glancing down at your crop top and the image of the rat on it. “Thank you, Cardinal.” You grinned at him, twirling a lock of hair around your finger. Of course you knew what he’d been trying to say all along. Satan, you had the idea to wear that top because of him, because you knew he’d like it. But there wasn’t a more delicious sight than watching poor flustered Copia strain against his own nervousness.

“What a weirdo…” Emily murmured to your friends, shaking her head disapprovingly while the others exchanged whispers of hushed laughter.

“I, ehm- I will go get la macchina..” Copia fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie for a moment, stealing another timid glance at you before heading outside.

You and your group followed and waited on the front steps of the abbey, basking in the warm sun while he went to get his car. In no time, Copia was pulling up in his white 1969 Buick LeSabre, and you all put your bags and the cooler of drinks in the trunk.

“Slick ride, Rat.” You smirked as you slid in shotgun, pressing up against Copia on the bench seat. Lilith got in next to you, while Mable, Ava, Emily, and Rob squeezed into the back.

“G-Grazie..” He blushed, gloved hands tightening their grip on the wheel as you placed a hand on his thigh, under the guise of steadying yourself to make more room for Lilith.

“You can always sit back here if it gets boring up there.” Rob offered.

“I think it’s pretty tight back there.” You turned him down with a smile.

“You could sit on my lap.” He suggested.

Copia’s worried gaze quickly snapped over to you. He felt selfish and foolish for thinking it, but he really didn’t want you sitting on Rob. Copia knew from first-hand experience what would happen, because when you had sat on his lap in the car, the poor Cardinal got so worked up that he came in his pants!

“Thanks, but I feel perfectly comfortable right here.” You replied, daring to rest your hand on Copia’s thigh once more. The Cardinal exhaled shakily in relief as you put his worries to rest. With a timorous little smile at you, he started the car and your road trip to the beach had begun.

•𖤐•

Driving was smooth and streamlined due to the clear and open road. A comfortable silence had fallen upon you all, so you occupied yourself with gazing dreamily at the Cardinal as he drove.

He was a surprisingly good driver, and seeing the sweet man like this only caused your hot passion to swell for him even more; the way he attentively checked his mirrors, eyes wide and focused on the road, licking his lips every so often. You wished you could lick his lips again. Ever since you kissed Copia at the sleepover, you’d had the most insatiable craving for his delicious lips, inexperienced as they may be. Perhaps you’d make out with him again, this time with the clever excuse of letting him use you to practice kissing. He’d feel so terrible and ashamed of himself; a kind young thing like you piteously having to do charity work for a pathetic 50 year old virgin. You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle a wicked grin. Oh, how you longed to nip at him and tease him and overwhelm him with your affection.

You sighed softly, biting your lip and studying the man’s delicious profile; his sharp sideburns, thin moustache, the lines on his face. His pointy, rat-like nose caused the corners of your lips to curl into an endearing little smile. Copia always had a pitifulness about him, but it seemed to be accentuated in this moment as he concentrated on driving, his eyes flicking over to you every so often.

You leaned forward to pop open the glovebox, deciding to snoop around to pass the time. Copia watched as you poked around through his things, finally discovering his music stash. You looked over the selection, grinning at the 1960s Italian tunes, an ABBA tape, and- unholy shit, is that-

“No way! Repugnant and Acid Witch??” You held the tapes up ecstatically. You rifled through more of the cassettes, noticing that your sweet little Cardinal’s music taste was actually very heavy.

“I didn’t know you were a metalhead, Rat.” You giggled, reaching over to pinch at his cheek.

The man smiled bashfully, a pink blush causing his freckles to become more prominent.

“You, eh, you like that?” He glanced at you before flicking his eyes back to the road.

“Satanas, do I ever!” You sighed dreamily. “They’re two of my favourites! I’ve literally gotten noise complaints from blaring Acid Witch late at night. And I think I annoyed everyone by replaying that one random ‘yeehaw’ in Voices of the Dead.” You recounted with an amused giggle.

“Ah! Si, si, I always liked that part!” Copia chuckled. He was genuinely relaxed for once, nearly all of his nervousness melting away. He was delighted to discover that you shared his taste in music. Oh, he could feel himself falling even harder for you. And the fact that you were speaking to him like he was a real person meant the world to him. Poor Copia was so used to people brushing him off at best or insulting him at worst, so it was beyond refreshing to have a conversation where someone wasn’t constantly making backhanded jabs at him. He loved the way your eyes lit up as you enthusiastically spoke with him, inching a bit closer to him on the bench seat and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. It felt as though your friends weren’t even there; hell, the whole world faded into the background as he grew more comfortable with you.

For a moment, Copia even dared to think that he kind of felt a little bit cool. He was- what did the young people call it nowadays? Vibrating? Yes, he was vibrating with you!

“I’m surprised you don’t like something a little more melodic. You know, something you can actually fuck to.” Rob chimed in with a sniff. He had attempted to play it off as a joke, but a slight annoyance was detectable in his voice, no doubt from the fact that you and the Cardinal were hitting it off so well.

“On the contrary! The very best love-making happens when death metal is playing.” You smirked.

Copia’s breath hitched in his throat as he did a triple-take at you, his lips parted and cheeks furiously flushed as he gaped at you for a few moments before having to tear his eyes away and stare at the road again.

“I think the Cardinal would like to agree, but he’s a little too inexperienced on the matter.” Rob sneered, causing your friends to erupt into laughter, covering their mouths and playfully swatting at Rob in congratulations for his joke.

Aaaand there it was. Relaxation? Gone. Coolness? Not even in his vocabulary. Thanks to Rob so kindly pointing out his pathetic virginity, Copia was now back to being the ashamed, humiliated loser whom everyone made fun of. He didn’t even look over to see your reaction, too scared to find you stifling giggles.

After a few moments of silence, you twisted the cap off a water bottle to wet your whistle. However, after taking a drink, the small piece of plastic slipped out of your fingers, bouncing and rolling and finally falling somewhere under the seat.

“Satan in Hell…” You grumbled, handing the opened bottle to Lilith next to you.

“Oh- Ehm, do you want me to-” Copia began to offer, but you only shook your head.

“No, just keep driving, I’ll feel around for it.” You replied, bending down and hooking your arm under the seat.

In fact, you were bending down so far that your head was right in Copia’s lap, your cheek pressed against the bulge in his pants. The man’s mismatched eyes were as wide as cherry pies as he stole a panicked glance down at his lap, already feeling himself growing aroused.

You fished around for the cap, huffing in annoyance when you couldn’t feel it. You reached deeper under the seat, burying your face in Copia’s rapidly hardening cock.

The Cardinal prayed to Satan that you wouldn’t be able to feel his growing erection pressing firmly into your face, and he resisted the urge to grind against your cheek, his breaths beginning to quicken as his heart hammered in his chest.

“What are you doing??” Emily asked.

“Ew, it looks like you’re sucking him off.” Lilith laughed, catching Rob’s attention in the backseat.

“I dropped the stupid water bottle cap and I’m trying to feel around for it.” You murmured, voice muffled by the fabric of Copia’s sweatpants, your words sending vibrations of pleasure through him.

Oh, you looked gorgeous like this, so gorgeous with your head buried in his lap, your tresses of hair flowing all around. The man’s cheeks were on fire as he tried to keep himself calm, tried to steady his breathing. The last thing he wanted to do was cream himself, but it was so difficult when he kept picturing you pleasuring him with your sweet mouth.

Just when the Cardinal felt as though he couldn’t take it anymore, your fingertips finally grasped the cap and you sat upright once more.

“Got it!” You held it up triumphantly before screwing it back onto the bottle. You caught Copia’s gaze, smirking kittenishly at him as mischief twinkled in your eyes.

The Cardinal swallowed thickly, attempting to stabilize his trembling hands on the steering wheel. This was only the car ride. How in Satan’s name would he survive the beach?

𖤐 to be continued 𖤐

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[battle-of-alberta]

The ask box is closed (temporarily!) until 2024.

Please direct any burning questions via DM or to my main blog @allbeendonebefore or art blog @acetechne. I am catching up on about 15 asks over the holidays and would like to clear the box out before I start on any new projects.

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This is an ask blog for personifications of Canadian cities Edmonton and Calgary as well as a handful of their friends around the province. See brief bios below!

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My main blog is @allbeendonebefore. I go by Hapo (she/they) and I am running this blog primarily from Treaty 6 Territory (Edmonton). My background is primarily in classics, information and museum studies; I am not a historian, but I do have historical training and interest.

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Edmonton | Edward Murphy Masterpost | Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes Begrudging capital of the province and self-proclaimed black sheep, Ed represents an eclectic mix of blue collar oil culture and government service. When he’s not trying to escape the gravitational pull of 1980′s nostalgia for Gretzky and The Mall or snarking his way through question period at the legislature, Ed enjoys partying hard at festivals and long bike rides in the river valley.

Calgary | Calvin McCall Masterpost | Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes Largest city in the province and fourth nationally, Calvin’s youthful energy and optimism is tempered by a conservative streak and a preoccupation with being taken seriously as a major city at home and abroad. He is most famous for his annual Stampede celebrating the romantic wild west... contrary to his actual upbringing in the mild west!

Red Deer | Elaine Hartley Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes The city halfway between the provincial powerhouses, Red is either fuelling up vehicles, people, or both at once in Gasoline Alley. Maybe if people stuck around after emptying their bladders or filling their stomachs, they’d discover she has more to offer than her delicious home cooking!

Lethbridge | Lilith Sheran Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes The former financial hub of the province and former American whisky fort, Lilith has transitioned from a gritty coal mining past to the laid back lifestyle of a university city. Although she is one of Canada’s windiest cities, she rarely has a hair out of place.

Fort McMurray | Reginald “Mac” Buffalo Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes An isolated hamlet at the heart of the Regional Municipality of Wood Buffalo and the Athabasca tar sands, Mac is a tough, working class rig pig. Behind his massive pick up truck, corded muscles and defensive nature is a shy guy (and a big fluffy Newfoundland/husky mix dog, Patches).  

Medicine Hat | Madeline Hargrave Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes A sleepy retirement community and overall ray of sunshine, Madeline usually takes a back seat in the provincial conversations and prefers to work on her own projects. Famously referred to as having “all hell for a basement”, Madeline’s wealth in natural gas and electricity continues to light her way.

Grande Prairie | Josephine Cardinal Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes A fast growing industrial city, Josephine’s hot temper and no-nonsense attitude occasionally conflicts with her romantic perception of herself. She is very proud of being a northern city with a surprising number of amenities and is more than happy to share with her neighbours.

Banff | Eleanor Crandell Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes An internationally famous mountain resort town, Eleanor is usually busy hosting and entertaining visitors from abroad (as well as Calvin every weekend). When not attending to guests, she is as down for skiing and wilderness hikes as she is for the buzzing shopping and nightlife scene.

Jasper | Jasper Swift Bio | Relationships | Trivia | Notes A former fur trading post turned heart of a national park, Jas tends to be a little more laid back than their counterpart in Banff but no less popular. A little quieter and wilder, Jasper’s claim to fame is their cozy cabin culture and annual Dark Sky festival.

Other Municipalities

Strathcona | Edith Garneau: Former municipality representing Edmonton’s south side and the University of Alberta campus, Edith is typically found inhaling copious amounts of cuisine on Whyte Ave or rehearsing for Fringe Fest when not plotting the downfall of the government.

Bowness | Caroline Cochrane: Former municipality representing Calgary’s northwest, Caroline represents what used to be a popular recreational spot for day-tripping Calgarians during the early 20th century. These days, she is usually trying to organize community fundraisers with themes beyond “western”.

---

St. Paul | Paula: Small town originally founded as a Metis settlement, Paula’s current major attraction is the centennial UFO landing pad (with accompanying UFO Hotline, naturally.)

Vulcan | ? : Small town originally named for the Roman god of the forge, now capitalizing on their reputation as Star Trek Capital of Canada for obvious reasons.

Drumheller | ? : Small town in the Alberta badlands famous the world over for fantastic fossil finds, many of which are housed at the nearby Royal Tyrell Museum.

Cardston | Orson Card: Small town founded around one of the most northern locations of Mormon Temples in North America. Orson is a polite and sincere (if unsettlingly so) fellow who helped build southern Alberta’s irrigation system.

Sherwood Park | Marion Clover: A bedroom community east of Edmonton and one of the largest population centres in the province despite technically being a hamlet. Marion is a refined lady (pun intended) that supervises one of Western Canada’s biggest industrial zones.

---

Missing a character? While my goal is not to personify every municipality in the province, I will occasionally reference others. Keep your eyes peeled!

#ask blog #hetalia ask blog #hws oc #hetalia oc #iammatthewian #projectcanada cities #pc: edmonton #pc: calgary #pc: red deer #pc: lethbridge #pc: grande prairie #pc: medicine hat #pc: fort mcmurray #pc: banff #pc: jasper #hapo art #digital art #clip studio paint #boab illustration #edward murphy #calvin mccall #elaine hartley #lilith sheran #josephine cardinal #madeline hargrave #reginald buffalo #eleanor crandell #jasper swift #boab announcement #pinned post

[gnosticreign-a]

an astrologer who once hailed from mondstadt, liesel was gifted her vision from a young age, and learned how to predict the future. while initially using it to predict the best methods to ensure a rich harvest, she has since learned how to use it in order to turn up a profit. not for herself, really, but for her family who now lives in sumeru.

PRIORITY: testing

IMPORTANT INFORMATION

this oc has been sitting on my head for a hot minute, and really, she’s designed to be both a rival and a foil to mona. i’m also okay with plotting them as romantic partners or exes.

profile information under the cut.

THE BASICS

full name: liesel krantz aka: astraea candelae, the priestess of the pyre, the flame fortune teller age: 24 gender & pronouns: female & she/her orientation: bisexual, preferring women species: human ethnicity: mondstadtian occupation: fortune teller & astrologist residence: sumeru

PHYSICAL

height: 5′0″ hair: blonde eyes: blue scars: n/a tattoos: n/a piercings: n/a notable traits: baby face, typically wears mondstadtian clothing when not “open for business”, wearing more sumeru-based garbs when working face claim(s): yun ( lilith’s cord )

PERSONALITY

birthdate: october 31st zodiac: scorpio positive traits: generous, humble, kindly, willing to aid the poor negative traits: despises “holier-than-thou” types such as nobility, can be rather forceful with her generosity, can be quite blunt

PHYSICAL

physical: no obvious flaws phobias: being kidnapped or having her family threatened eyesight: 20/20 drug use: n/a alcohol use: rarely, typically for special occasions

PERSONAL LIFE

parents: fabian krantz & emilia heinz siblings: n/a pets: a yellow seelie known as “luna”

SKILLS AND ABILITIES

seeing the future. with her pyro vision, liesel is able to see the future to a certain degree. at first, she’d used it to aid her family’s farm; now, she uses it to make a profit for her family’s future.

sword and catalyst proficiency. her father taught her to use a sword to defend herself, but to use a catalyst felt so much more freeing. nonetheless, she makes sure to stay in practice.

pyro vision. after her parents had a terrible crop, she overheard them crying; the next morning, she woke up with a vision in her tiny hands.

#( masterpost ) #— ❛❛ // 𝐢. 𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗹 ¦ ᵃ ʳᵉᵍᵘˡᵃʳ ʳᵃᵍˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᶦᶜʰᵉˢ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵍᶦʳˡ ・ 「 ic post ! 」 #— ❛❛ // 𝐢𝐢. 𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗹 ¦ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵐʸ ᵖᵃˢᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵃ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗ ・ 「 musings ! 」 #— ❛❛ // 𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗹 ¦ ˡᵉᵗ ᵐᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵇʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵎ ・ 「 headcanons ! 」 #— ❛❛ // 𝐢𝐯. 𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗹 ¦ ᵃ ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠᵃⁿᶜʸ ʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵘʳᵗ ・ 「 wardrobe ! 」 #— ❛❛ // 𝐯. 𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗹 ¦ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶦᵗ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶦᵐᵖˡᵉ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵘʳᵉˢ ᶦ ᵃᵈᵒʳᵉ ᵎ ・ 「 aesthetics ! 」 #— ❛❛ // 𝐯𝐢. 𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗹 ¦ ʷᵉ ᵃˡˡ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵒᵘʳ ᵒʷⁿ ᵗʳᵘᵗʰˢ ・ 「 fc: yun ! 」

[ofviolentdeathmuses]

name: Niamh “Nia” Miner

what: Half demon, half angel

age: Appears early 30’s

birthday: October 1

occupation: Healer

location: Ruby Hill, Nevada but travels a lot

faceclaim: Tabrett Bethell

status: Selectively open to au

relationship: Married to Dex

parents: Cordae Miner, father estranged

siblings: Robert, Lilith, Dex (adoptive), Evangeline and Raven, Judas, Frey(adoptive), Cain, Darcy and Gideon, Leora, Lex, Scout, Seth, Arioch, Dainn, Damaris, and Angel

kids: Rhiannon

Nia is, for the most part, a sweetheart. She goes out of her way to make sure people are okay and has a weakness for lost kids. She was raised almost entirely by just Cord but has very little of her mother’s recklessness or attitude.

When she had Dex turned 18, they decided to go out on their own and explore the world. They still visit fairly often, but they mostly live on the road.

Other Info Threads Face Drabble

#guest #oc #nia #niamh

[untowonder-gone]

if i offered icon comms,  including material i’ve already bought like lilith’s cord,  s. flower,  etc,  and manga cap coloring,  would anyone actually be interested?

like i probably wont offer making banners and such,  but just like icons

#⋆⁺₊⋆ 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 ›› ㅤ ❝ the writer is a marionette

[abyssjungle]

are you stll hung up with that ?

#lilith's cord #riel #ch: riel #s: lilith's cord #by us

[cadaverchoir]

#lilith's cord #s. lilith's cord #edit. mine #henlo u smelly

[ofviolentdeath]

Muse Stats::Gideon

Name:  Gideon Miner Face: Alex Gaskarth

What: Demon Duties: Freelance writer Age: Early 20′s

Gideon is a cheeky little shit, but that’s to be expected given that his parents are Cord and Lilith. He’s always down for chaos or a good fight, but mess with his siblings, especially his twin, and it’s all bets off. There is nothing that matters more to him than family. 

He writes interest pieces for magazines and websites when he feels like it. He likes the freedom that and it gives him plenty of time to do whatever with his family or help out around the bar.

{This will be added to at a later date, just getting a few basics out of the way}

#gideoncanon #muse stats #gideon #temp bio is subject to change

[kingizumi]

Get to know me tag

I was tagged by @dviantxsoul

Rules: Tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better!

Top 3 ships: (looks out into the ocean and sighs.....”only three?”) 

Kirishima x  Ashido (MHA), Maki x Kaito (Danganronpa), Sanzo x Gojyo (Saiyuki).

Lipstick or Chapstick: Both

Last song I listened to: Tekken 3 Arranged OST: Ogre & True Orge 

Last film I watched: My Hero Academia: Hero Rising

  Currently reading: (Uhhhh does um... Lezhin stories count cause I have lots.) No Holes Barred, S Flower, The Good Teacher, The Blood of Madam Giselle, Blood Strangers, Gilgamesh, Lilith’s Cord, Painter of the Night, The Lady and her Butler, Sexercise.

What shows are you currently watching: Dr. Stone, My Hero Academia, Food Wars, Fruits Baskets (remake <33333) 

Uh not sure who to tag really o//o um *shrugs* if someone happens to see this you can do it I guess o-o

[leons-ass-gives-me-life]

Whumptober Day 7 - Isolation

Jack was so utterly terrified of that nothingness he begged on his knees. So, was it crueler to kill him or trap him in that void?

Years of isolation can break a man, or an AI 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A split second of utter panic, a yanked cord, a flash of blue, and it was over. Jack had lost. The ruins of his office were replaced by endless dark, an empty void. It was everything he had feared.

No...no no nonono NO! Please!! Rhysie please let me out! I’m sorry! Please!!!

Jack screamed, but it made no sound, he was trapped. Trapped in a soundless, sightless....nothingness... He wanted to hit something, but there was nothing to hit. He wanted to yell and rage, but he couldn’t speak. 

He wanted...he wanted...he wanted to go back.

He wanted to go back and change it all. To never threaten Rhys or take control, to never bring out the endoskeleton, to fix things. He wanted to fix everything. Go back even further than Rhys maybe, make peace with the Vault Hunters instead of attacking them, keep Angel safe without a cage and wires, not airlock those scientists...

Save his wife...

But he couldn’t do a damn thing. Nothing at all. Because there was nothing, nothing but the dark and his thoughts. For once he wished he didn’t talk so much, cause now his thoughts were making up for his inability to talk, the void wasn’t silent, not really. 

Not with his damn brain...

Eventually his brain drifted back to Rhys. Oh Rhys... A better man than he ever could’ve been. The kid had gone through so much, yet he never wavered from his beliefs, his ideals, he refused to give up on his friends, or to give them up. Even when they betrayed them, he still found it in him to forgive and move on. Maybe not forget, but still, he managed to never hold a grudge. No matter what they did.

Something Jack had never mastered...

He hadn’t been lying when he told Rhys he was proud of him. The kid had impressed him, his determination rivaling Jack’s own. Though he guessed that at that point Rhys wouldn’t’ve appreciated that comparison...

Man he really fucked this one up didn’t he?

How long would he float like this? Isolated in the dark, alone with the void, with the pain, the loss, the regret, the guilt, the...the...everything.

Lilith was right...he was a monster.

Monsters like him deserved to be punished right? Was this his punishment? His version of hell? Good. He hoped Rhys never plugged him back in. He didn’t...

He didn’t want to ruin anymore lives..

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

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

Those last moments ran through his head again and again and again. He went through every option he could’ve taken, everything he could’ve said but didn’t. The 3 words he should’ve uttered..

Now he would never get to.

He thought he was hallucinating when he heard the voice. Could AIs even hallucinate? It didn’t matter, because next thing he knew light was flooding the dark. It had been so long...this...this couldn’t be real. But it was.

That voice...he knew it...but...from where?

White light morphed into vague shapes, and those into something the AI could recognize. Boxes? A desk? Computers? Where was he?

“It...it worked...”

There was that voice again. He could figure out where it was coming from now, right behind hi-

No. No it couldn’t be.

Jack had turned so fast he swore he would’ve gotten whiplash if he wasn’t a hologram. It felt like he did though, he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.

Rhys...Rhys was standing before him. Except, he looked...Different. 

His weird striped shirt had been replaced by a simple black button-up, the top ones undone to show off inked blue skin that Jack had never seen before. The kid had replaced his arm too, the new one a sleek silver chrome instead of the boxy yellow old one. 

And his eye. It was gold now.

“R....Rhys?”

The kid-no, no he wasn’t a kid anymore. Not after everything...everything Jack had put him through. Regardless, Rhys smiled softly and stepped forward, reaching out to gently cup Jack’s ja-

Wait. Wait that shouldn’t be possible. Rhys’ hand should be slipping through him. He was just a-

He...he wasn’t a hologram. 

Jack lifted his new hands, wiggling the fingers in awe as Rhys’ thumb brushed over his very, very real cheekbone. “How..” Jack gasped, lifting his eyes to Rhys’, “H-how is this happening? Why-why am I back? I shouldn’t be back. You shouldn’t....you should’ve....”

Rhys’ hand...it was so warm against his skin...

Jerking back, Jack shook his head in confusion, “You should’ve left me there. I don’t-I don’t deserve to be back.. Th-the dark...it’s where...it’s where monsters belong...”

Shudders wracked his body, broad shoulders slumping as he curled in on himself, stifling weak sobs with a hand, “It’s where I belong....” Tears fell to the floor, was he crying? He hadn’t shed real tears since....since Angel.

New knees met hard metal, Jack’s legs buckling, the memory of Angel’s death pushing him over the edge into a chasm of despair. He was drowning, sinking in a sea of pain and guilt.

Then a life-vest was thrown over his head.

Strong arms wrapped tight around him, pulling Jack into a warm, safe embrace. Gentle fingers carded through his hair, a velvet voice whispering soft words of comfort in his ear. 

“It’s okay...It’s okay, Jack. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore.”

Sobbing openly, Jack buried his face into Rhys’ chest, hands fisting in the young man’s shirt for desperate support. “I-I-I’m sor-r-ry, Rh-hys...” He gasped for breath, choking on his tears and pulling back just enough to look up at Rhys.

“I-I’m s-so sor-rry...”

That calm smile returned, mismatched eyes boring into Jack’s, but he didn’t feel threatened, he felt... Safe. Lips brushed against his skin, that smile taking on new meaning as Rhys lifted his chin with a gentle touch, 

“I love you too, Jack.”

#whumptober #Whumptober day 7 #isolation #whumptober 2019 #whump #angst #Rhack #regret #guilt #tw self loathing #sobbing #tw mentions of death #borderlands #Handsome Jack #rhys strongfork #rhys the company man #rhys the ceo #jack ai

[doom-dreaming]

The Sound of Silence

The gifts of a Vault aren't always appreciated.

(WARNINGS: Suicide, Major Character Death, Vomiting) (Note: This ties into a larger Borderlands fic I have in the works, albeit with a different ending.)

Read it on Ao3 here!

******

“FIONA!”

The gunshot echoed off the surrounding cliffs, ringing in Rhys’ ears. She seemed so far away, caught between his eyes and the barrel of the shotgun. A second seemed like an hour as the bullet sliced through the heavy air. Rhys couldn’t look away. He just stood there, feeling frozen, cold, like all the blood had left his body. She was going to die. Fiona, a Vault Hunter, his friend, his lover...was milliseconds from death.

He could see her twisting away, trying to dodge, but she wasn’t going to make it. He knew it was futile, to reach out to her, to scream her name again, as if that would somehow save her. He did it anyway. Why couldn’t he have been closer? Pushed her out of the way? Taken the bullet himself? No, he was helpless to do anything but watch. The slowly-advancing bullet would bury itself into her skull, directly between her eyes. Those beautiful green eyes. And then she’d be gone. Dead.

Something foreign welled up within him, filling his veins with heat. She didn’t deserve to go out like this. Not now, not ever. He wasn’t going to let that happen. As soon as this thought was firmly anchored in his brain, time suddenly seemed to catch up with itself. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, feel his muscles straining as he stretched across the sand toward her.

And that’s when it happened. All at once. A sharp crack, louder than the gunshot, ricocheted off the stone walls of the canyon. The ground between Fiona and the gunner trembled, then exploded, tossing up a dervish of sand. Fiona was thrown to the side from the force of the blast, and Rhys watched as the bullet whistled harmlessly past her ear. The man holding the shotgun stumbled backward with a grunt, but didn’t lose his balance. Horror and anger boiled in Rhys’ blood as the gunner steadied himself and lined up another shot at Fiona, now lying dazed and defenseless in the dirt.

With a scream that felt like it shredded his vocal cords, Rhys sprinted toward the other man. Instantly, the gun’s muzzle swung around, level with his chest, and Rhys raised his left hand in reflexive defense, even though he knew it would do nothing to stop a bullet. Only he proved himself wrong because the shot never came. As soon as he opened his palm, a wave of piercing heat lanced down his arm and half a second later, hell broke loose. A ripple of energy pulsed across the short distance separating Rhys from his almost certain death, hitting the gunner with a blinding flash of light. Electricity crackled, filling the air with the sharp scent of ozone and smoke.

And then it was over. No light, no supercharged air…no gunman. Rhys stared at the ground where the man had stood. There was no body. No blood. Only a thin sheet of glass in the sand and a few dissipating wisps of smoke. Rhys’ chest was tight, his head was swimming, he felt so nauseous. The world spun in front of his eyes as the heat in his arm ebbed away, leaving behind an equally painful cold. It felt like liquid nitrogen was being injected into his veins. Burning and freezing simultaneously.

He was barely aware of Fiona muttering “what the hell” before he crashed to his knees and pitched forward, throwing up a paste of half-digested drakefruit. God, it hurt. Everything hurt.

Footsteps crunched toward him. “What did you do?!” Fiona demanded. “What the hell just happened?!”

He could only shake his head as his stomach flipped again, forcing hot, bitter acid up his throat. He gagged, spitting it out onto the sand, gasping for breath. “I...don’t know...I think I...killed him…”

Fiona knelt down and ran her fingers over the glass. “Well, whatever that was, it was hot enough to do this…” She stared at him, then pointed. “Look, Rhys.”

He glanced down at his chest. Brilliant blue glowed back at him.

“I’ve got to take you to Sanctuary. Now.”

There was absolutely no sound from beyond the door. Even the air in the hallway seemed motionless. She reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly. “Rhys...?” The hinges creaked as she pushed the door open, loud amidst the silence. The room on the other side was dark, and she could barely make out a shape slumped against the far wall. A waft of stale air hit her, dusty and sour. She grimaced.

“Rhys? Hey...” She focused on the familiar silhouette, trying not to stare at the faintly-glowing patterns pulsing across his skin. “Lilith and Maya said...” She trailed off, choked by the sudden lump rising in her throat, and wished her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dim light.

To say he looked bad would have been a terrible understatement. No, he looked dead. His clothes, normally so clean and precise, were rumpled, haphazard, and stained. His skin was ashen, his hair was tangled and unwashed, his lips were chapped and cracking. His eyes seemed to have sunk into his skull and he stared straight ahead with an unfocused, glazed expression, as if he wasn’t aware of her presence at all.

She swallowed, taking a step closer.

In a sudden flurry of motion, he was on his feet, backing away. His eyes, now focused, were wild, glinting in the low light, darting around the room. From her, to the door, back to her.

“Rhys...?”

He just shook his head frantically.

She held out her hands to him. “Rhys, it’s okay—”

“D-d-don’t. P-please.” His voice was hoarse, his breathing labored. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? You saved my life...” She started forward again. “Why would you—”

“S-stop, please, just—just stop,” he pleaded, still shaking his head and backing away from her. “Fiona, p-please...” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Please...please...”

Her gut clenched as he looked up at her, desperation evident in his eyes. “I...don’t get it,” she admitted softly.

Rhys forced out something between a laugh and a sob, but didn’t offer any other answer; just kept shaking his head. After a long minute, he drew in a ragged breath and broke the tense silence. “I can’t control it.” He raised his left hand; slowly, looking at it with distant eyes.

Fiona could only watch, mesmerized by the erratic flashes of bright blue that twisted down her lover’s arm.

“Can’t control it,” he repeated, softer, more to himself.

“But aren’t—”

“NO! You don’t get it.”

The change of tone was enough to snap her out of whatever daze she’d fallen into. He was staring directly at her, and for the first time, she felt something cold creep into her chest at the sight of his mismatched eyes. The intensity and focus unnerved her. He looked...dangerous. Feral.

Yet it passed in an instant. Almost so quickly that she wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it.

“You know about Jack’s daughter,” he began, voice soft, once again watching his arm with that far-off expression. “She was a Siren, too. You know what she did?” He glanced up at her briefly. “She killed her own mother. When she was just a little girl. Because she couldn’t control what she had!”

Just like that, the edge was back and Fiona found that she was the one stepping away this time.

“You saw what happened to him. The man who...” He cut himself off with another strange noise. “There wasn’t even enough of him left to leave a bloodstain...” Again, he made eye contact, but it wasn’t like before. All Fiona could see this time was pain. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

“It won’t, Rhys—”

“You don’t know that!” he barked. “You...you can’t p-possibly know t-that.” He took a few shaky steps backward and collapsed against the wall. “I’m s-sure Angel loved her m-mother...a-and yet...that wasn’t enough t-to keep it from happening, was it!? Sh-she killed...” He dissolved into tears before he could finish the sentence, sliding back down to the floor.

Fiona drifted across the room, falling weakly onto a couch, feeling totally helpless for only the second time in her life. Only this time was somehow worse than the first. The man she loved was literally falling to pieces right in front of her and so far, she hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it, despite being here, with him, capable and willing. Lilith had said he hadn’t eaten since that incident out in the Badlands. That had been three days ago.

“Rhys.”

Nothing but sobbing.

“You’re going to end up killing yourself,” she whispered.

“S-so let it h-happen,” was the broken mumble. “You’d a-all be b-better off...”

She drew in a sharp breath. “You have to help me understand. Please.”

He blinked up at her, tears glistening on his face.

“When Helios crashed, people died. What makes one man so different from all—”

“Because it was me,” he cut in. His voice was surprisingly level. “Helios was Jack’s fault. But that man out there in the desert? I was responsible for that. I…vaporized him. I didn’t even have to touch him! It’s inside me, and I don’t want it—”

“He was trying to kill me, Rhys!” she countered, standing again. “You weren’t going to let that happen! You were protecting me!”

“I don’t want this!” he screamed. “It hurts, okay?! It feels like I have acid in my veins and I would gladly bleed myself dry just to make it stop—” He doubled over onto his hands and knees with a moan, gagging up nothing but raw air and bile.

Fiona couldn’t watch. She shut her eyes and waited until the coughing stopped to open them again. “Tell me how I can help.”

He didn’t answer for a long time. Just stayed there on the floor, shaking, sobbing, looking so small. “You can leave.”

“I’m not leaving—”

“Fiona...p-please.”

She shook her head firmly. “I know you think there’s no way out of this, but you’re not doing yourself any favors by—”

“I already told you!” Hysteria was starting to creep into his voice. “You’re not safe around me!”

“I am not going to leave you here like this—”

“Get out!”

“I love you, Rhys!”

“GET. OUT!”

A hush fell over the room as they stared at each other. That same animalistic intensity was back in his tear-stained eyes, but this time, it didn’t scare her. It broke her heart. He truly thought he was taking care of her. Slowly, she backed toward the door. He didn’t say anything, just watched her go.

The click of the latch was too loud in the quiet and she simply stood there, her heart pounding against her ribs. She'd never seen him in so much pain before. And what made it worse was the fact that it wasn't only physical pain. This was deeper. This was something she couldn't heal. She was losing him because he hadn't wanted to lose her.

Setting her jaw, she turned back, grabbing the doorknob. She couldn’t let him do this to himself. They hadn’t come all this way to—

The knob wouldn’t turn. "Rhys?! Rhys!" She tried again. Still stuck. “Dammit, Rhys, I won’t let you do this! I’m going to get Lilith!”

There was no answer. Even his crying had quieted. However, she heard one last hitched sob before a deafening gunshot pierced through the thick air. When her ears stopped ringing, all she could hear was silence.

****** Tag List: @corpseyb0nes @afterthedreamer @mischiefsilvertongue @marigold-magpie @tricerathotss @vanderlinde-exe @ayilachan @zipp0flare @luxury-of-insanity @omgzakoko

#borderlands fanfiction #rhyiona #tw:suicide #my writing #rhys the company man #fiona the con artist #siren!rhys #rhys x fiona #before you @ me about the angel story: #i know jack was probably 100% gaslighting #and it wasn't angel's fault #but rhys wouldn't know that #he'd only know what he'd heard around hyperion

[jcmorgenstern]

Morgencest number 24 , ( if you wanted to do all the numbers I wouldn't mind)

24. Dom/Sub. Okay I’mma be real with you anon I did say I wasn’t accepting morgencest prompts but god I really love d/s for them and have been wanting to write this oneshot anyway SO here we go. you, uh, get what you pay for, i guess.

warning for like……Morgencest, in lethal combination with my brain. Set maybe a couple weeks after 3x18, completely and blithely ignoring the plot, any and all consent issues of the bond, and pretending Clary ate some really weird shellfish that didn’t agree with her and woke up a jonathan stan (and really thirsty, apparently).

Jonathan lowered the teacup carefully onto the side table next to Clary’s chair, taking great pains not to spill any. The teapcup rattled against its saucer as he placed it on a coaster, setting down the sugar bowl and a silver spoon beside it. “I made the Earl Grey,” he said, when she did not immediately turn to look. “I wasn’t sure how much sugar you like, so I put in two. But there’s more tea or sugar if you don’t like it–”

“Thank you, Jonathan.” Clary cut him off, looking up from the fireplace. He had to push down on a reflexive smile as her gaze fell on him, raking down his body. He’d agonized over what to wear for what felt like hours, and had finally settled on a slim pair of black slacks and a sweater that showed off his waist, as Clary liked. She patted her knee, gracing him with a smile. “Come on. Sit down.”

Jonathan hesitated, just for a second. The heat of the fire on the back of his neck, as well as the high, haughty spires of Lilith’s favorite chair sitting next to hers brought a memory to the surface, of sitting on Lilith’s lap as a child. She loved to hold him like that, like a real mother, to comb his hair and kiss his forehead like he was a baby.

He forced out the breath that had stuck in his chest, crossing over the brocade rug to lower himself carefully onto her lap. Clary grinned, scooping an arm under his knees and swinging his legs up over the chair’s arm. They’d gone and bought the largest armchair they could find, a huge, soft red-leather thing studded with bronze hardware that could easily fit both of them sitting side by side, for this very purpose. Jonathan leaned back against the other arm, tipping his head back so that it pillowed on the chair’s cushion, and let Clary push his legs further apart, teasing at his inner thigh. “How was your day?”

Clary smiled, pressing an insistent kiss to his lips. He chased it, tasting the aftertaste of chocolate on her tongue. He’d brought her back a choclatine from Paris after she’d portaled him there, and she’d devoured it with all the enthusiasm of last time. “Productive. I think I may have found a way to suppress the barometric drop when the apartment moves. It’s an old, simple spell, but any two-bit warlock should be able to do it. It should keep the Clave off our trail, at any rate.” She reached for her tea. “Also, I did a lot of online shopping and played a couple hours of runescape. The wifi here is incredible.”

“With 128 down? It better be.” Jonathan gamely accepted a sip of her tea as she raised it to his lips, then gave a mock frown. “But I can’t believe you went shopping without me.”

Clary laughed. “I promise you’ll like what I bought. But it’s a surprise.” She pushed at the hem of his sweater, pulling it up over his stomach and trailing a fingertip over his bared skin. Jonathan flinched—it was so unbearably good, the tickle of her touch just like the gentle lick of fire. “One of them is even for you.”

Jonathan looked up, too fast, unable to suppress the reflexive high of for me? “That’s just teasing,” he said, pulling his mouth down into a pout. “You know I’m horrible at having patience.”

“That’s what makes teasing fun,” she replied, snaking a hand up his shirt to pinch one of his sensitive nipples. He gasped, arching up his back and wriggling helplessly in her lap. He loved it when she did this, reach through the bond and give him exactly what he needed. He’d noticed the reactivity of his body had changed as the bond grew stronger—for starters, satisfying Clary had the unexpected perk of unlocking consecutive orgasms–but it was more than that. His body came alive for her, sensitive in ways and places it hadn’t been before. His stomach, his chest, his inner thighs, the backs of his knees, the sides of his neck lit up at her touch. Before, a touch to his back brought to mind his father’s belt buckle bruising his bones for disobedience. Now, he had hazy mornings of Clary’s hands roaming over his back and tracing over his vertebrae to fight back with.

“Just a little hint,” he begged, holding onto her hand. He wasn’t ashamed to beg for Clary, not anymore. She loved to give him what he wanted, to feed it to him with her fingers and let him lick them clean. He cracked the bones of whatever morsels she gave him, sucking at the marrow, gnawing them clean. He was good like that.

“No hints,” Clary said, and kissed him again. “But I will show you what I almost bought you, but didn’t.”

Putting down her tea, she pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen, then held it out so he could see. On the screen was an elegant woman wearing a long, coral-colored dress. The material was light, arid, diaphanous, like something the seelies would spin. Silk petals, pink and blue and white lined the open shoulders and translucent sleeves, scattered over the expanding skirt from the pulled-in waist. She looked beautiful, her fine bones and far-off expression giving the impression of alabaster.

Clary giggled. “Because you’re my princess in a tower. Get it?”

Jonathan looked up, into her eyes. They were a golden brown, like mead or whiskey, and twice as intoxicating. “I love it.”

She bumped his nose, fondly. “Yeah, well, be glad I didn’t actually get it. For starters, it’s nearly two thousand USD.”

“You don’t have to actually buy it.” He was full of energy, all of a sudden, buoyed by the concept. He sat up, or at least attempted to–he’d relaxed to the point of bonelessness, the constant tension bled out of his body. “I can wear it for you.”

“You…actually want to?” Clary sounded a little surprised, but not incredulous. She touched his cheek, smoothed his mussed hair. “You don’t have to, sweetheart. Unless you want to.”

Jonathan wanted. He wanted to feel her eyes on him, knowing she’d picked it out especially for him. He wanted her voice in his ear, saying that’s my little princess. He wanted to be anything, everything she desired. “Of course,” he said, swinging his legs off the armchair and sitting upright. She let him take her phone as he stood, turning his back to her as he studied the dress, taking in every detail. Then, breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes and drew on the wellspring of dark inside him, letting the picture in his mind’s eye paint itself over his skin.

Clary sucked in a breath and he knew it had worked. Something intensely scratchy was tickling his chest, and he opened his eyes to rub at it. The bunched tulle neckline fell a few inches under his collarbones, showing off the curve of his shoulders. The bodice was tight enough that it was taut over his chest, clinging down to his waist, the bunched cuffs a bit tight around his wrists. Jonathan turned, tentative, and the skirts whispered and swayed around him.

Clary was looking at him with rapt attention, her eyes sweeping up and down and all over him and he basked in the attention. She stood and approached, careful not to step on the hem of his dress, touching his waist. “You look beautiful,” she said, and there was a measure of reverence in her voice that made Jonathan’s blood heat. She pulled him in for a kiss, his skirts swishing around her legs. Jonathan melted into her, sighing as her hand brushed the buttons running up his back. Her hair brushed his face, cool and soft, and Jonathan shuddered at the intimacy of it. “How would you like to thank me for your rescue, princess?” she asked, pacing behind him to breathe the words right against the shell of his ear. “On your knees, or on the bed?”

“Yes,” Jonathan gasped, then felt himself flush. “Er, on the bed,” he corrected himself, and Clary gave him a pinched little smile that suggested she was trying very hard not to laugh. She slid a hand over his shoulder, her rings dragging on his skin, and he shuddered again, unable to keep a sound from escaping his throat when her hand slid up his neck and gripped the base of his skull—not hard, but firm.

“Good,” she replied, shortly, and Jonathan’s breath caught in his chest. If he hadn’t just said he wanted it on the bed he would have dropped to his knees for her then and there, however she wanted him. “Now be a good boy while I restrain you.”

Before Jonathan could point out that there was unfortunately no rope in the apartment, Clary snagged her phone charging cable off the table and held it up, looking triumphant. Jonathan extended his wrists eagerly, hissing as she bound them up tight, lacing the ends up together and pulling hard. The cable dug into his skin and he loved it, the harsh ache whenever he moved his arms or his fingers, the black cord obvious against the pale fabric of the dress.

“Should I try to bridal-carry you to the room?” Clary asked. She grinned, pulling at his waist. “I bet I could carry you.”

Jonathan was quite sure she could. He was also quite sure he was flushing at the thought. “As long as you promise not to drop me.”

She pushed up on her toes to kiss him. “No promises.”

Before he could protest she’d dug through his skirt to his knees, scooping him up with a profound oof. There was a bit of staggering and a bit more swearing, but at last she hoisted him aloft, a bundle of skirts. Jonathan put his arms around the back of her neck, holding himself aloft. After a lot of staggering, swearing, and laughing, Clary deposited him onto the bed. Jonathan met her enthusiasm with his own, scrambling up the mattress to let her clamber on after him. It hurt with his wrists tied but he didn’t mind the pain–if anything, it was making him more eager.

“You came for me,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself, as if it were nearing midnight and his stagecoach was about to turn back to a pumpkin. Clary had watched all the fairytale films with him, curling up with him in the armchair and holding him close. He’d cried more than once, moved by the simple magic of the stories themselves. But more than that, he’d gotten back a piece of their childhood that had never existed—a magic unto its own.

“I came for you,” Clary replied, and cradled his cheek in her hand. It was warm, calloused and rough from months of intensive training, and he leaned into the touch. He’d caught himself on his elbows and Clary had crawled over his legs, propping herself up over his chest, rustling his skirt with every movement. He could feel her breath on his chest, her hair trailing over his sides. She was right there, flesh and bone and real, and Jonathan hardly dared to believe it. And more than that, she was smiling, looking like she’d gotten something she really wanted. Looking at him. Among all the other myriad things she’d chosen in life, from clothes to toothpaste to the placement of her runes to the knife she’d stuck in their father’s throat, even for a brief period she had chosen him.

“Roll over for me, princess,” Clary whispered, and Jonathan obeyed, settling back against the pillows and turning onto his side. She pulled away and nudged his conjoined hands and he stretched so that they were propped up over his head, putting a pleasureable strain in his shoulders. He lowered himself onto his stomach, flushing with heat as Clary pulled at his skirts, exposing his legs to the cold air. Her weight shifted on the mattress as she reached into the bedside table for her harness—her first present to him. It clanked and jingled against the wood as she pulled it out and fastened it around her hips—he could just make out her movements over his shoulder, and he could feel his anticipation mounting. If he hadn’t known it would get him a reprimand, he would have rubbed his hips and chest against the bedspread. As it was he was impatient, yearning to scratch the itch, to do anything.

Clary gave his thigh a smack, as if reading his mind. “Patience,” she said, firm without being hard. Jonathan stilled instantly. Boundaries were always difficult, always invisible and shifting, but Clary was very good at giving them and he was learning with great eagerness to color inside the lines. He waited until she was ready, hardly able to contain his sounds of excitement as she grabbed his ass. “You prepared for me, didn’t you?” she asked, sounding impressed as she removed her rings to probe him easily with a finger. She rewarded him with a little kiss to his back, between his shoulder blades. “Good boy. Do you need anything else, or do you want to take me as you are right now?”

“Now,” Jonathan gasped out, into the pillow. He’d tightened up since he’d prepared after getting home to the apartment and made Clary her tea, but he’d slicked himself with plenty of lube. Besides, he loved nothing more than a little roughness.

Another smack, sharp enough to make him cry out. Clary had a mean slap when she wanted to. “Now, please.”

“Now, please,” Jonathan repeated, unable to keep a little of what she called ‘sulking’ out of his voice. The back of his thigh stung, as did the reprimand—he hated more than anything to do things wrong, dare he make her angry—but a softer touch to his shoulder told him all was forgiven.

“Then get on your back for me,” Clary instructed, her voice dripping in dark honey. Jonathan obeyed, wriggling around so that he was on his back. His wrists were starting to ache and he dress had twisted around his legs—how did anyone move in these things? She managed to find his knees and push them apart, but the mess of skirts was getting in the way, falling in Jonathan’s face. He batted them away, impatient, as Clary drew one of her kindjals and sliced through them like taffeta.

Jonathan exhaled, shakily. “I thought you were going to cut me with that,” he said, giving her one of the looks he knew she liked—the little smile through his lashes. Playful, she called it.

“And I assume by that you mean you wouldn’t be opposed to it?” Clary sheathed the blade and Jonathan watched, hungrily, as her shaft moved with her. She gave him a teasing smile, pushing the ruined folds of the dress away from his legs. He liked that smile. “Maybe just a little cut. If you behave.”

She spread his legs wide, making his breath hitch. Being open, vulnerable—he liked it as much as he liked the edge of fear it brought. Clary always seemed to know what she wanted with incredible precision, but he had no such luxury. Want and hurt felt like they were separated by a knife’s edge, so easy to mistake one for the other. Jonathan was very good at making mistakes.

“Remember the word if anything gets too much,” Clary said, softly. “Repeat it back to me.”

Jonathan swallowed, meeting her eyes. They were calm, steady, everything he didn’t feel. “Lemondrop,” he said. Bittersweetness filled his mouth, the memory of the first candy he’d ever had. His father had taken him to the shadow market for business, and he’d stolen one of the enticing yellow things when his father wasn’t looking. He still remembered the overwhelming awe and wonder he’d felt as the flavor had exploded in his mouth, so intense he’d nearly spit it back out. He’d nursed the candy in his mouth until it was gone, and thought wistfully of it for months, when he was back in the cabin eating tasteless cereal and dried meats so hard they made his teeth hurt if he didn’t soak them in water first.

“Good,” Clary replied, then rummaged for a moment in her pocket, pulling out her favorite tube of lipstick. “Hold still,” she said, then opened it up and gently smeared it over his lips. It was soft and silky and she traced his mouth carefully, molding the lines as she would one of her paintings. Once she was done he reached up to touch it, but she slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch it, it’ll smear,” she said, then leaned in and kissed him, slow and messy, and he could feel her lips moving over his, smearing the lipstick over both their faces.

When she pulled back, arranging his legs around his waist, he could imagine the mess they’d made of his own face, and smiled. It felt territorial, marking him as her own, as claimed. Taken. No one could dare profane artwork she made on him but her, not even himself. Jonathan sighed in satisfaction as she lifted his hips off the bed, pulling them towards her ownjust enough so that he could rest on her knees, spread wide for balance. Her jeans were rough against his bare skin but he loved it, the feeling of her clothes against his skin, craving the smoothness of the leather of her jacket.

Without fanfare, Clary leaned forward and pushed into him. Jonathan made a wordless sound, less a cry than an exclamation, pressing his head back in bliss as his pulse thundered in his skull. Yes, yes, yes—every inch of her was perfect, pulling him apart. The ache stung more sharply than he anticipated, but he’d asked for this, to feel deliciously abused as she pushed inside. With his bound hands he grabbed at the wrought iron headboard, pulling on the bars hard as Clary worked her way into him. What had seemed like a copious portion of lube now seemed like hardly enough, but still he bucked his hips, weakly, trying to push himself deeper, though he had to be careful. Too much pain and she’d feel it too. They had to ride that knife’s edge separating his pain from hers.

She smiled at his desperation and put two fingers to his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

He closed his lips around her fingertips and sucked, pushing the tip of his tongue against her nails and the ridged pads of her fingers. She bottomed out with a jerk and Jonathan moaned, grateful. To his great shame his eyes were watering with the incredible strain and pressure. “Clary,” he tried to say, but it came out garbled and muffled.

Clary rocked her hips and Jonathan felt himself whine as pain turned to pleasure. Every time he felt it was too much, like magic, the ache turned into another kind of ache, an ache and hunger for more. She leaned into him, bracing her arms over his shoulders, her hair falling down around her face, and Jonathan whimpered again at the shift. Then she moved, and Jonathan felt that pure, perfect drag inside him and moaned, all the world falling to pieces around him. Clary’s hand latched around his throat just as he liked, cutting off most of his breath. She’d lectured him on how it was dangerous, that this wasn’t the safe way to choke him, but he’d begged and wheedled until she’d given in and let him have the perfect build of oxygen burn.

She fucked him until he felt so raw it ached and burned and Jonathan begged silently for release, challenging herself as much as torturing him. “Clary,” he managed to gasp out, a plea and an exhortation and an exclamation all at once, and she slowed the brutal pace. She’d thrown off her jacket and was glistening with sweat, letting him marvel at the taut definition of her muscles, the hard determination in her eyes and the set of her mouth. The same determination she’d worn when she’d cut off the Seelie’s head and wrestled him out of his chains, grabbing his hand through the restraint jacket and saying, in a tone that allowed no other option, “Run.”

Clary pulled her hand away from his throat and Jonathan fought to hold his breath, obstinate. Spots were playing over his vision and he could feel himself arching off the bed as if possessed; Clary swiped her hair out of her face and twisted her hips up—

Jonathan gasped as the floodgates burst, sucking in a dizzying wave of oxygen. Clary gasped, too, his ecstacy spilling over into her, overwhelming in the resonance between them. Jonathan arched and groaned against the sheets, pulling at the bedframe hard enough that it gave a tortured creak. His burst of pleasure lapsed into waves of hers; she pulled out and unhooked the harness, crashing down beside him to lay in the aftershocks. Jonathan curled up against her, feeling the press of her body on his back and her arm around his waist, the unsteady rhythm of their panting falling into unison.

Jonathan felt himself lulled into sleep, dipping down into the undercurrent of slumber. Clary stroked his hair, absently, reaching down to untie his hands and massage feeling back into his wrists. He sighed, utterly content, and let his bare skin ripple over the ruined dress.

“Already?” Clary teased, her voice thick and heavy with fatigue. She kissed the back of his neck, tucking a stray bit of her hair out of his face. Her body was warm, strong, like a heavy blanket. “And here I was just about to go for round two.”

Jonathan chuckled, re-arranging himself on the pillow. Everything felt soft and warm—the pillowcase, Clary’s shirt, her skin against his own. “For that, I’m afraid you’re going to have to rack up another life debt. Lucky for you, I happen to like being your damsel in distress.”

“Only if you always dress like one.” Clary’s hand teased his hip, down over his thigh. He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m talking a staple wardrobe of crop tops and miniskirts, and lots of lip gloss. I can take you to Urban Outfitters tomorrow. Insta baddie looks only.”

“Only if you promise to get that strap-on that looks like it’s chrome-plated,” Jonathan mumbled back. His eyelids felt weighed down as if in quicksand, or if they sealed with glue. If Clary kept petting him like that, he wasn’t going to last another minute. “My knight in shining armour, and all that.”

Clary gave an abrupt laugh, her stomach moving against his back. She pressed her face into the pillow, still laughing, then tucked her hand back around his waist, pulling in close for a hug. “Now I know I said no hints about your present that I just ordered, but…I think you’re going to like your surprise.”

JESUS GOD it’s done. I hope you enjoyed!!! Anyway if you want to see Jonathan’s dress here it be!

#crispy chat #friend anon #morgencest #crispy prompt fest 2019 #oh my god it's DONE HSLKDJFghghhghghhg #my writing

[mangaeden]

Lilith's Cord 63

#manga #manga cap #liliths-cord

[ofviolentdeathmuses]

name: Gideon Miner

what: Demon

age: Appears 20’s/30's

birthday: February 14

occupation: Part time bartender/freelance writer

location: Ruby Hill, Nevada

faceclaim: Cody Carson

status: Single Verse

relationship: Single

parents: Cord and Lilith

siblings: Ciel, Phenyx, Balthazar, Robert, Viola, Lilith (not the same as his mom, dad had a daughter with that name before meeting his mom), Niamh, Evangeline and Raven, Judas, Frey, Cain, Darcy (twin brother), Leora, Lex, Seth, Scout, Dainn, Arioch, Damaris, and Angel

kids: None

Gideon is a cheeky little shit, but that’s to be expected given that his parents are Cord and Lilith. He’s always down for chaos or a good fight, but mess with his siblings, especially his twin, and it’s all bets off. There is nothing that matters more to him than family.

He writes interest pieces for magazines and websites when he feels like it. He likes the freedom and it gives him plenty of time to do whatever with his family or help out around the bar.

Other Info Threads Face Drabble

#guest #oc #gideon

[auraned]

rules: tag nine people you want to get to know better

tagged by: @lucrecia84 (Lucrecia-sama Q_Q)

relationship status: well i had only one boyfiend 3 years ago, now i`m alone *cries*

favourite colour: green

lipstick or chapstick: i`m not a fan of both. chapstick for winter?

last song you listened to: Jeremy Soule - Wings of Kynareth 

last movie you watched: ....well, i watched TV Poirot. I really don`t remember when i watched a film at all.

top 3 characters: currently i would say Kylo Ren (Star Wars), Solas (Dragon Age) and Gleb Beybarsov (Tanya Grotter)

top 3 ships: currently Kylo Ren/Rey, Gleb Beybarsov/Janna Abbatikova, Shikamaru/Temari.  

books and manga you are currently reading: textbooks, Lilith`s cord, Skip Beat and other which i can`t recall

top 5 musicals: I only saw  Notre-Dame de Paris.  

Maybe @justloveuddup @shock777 @these-are-the-first-steps

#meme #me #about me