#this fandom is just too small to vague blog like that man

[the-arkaives]

WELCOME TO THE ARKAIVES!

NOW PLAYING: curses - the crane wives “OOH, LAY MY CURSES OUT TO REST! MAKE A MERCY OUT OF…”

WHAT ARE THE ARKAIVES?: so, I realized that suddenly, i was no longer the only person who had Miss Kai Drew rotating in my brain. now, I may be the only one with her doing so 24/7, BUT THERES OTHER PEOPLE NOW-

The Arkaives are your one stop shop for the small little Kai Drewniverse Fandom! you’ll get cannon posts from me, and then the other arckaivist’s fucking BANGER ass “fannon” posts (GUYS I AM EATING THAT SHIT UP KEEP IT COMING)! it’s just a way for this tiny ass community to thrive :]

HOW DO I BECOME AN ARKAIVIST?: simple! reach out to me, say you wanna become an arkaivist, and then BOOM! you’re in! but if you’re a fucking douchebag/asshole i am NOT afraid to kick you out. this is a silly funtime blog, and if you bring bad vibes i am kicking you out. also don’t argue with me about cannon. I’m the author i know what I’m talking about 🤨‼️

WHAT CAN I POST AS AN ARKAIVIST?: you’re allow to post anything as long as it is vaguely Kai related! like, saw something pink and yellow? KAI DREW REFERENCE POST IT‼️‼️‼️ (<- fun fact: actual way i make going out in public fun instead of nerve wracking) it doesn’t even have to be just Kai! got ideas about relationships between Kai and ‘x’ character? POST IT! that’d probably be helpful for me writing nmk/kai in hf stuff, as I’m always a biiiit afraid of mischaracterizing the people of Hatchetfield in the fanfics. But, like, Kai lore isn’t just Hatchetfield! believe me, i forget too, but she’s in a shit ton of fandoms! so, if you’re into one of the other fandoms she’s in? join! fair warning, though: the Kai in HF lore is ROTTING my brain, so there’s gonna be a lot of that shit-

ARKAIVIST ONE - @pastriibunz

NAME: Pastrii!! :D

PRONOUNS: she/her :]

the kai drew fan. literally. i made her!!! i made that guy!!!! the creator of miss drew, the writer of the fics, the artist of the cannon art, the admin of @shxwstxpper (and this blog too), and professional pokotho prophet (/j)! ive definetly got a better intro on my main, (and it does list what fandoms kai's in so do take a look!), but this is my little bio sooo yeah!!! :D

ARKAIVIST TWO - @skylines-turnstiles13

NAME: Max!! :]

PRONOUNS: he/him :D

MY SON!!!!! the admin of @laika-at-hatchetfield and the reason this blog exists! legit my brother in christ told me to do it and my ass was like "yes sir 🫡‼️" and now we're here! he makes some DELICIOUS ass art (seriously man eating that shit UP) and made it so our first posts were angst (all hail the boy!!!! doing what i couldnt <- was going to wait a bit for soul crushing angst- let yall get comfy b4 i fuck yall up). GO FOLLOW THEM THEY'RE COOL AF 🫵😡‼️

ARKAIVIST THREE - @chillibeanos

NAME: Chilli/Max :3

PRONOUNS: Any :D

MY (other) SON!!!! I lob them sm GAHEGEGEGVR THE SILLY!!! they also have a neato lil guy named Bean Sprout so GO CHECK THEM OUT 🫵😡‼️‼️‼️ GO FOLLOW MY BOY 🫵😡‼️‼️‼️‼️

ARKAIVIST FOUR - @raspberrysmoon

NAME: elliot/alice/(rasp)berry/ella/julian

PRONOUNS: he/him + she/her + fawn/fawns + star/stars + they/them + it/its

YET ANOTHER ONE OF MY SONS!!!! I feel like getting added to this account just means you become one of my sons- silly little guy!!! they’ve got a more in depth intro too- FOLLOW THEM RIGHT NEOW 🫵😡‼️

ARKAIVIST FIVE - @christianchasity

NAME: Kacie!! :>

PRONOUNS: she/they

im literally neuerodivergent and a minor? but ayways im the rp expert because i ave 12 different accounts and i have 3 years of expeirence.... but i also have the tism and adhd and i am the grace chasity fan okay tats it love you consually an platonically!!!!

#tkwdlm #kai drew #the kai who didn’t like musicals #tgwdlm #the arkaives #starlit songbird #the guy who didn't like musicals #kai drewniverse #kai in hatchetfield #hatchetfield #intro post #pinned post #other arkaivists feel free to send me your bios n shit!! :D

[lazaruspitreborn]

My first introduction to Jason Todd was the Arkham Knight game. From there I became a huge fan of him.

What was your first introduction to him?

So, here's the thing, I came into the Batman fandom completely blind (for the sake of the joke, you can say "blind as a bat") like five or six years ago when the Assassin's Creed fandom kinda went numb, stale and filled with small wars and people going all the way to some very heavy language that I prefer to don't get in details.

It was around that time that an old RP partner came back to their activity and they asked me if I was open to RP with their version of Dick Grayson, whose whole story at the time was based around the lore of Owlman, he was called Nightraven instead of Nightwing. It was, according to my friend, a version of DIck that they created way before the comics came out with the whole Crime Syndicate deeper lore, and I simply rolled with it.

We had interesting threads, but they went dark again after like three or four months and I didn't know what to do, because I things were just really bad in both fandoms with people not being all too open to give chances to original characters, or cross-overs, so I vagued around for a while until I landed having RP interactions with a Tim ( @strategiic ) and they started to guide me on how to find myself along the multiverse created by the comics; they'd talk to me about the comics and what happened on them, what was considered canon and what they liked and disliked and I began to absorb it all while going after more information on my own (blessed be every single person who makes compilations of what to read for what character and place it all in a neat and easy to understand guide).

A while later I also began to have RP interactions with a Jason Todd muse ( @rxsurrxcted ) whose mun was a sweetheart and taught me as much as she could about Jason so I wasn't all lost when we wrote our threads, she let me come to her to ask even the silliest questions at two in the morning. To this very day, my main-blog and muse has a verse where he has a relationship with that Jason and they're living happily in a polyamorous relationship with the cutest, softest and most generous paramedic ever ( @goodheartedfool ) while Tim ( @nerdybirdboy ) and my other OC in my main-blog date.

It's been a wild ride for me, because there are many versions of Jason, all fundamentally the same, but each with its own flavor and twist to it, but most of all he's just a character I can understand, his anger, his suffering, his need to prove himself, the feeling of always being judged by others regardless of how much he changes and grows as a person. He's, perhaps, one of the most relatable characters I've ever seen, hopeful, but down-to-earth at the same time, doesn't take shit unless it's really necessary, he sees the hypocrisy and points it out while still being self-aware enough that he, himself, has his own amount of it, he's been through a whole lot, and yet he's there, day and night fighting to get better and make the world around him better. Jason is a man of love and passion, which can backfire as rage and anger when things get heated, since the lines are thin and blurry when it comes to him, but even at his worst, he was still doing his best with what he had and thought to be good (yes, I'm looking at the pill-head version of Red Hood who tried to help Duella Dent as much as he could and tried to give her a better path than the one she was taking for herself).

In short, I love him, because I see him for who he is. Jason isn't a symbol of Justice or Hope like Bruce and Dick made themselves be. He isn't a genious kid who has potential to surpass Batman like Tim. He has none of the baggage and early training that Damian had. He also doesn't have a high profile set parent like Steph to use as a counterpoint to his morals and beliefs. All Jason Todd ever had was a desire for love, family and a will that's a force of nature in itself, powerful enough to get him through everything life throws his way; Jason was dragged into the war Batman wages against criminals out of love for him and passion for change, he wanted to make a difference, to make things better and fairer, and these wishes remained despite everything that happened to him and all the methods he implemented to get the results he wanted.

I love him because he's, simply putting, HUMAN BEYOND THE PAGES HE'S WRITTEN IN.

#》ooc #//since your question is how I got introduced to jason i'm answering it #//now about why i decided to rp the gotham knights version of him is simply because i like the aesthetic and the duality of soft and rough #//that's show in that version of him #//i like that he looks like a walking fridge rather than a just slightly buffer version of dick grayson #//and the visible scar on the face to emphasize what he went through and trauma is a big *chefs kiss* imho #//he may not be conventionally attractive like most of his recent itterations in the comics and movies #//but he's still quite a looker; and his eyes are quite expressive in tha game #jason todd #red hood #batman rpc #dc rpc #batfam rpc #batman fandom #under the red hood #gotham knights

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

Going to copy Aster a bit here and introduce myself officially since I think ur super cool!

I’m Eren, i first watched LR when I was younger when it sort of first came out but I didn’t officially start getting into the fandom until about two years ago. My blog is pretty new though and I think I’ve only been posting about LR for roughly six months but I’m not quite sure. I’m part of the Donald Davenport hate group (lol) where we bully the evil little man (his character, not the actor obviously) which you will understand the more you watch the show.

Also, welcome to our cult, dude. You’re going to love it here. If anyone gives you any shit, dm me and I’ll help out in any way I can. All my mutuals are super nice (mostly all LR blogs) so I can give you some recommendations on blogs to follow if you would like. Are you comfortable with headcanons being sent in? If so, what sort of hc content are you comfortable with just so I know. Much love <3

Haha, thanks for thinking I'm cool! :] I was 10 when Lab Rats came out but quite honestly I don't really remember if I actually watched an episode. I have a terrible memory, especially with my childhood, but I think I can vaguely remember watching maybe an episode or two of Lab Rats back then, but yet again maybe I was just remembering all the bumpers/promos and commercials so I really can't remember if I ever watched an episode. I had begun to watch the video Keyan Carlile did on the show back in March before I decided "Hey, this seems interesting and somewhat nostalgic, I'll glance around the characters and plot for a bit" and then here I am a few months later with a blog lol for it.

Donald definitely won't be getting a "Dad of the Year" (or I guess "uncle") trophy anytime soon, that's all that I know so far but I already don't like his vibes. Some of his aspects remind me of Reginald from The Umbrella Academy, two asshole fathers with superpowered children that they mistreat. I'm loving all of the characters so far *cough cough* not you Donald *cough cough* and I have to say that Leo and Chase (I guess Spike too since my blog url is dedicated to him lol) are my favorites. And the humor of the show, as stupid and cheesy as it can be at times, still manages to make me laugh. It's very fun watching this show, it's kind of like reliving my childhood even though I'm not sure if I ever truly watched the show, but from the era of tv I remember best!

Another fun part about watching tv for me is noticing small details and writing my thoughts down, so I have about two notes worth of my thoughts and things I have noticed on my phone that I'll eventually start posting on here, and that's only for season one. At the same time it takes me about 2 hours to get through one episode when I have to pause to write stuff down and rewind a scene over and over so I'm also annoying myself when doing this

I'm feeling welcomed and comfortable in this fandom so far which is always the best when joining a new one! And I will gladly take blog recommendations. I'm fine with hearing headcanons, I would just personally request not to hear any that involve sexual or romantic situations since that kind of stuff makes me feel uncomfortable. Otherwise anything else for any characters I will gladly hear! I'm sure once I get deeper into the show I'll start rattling off my own 🙂

I really appreciate you stopping by and leaving this message, thank you!! 💖

#I truly am just a chill person so I hope that it becomes evident as I become more active on here and interact more amongst the fandom #I'll also become unhinged as I get deeper and even more obsessed with the show and comfortable on here I'm excited to be here and latch ont #I might reblog an ask meme or two so people can get to know me a bit if they want to (or anyone is welcome to ask me questions in general!) #ask

[visixv]

Imma leave a single message about the thing that apparently happened overnight.

You can block whoever you want, for whatever reason. You can shape your online experience however you want, you can create your own safe space, you can come here and enjoy your little corner with your curated content.

Blocking is not the end of the world, just, move on. Going “in real life you can’t block people” is just???? You can walk away from people you don’t like? So, yeah you can’t just press a button and block them, but you don’t have to keep interacting with them. Unless it’s a professional setting or your job, you can decide who you talk to or not.

Do whatever you want as long as it’s respectful, everyone is entitled to their own (informed) opinions, do what makes you happy.

I know we all like feeling appreciated, and I know some think of notes as validation (and I’m the first one to complain about lack of reblogs on here, but because I’ve been here for like 10 years already and this platform didn’t use to be like this, at first there were more reblogs than likes, and now it’s the opposite. Which completely sucks, and when tags break, whatever we post goes unseen for everyone but our followers and their followers if they do reblog.)

Like damn, just yesterday I went on a softblocking spree in which I blocked empty blogs and unblocked them after. Got rid of like 80 followers that way. If you aren’t gonna interact and like, nourish, this chain I don’t want you around. Go to insta instead, since at least there likes do matter, or twitter I believe?

But anyway, that was a tangent.

I do go on the tag a lot, since the fandom here is quite small, so not a lot get posted. On my main though, I don’t go on my main fandom tags. I just follow people and reblog and like stuff from them. I do not know anybody else who might follow me, unless they pop up in my activity page a lot and I might go and take a look. So I’m not interacting with the majority of peeps who follow me, and that’s okay. I know it’s not the same as getting blocked and therefore you can’t interact with content you did want to see, but again, not the end of the world, there will always be people around you making more stuff that you might enjoy. If you do get blocked by a ton of people I would certainly reconsider why that might be happening though.

I remember some peeps complaining a while ago that other people didn’t reblog their content to not upset some other people. But like? It’s not that? At least it’s not always that? If the peep blocked another peep, and the blocked peep gets reblogged by a person the blocker follows, they won’t see their content on the dash anyway.

I do think though, that if you want more interactions because you care about clout, you should also nourish that interaction chain by interacting/reblogging from other people. If we all simply liked each other’s content without ever reblogging anything nobody would get anywhere. It’s not like people will steal each other’s followers or smth by rebloggings other peeps’ content LMAO

Idk man, idk if something really specific happened because all I’ve seen are vague af posts, that could even apply to people who aren’t even interacting with others anymore and keeping to their little corner.

Sometimes stuff gets far too personal and gets dragged to the public for some reason, which isn’t ok either. Oooor semi public groups.

#cyberpunk 2077

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

I posted 205 times in 2022

That's 130 more posts than 2021!

39 posts created (19%)

166 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@andrasta14

@tangentsandbubbles

@narastories

@lordjohnwgrey

@britishguyslover

I tagged 203 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#lord john grey - 159 posts

#outlander - 115 posts

#percy wainwright - 100 posts

#lord john series - 84 posts

#john x percy - 84 posts

#david berry - 38 posts

#my random ramblings - 36 posts

#random nonsense - 21 posts

#jamie fraser - 20 posts

#anti diana gabaldon - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#given the distant state of his relationships it's not at all surprising that he formed such an unhealthy lifelong attachment to jamie

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hot take: the majority OL fandom derides Percy as not being good enough for John, but the John I’ve seen in the OL books has had me progressively feeling that it’s really John that doesn’t deserve Percy. 

Because the LJG I saw in Bees? That is not the John I loved from the LJG series. That John was flawed and hard-headed, too, but he still had a heart. 

I don’t know that I like who John has become over the years (and not just in regard to Percy). 

11 notes - Posted October 13, 2022

#4

So I’ve been a huge writing slump for basically the last two months and was reading some stuff from my wips in hopes of sparking some motivation (and I’ve fallen down the Star Wars hole again and am still weeping internally about the Obi-Wan series around the clock so I’m trying to distract myself T_T).

 Anyway, this future scene from my fic Quicksilver in the Sun gave me a chuckle so I thought I’d share it. It’s not like it gives away any spoilers, after all. lol

~*~*~*~

“Right on time I’d say,” Sir George said, relief evident in his voice as he consulted his timepiece.

Four minutes remained until noon after Percy and the general had shed their winter accoutrements and allowed themselves to be led down a hallway by a liveried servant.

“Hold on,” Percy murmured, glancing surreptitiously at the awaiting servant as he reached out to straighten Sir George’s slightly askew wig. He frowned slightly as he cast a critical eye over his stepfather’s form, even as the general wordlessly did the same for him. “Good. You’re good.”

Sir George reached out and brushed lightly at his shoulder, adding with some amusement, “Bit of rogue powder. Very smart otherwise.”

Percy craned his neck to try and look at his shoulder in concern but the general assured him all traces of errant powder were gone. “I wish I had my wig. I do hope I am not dressed too informally.”

“Nonsense,” the general dismissed evenly. “It is only luncheon. You look very well. I, on the other hand...the late Duke of Pardloe cut quite a trim figure, you know.”

“Did you know him?” Percy asked, curiously.

“Oh no, no, not really,” Sir George said, tugging a bit on the front of his tastefully embroidered waistcoat. “I knew of him, of course.”

The servant cleared his throat quietly. “Shall I announce your arrival, sirs?”

The general’s eyes widened slightly and he stood up straighter. “Yes, yes, please do.”

They briefly exchanged glances, offering each other small smiles of encouragement, as the servant moved to the threshold of the library and bowed. “Sir George Stanley, my lord. And party.”

Percy trailed behind the general as he crossed the turkey carpet, drawing up short as his stepfather paused to bow to the pair of awaiting men in greeting. Percy froze – was he meant to bow as well? He continued to stand there awkwardly, feeling vaguely like an out of place pustule that had come unwillingly attached to the general, as the man stepped forward to shake hands with the younger men in turn.

No one could have mistook the pair for anything other than brothers. They possessed the same slightness of build and stature – they were perhaps an inch shorter than General Stanley, who was himself of average height – and the same finely-boned facial structure. One was dark and the other was fair though – both wore their long hair in the same style, powdered and tied back with a ribbon – and there was several years age difference visible between them even at a distance. They were elegantly outfitted in suits of silk velvet – in shades of deep plum and a striking French blue respectively – and undeniably quite handsome as well.

Well, at least I’ll have something pleasant to rest my eyes on while I’m here, if nothing else.

“It is kind of you to invite me to luncheon,” Sir George was saying, smiling warmly. “I cannot say how greatly I appreciate your welcome. I feel most awkward, then, to begin at once with an apology – but I am afraid I have imposed upon you by bringing my stepson. He arrived unexpectedly this morning from the country, just as I was setting out. Seeing that you will in some sense be brothers...” the general faltered slightly, giving an awkward little laugh as he coloured. “I, er, thought perhaps you would pardon my liberty in bringing him along to be introduced.”

Surprise rippled briefly over the Grey brothers’ expressions. The elder, dark-haired one – Harold Grey, Duke of Pardloe, no, Earl of Melton – tightened his lips. The younger, fair-haired one – Lord John Grey – recovered rapidly, an affable enough expression appearing.

“Of course,” Pardloe – Melton – said, managing to at least sound cordial even if the sentiment didn’t quite reflect on his face.

“Most certainly,” Lord John echoed, gaze shifting to Percy.

He stepped forward quickly to stand beside Sir George, flicking a glance from one brother to the other as the general’s broad hand settled warmly on his shoulder. “My Lord Melton, Lord John, May I present Mr Percival Wainwright?”

Melton’s mouth was tightly drawn and Percy could practically feel the barely suppressed waves of irritation coming off of him. He cringed inwardly, the knot in his belly tightening. He knew he shouldn’t have come, but it was too late now.

As long as they liked Sir George that was all that really mattered, he reminded himself. The general was the one marrying their mother, after all. All Percy needed to do was remain polite and try not to say anything terribly stupid. The general’s hand squeezed briefly in a reassuring manner before sliding away.

Lord John was holding out his hand and he took it quickly.

“Your servant, sir,” the young man said – and he was young, Percy could see now that he was standing so close. He was around Percy’s own age, perhaps a few years older at most. And he was...lovely. His features were delicately wrought and...

Percy had seen him before somewhere. Not just on the street, they’d met before, he felt sure of it. He had an excellent visual memory and never forgot a face. Where though...? The young lord felt it, too, he could see it. The man’s fair brows were drawn together slightly, studying his face with wintry blue eyes -

And then it flashed before his mind’s eye: the mysterious, standoffish young man at Lavender House, with the terrible suit, resplendent blond hair, unresponsive hand in his, and the exquisite blue eyes.

Good God.

He drew breath sharply and his hand clenched involuntarily on the other man’s, an action that was mirrored by Lord John half a heartbeat later as the same realization flashed in his momentarily widened eyes.

See the full post

11 notes - Posted June 23, 2022

#3

Currently taking a little procrastination break from writing and randomly ended up looking up buttercups, ie. LJG’s codename in the Black Chamber. So yeah, buttercups symbolize neatness, childishness, charm and humility - all things that often apply to John’s general personality (yeah he’s not great at the neatness bit in terms of keeping his clothes clean God (and Tom) knows, but in his preference for orderliness and structure in general).

But the thing that has me laughing right now is that all buttercups - despite their small, pretty, and harmless appearance - are actually poisonous when eaten fresh, blistering the mouth, leaving an acrid taste, and causing gastric upset. Was THAT bit of symbolism also intended for John...because honestly, it seems like it could be?? 😅

 Just ask ANYONE who’s gotten on John’s bad side - whether it’s Malcolm Stubbs’s cheating ass getting the shit kicked out of him in an alley, that woman who pissed John off during the Battle of Krefeld and got punched and fell off the bridge, or John’s father’s murderer getting stabbed in the eye - he may be small, pretty and charming but he can also be a straight up savage at the drop of a hat. 👀💀😂

17 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

#2

Oooh, I’ve never seen this bit of BotB discourse by DG before! ✨👀✨

Ah, Percy’s “spiritual fractures”, his fear that he’s damned and there’s something “wrong” him, coupled with his earlier experiences as a whore, had “a lot do with his eventual betrayal” - that’s similar to what I’d guessed earlier about the psychological underpinnings behind Percy’s actions. 

(I’d link that post but I don’t have time to hunt it down right now - have to get back to work soon. I really need to make myself some sort of table of contents at this point, it takes forever to find things. Mostly because I’m so damn long-winded, no doubt. lol Also, titles, labels? Never heard of them. xd)

And yeah, I’d doubted Percy really thought John would care enough to be hurt by him sleeping with Michael - especially when he himself knew it meant nothing - but to see it confirmed from the horse’s mouth is additionally sad. I will honestly never forgive her for what she did to Percy. smfh

“John’s never seen himself as anything but [an honourable man]” - pffttt, yeah, I can tell. 🙄 And it’s a huge part of his problem, the way he can’t even see the way his increasing rigidity and narrow-minded ideals are actually fetters obstructing him from emotional and mental growth. But that subject could be it’s own rambling post and I have to go! ^_^;

23 notes - Posted October 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Funny how people are always talking about how much William takes after Jamie, but barely anyone talks about how much he’s like John. Because the first time I read that scene - in Echo was it? - where Willie was running around and fending off a snake with a frying pan, the “OMG, he really is John’s son!!” feeling just smacked me in the face. Chaotic trouble magnets, the pair of them! lmao

Not to mention John seems to have hit Willie with his perpetually-horny-stick, wherein he’ll lust after and unadvisedly become infatuated with any attractive person who happens to cross their path. 

Ridiculous -- like father like son. 

26 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#ah well there's that 😅 #what - only 15 anti DG tags - it felt like more lol #my 2022 tumblr year in review #misc

[krokonoko]

oh my, @bassiter2...! that’s kinda kinky of you, but sure, go ahead ;DDD

(also uhm a public confession blog is... not your personal blog...?)

#but I had a hunch this confession came from u ♥ #anyway don't leave me hanging now! #got my neck all exposed for ya~ #fandom wank #also I know u got me blocked but I'm sure somehow this is gonna find its way to you regardless #this fandom is just too small to vague blog like that man

[angryschnauzer]

Just What I Need

Summary; Working in a coffee shop you meet all sorts of people, but one customer in particular is always friendly, a local Detective from the nearby precinct. When one night he orders through a delivery service rather than in store, you get more than a tip when you make the delivery.

Fandom; Nomis (Night Hunter) Movie, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x Female Reader (no race or size specified)

Trope: Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Flirting, Masturbation (male), Oral Sex (female recieving), unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Snowstorms.

I do not operate a tag list but instead please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, then you’ll get an alert every time i post a new story. My Masterlist got too long and tumblr ate it, so all my past stories can also be found on my AO3, link HERE

A/N: I am considering expanding this story, depending if people like it and want me to? Let me know! <3

Just What I Need

 Running the steam through the coffee machine you wiped the nozzle and smiled, there were just fifteen minutes until closing and the coffee shop you worked at was all but abandoned. Just your manager in the back counting the cash takings, and you were getting ready to box up the remaining muffins and cookies for the homeless shelter volunteer to collect dead on closing time.

 You didn’t mind working the late shift, in fact you preferred it over the early shift opening up at 7am. The 7am crowd were grumpy, rude and always in a rush. The 7pm customers were tired, quiet, and always thankful for whatever caffeinated delights you provided them with.

 The bell over the door rang as it opened and you looked up over the cups that were stacked on top of the machine, smiling at you saw the weary familiar face coming towards you;

 “Good Evening Detective” you smiled as the beast of a man stood at the counter. His face softened as he saw you, his shoulders dropping a little as he relaxed.

 “Hey… Sorry I’m in so late… you’re still open, right?”

 You glanced at the clock;

 “Another ten minutes. What can i get you?”

 You watched as he cast his gaze up to the handwritten chalkboard menu’s above the counter;

 “You got any Chilli left?”

 “Sure, a couple of pots in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?”

 He paused for a moment, as if trying to process the most technical question through his tired mind;

 “No… yes… urghhh…” he took a deep breath; “Yeah… if you wouldn’t mind. I’m so fuckin’ tired i think I’d burn my apartment down if i tried to use the stove”

 “Sure thing” you said with a smile as you got to work.

 You made small talk as you prepared his order, pulling out the sides and condiments that came with the Chilli meal;

 “Hey, you want a free muffin?”

 “I’m not really into sweet things this late at night… what flavours you got?”

“How about an Apple Cinnamon? It’ll last overnight and still be fresh enough for breakfast”

 The Detective smiled and nodded, pulling his wallet out as you finished bagging his order and rang it through for him, paying before you handed the bag to him;

 “Have a good evening Detective”

 As he turned he smiled at you;

 “Call me Walter”

 -

 Three days later and you were on the late shift again. Again it was quiet, just the soft sound of tyres driving through slushy snow outside the only noise since around 6pm as just a couple of customers nursed steaming mugs of coffee from their window seats. You saw the big silver truck pull up in the space outside the coffeeshop and smiled, there was only one customer that drove a truck that huge and if you were being honest with yourself you were developing quite a crush on the curly haired Detective.

 The moment he walked through the door you were smiling at him;

 “Detective” you greeted him happily

 “Didn’t i say to call me Walter last time i was here?”

 “I like Detective, has a nice authority ring to it” you said with a wink; “What can i get you tonight?”

 He paused for a moment, and as you reached for a notepad to jot down his order you missed the slight eyebrow raise and smirk at what you’d said before he cleared his throat;

 “What have you got that i can eat in my office without facing the wrath of my Lieutenant for making the department stink?” he said with a grin as he leaned on the counter.

 “I got Mozzarella and Pesto Subs? Tuna Melt?”

 “Tuna is a no. The case isn’t going well, no fish. Gimme two Mozzarella Subs, and the largest black coffee you do”

 “Sure thing. I’ll put a fresh pot on and get those sub’s on the press”

 As you started to prepare his order his phone rang, and you couldn’t help but to listen in;

 “... i’ll be like five minutes, i ain’t eaten all day… yeah ok… i’ll grab a box…”

 He hung up and nodded to the cakes;

 “Can i get a dozen muffins to go too? Got some grunts that are jealous that i got to escape the paperwork…”

 “Sure thing”

 Loading a box you picked what you knew were the best flavours and the freshest bakes;

 “You know, we’re on Uber Eats. As much as its nice to see a friendly face, we can deliver to the Precinct”

 “I… I have no idea what that is…”

 “Its a food delivery app. Here, give me your phone…”

 He unlocked it and set it down and rested his elbows on the counter as he watched;

 “You go to the app store and just download it. Put in your location and it’ll bring up nearby eateries and you can search for us. It has all the standard menu on. Save your card details or link it to paypal, and its super easy, it even keeps you updated when the order is being prepared or its out for delivery”

 He smiled as you pushed the phone back to him, locking the screen and pushing it back into his tight jeans;

 “That’s all well and good, but then i wouldn’t get a chance to see my favourite coffee shop girl now, would i?”

 You leaned forward and grinned, keeping your voice low;

 “Order between 6.45 and 7pm and i snag the deliveries and do them on my way home”

 -

 Walter pushed the key into the lock, opening the door to his apartment and groaning as his body ached from tiredness. He should be elated, they caught the killer, the evidence was logged and couldn’t be disputed… and yet he was tired to his core. He’d been at his desk for longer than he’d been home, and when the Lieutenant had finally ordered him to go him a little after 5pm, it had still taken him the better part of an hour to finish up and leave the building. 

 Shutting the door behind him he felt his stomach rumble. He didn’t even need to look in the fridge to know it was completely empty, devoid of anything even vaguely edible. Checking his phone he saw that it was a little after 6.30pm and a thought fired across his mind, a smile forming. Fifteen minutes later he’d added far more to his online basket than he ever would have done in store, but for the first time he was able to see exactly what the creations were whereas in the store it was just a big pile of weird looking cakes and bakes. By 6.50pm he’d entered his card details and completed the order, the little update screen stating delivery would be by 7.30pm, just enough time to grab a shower, after all if it was you that would deliver, he should probably shower for the first time in 72 hours having rushed out of the apartment three mornings in a row due to new leads in the case.

 The shower was far too enjoyable to rush, and after he’d washed his hair he started on his body, soaping over his chest and stomach before he paid extra attention to his dick. The anticipation of just the possibility of seeing you had him hard in seconds, and resting his head back against the tiled wall he quickly worked his hand over himself. He got lost in the moment, his mind taking him to places it shouldn’t, imagining his hand was yours, thinking about that time he saw you wearing over the over the knee knit socks and a skirt, how your ass was the perfect roundness, how your lips would look stretched around his dick… he came with a groan, thick white ropes falling to the shower floor as every ounce of stress left his body, his body shuddering when he was finally spent.

 He was halfway through drying himself when he heard a knock at the door to his apartment, he eyes going wide when he saw it was 7.20pm;

 “Fuck!”

 He’d gotten carried away in the shower, and now he had to quickly rush to wrap a towel around his waist as a second knock came just as he reached the door, taking a deep breath before opening it and seeing you standing on the doorstep shivering in your padded coat, holding two takeout bags;

 “Hey! Come in, come in, Jeez its freezing out there…”

 Stepping into the apartment you couldn’t help but to look him up and down, attempting to hide your reaction as you could clearly see the distinct outline of something rather large bulging against the fabric of the fluffy white towel;

 “Hey D-d-detective… Y-y-yeah it’s d-d-dropping fast out t-t-there… radio s-s-said it was g-g-gonna be a wind chill of minus t-t-twenty nine by eight o’clock… what a n-n-night to have my b-b-bike, huh?” You carefully dropped the two bags onto his coffee table as you spoke.

 “You cycled here? On that pedal bike that is always chained up outside the coffee shop?” he asked incredulously, immediately forgetting his current state of undress. Shutting the door he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest; “You’re gonna stay here until you’re warmed up, i’m gonna make you a hot coffee and to warm you up from the inside too...”

 “I ain’t gonna complain to that” you mumbled, your face pressed to his chest as you suddenly melted against him, warming your cheek against his firm muscles before turning your head to warm the other one and he let out a little gasp as your cold hands pressed against his sides.

 “I also said for you to call me Walter…” he said quietly.

 Pulling your head back you smiled at him;

 “Thank you, Walter. You’re the best… though you’re the first delivery i’ve made where i’ve been greeted by someone in just a towel”

 “Sorry, let me go put some clothes on…”

 You tighten your grip around his waist;

 “I wasn’t complaining…”

 There was no poignant pause, no longing gazes, his lips met with yours and the kiss was fierce and hungry. He was pushing your coat down your arms and you reluctantly released your hold from his waist to let it drop to the floor, your sweater following soon after. Your lips met again and he was lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hand rested on your ass beneath your skirt as he walked you through the apartment before dropping you on his bed.

 He was pulling your boots off your feet as you scrambled up the bed, your hands reaching for your thigh high socks when he suddenly caught your hands in his;

 “Leave those on…”

 You paused and grinned, before his lips met yours again and he was on top of you, his hands sliding up your skirt and bunching it around your waist as he pressed a trail of open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach, before briefly lifting his head enough to pull your panties down your legs and toss them aside.

 As he lowered his mouth to your core his gaze was intense, vivid blue shining through the dim light of his bedroom, his tongue pushing through your soaked petals and parting them as his beard brushed against your skin, heightening all of the sensations. Wrapping his arms around your thighs he pulled you closer to his mouth, his tongue pushing into you and he started to fuck you with it whilst his bearded face tickled your clit. You were squealing and struggling to stay still, needing to anchor yourself on something as your hips bucked and your orgasm started to rapidly approach, your hands finding their way to his still wet hair and your fingers wrapping around the dark curls as he pressed a hand to your stomach to keep you still, growling at your taste on his tongue as he felt you shake as your orgasm took over.

 When your body had finally stopped shaking Walter pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of each of your thighs before he sat back on his haunches, licking his lips where he could still taste you on them. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows you grinned at him, your gaze travelling down his thick chest to his stomach, and the trail of hair that led beneath the towel;

 “You gonna show me what you’ve got under that towel, Detective?”

 “You ready for what i’ve got under this towel darlin’?”

 Pushing yourself up to sitting, your legs spread and bent either side of him, you hooked a finger into the towel and tugged, your eyes going wide when you saw his thick meaty cock standing hard and proud between his muscled thighs. Wrapping your hands around it you relished the feel of his silky skin as it moved over the hardness beneath, your mouth against his;

 “I need you inside me”

 “I… Fuck… this wasn’t planned… i haven’t got any protection…”

 “I’m on birth control, I want to feel you bare…”

 With a growl he surged forwards, capturing your lips with his own before he pushed you down onto the bed. Holding himself up on one hand he hooked your leg up over his hip, opening you like a winter blossom as he rubbed his dick through your soaked folds, dousing himself with your slick wetness. You whined at the teasing, the way his tip would brush against your hole only to move up to your clit;

 “Walter, please… you promised to warm me up from the inside…”

 He paused, a smirk on his face;

 “You want me to get you a coffee? ‘Cos i can stop…”

 “NO, i need your diiiiiiiiii….FUCK!” He’d pushed into you as you were mid sentence, the feeling of his meaty girth splitting your walls wide open overwhelming you and your eyes rolled back in their sockets; “OH MY GOD!”

 “You like that Darlin? You feeling warmer now?”

 “Please… please fuck me…”

 He grinned and shifted his hips, grinding into you;

 “Well, as you said please…”

 You had been expecting him to pound you into the mattress, you had not been expecting for his technique to start off with sensual rolls of his hips, filling you tenderly and carefully whilst you got used to his size. It was almost overwhelming, completely surrounded as he caged you in with his massive arms, his chest pressed against your own as his hips worked utter magic. He pulled his legs wide apart, shifting to rest on your open hips and he got even deeper. Pressing kisses to your lips and neck he soon had you moaning and begging for release, every push and pull hitting just the right spots and you were almost embarrassingly wet from the arousal but it only added to the sensations.

 You could feel yourself coming, the pleasure too much to hold back, and with a long low moan your body betrayed you and succumbed to the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your belly. Walter kept up the same speed of his thrusts but pushed a little harder, a little deeper with each one;

 “Can feel you fluttering around me, you gonna cum for me? You look so fucking beautiful all fucked out and wanting, feel so fucking amazing…”

 Just as your orgasm was at its peak he tensed and you could feel his cum flooding into you, the twitching of his dick as he filled you with his seed prolonging your high. When you had both finally finished you could feel his weight start to get heavier on top of you, before with a sudden and surprising act of nimble dexterity he rolled the pair of you over so you were laying atop of him, his softening dick slipping out and you felt the trickle of his seed flow out of you. With one massive hand he pulled the duvet across your bodies, and you snuggled up to his chest;

 “That was the best tip ever” you giggled; “In fact definitely more than the tip”

 At that moment you not only heard but felt his stomach growl, looking up and seeing him grin sheepishly as he spoke;

 “I just want you to know this is not how i usually treat food deliveries… do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

 Nodding you smiled;

 “That'd be nice”

 -

 A while later you were cleaned up, Walter having given you one of his massive t-shirts to wear which came to the tops of your thighs. He’d grazed through half the contents of his order as you nibbled on a muffin, having eaten at the coffee shop during a very quiet last hour of your shift. You’d laughed and chatted as the pair of you had eaten on the comfort of Walters couch, before you’d suddenly stopped mid sentence;

 “Shit, i left my bike in the lobby… will it be safe there until i go home?”

 Walter smiled at you, his hand curling around your thigh;

 “Have you heard that weather out there? I’d be surprised if you could even ride it home through three foot of snow…” he paused for a moment; “Stay the night…”

 You went to object, decline politely but you caught yourself, why? Why shouldn’t you spend the night? Taking a deep breath you smiled;

 “I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Part 2 >>>

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #henry cavill #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life 7

Find my masterlist

Here we are. Chapter 7. Stuff is happening, we’re getting to see more of plotty stuff. We’re still nowhere near the end, I have Plans still, but! 

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader eventually. Don’t hold your breath folks, this one’s a slow burn. Sort of.

Warnings: Some mild violence. Some magic. 

Taglist: @tibbietibbs​ @fandom-blackhole​ @pedrocentric​ @shoopidly​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @zinzinina​ @beskarprincessjenny 

In which there is some adventuring

“Now?” you asked, surprised. It wasn’t late, there was still sunlight out, but it wasn’t going to be light for much longer.

“Now,” Djarin confirmed, sweeping over to his work area and starting to gather things up.

A bit perplexed, you picked up the kid and shrugged at Peli. Well, if the wizard said so, it looked like you were going with him. He wouldn’t take the kid anywhere dangerous, which likely meant that, by extension, you’d be fine. 

Djarin nodded when you walked back over to him, and he opened the door again and ushered you out first. You stepped down into the sand, taking a moment to adjust. It was slippery under your feet, softer than you were used to feeling. It was a very curious feeling, but not altogether unpleasant. 

“I’m Cobb Vanth,” the silver-haired man said, holding out a hand to you. You took it after a moment of juggling the child to your other side, giving him your name in turn. 

“Which way?” Djarin asked before you and Vanth could talk further. 

“It’s not too far,” Vanth said, jerking his head and starting to walk. You kept pace with the two men, although you had the feeling they were taking pity on you and walking slower than they otherwise would. Well, that suited you fine. You could only hobble so fast.

“You say you found this crystal near your town?” Djarin asked as he walked.

“‘S right,” Vanth agreed. “There’s a deposit of ‘em. Too close to the creature, now. Can’t get close without getting trampled. Once the creature’s gone, you’re welcome to as many of ‘em as you want.”

Djarin hummed quietly at that and then fell silent. Vanth looked at you, and you shrugged and continued walking. It was a bit harder to walk in the sand than you were used to, and before long Djarin reached over and took the kid from you. You rather wished you’d grabbed your trusty walking stick before you’d left. Vanth offered you his arm, which you took with a grateful murmur.

“Not much farther,” Vanth told both of you as the sun slid towards the horizon. “We’ll be there before full dark.”

Well, that wasn’t as reassuring as he thought it was. You huffed but soldiered on, grateful for the assistance. 

Finally, the village wavered on the edge of your vision, slipping in and out of sight for a while. It was quite curious, but you didn’t quite dare to ask Djarin or Vanth about the illusion effect. It also occurred to you that your eyes were possibly just acting their current age. (Another thing to wallop the Witch for.) 

And then all at once you were just outside the village. Only a few people were still out and about, but you could see lights flickering in the huts. 

“C’mon,” Vanth murmured to the two of you. “My place is this way. You can stay the night and start out first thing.”

Djarin started to protest but Vanth still had you firmly in his grasp, and he led you away. You heard Djarin sigh behind you and then start after you, and you smiled a little.

“It’s very kind of you to let us stay,” you murmured to Vanth.

“Oh it’s no trouble, ma’am,” he replied with a grin. “I like havin’ visitors over.” He shot you a wink, and you half-hid your chuckle behind a hand. “How’d you end up working for the wizard, anyway?”

“It’s a long story,” you deflected, waving a hand airily. “I’m sure a youngster like yourself wouldn’t be interested in anything so dull.” 

"Indulge me?" Vanth asked, giving you his undivided attention. 

You hesitated and then started crafting a somewhat vaguely truthful account. "I'm from Kalevala," you said, starting out speaking slowly. "I decided that I wanted to see more of the world, so I left home. I found the castle as I was walking and let myself in."

Vanth choked briefly on air as he opened the front door for you. "You let yourself in? Ma'am, you are far braver than I."

You waved off his compliment. "That's when I met the child. And, well, I have experience with my niece, you know. So I offered my services to the wizard."

"Offered?" Djarin drawled from behind you, very nearly giving you a heart attack. 

You made a face at the wizard. He wasn't exactly wrong. 

"Well, that's quite a story," Vanth said, looking between the two of you like he wasn't sure he'd gotten the whole story. Good instincts on this one. "Have y'all eaten? I can whip somethin' up for you."

"No, thank you," Djarin answered. He handed the kid back to you, and you cradled the little one easily. 

Vanth nodded after a moment. "Make yourselves at home," he offered, waving at the space. He kicked his boots off and padded further inside. 

You exchanged looks with Djarin, shrugged, and carefully toed your own shoes off. You were going to poke around (just a little), but Djarin expertly herded you to the couch. 

"Let the kid sleep," was all the explanation he offered. You huffed but gave in, settling there for the moment.

Honestly, it wasn't as awkward as you would have feared. Not to mention the walk had worn you out more than you'd anticipated. By the time it was fully dark, you'd fallen asleep on the couch. You roused only briefly when Djarin encouraged you to lay down flat, the kid sprawled across your torso, and then you were out again. 

Gentle nudges roused you in the morning, and you blinked your eyes open, bleary and a bit irritated.

"We're going now," Djarin murmured to you. He was crouched next to the couch, in his usual armor. 

"Hmm?" You blinked at him, lifting one hand to rub crust out of your eyes. 

"Vanth is showing me where the creature lives," Djarin reminded you patiently. 

You grumbled something unintelligible at him. Djarin chuckled and stood. 

"Go back to sleep," he told you. "I'll be back soon." 

You lifted your head to watch him leave. Vanth nodded to you and shut the door after the two of them. Your head hit the pillow again and you were out. 

You woke again later to little hands patting your cheeks, and you smiled without opening your eyes. 

"Good morning," you murmured to the kid, who burbled happily at you. You cleared your eyes carefully and looked at the kid. "Hungry?"

The kid cooed, and you got up carefully. You weren't as sore or stiff as you thought you would be, which was nice. It didn't take long to find a little something for the kid to eat, but you both grew bored quickly. 

"Shall we take a look around?" You asked the kid. He blinked up at you, and you carried him outside. You didn't plan to go far, you just wanted to look around. Stave off some boredom waiting for Djarin to return. 

The village was small. You might even use quaint, if asked. It was a handful of huts and other buildings, with one general store and a few other odds and ends. Sand stretched out in all directions from the village, but you could see some greenery. Likely the crops Vanth had mentioned before. 

You wandered over closer to look. In the clear light of day, the footprints you could see looked… large. Just a little worrisome.

"Well, whatever did this clearly wasn't happy," you murmured to the child, crouching down to get a better look at the crops and the footprints. "Look at the size of these! Why, I would certainly like to flee from anything with feet so large." 

The kid cooed his agreement of that, looking around with big eyes. He wiggled to be put down, and you set him on his feet. He promptly stuck one of his feet in the massive footprint with a quiet noise of awe. Then he stuck his other foot in. And then jumped up and down a few times for good measure before he turned to you with a toothy grin. 

"Ah, I see. You vanquished the footprint. Well done, my little friend." You chuckled. "Let's see how the remaining crops fare, hmm?" 

The answer to that was not well. They looked traumatized - smaller than they should be and not at all healthy looking.

"Well, this won't do," you tutted. "Straighten up there, plants! Yes, you've had a fright, but you can do better than this! People depend on you, you know. You'd better get in shape soon." 

A villager passing nearby gave you a look that was equal parts scared and wary and hurried away. 

"How's that for gratitude?" You grumbled as you stood up straight. You looked down, expecting to see the child agreeing with you, and found no child. It took you a few moments to locate him, during which you had a minor heart attack. He was busy toddling away from you as fast as his little legs could carry him, heading further into the desert. "Kid?"

He made a noise somewhere between distressed and angry, and you caught up to him quickly.

"Show me," you told the kid, picking him up. There was a sense of urgency about him that you couldn't ignore. 

The kid pointed off towards the desert, and you took off at a brisk walk. You could still see evidence of the creature as you walked - half-erased footprints in the sand, a few dung heaps, a tuft of dark, matted fur. You could also see occasional footprints from Djarin and Vanth. Worry started to gnaw at your insides. 

The ground started to slope downwards, and rocks started to accumulate. It wasn't long before you were looking at… not quite a mountain. A hill, certainly. With a lot of mud. Sandy mud. You could feel it squishing under your shoes. 

You found Vanth first, crouched down behind some boulders. He hissed at you both, waving you over.

"What are you doin'?" He demanded. "It's not safe out here! The wizard said to stay out of it and stay here!" 

You set your jaw stubbornly. "I'm going to check on him," you said, shaking your head. "I'll be careful." 

"At least gimme the kid," Vanth tried. 

"Where I go, he goes." You stepped around the boulders and started towards the muddy depression. You could see a cave opening yawning in front of you. It took you a moment to spot the creature, but only a moment. It was well away from you, head lowered, gigantic horn aimed at the wizard. Who was sprawled inelegantly on his back on the ground, covered in mud and muck. 

The kid let out a cry, and you found yourself mirroring him. The great head swung towards you and the kid, and Vanth yelled a warning. The creature snorted and then charged.

The kid raised a hand, eyes closing in concentration, and you felt the air around the two of you humming and vibrating with energy. So you focused on the kid, well aware that whatever was happening, he was doing it. 

“Good, kid,” you murmured encouragingly. “You can do it. I know you can. I can feel how much strength you have - you’re quite impressive, actually.” 

The creature stopped advancing towards the two of you and slowly lifted up into the air, its feet still going. It bellowed, clearly confused. 

“Good, very good. Hold it there,” you instructed the kid. “You’re doing an excellent job. Just hold it a little longer.” 

Djarin had jumped to his feet at all the yelling, and stood staring (so far as you could tell) at the scene until Vanth yelled something. You couldn’t quite hear, honestly, too focused on the child in your arms and the scene unfolding in front of you. But Djarin pulled a knife from… somewhere, you honestly weren’t sure where, and ran up to the creature. One quick plunge and twist of the knife, and it was over. The creature dropped to the ground. The kid slumped in your arms.

And you abruptly found yourself sitting in the mud, dizzy and euphoric and so scared, staring up at the wizard before you.

#Merry go round of Life #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #howl's moving castle au

[mageofseven]

hi!!! i just requested this on another blog too but i am FIRED UP rn abt the angel event, and i was wondering if you could do hcs for the brothers with an mc who is SUPER pissed off abt the bangles and stuff (bc its just wrong on SO many levels), especially bc they have religious trauma of their own (its the internalized lgbt-phobia for me 😎) AKRHWJRJE thank u

Yeah...this became a rant that I had no idea I was holding within myself. I've put it all under a Read More thing for those who haven't seen or finished the event for whatever reason. The actual content asked for is below this rant so feel free to skip over it for the real reason y'all are reading this 😅

Okay, people seem to be very...negatively passionate about this event. Don't get me wrong; I understand and agree with why everyone is upset. Playing with the brother's trauma (well, most of the brother's trauma since Satan wasn't alive at the time and Asmo seemed pretty chill with the whole angelic thing) for sake of an event? That's fucked up.

On a story level, I was at first mad at Diavolo. I mean, surely, surely that man knows what horrible stuff Lucifer and his brothers went through or at least part of it, because the ending of it all is what brought the brothers to him! And maybe he thought the costume change was okay since Asmo requested it? But even so, the consent of one brother does not equal the consent of all brothers to dress up like their past selves!

Then bangles. Simeon knew what they did and still gave them to the brothers. Okay, upsetting, but Michael told him to give them to the brothers and maybe he can't refuse an archangel? I dunno but fuck you, Michael.

I'll admit though, those bangles helped the brother do good things and get past their gnawing insecurities (Mammon selling his stuff and donating the money to charity, Asmo know longer stressing over looking perfect and finding peace with his looks and ultimately, learning to truly love himself in a way he never did before), but such things happened for the wrong reasons. I want those good changes for our boys, but I don't want it forced on them like it has been in this event. I want them to reflect, see that a changes is need, and choose to work in themselves and self-heal.

This event was just a lot of me smiling uncomfortably and screaming in my head "what's happening to my sinny boys??". It honestly broke my heart when Luce said he didn't have any fond memories of his time as an angel and I was so worried about all of the bad memories that must be flooding his mind because of this, especially his since his brother, though began with anxiety in the beginning, fell into what's practically mind control quite easily, and only Luce was left fighting it's affects.

Some parts of the event were cute, I won't deny that, but it wasn't them. We didn't truly have our boys during this event and instead had to watch them revert to state they likely never wanted to and it hurt to watch...

Okay, I started this rant trying to make a point that I thought the rest of the fandom felt too strongly about this event and now I'm like...ouch, I had a lot more feelings in me about it than I originally thought. So ya, I understand now. Imma just hide in the corner and hug my Luci...

~

Lucifer:

Truly surprised to see MC so worked up

And lowkey touched that they care so much about both his and his brothers' wellbeing to the point where they'd get so mad on their behalf.

However, he cannot allow for them to speak to Lord Diavolo in such a manner.

Pulls them to the side and tells them enough is enough, consequently bringing their harsh comments towards Simeon to halt as well.

Getting worked up is not going to fix anything and he tells them this.

Mammon:

Whoa, whoa, hold up! Enough!

No need to get that mad, human, honest!

Yeah, this isn't gonna be easy for them, but he doesn't need MC digging their own hole in this situation.

Immediately works on comforting them, saying things like he and his brothers will get out of this in no time so they don't have to worry.

Essentially lies to them and feels extra guilty about it thanks to the bangles, but no stupid bracelet is gonna make him admit that and hurt his human worse!

Overall, MC's outburst forces him to focus on them and not his own current issues.

Leviathan:

Another brother so worried about them that he has to shelve his own worries to comfort them

...or at least, he tries to.

Basically agrees with everything Mammon says (the bangles make that a hell of a lot easier for him to do) and anxiously fidgets in place.

He has enough to worry about and now his Henry is acting like this? Things just keep getting worse.

Satan:

Sighs

"MC, now is not time for this."

You know when the Avatar of Wrath says you shouldn't be giving into angry right now that you really shouldn't be.

Appreciates that the human is so worried about them, but really doesn't need their yelling on top of the current issue.

Whether this is his own logic talking or the calming effect of the bangles, the man cannot discern.

Regardless, this situation is more of an inconvenience to him than anything else.

He never was an angel nor went through the trauma his brothers have. At best, he just has a small, vague patchwork of Lucifer's memories of that time.

He becomes increasingly unsettled as time in this form goes by, but doesn't struggle in the same way his brothers do.

Asmodeus:

"Oh stop, it'll be fine!"

The only brother to try to remain positive in the situation.

I mean, at least his outfit is cute, right?

The bangles do raise up a kind of anxiety that he doesn't want to deal with, but if he just smiles and pretends things are fine, maybe all of his issues will go away?

Doesn't like MC getting so angry because it reminds him that this is indeed a problem and he doesn't want that.

Beelzebub:

Sad baby boy.

More worried about MC than he is about himself tbh.

Please don't be mad, MC, it'll get fixed somehow 🥺

Despite being one of the afflicted, feels like he needs to watch over the human during this time.

Belphegor:

Ugh, stop.

Yeah, he's pissed too, but enough yelling about it.

Agrees with everything they spew out at the demon lord and angel.

Devil, just fix this, someone.

He doesn't want to be forced to be like his prior self, as if the loss of his sister never happened because it did happened.

Fuck Diavolo for always doing whatever the hell he wants. Fuck Michael for still wanting to control them even now. Fuck everything that's going on right now.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me gn!mc

[karanoid]

about top joe discord

LET ME ADDRESS A FEW POINTS:

There has been many fear and anxiety regardless the top!joe discord I made. I understand how it gives my discord a bad reputation. Somebody has kindly reached out to me to ask me addressing several points, which I’m now gonna clarify:

1. I am racist, I asked why, and they said mostly because of my dismissive behavior to people who called me out for drawing yusuf adorned in gold jewelry which made their friends feel unsafe. So, I am a muslim and was raised in a muslim household and community. I am fucking brown.

I didn’t say it because you don’t need to know that about me. What bothers me is how some people feel the need to come to my inbox informing me “maam yusuf is a religious muslim who prays 5 times a day and do all the supplementary prayers all while he drinks alcohol and fuck nicky in the dailies, he wouldnt be wearing gold maam no maam.” as if I didn’t know any better. so please, now don’t do that. If you care so much about the littlest details like wearing gold then you’ll also call out yusuf because he draws living beings and drinks champagne. yes it’s true muslim men are forbidden from wearing gold AND silk but let’s not forget, nothing in the comic and movies imply yusuf has ever been religious. It’s easier to see nicolo as religious because he was a fucking priest. Yusuf was a fucking merchant, it’s easy to see that he’d be less faithful because he would have been travelling and seen many kind of people to broaden his horizons and not contained to a little bubble of hyper religious community. However, let me remind you: whether yusuf AND nicolo are religious or not is entirely UP TO THE AUTHOR/ARTIST. It’s totally fine to make him religious and if you can respect it THATS GREAT, I ALSO LIKE HIM THAT WAY, but please remember it’s not even canon and hey sometimes I just draw things because I like the aesthetics. Also please, do not harass writers for getting a thing or two incorrect, even white people cannot get christianity correct, even between two muslims could be a disagreement whether this fic’s yusuf is problematic or not. I wouldn’t even expect anything more and THAT’S OKAY. Just don’t be an ass to muslims of color in real life and don’t fall into the believe that it’s a religion of violence. you can say that greg made him that way bc he knew nothing better but hey, I have no problem with that. again, it’s fine to make him religious, I’d be delighted but it’s ALSO fine to make him not religious.

2. I think that people only write Top!Nicky out of political correctness. OKAY. I apologize for this. I thought like this because I have accounts telling me that they were pressured into writing top!nicky or they wanted more readerships so I make a BIG assumption. I realized this is only a small part of switch and top!nicky fics and the big bulk of this must be out of genuine care. So yeah, I apologize for thinking that people only write top!nicky out of political correctness. I think writers should be allowed to write whatever they want. Yes this includes top!Nicky. And in whatever kinks they want it. However, this still doesn’t change that the discourses do scare people away from writing top!joe. Write top!nicky however you want, but stop vague-blogging about top!joe. racism isn’t inherent to top!joe and you can always remind people to be mindful with their writings but discouraging people from writing top!joe is not the solution. 

3. Top!joe is racist and people in the discord are racist. Okay, I am gonna touch several aspects why top!joe discord is considered racist: (1) because I don’t like to switch them, therefore I am racist. Sorry that’s not how it works. I have a clear preference and that’s just how I roll. Besides, a lot of people in the discord (including me) think either they switch (because they are 900 yo) or joe just doesn’t like bottoming. I’m not the kind of people who refers to reality for fiction I consume but people who prefer to top or to bottom exist (2) i want to be away from accountability and responsibility. Nope. The reason I made it is because I wanted to gather people with same interest as mine. 

4. I paint Yusuf as aggressive and the whole discord like him being an aggressive top. I think this is the only reason why the discord is seen in a negative light. Because wow what a coincidence that someone vagueblogged my discord at the day I celebrated about Nicky suggesting 20 years and wrote a post about how Joe is allowed to be angry. And beside someone made the WRONG assumption that we are focusing on Joe’s anger and violence (what). Okay, I don’t know how to break this down. But I will try. First, yes I was overjoyed at the news. Because I’m one of the people that do not like feral!nicky headcanon. I liked it at first bc it was funny but then it was twisted into Nicky being cold. So I don’t like it (lol), I still like it though but like I don’t seriously think that way. However, I never liked the idea that Nicky suggested higher than Joe. Because then his character just doesn’t click with me, there was a cognitive dissonance for me because joe clearly says nicky’s heart overflows kindness, you can see nicky as a medic in the credit montage. Also, from their body language and from the way the movie set em up, I think Joe is the one who suggested higher and I am glad to be proven right. Second, I did write a post about how Joe is allowed to be angry at Booker. People agreed with me, so I was not alone. But the reason I wrote that post is not because I wanted to paint yusuf as aggressive, but because I’m tired at people who think Joe shouldn’t display any negative emotions. I think it’s out of character. I do NOT think Joe is aggressive. That is NOT his wholeass personality. If you looked at my tog art tag, never once I portrayed Joe as anything aggressive. If I do, please show me. Third, people are conflating this with my post where I reblogged with a comment that implies aggressive Joe isn’t racism. Okay in this, the context is IN BED. It’s Joe being aggressive in BED. It’s literally BED ROLES AND FANTASY. I don’t even have a particular scenario in my head when I reblogged that, the original post clearly refers to bed roles with manhandling and kinks etc. like, why would you spank someone in public? Lastly, about the discord, NOPE, most people in the discord agree that Joe is either a GENTLE DOM or SERVICE TOP. But in my opinion, if someone likes Joe as an aggressive top (again, bed roles baby) I really don’t think it’s racism. It’s just... projection? 

anyway, back to joe’s emotions, these are posts from a moroccan man (paragraph #7) and a brown woman whose posts I agree with. Let’s be real, people of color are expected to shut up in favor of white people’s fragile feelings.

Now, about racism in fandom. I understand the concern because muslim men are painted as violent and aggressive. You know what I will never forgive those radicals for taking away innocents lives and to leave a lasting damage in how muslims are perceived in the west. However, you have to keep in mind, Joe in the movie is far from being stereotyped. I mean, Gina and Marwan practically greenlit him? Now, you might have concerns that writers are gonna turn him into a walking stereotype which is... okay, I understand that concern. But the solution is to communicate this ‘hey I think you make him too stereotypical in this etc etc’ not “write more top!nicky AND shame top!joe” because again, top!joe is not inherently racist.

also some people mentioned that they hope I recognize racial bias in the ship. dude, that goes without saying, all aspects of your life will be influenced by racial biases. however, this kind of thing is not specific to fandom/shipping. Like I said I’m fucking brown, friends and families with facial features that cater to white expectation are treated better. I did say at the bottom of this post, yeah I did notice why it’s always a brown character who’s always openly mad. And that’s in itself a form of racial bias. Racial biases affect everyone, white or POC, it doesn’t matter. But I got an issue with how people think this is racism. like how convenient, if by falling to racial biases mean you are a racist then what about those white people who created this racial biases in the first place? and I noticed the persons who got the audacity to cry about everything in this fandom is white?? I mean okay, they don’t know what I am, but not everyone is comfortable with sharing their private information like ethnic group, faith, etc. what if they really don’t want to share it? Because like you said, racial bias, whether good or bad will affect me. Now, I don’t know what white people are feeling, I’m not white. However, based on my interactions with them. We’re all just people sharing same interest, it could be they fall into racial biases, but all we shared about are just regular HCs. Even people making a conscious effort to combat racial bias still in essence fall for racial bias. You just cannot escape it.

According to this post, fandom assumes that the bottom is the proxy of writers, I don’t think this is applicable to everyone but let’s just say it’s true and people tend to write about their projection better so I’m gonna assume the racism part comes from the fact that..yeah I do think the bottom usually gets more fleshed out as a result of them being the writers proxy, so somebody posted this in the discord which I agree because yes I do think there’s a lack about yusuf’s background especially when it comes to crusade era:

but since I know most writers aren’t muslims, to me it’s not so much about racism but they simply know nothing about it, and not always out of ignorance either but in this climate, if you get a thing or two wrong you’d get harassed. so *shrugs* I understand the reluctancy. But here’s the thing, this is not about top/bottom issue but because most of the fandom are white so they have more freedom in writing the white character. Anyway, plenty of people have projected themselves into yusuf already, the whole “top/bottom” thing in this fandom is not even a thing. Yes, some writers project on the bottom so if you prefer bottom!joe that’s fine, somebody in the discord is doing a research and it turned out top!joe wasn’t even a CLEAR majority in JULY. So clearly they got their share already?

so please, let’s stop with the vitriol. if people are preferring top!joe it’s clearly because of different preferences. it’s not that deep. it’s the same way with how some people are preferring top!nicky. But we’re being driven out based on a hypothetical scenarios? like what do you want? for us to cease existing??? don’t be ridiculous.

I know people won’t listen to me. So this is my suggestion: LETS JUST IGNORE THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE. LET’S ALL JUST AGREE TO DISAGREE. 

#discourse #the old guard #joe x nicky #kaysanova #immortal husbands

[tearsofgrace]

written for december destiel day 13: ornaments (a day late again but who’s counting)

thanks @galaxycastiel and @jellydeans for hosting!

word count: 800, tags: tw self harm (accidental), tw suicidal thoughts (kinda), angst, sad dean, cas is dead, saileen, grieving dean, supportive sam

He got like this a lot recently. Everything fuzzy and in slow motion, the taste of liquor sharp on his tongue and heavy in his breath, drooping eyes and clumsy actions. 

He reached for another ornament from the cheap box he’d bought and stumbled toward the tree, a mantra repeating in his head over and over: do it for Sammy.

He had to. He had to get a perfect tree. Get a perfect gift. Pretend he was perfectly fine. Sam didn’t know just how broken he was. Probably didn’t care. Why would he care. 

Sam and Eileen were happy together. Basking in godless bliss. Finally able to do everything they wanted with their lives. Finally able to escape Dean and every piece of baggage he brought with him. 

So he turned to the one thing he was good at. Taking care of Sammy. Making the perfect Christmas tree for him even though none of it mattered. Nothing could matter. Nothing ever would with Cas gone. 

He reached the tree and stumbled, vision swimming as he reached for an empty branch. He closed one of his eyes to see better, peering through the open one as he raised the ornament. He tried not to let the waves of hurt rolling over him affect him. They were always there anyway. Sometimes, though, they were bigger. Louder. More persistent in their efforts to drag him away into the depths of the sea. 

His fingers couldn’t hook the ornament to the tree. They were too weak. He was too weak. He was useless. He was-

The sound of glass breaking cut through his thoughts and he jerked back, staring at the floor as though it had betrayed him. As though it had reached up and plucked the ornament from his hand, shattering it on impact. As though it wasn’t his own idiot self that had ruined this. Had ruined this just like he’d ruined everything he’d ever touched. 

Just like he’d ruined Cas. 

He collapsed to the ground, all the air sucked out of his lungs by some invisible force. Mouth bitter, he crawled forward toward the broken glass. 

He had to fix it. Had to clean it up before Sam got home and saw how broken he was. 

His hands hit glass and he started sweeping it into a pile, ignoring the slight tremor in his motions. 

It took until all of the scattered mess was neatly gathered before he realized. Saw the red coating his hands, tiny cuts welling up with blood. He wiped his hands on his pants and leaned back on his heels, away from the glass that was now stained in red. 

It didn’t work. When he pulled his hands away from his jeans, fresh blood started seeping from the cuts. 

He couldn’t fix this. How the fuck could he fix this? He couldn’t fix anything. He’d broken yet another thing. He’d broken it all. 

He clenched his fists, letting the sting that shot through his body ground him, and stared at the floor. 

Cas was in his head. Cas was always in his head these days. Sometimes he was telling him he loved him. Other times he was telling him that he deserved to be happy. Sometimes he was just smiling sadly. 

On the worst days, he would look at Dean, blue eyes filled with tears, and say five words. His voice low, alone, lost. Broken. “Why didn’t you save me?”

“I should have saved you,” Dean muttered thickly, unsure if the words even came out right. He was gone. Lost, floating, his consciousness leaving through the small cuts on his hands, dripping to the floor where it would stay forever. 

He wasn’t aware of Sam’s presence in the room until strong hands were shaking his shoulders, eyes drifting between his hands and the broken ornament before they came to stare directly into Dean. 

He was being pulled into Sam, held tightly like the weak child he was. 

For a second, everything stood still. His tears stayed trapped and his heart stayed tucked safely behind a wall. Then everything spilled over and any frail control he had over himself was gone. 

“He’s gone, Sammy,” he whispered. “Gone.” 

Sam was saying something but it didn’t matter. Dean was too exhausted, too shattered to care. He just let himself be held. Let himself be taken care of as tears fell freely onto Sam’s shoulder. 

Everything was black at the edges. Fading quickly. He’d wake in the morning with a vague memory of this, probably tainted in shame. 

He didn’t care. Let him remember. Let him feel ashamed for who he was, for who he’d let down, for letting Cas go. 

He deserved it. 

tag list below, ask to be added or removed or tagged in some things or literally anything man idk

@starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @dreamnovak @heller-jensen @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @prayedtoyou @good-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @jorian-is-my-new-obsession @starrynightdeancas @radiantdean @piemaker-from-gallifrey @on-a-bender @eshaninjer @trasherasswood @dreadful-delight @feraladoration @trenchcas @contemplativepancakes @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @thefourthheadofcerberus @seffersonjtarship @randomblabbling @craftywitchywoman  @adsp-destielcockles @tehmanda @castielscrookedtrenchcoat @queen-rowenas @expectingtofly @that-one-fandom-chick @mishas-blog-url @destielle @charmedbycastiel @cursed-or-not @faithcastiel @internetintroverts @tasersloth @dea-stiel @lulu-zodiac @my-favourite-hellatus @footstepsontherun @withclawsandsympathy @nguyenxtrang @marichankitty @celestialcastiel @goblinwritergay @deancasology @cassgetoutofmyass0907 @destielskygalaxypalace @anelitefangirl @destiel-bitches @ciniluv @fandomstuff67 @fortiusnitius @equator-juice @bluefirecas @wigglebox

#destiel december #destiel december 2020 #destiel angst #angst #tw suicidal thoughts #destiel #my writing #mine

[the--sad--hatter]

Red - One-Shot (Loki x Reader)

Pairing: Loki/Reader 

Warnings: Injury, blood, moral compass shifting. 

Summary: When the cost of being a hero is too high, what will become of you? And when you’re on the precipice of change, who’s the person who helps you? 

Scores of hero’s had battled him before you had your turn, and it was only luck that placed you in his path when he was already exhausted. Or maybe it wasn’t luck at all.

 Maybe it was fate.

 Whatever it was, it was the crucible in which your downfall was contained. You might have been an Avenger, a fighter, a hero, but you were not equipped to fight a god and survive, let alone win. But he was already weakened by the Widows bite, his ribs bruised by the Captains Shield, his energy depleted by the witches power, his flesh scorched by Iron Man’s repulsors, his spirit sapped by his brothers ego. He had been battled into near submission and when you drove your dagger into his chest, he could not stop it. The blade pierced his skin, sliding between his ribs with ease, and crimson blood poured from the wound you had inflicted, spilling over your hand.

 His blood was cold, dripping down your wrist like icy water and coating your hand like a scarlet glove.  

You both moved in tandem, looking down at the dagger, each as equally shocked as the other. Your breath crystallised in the cold air as you gasped, heart hammering in your chest. It was in the moment you realised you may have slain Loki, that you realised you really didn’t want to. Fear gripped your heart, squeezing until it hurt so much that you couldn’t breathe.

 Had you just killed someone, killed the god of Mischief?

 “You missed.” He whispered, his voice filled with sympathy.

 You’d just stabbed him, and he was showing you sympathy? You dragged your eyes away from the terrible wound you’d inflicted, from your fingers wrapped around the handle of the blade sticking out of his chest. His words settled over the fog around your mind and seeped through it, until they made some kind of sense.

 “I missed?” You repeated hopefully, pleading with your eyes.

 His face softened exponentially as he gave you a small and fleeting smile.

 “Yes. You did not pierce my heart with your dagger.” He clarified, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and very carefully pulling your hand away until you released your grip on the fateful blade.

 You let him manoeuvre your shaking hand away, trying and failing to swallow down the whimper in your throat as blood continued to pulse out the edges of his wound.

 “Wait! No! Stop!” You yelped as he grasped the handle, stalling him before he could pull it out.

 “I must remove it so my body can begin to heal it.” He sighed, his already pale skin growing paler by the second.

 Right, Asgardian, or something. Not human. He probably wouldn’t bleed to death if he removed it, hopefully. You ignored the incessant buzzing in your ears, vaguely familiar voices demanding information, begging for assurances of your safety. All your attention was reserved for Loki, and for what you had done to him. He yanked the blade out in one swift movement, before you had a chance to prepare for it. Crimson liquid welled up in the gash left behind, streaming out of it in an alarming stream, and your hands moved of their own accord, twisting to press against the wound in a fruitless attempt to keep any more of his blood from spilling out. His blood was, quite literally, on your hands.

 What the hell had you done?

 You had trained for this, every day for months. You had been trained to be a hero by the best of them, but you hadn’t prepared yourself for what it meant to be a killer. Adrenaline and training had pushed you forward in your task, and only when the blade had sunk deep and it was too late, did you realise what your task really was.

 “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, choking on the fucking useless apology. “Please don’t die. I don’t want you to die.”

 “You don’t want me to die, or you don’t want to be my killer?” He chuckled weakly, devoid of humour and dripping with weariness.

 But even as he had asked the harsh but fair question, his hand cupped your cheek, gently lifting your face until you met his eyes. There was absolutely no anger in his gaze, none. No rage, no hate, no disdain. Just exhaustion, pain, and sympathy.

 “I don’t want you to die.” You admitted.

 You didn’t want to kill him, you didn’t want to kill anyone, you knew that now. But more than that, you didn’t like that he was hurt, and you couldn’t bear to see him injured any further. He was supposed to be the villain here, but he was the one comforting his attempted assassin, and the hero’s were the one ‘s who had put the knife in your hand and told you where to strike.

 Good and bad weren’t simple concepts right now, they weren’t black and white. They were just red, blood red.

 “In that, we have common ground. I would prefer to survive this as well.” He sassed, and against all odd you found a laugh bubbling out of your chest.

 “There, that’s much better.” He crowed softly, tracing the edge of your smile with his thumb.

 “Why? I hurt you. I…” You whispered against his fingertips.

 “You’re not like the others, you’re not like anyone. Of all those who have hurt me, and there have been many, you are the first to show any kind of remorse. Strong enough to stab a god, and kind enough to cry for him.” He explained. “You are not like them.”

 Your heart had been hanging on by a flimsy thread, but his admittance obliterated it. You could feel the fissure’s running through it, feel it tremble in your chest, and just as it was about to crumble into dust, he wrapped his arm around your waist and strode forwards, leading you with him in some kind of tragic waltz across the battlefield. Darkness fell over the two of you as he backed you into the shadows of a nearby building, pressing you further into the darkness as the sky shook and the familiar figure of Thor fell from the clouds and landed on the concrete.

 Loki’s arms fell away from you and he stepped to the side, letting you see what he’d left behind. You, held aloft in his grip, eyes filled with fear. An illusion, meant for Thor.

 “LOKI!” Thor bellowed. “Unhand her, and face me brother!”

 “Step out of the shadows, show him you are quite safe.” Loki, the real Loki whispered.

 An offer, not a challenge. One you didn’t understand the point of.

 “Or?” You asked.

 “Let The Avengers watch you burn into ash at my hand, and escape them and the life you so clearly do not want.”

 He was offering to kill you. To have your team watch you die. A cruel offer, a dark one, but…

 You didn’t want this life, he was right. And you never really had, you had only gone along with everybody else’s plans for you. You had let Earth’s Mightiest Hero’s mould you, twist you into one of them, suit you up as an Avenger, never once really telling you what that might mean. What it might cost you.

 Cruel, Dark, and Justified.

 “Kill me.” You hissed decisively.

 They would suffer, but they would survive. You weren’t close to them, not really. There would be some guilt, a little anger, and then they would move on. They would be more affected by having lost something to Loki, than actually having lost you. So you didn’t feel a shred of guilt as illusory flames roared to life over your doppelgänger.

 Thor’s roar was all rage, and not pain. His eyes were fixed upon the fake Loki, and not the smouldering remains of what he believed to be you. Loki’s illusion moved in tandem with him, both conjuring a glowing blue cube from nowhere. In the distance you saw the rest of The Avengers converge upon the scene, and you turned your back on them, concerning yourself with the only thing that mattered anymore.

 “Take me away.” You begged, ripping the jacket of your super suit off and pressing it to Loki’s wound.  

 The hero was dead, long live whatever the hell you were going to become now.

 “Come. Freedom awaits us.” Loki whispered in your ear, wrapping his arm around you once again as the world bled into blue.

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#loki #loki x reader #avengers #the avengers #the avengers x reader

[jaskiersvalley]

Hey, I just went through your entire blog in two days only and I wanna say, your writing is astounding! I haven't had a chance to watch the show yet as I can't afford Netflix right now, but you're fics were a truly fine introduction to the fandom Much love and keep being awesome! ~M

It’s you!!! I watched you blast through my blog with likes and reblogs and was absolutely in awe of you. Thank you so much for being such an avid reader and supporter. You single-handedly made me smile so much. And because words of thanks never feel like enough, I give the only thing I can, a ficlet of gratitude!

Education at Kaer Morhen involved a lot of things. Different weapons, physical fitness, hunting, foraging, identifying poisons by scent, even sewing to mend clothes. However, there were a lot of things it didn’t involve. Things that a witcher couldn’t possibly need. Music was definitely one of those things, Jaskier mused because Geralt obviously had zero appreciation of the art. But other things too which were less about being cultured and more about basic skills.

There were moments where Jaskier suspected things but didn’t want to believe them, Put them down to Geralt being Geralt. He obviously preferred information first hand, always seeking out the alderman or asking locals where to find the poster of the contract. Sometimes Jaskier just watched Geralt in front of a board like it was the world’s greatest word search. At times, he’d skip over a contract and Jaskier couldn’t figure out why. But pointing it out usually had Geralt frowning at the piece of parchment and huff out something about it not striking his fancy (as if witchers could ever pick and choose amongst contracts) or it not being valuable enough (as if that had ever stopped Geralt before - the man seemed to thrive on helping the poor). A pattern emerged after a while though and Jaskier didn’t want to think about the implications. The contracts Geralt skipped over didn’t contain the words ‘contract’, ‘monster’, or ‘witcher’. Which led to some alarming implications.

It wasn’t something Jaskier could delicately raise, lead Geralt to realising he knew and wanted to help. Also, Jaskier couldn’t very well corner the man and accuse him of being unable to read. Because if he was wrong, Geralt’s allegedly nonexistent emotions would be very hurt. So, Jaskier did the simplest thing he could. Whenever Geralt went to look at a village noticeboard, he tagged along and pointed at random papers, reading them out loud. Once or twice he fudged up words but Geralt never seemed to realise that the advert Jaskier was pointing at was for a laundry service rather than for a tailoring service he was describing.

“Why are you pointing out such useless adverts?” Geralt snapped.

“Just thought you’d be interested.” Jaskier shrugged and plucked the contract Geralt was looking for from the board. “Here. This is the one you want.” It didn’t have any of the key words Geralt tended to look for. There was no thanks thrown his way and Geralt stomped off, the parchment clutched in a tighter grip than usual.

It went on like that, each time Jaskier got more and more certain he was right, Geralt couldn’t read.

“What do you think of this one?” Jaskier plucked a random advert and pushed it into Geralt’s hand who stared at it with contempt. It was advertising a littler of puppies from a good guard dog lineage.

“What about it?” Vague, carefully eyeing the advert but not acknowledging any of it. Jaskier’s heart broke a little. Given how often he had shoved the necessary contract into Geralt’s hand, it was obvious Geralt was trying to figure out whether it was a contract or not. The price in the corner suggested it wasn’t but the poor couldn’t always pay in coin. Sometimes other goods or services were written down which he would negotiate verbally.

“You’re not tempted?” It was cruel but Jaskier had enough of the song and dance.

“For so little?” Geralt scoffed, hedging his bets on Jaskier not screwing him over by putting something other than a contract in his hands all of a sudden.

Ever so gently, Jaskier took the advert and pinned it back up to try and hide the sound of his heart breaking. “You’re right. I don’t think there’s much for us in the village. Come on.”

They turned away but Jaskier saw Geralt turn back, a small frown on his face as he looked at the advert Jaskier had put back, clearly not understanding. Returning to their room at the inn, Jaskier knew he had to end the farce. He pulled a book from his bag and passed it to Geralt who stared at it, more disgusted by it than any kind of head or guts he’s waded through on a hunt.

“What’s this?”

“A book.”

“I know that. But why are you handing it to me?” Geralt set it to the side, not even glancing at it.

“Given we’ve got a bit of downtime, you’ve tended to your swords last night, I thought you might fancy a bit of a change. Does the title not intrigue you?”

A gruff “no” had Jaskier’s eyebrow raising as he sat down on the bed with a small smile. “You mean, a monster compendium is not something of interest?” He had picked it up a little while ago, intent on learning more about Geralt’s potential enemies, even if the book didn’t have all the facts correct, it was a good starting place. “Or maybe you’d want to go through it with me and correct the mistakes?”

Watching Geralt try and find a way out of it was painful. He frowned, frowned harder and ended up growling in his throat, turning away from the book with a moody “no”.

“I could teach you,” Jaskier offered quietly. “If you’d like to read.”

Silence stretched and Geralt’s back was stiff obviously coiled tight and ready to either fight or flee. “Since when has a witcher ever read a monster to death?” That sounded far too much like something Geralt had learned from someone else and all Jaskier could think of was a young Geralt being denied the chance to learn to read over and over again with such cruel and mocking words. However, it wasn’t a no.

Moving quietly, Jaskier grabbed the book and settled on the bed with enough room next to him for Geralt to join if he so wished. Cracking the book open, he began to read out loud. It took a minute but Geralt eventually joined him, looking angry and disinterested but Jaskier knew better. He was scared, terrified even, of being mocked, of being found wanting. Not breaking his reading, Jaskier adjusted his grip on the book so he could pull his finger under the words as he read them, letting Geralt follow.

They spent a few days like that, Jaskier reading aloud and Geralt watching, listening to how the words sounded compared to how they looked. Jaskier even picked up a few other books, much simpler, suited for children really. He swapped out to one of those books as they sat in a clearing in a forest, away from everyone and everything. Shoulder to shoulder, Jaskier got Geralt to haltingly grit out the sentence “the cat lost his hat”. It was perhaps the proudest Jaskier had ever been and the small, satisfied look on Geralt’s face was worth it.

Months down the line, when Geralt was able to sit next to Jaskier and read aloud from the book of monsters and laugh together about the inaccuracies, there was a soft lull. In fact, Geralt looked nervous as he pushed to book into Jaskier’s hands.

“I’ve got something for you.” Eager, Jaskier sat up, smile wide. He was expecting a kiss, maybe some oil for his lute or, if Geralt was feeling especially romantic, some jewellery. “It’s something I’ve been working on in secret.”

Reaching into his pack, Geralt pulled out a bit of parchment folded in half. On the front of it was a crudely drawn heart, obviously done by someone who wasn’t artistically inclined. It was shoved gruffly into Jaskier’s hands and he opened up what was a handmade card.

To Jaskier,

Thahk Thank yuo.

I lov yuo.

Geratt Geralt.

It was, without a doubt, the most precious thing Jaskier had ever been gifted, spelling mistakes and all. Because while he had gotten Geralt reading, it never even occurred to him that writing would be another skill to teach. All the education at Oxenfurt was something Jaskier had taken for granted until now. With Geralt by his side, he realised it was a gift, one that he was delighted to share with his beloved.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #illiterate geralt #tldr: geralt can't read and jaskier puts his education to good use

[flowers-creativity]

Fic: The One Bed Job

Fandom:  Leverage

Characters: Eliot Spencer, Parker, Alec Hardison

Warnings: None

Summary: A rainstorm forces Eliot, Parker and Hardison to take shelter in a cabin in the woods. There is only one problem ...

Notes: Written for Spud (@callipygianspud) for the @leverage-secret-santa-exchange with the prompts “Parker/Hardison/Eliot, oh no one bed?!?!, slice of life bickering”.

There are a lot of firsts in this story for me, most notably that it's my first Leverage fic ever! It was a lot of fun working on it - thanks to the mods of the Leverage Secret Santa Exchange for organising this 😊.

I’m late in posting it because I missed that the authors had been revealed but finally, here it is on my blog, too.

AO3 link

Eliot threw the truck into park and stared out the windshield at the desolate view: a cabin in the middle of the woods, looking small and forlorn in the wind that had been picking up speed over the last hour. Rain was driving diagonally across the picture, and he didn't want to make any bets on how long it would be until it was going fully horizontal. “Damn it, Hardison, that's the best you can do?”

“Hey man, you wanna try finding a place to stay in the middle of nowhere during a rainstorm, with no advance warning?” Hardison twisted in his seat and stabbed a finger at him. “I'm not freaking clairvoyant, couldn't have known it woulda hit so hard!”

“Yeah, well, always actin' like you are,” Eliot growled as he unbuckled his seat belt. There was no use arguing, they were out of other options. Not that it would stop him from doing it anyway. “C'mon, let's look at that rat's nest you found for us.”

“No appreciation, man,” Hardison mumbled. He took off his seat belt, then twisted around and nudged the lump that was Parker on the backbench, just a shock of blonde hair peeking out from under the blanket she'd wrapped herself in. “Hey mama, we're here. Time to wake up!”

The lump protested sleepily but finally uncurled to reveal the thief who stretched and yawned mightily. “Where's here?” she asked.

“Cabin in the woods,” Hardison said. “Storm's getting pretty bad, so Eliot wanted to stop driving. Never mind that we're in a Faraday cage,” he added, raising his voice so the hitter just about to close the driver's side door could hear him, “but apparently the only thing frightening big bad Spencer is some lightning. Can't hit that, eh?”

“Hardison,” Eliot said grumpily, pulling the door open again, “you wanna wrap the car around a tree 'cause you can't see with the rain comin' down so hard, be my guest.”

Parker snorted and leaned forward to give Hardison a quick peck on the nose. “He's got a point there,” she pointed out.

Eliot flashed her a quick look of thanks, fighting down the incongruous urge to have a corner of his mouth tick up. It wasn't a smile; it wasn't. And it wasn't a problem that his face constantly wanted to do that around those two lately. He finally slammed the door shut and switched on the heavy-duty flashlight he kept in the truck's cabin at all times. He more sensed than heard the passenger side's door opening and the other two hustling after him as he made his way towards the cabin, the rain soaking him down to the skin within moments.

The door was locked; he contemplated it for a moment, then stepped aside. “Parker, do your thing,” he commanded, directing the beam of light onto the lock. She gave a quick sound of delight and dove forwards with her lock picks appearing in her hands like magic. That lock wouldn't take her more than five seconds, he knew, but even that was probably a treat for her after an exhausting job that had her do most of the grifting. No matter how much she had grown and learned since they had become a team, coming into her own in both the grifter and the mastermind role, she would never love it as much as she did the jobs where she could be what she really was, a cat burglar and safecracker.

It was maybe eight seconds until the lock clicked and Parker stood back up. She frowned a bit at the door as she pocketed her lock picks. “Sorry, I'm off my game,” she said.

Hardison huffed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don't be ridiculous, babe, you're fine. A bit tired, that's all.”

Eliot nodded and gave her a quick pat on the back before he pushed open the door and went ahead into the cabin. “Stay here,” he told them as he swept the flashlight's beam through the room.

Hardison rolled his eyes so hard Eliot could hear it even though he had his back turned. “No need to unpack the guard dog routine, El,” he said, and another flashlight beam joined his. “It's a cabin in the middle of the woods. If there's anything dangerous, it'll be a bunch of spiders or a raccoon at best. C'mon, I wanna get inside and get dry.”

Eliot flashed him a nasty grin over his shoulder. “You're the geek, tell me how many horror movies there are that look just like this,” he said. “And how the black guy usually does in them.”

“Damn, man, don't you use pop culture against me, that's just wrong,” Hardison complained.

Parker snorted a laugh, still leaning against Hardison's side. “We'll protect you, Eliot and I,” she told him earnestly, then slipped from his arm and had his flashlight in her hand a blink of an eye later. “I'll help him make the security sweep, and you find out if there's electricity.”

Hardison sighed in defeat and waved them off, shaking his head. “Then go do what you gotta do.”

“Nice to know we have your approval,” Eliot said with a smile that was all teeth and very little warmth (no matter that he wanted to put a lot more into it). Nevertheless, he didn't further protest Parker's joining him and sent her off to check one of the two doors leading from the main room while he finished sweeping its meager contents – a small table with two rickety chairs, a wood stove and an old cupboard that held a little bit of crockery, a battered pot and a few cans of soup. He left Hardison to poke around near the stove, mumbling to himself about barbaric conditions and using his phone as a flashlight, and headed for the second door.

It didn't take much time to determine that this was the bathroom, such as it was, and little more to check the shabby toilet and sink – they worked, which was probably the best they could hope for. When he emerged back into the main room, he found that Parker had just done so, too, and was now perched on the table. For once he could not fault her for her propensity never to sit on a chair like a normal person; the table looked like a much safer bet.

“That's the bedroom,” she reported immediately once she caught sight of him coming back, pointing at the room she had checked. “Nothing there but a lot of dust and spiderwebs.” She grinned brightly. “Only one bed, though. We'll have to snuggle close, it's not very big.”

“Wa---” Eliot was vaguely aware that he was standing there gaping like a moron but his mind was stuck on Parker talking about snuggling in one bed.

“Huh, what was that, Eliot?” Hardison had abandoned whatever he had been doing with the stove – couldn't have been lighting a fire, he severely doubted Hardison could do that – and came over, leaning against the wall next to the table with Parker on it, both of them weirdly illuminated by the display light of Hardison's phone.

Eliot finally marshaled his thoughts enough to grind out: “I'm sure you'll be fine for one night. I'll take the floor.” Parker must have been talking about herself and Hardison anyway, no reason to assume that she wanted to snuggle with him – even if his traitorous heart had done just that.

Parker frowned. “What? No, you won't,” she said with a shake of her head. “Not when there's a bed and no reason for you to be on watch. We'll fit in there the three of us.”

“Wha-- Dammit, Parker, you can't just get into bed with any man!” Eliot protested.

“Fine, then Hardison and you can take the floor.” She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him, the challenge more conveyed by her tone than by her expression he couldn't see too clearly in the gray light on her face. Next to her, Hardison made an outraged sound, just as Eliot sputtered:

“What? No, why should Hardison sleep on the floor?”

“Well, if I can't get in bed with any man, then I can't get in bed with you two, since you're both men,” she said with a shrug, in that tone that clearly said that she thought she was being perfectly reasonable.

“But he's not any man,” Eliot pointed out, “he's your boyfriend.”

“Okay,” she said, cocking her head to the side in one of those moves that made her look sort of like a bird, “but you're not any man, too. You're Eliot. My--” she broke off, gave a short sideways glance to Hardison and then continued: “Our-- You're Eliot. So you can come, too.”

Eliot sputtered again, and how did she always manage to have that effect on him? He was Eliot goddamn Spencer, he was always in control, but she stole it from him as easily as pick-pocketing a watch was for her, with nothing more than a few words and looks. He desperately looked to Hardison. “Back me up here, c'mon, man!”

Hardison, the son of a bitch, just shrugged, his teeth white in the dim light as he grinned. “You heard the lady,” he said, “you're not any man, so you can get in bed with her, I mean, with us, any time.”

“I-- But--!” Eliot raked his left hand through his hair, casting around for the right thing to say, to make sense of these words in a way that didn't make warmth spread through his chest and … somewhere else that had made a very specific sense of it and was sitting up and taking notice. In the back of his mind, another part was busy pointing out that in a way, any man was probably better to have in your bed than Eliot Spencer. It was surprisingly easy to disregard this voice, though, just as Parker and Hardison disregarded his words whenever he pointed it out to them. He had told them so a hundred, a thousand times, even had shown them glimpses of it a few times – the swimming pool, probably even the warehouse, despite Nate's promise not to tell anyone – and they had always sailed past it without the slightest worry despite what he had been, what he still was. And he knew it was true: whatever danger he presented, it never was a danger connected to his past. Only to a present that he held sacred in his heart like a talisman, like he had held preciously little since he had lost faith in God and the American flag and whatever else he had believed in once upon a time.

“Helloo-ho!” Hardison suddenly loomed up in front of him, his face just inches away from him. “Earth to Eliot!”

Eliot honest to God flinched and took a step back. “Dammit, Hardison!”

The hacker raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You back with us, man?” He looked him over seriously. “Honestly, I'm starting to think you're getting sick. You're usually more with it than that.”

Eliot took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “I'm fine,” he gritted out. He let his shoulders slump down. Sleeping in one bed it was. “You had any luck with that stove?” he asked Hardison in a bid of hopefully redirecting the conversation.

Hardison shrugged. “Not really, there's some old ashes and half-burnt wood in it but I don't have a lighter. I'm sure you can get it going, right? Don't tell me you haven't been a Boy Scout, too.”

“Nope.” Eliot hoped the relief and eagerness with which he fell into their banter was not too obvious. “Army boot camp's better than that, anyway. Plus, y’know, spending lots of time in the actual wilderness, not some parent's backyard.” He dug into one of his pockets for a lighter and wandered over to the stove, angling the flashlight beam into the open compartment.

Parker had her chin in her hands as she watched him with her usual Parker intensity. “Backyards sound boring,” she agreed. “But you should take us camping some time! We can throw Hardison off a cliff instead of a building!”

This time it was Hardison who was sputtering, and Eliot couldn't resist, he laughed, a bark that reverberated deep in his chest. “That's a great idea, darlin',” he drawled, grinning at the hacker.

“Now that's just unfair! Two against one! And no one's throwing Hardison off any cliffs, are we clear? Are we clear?”

Parker pouted at him. “Aww. You went on that fishing trip with Eliot, didn't you? I want to do something like that with you, too, with both of you.”

Eliot scowled at the reminder of how their fishing trip hadn't happened after that stand-off with a white supremacist militia. “Not exactly like that, preferably,” he growled under his breath. Louder, he said, “I think Hardison had a problem with the cliff thing, not with going on a trip with you, Parker. We can keep that in mind, okay? For now, just let's get through the night.”

In the meantime, he had kept working on the stove, pushing the old ashes to the side and rearranging the partly burnt wood into a neat pile. He looked around for some old paper to start the fire, then reconsidered. The small fire would be pretty useless to heat or light the room.

“Any of you hungry? There's some soup in cans.”

Hardison and Parker exchanged a look, then shook their heads.

Eliot sighed and stood up, brushing off the knees of his jeans. “Then we don't need to bother with the fire. We'd need some candles or a torch for some real light. Don't think it would produce much heat to get the room warm, either.”

Parker shrugged. “I don't have any candles.”

Hardison grinned. “I guess if we're cold, we just need to snuggle close in our bed,” he said, and Eliot's belly did another backflip at the thought of the three of them in one bed together.

Parker laughed and dropped down from her perch on the table, grabbed Hardison's hand, then lunged and did the same with Eliot's. “Come on, I'll show you,” she said brightly and pulled them over to the door she'd discovered the bedroom behind earlier.

“Parker, that's --- Parker, I can walk on my own,” Eliot protested but it was halfhearted at best. He turned towards Hardison but found little sympathy there.

“Just go with the flow,” the hacker told him. “Relax.”

Eliot bit back a retort and instead just took a deep breath, his feet automatically following where Parker led. Relax. As if that was a thing he could do when he was about to get into the same bed as his two best friends. As the two people he-- He-- His thoughts kept stalling but he knew the word that should go there.

In the small bedroom, Parker let go of his hand, and he took in the room and the furniture occupying it, which was just one more of those rickety chairs, with Parker's flashlight on it casting a beam through the shadows, and the bed itself. It was small indeed, and short enough that Eliot guessed Hardison's feet would hang over the edge. Parker and he should be fine – for a certain measure of fine when he was intruding where he didn't belong. Never mind that they seemingly didn't see anything wrong with it, even though they were the couple…

Meanwhile, Parker had taken possession of the bed, pulling back the covers. She looked back at the two men contemplatively, then shrugged and quickly pulled off her shirt, sending it flying toward the chair. At Eliot's spluttered “Parker!”, she shot him an annoyed glare. “What? It's wet,” she explained as she unzipped her pants and shimmied out of them, then threw them after the shirt. Eliot averted his eyes and prayed for strength.

When he looked back, she had slipped under the covers, and Hardison was sitting at the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes and socks, his phone on the quilt next to him. Hardison looked up at him, and his dark eyes were soft in the beam of Eliot's flashlight. “Eliot, man,” he started, then stopped, then started again. “Look, man, you don't have to if you don't really feel comfortab-- Ouch, Parker!” The thief had straightened up and slugged him in the back of the shoulder. “C'mon, he should only do it if he really wants to!”

“But he does!” she hissed at him, then turned towards Eliot. “You want to, right? You want to be with us. Like, here with us.” She gestured between the two of them and then the bed as a whole, and Eliot's heart constricted in his chest. Yes, God, how he wanted to.

“Because we want you, too.” She looked at him hopefully, not bothered in the least that the blankets were pooling in her lap and she was only wearing a simple black sports bra in the cabin's cool air. He tried to look away but couldn't, not when her eyes were holding him captive like that. They wanted him? Just for snuggling in a small, unheated cabin in the middle of nowhere? Or… for something more?

Eliot pushed that thought way back in his mind. He needed to stay in the here and now. And maybe, just maybe, he could just be selfish tonight and take what they were offering. If that was all it was, he would deal with it. Would it be better or worse than never having had any of it? He didn't know.

Hardison was looking at him steadily. “Your decision, El,” he told him, “but we're here. Whenever you're ready, we'll be there.”

And that—that did actually sound like this was more than just a night of snuggling close for warmth. Eliot took a deep breath, closed his eyes and released it. When he opened them again, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Yeah, I'm--” He stopped and decided to give up trying.

Instead, he put his flashlight on the chair next to Parker's, then bent down to untie his boots and quickly stripped off his jeans and his soggy outer layers, leaving him in a mostly dry T-shirt and boxers. A few more steps brought him to the bed where Hardison had joined Parker under the covers, his torso bare. Both of them were looking at him with so much hope that it was the easiest thing in the world to lift the edge of the covers and slip in after them. He smiled at them and said softly, “Hey.”

“Hey you,” Hardison said and as if it was nothing, he put his arm around Eliot's shoulders and pulled him close. From his other side, Parker put her arm across Hardison's body until her small, strong hand rested on Eliot's chest. “I'm glad you're here,” she told him. Then she gave him a short whack. “So now, snuggling and sleep,” she ordered. “The rest can wait until tomorrow.”

Eliot felt his smile grow into a grin and turned it into the crook of Hardison's neck. “Yes, ma'am,” he replied seriously.

And as he crowded closer to Hardison and reached for Parker with an arm across the other man's stomach, Eliot did as any good soldier would do and followed the order given by his leader. It was probably his favorite order of all time.

#flower writes #fanfic #leverage #secret santa exchange #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #there's only one bed #OT3 #hardison/parker/eliot

[unholyplumpprincess]

Breathing Exercises

Lil Caustic thing for a text post that said smth along the lines of “Wrap your hands around my throat and choke me until I can’t breathe and whisper ‘Cum if you want to breathe’.” And well damn if that didn’t inspire me for him. This is also totally a quiet present for @soulheartthewolf bc that’s Caustic’s spouse.

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D

!!!18+ only. Minors and ageless blogs dni or you’ll be blocked!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Caustic/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gender neutral but has a vulva, choking/asphyxiation, breath play, mentions of other kinks such as breeding kinks and deep throat training, also mentions of Caustic’s sex repulsion and erectile dysfunction bc listen man it happens and soft dicks are cute.

Words: 1.4k

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Alexander loved to test limits.  

Even more so- he loved to test your limits.  

When times his sex repulsion and love of his work did not blind him to carnal urges, you were more than a willing subject in whatever sort of experimentation he wanted to conduct. Aphrodisiac gas tests had been one of many things you had been subjected to, then testing how big an object you could deep throat and training you to take longer and longer until you were so out of it in sub space you nearly forgot to breathe. Or to more things along the lines of him seeing how much cum you could hold just for him, plugged up in you with a cute little plug and his promises of filling you with more after he’s rested.  

Yes, you were more than willing to experiment any of these limits.  

~Rest under the cut~

It also went into testing his own limits. Alexander lacked that sort of empathy one might have for if you were crying or sobbing. Of course, you two had safe words and safe signals for this sort of play, but there was something a little more...exciting knowing that you could kick, whine, sob, and he would just blink at you with acidic green eyes and not even flinch.  

Today? Today is not a repulsion day. You know this when you feel a gloved hand grip your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze as you work at your computer to get the editing of the games done. You watch him pass by you, his arms tucked behind his back, and watch one finger make a quick gesture of ‘Come here’.  

Editing could wait.    

You’re up and following him instantly, more than curious of the plan. Alexander was always straight forward on explanations, no beating around the bush, so you had time to ask questions or say your own peace about if it was something you wanted to do.  

When you enter his bedroom, everything is normally methodically laid out on the bed, but all you can see is a bottle of lube. Curious at such a basic set up, you glance at him and find he is already ready to explain himself.  

Breath play. Asphyxiation. And control all involved. Alexander explains it as if he’s discussing anything scientific. “It shall merely be a test of your lungs. If bruising is to occur, I shall take fault and ensure you are safely healed before your departure to your quarters.” He’d explained coolly, making a small gesture of his hand at his throat when he mentions bruising. You try not to squirm at the idea of him grabbing you so hard you bruise, but you must because the corners of his lips twitch in amusement.  

“Sounds fun.” You manage to breathe out as professionally as you possibly can in a scenario like this. And when he gestures for your clothing to be taken off, you oblige.  

--  

By the time you’re thoroughly stretched and prepped, Alexander is already half hard. With older age and the size of his dick, you’d call that an impressive feat as is. Even then, the fact that he’s not fully hard makes it easier for him to squeeze inside of you without too much pinching.  

The first few thrusts make you whine, curling your fingers into the sheets and tossing your head to the side. You breathe out a few noises, hitching your leg around his hip to draw him closer. Alexander, despite what everyone thought would be cruel hearted and callous in a relationship, doesn’t make you feel unwanted. Especially now. Resting a large, calloused hand over your thigh to draw you closer, his other resting by your head and you take the opportunity to turn your head to press a chaste kiss to his wrist.  

“If you are trying to delay this endeavor, it is working.” Alexander says, his voice low and gruff with pleasure and only the tiniest bit playful. You grin brightly, turning your head and your lips falling into a gasp when his hand drops to your cunt. Pressing on your mound and using two fingers to rub your clit.  

“Fuck- no-  ah - wouldn't...wouldn’t dream of it-” You whimper out, dropping your leg from his waist to thrust your hips up once to get closer to the pressure and angle him just right against your g-spot.  

That’s when the hand that had been so deliciously rubbing your clit comes right back up with his other hand, both hands wrapping around your throat but his hips never stilling.  

Your eyes widen, having not prepared with a breath and you expect that’s what he wanted. Your hand flies up to grab his wrist, a noise wheezing from your nose as you feel his fingers press on either side of your throat. Alexander stays like that a few moments, undoubtedly feeling your inner walls clamping and fluttering in time with your struggles, before easing his grip.  

You suck in a deep breath, a whine exhaling from your lungs as your hands fly down to grab his ass. You delight in the way Alexander makes a gasp sound at the motion when you tug him again but this time you whine out, “Roll over, I know your knees are going to be killing you.” Despite your lungs still aching for air.  

There’s a grumble of him telling you not to order him, but he obeys regardless. Adjusting to lie back on his back with relief flashing in his eyes, only for his tight facial expression to melt into pleasure when you grab his cock and guide him back into you with a sigh.  

From this angle, his grip on your throat feels purposeful. You ride him still as best as you can until your vision starts to dot and you hold still, feeling him vaguely fucking up into you like a starved beast. Again, you’re released once your eyes start to roll back into your head, and once again your lungs ache with every breath.  

It isn’t until you get close  does  he  grip  and not let go despite your whines and the smacking of his chest. You’re grinding in his lap, your thigh muscles twitching and your nails sinking into his chest with each claw. But all he simply growls out is, “Cum if you want to breathe, little rabbit.”  

Your vision is dotting, your hips start to move more frantically, grinding yourself down onto his cock as your lips part but nothing goes into your lungs. Your entire body is trembling and you know your face must be purple by now, but as soon as your inner walls start to clench and you feel the heat slam down of your orgasm, that’s when you feel him let go.  

The pleasure of your orgasm plus the relief of air flooding your lungs is too much. Tears stream down your face and you aren’t sure what your body is doing until you feel Alexander grabbing your hips and forcing you to fuck yourself onto him. You sob out, overstimulated and shaking your head, hands coming down to try and push weakly at his chest despite how hard your own chest hurts from trying to take in air.  

When Alexander cums, his hands clamp down hard on your hips. Squeezing you tight and making sure you hold still to take every drop. He’s not very loud when he cums, only a shaky grunt at first before his head falls back and you can see his brow furrow and his lips set into a tight line.  

When he finishes, you whine and flop on top of him, pressing your face into his neck despite the heat. You’re grateful when his hands start moving up and down your back, gently stroking to ease you undoubtedly.  

“You have bruises on your neck.” He murmurs, turning his head so you can hear him. You think the way his chest vibrates with the thickness of his voice is soothing. You hum in turn, making a sound to tell him it’s no big deal.  

“Get up. I will tend to you.” He tries again, only making you whine louder and push your weight harder on top of him despite knowing he could just push you off. Instead, he pretends he is trapped, groaning lightly under you. “I do not cuddle.”  

“Tough luck, doc, you’re a cuddler tonight.” You grumble back in his neck, adjusting your hips so his cock could act as a plug fuller in you. The resulting grunt you take as a grunt of defeat.  

Yeah maybe you’ll wear these bruises for fun.  

#Caustic #Caustic x reader #apex legends #Apex lemons #nsft #lemon #princess writing

[questionedturkey]

Wait why does a portion of the DBD fandom dislike Blight simps? Like idk I think that people who are down to get down with The Spirit have no high ground in here. It's just odd because I wouldn't think that people who simp for mildly monstrous characters would try to shove people, who simp for more monstrous characters, into lockers you know?

I have given this a lot of thought and I genuinely have no idea and the guesses that I have are weak at best. Here’s the reason I THINK they hate it:

1. Many of the people who love the blight but dont simp for him or want him shipped with anyone is for kinning reasons. They project onto Talbot and seeing him in suggestive or romantic situations feels sort of like a violation. This is fine! I can completely understand this. Block and remove the content you dont want to see or that makes you upset, no matter how small or seemingly unreasonable it is. Cater your online experience for yourself!

2. They are “woke” small accounts who want people to like them. I guess they might see liking monstrous characters as problematic and want the performative activism points??? so bigger blogs who agree with them like them??? maybe??? this one is weak at best

3. They just decided that liking monstrous characters is weird an anyone who disagrees is also weird. Theyve decided what is and isnt allowed and enforce their arbitrary rules via vague posting and shit talking and anyone who interacts with said people are “out of the club” and are blocked and shit talked too. This one seems crazy right but ive literally seen it happen time and time again in many fandoms INCLUDING the blight one. 

4. They think Blight is an old man FOR SOME REASON??? HeS NOT??? but for some reason people think he is and think the age gap is weird or somethin dude idk 

I mean its cool if you dont want to see Talbot shipped or s*xualized but making this big of a deal out of it and openly talking shit about people who do it is playground shit. grow up. 

im all down for people liking what they like and hating what they hate but like. mind your own business about it lmao we dont need to know that you dont like us and it wont stop us sooooooo yeah lol 

thats the best i got, wonder if i even came close

#dbd #dead by daylight #the blight #talbot grimes #then they have no issues with michael myers simps #because hes hot #like #ok #if talbot was conventionally attractive he'd have hundreds of simps #if his personality was literally the exact same and he was just hot #these people would have no issue #just admit its because you think hes ugly and go