#Announcing the Continuation of US Neutrality

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!��� the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

[sayruq]

Berlin announced on 23 April that it will resume cooperation with the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) in Gaza. Germany’s move came after an independent investigation headed by former French diplomat Catherine Colonna that found “neutrality-related issues” in implementing UNRWA’s procedures to “ensure compliance with the humanitarian principles of neutrality.” Colonna’s report made note that Israel provided no proof of whether UNRWA staff were involved with the Palestinian resistance’s Operation Al-Aqsa Flood on 7 October. “The German government has dealt intensively with the allegations made by Israel against UNRWA and has been in close contact with the Israeli government, the United Nations, and other international donors,” a joint statement by the German Foreign Office and the Ministry for Economic Cooperation and Development read. The former French diplomat’s investigation proposed reforms to UNRWA to increase the neutrality of staff and behavior, education, and governance, including methods to achieve these goals through engagement with donors. Germany pushed UNRWA to implement these recommendations, strengthen its internal audit functions, and improve the external surveillance of project management. “In support of these reforms, the German government will soon continue its cooperation with UNRWA in Gaza, as Australia, Canada, Sweden, and Japan, among others, have already done so,” the joint statement continued. Germany gave the UN agency over $200 million in 2023 and is the organization’s second-largest donor after the US. In an interview with Al-Jazeera, UNRWA chief Philippe Lazzarini said the attacks on the agency “have nothing to do with neutrality issues but in reality, they are motivated by the objective to strip the Palestinians from the refugee status.”

[ao3org]

Updates to AO3 "Mythology" Fandoms

Hi AO3 users! You may have noticed that recently, fandoms previously canonized as "Mythology" are being updated to "Religion & Lore". This renaming project is part of a wider ongoing process on AO3 about respectful treatment and naming of various religions, spiritual beliefs, faiths, and collections of folklores belonging to a particular religious or cultural tradition. This includes both major and minor religions, as well as reconstructionist, ancient, and modern religions.

In the coming months, the term "Mythology" is being phased out of canonical fandom names. This is because of its potential for use as a disparaging term, and the way in which it is used primarily for religions which are already under-represented. Since "mythology" has connotations of being fictional or inferior to the religious beliefs of the speaker or writer, and is unfortunately used in this way by some, the decision has been made to replace this term with something that the Wrangling Committee believes is more inclusive and less derogatory.

After extensive discussion between individuals from varying religious backgrounds and beliefs, including wranglers representing the various fandoms which were being covered, it was felt that "Religion & Lore" was an appropriate and neutral way to describe the bodies of faith, belief, knowledge, and tradition associated with many of these religions which were ancestrally imparted and regional in nature. It is also hoped that this will decrease ambiguous or confused use, allowing people to more accurately describe their works and find works in which they are interested moving forward.

The use of "Ancient" in many of these fandoms' names reflects that these countries still exist but now have different predominant religions or spiritual beliefs. For example, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore (as Greece is now a predominantly Christian country) or Ancient Egyptian Religion (as Egypt is now a predominantly Muslim country). Because "Norse" does not refer to an extant country, region, or culture, it is not necessary to specify that it is historical or ancient in nature.

The names of these fandoms will also have the native language piped, if the English-language demonym is significantly different from the native-language demonym or if there is a culturally specific term based on consultation with individuals who speak these languages as a first language. We hope to give representation to the language of the source culture by doing so.

Each of these changes has been and will continue to be carefully researched and discussed with traditional knowledge keepers and researchers from the cultures represented in the fandoms under discussion.

Many religions face the issue of texts being written long after their events occurred. Unfortunately this is something which is shared across many religious fandoms; AO3 seeks to treat these religious fandoms equally. Care has been taken in researching characters relating to these fandoms, and character tags will be canonized or made a synonym on a case-by-case basis. Fandom tags that are currently synned to the Ancient religious fandoms have been checked as thoroughly as possible to ensure that they are not referring to modern folk tales, and where possible such relatively modern folk tales are canonized as their own fandoms.

(From time to time, ao3org posts announcements of recent or upcoming wrangling changes on behalf of the Tag Wrangling Committee.)

[slayingfiction]

Words to use instead of ‘said’

**Using the word ‘said’ is absolutely not a bad choice, and in fact, you will want to use it for at least 40% of all your dialogue tags. Using other words can be great, especially for description and showing emotion, but used in excess can take away or distract from the story.

Neutral: acknowledged, added, affirmed, agreed, announced, answered, appealed, articulated, attested, began, bemused, boasted, called, chimed in, claimed, clarified, commented, conceded, confided, confirmed, contended, continued, corrected, decided, declared, deflected, demurred, disclosed, disputed, emphasized, explained, expressed, finished, gloated, greeted, hinted, imitated, imparted, implied, informed, interjected, insinuated, insisted, instructed, lectured, maintained, mouthed, mused, noted, observed, offered, put forth, reassured, recited, remarked, repeated, requested, replied, revealed, shared, spoke up, stated, suggested, uttered, voiced, volunteered, vowed, went on

Persuasive: advised, appealed, asserted, assured, begged, cajoled, claimed, convinced, directed, encouraged, implored, insisted, pleaded, pressed, probed, prodded, prompted, stressed, suggested, urged

Continuously: babbled, chattered, jabbered, rambled, rattled on

Quietly: admitted, breathed, confessed, croaked, crooned, grumbled, hissed, mumbled, murmured, muttered, purred, sighed, whispered

Loudly: bellowed, blurted, boomed, cried, hollered, howled, piped, roared, screamed, screeched, shouted, shrieked, squawked, thundered, wailed, yelled, yelped

Happily/Lovingly: admired, beamed, cackled, cheered, chirped, comforted, consoled, cooed, empathized, flirted, gushed, hummed, invited, praised, proclaimed, professed, reassured, soothed, squealed, whooped

Humour: bantered, chuckled, giggled, guffawed, jested, joked, joshed

Sad: bawled, begged, bemoaned, blubbered, grieved, lamented, mewled, mourned, pleaded, sniffled, sniveled, sobbed, wailed, wept, whimpered

Frustrated: argued, bickered, chastised, complained, exasperated, groaned, huffed, protested, whinged

Anger: accused, bristled, criticized, condemned, cursed, demanded, denounced, erupted, fumed, growled, lied, nagged, ordered, provoked, raged, ranted remonstrated, retorted, scoffed, scolded, scowled, seethed, shot, snapped, snarled, sneered, spat, stormed, swore, taunted, threatened, warned

Disgust: cringed, gagged, groused, griped, grunted, mocked, rasped, sniffed, snorted

Fear: cautioned, faltered, fretted, gasped, quaked, quavered, shuddered, stammered, stuttered, trembled, warned, whimpered, whined

Excited: beamed, cheered, cried out, crowed, exclaimed, gushed, rejoiced, sang, trumpeted

Surprised: blurted, exclaimed, gasped, marveled, sputtered, yelped

Provoked: bragged, dared, gibed, goaded, insulted, jeered, lied, mimicked, nagged, pestered, provoked, quipped, ribbed, ridiculed, sassed, teased

Uncertainty/Questionned: asked, challenged, coaxed, concluded, countered, debated, doubted, entreated, guessed, hesitated, hinted, implored, inquired, objected, persuaded, petitioned, pleaded, pondered, pressed, probed, proposed, queried, questioned, quizzed, reasoned, reiterated, reported, requested, speculated, supposed, surmised, testified, theorized, verified, wondered

This is by no means a full list, but should be more than enough to get you started!

Any more words you favor? Add them in the comments!

Happy Writing :)

[fairuzfan]

Id:

I wouldn't have won The International Women's Media Foundation (@IWMF)'s Courage in Journalism Award 2024 this June if I hadn’t been on the ground reporting events and exposing Israeli flagrant violations under perilous conditions, all while being systematically attacked by supporters of the perpetrators.

Winning a prize for “courage” means being subjected to attacks and choosing to continue your work regardless. However, I regret to say that the very organization that recognized these perilous conditions and awarded me the prize succumbed to pressure and chose to act contrary to courage; they rescinded the award in a decision that would put my life at risk.

In fact, I’m very glad that both my winning the award and its withdrawal have starkly demonstrated the systematic physical and moral attacks Palestinian journalists endure throughout their careers. These threats and character assassinations aim only to silence us and perpetuate the longstanding bias in global media. I have never worked to receive awards, nor have I ever submitted an application to nominate myself. I didn't choose journalism as a profession; I became a journalist after recognizing the extent to which the world overlooks Palestinians’ suffering and opts to conform to Israeli pressures.

Every year, Palestinian journalists are recognized with international awards for their brave reporting under the Israeli occupation and relentless attacks. These accolades honor their courage and dedication to uncovering the truth.

However, each announcement of an award to a Palestinian journalist is systematically followed by extensive smearing campaigns and intense pressure on the awarding organizations from supporters of the Israeli occupation and the Zionist lobby. While some organizations uphold their principles and maintain their decision to honor these journalists, others, regrettably, cave to the pressure and withdraw the prizes.

Instead of recognizing the threats they face and contributing to their protection, a decision to withdraw a prize from a Palestinian journalist in Gaza—where over 150 journalists have been killed by the ongoing Israeli genocide—can further endanger them and increase their risk of targeting.

I have no regrets about any posts or reasons that led to the rescinding of this award, and I will not stop expressing my views. Before being a journalist, I am a Palestinian living under military occupation, a strangling blockade, and genocide in Gaza.

My grandparents were expelled from Jerusalem upon the creation of the state of Israel, and I have been expelled from my home in Gaza during this genocide.

If winning a prize entails enduring and witnessing war crimes while remaining silent, I am not honored to receive any prizes. I will always be objective in my reporting, but I can never be neutral; I will always point out the perpetrators and stand in solidarity with the victims. This is what journalism is truly about.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Do you know that I love you? (do you know that you shouldn't?)

love is not designed for the cynical - series masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.7k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

warnings: jason's injured and there's blood but it's not too graphic, except that it describes giving stitches, sometimes people get mean when they get scared, biting like a misbehaved dog etc etc

a/n: there is a fatigue seeping into me that I fear is building a home inside my chest :) how are we all doing this evening do we like this are we excited for the dc event announcement on sunday

You hear another muffled curse from the other side of the bathroom door, Jason's voice tight with pain. The sound makes you press your lips together firmly, your jaw tense as you stand in the hallway of your shared home, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed.

"Jason -" you start again, but his voice cuts you off.

"No."

"Let me help you," you continue, an exasperated sort of fatigue in your voice. Somewhere in your kitchen, you know that the clock is ticking well past 4am. 

"You don't need to be here for this," Jason says stubbornly and you scowl at the closed door. You wonder, for just a moment, if he locked it - or if he simply trusts you enough to know that you won't go where you're not wanted.

"You can't put stitches in our back on your own," you say stubbornly, and a sigh is heard through the barrier between you as you thump your head back against the wall to stare at the dark ceiling. But then the door swings open slowly and Jason's face appears, haloed by the light pouring out of the bathroom.

"Help me, then," he says tightly, and you draw yourself up to a full stand, moving past him and into the small space. Jason sits on the edge of the bathtub and faces the wall while you rummage around the first aid kit, rolling his shoulders and wincing at the rushed, messy bandaging covering the slash across his back.

You don't say anything, of course - there's no need for an I told you so in a space like this, but you do click your tongue disapprovingly when you crouch behind him to pull back the bloody gauze.

"You don't need to be so stubborn about this, you know," you say softly as you begin to clean the damaged skin. There's no attack in your voice, no righteous demand that he become something that he's not.

It's just love… and the patience that comes with it. 

Jason sighs at your words, though, like he's being tried in court and found guilty. He shifts, his fists clenching as he hangs his head and stares down at the white porcelain of the bathtub and the bloody bandages that you've thrown in next to his feet, the red staining everything that it touches.

"I don't want you to have to see me like this," he says eventually, a tired sort of resignation in his voice. You huff out a breath.

"I've seen you dead, Jason," you point out flatly. "I'm not sure why you think this would be worse."

"Don't joke about it," he snaps before he can stop himself, something mean and angry flashing through him before regret begins to wash over him.

"Why do you think I'd joke about loving you?" You ask it quietly, pressing a needle to his skin as you begin to put him back together, as you smooth over wounds and blur out the scars that he's sure would bloom there without your help.

Jason sits quietly, lets his head hang as you work and listens to the slow rhythm of your breathing as you move your hands across his back, as you love him in the only way you know how.

"Sometimes, I just don't know what to do with you," he admits, his voice low and wavering. That makes you pause, makes your hands freeze for just a moment before they continue, slower now than before. 

"I suppose that was going to happen eventually," you offer softly. "Neither of us are really who we used to be… I'm not sure we can, I don't know, fall into step with each other the way we did before…"

"Before I died?" Jason supplies. You tap him on the back of the head with your knuckle in a reprimanding sort of way - just like you used to do when you were kids.

"Before we grew up, I was going to say," you explain dryly, and Jason laughs a bit, a huffed-out breath that he can't really find in himself to stop. You roll your eyes rather fondly and a quiet settles over the two of you, nothing but your breath mixing with his and the faint rustling of your working hands filling the space as he settles. 

But then you finish Jason's stitches, tying off the thread and taping down a new, clean bandage before tapping him on the shoulder lightly to let him know that you're finished. He swings one leg up and over so that he's straddling the edge of the tub and watches as you stand, wincing and letting your knees pop.

"You should've said something," he chastises gently as you lift one of your own legs into the tub, straddling the porcelain to sit face-to-face with him and let your knees bump against his.

"I don't mind," you say easily, and a frown tugs at Jason's lips.

"See, that's what I mean," he murmurs, smoothing his hands across your thighs to rub gentle circles over your knees where he's sure the tiled floor had been digging into your skin. "Sometimes I just don't know what to do with you."

"What do you mean?" You ask softly. Jason looks away, staring at the blood-soaked bandages sitting in the tub. You follow his gaze, of course, just enough to see what he's staring at and then look back at him with your head cocked curiously to the side.

"Sometimes you act like you don't care at all," he says flatly, his hands tightening their grip on your knees.

"When I act like I care, you act like it's killing you," you point out gently, watching as Jason's lips turn down into a scowl as he watches his own blood drip towards the drain.

"Sometimes I think it is," he says dully. You reach to brush a few of his curls back, his hair unruly and mussed from the night as sweat sticks to the strands.

"Then what do you want me to do, baby?" you ask quietly, letting your fingernails scratch over his scalp rhythmically as he sighs and closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

"I want you to let me see you," he replies honestly. "I want you to let me here there for you."

"Not sure you should be saying that," you respond easily. "Something about living in a glass house and all that."

"What do you mean?"

"You locked yourself in the bathroom to bleed out alone so that I wouldn't see it," you point out. There's no accusation in your voice, no cold, hard edge or betrayal to be heard. But Jason's shoulders tense all the same as he opens his eyes and takes your hand in his to press kisses across your knuckles. "You don't need to protect me from yourself," you continue gently. 

"Neither do you," he retorts, the same kindness and love coming back to you in waves.  

"I'm just…" you begin, letting your eyes flick around the bathroom as you feel yourself suddenly under scrutiny. "I'm trying to be there for you."

"That's my job," Jason says firmly. "You gotta let me be there for you." You sigh at that, something long-suffering and loving as you look back at him and lift a brow. 

"When are you going to learn that I love you?" You ask softly, and Jason looks at you like you've pointed a gun to his chest.

"When are you going to learn that you shouldn't?"

"I don't think you get to make that decision for me, Jay," you offer with a shrug. "I think I've earned the right to decide my own life." He sighs at that, looking at you like he loves you too much and doesn't know what to do with it, before he reaches for you.

"C'mere, baby," he says it quietly, a whisper pressed against you as he wraps his arms around your waist and hauls you into him, letting your thighs rest overtop of his as you settle into his lap. "You know I love you, too, right?" he asks softly, his lips pressing kisses over your cheeks.

"I know, Jay," you respond soothingly, tangling your hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Maybe we'd both… maybe we'd learn a thing or two from showing it more, hm?" Jason laughs at that, burying his face into your neck as he sighs and rocks the two of you back and forth gently.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" he offers, his voice muffled as his lips press against your skin. You tap your knuckles to his head in another chastising manner, but you also smile as you lean down to kiss the crown of his head. 

"I wouldn't mind that," you say quietly, and when Jason lifts his head to look at you, there's no hint of joking in your face. You smooth a hand over his cheek and he lilts his head to place a delicate kiss on your palm while you watch him, your eyes big and loving in a way that makes him feel a bit naked. 

"Yea?" his voice wavers as he asks, his hesitation festering inside him, but you just smile in that gentle, loving way of yours and smooth over the crease between his brows with your thumb.

"Yea," you say easily. "You're not hard to love, Jay. It just takes a bit of practice for us to learn how to give that love."

"And you'll stay with me long enough for me to learn?" 

"Long enough for us to learn," you correct gently, leaning into him to kiss him softly. "And hopefully a whole lot longer than that." He laughs against you at that, chasing your lips as his arms wrap around your waist a bit tighter.

"Well," he says as he pulls away just enough to let his lips brush against yours. "I'm sure as fuck not letting go." You laugh at that, something loud and honest and a bit more carefree than either of you are used to.

"Good," you say easily. "We'll do it together, then."

[aloevera-o]

Hi dearest tumblr writers here is some tips you have no choice in using now.

Please stop over using: said, say, yell, whispered, in your stories. Its atrocious,

Use these instead

Neutral 

Announced 

Commented

Divulged(Make known)

Explained

Called

Began

Told

Reported

Observed

Remarked(Say something as a comment;mention 2. Regard with attention;notice)

Noted

Continued

Conferred(Grant or bestow 2. Have discussion;exchange opinions)

Replying

Replied

Retorted(Say something in answer to a remark, usually in a sharp, angry, or witty manner)

Answered

Responded

Suggesting

Advised

Appealed

Asserted

Beckoned(Make a gesture with the hand, arm, or head to encourage someone to come near)

Urged

Promised

Inclined

Implored(Beg someone earnestly or desperately to do something)

Implied

Hinted

Persuaded

Touted(Attempt to sell, typically by pestering in an aggressive or bold way)

Proposed

Teasing or Flirting

Grinned

Quipped (Make a witty remark)

Teased

Taunted

Purred

Mocked

Mimicked

Provoked (Stimulate or give rise to in someone)

Joked

Lied

Imitated

Making a Sound

Breathed

Choked

Croaked

Drawled(Speak in a slow, lazy way with prolonged vowel sounds)

Echoed

Grunted

Keened (Wail in grief for a dead person)

Moaned

Mumbled

Murmured

Painted

Sang

Stifled

Sniveled(Cry and sniff in a feeble or fretful way)

Snorted

Whimpered

Whined

Uttered

Bawled

Howled

Whispered

Accusing

Accused

Articulated

Postulated(Suggest or assume the existence or fact truth or a basis for a reasoning, discussion, or belief)

Angry

Barked

Bellowed (Emit a deep, loud roar, typically in pain or anger)

Bossed

Carped (Complain or find fault continually about trivial matters)

Censured (Express severe disapproval)

Commended

Criticized

Demanded

Raged

Ordered

Reprimanded

Scoffed (Speak to someone or about something in a scornful derision or mocking way)

Scolded

Seethed (Bubble up as a result or being boiled)

Snapped

Screamed

Snarled

Told off

Thundered

Roared

Yelled

Chided (Scold or rebuke)

Leered (Look or gaze in an unpleasant, malicious, or lascivious way)

Condemned 

Rebuked (Express sharp disapproval or criticism of someone because of their behavior or actions)

Admonished (Warn or reprimand firmly)

Chastised (Rebuke or reprimand severely) 

Berated (Scold or criticize angrily)

Interrupting

Interjected

Interrupted

Chimed in

Comforting

Soothed

Comforted

Reassured

Consoled

Empathized

Asking a Question

Sought

Inquired

Doubted

Hypothesized

Guessed

Supposed

Suggested

Lilted (Speak, sing, or sound with a lilt)

Wondered

Probed(Physically explore or examine)

Beseeched(Ask someone urgently and fervently;implore)

Acceptance

Accepted

Acknowledged

Admitted

Affirmed

Agreed

Justified

Settled

Verified

Concurred

Condoned(accept and allow behavior usually thought as offensive)

Cocky or Snarky

Grinned

Taunted

Purred

Jabbered(Talk rapidly and excitedly with little sense)

Fear

Shrieked

Screamed

Swore

Quaked

Shivered

Trembled

Warned

Cautioned

Shuddered

Stammered

Fretted (Be constantly or visibly worried or anxious)

Hesitated

Stuttered

Quavered (Shake or tremble in speaking, typically through nervousness or emotion)

Happy

Babbled

Beamed

Blurted

Bursted

Cheered

Chortled (Laugh in a breathy, gleeful way;chuckle)

Chuckled

Crooned (Hum or sing in a soft, low voice, especially in a sentimental manner)

Crowed (Gloating;saying something in a triumphant manner)

Exclaimed

Giggled

Laughed

Rejoiced

Sad

Wailed

Cried

Sobbed

Yelped

Agonized (Undergo great mental anguish through worrying about something)

Blubbered (Sob noiselessly and uncontrollably)

Groaned

Mourned

Puled (Cry querulously or weakly)

Cried

Wept

Grieved 

Lamented (Mourn someone's death)

"She said with (a)(tone)" Is also a better option than just "she said". Or mix and match

Casual 

Chiding 

Courteous 

Curious 

Dry 

Flirtatious 

Level 

Rasping 

Small 

Panicky 

Soothing 

Condescending 

Perpetually tired/angry/excited 

Controlled grin

Fond look

Gloomy sigh

Note of relief

Sad smile

Sense of guilt

Sigh of irritation

Forced smirk

Wry smile

Crooked smile

Conviction

Determination

Rage

Firm persistence

Pleasure

Quiet empathy

Simple directness

Astonishment

Still emotion

Also here are some better adjectives for words you are banned from using too

“Good”

Exceptional

Adequate

Splendid

Superb

Admirable

Favorable

Marvelous

Satisfactory

Reputable

Worthy

Respectable

Pure

Uncorrupted

Efficient

Dependable

Merciful

Considerate

Mannerly

Proper

Decorous

Satisfactory

“Okay”

Satisfactory

Approved

Acceptable

Passable

Tolerable

Sustainable

“Nice”

Lovely

Beautiful

Favorable

Adequate

Kind

Friendly

Attractive

Polite

Helpful

Inviting

Nifty

Delightful

Pleasant

Admirable

Pretty

“Bad”

Atrocious

Awful

Cheap

Rough

Unacceptable

Cruddy

Defective

Incorrect

Inadequate

Raunchy

Inferior

Poor

“With anger”

Acidly

Angrily

Crossly

Irritably

Loudly

Roughly

Tartly

Tightly

Smugly

Sternly

Hotly

“With sadness”

Depressingly

Gently

Sadly

Softly

Desperately

“Not caring”

Absently

Complacently

Dryly

“With arrogance”

Sarcastically

Condescendingly

Smugly

“With neutrality”

Naturally

Calmly

Approvingly

“With care”

Understandingly

Empathetically

Carefully

Hesitantly

Cautiously

Quietly

Uncertainly

That is my peace, thank you

[knoepfl]

Shadows on Stage

Characters:

• Legoshi: A tall, reserved gray wolf who works as the lighting technician in the Drama Club. Protective and observant, he notices when (Y/N) is upset.

• (Y/N): A small, passionate feral fox who loves acting. Disappointed by receiving a minor role in the play, she struggles with self-doubt but tries to hide it.

Trigger Warnings:

• Disappointment

• Self-Doubt

Masterlist

Words: 1188

--- The theater room was buzzing with anticipation as members of the Drama Club rehearsed for the upcoming play. The air smelled of old costumes and the faint scent of candles used for the stage lighting. The heavy curtains swayed slightly in the breeze, and the spotlight cast long shadows on the stage. Legoshi, as usual, was by the lighting board, adjusting the lights and making sure the timing was perfect. His towering frame was hard to miss, his usual quiet energy evident in his focus.

Beside him, you—his small but spirited feral fox girlfriend—was on the stage, waiting for the casting list to be announced. You had joined the club to pursue acting, something you had a natural flair for, and today you were nervous, excited, and full of hope. You had always been smaller than most of the other animals in the club, but you didn’t let it stop you from chasing your dreams of being on stage.

The director called everyone’s attention, standing in front of the group with a clipboard in hand. “Alright, everyone, the roles for our play have been decided,” he said, his voice authoritative but not unkind.

Legoshi’s eyes flickered briefly toward you, noticing the way you stood a little straighter, hoping to hear your name called for a meaningful role. He couldn’t help but feel proud of how much effort you had put into your acting, how you had always been so passionate about it.

“Now, let’s see who gets what,” the director continued, and he began reading off the list of names, assigning roles.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened closely, hoping to hear your name tied to a larger, more significant character. But when the director finally got to your name, you felt a cold rush of disappointment.

“(Y/N), you’ll be playing the role of the servant. Your character is smaller, so you’ll fit in the background better. You’ll be a subtle presence, helping to set the tone for the story as it unfolds.”

You froze, your tail flicking behind you in quiet agitation. A servant? A background role? You had worked so hard, practicing your lines and perfecting your delivery, only to end up with something you felt was beneath you. You kept your face neutral, but your heart sank. You were so much more than this.

The rehearsal continued, and you moved through the motions mechanically, the joy you had felt before vanishing into thin air. You tried not to show how upset you were, but deep down, it was hard to ignore the sting of disappointment. As you rehearsed your part, you could barely focus, your thoughts swirling with frustration.

Legoshi, busy with adjusting the lighting, noticed you right away. Even though he was focused on his job, his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to you. He saw the way your movements were slower than usual, the way your tail drooped slightly, the way your posture was more defeated than he’d ever seen it.

He knew you. He knew when something was wrong.

After a few more moments, he could no longer concentrate on the lights. He needed to check on you. His large frame made his movements slow, but he didn’t hesitate. He walked over to you as you stood by yourself, still practicing your lines, your eyes focused on the floor. The others were chatting excitedly, but you remained silent, lost in your thoughts.

“(Y/N),” Legoshi’s deep voice broke the quiet. He was standing right in front of you now, looking down at you with gentle concern. He had always been able to read your emotions, even when you tried to hide them.

You looked up at him, giving him a forced smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you said, trying to brush off the feeling that had taken root deep in your chest. But Legoshi could tell.

“No, you’re not.” His voice was soft but insistent. “I can tell something’s wrong. You’re acting different. Are you upset about the role?”

You hesitated, not wanting to admit it, but then you nodded. “I don’t understand. I worked so hard for this, and I thought I could do more than just be in the background. I thought maybe I could finally show them what I can do, but… instead, I’m just a servant, out of the spotlight.”

Legoshi’s heart twisted at the way your tail drooped and your shoulders slumped. He could tell you were hurt, even if you tried to mask it. It stung him to see you like this, especially since he knew how much acting meant to you.

He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but he couldn’t stand seeing you so defeated. Without thinking, he moved closer, his body towering over yours, and then, gently, he knelt down so that you were at eye level. It wasn’t easy for him to kneel down—his height made it awkward—but he did it because he wanted to be closer to you, to offer you comfort in a way that felt right.

His deep brown eyes looked into yours, soft and understanding. “(Y/N), you’re not just a servant. You’re so much more than that. I know you’ve got so much talent, and I believe in you. You’re the most amazing actress I’ve ever seen. You’ll shine, even if it’s in the background. I promise you.”

You swallowed, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill. The warmth in Legoshi’s gaze and his words touched something deep inside you, something you had been trying to ignore. He saw you, even when the world didn’t.

“You really think so?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I know so.” He smiled softly, his ears flicking slightly in his own form of reassurance. “You’re not invisible to me. And you’ll never be invisible to me, no matter what role they give you. And if anyone says you’re not good enough, I’ll be right here, reminding you of who you are.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. His words were more than just reassurance; they were a lifeline, something you needed more than you realized. The weight in your chest started to lift, and a small, genuine smile appeared on your lips.

“Thanks, Legoshi,” you said, your voice steadying as you met his gaze. “I needed to hear that.”

Legoshi, still kneeling before you, gently reached out and took your hand in his. His large, warm hand engulfed yours, offering comfort without saying a word. For a moment, everything felt calm, and the weight of disappointment no longer felt so heavy.

“You’re going to be amazing, (Y/N),” he said, standing up slowly, his hands still holding yours. “And no matter what, I’ll always be here for you. You’re not just a servant. You’re the star of your own story, and I’m going to watch you shine.”

And with that, you knew, no matter what role you were given, you would always have someone by your side who believed in you, who saw you for everything you were capable of, and that made all the difference.

---

[ghouljams]

Hear me out... SCP!141 with SCP288 (the marriage rings)

:>

GOD. YEAH.

Note from O5 regarding SCP-288 tests:

In an effort to make the members of SCP-141 more docile each male will be subject to no more than an hour to observe the effects of SCP-288 on their personality. It is hoped that SCP-288's memetic effect might neutralize their more dangerous impulses. I understand that this has raised some ethical questions with our more psychologically attuned staff. To which I say: proceed with the tests.

Testing Log, SCP-288:

Subject: SCP-141-A Research Note: Seems only right to start with the ring leader. Results: SCP-141-A is exposed to SCP-141 and brought into standard human containment unit(HCU) which has been outfitted to resemble a small apartment with simple luxuries. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ offers him the ring box, he chuckles but takes it. "Sweetheart, ya shouldn't 'ave." He opens the box and inspects the rings. "matching set, cute." "If you would wear the-" Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ stops, frowns. "The men's ring?" SCP-141-A supplies. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ nods, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple as SCP-141-A removes the men's ring and slips it onto his finger. SCP-141-A spends the next several minutes observing Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ silently. He tips his head then tugs a box of cigarettes from his pocket and pulls one free with his teeth. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ takes a seat in the armchair and SCP-141-A pulls her back to standing with a hand under her elbow. "Ah, ah sweetheart, the couch." He sets her on the provided couch and searches his pockets for a lighter. "Darling-" He tips his head again, taking the cigarette from between his lips and holding it out to her. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ takes a lighter from her pocket and lights the cigarette for him. "Those things give me a headache." Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ sighs. "Man upstairs won't shell for cigars." SCP-141-A takes a seat next to Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛, resting his hand on her knee. The two sit in silence as Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ rubs her forehead with her fingers. SCP-141-A's hand creeps up her thigh in the quiet. "You know-" SCP-141-A exhales smoke, Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ winces, her hand drops to his on her thigh. "You're hurting me." "-Not right for you to watch a man and his wife." [DATA CORRUPTED]

Testing Notes:

Computers in observation room C ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ due to SCP-141-A's ⬛⬛⬛⬛, security personnel dispatched to HCU ⬛⬛ after video feed was interrupted and the cameras were ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛. Security was able to intervene before SCP-141-A could [Data redacted]. Recommending Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ for immediate psychological examination.

Note from Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛:

I'm fine. Testing may resume.

-

Testing Log, SCP-288:

Subject: SCP-141-B Research Note: I thought we weren't doing any more tests on this guy? Note: Testing will continue. Results: SCP-141-B is exposed to SCP-141 and brought into standard HCU outfited to resemble a small apartment with simple luxuries. The ring box is left on the table with instructions. SCP-141-B places men's ring on his finger, and D-class personnel is let into the room. Announcement made informing SCP-141-B of "wife." SCP-141-B displays characteristics in line with typical SCP-288-2 exposure including: deference to authority, "doting" behavior, and discussions of family planning. "Wife" displays rapid behavior changes in line with SCP-288-1 exposure, making comments on the state of the house and attempting to use the kitchen to bake for SCP-141-B. Test halted after SCP-141-B's attempt to [redacted]. D-class "Wife" displays advanced cognitohazardous effects, and actively resisted staff attempts to neutralize memetic damage. Suffered severe seizures for ⬛⬛ hours before passing. Time of death ⬛⬛:⬛⬛PM. SCP-141-B unresponsive to questions, still smiling ⬛⬛⬛ hours post testing.

-

Testing Log, SCP-288:

Subject: SCP-141-C Research Note: I'm not going in there after what he did. O5 Note: Yes you are. Results: Immediately after placing SCP-288-2 on his own finger SCP-141-C goes after Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛, after several minutes of struggle Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is wrestled to the ground and SCP-288-1 is forced onto her finger. SCP security staff prevented from intervening. SCP-141-C holds Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ against the ground with her arm twisted behind her back for several minutes, making her repeat bible verses regarding marriage and "wifely duties." He only lets her up upon completion and apologizes for punishing her. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ smiles and nods along to his apology. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is kept on her knees beside the couch. Testing stopped when SCP-141-C removed his [redacted] from his trousers and told her to "open." Security staff were able to safely remove SCP-288-1 from Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛'s finger despite interference from SCP-141-C.

Testing Notes:

Recommending Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ for immediate psychological examination, and mental health leave. Denied

-

Testing Log, SCP-288:

Subject: SCP-141-D Research notes: audio logs and transcriptions pending review, staff may be editorializing these. O5 Notes: Someone muzzle the psych please. Results: SCP-141-D is exposed to SCP-141 and led into standard HCU furnished like small apartment with simple luxuries. His former psychiatrist Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is handcuffed to the arm chair, she tugs at her restraints in a panic as SCP-141-D takes his seat on the couch. SCP-141-D reads instructions next to ring box and removes SCP-288-2, and places it on his finger. After a moment he steps around Dr.⬛⬛⬛⬛ in order to fiddle with the handcuffs. "Calm down sweet'eart, tryin' ta get ya outta the damn things." (Voice can be heard over receiver) Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛'s struggling only gets worse. SCP-141-D grabs her by the throat and holds her against the back of the armchair. Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ appears to be on the verge of hyperventilation. "Come on." SCP-141-D breaks the chain on one of her cuffs and Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ smacks him across the face. SCP-141-D's grip on her tightens and quickly loosens, anger there and gone only long enough for Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ to cower. "Not gonna hurt ya," [researches described voice as "gentling" pending review] "wouldn't hurt ya, calm down f'r me love." SCP-141-D spends the remaining hour, holding Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ in a bear hug as he sits in the armchair and she thrashes against his hold. SCP-141-D sustains multiple bite injuries and several headbutts, leading to what was assumed to be a broken nose. Upon examination no injuries were found.

SCP-141-D Note:

Don't you ever put that on me again. Like puttin' a fightin' dog in a jumper. I'll kill 'er next time.

Site ⬛⬛ Memo:

Dr. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ requesting immediate termination of employment. Denied

[nolongersigma]

Osamu Dazai SMUT.

MINORS DNI warnings! Dazai crunches up on your cooch, gender neutral pronouns used but afab reader implied, Relationship already established. This is a short fic!!

(headers from Pinterest)

You are absolutely drenched by the time you get back home. It’s been stormy all week and it’s making everything totally depressing, not the fact you work a 9-5 office job that looks like the stereotypes. Kicking off your boots as you enter Osamu’s apartment, you lazily toss your jacket who knows where and you slump onto the couch. When you close your eyes to relax for just a minute, you hear the god awful footsteps of your boyfriend! Can’t you just get a break yet??

His voice rings out like a fork against a plate. “Welcome back! Couldn’t even care to announce your arrival?” He says in fake somber as he drops to his knees by the couch where you sit and lays his head by your thigh. You groan in response and put your hands over your eyes to block out the light. “I thought you wouldn’t be home until seven…” You grumble out, to which he chuckles. “I convinced Kunikida-kun to let me leave early~” You roll your eyes, as if, he definitely used his wits to escape or something, typical. He’s going to get an earful tomorrow. Simply, you slump back, making your exhaustion as obvious as possible, knowing he can definitely tell. Of course, Osamu pretends, typical… He innocently smiles up at you, his hand on your knee and his body sat on the floor before you, as if he were praising a higher being. It’s a pleasing sight, you admit mentally. Maybe if you were a bit more energized, you’d give him some attention, but you just lay back and close your eyes, to which he pouts. Shuffling can be heard before your legs are spread. You jerk in surprise and look down at Osamu between your legs. It’s something your used to but it certainly caught you off guard when he does that so quickly! Relaxing again, you absentmindedly move your hips forward towards him and he eagerly digs his fingers into the plush of your thighs. Osamu is definitely going to ask you to crush him between your thighs after this, as usual. You lazily watch him nimbly undo your belt and pull it off, tossing it to the other side of the couch before unzipping your pants. He grins as he sees a bit of your panties and he gets to work on pulling off your nuisance of pants. Osamu finally gets them off and he admires your taste in underwear before running his finger tip along the seam of your panties. He snickers and looks up towards you. You roll your eyes, not in the mood for foreplay. Osamu reads the expression easily and quickly hooks his fingers into the panties and pulls them down to your thighs. He groans under his breath at the sight of your sex, excitement building as he notices you’re not even wet. Osamu loves when he has to really try for it..

Pulling down your panties the rest of the way, whispering some curses, he brings his face close to where the tip of his nose bumps against the flesh of your cunt. The musky scent has his eyes rolling back and body twitching like a virgin. Looking back up at you one more time, admiring your invisible grin before leaning in and licking a fat stripe against your slit, top to bottom. He moans, loud, louder than you. As his tongue reaches your clit, he sucks down on it, teeth grazing against it, making you twitch immediately. His nails dig into your inner thighs as he eats like a starved dog. Teeth, tongue, lips, it all has you arching and moaning like you never have. Your hands fly to grip his hair and gain at least a little control, fingers tangling into the brown locks as he continues slurping up on your sensitive cunt. Whining, your legs move to his shoulders and he takes it as just more invitation to go further. His teeth lightly bite down on your clit, making you yelp in surprise. You feel him smile against your pussy, so you hit the top of his head, to which it turns into a pout. He licks gently over where he bit before going back to using his whole tongue to lick everywhere else. The sensation of his tongue flattening then him sucking right after is too much. You squeal and yell whatever will come out of your mouth as you grip anything for dear life. Your back arches and you groan in a high pitched way, swearing you could see the light. No, you really just squirted all over his face. When you come back down from your high, you glance down at Osamu, blinking away the tears. You finally see the mess you made on him and the surprised expression on his face, (which is a first for you.) which makes you almost laugh. He slowly smiles wildly. “I have never seen you do that before, that was so sexy.” He giggles like a little kid with a crush. “Hey! I wanna see you do that again. Let’s do it again.” …How fun.

[xxsycamore]

🔞IKEMEN BREEDING SEASON🔞 - XXSYCAMORE'S 2000 FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION EVENT

On October 28th, 2024, this blog hit 2K followers! Once again, thank you, everyone, for the support, and for sticking around in my writing adventures. I hope you can continue enjoying my work! Now, our previous milestone celebrations were all about fluffy short stories, so I figured it's high time we bring some smut into the mix. Even though spring would have been perfect for the Ikemen Breeding Season, I decided, why wait when we can have it now. Besides, that time is reserved for part 2 of our Steal My Heart!! (1500 followers) event! If you have placed a request for it and haven't received a ficlet yet, don't worry, I haven't deleted anything! :)

➺ PROMPTS

How do you want the suitor to breed you (or the MC)? :

In the heat of the moment

As proof that you belong to them

To produce an heir

With a chance for twins

While imagining you being pregnant

Making sure that it takes

Making the moment special

When they'd already gotten you pregnant before

With you taking the lead

While you're in heat (Omegaverse)

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 2 separate request openings - Since in the past there have been times when everything has been grabbed in the first 10 minutes from the announcement, I decided it would only be fair for the people in different time zones if I divide it into two batches at different times of the day.

FIRST REQUEST OPENING WILL HAPPEN ON OCTOBER 30TH, 12 PM UTC (8 AM EDT) (or click here to see it converted to your time zone)

SECOND REQUEST OPENING WILL HAPPEN ON OCTOBER 31TH, 12 AM UTC (8 PM EDT on the 30th) (or click here to see it converted to your time zone)

Both request openings will be closed after I get a total of 15 requests each! I will make separate posts to announce when those start and close.

➺ RULES:

Understand that these are going to be short NSFW stories, around 500 words each.

Anonymous asks are allowed, but please don't abuse my kindness and don't request if you're a minor!

Pick a character from the list below and a prompt from the prompt list. Threesomes are allowed, so long as no one is related, lol.

Be sure to let me know if you want MC x Suitor(s) or Reader x Suitor(s). If you don't specify, I'll write it as I see fit!

Specify your gender preferences if you have any! If you selected "Reader", I'll by default write them with afab traits. This goes especially for the prompt "Imagining you pregnant" where you could encounter terms including but not limited to: breasts, lactation, love handles, vagina, ovulation, womb, ovaries, pregnant bellies, you get the picture. To bypass all of this, you can ask for a Gender Neutral Reader, or you can be more specific and tell me your preferences in detail.

Mpreg is welcome, sure, why not. This goes both for Male Readers and for Getting your suitor pregnant, like in the case where you picked the Omegaverse prompt and he's an Omega. Go wild.

OCs are NOT allowed, due to how short these stories are going to be versus the research required in order to do justice to your OC. Sorry!

Don't send multiple requests! One per person. Again, I'm put my trust in you about not abusing the anon option.

In the event where I've already received the same prompt with the same character, I'll only write it once!

Don't hesitate to give me details! :) I want to create a work specially crafted for you. If you have a whole scenario in mind, I'd love to hear it, even if I have to squeeze it in the word limit. Where are they doing it, what is the reader wearing, what petname the suitor uses - these are just a few examples! Additionally, since I haven't read all the routes of the characters listed here, if you feel it's needed, you can provide some in-game information about the character if it has a relation to topic. Ex: "I think he'll make a great family man because he canonly loves taking care of the younger ones."

Requests sent outside of the specified time periods won't be accepted. I try to immediately answer these so you'll know, but I might also straight-up delete anything that doesn't follow the rules.

➺ AVAILABLE CHARACTERS:

Ikemen Villains: Wiliam; Harrison; Liam; Elbert; Alfons; Roger; Jude; Ellis; Victor; Darius; Nica; Ring

Ikemen Prince: Leon; Chevalier; Yves; Nokto; Licht; Jin; Luke; Clavis; Rio; Sariel; Gilbert; Keith; Silvio, Cyran/Cyril, Matthias, Kagari

Ikemen Vampire: Napoleon(pls); Leonardo; Mozart; Arthur; Vincent; Theo; Isaac; Jean; Dazai; Sebastian; Comte; Shakespeare; Vlad; Faust; Charles; Drake; Galileo

Ikemen Revolution: Lancelot; Ray; Jonah; Fenrir; Edgar; Sirius; Kyle; Luka; Zero; Seth; Blanc; Oliver; Loki; Harr; Mousse; Dalim; Dean; Levie

Ikemen Sengoku: Nobunaga; Masamune; Shingen; Hideyoshi; Mitsuhide; Kanetsugu; Ieyasu; Mitsunari; Yukimura; Sasuke; Kenshin; Kenyo; Ranmaru; Motonari; Keiji; Kicho; Yoshimoto

Midnight Cinderella: Alyn; Giles; Louis; Leo; Byron; Nico; Albert; Robert; Rayvis; Sid

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆

Please understand that I can't guarantee that I'm going to write all of these! I have a lot of issues IRL that I need to take care of, which leads me to either not having a lot of free time or not having the needed energy and inspiration to write. Either way, I hope you can have fun with this event! I can't wait to see what you send me. Have a great day, and I'll see you in my askbox soon! <3

[boop-le-snoot]

kinktober #3

Strangelove

kinktober day three | restraints, bratting (if you squint, he's very polite) | cw: 18+, sub!Gil, service dom!gender neutral! Reader, inappropriate use of Elvish rope, mouthy princess gil, oral sex (m receiving), safe sane and consensual | word count 4,1k | author's note under the cut | click here for the full kinktober list |

“Now,” a majestic voice rolls over the room like thunder.

You cannot see its owner for that he is hidden behind several of his advisors but your mind paints a picture familiar and amusing.

Face scrunched in petulance, crown slightly askew, the High King bends down to bring his face closer to the dignitary. “I have spoken all there is to say on the matter. Do not make me repeat myself!” He straightens promptly, dark eyes flashing in flickering golden light, and addresses the expectant crowd. “I have exceeded my quota of patience for today! Take your leave! Ego!” The command comes off as harsh even for the King when he is in one of his moods, so he hurries to soften the blow. “We shall continue on the morrow.”

Golden robes billowing out behind him, High King Erenion Gil-Galad takes his leave without sparing a second glance towards the disappointed Elves. Some nod in understanding, knowing just how heavy-handed some of the advisories can get when vying for the King's favour. Some frown and rush off towards the main exit, muttering displeasures to themselves. You linger, letting the crowd disperse into smaller groups, and nimbly make your way towards the side exit, unnoticed amongst various discussions and arguments.

The narrow hallway greets you with a silence and a chill, this year's autumn exceptionally windswept and grey. Erenion's abandoned outer robe stands out like a sore thumb: carelessly thrown over a toreutic statue, it glistens with what little sunshine pierces through low-hanging clouds pregnant with rain and fog. You pick up the garment and fold it at the waist before throwing it over your shoulder, adjusting the pile of notes to your chest. Well-worn soles of your shoes make no noise as you near the King's private study.

The door stands open, no more than a hand's width, and most of your field of view inside the room is occupied by the broad back of your King. It is tense, hard at the nape and taut at the seams of his shirt. Often, you have privately wondered of the possible incident that may finally cause him to burst out of his clothing - once or twice, you were sure Lady Galadriel had come very close to causing Erenion to simply spontaneously combust.

Such he stood with his back turned to you. Pent up, hard-boiled and simply done. A mostly empty carafe of wine at his left hand, a drained glass in the right.

“More wine,” he said the moment you announced yourself with a light step and a creak of the door.

“Yes, my Lord,” you replied evenly, racking your brain for the probable location of the nearest servant. Erenion Gil-Galad was a fair king and a kind ellon but that did not stop all servants from clearing his path when he got into a particularly sullen mood. A sulking King was no good company to anybody.

You trotted over to the nearest chair to place his outer robes onto. He turned swiftly. You needn't raise your eyes to see him struggle to swallow whatever bitter remark had been curling on his tongue; even so hotly angered, stupid he was not. Erenion knew better than to bestow unjust abuse towards his most dutiful and loyal attendant.

He spoke your name and you nodded in acknowledgement before smoothing out his robes and placing your stack of parchment on a nearby table. Not engaging in chit-chat but simply offering a quiet, steady, ataractic presence to the disgruntled King. Soft swishing of the parchment as you rearranged it invited a soothing ubiquity into the cool room. You felt, not saw, your King's shoulders drop. The clink of an empty glass being put down followed suit.

“These noxious vultures!..” Came the predicted grumble. Erenion's footsteps, unusually heavy and resounding for an Elf, traced a path from that corner of the room towards his desk. “Arguing for the sake of it...” Some of the more passionate choice words got lost in the pull of drawers being opened and paper bags' crinkling.

You hid a secretive smile. The Royal Snack Shelf, having been restocked by yours truly, was doing splendid at its job. A whimsical, silly detail even, but nevertheless quintessential at easing the burden of your King's day-to-day routine. A mentor in your past had given you valuable lessons on sweetening the bitterness of all that is tedious and mundane and you had taken them all to heart.

Periodically interrupted by crunching, the King's mouth ejected a day's worth of vitriol into the world, onto you and onto nobody at large, as he paced the long, spacious office like a caged lion. With every sentence he seemed to deflate a little and you counted every tiny victory as you mindlessly sorted and re-aligned your pages. The ranting was a canonical event and you did not interfere.

“... Grach! What secret information do your scrolls contain that is more important than listening to your King?!” Erenion's exclamation was not loud, but his deep and rich voice made it sound petulant and harsh.

Ah. One of those nights.

You straightened your back, taking your sweet time to readjust the muscles of your spine that were beginning to cramp from your hunched position and rapidly evened the stack that had previously preoccupied all of your attention. The bottom of it connected with the table with a sharp, resound tap, and Erenion immediately froze in his tracks.

You turned around slowly, body coiled in perfect precision, a masterful image of picture-perfect regard. Wide-eyed, Erenion frowned, dark brows creasing over the bridge of his nose. Your voice was even when you spoke.

“I am your dutiful servant, my King.” Bowing at the neck and not at the back, you crossed your hands behind yourself, looking him directly in the eye. “It is my job to thoroughly inspect all that concerns you and see to your comforts, which includes your spiritual well-being. At the present moment, it is imperative I allow you to vent your frustration without risk of scrutiny and judgment.”

Erenion, ever the imperfect perfectionist, scoffed. A knee-jerk reaction you harboured no ill will towards, for that you knew it would serve to be so much more rewarding when he finally decided to yield. As the King's brow darkened further with peevishness, his body language spoke of unmistakable interest. A creature of greatness and great contrasts was your King, most exhilarating. Bittersweet, like sour cherry wine.

“You think you know me better than myself?”

You pretended to think about it. “In certain areas, yes.” Jerking your shoulder a little, you took small, short steps towards him, observing him for any changes. Although his face was now contorted in a kingly version of a pout, his chest remained open and shoulders lax.

Looking down on you, Erenion seemed almond amused. “And what is it that you think I presently require?”

“Temperance,” you crooned. The air between your bodies thickened. With your eyes, you traced the fluid lines of his arms covered by his form-fitting undershirt. The hills of his biceps tapered down to wide forearms and sturdy wrists; towards broad palms, adorned with multiple rings but calloused from practice of warcraft. Erenion Gil-Galad was a beautiful King, all smooth lines and luxuriance from the regal curl of his plush mouth down to his shaking fingertips. “You need a lesson in temperance, my King.”

“Is that so?” He inquired lowly. Amusement, intrigue and apprehension all mixed up in his voice, colouring it with hoarseness usually reserved for lovers of a capricious occasion. Erenion was not known for those, but then again, it was unbecoming of a Noldorin High King to voluntarily overturn control of his persona to an assistant, even if it was temporary.

But you were just so good at what you did. How could he not surrender? With a gentle touch and a sharp word, you beheld the King within your eye as if nothing else outside it existed at all. The usually reserved personal aide, you became anything he needed you to be behind closed doors, be it a punching bag filled with sharp nails that cut him right back at every snap or a firm palm, offering rich handfuls of well-earned praise.

There was no diplomatic school advanced enough to lecture anyone on how to handle a King, so you could say that it came naturally. And proof was in the (re)actions: the willingness of Him to acquiesce, the intensity with which you handled him and just how far you were willing to go.

Erenion Gil-Galad stepped back. Again, and then again, until he landed noisily in the nearest chair, his broad, tall body sagging into the comfort of soft upholstery. Like this, you were just about eye-level with each other, and you beheld him with genuine sympathy and utter devotion. He stared back, eyes wide, deep irises seamlessly blending into dark pupils.

A cursory sweep around the room while he was contemplating your expression revealed an unexpected treasure: a thick roll of elvish rope laid on a nearby chair, likely accidentally left behind by a commander rushing in to receive or confirm orders. You smiled and looked away, least your plans be ruined by Erenion's inherent reaction to do the opposite of what people wanted him to do.

Carefully, you raised your hands to rid him of the crown. It always had to go first - dutiful servant as you were, it was most cumbersome to be reminded of his higher status when doing something scandalous with the King's body. Not that the situation lacked appeal, as a concept, but the crown had a weight attached to it. You were set on freeing the King of his burdens, after all.

Erenion's eyelashes fluttered as you gently carded your fingers through long, thick chocolate hair. Tugging lightly at the roots and brushing over the shortened warrior's edges at his temples. Tracing his strong jawline to brush a teasing thumb over his lips just to withdraw before he licked it like a playful kitten. You caressed the sensitive leaf shape of his ear and were immediately rewarded with a pleased rumble coming from the depts of his chest. For now, Erenion was much content to sit back in his chair and hold the outside of his palm against your leg, but it would not last.

Not when your fingers made swift work of the laces on his shirt and freed him from it. As the fabric landed on a nearby ottoman, his large palms settled over your hips, possessively kneading the meat there.

“Impatient,” you chided with a gentle shake of your head, eliciting a displeased grumble from the King, followed up by his fingertips digging deeper into you, clinging to your bones. A tap on his nose caused his eyes to shoot open. Your smile only grew. “Impertinent.”

Opening his mouth, Erenion's eyes shot to his crown abandoned nearby and back at your face. He pursed his lips, and, in lieu of a response, leaned in to rub his cheek over your clothed chest. You stood still, letting him find his comfort, but did little else. Until the very moment Erenion withdrew, his famous kingly pout back on full display.

“Melmë.”

“Erenion.” You echoed, matching his tone. “Are we in a rush?”

“Yes!” He grumbled. Looked at the window, where the clouds had obscured stars and the moon, blanketing Lindon within an impenetrable darkness. Several candles illuminated the room and that was it: not a single torch was lit outside the window. Erenion sighed. “Well, no, alas...”

“We are not in a rush.” You placed your palms atop his own, squeezing them once: a wordless command to release you. He did so and you stroked his face, his eyes, which he closed. Placing a kiss on his forehead, you swiftly grabbed the rope and returned with it, unfurling the roll as Erenion grew visibly more restless from the lack of touch. He dared open his eyes and immediately gasped, aghast. “Temperance,” you reminded him.

“No!” He protested, but made no move to get up or otherwise interrupt your planned activity.

You were sure many would call you mad for enjoying this exact moment of your games: the feigned resistance. Erenion would gripe and groan and complain and inevitably ruin his trousers in the process and there was no sweeter reward for your troubles that could be. The more he objected, the higher he riled himself up. That final leap over the edge beckoned you both in the distance. Erenion fell apart beautifully and...

A sigh. “Yes,” you stressed, wrapping the rope around his chest and the back of the chair before weaving it swiftly and delicately over his forearms, effectively securing them to the armrests. The length of the rope allowed for a safe amount of movement and several pretty knots.

It should withstand a good deal of resistance; Erenion's awareness of his own size and strength and their comparison to yours put an upper limit on just how physical these games would get. Ever cognisant, Erenion would flat out refuse even the possibility of causing you pain with his body so certain workarounds had to implemented. And even then, you found yourself wistful, wishing nothing more than for your King to lose himself to simple, mindless pleasures.

When was Erenion Gil-Galad ever simple? Effectively prevented from seeking out touch, he sat poised and regal, chin pointed in defiance, as he watched you shed your outer robes and and miscellaneous clothing. His eyes roved over you hungrily, yearning, as you stood before him in nothing but your underthings. Veins of his hands thick with rushing blood, what little was south of his trousers anyway: obscured by his breeches, the outlined of his hard cock stood as tall and proud as him.

You sat astride it, reveling in the hiss that came from his lips as you pressed your weight atop it and stayed still. The line of his jaw was fascinating to explore: you enlisted your lips, your fingers to do so.

As you'd predicted, his patience was... Not there.

“Well?”

“Hm?” You rumbled at the root of his ear, hot breath ghosting over the lobe.

“What now?” Centuries at Court kept his voice steady; his body was the biggest traitor. Blood rushed, a siren's song to you, enticing to switch your attentions to the other side of his face. Tenderly and thoroughly, you lavished it with attention, attacking Erenion's erogenous zones with tempered precision. You were in no rush to reply. He could not wait to feel. “I am sat in my office, indisposed and restrained, for the sake of your amusement?” He spat.

“No,” you murmured. And immediately corrected yourself because lying to your king is wrong. “Well, yes. But you are restrained for your own sake, as well. Good things come to those who know how to wait.” You preached, finishing off with a quick bite at the ball of his shoulder. Your hands slid lower, palming his thick pectorals, flicking his nipples.

There wasn't much to do but feel and bestow sensation and Erenion knew that. And enjoyed it so, his length twitching against your leg as you alternated between hard and soft, fast and slow, biting and kissing. Periodically, you withdrew enough to observe the changes on his face: how it grew from annoyed to flat to quivering. He panted softly through parted lips, groaning upon coming in contact with your own sex.

The buck of his hips straightened you up atop his lap. “You are much too impatient, darling,” you whispered against his lips. “Rushing to start one thing before the last has even ended,” withdrawing from his cock, you kissed him gently, pulling away as soon as he leaned in to envelop your tongue with his hot mouth. A whine slipped out instead and you smiled, brushing your closed mouth over his, moist and spit-slick.

“Multitasking is a necessary skill!” He objected, the ‘for a King’ hanging heavy and unsaid.

In lieu of a response, you ran your hands through his crown-free hair and gathered it in a loose ponytail, arching his head back. He moaned, low and long, and you rewarded him with a kiss to his lips. He did not misbehave this time as you mouthed at each other, losing time and space where your lips connected. You heard the creaking of wood, felt the bulge of Erenion's muscles as his body released all of its pent up tension.

Slowly, you lowered yourself back down to sit over his cock. Swallowing his moan and a noise of your own, you felt sparks fly as a sloppy movement brushed over where you were most sensitive. It was a sobering action. There was very little time for pleasure while you were doing your job, or, rather, the pleasure came from granting your King such. Boldly, your tongue snuck into his mouth to coax out his own so you could suck on it with conviction.

Erenion moaned, back arching within confines of his restraints. A wet spot was steadily growing under you, the result of your combined desire. Your mouth slid off his, smearing spit over his cheek as you panted. To pretend to be unaffected would be pointless and foolish. A pair of dark eyes sparking with amusement met yours: he looked too smug for an Elf who was at the brink of coming undone.

Cheeks flushed and mouth wet, Erenion Gil-Galad gave you a little smirk.

You wished nothing more than to bite him. So you did. Teeth clashed as you initiated another kiss, taking full control of it this time. It was wet and messy, full of growling and fangs as you temporarily abandoned your gentleness. You fucked his mouth with yours until your tasted bloody meat, and only then you withdrew, observing the momentary change in his behaviour. He was surprised, conquered, staring at you with reverence.

Your game of tug of war continued. He pushed and you pulled: he arched his chest and you bit down on his nipple, pulling it taut and letting your teeth scrape the surrounding sensitive tissue until his gasps descended into whimpers and bitten-off, broken Quenya. You raked blunt nails over his sides as he shuddered with sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain. Very few knew their King was ticklish and even fewer had the skills to incorporate it into ardurous sensual torture. You could have given any experienced courtesan a run for their money with how you played the High King akin to an instrument.

Maglor's incredible and terrifying singing had nothing on the broken noises coming out of the hot wet mouth of your King. Erenion was no songbird, no, he was a lone wolf howling at the moon. You observed the results of your handiwork as he shook with desire. There was little else to do but marvel.

Erenion Gil-Galad was a vision. Arms and chest criss-crossed with angry red welts where the ropes had rubbed a webbed pattern into his skin, he sat flushed and panting. Mouth red, as if wine stained, and eyes lidded, moved in wordless pleas for release. The need was showcased at the apex of his thighs where he'd leaked right through his trousers. Brown fabric was stained nearly black all around his sizeable bulge.

It was when you found yourself kneeling before it that reality sharply hit you in the face. Here you were, a servant, kneeling at the feet of your King, and he could do little else than plead for your mercy. And there was nothing else you wished to see more than give it to him - to see his face fall slack and easy, to see his twitching fingers finally find rest. But it was not the point of this. One release just bought the two of you a little time until the next.

The only thing you truly had control over was the amount of time it passed between the two. Not when you gave it and not how you gave it, for all that Erenion had to do was dismiss your advances and you would go back to sorting his mail and compiling his daily schedule.

Distracted, you nuzzled into his crotch, and fiddled with his trousers. His erect cock greeted you with a throb; the King moaned and threw his head back, straining the ropes to a point you began to consider they would lose their magic at once and simply snap. No such thing happened even as you blew gently onto the heated head of his cock.

“Cruel!..” He mumbled in between curses in languages you did not even know. “I was patient!” He objected to your withdrawal from his cock with fervor.

You were simply adjusting yourself. Not that he saw it, nearly delirious with need.

“Patient on account of lacking other options,” you teased him mirthfully.

He chuckled, but that noise quickly turned into a moan as you stuck out your tongue to trace the thick, prominent vein curving along the underside of his cock. Taking care to avoid the sensitive head, you took some tablets to lavish the shaft with soft licks of tour tongue. The sweet-salty taste of him beckoned you, clear droplets sliding down his cock just so you could curl your tongue around the middle of it to catch as much of the nectar as you could.

You went downwards, popping each of his testicles into your mouth. A whine in a pitch very few had ever heard echoed in the room; the chair creaked, it's back legs lifting off the ground. You immediately withdrew, placing apologetic kisses all along his cock as you ascended towards the tip. Erenion had been patient indeed and was now firmly stood at the edge of total overstimulation.

Sensitive Elven bodies, used to hard wars and tender lovemaking, had a very fine line that separated pleasure and pain. It'd been a steep learning curve to learn how to pluck the strings of your King just right, but once you figured out how to get him in that sweet spot betwixt the two and never firmly on the side of either, your sessions became something beautiful.

You wrapped your lips around him - he shuddered - and hollowed out your cheeks, tonguing along the frenulum as you swallowed as much of your King as would fit in your mouth. What couldn't fit was taken up by your hand, working him with all your might, going in for the winning round with single-minded abandon.

Erenion bucked his hips wildly, adding to the cacophony of your coupling. Moans, sighs and wet squelching, the creak of the chair that surely was to be replaced come morning - it all faded into the background as you kept your eyes firmly on the face of your King. Contorted in sweet agony, he gasped for breath once, twice, before his brow turned lax and a torrent of bittersweet nectar flooded your mouth.

Kneeling in awe and reverence, you swallowed it all. Erenion's chest heaved, covered in a translucent sheen of cool sweat, and he remained moaning softly all throughout it, reacting only when his flaccid flesh slipped from your mouth. His mouth was open and eyes closed as you undid the knots, content to ignore your own discomfort until the moment to relieve it offered itself.

You rubbed his wrists, eyeing his face for any discomfort. There was none - Erenion remained as timelessly beautiful when disheveled as he was in his golden garb. The corners of his mouth turned up in a lazy, absent smile, he freed a wrist to pull you in. You mirrored his smile.

“Come,” he spoke, voice rough. Unsteadily, he stood up, and pulled you towards the hidden door leading to his chambers. “We are not finished yet.”

Pretending to be surprised, you chuffed softly at the lack of care he showed at his own state of undress. He truly cared not, for he was the King, and managing his reputation (and any missteps of his in that regard) was your responsibility as his personal attendant anyway.

Would he ever make it easy for you? No. But, perhaps, one day you might get him to beg...

Someone said slightly bratty sub gil x service dom reader? OK I said it. I am pretty sure this is gender neutral, but in case it isn't, point out gendered things/words to me. I didn't bother to proofread it because I got too horny while writing it. I don't like this as much as I wish I did but oh well.

a/n: the bigger sub/smaller dom is an actual issue if you get physical during your scenes. I've dommed men roughly the size of Ben (I'm 5'4 130?lbs) and there are scenes and things that we simply cannot do safely, unless the sub is at least somewhat restrained. Even further, taking into account that canonical gil-salad is 7+ft... Tie that elf down before you let him brat/overstim or you'll get flat out 💅yeeted💅 across all Lindon.

[erindrinkstea]

Fractured Foundations

Poly! Dark! 141 x GN! Reader

TW: Dark Themes, Spicy Themes, Possesive Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Angst, Violence, Blood and Death

Description, Part 1

Main Masterlist | CoD Masterlist

Note: First Chapter Rewrite!

The Task Force 141.

Everyone in the Military respected and looked up to the special task force.

They were perfectly disciplined soldiers working in perfect sync— extremely loyal with an unbreakable bond like no other.

Once, you used to look to them as well. You adored them and idolized them. That all changed the moment you had entered their circle— you had been faced with the cold hard truth. You were an outsider.

Your arrival to them disturbed their perfect balance. Unlike the rest of the team, Price did not choose you. He didn't want you and nor did the others.

You could not blame them, your first impression made a nasty mark on the team. It was one thing for the 141 to not like you but it was another for them to hate you.

Months before you joined the 141, you were a proud member of a different team. A team that happened to have been assigned accidentally to the same mission as the 141. In the confusion, mistaking Soap for the enemy— you took the shot. The shot that almost costed the Scot his life as it pierced straight through his jugular.

It was only after your Captain had knocked the rifle out of your hands did you realize what you gunned down wasn't the enemy but a fellow soldier. You were fortunate that your combat medic was able to patch him up or the 141 would have had your head.

They would have quite have your head. You thank whatever God is out there that your combat medic saved the scotsman's life and pleaded for yours to be spared.

The guilt of what happened clung to you like a shadow and stained your hands with red.

You thought you would never cross paths with the 141 again after the incident, ruining your impression with the task force. Years later, things changed after one mission gone wrong with your team.

Your Captain and fellow Lieutenant died. It wasn't a surprise that your team disbanded soon after, the rest taking it as a sign to finally retire.

You were the last remaining member of your team that still persisted to continue in your duty. You went to Laswell for reassignment and you were shocked once she announced you'd be going to the 141.

She spoke to you of how your potential can be properly utilized under the right team and she believes that the 141 would need an asset like you.

Need, not want.  She should have told you that. She should have warned you.

The Team did not see you as an asset, they saw you as a liability. A person that infiltrated their circle and is a walking reminder of what transpired years ago.

Captain John "Price". He's the team's steady leader, always maintaining a polite facade. You noticer that his signature handshakes and shoulder pats— a small yet important gesture of his trust— were absent when it came to you. He liked to keep his contact with you in the minimum. It hurt you seeing how he acts like touching you hurt him.

Sargeant John "Soap" Mactavish. He and his easy charm and chatty mouth. He was neutral around you, always quiet and keeping the conversation quick and straight to the point. You felt shame whenever he would trace the scar on his neck, never letting you forget what happened.

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. He was known for showing affection to his team in subtle ways, never afraid to show his loyalty through actions. They did say actions speak louder than words and when he often actively avoided you— it stings. He may be subtle with his love for the team but his dislike to you was clear as day. His posture often becoming stiff when you were both in the same room.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley. He wasn't just rude or cold like the others, he was terrifying. His tones always sharp, always scrutinizing your every move, and the weight of his glare made you feel like suffocating. Whatever respect he afforded his teammates, he withheld from you with deliberate intent. 

You had tried to make amends.

For two years without relenting— you took up the responsibility of the reports, organizing the armory, and cooking meals after missions knowing that Gaz would be too exhausted.

But nothing you did seem to matter.

Today was just another reminder.

"Apologies, Lieutenant." You held back tears, feeling like a kid under the heat of Ghost's scolding. The mission went a bit sideways after an enemy managed to take you hostage— almost using you for escaping if not for Soap's clean shot.

The bullet slightly grazed you cheek as it landed a finishing blow in the enemy's head. "This better not happen again, Lieutenant." Ghost stormed off without another word, leaving you feeling embarrassed and ashamed.

It was unfair. You knew that they hold great resentment against you but still— "This isn't fair." You mumble, close to tears.

Why did you have to apologize? Soap never did when he made a mistake— everyone laughed it off. You got taken off guard and it wasn't your fault yet they still blamed you.

The team was supposed to stick together and they left you behind, never bothered to check if you were still following. Probably never noticed until you got taken hostage.

They never even felt scared for your life— you saw how Ghost looked at you when the enemy held you in gunpoint. He was ready to drop you for the mission. He had decided then and there that your life was not worth it. You saw how ready he was, never faltering his hold on his gun.

You snap out of your thoughts.

"Hey, sweet girl." You blinked away tears before it could escape as the German Shepherd entered the room. She immediately circled your feet and tilted her head curiously, sensing that you were upset. "I'm okay." You assured, kneeling down to rub her head.

After a while, you retreated back to your room. You slumped onto your bed and looked at the picture frame by your test. A photo of you and your former team. You missed them.

You missed being in a team that actually accepted you. A team where you actually belonged.

You drowned in your thoughts for a couple minutes before mumbling, "I don't wanna do this anymore." You don't want to retire but you didn't want to stay in the 141 any longer. It was torture.

──────⊹⊱☕︎︎⊰⊹──────

You left your room, heading to the kitchen to get something to bite, food was always a welcome comfort. It was better than sulking.

You passed Gaz on the way but didn't bother with even acknowledging his presence. The Sargeant paused mid-step, glancing at you as you continued to pass him.

For once, he didn't become stiff but felt uncomfortable nonetheless. You looked... blank. A look that he had seen from tortured vitims that seem to have given up. It didn't well with him that you looked that way.

In the end, he didn't think much of it and brushed it off as exhaustion after the mission. But you were never the type to ignore a person even when tired and when you just passed him—

It unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

[sundrop-writes]

(Un)Intimidated

Derek Hale x POTSie!GN!Reader Blurb

Word Count: 600

Sundrop's Main Masterlist

Warnings: the reader is gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; mentions of the reader having a 'girly' room (elements of pink and having stuffed animals); the reader has POTS - it is the main 'plot' of the fic (Derek can hear the reader's heartbeat). This is mostly just very self indulgent fluff.

A/N: So - again, I am on hiatus. But self indulgent fic ideas are getting to me. If you follow my main blog then you saw this one coming. Originally, my idea was to write something about Derek listening to the reader's heartbeat and catching them before they faint, but this fic is what happened when I started typing. Maybe I will write the other idea sometime, idk. Also, shoutout to the fact that I was writing this while having chest pains due to POTS. Wild

...

You had been assigned to ‘babysit’ Derek. 

What a glamorous role: sitting in your bedroom with a man on the run from the law (only because Scott had publicly (wrongfully) accused him of murder). 

When you first met Derek Hale, you had been intimidated by him. It was impossible not to be. He was more than six feet tall and impossibly broad - a giant wall of muscle that could have ripped you apart in seconds if he wanted to. But soon, you came to realize that he was… softer than other people gave him credit for. He had lost his entire family, and he was alone in the world. Of course he protected himself from that loneliness with bitterness and anger. But you saw glimpses of something else beneath. 

Especially now, when he was sitting in your bedroom on your pink beanbag chair, among a pile of stuffed animals, reading a YA romance novel that you had given him to entertain himself - he was almost… cute. 

He let out a gentle huff, seemingly frustrated, and you wondered if he had gotten caught up in the plot of the book - which would have been entirely amusing. 

“You okay?” You asked, putting down the pen you had been using to doodle with in your journal, giving him your full attention. “I can get us a snack or something if-” 

“Look, I’m sorry.” He mumbled out, so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words. 

“What?” You gaped, wondering if you had misheard him. 

“I said: I’m sorry.” He repeated himself, slowly and a bit louder. 

Unfortunately this confused you even further. 

“What for?” You asked, moving to the edge of your bed and putting your feet on the floor, directing even more of your attention toward him. 

“I know Scott and Stiles are making you stay with me, but you don’t have to stay here if you’re going to be… scared.” He explained slowly, quietly, choosing his words carefully. “I know I’m not exactly the friendliest person-” 

“‘Scared’?” You repeated his own words back to him, unsure of what he meant. “Why do you think I’m scared?” 

“Your heart has been racing for the past hour - ever since I arrived.” He explained. “I know you must be afraid of me-” 

You let out a gentle laugh, shaking your head. 

It was Derek’s turn to be confused now. 

“I - I forgot that werewolves can do that.” You told him, putting a hand to your chest and feeling your own rapid heartbeat. “Scott told me, but…” You trailed off, and then you switched to a different line of thought completely. 

“I’m not scared of you.” You announced, entirely firm. 

With your heart thumping at the exact same rapid pace, Derek couldn’t tell if this was a lie or not. 

“But-” He tried to argue, and you cut him off. 

“I have a medical condition.” You explained. 

He looked at you with curiosity, and you continued. 

“It’s called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. It means that my entire nervous system is whack - and my heart speeds up or slows down when it’s not supposed to. Because the part of my brain that controls my heart rate is… broken. It also causes me to faint. Way too often.” 

Derek hated to hear you speak of yourself as ‘broken’, because he saw you as such a kind, perfect person. But he chose not to say anything about it. 

A hint of sadness, pity, drifted across Derek’s features - anybody else would have missed it, but since meeting him, you had focused on seeing beneath the surface of his bruteness, and you had started picking up on everything more than the toughness he projected. 

“Do you… need to go to a hospital?” He asked, concerned about the fact that your heart had been racing for more than an hour now. 

“No.” You assured him. “It’s like this all the time. I just need a lot of water - and rest.” 

He nodded. 

“So - you’re not afraid of me?” He confirmed gently. 

“No.” You nodded. “You’re really not that scary.” 

You flopped back onto the bed in order to lay down, but you didn’t miss the tiny uptick at the corner of his mouth - the small flash of a smile that he gave you at these words.

[brandwhorestarscream]

OK OK JUST HEAR ME OUT!

Post-war peace negotiations and treaties and stuff, bots and cons trying to make nice. Things are still rather tense but both sides are genuinely trying to make this work. There's an upcoming Important Leader's Summit in decepticon territory or smthn, idk it's not really important, and Optimus is always walking on eggshells whenever he and Megatron meet up. The laat thing he wants to do is offend him somehow and reignite the fighting, so he's always sure to be as civil and polite as possible. This is his first time being invited to the decepticon capital, as usually their meetings take place on neutral ground. He thinks, 'well I cant show up without a gift to our hosts'.

Megatron is an ex-gladiator, right? Warframe cultural respects warrior prowess and athletic ability and weapons and stuff, right? So he decides he's gonna bring a nice fancy flashy sword, has it specially commissioned and everything. A paper thin, hyper-sharp blade, hilt carved with a decepticon and autobot symbol alike and inladen with a fancy off world gem. No one really uses melee weapons anymore, so it's a rather antique gift, but it shows respect for the culture, no? It should be an acceptable "thank you for hosting" present.

He goes to the summit, gives Megatron the blade, and can't help but notice he's acting rather Off™ all evening. Just before they part ways, Megatron tells him, "I accept."

No idea what that's about. Probably just accepting the continuing peace agreements.

He wakes up the next morning to about 10 million missed calls, Ratchet and Prowl (and everyone else for that matter) blowing up his comms, and he gets slapped in the face with an official announcement made in decepticon territory: Optimus Prime and Lord Megatron to be conjunxed

Whoops 🤭 the gift of a blade is considered a proposal of marriage in warframe culture, and OP just accidentally asked for Megatron's hand. Worse yet, his proposal was accepted. What the hell is he gonna do now?!

[signedaiko]

Hi! Could I uhhhhh,,,, request some MTMTE continuity about a gender neutral human liaison aboard the LL who struggles with social anxiety and has low self esteem, who's been isolating in their habsuite for quite a while because they convinced themselves that the bots aren't really interested in them (or straight up ignoring them). What bots (it's up to you to chose!! :D) would try to get them out of their shell and show them that they are actually well liked on board, and are actually worried about them since they haven't seen them in a while? (Also could it be possible for that request to be platonic?) Thanks a lot!!!

Brainstorm | Fort Max | Siren [MTMTE]

In which you've been isolating yourself, and they try to get you back out there.

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Human | Autobot. Platonic.

Brainstorm

What could this self-centred narcissist possibly notice about anyone else?

Turns out, he could notice the lack of their compliments, especially yours

You used to stop by at least once a day to ask him about his projects and tell him how cool they were, and he's really starting to miss that kick, even just three days without it

I mean, his schedule is slam-packed with... things... to go

But he SUPPOSES a little trip to the humans room couldn't hurt; he could work a bit of overtime today

You're not getting it sweet with him; oh no, Brainstorm is literally grabbing your whole mattress with you on it and taking you to the lab

Even if you protest and try to hide in the blankets, everyone can tell who's there

"Are they okay?' "Oh no, will they be okay?' 'Whoa, Brainstorm! Is that where the human went?'

Parading you back to his lab, you are forced to soak in every concern the others have before he plops you right back down on his desk

When you finally peek out, he's waiting for you, holding his newest invention

"Well, aren't you going to ask what I've been up to?"

Fort Max

It wasn't like him to worry too much about the others on board

But he had heard your name whispered by others, mostly in the form of concern and wonder as to where you'd gone

Something about it tugged at him, because he also missed having you check on him

It was about time he returned the favour, so even when you don't let him in, he squeezes himself into your too-small-for-him-too-big-for-you room to poke you out of bed

"Come on, human, you can't just lay there forever."

He's pulling all the lines you used on him back on you, urging you to stop whining and crawl out of the nest of blankets you'd been rotting in for a week

It's hard for him to get personal about it, but he can be strict

"You have ten minutes to get ready, or I'm taking you outside in whatever you're wearing."

Not really wanting your print pyjamas and stained graphic tee to be your reintroduction, you comply

He won't force the issue on anybody, but he will make sure to make it very obvious he's holding you so you receive every greeting possible

"Alright, Max, point taken."

Siren

It wasn't like you to avoid Swerve's so many nights in a row

And while he doesn't remember the last time the two of you spoke, probably because he was talking over you, he misses your company

He's just trying to coax you out of your room with kind words

Doesn't realize you only leave because he's literally yelling and everyone's staring

Earplugs in and noise-cancelling headphones on, you're ready to be in a room with him for even a moment

Siren uses as much of an inside voice as he can manage to ask what's up, and for once, he actually listens more than he talks

No one liking you? No way! You're the coolest! You're a whole other species worth of cool!

Encourages you to clean up and picks out an outfit for you to wear while you shower

Yes, it matches his paint job

Once you feel presentable, you're off; he's racing down halls in his alt, trying to get you to cling to him and jump you outta your shell

When you're at Swerve's, his announcement of your return is hard to miss

Everyone cheers and takes turns coming up to see you again, and Siren never leaves your side

If you feel your social battery run out, he's ready to get you home safely

Author's Note - I actually chose the bots I felt were the funniest/unlikely to try because thats the joy of life, you can do as you like in life!

I also love Siren