#Blood Devil [Ic post] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

malvoile · 7 months ago

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Me and the Devil ; i

ɪᴛ ʀᴀɪɴꜱ ᴏɴ ᴄᴀʟᴀᴅᴀɴ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʀɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ.

word count: 7k warnings: arranged marriage, politics, graphic scenes of blood, violence, & death of family. trauma, past abuse (harkonnen&feyd rautha warning) not much else. mutual mistrust. notes: hi! tysm to my new followers ily all <3 here's chapter one remastered of this fic [originally posted on @tremendum ] - (inspiration for reader's family is taken from the family of tsar nicholas ii, so if it feels familiar that's why.) feedback very much appreciated :)

prelude series masterlist

Penitent Crimes of Retaliation;

“In accordance with the legal doctrine of the 'Reprisal Accord', as sanctioned by the High Court of the Landsraad, attacked houses are granted the right to retaliate against proven offenses committed against them; This action shall such be labelled as ‘Penitent Crimes of Retaliation.’

Under this mandate, should sufficient evidence be presented, the aggrieved house may initiate a retaliatory strike and is sanctioned to engage in warfare against the offending party. While reparations for damages incurred during the conflict are mandated, perpetrators shall be exempt from criminal sentences ensuring a balanced recourse within the framework of inter-house disputes; as deemed by a jury of the Great Houses Major and Minor at court."

- From the Reprisal Accord, Office of the Padishah Emperor. Imperium, 10041.

There was once a time when green was your favorite color.

You'd enjoyed a childhood of it – Peridot stones glittering upon headdresses, jade figurines, the velveted forest of winter dresses; halls draped with verdant portraits of the faces which came before you, and before you, and before you – all shroud in that forested pride; an ancient thing, to know the ground of the planet and to take life from the same roots as the trees around you.

A life cushioned in the nested hearth of mountainside and jade pools of glacier; and of course the breathstealing height of the sacred Pine. Viridescent flicks of the woven banner of your house, waving in the snow-whipped wind; A snarling green wolf upon grey armor, a hall of decadent verdant heirloom stones.

And in the three months each year when the ice melts off the lower glaciers – the glacial lakes, thawed into that deep emerald green. Your brother, your sisters and you, charging with wild hollers and flailing limbs as tutors and soldiers alike chased after you; scolds and yelps of fear dying on chapped lips as young bodies leapt into the glossy pools, rippling screams through the woods.

In the yawning abyss of childhood, there’s always been that lingering haunt color; When the men of a faraway House Major arrived to retrieve your older sister, she'd been shroud in that very same sacred pine-satin. An elegant dress, you remember quite clearly – draped in gold and jade, haunting the mouth of the ship in her shining emerald headpiece as she turned to wave goodbye for the last time.

A constant source of home, perhaps; and a reminder of the ever-churning yield of abundance the planet gifted your family. Gifts of life, spurting through the ice, growing over centuries within the warm breast of mountain caverns – miners returning to the villages and towns surrounding the castle, hands stained with verdant dust. Green, that gift of life.

Even at your sister's funeral.

A glossy forested casket, laid to rest in the ground of a foreign planet – the wind was sharp against the dark emerald veils of the women of House Bourbon the day you said goodbye to your sister.

Killed by the birth of her first – a son. You became the oldest of your siblings that day.

It was an honor, your parents had told you through tears as the earth swallowed the emerald peeks of casket through handfuls of dirt; an honor to serve your family, to serve the Sisterhood, to serve the Imperium.

Years churn on, as they always do – and somewhere across the Imperium, perhaps a new life has sprouted ,evergreen above the plot where your sister lies in eternal rest. But you can hardly stand to look at green anymore.

No, instead, you mostly see black.

They'd sent you away to make for your house a fortune; a son, they'd wished, for your sake - and, by whispers of your Lady Mother, a daughter – but the nest you made was one of fear and survival; a place crawling with shadows and monsters and deadly smiles.

Your na-Baron.

If Feyd-Rautha ever had a semblance of hesitancy, it was when you first met four years ago. You were at the end of your seventeenth year and he, freshly eighteen – a cordial boy by at least Harkonnen standards; escorting you with an arm held out, eyes malicious and teeth glinting but nonetheless tamed to curved glances and sickeningly sinister grins.

He'd even called you Lady Bourbon those first few months on Giedi Prime.

Perhaps in many ways, you can consider yourself lucky. Even if only for your bloodline, or the power laced through the syllables of the name you come from – or even, Maker forbid, in some way for yourself – Feyd-Rautha has indeed taken special care of you. Perhaps he does care for you – the care a panther reserves for his chosen prey.

Despite his endless vanity, he still has stooped so as to admit he waited too long to claim you as wife; a feat which, in some way, might bring him just a step higher in the chokehold his family holds the Imperium – and you, with tongue as sharp as your mind, know when to push and when to dissolve into those dark shadows he loves so much.

So you’ve let him stew in fury, avoiding eyes and sneaking from column to column; ears pressed to oaken doors with a trembling hand.

The accusations had come from Baron Vladimir; House Bourbon has been stealing the precious refinery codes, committing treason against the trading accords along the Harkonnen-dominated exportation route. And perhaps, he thought, you’ve been the one to plot against your beloved future family.

But Feyd-Rautha knows better – knows you'd never dare betray him for the sake of your life or purely through the denial of access. Feyd was, after all, the one to demand a public execution of your family and, in the same breath, redirect your sentencing to imprisonment. As if you weren't already.

Don't look away. See what we do to scum, my pet?

Hatred flows thicker than blood; and perhaps if you'd had your blade this morning, you would have finally plunged it right into the junction of creamy skin upon his neck, right there in the stands.

You were, in some ways, relieved when their bodies hit the sand fast. You've never seen your brother's skin so reflective as you did this morning; and the black sun, oppressive as it is intense, still could not hide the blood that had seeped from him.

A deafening roar of the crowd still did not muffle the glistening cries of the two girls; the ones no older than seventeen and nineteen, the ones who carry your nose, and your hair, and your laugh, and your blood. The crowd could not muffle the sharp loss of breath as the blades slid slow across the seam of their necks to spill that which you share so intrinsically.

You'd swallowed thickly, twitching to look away, gasp – to cry; but any semblance of pain was concealed under layers of unbudging, seething hatred. There is no space here for anguish; Your na-Baron would love it too much.

Why don't you leave me with them, then? You'd hissed through your teeth.

Though he was wild and psychotic, growling with hunger at the bloodsport in front of him, he heard you for what you'd said. Feyd's fingers pulled your hair hard, forcing your chin up towards his crazed stare. A sickly glint in the black sun, his teeth shone with hunger.

You'd have me throw you to your Wolves, and lose my prize? He'd tutted, kissing your forehead with a sickening sweetness; enough so that the servants had turned away their spider-black gazes. They didn't care much for the acts of affection you'd occasionally show one another – they know just as well as you that in a world marred by ugliness, any glimpse of beauty becomes a hauntingly grotesque show of power.

He'd snarled, a growling rumble through the chanting crowd of spectators screaming kill the Wolves; His breath was hot against your cheek. You're mine to keep – there's plenty of life left for you to serve.

He'd held your hand tight as they slit your father's throat – he was too drugged to put up a fight worthy of retaining his life; after minutes, his blade fell. It was then both of your sisters, swift deaths prolonged only by the wisps of prana-bindu that remained in their muscles’ memories, by the screams that heightened the jeering crowd in bloodthirst. Next came the assassination of your brother; the Tsarevich, the boy whose grasp on his knife shook as he looked up towards your seat helplessly.

Your mother had fought as much as she could in her drugged state – a Weirding Woman, whose flashing arms and darting legs outsmarted the Harkonnen fighters for far longer than what must have been expected. A Ginaz fighter until the end.

You saw it all with nails torn into your palms; the Harkonnens are ruthless, and Feyd-Rautha had sat calmly beside you with a sickly grin.

Your mother met the slow knife’s blade against her throat. It should have finished quickly – but in your horror: The neckline of her gown was too high, and too thickly inlaid with encrusted heirlooms.

Bless their voided souls.

The emeralds that tore from her gown as she'd spilled her blood to the sand sent a ripple of pain out of your throat; and Feyd had buried his face in your neck, teeth sharp and gaze glued to your own ruby blood beading out of your clenched palms, blackened in the sun's light.

If anybody would have bothered to look before burning the bodies, you know they'd find all the family diamonds sewn into the fabric of their clothing. Centuries of your House, melted away.

And Feyd-Rautha had drank up your agony with his lips, smiling as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Now, alone and away from the thick industrial air, your chambers are cold and suffocating.

There are screams coming from the hall – not the kind that you've grown to associate with your na-Baron testing his new blades, but the kind that comes with danger. With change.

As it turns out, you are not Feyd-Rautha's to keep any longer.

A loud noise outside of your quarters jolts you from your bed with shaky legs, whispering to yourself. They're coming for you. The sheets are crisp against your awaiting, tensed body; the blade gifted to you on your nameday three years ago by your husband-to-be grasped in your palm; still tainted with the ghost of your own blood.

Your whispers reverberate in the empty room, a spiny crawl of black moulding curling around your bed and awaiting the coming voices. "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me–”

Your voice shakes, despite yourself. Air puffs from your lips as your blood rushes - few things remain from your early days of training, before you were sent off to become a Harkonnen; This remains a relic.

A loud clash outside – blades against the failing force of shields.

For a moment, a hand grasps your arm; ghost-white and possessive, it claws at your skin, voice rumbling through your mind. Don't look so sad, my pet.

The door to your chambers begins to slam with an external force; Soon, the soldiers will enter, and you will do what must be done.

The hand squeezes upon your wrist harder – you bite back a cry. I will never let them keep what is mine. I will find you again.

You almost wish he will.

Slow as a predator, you rise from the sheets; a preparation for a fight that will end before it begins. A fight that has already been won.

Even when the hand upon your arm is gone into the shadows, succeeded only by a whispering ghost of bruises clutching your skin, you do not stop the old prayer; in fact, you hardly notice that you're saying it at all.

Even as the doors give in.

"-and when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing – only I will remain–”

The soldiers arrive in a burst of splintered doors and smooth movements; the one at the front, flanked by only two others clad in Atreides-tan armor, triggers some faint memory from a lost childhood.

He moves towards you in the sickeningly familiar stride, and it fills you with rage.

Duncan. Why did you wait so long?

It is too late. You lunge, snarling like the wild beast you've become; You fight, because that is the only thing you know how to do. It is the only thing you have left.

Your blade falls within minutes and you're taken by the man from your past not a minute after; you're on a ship, watching the black Opiuchi B disappear in an hour.

“My Lady.”

There is a buzzing downfall of drizzling rain that slides over the umbrella’s spine above you. The air here is thicker, laced in salt and terra; the voice snaps your mind back to the ground. Wind whips the veil draped over your head as you step forward stiffly, arms sore and eyes heavy.

The dress you wear, salvaged from your family's old castle, is dusty and pressed.

It clings to your skin, drowns you, as the rain falls. A staff of House Atreides holds the umbrella above you, shielding the intricate detailing inlaid along the trim of the dress as you walk.

The dress upon your shoulders is as tight a cage as the one you inhabited on Geidi Prime; and though it was an effort of good intentions, the Atreides' insistence of providing you with the necessities for you to perform your Sabberon's traditional customary mourning rituals has left you with a prickled spine and a saturation of spite bleeding into your heart.

Your family may be gone, but the ghosts of their deeds remain with you; a hard goodbye to give when you alone remain to pay for their transgressions. Still, you have found yourself draped with the veil, the dresses, the jewelry; you, alone on a strange planet with the symbols of their crimes, of their betrayals, of their poisoned love. It's what they would have wanted.

It is a death march from the hangar into the covered acceptance hall – banners of Hawks climb high towards the ragged cliffs, whipping and cerulean in the afternoon light. And ahead, stoic and proud, the members of House Atreides await you.

Your hands brush against the dark velvet – a texture you have not felt in years. It is odd, you notice, to catch the light of your skin not wrapped completely in black fabric; It has been many years, too, since you found yourself in green.

It is with a prickled glance that you slow your pace behind Duncan Idaho – the man turns and glances at you when you begin to ascend towards the House members, but you can't bear the look of unfamiliarity that flickers over him when he looks at you now. Your chin remains high, your eyes over the line of cliff climbing towards the sky.

Duncan, after these years, still looks the same – perhaps less tall, but that has more to do with your growth than his own; You, however, are not the same girl he last saw on Sabberon. Your hackles raised, your talons flexed within your palms: A coiling beast of hatred backed into a corner.

There is a coastline far beyond the hangar – and it calls to you quietly; a vast thing, cerulean, cold, and deep. You’d been otherwise occupied when the ship entered atmo to Caladan this afternoon; the sea remains something only within your mind, a figment whispering of golden lips and curling tides in the corners of your dreams.

An urge strikes you as you begin to ascend the stone stairs towards the welcoming party; and subtly, you crane your neck outwards to catch a glimpse of that sea – a crashing call in the distance, the circle of gulls cutting through the clouded rainfall. But there is no ocean within sight; only jagged cliffs which rocket hundreds of feet above or drop off sharp below.

Duncan stops just before you; Your spine straightens once more, vision concealed in hues of pine and evergreen as you take in the retinue standing before you.

Duke Leto Atreides at the center; a man with peppered age, a tall pride and commanding stare – beside him, a woman in a gown of the same deep cerulean – Lady Jessica.

A flood of knowing penetrates you the moment your eyes find hers; through the veil she stares at you, before flicking her sight beyond you, to the Reverend Mother who’d travelled with your retinue as per High Court orders. A voice curls in the back of your mind, stalling your heartbeat for a slow moment. Hello, sister.

Your lips purse as you look to the right, stood tall next to Lady Jessica; a boy intense in stare and proud in ceremonial uniform, eyes already awaiting your gaze with a sharp curiosity. Paul Atreides.

The son to whom you're now destined.

Even from your obstructed vision, there is no hiding such sharply beautiful features – a sculpted visage kissed with a smattering of freckles from the Caladan sun, pale from the weather; a curve of pouted lips, full, furrowed brows – curled dark locks and eyes wide and just as penetrating as his mother's. A properly handsome heir, you allow your heart's skip; But Maker, you realize as he solemnly watches your veil shift in the breeze, those eyes are so green.

And most peculiar – within them, there is no hunger; nor hatred, no inkling of emotion besides a giveaway twitch of curiosity in the dragging gaze over your shrouded form. Some ancient stirring in your chest, a hibernated anger, a desire to bare teeth towards such an unassuming and altruistic stare – though you do no such thing, remaining balanced upon your feet and tense with the coiled hibernation of an awaiting serpent.

There are eyes upon you with each movement of breath from your chest, and it stirs your fear in a way you’ve not felt in a long time.

It was easy to go unseen with the Harkonnens; by nature of arrogance and brashness, they paid no mind to the girl hiding around the shadows, slinking through the halls with a dark stare but blood that still bleeds green. The Atreides are no fools, and you are not one to think so; where Harkonnen honor lacks, Atreides honor flows in abundance. Though still, any such action that might come from a place of intrinsic value sets your teeth to edge.

The Great Houses of the Landsraad have charged you to leave your nest of shadows, and you have done so. You have been shipped to a new world, a new chain to which you will forever be shackled.

You have learned to find the betrayal of emotion that lingers within the stare of men like Feyd-Rautha and Vladimir Harkonnen – the hunger, the greed, the danger; you have learned to sharpen your edges with the blade of their power, and you know now what your place in this galaxy must be.

And yet, Paul Atreides: His stare betrays no emotion but duty; a foreign thing to you in these times, though as you scrutinize the twitch of his brow or the brush of eyelashes against cheek, you find yourself struck wary and off-balance.

He does not have that wolfish hunger in his stare that you’ve come to know – in truth, if not for the boyish pout of his pink lips and his freshly-shaven jaw, you might have dared mistake him for his father; A Duke.

You might have remained in your study of your betrothed if not for the echoing voice of Duke Leto speaking your name. A snap of your gaze towards the man in front of you as he nods warmly, “Welcome.”

It is an effort to bow in return to him, wincing through your stiffened muscles as your headpiece chimes with your movements.

“We are honored to welcome you to Caladan.” It is an exceedingly polite, humane tone with which he addresses you; you, a stranger who has been delivered from the protection (which itself might even be a laughable term) of their sworn enemy.

Though despite the sincerity, you find yourself struck with a stinging embarrassment: There is no honor to your presence, not anymore.

It gives you a moment to gather your expression, however hidden behind the veil it may be – perhaps they can't quite make out your face, but Lady Jessica watches closely. She sees.

You take a sharp breath, swallowing away the lump of emotion in your throat.

“Thank you, Duke Leto.” It is steel which grinds the melodically polite veneer of your voice; and without a hesitation you turn to greet the Lady of the House.

“Lady Jessica, it is a pleasure.”

In response you are offered a smile as warm as the Duke’s voice; there is a flicker of understanding which floats along the line of blue in her irises, and it compels you to continue, “Thank you for welcoming me to your home,” You finish, hoping the steely reflection within your voice does not bleed unto the other ears.

The rain falls quietly overhead, sliding over the high-drawn ceiling of the open acceptance hall. “We understand that these are trying times,” Lady Jessica begins; your legs feel weakened in a moment of shortened breath, though she finishes in a quiet nod. “We are relieved to have you on Caladan.”

The spin of worldchange has caught up with you at the reminder of such trying times – a day and a half’s travel between systems behind you, and yet the deaths of your family meet you still with a fresh sickness of shock each time you close your eyes. Your headdress chimes lightly when you bow your head once more in appreciation of her words.

The welcome feels rather intimate, in this moment – a retinue of four strong flanks behind you: Duncan Idaho, the Reverend Mother, and two Atreides soldiers; and before you stands the Duke and Lady, their Heir, and a party of five men in Atreides uniforms. Your eyes sweep them efficiently – no weapons; a surprising show of trust, knowing who indeed you have just been delivered from the clutches of.

Perhaps they'd thought they'd be taking in some injured little dove; a cooing thing, wings clipped and battered by the ferocious boy who'd gifted her with a knife plunged between her ribs on her eighteenth nameday. A bitter thought.

The scar that lies just below your breast on your right side is not a reminder, but instead fate carved into flesh – it does not ache; it hums with the echoes of pain grown to purpose.

It echoes of the months spent thrown into a pit under the glaring black sun; Not the arena that rang in the end of your family, no – this pit is smaller, with one large seat for the na-Baron himself; one not with a crowd of vicious jeering but with drugged concubines and slaves clutching blades to service his na-Baroness.

A place to watch his pets play.

Your eyes glance to the curved wounds scabbed over your hands – little half moons, skies of pain, etched into the palms of your hands. Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common.

Unfortunately, you endured; a hard lesson, to live with Harkonnens, to be one of them – and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

It has been long enough for a bout of thunder to rumble up in the heavens above; you turn to the young man who stands next to Lady Jessica.

Your betrothed watches you in a peculiar tilt of head – subtle, but analytical; a gaze so green you have to look away, nodding slightly as you speak once more. “My Lord,” your heart thuds in your chest uncomfortably, wondering if he, too, will be as displeased as Feyd so often was when you spoke to him; though Paul does not so much as move as he inhales softly, eyes coasting over your jaded silhouette.

“My Lady.” He returns the formality with a voice much softer than expected; your heart is struck with a cool unease, distrust tightening its clutches around your throat.

A silent moment hangs thick between you; it is only then that you see the tense coil of Paul’s shoulders – surely a mirror of your own. Defiance, your mind tells you. Though Duncan Idaho’s voice cuts through your observations quickly. “We have much to discuss.”

Cutting to the chase, as always; you are relieved for the attention to fall off your presence as you let out a short exhale. “Yes–” though the Duke lifts a brow, eyes caught on the lump of gauze which wraps around Duncan’s bicep, concealed by his uniform. “–Idaho, Do you need to see treatment?” He questions the Swordsman.

As Duncan laughs, your shoulders tense; and before you can consider some quieter death, he begins to speak. “No. Harkonnen blades are sharp – but so are Lady Bourbon's nails.”

It is immediate, the prickling of eyes which befall you from all sides, and a heated stare from your betrothed that you steadfastly ignore for the sake of glaring at Duncan. There is a smirk growing on his lips as the Swordsman addresses you. “You fight differently than I remember, Little Bourbon.”

An old nickname, unearthed from the catacombs of the life you once lived in the wintered palace of Sabberon; a nickname so cherished in your youth and so foreign now that it knocks the air from your chest. Resentment curls within you at the warmth upon his tongue.

The shame floods you just as fast as the pride does, and in the aftermath, you stand just as rigid as before, hands clenched into the velvet of your skirt, seething under your veil.

There is no hiding the shock upon the Atreides' countenances; before them stands some monster, some savagery wrapped up in a gown and a pretty smile hidden beneath a veil.

It had been a habit – rabid hounds don't tuck tail when cornered, do they?

Nonetheless, you smile tight behind the veil, trying not to think of the life you've just left – of what cold life lies ahead.

When you respond, your voice is frigid. “It has been a long time, Duncan.” You muse; Paul’s piercing gaze of green penetrates the veil, but you ignore him.

“Threats demand evolution.”

The rain is gone into mist by the next day.

It rolls in fog along the moors outside, taunting an echo of tides far below the castle – in the morning room, forks scrape over blue-plated China. A grandfather clock lives in the corner; the seconds pass in quiet, insistent ticks.

A cleared throat, a swallow of water – air blown across a plane of steeped tea.

Your eyes burn from exhaustion.

To your relief, your arrival last evening held no such time for small talk – you were whisked away by the service staff to make sure your quarters were comfortable; in the minutes you’d been given to yourself, you’d found the clothing of a former life – dresses, tops and trousers of yourself, your sisters and your mother; the dressings salvaged from the Castle on Sabberon in the week leading up to the trial at Harko Arena.

All washed thrice of soot and rubble, hanging in wait of your touch within the wardrobes in the room. A sickening feeling had haunted you the moment you’d slipped your mother’s old ceremonial ferronnière and hair chain; the reflection of your stare in the mirror resembling too close the sharp gaze of her own. And that feeling had lingered in the shadows of your room still as you shut away the diadem of gold and emerald, the gowns, the old trousers your sister would wear to ritual; your eyes, burning along the skyline in the distance as you locked the wardrobe with trembling fingers.

Late in the evening, you'd attended a meeting in a small conference hall.

There, sat across from Paul, Masters of War and Swords and Strategy, a Mentat, and Lady Jessica, the Duke had asked you questions, ensuring you were not harmed – and perhaps more importantly, trying to ensure there was no malicious intent to your presence. It was in your sleepy haze you first detected the twitching motions of Lady Jessica's hands, the flicking gazes of the others as your voice carried to them. A war language, you’d realized quite quick. They think I am lying.

You'd only been there for ten minutes before you were escorted by a handmaid back to your chambers, where you sat without rest through the night.

Truthfully, you're breaking fast this morning with Lady Jessica and Lord Paul out of courtesy; You were up far before the sun had teased the horizon this morning, staring emotionless at the ghost who stood in the corner of your new chambers.

He is not a new visitor; in the hazy world between waking and dreaming, you’re well used to the ghost – how he smirks by the foot of your mattress, whispering with sharp teeth, with sweet memories, with promises of blood and pain. You’d grown used to his presence, and you’d remained upright for most of the night – until something moved in the corner of your vision, and you screamed.

That had woken one of the servants.

She came in with her head tilted down, holding a pitcher of water; you asked her to stay.

Her name is Hestia; close enough in age if not younger, as she must be merely twenty – the silence was hesitant but not wholly unpleasant as she’d sat, wary but willing as you shared the pot of tea brought for you.

It wasn't until she'd brought you breakfast a few minutes later that you realized the staff must have been informed of your ancestral customs before your arrival – she said nothing as you ate silently, staring out towards the coast of rocky cliffs and rolling moors you could just barely make out from your chamber windows. She’d helped silently to smooth your hair under your veil as you’d drawn it in preparation to leave the room; and with a beat of hesitance, you’d almost admitted to her you did not wish to wear it.

Now, you sit quite similarly; hands perched in your lap, tea in front of you untouched as the food on your plate.

Your future husband sits across the table from you – with a motion sluggish and ruminating, he pushes the omelet around on his fork. You find the boyishly restless knee from Paul, one which shakes the table just slightly, jilting your glass full of water.

A polite and quiet conversation follows; some throw off observation of the weather this coming week, how you seem to have brought the sunshine – a comment that makes both you and your betrothed share a sharp glance; heat following the sudden shared connection.

Efforts to bring you into such discussions are met with your polite, quiet words – and after a short time, a woman enters and whispers something to the Lady at the end of the table. Nodding, Lady Jessica takes her leave with a pointed look at Paul, suggesting he might escort you around the castle to settle you in.

Some cold dread licks its way up your spine, though you force yourself to nod – to adapt. “–If you have time, my Lord, I'd appreciate it.”

He seems equally pricked by his mother’s suggestion, though he hides it quite well – a quiet, chivalrous demeanor suits his striking features, and you find your distrust mounting in some self-preserving effort.

Lady Jessica’s leave brings a gust of air through the morning room, and soon you’re met with the scent of forest; a warm soap, sharp with the efforts of Caladan’s bright ocean salt and wooded hills to the west that lingers upon his skin. Your face flushes in the heat of the sudden morning rays, exposed by a gap in the clouds.

It's silent for a few moments as only the two of you remain; Your food untouched, his half-eaten.

The wall behind Paul boasts an intricate geometric wall of wood and empty-space; a fascinating architectural choice which complements the beauty of Caladan’s moors – you find yourself intent on tracing each line laid before you, ignoring the glossy glint of Paul’s hair in foresight. In the silence of youthful discomfort, the quiet feels inescapable – until it isn’t.

“Are you one of them?”

His eyes trace you when you return to his visage. Them?

In a slow realization, it occurs to you that Paul might assume you are just as bald and sickly as each Harkonnen; that perhaps their soil, so poisoned, might have penetrated the evergreen veins that carry your life to each part of you – might have wilted the very things that make you so uniquely yourself.

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of chains upon the crown of your head today; you are not a Harkonnen, and you never will be.

Perhaps that would have been the preferred choice of words, but instead from your lips fall a curt sentence: “I have hair.”

In the morning light, you glance at the skin of your arm; The skin that boasts arm hair, none of the sickly pale skin that knew of no clean air nor healthy sunlight – your skin, glowing with real melanin and health.

It is a brash choice to speak with such frivolity; You'd not dare speak so freely on Geidi Prime – stars, you'd never have spoken this freely at home on Sabberon, either – but there is no home anymore.

And if you've learned one thing in your years since coming of age, it's that the Great and Noble Houses of the Landsraad are crawling with perjurers, fabricators; Paul is likely the same.

If the Atreides boy must be wed to you, you cannot help that; They can dress you, insist on your traditional customs – but you will not go down easy. No matter how cold the home, you can be colder – you are more than the bones which hold you up; crueller than the demons that kept you in their ghostly grip for four years.

Though at your words, Paul’s cheeks flush a peculiar pink – and his lip twitches in a momentary lapse of stoicism. A lost battle, it seems, as you are rewarded with a small, boyish grin flickering over his visage. “No,” he starts again, eyes penetrating your own somehow, even beneath the layers of green that wrap around you. His breath comes in a short exhale, “Not Harkonnen,” His elaboration grows quiet as he continues, “I meant…Bene Gesserit.”

Your stomach chills.

His eyes seem to know the words which whisper around your mind, and a faint sense of memory gnaws at the cage within your head. After only half a moment’s hesitation, you shake your head. “No, my Lord.”

It must be what he expected – he does not so much as blink; though a flicker of knowledge passes over his face and he closes off, eyes flashing.

You are – despite your resolve – coaxed by his expression to continue, “I suppose I was…” Your hand tugs the sleeve of your gown.

“–Or, I was supposed to be.”

Your tone, unemotional; Paul bites back the suspicion that climbs up his throat. He’s no fool; he saw the glances between his mother and you, however short – in those breaths, the buzzing of his mother’s whispers behind shut doors, her eyes quaking and steadfast in the same.

And, of course, the lapping memories of dreams upon a beach of consciousness; a face beneath a shroud, a whisper from golden lips, a pathway dimly lit and forked into the foggy horizon.

He stands when you rise from your seat.

The dress you wear is unlike any he’s seen outside of your culture’s books; a waterfall of emerald that pools and flows – some frozen-limbed weeping willow, kissing the face of a thawing lake. He offers an arm to you, and you loop yourself to him with only a breath of hesitation.

Your voice comes again from those lips so hidden behind the veil of pine. “I was supposed to be a lot of things.”

Your voice is undeniably beautiful; strong, cold, unwilling. Polite, yes – but calculating, aggressive. Coiled in a nest, watching, waiting to strike.

She tells the truth.

His mother had signaled during the council the night before a dissection of your honesty; Yet trust is a fragile thing, and as much as he places faith in Duncan and his father, the thought lingers of distrust.

He saw the claw marks you'd left upon Duncan; a man you've known since you were a young girl. By decree, Paul is now bound to you in marriage; but he has spent endless hours unraveling the Harkonnens — their cunning, their strategy, their thirst for power – and yet, according to Duncan, the Baron and his brutish nephew simply let you go, unscathed and unpursued.

It gnaws at him, such inexplicable mercy from a house that knows no such thing.

Paul’s wariness does not bleed through his posture, as indeed it does not with you: You walk with your chest out, back as straight as a soldier’s; your words are cordial, indifferent.

Halls pass as he murmurs a light overview of the castle’s history, introducing you to Houseworkers as you stop to greet them; he is rather surprised by your indifferent charm that seems to enrapture the workers and scare them all the same; he wonders, then, what this life will be like, when you become the Duchess and he Duke.

A revolt in his heart; one childish and quelled by duty and understanding – and by his father’s words, burnt sharp into his mind.

Duty often requires us to navigate paths we may not have chosen for ourselves, Paul. You may not always like her, but you will treat her with the respect and care befitting of a future wife.

Love may come to you in other ways. But you will marry her, you will respect her, and when the time comes, together you will sire an heir.

Outside the walls, it is quiet – the wind is calmed, the tide drawn by the looming moon in the morning sky; you and Paul share no more than one unintentional glance broken up by wind-warmed cheeks and a softly cleared throat.

It is not until he escorts you along a path that winds down out of your sights that he notices your change in demeanor. Beside him, you take a deep breath, footsteps faltering as you slow – a blink of concern until he follows the direction of your veil towards a clump of moss sprawled across the earth. Curiously, Paul slows to a stop beside you.

For a moment, you stare down at the dirt and fallen tree limbs, the grassy field and rocks; though as if an invisible string pulls you upwards, you snap your head, voice sheepish behind your veil. “Apologies, my Lord.” You start to turn, “I've read of plants like this, but never seen them before in person.”

It is an odd moment in which Paul comes to understand: He knows what Giedi Prime is like, and your homeworld, from what he's read in the books on Sabberon, is mostly Glaciers, forests, and high altitudes.

The notion of you finding interest in Caladan’s flora and fauna is as bizarre as it is endearing – and so instead of moving along, Paul bends to grasp a bit of moss from a fallen trunk.

Your veiled visage tracks him as he returns to his full height; The earthy dirt spreads between his nimble fingers, green and soft against his skin. You watch him silently, curiously.

“It absorbs up to twenty times its dry weight in water,” He explains in an echo of an old ecological lesson, pushing the spongy material with the nail of his thumb. “Banks of it grow just around the brackish tidepools below the castle.”

Your interest, piqued, causes your head to crane slightly from your small height – he can tell, even without seeing any part of your face, that you are fascinated; it brings him a moment of pride.

At his gesture towards the coastline just peeking below, you follow in a slow move of interest, breath coming soft from hidden lips. He watches the side of your silhouette flutter in the breeze. “Am I allowed to see?” You ask stiffly, arms hanging at your sides.

An odd request – one which penetrates any semblance of protectiveness for his homeworld and instead strikes alarm in his chest. What such monsters do you come from that you must ask such foolish questions?

He lets the moss fall back to the stump, brows furrowing. “You are to be Lady Atreides one day.” His voice does not reveal any hint of his resistance to this fact, and for this, he is grateful. “You do not have to ask permission to see your own land.” He finishes, cheeks warm with the insistence of the seabreeze and the alarm which still thuds through his heart.

You have grown quiet – in the rushing blow of wind, you are still as an evergreen.

The wind from the sea whips in misty breaths even this high; inky tresses swirl around his vision and are swept away by his own hand – there are no words from you for several very long breaths, in which you clear your throat.

“I…do not feel well.” Your voice is sudden, thick with some hint of insistence – though your spine does not bend, it does not yield; a small breath as your head cranes up. Paul sees a glint of eyes through the ripple of green. “Please, if you would excuse me.”

It is not below Paul to entertain your fib – for your sake, sure; but rather for the growing weight of bitterness that festers in his chest each time he thinks of what is to come. Paul escorts you to your chambers in a tense silence that echoes only the footfalls and the swishing of velveted fabric.

You slip into your chambers with a polite and half-whispered thanks to his looming frame. Paul watches the fabric of your dress curl around the corner as the door shuts.

Upon his return to his own quarters, Paul catches Hestia; a girl known long before she began working for the House. He requests she bring you some bread and cheese, and send Dr. Yueh to check on you once more.

An insistent tapping grates in his mind as he stalks the corridor towards his rooms; a clock from halls away, ticking away the seconds – hands clench, flex; an itching shiver down his spine as he turns corner towards his chambers. A flicker of green around the corner just across the hall sends his stomach to tense, stilling in a moment of suspicion; hackles raised, Paul blinks away paranoia as a Houseworker trims a houseplant. A hand swipes over his visage, massaging his eyes.

Threats demand evolution.

The memory of your voice pierces his thoughts – and without a second thought, he turns heel and makes towards the training room, fingers itching for a blade.

follow @sandpoet for notifications & updates.

#the more i edit this story #the more i see the leaking traits of house Stark #its so awkward #i would NEVER be in that fandom!#<- me when i lie #paul atreides x you #paul atredies x reader #dune fanfiction #dune 2021 #dune movie #dune part one #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides smut

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zoomup07 · 2 months ago

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𝑰’𝒗𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖

~ 𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒓𝒂!𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ~

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: After being sold to the King of Curses to have a chance at being one of his ever-coveted concubines, you decide that you have other plans. You’ve heard about his reign of terror and you want no part of it. You attempt your escape, but unfortunately for you, Sukuna loves the chase.

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: NSFW/18+, cat and mouse dynamic, fear, sukuna is a menace, non-con elements, future angst, future smutt, future fluff, toxic (but he changes), slowww burn, sukuna and reader are both stubborn as hell

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1320

This is just a teaser! I’m still finishing the fic, but let me know if you’d like to be tagged for when I post it!

Your heart is beating out of its chest. A row of women, you included, all kneel in the throne room, waiting for your fates to be sealed. One of you will become an ever-coveted concubine for the King of Curses. The rest? Probably dead. Or eaten. Or chased for sport. Or whatever the cruel king wishes to do.

You almost laugh at the thought. A king? No no no, more like a demon. The terror he’s inflicted upon countless lands is immeasurable; only something a devil could do. No human could be capable of his power, his glory, and his unabashed cruelty, at least, not any human you know of.

Proof of this is shown in the evidence of violence all around you. It seems the demon enjoys using the corpses he collects as “furniture”. “Furniture” is a generous word because the throne before you has no structure, only consisting of a huge pile of bones, many of which are still bloody or charred. Because of the dim lighting, it’s hard to tell if there is anything else making up his throne but you decide that it’s best if you don’t know. How could someone live like this?

If the stories you’ve been told are true, you want nothing to do with this place. You want nothing to do with him. More like an it. He just can’t be human. He can’t be, but you’re not sticking around to find out. You need to find a way out of this. Your parents may have given up on you and sold you to this demon king, but you haven’t given up on yourself just yet. You’d rather die than be sold to him or anyone else.

Looking around, you see the women beside you gazing down at the floor with solemn eyes. You look to your left to find…nobody. You glance to your right, past the women and also see nobody. The fact that nobody even guards this room is telling enough. The king doesn’t expect anyone to defy his orders. He’s fully aware of the paralyzing fear he inflicts and he uses it to his advantage. However, you’re not one to succumb to intimidation. You have nothing to lose.

Slowly, you stand up. The women kneeling immediately whip their heads to you, confused and terrified. They must know what you’re about to do.

“What are you doing?” one of them asks.

“I’m leaving.”

“No! He’ll catch you! He has eyes everywhere!” another one whispers-yells.

“I’m not staying for this. He’s just going to slaughter me anyway!”

You turn, quickly trying to find an exit. Finding one, you run as quietly as you can, which isn’t an easy feat. You’re desperate. Desperate to get out and never return.

You run through endless halls. Endless chasms of blood red walls and no exits until finally, you find what looks to be the entrance. You’re about to run out until you hear a voice.

“What are you doing?” The voice, ice cold and unfeeling, belongs to someone with hair like blood in the snow. You can feel yourself shiver, whether that be from nerves or them.

“I-“ Your words are caught in your throat, but you muster up enough courage to speak. “I’m leaving.”

They look at you with an unreadable expression. “You’re leaving?” they ask, but it sounds more like a statement.

“Yes. Are you going to stop me?” you question with mock confidence. They look at you with an analyzing and calculating look. You pray that they can’t see the way you’re shaking like a leaf.

After a pause that lasts too long, the corners of their mouth slightly twitch up, as if they’re trying to hide their amusement. “I won't stop you.”

Suspicion overwhelms you, but you keep up your act. “Good,” you say. You look back to the entrance and hesitantly step out, then turn your head back to them. They nod their head, signaling that it’s okay. Without a second thought, you bolt.

You run and run and run, the adrenaline making you faster. You laugh like a madman, ecstatic to be free. You’re out and you’ll never go back. What a stupid king! His arrogance saved you. You don’t know what you’d do if he had soldiers wandering about. It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you escaped.

Eventually, you make it to a forest filled with vines and shrubs. Sunlight is nonexistent here except for the small rays that show through the gaps in the leaves. The darkness may shield you, but it also shields potential enemies. You tread slowly and carefully through the countless obstacles, swiping away the branches that scratch your skin.

This place is never-ending, just like that damn shrine. You’re growing exhausted; you just want a place to rest. A place to start a fire for when it gets dark, a place to catch your breath, a place to just be for a minute. However, that feat seems impossible at the moment, which makes you curse in frustration.

Then you hear it. The snap of a twig. A lot of twigs actually. Your heart jumps and you freeze. However, you find nobody around you, so you decide to keep walking.

Another snap of so many twigs makes your anxiety skyrocket. Normally, you would contribute it to some animal but your exhaustion is clouding your judgement, making you paranoid. What do you do? Do you stay here frozen in place? Do you scream? Play dead?

Run! your mind screams. Run!

Your legs move without your permission and you rush forward. You’ve significantly slowed down due to your fatigue but you don’t let that stop you. However, you’re forcefully stopped anyway when you trip and crash onto the forest floor. Pain explodes throughout your body, especially from your knee. A groan escapes your throat as you sit up. Your knee is bloody and raw. You blow on it to dry the blood, but your knee suddenly feels like fire. “Fuck!!!”

You immediately cover your mouth. Any noise could alert your surroundings of your presence.

You hear a low laugh from a distance. “Stupid girl, hiding like a little mouse.”

You stay deadly silent, afraid to even breathe.

A moment passes.

Then, you see him.

He’s tall. Unnaturally tall. His chest is broad and there is not one inch of him that’s not sculpted by muscle. He has…four arms. No…no it can’t be him. You hesitantly bring your gaze to his face. Half of it is distorted by some scar? A burn? The scar holds two large eyes that are pinned on you. The other side of his face looks relatively normal except for the fact that he also has two eyes on that side as well. Tattoos adorn his face and his body, some covered by the kimono tied around his waist since he couldn’t be bothered to put it on fully.

You recognize him, and your face must show it because his face morphs into a toothy grin.

“You know who I am?” His voice rumbles.

You can’t answer because all words die from your throat. You know who he is. He knows that you know.

“I know who you are,” he says as he gets closer. “I know that you thought you could get away. I suppose nobody told you that I like a little chase.”

The realization dawned on you. That snow-haired person must’ve said something. Of course they wouldn’t just let you go. Why would anyone who serves that demon ever defy his trust? Especially when the consequences of that would be dire.

The demon king kneels down, though he is still impossibly tall, and gently grabs your face, squishing your cheeks and making your quivering lips pucker. He brings his face down until his nose is practically an inch away.

“None of that matters now. All that matters is that…” he mutters with a sneer.

“I’ve caught you.”

Ask in the comments to be added to the tag list! Divider by @cafekitsune !

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk sukuna #fem reader #afab reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #angst #slow burn

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dc-megatournament · 7 months ago

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A Master List of fighters in the “Batman vs Everyone” tournament so far

If a character isn't listed here, they haven't been submitted.

List of the Fights Already Posted w/Results (in Alphabetical Order)

Red = Lost fight Against Batman

Green = Won fight Against Batman

Blue = a third option was taken

Adam West Batman =

Alphonse Elric =

Amazing Man/Will Everett = Lost

Ambush Bug/Irwin Schwab = Lost

Amy Rose = Won

Angus MacGyver = Lost

Animal Man/Buddy Baker = Lost

Annabeth Chase =

Ant-Man/Hank Pym = Lost

Aquaman/Arthur Curry = Lost

Arceus =

Arsenal/Roy Harper = Lost

Atom Smasher/Albert Rothstein = Lost

Avatar Aang = Third option; Bruce attempts to adopt Aang

Azrael/Jean Paul Valley = Lost

Aztek/Uno = Lost

Baked Beans = Won

Baldi =

Barbie = Won

Batgirl/Cassandra Cain = Won

Batman Beyond/Terry McGinnis = Lost

Batwing/David Zavimbe = Lost

Batwing/Luke Fox =

Batwoman/Kate Kane = Lost

Beast/Hank McCoy = Lost

Beetlejuice = Lost

Ben Tennyson = Lost

Big Barda/Barda Free = Won

Big Hero 6 = Lost

Bill Cipher =

Black Canary/Dinah Laurel Lance = Lost

Black Cat/Felicia Hardy = Lost

Black Lightning/Jefferson Pierce = Lost

Black Orchid/Susan Linden = Lost

Black Panther/T’Challa = Won

Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff =

Bluebird/Harper Row =

Bluey Heeler =

Blade/Eric Brooks = Lost

Blue Beetle/Jaime Reyes = Lost

Blue Beetle/Ted Kord = Lost

Blue Devil/Dan Cassidy = Lost

Booster Gold/Michael Jon Carter = Lost

Brody Foxx =

Bucky Barnes = Lost

Buffy Summers = Won

Bugs Bunny = Won

Captain America/Sam Wilson = Lost

Captain America/Steve Rogers = Lost

Captain Atom/Nathaniel Adam = Lost

Captain Cold/Leonard Snart = Lost

Captain Jack Sparrow = Lost

Captain Marvel/Billy Batson = Won

Captain Marvel/Carol Danvers = Lost

Cassie Hack = Lost

Catwoman/Selina Kyle = Third Option; They make out instead

Citizen Steel/Nathan Heywood = Lost

Cosmo and Wanda = Won

Crazy Jane =

Cyblade/Dominique Thiebaut = Lost

Cyborg/Victor Stone = Lost

Cyclops =

Danny Phantom =

Darwin/Armando Muñoz = Lost

Dazai Osamu =

Deadman/Boston Brand = Lost

Deku/Izuku Midoriya = Lost, Gains a father through Batman

Detective Chimp/Bobo T. Chimpanzee = Lost

Doctor Doom/Victor Von Doom = Won

Doctor Fate/Kent Nelson = Won

Doctor Fate/Khalid Nassour = Lost

Doctor Fate/Linda Strauss = Lost

Doctor Light/Kimiyo Hoshi = Lost

Dolly Parton =

Donald Duck = Won

Dr. Mid Nite/Charles McNider = Lost

Dracula (Castlevania) = Lost

Duolingo Owl =

Echo/Maya Lopez = Lost

Eda Clawthorne = Lost

Ed Dillinger =

Elektra Natchios = Lost

Element Woman/Emily Sung =

Eliot Spencer =

Ellie (TLoU) =

Elongated Man/Ralph Dibny = Lost

Elon Musk =

Elric of Melninbone =

Elsa = Lost

Elsa Bloodstone =

Emma Frost = Won

Enchantress/June Moone = Lost

Etrigan/Jason Blood = Lost

Eva-02 =

Ezio Auditore =

Finn & Jake = Won

Fire/Beatriz da Costa = Lost

Firestar =

Firestorm/Jason Rusch = Lost

Firestorm/Ronnie Raymond = Lost

Flamebird/Bette Kane =

Gabby Kinney =

Ghost Rider/Johnny Blaze = Lost

Ghoulia Yelps =

Godiva/Dorcas Leigh = Lost

Godzilla = Won

Goku = Won

Green Arrow/Connor Hawke = Lost

Green Arrow/Oliver Queen = Lost

Green Goblin/Norman Osborn = Lost

Green Lantern/Guy Gardner = Lost

Green Lantern/Hal Jordan =

Green Lantern/Jessica Cruz = Lost

Green Lantern/John Stewart = Lost

Green Lantern/Kyle Rayner = Won

Green Lantern/Simon Baz = Lost

Grumpy Bear =

Gundam Aerial = Lost

Gwen Tennyson = Lost

Gypsy/Cynthia Reynolds = Lost

Hatsune Miku = Won

Hawkeye/Clint Barton =

Hawkgirl/Kendra Saunders = Lost

Hawkman/Katar Hol/Carter Hall = Lost

Hawkwoman/Shayera Hol/Shiera Hall = Lost

Heather (TDI) = Won

Hellboy = Lost

Hello Kitty = Won

Hua Cheng = Lost

Hulk/Bruce Banner = Lost

Human Torch/Johnny Storm = Lost

Huntress/Helena Bertinelli = Lost

Ice/Tora Olafsdotter =

Iceman/Bobby Drake =

Invincible/Mark Grayson = Lost

Invisible Woman/Sue Storm = Lost

Iron Man/Tony Stark = Lost

Jade/Jennifer-Lynn Hayden = Lost

Jar Jar Binks = Lost

Jean Grey =

Jenny Sparks =

Jenny Wakeman/XJ-9 = Lost

Jerry (Tom & Jerry) = Won

Jesse Quick/Jessie Chambers = Lost

Jessica Jones = Lost

Jim Gordon = Lost

Joel Miller (TLoU) =

John Constantine = Lost

John Egbert =

John Wick = Won

Joker (Persona 2) =

Joker - Persona 5 =

Jubilee/Jubilation Lee =

Katara (ATLA) =

Katana/Tatsu Yamashiro = Lost

Katsuki Bakugou = Lost

Kazuma Kiryu =

Kim Possible = Won

Kirby = Won

Kuchipatchi =

Ladybug/Marinette Dupain-Cheng & Cat Noir/Adrien Agreste = Lost

Lan Wangji =

Legion =

Lieutenant Columbo =

Light Yagami = Lost

Lin Manuel Miranda =

Link (LoZ) =

Lobo = Lost

Luke Cage = Lost

Luke Skywalker = Lost

Madame Mirage/Angela Temple = Lost

Madame Xanadu = Lost

Magik/Illyana Rasputin = Won

Man-Bat/Dr. Robert Kirkland Langstrom = Lost

Manhunter/Kate Spencer = Lost

Mariah Carey = Won

Mario & Luigi = Won

Martian Manhunter/J’onn J’onnz = Lost

Mary Poppins =

Maxima = Lost

Max Tennyson =

May Chang =

Megatron = Lost

Metamorpho/Rex Mason = Lost

Mickey Mouse =

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers = Lost

Mister Miracle/Scott Free = Lost

Mizu = Lost

Mon-El/Lar Gand = Lost

Monkey D Luffy = Won

Moon Knight/Marc Spector = Lost

Mr Rogers = third option; convinced Bruce to go to therapy

Mr Fantastic/Reed Richards = Lost

Ms Marvel/Kamala Khan = Lost

Mystery Inc (Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, Scooby) = Won

Naruto Uzamaki = Lost

Nightcrawler =

Nightshade/Eve Eden = Lost

Nightwing/Dick Grayson = Won

Nimona = Won

Noo Noo (Vacuum from Teletubbies)

Obsidian/Todd Rice =

Onyx Adams =

Optimus Prime =

Oracle/Barbara Gordon = Won

Orion = Lost

Ozymandias =

Percy Jackson = Won

Phantom Stranger = Lost

Phineas & Ferb = third option; Batman hires P & F

Photon/Monica Rambeau =

Pikachu = Won

Pink Panther = Won

Plastic Man/Patrick "Eel" O'Brian = Lost

Powergirl/Kara Zor L/Karen Starr = Lost

Powerhouse/Naomi McDuffie = Lost

Power Puff Girls = Third Option; Batman recruits the PPG

Puss in Boots =

Queen Hippolyta = Won

Raven = Won

Red Hood/Jason Todd = Won

Red Tornado/Ulthoon = Lost

Regina George = Won

Rick Grimes = Lost

Robin/Damian Wayne = Lost

Robin/Tim Drake = Lost

Rocket Red/Dmitri Pushkin = Lost

Rocket Red/Gavril Ivanovich = Lost

Rogue/Anna Marie LeBeau = Won

Roronoa Zoro =

Ryu (Street Fighter) =

Sailor Moon/Usagi Tsukino = Won

Saitama = Won

Sally Jackson = Won

Sanderson Sisters (Winifred, Mary, Sarah) = Lost

Sara Pezzini = Lost

Shade, the Changing Man/Rac Shade = Lost

Sharon Carter = Lost

She-Hulk/Jennifer Walters = Lost

Shen Qingqiu = Lost

She-Ra/Adora = Won

Shredder =

Slenderman =

Snoopy & Woodstock = Won

Sogeking/Usopp = Won

Sokka (ATLA) =

Solid Snake =

Sonic the Hedgehog = Won

Spawn/Al Simmons = Lost

Spider-Man/Miles Morales = Lost

Spider-Man/Peter Parker = Won

Spider Woman/Jessica Drew = Lost

Spoiler/Stephanie Brown = Won

Squirrel Girl/ Doreen Green = Won

Stan Pines =

Star Butterfly = Lost

Starfire/Koriand’r = Won

Starman/Mikaal Tomas = Lost

Star Sapphire/Carol Ferris = Lost

Steel/John Henry Irons =

Steven Universe = Third option; Batman attempted to adopt Steven

Steve (Blue Clues) =

Stitch/Experiment 626 = Won

Storm/Ororo Munroe = Won

Strawberry Shortcake = Won

Supergirl/Kara Danvers/Kara Zor-El = Won

Superman/Clark Kent/Kal El = Won

Swamp Thing/Alec Holland =

Taylor Swift =

Terezi Pyrope = Lost

The Atom/Ray Palmer = Lost

The Atom/Ryan Choi = Lost

The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo = Lost

The Crow/Eric Draven = Lost

The Cullens (Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Jasper, Rosalie, Alice, Emmett) = Lost

The Darkness/Jackie Estacado = Lost

The Doctor = Third Option; Bruce becomes The Doctor's companion

The Flash/Jay Garrick = Lost

The Flash/Wally West Lost

The Immortal Snail =

The Pope =

The Punisher/Frank Castle = Lost

The Question/Renee Montoya = Lost

The Signal/Duke Thomas = Won

The Thing/Ben Grimm =

The Warner Siblings = Won

Thor = Lost

Tigress/Artemis Crock = Lost

Tintin =

TMNT = Lost

Tom Cruise =

Toph Beifong = Won

Troia/Donna Troy = Won

Tyson (Percy Jackson) =

Ultraman =

Uncle Iroh = Won

Vampirella = Lost

Velvet Crowe =

Vibe/Cisco Ramon = Lost

Vixen/Mari McCabe = Lost

Voltron =

Walter White = Lost

Wasp/Janet Van Dyne = Lost

Winry Rockbell =

Wei Wuxian =

Wolverine/James “Logan” Howlett = Won

Wolverine/X-23/Laura Kinney = Won

Wonder Woman/Diana Prince = Won

Wonder Woman/Nubia = Won

Word Girl/Becky Botsford = Won

Xie Lian = Lost

Yami Yugi = Lost

Zatanna Zatara =

Zheng Shang-Chi = Lost

Fights That Have Yet to Be Posted (also in Alphabetical Order)

Alfred Pennyworth

All Might

Amadeus Cho

Andros (Power Rangers)

Anomalocaris canadensis

A Random Unicorn

Batman/Jace Fox

Bingo Heeler

Captain Kirk

Carl (Llamas with Hats)

Cure Flora

Cybermen

Cybersix

Daleks

Daredevil/Matt Murdock

Darth Vader

Deadpool

Dean Winchester

Drake & Josh

Duck from Princess Tutu

Dynamite Anton

Edward Elric

Ellie Camacho

Emojibots

Emu Otori

Eraserhead

Extra Fine Neon Pink Glitter

Ford Pines

Geo-Force/Brion Markov

Ghost Spider

Giovanni Zatara

Ichigo Kurosaki

Inuyasha

Joe Hendry

Julio Richter

Kaz Brekker

Kendrick Lamar

Kisuke Urahara

L (Death Note)

Lady Cassandra (DW)

LEGO BATMAN vs 80s Joker

Lionblaze

Luo Binghe

Maggie Simpson

Martha Wayne (Flashpoint)

Midnighter

Ms Frizzle

Omni-Man

Paw Patrol

Plastique/Bette Sans Souci

Prodigy/David Alleyne

Rob Ford (crack smoking former mayor of Toronto)

Roy Kent

RuPaul

Sabrina Carpenter

Scar (FMA)

Scaramouche (Genshin Impact)

Seshomaru

Splat Black Box Dye

Stargirl/Courtney Whitmore

Suki (ATLA)

The Belchers

The Family of Blood

The Flash/Barry Allen

The Question/Vic Sage

The Ray/Ray Terrill

The Silence

Totally Spies

Tumblr Anon

Twilight Sparkle (alicorn)

Vashta Nerada

Wattpad

Zuko (ATLA)

#dc #dc comics #dcu #dc mega tournament #justice league #batman #batfam #marvel #mcu #marvel comics #batman vs everyone

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ladylooch · 9 months ago

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Lexi's Most Difficult Patient - [Nico x Lexi]

A/N: Everyone say thank you to Jay (@missjomarch) for this because I told her the fate of this being posted today rested in her hands. But also it’s almost her birthday!!!!!!!! Sooo happy early birthday to my little sister. I love you! Proud of you for all you’ve grown in this last year and cannot wait to see what is next for you!

Originally from this request.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: injury- concussion, one mention of blood

The bright afternoon sun is a little confusing to Lexi Hischier as she hustles into the Prudential Center after her sister in law. Normally, she is used to coming into this arena as the sun is setting or already down, but today’s game is a matinee showdown with the Islanders. The girls drove to the game together, but arrived late due to unexpected traffic. Lexi has Lucie in her arms, her little legs bopping against her mom’s hip as her quick steps lead them down the ramp to the elevator.

It is ten more minutes before they are settled into their seats in the family section. Lexi and Emma wave to the other WAGS, then quickly focus their attention to the game.

“Bah!” Lucie points and howls down at the ice.

“Is daddy out?” Lexi wonders, pressing her lips into Lucie’s brown hair. Her green eyes scan the ice and she smiles when she sees her husband, hustling forward with the puck.

He looks good today. Nico oozes focus, dialed in to the task at hand despite the earlier game time and lack of a pre-game nap. Lexi isn’t surprised. He had an extra pep in his step this morning when he kissed his girls goodbye.

“Nico looks good.” Emma murmurs, clapping around Lio in her lap at Nico’s shot attempt.

“Mhm.” Lexi responds, chewing on her minty gum in anticipation of the next puck drop.

Things quickly take a sour turn for the Devils after the ten minute mark of the 1st period. What started off as a fast pace game, quickly turned sluggish and frustrating as they began an undisciplined march to the penalty box. Nico spends more time killing penalties than attacking the net and his annoyance is evident as he flips his stick against the boards at the period intermission.

“Is it too early to drink?” Emma jokes, leaning back in her seat. Lio turns around, asking for a snack. “Sure, bubba. Lex, do you two need anything?”

“Can you grab me some water?” Lexi asks politely. “Oh and a cookie if they have one.”

“Yes! I hope they have the ones from last game.” Emma grins. She stands up, taking Lio’s hand for their climb up the stairs.

Emma and Lio make it back just as the second period is starting with various treats, including the desired cookies. Lio carefully balances the unopened water bottle in his hands, then beams as he hands it to Lexi.

“Good job, Lee.” His aunt murmurs, then smooches his cheek as he giggles. “How is he so big?” She pouts at Emma.

“I don’t know.” Emma sighs. Lucie had been sitting in Emma’s seat while she was gone. Her aunt scoops her up, smooching at her cheek loudly. “Mwah! How are you so big too, sweet girl?” Lexi smiles, then crosses her legs, leaning forward in her seat as she claps.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get something going.”

The second period energy is anxious. Lexi spends a lot of it bitting her bottom lip with worry. Hockey is a physical game, but these hits seem on a different level. She closes her eyes as Nico is rocketed into the boards, making the plexiglass sway from the momentum. When she opens her eyes again, she feels immense relief that he is skating away with the play unscathed.

“Oof.” Emma mutters, holding Lucie tighter.

“Not loving it.” Lexi sighs, putting a hand over her mouth.

She watches as her husband goes into the opposite end corner, fighting hungrily for a puck with the Islanders defenseman. Suddenly, another Islander player comes in and obliterates Nico, bringing an elbow up to his face to follow through his check. Lexi gasps, shooting back in shock in her chair as Nico falls to the ice in obvious pain. Timo comes barreling in, grabbing the defenseman before shaking his gloves lose.

“Ugh! Timo!” Emma grumbles.

Lexi can’t worry about Timo right now. Her sole focus is on her husband who still has his face resting in his gloves. He lays flat on his chest, then slowly makes his way to his knees, face still buried. The trainer slides across the ice to him. Lexi can feel her chest moving up and down but she doesn’t really breathe. Not until he sits up on his knees. She can’t see his face from where she is, but he looks unsteady on his knees.

“Take it slow.” Lexi whispers. She brings her clasped hands up to her mouth.

Off to the side, the refs break up Timo and the Islanders defenseman. Timo skates off with a spring in his step towards the Devils locker room. It’s close to the end of the period and blood visibly drips off Timo’s knuckles onto the white surface.

When Nico finally stands up, Emma pats Lexi’s thigh encouragingly.

“That’s a good sign.”

Lexi nods absentmindedly, then runs an anxious hand through her hair. She looks up at the scoreboard, swallowing heavily as the seconds begin to tick down again. She pulls her phone out of her purse, keeping it in her hand for the next few minutes, waiting for a phone call to come through. Instead, it’s a text asking her to come downstairs to the training room.

“They want me to go down there.”

“Oh no.” Emma frowns. Usually, injured players stick around through the game and families meet up with them after the final buzzer. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for Nico right now. “Do you want me to keep her?” Emma asks about Lucie who is still content in her lap.

“No. I better grab all our stuff.” Lexi decides. She puts her purse back over her shoulders, then grabs the diaper bag before gathering up her daughter. “I’ll see you.” She murmurs to Emma.

“Text me what’s going on when you can.” Emma requests. Lexi nods.

With their daughter in hand, Lexi nervously heads down to the locker room. A team representative meets her at the elevator, then brings her back to the training room. Players flow in and out of the room, getting work done between periods. Timo and Nico are in beds next to each other. Timo’s knuckles are being tended to while Nico lays with a towel over his eyes, mostly undressed from his hockey gear, except for his undershorts.

“Hi baby.” Lexi quietly announces her presence.

“I can take, Luc.” Timo offers, grinning at his niece.

“No you can’t. You’re bleeding.” The trainer mutters to him. Lexi chuckles.

“Thanks, T. I got her. Thanks for sticking up for her dad out there too.”

“Gonna clock him again in the third.”

“No, you’re not.” Nico mutters. “Keep the team in the game.”

Lexi and Timo share a look, then she reaches for the towel to lift it from over her husband’s eyes.

“What’s the word?”

“Concussion.” He rolls his eyes. “I disagree.” Lexi’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“Why?”

“Because I’m fine.” He snaps, sitting up. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “The team needs me.” He glares beyond his wife to the team doctor who seems unfazed by Nico’s outburst.

A silent conversation goes between the two of them, like they have already had this conversation out loud and both are too irritated to get into it again in front of Nico’s wife. Lexi looks away from her husband to the team doctor.

“I’ll leave.” Timo murmurs, hopping off the table and lumbering back into the locker room.

“Nico sustained a concussion.” The doctor begins when it is just the three of them. “Testing shows cognitive decline. He is having sensitivity to light and sound. He also thinks I didn’t see him sneak Excedrin from the medicine cabinet, but I did.” Nico rolls his eyes again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” The doctor says with finality. “Out for two weeks. We will monitor symptoms daily.” Nico scoffs, then throws the towel back down on his face, signaling he is done with this discussion.

“Did he lose consciousness?” Lexi asks hesitantly.

“No. Prognosis is good as long as he follows doctors orders.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to follow those, he can follow the wife’s.” The team doctor chuckles.

“I like that. Get him home and resting. He’ll be okay.” The doctor encourages Lexi then exits the room to head back with the rest of the team towards the third period.

“Nico.” Lexi murmurs. “Let’s go home.”

When Nico doesn’t respond. She sets their daughter on his chest. Nico grins, peaking out from the towel at their daughter’s smiley face. The two Hischiers play peek-a-boo with the towel as Lucie’s infections giggles fill the room with happier energy.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He sighs after a few moments. “I’m just frustrated. The team needs me.”

“So does this team.” Lexi reminds him, biting her bottom lip worriedly at his unfocused gaze. He holds her gaze as best he can, then sighs.

“I’m gonna shower quick, then we can go home.” Lexi frowns deeper.

“I don’t want you to fall over in there. Just get you dressed. We can shower together when we get home.” Nico grins excitedly. “Not like that.” She clarifies immediately. Nico scoffs, handing over Lucie so he can stand up.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he hops off the table. He sways into Lexi, stumbling and needing to grab the table for further balance. “I tripped over my feet.” Nico insists at his wife’s worried look.

Lexi watches his retreating back to the locker room. Lucie whines in her arms.

“Shhh it’s okay, baby.” Lexi murmurs, cradling her daughter’s head to her mouth.

Nico doesn’t seem phased by Lexi’s worry.

Fine.

They can do this the hard way then.

- - -

“Babe.” Nico grumbles as she runs her fingers through his hair to wake him up. He has been sleeping for two hours and it’s time for another check in.

“Mr. Hischier. Please open your eyes.” She drawls at him. He pops a curious eyeball open at her, like maybe she will finally give in to his pleading for sex. “How are you feeling?”

“If I say bad, will you help make me feel better?” He mumbles to her. He bites his bottom lip smugly at his own proposition. “Cause my biggest issue is this.” He grabs her hand, putting it on his growing arousal.

“Mmm.” She mewls to him, squeezing him for a moment. Nico shudders. “I really did want to reward you for being such a good patient today, but you’ve sucked.” She grins at his stammering as she moves away from him.

“Wh-what? I’ve done everything you asked today!” He mutters. “This isn’t fair. Suck my dick, baby. Please. Please, Lex.” He practically howls at her.

“I saw you take the garbage out.” She says, opening up Nico’s iPad to the Notes application. Inside there is seven days of symptom checks from the last week since his injury.

“Am I seriously being punished for taking out the trash?” He gapes at her like she can’t be serious. “What’s next? I get points off for helping with Lucie’s bath time tonight?”

“Your instructions were to what?” He balks, rolling his eyes then wincing at the motion. He brings a hand up, rubbing at the left side of his forehead.

“Patient showing sings of headache on the left side.” She mumbles as she types.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She says without looking up at him.

“It’s not from the concussion. It’s from my blue balls.”

Lexi giggles, a little snort coming out, which makes Nico laugh too. He groans, throwing his upper body into her lap exasperatedly.

“Not until you can get through the day headache free.” She reminds him, threading her fingers into his long hair. He pops up quickly, then closes one eye in discomfort.

“Maybe if we have sex I will have a headache free day.” He suggests.

“Okay, maybe tomorrow.” She pushes into his head with her pointer finger, forcing his head back down so he is laying in her lap.

“I miss you.” He sighs dramatically towards the apex of her thighs.

“You are going on the list of top 5 worst patients I have ever had. The newborns in the NICU listened better than you.” She teases him. He moves forward, digging his face into her belly button. Then he lifts her shirt, putting his mouth there and blowing a raspberry into her skin. She feels his teeth from his grin as her abdomen shakes with laughter. “Neeks, focus. What else are you experiencing?”

“Did you write down my blue balls?”

“No!” She explodes with laughter, holding his head to her stomach so he doesn’t shake too much.

“Um, I’m hungry for puss-“

“Enough.” Lexi says, putting a more professional tone into her voice. “This is serious. You could have longterm brain damage from this. We need to monitor what is happening to you.”

“Babe, I am fine.” He huffs, rolling out of her lap. “I have a headache, yeah. But it’s not like it was the first few days. I haven’t been dizzy.“ He shrugs. “I feel fine.”

“What about sensitivity? You seemed bothered by Lucie’s tears this morning.”

“Yeah because I hate when she cries.” He mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lexi looks over Nico for further evaluation. She leans forward, grabbing a wrist to check his pulse. Its strong and steady. She climbs onto his lap, looking into his eyes at his pupils and eye movement. He does seem to be doing better, but Lexi isn’t quite ready to release him back into the world. Sure, Nico has been hurt before, but this one is different. They are parents now, with more responsibilities than ever and the thought of what happens on the ice disrupting their family life has Lexi on edge.

She sighs, carding her fingers through both sides of his long, brown hair.

“You need a trim.” She mumbles.

“Oh is that on the approved list?” Nico wonders. His hands snake around her hips, pulling her into his body tighter. He lays his head on her breasts, nuzzling his nose and cheek into the right one.

“Yeah.” She says, closing her eye and placing her mouth in the part of his hair. Tears start to sting in her eyes as she clutches Nico to her chest. Her throat begins to tighten, making it difficult to breathe fully or swallow. She sucks her cheeks in, trying to fight the emotions back. She needs to be the strong one right now to get them through this.

“Your heart is pounding.” Nico mumbles, pulling back. She opens her eyes and watches as his brown eyes turn concerned and gooey at her tears. “Baby, I’m okay.” Her bottom lip trembles. Nico runs his hands up from her hips to her back, pressing her into his chest now. Lexi shudders on her next breath.

“I just can’t stomach you not getting better.”

“I know.” He whispers quietly. “But I am getting better. You’re getting me there, sweets.” He rakes his fingers through her hair, then trails them down her spine comfortingly. “I’ll be better. I promise.” His nose digs into her scalp. “What other questions do you have for me?”

“Is that all it takes for you to listen? Tears?” She tries to lighten the mood, wiping her fingers across her wet cheeks.

“Yeah. I hate when you cry too, babe. Makes me feel helpless and sick.”

“That’s how I feel when I see you laying on the ice like you were.” Nico is quiet, not knowing what he can say to make that better. He is going to get hit. Neither of them can prevent that.

Lexi presses her palm into the middle of his chest, needing to feel his heart beat. Nico’s hand comes over hers, rubbing over the tendons of her fingers as they sit quietly together.

“I love you.” Lexi tells him then pulls away. Nico smiles tenderly at her from below. His lips plumpen, asking her for a kiss. She eagerly obliges. Their tongues meld together, lips separating to let each other in. Before Lexi knows it, she is being lifted up as Nico stands. His hands eagerly grip her ass as he walks her down the hallway leading to their bedroom.

“Nico.”

“Shh. Let me love you, baby.”

Lexi melts at his words and needy tone.

When he asks like that, how can she say no?

Read more Nico and Lexi here.

#what my world spins around au #nico Hischier x oc #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #nil fan fiction

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npookie0 · 9 months ago

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ronin hcs pls :3

I have barely any hcs but I will try my best!!!

Ronin headcanons made by yours truly, enjoy.

Fluffy ones:

- When you and Ronin decided to go and enjoy pride month on a parade the two of you saw a teenager. That teenager was carrying around their non-binary flag, but they were too scared to hold it out like most people did. You expected Ronin to ignore that, but instead he approached the teenager and held out their flag with them. You never saw him so attentive before.

- Ronin purposefully keeps some of his clothes in your wardrobe to see you wear them and then accuse you of stealing from him just for shits and giggles.

- When you walk past a stray cat and it happens to cling to Ronin he will stop to pat it. He would smile at the cat and say something like "Huh, you like rotten things too?" He would look at you after he said that.

- If you're also trans like he is and you have a dysphoric day he will make sure to help you with it. "Come on baby, you are who you say you are. And to me you are fucking perfect just the way you are." He would help you bind, or try to help you with your make up (probably will fuck it up on purpose if your mood gets better) or whatever else you need to help with your dysphoria.

- Ronin isn't really open about his feelings in words, yeah he will call you his darling or sometimes whisper an "I love you", but mostly he will show it through physical touch, he's touch starved after all. He will hold your hand, poke you to get a reaction, kiss your forehead, maybe even bite you. Big and small touches are just his thing.

- If you're having a shitty day then he will roll you up into a blanket burrito and watch some sappy shit with you so you would feel better. Ice cream craving? He already bought three different flavours? You want to smash something or someone? Baby, he's standing at the door with his crowbar and a baseball bat for you.

Angst shit:

- If you were to die but Ronin had zero control over it, he would be in despair. He didn't take your life, your death wasn't his plan or your pleading. You're just... Gone? He would feel empty for a while and then fill that void with more murder. If someone else dared to murder you they would be gone in a matter of days.

- If you and him broke up in bad blood and somehow you would leave that break up alive, Ronin would be closed off for some time. The server wouldn't notice the change unless they knew him really well. He would try to keep his edgy murderer persona, but if anyone even mentioned your name he would go quiet or leave the conversation.

- Sometimes he can open up about the mess in his head or what happened in his past. He wouldn't show how emotional these topics can make him, but if you've known him long enough you will see the change. Just be there for him, squeeze his hand and say that you need cuddles even if you know that he's the one who needs them, he won't cuddle you when he's sad, the devil doesn't feel sad.

Ronin™ type of shi:

- Ronin would push you until you kill him or a random person. He wants to corrupt your head completely. So as long as blood is on your hands then he will be satisfied.

- If you're obsessed with him then it will give him a strong sense of satisfaction. You not only need him, you can't live without him. His corruption worked out even better than he anticipated.

- If someone misgenders you, acts like an asshole or harasses you in any way, you can expect their aorta on a silver platter with a pair of eyes.

- Ronin will leave you a small message after a kill somewhere on a wall. "Love you rotten darlin'" or something like that. He will laugh at your reaction and say "Awh, but I thought that you would like this cheesy shit baby."

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

That's all!!! I hope you're satisfied with these <3 I don't really make hcs so it was hard

Thank you for the ask!!!

Bye bye <3

Currently writing another rq, will try to post it tmrw

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #fluff #headcanon

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corrodedcoffinfest · 1 month ago

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Somewhere Over the Rainbow Masterlist

Thanks to those of you who brought some color to Corroded Coffin Fest this week!

This event had 35 total entries from 11 unique participants: 34 Fics, 1 Pieces of Art & 0 Other Works were submitted.

We had several new participants to CCF during this event - welcome! Stick around if you'd like. We have lots of other events coming up, starting with our 2nd Annual Corroded Coffin Fest next month!❤️

I've updated the big spreadsheet with these newest entries, bringing our current total from all events to 492!

And don't forget to check out our ao3 collection!

Note: Usually I use the General, Teen, Mature, Explicit color system for titles on our masterlists. I caught myself trying to make them the color of the rainbow instead for this event, and just went with it. But I did use that familiar color system on the rating marker, so check there!

Prompt: Red

The Lady in Red by @alicetallula | Song: The Lady in Red by Chris De Burg | Medium: Art | Rating: G | Details: Done using ink pens, alcohol markers, graphite pencils and acrylic paint pens and Photoshop for the background, the jewelry, Gareth's freckles and the sparkles on the dress.

Daylight by @after-the-end-times | Song: Daylight by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 2498 | Rating: M | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Pre-Steddie | Tags: Vampire!Corroded Coffin & Wayne, Canon Divergent, Use of lowercase to show Eddie's blood loss delirium, Eddie needs Steve's blood to recover from the bat attack, Of course Steve willing gives it

born to run by @thisapplepielife | Song: All Too Well by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 1978 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Steddie | CW: Self Isolation, Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, But He's Isolated, And Steve's Having None of It, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Lots of Springsteen References

lies from the tablecloth by @the-unforgivenn | Song: B.Y.O.B by System of a Down | Word Count: 2495 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | CW: lots of laws are broken. pretty much the whole party involved are felons for sure. but it’s easy to overlook | Tags: Future Fic, Post-Season 4, The government is not to be trusted

Untitled by @keaganz | Song: A Work of Art by Ice Nine Kills | Word Count: 2113 | Rating: E | POV: Kurt Kunkle | Relationship(s): Eddie Munson/Kurt Kunkle (Spree 2020) | CW: Omegaverse, Omega Kurt, Alpha Eddie, omega Chrissy, Unreliable Narrator, Drugging, Abduction mentioned, On and off screen murder, Blood, Suggested cum play, Kurt grows a vagina

Look Up at the Storm by @dreamwatch | Song: Welly Boots by The Amazing Devil | Word Count: 2287 | Rating: T | CW: implied/referenced child neglect | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Eddie & Al Munson, Eddie & Wayne Munson | Angst, emotional hurt and a little bit of comfort, flashbacks, Good Uncle Wayne, Eddie needs a hug, S01 setting, Al loves his son he's just not a great father

Prompt: Orange

payback for the good times by @the-unforgivenn | Song: Caramel by Sleep Token | Word Count: 1837 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | CW: angst, hurt/comfort, invasion of privacy, Gareth's a really good bandmate | Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Jeff & Grant, Future Fic, post season 4, everyone lives/no one dies, Rockstar!Eddie Munson

follow me (don't follow me) by @aurescentia | Song: Orange Crush by R.E.M. | Word Count: 2486 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | CW: language, possible emetophobia trigger | Tags: Eddie Munson in a Band, forming the band, Coming of Age, Friendship, Battle of the Bands, Former Corroded Coffin Members, Not Canon Compliant

Prompt: Yellow

Yellow (2) by @mrsjellymunson | Song: The Lemon Song by Led Zeppelin | Word Count: 1.3k | Rating: E | POV: Steve | CW: Angst, hurt, arguing, paranoia, mentions of drugs, sexual content, masturbation (m), ambiguous ending | Tags: Corroded Coffin, on tour, Steddie, established relationship, Eddie Munson is an idiot, Eddie Munson has issues

salad days by @aurescentia | Song: Gold by Spandau Ballet | Word Count: 2475 | Rating: M | POV: Steve | Relationship(s): Tommy Hagan/Eddie Munson (implied everyone has a crush on Steve though) | CW: language, implied sexual content, implied drug dealing | Tags: Eddie Munson in a Band, Implied Sexual Content, Coming of Age, Friendship, Not Canon Compliant, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington (implied), Casual Sex, Drug Dealer Eddie Munson, forming the band

Prompt: Green

Dyed Key Lime Green by @after-the-end-times | Song: the last great american dynasty by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 1234 | Rating: T | POV: Steve | Relationship(s): Established Steddie | Tags: Prank gone wrong in Eddie's ongoing feud with an 80yo neighbor, Dog is dyed green (gonna assume safe dye), Long suffering Steve in dealing with their elder feuds, Dustin's a little shit, Vampire Corroded Coffin, Immortal Steve (adult in 1920s)

paint it green, boy by @the-unforgivenn | Song: John Deere Green by Joe Diffie | Word Count: 2005 | Rating: T | POV: Gareth | Relationship(s): Gareth Emerson x OC!Fem character, Dixie | CW: Eddie Munson is a menace, Gareth Emerson is a dumbass. | Tags: Corroded Coffin circa 1988/89 maybe, some public property defacement, slight angst with a happy ending

he had a marvelous time ruining everything by @thisapplepielife | Song: the last great american dynasty by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 2500 | Rating: T | CW: Previous Loss, Grief, Language | Relationship(s): Steddie, Platonic Stobin, Eddie & Corroded Coffin | Tags: Modern AU, Bisexual Widower Eddie, Bisexual Divorced Steve, Eddie Munson is a Menace, Annoying His Neighbors For Fun

alternate take by @aurescentia | Song: Rhapsody in Green (Alternate Take) by Mort Garson | Word Count: 2491 | Rating: T | CW: language, underage weed smokin' | Tags: Eddie Munson in a Band, Coming of Age, Friendship, Eddie Munson Has a Crush, Underage Smoking, first time smoking weed, Not Canon Compliant

Pleasant Valley Sunday by @dreamwatch | Song: Pleasant Valley Sunday by The Monkees | Word Count: 2494 | Rating: T | CW: mention of car accidents | POV: Steve | Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steddie | Tags: Firefighter Steve Harrington, Corroded Coffin are the best and worst neighbours, little bit of angst for Steve because he deserves a treat, a little bit meta

Stare into this moment (and own it) by @rocknrollsalad | Song: Green Light by Punchline | Word Count: 1675 | Rating: G | Tags: famous corroded coffin, big time famous, the perks and pains of fame, pr relationships, cheating but not really, cranky eddie

Prompt: Blue

my best friend's room by @aurescentia | Song: Blue Light by Mazzy Star | Word Count: 2247 | Rating: T | CW: language || Tags: Coming of Age, Friendship, Eddie Munson Has a Crush, Coming of Age, Coming Out, Confessions

paint the town blue by @thisapplepielife | Song: Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 2249 | Rating: M | POV: Gareth | Relationship(s): Gareth & Corroded Coffin, Gareth/OC | CW: Recreational Alcohol Consumption | Tags: Post S4, Corroded Coffin On The Road, Trying to Make It, When Everything Falls Into Place at Once

Prompt: Indigo

weeping shades of cozened indigo by @the-unforgivenn | Song: The Pot by Tool | Word Count: 1.7k | Rating: T | POV: Hopper | Relationship(s): Eddie Munson & Chief Jim Hopper | CW: Angst, post season 4, Eddie lives and the government pretty much just leaves him to fend for himself | Tags: Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson angst, Post-ST4, Eddie Munson lives, Open-ish Ending

traces of you by @aurescentia | Song: Traces by Anthony Phillips | Word Count: 2495 | Rating: T | CW: language, underage drinkin', someone's a little too inebriated | Tags: Coming of Age, Friendship, Prom Night, Eddie Munson saves drunk Steve Harrington from wilting in the rain

Prompt: Violet

Kiss The Sky by @mrsjellymunson | Song: Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix | Word Count: 850 | Rating: M | Characters: Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson | CW: CW: Drug use (weed), fleeting and vague mention of something stronger, dubcon? (they’re both high af), implied smut | Tags: on tour, love confession, friends to more

keep us warm by @aurescentia | Song: Keep It Warm by Flo & Eddie | Word Count: 2456 | Rating: T | CW: language, mild violence, references to weapons | Tags: Season 4 Rewrite, Fix-It, Coming of Age, Friendship, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, References to guns 'n' stuff, Not Canon Compliant, Background/kinda foreground Steddie

#corrodedcoffinfest: somewhere over the rainbow #masterlist #corrodedcoffinfest #mod post #ccf

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lady-phasma · 10 months ago

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Fangtober 2024

First, all the thanks for @zaldritzosrose for the ideas, help, and beautiful graphics for this event! 💜 Thanks to another lovely moot helped with kinks as well.

This Kinktober event is geared specifically to the Interview with the Vampire fandom and vampires, but we would like to invite any and all fandoms to participate. Even if your fandom doesn't have vampires these prompts work across the board, so you can create vampire content with your characters (or leave out vampires altogether if you want)!

Prompts and guidelines below (MDNI):

WEEK ONE:

Day 1: Blood (i.e. period, knives, etc) Day 2: Body modification Day 3: Ejaculation (cum/squirting) Day 4: Bondage Day 5: Impact Play Day 6: Temperature (cold skin, ice, or fire/sunlight)

WEEK TWO:

Day 7: Sensory Deprivation/Overstim Day 8: Submission Day 9: Dominance Day 10: S&M Day 11: Humiliation Day 12: Worship (body or other) Day 13: Trauma

WEEK THREE:

Day 14: Discipline Day 15: Tears Day 16: Age gap (for our Devil's Minion folks but the age gap can go any direction) Day 17: Hybristophilia (arousal by criminals/delinquents) Day 18: Ownership Day 19: Hypnosis Day 20: Blasphemy

WEEK FOUR:

Day 21: Jealousy (Zelophilia/cuckholding) Day 22: Breeding Day 23: Group sex (Polyiterophilia) Day 24: Chastity Day 25: Predator/Prey Day 26: Fear/Helplessness

WEEK FIVE:

Day 27: Sinning/damnation (Stygiophilia) Day 28: Exhibitionism Day 29: Mechanophilia (arousal by mechanical objects, e.g. mile high club or blenders, microwaves, iykyk) Day 30: Night/Dark Day 31: Cross-dressing

Guidelines:

Minors do not interact! This is an 18+ only event.

Include these tags if you would like to participate: Fangtober 2024, IWTV Fangtober 2024 (IWTV for the Vampire Chronicles or AMC's Interview with the Vampire)

Anything works: fics, art, drabbles, gifs, aesthetics, boards, fanvids, anything you want!

All ships welcome: x reader, canon ships, whatever you want! No ship shaming!

Mix and match prompts if you would like. No real rules to follow here.

Tips: Please use trigger warnings as necessary, but do not include kinks in your tags as they may get hidden from the general tags. This is personal preference, but posts will reach more people if warnings are used instead. MDNI is often better for Tumblr than NSFW as well.

#Fangtober 2024 #IWTV Fangtober 2024 #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts #kinktober #prompt list #interview with the vampire #iwtv #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #fanfiction #x reader #fanfics #fanfic prompts

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fangsandfracturedhearts · 2 years ago

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Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Pairing: Softish Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn Note: It is/will be mentioned Tav is a draconic sorcerer

Rating: Explicit 18+ [Slow Burn]

Setting: Post End-Game Please note: Written before epilogues were added, so may not be congruent with that content

Warnings [more will be added] - expect mature content/read at your own risk.

Blood drinking. Sexual Themes/Tension. Slow Burn. Eventual Explicit Smut. Pining. Suicidal Thoughts. Biting. Violence.

Small Notes:

I am not well-versed in DnD 5e and it's rules as it pertains to this world, so although I'm going to try and keep it as accurate as possible, some aspects may not align or may be completely made up for story reasons.

Mentioned of in-game content that I've made resolve a certain way for this Tav.

Fabricated camp events.

Tav is named in later chapters (15 +), will have her own backstory, which we may explore eventually.

Details of Tav's appearance have been made up, but I've tried to keep details to a minimum so you can imagine your own Tav.

Otherwise, I hope you all enjoy!

Big thank you to everyone who reads and/or comments/follows/likes/reblogs - it truly does make my day to know you're finding some enjoyment in my story :)

Chapter 1: Lost Between Night and Dawn

Chapter 2: Reunion

Chapter 3: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Chapter 4: Little Lamb

Chapter 5: Rebellion

Chapter 6: Dancing with Darkness

Chapter 7: Rogue Desire

Chapter 8: Free Fall

Chapter 9: Beneath the Veil

Chapter 10: Soulbound

Chapter 11: 'Till Death Do Us Part

Chapter 12: Catharsis

Chapter 13: The Fallacy of Power

Chapter 14: Devil's Ploy

Chapter 15: Reclamation

Chapter 16: Riddles

Chapter 17: Unearthed

Chapter 18: Unleashed

Chapter 19: Hark Thy Plea

Chapter 20: I Forgive You

Chapter 21: Preparations

Chapter 22: This is Our Sanctuary

Chapter 23: Way Down We Go

Chapter 24: His Hands Hold My Heart & He Won't Let Go Until It's Scarred

Chapter 25: Darkside

Chapter 26: The Edge of Erasure

Chapter 27: Sin and Shadow

Chapter 28: Blurred Lines

Chapter 29: A Lonely Kind of Love

Chapter 30: A Brand, A Tether

Chapter 31: Ice Meets Fire

Chapter 32: Adrift

Chapter 33: A Breath Between Worlds

Chapter 34: If We Are to Be Lost

Chapter 35: Writ in Flame

AO3 [cross-posted]

If you're interested, I also write a spawn Astarion x Tav fic - Shadows of the Past

I also write a much darker fic for named Durge and AA that I post to A03 exclusively. It's dark, gory, and not about fixing AA but about them becoming an evil power couple if you're interested - Lie to Me

#bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #buldars gate 3 #astarion smut #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #astarion #fangs and fractured hearts #astarion x named tav #astarion x oc #soft ascended astarion #ascended astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #pallidmoon

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spacebabesuki · 6 months ago

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Ok, I know it’s silly, so bear with me, but I’m genuinely over the moon about hitting 500 views and 36 kudos in just one week on my first-ever work on AO3.

I’ve been writing Hellcheer on Brazilian platforms for nearly three years now, and while I somehow ended up with the most-read fic in the category—not because it’s the best (it’s far from that), but simply because I had the luck of being the first to write about Hellcheer there—I’ve always been absolutely terrified of writing in English since it’s not my native language. Honestly, I’ve been toying with the idea of posting on AO3 since 2022, but every time I’d get too scared, convinced it would turn out bad or full of mistakes, so I’d just abandon the thought.

Knowing that people are actually reading it, even now in 2025, with the ship nearly forgotten 😭—and seeing them leave so many thoughtful, kind comments while asking for more of this chaotic, unhinged story—makes me feel so, so grateful and genuinely happy. <3

And I’m so sorry for the emotional mess—I’m just a girl doing something silly that she’s wanted to do for over 3 years but only just now found the courage to try, at not exactly the best time, but yayyyy!

And if you haven’t read it yet, here’s the chaotic mess I’m talking about:

Ah, the summer of 1988... warm winds in the air, the sun burning high, and laughter spilling out of the fun fair. Ice cream dripping down sticky fingers, lollipops melting under the unforgiving heat. Girls in short skirts and cowboy boots, popcorn salt mingling with the sugary pull of candy. Bon Jovi on the radio, beer cans cracking open, milkshakes shared between glossy lips.

It was the kind of summer that felt too perfect to last.

And, well... it didn’t.

A string of brutal murders begins to haunt the town, each victim tied by one thing: they were high school royalty, the so-called "kings" who ruled the halls with arrogance and cruelty. And then there’s Chrissy Cunningham—queen of short skirts, killer smiles, and, apparently, next on the masked murderer’s list.

...

Or basically, it’s a story where he’s the killer, she’s his little victim... or maybe not? Hmm, hard to say. There’s a lot of blood, cowboy boots, and questionable choices.

#hellcheer #eddie munson #eddissy #stranger things #eddie x chrissy #eddie the freak munson #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fic #hellcheer fanart #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer edit #hellcheer moodboard #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson x chrissy cunningham #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #stranger things season 4

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rowdyluv · 1 year ago

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ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀ ʀɪꜱᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴡᴀʀᴅ - ɴɪᴄᴏ ʜɪꜱᴄʜɪᴇʀ ❤︎︎

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Nico is playing in IIHF Men’s World Championship and takes a nasty cut to the face. You are apart of the medical training staff for the Swiss Hockey team and end up treating Nico. But not before you nearly pass out from seeing him with all the blood.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: second person pov, discussion of injury, heavily unedited, probably has terrible grammar, I wrote this while really really sick and it sucks im sorry ill fix it when im better

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ: ʏᴇꜱ/ɴᴏ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Below the cut there is a picture of Nico from when he first got cut and there is visible blood. If you cannot handle seeing blood for whatever reason. I advise to skip right by the top section of the post below the cut.

Watching Nico glide up and down the ice with the puck at his stick or him being ready to receive the puck from a pass is one of the best things to watch. He is the happiest when he’s on the ice. It is even better when he scores or gets the assist. His passion for the game is immeasurable, just the same as his love and care for his teammates, friends, and family.

You first met Nico two years ago when you first started working with the New Jersey Devils as apart of their medical training staff. Having worked in the realm of sports while in school and being surrounded by athletes it was very easy to connect with the team. Quickly connecting with quite a few of the players it was only a matter of time before friendships developed, some closer than others. Nico happened to become your best friend in the program. The two of you entirely inseparable.

When Nico found out he would be playing for the Swiss National Hockey team for the Men’s World Championship, he did some work and got you on as a trainer. He didn’t want to travel Czechia and leave you back in the states. “Neeks, you really didn’t have to do that, I could go work at the college for the summer and be okay.” Nico shook his head and tsked. “Nope. You’re coming with me. Who else is going to tape my wrists just right?” He was scraping the bucket for an excuse. Nico didn’t even tape his wrists. Rolling your eyes you didn’t argue you back. You just nodded and accepted his decision.

ミ★☆彡

“Nico? How are you feeling about today?” You ask sitting on the edge of the bed while he’s pulling his shirt over his head. You have no lie to tell, you’re a little upset he has covered his toned upper body. “It’s just another game sweets. Nothing to be concerned with.” Nico answers as if he is still playing peewee hockey. “I don’t know neeks, I watched highlights from their last game, they play pretty rough.” You retort twisting your hands. Showing your anxiety.

Nico turned around from where he had been looking at you in the mirror to face you directly. “It will be okay. I promise you.” He walked up to you, grabbing ahold of your face softly. He was hoping to calm your nerves. Since arriving in Czechia your friendship had become more hands on, flirtatious, and a tad possessive. “If i felt an ounce of worry about this game, you would be the first to know. My little trainer.” He assures you and places a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s get going, shall we? You’ve got got ankles to tape and I’ve got ankles to break” Nico grins and holds his hand out for you.

You laugh a little at Nico’s attempt at a sports joke and follow him out the door holding on to his hand.

ミ★☆彡

It was deep into the second period when Nico and a defender clashed on the ice.

As an athletic trainer you’re supposed to be able to take on anything that’s thrown at you. But they don’t prepare you for when your best friend is down on the ice bleeding profusely. They don’t prepare you for when your mind reverts to all the other hockey players who had injuries from skates in the facial and neck region and just how badly they turned out.

It wasn’t until the entire bench of Swiss players are screaming your name that you realize Nico is off the ice and heading down the tunnel.

Reaching for your kit and quickly following after the officials that are escorting Nico down the tunnel to catch back up to them so the Slovakian team trainers are not the ones treating him. “I..I got it from here.” You tell the officials. They nod and head back the other way.

“Is it your face? Is it your neck?” You begin to ask him, but that entices him to move the towel. “OH! No you don’t. Keep that there until I have my stuff ready.” “It’s my cheek” he gruffed out.

It is like a million tons just came off your chest with just those few words. The feeling that your heart may stop at any moment has fled. A cut to the cheek, that’s an easy feat. A cut to the throat not so easy. Upon reaching the medical room, you sit him down on the first treatment table available and immediately get to work.

“You scared me neeks.” Taking a moment while getting his cut disinfected and ready for the sutures you tried to tell him but it only came out barely above a whisper. “I know, you didn’t move. You always move. You’re always out there with in seconds. That’s when I knew it was bad.” He gave an awkward chuckle and reached up to touch your forearm. “But it’s okay sweets. Sometimes we get scared. Like right now I’m scared because, this is going to hurt isn’t it?” He asked honestly giving his staple smirk that your swear he learned from Jack . “Well it isn’t going to feel good Neeks, but if you’re good I’ll give you a reward.” You say returning his a smirk.

“Hey Nico, why do you always play so hard?” You ask finishing up his last stitch. “It’s always a risk, but think about the reward i get after.” “A reward? You don’t always get a reward.”

“Oh yeah i do. I play as hard as i do because if im sore i can convince my trainer best friend to treat me. Which means i have her all to myself for just a few moment, I have happy teammates, happy fans.” He flashes a smile before licking his lips and then biting his lower lips. “And if I’m really lucky, one day my reward will be getting my best friend as my girlfriend. I’ve been dropping not so subtle hints this trip but I’m not so sure they’re working.” He’s standing now at the edge of the treatment table, he’s taken ahold of the waist holding you close to him. “Is that a possibility?” He asks dropping his forehead to touch yours. “I think if you asked her she’d say yes.” You blurt out so fast it’s almost embarrassing.

“Sweets, would you reward me by being my girlfriend?” Nico asks never breaking eye contact, his ton of voice so sincere.

“Yes, Neeks.”

ミ★☆彡

I’m sorry this is very rough, very unedited. I’ve been so sick this week. I’m hoping soon I can rework it and make it much better. Writing for Nico has proven to be extremely hard for me. 😩

#nj devils fluff #nj devils fic #nj devils #nico hischier #nico hischier fluff #nico hischier fic #nico hischier blurb #cay writes #nico x reader #nico x yn #nhl writing #nhl fics #nhl fluff #nhl fic #nhl imagine #writeblr

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quinloki · 1 year ago

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Birthday Request Event v2024

Alright let's start off with the primary points:

1 - You do NOT have to give to get.

2 - You do not have to get to give.

3 - Read everything, there's quite a few moving parts =D

Things You Can Do During This Event:

1 - Request a story from me (see the end of the post for the format!)

2 - You can give me a gift! (see "Gifting Quin" below!)

3 - Reblog this post to be entered into a raffle!

Details below the cut!

Raffle Prizes!

-:- 1,000 words of anything you want (within reason) - can be a one-shot, can be a demand for a specific title (make me work on that title you've been dying to read more of). Just has to be One Piece related.

-:- OC Cameo - I'll plunk your OC/self-insert into a story (that is not the Host Club AU ^^; )

-:- I'll draw something for you \o/ I'm not great, but hey, free art xD

Gifting Quin!

❤️ - Pin 5$ to my shirt - it's a local-ish birthday tradition.

❤️ - Share one of my stories and leave a comment \o/ You can do this whenever, but it really makes my day, so have at!

❤️ - Gift me a story, or some art 😳🥰

Ideas (please do NOT send me saucy stuff on anon or if you're under 18):

1 - Draw a scene from any of the stories you've liked! 2 - Draw Quill - by themself, or with you and/or your OC, or a One Piece character \o/ Quill can be a boy, girl, or whatever mix tickles your fancy. Have fun =D 3 - Draw what you see when you think of "Reader" for any given story. 4 - Re-write a scene for a story =O How would you tell me that scene? 5 - Write me a one-shot using the prompts below 😇 6 - Free form a ficlet, drabble, head canon, series of bullet points with ANY anime character and either a "Reader" or Quill =3 Spread your wings beyond One Piece (Wind Breaker, YYH, FMA, MHA, Habin hotel, etc - go wild 🥰)

Feel free to ask me ANYTHING if you're unsure of something

Birthday Bash Requests \o/

Finally, the part you've all been waiting for XD

*** Anon Requests Will be SFW only ***

-:- Give me some reader vibes as applicable (gender/height vibes) -:- Give me a blorbo (or blorbos) - One Piece only please ❤️ -:- Pick something from each of the lists below and then submit your ask! (any items not specified in the ask will be my choice 😇 cause it's my birthday celebration XD )

Pick 1 Vibe: SFW SFW dark SFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW Consensual NSFW dubcon/dark NSFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW noncon Writer's Choice (please include squicks if you pick dark or dub/non con options)

Pick 1 AU: Canon Universe Mafia AU Fantasy AU Cowboy AU Government Mandated Marriage AU Soul Mates AU Modern AU Hallmark AU Mythical Creatures AU Vampire AU Coffee Shop AU A/B/O AU Monster AU (you can say what kind of monster you prefer) BDSM AU Host Club AU Grandline Metro AU (Quicksand, A Light Touch, Heart of Gold, Thrice Prophesized are set in this AU) Writer's Choice (spin that wheel!)

Pick 1 Prompt: Angst / Bad End Aphrodisiac - sex pollen, drugged food, struck by needle, devil fruit Bath/Shower/hotspring Body writing (icing, ink, blood, etc.) Caught in the Act Contractually Obligated Creature x Human Date / First date Dungeon Erotically charged fight Experienced w/virgin Forced Proximity - box, flight, cell, bondage, get-a-long shirt Friend’s hot older sibling Fuck or die Lazy morning sex Long-Term Established Relationship Only One Bed Outside Pliant When Horny Role-play Roughed Up Size Difference (I write this a lot, but I do love it.) Soft/Comfort Sugar daddy/mama The hat rule They were… coworkers/neighbors/etc. Trapped in a Room Trying Again (exes getting back together) Unresolved sexual tension Wounded Writer's Choice

***Requests will be accepted from 6/1 - 7/10 - and posted from 6/1 - 7/31***

Gifts are accepted from 6/1 until whenever \o/ Don't feel pressured to get them in by 7/20 🥰

#birthday request event 2024 #june-july event

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dee-the-bee-barton · 4 months ago

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Raw and Good Quotes, sourced to the best of my ability

"You'll find the universe a very small place when I'm angry with you" - Doctor who

"There is glitter in our veins that will outlast our bones" -Southern man who @.hayleyjclark talked to

"Millions of people lived satisfying, meaningful lives during the fall of the Roman Empire" Jonrog1

"It's ok to start over until you die man" Moodymoodimoode

"Probably 10,000 years ago. Maybe 100,000. The youngest human in a group went to the oldest one and said to the best of their ability "come see." And the adult went." @sanderssutudies

"they're going to bury you three feet deep, because you've only ever been half a man." @nomniacsdream's cat stole their sandwich

"The battlefield was a meadow first if you think about it" Tags from a post

"We no longer dare to imagine better worlds" i_zzzzzz about iced chai

"the structure rots and the plant reclaims. But i remember" @greelin

"Sorry buddy, I'm not god. Create your own hell." @olibavee's salmon shirt

"if i died and went to heaven and found out all my friends were in hell i would spit in god's face so i could join them" @gayarsonist

"I wanted rain and I thought the best way to do that was to make god cry" KilianExperience about his cursed meal.

"god gave me depression because if my ambitions went unchecked i would have bested him in hand to hand combat by age 16" @greimpossibooty

“You are something inhuman to me. you are a changeling. you are a brand wearing ill fitting human skin and i see its skeletal form shift below the surface” ~ mrspider

“The stench of hypocrisy oozes from your every pore” ~ Con O’Neill

“And when we finally kill the gods neither heaven nor hell will be waiting for them because they created those to imprison us” ~malewifecomabt

“The ghosts that inhabit this place are more alive than you’ll ever be” ~ a tag in one of Chickenkeeping’s posts.

“if the grand design is so fragile as to come unraveled by th severing of a single thread then maybe there is a better Destiny for those who hold tha sissors” ~ Grimeclown

“your ancestors would find you incomprehensible and your descendants will despise your grave” ~ Anon message to gayarsonist

“...Better make it count. Better make it hurt. Better kill me in one shot.” ~enodio_

“We rejoice because we are alive tonight, and we do not know what will come tomorrow.” ~ someone in ineed-moresleep’s DnD party.

“The ground is soft and I’m ready to dig” ~radioactivesupersonic

“Live with what makes you comfortable but know ultimately you’re not telling yourself the truth” ~ imanes

“Why would you blame the people reaching for heaven instead of the god that cursed them” ~ Hell-propaganda

“One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled.” ~curseworm

“If god wanted you to live he would not have created me” ~TF2

“The bar was so low it was practically a tripping hazard in Hell, yet here you are, limbo dancing with the devil” ~omnybus

“Children inherit the legacy and trauma of violence from the adults waging war around them.” ~spaceshipoftheseus

“is the gardener who cultivates the vine in no way responsible for the fruit it bears? if I prune the tree and nourish the soil, can the crop be said to spring forth as an act of god? nay, say I, no act of god but an act of ME.” @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses

“ideals are made of gold and light, but human lives are made of blood and tears, and spill with slippery ease; choose carefully what hills to build and die upon” @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses

“I have no memory of happiness, not the slimmest reminder, even the faintest shadow of joy escapes me, slips out the windows and runs away with the wind and I, wretch that I am–I do not give chase. For there is naught left in my heart to spur on the chase.” @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses

"violence for violence is the rule of beasts" Obama from someone's dreams

"to become god is the loneliest achievement of them all" Also Dream obama, twofingerswhiskey's mom's dream

"I beg to differ." "Then bed" An interaction on @bisexualdeanwinchester's blog, or not. I remember seeing it on a dean Winchester blog.

"You’re rearranging deck chairs on the titanic my friend" Justin McElroy

“The Earth is littered with the ruins of empires that believed they were eternal.” Camille Paglia

"Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something." Princess bride

"Can you feel your heart burning? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything that your soul can comprehend. You cannot cure me in any way that matters." The fucking MUSHROOM POST

“Draw a monster. Why is it a monster?” Janice Lee

"A year ago you didn’t know today" Unknown

"the anger in your heart warms you now but will leave you cold in your grave" a dream, an old woman?

"The Man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one“ Justin McElroy

"That's a funny trick to play on god" Also McElroy brothers, I think.

"we deserve a soft epilogue" Fanfic, Steve rogers?

"I am a monument to all your sins." Halo

"Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars you have won" Warrior cats

"Do you think God, too, stays in heaven in fear of what he has created?" Spy kids

"Only when Lions have Historians will Hunters cease to be heroes" Chinua Achebe

"take no shit, do no harm" Unknown

"Before you tell a tale of revenge, dig two graves" Said in many different iterations by many people

"God may judge you but his sins out number your own" @afabbaddel

"I'll do whatever you want" "Then perish" The obama hewwo rp

"If the world choses to be my enemy, I will fight just like I always have" Shadow the hedgehog

"I will face god and walk backwards into hell" Drill

"All knowledge is based on that which we cannot prove. Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog" Mickey mouse comic edit.

"Pick a god and pray" Fire emblem awakening

"The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best is today." Greentext post

"You've got to make a statement. You've got to look inside yourself and say: 'what am I willing to put up with today?'" Erin, game grumps

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here" Shakespere

"you seem in an awful hurry to die" Warrior cats

"Either sonic is a god or could kill god and I do not care is there is a difference" Brian David Gilbert.

"Remember you can't save everyone." "Remember you have to try" Check boxes, I do not know the original posters

"In a hundred years they will cut down a tree with our initials carved into a growth ring and they'll wonder why the wood burns so warm" realaccountyeah, the cut first line is "nice spotify link"

"Was it not a bitch that nursed rome" Seeofreads after getting called a bitch at work.

"Are you prepared for the kind of death you've earned, little man?" Brent spiner to wil weaton in star trek

"...And tell their ghosts we'd have loved them if they were here." @xeansicemane About dinosaurs. I think about this one a lot.

"If no art makes you feel anything, make your own art to feel something" Jenna marbles making a seahorse jacket

"Just try and hunt me, your clown shoes will give you away from 50 yards" "brother you and I hail from the same circus" Anonymous and @firefox-official

"The English have taken enough from this world, I will not let them have my tongue as well." ao3 author's note about english not being their first language.

"I'm going to wake up and do good and so are you and no one gets to vote on that" Travis Mcelroy

"you, mortal beings, are the instruments by which the universe cares. if you choose to care, it cares. and if you don't, then it doesn't." Brennan lee mulligan

"And when we finally kill the gods neither hell nor heaven will be waiting to for them because they created those to imprison us." @malewifecombat, who burned their eggs

"You think I have a choice? I have to be real" jpeg in a Discord screenshot posted by @puyopuyo

"No fate is so immovable that we can not change it" @swords-n-spindles

"Do you remember how we used to run" logicalphathos about a person saying they are his reincarnated dog

"What if I am scared?" "Then do it scared" @yourgothmom and @glowcowboy

"Jingle your bells, little jester. without an audience to care about you, it's the closest you'll get to hearing applause" I saw it as a screenshot of a youtube comment

"Even fate picks its favourites" Megamind

"I don't want to be like this" "So don't be" "it's not that simple" "It really, really is." A comic, I can't find the original poster

"Baby every me is me, we are the mask and the wearer" @eligiblebastard I quote this a lot

"Jesus is my homeboy but God has a lot to answer for and my rebellion will continue until he does so." @hokuto-ju-no-ken

"When god has ceased to answer your prayers, it feels good to distance yourself from heaven" @ailthnight

#god im tired #anyway #quotes #raw quotes #tumblr quotes #i didn't like the one I added to bc it had no sources #More to come eventually

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alpineshift · 4 months ago

Note

thinking hard about jealous jack in these trying times

you are absolutely right, my friend. I am also thinking a lot about Jack in general during these trying times 😔😔😔

offering you a jealous!jack blurb for your enjoyment 🫶

That fuckass podcast host had been flirting with Nico.

Jack knows it, saw right through the act, and he's all the way up in fucking Michigan with his arm in a sling and a soft haze of pain medication that leaves his shoulder throbbing rhythmically in a low-grade pulse.

So there's no way anybody else would've missed it too, with the exception of Nico himself, who so routinely insists on seeing the good side of people to both his benefit and (in Jack's kind opinion) detriment.

Detriment being getting flirted with like crazy while his boyfriend is out of state.

A fourth rewatch of a forty-five minute long youtube clip in the same evening is probably a bit much, but neither Quinn nor Luke are currently around to witness this, so Jack does what he currently do with his limited mobility: seethe.

The only saving grace of that podcast (a cliched roundtable for 'all things sports', whatever the hell that means) is that Timo and Jesper are also featured on it, and Jack could tell by the largely unsubtle looks they shoot each other during the video that they're clocking the incredibly obvious flirting too. It only further fuels his internal rage and jaw-grinding, watching the host talking animatedly with Nico, over-reacting to Nico's little quips, scooting closer and closer somehow and then, just once, putting a hand on Nico's forearm where it was resting on the table and letting his stupid palm linger.

Timo deadass looked into the camera at that exact moment. It's like he could literally sense Jack's blood pressure skyrocketing, and he was right. Forget his injury; Jack might pull something trying to keep himself contained.

To make things worse, Nico had texted him earlier today that he was going to push their usual post-game facetime by a little bit because the host ("Oliver--call me Ollie!") had a ticket to the game and would be popping by afterward to do a quick Instagram live.

"Only by a few minutes, I swear," Nico had said, camera tilted awkwardly towards his face as he struggled to turn down on the hotel bed one-handed. "After that, I'm all yours."

"What, so you're not mine right now?" Jack shot back, eyebrows raised, and watched with an almost grim satisfaction as Nico hastened to walk that back. Good. He's aching and hurting and tired and he misses his boyfriend so damn much--he's allowed to be a bit of a brat right now.

He gets the notification from his burner account when Oliver finally goes live, and when he clicks into it there's already a few hundred people chiming their hellos and comments, no doubt drawn to the livestream by Nico's promised appearance.

And fuck does he look good right now--freshly showered, suited up but forgoing the jacket and the tie, glowing from the win and a little droopy-eyed from the post-game exhaustion. This is one of Jack's favourite versions of Nico, because he's always extra cuddly and satisfied after a good game and a happy win. This is the Nico that will pout and cling to Jack's hands and tug him down onto the bed, insisting on dessert from room service, and extremely open to the many adoring kisses Jack would bestow up on him while they laid together and fed each other ice cream.

So it's figurative salt to the literal healing wound to see another man try to cozy up with Nico like this, the two of them bunched into a small corner of the arena, mostly quiet save for the long-distance sounds of people passing by and cleaning up.

"--and I'm proud of the boys for pulling it together for this win," Nico is saying, smiling wide. "It's refreshing to celebrate goals after tough losses, you know?"

The comments are rolling in with agreements.

u guys were great!

it should be illegal to ever make nico sad 😭

go devils go!

"Aw, thanks guys," Nico smiles, leaning in to read the comments. "We had fun tonight."

"Well, you've been a standout captain from the very start," Oliver gushes. "You're always pushing the guys and keeping the standard in the room, and we can all tell."

"It's a team effort," Nico demures. "I may be the captain but it's a team sport. Everyone's hard work counts, even for those that can't physically make it onto the ice."

Jack's heart twists inside his chest. He knows it hasn't been easy for Nico, with not only himself but Siegs and now Dougie out of the lineup as well.

The comments flicker by with rapid speed.

captainnnn

man, I know these guys are feeling it without hughes

nemec has stepped up but it's clearly rough

who will be nico's designated post-goal hugger now that jack's away? :((

The last comment catches Nico's attention and he laughs softly as he reads it aloud, eyes going fond at the mention of their on-ice celebrations.

"Jack gives the best hugs, that's for sure," Nico says warmly. "I'll have to wait 'till next season, but I'll be looking forward to them again."

"Are you taking applications for the position right now?" Oliver teases, leaning over like he's actually going to hug Nico on camera.

Jack outright snarls. Who the fuck does this dude think he is?

"No, no applications," Nico laughs.

"Really? But how hard can it be to give an awesome hug? I bet I could offer up a good one," Oliver jokes, nudging Nico with his elbow, and Nico blinks twice at him before tilting his head thoughtfully.

"I dunno. I'd have to ask Jack. His arms are magic somehow, even if most people like to talk about his silky mitts."

I want a jack hughes certified hug now!

nico you guys are so cute

wish Jack were here so he could explain his technique!! lolol

It's like a literal lightbulb goes off in his head, and Jack instantly pushes himself upright, or as far up as he can with only one arm anyway.

He exits the livestream, switches out of his burner account, and goes right back to join in again as jackhughes

If he thought the comments were going by quickly before, it's nothing compared to the speed in which the messages pour in as soon as his username crops up under has joined the live! notification.

holy shit jack hughes????

huh!!!!!!

did we just summon him online?

WTF

JACK HI! JACK WE LOVE YOU!

jack you should be resting!!!!

hi from australia! we're 'hughes' fans! LOL

get well soon jack!

There's no way nobody misses the fact that he's online now, and Jack grins snarkily to himself as Oliver's smile drops a milimetr and his eyebrows go up in surprise. Nico, on the other hand, literally lights up and goes to grab the phone from where it's probably standing on a tripod, eyes moving down and rapidly scanning the comments.

"Jack's online?" he asks, sounding to surprised and delighted. "Is that what I'm seeing? You guys aren't trolling me, right?"

Jack laughs, then thumbs across the screen, slower than he'd like with only one hand.

yup. in the flesh, guys.

Nico fucking beams. Oliver frowns, just a small downward twitch of his mouth. The comment section freaks the fuck out.

"They're asking you about your hug technique, Jack," Nico laughs. "And--and something else about our cellies, I can't read it, everyone is talking so quickly."

Inspiration strikes again, a lethally good idea this time, and Jack abandons Instagram entirely, grabs his iPad, and rejoins the live from his other account as he goes to call Nico from his phone instead.

He gets to watch his boyfriend jolt and tug his phone out of his pocket, then grin widely as he holds up the screen to show his contact photo of Jack (a very sappy shot of him lounging on the ground playing with a tiny rescue puppy they'd done photoshoots with) to the camera.

"Should I pick up?" Nico teases. The comment section explodes with variations of YES and OH MY GOD.

"I'm not sure we have time--" Oliver says hesitantly, but Nico is already swiping to answer the call, and a moment later Jack can hear his boyfriend's voice from the other end.

"Jack?"

"Hey," Jack says, grinning widely as he mutes the livestream. "Sharing industry secrets, are we?"

"Of course not," Nico laughs, and Jack's whole chest aches at the sound in ways that is completely unrelated to his busted-up shoulder. "Just bragging about how I'm the special recipient of the best hugs on the planet."

"Special recipient? Try VVIP instead, bud. I don't dish those hugs out to just anyone."

"Well, I feel extra special then," Nico says, and he's smiling so tenderly down at the phone he misses the way Oliver is hovering beside him, unable to get a word in. Jack, watching like a hawk on his iPad, doesn't miss a second of it, and there's a part of him that wonders if he's a bad guy for relishing in the complete and utter derailment of the livestream. Because as far as everything goes, the stream, the chat, and the guest star has totally pivoted to all things Jack.

"Everyone's saying they hope you heal up soon," Nico is saying. "And they're looking forward to seeing you back on the ice and our hugs next season."

"Yeah?" Jack smiles, and it's a little bit of a relief too, to see the complete outpour of positive comments and faith in him. It pushes some of the nastier posts and messages he's seen before aside, filling the tired hollow inside with a small spark of comfort.

"Yeah. But not as much as I'll be looking forward to seeing you," Nico chuckles.

"Speaking of seeing you, aren't you forgetting we've got something scheduled?"

"I did not forget," Nico protests, propping his chin up on his palm. "I had an alarm set on my phone, so I wouldn't have missed it."

ohhh what?? what's on schedule?

you guys schedule phone calls? omfg

too cute wthhhh

"Maybe this is a good spot to wrap up," Nico says, angling his body towards Oliver, but his gaze is largely fixated on the phone screen. Jack can feel himself burning with vengeful satisfaction. "I have to head back to the hotel soon anyway."

"O-Of course," Oliver manages, and he seems to sense that the event has derailed is largely over now, anyway. Good, Jack thinks savagely. You're there behind the scenes as a one-off. I'm there because I actually belong.

"I'll facetime you in a little bit, Jack," Nico says through the phone, voice tinny but filled with warmth. "Make sure your arm is comfortable, okay?"

I love you, is what he means, and the tautness of this shoulders finally ease a fraction as Jack says goodbye to Nico and the chat by extension, drops out from his iPad, and reclines back into the nest of pillows and blankets on his couch.

That was productive.

"You're nuts, you know that?" is what Timo says to him when Nico catches up with him outside of the loading dock. He's got his portion of leftover dinner tucked under one arm, and another bag with a container of chicken pasta under the other. He holds it out to Nico, and Nico takes his share of dinner gratefully.

"What do you mean?"

Timo snorts loudly. "Don't play dumb. Answering Jack's call when you're streaming live with when your host was all but saying how he'd like to be the one hugging you? That was wild, dude."

Nico laughs, but he knows Timo can tell it's got less to do with him actually find the situation funny.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I was just excited to see Jack online. I didn't even know he'd watch the livestream tonight."

"Mhmm," Timo says, side-eyeing him in a way that says I know you're playing dumb but I am not getting between the two of you weirdos. "Whatever you say, man. Want to split an uber?"

"Sure thing," Nico replies.

When they step outside the cool night air drifts around them, and it makes the simmering, displeased energy disperse a little from his body. Maybe it's the upcoming a quick ride back to the hotel after a long evening. Maybe it's the promise of Jack waiting to facetime him in the privacy of his own room.

Nico doesn't know what prompted Jack to join in on the live, but he's glad for the chance to talk to him on camera, to show Oliver what Jack's actually like--the softness and hopefulness in his voice when Nico recounted everyone wishing him well, his fondness for Nico all the time, and the down-to-earthness of him as a person.

Nico won't allow anyone to use his boyfriend for clout or clicks, least of all content-hungry guys like Oliver the Sports Podcaster. He'll get exactly what Nico offers to him, and not a section more. Because unlike Jack, he doesn't belong in the Devils' locker room, isn't an integral part of the team as a whole, isn't the most important person in Nico's life.

That he has to facetime as soon as he locks the door of his hotel room. They've missed each other, after all, and Nico can't wait to talk to his boyfriend again.

#asks #anon #jealous!jack rise againnnnn

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