#GONNA BE CHEWING ON THIS. ALL DAY. GOD. MUCH TO CONSIDER

[crimeronan]

im think sm about the hypothetical in this shitty alt timeline of belos "gifting" luz an amity grimwalker, specifically luz walking up to amity, looking haunted and done and holding a baby that looks scarily similar to amity and just asking "how are you healing up?" when amity has NOT told her abt her injury.

OH GOD.

[la2yn0va]

Streamer Male Reader x Self-Aware HSR part 3(?)

Finally remembered about this series that pretty much blasted me off, so here’s a part 3 to it, where reader is ISEKAI’D into the game.

Warnings: idk, Take your pick

——

Getting insekai’d into a gacha games was NOT on your 2024 bingo card. But then again, nothing that happened this year was on anyone’s bingo card.

But, it was definitely the most exciting part of this year.. yet terrifying. Finding out that everyone KNEW they were in the game and how they worshipped you as the ‘Omni-Aeon’ had scary possibilities.

But to your… extremely limited knowledge, it wasn’t all that crazy of a worship (stay ignorant, trust me)

Being coddled and wanted by everyone and thing was definitely a new experience for you. From wanting you for academic wants, desires to be saved, or for… romantic/sexual wants, EVERYONE wanted a piece of you.

And, seeing how everyone wanted you and your apparent powers were weak due to being away for GOD knows how long… or I guess, YOU knows how long (get it?)

So, to satisfy everyone’s needs, you use your streaming experience, to stream your exploits in learning the HSR universe.

Going planet to planet, learning cultures and history along with factions and philosophy’s, how to fight, playing games tasting foods, and getting protection from certain characters.

But only characters who traverse the universe such as Argenti, Acheron, Boothill, Sparkle. Never taking those who’re bound by responsibilities such as the generals or people in the genius society.

And luckily for you, money rolls in like Typhlosions seeing a minor (I am NOT sorry)

An average billion viewership would do that for you (if you think in this universe you wouldn’t get a billion viewership, your wrong)

Of course, your bodyguard for the day is considered the guest star along with you, inflicting a level of jealousy on the universe never seen before.

M/n: Hey genti, can you get that for me.

Argenti: Without hesitation, my eternal grace~

Viewers begin spamming hate towards Argenti, making M/n sigh, unfortunately used to this negativity. The beautiful knight comes back, getting on his knees and presenting the item his grace had commanded him to bring him.

Argenti: As you requested, my grace.

He carefully brought it up to you, with a gentleness never seen before in history. This item mustn’t be desecrated in any way by his mortal hands.

M/n: Thanks genti. Your always a massive help

He takes the item and pats Argenti, presenting it to the stream and fawning over it and what he learned about it, not noticing the now red skinned Argenti and the seething rage of jealousy from the viewers.

…

M/n: Acheron, can you—

Acheron: Here you are. As you requested.

Acheron already had the spoon in her hand, bringing it and its contents to m/n’s face, preparing to feed him. A blank expression yet having the smallest of smiles on her face.

M/n: Uh… n-no I was gonna ask—

Acheron slowly put the spoon in his mouth, much to his surprise, but she was careful enough to not make him choke.

Acheron: Chew slowly my grace.

She advised, ignoring the messages on your little device. She knew this was what you needed, of course it was. Ignore these… distractions and listen to her.

M/n sighed through his mouth and swallowed the food

M/n: Thanks acheron. Don’t do that again please.

Acheron: Oh… I apologize for my ignorance. I will accept any punishment.

M/n: W-wait I didn’t—

Acheron: Do you wish for my head?

She takes her sword out and you quickly stop her

M/n: NO STOP!! L-LISTEN TO ME ACHERON!!

…

Boothill: What’d you say muddle-fudger!!?

Boothill points his trusty pistol to the head of a vender, who had accidentally mistaken his grace for an impostor. The vender shook uncontrollably fearfully as m/n placed the camera down, coincidentally, aiming it at them, allowing the viewers to see what blasphemy had occurred.

Vender: PLEASE!! I-IM SORRY! TRULY!!

Boothill: Shut your blasphemy spewing fudging mouth—!!

M/n: Boothill stop! It’s fine, really!!

Boothill pauses, looking at m/n for a nice long 3 seconds before reluctantly putting away his gun, and the vender dropped to his knees, forehead buried into the dirty, filthy ground.

Vender: THANK YOU, YOUR GRACE!! THANK YOU FOR BLESSING ME WITH UNDESERVED MERCY!!!

He cried out as m/n awkwardly stated down, not used to this ‘god privilege’

M/n: I-It’s fine… I-I’m gonna go grab my camera

M/n walks off, leaving Boothill and the vender, who fearfully looked up to be met with a disgusted glare from the space cowboy

Boothill: Be grateful MY grace, spared your sub-human forking life!

Vender: I AM!! I AAAMMMM!!

….

Sparkle: Ehe~ you look so much more beautiful with this one my grace~!

Sparkle hands m/n a kitsune mask, softly putting it on the side of his head and showing him off to the stream, who yelled at sparkle to be more careful with the graces divine body, or yelled warning at m/n for handing out with sparkle/a masked fool.

M/n: I’m really digging it! Nice color mixing and it feels nice

Sparkle: Of course! Only the best for you~! Now come! I have a ��special’ outfit for you to try~

M/n: But the camera’s right—

Sparkle takes his hand and yanks him off screen, much to the horror of the viewers

GamerW01F: GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!!

Sampo: STOP HERE MADNESS!!

Aventurine: How much money for @SilverGunman to kill that masked fool?

SilverGunMan: Zero. Forking. Money!

Ninja-Rappa: I’m comin to!

Dr. Ratio: Did you just… censor your own text?

SilverGunMan: Force of habit. Let me do that again.. ZERO FUCKING DOLLARS!!

Caelus/Stelle: 20 POINTS!!

Dr. Ratio: Die.

Meanwhile with sparkle and m/n, the god in mortal shell stares at the three mannequins infront of him. One had a shirt on, another had pants on, and the last one had nothing on.

M/n: Uh… I-I don’t get it—

Sparkle: Let me help you!

She shoved the naked mannequin to m/n, much to his confusion.

M/n: Whaaat am I supposed to—

Sparkle: TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!! PLEASE~!!!

-The End-

Chat did I cook?

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 10

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

A/N: whaaaat? 2 chapters in 2 days? What can I say; everyone's reactions have kept my attention right here (where it belongs!) Thank you all for the incredible feedback! 😍

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: angst, unofficial therapy, previous attempted assault and other violence mentioned briefly (non-descriptively), Jason has trouble with his feelings

wc: 2.1k

Chapter Selection

Jason plopped onto the couch beside me, offering me a plate stacked high with steak, mashed potatoes, and grilled asparagus.

 “Thanks baby! What do you want to watch tonight?”

He hummed softly, considering, and named one of the shows I was introducing him to. I queued up the next episode and tucked my toes under his leg. He chuckled, wrapping a blanket around my feet. “God, you're always cold, aren't you?”

“Just my feet.” I shrugged, eating happily.

We sat quietly together, watching our show while we ate, and I reveled in the casual domesticity of it. Everything felt so right about this… Jason's hand brushed against mine as he took my empty plate and set it on the table for me. His eyes slowly met mine before glancing back down at my lips.

“... Doll?” His voice was barely a whisper. I paused the show, worried I'd miss whatever he said next. “... You said … we would talk about things? … We'd figure this out together, yeah?”

I nodded, leaning forward a bit. “Yeah, is there something you want to talk about?”

Jason nodded slowly, looking down at his lap. “... Yeah, but … I don't know how to say this … it's awkward…”

I nodded slowly, offering him my hand. He shakily took it, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. “Do you … I want … fuck, I should have prepared something…”

His knees came up to his chest as he chewed on his lower lip. Humming softly, I lead his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. “Just breathe, Jay. There's no judgment here, take your time. … Do you think you can give me the topic?”

He shivered a bit, watching me. I took slow, deliberate breaths and he eventually matched his breathing to mine. “... Topic, right … um … intimacy…?”

I nodded, smiling gently, and placed another kiss to his hand. “Good topic; are we talking physical? Emotional? Something else?”

“... Both? … Mostly physical?”

I nodded again. “Ok. … Is this ok?” I gestured to his hand in mine, held against my cheek. He nodded quickly, a nervous look flashing through his eyes.

“Yes! Yes, that's good, I … this isn't a bad thing, I … It's just …”

“An awkward and uncomfortable conversation?” He nodded again. “That’s ok. We can do hard things. … Just to be clear; is there anything we've done already that wasn't good, or that you want to stop doing?”

He shook his head quickly; “no! No, everything has been incredible. I … god, you are so patient, I just …” he took a deep breath, shutting his eyes tightly; “I-wanna-do-more-but-I-don’t-know-how-much-more-exactly-and-I’m-worried-I’m-gonna-mess-it-up!” 

I blinked a bit and giggled softly, stroking his hand gently. “O- ok. I think I caught that. … It sounds like the boundaries of your comfort zone have shifted?” he nodded. “And you'd like to figure out where they are now?” Another nod. “Ok. How would you like to proceed?”

A panicked look crossed his face before he hid against his knees. “... I was … kinda hoping you could tell me how to do this …”

I nodded slowly. “Ok … well, normally I might suggest we just try things and see what works, but-” he whined softly. “I'm guessing you'd rather have some idea of where the lines are before I touch you any more than this?”

He slowly nodded, grumbling into his thighs. “... God, what the fuck is wrong with me???” He groaned, thudding his forehead against his knees. “This is not that hard! Why can't I just-”

I gently squeezed his hand between both of mine. “Jay, no baby. Listen to me; … do you remember that week where you were in Blüdhaven and your phone broke?”

He nodded. “And then we had our first date.”

“Right. And you took me home after. … No rational woman would allow a man she has met once to take her home after a first date. Not in this city. You know why I did? … Because I didn't want to take the bus home in the dark the night after I was almost attacked on my way home from work. I was afraid, and it makes perfect sense that I was afraid. Right?”

He nodded, frowning, and pulled me into a hug. “... I wish I could have done more … I … I'm so sorry…”

My arms wrapped around his shoulders, and one hand made its way into his hair. “I'm ok now. Nothing happened; Red Hood saw to that. … I'm telling you this because if it makes sense that I had trouble taking the bus after that, even though taking the bus is not hard, doesn't it also make sense that you would have trouble with this?”

Jason's arms tightened around me; “... why does it make sense?”

“You’ve said that your childhood was … less than ideal. When a person's key development years are plagued with pain and fear, it makes perfect sense for new situations to be extra scary, even when they know that it's a good new situation. … I know we haven't talked about too many details, but I can guess at some of it, and if any of my guesses are even partially correct then of course this is a lot for you. … We're walking blindly into the dark, of course you don't want to run full speed ahead straight into a wall.”

He chuckled softly, slowly nodding. “... We've just gotta find the light switch?”

“Exactly!” I grinned. “And until we do, we'll inch around the room with our hands held out.”

Jay nodded, hugging me close. “Ok … how do we do that?”

“Well, I have some ideas … they're probably gonna seem really silly though.”

“Silly is fine.”

The paper in my hands was a mess of red and orange. We had printed out some of those body outlines they use in therapy; color coding them to correspond to where we were ok with being touched. Red for no, orange for not yet but I want to get ok with this sooner rather than later, yellow for ask first, and green for yes. Jason took a few home to think about overnight.

I'd come to his place so we could give them to each other. We'd sat on the couch, having tea to settle Jason's nerves before going over them. He went to the bathroom and I got up to throw out my tea bag. I hadn't meant to snoop through his trash; it was just there, crumpled up on top.

I felt him behind me, frozen in the doorway. I slowly turned, looking up at him, and smiled gently. “... Jay?”

He flinched, stepping back toward the bathroom. “... Um … that isn't … I … changed my mind?”

I nodded slowly, holding out my hand for him. He shakily stepped toward me, staring at the floor. We inched toward the couch; Jason's breathing was ragged like he'd been for a long run. “... Jay, can I see the one you were going to give me?”

He slowly looked over at the pristine paper he'd placed face down on the table. After a moment he flipped it over. The head and neck were green, the arms were green, the torso was yellow, the legs were orange, and the crotch was orange. I smoothed out the crumpled paper in my hands, laying them side by side. Green head, green hands, and red everywhere else.

“... Baby? What happened?”

He stared at them, frowning deeply. “... I just changed my mind, princess. Promise.”

“... Jay, … no. … The facts of your life are facts whether I know them or not. You feel the way you feel, whether you tell me about it or not. You don't have to tell me anything you aren't ready to tell me, but I cannot act in your best interest based off of lies. So please, do not lie to try to make me more comfortable. Not ever.”

He clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. “... I … this is where I want to be,” he pointed to the new one. “... But realistically, … I'm probably closer to this…” he moved his hand toward the crumpled one.

I nodded; “... Can I hug you?”

Jason looked over at me and slowly nodded. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, stroking his hair gently. “... Jay, it's ok that you're not where you'd like to be. I will do whatever you need to help you get there. But I can't help if you're pushing past your comfort zone like that. … I don't want to hurt you, baby.”

He sniffled softly, hugging me tight, and we sat like that for a long while. Eventually he pulled back, not looking up at me. “Got another one of those?”

I nodded, kissing his forehead, and found him one of the spares we'd printed. “Want me to give you a few minutes alone?” He nodded slowly, staring at it. “Ok, I'm gonna walk down to the corner store, I'll get us some snacks, and you think about where you realistically are with this. Ok?”

Jason nodded again, gently squeezing my hands as he hesitantly looked up into my eyes; there was so much emotion swirling on his face - fear, and adoration, and a desperate need pooled in his eyes as he whispered; “... I … I love you…”

My heart swelled and cracked open. He looked so delicate, looking up at me like that, and all I wanted was to hold him in my arms and take care of him. I gently cupped his unmarred cheek, remembering how he would flinch when I reached toward the scarred side, and slid my thumb over his soft skin. “I love you too, Jason. With all my heart, I love you.”

His eyes darted across my face, drinking me in. A soft smile slowly slid in place, and I thought that might be hope filling his eyes. He kissed my palm before releasing me, and I leaned back, getting ready to go so he could think about the paper.

Jason texted me when he was done, and I returned to the apartment with several large bags of snack foods and drinks. He looked up at me slowly when I opened the door, smiling weakly. “Hey sweetie, what are you thinking over there?”

“... I really hate this, but it's accurate.”

I nodded, sitting next to him. I laid out the snacks and drinks I'd brought so he could take what he liked. “Can I see it?”

His hand trembled as he passed it to me. Green head - except for a yellow patch on his scarred cheek-, green hands, yellow lower arms, orange upper arms, red from the chest to thighs, yellow calves, green feet. I nodded, smiling softly. “I'm so proud of you, Jay.”

“... You're … what?” he frowned, confused.

“I'm proud of you. Introspection is difficult, but you did it anyway. And now we have something to work with.” He looked flabbergasted, staring at me like I'd grown another head. I chuckled softly and offered him my drawing; significantly more green than his, but I of course had my own ‘no’ ‘no, but maybe soon?’ and ‘ask first’ areas.

Jason looked over mine, nodding a bit. “... So … it looks like this area is green for both of us,” he pointed to the face on my drawing; “... Maybe we could … do something about that?”

I chuckled softly, gently cupping his cheek. “Jay, is that your way of asking without asking if you can kiss me?”

He blushed brightly, looking away a bit. “... If it is?”

“Then you're adorable~”

He slowly looked at my lips again, taking my hand that wasn't on his face and bringing it to his other cheek. I was almost afraid to breathe; he had never let me touch this scar before. Said it was from a particularly bad day, and he didn't really want to talk about it. Now it was under my hand…

Jason's eyes finally met mine, he looked so vulnerable and needy. I took a deep breath, gently stroking his cheeks with my thumbs, and he sighed softly. “... That ok?”

He nodded, whispering; “yeah, that's good … can … can I?”

I nodded. “You saw my colors, you know where you can touch.”

He nodded again, gently cupping my cheeks, and slowly pulled me forward. Our lips barely grazed each other before he stopped; his hands were trembling against me. I gently guided him toward me, pressing a little more firmly into the kiss. He slowly relaxed into it, but continued to let me lead. Eventually I pulled back to breathe, reveling in the soft, whiny moan that poured from his lips as we parted.

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules

[starberry-cupcake]

Welcome back!! I hope you're doing well and, if not, I hope my silly ramblings can make your day somewhat better, like the wildcats used to say: we're all in this together ♥

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

for those of you recently tuning in, this is the tag of all the ramblings

also, I'm officially in the sixth house now, palmolive can't stop me

CHAPTER 46

we're back inside the emperor's bolthole, which is infested

this is what happens when you have a lyctor orgy without the proper protection

gideon is doing her very best to fight the infestation of herald bees swarming and attacking her

she's in harrow's feeble small kitten baby body, so she's dying a lot

I'm gonna try to represent this visually

gideon keeps apologizing to harrow for getting her bits chewed off and her insides pouring out

and puts emphasis on things she wants harrow to remember

"I saw it eat your thumb—these details are important, so keep up with me—and your thumb was back in the next half minute"

"Child, that bee smashed you"

"I touched your intestines, which is usually what, fourth date"

me:

so, gideon takes off harrow's excess bones, which are no use to her, and goes further into the emperor's infested bolthole, where she finds mercygirl

mercygirl thinks gideon is harrow at first and, turns out, she was the one who stabbed her

these lyctors istg

can't trust any of them

mercygirl thinks harrow should be grateful that she stabbed her

and she was aware that harrow had "stuffed the soul of the cavalier in the back of her brain"

NOW WE'RE GONNA GET INTO SOME TERRITORY THAT MAKES ME GO ABSOLUTELY BERSERK, SO BEAR WITH ME

I NEED TO GET MY NOTES BACK FROM MY PREVIOUS RECAPS FOR THIS

she asks what happened with gideon's eyes and, as we have seen in the previous gideon-centric chapter, gideon's eyes are in harrow's face atm, if memory serves

"You're not her—she isn't driving you—but you have her eyes. Why? When they showed me your corpse I didn't think to check the eyes"

"I thought I knew what you were, though I didn't want to believe it..."

now listen, we're starting to tie some loose ends and some of those loose ends are linked very closely to my previous theories

I have been considering the Commander Wake is Gideon's Mom and Has a Personal Connection To Gideon The First and Is The One Connected With The Harrow Notes In Canaan AU for a while now

I need to link the specific recaps where I said this because I need to be transparent about where my brain was at

Evidence A, Evidence B, Evidence C, Evidence D

there's probably more but those are pretty clear

I swear to god if I was right about this I'm gonna screencap my own recap and put it here when the time comes

I've been marinating this one for months

I actually forgot how much of that I had written down in the recaps until I re-read them

mercygirl says that she thought the commander was a bad girl workaholic who put business before family, that she made her "the dolls" and she must have "played silly buggers with the emission" and that "gideon was on her tail"

"And then Gideon ruined everything. Then the commander ruined everything. Then you ruined everything. This could have been over eighteen years ago"

apparently gideon the first was "obsessed" with the commander, which accounts for some of the notes harrow read

I'LL GET BACK TO THAT WHEN WE GET TO THE SLEEPER, MY THEORIES CONTINUE

mercygirl starts calling gideon all sorts of names, including mutant, and keeps being bothered about her eyes

"Lipochrome. Recessive. You are the evidence. He lied to us...and you are all the proof I needed" "Cytherea would have known as soon as she looked at you"

is gideon the first gideon's dad??????? I mean, I always though he might have Something with the mom but my money was on gideon being made through science rather than Traditional Means

I mean, having lyctor genes in some way would account for gideon being a demigod, something I said with those words when I was reading gideon

also, remember when not!dulcinea told gideon she was prettier than the other gideon?? because I've never forgotten

mercygirl confirms that gideon the first was sent to kill gideon's mom

who, according to mercygirl, would have hated to be called a mom

mamá luchona intensifies

all of which aligns with my theory very nicely so far

she calls gideon more names, including "abomination, you heresy, you failed ambition nineteen years too late"

gideon reacts not wanting mercygirl to touch her instinctively

man, my theories are RIGHT THERE to be fully connected I'm BITING THE DESK

but there's no time for any more talk because mercygirl is trying to kill gideon in harrow's body

but she is stopped

she is shot

by not!dulcinea

but I don't think this is not!dulcinea, I previously mentioned her maybe being used by someone, not sure if it's possession or being used or what's going on but I don't think this is her

I thought about gideon the first being the one to do it but if he wanted harrow dead, I'm not sure he'd save gideon now

not!dulcinea says "with a tone that wasn't" hers: "goodbye"

gideon ends the chapter with "what the fuck is going on?"

CHAPTER 47

we're back at canaan au and it's time to perform an exorcism

harrow has a new note

I've been connecting those notes to gideon's mom possibly commander wake (as linked above)

the latest note continues to add to my theory

"end of the line. falling. oxygen can't last the distance and won't redirect power from the payload. instead I will make you watch every moment as I get the last privilege you cannot enjoy you bygone son of a bitch. I hope you're both as sorry as I am."

I still think this is gideon's mom because that's how she died, I mean, she got to the ninth in a suit without air and gideon still had some, allegedly

I've been thinking that one of the two people involved in the situationship triangle described in the notes was gideon the first, and that maybe the other was dr reverend emperor john

he's the most likely to be a bygone son of a bitch, so maybe I'm right

so, if harrow connects the notes with the spirit that's haunting her

and I'm connecting them to gideon's mom....

what if it's her that's haunting harrow?????

I mean, Waker

I NEED TO STOP GETTING INTO THEORY TANGENTS

anyway, all of the ghoulie ghostie friends are getting together for a sleepover exorcism

I didn't use this when I should have, back when the different aus were going by, but here it is

real!dulcinea says "Pal always said I'd be the death of him. And I was..."

he died being a weenie but he's not all the way dead, so it's fine

harrow questions why everyone wants to help her but everyone's totally fine with all this, for different reasons

real!dulcinea is "horny for revenge" (that's a tshirt for the seventh girlies right there)

protozoa is there because duty is his full personality

abby is really grateful to be asked to help (she also really likes tombs, very lara croft of her)

magnus loves his wife

ortus wants a redemption arc and now has a polycule

martita is behaving better than judith

abby asks harrow if there's anything she can remember from the slasher waker sleeper to try to pinpoint who tf it is

there's a suit, blood, a gun and gideon's sword, which is the only thing harrowcita recognizes and doesn't know where it comes from

my money is on gideon's mom, commander wake, probably also the woman in the shuttle poster that harrow saw but didn't recognize back when she met camilla

I'M PUTTING MORE CHIPS IN MY BETS EVEN IF I GET NO MORE INFO RN

harrow is very interested in how abby and magnus make it work as a married couple who are also a necro and a cav

I wonder why she's so interested

anyway, everything goes to shit on the exorcism

like, it goes really, really badly

group project off the rails bad

I mean, they didn't even have blood

apparently the spirit is also tethered to an object out there (the sword??????? possibly?????)

and she (she's a SHE) is pretty much invincible and shooting everyone and performing parkour while she's at it

harrow says camilla would be impressed, which is the highest praise

the sleeper waker slasher potentially gideon's mom (but not sure because it hasn't been confirmed yet) calls harrow by her name, but in a way that sounds like she's never said it before

she says it like a curse, which maybe means she knows, to some degree, how harrow was made????

she's basically doing whatever she wants over here, shooting ghosts, punching ghosts, throwing them around, regenerating, not bleeding, pulling guns out of thin air

I mean, ok, we got it, calm down lady

where was this energy when it was time to kill the emperor

she says there's "no magic" there and that "she's been doing this for years"

she wants harrow, so she can kill her and use her body to "finish it"

WHICH MAYBE MEANS KILLING THE EMPEROR???

OH MAN I DO WANT THAT TO HAPPEN

BUT NOT AT THE COST OF HARROW

also, mrs potentially gideon's mom, even if harrow dies, there's also gideon in the body right now so, it's a bit crowded atm

maybe find another way to kill the emperor

use not!dulcinea instead, if you can get the current tenant to leave

the chapter ends with: "ortus cleared his throat"

MAN, I HOPE HE DROPS SOME POETRY LINES, WE SURELY NEED THAT

and that's it for today!!!!!things are certainly heating up in the emperor's bolthole!!!! see you soon for the next installment, fingers crossed for my theories!!!

[anxiteyandsleep]

I'm so sorry if I made you flustered about the smut question- didn't mean to! 🫢🫣😆

Okay so I'm gonna try and request this: 🙏

Could I please request Thranduil x Male reader who's this tall and buffed tiefling (big horns, long strong tail) who looks scary asf but is actually a total sweetheart? He only looks intimidating bc he's always wearing his armor, covers his face with a cloth/a mask, has dark makeup around his eyes and basically looks like a fricking demon?

He wears a cloth/a mask around his mouth bc he has a big open scar on his cheek (naaah nothing too graphic he just can do this trick with food where when you're facing his healthy side he sticks a carrot into the opening (scar) on the other side and chews without even opening his lips- totally normal- he did it in front of Legolas once and that poor child didn't sleep for a week). He's not ashamed of it, he just doesn't like the stares.

Even tho I'm as old as the first LOTR movie I only just now became a fan and I saw that Thranduil has an injury on his face as well (but hidden) so that got me thinking...

Maybe reader and Thranduil are a couple (reader was treated badly for being a barbarian tiefling -> not by Thranduil <- but proved himself when he saved him) and he then made reader his personal guard, became friends and then lovers.

Thranduil is curious about reader hiding his face but never pushes him to uncover himself (Like why are you hidding yourself from me hmm? Why don't you kiss me? Your other facial features are gorgeous asf, for a tiefling barbarian who rips goblins in half with his bare hands you could even compete with some elves I know-).

One day Thranduil has some issues with his own injury which reader sees and comes to his aid, Thranduil is embarrassed and nearly breaks down, tears fill his eyes bc his love saw his hideous face and is afraid he will leave him (god I'm so bad at romance bro) but reader just chuckles, takes the cloth/mask from his face and shows Thranduil his own injury.

Now they both have scars! They know each other struggles! And they love each other like never before! Happy ending- No but really, angst with fluffy comfort for our two boys and mainly for the elf himself, he needs the love.

Maybe even emotional way back to their shared bedroom by sunset all lovely dovely bc why dafuq not- just Thranduil giggling kicking his feet and twirling his hair as he's princess carried-

Jesus...I got way too into this. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Sorry for it being so long, I honestly don't know how to write short requests...also sorry for any mistakes, english is my second language.

Add something, remove something, it's up to you. You don't even have to write it if you hate it or you're not comfy with it. 😘😘

This is adorable ahhh and dw you didn't make me embarrassed or anything! I may have missed some details, this was written over the course of multiple days with very little sleep😭

I included my head canon that Thranduil is blind in his one eye from the dragon fire, as well as that when low on energy he can't keep the disguise up.

Slight TW for blood, scars and such???

It has been almost a year since you and Thranduil had started dating, you were his personal guard and beloved boyfriend, he adored you so much. He never knew why you hid your face but he didn't pry, especially considering he hides his face in a way too.

Thranduil had always been impressed by you, a strong tiefling with a kind soul, much like a gentle giant. Sure you were rather... Gruesome in battle, using your bare hands to fight and always returning covered in blood and gore. It was truly terrifying but Thranduil loved it, especially after you had saved him from a spider attack.

Today, however, Thranduil was hiding away from his beloved barbarian, tucked away in his room with nothing but a small candle dimly lighting the room. He had overworked himself again, his head was aching and he had no energy left to maintain his disguise, the burnt skin and muscle visible, a sight he despised.

When you heard that Thranduil was taking the day off and locked himself in his room, you grew worried. He's never done that before, usually on his days off he spends them with you, taking a walk through the garden or getting some much needed sleep. So of course you immediately went to check on him, making your way to your shared bedroom.

"Thranduil? Are you alright? I heard the guards say you weren't feeling well and I-" you fell silent as you entered the bedroom, squinting as you adjusted to the dim light but you knew exactly what you saw. You never knew Thranduil had such a scar, it covered the left half of his face and his eye was completely white.

Thranduil had to turn his head completely to actually see you, quickly attempting to cover up the scar but alas, he couldn't manage to use his magic in such a state. He never wanted you to see this side or him, he wanted to keep this horrid scar hidden from you.

"(Name)... What... What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on patrol?" He managed to get out, clearing his throat and doing his best to speak in his usual tone but his voice still sounded shaky. Perhaps if he didn't bring attention to the scar, you would just ignore it as well

"I just got back, my love..." You replied, slowly walking closer to Thranduil, head tilted slightly in curiosity as you examined the scar. When you reached the edge of the bed, you knelt down before him, resting your chin on his legs. "is that from the dragon you faced?"

Thranduil sighed softly, closing his eyes as he couldn't bare to look at you, afraid he'd see disgust in your eyes. "yes...I managed to survive but..." He vaguely gestured to the scar, shaking his head slightly. Thranduil finally opened his eyes again when he felt your strong hands holding his, the touch was so gentle and caring, he just had to see you.

The way you were looking at him surprised him, your eyes were full so of love and admiration, it made his heart swell.

"We kinda match" you hum in a soft whisper, reaching up to remove the mask you always wore and revealing your own scar. You weren't ashamed of it, you mostly hid it for everyone's comfort as the sight of your open cheek often made people uneasy and you hated the looks they'd give you.

it was now Thranduil's turn to stare in awe, one of his delicate hands reaching up to gently trace around the scar, his fingers soft and gentle as always. "hm I suppose we do, my love" he replied softly his hand trailing up to gently trace over your horns, following the pattern and ridges of them.

"forgive me for keeping this from you... I... I do not like people seeing me in such a state but I should've told you" Thranduil apologized, moving his hands back to gently cup your face, being careful to not disturb the scar

You couldn't help but chuckle a little, leaning into his touch while your tail wagged slightly. "there's no need to apologize, I kept a secret from you too"

Thranduil felt as if a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders, the stress slowly melting away as he held you in his hands. "Well now that we both have told the truth, how about we rest?" He whispered sweetly, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss, one you eagerly returned.

Without breaking the kiss, you got off your knees, cradling the back of Thranduils neck with one of your hands. You kicked off your boots, accidentally sending one flying across the room but you didn't care. "a nap sounds good, yeah" you muttered against his lips as you carefully push him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him to continue the kiss.

Thranduil couldn't help but chuckle, pulling back from your lips just enough to talk. "My love, this is not napping ~" he didn't really mind as you continued to pamper him with kisses, his delicate hands reaching up to gently tangle themselves in your hair.

"mm we'll nap after, then"

[27dragons]

Countdown to 2025: Dec 2

This is set in the same AU as my story Over at Stark General. If you haven’t read it, Tony is a pediatrician and Bucky is a social worker and they have five foster children: Bruce, Natalia, Steve, Clint, and Barney. If you HAVE read it, this ficlet is set a year or so after Chapter 2.

Foster Family AU / Marvel - Winteriron / Sweater

Bucky’s eyes felt gritty and sandy from too long staring at the computer monitor, and his shoulders and back ached from being hunched over in his desk chair. He shoved his hand through his hair and squeezed the base of his neck. It didn’t feel as good as when Tony did it, but Tony was stuck at the hospital for another late board meeting, and probably wouldn’t get home until after all the kids were in bed. 

Just a few more files to write up, and he’d be done for the week. He’d handed over the on-call phone to Carol that afternoon, and Tony had promised that after tonight’s meeting, he would be home for three full days.

He’d just pulled the next one in the stack over and flipped open the cover when a tentative knock sounded on the study door.

Thank god, a reprieve. He didn’t even care what it was: Clint needing help with homework, Natalia wanting him to lace up her ballet shoes, Barney angling for a larger allowance, Steve with another note from the teacher... He’d take them all over another minute of casework. Bucky flipped the file closed again and called, “Come in!”

To his surprise, it was Bruce’s unruly mop of hair that peeked around the door as it swung gently open. “Bucky?” Bruce was wrapped in a sweater that was far too big for him.

“Hey, kiddo, come on in.” Bucky pushed his chair back from the desk in case Bruce wanted to climb up into his lap. It had taken Bruce months to be willing to tolerate being touched, much less seek it out, and then he’d spent a couple of years constantly hanging onto either Bucky or Tony whenever they’d let him, which was most of the time. But he’d been easing up on it over the last few months. Bucky was still trying to work out whether it was a sign that their youngest was finally beginning to develop stable attachment dynamics, or if Barney had managed to convince Bruce that wanting affection was only for babies.

Bruce came into the study, but didn’t climb up. Instead, he leaned against Bucky’s leg, picking at a hole in Bucky’s jeans.

“What’s on your mind?” Bucky prodded gently, when it seemed like Bruce wasn’t going to say anything.

Bruce pulled his hands into his sleeves to make sweater paws. “Steve says,” he started, and stalled out before trying again. “Steve says, he says you’re gonna ‘dopt him.”

“That’s the plan, yes,” Bucky agreed. Steve had moved in with them full-time a little over a year ago, when his mother had become too sick to care for him. A month later, they’d taken him on as a foster, when Sarah had passed away. “Now that he’s been with us for a whole year, we asked if that’s something he wanted, and he said yes.”

Bruce chewed on his lip, and this time, Bucky waited him out. “Are. Are you gonna ‘dopt me an’ Nat an’ Clint an’ Barney?”

“We asked Natalia,” Bucky said carefully, “and she said she would rather not. We’ve told her that she can change her mind on that at any time. You and Clint and Barney... are trickier.”

Bruce looked up at him, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “‘Cause we have dads?”

“Yeah. We were able to take you guys out of those situations, to help you be safe, but adoption is more permanent. We can’t adopt you without your dads’ permission, and I don’t really think your dad or Clint and Barney’s dad would be willing to give that to us.” Bucky considered. “If Mr. Barton ends up in jail again, we might be able to convince the government that he’s unfit, and make the offer to Clint and Barney. But I don’t think Barney would want it, anyway.”

Bruce shook his head in agreement. “No,” he said sadly.

“Your father,” Bucky said, picking his way through the minefield of a topic, “hasn’t been quite as bad as Mr. Barton. Not where anyone else could see it.”

Bruce nodded his understanding, sad and far too solemn for a boy of nine.

Bucky wrapped an arm around Bruce’s narrow shoulders. “Adoption is just a legal thing,” he said. “It makes some paperwork stuff easier. It doesn’t have anything to do with how much we love you. For me -- and for Tony, too -- you’re always going to be ours. Officially adopted or not, you’re our kids.”

Bruce nodded, but something in his eyes said he wasn’t entirely convinced. Bucky didn’t know what to do about that, except to keep loving them all. One day, hopefully, he’d get there.

From the other side of the house, Tony’s voice rang out, and pounding feet above their heads announced the imminent arrival of the rest of the family, no doubt accompanied by empty bellies clamoring to be filled.

Bucky took Bruce’s hand and stood up. “Come on, let’s go get some dinner.”

He reached out to turn off the desk lamp, and Bruce said, “Um?”

“Yeah?”

“C’n I... Can I call you Dad? Even if I’m not ‘dopted?”

Bucky pulled his youngest son into a hug, feeling a warmth that probably wasn’t Bruce’s sweater. “Absolutely.”

[3hobbitsinatrenchcoat]

Some initial thoughts:

So after seeing four minor untagged spoilers in the span of an hour yesterday I finally caved and bought Dragon Age Veilguard. I played for almost five hours last night and I have. Opinions (but not the ones you might think).

I'm gonna start this with: I am enjoying myself immensely. This game is objectively fun and the characters are delightful.

So here are my thoughts in no particular order. Given that most of my annoyances so far are personal preference shit... They're minor.

I MISS top-down strategy. That's what made the game fun to me, specifically. The ability wheel is cool and all but it's not what I'm used to. Old man yells at cloud or whatever.

someone in the art department has a thing for Pixar mom dumptruck ass and hips and it SHOWS

I saw someone say you could dive in headfirst and you'd crack your head open if you tried (saying the lore isn't that deep) but quite frankly I'm not finding that to be true. There's quite a bit of lore.

I love all the scattered notes that aren't codex entries.

God the fade is so cool. Lighthouse concept?? Having to unlock rooms??? *chefs kiss*

So far the gameplay seems... A bit remenicent of DA2 with how railroad linear it is. (Derogatory) I'm hoping that changes when I progress further since I'm only a few hours in and Inquisition also took a long time to open up.

I wish they'd gone less smoothened cartoony with the animation. It just kinda looks weird to me. Sorry Bellara your jaw and chin situation is unsettling to me. Also the Pixar dumptruck ass makes another appearance in this point too.

The dumptruck ass isn't a negative btw it's just. So noticible that it's distracting me during cutscenes XD

As much as I miss top down gameplay the ability combo mechanics are LIT. That's so much fun.

I spent almost half an hour in the character creator. Take that for what you will.

I was initially skeptical about only including three choices from DAI as the things that change the story but after seeing what those choices were and the opening parts of the game I can see why. Am I disappointed? A little. But it's a completely different area of the world dealing with their own bullshit a not insignificant number of years later. Whoever is on the throne of ferelden isn't gonna matter when you have fucked up darkspawn crawling into your bed at night.

Speaking of those darkspawn. what the FUCK. THEY'RE SO MUCH MORE TERRIFYING??? WHY ARE THEY GLOWING??

If Varric doesn't talk about hawke at least once I'm gonna chew on bioware's fibre optic cables

That's all I really have on first impressions. I'm gonna sum this up by talking about a different franchise: Assassin's Creed. When they pivoted into open world they lost a lot of what I considered core gameplay. It still had the AC name and was in the same world with the same lore, but I had to learn to love it again.

That feels like what is happening here. The world is the same but the gameplay itself has been changed by time and consumer perception. It's fun but it'll never feel the same way it once did for some people.

And that's ok.

[aerodaltonimperial]

katy i bet the inside of the bus is cold and lonely when all your friends have left and your opponent proved you wrong and you lost your belt in front of ten thousand people and you’re 2800 miles from home

All things considered, Jack didn't actually think the night could get worse until the bus doors slammed open with enough force to rattle the whole damn carriage beneath, and he's midway through tugging a new shirt one, one arm wiggling to find the right spot, so he's been good and thoroughly proven wrong. His heart flies up into his throat as every fear he's harbored for the past two years screams against his ears, but—

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jack demands.

Darby yanks the doors closed again once he's in, breathing hard and smelling of engine grease and burning motor oil, and then he slides around on his knees. "I gotta fucking hide."

"In my fucking bus?" It's a miracle Jack gets the shirt on after that, but his bones are gonna rattle out of his skin. "What do you mean you have to hide?"

Darby scoots back until his shoulders hit the wall. "They fucking came back."

"Who came back?"

Darby's eyes flicker up past the seat, to the windshield, which at this point, is mostly just reflecting the lamps the staff has on in the loading bay. There's really nowhere else to park this rig, 'cause it never fits into any of the spots, so Jack ends up just sort of angling it near where the big mack trucks unload. "Claudio and Pac."

"Why the fuck would I—" Jack stops and leans in, squinting. "Are you bleeding?"

"No one's gonna look for me here."

Jack huffs. "Yeah, 'cause I hate your guts. Claudio and Pac won't—"

"No, I mean no one will," Darby interrupts, drawing his knees in as his skull falls back and clunks against the metal wall. "There's no one here for you. No one's gonna come here."

And that... Jesus, that steals the air right out of Jack's lungs. Sure, Darby isn't even wrong, but it's far different thinking it and having someone put it to words like that, giving it life. He glares at Darby while the onslaught of all the shit he's spent the last hour trying to put to sea crashes into him, a tidal wave.

He must go silent for long enough that Darby notices, because the guy lifts his chin, regarding Jack a few feet away. "You lost tonight. You lost the belt."

"Yeah, well," Jack mumbles, throat thick. "Happens to everyone eventually."

Darby lifts his finger to his mouth, chewing on the skin near his thumbnail. It's red again; they're all painted red. They simmer in silence while outside, Jack catches the sound of footsteps passing near enough to echo. He doesn't even care if the Death Riders throw the back doors open and haul Darby out by his stupid pink coat, but Jack's breath catches anyway, involuntary.

Neither of them so much as twitches as the sound circles, pauses, and then, by some miracle, recedes again. Jack exhales in a somewhat rushed gasp. "What the fuck, Darby. What did you do?"

"Ran into their truck."

"With your face?"

Darby cracks a smile, and it seems genuine. "Ha. No, dumbass, with a car. What kinda fuckin' question is that?"

Jack shrugs. "Well, you hit the bus bumper with your forehead before, so it seemed like a logical jump."

"You hit my forehead with the bumper."

"Semantics." With the footsteps gone—and Jack doesn't even know if it was them or not, though it really doesn't matter—the tension has siphoned out of the interior. He stretches his legs out, wincing. He's gonna bruise the colors of the rainbow in the next few days. Then he sighs, looking at the red smeared across Darby's skin. "You're bleeding."

"Happens when your head bounces off the dashboard," Darby says.

"God, you're a dumb fuck," Jack grumbles, as he pushes up onto all fours and retrieves the first aid kit. There isn't much, but at least he's got antiseptic wipes. "I don't know how social Darwinism hasn't taken you out yet."

He ends up kneeling sort of half over, half across Darby's legs, and the guy doesn't push him off, so Jack thinks it's awkward, but acceptable. There's a lot more blood than he'd thought up close, so Jack gets started trying to clean up the worst of it streaked across Darby's forehead and temple.

"He was wearing his ring gear," Darby says, apropos of nothing.

"Who?"

"Pac."

Jack shakes his head. "So? What does that matter?"

"Everyone else was fully dressed," Darby says. "But Pac came out in his fuckin' ring gear, the little panties. That means he was riding in the truck the whole time, shirtless, with his fuckin' panties on. Just starin' at the god damn road while they all took their sweet ass time getting here, probably listening to some undecipherable German death metal." Darby's hands spread to either side. "Isn't that fuckin' weird?"

Jack can't help it. He fucking laughs, and he can't tell if he's pissed off about it or not. "You think Marina gave him some tittie-twisters in there while he was just chilling shirtless?"

"Dude, she's scarier than that fuckin' One Piece clown," Darby says, dead serious, "and she probably has nipple clamps in that fucking briefcase chained to her wrist."

And then they're both just gone. Giggling like schoolgirls as both of them try to shush the other one, and the only thing Jack can think about is Pac sitting stoicly in the driver's side of the Death Riders truck that Claudio has the AC blasting in while he's freezing his bare tits off. It's ridiculous. It's only funny because it's not actually funny, on account of the Death Riders doing a fantastic job of running through every person in the company who would tell them that ritualistic murder isn't exactly a great idea for boosting ticket sales if all the talent ends up dead, but Jack can't help it. The overwhelm of adrenaline loss and the hollow sensation sweeping through his stomach and the fact that he did think he was gonna be alone all night... it's too damn much.

It takes awhile for Jack to recognize that they're both just sort of staring at each other through it all; they've never really done this, been this close. Oh, sure, they've had their faces pressed against each other when they were trying to maim each other, but it never felt like this. Never... easy. Comfortable, in a way that shouldn't work at all but does.

Jack drops the hand holding the antiseptic wipe onto his thigh, mirth abruptly stolen. "Why'd you come here? I could have turned you right over to them."

"Yeah, but you didn't," Darby says, and runs his tongue along his bottom lip once, then twice. A bit of the blood must have caught there.

"Could still do it," Jack tries. "Could go out right now, call them back. Let 'em destroy you for the damage to their truck and dignity."

Darby leans forward. "Sure." He doesn't sound concerned, and he's leaning forward, and Jack ought to back away. "You could."

Jack lost the TNT belt tonight. He tried to prove a point, and he was wrong, and he lost the belt anyway. There's no one here to commiserate with because the Bucks fucked off without a good-bye and Okada disappeared in his fancy car. Danny is probably already gloating to the roster backstage with the belt in his hands, and Jack's here, in the back of his bus, kissing a guy he swore up and down he hated more than life itself.

He absolutely should not be doing this—shouldn't be prodding Darby's mouth open, shouldn't be slipping his tongue in across the corner, shouldn't be liking the way Darby sighs against him, the way the exhale echoes through his cheeks. But he lets it go for a little while, long enough for his thoughts to go hazy, before he draws back just enough to ask, "How hard did you hit your head?"

"So goddamn hard, man," Darby says, another laugh buried in there. So at least Darby has an excuse for this. Jack? He's gonna have to hope the defense of I'm experiencing what is probably an acute mental health crisis holds weight in court.

"Kissing me is a concussion symptom, I think," he murmurs.

Darby moves in to catch Jack's lip between his teeth. "Probably."

"Honestly, we should probably both go see medical," Jack whispers, because Darby tugging on his lip is doing way more for him than it should, and if he's going to have a full-on nervous breakdown, he thinks he shouldn't be operating any heavy machinery. It comes out muffled, on account of, well, Darby's mouth getting in the way.

"Okay," Darby groans, and clearly they aren't going to be going anywhere near medical, since Darby's hands slide out to find Jack's waist.

[wifeofnatasharomanoff]

The Widows Wife

Warnings: slight toxic marriage/relationship, mention of miscarriage, angst, mention of divorce?

Words: 1,175

A/N: the words like "this" are flashbacks

sooooooooo i really don't write angst that much but idkkk kinda wanted too yk?

hi my darlings, i hope you slept well lately. have you been eating and drinking water properly? i love you all! <3

“I'm so sorry Mrs. Romanoff, the doctors can't detect a heartbeat.” you broke down into tears, “Can– can I contact my wife?” the nurse nods, handing you the hospital phone before leaving the room.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up..” you muttered to yourself, bouncing your leg anxiously. “Hey, you just reached ‘Natasha Romanoff's’ phone, she's not available right now.”

The house was cold and quiet, considering the fact that you put the baby to sleep, the only people awake were you and your eldest child. “Mommy,” the little boy tugs on your shirt, “When is Mama coming home?” you sigh, “I don't know buddy, but she'll be here soon okay?”

“Mommy, when's Mama coming home? Is she gonna miss my birthday?” you pick him up, “I'm sorry baby, Mommy's here though.” he pouts, throwing his little arms around your neck. “Where did Mama even go?” you kiss the side of his head, “She– she's at work baby.”

He climbs onto your lap and rests his head on your shoulder. “I miss her.” you stroke his hair soothingly. “I miss her too sweetie, I miss her too.” to your surprise, you hear the jingle of keys as the front door opens.

“Mama!” he jumps off of your lap and runs over to her. “I missed you's so much! Mommy did too!” she chuckles, ruffling his hair. “She did? How is Mommy hm?” she looks over to your exhausted self, sitting in the living room.

“Bad. She cries a lot Mama.” Natasha furrows her brows in confusion, “Hey.. Alex, did Mommy tell you why she's been crying?” he shakes his head, ‘No.’

“Yelena.” you call out to your sister-in-law. You had just gotten back from the doctors office, you were an emotional wreck. She furrowed her brows, “Y/N? What happened? What's wrong sestra?”

You walk up to her, hugging her tightly. Your fallen tears start to soak up the fabric of her shirt. “The doctors– they couldn't find the baby's heartbeat. I called Natasha but she's not picking up, I need her with me. But she's out on a mission for god knows how long.”

She sighs, looking down at the toddler, “Okay, buddy how about you go to your room and play with your toys yeah? Me and Mommy need to talk okay?” he nods, walking off to his room.

“Detka, what's wrong?” she asks, sitting down next to you. “Everything. Nat, you were gone for 5 months.” her smile fades, “So? I don't understand. What happened?”

Tears prick the corner of your eyes, glossing them over. “The– the baby. They're gone Natasha.” your voice strarts to crack, as you were on the verge of tears.

She gasps softly, bringing her hand to grasp yours. “I'm so sorry baby—” you quickly move your hand away from hers, “Nat I don't want to hear it.” she bites back a response, pulling her hand away.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, thinking about whether or not you should talk about the divorce right now or later.

“You weren't here.. when I needed you the most. I get that you save the world every fucking day, but just the one day I needed you Natasha. You could've called me back, or sent messages from Fury to me.” she frowns, “Baby I'm sorry, you know that I couldn't contact you–”

You nod, “You missed our anniversary. I get it Nat, I really do. You go around and save the world. But I needed you that day, okay? Alex, our little boy was there for me but you couldn't be there.”

You set down the sleeping baby down in her crib, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, watching her stir in her sleep. You look down at your ring finger, toying with your wedding ring. “Nat.. I miss you so much. I just– don't know what to do without you here,” your eyes start to water, “Come back to me.. please.”

Sighing, you thought to your self, is she safe? Is she even alive? You wish you knew what was going on in those dangerous missions, but you didn't.

A tear drops onto your hand, you wipe the rest away as soon as you notice that you were crying. “Mommy are you okay?” the toddler comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You smile, nodding your head. “I'm fine sweetheart. What are you doing awake? Go to sleep Alex.” he shakes his head, ‘No’ getting up on the chair to sit down with you.

“Nuh-uh Mommy. You were crying and they don't look like happy tears.” you kiss his chubby little cheek and gently pinch it, “Okay, you can stay with me if you want to buddy.”

You run your fingers through your hair, “Forget about our anniversary. You weren't even here for Alex's birthday, he couldn't stop asking me about if you were coming home or not. What am I supposed to tell him hm? That his mom can't pick her own happiness for just a few days? That– that she chooses to be a superhero rather than to be there for her kids and wife?” 

Tears start to pool in the red-heads eyes as you continue to go off at her, “What's going to happen when Aliana and Alex get older? They'll realize that you're never picking us over saving the world. Alex is already asking questions about why you're barely home.”

“You didn't tell him why did you?” she asks, looking over at you. You scoff, “Right. Like that matters. Of course I didn't Natasha. We both know he loves you more than me.” she sighs in relief. 

The room got uncomfortably quiet after a few more minutes. “I um– I got the divorce papers.” you say, looking away from your wife. Natasha widens her eyes, she feels as though she had a knife stabbed right through her chest.

“W-What..?” her bottom lip trembles, her eyes clouded over with tears. “Nat this isn't healthy. We can't keep doing this, it's always the same loop. I love you, so much. But I can't keep living like this, neither can the kids.” she blinks back her tears, grabbing onto your hand.

“Please moya lyubov don't, I promise I'll be better.” the same thing every time. It never changes, does it?

Every.

Your first ever fight about her overworking herself, “Detka please I'll change I promise. Don't do this.” you sigh, eyes red and puffy from crying. “Okay.”

Single.

She promised. Didn't she? “Natasha stop. I can't take this anymore.” she kisses you softly, “Y/N I love you. Please don't go.” you look up at her, “Fine.”

Time.

“You do this everytime Natasha. I'll always be here for when you keep that promise. But for now I just can't..” your tears roll down your cheeks, tainting your skin. “I'll sleep in the guest room. But I won't be here when you wake up tomorrow morning.”

That was the last thing you said before leaving her alone with her thoughts, she just sat there with a guilt filled heart.

[jeankirsteinsgirl]

hii you're doing requests?? how about hc/drabbles or whatever about cowboy Jean? 💕💕

of course love!

Cowboy Jean HCs

CW: cowboy jean, country coded, fem reader, slight nsfw, drunk sex, mention of alcohol, MDNI!!

A/N: this will hopefully be the first of many requests i answer because i’m a lot less busy now so i will be answering as many requests as possible!!

- So he acts all tough right

- but he’s down bad for you

- King of wearing jeans allll the time kinda annoying like does he have any other clothes??

- super hot when he’s all dirty from working all day and he’s all sweaty 🤭🤭

- STRONG from working all the time around the farm, can lift super heavy, has super strong hands and arms and don’t get me started on his back muscles

- takes his shirt off when it gets too hot outside for him to be in his flannel and he’s ripped ugh

- Super charming it’s annoying always calling saying “yes ma’am” “baby” “darling”

- never misses the chance to compliment you “looking good in those shorts gorgeous. Put ‘em on just for me?”

- Somehow smells good even though he’s dirty all the time. smells like tobacco and vanilla

- smokes all the time even though you told him it’s bad for him but you can’t lie it’s hot when he takes long drags while staring at you

- such pretty eyes omg. they’re such a contrast from his tough manly cowboy aesthetic

- such pretty brown doe eyes and long lashes that just stare into your soul and the way he looks at you omg

- always insists on picking you up even when you have a car and can drive yourself

- picks you up in his old rusty pick up truck that he got from his dad that’s super loud you can hear it pulling up from a mile away

- keeps his hand on your thigh the whole time he’s driving and rubs little circles into your thigh subconsciously bc he loves touching you

- chivalrous king

- opens every door for you and motions with his hand while he watches you walk through

- refers to you as “his girl” when talking about you to anyone

- loves when you wear his clothes, he thinks it’s so cute watching you walk around in his flannels

- loves when you give his clothes back because they smell like you

- gets flirted with all the time unfortunately. all the girls in your hometown have a huge crush on jean and we’re so mad when he got with you

- but he constantly reassures you you are the only one he wants and he would never even consider being with anyone else

- acts all cocky and confident but is secretly so obsessed with you and would do anything for you

- pays for everything ofc he’s a gentleman and gets upset of you offer to pay bc only pussies let their girls pay for things

- his breath smells soooo good and he tastes good too bc he’s always chewing gum or drinking whiskey

- secretly so romantic and that side of him comes out when you’re hooking up

- would kiss every inch of your body to show how much he loves you and that he thinks you’re the most beautiful person alive

- constant praise and compliments “how you’re so fucking perfect” “my pretty girl” “such a good girl for me aren’t you?”

-still a little cocky in the bedroom bc he’s good and he knows it

- you can feel his muscles flexing under your fingers while you scratch your nails into his back

- biggest dick you’ve ever seen lmao

- a good 7-8 inches but it’s thick

- focuses on your pleasure first ofc

- makes you cum multiple times until he’s satisfied

- stretches you out with his fingers to prepare you for his cock bc he wants you to be able to take all of him

- god his fingers are long and rough with callouses and he hits every spot perfectly he knows exactly how to make you cum for him

- “that’s it baby, does that feel good huh? You gonna cum for me already?” while he kisses all down your body

- drunk sex constantly bc he def likes going to the bar and drinking on his porch

- wants you to sit on his lap while he’s drinking on the porch and gets all pouty and upset of you say no :(

- puts his arm around you anytime you walk around any other guys bc he’s sooooo possessive and needs them to know that you’re his

- make out sessions all the time

- would be like “cmon baby just give me a little kiss” then has you moaning into his mouth for him with his hands all over you

- was super cocky before you were dating, he knew you had a huge crush on him and would use that to his full advantage

- would tease you as much as possible, taking his shirt off in front of you on purpose, running his fingers through his hair, rolling his tongue in his cheek while staring at you, looking you up and down constantly

- heavy sleeper lol and accidentally rolls on top of you all the time

- loves cuddling you and borderline smothering you in his arms

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

wip wednesday

thought i would do this since it's gonna be really hot again over the next few days and heat always makes me super sick (i wouldn't last 5 minutes in avernus lol)

for context it's part of a fic i thought to write since i felt like i didn't fully explore the Raphael-hunts-Tav request i got from a lovely person (and i also wanted to write something dark again since i am not good at it)

welcome to me writing mean and angry raph lol (tbh can't be sure if i will finish this)

thank you laura for labbing raph's dialogue with me ❤️

-

“Why would a power-hungry magelet with a chip on his shoulder abandon decades of ambition for some little bint he found on the roadside, when he could have hundreds – thousands of warm and willing holes to wet his cock with if he becomes a so-called god? Do you think you’re worth that sacrifice? Does Gale think you are? I’m sure he says lots of sweet things when he’s inside you, just as I’m sure he said the same things to Mystra, and we all know how that worked out…”

“Stop,” Tav begged. Sobbed.

“No,” the devil sneered. Utterly merciless. “It’s high time you faced the reality of your actions. You have doomed a future for the githyanki free from tyranny, you have doomed your friends’ chance to escape the emperor’s machinations, and you have doomed yourself, sweet pet, to reap what you sow – all for the sake of a man who rolled over you because you were the first woman in years to say yes. You wanted to enter my house without permission? Then you’ll stay for eternity.”

“You can’t keep me here!”

“I think you’ll find I can, girl,” Raphael rasped, malicious, quiet. His gaze flayed her alive, peeled away layers of skin and muscle to stare at her very soul. “For in this house, in this pocket of Hell, I am the master, and that means I can do whatever I want.”

A sick, bitter pill to swallow: he was right.

“Fine!” Tav laughed maniacally, the futility of the situation driving her to anger. “Fine, you evil bastard! I suppose you’ll have a pet squid soon, then. Have you always wanted one of those? Was it a boyhood dream, if you were a boy once? I hear ink stains are a bitch to get out of silk rugs.” As soon as she said it, Tav wished she had kept her mouth shut. She’d done everything wrong since entering that portal. Everything. Raphael’s shrewd yellow eyes narrowed as he considered something. Tav watched him raise his fingers, ready to snap, with dawning horror; if he did this, she wouldn’t just be stuck with him forever. She would owe him forever. A fate so much worse. “No! Wait! You don’t – I’m sure I won’t transform! It’s different in Hell, right?!”

“I’d rather not take the chance,” Raphael murmured, enjoying this moment of despair. “I’m not too fond of tentacles, you see. And besides…I promised I could be your saviour, didn’t I? Even though you hardly deserve it, but I’m nothing if not magnanimous, after all.”

CLICK. Such a small sound heralding a monumental, irreversible change.

Agony. The likes of which Tav couldn’t comprehend. Her skull splitting apart, bursting from the inside, her brains chewed up and spat out, eyes and teeth and tongue destroyed, sinuses burning…it only lasted for a few brief seconds, maybe, but the next thing she knew she was on her hands and knees. Frothy blood and bile oozed from her nose and mouth. Her body shook violently. Her head felt like it was full of water. She wasn’t sure, but she might have pissed herself a little bit. She stared up at the devil through bleary wet eyes and saw him watching her. Savouring her suffering. Floating in his palm was her tadpole, sluggish and covered in gore. Covered in her brains.

“Hmmm…I suppose I could have used less force for the extraction,” Raphael mused, unapologetic. He squinted at the ugly cosmic horror larva with disdain. “I was lead to believe these things were near-impossible to remove. Clearly not. Such weak magic. That worthless boy still has a lot to learn.” He curled his fingers inward and the tadpole caught fire, writhing and screaming as it died. Rendered to ash. Then he smiled at Tav, placid, almost business-like, as if he hadn’t just up-ended her entire existence. Her suffering had greatly improved his mood. “There we are. Now you won’t have to worry about those lovely guts of yours dissolving any time soon. Not before I get to sample them, at least.”

“I’d rather be a mind flayer,” Tav slurred quietly. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt hollow. Without that tadpole – as awful as it had been – she couldn’t reach her friends or even the emperor to beg for help. She knew they were pragmatic. They’d realise something went wrong and cut their losses. They wouldn’t risk storming this infernal psycho’s little castle to rescue her, not when the elder brain was so unstable and they were so close to vanquishing the Absolute cult, but at least pretending it was an option would’ve given her something to hold onto. 

“And ruin that delightful complexion of yours? Perish the thought.” The devil reached to wrap one big paw around her forearm and tugged her upright. Tav was too weak to pull away. She barely stayed on her feet. The room and everything in it swayed. Until it was forced to stop by his hot clawed hand holding her jaw firm. Raphael’s image swam into focus. He gently turned her head this way and that. He was examining her; examining his new property. “Can’t fault the magelet’s taste. You are a pretty little thing. And now you’re my pretty little thing.”

He pushed his thumb into her mouth. She could taste the sulphur and hellish magic even over the copper sticking to her gums and teeth. She bit him, tried to, but Raphael wasn’t phased. He dug his thumb claw into her tongue instead, pressing until he pierced the muscle, until Tav cried out. Fresh blood welled from the small puncture wound.

“Behave,” the devil simply said, like he was talking to a naughty puppy. 

“Never,” Tav spat. Raphael seemed to like that answer, if the sparkle in his eyes and his rich chuckle were any indication. 

“Oh, you’ll learn, my little mouse. One way or the other.” He dragged his thumb out of her mouth, smearing blood and spit across her lips. His pupils expanded as he looked upon her. He found this arousing, Tav realised, more repulsed than she’d ever been in her life. 

“You make me sick,” she hissed. 

“You have no idea just how sick I could truly make you,” he purred around a sinister smile, “but we have all the time in the world for that, don’t we, pet? Thanks to you, I’ve got a lot more work to do now. Plans to tweak, contingencies to set up, that sort of thing. I don’t expect you to understand, but unfortunately it means I won’t be able to break you in quite yet. But fret not, you shan’t be alone. Haarlep can keep an eye on you until I return.”

[coldflasher]

still thinking about my post from the other day about eobard making barry the flash about a decade earlier, when he's still a teenager, so he'd be easier to manipulate. and then obviously i started thinking about where len would be in this scenario because i'm unwell and i have permanent leonard snart brainrot :)

assuming barry's 13 in this AU and we're sticking with the same age gap, len would be around 30... so then i started thinking about how different the dynamic would be, with a lonely barry who's being increasingly isolated by eobard, right in the thick of the most tumultous time in his relationship with joe, because he's always sneaking off and coming back all busted up and lying his head off and acting all cagey and exploding with temper every five minutes---except while joe thinks he's just a traumatized kid acting out and having a hard time at school, really he's off every night being "trained" by eobard and then being pitted against fully grown adult metas... though i do think i'd make at least some of them the same age as barry if only because imagine the ANGST of barry getting his powers, thinking he finally has one up on his bullies, and then the other kids at school start turning into metas as well.

i'm thinking specifically of tony woodward—all the pain and frustration and humiliation that twenty-five-year-old barry felt facing up against his childhood bully, now with powers... imagine that, except he's still at school, still stuck in the thick of it with this kid who's made his life hell, except now his bully has superpowers, and so any fantasies barry might have had about kicking his ass now he's the flash and is more powerful than any of the kids at school could imagine? well, forget it, because tony's STILL bigger and stronger than him and now he's now kicking barry's ass outside of school too

anyway i'm getting sidetracked. my point is i was thinking about moody teenage barry and an older len who's faced up against the flash, thinking there's a new player in town, only to discover that the flash is some scrawny punk kid with no one in his corner, and all the adults in his life are failing him, ESPECIALLY this creep eobard thawne who's "mentoring" him. len takes a very dim view of anyone who's getting a kid mixed up in the criminal world, considering his own father did it to him, AND he's just getting skeevy vibes off eobard anyway because he's an adult and better equipped to see through eobard's manipulations, unlike barry, who's doing the infuriating teenage thing of thinking he's sooo mature for his age and knows what he's doing and is not gonna listen to anyone who's trying to warn him that this whole thing is super sketchy and he's falling victim to a predator, but unfortunately he's not gonna realize it until he's a decade or so older and his frontal lobe develops---

and so we have this (platonic bc barry's like 13/14, though barry probably has a lil unrequited crush) coldflash dynamic with them kinda being friends bc len's somehow inadvertently ended up a mentor/support system for this fucked up, scrappy, little meta kid because god knows no one else is looking out for him, and anyway here's a small snippet of what my brain's doing (unedited but whatever we're just having fun and god knows i can't start another insane sprawling AU right now as much as i've been violently chewing on this idea all day, soooo)

Barry picked at the splintered wood on the table. “Eobard makes me feel kinda weird sometimes.”

Len watched him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t like the sound of that. “Weird how?”

Barry shrugged his birdlike shoulders.

For a moment, Len focused on the map laid out in front of him, considering his next move. When it came to locks, carefully getting them to open up was his specialty. When it came to people, not so much.

He decided to be blunt. “He touch you?”

Barry’s mouth popped open, outrage and disgust mingling together. “No!” he protested, his voice cracking a little. Immediately, his mouth snapped shut, jaw jutting out mulishly, and he glared at Len. “Not like that.”

Len scrutinized him. He was pretty satisfied it was an honest answer. The kid wasn’t a bad liar, given time to prepare, but he sucked at improv; put him on the spot and he crumbled in seconds.

“He’s just… intense, that’s all. About my powers.”

Somehow Len doubted that was all he was intense about. Clearly something about this Eobard creep was making the kid’s spidey senses tingle, and probably for good reason. Len knew his type—there were plenty like him in prison, doing time for their proclivities. And plenty more on the outside who were better at hiding it. Just because the guy hadn’t put his hands on the kid so far didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about it.

“You thought about talking to someone?” Len asked. “An adult?”

Barry gave him a withering look like only a teenager could, then looked him insolently up and down, like he was missing something very obvious. Len gave him a similarly derisive look right back, one with over a decade of extra power behind it, just to show him how it was done. “I meant an authority figure.”

“You mean like a shrink?” Barry scoffed—which was pretty similar to what Len’s response would have been if anyone had made that suggestion to him. “Pretty sure Joe’s insurance wouldn’t cover another one. And we’d have to go out of state. I’ve seen every shrink in the city and they all think I’m crazy.”

“Your Dad, then.” Not that Len believed a guy who murdered his wife was exactly a stellar role model, and clearly Henry Allen was no stranger to manipulation himself, to have the kid so staunchly convinced he hadn’t done it when it had happened right in front of him—but having a father in prison had its perks. Len’s own father wasn’t exactly father of the year, but even he’d have called in a few favours from Iron Heights if he caught wind of some creep sniffing around his kid, if only on principle.

“I’m not allowed to see him,” Barry muttered.

The dark look in his eye told Len that there was little use in suggesting he told Joe. Clearly, they still weren’t getting along.

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🎃 — 8. Hector

A/N: the way I always had something in the drafts to write for my beloved man like back during the summer time. The universe had other plans and what better time than to revisit this episode on Halloween! I think this is my first time ever writing on the day of this superior season?! Happy Halloween people 🧡 🪄

WARNINGS: language + hints of sexual tension 😅

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: “I love you, I swear I do but we’re not wearing matching costumes.”

₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚

[~October. 2000’s~]

Oh the wonders of being a big time celebrity during the month of Halloween. That’s right, a whole entire month! Which felt like so because you were constantly in the limelight with people not only dissecting your love life but also your roles which consisted of either being the lead scream queen in a thriller series, supporting actress in horror movies, and also being the star drummer (on some Sheila E shit!) and backup singer of a Alt-Pop girl band on the side.

So yes, you stayed busy and were worth talking about.

“Whatever you decide to be this year has to be big. I mean Destiny’s child, Britney Spears, Zac and Vanessa, and Halle Berry are all gonna be here at your party this year.” Your manager/publicist ranted as she paced the floor in your open concept closet.

You’re lounging on your studded chaise lounge chair, texting away on your blackberry while chewing on some gum, half listening, “Halle’s my god-mom, of course she will be here to support but who else is on this list exactly?”

“I invited pretty much everyone, the hottest stars even those who may or may be in your age range. It doesn’t matter! As long as you get good pics that brings fresh press.” Natania voiced as she began flipping through a notepad.

You hum knowing the deal, considering you’ve been in the limelight since you were fourteen so this was not anything entirely new. “I’ve got the perfect outfit for Hector and I.”

Natania glances up from writing, “funny you mention him after I say press.”

“Him has a name and who also happens to be my boyfriend?”

“Don’t remind me,” Natania mutters, “and just to think you could still be with Taylor Lautner right now. His stats are only climbing after ‘Breaking Dawn Part I,’ dropped and I can only imagine how much more attention he’s gonna get.”

Shrugging your shoulders you say, “I’ve got more than enough attention with and without a guy by my side. It was fun while it lasted but as soon as he booked the role for twilight, the distance just grew. It was all only a matter of time.”

At sixteen and seventeen years old you got into a relationship, naturally with who everyone may know as Jacob Black but he was just Taylor to you. You met way back in a martial arts class that your uncle actually taught but you didn’t end up sticking with it thanks to a tv series you booked. You met again not long after at a audition for “Sharkboy and LavaGirl.”

“Well the both of you could have at least faked it for a little!” Natania almost stomped her feet before sighing, “I mean Taylor still talks highly about you although you decided to pick a old paparazzi instead as your new fling.”

“I wouldn’t expect him to say anything less,” you blinked, “wasn’t a bad break up anyway and I don’t pay you to make judgements on who I date. I pay for you to manage my career, not my personal life, sooo mind yours.”

Natania rolled her eyes beneath her glasses, “whatever, you’re right. I’m just saying you could have done better. There’s just something off about him—Hector and not the whole follow people like you around for cash either.”

“Nat!” You hissed, “shut up already, hector’s coming over, he’s gonna be at that party with me and that’s that. When’s the stylist coming over?”

Natania puts on a forced smile and glances at the watch on her wrist, “in about a hour.”

“Great! Hector says he’ll be here in fifteen so that gives us a little down time. You can let yourself out whenever you’re ready.” You state laying back to rest your eyes.

You’ve been up since six thirty this morning doing a extreme workout routine you didn’t like with a trainer who took it too seriously. You were more of a cardio person than juggling ropes, jumping and squatting, and flipping over tires.

Soon the door bell rings and you pry one eye open to see the monitor by the door glowing, making you aware who it could be. Groaning you took your time getting closer to the screen, seeing no one there. Shrugging to yourself, you plopped down on the lounge just as your closet door budged open revealing your stylist and no other than your boyfriend, Hector.

Lounging on your elbows you smile and wave at the two.

“No, please. Don’t get up, I got it.” Your stylist wheeled in a rack while you laughed at the usual sarcasm.

“Hey, baby.” You craned your neck to meet Hector’s lips as he leaned over you in greeting before sitting next to you, “what happened to fifteen minutes?”

Hector laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck, knowing that he was late, “traffic? Even on my bike and Hunger…”

You hum at this.

“Just burgers.” Hector whispers as you shrug your shoulders.

You knew what it was like, actually dating someone in the supernatural world. It could always go one or two ways and of course there were heavy rumors surrounding Hector since he was there at the time of Mazey Day’s death. He should have been dead—especially with the amount of damage done to his body, you knew what he and Bo were up to and the pictures Bo showed you was not something you would forget.

However Hector was meant to live and see it through…and he did with the help of your family.

They got to him first.

That’s right, a long history of, “werewolf or wolf training,” depending on which form. You had more experience with simply wolfs while the higher skilled like your parents and siblings dealt with the werewolf’s. Due to your involvement with the spotlight you didn’t have much time for…family activities but you weren’t completely clueless.

If you were able to get to Mazey Day in time, perhaps things could have been different. No one really knew and some still didnt accept what it was.

Werewolves were fucking real and you so happened to be dating one.

“Soooo,” you drag pushing yourself up once more to face Hector with a tired smile, “I’ve got an idea of what we should be for Halloween.”

“Aw but you didn’t see what Freddie brought yet.”

“Oh it’s in there alright,” you push off the chair to head over to Freddie who has measuring tape draped over his shoulders.

You do the honors of taking the protective cover off the clothes and run your fingers over the various fabrics, “we have DoubleDare contestants from the 90s, or you can be Cupid and I’ll be a large fuzzy heart, or my personal fav: little red riding hood and her werewolf of a grandmother.”

Hector blinks after briefly studying the costumes and says, “I love you, I swear I do but we’re not wearing matching costumes.”

“Uh oh,” Freddie mutters while you frown at the curly haired man.

“And why the hell not? The last option is the best one.”

“I get that one,” Hector replies with a knowing look in his dark eyes, “but don’t you think it’s a little…corny?”

“We’re supposed to be corny! You’re my boyfriend and I’m your girl.” Digging your fists into your hips and peer at Hector who snorts.

“Yeah but—

“At least try it on! I mean if we’re gonna be at my party together shouldn’t we at least match?”

Hector lightly grips your wrist to pull you from Freddie’s ear shot, “it’s gonna be a full moon that night.”

“Even better.”

“For who? Not me.”

“It’s been a year already,” you slip your hand down to squeeze his, “you’re gonna be fine.”

“That’s not what your mom believes.” Hector’s shoulders almost slump, which irritates you, the fact that your mother was always getting into his head was not something foreign to you but when she started to do it to people you cared about, that’s when it became a problem.

“Newsflash, she doesn’t know everything like she claims.”

“I mean I should listen to her since…”

“Since she’s more skilled than me? Ah alright well I get it. Look, I’m not gonna peer pressure you. I just know I wouldn’t have you here if I didn’t think you could handle it. We’d take all the proper precautions a few days before just like I planned but if you really don’t feel comfortable…we’ll just make sure to take the pictures in advance and we’ll go from there.”

Hector studies you then. He knew that it was hard to be around each other sometimes whenever the moon shifted. He was thankful he got another chance at life…sure but life just become a whole lot more difficult now with this new lifestyle and being legit involved with someone in the public eye. No doubt he’s thought about it before but never pictured it happening and Bo also told him it was a bad idea after figuring out that he basically resurrected and could transform into a hairy ass creature!

You lived one way and he lived another, there were contrasts to you just like the sun and the moon, the pair of you worked taking turns to let the other breathe separately. Space was efficient when it came to your relationship but when you were together? That opened up a whole new feeling. A scary one. He wasn’t sure if this relationship would be long term but he had the chance to see you for what you are beyond the lights and that was a treat in itself.

He exhales, lifting a hand to cup the side of your face, “…let’s try these costumes on then.”

And you squeal, hopping into his arms and he holds onto you as you lock your legs around his hips, his beaming smile meeting yours as you peck all along his handsome face.

“We look foolish,” Hector comments as he readjusts the gingham hat on top of his head while you stand side by side in a full length mirror.

You laugh as you wrap your arms around the curly haired man in the floral green nightgown, “correction: we look fine as hell.”

“Fine enough to where I don’t need to spend two hours sitting in a chair having ass cramps and getting wolf prosthetics on?” Hector slips on his circular glasses and peeks over them at your reflection.

Red was certainly your color.

You snort, “you could always let the moon do it’s thing.”

“That’s not even funny.”

Pressing your chin against the back of his shoulder you say, “Wanna give me a little snarl or something?”

Hector sends you a pointed look as you trail one hand up to twist one of his damp curls, “Oh Granny, what pretty curls you have.”

“All the better for you to tug my dear,” Hector begins to play along.

A smirk makes its way onto your red painted lips, “Oh granny, what a beautiful face you have.”

“All the better for you to,” Hector starts before quickly twisting his body to yank you tight against his body, “sit on.”

You see the specs of ember swirling in Hector’s ink eyes now and you know you were pushing it as the length of his nails began to poke at the fabric of your red hood.

He then places a open mouthed kiss to your beating throat, “you didn’t say anything about my teeth.”

Standing up some with your hands locked around his neck now, you lean just a bit closer so that your forehead presses against Hector’s; you reply just as some knocks sounded at your closet door, “Now that’s satire.”

Hector let’s out a small laugh as you untangle yourself from his grasp to get the door, making a show of pointing the makeup artists in his direction only.

With your confidence in him and against the full moon, Hector can’t help but to shrug his shoulders and take a seat peeking at the face he got used to over the years. Somehow even this skin felt different and not just the scars embedded.

He just hoped you were right but knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Well…here’s to a new change of course for Halloween! That might actually be terrifying but as long as he had you on his team, his doubts and speculations from outsiders—which he used to be—didn’t seem to matter as much anymore.

₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚ ✧ ♱‧₊˚. ₊˚

Continue along with my fall anthology prompts here.

[askweisswolf]

WIP Wednesday

So I actually got tagged for this twice! By @gingerbreton and @optiwashere and thank you both so much for it, it made my day. Conveniently for this occasion I also happen to have two WIPS I'm working on right now so I figured why not trot them both out!

This bit's from my John/Shayera chapter fic that I've been working on for... ever, is how it feels at this point, oh my God. Maybe I'll cave and start posting it to AO3 since it's almost done, ANYWAY:

Shayera huffed softly, despite herself. “The green guy?” she asked, and she saw J’onn look at her curiously.  “Most of us call you bird lady.” The crow’s voice was dry. “Fair enough. Did any of you see which way my mate went after the fight?” Now J’onn and Wally were looking at her curiously for that slip, but Shayera ignored them. The truth was, she’d been chewing on a theory ever since she’d come to the realization that John would be trying to hide out, not trying to seek help. All she needed was confirmation, some kind of hint that her theory was right. Looking for the Green Lantern would still be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but if she was right it would at least be a smaller haystack. I’m spending way too much time with Clark lately.

This last bit's from a Shadowheart POV fic I started that's my next piece for my Agatha/Shadowheart stuff! It... does not have a title yet. I'll think of one eventually.

No, she had done the most dangerous thing, the most unforgivable thing.  She had started to hope. That, Shadowheart had noticed. That, she had tried to ignore, had tried to bury, had tried to kill before it even left the womb. Her memories may have been shattered pieces of a mirror at the best of times, but she remembered her teachings. She remembered at least some of her lessons. If she wanted to be a Dark Justiciar, if she truly wanted to be embraced by Lady Shar, she couldn’t let hope take root in her heart. It had happened so gradually, so slowly though that she hadn’t been able to resist it even when she’d tried to. Every time Karlach tried to pull her into a joke or come up with a new nickname, every time Wyll would think up different silly names just to get a reaction from her or tell one of his stories, every time Gale gently batted her away when she tried to peek at what he was cooking for the evening only to let her sneak away with a little piece before dinner anyway, every time Astarion leaned casually into her shoulder and murmured some new gossip into her ear that made her snort, she felt it. Hells, every time she and Lae’zel bickered, even, as their relationship gradually shifted from adversarial to something she would almost consider grudging respect, she felt it.

Gonna tag @the-darkness-does-not-bargain, @ohmypawsandwhiskers, @the-rebel-archivist, @foibles-fables, and @karatam if you want to participate! And of course, anyone who sees this is free to post anything as well. Thank you again for the mentions!

[redstripstrawberry]

1. A Promise | Yandere Oc x Reader | Mason

Warning: Yandere Themes. Includes stalking, obsessive thoughts, kidnapping, drugged reader, mention of torture, amongst other things I know you’ll quite like considering if you still clicked "Keep Reading". 

Summary: You wake up in what seems to be a basement, meeting your self-proclaimed husband.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The stubborn, god-cursing sink is leaky again. Somehow, it always manages to loosen even though you tighten it every other week.

You roll over in your bed. You can fix that when the sun's out.

Clink-clink. Plink. Plink.

Stupid pipe. You're half asleep but that sound is so piercing in the early morning silence.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

You're gonna have to call the landlord. Gosh, but it's still dark out and you’re hurting for money nowadays. Can’t you just take a break, universe?

Plink. Thud. Creak. Plink.

Debating whether to wake up in the morning is a common occurrence for you, but you decide to let yourself rest for now. The problems can wait until the sun rises. Somehow, your body is quite sore from the day before.

Plink. Plink. You turn to your other side. Clink-clink. Plink. Thud. Creak. Plink. Thud. Creak. Plink.

Wait. Sore from doing… what, exactly? And that sound?

A creak of an open door jolts you awake. You sit up immediately, looking in the direction of the sound.

“I was scared for a moment there.” The man chuckles in relief as walks closer, “Thought I put too much, but it seems I was just impatient. Are you sore? You were asleep for quite some time, and the mattress I have down here isn’t quite the best.”

The man walks closer, setting down a tray of what looks to be your breakfast for the day on the table in the middle of the room. You retread to the corner where your bedside touches the wall, the chain on your ankle clinking as it moves with you. Eyes wide as you look at your new ankle chain.

The man sits down at the table and welcomes you to come sit with him. Your eyes dart between the man and your surroundings. Dark brown hair, dark tan skin, green eyes. The room itself was all made of concrete, and there was a small horizontal window near the ceiling. There's another room attached to this one, but you can't make what it's supposed to be under the one light that shines in this room. Is this a basement? You feel his eyes on you.

He continues to speak in a soft, gentle voice.

“Well, it’s not the best, but hopefu—” the man corrects himself with a chuckle, “soon enough, when you get better, you’ll be able to go upstairs and rest in our bed! Much softer, I’d say.”

“Who are you?! Why am I here? What did you do?!” is what you would shout, but his smile is so unnerving that you lose your words.

He inspects you from afar, taking note of your anxiousness. “I’m not going to hurt you, darling. I don't think I'm ever capable of doing so, really."

You try out your luck and ask your first question. “Who are you?” It's more of a demand than a question with how it came out of your mouth.

“Eat first while I talk, why don't you? The drug makes you crazy with hunger," the man chuckles, "I'd know.”

Your adrenaline masks your hunger greatly. You stay put though, the thought of eating something your captor gave you makes you even more anxious.

“It’s not like I poisoned it or anything. Look, I'll even taste it for you.”

He smiles as he chews. You still stay put, still taking in what happened since you woke. It's setting in now, that anxiety and panic.

“Well, to start off,” he says, looking mildly disappointed at the food, but switches his mood as he looks up to you, “I’m Mason. Your husband.”

You looked at him, wide eyed.

Are you going to be a sex slave of his? Is this some kind of sex dungeon? How did you even get here? Didn't you lock the door before you went to bed? You weren't even sure. Tracing back your steps doesn't work when you don't fucking remember anything.

“I just want you to know that I'll treat you well, better than myself, obviously, as my spouse only deserves to be happy," Mason smiles with that creepy, hollow smile. He stands to walk over to you, both hands raised and outreached. He approaches slowly to not startle you even more.

Tears are about to fall from your eyes, and you scream out, “Please, let me go home! I don't want to be with you. I don't even know you," you speak, but the tears make your voice choppy.

Mason approaches the bed, kneeling down, with his eyes softening even more if you haven't noticed it before. You push further into the corner, pushing the comforter with your feet to form a pathetic barrier. The chains clink loudly as you do.

“Honey, please understand me. I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not going to abuse you in any way. We're gonna be a simple, loving couple; because we're meant to be. We're lovers!” Mason fumbles with his words, and hand gestures wildly, trying to appear unthreatening. “Gosh, this isn't going how I expected. We're supposed to celebrate today together, albiet you getting used to your situation. You're with me, there's no need to be afraid, you're safe.”

His reassurance slip in one ear and out the other. You're too scared to understand, he sees. Mason climbs onto the bed, still moving as slowly as he can. But the way his eyes focus on you, unblinking, it feels like he's stalking you down. The smile doesn't make it any better.

“The police are gonna find me and jail you if you do this. Please just let me go,” Your begging is more forceful. “Please. I w-won't tell a-anyone.” You're full-on crying now.

“The police aren't gonna do anything, because I took care of it; in the same manner that I'm going to take care of you: devotedly careful. You're just confused right now because it's a new thing you need to get used to and understand, dearest.”

Like you, your words go in his ear and out the other. You jump forward to push him away, trying to make your way to the door. Mason grabs you tightly, pulling you towards his chest. You fight against him, sobbing, but he restrains you easily. You're exhausted, too hungry, and too emotionally drained to fight back. All you could do is measly push him back. The drug still has its grip on you.

Mason hugs you tight like he's squeezing you. “I know you're very confused right now, and you don't know what's going on, but I need you to know this,” he pets your hair, “you're being manipulated, by everyone close to you. Your friends, your coworkers, and even your DAMN family. Their manipulation conditioned you so much, you don't even realize how much they've hurt you.”

He continues to try to comfort you while you're in his lap. Kissing your forehead, petting your hair, and holding you tightly so you can't get away. The physical affection Mason gives you makes you cry harder. You can't accept this to be happening.

“But don't worry about them, darling. I've taken care of them too. They've hurt as much as they've hurt you.” He nuzzles your head. The sound of exhausted weeping fills the basement-like room.

“They don't deserve the mercy of such a caring angel such as yourself, so I tried my hardest to make them suffer. Obviously, I let them live so they can feel the pain of losing you, amongst other things."

You don't know if you're grateful Mason didn't kill anyone or furious that he hurt them.

“We don't need to think about those people anymore, though. We don't need to care about your career, or making enough money for rent. We can focus on what's REALLY important, me and you."

Locking you in with his legs, Mason rubs his thumbs under your eyes, but it's a pointless gesture. You push his hands away, more tears flowing down your cheeks. He goes back to smoothing down your hair, albeit now with some stronger restraint on your fighting body.

"I can focus on you. I'll protect us from all of them. Every single one. No one will hurt you like the world has done to you. Not when you have me. We will get through this, my love. It'll be ok.”

You shout out, “Please, I just want to go home. Let me go, you're fucking psychotic!” Your fight is coming back, trying to hit, claw, bite your way out of his grip. The bleeding of his wounds doesn't deter him away from you for a second. He's just too strong, too much of a manic to care.

“You are home, first of all, and I know the basement sucks but I'll let you go once you're better. It's a promise, darling. You'll be able to walk inside the house, cook your delicious food, and do all sorts of things.”

As fast as your fight began, it diminished as quickly. The adrenaline wore off as he subdued you even tighter. You couldn't even move a limb, much less than a finger. He gives your head a kiss.

“But for now, I'll feed you. I'll wash you. I'll take you to the bathroom. I'll do everything you could ever need. Now, and forevermore.”

Mason cups your cheek in his hand and directs you to face him. With your red, teary eyes, you gaze into his. His piercing stare makes you worry about what's to come.

“It's a promise, my love."

Nothing he says comforted you in the slightest. It feels too much like a bad dream. But the pain of his hug and the redness of your chained ankle says otherwise. Mason sensed you calmed down, lessening his grip ever so slightly. You try once more, and with all your strength, you push yourself out of his grasp.

Running, but still wobbly from the aftermath of the drugs, you make your way to the table, knocking down chairs to slow him down, and trying to reach the door. Of course, you don't make it. You fall almost immediately after feeling a stab behind your thigh.

Mason injects a clear liquid from the syringe he embedded in you, and you fall into his arms. He puts the empty syringe back in his pocket. It's getting dark pretty quick.

"Until you get better, I'll take care of us. I'll take care of everything."

[rewordthis]

The struggles of art, are not for everyone.

It’s really not, indeed.

You have to like the process first and foremost.

If when putting the tip of the pencil down onto paper your main thoughts are how you’re bad, how you won’t have any progress, or hope you’ll be as good as those famous artists you follow on here or Twitter, then you’re really doing it wrong.

I’ve been drawing for forever and I still don’t seem to make anything better than before but having an old drawing around always puts things into perspective. I draw because it gives me peace of mind. If it just gives you anxiety then sure, it’s not for you.

And in the end, what I love the most about it is the sensation of my pencil-tip scratching that blank void that a sheet of paper is. Not the prospect of earning likes, a following, or money from it. I have tons of art that’ll never see the light of day for many reasons, that I’m so hang up on the fact that I made it. I was in my best condition when I made those pieces, in the right headspace, I was whole. The muses guided my hands these times, God smiled down on me.

What can I say? I’m a girl of simple things.

But the whole debate about whether AI is a medium for creation or easy theft, has soured my mood.

I do NOT consider AI art when its main ‘reference’ is straight up stealing and plagiarising someone’s sweat and tears. Before feeding it your favourite artist’s (or writer’s) work to mince and chew it up like it’s nothing in order to vomit a halfassed attempt at creation on your part remember this, the artists and writers the works of you used, are real people. They breathe, they eat, they cry. They pour TIME into their works. Time that you do NOT respect. They put feelings into their works. Feelings that you do NOT respect. For some of them, it’s also their main income. Income that you DEVALUE by stealing what is considered a unique trait of their trade!

You will NEVER learn anything nor get better at anything other than stealing that way. Because you haven’t known the value of hard work. The value of putting a chip of your soul into what you make. The value of living inside every work you’ve ever CREATED. You never lost sleep, food, or a piece of your sanity trying to make something from scratch. Trying to make it work. Trying to give birth to something unique.

What pitiful existences really, are those who can’t value someone else’s soul enough to respect it…

Anyway… this is getting heavy for me so I’m not going to rant over this anymore. I just want to say that I’m going to release some basic everyday steps for those who really want to learn drawing to follow on their own. Art takes time. Great writing takes time. It also takes for someone to be happy each time for what they were capable of creating.

That said, let me be clear that these mini exercises aren’t gonna clinch you a job at mappa, nor are they going to teach you proportions or whatever else those tutorials promise you, they’re specific to making you understand how 3D and observation works in order for you to be able to pick the elements you need every time you make a new piece. That’s all!

Progress isn’t jumping from 3yo art to fucking Rembrandt. It’ll suck ass before it even looks remotely decent!

Make sure to have that☝️printed and posted on your wall. That’s an order! *flexes whip*

Ok, I’m kidding, but seriously that’s your only motto from now on if you want to get better.

And now let’s prepare the ground for your exercises.

What you’ll need first is either a normal pencil or a 2mm one. No 0,5’s or whatever… in general NO mechanical pencils. Personally I’d recommend starting with a wooden pencil, though.

A good eraser that doesn’t smudge. It doesn’t matter what colour or brand as long as it erases the graphite well and without too much mess. Remember, NO SMUGES! *Forgot to say, a charcoal eraser will be a good friend, if it’s affordable. (Sorry for forgetting that.)

Now, hardness:

Find your typical hand writing pressure in the table below.

Generally the harder you press, the more difficult to erase. So bigger pressure (aka black marks, scratches etc) is 5.

5 4 3 2 1

2H H HB B 2B

How it works:

If you’re 3 you’ll need:

H: tracing

HB: outline

2B: shading

If you’re a 5 you’ll need:

2H: tracing

H or HB: outline

B: shading

If you’re 1 you’ll need:

HB: tracing

HB or B: outline

2B: shading

If you are 2 or 4 you’ll have to go through trial and error. Sorry. Just keep in mind that depending on where you lean; extremes or average (3), you follow the guidelines above.

For example, I am a hard 5 (if not 5,5 lol) so at some point I resorted working with just 2H and HB. I only ever use B when I need something to be black— which admittedly happens rarely. It’s only a few times you’ll need to depict actual black.

> You generally need a tracing pencil that won’t leave too dark visible marks behind when erased. People 5 and 4 will have to be a little careful though and not scratch the paper but that will come with practice.

> Your outline has to be enough to ‘stain’ the paper so you won’t lose your main sketch. It’s also correction time. Yey!

> Your shading shouldn’t smudge because you’re going to use layers. Yes. Even in traditional art you darken in layers, typically in as light moves as possible and in varying angles until you get the shade you want but that’s for later.

I personally don’t have any specific papers to propose to you (bitch you’re using basic photo-printing A4 papers wth lol). You’ll just need a hard surface, especially my 5 and 4 palls.

Ok, that’s it for today, folks.

Let me also slap a disclaimer here: I am NOT a professional art tutor. I just love art. 🤗