#I wish these two bountiful interactions love these sillies

[dogerbooger]

Hi! Could you maybe do Etho and Gem? (platonic of course) They’re my absolute favorite duo.

I love this duo so much! Seeing them interact is such a joy. Thank you for the ask, have Gem and Etho trying to flex and Gem (totally not on purpose) hitting him in the face lmao

[intervalart]

I absolutely love your art of Sundown, he’s one of my favorites (next to Akira) 🙂 honestly he’s hilarious in the Dominion of Hate, he’ll literally fight Akira for no reason, he’s got this “tired single dad handling 6 kids” energy to him, and he even like…scolds Oersted? It sounded like? (His voice actor, Reagan Murdock, played Aki Hayakawa in this anime called Chainsaw Man, so i guess he has experience with voicing a guy who needs to wrangle teenagers 😅) do you happen to have any hcs for him?

I'M SO SORRY IT'S TAKING ME SO LONG TO GET TO THESE ASKS, i'm packing to move, so that's taking up most of my time and energy ;;;v;;;

BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH WAAAAAAA, I'm glad you like how I draw the schüt man <333 (who has somehow accidentally become The Muse, whoops lol)

Sadly there are currently no in-game dialogues showing how he interacts with the other party members (party banter like octopath is a common DLC request), but Mad Dog has a line about Sundown "being bad with the little ones", which is either Mad Dog's interpretation based on what he wants to see, or Sundown's stoicism and bluntness really does tend intimidate the kids. (I don't watch CSM so I will take your work for it... But I'm sure Mr. Murdock does a great job! He has a great voice for it...)

But from what we do know for sure (from his recruitment quest and his dialogue to Sin when out of the party of the final 4) is he is very tired, and wants nothing to do with you.

tbh that's part of the reason I'm fascinated with him, is in a whole party full of spunky/quirky anime youngsters who have Psychic powers, martial arts, laser canons, ninja powers, etc. (the oldest being Masaru who's usually hc'd at 25 years old for the meme).... there's just. A guy. Maybe late 30s/early 40s. With a gun.

People joke about Masaru being the Straight Man (which is true to some extent), but I feel like he handles the weirdness a bit better than Sundown does, just on account of his adaptable nature. If Mad Dog's reaction to O. Dio's true form was any indication, supernatural stuff is... Not normal for their time period. So I think Sundown is much more the Straight Man in the DoH just cuz he stands out so much from everyone else. (not that he isn't silly in his own way... he's based on Clint Eastwood ffs lol)

...and I wrote all of this text without even getting to my headcanons, so if that isn't any a warning for how much I can ramble about him at length, then let this cut should tell you. (you asked, sorry not sorry lol)

So warning in advance, there's gonna be a teeny bit of overlap with Mad Dog hcs on some of these because of how much the two intertwine with each other. They kinda come as a package deal.

Some of my hcs you've probably seen in this comic. Most notably; not just the survivor's guilt, but also in the panic of the raid on the town and the flurry of using the Hurricane Shot, he's not entirely sure if he only shot the invading bandits. :( He worried he might have gotten some townsfolk in there too. (Mostly illustrated on pages 5-6 when all the figures kinda blend together)

At the time I made the comic I thought it was just a theory that he'd placed the bounty on himself, I somehow missed the fact that it was canon. But the fact that it is canon definitely drives home both the survivor's guilt, and him fearing death despite having a death wish. (There's much easier ways to off yourself homie, you don't gotta have a bizarre death ritual with randos obsessed with fame and glory... </3)

On the earlier topic, he might not so much be bad with kids, as he is... blunt. He doesn't sugar coat stuff, and he's probably very hands-off. If he really was the respected sheriff of [Unnamed Town], he probably had some experience with kids in the past, but I suspect between the trauma and some degree of wanting to keep everyone else safe, he's cold and aloof on purpose. He was probably more sociable before The Incident. (Much like a certain blond knight)

But he does work well with others in the DoH and is brief but polite to everyone, even the younger characters. (I cry every time he says "thanks" or "sorry" when another party member heals him... TT0TT)

All that aside, some of the more domestic hcs:

• I think Sunny is very skilled at sewing!! Living out in the wilds and not having access to new clothes very often/if at all means he had to get good at repairing his own clothes. And between sleeping out under the stars and the bullet holes, he has plenty of practice... (MD called him girly for it once, and with a completely straight face, Sunny said "Why do you think being self-sufficient is inherently feminine...?". MD never mentioned it again.)

• The trade-off however is that he's... Not an amazing cook. Everything is either eaten raw or roasted over a fire, and he doesn't have a ton of access to spices and herbs in the wilds... Very utilitarian in his cooking methods.

• That ties into the next point; the dude's got a cast iron stomach. If the guy can canonically down an infinite number of glasses of milk (LONG after most adults develop lactose intolerance), the guy can eat pretty much anything. Including whatever rattlesnakes (and cactus) he found to eat.

• This is actually canon, but he does know Spanish. If not fluently, at least enough to understand it but not speak it. (I hc him as fluent though.)

• Sunny is probably a very skilled dancer! If for no other reason other than dodging bullets for years lmao. MD catches a glimpse once. Sunny looks him dead in the eyes and says "No one will ever believe you."

• I've already discussed this, but Sunny probably used to be left-handed, and either due to societal necessity or an injury, he became ambidextrous!

• Now that I'm thinking about it actually, I drew Young Sundown in the comic with much less facial hair to just make him look younger... But it actually makes sense that between the depression (and possibly self loathing), he kinda uses the facial hair as like... A mask? Like, so he doesn't have to see himself in a way? (I might be reading too much into it, the OG art does show he shapes his scruff and it's not completely unkempt, so maybe it started as Depression Scruff, and he just shaves it as best he can with a knife lol)

• I used to hc that he didn't name his horse because he didn't want to get attached. (He just calls it Horse) But after talking to another Really Cool Wild West Artist in the JP fandom, it's not impossible that he could have had the same horse the entire time... So that's not a hill I need to die on lol.

• For obvious reasons, he's a hard guy to get to laugh. If he does, it's usually wry and understated. But on the rare occasion he does genuinely laugh, he's more inclined to stifle it at first, more out of habit than anything else. It takes a lot to get him rolling in the aisles.

...But that's getting into BBFF territory, which is a whole 'nuther post, and definitely not something I have rambled about at length and stored on a hidden discord server.

AND that's not talking about my Mad Dog hcs......

-gripping you anon- Do you see why I am in hell.

[mandoclan]

COURAGE // Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x F!Reader

A/N: I just really love Din, and this is possibly the easiest thing I’ve ever written. This is my take on a “5 times Din realized he loved me and the one time he did something about it.” Set about two months after saving the kid (middle of season 1). In my mind, it took over a year for Din to return Grogu to his kind.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and blood and a wound (you get shot), major fluff, conflicting feelings, marriage talk.

The first time Din realized he loved you, he froze. The sight of you with the sleeping kid strapped to your chest while you asked a trader in the market questions about your cooking arrangements on the Razor Crest warmed him. He overheard you asking about ingredients and cooking methods and snacks for the kid and even for him and his heart almost burst.

“Thank the maker for this helmet,” Din muttered as he watched you. He’d just settled the bill with another trader for some extra blankets and clothing for you, knowing you’d been nicking his tunics when you thought he wasn’t looking. He knew you didn’t have much from the planet he picked you up on, and hoped this would be helpful even if he couldn’t deny that the sight of you in his well-worn clothes was something he could get used to.

“Mando!” You called, breaking him from his concentration. “Are you ready to go? I got the supplies you asked for, but they’re a bit heavy and I don’t want to squash him.” You gestured to the kid, asleep and drooling on your shirt. You didn’t seem to mind though, and Mando found himself smiling at the sight, fingers gently rubbing the kid’s big, green ears. He babbled a bit in his sleep and you smiled down at his adopted son.

“I’ll grab the crate. Meet me back on the ship, okay?”

“Perfect. Thank you!” you pressed a kiss to his helmet where his cheek should be and walked away, murmuring to the kid as you did.

“Your dad’s gonna get the big heavy crate and then you can have some cookies later, you silly little womp rat. Your buir spoils you.”

He couldn’t deny it, he loved when you spoke mando’a, or at least the few words he’d taught you. Din shook his head, his cheeks heated as he picked up the crate and followed along behind you.

The second time Din realized he loved you, he smiled.

He’d been on a hunt for three days, one of his quarries giving him more trouble than he had expected. He’d come back to the ship to find you’d cleaned everything, put the kid to sleep, and even made up his sleeping area. He suspected you’d been cooking too, judging by the smell.

He’d caught a whiff of it when he came in, but hadn’t expected to find a plate with the food still hot up in the cockpit. You were up there as well, trying to put the silver ball the kid always liked stealing back on the controls.

“I made you a plate.” You smiled at him once you noticed him standing behind you, flustered as you tried replacing the ball. It wouldn’t attach, and Din placed his hand on yours to still you. You moved your hand.

“Sorry,” you stuttered, not making eye contact, “he took it again. I wanted to have it back on before you came up here.”

“It’s okay. He can keep it.” Din gave the ball back, and you smiled nervously. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Okay,” you murmured, heading towards the hatch. “Don’t let your food get cold.”

Once you’d left the room, he locked the hatch door and removed his helmet. Din had originally planned to move on to Nevarro immediately to hand over his bounties, but the food was enticing and won him over. After all, you’d said not to let it get cold and it smelled amazing after the ration bars he’d been eating on his hunt.

He took a bite and was a goner. “Maker, I don’t know what I did to deserve her.”

The third time Din realized he loved you, he hid.

He’d been coming back inside from cleaning his blasters to find you in one of his shirts again, singing softly to the kid.

Din didn’t recognize the song, it being in your mother tongue and not in the basic you usually spoke, but it was nice coming from your lips. From the look of things, the kid liked it too as he cooed up at you, his clawed fingers reaching for your cheeks.

You smiled down at the kid in between lines of the lullaby and he laughed when you tickled his little sides.

Din stayed where he was by the blast doors, just watching you both interact. He was struck with the thought that if this was family, his aliit, he wanted to keep it forever. But did you feel the same?

He frowned at himself, disappointed in his lack of courage. You placed the now sleeping kid in his hammock above Din’s bed and murmured goodnight before closing the door.

Din kept himself hidden outside until after you’d climbed up to the cockpit before replacing his weaponry in the hold. He didn’t want to interrupt you before, but now he missed your warm presence. He sighed, wishing he’d been able to hold you as you sang.

The fourth time Din realized he loved you, he sat there in disbelief.

He looked at his spare tunics and pants, then at one of his capes, and then his spare duraweave flight suit. All of them had previously been riddled with hastily sewn up holes (Din had never been very good at sewing). But now—now they were fixed. In fact, you could hardly tell they’d been damaged at all (except for that one cape he’d worn with a particularly nasty bounty who’d ripped huge holes in the cape. That one, you’d put patches in).

“Cyare!” Din called from where he stood at the edge of his quarters.

“Yes, Mando?” you looked up from your cooking to see him staring over at you. You didn’t know what the word meant, the name he kept calling you, but you figured it probably meant nanny or mechanic. After all, isn’t that what you were.

“Did you fix my clothes?” he asked pointedly as he lifted his cloak.

You smiled down at the soup you had simmering down on the stove range and nodded, not making anymore eye contact with the helmet’s dark visor.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” Din smiled under his helmet, but you shrugged.

“I didn’t want you to get sick from all the holes in your clothing. You should really be more careful, big guy. We need you here.”

Din didn’t know what to say, but he managed a curt nod and attached the cape to his shoulders.

“I’m going out,” Din told you and you looked up at him once more. “I should be back in a few hours, but I’ll use the comm link if something goes wrong.”

“Be safe.” you murmured as he disappeared down the ramp. You didn’t realize how much he loved those words.

The fifth time Din realized he loved you, he was holding his hand to a nasty wound on your thigh and cursing in Mando’a.

“Mando, please.” You whimpered in pain. It hurt like hell, but it burned at the same time.

“Hold on, cyare, it’s going to be okay.” He worked swiftly to stop the bleeding and sprayed some of his emergency bacta spray on the sizzling wound.

Din blamed himself completely. You’d asked to go to the pond near the landing zone for the Razor Crest before he’d set out for the new bounty so you could wash the clothes you’d all been wearing for weeks. His quarry was supposed to be peaceful, whatever the species, but it hadn’t been. It knew he was coming and it aimed for the both of you. In the process of you turning to shield his son from being hit, you caught a nasty blaster shot to the thigh.

“Just a little more.” He said, removing his fingers from the spot and holding you closer as the spray started to heal your leg. You cried out, struggling against his beskar. He knew from experience that the wound didn’t really hurt anymore, but the healing was uncomfortable.

“I’m almost done. You’re going to be okay, cyar’ika. You’re okay.” he said just loud enough to be heard with the vocoder as he shushed you.

The pain and desperation you’d been dealing with to keep the child safe had exhausted you, and Din soon realized you’d slumped unconscious against him. He sighed, struggling slightly to pick you up and set you in his quarters instead of your own. If you asked when you woke up, he’d just argue that his bed was closer.

While he blamed himself for your pain, he was overcome with how much he loved you. You would willingly have sacrificed your life for his foundling, and you were injured in the process, but maker did he love you. You were protective and so caring, and you’d won him over.

Din watched you sleeping for a moment, fingertips brushing your sweaty hair from your face. He sighed, wishing he had the courage to tell you how he felt. You didn’t even know his name, despite you traveling together for an entire cycle by now. Din closed his quarters’ door and stepped away, knowing if he spent any more time there that he might be willing to do anything for you, including giving up everything he knows. What would that feel like?

Two days later, you watched Din as he moved about the ship in hyperspace. He hadn’t said a word to you since you’d been shot, and you feared the worst. You were afraid he saw you as a nuisance now, not having been able to take care of keeping the child safe as well as yourself even though the kid was fine and you’d been the one who’d gotten hurt. Did he want you to leave?

“Mando,” you asked nervously, waiting for him to even acknowledge you.

He hesitated before answering. “Yes?”

“What’s going on with you? You haven’t spoken to me since, well—“ You cut yourself off and twiddled your fingers in your lap, unsure of his response. You heard a crackling through the vocoder and looked up to see him walking closer to where you sat on a few supply crates in the hold.

“It’s my fault,” he started, “that you got hurt. It’s my fault. You’re my—“ He stopped just as suddenly as he’d started.

“Your what, Mando?” you asked softly. He stood beside you, taking your hands in his gloved ones.

“Gar ner aliit.” He answered finally. “You’re my family, my clan. I love you.”

“Really?” you gasped, tears brimming your eyes. He shocked you with this confession, but in a very good way.

“I would never lie to you, mesh’la. I love you. The way you have cared for me and my foundling, and chosen me over and over again has won me over, cyar’ika.”

“Oh Mando—“

“Din. My name, it’s Din Djarin. You should know it.”

“You have a beautiful name.” Your voice was quiet as you continued, “All those things you said I do, I do it because I love you. I care for no one else in this whole galaxy more than I care for you.”

Din brought his helmeted head down to lean against your forehead in a keldabe kiss. Your eyes closed briefly and he brought your hands up to where his mouth would be beneath the beskar.

“If you would have me, I intend to make you my riduur, my wife.” Din said, the vocoder catching on his words. “And when I do, I will bare all for you as you have already bared my soul.”

Your voice shook as you breathed out a “yes” and surged up to hug him. He wasn’t expecting the movement and nearly stumbled from the force of it, but he smiled beneath his helmet and laughed happily. He would always be grateful for the courage he had to bare his soul to you and for you to take it and keep it safe inside your heart.

Taglist: @bestintheparsec @softpedropascal @sanchosammy @scribbledghost @clan-djarin

[sofuckingdarling-blog-blog]

Erwin, Levi and Tea part 2 of 2.

So he told himself safe things, like that his admiration for Levi was perfectly reasonable, after all everyone admired Levi, even people who didn't much like the man admired him. His yearning for closeness was just a result of that admiration. But Erwin knew better and a part of him had known that he was drawn to Levi in a more passionate way then admiration would dictate, that he had felt something there that was strong and unyielding since he first set eyes on the way Levi flew. But Erwin tried his best to be careful during tea time, he focused on moderating himself, perfected the timing of his stares. Sometimes though, he felt himself to transparent, a gaze lingered to long an accidental touch that caused a bright red flush to become obvious on his pale cheekbones, but each time he thought he may have outed himself. Levi was as unaffected as ever and Erwin could internally sigh with relief.

Erwin was always the one to approach Levi and that didn't change until Levi lost Petra and Farlan. He remembers clearly the urgent knock at his door and the shock he felt seeing the smaller man's eyes bloodshot and rimmed red looking frantically around , trying to avoid looking at Erwin altogether As if somehow looking at him would hurt. Erwin just opened his door and offered to brew Levi some tea, his brewing skills had gotten better thanks to Levi's detailed and somewhat impatient instruction. Levi nodded still refusing to look at him and he left his office and came back with two cups and pot of chamomile tea, hoping it would help soothe Levi's nerves. The night was long ,countless cups of tea were drained and Erwin sat at his desk mindlessly going over the same pieces of paperwork, thoughts focused solely on the man in front of him. It seemed odd that hours earlier this same man held a blade to Erwin, furious and half in shock with grief, needing an outlet. Levi had lashed out .

Erwin was actually happy to be the recipient of that violent grief stricken action, it gave him a chance to let his comrade know the depth of his importance in the fight for humanity, it allowed him to express to the Levi that holding on to regret would only hurt him and the people depending on him. He was able to tell him with sincerity that they would push forward together and make sure that the death of his loved ones has meaning. He did his best to give Levi clarity and a solid goal while he was floundering in his grief. That this incredibly powerful man listened to Erwin's words through his pain set his soul alight. it was shaky, new and hard won, but Erwin knew that a certain amount of Levi's trust had been given to him in that moment.

Still as they sat facing each other mugs of tea in had Erwin was afraid to make a wrong step, to somehow damage his hurting comrades trust before they had a chance to build on it. He felt at a loss, his heart and guts felt tight and twisted up. Erwin knew to well that there was nothing anyone could say that would really help ease the pain. So Erwin was quiet, and as with most things in their slow blooming relationship, He let Levi take the lead. He remembers hoping that night that the warmth from the chamomile was comforting to Levi that somehow the familiarity of their interaction would help ease the frantic mans tension. At that moment Erwin wished he could infuse the tea with every warm thought he held for the man in front of him. He knew it was a stupid silly vain thing to wish for but the twisting in his gut relaxed at thought.

It was as though his body was calling out for him to comfort the grief stricken Levi. But he knew that they were not at such an intimate level and the knowledge was bitter in his throat, it pricked at the corners of his eyes and he had to compose himself subtly before looking back at the narrow steel grey eyes. His eyes seemed less frantic and more resigned underneath the delicate furrowed brows, and Erwin's stomach clenched at the thought of the turmoil Levi was experiencing. Erwin knew that Levi's heart was more tender then his in dealing with this sort of loss, not that Levi was in any way weaker because of it, just newer to the Corps and with a heart more decent then Erwin, Levi's heart to Erwin was a very clear indicator of strength, because despite all he had experienced it was still so full of the capacity to love. lost in these thoughts Erwin almost missed it when Levi said "Farlan, Isabel and I, we were saving up to go to the surface, you know? We were going to be filthy rich, the sort of rich where we wouldn't even have to wipe our own asses if we didn't want to." his fingers traced the outlines on a fancy tin of tea. "It seems stupid now, I'm sure it sounds stupid, but It wasn't about being rich, it was about comfort, if we could fantasize about a life that we didn't have to struggle through everyday just to be constantly shit on it was easier to wake up in the mornings."

Erwin blinked, shocked at the unprompted confession, in awe over the heart wrenching honesty. his heart pounding in his chest. Erwin hadn't known about the specific aspects of their plans to get to the surface, he knew the surface was the end goal of getting the bounty on Erwin but he didn't know the details. They came as a bit of a surprise to Erwin, but the comfort aspect made complete sense to him, having to live everyday struggling to survive carrying around the burden of a growling stomach would be hard without a fantasy to sustain you. That they fantasized about wealth was unsurprising. Full stomachs everyday, safe comfortable places to sleep, the ability to indulge in the things that made them happy. No longer being powerless.

Levi continued fingers still tracing the fancy lettering on the tin of luxury tea face resolutely pointed downwards "I wanted to tell you thank you though, for the tea, I don't actually care about being wealthy like the pigs in Sina but I didn't think someone like me would get the chance to look at some shit like this, and here I am drinking it almost every week, i mean shit its unbelievable, Isabel and Farlan were impressed, they didn't really like the tea very much but I'd bring some over to their ungrateful asses anyway, they were happy for me that I got to drink fancy ass tea. They were good people like that." Levi's laugh is hollow "Thanks Erwin" he gets up suddenly and walks to the door.

"We can drink tea whenever Levi" Erwin blurts out and before he can stop himself "Whatever tea you want, any sort of tea in all of Sina in all of the walls" and Erwin feels absolutely ridiculous and disgustingly bare under Levi's steady gaze. but to his massive surprise and relief the smaller mans lip curls up so slightly it would be easy to miss and Erwin probably would have missed it had he not spent so much time studying Levi's expressions. "Sure Erwin, whatever old man don't have a stroke" he closes the door behind him with a thud.

Erwin is left with his thoughts and the rising sun, he feels stuck to the spot behind his desk. His ears are red and he thinks about how Levi and his friends had dreamed of luxury, his friends are no longer around but Erwin is grateful that for the duration of their time with the Survey Corp they had full bellies and warm safe beds and even according the Levi got to try some of the luxury tea's that Erwin had bought. Erwin had no idea how Levi managed to sneak them out without him knowing but he suspects a lock picking kit and graceful, nimble, fingers that are all to familiar from Erwin's observation of them griping a tea cup by the rim or tracing over beautifully decorated packages. One day Erwin thinks he will manage to pluck up the courage to ask Levi why he holds his cup in such an odd way. Erwin shakes his head free from his frivolous thoughts, thoughts that are caught up in Levi completely.

Erwin knows that its selfish but he is so happy that Levi is still here living, breathing, and with him in the Survey Corp. He wasn't lying when he said that humanity needed Levi's strength, but Erwin knows that isn't the only reason he wants Levi around. He decides then that life really is to short, especially for them. In the short time they have left, since being in the Scouts is like living on borrowed time, Erwin wants to be the one that indulges Levi, he realizes this like a smack to his face stinging, bright and obvious. He wants to be the one that exposes Levi to every luxury possible given his budget. He may not be wealthy like the nobles in Sina but he has a fair amount of money, he is well connected, motivated and talented in scheming.

So when Levi comes to him a day after his night spent grieving in Erwin's room, Erwin is relieved. He let out a breath he had been holding since he stupidly let words naked with the desire of Levi's company spill from his mouth. Levi asks him if he's ever heard of tea that blooms when its brewed and Erwin smiles. He tells Levi he actually know where to get some, and Levi looks up at him through his fringe which looks like it needs a cut soon and says "Great lets get some of that shit" and Erwin's entire frame feels electric. He follows the request up by asking Erwin if he would be wiling to brew some tea in an hour or so, after dinner, and Erwin is sure his body is made of something capable of creating sparks.

He feels the desire to shower Levi in good things as something sharp and warm, almost possessive almost jealous. It's the part of him that guards his observations of Levi and each cup of tea he drinks with a feverish tenacity. That feels pleasure curl as deep as his bone marrow each time Levi requests a specific blend of tea, or lets out an obviously pleased sigh after sipping from his cup. That Levi had ever had the desire for luxury is a blessing for Erwin who delights in every good thing he can give the small man. Erwin who is awestruck by the wonder that colors Levi's expressions at things he never thought he would see or experience underground. He wants to keep those expressions to himself because there is something so fragile and breakable in those expressions of contentment, pleasure, excitement, wonder and awe that he has to fight back his instincts to protect and remind himself to enjoy the time he has with this incredible person. Erwin is no longer a frugal man, as Levi has unleased every indulgent part of him.

[madlymiho]

FINALLY! 😍 sooo dearest Miho, how about this: Crocodaddy/Trash Bird/Kiddo get so annoyed (and maybe turned on? lol) with a female member of a rival crew that they attack her, but she counters the attack and hits back including a ton of sass.. how would they react? 😏😏😏 - ❤ @surgeontrash

Good choice, my dear, good choice for this 😌😋 I feel in particular mood to write this and I hope that it will suit your tastes ~

Warning : light NSFW

Crocodile :

• Crocodile is well-known to have many rivals, so adding a new one to the list doesn't really bother him. He has a business to rule, and people who don't want him to succeed, it's the everlasting balance of life after all

• But what Crocodile didn't see coming is that... you're really attractive. Despite your bad manners, your poor choices of life (come on, can't you be more ambitious and not being under a lame captain command?), and your sassy language... you have something appealing, he can't deny it

• Your encounters are always pretty violent. You seem not to like him a lot, and fair enough, he's easily annoyed by your behaviors and this obvious light in your eyes which tells him you want to pick a fight with him. It becomes almost casual to end up in powerful battles, where he appreciates your wild spirit and the fact that you don't easily bow in front of him

• With time, your interactions become slightly more intimate. Your defiance is a real turn-on, and Crocodile can't deny the fact that he adores the way you always answer to his assaults. Thanks to his power, it's easier for him to approach you, his hand even wandering on your hips for a second, squeezing your flesh while he reminds you how disgusting you are in a long growl, the heat of your body only telling him how much you want him too

• When Crocodile can't control his arousal anymore, you better not come too close. The reptile is far from being rusty, and as soon as he as you under his grip, you are nothing but a trapped butterfly in a spider web, and even if he confesses you his profound hatred in a whisper, his lips are digging in the crook of your neck to nibble your skin, as he enjoys the way you instinctively wrap your legs around his hips

• It's in these moments that he appreciates your sassy tone, when you're pinned under him, the bulge of his pants directly pressed against your core. There are not enough mean words in this world to actually save you ; he feels your desire, and anytime he rubs his manhood against you, he only sees the lust in your eyes

• But he won't ever cross any other line before your full acceptance. Crocodile is patient man, cruel but not sadistic, and soon enough, he knows you'd crawl back to him, desperate to feel that touch you're craving so much, a smirk plastered on his lips, as he lets you go after another intense fight

Doflamingo :

• Doflamingo loves to be loved, but he also adores to have enemies, he can't fool himself about it. The more he causes hatred, despair and reluctance, and the happier he is, because he feels like the master of this world, and his ego is more than pleased

• So having another little bug coming for his ass doesn't really bother him, on the contrary. You have a spirit, something to fight for, and this is enough for him to pick his curiosity and to see how easy it is to crush you

• Yes, Doflamingo doesn't believe in your strength, nor in your capacities, and every time you engage a fight with him, he's only there to mock you, laughing at your face at every punch and kick, easily eluding them, but surprised that you can elude his too

• Yet, you start to annoy the king with your everlasting attempt to combat him, and his irritation toward you slowly turn into something else... more carnal, and passionate. A true wild fire which gives him the will to break your limits, and possess you

• Now and then, you feel his strings pulling you closer to his chest, his heavy breathing burning your lips as his long fingers explore your body, ignoring your insults and your wiggling... only focus on that look of your face, and that call in your eyes. Oh sweet baby girl, you are actually enjoying this, don't you?

• "If you have such a filthy mouth, why don't you use it to suck your king's cock?" Doflamingo purrs, among with other dirty things, even daring to undress you slightly to pressure and tease some sensitive areas as he knows you are breaking under his suffocating touch

• This new game pleases him a lot, his conflicted feelings fighting hard, while he doesn't even bother to hide his boner when he has the possibility to press it against your rear. He loves to see you all flustered and speechless, and honestly, he believes you should feel lucky... you have pick the curiosity of a god, after all

• Yet, we are still speaking about a twisted man, with a twisted mind... if Doflamingo doesn't manage to drag you elsewhere to fuck you against a wall during your battle, after months, you better be careful that he's not growing bored of this silly game between the two of you... His frustration might become poisonous, and killing you would suddenly appear as a better option, if he can't shove his dick deep inside of you to make you beg for more

Kid :

• After he became the rookie with the highest bounty ever, Kid has appealed enemies and he knows it. But fuck them all, if they want to become his rivals, they better be sure he would fight them all to their end, he's certainly not bothered about it!

• So having you in his enemies list doesn't really ring a bell for a long time. You're just under another flag, blindly following orders, and you don't share the same interests, so it feels absolutely common to end up fighting anytime you see each other

• But what Kid doesn't really understand is why he seems so... obsessed with you? When your crew are finally facing, he doesn't want to fight anyone else than you at the moment, and it feels weird, even for him

• You are annoying him so much... The way you move, jump, elude his blasts, spin, and then fight him again. He hates to see more of your skin, more of your muscles, when your shirt rolls up on your belly as you dig on him to fight again... Do you really have to act like a cunt, seriously?

• Speaking of sassy language, the two of you are always in a sort of contest. And when you're not busy giving him punches and kicks, you are coming closer, insulting the other one, until your bodies are almost flushed together, a waterfall of ugly words pouring out of your mouths

• It's in these moments that Kid notices the massive bulge in his pants, and the profound desire he has to plaster you on the grass and makes you shut up for good while he dominates you with his cock. But he never makes a move, and prefers to harshly push you away, disappearing from your sight for a moment, angry as hell ; after all, there's never winner in your fight

• Yes, all those various emotions are boiling inside of him for hours after your meeting, and during those nights after your encounters, Kid usually jerks himself off angrily, his mind only focus on your curves, your sassy tongue, your skin... and even if he doesn't say it, he wishes to touch you at this particular moment, so at least, you could have a real fun time for once

• Kid wakes up the morning after with the powerful need to see you again... so perhaps... you will shut your fucking mouth for good!! He thinks about you with a smile on his lips. What a fucking woman, you are

[butlerofthecount]

Tagged by (Kind of?): @ducktales-wco-oo and @gamblealife

Tagging: @tuesdayscanons​, @ketchupblood​, @airborne-disaster​, @listofevilinventions​, @darkwiing​, @pick-and-shovel-laborer​, and whoever else wants to!

Regular - Dextrius | Bold - Goosewing | Italics - Dexter

Dextrius

Goosewing

Dexter

layer one : the outside

Name -   Count (Dextrious) Duckula, Ludwig Von Goosewing, Count (Dexter) Duckula Eye colour - Crimson, Puke Green-Yellow, Obsidian Hair style / colour -  Black with purple streaks; fashioned with a fire motif in mind (Might as well have himself look hot, right?), Short and messy white, Medium-short raven hair that is nicely parted at the middle, yet some of the strands are uneven compared to other strands. Height -  4′7″, 4′8 1/2″, 4′7″ Clothing style - A stylized formal suit with some jewelry to complete the look. Flames are also visible on his cloak, though they aren’t real, just a part of the design. He prefers a classy bright violet and is proud of it. | Some undergarments like an undershirt and boxers with a heart pattern on them, pants, a vest, scarlet bow tie, spats on loafers, and a deerskin coat and hat to complete his attire. | A simple black suit jacket over a button up shirt with a red bow tie and a lavender cloak that reaches the floor. Best physical feature - Beak, arms, and chest. His small fangs can be seen as attractive, but also misleading for some of his more vampire traits, like how his arms may seem wimpy but have more to them than just their looks. What doesn’t disappoint is his chest however, as he does try to stay fit for his own satisfaction. | Chest and abdomen, as he is probably the most vulnerable there. Tries to stay clean and soft for the ladies. | Eyes, beak, and hands, for how gentle and smooth they feel, especially the last two.

layer two : the inside

Fears - Looking bad in front of a crowd, not being able to fulfill his dream of being a star, losing anything that he has gained at this point, Being alone, dying, and holy men and their items. | Not honoring his family lineage, going against his parent’s wishes, physically unpleasing people (to look at), old age, his insecurities, and being embarrassed. | Meat, Flesh, Blood, anything related to animals and their insides, terrible people, being used or abused by others, giant vegetable monsters, death in general, pain, confrontations with those much larger or heavier than him, and true vampries. Guilty pleasure -  Playing video games, interacting with the villagers in casual chats, much to Igor’s dismay, going out partying and clubbing (He’s been through some things), and exercising. | Having conversations with his imaginary partner, Heinrich, using technology to date and mingle with others, Tries to attend the Vampire Hunter’s convention but usually gets denied, and his drinking problems. | Gambling and playing cards, trying to pretty up his hair and attire, keeping his feathers well plumed, and writing songs. Biggest pet peeve - Being given orders or bossed around | Being seen as a laughingstock or a lolcow. | Not being taken as seriously as he wants to be, despite his appearance. Ambitions for the future - Wants to be the most well recognized person in the world, no, in reality. He seeks the best, as he only deserves the best. | To avenge his parents’ death and rid the world of all vampires, while also continuing his bloodline. | To live his life the way he wants to, not how Igor desires. 

layer three : thoughts

First thoughts upon waking up: - “So what’s the plan for today? Making a ruckus, plastering my luxurious face in several cities? Ah, I’ll think of something, I always do!” | “Eh heh, I hope dat my bed doesn’t need repairing again.” | “Ah! I better turn off the alarm clock before Nanny arrives!” What you think about most: - “What can I do to make myself the best, the most fantastic, the one that never winces from danger?” | “Duckula, you fiend, I will get you, and when I do, your end will be assured!!” | “Hm... I’m not sure what I think about most. Is it broccoli sandwiches? Or looking good? Hrm...” What you think about before bed: - “Ah, another plan foiled yet again. Oh well, better try again tomorrow!” | “I wonder what I might find in my dreams? Hopefully I’ll get an idea from dere...” | “Hopefully no one tries to make a rustle while I’m asleep. Don’t need to lose any more sleep than I already have.”

I wonder if: - “I wonder if anyone... really likes me for who I am?” | “I wonder if what I am doing is going to end the terror?” | “I wonder if there will be a day when Igor gives up his griping?”

What your best quality is: -  Charismatic! | Honor! | Kindness!

layer four : what’s better ?

Single or group dates - Group | Group | Single To be loved or respected - Loved | Respected | Respected Beauty or brains - Beauty (But he’s no slouch on brains) | Brains (But he wants beautiful partners) | Both (As he respects someone for who they are.) Dogs or cats - Dogs (Doesn’t mind Towser at all.) | Dogs (Cats just don’t like him and his way of life.) | Cats (He loves to pet them and they love to rest on his lap.)

layer five : do you…

Lie -  For certain | Only when forced to or to further his plans | Tries not to but has Believe in yourself - Without a doubt! Well, maybe one | Confidence drives his soul | Sometimes. Believe in love - Craves it! | Surely! | Yes. Want someone - They all do, just for their own reasons. Dexter’s the least yearning of one.

layer six : ever been …

Been on stage: - So many times | Once or twice | A couple of times Done drugs: - It’s safe to say yes, he’s done some, but it’s not like they’ve really affected him (Thanks to his supernatural tolerance) | No, besides alcohol and tobacco | He hasn’t really yet, but if he did, he’d have less tolerance compared to Dextrius Changed who you were to fit in: - He’s tried to adapt but for all of his attempts, he just can’t change who he really is. | He’s not willing to really change for others as he likes who he is and doesn’t feel like changing until his goals are complete. | Whether it’s to his life as a marshall or as a space bounty hunter, Dexter changes to try and make something different of himself from the rest of his bloodline. To be better than them.

layer seven : favorites

Favourite color - Red-Violet | Goldenrod | Emerald Green Favourite animal - Werewolves | Dogs | cats Favourite movie - Vines (Meme-craving pity duck) | Hasn’t seen any movies | Top Gun Favourite game - DarkStalkers: The Night Warriors | Doesn’t have any but Castlevania might be an interest | Red Dead Redemption (needs some place to get electricity for it though.)

layer eight : age

Day your next birthday will be -  October 23rd | April 8th | October 23rd How old will you be -, 35 or 879 | 67 | 45 or 889 Age you lost your virginity - For all of the silly stuff he’s done while at parties, he hasn’t lost it yet. He doesn’t know why, but it might have something to do with his fangs and him being a vampire... Or just unsatisfying to have “fun” with. | Oh, for sure nope. He’s been trying to for a good while. | Not yet, but isn’t pushing to get that changed either. Does age matter - Not really for Dextrius (He’s no pedo though) | Somewhat for Ludwig | And most definitely for Dexter

layer nine : in a person

Best personality - Supportive | Tolerant | Funny and Quirky Best eye colour - Really doesn’t matter | Sapphire Blue | Not really on that Best hair colour -  Radical or Unusual Hair Color | Natural Hair | Not really adamant on a specific color or type Best thing to do with a partner -  Have them adore and fawn over him, tend to his desires, snuggle with as he plants some kisses... not the deadly kind | To converse and put up with his shenanigans, perhaps even go out on romantic occasions if he can | Actually uncertain of what he wants

layer ten : finish the sentence

“I love - me and everything about my self... except for the insecurities. Those I can do without.” | “I love dat I know have de chance to bring honor to my family name and dis time, I will do it right!!” | “I love who I am, and the good people that I protect. And Nanny and Igor too. I can never forget them!!” “I feel - ...like I’m doing something wrong sometimes. Like I have to be different, and adapt to make people like me.” | “I feel as if dis device is not doing what I want it to do. Hrm... Stupid contraption!! Heh, why do dese dings always go haywire?” | “I feel like there may be something in my clothes... Is that you, Spurs? Ah, nope. Just a rat.” “I hide - my issues that I don’t want peeps to see. If they did see it, then they wouldn’t like me for sure. I know it.” | “I hide my wampire weapons for any visitors. Wouldn’t want to get another accident on my conscious, heh heh.” | “I hide whenever I get scared. It just seems like the best course of action sometimes, but when no one else will rise up, I’ll just have to. For everyone else.” “I miss - earlier times. Back then I could have done so much different to get what I want.” | “I miss my parents. They were very loving and caring, and seemed like great people.” | “I miss my time for the daily lunch broccoli sandwich. Hmph, looks like I have to make it myself...” “I wish - that I could be famous. Whether it’s by the country, the world, or even the universe. I just wish people would see me, and all that I have to offer.” | “I wish I could find a way to stop all of de wampires. Dat way, I can carry on with finding someone for me.” | “I wish my ammo wouldn’t keep getting clogged or misfiring. I need to shoot when I want to shoot!”

[feynites]

#I love their interactions to bits and their fluffier moments are amazing#but so often there's an underlying heartbreak about them too#the difficult paths that shaped them into the people that they are#but also the hardships (and sometimes tragedies) awaiting them#sometimes it feels like I'm doing escapism of escapism#if that makes sense XD#with all the au fanart for LG#trying to imagine what they might have in happier moments#in worlds that might treat them more gently#in futures that hold more hope than darkness for them#and I just gave myself a sad over gratuitous art for no reason :x#(poor thenvunin barely-clad as usual :3)#but sometimes difficult doesn't mean impossible#because these dorks aren't just passively sitting back either#they're /trying/ and sometimes that works out#and all the aus you've written for them are just <3<3 (@pyrrhy)

Sometimes - when he lets himself - Thenvunin wonders what would really make him happy in his life.

He knows what is supposed to make him happy, of course. A life of good works and atonement. There are days when he uncharitably thinks that all mages are born with a debt they never asked for; like inheriting some unmet ancestor’s bills. From the first moment magic flew from his fingertips, he was destined to spend the rest of his life paying for it, paying for the danger of it, and the power of it, and the ancient history tied to it.

He is supposed to be happy, in his payments. Humble and thoughtful and willing to make all needed sacrifices, to be one of the good mages. And sometimes, he is. He can recollect a feeling of relief that would rush through him, every time his sacrifices were rewarded, every time it was affirmed that he was doing well at offering the universe his apologies.

He can recollect it.

But, more and more, he finds, it is becoming less likely that he will actually feel it. And some part of him is beginning to wonder if that was ever really ‘happiness’, or simply the brief flare of hope that maybe, some day, if he did things precisely right...

Maybe he would actually pay his debts, before he died.

Maybe he would no longer have to constantly prove himself, and could simply be.

But whether it was happiness or not, Thenvunin finds in his time with the Inquisition, that it becomes harder to feel. That instead of relief, something else tends to rise up in him every time he is called upon to pay for his magic. Something steely, and bitter, and increasingly resentful. It doesn’t really speak with Uthvir’s voice, but it listens to Uthvir. This part of him that would only ever come out, in the past, when he had a sword in his hand and an enemy in front of him... it gets bigger. Stronger. Louder.

Thenvunin would be afraid that it might steal all of his happiness.

Except, he realizes, when he leaves Markham for the second time - when Uthvir comes and gets him, and tells him they’re rescuing him - that he is happy. Or rather, he can be happy, in ways that sometimes conflict with him, but also seem much stronger than what he thought happiness was. He finds something that he hadn’t even realized he’d misplaced; something left behind in the days before his Harrowing. Before Seth and the guard and the rebellion. He is not really sure if more of the blame rests with Uthvir or the Inquisition but he knows he’s changed. That he can feel giddy, and excited, and confined, and strong in ways that he shouldn’t. For reasons that he shouldn’t.

That he can want things he’s been told not to, and that even realizing that, even admitting it, doesn’t seem to carry the dire consequences he somehow always feared.

What would really make him happy?

Is it wandering? Is it fighting? Is it love? Is it freedom?

Can it last?

That’s the sticking point, he supposes. Most any mage can taste freedom, but usually only at the cost of death. Any thrill can be obtained, but not all of them can be survived. What kind of end is waiting for him, now? What kind is waiting for Uthvir? If neither of them had been born mages, would it have gone better for them? Or worse? Would Thenvunin have been left to die as an infant? Would Uthvir have ever escaped enslavement?

How many lives might they have led with worse fates in store?

...How many with better?

And what would ‘better’ even look like? Thenvunin wonders. Utopia, maybe. Elvhenan, he might have thought, before he learned that even old fables must be uprooted and destroyed in this life. But if not Elvhenan, then what? Some other idyll, some other place. Free of demons and slavery and death. Or even just less replete with them. Would the two of them have ever had simple lives? Or lives filled with fewer harrowings, at least? Kindly adventures, maybe. Sweet stories. Uncomplicated dreams. A castle in the clouds, higher even than Skyhold, where bad things could only threaten to reach them, but never actually succeed.

He does not realize how thick his throat feels, until he swallows and finds it like sandpaper. His vision blurs a little, and Uthvir stops, and looks over with concern. Their hand rests against his forearm.

“Thenvunin?” they ask. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head.

How can he explain? It sounds so silly. To suddenly start crying, of all things, just because of a daydream. Just because he doesn’t know why they don’t deserve a chance. Why everyone, it seems, is so set upon abandoning them; why people must hate mages, why humans can go about destroying the lives of elves, why Uthvir’s skin has scars but there are magisters who live to ripe old ages and die peacefully in their beds, untouched by justice for their atrocities. Why even the elven gods must be liars and cheats and murderers and creatures of their ilk, why Solas would look the Inquisitor in the eye and declare his intentions to destroy this world.

Their world.

Even the rebel gods forsake them.

Thenvunin shakes his head, again, and then lifts his arms and puts them around Uthvir. He cannot change it. That is the worst part. He is still, after all this time, so powerless to fix things. His shoulders shake and he pulls Uthvir presumptuously close. They do not object, though. Their hands settle onto his back, and they ask him what’s wrong again. They don’t let go, even as Thenvunin just rests his head atop theirs, and weeps for seemingly no reason.

When he finally finds that he can’t anymore, Uthvir rubs a hand in slow circles against his spine.

“We have been travelling much harder than usual,” they say. “I should have realized. Let’s make camp, hmm? Rest a while.”

A much simpler state of affairs than anything which Thenvunin could articulate.

Uthvir gets him moving again. The roads they are traversing are not well-trodden, but they are better than hunters’ trails or smugglers’ paths. Trade routes, Uthvir had said, between villages and more remote homesteads, not-quite-civilized but not really wild, either. They had warned him that slavers were known to pass through the areas, every now and again. Opportunists, mostly, or bounty hunters, following leads on runaways. Debt collectors, too, apparently. Thenvunin had been surprised to learn the fullness of the systems in place, that operated within the machinery of Tevinter’s slave trade.

Somehow he had always envisioned things as a matter of... well, magical force, more than anything. Corrupt mages casting spells that stripped others of their agency. Shackling people to them with blood magic and curses and demons to aid them. He had never really considered that a great deal of paperwork was involved, and truthfully, Dorian had explained things more than Uthvir generally did. He had made it sound almost reasonable, talking about debt and time frames and ‘indentured servitude’. Made it sound almost like the Circle, in fact, and sometimes Uthvir made the Circle sound like slavery, too, in even more unsettling ways.

Thenvunin thinks about debts, and cruelty, and stares at the tip of a scar he can see on the back of Uthvir’s neck, as they find a spot sufficient to their aims of making camp. The sun is still up, and it can’t be all that long past midday. They don’t complain about the daylight they will lose by stopping now, however, merely bid Thenvunin sit and get work on preparing a fire, while they set up their tent.

Thenvunin takes his time - it is hardly urgent, after all - and spends the better part of it watching Uthvir. Watching their hands, as they move, and watching their face, as they frown a little, and send the occasional glance his way. Watching their arms and their back and the way their armour moves with them, the way they walk and the deftness with which they go through familiar motions.

They are very graceful.

Graceful. And gentle. And sometimes not gentle, in ways that... excite him. But do not frighten him, and haven’t for a long time, now. They are cautious - even over-cautious - and playful, and they are beautiful. It strikes him, then, that Uthvir is one of the loveliest people he has ever met. He wonders if this was what the Maker might have felt like, when he heard Andraste’s voice, singing so brightly from such a dark and forsaken place.

“What?” Uthvir asks, and Thenvunin realizes his staring has been quite blatant.

He swallows.

Say it!

Uthvir is always saying such... such things, to him. Poetic things. Flattery, he might call it, except that it works too well. With things as they are, should they not reciprocate? At least somehow?

“You remind me of Andraste!” he blurts.

Uthvir blinks.

Awkward silence descends, and Thenvunin kind of wants to find a rock to hide under. Uthvir’s brow furrows, and they look as though they are backtracking the last few moments in their mind, searching for a missing piece of context.

“...In what sense?” they finally ask him.

Oh, Maker, why did he say anything? Now he has to explain. Or at least try to. He folds his arms, and lifts his chin, except that he cannot get defensive. Uthvir has done nothing wrong, there is no fault in their inquiry, and though Thenvunin dearly wishes that they could simply divine his meaning, it is rather reasonable that they can’t. Under the circumstances.

“Well,” he says, still feeling somewhat wrung out from his tears. He clears his throat. “Well, in the - in the sense of, I was just. I was thinking, and, you know, the Maker heard Andraste’s singing and He fell in love with her. And that is rather like you. Except that you don’t sing, of course. Unless you do, though I haven’t heard it, I don’t think. But, that’s not the point, obviously. Just that... the Maker thought that Andraste was very nice, and... not that I’m comparing myself to the Maker, per se, that would probably be presumptuous, but... I love you.”

Uthvir stares at him.

Thenvunin redirects his gaze onto his unfinished campfire, and attempts to survive the sheer tidal wave of mortification rising up in him. He cannot bring himself to look, when he hears their footsteps coming closer. Not until they settle down beside him. And then he does, and his heart stops at the aching affection in their gaze.

“I do not think I am very much like Andraste,” they tell him. “But, thank you.”

Thenvunin sniffs.

“You have plenty in common with her,” he insists. “She wanted to end slavery and destroy Tevinter too, you know. And back when she was raising her army, very few people shared in her faith, and a lot of her enemies objected to nearly everything about her. But she was clever, and charismatic, and also very good at killing.”

“Ah,” says Uthvir. “I admit, when I consider her, I tend to think more about the end of that story.”

He frowns.

“I would not betray you,” he asserts, before he can think twice about it. “Not like Maferath.”

Uthvir reaches over, and brushes their fingers across the back of his hand.

“An addendum, then,” they decide. “Shall we say I am somewhat like Andraste, but with potentially better taste in husbands?”

“Certainly,” Thenvunin agrees, and then his brain catches up with the implications of that. Potentially better taste in husbands. Not men. Not lovers. Not bedpartners, cohorts, or allies.

Husbands.

Married.

Thenvunin’s heart stops and his tongue ties itself into a knot, and he looks at Uthvir, who only looks levelly back at him for a moment; before their expression softens, and they squeeze his hand. And then stand up, and move away, which seems so wrong that Thenvunin cannot help but reach out and grab their wrist.

Such a comment seems to vague to be a proposal; but too important to deny offhand.

“...You would consider marrying...?” he manages to ask.

Uthvir inclines their head.

“I would prefer to discuss such things when we are not on the road and near to exhausted,” they admit, which does seem reasonable. “But, yes, vhenan. I would.”

They lean down and kiss him, just once, before working their way free of him again, and saying something about having to check and just make certain of some nearby tracks they saw. They don’t leave his sight entirely, but Thenvunin can tell they are conspicuously giving him some space to process things.

The future is such a perilous thing. Happiness seems only so fleeting. All of it rife with the potential for a multitude of disasters. This is not, he thinks, the best of all possibly lives and fates.

But it is his, it is theirs, and if he can share it with them, then...

Then that is more than he could have dreamed.

[reluming]

Dear Yuletide author

Hi! I’m so happy that you’re writing for me! I’m mapped on AO3, and I’m very excited to read whatever you come up with – please don’t feel like you have to adhere to any of this letter, as long as you avoid my DNWs!

To start with, here are some of my general likes and dislikes!

I read slash, femslash, het, and gen. I love poly relationships. I love fluff, I love angst, I love porn – porn without plot and porn with plot. I love slice of life, and fics with heaps of domesticity. I love character studies.

I prefer happy endings, but bittersweet/sad ones are okay too.

Things I love in porn:

Pegging

D/s

Femdom

Bondage

Spanking/caning/corporal punishment

Dirty talk

Praise kink

Exhibitionism/public sex

Humiliation

Knifeplay

Double penetration

Choking

Crossdressing

Characters being super into giving oral sex

DNWs:

Rape/non-con (dub con is okay!)

A/B/O

Non-canon character death

Onto fandom-specific stuff!

The Bold Type

Requested characters: Any

What’s the canon about? A contemporary TV show featuring three young women who are best friends, working for a fashion magazine in New York and being there for each other through various career and relationship ups and downs. There’s one season with 10 episodes out so far, and it’s been renewed for two more seasons!

What I love about the canon: I love every character on this show! I love the fun and upbeat vibe, the awesome, flawed, beautifully strong women who are so supportive of each other. The focus on the friendship between the three main characters is the best thing! Every time they say “I love you” to each other my heart grows three sizes. 💞 I love how we see them being ambitious and going for their dreams, taking risks and fucking up and having to learn how to deal with their mistakes. I find it very comforting and inspiring at the same time, watching them being confident and amazing and human. People who don’t always get things right and who don’t always know what they’re doing. I enjoy watching them figure things out: Kat especially, who keeps changing her mind and doubting her choices and not really understanding what it is she wants.

Prompts:

Gen friendship fic with Sutton, Kat, and Jane! I could happily read about them doing something mundane and silly together (like getting froyo, or just hanging out in the apartment on a typical night). What were their first impressions of each other? How did they become friends? When did they agree to move in together and what was apartment-hunting like? What was it like the first night they moved in, did they all end up sleeping in the same bed talking till late? Did it take them some time to get used to living together, and was there a bit of friction at the beginning?

I would also be overjoyed to read anything sexual and/or romantic between Sutton, Kat, and Jane, in any combination! I’d be particularly interested in some kind of scenario where Kat is trying to figure out whether she’s really into women and she sleeps with both of her friends. At the same time. :’) Maybe during that brief time in the show when they’re all single?

Anything that explores what a wonderful woman and mentor and boss Jacqueline Carlyle is. How did she get here? Tell me about her moments of failure and heartbreak, her mistakes and regrets, her moments of triumph and breakthroughs! What does she think when she looks at Jane, especially, who she must see so much of herself in? That MOMENT at the end of S1 when Jane and Jacqueline are staring at each other while they go through their revolving doors and they’re both dressed in red and they’re mirrors of each other!! I’M SO HERE FOR MORE OF THAT CONTENT.

Sutton!! MY PURE RAY OF SUNSHINE. Five fashion moments in Sutton’s life she’ll remember forever? Memories she associates with a particular blouse, or scarf, or bracelet, or coat? (Btw, I prefer Sutton/Alex to Sutton/Richard, although I don’t mind Sutton/Richard. I really love Sutton and Alex’s dynamic and would even appreciate a friendship fic about them!)

One thing I feel like the show didn’t really give me was how JANE got here. Like, clearly writing for Scarlet was always her dream, but I just wanna know more about her motivations and her journey as a writer growing up!

I’d also be happy with a Jane/Ryan fic, they're super cute together! I would love to read about Jane exploring more kinky things with Ryan tbh? Like when Jane was SO OUTRAGED about the wax play thing I just thought maybe she should have the opportunity to try something similar with him! But I’d prefer if Jane/Ryan wasn’t the sole focus of the fic; if there was some focus on Jane & Sutton & Kat’s friendship as well, that would be fab.

Kat/Adena: I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. I would be extremely happy to read fic about them, post-series, during the series, whatever. Missing scenes, conversations and kisses and dreams. What happens in Peru? Future!fic! ANYTHING

Actually future!fic about where any of these characters are in five or ten or twenty years’ time would be very welcome!

Introspective fic about how Kat feels about her identity and how that’s evolved over the course of S1

Backstory about Adena and the countries she’s travelled to and the women she’s fallen in love with. What’s the story with Coco? Why isn’t it working out? What was it like, back when it did work?

Shouwa Genroku Rakugo Shinjuu

Requested characters: Kikuhiko, Miyokichi, Sukeroku

What’s the canon about? An anime (complete, two seasons, 25 episodes in total). Focuses on the art of rakugo, a centuries-old tradition of comic storytelling in Japan. A gangster, fresh out of prison, wants to become the apprentice of an old rakugo master after seeing the master perform in prison. From this, the story of the old rakugo master unfolds, and we learn about two boys who become rakugo apprentices when they’re little, and the friendship that grows between them.

What I love about the canon: This anime!! I was not expecting it to make me feel SO MANY FEELINGS. I love the historical setting, I love the STUNNING use of the unreliable narrator, I love the careful and slow development of Kikuhiko and Sukeroku’s friendship from childhood to adulthood; the way they’re such striking opposites at first glance, but there’s something at the core of them that’s the same. The heady mix of envy and love and bitterness that pulls Kikuhiko to Sukeroku always; the things left unsaid. How Miyokichi’s presence in their lives disrupts some things and catalyses others. The way Miyokichi’s choices have been limited because she’s a woman, and Kikuhiko and Sukeroku are both such terrible assholes in their own ways, but she can’t help being pulled into their orbit. I love the feeling of transience in this anime, of something always slipping away from your grasp, of history crumbling away beneath your fingertips; but there’s a gorgeous sense of continuity too. Beautiful things are fleeting and immortal at the same time. They are preserved – diluted, sometimes; changing and evolving. But still preserved, in some way.

Prompts:

I want fic that explores their complicated and tangled relationship in all its glory. My dearest wish is for them to be all reunited properly in the afterlife, for them to finally sort out their feelings, and to be a happy OT3.

Or a canon AU where events went differently and they lived and raised Konatsu together and were messy but happy, somehow.

I could see Kikuhiko as gay or bi, but no matter what, I feel like his feelings for Miyokichi are fascinating and would be interesting to explore in fic either way; if it’s not that he’s sexually attracted to her, what is it?

I would love something that deals with Kikuhiko’s repression of his sexuality, a fic where he was never able to let himself acknowledge his feelings for Sukeroku while he was alive. But equally I’d love a fic where he did acknowledge those feelings and those feelings were requited and they did something about it, once or twice or many times. But please don’t sideline Miyokichi, whatever you do!

If you want to make me really sad, that’s okay too! Give me Kikuhiko mourning the two people he cared about most in his life and struggling always with their ghosts. I’d be very interested to see something that just falls on the side of horror, or is at least spooky and supernatural in some way, based on the shinigami stuff and those S2 OPs where they coloured Sukeroku’s eyes red. I loved the eerie vibe of all that, so please feel free to run with it! Weird AUs featuring undead!Sukeroku and Miyokichi would be fantastic.

I am particularly into Kikuhiko crossdressing, and I’d love to read about a Kikuhiko whose relationship with gender is complex and hard to define. That scene where he’s in drag and Miyokichi does his makeup is absolutely gorgeous and one of my favourite scenes in the show and if you could do something with that I’d be eternally grateful. I’d be really happy with nb/genderqueer/trans interpretations of Kikuhiko! And if he could talk about his gender feelings with Miyokichi that would be A+++

OR if you just want to write me a Miyokichi-centric fic exploring ANYTHING about her whatsoever I would be ecstatic, I love her to pieces and would dearly love to read some backstory, introspection, character study, anything. 

Killjoys

Requested characters: Aneela, Delle Seyah Kendry

What’s the canon about? Sci-fi TV show with three seasons (10 episodes each). Follows a trio of bounty hunters through hijinks and mysteries. 

What I love about the canon: I love how fun this show is and how despite the gritty sci-fi settings and the dark look of the show it’s pretty much the OPPOSITE of grimdark? It’s such a joyful and optimistic show and it’s bursting with humour. It doesn’t take itself seriously but it loves its characters and it loves its audience; all the character interactions are just wonderful and the arcs are all fantastic and it always manages to give me exactly what I want. It’s SO satisfying! And SO many people of colour in the foreground and the background!! That’s such a rare and beautiful thing in this genre and I’m so grateful. Plus, so many of those characters of colour are queer too!!

Prompts:

So I shipped Dutch/Delle Seyah DESPERATELY in the first two seasons, and I still do! But oh man, I love Aneela/Delle Seyah, how they’re SO PERFECTLY MATCHED and on equal footing. EVIL SPACE LESBIAN QUEENS!! I love the united front they present, I love how quickly they get into each other’s heads and hearts and develop this fierce and steadfast loyalty towards each other.

So, while I didn’t request Dutch as one of my characters, I’d love a fic that compares Delle Seyah’s feelings for Dutch and for Aneela. Like, obviously Delle Seyah was physically attracted to Dutch and since Dutch and Aneela look the same, there’s that element there from the beginning. Is that weird for Delle Seyah, considering how different Dutch and Aneela are otherwise? What differences between Dutch and Aneela are the most significant to Delle Seyah, and what similarities does she notice, beside the physical? What is it that makes Delle Seyah fall in love with Aneela, as opposed to whatever it was she felt for Dutch? Is she still attracted to Dutch at the end of S3?

It seems like neither Aneela or Delle Seyah have ever felt like this about anybody, so I’d just love any sort of fic dealing with how either/both of them process these emotions!! Is it scary for them? Exciting? How anxious does it make them? What are they most worried about?

I wouldn’t mind a fic about Aneela and Delle Seyah just being evil queens and unleashing themselves on the universe together while luxuriating in their power and having the most passionate, wild sex as they think/talk about all the evil deeds they’ve accomplished!

Honestly uhhh any sort of porn about them would be SO welcome, I’m shallow and they’re beautiful and they clearly seem like they have a lot of fun in bed!

Maybe there’s something you can play with about the green and mind-melding here? I don’t know, just an idea I’m throwing out there! :D

“Be careful” / “Be brutal” might just one of my favourite dialogue exchanges in any piece of fiction ever 💖 I just love their dynamic and I need more of it, so I’d be interested to read anything you’d like to write about them!

The Handmaiden

Requested characters: Sook-hee, Hideko

(I’m basically copy & pasting from my letter last year because I still want the same things!)

What’s the canon about? A 3-hour long movie; Korean adaptation of Sarah Waters’ Fingersmith. A conwoman falls in love with her female mark!

What I love about the canon: It’s such a beautiful gay romance with brilliant twists and the two female leads are SO endearing in their own ways; the triumph of the women over the horrible men in their lives, and in particular the triumph of Hideko over the trauma she’s experienced, is really moving and buoyant to watch. The movie is also just lush with careful detail and a dazzling experience from start to finish.

Prompts:

I’d love anything about Hideko and Sook-hee, set during or after the film.

If it’s set during the film, I’d really love something from Hideko’s POV, because I feel like her thoughts are much more opaque in the film. I’d like to read about how she feels about her life before Sook-hee appears, what her first impressions of Sook-hee are, and the journey of her falling in love with Sook-hee. (I don’t want explicit detail about the abuse that Hideko has suffered: the level of detail that the film goes into is fine, but nothing beyond that, please!)

Missing scenes from the movie would be SO welcome! I can’t get enough of their precious interactions and how they always feel so honest somehow, even if they’re both hiding behind secrets and lies at first?

After the movie: where do they go, what do they do? Something that takes place immediately afterwards, or something that takes place years in the future – even something that looks at them being old and grey together, omg, that would make my heart melt!

I could totally be into a more plotty kind of fic that shows them running more cons together! Equally, I would be SO here for simple, slice-of-life stuff.

Something that explores Hideko and Sook-hee’s relationship with kink after the movie would be WONDERFUL. How does Hideko feel about kink after the abuse she’s suffered? Does she want to be kinky with Sook-hee, but have really complicated feelings about it? The mutuality and symmetry of their sex scenes in the movie is what strikes me, how the focus is on mirroring each other, doing the same acts together. But I could see them trying out different things as they become more comfortable and settle into their relationship. Like, the ending scene with Hideko reclaiming for her own pleasure the bells that were once used to abuse her – that scene is so lovely and anything in this vein would be great!

Thanks for stopping by! Happy Yuletide, and I can’t wait to read your creation! <3