#I’m like literally in heat it’s absolutely abominal

[matchamiko]

Being sandwiched between them and the mattress, ass nestled in the cradle of their pelvis, thighs framing the outside of your hips. Deeeeep long strokes, the kind that have you sighing and moaning like a melody. Grinding hard and purposeful, big big hands fisting the sheets either side of your chest where the fat of your tits spill out from being squished into the bed. Hitting so good, hips dragging up your ass with every thrust, balls catching on your spread pussy, tacky with arousal. Makes you wanna bite the pillow by your head, makes you wanna scream and thrash, makes you wanna cry and sob; but all you can do is take it with glassy eyes and drool drying on your lips.

When they press their nose to the top of your head and breathe in your scent, when they turn your head to the side and pant against your cheek, when they struggle with keep such a long deep pace that they begin to shudder and they’re begging to hold on, begging you to just lay there and keep taking it. Kicking your legs wider, a broad hand spanning your hip to shove you back and back and back on to their quickening pace, their deepening pace. A usefulness only you can provide, a cock only you can take, yelps and gasping grunts only you can give. Smacking deep into your belly, hips loud against your ass, all gritted teeth and sneering winces when you cum loud and messy and creamy over their pubes. Shoving harder, taking harder, fucking you right down into the mattress like it’s their only business with you. You know it’s not, but right now, it’s all you want from them; to take and take and take.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Dragon Skin

Summary: Azula discovers that she has dragon blood when her skin begins turning blue.

It is a small splotch on her right hand, one that she mistakes for a smear of paint. It very well could have been a smear of paint, except that it doesn’t rub away when she runs her finger over it. It doesn’t wash away no matter how much soap she scrubs into it. And it is only getting bigger, spreading out like ink in water. 

Azula wears gloves now, golden in color and as lavish as her robes. But the gloves end at her wrists and the blue is creeping up her arm. She clutches her afflicted hand to her chest and winces–her stomach is queasy. 

What’s wrong with her?

Why is this happening to her?

Everyone already thought that she was a monster, they are only just getting over that and now she is becoming a monster of some sort or another. And in the most literal sense this time around. 

She tears off the glove and begins another round of useless scrubbing. She rubs until her blue skin breaks. 

She still bleeds red. 

She places her back against the wall and slumps to the floor. Perhaps she should just light her hand a blaze. It might hurt horrifically, it might come out blistered, blacked, and ugly but at least burns are normal. At least they aren’t freakish. They are extremely common in the Fire Nation, really she can’t name one person who doesn’t have at least one small burn from some bending related accident or crime. 

She holds her strange hand up in front of her face, the blue stains have reached her elbow. She closes her eyes and inhales. Exales. Inhales…

She does so five times over and lights a fire in her left hand. Is flicks and licks in the same shade as her skin. 

She hovers her shaking hand over that flame, anxious tears streaming down her face. The heat is intense and she hasn’t yet plunged her hand into it. She takes another deep exhale and…

She loses her nerve. 

The fire dies in her hand and she flops fully to the floor as the adrenaline vaccats her. She lies there, body trembling, tears flowing. Her blue fingers brush against the carpet fibers. Tears drip from her nose and leave wet circles. 

By the next afternoon the blue has reached her neck. It has also claimed her right side and breast and parts of her belly and lower back. She buries herself in layers and high collared dresses. She masks her dread beneath a bravado of cockiness. Beneath, she feels like an abomination, some freakish creature caught between human and beast. 

“Are you alright, Azula?” Tylee asks. 

“I’m fine.” She replies stiffly. 

The acrobat knows her well enough to know that this is absolutely not true. To know that she is stressed and anxious and on edge. She is almost certain that everyone is aware. She gets snappy and cold when she is afraid. 

They just can’t place what is bothering her so very much. 

And she thinks of sharing. 

Thinks of just tearing off the gloves, thrusting her hand into the Avatar’s face, and demanding answers. Instead she holds her hand to her chest, feeling the burn of blue beneath. 

.oOo.

It has been a while since he has seen Azula. A strange thing considering that she hasn’t left the palace. He has seen her in the library on several occasions–in fact this is where Sokka has the most run-ins with her. 

The last he’d seen of the princess she had been almost frantically tearing up the library. He is worried that she is in one of her states, although she is rather adamant that, that had been a one off thing. A fluke brought on by  particularly intense amounts of stress. 

Before he knows it, he finds himself standing before her bedroom door. She doesn’t answer him but he can hear her walking. And he lets her know as much. He talks and talks until finally she cracks the door open. Just ever so slightly. “What do you want, Sokka?” 

“I want to make sure that you’re okay.” He says quietly.

“I’m fine.” And the door begins to close. Against his better judgment, he jams his foot in the door. “Sokka, go away.” 

“You haven’t left your bedroom in days.”

“That isn’t your problem, now is it.”

“Well, see, I’m a happy guy. I don’t have any problems of my own so, I’ll make this my problem.”

“You’re an idiot.” 

“And you’re not getting off that easily.” He pries the door open just enough to squeeze himself through. Of course he manages to face plant at Azula’s feet in the attempt. He expects to hear that dainty little snicker. Expects to look up and see a smug smirk. 

She has her back to him when he rises. 

He rests a hand on her shoulder, intent on turning her around to face him. “Azula?” Her body goes rigid and he attempts to turn her around but she holds her posture firm. “Azula, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Leave me alone.” 

“I can tell that this isn’t nothing.” He can see it in her stance. It is both timid and cagey. She has all of this space and she is giving off an air of someone trapped within tiny confines. “I’d like to help you.” 

“You can’t.” She replies quietly.

“That’s what you said the last time and look; you have friends and new hobbies and…”

“And I’m going to lose all of it.” She whispers. “Just like the last time.”

“Why do you think that?” Without thinking, he pulls her into a hug. 

“Sokka, leave me alone.”

“Do you really want to be alone, Azula?” He asks. “Because every other time you’ve said that you ended up caving and demanding that someone go and comfort you.” Really it was more of a begging but he knows that she hates it when he says so. Her silence is answer enough. He sighs. Since she won’t turn around and face him, he opts to walk in front of her. 

She cringes and her head dips. Her hair falls into her face and she makes no move to brush it aside. But he does and she cringes when he has it back over her shoulder. She doesn’t look him in the eyes–no, hers are downcast and fixed on the floor. 

And he understands very well, what is troubling her. Her eyes squeeze shut and she grits her teeth, he knows that look. He intertwines their fingers. 

.oOo.

Azula finds herself feeling quite dizzy; he doesn’t leave her. It doesn’t make sense but he is still in the room with her. Not just in the room with her but scooping her up and carrying her to her bed. He carefully lays her down and begins rubbing her back. 

“What’s happening to me, Sokka?” 

“I–I’m not sure.” 

“I’ve looked through everything.” She mumbles. “There’s nothing in the library…” She clutches the excess fabric of her pillow. “I don’t know what I did. I–I don’t think that I did anything. I never dabbled with spirit vines.”

“Spirit vines?”

She nods. “All of the scrolls I’ve read indicated adverse reactions to interacting with sprit vines. But I’ve never…” she swallows. “I haven’t even been anywhere with spirit vines.” Unless juice or sap or some other sort of spirit vine extract has been slipped into her drinks or meals.

“Have you asked Aang?”

“I haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Why not?” He sputters. 

“Would you be comfortable trotting merrily down the hall with blue skin?!” She snaps. “People already think that I’m a monster.”

Sokka pats the back of her calf. “Nobody thinks that, Azula. You’re the only one who says that.” 

“Well they will think so now.” 

“I don’t think so.” He smiles. 

Azula rolls onto her back and rubs her hands, her strange blue hands, over her face, holds them over her eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me, Sokka.”

“I’m not!” I swears. “I think that it’s kind of neat actually. Blue looks good on you, it’s always been your color. It’s like a trademark”

“The color of my fire. The trademark of my fire. Not me.” Her hands muffle her voice.

He shrugs. “Well I think that it looks nice.”

“You have wrong opinions.” 

Sokka laughs. “If you say so.”

.oOo.

Azula gives another shaky sigh and she lets him take her hands. Finally she looks up.

And finally he sees those eyes.

Dragon eyes.

There is still something in them, a spark, a something that is unmistakably Azula. His lips part and he is speechless just long enough for her to grow uncomfortable and distraught again. Until he mumbles, “Azula, I think that I know what’s happening to you.” 

“And what’s that?” She asks in a near whisper. 

“Aang’s new Avatar mission involves dragons.”

“What’s that got to do with me, Sokka.” She sits herself up and sighs. 

“Everything!” He says a bit too loudly, a touch too suddenly. He apologizes at her flinch. “So, there’s this rumor about dragons coming back. About people who were dragons in a past life.”

“Well I’m not a dragon in this life.”

“Not yet.” He shrugs. He doesn’t know what to make of her expression at the suggestion. There is a degree of intrigue within that look of terror. A dash of excitement underneath that anxiety.

“I–I want to be a human being, Sokka.” 

“That’s not what you said last month.” He shrugs. “You said that you wished that you were a dragon so that you could just fly away when people tried to hold you down.”

“I didn’t think…”

He pulls her into a hug. “Look, human or dragon or something in between, you still have me. You still have all of us.” He kisses the top of her head. “Okay?”

“Okay.” She mumbles into his shirt. 

“Now are we going to show you off to everyone else yet or do you still need a moment?”

“I suppose that we should just get it over with.”

Sokka grins and gives her a good pat on the back. “That’s the spirit! Trust me, everything will work out just fine.”

[littledead-ridinghood]

Hi! 💜 if you’d like, please list 5 things that make you happy, then put the same message in ten people's askbox. You don’t have to, it’s up to you!

💖

1. Literal absolute strangers complimenting each other because they just happened to notice something and they love it too much to not let the other person know (an off shoot of this would be when you compliment a person’s outfit and they either look down to remember what they’re wearing or doing the little leg kick shimmy thing to show it off)

2. Fairy lights, Christmas lights, any kind of string lights. Very soft and comforting. They’re so aesthetic to me, and I bitch about light pollution all the time irl, but also seeing apartment buildings all lit up, especially soft windows of rainbows, is so goddamn pleasing. Like yes! Live your own, deep, personal life building of people I’m walking past! Every person has a story and that’s what those remind me of. I think Aristotle Roufanis work is the best example of how string lights make me feel. He’s a photographer how takes photos at night to turn light polluted spaces into a slumber of darkness sometimes scatter around windows of lights in apartment windows.

Examples!!! It’s just…those are people!!! With lives!!!

3. Sun bathing like a cat. Laying in the heat with no responsibilities is so fulfilling. It’s just me, my ears buds, the sun’s rays, and my cats constantly bonking me because they want attention or are just laying next to me

4. Rebirth metaphors and religious allusions. I am in no way, shape, or form religious, but god do I eat it up every time. Like yes you’re a twisted version of all things thought to be whole, an abomination birthed in depravity and blasphemy, a tragedy of what was thought to be the leading light. You’re screwed for the rest of your life and it’s not even your fault but you’re trying to breach back into the living world. I love a good dead body; they get me so psyched.

5. Those bedrooms that are heavily decorated. Posters, vinyls, art work, etc hang on the wall. Colorful painted walls. Little Knick knacks and whatever on the shelves are dressers. Common phrase: “it makes a house, a home”. Like it just gives it character and personality. That eccentricity that really shows off who a person is. Color is so important to me, especially because I’m a kinda depressive person. It’s my silver lining. One of those things that purposefully brings life into your vicinity

Thanks!!!

[thoseweredaysofroses]

The Boat Chronicles Pt. 1

Somewhere in 2014

My sister is sitting on the front stoop, watching two year old Sofia play in the yard; she turns her head as I walk outside, and she knows. I don’t know what my face looks like, but she knows.

“You bought a boat, huh?”

“Yup.”

“The pirate ship?”

“Yeah.”

I’m still in shock, but my brain is already beginning to process what it all means. The musical equipment that’s been sitting in the hall closet for years, collecting dog fur, will be the first of many casualties, destined to be packed in the trunk of that old reliable Camry, trooped over the bridge to Guitar Center, and sold to finish paying for the boat. Then comes the garage sale, and the massive exodus of three years worth of accumulated stuff, that will leave a pile small enough to pack around the kid and the pets in the poor old Camry that would see us through so much. The last few bags of clothing fit nicely beneath the canoe we strap to the roof, and an entire life (seven lives, actually) crams itself into a four door sedan, yet again, and begins the overnight drive to Charleston, to a fresh start.

We would arrive around four in the morning, when the mist over the harbor lends everything it touches an air of magic, of promise. We have no idea what we are getting ourselves into.

I will never get over that mist, that city; or that boat. They will follow me wherever I go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t remember the first time it occurs to me that we’ve made a poor decision, but all of the times involve rain where it shouldn’t be.

Maybe it’s the first weekend, visiting with my sister, Sofias third birthday. It begins to rain, and we quickly realize how leaky wooden boats can be, as we scramble to find enough pots and pans to collect it all. Maybe it’s when the garbage bag I’ve taped up to keep the rain off my face while I sleep suddenly breaks in the middle of the night, pouring icy water directly into my ear. Or maybe it’s when the locker under the cockpit fills with water, unbeknownst to us, and finally gives up, pouring a literal waterfall into our living space. Who knows when the doubts begin to creep in, but no worries, nothing we can’t fix. I would sing it to myself near constantly during that time, and the ensuing eight years: “Don’t worry, about a thing, cos every little thing’s gonna be alright”. And it will be alright, but it will not be easy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you know that boats of a certain age just pump their toilets directly overboard? Me neither, at least not until I find myself the proud owner of a “boat of a certain age”. So our first boat project involves removing the old toilet (or in boat terms, the head), and replacing it with the cheapest temporary solution: a cassette toilet. This means emptying the thing every damn night, but at least I don’t have to walk the quarter mile to the bathrooms in the middle of the night, with a cranky toddler in tow, for more than a few days. It also means that when, after only a couple short weeks of living aboard full time, I find myself pregnant, I will experience the absolute worst morning sickness of my life. Between that abominable toilet and the rocking of the boat, at times gentle and at times so jarring I wonder that our poor sailboat doesn’t rattle herself apart, I would spend most of my mornings those first months so sick I could barely function, let alone keep down any food, while also solely responsible for the kid and the pets.

Kids still need to eat, even when their Mom feels like the very incarnation of death; dogs still need to be walked, fuel for heat still needs to be sourced, laundry still needs to be dragged down to the facilities. I do it all, and with the full understanding that this is the life I have chosen, I bear it with as much grace as any newly pregnant person can muster. That said, when our tax refund manages to pay for a composting head, I can honestly say I have never been happier about a toilet in my life. (Foreshadowing: I would be equally delirious with joy about toilets multiple times over the course of the years, a feeling generally followed rather quickly by despair, as any boater will tell you there is literally no perfect solution for shitting in such a confined space.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in 2021

There’s a cold wind here tonight; it howls like an ornery ghost through the rigging, as it hurls paint dust into the air, and fails completely in making everything fresh and new. The boatyard is going to eat me alive. I can feel it gnawing away at my gristle and my sanity, bit by bit, even as the end inches closer. And the door slams, gently and more forcefully in turn. And the rustling leaves of the tomato plant dying in the cockpit, and the humming crickets, occasional bullfrogs, crunching gravel as a car drives by. These are the sounds of this place, where I have lived for nearly two years now. And all the while growing increasingly George Bailey about the whole ordeal. And god if it doesn’t sometimes feel like I’ll never shake the dust of this damn place off my feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in 2015

It takes me some time to grow brave enough to venture too far into Charleston, terrified of getting lost, and even more of driving over the Ravenel Bridge, but when I do finally attempt the thing, I find it to be well worth my time. After that, Sofia and I spend our days exploring the city, eating gelato in the park while we watch the boats go by, blasting The Pogues as we drive to Sullivans Island for yet another winter beach walk, throwing stranded starfish back into the water at Folly Beach, wandering along all those old cobbled streets downtown, and generally taking it all in. The hot tub at the marina provides a perfect activity right at home too, we are so happy during that honeymoon time, it’s still easy to ignore the hard parts. I often wonder if I will ever love another city the way I loved Charleston in the winter.

The cracks start to show as the boat work becomes more reality than dream, as my pregnancy necessitates a reassessment of our budget, as all the ways we don’t understand the norms and mores of marina life begin to add up. We are in over our heads, but too proud to admit it, and to some degree, it feels as though we no longer have a choice. The only way out is through.

To be continued…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[riotwritesthings]

Location Matters

WinterIron, E, 2.6k - PWP, semi-public sex, anal fingering, begging, dirty talk, edging, orgasm delay

Ayyy welcome to the first day of Smutober! Yes that’s right, I’m going with Smutober, Kinktober didn’t quite feel right when I’m much more focused on just writing smut than getting through a list of unique kinks. And I’m not following any prompt list at all, just my heart. And I have no idea how many fics I’ll actually be able to get out this month, I have been having a Bad Brain Time, as the kids say, but I’m gonna do what I can and it’s better than nothing right?! Anywho I’m here to break rules and write smut so lets get to it!!

~~~

“Please,” Tony sobs as he arches his back harder, fingers scrabbling at the shelves in front of him and he really can’t bring himself to care about the several packets of pasta that go tumbling to the ground.

Even if he didn’t consider dry pasta a terrible abomination, Tony has way better things to focus on anyways. Like the solid line of heat that is Bucky pressed in close against him, pinning Tony securely between Bucky’s broad chest and the corner of the shelves as two of Bucky’s calloused fingers slowly press into him.

Tony knows they’re being more than a little ridiculous. They are grown adults with their own bedroom, but here they are in the common kitchen of the compound, barely hidden away in the walk-in pantry with Bucky’s hand shoved down his pants like horny teenagers. He can feel Bucky’s cock nudging hard and thick against the back of his thigh and Tony is well on his way to fully hard himself, rocking back against Bucky’s hand and trying to force him to move faster.

“Fuck, I- you- I need—“ Tony gasps out, voice breaking off into a moan when Bucky’s fingers press a little deeper. His grip on the shelves slips again as he can’t decide between turning to face Bucky or just trying to force himself back onto Bucky’s fingers, trying to get more, and Tony ends up just kind of twitching and thrashing in place.

“Patience, baby,” Bucky rumbles, his lips moving over the skin beneath Tony’s ear and that’s probably Tony’s least favorite thing to hear but oh he loves the way Bucky says it, low and rumbling and burning with intensity.

Bucky shifts his wrist a little and it works Tony’s worn pajamas down a little lower past the curve of his ass, but not enough to free his cock from the clinging fabric. When Tony rocks his hips in place, trying get any friction, or Bucky’s fingers pressing into him deeper, or anything, all he gets is the faint drag of soft flannel over his leaking cock. Tony lets out a desperate groan and tries to buck his hips harder, but Bucky just moves with him, not letting Tony have more than the not-enough stretch of two of Bucky’s fingertips barely working him open. Which, after Bucky thoroughly fucked him into the couch earlier today, it’s not nearly enough.

“What do you mean patience, we are in the kitchen,” Tony finally manages to get out, and his voice might be rough and breathy but he still thinks it’s a decent point.

Sure, it was some ungodly hour of the morning when they finished their latest Star Trek binge and first stumbled down here looking for snacks, but Tony has honestly lost track of time entirely at this point. He has no idea how long it’s been since Bucky kicked the pantry door shut behind them and crowded Tony up against the shelves and or all he knows the damn early birds in the house will be along any second, yanking the door open looking for the pancake mix or something and getting a whole-ass eyeful. Literally.

But in the next second all thought is pushed from Tony’s mind when Bucky’s fingers finally press deeper, nudging over his prostate as they twist inside him. Tony had more good points to make, he swears he did, but he forgets all of them as Bucky begins to finger him in earnest, pressing kisses to Tony’s throat and mouthing filthy paise into his skin, bringing Tony right up to the edge with the almost brutal efficiency that he’s basically perfected.

“’S this what you wanted, baby? Want me to really work you open, make you feel it?” Bucky demands roughly, his lips sliding up to Tony’s jaw and all Tony can manage is a shaking whine, trying desperately to shove himself back onto Bucky’s fingers. “Yeah, always take it so fuckin’ sweet, feel so perfect wrapped around me, clenching an’ shakin’, still tryin’ to fuck yourself back on my fingers even when you can’t barely move.”

As if to prove his point Bucky presses Tony in harder against the shelves, pinning him in place as every twist and thrust of Bucky’s fingers set off new shockwaves of pleasure through Tony’s whole body, pushing him higher. Bucky alternates between deep thrusts that make Tony ache for more and relentless jabs to his prostate that are driving Tony out of his mind.

“Please, please,” Tony begs, shaking as Bucky’s fingers stroke over his prostate again, tension winding tighter in his gut and he’s so close. He’s sobbing out every breath as Bucky’s fingers bear down harder and Tony clenches around them, arching back into the pressure as his balls draw up tight and the knot of pleasure inside him twists tighter, tighter—

And then Bucky’s fingers disappear, withdrawing from him entirely and Tony is left dangling right at the edge without anything to push him over, clenching around nothing and feeling so empty. He can’t even rock his hips in place for the light drag of his pajamas over his cock, Bucky’s free hand tight on his hip to hold him in place and it only accentuates the waves of pleasure still sparking along Tony’s nerves, not quite enough.

“What the fuck,” Tony groans, “you hate me, you hate me and you want me to die like this, is that it?!”

“Tha’s what you always say when I try to take my time with you,” Bucky points out with a low, rumbling laugh as he drags his fingers too-lightly over Tony’s loose hole.

“And I’m still convinced it’s true!” Tony replies, his voice caught somewhere between a snap and a whine. He has more to say, but he’s interrupted by Bucky pressing back into him with three fingers this time, stretching him that little bit wider and he’s so loose, so desperate, that there’s not even a burn. All Tony feels is the stretch of it as Bucky’s fingers sink all the way into him, until Tony can feel him everywhere.

Bucky’s fingers thrust in and out of him in an unsteady rhythm, working him up without ever giving him enough to push him to the edge again and Tony buries his face in his folded arms to try and muffle the sob that bursts out of him. His legs are doing nothing to support him at this point, it’s only Bucky’s hand on his hip and Bucky’s chest pressed flush against his shoulder blades and Bucky’s fingers buried deep inside him, holding him up and taking him apart.

He can’t think past the waves of pleasure that rush through him every time Bucky just barely nudges his prostate, the shudders that run through him when Bucky withdraws his fingers just enough to tug at his stretched rim, making sure Tony feels it. And just when Tony thinks the knot in his gut can’t wind any tighter, that he’s about to come with nothing more than the maddeningly inconsistent press and twist of Bucky’s thick fingers inside him, playing with him, the pressure abruptly disappears and leaves him achingly empty.

“Oh, you absolute bastard,” Tony groans, thunking his head against the shelf in front of him and then sucking in a sharp breath when Bucky laughs roughly and drags his fingertips in light circles around Tony’s hole. “Would you just-“ Tony cuts off into a breathy whine when Bucky’s fingers just barely start to press into him again, trying to arch his back harder like he can force Bucky’s fingers back inside him despite the way Bucky has him thoroughly pinned in place, completely helpless as Bucky’s fingers continue dragging wetly around and around his clenching hole, until Tony’s every breath is coming out as a pleading whine.

When Bucky finally pushes his fingers back in he does it slowly, so slowly, making sure Tony can feel every shift and press, working him back right back to the edge with steady, inescapable thrusts of his fingers and then pushing him higher. Until Tony has no idea how he hasn’t already broken and he can’t even try to rock back into it anymore, can’t move, can only take it.

“Fuck, love the way you shake for me,” Bucky growls, all hot breath and teeth against the line of Tony’s throat as he crooks his fingers a little harder, and then has to crowd in against Tony a little more to help keep him upright as Tony’s legs give out entirely.

Tony’s legs might be useless noodles at this point but that doesn’t stop them from shaking with overstimulation, his hips jerking and twitching in place with every deep press of Bucky’s fingers. Tony’s entire body is shaking like he’s been hit with a live wire and he’s crying out every breath, his fingers going numb from how tightly he’s gripping the edge of the shelf.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this, blissed out an’ shaking’ with it, can barely even hold yourself up,” Bucky growls, pressing down harder on Tony’s prostate and Tony’s entire body jolts hard, his hands sliding off the shelf and his bare feet sliding against the floor.

After a second of scrambling Tony manages to cross his arms across the shelf, burying his face against his forearms to try and muffle his wail. Partially because he’s so close and fuck Tony might just die if they get interrupted before Bucky finally lets him cum, if it’s not soon, and also because he doesn’t want to miss the honestly filthy words spilling out of Bucky’s mouth.

“C’mon sugar, wanna feel you come on my fingers,” Bucky says, a low rumbling growl against the curve of Tony’s shoulder, “always clench down so damn tight around me, sound so gorgeous, wanna hear you sobbin’ for me.” He thrusts his fingers in hard again and then twists, stretching Tony’s loose rim a little more and even that is enough to have Tony’s entire body jolting, another ragged cry tearing out of him. “Fuckin’ love this, don’t you baby?” Bucky demands roughly, “bein’ worked open and stuffed full? Pinned and helpless an’ just takin it, lettin’ me play with you however I want until you’re beggin’ for it just- like- this?”

The final couple words are punctuated with a too-brief drag of Bucky’s fingertips over his prostate, sending bolts of pleasure through him that are right on the edge of too-much and god it’s not enough. Tony is only vaguely aware that he’s trying to beg, but keeping track of the broken attempts at words and ragged sounds spilling past his slack lips is far less important than the sensations rushing through him.

Tony would much rather focus on trying to shove himself back to meet the press of Bucky’s fingers, no matter how little he’s actually accomplishing, right up until Bucky presses in impossibly closer and Tony is left completely immobile. Bucky’s metal fingers disappear from his hip to instead tangle in his hair, yanking Tony’s head back with one hard tug and Tony has no hope of muffling or containing the loud cry that escapes him. All he knows is the deep, insistent press of Bucky inside him, the burning pleasure and ache as his spine is pulled into a sharp arch and Bucky’s fingers seem to press impossibly deeper.

“Fuck-“ Tony chokes out, panting brokenly for air and then whining when even that simple motion lights up his entire body, like he’s just one giant struck nerve and his face is wet with sweat or tears or both as he finally manages to gasp out “please—“

“I can feel how fucking close you are, sweet thing, how much you need it,” Bucky says, lips trailing up Tony’s neck and when Tony tries to wiggle in his hold, to rock himself down onto Bucky’s fingers, anything, Bucky’s teeth catch at the corner of his jaw to hold him in place. “Don’t you wanna come for me baby?” Bucky demands once Tony goes relatively still in his hold, hard tremors still running through him as Bucky’s fingers continue to thrust and press and twist inside him. “Don’t you wanna make a fuckin’ mess of yourself for me? Let me watch you wobble back to our room, legs still shaking’ and cum coolin’ on your skin, flushed and dazed and gorgeous, wanna let me lick you clean and put you to bed still sloppy and reekin’ like sex?”

“I- I- ahh—“ Tony wants to say that god does he want that, he’s so close, but every drag of Bucky’s fingers is melting every thought out of his head and Tony is nearly screaming out every exhale and he can’t stop, shaking too hard to properly fuck himself back onto Bucky’s hand and fuck he’s so close—

“C’mon Tony, give it to me,” Bucky snarls, rocking his hips against Tony and circling his fingers hard over Tony’s prostate and that’s it.

Tony’s loud cry cuts off as his voice breaks, and instead he’s left making hoarse, breathy noises as he comes, wave after wave of pleasure rushing over him, dragging him under. He can barely hear anything past his own pulse throbbing in his ears, his orgasm dragging on and on with every relentless shove of Bucky’s fingers still working into him until Tony’s brain finally whites out to the sound of his own hitching, wailing moan.

When Tony zones back in, both of Bucky’s arms are wound around his waist, holding him steady as Tony continues twitching with fading aftershocks. His pants are back in place, although the front of them is indeed a mess of his own cooling cum, and Tony has to forcibly remind himself why just falling asleep right here is a bad idea.

And it’s not because he can feel Bucky’s cock still pressed hard and warm against his hip, no matter how distracting of a realization that is.

“What time is it?” Tony asks roughly, because his mind might be a little (a lot) blown, and he really wants to do something about the way Bucky is rocking minutely against him while he lets Tony catch his breath, but not as much as Tony wants to not get another lecture about public indecency. It always makes him feel a little too much like he’s back in college.

There’s a tellingly long silence before Bucky clears his throat and says, “Uh… we should probably get back to our own room pretty soon.”

The hoarse, gravely sound of Bucky’s voice has heat valiantly trying to swell in Tony’s gut again, but Tony forces himself to focus on arguing “You should probably carry me back to our room, because what even are legs. I don’t think I have them, I certainly cannot feel them.”

Bucky laughs but seems all too happy to oblige in scooping Tony up off the ground, even if it is more in an up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes way than Tony would really prefer. He’s about to complain, but then Bucky’s hand settles over the curve of his ass and Tony decides he can live with it, and at least this will keep the rapidly cooling cum soaked through the front of his pajamas from rubbing against his skin.

It’s not until they’re in the elevator that Tony’s brain comes back online enough for him to remember all of Bucky’s filthy promises, and Tony grins at the small of Bucky’s back as he says, “I guess if you really want I’ll try wobbling around like a drunken baby giraffe when we reach our floor, but frankly I’m more invested in the ‘licking’ part of your plan.”

Bucky hums, equal parts amused and thoughtful, and Tony’s breath catches hard as Bucky shifts his grip a little, his fingers easily dipping between Tony’s cheeks through his thin pajamas.

[firelxdykatara]

ppl love to forget that katara: 1. has her own taste, 2. developed around aang, he needed her for his development and vice versa, 3. ZUTARA IS SHIP BETWEEN AN OPPRESOR X OPPRESSED!!! Ignoring all of the development they had with their respective partners and the trauma Zuko caused Katara!!

In the infamous words of one Luke Skywalker: amazing. every word of what you just said was wrong.

It’s actually kind of ironic that you bring up Katara’s taste, since, throughout the show, we have examples of the guys she likes, to greater or lesser extents in canon--Jet (explicit romantic feelings on her part, word of god that jet was her first kiss--a kiss that would have been consensual, incidentally, something you should keep in mind for later) and Haru (she denies the crush, but that could just as easily have been because of the abomination he’d been growing on his lip rather than denying those feelings ever existed), both of whom have much more in common (in terms of both emotional and physical maturity, and physical appearance) with Zuko than either of them has with Aang.

Zuko’s book 3 hairstyle is almost exactly reminiscent of Jet’s, even, if not quite as floofy.

(This is probably in part because of Jet’s function as a foil of Zuko within the narrative, particularly given their book 2 encounters, which I think just further solidifies my point that, were it not for extenuating circumstances [like the fact that Zuko was introduced as an enemy and they had significant obstacles to hurdle before they could be friends], Zuko would have been exactly Katara’s type. Had they met under different circumstances, she could have been the girl he went on a date with in Ba Sing Se. Just something to think about.)

So, yes, we’ve established that Katara has her own taste. Her tastes seem to be boys with great hair who are taller than her, the same age or older, and of a similar maturity level.

Aang falls short (heh, short) on all counts. So it isn’t Katara’s taste in boys that led her to be interested in him. Hm!

Next, you claim that Katara ‘developed around Aang’--that she was necessary for his development, and that he was necessary for hers.

Let’s take a moment to examine that, shall we?

I will absolutely grant you that Katara was necessary for Aang’s development--only to a point, of course, but we’ll get to that later--but was he really necessary for Katara‘s growth? I suppose I could grant you this on a generous technicality--he did, after all, provide her with the means to finally leave the South Pole and find a waterbending master to teach her (although she wound up largely self-taught anyway). But that had nothing to do with his relationship to Katara and everything to do with the structure of the plot--Katara and Sokka find Aang (and he never would have gotten out of that iceberg without Katara’s own righteous anger, so even that leads back to her own power), and then they go on a quest to find teachers for the Chosen One and save the world.

The story could not have begun without first finding Aang and then providing means for the other main characters to travel with him (or, in Zuko’s case, chase him), but this has nothing at all to do with Aang’s relationship to Katara. Aang was not a mover in Katara’s developmental arc--if anything, he acted as an obstacle more often than not, his actions ranging from innocent but obnoxious (playing and flirting with girls rather than helping with chores like picking up vital supplies, leaving Katara to do all of the quite literal heavy lifting and keeping her stuck in the role of caretaker that she’d been thrust into following the death of her mother), to deliberate and harmful (hiding the map to Katara and Sokka’s father, a truly selfish action, regardless of his lack of malicious intent, and one for which he never actually apologized), to somewhere in between (”she didn’t really mean that” he says to the man refusing to train Katara because she’s a girl, when yes, she very much did mean that, and Aang was no help in finally getting the old codger to eat his words--Katara had to shove them down his throat her own damn self).

While Katara’s overall arc wasn’t exactly big and dynamic (like Zuko’s redemption arc), or in-your-face (like Sokka getting force-fed Respect Women Juice and his eventual growth into a tactician and leader), it was very much present and woven into her character--and Aang had almost no part in it. He provided her with the means to get to the North Pole, but left Katara alone to fight the patriarchy herself. He messed around while Katara took it on herself to do the chores and keep the Gaang alive, but he did almost nothing to decrease that burden so she could grow out of the caretaker role. (Contrary to popular shipper claims, Aang didn’t actually teach Katara to have fun. She already knew how to have fun. But she couldn’t indulge, because she had a responsibility to her family and her tribe, and later to her brother and Aang and Toph, and Aang goofing off and trying to get her to do the same only added to her burdens rather than subtracting from them.) He provided Katara with the necessary motive to learn to heal herself, but he certainly didn’t seem to learn from the experience of accidentally burning her, preferring instead to claim he was never going to firebend again, despite already knowing, at that point, that he was going to need to master fire along with the other elements to become a fully realized Avatar and defeat the Firelord.

He didn’t help Katara keep them alive during The Desert. (In fact, he ran off, leaving her to desperately try to keep Sokka and Toph from succumbing to the heat while worrying for his safety.) In The Painted Lady, Katara makes the decision to stall the Gaang and do what she can to help the Fire Nation villagers on her own--Aang agrees to help her when he finds out, but he wasn’t actually instrumental in her making that choice. The Puppetmaster was, again, Katara finding a master of her own, and having to deal with the fallout from that. And in The Southern Raiders, Aang was--perhaps unknowingly, if I’m being generous, because he is a child and could not reasonably be expected to fully understand the implications of what he was asking her to do or why it was impossible--actively impeding Katara’s development! She desperately needed closure, something he could not understand and actively belittled and dismissed. The only reason he relented in the end (but not without a condescending ‘I forgive you! Does that give you any ideas???’ parting shot lmao) was because Katara was planning to take Appa anyway, and letting her go (and hoping she’d just magically wind up doing things his way) was easier than trying to fight her on it.

While Aang’s existence was necessary for Katara to start down her own path, she needed neither his guidance nor his approval to follow it--and absolutely nothing would change about Katara’s arc if you removed their romantic relationship entirely.

Possibly because the only changes needed to do so would be to remove the two times Aang kissed Katara without her consent (which, hopefully, no one would actually miss), and the epilogue kiss (which was awkward and unnecessary to begin with, since ending the entire show on a romantic kiss as the final shot kind of missed the point of the story to begin with, but that’s another discussion). None of these kisses (which are the only moments in which Katara’s feelings for Aang are so much as addressed; do note that addressing them, or hinting that they needed to be, is not the same as saying she exhibited any sign of reciprocating them) altered anything about Katara’s behavior, her personal arc, or (and perhaps most critically) her relationship with Aang.

It’s that last point that is really damning, as far as ‘Katara obviously had feelings for Aang, she kissed him in the finale!’ goes. Because she didn’t ‘obviously’ have feelings for him. And the fact that he kissed her before the invasion and then she forgot about it (she literally had no idea what he was talking about during the play’s intermission until he reminded her that he’d kissed her) is pretty clear evidence that she didn’t actually have feelings for him. Not the kind he had for her.

I’ve been a teenage girl. I know what it’s like to be surprise!kissed by your crush. And I absolutely for a full fact know that I had not completely forgotten about that kiss three months later and had, in fact, spent most of my waking hours thinking about it and remembering it and trying to talk to him about it. Now, granted, I was not in the middle of a war, but even if I had been, I doubt I would have needed reminding about the fact that the boy I’ve supposedly been developing feelings for had kissed me and showed clearly that he had those feelings for me too.

At the very least, if Katara was harboring feelings that she was worried about approaching until after the war, her relationship dynamic with Aang should have shifted. But it didn’t. She acted the exact same way with him after the Day of Black Sun as she did before it--that is, as a mother figure and a caretaker, responsible for his wellbeing. (And it’s clear she never took him down off the pedestal she needed him to occupy, either--let it not be said that the unhealthy aspects of their relationship only went one way.)

And book 3 is, incidentally, where Katara went from being vital to Aang’s development to being detrimental to it--or, rather, Aang’s refusal to let go of his attachment to her (despite ostensibly having done as much at the end of book 2) was. Because despite having been told by, perhaps, the greatest authority left in the world on Air Nomad culture (even more than Aang, who had left his temple with a child’s understanding of his culture that was never able to mature because he got stuck in the ice berg while his people were wiped out) that he had to let go of his possessive attachment to this girl who never even expressed the possibility that she might harbor romantic feelings for him to begin with, after Azula killed him and Katara brought him back, he went right back into the mindset of Katara is mine, it’s just a matter of time.

And the narrative validated him for it.

Notice how, during Ember Island Players, Aang says the following (emphasis mine):

“We kissed at the invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we’re not.”

First of all, if you go back and watch the scene, it’s clear it wasn’t a mutual kiss. Aang sprang a surprise kiss on Katara, which left her shocked and unhappy after he flew off. (The decision to have her looking away and frowning was a deliberate one on the part of Bryke, who wanted Katara’s feelings kept ambiguous. Heaven forbid you allow the animators to make it clear that this fourteen-year-old girl who was just kissed without her consent by someone she’d never once demonstrated romantic feelings toward might actually have some. Heaven forbid she have a little agency in her own romantic narrative. But whatever.)

Second, he says he thought they were gonna be together.

He thought.

He never once even asked Katara what she thought--or even how she felt. He just assumes. He assumes that if he kisses her, she’ll kiss him back and they’ll get together. He assumes that she must have feelings for him, even though her body language is closed off and she told him with her words that she did not want to talk or think about this right now, and kisses her regardless of those signals, upsetting her and leading her to storm off.

And the narrative rewards him, because despite the fact that they don’t have a single significant scene together after that second disastrous kiss, Katara just decides off-screen that she Does Love Him Really and walks onto the balcony to make out with him.

The upshot of all this being that, while Katara was indeed instrumental to a lot of Aang’s early growth and development, Aang was not necessary for her own arc, and their romantic relationship (such as it was) actively hampered Aang’s development in book 3, while removing it would change absolutely nothing for Katara (except saving her from some painfully embarrassing memories).

As far as your third point, I’m simply not going to get baited into explaining how reducing Zutara to an ‘oppressor/oppressed’ relationship is not only insulting to interracial couples irl (not to mention any other couple with a potentially unbalanced dynamic of societal power, since there are many more axis of oppression than just racial), but demeaning to Zuko and Katara, their personal arcs as well as their relationship development together.

However, I will point out that Zuko was not responsible for any of Katara’s trauma. She did not find violence and fighting in bending battles to be traumatic--in fact, she reveled in it. She enjoyed fighting against Zuko at multiple points (especially noticeable in their battle at the end of book 1), because she wanted to fight--she always had--and once she had the ability, she was ready to throw down with anyone who gave her the slightest reason. (Including, by the way, her own potential waterbending master.) Aang’s death at the end of book 2 was Azula’s doing, and while I think that contributed to Katara’s extreme reaction to Zuko joining the gaang, it was not something for which she actively blamed him, and it wasn’t something she believed would be repeated--she let him go off alone on a journey to find the original firebending masters with Aang well before she chose to forgive him. So she already trusted Zuko’s intentions and that Aang would be safe with him.

Finally, because this has gotten long enough already, I hope you now understand that Zuko and Katara getting together would not require ignoring any of their development with their canonical romantic partners. We’ve already established that Katara’s arc wouldn’t change in the slightest if all of Aang’s romantic advances were removed, and I haven’t even gotten into how Mai meant nothing in the grand scheme of Zuko’s development because I’m pretty sure that’s just self-evident. I mean, the video compilation put together by Nick showcasing Zuko’s journey throughout the series doesn’t include a single scene with Mai, though it does include several with Katara, and even Jin makes an appearance--because Katara, and even Jin, played key roles in Zuko’s personal journey, while his relationship with Mai happened entirely off-screen and her only real function was to showcase just how unhealthy trying to force himself back into the role of the Crown Prince was for him.

What development, exactly, is there between them to even ignore?

At any rate, I’ve gone on long enough--I hope you enjoy the fact that you activated my wordvomit trap card right when i was about to go to bed, anon, because I just spent two hours writing this instead. In case you’re interested in the TL;DR: at the end of the day, there was no meaningful, mutual development in Kataang’s romantic relationship, and those romantic feelings that did exist were largely one-sided and ultimately detrimental to Aang’s development in the final third of his overall arc. Meanwhile, Mai meant nothing to Zuko’s journey--rather like Aang’s romantic overtures, she could be removed from the show completely and nothing about his story would change--while Zuko and Katara were both vital to each other’s overall storylines, arcs and development. This, coupled with the fact that Zuko never actually traumatized Katara and, in fact, helped her achieve closure from the biggest source of her own trauma, means that Zuko and Katara have better and more believable build up that could potentially lead to a romantic relationship than either of them have with their canon romantic partners.

So no, anon, I didn’t forget anything--I think you may have, though. Perhaps a rewatch is in order? Make sure not to close your eyes for the back half of book 3 this time.

[deejadabbles]

Vampire Atem/Yami Alphabet Headcanons

Found this list of vamp-themes headcanons by @an-annyeoing-writer and I knew I had to do them for our favorite king-turned-spirit!

For those of you who read my Spells of Defiance series, these headcanons can be taken as 100% canon to that AU <3

A - Accident - would they turn someone to save their life?

Oof, already starting with a hard one. So, Atem is one of those vampires who hates his existence, he believes it’s a curse. However, he does still love and care for people deeply, and he knows that for many, life is sacred even if it’s a cursed life. I think in a moment of weakness, especially in his earlier years as a vampire, he might turn someone just because he’s desperate not to lose them, only to regret his decision later, especially if that someone is like him and hates what they’ve become. We all make mistakes, right?

B - Bite - how do they bite? Sensually, aggressively? Do they make it hurt or try to be gentle?

Atem is extremely gentle when he feeds off of people, always careful not to bite too deep or tear the skin more than needed, he even holds you and tries to soothe you with gentle strokes of his hands. Now, whether he tries to make it “sensual” or at all sexual...that’s a complicated topic. While Atem is almost always disgusted with himself when/while he feeds, he does recognize that there is a level of intimacy and even romance that can be connected with drinking blood, so sometimes he can be persuaded to make it a more sensual thing if you’re his lover. 

C - Control - do they take advantage of their powers?

That depends on who’s in the equation. I can see Atem using his new powers in order to bring justice to those he sees as wrong doers (like his season 0/early manga-self) as a way to make his vampire abilities useful, so from that angle he would “take advantage” of his powers. He might even get some small gratification in using his strength and speed to hunt down evil people, them cowering in fear is retribution for their wrong-doings, but even that’s not too over the top. Other than that, no, he doesn’t really use his powers for advantages over others.

D - Dangerous - how scary they can get? How bad things can they do? What’s their ethics?

So, while Atem does have a very strong moral code, Atem also has a temper, and said temper might be harder to control when he’s a vampire. Even when he’s not growling in anger, he can have this cold glare that could make bikers squeamish. There are moments, especially when he was a younger vampire, where he loses his temper and can get pretty scary. If you’re his loved one don’t worry too much, he would never lose control enough to hurt you, even though his yelling (and maybe throwing a thing or two) is pretty scary on it’s own. If you’re someone he sees a vermin though watch out, when he gets scary you’re probably going to end up dead or wishing you were dead.

E - Exchange - do they opt for blood bags or animal blood, if possible?

He opts for animal blood as often as he can. Sometimes he’ll hunt said animals himself but even that is a little too violent for his liking (Atem is a softie okay?!) so if he can go to a local butcher and get animal blood from them he’ll do it that way. He’s not fond of blood bags because A) they’re harder to acquire and B) having human blood in a cold plastic bag just makes him long for warm human blood and skin under his teeth more. Sure animal blood isn’t as sustaining for him, but Atem spent decades (maybe even centuries) figuring out how much animal blood he needs to consume in order to keep his blood lust under control so he’ll choose that over harming an innocent human.

Also, side note, if you live with him I hope you don’t have a sensitive sense of smell, because he heats up the blood on the stove to make it taste better and it can make the house stinky lol

F - First bite - on what occasion would they bite you for the first time?

Oooh that’s a good one. Like I said Atem has a very complicated relationship with feeding from his loved ones, especially his s/o, and he’s never going to ask you for your blood. So I’d say that not only would you have to offer your blood to him, but he would have to be out of other feeding options at the time. He knows that once he reaches a certain point of hunger he loses control and might kill you in a hunger-induced blood rage, so if drinking from you now, before he gets to that point, prevents that danger, he’d be willing to. Like I said above, Atem would be very gentle with you on that occasion, holding you close and stroking the skin around the bite mark to soothe any pain, and when he’s done he’d kiss the wound and the sore skin around it as amends.

The only other “first bite” scenario I can think of is if you spend months convincing him that you don’t mind (or even like) the occasional bite and finally convince him to drink your blood during an intimate moment, and again he’s very gentle and mindful of not hurting you.

G - Growl - are they more on the “civilized” side or do they enjoy hunting their prey down?

A bit of both, I guess? Since he tries not to drink from humans he’s more civilized in that way, but like I said before he does “hunt” evil people like an avenging dark angel, which he may get some small form of enjoyment from, so... 

H - Hate - how do they feel about their kind? About themselves?

It’s honestly pretty depressing how much self-loathing Atem harbors. He genuinely thinks he’s an abomination. It doesn’t help that in all his centuries of living, he’s met very few vampires who’re “good” like him. He’s also someone who’s on a high horse and if he met a vamp who didn’t kill human’s but also wasn’t self loathing like him, he’d look down on said vampire. I’m warning you now if you fall in love with him, his self-hatred is very upsetting and can be hard to deal with.

I - Intimacy - how fast would they let you close to them? Would they want to share with you what they are?

Surprisingly, I say it’s not that hard. See, even though Atem thinks he’s a monster and tries his best to stay away from people, he also craves companionship and love. Sure, he’s spent several chunks of his immortal life isolating himself in remote woods and tall mountains for decades at a time, but he always returns to humanity at some point. So if you show that you want to be close to him he’ll try to warn you or even scare you away a bit, but it won’t take too long to let you in. And yes, he’d share what he is with you if you started to get close to him, not only as a means to scare you away “before he can hurt you” but also so you know what you’re getting into by being near him.

J - Joke - would they do pranks on other people with the use of their powers?

Sometimes, yes. If he’s close to you, he’ll start to get comfortable and like teasing you, so he’ll do minor things like sneak up behind you soundlessly and jump scare you, or zoom past you to get to something before you and play keep-away. Also, he doesn’t do this one intentionally, but sometimes he’ll be sitting in a dark room, and when you walk in you just suddenly hear this voice calling out to you in the darkness, scaring the crap outta you lol

K - Key - what’s the way of making them open up to you?

Honestly just...continue to shove your friendship in his face. Like I said under “intimacy” he still craves relationships and companionship despite how much he fears hurting people. He may try to push you away at first but if you just continue to hang around him he’ll eventually stop trying to scare you away and start opening up to you little by little.

L - Life - do they wish they were human?

Absolutely. I can see Atem, ever the fixer of problems, spending the first few hundred years searching for a cure for his “condition” not just for himself but for others who view vampires the same way. He often thinks about what his life would have been if he hadn’t been turned, and daydreams about the possibility of becoming human again. 

M - Murder - would they kill someone while feeding? Have they ever done so?

Atem has killed while feeding, yes, but not voluntarily. I’m going with the general lore that vampires, when starved too long, can't control their bloodlust and Atem has killed while in that state. When he wakes with a limp, lifeless body in his arms, he’s a devastated wreck. Hurting innocent people is literally his living nightmare and the idea that his bloodlust can turn him into an animal sickens him. He would spend decades learning how much blood he needs to consume and how often, in order to keep that bloodlust from taking control.

N - Nature - do they justify their doings? Do they consider them natural?

Atem, the self-loathing martyr of a fanged prince, considering his bloodlust natural? LMAOOOO No. No he doesn’t, nor does he ever justify his actions. In fact, he uses the terrible things he’s done to justify why he shouldn’t be loved or even alive.

O - Odd - do they have any specific hobbies or habits?

Our gentle dark prince still loves games and puzzles, I think he’d like modern brain teasers that keep his mind sharp and un-ironically loves the puzzle games printed on the back of sunday newspapers, even though they aren’t hard (for him anyway). If you got close to him and showed him games he never got to play bc they’re multiplayers he’d honestly love you. He’d win most of the time, let's be honest, especially things like Clue, but his expression is just so cute and excited when you play his favorites that you’d lose 1000 times over just to see it.

P - Pain - are they sadistic? Do they enjoy what they do?

Nope. I think you all have the idea by now but Atem is one of the most self-loathing and gentle vampires you’d meet....or at least he’s gentle with you. Other vampires who hurt people for fun? Okay, I can see him being ever so slightly sadistic when dealing with creatures like that, he has no mercy for vampires who’ve embraced their monstrous curse, best you run the other way when he punishes them, else you may actually get a little frightened of him...

R - Roles - do they enjoy pretending to be normal people? How do they feel about leaving their life behind to start a new one?

I wouldn’t say that Atem pretends to be normal, in fact, the only part of his vampirism that he embraces is being an “other”, or rather, the aesthetic of being odd, something that most humans feel uneasy when confronted with. He’d see this as a good tool to keep people he may hurt away from him. He’s no stranger to stalking graveyards/cemeteries, creeping in the shadows in a way that has others scurrying past if they happen to spot him, basically anything that makes him seem creepy and makes others keep their distance. Ultimately it hurts him since he’s unexplainably lonely, but it hurts more to know he may hurt the humans he comes across. On the same note, leaving behind one life for another to avoid suspicion is a double-edged sword for him, while it reminds him how terribly lonely existence is, it’s good to keep those who might’ve grown close to him safe.

S - Scars - do they leave marks or try to make the wounds small and invisible?

If Atem feeds from someone voluntarily (as in, not in an animalistic state), he’ll do everything he can to not leave lasting marks. Leaving marks means more pain and we all know how much he hates causing pain to others. 

T - Turned - how were they turned?

In my fic, Marik turned Atem as a form of revenge, but otherwise, I could honestly see Atem being turned by any YGO villain. I say villain because him being cursed with this life by a villain (like Bakura for example, or maybe another minion of Zorc) kind of goes along with the original story’s need to punish Atem and cast him into darkness for things that ultimately weren’t his fault.

U - Universe - what’s their biggest wish that they can’t achieve as immortals?

Mostly just...being close to people without constantly worrying that he’ll hurt or kill them. I can also see Atem yeaning for the simple pleasure of growing old and dying with one's family. If he fell in love he would crave the ability to just settle down and grow old together. Hell, he’s even one of those morbid romantics who thinks couples dying within days of each other is sweet and wishes he could do that when he loses his lover to old age.

V - Vampire - would they turn you?

Man again with the hard ones! Oof, okay, so...If you asked Atem to turn you, he’d say no, reciting his monologue about how vampires are cursed vermin who shouldn’t even exist, even if you retained your humanity after the turn, he knows the deep reaches of this curse and what it will make you do, and he hates the idea of you going through what he has.

...However, much like in the very first headcanon on this list...Atem makes mistakes and has his weak moments. If your life ended unexpectedly, of you were taken from him suddenly, like attacked or in some fatal accident, he may turn you in a moment of weakness; a desperate need to cling to you taking over his better judgment. He’d hate himself after and the only way he’d ever feel okay with it, is if time proved that you retained your humanity. He would teach you how to control your blood lust so you don’t have to go through half the things he has, and only then would he be okay with what he did to you in his moment of weakness.

W - War - would they engage in fighting their own kind for the humanity’s sake?

Yes! No one even has to ask him, Atem basically thinks the only good thing he can do with his powers is to rid the world of other vampires. He’s basically an avenging angel who’ll hunt down any vampire who threatens a human.

Y - Yandere - would they become dangerous to you (their lover)?

For the most part, I’d say no. Atem is self-aware and emotionally intelligent enough to tell if he ever starts crossing lines into “unhealthy” territory, and if that ever happened, he’d literally run away. He would leave you in order to protect you, no matter how much it hurt. There may be one (literally ONE) incident where he does something to you that crosses the line, but he’d be instantly horrified and remove himself from your life, moving to the other side of the world with no means to follow him, if it meant protecting you from himself. Now the chances of this happening in the first place? Hard to say. I really don’t think Atem is unhinged or even violent enough for it to be likely, but, an argument could be made that after everything he’s gone through, Atem may start seeing you and his love for you in an obsessives, unhealthy way. Again though, even if this did happen he would realize it and run away before it can go too far.

Z - Zombie - are they on their way to losing sanity?

I don’t think so. Atem is as strong (mentally/emotionally) as they come. Maybe eventually, after millennia and millennia of constantly losing loved ones and dealing the the monster he’s become he would start losing his sanity, but that would take a long, long time. 

[sergeantsporks]

Do You Want the Knife You Left In My Back, or Can I Keep It?

Rating: Teen and up, Gen

An injured Hunter wanders into Hexside. What was Luz supposed to do, just let him bleed out on the floor?

Ch1/?: Backstabber

Ao3

“The human must be truly formidable if the Emperor sent both of us to capture her.”

Hunter glanced back at Kikimora. “Nah, he was probably just worried that you’d mess it up, so he sent me to make sure it went smoothly.”

Kikimora studied her claws. “I know it was you that attacked me when I tried to bring the palisman to the Emperor. You and the human.”

Hunter whipped around. “Oh, do you want to talk about that now? Because I know that you knocked my airship out of the sky and tried to have me killed. So you have nothing on me. You tell the Emperor what I did, I tell him what you did.”

“The human really must be formidable if she managed to get the palisman from you.”

Hunter rolled his eyes behind his mask. “She’s really not. I was a little bit busy fighting you to worry about her.”

“Truly a strong foe,” Kikimora continued, “So strong she was able to overcome you.”

“What are you talking ab—”

A blast of magic hit him, and magical bonds snaked around his hands and feet, yanking on him and sending him to his knees. Hunter struggled and tugged against the ties, but they held firm. “HEY! Kikimora, what—”

Something sharp touched his back, right between his shoulder blades, and he froze. “She attacked us from behind,” Kikimora hissed in his ear, “She went for you, first.” Something slammed into his back, like she’d punched him. “She was brutal. Merciless.”

Kikimora twisted her hand, and Hunter felt a tingling shock, and then—

His world exploded. Heat flooded out from the wound, and Hunter heard a guttural, choking scream.

Oh, wait.

That was him.

Kikimora pushed him facedown to the ground, knife still in his back. “I killed her, of course. It was a tough fight, but to avenge a fellow coven member? Of course I didn’t give up until I succeeded.”

Hunter coughed, blood coating the inside of his mouth. “Kiiii…”

“That’s what happens,” Kikimora hissed, “when people try to replace me.”

She walked off, and Hunter just lay there on the ground, his mind fuzzy with pain.

He had to…

Ugh—

Hunter pulled out his staff, and inch by agonizing inch, used it to pull himself up, shaking. He twisted, reaching for the knife, but the movement just tore more, and the world blacked out for a second. He gripped his staff tightly, his knuckles white.

Kikimora could easily kill him in this state, if the wound itself didn’t kill him.

That meant the only thing standing between her and total control over the coven and Uncle Belos’ complete trust was… Luz.

Kikimora would probably go to the owl house first.

That gave Hunter the advantage.

Xxx

“Thorn vault!” Luz called, slamming her hand down on her glyph. The plant erupted outward, pushing her over Skara’s head to the goal. Skara jumped, but missed her by inches. “Ah! Not again!”

Luz touched down. “You’ll get it someday.”

“Unlikely!” Gus called from the bleachers, “I predict never!”

“Zip it, twerp!” Skara yelled back, “Just wave your flags!” She dusted herself off. “One more try?”

“One more try,” Luz agreed, “Amity, you ready?”

“Always!”

Gus screeched, pointing. “Luz!”

Luz whipped around in the direction he was pointing to see an awfully familiar staff moving slowly towards her.

And the person clutching it like a lifeline.

Amity raced towards Luz, skidding in front of her, an abomination already rising out of the dirt. “Stay back!” she warned Hunter, “I beat you once, I can do it again!”

Luz put a hand on her arm. “Wait! There’s something wrong!” She moved cautiously towards Hunter—he looked awful. Residue magic swirled around his wrists and ankles, and…

“Is that blood?!” Luz rushed forward to him, taking his arm. She stifled a scream at the jagged blade sticking out of his back, blood staining his white cape red. “Ohmygosh, what happened to you?!”

His chest heaved with ragged breaths. “Kikimora—never thought—this open—” He slumped against her. “After… you…”

“Find Viney!” Luz yelled to Skara, “Amity—”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him!”

“Okay, fine, Gus, get Eda!”

Luz lowered Hunter to the ground, holding him up so that the knife wouldn’t go further in. “Don’t die!”

Amity hovered over them. “What did you mean, ‘after you?’ Were you coming to hurt Luz?!”

Hunter coughed, blood flecking his lips. “I…”

“Amity, he’s in really bad shape! You can’t interrogate him right now!”

Hunter pawed weakly at her hand. “Kikimora… want… to kill… you… exposed…”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Big bad coven leader wants me dead. Now shhhhhh, stop moving around, you’re going to make it worse!”

Puddles landed next to her, Viney sliding off of his back. “Whoa! You must have been having the most intense grudgeby match of all time!” She knelt next to them, gently turning Hunter onto his stomach. “Oooo, that’s bad. You should have gotten the healing teacher, I don’t know if—”

Luz grabbed her arm. “No! No teachers! Please.”

Viney hissed, examining the knife. “This isn’t just a regular knife—there are some kinds of objects that are enchanted to be resilient to healing magic—in case you really, really want to make sure your enemy bites it.” She drew a circle with her finger, and the knife glowed golden. “This one isn’t too powerful—I can stop the bleeding and put a patch on all of the internal problems, but I can’t seal it up. He’ll have to heal on his own. Where did you even get this knife?!”

Hunter whimpered, and Luz grabbed Viney’s hand. “It doesn’t matter! Just do it, before he dies!”

“Okay.” Viney snapped her fingers, and Puddles shooed Luz to the side, offering Hunter a cloth to bite down on and gently holding him still with his talons. Viney took a deep breath, and the knife glowed again, floating out of Hunter’s back, the cloak floating away, too. Hunter let out a muffled scream into the cloth, and tensed, which just made the blood spurt harder out of the wound. Viney drew a circle over his back, and the bleeding abruptly stopped. Puddles coughed up bandages, and a needle and thread, and Viney nodded to Luz and Amity. “This isn’t going to be pretty. You might want to look away.”

Amity pulled Luz away. “Luz, what exactly are you planning to do now? Just dump him on the doorstep of the conformatorium and run away?”

“No way! What if Kikimora finds him first? We can’t just send him back, she is literally trying to kill him!”

“And he’s trying to catch you!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let him die!” Luz took Amity’s hands. “Amity, you fought him too. You didn’t feel even a little bit bad for him?”

Amity looked away. “Maybe a little bit,” she admitted, “But… if you’re not going to leave him with his coven, what is your plan?”

Luz bit her lip, staring at the ground. “Iwasthinkingmaybehecouldstayattheowlhouse,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“I was thinking he could stay with me,” she said louder, “At the owl house.”

“What?! No way! Luz, are you crazy?!”

“Ooo, hehe, jury’s still out on that one, Amity, you know that.”

“I’m serious, Luz, you can’t let him into the owl house!”

“Look at him, Amity, does he look dangerous to you?”

Amity looked back to where he was lying limp on the grudgeby field, Puddles nuzzling his face. “… I guess not… but still, he doesn’t have to attack you, all he has to do is put a trap, or let someone else into the owl house to bump you off!”

“The only people out for me right now are him and Kikimora. And Kikimora is also trying to kill him. Sooooooo I’m not overly worried about it.” Luz gave Amity’s hands a squeeze. “C’mon. I think I can handle one stabbed guy in a fight, give me that much credit at least.”

“… Fine. But good luck convincing Eda, she doesn’t exactly have the most… friendly of feelings towards him.”

Speak of the devil, Eda flew over the fence on her staff, Gus hanging onto the end. “I heard a kid got stabbed! Luz, you didn’t tell me it was knife day at school, I would have come to watch!”

“Kni—okay, sure, that’s a thing. It’s not knife day, Eda. None of the students got stabbed.”

“What? So what happened?”

Luz pointed across the field. “Uhhhhhhhm, soooooooo?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Eeeeedaaaaaa, I haven’t even asked anything yet!”

“Okay, let me set parameters for your next few sentences, then. If you are about to ask me if we can, in any way, shape, or form, take care of the Golden Guard and his lovely new piercing, the answer is no.”

“But Eda—”

“No. Nada. Nein. You speak Spanish, right? No. Any other ways I can say it?”

“Eda, he needs help!”

“Dump him on his coven’s doorstep, ring the doorbell, and run away. We’re not taking care of him.”

“Eda, listen—”

“No, you listen, Luz. That kid is trouble—and not the fun kind. You try to be nice to him, and he’ll stab you in the back. He’s been Belos-ified through and through.”

“I thought the same thing about Lilith!”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t. My sister’s too much of a nerdy dork to ever be really horrible. This kid’s a nerd, sure, but he’s not Lili. He’s dangerous, he’s desperate, and unlike Lilith, he’s working completely for Belos, not himself.”

“Eda, Kikimora’s trying to kill him!”

“Well, I hope they succeed at murdering each other, and maybe take Belos down with them while they’re at it.”

“It would be murder to leave him at the coven!”

“Guess I’m going to be a murderer, then. Add it to the list of crimes.”

“Wouldn’t you want him to help me if I was in his place? If you were stuck in the owl beast form, and King was trying to kill me, wouldn’t you want him to help me?”

“I sincerely doubt King’s murdering skills, and NO, I think I wouldn’t want you anywhere close to Belos.”

Luz gave Eda big puppy-dog eyes, and her mentor sighed.

“Buuuuut I guess I see your point. Gah. Fiiiiiiiineee. You can take him home.” Eda leveled a finger at Luz. “But you have to feed him, and water him, and clean up after his messes, and keep him entertained, understood?”

“He’s not a pet, Eda.”

“I said, understood?”

“Understood.” Luz hugged Eda. “Thank you!”

“Oh, and if he tries to hurt you, if he tries to sell us out to Belos? I will do Kookymora a solid and finish the job.”

[cerastes]

So, the Efreet, the Phantom Machine, the Production Model That Never Was, and one of my favorite Mobile Suits in Gundam, has the distinction of being one of the most stubborn figures in the history of the Universal Century.

To contextualize you, allow me to introduce our guest of honor:

This good lad right here is the MS-08TX Efreet. Attentive ace detectives and prodigy engineers will have noticed something: It’s basically a cross between a Gouf and a Dom. It was, indeed, produced before the Dom, perhaps even concurrently during its latter phases, and was slated to be the next mass production model after the Gouf didn’t really take off, but expensive production costs made Zeon favor the cheaper and very powerful Dom instead, and thus the Dom, with its genius design involving heavy armor and multiple-layered folds between which auxiliary thrusters were placed to make it both tough and very fast, became the next main mass production model. Only eight Efreets were ever made. It’s standard equipment was a Shotgun, uncommon weapon for MSes, also very uncommon in how it murdered the utter shit out of everything with it. Turns out expensive units are strong and can wreck shit.

However, this didn’t mean the Efreet wasn’t strong. The Efreet was strong. Very strong. It was too expensive to properly mass produce, which should tell you everything about how over-engineered it was. This is nothing uncommon in the Universal Century, but the Efreet has a special distinction of being a unit that Never God Damn Dies for good.

Its first appearance is in the SNES game, Mobile Suit Gundam: Cross Dimension 0079, as the final boss, in which the player, using the Gundam Pixie, must defeat it in single, climatic combat.

The base Efreet is one thing, but its when the spicy models comes out that things Get Real: Meet the [EXAM] Efreet Custom.

NOW THIS IS WHERE THE SPICE STARTS STINGING THE TONGUE. Gone are the forearm protectors and the base shoulders, replaced with arm-mounted grenade launchers and Bigger, Warhammer Approved shoulders. Instead of one Heat Sword, it packs two, and each leg is now equipped with a 6-tube missile launcher. The most important factor, however, is that it is equipped with the EXAM System, which, I shit you not, calls upon the power of a tortured trapped psychic soul in order to increase response speed in the pilot, and also to just be atrocious in general because you literally cannot make a single cool weapon in the Universal Century without it having accounted for at least ten skeletons in your ever-growing closet of war crimes. Like, ok, if we need help with our attention span, we take Ritalin, but in the UC, you just trap the soul of an unwilling servant into your big death machine and call it a day. We went from a shotgun-totting good lad to a walking abomination. Neat.

So how do you possibly up the ante? How do you outdo a machine that went from “military equipment” to “crimes against humanity and the cycle of life and death” in five seconds flat? THE ANSWER: THE BIGGEST AXE SCIENCE CAN MUSTER:

ONCE UPON A TIME, A MAN NAMED DOUG SCHNEID TOOK ONE OF THE REMAINING EFREET UNITS, AND FOUND IT LACKING. “HMMM. NO... I DON’T THINK THIS HAS ENOUGH OOMPH...” and so he had THE BIGGEST AXE (well, 2nd biggest) commissioned and that’s how the Efreet (DS) was born. It’s true that dark sorcery can solve most problems in life, but A Huge Fuckoff Science Axe can solve ALL problems in life, no exceptions, so why go over the trouble of tampering with the supernatural when you can just practice crude neurosurgery on everyone on the go? Doug Schneid knew what the fuck was up.

And where do you go from here? We already have en over-engineered shotgun lad, we have a dual wielding machine packing enough explosives to level Australia all over again and that is literally powered by a forsaken soul, we have a machine that has an axe so big it just cuts suits in two, no matter what fancy shield or force field you bring to the game. How do you improve on this? Has the Efreet reached the cusp of its potential?

No. The answer is in front of you: If the Efreet Custom is powered by a ghost, then the next Efreet should just become a ghost.

MEET THE EFREET NACHT.

The Nacht employs a very forward thinking philosophy of skipping the middleman, that is, the ghost, to just reach the endgame by its own merit, also because trapping tortured souls in machines is expensive and upsets your coworkers: Just build your own damn ghost.

Equipped with the strongest freaking stealth modules of the era, the Efreet Nacht is simply undetectable. It can be right in front of you, mere steps away, and you sensors are simply not gonna pick it up. Not just because it has Every Stealth Module ever inside the chasis, but also because it’s basically a walking ECM Hive: Your sensors cannot pick up hostile vehicles when your sensors have been fried to a crisp, which is exactly what this cheesy Nacho does just by existing in your general direction, it outright kills and murders your sensors. What do you even do at that point? This thing gets close to you and suddenly your screen goes static and you start hearing crackling white noise. The very next second, it runs you through not with a Heat Sword or a Beam Saber, but with a Cold Blade, which is basically a sword made of Electronic Warfare some-fucking-how because if it cuts your machine, it just fucking sends its internal machinery and AI into a frenzy. This bitch literally Y2Ks your giant robot with its sword. And if it can’t reach you with its sword? It’s got Throwing Y2K Knives, so even if you try to run away from it, you WILL bluescreen.

god DAMN.

What I’m trying to say is that it’s a fucking fortune they didn’t mass produce this thing because if a limited run of a Shotgun Fun Lad ended in a giant robot that deletes your System32 every time it sneezes at you, imagine what kind of madness would’ve erupted if it had become a widespread model. On one hand, it’s a shame there’s only eight Efreet units, but at the same time, we’re lucky there only ever were eight Efreet units. Despite being produced in 0079, they continuously survived battle after battle, even if their pilots didn’t, and we even see one of them in 0096, during Unicorn. Three whole wars outdated and these bad boys still out there causing trouble and stopping System from your Task Manager. That’s why I like the Efreet line so much: It’s absolutely god damn ludicrous, but it works out.

[douxie-casperan]

some fake fic meme options: cat with the canary / throwing horns / r.b.f. (resting brunch face) [;)]

[Wow there’s like multiple Zouxie here whoops. I hope that’s okay! I’m literally running where my brain will take me and apparently being in pain and a headache means I want fluff. Though I DID write two angsty for other prompts so it could equally be trying to balance that out lol]

Cat with the canary

Archie stares at the box placed in front of him suspiciously unsure if to even give it a nudge with his paw lest it do... something. The temptation to bat them off the counter in a fragrant act of cat-like behaviour is remarkably strong given the literal crowd watching his every move.

"And what is it you have decided to grace this household with this time?" The cat asks not daring to take his eyes lift from the strange yellow things with beady eyes. The wizard merely rolls his eyes paying more attention to unpacking that the dilemma unfolding in front of him.

"Zoe gave 'em to me when I stopped over after getting food, figured you'd enjoy a treat and they're kinda cute to be honest," he answers stuffing more ramen than should be legally allowed into a cupboard far out of reach of a humble feline who would otherwise try and hide them on the insistence of a healthier diet.

"Apparently they come in lots of different colours? Got herself some in pink, naturally. Hopefully there's some goth abominations lurking out there somewhere too."

"What you humans find cute has always been questionable at best." The familiar levels him with a look for the ensuing laugher and fur bristles even more indignant for it.

"Bird chicks I suppose you could call them that, these however I must vehemently disagree."

"Listen if you don't want them I'll eat them all myself they don't have as much good marshmallow stuff over here. I miss flumps they were killer."

Letting out a snort of disgust and knowing well that is not an idle threat he sits on his haunches to pluck one of these mysterious peeps from their nest. Mentally he dithers for a second or two more trying not to squish the horrid thing between his pads and then ceremoniously bites the head off.

Mmm, not too bad actually

~

Throwing horns

Of all the things that had happened to him in literal centuries, having various Halloween related stuff ceremoniously dumped on his head was surprisingly not on the list until this very moment. Literally spitting feathers (?!) Douxie starts shoving the lot of them off onto his lap to find they also included, funnily enough, a set of blue glittery devil horns. Hmn, he holds them up with a quirked brow, really?

"Come on, this is like the one time of year we can dress up and be stupid and you're not on shift or finding an excuse to cover somebody else!" Zoe says with one hand on hip and the other pointing to his face with nails freshly decorated in deep purples to match her lipstick.

"You've skipped out on me three years in a row mister, you're all out of excuses this time and I want you ready for tomorrow night when I'm dragging your ass out to give this town a show they won't forget."

"That's sure a fancy way of saying drinking," he teases taking the chance for a proper shufty through the fabrics. Oh that one has a bitta potential...

"Plus this is the States remember? They think I'm underage."

"Pfft like you've never faked an ID before or the fact people think you're in college all the time Mr. I've got legs for days so I get asked about taking up modelling."

"Hey that was the 90s love, different time. Hasn't happened again in ages."

"Doux, it literally happened last month when we were in Starbucks, you were too caffeine deprived to figure out what words meant and I got stuck vouching for you appreciating the offer but too busy to think about it right now," she answers back scooping up what suspiciously looks like a Lord of the Rings wizard robe run through tie dye and holding it up like a suggestion and a grin.

"Touché," he answers shaking his head as he is absolutely not wearing that thanks. He won't own up to not remembering if that really did happen or not, if they ever go to a chain it's usually because he's too tired to function beyond ordering a drink and about ready to pass out at the first opportunity.

"Well if you're so insistent I be a lovely witch's consort fer a night, how about the lady herself decides, yeah? Within reason because it's not fair you get all the glamour and I don't fancy going it looking like I fought a bin bag and lost."

She fails to hide the faint blush fast enough from the sly grin on his face but it doesn't stop her snatching the headband from his side and twirling it as a distraction letting the shimmering catch the light just so and taking his attention off her before he can try and say something back. Satisfied, Zoe carefully places them on his head while mussing his hair a little to make sure they sit properly before standing back to admire her handiwork. Perfect.

"Hmm, alright... How about to make it fair I run everything with you first and I help with your makeup if you wear these horns? They're kinda cute and they do match your hair~"

He can't see them himself despite trying his best to which is no doubt deliberate but for a smile like that coming his way he'll happily go with whatever she asks. It's sappy and he could not care less what any other soul out there thought about it. So he simply throws a trademark salute instead.

"Deal."

~

R.B.F. (Resting Brunch Face)

"Rough day?"

She looks up to find Douxie hovering above her, tea in one hand and an éclair in the other with his brow furrowed in concern, hadn't even heard him coming let alone asked for anything yet somehow he managed to know anyway. He keeps joking about once a waiter but it's a little weird seeing it actually happening before her eyes.

"What are you even talking about?" she answers back snapping more than she intends while forcing herself to sit back in the chair instead of burying her head in her arms to give him the space for the plates to be set down with a gentle clink.

"Frankly I'm peachy."

To his credit the wizard simply rolls his eyes patting down the branded apron he's currently wearing looking more the part than usual when he works in Benoit's. Must be an inspection or something...

"For one? You've got the murder look, you only ever get the murder look when either I've done something which I can't have given I've been here all day oooor you've had multiple people try and shame the music selection," he says gesturing with his left hand and the other on hip outright abusing the fact he's taller than usual right now to loom like a mother hen.

"... And on occasion That Guy at Hex Tech but you've not mentioned him in a while. I called in my break so scooch over and blame the fact you chose a booth against a wall."

She shoots him an annoyed look but does as she's bid making enough space though not before hoarding the sweet offering he came with. He's mindful in turn to give her plenty of space so she won't feel squashed even though it means sticking his leg out from under the table so as not to bang his knee on the metal.

"I've not killed anybody before you ask but I might have thought about it."

"Uh huh."

It earns him a swat though to her annoyance he simply laughs her off and slides the tea closer knowing it's better to be patient and let her offer up the answers when she's good and ready instead of trying to push too hard when this angry at the world. They've known each other far too long, literal centuries at this point, that they can be as in tune as breathing when it really needs to count and sometimes it makes her wonder if this is what his own bond with Archie must be like? It certainly feels closer than words can give meaning to. The tea is mint with a hint of a fruit she cannot quite place from the taste of it, the heat helping warm her chest as much as her palms curled around either side of the cup. It's comforting.

"It's," she begins, then pauses ignoring  the way his head tilts to one side to show she's got his full attention she can just make out the corner of her eye.

"The new kid actually. Skittish as hell I don't know what's up with him like there's keeping a low profile and there's I'll pop out of existence like Nightcrawler. Literally every time I try and talk to him alone he just ups and bolts you'd think we like bite or something."

A hum is let out beside her seeming trying to properly weigh up his options from the way his head moves just enough for his hair to shift across his face. Zoe takes the opportunity to grab the éclair so she won't be caught looking too obviously and as ever grateful he didn't bother trying to make her use cutlery and instead left a napkin for the future chocolate mess.

"Must be something up, want me to try and grab him for a natter? Mean I'm still an unknown so might be a bit less threatening and can always try the "Look at my cute cat!" angle if I have to. Doubt it's you personally, could just be nervous of all the ladies you got over there that could kick his ass," he says teasing nudging her in the shoulder getting a derisive snort back.

"What's his name by the way?"

It IS an idea, come to think of it, Douxie carries more of an aura of being harmless and he might be willing to open up more to another guy and help get to the bottom of just what's up without it coming across as an interrogation not to mention genuinely being able to say he's separate from the Coven.  She gives the plate a tab with a nail to make more of a show of debating it before finally answering.

"Calls himself Hank."

[yukayjei]

Linked Universe FanFic: No Courage Without Fear, Part 2

Super excited to continue this @linkeduniverse fanfiction! Tracking the Wizzrobe isn’t as easy as it appears. Our Heroes will need to jump through a few hoops first!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

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

“I was almost convinced that Wizzrobe is a ghost,” Hyrule admitted as they reached the top of the hill, “but no ghost leaves footprints.”

Under the light of the moon, the Wizzrobe’s footprints were easy to find. True, it had teleported away, but it left two distinct imprints where it had stood. Where it had gone was unclear, but Hyrule suspected it hadn’t traveled far. Wizzrobes could only warp short distances.

“Ghosts aren’t usually malicious, to my knowledge,” Sky replied, swerving to avoid a lone pine tree. “Though I have only met one,” he added with a laugh.

“Every ghost I’ve met has been nothing but trouble. As if all they want is to inflict the same pain and unrest they feel.” Hyrule’s face darkened like thunder as he recalled his first adventure. “All I did was accidentally bump into their graves! Accidentally!”

“They might want something to ease their pain,” Sky grinned, restraining laughter at his friend’s grumpiness. “My ghost wanted paper.”

Hyrule almost tripped over a stray rock. “Paper! What on earth for?”

Sky, now walking backwards so he could face him, gave him a funny look. “For the toilet, of course!”

“Why in the name of the Triforce would a— you know what? I don’t want to know.”

“I actually didn’t give any to her, yet she still went away.” Sky shrugged and resumed walking normally by his side. “I guess ghosts are just finicky.”

Hyrule raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t share with a ghost? You, who’d share a meal with an ant? I’m surprised.”

Sky glanced away, a tiny, secretive smile etched across his face. “Let’s just say someone else needed it more.”

Hyrule opened his mouth to press him with more questions, only to see something that made him stop dead in his tracks. Sky, noticing the tension, stopped as well, and followed Hyrule’s gaze to the flattened grass in front of them.

“Well, that’s weird,” the latter noted.

“Another pair of footprints,” Hyrule muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Right at the forest’s edge. There’s no telling where it is now.”

Said forest, upon closer examination, was denser than it appeared. Trees were packed so closely together that all moonlight had been blocked out.

Sky exhaled slowly. “That’s a tight fit,” he mumbled under his breath.

Hyrule frowned, his brow furrowed as he wracked his brain for answers. “It couldn’t have gotten far. Maybe it warped further inside. We probably should— HEY!”

The outburst nearly made Sky jump out of his skin. Snapping his eyes back to the forest, for just a fleeting second, he saw a pair of bloodred eyes stared out at the Heroes. Then, just as quickly, they blinked and were gone.

Trying to ignore his pounding heart, Sky drew the Master Sword. “Well, it’s definitely in there.” He addressed Hyrule, only to find himself gazing upon empty air. He turned back to the forest. Hyrule was already three steps ahead, Magic Sword already drawn, and charging into the inky shadows.

“Hey, wait!” Sky hurried after him.

…………………………

At first, there was just enough moonlight to make out obstacles a few feet ahead, such as overgrown roots and low-hanging branches. But Sky had barely made it ten steps in before every last drop of weak, white light vanished, swallowed up by the darkness. All sound and motion ceased as well.

While his eyes adjusted, Sky strained to see any sign of the Hero of Hyrule. Unfortunately, it felt like trying to peer through a thick black curtain. With absolutely no light to bounce off his eyes, he may as well have been blind.

“There’s no way he got that much of a head start,” Sky muttered to himself. “Then again, he has a candle, and I don’t.”

A brilliant idea popped into his head. Holding the Master Sword aloft, he pointed it skyward. A pale blue light trailed up from hilt to tip. The brightness pierced his eyes, but when he managed to look, a mystical aura-like radiance surrounded the blade.

It did not have the fuller range of a regular flame, but it lit his surroundings enough to guide him a few feet at a time. Reassured, he proceeded forward with all the haste he could muster, praying that Hyrule wasn’t too far away. Hylia forbid the Wizzrobe find him first!

His eyes swept over the forest, hoping for the warm flicker of the lantern’s fire. A wintry chill had set in, and the temperature steadily dropped further and further. Sky shivered, not because he was cold— his former home, Skyloft, had always been on the nippy side— but because of how unsettling the whole environment was. Not even the slightest breeze stirred the trees’ leaves; they may as well have been made of stone. All sound— his footsteps, his breathing— was suppressed to the point where it pressed on his eardrums.

Getting lost in these creepy woods was not an idea he wished to entertain. He thought he had a good grip on his direction, but he was starting to wonder if the forest had a conscience of its own, if it wanted to get him lost. At first he thought that was a stupid, paranoid thought, but the deeper he ventured in, the closer the trees grew together. He kept bumping into them, kept getting swatted in the face by low-hanging branches. Still, he tried to shake it off…until he dared to look back.

Blocked. Completely sealed by tall trees packed so closely, you together couldn’t fit a blade between the gaps. Nausea and dread punched his stomach like a cannonball. He and Hyrule had walked straight into a death trap. The Wizzrobe’s wicked curse overpowered the forest’s natural order, literally bending it to the monster’s wishes.

The sound of his rapid breathing faded in and out, until all he could hear was his heart, pounding against his ribcage like a hammer. His mouth felt dryer than Lanayru Desert. His shoulders instinctively hunched in a defensive posture, and he eyed the trees warily.

This artificial cage reminded him of Eldin’s dark, cramped tunnels he was forced to crawl through on several occasions. Each and every time, he felt like he was suffocating, like there was no space for air. He’d hated them. Hated them so much. He could accept everything new and different the Surface threw at him, except that. Being so confined went against everything he knew. Never again. He did it for Zelda, but never again.

These cursed trees…they were too close. Just like before. Too close. An invisible hand squeezed his lungs. The world spun, pressing in on him, and he shut his eyes to steady himself. Blood roared in his ears. No one knew where he was. And his body would never be found. He would die here, die alone—

A familiar chime brought him back. He gasped and opened his eyes.

Her dazzling blue light faded in and out, like a cloud passing over the Sun. But each time she glowed, there was that sharp, clear ring. The one he always heard when she was about to speak to him.

C’mon, deep breaths, he told himself, forcing down the panic rising in his gut. Deep breaths. And though it took several tries, he succeeded in doing so.

The Sword did not actually speak, but she did not need to. The reminder of her presence alone was enough to calm him, at least somewhat.

The Skyward Strike fizzled out, stranding him in the dark. Quickly, he charged another one; this wasn’t as easy as the first time because his hand still trembled. But when the soft blue glow infused the blade once more, his nerves settled a bit more. To him, it was a sign the forest hadn’t succumbed completely to the Wizzrobe; as long as there was light, evil hadn’t won.

Besides, he would not turn back, even if he could. Hyrule still needed to be found, and the Wizzrobe vanquished. So, drawing one last deep breath, he pressed on, holding the Master Sword high.

He wasn’t sure how far he’d gone before he spotted the lantern’s familiar glimmer. An ear-splitting battle cry shattered the eerie silence into a thousand pieces. Hyrule! He found the Wizzrobe!

Sky ran faster than he’d ever run before. He tore across the grass, leaped through the narrow gaps between the trunks. He kept banging into trees, kept almost losing his footing. Low branches whipped and scratched his face.

The wind howled, hailing the presence of the evil abomination waiting for him. All subtlety lost, the trees shifted with groans comparable to a Hinox’s, forced to unnaturally pull themselves into a silently commanded formation. A literal wall began filling in before his eyes. They were trying to cut him off. But they weren’t quick enough.

He dashed at a full sprint. Already he was at his limit, but raw fear and determination boosted his speed to that of a maniac’s. Just before the gap closed, he hurled himself through, bowling over the Hero of Hyrule, snuffing out his lantern.

“Sorry!” Sky gasped as he untangled himself.

“Where’d it go?” Hyrule scrambled to his feet, grabbing for his dropped Magic Sword.

Just a few yards ahead, the Wizzrobe cackled gleefully at the Heroes’ unexpected mishap. It conjured massive fireballs in its clawed hands and hurled them faster than speeding arrows.

Sky and Hyrule easily dodged sideways, so the fireballs crashed into the wall of trees behind them instead. The heat in the air skyrocketed as the forest shot up in flames like dry grass. Worst of all, the fire, as unchecked fires do, was rapidly spreading to all it could touch. The Wizzrobe grinned and disappeared.

Hyrule uttered, “Uh-oh.”

“Run!” Sky yelled, turning on his heel and tearing for the second closing gap he’d faced in less than two minutes. A race against an infernal ring of fire, twenty feet high.

Hyrule sprinted behind him, hot on his tail. But the ring closed just a few feet before they made it. They were trapped.

“Oh, goddesses!” Sky shouted over the blaze’s roar. He broke into a coughing fit, for thick smoke billowed everywhere.

“Don’t panic!” Hyrule commanded, leaping back as a large tongue of fire snaked towards him. “We’ll figure it out!”

He’s right, Sky forced himself to focus. Using one hand to cover his mouth and nose with the sailcloth, the other fumbled around his pouch. Gust Bellows. His bag of winds. Maybe he could blow it out. No. The wind would only spread the flames even more.

There was the great moaning of a massive tree felled by the fire. Sky hurled himself out of the way as it crashed to the ground, separating the Heroes.

“Hylia, help us,” he whispered through the thick fabric. The smoke stung his eyes, making them water. Everything was red, orange, yellow. Dark and bright at the same time. The heat waves distorting the air were dizzying. Disorienting. Hotter than Eldin Volcano.

Close by, Hyrule had just cast a Shield Spell on himself to avoid a nasty burn from the spitting tongue, but it was only a temporary fix. He wracked his brain for a solution, but all he could see was the wall of fire towering over him, slowly bearing down.

If only he could sprout wings and fly.

If only he were flameproof.

If only—

“That’s it!!” they shouted in unison.

Hyrule crouched down and began chanting. At once, his legs gained an almost weightless feeling. Taking a running start, he rushed forward and cleared the wall in a single, effortless leap.

Sky clapped his hands to his ears, though this was just a reaction to how stupid he felt. How could he forget that he had fireproof earrings? The fire would be hot, sure, but he would not be touched. And sure enough, when he dashed through the wall and reunited with Hyrule, he emerged completely unscathed.

“I feel like a complete idiot,” Sky related as they caught their breath. “Serves me right for almost losing it.”

“Me, too, but I’m just glad we’re alive.” Hyrule brushed sweat off his forehead and dusted ash off his clothes. “Amazing, huh?” He jerked his thumb towards the ring, which mysteriously shrank to the size of a campfire. “It stopped spreading outward, and only went inward. I’d say we’re in the clear— for now, at least.” As he spoke, the fire poofed out of existence in a puff of multicolored smoke.

“Guess the Wizzrobe didn’t count on us escaping.” Sky shrugged. “At least we don’t have to worry about the entire forest catching on fire. The old man would kill us.”

Their relief was dashed into tiny pieces when the Wizzrobe reemerged from the shadows.

[ask-dbd-laurie-strode]

Hey laurie, what was it like when u met the Plague? Did you feel bad for her with what happened to her and what does the Obsession reveal about her?

The Plague. I know she looks like something to pity… but don’t let her diseased appearance fool you. Whatever circumstances lead to her coming to this forsaken state of existence, she is no longer a victim in the least; She carries herself with the haughty grandeur of a self-proclaimed goddess. Sauntering through the trials with her head held high, clearly proud of what once must’ve been considered a disastrous curse.When I’m in a trial with her... when I look upon her towering form in the distance, the connection is made between us. And I can feel a powerful love for the Entity. She is devoted to its cause, utterly swayed by its whim and sees its sacrificial demands as a justification for her mutilation of us survivors.She doesn’t necessarily pity us the way The Nurse does. She is filled with absolute lust for the Entity’s good graces, and will appease it whatever way she can; spreading her contagion to us, weakening us with never ending bile, stomach spasms and unbearable heat. In comparison, The Nurse simply tries to put an end to us as soon as possible.The way she kills us too… she doesn’t do it quickly. She aims to cause us severe distress. She always makes sure to force us to ingest her disgusting, vile, spew; forcing it down our throats until our lungs grow heavy and we drown in her illness. She isn’t “putting us out of our misery” nor is she simply doing the Entity’s work… she is punishing us for whatever reason. She is making sure that we are terrified, that we feel powerless in her hands.The sickness I feel from her is not just the plague she carries. She isn’t something to be pitied. She may have been a human, she may have been tricked or forced into work for the godawful black spider that rules this place, but she has fully embraced it and makes sure that we feel like worms beneath her feet.At times, when a trial is nearing close, and no one has died… I sense great fear in her heart. And I am glad. Because she torments and hurts us with no pity, no remorse, and above all, she does it with arrogance. She believes herself to be a chosen one, and us to be the heathens she must punish.The only times I sense anything more than Arrogance, and the aforementioned fear, is when she sees me.The Obsession has once again successfully wormed its way in… perverting some aspect of the Beast’s brain. She sees me and I can sense a sort of necessitous hesitation.Anytime she touches or injures me with that heavy burner, I immediately become a presence of fear, the others have said so. They say they can sense her malicious aura coming off me in waves.Her rotted heart follows me for sometime before finally returning to her… waiting to haunt me again.During that time, I feel this horrible, all-consuming heat coiling inside my chest and wrapping around my thoughts…And it’s then… that I see her intentions towards me… I can sense that she sees me as a messenger for her “God”; a voice to announce salvation and fear. But not only that… it feels like she sees me as a possible Neophyte. Like she perhaps wants to take me under her wing.I don’t know what could’ve lead her to view me in such a way, other than The Obsession forcing it in.She still kills me. Treads over me like the others and watches me squirm as I am forced to inhale her terminal kiss. But she always speaks. She always whispers or shouts in an ancient language, one that I cannot possibly understand literally, but there is a passion in her words. And when she speaks to me, I almost feel… an eager sort of expectation. Like she is just biding her time for the moment she can share the truth of her unknowable words to me.Sometimes, while I’m stuck bleeding out on the hook, waiting for the abomination to take me away to the hellish sky… she stays.She stands before me, studying my face with her one good eye.And I stare back at the two-sided face she wears; it almost seems like The Entity granted her back some of her former beauty. The way her flesh droops, balloons out and weeps with rot on one side, while the other shows what once must have been a truly beautiful young woman. A perfect representation of what the monster has done to these… these people.She will sometimes cup my head with her gigantic, rotted hands... I try to fight her away, but it’s no use when the grind of the hook’s jagged metal on my raw flesh damn near paralyzes my body.She’ll hold my face, and for a moment, she’ll speak, she’ll say something that almost sounds like a stern parent, or maybe like an authority figure telling you what’s good for you.And then she’ll kiss me. Sometimes on the cheek, sometimes on the forehead and disgustingly sometimes on my mouth.Perhaps she sees it as a blessing. As a way of showing me some form of lenience… trying to get me to acknowledge a path she foresees…I’m scared… What if there IS something inside waiting to be awoken? Just behind my eyes, waiting to see an escape? The others said it themselves… I carry her heartbeat.

[mllemaenad]

Wizards in Harry Potter aren't liable to be possessed by literal demons from Hell regardless of their good intentions. Furthermore, non-magical people in Harry Potter also have guns, sniper rifles combat planes, tanks, heat seeking missiles, NUCLEAR BOMBS to equalize the fight if a dark wizard starts thinking that he should rule them. The two settings are completely different. Give these advantages to non-magical people in Thedas and I will agree that the Circles aren't necessary.

Hi Anonymous person!

Look. I’m a little perturbed by what you’ve got there, because you seem awfully willing to cause harm to helpless people on the basis of what they might do. But I’ll do this in chunks.

Wizards in Harry Potter aren’t liable to be possessed by literal demons from Hell regardless of their good intentions.

Well. Neither are mages in Dragon Age, largely because ‘hell’ doesn’t exist. I know that sounds flippant, but it’s important. Andrastianism isn’t Christianity, of course, but it does have a Christian aesthetic – more specifically a Catholic one – and the Chantry operates in a world reminiscent of a time when a pope could dominate kings and start holy wars.

That Christian aesthetic is also applied to spirits. Instead of the ‘Seven Deadly Sins’ we have Enchanter Brahm’s five demons: rage, hunger, sloth, desire and pride. It’s a useful game mechanic, absolutely; you can’t have infinite monster designs in a game, and it helps the player figure out what kind of weapons to employ in any given fight. However, as the story goes on it becomes increasingly clear that the Chantry’s view of spirits and demons is simplistic at best and outright wrong at worst.

Spirits embody something that has become important to them. There are many, many more kinds than the Chantry’s sins and virtues lists would acknowledge. There’s a spirit of Command hanging out in Crestwood in Inquisition who just really wants someone to obey its orders for a while. Solas will talk to you about a spirit who embodies an ideal people have forgotten.

Demons seem to be largely spirits who have suffered in some way. We usually don’t know why. Solas’s friend is an obvious example – a spirit who was inexpertly summoned and trapped by frightened mages. It’s also noteworthy that Merrill talks about her ‘demon’ being bound and left over from war. While of course we can’t know exactly what happened there, we can fucking guess, right?

These are all just beings – people. And they’re all from the same place. Not hell, heaven, purgatory or anything like that. They’re from The Fade, which is their home, the source of magic, and was apparently much closer to the rest of the world before Solas and the Veil.

I’ve noted repeatedly that spirit possession is an important part of several cultures, and is often a positive thing. Possessed mages serve as companion characters (Wynne, Anders) and kick some serious arse in battle, and Justice just wanders around in Awakening wearing a corpse and it’s fine.

Of course, no one is saying that possession can’t go wrong. I’ve played the games, and of course my characters have killed both ‘demons’ and ‘abominations’. But. When you say something like ‘demons from hell’ you’re imposing a particular religious view on the story – one that allows you to simply declare that these people are evil and that it’s fine to kill them. We know that it is possible to liberate a possessed mage, and to heal a spirit who has been corrupted. We have seen both those things. But why bother if they’re evil, right? Just lock them up and kill them if things get tricky.

That view is wholly wrong for the setting of Dragon Age. But it is … pretty well on par with the view the Chantry actually expresses. So when you say ‘demons from hell’ I actually think that’s an excellent reason why the Circles should be abolished, because it’s imposing ideas on this situation that are wrong, unhelpful and cruel.

Also. I mean. Also. Yes, I have fought possessed mages in Dragon Age. I have also fought possessed templars. Possessed trees. Possessed bones. Possessed rocks.

If you feel we need to lock up everything that can get possessed, you’re going to have to start with all the people and then move on to all the plants and inanimate objects. If all things can be possessed, then all things need to be locked up. And if all things are inside the prison, couldn’t we just … not have one?

Furthermore, non-magical people in Harry Potter also have guns, sniper rifles combat planes, tanks, heat seeking missiles, NUCLEAR BOMBS to equalize the fight if a dark wizard starts thinking that he should rule them.

Um. Sorry Anonymous person but … what? Have you … read those books? Now, granted I haven’t read them in a while but I have read them. And … I have no idea what you’re talking about.

‘Muggles’ in Harry Potter are usually comic relief, and even the ones that aren’t simple buffoons are depicted as largely helpless against magical attacks of any kind. The British government shows up just long enough to express a heartfelt ‘What the actual fuck?’ at the war with Voldemort before promptly vanishing from the plot again.

All of this … stuff about conventional weapons you’ve introduced has come from your imagination. It’s not how the relationship between Muggles and wizards is portrayed in the novels at all.

In fact, conceptually, I would say that the wizards of Harry Potter are much scarier than the mages of Dragon Age. Tevinter had an empire in Dragon Age, and because they value magic the magisters undoubtedly used it in the fight to obtain that empire. But they were taken down by famine and Blight, and finished off by war. In the series’ ‘present day’ Orlais has achieved the exact same thing as Tevinter with significantly less magic (not no magic, of course, since they will drag their imprisoned mages into battle), and there’s no sense that Tevinter can just zap its way back into power. They are constrained by economics, geography and politics just like everyone else. Magic is useful, but only up to a point.

Now … in Harry Potter, there’s a pretty strong sense that wizards could just take over the planet any time they felt like it. In fact, the back story contains one Grindelwald, who actually did want to take over the world and enslave Muggles. This was not a war between Muggles (who are not supposed to have been able to prevent this) and wizards, but rather an internal schism in the wizarding community. Gindelwald was not defeated by NUCLEAR BOMBS (And seriously – what the hell, is your plan to defeat wizards ‘flatten Scotland’? because that’s what would happen if you tried to bomb Hogwarts. You want to take out Diagon Alley? Congratulations, you just blew up London.), but rather in an old style man-to-man duel with another wizard. In a castle. They were ex-lovers. I’m assuming it was on the ramparts, it was raining and everyone was screaming like Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker in Revenge of the Sith.

I haven’t kept up with it, but I am peripherally aware that J K Rowling has said … increasingly weird things over the years, and I’m not attempting to defend any of that. But there was a general … theme in the novels that … most people probably aren’t fascists, and when the fascists come from within it is the community that must take them down. So Muggles are not given much power or agency at all.

This had nothing to do with heat-seeking missiles. Just … what?

Meanwhile, over in Dragon Age the Chantry talks a lot about mages having advantages in battle, but in practice that’s not what we actually see. For a start, non-mages have plenty of weapons that work just fine against magical enemies - swords, spears, arrows, axes. Nobody in Thedas has NUCLEAR BOMBS, mage or not. It’s not setting appropriate. Anders may have been a mage, but he had to rely on explosive material (likely gunpowder) to actually get a significant bang.

Non-mages may also wield enchanted weapons, meaning that they can literally take magic into battle with them. The mage over there is shooting lightning from her fingers? Your sword shoots fireballs. What the hell are you complaining about?

Nor does simply having a weapon in your hand mean that you know how to use it. I don’t know how to use a gun. Someone could give me one, in a crisis, I suppose. But it would only be luck that allowed me to incapacitate an assailant, and I certainly couldn’t fight several. Most ‘ordinary’ people in Thedas won’t have much in the way of weaponry. But likewise, neither will mages. They have magic, but that isn’t the same thing.

How many dead bodies do you need to prove this? The mage who was apparently murdered by villagers in Crestwood, when she went in to try to help them. The mages cut down by the Qunari swords in The Demands of the Qun. The villagers who were going to fucking lynch Rhys and his friends in Asunder.

It feels like you’ve made up a story about how magic works in both of these series that isn’t true to either of them.

Give these advantages to non-magical people in Thedas and I will agree that the Circles aren’t necessary.

So … to be clear, you’re arguing for:

the abduction of and permanent separation of children from their parents

forced conversion to a religion and the suppression of alternative religious beliefs

deprivation of citizenship and the basic rights that come with that

reducing people to a permanent infantile status as wards of a religious institution

permanent surveillance of affected individuals (phylacteries)

execution without trial where deemed appropriate by religious authorities

… because people might get possessed and can sometimes make fire come out of their hands? Well. Okay then. Good to know.

[slasher-asks]

what are your nsfw herbert west headcanons 👀

I’m happy to see all the interest in Herbert West! I was sort of worried after seeing the movie that it was too cult-classicy to be popular but tumblr has proven me very wrong! 

In my humble opinion…

He’s a freak, really. Maybe less of one than you’d expect but when you lack reverence for life and death and the line there in it lends you to a certain lack of humility.

You don’t like playing Doctor and horrible abomination to god and man alike? Unfortunate, because he does. Scalpels and stitches and drugs oh my.

Getting to this point with him is quite the challenge. He can be standoffish, single minded, and… rude. But once you have? Once you’ve earned his respect, his adoration? Once you know about his work? It’s free game. He’s not hiding what he wants.

He’s a top, I know this might be controversial considering the absolute himbo that is Dan Cain but it’s the read I got. Maybe not literally, you could bend him over, be in him, but he’s the one controlling the situation. You’d never get him tied down. You’d never get him muzzled. He enjoys his freedom and knows what it’s like to have it taken away too much for that to be anything less than triggering.

The focus he has on his research will lead to months where he’s all but forgotten the rest of the world exists. Luckily, this leads to heated bouts of desk-centric lab coat-on sex when he finally remembers. It’s almost rabid, he bites- he’s turned all that focus in on his partner. Mind the beakers, wouldn’t want a chemical bath or… would you?

When he’s moved his attention onto sex, it’s sharp. He’s a man of science after all, of medicine, and empirical evidence is the name of the game so he has to start testing. He’s taking notes of reactions, sometimes literally, behind your back with his notepad (depending on the position) but it’s all kept in mind. 

All in all it’s either hot or cold with Herbert, but when it’s hot? It’s scalding.

[somniumoflight]

Part 7 of Shade Lord as Ghost ideation:

What actually happened between the Radiance and the Void/Shade Lord for her to pronounce the Void/Shade Lord her “Ancient Enemy,” and what would make it mutual?

Since I’ve already mentioned the Radiance a few times in other ideation posts, and mentioned the possibility of her calling the Void her “Ancient Enemy” being a mutual sentiment from the Shade Lord’s side of things, I feel like I should give some serious thought as to what exactly might have happened to make this epic rivalry happen.

I’m going to start from the Shade Lord’s side of things.  I’ve already mused about the Shade Lord finding light uncomfortable, but not necessarily lethal, but since then another thought hit my mind like one of Grimm’s cloak spikes – what if it’s only certain kinds of light that could harm them, instead of none of it actually harming them unless they’re weak?  This probably will need some elaboration to help this make sense, so I’ll go into that first before I go diving into the mind of the Abyss here.

If you look at the different kinds of light that three of the known/semi-known higher beings in Hollow Knight – Grimm, the Pale King, and the Radiance – have or are attributed with, they’re all very different kinds of illumination, with different intensities and attributes. Grimm is linked to scarlet fire, I tend to compare the Pale King with artificial lights like lightbulbs, and the Radiance can arguably be compared to either the Sun or the Moon.  Since this isn’t a post about light symbolism in Hollow Knight or anything, I’ll try to quickly summarize my thoughts on the matter:

Grimm’s light, scarlet fire, is arguable the least bright of all the lights just mentioned, fire being mostly a low-energy output, mostly heat kind of light – it might be able to burn you, but it’s sure as hell not going to blind you either.  

The Pale King’s light is like that of a fluorescent lightbulb – it illuminates a hell of a lot more than fire, and is bright enough to put spots in your eyes if you stare at it, but at the same time, it’s cold, artificial, sterile, and artificial lighting can make it harder to see natural lighting, such as stars at night.  (Also moths get drawn to artificial lights a lot and pay the price for it, hmm, doesn’t that sound familiar?)

The Radiance, on the other hand, could arguably be attributed with both sunlight and moonlight – sunlight because of the pretty blatant sun imagery when she appears for the first time in her boss fight, plus her colors of yellow and orange, and moonlight because in many mythologies, the moon is actually attributed to madness and insanity, which is definitely something going on with the Radiance’s Infection in the game.  Sunlight is utterly blinding if looked at the wrong way, is hot enough to warm an entire planet, and is easily the brightest of these three kinds of light… and thus, the closest we see in canon to the complete and utter opposite of the Void.

So, with my Hollow Knight light theory (it’s like color theory but more glowy!) foundations set, it’s time to actually get into the whole “different kinds of light cause more harm to the Shade Lord” thing.  I’ve already mentioned that not all kinds of light would be harmful to the Shade Lord – in this case, most likely, it would be the scarlet flames of the Grimm Troupe that cause them the least amount of harm, followed at a wide margin by the Pale King’s much brighter, sterile light, which is canonically seen in the doorway that closed off the Abyss before the King’s brand is acquired.  It might be able to chase off the darkness, but it doesn’t eliminate it entirely, just sort of… puts up a wall to keep it away.

Sunlight, though?  Literally lights up the whole sky, chases away the night, all that poetic nonsense.  It eliminates any absolute darkness it finds, until the only place it can escape is in places the light just plain cannot reach, such as underground. Which… puts a much less humorous twist on the whole “Shade Lord was just chilling in the Abyss for a long time” thing I was contemplating. Anyway, the point of this long shpeal about yet more light symbolism was that while the Void can theoretically coexist with the Grimm Troupe’s light, and is chased away by but not exactly threatened by the Pale King’s, the Radiance’s light is absolutely a threat to the Shade Lord. When the Radiance first arrived in Hallownest – I doubt she was always there, c’mon, moths can fly – SL’s immediate reaction upon encountering this blinding, burning ball of sunbeams would have probably been some ancient Abyssal equivalent of screams of agony, and then lashing out to try to extinguish the light.

And, when we look at canon, trying to get rid of the Radiance in any way shape or form is definitely her berserk button.  Look at how utterly she ruined PK’s kingdom, just because he made people forget her.  Now imagine her when she was at her strongest, and when she’d just had some shadowy abomination try to kill her… and, because of the all-consuming nature of the Void, probably nearly succeed in killing her.  Not only would she have been furious, she probably would have also been terrified out of her wits. And terror and great power is not a great mix.  She wouldn’t stop at salting the earth like she sort of did with the Infection, where the land could theoretically still recover afterwards.  She would go full scorched earth tactics, and try to raze everything to the ground – which would begin a cycle of violence between the Old Light and the Void, each trying to kill the other over and over again until they both finally decided to retreat.

So, in short?  I think the whole “ancient enemy” thing between the Radiance and the Shade Lord was caused by utterly incompatible natures.  Absolute darkness cannot survive in the light, and light can be smothered and consumed by absolute darkness.  Thus, the Shade Lord and the Radiance were literally at each other’s throats from the get-go and kept trying to eliminate one another until they eventually retreated to their individual domains – the Radiance to Hallownest’s Crown, at the very top of the world where that glowing village stands, and the Shade Lord to the Abyss.  And SL, rather than risk running into the Old Light again, simply chose to stay in the Abyss, and let her have the run of everything above.

[waitonmedarling]

One Wild Night-Shawn Mendes OneShot

Note: I can’t believe I wrote this and that I’m posting it, but my beautiful @getwaytooinvolved has some kind of power over me and can convince me to do crazy things I never would have dreamed of doing before I met her. Thank you for pushing me out of my comfort zone and being my cheerleader. I love you so much, Sunshine! Check out her masterlist...She’s INCREDIBLE!

This is the first time I’ve written anything other than research paper for school! Hopefully you enjoy my first attempt at writing as much as Shawn and the reader enjoy the hockey game. Thanks for reading :)

Warnings: Language

__________________________________________

You had just finished applying your mascara and giving your hair one last fluff when you heard him approach the bathroom door. A smirk formed on your lips, anticipating Shawn’s reaction to your choice of apparel for the evening.

“Hey Shorty. I’ve got something for-“ he didn’t finish his sentence and huffed in annoyance when he saw what you’re wearing.

“You can’t be serious. Please tell me you’re just doing this to tease me and you’re gonna change before we leave. Look, I got you this”. He walked over to you and held up a bright royal blue Maple Leafs jersey, just like the one he had on over his white hoodie. You graciously accepted the jersey, turning it around to see the name stitched on the back. You’d be lying if you denied your heart skipped a beat seeing “Mendes” stitched on the back of the jersey he bought for you. But, you also couldn’t resist teasing the gorgeous man in front of you just a little bit more.

“Mendes? Is he a new player? I’ve never heard of him before.” Your smirk growing by the second as Shawn rolls his eyes, unable to keep a smile from creeping up on his lips.

“Ha ha. You’re a real comedian.” Shawn pouted but couldn’t erase the smile on his face.

“If you wanted me to wear this abomination to hockey, you could’ve at least got me a Matthews jersey.” you quip and playfully traced the bridge of his nose with your index finger before giving the tip a soft boop.

A flash of emotion crossed Shawn’s face but it disappeared just as quickly. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his chest while his other hand took the jersey and tossed it on the vanity behind you. You had a suspicion that was confirmed when he looked down at you and pressed his forehead to yours to confess “You really think I’m gonna have you wearing some other guy’s name on your back? I want the whole world to know you’re mine. Is that so terrible?”

Both hands moved down to your hips and he pulled you closer. He silenced the smart remark about to leave your mouth by kissing you. Being pressed against his chest and feeling his breath on your lips, it came as no surprise when he closed the space between you and brushed his soft lips against yours. You deepened the kiss, one hand trapped on his firm chest while the other slid up and over his shoulder to grasp at the curls along the nape of his neck. He playfully licked into your mouth as his hands slid down the outsides of your thighs searching for the hem of the oversized forest green Minnesota Wild jersey he found so offensive. Smiling into the kiss you pulled back and whispered in his ear “Nice try, Baby. But I know exactly what your trying to do. Did you forget? I’m from Minnesota…the State Of Hockey. The Wild jersey stays.” You couldn’t resist giving the tiny silver hoop in his ear a tug with and giggling when he let out a whine of defeat and gave your bum a playful smack.

With his lips on your neck he decided it was his turn to tease you.  Slotting one of his thighs between your legs he asked, “Care to place any bets on the outcome of tonight’s game?” A hint of mischief in his tone that made you pull his face from your neck so that you could look at him.

You were rewarded with cocky grin and a look of pure lust as he squeezed your bum. He certainly had your full attention. “What did you have in mind?” your curiosity piqued at Shawn’s playful tone.  “When the Leafs win tonight, I get to fuck you while you wear the Leafs jersey with my name on it.”

You bit your lip, breath hitching when you felt a sudden and intense need between your thighs. You didn’t intend to do it, but you found yourself rocking against his thigh trapped between your legs trying to get some friction. You quirked an eyebrow at him and without missing a beat stated your terms of the bet.  “Deal, but when the Wild win tonight, you have to wear my Wild jersey to the next Wild vs Leafs game.” And, because you wanted nothing more to provoke him further and wipe the cocky grin from his beautiful face you added, “And, since I’m a very gracious winner, when we get home tonight I’ll let you fuck me in nothing more than my Wild jersey. Deal?”

The last bit earned you a low, “Shit, Baby. Deal. It’s definitely a deal, but If you keep this up, I may just say fuck it and drag you to the bedroom right now.” You squeezed his bicep and gave him one last peck before swatting his hand away from your butt. “Time to go Lover Boy.”

After a few stops to take selfies with several fans who recognized Shawn, you were fully stocked with snacks and beer as you took your seats inside ScotiaBank Arena. Soon after settling in to your seats the players took the ice for the usual pre-game events: warm-ups, starting line ups, and the singing of the national anthems.

Your eyes immediately searched for number 11 in white. Shawn, enjoying watching you get wrapped up in the pre-game excitement, followed your gaze trying to figure out what it was you were looking for.  He doesn’t have to wait long because you captured his attention by grabbing his bicep and quietly mumbling “There he is. There’s my guy.” A huge smile breaking across your face when Zach Parise skated to a stop just to your right. You didn’t really mean for Shawn to hear that, but you aware of your mistake when you heard him clear his throat next to you.

“Your guy? Number 11? That’s your guy?” The last question more of an accusation than a question. Oooohhh! Shawn was definitely a little jealous! You weren’t trying to make him jealous and he had absolutely no reason to be, but you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty, but also slightly proud? Embarrassed to be caught openly gawking at Parise in front of your very gorgeous, sweet, and loving boyfriend, your cheeks were flushed when you risked a glance at Shawn’s face.  

“I’m sorry Babe. That’s not what I meant.” you cooed and lifted on your toes to peck his cheek. There was a tiny bit of hurt he couldn’t hide from his features, but he softened slightly at your words and affection.

“I thought I was your guy?” he whined, but he had always been terrible at hiding his actual feelings. You realized that he was putting on an act when he couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. You raised your hand ready to playfully swat his chest, but he captured it with one of his own before you could land the blow. He raised his other hand to brush his thumb along corner of your lower lip. “Keep it in your pants, Missy. You’re drooling.” His eyes crinkled in laughter as you pulled his hand away and pouted out “Am not! God! You’re such a child!” But you couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped.

He slung his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. You enjoyed being close to him so you wrapped one arm around his waist and brought the other to rest just below the Maple Leaf logo on his abdomen. With a content sigh you looked up at Shawn and couldn’t stop your declaration “I love you, Shawn.” You would do anything to keep the smile he rewarded you with on his face when he replied “I love you too, Shorty. So much.”

Pre-game festivities completed, it was time for puck drop. The first period was bit uneventful with no goals scored by either team. Your excitement wasn’t dulled by the lack of either team being able to score a goal.

Near the end of period Shawn couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease you just a bit more. You hadn’t even realized you had been doing it until you felt Shawn’s giant hand grab your knee and hold it still. You felt your cheeks begin to heat knowing he caught you bouncing your knee like an excited child. You look over at him and mouth a shy “Sorry” which earned you your favorite Shawn grin as he gently massaged the top of your thigh above your knee. He leaned over and kissed your cheek before he whispered in you ear “you’re drooling again.” You bumped your shoulder against him in fake annoyance and heard him chuckle while you kept your eyes on the ice.

The horn buzzed to signal the end of the first period. You stood, needing to stretch your legs during the intermission between periods. You were so engrossed in the game that you hadn’t realized that you were literally the only person in your section wearing a Wild jersey. You were surrounded by blue and white. You hadn’t expected to see tons of Wild jerseys- after all, it was a home game for the Maple Leafs, but you didn’t think you stick out like a sore thumb either! Shawn noticed too. “You wouldn’t be feeling so out of place if you would have just worn my jersey” He scolds you. “It’s a shame that you wasted money on a jersey I’m never gonna have to wear. Maybe you can give it to you mom or your sister since it has their name on it” you sassed back with a wink to make sure he knew it was still all in good fun.

At that reply, he grabbed your hips and pulled you down to sit on his lap. A surprised yelp and giggle burst from your lips while your hands rested over his around your waist. “You’re pretty cocky, Shorty. We still have 2 periods to go and it’s only a matter of time before the Leafs turn a power play goal.”

He let his lips brush the shell of your ear while he taunted you. You wiggled in his lap making sure to get just enough friction to make him squirm. You knew you were successful when you were rewarded with a low moan as he bit down on your earlobe. “Jesus Christ, Baby. If you keep that up, I may have to haul you out of here before the next period starts.” Pleased with yourself, you stood and took your own seat again as the players came back to the ice for the second period faceoff. You settled in and threw his own words from earlier back at him “Keep it in your pants, Mendes. You’re drooling.”

The second period was more intense. The players on both teams getting more physical in their style of play. Each team had 2 powerplay opportunities, but neither team was able to take advantage of the extra skater to score. There was a break in action for the arena crew to clear the ice shavings that had built up during the period when your ears were filled with a very familiar sound.

“All it’d take is one flight. We’d be in the same timezone, yeah.”

You snapped your head to your right just in time to see Shawn drop his head in disbelief. An absolutely adorable and bashful blush creeping up his cheeks had you poking him in the ribs to get his attention.  His head still down, he turned to see you nodding to the giant screen suspended above center ice. The pride in the smile on your face was so bright and infectious he couldn’t stop himself from pulling you to him. He looked directly at the camera, smiled, waved, and blew a kiss to the crowd before planting a kiss at your temple.

The cheers and music faded out as the players made their way back to the ice to resume play. “I can’t believe all of Toronto saw you next to me in that jersey. You know how embarrassing that is? My girl. Openly rejecting my team. In front of thousands of people. In my hometown.” He scoffed, but and entwined your hands before pulling them up to brush his lips over your knuckles. He was so engrossed in affection and taunting that he nearly jumped out his skin at the sound of the horn signaling then end of the period.

Since Shawn had appeared on the giant screen earlier in the period, it was inevitable that fans would try to find him and ask for selfies. Luckily they weren’t aggressive and he knew you wouldn’t mind since they weren’t interrupting the game. You were perfectly content to stand by and watch each interaction he had with every person asking for a selfie. He really was too good to be true. So kind and giving to everyone he met.

Before you knew it the players were back on the ice and ready to finish the game. As the seconds ticked by you were getting restless. You were competitive and really didn’t want to lose the bet you had made with Shawn, so you started to become more vocal in your encouragement for your team. You cheered every time Parise touched the puck and it was starting to get to Shawn.

The crowd was on their feet with only a minute left in regulation play. Much to his delight you snuck your hand into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans and gave his bum a squeeze. It was a dirty trick to get his attention but you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little bit more. “Parise is gonna score next time he gets the puck. I can feel it.” And you gave his bum another squeeze.

He was so lost in his thoughts of getting you home and fucking you in nothing but that Maple Leafs jersey that he completely missed Parise drive to the net and redirect a shot just above the goalie’s glove. The Wild had scored with only 90 seconds left in the game.

The blare of the horn startled Shawn out of the lusty haze you had him trapped in. You expected to see disappointment on his face as you celebrated your team’s goal, but you saw nothing but love, excitement, and mischief written in his stunning features. The way he was looking at you had re-ignited your need for him. You bit your lip and turned your focus back to the ice for the last few seconds of the game.

Shawn took advantage of the sound of the horn signaling the end of the game to pull you to his chest and whisper in your ear. “Looks like I may have lost the bet, but I’m still a winner because I still get to fuck you when we get home.”  His dirty words and breath on your neck mixed with the excitement of your team winning had you pulling him out of his seat and almost dragging him to the car, but not before getting one last shot at Shawn. “Told you my guy was gonna score. Now take me home and pay up on that bet.”