#I'm sorry I'm so bad at keeping up with these

[creatingblackcharacters]

Lesson 7: "That's the Black one!"- Imagery and "Black-Coded" Characters

Now, you see me writing it!! I'm writing the lesson on Black-coded, non-human characters!! Y'all better go tell your friends and reblog, y'all been asking me forever about it!

This one was a bit hard for me to write. It didn't feel… New. It felt like a regurgitation of everything I'd already discussed. I was honestly confused every time people sent me questions; I thought we all understood how it worked. But I realized: that's not a bad thing! We can consider this an application of everything we've learned so far, because that’s all coding is, is an application!

The Definition

Coding (in media): giving a character or a group certain traits (physical or cultural experiences) that are similar to/that of a real-world specific group, without explicitly saying this fictional group is the real-world group. One may or may not mean to do it in their writing (which is where the opportunity for racist stereotype can leak in).

E.g., “queer-coded characters” gets used a lot on Tumblr; whether accurate or not, it is understood to mean that the blogger sees their/a queer identity portrayed by that character, or that the character was written with ‘queer’ traits in mind. Another example; Darwin Watterson is a goldfish in a world with no humans, but Darwin is Black-coded. The Fishmen in the One Piece Live Action are fantastical creatures, but they are Black-coded (of a very specific type of Black person; even!)

Youtuber KermitCurry explains and reinforces what I’m also going to explain here, but with a cool drawing of (the gorgeous) Grimmjow. She’s a Black artist and animator; go check her out and support her!

Here is a list of a few characters both canonically and Black-fanonically Black-coded:

When Coding Characters as Black

To keep it simple: if the rules apply when designing and writing a Black character, the same rules apply when designing and writing a Black-coded character! The moment you decided that this nonhuman entity was going to resemble a human group of people, you were obligated to be aware of the cultures and stereotypes of those people!

You can’t have a Black-coded character, emphasize a stereotype of Black people, and then say “oh, well, it’s not actually racist because they’re actually a cat-wolf creature!” Yes, it is. You’re still being racist, and upon noticing or being told, there’s no need to be defensive about it- just acknowledge ‘ah yes, I’ve messed up, I'm sorry for my actions’ and then actively work towards a better design or writing that does not include those things.

Example: Hair

Let’s say you want to draw hair on a fish-like Mer species, and you want them to be Black-coded. It would still be racist to give that Mer-woman pickaninny hair, even if "well they're not really Black!" You could find fancy fish scales or seaweed or something fish related to draw ‘Black hair textures’, so that we understand what it’s visually supposed to represent while still being fantastical. Or a robot! Someone mentioned tubes for locs, and you could do curly wires for twists. It's possible! Get creative!

I’ve been asked numerous times about Black hair on furries. Not that I’m the most educated on furries or furry culture- I am not- but they’re already anthropomorphic animals that talk, have human hobbies and habits, and often have pretty rainbow colors. It should not, then, warrant a complaint of “unrealistic” if you respectfully add Black hairstyles to them.

Example: Species

The point about furries actually brings up another good point. Watch out when you're coding Black characters on animals or animal-like species. Often people will have the “dark-skinned, struggling with balancing their humanity monster” Black/Black-coded, and the “pale skinned monster that somehow understands this battle more than them and can save them from themselves”. This is rooted in racist imagery.

I have mentioned it before in response to an ask, but if the only people you find yourself coding as your ‘monkey/animal/monster/beast’ creations are Black and/or dark-skinned, you are- however intentional it is or isn’t- replicating a racist, dehumanizing pattern in league with King Kong and ‘ravishing the white woman/body’. I’m not inherently ‘rugged and masculine’ as a queer Black woman, thus meant to be pushed into the werewolf role. Black men aren’t beasts that can’t control their violent impulses, thus meant to be pushed into the animalistic role. Why do you think Black bodies being beast-like is sexy? Why do you think we are not physically capable of delicacy? Of gentility?

This doesn’t mean that Black characters can’t be werewolves or those sorts of creatures- but you need to be writing/designing with intent, and that means recognizing when you just ‘thought it looked cool’, and that thought turned out to be a racist belief upon further reflection.

Example: Skin

Let’s say your demon species has dark grey skin bc they're rock people or something- yes, the grey skin is because it's a demon species, we recognize that it's not desaturated brown skin. Fine. But God forbid that this grey-skinned ashen group of Black-coded characters are the unequivocal villains? And everyone else that isn’t Black-coded are the ‘good guys’? But ‘it’s okay, because they’re not Black, they’re grey!’? Yes, this is still racism. There’s no getting out of it.

Example: Intelligence

If your Black-coded species is the one that is ‘less cultured’, ‘talks funny’, supposed to be ‘stupid’, or in need of some good (white) character to ‘change their ways and become better people’… Just don't do that. I should not have to say this. Black people are not less intelligent, or ‘more inclined to brawn over brain’, 'more likely to act out of instinct', ‘in need of more education/direction’, or every other reason that was used to justify our enslavement and now, present arrest and imprisonment rates.

Example: Culture

This segues from my last point on intelligence. There’s arguments on coding species that are meant to be "savage" or "inhuman", giving them stereotypical loin cloths or tattered clothes and having them "need to be saved". Now, I'm not informed enough about D&D to make valuable commentary on the existence and history of orcs. However, if you've decided to create an Orc culture, and it's clear that your imagery is taken from Black and/or Indigenous cultures, in addition to the language of savagery and white saviorism itself… That's extremely racist. And if you're thinking "Ice, of course no one would do that in 2024", Yes. Yes, they would. The bar is low, but don't ever assume people can't, don't, and won’t find a way to limbo under it.

Black and Brown people don’t need to be ‘saved’ from our own cultures or ‘introduced’ to anything. We don't need to be 'made better'. If that’s the narrative that you find yourself buying into while you write your story, Black or Black-coded characters, you need to step back and evaluate.

How This Imagery Lasts

Jim Crow Museum- Racist Cartoons and Anti-Black Imagery

This is obviously not everything I could put here as a example, but I wanted to offer a small example of how heinously racist imagery has made its way into the present. From depicting Serena Williams as an overgrown, childish, large-lipped Black woman (and whitewashing Afro-Japanese woman Naomi Osaka into the ideal, victimized blonde white woman), to Lebron James’ Vogue photo (this Black, married man now suddenly slave to the intensity of ball and white women for this cover), to the entirety of the Black Pete festival in the Netherlands.

This is imagery and behavior that evolves and lasts. What you put to paper will have an effect on someone else's ideas. You might not even think you believe these things, but someone looking at your art or reading your work will think you do! You should not want to be evoking any of this, coded or not, regardless of ‘if there’s a human involved’ because frankly… well, people already don’t see Black people as humans. We need to be treating our Black and Black-coded characters with care, and that means doing good research and avoiding replicating caricatures.

[coff33andb00ks]

Lando, 43

43: raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly

requests closed until I catch up <3

"Are you a romantic person?"

He smiles, biting into the chip and casting his eyes downward briefly. "When I - When I need to be," he says with a little smile.

Oh the way fans ate that up. Your feed on Instagram and TikTok and even fucking Twitter were inundated with that clip for weeks, and you still see edits of it, and anytime you post him or include him in your stories the comments come rolling in, asking if he's been romantic lately.

Joke was on them, because he was always romantic. It's wonderful, truly, even if it did frighten you at first. Surely a man that actually did the romantic things was a total red flag? No one really sent flowers for no reason. Or called even when they only had ten seconds to talk. Or wanted to stay on FaceTime while you got ready for the day or ready for bed. No one ever said we don't have to talk I just want to feel like I'm with you and meant it unless they were toxic.

And you knew that no man in the history of ever - except in movies and books - had ever learned the lyrics to a love song from like 50 years ago so he could sing them in a karaoke bar. Or have his friend video it so he could send it to you. And then proceed to sing bits and pieces of it every day.

At least, no man before him. He did.

Lando Norris, the most romantic man to exist.

He's singing it now, and you wonder if he even knows he's doing it because it's soft, under his breath. You smile as you listen to him in the kitchen, dishes softly rattling while he unlaods the dishwasher.

"And you come to me on a summer's breeze, keep me warm in in your love..." He begins humming and you turn your attention back to your work, his humming fading as you focus. It's not until he touches your shoulder that you notice he's in the room.

"Hey," you murmur, smiling up at him.

"Your tea's getting cold, love." He reaches across the keyboard and saves your work. "Screen break."

You obediently turn away from the computer and reach for your tea. "Thank you. Sorry I've been in here almost all day every day this week."

Lando shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize for working. I know how much you love it."

"I feel bad, like I'm neglecting you." You set your cup of tea down and stand, winding your arms around his waist. "How about I fix dinner tonight?"

"Gonna feed me and take me on a walk?" He's teasing so you don't take offense, tipping your head back for his kiss. "I'll help, yeah? Or we could go out."

"But I love cooking for you."

"You just wanna get me fat so no one else will steal me away," he snorts, hands sliding down your arms and pulling them from around him.

You open your mouth to argue that but he's taking your hands in his, humming the song again. Sighing at the gentleness of his touch, you feel warmth and adoration squeeze around your heart as he lifts your hand. And fall in love all over again when he bends to press a kiss to your knuckles.

Knees: weak. Heart: skipping a beat. Eyes: glowing. Butterflies: fluttering in your stomach.

"Let's start dinner yeah?" he asks.

[clarkpip22]

𖤓. 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 - 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍 ⋆ ˚

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↪a/n - Hello everyone, I'm still trying to figure out this writing thing so sorry if this isn't very good, but I tried 😩.

************************************************************* "God, I want you so bad." Kate whispered in your ear as she fingered you with her long, thick, pretty fingers. You and Kate have been at this for hours ever since you walked in through your door and found Kate on your couch waiting to hear you complain about your trashy boyfriend. Truth be told, she didn't care because she already knew how to help you out. All she had to do was sit you in between her legs and spread you wide open so she could finger your perfect, tight pussy. 

"O-oh, Kate! Please slow down!" Your hands gripped her wrist, trying to stop her digits from pounding into you, but she continued at a fast pace. Wanting to listen to the sounds of your damp, wet cunt squeezing and hugging her. "I'm not slowing down, baby. I'm just going to keep making a mess out of you until you let go all over me and this couch." You knew that she wasn't going to stop once she started. 

Kate's big, lustful eyes trailing over your body as she listened to your rant about your man was enough to convince you that if she got her hands on you, she would've never let you go. Martin's fingers rammed deeper, making sure that every inch of your walls felt her prodding fingers. "Baby girl, you can take it." The sound of obsession and greed dripping for those words caused you to shiver. "Please make me cum.." you cried. " I'll make you cum baby, trust me as soon as you cum for me, I'll get in between your pretty legs," she paused to let out a little giggle, "and clean up all of your sweet juices, baby." 

You whimper and squirm beneath her, powerlessly trying to push more of her fingers deep inside of you. You were going to release just for her; your greedy hole was getting tighter and tighter around Kate, and it wanted so bad to squirt all over the place. The athlete saw this and went at unbelievable speed to get you to cum; digging deeper into you. Kate craved you for years, always wanting to lay hands with you and feel the warmth of your body. She wanted to taste that sloppiness that she has created between your legs and show you how much she cares about you. And now she got the chance to do it...

Getting excited, Kate took her other hand and played with your chest, squishing your tits and then twisting your nipple. "Baby, let go for me; squirt for me! Do it!" She said it with a smile on her face. You arched your back for her, getting ready to release. Seeing you grip the coushin beneath you and hearing the sound of existence escape from your mouth made her so wet. Your vision turned white as you got closer to release. You voice was louder for Kate, encouraging her to keeping ramming even after you've cum. She let out a soft sigh, followed by a few chuckles while riding out your high. Once you had calmed down, the she got up from behind you and kneeled before you. Her eyes were filled with so much need. You knew what was coming next.

"You did so well for me, baby," she said softly while putting her hair up. Martin spreads your thighs open and pulls you closer to her face. As her palm gently moves up and down your thigh, looking into your eyes, and then back down at your now-drenched cunt, she tells you, "Imma show you just how proud I am of you."

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#horny😛 #ineedthis

ALSO THANK FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY LAST POST 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

[ddodol]

terms of endearment — s.es

drabble ⭑.ᐟ synopsis ⭑.ᐟ eunseok tries out different pet names. content warning ⭑.ᐟ pet names galore, a bit suggestive but it's meant to be fluff i swearr, x and z erasure i'm sorry word count⭑.ᐟ 1.1k+

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“angel?”

you blinked at eunseok, wondering why he’s suddenly using a different pet name for you. “yes?” you replied with a small smile, making eunseok smile widely. he held you close, sighing at your warmth. “is there something on your mind, seok?”

eunseok pulled away, staring at your face lovingly, “nothing, you looked like one just now.” you laughed, putting down the ladle in your hand to give him a quick kiss, “you could’ve just said you were hungry.”

”beautiful.”

eunseok cupped your face lovingly, closing in on you as he placed kisses all over your face. you were so sure you were anything but beautiful right now, all sweaty and out of it as eunseok held you close. “seok, please,” you whimpered, slowly going insane at how affectionate eunseok was feeling tonight.

”i mean it, you look so beautiful right now, y/n.” you chuckled softly, staring into his eyes. you almost felt overwhelmed with the way he stared at you, stomach fluttering at how he made his affection for you so clear when he used to struggle with it before. “i love you too, seok.”

”cutie.”

eunseok smiled widely, holding up a pack of snack that you bought for yourself. you huffed at him, “you’re not fooling me this time. when i asked if you wanted something while i was out, you said nothing!” eunseok laughed, leaning in to give you a peck. you take advantage of this, pulling him closer as you try to reach your snack.

”get better soon, dear”

you chuckle, weakly turning your head towards eunseok. “it’s not like i’m dying. someone just forgot to tone it down last night, right, eunseok?” he smiled sheepishly, laughing as he massaged your lower back. “my bad, dear. i forgot you had a bad back.”

”you’re my everything, y/n. please forgive me.”

you stare at him, slowly taking the bouquet he held up in front of you. it was your favorite flower. you clear your throat, trying your best not to get swept away so easily. “just to be clear, this doesn’t mean we’re good again,” you try to hide the growing smile on your lips as you look at the flowers. eunseok seemed to notice though, smiling widely at how adorable you are.

”okay, freak.”

you gasp at eunseok, slapping his shoulders as he laughed. “i’m not! it’s just a clown costume!” eunseok shook his head, “a sexy clown costume, y/n.” you rolled your eyes, “okay, maybe a bit freaky, but i swear it’ll look cute! i’ll put ribbons all over it,” you pout at him.

eunseok laughs, kissing your pout away, “okay, freak. can you put some of those ribbons on me too?”

”hey there, good-looking.”

you felt goosebumps all over your skin, scrunching your face as you turn to eunseok. “can you please not do that in my sister’s wedding?”

”good night, honeybunch sugar plum.”

you burst out laughing, falling back against his shoulder at how hard you were laughing. “is it that funny?” eunseok laughs with you, smiling at the adorable expression on your face. “should i start calling you that more?” you shake your head, “oh, seokie, please don’t. i won’t be able to keep a straight face.”

”good morning, my little insect.”

you weren’t expecting to laugh so early in the morning, weakly slapping eunseok’s chest as he pulled you close, “you liked honeybunch sugar plum last night, i thought i’d follow it up with something sweeter.” you laughed against his chest, “you’re so dumb, seok.”

”jellybean.”

eunseok smiled at you, “i know you had a tough day today, i cooked you some food.” you pout at eunseok, throwing yourself at him as you whined, “thank you so much, seokie.”

”alright, kitten, now you’re just asking for it.”

you giggled at eunseok, easily lifting you up and throwing you gently down the bed. “i haven’t even done anything yet,” you mutter innocently, smiling as he hovered over you. “you don’t have to when you’re this cute, kitten.”

”what a cute little loser.”

you smiled at eunseok, shoving a box at his face, “so are you gonna help me assemble it or not?” eunseok laughs, “where do we even start?”

”you look beautiful today, mommy.”

you furrowed your brows, “okay, i show a bit of cleavage and i’m mommy now?” eunseok chuckles, “you have glasses on too. you look hot, mommy.” you roll your eyes, “you’re not even into that. stop acting like you don’t beg to get called daddy every night.”

eunseok smiles widely, pulling you close to him, “i don’t have to beg, though?”

”okay, calm down, nutcracker.”

”i said i was sorry already! i really didn’t mean to!” you exclaimed, panicking as you watched eunseok writhing in pain. “i’m okay, nutcracker.” you couldn’t help but laugh, “if you’re okay, stop calling me nutcracker already!”

”you’re the only one for me, y/n.”

you rolled your eyes, “yeah, it didn’t seem like that when you were ignoring me all day.” eunseok giggled, “y/n, i was working.” you pouted, “doesn’t mean you have to ignore me!”

”just like that, princess.”

eunseok sighed softly, taking in the pretty sight of you going down on him. “you’re so pretty like this, fuck.” you smiled in response, bobbing your head up and down as eunseok kept his eyes on you.

”on my way, my little queefer.”

”song eunseok!”

”little rat, come back here!”

you laughed as you ran away from eunseok, squealing whenever he was close to catching you. “i swear it wasn’t me! i just heard it from sungchan!”

”sweetie.”

you tilt your head, waiting for eunseok to continue speaking. he just blinked, smiling widely at you, “just wanted to call you that.” you laughed, pulling him close for a hug, “you can be cute sometimes, seokie.”

”twinklebutt?”

”hands off my ass, eunseok!”

”you’re like a blind little unicorn, y/n.”

”seok, what does that even mean?” eunseok chuckles, “no, it's just that you keep bumping your head into things.” he pulled away to look at you, “and by things, i meant me.”

”you’re a vanilla girl.”

you giggle at the ridiculous nickname, “seok, you should know better that vanilla isn’t the only flavor i like.” eunseok smiled at you, “i know, it just sounded cute.”

”weirdo.”

”my bad, it’s cold,” you smiled sheepishly, snuggling inside his hoodie. eunseok laughed, placing a kiss on your forehead as he squeezed you in his arms.

”you’re the yin to my yang, y/n.”

you cooed at him, “aw, are you saying i complete you, seokie?” eunseok had a mischievous smile on his face, shaking his head, “i just thought i’d ask for 69 in a more creative way.”

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[haikyu-mp4]

Hello! So can i request about kageyama? I want to request what his reaction will be when he accept his first birthday gift from reader in his first year because he didnt receive any of it in his middle school, plus he didnt think his birthday is that important to celebrate since his grandpa often forgot about and his sister is busy with her works. And reader give him the present in front of school gate when they going home. That's it, i'm very sorry for my bad grammar😔😔

Present

word count; 487 – gn!reader

You had not been dating Kageyama for long by the time his birthday rolled around. Since Halloween, when he struggled to ask you out properly while wearing the fake vampire teeth. After you said yes and went in for a little kiss on the cheek, the edge of your witch hat poked him in the eye.

A charming start for sure.

The two of you agreed to not get each other Christmas gifts, seeing as you hadn’t been dating for that long and would rather spend that money on doing something together instead. However, nothing could stop you from finding the best gift for Tobio’s birthday.

On the 22nd of December, you excitedly made your way out the school entrance in your puffer coat, gloved hands clutching onto the blue box containing that sweater Tobio thought Oikawa looked so cool in on his Instagram. It had taken some of your savings and a little help from your parents, but you were so happy you could get it for him.

You yelled out his name, taking a couple of deep, nervous breaths before you were right in front of him. He was waiting by the gate for you, as he would walk you home on the days neither of you had any club activities.

“Hey,” he greeted you, confusion on his face from how you had called out to him.

“Happy birthday, Tobio!” you said cheerfully, holding out the present with both hands. Your boyfriend seemed to freeze, staring down at the box and then back up at you.

“What’s in the box?” he asked, pointing at it awkwardly.

“You have to open it!” you said, trying to keep the energy up.

“It’s for me?”

“A birthday gift!” you confirmed. “For you, yes.”

He took the box and you could swear his chest puffed out in something similar to pride. You took his free hand and smiled widely.

“Is your family celebrating? You can open it with them if you want to.”

“My family,” he seemed to consider it, and you disliked how his eyebrows flocked together and lower lip slowly pointed out in a pout, even though it made him look cute. “No, they wished me happy birthday this morning.”

You blinked at him, not sure what to say to that. “Then…” You licked your lips. “Maybe we can go get some food?”

And he was very happy with that, even slightly swinging your hands between you two as he told you all about how he and Hinata were planning something for practice the day after.

While waiting for the food, he opened his present and you were satisfied with the little stars in his eyes as he thanked you. “This is exactly the one I wanted,” he confirmed, and this experience alone felt like it would fuel your energy for eternity.

It might not be much, not some huge party, but it was everything to him.

masterlist

[artinvain]

Sevika's reaction to her girlfriend cumming untouched from eating her out AAAAA pulling out my hair bangin on the walls I'm so normal for her I have nothing else to say I'm just vibrating at unimaginable speeds

fuuuckk thank u - been watching the bear so in keeping with that — we have chef!sevika

angst, fluff, smut, degradation, dom!sevika, oral (sevika receiving) after care, drugs (weed).

being a chef at one of piltover’s five star restaurants could kill sevika. sure she was strong physically, and she could hide her pain, but in the kitchen she was vulnerable. in the kitchen she was young again, clinging to her mother’s legs as she baked this thing or the other.

so when the head chef had told her that she had disappointed him with her fucking choux? to say she was devastated was an understatement. how did she fuck up a pastry she’s been making since she started culinary school almost a decade ago.

he went in on her, about her ethic — “you gave yourself too much to do again, you do not delegate and that does not work in our kitchen’s brigade.”

jesus christ he was worse than usual today. she tried to focus on folding in her pastry, thinking about; the eggs she had going low over vinegar, the last meal review — there were bones in a bake and she had shit on jinx for overlooking something so simple. and yet here she was, fucking up a choux. she could feel bile in her throat.

“Yes, chef,” sevika replied, restarting her batter and taking a deep breath,

“and when was the last time you did quick checks?”

“twenty three minutes go, chef,”

“for this event? for brunch sevika are you incompetent now?” he asks slamming his hand down on the hard metal of her island, “do you not know how quickly breakfast foods go? you need checks every ten chef,”

“yes, chef,”

“but here you are doing a choux a second time, something so simple you could do it asleep,”

“sorry chef,” sevika says, she couldn’t explain herself even if she wanted to. there was no conversation with silco — he talks and sevika listens, learns and adapts.

“we’re wasting piltover resources on undercity scum for charity we do not pay for fucking incompetence,” silco says so loudly the kitchen goes quiet for a moment. sevika can’t hear or see anything anymore. can’t hear silco asking her how she got into this industry, why she thought she was good enough. told her that she would never be good enough.

“are you fucking mute?” silco asks.

“no chef,” sevika says void of emotion.

“they chose you, despite my protestations. yes you are creative - but you have no work ethic” chef silco rounds her station,

“I’ll do better chef,” sevika says starting to pipe her choux, these were perfect.

“and here you are, disappointing me, as expected. but what do I know, right?”

there are people glancing nervously, they liked sevika, they were a family when silco wasn’t around and spent months trying to convince her that they loved her, regardless of where she came from which was “pretty fucking cool” according to them. they had finally started to get her to believe that she wasn’t a good chef she was great, one of the best — all that work undone in a moment.

sevika spent hours after her shift fucking up the punching bag at the gym, by the time she’s home — she’d cried for over an hour in the gym shower and now she was kind of just pissed. she didn’t want to feel small or afraid. she was a good chef — inside she knew that. she made a mistake and she couldn’t afford any inconsistency, it gave her heart palpitations. she wanted to be respected, revered, praised and when she enters your shared home she knows you’ll give yourself over to her in that way, you always do.

when she crawls into your bed, you put down your book and start to scratch through her damp hair and kiss her forehead, you can tell from the look on her face. “bad day?” you ask gently as she pulls you over her lap to straddle her lap. she rubs her hands over your thighs, grunting when you roll your hips and she smacks your ass. you’re stunning, sitting above her in her sweater, it’s falling off your shoulder and she feels your neck is too clean so she sits up to lick and kiss and suck on your neck so she can hear your pretty moans.

“promise, I’ll make it better,” you yelp and your breath hitches when she smacks your ass. you pull her face toward hers and kiss her feverently, licking into her mouth and moaning as she sucks on your tongue.

she pants into your mouth, her arms around her, guiding you to grind down on her. kisses you, her lips tasting and biting and sucking yours.

“get on your knees for me baby,” sevika pants, watching you kneel between her legs, moaning when you arch your back. you bend down so you’re nuzzling her mound, your ass on display for her. and she’s got a wet spot on her boxers, “yeah,” sev moans — “boxers off” she pants as you kiss her through her underwear, instead - teasing sucking and moaning around her clit.

“get them off, now sweetpea or you won’t cum for a week,” sevika nods “good girl,” when you scramble your remove her underwear and she whimpers when you face her cunt, warm and leaking as your dip your fingers through her lips, the soft hair of her mound against your cheek.

“please,” you gasp out, near burying your face between her legs but tittering on the edge - waiting for permission.

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” she tuts, a hand in your hair, tugging gently and keeping your head away from her pussy — all she wants it so suffocate you with her cunt but god did she love to hear you beg. “tell me you want me, beg to eat me out,”

“want to make you feel good sevika, please I need it, makes me feel good tasting you,”

“fuck you’re pathetic, so needy for my cunt aren’t you,”

you moans and kiss and suck her inner thighs,

“need to see you cum. please you take such good care of me — of everything, want you to feel good,” you whimper as sevika whispers out praise, “what a pretty slut I have — so needy just to get me off.”

sevika guides your face towards her cunt and — “come on be a good, dumb little fuck toy and eat my pussy baby,” you whine, your hips sharply meeting the bed, your body going weak as you taste her. her soft, wet pussy lips rubbing on your cheeks as you lick into her, going to suck on her clit after running your tongue up and down her slit, tasting her sweet and tart cunt.

“god, yeah good — jus like that,” she’s already on edge, so pent up, her back is tightening when you moan around her, she looks down and sees that you’re rutting against the bed, grinding on the sheets between your thighs as you eat her. “fuck, so riled up huh? you need this as much as I do - don’t you honey? yeah, christ just like that,” she groans when you dip your tongue into her leaking hole.

“fuck you’re such a slut, getting off on making me feel good — so needy for me,” she moans, cupping the back of your head and holding you to her as you start to suck and roll your tongue against the underside of her clit. “fuck lemme - let me fuck y-your face just a little baby,” she huffs “stick your tongue out for me, wanna use your mouth just a little,” sevika moans loudly as you whimper around her clit and she starts to buck her hips against your face.

sevika groans, her hips near lifting off the bed as she grips your head and guides your mouth, bobbing your head as you suck on her clit, moaning at the sounds of you slurping at her, whimpering against her.

“so good baby,” sevika moans “so good letting me use you like this, my perfect girl,” she whimpers you shift up a little bit, her thighs resting on your shoulders. you twitch, your thighs twisting together as you salivate on her pussy, pulling her close the feeling of the soft sheets on your clit, your lacy panties rubbing your swollen nub. your head is dizzy, her taste leaking into your mouth you swallow gratefully and moan, your hips twitching.

“oh my god, loot at you, actually fucking getting off, shit baby, you’re the prettiest slut I’m so lucky to have you,” she moans and you whine your nails biting into her thighs, you look up at sevika meeting her hooded eyes, “I love you baby,” she moans and your eyes roll back in your head as you cum.

seeing you cum all from eating her out, the feeling your you licking and sucking her cunt, your tongue rolling against her as she controls your movements, controls your pleasure. fuck, she’s cumming — holding your head in place she’s riding your face, hot white pleasure warming her body.

“f-fingers, fingers!” she whines when you sink two fingers into her and curl until you’re rubbing the perfect spot, fucking into her until she’s squirting, wetting your face and leaking down onto the sheets, you’re moaning and sucking at her clit and drinking all her pussy offers until she’s pushing your head away from oversensitivity, moaning when you resist her and keep fucking your fingers into her, sucking gently on her clit.

“fucking brat, shit, mm’gonna — keep -“ she’s fucking drunk on pleasure, her hands solely resting on your head as you fuck her into another orgasm.

when she comes down and you let off her clit, gently slipping your fingers from her and crawling up to have her bury her head between your tits and brush her hair away from her face.

“fuck thank you,” she sighs, pulling you in close and wrapping her arms around you, “I love taking care of you vika,” you say, kissing her face with sticky lips and then kissing her mouth.

“need to clean you up, maybe we take a bath and you can tell me about today?” you ask gently and sevika nods, you run the bath and fetch her when the water is hot and soapy. she can feel her muscles relax, smell the lavender and eucalyptus essential oils and,

“did you put the cbd oils in here?” she asks and you slide in, getting between her thighs - your legs on either side of her hips.

“yes, and I brought a joint,” you say as if it’s obvious, she smiles and kisses you, and puffs on it,

“I fucking hate silco,” she groans and fills to air around you with her exhale,

“I’m gonna kill him,” you say, “he terrorises you,”

“today i fucked up a choux and he called me undercity scum,” she sighs, she can only laugh about it now, but you’re enraged.

“what the fuck?” you say, trying to stand but sevika tugs you down by your arm, “no, I’m calling the resturant he can’t talk to you like that,” you say, “you’re not scum, you’re the best person I know,” you say sternly and sevika smiles at your protective nature.

“I know, because you remind me every day,” she pulls you closer and stuff the joint head in your mouth, “there, pacify yourself, I’m fine,” she grunts and kisses your cheek.

🤲🏼🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul @ariariarr

[spinchip]

He keeps ending up in these situations- these soft, quiet moments with Zane where everything Lloyd wants to say is crowding behind his teeth before he swallows it all back down. He never felt bold enough to disturb the piece, or maybe he never felt sure-footed enough to navigate the conversation. The land around the topic of the Never Realm was still littered with landmines and sinkholes. Zane didn't talk to them about it.

They're stargazing. Lloyd was out here first basking in the rare alone time. He'd turned Kai away two hours ago when he'd come to check on him, but when Zane stood over him and blotted out the stars with a weak smile- Lloyd invited him to stay, and promised himself he wouldn't shelve this conversation for another day.

He's look at Ursa Major when he says it, "I'm Afraid you'll never be okay again."

There's a soft pause.

"I am okay, Lloyd." Zane reassures him in a voice that is so much more monotone than before the Never Realm, "Therapy has been extremely rewarding. I feel like myself again."

He sits up, propping himself up on arms that don’t tremble, “You’re not yourself, though.” He feels like he has to force the words out from behind the lump in his throat, “You don’t cook, or meditate, or bird watch anymore-” He stops to center himself, “...I’m scared you’ll never go back to normal.”

Zane is the quiet one this time.

Lloyd lies back down, feeling worse than before. They watch the stars trek across the sky.

“I believe this is the new normal, Lloyd.” He says very, very quietly.

Immediately Lloyd sits up again, twisting to face Zane, “How can you say that? Two months ago you were acting totally fine! Yeah, when you came back from the Never Realm you spent a whole month alone in your room... but then you were Zane again, and now- now you’re…”

“Different.” Zane finishes, “I have changed.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd turn forward, staring down in his lap.

No one says anything. Lloyd feels like he's royally blowing this conversation and making everything worse.

“...When I first returned from the Never Realm, I was... in a dark place. It was easier to hide and sort through things on my own, But I… had not dealt with it as well as I could have. After I spent that time alone and I returned to the team, once more joining with the group socially, I was still a mess. I did not know who I was, and I did not feel like anyone- not Zane, and not the emperor. So I looked in my memory banks and pretended.”

Lloyd looks back at Zane, who’s eyes are fixed resolutely on the moon and not Lloyd's reaction. “You… what?”

“I did not want to worry you. My theory was that If i acted like I was okay, I would be. I hoped I could figure it all out before anyone realized I was wearing a mask, that I could fix myself to the point where I could stop pretending.” He links his hands together on top of his stomach, “Then Cyrus Borg put me in touch with his therapist." Two times a week, every Monday and Thursday. Lloyd knew that. "She helped me realize that this act I was putting on was not a positive move for me and my recovery. It is not that I have regressed, Lloyd- i have simply stopped pretending to be who I used to be.”

“You were trying to protect us?”

There’s another pause, “It was partly selfish, too. I was… afraid. I was scared that if you and the others realized just how much I had changed, you would not see me the same. That the love you had for me would not be able to adapt to who I have become.”

“I- of course we would love you! Always!” Lloyd insisted immediately, “It’s not- I didn’t mean- I was just worried. I’m sorry.” He feels shame curdle in his gut at his earlier words, unintentionally picking at Zane's insecurity.

“I understand your feelings, Lloyd. You do not need to apologize,” He smiles softly at him and its not the same smile Lloyd is so used to, but it has its own warmth, “Change is not… a bad thing. The circumstances leading to this were, but this is what healing looks like for me at this point. I am figuring out who I am again- I do not bird watch or cook or meditate, no, but I think you’ll be surprised at how good my knitting has gotten.” He offers Lloyd another tiny smile, “I am finding my happiness again.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Zane's soft blue eyes flicker back up to the stars and his smile turns gentle, “You are always helping, even if you do not realize it. All of you are.”

[lushrue]

I don't know if this is good but maybe, you can write something about maybe ice skater! reader being unfairly graded (i don't know how the point system works) or maybe ice hockey! 141 getting in a fight during a game and it gets kinda serious? Just a suggestion ofcourse, no pressure!❤ (Sorry if i'm akward, this is my first time sendinag and ask.)

thanks for the request, anon! your ask is great, no sweat! i’m gonna expand more on the second part of your request cause i’ll be honest, i’m not sure how scoring works for figure skating either lol!

but if reader gets a score that’s anything less than what they were expecting, no one’s gonna be happy. johnny’s raising a stink and probably cursing at the judges under his breath with words only he can understand. price is trying to rationalize it, cause he was sure you deserved higher than that. ghost seethes quietly, but he lets it go because these things happen sometimes. and kyle is just there for you, there to provide comfort or reassurance, whatever you need.

OKAY SO if the 141 got into a serious fight on the ice, for sure someone’s walking away bloody. whether it’s them or the other guy, it’s gotta be bad if all four of them are dog-piling on the opposing team. it probably starts with some cocksure rookie mouthing off, chirping about someone’s mother or sister or worse, you. they just can’t let that stand, someone insulting your honor like that! they’re gentlemen above all!

it’s probably ghost who throws the first punch. he’s the defenseman after all, his position is naturally a bit more physical than the rest of them. he doesn’t need words to fight back, he’s got fists that work just fine. that’s where johnny comes in, our favorite resident hothead. he’s swearing up a storm, hurling insults just to keep tensions high. he’s not done with a fight until someone’s on the ground. and he hasn’t gotten the chance to knock someone out yet this season.

price initially comes in as the peacemaker, trying to call off his attack dogs. “always on a hair trigger, those two,” he’d mumble under his breath. but the minute he hears what they’re saying or gets a punch thrown his way, he’s right there in the fray with everyone else. he tells himself it’s in defense of his boys, but he can’t deny the fire that burns hot in his belly when someone insults you. kyle is the last to join, but that doesn’t mean he’s not as passionate as the rest of them. he’s been chirping across the ice the whole time, choosing to fight at arm’s length rather than engage in contact. after all, someone has to remain penalty-free in this whole mess. he’s easily provoked to lashing out, though. call his pretty thing a rude name one more time, he dares you.

you’re torn as you watch in the stands, the refs skating in and trying to break everyone up. you can see that someone’s injured; there’s drops of blood on the ice, so play isn’t resuming for at least another 10 minutes. you know this needs to stop, that they need to cool off. but something stirs in you, watching your men fight fisticuffs on the ice. you think you catch johnny look back to make sure you’re watching before throwing a particularly bruising right hook. but of course, it ends eventually. you’re there in the locker room while the rink staff scrapes the ice to clean it, nursing johnny’s split lip while checking in with the rest. they’re all fine, thank goodness, just a couple bruised jaws and egos. "y'should see th'other guy," johnny mutters around the paper towel you're holding against his lip.

cheeky bastards, you think to yourself. always getting into trouble.

[peachhcs]

summer days

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

a small glimpse into spending the summer on the lake with the hughes siblings + company

1.7k words

as requested, here’s samy & the guys enjoying a fun day on the lake. this takes place a few weeks before samy + will talk during their vacation. i also didn’t know how to really end this so if it’s bad i’m sorry lol btw i'm sorry for my lack of posts, i've been super busy so i got a little behind!

au masterlist

"come on, moose, you don't ever back down from a challenge," ethan hollered from across the boat where mark, rutger, gavin, dylan and seamus all sat watching their friend bicker back and forth with jack.

samy snickered along with kayleigh, hannah, ryan, gabe, drew, and aram from the other side of the boat. it started with jack bragging about how he had the record for being able to stay up on the board longer than any of his siblings. luke's always been the most competitive out of the four of them, so he took jack's words to heart, arguing he stayed on way longer. of course, the middle hughes challenged his younger brother to a friendly competition.

"alright, fine. fine. you're on," luke shook jack's hand like they were making a deal. the older brother smirked, looking to quinn who was amused by the entire thing.

"okay, i'm up first then," jack dropped the board into the water before zipping up into his life jacket.

"jesus, you guys are competitive," hannah rolled her eyes slightly making samy giggle.

"just be glad i didn't decide to join in. we all know i can stay on way longer than them," the youngest hughes hummed, eyes landing on luke who heard all of it.

"don't you start with me, too," the boy warned her making samy shrug.

"what? you're just scared all of us are better than you," she stuck her tongue out making the guys laugh.

"keep talking and i'll throw you off the boat," luke's tone went flat, but samy knew he was just messing with her. he was trying to act tough as always in front of his friends because his little sister could not be better at him at wakeboarding.

"maybe we should add the rest of the siblings into this friendly fire," jack grinned, overhearing the conversation.

"hey, i'm in. you guys know i'm way better than all of you combined," the younger brunette stood, throwing her own life jacket on.

"is that so? why don't you go first then. show us how it's done if you're so much better than us," jack held his hand out to where the board was, the rope in his other hand.

"you're on," samy said before she jumped into the lake.

she came back up and climbed her way onto the board while jack handed her the tug rope. hannah and kayleigh shot their friend two thumbs up while samy gave quinn her own thumbs up indicating she was good to go.

the oldest hughes revved up the engine again and started pulling samy along. she glided across the water before quinn went fast enough to create waves. the guys cheered the girl on while jack kept the time on his phone.

she hit some of the waves in impressive jumps, letting the board take her across the water. "shit, she may be better than you guys after all," mark laughed.

"shut up," luke rolled his eyes in annoyance, but he secretly was impressed that samy hadn't fallen off yet. she never stayed on for more than minute when they were younger and now they were significantly past a minute.

the boat began rounding a corner, so samy leaned back, dipping her finger tips into the wave while the other held the rope tightly. jack checked the time again and saw that his sister was inching closer to five minutes which was a near record for her because she never lasted until then.

"looks like we got some real competition, huh?" jack nudged luke's arm, a smile spreading across his lips.

as much as luke wanted to be mad, he couldn't. he enjoyed seeing samy take on the waves that were once so hard for he. plus, seeing her as happy as them put a smile on his face because it meant she wasn't thinking about will.

after another couple of minutes, samy fell off. everyone on the clapped for the younger girl while quinn slowed the boat back down and circled back around for her. jack and luke helped her back on and held their hands out for high-fives.

"awesome run little hughesy," jack side hugged his sister.

"i guess you have been practicing," luke hummed making the girl giggle.

"i mean i have to do something while you guys aren't here," she threw her life jacket off before going to accept her high-fives from everyone else.

with jack and luke being a bit rusty, they didn't stay on as long as they did normally. jack would complain and say it was his shoulder still healing, while luke mumbled something about being away making him "lose his talent." despite it, the others enjoyed seeing the siblings bickering with one another about stupid things. it always felt like summer whenever the hughes kids got into it with one another for some friendly fire.

samy even convinced hannah to finally give it a go after her refusing to try it. she only stayed on for a minute, but the others cheered for her bravery. gabe and ryan started getting good at it after spending the last three years trying to perfect their form while the other two were too afraid to do it still.

things died down a bit after an hour. everyone spread themselves out while quinn drove them back towards the house. samy sat on the bench with her legs curled to her chest and nose in a book when gabe plopped himself down beside her. she turned to him, smiling a bit.

"hey," the brunette hummed.

"hey. reading anything good?" gabe asked, trying to catch a glance of her book.

"just this memoir. it's actually really good," she showed the boy the cover that read everything i know about love. it was something samy heard about online and wanted to give it a try considering she'd just gotten out of a relationship.

"looks good. this was a fun day," the dark-haired boy said, gaze falling across everyone on their phones or close to sleep from the long day in the sun.

"yeah, it was. i always like entertaining my brother's teasing. although, it still has felt..different. i hate that we're missing.." samy trailed off, but she didn't need to say their names for gabe to know who she was talking about.

"yeah, i get it," the hockey player frowned.

"i just hate that everything is like ruined between all of us. i mean..of course will didn't want to come. grace probably felt weird coming too," the lake house wasn't the same without the smith siblings there and everyone knew it.

"you know they would've been here if they could've. will's got his many things to do before joining the sharks and grace is searching for places and a job. you'll still see them for the family vacation," gabe found samy's gaze again.

"the family vacation is more of a forced thing. just being here..i know will's trying to busy himself as an excuse for not coming. it's probably better like this anyway because i didn't want to really see him anyway," the girl sighed a little. even if he did break her heart, she still thought he'd come to the lake house this summer.

"but you wished he was here, right?"

samy didn't respond. instead, she refocused her attention on her book leaving gabe to sit beside her in silence. the two didn't speak until they reached the dock again where samy scrambled up to help tie the boat in with her brothers. once they secured everything, she beelined to the house.

her bedroom door shut tightly, locking herself in for a moment. she dug her phone out from her pocket where she clicked around until bauer hockey's instagram page lit up her screen. for a moment, samy stared at the pictures of will on her screen and his huge smile like nothing was wrong. he looked so happy in all of them like he was having a blast and here she was with him stuck in her mind.

she probably hadn't even crossed his mind once.

samy threw her phone on her bed, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips. she shouldn't do this to herself. it was summer. she wasn't going to waste these months sulking about him when nothing mattered but being outside and getting really bad sunburns.

"samy? you in here?" ryan's voice startled the girl when he knocked. she quickly popped the door back open a crack where the taller brunette stood on the other side with a raised eyebrow.

"hey, sorry. just looking for something," she mustered her best smile.

"okay, just checking in. you kind of took off once we docked," ryan laughed a bit while samy forced her own little chuckle.

"yeah, my bad. i'll be down in a second," with that, ryan left and samy released the breath she was holding in.

she quickly changed out of her suit back into some more comfortable clothes before racing back downstairs. the others piled into the kitchen searching for something that wasn't the snacks they ate all day.

"shit, i'm starving," gavin mumbled as he stuffed leftovers into his mouth.

"you guys are disgusting," hannah rolled her eyes, tugging her brother out of the way in search of her own food.

"nice shirt," someone nudged samy's arm. gabe stood at her side again, eyeing the clothes on her body. the girl's gaze flicked down, widening a bit when her shirt read boston college hockey across the front because everyone knew who that belonged to.

"m-must've been mixed into my clothes still," she managed weakly. gabe just shrugged.

"you know it's not too late to..reach out?" his voices lowered a few tones so no one else heard.

almost immediately, samy's expression crinkled up, "no way. he's busy with the bauer combine. plus, i'm sure he's met a bunch of other girls there anyway."

gabe didn't say anything, but all he could think about as samy said that was the call him and ryan got from the blonde a few days ago while he had a panic attack in a bathroom. now if only samy knew that..

"guys, wait! you know what i just realized we haven't done yet this summer?" ethan quickly spoke up, catching everyone's attention.

his gaze turned to samy's, flashing with some sort of mischief as he began inching closer to the younger girl. "i think it's time for throwing samy into the pool!" the older boy exclaimed before running at her.

samy shrieked, pushing gabe out of the way as she attempted to run away from her brother's friends despite them rounding every corner in means of capturing her.

[taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme]

lash out (Spencer Reid x fem!reader)

Summary: Spencer is stressed out and messes up bad

Y/n is sitting on the couch watching TV waiting for Spencer to return home from a case. She is excitedly waiting as she hasn't seen him in a week.

The front door opens and in walks Spencer.

"Spence!! I missed you so much, welcome home!" Y/n exclaims and moves to hug him

Spencer walks in and brushes her off while only nodding his head in response. Very unusual behavior for him.

Very taken aback, Y/n begins to think if she has done anything wrong and wants to help him.

"Spence... what's wrong? Did I do something? How can I help?" She asks 

Spencer becomes even more irritated at this and lashes out.

"God Y/n just leave me alone! I don't need you nagging me all the time. I just got back from a case and I need some peace and quiet, can't you understand that?"

Tears immediately well up in her eyes and she slowly steps back from him.

"I'm sorry if I did anything to upset you Spencer. I just want to help." Y/n says as she walks to the front door where her car keys are.

"I'll go stay at a friend's house and give you your alone time." She states sadly

Spencer hears the tone in her voice and is filled with regret.

"Baby no-" he starts to say but she is already gone.

Spencer feels awful. He never meant to take his anger out on her. Y/n is absolutely perfect. She keeps him sane and loves him for him. And now he broke her heart.

He decides to see if she has already left and runs out the door to the parking lot of their apartment.

He sees her sitting in the car with her head in her hands, sobbing.

His heart shatters at the sight, even more knowing he caused it.

Spencer walks up to the car and knocks on the window. Y/n jumps from the noise but calms when she sees it's Spencer.

She rolls down the window and stares at him.

"I am so sorry baby. I feel terrible. I was very frustrated and took my anger out on you, which is not ok." Spencer begins to say

"I love you so much. I should have never done that to you. I love when you are around and I never want you to feel like you have to leave your home. You were not nagging me, I was just stressed from the case." He says

"You are so perfect. I hate that I made you feel this way, my love." Spencer finishes

Y/n sniffles and turns off the car, getting out. She walks into his arms and gives him a big hug.

"Thank you Spencer. I love you so much. Please never do that again, I don't think I can handle it." She says to him

"Never. Never again baby." He replies

Spencer leads her back into their shared home and into their bedroom.

He picks out one of his sweatshirts for her to wear and gives it to her while getting his own pajamas on.

Once in bed, he pulls her to him. He kisses her lips and all over her face. "I" he leaves a kiss on her cheek "love" her forehead "you" nose "so" head "much" and leans in to kiss her lips.

"I love you Spence." She replies 

He runs his fingers through her hair and whispers sweet nothings into her ear as she falls asleep in his arms.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Demon Children Are Multiplying

This idea is still stuck in my head, and I might even end up writing something out of it, but for now, I just thought of something equally really, really stupid and really, really funny.

What if I combine that idea with Al Ghul Twins. I don't know how. Maybe Talia was cautious about Ra's not wanting to keep two kids for a position of Heir, or maybe she staged Danny's death, or maybe something else entirely happened. But anyway, Danny is Damian's twin.

Then, Dani is the same age as Danny in this AU. And Dan is de-aged to be the same age as both of them.

Now behold an absolute train wreck of a situation where Bruce attends a Gala hosted by Vladimir Masters. Together with Damian, of course, and maybe other batkids are there too. They all part their ways to make their rounds or whatnot. And they all keep seeing Damian wherever they go. Just everywhere.

Dick is talking to someone, and Damian walks past him, not paying him any attention. Which is not surprising, but a little rude, and, wait, wasn't he wearing a red tie? When did he change it to green one?

Tim is just going on the top floor to greet a lady he recognizes from some other event, and Damian all but storms in the opposite direction, only letting Tim catch a glimpse of his face. But when Tim turns around, he is really confused: the person running down the stairs is clearly a girl, albeit she is wearing a suit. Her long hair is up in a complicated braid. Why did he even mistake her for Damian?

But the ultimate confusion happens when Bruce is talking to Vladimir Masters, and a very familiar voice calls, "Father". Because both he and Vladimir turn to face the boy and ask, "Yes?" at the same time.

Damian is standing there, looking between Bruce and Vlad. He looks a little off somehow, but before Bruce can figure out why, the boy blinks and focuses on Vlad.

"We've been looking for you," he tells the man, and, wait, when was Damian looking for Masters? Furthermore, who is we?

But then another child comes closer. And-

That's Damian.

That's two Damians.

Wait, no, none of them are Damians.

"What is it?" Vladimir raises an eyebrow, not paying too much attention to Bruce's blanched expression.

A third child comes towards them, and this one also looks like Damian, only this one is a girl.

"Template's duplicate is here," she says, and Vlad frowns, turning to the Damian lookalike in the middle.

"Have you had another incident that I don't know of?"

Whatever answer the boy wanted to give is cut off by a n o t h e r child who looks like- no, this is real Damian, thank God, Bruce had started to wonder if the champagne was spiked with hallucinogens.

"Father-" he stops in his tracks as the three other children turn to him, and the four of them just stare at each other for a long moment. Then the one in the middle takes a sharp breath in and stage-whispers:

"Quick, do the meme!"

And all three not-Damians start pointing at each other.

Bruce is going to have an aneurysm. Judging by Vladimir's face, he is also not far from one.

Just my ramblings under the cut

I think you all know what meme I'm talking about, but I'm still gonna add it

This is so fucking hilarious to me, I'm sorry, I just can't

Danny is not missing this opportunity of a lifetime, even though Vlad specifically asked all three of them not to cause a scene. And yes, they all call Vlad "father" just for the spite of it or for shits and giggles. I'm going with Bad Fentons idea here, although I'm not sure to which degree they are bad, but anyway, Vlad is their legal guardian, and he is redeemed.

Yes, Dick took a picture. Yes, it's already in the group chat. Yes, other batkids are going wild.

Damian is greatly confused because, first, he thought there was a clone of him at the gala, but apparently, there were three of them, and second, why are they pointing at each other? Should he join them? He is under the assumption his brother is dead (he's not exactly wrong on that account), or he doesn't even know he existed.

This is as far as I got now, feel free to add anything!

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 6 - The Butterfly Effect

Read on AO3

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N (2nd POV but Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Poorly translated Spanish, Lots of introspection

~4.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly nothing particularly bad happens this chapter.

John gives you space for the next few days, letting you settle in around the edges of his own routine. You’ve always been an early riser, and so is he, but he starts every day with a run, and you prefer a slower pace. You’ve taken to coming downstairs after you hear the front door close, and stretch on the living room floor (you wouldn’t call it yoga, but you’ve spent the last few years keeping up with the Kinsey kids, and you know how important it is to maintain flexibility), and make coffee before you go back upstairs to get dressed and ready for the day. John always showers first thing after his run, but after the second day he starts taking off his shirt before he drinks a glass of water at the sink, watching you from the corner of his eye to see if you’re looking.

And maybe sometimes you are. It would be a useless endeavour, pretending that he’s not nice to look at. He’s big, barrel-chested, with thick, muscular arms, and he’s hairy in a way that’s unbelievably attractive, and he gleams with sweat after his runs. If he didn’t look so damn smug every time he catches you looking, you’d probably gladly spend a few long minutes studying him. Something about the man makes your fingers itch to pick up a pencil.

You just orbit around each other for those first few days. He’s working on some project outside, and you putter around the house a bit and look for new jobs online. You were surprised that he didn’t confiscate your laptop to keep you from calling for a rescue, but he made no effort to stop you from using your laptop or your phone. Perhaps he’d really listened when you’d tried to set boundaries. He’s certainly given you space to adjust.

On Wednesday, you video call your Lola— It’s been routine for ages, since you always had Sundays and Wednesdays off from work— and catch up. You start the call shortly after John leaves, to give yourself some time to talk privately. It’s nice to see her familiar, wrinkled brown face, even if she’s half the world away from you.

She clocks that you’re not at home right away, and gets that sly, knowing smile when you tell her you’re staying with a friend. “¿Estás viendo a alguien?” she asks. “¿Un joven tal vez?” Are you seeing someone? A young man perhaps?

“No nada de eso. Sólo quedarme con un amigo.” No, nothing like that. Just staying with a friend. Once again, lying to make it seem like you’re not in trouble. It’s not like your Lola would be able to do anything about your situation anyway. You would just worry her.

Of course, Lola is much too observant not to see that you're hiding something-- Even if all she sees of you is a video call once a week, you're her granddaughter and she knows you. "Dalisay," she says, her tone a mocking approximation of sternness. "Eres una mujer adulta. Me gustaría saber que eres feliz, que estás saliendo con alguien agradable. No tienes que mentirme. Mientele a tu otra abuela.” You are a grown woman. I would like to know you're happy, that you’re seeing someone kind. You don't have to lie to me. Lie to your other grandmother.

You laugh. "¡Es complicado Lola! Él es—" It's complicated Lola! He's—

The door opens, and John limps back in, early. "Rolled my ankle," he explains, taking your wide-eyed look as concern. "Just need some ice."

"Muéstramelo," Lola demands, laughing. "Tiene una voz hermosa.” Show him to me. He has a handsome voice.

John turns toward you, frowning. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"I always call Lola on Wednesdays-- John, sit down, you need to ice your ankle, what are you doing?"

He's standing on one leg, in the middle of the kitchen, fishing a mug out of the cupboard rather than getting something cold and sitting right down. "I--"

You're not sure what possesses you, but you get up, and you make him sit, and you go to make him his coffee and wrap a bag of frozen peas in a tea towel. When you turn around, he's reached across the table to pull your laptop closer, smiling at the camera when Lola claps he hands together, beaming.

"Es guapo, Dalisay. Pero no joven, ¿eh?" She says, laughing. He's handsome, Dalisay. But not young, huh?

"No," he agrees, "soy demasiado viejo para ella. Todavía soy lo suficientemente egoísta como para intentarlo de todos modos.” I'm too old for her. I'm still selfish enough to try anyway. Lola laughs at his honesty, pleased with John already.

You set down the coffee and glare at him. But you gently set the ice pack on his raised ankle. He pulls you into his lap, sitting you on his other thigh. "John!" You protest.

"Oh, relájate, apo,” Lola chides, unhelpfully reading the situation just the way John wants her to. She seems impressed by John's accented Spanish, happy to not need to translate her words to English to speak with him. She speaks English perfectly well, but she prefers Spanish, calls English clunky and ungraceful. "Yo también fui joven una vez. Me preocupaba que ella nunca encontrara a alguien.” Oh lighten up, apo. I was young once too. I was worried she would never find someone.

"No es que ella no pudiera,” John says. "Ella es tan hermosa, pero mantiene la distancia." It's not that she couldn't. She's so beautiful, but she keeps her distance.

“John, stop that,” you say, and you do mean the way he’s talking, but you also mean the hand that’s firmly gripping your hip, kneading your soft flesh. It’s not hard enough to bruise, not even enough to hurt, but it’s distracting, and makes your heart flutter. The movement is also hitching your skirt up a little higher on your thighs.

The innocent, laughing look he gives you is no help. “Sorry, love.” He kisses your shoulder, his hand sliding up to your waist instead.

You glance over at the screen, wincing when you see two of your cousins crowded into the screen with Lola, all of them stifling laughter and one of them holding a chubby baby.

“He needs to buy you a ring, cuz,” Ligaya says, waving her baby’s chubby hand at you. “Say hello Berting, that’s your auntie Dalisay and her boyfriend.” She and her sister, Ceci dissolve into giggles. The baby laughs too, although he doesn’t have any idea what’s going on around him.

“He’s too old to be anyone’s boyfriend,” you grouse.

“He looks more like husband material to me,” Ceci crows. She points a threatening finger at the webcam. “You’d better be good to her! She’s our favourite cousin.”

“Y mi nieta favorita,” Lola says, And my favourite granddaughter, cupping her hand around her mouth as if that would keep Ligaya and Ceci from hearing her. They both laugh, unoffended, Ceci batting Lola’s shoulder lightly.

“I will,” John promises. “She makes it easy. She’s much too good for the likes of me.”

“And don’t you forget it, English!” Ligaya agrees. “Are you coming to see us for Christmas this year, Lisay? There’s at least four babies you haven’t met yet.”

“I’m not sure I can afford to this year. We’ll see if I can find work—”

“¿Qué pasó? ¿Perdiste tu trabajo?” Lola asks. What happened? Did you lose your job?

“You practically raised those niños!” Ligaya protests, as if that would change the facts of the matter. “They love you!”

You grimace, and haltingly explain that Mr. Kinsey had made a pass at you, and you’d been fired so that he and his wife could work out their marital issues. Apparently you’d been just too tempting to have around, despite the fact that you had less than zero interest in your former employer. By the end of your explanation, Lola looks ready to fight, and Ligaya and Ceci both look furious too. “It’s alright,” you say, trying to convince yourself as much as you are them. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave if they didn’t fire me. And I didn’t want to be raising someone else's’ kids forever.”

Ceci wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Yeah, Lisay, you want your own babies, eh?”

“You should start painting again,” Ligaya suggested, flicking Ceci with the hand not currently supporting her son. “You could sell prints online, portrait commissions. You’re as good as your mother, and she made it into that London Gallery.”

Lola notices the way your smile strains and shoos your cousins away. “El consejo es bueno aunque graznan,” she says. “Eres demasiado buena para dejar de pintar.” The advice is good, even if they quack. You’re too good to stop painting.

You change the subject, and Lola talks some about the children, about neighbourhood gossip, catching you up on everything before you end the call. You sigh, sinking into John unconsciously. He’s so big, and so solid, you wish you could do away with that undercurrent of fear ruining the little comfort his arms would provide you otherwise.

“Why’d you stop painting?” he asks.

“It’s not the same anymore.”

“Is anything ever the same?”

You twist to look at him. His eyes are too blue, piercing though you like he’s able to read the thoughts in your head. You have to remind yourself that he can’t, that he doesn’t know you well enough even to guess. You’re getting to know him pretty well though, and you recognize this earnestness, this plea to let him in, to let him help. John is a man who needs to do something all the time, that needs to focus on a task. You wonder what it is that nips at his heels so sharply— Is is inherent, genetic, something unavoidable, written in the core of his very deepest, truest self? Or is it just that he’s running from something, and must stay in motion, driving himself ever forward to keep it from catching up?

“Have you ever lost anyone, John?”

Surprise widens his eyes for a flickering second, before he hides it behind a tight smile. “Think we’re talking about you, Doll.”

“You don’t have to answer. I think it’s just easier to understand, when you have. Painting just reminds me of my mam. It’s like trying to swim with lead shoes on. It’s so hard to keep my head above the water that it’s easier just not to swim.”

“Maybe you could try takin’ off the lead shoes,” he suggested, his arms tightening around you. Levity and reassurance, like he knows exactly what you need. “Or maybe you just shouldn’t go swimmin’ alone.”

“A lifeguard,” you say, rolling the thought around in your head. Maybe that was the problem, the empty space was too apparent when there was no one around to fill it. You’d painted the flowers on the credenza with Ripley there, and that had even been nice. You’d thought it was just a fluke, but you hadn’t really thought about why it had been different. “That’s an interesting thought.”

“Did you have everything you’d need? We can look through the boxes for your supplies.”

You shake your head. “No. Yes. I have watercolours somewhere. Just no acrylics. But I could start with watercolours.”

“Yeah? We can look now, if you like.”

“Maybe in a bit. I’ll make breakfast first.”

“I can do it,” he offers quickly. “I want to take care of you.”

As much as you aren’t quite ready to admit it, he already is. “No, I think it’s my turn. Just give me a minute. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but this is kind of nice.”

He hums his agreement, picking up his coffee. You think he’s doing it so he can’t kiss you, and you’re so pleased that he’s starting to get it that you almost consider kissing him instead.

But you don’t. You just let yourself enjoy the moment.

Maybe that’s enough, for now.

You decide that having him sit and watch you painting would be awkward, so once you hunt down your watercolours and a sketchbook with heavy paper, you set up outside while he works. He’s constructing some kind of frame over a concrete pad, a covered porch, you think. You sit out of the way, facing the copse of trees that surround the house, and the overgrown, weedy garden. It looks like it had been set up early in the season with the best of intentions, but you suspect that it was too hard on his knees and back. He’d made the mistake of planting everything straight in the ground— You probably would have suggested planter boxes, if you’d been here in the spring. Then he could have sat on a stool— It would have helped keep the bunnies out too. The few tomatoes left on an abandoned vine have little bites nibbled out of them— Almost everything has little bites taken out of it.

It makes you smother a laugh. It’s easy to imagine John railing against nature— He’s so stubborn, there’s no way he gave up for a good long time— Cursing the rabbits and deer, leaning over the once-neat rows until his back ached. There’s a pair of rusting garden shears stuck out of the ground, evidence that he quit in a fit of pique some months ago.

He’s looking at you— He has a sense for when you let happiness slip through, like a hound picking up a rabbit’s trail in the woods. You can feel the burn of those bright blue eyes on you, the heavy weight of his attention. Does he make note of everything you smile at? You wonder how long the list is now. Puppies, the Stuart kids, Lola and your cousins, and now his poor attempts at gardening. You haven’t really let much else get past your careful, polite mask, knowing full well that stone-walling him is your best defence. He’s searching for an opening, and once he finds it, he’ll pop you open like a clam.

It seems inevitable. Still, he’ll have to work for it, if he wants you to let him in. He’s already set himself the first of his Herculean tasks, to get you painting again. It would be easier to face the Nemean lion. Your grief has sharp teeth, unblunted even after a decade, still dug deep into your heart.

“You aren’t painting,” John says in your ear. His hands settle on your shoulders, holding you in your seat when surprise would launch you a few centimetres into the air.

You turn your head to look at him, and he’s far too close. “You aren’t working.”

“Takin’ a break. You look like you’re thinkin’ hard about something. What’s on your mind, Doll?”

“Your garden. Must have been a storm of misfortunes to make you give up.”

“Few things get the better of me, but this was one of ‘em. Have to settle for buyin’ produce at the shops like everyone else.”

“It’s not really so hard.”

“You the expert in gardening?”

“No, I just used to help my gran with her garden. Picked up a thing or two about keeping green things alive.” You take a dry paintbrush and dust it over his fingertips idly.

“That the one we talked to today?” he asks.

“No, that’s Lola. Gran is the Scottish one.”

He hums, smooths out tension in your shoulders with his thumbs, catching the slightest touch of your skin at the collar of your sweater. "Didn't think you had family in the UK."

You tip your head back, looking up at him. He shifts, leaning his forearms on the back of the chair, hanging over you. "Just my Gran, she got remarried a bit before we moved to Manchester. She thought her husbands-- Well, I'll say kids, but they were full adults, older than my mam already-- She thought they were more respectable than my parents. Wouldn't categorize her as a real warm and fuzzy lady."

"You don't talk then?"

"No. Not since my parents died. We had a proper row at the funeral and she's never apologized, and I'm certainly not going to."

"Learnin' a lot about you today, Doll."

“That I’m stubborn and that I distance myself from the people that love me?” you ask, flicking the paintbrush at the tip of his nose. His whole face scrunches, and it’s kind of endearing. You’re already feeling soft about him from this morning, because Lola liked him, and because he didn’t ask if she spoke English, just launched right into Spanish that was a maybe a little rough around the edges, but good enough.

“That,” he agrees. “But I think it’s good that you hold your ground. You’re not stubborn for the sake of it, you say what needs to be said. I’d bet good money that you were in the right.”

“It doesn’t always matter who’s right and who’s wrong, John. Sometimes you have to set aside ego to make things right.”

“Tryin’ to teach an old dog new tricks?” he asks.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll teach yourself. Now go on, get. You’re distracting me.” You wrap your hands around one of his, and press a fleeting kiss to a spot between his thumb and his wrist before releasing him. “And be careful of your ankle. If you need to carry something heavy, let me help you.”

He laughs and withdraws, his shadow sliding over your page as he moves away. “Yes ma’am. You’re pretty cute when you’re bossy.”

“I’m always cute,” you say blithely.

You don’t look at him, so you miss the way he glances back over his shoulder, blue eyes burning. “You’re damn right about that.”

Ducking your head down to hide your smile, you pick your pencil up and look back to the garden. Something about the red-handled shears stuck in the soil speaks to you, so you lightly sketch it out on the page, humming to yourself quietly. The next things you need to hunt down are your headphones and the old mp3 player so you can listen to music while you paint.

There’s something soothing about hearing John work anyway. The whirr of his drill as he screwed framing lumber into place, or the buzz of his saw when he cuts pieces to size. He’s methodical, exacting— What makes him so good at building probably made him a poor gardener too. He can cut and fit pieces of wood together to make any shape he pleases, he can make a plan and nothing will fight back against it, beyond a warped bit of lumber here and there, but a garden grows as it will, and there’s no controlling the wind or the sun or the rain, let alone the creatures that might come looking for something tender and green.

That same struggle plays out between the two of you. He sees a map and a destination where you see a landscape. The journey, the exploration, is what matters to you, the light and shadow, the soft growing things and the hungry teeth that nip at the roots. In his mind he’s already built a house at the top of the hill, and he wants to pull you inside, lay you down, plant his seeds in a different garden, watch something new grow. It’s not simply impatience, but a need for control, for surety.

He exerts that control outwards, bending the world to the shape he likes. You’ve always turned it inwards, pulling in on yourself, turning your life into a safe little cocoon, turning deprivation and isolation into an art. Constructing masks to get you through, reliable scripts, being whomever you need to be to make things easier.

And perhaps it was easy, but it was lonely too.

Maybe they really had done you a favour. By pulling you out of your comfortable routine, they’ve forced you to face yourself, for the first time in ages, to ask yourself what it is that you want, to see who you are.

You feel like a butterfly, wings still damp and unfurling, perched in John’s hand. He could risk letting you fly away, or he could force you to stay by destroying some integral part of you. There’s no telling which path he intends to take, not yet.

You can just hope.

It might be insane— It certainly feels insane— but you really want him to be a good man. Not just out of self-preservation, although it probably weighs something in the equation, but because you want him. He’s right when he says there’s something here, something that’s been rolling around in the back of your mind since Ghost dumped you in his lap. It hasn’t even been a week, but it feels longer.

You keep half an eye on him while you put the first pale washes of colour onto paper. A few small versions first, to get a handle on light and shadow, colour values, just to remember how to mix colours the way you want to, and then start on the larger version, feeling a little more confident.

You’ve just blocked in the base colours when you notice that John’s limping again, and showing no sign of stopping his work. Sighing, you set your paintbrush down and stand. “John,” you say gently, putting yourself in the path between the saw set up and his lumber pile. “It’s time to take a break.”

“No, I’m fine, Doll. Get back to your painting.” He tries to move around you, but you side-step and block his path again. “It’s just a sprain,” he says, exasperated. “I’ve worked through worse.”

As if that was a good reason to ignore pain. “And you never considered that maybe you shouldn’t have had to?”

He frowns down at you. The difference in your heights has to be at least a foot, but he has a funny way of tucking in his chin and hanging his head when you’re standing close like this, and looking at you straight on anyway. A soft little hand settles on his stomach, unbidden— You’re not sure that you’ve instigated contact with him before, it’s always been him reaching out for you, his big hands achingly gentle. Is anyone ever gentle with him? Is he ever gentle with himself?

“The work will still be here tomorrow,” you remind him. “You have time to rest.”

A raindrop splashes on your outstretching arm. The two of you look up in tandem, at a heavy grey cloud that’s rolled over head— It hasn’t blocked out the sun yet, and neither of you had noticed it creeping up— and then at each other. “Guess the weather agrees with you,” John says.

You both scramble apart and into action. John covers the pile of lumber and the saw with tarps, weighed down with a few odd bricks so they won’t blow away, and you quickly pack up the water colours and your paintings. You don’t get there in time to stop a few splashes of rain from hitting the page, but you get everything inside before it’s completely soaked and set it on the kitchen table for the moment.

While you’re filling the kettle and looking outside, watching the rain splash against the window, John comes in too, and looks at your work. “The rain ruined it,” he says. “I should have been paying more attention to the weather.” There’s guilt in his voice, as if it’s his fault that the rain chose to fall where and when it did.

You set the kettle to boil, and join him, studying the paintings. Each of them unrefined— The smaller ones are just work-ups anyway, but the raindrops have warped the colours, creating voids with saturated edges. You wouldn’t say they’re ruined. There’s an artistry to incident, story preserved on paper in a way that your art wouldn’t do alone.

“No, I like it better this way,” you say decisively. “It underlines the theme of futility, don’t you think? How we’re at the mercy of the weather, whether we like it or not.”

“S’pose so,” he admits grudgingly.

His mouth is set so it almost disappears under his moustache. He really does hate the reminder that he has no control over some things. You dash upstairs and grab a couple of towels and tuck them under your arm, and take John’s hand, leading him out onto the front porch.

He follows you without resistance, although there’s a funny, curious look on his face. “What’re you doing?”

You let go, and put the towels down on the bench. “What does it look like I’m doing?” The rain is coming steadily now, the sky turned darker, sun all but blotted out, and it’s cold on your skin when you step out from the shelter and into the downpour. You throw your arms out and spin, laughing.

There are many things in this life that you can’t control. Things that are fixed, unchanged and immovable, laws of nature, the whims of weather, and Captain John Price. But you have choices too. You can try to move a mountain, but you’d be better climbing over it. You can choose to struggle against the current, or let it sweep you along. You can dance in the rain rather than wish it were sunny.

And you can hold out your hand, and invite John to dance with you.

Image Credits: Banner Dividers

[worldofkuro]

So, you do headcanons imagines, stuff like that... Yeah? Can you do one of Alastor, Blitz & maybe Lucifer where someone they care for (S/O or daughter) who has borderline is having a emotional breakdown? Or a splitting episode? I have borderline & I'm not having a good day...

I’m sorry I answered it so late, my dear. I won’t lie, I don’t really do other characters than Alastor, because I think I handle his persona quite well ( I won’t sugarcoat him,dear. So his scenarios can be…rough.). I had to do more research on Lucifer and Blitzø. I hope it will still be good for you.

Alastor: 

Alastor would pity you. How weak of you to be controlled by your emotions, be stronger he doesn’t someone  weak.

He would watch you as you broke down, grinning while spinning his microphone. Your tears were a beautiful spectacle but he was getting tired of it, he needed you to do an errand for him and he was busy being annoyed by you, so you had to go.

He would tap your head, asking for your attention in a silent way. He always hated when you were more concerned about yourself than him. How narcissistic could you be!

When you looked at him, he would smile at you like usual, telling you were making a show of yourself. He couldn’t have that right? He was the star in this hotel !

He would easily calm you down… Well, it’s not calming you down. He would use words that would stun you so hard you would freeze. He would use your insecurities against you to make you feel even more bad than you were feeling but then he would say how amazing he is to keep you by his side even when you were in that state.

You wouldn’t want him to get bored of you, right? So you should cheer up, and give him a big smile! 

In your weakened mind, Alastor’s words sounded like comforting words while it was only condescending manipulation.

In the end, you would go do your errand as Alastor waved you goodbye with a mocking smile.

You were so easy.

“ And don’t forget dear, you are never fully dressed without a smile!”

Blitzø:

Shit, shit shit shit shit !

He would be so lost! He didn’t know how to handle those kinds of emotions, that’s why he ran away from them. He was hesitating between screaming at you to stop being a pussy and hug you.

But it was you… And seeing you in that state really..moved something in him.

He always despited himself, he always pushed away people’s care for him because he knew he would lose their love soon enough. He knew it, he was unlovable. He wasn’t deserving of people caring for him. That he knew.

But when he heard you say those words, the same he thought about himself… He despite it.

He would put you on his knees, his tail wrapping around your ankle and wait for you to calm down. He really was clueless, the only thing he wanted was for you to feel him even when you were lost in this storm of emotion.

Once you began to come back to your senses, he would ask you why you were feeling like that. That might sound stupid, but if you managed to talk about how you were feeling it would help him understand himself better.

He would hug you stronger as you kept stalking. He was just a useless imp… But you didn’t have the right to feel like this, you were better, you were… out of reach. And yet you broke down in his arms.

He would find a solution in sex, I won’t lie. It’s something, bad or good, he used to ground himself, so he might ask if you were in the mood. Maybe that way, you would be able to see how much he cared without him saying it.

“ We’re fine.”

Lucifer:

He would run toward you, maybe crashing against his pile of ducks. He would approach his hand toward your shoulder before taking them back. Did you want to be touched?

Between Alastor, Blitoø and Lucifer, he was the one more capable to understand what you were going through. Sometimes he would feel overweight by the hotness of Hell, wishing for nothing more than to feel the cold air of heaven between his wings.

He knew how feelings could be stronger than oneself, so he would kneeled at your side, and enveloping you in his wings.

He would have his back turned on you and his wings would cover you, making you feel safe, like you were cut from the world you were living in.

Lucifer would sing you a lullaby, a song that he used to sing to Charlie when she was a baby. He would stop when you form would have stopped shaking and you whimper quieted down.

He would turn his head toward you, waiting for you to speak first. If you decided to stay silent, not asking him to sing again, you would stay in a comfortable silence.

He would sometimes wiggle his wings if you touched his feather, wishing to hear your laughter. That’s the least he could do.

He would feel at fault for your conditions, were you like this because you were a sinner? Because he decided to give free will to humans, you had to suffer like this? Your episode would sometimes trigger his own mood drop.

That’s why, when you both were feeling down or you could feel an episode coming and you needed each other, Lucifer would wrap you in his wings, his back turned on you and you would stroke his father from your fingertips.

This was your way of saying, for the both of you.

“ I’m here.”

[mustainegf]

hii! could u maybe write something about reader (james' gf) finding out about the '92 montreal incident so she gets worried and goes as fast as she can to see James and like takes care of him and stuff. sorry if it sounds weird 😭

NO WAY DUDE HOW DID YOU KNOW I ALREADY HAD THIS WRITTEN!?????

𝐔𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 ¹⁹⁹²

The weak backstage lights produced lengthy shadows on the Montreal Forum's walls. The air was alive with expectation and the unmistakable excitement that only a Metallica concert could provide.

I stood there, clutching my laminated pass, my pulse pounding with anticipation and pride. James, my James, was ready to take the stage. I could hear the audience yell, their voices blending.

From my vantage point, I could see the band ready to perform. Lars was stretching and stretching up his arms. Kirk was doing a last minute guitar tune up. And there was James, my beautiful soon to be husband, strapping on his gorgeous double necked guitar.

He caught my glance and offered me that wide grin that made my heart weak. I smiled back, full of pride.

The lights went out, and the noise of the crowd grew. The first beautiful notes of "Fade to Black" flooded the air, bringing the stage to life. I was spellbound as James and kirk controlled the audience. They had the in their palms, just as Kirk was finishing the intro solo.

A sudden flash exploded on stage, followed by a loud boom. Pyro went off in a wild burst, dangerously close to James. His guitar fell quiet, and the audience shifted to a collective cry of confusion. My heart stopped as I frantically searched the stage for him, but he had vanished from view.

"James!" I screamed but my voice became lost in the chaos. Crew members raced forward, and I tried to push through them, thinking only on reaching my poor James. "James! Where is he? What happened?"

"Miss, you need to stay back!" A crew member grabbed my arm and attempted to keep me in place, but I struggled against him, my eyes wide with panic.

"Let me go! I need to see him!" I sobbed, but they weren't going to let me pass. Then, among the bustle, I caught a sight of him.

My heart shattered at the sight. James stumbled up, his body twitching in anguish. His arm, hand, leg, and half of his face were all severely burnt. The flames had licked his flesh, causing furious, crimson blisters. My lungs ceased.

The paramedics arrived immediately, their faces grim. They set him onto a stretcher, and I tried to remain by his side, tears rushing down my cheeks.

"I'm coming with him!" I yelled, unwilling to let them take him without me. They nodded, too preoccupied by their pressing job to argue me.

In the ambulance, I grasped his unharmed hand, my fingers quivering. "I'm here, James. I'm right here," I said, trying to maintain my voice despite the panic. He gazed up at me, his eyes full with pain, clawing at my heart.

"It’s bad," he said, his voice breaking. "It hurts… fuck…"

"I know, sweetheart. I know. Juat hold on. You're so strong. You're gonna be fine," I said quietly, pushing his hair away from his sweat soaked forehead. Every second felt like an hour as the ambulance sped to the hospital.

When we finally arrived, the medical crew brought James into the ER, and I followed, without letting go of his hand. "Please, help him," I begged the doctors as my voice clogged with tears.

"We're doing everything we can," one of them informed me as they began working on him, cleaning up the burns and providing pain medication. James tightened his teeth, so hard I could practically hear them creak, his body straining with the severe pain.

"You're so brave, James. You're doing so good," I said, my voice soft and soothing. "Keep holding on. I'm right here with you." He grasped my fingers weakly, his eyes fluttering open to see mine.

"Don't leave me," he said in a hushed and tired whisper.

"Never," I vowed, my heart hurting for him. "I'm not going anywhere." The hours went by in a flurry of medical procedures and murmured words.

James slipped in and out of consciousness, his body unable to cope with the agony.

I never left his side. I held his hand, ran my fingers through his hair, and whispered love. "You're so strong, James. You're gonna get through this. I love you so much," I said softly, tears cascading down my face

They wrapped his burns in bandages and gave medication to help with the pain. James was so exhausted, his face pale and shadowed, but he was alive.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a difficult mix of pain and thankfulness. "I love you," he said hoarsely.

"I love you too," I replied, kissing his forehead gently. "Rest now. I'll be right here when you wake up."

In the early hours of the morning, at about 4 am, I woke up beside James in the hospital. The room was dark, bathed in blue, except that the soft beeping of monitors tracing his vital signs had a more prominent illumination.

My body ached from this outsized chair, but I really didn't care. I just felt good to be with him.

A soft whimper drew my attention, and I turned to face James's pain lashed face. His cheeks were streaked with tears, washing away some of the grime and soot stuck to his skin.

My heart broke all over again.

"James," I whispered, moving closer, my hand finding his. "What's wrong, baby? Tell me."

He swore viciously, sawed and raw. "I'll never play guitar again," he said, his teeth clenched. "I'm ruined. And I'm in.. so much fucking pain." His voice cracked, and he twisted his head away from me, as if he couldn't stand for me to see him in the state he was in.

I crawled into the narrow hospital bed, careful not to shake him. I knew I wasn't supposed to get in bed with him, but I couldn't stand to see him suffer all by himself. Slowly, I cuddled into his side as best I could without hurting him further, my arms curved around him. His body felt so fragile as he shook.

"Shhh," I whispered, and pressed my lips against his temple. "You're not ruined, Honey."

He wept softly, body twitching with each tear. "It hurts so much," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can take it."

"You're the strongest man I know," I whispered back, my voice soft like a silk pillow for him to rest his head upon. "I'm right here, just breathe. The worst of it is over now."

He clung to me then, his uninjured hand gripping mine with surprising strength. "Don't leave me," he whispered, desperation slicing into his voice and going straight to my heart.

"Never," I promised him, clutching him closer to me so I could here his heart. "I'm never going to leave you, James. Never."

We lay there in the dark, his quiet weeps and the beeping of monitors the only sounds.

Finally, his cries began to wane, and then he started to breathe at regular intervals, a sound that brought great relief, for it meant he was falling asleep, exhausted. I held him, my own tears falling silently.

"I love you, Jamie." I whispered, feeling as his head tiredly rested on me. I knew in my heart, I knew he would be okay.

[milliesfishes]

you have a nightmare and coriolanus comforts you

fem reader x coriolanus snow

It was so rare that you ever dreamed.

If you did, it was usually some silly thing that faded away as you opened your eyes, your consciousness erasing your subconscious as the day got started.

Nightmares were even more few and far between, but when you got them, they were bad. Horrible images your brain conjured up just for you that left you shaking and sweating. When you had one it always made you fear sleep for a while, but you always got over it.

When you and Coriolanus had gotten married you hadn't told him about your once in a blue moon bad dream. They happened so uncommonly that you didn't see a need. It was hardly a concern in your mind, especially when none occurred in the first six months.

You were so happy with him you figured that was why. Maybe love erased bad sleep?

Unfortunately speaking too soon seemed to be your new constant. That was all you could think of when you sat up from bed like the sheets were on fire, chest heaving, hand on your heart.

Your husband was a light sleeper, and you felt him stirring beside you as you woke, trying to recover. Since you were so distressed you hardly paid him any mind, taking deep breaths in and out, trying to stick to your (admittedly not very helpful) ritual.

A warm hand found your back, and you tensed briefly before relaxing against his touch.

Coriolanus rested his chin on your shoulder, holding you from behind around your waist. He kissed your neck gently. "You okay?"

Closing your eyes and still trying to calm down, you nodded. "Go back to sleep." He had an early day tomorrow and you didn't want to be the cause of his exhaustion.

"Try again, sweetheart," he mumbled, and you looked back at him. His eyes were tired, his hair messy. You loved him like this, with his curls mussed on his forehead and his touch soft and sweet. His chest was bare, and you smiled just a little at the feel of it.

"I had a nightmare," you said softly.

"Oh, darling," he muttered, pulling you closer to him. He rolled you onto your tummy, so your head was on his shoulder. Coriolanus kissed your temple with the gentlest of touches, his nose nudging into your forehead. "I'm sorry. Do you need anything?"

He'd tear down the moon if you asked. But you just shook your head. "Just hold me?"

"Of course," his hand dipped under your little sleep top, stroking the skin there comfortingly. Coriolanus' other hand reached for yours and dragged it up to rest in his hair, knowing you liked playing with the curls.

Your anxiety was eased as you ran your hand through his hair, and he smiled when he felt you relax. "There you go sweetheart."

"I don't wanna sleep," you nuzzled your head against his chest.

Coriolanus wanted to protest; you could feel it. He was always worried about you getting enough sleep, pestering you about getting to bed on time. But tonight, he could see you were scared, and you didn't need a lecture on rest. So he just smoothed a big hand over your hair. "That's okay. Just lay with me. I want you to relax."

You nodded, snuggling up to his warmth. He kissed your forehead twice. You felt a surge of gratitude for him, for everything he wanted to give you. Coriolanus could not take the bad dreams away, but he could comfort you, and he'd do everything he could to keep you comfortable.

When you finally felt yourself giving up and drifting off, the last thing you felt was him tucking your head under his chin, cocooning his body around you, as if when your nightmares would come, they'd beat at his back but not get through him to you.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Spicy for S/O helping Toby with his first time while hes super nervous? Ughh I'm super sorry if this to too vague or weird

Not weird at all! I actually thought it was a pretty cute ask :) **I will say, it is implied that this is not the reader's first time and that they have at least a bit of experience.

Toby would definitely be super nervous having his first time, even if it's with someone he loves and trusts as much as he does you. Toby has a very tough time opening himself up and becoming vulnerable with people, and that is no different in this situation. You're going to have to go slow and gently, which, of course, you’re more than willing to do for him. The evening would start with you guys having a nice relaxing and quiet dinner together and gradually working up his trust and safety for the evening. You’d take him back up to his room, and I think Toby would want the lights to be fully on so he feels more relaxed and less vulnerable in a darker setting. You’d sit beside him in bed, gently pull him close to you, and begin with some making out. Toby’s used to that, it’s comforting, and it allows him to slip into the headspace for having sex with you for the first time.

Gradually Toby grows more comfortable, and it allows him to let you escalate things further. I think it’s easier for him if you remove your own clothing first, because then he doesn’t feel so alone in removing his own. He’s stuttering more than usual, and twitching more than usual, but he’s not nervous in a bad way now, he’s nervous in an excited way. He’s looked forward to this moment for a long time, daydreamed about it, and wondered what it would be like to give you his first time, and now that it’s really happening he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When it comes to foreplay, I think he’d want it to be mutual, he’d want to touch you while you touch him, so you can learn about each other at the same time. He’ll lay down beside you so the two of you can cuddle up to each other, legs spread so the two of you have access to each other and you can explore together.

He asks you a bunch of questions while he touches you, trying to figure out how you like it most, and it makes him feel so happy to be able to make you feel good, and you can feel free to ask him questions while you touch him as well. Soon, Toby finds himself turning into a mess, curling into your neck and moaning as you get a good grasp on what makes him feel good, whines slipping out of him as he tries to focus on touching you too. He tries to apologize every time he feels his ticks are getting in the way of things, but you shush him gently and press gentle kisses to his forehead, soothing him and telling him it’s okay, and that makes him curl into you with a whine even more. When it finally comes time to have sex, Toby can’t help but tremble, breaths coming out of him rapidly at the thought of finally being able to be inside of you. I think he’d want to keep cuddling for the first time, as he feels so much more secure when he’s able to be held by you and hold you like this and curl up into you.

As you wrap a leg around his hip to give him room, he can’t help but look into your eyes in a pleading manner, wanting to make sure that you actually want this, you actually want to take his first time, and that you’re really enjoying this. Of course, you can’t help but chuckle lightly at him, but when you hold his cheeks gently and press a few kisses to his cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips, reassuring him that you want this just as much as he does, Toby can’t help but shiver as he presses his lips to yours to ground himself. With one of his hands holding yours tightly, he uses his other to help himself enter you, and the moan that slips out of him as he does so is nothing short of a yell. He bottoms out inside of you and moves his arms to hold onto you tightly, burying his face into your neck once more as he tries to control his breathing. As much as he wanted to etch his first time with you into his memory, everything becomes a blur once he’s thrusting into you.

He’s just a puddle beside you, moaning and crying out, whimpering as he fucks you as if it’s his life’s purpose, at one point he begins repeating ‘thank you’ to you as he clings to you so desperately. He makes sure that you finish before he does, and once you’ve done so he can’t hold on anymore, quickly rutting his hips into you a few more times before he slams into you once more, cumming inside you with a desperate scream as he clings to you. It takes him a little while to calm down, but the way you gently stroke his back and run your fingers through his hair certainly helps. He slouches against you, sighing as he feels himself getting tired. You ask him how it was, and he tells you it was incredible, pressing kisses to your chest, neck, cheeks, and then your lips with a big smile on his face, a few giggles slipping out of him. He relaxes into you for a few minutes, cuddling you as tonight’s events play through his mind, joy overtaking him. Before you can move away from him to clean up though, he clutches onto you once more, a blush on his face and that adorable, boyish grin spread across his face, barely able to control himself before he excitedly asks you, “Can we do that again?”, and who are you to say no to a face as cute as that?