#I'm very sorry if this makes absolutely no sense I am.. VERY high

[silusvesuius]

i legit love when a character's gender is so integral to their personality (and perception obviously.) like so concrete that if genderbent their whole shtick would just be absolute dookie. anyways i'm just writing this text so i can talk in the tags (My beautiful safe haven)

this 14 minute song is soooooooooooo FYRE

[palskippah]

Hi! Nimona told him to do a thumbs up (also I hope you get the reference image because I couldn't find it ajkdsad)

There's some mpreg headcanons and drawings under the cut! :D

By the way the limit of images is 30 so I had to make some longer images with comics to save space and put more drawings 😭

-Also, small continuation from the previous drawing:

(I wrote baby album but maybe it should be those albums that people keep of the pregnancy process ajskd)

-When Ballister first started showing, he was a bit insecure about it, but Ambrosius helped with that, in the romantic sense of worshipping and whatever, but also like this:

Translation (did my best to see how to translate it sorry sdjksd it works better in spanish)

1 Ballister: I think it's too soon to be getting fat- Ambrosius: You know what else is getting fat? 2 Ambrosius: Who said that

-Ballister goes through the denial of needing new clothes, so imagine him still wearing the stuff he usually wears and Nimona coming from behind and picking at the clothes by his shoulder and going in a high-pitched voice, as if the shirt was talking - I'm tired, boss while Ballister swats her away and say, leave me alone, it still fits me >:(

(it doesn't)

>Also Ballister absolutely refusing to wear maternity clothes, the only one he got he was like, wearing it and looking very unimpressed, and Ambrosius' like, you don't like it? :( and Ballister says, No. It's ugly as fuck >:(

>So, he just gets bigger shirts and stretch-ier pants and that's it. Also he gets an oversized hoodie and he says that's gonna be his best friend the rest of the pregnancy, and both Nimona and Ambrosius gasp offendedly at that.

So-

Ambrosius (turning to look at Nimona): What the- hey, I am his best friend. Nimona: Course not! You lost that privilege with what happened that one time (she means the movie events, more than five years ago) Ballister: Ambrosius' my best friend, Nimona. Ambrosius: HAH >:D Nimona: Aw :( Ballister: Because you're my sidekick :) Nimona: :D Ambrosius: Hey, what now- that sounds better than best friend :(

-Ballister during most of the pregnancy is like, woo baby :) but at the very last months he's at least half of the time pissed off, tired and done with being pregnant.

(my incredible math skills in the next point)

>70% of that time he's mad at Ambrosius (who made him pregnant), 20% mad at Nimona (who consciously (and sometimes unconsciously) gets on his nerves) and the remaining 10 he's pissed off at Baby (and he gets sad about that one, because he's just a baby, so he redirects it at Ambrosius instead 😔)

>Ambrosius does his best to be of help but usually there's nothing he can do aside from being there (and sometimes getting out of Ballister's sight, if he's really angry- in the sense of 'I don't even want to see you now')

>Most of the time Ballister just cools off.

-Also Ambrosius giving him massages, sometimes randomly on his shoulders or his feet, and sometimes something more elaborated, like Ballister laying down and him using body oil, setting the ambient and all to massage his back (and Ballister almost always falls asleep in those).

>Sometimes tho he just does a 'chop chop chop' at his shoulders (it doesn't do anything besides amusing Ballister and keeping him company)

>Also Nimona said that of course he'd just randomly start chopping Ballister while Ballister does nothing about it, so Ambrosius starts chopping her instead

(made these two drawings with like three weeks of difference ajdkad)

(N/SFW thingies on the next four points and the next four images)

-Also with that previous point imagine Ballister waking up all angry, and Ambrosius just not knowing what he can do for him to stop being mad, but it turns out that Ballister had just woken up horny and pent-up.

>And once he realizes, he's like Ambrosius... (with intentions of getting some), and Ambrosius is like 🧍? because a second ago Ballister wasn't even looking at him.

-Also with this, Ballister is just very much hornier now (after the first trimester which was the worst) and Ambrosius doesn't mind at all - except when his jaw gets sore or he's running late for work because they lost track of time and also other situations ajsdks but usually he's delighted.

>(In the drawing Ballister just crossed one leg over the other once he heard Ambrosius coming in, because he can't maintain the position too long without getting uncomfortable sdjksj)

-Whenever Ballister is like >:c and looking in Ambrosius' direction, he immediately assumes that his husband is angry at him.

>Y'know when you look intensely at someone so they feel your gaze and look at you back? Ballister here is trying to apply that, but it doesn't work bc of the previous point askdad

-I had written sometime (I think) about them blaming Baby on literally anything that has more or less to do with him. If Ballister's crying, if he forgets stuff, if Nimona coddles Ballister too much and pisses him off, if Ambrosius wastes all the cleaning product in two weeks because he had been cleaning too much (he's nesting and realizes that sometime later), if Nimona and Ballister eat the weirdest stuff that at least he wouldn't eat in normal circumstances- and a long etc.

-During Ballister's pregnancy, Nimona works the most she had ever worked in her existence (in the biscuit factory):

-Both Nimona and Ambrosius are the most supportive c: yippie. Supportive husband/best friend and supportive sidekick/friend/sibling/etc

>An example would be of Ballister being tired, and if the time allows, the other two will immediately suggest a nap.

>Their collective naps usually last hours and they wake up disoriented, sweaty, with drool and the sheets marked on their faces.

>Also they wake up almost always stacked, Nimona always under the other two.

Translation

Nimona and Ballister: (snoring) Ambrosius: Fuck- what year is it? (tries to lift himself up)

-Also Nimona is the self-assigned pregnancy pillow, and at first Ballister had refused to let her do that, but as a sidekick she took it upon herself to make sure that her boss was comfy and could sleep well - and Ballister reminded her that that's not what sidekicks are for. She said, fuck off I'll do it anyways >:c

>Anyways he sleeps great with her help and earns himself a huge told you so from Nimona.

>I had written a thingy where just when she woke up she was like good morning boss :D while Ballister also said good morning and she hugged him while pushing Ambrosius away, even out of bed. I can't remember where I left it but once I find it, I'll see if it's good for posting pipipi Also Ballister and Ambrosius are corny husbands

>Also here I drew my vague idea of a bear bc I was too lazy to look for Nimona bear references sowwy

-Nimona sometimes shapeshifts into Ballister to make fun of him.

(This one joke gets lost in translation which is a shame but I'm gonna share the comic anyways sdjs)

>(She's messing around about names, doing a play in words using Gloreth's name while Ballister is already warning her to stop)

>Nimona urges them to get a name soon because Baby is almost born, and they're like yeah chill we're on it - and they're both sitting on the sofa, with Ballister's legs over Ambrosius' lap, while Ballister goes through their list on his tablet and Ambrosius focuses on giving him a massage on his feet.

They're like-

Ballister: So, Cyril? Ambrosius: No, my horse at the Institute was called that. Ballister: Right, then not that one... What about Casper? Ambrosius: Hmm... no. Ballister: Why not? Ambrosius: I don't know, I just don't really like it. Do you? Ballister: Eh, it's alright, I guess. I don't think Baby looks like a Casper, though Nimona: You don't even know how he looks yet! Ballister: You shut up, kid >:v Ballister: So, what about…

And they're making nearly to none progress but yeah sjdsd

>Also imagine Nimona (as Ballister) imitating what he does now that he's pregnant but x10 times more.

Translations

1 AUGHH- MY BACK 2 FUCKING AMBROSIUS! 3 Ambrosito? Can you get me a sweet treat? 🥺 4 I'M HUGE WAAA

>And while Ballister is like wtf I don't act like that, he turns to Ambrosius like, do I act like that? 😥 And Ambrosius, who was laughing to himself, goes, well... not so intensely, which is good enough for Ballister.

>But Nimona points out to what Ballister is eating with a mocking smile (and it is weird to be mocked by a version of himself that has a pink strand on his hair, but whatever), and he's like ? what? and realizes that he did ask for a sweet treat almost like Nimona depicted he does, because he did pull the big sparkly eyes and he did call Ambrosius Ambrosito while at it.

>Then he's wondering if he really complains about his back like that (he does, but as Ambrosius said, he isn't so intense about it, usually just holding his lower back and throwing his head back as he winces. Normal)

>(the yelling insults at Ambrosius is definitely not true. But he does throw daggers at him with his eyes when he's angry, he has to admit to himself)

>Now, about crying because he feels huge- yes. Very much true, but he doesn't wail. Just sobs and cries a river like the sensible, serious adult he is.

-Also that thing of knights don't cry and whatever. This one knight does cry, and he cries a lot (at least while he's pregnant).

>He cried once because he dreamt that Nimona was a little spider and even though he warned Ambrosius to be careful, he accidentally crushed her and he woke up not only incredibly sad but also upset with Ambrosius, even though he was aware that it was silly to get mad with him over a dream.

>Nimona was like boss :( while hugging him, and Ambrosius had to scoot a bit away because Ballister didn't even want to look at him as he wept. Ambrosius said a lot of reassuring words of I'm sorry, I think I didn't see her :( while Ballister was like, but I warned you so many times :'[

>Then he was like, I promise you, I'd never hurt Nimona. And Nimona herself said, yeah boss, I'd crush him first, don't you worry about it :) and Ballister said, but I couldn't protect you :''[ while hugging her harder.

>And both Nimona and Ambrosius are (internally) like, ohh, so that's what it's about.

>Anyways, just a bunch of hugging and comforting gets him to feel a little less sad and also Nimona saying, but you're great at protecting me now :D so, there's all that sdjksd

-Sometimes Ballister just breaks down over seemingly the most trivial stuff too (which is usually just the last straw over a bunch of other stuff going on)

Translation

1 Ambrosius: Balli? What happened? D: Ballister (with one eyeline going up and the other going down): Ambrosito, my eyeline's crooked* *the straw that broke the camel's back (his hair isn't cooperating) (his back hurts) (done) (clothes feel uncomfortable) (the baby won't stay still) 2 Ambrosius (doing Ballister's eyeline): Stay very still, love (focused) 3 (they're in front of the mirror) Ballister (laughing his ass off): BUT HOW DID YOU MAKE IT EVEN MORE CROOKED?! Ambrosius (embarrassed): Aw Ballister (holding his belly): Ow, Baby, don't kick me, sorry, sorry! I'll stay still now-

>(Y'know when a pregnant person laughs the baby inside gets all shaken skdsd I find it funny, so imagine Baby being like ??!! because Ballister keeps laughing too hard and shaking him all around and his kicks are like him going, stay the fuck still D:<) (Ballister's still weepy but now he's crying with laughter, which is better than him crying from being overwhelmed)

-Also Ballister's very scared of giving birth but he's very good at pretending that Baby will simply materialize in his arms rather than him having to push him out.

(Drawings based over this)

Translation

1 Ballister happy because his baby is almost born 2 (Remembers that he has to give birth to him)

-The day that he was in labor and all, imagine the water just breaking and stuff and Nimona being like 'okay everyone DON'T PANIC' while panicking and also Ballister's panicking too (Ambrosius' at work and when he's told he also panics and arrives at the hospital in record time still wearing his armor. The power of first-time father panic)

(But someone gotta be not panicking in the situation, so Ambrosius calms the fuck down and becomes the calming presence that Ballister can rely on c: also Nimona calms down too and goes back to being herself and is very good at distracting Ballister while he goes through contractions and the hours before pushing.)

>Also y'know how in TV sometimes someone else imitates the pregnant person's breathing exercises by going huff huff huff quickly ajsdkjd

>Also Ballister going Nimona what about the bags and also don't carry me there?! and her going shit right and ignoring the second half, then returning for the bags and grabbing them, all while holding Ballister like a doll (a doll with a little doll inside SJDS pregnant barbie)

En español pensaba que fuera = AYÚDENLO, SE LE SALE LA WAWA - NIMONA DEJA DE HACER SHOW

-Wrote a lil something about Baby's birth and Ballister going through kinda a rollercoaster of emotions because at the very beginning of the pushing stage he almost had a panic attack, but then everyone in the room helped him calm down, and when he thought everything was going great, the doctor offered Ambrosius to receive their baby, and of course his husband was very excited about it and said yes, getting dressed up in the medical gown, the facemask, the gloves and all that.

(Initially everything after that was supposed to go swiftly, but I thought, no, what if Ambrosius faints like some dads do? and after watching a TikTok of a woman whose partner did faint and they had to pause her birth to hold him up because he was like over 6 feet tall, I was like hell yeah that's it)

>When Ambrosius finally got between Ballister's legs to look, his blood pressure went the fuck down. And since he's pretty tall and the nurse that tried to catch him was pretty short, the other one had to join in and then the doctor too to avoid him slamming on the ground. The thing was that Ambrosius was clearly fighting very hard against unconsciousness, giving the three people holding him false hope about him finally holding his own weight, making them almost drop him multiple times.

>Sensibly, the situation was kinda scary, because the three people assisting his baby's birth were busy trying to hold his husband from fainting. Said husband was clearly fighting with everything he got to keep himself conscious, and Ballister could very much feel his baby crowning.

>But seeing three short people trying to hold Ambrosius up and yelping when they almost dropped him several times, and remembering that Ambrosius had been so excited about it but hadn't been able to even stand the view, and feeling pretty nervous because his main emotional support couldn't even keep himself awake-, made him crack up.

>So, he's laughing out loud and going every once in a while, owfuck- because it still hurts like a bitch, while the other three keep going, YOU'LL DROP HIM. BE CAREFUL, SIR?? SIR, CAN YOU HEAR ME? and Ambrosius' like, yea- (faints again)

>(they're well aware that they gotta deliver the baby, so they're doing their best to hurry Ambrosius to get out of the way)

>The whole thing had made Ballister's body feel weak from the laughter, and he had to try and calm down to have strength again and push the baby out.

>As you'd guess, Ambrosius didn't receive their baby, and had to sit down and eat something sweet to not faint again, but he managed to stay on his feet well enough to cut the umbilical cord yippie.

>So anyways, Baby out, wrapped and all that, Ballister kept laughing more quietly about it and saying that they should mark the date in the calendar to celebrate Ambrosius fainting over almost delivering their baby. And Ambrosius' like hmm, I don't know Balli, maybe we could use this date for our son's birthday, don't you think? and Ballister's like OH RIGHT and now started laughing at himself.

I keep thinking of new stuff that contradicts what I already have posted, sowwy

>Imagine Ambrosius practically begging Ballister to not tell Nimona, while the other says she'd love to know but also is aware that she'd never let Ambrosius live it down, so he agrees on not telling her. Both eventually tell both Nimona and Baby when the latter is older and inquired about his birth, and indeed, Nimona loved the anecdote, and never let Ambrosius live it down, since then.

-Ideas about Nimona infiltrating the room in the form of a nurse after Baby is born and blowing up her cover when she commented on the baby's nose being just like Gol- Mr. Goldenheart's. And also, his hair being black like Bo- Mr. Goldenheart's.

>At the beginning when they had been admiring their baby, Ambrosius had said, he got your hair D': pipipi (he cried the second Baby got placed in his arms, got a drawing of that but I don't like how it came out wah, Ambrosius' wearing a facemask and being all tear-eyed pipipi) and Ballister had said, he got your nose :D but Ambrosius had said no? that's just a baby's nose, how can you even tell. But after Nimona commented on it, Ballister's saying told you so, it's your nose, while Ambrosius' like, Mr. Goldenheart could be either of us (both smiling amusedly because Nimona's too silly and they clearly know it's her, but she's all idk who's Nimona?)

-Also, I don't know how to make that work with the idea that when she got kicked out to the hall for the pushing bit, she went to steal some flowers and balloons with 'it's a boy!' on them for Ballister. But anyways, I'll write that bit too.

-Also this is Goldenheart with their baby, and I drew it a while back but realized that I don't like it anymore, so I'll do a redrawing someday sdjksd

>Imagine that Ambrosius was in the hospital bed with Baby while Ballister was getting ready so they could leave to their home, and Nimona said pictures timeee and then took that pic, with Ballister pointing at Baby and being all :D Also, Ambrosius looked pretty good and all, and Ballister was all unshaven face, kinda messy hair, the hospital band with his name still wrapped on his wrist as he pointed at Baby, and yet there were some people online that were like ??! Ambrosius Goldenloin Goldenheart was pregnant??

>And the people that knew even if a little bit about the Goldenheart's life, and also because they still went out and whatever, were like ? no? didn't you see Ballister like, a week ago? (Where he was very obviously pregnant and Ambrosius clearly wasn't sdjkdj)

>Every once in a while, Nimona would remember about this and repost it again, even after Baby is much older.

And that's it! If you read till here, bless you ajsdkadj

I've got more stuff about mpreg, both written and drawn, so I hope to make another post like this sometime, they're very fun to make :D

[stxrslut]

BEG FOR IT 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

pairing; ceo!rafe x pa!reader

summary; getting in trouble with your boss is never good in any sense, but with the particular personality that rafe cameron has, you know you're in deep shit, no matter how completely accidental or unintentional your mistake was

content; abuse of power, boot humping, dacryphilia, humiliation

authors note; none

there are better situations to be in than yours, that’s for sure. walking towards the office of your boss, you wonder why you ever even decided that the business world would be a good place for you to step foot anywhere near, no matter how small or insignificant your role in it really is. 

making a decision that could put this whole corporation at risk without even running it by anyone was never your intention, never your intention at all. it was a mere accident, you thought it was something random and unimportant you were doing, until mr cameron called you.

on the phone his voice had reeked of suppressed rage, even though he was quiet and calm, and he didn't use too many aggressive words, you could tell, you could tell because his voice had inadvertently struck the fear of god in you. 

his office is on the very top floor, which allows for plenty of thinking time on the elevator ride up, forty five seconds to be exact. in that forty five seconds you decide that you are willing to do absolutely anything to keep your job. the elevator stops and you step out, making your way to his office.

“come in,” he says in a composed sentence, but the fear is still there when you hear it. you push the heavy door and step inside. his desk is alone in the middle of the room, a large cushioned chair seats him behind it. there are large windows that span from floor to ceiling across the whole back of the room. there are a couple of hallways at the sides that lead to other meeting rooms, and youre also aware of a small private living quarter, though, even as a personal assistant, youve never had the liberty of entering them.

mr cameron is sitting in his chair, supposedly signing paperwork. he doesn’t look up when you come in, “you know what you did,” he murmurs lowly, face not faltering from that hard icy expression youre so intimidated by.

you immediately resort to being pathetic. “I'm so sorry sir! i didn't know i swear, i didn't know what i was doing.” you step forward, speaking quickly and panicking obviously. “I will never do it again! from now on i will double check everything, i promise.” his eyes finally flick up to you and he raises an eyebrow before leaning back in his chair. 

“you have put this company at risk,” he begins calmly, “if I wasn't as high in my field as I am, this would be an unsolvable issue, we would be done.” he informs you. you feel like your heart might drop out of your ass. 

“well it is solvable right, so it's okay?” you say tentatively. you need this job, he knows you need this job, there's absolutely no disguising it to him that you’re desperate. “please dont fire me, I'll do anything.” 

he watches you, like he's studying your facial expression and trying to read your thoughts. “you'll do anything?” he raises an eyebrow in a questioning look. that one sentence you uttered has now opened a whole new world of possibilities to him.

you nod quickly, “yeah! I'll take overtime or– or I could run more of your errands… uhm.. i could start bringing you lunch every day, i can–” he cuts you off by silently raising a hand and shaking his head.

“those are all things that you are already expected to do.” he says, “to keep your job you would have to do something… outside of your contract.” his tone changes, and you suddenly realise that he wants you to do something twisted.

you can think of the type of thing. and god, it would be a terrible thing for you to do. it goes completely against any moral you’ve ever had, to do a sexual favour in order to keep your job. it's twisted, if it ever got out your career would be ruined everywhere. but your career is already ruined if you don't do it. you can't afford to lose your job.

“what… what do you need me to do?” you swallow thickly, the shame already swallowing you whole at the implication of the actions you may be about to perform. you become aware of the unlocked door, what if somebody walked in right now, you would be fucked.

“come here and kneel.” he speaks curtly, pushing his chair back so there's space in front of him. you’re practically shaking with trepidation as you ever so slowly kneel down in front of him. your skirt rides up as you do, leaving you almost uncovered, completely visible if he was just a little bit lower down.

you expect him to say something, give you a command, but he doesn't. what he does is unexpected. he puts his foot forward. that's it. he extends his leg and places his foot right in front of you. shiny black dress shoes that look practically new, not a single scuff on them.

you frown in pure confusion. you are completely taken aback. what is he even expecting you to do? he knows that you don't understand and so he leans forward to clarify, “sit on it, grind on it.” your face twists in unexplainable emotion. “and then beg me for your job.” 

you feel every moment of pride youve ever had slip away as you rise up and shuffle forward so that one leg is on either side of his foot. then a tear slips down your cheek as you slowly lower down to place your panty covered pussy onto his shoe.

it's a sudden sensation, the laces are rough against your sensitive area. you don't like it, but oh, the pressure does incite an involuntary sensation of pleasure there. you can't help it, it's only natural. mr cameron knows it too.

your movements are shaky as you start to push your hips up and down, subsequently grinding down on his shoe. you wobble a little, not knowing if you should grab his leg for support and so you play it safe and don't. 

“you’re not begging.” he tells you, his tone so unbothered that it makes you wonder how many times he may have had someone do this for him. you take a moment to bring yourself to look at him, but the moment you do the pathetic words begin to roll off your tongue like they're the only ones you know.

“p-please. let me keep my job.” you cry, “I have debts, I'll never- uh- I'll never be able to live without this pay.” your voice is all broken apart, every time there is a twinge of pleasure down there you have to let out an uncontrollable sound. “I'll never make this mistake again mr cameron.” 

oh it goes on for minutes. long, shameful, disgusting minutes. you don't stop talking, begging, grovelling. your words only become more incoherent though, as the pleasure grows, you have no choice but to hold him for support.

your movements become erratic and he watches you. a sick smirk is planted on his face as he watches. It brings him a sick sort of pleasure to see you so desperate. he takes pride in the way he's taken advantage of you, he doesn't care how horrid or immoral it is. 

it escalates more when that knot forms in your stomach. you can't keep begging, you are overtaken by pleasure. for a few seconds you nearly forget about the situation you’re in and then the pleasure comes to an end.

your head snaps up to him immediately. you decide it's safe to stand back up again and so you do. “sir..” you say tentatively, hoping, praying even that he will now at least consider letting you keep the job.

he is silent for a moment before he looks up, “i have an errand for you to run.” 

you nod immediately, happy at the insinuation that you still have some sort of duty, despite what you have just been made to do for it, “of course sir, what do you need.” 

“take my shoes to be polished.” 

[hoodedjelly]

my Jenny, Tuck, Brad, Shelden, and Vega older designs ^__^

i'm watching mlaatr, still not done, i think i got like 10 more eps (and if i'm being transparent i skipped around eps... i just wanted to see vega...). And i'm absolutely loving the show!!!! i love these characters a lot, didn't like Shelden at first i'm going to be honest, #1 Shelden hater for a bit there. but he chilled out in season two and i started to ship breldon with that too so now i just love him so much.

more about my personal headcanons:

Jenny: - I am under the belief that she is transgender. Jenny was made genderless, so her deciding to be a girl was strictly her choice and i believe that makes her trans. (She's also a lesbian) - she did grow a bit, im not gonna explain how idc really i just liked her being a taller lady :-) - she has A LOT of different cute outfits and hair styles, honestly too much to draw. she never transforms back into her base show outfit when crime fighting, she just fights in her cute summer dress she don't care. - her and vega are dating grrgrgrrrr - when vega is in rule she makes it so there is complete free access between earth and cluster prime for citizens in both places. - I say that cause i think when jenny is older she moves in with vega, technically living in cluster prime but visits earth like everyday. And brad/shelby/tucker/wakeman visit cluster prime - Jenny also hangs out with the nicktoons unite gang, but i deffo feel like its just that secondary friend group that you don't talk to with for months. when you talk again its the same goofiness as before - i think danny calls for her help when he needs it (also manny) Tuck: - he is still a little shit but we love him - adhd boy - questioning cis (he/him) - he got into robotics/stem and builds little silly things - with that, he gets help from Shelby - pretty much just a silly teen, he's on the internet a lot and has "cringe" interests - but idk he's having fun and being silly and finding himself (those interests is stuff like sonic and among us) Shelden(Shelby) - honestly kinda nervous about ppl thoughts on my Shelden, idk it makes so much sense in my brain - hits you with the transfem beam (she/they) Pansexual (she just wants anyone type of vibe) - I think when jenny is visiting vega often that leaves Shelby and Brad hanging out alone a lot. which they don't mind honestly, they are actually good friends! - but during that they just get closer and start catching feelings. Shelby eventually lets go of her feelings about jenny and realizes they were a real jerk and weirdo to her. brad helps them through that and eventually her realizing she's trans. blah blah they in love and kiss at some point. - Shelby is also a furry lmaooo her fursona is a cat.

Brad: - bisexual cis man (he/him) - Still his old brad self if i'm being honest. - totally forgot to say i think all 3 of them go off to college together (even though jenny doesn't have to i feel like she would prob want to just for the experience, but tell me if you think differently i'm still unsure) - i really don't know what else to say sorry brad! he's literally just as silly as ever man. he's just also gay - i will say here i feel it takes a lot longer for shelby and brad to start dating then jenny and vega. they got that slow burn kinda shit going on, since a lot of that is shelby being confused about her feelings. and jenny and vega just hit it off right away if im being honest, very high school sweethearts. - (also i think shelby makes brad make a fursona to match hers, so brad got a dog fursona)

Vega: - Lesbian cis (she/her) - That ending of her just ruling cluster prime was just so crazy to me cause like, aint she like 16? - i think she has a lot of stressed nights and fearing she's not doing the right thing for her people, and jenny tries to help as much she can - that is why jenny visits so much, she wants to help her. - very much got those nights were she accidently falls asleep at her desk, jenny finding her and giving her a blanket and a kiss goodnight - it's not like she's unhappy, she is actually very very passionate about her work and wants to NOT be like her mom - and yeah she deffo goes to robo therapy for the stuff with her mom. - i think it's a conflict where vega is scared her mom is gonna come back and jenny has to reassure her that if she does they'll get rid of her for good.

imma be honest a lot of my hcs are pretty half-baked and random things, im sure im going to think of more stuff in the future but that will be in different posts.

[endzithefangirl]

"I'm gong to put 'being a WAG' on my CV" part 2

Authors note: The part 2 of this to celebrate Maxie winning the Brazil GP! Sorry it took so long, your girl is a STEM student, life got busy. Also now you know the inspo for the TechCEO!Reader.....

Summary: You come with Max to the Brazil GP to see many things: a win, an engineer.... and to have a long chat about Alexa....

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader, famous reader, swearing, also slight jabs at Max's dad and a few others...

Word count: 2.9k

It was the first race you had come to watch in a while. You desperately wanted to attend the one in Austin, but you got stuck in New York for work. But here you are, in Brazil, being driven to the paddock at 6:30 am for a delayed qualifying session that was probably going to be in the rain. You were worried about many things: the fans, your looks, the fact that Max's dad was going to be there, and the possibility that Max's ex-girlfriend might also be there, although Max reassured you that they were on friendly enough terms where it wouldn't be a problem.

Also, Max winning. He hasn't won since, like, April. He's been doing better recently, but he still hasn't won. And Norris was getting closer and closer to that number one spot. It was an incredibly chaotic morning. In that pre-qualifying session, Max was doing everything to avoid a repeat of the weekend before. On top of that, he was trying to end a months-long winless streak.

Great.

"Well, at least I brushed my hair today..." you mumble, looking at yourself in the phone camera. You still didn't know how to dress like a WAG. You were wearing jeans, the Red Bull jacket Max got you a while ago, some boots for the rain, and your hair down and brushed, which for you is a big thing. You also put on concealer. Miracle.

You were incredibly sexy to Max, though. Unfortunately, you both knew his father and the fashion police on social media might disagree. He didn’t mind, though. He actually preferred you didn’t wear a high-fashion, tight dress. It would have just been a distraction, not to mention, he wouldn’t see you in anything but a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants in the flat anyway.

"Did you know," you say, trying to make conversation to distract from the anxiety, "that your engineer Michael and I went to college together?"

"Really?" he asks, genuinely surprised. If he was honest, he had no idea what the engineers were like outside of their job. The rain was coming down harder, hitting like stones against the windshield.

"Yeah. So, if he got into MIT, he must be good."

Max chuckles, nodding as he looks at the road in front of him for a bit. His engineer was good, but then again, Red Bull didn’t hire anyone but the best and the brightest from the top of the class. He needed people who could handle the race and perform well under pressure. Suddenly, Max turns to you.

"Remind me again, who graduated top of the class at MIT?"

"Allen Chen..." you say, confused.

He laughs loudly before turning back to the road, his eyes fixed ahead once more. He was impressed that you didn’t even have to think for a second before listing them. That was very much like you.

"God, you’re a nerd..." he mutters affectionately with a smile.

"Says you," you laugh. "It's really raining, huh?"

Seeing your reaction to his little joke made him feel all warm inside. Knowing your sense of humor, you had absolutely no idea what you were doing to him. It was also making Max forget about the race, but at this point, he knew it was a rain delay anyway. "Yeah. Feels like we're in a carwash."

"Well, as a big enjoyer of the laws of physics, the best advice I can give you is to go slow on the turns but speed up when going uphill... There is an uphill, right?"

Max actually paused and turned back to you with a grin. It’s funny how you can switch him from hot to cold so swiftly. He still wasn’t convinced you weren’t doing it on purpose. But he couldn’t help but be amused and also impressed. "There are two hill sections, yeah. You sure you never thought of becoming a race engineer instead of becoming a nerdy billionaire?"

"I was gonna be one, but I had to drop out of college, you know, to run the company."

"You had to?" he said with an amused smirk. Max was well aware of the fact that you could buy out the entire campus if you wanted to. But he’d be lying if he said your workaholic tendencies didn’t slightly concern him.

"I tried, but it was really hard. And also, I had to move to New York—"

"Babe, you can run your business in every country imaginable and you’re telling me attending one university was too much?" Max knew he was being a smartass about it. This was more than just the workaholic in you, though. You were also a very stubborn creature, to say the least.

"Okay, I just went to college to get the visa, there, I said it. You happy?"

He chuckles, the car coming to a halt as you arrive at the paddock. The rain is hitting the sides of the car loudly. Max turns to you with a playful smirk. "See, was that so hard? But I’m happy if you’re happy, babe."

You walk out, people with umbrellas waiting for you. There were people taking your pictures as you walk into the Red Bull garage. You introduce yourself to everyone new, and a few of the engineers want pictures with you.

"Hey, we went to MIT together," you say to Michael.

"You remember?" he says, shocked.

"Of course I do," you say before Max pulls you to walk back to the driver’s area.

Max had been watching you talk to the engineer and the others with a faint smile on his face. You had been able to charm all of them within 30 seconds. It wasn’t particularly surprising, but he was still amused. He didn’t think many people realized just how captivating you were.

When you’re done talking to Michael, Max takes you to the Red Bull garage.

"That was easy. How did you make friends with my mechanics so fast?" he asks with a small chuckle.

"You might be a legend to regular people, but I'm a legend to nerds."

"Do I want to know how that happened?" he asks, amused. He knew you had always been incredibly smart and talented, but he had no idea you actually had a bit of a nerd fandom attached to you.

"I’m running a billion-dollar tech company," you say, shrugging.

He looks at you for a moment, his eyes wide. He always somehow keeps forgetting that you’re a goddamn genius. Because whenever he looks at you, he can only think how goddamn beautiful you are.

And yet you say stuff like that as if it’s normal.

You kiss his cheek. "I'll leave you to go ride fast. I'm gonna see if Michael will let me sit with them during quali." Max smirks as you say it before you kiss his cheek. He’d always found your ability to go from incredibly sexy to super nerdy to be insanely attractive. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

"Sure thing, nerd. Have fun." Max jokes before giving you a kiss on the forehead.

You stayed with the engineers during quali, both because it was super interesting and also to avoid Max's dad in the front of the garage.

And then the rain fucked it all up.

All up.

Max was out of Q2.

He was 17th.

You all saw him and his dad raging in the front of the garage.

The whole quali was a mess, with so many crashes, slips, and generally poor driving in the heavy rain and fog.

As Max got out of the car, soaked and drenched from the rain, he slams the door shut in sheer anger. This whole quali was a shitshow from start to finish. So many poor decisions, so much poor driving. He wasn’t even the worst offender. And he was still only P17. In the garage, he could still hear his dad going on a rage, but he just couldn’t. Max was too annoyed and frustrated to listen.

"Well, that was shit," you say, turning around to Max from where you were sitting.

He didn’t even notice you were nearby until he heard your voice. He turned around to look at you, his hair and shirt completely soaked from rain and sweat. But he couldn’t help but smile at your comment.

“That’s putting it lightly…”

"They definitely fucked you all up with that delayed yellow flag," you say, taking off the headphones and walking over to him slowly. "Save my seat for the race, guys."

He’s about to open his mouth to answer when he finally notices the headphones around your neck and realizes you had actually been in the garage the whole time. Despite how bad the day had been so far, he’s still very impressed that you’re here in the garage and not in some skybox with champagne in your glass. As you come closer, Max can’t help but wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close, not caring how soaked he is.

You hug him back. "It's fine. At least you didn't crash like some of them. Take a breather and then you'll do great at the race later." You take a Snickers out of your pocket. "Calm down now. You're not yourself when you're hungry. Here, eat a Snickers."

He raises an eyebrow as he sees you take out a Snickers from your pocket. It wasn’t the most normal thing to have in a pocket, but somehow it wasn’t surprising at all. It was definitely very you. He also couldn’t help but think that you were probably the type of person to carry emergency snacks around in case anyone was hungry.

“How many of those do you have on you?”

"A few. They're for you if you want them. You know I'm a Mars person," you say, showing him the inner pocket of the Red Bull jacket he got you.

He smirked slightly. The fact that you were so casually admitting to carrying around a little bag of Snickers for him was hilarious. But knowing how much you care and how much you want to make sure he’s doing okay, it wasn’t actually that surprising at the same time.

“Of course you are… Can I have another one?”

He unwraps the second one and pops it into his mouth, chewing on it slowly as he looks at you. Max takes a seat in the chair behind him, his legs spread wide as he leans back, exhausted.

“…come here…” he says, pulling you to sit on his lap. You blink as you realize what he wanted.

He looks at you with a pleading look in his eyes. He usually wouldn’t ask for something like this because he knows you weren’t the type for public displays of affection in the slightest. But for some reason, he was feeling particularly needy, and he knew you would most likely not refuse if he looked at you this way.

He’s surprised at how easy it was to convince you, but it probably has to do with how terrible this weekend has been and how miserable he looks. Or maybe you’re just extra nice today. Who knows…

As you sit on his lap, the other engineers laugh.

"That's right. I know how to code and I get laid," you say, making them all laugh. "You should go have lunch and then be ready for the race."

He hums in agreement. He knew you were right, but he was still very reluctant to let go of you now that he’d finally gotten you to sit with him. He’s well aware that the others are probably still watching you.

“One kiss, please?”

You roll your eyes and give him a quick kiss. You ruffle his helmet hair as you stand up. "Go."

“See you after the race?”

You nod and wink. Max’s heart skips a beat as you wink at him, and he gives you a small smirk in response. There was something insanely attractive about your confidence and how well you handled yourself in this environment.

Before the race, you came to the front of the garage to wish Max good luck. You saw him talking to his dad in Dutch. "Hey, just wanted to say good luck," you say from the door.

His dad noticed you first as you came in from behind Max. Both Max and his dad turn to look at you, Max’s features immediately softening as he sees you. He had to hold himself back from just immediately coming up and giving you a hug… his dad was standing literally next to him… He takes a deep breath, his voice still sounding a bit tense and nervous as he looks at you with a forced smile. “Thanks, babe… Thanks for coming…”

"I'll be with the engineers. Just be calm; it's gonna be a good race regardless."

Jos, Max's dad, nods at you politely. You smile at them both and then leave.

Max watches you leave, his smile turning much more genuine right after. He really did get lucky, being able to be with such an amazing person. Even his dad seemed to acknowledge it with a respectful nod in your direction.

Max looks at his dad, taking a breath as he can somehow feel a lecture coming.

".....Ik denk dat als je het uit moet maken met de dochter van een drievoudig wereldkampioen... Je hebt haar in ieder geval vervangen door iemand die heel rijk is...." his dad said.

Max looks at Jos, his face already turning into a frown as he starts his little speech. He already had his suspicions as to where this is going, but he knew he won’t be able to stop him anyway, so he just listens.

"...... Ze is een beetje raar. Maar... Niet de slechtste die je hebt uitgekozen..... Denk je dat zij mij kan helpen met het installeren van het volledige camera-AI-systeem op mijn nieuwe plek?"

The question takes him off guard a bit. He didn’t expect his dad to actually say something like that at all. He looks at him for a moment, his expression conflicted. On one hand, he didn’t like the idea that his dad wants to ask you something like this. On the other hand, he’s well aware that you would excel at something like that… “I wouldn’t be surprised…”

Max won the race. After a red flag and on-and-off rain, Max was the winner of the Brazil GP after a 10-race no-win streak. You run to the barrier with Christian, the Red Bull team principal, cheering with the team as Max comes into the garage. Max parks the car in the garage, exhausted by the long and hard race, but elated by the victory. He gets out of the car, helmet in hand, as he walks up to the rest of the Red Bull team, adrenaline still running through his veins. He looks around at everyone, giving them all some high-fives and handshakes as he walks through the garage. But he’s most excited to see you, standing by the side, cheering together with Christian.

Max immediately makes his way towards you and Christian. He gives the team principal a high-five, but his main focus is on you, of course. He looks at you with a tired but joyful smile as he finally comes up to you.

“Hey there…”

"Whoooo! That was one hell of a race!

He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly, not even caring that he got you all drenched with rain and sweat. “That it was…” He gives you a quick kiss before going to do the post-match interview and then into the cooldown room.

As he stood on the podium, you cheered loudly from the bottom.

"Hey there champ," you say, coming through the door of the trailer a bit later. "We were thinking of dinner? And by we I mean your dad and I.... He has an Alexa?" you say, confused.

Max looks up from his phone, his face brightening almost instantly as he saw you in the doorway. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the mention of his father. Though he supposed it wasn’t really a surprise, the two of them were supposed to go out to dinner together after all.

“An Alexa?” Max asks, a look of bewilderment on his face.

"He asked me if I could set him up an AI house helper, and I was like, 'an Alexa?'"

Max nods and shakes his head, amused, a little chuckle leaving his lips at the thought of his father coming up to you with those kinds of requests.

“You’re gonna have to be careful, he’ll be asking you to install a whole AI security system in his house next…”

"....he does know my corporation is a partial owner of Ring cameras, right?"

“Maybe we should keep that little fun fact secret from him for now…”

You hug him tightly, more intimately as he stands up. He hugs you back, his arms sneaking around your waist to hold you tight against his body.

“Could you do me a favor?”

"What do you need? An Alexa?"

[frogchiro]

okay wait why am i now just hearing about butcher/slasher ghost, and why am i foaming at the mouth!!!???! like ripping apart pillows, tearing down walls, doing flips—RAHHH i am officially OBSESSED!!

i read it and thought of texas chainsaw massacre, but it’s the 2006 one so like simon is an absolute menace but he sees a pretty lady who’s new to town and his cold killer heart just can’t help but swoon :((( and she’s so polite, nervous, and timid because it’s so different in this town and simon with his cursed blessed keen sense of smell

OH MY GOD BUT SLASHER GRAVES IN A SMALL TOWN DOWN IN TEXAS!!!?

so sorry if this is a lot!! 😣 i’m just a little obsessed 🤭🤭 either way, have an amazing day!! stay hydrated and make sure to eat 🩷🩷

HOW THE FUCK DID I NEVER THINK OF SLASHER GRAVES

My dear, I know that you probably expected Butcher!Ghost but I'm highjacking this ask now and writing slasher Graves because oh my god-

The setting I imagine to be in a small southern town in Texas, and I imagine it to be like one of those creepy, small southern gothic towns with the old abandoned churches, houses and old beaten up signs that say "His return is near" or "God is watching you", you get the idea.

And there we have Philip Graves who owns a big ranch passed down for generations in his family, and by big I mean HUGE. Enormous pastures, corn fields, cows, horses, pigs and all that which means he and his name is quite well know in the area which admittedly makes his...hobby a lot easier than you'd think. Graves has friends in high places and he's buddy buddy with the town's sheriff, basically the golden child of the town which means that both the police and the sheriff will turn a blind eye to the "sudden disappearances" of people, be it locals or newcomers to town.

But the thing is that Philip Graves is bored. Bored out of his mind and nothing seems to excite him anymore, not even the desperate hysterical screams of his victims do the thing anymore. Sure he definitely has the money, the looks that refined well with age, he's respected and liked in the community but the truth is-he doesn't give a shit about it.

I imagine that Slasher!Graves is an incredibly arrogant man, and while he may put on a pleasant facade, his accent a thick and purring drawl and his southern charm do the trick he's a whimsical and capricious prick who gets easily bored and when he does...Well let's just say that it doesn't end pretty.

So imagine how surprised he was when he was in town once in his pickup truck, cowboy hat low on his brow as he watched the cars go by when suddenly his eyes were caught by a bus, one of those that travel for very long distances and the only person who got out was you. To say that Philip's interest was piqued would be an understatement; what's a pretty soft little thing like you doing in this bumfuck nowhere in Texas?

A pretty young lady, seemingly around 20, who looked like a lost little lamb, but just what were you doing here? Everything about you screamed that you're obviously not from here and while he could see even from a distance that you tried to act confident, his sharp blue eyes saw right through that act-you were scared shitless and more than lost. Were you here to visit someone? Or maybe...you are running from something? Whatever the case was, you definitely caught his attention in more than one way.

You just looked...so soft, so pretty, lovely he'd even say and I'm sorry but this Graves that we're talking about would definitely be a little misogynistic :(( He's old fashioned, maybe it comes with his age or maybe due to how his pa raised him but the further he observed you the more he he couldn't help but think about how such a pretty young lady like yourself should be married off already to a nice gentleman, getting provided for like you deserve and in return takin' care of your husband too; bringing him beer, cookin' and popping out a kid or two :((

His train of thoughts got interrupted only by a loud booming voice calling out his name cheerfully and when he turned around annoyed to see who was interrupting him, it turned out to be old Michael, an old friend of his pa. He greeted him politely but when he turned around to watch you a little more it turned out that you already wandered off, sneaky girl.

Philip cursed under his breath but on the other hand he decided to just ask the sheriff about you since he knows that the man has access to all the information about any newcomers to town. It looks like his bored streak came to an end <3

[beomiracles]

hi serene!! happy 500 followers and hopes of many more!! <3

BARE W ME I CANT THINK OF ANYTHING OTHER THAN BRIDGERTON rn

i was thinking of a forbidden romance between rivaling royalty mc and kai, kai’s family wants him to marry a family with a high title to continue the long line of succession for two kingdoms but mc is the only exception due to them being their rivalry family. but during the the balls that are held by different families thats when kai and mc always manage to find their way into each others arms. and due to rumors going around they have to find a way to get the gossip off of them and their families. (fuck it add smut some how 😭)

I BELIEVE IN YOU MWAHHH :,)) 1K FOLLOWERS NEXT FRFR

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... ohmygod I absolutely LOVE Bridgerton (rest of s3 tomorrow, I'm dizzy). hehe this was sm fun to write and I loved the story setting, and of course I always find a way to sneak in smut :3

wc -> 1.7k

pairings hueningkai x afab!reader warnings themes of jealousy, unprotected sex (+pullout method), breast play, very minor hair pulling, no established relationships.

“One would assume that you were tailing me.” You murmur as Kai’s hand finds your waist, his other intertwining with yours. “I am merely partaking in tonight’s event”, he flashes you a smirk as he spins you around. When you turn back to face him, he continues, “besides, it is you, who seems to show up where I go.” 

The large ballroom suddenly seemed a lot smaller, more crowded, as couples spun around on the floor. You glance along the sea of people, despite the loud chattering combined with the soothing melody flowing from the piano, plenty of gazes seem to linger around you and your current dance partner. 

Scoffing, you turn your attention toward the man in front of you, “and I suppose I am to lounge at home whilst you are out buttering up the young ladies of the ton?” The remark was supposed to be sarcastic, but it came out as more of a complaint. Kai cocks an eyebrow at you as he lets go off your waist to take a step back, you do the same before giving a small twirl of your gown. 

When you reconnect he grins, “does the thought bother you?” You can sense the mockery in his voice and his words make you want to roll your eyes. “Hardly. In fact I do suppose I feel sorry for the young lady who you are to court.” Kai’s expression flickers with a small glare as he twirls your around once more, this time he pulls you back harshly. “The same ought to go for the man willing to court you, oh wait-” he pauses as a smirk crawls to his lips, “there has yet to be one.” 

Your lips part in objection before you realize that he is right. This would be your second season and you had yet to even acquire more than a glance from any respectable man. You supposed that a lot had to do with the fact that Kai had managed to scare half of them off by the beginning of your first season — and he seemed intent on keeping it that way. 

He notices the scowl on your face and his smirk widens further. “Watch your tongue, we wouldn’t want to cause a scene now?” His mockery only spurred you on further as you surged forward despite the move not being incorporated in your dance. “You..” you begin but trail off as you notice the increasing glances sent your way, no less by your very much diabolical families — who remained seated as far from each other as physically possible. 

Kai huffs out a short breath, tickling your face as he does. “Don’t get lazy on the remarks now”, he drawls as he pulls you flush against his chest, drawing a small yelp from you. “Don’t you think we’re a little too close?” You mumble as your eyes dart across the room, finding almost every couple looking your way as low murmurs filled the room. 

Paying them no mind, Kai shrugs. “No. Do you?” Your gaze flickers back toward his menacing expression and your jaw clenches. “I reckon we’ve been closer.” The chuckle that escapes his lips causes your heart to flutter as you fight to remain composed. 

As the dance comes to an end, you’re quick to tear yourself away from Kai as you rush toward the beverages, in desperate need of something to cool you down. In the midst of gulping down your second glass of champagne, a few ladies your age hesitantly approach. You recognize their lingering glances from the dance floor and you know where their interests lay. 

Before they get the chance to speak you interrupt them. “He’s a terrible dancer”, you say as you wipe your lips with the back of your hand. “Way too rough and he keeps walking on my toes”, you complain as you watch the young ladies' faces morph from curiosity to slight disgust.  

Kai wasn’t unattractive, nor was he of low income; in truth he was a desirable man and you knew that many ladies of the ton fawned over him. The thought alone made your stomach churn. But with the excuse of being long time family rivals came plenty of opportunities to fend said ladies off, whether it be lies of his bad breath or uncoordinated moves on the dancefloor, you usually managed to shoot down any opposing threats. 

You knew that Kai did the same, it was why you had yet to receive any callers. You just hoped that the small lies about each other would be enough to fend off any suspicions from high society. Your own families on the other hand, was a far greater issue and as the young ladies bowed to take their leave, your old maid clears her throat behind you. 

“What?” You mutter as you reach for a third glass. She doesn’t say anything as she gives you a knowing glare to which you roll your eyes. Your gaze wanders across the ballroom to find Kai with his arms wrapped around one of the many young ladies. She smiles as she leans into his touch, batting her eyelashes at him in a disgustingly desperate manner. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you set your glass down as you excuse yourself to the ladies room. Your maid begins to trail behind you to which you spin around on your heel, “I do not need a chaperon with me for the ladies room.” You huff as she eyes you with much distrust. Cocking an eyebrow at her, you stand your ground. “Unless you wish to hold my dress for me?” Your old maid purses her lips before inevitably giving up and retreating toward the rest of your family. 

The bathroom was down a secluded hallway and you took your time as you passed the many paintings adorning the walls, making sure to eye each and all carefully. Once you had shut the door to the bathroom behind you, you leaned against one of the cool walls as your eyes fluttered closed. 

It doesn’t take long before you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Your eyes remain shut as the bathroom door clicks open and it isn’t until it’s closed once more that they peer up at the intruder. “You should know better than to leave the door unlocked”, Kai muses as he locks it behind him. “Anyone could’ve walked in”, he adds as he eyes you with a small smirk. 

You quickly push yourself off the wall as you march up to him, slamming your lips against his. “I knew you would get here before anyone else”, you mutter as your fingers make quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt. Kai chuckles against your lips as he lets you take out your suppressed emotions on his garments. 

Breaking apart from the kiss, you push his shirt off his shoulders, the tip of your nails dragging across his bare chest. Your gaze flickers up to meet his, “who was she?” the words come out as a faint hiss and Kai’s amused expression only fueled your anger. Leaning in to press his lips against your neck, he hums against your skin. “No one you should worry about.” 

His words brought you little comfort but he didn’t give you any time to object as he pushed you up against the cold tiles, making sure to hike your dress up in the process. Your hands moved to your bosom as you untied the neat bows holding it together, letting the silk falter to expose your chest to him. Kai groans when your fingers in his hair guide his head to one of your nipples as he attaches his lips around the bud. Back arching off the ceramic walls, your hands grab fistfuls of his hair as Kai swirls his tongue across your breast before nipping gently at the soft skin. 

Moans of reassurance and praise leave your lips as your eyes flutter closed. Within short his lips are back on yours as one of his hands finds its way between your bodies to unzip his pants. As the tip of his cock presses against your folds you suddenly break apart from the kiss to look at him, your hands on either side of his face. 

“Was she someone special?” You ask, unable to let go of the young woman you had previously seen him with. Kai’s brows draw together as he stills, “are you actually intending on having this conversation right now?” he groans to which you bite your bottom lip. You could admit that the timing was a little off but you needed answers, and you weren’t sure when else you would be able to get them. 

Upon your silence Kai impatiently snaps his hips as he buries himself inside of you, drawing a breathy moan from your throat. His lips reattach to your neck as he pulls your skin between his teeth, keeping a steady pace of his hips as your hands move to his broad shoulders. “I don’t know who she was”, he grunts between thrusts. 

Your head falls back against the wall behind you as your lips remain parted, allowing the small noises of pleasure to escape them. “A family friend of sorts, I didn’t care to catch her name.” His pace increased as your nails dug into his back. “Yet she was clinging to you like a whore”, you practically seethe. 

“Fuck, I love when you’re like this.” Kai groans as his grip on your thighs tighten. Your fingers grab ahold of his hair as you pull his face up to your own. “Shut up.” You hiss as you slam your lips back onto his. You can feel him smirking against you as his thrusts grow sloppy. He catches the moans and whines that leave you as you come on his cock, pushing his tongue inside your mouth as he rocks his hips against you. 

You shudder as he pulls out, jerking himself with his hand before hot spurts of cum stain your gown. Everything is quiet for a moment as the two of you catch your breath. Upon looking down and noticing the mess of your garments you whine, “that one was new.” Kai flashes you an unapologetic smirk as he ties the bows to your bosom once more. 

“I’ll get you a new one.” 

“You’ll send it under a fake name right?” 

“Always do.”

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[dreamlandreader]

Hounds of Love | Part Two

Thank you so much for all the love on part one of Hounds of Love, I really didn’t except so many people to like it, and I am so so sorry it has taken me such a long time to get this out but I hope you all enjoy part two as much as part one.

I would love to do more x reader fics with SJM characters so if you have any particular characters of any gender you would like to see, or specific requests then please let me know. 💖

Content Warnings: Parental death, panic attacks, water, anxiety, fluff.

Part One | Masterlist

I'm still afraid to be there,

Among the hounds of love,

And feel your arms surround me

Eris Vanserra stared at his reflection in the gilded mirror before him and felt every bit as hollow on the inside as he looked on the outside.

Beneath the jewels and the finery was a male very aware of the part he had to play, of the smile he had to paste on his face and the lie he had to feed his people.

Beron Vanserra was dead. But the joy and relief that his brothers, mother and the people of the Autumn Court found so easily after the tyrants death, slipped from Eris’s grip every time he desperately tried to cling to it.

He was not sad his father had gone. Not by a long shot. He just felt … nothing. Nothing except the burgeoning responsibility he had to his court, and the absolute terror that he was not up to the job.

But he had no time for moping. His advisors were getting tetchy and Lucien had stalled the ceremony long enough.

In Autumn Court tradition Eris would be sworn in as High Lord in front of thousands of his citizens. Then a grand party will be thrown, where representatives from every Autumn Court city, town and village will meet their new leader.

Eris hated the vain display of pomp and ceremony, but on his long list of immediate changes to be instated in his court, the cancellation of a celebration that brought his people such happiness was not deemed a priority.

‘Eris, hurry up! Even the priestess is getting impaitent,’ Lucien hissed from behind the oak panelled door.

Smoothing his fine clothing, the soon to be High Lord of the Autumn Court forced his smile to reach his eyes and headed towards his future.

The ceremony was long and dull and you were so far back that you couldn’t make out a single feature on the new High Lord’s face, or hear a word from the priestess’s mouth.

It was an honour, your father had said, to be invited to represent your small boarder town at the appointment of the new ruler of your lands. You did not feel very honoured though. You felt claustrophobic, squashed amongst all the other citizens who were desperately pushing to see the new High Lord. Moreover your dress, though beautiful, was incredibly uncomfortable, with itchy fabric and a tightly pulled corset, never mind the pinching shoes that were slowing crushing your poor toes.

But your main issue was not with your outfit or the rude people around you breathing down your neck, it was a lingering sense of nervousness that you might run in to someone familiar. It did not help that the new High Lord shared a name with the male you were so anxious to run into. Eris. It was a fairly traditional name, and was common amongst the Autumn Court nobility, but it stirred something within you that you had tried, and failed, to ignore for seven years straight.

It certainly didn’t feel like only seven years since you last saw the stranger, not when he had consumed your dreams every night since. His unrelenting kindness that day allowed you to return to your sick father, pockets lined with more than enough to pay for his medicine, to buy better resources for the farm and to pay off Beron’s tithe.

Since that day you had built a better life, not only for yourself but for the small community you lived in. With the help of the treasures that the generous male had given you, you were able to focus on not only growing food for the village but also medicinal plants that the local healer so desperately needed, but couldn’t access due to trading restrictions Beron had so foolishly imposed on the boarders. Hallie, the beautiful hound who guided you home safely that night, had never left your side since. Whether you were working in the fields, selling to the apothecary, caring for your father or sleeping, the dutiful dog was at your feet, always alert but more than happy to receive your affections. It had splintered your heart leaving her behind whilst you journeyed back here, but you had entrusted her to watch over your father.

Despite all of your success, you couldn’t shake the aching feeling that something was missing. You knew it was foolish, dreaming of a male you met for all of ten minutes, but you couldn’t ignore the prang of pain every time you thought of the copper haired beauty.

As thoughts of the beautiful stranger came bubbling to the surface and the packed crowds shoved further forward in an attempt to see the new High Lord from a better angle, a devastatingly sharp pang of fear swam up your chest, clawing at your heart. Not now. You thought. Not here! This room was too hot. Your dress was far too tight. You could not breathe as the anxiety climbed up your throat. Could not move. Until you did.

Pushing and elbowing and fighting your way out of the crowd, you slipped through the hoards of onlookers and ran. You lost your shoes in a matter of seconds, and it wasn’t until the twigs poked holes in your feet that you noticed you’d ran directly into the woods.

Once you were out of the sight of ‘polite’ society, you tore at your dress, trying desperately to undo the corseting which stuffed you in so restrictively. Your hands trembled against the ribbon at your ribcage and you let out a small sound as you sank to your knees and cried.

Eris was on fire.

He had never really felt the heat. Even in the summer court, Eris was unbothered by the scorching temperatures. He had fire in his veins after all. But this searing pain in his chest consumed him.

He could not hear the words of the ancient priestess over the ringing reverberating around his skull, and it was all he could do, not to let his legs buckle from under him. He felt a pull. An urge to flee. The need to escape. But he could not. So he grit his teeth and bore the agony, praying that the seconds would tick by much faster.

When the priestess had finally wrapped up the ceremony and crowned him as High Lord, Eris bolted. He was supposed to stay put. To walk calmly to the ballroom, make a speech, meet representatives of all the lands in his court. But that could wait. Lucien would have to figure something out. Because Eris needed to leave. He needed to run, but towards what he did not know.

It took six minutes and twenty-two seconds until Eris's feet stopped running, and the taut pull in his chest slackened just slightly. He had reached a glimmering lake, and was momentarily dazzled by the reflection of the crisp autumn sun shining on the still waters.

It was the sound that first drew his attention to you. A whimper, and rapid breathing. The scrape of nails slashing at fabric. Eris looked to the bank of the lake and saw you knelt, a pool of silk encircling your frame. He couldn't see your face, but from the noises you made he knew you were crying. You were tugging helplessly at the tight laces which tied your corset, and the more you struggled the more panicked you seemed to become. He knew that feeling too well, but his own anxiety dissolved into the background as his focus shifted entirely onto you.

"Hey, let me help you," he said softly, moving cautiously towards your back, and kneeling gently behind you. You slowed in response to his soothing tone, but continued to tug at the ribbon in frustration.

"I need this damned thing off I can’t - I can’t breathe!" you panted, fear dripping from your shaking voice.

"Wait, wait just stop. Stay still. Let me help you,"

Eris steadied his hands, still shaking from his own agitation and began to undo the laces, first untangling the tight bow at the base of your spine and gradually working his way up pulling the satin ribbon free from the eyelets. You began to breathe easier with each inch of the corset that was released.

"There. It’s done. Are you-”

Eris didn’t get to finish his sentence before you whipped up, leaving your dress in a crumpled heap on the forest floor. Your cream chemise fluttered behind you, as you sprinted towards to lake and flung yourself in.

“What the fu-” Eris darted up and lunged into the water fully clothed in his regal attire.

The surface of the water stilled momentarily, before your head gracefully emerged and you lay flat, floating on your back, staring up at the rosy pink sky.

Eris much less delicately reached the surface, spluttering and floundering in the water. He swiftly removed his heavy overcoat and watched glumly as his favourite baldric sank, a trail of bubbles the only thing to suggest it had ever been there.

“What in the mother’s name were you thinking!?” Eris exclaimed, still catching his breath from his unexpected bath.

“I have panic attacks,” you said matter of factly, drawing your fingers through the frigid water in lazy circles.

“I can't breathe, and I feel like I'm on fire. When I'm home, if I can feel them coming I take a bath as cold as possible. It grounds me. I can reset and then breathe again,"

There was a stark silence as Eris took in your floating form. You looked ethereal with your hair splayed across the water, but he couldn't quite make out your features with the setting sun shining right in his eyes.

"I run," he said softly, feeling the need to tell you something about himself after he had intruded on such a raw moment.

"Hmmm?"

"When I have panic attacks, I run. I’m always so envious of how free my hounds look when they get to run without limits. When I'm anxious, all I want to do is join them, so I do,"

"Oh," you answered, your heart warming slightly at this strangers confession.

You started to rise in the water, and took in the beautiful male before you. As your eyes scanned up his well toned body you suddenly remembered your manners.

"Thank you for your hel-," You stopped abruptly as your eyes met his. This was no stranger. You should have known from the distinct timbre of his voice. From the kindness he so willingly showed to a complete stranger. After so long, he was here.

"Eris!"

"Y/N!"

Eris's eyes were just as wide as yours, round and swimming with feeling.

“What are you doing here?” Eris whispered, silver lining his chestnut eyes.

“I- the new High Lord,” You replied as you stared at the male before you, too afraid to blink in case he disappeared again, never to return.

“You saved my life. My father’s life. You gave me the chance to help other people. Why?”

“Because, it was the right thing to do,” Eris stated matter of factly as he took your hand into his. Your heart was pounding and as strange as it seemed, you were certain you could hear Eris’s heart thudding the same beat.

“You gave me your dog,” you stated, the shock truly beginning to set in.

“Yes, I did. Is she still-” he couldn’t finish that thought.

“She’s good. Brilliant. Beyond any companion I could have wished for,” you reassured him.

“She always was. I’m so glad you found one another,”

“I never stopped you know,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. Baring your soul.

“What?”

“Thinking about the male who stripped himself of his jewels and lost his best hound in order to stop a desperate stranger walking to certain death. I- I wished you’d come and find me. That I could thank you. Show you the life I was able to build because you saved it that night,”

“I thought about nothing else for seven years,” Eris confessed.

“Why didn’t you?” You asked, squeezing his hand in encouragement. Drawing the words from his lips with your heartbroken gaze.

“Because Beron wouldn’t have stopped until he found me. I was valuable to him. He would’ve snatched me back into a life of misery and destroyed everything in his path before he got to me. I did not want you embroiled in his world,”

“Why are were you of such value to him Eris? Who are you?”

“A male who has regretted letting you walk away every night since the last I saw you. A fool who let himself dream he would see your beautiful face again one day. A sentimental bastard who promised himself he would never let this opportunity slip away if it presented itself once again,”

“What do you-”

You are cut off sudddently as Eris’s lips found yours. Soft and plush. Your heart soared and tightened with delight as you reached around his body and pulled him in closer. You were both sopping wet from the chill of the lake water but his warmth radiated through your damp clothing and filled the empty sal of your heart that had only ever wished to be imbued with his presence.

You were slow to notice at first. A small tug, a gentle hand reaching out. Then a snap.

“Mates?” you asked hopefully, pulling your lips from his, searching his face desperately for an answer.

“Mates,” he replied confidently, a nervous smile gracing his beautiful face.

“You knew? All this time,”

“Like I said, I couldn’t bare to put you in danger. So I had to let you go,”

Before he knew it you had flung yourself into his arms, and planted your lips right back onto his. Spinning you around, Eris slowly walked you backwards until you felt the bump of tree bark behind you.

He placed two gentle kisses on your lips before brushing your dripping wet hair from your face, his touch feather light.

“I take it you are okay with this news then?” He laughed.

“Okay! Unbelievably okay. Deliriously okay!” You enthused.

Eris beamed down upon you with the glow of a million fireflies. He leaned in again, his hands tentatively roaming your hips when-

“Eris, what the fuck are you doing!” Lucien screamed across the clearing. He was frantic, hair mussed and eyes panicked.

“You cannot be absent from your own party, High Lord!” He bit out.

“Wait- you’re Eris … Vanserra!” You shrieked, peering out from behind Eris to take in his very stressed younger brother, before staring up at your mate, astounded.

“Oh yeah …” Eris said coyly, holding his hands up in surrender. “Suuupprriiiiissse,”

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist

General Tags: @paleidiot @lilah-asteria @babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe

X Reader Tags: @talesofadragon

Beautiful dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

[hawberries]

holy shit, could you share some of your ratios/artis because multiple top percents is nuts and I wanna see the stats

HAHA TY! Unfortunately you've activated my yap card, so I'm really sorry about how the rest of this post is going to go. I do want to admit that it actually isn't that impressive because there's ways to sort of "game" the Akasha leaderboard system, usually by sharing high CV pieces between your characters, overbuilding crit rate and ER or finding specific leaderboards that aren't as competitive, but it still is a fun sort of low-stakes, inconsequential PVP mode that I enjoy! This is my Akasha page. As you can see my Emilie and Kinich are not doing well.

One notable way I've "cheated" is the fact that my Chiori's ranking is on the Jade Cutter leaderboard, but that's not a real place, because my Chiori is on a Wolfs-Fang. I'm thinking of going for her sword next time she reruns, actually, so she may lose her ranking soon. The boards only look at your artifacts and then make their own assumptions, so board ranking is a VERY poor reflection of in-game performance. Another example is for any Childe mains who have him on Nymph's Dream: it's not actually that good of a set for him! The boards overestimate the uptime, but in actual gameplay, especially if you look at International speedruns, the uptime is bad and he often performs better with mixed sets. However, the difference is not likely to be felt in a practical scenario outside of speedruns and high-level play, so it's reasonable to keep him there for the valour, since he's still going to be good enough.

the reason my Mualani is so high even though I am not a Mualani main is because 1) she's so new that everyone is still working on her domain and using placeholder pieces and 2) I hit her with the yassify beam (gave her this absolutely stupid Hydro dmg goblet which is by far the best piece on my entire account). It just gets passed around between all my watery guys depending on whose personal damage I'm depending on the most at the time, but since Mualani is a hypercarry and Ayato and Yelan are more supportive, it makes the most sense to leave it on her. I expect her to drop a lot in the rankings once people have a chance to farm the Codex set more.

I'm very chuffed with my Navia's build because I recently crafted a new feather for her with the artifact transmuter. Feathers are not broadly recommended to craft, but Navia's feather was by far the most obvious weak link on my account – in the sense that not only was it so bad that it would be easy to get an upgrade (it had 4 low rolls of crit damage and NO other useful stats, not even lower-value ones like atk% or ER) but the rest Navia's pieces were good enough that I had no reason to still be actively farming her domain. Anyway, I got quite lucky with the crafted feather, though as you can see it's still easily the weakest of all her pieces. This is enough to tide me over until Nighttime Whispers is in the strongbox :D

I've worked really hard on my Xiao's build – I've strongboxed 364 Vermilion pieces to date – but Xiao, being an older character with dedicated mains, has a very competitive board, so I don't expect to ever get much higher than this. Isn't that feather disgusting, though? I farmed Marechaussee domain a lot but never got a build good enough to replace this one, especially considering I'm on Jade and therefore about to overcap on crit rate just by sneezing. He has 97% crit rate WITH A CDMG HAT, I want to point out! I am considering crafting a circlet for him as his current one is relatively weak, but that's a problem for future Phee to think about, since I'll want to rebalance his build anyway once I get Xianyun – he'll need less ER and less crit rate.

What level of nerd am I about combat stats in the video game Jenshin Intact? I do my own damage calculations to see which pieces are best! That's why Xiao is on an attack goblet instead of an Anemo DMG one 😔

Also… see how my Wanderer is top 2%? I still don't have an EM goblet on the Flower of Paradise Lost set. RNG is really so funny sometimes. Anyway, at the moment I've allotted myself 6 weeks of farming time to try and get Emilie at least a good 2pc 2pc, after which I'll probably go back to making my Kinich not suck!

[empty-movement]

May I ask what scanners / equipment / software you're using in the utena art book project? I'm an artist and half the reason I rarely do traditional art is because I'm never happy with the artwork after it's scanned in. But the level of detail even in the blacks of Utena's uniform were all captured so beautifully! And even the very light colors are showing up so well! I'd love to know how you manage!

You know what's really fun? This used to be something you put in your site information section, the software and tools used! Not something that's as normal anymore, but let's give it a go, sorry it's long because I don't know what's new information and what's not! Herein: VANNA'S 'THIS IS AS SPECIFIC AS MY BREAK IS LONG' GUIDE/AIMLESS UNEDITED RAMBLE ABOUT SCANNING IMAGES

Scanning: Modern scanners, by and large, are shit for this. The audience for scanning has narrowed to business and work from home applications that favor text OCR, speed, and efficiency over archiving and scanning of photos and other such visual media. It makes sense--there was a time when scanning your family photographs and such was a popular expected use of a scanner, but these days, the presumption is anything like that is already digital--what would you need the scanner to do that for? The scanner I used for this project is the same one I have been using for *checks notes* a decade now. I use an Epson Perfection V500. Because it is explicitly intended to be a photo scanner, it does threebthings that at this point, you will pay a niche user premium for in a scanner: extremely high DPI (dots per inch), extremely wide color range, and true lossless raws (BMP/TIFF.) I scan low quality print media at 600dpi, high quality print media at 1200 dpi, and this artbook I scanned at 2400 dpi. This is obscene and results in files that are entire GB in size, but for my purposes and my approach, the largest, clearest, rawest copy of whatever I'm scanning is my goal. I don't rely on the scanner to do any post-processing. (At these sizes, the post-processing capacity of the scanner is rendered moot, anyway.) I will replace this scanner when it breaks by buying another identical one if I can find it. I have dropped, disassembled to clean, and abused this thing for a decade and I can't believe it still tolerates my shit. The trade off? Only a couple of my computers will run the ancient capture software right. LMAO. I spent a good week investigating scanners because of the insane Newtype project on my backburner, and the quality available to me now in a scanner is so depleted without spending over a thousand on one, that I'd probably just spin up a computer with Windows 7 on it just to use this one. That's how much of a difference the decade has made in what scanners do and why. (Enshittification attacks! Yes, there are multiple consumer computer products that have actually declined in quality over the last decade.)

Post-processing: Photoshop. Sorry. I have been using Photoshop for literally decades now, it's the demon I know. While CSP is absolutely probably the better piece of software for most uses (art,) Photoshop is...well it's in the name. In all likelihood though, CSP can do all these things, and is a better product to give money to. I just don't know how. NOTENOTENOTE: Anywhere I discuss descreening and print moire I am specifically talking about how to clean up *printed media.* If you are scanning your own painting, this will not be a problem, but everything else about this advice will stand! The first thing you do with a 2400 dpi scan of Utena and Anthy hugging? Well, you open it in Photoshop, which you may or may not have paid for. Then you use a third party developer's plug-in to Descreen the image. I use Sattva. Now this may or may not be what you want in archiving!!! If fidelity to the original scan is the point, you may pass on this part--you are trying to preserve the print screen, moire, half-tones, and other ways print media tricks the eye. If you're me, this tool helps translate the raw scan of the printed dots on the page into the smooth color image you see in person. From there, the vast majority of your efforts will boil down to the following Photoshop tools: Levels/Curves, Color Balance, and Selective Color. Dust and Scratches, Median, Blur, and Remove Noise will also be close friends of the printed page to digital format archiver. Once you're happy with the broad strokes, you can start cropping and sizing it down to something reasonable. If you are dealing with lots of images with the same needs, like when I've scanned doujinshi pages, you can often streamline a lot of this using Photoshop Actions.

My blacks and whites are coming out so vivid this time because I do all color post-processing in Photoshop after the fact, after a descreen tool has been used to translate the dot matrix colors to solids they're intended to portray--in my experience trying to color correct for dark and light colors is a hot mess until that process is done, because Photoshop sees the full range of the dots on the image and the colors they comprise, instead of actually blending them into their intended shades. I don't correct the levels until I've descreened to some extent.

As you can see, the print pattern contains the information of the original painting, but if you try to correct the blacks and whites, you'll get a janky mess. *Then* you change the Levels:

If you've ever edited audio, then dealing with photo Levels and Curves will be familiar to you! A well cut and cleaned piece of audio will not cut off the highs and lows, but also will make sure it uses the full range available to it. Modern scanners are trying to do this all for you, so they blow out the colors and increase the brightness and contrast significantly, because solid blacks and solid whites are often the entire thing you're aiming for--document scanning, basically. This is like when audio is made so loud details at the high and low get cut off. Boo.

What I get instead is as much detail as possible, but also at a volume that needs correcting:

Cutting off the unused color ranges (in this case it's all dark), you get the best chance of capturing the original black and white range:

In some cases, I edit beyond this--for doujinshi scans, I aim for solid blacks and whites, because I need the file sizes to be normal and can't spend gigs of space on dust. For accuracy though, this is where I'd generally stop.

For scanning artwork, the major factor here that may be fucking up your game? Yep. The scanner. Modern scanners are like cheap microphones that blow out the audio, when what you want is the ancient microphone that captures your cat farting in the next room over. While you can compensate A LOT in Photoshop and bring out blacks and whites that scanners fuck up, at the end of the day, what's probably stopping you up is that you want to use your scanner for something scanners are no longer designed to do well. If you aren't crazy like me and likely to get a vintage scanner for this purpose, keep in mind that what you are looking for is specifically *a photo scanner.* These are the ones designed to capture the most range, and at the highest DPI. It will be a flatbed. Don't waste your time with anything else.

Hot tip: if you aren't scanning often, look into your local library or photo processing store. They will have access to modern scanners that specialize in the same priorities I've listed here, and many will scan to your specifications (high dpi, lossless.)

Ahem. I hope that helps, and or was interesting to someone!!!

[whousestypewriters]

she's mine - j.o.t.h x e.f

pairing: jacks x evangeline fox

requested: yes / no

warnings: perverted behaviour like the dude is a creep

a/n: ahhhhhh jacks and evangeline are so cute i love them so much also its like 12am im tired and delusional so im sorry if the ending isn't very good

taglist: @lxvebelle, @moonlightt444, @nqds

evangeline and parties usually mix very well.

so when lala invited to her this particular one she jumped at the opportunity to dress up and socialise with everybody, being the social butterfly she is.

jacks on the other hand? had to actually be dragged out of the hollow and bribed with one on one time with evangeline. even now he's still grumbling as he makes his way through the room brushing off - sorry ignoring - anyone who tries to talk to him.

he's looking for one person in particular, a certain pink haired girl, and yet he can't seem to find her. "ahh jacks its so good to see yo-" the random lord - whoever it was, it doesn't matter - tries to talk to him, but jacks pushes him away before he can say anything else.

a small glimpse of a pink head caught his attention and the twenty minutes he's been at this party have been absolutely terrible, so he is determined to find evangeline and get the hell out of here.

people are nauseating.

he avoids a few more ladies and lords in ugly outfits and makes his way around the corner to where he thought he saw evangeline but is only greeted by a drunken stranger waving his glass around in the air talking to no one.

"well wasn't she a pretty little doll," he slurs. "that lala sure knows how to throw a party!" he spins around spilling some of his drink. "but motherrrrr, i don't want to go to school," he pronounces now facing a statue.

jacks rolls his eyes and is about to turn back when he hears evangeline's voice. "uh, okay, can you let me go?"

his senses are on high alert and he all but shoves the drunk man still leering at the statue into the wall, "oh dahlia you're such a good kisser!"

he rounds another corner and is met with a sight that causes rage to bubble so far under his skin its almost unnatural.

~~

evangeline has had fun this evening.

when she and jacks first arrived she (somehow) slipped out of his grasp and floated around gossiping with lala and talking brightly with everyone.

she had just quickly moved away to go to the bathroom when he cornered her. his hand instantly moving to her waist making her feel uncomfortable.

"um hello?" she asks her voice going up an octave in discomfort.

"hey there pretty girl," the creep breathes, the alcohol on his breath evident. "you and i would make a pretty good team."

"uh, okay, can you let me go?" she asks trying to squirm out of the creeps hold but he just tightens his grip on her and pulls her closer, inhaling.

"get your hands off her." the voice comes from a few feet away and is filled with so much anger evangeline can practically feel it radiating off him.

"who do you think you are?" the creep asks, wrapping an arm around eva either not noticing the way she tenses, or the way jacks' eyes darken or he just doesn't care. "this is my girlfriend!" he drunkenly announces, "so just leave us be."

"you have about five seconds to get your hands off of my girl or i'll remove them from your body."

the man lately registers the threat and loosens his hold allowing time for eva to slam her elbow into his gut and rip out of his hold, into jacks' arms.

she buries her head into his chest and relishes the warmth and immediate comfort jacks' arms bring. "jacks," she breathes.

"this is my girl and you better never show your face near her ever again or i will end you and your pathetic little life before its even started," jacks' crisp voice rips into the hallway.

"please who do you think you are? i'm a lord. what are you some random who managed to sneak into this party?" he steps forward threateningly.

"i am the person who's going to remove your head from your body if you come any closer, think wisely about your next choice lord."

the creep seemingly finally understanding his threats backs away hands raised in innocence. "okay man, i was just kidding but whatever."

he spins around and tries to leave but not before another drunk man stumbles past mumbling about some dahlia, and knocks him to the floor.

evangeline squeezes jacks tighter hugging him, revelling in his warmth and the arms wrapped possessively around her as he watches the creepy lord tumble to the ground.

"thank you jacks," she smiles.

"we're heading home, little fox," jacks' says - more like demands - wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "so no more of these uncultured idiots think that you're up for taking. when clearly you're not. because, little fox... you're mine."

[simplydnp]

Why is everyone rooting for it takes two? Tbh its one of my least fav gaming videos. I havent even watched the whole thing bc i get bored… why do yall like it so much??

i am so sorry you feel this way bc it takes two is one of the Best dapg we have ever gotten--revival run or otherwise.

despite dnp's arguably most popular playthrough (undertale) being composed of long videos, dapg doesn't generally post Long videos. so it's sheer length of 52 minutes is a revelation.

combine that with gameplay that both of them get to partake in, and you already know you're in for an excellent ride. again, they don't generally play a lot of 2 player computer games, despite us knowing they spend a Lot of time gaming together, so already it feels special since they both get to play.

the game itself is very dnp-coded, which they even comment on. it's a creative exploration through an emotional and difficult time, and yet, it still has time for humour, teamwork, and enjoyment. this game is a Journey--that's the whole point. and dnp are Very good at navigating it, in the way they do things best: together. (and you can't tell me phil's multiple 'i am your husBaand' didn't rewire your brain)

the grandness of the it takes two video is in their synchronicity. we've got video evidence of them struggling to play co-op games together--they even think it's going to go poorly, as it takes two has a Reputation for being quite difficult, particularly the boss battles. there's a reason it's the marraige counselling game, in a sense. and yet they skated through it. constantly on the same page. it's symphonic.

alongside that it's just a pleasure to sit down and watch. the bants are on point, the vibes are focused but chill, and the length of the video plus the quick turnaround upload speed during gamingmas meant that there wasn't a lot of editing to distract or disrupt the vibe. it's a very raw and unfiltered dnp--it's cozy. there's something about it that's just calming for the soul.

i enjoy getting to feel the Flow of a story, especially alongside the people i'm watching play it. despite the varied environments and quick-paced sections, i never felt lost in regards to the narrative (unlike their Brothers video). but still, there was high-octane moments! space for bants! a little bit of a respite in all the chaos.

maybe i need to say it with my full chest but trust and communication are my kink and no dnp upload demonstrate this better than it takes two. as fond as i am of dan's outbursts and yelling, there is nothing like watching dnp on the same page just absolutely crushing a task. there's a time and a place for both, but i much prefer them both having a good time as opposed to constantly bickering over something (hence my preference for the it takes two gameplay compared to the bread & fred video, though i'm curious your take on that particular video as it's quite the contrast)

almost everyone Knows what we come to dapg for, and it's not usually the gaming. this video takes that and makes the gaming Part of it in the best way possible.

plus, i'm eagerly awaiting them clickbaiting us with another insane title like 'dan and phil get divorced' was. truly excellent no notes.

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Broken Heart Syndrome

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After Matt stood you up at dinner, you are tossed down a rabbit hole of agonizing thoughts. As so often, you turn to the bottle to take the edge off, though this time, you make the decision to confront at least one of the objects of your anger. To your drunken mind, at least, even the worst decisions make sense.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST, Heavy on the angst (18+), graphic descriptions of domestic violence (involving a belt, too), allusions to sexual assault, mentions of homicidal ideations, self-hatred, alcohol abuse (and everything that comes with it), argument between friends, Reader says some mean things, suicidal ideations/depression

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: I'm sorry you had to wait so long for another chapter, but it took me a very long time to finish editing. There are parts in this chapter that hit very close to home, and I can't just post it without saying a thing or two. If you or anyone you know struggles with domestic violence, there are organizations that can help (check domesticshelters.org, for example). The same goes for mental illnesses; don't be afraid to seek out help if you start noticing symptoms. Check with your doctor or healthcare provider. There is absolutely no shame in asking for help. You've made it this far, and I am so incredibly proud of you. It was important to me to share that with you. Read at your own risk, please!

Read Chapter 14: Broken Heart Syndrome here on AO3!

In medical school, they teach you that a broken heart can quite literally kill you. Acute emotional distress can overstimulate the heart, causing the left ventricle to collapse. Takotsubo cardiomyopathy looks like Japanese takotsubo, an octopus trap. Still, those without medical expertise know it as Broken Heart Syndrome—because three words are all you need to understand what emotional hurt can do to the body. 

A lot of the time though, the human psyche compels a person to find other ways to deal with the pain that eats away at them. Bad coping mechanisms can be just as deadly as a physical disorder. Self-harm doesn’t fix the actual problem, it only distracts your mind momentarily from what is truly hurting you. 

Like with any other disease, a broken heart will get worse if it’s not treated. Either, the organ literally stops pumping blood as it should, or it drives you to a point that would easily get you a free 72-hour stay in the psych ward. Emotions are unpredictable like that.

As a doctor, you know everything in the human body is connected. If the body is sick, it will affect the mind; if the mind is sick, the body will suffer, too. Mental illness can be just as deadly as any terminal condition. If pain and trauma are not properly dealt with, chances are high that ignoring it won’t make you any better. And alcohol or drugs are never the solution to a problem, they only cause one problem to branch into a million more—and then you’re fucked. 

You are aware that self-harm is the first thing a desperate person with a history of trauma will turn to, but it’s so much easier. In practice, life is fucking vile; it’s a miserable existence that is slowly killing all of us, and you would much rather burn the skin off your bones while you’re still alive than face the very demons you’re trying so hard to run from. You know that’s a sick mindset to have, and if it were anyone else confiding these thoughts in you, you would refer them to the Department of Psychiatry to get the help they need. But you… you cannot be helped. Not anymore. Because you don’t want to be helped. It’s all useless anyway. 

The door to your apartment slams shut with a deafening crack of the hinges. As soon as the world is locked behind a deadbolt, and the city has disappeared, your back hits the wall.

A minute ago, he texted you. You prayed for an explanation to a God you don’t even believe in. You prayed that it would all make sense and your brain is spinning in nauseating circles for no reason. You just have to sober up and everything will be okay, you thought. But then you unlocked your phone with shaky and stupidly needy fingers, relying on a hope that stemmed from this childish need to be loved after the one parent you’d had left failed so miserably, and his words drilled into your brain like a sharp knife. 

“You deserve better,” he texted. “I’m sorry.”

What a weak excuse. It’s supposed to be your choice, deciding what or what not you deserve. With one text, he took that from you.   

It was stupid, you think, to get your hopes up. You were just starting to believe that you could finally move on. The weight on your chest felt less heavy with him there. Matt was never supposed to appear in your life, but then he did, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt like your life mattered again. He put a smile on your face. You don’t remember what it is like to be happy because you never really felt happy before. Since you can remember, you have been running for the sake of survival. Anything you have done up until now was a mere act of self-perseverance. 

With Matt, it felt different. He understood you because he, too, seemed to be only existing, trapped in a cage of his trauma’s making. 

You were dating again, albeit reluctantly and fighting back like a cat on steroids—but you were dating again. If you wanted your effort to mean something, you had to get over what happened. It’s not that easy, of course, but you believed her when she talked you down from the ledge. 

You should have listened to your gut. Everyone in your life will eventually end up leaving or hurting you, or both. You’ve been rotting away for so long, there is nothing left of you to give. He touched your heart once, and now you’re falling apart. 

Because there’s not enough of you there to love. 

Because no one wants you. 

You slide down the wood of your door. If only the floor could open up and swallow you, the pain that traps the oxygen just before your lungs could end. And if you could only cut out your amygdala or sever the connections in your prefrontal cortex to stop being this miserable about a man you barely knew, you would. 

The tears running down your cheeks are silent. Dry. They taste like poison on your tongue, but your skin feels almost numb to the burn. You can’t scream or sob because there is no air for you to breathe. You’re drowning on dry land, and the rapid drumming of your heart echoing in your ears is the only sound that exists. It isn’t steady like a clock; it is a ticking time bomb in your chest threatening to explode—threatening to turn into an octopus trap and kill you. 

There was never anything left to endure for. You have been torturing yourself every passing day like a fucking masochist, watching yourself on the big screen like a puppet without the intention to stop. 

Icarus flew too close to the sun, but boy, you flew right into it. You would have made Matt the sun if he had stayed around for long enough, made yourself dependent on him all over again, and you would have drowned regardless. Maybe it was all for a reason; maybe Claire was right, after all, to push you to see the truth for yourself—how foolish you’d been—but why does that reason hurt so damn much? You barely knew him enough to care, and yet you did. It makes no sense. 

You deserve better. If he truly believed that, he would have said it to your face. 

The phone slips from your stiff hand before you can reply. Every muscle in your body strains, stretching over bone and lighting every cell and every nerve on fire. You can’t move. You’re sure you are going to die like this, a mess on your living room floor. 

He broke your heart; Matt Murdock took it right out of your chest and smashed it up because you dared to want more. He wrapped his hands around your neck and suffocated you. He gave you hope, and then he took it away, and that is something you’re sure you will never be able to forgive. What kind of man doesn’t have the decency to tell the truth before it’s too late? 

You tear at your dress, hoping to inflate your lungs somehow. The walls around you threaten to cave in. Everything seems larger than life, suddenly. Even with your hands stretched out before you, you can’t stop the avalanche. 

This isn’t about Matt. It has never been about him. Cracks in the broken foundation of an already shattered heart don’t hurt as much as the first crash, they only add to the agony. How messed up do you have to be, you think, for your brain to not even notice the difference between getting stood up and having the ground ripped out from under your feet? You were never good at math, but perhaps you are the sum of your actions, after all.  

A car honks outside. The bright headlights flash through the gaps in the blinds on the windows. You remember how they hit him one night, reflecting off the pure white of his dress shirt. His chest was heaving then. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, huh?” he had bellowed, drowning out your repeated sorry’s like a tsunami wave. “You embarrassed me in front of… of everyone. My boss, the whole hospital—and you think ‘sorry’ is going to fix it?”

You can’t quite recall whether the lights were white that night, or if they were red and blue, and the only thing louder than his screams were the sirens of cop cars rushing by. 

“You’re never gonna learn,” he’d said, crouching down before you, and he looked like what you would imagine the devil to look like if he were human. “You’re always going to screw up because you, my love, are absolutely and utterly fucking incompetent.”

On second thought, maybe there were sirens outside. They sounded different from your quiet sobs. He forced you to keep your eyes open, to watch as he undid his belt, and against every bone in your body, instead of running, you stayed rooted in place. You stayed there until he grabbed you and threw you into the coffee table. 

The vase stayed intact, thankfully, as it tumbled and fell, but you could see your reflection clearly in the porcelain. You watched him come up behind you, and all you remember is how hollow you were; you were so fucking hollow your heart could have screamed and it only would have echoed before it would have died. You were bound—bound to him. 

“Get up.”

You could have grabbed the vase and smashed him over the head with it. 

“I said,” he repeated, “Get up.”

Your hand slipped from the porcelain, and you got up. It was like he knew you wouldn’t have the guts to kill him. Lord knows you wanted to; some days, you were so close to stealing a knife from the kitchen and slashing his throat while he was asleep. You’d watch him choke on his blood with a smile on your face, you thought, but as soon as the handle was in your hand, you realized that you couldn’t. Not even when you thought about the belt, the feeling of him on top of you as he took whatever the fuck he wanted from you over and over again until he drew blood. 

It should have been enough to make you snap, all the abuse, but you physically couldn’t touch him. At first, you thought you loved him too much to hurt him. Your feelings were complicated and you were hardly aware of how dire your situation truly was, but eventually, you came to the realization that the inability to jab a knife into his jugular had a different reason entirely. 

You had no money, no power, no life outside of him. He seized all of your income. You didn’t own a valid passport, a bank account, or a car. If you had killed him, you would have been a fugitive and a thief. If you had left him, you would have found yourself jobless and disgraced with nowhere to go. No friends, no family, no love. And so every time you wished him dead, the knife wandered back into the drawer. He owned you. 

Toward the end of your relationship, you used to imagine the sirens were coming for you. If you had filed at least one report, maybe someone would have heard. Maybe they would have paid more attention to the cries for help from the neighboring apartment. Maybe then it would have never come this far.

The past can change your future, but you can’t go back in time and change the past. If we could, life would be so much easier. 

You manage to crawl from the door to the couch where there’s a half-empty bottle of tequila hiding in a paper bag. You need to forget to remember how to breathe. 

The burn of liquor blazes through your taste buds, taking them apart and putting them back together all the same. You choke on it when you try to swallow. Nothing has ever tasted quite this bad, but you can’t stop. The dull ache fills your chest, even if it’s just for a second, and you need more. You can’t stop because if you stop drinking and open your eyes, you will see his face again. It’s worse than dying; at least in death, there is peace.

You drink until the already half-empty bottle is empty, wiping the tequila from the corners of your mouth. You sniffle, you gasp for air, and you sob into the dead quiet of your apartment. Matt should not have the power to hurt you this badly. 

The drunker you get, the more his face starts to blur. All faces start to blur. 

“Stupid fucking idiot!” you curse under your breath as you storm into the kitchen, tearing through the liquor cabinet that used to be full but now resembles more of a black hole with stray bottles of vodka all around. 

Drinking pure vodka is like pouring disinfectant directly onto an open, gushing wound. The only difference is that alcohol only works to kill off unwanted bacteria on the outside; it doesn’t exorcize the demons in your head. 

Time keeps running, and the liquor keeps flowing, and you don’t remember which way is up anymore, you only know that it won’t stop fucking hurting. Fuck Claire, fuck Matt, and especially, fuck him. Fuck everyone and God and the whole fucking universe. You just can’t do it anymore.

The cold air hits your face when you stumble out of your apartment complex. Your brain is jumbled, and the world is turning a little too fast. All you know is that the walls were caving in on you, and your veins were swelling with the heat of fury—like you were drowning in your blood. Vodka makes you dumber, yes, but it also singles out one singular emotion for you to obsess over, and you won’t be able to rest until you get it all off your chest. 

A cab pulls up to the curb. You only have a handful of cash, but it should be enough to get you where you want to be. No, where you have to be. 

You catch your reflection in the rearview mirror, makeup smudged and reeking of alcohol and despair. What the driver must think of you—a lonely woman in the back of his cab with her hand clenched tightly around the bottle of maze in her bag, thinking she’s so subtle about how terrified she truly is underneath the mask of anger that drives her. You can never be too careful, never too mistrusting when there are men involved.

The car comes to a halt only ten minutes later. “Are you sure you should still be drinking?” the driver asks, nodding toward the liquor store across from you. 

You scramble with the cash in your hands. “I’m not here to drink,” you manage to say. “I’m visiting a friend.” And you point upward to the dark windows above.  

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You hand him the money. “Keep the, uh, change.”

He is about to protest, wanting to tell you that you overpaid and you might need to pay for a ride back, but you slam the door on him before he can get a word out. You don’t need a stranger to tell you what to do. 

The curb feels unsteady under your feet, almost like the ground might open up and swallow you whole. When you eventually manage to find the door, you almost break the door as you force your way inside. The lock has been broken for quite some time, so a key isn’t required for entry, but there is something about the wood tonight that proves trickier to open. 

Every step up the stairs knocks the air out of your tired lungs. It’s late, and rationally, you know you shouldn’t be here in your current state, but you’re angry and you’re drunk, and you want answers. At least for one of the many shitty things wrong with your life lately, you need to find a reason or you will continue sucking on the bottle of vodka until the lethal limit doesn’t exist anymore. 

On the fourth floor then, you slump against the doorframe, utterly exhausted. Your head is spinning. Your stomach is churning. How many drinks you’ve had before you got here, you can’t even remember, but you are starting to feel the deadly concoction wanting to purchase a ticket for a ride through your esophagus. 

You hammer your fist against the wood. Once, twice, even a third time. No answer. You try again, less gentle this time. Once, twice, a third, a fourth, and a fifth time, and then you lose count. You knock and knock and knock until your knuckles feel like splitting open, but you don’t stop—you use your palm, waiting for the creaking of the floorboards to tell you that someone, anyone, is home. If you could scream, you would have already, but your throat is burnt dry. You abuse the poor door until finally, you hit the air. 

“What–” Claire stops halfway, her eyes falling upon your slouched frame. A meow sounds from inside the apartment. “Liv?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s 2 am!”

You didn’t realize how late it has gotten, or how long you must have been crying and drinking and crying some more. 

“What happened to you?” 

She was asleep. You’ve been trying to call her for days, but here she is, perfectly healthy, wrapped in a robe that isn’t hers, and she has been asleep while you were losing your mind. You were hoping something happened to her, that she didn’t ghost you for no discernible reason, but from the looks of it, she did just that. Yes, she looks miserable with dark circles under her eyes and the room behind her a downright mess, but your mind refuses to be anything but irrational right now. The burning hot anger is back, coursing through your veins at a speed almost too much to handle. 

“What happened to me?” you snap. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two fucking days, and you’re asking me what happened?” 

“Shh!” Claire pulls you inside. The door slams shut behind her, much louder than your voice could ever be. “Jesus,” she says. “Quiet down.” 

A pause. Under her gaze, you almost feel small. Scrutinized, even. “You smell like a fucking distillery,” she adds after a moment of just staring at you—staring as if she had any right to.

“That all you have to say?” Your mouth falls open in a snarl. “Well, fuck you, Claire! Fuck you!”

She flinches, your harsh tone leaving a sharp sting behind. “Okay, maybe we can just sit down and have a conversation like normal people.”

“Unbelievable,” you say. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Normal people. You don’t know what that word even means anymore. You don’t know what anything she says means. You look at her and all you see is alarms blaring in your head, warning you, screaming for you to run, but you are tethered to the ground in the very position you put yourself in.

She utters your name and your entire body recoils.

“Don’t call me that!” It is toe-curling how foreign the word sounds. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, too, like acid raining from the sky. It burns; everything fucking burns. “You know, All I needed was my friend. I needed my friend and you weren’t there,” your voice cracks. “You told me I had to get back out there, and I did. ‘Cause you said it was the right thing to do. I believed you, Claire. I put on this stupid dress and these stupid heels and…” You sob, the memory rubbing salt in the open wound, “Matt fucking stood me up!”

Claire stops dead in her tracks. “What?” she asks.

You laugh through the tears, a sound of complete and utter desperation as you find yourself at a never-ending crossroads. You never learn, do you? 

“He stood me up, okay?” you say. “I went to dinner, he didn’t show up, and then he texted me that we’re not gonna work out, so…” You throw your arms up. “I hope you’re happy. Whatever you were trying to achieve, it obviously worked. I trusted you, and I trusted him, and it kicked me in the ass. Fucking congratulations!” 

It isn’t fair to blame her for his actions, by any means, but you’re just so angry. Your blood is boiling, turning into liquid as thick as tar, and it poisons you from the inside out. You want to scream at him; you want to scream at Matt and ask him why, fucking why did he do that? But you can’t bring yourself to text him, too drunk to make any rational decisions. The voice of reason in your head is a fuzzy, blurry mess. All you want is for this endless cycle of bullshit to end.

Cliare lowers her head. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” she says. “I– I never… I never wanted this to happen.” 

Is that guilt you’re hearing?

“I swear I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. I mean, if I’d known…”

“Save it,” you cut her off, every word from your mouth becoming increasingly slurred. “We both know you wouldn’t have come running ‘cause you clearly had more important things to do. I don’t even know who you are anymore. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have gone to bed without making sure I wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, and now you’re moving into some nurse’s apartment with a cat you’re allergic to, calling in sick and ghosting me. Me! I’m your best friend, for fuck’s sake, and you weren’t there!”

“I told you, I’m sorry. I had some shit going on, and I just couldn’t–”

You scoff. “You’re lying to me, again!”

“Please, Liv, you have to believe me,” she says. “I didn’t know this was gonna happen.” 

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t…” Shaking your head, you tangle your fingers in your hair. You want to pull every last strand out one by one and feed them to the dogs, maybe that will give you your sanity back.

You hate not understanding. You hate not being able to read the person you thought you could trust. She swore she would never lie to you. What can you believe in if even her word is now hanging in the balance? You don’t know, and that’s something you hate, too—not knowing. The helplessness that comes with a dead end makes you want to cower in a corner, smaller than anyone has ever made you feel, and die.

Claire’s silence sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, or maybe that’s your own. The blood is rushing in your ear. You’re standing on hollow ground, and it’s shaking—a ship lost at sea. You have to pinch yourself to stay alert. To stay awake. But the vodka in your system has already made you sick. 

“Woah!” She catches you before you can stumble over your own feet. 

Gravity is tilting your body toward the ground, but your body wants to rush toward the door. You have to run, you think. Why, you’re not sure, but you have to run.

“Hey,” Claire says. “Maybe you should sit down.”

You shrug her off. “Fuck you!”

She lifts her arms above her head, but it is not a motion of surrender. Far from it. She’s giving up and giving in to the anger that is creasing her brows.

“Well, fuck you, too!” She steps away from you. “You come here in the middle of the night, drunk off your ass, and you expect me to just take it? I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna indulge you. Not when you’re acting like a child.”

Your palm hovers above your churning stomach. “How dare you?” you snarl. “I’m not the one acting like a fucking toddler.”

“Have you ever considered that there are things I just can’t tell you? That sometimes, you just have to trust me? I never wanted you to get hurt,” she says. “After the other night, I figured you didn’t need me anymore. If that’s what you’re so mad about, sue me!”

“I did need you.”

It’s her turn to shake her head at you. “No, you didn’t. You decided to go on that date. You didn’t need me for that. But I didn’t…” She takes a deep breath, and her eyes remain guilty as sin. “I never wanted you to get humiliated like that.” 

You are too drunk to process the implications of her cryptic statements. To you, they’re just a series of words on a very fuzzy billboard in your mind; you loathe what you’re hearing. Because you believe her, even though your better judgment is telling you to abandon ship. To jump into the ocean and let it take you away.

“Yeah, well,” you say, “I still did.”

Some scars never heal. Fresh ones tend to tear the ones that haven’t closed yet open, and then it hurts so much more. 

Claire lowers her voice to a more mellow tone then. “I met a guy, okay? Like you, I met a guy, but he screwed things up for me and now I’m stuck here until shit has blown over. That’s why I’m hiding.” She sounds almost like the same woman she was a week ago. Before the world stopped turning. 

“I wish I could tell you everything, but I’m trying to keep you safe,” she says. “I’ve always just wanted to keep you safe.”

“And how’s that turning out for us?”

She scoffs. “Not good, apparently.”

Your knees begin to buckle, unable to hold your weight any longer. Claire reaches out. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Fuck off!” you try to shrug her off again.

“How much?”

“Just… Tequila. Vodka. Half a bottle, quarter, I don’t know.”

“Jesus, Liv,” she says. “You’re insane.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you,” though the words hold a lot less power now.

“Would you stop? I get it. You’re mad. You don’t have to keep insulting me.” She gently guides you over to the couch. “You know, all I wanted was to do right by you, but I can’t be there all the time. Some things, I have to deal with by myself, and yes, I’m sorry for not being there, but I would’ve been if you really needed me.” 

Claire reaches for your coat and pulls it off, much to your dismay. She ignores your scoff, anyway. “I would’ve dropped everything if you’d just called me tonight. You didn’t have to drink yourself into a coma to make your point.”

“I’m fine,” you protest. 

You thought she was done helping you, but her good heart betrays her every time. It’s infuriating. You don’t want to be coddled. You don’t want to be treated like a patient—you’re not. You did this to yourself. The world is spinning. Your stomach feels like a pool of toxic waste, but you did this to yourself, and you’d rather lie in your misery than have her fix it. 

When you try to rise to your feet though, all thoughts fade to black. Your ears start ringing. You blink, trying to get rid of the ocean that is flooding the world around you, but night quickly settles in. You can’t see. 

“You’re not fine.” Claire pushes you back down. “You’re gonna sit down and you’re gonna let me help you.”

You open your mouth to make a snarky remark, but you’re starting to panic. The room is too dark. Your heart beats to the rhythm of mere milliseconds, and you swear you can taste it on your tongue. 

“Do you want to turn into your father?”

The audacity, you think. The words sting worse than a thousand needles in your body. They sting worse than a headache. They sting worse than a knife to the fucking back.

You don’t want to turn into your father. You have never wanted anything less. You want to scream at her. You want to leave. You don’t want to be anywhere near here. But you’re paralyzed on Claire’s couch with her towering over you like the caring nurse she is, and you have nowhere to go. Your body has nowhere to go. 

You did this to yourself.

She tests the pulse on your wrist, then again on your neck. Her voice is starting to fade into the background. The last thing you hear is her berating you for being “so fucking stupid” with the concern of a thousand armies before your thoughts entirely, finally, dissipate. 

The world turns quiet as your body slacks, falling victim to the alcohol in your bloodstream, and it’s the most peaceful you have been in years. 

Thinking nothing. 

Being nothing. 

You wish you could stay like that for the rest of your life. You don’t want to die, not really; you want to think nothing, be nothing, and just float for the rest of your life in a space where no one can ever touch you again. Where he doesn’t exist. Where you have no memory of your father, of the things he did to you. A space where not even Claire exists, and where you can pretend that Matt never stumbled into your godforsaken life, either.

You want to cease to exist. You want the world to end. You want to drown in alcohol until you can’t feel a thing anymore.

In the end, though, life is an endless, vicious cycle; no matter what you do, you won’t escape it until you’re dead—actually dead. And no amount of alcohol could ever change that. 

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes @littleagxs @silas-aeiou

[couldawouldashoulda50]

The Homecoming - Round 1

Overview - William arrives home after the longest road-trip of the 2023/24 season; you both can hardly wait to reconnect.  

Pairing: William Nylander x f!reader.  (Note- the reader is a globally famous musician/singer/songwriter)

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: 18+ only; pregnancy; smut (oral m & f receiving, intercourse; slight masturbation references); fluff; swearing. Be kind, this is my very first time writing/posting...I may not know what the hell I'm doing...just hope it all makes sense.

A/N - this is part of a William Nylander x reader series that I am working on currently.  The following story is based on the present, whereas the WIP series spans the timeframe from when William and the reader meet up to the present day.  I’m sorry; I know this might be like reading the ending first, but it’s literally my very first fic post…there was something with this storyline that just flowed so easily.  I’ve been anxious to just get it out in the universe so I can get it out of my head...I need to be able concentrate on my actual day job again.

*********************************************************************

You lay in bed, sound asleep; two dogs flank your body, both resting peacefully.

Pablo’s head raises suddenly, followed by Banksy.  Each of the dogs leap off of the plush king bed and bolt out of the bedroom as fast as their legs will take them.  

You awaken with the sound of William’s voice as he comes through the door at the front entrance of your home, greeting both dogs with loads of love and affection.

“How are my boys?  How are you?  Were you good for Mama while I was away?  Eh?  Ooooooh…I missed you guys.  I missed your Mama too” William said, half whispering.

Normally you would get up with the dogs and watch the two wriggle and jump up to greet him at the door, smothering him in dog kisses.  You would patiently wait your turn and essentially do the same as Pablo and Banksy; you kiss him gently, wrap yourself around him, whispering to him how much you missed him, and how happy you are that he's home.  He in turn, would murmur a few things against the sensitive skin behind your ear, mostly naughty things that he’s been wanting to do to you.

But now, being 6 months pregnant, and between the aches in your back and hips and your ever growing tummy, William knew how much harder it’s been for you to get comfortable, especially in bed.  He lovingly told you the night before when you spoke that you were to stay put when he arrives home - and no staying awake waiting for him either, he said.

William walks into the overly spacious bedroom with Pablo and Banksy trotting behind him and drops his bags on the couch by the fireplace.  As he unbuttons his white dress shirt, he looks over at you and smiles.  It always catches you…William has smiled at you a million times over and still, each and every time, your heart expands with absolute adoration for him.  “Hi, my love” you say, longingly.

He walks towards the bed, tilting his head to the side to look at your face in the dim light.

“How are you feeling?  I forgot to ask you - did this thing help you sleep at all?” William nods his head toward the large body pillow that he brought home for you before he left on his trip. 

You break out into a grin.  Lately, your hormones have kicked into high gear, with vivid sex images with William being the only thing on your mind.  So while the pillow gave you the comfort and support you needed, the firm plush piece that was nestled between your thighs only exasperated your unruly libido.  “Hmmm, well…it helped once I actually fell asleep” you said, gliding your hand over the fabric, “but….it’s this thick piece between my legs…all it made me think of is the thick thing between your legs.  I feel like a dog in heat…so that part’s been fucking torture.”  

William laughs as he continues to undress. He throws his shirt and the rest of his clothing on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, leaving his shorts on.  You immediately stare at his package and bite your lip, unintentionally releasing a tiny moan.

“I mean it…I’m not  kidding.  It’s all I can think about…and William, I’m telling you….the thoughts I have about you are just fucking filthy”.  

You pressed your thighs together against said pillow to try to get some relief from the pressure that’s heightening around your core.  You really weren’t exaggerating; your hormones are raging and you swear you could fuck him into next week and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“Seriously, you have to help me…it’s required as part of your husband/pre-DILF duties”.

“Didn’t you…you know…take care of ‘business’ yourself at all while I was gone?” a wry smirk appeared on his lips.  “You could have mentioned what was going on with you when we Facetimed…I could have…y’know - walked you through what I would have done if I was here…” William said coyly.

“Mmmmm…I thought about it - I thought maybe showing you how badly I needed you while you watched me...taking care of business.. that I would get some relief that way” you said, your voice soft with a hint of seduction.

“But I knew the minute I got going, no matter what I used - fingers, toys…whatever - the only thing that would completely satisfy me is a nice hard dick.  And not like my Willy’s cock clone that I have to break out when you’re away - I literally only want your dick inside me.  God damn, it’s so fucking good…” you smile up at him, gripping the pillow a little harder now.  Even just talking about his cock is turning you on.

“So, yeah…”, your eyes trail back down to his shorts, as you nod to his unwrapped gift “there’s that.”  You pause; there’s not many things you feel uncomfortable telling William but you’re not quite certain how he’ll react with your next confession. “There’s something else too.  Your joy juice - that’s the other thing I’m craving…fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it.  On my face, in my mouth….fed to me….”, you blush and giggle a little with your admissions, but you have no filter now as your desire for him was reaching a fever pitch. “This pregnancy has turned me from a respected musician to William Nylander’s personal cum slut”, you said dryly,

William’s mouth drops open a little but a wry smile begins to form on his lips.  “Oh really, eh?  You’re my personal cum slut?” he laughs.  “Well then…what wifey wants, wifey shall get”.

You watch each movement of his muscular body as he crawls up onto the bed, slides under the sheets and duvet, and shifts his body towards you.  He lay on his side, his gorgeous face close enough to yours that you can feel his breath.  

“Seriously….I missed you so much, William.  It felt like you were gone forever.  You looked amazing during the games though…as usual”, you said, bringing your hand up to trace his jawline.  You think to yourself, ‘God - you are so gone for this man’.    

“I missed you too - it was a long fucking trip....all I wanted was you like this, all... day... long,” William smiles and leans in, kissing you gently; his arms circle around you, supporting your body as he pushes the giant pillow out of the way and engulfs you in his embrace.  He slides his hand down onto your baby bump, hoping to feel a kick from your unborn son.  You scan his face as he does the same to yours; you gently graze his lips, wanting to breathe him in more. It’s not long before there’s a flurry of activity from your tummy, as though the baby wants to show off some tricks for his Dad.  

With you in his arms and feeling his baby kick, William’s turquoise eyes are fixed on yours; he smiles widely at the fluttery feeling from the baby’s movements…he finds himself completely mesmerized by you.  

He leans in for a deeper kiss.  Your hand snakes along his jawline into his thick mane of blonde hair, pulling his mouth to yours.  That initial taste of his tongue against yours evokes a long, breathy moan from your mouth.  Your hunger for him now borders on animalistic.  You’re afraid that your need for him is wound so tightly that once he touches your engorged pussy, he might actually send you into orbit.

Every touch on each other’s body elicits extended drawn out moans that are untamed, as your mouths feast on each other’s taste.  

William’s hand slowly slides along the underside of your round stomach, and in no time, his hand dips under the band of your cotton panties.  You’ve told him of your desperation already, but when his middle finger reaches the top of your slit, he moans as slides his thick digit into your wet folds.  He watches you as you close your eyes and grip his shoulders at the mere grazing of your clit.  Your breathing has already become erratic and he has barely even begun working you over.  

“Fuck - please…William…..I need you inside of me…please…” you whisper close to his ear.

“I know - soon, min Ӓlskling…here, come up here, I want to see all of you…I’ve missed touching your body”.  William gently removes his fingers from underneath your panties.  

William kicks back the sheets and props himself up on his one forearm.  You sit up on your knees and William helps you slide your panties off.  His eyes darken as he glimpses at your exposed pussy; the sheen of wetness that he spread with his finger apparent.  

The road trip was long and despite his focus on the ice - which led to a number of stellar performances from him - when he could allow his thoughts to wander, he only thought about you.  Although he knows you desperately need a release, he wants to savour every moment of this homecoming too.  He planned to take his time with you, he just didn’t expect you to be wound so tightly with your pent up yearning for him.

His hands reached out to caress your pregnant belly again; William is completely infatuated with the way you look.  Prior to getting pregnant, your breasts were already one of his favourite features on you but in the past month, they have become even more full and voluptuous.  His hands move up from your stomach and they cup each breast.  You look down at his shorts which are fully tented now and you can hardly wait to wrap your hand, your mouth, your core,  in whatever order, around his thick member.  

William raises himself up and begins to kiss your neck, slowly and sensually.  His mouth feels so agonizingly good; you whisper how in love you are with him as you run your fingers through his hair.  William begins kissing your soft, round breast and with his tongue pointed, he slowly begins to lick your tightened nipple in a circular motion.  The intense sensation of his wet tongue and hot breath connecting with your nipple immediately rocks you; your body is so highly sensitive to his touch, everything he does sends a shockwave down to your core.  You can’t help but to grab the back of his head with your one hand, fisting his hair in order to keep his mouth latched to your nipple.  Seeing your reaction as he continues to lick and suck on one of your tits, he begins to manipulate your other nipple with the fingers of his left hand.  

His other hand begins to travel down from your stomach to your pussy, now drenched in your juices.  His middle finger toys with your clitoris, and he feels your grip tightening in his hair.  He inserts his middle finger deep into your core, and as he gyrates his hand, you cry out to him, grabbing his wrist as your hips begin to writhe around on his hand.  He begins to alternate between finger-fucking you and spreading your wetness around your highly sensitive bud.

William withdraws both his mouth from your nipple and his finger from your folds.  You whimper at their departure but the sound is muffled by his mouth as he kisses you slowly.  You lessen your grip on his hair as your mouths and tongues lightly graze each other.  Exhaling deeply and biting your lip yet again, you lean your forehead against his, trying to stabilize your breathing.  

With your fingers splayed wide, you run both your hands down his chest.  You don’t know how you’ve gotten to be so fortunate to be able to touch this man so intimately.  

“Climb on top of me, Y/N…on top of my face” William said in a voice low and gravelly, as he lay on his back.  “I wanna make you cum so hard for me”   

William knows in once sense that he might be tormenting you a little with not just fucking you into the mattress like he knows you want.  It might seem selfish, but he’s been needing you as much as you’ve needed him lately, and he’s looking to draw this out for a little longer to savour every bit of you. 

William helps you straddle him.  Having your legs opened up, allowing your pussy to connect with William’s muscular torso gives way to the urge to rub and grind your dripping cunt against him.  William’s eyes are transfixed on your movements; he’s completely engrossed watching you rock back and forth, while you cradle the underside of your belly for support.   You look ethereal, angelic even as your long hair sweeps across his forearms.  Your eyes are fluttering shut; waves of desire pulsate through your core.  You lean your head back and your long curls fall between his legs and start grazing his member.  

William’s hands move around your body, his desire for you on full display. 

“Come here…come up here - I need to taste you now, Y/N”.

You lace your fingers with William’s as he helps you move on your knees until your swollen entrance is hovering above his mouth.  The initial contact when his pointed tongue licks the entire length of your wetness has you clutching the headboard.  ‘You’re in trouble now’ you think to yourself.

William expertly swirls his tongue around your aching nub as he steadies your hip movements with his strong grip to the rhythm he has dictated.   He continues to alternate between sucking on your sweet spot and tongue-fucking you, driving you to the edge of insanity with the stimulation.  The vibration of each moan from William adds to the intense pleasure that courses through your body.  You match his moans with shrieks of delight, quivering whimpers, and his name falling from your lips on a continuous loop.  

Suddenly, your head snaps back as your cunt is flushed with heat, and instinctively you clench your inner walls.  You can feel your orgasm building like a tidal wave and you slam both hands against the headboard and grip the fabric for dear life.  

“Will! Will - Willi-um - I’m…fuck!!  Oh my GOD…please!  William!” letting out a sharp cry as your voice strains.

William keeps working his magic between your thighs, his hands still in control of your hip movements. 

You might end up tearing your upholstered headboard at this rate, your knuckles have turned white from your vice-grip like hold.  Your mouth is open but there is no sound, only heavy pants as your hips try to buck wildly against William’s restraint.  

Then your orgasm hits, crashing into you like a tidal wave making you cry out for William.  You grab a hold of the pillow that William’s head is resting on; your breath is shaking as your body slows its writhing, twitching with your final release.

You lift yourself up so you could scooch down a little further back onto his torso; up until now, your pregnant belly obstructed your view of William’s face while he worked you into delirium.   

“Oh my God….William….” you said as you looked down at him.  You smooth his tousled hair from his face and using the side of your thumb, you start to gently swipe your lady juice from around his mouth and his dense five o’clock shadow.

His eyes are locked on yours and as he sits up, he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss.  “See how fucking good you taste?” he said, smirking.

“You are fucking incredible…absolutely amazing, my husband…” you said breathlessly, lips still connected with his. 

You remain straddling William and you reach behind to gently touch his fully erect cock.  You feign surprise as though you had opened up the best present of your life, letting out a gasp followed by a moan.  Your gaze returns to William’s face and in a voice thick with desire, you simply say “Mmmm…my turn…”

You are desperate to quench the insatiable urge to taste his cum.  You slide off William’s lap and he lets himself fall back onto the mattress.  You start by kissing and running your tongue down his flesh towards his cock.  When you reach his treasure trail, you take your time stroking his path with your tongue.  You work your way down until his flawless member is directly in front of you; his above average length and supreme girth makes your mouth salivate and pussy throb simultaneously.   The head of his dick is coated with pearlized liquid and you waste no time by running your tongue along his tip, dipping your tongue into the hollow spot at the top repeatedly which encourages more precum to leak from the smooth head.  

Grunts and groans, followed by your name fall from William’s mouth as you accept the full length of his firm cock toward the back of your throat.  Your senses are going wild; the feel of his dick in your mouth, the faint smell of his body wash and cologne, the salty-sweet taste of his seeping arousal.  You try to shift your body to find a more comfortable angle as you continue to suck and deep-throat his member.  You love giving him head, but the discomfort from leaning over with a baby growing inside of you is creating a lot of pressure around your abdomen and back.

“William - I’m so sorry…I don’t think I can lean over like this…the baby…”

William sits up, a slight look of concern on his face.  “Are you ok?? Do you want to stop?”

“NO!!  God - no…I just need to find a better position” you said, rubbing your belly.  

William leans over the side of the bed reaching for the large pregnancy pillow he bought you.  You watch this dream of a man shift the other pillows that have been strewn around on the bed to make room.  He’s kneeling as he guides you towards the pillow, his leg muscles showing every contour and his magnificent cock juts out, still rigid from what you were doing to him with your mouth moments ago.

“Let me hear how much you missed my cock fucking you,” William growled as he kissed your mouth.

You crawl over to the pillow, your round ass up in the air, on display for William.  You look back at him, flip your hair to the side and smile sweetly as he stares at you, his mouth slightly agape.

You manipulate the pillow so it supports your entire midriff comfortably.  Conveniently, it also allows you to arch your back a little more; it’s a clear invitation to William that you want whatever he’s offering from behind.  His dick starts to twitch - William knows exactly what you want from him in this position.

Your pussy is already wet, but William’s cock is substantial and needs extra lubrication before he enters you.  His fingers deftly caress your clitoris and as you moan his name, and it’s not long before he knows you’re primed and ready for him.  He gives you a kiss on one of your ass cheeks and then gives you a little spank.  He lines the tip of his dick up to your swollen folds, running it through the wetness that has pooled at your centre.  He begins to push his dick into your entrance slowly; his strong grip on your hips helping him slide in.  

You moan loudly as his cock stretches your walls; the initial pain quickly gives way to pleasure as your eyes roll into the back of your head.  William buries his cock deep into your core and when he’s fully inside of you, he holds you in position for a moment.  You clench around his cock and you give into the urge to rotate your hips just to feel his dick move inside of you.  

You glance at William over your shoulder as your pent up desire gives way to full desperation for him to fuck you hard.  William’s gaze meets yours; a crooked smile starts to form on his face.

William begins with slow movements - he is torturing you in the best possible way right now.  He knows the build-up will be more satisfying for you in the long run rather than just pounding your pussy mercilessly straight out of the gate.  

“William…oh my god” you whisper breathlessly.  “Please….you feel so fucking good…please, I need you to fuck me…” you beg.

You try to satiate your need for him to rail you by rotating and bucking your hips as he presses his cock deeper each time he enters you.

You hear a faint chuckle from William followed by a low moan as he increases his speed.  

Your face falls and is now buried in the pillow and your words are muffled as he begins his firm and rhythmic thrusts.  

“Oh my God William….oh my god…fucking….please….fuck me…” you wail.  As he moves in and out of your cunt, he can feel the hard grip of your walls around his shaft    

“Fuuuuck me…you are so fucking tight Y/N…” William grits his teeth as he continues to bury his cock inside of you, thrusts becoming more rapid; the erotic sounds of grunts and moans from both of you collide with the sound of skin slapping against skin.  

You clutch the sheets as he continues to ride you hard.  He grabs the meatier flesh at the top of your ass and continues to pound you, your moans sound more like a siren now…continuous cries reverberate off the walls.  

He gathers your hair into his one hand as his other hand moves up and grips your shoulder, allowing him to penetrate you deeper.  You feel like you’re descending into insanity, your mind is overwhelmed by pure ecstasy and all you can do is succumb to your body’s state of bliss.  

William looks down at you as his fast and powerful thrusts are making your legs start to quiver.  He watches as your toned muscles in your arms and back constrict, covered in a light sheen of sweat as he fulfils all of your desires.  William growls as he reaches the height of his arousal; his hips move erratically and his fingertips indent your flesh ever further.  He looks down and sees your own arousal decorating his cock with opaque streaks as it pools around his base.  He grunts at the sight of your slickness and is so close to relief but he wants to make sure you cum first.

“I’m so close, baby - fuck….fuck….you feel so fucking good” William groans.  

Your cheeks are blazing hot as your orgasm takes hold of your body.  It’s a feeling so intense that your body feels like it’s short-circuiting.  “I’m right there - right there….oh my God William!” you shriek, grappling with the mattress from the sheer force of your release.  Your thighs try to close together and you buck wildly as your pussy clenches William’s cock so hard that you push him right out of you.  William quickly grabs his dick and with a few firm pumps, he unleashes his load onto your ass.

“Holy shit Y/N….” William said after a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

You lie there, body still trembling as the aftershock of such a forceful orgasm travels through your body.  You remain in the same position with William still behind you.  You shift your head so your forehead is resting on the pillow as your breathing begins to slow.   

“Y/N?” William’s voice is soft and low.

“Mmmm-hmm” is all you can muster.  He senses you smiling into the pillow.

“You still have that craving?  You know…my - what’d you call it….joy juice?

Drawing out the same sound, you respond “Mmmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmm” while giving your ass a little wiggle. 

You hear William chuckle slightly as he runs two fingers through the streams of his cum on your skin.  You manage to find the strength to push yourself back up onto your hands, flipping your matted curls to the side as seductively as possible.  He stares at your mouth as you accept his coated middle and ring fingers, your tongue swirling around his digits, making sure you’ve licked every single drop of his cum from his fingers.  You hold onto his hand, placing open-mouthed kisses on his palm and then place it on your still hot cheek.  He responds by placing gentle kisses along your shoulder-blade and murmurs how much he loves you.

Gingerly, you both begin to move; he comes along to your side and helps guide your body back in between the arms of the pregnancy pillow.  He peppers you with kisses and you lazily run your fingers through his hair, unable to stop smiling.  He manages to squeeze in right next to you and as he pulls you into his chest, you exhale deeply.  This is your favourite spot in the whole world; wrapped in William’s arms, your face against his broad and beautiful chest.

“You feel better now - you got what you wanted?” William quietly asks, chuckling into your hair.

“I think I’m still cumming, if that’s even possible…so fucking good”, you mumble into his chest.

After a few minutes, William kisses the top of your head and starts to get up out of bed.  

“I’ll be back in a second…do you need anything?”

You moan and exaggerate a pout followed by a smile….never wanting to leave the warmth and comfort of his embrace.  You smile and shake your head ‘no’ while sliding towards the edge of the bed, holding your belly and trying to look somewhat graceful.  William offers both of his hands to help stand you up.  You grab William’s white dress shirt from the end of the bed and put it on; his natural smell mixed with his cologne almost makes you weak in the knees.

William pulls you back into him, his hands roaming under his dress shirt as he presses his lips against yours.  “You have to let me take a picture of you in this…you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you look right now”.

You smile against his lips.  “You can do whatever you want with me when you come back to bed”.  Your hands slowly descend to his ass; you gently rub yourself against his member, now cloaked under his shorts.

William groans against your lips and apprehensively breaks from your embrace.  He summons for the dogs to come.

“I’m taking the dogs out so we can sleep in a bit tomorrow.  Get ready for Round 2” he purrs.

You watch him walk away with the dogs in tow; the view of his muscular stature and his tight round ass as he exits your bedroom has you clenching your thighs, needing him all over again.

[ghouldtime]

Hello again! Since you said that you HC König to be Styrian, do you think he'd be the kind of person to sometimes speak his dialect with reader to tease them a little? The dialect is kinda hard to understand for people, who only speak High German (the German you find in texts and the one you're taught at school and stuff). Because I speak with a dialect as well and I'd love nothing more than to banter with König in our Austrian dialect together! Of course, there's a thousand dialects in Austria! So, someone from Styria has a hard time understanding someone from Vorarlberg, but still! (Also, because I HC him from the southern part of Styria, I like to imagine he "barks" a little when he speaks! It's gotten better as he grew up, but when he gets drunk he still barks, which makes it harder to understand him! It's really hard to understand some people from southern Styria >.< Are we allowed to share our own HCs with you? I just thought it'd make sense since I am Austrian! Not trying to sound entitled or anything, of course! But I just love giving him HCs of things I'm familiar with :>)

Anyway, sorry for the long ask! Have a nice day! ^^

💚💚💚💚💚 HELLLLOO it's great to see you back again :D I hope you're doing well! Also prefacing this with I'm an American so I'm admittedly not the most well versed in everything Austrian! I do put in my research and know some but I haven't even been there so if I'm ever wrong, absolutely feel free to correct me (I try my best not to be totally ignorant)

To answer your question simply in one word: ABSOLUTELY. Caps, bold, and all.

Naturally, his default IS his dialect. That's what he grew up speaking, that's what he learned, that's what sounds the most correct to him. Yes, it's not the standard, but it's HIS standard.

If reader doesn't know his dialect or if he's going out of his way to be a bit of a little shit, he'll be teasing about it - he's got a sense of humor (as unconventional as it might be). Assuming reader is learning German, he of course will still be helpful with teaching! He'll speak the "textbook" standard, but he's still slipping his dialect in, especially if they're catching onto what he's saying and he wants to make a sly comment.

What did he just say? Oh, nothing, you'll figure it out :) .... eventually, in due time.... and maybe a few post it notes in your text books there...

If they already know German, he'll pretty much insist on his dialect and will maybe speak a bit slower if you're lucky. But he'll talk so much if he likes you, you'll catch on - sooner or later (all apart of his masterplan). He's far more comfortable speaking German so he naturally adopts a faster talking pace too to match

Side note Dialects are SO interesting. One of my pals is Norwegian and he'd look me dead in the eyes and switch to another dialect whenever I understood him. Frustrating, actually pretty hilarious, and gives me MORE incentive to learn and to try and figure it out. How a single language can vary so differently from place to place in the same country is very interesting to see and hear alike

(Also you're absolutely welcome to share head cannons with me anytime!! 💚💚💚 I love hearing them and I love seeing that people can relate and have their own experiences to add. It really adds depth when we know we're never getting more than the bare minimum and it's not entitled at all its so nice to hear these little details)

I'm absolutely on board with that head cannon and support it FULLY in every sense of the word. That's 110% HIM. Since he wasn't much of a talker as a kid too I think it certainly was much more pronounced for that reason before it lessened as he grew up, and especially had more exposure to his peers.

I adore niche head cannons like this, it's my bread and butter. Because you KNOW we'd not get that level of love and attention to detail with or from the game alone and it's just adding that extra pizzazz, that extra depth that he deserves

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚 If you don't mind, I'll adopt that for him because it's so perfect??? It's so him I just love the idea so so so much

[mamawasatesttube]

I feel so shy not being able to hide in the anon asks but for the sake of desperation I'll ask anyway.

First of all I must say that I love the way you express yourself, because even though you are against some things, or at least you don't like them. You express it so well and so respectful that's addicting.

Anyway the questions were what you thought about Tim+Kon+Bernard, because I've seen a lot of people talking about it but I don't know if it makes much sense if you think of their relationship.

Also if you had some songs that reminded you of Kon I'd love the recs! Because I'm still a newbie in the whole DC comics, but I've been having a Kon brain rot for a while.

Sorry if I don't express myself correctly, English isn't my first language. If any of this makes you uncomfy please feel free of ignoring me and I hope you have plenty of good days!!💕💕 Be careful to not catch a cold

aww thank you that's very sweet of you to say!!! :D i do love to simply start talking and rambling all the time. one of my top skills. (and yeah i turned off anon asks a while ago because unfortunately talking about racism in fandom often gets you labelled a bitch with a terrible personality 😔✊ alas!)

as for tim/kon/bernard ... i really, really dislike that ship. it takes everything i already strongly dislike about tim/ber (tim drake: robin is the worst comic i've ever read, and i'm including jeph loeb's supergirl when i say this), and multiplies it by a factor of about 500.

my biggest problem with tim/ber is that megfitz wrote them with absolutely no actual chemistry. there is nothing in the text to tell me why they actually like each other. there is nothing in the text that tells me what the issues in their relationship are, or how they might grow together as people, or anything. which is absolutely insane because you'd think "bernard knows tim's secret identity, but has not told tim that he knows" would be a MAJOR point of conflict, but instead it's just completely glossed over to the point of the comic asking us to accept that the bats would ever allow a mob of random civilians on a mission with them. there's stretching suspension of disbelief, and then there's putting suspension of disbelief on the medieval torture rack and tearing it apart. like. come ON. (tdr is also like. teehee gentrification but its cute? which is insane to me in a different way. its just. its so bad. its such a bad comic.)

so adding kon to that mix kind of gives me hives because a) we have all of my issues with tdr being incredibly inconsistent, both internally and with all existing tim characterization ever, and b) it brings up all of my issues with how kon has been written since yj2019. which i could get into Yet Again but in the interests of being at least a little bit concise, it's also incredibly inconsistent and drives me bonkers. so the concept of this ship just makes me go "why the FUCK" because i just truly genuinely cannot fathom why kon and bernard would ever give a shit about each other. i can barely even fathom why tim and bernard give a shit about each other because megfitz did the comic script equivalent of picking up two barbie dolls and mashing them together and going LOOK THEYRE IN LOVE. they have no consistent characterization under her pen.

so adding kon into that just makes me want to tear my hair out a little bit because. like. to be entirely honest i don't know how some random dude from one of tim's many high schools who tim was friendly with, sure, but not particularly close with, can hold a candle to Whatever The Fuck Tim And Kon Have Going On. especially with how flat their relationship reads to me in tdr (what do they even like about each other??? why is bernard in fucking biophysics or whatever while wanting to be a chef??? why does tim not go "you know culinary school exists right??" when he finds out??? how am i supposed to believe that tim "duty" drake would ever leave people in a burning building just for his sad boyfriend??? that batman and co would ever let a bunch of civilians fight alongside them - or for that matter, that they'd need bernard to tell them tim's in trouble?? what the fuck alternate dimension are they from where any of this makes sense???). tim/ber just is such a nothing ship to me that adding kon to it is just like. EXTREME nothing. to me tim/ber/kon is basically a flag that says "i don't care about characterization" and it's just so very deeply NOT my thing at all whatsoever.

...which is why to ME tim's first boyfriend is ives, not bernard, and in this essay i will--

ahem. anyways!! re: kon songs, oh man i have a lot. i have a whole playlist even. with a linked document to explain every song choice. i also lately have been thinking about making a second playlist for all the songs that didn't make it onto the first one!! much to consider.

also don't worry your english is totally fine ♥ and it's very sweet of you to wish me well healthwise and also a little funny because actually i am just getting over a cold that had me sniffly and miserable most of last week. but i'm much better tonight so yippee!! thank you again :D