#all in vain rules

[monstersteam]

2/5

[ollierachnid]

Coloured renditions of my initial swapped-ghostbusters au, now featuring the rest of them!

(I will explain roles/dynamics at some point soon, I swear, but my main note is that the key aspects of the characters' personalities remain consistent with canon and so changes have been made to the narrative to fit better)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good Morning, World.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

rewatched once upon time for the first time in forever i cant believe ive never realised or thought about the variety of the memories that they go through?

like the doctor's and vinder's are real, though with the highlighted contrast that she doesnt know how it ends and wants to and he knows exactly how it ends and doesnt want to get there again (i wonder if he wouldve made the same choice again? if he couldve done something different in this reliving, would he have?)

whereas yaz and dan live memories that havent happened and seem to be scenarios of their possible lives if they hadnt met the doctor. here with the difference that yazs memories also plausibly could be visions of the future ("this isnt my house!" yet. "these things havent happened to me!" yet.) while dan's date with diane is not the one he missed out on bc he got kidnapped. also dan's are a lot more unstable, he keeps jumping through time, meeting people he cant meet, even sees the time mites. i know they say something is also wrong with yazs timeline bc the angel is in there but honestly i dont really get it all (it's coming after yaz to get to the doctor, right?)

[thylionheart]

I’ve mentioned before, I’m making a folklore book for my baby nibling and of course we want a multi-regional book of folklore so I am desperately trying and failing to find a Mesopotamian myth where sex isn’t too important a plot point

[multistanasitsfinest]

Every time. Idk if Miles will ever sing this live, but if he does you BET I'll be crying my eyes out.

[ozymoron]

hate when im reminded im actually talented and that most people cant draw the kind of shit i can draw and that its actually kinda incredible i can do what i can do and that im just so used to being in art spaces that i forget its a genuine skill most people dont have

[frecklenog]

“self immolation as a form of extreme political protest has a long history all over the world, and aaron bushnell’s death should not be discussed solely as a suicide”

and

“people who are already hurting and vulnerable can do more to help while they are still alive than they could in death, and should not repeat aaron bushnell’s actions”

are statements that can and must coexist, actually.

he felt that he was complicit in genocide as an active duty us service member, and, to an extent, he was. but also as an active duty service member, he was legally not allowed to quit his job as a member of the military.

his final act was to take drastic measures to draw attention to a genocide that many people in this country are turning a blind eye towards, and i commend him for his sacrifice. it should be honored and remembered.

that doesn’t mean i want anyone to feel that they should follow in his footsteps.

he should not have been made, by nature of his employment, to feel that he was complicit in genocide, because those in power should not be funding and supporting it in the first place. but they are doing so, and he made it clear that did feel that way. we can’t change that. that doesn’t give us the right to dismiss and ignore his actions.

“this [genocide] is what our ruling class has decided is normal.” and it shouldn’t be.

keep bushnell’s message in mind as you organize. protest, fundraise, call your representatives. these are actions that have a tangible effect. and they do far more to help than dying.

but i’m not going to condemn him, just as i’m not going to condemn the likes of thích quảng đức. i’m not going to say that his death was worthless, because it brought undeniable attention to the matter at hand, despite attempts by american media to gloss over why he did what he did.

i understand where people are coming from — self immolation is a deeply disturbing thing to witness, even blurred. i was very deeply affected by the video. but that’s exactly why he did it; to get through to people that this matters.

i don’t want anyone else to die, either. but remembering aaron bushnell and what he died for is not synonymous with encouraging suicide.

his last words were “free palestine” and, as people living in countries that are funding extermination, it is our job to carry on that cry until palestine is free.

that means living to see it through. ensure that he did not die in vain.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon commission for Anna

Request: How about something like a bunny girl ventures into a forbidden part of the forest by accident while foraging for winter, and is taken by a werewolf who has been exiled from his pack? I wouldn't mind some overstimulation, a bit of CNC, praise kink, etc. But honestly, do whatever you think works! I'll be happy with just about anything.

Bunnydoll

Werewolf x werebunny fem!reader || (light) CNC, praise kink, chasing, knotting, dom/sub dynamics, dub-con (heavy), dirty talk || tw: implied kidnapping

You were just foraging, you tried to convince yourself of that. Nothing wrong with going out of the cave when he wasn’t there. It didn’t matter that he forbid you. You were just foraging the first time he got to you, too. And then you were his. You were his mate and now the sole member of his pack. He caught you once… And he would catch you again.

You heard his howl in the distance, and you threw the basket into the ground, all your berries falling to the ground. And before you could realize, you were running.

Your paws taking you as fast as possible through the woods. But you knew you weren’t fast enough. You knew he could catch you. You knew you shouldn’t have run in the first place. He had very few rules, and one of them was no running away from him. Your bunny brain couldn’t grasp what would happen, not really. But you ran… You ran for him.

And he promised.

He promised he would catch you and he would fuck you. And you… You ran. You weren’t sure if you wanted that or not. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be caught. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to catch you… But he promised he would, and you were running through the woods with a feral werewolf on your tail. It was probably a bad decision on your part, but you couldn’t turn back now.

Your ears kept twitching trying to catch a sound in the wind, to know if he was, in fact, behind you. But you couldn’t hear anything. You couldn’t hear him, or the woods, or anything over your beating heart. The fear running in your veins was just passed by the arousal crushing your body. You didn’t want to get caught, did you? But you couldn’t ignore the fact that you did ran. Even if he promised, you ran away from him…

And you were going to pay the consequences.

You heard him before you saw him, a howl not too far away from you, followed by his words, spiking anxiety inside your trembling body. “I told you I was gonna catch you. Told you it was in vain to run…” His growl behind you made you shiver, your whole body froze in the middle of the clearing. You didn’t know where he was, but you knew he won. He caught you.

“I- I’m…” You stuttered, no words coming out of your mouth, your ears twitching again, trying to locate him in the woods. You couldn’t see him. Not hear where he was.

He laughed cruelly at your stuttering, making you shiver. “Don’t. I didn’t say you could talk, did I?” You closed your mouth audibly, silencing your pleas and your denials. “Strip. Lay down on the floor, legs up your chest, I want to see how wet you are. I want to see what the chase did to you. And I don’t want to hear a peep while you do.” His orders were enough to make you want to whine, and you did, biting down on your lip to avoid crying. Tears prickled in your eyes as you did what he asked.

You laid your clothes on the hard floor and laid on top of them, grabbing your legs and pushing them against your chest, exposing yourself completely to his eyes. You saw him then, his bloodthirsty eyes focused on your dripping center. You felt embarrassed to know what the chase did to you, and even more so when he laughed at you, approaching and dragging his claw along your wet pussy.

“I told you I would catch you. I told you I would get what’s mine.” His words sounded crazed, his fangs glistening in the night as he laid over you, your legs over his shoulders and his leaking erection right where it belonged. He didn’t wait, didn’t give you a heads up, he pushed inside you as you threw your head back and cried out. “Such a good girl.” You couldn’t avoid clenching around his length, his fangs pressing down on your neck when you inhaled harshly at his words. “I felt that, do you like when I praise you? You like to be praised like the good little whore you are? You can talk now.” His filthy words in your ear made you squirm and whimper.

You wanted to say no, you wanted to deny the effect he had in you, but when you opened your mouth to say anything, the only words that left were: “Yes, yes please.”

“Please, what? What do you want me to do to your cute bunny-pussy?” He was lazily fucking into you, not caring about your pleasure, just jerking his cock with your pliant pussy, using you like the bunnytoy you were.

“Fu- fuck me,” you told him, not a plea, not an order, but a request. His lazy thrusts were accompanied by his fangs grazing your neck over and over, right over your pulse point, making your heart skip a beat and your pussy clench around him. The danger of it, the feel of being consumed and treated just like a prey… it aroused you to no end.

He laughed at you, once again. “That’s not all you want, is it? Be truthful right now, little whore. I will give it to you, you just need to ask. Come on, again: what do you want me to do?” You knew what he wanted you to say. You knew what he was waiting for.

And you embarrassed yourself whispering: “Knot me.”

He chuckled at your pitiful voice and fucked into your with intent, his hips hitting your body and making you fold like a pretzel. “Louder,” he ordered.

“Knot me!” You screamed into the night, not worried anymore if someone heard you. He was hitting all your good places, and it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed all.

“That’s right, you are such a good girl. Do you deserve a knot? Do good girls deserve to be knotted?” His praise paired with his cruel tone made you whimper and try to grind your hips up to meet his. He didn’t let you, his teeth pressing against your neck and reminding you who had all the power there.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Please,” you could only beg.

“Good needy little whore. I’ll give you my knot. But first, you have to do something for me.” You felt tears running down your face as he kept fucking your pussy like you were just a toy.

“Wha- what?” You asked, desperation bleeding into your tone.

“Tell me how good it feels, tell me how good I fuck your pussy. Tell me your pussy is all mine.” You thought about it for about two seconds before realizing it might be the only way you could fight back a bit, challenge him for the power.

“It feels good,” you lied.

“Just good? Don’t be a liar now.” He laughed. “I could stop. If you aren’t enjoying it I could stop right now and leave you here, panting and desperate.”

You shook your head over and over. “No, no, no, no! I- I love it. I love your dick. I love it.” You were increasingly louder, his thrusts hitting your G-spot and his claws grazing your clit, a threat of a good time mixed with the danger of its sharpness.

“That’s a good little bunnywhore. What else?” He punctuated each word with a thrust, your eyes rolling back into your head. His questions were driving you insane, your brain could barely process anything when he played with you like that.

“My- My pussy is yours,” you let out, surrendering to him completely.

“Damn right it is. And you know what I do with my pussy?” You shook your head, tears flowing and ears twitching, your paws grabbing onto the back of his head as he whispered in your ear: “I knot it.” And then you felt the telltale sign of his knot asking for entrance, demanding it. He pushed in and out a few more times, the filthy sounds of your pussy making you blush redder and redder, your years flopping over your head every time he thrusted inside. And when his knot finally pushed inside, you let out a silent cry, your brain too gone to even produce sounds. “Keep talking, little whore. Tell me how does it feel. Does it feel good to have a big knot inside of you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chanted. You knew he wanted words, but you couldn’t get two thoughts in a row without one of them being how great it felt to have him inside of you. “It feels great. I love it. I love your knot inside of me. I love it.” You knew you were blabbering, your words losing meaning as he ground his hips into you, his knot pushing insistently against your G-spot making you see stars and galaxies behind your closed eyes.

You felt the signs of an imminent orgasm, and you knew he did, too. “Are you gonna come? Are you gonna make a mess out of your pretty pussy? Did you ask for permission?” He growled and you felt another shoot of his cum inside of you.

Oh shit. “Can I- can I come?” You thought about it with the last functioning neuron inside your brain, the one that wasn’t being fucked out of you, yet. “Can I come, please?”

“That’s a good girl. Just because you asked nicely… You can.” You whined at his words, but he didn’t stop. “Come now,” he commanded. His voice was final and authoritative, and just like the toy you were, like the good little bunnydoll he liked to use… You did.

You came messily around him, a filthy symphony of juices as he ground his knot against your dripping wet pussy. It should make you embarrassed how wet you got, how messily you came… But you were far beyond it. You were ascending to a high so tall you didn’t know if you’d survive the fall. You were seeing stars and galaxies, and probably the origin of life as you came. You screamed until your throat was raw and no more sounds were coming out of your mouth.

He kept whispering sweet words against your neck, his fangs nipping at your skin and making you shiver over and over, aftershocks hitting your system like tiny earthquakes. “I told you not to run,” he whispered against your ear as he got up with your pussy still wrapped around his knot, bouncing you as he walked back to the cave.

Reminder that you can commission me (info here) or suscribe to my Patreon (info here). And that my second account is @whiskis

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC Prompt. Dead on main with priest Jason: Father Todd brings the Ghost King’s cult into the World of the Living.

So, when Jason dies and returns, the League of Assassins fails to hold him for long because spirits from Far Frozen pick him up after seeing teen through the Lazarus pit.

Jason quickly realizes that, well, they’re kinda obsessed with their cult of the Great One. And yeah the cult of the ruling Ghost King was very popular during the reign of the Pariah Dark but back then the rituals were carried out more out of fear. Now things are different. The population of the Ghost Zone has become interested in the activities of Frostbite and his loyal spirits because of an attempt to understand what kind of ghost the new ruler is and how best to thank and appease him. So Jason had no shortage of stories about the teenager's deeds.

~~~~

Jason to Frostbite: Well, you guys and your lil hobby are nice but I don't understand at all what's so cool about this guy, even if he defeated Pariah Dark and gets along with most of the Ancients…

Danny: *comes to visit Frostbite*, *slips and falls three times, sets the kitchen on fire in an attempt to make coffee then sheepishly smiles at Jason*.

Jason to Frostbite: ... Okay, Understandable, I Hope Danny Has a Nice Day and Some Sleep.

Tucker: Congratulations, you've acquired another Paulina. Great job. Danny: I'd rather he just asked me out instead of worshipping me. What the hell? I'm just a semi-ghost.

Tucker: Maybe things would be easier if you just gave him your phone number, you know? Danny: But he didn't ask. Tucker: Why didn't you ask? Danny: I couldn't! He's Robin himself, you know? Tucker: Well, good luck to you idiots to grow old alone near the altars of each other's name. Danny: Actually lil altar in his honor is not such a bad idea. Maybe this way he'll understand that I like him too.. Tucker: Danny, no!

~~~~

New in Gotham robbers break into Jason's place: Hey, father, God ordered you to share with your neighbors, so bring us some money or we.. Jason, who is talking on the phone with Danny: In fact, he just said that if you don't get out of here now, he will turn a blind eye to the fact that I will use my guns.

Danny*screams internally*: Oh Ancients, he's sooo cool!

Pandora: Honey, we're happy for you but stop flooding us with spam. You have already told 5 times during prayer how good his abs and chest look and how perfect Todd is when he reads aloud. We get it, okay? Clockwork: Well, I actually enjoy it. It's so much more interesting to watch while listening to the internal dialogue. Show must go on~ Danny: ...Get out of my mind! Nocturn: Thou shalt not take the name of the Lords in vain if you don't want to share with us, lil blob. So rude.

~~~Team Song: You Are My Religion · Firehouse~~~~

[erens-heart]

levi ackerman 𑄽ᧉྀི

summary: you share your first kiss with the captain.

cw: canon universe, fem!bodied reader, sad reader comforting a sad levi, mentions of war and death, sloppy kissing turns into an angry makeout session, hair pulling, etc, mdni <3

levi ackerman had an apparent disregard for what everybody thought of him; he broke the rules. he had the mettle to make decisions others couldn’t - wouldn’t dare - that’s what made him the perfect captain. he was distant, some would say harsh, and didn’t care to waste his breath spouting nosense about hope.

it wasn’t necessary, he thought, you would all end up dying on him anyway.

despite this, during the little time levi had to himself, he would devise strategies to ensure that you came back alive from each reconnaissance. he would beg erwin to reconsider the formation, so that you could ride next to him on the next mission, where he could keep you safe, although your chances of making it back unscathed were not minimal.

“i don’t give a shit, just make sure she’s next to me. she isn’t as strong as the others.”

he’d bluffed, knowing that you were next in line for his throne, you were nearly as strong as him. to no avail, levi tried to convince himself that was your only value to the survey corps.

you had taught levi more than a few things about softness, and of how to be patient. in the strictest of confidence, he swore an oath to protect you, and would conquer however many titans necessary to fulfil it.

“captain?” you knocked on his door, politely interrupting his concentration.

“what?” he answered curtly, the weight of yesterday’s failed expedition still resting on his shoulders. he glanced up from an empty tea cup, blinking away his exhaustion, “it’s you. i see. what do you need?”

your intentions weren’t obvious, you were off-duty and had no official business in levi’s quarters. he guessed that you needed him for something else. you hesitated, realising that you hadn’t rehearsed any of this before knocking on levi’s door. he frowned at you in exchange.

“i came to see if you were okay?” you said shyly.

“what?” he practically snorted and got up, turning his body away from you so that you wouldn’t see the surprise on his face.

you’d learned to pity your captain. his short body always looked so sore, new scars would appear on his hands, and go unnoticed. you’d once offered to attend to a cut on his knuckles but he’d told you to, quote, “fuck off and mind your own business.”

however, this wasn’t pity that you felt, this was unchartered territory. you were visiting him out of hours, you were worried. you’d been outside the walls, fought titans, and made it back alive, but insinuating that you cared about levi felt, somewhat, scarier.

levi, your captain, of all people.

you took a step deeper into his room, swallowing thickly. you’d always guessed it would be peaceful in his quarters; his room was clean and organised, and he had a candle burning at his bed side. it’s soft light flickered across your face.

“captain. i think you should take a break-“ you paused, treading carefully around the subject of work, “come for a walk with me?”

“what?” he deadpanned, looking up at you in a vain attempt to read you.

you were smiling, but you smiled at everyone, he certainly wasn’t an exception. you were being kind to him but, again, you were kind to everyone, even the assholes.

secondly, he couldn’t deduce what gave you the sudden courage to knock on his door and invite him on a walk - in the middle of the night.

“captain?” you prompted with a keen sparkle in your eyes, unsure what to make of his response, or lack thereof.

“did you have somewhere in mind?” he sighed, finally giving in and putting his cup down.

“somewhere hidden. can be our secret.” you joked, catching him off-guard again.

levi clenched his jaw, painfully aware of the implications should he get caught alone with you. he wouldn’t lose his job, no, it’d be worse than that - he would be teased for the rest of his life!

“sure.” he eventually agreed after pretending to think about it. he took a cloak from his hanger for warmth and, beneath that, he wore a shirt and tight slacks to hide the bruises he’d earned in battle.

he brushed past you, leading the way out, his small shadow dancing on the walls. you could tell that he wasn’t relaxed, he couldn’t relax, and held a permanently stiff posture. could you blame him? all that death on his shoulders, all those lives on the line.

having pulled your hood up to stay hidden, your smile drooped and you looked down at your feet as you followed behind him, wondering what you could possibly say. what could possibly make things better? or change the fate of humanity?

“so. you invited me out for a walk, and now the cat’s got your tongue?” levi asked, breaking the heavy silence.

you dragged your hand mindlessly along the cobblestone walls, and hummed. “there’s isn’t much to say, honestly. just thought it’d do you some good to get out.”

levi chuckled ungenuinely - it was honestly ironic.

“i go outside all the time.” he spoke as he glared at the tunnel ahead. “it’s just unfortunate i have to spend all of that time butchering titans.”

you frowned with him, hugging your cloak to your body you as you emerged from the tunnel onto the training grounds.

it was completely dark outside, save for the two sconces either side of the doorway you were stood in, and the stars twinkling down at you from the heavens. you watched levi’s cold breath make clouds as he exhaled, scanning the field.

“you can relax.” you mumbled, watching him scour the trees for signs of life. it was like he’d developed a reflex for hunting titans, it was instinctual now. he felt the constant prickle of anxiety, you felt it too.

you were so transfixed on levi’s scowl and the determination in his expression, that you had little time to appreciate what beauty was left in your world: the frost, the birds, the wind.

you tugged on levi’s cape, stealing his attention. his hard expression softened.

“sorry. been hard to relax lately.” he admitted, kicking the gravel with his boot.

“you’re the strongest man i know, levi.” your voice cracked,

“i don’t mean physically. i don’t understand how you get up every morning and face the world, and those titans. if- if i were you- i would have given up years ago.” you began messily, clutching your fist against your racing heart.

levi sighed, and cradled your face with his strong hands, furrowing his eyebrows as he peered into you. his hands were freezing, it was a surprise to you that they weren’t numb.

“shut up.” he scolded gently, and looked down at your glistening lips. “i would have given up too, if not for you.”

he brought you closer, snaking one of his thick arms around your waist. levi didn’t care anymore. without a second thought, he surrendered, he couldn’t bear not having you for a second longer, he was but sand in the hourglass of time.

he used his other hand to guide your chin forwards. he pressed his lips softly to yours and your heart stopped, but you pecked him back.

he kissed you so gently, carefully cherishing the taste of you, as if it were his last night on earth.

you kissed him back, holding onto his collar, whilst he made guttural sounds that lit a fire within you. you could feel all of his rough scars tickling your skin as you moaned weakly into his mouth.

crazed, he grabbed your hair from underneath your hood, pulling you into his taut body, so hard that you crashed into him. your hood fell down, revealling tears that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. he wouldn’t dare, but levi felt like crying too.

you kissed his open mouth, licking his tongue sloppily, letting him lick yours too. the way he kissed you gave you butterflies, it was more than what you’d ever imagined. your heart ached, your body tingled, your feelings felt uncontainable.

you smiled at him, sticking your tongue out for him to taste. levi groaned darkly and licked it, again and again, before grabbing a fistful of the hair on the back of your head. he tied his fingers into your hair and gripped it hard before smashing his mouth back into yours again.

you felt so alive you were sure you were going to die.

you pulled back for air after a while. levi looked at you with starving eyes, and followed you backwards into the wall. you parted your legs to make room for his knee, which he pushed up into the space between your legs. he caged your head between his two hands on the wall, gritting his teeth against your ear,

“captain…” you croaked.

“don’t you die on me. ever.” he grunted, pressing his forehead tiredly to the side of your head, breathing raggedly.

“i won’t.”

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Harem in Reverse

"You're soon to be 26, Your Royal Highness. You must put together your harem soon or risk being married off to whomever the regent chooses for you." You sigh, nodding in agreement. Choosing a direct husband would be against the rules, and frankly, you weren't interested in interviewing for the perfect man. Choosing many for their adherence to various qualities, though. That would be a good choice. "Shall I put forth a call for certain attributes? Strong arms? Large chest? Impressive intellect?"

"No, I want to review the troops this week. I will find my consorts among the best our nation has to offer." The advisor looks stunned.

"Your Royal Highness, those are rough men. They do not have the breeding or training to handle you gently as a consort should. They are-."

"Advisor Williams, I know what attributes I am looking for. Schedule me to review the best of the troops, then. If none catch my eye, then I will consider others." The advisor nods, frustrated at not being heeded, but knowing they must follow a direct order.

The following week, you are almost nervous while getting ready, the beginning of butterflies in your stomach. If you weren't so tired, you're sure it would be worse, but the night before was yet another attempt on your life. They are becoming more frequent and more violent now.

Sighing, you hurry to the courtyard where your mount, Rosebud, is waiting. A gift that you feel had been meant to be another threat on your life. The mount was no ordinary horse or pony. Instead, it was the largest draft mule you had ever seen. If you had treated him like a horse, you're sure the thing would have stomped within minutes. He was a vain creature who had to be sweet-talked and treated with utmost respect before he would agree to do much of anything. He was covered in whip and spur scars, telling anyone that he was difficult to force submission from, despite their best efforts. Not that you thought anyone could force an animal born of a mammoth jack donkey and a Shire horse to submit physically. You loved each and every scar, the signs of his stubborn nature on display for all to see.

"Hello, sweet boy." You greet him and let him snuffle you over, waving off the over eager stable hand. "May I ride you today? I am to inspect the troops." He blows a huff of air and turns his head away. You slide your hand along his proud neck and across his withers to the saddle. Checking it over, you deem it done well enough and climb on his back. Your legs spread wide across his broad barrel. Your advisors turn away, knowing that you will refuse their most strident pleas to ride sidesaddle.

"Let us inspect the troops." With that, the company is off at a quick walk to the parade grounds. Your group of advisors and the personal guard that you only marginally trust join the General and his entourage at the front of the formation. You strongly dislike the General. He is somehow the worst mix of ass kissing and condescending.

"The army is excited to be inspected this morning, Your Royal Highness." You barely manage to cover your snort. There is no way they are happy to be here standing in the sun to be inspected on your whim. You move from company to company, looking over the men and pointing out individuals to be inspected, but seeing none you would consider as consort. Reaching the special forces, the rabid dogs as your advisors refer to them, the General is incensed to see that the leader of one is missing.

"Where is the Captain? This is not an optional inspection!"

A man steps forward, "He was injured in a skirmish this week and is still confined to the hospital, General Argus." Looking over the group, you see several still sport bandages and healing abrasions. You nudge your mount closer, his ears perked forward in a match to your curiosity. The General apologizes to you for the disrespect of the men for not appearing but is cut off.

"Your Royal Highness. Escaping the hospital took longer than predicted. For that, I sincerely apologize." You turn, seeing a man limping toward the formation at a quick pace. This must be the Captain. As he falls in, you dismount your mule, resting your hand on his broad neck. Your personal guard hurriedly surrounds you, standing much too close. Rosebud takes exception to being crowded, ears flattening against his head. He strikes out like a snake. His teeth click just shy of the nearest man, who stumbles back yelling and unsheathes a sword. Without a thought, you draw your own ceremonial dagger.

"Touch one hair on Rosebud, and I will gut you." Everyone around you freezes before slowly backing away. "I will not be crowded by your incompetent forms when I am here to inspect the troops." They retreat from your anger, not wanting to risk you calling for their death. Rosebud drops his head, relaxing, and you absentmindedly rub his long ear the way he loves. His lip twitches and his eyes half close for a moment before he pulls away. You step forward, and Rosebud matches your pace, keeping his shoulder just behind yours. It took months to build up a relationship with him, and now he is putty in your hands most days.

An advisor tries to signal you to stay back, but you ignore them, your eyes on the men, looking for the best of them. You memorize the name of the Captain and another likely candidate, signaling Advisor Williams to your side. He groans but carefully walks to you, eyes locked on the increased alertness of Rosebud.

"I will have an audience with this Captain Price and Colonel König. As soon as the men are dismissed. In private." You walk forward and give a cursory inspection to the man who had spoken on the Captain's behalf. His uniform is impeccable, you are happy to see. You don't want them punished on your behalf. The smirk on his face beneath his mask sends a thrill through you. Another man who is not cowed by your station. That is important in advisors. Lieutenant Riley, his uniform says. You nod and mount Rosebud again, rejoining the pack of advisors to inspect the remaining troops. No others catch your eye.

Walking into your State room, you signal for everyone except the two soldiers to leave. While unusual, they are compelled to do so by your haughty glares and Advisor Williams guiding them away, barring the doors behind him and standing guard. Sitting in your throne, you drag your eyes over the men. Colonel König is wearing his customary face covering, and Captain Price has the cover he is well-known for in his hands.

"I have a proposal for you both that I want you to carefully consider. This proposal will not be spoken of again if you decline and it will not leave this room." The men perk up, and you see heat in their eyes as they consider one of the possibilities of your words. "I need advisors who are not advisors." That throws them off, and you see the Colonel shift uneasily. "These advisors would be the closest of any man or woman to me. They would teach and protect me with their very lives. My life is under threat and has been since the King and Queen died, my uncle taking over as Regent. I need advisors who will help me oust him and take my rightful place on the throne without contest and without raising his suspicions. Thus, I need men who will join my harem." You pause, savoring the way their faces change as they process this.

"Your Royal Highness, are you asking us to find you men to join your harem? That is most unusual, but we will do our best." You shake your head at Captain Price.

"Yes, but not in the way you are thinking. I am asking the two of you to join my harem and to advise me on the best men to round out such a harem. To be advisors and leaders in removing the despot from his fake throne. To be my lovers, spoiled in every way and to guard me from all attempts on my life. I want you both, and I trust you to choose others and to bring them to me for approval. If you decline this position, we shall never speak on it again."

"Yes, I would be honored to be chosen for your harem, Your Royal Highness." Colonel König does not hesitate to agree. He feels he has loved you from afar for years, and this is an opportunity he will not squander.

"I would be as well, Your Royal Highness." Captain Price is confident that declining now would be a mistake, and he is not a man prone to mistakes. "I have a few men in mind that would be good additions. They are a bit of a package deal." You nod, expecting as much.

"Their names?"

"John MacTavish, Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick, Your Royal Highness."

"I have two in mind that would be good choices as well. Hiro Watanabe and Kim Hong-jin. They are foreign, but good, loyal and strong men, Your Royal Highness."

The smile you bestow them with is almost a surprise to the men. "Then, I wish for you to gather your men and their belongings. You will join me tonight, my consorts."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness." The men bow and leave, stunned at the way this meeting has gone. You order Advisor Williams to prepare the harem quarters and pack your own belongings secretly. It would be folly to live apart from the men who will be your new private guard and you would be lying if you weren't excited to see under those perfectly done uniforms.

[otaku553]

Straw hat women redesigns :) I was trying to doodle some of the crew and came to the realization that I just Could Not with Nami so I wanted to play around with it a little bit

Some more design notes below:

Nami’s design actually went a lot smoother for me than Robin’s! I think canon post timeskip Nami is a very low bar. While you can argue that to some extent Nami being vain and seductive is part of her character, I do feel that there are many more integral parts of her character that can be highlighted in her design, namely map making and her combat. Though not one of the stronger straw hats, Nami does seem to be well practiced with her staff outside of its use for weather manipulation, and I think her being a physical combatant, even slightly, can be better reflected with more loose clothing for better mobility.

For her mapmaking, I wanted her to have constant easy access to her tools and to information about the locale, so around her waist she has one large pouch at the back for books and scrolls and maps in progress and one small pouch to the side for writing utensils and measurement tools. As backup she also has 2 pens in her bun, which also act as pins for keeping her hair up if she ever needs to move a lot.

I’m not sure how clearly it shows up in the notes, but Nami’s shoe soles are also made from whatever artificial cloud material makes up the weather island she stayed on during the timeskip, so that it both pads her steps to make them soundless and bounces for better mobility. The shoes are naturally shaped like heels but without the actual heel, since she tends to move around on tiptoes anyways- a nod to her epithet as cat burglar and her past as a thief.

I made her shoulders a bit broader because I think they probably get a lot of exercise with her staff, and changed out the bikini top for a more supportive chest wrap, with a loose tank over it for breathability. The compression socks and sleeve are more stylistic than anything, since I like layers, but they might come in handy for her if she spends extended amounts of time sitting down making maps for the crew.

Robin’s was a bit more difficult for me to figure out, and I might go back and revisit it at some point. For Nami, it was a bit easier to imagine what would pair well with her combat methods and her needs as a mapmaker, but with Robin, she’s an academic who fights almost completely hands off, without a specific weapon to her name. Because her strength lies mostly in her devil fruit, she has a bit more room for style over functionality, but I also still wanted her to have something that made sense with what she was. I don’t really think I succeeded in that regard, but it’s also hard to convey what she does visually— she’s more of like a professor than a field archaeologist I think.

I really really enjoy her cowboy hat but I didn’t think it would match with the rest of the outfit so I switched it out for a wider brimmed hat and kept the orange sunglasses on it, as a nod to the revolutionaries with the combination of headwear and eyewear. She deserves a trench coat. I don’t make the rules. And the rest of the fit mostly came down to things I think I would enjoy wearing, haha

The trench coat is partially a nod to the scholars of ohara, who seem to wear white coats like lab coats in some screenshots of robin’s backstory. I think also the reading glasses help to make her seem a bit more academic, but aren’t prominent enough to leave a strong impression. All in all I do wish robin’s design had more functionality in it but I also think that robin is a character who probably enjoys dressing up nicely like this, especially in the comfort and stability of the straw hats.

[livlaughloveluke]

ᡣ𐭩 𝗯𝗲𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱

daughter of aphrodite! reader x luke castellan 💘

IN WHICH.. luke would carry the world on his shoulders for the approval of your mother

warning! this fic contains- like two cuss words // feminine reader // one slight reference to sex (lukes a virgin lolol) // not proofread (yet)

🎧- bewitched by laufey

3.3k

You had always been the favorite of your mother, Aphrodite. With the way she frequently delivered extravagant gifts, ranging from beauty supplies to carefully crafted swords, it was clear you were granted special treatment from the typically vain goddess. Others grew envious of your glorious relationship, watching from afar as you had yet another conversation with her. 

The unfortunate truth was that you worked your ass off to receive a fraction of affection from your mother. Waking up at the crack of dawn to get ready, biting your tongue as others gossiped about you, and training hours per day were just some of the cruel circumstances you had to endure in order to keep up your facade. Everything about you had to be seemingly perfect, which is hard to maintain when living in such harsh conditions.

Your ethereal beauty and charming personality gained the attention of many, making Aphrodite proud. However, no matter how many demigods asked you out, they were all politely declined. This wasn’t a personal choice, but instead one forcefully implemented by your mom. 

Every camper knew of the strange rule the goddess had set for you. Not one soul would be allowed to take you on a date without her approval. Unfortunately for you, she was extremely strict and harsh when choosing. It was odd that the ruler of love would prevent her dearest kin from experiencing the joys of having a partner, but the gods did little with rationality.

During your weekly prayer one evening, you found yourself pondering why Aphrodite seemed to reject all suitors. Seeking answers, you broached the subject with her. In response, Aphrodite professed a desire for nothing but the best for you, her words punctuated by the subtle shifts in her mood. Intrigued by her cryptic response, you couldn't help but remain curious, uncertain whether she spoke the truth or spun another detailed tale.

Among the crowd of diligent campers who showered you with attention, there remained one who truly stood out. Luke Castellan, the offspring of Hermes, had harbored a profound admiration for you from the moment of your arrival. While others were fixated solely on your captivating exterior, he found himself drawn to the depths of your enchanting personality. Your passionate expression for the things that ignited your soul—be it delving into the mysteries of ancient artworks or nurturing the vibrant flower fields—held him spellbound.

One day, the immense ache in his lovelorn heart became too agonizing to bear. As the sun awoke from its slumber and you elegantly devoured a ripe pear, he asked you to follow him into the lush forest. Despite the slightly sketchy request, you obliged, trusting Luke with your whole heart.

"I hate to sound blunt, but why are we here again?" You queried, batting away pesky flies and dodging branches that lunged out intrusively.

"I'm determined to take you out," he proclaimed, his voice brimming with confidence, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of doubt creep in as you cringed with uncertainty.

“Luke, you know how my mom feels-“ 

“Yeah, I know how your mom feels. But how do you feel?” He blurted, his coffee brown eyes staring deep into yours, and for a moment, you saw the deepest part of him that was hidden from the rest of the world. 

“What’d mean?” You questioned him, trying to wrap your head around his statement, like it was a foreign concept for someone to ask how you perceived the situation.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” Luke whispered.

“I’d love to, but she-“ His response was accompanied by a light shake of his head, his voice gaining intensity as he delivered his next sentence with austerity.

“Tell me the truth. If Aphrodite wasn’t your mother, would you date me?”

Silence flooded the woods; it seemed even the birds stopped singing to hear your much-awaited response. 

“Yes, I would.” You said it honestly, twiddling with your hands out of nervousness for your mother’s reaction.

“Okay then. I have a plan; don’t worry.” Luke interlocked your fingers, gently dragging you back to the pavilion with a grin plastered across his face.

As the day unfolded in its familiar rhythm, there was an intriguing twist: you found yourself stealing glances at Luke more frequently, your fondness for him blossoming rapidly. Anticipation brewed as you prayed for the success of whatever scheme Luke had concocted. Yet, the nagging suspicion of your mom’s disapproval gnawed at you, even if Luke was nicknamed the camp's "golden boy."

As dusk approached and dinner was served, the absence of Luke grasped your attention. The atmosphere lacked the presence of a couple other different Hermes offspring, too; the usual crowd at the wooden picnic tables was now missing. Brushing aside budding concerns, you settled beside your siblings, concealing any anxieties that threatened your composure.

You would have thought Hades took a visit to Cabin 11 with the way everyone was scrambling around. Dozens of clothes littered the floor, the room looking as if a freight train plowed through. Luke was in the center of the mess, eyebrows furrowed as he carefully examined his outfit options.

“A suit is definitely too much, right? I mean, I think it would be weird to go completely dressed out.” He started, with Chris standing next to him as they both pondered.

“Yeah, yeah. Ditch the suit.” His friend replied, tossing the crisp attire back into the closet. 

“So do I wear the camp shirt or something else?” Luke interrogated the rest of the children.

“Camp shirt.” Chris said, but another older female camper chimed in.

“Obviously not. It’s a disgusting neon orange.” She declared, rolling her eyes.

“I think it makes him look devoted to the camp.” Chris defended.

“Oh please, it washes him out. Try this navy blue top.” The Hermes girl tossed a crinkled polo at him, turning away as he slipped the shirt on.

Luke looked in the mirror, pleased with his choice. All of his peers stared at him in judgment before coming to the conclusion that the deep blue suited him.

“Told you. Now hurry up. You can’t miss dinner.” She uttered, shooing him out of the packed cabin. 

All eyes were focused on him as he walked to supper since he was out of the appropriate attire. He snagged his dinner, rushing to sit next to you. 

“Cute shirt. A little late though; dinner's almost over.” You complimented, and the rest of your fashion-inclined siblings nodded in agreement. Luke felt his cheeks flush from your words and because of the overwhelming stares provided by campers.

“Thank you. I’m not really hungry anyway." He responded, which wasn’t a complete lie. His stomach was doing cartwheels as he counted down the minutes until the burnt offerings. As soon as the sound echoed through the air, he practically sprinted to be the first.

He slid almost all his food into the metal tin can (which he would definitely miss later that night when he went to bed hungry) and, with shaky hands, lit the dinner. The aroma of multiple dishes mixed into one and then set on fire was putrid, but luckily for Luke, that’s just what he needed to catch the attention of Aphrodite.

As she heard the pleads of the boy, who was begging for a conversation, and smelled the smoke, it was enough to send her spiraling down onto Earth. She was gorgeous—ten times prettier than any image Luke could have pictured in his head.

“I'm Luke Castellan.” He stumbled out nervously, but recollected and gathered his thoughts.

“I want to date your daughter, Y/N.” He declared, noticing the way the goddess looked away with anger. 

“And before you say anything,” he continued, “I swear I have the best intentions.” 

Aphrodite narrowed her eyes, inspecting him.

“I don’t know. Many boys just like you have claimed the same.” She spoke to him with such clarity.

“It’s different; I can promise you that. I’m a good kid.” He pleaded, growing desperate as he swallowed.

“You aren’t sounding much different than the children before you.” She replied, and Luke could tell she was about to walk away, so he did what he thought was best and blurted out what came to mind.

“I’ve never smoked, I pray to the gods every night, and to be honest, I rarely step foot out of camp. I’m healthy, I take care of myself, and I’m the best swordsman in camp—at least that’s what everyone says. I’m still a virgin, and I’ve never even glanced at another girl in any romantic way because the only one I have eyes for is your daughter. Please, ma’am.”

Aphrodite's eyebrows lifted, and her mouth agape at his sudden speil. She had to admit that it was quite impressive.

“Hm, I suppose you have made a compelling argument. I’ll let you take her out on one date, but only if it goes well will you be allowed to see her again. And she must approve of you.”

Luke smiled at her, letting out heavy breaths he didn't even know he was holding on to. 

“Thank you so much. I can assure you, you won’t regret it.” He thanked the goddess, who just shrugged and left him in the dark forest. Too thrilled to care, he joyfully jogged back to the cabins, where his bunkmates patiently waited.

He shoved his way inside, panting, excitement bubbling within him. The air in the cabin seemed to crackle with anticipation as everyone turned their attention toward him, their eyes lit with curiosity, waiting for him to spill the details of what had transpired.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, unable to contain the joy that surged through him. Instantly, the air was filled with the sound of cheers and joyous squeals, his friends erupting into a wave of celebratory exclamations.

“Well, sorta. As long as the first date goes okay,” Luke added, his enthusiasm slightly dampening as he lowered his head, a hint of uncertainty tainting the original exhilaration of his announcement. The cabin fell into a sudden hush, a sense of disappointment crushing the once great news. 

“Then we better get to planning,” Chris interjected, lighting a spark of hope. Everyone returned to their primary delirium, huddling together to craft the picture perfect night.

Campers threw out ideas for the date on the spot, ranging from the location to his preferred mannerisms. His sisters used their experiences with being a women to instruct him on how to act, telling him what was considered acceptable and what to avoid. The rest of his siblings and friends scoped out the land, deciding on the perfect site.

After enduring the lengthy schooling, Luke stole a fleeting moment away from his lesson, his heart set on sharing the newfound momentous revelation with you. The bonfire raged on, campers swarming around it like hungry sharks. Old friendships were being rekindled, and new bonds were forming. Admits the social circle stood you, who laughed as you spoke to the Apollo kids.

With a grin that illuminated his features, Luke observed you from a distance, captivated by the infectious positivity that radiated from you. As you strayed away from the chaotic crowd, your eyes met his. His feet propelled him forward, drawing him towards you. 

“Hey!” you greeted, your voice filled with genuine excitement as he approached.

“Hey! Guess what?” Luke's words tumbled out in a rush, his eagerness present as he awaited your reaction.

“What’s up?” you inquired, intrigued by his anxious body language.

“Your mom said yes,” Luke revealed, his expression a mix of anticipation and restrained enthusiasm.

“What?” you gasped, disbelief coloring your features before giving way to unbridled joy.

“She said yes!” Luke exclaimed, the thrill evident in his voice.

Excitement flourished within you, causing you to leap into his arms, angelic laughter filling the atmosphere as he lifted you up and spun you around. The cutesy scene hooked the attention of others, whispers beginning to travel.

Like a raging wildfire, Luke's announcement spread swiftly through the crowd, resonating with everyone within earshot. Within minutes, the joyous information spread through the gathering. Some were jealous, spreading rumors the moment they heard them, and some were just happy for the two.

Neither of you cared about the whispers and gossiping of those around you, their chatter fading into the background as you were enveloped in his warm embrace. The world seemed to melt away as he gently set you down, his touch lingering on your skin.

As you looked up into his eyes, time seemed to stand still, and the intensity of your love was reflected in the depths of his gaze. With each beat of your heart, you felt a surge of affection wash over you, your gaze softening as you looked upon him with adoration. There, in the depths of his eyes, you found comfort, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside.

"7 o'clock okay for tomorrow?" Luke's voice broke through the haze, jolting you back to the present moment. His words sent a tingle of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Mhm," you murmured in response, your mind still lingering on the warmth of his touch, until a daughter of Demeter called you over, disrupting the spell cast by Luke. As you tore yourself away, a shiver raced down your spine, the absence of his soothing hands leaving you feeling strangely hollow.

In the darkness of the night, neither of you seemed able to sleep with the thought of each other prominent in your minds. Remembering all of the special moments you shared, even before today, summoned a mixture of emotions. If this date didn’t go according to plan, the memories would be permanently lost, drowned out by new experiences.

Eventually, Hypnos blessed you with a night’s rest, and before you knew it, it was 6 p.m., an hour before the long-awaited gathering with Luke. Your siblings were currently helping you get ready in the vast space that was the Aphrodite cabin.

"Do you know where he's taking you?" Urged your closest sister, her fingers deftly working through your hair as she leaned in.

Your heart fluttered with nervous excitement as you met her gaze in the mirror, uncertainty dancing in your eyes. "No, not really," you admitted with a sigh, feeling a knot of anticipation coiling in the pit of your stomach as you nervously tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth.

"Oh gods!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and determination as she dropped the task of defining your hair, her attention now fully focused on the impending dilemma. With a sense of urgency, she hurriedly crossed the room to her bustling closet, the sound of fabric rustling filling the air as she searched for the perfect outfit.

You watched her with amusement, as she rummaged through her collection.

With a triumphant exclamation, she emerged from the depths of her closet, a victorious smile gracing her lips as she presented you with a selection of carefully curated outfits. "I'm sure we can find something that'll work," she declared with confidence, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she began to lay out the options before you.

She presented you with a breathtaking spring dress, its delicate fabric decorated with teensy flowers. You ran your fingers over the dainty material, embracing its beauty.

"It's perfect," you breathed in awe, your voice barely above a whisper, as you marveled at the garment.

"I know, right!" she exclaimed, her excitement infectious as she twirled around in delight. "This is so exciting! Your first date!" she continued, her words bubbling with enthusiasm as she continued to fuss over your appearance.

You attempted to summon a smile, but despite your best efforts, the flicker of unease in your eyes did not go unnoticed by your sister.  She gently squeezed your hand, a silent gesture of support and reassurance.

"What's wrong?" She questioned you softly, her hands pausing in their task of arranging your hair as she turned to look at you through the expansive vanity mirror.

"It's nothing, really. Just... anxious, I guess," you replied, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to find the right words to express the complexity of your thoughts.

"Hey, it'll go great. And if not, there's a long line of suitors out there waiting for you," she reassured you, her voice filled with warmth and understanding, "so I'm sure Mom would approve of at least one of them."

"But I don't want it to be them," you confessed, your voice shaky as you admitted your true feelings. "I want it to be Luke."

She slightly frowned, grabbing your head and leaning into you. You shut your eyes to block the tears, discovering a place of love in her arms. A sudden knock on the wood door interrupted the warmth of silence.

She hopped up with eager anticipation, practically skipping to the door to greet Luke. As she opened it, you seized the opportunity to slip into the closet and change into the dress she had requested.

Luke stood on the doorstep, his hands fidgeting with a bouquet of ethereal flowers, their petals shimmering in the sunlight. A hint of uncertainty flickered in his eyes as he glanced around, searching for you.

"Uh, is Y/N here?" he asked, his voice laced with nervousness as he scratched the back of his head.

"Yes, she is," your friend replied, her tone firm, her gaze locking onto Luke's with determination. "But before you go any further, I need to warn you. You must take excellent care of her, no matter what. Because if you don't, I'll come find you personally."

“I promise.” He stuck out his pinky, interlocking it with hers to signify an agreement he would uphold. Stepping outside the cramped enclosure, you checked your reflection and headed towards the door. 

"Hi!" you exclaimed, your voice ringing out into the air, breaking through the awkward tension that had settled between the two of them. Luke's shoulders visibly relaxed as he turned to face you, a sigh of relief escaping his lips upon noticing your presence.

"Hey." He whispered softly, capturing in the sight of you standing before him, your captivating looks leaving him momentarily speechless. You smiled, threading your arm between his and escaping the cabin. 

"I brought you these." Luke stated, his voice tinged with admiration as he handed you the colorful floral arrangement. You accepted the bouquet with a grateful smile, the fragrance of the flowers filling the air as you gently wafted them in your hand.

"Thank you," you replied sincerely, touched by his thoughtful gesture, "they're beautiful."

Lost in conversation, you continued hiking together, the winding path leading you deeper into the heart of the forest.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke had a destination in mind, his steps purposeful as he guided you along the trail . The scenery around you shifted, the dense foliage giving way to a small deserted landscape.

Atop the grassy bank, a thick picnic blanket lay spread out, its vibrant colors contrasting beautifully with the lush greenery that surrounded it. An assortment of fruits and treats adorned the blanket, ranging from juicy strawberries to decadent chocolates.

As you settled onto the blanket, the soft fabric cushioning your every movement, you couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking scenery that unfolded before you. Stretching out into the distance was the icy blue lake, its surface shimmering in the golden light of the sun, which peeked over the horizon as if to witness the magic of the moment.

As the minutes flew by, the loud croaking of cicadas immersed and the sky gradually transformed into a canvas of twinkling stars.

Wrapped in Luke's arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the worries and uncertainties of the day melting away.

In that moment, as you lay together under the vast starlit sky, you felt a profound connection to Luke. A realization that filled you with a sense of joy and contentment, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Whether your mom approved of your relationship or not (spoiler alert: she did), it didn't matter. What mattered was that you were with Luke, and in his arms, protected from the surrounding cruel world.

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

[dalekofchaos]

Doctor Doom gets ruined AND WHITEWASHED AGAIN!

4 attempts to get Doctor Doom right

4

And we STILL can’t get this right

A master of magic and science. A man who rivals Doctor Strange and Reed Richards as the most powerful sorcerer and the smartest man alive. He rules an entire country with an army of Doombots. Considered to be one of the greatest Marvel villains. And they still can't get him right. They have to make him a fucking Tony Stark variant. Tony Stark is not Victor Von Doom and Doom is above Tony Stark.

Victor wearing the mask always is integral to his appeal and aura like Vader's mask. It not only hides his vain scars he caused due to his failures, but it closes him off from humanity and makes him believe he’s beyond it.

As far as I'm concerned Marvel Ultimate Alliance and EMH are the only good adaptations of Doom

Doctor Doom being a romani man with a background CENTERING his family's racial persecution. with his ethnicity at the forefront of his motivations and his tragedy. and they really just brought back Robert Downey Jr.

Being romani is INTEGRAL to doom’s character and without that he’s not doom. he NEEDS to be romani and played by a romani character. full stop, don't believe me? Read Book Of Dooms.

Since 1964 Victor von Doom has been established as a Romani character. His childhood was filled with antiziganism and his parents deaths were caused by it. This later led him to become Doctor Doom and overthrow the Latverian government to protect his people

I am so fucking sick and tired of this whitewashing bullshit and the ethnoerasure of Marvel characters.

The Maximoff Twins, The Ancient One, Moon Knight and now fucking Doom.

God fucking forbid an actual Romani actor PLAYS A ROMANI CHARACTER.

But no they pulled another fucking multiverse shit all so RDJ could return and it all feels like blackface from Tropic Thunder

I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT ABOUT ANTHONY STARK FROM EARTH-11029 OR INFAMOUS IRON MAN

If you wanted evil Iron Man so fucking bad, why didn't you just do Superior Iron Man?

The LAZIEST, DUMBEST, most CONTRIVED BULLSHIT casting ever, Marvel continues to not beat the whitewashing allegations. Doctor Doom deserved better.

Romani actor Charlie Clapman was right fucking there AND HE ENDORSED IT!

I'd even suggest Romani actor Óscar Jaenada as Doom. Again another Roma actor who's actively interested in playing Doom

And you know what? As bad as the 1994 movie was, Joseph Culp the first actor to play Doom in the Fantastic Four (1994) movie by Oley Sassone & Richard Corman. Culp was also white but he very clearly cared for the comics background of Victor von Doom

and you also know damn well they're going to erase everything about Magneto too that makes him who he is… which is his entire fucking background. how horrible of a person do you have to be to repeatedly disrespect the minorities who created these stories?

Doctor Doom is Roma Romani. He is not white. The MCU loves to whitewash its Roma and Jewish characters and it’s time we called them out for it. Dr Doom is not a white man, he is Roma!

They will never nail down the complexity of Victor Von Doom

Every year Doom goes to hell to fight Mephisto to rescue the soul of his mother. He finally won her soul with the help of Doctor Strange only for her to reject him.

No evil Stark replicant will ever fucking match the complexity of Victor Von Doom.

I don't care if this is a one time thing for RDJ. They specifically chose to do this when the fans were begging for a fucking Romani actor. It also doesn't fucking help that Marvel has erased nearly EVERY fucking ethnic character has been whitewashed.

Scarlet Witch & Quicksilver: Erased Romani heritage and whitewashed. Moon Knight & Wiccan: Casted non-Jewish actors. Sabra: Featured in anything at all, and actress is an IDF soldier to make matters worse.

The MCU is full of ethnic erasure, military propaganda & racism. it’s disgusting this is continuing with Dr Doom’s casting. remember to continue to boycott marvel, because of the genocide they support by casting an iof solider to play a character from the zionist terrorist occupation

Dr Doom is one of those villains that it should be IMPOSSIBLE to fuck up but wasting him on a cheap Iron Man nostalgia casting pop might be the way

[covenofagatha]

If you're still taking requests I'd love to suggest Agatha x fem reader smut with mutual maturation and Agatha guiding inexperienced reader through dry humping after finding out

It took me awhile to figure out what I wanted to do for this story, but a lightbulb clicked today and it was all I could think about so I really hope everyone likes it!

Forgive me, Father

After feeling something that you shouldn't have, you go to confession and Father Agatha helps you repent

Word count: 1700+

Warnings: confessional booth sex, father kink (?), religious imagery, masturbation, thigh riding, slight dubcon, reader is completely innocent and inexperienced and thinks any kind of sex is a sin, corrupt priest agatha, so sacrilegious lol

You slide into the confessional booth, stomach twisting and palms sweating. 

You were practically a regular there, always looking to assuage your guilt about the bad things you did: accidentally saying the Lord’s name in vain, getting too angry when your brother turned off the television and snapping at him, harboring a grudge against a stranger who cut you off while driving. 

You strived more than anything to be a good girl, and when you did something bad, it ate you alive. 

Except this time, it wasn’t just a small sin. 

No, it was much worse than anything you had confessed about earlier. 

The door to the conjoining part of the booth opens and you hear someone sit down. 

“What is the matter, my child?” The priest says, and you’re surprised to hear a woman’s voice. You didn’t know women could become priests, nor that your parish had one. 

You do the sign of the cross and say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession.”

“What do you have to confess?” 

You take a deep breath, wiping your hands on your legs to try and dry them off. “Last night, I was at a friend’s house reading Scripture and her older sister was watching a movie in the other room. When I went to the bathroom, I saw a glimpse of it.” 

You stop talking, afraid of the next part. The priest makes a sound to urge you on. 

“I don’t know what movie it was, but there were two women kissing,” you tell her, shuddering. “Which I know is a sin, but then I felt something inside me.” 

“What did you feel, child?” She asks. You can hear her breathing closer to the partition like she’s leaning towards you. 

Tears prick your eyes. “I felt, um, like this heat in my stomach? And almost like I was empty? When I went to the bathroom, there was a wetness in my underwear.” 

The priest thinks for a second and then tuts. “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, shame bubbling up. “But it was wrong, and I know that. I’m sorry, Father! What is my penance?” 

“There is something that can be done when you feel like that, you know,” she says slyly, her voice getting low and thick with something, and your heart stutters. 

Surely she can’t be talking about–

“Have you ever touched yourself?” She asks. 

“No, of course not!” You exclaim indignantly. “Masturbation is a sin. You can only be touched down there by your husband.” It’s the same words you’ve heard your entire life. 

“I bet you didn’t know that those rules don’t apply to priests,” she says and your brows furrow in confusion. “Since we are not allowed to marry.” 

You swallow. “Really?” Curiosity is getting the better of you and you’re starting to feel warm. You can almost hear her nodding her head. 

“Really. And as a priest, I’m giving you permission to try. It will make you feel good and relieve the tension you feel.” 

Your heart skips a beat and you can feel flickers of heat in your stomach. But you shake your head in frustration. “I don’t know how to,” you admit. 

“Why don’t you come over here and I’ll help you?” She says, sounding like a cat who just got the cream. Feeling better, you step out of your side and into hers. 

It’s a tight fit, and through the dimly lit space, you get your first look at the priest you’ve been talking to and your mouth parts. 

Her dark, curly hair frames her face and falls down past her breasts. Her striking blue eyes, although you can see barely any of the cerulean color with how large her pupils are, seem to pierce through your soul. They rake up and down your body, taking in your jean shorts and Youth Group t-shirt from years ago.

You can feel your pulse somewhere between your legs and it’s like the feeling from last night, only amplified. 

“Please, Father,” you beg, although not sure what you’re asking for. She smirks and motions for you to take a step closer. 

“Why don’t you get on your knees, angel? Like you do when you pray.”

You obey and wince at the cold tile. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you lay your palms face up on your thighs and look at her. 

She bites her lip at the sight, something flashing in her eyes. “Very good. Now, unbutton your jeans and slide a hand inside.” 

Something stops you, a feeling nagging inside your brain. You’re still not convinced that this isn’t a sin, and she sees your hesitation. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll show you what to do,” she says, and she begins pulling up her robes. Your fingers twitch against your thighs and the feeling inside you grows. Once they’re around her waist, she moves her underwear to the side to reveal her private parts to you. 

“Is it supposed to be that wet?” You question, absolutely enraptured by what she looks like. You’ve never even really examined your own that closely, but she has two flaps of skin that look like they’re practically matted together with wetness and she’s glistening. Jesus Christ himself could come down to earth right now and you wouldn’t even care. 

She nods and runs a hand through, parting her folds and letting you see more of her. 

“Yes, if you’re this wet, that means your pussy is ready,” she says and you blush at the vulgar word. “And this up here-” She cuts off to circle her finger on something at the top of her pussy. “-is your clit. This is what you want to focus on.” 

She rubs herself more and her head slightly drops back with a moan. It’s like your body is being consumed with hellfire. 

This priest is both the apple and the snake in the Garden of Eden, and you are the poor mortal fool about to give into temptation and sin. 

“That feeling inside you?” She whispers, and your eyes lock on hers, waiting for the answer to salvation. “This is how you get rid of it.” 

She slides a finger into herself and groans louder and you can’t resist unbuttoning your shorts and cupping yourself through your underwear. 

“Father…” You rasp, hesitating because you realize you don’t know her name. 

“Agatha,” she says, moving in and out. “Play with your clit, angel. Rub it.” 

You struggle to find it, but when you do, your entire body jerks with pleasure. She chuckles above you and you’re reminded of the stained glass windows in the parish of disciples kneeling at the altar before Jesus.

Is that what the two of you look like right now?

Like you’re revering Father Agatha?

That’s what it feels like. 

You can feel how wet you’ve gotten through your underwear and you squirm at the stickiness. You keep stroking that special spot, watching the priest do the same, but it feels like you just need more. The blaze inside you is only growing more and you feel like you need relief or you’ll die.

“Father Agatha,” you whine and you don’t miss how her hips buck. “I can’t do it by myself, I need help. It’s only getting worse.” 

She pouts. “Of course it is, angel. That means it’s working. Although, if you really want to feel good, why don’t you let me guide you?” 

You stiffen involuntarily, even though your body is screaming to let her. “If you touch me there, I’ll be impure.” 

She thinks hard for a minute, tapping her finger to her lip and then her face lights up. “I won’t touch you there, then.” 

You frown and she beckons you up. She parts her legs and pats one of them. You stare at her, completely confused as to what she wants you to do.

“Take off your shorts and sit on my thigh with your underwear. We won’t be touching and it won’t be a sin.”

You can’t find any holes in that logic, so you obey and you let out a gasp when you drop your pussy right onto her leg. You moan. Having a strong muscle to move against makes the pleasure so much more intense and you rut against it frantically. 

“There you go, angel. Make yourself feel good,” she encourages, putting her hands on your hips to guide you down harder. Each drag of your clit against her skin, even through your wet fabric, pulls a sound out of your mouth. 

“Father, please, so good, more,” you pant. 

You shall not make false idols. You have definitely broken that commandment as you have fully given yourself over to worshipping this woman. 

“Oh, my God, please.”

You shall not take the Lord’s name in vain. There’s another one. 

“Father Agatha, something’s happening to me!” Heat and tension are rising and twisting and building and making you so tense that you think you’re about to snap. 

She smirks and digs her fingernails into your hips to move you faster. “Let go, angel. That’s the best part.” 

You remember hearing the story of Noah’s ark in nursery school. How God warned him of a flood and to gather two of every animal before he overflowed the earth. 

You feel that flood now in your body, except it’s pleasure rushing through your veins, like a dam has broken. 

Your head slumps onto her shoulder. “What was that?” 

“That was an orgasm,” she says, sounding very proud of herself. “Reproduction isn’t the only reason people have sex.” 

Your face turns red. “But – no, we didn’t – that wasn’t sex, I couldn’t have had one of those, I’m not married!” 

Your protests only make her grin more and she brushes a piece of hair from your sweaty face. “Oh, you’re so innocent, angel. I’m a priest, remember? The rules are different for us. And if you’re still feeling guilty, do eight Hail Mary’s.” 

You nod, mind reeling from that. You will certainly have to pray later. But there’s something else you can’t stop thinking about. “But what if that feeling comes back?”

She smirks and there’s a glint in your eye that both makes you want more and terrifies you. “Then you come back for more confessions until we can get rid of all those dirty thoughts.” 

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If we like, I have an idea for a part 2 that lines up with another request