#and it actually makes me Not want to draw them out of spite

[bumblingbabooshka]

Oh, so we're all about 'I love my wife - I'd kill for my wife' guys here until it's Stonn?? My man Big Pebble????? [Patreon | Commissions]

[miumiins]

When do you plan to draw Gaius x Robin again ?\>////</

mahalo 🤗

[mohntilyet]

i’m having illario dellamorte thoughts. what if instead of knowingly betraying lucanis he did it like, unknowingly. idk how this would work but i’m intrigued by what it gives us. illario ‘i accidentally caused my cousin’s death & can never tell anyone’ dellamorte. genuinely grieving. blaming himself. does he take advantage of the year before lucanis comes back?? does caterina still ignore him the whole time?? how different is the canon plotline once rook shows up with lucanis post-rescue…..

anyways i would love your thoughts!!

95% of what i do with illario operates on the idea that he is frighteningly competent so you can see why the way the crows plotline plays out in the game might frustrate me. it’s also this reason why i don’t actually think too much about “illario got lucanis killed, but didn’t mean to do it”, because i like the idea that everything illario does in his life is planned to the second and that he’s too well trained to mess up this badly, if that makes sense. with that being said. 5% of my brain power does sometimes go towards “and what if he just sucked actually” and it was a theory i enjoyed before the game even released. so i have in fact been thinking about this anyway LOL . maybe he tries to honeypot zara, accidentally actually reveals lucanis’ next assassination job, and zara gets rid of him as a ‘gift’. illario is horrified and that gets even worse when lucanis’ body shows up, and he assumes this must be because he spurned zara by leaving her and not having the guts to seize power.

i think we could make his inferiority complex worse. illario’s worst fear confirmed: he is as worthless as his grandmother believes he is, botching something so badly that he accidentally sentences his cousin to death when what he wanted was lucanis just… out of the way for a bit (maybe while he kills caterina. LOL. i still think his resentment of caterina trumps his jealousy for lucanis though those two things are very intertwined its hard for him to differentiate them). so incapable that he got the only person who actually supports him killed, and now he’s dreading the idea of becoming first talon. he doesn’t want first talon without lucanis backing him, and now the only person left is caterina which is suffocating and makes him even unhappier. at least he hadn’t lived through her alone, and now through consequences of his own decisions, illario has no choice but to.

i think that would affect his plans for talon because of how horribly he’d fucked up, and tries to mask it because if he suddenly actually doesn’t want to be talon that would be a red flag for everyone. lucanis coming back would delight him (talon is within his sights again if lucanis comes back!) and freak him out. i think the plotline would actually be pretty similar because of this freak out, so he still shows up to zara’s fight to cover his tracks. lucanis can never know, caterina can never know, because what little faith they have in him will be lost. like he committed fratricide and didn’t even MEAN to😭 ...corpse whispering still happens, and zara is like “ohhh that coward. he can never finish what he started, can he?” + “elaborate.” + “i gave him what he most wanted in the world and instead of being grateful, he ran away.” so lucanis finds out about what happened but feels a mix of “illario, you idiot” + pity because turns out he didn’t even mean for it to happen, and keeps his secret for now, otherwise he’d probably have to kill him.

i also think not meaning to kill lucanis would sour his feelings towards the venatori, who are a reminder of how badly he failed, so the alliance wouldn’t happen. this does mean if the story goes on as it does in canon, he has to take desperate measures another way and kidnap caterina for some other reason but i can’t think of why….. maybe a thing where illario is like “ok. lucanis is distracted by the elven gods. this time i just have to kill nonna for real and then nothing is in my way” and recruits disgraced houses or houses that don’t like caterina to do so? not sure tbh but i don’t believe caterina made it so far without making enemies lol. this would happen post bloodbath + corpse whispering— lucanis leaves his cousin unchecked because while he knows illario didn’t mean for him to die, he has no idea how far he would go to have caterina dead. teia could find out about this and send word to foil the kidnapping and assassination attempt

so ‘murder of crows’ is still about saving caterina, the illario-lucanis fight still happens, but it’s a little more hesitant and lots of “why won’t you just let me kill her? i’m doing this for the both of us”. he’s had to live with being the un-favorite, but never would have thought lucanis would actually pick caterina if it came down to it. with all of his missteps here, i think the final decision (and i think it should be like this in canon anyway) would be to imprison illario or kill him. imprisoning him is just a lot of “i can’t kill illario as much as he couldn’t kill me”, vs killing him as is expected from him as talon, and what he knew he would have to do after finding out about illario's failures. unlike canon, where illario is actually meaning to kill him and can be seen as a 'good crow' despite the sloppiness, here he's like. just bad at everything. the allied traitor houses that went against caterina would also have to be imprisoned or killed. no happy ending at all here, and lucanis still becomes first talon. now that i’ve written it out this is actually probably the worst ending LOL

the above sticks a lot to what is canon to the game (plot points, choices, etc) and i didn’t go very far away from it so it's like canon 3 inches to the left. tho my thoughts on this are not fleshed out* because i think illario works better as an antagonist character that sets things in motion !! not necessarily the villain in a cain-abel story, but a character who opposes lucanis while still not wanting to hurt him. that kind of discipline where he finds a way to get what he wants (first talon) without compromising what he also cares for (family) is so much more fun for me than a man who apparently just loses it and decides to enact a bad plan to get rid of his cousin. if he waited 20+ years to become talon i think he’d be more careful when it came down to it. if i had my way illario would be playing insane 5d chess to rival solas (insert black sails “i once thought that to lead, to be liked was just as good as feared. and that may very well be true. but to be both liked and feared all at once, is an entirely different state of being.”)

[red-moon-at-night]

I drew Paris not smiling within Helen's proximity for once because he's focusing (something something they're lost in each other's eyes).

Inspired by that one greek vase where they're practically touching nose to nose

also you get a close up because you clicked on the read more :) <3

[snekdood]

so august 2018 is when my peak being-crazy-made art craziness happened, huh

[idolomantises]

I haven't drawn Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss redesigns since last year and the fandom still regularly tags me/picks fights with me over them. I did not think a couple drawings would live in people's heads so rent free.

Like you can go find my redesigns on twitter, they're still very public. I just label them as "Angel Dust redesign" or "Alastor redesign". The only time I think I explicitly called a design bad was when I said I found Beelzebub's design atrocious. Which it is. It's an overdesigned mess that doesn't convey the sin at all, I'm allowed to say I don't like it. And even still, when I posted the art, I still labeled it as "Beelzebub redesign".

I'm not going to forget when you fans regularly stalked my account and PATREON just to figure out when I would upload the redesigns. You think I forgot about when I posted my Angel Dust redesign which was just meant to improve my old design and you people harassed me for days? You accused me of "baiting" fans because you are so self-obsessed you think everything I do is explicitly to upset you. You people misgendered me, told me to kill myself, called me a fucking cockroach and flat out threatened to assault me multiple times. Sure I was harsh about my critiques, but I didn't resort to homophobic and transphobic comments like you people did with my Angel Dust redesign because for some unexplained reason you diehard fans who have been following this project for 10 years didn't know that he's meant to be a drag queen. When I did a quick redesign of Katie Killjoy on my personal tumblr, guess what? You people flipped the fuck out, AGAIN.

I can't even talk about my own religion without you sad, paranoid losers thinking I'm trashtalking hazbin hotel. You made up some rumor that I block all Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss fans (despite being mutuals/friends with people who are fans of the shows or actually work on them) just so you could justify harassing me even more. You told me for years that I should wait until the Hazbin series dropped to get my full thoughts out and when it did you people still freaked out and berated me.

Even when I talked about my situation after posting my Angel Dust redesign, instead of apologizing, fans claimed I planned this hostile reaction to begin with to make the fandom look bad. That I was "pulling a transphobia card" for sympathy. I didn't do shit. You people have gotten more aggressive about your hate towards me because people finally saw how incredibly inappropriate and vile you people act over a midtier cartoon written by someone who has so many allegations of bullying, transphobia, racism and workplace abuse that it's become harder and harder for you to deny, so you take out your unrepressed anger on me.

I know the only reason you people target me is because I'm a big artist who doesn't kiss Viv's ass. You want me to be a diehard fan of hers like every other big artist you people bully into worshipping Viv and her show and I won't do it. So you just obsessively stalk and monitor my account and accuse every little thing I do as a spiteful attack so you can justify your little harassment campaigns again. It's pathetic.

Seek help, find a hobby, stop obsessing over people who don't like the same thing as you. It's getting sad.

[strangererotica]

SOAKED 𓇢𓆸

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Summary: After Reader is stranded by a carriage mishap, she finds herself lost in an attempt to make her way home alone. Luckily for her, another carriage happens to cross her path, belonging to none other than the Viscount Bridgerton himself…

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

While enjoying your evening ride, your carriage had broken down. To the great frustration of your driver, you’d insisted on walking home alone. It wasn’t in good taste, for a young woman to be out walking unattended. But you were in an exploring mood, and wanted to do your exploring alone. The company of your carriage driver was something you were honestly glad to be rid of.

Despite being reasonably close to town, you’d somehow managed to wander in the direction of the forest rather than home. Night was creeping closer, trees casting shadows across your path as you looked up at the sky, trying to find your bearings.

A large, cold drop of rain ‘plopped’ against your forehead, making you flinch. Several subsequent drops followed, till the situation quickly became a downpour. You raced for shelter beneath the trees, cursing under your breath as your ankle twisted on a large root sticking up from the ground. The trees were basically useless at shielding you from the rain, Autumn having stripped their branches almost entirely of leaves.

Your hat was soaked, its brim flattened against the sides of your head. The pretty dress you’d chosen to wear that afternoon was now caked with mud at the trim; you realized you must look incredibly foolish right now, but certainly not as foolish as you felt.

The sound of horses’ hooves approaching caught your attention. You looked down the road to see a carriage drawing closer, rain bouncing from its roof and sides. When the carriage came to a stop just by you, a stab of panic shot through your chest. What if it was someone you knew, discovering you out here looking a complete mess? And even worse, what if the carriage belonged to a man?

The carriage came to a full stop; the door swung open, and the handsome, familiar face of Anthony Bridgerton emerged. Your heart thumped inside your chest as his jet eyes raked over you, a mischievous smirk turning his lips upward. “Unusual night for a walk, Miss (Y/N),” he remarked, his tone playful.

Despite your embarrassment and the wet state of your clothing, you attempted a curtsy. “Indeed it is, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied. “I was out for an evening ride, when my carriage broke down.” You pointed past you, unsure of which direction you’d actually come from at this point.

“And your driver?” Anthony asked, seemingly unbothered by the rain pelting his hat and shoulders. “What of him? Am I to assume he left you unattended? At the-.” He bit his lip, running his eyes over your breasts, your nipples visible through the soaked material. “-Mercy of whomever should find you?” he finished.

You felt your cheeks going red, in spite of the chilly rain running down your skin. “It was my choice, I assure you,” you explained. “I insisted he allow me the chance to take some air, alone, on my journey home. I had not expected…” Your voice wavered, words failing you as Lord Bridgerton’s penetrating gaze made you weak.

“The rain?” he offered, an eyebrow lifted in amusement. “Understandable, Miss (Y/N). It seems I’ve found you absolutely drenched.” His eyes scanned your breasts and back up to your face.

Anthony tilted his head, acknowledging your ankle. You hadn’t noticed, but you’d been keeping your full weight off of it on purpose. “Your ankle,” he said, his tone sympathetic. “Is it sprained? You seem hesitant to apply pressure to it.”

“I twisted it on a raised root,” you explained. “It is not badly sprained. More of a discomfort, really-.”

“Regardless,” Lord Bridgerton interrupted. “Leaving you to manage on your own would be unconscionable. I insist-.” He extended his hand for you. “-That you allow me the honor of delivering you home.”

There was no way around it; you had to accept the offer. Taking a soggy step forward, you reached for Anthony’s hand and allowed him to help you into the carriage.

Immediately, you felt embarrassed by the way your wet clothes were dripping all over the carriage’s interior. The horses’ hooves sounded, followed by the familiar tug as the carriage was pulled forward. You could feel the Viscount’s gaze resting on you, but were too afraid to meet it. You’d harbored feelings for him for years, and had often wondered what it would feel like to have his attention fixed solely on you, to be the object of his interest. Now that you were in exactly such a situation, all of the practiced lines you’d rehearsed in your daydreams had completely vanished.

You pressed your thighs together, a familiar ache blossoming between them…a tightening, throbbing sensation similar to your heartbeat. You weren’t sure what it was, this odd pleasure mixed with pain; but you always felt it when you were in Lord Bridgerton’s presence, and sometimes, it occurred while simply thinking of him. You’d come to associate the feeling with Anthony, loving the sensation even as it frightened you. Not unlike your feelings for the Viscount himself.

“You needn’t worry about making a mess,” he remarked, and you froze. Because for a moment, you worried Anthony knew of what accompanied the feeling…the clear, slippery fluid that inevitably wound up wetting your inner thighs, whenever you thought of him.

He pointed to the seat across from him, which you were sitting on. Panic seized you, till you realized he was obviously speaking of the mess your rain-soaked clothing was making inside the carriage.

Your cheeks went rosy and warm again. Anthony noticed, and smiled slightly, as if holding onto a sweet secret that pleased him. “Upholstery can be mended,” he explained. “And on the subject of things that need mending…”

Anthony reached forward, taking hold of your injured ankle and lifting your foot to rest on his lap. Your eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. What could he possibly be thinking, touching you in such an intimate way?

You watched his fingers as they gently undid the laces of your boot. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked glimmer reflecting back at you. Anthony removed your boot, and delicately rolled the lace cuff of your sock downward, exposing your ankle. When his fingertips brushed your skin, the contact of his touch went straight to the aching space between your legs, as if a line were somehow connecting those parts of you.

A shiver ran through your body, your hips bucking as Anthony softly stroked your skin, coaxing his finger lower, till he was cradling your foot in his hand. Every subtle movement of his fingertips sent a flash of heat straight to your center, setting you ablaze with something you’d never felt before. The familiar throbbing between your legs was suddenly burning, the pleasure mixed with a pain that kept increasing, as if demanding some kind of release, though you didn’t know how to relieve it.

Anthony watched you with an unbearable intensity-could he not see that you were unwell?-his smile long departed and replaced with something darker, almost hungry, like the focus of a predator locked in on its prey. Your body jolted as if struck. Anthony observed your behavior in stoic silence-was he angry with you?-all the while continuing to delicately stroke your skin, as if he couldn’t see the way your body was completely overcome by his simple, tender ministrations. Tears burned behind your eyes as the ache within you throbbed harder and harder, pulsing in time with your racing heartbeat. You gripped the edge of your seat, your eyes squeezing shut, air leaving your body in gasps.

You realized you must have been dying…surely, there was no other way to explain this frenzy that had overtaken you. But just as you were sure you were dying…you were flying. The world went white in your field of vision, as the tension inside your lower body finally gave way. A brand new feeling, of absolute rapture and inexplicable bliss, pulsed at your core in waves, rippling and shattering its way through you. Relief washed over you, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin, chest heaving as you recovered from whatever beautiful, brutal attack your body had just endured.

Your eyes opened on Anthony, whose expression was even more intense than before. Certain that you’d upset him with your embarrassing fit, a sudden shame humbled you. “Forgive me, Lord Bridgerton,” you panted, tears welling in your eyes. “I am unwell. I do not know what came over me just now, but I must apologize for my intemperate behavior...”

Anthony’s expression softened, unlike his lap, which now felt stiff and uneven beneath your ankle. He cleared his throat, before assuring you that “everything is alright, (Y/N).” Hearing your name leave his lips, your first name and not your family name, was like hearing an angel speak. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And I promise, you are not unwell.” Lord Bridgerton’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “Quite the opposite, in fact,” he said.

“But-.” You watched as he rolled your sock back over your ankle. “-I must be ill, my Lord-.” Anthony slid your boot back over your foot. “-Or perhaps a demon momentarily seized hold of me-??” Anthony chuckled slightly, his eyes on the laces of your boot as he fixed them. “-I must rest,” you decided. “To make sure this doesn’t happen again...”

Anthony bit his lip and grinned. “Well,” he conceded. “Perhaps you’re right. Some time in bed might be just what you need…” Anthony leaned forward and took your hand in his. “…In case that frightful feeling returns.”

Your lips parted, his nearness an alarming reminder of the feeling he conjured within you, the aching pulse between your slippery thighs reigniting. “I…” You tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come, not with his hand holding yours, his lips so near to your skin-

-A rapping on the carriage lurched you from the trance you’d fallen in. You hadn’t even noticed that the carriage had stopped moving. A driver opened the door for you, offering his hand to help you out. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, exiting the carriage. “I’m so grateful for your assistance today.”

Anthony nodded politely, a warm smile on his face. “It was my pleasure, Miss (Y/N),” he said, and as you turned toward your home, “I’ll call on you later this week, to see how you’re recovering.”

You felt your heart rate kick up a notch. “…from your sprained ankle, Miss (Y/N),” Anthony clarified, though the suggestive glimmer in his eye implied otherwise. You watched as his carriage retreated, starting on unsteady legs into your home. Your dress was still soaked, wet with rain and something else…something only Anthony Bridgerton was able to conjure in you, the product of a secret it now seemed the two of you shared, together… 🩵

PART TWO

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (prt 9)

Masterpost

“So where’s the brother?” Jason asked as he followed Bruce down the hall. 

“He’s in Tim’s lab. It seems like they’ll be able to share it, which is good even with as big as this place is I don’t think we have room for two mad science labs,” Bruce said with dry humour, making Jason laugh in spite of himself.

“Tim must be thrilled to have a buddy huh?” He asked, still chuckling. No one in this family was stupid by any means, he often felt like the dumb one and objectively he knew he was still a fucking genius. But even with all of them being That smart no one could keep up with Tim’s innovative and scientific mind. 

“I think he might even learn a few things, which is a frightening concept. Danny asked for microwaves and toasters this morning so he could cannibalize them into anti-possession tech. The way that boy combines science and magic is going to give both me and Constantine ulcers.” 

Jason snorted, both at the joke and maybe a bit out of pleasure that someone was going to be giving Bruce a hard time. “Well if you need a babysitter don’t call me. I don’t want to deal with any of that,” he chuckled.

“Oh absolutely not, you would only feed into the chaos,” Bruce said quickly making Jason cackle, because he was right.

“Alright,” Bruce murmured to himself when they reached the closed door to the lab, it was almost lost in the banging inside but Jason heard it. Heard Bruce bracing himself for whatever was going to happen when Jason and Danny met.

He opened the door and across the room Jason saw who must be Danny. He was prime adoption bait with his black hair and blue eyes, but he was… absolutely beautiful, slight and elven, gently curved and wired with muscle. Jason froze, and it seemed so did Danny, staring at each other from across the room. Butterflies fluttered in Jason’s stomach, building till they didn’t feel like butterflies but something buzzing, trying to get out. He could hear the growl coming from his chest, not his throat.

Danny’s eyes swirled with green and he vaulted over the work table, abandoning the half finished tech he was working on to lunge at Jason. He collided with Jason with a snarl of his own, Jason growled and flipped Danny over his shoulder, the hall was a closed space so Danny twisted, running into the wall feet first and landing in a crouch. Jason twisted so he didn’t have his back to a wall anymore as Danny lunged at him again and Jason dodged, pushing off the wall to give himself momentum as he threw himself after Danny. 

Danny grabbed Jason’s arm and used his momentum to throw him over his hip, following him down to the ground, barely missing as Jason rolled away. He didn’t even think to draw a weapon, that wasn’t what this fight was about, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other. Even as Jason punched down so hard he cracked the floor he somehow knew Danny would dodge, and wouldn’t get hurt. And Danny did, he got out of the way and lashed out in return, kicking Jason in the chest and sending him flying a few feet back giving Danny time to scramble back to his feet and chase after him.

This give and take carried them down the hall and to the landing by the stairs. Somewhere in the background Jason knew that someone was shouting at them to stop, and to be careful, but he wasn’t listening. He was too focussed on the growl emanating from Danny, and from himself which were starting to smooth out again, to feel less like desperate insects trying to escape and more like a cat’s purr, or some sort of song. They were reaching equilibrium, some sort of harmony. 

He didn’t realize how close they were to the stairs until Danny knocked him back again and this time when he stepped back he didn’t land on solid ground. The two of them tumbled down the stairs, rapidly switching who was on top as they fell. Jason could feel himself collecting bruises but he didn’t fucking care.

They came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs with Jason on top, his forearm pressed against Danny’s chest just below his throat. They were both breathing hard, staring at each other with wide blue-green eyes. The growling died down, lowering down into purrs harmonizing with each other as they caught their breath. Jason’s was lower and Danny’s a little higher, it was a hypnotic sound that made Jason feel… peaceful.

Danny moved first, reaching up slowly to touch Jason’s face, but before he could Jason realized what they had done and the position he was in. He had fought with Danny, and he was now pinning an abused teenager to the floor straddling his waist. This looked bad and now that he realized what was happening it Felt worse! He practically shot up off of Danny and was about to bolt before Danny grabbed his hand.

“Wait! Don’t go yet! Let me just, let me get you a specter-deflector so no one can possess you first okay?” Danny asked, sounding oddly desperate and even though Jason wanted to run he nodded.

Danny looked relieved and let go of Jason before suddenly flying up and through the floor above them. Jason blinked at the ceiling above him before looking around him. 

Oh dear, Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jazz were all watching from the landing above. Damian looked like he wanted to kill Jason himself, Bruce looked disappointed, Tim impassive and Jazz looked… Excited? Why did she look happy?

Danny flew back down through the floor before anyone could think of what to say. “Okay! Here’s the specter-deflector,” He said, clicking something that looked like a watch into place around Jason’s wrist. “That’ll protect you, this is a blaster,” he said, handing Jason an odd sci-fi looking gun. “It’ll reload automatically from ambient ectoplasm, it works best against dead and undead but it can hurt humans too. And.. um, this is my number,” He said, blushing furiously as he handed Jason a slip of paper. “Please text me?”

When had Jason’s mouth gotten so dry?! He had to lick his lips before he answered, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were and that he must be blushing too. He didn’t blush much, not since his death and resurrection, but he was absolutely blushing now, and he was still purring too if more softly now. He didn’t even know that he could purr, not really. “Ya, Yes, I’ll text you,” he promised before he fled the house. He would have to have some of Alfred’s lasagna later, just then he desperately needed to calm down and clear his head.

-----

Jazz was practically vibrating with excitement and as soon as the door had closed behind Jason she couldn’t contain it anymore. She squealed as she vaulted over the railing of the landing and landed in the foyer and sprinting over to Danny. “Danny what the heck! You have a crush?! I haven’t seen you that passionate in ages!” She enthused scooping Danny up under his arms and twirling him around.

“Jaaazz,” Danny complained even as he went kitten limp in her arms letting her hold him at arms length nearly a foot off the floor.

“I didn’t even know you liked boys! Why didn’t you tell me you like boys!?” Jazz demanded, shaking him a little.

“I didn’t really, I mean I always preferred girls. The only guy I ever really had a crush on was Dash and-” He cut off when Jazz made a disgusted face. “Exactly! That was never going to happen and he was an asshole so I didn’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay ya I understand- Wait you were making fun of me for having a thing for bad boys when your type is asshole meathead jocks!? Ohhh you’re never going to hear the end of this baby brother!”

“Oh my god No!” Danny groaned, finally squirming out of Jazz’s hold and dropping back to the ground stepping back. 

He turned towards the Wayne’s who had made their way down the stairs while the siblings were talking. “Is Jason an asshole?” He demands of Tim, he’s probably the fairest judge in Danny’s estimation.

“Absolutely,” Tim said promptly before realizing what he said and backtracking a little. “But I’m his brother, I'm supposed to say that. Jason’s heart is in the right place, he's a good guy, just kinda violent and a complete jerk,” Tim said. 

“Perfect,” Danny said his expression a little dreamy. 

“Why on earth would you have a crush on Todd?! You could do so much better!” Damian squawked indignantly, breaking the tension and making everyone besides Bruce laugh, and even he smiled just a little. 

“I want to say you did well Bruce, I know it was hard not to break up the fight but so? It was good for them, I hope it won’t be too hard on you if they do end up dating,” Jazz said, patting Bruce’s arm. 

He shifted from one foot to the other a little awkwardly but then shook his head. “No it won’t be, I mean it won’t be the first time, Barbra was as good as my daughter and she dated Dick, and Steph and Tim dated. It’s always a little awkward but I’d rather that than a Super,” He said, shooting Tim a look, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well good, we’ll see how this works out but really,” she turned back towards Danny. “This could be good! You’ve always been attracted to violent people but I don’t think that your ghost instincts realized that when Val was shooting at you it wasn’t bonding for her the same way it was for you,” she told him, her tone borderline accusatory.

Danny looked down and shifted from side to side, giving a little shrug. “I know, but she was a good girlfriend, when she wasn’t being Red Huntress and I wasn’t being Phantom. When we were just Danny and Val, it was good.”

“Oh Danny,” She sighed and pulled him into a hug. “I know, but he has the same instincts as you, I’m rooting for you Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz,” Danny said softly, hugging her back.

“Welp, I’m heading back to the lab,” Tim said, obviously uncomfortable with the genuine emotions he made a break for it before he could get roped into any hugs.

Next

[flawseer]

On the False Dragonets of Destiny

Recycled art... Forgive me, I can't physically draw more than I currently am.

Just a little while ago I was looking at some replies to my recent work, and I noticed a nice comment from someone who expressed they enjoyed my comics featuring the false dragonets of destiny, but couldn't really get into them in the books. I am thankful for that comment, but even more thankful for the opportunity to ramble at length about something I kind of wanted to talk about, but couldn't find a plausible excuse for. Until now.

All of this is just my reading of the material, of course. You don't need to agree with me on this.

Content Warning: Some discussion of abuse, trauma, violence. I don't know if it's severe enough to warrant a warning, but better be safe.

General discussion

The false dragonets of destiny, the alternates, or whatever one wants to call them. They enter the story proper in book 4, after having made a few minor cameo appearances before, and serve as a kind of hybrid antagonistic force and pseudo-allies for Starflight during his stay on the Nightwing Isle. During that time, they are very abrasive, stand-offish, uncooperative, and a bit annoying, and I guess that doesn't make them come off very well. But like, in spite of that or maybe partially because of it, I am really fond of these guys, and I'd like to take some time talking them up to you.

One can examine how these guys act and conclude that they are a bunch of dysfunctional screw-ups. And they absolutely are that, don't get me wrong. But one should keep in mind: the majority of the time they are in the spotlight, they are in an extreme, tense, and frighteningly uncertain situation. It's easy to forget how stressful these situations are because the books as a whole really like to gloss over the more frightening kind of subjects on account of being written for young readers. You can't really go deep into themes of abuse, trauma, and depression in a story like that without tripping over some kind of censor on the way, but the implications are there, between the lines for you to find.

Understanding the group

Who are the false dragonets of destiny? They are posited as a mirror image of the true dragonets of destiny, who have all been extensively schooled in matters of education and martial prowess. The first thing we see THIS group do on page is brawl, so one may think they must be trained and capable fighters. Viper and Flame constantly throw around death threats and aggressive quips, so one may think they are hyper-violent and dangerous. They are neither. Nautilus admits the Talons haven't bothered training them at all, they haven't seen real combat, they've likely been deliberately kept away from the war as a whole. Flame doesn't even know how to use his fire breath correctly. Starflight, who is by far the least physically adept of the arc 1 protagonists, is able to outpace them even as four of them team up against him.

They are neither killers nor a crack team of badasses, rather they are a bunch of play-fighting, posing delinquents who talk a big game with little in terms of actual skill to back it up. Realizing this is key to understanding just how out of their depth and ill-equipped they are to handle anything that gets thrown at them on the Nightwing homeland, especially past the negotiations at the Skywing outpost.

Abduction and imprisonment

When Starflight first finds them, they have been on the Nightwing Isle for a good while, and they are suitably bristly because of it.

Look at this situation from their perspective. These guys have known nothing other than their semi-peaceful life in the Talon camp. Then the leader of that camp, Nautilus--a figure they all know and trust, essentially sells them to a frightening stranger, who looms over them and is so physically large he could crush each of them easily. This stranger pulls them away from their home without even giving them a chance to say goodbye to their relatives (I'm convinced Avalanche would not have let Morrowseer take her son if there was a chance to intervene, so Flame must have already been gone when she found out).

A contingent of Nightwing awaits them, blindfolds them so they don't know where the entrance to the Nightwing home is. They pass through a kind of eldritch tunnel that pulls at their souls. When they are finally allowed to see again, they find themselves trapped on an island where there is no sunlight and every breath hurts as the air is thick with ash.

The Nightwings won't let them leave, in fact they don't know if they will ever be able to leave again. Nobody tells them what's going on, what they are meant to do, or what the plan is. They are left confined in some room with nothing to do, and they (sans Fatespeaker) can't go outside without being arrested. Food is brought very infrequently, and usually inedible, so they haven't eaten since they were forced to leave home. They don't know where they are, nor where their parents are, nor if their parents know where THEY are. They are completely cut off from anywhere, isolated, trapped in this little slice of hell with no means to escape and little hope to acquire any soon.

I think if I was in a situation like that, I would be pretty cranky too. More than that, I would be scared out of my wits, and I believe that they are as well. If you look at their actions through a lens of them being frightened, their irritating quirks suddenly become very relatable. Viper is coping by throwing out threats and making herself seem bigger and scarier than the thing trapping her. Flame makes offensive jokes about killing Fatespeaker because making light of the situation helps him keep his wits together. Ochre is hard to read, but I think he's just tuning everything out. Squid is convinced that his father--who is the most important and smart dragon in all of Pyrrhia--has made the correct choice and knows what's best for all of them. And Fatespeaker is in complete denial, choosing to trust an inaccurate vision of the future while ignoring all the red flags that don't fit into it.

I think it's interesting that you can read this as all of them having a different strategy to cope with the uncertain and frightening situation they're trapped in. That's part of why I like them; they're very flawed and make interesting decisions.

Trauma and Empathy

You can look at someone like Squid and see his surface traits: He is annoying, he whines and complains constantly, he brags about who his father is, and he seems completely incapable of doing anything useful. If this guy was in any other story, I would probably dislike him. But Squid has the benefit of being a whiny dweeb in a situation where it is very appropriate to whine and be scared. He has a scene where he makes a somewhat goofy speech at Morrowseer where he calls him stupid and wants to go home, and is subsequently exiled. It's a bit silly in execution, but for me it did succeed in making me feel bad for Squid as he desperately and pathetically pleads for Morrowseer not to send him to his death.

But then you can read beyond the lines a little and view the scene in the full context that isn't really dwelt on. Here, you've got Squid, who is inept even among his peers, sheltered and doted on by his father, whom he has never been away from for any real amount of time until now. This guy, who probably can't even feed himself (otherwise he might have been able to catch fish in the waters around the island), keeps telling himself that his father has a plan, that all of this, even the questionable stuff, is happening for a reason. He hasn't eaten in weeks and he's been the punching bag for everyone else's frustrations (because Fatespeaker is not around enough, hanging out with Starflight). Now he has been chased halfway across the world, forced to cross the ocean while tired and starving, to be told he has to talk to a bunch of violent strangers who hate his kind and want to kill him. He tries to hide but is grabbed by the throat and held in the air by a soldier twice his size. This is likely the first time his life has ever been threatened that directly and with genuine intent.

The strange new Nightwing who was sent with them somehow manages to deescalate the situation enough to save him, but then, without warning, more dragons burst into the room. Suddenly everything is on fire, including the soldiers who just a moment ago threatened him. He is close enough to them to watch their forms twist and writhe in agony as they slowly burn to death.

As he is made to watch this horrifying spectacle, all the feelings he repressed by reminding himself of the faith he has in his father come flooding back in at once. It becomes too much for him to bear, and he breaks. He starts crying and verbally lashes out at their abuser for the horrid conditions they have been placed in and demands--half asserting and half pleading--to be allowed to go home. This isn't really whining anymore, this is a full-scale mental breakdown, rendered to be simple and digestible to a young audience. Imagine how harrowing this scene could have been if it wasn't filtered through a child-friendly narrative.

Closing thoughts

There is a scene some time after that I found kind of poignant. At one point, Starflight looks out and he sees Flame just standing out there, silently staring into the distance. There's maybe one line dedicated to it, and when you read the book normally, you don't really dwell on it since it's so nondescript. But this scene happens shortly after the visit to the remote outpost. The soldiers that burned to death in there were all Skywings. Skywings like himself, and like his mother, who also was a soldier before she joined the Talons. Whenever I picture him standing there, I imagine he is reliving that moment, hearing the dying screams of his kinsmen. I think he will be hearing them forever.

So in conclusion: The reason why I like the alternate dragonets so much is because of the enormous, untapped potential they possess as characters, and how deep some of them run if you take some time to look at them. I feel like all of them have a story to tell, and it's a bit of a shame that Sutherland likely won't come around to telling any of them. If I had infinite time, money, and energy, I would love to make many more comics about them, as they are an interesting lot.

Especially Flame's story I feel is such a heartbreaking tragedy, and thinking about the way it ended saddens me. He's one of my six all-time favorite characters in the series, I wish he could have gone out in a happier, healthier way.

[thesilmarillionblog]

A Sweet Distraction

Volume 2

➳ Click here to read the first part!

Summary: When you're in a club, you have to make sure Soldier Boy stays out of trouble and doesn't draw attention of other people while Butcher and the boys look for Payback members. Whatever it takes, you have to keep him busy and distracted.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), Language, some fluff

Word Count: 3025

A/N: English is not my first language.

Ben's lips curled as your tongues connected, and you felt your heart speed up as you gave him a gentle kiss, not knowing if it would calm his rage. You were shocked when, in spite of his rough nature, he gave you an affectionate kiss in return, as if he didn't want to frighten you away.

When his kisses got deeper and his tongue took over your mouth, leaving you gasping, you drew away. Seeing that his chest had gotten back to normal, you relaxed and exhaled deeply.

He winked at you and said, “You did a good job here, sweetheart, huh? You certainly know how to surprise me.”

You found yourself laughing uncontrollably as you observed his flirtatious behavior toward you. 

Your eyes wandered around the club as you muttered, “I just hoped surprising you would work,” blushing beneath his focused stare. Everyone continued dancing madly to the loud music, seemingly unaware that Soldier Boy was going to kill them all if you didn't stop him.

He led you to a quieter area of the club and said, “Well, it definitely worked,” when you bought him another drink. He was not getting drunken in any way.

Because he was a man with PTSD and was unpredictable, you were still terrified of him and wanted the night over as quickly as possible. However, you felt safer and more at ease with him because you didn't feel pressured to kiss him against your will. He was becoming even nicer to you. 

“So, why are you working for Butcher?” he inquired, setting his empty glass down on the closest table. 

You mumbled, “I'm not working for him,” as your nails gently traveled across the wall behind you. “His wife, who I was really close to, is hurt by Homelander really badly. She was the most kind human being I've ever encountered. So actually, I work with him let’s say.” 

He nodded to you despite the fact that the fact that he didn't clearly understand the situation or the dynamics amongst you all. 

“Butcher told me you're going to kill Homelander,” you muttered, as if you could be heard by someone else. “Are you truly capable of that? Killing him?” 

Soldier Boy laughed at your questioning and your clumsy attempt to find out if he was truly passionate about killing Homelander. “Of course I can, and I will,” he declared with pride. “He's just a foolish son of a bitch with a weird cape, and he's a cheap fucking knockoff. Just another worthless item to be used by his masters.”

You chuckled at his word choice and self-confidence, which fit him absolutely well. 

You said, "Honestly, I was very scared of you; well, maybe I still am, but I'm starting to think you're not that bad," feeling a little brave after his kind behavior toward you.

“I'm a tough bad supe,” he was whispering to you, raising your chin with two fingers and gently massaging your jawline with his fingertips. You shuddered, knowing that he might easily hurt you if he briefly loosened control. “But you know, just for you, I can show you how much I can be a gentleman.”

Even though you were still terrified of him and his abilities, your face flushed at his daring behavior right away. However, you were too weak to control your excitement. Being a supe or whatever was something you had never considered, so you muttered, “To be honest, I'm not that interested in getting intimate with a supe.”

As he drew nearer to you and prepared to press you to reconsider, he questioned, “Why not?”

Just a little while ago, Soldier Boy considered finding a simple supe woman to give his seed to and have a quick, hard fuck with, but now that he thought about it, he found you to be more interesting than those simple supe women who were boring and way too confident for his tastes—or perhaps he just liked your shyness at that particular moment. 

You said, your face flushed, “I heard there are supes who hurt people when they got close,” allowing him to touch your face with his massive hands. 

“There are no other men like me,” he remarked, with a grin brushing your lips with his thumb. 

You whispered, “No doubt. However, it's risky, don't you think? Considering the imbalance in power and everything.” 

“Believe me,” he added, continuing to playfully stroke your lips with firm hands. “I've fucked a lot of regular women just like you before; I can guarantee that none of them experienced any injury. People find themselves drawn to fucking supes for a reason.”

Your pulse raced with excitement and a hint of fright as you allowed him to touch you, unsure of whether or not to believe him. It felt like just the two of you, in between the din and the background noise. Soldier Boy was undeniably attractive, and his extraordinary strength only served to heighten the thrill you felt. 

“You want to distract me, right?” He heard your rapid heartbeat and sensed that you were putting your legs together, so he smiled and muttered something in your ear. “If you allow me to get into your tiny, aching pussy, we can both get pleasantly distracted. I would be happy to provide for your every need. Actually, I'm giving you a chance, so count yourself fortunate.” 

Telling him you didn't want to be touched would be a big lie. So, as he continued gently brushing your cheek with one of his powerful hands, you placed yours on his hand and gave him a forceful but delicate kiss to find out if he was being truthful about being a gentleman or not. 

Unexpectedly, he gave you the same tender kiss in return, and you could feel a little smile creep across his lips. After a while, his gentle kisses became more intense as he pulled you toward his powerful chest with his large hands behind your neck. Under his powerful hands, you felt secure. After a while, his powerful and seductive kisses left your lips red and ruined, and you pulled away to catch your breath.

He asked in a harsh voice against your lips, “So, what do you say?” as he continued to give you short kisses that increased your desire for him.

You gave it a little consideration, letting your hunger and physical desires gradually take the place of your fear of him, and then you nodded to him, “Uhm, yes.”

Soldier Boy's lips met yours with a smile as his hands hovered over your hips, slowly squeezing you until you left speechless and made to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet.

With a harsh voice, he asked, “Yes for what?” knowing that tonight, when he

finally got in your panties, you would make his dick warm with your tightness. He could feel his large cock getting harder by each second.

As he attempted to get you to talk when you were consumed with his exquisite little touches, Soldier Boy chuckled at your shyness. 

You said, “Yes for,” stumbling for words. “A small distraction, let's say?” 

Soldier Boy chuckled in a low voice at your description of the issue. He almost said something filthy about your naive demeanor, but he chose to refrain from putting you through more discomfort than was necessary. 

While guiding you to the second floor's darker corners and the rooms there, he teased, “Fine, baby, it doesn't sound that miserable anymore for you, huh?”

Then, just as a man was ready to crush you with his clumsy walk, Soldier Boy pushed the somewhat drunk man to the other side of the wall, and you found yourself inside a small, dark room that smelled strongly of drugs and alcohol. He stated, “It's all safe in here,” as you hurriedly scanned the room before he wildly began kissing you. 

He was taken aback when you kissed him tenderly on the lips, and you hoped he would be as kind as possible. You stroked his long beard and smiled at him. 

His tongue in your lips made you shiver and as he gave you a passionate kiss, your fingers danced over his long beard. He drew back and shoved you against the wall, making you gasp. He lifted your dress confidently and met your eyes with his darkened ones to check whether you were still afraid of him.

He gently assured you, “I won't hurt you,” right before his big fingers began to stroke your clit through your underwear. “Just relax.”

As he felt himself becoming more and more difficult for him to control, but he made his choice to make you feel comfortable and wet by giving you pleasure you needed. Soldier Boy gently inserted one of his fingers inside of yours, causing you to sigh a little louder this time after rubbing your clit some more and eliciting small noises from your mouth.

He answered, “You can take it,” and then carefully inserted his entire meaty finger inside of yours. “You're so good for me.”

You pushed yourself to take his entire finger in between his compliments and begged him to lift you up so you could be in a more comfortable position. Thankfully, he got the message right away and effortlessly raised you up with one hand. He then proceeded to gently touch you while whispering compliments against your lips.

You pressed your lips to his as he began to touch you more roughly, kissing him wildly as your fingertips played with his long and thick beard.

When Soldier Boy felt that you were close and that you were moist all over his hand, he added another finger. He bit your bottom lip gently, then whispered, “Cum on my fingers, sweetheart,” as he increased his strokes and found your most sensitive area with skill.

As you neared your climax, your legs trembled and you began to clench around his thick fingers between his praise while you moaned loudly against his mouth. When he took back his fingers, which were coated with your slick, you whimpered in protest. You were rather touch-starved, and you knew your body needed more.

He shoved his fingers in your mouth before you could even respond, growling, “Taste yourself,” as you held him tightly since your legs felt like a jelly. “Taste your sweetness.”

Your body became consumed with a desire to please him, so you hesitantly opened your mouth to let him to use it whatever he pleased. When he saw that you were ready to follow his instructions, he smiled mischievously and gave you the finger, saying, “Suck it, baby.”

When he put his hardness between your legs and ordered you to suck his finger so you could taste your own wetness, your heart began to race. As he carefully slid his fingers back and forth in your mouth, your tongue curled around his finger, giving you the sensation of a salty slick, and he pretended that you were sucking his cock instead. 

His lips twisted in enjoyment as he observed your submissive demeanor, and he growled, “You're a little dirty cocksucker, aren't you? However, I'll give you another chance to suck me off with your adorable little mouth later.”

With a swift motion, he removed his finger from your mouth and guided you both to the bed behind you. When Soldier Boy removed his hardness from his pants while holding your neck and pulling up your dress. The moment you felt the tip of his cock at your wet entrance, you shivered with anxiety, your cheek facing the sheets as you waited nervously for him to take you. You moved under Soldier Boy and forced him to release his grip on your hip, causing him stare at you perplexed before he inserted his cock into your pussy.

“What now?” he questioned while you were looking at his enormous dick in fear as he gave himself quick, forceful strokes.

“I’d like to do it in that position,” you murmered shyly, trying not to look at his enormous cock.

Soldier Boy noticed your anxious expression and your naive tone as you expressed wanting to be fucked in a missionary position. Without even realizing it, his heart began to soften, and he leaned over you on the bed, forcing you to lock your legs behind him as he began to kiss you again to help you relax. 

“Do you want to watch me fucking you?” He removed your tiny panties from your pussy and raised your dress so he could see your nude lower body. “Watching my cock slide inside your pussy,” he questioned. 

“Yes,” you moaned as you felt his thick cock on your stomach and mumbled against his mouth. 

After pulling the hanger off your dress and exposing your tits to his view, Soldier Boy spit on his own fingers and began to caress your sensitive clit some more. When he quickly sucked on both of your hard nipples, you let out a deep moan. Then, with a daring gaze into your eyes, he spat on his own fingers more and said, “Your adorable little hairy pussy looks so delicious. I'm fucking tired of shaved little bitches. You're really appealing to me, sweetie. A real woman.”

His fingers and his compliments made you feel close as his hand continued to play with your clit. You attempted to control your moans but were unsuccessful when he abruptly inserted two fingers back into you, forcing you to clench around his fingers once again.

He said, “I can make you come as much as you want, sweetheart,” as you whimpered loudly and opened your legs wider. Your eyes welled up with tears as you realized how empty you felt and how much you needed him to fill you.

“Beg me to fuck you.”

You quietly said, “Please,” running your fingers through his long beard.

“That's not how you beg,” he muttered aggressively.

You clamped your legs around his hips and moaned, “Fuck me, please,” as you attempted to get him to move on you.

As you continued pleading with him to get inside you, your eyes clouded with desire to be fucked by him, Soldier Boy grinned satisfiedly against your lips. He held his firm cock in his hand and moved it back and forth against your clit, forcing you to continue begging.

You both groaned when he finally pressed it against your entrance, and he moved very carefully to avoid hurting you with his strength. But you were so wet that he didn't even have to push, and he effortlessly glided inside you, which made him smile proudly. 

He encouraged you, saying, “You're taking me so good,” and attempted, very carefully, to insert his entire shaft inside your pussy. “Just a little bit more.” 

When he gave you a firm hip squeeze and thrust his entire hardness inside of you, you felt a little uncomfortable at first, but you quickly grew accustomed to the length of his dick and forced yourself to suppress your groan of discomfort.

He waited inside of you, and you murmured softly, “Can you be gentle?”

“You want to be fucked slowly?”

You nodded to him, and he surprised you by kissing your forehead tenderly and smiling a little. He said, “I'll fuck you as you like it tonight.”

You both gasped with ecstasy as he began to slowly move his cock inside of you. He looked into your eyes, his muscular hands holding you in place as he slowly smashed his dick within your pussy.

With every stroke, he snarled and praised you, saying, “You're so fucking tight and nice. I should have fucked you sooner.”

He was fucking you slowly but with powerful strokes that made you sigh with pleasure. He was also extremely mindful of every facial expression you made. When Soldier Boy sensed your hips frantically striving to match his thrusts, he began to move a little quicker and harder. He was aware that your body was capable of more. You felt yourself moving closer to him again as you groaned louder and gripped his face as he began to fuck you harder. 

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he commanded, wrapping his hands around your neck and shifting slightly on top of you. It got harder to keep himself from spilling inside of you as he fucked you carefully, seeing as your tits bounced with each stroke. 

Your legs trembled with incredible pleasure as soon as he gave you the order to cum and hit you with his powerful thrusts, dominating your body, and you screamed in intense pleasure. You had no idea that you needed to be fucked in that particular way. You forced him to fully press against your walls by raising your hips and clenching around his big cock. You were shaking under Soldier Boy wildly as he continued to fuck you in between orgasms. 

With a low growl, he shoved his entire cock within your pussy and grabbed your tits with one hand while spilling his thick, white ropes inside.

“Fuck,” he growled as you clenched around him one more time and he kept spilling inside you for minutes, filling your insides with his sperm.

As he filled up inside of you, you both snapped to reality, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

He took his softened cock from your insides, and he chuckled when you smiled against his lips and while you were trying to catch your breath in bliss.

When he palmed your pussy and got back his sperm to your insides, which were leaking out of your thigh, you both moaned. 

“See,” he teased you. “No damage was done. I gave you an excellent attention.”

You boldly put your hands to his flushed lips, closed your eyes, and gave him a quick, hard kiss. 

“You're indeed a sweet little distraction to me.”

THE END.

A/N: Well, that was all. It was just a two chapters long fic, but you can check my Masterlist for long Soldier Boy / Reader fics.

Let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are very appreciated and important to me. ♡

Taglist: @n-o-p-e-never @mostlymarvelgirl @libby99hb @arrowenchantress @aleemendoza2425-blog @anundyingfidelity

[starsofarda]

So, here's some thoughts about a fic I willone day write. Many thanks to @starshadeemilyart for helping me with brainstorming a few ideas.

I do not have a title for this yet. I will call it, at the moment, "The Feanorians' adventures in the Shire".

Bullet points seem like a good idea, so I am sticking with that.

Feanor gets kicked out of Mandos, Namo has had enough of this guy moping over the tortures of his sons and adamantl requesting to be sent back to Aman.

As a punishment Namo kicks him out, but sends him in the Shire, together with his sons, Fingolfin, Fingolfin's sons/daughter and Thingol. They are at the Grey Havens and Cirdan is refusing to let them leave ME. Arson/Kinslaying is stopped by the arrival of Gandalf.

Gandalf is tasked with taking care of Feanor & co. Gandalf will be happy about the task until Feanor opens his mouth and it is an insult. Gandalf also opens his mouth and it is another insult.

It's suddenly Gandalf "I preferred white" The Grey vs Curufinwe "Get thee gone from my gates" Feanaro in a battle of who can sass the other out first.

Someone interrupts them, maybe Gwahir has come reminding Gandalf of the task at hand.

Moment of Fingon calling Gwahir "Thorondor" and Gwahir saying "no, that was my great grandpa, I am Gwahir, current king of the Eagles". "Ok. You were not supposed to have such a short life?" "Apparently it's punishment for saving you all." "We are sorry!" "Oh no, we chose this, no probs mate"

Anyway, they are all in the Shire and it's during their travel to Hobbiton that they see what appears to be a bard, all dressed in black, sad and looking like a withered stalk. He is singing the Noldolante and they see it's actually Maglor

Cue family reunion, cue everyone gets filled in on what happened since their death.

Somehow they also start learning Westron bc having Linguistics Georg over there is actually a good thing.

They finally arrive at Hobbiton and Bilbo has come back from the Lonely Mountain and his house is being put on auction and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has already stolen the infamous silver spoons.

Feanor is reminded of his exile at Formenos and enquires CALMLY.

As in he shouts a loud "WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING HERE WHY ARE YOU DEPRIVING SOMEONE OF THEIR HOUSE?!"

Which also prompted Bilbo shouting as well: "I WAS GONE FOR 5 MINUTES AND NOW MY HOUSE IS ON AUCTION, ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE TAKING POSSESSION OF MY MATHOMS AND MY BELOATHED IN-LAWS HAVE STOLEN MY PRECIOUS SILVER SPOONS"

Cue explanation on what is a Mathom. Feanor, as crown prince and king, takes it well.

"GET AWAY FROM HIS GATES YOU FIENDS! AND YOU! GIVE HIM BACK THE SILVER SPOONS, I WILL FIGHT YOU!"

To which Lobelia replies like the refined lady she is. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, I STOLE NOTHING, YOU WILL BE BEATEN BY MY UMBRELLA OF DOOM!"

Fingolfin, Thingol, the SoF, Fingolfin's sons are like trying to not be perceived, but they are being served tea and biscuits to enjoy the fight, bc this is an EventTM in the SHire and evveryone is treating this like a rooster fight.

It's at that point that some of them decide "fuck it, we might as well."

Maglor becomes the announcer, Celegorm is the referee, Curufin is the one building the ring, the Ambarussar act as PRs, Caranthir starts taking bets.

Maedhros is crying sobbing on Fingon's shoulder and saying something like "I want my mum, I probably deserve all of this, but by Eru Allmighty!", Aredhel is now in the Hobbit Ladies Gossip Club, Turgon, Argon and Fingolfin still try not to be perceived.

That until Thingol, out of spite, goes to Caranthir and bets against Feanor.

RIP Thingol, King of Bad Choices.

Gandalf is watching the drama unfold with the same glee he pulled Bilbo together with the Dwarves and doing absolutely nothing.

It's Feanor and a forging hammer against Lobelia and her umbrella.

It's a choir of "fight fight fight!" all the way.

Yes, Maglor is making introductions WWE style.

It still ends in a draw, but Bilbo gets back house and spoons and mathoms, bc the Hobbits as a whole deem him enough trouble if he has not only Dwarves, but also Elves around. Anyway, Mad Baggins now has a bunch of Elves with a lot of pent-up rage and a lot of free time.

DW, they are useful to the entire Hobbiton and they learn the way of the Hobbits. Somehow they start getting along.

Russingon wedding happens in Hobbit fashion, like the two are now clothed not with Elvish robes, but with carefully tailored suits like any gentleHobbit. There is a lot of crying.

CeleDhel wedding happens, but mostly so that if Eol ever gets reembodied he can fuck off immediately. Also, they are good friends and when Maeglin gets reembodied as well he can maybe have a slightly better father figure.

IDK these last two points seem like a natural consequence.

Thingol and the Gaffer become good friends, gardening reminds him of Melian, maybe he's finall making one (1) good decision.

And then they see that Elves are abandoning ME, at this point Gandalf tells them about Sauron, the rings and the whole deal.

"And who made the rings?" "The ones for the Elves was Celebrimbor, the others was Sauron."

Curufin: "And pray tell, WHERE IS MY SON."

Gandalf: decribes Celebrimbor's death as reported in the chronicles

The rest of the family reacts in the same way

In the meantime Bilbo has adopted Frodo and Frodo reminds them of little Tyelpe and they are going to throw hands

Maedhros just says: NO OATHS THIS TIME NO OATHS. OATHS BAD.

And well.

Ideas so far were to have them go to like Dol Guldur and have a fight off with Orcs and Nazguls, I am still undecided whether I want them to know about the One Ring. Oh well.

I'll probabl post something else once I figure out more stuff

Thoughts? Comments?

[m4vestu]

Gingerbread Man - C. Sturniolo

-blurb sortaᥫ᭡

a/n: I've had this little idea for days now and I kinda hate it now but I wanted to put something cute out soon so enjoy!!

warning: not proofread

You had spent many Christmas Eves in the Sturniolo household, but this year was the first as Chris's girlfriend.

"Ma, wake up." You'd been fast asleep in Chris's room for hours before he barged in. "if you don't get up I'm gonna get trev in here to... pee on you." Chris was joking but he at least thought it would be enough to trick his girlfriend into waking up.

"what do you want Christopher" you managed to giggle out, being half asleep and all.

"Matt, Nick, and I are doing a last-minute gingerbread house-making challenge, and I want my baby on my team," Chris said that last part in hopes of persuading you to get up. You opened your eyes a bit more to see him walking over with Trevor in hand. He placed the dog on the bed in front of you and gave him a little nudge. "on the count of three, trev, just like we practiced."

You looked at them both in confusion, unknowing to what was to come.

"three...two... ONE!" Chris and Trevor both sent kisses all around your face until you were a giggling mess. "OK OK, -I'M UP, GUYS -STOP IT."

Chris pulls away and twirls out of the bedroom happy his little plan worked. You get up, throw on one of Chris's hoodies that lied on the floor, fixed your hair a bit and the mirror, scooped up Trevor off the bed, and made your way into the kitchen with the boys.

____________

"Chris!! the roof is slipping oh my god!" It was a battle between you and Chris versus Matt and Nick to see who could make the best-looking gingerbread house while one member of each team was blindfolded.

"It a little hard to keep the roof up when I can't see, baby" Chris tried over and over to glue everything and keep it together without falling before the timer runs out.

"okay we wont have a lot of time, so let's just decorate the outside." you handed Chris the piping bag with the pink icing inside and guide his hand to start drawing windows on the side of the house.

"I just have a feeling yours and Chris's house looks like shit right now" Nick yelled from the other side of the counter.

"I actually CAN see and let me just say you and Matt aren't looking so hot right now" You were quick to throw an insult back as this was natural to you after all these years.

"Bro what are you talking about right now, chris got y'all house lookin' like something diseased."

Before you could respond back to Matt's remark, Chris slathered a large swipe of icing across your face. You stand there in utter shock at what Chris had just done. He and Matt burst out in uncontrollable laughter, not seeing it coming.

"STOP what did I miss guys, I cannot stand both of you" Nick shouts unaware as to what's happening.

"no fucking way." you grab the other piping bag off the table and get ready to pour it all over Chris. Just as you are about to get him back, Chris throws his blindfold off and runs down to the living room.

You start running after him "I'm gonna fucking kill you" you say, ready for revenge.

"cant catch me ma, I'm the gingerbread man," he says now running circles around the coffee table while you tried to nag him.

Just after saying this, he tripped over one of trevors toys and right onto the couch. You took this as your chance and straddled his waist to assure he doesn't get back up.

Now that you've got him right where you want him, you pour icing all over his face out of revenge and spite. he reaches out to your sides and starts tickling mercilessly. Unable to keep in your laughter, you surrender and Chris wipes the icing off his face with his shirt.

With you still on top of him, he can't help but pull you into a kiss. You grab his face and deepen into the kiss, still giggling into his lips.

"You're a shit gingerbread man Chris," you say before going right back into the kiss.

He pulls away ready to say his snark remark before a pillow hits you both. You both turn in the direction the pillow seemed to come, seeing Matt and Nick looking back in disgust

"Can you freaks get up so we can finish the video please"

────୨ৎ────

[coeurify]

“it’s november.”

the words have you jumping, the unsolid, rounded edges of the stool you’re currently standing on wobble with the movement of your foot. a squeak follows, rushing to find your balance— which is found by pressing your hand against the wall you were trying to reach the top of.

the hand used is … currently holding a string of multi colored christmas lights, the green trail of side dropping below you, your stool and the wall you had already pinned them to.

“it’s november,” the voice repeats— belonging to your girlfriend ellie, who walks behind you and peers up. the sweater she wears is pushed up to her elbows, pooling the cloth in a way that makes her look a little silly. as silly as the tone of voice she uses as she continues her obvious teasing. “and you’re already putting christmas lights up?”

your lips pout out immediately at the words, huffing as you press your sock clad feet. “november is almost over el. this is an absolutely valid time to put these up.” you wave your hand holding the clump of lights around, much more steady on your little wooden stool you were using for some added height.

“babe, thanksgiving hasn’t even passed,” ellie continues— and you can see her shaking her head even out of the corner of your eye as your head turns back to the wall— jaw clenching as you press up on your toes again to hand the light over the next pin. the small chuckle that the sight of you struggling to reach the spot seems to bring only annoys you more— head snapping to look over your shoulder with a look ellie liked to call your ‘scary eyes.’

“you can’t even— baby you can’t even reach. how did you get all that up?” ellie tries not to laugh but she can’t help it, the bursts of giggles slipping from her lips before she can stop them, green eyes trailing over the soft and cozy living room you two shared. somehow, alone with your little shitty stool.. you had covered at least half of the room while she was napping. “let me help,” she offered, a hand reaching out to steady your leg.

“no!” you complain, kicking your leg out a little to shrug off her hand. it only brings the wood below you to rock some more, which makes ellie grip a little harder. “you’re being judgy. i don’t want your help.” you sound petulant, maybe a little hurt by her amusement that you were doing this now.. alone.

“i am not being judgy,” ellie soothes her hand over your leg as you reach forward and successfully hook the sting of wired lights over the next spot. “you are, and you’re basically the same height as me— you can’t reach shit either.” you continue, the dig at her height a teasing one, paired with an eyebrow raise and fleeting glance back at her.

“ow?” ellie’s free hand clamped over her chest in faux hurt— the ragged cut strands of deep auburn hair shaking with her head. you find yourself watching the movement and fighting away a smile. “i meant by keeping you steady but if you wanna be mean i can totally let you do it all.” ellie pinches your leg over the fuzzy sweatpants you’re wearing. if it was anyone else you might be a little worried she was actually hurt.. but you can hear the humor seeping into her words and drawing out her sentences.

“fine,” the sigh that comes with the tingle word makes it seem like this decision was just absolutely the most difficult one you’ve had to make— the dramatics always evident. “i guess you can help. but only if you quit saying i’m doing it too early.”

honestly, you had planned to finish this little light hanging before she was done with her nap. she worked a long day with joel, you wanted to surprise her. and okay.. maybe you had seen one or two too many videos about the holidays that had given you the itch to decorate something and right then. but clearly the surprise element was lost, and ellie’s sarcastic taunting had replaced it. so now maybe you’re doing it out of spite. who knows, maybe you’ll even put on the santa clause after.

ellie’s fingers raise to her mouth, fake zipping them and nodding quickly. the urge to roll your eyes is one you act on, scoffing at her before you turn again and feel the steady warmth of her hands on both of your legs now, shifting you a little bit further down the wall for the next spot.

your lip falls between your teeth again, toes straining against your feet as you push as high as you can to get the next spot and—

“okay but you can admit most people wait for after thanksgiving right?”

“ellie!”

[zeyris-daydreams]

Serendipiter - yandere!aventurine x reader

Someone who deliberately orchestrates events to appear serendipitous to others.

- Example: The serendipiter always stayed two steps ahead, creating 'happy accidents.'

a/n: thoughts of aventurine bending fate regardless of his luck rotted me today…

———————

To be or not to be? Well, Aventurine begged to differ. To bet, or not to bet? That was a question he was actually willing to ask, one he was also willing to answer. To be sure of your choices you had to make them first. Then own up to them, no matter the outcome.

That is what he expected you to do.

Your surroundings were the least important thing here. You sat in a VIP room of Penacony’s grand hotel, at a round table. In front of you was the IPC’s gambler. Aventurine, the cornerstone.

“Come now, we don’t have all the time in the world” The blond looked at you from behind the cards he held, their backs turned to you. He reclined in his red seat, almost lazy and casual. “Any of these, it’s not that hard.”

You held your hands on your lap, scrunching the material of your uniform. That’s right. Your teeth were grit together, and you bit the inside of your cheek. This choice wasn’t hard, all you had to do was draw a card out of the seven presented to you. Any of them.

Yet, knowing Aventurine’s luck, you knew your chances were nearly zero from the get go. Your wrist ached in protest as you reached out to the cards, uncertain. Your fingers shook, and you couldn’t still them.

”The odds are in your favour, why the hesitation?” He leaned forward, resting his chin against his hand, elbow on the dark table. He donned a sly smirk, a knowing one. Your cards have been dealt before you even made a choice, but there was no backing away from it anymore. You had to own up to it.

All you had to do was pick a card. Pick a card that he hasn’t picked, one out of seven. That should make your chances increase significantly, but within all the gambles you faced against Aventurine, you haven’t won once.

You didn’t want to test your luck. You didn’t want to know the coming failure. Sometimes it was better to avoid the elephant in the room, but you did it too long. The comfort of the luxurious seat helped nothing. It only caused you to tense more. You remained silent. One out of the seven.

One.

Aventurine raised his brow, pulling his sunglasses up to his hair from their previous position on his nose. “I could help you pick, then. Maybe the left side.” His grin returned, one too elated during this situation.

Was he conning you? Your freedom was at stake, your chances of getting out of this were at a risk. To live is to take chances. Left side. Left.

You frowned. If he suggested such a side, it must mean that he expected you to pick otherwise. Did he? If you picked right, would you play into his ploy? Did he expect you to pick left to spite him? Maybe Aventurine was attempting to trick you, were you to think you went against his wishes, you’d choose left, precisely because of your suspicion. What was correct?

Sweat collected at the edges of your forehead, stopping shy of your brows. You felt hot and cold at the same time, palms sweaty despite how cold they were. Yet you couldn’t muster a word from how deep in contemplation you were. You couldn’t tell what choice would be playing into his plan, what choice would jeopardise it.

But you had to say something. “I need to think.”

Aventurine hummed, watching your hand rest on the table. His own moved over, so close to covering your own. Instinctively you pulled your arm back, resting your palm back on your lap. “I don’t think there’s anything to think about. I mean, all you need to do is pick a card, right?”

He wasn’t wrong per se. There was nothing to think about besides the mind games you assumed he was playing. The cards were unmarked, there was nothing to analyse. You bit at your bottom lip, sure you’d tear through the skin.

Perhaps this was merely aimed at prolonging your doom. You couldn’t lose if you chose inaction. You wouldn’t face it if you chose ignorance. But he knew what you were up to, and so he idly looked at his watch.

”I’ve got a meeting coming up in fifteen, decide quickly, yeah?”

The nonchalance he said this with made you feel irritation simmer back to the surface. Here you were, at risk of losing your freedom, and he treated it like it was nothing. To Aventurine this was nothing impressive.

He learned to risk his life like it was nothing. Your situation was nothing impressive.

Yet you hesitated. He took everything away from you already, freedom was nothing comparable to this. Aventurine knew freedom was nothing. Even ones ‘free’ suffered, and sometimes ones chained lived better lives. Perhaps it was cruel to say it out loud though. ”Honey, you gambled with me willingly for so long. How is this any different?”

He wasn’t wrong, but this wasn’t entirely true either. You gambled for a chance to lessen the debt placed upon you, one you never realised you had. One you never asked for, never expected.

Foolishly you used the luxuries available to you, taking them for granted. Blissfully unaware that each of them was counted as debt to your name. It was all too easy for the gambler to arrange it. You were too trusting, too naive.

If someone found a gem like you before him, an unpolished crystal, they’d shape you to their own liking. Aventurine didn’t like the idea. If anything, he had to encase you first. And so he did, and you didn’t know.

Before you realised, the goods within your hotel room were all IPC property. It was unfair to you, maybe, but Aventurine never claimed to play fair. He never claimed to even out the odds for everyone, he never said he believed in justice.

This was the last gamble. You’d leave debt free, with the things you previously gambled away. Or you’d be his.

Your throat felt tight and you wished you didn’t need to breathe in. You made your choice suddenly, jerking your hand to grab the card you deemed fit. The one you decided to be your pass to freedom, in accordance to the mind game you assumed he played.

It didn’t matter however. Pick right or left, the outcome would be the same. Were you just this unlucky, or was he just too lucky? Maybe you were the balance to his neverending fortune.

After countless gambles to win back your money or lessen the debt, you knew you wouldn’t win. Nothing mattered.

As you laid the card on the table, you looked at an ace. The ace Aventurine showed you while shuffling the seven cards. But it was the outcome he already saw before you even considered your possibilities.

”My, my. Would you look at it?” he picked the card with his thumb and index finger, turning it over in his fingers. “Out of six to choose this one, you must be tremendously disadvantaged” He grinned, white and pearly teeth shining due to the light above both of you.

You expected this, but the blood from your face drained anyway, your stomach twisting as though it wanted to rid itself of the food you had to eat earlier. One you never asked for, but as Aventurine said, you should accept things that are given your way.

To bet, or not to bet. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was to take accountability for your choice. Or at least attempt to.

Because as you processed your current doom, Aventurine pressed all the cards into a stack, shoving it within his pockets. All of the cards were aces, and he wasn’t going to let a chance ruin it. Ultimately, he was lucky. But he wouldn’t leave it up to fate to give you to him.

Aventurine, in his career, learned that the only way to achieve things was to seize them with his hand.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

I contemplated a lot whether to reblog that post because i think most of it was wrong, but the addition is so great and refute pretty much everything while raising some amazing points so if i could reblog only the addition without the original posts i would.

It’s just funny to me how every time i see ppl “here are Marika’s crimes” they list like 50% is what she actually did, and the other 50% are things that either was during Radagon time (when Marika couldn’t even have a proper statue that depict her as being the one in control), done by some other guys, or after she got strung up inside the Erdtree. Y’know, literally impaled and knocked out cold ?

The ritual sword and shield talisman (which depict sword and shield of Crucible Knights too btw) pointed at Radagon’s face to say by his time, all ritual combats in honour of the Erdtree had died out, but in LoS it was maintained and Messmer even had a talisman of Godfrey in his castle. A talisman depicting Godfrey accepting the duty to be his Mother’s Lord. Without wavering.

The ritual combat is just another thing that will remind people of the first Elden Lord’s devotion to his Goddess, which would do Radagon no good. so that, along with the Crucible Knights, gotta go.

All this just show how by Radagon’s time, the Golden Order’s ideal no longer reflects the Erdtree’s - another testament at how far from each other his and Marika’s will have diverged.

Also, i really like the fact that the Zamor and Ice Dragons allied with Marika to fight the Fire Giants who had chased them from their home, because to me that means at the start of her age, Marika was extending her help to people who needed it (with ulterior motives, yes).

Her age wasn’t built in a vacuum. She was a healer Godling with no offensive spells, Messmer’s health just got a bit better, Godfrey with all the implications in SoTe, was probably just a simple bear hunter? What on earth those 3 could even do in a land where the Hornsent royalty reigned supreme?

Go somewhere else, recruit as many people and make as many alliances as they could. I have no doubt the world under the Hornsent was a violent one (hell, it still is now, every time i went into a Gaol i want to go back and smack the Hornsent inquisitors a few more times). And for a new God to appear, and instead of stuffing people into jars, delivering Death, entrapping their followers into watching over some flame for eternity, running away and leaving their Lord to get backstabbed by a tyrant, this new God… healed people? Big shock!

So of course people would flock to Godfrey’s banner, believing in a Goddess that could barely fight, but soothed away all of their pain and sorrow. Sounds fucking familiar isn’t it.

Btw, why do people like to invent a bunch of authority and power for Marika then at the same breath will say whatever her kids do is to… spite her and show kindness to the oppressed?

So she is an all-powerful tyrant that could kill whoever she dislikes, and by some ppl’s standards she dislikes literally everyone in Lands Between (💀), but Godwyn could just befriend a dragon and spread a cult about them within the Capital, Messmer could have an albinauric as his Commander (to command an army that she paid wads of cash to and bless them with her hammer’s power???), Miquella and Malenia could go their merry way and build a whole ass tree castle (where is the fund. Where is the fund) and she couldn’t do anything to stop them? Even though those actions directly affect the strength of her army? What?

I swear i can’t even see other people’s Marika as Marika. Because their Marika sounds dumb as hell and a doormat too. Like what is this???? 💀 do you think i sacrificed my back and wrist to draw Elden Ring characters as beautiful as possible, so they could go be devote to someone like the Marika some of y’all envision? The bar was on the floor for you but not for me.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Nonsense

Written for the prompt "Nonsense" by Sabrina Carpenter.

Draco took another sip of his drink, letting it fizzle in his mouth and burn on its way down his throat. He steadfastly ignored the way his heart thud, thudded in his chest whenever Potter glanced up at him, the corner of his mouth ticking up as gave him a hot once-over.

The flush crept all the way up his neck and spread over his cheeks, his whole body felt too warm, tummy swooping and tingling, like he was a bloody teenager. He took another drink, trying to stay relaxed.

Pansy was talking, something about her latest flame, but he could barely keep up, hoping that his occasional nods and hums were sufficient.

And she didn't seem to notice until Potter stood up and walked past them, nodding at Draco and grinning at him, tilting his head down like he was a little shy and Draco's heart jumped into his throat as he attempted to smile back.

"Parkinson," he greeted, "Draco," he added, voice soft and warm like he'd cast a spell that tied Draco's intestines around each other.

"Hey," he breathed, shook his head. "I mean," he cleared his throat, "Potter."

Potter's grin widened and it looked for a moment like he would say something more, but then he just nodded and kept on his way to the loo.

"Well," Pansy said with a sigh, sounding unbearably bored, "go on then."

"Pardon me?"

"Go on," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "I know you've been watching him all night. It seems like he finally made his move and it's time for you to make yours."

He sniffed and took another sip of his drink, "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Right. You've no idea what I'm talking about because you've been too busy staring at Potter to listen to the words coming out of my mouth for the past hour."

And he wanted to protest, he really did, but they both knew that he had no leg to stand on. "Fine," he said, knocking back the last of his drink. "I will."

"Finally," she muttered but he didn't even dignify that with a response. He marched to the loo and opened the door, "Listen, Potter," he started, louder than he might have if he'd realized that Potter was standing at the sink, washing his hands and not in one of the stalls. "Oh."

Potter looked up at him, eyes fucking twinkling behind his glasses and Draco wanted to punch something, wanted to throw up, or bang his head against the wall, or... something. Watching Potter remain so bloody attractive while Draco fell apart was entirely infuriating. "I'm listening," Potter said, grinning even more broadly.

And Draco did the only thing that he could think to do with his tongue so tied, he lunged forward and grabbed Potter by the collar of his shirt and dragged him in to kiss him.

The water on Potter's hands soaked through Draco's shirt, but it was the furthest thing from his mind as Potter's mouth opened against his and he spun them, pressing Draco back against the sink.

His hands gripped Potter's shirt harder, pulling him in as he sank deeper into the kiss.

The other man smiled, his lips turning up at the corners and making the kiss a little awkward, but in a sweet way that Draco couldn't help but enjoy. "What?" he asked, still attempting to kiss Potter but wanting to understand that infernal grin.

"I like you," Potter said with a little shrug before he kissed Draco a little more. "I enjoy you."

"You drive me mental," Draco replied, in spite of the way that his stomach did back flips at the other man's words.

"Yeah?" he asked, still grinning.

"Yes," he grunted, all petulance and delight mixed up together. "You get my words all twisted together, you turn me into this daft idiot who can't get his head on straight."

Potter snorted, "Very convenient, seeing as I do my best not to fall for straight men."

He rolled his eyes and shoved Potter's shoulder before drawing him in closer and wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Be mine?" Potter asked. "Not just sleeping in my bed or hooking up in loos," he clarified, "actually, properly mine?"

"Is that what you actually want?" Draco asked, thinking that outcome was certainly too good to be true. "With me?"

Potter chuckled and bumped Draco's cheek with his nose, "I don't see anyone else standing in this loo with me."

He blinked, pushed back the insecurity that he felt rising in his chest, nodded once and decided to let himself have what he wanted. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'd like that."

"Alright, then."

Harry nodded. "Alright."