#as much as I love them i just want this situation to be over

[julymusings]

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is type A and suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

[orphicmusings]

“give me ten minutes and a pillow for his hips”

18+ | MDNI

its not that viktor didn’t want to devour you. take you in the almost impossible positions he’d widen his eyes at reading about when he got bored in the library, attempting to anatomically sketch it out on a napkin to visualize how it would work hastily before anyone came in and caught him flipping through an erotic novel. and he would, through the pain, it would be so worth it— if not for your gentle consideration. the one thing sexier than your dazed face looking up at him, all heated cheeks and hooded eyes, was how perceptive you were— how well you knew him, how well you saw him. you were attuned to him now, an invisible string between you. a phenomenon he could never sit down and wrap his big head around, just how connected the two of you had become that you barely needed words to communicate sometimes. like, for example, an abrupt whine sneakily covered by the clearing of his throat.

you were both excited and apprehensive when he brought up wanting to be on top tonight. you knew he would be putting pressure on his bad leg and of course you brought it up, but the way his voice dipped in velvet and wrapped around you, the lyrical lilt in his accent becoming hushed and deeper as he detailed how he wanted you under him, he wanted to take you, claim you, devour you with no inhibitions. his silver tongue won against your worried left brain, twice technically, until you heard it— the slightest change of rhythm in the strum of your little connective string.

“viktor?” you lifted your head. “what was that?”

he took a deep breath and buried his head in the crook of your neck. “nothing, darling.” he punctuated his assurance was a distracting suckle on your skin. and god, you almost gave in again, almost, but you gently tilted his head up and looked into his darkened eyes. “didn’t sound like nothing.”

damn you and your perceptive skills. he loves them so much.

another deep breath leaves him, and before he could wave it off, you press him. “it’s your leg, isn’t it?” you ask, already knowing the answer, and he can’t lie to you.

“yes.” he breathed in surrender. “i’m sorry, my love i really wanted to-what are you doing?” he frowned, watching you roll out from under him and grab one of the pillows on his bed.

“armchair, now.” you pointed to the chair across the room, with the plush ottoman in front of it that you gifted him. he couldn’t help but let a smirk pull at the corners of his mouth.

“bossy.” yet, he obeyed and made his way over to you. you gave him the pillow, instructing him to put it under his hip as he sat down, making sure his leg was elevated on the ottoman. once you got him all situated, you didn’t even have time to ask if it felt better before he was grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you like a man starved. you melted into his touch, straddling him but careful not to apply too much pressure. “so fucking sweet.” he pants the praise huskily into your mouth. “too good to me.”

his hands traveled down your body to grip your hips, pulling you flush to him. you started grinding slowly, and he guided you, a shaky breath leaving your mouth before you even got to the main event. every noise from your mouth caused a shiver to run down his spine, striking him with irrational need— he didn’t care that the things he wanted to do to you would make him scream in pain, he felt that he would simply die if he couldn’t fuck you the way he pictured it in his head right now.

but then he looks at you, just as dazed and hungry on top of him as you were under him, and a smile creeps up on him. it doesn’t matter if he were to throw you down and ravage you like a love interest in those books, or if you were softly bouncing on his length, burying your little sighs and whimpers into the crook of his neck, he’s still pleasing you. he’s still enough for you. he exhaled a smirk.

“none of that, darling.” he lifted your jaw to meet his eyes. “wanna see you and hear you. can you do that for me?” you nodded, struggling to keep your head up in the throes of pleasure, but having no trouble letting your mouth run wild with curses and praises and whines and whimpers. and it was all music to his ears. “that’s it, sweet girl.” his voice came ragged as he reached his long fingers to press on your clit. you all but screamed, tugging gently on the curls of the nape of his neck. he whined and threw his head back.

“am i hurting you?” you asked hoarsely, your hand hovering over his hair. he shook his head adamantly, taking your head and tangling it back in his hair himself. each thrust would earn a tug, and each tug would earn a pretty noise from him, causing another push to each of your edges.

“love you….” he whispered against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss against it as you both reached your peaks, breathing heavily against each other. “love you so much.”

[fledgedragonfox]

A Wizard's Will

"you know you are only supposed to have 1 apprentice maybe 2 not 15." said the wizard council member "well until people stop leaving surprisingly powerful orphans at my doorstep I'll be taking care of my 17 apprentices." The council member snapped their wand "WHERE DID YOU GET 3 MORE!"

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

Bartriol the Brown gave a very deep sigh as the council erupted around him. The Blue who had spoken was nearly frothing at the mouth as he tried to process the situation. There were no strict rules against having so many apprentices, of course. But the older members of the council were sticklers for tradition. But really, was it Bartriol’s fault that so many magically inclined children were left abandoned in his woods? No. No it wasn’t, and he’d thank you very much for not insinuating such a thing. 

“Despite Nector’s anger, he makes a valid point Bartriol.” Navester the Green chimed in. Ever calm, ever courteous. He sat smiling over his half moon glasses as he looked Bartriol over. “We as wizards have a duty to teach the next generation of wizard kind, but surely having seventeen pupils must be taxing.” He said, ever poised and soothing. All his words got him was a flat look and several groans from the blues. 

“Well, if you don’t want me to raise such bright talents by myself, find out who keeps abandoning them.” Bartriol responded as he pushed back his chair. “Meanwhile, little Wecco requested I pick up some of that nice elven taffy on my way. And Markle has that nasty cough. Really I must be off” Several members of the council tried to stop him, but Bartiol was out the door and on the back of his pet griffon before they could blink.

True to his word, Bartriol stopped by the lovely little candy shop in elven towne and bought enough taffy to feed his little army. Then he popped into the hedge witch’s for a tonic for Markle. A quick flight had him back in his clearing. A cozy cottage was tucked into the roots of a massive tree. Windows dotted the trunk, all the way up and above the treeline. His garden was green and bright even as the chills of fall were beginning to nip about. 

Laughter filled the clearing as his apprentices practiced. Some of his older ones were practicing with their newly carved staves. Nico and Scarlet were having a mock battle while Ozmund fiddled with the gemstone on the tip of his staff.  Hecubah was spending her time grooming the countless cats that had emerged from the wood to meet her. She would certainly be a brown when she was old enough for a robe. Wickle was picking blackberries for some strange concoction they were planning. 

“Master Bartriol, Master Bartriol!” A voice called out, getting closer all the time. He turned to see Baker jogging up to him. Finally reaching eighteen, Baker had only recently been given a robe. Bartriol had practically glowed as his eldest had been deemed worthy of a grey robe. “What did the council need you for?” The boy asked. Translation: “Why did the council feel the need to summon a brown rather than just come for a visit?”. Bartriol was inclined to agree. After all, Wickle and Walker had just perfected a rather scrumptious cream tart that most of the white wizards simply adored. 

“Oh, it was nothing. The blues are getting jealous I think.” Bartriol said, a twinkle in his eye. The young man was a bit confused, but his mature facade melted just as soon as the bag of taffy hit his chest. His eyes lit up like he was a child again. Bartriol didn’t linger, instead walking up the path to his home. Tossing bags of taffy left and right to be caught or fumbled by his gaggle of trouble makers. 

The inside of his cottage was just as chaotic. Mice and hedgehogs were ferrying items and ingredients from the pantry and into the kitchen. In all corners his children shrieked, played, and practiced. Wecco popped into existence with a loud crack. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates. Bartriol laughed, and complimented her on her sudden apparition, before dropping a bag of taffy in her waiting hands. She hugged him round the waist and with another loud crack was gone. 

Taffy was handed off to Bailey, Shiphand, Byrd, Terrycloth, Winona, and Lumps as he passed them by. Some of his children' s names were less than fortunate, but until they decided to change them there was nothing to be done. His children gave choruses of thanks as he smiled and commented on their studies. He ascended the stairs and made his way to the sick room, where little Markle and Westron were resting. 

“Hullo master Bartriol.” Markle said, coughing into his hand. Squella, the second eldest, and only one of his apprentices who was not of human birth, hopped onto the desk and chirped a hello. She often volunteered her time watching over her sick siblings. Bartriol was certain she would end up in a green robe before the year was out. The little borrower squeaked in pure joy at the huge bag of taffy that Bartriol sat beside her. Westron lay in bed, struggling to keep a human form. The poor lad had flesh magic, and Bartiol was still searching for a way to help him control it. 

“And how are we all doing today?” Bartriol asked, pulling out the cough syrup he’d picked up and coaxing Markle to drink some of the bitter sweet concoction. As the trio began to open up about their day. The wizard rubbed soothing circles in Westron's aching back as they talked and enjoyed their taffy. Yes the blues could kick up a fuss and complain, but really where else would the children go? It seemed to Bartriol that the blue wizards were simply jealous they hadn’t produced a single non-blue wizard in years.

While a lowly brown had produced a grey, and was well on the way to making a great splash with the rest of his apprentices. Really though, even if they hadn’t a single lick of talent for wizardry, he would still bring them in from the cold all the same. Wickle and Walker would surely be hedge witches one day with how they cooked and baked. As the pair of sicklings tired themselves out, Bartriol excused himself from Squella’s company to take a walk through the woods. It had been a good few months since Markle and Westron had come to him. It would probably be smart to check the edges of the wood just in case another little one had been left behind. 

After all, if people were going to leave surprisingly powerful orphans all alone in his woods, he might as well take care of them. Blues be damned. 

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

For anyone wondering, I do have some more ideas on how these wizards work, but for that I'll need to do a few more prompts. lol. Let me know what you think!!!

Also, figured I might as well share this again. Losing a bit of heart but well, here it is.

All of the details for the gofundme can be found on the gofundme page, I promise.

Pareon: Artemis Dragonfox Gofundme: https://gofund.me/d271f0c4

"you know you are only supposed to have 1 apprentice maybe 2 not 15." said the wizard council member "well until people stop leaving surprisingly powerful orphans at my doorstep I'll be taking care of my 17 apprentices." The council member snapped their wand "WHERE DID YOU GET 3 MORE!"

[7seas-of-ryy]

5 Years of Agony

Author’s Note: This was another unfinished draft but I loved this idea so much so I had to finish it!! This one is more fluffy than angsty even though the title makes it seem otherwise :)

Summary: You are close to everyone except Azriel and he needs to know why!

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none :)

Azriel had never been quite so unsure of himself. He had his fair share of self doubting and insecurities but for some reason, this time was just... different.

Rhys had brought you to the Night Court, saved you from an awful situation and given you a place within his own family, the inner circle. Everyone loved you, how could they not? You were caring, kind, intelligent, and the most beautiful being Az had ever seen.

You had your own separate hobbies/hang outs with everyone. Everyone except Az. You went shopping with Mor, drew with Feyre while she painted, sparred with Cass, accompanied Rhys when he went to other Courts, and even researched with Amren. But you never spent time with the Spymaster of the Night Court.

It was starting to bother Azriel, seeing as he had been trying to approach you for the 5 years you had been living there. For some reason, it felt like you were avoiding him.

The first few weeks you were at the Night Court, the shadowsinger actually thought you didn't speak ever. That is until he was talking to Cass and Rhys and they brought you up. They began to tell him how funny you were and how much they enjoyed the insightful conversations you held. It hit Az then, you just didn't talk to him.

5 years in and you've only shared a handful of words. You were kind, telling him hello and goodbye but if you two were in a shared space, you normally were together in silence. He can't even think of a time you had a conversation for more than a couple minutes.

He could only think that he was the problem...right? You got along with everyone else, maybe his shadows intimidated you. Or you just didn't like him.

You were sat in the kitchen eating your lunch when you noticed a few shadows floating in. Azriel soon followed them in and started fixing himself something to eat. He took a seat across from you and began eating. The two of you ate in silence for a bit, you looked up and he was already looking at you. He gave you a smile, trying to show there was nothing to be intimidated by. You returned it with a tiny smile of you own and looked back down at your plate.

You could feel your cheeks heating up and started to get embarrassed. Before he could notice, you quickly got up and left. A frown took over Azriel's features as he looked to the chair you were once sat in.

A few weeks later you were in the Night Court's library reading. The small area you were in was nearly pitch black, the tiny light on the desk the only light for you to read your book. You didn't want to disrupt anyone so you always chose to read there.

It wasn't the best, but at least you weren't an inconvenience. As you strained your eyes to read the last line on the page, you felt a cool shadow brush across your neck. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of who accompanied that lone tendril.

"How on Earth are you even able to read over here? There's no light!" Azriel spoke behind you.

You jumped slightly turning to look at the large male standing behind you. You placed your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating quickly from the surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," His features softened, "I happened to notice you reading over here and wanted to offer you my reading spot. It's much better than this one... no offense."

"Um... I'm okay, I don't want to be a burden-" You began to turn his offer down but he cut you off.

"It truly is no problem at all. It's out of the way, no one goes there so you won't be bothered by anyone." He tried to persuade you.

After a few moments of thinking it over, you gave him a small nod and a slight grin. He held out his hand for you to take and you hesitantly took it, winnowing to the place he wanted to share with you.

It was a gorgeous area of the library that you had never seen before. There was a small desk in front of a large wall of books. And to the right of the desk was an open balcony with the most amazing view of the mountains. The night sky was all the light you would need to read. There were long sheer curtains hanging from the ceiling and a slight cool breeze flowed through the area making it even more perfect than you thought was possible.

"Wow" was all you could whisper as you drew closer to the railing of the balcony.

Az followed close behind you, keeping his eyes on you and memorizing the look on your face.

"I come here to read or clear my head a lot. No one comes by here so please feel free to use it whenever you'd like." He softly told you.

"Thank you-" You turned around to speak to him but quickly realized how close you two were. You raised your head to look up at him, your nerves felt like they were on fire.

"Why don't you enjoy my company?" He whispered, you could feel his breath on your face.

"What are you talking about? I do." You responded just as quiet and turned back around, looking out at the mountains.

Azriel moved next to you, so close your shoulders were touching. He was silent while he enjoyed the view like you.

"You avoid me every time you see me, and you never talk to me. But you only do that to me." He spoke while staring straight ahead.

"...I..." The words got caught in your throat.

"Have I done something to offend you? Are you scared of me? Am I that awful to be with?" He quickly asked.

Your heart broke for him. How could he think any of those things would be true?

"The truth is embarrassing." You muttered, still staring at the mountains as well.

"Please, I will get on my knees and beg, just please tell me what I did wrong. This has been the hardest 5 years of my life." The feared spymaster pleaded with you.

"It's so stupid" you muttered, "...when I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful male I had ever seen. I was so intimidated, I literally choked on my words."

You could see his head snap to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you didn't look at him. You were so embarrassed, your face must have been blood red by this time.

"I was terrified I was going to embarrass myself by saying something stupid so I stayed quiet. Only, that never went away and I thought too much time had passed for me to change how I was."

There was a long moment of silence, then Azriel started to laugh...hard. He was full out belly laughing, you had never heard him do that before.

You couldn't help but crack a smile at the sound.

"So you're telling me, I've been killing myself over this for 5 years. Thinking I did something to hurt you, only for the real reason to be you think I'm attractive??" He said through laughs.

"I am truly relieved, oh darling.." He drifted off as he saw the mortified look on your face.

"When I first met you, I thought you were the most stunning being I had ever seen. Then the first time I heard you talk, I thought I needed to hear that voice every single day. The first time I saw you spar Cass, I thought you were the most breathtaking warrior I had ever seen. I hope you understand what I mean by all of this." He spoke, getting softer as he went on.

Looking over to the male next to you, you urged him to go on.

"If Cass stopped talking to me for five years, I would consider myself blessed. If Rhys stopped talking to me for five years, I would be a little concerned but appreciate the quiet. You, a female I have never met before, avoid me for five years and it felt as if my heart was being pulled out through my chest." He confessed as his shadows swirled like crazy.

"Well, if I knew you were in agony I would have swallowed my pride and talked to you." You told him with a slight smirk.

He rewarded you with a stunning smile.

"I suppose I should've confessed my love for you a while ago then, hm?" He stated smoothly, stepping closer to you.

"That was you professing your love?" You teased him.

"I can do it again if you'd like." He told you as he raised his hand to tuck some hair behind your ear.

You gazed into his eyes, saying nothing.

"I would very much like to kiss you right now but I think a gentleman would take you on a date to get to know you more first." He whispered, so close it felt as if your breath was one with his.

"Well I mean, you have known me for five years." Your voice unwavering.

Azriel's pupils were blown wide at your words and he wasted no time wrapping his fingers in your hair and pulling you in.

"You're such a tease." He whispered before his lips touched yours.

It was soft at first, then it turned hungry as Az realized what he had been missing all this time. His kisses turned sloppy, trailing down your neck before he pulled away.

"If I don't stop now, I don't think I ever will." He spoke, his lips brushing over the skin of your neck.

"Then don't." You moaned out.

Azriel groaned into your neck, already craving more of you.

"You're gonna be the death of me." He muttered as his lips started moving against your skin once again.

[hellsslibrary]

there is literally not a single thought in my head other than wanting to spoil reo or isagi ROTTEN in bed. they’re just so sweet taking care of everyone around them and now it’s their turn to be taken care of. i just need to praise and shower them in love.

The sweetest things in the world deserve the most mind-blowing pleasure and comfort.

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : they really deserve it, right!! Isagi after the last chapters of the manga especially... My poor boys :(

!!Warnings: top!SOFTdom!male!reader, pillow princesses!Reo and Isagi, praise (very much), fingering, anal sex, protected(!) sex, nipples play, Reo has a boobs(idk, I just want to squeeze his pecs), crying, many kisses, pretty wholesome.

Isagi Yoichi.

"Hey? How are you feeling, baby? Is everything okay, hmm?" your voice is gently carried over his ear, to which he can only nod and mumble something unintelligible. "Come on, say something."

Isagi swallows dryly, looking at you with eyes clouded by lust, love, and the sensations of the previous two orgasms, and barely whispers: "Ye-yes, [Your name], just fine... Although... A l-little slower?"

Your thrusts become slower on an almost instinctive level, but they remain just as deep to make sure that you constantly hit the sweet spot that your sweet boy NEEDS.

Until his brain melts, until he forgets all the players on his and someone else's team, until he forgets why he was mad at them... Until the very word football disappears from his brain.

"Great, baby, whatever you say. Anything else?" he just whimpered at your question, trying to get his brain to work for at least five seconds by grabbing the sheets next to his head while he looked at you with teary eyes.

"...Hug?" Yoichi practically hisses, coughing a couple of times, your thrusts immediately slow down, which is why he closes his eyes, opening them only when he feels a drop of water on his lips.

"Drink it, honey, come on," you gently press the neck of the open bottle against his lips and he greedily gulps down the cool liquid until you remove the half-empty bottle from his lips.

You kiss him on the cheek, leaning over his body. Your chest is pressed against his chest, and his arms immediately wrap around your shoulders, squeezing you. You resume your thrusts, lifting his hips slightly to increase the angle of the thrusts.

You can hear him sobbing into your hair, moaning with every thrust, while you kiss his neck and chin, leaving hickeys there from time to time. The way his tears run down your hair. The way his fingers dig into your back, even though your thrusts aren't that hard. The way his cock twitches against your stomach.

You feel every cell. Every dangerously pressed part of his body against your own. Even the way his heart beats, which is exactly like your own rhythm.

"Fuck, so tight... Such a good boy, you take me so well. Do you think you can cum again?"

Isagi hardly hears your words, he just feels with his being that this is something pleasant and his cheeks turn even more red as he tries to figure out if his body can take more.

"Yeah..?"

He mutters, biting his lower lip, not sure if he can. But at least he'll try, for your sake. Although in this situation, you obviously won't be satisfied with such a sacrifice.

"Are you sure? I don't want to overexcite you, honey," your lips touch his lips to stop him from gnawing on his bottom one.

His hips immediately move up, and his hands tangle in your hair as he responds to a slow, almost savoring kiss from your side. The beautiful blue eyes close and a couple more tears flow out of them.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure... Just don't stop, please?" he chirps between kisses, biting your tongue in the process, which makes you pull away, looking at his sweetest face, and then wiping the tears from his eyes.

If he wants something, he'll get it.

Reo Mikage.

"Please, please, m-my love... Please," Reo bubbles, tilting his head back while he sat on your lap.

All you've been doing for the last fifteen minutes is finger him, and your mouth is literally glued to his nipple, as it seemed to Reo. Your hand felt his chest, as if he had tits, as if there was something to knead except muscles, although you didn't really care.

"Relax, I want you to completely relax," you whisper as your tongue runs over his nipple, and with the tip you deliberately press on the hollow in his nipple, forcing him to squeeze your thighs harder.

"I would have relaxed faster if you hadn't been pretending to be a newborn," Reo chuckles softly, biting his lips with the pleasure of your long fingers inside him, moving so smoothly and precisely where he needs them.

You just smile back, moving to the other nipple, which makes Reo moan, arching his back, and one of his hands gets tangled in your hair.

You can feel his hips moving slightly on your lap, trying to make your thrusts with your fingers even deeper, while his mouth opens in quiet, almost inaudible moans and rare praises from his lips to motivate you to continue.

"The main thing is that you feel good. What difference does it make how I behave? You like it," he just smiles at these words, but nods convulsively when your fingers poke exactly the spongy point that he needs.

"That's right... So just keep going, yeah?" Reo exhales, pushing his head back, and then shudders slightly as he feels you lowering him onto the bed, hovering over him in the same position.

His fingers grab your shoulders, trying to hold you in place, on his chest, not that you're going to run away, of course. His hips lazily moved to the beat of your fingers, trying to push them even deeper, although doing nothing to do so.

Your free hand squeezed one of his pecs, massaging that hard but pleasant muscle, stroking the pink, hard bump on it with the tip of your tongue, causing his purple eyes to close, fluttering.

His sweet sounds echoed throughout the room as his body lay flat on the soft pillows, allowing you to do whatever you want for his own pleasure. Reo wanted to cry just from the thought that you were completely focused on his pleasure, even if it didn't look like it considering how hard you were sucking on his chest.

But it warmed him up like hell, and he did... He wanted the same thing.

"Can I do something for you too? I'm embarrassed that you're aroused without any friction," Reo asks, kissing the top of your head, making you finally pull away from his nipple, which makes him sigh softly as the cold hits his wet nipple.

"Stay down, Mr. Mikage. Relax, stop thinking about your humble servant," you smirk, kissing his fingers on your face, and then bending down and kissing him, causing his body to melt instantly.

Although he immediately twitched when he felt a third finger enter him and he hit you on the shoulder, throwing his head back with a loud half moan, half sob.

"Warn me next time..." Reo whispers, frowning, even though she doesn't do anything to stop you.

He just lies there relaxed, letting all thoughts disappear from his pretty little head, watching as your mouth cups his nipple again and just sighs contentedly.

[flickering-chandelier]

The Wolves

Pairing: Mob Boss Azriel x Secretary Reader

Summary: As requested, the sequel to To Love a Beast! Reader and Azriel are figuring out how to navigate their new lives together, but disaster strikes when the wrong person finds out about them being together.

Warnings: light smut, kidnapping (not graphic)

Word Count: 2.1k

Azriel let himself into your apartment as you were making dinner. He smirked at you, leaning down to kiss your cheek, and handing you a paper shopping bag with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“What’s this?” you laughed, setting down your wooden spoon and putting the cover on your pan of food on the stove.

“Open it,” he smiled, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. 

He watched your face intently, his heart warming, his excitement growing as you reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of lacy black panties. 

You grinned, your smile lighting up your whole face. “You really did get me new ones.”

“I owed you, several times over,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “There’s more in there, you know.”

You laughed as you pulled out several more, all different colors and styles. “You didn’t need to get me this much, Az!”

He shrugged, kissing down your neck, “I want to spoil you. Plus, this way, I won’t feel bad when I keep ripping them off you.”

You leaned into him, your head falling back against his chest. “You’re ridiculous,” you teased. 

Az kissed your forehead and watched your nose crinkle as you smiled. Fuck, how had you turned him into such a softie?

His hands slid from your stomach down your sides suggestively. 

“Dinner’s ready in a few minutes,” you scolded him gently. 

“We can get a lot done in a few minutes,” Azriel murmured, his voice low, his lips brushing your ear. 

You made that little noise from the back of your throat that meant you wanted him, and he was about to pick you up and settle you on the counter when your timer went off. You pulled away from him to turn it off and started dishing out pasta for the both of you. 

Raising your eyebrow at him playfully, you handed him the plate and sat down at the table. He kissed you on the head again before he sat down across from you, “Thanks for dinner, babe.”

“Mmhmm,” you said happily around your fork. 

He smiled as he watched you, his fingers itching to get back on you.

But then his phone rang. 

You both groaned, and he watched your face fall as he fished his phone out of his pocket. 

“Yeah?” he said in greeting. 

“We need you out here, boss. We’ve gotten into a bit of a… situation.”

He rolled his eyes, his eyes softening in apology as he looked at you, who had so sweetly made dinner for him.

“On my way,” he said, and hung up, already moving towards you, kissing you. “I’m sorry,” he said to you.

“It’s okay. Just get back safe,” you said sadly, your eyes shining with love as you watched him go. 

“Promise,” he said, shrugging back into his jacket. 

And then he was gone.

---

You sighed, pushing the pasta around your plate in your silent apartment. Your heart hurt every time he left, every time he put himself in danger for the Family.

The two of you were still a secret, and you couldn’t help but be hurt by that. You loved him, you knew. It seemed like he loved you, too, but how could you be sure, when he was unwilling to tell anyone about you?

You understood, of course. It was dangerous, having a weakness. And you knew you certainly had become a weakness for Azriel. 

He didn’t want anyone to be able to put you in danger for leverage against him, and you appreciated it, of course you did. But you hated having to hide your affection for him at work, sick of sneaking around all day and all night. 

But, what could you do?

Anxiously, you waited for hours, finally tucking yourself into bed and waiting for Azriel to return.

---

It was completely dark by the time Azriel had cleaned up the situation and made his way back to you. He was exhausted, starving, and pissed that his evening with you had been ruined. 

He let himself into your apartment, and his heart warmed when he saw you had left a plate out for him. He heated up the food and ate quickly before quietly going into your room, stripping down to his underwear, and sliding into bed beside you. 

You let out a little noise as you woke up, molding your body against his, wrapping your arms around him. “Everything okay?”

“It is now,” he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair back from your face. 

“You’re in one piece?” you asked, your voice laced with sleep.

“Pretty sure,” he teased. 

Satisfied, you snuggled into him, and his hand slowly wandered down to squeeze your ass. He smirked when he realized you were wearing a pair of the new panties under your t-shirt. 

You let out a quiet moan, leaning your head back to expose your neck to him. 

Without wasting any time, he dipped his head, sensuously kissing your neck as your hand wandered down, cupping him outside of his boxers. 

He had to bite back a groan. Nobody had ever affected him the way you do. He pulled your shirt up over your head, his mouth trailing down your chest, his teeth scraping your nipple playfully. You arched your back to get closer to him, and he couldn’t imagine being happier as the two of you moved together, reading each other’s bodies perfectly. 

Azriel hoped he would always feel like this.

Azriel felt your eyes on him as he moved around the office, giving orders, sending people out to do the Family’s bidding. 

When everyone else had gone, he sidled up behind you, gently massaging your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

You leaned into his touch, but somewhat reluctantly. “Careful, you wouldn’t want anyone to see,” you said with a hint of sarcasm. 

He pulled back, looking at you questioningly. “You okay?”

Shrugging your shoulders slightly and sitting up straighter so his hands would fall away, you nodded. “Yep.”

“Babe-”

“You should go,” you cut him off. “You have work to do.”

He rounded the desk to face you, resting his palms on the desk, leaning down to meet your eyes. “What’s going on?”

Sighing, you said, “I’m just sick of hiding us.”

He hadn’t even known this had been on your mind. “You know why we have to keep it a secret,” he said gently. “It’s dangerous, sweetheart. If anyone knew, you would immediately become a target. The wolves will come for you.”

“If your enemies knew,” you corrected. “You don’t trust your own men?”

“I don’t fully trust anyone but you,” he said truthfully. “Information can easily slip unintentionally, or be beaten out of people. You know that.” 

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. He gently ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am. But I won’t risk you.”

Your eyes were sad when you opened them, but you nodded bravely. “I know.”

His hand was still on your cheek when the door opened. He stood up abruptly and turned around to face it. 

It was one of his men, of course, Jason,  looking slightly surprised. Azriel smoothly took a step toward him. “What is it?”

Azriel barely heard his request for help, couldn’t see past the curious expression he wore when Azriel spun around. He had seen Azriel’s hand on your face, had seen how intimate the gesture was. 

He knew.

Azriel didn’t leave Jason’s side that day. He was trying to decide if he should mention what he had seen, if he should try to explain himself. Or if he should just leave it alone. 

Jason himself didn’t mention it. 

It worried Azriel. Jason could be a bit of a wildcard. He was honestly the last person Azriel would choose to know about his feelings for you. But talking about it could make everything so much worse. 

He cursed himself for being so careless, and hoped against hope that he was doing the right thing.

---

Days later, you anxiously waited for Azriel to show up at your apartment. He had been on edge ever since Jason had walked in on the two of you in the office. You honestly weren’t entirely convinced that he had even seen anything, but you knew that Azriel was extremely worried about it. 

You checked your phone for the time. Azriel should have been here by now, but it wasn’t too unusual for him to get caught up in something before he could make it to you.

When the door opened, your heart leaped in excitement. 

But it quickly fell into your stomach as you realized with a start that it wasn’t Azriel who had burst through your apartment.

---

Azriel was not having a good day. Due to Jason’s incompetence, he had been running around the city all day trying to prevent an even bigger mess. 

He couldn’t wait to have a quiet night in with you and temporarily forget about all of his problems.

The hair on the back of his neck rose in trepidation as he stepped into your empty apartment. It wasn’t like you to be out when you knew he was coming over. 

Within a few moments of entering, he spotted your purse on the kitchen counter, your phone on the couch, and knew that something was horribly wrong. 

He had been in the business for a long time, had obviously been angry many times, but he had never felt rage and panic quite like this before.

Immediately, he was out the door, on the phone. He knew exactly what was happening. He knew exactly who was to blame. 

“What the fuck did you do?” he barked over the phone. 

Jason had the audacity to act confused, bumbling out a useless response that Azriel had no time for. 

“She’s gone, do you understand?” Azriel shouted over him. “Who did you tell?”

Azriel’s hands were shaking, but he couldn’t stop them. As soon as Jason answered, he hung up, going as fast as his car would take him.

---

Your heart hammered in your ears, the cloth in your mouth silencing you was becoming uncomfortable, the zip ties holding your hands behind your back digging into your skin. Despite this, you tried to stay calm. You knew Azriel would be coming over tonight. He would come for you, you knew he would. 

The timing though, you hoped he would get right. 

Holding your head high, you were thankful that you didn’t have to wait long until Azriel burst through the door, his nostrils flared, the veins in his neck pulsing, his eyes flooding with relief as his eyes landed on you. 

You shut your eyes as Azriel took down the man who had taken you. 

It was really only a matter of moments before Azriel’s hands were gently pulling the cloth out of your mouth. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes raking your body, looking for any injuries. 

You shook your head, finding yourself unable to speak, willing yourself to keep the tears at bay. 

“Oh god I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice wavering as he gently cut the ties holding back your hands. “I’m so sorry.”

Again, you were shaking your head, willing him to understand that it wasn’t him, that you didn’t blame him for a second. 

Quickly, he wrapped his arms around you and ushered you out of the building. You were thankful he was holding most of your weight, as you still felt numb. 

You had never seen Azriel like that, had never seen him so full of fear. You hoped you would never see it again. 

---

Azriel was thankful when your breathing had become deeper and you had finally fallen asleep in his arms. 

It had taken a long time for you to settle down, for your body to stop shaking. 

He was so thankful that he had gotten to you in time, that nothing worse had happened. He would deal with Jason in the morning, but for now, he was glad that he had you here with him, that you were safe. 

For now, it would have to be enough.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria @marina468

[heylittleriotact]

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the majority of death care professionals I’ve worked with have some sort of fucked up mortician-origin-story and got into funerals in the first place to either try and demystify death or cope with their trauma by constantly exposing themselves to it, and that’s literally what Emmrich has done his entire life and it’s why I love him so much.

Under the cut for some pretty raw death talk, including infant death, because fuck it - there’s a reason this pixel man lives rent free in my head and I’m about to get personal.

My Mom very unexpectedly and traumatically lost a full term pregnancy when I was 7. The first corpse I ever saw or touched was my dead sister. The first baby I held in my arms was dead.

What the fuck do you mean she’s dead? Why is she dead? She’s a baby. Babies don’t die. Old people die. Bad guys in movies die. Babies don’t.

And then from there it was like… months of infuriating and condescending bullshit from well-meaning people just wanting to reconcile with something that can’t really be reconciled with: people said a lot of stuff to me like, “it was God’s plan” or, “it wasn’t meant to be” or, “at least she didn’t suffer” or “God needed her more” and loads of other trite bullshit in the same vein, and it really, really fucked with me as a child.

I watched it destroy my already unstable mother and cause her to take out her complicated grief on me - her abusive tendencies sharply escalated after the loss. I think she resented me. I think she resented seeing how much the loss hurt me and felt that I had no right to be as upset as I was. I think she didn’t know how to support a grieving child when she didn’t even have the tools to support herself.

I felt so isolated and confused. I became obsessed with death and heaven and angels and the idea of a soul, and as I got older, I couldn’t let go of the belief that no child - or person for that matter - should have to go through what I did.

So I became a funeral director. Because if I could help one child in a horrific situation feel seen and validated, then I’d made a difference. If I could help one despondent mother towards the right resources, or even just fucking make her feel seen and validated too, maybe she’d wind up in a better place than mine did.

I wanted to say fuck you to death. I wanted to prove my defiance by helping the living people left behind pick up the pieces. I wanted to learn to handle the unavoidable, permanent, unfeeling existence of death with the cautious reverence that one would employ when handling a venomous snake. And I did. I helped a lot of people and it fed my soul in insurmountable ways.

I became that weird death obsessed friend who couldn’t talk about anything EXCEPT funerals and death and souls and embalming and what happens to your body when you die. If you had a curious question about death or funerals? I would jump on the chance to answer it for you. Needed help with the loss of a loved one? I’ve gotchu. I became The Death Guy (I guess I still kind of am - I’m still happy to front questions and help friends and family navigate death and funerals because the knowledge is all still there.)

Eventually it became a great way for me to bury other traumas that happened to me (an abusive childhood, sexual assault and all sorts of abuse at the hands of a partner) and just not really deal with them because I couldn’t: I didn’t have time to deal with my own shit because other people needed help more than me. After all, they were dealing with a death. My own problems were small in comparison, right?

It all caught up with me after living and working through the nightmare that was COVID, and I burnt out super hard, had a small breakdown, hit the sauce super hard for awhile, and developed a lovely anxiety disorder and full blown insomnia. Counselling and a career change have helped immensely, but yeah…

I obsess over this old man as much as I do because I see a lot of my own shit and insecurities and fears and unhealthy coping mechanisms in him, and I just want everything to be okay for him, because it ended up being okay for me. It just took a lot of fucking work to get there.

To be gifted a character as complex and real as Emmrich is some once in a lifetime shit, and I’m so glad he exists. Get his ass to therapy.

I'm glad we agree that Emmrich has an absolutely unconscionable amount of rizz. However, I also have a great appreciation for his proficiency at the great honored pastime of Being A Fucking Weirdo. My man goes to work at the Death Factory every single day and copes with his deep deep fear of dying by?? Cosplaying a skeleton? Taash was NOT WRONG when they called him the corpse guy. Even amongst other necromancers, he is THEE corpse guy! His best friend is a skeleton and he hasn't left the Cemetary Where He Lives for years. He is 90% ookie spooks and 10% bisexual disaster man. The only reason he's so suave and smooth is because the ookie spooks are actually load-bearing and manage to utterly obscure what a nervous wreck he is at all times of day. It's hard to give into the existential dread when you're spending all of your time saying shit like, "The tapestry of the Fade holds many threads."

I just know that this man is holding back the mother of all existential crises. He all but has it after he yoinks Rook out of the Fade but he bottles it back up so quick you KNOW that wasn't the whole thing. You KNOW that Rook is going to wake up in the middle of the night six months after Elgar'nan bites it and there Emmrich will be, lich or not, staring blankly at the ceiling and saying, "Darling, what does it all mean?" Emmrich Volkarin is a sexy, sexy man who needs therapy and some sleep and maybe an extended sabbatical from Dead People University.

[gyaruhana]

hi, may I request a fluff with player 246 where they met at the park he’s working at? Maybe the reader finds his daughter crying and tries to comfort her—and that’s how they meet? I’m so desperate for a fic about him😭 —thank you

Player 246 - love at first sight

Synopsis: you find a young girl crying and make an attempt to comfort her. Soon after, you meet the father

A/N: I luv luv luv this idea !! Also love him he was such a sweetheart in squid game and he deserved better😪💔

Warnings: none

Work was boring and tiring per usual. The day was hot and you couldn't help think how grateful you were to not be one of the people who had to march around in full body costumes handing out lollipops. You could guess they were sweating up a storm underneath with the current level of heat produced by the glaring sun.

However, cleaning up the rubbish scattered everywhere by not-so-polite park goers was a real pain in the ass too. This was really the last place you'd want to be on a Saturday afternoon but it paid the bills so you refrained from complaining too much.

You were currently walking around the park on the look out for any trash that wasn't in one of the many bins in the park when something else had caught your attention. From a distance, you could hear the sound of a child crying and, while you were used to those sorts of sounds, you were still tempted to check who it was just in case a child had gotten separate from their family. Accidents like that happen all the time, after all.

You headed towards the sound and managed to find a young girl with a strawberry hat who was crying her heart out in a small secluded alleyway. You didn't see any parents so you were immediately concerned for the girl, worried that she had gotten lost and was now scared.

"Hey, it's okay. Do you need help finding your parents?" You ask with a soft tone as you walk up to her and kneel down in front of her. She looked at you and nodded her head as tears continued to pour from her eyes. She was clearly in distress and it made your heart ache to see a young girl cry like this.

"Okay, we'll go find them, yeah? It's okay. I'm sure they're waiting for you," you say as you reach your arms out, inviting her to be carried by you. You had dealt with many cases where children had gotten lost so you already knew how to deal with situations like this. The main priority was always to keep the child calm and reassure them they'd find their parents because 9/10 times, they are reunited with their parents.

The young girl nodded her head before allowing you to pick her up in your arms. You stood up as you kept a gentle hold on her before turning around and walking out of the small alley, your eyes peeled for any distressed parent searching around. As if on cue, a voice suddenly rung out as if calling out for someone. You could easily guess that the voice belonged to whoever the parent of this young girl was.

You looked around before your eyes landed on a guy looking around in a nervous panic. His face was filled with worry and you didn't think twice before walking straight to him. As if sensing his daughter nearby, his head turned to you and the look on his face immediately turn to relief mixed in with a little bit of concern. He walked over to you with a quick pace, eager to have his daughter in his arms again.

"na-yeon, are you okay?" He asks as he takes his daughter from your arms gently. He seemed evidently stressed out that his daughter may have gotten hurt or that something else may have happened to her. "She's okay. She's just a little scared after getting lost," you say with a reassuring smile. He glances at you before giving a small smile back, grateful that you had gotten his daughter back to him.

"Thank you a lot," he says with genuine appreciation for you. "It's no problem. Parents lose their kids all the time here. You aren't the first and you won't be the last," you respond. He laughs a little when you say that and looks away nervously. Before, he hadn't been paying much attention to you because he was hyper-focused on making sure his daughter was okay. Now though.. he was starting to realize how pretty you were.

"But still, be more careful next time. I can't always be a knight in shining armor," you say somewhat seriously but still making a joke so as to keep the mood light. He nodded his head in response and finally looked back at you.

"Don't worry, I won't. Thank you again," he said as he gave you a small bow before turning around and walking away. He wished he hadn't walked away so easily but, embarrassingly enough, he was pretty sure he was blushing now and he didn't want you to see that. He couldn't crush on someone he just met. Even so, he could still feel his heart beating just a little faster than usual and it definitely wasn't from fear this time.

You watched him walk off and let out a sigh before shaking your head in disappointment. He wasn't the only who wanted to keep talking. You did too because there was definitely something so endearing about him and the care he holds for his daughter. That look of pure worry on his face even after he found his daughter..

"God, I hope I see him again,"

[meanbossart]

Sorry if you’ve already answered this, but I’ve been wondering what would happen if DU Drow and Astarion were the only people in their party. If they never met any of the others and only had each other for company on the way to Baldur’s Gate.

Btw I love your art! I’m obsessed with the way you draw characters and their expressions in your style.

Ohhhhh god. I think that would be disastrous.

My personal belief aside that Astarion is by no means an idiot (not that I'm opposed to participating in the smooth-brained jokes - but, generally speaking, I think I might give his intellect more props than most), he is obviously not at his best at the start of the campaign at all. He is operating out of desperation and it's only halfway through the game that you get to see some of that emotional intelligence that I'm so fond of. And even so, he still requires a successful persuasion check at the end of his quest not to commit undead genocide (and I think he's the only companion who needs a check at all regardless of circumstance or approval).

Then we have DU drow who has no attachments to anyone around him, a penchant for murder, very little skill for self reflection and a proclivity towards latching onto one person and falling obsessively in love, assuming that the person in question knows how to play him - and Astarion would know how to play him.

Lest we forget, Astarion had practically no influence on DU drow's decision to oppose Bhaal. He just kind of goes along for the ride until you hit the point of no return, and only THEN he's like "Oh, uh, maybe this wasn't such a good idea". Shadowheart is the biggest factor on DU drow's decision to oppose Bhaal, with Aylin and Jaheira making for honorable mentions.

Ironically, DU drow's "base" personality (which he has access to thanks to his memory loss) tends to oppose religion, gods, and organized systems as a whole, but I think if it were only him and Astarion alone, they would feed each other's hunger for strength and power enough that DU drow would arrive into act 3 with absolutely no doubt about what he must do. He would very easily revert back to his old, domineering personality and do whatever he thinks he must to establish his status, and most importantly his power over his loved ones, lest what happened with Orin ever repeat itself.

This circumstance would be perfect for the eventual Bhaalist DU Drow + Spawn Astarion scenario. Which just makes it all the worse that Astarion would have had a HEAVY hand in steering him in this direction. And the cherry on top; he has no one else to turn to here.

On the flipside - this could potentially turn into a situation where Astarion keeps DU drow small enough to where he's able to Ascend, while his Bhaalspawn partner either refuses his father out of fear or loses the duel against Orin. I don't know how viable this is, since Astarion very much needs a strong and confident DU drow if he wants Cazador to die - but I guess anything is possible.

The point is, if left to their own devices there would be nothing stopping either of them from pursuing their very single-minded goals, and I don't think there's a scenario they BOTH come out on top either. Between DU drow's obsessive behavior and been-burned-before attitude, and Astarion's distrust and fear of losing control again, they would constantly wrestle for the opportunity to keep the other under their own thumbs.

And hell. All of this assuming they didn't kill each other on night two.

Thank you for the ask and for your kind words! Hopefully this isn't too depressive/disappointing of an answer, LOL.

[fishnapple]

12 months forecast for your 2025

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

WILLOW

January: You will start the year with planning and preparation for the months ahead. You have the resources and opportunities to make whatever plan you're having into a reality. The year starts bountifully, you might receive some money or see your financial situation getting better.

February: Lots of gatherings, family, friends, colleagues. This will be a social month for you. You will meet, work with, and care for many people. Family responsibilities could be the focus of this month. Home decoration or cleaning will be the idea you entertain.

March: Continuing from February, you will need to take steady steps this month. Things might move slowly for you. Consider things carefully before making a decision, especially one involving finance, health, family or your living space. You will want to work hard, to get over the grind, steady wins the race.

April: It seems your effort of the previous months will finally reach a conclusion. Maybe a project will end and now you can celebrate and relax more. This month will also be about socialising, but of the celebratory kind, you might go to a fair, a concert or somewhere with lots of people to have fun.

May: As you relax more into May, your emotional space will also expand and be more open. Leaving the door open to let more opportunities for connecting come in. A new bud of attraction will be there. You feel that you're ready to give and receive love and affection.

June: The bud of attraction will bloom in this month, you will meet a person that you find very compatible with you, or you will have the opportunity to get to know someone on a deeper level and feel a new attraction towards them. For some of you, a connection will take the next step, commitment will be offered.

July: Summer will be a joyful period for you. You will feel very inspired this month and begin to envision more plans for the future. You're excited to start, but this month should be spent for building a picture in your mind about the things you want to do with careful details rather than jumping straight into action.

August: This is when you need to start putting your plan into action. This will be a prime time for you to build more structure in your life, take more control and be more responsible, you might also be put in the position of authority or be the one who makes major decisions. You will need to be firm and stay clear headed, because someone or something will create a distraction for you.

September: The result of your actions in the previous month will show itself in this month. It will feel like a reward. You will feel emboldened to do many things that you've been shy to do. Life seems much more lively and colourful for you. You could hear some joyful news or you just feel generally in good spirit.

October: As the months get colder, your spirit will also cool down a little bit. Maybe the good news of September will now make you feel doubtful, you need to reconsider some choices. You could have a tense situation with someone and you don't know how to solve it successfully, it seems whatever you do, the outcome would be the same, so you will hold off making a move in this period.

November: You will become much clearer headed in decisive. You might lean on your rational side more when it comes to approaching situations. You will think you need to cut something out of your life. It might not feel good, but it's necessary. Someone will act a little cold or less emotional, they will judge the actions of other people. This person could be you, but I feel it's likely someone else, they might be older than you.

December: The way you act in November will help make this month more light for you. You will be in good spirit again, ready for a new year, with many things you want to execute. I see many hangouts with friends. You will have the opportunity to freely share your feelings and what you've been looking forward to. I also see a concert, lots of singing and talking.

ROSE

January: New year will mark a new transition for you. The cold weather will leave you feeling a little chilly inside. You might have to give up or change something that you've been familiar with for so long. But you realise that it no longer serves your growth, so you want to change. Travel could be possible for some of you, to go on a trip to heal or to get away from the stress you've been feeling.

February: You will feel a little uncertain about the change you made in January, you feel like you're going blind into an unknown future. But the freedom of endless possibilities entice you to keep going. You might find yourself suddenly being interested in a new project, a new hobby, or anything new, really. Some people will be there to welcome you to the new stage of your life.

March: The feeling of uncertainty still lingers, if not even more heavy than before. You keep being distracted by all the things going around you, your mind is unclear in this month, being too occupied by mundane tasks and respite. You will feel like there's not a moment of rest for you, that you're stuck in this endless cycle.

April: You will have more time to clear your mind and think things through carefully. You're unstuck and will now put on your thinking cap to strategise. A new information will arrive to help you. Every puzzle piece will fall into place, you will know what you need to do. This is the best time to make a decision or to start learning something.

May: You will make slow progress this month, but the faith has been restored, you now have solid goals that you will be working towards, no matter how slow it it. Avoid the urge to compare, just focus on your current work.

June: Help and support will come to you. You're not alone in your journey. A woman or someone with motherly qualities will help you. Children might be around. Also, you need to take care of your stomach and be mindful of what you take into your body.

July: I wonder if the person who appears in June will be someone whom you feel attracted to. You're a lot more inspired and joyful this month, like a new creative energy is blooming. Making yourself appear attractive to that person or just people in general.

August: There are several possibilities here. One is that you will get to see the results of your hard work and actions of the previous months. The other is that you will want to consider returning the favour. If there is something unresolved between you and another person, you will likely want to solve that unfinished business this month. The thought about commitment will also be heavy on your mind.

September: Whatever action you choose to take in August, it will have a positive effect on this month. You will feel fulfilled and happy. Maybe you will establish a more solid connection with the person you're attracted to. There could be a trip to somewhere with lots of water.

October: If you decide to commit to someone, this will be the topic of gossip for some people. Also, your work and what you're doing will be scrutinised. Don't let people's words get to you.

November: There could be a conflict this month. Either with the people who don't have great opinions about your life or an inner conflict. You want to do many things, but they all require your time and effort, so you will need to prioritise more.

December: A surprise or a secret awaits you this month. You could be aware of it through your own detective work or through divination. If an elderly woman gives you some guidance and advice, you should listen to her.

DOLPHIN

January: You might not start the new year with much of a celebratory mood. Someone might do you wrong, and you feel really stuck in the feeling of hurt and fear. You feel like you have the worst luck and need to be wary of the people around you.

February: But you will recover from this month, a new day has arrived. You no longer feel stuck anymore, you will slowly gain back your confidence. You will snap out of the blaming mode and start to take care of yourself more.

March: In an effort to turn the wheel, you might bite more than you can chew in this month. Avoid taking on many things at once. If you feel it's too much, best to ask for help. Don't be in a hurry and running when you're holding something.

April: The busy mood of the previous month will prompt you to take up learning management skills or skills that help you be more efficient.

May: Beware that someone might go behind your back, or try to trick you when you leave the door open. Selfish motives are there. You will want to be more discreet and not disclose your plans to people too openly. Some actions are best taken silently. Also, there can be a bad influence from someone, even if they are not intentional, you need to examine what you're doing with them is truly good for you or not.

June: A success or happy story will inspire you to make changes. You want to learn from examples, but you feel like you still have a long way to go. Be in nature will inspire you more.

July: You will be more relaxed and do things at a more leisurely pace this month. Though generally feeling good, you might be putting off making some major decisions, wanting to just enjoy the present moment.

August: Now the decisions can't be put off any longer. You will have to make a choice. The choice might be related to an emotional matter. It's not a heavy choice, and you're calm. You can listen to other's takes but don't take them to heart too deeply. It's important that you make this choice yourself.

September: You will decide to be bold in this month. Ready to offer your affection. You could start a new friendship or enjoy talking to someone more this month. Companionship is the highlight.

October: Festive feeling. You will feel more connected to people in general and want to go out more. Picnics, camping, and parties are around the corner. You will also feel the urge to join a community, a different world from your usual interactions. The community could be about shared interest, you will feel that you really belong there.

November: A new opportunity for financial gain or career achievement is there. It may be something you've been eyeing for a while but feel too unprepared for. But in this month, you will feel just right, that you're capable of more. Cooking and eating will bring a lot of joy to you.

December: You are finally able to grasp what you wished for and more. This chance is fleeting and doesn't come often, so be sure to keep your eyes open and catch it. You will also feel more playful and adventurous, so take good care of your health to enjoy this moment.

CORAL

January: Someone will be there to support you, they're generous and very warm. When you feel uncertain and frail, they will give you the right dose of affection that will get your strength back. In turn, when you see people who are in the same difficult situation as yours, you will want to act similar to that supportive person.

February: You will get inspired by the person from January and want to emulate their way of living. You look up to this person and want to chart your life in the same direction as theirs. This month will be a crucial step that can determine the course of the following months for you.

March: You will look around to see what you're lacking, what needs to be improved, what you have, what you can offer. Though you feel that you're not yet at a comfortable level, you're hopeful. You might embark on a new journey in this month with a mentality of a student, still have many things to learn.

April: Whatever you're doing, some people will not react kindly to that. You might face ridicule or outright bullying behaviour. Being timid and silent won't help you in this case, you're asked to stand up for yourself more.

May: Either you're fed up and start to come to your power, or someone with more power will intervene and protect you. Their energy is very soft yet protective. You're safe with them. Similarly, you will want to nurture a softer side of yours, let your ideas feel safe enough to run freely.

June: This will be a busy month for you. You have so many things you want to do and are asked of. Proper planning is needed if you don't want to see everything stays in WIP status. Also, be mindful and focused when you're driving and travelling to avoid any accidents. Don't put yourself in a hurry mode.

July: It seems the effort you spent in the previous month won't be paid off well in this month, you feel like you've wasted a lot of time and effort only to see things crumble. Which begs the question, is your foundation solid? Think carefully about what you invest in. Also, pay attention to your living space to avoid leaks, floods, or appliances malfunctioning.

August: Another busy month, this time, you will start to learn to balance things more, you will still do many things at once but you're getting the hang of it and be more skilful, make sure to surround yourself with supportive people. You still need to be careful when travelling, though.

September: You seem to have mastered the art of balancing. You're extra patient this month and willing to take a slower and more sustainable approach. You will also care more about your overall health and want to cut out unhealthy habits. Green juice and nature will do wonders for you in this period. Avoid any excessive behaviour, whether it's in the name of health, betterment, or work.

October: I see a potential lover on the horizon, or someone who can work with you effortlessly, a match for you, whether it's a romantic, platonic, or professional connection. You will want to adorn yourself more beautifully, pay attention to the beauty surrounding you. Rose and butterfly might be symbolic.

November: If the person you meet in October is a romantic potential, you might have some competition there. Also, you will feel a little conflicted about them, like you're not sure what exactly your intention is, or you have so many things you want to do that it's hard to organise the schedule.

December: I see that you will stay home a lot in this month, or prefer to be in solitude, which is probably what you need. To gather your thoughts and do some soul searching. You might want to search for new reading materials. Don't stay up late too much.

[tealvenetianmask]

Stolas Makes Decisions Alone

I'm here to predict more problems ahead for Stolas. But don't worry- I do think he'll get through them because of character growth.

Stolas has a pattern of taking drastic actions that he believes are right and getting so caught up in his own point of view that he doesn't really listen to anyone else. I don't think he realizes this about himself. As much as he's now dealing with the consequences of his decisions at the end of Season 2, he hasn't yet learned that he can't go it alone. That he needs to communicate with the people his decisions impact- namely Blitz and Octavia, the people he cares for most. What I'm saying is, even though he's not the only one, our lovely owl man is a misunderstanding factory.

As for why he's like this, I have some ideas, but first, let's quickly go over the ways we've seen this behavior play out in HB.

It's treated as kind of light in Season 1 . . . despite being great with words, he's a lousy communicator because he gets carried away with his own ideas.

In Murder Family, Stolas has no idea that Blitz is panicking and . . . yes, I believe feeling pressured in this moment, even if he likes the deal later. In Loo Loo Land, he doesn't pay attention to Octavia's (not subtle) reactions enough to realize that no, she does not want to go to Loo Loo, and she absolutely doesn't want to bring the person Stolas cheated with along as a bodyguard. Also . . . as soon as Stolas listens to Octavia here, their communication improves, and Octavia is allowed to decide on the next father daughter activity.

The independent decision making tendency becomes more serious . . . tragic . . . in The Full Moon.

Stolas goes into the episode with a plan to do what he believes is right (freeing Blitz from himself), and he's so set on it that he blindsides the guy and shuts him out at the first hint of rejection, unable to pay enough attention to realize that it's . . . not actually rejection, just another wounded person reacting to a sudden change, since the entire decision making process already happened inside Stolas's mind.

Okay . . . Mastermind and Sinsmas.

I'm letting him off the hook for Mastermind, because he had only seconds to do something to save Blitz's life. I don't think he's wrong here. BUT symbolically, in the courtroom, Stolas rarely looks at Blitz. Someone who loves him is standing behind him, and there are moments of recognition between them, but Stolas still faces the decision, and his fate, alone.

In Sinsmas, we get the most blatant version of this kind of decision making. Yes, I know he's off his meds and going through a lot. He could have waited a few more minutes for Blitz to get back and talked through his decision to march up to his palace and demand to see his daughter. Blitz could have helped him calm down, and they could've had a conversation and decided on the best way to do it.

But that isn't how Stolas makes decisions. It isn't how he's EVER made decisions. Helping Stolas would put Blitz in danger, or Blitz might try to convince him to wait. So in Stolas's mind, if it's a choice between being kept from his daughter and dying alone by Andrealphus's hand, well . . .

There's so much that could be discussed here. Medication/depression. Suicidality. Autism . . . does this pattern stem in part from difficulty reading social cues?

These are all topics worth analyzing but . . . here's one thing that I think is at the core of Stolas's character regardless of the situation or other factors.

Stolas had all of his decisions made for him for his entire life. No one consulted him. Ever. Not about his career. Not about his marriage. Not about how he would choose to behave and conduct himself in the world.

Then when he was somewhere between 18 and 20, he had a child. And suddenly, his decisions mattered. Not in the big ways for himself. He still had to carry out all of his responsibilities. But he could decide how to raise this kid (Stella wasn't really interested in raising her after all). He could do everything in his power to make her childhood joyful, to make her feel loved, to teach her that she could be herself.

The problem is, making decisions for a kid doesn't make you a great collaborative decision maker. Being a parent means being an authority. He wasn't totalitarian like his own father, but there wasn't really anyone to honestly talk through his decisions and process his emotions with. So he's spent 35ish years never making a decision with someone else.

He's also rich and powerful, and that both keeps him isolated and gives him . . . a somewhat outsized view of his own importance and ability to control situations, in my opinion.

But now Octavia is 17, and making decisions that impact her without adequately communicating doesn't really work anymore.

And the other person he loves is Blitz. And yes, Mastermind is an exception, but Blitz usually doesn't need to be rescued or protected. He certainly doesn't need to be protected from Stolas (i.e. The Full Moon). He needs a partner. And Stolas needs one too.

So yeah, until Stolas learns to communicate (or at least learns that it's necessary) I worry about what he'll go off and do on his own.

Note: please don't take this as me blaming EVERYTHING on Stolas. Blitz and Octavia both have some responsibility for the miscommunications that go on. I just think this particular tendency of Stolas's is interesting and wanted to explore it.

[mischiefmaker615]

Chef's Choice

Over the past time of having tumblr, i have collected my personal favorites- stories that i always get drawn back to when i need inspiration, something to read, and/or something to enjoy with whatever mood or situation that needs tending LOL (not in order and there are so many others i love!!)

Thought it be best to introduce you to some of the greats out there :D

“Seems like the prince of Asgard is seduced by a mortal woman”

By: @fictive-sl0th

(OMG i absolutely LOVE the doctor themed stories with Loki XD ya never know what direction it's gonna end up ;) )

A Coveted Bride

By: @magicbystarlight

(i absolutely LOVE jealous Loki, anything in the realm of dark theme and possessiveness XD we don't judge here. it's an enquired taste and darling, you cooked!!)

Duplicitous *Long Snake Moan*

By: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

(everything you write, i got to read! truth be told, we didnt ask for but we absolutely needed!!)

Pinned Down

By: @lokisgoodgirl

(come on, just by the titles alone you know it's gonna be good! everything you've written, i've fallen in love with each detail, nothing is rushed and personalities are captured beautifully! i've caught myself gasping out loud in public with some of the stuff you bring us and i absolutely love it!)

Overstimulation Welcome Him Home More Between His Thighs

By: @sarahscribbles

(had me drooling in kinktober!!! just the title alone, i hit favorite so i could read it when i got time and darling, you didn't disappoint! so many stories just draw my attention and every aspect of them is truly perfect!!! i need more!!!)

thirty seconds

By: @muddyorbsblr

(what i would give to be in the readers shoes!! omg i loved this!!! hit all the right feelings and i cant help but reread this far more than thirty times LOL)

The Chambermaid

By: @wheredafandomat

(i want Loki to step on me!!!! i wouldn't mind slave life if it meant serving him LOL gods this was perfect!! i always loved maid x Loki themed stories, keep them coming!!)

Kinktober Day 16

By: @suguru-getos

("we listen and we don't judge" *cough* i love me some CNC! seems like a very hidden kink topic so i got positively excited when i saw this mentioned in your writing and just HAD to read it Lol kinky indeed!!! truly my favorite fic of yours so far!)

Overtime Safehouse

By: @cleo-fox

(I'm pretty sure all of tumblr knows who you are Lol i have enjoyed EVERYTHING you've come out with; your plots, details and character embodiment, Loki is on point!! i cant even fathom where to begin on making storylines this deep with all the bells and whistles. you are truly an incredible writer!!)

"I can do….terrible things to you."

By: @oh-look-at-her

(i can't literally do anything but bow down to you and get up only when given permission LOL truly a damn good time reading your work!!)

Firestarter

By: @delaber

(who doesn't love a good enemies to lovers story Lol can't tell you how many people i've shooed while i was in the middle of reading this XD)

Frozen Stiff Happily Never After

By: @simplyholl

(tbh i struggle finding REALLY good Jotun Loki fics and absolutely fell in love with this one!!! thank you for letting me die in peace now Lol had me giddy and blushing!!)

Have Mercy

By: @mochie85

(you captured his hot and pain in the ass personality so well!!! i LOVED this went through all the emotions on this one!! kinda like an enemies to lovers story Lol why cant it be me!!!)

A Tales of Tangled Desires

By: @angelremnants

(i fell in love with the part one, not expecting for my request to be answered but i got a part two and absolutely have become obsessed!! i love your writing so much and thank you for the prayer being answered! Lol)

And The Gods Made Love

By: @thefairywithboots

(thank you for my request being answered!! anything you publish, i cant get enough of and love the pure art like pace you take to form every inch of your story!!)

[softtdaisy]

it takes what it takes / Charles Leclerc

summary. When you heard Charles was bringing his new girl to you and your friends' annual winter holiday, you decided to bring someone too. That isn’t your boyfriend. But it takes what it takes to make your ex jealous, right? Well, that was something Charles had in mind too.

words count. 1,854

a/n. it feels so good to write for Charles again?? This was supposed to be a mix of Is It Over Now? and Last Christmas but I wanted to do something sweet and fun and I really love it??? So I hope you will too 🤍

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“It’s a bad idea.”

You had been thinking that for the whole ride, that’s for sure. But you didn’t realize you were thinking this loud that even your friend could read your mind and say the same thing. You turned to look at Andrew, your ‘date’ for the holiday. A date that was clearly more stressed than you were about the situation.

“It will be fine.” you replied, focused on the road. “You don’t have to do much except being nice and pretend to love me.” you heard him laugh softly to which you replied with a smack on his thigh. “Two hard things to do, I know.”

“You’re not hard to love honey, you’re just not my type.” 

You rolled your eyes. One thing was true, the other was harder to believe. You knew that asking Andrew to come would be easy, you were offering him a free snow holiday with one of his best friends: you. And you knew things couldn’t be awkward between you since there were more chances for him to fall for your ex than for you.

On the other hand, the first part is harder to believe. Especially when your ex broke up with you to “focus on his career” and was now dating someone else. As if his career was to be a serial dater and not a Formula One driver.

When your friends told you Charles would bring his new girl, you couldn’t accept being there by yourself. It would be hard enough to pretend to not be jealous, you couldn’t do that alone. 

So there you were, finally parking in front of the luxurious cabin you all rented with your fake boyfriend.

Andrew was the first to leave the car so he could take your baggage off the boot. When you finally stood next to him, he took your hand in his and kissed it. “Let’s get in here, my sweet jellybean.”

You laughed so loud you probably woke up the neighbourhood. “Ugh, don’t call me that idiot.”

Your exchange was heard by your friend who rushed outside to greet you. It was nice to see them all again. You had some doubt after your breakup with Charles that maybe they would all choose him and forget about you. But there you were with them, feeling loved and appreciated like nothing ever happened. 

Andrew was introduced and played his boyfriend role so perfectly that even you believed it for a minute. 

But just for one single minute. Until Charles came outside too.

It wasn’t like you could have escaped him this year. You saw interviews of him, you were in Monaco when he won. It was hard to see your ex boyfriend everywhere yet you couldn’t contain the pride of seeing succeed.

You didn’t rush to hug him like he didn’t move from the door. You just both acknowledged each other’s presence. You noticed the small smile on his face when he looked at you and for a few seconds, it was enough.

Enough to think you could handle the whole holiday with him.

Enough to forget all the bad things you thought and said about him these past months.

Enough to consider being friends or, maybe more if things came to an end with his girlfriend.

Said girlfriend that ruined everything you had in mind the second she stepped outside.

Not that she did anything bad. She stayed quiet, almost hiding behind him. You were even sure she nodded towards you to say hello. You couldn’t blame her for being arrogant, possessive or mean to you. She didn't do anything wrong.

Charles did.

By simply picking someone that looked exactly like you.

You gave a short look at Andrew that looked as surprised and confused as you were. At least you had the decency to not choose a fake boyfriend that looked like your ex boyfriend.

“We are all finally together!” one of your friends said, putting his arms around you and Andrew’s shoulder.

“For better and for worse.” Andrew whispered to you, to which you replied again with a smack on his back.

__

If Andrew played his role to perfection, by always staying by your side and having a hand on you because he knew how much you crave physical affection, you were far from being the best actress in this play.

You spend the first evening noticing every single thing that reminded you of yourself on Charles’ girlfriend. From her hair colour, the way she styled it to her sweater that was the same as one of yours -like did he seriously look at your closet to offer the same? You were convinced Charles did all of that on purpose. Or he really had a type and it was you.

Still, you tried to be nice to her. Because she was a nice girl. But anytime you started a conversation, you just kept noticing more and more things in common with her. And it was driving you mad that Charles not only broke up with you for stupid reasons but was now dating some kind of clone of yourself. 

You tried to analyze their relationship without being creepy but it was harder than you thought.

And being curious doesn’t always bring good things. 

Not when you were so focused on the way Charles and her were acting during the afternoon outside that you didn’t notice the rock under the snow and fell on your knees. Of course, Andrew was living his best life as a passionate skier and wasn’t close enough to help you.

Compared to Charles that saw your fall.

“Are you ok?” he said once he was close enough to help you back on your feet.

You gave him a bad look, do you seriously think I need your help? You thought so loud that you hoped he would hear.

But that would have been terribly ironic considering you almost fell in his arms once you were standing again. “I might have hurt my knee.” you admitted.

You looked down at your legs, reprimanding them for letting you down literally in front of him. “Go meet the others.” you heard him say. You thought he talked to you until you looked up and saw his girlfriend leaving you. Of course, skiing perfectly compared to you. At least that made a difference between you two. “I’m bringing you back to the cabin.” he added

“I can do that by myself.” 

“No, you can’t.” you opened your mouth to reply but he stopped you. “But we can try and see how many times you fall without me. I’ll bet on three before your call for my arms again.” 

These types of squabbles were typical of your relationship. You kept doing that when you were together for every little unserious thing. Mostly because it always ended up with kisses and laughs. Nothing was ever serious with Charles and that’s what you loved the most in your couple. Nothing except your breakup.

“Fine.” you mumbled. When you looked at him, you noticed a little amused smile on his face. You weren’t the only one remembering the good days.

Once inside, Charles helped you sit on the sofa and stretched your leg. But he didn’t seem to leave. Instead, he took off his coat and made himself another coffee. “What are you doing?” you asked, confused.

“Making myself a coffee.”

“No shit Charles, I never would have guessed.” 

“Another stupid question?” he said with a big smile while coming closer to you. The thing is, your “yes” came out of your mouth faster than you thought. And you found yourself trapped in a conversation that you had multiple times in your head since you arrived yesterday. “I’m waiting.” he added when you tried to avoid his eyes.

“Why did you find someone that looks like me?” you finally asked. 

Charles laughed on his coffee, putting some on his sweater. That was far from the question he imagined hearing. But it wasn’t a big surprise either. “She doesn’t even look like you,” he replied. He hid his smile behind his cup. Which wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t that concentrated on your conversation.

“Are you kidding me Charles? This is some kind of Ross and Russ situation in Friends!” but you didn’t get any answer to that except for another laugh from him. So that was it? You were just a joke for him? Someone he wanted to make fun of? You felt your joy and curiosity fall immediately at that revelation. “Why do you do that? Why are you dating someone that looks like me?” you asked in a lower voice.

Charles had left for the kitchen so you missed his expression when he heard you. A strange mix of happiness that you were jealous and sadness that he hurt you, which wasn’t the plan. “I wanted to make you jealous.” 

You turned your head, which caused an immediate neckache. “What the hell are you talking about?” you sighed with your eyes closed. Did it make the pain go away? No.

But it made Charles sit next to you.

“You told everyone how you hated me this year.” He said, looking you right in the eyes.

“You broke up with me.”

“You said so many bad things I thought you wanted me dead.” he laughed.

“Well, you broke up with me.”

“You ignored me the whole year. And don’t say it’s because I broke up with you! Because I know, ok? And I regretted it the moment you left my place.”

Confusion wasn’t strong enough to explain how you felt at that moment. Not when on top of what he said, Charles took your hand in his and started gently rubbing your skin with his thumb. “I was an idiot, ok? I still am for what I know. And I didn’t know what to do to make you realize that maybe you still love me.”

“So you brought your girlfriend here?” you asked in a whisper, like it was some kind of secret nobody had to know about. 

Charles moved his face closer to yours so he could whisper back. “I’m not dating her. And I know you’re not dating Andrew either.”

You felt ridiculous keeping this position to whisper in an empty place like that. But the feeling of finding that you love again was stronger than everything. “What would you have done if I wasn’t jealous?”

“I would have played pretend until I left and accepted that I was the biggest idiot for letting the woman I love go.”  Then a smile grew on his lips. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh I’m not done with you Charles Marc Hervé…” you started. But you never finished this sentence. Because Charles was quicker to put his lips on yours and kissed you like he always loved to. Softly, with so much love that you could feel it right in your heart. 

That was how you realized that maybe your heart had been switched off this whole year. Because for the first time in months, you felt lighter. Happier. Loved.

And in love, again. 

[a-lurking-fae]

《𝙳𝙲 x 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫 ℑ𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔠𝔱》

Fontainian!Reader with a much nicer Damian. I mean— you're his only blood sibling! Siblings are always there for each other when the parents are gone, so why don't you give him more attention? As much as he is enraged at your situation, he is happy that he can hog you all to himself without any interference.

Can't you read him a bedtime story? Or hum him a lullaby? He can't really sleep without those anymore. Are you going to deprive your own baby brother of sleep? He's always working so hard with patrols already. Coddling your brother is a small, thankful gesture. Now, don't leave his room just yet! He was terrified of the villain earlier. He's scared of nightmares! He killed the guy for badmouthing you, but who's asking?

Every time he gets into trouble at school, you're the one he'd call. His older sibling, who'd fight tooth-and-nail for him! You'd scold them for teaming up against a child. He was only defending himself! You'd take him out to ice cream after and buy a new storybook to read tonight.

Anytime he's alone during patrol, you'd send a melusine over with a basket of snacks, making sure he isn't hungry. And whenever he gets home injured? Oh, you're furious. Not only to the villain who did the damage, but the the people Damian was with during patrol. Especially if it was Bruce, Dick, or Jason. He actually injured himself because he wants your attention.

You trusted them with your Damian! How could they get him injured! You take Damian to your room, getting some healing potions in stock while he changes into some pyjamas he got from his room.

You could never sleep when Damian was on duty. You pour the healing potions on him, bandaging the wound on his arm, placing some sticker bandages on his cheek.

A meal laced with a light sleeping medication from Teyvat, made by yours truly, is placed on your study desk, ushering Damian to eat a bit, making sure he gets a meal before bed. Once he finishes, he sits on the right side of the bed, with you next to him. You read him the storybook you got him earlier. Chatting the night with him.

He then asks more about Teyvat— of course you told him! Damian was delighted to know that you trusted him with plenty of your secrets. He was happy to know about visions, legends, and more stories. His precious older sibling, too weak to defend themselves, he'll make sure you'll be safe in the mansion.

He'll ask Father to put your room next to him, in the main wing, not here, it's too far, they can't protect you quickly. And— what do you mean by your going to stay in Teyvat? What about him? Can't you stay in Gotham for him?

He flashes his puppy eyes at you, and for a split second, you think that you do want to stay in Gotham. But as much as you love Damian, you can't let him mess with your plans.

You cuddle him to bed, humming a lullaby from Fontaine. Granny Furina said she'd sing this to your mom whenever she had nightmares. It was Damian's favourite lullaby, too. You stroke his hair gently, before you kiss his forehead, and said goodnight.

You don't know that he's awake, plotting to keep you here in Gotham, and he knows it. It seems he needs to call backup this time.

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ησтє : My mind is filled with ideas. When I made this, the first draft was deleted, huhu (╥﹏╥)

[renzanix]

Yippeeeee here's the first batch of voice designs! Notes and explanations under the cut

Hero: The main guy himself! As LQ's constant inner conscience, I wanted him to look basically identical to him. The only significant difference is the silly little hair (feather?) swirl on his head, because @/ justcherryqwq's animatics were the first voice designs I ever saw and Hero just looks wrong to me without it now.

Smitten: Hearts hearts hearts hearts hearts- A bit on the nose maybe but he would most likely approve. I tried to make his body shape reminiscent of disney princes. Definitely the biggest voice. Very fluffy and soft to best keep his Princess warm :3

Hunted: One of the littlest guys to convey how small he feels compared to his Princesses (Beast and Den). Scrangly fellow covered in scratches and bite marks. His plumicorns are made to look more like animal ears and his cheek fluff like whiskers. He has the same glowy eyes as Beast does. Little teeths.

Paranoid: My beloved lanky guy. I adore this silly so much, he was one of the first voices I ever met. His plumicorns, wings and feathers in general are all quite sparse and messy from how much he stress-plucks. I wanted his frame to look like a toddler could kick him over. He needs sleep. I'm definitely not the first person to design him with multiple eyes (both as a reference to his route and as a way for him to keep watch better) but I'm not sure who originally came up with it.

And some more headcanons I have for them!

-When Hero gets nervous or morally-conflicted about what they're doing, he covers his face with his wings. In PatD it seemed to be LQ's default way of standing but I think it really suited Hero's reluctance with the situation.

-Whenever you betray the Princess in his routes, Smitten's eyes become literally heartbroken and he gets mascara tracks similar to the Princess in HEA just to make it extra dramatic. I wanted to design a heart shaped chest scar for when he rips open your chest in the Damsel route, but it's not like he's ever with us again after that.

-I fucking love the Den route where Hunted goes feral. Yeesss my silly go feel powerful for once! Obviously an increased amount of scars, cat slit eyes and big ol' teeth.

-Paranoid's pupils can change heavily based on what's happening. I like to imagine that when he's doing the whole "Heart, lungs, liver, nerves-" thing, that his eyes are closed in concentration, and the moments he's interrupted they're startled opened with frantic heartlines. He has less eyes opened when he's calmer, and more eyes opened when he's panicking the fuck out. Very rarely does he have the usual two eyes only.

Anyways I *have* been browsing other people's voice designs for weeks now, so if there's any design elements that look similar to anyone else's, I probably subconciously yoinked it from them. Please feel free to let me know if I copied something so heavily that it deserves a credit, because I really cannot understate just how many voice designs I've been going through and have lost track of.

[opiopal]

thinkin abt mammon being like, rly strong..

cause like, listen, Ik with like, dia or beel or s8n, yeah, clearly they could lift you up with EASE. No problem no questions ASKED.

but something about imagining mams just scooping up mc no problem makes me giggle and blush and kick my feet

cause imagine somethings going on and his first instinct is to just SCOOP mc and run. or him and mc are in the kitchen and mc can’t reach a shelf, and instead of his just grabbing it for them he lifts them by the waist as if they weighed absolutely NOTHING and raises them high enough to grab what they were reaching for. Or they’re both just hanging around and he lifts them to sit on his lap to cuddle. like dude, I can’t get over it, and it’s a little more blushy for me cause like, ofc I base a little bit of my Mc off of myself, and I’m on the chubbier side(as is my Mc) so it’s like “omg you can pick me up?!*bluesh*•3-“ (I am cringe but I am free, cringe culture died with Lilith)

but carrying on, like, I think it would be funny if he just picked mc up without thinking sometimes. Like if there’s a late night situation and he has to go check it out- but he doesn’t want to leave his warm cozy sleepy partner behind- so he just scoops and suddenly mc is groggily waking up with their head on mammons shoulder while all the brothers are looking at a fallen chandelier or something, and they’re just like “?????” Like half the time he picks them up either without fully processing it, or because he’s like “oh well [problem] can easily just be solved if I hold my partner above the ground”

also I like to imaging mc and mams dancing together, and just because he’s a dorky romantic he ends up scooping them up to kiss them instead of dipping them down, like it causes heads to turn and stuff but he doesn’t really care, he loves Mc so much and he thinks people should absolutely admire them and be dazzled by them exactly like how he is✨