#bc this is really NOT what i should be doing right now

[lvrrgirlll]

Knight in Shining Armor

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Pairing: medieval princess ! reader x knight ! Patrick Zweig

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, p in v, fem reader, knives mentioned (briefly in a nightmare?), some Christian biblical imagery and mentions of sin/religious related guilt (I was playing into the whole medieval royalty thing idk)

Notes: Thank you guys for all the love on the moodboard/little blurb on this!!! Without all the support I wouldn’t have been inspired to go crazy and write this (I fear this will seem like the most pretentious fic ever written bc I really lent into the medieval thing so the language feels kinda crazy at some points…idk, if y’all were rocking with the last one, you’ll probably rock with this lol) Enjoy!!

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

You did your best to avoid Patrick in court the following days. You were unsure if you could even face him after your dream. But, of course, nothing can last forever. An attempted attack on your wing of the castle (which was, thankfully, stopped by the valiance of Sir Patrick) led to a change that would greatly affect your fate.

As you entered the grand hall of the castle to take your seat in court, you noticed Sir Patrick in his armor —something rather unusual to see in the castle, though you didn't mind— speaking to your father, metal helmet in hand. Your father had always favored Patrick, you presumed for his determination and natural swagger, and acted as such. He was the head knight of the royal guard and spoke with the King frequently. Taking notice of your presence, your father addressed you whilst you curtsied. “Good daughter, what fortune you arrive now of all times. In light of the attack on your wing, I have decided to appoint Sir Patrick himself to be your personal guard. Your safety is of the utmost importance to me and this entire kingdom. It is only right I appoint our best knight.” Your father smiled warmly at Patrick then.

“I thank you, your majesty,” Patrick bows before the King. “I shall be prepared to risk my life for the life of our princess.” At that, he turns to you, offering a look so secretly smug you have trouble maintaining your composure. You simply smile and nod, silently acknowledging the workings of your father and the knight that now create a great dilemma for you.

“Father, I am suddenly feeling quite faint. Might I take my leave and rest for the afternoon?” You just want to get away from him. He’s dangerous. You can hardly control yourself around him. And what’s worse is he knows it.

Your father, concerned, approves of your leave, though you feel dismayed when Sir Patrick follows you. “I am perfectly capable of making my way back, myself. Thank you, sir,” you offer, trying to be as strict as you can, for your own sake more than his.

“M’lady, perhaps you did not understand. As your personal guard, I am tasked with protecting you at all times. This would require that I be with you at all times. The King wills it so.” He speaks formally though his tone is far too pleased to be merely dutiful. You had not considered that. Sighing, you merely nod in understanding before turning again to return to your room.

In your room, Patrick takes his station directly outside the door. “I am only a moment away. Do not hesitate should you need me.” He may not know exactly how you may need him…

You nod, though, smiling softly before closing the door, creating a divide between the two of you. You are overcome by desire. You feel dirty, guilty, and wrong…but you know he feels the same. And he is noble; he is a gentleman…would it be so bad if you acted on your feelings? God, you feel foolish. You have hardly spoken to him in the years he has served at the castle. What feelings could you really be harboring?

Sick of your racing thoughts, you resolve that a nap would be the best right now. In your sleep, though, you dream of enemies breaking through your windows and climbing up the tower of your wing. It is utterly terrifying. You can feel yourself stirring, heart racing and sweating profusely, as your subconscious plays tricks on you. In your nightmare, a cloaked figure, face hidden in the shadows of his hood, plunges a dagger through your heart, causing you to lurch awake with a loud cry. You are breathing heavily, trying to adjust to your new, real surroundings and shake the terror of the dream when you hear Sir Patrick through the door.

“Your Majesty? Are you alright…?” You do not answer, still shaken and attempting to compose yourself. “I am entering, m'lady.” And before you can tell him not to, that you’re alright, Patrick burst through the door, already reaching for his sword. Seeing you are merely sat in bed, his urgency leaves him, concern taking over. “Is there not a threat?” He observes, then, the state you are in. Dressed only in your thin, white nightgown (which has grown somewhat see-through on account of your nightmare induced sweat soaking through the fabric), Patrick is reduced to nothing but a mere man in love, forgetting himself entirely. Unbeknownst to you, he adjusts himself in his trousers, clearing his throat.

The room is illuminated only by the cold, pale light of the moon shining through your large paned windows. Shadows dance across his features as a breeze blows the trees outside steadily. He has never looked more beautiful. Both concern and lust play on his face, leaving you to squirm just a bit more than you normally would have under his gaze. Looking down then, you reply, embarrassed. “Forgive me for my foolishness. There is no present threat. I am sorry to have wasted your time and effort, good sir.” You bow your head in remorse. This on its own is a sign of you respect for the knight before you. Technically, he should be bowing to you, but under his gaze you feel so small, yet so regarded at the same time. It is unlike with any other man, though it is rare you interact with many often anyways. You lift your head, meeting his eyes again and feeling your stomach flip.

A pang of guilt runs through you as you realize you are noticeably smiling at him. Despite his nobility, you believe the two of you would never be. The only way your union: emotional, physical, spiritual, or (more officially) marital would ever occur would be if your father willed it. And though Sir Patrick was your father’s right hand man, it was the relationship of that of an employer and his best employee, not that of father and son nor of old companions.

Your smile dropped and so did his. He knew what he was doing, his silent, unspoken, but clear pursuit of you ever since that fateful night was wrong. But he did not care. He had no regard for his own life or death, he was a knight, after all. He risked himself for this kingdom, he would be willing to risk himself for you. He brought a hand up, cupping your face in his large palm, and offering you a sorry smile. “To defend you, threat or no threat, is my life’s honor, m’lady. You have wasted nothing of mine.” His hand brushed your ear as he tucked your hair behind it. Seeing you with your hair down for the first time was something entirely new to him, similar to when you first saw him shirtless that night. In typical court fashion, you would never leave your chambers with your hair fully down. Seeing you so bare, so honest, and unadorned felt novelty. He was grateful for his wit, being able to convince the King that he should serve you personally.

You, however, were so deeply conflicted. You knew better. Your station in society as well as in life did not allow for these endeavors. But your mind, you body, your heart���they longed for your knight in shining armor. His touch, though somewhat chaste, only holding your head in his hands, felt deeply intimate. You considered your options. “Sir, might I ask your discretion in asking a favor?” Your felt fearful of your own desires, but conjured up as much confidence as possible.

“Always, m’lady.”

You tugged your bottom lip into your mouth for a moment, before continuing. “M- might you…kiss me?” It was hard to maintain your composure, overcome with shame as you looked up pleadingly into his eyes. It was only the two of you in your bedchamber, the door closed —yet another forbidden thing.

Softening, a smirk gracing his features, he sighed. “I would be a fool not to.” This was exactly what he had been wanting since he first saw a portrait of you. The strength required of his position kept his feelings concealed, but in this one, small moment alone with you, he could reveal them. He leaned in slowly, closing the gap between you as his lips move against yours feverishly. You can feel his tongue dart out and wet your bottom lip, but you pull away quickly before he is able to deepen the kiss.

“I am sorry. This is…” you search for the words, not wanting to be so harsh but wanting to be clear. “This is sinful.” Your eyes meet his, pleading for him to offer you a reprieve from your consuming feelings by distancing himself. Though, that twinkle behind your eyes and in the corner of your lips betrayed you. He could see you had fallen for him the same as he for you.

He takes a seat next to you on your bed, looking into your eyes earnestly. “If I it is a sin to touch you, I would become a sinner every day till I am dragged to hell, should you allow me?” He was begging you to let him touch you, feel you, love you. And who would you be to deny him?

You were quiet for a moment, considering your fate and whether or not you would be able to find absolution after giving in. Throwing caution to the wind, you allow yourself, for once, to make your own decisions. "Please, good sir. Touch me. Take me, for I am all yours."

He wasted no time, leaning in to kiss you, his armor clanging against itself as he did so. The kiss was passionate, the years of admiring you from afar being poured out in this one moment. Breaking the kiss, suddenly, he stood, leaving you confused until he began swiftly removing his armor. He made sure to set each piece down gently, so as not to alert and servants lingering nearby of his presence in your chambers. You tried to stifle your smile as his form was revealed more and more with each layer of metal gone. It was new and exciting, and his gentleness despite his clear eagerness was unbelievably admirable.

Once he had removed it all, clad only in a white linen undershirt and trousers, he returned to your bed, leaning over you and pulling you into another deep kiss. This time, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, licking softly into it, his nose brushing against your cheek as he pressed closer into you, as if he longed for your two bodies to be one. It was impossible to be any closer, but you did not mind one bit. Though timid at first, your kisses matched his fervor. You could feel his calloused hand combing through your hair as his other snuck lower, carressing you through your nightgown. You let out a shivered breath at his touch.

"Is this alright, my lady?" He pulled back, looking into your eyes longingly. God, forgive you, but you needed this so badly. You both did.

You nodded, lifting your hips to gather your nightgown up and off of you, casting it aside carelessly. Now, you really felt exposed. But something about Patrick made you want to feel honest; made you want to seek pleasure shamelessly. His eyes widened in tandem with his smirk. He was so pleased and so in love.

"I've never...I-...I'm a virgin," you admitted, looking up at him through your thick lashes. His smile only widened, but not in some sort of sick, smarmy way. It was genuine and kind.

"Oh, I know, your highness. Or...I imagined as much. Not to worry, I am well aware of how to please a woman," he spoke softly, trying not to intimidate you. You would have taken offense at his mention of his previous experience, but you had imagined he was experienced in the first place, as many men and knights of his age are by now. It is different for you, a princess, always expected to remain pure. With him, you did not fear impurity after this. You felt strongly that you would steadfast remain pure in his eyes till the end of time.

He leaned in again, placing hot kisses along your neck. He moved to remove his trousers as he did so, working at the string that held them up quickly. As he did so, your fingers found their way to the tie that held his shirt together, pulling at the string with a new confidence, you brought your hands to the hem and he pulled away from your neck to remove his shirt. Both his bandages and bruises were gone, a good sign, but there was a scar where he had been scratched, a reminder of your previous encounter.

His trousers finally hanging low around his legs, he teased himself around your entrance, causing you to jolt and whimper beneath him. The feeling was entirely foreign but oh so enchanting. He reached a hand down, running his fingers through your folds, smirking at the wetness that gathered on his fingers. "You are like the Lady of The Lake...beautiful, otherworldly, and so, so wet..." Patrick murmured lustfully. It was such a dirty compliment, but you were so deeply moved.

Like your dream, you were both under your layers upon layers of white sheets, so warm, close, and intimate. His fingers danced around your clit, circling it at an agonizingly slow pace. You gasped, sucking in a breath quickly and biting your lip so as not to make any more sound. He did not miss this, leaning in to peck you on the lips before reminding you "The walls are stone, the door thick oak and iron. We should be cautious, yes, but you mustn't be embarrassed to make a sound. It is better, in fact, if you do."

His reassurance brought a smile to your face as you dropped your lip from your teeth, a sign that you were allowing yourself the honesty you so craved with Patrick. He resumed his hand movements around your most sensitive spot, causing you to let out a symphony of high pitched gasps. His fingers moved away then, moving down and slipping inside of you, first one, then another. The stretch was unfamiliar and hurt a bit, something your scrunched eyebrows didn't hide, but he did not move them for a moment, allowing you to adjust. "All will be well," he cooed into your ear, lips brushing against your skin. "I just need to warm you up."

His fingers began to move, first only in and out at a steady pace, but soon replaced by him scissoring his fingers deep inside of you, your walls squuezing him tightly. "Good sir..." you sighed in pleasure.

"Patrick," he corrected. "You may call me by my God given name: Patrick."

"Patrick..." you sighed again as he quickened the pace of his fingers. To your surprise, though, he pulled his fingers out abruptly. You almost protested, but he swiftly replaced his fingers with his cock, pushing lightly at your entrance.

"May I," he asked, looking into you eyes unwaveringly.

"Please," you nearly moaned in response. He followed your request, sheathing himself inside of you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to the thickness and length that so differed from that of his fingers. He watched your reaction carefully, taking in the way your breath hitches and your eyes flutter shut, eyebrows knitting together in both pleasure and pain. You inhaled sharply as he bottoms out, feeling as if he was practically prodding at your stomach.

"Are you ready for me to move," he inquired, eyes lidded and breathing already heavy in awe of you beneath him.

Looking up at him then, as if he were an angel or possibly some type of temptation sent by the devil that you had so easily fallen for, like Eve and the apple, you yearned to take a bite. "Patrick," it felt unfamiliar to address him so informally, but there was an undeniable intimacy in doing so as well. "If I should wait any longer it may kill me."

With that, he began moving, his pace quick but not agonizing, instead quite tender. You cried out, moans, sighs, and gasps leaving your lips repeatedly as his hips met yours time and time again. His gaze didn't leave yours, except when he would close his eyes, losing himself in a particularly deep thrust. His skin on yours was warm, a stark difference from your naturally cold body. "God, Princess, you are better than I've ever imagined."

The thought that he had imagined this with you made you feel elated, but you couldn't even bring yourself to offer a witty reply, overtaken by pleasure. "P- Patrick," you moaned, your whole body feeling hot suddenly. He quickened his pace just a bit, leaning in to suck at your neck as his other hand came up to toy with your hardened nipples. It felt so sinful but so perfect and right. How could something this good ever be wrong?

At his added touch, hips still pistoning in and out of you, it all felt like too much. Your stomach began to tighten, walls clenched tightly around him, bringing him to an almost sorry state as his jaw went slack, eyes closing suddenly and his thrusts becoming sloppier. It was impossible to restrain yourself as your hips began bucking up to meet his. "Please, please, please," you didn't even know what you were asking for but you knew you needed it.

"I'm there too, Princess. Come on, let's finish together..." he moved his hand from your chest to you clit, rubbing swift circles as he slammed his hips into yours. Pleasure finally overtook you entirely as you fluttered around him, body stiffening and falling weak as you reach your high. He pulled out of you quickly, his hand moving to finish himself off lazily on your stomach through stifled grunts. When you were both completely spent, he momentarily laid next to you in bed, both of you looking up at the grand vaulted ceilings of your bedchambers.

"Thank you, Patrick, for showing me a kindness I should never know how to repay," you whisper softly. He sits up slightly, turning to you and offering a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"You should never have to 'repay' me. After all, I live to serve you, my dear Princess."

[yelenasdiary]

hiii! I'm a big fan of yours !!

Can I request ? Bcs like I love Agatha but I barely find fluff of her it's just smut, I know it's good but we need fluff 2!!!

( something very domestic fluff, maybe based on wandavison Agatha! )

Little Temptress

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem! Reader

Summary: A relaxing afternoon with Agatha.  

Fluff

Warnings: Slight suggestive themes? Talks of skinny dipping/being naked. | 0.8K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy! x 

The late afternoon sun casted a long, warm shadows across the living room of the Harkness house in Westview. You were curled up on the sofa with a worn-out book in your lap, the sun’s warmth distracting you from the words in front of you. Enjoying the gentle breeze that drifted through the open window. 

Agatha was in the kitchen, softly humming a tuneless melody while she moved about, wanting to make you a warm mug of tea to drink while you read your book. The world outside never really saw this soft side of Agatha. To them, she was a loving neighbor who loved a bit of gossip and always had a sarcastic remark for everything. 

“Extra milk, just how you like it” she said, her voice low and soft not to disturb you too much. 

You smiled, taking the mug from her, “you read my mind! Thanks, honey” 

“Call it my sixth sense!” The woman with long wavy brown hair winked. 

You chuckled at her playful remark, “it’s a bit too quiet today, don’t you think?” You asked.

Agatha lightly shrugged, “Honey, you should hear the rambling Dottie was going on about today! And between you and I, something weird is happening at the Maximoff house” 

“How so?” You questioned with a light frown and a quick sip of your tea. 

“It’s practically humming with… chaotic potential” she said, taking a seat beside you. 

You raised a brow, “humming? You mean like a refrigerator?” 

“Oh, far more dramatic than that” she chuckled, “Vision seems to be on edge a lot” she added. 

“Well, I’m sure with you keeping an eye on them, they’ll be fine” you teased, you always teased her about being the neighborhoods watch dog. She chuckled once more, “somebody has too” 

You hummed at her words before taking another small sip of your tea. Almost naturally, Agatha gently placed a hand on top of your knee, “so, what would you like do on the weekend, hot stuff?” 

“Mmm, what about we go out for lunch tomorrow?” You suggested, “I heard there’s a new Greek restaurant in town”

Agatha smiled softly, “I’m listening” she said she with a raised brow 

“I also need to stop at the hardware store to get some gardening supplies, so maybe we could do that after” you replied, stretching your legs and carefully placing your mug on the coffee table. 

“Or, instead of you getting attacked by the rose bushes again, we could do a picnic by the creek?” Agatha suggested with her lips curling into a knowing smile. 

“A picnic? With you? You hate things like” you looked at her. 

“If the mood strikes, we could skinny dip” 

“Ahh, right” you chuckled, shaking your head playfully at her before straddling her lap, “and why would skinny dipping be on your list of things to do?” You asked. Her hands resting on your hips as she looked up at you with a mischief grin on her lips. “Oh honey, it’s not for me. I know how much you’ve wanted to go skinny dipping before, my little temptress”. 

“Or is this just your way to see me naked?” You cocked a brow at her. Agatha chuckled, “honey, I don’t need to take you skinny dipping to see you naked, we save water every morning” she reminded you. 

You leaned closer, your nose almost touching hers, a smirk playing on your own lips. "So, it's purely out of the goodness of your heart then?" You purred, your fingers teasing the edge of her shirt. "You're just selflessly fulfilling my deepest desires?"

Agatha’s grin widened, “something like that” she said. Her fingers now tracing lazy circles on your hips, sending a shiver down your spine. “Though I must admire, the thought of you splashing around all bare and breathtaking….it’s rather appealing image” her voice dropped that made your heart skip a beat. 

“Breathtaking, hmm?” You repeated, one hand going to cup her cheek, “and you expect me to believe that’s the only reason?” You lowered your head until your lips were a breath away from hers. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking with yours, “alright, maybe there is a tiny benefit in it for me” she said in an almost whisper before your lips locked with hers. Her fingers tightened on your hips, deepening the kiss while the image of skinny dipping flashed through her mind. 

Pulling away, you smiled against her lips, “well, who am I to deny a little selflessness?” You nuzzled into her neck, breaking in her familiar scent. There was no need for further discussion. A silent agreement passed between the two of you. The afternoon was spent in each other's arms, enjoying the peace that comforted the two of you. Agatha, not that she was a great one, cooked dinner for you both to enjoy while making her watch a trashy rom-com. 

“Honey, promise me one thing” you looked up at her.

“What’s that cutie?” She asked. 

“Don’t cook anything for our picnic” you chuckled, making her playfully roll her eyes at you. “I was going to get Wanda to whip something up” she confessed. 

“Of course you were” you replied, still giggling at her reaction.

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[tododeku-or-bust]

https://www.tumblr.com/tododeku-or-bust/744837858426339328/yes-nonblack-people-can-reblog-id-appreciate

i apologise if i come off as rude and i know it’s not black fans’ responsibility to educate white fans. but as a white fan, what do you think white fans can do to fight racism in fandom spaces? because even when i stumble upon something that reads to me as racist, i don’t know if it’s my wrong interpretation as a white person and if i should say something or be quiet. /gen

I have a reblog in that post that answers this question, but that post is now at least 150k strong with only half really getting the point and I'm not scrolling that long so 😅 I'll just say it again.

(the post was about BLACK PEOPLE. So I'm going to discuss antiblackness, bc that's who I was talking to)

1. Actually share community with Black people!

Half the reason people "don't see" antiblackness when it's happening is because you're not around any Black people in your fandoms to begin with. So when you see what is inevitably racism, you probably dismiss it as "drama" because that's what the racists (!) around you are framing it as. If you actually saw the responses from the party being wronged, you'd learn what to look out for when it happened. And even if you weren't confident, someone that IS confident could use the support- bc they're gonna be far meaner to that Black fan than they'll ever be to you! But ofc you don't see racism when there are conveniently no Black people around you to point it out. Bc trust, there is no fandom space- no space period- free of it. So... Try listening to the Black people that ARE in your spaces! Support their voices, so that you can start fighting that fight on your own!

2. Think about how much antiblackness you let slide, and try to be active about not doing so!

One of the hardest things for me to swallow is not usually the OG racist poster, but the thousands of people who usually agree with them, and then the tens of thousands of others who might not agree, but continue to support that person otherwise because antiblackness is not a deal breaker for them! You might think you're a friend to Black people, but based off the people you hang around... probably not! And we see that!

So you'll watch someone be mask-off antiblack, but "oh their art is so good though" or "but I love their LGBTQ/fandom takes" yeah okay so I see that I am not a part of the safe community that you value or picture, got it.

You have to actually ask yourself, consistently- because antiracism is an active thing, it's decisions you make- "is this thing I'm participating in worth the antiblackness I'm allowing?" Sometimes you're gonna say yes. But if you find yourself saying "yes" far more often than you're saying "no", it's time to admit that you're not being antiracist 😅 and if that identity actually means anything to you, you'll have to start making some better choices!

So, is this person's cool art worth them being a whitewasher? Is this video game series worth the creators being racist? Is this musical worth the racist stereotypes it's perpetuating? Is this person's otherwise cool politics worth them treating Black people like shit? Is being seen as a racist worth keeping me safe in this fandom (that would treat me horribly if I didn't? Are they really my community, then?)? Is my temporary entertainment worth more than someone's humanity?

I think when we choose to be honest with ourselves, and are willing to ask ourselves questions like that, we might recognize just how much control we have over our own racism, and at least how we can minimize our own harm. Bc you can only control you! And you don't have to do or allow the things you allow!

3. Call it out!

I don't think everything warrants a call out. But, sometimes y'all got to be willing to say "hey, this isn't cool, dude". The whole "1 Nazi, 9 patrons, 10 Nazis" thing. I have a post about it somewhere on the CBC page 😭 But yeah. Sometimes things will be right in y'alls faces and you say nothing. And all that does is encourage others with those same beliefs to show up and think that you're okay with them. I really do wish that when you were confident, you spoke up. Or at least told your peers in private "hey, such and such did this antiblack thing and it made me uncomfortable so I'm not going to support them anymore". SOMETHING.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

oh ok

i admit i just sent in the poly bc i was on AO3 and there's like 2 fics in that tag and the vaguely purity culture vibe that had annoyed me

(and i thought it be a little funny if Danny had a Ghost Pokemon team when his parents disliked Ghost Pokemon)

so what up Jason x Danny with a Whoopsie Baby AU instead of you're still taking requests

Oh god I agree. The purity culture in all fandoms is bullshit. Like I get it I do, and I always avoid the fics where I get squicked by it in favour of the fics where they barely know each other. Also that is funny, I just never got into Pokémon. Had the first video game of it but it wasn’t my thing. You think it would be but yeah.

1. Danny and Jason are FWB. They’re both half dead heroes who are a little eldritch so it’s nice to just let off steam with one another. Except they secret have the hots for one another but don’t want to admit it. It’s a mess and both know they should break it off as it’s unhealthy but… well then Danny gets pregnant. Cause their cores want to. Fuck.

2. There is no lies and miscommunication. Danny tells Jason and confesses his feelings cause fucking once in a while is different then coparenting. Jason is 100% for it and confesses to. They are very happy together now. They begin planning right away.

3. Their families are thrilled and there are fights about best uncle or aunt. The grandparents are just all so happy. Baby! Baby fever! With eldritch bullshit including tentacles, heads turning 180 and more. It is insane but they are all so happy. And used to it really.

4. It’s triplets. Neither are that impressed and ‘birthing’ the cores that later hatch result in Danny being passed out for a few days and panicking people all around demanding answers. The answer is ‘it is how it is’. It is a sucky answer.

5. They never get married. It’s a personal choice but they don’t want to. They know there are reasons to but they pass Danny off as a trans guy and they are the parents. They’re happy. Leave them be.

[genderqueerdykes]

So uhhhhh this might be a little weird but I have memory issues and this has been bugging me for a week... I'm pretty? sure I might have blocked you on an old account when some femboy discourse stuff was going here and left your server that you had at the time? Like I did finally confirm it was you we were remembering because I know I bought a pinkie pie kandi bracelet from you off etsy (not sure if before or after the disc horse, bc we're very much a "everyone deserves to be able to survive and should not lose access to support no matter what") which for the record we love.

And like it wasn't personal, at worst we may have made a vent post at the time bc it's an identity important to us and literally no judgement whatsoever

But the reason we're even bringing it up is that we kinda feel guilty for the block even though we know it's okay to block anyone at anytime for any reason, especially since now that we saw you feel differently we're just interacting like normal and stuff

which... tbf might be trauma-related ocd from some OTHER like actually really bad internet Tumblr discourse stuff but yeah uh. I think it would help to apologize even if it's not necessary, because that's been a healthy coping mechanism for us in the past (not a compulsive one, the compulsion is more "you should never talk to them again bc you're evilbad and they don't deserve to have to interact with you") so uh, we're sorry and we think you're cool and would love to interact more and be friends (if that's not overly parasocial ahhhh x'D)

hey, that's okay, you're allowed to block people for your own safety. i don't keep track of who does and doesn't have me blocked. if someone wants to block me, that's their right, it don't take it personally. you do not have to apologize for blocking me at any point. that's not something you ever have to apologize to someone for, but i totally get why you would want to do that to give yourself some form of closure. that makes sense to me

i understand why you would've blocked over that. when i was running that server, i was friends with some very aggressive people who were adamant on policing the usage of the word femboy, so i apologize that things got so shitty about that. other staff members that were involved were very, very pushy and i ended up feeling extremely alienated from that server because i found myself disagreeing with a lot of the rules that got put into place. i especially started feeling uncomfortable because other staff members were very transandrophobic and it was causing me a lot of self hatred for being a trans man at the time. that discord server was not good for my mental health, which is why i stopped interacting with it before leaving altogether.

it took me a while to realize i did not agree with those people and that the fighting over who "gets" to use the term is so fucking petty and stupid, but i see it now and that shit was dumb. i can see why you would've been upset and left and blocked over that. at the time, plenty of people were mad about it and they had every right to be. i wasn't treating certain people right. i left that server a while back because i just got so tired of how it was being run and did not have the energy to try to rectify it due to homelessness and housing insecurity at the time. it was way too authoritarian in terms of who was allowed to identify as certain terms for me to continue to give it my stamp of approval. it was like, the exact opposite of what i wanted in a queer discord server.

thank you, though, i appreciate it. i know that this won't make the thoughts stop but you truly are allowed to block whoever you want or need to for your own safety. it's not a personal attack on them. it's a way to prevent unnecessary conflict. i fully believe in blocking when and where necessary. i block when i need to, too. but thank you so much, i appreciate it. i apologize for how shitty i was in the past about people using that term. i got pulled into the wrong crowd and i'm very glad i'm not a part of that anymore.

you're more than welcome to send a DM, and i'm glad you still like the bracelet! that must've been quite a while ago, i hope it's still holding up well! if you ever need any repairs or anything, let us know :)

[the-babbering-dabber]

Ok I have thoughts and I'm gonna put em here in a clumsy outline narrative format bc i got a headache :\ :

The minute Crocodile's allowed in the room he sand drifts over to Ace's bedside because he just can't get there fast enough. Maybe Luffy was allowed visitors and obviously awake before Ace or something so he's been able to hug and hold Luffy and fuss over him. Luffy could be sleeping now, and Crocodile had fussed over the blankets and shoulders and neck and feet because "he might get cold" and "there's not enough blankets to keep his feet warm". He'd brushed his hair back until it was greasy and someone had to physically remove him so Luffy could get some rest without being stared at constantly and adjusted every two seconds.

He was sulking in the hallway when Ace was given the all-clear for visitors. He had been tempted to defy the young doctor and slip through the vents or cracks in the door if Ace's life wasn't already hanging on by a half fray-ed thread. That's the only reason Crocodile was looming over the doors to the room Ace was in. And then they opened, and Law came out. And he left the door open and unlocked. He didn't say much, just mumbled about how "there's not much more he can do" and that "it's up to Fire Fist now" and that Crocodile should "be careful with him".

Trafalgar hadn't even finished speaking before grains of sand were ripping through the stale submarine air towards his eldest son. He understood why Trafalgar had warned him, why he'd warned caution. Ace looked dead; he really did. His usually tanned skin was ashen and cracked, marred with reddish brown, purple, and black stains, some peeking out from under thick layers of bandages.

He let this happen. He was right fucking there with Ace and Luffy and he couldn't do shit. He was fine. Barely fucking scratched. And his sons...Luffy's scarred for life and had almost died and Ace...fuck, Ace was actively dying. He had died. Trafalgar had brough him back again, and again...and once more. It should be him. He's the one who should have one foot in the grave, not his child. Never his child--any of his children.

For the first time in a long time, Crocodile wished he had both hands, if only to feel for himself Ace's pulse, breath, and faint warmth--proof he was alive and here and that there was still a chance. He was exhausted himself, having no energy to cry or scream, or even raise his voice.

He looked over Ace, facing the consequences of his failure. He failed to protect them. Dragon would be furious. Sabo would...god, what would Sabo think?

An oxygen mask distorted the lower portion of his face, doing a shit job of hiding the dark, sunken circles around Ace's eyes. He looked fucking exhausted despite having been still for so long. The spatter of freckles were still dusted across Ace's skin as they'd always been, like nothing was wrong, like everything was fine and right in the world, like everything wasn't cold and dark now, like Ace wasn't fucking dying.

It's ridiculous, really, that it wasn't the blood, bandages, bruises, oxygen mask, gray skin, or sunken cheeks that breaks Crocodile, but freckles. Ace's freckles that wouldn't ever leave his skin because they were quite literally part of his body--like his ribs and lungs and fucking spine and heart and blood and bones and skin and-

Crocodile attempted a deep breath, focusing on Ace's own mechanical breathing--the breathing that somehow did better than his own pathetic stuttered gasping attempt.

Crocodile frowned as he traced Ace's features with his vision. His son's hair was a mess of wild, dirty waves and matted, greasy streaks. Didn't look like they'd even let him shower in prison, like they'd wanted his body as it would be after death--filthy, rotten, and disgusting.

He reached out his hand slowly and gently--oh so gently--brushed a strand of hair from Ace's eye. Suddenly that's all he could do, detecting another wild frizz of hair, sooty matt, or greasy wave sticking to Ace's skin. Ace would hate that. Would hate that it was tickling his face and curled in his ear and that his baby sideburns weren't straight and that his bangs weren't equally framing his face. He'd hate that his hair part was uneven and mussed, that hair was even touching his ears, that it was curled under his jaw onto his neck and tickling his shoulders, that it was sticking up above his head and staining the pillow with a black streak. He'd hate that his colics were acting up and springing his curls straight out.

Crocodile brushed strand after strand of hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ears, smoothing the sides, and swiping a loose eyelash away.

Oh god, the blankets. They weren't even covering Ace's chest, pulled down to his hips and barely covering his feet. Crocodile unfolded the scratchy blanket and brought it up to Ace's neck, covering the already blood-soaked bandages as much for his own comfort as it was for Ace's. He reluctantly moved away from Ace's shattered chest towards the end of the bed to a cover his legs and feet fully. Crocodile lingered, running his hand over each shin and rubbing circles into the soles of his feet.

Ace's feet and ankles always hurt from the scrunched crouched perches and harsh jumps he did--ever since he was little. He used to spot little scars and cuts on his feet when he first came to Crocodile, but they'd since faded and paled. But Crocodile knew they were there. He knew because he was Ace's father. His Baba. His Baba that failed him.

Crocodile took another breath and looked around for another blanket. Ace would be so cold; he needed to be warm. He couldn't get better if he wasn't warm. Without a single blanket or sheet in sight, Crocodile drug a stool over to Ace's side, perching on the uncomfortable, small metal circle. He reached his useless hook across Ace's chest and rested the first bit of skin and muscle of his arm on Ace's bicep. If there weren't any blankets here, he'd keep Ace warm himself.

Hair had been blown on Ace's skin again, dusty grains of grime marring his skin all because Crocodile looked away. He let this happen too. With the same care as before, he reached up to brush his hair away, smooth it down with gentle pets, and thumb the dirty off his cheek.

Crocodile frowned as it didn't budge, liking the pad of his thumb and rubbing at the dirty spot once more. Nothing. Trying again, this time more firmly pressing, his frown furrowed as he made no difference. Oh. It was a bruise. Tearing through his chest hadn't been enough, they had to bruise his son's face, too? His little boy? His young, barely alive, beautiful, intelligent, strong boy who had just started living his life?

Brow pinched and creased in concern, mouth tilted and tight with sorrow, Crocodile shook his head silently. It should be him. Raking his gaze over Ace's face once more, he realized the blanket had slipped. It wasn't covering his shoulders and collarbones. And the corners weren't draping over the bed, allowing drafts to slip under the pitiful cloth. The so-called blanket wasn't even tucking in around Ace. He tucked the fabric in along Ace's side, pulling the blanket up to his neck, and straightened out creases and folded corners so it would fully cover Ace's sleeping frame--not, not sleeping, dying. Ace's dying frame.

Crocodile cupped his son's cheek again, stroking his temple, brow, and cheek with his thumb. He eased his head down on Ace's shoulder lightly, careful not to press on any of his injuries. This way he could hear his heartbeat, feel his breath, and see the little puffs of air against the plastic mask.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, head resting on his baby's shoulder and hand giving the only soothing comfort he could right now, but he wouldn't be moving for a long time, not until they reached Dragon.

---------

Law leaned against the doorway, watching a father mourn a half-dead son. He'd done all he could but...only time would tell. Time and Ace's will. He arched a singular brow as the ex-warlord fussed with the blankets again, smoothing them and tucking them around Ace's shoulders exactly as they had been.

He averted his gaze as Crocodile lowered his head on Fire Fist's shoulder and cupped his son's face. It seemed too intimate of a moment to witness, like it wasn't his place to him to see. After a few moments, when Law hadn't heard anything, he peered up once more. Neither of them had moved--Ace too drugged up and body not able to support an awake brain, Crocodile frozen. No, not frozen, sleeping.

Law snagged a pen from his pocket and switched it with the father's heavy fur coat, stepping silently over to the pair.

He peeked under the blankets and checked Ace's vitals--still stable as they could be--before draping the coat over Crocodile's shoulders. He'd leave them be, they both needed their rest. Law took once last look before closing the doors. If he was certain about one thing in this world and one thing only, it was that Crocodile loved his sons more than anything or anyone in all of creation.

-----

Lol i lied have a whole ass story ig.

IM IN LOVE WITH UR LATEST ART (the on where Crocodile holds Luffy AND especially where he's with Ace)

it's very sweet and precious. I'm wondering if Crocodile fusses over him as best he can. Like I have this picture in my head of him obsessively smoothing his his from his face or fixing his blankets for the THIRD time in like fifteen minutes

and maybe when he's a little more stable, like he crawls into. bed to cradle him, idk I feel like he would fuss over him as much as he could so he wouldn't feel helpless.

and then I'm wondering...how their reunion goes after Ace wakes up? Like did he visit Ace when he was with iva and Dragon and recovering before he woke up? did he struggle to leave him? what does Luffy know? I have so many thoughts and questions and I love the stinky child au with my whole heart and soul <3

Thank you!

I love the idea of Crocodile fussing over him...! ;w; I think once Ace is stable enough Law is taking him to Momoiro where he'll either wake up or he won't. There's not much more Law can do for him.

I don't think Crocodile could bear to visit him and just watch him for months, hoping that he'll wake up. After Luffy has decided to train with Rayleigh Crocodile probably goes into the new world. He too has to keep moving, has to keep busy, can't think about his children out there in a world that is going to get more and more dangerous to them.

But when he hears that Ace woke up, he's going to travel to him right away! (I haven't drawn this reunion yet, partially because I cannot make up my mind if Ace will have lost his devil fruit and what he's going to do now. Will he join Luffy's crew? Join the Revolutionary Army? Join Cross Guild? Get a new crew? Many options...!)

And either Luffy doesn't know that Ace woke up or Dragon tells him (I assume that depending on what his devil fruit is he can fly.)

I am happy that you like the Stinky Child AU! I do too! And there are still so many things to explore in comic or fanfic form! ;A; I'm always open for ideas for this AU~

[adhd-merlin]

no one:

me: haha alright another one

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[ganondoodle]

theres people that build the entire map of botw in fucking minecraft and im sitting here for the 100th time within less than a year crying bc i cant draw a line how i want

[lazylittledragon]

i keep trying to think of funny/poetic ways to talk about all the things i'm feeling right now but i honestly can't so. i'm really sad about what happened with my partner. i know he was an inconsiderate prick about it and that i didn't do anything wrong and i couldn't have prevented it but i'm just really fucking sad.

[skrunksthatwunk]

something he can't put into words.

[teddybeartoji]

thank you everybody who crossed their fingers and toes bc aventurine AND acheron are now both safely at home:3333333333

[bowenoke]

i'm sure i am not the only one who is very concerned about the ~4 hours between when the midjourney change was made, and I knew to go opt out of it, so; glaze does not need to be on all your works to be effective. in the same way that one artist glazing all their works will ruin a broad, multi-artist dataset, glazing your works moving forward will ruin any dataset trained on you. if out of 100 comics I've posted, 10 are glazed, a dataset trained on all of my comics will not be able to make anything similar to my style. anyways. go download glaze.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 755: Departure 2

Pag 1

2: Ding ding

3: The boarding the flight number 621 to Fukuoka, departing at 10:30 will close soon

4: If you're boarding, please speak to the staff member closest to you

Pag 2

2: Ah, that guy is angry

Shh

3: Oi

4: He said “I'm coming”, right?

Yessir!! I called him thirty times but he only picked up once....

He just said “soon”....

5: Then why aren't you here, Manamii!!

Pag 3

1: There's the Inter High soon, the Inter High!! Buah!!

So-sorry, I even sent many messages, but his current location-

It's been more than thirty minutes since you've said that, how's that soon!?

Pag 4

1: “Arriving late is a crime”!!

“Causing troubles is a serious crime”!!

Yessir

We told him that, too!!

3: Alright, I put Manami's ticket there, let's go

Huh!? Next to the window!?

That's a little-

Enough

4: Let's go, Yuuto, Tobirama

This time we'll fight as five people in the Inter High

'lright

Yes

No, but, he's the captain!?

Can't be

5: Ah... this must be my ticket

Pag 5

1: Kyushu

3: Take me there, too!!

4: Waaaa, Manami-saan!!

I'm so glad you came!!

Thank you so much!!

Well...

You really are like an here who arrives in the moment of need!!

Pag 6

1: Oi, don't misunderstand!! We were the ones in a pinch and this guy was the culprit!!

Yessir!

Sorry!

Ah, you exposed me...

2: Don't think you can dodge the matter of your tardiness just with your mood and cute face!!

Ah I thought I could make it

3: So?

Why... why were you late?

4: Ahh, I forgot my passport, then I remembered and turned back to get it

5: Ohhh... that's a problem indeed...

Wait!! You don't need a passport to go to Kyushu, right!?

Pag 7

1: Woah!! That was a clever excuse, Manami-san (It was so cool!)

It wasn't clever, and now let's go!!

Did you doze off?

2: Mh...? Well, on the train... it was only one stop?

So he really slept too much...?!

3: Jou-kun and Yuzukoshi-kun went on ahead?

4: They went there with yesterday's flight

Huh!

5: So, when you said “passport”, earlier- what was it, really?

6: Did you really turned back to go get something?

7: Mhh, how should I put it

8: In order to fulfill the final promise....

Pag 8

1: “The final promise”?

It was

3: a necessary piece

4: You're still wearing that ridiculous hat, Manami?

Ah... it's the one Ashikiba-san wanted last year... (Yuuto)

This is for exclusive use during the Inter High

Ohh... “exclusive use”, cool (Tobirama)

Pag 9

2: Kyoto... Kyoto...

7: Small fries!!

Pag 10

1: Then, should we go?

Are you...

Pag 11

1: finally ready?!

2: Yes....!!

3: Mi!!

6: This year's victory will be ours

Our long-awaited victory

Pag 12

1: It's checkmate!!

2: They're coming!!

3: They're coming!! One by one, to this land of Kyushu!!

4: Won't it favour us!? It's our hometown – us, Kumamoto Daichi!!

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

sheesh speaking of psychic damage, bro is trying to kill himself with his mind here

[britneyshakespeare]

literary theses are so hard to come up with when i choose to write about things i really truly love with that emotional, subjective part of me that is the true professor in my heart... like i know how to analyze texts... but can't i instead just tell you about all the beautiful, magical parts instead?