#but when he decides to do it all himself you get army of the dead

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

This was, as they say, a glow up

[lcriedlastnight]

Hi can i pls request a lando x reader where he mentions in many interviews that he wants an army of kids and the camara always pans to other drivers teasing reader

ofc you can baby <33 thanks for helping me celebrate! here's that kiss i promised xoxo

requests are open!

852 words.

it wasn't unknown that lando wanted kids. it's not like he went out of his way to to talk about having children either, he just went on half an hour tangents anytime an interviewer brought up the topic is all. you didn't find out just how many until you decided to ask him about it one night, not long after lando had gotten slandered on twitter for being 'obsessed' with having a mini version of himself running around.

"so.. you know how you've said you want kids?" you start, voice a little hesitant knowing he was a bit peeved about the bullying he was getting online for that very thing. if looks could kill you swear you would be a dead girl.

"don't you start." he groans, eyes rolling so hard to the of his head you thought they may get stuck.

lando, who had just gotten ready for bed, slips in beside you and you immediately know he's not actually pissed off at you because he is pulling your arm to get you as close to him as he physically could.

"i don't mean it like that, i just wanted to ask you about it." lando watches as you strain your neck up to be able to see his reaction from your very comfortable position on his chest. it does bring the smallest of smiles to his lips.

with a joking sigh he asks "what do you want to know?".

"well, i guess the most important one is-"

"if i want them with you?" lando interrupts, sending your brows into your hairline. you smack him on the back of the head and he just laughs like it was actually funny. dickhead.

"no! how many you want. but now i don't want any with you if they're going to turn out like you." you cross your arms over your chest, trying to convince him you actually were in a huff. a strong hand running down your front seconds after ruins your plans for any further annoyance though.

lando hums in thought before he answers your question. his hand now drawing random shapes on your hip bone.

"you're going to hate me when i say this, but i only really wanted a few maybe two max? but being with you? i want minimum four."

your gasp makes him wince. you're shocked, there is no way he is actually being serious. you tell him as much but he shakes his head and assures you just how serious he is.

"honestly baby. i want a big family with you."

his words may or may not rile you and you guys maybe get started on that big family that night, but you don't kiss and tell..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

lando wasn't to hold back on his thoughts or feelings and with his rants about wanting to start a family were proof of this, well you had thought so. the next time you're at the paddock is the next time he's asked about starting a family. you're watching from the side with max and oscar as he gets interviewed and you can see the say his whole face lights up at the question, as if racing was a chore he was getting forced to do every few weekends and not the second favourite part of his life.

lando takes a quick glance in your direction before he starts and it's like your conversation on the topic opened the floodgates in lando's mind as he reveals his every thought on having a baby or two or ten.

"me and my girlfriend were talking about this and it made me realise i want a full on norris army of children behind me. i want minimum four with my girl. ideally two of each but wouldn't even complain if all i had was girls because then that means that there would be so much more of my girl out there in the world, and little parts of me i guess too." lando's smile is splitting and the interviewer smiles back at him, loving seeing him being so open and honest about it.

"would you encourage your little ones to get involved in karting and racing?" she enquires. you can already picture taking your imaginary children along to watch lando in his races. it does make your heart skip a beat or two.

as the interview continues, unbeknown to you and the other two drivers who are making kissy faces at pretending to cradle a child in their arms just to tease you and how much lando was infatuated with the idea of kids with you, the camera pans in your direction to get a nice reaction shot to your boyfriend's words.

all they capture is your bright red face, from the teasing and lando blunt words, and the boys childish behaviour.

that night is then filled with lando teasing (and comforting) you as it was now your turn to get teased on twitter, millions of fans already making your reaction a meme. you knew you'd never live it down and a small part of you was excited to explain the video and reaction picture to those future kids.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬

↳ warnings: none

↳ song: hells greatest dad—various artists

↳ notes: this turned out way longer than expected. reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• What you did with your spare time outside the hotel had never been a problem

• Everyone blew off steam in different ways. Husk gambled is days away at dinghy bars, Vaggie practiced sparing, and Sir Pentious dreamed up designs for his retired war machines. The important thing was that everyone knew better than to ask the other about it

• So your friendship with Lucifer never come up. At least, not until Charlie decided to invite her dad over one day

• You were well aware of the strange relationship you had with the king of hell. He was all powerful ,and technically your ruler, sure, but it was hard to view him that way after you caught him babying a small army of rubber ducks

• It had been such a long time since you’d first met him, honestly you were still surprised you’d remembered it

• Back when you still worked as a part time package deliverer for the UPS equivalent of hell, you’d been tasked with handing off a rather heavy, and rather odd shaped box. The label didn’t give an address, rather a small drawing of an apple with a snake curled around it

• It took you a while, and way too many u-turns, to arrive at a pair of tall metal gates

• An uncertain push of a button had been delivered to a nearby buzzer, and you briefly wondered if you had been sent on a dead end errand. Your boss liked to do that; said it kept his employees on their toes. You just thought that he enjoyed seeing the pissed off looks of returnees

• Nothing longer than a minute passed before you were answered with an overjoyed voice, sounding rushed and getting father away from the mic as he proclaimed ‘I’ll be right down Terrance!!’

• It was only when Lucifer himself had opened the gates to allow you in, that his face fell from an excited grin into one of confusion

• “Oh. You’re not my normal guy.” He frowned, looking up at you slightly. “Are you sure you have my package.”

• You simply showed him the address label’s drawing, and he nodded

• “Yeah that’s it alright.” A little bit of the enthusiasm he had shown at the sight of his delivery reappeared before you. It didn’t take long after that before he remembered that you were both still standing outside the towering stature of his house, and quickly invited you inside so you could help him move the package where he wanted it

• “So! Is Terrance sick or something? I could have sworn it was just yesterday that he was where you are now.  Or a few days. Maybe a few weeks. Alright it’s been a while, but can you blame me. Do you know who I’m talking about? Long horns, red splotches, and a weird amount of hands. He always had the funniest jokes to tell though— “

• The first impression of him you got was weird. For the ruler of hell at least. But as time went on, and you kept delivering packages to his house with each passing month, he just struck you as lonely. His house, while big, was always empty. You would go as far as to say that you were the only steady interaction he had. Even if you were technically required to visit him

• Eventually, you quit your job. It had been a long time coming, and you were looking forward to a different take on life away from packing peanuts and scotch tape. Yet, for some reason, you didn’t stop showing up at Lucifers place. And he didn’t stop letting you in

• “You know—“ The devil approached you one hot afternoon in his work room. It was actually quite cold outside, but the fire breathing duck in his hands had heated up the room something fierce upon demonstration. “If you ever need someplace to stay, my daughter has a passion project that she wont stop talking about. It’s pretty sparse in souls, and I’m sure she’d let you stay there as long as you went along with her plan that she has!”

• You tilted your head with a small hum that day, choosing not to mention the far away look in Lucifers eyes as he talked about his daughter

• “Sounds better than where I’m currently living.” You shrugged, handing him a spare bolt off of the floor when it rolled off his work desk. “Where is the place?”

• So you’d shown up on the Hazbin Hotel’s doorstep, then still known as the Happy Hotel, with a bag or two in had and asking for a room

• You hadn’t told Charlie that Lucifer had mentioned it to you. You didn’t want her to feel like you were only there because he dad had named dropped it, but you guessed that she had her suspicions. You didn’t seem very taken with her title as princess of hell after all

• You were there nearly as long as Angel Dust; the likes of which showed up in the room next to yours a week after the move

• That means you were present for the embarrassing news interview, and in turn, the introduction of Alastor as a new patron

• He had been annoyed by you at first. Unlike Charlie’s slight nervousness at his appearance, or Vaggie’s outright aggression, you practically ignored his spectacular entrance, save for a few quick comments

• That had bugged Alastor. You’d hardly reacted when he’d shown just a sliver of his powers. Your lackluster once over as he pulled the darling Nifty from a fireplace had given him nothing to go on. Nothing!

• “Now what’s your role here, my friend!” The Radio Demon practically sang to you on that same afternoon. He waltzed over to your position in a corner, and his smile thinned slightly as you barely spared a glance at him. You found yourself much more enthralled with the sight of Husk fending off Angel’s advances over at the bar

• “I’m a tenant.” You mumbled, looking right through him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed down at you in an unreadable emotion that day

• He took to annoying you for the remainder of his stay following his debut. With every day, he increased his pestering, and you continued to remain the same

• Neither of you made a breakthrough with the other for quite a while. Months passed, and he found you looking as disinterested as ever with his display of powers. At this point he was sure you were purposely giving him nothing just to see his smile crack at the edges. And he was getting frustrated, for a lack of better words

• It wasn’t until you’d wandered into his recording studio by mistake that something changed

• Alastor felt a disturbance in the air the moment you stepped foot in his little alcove. Territorial demons such as himself could always tell when somebody was trespassing on their land, especially when having as much power as he did, and you were no exception to this rule

• He materialized behind you almost instantly. His limbs were already beginning to crack and stretch in size, a glowing smile casting wild shadows all throughout the room as he searched for what was sure to be your cowering form as you dropped whatever item you were attempting to steal

• Instead, he found you kneeling to the side of his polished desk, blinking up at him as your hands sat frozen in the motion of flipping through a record basket. His record basket

• “And what, pray tell—” Alastor’s distorted voice sounded like an screeching echo. He wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the hotel could hear it from downstairs “—are you doing here my dear?”

• You didn’t say anything for a moment. He watched as your eyes flickered to this symbols floating around him, then back down to his face

• “I was looking for some good music. Sorry to intrude” You eventually pull out of your weird staring match with him. Dusting the seat of your pants off, you rise to walk past him and towards the door

• Alastor’s mouth opens to say something, but stops when you pause in the doorframe

• “Nice antlers by the way.” You shrug. He doesn’t have to look up to know your talking about the honey structures protruding from his forehead. They really only come out when he starts to take on his true demonic form, and never before has he had someone compliment them

• Before he can get a better read on you, you’re gone

• Turns out, you weren’t exactly unimpressed with him. Just wary in your own way. It was a slight hit to the overlords ego that he hadn’t been able to pick up on that so quick, but he’d never admit it. Instead he took to your new attitude with rigorous mischief 

• Music and murder had been the thing to bridge the gap between the two of you. When Alastor discovered you were particularly fascinated by his time period, he laughed heartily

• “Why my dear, you should have told me you had such good taste!” He wrapped a tight arm around your shoulders. “What is it you wish to know about the darling 1920’s?”

• “Did you really feed your victims to alligators?”

• “Hah! That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” He said while flicking your nose. You just hummed with a scrunch of your eyebrows and wriggled out of his grip. Alastor laughed at that

• You wouldn’t classify the two of you as friends necessarily, but Husk did mention one day that the fact he didn’t kill you that day in his recording studio stood for something

• “He’s murdered demons for less.” The grumpy cat told you. You chose not to respond

• Everything came to a head the day Lucifer showed up at the request of his daughter

• He didn’t notice you right away, instead doing a little dance with Razzle and Dazzle as the rest of the hotel watched on confused. Angel tossed you a look and you just shrugged

• Lucifer eventually spotted you standing by the scrappy welcome table. With the same exuberance that you'd seen time and time again before, he hugged you almost immediately

• “Good to see you again too, Luce. Heard you were coming over.” You exhaled after he set you down. You chose to ignore Alastor as he stepped out of his shadows and stood behind you ominously. You could almost feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of your head

• “Ah so this is his majesty! You’re a bit shorter than I expected.” Alastor’s voice was a bit more grating than you recalled. His grip on his cane tightened as you raised your eyebrow at him

• “Uh, excuse me. Exactly who are you? Lucifer gave the overlord a once over, looking very bored as he did so

• An eye twitch

• “Why the Radio Demon of course! Manager to this very fine establishment, and a—!” 

• “Nope. Never heard of you. Sorry.” Lucifer cut Alastor off and smiled tensely from next to you, not sounding sorry at all

• It became apparent very quickly that the two of them didn’t mix. If a competitive musical number didn’t convince you of that, the way the both of them wouldn’t let go of your arms sure did. By the end point of Lucifer’s visit, you were sure a bruise or two had formed on your forearms

• “You know you should really come visit me more!” Lucifer adjusted his hat as he spoke, sending you a sharp toothed smile as he prepared to step out the door. “I’m sure you get tired of this hotel sometimes. Or at least the people—“

• “I’m sure you’ll find they are perfectly happy with their arrangement!” Alastor didn’t let Lucifer finish his thought. His shadows were getting restless at this point, stretching in the three of yours direction as if attempting to push Lucifer out. At this point Charlie and Vaggie had stopped paying attention to the weird power play between the two of them, instead talking about their upcoming trip to heaven together, so you were all alone. Save for two of your friends that were acting really weird

• "You know maybe the two of you shouldn't hang out."

• "Agreed."

[ellecdc]

Hi!! I love love love your Finnick fics. I saw your requests are open and thought I would try one!

I was thinking reader and Finnick reuniting in either District 13 or after in the capitol when the rebels have taken it over. It could be a separation due to an Annie situation or something different. No worries if this doesn’t sound interesting to you! 🤍

thanks for your request! I absolutely love the district 13 reunion trope, but I had never read one based in the Capitol before so I decided to give that one a try. I hope I did it justice!

Finnick Odair x fem!reader who he will always find [1.5k words]

CW: potentially ooc Finnick BUT I did it on purpose because I think his unyielding loyalty and sense of duty is what ultimately killed him so SUE ME for making him selfish just ONCE 😭, angst with a happy ending

Everything Finnick had endured and smiled through since his own Games back at merely 14 years old had been for the benefit of others. The only thing he has ever done for himself was survive his games; and that was more out of desperation and instinct than it was out of any sense of pride. He dressed for the Capitol, he performed for the Capitol, he sold himself to the Capitol in order to keep his family and loved ones safe, he showed up every year in order to give other children a fighting fucking chance to survive their own games, he agreed to protect the Mockingjay for the rebellion, he sacrificed his oldest and dearest friend for their cause and almost lost another. 

He did his best to make another district feel like home even though his heart had quite literally been ripped away from him, all for the benefit of the cause, and even joined their army. 

Today, Finnick had one thing he needed to do for himself. And anyone who found fault with that could, quite frankly, suck his dick. 

“Finnick?” Katniss asks, looking up from the electronic map on the Holo in front of her. “Were you listening?” 

Finnick watches Gale’s jaw tighten at his lack of attention and fights against an eyeroll of his own. That was yet another thing Finnick had been doing as of late: playing mediator for this godawful love triangle. 

“Uhm, listen,” Finnick starts, looking around at the faces of squad 451, “If I get the chance, I’ll meet back up with the rest of you at the president's mansion, okay?” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Gale starts, standing from his crouched position, prompting Finnick to do the same. “Like hell you’re taking off; the plan was to stick together.”

“The plan was to film propos; that plan has changed, and before I go any further, I have someone I need to find.” 

“Finnick…” Katniss starts, tone dripping with pity as she follows him when he takes a few steps backwards and away from the group. “Wait!”

“I’ve done my waiting, Katniss.”

“You can’t just leave!” She calls, prompting him to turn back towards her.

“You got Peeta back!” He nearly sobs, flinging an arm out towards said boy; slightly worse for wear yet still on his feet. “He’s a little broken but he’s in there, Katniss. And even if he wasn’t, at least you know he’s alive. I need to find my Peeta.”

Katniss lets out a sad sigh; eyes searching his face for any signs of hesitation. Finnick knew she’d find none. “She wasn’t with the others; what if she’s already gone?”

Gone. She meant dead. What if you were already dead?

“I would happily die next to her, Katniss. But I won’t die for a movement that means nothing if she’s not here with me.”

Finnick ignores the heat of tears lining his cheeks as he watches Katniss recall how she very nearly gave up on the entire cause herself when she found out Peeta had been taken by the Capitol from the arena. 

Well, Katniss referred to it as left behind, but Peeta was snatched; you were left behind. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

“Listen, we had little time to react; the moment came upon us faster than anyone anticipated and she was nowhere to be found, Odair. I looked; I searched for her, but Plutarch said we had to go.” Haymitch had explained to him.

“I protected YOUR MOCKINGJAY.” Finnick had screamed. “I protected her at the cost of Mags and Johanna. I protect Katniss, you protect my girl; that was the deal.”

“Finnick-”

“That was the deal, and you LEFT HER BEHIND!?” 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Finnick had gotten violent, and not on purpose. He had to be sedated for three days after that, and they considered doing it again after Peeta was aired by the capitol, but you and Johanna weren’t. He was sedated again after Peeta and Johanna were rescued from the Capitol, but you were not. 

He was officially back in your last known whereabouts. He didn’t know if he’d find you, but he had to look. 

“We…” Finnick starts as he takes a deep breath, wiping the tears from his face before turning his attention back to someone he had come to consider a friend. “We had somewhere…that we would meet. No one else knew of it, it was safe; if she’s here, I just-”

But Katniss simply nods. “You have to try.”

“I have to try.” He parrots.

Katniss’ eyes flicker between Finnick’s before she suddenly embraces him; the act seemingly shocking both Finnick and herself as he tentatively returns the embrace. 

“Be careful.”

Finnick tries to laugh as he pats her on the back before pulling away. “You be careful; you’re the one they’re all after.”

“We’ll see you out there?” She asks as he backs away. 

Finnick nods. “Look out for one another, yeah?” 

With one final wave - Peeta offering a cautious one of his own while everyone else (save Gale) waved back - Finnick began his journey to the last spot he could possibly hope for you to be.

You itched to leave; to look for him. He was here; after all these weeks he was actually here.

You’d managed to take off early on in the chaos and confusion following the arena being blown up; heart breaking yet simultaneously leaping at the sight of Plutarch’s hovercraft taking off without you, knowing they were going to go rescue your boy.

You let that knowledge be enough as you fought to put enough space between you and the peacekeepers tasked with finding you. 

You managed to overtake two of them, slipped into one of their uniforms and stole their weapons before going to the last place you could think that might possibly be safe; the last place you could think that Finnick might possibly find you. 

The radios you’d pilfered from the peacekeepers alerted you to rebel presence a few days ago, and it was later confirmed that a team including three victors - the Mockingjay, Peeta, and Finnick - were here. 

Here. 

You paced a hole in the floor as you considered your options. The city was large, dangerous, and you’d have to stay hidden; if he saw what appeared to be a peacekeeper approaching him, he’d have to kill you. 

But you could be sitting here indefinitely if you simply waited for him. What if he was in danger? What if he needed you? What if you could help?

Your spiralling was interrupted by a quiet knock on the makeshift door. 

There was a reasonable - perhaps hopeful - part of you that knew if it was a peacekeeper or other rebel forces, they wouldn’t have bothered knocking or alerting you to their presence. 

But years of violence and conflict found you pulling the neckguard of your stolen uniform over your mouth and nose - leaving your eyes and hair exposed - as you moved in the direction of the door with your weapon raised. 

Before you have a moment to react, the door swings open quickly and you are face to face - or, rather, gun to gun - with the love of your life. 

“Finnick?” You whisper, keeping your gun raised as Finnick lowers his own and looks at you with an expression mixed with grief and unadulterated relief. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He lets out with a soft sob, and your gun falls to the ground with a clatter as you throw yourself at him. 

He catches you; of course he catches you. 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You nearly sob as he lowers the two of you to the ground; overwhelmed with emotions, his legs give out on him as he keeps you pressed tight against his torso. “I can’t believe it. Oh my god.”

You’re nearly keening as you alternate between pressing as many kisses to Finnick’s lips, cheeks, jaw, head - anything you can get your lips on, really - sobbing, and nearly strangling him with the desperation of your embrace. 

“I found you, I found you” Finnick chants like a prayer. “I can’t believe I found you. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’re quickly shaking your head as you take hold of his face between your hands. “You don’t have to be sorry; you did exactly what you were supposed to.”

“They left you behind.” He cries. 

“They saved you.” 

He shakes his head but doesn’t argue, simply lowering his forehead to yours as his hands trail up and over your arms, sliding up your neck and then back down again as though he can’t help but touch every single part of you. 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” You repeat again. “I can’t believe you found me.”

“I will always find you.” He insists, pulling your face from where you try shoving it into his neck only to hold it in front of him as he stares at you imploringly. “Do you hear me? I will always find you. I will always find you.” 

“I know, Finn.” You agree. “I know you will.”

[captainmalewriter]

No Escape From Cheating

Oliver Ashley hopped into his car and let out a heavy sigh. It was a warm August afternoon that day, and Ash would rather do anything else than spend his Tuesday getting verbally berated by his superiors for several hours. But despite his grievances, Ash knew there was no point in bitching and whining when this was the life he had signed up for a little over a year ago. All he could do was suck it up until his term of service ended. 

Ash never thought he’d end up serving in the army. He wasn’t the patriotic type by any means. What made him pull the trigger and sign the contract was his desire to start over in life. Ash’s life started going downhill ever since he graduated from high school. He dropped out of college after the first semester, was stuck working a dead-end job he hated, and was trapped in a loveless relationship with a girl he had grown to loathe. After a night of intense drinking, partying, and group sex with random strangers, Ash realized he hated the man he had become. He was disgusted by what he saw in the mirror, so he decided to make a few changes. 

Or rather, a lot of changes. Ash abandoned his old life in Oldeville and ran away to join the military. It was a drastic move— Ash was well-aware of that, but he felt it was necessary to get his life back on track. He took back control by giving up control. 

After yet another long day at work, Ash returned to his room in the barracks. He took a quick shower and threw himself onto his bed with his hands held against his head. The day drained him. All he wanted was to fall asleep fast and hope he’d wake up feeling refreshed. But as he laid against his pillow with his eyes closed, he felt a sudden gust of cold wind hit his body. 

“Hrmphhh!” Ash jolted in bed when it hit him. The pressure was unlike he had ever experienced before. The cold penetrated deep within his body, leaving goosebumps around his skin. 

Ash sat up and scanned his surroundings. The window was closed, and as far as he could tell, nothing looked weird or out of place in his little room. Ash wasn’t sure where that cold wind came from but decided he was too tired to really care about it. He simply ignored it and went back to sleep. But as he snored peacefully, the cause of the cold wind slithered out from underneath his bed. It crept up his bed and watched as Ash’s chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. Then, it made a nose dive straight into Ash’s mouth. 

“Ugh— AAAGH!!!” Ash gagged as the thing invaded his body. 

It slithered inside him at breakneck speeds. With every passing second, Ash could feel an otherworldly presence growing inside his skin. It sent cold chills up his spine. With one final wet slurp, Ash swallowed the last few inches of the translucent body invader. Naturally, Ash shot out of bed after what he had just experienced. He was sweating and breathing heavily as his hands reached out to touch his throat. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to pinpoint the cause but couldn’t find anything. Ash knew something very wrong was happening but had no idea where to start looking for answers. 

As his mind raced with possibilities, Ash’s hand began moving toward his family jewels. Ash watched in horror as his hand moved without his command. His hand massaged his junk through his underwear until blood started flowing into it, causing a tent to form in his briefs. Ash tried telling his hand to stop, but it wouldn’t listen. All Ash could do was scream in terror. 

“What the fuck is going on!?”

Hey Olie, did you miss me? I certainly missed you.

Ash swallowed a breath. He heard a voice echo inside his mind, but it wasn’t just any voice; it was the voice of his old girlfriend, Leah. 

“Leah!? How did you find me!? And what the fuck are you doing inside my body—” Ash gasped. He tried opening his mouth to speak again, but to no avail. He had been cut off from the last part of his body he had control over. 

Shhh! Not so loud babe! Your neighbors might hear us!! I don’t want to spoil our fun tonight while we’re together…

Under his girlfriend’s control, Ash took off the last piece of clothing he had on. His rock-hard member sprang up as soon as it was released from the mesh fabric. Ash then hopped back into bed with his legs spread wide open. He spat some spit onto his hands and began pumping his thick cock. For some reason, his dick was extra sensitive. The sensation of his warm, wet hand wrapping around it made Leah moan inside his mind, forcing Ash to moan alongside her as a result. Ash was humiliated after letting out such a high-pitched, girlish moan, but with Leah controlling his action, there was nothing he could do about it.

Leah!! Why are you doing this?

Why? Why!? Don’t act stupid! You know exactly why! You left without saying anything to anyone! Not even me, your girlfriend!! Did you really think you could just run away without any consequences? You really thought I wouldn’t be able to track you down eventually?

Listen Leah! I’m sorry for leaving you the way I did but can’t we just talk about this like adults? If it’s my dick you’re after, we can just fuck one more time! I’m cool with that!!

Leah uttered a loud cackle within Ash’s subconscious after he said that. Ash swallowed a breath. He had a feeling he just dug himself an even deeper hole.

Wow! Just how egotistical can you be, Oliver? You really think this about getting one last fuck out of you! Men are soo fucking easy, I don’t need to hunt you down across the country just to get some!

Well then why ARE you here you crazy ass bitch!?

Simple. I want revenge.

Revenge for what? For leaving you without saying anything?

Partially that, yes, but mainly for cheating on me. Remember that big party you went to the night before you left? The one you swore to me you weren’t going to go to?

Ash wracked his brain trying to remember, but once he did, he remained quiet. Leah was right, and he knew it. 

You said I was enough for you. You said there was nothing wrong with our relationship. You lied to me. You had me believing everything was fine, just to go off and party with a bunch of people! 

Leah tightened her grip around his cock as she yelled at him. Ash winced from the pain. He had nothing to say in his defense. 

I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, but I don’t take cheating lightly.  

Just as Leah said that, a second blob manifested at the foot of the bed. It hopped onto Ash’s foot and slithered up his leg.

Leah— What’s that? What’s going on!?

If you want a threesome so bad, then I’m here to give it to you. Oliver, this is Aaron, although I’m sure I don’t need to introduce you two. After all, he was one of the many, many people you were fucking that night.

Aaron slithered up to Ash’s hairy hole and brushed around the rim of it. His touch made Ash shudder from the cool sensation. 

Wait!! We don’t have to do this! I can—

It was too late for Ash. Aaron dove right into his virgin hole, causing Ash to recoil from the impact. Leah continued pumping away at Ash’s member with a furious speed to her stroking. Meanwhile, Ash mentally shuddered and thrashed around as Aaron’s presence began growing inside his body. His hole stretched out to accommodate Aaron in his ethereal form. The feeling of Aaron rushing through his ass and into his body was unlike anything Ash had ever experienced before. It filled him up in more ways than one— overwhelming him with sensual pleasure until he was locked in a state of bliss. 

Once Aaron was fully inside, he and Leah took turns playing with the newly possessed body they now shared. They jerked off Ash’s girthy cock, flexed his hard-earned muscles, sniffed his armpits, played with his straight hole, and more. They had both been used by Ash as nothing more than a hole to fuck, but now with his body under their possession, the tables had turned. Now it was Leah and Aaron using Ash’s body to get their rocks off instead. 

Ash was knuckle deep inside his own ass when he finally unleashed his heavy load. Jolts of spunk came flooding out of him, landing all over his bed, walls, and even his torso. He was drained after such an intense tugging session, both literally and figuratively.

“Whewww!! God, that felt so fucking good! Now I see why guys are always touching themselves…” Ash said out loud. No doubt it was Leah using his voice. “Hey, thanks for your help Aaron! I never would’ve thought of doing something like this without your help!”

“Anytime! I’m just glad I got to get one back on this asshole too!”

Ash could hear both of them laughing inside his mind. He groaned.

“Well, I’m out of here. I’ll see you around!!”

With that, Ash arched upward as he felt Leah’s presence leave his body. He watched with relief as she disappeared through the walls. But he quickly remembered it was no time to celebrate, as there was still a second person possessing his body.

“Wait, Leah! Take your gay friend with—”

Under Aaron’s command, Ash’s hand slammed against his mouth. His words came out muffled through his hand for a few seconds, but then gradually died down. Ash settled down into a calm stupor. Then, an eerie smile began to form on his face.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Leah. Really, I should be the one thanking you! After all, I would’ve never found a body like this on my own…”

Aaron hopped out of bed to get a better look at his newly possessed body. He smirked as he rubbed Ash’s load into his skin, his fingertips running along the edges of his new ab lines.

“Oh yeahhh, I think I’m gonna enjoy being a ‘straight’ army hunk for a while. Watch out world, there’s a new Oliver Ashley in town. He’s hot, single, and more than ready to mingle!!”

[moodymisty]

Based off this post sorry I fucking HAD to

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Sicarius walking in on you and Guilliman

Why must all his men break protocol? Sicarius wonders if the Codex is merely kindling to them, if they are so willing to break the sacred rules so easily.

Titus, Uriel, and now new men of second company have decided to be a pain. He only hopes reporting this to Guilliman himself will prove to be enough of a threat to his men and whip them all back into shape; Both current and future troublemakers.

In his frustrations, so wrapped up in his own mind on how to deal with this consistent issue, he fails to do a proper knock at Guilliman’s door. Instead he simply walks in, slamming the controls with more force than needed.

Within moments he freezes, as a musky, heavy smell hits his nose and the full noises of the room echo in his ears without the soundproofing in the way.

“Roboute!”

You squeal, hands wrapped tight in the short crop of Guilliman’s thin blonde hair. Most of his head and face are obscured by your skirt- and thighs, which wrap around his head like a vice. The holotable is on but unused, symbols placed randomly from your accidental touches as you sit on the edge.

Sicarius stands frozen, unable to will his body to move as his ears are suddenly filled with the sounds of you and his primarch’s moans- accompanied by then odd, wet sounds of whatever his mouth was doing. What is only two seconds is plenty to him, given how fast his mind moves in comparison to a baseline.

He… was aware of all the basics of sex and reproduction, but the intricacies of pleasure beyond that were spotty at best. He had no need to delve into such useless things, unlike some other, less proper Astartes.

He was also unaware you could do such things with your mouth.

How beneath a primarch’s holy stature; Guilliman’s words have guided armies but now he’s on his knees in penance and using his tongue like its just a-

A loud scream rips through your throat as you spot him and sit up, and Sicarius’ two seconds of internal thought is interrupted as you see him frozen in the doorway with a hand still on the door’s controls.

Guilliman of course is instantly on the defensive hearing your scream, rising to his feet- and removing his hand from his trousers - before reaching for his blade.

Until he realizes it’s Sicarius.

Guilliman relaxes with an angry look on his face; Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before using the same hand spread flat outward to try and shield some of you from Sicarius, and reserve some of your modesty, while you adjust your clothes.

“Did your time in the warp remove your ability to announce yourself before entering, Captain Sicarius?”

Sicarius is angry at his primarch now, and has zero care for you behind him hot faced and attempting to cover yourself to some level of decency.

“I, I did not think it was needed, my primarch. I have an urgent issue that needs addressing.”

Guilliman angrily breaths through his nose, and Sicarius can see the veins in his neck.

“Go. Leave. Whatever you came here for I am sure it can wait until we both forget this encounter ever happened.”

They are both painfully aware that each other have eidetic memories, but they can only hope this moment somehow slips from their minds.

“Yes, my primarch.”

Sicarius finally manages to get his armor to move, and Guilliman sighs. Sicarius swiftly takes two steps backwards and closes the door, facing it at it closes.

He stands there for a moment, the image of his primarch on his knees between the legs of a simple baseline, and a hand doing something in his trousers is seared into his mind. Why is his primarch doing such things when there is work to be done?

“Are you alright Captain Sicarius?”

A marine says as he walks by, looking at his dead expression as Sicarius turns to face him. He points the door.

“Is Primarch Guilliman busy-“ Sicarius quickly speaks, cutting him off.

“Yes he is busy, do not disturb him.”

Sicarius has a far off stare that makes the random Astartes look at him oddly.

“I need to leave. Do not go in.”

Sicarius walks off, rubbing his hair with his gauntlet and grumbling to himself.

[lazycats-stuff]

Yo, Can u write about Mexican! Batbro (same age or a year older than Damian, like Damian he's a biological son of Bruce) who celebrates dia de muertos, he could make an altar of Thomas and Martha Wayne, he could explain his roots and culture to the batfamily

Sure thing. Damn, Bruce is really mister Worldwide.

Summary: (Y/N) is Mexican. Everyone is curious.

Warnings: nothing bad, talking about Mexican culture, which is really cool with the day of the dead honestly,

Bruce has been thinking about getting a vasectomy, since he has found out about (Y/N), his son who was born and is being raised in Mexico. Bruce slept with a model and hence, (Y/N) was born. His mother loved him, but she wanted (Y/N) to go to the USA, to get a safer life and better education.

Bruce, being ever so suspicious, decided to do a DNA test, just in case. You just never know and Bruce didn't want to be used for his money and a green card for the boy that wasn't his. And once a DNA test showed that Bruce was the father, he took it upon himself to get (Y/N) into the USA and to get him his citizenship.

And immigration is not fun to deal with, everyone knows that. After pulling some connections, (Y/N) managed to get to the USA on a visa for now at least. Bruce has started the process right away with an immigration lawyer, the best on he could find in Gotham city. And since last name Wayne opens up a lot of doors everywhere, Bruce has decided to use that to his advantage.

The boys were not shocked by the news of another biological son. Damian wasn't afraid or threatened and unlike the first time he came to the manor, he's established himself as a biological son. And (Y/N) is a year younger than Damian anyway, so Damian welcomed (Y/N), but of course, it would take time for everyone to adjust to the new addition to the family.

Once (Y/N) settled down in the manor, Bruce sat him down to talk about everything moving forward. Bruce told (Y/N) that he will never prohibit any aspect of his culture and that if there are holidays that are important to him, that they would celebrate it. Bruce didn't want (Y/N) to lose his culture. He wanted (Y/N) to be proud of his culture and seeing the beaming smile on (Y/N)'s face made it all worth it.

So, the two decided to make a list of holidays that are important to him and that they were going to celebrate. (Y/N) made sure to put Día de los Muertos, alongside  Cinco de Mayo and El Grito de Independencia. Which (Y/N) clarified for his brothers. Cinco de Mayo commemorates the bravery of Mexican soldiers who made the French army retreat. El Grito de Independencia is the actual independence day, where they got their independence from Spain.

For some reason, Americans think that Cinco de Mayo is their independence day, which (Y/N) doesn't understand why Americans would think so. Like why? Do they not like to research? (Y/N) couldn't understand it, but decided to let it go since maybe Cinco the Mayo is far more easier to remember for them... No, that doesn't make any sense in that.

Maybe he'll never know.

(Y/N) was doing just fine in school. Bruce noticed how hard working he was. And it wasn't like Bruce had to force him to, he was just doing it on his own. Bruce wondered why, since he was a good student before coming to the USA. (Y/N) just explained how his mother taught that hard work is something that will make him succeed in life. She told him her story of hard work and how she became successful.

And Bruce understood why. (Y/N)'s mom didn't have connections and a last name that could open doors and simply pave the way. Bruce understood that and agreed that his mom did good. You can't expect that last name open up doors for you. Because anything can crumble when you least expect it.

So Bruce encouraged (Y/N) to take breaks, since it's not good to study for a long time. (Y/N) nodded and understood that. He promised Bruce that he would try his best to take breaks and Bruce smiled, knowing that he can't force change over night.

Jason on the other hand, needed help. He couldn't understand Spanish for the life of him. And he asked (Y/N) for help. And (Y/N) was surprisingly a good teacher. Teaching him how to pronounce certain sounds and taught him more than the teacher did. Jason was thankful and (Y/N) had no problem giving him tips he needed to remember certain things.

Dick was more interested in his culture. What were certain traditions of Mexican culture? What were values there? What is something you shouldn't do there? What should you do there? Dick was always more interested in learning about other cultures.

That turned into a nice during dinner. (Y/N) explained his roots and culture to them, beating a few stereotypes along the way and everyone listen intently. (Y/N) also said that he would like to celebrate the Día de los Muertos, reminding them that it start from the eve of October 31st until November 2nd. Bruce nodded having no problem.

What did shock Bruce was that (Y/N) revealed that he made an altar of Martha and Thomas Wayne. Bruce didn't know about it, but wasn't mad. (Y/N) explained what it meant to have an altar. It would mean having pictures of the deceased, alongside some candles and a cross. (Y/N) also added their favorite flowers.

Bruce was touched by that. To have his parents honored and remembered like that was... Touching. And a bit better than the way they do it here in America...

" Can you show the altar to me? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) nodded.

" I will papa. " (Y/N) sipped his water and Bruce nodded. After dinner, (Y/N) would show Bruce the altar of Martha and Bruce Wayne. It was a simply altar, with pictures, probably provided by Alfred, favorite flowers, just like (Y/N) said. There was also a cross.

" And it's normally that simple? " Bruce asked, curiously.

" Well on the Day of the Dead, we make ofrendas, in English language that means offerings. We leave water in the pitcher so that the spirits can quench their thirst, paper banners that are traditional and they represent wind and then we have earth which is normally bread. Then you have candles that are often arranged to look like a cross, so that the spirits can find their way, " (Y/N) explained and Bruce nodded.

" Also, some altars have level. Most elaborate ones have have seven levels, but most have 3 levels. And we also have flowers in Mexico that grow a lot and have a strong smell that is said that spirits are attracted to it to visit their mortal loved ones, " (Y/N) added and Bruce was going to get those flowers for (Y/N), no matter what connections he had to pull.

Bruce nodded as he listened more. He really liked this holiday. It was nice and you can feel closer to your lost ones, rather than in America where you bury your loved ones and then simply visit their grave. Bruce never thought about the spirit of his dead loved ones would come.

But he liked the Mexican mindset on that matter.

" That's a nice way of thinking. That their spirits try to come and visit... " Bruce trailed off, smiling at the altar.

" Whatever you need for the altar, you'll get it. Whatever it is, I'll get it for you. "

(Y/N) nodded, knowing that Bruce would do that.

" Well, you can help with cleaning up the grave, since we take care of the graves to put some offerings there. Oh, you and the rest of the family need to learn a lot. " (Y/N) crossed his arms as he chuckled, Bruce chuckling alongside him.

[sirfrogsworth]

Let's talk about vintage lenses.

Here is your cool samurai show with modern lenses.

Here is your cool samurai show with vintage lenses.

Hollywood is no stranger to fads.

We are currently in the middle of a "make everything too dark" fad. But that fad is starting to overlap with "let's use really old lenses on ridiculously high resolution cameras."

This is Zack Snyder with a Red Monstro 8K camera.

He is using a "rehoused" vintage 50mm f/0.95 Canon "Dream Lens" which was first manufactured in 1961.

This old lens is put inside a fancy new body that can fit onto modern cameras.

Which means Zack is getting nowhere near 8K worth of detail. These lenses are not even close to being sharp. Which is fine. I think the obsession with detail can get a bit silly and sometimes things can be "too sharp."

But it is a funny juxtaposition.

The dream lens is a cool lens. It has character. It has certain aberrations and defects that can actually be beneficial to making a cool photograph. It's a bit like vinyl records for photography.

[ Peter Thoeny ]

It has vignetting and distortion and a very strange swirly background blur.

[ Gabriel Binder ]

Optical engineers have been spending the last 60 years trying to eliminate these defects. And I sometimes wonder if they are confused by this fad.

"I WORKED 70 HOURS PER WEEK TO GET PERFECT CORNER SHARPNESS!"

And whether you prefer to work with a perfect optic or a vintage one... it is a valid aesthetic decision either way. I think vintage glass can really suit candid natural light photography. You can almost get abstract with these lenses.

[ Peter Theony ]

Personally I like to start with as close to perfect as possible and then add the character in later. That way I can dial in the effect and tweak how much of it I want. But even with modern image editing tools, some of these aberrations are difficult to recreate authentically.

That said, it can be very easy for the "character" of these lenses to become distracting. And just like when someone first finds the lens flares in Photoshop, it can be easy for people to overdo things.

Zack Snyder decided to be his own cameraman and used only vintage glass in his recent movies and it has led to some complaints about the imagery.

I mean, Zack Snyder overdoing something? I can't even imagine it.

Non camera people felt Army of the Dead was blurry and a bit weird but they couldn't quite explain why it felt that way.

The dream lens has a very wide aperture and it lets in a lot of light. But it also has a very very shallow depth of field. Which means it is very difficult to nail focus.

[ Peter Thoeny ]

Her near eye is in focus and her far eye is soft. You literally can't get an entire face in focus.

There is no reason you have to use the dream lens at f/0.95 at all times. But just like those irresistible lens flares, Zack couldn't help himself.

Here is a blueprint that you can't really see.

Extreme close ups of faces without autofocus at f/0.95 is nearly impossible to pull critical focus on.

Looks like Zack nailed the area just above the eyebrow here.

Let's try to find the point of focus in this one.

Ummmm... she is just... blurry. Missed focus completely.

But Zack isn't the only one going vintage. I've been seeing this a lot recently.

Shogun is a beautiful show. And for the most part, I really enjoyed the cinematography. But they went the vintage lens route and it kept going from gorgeous to "I can't not see it" distracting. And perhaps because I am familiar with these lens defects I am more prone to noticing. But I do think it hurt the imagery in a few spots.

Vingetting is a darkening of the corners of the frame.

Light rays in the corners are much harder to control. A lot of modern lenses still have this problem, but they create software corrections to eliminate the issue. Some cameras do it automatically as you are recording the image.

Vintage lenses were built before lens corrections where a thing—before software was a thing. So you either have to live with them, try to remove them with VFX, or crop into your image and lose some resolution.

It's possible this is the aesthetic they wanted. They felt the vignetting added something to the image. But I just found my eyes darting to the corners and not focusing on the composition.

And then you have distortion.

In this case, barrel distortion.

This is mostly prominent in wide angle lenses. In order to get that wider field of view the lens has to accept light from some very steep angles. And that can be quite difficult to correct. So you kind have to sacrifice any straight lines.

And sometimes this was a positive contribution to the image.

I thought the curved lines matched the way they were sitting here.

But most of the time I just felt like I was looking at feudal Japan through a fish's eye.

It's a bit more tolerable as a still, but when all of these verticals are bowing in motion, I start to feel like I am developing tunnel vision.

I love that this is a tool that is available. Rehousing lenses is a really neat process and I'm glad this old glass is getting new life.

This documentary shows how lens rehousing is done and is quite fascinating if you are in to that sort of thing.

But I think we are in a "too much of a good thing" phase when it comes to these lenses. I think a balance between old and new can be found.

And I also think maybe Zack should see what f/2.8 looks like. He might like having more than an eyebrow in focus.

[laswells-ashtray]

I personally really like the idea of the Shadows being kinda like Phillip's lil family. So...

On an op before 141, the fucker gets injured pulling a Shadow away from a rotting patch of wooden floor while sweeping an old church. He lands himself a fractured ankle, splinters quite literally up the ass, and bruising like a bitch after falling through the floor himself.

So nothing too bad.

He comes off the comes off the painkillers to a hoard of puppy-eyed men in various stages of uniform dress.

Blah blah blah fluff happens

His ass hurts. It shouldn't be his first thought but his ass hurts. The same way it did when he took a drunken tumble down a flight of stairs as a teenager and bruised half of his damn body. He knows that after that shitshow of a job [that they'd been paid an abysmally low amount for given the conditions] he had showered, changed into sweatpants, taken some good quality fucking painkillers and he conked out on the closest surface.

Which he now realises is the old ass couch they all collectively refuse to get rid of despite its various stains and the knife stuck in one of its legs. He blinks before rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. There are at least five Shadows around him, maybe six. They might be multiplying.

Oz catches his eye and he looks far too amused for someone that still owes him ten dollars and a Costco hotdog, but he'll bring up that bet later.

"Feeling alright, commander?"

He stares back at the man with an unamused look, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He was being watched like he was holding a bag of fries and he'd just stepped into pigeon territory.

"Fuck are you starin' for? Oz, if there's a dick on my face-"

"There isn't, couldn't take one of the kids into doing it. Just wondering if you're hungry because you took those painkillers on an empty stomach then passed out half-dead."

Damn right, none of the younger Shadows would draw a dick on his face. They were too scared to, Oz? Not so much but he was stuck with the shithead at this point.

"Could go something. Mind telling me why you've got a small army of Shadows present for this conversation?"

"Well, Petrillo was here to look at your ankle while you were too unconscious to notice. Garfield is here to try and talk you into buying Chick-fil-A with company money. And-"

"My name isn't Garfield-"

"You hate Mondays. Anyway, and the kids are here because they've never seen you land on your ass like that before and wanted to check how you're doing but they're too scared to ask for themselves."

That checks. He looks around at the three younger Shadows who have all now decided to stop staring at him and instead at the floor.

"Christ, I'm fine. If you can't take a fall like that then you can't do the fucking job. And I'll pay for the Chick-fil-A but I ain't going to get it, drag your lazy ass to do it."

Only then does he notice the fact that there's a bag of frozen peas under his ankle.

[andre-and-cal]

freaky headcanons now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 Caldre Headcanons :3

GUYS LMK IF YOU WANT TOP CAL & BOTTOM ANDRE HEADCANONS NEXT cuz I have sm ideas for those but I’m too shy to do it without an ask ngl so Plsplspls lmk !! 🙏🙏

These were long overdue I’m sawry I’m a #slacker… more headcanons coming soon heh zeroplan I see yew…

But uhHh here r my headcanons yippee I wanna incorporate these into my fics >_<

NSFW

Top Andre, Bottom Cal

Andre has a habit of slapping a hand over Cal’s mouth and muffling his moans, especially when he’s doing him from behind in a risky environment. He’ll have one hand on his mouth, and the other on his crotch, whispering “Shhh, shhhh, shut the fuck up,” in his ear while pounding into him relentlessly. It gives Andre a rush whenever he hears Cal’s noises get all muffled against the palm of his hand, and to feel the moisture of his lips pressing against his skin and Cal’s hot, wet, shaky breaths of air fanning into his hand.

Calvin secretly used to fingerfuck himself and imagine that it was Andre’s fingers. Whenever he’d smuggle porno tapes at the store— gay porno— he’d slip a finger or two inside his ass and envision Andre in between his legs and doing it for him. But the first time he decided to start exploring himself in this way, when he went knuckles deep and finally found his prostate, he came quick, and he experienced a high he never knew was possible. He used to be too embarrassed to admit that he did this, but he no longer needs to because he has Andre to finger him or fuck him instead, just as he’d hoped.

Andre was very careful the first time he and Cal had sex, when he took Cal’s virginity. He didn’t want to hurt him, and he was constantly asking him if he was okay. Their first time was slow, but they both savored every moment of it. Andre secretly likes when Cal wants him to go slow, because it gives him a chance to explore Calvin’s body. Calvin goes insane— in a good way, of course— whenever he feels those hands caressing his hips or feeling up his sides and waist and his body as a whole. Calvin feels appreciated and pretty, while not feeling shameful over that fact anymore.

Calvin’s favorite position is doggy style. He really loves the feeling of Andre shoving his face into his pillows, ‘cause Cal always imagines him as like some sergeant in the army, even while feeling his cock sliding in and out of his tightness. Cal will force Andre to wear his dog tag along with him so that it feels more… “army-like” in Cal’s words. Andre makes fun of him for describing it that way though. While he’s into the military as much as Cal is, he doesn’t really show it all too much for fear his parents will get suspicious of their Zero Day plans, so he forces Cal to tone it down as well.

Andre allows himself to be vulnerable around Calvin. But only really when Cal’s asleep, drunk, or high, at least. During aftercare, sometimes when Cal’s half-asleep and drifting off into slumberland, Andre will mumble into Cal’s shoulder— if he’s spooning him that time— about how he’s gonna miss him if push comes to shove with Zero Day. It’s a brief, rare moment of “weakness” for Andre, but he does like to speak fondly of Cal whenever they’re alone together, where no one can disturb them or anything. Now, going back to my point, Andre never knew that they were going to be shooting themselves together on Zero Day rather than going through with the initial plans. Rather, he fully expected them to be able to go through with the plans of escaping in his car, but a tiny part of him knew they were gonna be dead no matter what happened. He never liked to admit this to himself though, remaining in denial about the recklessness of the whole “getaway” thing. Either way, he half-hopes that Cal hears and knows that he’ll always love him, no matter what happens with Zero Day. And on Zero Day, prior to ending his life alongside Calvin after the shooting, his last coherent thought was along the lines of how he was going to try to find Cal in the afterlife— or whatever place they both would end up roaming together.

Occasionally, even while Andre’s shoving his shaft balls deep inside his ass— Cal will find the opportunity to piss him off, even through his little whimpers. He’s just like that; Cal’s middle name is practically Sarcastic. His witty nature will piss Andre off sometimes too— especially if it’s a situation where Andre clearly isn’t fucking laughing. While it does prompt him to grow rough with Cal, it turns on the both of them, because they both know Cal only does it to— well, demand without actually demanding for Andre to fuck him harder. Whenever Calvin does say some smartass shit during sex, Andre will go as far as to strangling Cal— especially while they’re doing missionary. It’s easy access to his neck anyway, and also that familiar deep, dark part of Andre gets really turned on by the feeling of Cal’s pulse drumming underneath his fingers. With this, it also helped Andre coin the nickname “punk” and various other insults in German— for Cal.

Calvin is a bit of a risk-taker and has begged Andre to load Milena and have him blow her— loaded. Eventually, after begging one too many times, Andre finally agreed. The day he agreed, Andre made it seem like they were going out to simply shoot guns together to practice for Zero Day, but as soon as he unpacked Milena from his father’s closet as Cal kept on going on about sucking on Milena, he instead turned around and shoved the barrel so far into Calvin’s mouth that it nearly hit his tonsils. And eventually, it did. He’d nudged Cal to the ground with the gun, kneeling over him as he forced him to take the barrel deep in his throat, even when it got too much for Cal and he tried to push on his chest to get him off. Andre didn’t stop until he’d pulled out his own cock from his jeans and jerked himself off, cumming all over Cal’s face and lips. Despite Calvin’s initial resistance as he began to choke on the barrel, he quickly grew hard, so he got himself off shortly after Andre released his load onto his pretty face.

Initially, Andre also felt off-put at the idea of dirty talking, even going on to dislike it. He was determined to stay quiet or hold back any noises and grunts he might make while planning his first time with Cal, a little after they’d started dating. But every time he noticed the drastic increase in the little noises Cal made whenever Andre muttered the occasional, “Shit, mein Schatz— so tight,” ,, “You like that, yeah?” ,, or something of the sort in German, he became more confident to speak like this to Calvin when they’re alone. After developing more of his “dirty-talking skills”, he got into the habit of praising Cal during sex. He goes from genuinely praising him for taking his cock or his fingers up his ass or when he’s fucking the back of Cal’s throat with his member, and then going to tauntingly praising him for being a “big brave boy” whenever Andre’s spanking him or making him take his gun in his mouth.

Whenever Cal and Andre are arguing and it gets real heated and loud between them, if Cal initiates mildly hostile physical contact— such as with pushing, shoving, yelling, or getting all up in Andre’s face, Andre will bounce it right back to him. Andre struggles with his anger a bit more-so than Cal in some ways— so one day he snapped and shoved Cal, to the point where he fell back into his bookcase. Calvin was a little stunned by Andre’s outward expression of aggression toward him, but as soon as he felt a heat coiling in his groin— he knew he wanted more, so he continued taunting Andre until he was ultimately… well— grabbed by the arm and yanked onto the bed. And then things led to another.

Andre never really imagined that he’d be into spanking Cal, but it all begun on a day when they were home alone at Andre’s together, with Cal sitting beside Andre while he played Grand Theft Auto 2 on his PS2. Mel was curled up in Cal’s lap, but eventually got off. After that, Calvin continuously inched closer until he was leaning on Andre’s shoulder, clinging onto his arm. He then began to gently kiss his neck, up to the patch of skin behind his ear, and then to his cheek and jawline. After around a minute of this, with Cal kissing up on him and trying to get him to notice or pay attention to him, Andre got a little fed up, so he gently pushed Cal’s face down into his lap. He pulled Calvin’s pants down and found himself— in the heat of the moment— spanking his backside, ignoring Cal’s yelps and cries due to the repeated stinging pain. Afterward, Cal’s face was all wet with tears and his ass cheeks were bright red. At the sight, Andre felt a little guilty at first, but when he looked down toward Cal’s boxers, he noticed that he fucking came untouched from Andre spanking him alone, so he grabbed Cal by his “pretty boy blond locks” and forced him to look up at him, before leaning down and smothering a kiss onto Cal’s lips.

Calvin, on Andre’s lap, riding him while Andre holds one of his arms and licks along the scars and scabs he has trailing up his forearm. Bucking his hips up into Cal’s rear end, rubbing the head of his cock against his prostate, and encouraging him to keep cutting himself and to engrave his name into his arm, so that people can identify him as having Andre’s name on his arm for when Zero Day arrives. That’s all I need to say. :3

[sigh-tofm]

if you’re a gym rat… (some 18+)

… price

- gets back into it. has always had a certain level of physique he’s had to keep up being in the army, but he isn’t the young sergeant he once was anymore. still, he usually jogs twice a week and lifts some weights when time allows.

- that is, until you start pulling him along. early morning leg sessions with the sunrise and lighthearted planking contests during the footie halftime. equally enjoys getting back into the workout game, spending time with you and getting to look at your body in the tight gym wear. especially loves the the soft pudge at the bottom of your stomach and the way all of you jiggle when you do burpees.

- showers with you after the fact. long, steamy showers in each other’s arms. no sex in there (you’re both sore and the floor is slippery), but it’s not necessary. you’re content with the hot water massaging your spent muscles and the feeling of your solid lover around you.

… kyle

- hypes you up. already spends more time in the gym than you do, so he knows every exercise and machine in and out. eagerly teaches you everything and anything you ask him about. never lets anyone else spot you, always does it himself. especially likes spotting your squats.

- follows your pace, whether that means exhausting himself for you or slowing down for you. will join you on hill sprints and long distance runs, but is thankful he gets to hold the stop watch and blow the whistle when you do beep tests.

- thinks the act of exercising together can be as intimate as sex itself. getting to observe and explore each other bodies, each other’s strengths and weaknesses. half of it is a mental game and not too unlike kink, he thinks, as you groan and contort your face while pushing your feet into to ground, tensing your muscles into the belt to help with the deadlift. he nods approvingly when you straighten your back and breath out at the top of the lift. ‘one more for me, baby.’

… johnny

- eggs you on. like kyle, always helps you go harder, faster, longer, but does it by way of teasing. ‘that all, then? come oan, ye had more in ye last night.’ always toes the line between encouraging and infuriating, but to his credit he also tricks you into lifting the bar one more time instead of putting it down.

- jogs become races and walks become dogwalks. johnny is restless even if you’re both coming straight from an intense hiit-session. if you’ve decided on a leisurely pace, johnny will run ahead and circle back, take detours to look at interesting buildings and natural features, and constantly weave left and right on the path ahead or behind you, like a border collie.

- does not mind the sweat after a session. will eat you out in the parking lot until the car windows fog up. eventually pulls your panties back up and pat your belly over them, only to drive back home and do it all over again in the shower.

… ghost

- never leaves you. you’d think he keeps up a pretty strict routine with that pure strength he possesses, but he will drop anything if you suggest going hiking or practice a specific form. nothing is too boring, basic or easy if he’s doing it with you. that includes yoga, where you are actually leagues ahead of him in balance and flexibility. the only thing he has going for him is his sniper’s patience.

- effortlessly lifts the bar up when spotting your bench presses and you hit failure. leans down over the bar to kiss your nose while you catch your breath. ‘look at tha’. i’ll take ten kilos off, let’s end this on a high note.’ won’t hear your protests about how that’s not how it’s done, and make you do another rep with less weight, to keep the muscle memory of perfect form.

- ends each session with you practicing grip, which is something you both need to work on, you’ll hang face to face on the power rack and simultaneously try not to laugh while also gripping the bar for as long as you can. having an excuse to look you dead in the eyes is simon’s favourite part of each session.

[the-artist-grimm]

Crimson Angel AU - Narinder’s Betrayal

(Text updated as of Nov 8th, 2024)

Been editing and working on the AU and changing just what makes Narinder go from being the lamb’s friend to commanding them to sacrifice themself to him after all the Bishops are dead

Originally the idea was more just him not understanding his feelings towards them, then after overhearing part of a conversation about them planning on proposing to someone (not knowing its him) his heartbreak/confusion leads him to think they’re leaving him behind and thus sacrificing them is killing his feelings, but now tying it more into what’s becoming the main theme of the AU-how it’s important to communicate your feelings. (read more cause we got a lot of lore for this one!)

Narinder's Side

Narinder was imprisoned because he and his siblings didn’t talk to each other. They didn't ask how he felt about being death, and he in turn didn't tell them his frustrations regarding it/their treatment of him for being death. He was always the child Shamura never had to worry about-while his siblings needed attention left and right, he was the one Shamura could depend on being 'ok'.

Even if it meant hiding whenever he needed help. Even if it meant being the scapegoat. So long as Shamura still loved him, still looked at him and said he was their favorite for being easy, he was fine.

Yet as the other four’s domains all connected/dealt with life, they got closer as the years went on, whilst he in contrast remained the odd one out by being the sole one centered on death, with a side domain of sleep most usually forgot about. It felt isolating, even more than when he was a kid, but he tried to push it back.

But then the others started getting mad at him. Leshy, Heket, and Kallamar started blaming him for ‘taking’ a favorite friend, follower, or lover through death. He could handle it. They didn't know his domain was the Dead not Death. They didn't know he was the shepherd rather than executioner. It was fine. It was fine...

It wasn't fine.

He tried once. Just once to tell Shamura. To go to them for guidance, ask for their help. To ask if the others hated him-and yet...Shamura got angry at him, yelled at him for complaining, they had enough on their plate with the others and now him? Work it out himself, he can do that, right?

He returned to his domain swiftly after that. He returned, and slowly, figured out a plan.

Resurrection was his last-ditch effort to please them. If their anger was over him 'taking' people away, then he'd just give them back. Leshy had Order and Chaos, Heket Famine and Harvest-his secondary was sleep, but that's just death you can awake from-he could try being Life.

His followers became the experimental batch in hopes that he'd be able to perfect it for the real thing. He'd then resurrect his siblings' fallen and maybe, just maybe, that'd get them to love him again.

The Siblings' Betrayal

To the bishops, Narinder's distance was at first...normal.

He always kept to himself after all. He disliked the bustle of the mortal realm. Hated the noise of parties. Typically would hurry away the second their group meetings would end. They just thought he preferred his space since he'd never said otherwise-he'd always been like that. They never had to worry about him.

Him being Death was frustrating, but he never seemed to not mind the 'rightful' upset it caused. Yet here he was, suddenly gaining mass amounts of followers and them having no idea why or how. So Shamura decided to look into things, but as he would neither answer their letters to meet nor open his domain, they decide to use their future sight instead. (Though if they recalled...he had stopped by their office last, hadn't he? Shamura hardly remembered what he'd wanted-Heket had needed to borrow their army last minute while Kallamar had spent half the night wailing to them about a fight with his spouse. They hadn't meant to snap but...they just didn't need another thing to worry about-he'd forgive them surely)

Yet the vision they saw was blood on Narinder’s claws as he was dragged down by chains into the Afterlife, and the wailing of their other siblings in the distance.  

A fight-a betrayal?

Shamura couldn't understand. Narinder loved their family-loved them, he would never...they could not remember what he'd stopped by for last time, but oh he'd been...angry after, right? He had looked angry? They were too afraid to try and look deeper-to try and see the context. They just gathered the others and convinced them that they had to enchain him before he had a chance to destroy them. They summon him to their domain with one last vague letter stressing the importance of him visiting, and Narinder, with his now completed ritual notes in hand, eagerly went thinking this was his chance to present what he'd discovered.

He arrived and at first things seemed fine. He looked...happy. Oddly happy-more that Shamura had seen him in years. They couldn't falter. They decreed him traitor the moment the door to their chambers slammed shut, telling him that they knew of his plan, and that his ploy for power ended right there. His other siblings appeared and restrained him from the shadows, and during his panic, his claws met godly flesh in his struggle, with his notes scattering across the floor as sigils flared to life and chains surged to drag him down into the Afterlife. This look of pure sorrow on his face being the last Shamura saw-

This look that suddenly looked like the one he'd had when he'd fled their office that day...

...the...vision played out the exact same as what had just occurred. They had made a mistake. Narinder hadn't planned a betrayal, he wasn't going to hurt them. As their shattered skull pulses pieces of that day come back...he thought they'd hated him.

The others picked up his notes, and now all of them realized what they'd done.

The betrayal was from them, not him.

Yet to Narinder as he came to in the static, lifeless void of the Afterlife? His siblings knew of his plan somehow-they knew of his ressurections, and yet...it wasn't enought. He'd tried everything and it wasn't enought. He was now trapped in the Afterlife all alone, and right there decided that trying to please people didn't matter anymore. That no one would ever like him so why should he bother hoping for something he'll never have?  

1000 Years...

After a thousand years Narinder had gone through many stages of grief. Sorrow, anger, regret, though since the twins came to him-little three day old kits with their hearts carved out, all he could focus on was being freed so they'd no longer suffer. He was tired and just wanted it to be over. The boys had softened him, did somewhat ease that wound his siblings had left, but they were there not because they had choosen to, but because they were made to.

He was their master rather than their dad. He loved them so much, wished to call them his-but he had no right now, did he?

But then the Lamb appeared. He hadn't thought much of them at first, they were already devot to him prior to dying, that was a plus. They were eager, a tad lax, but overall appeared capable. What he didn't anticipate, however, was how kind they could be.

They would talk to him out of nowhere throughout the day, whenever in the gateway they would ask if he was in pain, bring him gifts, treated the boys with just as much kindness and more where so many vessels had ignored the two...they were teaching the boys to read, bringing them toys...even using the crown to show all three of them the most simple things from the world above.

So unused to it as he was, Narinder had questioned them. Did they desire a boon, was this a ploy? And yet the lamb had only laughed and said they simply wanted to see him and the boys happy-to ease their struggle within the Gate. He hesitated still but...over time...it felt nice. It was nice to be taken care of, to be seen. His walls dropped without even realizing, and even the most fragile of admissions still being hurt over his siblings' actions were met with nothing but understanding and a gentle touch to his hands.

This little lamb who saw someone as worthless as him and treated him like something precious...who he gradually began to see also hid their own pain, called them out because he wanted to make things even, they listened to him so he'd listen to them. They became his friend, and before Narinder knew it, he'd fallen so deeply in love he could've drowned in it.

Thus when ‘accompanying’ them via the crown to the remains of their childhood village on the anniversary of their family’s death, and upon hearing the lamb finally break down from their survivor's guilt and swear that they’ll free him regardless of the cost to themself, he couldn't stop himself from telling them no.

The final hidden chain was to be broken via the sacrifice of the devout heart which freed him-that’s what the prophecy said. The lamb doesn't know this, but he did. And while he wouldn't tell them that-he feared they might try and go through with the death, what he did tell them is that he either left the Afterlife with them by his side or not at all. He'd prolong his imprisonment for them.

He wanted them to live. He wanted them to live beside him

Everything seemed fine, but then the lamb started getting distant. They stopped 'calling' him at night before bed, started asking for more privacy. Long talks until they fell asleep stopped. And though during the day they'd still visit and talk and bring gifts...something was different. At night they would go silent.

His siblings had grown distant too, way back when. When 'Death' began to mean more than just that their playthings had broken. When they'd started realizing he wasn't worth it to be near.

But busy as he was trying to find a way to break the spell without killing the lamb, he choose to ignore it. They were still his friend, right?

But as Shamura’s death drew near one night when the twins were off exploring and he was all alone, Narinder just couldn't take it anymore and listened in. He swore to respect the lamb's privacy if signaled for it, but he couldn't wait anymore, he was alone, stressed, scared.

The crown's eye showed the wall of Ratau's hut, but he could hear what was happening inside, and it was busy. Chattering old men and clattering dice, the clinks of glass drinks, and an odd mechanical like sound? Someone sharpening a weapon perhaps, he wasn't sure. What he was sure of though, was that someone suddenly asked if he suspected anything, and he froze.

The Lamb, cheerful as ever, said no, and he heard that mechanical sound again so it must've been from something they were doing. Ratau asked if the lamb had told Forneus yet and they replied that they had and that she'd wished them the best-another former crown bearer who was in on whatever this is, and the Lamb said that if all went to plan then they needed Ratau to distract the twins should Forneus be unavailable the night after the three were freed, and that the rest of the group was to make sure no one followed the lamb as they took him for a walk off the grounds. 

Narinder didn't stay to hear the rest. He couldn't breathe suddenly, and the moment the connection is cut all he could remember is Shamura inviting him to their domain, and the feeling of his siblings forcing him into chains. All he could remember is how badly a heart can break, as his own shattered in his chest.

He...he'd been a fool again...

What he didn't get to hear however was the final sound of a loom shuttle flying through wool, then the sound of the Lamb tapping the last threads of a long, beautiful sash into place. Ratau and the others came over, and though they teased the Lamb relentlessly, all Anthea could think of is of their own parents’ sashes-beautifully hand-woven gifts given upon their engagement  to one another which within sheep culture represented the gifter’s devotion and oath of commitment to the receiver. That day their god comforted them and declared that they were to be by his side was the day Anthea realized they’d fallen in love, and regardless of the form of love he felt for them, Anthea had wanted to give him something to tell both him and themself that they finally wanted to live, and to live with him. 

Yet Narinder doesn't hear that. He doesn’t think to ask the lamb about what he heard because he was too afraid of the answer, he didn't even tell the twins what he heard, just lets them think he finally found a way to spare the lamb. It was only when Shamura was dead and the lamb arrive to, as Anthea put it, ‘Bring him and the twins home’ that he declared them traitor and commanded that they die, said he knows of their plan to usurp power, and refuses to let them win. 

He couldn't be chained again-the boys needed to get out. He couldn't be betrayed again-he feared being alone

The cycle repeated.

The twins died by trying to use their battles with the lamb to snap him out of it, Narinder fell regardless, and when he awoke on the dais to a furious, heartbroken lamb who was not only hurt by his ignoring of their privacy but also in assuming the worst of them that he realized his mistake.

It was easier to assume the worst, than to ask and risk seeing it confirmed. It was easier to hide how you felt, than to let it show. And yet because of that, reality was realized too late.

And alone again he was, he felt he deserved it

Boarders are by @lambouillet

[fanfic-obsessed]

Fake It

Let's take another AU walk. I do want you to know that, even though I can’t figure how to fit it into the idea proper, it is established Blyla and established CodyWan in the background.

When Order 66 went live, the clones, all of them, decided to fake the death of their Jedi. There could be many reasons for this but I personally like the thought that Clones had been low key prepared for their Jedi to be declared traitors since almost the beginning. 

In this one; the way the contract with the Kaminoans was written, the laws that created the GAR, and the laws that drafted Jedi interacted a little oddly. By technicality, since the Clones are not considered sentient, but instead are considered essential equipment for the GAR, any attempt to get them recognized as sentient, or in fact even treating the Clones like people, could be considered treasonous (the odd part is that this was not deliberate on the part of Palpatine, it was just one of those strange occurrences that he and the Jedi did not realize, but the clones did). 

And the chips do not give a reason for the Jedi being traitors, just that they were. So the clones, who had been preparing for this, took action. 

In addition, since the Jedi were empaths, the Clones and the Jedi had developed emotions as messages that could be used where other communication was not possible. Including a highly specific emotion that meant ‘We need to fake your death NOW’. 

So the Clones do ‘attack’ their Jedi (Obi Wan still got to take his swan dive), while giving the emotional equivalent of ‘PLAY DEAD YOU IDIOT’ being screamed at them. This emotion bleeding off all the clones could, to anyone not familiar with the emotion messages (which is everyone not Clone or Jedi) be mistaken for a darkening of the Force due 10,000 Jedi suddenly being betrayed and killed. 

As the march on the temple started, the 501st blasted this emotion too. Before Anakin can kill anyone this highly specific emotional message stops him just enough that he can come to his senses and realize exactly what he had been about to do (There is something about Anakin stopping dead in his tracks, eyes going wide as he realizes that he was about to commit first degree murder of children- I know that he had already committed child murder with the Tuskens, but there is a reason there is a difference between Second degree ‘I went somewhere an ended up murdering people’ and First Degree ‘I went there to murder people’).  

While the tech people of the Temple and the Clones hack into the security system (it may be the Temples system but it actually is calibrated to keep people from doing exactly what they are trying to do) to fake security footage of the Clones murdering the Jedi an getting in contact with Bail Organa to help get them all (including a smuggled Padme Amidala) off planet, Anakin put himself in a corner, telling them all that he needs to think about what he is about to do. 

Look I just really like the idea of an Anakin who has just realized he was down for First Degree Child Murder,but came to his senses before he actually committed the First Degree Child Murder and decides he needs to ground himself for a while. 

There was an intense debate between all the Jedi and their associated clones. The topic is if the Clones would be putting the Jedi on ships aimed for Wild Space until everything was sorted out, or if the Clones would be going with the Jedi into Wild Space while they figured out what to do next (The clones, particularly with the chips active, thought of themselves as Republic Property and did not want the Jedi to get in trouble for Grand Theft Army).  While most of the Jedi on the debate, there were a handful of battalions that had simply stunned their Jedi as part of the initial death faking and so won by default. Later there would be missions specifically to retrieve those lost battalions. There was a second, even more intense debate about what to do with the majority of the natborn officers, the ones that would not have sided with the clones and Jedi (As most of those Natborns were odious, speciest, and abusive to the clones, the clones would like a little murder. As a treat. Some of the Jedi- Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, and Ki Adi Mundi who were particularly close to their battalions- had a harder time arguing against the murder that they thought they would).

In the end it was decided that the Natborns would be given the ships and supplies to get them to the nearest friendly planet, if they were clever about it.  But that long distance communications  would be disabled. Not every ship had someone who was clever enough (as the majority of the assholes were higher level officers who were used to other people doing the actual work while they got the credit). Of the ones that had survivors, it would take at least two tenday to get to somewhere friendly from where they had been abandoned. 

While Palpatine knew something had gone wrong (his shiny new apprentice vanished without a whisper and his army was not where he left them) he thought that the Jedi being killed had gone to plan.  He finds out differently when the natborn officers start reporting in. 

I have no idea where it goes from here, though I imagine there is a significant amount of dechipping and an Empire to dismantle.

[mysteryanimator]

Castlevania Nocturne Mini Analysis: Mizrak’s catalyst

I remembered this shot after talking to Tackwithers about the abbot, his control over night creatures and in turn just people in general. Everything began to just CLICK into place about what made Mizrak go seek Olrox and what was his tipping point. This will be an informal short analysis, but I do hope you enjoy the read!

Now lets get this show on the road!

In episode 3, we getting shots were it cuts between Annette and the abbot- acting both as pillars for their causes. Both of their meeting effecting each other despite being miles apart. The Revolution meeting gets ambushed by night creatures. Those night creatures can be heard all the way towards the abbey.

By this point in time, we do not know that the Abbot controls these night creatures, but he DOES, we find this out later. He’s telling his army of the dead to go attack Richter, Annette and Maria (intentionally or not, she is in the crossfire). Of course, the night creature attack distrubs the church and people get scared rightfully so. To calm them down, the Abbott says the following:

“It’s alright, stay in your seats. We’re safe.”

It’s truth. The abbot controls the night creatures, and therefore their safety is completely certified.

“God will protect us.”

It focuses on Mizrak out of all people. He’s basked in blinding white light.

Mizrak is the only man in that room to know that it is the abbot controlling those night creatures, causing these people strife. He knows the abbot is at this point, IS ACTING LIKE A GOD. The abbot is basically choosing who gets to be safe, and who doesn’t. He decides who lives and who will die.

It is cruel. It is unfair.

It is the last shot we see of him in episode 03.

The next time we see Mizrak is in bed with Olrox. The only other person who knows the truth to the Abbot. Aka the sole reason he even seeks him out.

How did it lead to them having sex? We’re not exactly sure, but Mizrak went out to find HIM for help. It adds a whole lot of emotional complexity to Mizrak because we now understand how he got pushed and how the abbot was his catalyst to start doing things behind his back. What’s a good way to showcase this immediately?

Breaking your vow to the church.

(Also side tangent, as loud and as stubborn Mizrak is, passion is one of his main things. He’s passionate about his faith, about his values, protecting others and so on, that it literally overtakes him and goes on monologues, that is until Olrox speaks up. Sex is also an act of passion, take that with what you will. This is what this side tangent was leading to.)

Olrox knows the truth, which is why he kept prodding Mizrak for HIS opinions. This is why we get THIS RESPONSE. Mizrak has to start thinking for himself because there is evil everywhere.

Even in the church.

He can’t fully trust the abbot anymore. That man will continue to chip away at his trust until Mizrak has no choice but to face the truth himself and stand alongside Richter and co. It’s also why he is super reluctant on sharing things with Olrox. Emotions can’t get in the way of duty when people’s lives are at stake.

I would love to go into this further and deeper but I’ll stop here and leave the rest for you to decipher (it’s also 3am here). I thought it was important to at least put in my two cents while I think about Nocturne after season 2’s trailer dropped and especially learning that there’s going to be ✨more stuff✨about the Mizrak and Olrox.

[eldritcmor]

DRABBLE

You came back wrong.

It took a while for the team to get back into Las Almas Base. Even then it was a challenge for the Monsters and Hybrids of 141 and Mexican special forces. Gaping maws in the earth filled with drip stone like teeth would suddenly open up beneath their feet. The trees would violently sway in the thunder shrieking winds as fat Heavy rain clouds let loose on the torn soil. All the while they couldn’t get the image of your corpse leaning in the doorway of your cell turned tomb, smiling over Graves’ shoulder as the earth gave way to teeth and blood at your cry.

The vampire had barely had enough to time to turn before concrete slicked into mud. He went tumbling with his thralls into a gaping chasm lined with obsidian fangs. Pain wracked his body as Those under his control were dashed against glass stone. He tried to pull his thralls to him. To call to The piece of his essence in each and every single one. No one came. He growled and tried again. No one. He looked up to the top of the pit only to see your dead eye’s mere inches from his, head cocked to the side as if listening.

A slow creeping smile stretched your pale blue lips, revealing rows of obsidian teeth. Graves barely had the energy to scramble back. He ignored the sting of glass piercing his palms as He pushed himself, further and further from whatever the fuck you were. A wail cried high in the pit and Graves flinched as Your head snapped to the noise. He would never forget the grinding crunch of bone if he made it out of this. Between one blink and the next, you were gone. Nothing but the clicking of volcanic glass in your wake.

Graves gathered himself, breathing harshly. The reports had said you were The 141’s weak link. A fragile human among powerful monsters. He had thought of Turning you into one of his Thralls. Making You a shadow. But, then. Well orders were orders, and Graves was nothing if not decently loyal to the people writing his check.

Shepherd wanted to rile The 141 up. Make them show their true colors. You were just the poor little human, that had wormed your way into the team’s heart.

He had drawn it out, after The transfer of the base went to shit with Ghost, Alejandro, and Soap escaping. Had taken his time with draining your life, drop by drop over the course of several days. Till your dinky little Cell became your tomb. After that it was a waiting game, and He got so tired of waiting. He decided to send a message to entice the 141. You weren’t supposed to come back.

Gaz stared at the massive black maw in the middle of Las Almas base. The place was deadly quiet. Not even the rain seemed to make a sound in the presence of the Obsidian Mouth. This was your doing?

He landed on a crumbled building at just the edge of the pit. He peered down trying to make sense of where shadows ended and black volcanic rock began, when he saw it. Bodies. Lots of Bodies. Twisted, Broken Bodies Lined the lowest points of the pit. Spiked through with Glittering shards of obsidian.

The harpy leaned further, flexing his wings and burying his talons in the concrete of the building to keep himself stable. A little red patch caught his eyes. Graves private little army. Shadows, then. He squinted. Something was off about the bodies though. They were pale. Not lack of sunlight pale. Blood loss pale. He finally let go of his perch and smoothly dropped into a swoop, right into the pit. The temperature hit him first. One would expect a deep maw of rock and earth to be cool maybe even cold. No, it was warm like a furnace, bordering on Hot.

Gaz’s mouth tightened in concentration as he landed next to one of the Shadow bodies. The obsidian had torn the poor thing apart but that didn’t explain the complete blood loss. The harpy kicked at the body. Something was off and Gaz was lost.

“Captain.”

The Dragon’s voice crackled through the radio clipped to his flight harness.

“Yes, Gaz?”

“Do you know any creatures that would drain a thrall dry?”

The captain humphed. “No.”

“Well something did. Every single body in this pit is completely drained.”

“Could be a ritual. We haven’t ruled out possession.”

Gaz flipped the body over. There! A thin channel formed into the glass, almost like someone was melting the glass as they dragged their finger through it.

“No we haven’t. I’ll keep poking around.”

“Be careful, Garrick.”

“Always am, sir.”

The harpy followed the trail. Meeting more and more thin little channels of dried blood. He barely noticed as the ground sloped. Pooling the channels into rivers til finally a deep pool formed at the very bottom of the pit.

Gaz stood at the edge of a massive dip, a single pillar of obsidian erected in the center. The walls of the pit were eating the sky, as Gaz peered up at the sun. The sun? Gaz had flown in under storm and wind. Is this what you saw before you left?

Gaz threw himself into the air. He knew you were long gone. The obsidian maw proved it. The maw’s spewed heat when formed. This one had long cooled. None of the bodies were burned.

taglist: @skylordgrey @bluegiragi @batw3nch @stick-the-dumbass @lilpothoscuttings @im-making-an-effort @stupidwingboy @apocalypticseagull @resident-cryptid @warenai @sleepyendymion @sellenedragon @queenofwolves210 @ummmmmbeans @makayla-666 @gogh-with-the-flow @diejager

[princessamericachavez]

Even before the episode, while rewatching old seasons, I was just struck by how big an impact Buck’s had on Eddie’s life. 

Like, please, picture this: 

You are Eddie Diaz, ok? An army vet who quite literally just went through an extremely traumatic experience, immediately got left by your wife and in a desperate move to find happiness for you and your son you move across the country to start a new life. 

You are the new guy at work and this man about your age really has it out for you. That’s fine by you. You’ve put up with enough bullshit in the army, you are just here to do your work, it’s harder than that to get under your skin. Plus, this guy seems okay, aside from all the dick measuring, and you’re sure he’ll tire himself out if you just don’t play along. Then, oh surprise, after a single shift you give the guy one compliment and he folds completely, before you know it he’s decided you two are friends. Fine, good. You miss the army’s camaraderie. This will probably be just like that. 

Few weeks in, Christopher comes up. You hesitate because you don’t like talking about your kid with strangers, but you are worried about him being out there alone during the earthquake and there’s really no way to avoid the subject forever. You’re already dreading the pity looks from people who don’t understand this kid is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Instead, you get a wide smile, “he’s super adorable, I love kids”. In retrospect, you should’ve expected it. What you don’t expect is the way Buck spends the entirety of the shift reassuring you that Chris is alright, even when you’re pretty sure you’ve done nothing to betray your worry (you know better than to panic, it does nothing to help), but Buck seems to notice anyway and keeps sprouting curiosities to reassure you. He even drives you across the torn up town at a reckless speed to make sure you can reach your son as soon as possible. 

Few weeks later, abuela has an accident. Buck drives you to the hospital, even though you could’ve taken a cab to the firehouse to pick up your truck, and goes all the way in with you. He’s a good friend like that. Turns out, he’s a very good friend, because he catches you by surprise calling ahead to let the Cap know you need help with Chris and arranges a whole day of him hanging out with the 118. You didn’t ask for it, and he doesn’t expect so much as a ‘thank you’. 

Next night, he makes a big deal of introducing you to a woman and you are already dreading, once again, the reveal moment when you have to explain that thank you very much but you are still married and really your only priority right now is your son and- wait, that woman is the perfect caretaker that might or might not be the solution you’ve been desperately searching for to get your and your son’s life together.

This guy you just met a few weeks ago has given you friendship, reassurance, company, thoughtful help without you ever asking (you’ve never been good at asking for it) and he’s just sitting there smiling proudly while he helps you possibly assure your kids future.

All of this... it happens in the first FOUR episodes of s2 after Eddie is introduced. No wonder he’s in love ride or die for Buck. Who wouldn’t be?

In a year, they are inseparable. In two years, Eddie makes him Christopher’s legal guardian in case he dies. In three, Buck saves his life. In four they are basically a family and the person Christopher goes to in a panic. Five years in, Buck is in a coma and Eddie Diaz cannot even look at him, cannot picture a world where he’s dead, cannot envision his life without him.