#cackling like a mad bastard

[yeenybeanies]

-Sudden image of winged!Soap roosting on giant!Ghost’s head pops in mind.- . . . -Laughs hysterically.- Why do I get the feeling that giant!Ghost would get annoyed and try to shoo him away, but at the same time would allow it because birds have hollow bones and he doesn’t want to hurt (any variation of) Soap. I don’t know though, what do you think?? (Your work and art is extraordinary!! Keep it up, don’t stress, and take your time.) ‘xD

oooOOOOO WINGED AU + GIANT AU!! anon your brain is huge

this is fun too because winged!soap Looks a lot bigger than he actually is, with a wingspan that is almost twice giant!ghost’s height. he could sit on ghost’s shoulder & touch the ground with his wingtips.

BUT MOREOVER to the scenario you have given me: i feel like giant!ghost would probably be Less careful with winged!soap! since soap can fly, there’s no real danger to dropping him or shoving him off or throwing him. & yes, soap would absolutely perch on ghost at any given opportunity. don’t think ghost would mind it much, either. might get a little annoyed at first, bark at soap to get the fuck off, push him off, etc.; but when soap keeps coming back, ghost just accepts his fate.

but if anyone else tries to perch on him, he’ll get annoyed. & soap will get annoyed too. sorry, this big, skull-wearing bastard is his perch & his alone.

[noharaaa]

Pillow Talk, Litteraly!

(𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙨 𝙭 !fem! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

When your annoying ex boyfriend sneaks into your bunk during curfew, after a whole day of avoiding him, things are bound to get messy. What could possibly go wrong? (Hint: everything)

𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 1 >>>> 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 2

Author’s Note: 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘱! 𝘛��𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘴’ 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘪��𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 “bold purple letters”

Enjoy Reading!

@loveesiren╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

The facility was too damn cold!

You curled onto your side, yanking the thin blanket up to your nose.

It barely helped.

The bunks here weren’t so comfortable. thin mattress, stiff pillow, the tiny scent of bleach.

But after the hell of your first day in this place, you should’ve been exhausted enough to pass out immediately.

But you weren't tired.

Your mind kept running into thoughts you didn’t want to think about.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your bed dipped.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

A low obnoxious whisper tickled your ear.

“Wassup, my baby princess?”

Oh, for God’s sake!

You clenched your jaw, eyes squeezing shut.

Maybe if you ignored him, he might disappear.

But the weight only shifted closer beside you.

The audacity!

You felt his body heat press into your back as he shamelessly slid under your blanket. The faint scent of cologne and something kind of… fruity filled your nose.

His vape?

Your stomach twisted. Half from irritation, half from something way more annoying.

You turned your head just enough to hiss, “Get off my bed, Su-bong.”

He did the exact opposite and made himself comfortable instead.

“Wahh, so cold~” he whined dramatically, pulling at the edge of your blanket. “Let me in!”

He was whispering way too loud!

“I’d rather freeze to death.”

Su-bong grinned. Even in the dim lighting, you could see his ridiculous purple hair and that smug look you wanted to slap off his face. “Then we die together, Romeo and Juliet style.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, except I’d be the one poisoning your drink.”

“Oooh, kinky.”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Go away. I swear, if the guards see you—”

“Pfft. Who cares? They respect me.”

“No one respects you.”

“You’re just mad ‘cause you still want me.”

Oh. This bastard.

“In your dreams, asshole.” You smacked his arm. He cackled, stifling the sound into the pillow.

The worst part? You caught yourself grinning.

You were still not over this man.

A beat of silence.

Then his voice dropped, quieter now. “You okay?”

You blinked.

Su-bong didn’t do serious. Not often. But there was something about the way he said it. Like he actually wanted to know.

You looked at the bunk above you.

“It’s cold,” you muttered.

There was another silent pause.

Until he replied with, “Damn. That’s crazy.”

You elbowed him. Hard.

He almost flinched, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Then he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You went stiff.

“W-what are you–?”

“Shhh.” He nuzzled into your hair, his body warm against yours. “Baby cold. I am heater. Shhh.”

Your face went hot…

But you didn’t move or shove him off.

Not because you wanted him there. Obviously.

It was because of the guards.

They were unpredictable as hell and the last thing you needed was some pink robotic-looking psycho deciding that an argument at curfew was a punishable offense.

That was the only reason you let Su-bong stay.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that there was no space on this tiny ass bed!

And of course, you're annoying, oversized ex boyfriend was hogging most of it.

Your leg was literally slipping off the edge. “Can you move?”

“Ah, baby. I wish… but my body? Too powerful.”

“Uhm…What?”

He patted his chest dramatically. “Too much muscle. No room.”

“Of course there's no room. ‘Cause you’re a big back.”

“I’m a… what?”

“Dude! You’re the one crushing me!”

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue, wiggling into the mattress even more. “You should be grateful. You have the great honor of sharing a bed with…. South Korea’s sexiest man alive~”

“Oh my God. Please shut up.”

He didn’t shut up. He just laughed and… oh no. No.

His breath tickled your ear.

You flinched, heat prickling down your spine.

Su-bong noticed.

And because he was the worst person alive, he did it again.

This time, you jerked away slightly “Stop rubbing on me!”

“Baby… that sounds so dirty.”

You kicked him.

“OW! Yah!” He whisper-shouted. “That hurt! You abuser! You need– how you say…” His voice switched back to English, “anger issue~”

Your fists were now balled up. “Su-bong, I swear—”

“Shh, shh.” He patted your head gently. “S’okay. Thanos still luv you.”

“I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

“Kinky~”

You were this close to elbowing him again, but then…

He nuzzled into the back of her head, his nose grazing your neck.

You froze.

You felt the warmth of his breath again. The way his stupid, soft hair brushed against your skin. The lazy way he—

Nope. Nope.

You turned your body around, face-to-face with him now.

He blinked at you.

You glared at him.

It was quiet again.

Then… his mouth curled into that annoying, stupid smirk.

You immediately regretted turning.

You’re eyes narrowed even more.

He didn’t stop staring.

It was annoying. And weird. And making you way too aware of how close you both were.

“…What?”

The words barely left your lips before his smug grin got bigger.

“Ahhh,” he breathed, dramatic as ever. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You like looking at me.”

You stared. Then snorted. “You look like a failed SoundCloud rapper.”

He gasped with a fake pain written all over his face. “How can you say this after all our beautiful memories?”

You rolled her eyes. “Memories?. Like on the day you cheated on me, right?”

His smirk faded.

You saw it.

The way his eyes darted away for half a second before snapping back to you.

“Still bringing up old news?”

The way he said those words were unsurprisingly apathetic and mocking. It wasn’t hard to notice how he was trying not to grin.

Your jaw tightened. “Oh, my bad. I forgot it doesn’t count when it was ‘just a kiss,’ right?”

His face hardened.

You kept going. Why stop now?

“Tell me, Su-bong. was it still ‘just a kiss’ when you let her sit on your lap?”

Silence.

Then he clicked his tongue.

“So dramatic,” he muttered, flopping onto his back. His arm folded behind his head, like this wasn’t a big deal. “You always overthink things.”

Ah, yes. There it was.

That calculated indifference. The bull crap he used to pull when he knew he was in the wrong but too stubborn to admit it.

Your brows furrowed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No, you are.” His voice sharpened. “Always nagging. Always twisting things into some big betrayal. Seriously, bro! do you ever get tired of being like this?”

‘Bro?’ Who does this man think he is?

Your nails dug into your palms. “Being like what?”

“A pain in the ass.”

A rush of heat shot through your chest.

He did NOT just gaslight you!

Your body tensed. The anger in you bubbled so fast you nearly saw red.

Before you could snap, a groggy voice groaned from a few bunks away.

“Can you two shut the hell up?”

Shit.

You exhaled sharply, forcing your muscles to relax.

This wasn’t the time. The last thing you needed was to cause a scene.

“Go back to your bunk.”

Su-bong chuckled under his breath. “Wow, Look at you. Finally learning to control that temper.”

You almost went stiff again. He was obviously trying to start shit on purpose.

“Wouldn’t want the guards dragging you away, would you?”

“Screw you, Su-bong.”

“Haha. You wish, baby.”

Your eye twitched.

He still didn’t leave.

He just kept staring until your patience snapped

.

So you did what any mature, rational person would do. You whispered the meanest insult you could think of.

“Choding.” (Elementary school brat.)

Su-bong snorted. “Ohhh, scary~”

“Dumbass.”

“Stupid.”

“Egomaniac.”

“Goblin.”

“Failed rapper.”

Oops!

His grin faded almost instantly. “Yah. Watch your mouth.”

“Cry about it.”

“You first, loser.”

“Truth hurts.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay… crypto hater.”

“That’s not even an insult.”

“Yes, it is. ‘Cause you didn’t believe in me.”

“I didn’t believe in your dumb crypto.”

He grinned again. “Same thing.”

That grin was too contagious.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

No, you were NOT about to laugh.

You heard a stiff breath leave his nose like he was trying to hold something in.

Then a quiet snicker slipped out.

That was it.

You almost lost it before you buried your face into your pillow, laughter bubbling out uncontrollably.

It only lasted a few seconds before you caught herself.

Dammit!

You cleared your throat, forcing your lips back to normal.

You were supposed to be upset!

“Yah,” he whispered between chuckles, “you’re so childish, you know that?.”

“Whatever.”

He nudged your side, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’s cute. The way you’re playing hard to get.”

“Am not!”

“Mmm.”

You knew he didn’t believe you.

He inched closer. Too close.

His voice was lower now, the teasing edge still there, but softer.

“You sure about that?”

You didn’t move. “Positive.”

Su-bong let out a quiet, amused breath.

“Liar.”

And with that, he closed the gap.

Just a brush of lips. Soft. Quick.

You blinked.

He did it again. You didn’t pull away.

And he knew he’d win.

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵!

𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 1 >>>> 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 2

[grimm-writings]

chomp

…ft! boothill x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, silly, biting, arguing (petty and not serious), reader is significantly shorter than boothill

…wc! 612

…notes! hiiii guess who’s alliiiiiveee. um advice for anyone out there do NOT become a teacher it will take up all your energy haha!! here’s something to prove i am in fact still living!!

“Youuuuu little… SHIT!”

Boothill turns on his heel to face you, expression blank.  He looks left, then right, then points a finger at himself, as if there were any other little shits of note.

Meanwhile, you stand in front of him, practically steaming with rage.  If you were a kettle, you’d be whistling at a pitch high enough only dogs could hear.

“...I get the feelin’,” Boothill starts, placing his hands on his hips and preparing for a lecture, “someone is mad at me.”

“Oh!  How intelligent!  Should we call the Genius Society?  Nous THEMself?”  You bat your eyelashes, but the smile you plaster on your face makes you look more like a monkey ready to pounce.

Boothill rolls his eyes, his hands held up in surrender.  “Alright, alright!  I get it.  I forked up—”

“Oh, you forked up, you say?”  You interrupt.  “Yes, that’s what I call pulling me out in the middle of a road when there was oncoming traffic then suddenly letting go of my hand!  Yes, what a fork up!”

Boothill’s eye twitches at your outright mockery of his censorship.  “I’m sorry, ‘kay?  I know it was a jerk move, but it’s not like I shot ya!”

You can only bite your lip to suppress your scream, instead letting out a loud grunt in frustration.  As you pace, you reach up your two hands and approach Boothill briefly, they shake in the air as if pantomiming the great strangle you’re going to give him later.  You drop your arms and began to pace once more, continuing your berating.

Boothill doesn’t do anything except stand there and take it.  By now, he’s used to your scoldings.  In one ear, out the other.  In fact, if he just ignores what you’re saying, he could even say you look just adorable right now.  Yeah, look at you, trying to look all intimidating when you can barely reach his neck.

He could just eat you up.

“And another thing!”  You exclaim, continuing your lecture with Boothill none the wiser.  You stop in front of the cowboy once more, thinking of another thing to criticise with your finger held up in the air, just below his chin.  Boothill goes slightly cross-eyed following it.

“You are just—”

Chomp.

You stop short of what you’re doing, jaw slack as you look up at Boothill.  He has leaned down, and his shark-like teeth are now enclosed around your finger.

And he’s smirking up at you.  Bastard.

You begin wiggling your arm around like a crazy person as soon as you process the slight pain of the bite, like Boothill was a rabid dog you were trying to shake off.  “What the Hell?!  I’m trying to have a serious talk with you!”

Boothill replies, but his teeth are still latched onto your finger, so it comes out gibberish.  In fact, you think his grip only got tighter.

People are definitely staring now, but what’s more grating to your senses is how much fun Boothill seems to be having.  This isn’t fun– this is you trying to reprimand him!  Why does he have to be so…?!

Once you finally get him off you, he cackles as you cradle your poor, poor finger.  Those teeth marks will be there the entire day…  People are going to ask so many questions…!

“Sorry, darlin’,” he says, ruffling your hair as you mope.  “I tried to hold back, but I just couldn't help myself.”

You look up at him weepily and he smirks back.  He tilts his head in a way that makes him even more handsome from your angle as he gazes down at you.

Frustratingly charming.  That’s what he is.

[lamemaster]

Yandere the Silmarillion Elves

Request: Hello! May I request yandere headcanons for Maeglin and Maglor (separately), perhaps with a human reader? Also, I really love your blog you write incredible stories :))

Pairings: Maeglin x human reader & Maglor x human reader

Genre: Dark themes. Maeglin's is gorey >"<

AN: Thank you for requesting this! I enjoy writing dark themes and this definitely was my cup of tea. I hope you like it.

Next up- Finrod x Valyrian! Reader Fall trope event list

Maeglin- (yandere reader)

A mangled mess of limbs was how you found him, withering beneath the ruins of the fallen city.

Somehow, against all odds, he lived. An amalgamation of mass bound to a body. Condemned to survive in a body tortured by death’s refusal to grant him peace.

He had endured this state for nearly a year, trapped between life and death, as if the world itself were determined to deny him release.

And then, there was you. As a wandering bandit, the sight of Gondolin’s ruins had seemed a fortune, a treasure mine promising riches to last a lifetime.

Yet amid the remnants of shattered stone and splintered wooden furniture, there he lay—the last survivor of the city’s fall. The one who instigated it all.

The incestuous bastard who, miraculously, had survived it. Every elven bards’ latest villain, the one sung of in recent ballads with curses on their lips.

You lifted the broken elf, cradling his twisted form—if his position could even be called that. His eyes, devoid of lids, remained fixed on you, unblinking, raw from months of crying out for help that never came. Gods, even now, he was beautiful.

Thus began your labor. Five days passed as you set bones that had grown crooked with time, wrapped him in scraps of cloth salvaged from the ruins, and nursed him with poppy milk poured into his helpless lips. With his face streaked by dried tears, he grew drowsy, finally slipping into fevered dreams.

As he lay shivering in your arms, lost in visions of a life that had abandoned him, you brushed your hand over his unmarred skin, tracing the contours of his trembling eyelids.

You murmured softly, your voice a mix of promise and threat “I would never let anyone hurt you. They’d have to get through me first... and believe me, they wouldn’t make it.” As if your reassurance could pull him back from his dreams of the past life without you.

Here, in the grave of his past, he was yours. No one would come for the one even death had forsaken. He was yours alone, bound by fate’s cruelty and your own claim upon him.

Cupping his damp cheek, you grinned, a glint of madness in your eyes. “My darling incestuous bastard,” you whispered, a low cackle slipping from your lips.

Maglor- (yandere character)

Maglor would follow you into death. Not even Eru Himself could hope to take you from him. No one would ever take what was his, not again.

The wedding was swift. In fact, the secondborn Fëanorian had insisted upon it within weeks of meeting you, brushing aside your hesitations with fervent kisses.

Your concerns about the doom of mortality were hushed in whispers and promises; if death was a gift granted to Men, then Maglor would seize it back from its giver. His breaths would ebb and flow with yours. Nothing could alter that.

It was all he could do now. Time had sharpened his resolve, even blunted the burns of the Silmaril, leaving behind only faint scars.

He had glamoured away his past, letting his skin heal so he could become the perfect lover for you, forsaking his true name for a new one.

Peldis, he called himself. A mountain elf from distant valleys. By sheer luck, you hadn’t noticed the faint scent of brine lingering about him, nor the care he took in combing his tangled hair until it shone.

You hadn’t glimpsed the quiet ferocity with which he shed his former self to stand before you, a stranger made whole in the reflection of your wants.

It had been one fateful night, when the ache of the Silmaril consumed him, that he’d first seen you.

Or rather, he’d caught sight of you wading in moonlit waters, bare as the light itself, utterly unguarded. He hadn’t looked away. The years had been long, and the Fëanorian had been starved.

The vision of silvery moonlight tracing your body had entranced him, struck him with a longing sharper than any oath. 

You were it, he thought. The Silmaril reborn. Perhaps even better than any of his father’s works. You were more than a cursed jewel.

Like a viper shedding its skin, Maglor transformed himself into Peldis. A convenient presence in your village, a simple trader of carved wooden combs.

It had not taken him long to notice the way your own hair flowed down your back like silk, and he knew, watching you, that you would come to him.

From offering a delicate comb for your hair to placing the ring upon your finger, Maglor had orchestrated each moment, each touch.

The songs of your fairytale romance made it easy to draw you into his arms, into the warmth of your bed, far from prying eyes and whispers.

And there, as he held you close, his touch guiding you deeper into his embrace, he tugged your soul into a quiet submission, bending your will and your mind to his desire.

Maglor knew what was best for you. And in this life, that place was here, wrapped in his arms, your heart tethered to his.

Even in the harmony of the Timeless Halls, yours would be the song he would compose. His muse. His beloved. You were his, now and forever.

[cat3ch1sm]

🪴~ hi, everyone! i hope you’ve all had a lovely day or night. today i give you some black butler headcanons because i haven’t written for it in a little while. enjoy, ily <33

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ fem!reader, street harassment, catcalling, language

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝- 𝐟𝐭. 𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐢, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐚, 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥

a/n~ i am in no way romanticizing sexual harassment. most of the things i write here in these types of headcanons have happened/been said to me, so i just wanted to make that clear :) thank you <33 also, sorry these are so short, i am tired but i needed to post 😭

sebastian

you two are simply walking down the street, minding your own business as usual- maybe returning from an errand or something. because you’re outside and the weather isnt looking good, you propose that you take a shortcut through a different area. it’s a rougher part of town, but neither of you are fond of the idea of getting caught in the rain, so you take the risk.

you’re probably discussing something fairly mundane when a group of two or three guys spots you from the side of the road. they look dirty and are not at all easy on the eyes. you hear jeering and whistling from the side of the road, along with a few unsolicited comments about how sexy you apparently are. you give them a dirty look but are mostly inclined to ignore them, but Sebastian has other plans.

the butler first moves you to the opposite side of him protectively before marching straight up to the men jeering at you. they stop initially, a little confused, but when they decide Sebastian isn’t too much of a threat, they resume their antics.

“hey, what’re ya doing? you’re blocking our view, bastard.”

“what, are you her boyfriend of something? are ya mad? gonna tell us to stop? not our fault your girl’s a fine piece of ass.”

sebastian literally just stands there and waits for them to finish cackling like middle school boys. then, once they stop, a bit confused as to why Sebastian is still standing there, the butler promptly decks all three of them, knocking them all to the rough ground with three very painful-sounding thuds.

“it’s terribly impolite to verbally assault an innocent woman on the street like that, you know. i would appreciate it greatly if you’d mind your manners next time, yes?”

Sebastian simply leaves the men on the ground to moan and groan at their injuries before rejoining you, who is rendered speechless, in the road.

“this wasn’t a very good shortcut, now was it, my dear? i recommend you make your decisions more wisely next time, rain or not.”

agni

you two are probably just hanging out, on a date or something. you’re walking in the middle of the city, where there are lots of people shopping, selling, just walking, other various things. because of the crowd, you and agni get off the main street and walk behind all the shops and buildings instead for a little more privacy.

while walking behind the buildings, you accidentally stumble and drop your bag. agni politely asks if he can get that for you, but you smile and insist on getting it yourself. you bent over to get your bag and stood back up, which should have been the end of it, but unfortunately you happen to catch the eye of two guys loitering beside one of the buildings you two are in front of.

“i liked it better when you were bent over, sweetheart!”

abruptly, you whirl to face the source of the voice, shocked, your eyes wide. clenching your teeth, you clutch your bag closer and shake your head, starting to walk away in an attempt not to escalate the situation, but agni grabs your hand just before you’re out of his reach. he doesn’t want to bring you any closer to the two men, but agni wants to keep you by his side, so he grasps you around the waist and walks over to them. when he approaches them, his expression is dark, and you can tell how he’s straining to maintain his non-violent ways.

honestly, agni doesn’t really have to say anything to let the guys know that he means business. his threatening aura is overpowering- the cowards are already running for the hills.

“it is a shame that it is so acceptable for these men to treat you like that in England. however- it is clear that they are mere cowards, given that they ran as soon as i approached them. are you doing alright?”

“as long as you are with me, you will never be in harm’s way.”

soma

“hey, baby, your boyfriend don’t look like much- why don’t you come on home with me and i’ll show you a real good time.”

the remark catches you completely off guard. you and soma were on your way back from a cute first date at a quaint coffee shop, which poor soma, trying desperately not to mess up, had planned way too far ahead for just an hour-long date. luckily for him, it had gone well, and you and soma were hitting it off on the walk back to the manor. however, the cheerful little bubble you two were in after officially becoming a couple poles rather abruptly after hearing that comment.

you opted to ignore the offender, and soma simply shot him a dirty look before continuing on your way, protectively wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer to him. but the man doesn’t leave you alone.

“hey, babe, why don’t you wanna talk to me? i promise i can be better than that guy you’re with.”

you outright groaned this time, sick of the man hounding you, and soma instantly sensed your annoyance. although he definitely wasn’t fond of the idea of confronting the burly man- who indeed was bigger than soma- he didn’t want to look like a chicken in front of you, and he genuinely didn’t like seeing you upset and vulnerable. so, soma promptly storms up to the man and tries his best to chew him out without wavering.

“hey! you know that it is very rude to catcall a woman like that! you do not even care that she is with a gentleman? you, sir, are a very crass and immature man!”

it really looks better typed out… in reality, soma’s voice is shaky and cracks a lot, and he’s visibly very nervous. like i mentioned, this guy who catcalled you is certainly intimidating. luckily, he isn’t amused by soma and simply waves him off and goes on his way.

grell

“why didn’t he say that to me? what’s wrong with my ass?”

carefully explain to grell that catcalling is not a compliment because she will not know that. even after you explain, she still might take offense☠️☠️

[linddzz]

Non jayvik ask for once but I saw your tags about the Iliad and you're so right truly a sitcom. I started reading the emily wilson translation and I texted my friend within like two pages going "man this is a bunch of drag queens drunk at brunch trying to rip each other's wigs off they're being so petty and catty, meanwhile Achilles is calling his mom in the bathroom to complain that he hates everyone here and to please call Zeus to smite Agamemnon pls thank you mom" and personally I think it's hilarious Athena straight up grabs Achilles hair to hold him back and get him to chill and I legit cackled out loud no one's doing it like homer lol

Guys please read the Iliad it's so fucking funny. The gods are literally just having their equivalent of light hearted family sitcom squabbles and the body count is innumerable. They are having slap fights and civilizations crumble. Hera goes to seduce Zeus to distract him and he starts going "Dammmn Hera you look so good you're even hotter than- *proceeds to list ten other women he's banged*" Hermes watches Hera literally send Artemis crying to Zeus, makes eye contact with Artemis' mom, the Titan goddess Leto, and basically goes: "yeah I'm not gonna try it with you. You can just tell everyone you beat my ass. Zeus has a type of woman he likes, and it's a type I don't wanna get hit by." and he's so real for that Ares is literally just doing his job. Being a war god. On a battlefield. That everyone else is also fighting on. And every time another Olympian flies past him they're going "BOOO YOU SUCK ARES!!!" i felt so bad for him the entire time I was reading it!!! He's supposed to be there! it's a war!! Even Zeus is like "Ares you violent brutish war god get out of my sight before I kick your ass. War gods are the worst. Not you Athena. You're the bestest most wonderful daughter ever I could never stay mad at you." The only time Hades actually shows up instead of just being mentioned, it's when he's basically hitting his ceiling with a broom because his brothers are causing such a ruckus. The Iliad will have pages of heart wrenching tragedy as this war tears apart noble families and loved ones on all sides. It's senseless it's a waste and the story wants you to really feel the tragedy on all fronts. Then a few Olympians zoom by in the background flipping the bird at each other Also I haven't read Emily Wilson's Iliad but oohhmygod I gotta. Her Odyssey translation is the best. Everyone. if you love a bastard man going around being a delightful scamp please read the Odyssey. Everyone is all "Odysseus and Penelope are so in love" but they dont even mention that they're couple goals because they're both such sneaking underhanded bastards that when Odysseus returns he doesn't even reveal himself for a while because BOTH OF THEM are busy lying to each other and testing each other with little manipulative jabs and you really get the feeling that they're an OG version of "they need to be a couple for containment purposes"

[ryuuza-art]

Soulstober Stories part 4:

Sensing the end was drawing near, I wanted to draw out the experience as much as I could & went exploring.

10. Celestial Emissary

I only discovered the Upper Cathedral Ward late in the game, but I was still forced into stealth thanks to it being littered with powerful foes. So imagine my dismay while fighting my way through the celestial mobs (with whom I'd already had a few unfortunate encounters) to see one of them blow up to several times its original size! Fortunately, "slow and deliberate" won this fight after a couple attempts, but that just left me wondering if there wasn't more.

11. Ebrietas

And more there was!

A truly formidable opponent. Her attacks are devastating, whether you go in close or stay at range and with her obvious Lovecraftian roots, the vast altar room arena and ethereal soundtrack, it felt like fighting a god.

12. Amygdala

I basically stumbled upon her, shortly after being abducted yet again and blundering around, trying to avoid the wrath of the Wandering Madnesses, being crushed by boulders, or getting repeatedly poisoned. One I had to come back to a fair few times throughout my first playthrough, before I was truly equipped to tackle her with any success. A thoroughly intimidating foe, not just for her size, but because her weak spots were mostly out of reach, so I had to chip away at her while trying my best not to get flattened or eviscerated. "Poor bastard" indeed. I remember letting out a cheer when I finally took her down!

13. Martyr Logarius

I really enjoyed Cainhurst, in all its bloodsoaked glory and found the lore fascinating. Logarius, however, felt like a punishment. Narrow corridors.and wide ranging spells never mix, especially when you can still fall to your death if you make one wrong step. His tracer skulls and raining swords are forever etched into my memory. I took absolute pleasure in jeering upon his defeat.

14. Micolash, Host of the Nightmare

"Ahh, Kos, or some say Kosm..."

Now there was nothing left but to finish what I started.

From the opening cutscene, I was immediately enamoured with Micolash - if you know me at all, he is*exactly* my kind of unhinged! Chasing him down while also dealing with his skeleton marionettes, was as simple as herding cats, but I enjoyed hearing his musings throughout the battle, his wild cackling as you knock seven bells out of him, set to eerie, dizzying strings. He's still one of my favourite bosses to this day!

[icycoldninja]

FLUFFCEMBER DAY#27: (Nikolai x Reader)

I'm sorry

You didn't tend to think of yourself as a petty, whiny person who gave others a hard time when you were mad, yet here you were, sitting upright in your bed at around 3 in the morning, still fuming at what Nikolai did earlier. Even after screaming at him for a solid 30 minutes and then banishing him to the living room couch, you just couldn't get it out of your mind.

For context, the little bastard decided it would be a good idea to booby trap the whole living room with glitter bombs, plastic wrap "force fields" and whoppi cushions while you were out running errands. You returned later in the evening exhausted and rather irritable, only to have your mood worsened by Nikolai's little pranks, and since he was too busy reveling in the chaos, he didn't notice how mad you were until you'd exploded, though even if he had, he probably would have only laughed harder. Beyond livid, you chewed him out for half an hour, screaming about how you never got respect from him, how he was always causing trouble, what he did wrong, why it was wrong, and so on, until you were red in the face and out of breath. Nikolai was quite shocked, since you normally took his jokes very well, but did not respond and only stood there, gawking awkwardly at you as you stormed off in a huff.

You'd think that after having so much time alone, you would have calmed down a bit, but you hadn't. If anything, you felt worse--guilty, even. What were you feeling guilty for, anyway, you wondered. Could it be that you felt bad for yelling at Nikolai earlier? Yeah, that was probably it. That was kinda over dramatic, even for the circumstances.

"Guess I should apologize," You mumbled to no one in particular, heaving yourself out of bed and stumbling into the darkened living room, where a familiar white-haired clown sat slouched on the couch.

"Oh," He said sulkily, upon seeing you enter. "What're you mad about this time?"

"I'm not mad at you," You replied, after a second or two of hesitation. "I've...come to apologize. I shouldn't have exploded on you like that, I know you were just trying to have some fun."

Nikolai was silent for a few moments, staring at you with wide eyes, apparently unable to believe you'd made the first mood in admitting you were wrong. It took him a few seconds, but he finally declared himself with a loud sigh and shook his head sheepishly.

"Naw, I should've realized you were in a bad mood," Nikolai muttered, nervously tugging on his braid. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," You agreed, picking at your fingers since you didn't know what else to do with them. "So...uhh...come back to bed with me? It's kinda lonely without you slobbering all over me like usual."

"Cuddles?!" Nikolai erupted, springing up from the couch with renewed vigor. "OK! OK OK OK OK OK!" Cackling like a crazed hyena, the idiot proceeded to literally leap into your arms, sending you stumbling back several feet, finally crashing through the doorway to your bedroom and convienently having your upper body land on the foot of your bed. A semi-uncomfortable position it was, Nikolai was quick to correct it by scrambling under the covers on his side of the bed, excitedly awaiting you to join him. Trying your best to match his infectious energy, you dove under the blankets as well and took your rightful place smashed up against his lean torso.

Because of all the recent excitement, it was very unlikely that you'd be falling sleep anytime soon, but at least you felt better after having apologized--Nikolai probably wouldn't be holding any grudges against you since he seemed to have already forgotten, the thought long since pushed out of his head by the promise of cuddles.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 22

Kid x FemReader X Killer

Warnings: Briefly suggestive?

Changing Tides

There was no land in sight when you went out on deck. In fact, the wind was whipping at the sails and the Victoria Punk was speeding along. You looked around deck, "WHERE IS HE?!" The crew moved out of your way hastily as you stormed after your target. A few weakly put up their pointer fingers in the direction of his workshop. It was a cardinal sin to barge in without being invited. The crew all seemed to tense at once when you marched towards it and kicked the door open, slamming it behind you. 

"WHO-" Kid looked up from what he was doing, to find you already eye to eye with him, leaning over his workbench. 

"Why am I on this fuckin ship again, Kid?!" You slammed your hands down on the table. "You could have left me somewhere! Or waited to boot me off before you left!" 

He pushed his goggles up to rest on his forehead. He seemed to take in a deep breath before he spoke, like he was trying not to yell. "First of all, I told ya that my girls would have been upset with me if I left ya all crispy. Second, did ya want me to wait until the island was crawling with marines?!" Kid tugged your sleeve to shift your hand away from what he was working on. "But if ya WANT to be caught so bad, I'LL TURN THE WHOLE DAMN SHIP AROUND!" 

"IF I'M STUCK ON THIS GODDAMN SHIP FOR ANOTHER HOWEVER MANY WEEKS, I'M GOING TO LOSE MY CHANCE TO KILL THAT BASTARD, YOU FUCKIN SMARTASS." You pulled his goggles and let them snap against his head. "I need to find a ship and get after him!" 

Kid rubbed his forehead. "Yeah?! And you think yer gonna find a crew?!" He couldn't hold himself back from adding, "That didn't work out well for ya the first time, did it, Rotten?" 

The force with which you jumped over the table knocked him backwards out of his seat. Kid was easily the person who made you see red the fastest. "SHUT YOUR FUCKIN MOUTH!" Both of your hands together didn't fit around his neck. You pushed down with your full body weight, knees on either side of his chest. "STUPID FUCKIN THICK NECK TO HOLD UP YOUR STUPID FUCKIN BIG HEAD!" You growled out of frustration. 

"FER MY BIG FUCKIN BRAIN," Kid cackled, slightly raspy from your grip. He wasn't even trying to stop you. His hands were behind his head, totally unbothered by your assault. That only served to make you more mad. Kid could tell you were about to really let him have it. Relenting, he admitted, "As much as I'm enjoying this, ya can calm yer pretty little ass down." Your eyes narrowed. "We're already in pursuit. Ya think I would let them get away with kidnapping my crew?"

"Why didn't you just say that?!" You eased up on your grip.

"And miss this view?" Kid snickered. He looked you up and down. "Yer hot when yer mad." He reached to grab your chin and you swatted his hand away. That didn't seem to phase him as the same hand grabbed your thigh. "If ya just scoot down a bit I got somethin for ya ta sit on," Kid licked his lips.

His grip released you quite quickly when you brought a fist full of armament haki down into his sternum. "Fuck you, Kid," you growled, watching him cough and roll around on the floor. You left his workshop just as huffy as you went in, though now you were conflicted. Now, you weren't sure if you were mad at him or not, if you were enemies or not, and worst of all, if you were horny for him or not. Him and his stupid fuckin big co-.

Quincy's vice-like embrace cut your thoughts off from going any further. "Y/N! You're okay!" She rocked you both back and forth until you gently pushed her back.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at her. "Thanks for the concern. And you guys, all good?" 

Quincy grinned, "Only thanks to you!" She grabbed your hand and pulled you to follow her. "Come on. We wanna show you something." 

She tugged you along down to the women's quarters and very proudly presented an empty bunk to you. You gave her a questioning look.

"It's your bunk!" She was practically glowing. 

"Oh... wow..." You didn't know what to say. You had no plans to stay here long-term, but you didn't want to disappoint her. 

She rolled her eyes at you. "I know you're not staying." She put air quotes around 'not staying'. "Sleep here with us instead of alone up there." She added, with a sly grin, "Or in the captain's quarters." 

You scoffed, "Absolutely not. He can kiss my ass."

"I bet you'd like that." 

You shrugged. "Maybe I would," you stuck your tongue out at her playfully, before smiling. "Thanks, Quincy. That was... actually pretty nice of you guys." 

______________________________________________________________

Sleep escaped you. Or maybe you were fighting it. The nightmares you used to have faded over time, and now they were back in full force with recent events. You leaned against Mini in the mouth of the skull at the ship's bow, staring out over the sea. The black waves lapped at the ship, the only sign of their presence was the sound of them against the wood and the occasional flash as the moon's light was reflected in your direction. A light, salty breeze sent shivers through you, though it wasn't uncomfortably cold. You didn't take your eyes off the horizon, waiting for the first glint of light or the first emergence of a shape that would mean you were closer to catching up with the enemy. 

You had checked your log pose periodically, almost obsessively, to make sure the course of the ship was correct. You were in the weird limbo of being exhausted and yet not able to sleep in any meaningful way, maybe drifting off but waking up less than a second later. Settling on a semi-trance-like state, you rose and fell with Mini's breathing. The thoughts in your head kept circling back to all the ways you were going to make Giemsa suffer, all the ways you could prolong his agony. 

Before long, the pink tongues of light that signified dawn licked at the sky. You squinted at the horizon, looking for any sign of a ship. Nothing. 

Killer was on his way to the galley to make breakfast, noticing you as he did so. He caught Heat's attention as he came down from the crow's nest. It was shift change. Heat had been on night watch and would sleep after breakfast, while someone took his place in the crow's nest during the day. Killer gestured towards where you sat, "What's up with that?"

Heat shrugged, "She's been sitting there since midnight or so. Just sitting. Hasn't moved."

Killer nodded and dismissed him. He thought about asking you to help him in the kitchen, to get your mind off things, and perhaps for selfish reasons, too. However, after Kid had told him what transpired between the two of you, he figured you were probably still agitated. He didn't know you well, but he did know how much Kid irritated you. In fact, Kid would probably come bother you later on purpose specifically because he knew it irritated you. Killer sighed. He looked your way again before shaking his head and moving on to the kitchen.

Several times over the day, people came by to check up on what you were doing, but they were all deterred by the aura of wrath that sat heavily in the air around you. All but one, that is. Maybe he was even drawn in by it instead of deterred. You tried to ignore him, even though you knew he was there. He made it very hard by moving to stand directly in front of you, facing the sea, same as you were.

"Go. Away."

"Is that any way to talk to yer captain?" He said without turning to look at you.

"No. But you aren't my captain." Mini snorted, punctuating your sentiment. "Get out of the way. I can't see."

Now, he turned to face you, leaning against the railing. "Yer seein the only thing that matters, doll."

You knew he wasn't gonna move. He was trying to make you mad on purpose. It took a considerable effort not to play into his hand. "Whatever." You moved a few feet away from him to stand at the railing and continue your watch. 

Kid pulled a flask out and took a drink. He swished it towards you, "Want some?"

The offer was tempting. "No, I want all my senses sharp when I pull his heart out through his ass."

A bellowing laugh came from Kid. "Ya think yer gettin him first? Not a chance in hell. He's mine."

Your head whipped to look at him, "Excuse me?"

"He took my crew. He's mine." 

This time, he wasn't even deliberately trying, though you were pissed now. "I know you're fucking joking." You took a step towards him, fist balled like you were prepared to swing, and you were. "He's mine. I've been after him for far longer than you and for a better reason," you snarled. 

"And what reason would that be?" Kid challenged.

You turned back towards the sea and said nothing. Your nails dug into the railing. That part of you was for only you to know. Kid was far from the first person you would open up to about that. You channeled your anger back into thinking about all the ways you were going to eviscerate Giemsa. 

Kid stood there facing you, watching the knuckles on your hands turn white and your jaw setting. "Fine." Kid said shortly. "Ya get first and last." He held a hand out to shake on it. 

That was a shock. "What's the catch?" You were hesitant to accept this strange change of heart. 

Kid looked away and waved his hand dismissively. "Nothin. S'only cuz ya saved my crew." 

You nodded. That's basically a "thank you". You turned back to the water, without shaking his hand. 

He looked around to make sure no one saw him stand there awkwardly holding his hand out and quickly ran his hand through his hair. Kid lingered for a minute longer before turning to leave.

"Kid."

He looked back with a grunt, expecting some smartass remark. The captain grinned, however, when he saw that your finger was pointed in the direction of the horizon, where the faintest dot of a ship sat. 

Next Chapter

[thetormentita]

the bastard queen - chapter 1

the things we do for love.

Pairing: Original female! Targaryen/Arthur Dayne

A/n: au for Robert’s Rebellion. Enjoy!

Rating: Mature (+16)

The strangling tension can suffocate even the most strong-willed courtier. With the hint of charred corpses still lingering in the air, Arthur Dayne wonders if the king has changed his clothes since the last night, where he delighted himself with the pleading yells of two prisoners as wildfire devoured them and the rest of the people gathered in the Great Hall drowned in horror.

With the reliable Barristan Selmy guarding the meeting with him, his lilac eyes observe the men as they take their seats around the wooden table, only the naïve Qarlton Chelsted and the newly appointed Hand Owen Merryweather to not show grim faces. The tension is palpable, a heavy cloak of discomfort wrapping around each lord present. The king's recent actions have instigated fear and uncertainty, even among the most loyal men.

As matters follow one to another, almost the whole group of men trying to decide what is best for the realm, Arthur’s mind is partly elsewhere, honed by years of duty and vigilance. His gaze, under the guise of passive surveillance, catches every subtle shift and twitch among those gathered. All of them or too cautious or too coward to dare and defy the monster with the crown upon his brow.

“With your permission, Your Grace” lord Merryweather’s voice almost trembles with hesitation, fearful of the reaction of the king. “There is a pressing matter this council has to discuss” Aerys raises a pointy eyebrow towards him, and Arthur can spot the slight curl of the king's lip, an ominous prelude to his temper which could ignite over the most trivial of provocations. “Princess Valaena’s marriage.”

This mention of the Princess Valaena, the beloved jewel of the kingdom, causes a distinct shift in the atmosphere of the room. The council members exchange wary glances as the name of the only daughter of the monarches is put over the table. They all have witnessed during the years the mood swifts and the affronts of Aerys towards his own daughter, branding her as ‘bastard’, ‘dragonspawn’ or worse only because the colour of her hair is darker than the rest of her family, and they have developed various degrees of sympathy towards her. Arthur Dayne himself stiffens when Merryweather dares to speak her name, thinking of him as unfit to even think about his princess.

“We should wait” Rhaegar Targaryen, the Crowned Prince, also shows himself most uncomfortable in his chair with the idea of being separated from his beloved sister. “My lady wife is still recovering and she gladly keeps her company. It would not be wise to rush matters.”

The tension around the table is palpable. A quick glance from Rhaegar to both kingsguards looks more like a plea than he actually wants to.

“Nonsense!” the king screeches, the council apparently having passed over the menacing looks of the loon, with his nails more like claws pointing at his own son and heir and to his master of ships, who dares to agree with the prince. “That girl will be useful to the crown for once in her life.”

“Your majesty” lord Velaryon counterattacks, having properly made his work towards the eyes of the Mad King for quite a time, “with your permission, I would suggest the lady Valaena to get married to me. Houses Velaryon and Targaryen have had a shared history towards the centuries, and Driftmark would prove a safe refuge to our much beloved princess.”

Aerys, his gaze sharp as the blades his ancestors wielded, seems to consider consider Velaryon's proposal with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion. Leaving hopes for a response hanging in the air like a thick fog, he seems to find amusement in the pause, rejoicing himself as he crashes Lucerys Velaryon’s hopes with an acrid cackle.

“Do you think that I would allow my only daughter to be pushed to the margins of my realm, hidden away on Driftmark, while I sit the Iron Throne?” Aerys’s voice rises, filled with annoyance and madness, and it seems that the balls of every member of the council shake on their pedestals over the table “How dare you to even think of putting a hand on her!?”

It seems this time the protective father has taken the place of the abusive parent, and if it weren’t for the space between them both, with Aerys sat at the head of the table and the Lord of the Tides almost at the other side of it, the king would have easily thrown his wine cup to his face, or even worse.

“Your Grace” it is this time Lord Varys’ modulled voice to speak, and the whole bunch of men put their attention upon him, the Master of Whispers. The Spider. “I can think of a much more adequate suitor for the princess’ hand” his eyes dart towards Lucerys Velaryon, who just answers with a half lidded gaze behind his own cup. “Storm’s End.”

He was just a lad when the tragedy of Shipbreaker’s Bay took place, only a mere squire to prince Lewyn before he joined the Kingsguard himself. The death of the beloved Steffon Baratheon and his lady Cassana stroke the Red Keep, with queen Rhaella helplessly weeping for them in the Great Sept of Baelor and the Mad King descending upon madness more quickly even.

“Lord Steffon and lady Cassana died in a mission for the Crown, and the young stags would surely feel again protected by the Crown if their house would join house Targaryen again, like two generations ago with the arrival of princess Rhaelle.”

Both kingsguards exchange glances, almost like searching an explanation or even a support. If the only unsullied member of that wretched family was to be taken away, what could be awaiting around the corner?

“Storm’s End seems the most appropriate place, father” Rhaegar’s measured words leave Arthur and Barristan nonplussed. “Robert Baratheon is a force to be considered, and Valaena can be the most ideal way to make him bend the knee to the Crown’s wishes.” Both knights look at the prince, their expressions a mix of concern and understanding. They knew the politics of the realm as well as any, and the value of strategic marriages could not be underestimated, but Rhaegar giving up his sister, his only confident, the receiver of his hopes and praises, is something none of them can explain. “Besides, it is close to Kingslanding, with a safe passage through the Kingswood now that ser Arthur led the royal offensive and cleaned the road of thieves.”

As soon as the meeting meets its end, quickly Arthur and Barristan make their way towards Rhaegar, whose paces drive him to the Master of Whispers. Both knights carefully take their places behind them as the prince and the Spider talk about trivialities before the conversation takes a sharp turn into more pressing matters. The air around them thickens with tension as Rhaegar's tone becomes earnest, almost urgent.

“Do tell me there is a good reason for having placed that wretched idea on the table.” he grits, trying to look as calm and regal as always, the type of king Westeros deserves instead of Aerys.

“I seem to recall that you and I pursue the same interests, Your Highness. Our primary aim is to ensure the stability and prosperity of the realm,” the Spider responds, his voice smooth and measured, a stark contrast to the prince’s fight to keep his composure.

Barristan Selmy swiftly opens a door, half hidden at mere sight and the three of them end up pushing Varys inside, quickly closing it behind, making sure nobody listens to their clandestine meeting. The room, lit by a single flickering candle, casts long shadows across the faces of the men, adding an air of mystery.

“You have to be kidding, Spider” the Stormlander spits, arms crossed over his chest, clearly disgusted.

“We share a common goal, despite our interests being different” the bald man observes each and every one of them and Arthur finds it hard to not gut that man in that room and let his heart drive his actions. “With the temperamental Robert Baratheon linked to the crown, maybe one day he witnesses one of the King’s fits and surprises us. I find it surprising that none of you have reached that thought…”

“How sure you are that he will risk everything for the princess?”

It is not a question, but almost a growl that escapes his lips. With his wrist resting carelessly over Dawn’s pommel, Arthur’s lilac eyes observe the eunuch’s face with attention, ready to defend Valaena’s honour if he musts.

“She is a complete delight” a cunning smile upon Varys’ thin lips repulses him. “There are lots of young lords who would gladly risk their titles, their lands, even their lives for a chance to stand beside her. All she has to do is charm him, and he will do whatever she wishes, no matter the cost. Power, in its most intoxicating form, wouldn’t you agree, my lord?”

Arthur’s grip on Dawn tightens with the mere thought of his princess used as a mere tool in the dangerous games of court. The idea of Valaena, with her vibrant laugh and kind heart, being manipulated by those who see her as nothing more than a pawn in their quests for power fills him with a cold, seething anger. Yet, amidst this storm of emotions, a steadfast resolve takes root within him. He knows the challenges that lay ahead are daunting, but the thought of Valaena facing these alone is something he cannot, and will not, entertain. The fire in his heart, fueled by his love and unwavering determination, ignites a clear path forward. He vows to himself to keep her away from any harm, to guard her as long as he breathes, to stand by her side against the shadows that seek to engulf her.

Only when Rhaegar dismisses the Master of Whispers he allows himself to show the true depth of his concern.

“What happened to the vision, Rhaegar?” his voice, bitter, reflects the turmoil swirling within him. “We were supposed to protect her, to ensure her safety above all else. Have we lost ourselves that badly in the webs of the spider that we are unable to see the light with our own eyes?”

The vision. How hard it had been to handle the burden of such a prophecy, one who sealed the fate of the young princess to a loveless marriage, to the hopes of bearing a saviour, the future of house Targaryen depending on her fragile shoulders… At least she has Elia by her side. For a short while.

[scaryscarecrows]

Ownership

Arkham City is the latest bad idea in a long, long line of bad ideas. Jason’s really not sure why, exactly, this was allowed to happen (well, money, but still), but it was and it’s making keeping tabs on the Batman a lot harder.

But Jason’s not here for the Bat tonight. He’s here because of the very persistent rumors that something’s wrong with Joker. Morbidly, he’d like to know. Practically, he needs to know; Joker, out of all the freaks in here, is likely to intervene in any of Jason’s plans. His obsession with Batman makes him a dark horse, and while Jason is inclined to kill him, that operation must be handled delicately. Joker’s the sick sort of bastard to booby-trap himself and if Jason never gets another faceful of laughing gas, it will be too soon.

Joker’s hideout is not hard to find. Even a complete fucking moron with no eyes and no ears would find it. It’s quiet tonight, only a few guards and–thank God–no sign of Harley. The guards go down easy, no bullets required, and soon enough he’s slipping into Sionis’ old mill.

…

Huh.

Penguin’s got a big sonofabitch on his payroll now, with one arm. One half of a pair of conjoined twins, apparently. He hadn’t realized the twin had come here. Somehow, the sigh of a ginormous clown is…a lot scarier than it should be. He’s just gonna leave that guy alone. He’s not here for him anyway, he’s just here for a little investigation. He’s even in civvies, to blend in a little better.

Creak.

He hears it too late; before he can turn, there’s a wire wrapping around his throat and pulling, bringing him to the ground and digging into his skin and he can’t breathe–

“Baby boy!”

Nononononononononononono–

Joker leans over him. Flesh is peeling off his skull and there’s pustules and he stinks like somethin’ Croc threw up. But dark spots are dancing in Jason’s vision now and all he can think is, I don’t wanna die here, please–

All at once, the wire loosens and Joker’s straddling him, those purple leather-gloved fingers stroking the brand lovingly.

“I’ve missed you!” He cackles, and it quickly turns into a nasty cough. Jason’s just frozen, gasping for breath and caught in a loop of don’t make him mad don’t make him mad. “Naughty, naughty, running away like that! But now you’re heeeere again, with meeeee.”

NO!

Jason elbows him the face, bursting a pustule and peeling a chunk of skin off. He intends to follow it by clawing the rest of the bastard’s face off, but Joker’s stronger than he looks, even now, and he lunges forward with one arm pressed against Jason’s throat. The other hand opens a switchblade and traces it under his eye first, then down towards his lips, and then back up again–

–and cuts the brand back open.

It’s not fully healed. Jason’s not sure it would matter. He can’t tell if the pain is physical, psychological, or both. It doesn’t matter, anyway: Joker draws the bloody knife back with a wide, wide smile, wipes the blade across Jason’s lips, and tucks it away.

“You’re mine,” he rasps. “Don’t ever forget that, Todders.”

Jason swallows. Old conditioning is pushing him to submit, to nod his head and whisper yes sir, m’sorry, sir, please don’t do it again.

The Arkham Knight, however, isn’t having being a goddamn chew toy. And that’s the side that wins out.

Mostly.

He brings his knee up to the bastard’s crotch and takes advantage of the immediate recoil to shove him to the side, scramble to his feet, and run.

He’ll tell himself, later, that he let the bastard live so he could die slowly and painfully. He might even believe it, after a while. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s not going back, he’s not doing that again.

He can’t live through that again.

THE END

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I just listened to an audio from an account I follow for funny 141 bits and laughs here and there and it’s a decidedly well voiced teaser for what I imagine is a horny NikPrice + Listener audio with a predatorily charged tone.

The reason I’m choosing to Share With the Class™️ is because this stuff is not normally for me but also has still somehow sent my mind *places* and I did not want to go there alone.

Like, something about both of them preying together on one or multiple poor (lucky) bastard who they give the best night of their life is an…appealing thought, to say the least. Rugged mad men who slay together, prey together and lay together and whatnot.

(If desired:

Woe, TikTok video upon ye

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTFs8UX5W/)

Mikey, I listened to it and my partner gave me the funniest bloody look, I swear. So, now I've stopped cackling...

Thank you for this. Yes, absolutely; two rugged, horny, experienced older queer men showing someone a good time in the wilderness is one hundred thousand times my thing. Love the hint of hunter-prey fun as well, because that kink is top tier, especially if you love the outdoors. Can you imagine the thrill of someone like Gaz or Soap? Or even Ghost (he'd really give them a run for their money)?

They think they've got away and the chase is over; legs and lungs burning, body exhausted. Price appears from the darkness like a fucking demon, and then Ghost or whoever turns to make a break for it, but they run directly into Nikolai. "Where are you going, zaychonok? The fun is only getting started." They're done, they're fucked (biblically and otherwise), under the paw of a wolf and a bear. And they're so fucking hard.

Absolutely delish.

[nocherrybombs]

Lumine: Paimon and I are leaving for Fontaine, but before we go, what can you two chuckleheads tell me about the Fatui Harbinger stationed there?

Childe: Oh, Arlecchino? Yeah, she's a freak.

Wanderer: The Knave perfectly fits the profile of a classical sociopath. She'll be flawlessly charming right up to the moment she stabs you in the back for no other reason than to find out what color your blood is.

Childe: Her mere presence makes children weep in terror, which is probably why she spends so much of her time with them. A few weeks ago I asked her not to leave a mess in the bathroom at Zapolyarny and she threatened to disembowel me and feed my entrails to a pack of starving wolves.

Wanderer: Morning bathroom priority is determined by your rank. Sucks to be 11th, honestly.

Lumine: Holy shit you guys.

Childe: It's always a little touch-and-go with her, but deep inside she's really just the kind of person who would sell you to the Abyss Order for one corn chip.

Wanderer: That absolute lunatic had the audacity to ask me if she could remove my organs because she was mad at Dottore and wanted to, and I quote, "deny that blue-haired bastard the satisfaction". So yes, enjoy dealing with her. I'll be far, far away doing literally anything else.

Childe: Yeah, sorry comrade, you're on your own for this one. But hey, Sandrone is also in Fontaine, so at least she'll be there to keep Arlecchino in check.

Lumine: And what is Sandrone like?

Wanderer: *cackles hysterically*

Lumine: Great.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Hey, I just read your Derry Girls 'your mum rang me' oliver wood one shot and was wondering if you could do like a weasley reader (maybe percys twin) and do the scene in last series in Derry Girls where erin and james kiss and Michelle is like 'this is incest!'

No problem if can't and sorry if I've spoiled!!! X

We're Not Related

Oliver Wood x Weasley!Reader 0.9k words Warnings: some kissing, potential Derry Girls spoilers Sorry this took so long! I've been in an absolute writing funk that I'm finally coming out of. Thank you for this request, I love getting to steal Derry Girls dialogue! I cackled writing this!

~

Oliver gazed down with a smile. His girlfriend- Merlin, he really got to call her his girlfriend!- was laying on his bed reading a book. The quiet, private time together made faking sick and skipping a trip to Hogsmeade worth it.

A tiny, quiet part of Oliver felt kind of guilty. As much as he tried to deny it, deep down inside he really did consider Percy Weasley a friend. Probably his best friend, oddly enough. The three of them had hung out regularly since their second year, sometimes adding Penelope Clearwater to the mix. So going behind his back and dating his twin sister was…. not something Oliver felt great about. But he wasn’t ready for whatever fallout would follow Percy finding out about them.

Instead, he watched her, her Weasley-red hair splayed out beneath her, his heart full of the affection he’d been carrying for the past three months. As if she could feel the heat of his gaze, she looked up, scrunching her freckled nose.

“You’re staring at me,” she observed with a little hum.

“And?” Oliver replied, his soft smile morphing into a smirk.

She shrugged, putting down her book. “D’you need something?”

Oliver helped her sit up and pulled her close to himself. “Nah, got everything I need right here.”

It was a cheesy line. Incredibly lame. It should have made her roll her eyes. But because it was Oliver Wood who said it, gazing at her with those honey eyes, his arms doing that flexing thing that drove her mad, it actually worked. Before she knew it, she and Oliver were locked in an embrace, lips moving in sync, hands gripping tight to wherever they landed. Just as Oliver was gently pushing her back onto the bed, the door opened-

“Oh, you sick, sick bastards.”

Percy Weasley stood in the doorway, Honeydukes package in his hand, his face even paler than usual as his wide eyes surveyed the scene before him.

His twin sister sat up, fixing her hair. “Listen, Percy-”

“This is incest!” Percy sputtered, absently tossing the chocolates onto his own bed. Chocolates he had bought in hopes that it would cheer up his supposedly sick roommate.

His definitely-not-sick roommate made a face. “No, it’s not.”

Percy nodded. “Yes, it is, Oliver.”

“We’re not related,” Oliver pointed out, gesturing between himself and the girl who should absolutely not be in the boys’ dorm, let alone on Oliver’s bed.

“Oh, and that makes it okay, I suppose?” Percy had never felt this level of disgust and abhorrence, and maybe even a little betrayal.

His sister snorted. “Well, it makes it not incest,” she mumbled.

Percy was pacing the small room at this point, his face now beginning to redden and match his smattering of freckles. “Right. Okay. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and say that Oliver had a very nasty head injury from last night’s practice, and you-” He pointed to his sister. “-drank a botched batch of Amortentia, which has caused you to think that Wood here is an appropriate snogging partner.”

She huffed, now officially tired of her brother’s nonsense. “This is none of your business, Perce.”

The prefect’s face now matched his tie. “Oh, but it is, troll face.” His resorting to childhood insults was a sure sign of his anger. “It is very much my business. This can’t happen, okay? You two can’t get together because, putting aside the face that it makes me want to hurl, if you get together, you’ll break up, and then where does that leave me, Wood?” His gaze turned to Oliver, begging his roommate to understand. “You might be my best friend, but she’s my sister, and like it or not, I’ll have to stick with her. Don’t put me in that position.”

Oliver jumped off the bed and rushed to Percy’s side, placing a hand gently on the Weasley boy’s shoulder. “I’m your best friend, Weasley?” His honey eyes were wide, full of wonder.

“Of course,” Percy scoffed. “Aren’t I yours?”

For the first time, Oliver said the words every other Gryffindor already knew: “Yeah, you’re my best friend, Percy.”

The two boys stood, smiling at each other, relieved to finally admit their fondness for one another after years of grumbling whenever someone called them anything more than roommates.

The sound of someone clearing their throats brought them out of their tender moment.

“That’s great and all,” Percy’s sister- no, Oliver’s girlfriend- murmured. “But that doesn’t solve Percy’s… issue.”

Oliver’s cheeks reddened. “Right. Right.” He turned back to his best friend. “Listen, Weasley.” He straightened himself up. “I really like your sister. And we’ve been together three months now, and I’d like to keep seeing her. But I also don’t want to keep it secret from you anymore.” He shrugged. “I dunno. If you can’t trust your best friend to treat your sister right, who can ya trust?”

Percy narrowed his eyes a moment, turning over Oliver’s words in his mind. He had a point.

“You know if you hurt her, I know plenty of spells, right? And I’m not exactly going to punish myself for breaking any rules?”

Oliver nodded earnestly. “Yeah, yeah I know.” He gave Percy a small smack on the back. “We’re good then?”

With a sigh, Percy nodded. “We’re good.” He smiled at Oliver, the two of them officially lost in their own world.

Back on the bed, there came a small sigh. “Merlin, I wish we’d just kept this a secret.”

[fickle-tiction]

You’re Dead.

“Clark, I swear to God--hngh.” Bruce slammed his own face down into the mattress to hide his smile, despite Clark’s earlier teasing about having x-ray vision.

Bruce was stretched out on his stomach in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, having just gotten out of the shower. Clark was sitting (more like hovering) on Bruce’s thighs, and he was supposed to be giving Bruce a back massage, but a few minutes ago he started tracing some of the scars on Bruce’s back with his lips. Bruce swore up and down that he only squeaked because Clark caught him off guard, but that didn’t explain every subsequent embarrassing noise he’s made.

“Something wrong?” Clark really had that innocent act down to a science. He actually sounded concerned, the bastard. 

“You’re-” Bruce huffs when Clark drags his lips over an old bullet wound on his left shoulder blade. “-not doing it-” He clamps down on a shriek as Clark licks a delicate line across his lower back and around his side, thanking every God he can think of that the mattress prevents Clark from following it all the way around to his stomach. “-hard enough.” It comes out breathy, as though they’re doing more than goofing around like a couple of love-sick idiots. 

“You want me to do it harder?” Clark’s tone set off all sorts of warning bells in Bruce’s head, but before he could protest Clark added his fingers into the mix. “I can do it harder.” Bruce wanted to protest, both at the tickling and at the double entendre, but Clark wasted no time in dragging blunt nails over the delicate web of scars on Bruce’s back.

Bruce tried to hold out. He really did. He made it about 30 seconds before the laughter exploded out of him as he tried to army crawl his way out from under Clark. “NO!” He collapsed on the bed when Clark seized the opportunity to dance his fingers up to Bruce’s exposed armpits, gently massaging the muscle just under them.

“I’m just doing what you asked, B.” Clark’s fingers were trapped in Bruce’s armpits and wiggling like mad. 

“Get out, Get out, Get out.” Bruce laughed, trying his hardest to raise his arms so Clark would stop. Naturally, every time he tried Clark would tickle faster and cause him to cackle and snap his arms back down.

“Is there another spot you would prefer?” Clark asked, slowing his fingers down so Bruce could at least try to answer.

“Ohohoh my God, Just go ba-hahah-ack to the kissing!” Bruce practically melted into the bed when Clark took pity on him and pulled his hands out of his armpits. 

Clark started spidering his fingers over Bruce’s shoulder blades, and the reaction was almost instant. Frantic giggles started pouring out of The Gotham Bat and Clark audibly gasped, shocked to his very core. 

“Holy. Shit.” Clark whispered, gently dragging the tips of his nails over the expanse of Bruce’s back, chasing the emerging goosebumps with glee.

“Cla-hahaha-ark ple-hehehehe-please!” Bruce pleaded, squealing when Clark tickled just beneath his shoulder blades. He buried his face into the mattress again as more giggles spilled out, heat creeping up his neck when he heard Clark coo.

Clark finally took pity on him when Bruce stopped babbling and gave himself over to the laughter. He planted one final kiss at the small of Bruce’s back, satisfied when Bruce jolted with a stuttering laugh. As soon as he got off Bruce’s legs Bruce rolled over so he could level a glare at Clark. His face was flushed pink, he had crinkles around his eyes from all that laughter, and his hair was starting to curl at the ends because he didn’t have a chance to style it after his shower. He was, in a word, adorable. He would also murder Clark if he ever said that out-loud. 

“You.” Clark leaned forward and planted a kiss on Bruce’s cheek, despite the death glare. “Are.” Kiss on the other cheek. “Perfect.” Kiss on the forehead.

“You.” Bruce shoved at Clark’s chest, and Clark allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed. “Are.” Bruce swung a leg over Clark’s waist to straddle him. “Dead.” 

[freedfromthegalactichivemind]

Ok as someone with passing knowledge of She-Ra calling Entrapdak the Reylo does not. make it sound good unless you mean people THOUGHT it was like Reylo

I mean the latter. What I mean is people hating the ship so much that the fury broke fandom-containment and it all looked weird to the people not in the fandom, regardless of how poorly thought out this enemies to lovers thing...was? I mean, over in Trigun fandom, I LOATHE "Plantcest" - (sometimes called "KV") - it's a twin bother incest ship. I don't write essays about it or try to get people to stop shipping it or pretend that people are bad people for having what I think is a weird fiction-kink. I just... block tag and ignore. If you only have passing knowledge of Spop, here's the skinny: Entrapdak is basically a villain-ship. It's a pair of villains who respect each other and admire each other's work cackling it up as mad scientists, basically. It's not a hero loves villain thing - not even trying. The native fandom LOVES to compare it to Gomez and Morticia from The Addams Family. They are a pair of morally-dubious weirdos (and family! If you count Entrapta's robot that she built and Hordak's little clone-baby failed-experiment spy). Princess Entrapta starts out with the Good Guys (TM) until an accident happens and she's left for dead in the Fright Zone. She becomes enamored with the advanced technology of the Horde, as she a Chaotic Neutral type more interested in SCIENCE! than ethics. She mistakenly thinks that her friends didn't want her anymore and abandoned her on purpose, so she might as well make new friends in a new environment. By happenstance, she winds up meeting the Horde's mysterious Dark Lord Leader in THE most hilarious "Pinky and the Brain" moment and they decide to SCIENCE! together. And then Big Bad Dark Lord Hordak slowly shows his vulnerabilities and essentially becomes humanised to the audience. He's evil, but he's not pure evil. He has some interesting motivations, and in many ways is the victim of where he comes from. And then the Big Bad Ultra-Villain Horde Prime, who is made of Bastard comes in. (No one likes him. All shipping with hims in the fandom is essentially people's weird kinks with OCs or straight up crack).