#do i have any fucking CLUE what i would do otherwise? no.

[euelios]

i’ll be honest after this term the idea of going straight into grad school isn’t looking great

[birbtails]

.

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part three)

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Danny never said he knew what he was doing, but he thinks he's doing something right if the kid hasn't started crying yet. so you know, that's great. now, he just needed to get the kid out of here, so Danny could have a moment to mourn his retirement plans.

He wasn't going to blame the kid, ancients know Danny would have gone back to hero work eventually. He just couldn't let things go if he could help it, and he could in this situation.

"Alright, here's the plan." Danny announced, slapping his legs as he stood up. "it's late, you're a kid who needs sleep. let's get you home, then we can get a game plan on how to do this."

Tim had been nodding his head, even if it was reluctantly, before freezing in sudden realization. Danny raised his eyebrow in question, wondering what was wrong now.

"you want my help?" Tim asked, absolutely gobsmacked.

Oh, the kid thought Danny was just going to send him away like any reasonable adult would. Ha, Danny wished. but no. He had no clue what he was doing and this kid was his only trump card for making any of the half-assed plans still forming in his head work. AND he had a feeling if he didn't keep Tim close by, the kid would run off and do something stupid.

"Yep," Danny snorted, "you were smart enough to figure out who Batman was, and then you decided to take it upon yourself to help him; whether by convincing me to do it or yourself."

"Now then," Danny said as he walked over to the couch and pulled his hoodie from under Sam. Sam, to her credit, told him to fuck off and went back to snoring. Tucker, somehow having heard her, responded with a 'Go fuck yourself'.

Shaking his head, Danny turned back to Tim. "Let's get going. It's-" Danny turned to look at the clock, his eyes narrowing when he found it; 4 am. The kid was up and coherent enough to try and blackmail someone into being Robin at four in the morning. "-four. you seriously need to get some sleep kid. It's a school night." actually, what day was it???

Tim rolled his eyes but started to follow Danny out the door. "It's Saturday, and I've stayed up longer," he grumbled.

Danny snorted, "So have I, but we still need to sleep." He should probably try and prevent the kid from staying up longer than he should. Danny knows what years of not sleeping properly does to someone. The kid's obsessed with Batman and Robin, right? He'll just use them then.

"Robin needs all the sleep he can get. Otherwise, Batman will bench him. If Robin is benched, then who is out there helping Batman?" That's convincing, right? Does Batman even have the power to bench Robin? From the sounds of it, Robin is his kid's vigilante name. Which means he totally has the power to ground them.

Wait...

If Danny was going to be Robin, does that mean Batman would think he's his kid?

Oh, hell naw. He was not going to be adopted by another fruitloop! If Bruce Wayne even thinks about it, Danny will be out of there so fast even the Flash couldn't stop him.

Tim stumbled, his eyes wide in surprise. "Really?" he asks, turning to look at Danny in horror. Danny blinked, brain failing to remember why the kid would be surprised.

shit, what were they talking about?? Robin... It's four am... Right!

"Yep," Danny chirped, leading the kid to his car. "Now, I know everyone says not to get into a stranger's car and all that jazz, but it's the only way I'm getting you home. So, hop in."

Tim didn't even hesitate to jump into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt across his chest. Danny stared at him for a second, before opening the car door and sitting down.

"kid, you do know you're not supposed to get into strangers' cars, right?" Danny asked, closing the door and buckling up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and started the engine.

"Well, yeah?" Tim replied, turning to face him, "But you're not a stranger. You're Robin. You protect people not hurt them."

and well? Danny can't argue with that, now, can he?

"Right, fine. Just promise not to get into strangers' cars. I don't care how much you think you know about them. It's not safe, and you could get hurt."

Tim hummed, thinking about it for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, alright. I promise."

"good." Danny sighed, turning to look at the road to see if it was clear. then he sighed again, "Don't tell strangers where you live, please."

Tim looked at him in amusement, a small smile spreading across his face. "Drake manor. 1015 Mountain Drive. It's in the Crest Hill community."

"You're killing me here, kid." Danny groaned, hitting his head against the steering wheel. Then he slowly lifted his head and turned to stare at Tim, "Kid. How the hell did you get all the way over here? Mountain Drive is all the way over in Bristol??? That's, like, twelve miles outside of city limits?"

"I have my ways."

Danny narrowed his eyes, "You bribed someone, didn't you."

Tim looked away from him, fiddling with his fingers.

sighing, Danny sat up and started driving down the road. They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the chaos that was Gotham City as they drove. Tim eventually slumped over, his head resting against the window.

It took a good thirty minutes before Danny could turn onto the bridge out of town. The traffic wasn't heavy, just the occasional car here and there. It was almost peaceful.

"Turn here," Tim suddenly instructed, startling Danny.

"Tim!" Danny cried, turning to look at the kid, then back at the road. although, he did do as the kid instructed. "don't do that! you'll give me a heart attack or something! Ancients!"

Tim blinked, then shrugged. "ok," he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"my house is the one with really stupid-looking ducks carved into the gates." Tim supplied, waving his hand at the road ahead of them. "Bruce's is the one with bats, but you knew that."

"Right," Danny agreed. What were the chances that Batman happened to live in a place called Gotham and in a house with black iron gates covered in bats? It was almost as coincidental as Danny's last name sounding like Phantom. Fate really had quite the sense of humor, didn't they?

after they passed a few more dirt roads, Tim pointed at a specific one, "Turn here. The gates a little further back than everyone else's."

Danny hummed, turning the car onto the road. What was his life at this point? Driving children to their huge houses at four-thirty in the morning? agreeing to become Robin? coming out of retirement because a kid asked him to?

Bruce Wayne better appreciate all the effort this kid was going through...

A tall gate slowly popped into view, making Danny slow the car down until he could stop right in front of it. "Alright, kid. You're home. get some sleep. Go to school, I don't know, what do you rich kids do on the weekends? actually, you know what? It doesn't matter, do you have a phone?"

Tim blinked as he slowly unbuckled, "yes?"

"One that's not monitored by your parents or anyone else?"

"..."

Danny sighed, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. "Here," Danny unlocked it, went to settings and pressed the factory rest option. Once the phone finished the reset, he quickly scanned through it to make sure it was all gone before adding his second phone number. once done, he tossed it over to the kid. "here, should work for now. Don't let anyone else have it."

If this was any other situation, Danny would have gone straight to the kid's parents; but considering it was past four in the morning and there wasn't a city-wide amber alert? He has a feeling the kid needs a safety net, and well? What better than a direct line to him?

"I can't just take your phone!" Tim cried, catching the phone before it could fall to the ground.

"It's my backup one. I tend to break my phone pretty often, so I always keep an extra one on me. my current number is saved on it, you can reach out and get in contact with me now." Danny waved off the kid's concern, reaching into the back of the car to grab a bag.

with how often his phone had broken during ghost fights and how frequently his parents dissected his phone for parts? It's a habit at this point to have a backup. or Ten. Pulling the bag to the front, Danny showed the kid what was inside.

"..." Tim blinked, then looked up at Danny. "why do you have a bag of broken phones in your car?"

"Because my phones keep breaking and I figured it would be easier to just keep them for extra parts than toss them. Now," Danny tossed the bag into the back, ignoring how it tipped over and spilled the contents all over the seat. He'd clean it up later. Maybe. "It's early. You need sleep, I need sleep. We can pick another day to sit down and build a game plan."

Tim sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone in his hands, before glancing up at Danny. "You really mean it?" he asked, turning the phone around anxiously, "you really want my help?"

"kid, Tim," Danny started, tilting his head so he could make eye contact. "with how bad you say Batman's gotten? I'm going to need all the help I can get. Who better than the one who went out of his way to try and actually do something about it?"

Tim's eyes watered as he looked back at the phone. "ok," he whispered, nodding his head. Reaching up, he wiped his face clean before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"ok," he repeated, voice stronger now. "I'll help. I want to."

"Good," Danny nodded in agreement, then smiled. "get some sleep kid, you need it."

"I don't need it," Tim grumbled, turning to open the door and get out. "but if that's what it takes for you to allow me to help, then I guess I can take a nap or something."

Danny snorted, watching as Tim closed the car door and started making his way to the gate.

as soon as the kid was out of view, Danny slammed his head onto the steering wheel and groaned. He had definitely jinxed himself earlier. How hard can being Robin be? Yeah right. He hasn't even gotten to meet Bruce yet and he's already stressed.

...

Glancing up, Danny watched as the clock glitched then turned to five am.

...

Well then, he might as well do something productive since it was unlikely he'd be getting any more sleep if he went back. Sam would be up by the time he got there, which meant he'd have to answer all of her questions... which would wake Tucker up, which would mean Danny'd have to explain all over again.

Glancing around, Danny suddenly realized something.

Batman.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce Wayne; as in, Gotham's own himbo billionaire.

Who lives in Bristol.

Which is where he is right now. Logically speaking, he'd be able to find it pretty fast if he just looked at the gates. It's probably just a few houses from Tim's too, now that he thought about it...

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but when had that ever stopped Danny?

Jazz was so going to kill him for this.

Next

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 8

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Low Self Esteem, Eira has no idea how to deal with her sister, Azriel kills two Mountain Lions that try to kill him first, Rhys and Cassian are very amused and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

"Do you want to talk about Elain?" Feyra asked quietly.

They were out shopping.

Pretending like everything was well. That nothing was going on. Even Nesta had come along for their impromptu walk into Velaris.

They already had gone to a bookshop where Eira, for the first time in her life, had picked up a sewing book and actually felt like it was going to be useful to actually read it and not just look at the diagrams.  Nesta had stocked up on the romance novels she liked and had also tried to talk Eira into reading some of them as well, to which she just shook her head, her cheeks flaming.

She couldn't even deal with the romance in her real life. She highly doubted that it would be better with fictional characters. And now there they were, sitting in one of the cafes lining the streets and Feyre broached that topic.

Eira’s heart dropped at the question, her breath catching in her throat.

She didn’t want to talk about Elain. Didn’t want to think about what was going on with her sister, the fact that she couldn’t figure out how to deal with her twin, how to even think about her without getting angry.

And she did get angry. So angry. It was bubbling, boiling under the surface and if Eira had any fucking clue how to stab somebody, she would do it. 

But Feyre was looking at her expectantly, her sister waiting for her answer and so….and so what choice did she have?

"What about her?" Eira asked, trying and failing to keep her voice casual.

"What about the wedding invitation that arrived?" Feyre suggested drily. "Rhys did say that you agreed to attend. How are you feeling about it?"

Her heart thudded in her throat. The invitation. The damned invitation that she had not only agreed to attend but also meant that Azriel was going to be there too. 

She swallowed hard, feeling her palms grow sweaty and that familiar surge of rage swelling in her heart. “I…” she started. “I…I honestly would rather not talk about it.”

Feyre said nothing for a moment, looking at her intently for several beats. Looking like she was trying to read Eira’s face, trying to determine what she was feeling. There was…a trace of sympathy in her eyes. “You’re angry with her,” she said quietly, a tone of understanding in her voice, and Eira swallowed again, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

Yes. She was angry. She was furious.

"You have every right to be angry," Nesta said, her voice even. "I am angry at Elain too."

That caught her off guard. The idea that Nesta, Nesta of all people, was angry at Elain too, the idea that Eira was not the only one having…having thoughts about their sister.

“You are?” she asked, her voice shaking faintly. “Why…why are you angry with her?”

It was…she had thought that no one else had these thoughts towards Elain, these angry thoughts. That no one else was struggling to not let their temper get the best of them, and the realization that that apparently wasn’t the case felt like a breath of fresh air to her constricted lungs.

“Of course, I am,” Nesta spat out. “Eira, she spent months, years, manipulating the circumstances around her for what? Because she thought she was the prettier one and you didn’t deserve Azriel? That if Elain couldn’t have him, nobody should?! She did it on purpose, Eira! She knew exactly what she was doing and she did it nonetheless.”

Jealousy, Rhys had said. But he hadn’t told her that Elain thought that because she was the prettier one and Eira didn’t deserve Azriel. He hadn’t…he hadn’t mentioned that. 

But did it matter? It was the truth. 

She could fix her teeth and use potions on her hair and Elain would still be more beautiful.

But…hearing it spoken so plainly, hearing it put into such cold and simple facts made her heart twist painfully in her chest because…Nesta was right. She was absolutely, one hundred percent right.

Elain had lied to them. Had purposely tried to get in the way of her relationship with Azriel, and had lied to her. Had chosen Lucien and still tried to do everything she could to ruin things for Eira with Azriel.

She took a breath, her hands twisting together on her lap. “I…I am still angry,” she admitted shakily. “I cannot imagine…I can still barely believe that she would do that. That she would want to do that, all of it.” This was Elain. Her twin. For 9 months they had shared their mother’s womb. And…And she had done this? Out of jealousy? Out of spite? What had Eira done to her to deserve that?!

Eira took a breath, her hands twisting together on her lap. “I…I am so angry,” she admitted shakily. “I cannot imagine…I can't...I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive her," she whispered. "If I can ever look at her with something else but hatred. She sees these visions and instead of using them to help people she...she wanted to take them from me," Eira choked out. "She tried to take my babies from me. How am I supposed to forgive her for that?"

"You aren't," Nesta said quietly. "You don't need to forgive her, Eira."

Her heart was pounding. It was….hearing it said like that, that she didn’t have to forgive Elain…she didn’t need to forgive her baby sister. She had thought…she had thought that forgiving her, accepting her apologies, that was something mandatory. Something expected of her.

“I don’t?” she asked in a small voice. “But…but she’s my sister. My twin sister. How can I...how can I not forgive her?”

She had always been in the middle, the peacemaker. The one who had tried to smooth things over between her older sisters and the youngest, the one who had always, always played the mediator. How could she not forgive Elain, when she had done her best to keep peace between the three of them her whole life?

And Feyre’s expression softened, that look of sympathy in her eyes growing, and she reached out, taking Eira’s hand in a gentle, comforting grip. “You aren’t obligated to forgive her,” she told her gently, her voice soft. “Even if she’s your sister. Even if she apologizes to you for what she’s done. You don’t have to accept that apology.”

"You don't even need to listen to her apology if you don't want to," Nesta added quietly. "You don't need to do anything, you don't want, Eira."

Her breath caught in her throat and something in her chest clenched at the words. That…that she didn’t need to listen to the apology, that she didn’t even need to let her make an apology. It…it all sounded so very freeing, and yet…and yet she couldn’t get rid of the nagging thought that it was all so very wrong, that she needed to forgive Elain because she was her sister.

"You don't need to go to that wedding either," Feyre said quietly. "If you don't want to. But if you want to, I imagine Azriel isn't going to leave you out of his sight."

It did make her flinch. She knew that she couldn't demand that Azriel stay in Velairs, demand that he never saw her twin sister again...but that wound was still raw...and he expected it to stay like that for a little while.

Her heart twisted as she was reminded of the fact that even if she did attend the wedding…if she decided to go…Azriel would be there with her. Would be right at her side the whole time, and he would…he would be forced to see and be around Elain. He would have to see her, talk to her, and be around her. Be around the woman he had once...been in love with. That he had preferred over Eira.

And he would be able to see...see the differences. He would compare them. And Eira would be the one to end up lacking.

She swallowed hard, that hot, bitter sensation of jealousy welling in her throat as she considered that. She would be compared. Compared to Elain, and she would always be...less than her. Not as pretty. Not as desirable. Not as...perfect.

That hot, bitter jealousy made her want to lash out, made her fingers curl into her palms, her nails digging into her skin. She wanted….she wanted to be better than Elain, she wanted to be the one that Azriel wanted. That he lusted after. Not Elain. Her.

But she wasn't. She was just...plain, average Eira. She wasn't beautiful, in the same way that Elain was. And she...she would always be second best to that beautiful, delicate, feminine beauty that Elain possessed.

She...she would never be as pretty, as lovely...as perfect as Elain. And she would have to watch Azriel around Elain. Would have to watch and see those comparisons in his eyes, would have to witness first-hand him seeing her lack compared to...compared to her perfect, beautiful sister and know that he found her...well, lacking.

She would have to watch the man that she was desperately, hopelessly, obsessively in love with be around the woman that he had once been in love with and know...know that he would be drawn to her, would notice the beauty and the delicacy and elegance that Elain possessed in a way he had never done with Eira.

That he would...he would see that elegance and beauty and he would...he would find her lacking. He would find her plain, and boring, and just...average, and he would regret that he couldn't have the beauty of Elain. That...that he had to put up with just...plain, ordinary Eira instead.

"The shadows nearly wrung Elain's neck," Nesta said quietly. "When we found out...when Azriel figured out that she lied to him about the earrings...They flung themselves at her. He nearly didn't manage to get them back under control. I have never seen him that furious, Eira."

Her heart jolted at the news, her breathing catching in her throat. The shadows...the shadows had nearly choked Elain?

She could easily picture it, the darkness swarming around Elain, choking the life from her, all in an effort to keep her away from their master. And it...it hadn’t just been a quick, momentary attack. Azriel had lost control of them enough that he had almost not managed to get them back in line.

She stared at the one wisp of shadows that liked wrapping itself around her wrist like a bracelet. "You choked her?" Eira asked, her voice shaky.

No, they disagreed. We wanted to. Master didn't let us. We wanted to. Wanted to squeeze the life from her. Wanted her to suffer, to feel pain. Wanted revenge. 

The admission surprised her, the cold, almost bloodthirsty feeling coming from the shadows surprising her. They...they truly wanted to kill Elain, truly wanted to harm her, and the only thing that had stopped them was Azriel.

"Why?" Eira asked.

The shadow brushed against her skin, another soft caress. It wrapped more tightly around her wrist, a gentle, almost possessive hold. She hurt you, they told her quietly. She hurt you, and we wanted to hurt her back. Wanted her to suffer for all the pain she caused you. You cried because of her. That alone would have been enough. But then…then we saw the vision. She kept the babies from being born. We could have had siblings! Master could have been so happy! 

Her heart thumped, and she...she could feel the genuine bitterness in the shadow's voice, the anger they felt towards Elain for keeping them from being born. For preventing them from ever having been alive in the first place.

Master would have been so happy, they whispered in her ear. We would have been so happy. And she kept them from being born. She kept them from existing at all.

And she...she could relate to that. She could understand that bitterness, the anger and the hate, because Elain was the reason that Eira had lost her babies. The reason that Eira didn't have her beautiful daughter because Elain had done everything she could to keep her from ever being born. 

And the shadows...the shadows hated her for that. They could have had siblings. They would have been able to have a family, to be happy, and Elain had taken that away from them, had stolen that chance from them. She had prevented Azriel’s beautiful, perfect babies from even being a possibility.

And they hated her for it. The shadows hated Elain, and they wanted her to suffer because she had caused Eira to suffer. Because she had hurt Eira, she had hurt Azriel, and she had hurt them, because without her Eira might have gotten to hold her newborn daughter in her arms.

"You can't kill her when we go to the Day Court," Feyre said carefully. "You have every right to be angry, but you can't..."

Eira felt the shadows coil tightly around her wrist, the tendrils wrapping around each other, wrapping around her skin. It almost felt like they were embracing her, holding her tight like they were protecting her like they never wanted to let her go.

We know, the shadows said in a hiss. We know we can’t kill her. Master doesn’t want us to kill her.

And you don't need to worry about Master wanting her anymore, the shadows told her quietly. He's so angry with her...he despises her.

Her heart twisted in her chest, that horrible sensation of jealousy and possessiveness swirling in her gut as the shadows spoke. Azriel was angry with Elain. He despised her.

“He does?” she asked breathlessly, her heart thudding in her ears.

The shadows coiled more tightly around her wrist, a possessive embrace. He does, the shadows confirmed. He’s furious with her. He…he will not forgive her for hurting you. He will not want you to forgive her. Not for this. For…for any of this.

That made her feel a strange sense of satisfaction, of gratification to know that Azriel wouldn’t ever want her to forgive Elain. That he was, in fact, furious enough at Elain that he would never, ever forgive her himself, and he didn’t want Eira to forgive her either.

You should ask Master about it, the shadows assured her. He would tell you himself, the shadows insisted. If you asked him. He would tell you how much he despises Elain. He would tell you that he will never forgive her, for any of this.

"I will," Eira said quietly, looking up to see both of her sisters watching the interaction wide-eyed.

"I am never going to get used to this," Feyre mumbled while Nesta watched the shadows near speculatively.

The shadows grumbled again, clearly not liking being scrutinized by Feyre or Nesta. It was the sort of grumpy, slightly possessive attitude that Eira would expect from a pet, and the idea made her suppress a smile.

Instead, she simply looked down as the shadows gave her wrist another soft, almost gentle squeeze. As if they were reassuring her, letting her know that they would be there for her.

"So, do you need...a new dress?" Feyre asked her. "For the wedding?” she asked her. “We could go poke around some of the shops… “Maybe we even find something for your birthday! That’s coming up too!” 

That question made her pause, and she bit her lower lip, considering it. A new dress…she did have several dresses that she loved, but…there was a part of her that wanted a dress that would be so utterly breathtaking that maybe for once she would manage to be beautiful. 

“Perhaps…” she said hesitantly. “Perhaps something blue...I need to start thinking about Solstice presents too.” Her birthday marked the end of summer, with Elain’s wedding just days later. And then Eira would need to start working on Solstice gifts if she wanted to have them done in a timely manner.

It was one of the things she always made an effort to do, making sure that she got her sisters a Solstice gift, something special specifically for each of the women.

 But this year...this year, she dreaded the thought of making a gift for Elain, of crafting something with her own hands for someone she was feeling so betrayed by. It would be an effort to not allow her anger to colour the gifts Elain received, to make Eira's frustration and pain not obvious in whatever gift she chose to make.

And she didn't even want to think about the hair ribbons she already had embroidered as a birthday gift for Elain...or the bedspread she had made as a wedding gift.

It almost made her sick to think about those two gifts, the things that Eira had worked so hard on, pouring all of her efforts and skill into, and realizing that they were gifts for someone that she was starting to despise. Someone who had deliberately hurt her.

It was almost physically painful to think of all of the effort she had put into the gifts, the work and skill and love she had poured into them.

She felt a strange sort of desire to just…to not make anything for Elain. A very petty part of her wanted to just…not do anything for her at all, not get her a present this Solstice.

But that was extremely petty and extremely childish, and Eira knew that she would make something eventually. Eventually, she would find the drive to make a gift for Elain. Even if she was not happy doing it.

Something for another moment to think about, because otherwise, she would burst into tears. "Can we go to the Palace of Threads and Jewels?" she asked instead. "I need to drop off some of my commissions...and I could look for some fabric for a new dress."

The idea of going to the Palace of Threads and Jewels seemed lovely, and it would give her plenty of things to distract herself with. Plenty of distractions to keep her from thinking about, well, everything.

And it would give her a chance to look over the different bolts of material, see if she could find a bolt of something lovely for a new, blue dress.

“Of course,” Feyre said immediately, and even Nesta nodded at the suggestion, clearly seeing the way Eira was looking for any sort of distraction she could find. And there would be plenty of distractions in the market, plenty of ways to keep her mind occupied as she browsed through the different shops.

She dropped off her commission first, Carden, the female she worked for coming out to talk to her. "I haven't seen you in so long, Eira," the other woman greeted her brightly. "Beautiful work as always," she complimented her. "Your sisters?" she asked, as she took in Feyre and Nesta standing a few feet away.

"We are having a day out shopping," Eira answered easily. "Do you have anything new for me?" Eira asked her. 

Carden smiled widely, her grey eyes glittering as she gestured for Eira to come into the shop, sweeping back the curtain so that the younger woman could follow her into the small, cramped shop that was filled to the brim with bolts of material.

“For you, I have plenty,” she answered, walking over to a far wall of the shop. “Your skill is always in demand.” She pulled down a dress made out of of beautiful, shimmering silk, the fabric so soft that it practically felt like water.

"I need that hemmed. Two people have already tried and failed," Carden said with a sigh.

She held up the dress, and Eira could almost feel how slippery the fabric was, the smooth, shimmering silk sliding against itself. It looked like it would be a nightmare to stitch, and she could see that the hem was already starting to come undone in places, the stitches loose in the wrong sort of way. She would need to stitch the entire hem again if it wanted any chance of staying on without continuing to unravel.

“This is it?” she asked, taking the dress from Carden's hands.

"Yes," the woman answered with a sigh, rolling her eyes as she watched Eira holding the dress, the fabric almost seeming to slither around her hands. "I don't know what sort of material this is, but it's made every needlewoman I had try to work with it go half mad. They have all attempted to finish this dress, and failed."

"How hard have they tried?" she asked, her fingers tracing over the material, the silken fabric sliding against her skin. It was soft, but it didn't seem like it would be that difficult to stitch. Challenging, and certainly more time-consuming from most of the other dresses that she stitched, but difficult? Not truly.

Carden laughed. "Have a go then," she invited.

"I will," Eira said easily. "Same price as always?"

"For you, I will give you twice your normal price," the woman said in an amused tone. "If you can finish that dress without having an emotional breakdown."

"Agreed," Eira said calmly. "I'll let you know how it goes." 

Carden nodded, her eyes glittering with mischief as they shook hands to seal the deal. "Oh, I look forward to hearing about your progress," the woman said with a laugh, glancing over at Feyre and Nesta who were hovering by the front door, clearly not wanting to come into the cramped sewing shop.

Eira chuckled faintly, amused by her sisters' discomfort at the mess that was the sewing shop. And then she nodded at Carden, heading back over to her sisters. "I'll see you later," she told the woman. "...And I promise that I will not have an emotional breakdown."

"So where to next?" Nesta asked her as she stepped outside the shop. 

"One of the fabric shops," Eira answered easily. "I have a list."

It made Feyre laugh. “Of course, you do,” Feyre said in a fond voice, linking her arm through Eira’s as they began to walk. “And I assume this list is quite long?”

"I need fabric for Solstice presents," Eira said in the way of explanation.

“Oh, now I understand,” Feyre said in a mock-serious voice. “Only the important things.”

Nesta chuckled faintly, the expression on her face amused. “And is a new dress on this list?” the eldest sister asked.

"Fabric for it at least.”

***

"See it positively...At least it only ripped the leathers and not your skin?," Cassian said drily. Azriel growled in response.

What should have been an easy trip into Illyria, visiting one of the camps to quell unrest, because Cassian was busy with another, had ended with him killing not one, but two fucking mountain lions.

Cassian clapped his shoulder in a friendly gesture, clearly amused by the other male’s sour mood. "It could have been worse," the other male repeated.

"How?" Azriel retorted. "Just...tell me how this could have possibly gotten any worse."

"At least you got the pelts out of it?" Cassian suggested, making Rhys snort and Azriel growl.

"Yes, that makes it so much better," Azriel snapped, the shadows around him coiling in agitation and irritation.

Rhys was clearly doing his best to keep his expression neutral, but it was very obvious that Azriel’s bad luck had amused him.

"Don't be too sour, Az. At least you didn't get any more scars out of this?" he suggested next.

That comment made Cassian snicker, and Azriel glared. "Oh, yes," he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I didn't come out of this with any more scars. That completely makes up for the fact that it took me an hour to skin those two mountain lions."

There was a knock at the door of Rhys office, just as Azriel continued "And now It will take me another hour to patch my leathers, just because they thought I would make a nice mid-afternoon snack!"

Cassian outright laughed, making Azriel glare at him for the second time. He was not amused.

"Or you could give them to me, and I'll fix it," his mate's quiet voice came from the doorway.

All three of them turned, seeing Eira standing by the open door, her head angled slightly. Her eyes gleamed with suppressed laughter, and Azriel could feel the shadows around him immediately perking up at her presence.

Her gaze settled on his shredded jacket, trailing over the rips in the leather. "...That is a...very large rip," she said quietly and, behind him, Cassian snickered again.

Azriel sent a glare in the other male's direction, before answering Eira. "They got a good bit of the stitching too," he said with a sigh. "I'm going to have to have it redone completely probably."

"Hmmm..." she hummed, moving closer to get a better look. Her eyes scanned over the jacket, and Azriel had to hold back a shiver as her fingers touched one of the tears, feeling the fabric between her fingertips. "The leather was torn along with the stitching..." she said quietly, almost to herself.

Her eyes were still on the jacket, and Azriel could practically see the wheels turning as she considered the problem, her lips pursed.

She bit at her lower lip, and he resisted the urge to brush his thumb across the skin, smooth it, and soothe the little bite mark she was leaving. Instead, he just watched and waited, as she continued to examine the jacket.

"Maybe... maybe I can salvage it."

"You can?" Azriel asked in surprise, not expecting that answer. He had honestly thought that she would just suggest a new jacket, and be done with it. Do not consider trying to save the ruined material.

"Yes. Give it to me," she said easily. "Actually, I just wanted to ask Rhys if he could cast that spell on my new books."

She looked up, clearly directing her question at Rhys, who was watching the entire interaction with a small smile on his face.

He huffed a soft, amused laugh, and Azriel could see the glimmer of fondness in his eyes. "Of course, Eira," he answered. "Come here."

Eira gave him a quick, grateful smile as she handed him the books she'd brought with her. "I need that jacket if I am supposed to fix it," she told Azriel calmly.

"Now?" he blurted out. Did she just want him to...strip it off, right here? 

"Yes," Eira answered simply.

But Cassian, the bastard, snickered again. "And in front of an audience," the male teased. Azriel levelled a dark look at him. Cassian ignored his glare, clearly finding it extremely amusing. Rhys seemed to be doing everything in his power not to laugh as well.

And Eira, completely oblivious to all of the undercurrents in the room, just continued to look at him steadily, waiting.

He could feel Cassian’s, Rhys’s, and the shadows gazes on him.

He let out a long, slow sigh, and then, trying his best to ignore all of the other people watching, he slid the destroyed jacket off.

It took some effort to avoid wincing at several of the pull on his injuries, his shoulder protesting at the movement. He knew that he'd be sore for a few days, the mountain lions doing a number on him, but he'd had far worse.

Finally, he stripped out of the jacket and held it out for her to take. Eira's eyes darted over his skin, her cheeks pinking.

But, after a moment, she took the jacket from his hands and looked away, taking a moment to smooth over the ruined fabric with gentle hands, picking up her book and quickly leaving the room.

The room was silent once she left, all of them watching the now empty doorframe.

For a moment, no one said a word.

Then, almost the same moment, both Rhys and Cassian erupted into laughter. Rhys chuckled deeply, while Cassian just cracked up, the sound full of genuine amusement.

"Well, that was...interesting," Rhys managed to say, between laughing.

“I didn’t know she had it in her,” Cassian added, leaning against the table as he laughed, clearly extremely amused.

Azriel just grumbled, staring at the door. “Shut up.”

"Oh, don't grouse because your mate was more interested in your jacket than you," Cassian told him with a snicker, still struggling to regain control of his voice.

Rhys, the bastard, just laughed again, his eyes sparkling with humour.

“Oh, shut up,” Azriel grumbled again, glaring at his two friends. He could feel his cheeks heating slightly, and he was absolutely certain that they were both enjoying this just a bit more than they should be.

“Well, you have to admit,” Rhys said in a choked tone, clearly trying not to laugh again. “It was a bit funny to see her completely ignore your bare chest in favour of an old, ruined jacket.” Cassian burst into fresh, loud laughter as soon as the words were out of Rhys’s mouth, the sound far too gleeful.

Even Rhys cracked up a little again, looking far more amused than Azriel thought was reasonable.

A low growl rose in Azriel's throat, but it didn't do anything to stifle the laughter from the other two. They were clearly having far too much fun with his misery.

"How is she doing with her training?" he asked instead, and Rhys sobered.

Rhys hummed, and the mirth that had been so evident in his face faded as his expression turned serious. "She's getting better far quicker than I thought," he admitted. "She has a surprising amount of control of her lightning. Not yet off the intensity but definitely of making it appear and disappear at will." "You should let her see light a candle. It's working quite well," Rhys told him.

This grabbed both Azriel and Cassian's attention, both of them giving Rhys an interested look.

"Candles?" Cassian repeated.

Rhys hummed, nodding. "We tried that yesterday," he said with a faint smile. "It took a moment, but once she managed it her control was almost instant. We ended the lesson quite a bit earlier than most."

"That's...more control than I would have expected," Azriel said quietly.

For a moment, both he and Cassian were silent as they both considered that information.

Then Rhys chuckled dryly. "She is getting far too amused by having lighting in the palm of her hands."

Amusement was better than outright fear. And the mental image of Eira with lightning in the palm of her hand was…something that he would need to think about nearer when he was…alone. 

His brothers did not let him live down the jacket thing and he escaped to find Eira after the meeting, sitting in the dining room, 

his jacket spread out before her. And to his surprise...lightning was sparking at her fingertips. He had never seen it before. Not when she was clearly in control. 

Azriel stood quietly in the doorway, staring at Eira, transfixed by the lightning flickering between her fingers. She was completely oblivious to his presence, so wrapped up in what she was doing that she didn’t even glance in his direction.

He took the moment to watch her, admiring the look of concentration on her face, the way that her brow furrowed.

He had never in his life seen something more beautiful. He could feel the shadows around him beginning to coil in agitation, clearly as captivated by the display as he was. They wanted to reach out, to touch, to feel the lightning in her hands. And Azriel...wanted much the same.

And then she pressed her thumb and index finger together and the sparks disappeared. Like they had never been there in the first place.

She shook out the jacket. It took her a moment to realize he was there, her eyes lifting as she finally noticed him hovering in the doorway. He watched as surprise washed over her face, the look shifting into something bashful as her cheeks pinkened.

"I burn the ends of the threads so I don't unravel them," she said quietly. "It's the best use I have found for the lightning yet."

Azriel just stared at her for a second, as his brain tried to process that sentence. "You're...using lighting to... burn the threads?" he blurted out, sounding a bit incredulous. She had this amount of power at her fingertips...and that was what she used it for?

Somehow it was so Eira that he couldn't help but chuckle.

She looked faintly sheepish, her cheeks a vibrant red, and Azriel just chuckled again, the sound escaping before he even registered it. "Of course," he said quietly, grinning at her. "Of course, that is what you use the lightning for."

"It works!" she protested lightly. "And here, it should be all...done," she said, her eyes jumping to his naked chest and then he watched her forcefully drag them up again.

Azriel chuckled again, a little smugly this time, enjoying the way her cheeks had flushed red when she'd seen his naked chest. She looked like she could not decide if she wanted to look at him or look away, and it was incredibly endearing.

Eira held out the jacket then, and for a moment he just stood in the doorway, staring at it.

It looked...practically the same as it had before, the only real difference being a patch near the shoulder area where a small piece of leather had been replaced.

He stared for a few seconds longer. "That...looks incredible," he said in a faintly stunned voice. "You...made it look like it was never even ripped."

Eira smiled. "It's only a jacket," she said, but Azriel could hear the pride in her voice.

"A jacket that looks like it was never even damaged," he said, stepping closer, his eyes still on the repair. It looked...perfect. If he had not seen the damage before it would have been impossible to even tell where the rip had been. "Thank you," he told her quietly. "How much do I owe you?"

"You don't-" she started, only to be interrupted by a firm look from Azriel.

"You spent time fixing something for me," he said firmly before she could argue. "I will pay you for your time."

"You are my mate," she disagreed.

"Yes, I am," he agreed easily. "That doesn't change the fact that you spent your time and effort on something for me. And you will let me pay you."

His voice was firm, and he was not going to back down. He was paying for the work she had done, and that was that.

Eira opened her mouth, clearly intending to argue, but then he raised a single eyebrow, and her mouth shut with a snap. She was not going to win this argument, and he could easily see the stubborn part of her conceding that point.

She huffed, frowning faintly in annoyance, and he smirked.

"I'm not going to lose on this one, sweetheart," he said, his voice just a little smug.

She continued to frown at him, and he just chuckled, lifting a hand and lightly brushing her cheek. She was stubborn, he would give her that. But he was just as stubborn...if not more so. He was not backing down from this, no matter how cute her frown was.

"Your shadows keep buying me things. Consider us even," she tried.

"They have their own line of credit," he disagreed.

"That's a bit concerning," she mumbled, looking away, and Azriel chuckled quietly at the expression on her face.

"Don't worry, they make me more money than they spent," he reassured her, grinning a little at her disgruntled look. "They like playing the lottery

“I know, they told me,” Eira said with a sigh. “Still.”

"They're surprisingly good at it, too," he continued her with a smirk. "They seem to know the best times to buy and sell, and they know which numbers will hit on the lotteries. I don't question it. And don't change the topic," he said quietly.

"I never thought I would be concerned over the fact that shadows gamble for a living," she said, shaking her head with a faintly amused smile. Then she huffed. "You still aren't paying me."

"Oh, I'm paying you," Azriel said easily. "Even if you don't want to take money, I will find another way." Another way....another...very Illyrian way.

"If you don't take money...will you take...material?" he asked her.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, and she tilted her head faintly. "Material?" she repeated. "What...what sort of material?"

"Two Mountain Lion Pelts," he answered honestly. "Thanks to them, I got the rips in the first place."

She paused, clearly processing the words, and Azriel could practically see the thoughts flitting through her mind.

"You got the jacket ripped...by a mountain lion..."

Her face flushed then, and he watched it happen, watching as the colour washed over her cheeks, her eyes widening.

"You..." she said and then swallowed, clearly struggling to keep her composure. "You fought mountain lions?"

"It wasn't on purpose," he said drily.

"You fought mountain lions," she repeated, her voice a little faint. "You...you actually fought mountain lions."

He could see her mind reeling, her eyes darting over him.

"You..." she said, stopping and then inhaling very deeply, clearly trying to control her erratic breathing. "How bad were you hurt?"

Azriel chuckled faintly at the horrified look in her eyes and gently reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. "I'm fine, sweetheart," he reassured her softly. "I might be a little sore for a few days, but I've already had much worse than a few swipes from mountain lions."

"Nothing but bruises," he promised her, showing her his arm that was purple and black.

She reached out, her eyes widening a little as her knuckles lightly skimmed over the bruising, his skin practically on fire as she gently traced the darkened skin with her fingers. Slowly, carefully.

She exhaled, the breath sounding just a little shaky.

And then her eyes flicked up to his, a quiet, low sound emerging low in her throat, something a little like a growl. "Were you hurt anywhere else?"

Azriel was taken by surprise at the sound of the growl. His usually very sweet, very quiet mate had...growled at him.

But the sound sparked a low heat in his stomach, and Azriel found himself grinning faintly.

"No," he told her, keeping his voice low. "Just a few scratches. Nothing major."

"Were they deep scratches? They could get infected," she said, her voice still a little breathless.

She was still so focused on his arm, her fingers skimming over the bruising lightly. So gentle and sweet, and yet there was a hard, quiet edge to her voice. Azriel could see that look in her eyes, that hint of possessive worry.

"There's no infection," he reassured her, his voice still low, still gentle as he looked down at her, his eyes taking in the expression on her face.

She was worried, that much was obvious. Deeply worried, and more than a little possessive. The possessive edge to her usually so sweet and gentle demeanour was...kind of adorable.

Yours, the shadows whispered quietly. He's yours.

He couldn't help but chuckle. He could feel the shadows, how they were so very pleased by all of this. Her worry, her possessiveness, her protectiveness.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he said quietly, watching her. "I will be sore a few days, but I've dealt with much worse."

She harrumphed. "Go put your jacket back on," she finally said.

"Now that sounded awfully commanding," he teased her, a hint of a grin on his face.

She was adorable when she was worried, and the possessive edge was just icing on top of the cake.

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤

Part 1

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!

A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭

Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot

Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.

Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.

Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.

A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.

It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.

You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.

As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.

- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.

- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.

- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.

- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?

- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?

- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.

- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.

- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.

- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?

You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.

- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.

- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-

- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.

Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.

- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.

- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.

- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.

Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.

- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.

In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.

- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.

You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…

A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.

- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.

Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:

- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.

- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…

König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.

- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?

- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.

- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.

Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.

Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.

König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.

- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?

Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?

König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:

- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.

Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.

Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.

- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.

He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.

- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.

Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.

You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.

- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?

It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:

- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.

For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.

- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.

Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.

- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.

Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.

- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.

- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:

- You’re mine. Forever and ever.

Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!

Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.

A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.

- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-

- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.

- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.

- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.

Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.

Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.

Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.

This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3

Slasher! König Masterlist

A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌

Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3

[joelalorian]

Petals of Affection - Part III

A floral mystery in three parts, featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Word count: 3,049

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, kissing, f!oral, unprotected p in v (it's 20 years into the fucking apocalypse), it's not stated, but I envision Joel having been snipped pre-outbreak, terms of endearment. POV flops around like petals in the wind. Reader has no established age or physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.

Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)

And this sweet little love story has come to an end. Thank you all for coming along for the ride! Your comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated more than I could ever say.

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

Jasmine Orchid Eustoma Lavender Magnolia Iris Lily Lilac Eucalyptus Rose

JOEL MILLER

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

Moments with you, the answer rings true.

In your eyes, the answer lies.

Lost in your beauty, the answer is a duty.

Longing for your touch, the answer means so much.

Evergreen thoughts of you, the answer is in the dew.

Remember my love for you, the answer is in you.

JOEL MILLER!

Maria’s eyes roved over your scribbled notes, a broad smile slowly spreading across her face at the underline beneath Joel’s name. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to question your intelligence, girl!”

Heat warmed your cheeks as you laughed, though you weren’t sure if it was due to embarrassment or the wine. “The answer was right in front of my face this whole time, I just couldn’t see it.”

Flopping back on the couch, you felt a bit overwhelmed. Ducking your head between your knees as you leant forward, you sucked in a few deep breaths before baring your soul to your best friend. “I wanted it to be him. I longed for it to be him. But I didn’t dare to hope that it would be him. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.” Maria’s voice held nothing but understanding. “Hope could lead to despair if not met.”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, poking your head up to meet her dark eyes. “I couldn’t handle the despair, so I couldn’t dare to hope.”

Maria settled onto the soft cushion next to you, one arm reaching out to rub your back soothingly. “You have nothing to fear now. Joel did all this, for you.” Her free hand gestured at the flowers and notes scattered across the table. “His feelings for you are so deep, so true, that he came up with this elaborate plan to show you instead of just telling you, like any normal person would.”

Pausing, Maria waited until you met her gaze again with a watery smile, wanting to make sure you understood the point she was making. Her eyes earnest and smile broad, she added, “He was afraid to hope, too. But he did and look what has come of it.”

Tears built up, threatening to spill over as you absorbed everything. Joel loved you, just as you loved him, his grand gesture proving it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He dared to hope when you didn’t and thank goodness he did. You two would still be dancing around each other for who the fuck knows how long otherwise.

You stood suddenly, feeling revived and eager to see Joel at once. “I need to see Joel. I need to tell him I feel the same way.”

“Well let’s go then! He’s probably at my house with Tommy.” Maria led the way out of your house after you both scrambled to put shoes on, marching with purpose down the quiet road under the cover of a clear, starry sky.

Despite the late hour, you needed to see Joel, to return his declaration of love now that he bared his heart and soul to you in such a clever, romantic way. Crisp air filling your lungs as you walked, you felt the effects of the wine wear off. You never felt so clear-headed, so full of promise, so full of love.

“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?” Maria asked as you neared her house. Bright lights shining through the curtains showcased the shadowy movements inside of the two men inside.

“Not a clue,” you admitted, suddenly nervous. “My brain hasn’t gotten that far yet. Fuck! What am I gonna say?”

“Well, you could always just walk in and kiss him. Just lay a big wet one right on his lips,” Maria suggested, the nearly full moon reflecting mischievously in her dark brown eyes. As your mouth dropped open, she added, “Yes! That’s exactly what you should do!”

“Well, in the absence of anything better…”

Laughter still bubbled from your bellies as you followed Maria up the front steps and into her home. Nearing sensory overload, every cell of your body vibrated with the burning need to lay eyes, hands, lips on Joel.

“Is that you, honey?” Tommy called from the living room. The two of you turned the corner into the room, and Maria made a beeline right to her husband.

Ignoring the married couple, your attention focused on the other occupant of the room. Joel sat on the couch, leant back in a relaxed pose, one arm slung across the back cushions. His thick thighs spread wide, just begging for you to step between them.

Wide and unblinking, his burnt umber eyes watched as you stepped further into the room. Head tilting quizzically, he licked his lips as you approached with an impossible slowness. Neither of you could look anywhere else, gazes locked, bodies pulling together like magnets.

Joel’s pouty lips parted in surprise when you didn’t seat yourself next to him, electing instead to climb onto his lap. He blinked owlishly at you as your face moved closer, centimeter by centimeter, until your lips met his in a delicate first kiss. However brief, that initial press of your lips against his ignited an inferno within you both. You mouths came together urgently the second time, as lips, teeth, and tongues clashed. Your fingers carded through his silky soft, thick curls, nails tenderly scratching itches on his scalp he didn’t even know he had. He preened under your touch.

So absorbed in each other after months and months of longing and pining, dancing around feelings you hid for each other, the rest of the room blurred to nonexistence. Your ears picked up soft murmuring from Maria and Tommy, but you ignored it. Your world revolved around Joel, and Joel only, at that moment. You shifted, trying in vain to bury beneath every layer of his skin, until you straddled his lap.

At long last, you pulled back as the need for oxygen became unbearable. You and Joel had been pressed so close together, noses smushed as you kissed, that neither of you could even breathe.

“I take it you figured it out.” Joel’s eyes searched your face, voice rumbling from deep in his chest, the sound like velvety chocolate to your ears.

You nodded, lost for words at first and his lips slowly tilted upwards at the corners until his smile reached its limit and the precious dimple in his cheek poked through. “The flowers and notes were so beautiful, Joel. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner, your riddles were just too good,” you grinned. Tears pricked at the back of your eyes at the look of complete adoration on his handsome face. Sincere happiness welled within you. “The notes, each one more beautiful than the last, I read them over and over. I feel all of that, too.”

Joel’s eyes took on a different shine at your confession, the fire from the hearth glinted in the sudden wetness glazing over them.

“Can I take you home?” he asked gruffly, the need evident in his glossy gaze.

“Fuck yes,” you breathed, giggling as he shifted you both to your feet and practically dragged you from his brother’s house. Neither of you had the wherewithal to say goodbye to Tommy and Maria. They watched the two of you leave with matching satisfied grins before locking up behind you.

“Yours or mine?” Joel questioned urgently as his large hand grasped yours.

“I don’t care,” you replied breathlessly, “whichever is closer.”

“Yours then.” His long legs led you down the deserted street, boots crunching on the hard ground, stopping only once you reached your front porch. He stared into your wide eyes, taking in the vision of your blown pupils and pursed lips. “Are you sure about this?”

“Joel,” you drew his name out in a long sigh, one hand caressing the scruff on his cheek. “I have never been surer of anything in my entire life. Take me inside and make love to me. Please.”

The pitch of your plea shot straight to his cock as he once again nearly dragged you behind him. Grateful that you forgot to lock the front door, there were no impediments to your journey into the house and straight up the stairs to your bedroom.

The urgency slowed once the both of you reached the center of your bedroom. Facing each other as you stood next to the large bed, Joel’s gaze tangibly seared your skin with the absolute heat of it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, one thick fingertip tracing the ridge of your brow and down the slope of your nose. His bedroom eyes captivating as he pulled at your plump bottom lip with his thumb, lips twitching when your tongue darted out to taste the salt on his skin. “I think I fell in love with you the day we met.”

“Me, too.” Mesmerized by Joel’s touch and thoughtful words, you leant forward, slanting your mouth against his. The kiss tender yet scalding hot as your hands began to slowly undress one another. Part of you could not believe this was happening, while another part of you kept repeating fucking finally.

Once you were both fully stripped of clothing, Joel eased you back onto the bed. The broadness of him hovered over you, legs entangled, and he caressed your skin with one large hand. There was no piece of you he left untouched. Your own hands were drawn to his luscious curls, fingers threading through the locks and massaging his scalp.

Joel soon replaced his hands with his mouth, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your body. He paid special attention to your breasts, pausing to lave and nip at the hardened peaks of your nipples. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth when he settled his face between your legs, darting his tongue out to taste your sweetness.

He feasted on you like a starving man, tongue laving at your clit before dipping inside to slurp at your juices. You were so wet for him. Only him. His mouth a form of heaven you didn’t know existed, you mewled and squirmed, muscles twitching as he drew you closer and closer to the cliff’s edge.

“Fuck, you are so good at this, Joel.” The half-moaned words fell from your lips when he slipped a thick finger inside you, quickly followed by another. His mouth continued to work at your clit, licking and sucking as you writhed beneath his ministrations.

A man possessed; Joel drew two orgasms from you before letting up. Easing back, he grinned at you, his facial hair glossy with your juices. “You taste fucking delicious. I could stay down here all night.”

A dewy sheen of sweat covered your entire body from being worked over so well. “Any other time, I wouldn’t stop you. But I want your cock inside me, right now.”

“Is that so?” Joel smirked at you, climbing up your body to settle his hips between your legs. Of their own accord, your hands soothed over the warm skin of his back and down to his ass, where you grabbed handfuls of the meaty flesh.

“Fuck, yes. Please, I need you.”

His eyes sparkled at your plea, but he didn’t move an inch. Your right hand reached between the two of you, grasping hold of his cock and gasping at the sheer size of him. Long and thick in your hand, your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him sometime. Joel grinned again, his expression quickly going slack as you tugged once, twice at his hardened length, running the head between your folds before lining him up with your entrance.

Dark eyes hooded with lust; Joel met your gaze. “You want this?” he questioned one last time, needing confirmation of your consent. The last thing he’d ever want to do is push you too far, too fast. He wanted this to last forever.

“Joel, I promise. I have never wanted someone more than I want you, and only you, right now.” You poured every emotion, every feeling for Joel through your eyes as you pulled him impossibly closer. Angling your hips up, he finally started feeding you his cock, inch by delectable inch. Your mouth dropped open at the stretch when he bottomed out.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty girl.” Joel began to move his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, his arms bracketing your head.

“Ahhh, I’ve never felt so full before. Please don’t stop.”

Soon enough, the only sounds in the room were the gentle slap of skin against skin, your breathy moans, and Joel’s rumbling grunts. Joel kissed you passionately as he fucked into you with deep thrusts, his eyes remaining locked on yours.

Your orgasm built as his cock grazed that perfect spot inside you with each thrust, and the words you’d been too afraid to admit to finally fell from your lips. “I love you, Joel. I love every single piece of the puzzle that you are.”

“And I love you, my angel,” Joel replied, voice gravelly. His hips snapped harder, throwing you both over the cliff. His deep moans were music to your ears as you pulsed around him, drawing every drop of cum from him until he settled heavily half atop you, breathless and sated.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” you blurted, chest heaving, drawing a chuckle from Joel.

“Imma need some time before I can do that again, angel. I’m not a young stud anymore.”

For the first time in many months, you fell asleep in your bed, the vastness of it decreased by Joel’s warm body cuddled up against you.

“You have everything you need, brother?” Tommy asked, helping Joel load up the saddlebags. “Maria tucked a bottle of wine and some glasses in here for you.”

Doublechecking the supplies, Joel nodded. “I think that’s all of it. Thank your wife for me. None of this would be happening right now without you, Maria, and Ellie.”

Tommy patted his older brother on the shoulder. “Being in love has really softened your edges. I actually like this version of you.”

Joel scowled back at Tommy’s teasing for a moment before his face transformed into a glowing, warm smile at the sight of you. Backpack slung over one shoulder, you wore fitted jeans, a tee shirt, and boots with Joel’s green flannel tied around your waist. To Joel, you’d never looked sexier.

“Hi boys,” you greeted, eyes lingering on the older Miller brother as he winked at you. Turning to Tommy, you batted your eye lashes. “Any chance you’ll tell me where he’s taking me?”

Tommy guffawed. “Not a chance in hell, doll. I don’t wanna get my ass kicked by this lug.”

Oh well, you had to try. Shrugging your shoulders, you climbed up into the saddle of a light brown colored horse. “Fine then. You better make sure my greenhouses are still in one piece when we get back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Off you go lovebirds.” Tommy patted your horse’s hind quarter once Joel mounted his horse and led the way through the town gate.

The horses settled into a canter, covering the landscape at a good clip. “It’s a couple hours ride, but I promise you’ll love it, angel.”

“I trust you, Joel,” you replied, lips pressed into a small smile. “I’m just happy to spend time with you.”

The pair of you chatted about anything and everything as you rode, sharing stories about your pre-outbreak past and the struggles faced since. You already knew about Sarah and how hard Joel took the loss of his beloved baby girl, but Joel felt comfortable sharing more stories of her with you. The conversations were interspersed with occasional comfortable silences as you took in the landscape and kept an eye out for trouble. The hours and miles passed in no time and Joel led you to a stop in front of a rusted-over fence. Dismounting the horse, you swiped a hand over a warped sign which indicated the property was a botanical garden in its former life.

“Joel,” you breathed, touched that he thought of taking you to such a place for your first official date. You had no idea it even existed.

“It’s rundown, obviously, but nature has completely taken over in a way that I think you’ll love. There were flowers everywhere when I first discovered the place. This is where I found some of the ones I gave you,” he explained. Pulling a section of fence open, he led you and the horses onto the property before closing it behind you.

“Tommy and I cleared the placed a while ago, but there may still be some cordyceps lingering around. Keep an eye out.” Joel handed you a pistol, checking first to make sure it was locked and loaded, and swung the rifle from his shoulder.

The grounds were quiet except for birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Plentiful flora grew in every direction you turned, overtaking dilapidated benches and buildings alike. The grounds were a vibrant sea of colorful flowers and plants, and a mix of floral fragrances nearly overwhelmed your senses. Joel led the horses into a small area cordoned off on three sides, leaving them to graze while the two of you explored.

Joel reached for your hand, entwining your fingers as you walked the grounds. Even overgrown and unkempt as it was, the garden left you in awe. You strolled, recounting information about every flower you recognized. Joel listened, enraptured, as you spoke about their meanings, falling in love with you even more with every brilliant word that came out of your mouth.

He surprised you with a late lunch in a field of wildflowers on the way back to Jackson, gathering a small bouquet in his hands while you ate. Joel tucked a bright yellow flower with long, thin petals into your hair before handing over the bouquet.

“When you’re ready, I’m going to ask you to marry me, my beautiful wildflower.”

fin

[kanmom51]

Moment of clarity (?)

Just sitting here watching Jikook song edits, cause I'm missing the hell out of those two, and couldn't help but think how stupid and futile all the accusations and claims and ensuing discussions about one's reaction to the other, or one's behaviour to the other or any kind of interaction they had that didn't suit what fans (usually solos on either side of the picture) expected of them. You know what I mean. All those judgy claims and comments about how JK reacts or treats JM and vise versa, same about JM 'forcing' himself on JK or the likes of that.

How dumb those people look (and should feel as well if they only had a sliver of common sense) right now.

Inserting themselves into a relationship (whatever form it may have had) to know what these two people were all about, their interactions, their reactions towards each other, without truly knowing them, without seeing anything but a few recorded seconds (all while ignoring not only many other recorded moments but also what they themselves say about each other and to each other).

But you see, this isn't something new to me, and I did address it when answering mostly annoying asks (something I haven't been doing for some time now seeing just how futile it is - you cannot convince the inconvincible).

No.

The reason I had this specific moment of clarity while watching them was because things have changed.

Well, changed since those two have made it as clear as can be that they want and need each other's proximity.

That they will do whatever it takes to not only enlist at the same time, but to do so together. To spend their entire service together. 24/7. Together. Knowing EXACTLY what and how it looks like. Knowing EXACTLY what people (so many of them) will think, even if some will not say it out loud or spell it out. No other member did this with another, and neither of them did it with any other member, how ever close we know them to be. Because no one is closer to them than they are to each other!!

And why don't we add to that, them going on a trip together just before enlistment, to Japan, you know, that same destination they went to back in November 2017. The same trip they both could not stop telling us about.

Yeah, I know there's a travel show coming (which we have no clue what will look like - if vlog-like or actual Bon Voyage style or something in between), and most of what they do could be explained away (and that's the point, they are clever that way), but let's be real here for a sec. The show, it's a very clever way to kill two birds with one stone. Literally. Getting to travel together before enlistment (I can assure you that 90% of what they got up to we will not be seeing, and they travelled first and utmost because they wanted to travel and do it together, and anyone who claims otherwise, that this was forced in some way on one or both of them is an idiot, well they probably also believe that they enlisted together against their wills) all while under the guise of doing it for work, and at the same time creating content to be released while they are away. It's a win win, or like I said, two birds one stone.

So yeah, their travelling will be in a show, but they travelled together because they wanted to travel together and not because there was content to be made. Content being the bi product of their genius idea of guising their trip as work...

Bottom line, point I wanted to make here with all of this is that those dissecting every single moment between them miss the whole picture. It's not about this moment or another. It's about what they bring together as a big picture, one that they have been telling us and showing us for years now. And if we didn't see or hear it before, well they made sure we would now.

Because being together during these 18 months was more important to them than hiding who they are and what they mean to each other.

Fuck the consequences (and fuck the haters too - JM literally said it in SMF pt. 2)...

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Can you do axl rose and slash too (safe words)

A/n: I will never get over Slash's obsession with tits. I also cannot explain how much I love the thought of him just using anyone as a pillow because I know he's prone to falling asleep wherever he can

Please someone request something for Slash, I love him too much rn :'3

Warnings: Smut, angst, use of safe words (There's technically no use of a safe word in Slash's but it's kind of implied? There's a boundary that's definitely crossed), bondage, smoking (Slash attempts to burn reader with his cigarette), oral sex (male receiving), if there's anything you think I missed please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Axl was an interesting man, for sure. You’d met at a club and after just a few weeks of seeing each other he asked if he could move in. He explained that his band was just getting going and he didn’t have a place other than a storage unit on Gardner that his band used as a house/party room/practice place, knowing that you were much more open to letting him crash with you.

Things were going fine between you two. You’d wake up and make breakfast, not because of any other reason than Axl wasn’t awake until about noon on most days, which you didn’t mind either because it meant you got to see him so peaceful and calm.

Fast forward to now. You’d fallen asleep with Axl beside you. He’d been whining all day about one thing or another, obviously trying to get something but he was too stubborn to say what it was and nothing he did gave you a clue either.

In the middle of the night you woke up to some strange noises and an odd feeling. The room was completely dark because something was covering your eyes, you tried to move it but found that your arms were tied, your legs too.

“Axl?” You called in an attempt to find out what was going on and whether you should start worrying or not.

“What is it?” Axl’s familiar deep voice answered, sounding somewhat distant.

“What are you doing?” You asked, trying to move again to no avail. You felt a weight on the bed, signalling that Axl had gotten on the mattress and was sitting beside you. He ran his hand over your bare stomach, you preferred sleeping in just your underwear and Axl was in no way opposed to that. Now you were rethinking that idea.

“Having some fun, don’t worry about it.” Usually that deep voice of his was nice, it could calm you or bring that familiar warmth to the pit in your stomach. Now it just scared you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t move, you were fully at his mercy.

“I am. Axl, I am worried about it.” You stated, struggling against the restraints again. “Axl, I’m serious.” Axl got on top of you, your legs were already spread thanks to what you assume to be rope around your ankles.

“Shut up and be good for me, will you? That’s what you’re good for.” He hooked your legs over his, from what you could feel he’d already stripped himself down to nothing.

“Axl, we could do something if you’d just get me out of this.” You told him. The ginger lined himself up with you and pushed in despite your complaints. The feeling reminded you of many times before, this isn’t the first time Axl’s ever woken you up for sex but it was the most worrying time. Usually it would just be him fucking your thighs, or he’d just outright wake you up and tell you he was horny. Never had he even mentioned that this was something he’d be into. It certainly wasn’t something you were into, not right now at the very least.

“Fuck, always so tight for me.” The ginger groaned as he rocked his hips into you. “My perfect little slut.” He held your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together and opening your mouth. You weren’t sure what he was doing until you heard a ‘patoo’, then you felt this cold liquid on your tongue. He spat in your mouth.

You violently thrashed against him and the restraints. “Get me the fuck out of this you fucking bitch!” You screamed. Axl quickly took the cloth covering your eyes off and tossed it away.

“Jesus Christ, better now?” He groaned. You glared up at him as you tried to think of anything that could get him to stop.

“Pumpkin!” You yelled. Something flicked in him, you could see it in his eyes even in the dark room. He wasn’t looking at you with lust or hatred, that line you were never really sure if he crossed whenever things got hot between you two. There was a disappointment in his eyes. Not in you but himself.

Axl pulled out and got the ropes taken off of you. He pulled on a pair of pants and found you one of his shirts for you to put on before he left the room.

You threw the shirt on and went out to find him.

Axl was on the couch, rocking himself slightly. His head was down and he was staring at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with you.

You went over to him and sat beside him on the couch. You leaned your head on his shoulder and put a hand on his back, gently rubbing it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He blurted, still not looking at you.

“Didn’t mean to do what?” You asked in a soft voice.

“I-I don’t even know...” He said, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. You reached for them and held them in your own. “I just... I thought it would be fun.” You nodded in understanding.

“It wasn’t.” He rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, I got that.” Finally he looked up at you. For a moment he just looked at you, then he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing your forehead and cheek and nose, pretty much anywhere he could reach in this hold. “I’m sorry I made you say that.”

“You could’ve just said something earlier.” You mumbled, looking at his face and just taking in his features.

“I know.” He let out a heavy sigh. “So,” he started, “wanna give me a blow job?” He asked with a smile. You swatted the back of his head and stood up, walking back to the room. Axl followed and wrapped his arms around you.

Your boyfriend was touring and after months of dating but not going on the road with him you finally got the chance to actually come with him.

The separation was not the ideal circumstance for either of you and you called all the time, every day and night you’d be getting calls from him asking how you’ve been. At night the calls usually took a turn to more sexual areas, you were alone and needy and so was he.

The crew going with Guns was the real issue, they wanted to save as much money as possible, even if it wasn’t necessary. That meant that you wouldn’t be getting a free pass on the plane with the band. Slash had offered to pay for your ticket but you refused because you didn’t know when you’d be able to pay him back. But all of that was behind you now and you were finally on the road with the band.

It was right before one of their headlining shows and Slash was backstage with you in his dressing room. You were on the couch and he asked if you’d give him a blow job before he went on. You didn’t want to at first because you didn’t think you’d have time but Slash promised you would, and so you did.

You were on your knees sucking him off, you could tell he was enjoying it by the faces he was making. You knew if you really wanted to you could make him a whining little mess but you were focused on speed right now.

While you were busy bobbing your head on his length he got a cigarette out and lit it. Nothing out of the ordinary, Slash was a known chainsmoker. You watched his euphoric expression and the way his head fell back as smoke drifted past his lips and into the air.

Then he looked back down at you with this expression that you just couldn’t place. He had this smirk as he looked down at you. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He asked, not expecting an answer while your mouth was full of him. You caught his gaze wandering to the cigarette between his fingers. “Think I could make you hotter?” You raised a brow at him.

“What?” You asked as you pulled back. The exact moment you did so Slash tapped off the end of his cigarette where you would’ve been had you not moved. You stared up at him wide eyed with fear and anger.

He seemed to have realised his mistake as soon as he made it because he stared back at you with those same wide eyes, except his were of worry. You didn’t say anything else, you just got up and left the room.

You stayed to watch the show, the band still put on a great performance and you didn’t want to miss it, but you didn’t stick around afterward like you normally would. Instead you took a taxi back to the hotel you were staying at.

Slash came home later, much later. You had fallen asleep already by the time he got back. He saw you crashed on the bed with the TV on. You were laying over the covers and still had your clothes on so he figured you’d passed out while watching a movie or something.

He went to his suitcase and found a shirt to get you into. He undressed you and tried his best to keep you asleep but you fell asleep while he was struggling with your pants. “What are you doing?” You mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Slash froze. He slowly looked up at you.

“I was trying to get you into something comfier.” He explained his usual soft yet raspy voice.

“Oh...” You mumbled and just let him continue. He eventually got your pants and shirt off, he took your bra off per your request because it was not comfortable to sleep in. He offered to let you wear a pair of his shorts as well instead of the pretty lace you had on. Of course you accepted the offer and Slash helped you get his clothes on. They didn’t fit you but for sleep they were perfect.

You got under the covers while Slash turned the lights off, though he kept the TV on for background noise. He got under the covers with you and rested his head on your chest. “I won’t do that again.” He mumbled. You were barely conscious yourself at this point so you just nodded with a hum. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know.” You mumbled back. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He gave a small kiss to your collarbone.

“If you ever do anything like that again you’re sleeping with Axl.” You threatened. Slash grumbled and after a small pause he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t really, would you?” You could tell there was some genuine concern.

“Do you really want to find out?” Slash stared at you for a moment longer before going back to nuzzling your tits.

[lilyswrittenworks]

(RoTB) Optimus Prime Headcanon

I wanted to give in to my self-indulgence towards a certain Prime cause--YES (I’m currently simping for this man and I ADORE HIM with every fiber of my being.) 

Confessions

Warnings: slight angst, heartwarming fluffy moments

It started out as a harmless crush towards the Autobot leader, until it gradually escalated into something more. You never intended to grow so attached and it scared you.

So, you made the painful decision to admire him from a distance and your visits to the warehouse became less frequent.

Your absence didn’t go unnoticed, however.

When you didn’t show up for the fifth day in a row, Optimus was the first one to inquire about your whereabouts to his fellow Autobots. None of them had the slightest clue why…except for Mirage.

He knew you had a thing for the big man, which he totally used this knowledge to tease you.

Whatever you were trying to do, it was clearly affecting his leader.

Optimus would stand just by the entrance of the warehouse patiently waiting for your arrival, and when you don’t—well, Mirage has never seen him look so crestfallen. Yet, he still waited for you hoping that you would come by.

Mirage has never seen him so… lost without you.

And on the tenth day seeing Optimus in his usual spot and you not showing up was when Mirage decided that enough was enough.

He tried getting ahold of you from the landline number that Noah provided him with only for it to ring three times before it sent him straight to voicemail.

Mirage transformed and made a beeline to your apartment.

When he arrived into an alley that was just outside your apartment window. Making sure no other humans were around before transforming and peering inside your bedroom window.

Seeing you lying in bed with a book in your hand really upset him as he furiously tapped the window, doing his damn best not to break it.

You scrambled out of bed, opening the window to see a not so happy-looking Mirage.

Mirage didn’t allow you to speak as he began to reprimand you.

“You better stop whatever you're doing–no, don’t,” He points his finger towards you when attempting to speak. “Don’t try to lie to me Y/n. I know what you're doing and it’s doing more harm than good, you hear me? Prime is always waiting for you. Every. Single. Day. Dammit! Do you have any idea how much this is hurting him?”

Your heart stung at the realization.

“You might not realize it, but Prime genuinely loves you. I can see it in the way he looks at you. And it hurts me seeing you two hurting each other when instead you guys should be talking it out!”

He was right.

Fuck. You made a terrible mistake.

Your heart yearned for his presence since you distanced yourself from Optimus. Oh how your feelings from him only grew the longer you stayed away. You missed the sound of his deep baritone voice calling your name, his gentle touch when he picks you up, and those beautiful bright blue optics of his that held so much emotion to his otherwise stern and authorities demeanor.

With this newfound determination, you didn’t think twice as you climbed out of your window. Mirage wasted no time in scooping you up–transforming before speeding off to the warehouse.

Mirage arrived at the nick of time just as Optimus was walking away. He swerved to a halt, opening the drivers side door open propelling you out. You almost tripped over your feet but the adrenaline keeps you upright running towards him.

“OPTIMUS!”

The sound of your voice made him stop abruptly, turning around with wide eyes to see you running towards him, closing the distance fast. He knelt down on one knee already reaching out to you. Once you were within his reach he scooped you up, bringing you close to his chassis. You threw your arms to hug his face, feeling his hand adjust so that you were in a more comfortable position. Those simple little gestures was all it took to crumble whatever composure you had.

You were a mess. Sobbing into his cheek and hiccuping out apologies.

“It’s my fault. I-I shouldn’t have stayed away. I hurt you–I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

You weren’t sure when it started but you began to hyperventilate.

Optimus leaned into you, pressing his metal lips on the crook of your neck where he spoke under his breath to you in Cybertronian. 

You obviously couldn’t understand what he was saying. The soothing rumble of his voice and the warmth of his breath that left goosebumps on your skin. It had a calming effect on you and your breathing slowed back into a normal rhythm. Your focus was on his mechanical breathing—inhaling and exhaling. 

You pressed your cheek against his cheek, “I’m sorry I hurt you, Optimus. I wouldn’t blame you if you were upset with me.”

His hold on you tightened, his baritone a whisper that sent chills down your spine. “I would never. It made me realize how much I took your company for granted. Without you, there is a void that cannot be filled if you aren’t a part of my life.”

A sudden warmth spread throughout your chest at his words, a soft hum escaping your lips. “If you let me, can you be a part of mine?”

You could feel him smiling into the crook of your neck. “Of course,” He presses a gentle kiss into your shoulder, the metal surprisingly warm to the touch. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Mirage didn’t mean to watch, but he couldn’t resist himself.

In the end, he made the right call in dragging you out of your apartment.

[homestuckreplay]

Do you remember when tumblr was overrun by kids in grey body paint and horns speculating over how their story would end, when browser extensions would ping almost every day alerting people to a webcomic update, when the anticipation of the next plot twist had people inventing chaotic AUs and sometimes other, completely fake webcomics?

Do you want to do it again?

On April 13, 2024, I will turn on New Reader Mode in the Unofficial Homestuck Collection, and I will not turn it off again until April 13, 2031. Every day, I will post to this blog which pages were originally posted on the corresponding day 15 years ago, and read those associated pages - and if anyone else wants to experience or re-experience Homestuck in real time, I invite you to read along.

A few months back I had the idea of 'what if Dracula Daily but for Homestuck' and I considered how to make Homestuck work in email format - I think it's possible, but would be a lot of work and still wouldn't be as good a reading experience as the Unofficial Collection. So I modified the idea and just made a big spreadsheet of which dates every Homestuck page was posted on, and I'll be scheduling the page ranges to post day by day for myself and anyone else to follow along with in the app.

I came to Homestuck towards the end of its original run, so I've never had to wait for updates on the main comic - which I've heard is a very different reading experience to getting a few pages a day and having to endure long pauses in the last few thousand pages. I can't turn back time and start reading in 2009, so this is the next best way to get the real time reading experience. I am really interested to see if this will change my opinion on any aspects of the comic, as I like a lot of the things I know other fans hate, and I am extremely committed to seeing this through, even when it means not looking at some incredible moments for many years.

Will this be a good way to experience Homestuck? Will anyone else think this is a cool idea? I have no fucking clue, but ai'm excited to see how it works out. If other people are interested, I have other ideas including a Discord server in the style of r/stuck10yearsbehind, otherwise, I'll brave the solo journey.

Happy Cascade Day, Homestucks grab your strife specibi, go forth and be cringe 😎

[meo-on-prairie]

Keep it Lowkey

Sukuna x Reader

Prompt: “Be as quiet as you can ‘cause if anyone sees they’ll just blow shit up” - Lowkey by NIKI

Words count: 1.1k

Tags: bodyguard!sukuna x Popstar!reader, fluff, coworkers to lovers (????), just pure indulgence, pure fluff

Rambling: it’s a little fluffy Sukuna fic inspired by “lowkey”-NIKI. Full fantasizing. I’m writing while I still have the time lmao. If i was in this situation, my brain would become mush.

Note to self: get a new bodyguard. You mentally note as you stare at Sukuna, your current bodyguard, in all his glory. You have to fire him. He’s not bad at this job by any means. On the contrary, he’s excellent at his job. With his nearly 7ft build, his… well trained body, and his tattoos, he looks very intimidating. Ever since your team hired him, you have encountered much much less crazy fans, in fact you feel safe enough to post pictures while on vacations instead of having to wait until you’re back at home to post them. But lately, he has been a distraction to your work.

You didn’t pay much attention to Sukuna when your security team first introduced him to you. You were too busy prepping for your performance at a music festival. You just greeted him quickly, thanked him for joining the team, and hurried on stage. Sukuna has been working for you for about 2 years now, and you hate it. You hate it because you’re pinning after your bodyguard. And the smug fucker knows it.

The way he smirks at you when he shields you from the flashing light of cameras. The way his hand casually grazes your back and hip, lingering a little longer than he should but not long enough to be noticeable. The way he leans in a little too close to whisper in your ears about potential danger in a large crowd. This fucker know how his actions make you blushing and knees weak. He knows and he’s teasing you. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Sukuna teases, snapping you out of your train of thoughts.

“Why would I need to take a picture of someone I've been seeing everyday for 2 years? I’m tired of seeing your face.” you reply nonchalantly, redirecting your focus on the notebook in your lap. You’re currently in the artist lounge, alone with Sukuna. The music show won’t start for another 3 hours, but you like to be early. You’re waiting on your makeup artist as you work on writing another song for your album, but it’s looking hopeless ‘cause you have no clue what to write.

“The way you’ve been staring at me says otherwise, Little Star.” Sukuna pressed on with a smirk. 

“Please, do tell, how have I been staring at you?” You said sarcastically. Closing your notebook, you ain’t getting anything done with Sukuna in the same room as you. You get up to pour yourself a glass of wine that the music show provides to its VIP artists. 

“Like you’re mentally undressing me in your head. I’m surprised none of your fans or paparazzi notice it.” He shrugged. Sukuna eyes your form as you pour your wine. You look good enough to devour, he thinks. The sparkly, skimpy outfit leaves little for the imagination.

“Because I’m a professional, Sukuna.” you side-eyes him, sipping on your wine. 

“Oh, so you do undress me with your eyes” Sukuna is full on smirking now. You fucked up. 

As your mind races to find a good response to his remark, you feel a pair of arms snaking around your waist. You look up to see Sukuna towering over you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This isn’t good, your heart is beating too loud, you feel like even he can hear it. Your mind is turning white. You want to run away right this second. You feel like a mouse being trapped under a tiger’s paw.

“Come on, Little Star. You could’ve been more honest with yourself… With me…” His voice dropped to a low volume, you can feel the rumbling of his chest, he leaned down to whisper into your ear. “Come on now, what do you want?”

His breath fanned your ears and your brain short circuit. This isn’t good. This is down right dangerous. You can feel your self restraint slipping. “Whatever deity above, whoever you are, give me power.”. Clearly whatever deity above is not on your side because you can’t take your eyes off the way his collarbone look at this angle. Now that he’s leaning down to your height, you are finally able to see the way the muscles on his shoulder flex with his arm on your hip. His tone biceps. And oh god, his chest, they look so incredibly⸻

“Come on, Little Star, tell me.”

You feel his lip nibbling on your ear. You’re done for. 

“Y-y-you. I want you.” you are barely able to choke out. There is no turning back now.

“That’s more like it.” Sukuna breathes out right before he presses his lips against yours. 

You melt into him as soon as your lips make contact with his. Your knees finally give out under you, if not for his hands that were on your waist, you would be on the ground. He holds you up and against his body and you wrap your legs around his torso. His hand moves from your waist to your thigh so he can hold you up better. 

Your hand slides from shoulders to his nape to the back of his head, tugging on his hair as you kiss him back. He kisses you like your lips are the sweetest nectar and he’s a starved man.  Hungrily, ferociously, desperately. His hand glides from your thigh to your ass, slipping under your skimpy stage outfit. If Sukuna could have it his way, he would tear the outfit off of you right then and there. But that could wait till after the music show.

You don’t know how long you were kissing him. It felt like time stopped. The world stopped. There is no one else but him, nothing else but his kiss. So this is what you've been denying yourself of for so long. Sukuna was right, you should’ve been more honest. You hate that he's right.

A knock on the door, snap you both out of the haze. Your makeup artist. You forgot that you were waiting for her. In fact, you forgot you were at a music show and is about to go on stage. The thing this man does to you. He’s dangerous. 

“We’ll continue this later. I’ll let you undress me with your hands this time.” He said with a smirk as blood rushed to your cheeks and ears, tinting them red. 

Sukuna leans down to give you a quick peck on your forehead before turning around to open the door for your makeup artist. 

Maybe you don’t need to fire him after all. You’ll have to keep your relationship a secret though, if you want to keep your fan base. It’s not easy being famous. Fortunately, like you said, you’re a professional.

[ceruleanwhore]

I know it's been a minute since Hazbin dropped and I'm late to the hate train but I have things I want to say, so I shall.

First off, the whole thing makes absolutely no fucking sense, conceptually. There is really no good way to execute this batshit idea of Lucifer having a daughter and that daughter deciding to start a fucking hotel in Hell to redeem sinners so they can go to Heaven. Also, the culling shit with the angels showing up to just kill already dead souls for no reason also makes no sense and there really isn't any way to make it make sense.

Secondly, when making yet another piece of media inspired by Christian canon, even if it is Christianity and you hate the religion, you absolutely have to know the source material before you go fucking with it. That's why, for example, Dogma is such a good movie but this series falls flat even though both are comedic critiques of Christianity - Dogma understands the subject well enough to criticize it intelligently whereas Hazbin feels like it was conceptualized and made by someone who only watched like two episodes of Veggie Tales and otherwise knows jack shit about the religion. Throwing Lilith in there is worse because she isn't even in Christianity and it has the same vibes as when CCD classes host a Passover Seder by and for a bunch of gentiles to 'teach' about what Jesus was up to when he was around. It's just so disrespectful. Actually, that's what it is - the creators learned everything they know about Christianity, Heaven, and Hell from Tumblr posts which is definitely why she's in there.

If they knew more about the thing they're trying to make a whole ass show about, Adam and Eve wouldn't have been angels, there would be no hotel because you could just have the creation of Purgatory instead or, at the very least, some take on the harrowing of Hell and salvation of the virtuous pagans in Limbo. Also, even if you don't want to touch the Bible because it's icky (and I mean yeah), all you had to do was read like Dante's Inferno and peep the Ars Goetia and then actually make a structured Hell with a hierarchy and everything. I think kinda like what Rachel Smythe did with the worldbuilding in Lore Olympus, they wanted to modernize Hell for some reason, so the turf war/mafia type shit was supposed to replace a stronger hierarchy of Hell with princes and dukes and presidents and such, but I fucking hate it and there's no goddamn structure.

More importantly, the worldbuilding of Hell itself completely misses the fucking point of Hell as a thing. Hell is there both to contain Satan and the fallen angels who joined him in that uprising thing that one time and also to serve as a place where sinners go when they die and are punished for their sins. We never see even once any sort of actual system for sorting all these souls and punishing them for their sins. On the contrary, characters like Angel Dust appear to get to do drugs for the rest of their immortal lives and, since they're dead, it's not like those are going to kill them so it really doesn't read like a punishment. The closest we get to actual punishments are when the sinners/demons have gone and made deals that give other residents of Hell control over them, like how Husk is under Alastor's control and then Alastor apparently also has some kind of deal screwing him over, and Angel's situation with shitty boa dude is pretty similar too. It feels like they did the extermination shit to replace punishment in Hell along with these deals we see here and there, which is utterly fucking ridiculous and makes absolutely no sense.

The other thing I'd add kind of going off that is that Heaven in this series also makes literally no fucking sense. It's actually also the biggest issue I have with Good Omens that it makes NO SENSE for the angels to have no clue what God's plan is or, in this case, how souls even get into Heaven. The whole fucking point is that there's an entire, nicely structured hierarchy for exactly this. Seraphim, cherubim, and thrones are all closest to God, so they can get the info from Them and pass it to the lower ranks. Hell, this could even be how you get problems, like you make it a bit of a gimmick that Heaven runs on a massive game of telephone. It also could've been a way to have some really cool variety in character design, so maybe some of the higher ranking angels look like the weird biblical shit with all the eyes and fire and they get progressively more normal as you go down the hierarchy. Instead, they picked like three recognizable names, made them into pretty people with wings and potentially also stupid Homestuck looking masks, and threw them in our face while just refusing to actually bother with worldbuilding or character design.

That brings me to the third thing which is that, when doing a series like this based on something like Christianity, you really have to sit down and figure out what kind of God your Christian God in your series is going to be, even if They never show up on screen. Is this God distant and neglectful and that's how all this shit is happening? Or do we have the wrathful God of the Israelites who regularly exterminates Hell out of pure sadistic rage? Or do we have a weak God on the verge of death who is barely present out of necessity while the angels take advantage of that absence and run amok? And it's not even just that determining what kind of God is supposed to be the God of this series would inform why stuff happens like it does, it would also help the writers to have a sense of direction and motive for what happens.

The writing in the show is all over the fucking place and figuring out what kind of God this God is meant to be is the very first question they should've asked themselves and it would've prevented most of the problems that currently exist in the show. If we had that, then maybe we wouldn't have weird shit with Lucifer where he very much does not feel like he's the devil at all and also Charlie is supposed to have daddy issues but then he shows up and is just a really adoring and supportive dad so that doesn't make sense. If we had that, then maybe Hell would have a fucking structure because we would actually have the motive behind Hell itself and why it exists. If we had that, then maybe we could get into the nitty gritty of the ethical/theological complexities of Hell and how, no matter how you slice it, it's really God's will at the end of the day so we could get a whole debate over if Lucifer is even evil or if God is just controlling and sadistic and all that. If we had that then maybe we could even have some reveal about how sin isn't even a concrete thing and the true nature of Hell is that it's a place people choose to go when they die because they don't feel worthy of salvation and they feel in their soul that they need to be punished. Anything, really.

Fourth is that it really, really shouldn't be a musical series. The pacing fucking sucks and they overexplain everything and I just feel like if you took all the time spent on shitty musical numbers and instead put it into showing, not telling, and also developing characters and relationships, it could be a lot better. If there was more time for shit, then maybe Charlie could not be a Mary Sue and Vaggie could have a personality and Angel could be an actual fucking character that isn't just an animated twink with trauma who gets off on violating people's boundaries. Also, I just really didn't like most of the songs in the series (outside the series they're fine) and I skipped a lot of those scenes.

Fifth and final is that it really just wasn't funny. A lot of the stuff that was supposed to be funny was just excessive swearing that felt completely unnatural, like that tiktok going around of that girl saying the n word. If you're bothering to do a whole series set in Hell that's ostensibly about Christianity, then why tf aren't you leaning more into biting criticism of Christianity for your humor? If they'd just gone full Dogma with this, it would've been so much better but no.

So yeah, it fucking sucked and so did the character design.

[thatharringrovehoe]

I love 'stuck in a time loop' fics where the characters slowly fall in love with each other. But right now I'm thinking of Steve rushing downstairs wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and his left sock while someone pounds on his front door in the middle of the night. When he opens it, there stands none other than Billy Hargrove, sweaty and exhausted.

And carrying an axe.

Steve tries to close the door but Billy's already jammed his boot up against it, holding it open. Billy's voice is a croak in the otherwise eerily silent night.

"The first pet you ever had was a cat named Sampson. You found him in the alley behind Melvald's and hid him in your room for six weeks before your mom found out and gave him away while you were at school. You were eight."

Steve is sure there's smoke billowing out of his ears from how hard the gears are turning in his brain. But try as he might, he has absolutely zero fucking clue what to do with this information. Somewhere in the house an antique clock strikes midnight.

Billy flinches, grip creaking around the axe propped up on his shoulder.

Steve chooses his next words very carefully.

"While I'm really glad you and Tommy are swapping childhood stories about me, it's getting late-"

"-And you have a shift in the morning. Yeah. I know. I also know that in the past one hundred and fifteen days you've never once even made it till morning. So I'm here to keep you from becoming monster chow and then maybe my fucking life can go back to normal"

Billy's shouting by the end. Steve's heart thunders in his chest.

you've never once even made it till morning

monster chow

The image of a demon falling out of the Byer's ceiling in a cloud of plaster and rot bubbles up with a growing panic. Billy's tapping his fingers anxiously around the handle of his axe, eyes darting to the side every now and again like he expects something to be there. Steve swallows down a hysterical laugh with the thought that the best case scenario right now is Hargrove took some type of hallucinogenic drug and drove to Steve's house in the middle of the night with a weapon.

The worst case scenario...

An owl hoots in the darkness and Steve feels like he might vomit with the surge of adrenaline. A stray breeze rustles the branches of the forest around them.

What if it's a prank?

God please let it be a prank

"All my friends knew about Sampson. Hell, the lunch lady knew about him."

Billy's jaw tics. "Look, I'm trying to keep us both alive so would you just shut up and let me in? The last place I wanna die is bumfuck Indiana."

He moves to shoulder past but Steve doesn't let him through. From this close Steve could count all the freckles on Billy's nose, air tense as a piano wire. Billy stares back, gaze wild.

Desperate

And one hundred days is a long time to get to know a person.

"I'll let you in. But-!" Steve's hand shoots up to press back against Billy's chest as he attempts to shove past him. His heart beats like a hummingbird under Steve's palm. "You have to make me believe you."

Billy breathes a harsh sigh through his nose, leveling a glare at Steve. The axe thankfully does not lodge itself into any part of Steve's person. For now.

"What do you want from me Steve?"

A coyote howls in the distance. Guttural and wrong. Chills erupt down Steve's spine.

"Tell me something I've never told anyone. Something only I would know."

An expression Steve can't parse flashes across Billy's face. Whatever it is it looks painful. Sad, but not for himself. There's more rustling out in the woods. This time without a breeze.

"You're adopted"

It's like a punch to the sternum.

Steve lets him in.

.

[dissociacrip]

hey s/o to chronically ill or otherwise physically disabled people who are mostly, entirely undiagnosed, or otherwise have undiagnosed body problems that have yet to be explained.

especially if your symptoms are scary and confusing and weird enough to both you (and perhaps also to medical practitioners) that you have no idea what's really going on with you so that you can't even self-dx or make a solid guess at it.

especially if you keep getting expensive and non-routine medical testing/exams that seems like it's supposed to tell you something but then the results come back normal.

especially if the only potential answers to your problems are notoriously difficult to diagnose, treat, and/or require specialists that you don't have access to.

especially if this would have been a lot easier to deal with if you had supportive family members but you were medically neglected and/or don't have any family that you can rely on (this particularly applies to congenital stuff.)

and especially if you don't have the time, finances, or patience to figure out what the fuck is going on because dealing with the medical system and constant testing and a constant lack of answers is utterly fucking exhausting. desperately wanting help and relief and feeling fear that something might be seriously wrong but you don't even need to start, or just being tired of suffering and not having any clue what your body is doing.

post inspired having had episodes of wack neurological(?) shit that was causing excruciating nerve pain at the base of my neck and my upper back that was at like a 10 and cognitive impairment that got worse the longer i remained upright (including my speech starting to slur) over the past couple of years that seems to correlate with daytime manual labor specifically. seemed to be a herniated disc but a supine mri that insurance refused to cover showed zero signs of disc herniation or any other abnormalities. is it cci? is it a spinal cfs leak?? who fucking knows dude!! i came home sounding like i was drunk one day due to how fucking delirious i was and left work on day in tears once due to feeling like a knife was in the base of my neck and i still have no idea why ✌🏻

[r0semaryt3a]

Some pre/during Yorknew Phantom Troupe Identity hcs + Illumi and Kurapika

I do not care if you disagree with these- my word is not law and honestly I want to hear some other headcannons so feel free to drop them down

Chrollo Lucilfer -

Ah Chrollo, my wife <3

He/him (surprising the masses after my wife joke)

Bisexual (no pref)

Monogamy - don’t even suggest otherwise it will be shot down.

“My identity? I’m a bisexual man…hmm? He/him.”

Feitan Portor

He/it

Has not and will not ever think about it (if he likes you he’ll date you he won’t label it)

It would be like pulling teeth trying to get him to answer on his identity. Like, it’s just not important to him. Why do you want to know so bad? Just call it whatever, it’s not gonna humour you with a conversation anyways.

“He.” ‘is there anything else?’ “It.” ‘And your sexuality?’ “…like you, date you. Simple.”

Phinks Magcub

He/him

Straight

Messed around once - quickly learnt he was indeed straight

These people really don’t see the prevalence in their identities so they’re all pretty blunt on answering.

“Eh? Why’d you wanna know? So what? I’m a guy. What? I like girls sure.”

Machi Komacine -

my absolute favourite

She/her

Messed around w gender for a bit; doesn’t care but will let you know “she’s a girl”

Bisexual - fem pref

Was the opposite of Phinks - thought she was lesbian then messed around and realised she was indeed bi

“Call me whatever…I’m a girl though.”

“I mean I like everyone, I think? Girls are probably better. No they are”

Woman has to double check with herself whenever asked, it’s like answering a quiz

Franklin Bordeau

He/him

Homosexual

Like one of the only ones who’d give you a straight answer if you ever asked

“I’m a man and yes, I like men.” Type of answer

Uvogin

He/him

Bi - male pref (the phantom troupe is just a bisexual chat room atp)

I Cannot decide whether I like Nobunaga or Shalnark w this guy

You’ll find out from fucking around with him. In no world is he answering you.

Pakunoda

She/her

THIS WOMAN IS LESBIAN NO DEBATE

L e s b i a n

Can imagine her being the only one of the group to just have her identity down from day dot

Definitely had a fling with Machi at some point that didn’t work out (they ended on good terms obviously. I can and will go into lengthy detail as to why I believe they had something going in the past and weren’t still together during Yorknew)

This woman is the died in the arc she first appeared in rep I needed!

“She/her honey. I like girls, that’s all that’s to it.”

Shalnark

Does not care

Pan

Literally just a colouring book, do what you want he won’t correct you (there’s nothing to correct to)

“Oh? Hmm, well I’ve never really thought about it much. It makes sense for me to be pan though, I guess!”

Nobunaga Hazama

He/they

Homosexual

He’s like that grandad that tells you about his time out in clubs and you’re sat going: “YOU? YOU did those things?”

“I’m a homosexual.”

Hisoka Morow

Call this amalgamation of a human whatever you want. As long as you can fight, you can talk to him/j

Type of guy to make a “Yours” joke

I really don’t see Hisoka caring for what people see him as. Like you wanna call him a he? Go for it. She? Sure why not! They? It? All on the table!

Another bisexual - his preference is fight me

Would 100% be down for poly, but depending on his attachment would also demand monogamy

“Why don’t we set a date and you can find out hmm~?”

Shizuku Murasaki

She/it

Straight or Aro, one or the other she’s either heavily into romance or completely repulsed and I can’t decide which I think it is.

Will blink at you for two minutes before sighing a response

“Well I don’t mind she or it I suppose.”

Kortopi

It/its

Aroace

I don’t really have that many thoughts on Kortopi so this is like all I’m giving

bonolenov

He/him

No one really has a clue on his sexuality and he doesn’t tell any of them, ever. Like he knows what he is, but he just never says it

Illumi Zoldyck

He/Him?

He’s never really thought about it much, after-all aside from family it’s not like most people will live long enough for his identity to matter

Sexuality? Who knows! He sure doesn’t. Does he even like people? Who’s to say!

“What does it matter? I’m a man by all accounts, so refer to me as such.”

Kurapika Kurta

He/they

Bisexual

I don’t even really know why he’s on this list tbf.

Will give you his whole coming out story if you ask about his identity. You’ll be there a while.

This was actually really fun to sit and do-

[quasi-normalcy]

Why Deep Space Nine wasn't as popular as the other 90s Star Treks when it aired

So I keep seeing this one kind of conspiratorial text post circulating around which asserts that Deep Space Nine wasn't as popular as the other Star Trek series from the 90s because Rick Berman hated it and deliberately sabotaged it, and also (somehow) marginalized references to it in canon even decades after he stopped having absolutely anything to do with the franchise and just...no. Like, I have no idea how Rick Berman personally felt about Deep Space Nine, but what I do know is that he co-created it and executive produced it and basically ran the entire Star Trek franchise during the 90s, so if he *really* hated what it was doing, he could have just put his foot down and stopped it. Moreover, he didn't marginalize references to Deep Space Nine in canon; Voyager getting into contact with the Alpha Quadrant and learning that the Maquis had been exterminated by the Dominion (something that happened on Deep Space Nine) was one of the very few plot points on that series to have repercussions for more than an episode; First Contact featured the Defiant; both Insurrection and Nemesis have references to the Dominion War. The post is reacting against a problem that doesn't really exist.

But it does raise the question: why *wasn't* Deep Space Nine popular when it aired? And I think that the answer might be difficult for people who weren't alive and conscious during the 1990s to understand, so I'm going to try to lay out the reasons:

Serialization was only just becoming a thing on adult American television: I know that this might sound a bit difficult to believe now, but there was a time when networks really hated serialization and, with context, it's not too hard to understand why. In the 1990s, there was no streaming; there weren't even any DVD sets. Any given episode aired once at a designated time. If you missed that time, then your options were to wait until it was rerun a few weeks later, or again during the summer (and the networks would often air reruns out of order, so good fucking luck with that), or to hope that one of your friends had recorded it on a VHS tape. Otherwise, you just couldn't see it. Even worse than that, networks could arbitrarily pre-empt their own programming. Like, "Oh, you wanted to watch Star Trek? Well a baseball game just went into overtime and it brings in ten times as many viewers. Hopefully you won't find it too jarring if we just begin half an hour into the episode." So you can understand why this would have a knock-on effect on serialised storytelling; if you've missed one episode, and the subsequent stories depend on plot points from the episode, then you're just going to be confused. But even beyond that, if you're not used to serialization as an audience, then you're not going to be on the look-out for context clues. "Oh, that alien just told Quark about something called 'the Dominion'? Oh that sounds important--oh, wait, no, they got to the end of the episode and nothing happened with it. I guess it wasn't important after all."

The Star Trek name: This one seems a bit counterintuitive, because of course the name should be a draw to fans of the other series, but you have to remember that, at the time in question, the franchise consisted only of the original series and movies and the first six and a half seasons of TNG. Now, these differed in several ways, but what they had in common is that they were all about a bunch of moral paragons who flew around in space in shiny starships, having episodic adventures. That was what Star Trek was. And then you got a new series about a bunch of morally compromised characters who sat still in space on a gungy old space station having serialised adventures. It's not the same thing, and so a lot of people who wanted the first thing tuned out (which was, in fact, why Voyager had to be created), whereas a lot of people who wanted the second thing might not have tuned in because they figured it would be the first thing. And this of course brings us to the third reason:

Babylon 5: So stop me if you've heard this one before: it's a serialized drama from the 1990s all about a bunch of humans and aliens having to coexist on a space station as they navigate diplomatic crises and gradually become enmeshed in an elaborate space opera story arc. It features a race of aliens who can be called "highly spiritual", a race of aliens who have recently overthrown a decades-long brutal occupation of their homeworld by a crumbling and overstretched empire, a race of aliens who are often mistaken for gods (and who cultivate this misconception), and a mysterious new threat emerging onto the galactic scene, eventually culminating in a seasons-long war arc. I am of course describing J. Michael Straczynski's science fiction masterpiece Bablyon 5, which he, and a great many of his fans, regarded (and not without reason) as having been ripped off and pre-empted by Paramount in the form of Deep Space Nine. Now, looking at the evidence, I personally think that most of the similarities between these series are a sort of convergent evolution; but, whatever your opinion on the matter, the fact remains that these two fandoms hated each other during the 1990s. And the net effect of this was that a bunch of SF nerds who would probably have really liked DS9 if they had gotten to see it never watched it at all as a matter of principle because as far as they were concerned, its very existence was a corporate ploy to bully an upstart rival out of business.

Anyways, for all of these reasons, it's not remarkable to me that Deep Space Nine never became as popular as TNG and Voyager; and because it wasn't as popular, it makes sense that Paramount would be more circumspect about greenlighting Picard-style sequels or Lower Decks or Prodigy-style spinoffs to it (and indeed, I'm not convinced that all of the writers have even seen it). But I think that it is a testament to just how good DS9 was that it still managed to get the same seven seasons, even if it never drew in the same audience