#dunno how they keep humans on them for months

[opens-up-4-nobody]

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[samwinchesterswifu]

You Shook Me All Night Long (Dean Winchester x Reader) Smut

Bunker seasons era

Song Inspo: "You Shook Me All Night Long" by ACDC

Warnings: literally the whole thing is just smut lmfao

MINORS DNI

A/N: ive been having TERRIBLE writers block. I dunno how happy i am with this one, so PLEASE let me know if this good smutty shit yall, thnxs for your endless support <3

Word Count: 1103

Summary: He surprises her with coming home early...but that's not the only thing he surprises her with.

The boys were away on a week long hunt. Since injuring her knee a few months ago during a Ghoul hunt, she’s decided to take a break from hunting to allow her body full time to heal. This allowed her a lot of time to make the Bunker a proper home for them. She would spend her weekends keep housing if the boys were still gone, then during the week she would spend time in the library cataloging or helping with research. Then, whenever Dean came home, she was hands on with focus. Her and Dean had been a thing for a little while. The stress of the job eventually breaking down the tough looking hunter asking her to be his life partner. She had happily agreed. There was no real label on their relationship, just two people who understood each other more than any other human.

It was a Sunday morning. Dean had called her the night before, informing her that they would probably be home Sunday night, or possibly into Monday. She was excited to see Dean. Since taking her leave, Dean coming home from these longer hunts added an extra excitement to their relationship. But knowing he won’t be home until as late as tomorrow, she treated it like any other Sunday.

Dressed in little shorts, a cute tank top that showed off her features she began her cleaning routine. Starting in the war room, making her way through the kitchen and then finally to the library. Music blasted throughout the speaker system of the bunker. Charlie had helped set her up with a Bluetooth connection to the old raggedy speakers one weekend while the boys were gone and they had a girls date. It was her little incentive to stay motivated.

One of her favorite 80’s song began on a new rotation of shuffle and she began swagging her hips to the beat of the song while spraying cleaner on the library tables, bending over to get all the way across. She was so distracted by the beat that she didn’t even hear the bunker door open. Dean had arrived home early as a surprise. Dancing around the tables, doing small spins or dance moves, Dean just admired her from a distance. He never got to see her like this. He dropped his bag down and with a thud she turned around to see him. Completely flustered that she was caught. The two of them just starred, Dean was practically undressing her with his eye making her squirm under his gaze.

Neither of them said anything as Dean strode towards her. Grabbing onto her hips, and pulling her tight to his chest. Breathing in the cheap cologne Dean always loved to wear, practically getting drunk off his sent alone. A grin creeps on Dean’s face and he sways the two to the beat. Eyes were locked on one another as he gave her a little spin before bringing her back into sway. A deep blush forms across her cheeks. She hardly ever saw Dean this way, usually this was after a good hunt and no one got hurt. Towards the end of the song, Dean crashes his lips to hers. This was a new hunger she hasn’t experienced. Sure, they’ve had make-up sex, ‘I thought I lost you back there’ sex, and so forth. But this was different, it was ravenous. Dean’s kisses grew heavier, teeth clashing as he drove his hands all over her curves.

At this point, her hips were pinned against one of the library tables. Dean broke away from her lips, kissing along her cheek and down towards the nape of her neck. Nibbling away at different spots along her collar bone. Small mewls and moans of pleasure leave her lips, earning a tighter grip of his hands on her. Dean leans down for a brief moment, hoisting her up by her legs to sit her on the table. He gently pushes her shoulders back on the hardwood, and continues to trail kisses down her clothed body. As he gets closer to her stomach, Dean shifts to be on his knees. Which was surprising. He places tiny kisses across her hips as he uses his hands to push open her legs. Dean yanks off her shorts underwear in a swift movement. Both pieces coming off together. This man was starving for her.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers looking at her pussy. His eyes drift back up to hers as he licked his lips.

In a split second, Dean was diving in. Lapping away at her folds like it was the most delectable fruit Dean has ever tasted in his time on earth. An orgasm was ripping through her body with moments. She tugs on his hair as he continues to coach her through the orgasm. But Dean wasn’t done, he was still at it. Moans echoed through the library and she felt so unholy. This is where men of generations came to learn about the monsters of her world, and yet her she was, bare ass on the same table as her man ate her out alive.

Another orgasm was on the horizon, and like the quick man that Dean Winchester is, two of his broad fingers are inserted into her folds. A shocked and rattled moan escapes her at the shock of surprise and pleasure. His fingers are going in and out like a jack rabbit. Dean occasionally curling them to reach her g-spot.

“Come on baby,” Dean whispers from his spot. This man was fucking edging her on.

Another finger inserted.

“If you want my cock, I’ll need another one from you,” his voice was demanding. And she was prepared to meet those demands.

His attack on her just sped up more, and more. While simultaneously sucking on her clit. But finally, she was close.

“Fuck, Dean,” she gasps. Tugging again at his strands.

“Don’t..stop,” breathing was labored and felt like she was about to see stars. She was there…she was right there…

Then there was nothing. The area Dean was just in was cold. Looking up in utter confusion, she sees her man pulled away. His chin shining with her cum and a shit eating grin plaster on his damn face.

She stutters.

“Y-you, you cant do that, please Dean.” The unpleasant feeling of an orgasm left unfinished pulsated through her.

“I’m gunna need you to last all day sweetheart, I’m not done with you yet,” He says as he gets up from his position.

Giving her a wink, he simply walks away leaving her baffled.

What the hell am I getting myself into.

[pullhisteeth]

Hi, lovely! Just wanted to drop by and say that I miss you and your amazing writing 🥹🧡 I understand if you're taking a break or stepping away from the app, but if you're up for it, I was wondering if I could drop in a request? No pressure at all! I REALLY love the way you write fluffy and angsty fics so I was wondering if you could write about a besties-to-lovers with Eddie where he asks the reader for help with asking a different girl out, without knowing about reader's feelings for him...and then along the way he realizes his feelings for the reader hehe and maybe a lil sprinkle of jealous!Eddie too 😎 Ily and I hope you're doing okay! 🩷🩷🩷

hi my love! this is the sweetest message thank you - not taking an intentional break, just busy as anything. work’s been my whole life the past couple weeks (today is actually my first day off in like a month) and what with that and trying to eat/sleep/speak to other human beings I am …… deceased

it’s so kind of you to say hello! I loved writing your request, it was a nice break for my brain and it felt good to get back into it. ♡ love you!

contains hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. tried to get some jealous!eddie in there for you :-)

3.4k

-

Eddie looks pretty like this.

He’s sitting at your desk in the library. You’re not sure why he’s here, though that wasn’t your first thought when you spotted him on your way over. He’s hunched over slightly, unruly hair keeping his face hidden, but it’s catching the light of the afternoon sun just right and it’s glowing a blushing golden and the flutters in your gut are relentless.

“Hey,” you murmur, wary of both startling him, and the strict Hawkins Library warden who likes to shush people like it’s a sport. Regardless he starts, shoulders jumping and face whipping up and around to look at you with wide, surprised eyes that soften when he realises who you are.

“Hi, sugar,” he says, voice ebbing as he notices how loud he’s being. He looks around quickly, just in case he’s about to get scolded, before looking back up at you and beaming. It doesn’t fool you, though; his presence here coupled with the sheen of anxiety behind his eyes gives him away.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, setting your backpack down on the table and taking the seat opposite him.

He begins fiddling with his ring again and diverts his eye. He’s nervous and you want to know how to fix it more than you wish to let on.

You hum an encouraging noise when he says nothing, sliding textbooks out of your bag along with your pens.

“I, uh… I need your help,” he says warily.

“Oh? With what?”

“I want to, uh… I wanna ask Tara out,” he says, and the words come out in one quick breath, his eyes still on his hands. “But I dunno how.”

You’re quiet, busy hands halting with a book halfway open. You look at him, mouth agape, for a second too long - he looks up after a beat and catches you before you have the sense to close it.

“Please?” he begs, those eyes like a puppy dog, wide and brown and far too lovable. “I’d take her to the Hawk but she’s- Man, she’s way too cool, it’s intimidating, and I really wanna impress her, you know? And I think the Hawk’ll be too busy on Friday ‘cause I know that new movie’s out that all the kids wanna see, so what if-”

“Okay,” you say. You’re sharp, voice like a whip, cutting him off before he derails.

He looks at you blankly for a second before saying, “Really? Shit, thank you.”

You look down at the books in front of you, eyes on the printed pages but taking nothing in. “Take her to the Garage,” you tell him quietly.

“What?”

“The Garage,” you repeat, closing the textbook and piling it on top of the others to return them to your bag. “It’s on the east side, on the road out.”

“Yeah, I know where the Garage is, but- Wait, are you headin’ out already? You just got here.”

“Don’t feel like studying,” you say flatly. “The Garage is cool. Rob took me there once. Tara’d love it.”

“Hey, hey-” His restless hands reach over to grip your wrist, to stop you moving, but you’re slippery and quick and far too determined on leaving. “You don’t have to leave, I’ll leave you alone. Your exam’s next week, I don’t wanna-”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I’ll study tomorrow.”

“But-”

“See you around,” you say quickly, tugging on the zipper on your bag and standing so fast it makes your head spin. You can hear him protesting behind you but it’s no use - the only place you want to be right now is home.

-

Eddie doesn’t call that evening. He doesn’t call the next day either, or the two following that. You float between your bed, the fridge and various shifts at work without so much as daring to call him yourself, though you lie awake at night and worry you’ve done something terrible, something earth-shatteringly cruel by leaving him like you did. Something so bad that twelve years of friendship is lost forever.

“Maybe it’s better like this,” you tell Nancy over the phone. It’s Thursday night, four days until your exam, and you haven’t spoken to Eddie since Sunday. “I was gonna spend forever like that. Maybe now I can move on or somethin’.”

“We both know you’re not going to move on,” she tells you. You groan, turning over onto your back to stare at your bedroom ceiling. Your bed is like a rotten pit, unmade for nearly a week and the past five days’ dirty (and clean) laundry is littered all over the top of the comforter. “And you shouldn’t. You’d just be hiding from your feelings.”

“I hate you,” you tell her, though the way your voice comes out through your smile deceives you. “You always sound so wise, how is that?”

“I am wise,” she says, smiling too. “And I’m wise enough to know that Eddie feels the same, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. Apparently I’ve got the brains for both of us, ‘cause he’s a bit dumb like that sometimes.”

“I wish he wasn’t,” you whine, “I can’t get the image of him and Tara outta my head.”

“I can go, if you want,” she says.

“Huh?”

“I can take Rob to the Garage on Friday, keep an eye on stuff.”

“Shit, would you?”

“Yeah, why not? What’re you doing that night anyway?”

“Dunno,” you say, morose, “Probably heading to the library again.”

“Okay,” she says sympathetically. “You’re gonna smash this exam, you know that, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grumble.”

“Well I know you will. And then Indiana State’ll have the best biologist known to man on their campus.”

“Funny,” you say.

“I’m wise and funny? You’re kind tonight.”

“I’m gonna go, Nance.”

“Okay,” she says, laughing. “I’ll call on Saturday, okay? And please eat some dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply, hanging up. You balance the receiver back on its stand and roll back over, willing the tears back when you feel them roll down your temples.

-

Friday nights are your favourite nights at the library.

Who else spends the one designated social evening of the week in a room designed for quiet? You, apparently, alongside two old ladies knitting in the comfy corner, and a kid who looks like he might be home from college for the holidays. You’re settled at your usual desk with textbooks and papers scattered everywhere - the tabletop, the chair next to you, the floor. You’ve been here for hours, pouring over all of your work, oblivious to most of the minimal movement and chatter happening in the room.

You’ve got a tape in your Walkman - classical, one your dad found at the record store downtown - so you feel Eddie before you see him. He startles you, his wide hand on your shoulder, and you jump, pulling your headphones down.

“Fucking hell,” you breathe, your heart beating a mile a minute. You twist in your seat and put your pen down, looking up at him. You couldn't worry about the warden if you tried, far too enamoured by him despite everything. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He’s hovering over you, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed pink. You notice he has his nice shirt on - a deep blue, so dark it’s almost black - and his lips are rosy.

“Tara needed the bathroom on the way home, this was the closest place. How’s it going?”

There’s a lilt to his voice that churns your stomach. It’s the one he gets at parties, or that night just before your birthday when the two of you drank wine in his living room and didn’t sleep until six in the morning.

He’s been drinking and, judging by the smell lingering on his clothes, smoking, too, and his smile and the pink blooming over his cheeks only makes the churning worse.

“Fine,” you tell him. “Was in the zone, sorry.”

“No,” he breathes, finally backing away. You fill your lungs and watch him as he rounds the table. His eyes keep moving from you to the door across the room, presumably watching for her. “I interrupted you, ‘m’sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Gotta run,” he says, face brightening in a way that makes you want to vomit. You turn back around and see Tara in the doorway, waving, beaming. “Don’t work too hard, please? Get some sleep. And eat something- Have you eaten at all today?”

He’s standing a foot or two from the table now, but he stops as he asks you this.

“Uh,” you look down at your watch. 12:07am. “I had lunch.”

“Shit, you need’ta eat something. Please.”

“Okay, Eds. I’ll have some toast when I get home. Have a nice night.”

“You’ve got this,” he says, and it’s here that the silly smile on his face falters. He still hasn’t moved, and you can see Tara looking over, watching. He’s looking at you and something breaks - his smile drops completely and his eyes go all sad and weird.

“What?” you ask, unamused.

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing. Get some sleep okay? See you later.”

He turns and walks across to the exit, and you watch him leave. He’s slow and slumped, like someone’s just delivered bad news.

You head out fifteen minutes later, and chew unhappily on three slices of toast before you get to bed.

-

Studying until late is never a good idea.

You’re hopping around your bedroom, pulling stockings up your legs and praying to anything holy that the traffic on your way into work isn’t too bad.

“I know this isn’t really what you wanted to hear,” Nancy’s saying sadly. You’ve got the receiver propped between your cheek and your shoulder as you stumble around and stretch the cord within an inch of its life. “They just… It really did look like they were having fun.”

“He came to see me at the library,” you tell her breathlessly, desperate to think of anything but Eddie and Tara playing pool and laughing like lovedrunk teenagers

“What? When? Last night?”

“Yeah, said she needed a piss on the way home.” You stop hopping, both stockings finally in place, and take the phone in your hand. “He was really weird, actually.”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno. He seemed happy, but then he got all sad.”

“Did you tell him off?” she asks, faux-stern.

“No,” you tell her, “just told him I’d have dinner, and to have a good night.”

She hums, and you look at the clock.

“Shit, Nance, I’m sorry, I really gotta go, I’m gonna be so late-”

“No, no, you go, I’ll see you soon. And good luck on Monday, yeah? I know you’ll ace it.” -

Your body takes you to the library like it’s on auto-pilot or something. You finished the entrance exam three hours ago, and though it seemed to go okay, you daren’t be too optimistic. You’d hovered around town for a while, eating ice cream and watching birds, before your feet walked you right here: your desk on the first floor of Hawkins Library.

It’s here that you’ve been sitting for an hour or so, flicking through novels but finding no interest in the words on the page. Your brain is melted from a near-fatal combination overworking and overthinking, and without an exam to worry about, the latter is now the one clocking overtime.

You can’t get the picture of Eddie’s face out of your head. His eyes had been so sad, his face drooping like the dawning of some cruel realisation. The way he’d walked out of the room had matched it, sorrowful and curled over.

Worst of all, he hasn’t called.

There’s only two reasons you can think of. Firstly, he’s busy calling Tara instead of you. He’s telling her about his day, spinning new inside jokes and letting her hear his pretty laugh.

Or second: he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. You’re too cold, flat, uninteresting. Tara is cool.

There is a third possibility that you daren’t think about for the sake of your own heart: that both are true.

You slam the hardback in your hands shut and place it roughly on the table.

“Woah, was it that bad?”

You look up and find Eddie standing across from you, precisely where he’d been that moment something had changed on Friday. He’s far less put together now, dressed in his usual bedraggled jacket and jeans.

He laughs as you stare at him. After a minute, he takes the seat opposite and pulls the book towards himself.

“Weird choice for you, sugar.”

“Quiet,” you tell him in a whisper, nodding to your right where the warden is circling.

“Sorry,” he whispers back with a smile. “What’re you still doing here? Wasn’t the exam this morning?”

“I like it here,” you tell him. A half-truth - you do, but you’d really rather be anywhere else right now.

“Right,” he says, clearly not buying it. “And how’d it go?”

You shrug. “Okay, I think. I hope.”

“You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll do great.”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” you say, looking out of the window to your left.

“What? That you’re smart?”

“That I’ll ace it. I have no idea.”

“No, you don’t,” he says. “But you’ve definitely got a better idea than me.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, turning back to look at him.

“I just… You’ve got more brains than me, that’s all.”

He’s fiddling with his rings again, eyes trained on the tentative movements of his fingers rather than you. It gives you a chance to take in his face properly: tired, sallow, unhappy.

“How was Friday?” you chance. He shrugs. “Just okay?”

“Fine, yeah,” he says, voice flat and unfeeling. “Had fun, ‘til we came here.”

Your instinct is to be offended. You didn’t say anything cruel or unwarranted; in fact you barely said a thing at all. How could you have ruined the evening?

“What?”

“Tara, she, uh… She said bye when we left. I was walkin’ her home, only stopped here for the can, I mean- You know we’re miles from the park, took me forever to get back to mine. Thought, y’know…” You hum so he doesn’t have to utter the inevitable and break your heart.

“What happened?” you ask softly, hands on the table in front of you like an offering.

He looks troubled, truly, and it hurts - you may have gone a week without contact, the longest since he went on a fishing trip with Wayne when you were both 18, but he’s your best friend, and his pain is your pain.

He closes his eyes tight and sucks in a breath.

“When we left, she said… She told me I need to ‘really think about things’, which made no sense to me at the time, I guess ‘cause I was, like, 4 whiskey sours in and we’d smoked on the way over, and then she used the payphone outside to call a cab so I waited with her and walked home, and the next morning I realised what she meant.”

You look at him with nothing to say. He takes another deep breath.

“She probably saw me over here with you, y’know, and I’m sure to other people we seem pretty… Comfortable. And then you said you hadn’t eaten, and you looked so tired, I- All I wanted to do was take you home and make you dinner. And then the next morning, and, like, all weekend, all I could think was that one day some other guy’d be doin’ that for you, some college guy or somethin’, and I’d have to watch, ‘cause you’re my friend.”

“Eddie, I don’t understand.”

You’re genuinely bewildered. He’s still whispering, or at least talking in a low voice, and at multiple points during the past five minutes you thought you’d completely misheard him. It’s definitely your Eddie sitting opposite you - he has a tendency to be a little dramatic, and this is certainly that - but he’s never been so brashly honest like this with you before.

“I had fun with Tara, really, but… I realised I’d spent all night thinking about how much better it’d have been if you’d been there.”

You can feel the flush like fire up your neck and across your cheeks. Your palms are clammy so you pull them inwards, back towards yourself, to save yourself the embarrassment.

“I think I need to get some air,” you say, standing and leaving without waiting for him.

You hear him behind you as you descend the stairs and push the clunky glass door open. You’re met with a wall of cold air and you breathe a heaving sigh as you stand in its frost.

The door opens again only a few seconds later, and you turn to face your friend.

“Eddie,” you begin, “I need to know that you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me.”

“You left your coat,” is all he says, handing you the jacket. You don’t move, too stunned, so he steps behind you and you let him manipulate your arms into the sleeves like a sullen child.

“Eddie,” you bite, impatient and frustrated.

“Yeah,” he breathes behind you. When the coat’s on, he squeezes your shoulders, and you round on him.

“Please just tell me what the fuck is going-”

“I think I love you,” he says, louder than you. It’s a declaration, said without hesitation or subtlety. It’s so confidently loud that a couple of people leaving the library turn to look.

“It shouldn’t have taken me taking someone else out to realise it, but fuck, once I did I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I guess ‘cause we see each other all the time I never really questioned why I think about you so often, or whatever, but… I wanted to take you home and make you dinner on Friday, make sure you got some sleep, fuckin’ look after you. Made me feel dumb as hell because you’re not a kid or anythin’, but I just want you to be okay.”

You’re not sure when you started crying. Maybe it was as early as the declaration itself, but you know that by the time he told you he wants to take care of you, tears were rolling over your cheeks, unstoppable and filled with elation.

“Shit,” Eddie whispers, stepping toward you without thinking, reaching out to hold you somehow. He settles for a hand on your upper arm, almost at your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m sorry, please don’t cry, I-”

“It’s fine, I’m okay, I’m, uh- I’m happy,” you say, giggling, your tears making it wetter, thicker. “They’re happy tears.”

“Oh, good,” he breathes, shoulders sloping. You spot the beginning of a grin through cloudy vision. “Thank god.”

While you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jumper, Eddie’s hand moves from your shoulder and to your neck. You feel the heavy weight of him pressing there, not threatening but a comfort. It forces you closer, until you’re both looking at each other and laughing.

“The exam went really well,” you tell him. “Honest.”

“I knew it would,” he says, curling a finger behind your ear to move a piece of hair from your face. “You’re gonna kill it at college.”

“I’ll miss you. And everyone else.”

“We’re not going anywhere any time soon,” he says softly, fingers dancing until he’s cradling your face. His other hand is stuffed in his pocket, and you’re close enough that you can reach in and grasp it, pulling it out so you can wind your fingers between his. He looks down and smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. It’s almost a whisper and you almost miss it - almost. “For the exam, I mean. You did well, y’deserve a kiss.”

“Sure,” you say, laughing again. “For the exam, yeah.”

He chuckles before dipping his head just enough. You lift up to meet him halfway and he presses his lips to yours, firm but quick.

“Again,” you breathe, and he doesn’t ask questions. He bows again and kisses you, his force solid and homely. You kiss him back, breathless and keening.He’s warm and you want to take, take, take. You only stop when the door opens behind you again, creaking and followed by quick footsteps as someone else leaves.

Eddie kisses your nose and says, “Shit, you’re cold.”

“Can we go home?”

“No,” he says, and before you can finish protesting, he adds, “We have to celebrate. You’re done with studying! Let’s go get milkshakes or something.”

You wrinkle your nose, determined that you won’t be going to the diner you work in. “How about pizza?”

“Whatever you want, smartie pants.”

You physically bristle at the petname, cheeks flushing again despite the chill. Eddie’s arm settles around your shoulders and squeezes as he kisses your temple.

You stop walking once you reach the end of the block. He stops with you and turns to look at you without dropping your hand.

"I think I love you too, by the way," you tell him. "I didn't say- Back there, I should've said it. I- Well, I know I love you."

He smiles - beams - at your return of his declaration. He squeezes your hand in his and tugs.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Let's go."

-

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No. 16, No. 19, No. 22

Prompt 16: Swamp

Prompt 19: Abandoned cabin

Prompt 22: Tourniquet

Warnings: Animal death; severe injuries

A/N: Sorry for the abrupt ending. This one has been a work in progress since the beginning of the month and I just can’t get it to go any further. Maybe I’ll continue with a second part later.

gif is not mine - google

Neither human nor beast had moved since you had spotted the predator—a dragon by its own right. The alligator’s eyes reflected both the water’s surface and a sinister promise. Daryl, the water easily reaching his shoulders with his feet touching the swamp floor, was breathing quickly through his nose but remained otherwise motionless. The only thing you could see in his eyes was naked, implacable fear. 

“Daryl.” You whimpered. 

“Get outta the water.” You knew better than to argue and moved the slightest inch to turn before he spoke again. “Slow. Don’t splash.” He added. 

“Okay.” You tried to keep your movements fluid, deliberate. Each step beneath the murky surface felt heavy and so slow that you thought you would never feel the water receding around your upper body. You momentarily considered shedding your backpack but decided against it. There was a strange noise behind you but you kept your eyes on the overgrown shoreline. “Daryl?”

“Doin’ great. Keep goin’.” 

You nodded and maintained your glacial pace, bending at the waist as you began to leave the water in order to minimize the droplets that would unsettle the surface. The foreboding sense of being followed gnarled and twisted in your gut, and you allowed yourself to believe it was Daryl inching along behind you. 

“Almost there.” The tremble in his tone was easy to detect. You could also pick up that he was nowhere near behind you. 

“Daryl, how will you—” You didn’t see the debris. Of course you couldn’t through the dingy water. You had barely tripped and hit your knees when all hell broke loose around you. 

“Run, run, GO!” Came Daryl’s roar, a half a second before you heard and felt the chaos erupting. You were moving within milliseconds of his command, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder. 

“Shit!” A second gator had—at some point—surfaced, its tail whipping side-to-side to carry it toward you at a speed you would have never been able to outswim. Clambering onto the shore, the weeds soggy and giving beneath your feet, you ran a few meters ahead, trying hard to ignore the sounds that echoed beyond what could be your approaching death. 

The smaller alligator met land with a speed you hadn’t known the creatures capable of outside the water, its four legs carrying that open maw toward you faster than you were prepared to counter. With your only choices being abandon Daryl or fight, you made the only one with which your heart could live. 

Waiting until the last second, just as the animal lunged for you, you leapt to the side, twisting your body to throw your hunting knife. Those lessons with Daryl had paid off. The alligator slid forward until the momentum waned before going still, your knife protruding from its left eye. 

There was no time to catch your breath. “Daryl!” Between the heavy splashing, you would catch sight of a tail or an arm, the glint of sunlight off a blade. He was fighting for his life and you had no idea how to help him. Did you go back in the water? It’s what you wanted to do. There were likely other gators being attracted by the frenzy. Maybe you could keep them—

“Y’alright?!” 

“Oh, Daryl, thank god.” He was already wading toward you, shaking out his left hand while his right still held his knife. There was a decent amount of blood hitting the water with each flick. “Where did—is it dead?”

The archer shrugged a shoulder. “Dunno. Ain’t waitin’ ‘round to find out neither.” 

You were already reaching for him before he stepped out onto the mud, your hands latching onto his vest to pull him forward into a kiss that had him gasping against your mouth before just as quickly settling to return the gesture. After a few breathless heartbeats, his forehead rested against yours.

“Fancy knife work there.” 

You opened your eyes to find his still closed but you knew what he spoke of without separating from him. “Learned from the best.” You peppered his lips with several more chaste kisses before finally straightening to go retrieve your weapon. “We should probably take a look at—” The words died on your tongue, dissolved by horror and fear. 

Why hadn’t you urged him away from the water? Why hadn’t he moved further on his own? As the strong jaws clamped down around Daryl’s lower leg, the answers you sought no longer mattered. The archer smacked the ground with a shout, attempting to roll over while reaching for his knife. A sharp pull on his leg foiled his attempt. 

“Daryl!” You leapt forward, grabbing for his hand. Your fingers brushed his just as he was yanked into the water, the gator letting go just long enough to seek a better hold, teeth sinking into the flesh of Daryl’s right thigh. He let out a pained yell that followed him beneath the tenebrous marsh. “Daryl, no!”

The surface bubbled and rippled before going still, your heart twisting before it sank. The swamps were silent as you stepped into the shallows, scanning, watching, praying. 

“Daryl.” You whispered frantically, taking another step into the water. If you could do something for Daryl then you’d gladly let death come for you. If you could do nothing, then it could come all the same. Your feet slid forward again, your eyes darting, desperate for just a glimpse of your archer. 

When the surface broke, it was a tail first, then the gator’s belly. Its jaws still held Daryl’s leg as it rolled, his body twisting to turn with the beast. He was alive, and he was trying to remain that way while keeping his limb intact. The gator rolled a second time with Daryl gasping in a frenzied breath before he was plunged once again. 

Gripping the hilt of your knife, you dove under, throwing any consideration of your own safety to the wayside. It was impossible to see below resulting in you reaching for either Daryl or the gator. When you felt something crash into your hand, you made a grab for it and rolled to the surface, quickly opening your eyes to find yourself holding Daryl’s belt. Bending at the waist, you wrapped your legs around him as the movement continued, the gator relentlessly seeking to tear the archer’s leg from his body. 

Above water again, you sucked in a breath and found your target, stabbing at the animal’s head with your knife. You felt it drive home and pulled it free as the rolls continued, repeating the action over and over with nothing but a prayer that you managed the kill and doing so without hitting Daryl. 

The momentum slowed before stopping completely, the water tinted red as you clawed your way to the surface, reaching down to grab Daryl before releasing the hold you had maintained with your legs. 

“Daryl.”

He broke the surface with an agonized groan, groping for you while you held on urgently. 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Backstroking while pulling him along, you managed to get him to the shoreline and struggled to your feet with your hands beneath his arms. You pulled and pulled, dragging him as far from the water as you could manage. He helped as much as he could with his uninjured leg, digging the heel of his boot into the ground and kicking back. “Let me see.”

The flesh of his thigh was torn, flayed at the edges of two wounds that were at least six inches long. They were deep but showed no bone. His lower leg was not unaffected but lacked the severity of the other injury. 

“Fuck.” You covered your mouth for a moment, watching him collapse onto his back, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Shedding your bag, you first grabbed a bottle of water, setting to work at cleaning the wound. When he shot upward with a shout, you began to mutter a mantra of I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry. 

“Goddamnit!” Daryl exclaimed and fell back again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The wound continued to bleed heavily, gaping open in such a way that seized you with panic, grasping for any remembrance of your medical training. 

“Stop the bleeding. Clean the wound.” You could attempt to stitch it later, once the blood clotted—if you could even manage to pull the skin together. Gauze would never cover it but you had little choice but to try, your clothing too wet with the filthy water to aid in staunching the flow. You prayed as you dug through your bag that the harder exterior of the medical kit had protected the contents. 

Your prayers were answered, the supplies were dry. With quick movements, you unbuckled your belt and pulled it free of the loops. Sliding it beneath his leg resulted in a groan and grimace of pain but you couldn’t stop, not until it was pulled tight and fastened above the wound. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You repeated as you released your makeshift tourniquet, satisfied with the visible decrease of blood flow. “You’ll bleed out if I don’t.” Grabbing another bottle of water, you removed the cap and quickly emptied it over the torn flesh, wincing in sympathy. Alcohol would have been preferred but much more painful. Still, you worked with what was available. 

“Do—do whatcha gotta do.” Daryl panted. He pressed his palms into the soggy ground and tried to push himself up, making it only to his elbows before he was out of breath. His left hand was still steadily weeping but at least he had managed to keep all of his fingers. “Christ.” He whispered, his wide eyes obtaining their first look at the wound. 

“I know.” You felt sick. What could you do beyond what had been done already? “We have to get out of here. Find the others and get back to Alexandria.” Square after square of gauze was applied before you wrapped the grizzly wound with the only roll you had to secure and press things into place. 

“S’gettin’ dark.” He commented, head tipped back. He was staring upward toward the canopy as his breathing slowed but failed to return to normal. “Can’t be walkin’ through this shit at night.”

“We can’t stay here, Daryl.” You argued. “There’s more, you know there are.” The swamps of Macon, Georgia were abundant with wildlife, including a healthy affluence of alligators. You were going to absolutely murder Rick for this mission when you and Daryl made it back. 

When. Not if. 

“S’try an’ find a place ain’t around the water.” He was still staring upward, dazed. “Ain’t got long to search ‘fore it gets dark.” When he didn’t make an attempt to move, you gathered all you could into your backpack, save for the knife you secured in the holster on your thigh. You even managed to put Daryl’s knife in its place on this good leg without any acknowledgment from the hunter. 

“Daryl.” You tried, watching the quick but shallow pants of his breath. His skin was still wet with swamp water, but was looking pale. “Daryl.” You attempted more forcefully. 

“Hmm?” He finally rolled his head toward you, the personification of calm. “Oh.” He seemed to finally catch on and started pushing himself upward, making it to a seated position only after you had grabbed beneath his arms and helped. Once it was clear he would not fold over onto his lap, you let go. 

“Gotta get you on your feet.” 

“Ain’t gonna get far.” The way he was behaving was beginning to worry you, his lack of panic—even pain.

“Daryl.” You crouched in front of him, taking another look at his leg. Red was already seeping through the bandage, a dark circle soaked into the soil below his thigh. “I need you with me.”  You said sternly, cupping his face with both hands. His gaze was cloudy, unfocused, and only seemed to clear the slightest fraction when you gave him a gentle shake. “Are you with me?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing. “Yeah.” He rasped. “Yeah, m’with ya.” Then he was actually trying to lever to his feet without your help, your hands frantically scrambling for purchase anywhere they could to provide support. To his credit, he made little noise beyond grunts and one sobbing rush of air once he was upright. 

“Okay, okay. Here we go.” He staggered into you while you assisted in draping his arm across your shoulders. “That wasn’t so hard.” You quipped, grinning up at him when those pretty blues glared at you. You had to keep things light. 

“Think—think you’re funny?” He grunted with the first supported step, his hand grasping for a firm grip on your shoulder. 

“I know I am.” 

“Gonna hafta—file a—a complaint.” 

The steps the two of you managed were small and hindered by the struggle of pulling along his right leg. Between blood loss and the tight tourniquet, it was amazing he could feel anything at all. Still, you trucked onward, boots sinking into the mushy ground. There was just too much water all around, too many threats. You kept your eyes peeled for danger, Daryl’s head now resting against the top of your own. He was getting weaker, slowing down, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep him going. 

When he began to shiver, it wasn’t a gradual transition. One minute he was simply a weight against your side and the next, he was vibrating and his teeth chattering. It was anything but cold. It could only mean one thing. 

“You’re losing too much blood.” You commented, not really with the intent of him hearing. If he did, he didn’t respond. 

The pale light that had been guiding your path had since receded before disappearing completely, leaving the two of you shrouded in darkness. Each step had to be calculated, a gentle touch of the toe of your boot to test the integrity of the ground before you would drag him forward. If you fell into the swamp water now, it would be impossible to pull him out. 

Glowing eyes surrounded you, the reminder that more of the apex predators awaited a single lapse in judgment, one mistake. 

“Talk to me, Daryl.” He was growing heavier and heavier, harder and harder to pull along even if the ground had been sturdy. 

“Called a—a death roll.”

“What?” You queried, truly curious about the topic even if you couldn’t pay him your undivided attention. You stepped across a downed limb, your hands never leaving him before you had to nearly drag him across after you. 

“What that—gator—what it did. S’a death roll.” He stopped talking for a moment, gaining his balance, or at least enough strength to keep him from toppling over. “S’how they—how they rip off chunks,” he sucked in a shaky breath, “to eat.”

The information sat like a stone in your gut. It really had been trying to sever his leg, less interested in killing him and more concerned with tearing off a hunk of him to swallow down. 

“Well.” It was the only thing you could think of to say. The silence ensued and dragged on, your hope being sapped out and left in the trail of disturbed mud his boot was carving with each pull of his useless leg. He was less walking and more limping along beside you in graceless movements that did little more than keep him moving. 

By the time the old cabin—more of a shack, really—came into view, you were barely holding Daryl up. Your strength was waning, your body exhausted. You could hear the moans and gnashing teeth of walkers stuck in the marsh, your consciousness just too lagged to give thanks for their inability to reach you and the archer. The very thought of defending the two of you in your current state made your body ache. 

“Daryl. Daryl, it’s a cabin.” You jostled him with your shoulder, relief flooding your senses when he raised his head, albeit slowly. His only reply was a drawn out hum. “We can make it. Come on.” Drawing upon your reserves, you pulled him along. “Hello?” You called, maneuvering Daryl up the dilapidated steps to the door. There was no response, no candlelight. Abandoned. Or so you had hoped before you heard a thump against the door that was followed by a snarling growl. “Of course!”

The walker—an old man—had a bullet wound through his cheek and you would have bet the entry wound was below his chin. He had missed. Maybe he had died quickly. You wished that for him. Without dwelling, you lured him out, keeping his focus away from the man you had placed on the floor of the porch, behind an old rocker. Your knife met the dead man’s temple at the top of the steps, the body toppling onto the ground and out of your way. 

“Done and done.” You nodded and sheathed your weapon, trudging tiredly toward where Daryl lay prone. “Hey, you still with me?” You patted the side of his boot on his good leg, chuckling when he gave you a weak thumbs up. “Let’s get inside.”

Easier said than done, but once the two of you were safe behind the closed door, you allowed your body the moment of rest it needed, sprawling out next to Daryl on the floor. He was still shivering, breaths shallow, and eyes barely open. Nope, nevermind. You were up immediately, searching for anything you could use. 

A dusty blanket, some dried meat, and a useless med kit were all you managed to scavenge but it was enough. At least for the moment. You wrapped Daryl up tightly inside the blanket after beating the dust from it outside. It would be enough to keep him warm. Your bag was situated beneath his feet, keeping the blood flow closer to his heart. And once you had his head on your lap, you set to work trying to get food and water into him. 

“You need to drink. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” You argued, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from his face. “You’re already in shock.”

“M’fine. You have it.” 

“If you’re not drinking any, then I’m—”

He groaned. “Fine.” He accepted a few sips before turning away his head. Satisfied, you drank a few of your own and placed the bottle next to your hip. You only had that bottle and one other. That was a worry for another time. 

“Do you think you can navigate us outta here when the sun comes up?” You asked. You tore off a small piece of meat and tapped his chin. He didn’t argue and accepted the offering, allowing you to lift his head slightly so he could swallow. 

“Damn sure gonna try.” His voice was raspy and tired, his eyes remaining closed. The incident and injury had left him drained. You wouldn’t be sleeping that night, that much was certain. 

“Alright. Then you need to rest.” With the meat wrapped and inside your bag, you settled against the wall, humming and running your fingers through his damp hair. 

The cabin was small, everything in one room. A stove on one side, a broken bed on the other. You distantly wondered why anyone would want to live such an isolated life with nothing but beavers and gators for company. 

Daryl groaned from your lap, your expression falling when you saw the pain etched into his sleeping face. There was no way the man would be fit to lead the two of you anywhere. You’d be lucky if he was even still alive when the sun rose. Your best bet was to stay put, keep him warm and hydrated until the others found you. Maybe you could go out and—no. You couldn’t leave him behind. 

How would the two of you get out of this one?

[toxicanonymity]

Hi!! Pls point me in the right direction if there’s been a similar ask already, but I’m recently obsessed with raider and also started my period today :// so I’m wondering how Joel would treat sweet pea on her period? Does he think it’s gross, does he still touch her on her period, does he let her have painkillers if she asks nicely, etc? Do you imagine her not even getting her period at all anymore from stress or malnourishment? Just a random thought I had :)

Raider Joel if you got your period

900 words, raider!Joel x f!reader.

SUMMARY/WARNINGS: this is mostly headcanon/kinda fluff I guess but brief angst and smut (period sex, oral m receiving), talk of sterility. Featuring Carter!

A/N: yeah, she doesn't have her period, from malnourishment or general conditions, like you mentioned, so if she got it I think it'd be a surprise to both of them. If this gets canonized I'll let y'all know but rn I don't wanna deal with tracking a period lol.

raider master list

Early one morning, when the sun is still rising, Joel has an arm wrapped over you and his hand creeps between your legs. He pulls you back into him, and his fingers slip between your thighs. You’re even wetter than usual, making him press his arousal into you with a quiet growl, and then, he can’t resist, he brings his finger to his mouth. Before he can taste it, he smells the familiar copper and his heart skips a beat. This all happens really fast: He throws the covers off you and sees a dark blotch smeared from when he pulled you into him. He backs up and lets you down onto your back. He says your name urgently, shakes your shoulder and hovers his cheek over your mouth to feel your breath.

As you begin to wake up, he remembers about periods and feels bad for making a big deal of it if that’s what’s going on. He cups your face and breathes a sigh of relief, but he still has to ask, “Are you hurt?”

You begin to stir awake. "You okay?" He asks. As you gain consciousness you register his wet finger on your cheek and put your hand over it. You feel how wet you are and squirm, then when you turn over to face him, you look down to reach down for the sheet and you see blood. It startles you, too. Then you register the familiar ache in your abdomen, and you never thought you’d *want* cramps but for some reason it makes you emotional to have it back.

You reflexively apologize, “Sorry, I think it’s just. . .it must be back,” you whisper. “My cycle.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay, right?” His heart rate is still elevated but he’s starting to calm down.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m sorry, it’s been gone for so-”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

–

I think he’d do his best to take care of you but would need some guidance. He’d probably ask you what you need. As much of a big tough guy as he is he does take his role seriously in taking care of you so I imagine he’d run you a bath and tell you to wait there. Maybe he’d send Carter to try to find some pads lmao.

-

Joel would jog down the hill to the stash house to get Carter. Joel would almost rather Carter just stay with you guys, but someone's still gotta keep an eye on things. Carter would still be waking up when Joel barges in asking for help. Carter's like, "easy, what's goin' on?"

"She's bleedin', I need you to-"

"What happened, is she okay??"

"No, yeah, she's got," Joel awkwardly gesticulate as he explains, "She's got her cycle"

"Her period?" Carter breathes a sigh of relief and chuckles. "made it sound like life or death, man. Ya know they're s'posed to get it every month right?"

"Can ya find her somethin'?"

“Joel, I dunno anything about-”

“Carter, please–can ya figure it out?”

Carter swallows and looks around. “Yeah. Sure, boss.”

(I guess this falls under "other duties as assigned" - taking down human scarecrows, finding menstrual products)

–

And yes, Joel has the drug connections and might offer you pills if you feel bad, or even if you don't. He might even try to help by washing the sheets while you're in the bath and Carter is out trying to find supplies.

–

Sexually, Joel has no aversion to your period. But maybe you’re still self conscious of the mess at first. He’s pounding you from behind, and you’ve just finished coming. He moans deeply as you squeeze him with an aftershock.

“Joel,” you look back at him.

He grunts and sighs as he buries his length in you, a mess spreading in his pubic hair and between your legs. He pants, “yeah sweet pea”

“Can i swallow it”

“Can ya —”

“Please?"

He sighs, wanting to slam into you and spill it already, but thinking, ok whatever. He pulls out, lays back on the bed, and you lick him clean before he cums and you swallow. Seeing you do it is such a turn-on, it might become a thing he wants you to do.

–

And then after, you suggest, “maybe I should swallow all the time from now on.”

His brow furrows “Why?”

“If I can get my period, i can probably get pregnant." It goes without saying neither of you would consider that a good things in this world.

“oh,” he mutters, then he’s pensive for a moment. “that ain’t gonna happen, sweet pea.”

“how do you know? are you ... fixed?”

He's short, but his tone is gentle. “yeah, it just ain’t gonna happen okay?” You feel bad for accidentally stumbling onto something from his past, but feel relieved at the revelation.

“okay,” you whisper as you put your head on his chest. “sorry.”

“’s'okay, baby. 's'a good thing, ain't it."

"Yeah," you sigh. "really good."

—

We don't know exactly why she doesn't have it, either malnourishment and/or stress conditions could be viable, I've tended to HC malnutrition but if she were to get it, maybe that'd be a sign of kind of settling into a (relative to the situation) normal-ish life there. At least she started picking dandelion leaves and stuff and foraging for mushrooms, and maybe they found some produce like with the apples and pumpkins HC.

—-

---

he's snipped that's why he can't

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️

[dairyfreenugget]

New PK gijinka for a new gijinka AU

Alt text + AU info under read more

- 🌷Patreon🌷- 💜Ko-fi💜 -

ID start: A doodle page depicting the Pale King from Hollow Knight as a human. The first doodle in the top left corner labelled "pre-hibernation" depicts him during this time as a king, with a youthful sharp face, long elf ears, he's looking to the side with a scowl. He wears his hair in a low ponytail, with a black, spiked crown atop his head. The next two doodles depict him after the Hallownest's collapse, as an older man with a large X shaped scar on his face that cuts the left side of his lips, exposing his teeth and gums, and a V shaped notch in his left ear. He wears his hair in a messy bun and wears a hood and a shirt underneath with a popped up collar. He looks down and to the side, looking far more tired and guilty than his younger self. The second of the two doodles depicting his older self has his hood up, casting the majority of his face in a shadow. End ID.

PK is alive or reborn for the 3rd time and after the fall of his kingdom he conceals his identity out of shame

He travels the abandoned ruins of his kingdom and meets survivors, and through this he meets Hollow when he arrives in dirtmouth. Shocked to see them alive and speaking and so clearly *not hollow* he pretty much runs away the first time they see each other. He later stumbles onto them again after having some time to sit on this revelation and decides to walk ul to them to apologise for his previous behaviour. They don't seem to recognise him, which he decides is for the best and doesn't reveal himself

He ends up settling down near dirtmouth and so the two continuously stumble on each other and start bonding and getting to know one another through these sporadic meetings. At some point the topic lands on family and Hollow says their parents never loved them, their mother disappeared and their father used them and never thought anything more of them than a tool. Obviously it stings and PK tries to protest, saying that every parent loves their child, which turns into a small argument until Hollow snaps with tears in their eyes that he doesn't known their parents. They're both self-centred cowards who never loved them. Then adds their father is dead anyway and it's probably for the best. PK backs off and apologises quietly for pressing while Hollow quietly sobs. He then sits down next to them and quietly asks if they have any other family, and they mention their sister who visits them occassionaly but not that often now that they've recovered, she's very busy, but it's okay because the people of dirtmouth are nice and help take care of them. PK can see it's *not* okay but doesn't press it, he already made them upset and he doesn't want to do it again. They ask about his family and he gives some vague answer about an ex-wife and children. Still dunno if Ghost is alive here

Months pass by and ironically enough the two develop a very mentor/student and then father/child kind of relationship (which probably eats at PK and will be such a huge shock for Hollow when they find out his identity)

Hollow kind of sucks at keeping their wounds and bandages clean so when PK smells the infection on them he forces them to sit down as he cleans their wounds, reapplies sterile bandaging and gives them medicine, all the while chastising them for not taking care of themself. Hollow sheepishly admits they don't know how and were too nervous to ask for help, but then also jokingly calls PK dad when he keeps fretting. In a sort of "Okay, okay, I get it, DAD" way. Which makes him freeze and for a one terrifying second he thinks *they know* before realising he's just fucking stupid and it was a joke. But Hollow remembered that one discussion they had and how he brought up having children in the past so they think they made a social blunder and just give him that sheepish look.

"Ah...is- is that a sore spot? I'm sorry—"

"No, no, it's- it's okay, kid. I just...wasn't expecting that."

So they continue to bond over the months and PK becomes a parental figure to Hollow, which he feels so damn guilty about and thinks they'd hate him even more if they ever find out the truth

Any time they bring up how he always wears that hood and covers his face he tries to wiggle out of actually answering it, but knows his time is running out

I'm thinking Hollow finds out in some sort of situation where they end up hurt or in danger. Dunno how it happens but I did imagine the scene after that, where Hollow's in shock and denial and PK tries to free them from the ropes they found themself in but they keep thrashing so he finally yells at them to stop moving or they'll hurt themself, clearly very worried for them. So they do and they allow him to free them and take them to his home where he patches them up, all the while they're in complete shellshock

Hours later when the atmosphere cleared up a little PK gets them something to eat, all the while not being able to look them in the face, and says that he understands if they hate him and want nothing to do with him after this, but to just stay and let him take care of them until they recover. Then they can leave and never see him again.

Hollow just eats in silence until they finally get the courage to ask about that conversation from months ago, asking if this is why he was so insistent on their father loving them.

"I...That...It.....my— my feelings...don't really... matter, if I never showed them anyway, if I...when I hurt you despite them."

OH and obviously Hollow starts opening up more and more to him the more they bond and eventually they just cry to him how they don't understand why they still love their parents despite all the hurt they've caused them, how they want to hate them because it'd be so much easier to, and all PK can do is just hold them and let them cry into his shoulder as guilt just eats him up inside

[emp-t-man]

okay here’s the thing— i don’t think hilbert actually killed fourier and rhea, and here’s why:

yes. he did kill lambert and hui. we know that it’s because command insisted that he continue the human decima trials after fisher’s death, and since neither lambert nor hui had received the physical and immune system training that he had gone through, their bodies weren’t able to fight it off. but fourier… she didn’t die from the virus. she disappeared. the day after she was able to figure out how to wire the vx3 into lovelace’s escape shuttle. they never found a body. and rhea? she was deactivated only three hours before running the final calculations. and lovelace was right, these were definitely not coincidences. someone didn’t want them to leave the hephaestus. but why would hilbert want them to stay? there was no reason he needed lovelace alive. the door didn’t exist during that mission, and so hilbert had no reason to believe that command wouldn’t simply provide him with more subjects after this one was met with failure. hilbert himself wanted to get off the station and go home! he says so in episode thirty-one, where he admitted to contacting command fifty days before she left and suggesting that they terminate the mission! there was no logical reason for hilbert to resort to murdering in cold blood in order to keep lovelace on that station.

but.

there is someone else that would resort to such an extreme just to keep the hephaestus crew from returning to earth. someone who, several years later, was able to bend the laws of time and space to their will by creating a loop of an entire day just to ensure something would keep them in the same place.

“doug, are you seriously suggesting that the aliens were miraculously able to remove two entire people from existence without a trace?” you bet your ass i am.

here’s the thing: these guys are able to do pretty much anything they want. they’ve created human duplicates, they’ve created time loops, they use a god damn wormhole to transport humans to a seemingly entirely different plane of existence. if someone were to figure out a way to do something they didn’t like, they could very easily just,, make them disappear! just like lovelace assumed it was for hilbert, it was a last resort for them, and last resorts make people get sloppy!

another thing that makes me think hilbert wasn’t behind this in particular? lovelace stated in her logs that command stopped responding to their calls months before the day she died. just like cutter seemingly stopped responding to minkowski’s call for help four months before he arrived on the station. he was only able to actually make it to the hephaestus after eiffel and bob have their little heart to whatever-the-hell-bob-has. that also does not sound like a coincidence to me.

the aliens causing fourier and rhea to disappear also makes sense from a learning standpoint. after they made them go away, lovelace still managed to make it off the station, even if she died shortly after. having a little run-in with the indomitable human spirit like that would make sense as to why they would elect to simply have time repeat itself until someone did something stupid rather than only dwindling their recourses and letting them continue.

as we learned from kepler, this was far from the first time the aliens had done something to interfere with a hephaestus mission in order to attempt to start their process. why would they try so hard during zhang’s (and possibly several others’) mission and leave the crew entirely alone during lovelace’s, just to try and stir the pot again during minkowski’s run?

i dunno, it’s just a theory (a space theory), but i think it would make a lot more sense as to why lovelace’s mission went the way it did rather than simply “hilbert went crazy and pulled a wadsworth on everyone”

[ms-cartoon]

Reason’s why I gradually started to hate Stolas from Helluva Boss

So some time ago there was a friend that asked me why I hated Stolas so much. At that time, I couldn’t think of a valid reason, mostly because it was just very few reasons. To them, those reasons weren’t valid enough. This was back when episode 2 season 1 was uploaded, but now that we’re already in season two and we’re about to get our 4th episode, HB has now given me PLENTY of reasons to despise Stolas and call him a bad character. So allow me to make a list. I can go from the first to the latest episode;

EP 1 S1, Murder Family

-- Stolas was watching Blitzo in a scuffle through his bath bubbles, which means he knew Blitzo was in danger, but still decided on calling him at the worst time! “Oh, when isn’t it a bad time, Blitzy~~~?” Umm, I dunno.... Maybe when some crazy psychopath is NOT chasing him with a gun!!! Did he even consider that he would’ve gotten Blitzo killed, and all just to make some stupid deal???  And besides, from what I’ve seen in episode 6 (which I’ll get into later) Stolas was so upset that Blitzo and the rest of IMP got caught by humans, he dropped an f-bomb. And now looking back in ep 1, he doesn’t even seem to care when Blitzo is chased by humans. If getting in trouble on earth like that is such a big deal, why couldn’t Stolas just wait to talk with Blitzo until after his job was done? 

-- Speaking of said deal, Stolas agreed that he would let Blitzo keep the book in exchange for taking it back to take care of whatever was necessary and agreeing to spend one night each month having sex with him.

Alright, there are two things wrong with this. So, first off... Stolas decided on making a deal like this while seemingly knowing fully well Blitzo didn’t want anything to do with him. He knows how uncomfortable Blitzo is around him, about how disgusted and disturbed he is by his flirting but will still make Blitzo agree to this deal because he’s just that horny for him, regardless of how creeped out Blitzo’s is. And he knows Blitzo didn’t have much of a choice in that moment because, well he’s stuck in a predicament while on the phone with Stolas. I guess he might as well just go ahead and make it a deal so he could get the call over with (Or just frikin hang up on him). And also because Blitzo really needs the book to make it to the living world to finish his job.

.....And we’re supposed to believe Stolas actually “cares” for Blitzo?

And here’s the second problem; Looking back on it, this deal is completely pointless now!!! As it turns out, the grimoire isn’t the only access to the living world. In episode 1 of season 2, it’s revealed that there are magical crystals that demons could use to appear on earth anytime and any place they want. So in a way, Blitzo DID have a choice. He could’ve used those Asmodean crystals to go to the living world to continue his business. And sure, maybe it wouldn’t be that easy for him to get his hands on one. But even if that were the case, why not hire someone who does have Asmodean crystals?? Like - I dunno... a succubi perhaps???

Heh! No wonder Verosika and her peers we’re able to travel to earth so easily. Asmodean crystals are willingly given to succubi, which means that they also can go to Earth anytime they want with no issue. Blitzo could’ve at least just hired a succubus or something to help him have access to the living world. Why not do that, instead of having to agree to this deal where you have to have to continuously give the book back and get laid on the same night with a horned-up demon prince, especially when you don’t want to, which would only make your job harder than easier???

(And before some of you bring this up if you’re gonna, I know Blitzo has no room to feel uncomfortable with Stolas making advances towards him since that was kinda his fault. HE was the one that came onto him and decided to go through with sleeping with him outta pity. Even if it was to just to distract him so he could steal the book and leave, he still did it. And now that it happened, he has Stolas continuously flirting with him. I only brought up that Blitzo was feeling uncomfortable about it because that’s what the show made it seem like to us at that time. It wasn’t even hinted that Blitzo was the first to make a move. They just totally retconned that fact. I’m only just stating these based off of how I saw it at the time the episodes were aired.)

My whole point about this is, Stolas is pretty much taking advantage of Blitzo, manipulating him into agreeing to this deal, knowing full well that Blitzo (kinda) doesn’t have any choice in the matter since it would cost him to keep his business going and Stolas could drop this deal and never let Blitzo keep the book. 

 -- Calling Blitzo “My little Imp”. It’s not cute...

-- Him describing how he’ll screw Blitzo (eg. every time his words are bleeped out). This was supposed to be comedic, and while I did smile slightly the first time it happened, all it did was make me feel awkward and disturbed. Those were just the start of my disdain for Stolas. Believe me, it doesn’t end there. So, moving on....

EP 2 S1, Loo Loo Land

-- “I can not believe you slept with an imp! IN OUR F*CKING BED!!!”

“It was unexpected! I didn’t have time to book for a motel.”

Dude - what do you mean it was unexpected? That makes no sense, especially now that we learned you invited Blitzo into your room instead of having him kicked out. Even when he tried to make advances toward you, you still could’ve prevented that from happening. You had the full authority to make him stop and kick him out. I don’t care how drunk you were when it happen. And you didn’t have time for a motel?? More like you weren’t planning on it!! And besides, you’re a demon prince!! I’m pretty sure you could’ve opened up a portal to teleport into another location when you wanted.  All this man is doing making excuses to cover his feathers and they’re not even valid!!

-- Stolas, as I may have established more than a few times already, is a terrible father!! There are a few reasons for this, but one of them being that he doesn’t listen to his daughter. And it’s almost sad, because he’s actually trying to bond with her (sorta). He suggested that he and Octavia go to Loo Loo Land because she liked it when she was a kid. But she’s 17 and doesn’t really care for that anymore, so she tells him no. But he still insists on taking her there, not even hearing her out!

“Let’s go to Loo Loo Land!”

“I’d rather kill myself.”

“That’s the spirit, anything better than staying in this house. Let’s go!”

It’s like he completely brushed off what she was telling him!! I don’t know if this was just for comedic effect or not, but this would count as a good example of Stolas being a bad father as he doesn’t listen to his daughter and is inconsiderate of her feelings.

-- Notices that his imp butler is injured (due to Stella’s rage) and doesn’t even bat an eye at it. Once again, probably for comedic effect, but this just goes to show how non-caring Stolas is of the imp race. The only reason why Blitzo is an exception is because he’s good at sex.

-- Didn’t Stolas just say, “Why don’t we go to Loo Loo Land? Just the TWO OF US?” Which would only imply that he intended to spend some time only with his daughter and nobody else?? Well, he just lied straight to her face!

-- The so-called Demon Prince wants to arrange for security for him and his daughter. He knows damn well he don’t need no security, but Blitzo is the one he decides to call for this arrangement. I think we all know why he really called him specifically.

-- “We’re rich and our hot.”

Referring to your 17-year-old daughter as “hot”. Can’t leave that outta my Stolas sh*t list. Not really something you should say in front of her. Or especially about her.

-- “I’m going to call the only man who can f*ck me.” 

“Hello my big-d*cked Blitzy~~”

Again, not something you should say in front of your daughter!!!

-- Y’all I can’t stress this enough, but this is one of his main issues. The whole time he’s supposed to be spending time with Octavia and putting his attention on her, he’s flirting with Blitzo. Making sexual remarks at him, touching him, trying to get his attention while he’s working, “Blitzy” this, “Blitzy” that, “Blitzy” blah blah blah. Not only is he hardly paying attention to her, he’s doing all of this IN FRONT OF HER!! Not even noticing her grudging reactions or bitter behavior! It’s like he thinks she’s totally okay with her father being a flirt in public, especially with the man he cheated with on her mother.

-- Stolas can’t tell the difference between tears of joy and tears of terror with his daughter’s reaction to Robo Fizz.

-- Is saved by Moxxie and Millie, even though he didn’t need to be, and expects to be body-guarded like he’s a damsel in distress.

-- “Where’s Blitzy? He’s my night and shining armor! Not you... little-o ones!”

Bro-? Shut up and go find your daughter!

-- Doesn’t realize Octavia is feeling bad until she’s crying about it.

-- Makes excuses for his actions, but the show is gonna go ahead and make Octavia forgive him and just be worried about him leaving her so we could be okay with his actions and move on.

-- Decides now he wants to go ahead to turn somebody into stone even though he could’ve done it with a flick of a wrist tons of times before. I know he invited Blitzo to be his bodyguard and he was already doing most of the work, but he only invited him just to have him around and be a flirt like he always is. He really didn’t care about Blitzo protecting him. So yeah, he still could’ve protected himself and his daughter at least once before now.

Ep 5 S1, Harvest Moon Festival

-- Father of the Year here is gonna go right back to continuing his affair with Blitzo!!! That whole conversation between him and his daughter was just in one ear and out the other because the writers are just so desperate to want this ship to happen. And we just HAVE to have fanservice.

-- “My Grimoire shouldn’t be lent out to itty bitty imps, like yourself.”

Then maybe you could... I dunno... Drop the deal and stop exchanging the book????

He mentions that his grimoire is oh so important as if it shouldn’t be in the hands of just anyone, but has no problem willingly giving it Blitzo because he’s just that down and dirty. What does he even need that book for anyway??? We rarely see him use it!! When he does have it, he’s mostly just holding it... and that’s it. And we only see him use it for magic that one time at the festival. He doesn’t read it or even study it. If this book is so valuable to you sir, then ACT LIKE IT!! He could’ve used it as a study guide for Octavia, who’s supposed to be the next heir to the throne. If he’s not even gonna use it for himself, he could teach his daughter how to use it or cast spells with it. And no - a stupid Instagram post is NOT gonna cut it (especially when it’s not even canon).

-- Uses Blitzo’s horns to put out a cigar.... not cool.

-- Stolas invites Blitzo to the harvest moon festival for no reason other than to see him there and flirt with him. He says that it will be fun, as if the last time he invited Blitzo somewhere with him was a blast, but nobody was having fun but him. And the whole idea was for him to spend time with his frikin daughter!!

-- The whole time Stolas is talking to Blitzo, it doesn’t even seem like he’s flirting or being cute with him. He’s more or less just mocking him. (eg. pinching his cheeks and using his horns to put out a cigar.) Seriously, why does everyone act like this character is such a saint and is just as sweet as Charlie from hazbin?? He’s frikin awful!! He doesn’t care in the slightest about imps! He’s not even nice to Moxxie or Millie and he hires imps as his servants/slaves.

-- Don’t get me wrong, if y’all wanna love Stolas, then by all means, frikin ADORE HIM!! I don’t want to offend or insult anybody who does like him. But there is no way you can look passed all the bullsh*t he pulls and just act like he’s so sweet. Viv says that Stolas is flawed and is trying to get better and that’s how we’re supposed to see it. But all I see is a character being a selfish douche and staying a selfish douche while acting like the victim of a heinous crime and trying too hard to make us feel bad for him simply by “caring” about his daughter even though he neglects her and pretending he genuinely loved Blitzo all along and simply wants love from him too, even when he doesn’t deserve it because all he ever did was manipulate him and take advantage of him, seeing him as a sex toy and not a person with feelings! And what pisses me off about this is that he rarely gets reprimanded for his actions. When he does, he’ll start crying while feeling bad for himself and the show tries to make us feel bad for him. What’s worse about this is that he never learns either!! For real though, no matter how bad Stolas’s character is, most people in the fandom won’t even take the time to realize it or will probably look past it, as long as Stolas gets his happy ending with Blitzo. Like I said, I don’t wanna offend anyone, but if y’all think the relationship is anything along the lines of healthy or innocent, then your definition of love must be twisted.

-- “I hereby welcome you all to another year of celebrating the spoils of your labor.”

I’m not gonna hear this from a dude who uses his imp servant as a stress ball.

-- Lol! Bro just keeps stealing the microphone from Wally and interrupting him.

-- He reads a book about how to f*ck imps at dinner while his daughter is still at the table. And no, it doesn’t matter if she didn’t notice, it’s still not very appropriate.

Ep 6 S1, Truth Seekers

-- Stolas only had like less than a few seconds of screen time. He might as well not even show up.

-- Jumps in to save Blitzo and the others. That’s good, but then he adds on “My Impish little plaything” Reminding us that he sees Blitzo as a sex toy.

-- “Are you little creatures not being careful. If you get in trouble, then I get in trouble! We don’t want that, do we?”

Then maybe you shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to save them???? I mean - we all know you we’re watching Blitzo the entire time like a damn stalker. And besides, YOU’RE the one who agreed to lend them the book. If you’re so worried about them getting in trouble, then you could just FORGET about the deal so they could figure out another way to travel to earth, they could get in trouble on their own, and it wouldn’t be your problem anymore! And if you were just gonna get that irritable about it, why didn’t you jump in to try and save Blitzo the first time he almost got killed on earth.

-- Why doesn’t he go ahead and kill the agents?? Why would he let them live?? Since you don’t want to get in trouble so badly, wouldn’t it be necessary for you to kill them. I didn’t think that DEMON PRINCE would be this big of a softie.

-- Bro uses his hands to open up a portal..... (why does he need his book again?)

-- Expected a “thank you” from Blitzo for saving him. This dude’s life was in jeopardy just now, and you’re asking for sex? Very appropriate of you sir. And why is Blitzo reciprocating this lust for him all of a sudden??? The entire season, all he’s ever done was reject Stolas, back-talking him, and showing him attitude. He responded to his constant flirtatious remarks with disgust. He didn’t even like him and was uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping with him just to keep the book. And now he’s suddenly getting turned on??

Obviously, this scene was only written in this episode by Viv as an excuse for more Stolitz fanservice. 

EP 7 S1, Ozzies

-- Stolas is feeling all sad and lonely, watching some corny soap opera while relating to the fact that the guy he has feelings doesn’t love him back...... Honey, ask me if I care. Blitzo would always tell you to f*ck off and you would respond with giggles and mockery. You should already know how uncomfortable he feels about you and most of the time, you don’t even care. What’s with the sudden depression??

-- Speaking of that, why does he suddenly have genuine feelings for Blitzo anyway?? You can’t tell me that he’s just now starting to love him out of the blue. You can’t even tell me he loved him at all this entire time!! The only emotion he’s ever had about Blitzo was nothing but pure lust!! He simply just wanted his d*ck. Not to mention he would look down on him like he does all the other imps.

-- The whole time during their date, Stolas is trying to converse with Blitzo, which is honestly surprising since the only time he ever talks to him is when he’s being a flirt and harassing him. You’d think I’d actually applaud him for that, except I can’t. Cuz, once again, where did this come from??? We didn’t get to see no type of development with Stolas at all. We didn’t get any episode of him slowly progressing to fall in love with Blitzo. Just more lust talk getting turned on.

-- How did Stolas not realize Asmodeus owned Ozzie’s? I think the title on it’s own should’ve implied as much. And besides, he should know that Asmodeus is a demon that represents lust and they’re in the lust ring.

-- Stolas sees Blitzo is pretty much getting laughed at and humiliated during the whole musical number and does nothing about it. Well, Blitzo kinda had it coming for not keeping his mouth shut and also spying on Moxxie and Millie, but I’m just proving a point that Stolas doesn’t even care about Blitzo like we’re supposed to think. He even hides behind his menu after getting called out by Asmodeus.  We are supposed to feel bad for him here right?? Because the writers are just showing me he doesn’t deserve it.

-- While we’re on that subject, why is he hiding behind his menu? Why is he feeling embarrassed about being seen with Blitzo and Ozzie telling everyone his business about it?? This was NOT the only time he was seen in public with Blitzo!! There was episode 2 at Loo Loo Land and episode 5 at the festival, and he openly flirted with Blitzo in public in BOTH of those episodes!!! Hell, he was holding Blitzo’s hand in front of that guard and the other demons waiting in line!! He was sitting at a table in the open where one or two people could’ve taken a glance at him talking to Blitzo!!! He has NO RIGHT to feel humiliated about getting laid with him! 

-- Trying his best to comfort Blitzo by holding his hand, talking to him, and inviting him in his home. He thinks that now would be the best time to cuddle with him after he tried to hide away from being seen with Blitzo. I don’t care what none of the fans say, Blitzo had every right to turn down Stolas and call him out on his bullsh*t. Most fans would say something like “NOO BLITZO!! DON’T BE LIKE THAT!!! STOLAS DOES CARE!! HE DOES LOVE YOU!!” Where the hell was this “love” you speak of the first few episodes these two were seen together??? No amount of cute nicknames, flirtatious remarks, and nightstands are ever going to sell the fact Stolas loved Blitzo.

-- He sits on his porch and starts to cry. We’re meant to feel bad and pity him, but all I’m doing is rolling my eyes.

EP 1 S2, The Circus

-- I don’t care how cute, uwu, or innocent they try to make little Stolas. Nothing in the world is ever going to make me change how I feel about him. He could be under three years old. Viv is pretty much just trying to force cutesy wutsey stuff onto the audience so we could side with Stolas and feel bad for him. All the writers are trying to do at this point is make excuses for his actions and use this whole episode to say Stolas had every right to cheat on Stella and that he actually really loved Blitzo when he really didn’t.

-- It makes no sense that Blitzo and Stolas are around the same age anyway. I don’t fully understand how the whole age and birth thing works with demons in hell, but first off, Blitzo was initially supposed to be in his twenties, meanwhile, Stolas has lived for a LONG A** TIME. Like he was probably born in 4000 BC. He still would’ve been an adult even before the time Blitzo was born. But now they retconned it to Stolas being the same age as Blitzo and them meeting as children just so Viv could force this ship to happen.

--  No way in hell he fell in love with Blitzo at first sight. Viv and writers are really trying too hard to make this childhood friendship cute.

-- Goes along with Blitzo’s game to steal everything in the mansion and completely falls for his trick (did he ever get grounded for that?). 

-- Instead of having Blitzo kicked out because he should be nothing but a stranger to him at this point, he instead invites him to his room so the two can... catch up. Did Stolas ever find out about what Blitzo did when they were children?? If so, then why are you even being nice to this guy?? You cannot be that down and dirty for him.

-- It has been frikin TWENTY-FIVE YEARS since the last time these two have seen each other. Why’re they talkin’ like they’re old friends? They had that one playdate and never saw each other ever again. If anything, I don’t even think they should remember each other.

-- “I know it’s been a long time, but I have a very good memory.”

“What are you doing? I don’t even remember you’re name.”

“Wait, didn’t your name end in an “O”? I remember...”

Oh my god- DO YOU REMEMBER HIM OR NOT!!!???

-- We jump into this softcore scene way too fast. Kinda goes to show you how rushed this show is.

-- For a demon so powerful with standards, he seems to have no problem being submissive and letting Blitzo seduce him. Stolas is shown to be uncomfortable, continuously walking away from Blitzo when he's pursued and I'm sitting here like....you could just...stop him. Why do you keep running away from him when you can throw him out the window?? He's acting like some shy teenage girl who's about to have sex for the first time but secretly craves it and I couldn't help but cringe!! And the first time he did it was with his wife, which apparently wasn't as good. Like I said, I really don't care how drunk he was at that time. He is such an idiot.

-- These two haven’t seen or talked to each other in over twenty years, but suddenly this kinky owl is all for sleeping with him because he’s drunk and got bit in the neck. 

-- “It means so much that the one who wants me is my first-ever friend~~~”

First off, ew.... Second off, you two were never friends. You met him once, had that one playdate, and never saw each other again until now in your thirties.

-- Back in the second episode of the first season, when Stella found out about the affair, she confronted him about it and he tried to appease her and being submissive, saying that what happened with Blitzo was unexpected and making excuses, all the while being a little nervous at her rage. But in THIS episode, Stolas has the balls to rub it in Stella’s face and laugh, marking the affair as the first action of the divorce.

-- Even though he brought up said divorce, for some reason, these two are still living in the same house. Not even divorced yet!! What was the point in you laughing at her face like that if you weren’t even gonna go along with it??

-- He should’ve known that his book was stolen by the time Blitzo left! This means he should’ve realized that Blitzo only slept the night with him to take it and leave. Why are you even catching feelings for this dude?? He manipulated you twice!!!

-- Literally, screw this musical number....

-- Sings, “Was what we had all a comfortable lie?” or something like that. Basically, he’s saying, “Was your love for me all a lie?” Was it all a lie??? He certainly wasn’t playing hard-to-get, dumbass!! Blitzo was shown multiple times to be disgusted with you! He didn’t love you at all, and I’m sure you knew that!

-- Reads about Asmodean crystals. Possibly planning to give it to Blitzo so he could drop the deal. But he never does.

-- “The only reason why I put up with your constant cruelty was for that girl (Octavia) to live a normal life.”

Says the guy who had an affair and continues the affair, making the drama in his family much worse than it already was. What was the point in you two keeping up an image for Via? You already fight in front of her and that was bad enough. It should’ve been obvious to her from the get-go that you to hated each other. It doesn’t even seem like she cares at all about the divorce after this episode, so this could’ve been done a long time ago.

-- Decides NOW he wants a divorce even though it should’ve been done already.

EP 2 S2, Seeing Stars (are they even trying with these titles)

-- Makes a promise about something to his daughter and breaks it.

-- Doesn’t take the time to listen to Octavia when she’s trying to talk to him and instead wants to continue bickering with Stella over the phone like they’re a couple of middle-school ex-lovers. I mean, he could just hang up on her. He probably never even wanted to talk to her anyway.

-- “Via, can we talk about this later? Your mother is being a real B-I-T-C-H.”

For the third damn time... NOT SOMETHING YOU SAY FRONT OF YOUR DAUGHTER!

-- Didn’t realize Octavia was gone until he was called about it and even somewhat blamed IMP for her taking the book and leaving instead of taking responsibility since he is the father and wasn’t paying attention to her. If I had to assume, he was probably still on the phone with Stella at the time and only decided to hang up because Blitzo was calling him, not when his daughter is trying to grab his attention.

-- Has the ability to turn into a human, but is useless without his book when it comes to other magic which sounds like total bullsh*t. He can turn people into stone, make portals, use telekinesis, fly, and turn into a giant bird demon. All WITHOUT a grimoire. He even says he can’t remember a spell for turning other demons into a human, but didn’t he say “I have a very good memory.” back in episode 6? Stolas is only useless when the plot wants him to be.

-- The entire episode, he spends more time with Blitzo and helping him with his issues instead of trying to look for his daughter. She had the possibility of getting into danger, but he’s more concerned with his friend with benefits and what he got going on? Some father.....

-- Is back... to flirting... with Blitzo. Clearly, he didn’t learn a damn thing in the last season. What exactly was he even singing about in the last episode?? They didn’t even talk anything out after the whole Ozzie’s incident!! And of course, the writers are gonna have Blitzo get all flustered and gain feelings for Stolas because they and the fans want this ship to happen soo badly.

-- When Blitzo is in danger, what’s the one thing the powerful demon prince does to save him?

-- Decides NOW to continue looking for Octavia?? Literally, f*ck off!

-- Octavia is forced to forgive Stolas despite his selfish behavior for the second time. Because neglecting your daughter, whether it be for your ex-lover or your walking booty call, is just very forgiving.

-- Screw this happy a** ending...

That’s pretty much the gist of why I think Stolas is a terrible character and why I hate him. I haven’t forgotten the recent episode that was just uploaded a couple of days ago. Believe me, that will be saved for another post I’ll be making soon.

So yeah, Stolas is a terrible character, a terrible person, and a terrible father. I don’t care how innocent or pitiful Viv or Adam make him out to be. At this point, all they’re doing is making excuses for his actions, making every other character around him terrible to make him look good, and forcing the Stolitz ship to happen without any progress or build-up. And God forbid Stolas is ever reprimanded for his actions! If he does, the writers will just butcher that in a way where Stolas is the victim and making him feel all bad for himself while not taking responsibility. Is this enough for you, anon???? I hope so, cuz at this point, it’s enough said.

[majimasleftasscheek]

Hi, im very sorry if this has already been answered or established somewhere else but im curious, with your Kazumaji stuff, around what time did they start dating (i.e. after the events of Yakuza 0 and all that) and how?

tbh, I dunno!

I don't really have an established date for that cuz sometimes I'm like man they'd be really cute during y0 and then other times I set it between post y0 and the beginning of y1. The latest they would start me thinks is some months after the events of y1 but in general it sorta depends on how I'm feeling and what silly scenarios play in my head

ideas under the cut tho 👀

if we're talking y0: I like to think Kiryu has to go to Sotenbori for some reason, be it business or he's there with Nishiki for some partying. he sees Majima at the Grand being depressed and is like "damn girl those bags under your eyes makes my dick go *boing sound effect*" and asks him out 🥺 Kiryu gets rejected immediately cuz Majima's in this cycle of 'I deserve nothing but pain and suffering' but Kiryu can't read the room so he is persistently showing up at the Grand despite Majima very obviously wanting to kick his ass. eventually he relents and goes on cute™ dates with Kiryu and realizes oof maybe human intimacy be kinda gucci

if between y0 and y1: Majima's fresh in his mad dog era starting shit with people just to be annoying and Kiryu's one of his targets mainly due to the events of y0. he's kinda like "lol this goober really did some important plot stuff, huh?" and his curiosity gets the better of him because Kiryu is an enigma who eats bugs and Majima cannot suppress his need to get some sense of understanding on this weirdo. in this timeline, it's more one-sided affection from Majima that comes in the form of stabbing while Kiryu is desperately trying to fight the gay allegations and failing. eventually he caves but it's a sorta unofficial, on and off thing that Kiryu doesn't really know how to evaluate for himself. Majima doesn't really care what they are since he's high on life atm and has a cute dude with big boobs on his arm

if during y1: literally just everything Majima Everywhere. Goromi. GOROMI 😩💦 Kiryu is all: I LIKE PUSSY but everyone's like okay big man then why's Majima pole dancing for you huh. the two braincells he has start to click and he realizes maybe Majima wants to hold hands or something unthinkable like that. ngl I like to think Kiryu's thing for Yumi is like a demisexual bi thing where he's like, I do love her but she don't zap my brain quite like the bowlcut freak who knows how to punch me real good and it becomes sorta his personal introspective journey during this time. Majima is also floating in the space of am I doing this for his benefit cuz "training" or am I falling for this dork. he's pretty sad about it cuz of the Saejima reminder vibes but eventually Kiryu falls into his own person that Majima really meshes with and the two of them struggle to actually voice how they feel all the while their pants are down in some dirty alley

if after y1: (going to insert shit from a fic I'm working on) Kiryu's absolutely devastated with what happened in the Millennium Tower + now having to take care of Haruka that he's shut himself off from everyone and everything other than doing the bare minimum to live. in comes Majima being a menace like yo you can't like, let a child parent herself you gotta get outta this slump and Kiryu's all fuck you stop breaking into my house. so it's a long pain in the ass process to help Kiryu deal with his grief while Majima keeps unintentionally making googoo eyes at him and both of them are like boy I sure hope this doesn't awaken anything within me. there's also a lotta dadjima stuff going on and Kiryu's like wowie zowie so you do have a heart and Majima's like no way loser while being just 😳👉👈

[kayakoto-enterprises]

🛌 - do you and your f/o sleep in the same bed? if you do, do you have a favorite and least favorite thing about sleeping together?

🎇 - do you and your f/o have a favorite holiday to celebrate together? what is it? do you have different holidays you like celebrating?

🥧 - have you and your f/o tried to bake something together? how did it go? what did you make?

Hai hai wrennnn I'm on lunch break so lemme run through these <3. Thank you!

🛏: Julianne initially bought a bigger bed. She was already hoping she'd settle in with someone while she stayed in Woodbrook. Her persuing Sam only came after they developed a friendly acquaintanceship so in terms of any sleeping arrangements, Julianne was more than ready.

SINGLE METAL BED FRAME😭😭😭 Initially Sam and Julianne just sleep on the floor or couch together because there's no way THAT will accomodate them both so they prefer sleeping over at Julianne's apartment. I dunno. Even into the relationship, Sam has the mindset that they'll eventually end up as an expendature she can move on from. But sometimes you just get so numb and powerless you buy another metal bedframe to connect the other to and she can finally sleep over at your house more.

I get so emotional over beds and sleeping arrangements!! It circles back to Stuffed Animal where Lesley doesn't need to sleep since she's already a doll and The Illustrator does. It's more on tapping into each other's humanity and recognizing that living beings need adequate rest and a comfortable bed to sleep in..for House Guest it's improving those living conditions or having set them already because you care enough for your partner to rest well. Julianne didn't plan on dating Sam on day one but it's probably coinscidence and a pattern she got a bigger bed not knowing how big her partner will be eventually.

Ahh them sleepin together is super comfortable but they have pet peeves about how the other sleeps. Julianne is an active dreamer and squirms, rolls, kicks, or bumps in her sleep. She also sometimes just Doesn't Sleep and starts kneading on Sam's arm. It's especially annoying when they both have work the next day and one ends up with a sore arm and one's barely alive at 2 pm.

Sam is Perpetually Warm and it's great when it's fall or it's winter but it's Bad during the Summer especially around June (for. Reasons.) Around that time she's extra physical and handsy so Julianne who's usually a hot sleeper finds it a bit annoying. Sam also hogs the blankets which would be fine most times but it's bad timing after exercise or during the winter. They both enjoy everything else so nothing here is that big of a deal.

🎆: Ohhh it's between Christmas and this springtime fair Woodbrook hosts!! Christmas reminds Julianne of her home since they like to celebrate Christmas big, and she's just lucky to celebrate Christmas with someone on her first year!! Let alone her crush!! As for the fair, in the Philippines, schools have spring fairs from February to March. One that's prominent is the Antipolo Fair I attend quite often so Woodbrook having a smaller scale version would be fun. I imagine in that one month Sam and Julianne didn't talk, it happened just outside Julianne's apartment. She people-watches from her window, her eyes obviously searching for someone. In the next year they go together as a date!!

🥧: I used to bake a lot during the pandemic lockdown so I think Julianne likes baking but now just doesn't have time. She bakes pies, cakes, some local recipes, but she mostly bakes cookies for Sam during the pining stage. It's fairly easy to do in between work and you can keep the batter in the fridge for days plus it keeps its shape in the oven when refridgerated. They have tried making sourdough together early into the relationship after Julianne attempts it and it goes awry. It's another fic idea simmering because sourdough is such a hard bread to bake and I get intimidated by most bread recipes. I dunno. Maybe it means something somewhere hehe

[riewritten]

what do you think Erwin considers himself that he sucks at but at the same time he enjoys doing it? suddenly i thought of tiktoks that are like "having a hobby you're bad at is okay". do you have any hobbies you consider yourself not good at too?

tbh i think the "bad" and "good" stuffs are all social constructs, but i'm still struggling with crocheting just bc i think i suck but at the same time i know that's something i do for relax. still sometimes i can't afford to think that way??? do you have the same problem and have you overcome it? i have no idea if this is a prompt or just me asking you stuffs.

do you often project what you're thinking into your writing and visual arts and any other form of art?

oh my god this is getting nowhere 🥲🥲 thank you for reading Rie. have a good day!!!

THE BEST BIRTHDAY

ERWIN SMITH X GEN NEUTRAL!READER

TAGS: fluff, slice of life, kissing, comfort, office romance AU, idiots in love, insecurities, and AAAA HAPPEE BIRTHDAY ERWIN (this also goes with my most recent ask)

WORDS: 2.9k

hi @frenchdyer ❤ i know i took this long bc i've been thinking about this. like the otherworldly self-reflectio i only tend to have once in a year or whenever i'm PMS-ing lol. how's your crocheting? were you able to improve somehow months after you had sent me this msg? my sister gifted me a crochet kit, so i've been planning to learn, too!

on a personal note, the hobby i suck at but enjoy doing nonetheless is drawing! perhaps it's a self-esteem issue, but i've been drawing since i was 5. the passion came to me even before i learned how to write! due to the amount of years i've been trying to master it only to have minimal progress, i can say drawing is smth i can never admit i'm good at. but i came to terms to it now (when i was in highschool i was so insecure about it lol) and bc i did, i draw things to enjoy, not bc i'm utterly pressured to improve!

On the surface, even his closest friends would have a different time answering this question. It's Erwin we're talking about, after all! The literal embodiment of academic perfection and charisma!

Erwin also wants to think of something other than an answer. Although he admits his flaws well when someone points them out, he wants to be good at everything as much as possible. For a perfectionist like him, self-admittance would mean giving up!

It is until you said something that made him recnsider. "Sometimes, I don't see you as a human."

In hindsight, the context of your question was, "What do you want to have for your birthday?" but Erwin seems to be the type to already have the things he'd want and need in life, perhaps if one were to speak materially. Every gift he'd receive would only impact him a little, and you want to change that.

He chuckles at the remark, amused as your features remain serious, "Do I feel like an alien?"

"Dunno," you shrug without turning up at him—only at the papers, hiding a frustrated blush. "And if you're actually a slimy organism underneath? It scares me."

You hear the office chair sliding towards you, and as swift as ever, Erwin's hand is on top of yours. He squeezes it gently, and you try to hold your fluster by glaring at him. Luckily. Only the two of you are in the office; what would the others say if they saw this? You and Erwin made it clear to keep your relationship hidden by acting 'decent' in public places.

He lets you feel its warmth first, although unsure of the reason why, then he guides your hand towards his cheeks. He presses your palm on it. 

"W-what?"

Erwin casually leans his cheek to your palms, albeit with a tranquil expression contrary to you, perhaps amusingly watching your reaction. "Mind repeating what you said earlier?"

"I said underneath. Hypothetically. And I don't mean it literally as well."

"Underneath? Well, that's quite a unique way of asking me to—"

You swatted your hand away and lightly hit his chest as you couldn't hold the fluster. "Stop playing with me. I'm not done yet."

"Well, I'm done."

"Please don't make it my problem."

"I'm actually offering to help."

You perk up in glee. If Erwin's to help, then you might as well consider yourself done. You pulled your chair away from your desk so Erwin could look at it.

However, Erwin asks something completely unrelated amidst the heap of your paperwork. "Why do you not see me as a human?"

"You feel like some sort of god."

"Silly, that's a metaphor that would fit you more."

"Oh, you. Stop flustering me." you huff in sarcasm. "You know about the crocheted scarf I was planning to give you before winter ends?"

"Yeah, and it's summer already. I'm still waiting for it, though."

"I threw it away."

"Huh?" Erwin looks at you in surprise, eyebrows twitched in confusion, perhaps in a whine. He knows you've been trying so hard for it. "Why would you?"

"I'm not good at it."

"But you were enjoying it. You told me so."

"Not because I enjoy it means I'm good at it," you then smile in defeat. "Let's just say I'm not as fast at learning as you are, no matter how much the task interests me. Maybe that's why I sometimes can't deem you human, too. Too good for me, I think."

Erwin could only observe you afterward. You don't try to make it a big issue, none but admittance that unpretentiously comes out of your mouth. As much as it is, perhaps, concerning self-esteem, Erwin is the one hit by it. The way you could admit your flaws a bit too easily and go home without pondering on it is something he couldn't easily do even if he tried. It takes one to help overcome an insecurity and another to admit his own.

"That's not true."

"It is. You really excel at everything, Erwin. That's something I also yearn to have for myself. You don't have flaws. Or, well, let's say you have one, but no normal being can see it so easily."

Well, you were able to lay down his flaws then and there. After all, he's having difficulty coming to terms with his flaws—or perhaps, on saying such admittances out loud. You are right. As much as Erwin demands you to open yourself up to him, some facets stay unsaid because he opts to and wants to remain an ideal image, perhaps one who can only admit his inadequacy if someone points it out. You're the complete opposite, though. You could admit your flaws and still end the day happily. The 'incompatibility', or so you might call it, could be giving him a hard time consoling you.

Oh, and when he recently enjoys consoling you the most. He really appreciates having you open up to him, enjoys the privilege of being able to take care of you as you let him, enjoys listening to your blabbers, and offers resolutions just like the strategic man he is. After all, he's one of the few people who sees that.

Only if he doesn't suck doing it.

"Oh no, did I say something that upset you?" you ask worriedly, sensing his silence.

And he's not the one to be given comfort right now, or so he thinks. It's as if you hit a nail, albeit unaware of how and where it hit him.

Just as if closing the distance is the needed nudge, Erwin pulls your figure towards him, holds both cheeks and surrenders to sweet kisses. Erwin's lips are warm, and the pace is languid. Yet, it's overwhelming enough to deprive you of your senses, let alone the urgent question of why he is suddenly acting the way he is. This might be the first time he got intimate with you inside the workplace. You know this type of kiss from him, too—he does it whenever he's dreary or after working on a significant research paper that got him weary.

The worry reverberates, and thus, you withdraw from the kiss, "Is this because of the scarf? I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have thrown it away. Don't worry, I'll make another one and—hmph!"

He cuts you off for another kiss, harsher this time, perhaps classified as a silent sulk for cutting off the lovely exchange, but no—you're wrong. It's not on you at all. Erwin is frustrated with himself. He holds onto your waist until you're seated on his lap and wraps his hand around your neck to press you further to his chest—hoping it would compensate for the distance you two have due to his inadequacies. To be great in giving you solace is to be vulnerable and imperfect; how could he do that?

He withdraws when both of you need air, albeit begrudgingly, "I'm sorry, Erwin. I know you waited for that scarf."

"No, it's not about that."

"Then what?"

He pretended to ponder for a few seconds, eyes roaming the room to gather his words. He pursed his lips before pointing out, "Don't you think the way you perceive me as a human far beyond you is a flaw I might have? Partners are not supposed to see each other that way."

"I'm merely exaggerating."

"Yes, but still."

"Are you saying you must apologize to me because you're such a perfect being?"

"No, because I'm failing to show you that I'm not."

Oh. 

You finally see where he's coming from. "Are you failing by choice?"

He averts his gaze away, "Yes."

"Then it can really be a flaw," you flash him a sympathetic smile, moving his face so he'd see you in the eyes again, "can you tell me why?"

“I'm not brave enough to show it the way other people do."

"You just did, honey."

"Not because I want to, but because I'm insecure about my inability to console you like a normal partner would. The way you perceive me right now says a lot about our distance. And mind you, doing this isn't even supposed to be this hard."

Both of you stopped. That is by far the most vulnerable thing he had said about himself since you started dating months ago—and it wouldn't even sound vulnerable unless it came out of Erwin's mouth. That's how hard he's been all this time.

He expects you to be annoyed. After all, that might be one of the shallowest reasons he had ever given, too.

But then you smile as if you appreciate him for saying that much—just as if you know it takes a lot for the Erwin Smith to admit something like that, "It's not something you can unlearn overnight. Do not fret."

He lets out a defeated chuckle, "That I know well."

"What's strange is that I'm not your first partner. How come this didn't become a problem with your previous ones?"

"Because people are content to perceive me that way. At some point, I preferred that, too. Honestly—" he leans his head on your shoulder, hands on your waist to keep your balance on his lap, "had it not affected the way I console you, I would prefer things to stay that way."

You pepper him with kisses all over his face, something he accepts as a reward, "Honestly, I would prefer you this way, too. A relationship with a god can be a bit of a struggle, after all."

"Indeed it is. What a struggle I have right now."

You glare at him, "What do you mean by that?"

He shakes his head nothing, hands lurking inside your shirt to feel you more, to shower you with reverence, "Let me finish this now. I miss our bed."

Today is his birthday, and you still need to think of a gift that could be deemed special.

As a last-minute reflection before giving up the gift that has been frustrating you for days, you try to ponder on the previous days since he opened up.

Erwin has become more talkative since then. He's always been chatty towards you since you started the relationship, especially when info dumping. However, this has a stark difference. He's trying too much as if matching an expectation no one but him had set up. Wording it as "forced" would perhaps hurt, but it's not something you could deny, either. Only when afternoon came did you realize how to fix it, with Erwin on a couch and crochet yarns on his lap. He has his phone at the coffee table and the familiar tutor video playing in the background. Eventually he sighs, unties the yarn, and repeats—this time with much precision, and you couldn't help but smile. When Erwin is about to learn something new, he locks himself in his office and spends the whole day studying it alone. Only now did you finally unravel why, and it's apparently part of his mentioned flaw that night.

He might be forcing himself lately, but it's the adjustment that counts.

Erwin perks up in surprise when you sit beside him and hold his hand. You guide his fingers into the correct way of tying the knot. You didn't say anything, and maybe you even tried to act like it's an everyday routine. Erwin pretends to listen and pick up the techniques you're blabbering, but in reality, he's just looking at your face. His lips are flat but twitching as he's trying to hold the urge to steal a kiss. He tries to inhale longer to indulge in the scent of your hair but not too much to call your attention. And as the moment passes, thirty minutes, perhaps because the video's finally done playing in the background, Erwin realizes something.

Just… just what held him back from being like this towards you? This is, in fact, a short step. The bare minimum, even. And even so, it felt genuinely liberating. Indeed, he's been forcing himself to be vulnerable recently, but this is the first time it exuded a positive feeling. 

Your hands gently stop, the instruction's done, and Erwin only realizes when you turn to look him in the eye, "You get it?"

"The what?"

"Huh?"

"Oh," Erwin tries to recall what his blank, sappy head might have digested so far, only to no avail. The only thing coming up in his mind right now is the smell of your shampoo. Perhaps his nerdy brain is trying to guess the unfamiliar flavor mix and earn your praise once his guess is correct. "I—uh—"

"You didn't listen at all."

He smiles, guilty.

You sigh, "I'm quite persistent, you see. We're not eating dinner until we both master this knot."

"Wouldn't this wait? I'm not in the mood anymore."

You shake your head and untie the yarn. But just as you're about to quip at his newfound impatience (and how cute he is trying to get the hang of it like a little kid learning origami), Erwin grasps the tool away from your hands and cups your cheeks.

He first lands a chaste peck on your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, then the tip of it, then the two cheeks, and finally, it deepens when he reaches for your mouth.

And because you are indeed a persistent being, you have no idea how shamelessly grateful Erwin was when you did more than just pull him in. He tried to stop himself, after all, for seconds in case it'd do anything better. Maybe you're not in the mood; perhaps you want to see the side of him not knowing better and learning things together. But when his palm glided on your cheek and your eyes widened in response, the tremor in his nerves overpowered the need to ask. 

Perhaps the tremor was gratitude because here he is, not getting any younger, and yet, this is only his first genuine step to face his vulnerability. 

You kiss him back and wrap your arm around his neck to pull him in, albeit quite sure why he's suddenly kissing you like this.

Unlike the previous one, his kisses are full of gentleness, and not a tinge of frustration can be seen. His hands, although huge and hard, slide inside your shirt so softly to feel your bare skin. You withdraw a bit to ask what might be the matter, but quickly forget the question when you see his face. He's blushing as though it's the first time he has kissed like this. His eyes are pretty lidded, lips a bit open, and you realize that although you had seen this expression before, it was for a very brief moment—not immediately after a chaste kissing session. 

He looks at you, quite disappointed for cutting the kiss short again. He grabs you by the ankle until you're sitting on his lap.

"Did something happen?"

He shakes his head, "Saying it out loud would be sappy."

"If you think I'd forgive you for spacing out while I'm—kyah!"

He starts sucking on your neck, "Shut up and don't ruin the moment."

"The what? Hey, don't mark on it. I'm warning you."

Erwin really wants to explain his thoughts. He's sure you'd be glad if you were to know all of this. Even though he could never perceive this as a significant step beyond, he bet you'd be giggling and jumping once you know.

He looks up and tries to explain but realizes how tired he is holding everything in—it took him decades. Erwin addressed it only after loving someone so ardently that he was willing to give up years-long prideful habits—all to love you more. He is exhausted, and your lips are so soft and so near, offering the sheer comfort he needs. It's parted slightly; if his tongue were to slip inside, it would send him into great bliss. Erwin is exhausted right now; perhaps he’d share his thoughts after this overwhelming, trembling warmth subsides.

For now, he at least tries to give a small context, "This is the best birthday I've ever had."

"Y-you think so?!" What have you done? You've been thinking about it for months! How could it happen without you knowing? "We spent the day indoors. We haven't even done anything special yet."

"You'd get quite full of yourself if you knew."

"You're trying to escape for not listening to my crochet blabbers."

"I don't want to get sappy today. Can't we just continue?"

"Well, uh… I really want to know what I did," you avert your gaze away. "I've been at the edge lately, thinking of ways to make you say you got the best birthday today—with me. Now that you finally say it, however…"

Again, it's as if you hit a nail, albeit unsure where and how you did.

"And there you have it. Your answer."

"Huh?" It took you a while to process that. "Because you're with me?"

He nods, albeit in a teasing manner.

"Eek. The sap shudders me."

"That's why I asked if we could just continue where we left off."

"The crocheting, indeed." you tease, but as you're about to reach the tool again, Erwin carries you up in his arms. He doesn't even need to tell you where he'd bring you. The impatient man would straight up lead you to bed to show what he wants.

Instead of scolding him for cutting the lecture off, you sigh and muffle your head in his neck, "You have to thank god it's your birthday today."

"Oh, yes of course," he kisses the crown of your head. "Thank you, dear."

TAGLIST: sorry for causing inconvenience with your notifs, my dears in taglist TT i wasn't planning to publish this tonight but the birthday request activated my brain neurons and said "what if u unload your WIPS and just publish this thing" so yea. sorry. @frenchdyer @watyousayin @collinnmckinley @aeanya @xiaotopia @cadenza-damour @grimistheangerinmystares @rinamars | STORY SUBSCRIPTION FORM

MORE OF SWEET SUBTLETIES SERIES HERE

[fumifooms]

Do you know about the Marchil h-doujin, just called "Marchil Meshi"? (Dunno wether you're comfortable about adult content regarding the ship. If not, sorry and feel free to ignore).

Imagine my surprise… When a few months ago, I was looking up places to buy doujins for dunmeshi online bc of that new-ish laimar (sfw) doujin and I find, many many nsfw ones bUT AMONGST THE HORDE… MARCHIL MESHI. I ate it up. It’s a lil iconic to me ngl, I quote it in my head sometimes. Marcille angrily gesturing always gets me cackling. It honestly has no business being this good, it was made pretty early on in the story so many years ago, and STILL! So in character, and honestly so funny, AND no weird business either. Like listen, I scour the internet, looking for any marchil content, any marchil content at all… And find a dry af desert, no life here, literally jackshit nothing. Only Pixiv has some afaik but the nsfw is def… Hm. 😔 (2 fics tagged chirumaru on there btw!! That aren’t mine lol) Thank you marchil meshi author if I had to pick 1 piece of marchil nsfw to exist I’d choose this one (honestly that’s already so close to reality lol) Thank u Asaki Takayuki I owe u my life. I like zines but I’ve never bought doujins before so it didn’t cross my mind, but dunmeshi is taking a lot of my first times in fandom engagement and I bought said laimar doujin just the other day hehe 

I do want to keep my blog generally sfw but yes I’m 100% cheering on nsfw marchil content from the shadows, glad that ao3’s finally getting some too. I hope that fic writer makes more… Tallman Chil is so so good but I hope they also do some more general premises, which the end notes on that one do make me hopeful 👀 I want more marchil writers in general. More marchil fanartists. Sfw nsfw idk I need to be fed 😭 (<- This post was drafted before that new marchil smut fic WOOHOO. So much new marchil content this week!!)

Oh while I’m here, I find this so funny/odd, but in japanese fandom ship names are simply the beginning of each name smushed together, like marchil or chilmar. The order of the names is that the first one is the "top"… Idk how jp fandoms live without switches but aight, but in m/f ships this means that typically the man is the first half of the ship name right. WELL WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT marchil is so much more used than chilmar lmaoo. Even more stats: On Pixiv, the tag marchil had all the artworks, but the chilmar tag had all the fics. Ain’t that wack to think about. Anyways marchil or chilmar idc you go guys

Sighh thinking about them. They are so "I beg your pardon??!" "Then beg", "Fuck you!" "Fuck me yourself you coward"… Forget stamens and pistils, Chil is the cursed "You see, there are keys and there are locks…"

More under cut since I don’t get to talk about this often, screenshots and hcs for horny time

^ said panel that lives rent free in my head and makes me giggle. I wish I’d just put the whole page here it’s my fave but nahh go find it yourself

Why are they like this. Like what is thatttt

I need to stop collecting these I’m making myself feel insane (thank you fic writer for that last one I’d never noticed but omg)

Alright hc time what was I gonna talk about… Ah yes ah yes. I def think Chil is a pest, he’s horny and he wants sex and is flagrant about it, but also we know that he stayed faithful for 4 years without getting any, I feel like realistically the relationship sex wise would 100% be on Marcille’s pace. And this is the fun part, bc would Marcille be very eager? Would she want to do the romance book correct™️ route and that means no tapping until marriage, or he needs to court her all princely first? I hc that elves have a much lower libido than humans because of the whole long af lifespan thing, it’d be kinda funny if Marcille was like "Let’s take things slow… 🥺" aka first base achieved after two years of being together lol

But seee that’s the thing too bc Marcille is so afraid of loss she might rush through things as well, she very well could like, jump on him right after confessing. Is Chilchuck kind of a shithead or is he very gentlemanly and romantic, wanting to do it right and treat her well? They are such a blank canvas of sexual chemistry listen LISTENNN there are just so so many ways you can go with them they are so special. God the banter… They cannot stop bantering for a second I swear So many kinks they could fit… I like uhh praise kink for him and for her… Idk she just really loves him and the emotional adoration is what’s at the core of her enjoying it all so like, loving Chilchuck kink, which turns out those two really match together 🫶 He makes her sing and ummm um you see where this goes. They are so grossly in love and into each other

They are so domestic. I hate them

[summerongrand]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by the wonderful and talented Lana @cfr749. She’s a gifted writer and has 19 works with a WHOPPING 354,235 words on Ao3!!!!!! She’s a gem, a fandom OG (I think), and began writing Chenford since before they were canon. I like to read an author’s fics in chronological order and am reading hers this way. There’s a charm about reading pre-canon works in this fandom because it’s like time traveling and seeing a shipper’s heart through their writing and their belief in this ship that may or may not come true. And Lana on top of all of that has a way of combining words in a way that tugs at the essence of human emotion. Go read her fics!!!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? I’m honored to be recognized as a fic writer despite having zero works on Ao3. Lana was incredibly thoughtful to tag me and I *think* it’s because she saw some tags where I mentioned that I write fic. Noticing small things like that is one of the many reasons why she is an awesome human being.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? Currently 0. In total, I have around 80,000 words that I haven’t shared yet. 

3. What fandoms do you write for? The Rookie.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I’ll use this space to preview 5 fics in various stages of planning:

1. Psych professor Lucy and student Tim. Tim is married and Lucy’s in a relationship, so Chenford will be riding down Angst Avenue for a while … even as they ride their s/o’s.

2. Psych professor Lucy and student Tim. A companion story to the first.

3. Tim meeting Lucy’s grandma. There are a few OCs in this one including Lucy’s grandma. This is planned as a one-shot with potential for more chapters. I’m currently “face casting” Lucy’s grandma, so if anyone has suggestions, feel free to send them my way.

4. Soulmates AU. I have five separate Google docs with five separate ideas of how I want to write this. I’m leaning towards writing this from a historic angle where there’s a huge geographic separation between Lucy and Tim.

5. Found family goes on vacation. Patrice or the Thorsen family owns a huge resort up in the mountains (because of course they do). Our favorites spend a few days of fun up there. Thinking of writing Chenford as either having a secret relationship or in a pre-relationship. I just returned from a vacation in the mountains and this was in no way inspired by that. Nope.

5. Do you respond to comments?

If someone takes the time to comment on my stories, I definitely will reply.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My fics will always end happy because Lucy Chen deserves for Tim Bradford to give her the world.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Psych professor Lucy/student Tim is the only one that has an ending so far. But dunno yet if I’ll keep that ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, because I currently don’t have any fics on Ao3.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Psych professor Lucy/student Tim is my first fic in over 20 years and first foray into smut. They just wanna bang … their s/o’s and each other.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

As a kid, I wrote a fic where BSB, NSync, Britney, Christina, Mandy Moore, Jessica Simpson, O-Town, A*Teens, etc. all stayed in a hugeass chalet and performed sets. BSB and NSync kept throwing shade and snowballs at each other.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Chenford!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I started writing psych professor Lucy/student Tim over six months ago and I honestly don’t ever want to finish writing that fic. But that's also partly why I haven't shared it yet. The story keeps evolving which makes the front end still a work in progress.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I can’t comment on my strengths as a fic writer because I haven’t gotten any feedback on my fics in over 20 years. But I guess I have a lot of cultural awareness and this helps with characters as diverse as what is on The Rookie. For example, I'm aware that when Colin O’Neil (Mel’s bro) drinks, his face turns tomato red. He wrote about it in an Instagram post. Same thing happens to Melissa and to a lot of other East Asians but there are ways to circumvent redness with pills and such. So yeah, with that tidbit in mind, there's a scene in one of my fics where Tim clocks Lucy’s tomato red flush after a night of drinking.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Transferring complex plots onto a page. It makes sense in my head but it may not make sense to readers.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Haven’t written dialogue in another language but I’m not against it either. I know enough Spanish to be comfortable writing in it without butchering it. I'm so game for Lucy to speak Chinese to Tim and Chenford kids, but I don’t know if I can pull it off. I can try though!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

S Club 7.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Professor Lucy/student Tim. 

--

Thanks again for the tag, Lana!

I'm tagging @onlyforchenford (because I'm an instigator and would love to read her fics), @poppypickle, @goodgirlssayiloveyoutoo @rememberthismomentx, @lovemesomechenford, @randomlittleimp, and @sailorslut111 (apologies if y'all have already done this and I missed it)!

[fandomworld9728]

Do you have a Staticapple-centric AU? I just thought of one, In many AU fics Human Alastor summons Lucifer but what if Vox did summon him just to get his dream career? Hold on! There's a twist! Vox was like a completely different person before death as he always had a cold-hearted and quiet personality so... Let me say Lucifer was the one who helped Vox on his personality shift and maybe... They fell in love in the process? (Maybe have Charlie as a staticapple child as a bonus in the end but that's up to you) and then after death, they met again? Maybe after Alastor rejected his offer just to save his old dead Vox personality Luci knows and loves or maybe follow the canon timeline and Luci would go and bring his Voxxy back to he once was. I dunno that's up to you

(Ooo~ That's a good one! No, I actually haven't made any StaticApple-centric AUs. Which is odd because there's a lot of potential there)

Victor couldn't believe he was so desperate to advance his career to the point where he was even considering what he was doing now. He must have lost his mind! Summoning a demon. Selling his soul. Was it worth it?

He could ask himself that later if this worked. Which he doubted it would. Thought, he supposed it couldn't hurt to try. He was going to Hell anyways…

Finishing drawing the circle and symbols, Victor lit the candles and waited. And waited. And waited- How long was this supposed to take?!

"This is so stupid! Why did I get my hopes up? I knew it wasn't going to work." Walking away and leaving the ness for someone else to find, Victor tossed the book behind him. What a waste of his time.

"Son of a bitch. That fucking bullshit book gave me a papercut." Sucking the blood off his finger, he almost left until the room was cast in a red and gold glow.

"Oh fuck."

~

Victor was freaking out. He had Lucifer, the first fallen angel and the King of Hell, in his apartment. He had not only managed to summon a demon, but the most powerful one in existence.

"I've been thinking. You should change your name to something unique. Something that stands out."

"I-I'm sorry?"

"You sold your soul to me for help in advancing your career, did you not? I'm doing my job."

Right. Victor had been so lost in his disbelief and panic that he already forgot. Shaking his head, he got back on track and tried to ignore that amused smile the devil wore.

"If you believe that a change in name would help, I supposed I could consider it. What did you have in mind?"

"Vox."

". . . What?"

~

It had been a week and already had soared in the rank thanks to Lucifer. The ridiculous name got him attention and opened the door to conversation. Also, the suggestion on covering the cult like set up from his summoning with a made-up story really sealed the deal.

There was only one thing that seemed to be stopping him from getting where he wanted to be.

"It's your shitty personality."

"Excuse me? You want to fucking repeat that?" Lucifer just cooed at him as if he were an angry kitten, which did not improve his mood.

"Vox. You've got to face the facts. You're a cold-hearted asshole who keeps to himself. You need to at least pretend to be a charmer in this line of work."

"Oh please. What would you know about faking charm?"

"I'm the least charismatic personal you'll ever meet, but I sure as hell can fake it. You know who I actually am? I'm an awkward man obsessed with ducks and who locks himself away for days. Weeks, months... sometimes even years at a time because he has no concept of the passing of time."

Vox was silent for a moment. Trying to process what the fallen angel had just told him. "That's just sad."

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up you dick. When you're ready, I'll teach you how to charm the pants off of anyone you come across."

~

Vox didn't like this. Not one bit. Over the past couple of months, Lucifer's lessons had paid off. He had gotten a promotion that came with a nice pay raise and decided to move the two of them into a nice house closer to his job.

The hours had become longer though, what with meetings and late nights out with his coworkers. Though, no matter what, Vox always came home to a hot meal and Lucifer there to greet him.

Sometimes he'd come home to the demon fast asleep on the couch, trying and failing to wait up for him. Every time he'd wake him up, he was greeted with a sleepy smile and a welcome home.

They spend so much time together, learning about each other and growing closer. Vox is the one who earned those soft, beautiful smiles and those tinkling laughs. He did. Not those useless wannabes surrounding his angel and trying to touch him.

It wasn't even the women piss him off. It was the men. They thought that they were being sneaky. But the more those bastards had to drink, the ballsier they became.

Hands on Lucifer's hip or lower back, lips too close to his ears, and he put up with it for Vox. To help him with is career, get him connections. Not only because of their deal either. The demon had confessed to him one night that he had grown to care for him.

It had been a pleasant surprise to know that someone, especially someone like Lucifer, cared about him. That he wasn't alone.

A growl slipped passed Vox's lips as he saw a hand go to his angel's ass and squeeze it. That paired with the look on Lucifer's face had him downing his drink and slamming it down hard enough he was surprised it hadn't shattered. Making his way over, he grabbed Lucifer's hand and dragged him away without a single word.

"Whoa! Vox? What's wrong? I-If it's about that guy, don't worry. I can protect myself. It was just harmless flirting on his part."

"Oh? So, you just let any man grab you like that? Do you enjoy it? Having their disgusting, unworthy hands all over you."

"What? Where is this- wait. Are you jealous?"

Once in private, Vox crowded the other man against a wall. He wanted to keep him close, make sure he couldn't just run away.

"Jealous? Jealous?! Of course I'm jealous! How can you just let some nobody like him touch you that way so freely?! He doesn't deserve the honor... all he wants from you is your body. He doesn't care about you or love you like I- ..."

Ah fuck. Vox had gotten so worked up that he let his feelings for the fallen angel slip out. Vox waited and braced himself for the rejection. After all, even if they were separated, Lucifer was still very much devoted to his wife when it came to his heart.

However, instead of rejecting him, all Lucifer did was give Vox that soft small smile he loved so much. A golden blush settled on his cheeks as he reached up to hold his face.

"You love me?"

~

Why was he remembering all of this now? Remembering all that he had lost the day he died? Vox hadn't been able to find Lucifer and the king never reached out to him.

So, of course, at his lowest the sinner was reminded of the only other man he had ever loved. Right after he had been rejected and almost died in a fight with the man who had broken his heart.

Sitting up in a bed he'd never seen before, Vox took a moment to gather himself before he went back to Valentino. He had no desire to go back to the moth demon, but he was the only one he had left.

"Yay! You're awake!"

Lifting his head, Vox was surprised to see the most adorable little girl climbing into his bed. She reminded him of someone.

Like, if Lucifer had strikes of black in his hair and swirls of blue in his red eyes. Was... was this girl his daughter? Did the king not wait for him and that's why he never reached out or tried to find him? If so, why was his kid smiling at him like this?

"Daddy! He's awake!"

"Okay Charlie. Let's not yell, duckie. He's still recovering."

Walking into the room was a worried looking but smiling Lucifer. It was that soft smile he loved so much, the one he hadn't seen in so many years... He looked the same as when they last saw each other, only with exhaustion clear on his face. Though, he was still the most beautiful creature Vox had ever seen.

"Well, look who it is. I finally found you. Actually, Charlie did."

A proud smile on her lips, Charlie stood on the bed and put her hands on her hips. "Yes! Charlie is amazing! She found papa!"

". . . Papa?!"

[bubble-popping]

day 30!! woooo! one month of daily writing posts :) (continuing the dream^2 i wrote way too much for this silly au)

Towering over almost everyone else in the group, so familiar and yet so different. He looked softer, more relaxed, and absolutely no netherite armor in sight. But Dream knew instantly. (How could he not?) Months sharing the same space, he picked up on things that were just distinctly him. And Dream froze, unable to breathe. He should run, that would be smart. He couldn't go back in that prison, that tiny box, that utter Hell, he just couldn't-

"Alright, open 'em!"

Then, all eyes were on him, eyes that watched him suffer, eyes that looked on him with pity but didn't help, eyes that promised death if he ever escaped.

Human Dream had returned to his side, arms spread out like showing off a circus animal. He didn't have a mother to hide behind that would keep him safe like that calf. She'd abandoned him so, so long ago. Here, he had absolutely no one and nothing. He clutched the cloak tighter, tried to force his legs to stop shaking so damn much, pathetic, weak, coward.

"What. Is that?" A British accent asked. He didn't look. He couldn't take his gaze off the Warden.

"Isn't he cool!? He's an enderman, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, I dunno, I'm not the mob expert here. Sam, you're a smart guy. You recognize him?"

(Sam? Who was-)

"Uh, no, not really. He's tall like an enderman, but I've never seen a white one. Or, one that scared..." The Warden Sam rubbed the back of his neck, brow furrowed.

Human Dream looked up then to see the terrified expression on the albino enderman. He blinked, incredulous, and promptly shifted to concern. "Woah, hey, what's wrong? You okay?" He waved a hand in his face, but Dream remained unfazed.

"He's just staring at me. It's kinda creepy..." Sam complained, leaning back as if... as if he was scared. But. That couldn't be right. Sam wasn't scared of him. He was the goddamn Warden for fuck's sake, he controlled every aspect of Dream's life! The audacity to act innocent in this!

"Maybe he's got a grudge against creepers, dude. Might wanna start running," Sapnap teased, throwing an amused grin to the War-no, Sam, fuck.

"Guys, can you give us a minute? I gotta talk with him."

"What? He can talk?" George asked in disbelief.

"Well, no, but he can understand me. I think..."

"You think??"

"Just go back inside! He's clearly shy and you guys are overwhelming him!"

"You brought us out here!" Sapnap piped up.

"Bad, can you please?"

"You heard him, you guys. Let's give 'em some space." Bad corralled the two back into the house while Ant and Sam went willingly.

Dream didn't stop staring until the door closed. Once it did, he nearly collapsed from relief. He took a large gulp of air, suddenly painfully aware that he'd started crying, so fucking weak.

"Hey, I'm really sorry, man, I shouldn't have brought them all out at once. They can be loud and obnoxious, but I promise they're all good guys. They won't hurt you or anything like that."

His human counterpart stood before him now, expression so open and sincere, hands hovering around his arms, not touching but there, ready to catch him if he truly did fall. Dream tried to speak, he really did, but all that fucking came out were stupid enderman noises which only made him more distressed because everything here was wrong and he couldn't say or do a damn thing about it! His mind was already reeling from the knowledge that he should be dead right now. He died, he knew it, he felt it, but this wasn't his limbo and if it was then fate was even more cruel than he thought. The fake community house upset him enough, hearing the voices of his friends living blissfully without him--him who was trapped behind walls of lava blocking every path.

But this was too much. Seeing someone who looked and acted and spoke like him but was resolutely not him enjoying that life he once had, that happiness he once had...

[irkimatsu]

face sitting, incest play, cgl, and breeding

have fun~!

Facesitting:

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

Ohhhh the things I have written about Husk and facesitting. My man loves him some ass. Get that ass on his face this instant, the fatter the better. He'll feast for as long as you let him, rough tongue lapping over your cheeks and hole, claws digging into your thighs, a purr rumbling against your body... he's in bliss.

Doesn't mind being on the giving end of a good face sit, either, though it'll probably turn into 69 shortly enough. Not fair that you get to feast while leaving him to starve!

CGL:

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

This is one Husk is supremely embarrassed about and would deny to his dying breath to anyone other than a receptive partner. He's not like that! He's not some creepy old man!

...but god damn it I love that creepy old man. I may not fit the most traditional definition of a little, but I still love being taken care of by him, both physically and emotionally, and he loves having someone to protect as well. Being called "daddy" gives him the world's most embarrassed boner. (Well, not so embarrassed when he was an Overlord regularly picking up younger partners in the casino, but he'd like to leave that chapter of his life well behind him, thanks.) Even just getting to cuddle and say sweet things to his babydoll is so fulfilling for him...

...just don't let someone like Angel ever walk in on a CGL cuddling session. We'll never hear the end of it. Talk about daddy issues.

Which leads into...

Incest:

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

Turn the shame up to 11. In reality, it's a fuck no. Do not even slightly imply that he ever would have done anything to his daughters, he will fucking kill you and never feel the slightest remorse.

...but as roleplay with someone who already likes being his baby...

I wonder how far he'd take it? Consent's important to him, so I doubt he'd ever even roleplay a noncon scenario. But being able to teach his baby how to feel good, and how to make him feel good in turn... hearing them put on a cute little voice that stops short of forced, maybe teasing him by wearing cutely revealing clothes and squirming in his lap... fuck fuck fuck this should not turn him on what the fuck. But no matter how they're behaving, this is still the fully-grown adult he loves, and they do want this, so... maybe it's okay to enjoy the power play. It's not about hurting them, it's about teaching them, doing something good for them.

He'll try to deny his interest in the seedier aspects of the roleplay, but-

"Mmm... daddy... are you sure it'll fit? It's so big..."

Oh fuck. Right to his ego, then right down to his dick.

"You're a good doll, I'm sure you can take it..."

(I wonder if he'd also enjoy the forbidden aspect of it? Part of me wants to say no but another part of me is horny.

"We shouldn't be doing this, daddy..."

"You think so? You want me to stop?"

"...no. Keep going..."

"That's it, that's a good doll. Letting me do all this to you even though you know it's wrong... you're learning how to be daddy's little slut so quickly...")

Breeding:

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

This one's complicated to mark for Husk. When he's in his right mind, breeding doesn't do much for him. Sure, he loves to give a good creampie, but he knows he's infertile now, and even if he wasn't he has zero interest of bringing any kids into Literal Hell. It doesn't even appeal to him as a fantasy. Just take his cum and don't think too hard about what it'd do if you were both still human.

But every couple months or so, he goes into rut and his brain turns into thoughtless mush that can only think of mating and kits. When in this mental state, he loves when you beg him to fill you up with his kits. He loves nuzzling against your stomach after the act, delirious with heat, mumbling about how good you're gonna look, all swollen with his young. Loves sucking your chest, purring about how he can't wait to see that swell, too, maybe even get to taste your milk. (Whether or not you actually have breasts is irrelevant.) The thought will likely turn him on enough to go a few more rounds. Hope you didn't have plans today.

But after a few days he'll return to normal, and he'll remember exactly what his mental process was while in rut. He's glad you had fun but oh my god don't remind him that the rut shit keeps happening to him, what fucking jackass made him reincarnate as a fucking cat