#felt like i was watching power rangers

[lioriz]

Why aren't we treating season 3 of the mandalorian like we did for season 8 of game of thrones?

Honestly I'd say it's even worse

[silkpages]

if i had a nickel for each otp i have that's destined not to be together because ultimately their stories are not about a happy romance but rather of coming-of-age/maturity and deep mutual affection that can't be destroyed even by the bittersweetness of the narrative and the recognition of the barriers that stop them from being together, then i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[cupcakes-are-ours]

venjix with da teefers

[ibyul]

🤡

[tvonq]

had a dream thati was on a bus to my own concert. before i got off i saw jisung listening to his headphones and he was like ‘listen’. and it was wired earplugs plus big headphones? like he was wearing both at the same time. gave him a gift before running off :P

[dark-moonlust]

Getting Pounded by Nagas PART 5: Βabies

Pairing: Two nagas x f!human reader

Summary: it has been two months since your precious eggs hatched. You have a blissful life with your mates and babies. Your nagas are the best daddies in every way. 😉

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, starts cute but then there is smut, lactating and feeding babies, double ���🍆, fingering, p in v, οral (male), anal, dοuble penetr. Don’t like, don’t read please.

This is part of a series. Find all the parts here.

Soft afternoon light filtered through the colorful curtains. The nursery was filled with the adorable cooing of your baby naga boys. You sat at the comfortable armchair, your naga hybrids in the cradle of your arms. It had been almost two months since your precious eggs had hatched, stealing your heart forever. They were a mix of human and serpentine body, just like their daddies.

You marveled at their tiny, adorable forms which fit just perfectly in your arms. Little Rowan looked after his daddy, Thorne. He had a cute, chubby face with big eyes the same color as yours, and a tiny green-scaled tail. Little Bjorn, however had inherited your human nose and lips, and Ragnor’s eyes and red-scaled tail.

You were so proud that your DNA had been accepted by the eggs and they now looked after you as well.

You kissed each of their chubby cheeks and blew raspberries on their round bellies. The little ones giggled and looked at you with tenderness and love. Ahh, your heart felt so full!

Sitting back comfortably, you lowered the neckline of your dress and offered your breasts to your hungry little naga hybrids. They eagerly latched on your nipples, tiny hands nuzzling your breasts as they began to nurse, their tails cradling your arms waist. It was a calming and incredibly beautiful sight, watching them feed and grow stronger with each passing day. And dear Gods, they did eat a lot. Which was good because you had so much milk that sometimes it made you uncomfortable.

Gentle cooing sounds echoed in the quiet room as the babies fed, their tails curled lovingly around you. They suckled greedily, their attention fully devoted to your breasts. A soft slithering sound caught your attention; your mates. With a smile, you turned to see Thorne and Ragnor entering the room. Your naga mates were tall and handsome with strong shoulders and chiseled muscles. Their lower torsos extended into supremely long and powerful tails that moved gracefully across the floor.

They had just come back from work. Thorne and Ragnor were rangers, they protected the frontiers of the rainforest. Your mates looked incredibly smug to have returned just in time for the feeding of the little nagas. They surrounded you from both sides, their scaled tails coiling around your seat. No matter how many times you fed the babies, they loved the sight of you and they also got highly aroused by it.

“Hey, there pretty mama,” Thorne said, bending down to kiss you deeply, tongue slipping in your mouth.

When Thorne pulled back from your mouth, Ragnor was claiming your lips, his long tongue brushing against your smaller one.

“Our beautiful mate,” Ragnor murmured proudly. “Feeding our babies. Looking so beautiful and…” he whispered in your ear, “sexy.”

“I breastfeed at least twenty times a day, aren’t you bored watching me yet?” you teased them, a bright smile on your face.

“Never,” Thorne said huskily, eyes on the babies suckling your nipples. “We can never have enough.”

“Look at our precious little ones,” Ragnor said, caressing each cheek of the babies as they fed from your breasts. They moaned softly at their daddies but kept feeding, too hungry for milk to care.

“Hungry little monsters,” Thorne chuckled. “They are enjoying it so much.”

“They take after their daddies,” Ragnor said, leaning in to kiss the mound of your left breast. His lips were warm and soft against your skin, but the baby didn’t like the disturbance and groaned softly.

“Easy there, little guy. I’m not going to steal your mama,” Ragnor said then winked up at you, “yet.”

Thorne followed, kissing the mound of your right breast. The other naga baby ignored him and latched your nipple harder as if to keep it for himself.

You winced a little at the tug, your cheeks blushing. “You two are incorrigible. Worse than babies.

Ragnor gently stroked your neck. “We can’t help it. It’s hard not to get a little jealous of our babies,” he grinned. “They get the best parts of you.”

You laughed, the sound blending with the hungry coos of the babies. “Well, our babies have their needs,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with love. “They need to be fed constantly.”

“And so do we,” Thorne whispered, kissing you lightly. “But we can wait.”

Once the babies finished their meal, they released your nipples with soft wet plops and squealed up at their daddies. Ragnor and Thorne held them in their arms, kissed and fondled their little tails. Watching your mates with the babies made you so emotional and at the same time, so happy that you’d carried their eggs and went through all the intense naga birth procedures.

Your baby hybrids were worth all of this and so much more.

An hour later, your babies were freshly clean and tucked in their cots, sleeping with their tails coiled over one another and their cute little mouths forming precious smiles. You and your mates kissed them one last time on their foreheads and quietly left the nursery.

“I believe it’s now time for you to take care of the daddies,” Ragnor told you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You giggled as they led the way to your bedroom, Ragnor’s strong arms pulling you down onto the mattress, his long tail wrapping around the bed. He kissed you, his mouth possessing yours, tongue licking inside your mouth. Thorne joined in your side, kissing the crook of your neck, tasting and teasing, making you moan with need.

A few expert tugs and wiggles and they had you naked beneath them, their hungry gazes roaming your body. After the birth, your breasts were full and round, your nipples incredibly sensitive and leaking milk. Your belly was also softer and curvier as were your thighs. Your mates were in love with your body and since you were a little shy about these changes, they took every chance to remind you just how perfect and sexy you were.

Ragnor slipped between your legs, arms holding under your knees and spreading them wide apart. Your pussy clenched with anticipation, leaking with arousal and with your mates’ seed from when they’d fucked you earlier this morning.

Thorne’s lips trailed a path down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. Ragnor took one swollen tit in his hand, his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipple. Thorne cupped the other, molding it to his large palm while his thumb toyed with your leaky nipple. You squealed as they took turns worshipping your tender buds, hungry lips and tongues bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

“Such stunning tits,” Thorne murmured, his breath hot against one nipple. “Full and ripe.”

Ragnor’s tongue nursed from the other bud, lapping up the leaking milk. “I could spend an eternity worshiping our mate,” he rasped. “Feasting on her leaking nipples, pulling, tugging, suckling.”

“Also fucking her pretty pussy and tight ass,” Thorne added cheekily, suckling your nipple into his mouth, tongue whisking the leaking tip.

“Oh, yes, that, too,” Ragnor said with a husky drawl. “Pounding her so deep that she can’t speak. Filling her up with our cum.”

“S—Stop teasing,” you said, clutching both their shoulders, your body shaking from overstimulation.

Unbothered, your mates resumed devouring your tits, massaging the tender mounds and doing all sorts of shameless things to your buds with their tongues. Your poor nipples, so sensitive and aching, responded eagerly to your mates’ touches. You stayed there and moaned lewdly as they had their way with you, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

Soon, their hands joined in the sensual game.

Thorne’s fingers reached between your legs and he began to rub your clit in slow circles. Instinctively you arched your body, bucking your hips to gain more friction. At the same time, Ragnor’s hand slid over your inner thighs before stopping to tease the rosebud of your ass. He probed gently at first, his fingers lubricated with your juices, tracing the rosebud before thrusting two thick fingers inside.

Drawn-out moans left you as you thrashed and wiggled while they devoured your nipples and teased your pussy and ass. Their tails came to clutch around your thighs, holding you brazenly open for their ministrations which heightened your arousal and finally pushed you over the edge.

With a cry, you came undone, your body convulsing, your mind blanking out for a few moments. Ragnor and Thorne continued to tease your body, no less intensely. They suckled your tits loudly, slurped at your milk and let out animalistic growls. Thorne’s fingers were languid over your pussy while Ragnor’s stayed buried inside your ass.

“Fuuuuck, you’re exquisite, mate,” Thorne murmured, his lips claiming yours.

Ragnor watched as you were kissed, pulled out his fingers and leaned to kiss your neck.

Both nagas let out low vibrating purrs that that sent shivers down your spine.

When you finally came down from your high, you kneeled between them and started stroking their bodies, taking turns kissing each of them while tracing their bulging muscles and then down their cockslits. Their double cocks were already aroused and had emerged from their slits, jutting angrily toward their stomachs.

Your hands found Thorne’s shafts and your fingers wrapped around both of them, his cocks obscenely big in your small palms. Meanwhile you worked your tongue around each of Ragnor’s dicks, tracing the bulging veins and licking the beads of pre-cum on the heads. Ragnor jerked his hips with an audible moan, thrusting one dick into your mouth, your lips stretching, throat tensing.

Their tails joined in the game, coiling around your breasts while the tips slithered down your legs, opening your asscheeks. Ragnor’s tail filled your pussy while Thorne’s slid past the tight bud of your ass and up your guts. Muffled moans escaped you at the dual penetration.

“Mphhh…” you breathed when Ragnor drew back his cock which was glistening in your saliva. You immediately sucked his other cock while pumping Thorne’s with your other hand, both their tails fucking you with primal ferocity, causing your tits to bounce.

You alternated between your mates, pumping them with your hands and taking them in your mouth. Their cocks were hard and thick, the long girths kissing the back of your throat. You choked only a little and took them like a champ, slick sucking sounds and primal groans resounding across the room.

“Yes, mate —fuckkk, feels so fucking good.”

Ragnor slammed his cock down your throat, chasing his release.

“Ghrr….! Hmnn!” You gagged when the rip of his cock kissed the back of your neck, his hot release spurting down your mouth. You took both cockheads into your mouth and shallowed every drop. Ragnor roared, his hips undulating violently as he came down your throat.

Thorne came next and you instantly put his shafts in your mouth. Your mouth filled with the cockheads while your hands wrapped around the lengths that didn’t fit. In seconds, you were swallowing load after load of his cum. His jizz was too much, it dribbled down your lips but Thorne gently pulled it back into your mouth with his thumbs. You swallowed everything obediently.

“Such a good girl,” Thorne growled as you nursed his cocks, licking a long slow stripe up the underside of the shafts. “Taking every drop of our cum.”

“And letting our tails fuck her tight little holes,” Ragnor drawled, his fingers tracing where you were filled to the hilt with their tails. “Want our tails to keep fucking you, love? Or do you want our cocks?”

“Hmphhh…” you tried to talk but your mouth was filled with Thorne’s cockheads.

“There you go,” Thorne slowly pulled back, slipping from your mouth, a string of saliva connecting his shafts to your mouth.

“Co-cocks… want to be full,” you muttered, a hazy smile playing on your lips. “Cocks, pl-please.”

“Whatever our mate wants, our mate gets,” Thorne kissed you wetly. “We’ll give you our cocks and our love.”

“And lots, lots of orgasms,” Ragnor added, claiming your lips, too.

Thorne laid down on the mattress and gently rearranged your body, pulling you to lay with your back on his chest, your legs splayed wide. Ragnor came to rest between them, watching at where their tails were still fucking you slowly. The nagas retracted their appendages and instantly wrapped around your legs, keeping them obscenely open.

Ragnor hovered above you, rubbed your clit then used his thumbs to pull your outer lips apart and expose the glistening entrance of your pussy. You were drenched, your folds pink and puffy. The bud of your ass was also swollen and the sight of your eager holes made them feral.

“How about I fuck your lovely pussy, love?” Ragnor rumbled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Thorne can take your tight little ass.”

“Hmm… yes please…” you clutched him desperately. “Want you both.”

“Sharing is caring,” Thorne muttered cheekily as he lifted you by the globes of your ass and positioned you over his twin cocks. He cupped both shafts and prodded your tight asshole with the heads. You whimpered, your tight hole stretching to accommodate his massive cocks. Inch by inch he lowered you down until he was deep up your ass.

It was then when Ragnor pushed forward, clutching his shafts in his palms and driving them inside your pussy. You accepted them, inch by delicious inch, filled to the limit, your belly swelling with their girths inside you.

“Tight. So wet and tight.” Ragnor’s gaze smoldered with need. “Taking us so good. Our good little mate. The mother of our offspring. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, love.“

They started to grind inside you, their hips pumping steadily. They stretched and filled your holes again and again. You sobbed and clung to Ragnor for dear life, while Thorne toyed with your nipples and flicked your clit in time with his thrusts. You came in no time, pussy and ass clenching around their cocks, body arching wildly. Their tails gripped your hips so you wouldn’t shift away from their pounding.

They didn’t stop.

They kept fucking you through your orgasm, Ragnor’s grip tightening as he pulled you to ride him. Your legs wrapped around his torso and he lowered you onto his thick, waiting cocks. The stretch was intense, his girths stretching you to the brim. Thorne sat up behind you, his chest against your back as he adjusted the angle and thrust his cocks up your ass.

The new position was overwhelming, you were so completely filled, consumed by the sheer intensity of their shafts rubbing inside you.

They settled into a maddening rhythm, pounding your holes at the same time, never leaving you empty. Your arms clutched them while your small body, trapped between them jerked in time with their powerful thrusts. The sensations were maddening, leaving you gasping and begging for release.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Thorne breathed against your ear, hands tweaking your nipples. “I can feel your ass clenching around me.”

Ragnor hummed. “Can’t last much longer,” he said, his voice rough.

“Hmmm… m’ too, want to come— ahnn… close so close,” you whimpered as they pounded into you, changing nothing in their tactics.

“Let it go, little mate,” Ragnor drawled. “Let it go and take our cum, hm?”

You nodded fervently, clutching them while bouncing on them and chasing your peak.

Thorne’s cocks drove deep into your ass, and Ragnor’s cocks filled your pussy utterly, their relentless pace shattering you. You came with a cry, every nerve ending on fire.

They followed right after, their cocks pulsing and filling you with loads and loads of their seed. It was so much it overflowed and tricked down your thighs.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, they gently rolled you sideways, their cocks still hard inside you. They kissed you, Thorne against your back, his hands caressing your face. Ragnor lay in front of you, whispering soothing words as he nibbled at your neck. You fell asleep nestled within them, satisfied and full of love.

Your mates. The loves of your life. The fathers of your children. Your everything.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! Also, what do you want to happen next? What do you want to see? More smutty stuff on Patreon, too. 😊🖤

[dixons-sunshine]

Trick Or Treat | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was that time of the year. An event you loved celebrating as a child, one you wished to teach your own daughter about. You wanted to make her first Halloween memorable. Meeting a potential new friend was only an added plus to that.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: No apocalypse.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: None, really. Small mention of death.

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Hi, hello @dix0nvix3n. Thank you for allowing me to add your AU into my AU. I hope I managed to capture your reader and her daughter at least half decently. Also, this fic concludes my participation to @lazyneonrabbitt’s Halloween challenge. I hope y’all like this!

“Trick or treat!”

“Oh my gosh, you two are adorable! Power Rangers, right?”

You smiled at the children that beamed up at you, their expressions screaming that they only wanted candy, but they were polite nonetheless. The kids’ mom smiled at you, her gaze drifting down from your face to the little girl in your arms—yours and Daryl’s one year old girl, Hazel River Dixon, dressed up as a little hazelnut, in honour of the affectionate nickname given to her by her father.

“Aww, well isn’t she just the cutest little thing!” the woman cooed to the baby girl in your arms, successfully coaxing a small smile from Hazel.

“Thank you,” you replied to her statement with a smile, acutely aware of how cute your daughter was, before chuckling when you noticed the impatient looks on her two kids’ faces. You picked up the huge bowl of candy that rested on the table next to your rocking chair, and extended it towards them. “Here you go.”

The kids laughed and reached forward to grab multiple candies from the bowl, before placing them in their respective pillow cases. “Thank you!” the both of them echoed in sync, before giggling and running off down your porch steps.

The mom laughed lightly. “Sorry. Have a nice Halloween!”

You waved to her as she walked away. You sighed and leaned back in your rocking chair, holding Hazel close to your chest as she closed her eyes. You smoothed your palm over her back, pressing a soft, tender kiss on top of her head.

“Tired, Baby?” you asked rhetorically. She did not say anything—not that you had expected her to—but she nuzzled her face into your chest in response. You chuckled fondly at her. “I know, Sweetheart. Daddy and I will put you to bed in a bit, okay?”

Hazel opened her eyes and looked up at you, before her eyes drifted to something over your shoulder. She smiled happily, her chubby cheeks pulling up to reveal her adorable dimples. You did not have to turn your head to figure out who was behind you. The familiar touch of your husband soon rested on your shoulder, along with a soft press of his lips to the top of your head.

“How’s my girls doin’?” Daryl inquired in an affectionate tone of voice, a softness reserved only for you and your daughter evident in it.

You turned your head to peer up at him, sending him a small smile. “We’re good. Hazie is tired, though. I think after the next family comes up, it’ll be time to call it.”

“That’s probably for the best, yeah. S’gettin’ pretty late,” Daryl agreed. He reached forward and gently ruffled the wispy hair on Hazel’s head, smiling fondly when he successfully elicited a giggle from her. “How ‘bout I get her a bottle?”

You nodded in agreement to his suggestion. “That would be great. Thank you, Dar.”

“Ain’t nothin’, but yer welcome.” He leaned down and pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, doing the same to Hazel, before disappearing into the house with his task in mind.

You turned your attention back to the busy streets of your neighbourhood in King County. You felt content as you watched parents walk around with their happy, bubbly children, waving to one of the mom’s and her child, who was in the class you taught. You had a few regrets in your life, but if there was one thing you did not regret, it was agreeing to buy this house in the small town. It was a big adjustment to the bustling city life you had grown accustomed to whilst living in Atlanta, but you did not mind the change. The move was needed, especially after all the bad things that happened over the past two years.

You shook your head to rid yourself of the unwanted negative thoughts. You did not want to dampen the good mood you had sported the whole day. Daryl was fine now. You did not need to worry anymore.

Your salvation from your steadily wandering thoughts came in the form of a mom and her daughter. You smiled at the outfits they were wearing, thinking to yourself that it was truly amazing. Morticia and Wednesday Addams from The Addams Family. They absolutely nailed the outfits.

“Hi!” you greeted the pair enthusiastically, getting up from the rocking chair and smiling at the mother and daughter duo. “Morticia and Wednesday Addams, right?”

The mom smiled at you brightly, and nodded. “Yeah!” She nudged her daughter slightly, who giggled and looked up at you with a bright smile. “It was her idea. She even got her dad to dress up as Gomez. I wish you could see his costume. He had to run into the corner store for something, though.”

“It’s okay. If your outfits are anything to go by, I bet his is just as amazing.” You jiggled Hazel slightly when she began fussing, shushing her quietly with whispered words of reassurance. “Sorry. She’s tired. She usually has no trouble falling asleep around noises but she wants to stay up and greet all her new friends, it looks like.”

The woman waved you off with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I get it. My husband and I did something like this with Delilah when she was about her age. She got a bit fussy towards the end, too.”

“The Halloween when I was a pumpkin?” the girl—Delilah—asked with a big smile, laughing softly when her mom nodded. “Awesome.”

You grabbed the bowl from the table with one hand, extending it towards Delilah. “Here you go, Sweetheart. Take as much as you want.”

“Really?” Delilah asked with a bright smile.

You nodded. “Of course.” Delilah reached forward and grabbed a handful of different candies, placing them in her basket. You noted that she did not go back for a second handful, and you smiled. “That enough, Sweetie?”

Delilah nodded. “Yes, thank you. I don’t wanna take more than my share. Other kids might want some more.”

“That’s really considerate of you. You’re so sweet,” you complimented her, placing the bowl back on the table.

Delilah’s mom smiled at you. “We try to raise her right.”

“Well, you’re doing an amazing job.”

“Mama, I see Daddy!” Delilah exclaimed excitedly. She turned back to you momentarily, not forgetting her manners. “Thank you, ma’am!” Then she sprinted away, rushing towards her father. You could vaguely make out his figure, but other than that, you could not see anything else.

The mom smiled at you and shook her head. “I should probably go. It was nice meeting you… I never caught your name.”

“Y/N,” you replied. The woman repeated her name to you as well, and the two of you exchanged handshakes. “It was nice meeting you too. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Hit me up if you ever wanna go for a drink or something. You know where I live.”

She chuckled and nodded. “I’ll definitely take you up on that offer.” Almost instinctively, her eyes drifted down to Hazel, who you had cooed at quietly a moment ago to soothe her fussing, successfully coaxing a giggle from her. “She’s absolutely precious.”

You looked up from Hazel and looked up at the woman. You noticed a look in her eyes, one that you could only classify as nostalgia. It was a look you were all too familiar with back when you had visited your mom when she was still alive. Your heart went out to the woman. You could see how much she loved her daughter, and seeing Hazel must have transferred her back to the days when Delilah was Hazel’s age. You got emotional looking back at pictures of Hazel when she was a newborn, almost a year prior. You were sure you would be in her boat soon enough.

“Thank you,” you thanked her with a smile. “She’s my absolute pride and joy.”

“I can tell,” she replied, a sweet smile on her face. “Well, I have to get going now, for real this time. It was nice meeting you. I’ll see you for that drink soon. I’m not letting that one go.”

You chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t mind. Just tell me when.”

“Will do.” She sent you one final smile. “It was really nice meeting you. I’ll catch up with you another time.”

With that, she walked away and met up with her husband and daughter, leaving you alone on the porch once more. With one last wave at her and Delilah, you turned around and grabbed the bowl from the table again, deciding to call it a night. Hazel had rested her head against your shoulder during your exchange with the mother and daughter duo, but she had not fallen asleep yet. However, you were sure she would do so after her bottle.

You walked into the kitchen, where you found Daryl testing the heat of the milk against his wrist. He looked up when he heard your footsteps, and sent you a small smile.

“Done for the night?” he asked softly.

You nodded and placed the bowl of candy down on the counter in your kitchen. “Yeah.” You walked towards Daryl and leaned back against the kitchen island, rubbing Hazel’s back soothingly. “We’re both beat, her probably more than me.”

Daryl chuckled and reached forward to gently take Hazel from your arms. Hazel made no protest, melting against her daddy’s chest almost instantly and making grabby hands at the bottle in his hand.

“Let’s get her settled down for the night,” Daryl suggested, bringing the bottle up to her mouth and laughing when she eagerly latched onto it. “I think she agrees.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” You pushed yourself away from the kitchen island and motioned over to the leftover candy in the bowl. “And then we can overeat on a bunch of stuff that’s probably not good for us.”

“Now that,” Daryl began, “sounds like a good plan.”

Taglist: @holdmytesseract (comment/DM me to be added/removed.)

[level2janitor]

tactiquest structure

so i've posted a lot about tactiquest's classes and monsters and everything on here but i haven't really talked about the non-combat subsystems much yet and i wanted to go into detail about them, bc tactiquest has very different goals from most heroic fantasy systems.

tracking inventory, travel time, worrying about actually running out of your adventuring budget, are things a lot of big-damn-heroes fantasy systems throw out because they're just paperwork that gets in the way of your cool fights. that's not the case in Tactiquest! these systems are so core to the experience that removing them will make a lot of classes unusable. the game is built around them.

travel & exploration

tactiquest explicitly assumes you're running an open-sandbox hexcrawl and is designed to support that, including the fact the game is designed around random encounters. this is the sort of thing D&D 3e expected you to do, but people ditched random encounters because they thought they were boring and tedious. so classes balanced around that attrition of resources ended up with a huge spike in power other classes couldn't match.

the boring-and-tedious problem is mostly addressed by trying to make combat really good and resolve really fast. if i fucked that up the whole thing falls apart, but so far people are liking it

the second thing that helps with random encounters is your resources don't fully restore immediately at the end of each day like they do in 3e. resting is less effective in the wilderness and resources expended are a tomorrow problem, not just a today problem. so you don't have to have 3+ fights every single day just to maintain parity - 0-2 fights per day still adds up to difficult resource management.

because the game has such a focus on it, you can have classes like the ranger actually be good at travel and exploration instead of just giving them vaguely-naturey combat abilities.

economy

in most D&D-likes, even usually OSR ones, you accrue so much gold. just as a side effect of adventuring. to the point money no longer actually matters because you can throw piles of it at any problem. this is bad. it's a system that defeats its own purpose; there are no interesting choices involving money when you have so much the only real expense is like, 50,000-gold-piece magic items.

i don't just want players to care about money, i want them to worry about money, like a normal person. you're not batman who's a billionaire as a side hobby, you're spiderman who has to deliver pizzas in between superhero work because he's got bills to pay like everyone else. so a whole lot of effort has been put into actually designing prices and treasure amounts around this dynamic.

i also hate how games will usually go "oh adventuring gives you 900,000 gold for existing but a normal person's living wage is 2 gold a month". i don't want to be fantasy jeff bezos, thanks

inventory

this is something i just lifted from OSR games outright. you can carry ten things (and tiny things don't take up an item slot). that's the whole rule.

tracking inventory can add a lot of interesting decisions to a game and adds a new lever for abilities from classes and magic items. having a character play the merchant class which gets a bunch of extra inventory slots feels really impactful. finding a bag of holding that doubles your carry capacity feels so good when you actually have to watch your inventory.

supply

the only thing i felt was really unenjoyable when running games with strict inventory limits was tracking rations for each character that you eat every night; it felt too much like busywork with not enough payoff. so in Tactiquest rations are abstracted into a single Supply stat that's tied to the party rather than any individual character.

you can only restock Supply in towns, and it drops by 1 each time you rest. you can sleep without resting and this won't cost supply, but you won't regain any HP or other resources. this gives you the impactful decision-making of tracking rations without the annoyance of "okay it's been a day of travel, everyone make sure you dock a ration from your sheet" like twice per session

Supply is one of the things that slowly drains your funds and gives you a reason to keep seeking out treasure, tying back into the economy. it also gives merchants and rangers some extra mechanical levers for their class abilities to pull on.

Edit: in the time since writing this post, tactiquest's been released as a public playtest. if this sounds interesting to you, play it here!

[reallyromealone]

Lost and found 2

Angst omegaverse male reader

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

"Sanzu" (name) said disinterested as Mikey, Sanzu and Ran stood outside of the apartment "(name)" he said back as Ran smiled "hello~" he greeted as they were best friends forever "you two can wait outside, I don't want you traumatizing my daughter" (name) said blankly and Sanzu glared but Mikey raised a hand to halt him and the pink haired man glared but complied.

"Take your shoes off" (name) said to him as they closed the door "let me get her, I don't want her surprised or anything" (name) grunted, Mikey watching the Omega walk to the livingroom and quietly talk to the toddler, her little voice mumbling back as it was early in the day, she just finished breakfast after all.

"Ok come" (name) said poking his head around the corner and Mikey tentatively stepped forward, heart racing and feet felt numb as (name) spoke so lovingly to their daughter "sweety, this is Manjiro.. he's your dad" the six year old looked confused as she tilted her head, obsidian eyes looked back at one another "hi..." Mikey said crouching before the little pup who looked at him shyly "hello..." She said back and Mikey felt his heart clench at how precious she was "I brought you something" Mikey said softly, a gift approved by (name) of course.

(Daughters name) looked curious at the gift, the little girl had been really getting into a kids show lately, a power rangers- like show.

She looked starry eyed and (name) cleared his throat and the girl looked at Mikey in realization "thank you!" She gave a little bow and accepted the toy "wanna see my others?" She asked taking his fingers in her tiny hand and Mikey smiled "sure" and let the pup lead him to her toys.

(Name) watched with a heavy heart as the two interacted, the pup shy but still played with her dad none the less.

'hes here for her, not for me' (name) reminded himself when the two locked eyes, this is all for (daughters name) and (name) would make sure she was cared for.

"Roaaar!" She squealed as she played dinosaurs with her dad, the blond smiling softly at how sweet she was "daddy! Look at my Dino!" (Name) smiled at his kid "very cool! What dini is it!"

"T-Rex!"

"Atta girl"

(Name) made sandwiches for the two of them, shaped like dinosaurs of course as that was (daughter name)s current fixation "thank you daddy" she ate her sandwich happily and Mikey noticed (name) hadn't eaten anything "aren't you gonna eat?" Mikey looked over his-- (name) worried and the other looked cold "I'm fine" voice clipped and icy, thankfully Mikey took the hint to drop it.

It was domestic, mikey and (daughters name)...

"So whaddya do?" (Daughters name) asked softly "daddy said you worked veeeeery far away" she looked so precious as she asked, Innocence radiating off if her as Mikey felt his heart break "I work in trade, I had to go for a long time"

(Name) went to the restroom at this time while Mikey continued "I'm sorry I had to be away but I'm here forever"

"Are you gonna be with daddy?"

"I'm working on that" Mikey loved his kid so much, the second he laid eyes on her he knew he would love her forever, his love for the two overflowing.

He didn't miss the hurt look on (name)s face, like he was holding back tears when he believed Mikey and (daughters name) weren't looking, the pain on his face all day.

"This was nice..." Mikey said softly and (name) looked cold at him as their pup had her nap "I want to see her again".

"Then we set ground rules"

"She doesn't go with you alone"

"She eats what I approve and she doesn't miss school unless it's *dire* and even then she is only picked up by me"

"And finally... She is never to be in your business, know about it or even catch a glimpse of it" (name) was dead serious as he stared at Mikey "we play by my rules, I'm not tolerating none of you're shit Sano"

(Name) was the only and will be the only person to get away with talking to him, the Omega finally letting Sanzu and Ran inside now that the pup was sound asleep "long time no see~" ran said merrily and (name) just looked uninterested in him "if you guys plan to follow him, there's rules"

(Name) explained the rules once more, ran pouting and Sanzu looked livid but didn't argue "and for the love of god, no drugs. Ever."

"If any of you pull her into your shit, there's no place on earth that will keep you safe from me" (name) didn't value his life the way he valued his daughters, no matter what she was first on his priority list and he made that clear with everyone.

"She has a schedule, on Saturdays she sleeps over at drakens, they work on bikes together and she's happy, we work around the set schedule" (name) looked done but didn't stop explaining his kids life and plans.

And Mikey listened to every word, taking it in.

The two made plans for the next meeting, until (name) deemed it ok, it would stay at (name)s house.

(Name) just hoped to fucking god that that asshole wouldn't bring his work to (name)s home.

[muraar]

Precursor

Blissful fools or perhaps it was intentional on thier parts, but something existed between the two of you.

Jiyan x reader. Feat song: like you do- joji

Wc: 2k, gn!reader

Mentions of self-destruction?? i mean its nothing heavy, but the reader is implied to have a destructive resonance ability that causes damage to them as well. 

We're not beating the yearning allegations with this one 🗣🗣🗣

Moonlight seeped over the marred backdrop, bathed in the silvery incandescence, the previously war-torn land looked …serene. 

A quaint stillness presided over the expanse, an aftermath they ever ardently sacrificed for, a respite attained through blood and hardships alike. Vestiges loomed over in memories and corporeality alike, but this night, tonight, languid in its wake, made it all the more absolute what it is that they truly fought for. 

The air felt crisp and clean; a cool breeze blew from the west, carrying with it a scent of wood mingled with earthy dirt and the lingering trace of the campfire. The sky above, clear and bright, held no clouds and offered a magnificent display of stars scattered across the horizon, twinkling against the velvet black void.

 It wasn’t often that the General of the Midnight Rangers found himself in such a peaceful pace, so much so that he allowed his eyes to close momentarily, savoring the sensation before slowly opening them again.

The forested hillside stretched on as far as his eye could see, a dark blanket concealing most of the area beyond, though a few small lights dotted the landscape.

“Come here often?” 

Interposed in your mirthful voice, followed soon after by lazy footsteps as you approached him on a leisurely pace, taking measured steps and being mindful of the support sling over your contused left shoulder. Remnant from the recent clash with Overthrax, one that you hoped to don as a proud medallion one day. 

Startled slightly by the sudden intrusion into his thoughts, Jiyan turned around. His golden eyes met yours, reflecting a mix of surprise and relief at your presence. The moonlight played across his angular features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. Despite the weight of recent events, there was a hint of warmth in his expression.

“[Name]”

He acknowledged, a faint frown etched on handsome feathers as he took in your oncoming figure 

“You should be resting” 

His tone was laced with concern that threatened to suggest more than just camaraderie, belying a fierce need to ensure your safety and well-being, which was countered with a light and easygoing chuckle of your own, its timbre reverberating against the tranquil backdrop of the night. 

“You worry too much” 

Came your smooth and curt reply, as you continued your trek toward the teal-haired man, taking nimble footsteps until you stood beside him. Eyes gazing over the expanse laid bare before you, one functional hand reaching out to grip the reinforced railing as you leaned your weight over the cool metal. 

Jiyan watched as you moved towards him, the ease of your gait suggesting a familiarity with pain that made his chest tighten.

“Worry is my duty,”

He responded quietly, turning his attention back to the breathtaking panorama before them

“And perhaps a personal failing.”

His eyes flickered towards you, tracing the curve of your profile against the dark skyline

“Only because you don't seem to worry nearly enough” 

A commonly used and familiar jab at the reckless abandon and lack of self-preservation that followed you every time you set foot in any physical confrontation. You shook your head and let out a sharp breath, smiling inwardly at being chastised like this; it's not like you voluntarily choose to have the resonance power associated with risks. But then again, research directed that resonator abilities were influenced by personal experiences and the subconscious. So perhaps….you weren't completely out of incrimination for these maladaptive tendencies. 

It would be amiss to deny the thrill you felt when your life was on the line, increasingly fluctuating odds fueling adrenaline-infused nerves. There was something incredibly exhilarating about self-destruction. Perhaps the way you could feel your heart racing whenever someone threatened you was a form of excitement, or maybe you were just addicted to the chase and had become so entranced by the thrill of danger you'd given up on ever feeling truly safe and secure-

“It's hard not to care.”

Stern words broke through your impromptu round of introspection and seemed to slip out involuntarily, carrying a weight that surprised even himself. There was another short pause, filled with both contemplative and thoughtful stillness, only broken by the soft rustle of trees against the night wind.

You stood still for just a second or so, facing the moonlight expanse, yet your mind was anything but focused on the twilit spectacle.

“I don't worry…because I don't have to” 

Maneuvering and turning your head slightly, your eyes met his protective depths of golden met with resolute ones of your own. The air seemed to be still, and time slowed even as the moment stretched on. 

“You worry enough for the both of us”

The words left your lips with such ease because, and it was easy, intuitive almost. Somewhere along the lines, along the countless battles faced side by side, it had become second nature for you. Blindly, irrevocably, heading first into the belly of the beast, you threw yourself into the gallows, tested the lines between this world and the nether relm, just like your forte circuit demanded of you.

Danger nipped at skin and mind alike. Each confrontation translated into an intimate play between you and death, and every time you bid farewell to her for a teal-haired anchor that tethered you to the land of the living. 

Was this what people defined as co-dependency? A reckless warrior and a general with concern ingrained into his very being? 

Breaking off the intense eye contact you looked down at the injured limb, cradled underneath meticulous bandage work.

“And I don't regret risking myself” 

The confession was resolute, perhaps careless even as the wind tussled through your wild locks, as if nature acknowledged your tempestuous nature. 

His gaze lingered on your face, studying the lines etched by time and trials, wishing he could somehow protect you from further harm while acknowledging the futility of such thoughts. His mind pondered after a moment's pause, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside him.

“But there comes a point when caution becomes necessary for survival.”

He sighed deeply, hands clutching the railing a bit too forcefully.

“I don't want to see you hurt”

The unspoken plea hung heavy in the air between them, a testament to the depth of unspoken words.

“Careful there, General, you might just start graying with how much you stress out.”

Came your lopsided reply, cutting clean through the heaviness of the conversation at hand. 

Jiyan couldn't help but chuckle softly at your jest, the sound rolling off his tongue with surprising ease. Yet, the humor did nothing to dispel the underlying tension that seemed to permeate every aspect of their interaction.

“Better me than you” 

He admitted ruefully, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“But seeing you safe and well is worth every strand of gray.”

His gaze locked onto yours, the sincerity in those golden orbs impossible to miss.

An amused chuckle escaped unsuspecting lips, crescent crinkles emerged around your eyes as you entertained the notion just spoken of.

"That's...awfully sentimental. Tell me, have you been watching those hero plays?"

Using the moment of inquiry, you turned around unsoldierly, leaning back until your shoulder blades rested against the railing that had grown accustomed to supporting your weight.

Jiyan arched an eyebrow at your comment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.*

“Hardly,”

He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Just stating facts.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, though the intensity in his gaze betrayed the casualness of his words.

“We've been through too much together for me not to care about your wellbeing.”

The admission hung heavily between them, punctuating the charged atmosphere with its weighty significance.

His words caused a soft smile to emerge upon your lips, as a foreign warmth bubbled beneath sternum and the organ that rested underneath.

"Been through enough to elicit care and worry...but not enough to have faith in my abilities?"

Jiyan's expression softened at your words, a flicker of guilt flashing across his features before being swiftly concealed behind a mask of stoicism. He leaned into your side, closing the distance between you two, until only a sliver of moonlight escaped from the rift between the parted lips. 

“I do have faith in your abilities,”

He said earnestly, meeting your gaze head-on.

“It's just...hard to watch someone so dear go through pain and suffering.” 

You let out a sharp breath; the air being forced out of your lungs as you felt your chest spasm and convulse, your demeanor tempered by the sheer discipline ingrained in your very being.

“Pain and suffering, huh?”

You mused as the conscious reeled through the twists and turns that led and shaped your life as it is today. 

The life you chose. 

Or was it the one fate forced you to tread on?

All these years on this planet and the real depths of your impulses eluded you still.

“They seem to be the staples of this life though...and better me than some poor innocent soul out there”

But at least there was reassurance that your hands of violence were good for something. At least there was consolation in the fact that your fists weren't merely tools meant to tear apart lives, they were weapons that protected. And if you were destined to die young in battle it was best to die doing your part. To die with honor, a worthy cause.

To die as someone who had earned the privilege of a life worth remembering.

Jiyan nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line as he considered your words.

“You're not wrong”

He conceded after a moment's pause.

“And I suppose it doesn't make sense for me to shield you from everything. And I'm aware of the irrationality of my sentiments. But know this - every time you're hurt or put yourself in danger, it feels like a part of me is ripped away.” 

His voice was heavy with emotion, belying the depth of his feelings for you.

“Then give it to me” 

Words rolled past your lips with no premonition of consideration behind them, instinctual, thoughtless. 

"Join that part with me," 

Your voice a brazen whisper, its emergence a stark act of rebellion against modus vivendi dictated by logic alone. 

"so that it's never ripped away again."

Those words imitated a dare, challenging fate and hearts alike. 

Jiyan's heart raced as he gazed deeply into your eyes, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily upon his soul. A thousand unspoken promises danced between them, their connection forged by shared experiences and a bond that transcended mere camaraderie. Something primal stirred within him - an ancient longing that transcended reason and logic alike.

Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned forward slowly until his lips brushed lightly against yours. 

“I want to be connected to you…more than anything”

He whispered hoarsely against your mouth, feeling a surge of heat course through his veins at the contact. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt the warmth of your breath ghost across his face, the tantalizing scent of your perfume filling his senses.

Just as lips were about to touch, a shrill beeping sound pierced through the silence. Both of them froze mid-movement. Their Pangu terminal vibrated on both ends. The holographic screen flashed with an urgent message from the city: Incoming threat detected.

The spellbinding moment shattered like fragile glass underfoot, scattering fragments of desire and passion across the floor. Leaving them both gasping for air like fish out of water. Jiyan blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the lingering effects of their near-kiss.

The message was clear: duty called.

Without another word, he turned to face you fully – only to find that you had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a gentle tussle of wind and torn bandages, in your wake.

---------------------------

a/n

Jiyan convene fucked me over so badly. i cannot even tell you, because its downright embarrassing.

just know that i have him now, somehow.

mans not getting any happy ending from me 😒😒😒. Keep pining and yearning you mf !!! YOU AINT GETTING LAID !!!

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Just Friends, Chapter One:

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, mutual pining, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 34), angst??, masturbation (m))

wc: 2k

joel masterlist | series masterlist

Joel feels weak when he sees you.

That’s the best word for it. Weak. A complete lack of control—of power. Logic and reason are nothing but incoherent mumbles in the background every time you’re in the same room as him, even worse when you look into his eyes and speak his name.

He hadn’t felt this sort of tug towards someone in years, and the unfamiliar sensation of needing to simply see you at least once a day in order to function properly was beginning to consume him. He didn’t know what to do to rid himself of this infatuation, avoiding you was impossible and so was getting closer thanks to that 30-something year old patrol ranger you called your boyfriend.

He watched the two of you together as though it was his job. He watched the way you seemed to keep him at an arm’s length when the two of you were out together, always sandwiching yourself between your friends rather than beside the man you were supposed to love.

He couldn’t help but wonder what the two of you were like in private.

It couldn’t be a very passionate affair, that much he knew. Real passion wasn’t so easily concealed. It was consuming, drawing you like a magnet to your partner, burrowing beneath your skin, creating an itch to be near them—to be touching them. It couldn’t be an affair of passion.

Just now, he’s sat in his usual seat in the corner of the bar, his back pressing to the padded walls of the booth, his hand holding a crystal glass filled with whiskey, his brows drawn together, his eyes locked on the back of your head as you ordered a drink, your friend next to you. Joel wants to stand up, walk over, and offer to buy your drink right in front of him just to see the look on your face.

Would you tell him to fuck off? Or would you say yes?

The laugh you let out in response to something your boyfriend whispers into your ear stops Joel from finding out.

“God, I need a drink,” Ellie sighs as she emerges from nowhere, her backpack being shrugged onto the floor as she sits down across from Joel.

“Tough day learnin’ your ABC’s?” he quips, his tone still flat from the war jealousy was waging inside of his head.

“Ha-ha,” she replies, just as dry. She knocks her knuckles on the wooden table as she watches his eyes drift back to you, now seated at a table just five or so feet away from him—too close for his comfort. Downing his drink, he shifts his eyes back to Ellie in time to catch her chuckling at him.

“What?” he asks, tilting his head at her as though he were begging her not to read him as easily as she does.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head and laughs again before reaching over the table to swig the finger of whiskey left inside Joel’s glass.

“Hey,” he calls as he catches her mid sip, stealing the glass back. “They got rules about kids drinkin’, you know that. You itchin’ for another lecture from Maria about followin’ the rules?”

“No,” she replies. “It’s a bullshit rule anyway.”

“No, it ain’t,” he sighs as your laughter fills the room again, his chest panging causing him to physically wince. “I’m ready to go home. You comin’ or you stayin’?”

“Staying,” she says, grabbing her backpack and setting it on the table. “Have homework to finish and your sad country music being blared through the house isn’t going to help keep me focused.”

“Don’t disrespect my sad country music,” he warned playfully as he stood up with a grunt, finishing the little whiskey left in his glass in one gulp. “I’ll see ya back at home by curfew.”

“About that…” Ellie looked up at Joel with a hopeful smile. “Dina invited me over to spend the night—“

“Dina can spend the night at ours,” he argued, that protective streak of his making it’s usual appearance.

“Dina and I don’t wanna watch you drink and sing along to George Jones, dude,” she replied, frowning up at him until he broke.

“Fine. But you’re back in time for breakfast tomorrow.” Ellie grinned as she nodded at him, his eyes rolling and a chuckle escaping his chest. “Spoiled.”

As Joel starts to make his exit, he stops at the bar to deliver his empty glass and pay off his bill. That’s where you find him.

“Hey,” you start, hoping to conceal your deeply hidden crush on the older man with friendliness. Joel’s head turns to you so quickly you swear you hear his neck crack, his unreadable eyes locking on yours as though you were some sort of apparition he was almost certain wasn’t actually there. “I just wanted to come over. Say hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, choked and unprepared. Clearing his throat, he tips his head towards your table. “I saw you were with your friends, otherwise I would’a came over and said somethin’.”

“You can always come over and say something,” you assure, fighting the urge to bat your eyes at him as you give him a smile. The man whose coat you’re wearing lingers in the back of your mind as you stare at the man you’ve wanted since he arrived.

“How’s the new fence treatin’ ya?” he asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he leans a shoulder onto the bar and faces you. You think back to the weekend he spent building your white picket fence last month, free of charge. The way his arms looked in a t-shirt as he sawed away at the wood still makes you dizzy.

“Well, it’s still upright so…you must’ve done a good enough job on it,” you offer with a smirk, earning the slightest of chuckles. You always wondered why everyone seemed to think he didn’t have a sense of humor, he seemed to find you funny enough. “I, uh, also came over to invite you over to my place tomorrow evening.”

You watch as Joel’s brow lifts with interest.

“Oh yeah? You throwin’ a party or somethin’?” he asks.

“My birthday,” you shrug. “Figured I’ve gone twenty years without celebrating it, might as well.”

“That’s what this place is supposed to be about,” he says. “Doin’ normal things again.”

“Exactly,” you smile, ignoring the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he mimicks it. “So, can I count you in?”

“Long as you got somethin’ to drink.” You laugh and nod in reassurance. “Well, I’m in, then.”

“Alright, I’ll let you escape before someone else comes up and tries to talk to you,” you offer, reaching your hand over to touch his arm. Joel looks down at the contact before meeting your eyes again, something unreadable lingering in his dark irises that makes you flustered enough to pull your hand away. “I’ll see you.”

“See ya,” he replies, quiet as he taps the counter with his knuckles before turning and walking off. Your eyes couldn’t help but lower to his fist as it hung by his side, clenching and unclenching. With a subtle but deep breath, you turn around and walk back to your table—back to your boyfriend and all of his perfection that bores you beyond belief.

“Why did you go up to him?” Josie, a friend of yours, asks as you return to your spot at the table and reach for your beer to wash down the lingering desire.

“I invited him to my party,” you replied, shrugging as you gave her a confused look. “What?”

“Babe,” your boyfriend, Will, chuckles. “He’s…old.”

“And an ass,” Josie adds. You roll your eyes at them, knowing that neither of them ever had a real conversation with Joel, making their opinion of him mute. “Did he say yes?��

“Yes,” you chuckle, amused by the shock on their faces. “We’re friends!”

“Since when?” Josie asks with a hearty laugh.

“Since always,” you reply with a shrug before continuing, “I helped show him around when he got here since I’m right across the street.” Josie looks to Will and then Will looks to you, a look of amused confusion on his handsome face. “He’s a nice guy when you get to know him.”

“Maybe, but he’s also old enough to be our father,” Will argues. You roll your eyes at the reality of the age gap between you and your secret crush, twenty-two years to be exact.

“There are only so many people our age in Jackson, honey,” you say, irritation thick in your tone. “And besides, just because he’s older means I shouldn’t be friendly to him? We’re just gonna start shunning every person in Jackson above what, fifty?”

“You know what,” Will starts, reaching his hand over to rub your back, his warm touch only making you feel colder. “You’re right. We’ll be friendly to him too. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, lifting your beer up to your lips, wishing more than anything that the man touching you was someone else.

Joel’s in bed, his drunk thoughts centering around you. Around the way you smiled up at him as though you had no clue that his heart was beating out of his chest. Maybe you didn’t, but how could you not notice his sweaty palms, the nervous twitch of his lips when you forced a smile onto his face?

He was sure he was going to lose it completely when your hand came to rest on his arm. He wanted to run and at the same time wanted to get closer, to feel you too. But, the falter in your smile once his eyes met yours and your hand leaving his arm so abruptly it hurt grounded him back to reality. The one in which you were a taken woman and he was a man twenty years older.

It makes him feel sick when he tries not to think about you, so he doesn’t bother as he reaches his hand over his briefs and grips his swelling girth in an attempt to soothe the throbbing ache there. He grunts as he strokes himself through the fabric, just enough to build himself up slowly.

He thinks of you. He thinks of that weekend he built your fence. He thinks about the way you looked in the sun, the green grass beneath you as you sat out on the lawn and kept him company. He thinks about your legs, bare in the summer heat, your denim shorts cut short enough to make him turn red when you rolled over to lay on your stomach.

As he rubbed his thumb over the now weeping head of his cock, he imagined what it would be like to take those shorts off of you. To lay claim to what lies underneath. He moans as he imagines the sounds he’d pull from you.

Pulling his briefs down enough that his cock was springing free, he licks his hand and grips himself at the base, another choked moan slipping free as his fist glides up and then down again, over and over.

He wonders what you’re like in bed, how you like it, if you’d let him take control or demand it for yourself. It didn’t really matter, he remembers, not when he’d never have the chance of finding out.

When he cums, he groans, his fist stroking up and down, gathering his spend to help ease the glide of his hand until he’s finally had his fill. With a sigh, he lets his head fall back against his pillow, his eyes on the ceiling fan spinning above him.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he curses himself.

It doesn’t work.

•

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•

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[narcissisticmf]

say don't go | aragorn x fem!reader

description: getting ready to leave for battle leads to an unexpected conversation.

trigger warnings: angst, mentions of violence, some sexism, daughter of gandalf!reader, witch!reader, etc. read at your own risk.

word count: <1k

You squeezed through the many bodies of men that were amongst the camp. Searching for Aragorn, your tired eyes bounced from tent to tent, hoping he would appear eventually.

Across the camp, Aragorn was saddling his horse. You took the opportunity to approach him as he was seeming to be leaving somewhere in secret; without Legolas and Gimli, more evidently.. without you (you observed).

"You're leaving?" You questioned with a subtly firmness which you did not intend.

Aragorn saw you, eyes locked for a moment before parting his lips to speak, "This I must do alone, Y/N."

You nearly rolled your eyes, but fought yourself from doing so and remained still. The crickets sung, filling the silence between the both of you. He stared at you with reluctance, but continued to saddle his horse.

"So you're no longer the ranger from the North, are you?" You questioned and looked at you. "You are the King of Gondor.. protecting his people, is that right?"

"Y/N, I need you here protecting these warriors. You are more powerful than any of us all together," Aragorn explained, stepping toward you away from the stallion. "I am leaving to summon an army that will defend us, we do not have the numbers and you know that."

"That is precisely why I should be going with you, you'll die back there," You stated, blankly.

"I do not fear death," He replied.

"You have far too much pride, Aragorn," You whispered, lowly.

"You will stay here and protect these men," He ignored your insult.

"That is what I am to do? Stay here and watch you go?" You bit off, frustratedly.

"I must do this alone, Y/N," Aragorn repeated more what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

You were beyond frustrated now. It felt as though you were conversing with a stone wall. Aragorn never doubted your abilities and your magic, but now it felt like you were merely a woman being told to stand back while a man took care of other matters of business.

Unaware of your emotions, your eyes filled with tears and became red. You were angry more than anything and reached your hand up into a fist. Aragorn watched you with a furrow in his brow. His pupils large as he slowly gripped your wrist, ever so gently.

"Tell me to stay," Aragorn spoke softly to you as you looked to him with an emotionless expression, though tears continued to fall. "Say don't go," He added.

"I cannot tell you that," You replied, wanting more than anything to.

"I don't understand," Aragorn lowered your hand as it was no longer balled in a fist. "A moment ago you are angry that I go alone, now you tell me you can't say you don't wish for me to leave."

"What I want is to join you, Aragorn," You told him with pure vexation. "I never felt like just a hopeless woman with you until this very moment. I cannot tell you to stay, but I can come with you. I can make sure that you do not end up dead."

Aragorn stared at you for a moment longer before his lips curved into a soft smile, "You're almost as stubborn as Gandalf."

"I learned from the best," You whispered and a snicker left your lips shortly after. "Don't unsuspect that Legolas and Gimli won't be coming along as well," You warned with a small, thin smile.

Aragorn's lips curved into a pleasing smile in response.

.

a/n: i don't know how i feel about this. is it good?? idk how to feel!! needless to say, i hope you enjoyed this sweetpeas! this is my first lotr fic and i'll definitely be doing more! mwah! be safe and happy (almost) halloween! <33 — angelina.

[numinousmysteries]

The Baying of the Six-Pound Hound

For the @twocakesficfest (several months too late) prompt:

immortal / invincible queeqeg who likes to show up and mess up a case or two (probably by eating the victim - e.g. Mulder: the victim walked away, cut to a tiny dog dragging a leg away)

A very special thank you to @leiascully for catching all my nauseating tense changes, ensuring I didn't accidentally summon any evil spirits, and making me work a tiny bit more to get them smooching.

[on Ao3]

1. 

He'd been in an uncharacteristically deep sleep when the yapping woke him up, which made it all the more annoying. It was rare for him to be so fully disconnected from the waking world. Typically, he'd float just below the surface of consciousness, the smallest noise enough to rouse him. But on this night, in a narrow, single-story motor lodge wedged up in the Colorado mountains, Fox Mulder had been completely, deeply, aslumber.

He'd been dreaming, too. Not his usual fretful nightmare but a rather sweet dream that featured his partner. It wasn't the first time he dreamt about her, although those dreams were typically of a more erotic nature and would leave him waking up feeling filthy with guilt—and more often than not, rock hard. He'd dream of bending her over the desk in their basement office, burying himself in her, and hearing her soft little moans as he gripped the curves of her hips. Or they'd be on the couch in his apartment and she'd be in his lap, riding him as he watched the smooth undulation of her breasts. These dreams would send him to the shower full of shame. He'd shut his eyes and take himself in his fist, gripping his cock with a firmness that bordered on pain to break the mounting tension with enough self-punishment that he could face Scully in the morning.

But this most recent dream left nothing to be ashamed of. They were walking hand-in-hand, fully-clothed, down a Georgetown street near her apartment. The sun warmed his face and Scully's small hand fit perfectly in his. They weren't in pursuit of a suspect or off to meet an informant, just strolling aimlessly like two people in love. In a way, this mundane dream felt more illicit than his most perverse fantasies because it seemed like more than anything he deserved. He could better imagine a tense moment, even an argument between them, dissolving into frenzied sex than allow himself to indulge the idea of a happy, out-in-the-open relationship with Scully. Which was why this dream was so lovely—and why it had been so frustrating when the yapping shocked him awake.

It sounded like Queequeg. But Scully didn't bring the dog with her on cases, not since– Shit , he remembered. Scully's annoying little furball of a dog, whom she inexplicably loved (which, he considered fleetingly, might bode well for her capacity to love other irritating beings), had died on the shore of Heuvelmans Lake, eaten by an alligator, or Big Blue, depending on who you asked.

The barking must have been coming from one of the neighboring rooms. But Scully was in the room to his left and the room to his right had appeared to be unoccupied when they arrived. 

By the time he showered, dressed, and made it outside to meet Scully at the rental car, she was already waiting for him with a cup of bitter coffee from the urn in the motel lobby. 

"That dog wake you up, too?" he asked.

She arched an eyebrow at him as she sipped from her styrofoam cup. "What dog?"

"Nevermind," he said, unlocking the car door.

They snaked around the mountain to the ranger station where they'd planned to meet the park ranger who’d supposedly spotted the Slide Rock Bolter. The Bolter, according to legend, was a giant landfish with a forked tail that could pick up a lumberjack and split him in two. It also had the jaw of a whale, the teeth of a shark, and the power to cause avalanche-like rock slides, hence the name. The ranger who contacted Mulder claimed that his partner, who’d gone missing the previous week, had been swallowed whole by the Bolter.

Their interview proved to be less than illuminating and they spent the rest of the afternoon hiking the mountain on their own searching for the creature. The high altitude left them both breathless so they were slower than usual as they ascended. Mulder was annoyed that they couldn't cover more ground before the sun started to set. Their descent was even slower as neither had brought the right shoes and they found themselves stumbling down the rocks and grasping onto each other for support.

Then, he saw it. A flash of auburn darting between a row of skeletal aspen trees. He gasped. 

"What is it?" she asked, turning back to face him. 

"I saw something," he said. 

"The Slide Rock Bolter?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Probably just a fox. Maybe a coyote.” Although, if he were being honest,  it kind of looked like a small dog.

Scully shrugged, turned away from him, and started heading back down the mountain. 

2.

He didn’t want to say anything, but Scully's apartment smelled bad. It normally smelled nice. Like the candles she lights or even freshly baked bread, even though he knows she doesn't bake bread. But now, it smelled like wet dog. He specifically wouldn't bring that up because she hadn't owned a dog in nearly a year now. For reasons that might have been, depending on who you asked, his fault.

He tried to hide his disgust as he spread open a file of photographs on her kitchen table, but the odor was truly overpowering. It was as if Queequeg—or let's say any anonymous dog who had not been eaten by, depending on who was telling the story, Big Blue or an alligator—had been mucking around in sewer water after not bathing for several weeks.

"Sorry, Scully, but what's that smell?" he asked finally. He felt his stomach contents rising to his throat, and it wasn’t because of the gruesome crime scene photos on the table.

She paused and tilted her chin up to the ceiling. He watched as she sniffed the air in sharp, short inhales through her perfectly proportioned nose.

"I don't smell anything," she said. 

"Really?" he asked, stunned. "It smells like—and I don't mean to bring up any unpleasant memories—wet dog in here."

She sniffed again, then shrugged. "I really don't smell it," she said, shaking her head. "But I can open a window if you want."

"Nah, it's okay."

He tried to run through his explanation of the case as quickly as possible. Three victims found without tongues, but no evidence of any procedure or act that would've resulted in the loss of said tongues which, their friends and family members insisted, were surely present before their deaths.

"The killer could be a surgeon and have access to fine tools or even lasers for seamless cuttage," she said, examining the autopsy photos.

"Mmmhmm, mmhmm," he nodded, trying to open his mouth as little as possible to keep the scent out. "But there's no sign of cutting or scarring. Which there surely would be if the procedure was performed so recently? None of the victims were missing for more than 24 hours—and all had been seen, with tongue no less, within a day. No wound could heal that fast, right?"

"So, what's your theory?" she asked. "Cat got their tongue?"

She was pleased with her little joke and gave him a rare, precious Scully grin. He wanted to at least humor her with a laugh but the mention of a cat—so close to a dog that smelled like crap—made his stomach gurgle yet again and he had to swallow sharply to keep the acidic bile down.

"You okay, Mulder?"

"Yeah, it's just...that smell. It's nauseating."

She shook her head again, that long neck taunting him. "I'm a little concerned," she said. "Are you feeling alright? A sinus infection could cause phantosmia. Or a head injury. Although you weren't banged up much on our last case."

"I'm fine," he said. "Anyway, it's not a cat I'm thinking of, but a cannibalistic spirit documented by Algonquian-speaking Native American tribes in the Northern US and Canadian wilderness.” 

"A wendigo?" she asked, eyebrow arched and ready to fire.

“Very impressive, Scully,” he grinned. “Although you should know that merely saying the spirit’s name is considered taboo. Some believe doing so could summon it into being.” 

She rolled her eyes.

He swallowed hard, and continued. “The spirit possesses a man, who then becomes unable to resist the temptation to eat human flesh. Specifically, the delicacy of the tongue."

"So you think a possessed person ate the victims' tongues?"

"Perhaps," he says. "And the legend goes that because it's actually the spirit feasting on human flesh—not the killer himself—there are no wounds where the tongue is removed. It also explains how these victims lost more than half their blood volume with no signs of trauma."

"It could be severe gastrointestinal bleeding," she said, ignoring his theory. "Perhaps as the result of a communicable illness which would explain why three members of the same community died in the same manner."

"So you think they shat out all their blood?"

"It's not unheard of," she shrugged. “Have any of the victims traveled to a region where ebola is endemic?” 

It was all making him nauseous now. He thought he'd gotten used to it after being in the room for a few minutes but the smell, if anything, was getting worse.

He felt vomit rising into his mouth and cupped  his hand over his lips. "Sorry, Scully. I gotta--" he started before bolting to her bathroom and puking into the toilet. 

"Are you okay?" she asked when he re-entered the room, eyes bloodshot.

"I think I'm coming down with something," he said. "Listen, why don't you take a look at those photos and we'll discuss more in the office tomorrow. I better get going."

"Jeez, Mulder, if I didn't know any better I'd think you were pregnant, between the heightened sense of smell and the vomiting. But that sounds like one of your theories, not mine."

"Very funny, Scully," he said, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair and heading to the door.

In the hallway, he gasped a sigh of relief. Whatever disgusting dog odor permeated Scully's apartment fortunately hadn't made its way out here. 

3.

At first, he thought the sharp prick at his heel was Scully's toenails. He was about to tease her about trimming them when he realized she was sitting beside him on her couch with her feet tucked underneath her. They were back at her apartment a week later debriefing their previous case. He hadn’t been able to prove the existence of a cannibalistic spirit and she hadn’t been able to come up with a plausible scientific explanation so they were left in their typical stalemate. Although the animal smell had dissipated, he couldn’t shake the sense that something was off. 

He was listening to her recount her autopsy findings when— fuck , there was that sharp biting sensation again. He involuntarily kicked out his foot as if fending off an invisible ankle-height assailant. 

"What's wrong?" Her eyes popped open. 

"Shit, sorry Scully," he said, trying to settle back down. "I could've sworn something was biting my ankle.”

"Biting?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he trailed off, folding in half to examine the carpet underneath the sofa. "Almost like a little dog."

"Like Queequeg?" She smirked. 

"Actually, yeah, I think that's exactly what it was like. Like that fur ball was nibbling at my heels.” 

“I don’t have to tell you that’s impossible.” He detected a hint of sadness in her voice and his heart sank, not for the first time, for all that their work had taken from her.

He opened his mouth to tell her about the other recent events—the barking sound, the flash of auburn in the Colorado wilderness, the wet fur smell of her apartment—but he knew she’d just dismiss it all.

“What?” she asked, sensing he was on the verge of revealing something. As if they were on a case and he was holding back a vital piece of information. Something he had been guilty of doing in the past, he knew, but he usually had a valid reason. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Mulder….” She dipped her chin down as her eyes bore into his.

Powerless against her, he told her everything. "Maybe he's haunting you," he concluded.

"Oh, no, Mulder," she said definitively. "I don't think it's me he's haunting."

4.

They decided to hold a seance the next day. Scully sneered at first but ultimately went along with it without needing too much convincing. She still had Queequeg’s leash and collar, so they set up a small shrine on her coffee table. She gathered a mismatched array of candles from the bathroom and living room and put them around Queequeg's memorabilia.

"How does this work?" she asked. 

He considered reminding her that she'd demonstrated the ability to transcend the boundary between the living and the dead in the past, but that would have required bringing up her father, which would have put a damper on this otherwise delightful evening. Scully felt warm next to him and they were essentially hanging out without the pretense of a case. Sure, they were having a seance for a dead dog, but how else would the two of them bond after hours?

"Let's just close our eyes, hold hands, and try to summon his spirit."

"Is this just an excuse to hold hands, Mulder?"

"Any excuse I can get," he said, as he reached out to take her hand in his. He hoped it came off as a joke, but he really did mean it. It felt so good to hold her hand when neither of them were near death. 

"Mary Todd Lincoln used to host the nation's most renowned spiritualists at the White House for seances to speak with her late son," Mulder said, trying to lend an air of legitimacy to their makeshift session. "Even honest Abe would sometimes make an appearance."

"Don't we need a medium?" Scully asked, keeping a firm hold on his hand. 

"I figure you could play the role, Madame Scully," he said, tipping his chin in her direction. She smiled. He liked making her smile. Her smile always had the effect of flicking a switch deep in his belly that felt like the delicate flutter of a butterfly's wings.

"I think Melissa and I had a Ouija board back in the day."

"Pfft," he snorted. "The Ouija board is a purely commercial invention. I don't think anything made in the same factory as Chutes and Ladders can be trusted to commune with the dead."

Scully smirked. "I assumed Ouijia boards would fit right in with the Fox Mulder cosmology."

"Then, Scully," he said, shaking his head, "I don't think you know me at all."

He grinned at her and she smiled back. 

"So, how do we start this thing?" she asked.

"First, we have to close the circle." He extended his free hand to hers and she squeezed tightly onto it.

They stood silently for a beat, facing each other, holding hands. He wasn't actually sure if there was a spiritualist reason for creating the closed circle, but it had to have roots in ancient concepts of energy channeling. He'd done silly little seances in college, typically led by witchy girls with dyed black hair and crystal jewelry, and they always stressed the importance of not breaking the circle. Once he had taken the time to dive into the occult and 19th century spiritualism—the heyday of the modern seance—he couldn't find anything on the importance of maintaining a circle. But then again, if holding one of Scully's hands was nice, holding both of them was even better.

He closed his eyes and, without saying anything, sensed that she'd closed hers, too. He relished the trust she placed in him, listening as her breathing slowed and deepened. He inhaled the heady mix of candles they'd gathered from around the apartment. Vanilla and eucalyptus mingled in the air with musk and gardenia and he suspected these weren't all supposed to be lit at once, but somehow it worked. 

"Do you want me to say something?" she asked, her soft voice drifting over to him in the dark.

"Um, if you want," he said.

She paused, then began. "Queequeg, we welcome your spirit into our circle. If you're near us, please make your presence known."

"Not bad, Scully," he said, giving her hands a squeeze.

"Melissa used to do this crap all the time."

"Hey, don't rain on my parade over here."

"Sorry," she said with a giggle that set his soul aflame.

"We miss you, Queequeg, you were a good dog," she went on. "You didn't always smell the best, especially when you were flatulent, which seemed to be more often than not—"

"What were you feeding that dog?" Mulder interrupted.

"Shut up," she said. "But no matter how poorly you smelled at times, I loved you very much and truly enjoyed the time we spent together. If you've come back because you're angry at Mulder for leading you to your demise at the hands of an alligator—"

"Or Big Blue," he piped up.

She tugged on his hands and ignored him. "If you're angry at Mulder, he'd like to take this chance to apologize and request your forgiveness so you can transition on to the next plane in peace."

"Scully, this isn't half bad," he said, genuinely impressed. 

"It's your turn now—go on, apologize."

"Are you serious?"

"Do you want him to stop haunting you or not?"

Mulder smiled and tried to convey his happiness through their grasped hands.

"Queequeg, this is Mulder speaking. I want to apologize for calling you names and dragging you out to Heuvelmans Lake where you met your untimely demise. I wish we could have spent more time together with Scully—” 

She cut him off with an adorable snort of a laugh.

"—listening to Scully talk. And have Scully check us for fleas and ticks."

Her giggle was a full-blown laugh now. He was desperate to open his eyes and see her face light up. but he’d bought into this seance, so he wasn’t about to break it now.

"I checked you for ticks once , Mulder," she said. "And that was because we'd just spent the night in the woods."

"Well, you're welcome to check again any time."

"I think we're getting off topic," she said, collecting herself. "Keep talking to Queequeg."

5.

There was no gust of wind, flickering light, or even jingling collar bells ringing through the room after he finished speaking, but they both sensed a change. It was as if a six-pound weight had been lifted. 

"I think his spirit is free," Scully whispered to him, solemnly. 

"Run free, Queequeg," he said. He gently opened his eyes and found that hers were open too, and she was looking at him warmly. Despite her reputation for being cold and closed off, he knew that Scully emanated warmth. Once she let someone into her life, she’d hold them in her warmth and protect them with her loyalty. He was only slightly peeved that she had opened herself up to Queequeg before him.

She loved with a fierceness and dedication outsized for her tiny frame. Then again, everything about Scully was larger than her small size would suggest. Her brilliance, her strength, and yes, her love, all seemed like they should overwhelm someone so tiny, but Scully managed to contain it all in just a few inches over five feet.

In that way, she was  like Queequeg. An outsized force stuffed into a small package, with a tuft of auburn hair, who would bite if necessary. He wouldn't dare compare her to Queequeg out loud, though.

Instead, he said, "He was a good dog."

"I thought you couldn't stand him."

"I don't know if we ever saw eye to eye, per se, although that might've been more of a height issue." He gave her a crooked smile. "But I know you liked him, that he kept you company."

"That makes me sound pretty pathetic," she sighed. 

"I didn't mean that. Just that—" he paused to choose his words carefully—"it's nice to come home to someone. I know fish aren't really the same as dogs, but sometimes it's soothing to see them after a long day of the shit we deal with. It just helps me put things in perspective—I'm dealing with lies and gaslighting and conspiracies, and they're just obliviously swimming along and enjoying their lives. A dog must be similar, I imagine."

"Yeah," she nodded. "It was like that with Queequeg. Whenever I'd get frustrated with work or with you"— he gasped in mock outrage and she just smiled and continued—"he'd always be here and look so excited to go for a walk or get his dinner. The consistency was comforting. And he was good at cuddling. He'd get so warm, like a little ball of heat."

"You know, Scully," he started, "I'm available for cuddling if you're ever feeling cold."

“I’ll keep that under consideration.” She smiled. “For now, want to stick around for a glass of wine?”

“Sure,” he said, and she disappeared into the kitchen to fetch a bottle and glasses. 

"I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to speak with Queequeg's spirit," he said when she returned,  accepting a glass of red wine from her. 

Settled into the opposite corner of the couch, Scully sat with her legs scrunched up underneath herself with her own glass of wine. He couldn't deal with how precious she looked—nor with how far away she sat.

"Get over here, Scully," he said, patting the cushion next to him.

She smiled, untucked her legs, and moved to scoot over next to him. He transferred his wine glass to his left hand so he could drape his right arm over her shoulder. 

"Maybe Queequeg just has to realize that I'm not a threat to you," he said. Emboldened by her lack of response to his arm over hers, he started lazily tracing circles on her tricep. "Then he'll stop haunting me."

"You're not a threat to me," she said, seriously.

"Come on, Scully." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I'm responsible for so much shit that's happened to you over the years. If I were a little Pomeranian in love with you, I'd do everything in my six-pound power to make this Mulder guy's life a living hell."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think Queequeg was in love with me?"

"How could he not be?" he spit out without even thinking. "I mean—" he tried to recover—"you took good care of him."

Scully just gave him a Cheshire cat grin. She wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

"You think that's all it takes to fall in love with me? If I take care of you?"

"Well, there are lots of reasons a guy—or a dog—could fall in love with you. You're loyal, kind, and caring. You're fucking brilliant. And you're not half-bad to look at either."

"’Not half-bad,’” she repeated, frowning. “I’m flattered, really.” 

“Give me a break. I’m trying to play it cool here,” he admitted. 

She blushed and took a sip of her wine. He did, too, as if trying to use the alcohol to mask his sudden confession. Although it was his first sip and he'd been drunk in love with her for longer than he cared to admit.

"Oh, fuck it," he said. He leaned forward to set the wine glass on the coffee table and pivoted to face her. Bravely, he delved into uncharted territory. "You're breathtakingly beautiful, Scully. I'm not about to speculate on what got Queequeg's gears going, but if he's anything like me, he wouldn't be able to resist you. Frankly, I'm jealous of how many nights he got to spend in your bed."

"I didn't allow him in the bed."

He smiled wide. “Of course you didn't," he said. "Because you know about things like pet dander and how sleeping with a dog in your bed can interrupt your REM cycle and that's another reason why you're so lovable.”

“You’re making me sound more anal-retentive than lovable.” She looked up at him with sad eyes before quickly glancing down again. 

“Oh, Scully, you know that’s now what I mean.” He leaned forward to nudge her shoulder with his. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, her eyes still downcast. 

“Just that—” He paused, struggling to find the words. “You’re so you , Scully. You’re so fully realized, so completely yourself, but not in a way that makes you predictable or boring. It just makes it all the more thrilling when I learn something new about you that somehow both surprises me and fits into the puzzle of what makes you you.”

“And that fact that I didn’t let a dog sleep in my bed somehow makes me more lovable?” 

“It does to me.” He brought the tip of his pointer finger to her chin, softly encouraging her to look back toward him. “What I’m trying, and apparently failing, to say is that I love everything about you. I love that you’re particular and exacting. I love that you force me to be honest and vigorous in our work, and I love that you’re part of my life outside of work, too. And while there’s nothing I value more than our friendship, I hope I’m not being too presumptive to say that I’m getting the feeling we’d both like to be more than friends.”

Terrified, he searched her eyes for confirmation, any sign that his feelings were reciprocated. But she simply stared back at him, her chin wrinkling as she considered his words.

“Although, I suppose, sharing your bed with a creature a lot larger than a Pomeranian might be much more disruptive to your sleep cycle,” he added. 

“I might not mind the interruption,” she said finally, her voice low and breathy, her eyes still locked on his.  

“Even from your defiant, alien-chasing, nutjob of a partner?” 

“Do you mean my incredibly tenacious, intelligent, and loyal partner for whom I might just harbor similar feelings?” 

"Do you think Queequeg would approve?" he asked.

"Let's find out," she said. Before he could question her, Scully's lips were pressed against his. She tasted like tannin-rich wine but also something deeper and more Scully-like: warm and tangy with other unidentifiable undertones that he could drink from his whole life and never get enough of.

He took her wine glass from her and placed it next to his on the coffee table. With both hands free, she felt her way up his arms to frame his face. His own hands wandered wildly, up her back, through her hair, on her soft and tender cheeks. She opened her mouth to him and he tasted her tongue with his. He felt his body responding to her kiss—and judging on how she was squirming and shifting her hips towards him, he knew she was responding as well.

Just as he was about to slip a hand up and underneath her feather-soft sweater to caress the even softer skin underneath, he heard a low, deep growl off in the distance.

He pulled away and faced Scully, puzzled.

“That couldn’t be—”

“No,” she interrupted. “I heard it, too. I think my neighbors down the hall got an English bulldog. It’s not a ghost.” 

“Good enough for me.”

“I should kiss you more often if it gets you to agree so easily.” She smiled at him, inching even closer on the couch.

“I think you should test that theory, Agent Scully.” 

She leaned in again. This time, there were no howls or growls interrupting them.

[amomentsescape]

hey, how are you doing?

I would like to ask for a one shot (Victor Zsasz x Female!reader) where the reader is kidnapped and used as a bait by some guys that wanna kill Zsasz.

Risk and Protect

Victor Zsasz x Female! Reader

Summary: Victor goes on a mission to save you after past enemies decide they want revenge on him.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, and Victor's scars

Word Count: 1,525

A/N: I've always loved fics like this. And I'm doing great, thank you for asking! I hope you're doing good too!

Victor has a lot of enemies. It only makes sense for someone who kills random people for a living. But he never really worried about it for a while.

He was a lone ranger of sorts, only working with the Zsaszettes in a professional manner. And after letting himself get close to Falcone and feeling that pain of losing him, Victor promised himself he wouldn't let his own attachments get in the way again. It was for the best.

But then you happened. Of course, you walked into his life when he least expected it.

And although Victor is a smart man, he couldn't logically find a way to let you go. His heart won, but he always worried that this would end up being a mistake.

And today, he really believed it was.

He quite literally had eyes on you 24/7. If it wasn't his own, then it was a couple of the Zsaszettes. He knew that there were people out there to get him. And no matter how hard he tried to hide you away and keep you safe, he knew that he could only do so much.

Victor had a lot of hits today, so he assigned a couple Zsaszettes to watch over you while he was out. He promised you he'd be back that night to spend time with you.

And you were really happy with this arrangement. You had actually befriended a few of his workers, enjoying the random conversations you would have with them. Plus, they made you feel safe to be around. They may have been pretty faces, but they were incredibly skilled and powerful as well. They felt secure.

But unfortunately, they weren't ready for 15 armed men to burst into the place on such a gentle evening. Even Victor couldn't predict just how far his enemies would go, ganging up to increase their numbers and their chances that they could catch you.

The Zsaszettes did the best they could to hide you before the men got to you. They managed to hold them off for a bit, but sadly, it only ended in bloodshed.

A few of the men were killed upon entry, a few others were injured. But the girls were out numbered, and they ended dying to protect you. They cared about following Victor's orders of course, but they also cared about you. Your safety was their priority as much as Victor's, and they sadly gave up their lives for you.

You were choking on your sobs as you tried to hold them back, watching the scene unfold in the hidden away room near the back of the apartment.

But with one wrong movement, you had bumped the wall with your elbow, and the remaining men froze.

Your eyes widened as you watched a couple of them walk towards your hiding area, ripping open the door.

They each took an arm and dragged you out of the room, a quick hit to the head forcing darkness upon you.

***

Victor rushed home just 30 minutes later when both Zsaszettes didn't pick up his calls. He even reached out to you, only to be met with your voicemail.

When he stormed into the apartment, he lost his breath. Two of his most loyal workers laid dead on the ground. The whole area was trashed and bloodied, and Victor could only hope that none of the red liquid was yours.

He searched around for you frantically, but all he managed to find was your phone, all of his attempts at calling and messaging you still listed on your lock screen.

But the latest message on your phone was one he didn't send.

You know where to find us. You have 1 hour.

He had a hunch that someone was after him these past few weeks, but he didn't know that they would drag you into this. But this would prove to be their biggest mistake.

He knew where you were. And although he didn't care to know who these men were, they would all end up dead just the same.

***

Victor smirked when he saw the building in view. He had to give them some props to be honest. They did pretty well staking out their own assassins in the area. But he couldn't expect anything less.

He was Gotham's best, so they knew that they had to prepare for him to arrive. They were wanting his head, after all.

But they clearly weren't as smart as they thought.

He had a few of his Zsaszettes set up on the opposite side of the building, their guns already beginning to fire blindly at the men.

This caused all of them to turn towards the shots, the rest of the men beginning to rush to the area.

With their backs turned, Victor began to take down each assassin, his own gun completely muffled from the chaos.

Each shot was like a silent blast of air, and men's bodies were hitting the ground without anyone noticing.

But by the time they did catch on to what was happening, it was too late. There were only a couple men left, and they were met with a bullet to the head before they could even spot where he was.

But Victor knew his battle wasn't over. You were still inside, and he was certain the "boss" and the rest of his men would be there too.

The Zsaszettes were ready for his call, but Victor wanted to finish the battle alone.

It was almost humorous for him in a way. They would have been stupid to mess with Victor in general, but to put your life in danger too? That only made his next plan even more enjoyable.

Victor walked into the building innocently, knowing they weren't going to kill him immediately. These men were too prideful for that. They wanted to toy with him, torture him, maybe even hurt you to make his own suffering worse.

The thought made him sick, but he kept his cool.

"Gentleman," Victor greeted, his eyes not leaving yours.

It pained him to see you strapped to that chair, your eyes full of fear. What made it worse though was the fact that he knew you weren't scared for yourself- you were scared for him. He never wanted to worry you like this ever again.

And thankfully, you looked unscathed. Your shirt was a little wrinkled, and your mascara had smudged, but there were no cuts or bruises anywhere Victor could see. He felt relieved.

"Victor!"

His eyes finally left yours to look at the brute man before him.

"You're gonna pay for what you did to my brother!"

Victor sighed. "Brother? I kill dozens of people a week. You think I care about what I did to your brother?"

The man was seething and ready to burst.

"But, if I do recall," Victor rolled up his sleeve. "I think he was probably... this one, right here." He pointed to a scar near his elbow.

Suddenly, the man let out a loud scream, beginning to charge at Victor.

His two men continued to stand next to you, their hands already beginning to reach for their guns.

You watched as Victor dodged away from the man, managing to slip in a swift punch to the gut.

The man spun back around and landed a sharp kick to Victor's shin, causing him to collapse.

You let out a muffled scream at this, worried that would be the end of the battle for your partner.

However, Victor took advantage of this new viewpoint, quickly grabbing the small gun from the man's belt.

With two loud bangs, both men beside you collapsed to the floor, not even able to fire off their own weapons in time.

Another two loud shots resounded as you watched the boss fall beside his fellow partners in crime, yelling and screaming at Victor.

You could see a bloody wound in each of his knees as a pool began to form around him.

Victor jumped to his feet and made his way towards you, helping you our of your binds. All the while, he continued to apologize and tell you just how worried he was.

"This will never happen again. I'm sorry I-"

"Victor," you softly smiled. "I'm okay. We're going to be alright, yeah?"

He quietly sighed and brought his lips to your forehead, silently agreeing. Even in the most chaotic moments, you were able to bring him a sense of peace that he never knew existed before.

Once he knew you were okay, he dragged his attention back to your kidnapper.

"As much as I'd love to see your entrails splayed across the floor, I have some other matters to attend to."

And with that, a single shot was made in the center of the man's head. You watched as his head lulled to the side and his eyes went blank.

You squirmed away a bit, but you felt Victor wrap his arm around your waist.

"What were these other matters you have to do?" you asked, looking up at him.

He smiled back down at you. "Our date night, of course."

[doppy-enjo]

I still giggle like a schoolkid at the part when Odysseus shouts "SIX-HUNDRED STRIKE!!!" /pos this must be how it felt like to watch Power Rangers as a kid

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine Being Freed From False Gabriel

You find a way to banish Gabriel from your body.

Requested by @weird-addiction

I am back 😀 sry for bothering you

You said a continuation is okay, um remember that Mandela Catalogue fic you did like a year ago or smth (I don’t remember lol) can you do a continuation of that or nah?

🫥🗿

(Author note: I did have this on my mind for sometime. Good to finally get it out)

Continuation of this: Imagine getting possessed...

Warnings: a mental battle with Gabriel, violence, a bit angst, mentions of being at the edge of insanity and finally banishing Gabriel.

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- The journey had taken a toll on you. Resisting Gabriel’s tormenting presence while shielding the hobbits from Sauron’s ever-looming shadow felt like an impossible task. Yet, against all odds, you held on, even if you were on the brink of insanity. 

- There was much an elf could handle, but carrying a curse like this was too much even for you. 

- Frodo and Sam had been good companions to you. Despite the immense weight of their own burdens, they had an uncanny ability to lift your spirits and keep your resolve from faltering. Thanks to them, you had not fallen under Gabriel’s control. 

- You endured many trials during your journey and witnessed many things. You had the unpleasantry of meeting Collum. His appearance was as twisted as his soul, a living reminder of the Ring’s corrupting power. You had heard whispers of him in stories, a being consumed by obsession, and it was clear from the moment he slithered into your path that he coveted the Ring.

- However, despite your mistrust and Sam's outright disdain for him, Frodo chose to show compassion, allowing Gollum to join your group and guide you through the perilous lands corrupted by Sauron’s shadow.

- Collum was an unpleasant company, but you admit he was useful. 

-He seemed afraid of you. You already knew that he despised elves, but it seemed even he was able to sense Gabriel’s malice within you, claiming it was something dark and worse than the dark lord. It was one thing you agreed with him. The malevolent entity within you was a sinister and unrelenting force to be reckoned with, a power that felt potent enough to challenge Sauron himself and take the Ring if given a chance. 

- Gabriel's desire for dominance, for destruction, was palpable, and it mirrored the Dark Lord’s ambitions in a way that made your skin crawl.

- You had managed to keep Gabriel’s foul words out of your ears. However, his presence had made you more prone to anger and violence. This became evident when you and your small group were captured by the rangers of Ithilien and in a heated moment, you threatened and nearly attacked them out of rage. It took all of Frodo’s and Sam’s efforts to calm you down, their soothing words cutting through the fog of fury that clouded your mind.

- The men of Gondor warily watched you afterward as elves were not known to lose their temper like that. It made you feel a pang of guilt. 

- These bursts of anger frightened you and it took some time before you apologized to them and Faramir, their chief. 

- He was understanding enough to grant forgiveness, especially when you told him about your possession problem. 

- When you learned there was going to be an attack on one of their cities, you wanted to lend your aid. It was a high risk as you could lose control in the heat of the battle, but at least you could focus Gabriel’s lust for death upon the orcs. If it helped the men of Gondor in their battle against the orcs, then it was a risk you were willing to take. 

- However, the night of the attack was much more violent than you thought. 

- Orcs were everywhere. You fought alongside the men of Gondor as best as you could. However, there were too many of them. You tried to keep yourself in control, but the anger and despair filled you with an insatiable hunger for violence.

- You were at your breaking point, teetering on the edge as Gabriel’s dark influence reached out to seize control. Just as the malevolent force began to creep over your mind, a brilliant light erupted around you, cutting through the chaos. You felt a warm hand gently cover your eyes, shielding you from the blinding radiance, and a calming presence materialized behind you. The oppressive weight of despair and rage momentarily lifted, leaving you breathless and bewildered.

- “You do not need to fear me,” a voice resonated with calm authority, like the toll of a celestial bell. “I am Archangel Michael. I am here to help you.”

- You felt less fearful of the new creature as you knew what an archangel was, and who Michael was. 

- Michael’s voice was calm yet resolute as he spoke. He explained how he had sensed his brother’s escape into your world and how Gabriel had been tormenting and corrupting you. His words carried no judgment, only understanding. Then, he revealed something that ignited a spark of hope in your heart—there was a way to banish Gabriel back to his realm, to the abyss of darkness where he had originally been confined.

- Skeptical but willing to trust Michael, you asked what you needed to do. Michael then explained that you needed to stand on pure land, utter a prayer, and speak Gabriel’s true name, as it would give you power over him.

- You were then returned to the battlefield. At first, you were confused, but when you heard Michael’s voice urging you to hurry, you asked Faramir where you could find pure land. He promptly instructed you on where to go.

- You quickly made your way there, sensing Gabriel's fury as he realized what was happening. He forcefully tried to take control, but with Michael’s words, your will was strong enough to resist him. In a fit of rage, Gabriel’s presence manifested and killed all the orcs in your vicinity.

- Finally, you found the place. As you stepped onto the pure land, you felt Gabriel separate from you. For the first time, you saw him outside your body, and he was even more terrifying than you could have imagined. His form radiated dark power, and the air seemed to grow heavier around him.

- He preyed on the hobbits and the One Ring. You tried to intervene but with a sudden surge of invisible force, he slammed you against the wall, pinning you there with a crushing weight. As you struggled, his attention shifted back to the hobbits, the gleam in his eyes filled with malice and hunger.

- You met his gaze with newfound determination. You knew exactly what needed to be done to banish him once and for all.

"Your name gives me dominion over you, false angel. And I do know your name," you declared, your voice steady. Gabriel's eyes met yours with anger and arrogance. 

"You are Lucifer!" you shouted, your voice filled with conviction. His eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing his features for the first time.

"The devil, the serpent, the king of hell!" you continued, your words dripping with disdain. 

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I condemn you back to the darkness from which you came!" you screamed. 

- As the last syllables left your mouth, Gabriel screamed in agony, his body beginning to crumble and disintegrate into nothingness. His furious cries echoed in the air, but it was too late—his power had shattered, and he was gone.

- You dropped down from the wall and felt something like a heavy bag of rock being lifted from your shoulders.

- As you sat there, breathless from the confrontation, you saw a single white feather drift down, landing softly at your feet.

- "Well done," Michael’s voice echoed in your mind, the warmth of his words washing over you. "Gabriel will never torment you again." His voice faded into silence, leaving behind a sense of calm and security.

- You rejoiced with Frodo and Sam when you told them what had happened, and then wept in relief as you were finally free from the darkness that had tormented you.