#he's was just feeling a little silly and did a bit of mind alteration

[veryintricaterituals]

but babe, you ASKED me to gaslight you, don't you see? I'm honestly so hurt that you dare to insinuate that i would erase my horrible behavior and your attempted suicide all on my own! And to think that I have to put up with this AFTER all the effort i went through to murder your daughter and your only fledgling! I sometimes feel so underappreciated in this relationship 🥺

[anantaru]

hear me out.. this is fluffy 🥹

imagine wriothesley as a dad, especially a girl dad! (thanks to his teaser for this idea!!!)

cw. ・✶ ｡ none, fluff, established relationship (he's your husband), girl dad wriothesley <3 (she's around 6), fem! reader

the love wriothesley has for his daughter is the purest form of love.

it's new— and he has never felt it before, in fact, it cannot be compared with anything else in this universe.

as it was in his life, wriothesley was severely occupied as the duke of the fortress and such was the wonderful reason as to why he likes to appreciate the little moments that happen in your day to day life with your daughter— the feeling of protecting his child was inexpressible, and in order for him to at least miss you both a little bit less or make it become somewhat bearable, wriothesley finds himself romanticizing the morning hours of the day.

the duke starts his day with greeting you, his wife, and his cute daughter before he helps you to get her ready as much as he can— side note your daughter has his eyes, and if words could describe it only a little bit, she looks just like an angel.

also— it might be silly, or maybe it just looks silly seeing your husband struggle like that, but something about him doing your daughters hair was— by the same token, very cute and quite hilarious.

that's when his alter ego, the quote on quote, “hair stylist wriothesley”, comes into place.

not beating around the bush, but your husband was surprisingly very good at doing her hair. obviously, he does it the same way you showed him, yet he will always add a ridiculous amount of bedazzled hair accessories to her head.

to say that wriothesley was a big fan of glittery, sparkly head pieces would be a clear understatement— but do not try to put them on his hair, this dangerous route will take you to a tickle competition you simply cannot win, not even if you tried your hardest.

the duke didn't see anything wrong with clipping a bunch of radiant hair accessories on her head, even though she might end up looking like a disco ball— not that your daughter minds it, archons, she utterly adored it whenever her dad did her hair!

she was, in fact, the biggest fan of her dad doing it, because they got to spend some quality time together before he would be gone for the majority of her day. how he kneels down behind her while she sits on the little seat in front of her child-sized vanity, looking at her dad through glowy, admiring eyes while he does her hair for the day.

sadly, wriothesley knows that after that he has to work, he must and it will always take him all his power to get going— before that though, he will tell you both goodbye, add a small kiss on his daughters forehead before giving you a small peck on the lips.

how deeply he wanted to spend the day with you two, maybe walk around fontaine so you could shop around— because last time you did that, you actually found a matching outfit for you and your daughter and wriothesley found it to be one of the cutest, little memories in his mind.

he even took a picture of the two of you and keeps it in his wallet at all times now. who knows but when he feels like it becomes unbearable while being apart from his family, he tends to just look at it and smile.

when wriothesley met you, his live truly has changed forever.

you gave him pure, unfaltering love, deep compassion and of course— a family, something he thought he'd never be able to have.

being a parent certainly wasn't an easy task, and it was important to navigate through future differences that might occur one way or the other, more so seek out a good way to find the best possible solution for everybody involved.

not only for your marriage sake, but for your own childs sake— and wriothesley cannot wait to teach her valuable life lessons, about giving love to the world and the importance of following your dreams, opening his arms for his child with kindness, provide his cute daughter with hope, real hope.

while lastly, make his child excited to see this world and grow up with two wonderful parents that love her so very much.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[mercwiththem0uth]

another drabble because i have soft!wade literally living on my mind 24/7. not proof read!

x gn!reader showering with deadpool and caring for him when his skin has a bad flare-up.

you had been in a relationship with wade for a couple of years now. you knew him inside-out. you loved him so deeply and would do absolutely anything for him, and he was totally head-over-heels for you because of it.

unfortunately, sometimes his mutation causes the scars on his skin to flare up, becoming irritable and painful. he would say that his skin essentially hurt him all the time, and he was just very used to the pain. however when these rare moments happened where it hurt more than usual, you tried to do everything you could to make things more comfortable for him.

in the earlier stage of your relationship, when the first flare-up happened, you spent a long time stood in the kitchen surrounded by a huge amount jars, test tubes, liquids, essential oils, and syringes, trying to find the best combination for a special lotion that wade could use to moisturise his unique skin.

wade stood in the doorway, a small smile on his face as he watched your eyes narrow, tongue poking out of your mouth slightly, concentrating so hard on the task in front of you.

you were so engrossed in measuring out the ingredients and stirring your lotions into different labelled pots, that you hadn't noticed him observing you.

"what are you doing, doll?" wade's voice spoke gently as he stepped towards you in the kitchen. you jumped, heart almost skipping a beat as you hadn't suspected anyone to be home with you.

realising it was him, you relaxed. "you're back early" you smiled at him, tilting your head.

"no I'm not" he smiled widely, motioning his head towards the clock, which read 7:36pm.

oh...

you had been stood in the kitchen doing your little experiments for much longer than you had realised.

wade came behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, dropping a kiss to your exposed shoulder, before whispering in your ear. "so... you never told me what you are doing." he stood back and leaned against the counter, inhaling a deep breath of the different smells that you had created. he was getting senses of ginger and honey... coconut and oatmeal.

"if i was to guess, you're starting up some sort of etsy home-business?"

you giggled at his silliness.

"i'm trying to create a lotion for you. to help... you know... your skin. i know it's been hurting recently." you blushed slightly, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed.

wade felt his heart swell at your words. he almost melted right there on the floor. you had only been together a couple of months, and wade was still very insecure about his appearance around you. but the fact that you were going out of your way to make something to help him, almost made him want to cry.

he knew in that moment that you were something extremely special. you were still in the early stage of your relationship, yet you were being so selfless and kind towards him.

"oh, baby" he whispered, a small smile on his face. "that is so kind. thank you."

the sincerity in his voice made your stomach flutter. you hadn't seen a very affectionate/grateful side of wade yet, but little did you know that this was only the beginning, and you are yet to meet the very clingy, loveable deadpool.

he came and wrapped you in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you spent the rest of that evening sat together round the kitchen table, testing the lotions and altering some of the recipes, before he settled on one that he really liked. he still uses it to this day, and you happily make him a new batch every month.

wade sat in the passenger seat of dopinder's taxi, staring out the window. his lips were curled until a soft smile as he thought about that memory. you had been his biggest supporter since day one.

he climbed out of the taxi and gave dopinder a high five, before slowly making his way up to your shared apartment. his footsteps were slow and heavy as his muscles ached and his skin screamed against his suit with every step that he took. he finally crashed through the door, immediately relaxing slightly as the familiar scent and warmth of home surrounded him.

"hey baby!" he heard you call from the bedroom, as he kicked his shoes off and made his way to find you. you were folding laundry as you looked up at him and smiled, having missed him all day. he managed to smile back, never once breaking eye contact as you approached him for a kiss. resting your hands on his shoulders you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, a toothy grin on your face as you pulled away.

"are you okay?" you said gently, watching as your boyfriend began to take his suit off, his face screwing up and flinching in agony every once in a while. "does it hurt?" you whispered.

he just nodded his head, a small sigh and grunt escaping his mouth. you frowned, wishing you could take away his pain. "i'm sorry baby, anything i can do to help?"

"i'm gonna take a shower" he said, voice barely above a whisper, as he peeled the last piece of his suit from his body. you followed him into the bathroom, watching as he leaned to turn the shower on to a lukewarm/cool temperature, making you frown again. he couldn't even enjoy the feeling of hot water. "what's the frown for, kitten?" he said, pulling his underwear down and kicking them off his feet.

"i just feel bad for you", you sighed, hating to see the love of your life feel this way.

"don't be silly" he pulled you against him, holding you in a small hug, "i'm used to it."

"but still, you don't deserve it."

"hey now, if i wasn't a mutant, cancer would've got me a long time ago and I never would've met you." he squeezed your shoulders before pulling away, watching your face waiting to see you smile.

he climbed into the shower, before turning back to you. "you can join me if you like," wriggling his eyebrows, "i wouldn't recommend it though, your sweet cheeks will get cold."

you smiled and rolled your eyes. eventhough he was in pain, he was trying to be his usual-self that always cheers you up. you pulled off your clothes and joined him in the shower, letting him stand at the water end. his big eyes looked down at you, filled with love and adoration, but underlying sadness. he was just in pain, and needed some comfort. you noticed immediately, reaching round to grab his soap. it was an expensive one, formulated to be kind and gentle to his skin.

you poured some onto a soft sponge and used your hands to lather it up with some water, directing him to turn around. you placed the sponge ever so gently at the top of his shoulder blades, before slowly moving it down across his back. he tensed up, liking the feeling but hating it at the same time. his hand reached backwards and he used his fingers to brush against your thigh, indicating to you that he wanted to hold your hand. you reached down and locked fingers with him, giving it a small squeeze, whilst still using the other hand to slowly sweep the sponge across his backside. you squeezed the sponge in your hand, letting the soapy water trickle down his body, so you weren't putting any friction on his most sensitive and inflamed areas.

you brought his hand up to your mouth to kiss it, before tightly tugging him to face you again. he turned around to let you wash his chest and stomach.

you peeked up at wade, his head was dropped down to his chest with his eyes screwed shut. you put an arm around his waist, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. he leaned into your touch, wanting more. you breathed a laugh against his skin, giving one more kiss, before passing him the sponge and letting him finish washing his more intimate areas. (although he definitely would not have minded if you'd done that for him)

once he was rinsed off, you helped him out of the shower and passed him the fluffiest towel you could find. you left him alone and ventured back into the bedroom, pulling out some clean pyjamas for the both of you, before going to the kitchen to order his favourite chimichangas.

wade eventually appeared, wearing nothing but some cotton underwear. you looked at him confused, "i got some clothes out for you, bub."

his eyes darted down to his hand, where he was holding a bottle of your home-made lotion. your eyes softened as you whispered an "okay", before quickly washing your hands.

you joined wade on the couch where he was turning on a movie, sitting next to him and rubbing some lotion between your hands. he leaned into your touch and began to finally relax against you, as you gave him the gentlest massage you possibly could.

you spent the rest of the evening cuddling your big baby of a boyfriend, using your fingers to moisturise every nook and cranny of his back, arms, chest, legs, hands and feet. your heart melted every time you heard him let out a sigh or a grunt of pleasure, knowing his pain was finally easing. even if it was only slightly.

after you'd eaten, wade laid across the couch with his head in your lap, your hand resting lightly on his head. you were both fighting sleep as you tried to make it to the end of the movie.

before drifting away, you felt wade tilt his head up to look at you. you met his eyes, softly blinking at him, trying to read his thoughts.

"i don't deserve you," he mumbled, reaching his fingertips up to caress your cheek. "thank you for everything"

you stared lovingly at him for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a long kiss to his lips. he meant every word. what did he do to deserve someone who loved and cared for him so deeply?

guys I'm so in love with this fictional man it's not even funny i just wanna kiss his face and give him the love he deserves :'(

[wriothesleybear]

Nsfw alphabet for our bby Wriothesley

~a/n: Been holding off on doing this one for a while now but finally finished. I had a bad week so enjoy some smut. I think I plan to make another separate post explaining further about his kinks like I did with his favorite sex positions. Credit to @/multi-fandom-imagine for nsfw alphabet template. I did alter it a bit for my post though.

~warnings: mentions of sex, kinks, aftercare, fem!reader, MDNI!

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): ofc the king of aftercare! This man will bring you tea, massage your muscles, pamper your body with kisses (especially the bite marks, hickeys, etc.), give you a nice warm bath, and praise you with sweet words. Literally will do anything you request of him. He is a giving lover and he wants to make sure you feel loved and are taken care of (especially if it was a long love making session or a little rough).

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's): Everything (cheesy, I know). Nah, but if he had to pick one, your hands. He loves the way they feel on his skin. The way they gently trace his scars (also your lips). How they cup his face when you pull him into a kiss. How they comb through his hair strands. How they rub his back when he needs the comfort after a nightmare or bad day. His favorite body part on himself is either his arms or mouth. Arms due to his strength. Mouth due to him being good with it and making you feel intense pleasure by it.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum basically): Cums lots when he does. Warm, sticky, and a bit bitter and salty. Will kiss you even with his cum in your mouth (snowballing). He thinks its hot. Will also eat you out after cumming inside you.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): Even though his favorite body part of yours is your hands, his second favorite is your tits. Loves to grope them, suck on them (a lot), rest his head on them when relaxing, and even cumming on them. Although he usually cums inside you or on your stomach, when he came on your tits for the first time, the view of your fucked out expression, chest heaving while trying to catch your breath as his cum decorates your tits..fuck.. immediately made him hard again. If you asked him if you could give him a tit job, he'd just cum right on the spot. He secretly wishes you would ask him..

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing): Im gonna go with the headcanon that he doesn't have much given he's been in prison most of his life and I feel like he is careful with who he gives himself to/who he trusts so it wouldn't be a surprise that he is careful with who he sleeps with. He takes that seriously and has to have a deep connection with someone before doing anything with them. So I could see him as not really experienced. He is a quick learner tho ;)

F= Favorite position: Made a whole post about it right here.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.): He's chill so a little bit of both. He wouldn't mind if you were silly in bed but usually takes it somewhat seriously because it's special when you two have sex. He is likely to tease you as well and enjoys making you smile and laugh so he's okay with it.

H= Hair (grooming habits): Average. Has a bush but keeps it trimmed for you. Matches his hair color and highlights.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect, etc.): Mostly romantic but can get a bit rough/dirty if you want him to. It can be a combination of both.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often): He doesn't need to since he has you but of course when either you or him are busy and can't see one another for a while, he would jack off if he really needed to. Always jacks off while imagining you touching him, using memories from previous sessions, or imagining what he wants to do with you once you see each other again. He can't help getting turned on when he thinks about you and misses you.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks): Breeding, praising, squirting, pussyeating, some degradation, dirty talk, bondage, bdsm, blindfolding, edging, overstimulation, orgasm control, mutual masturbation, roleplay, cockwarming, doming and subbing, spanking, biting, snowballing.

L= Location (favorite place to do the deed): Usually in the privacy of his office or the safety of your home. Ngl, you both have done quickies in the dark corners of the fortress because you guys just couldn't wait. But he prefers his office or in your guys' home the most.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): You don't have to do much. That's how much he loves you. Especially if it's been a while since you've seen each other. Just seeing you makes him want to kiss you. When you give him that soft look with that kind, gentle smile of yours. And when you do things for him, even small things that mean a lot to him, man, he just wants to pounce on you and show you how much you mean to him.

N= No (something they wouldn't do, turnoffs): Hurting you. Yes, he'll do consensual bites, the gentle hand around the neck with light squeezing (not exactly choking per say), pounding, slight degradation, etc. but if it really hurts you, he refuses to, even if you ask him. He saves the hurting for the ring or unruly prisoners who get out of line.

O= Oral (preference in receiving or giving, skill, etc.): He likes both but really likes giving. If we're talking about my Pussydrunk!Wrio, he can cum just from eating you out and can go down on you for hours. Wouldn't mind you sucking his cock but, god, just sit on his face please. Even though he may lack in experience, man is blessed and knows how to eat pussy with little practice.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): He loves taking his time (even though it can be hard sometimes), but he has good self-control and wants to pamper you and enjoy all of you as long as he can. He will do quickies sometimes though. He can last a long time. He's got that stamina..

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): Usually likes taking his time, but will do quickies if you two don't have much time and he just really needs you. So quickies are okay with him, given the circumstances.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): He's chill so he'd usually be open if you want to try something new. Unless it goes against his turnoffs.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go, how long do they last): Damn, strap in for a long ride. He's a boxer. Of course he's got a lot of stamina. He can't stop with just one round. At least 3 or 4, but can do more. Rounds are mostly long since he likes to take his time.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves): Wouldn't be closed to the idea of using sex toys, either for you or him. Would probably prefer on you. Just the thought of watching you come undone and lose yourself in pleasure while he holds a vibrator to your clit, making you overstimulated and squirt even (he loves making you do that).

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease): Enjoys teasing you sometimes, especially if you're busy doing something. Same goes for him. If you tease him while he's busy with paperwork, the wait will be worth it. But it does get on his nerves when you're teasing him and he's about ready to just take you, but then something comes up like a subordinate interrupts because they need his attention for something or a prisoner is acting up. He always waits for the subordinate to go on ahead and tells them that he will join them in a few, just so he can hang back and give you a few long, deep, passionate kisses while holding you close. Just a little something to keep you both satisfied in the meantime and something to look forward to later.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make): He's mostly normal volume but can be slightly loud if it feels too good and it's been a while. Especially if you like him to be more vocal, he will for you. Mostly grunts and moans. Sometimes curses, usually teases you or encourages/praises/guides you with sweet words. He just likes to hear your beautiful moans and cries so he knows how good he's making you feel. Plus it turns him on more hearing you cry in pleasure from his cock or mouth.

W= Wild card (random headcanon): Although he's usually the dominate one in bed and the one who is in control, he loves when you take the reins every once in a while. Tie him up, use his handcuffs on him, blindfold him, ride him, edge him, overstimulate him. Just take control of him and dominate him. He loves a woman in charge and a confident woman who knows what she wants.

X= X-ray (let's see what's going on in those pants): Mmm. Thick, uncut, 9' cock. A few veins covering his cock with a large one on the underside. Sensitive there and the head of his cock the most.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive): Normal to low high. Has good self-control and is busy with work sometimes. But if it's been a while, it might be a little bit harder for him to hold back.

Z= Zzzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): He doesn't go to sleep until he makes sure you're taken care of. He also stays up a bit after you've fallen asleep, just admiring you and your beautiful features. He pats your hair or rubs your back as he smiles and holds you close. Sometimes peppers you with kisses or whispering sweet words to you even though you're probably asleep.

[nvoirs]

Omg i saw that ur requests are open 🥹😭 Is it okay if I can request a plaga re4leon smut? 😭 it’s okay if u dont want to 😇 have a great day 🫶🏼

Part 2 is here Because of all the support on this piece of writing I did I was able to create a part 2 and I'm thankful for those who wanted it!

When you had found out that Leon was infected by the Plagas your heart dropped into your stomach. You wouldn't know what to do, trembling as he got worse. Becoming more feral and looking like he wanted to rip your cute little heart straight out of your chest and brandish the still warm organ like a trophy. It got to a point where you had to restrain him, all you could find was a frail piece of rope left behind by one of the now dead ganandos.

Ashley was still with Luis, hopefully so close to finding the vaccine. So close to bringing Leon back to you.

His panting would worsen, as he struggled against your restraints, lashing out telling you to release him and that he was fine, he was okay and you didn't have to worry.

He'd put you in so much sorrow and guilt that you wouldn't even realise he'd managed to cut through the tied rope around his wrists with the small dagger you forgot to confiscate.

Silly old you. Always so naïve and trusting when it came to Leon. He was your weakness, and he now knew that and had used it to his advantage lunging for your still vulnerable, hunched over body.

He'd have you pressed to the dirty ground, the air smelling of gunpowder as he inhaled deeply. You're terrified he can see it, those widened eyes threatening to fill with tears once again.Trembling beneath him his weight sandwiching your body between the ground and his broad-ranging chest. His eyes were no longer that sky blue that you once loved, now becoming something far sinister, a raging crimson colour replacing them.

But he isn't fully gone, he's still Leon so you were confused when you felt something hard pressed against your thigh. He rutted his hardened cock against your tactical pants releasing a forced squeak from deep within your throat.

“Don't think I can hold back anymore.. fuck. Wanna fuck you into the ground please.” 

He continued to rut against you like a cat in heat, squeezing your legs together as you could feel the certain wetness collecting itself inside of your underwear.

“Leon what’re you- shit is this the plagas controlling you?”

“No goddamnit it's me- the plagas is just outing me.” He purred.

Chuckling he came closer to your pursed lips, wanting to feel the softness of them, his dark blonde hair brushing across your reddened face.

And you let him. You let him swallow you whole, devouring your mouth till your lips were a ruby colour, a string of his saliva evident upon them once he pulled away. Your lips still puckered, you wanted more, no you craved more of this side of Leon. You knew it was wrong, he was infected with stage four of the parasite but you just couldn’t help it.

The effects of the plagas were becoming more visible. The prominent darkened veins stood out creating a sort of jumbled up criss-crossed pattern on his pale skin.

“Shit this is your fault, I've wanted to fuck you since I met you six years ago back when we were both rookies in training” His extensive grin agitated you as he dived down for your exposed neck.

Placing a pointer finger on the pulse, dragging it down behind your appealing small ear. He licked a searing wet stripe up the shell of your ear, as he began to leave mauve coloured love bites across your supple flesh.

Dessert before the main course sounded real good to Leon right now, and you happened to be his dessert.

The plagas was altering his mind, and Leon was looking at you like you were a piece of vanilla cake. Squirming underneath his tight hold, releasing effortlessly, melodic sounds as he nipped and bit at your bare neck.

“Fuck Leon!”

 You grabbed the material of his tight black shirt, digging your hands in and pulling him ever so closer. In return Leon hummed in approval before breaking his lips away from your decorated skin.

“Now the real fun begins.”

Dragging your tactical pants down your thighs, swiftly pulling them off and chucking them to the side. His glowing eyes stared down at where you needed him most, he could see the wet patch you’d made from your endearing arousal.

“Well what do we have here?” 

Fingering the material of your thin panties, Leon advanced to the very centre. His hand hovered before ripping your panties clean off. Gasping as he also threw your now shredded panties on top of your discarded pants.

“Leon why’d you do that I need those- fuck!”

While you were busy being a blabber mouth not knowing when to shut up, he’d lifted your calves before shoving his tongue deep inside of you. Writhing and twisting at his straight up tongue fucking, you cried out when he began to abuse your clit circling it relentlessly.

Licking lengthy stripes up and down your sweet folds, he pulled back moaning from your taste.

“You taste so sweet, I knew you would, I always knew.”

Going back down on you, you felt a cramping sensation building up in your lower abdomen and before you knew it you were releasing all over Leon’s face. He carried on lapping you up eagerly, tasting your sugar coated juices on his lips and tongue.

Dropping your legs roughly, you both panting your vision seizing and taking sight of Leon unbuckling his pants. His cockhead strained against the material of his briefs, his precum staining the front.

“Want you on your knees, sluts like you have to worship someone isn’t that so?” Grabbing you by your neck, you yelped as he nudged your nose against his clothed dick.

Obeying his demand you felt yourself blush, now this is wrong, it’s wrong, wrong, wrong! Ignoring your intrusive thoughts, you began to pull his briefs down his meaty thighs. You’ve always wanted to be with Leon like this, and now you can. You just couldn’t hold back.

Taking him in the palm of your hand, trembling hoping you didn’t do something wrong. Leon was a lot stronger as of now, he could easily overpower you. His tip was a mouthwatering sight, you never knew it could look this pretty? Taking him into your warm mouth, tasting the salty precum and hollowing your cheeks as you began to bob your head. Leon released a guttural groan, grabbing you by the ponytail you had up.

“This is all I could think about ha- when your hair was like this.”

Dragging his cock inside your mouth faster, before shooting his cumload straight down your throat making you gag.

“Swallow it, you whore, or I’ll make you regret it.” His threats should scare you, but It just turned you on even more.

“Need you inside me.” You whined, humping nothing as you bounced on yourself.

“Christ, don’t do that or I’ll seriously make you pass out. Take off your shirt then.”

Enthusiastically you did just that. Flinging your top leaving you in nothing but your bra. Leon licked his lips delightfully, before unclipping your bra allowing your tits to spill out. You looked like a goddess in his eyes, as he palmed your squishy flesh between his skilled fingers.

“Mmhph Leon! Feels good.” Sweat was forming on your chest like you’d been dusted with golden powder. Smirking Leon continued his assault on your breasts, switching to your firm nipples. Taking one and pinching it before rolling his tongue over it and taking it into his mouth. His eyes met yours as he suckled at your nipple, still giving the other attention by squeezing it between his index finger and thumb.

“Jump up onto me.” His command rang through your ears, as you jumped wrapping your legs around his waist. Leaning against the cobblestone wall Leon’s cock rubbed against your cunt teasingly before shoving himself inside of you.

You nuzzled into his neck smelling the sweat and dirt of him, but he still smelt so good a hint of citrus filling your nostrils as your face carried on colliding with his neck as he bounced you on his cock. Your moans rang out into the empty room, muffled slightly because of your loving assault on Leon’s neck.

“Your so- tight didn’t expect that from a slut.”

His grip grew tighter on your ass, bruising beginning to form under the tips of his fingers because of how tight he was holding onto you.

“I’m not a ha- slut!” You wailed, the pressure in your stomach coiling up.

“Oh yeah? Then who was that guy you were flirting with back at HQ?”

No way was he talking about that one guy. The one guy that actually showed any romantic interest in you, he’d asked you out to dinner when Leon was in the room and you had refused. That was because you liked Leon, but you had no idea he liked you back.

“I said no- fuck because I like you!”

Leon cocked his head to the side, watching your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Is that so?”

His pace got faster, ploughing into your guts like it was nothing until the tightly fit coil snapped in two. You whined as you came around him gushing and milking his cock. He carried on fucking you through your high, trying to chase after his own release.

“Ah- too much Leon too much!” almost strangling him but withstanding when he came deep inside your cunt, the contents dripping down your legs.Your hands still curled in his locks, fingers glued to his scalp as he hissed from the pain of your fingernails.

“Sorry.” Mumbling, you expected Leon to send you one of those signature smirks but instead felt a prick in the side of your neck.

What? Everything began to get fuzzy, and you felt Leon placing you on the cold floor.

“Shush It’s okay now, Lord Saddler could use another follower. And maybe just maybe he’ll let me keep you and we can be together forever my darling.”

The last thing you saw before you became unconscious was Leon’s ugly grin smeared across his once angelic features. You’d been caught in his spider's web once again.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 23 thoughts

the previous episode was SO good. but, it is true, i was distracted by the dog. it was SUCH!! a perfect episode. EXCEPT for that one thing. so i hope that today, i can face this episode with a clear head, free of judgement based on the fate of little dogs.

well, boy, i did face this episode with a clear mind, and wow. wowza. another AMAZING ep... and i will keep the angst from this episode in my heart forever and bottle it and take a nice long swig when i need my msr feels, which is basically always. wow. an exclamation point doesn't even feel APPROPRIATE, it just needs to hang in the air for a bit. (wiping tears away) wow....

let us go back to yesterday's notes, which shall commence below:

reading the episode description... so this one features murders linked to a device that alters television signals… huh. man, too many people i know don’t even have cable anymore. this simply would not work in the modern era. imagine if hulu or tubi or something made you kill people though lmao that would be silly to imagine.

we open with a guy digging a hole in the woods. always a promising start. seems he’s in an orchard of some sort? and the music is very very creepy. 

okay, so just as you suspect, this dude is burying a dead guy. sometimes your gut instinct is correct and tropes are not meant to be subverted. but the dude who is burying him says “your killing days are OVER” so is this actually a justice arc??? hmm. it is not clear. man, it would be hard to dig a hole like that.

shovel murder man is at home washing the blood off. but then someone else approaches him and he kills THAT GUY TOO WITH THE SHOVEL?? huh? what is going on. 

police at da guy’s house. everyone has the same face as the dude he just killed??? so they tase him. and then the faces go back to their REAL faces. now what is going on here!!!!!!!!!!

as the real faces return, the man realizes he killed someone named sarah!!! and he seems sooo upset by the fact that he killed sarah!!!! poor sarah :(

so does the tv make you see other people’s faces on the bodies of random people….? omg that’s insidious...

we now shift to a different scene, one where mulder is sitting in his car at 2 am. doing what???? waiting for some guy!!! he was waiting TWO HOURS for this guy!!! who is this guy...? it's giving blind date/drug deal.

the man who enters his car gives him a newspaper clipping about the murders we just saw. and mulder came here after getting AN ANONYMOUS EMAIL in the middle of the night??? this is crazy because literally so many people want him dead and this would have been a very easy way to accomplish that goal. wow. seriously, no self-preservation instincts on this guy.

mystery man says he has no obligation to explain what is going on, but if mulder walks away from it, more people will die. so no pressure!! xx

cutscene to a hospital, where mulder is watching our murderer through glass, while scully comes in saying that she is sorry she is late, but “the beltway was a parking lot”. beltway refers to interstate 495! thank you wikipedia i love your services!

murderer is named joseph. and he claims to have been killing the same guy over and over again, and that he wouldn’t die. which seems pretty awful.

OH! and the week before, in the same town, a babysitter attacked the kids she was watching because she thought they were WOLVES??? omg that is horrific??

they’re talking to the physician, dr. stroman, who says perhaps this was provoked by amphetamine abuse. then joseph starts SCREAMING. he sees a guy on the TV- miriskovic- sorry y’all idk my post-soviet history 💔 (update: i googled it, i don't even think that guy was real because all the results are links to wikis on this specific episode... reveals how little i truly know)

anyway, seeing that guy's face on the TV seems to have triggered the screaming situation. does he have trauma from the country he used to live in and seeing references to it makes these things happen…? that would be a wild episode. put me in the writer's room and let me cook.

scully quickly picks up on the fact that this case is Weird, and mulder admits it came from some random guy, which makes her suspicious. but they go to the crime scene, and, like always, he lifts the crime scene tape up over her head, and it’s very charming despite the lack of sensibility in going down this whole rabbit hole.

the minute they get in, they hear screaming and a gunshot! but it’s just some kids watching TV??? eating popcorn in a crime scene??? LMAO WHAT?

mulder kicks them out and scruffs one of the boy’s heads... ohhhh he needs to be a father so bad huh... like i have been saying this since s1 he just has a Need to tease and spoil children. well, we can unpack that another time. there's crime afoot.

so he watches the tv and it starts to go all static-y because a guy outside is fixing the wires. scully finds a TON of tapes and they’re just shelves and shelves of cable TV shows!!!

“there must be hundreds of videos here”, she says, to which he asks “anything good?” <- idk why this made me giggle. it sounded like he was gonna put one in and chill for a bit lmao

scully starts to wonder if seeing the cable news, like joseph had recorded, was what triggered his episode back at the hospital. ooooh! a theory!!! 

cut to mulder watching a tape in the bed of his motel, making an absolute pile of sunflower seeds- this dude is gonna attract mice or something someday omfg- and also he has a cola which is peak american culture. LMAOOOO he has a HUGE pile of tapes on the floor i’m crying... my type A self could NOT deal with him!

he says he watched 36 hours of bernard shaw and bobbi batista and is now also ready to kill someone as scully welcomes him into her room, which also has cola but is much more nicely organized! she found something weird on the tapes from late april, each a night when he committed a murder 

AND WHY DID MULDER GET ALL COZIED UP ON HER COUCH?????? hooooooly fuck i have never seen such a baby girl of a man

OMFG??? all the reports from the murder nights feature that miriskovic guy!!!

so did seeing violence make him violent? mulder says no, and that theory assumes that “americans are just empty vessels, ready to be filled with any idea or image that’s fed to them like a bunch of pavlov dogs, and go out and act on it” oh if only this man could see the news lately……… insert ben affleck smoking a cigarette image here to describe the things we see in our current age. mulder you would not believe.

he’s really bashing her theory, but she’s saying maybe he was high and seeing these things sent him on a spiral- makes sense to me

he is leaving to go get some sleep (after admitting he can’t explain what is going on!!! which always endears me) but scully says she is going to watch the rest of the tapes… a herculean task for our girl

middle of the night and it’s still tape time for scully, but she hears the phone ringing. she hears mulder having a conversation. and he says “no, she doesn’t” which is weird… that is suspicious… what doesn't she...

scully chews her ice which is so funny because me too sometimes. she has chewed all of her ice and must fetch more. and get a cola ofc!!! nothing more american than a cold soda iktr!

but she sees mulder in his car??? lighting up with cig man???? HUH??? and handing over a tape? omfg this is crazy. i assume she is hallucinating though, because no way….

cutscene to a lady named helene watching “the price is nice” (lmaooo) and washing some dishes. but the soap in the dishes starts to look funny- and everything is glitching around her!!! she sees a man outside in a hammock… kissing a woman!!! and oh, she is furious!! she gets her SHOTGUN?? this has escalated very fast. and we hear some shooting!!!

scully is still very visibly disturbed. mulder is reporting the murder, but she seems like a shell of herself. she checks the ash tray in the car, and there is no ash… she notices the car has been moved and he says he got a paper…. why do you ask…. “nothing. it’s nothing” OHHH THIS IS JUICY

so the crime scene has a very bloody hammock. and a dead man, who the wife claims he saw in the hammock with a blonde. but the only other creature at the scene was a dog!!!

OH!!! the hammock man wasn’t even helene's HUSBAND??? this really is LAYERED!! she killed the NEIGHBOR thinking it was her husband, who wasn’t even in town!!!!!! how do you mess this up so badly?

despite the fact that scully is clearly suspicious of mulder, she is sharing the umbrella with him in their usual fashion, and the sense of tension this produces is delicious 

they go to investigate the crime scene and mulder finds some sort of bike and immediately climbs upon it while proclaiming that television does NOT cause violence (LMAOOO HE IS SO WEIRD i need him.) 

they find a bunch more tapes and AGAIN the same guy is messing with the cables outside while they're investigating!!!! mulder is in chase mode!!!! but he cannot chase this dude in the van!!! no man, even a track star such as him, can outrun a van carrying secrets!

scully is trying to fast forward the TV and she looks out to see mulder climbing the pole…. average day for a man like him. he finds a weird cable scrambler in there. she wants to send it to the crime lab, but he says he’ll do the analysis, and she should go interview helene the murderer. OH... she is so suspicious, she just wants to go home…. scully :((( mulder is deeply confused as to why she is being so weird 

so he takes the thingy to the lone gunmen, who say it looks like it’s used for blocking premium cable channels, which i didn’t even know was a thing, you learn so much with this show. but it doesn’t block anything!!! HOWEVER, if you compare a tv with the machine and one without it, the one with the machine is slightly different. hmm...

“you know how television works?” “yeah, you click it on, you have a picture” <- the man who said that line went to oxford btw

it seems that this cable blocker thingy is adding some sort of frequency, but they can’t tell what… hmm.

mulder on the road. scully calls and only asks “where are you” in this very flat and creepy tone and OH i’m scared!!!!

he tries to explain that there is some sort of signal being introduced to the tv- he even says she might be right about the tv inducing violence theory! but she isn’t answering… she hears a clicking, like they're being listened to, and she says he never went to the detective…. let’s wait and talk on a landline, he says.

despite being in his car many miles away, he can tell that there is something very wrong with scully. he says don’t go anywhere, he’ll be right there, and redials after she hangs up. it's very much echoing when she said something similar to him in his crazed gargoyle quest.

but she is so scared, she rips the phone out of the wall and takes it apart!!!! and then the lamp too, and the table. she is checking everything for any sort of bugs!

holy hell, we have never seen her like this before... but i’m actually gagged because she is usually relatively stoic and seeing her paranoid is so different, but it also feels very natural??? she is acting her ass off here as she rips up everything in this motel room. big shoutout to GA, i love your work.

and the static that set in helene's vision earlier is setting in hers now!!! she hears a car pull up and drops to the floor…. she hears a man say “she’s in here” and a pounding on the door. 

OMFG someone tries to open the door and she FIRES 4 SHOTS RIGHT AWAY??? but it’s mulder!!!!

(author's note: i was thinking after i finished the episode, and we know that she is a good shot- remember how she hit just the right angle to knock mulder out but not kill him at the end of s2? so she is either SO out of it that she cannot even aim straight, or there is a tiny tiny tiny part of her that still thinks that mulder isn't worth killing. please mull over which option brings you greater angst)

he’s coming in with his gun and his hair is blowing in the wind and he can’t FIND HER!!!!! it was really very dramatic. hair blowing in the wind has this effect.

cutscene to scully’s mom’s house, and we see a picture of young scully on the table... AWW stop she’s so cuuuute and one of missy as well 😭😭😭

OH! it’s mulder on the phone calling mrs. scully in the middle of the night!!! NOOOO he has to tell her that he doesn’t know where she is :( NOOOO poor mrs. scully has gone through too much. he feels SO bad breaking this news, that he even apologizes for hanging up right away, something he never ever does. he must be in deeeep distress to do such a thing.

and why does he hang up?? because SKINNER IS HERE!!! he’s leading a manhunt for scully, and mulder is saying she shouldn’t be hunted like a convict… but skinner says dude SHE FIRED FOUR ROUNDS AT YOU AND SOME RANDOM GUY last night!!!!

despite this, mulder insists that he can get her to listen to him if they just keep her safe; she’s suffering from some sort of paranoid psychosis. skinner is being quite patient as he tries to explain that the video tapes made her do it. skinner says well... you better find her before these guys do.

GASP!!! he’s putting up the x on his window! and doing that thing where he bounces his basketball because he cannot relax!!! stop i'm emotional!!!!!

the lone gunmen call to say they found something on the tape…. and it induces electrical activity…. MIND CONTROL???

but why wasn’t he effected?

! MULDER LORE REVEAL ! HE’S RED-GREEN COLORBLIND???? THIS IS AN INSANE LORE DROP TO GIVE NEARLY 4 SEASONS IN??????

wait, is this just for plot purposes, or is DD actually colorblind and they decided to roll with it? because now i’m gonna be looking at all the red-ish things we see on screen (like his tie he is grabbing to emphasize his point) and wonder, can he see that? how does this impact his tie selection process....

okay that really threw me off guard. man, i was getting to think we'd never get another lore reveal, which is a shame because i quite like formatting those facts in that way. good to know we could get more at anytime!

he gets a phone call from maryland state police. the lone gunmen ask if she’s okay and he says no, he has to go and ID the body. WHAT!!!! WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!! he is trying to keep composed. holy fuck………..

(heavy breathing as i grab your shoulder and squeeze) hey man. hey. he was trying so hard to be strong.

so he pulls up to the morgue and stops before he gets out of the car, and holds his head above the wheel STOP I’LL CRY???? i’ll cry… what are they putting him through??? losing her again……..

(i mean i have SEEN gifs of scully in seasons past this one, so i know she's gonna pull through, but HE doesn't know that, and must be reliving the worst days of his life AGAIN, and aughhhhh!)

but the mystery guy from the start of the episode that give him the info on the muders pulls up and says get in right now!!!!!! mulder is furious, he says he’s busy. in a shocking display of insensitivity, mystery man says he does not give a fuck. mulder is yelling that this is all his fault. mystery man says “they” are destroying the evidence, and they’ll finish it by tomorrow if he keeps searching for her, but he kicks the door shut and ignores him.

(omg…. he loves her enough to break him out of his bloodhound mode… the dogged ahab-like quest for answers and revenge… i’m getting flashbacks to his conversation with missy in one breath…….. realizing he needs to put the ones he loves before his need for revenge sometimes..... wow)

so he walks into the morgue, and the dude in there says they found a body nude and shot in the forehead.

he closes his eyes to try and brace himself before taking a peek, to prepare to see her lifeless, probably reliving those many hours by her bedside when she was in the hospital, trying to imagine her shot in the forehead, the scully he knows and loves with her dry humor and her teasing smile and caffeine dependency, the her that is so full of life, lifeless…

but it isn’t her. PHEW!

despite this being good news that he has to share- she's not dead! her mother isn’t answering her phone…. so he goes to her house. and i'm thinking, oh my gosh, did she do something rash in her grief?

but mrs. scully answers the door and claims dana isn’t here. he bursts in and says he needs to see her right now. omg, he saw right through her lies.

(also, it always feels weird to refer to her as dana, but moving on)

NO!!!! she has him at gunpoint and says he’s here to kill him!!! poor guy looks so flabbergasted… and her mom is trying to get her to please put down the gun, and he’s trying to explain what is going on!!! he is so singularly locked into her…. 

“he’s lied to me from the beginning. he’s never trusted me” “scully, you are the only one i trust” AUGHHHHH (rips my clothes off of my body in biblical levels of grief) 

“you’re one of the people who abducted me” AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (rips off not only my clothing but also my hair as i experience emotions that rival what job from the bible went through)

she’s CRYING, and saying he killed her sister while her mom gets between him and the gun… and she’s saying she knows she’s safe here, that’s why she came here, and to put the gun down. and she falls into her mother’s arms sobbing. 

WHAAAAAAAAT. and he had to watch all that… oh my scully oh my goodness my poor scully…

timeskip a little bit. he shows up to the hospital where scully is with her mother, and mockingly puts his hands up in surrender, because he is so STUPID and he always has to make a joke, and i love him so terribly, so so so terribly, because he loves HER.

she's laying in the bed, and he shuts off the tv and asks how she’s feeling. she says she is ASHAMED- as if being a victim of mind control was a personal failing. scully, i want to yell, you have NO REASON to be ashamed, let me take all the shame from you and carry it elsewhere. she says it was like the world was turned upside down.

and he makes ANOTHER stupid joke about the world being out to get him, and now she knows how he feels-

before leaning in and explaining how joseph, the first murderer on this case, became convinced he was killing the bosnian war criminal who people called “the modern hitler”, which was especially important to him because both of his parents survived the holocaust. hence his line about the killing days being over!!!

and helene was scared her husband would cheat on her. so somehow the TV signal turned their worst fears into a living nightmare. 

OHHHH HER WORST NIGHTMARE IS HIM BETRAYING HER. HIM BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR HER GOING MISSING AND LOSING HER AUTONOMY AND MEMORIES... wails into my shirt. 

(this reminds me of that episode in s2- irresistible- when we learn her biggest fear is that humans are capable of terrible horrific things and grasping to trust despite that knowledge. we’re seeing that again right here. how uncertainty seeps in)

THEY CALL HIM THE CANCER MAN!!! wow very official canon recognition of the name (yeah it’s happened before but it happened again so that is cool) anyway she says she saw him giving cancer man the tapes and reporting.

he says that maybe cancer man was behind this, but then he whispers “why don’t you try and get some rest?” and there is something in me that melts so entirely as he leaves her to sleep.

(perhaps it is the fact that hurt/comfort and whump are my favorite tropes. because is there anything more intimate than letting someone see you at your most vulnerable, and them choosing to love you at it? is there any feeling more cutting than seeing your loved one suffer and knowing you’d stop the world for an instant of their relief? the terrible desperation of both parties, the wordless connection upon recovery, someone being the last thing you see before everything fades to black and then the first person you see when you return... yeah. it’s cathartic. but also it makes me want to yell and cry. pls give me all the hurt/comfort content)

so the doctor found high serotonin levels in her that maybe can be associated with mania, but now they’re back to normal. he asks if someone in her situation would be diagnosed with amphetamine abuse, and she says no. then he quickly calls the hospital where joseph is staying… what is he cooking in there…

he wants to talk to joseph's doctor, dr. stroman, who left behind only a number from the motel…. and he had JUST checked out…. so he’s going through his stuff. and asking about his calls. and he DOES find a cigarette in his room but a lot of people smoke so… try not to jump to conclusions juni… but the cigarettes mean one thing in this show!!! was this innocent-looking doctor behind such a cruel experiment?!

he calls and has the last number the doctor called get checked from the folks at the lab… so he goes to visit the place of residence and creepy music is playing. the dude from the cable company we saw before rolls up!!! he walks right inside the house, so mulder peeks inside. it seems the people in the house set up a trap of some sort, as they are talking about “him” showing up at 7.

he bursts in after hearing gunshots and both of the men in there are dead!!! shot in the head!!!!

who is there... but X???? X says he HAD to kill those men- he just hoped mulder would get them first. and oh, mulder is YELLING AT X!!! he is letting him HAVE IT!!! he says he is a coward, he was too scared to unveil the situation with the mind control TV murders himself….. he says X NEVER risks his own life, but he sure does make him risk mulder and scully’s.

OH! he is holding X at gunpoint. all X is saying is that he failed, and that mulder needs him. so he walks out, confident he won't pull the trigger. and he doesn't. 

WHAT! i need to kind of just let that sit for a second. i need to figure out this X fellow, but i get the sense i never will…. he failed… because he chose to try and save scully…….

cutscene to skinner’s office, where mulder is giving him a report. and scully walks in and says that dr. stroman DIED IN 1978!!! when skinner asks about the killer, mulder jumps in and says he remains unknown… oh, skinner is def gonna pick up on that….

so now we see X in a random back alley. getting into a car…. WITH CANCER MAN?????? X REPORTS TO CANCER MAN??? he asks if he has completed his work, and X reports that he has cleaned out all the personnel, everything is removed, but mulder still has a device. and mulder’s source has been eliminated. but the source’s source remains unknown. oh, he’s def lying through his teeth.

OOOOOOH this episode was SO good.

oh man, my brain is racing in a bunch of different directions. scully breaking down and sobbing into her mother’s arms…. scully convinced that mulder is a traitor, that he did those terrible things to her…. mulder so scared that she was gone, bouncing his basketball, getting a call from the police department that he had to go identify her… choosing her, even in what he thought was death, over following the Truth… the sick and twisted relationship he has with X, and X with Cancer Man, and Cancer Man with the world… it’s making me think of how mulder broke into his house that one time, was going to kill him over what he did to scully, and cancer man had the nerve to say he liked mulder… OOOH my brain is just racing racing racing. 

poor scully… how scared she was, how horrified afterward… 

other things that are on my mind, in no particular order: the bond between scully and her mother; mulder being all babygirl on that couch; mulder hopping on that bicycle and picking up some random doll from the murder victim's house; how haunting scully's voice was when she asked him over the phone where he was; their cola drinking; mrs. scully trusting mulder no matter what; how he tried to cover the grief in his voice when he told the lone gunmen he had to go identify her body; how he kicked the door shut of the mystery man, damning the investigation to pay his respects; how his head hovered above the wheel of the car before he got out to do that; how X uses and uses him to no clear end, and what is HE doing reporting to cig man, and what was that random doctor doing conducted fucked up experiments on random people; and scully's miraculously bad aim; mulder's conviction he could talk sense into her (spoiler: he could not); her shame at being convinced he had been the one who abducted her; how terrifying that must have been; and his stupid jokes when he walked into her hospital room, with the sincerity he tries so hard to outrun and outfox breaking through in his whispered why don't you get some rest?

so needless to say, i see why this one is a fan-favorite. this is certainly one i will be revisiting in the future when i need something strong. i have a million things to think over that will stick with me Forever, and i am in no rush to move on from this. in fact, i took these notes yesterday, but in the process of editing them tonight, i have decided i am not ready for the season finale and will have to save it for tomorrow because i'm still feeling So Many Things. so stay tuned to see how that goes, because whew!

[oceanlipgloss]

LUNCHBOX

MEPHISTOPHELES.

+ no warnings.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Nobles didn’t need lunchboxes. They didn’t share lunches on school benches.

Nobles indulged in fancy luncheons and had luxurious dinners. That was how he had always lived; not for decades and not for centuries, but for millennia. Yet, the next thing he knew, this pretty and horribly fragile creature had come along and spoiled the whole rhythm.

That did not merely mean his lunching habits, of course, or the traditional noble programme, or anything else like that—for the little butterfly had let her wings move a bit too fast, fly a little too far. She had let herself land on his velvet fingertip, twirl around in his brain, then sneak her way into his heart.

Do you understand what it was like for him?

She was messing with his mind and troubling his heart, spreading the nectar from part to part until the entire organ was contracting with his red admiration, and all her own.

He was a demon. Holy scripts of all kinds and in all languages told of how those like him are damned before their creation, and born damned still.

Goddamn it though, wasn’t she a demon too? She made disliking her hard, altered the rhythm of his heart; it pounded faster when she was there. Made him think about her so much, all the time, even when he had better things to do—more important things, like taking down a fallen angel, for instance.

Goodness...was this not an alarmingly strange phenomenon all around? That is why, for the first time in his seemingly endless life he actually and genuinely thought, ‘I am damned.’

How could he not? Was there even a sliver of probability to think otherwise?

After all, he was willingly seated next to a commoner on a school bench. So much like a silly school crush...

The cherry on top, though? The icing on the cake? The sugar rush to his bafflement? How he was heartily eating the weird stuff in her lunchbox. The flavours were very good.

Oh, dear.

Scratch that.

It was worse.

So much worse.

He was so, so, dangerously close to a human, a mortal woman whom he had not been very fond of—if at all—in the beginning, and for quite a long time. Their shoulders were touching. She was very warm. He could feel the mellow heat through the fabric of her uniform.

Were all humans this warm, or was it just her?

He would have to study that later.

For now...well.

It wasn’t just mere material proximity; it was not their bodies that were close only. The romantic tales and legends did not quite get it right, and many poets did not pen it properly.

How to put it...

You see, he could almost feel a quaint connection in their souls, as though mystic hands were tugging at the enchanted thread by which their spirits were tied. It was a thread impossible to see with the eye, but easy to feel in the heart.

And he had no way of truly knowing, but perhaps their hearts, too, were pulsating to the same song playing within them.

Unsettling as it were, the feeling and the sensations it brought remained quite nice.

Routine is a curious matter; it arranges days and nights, organises time itself—and yet, should they choose to, one can change it however they like.

Before this lunchbox ordeal, his hours had constantly resembled one another and looked nearly identical. They were too much alike.

He had followed a certain pattern, but now he had chosen to paint for himself a new excitement—an unprecedented event with an unexpected person—in that redundant schedule.

In truth, she was well aware that he did not hate her, so she was the one who had been incessant on spending this time with him. She was the one who had begun their little journey of sweet fortune.

She taught him new things. Sometimes she talked about profound matters. Sometimes she made meaningless small talk. Eventually, she made him think about how he would love to visit the twisted realm of humans with her.

With her, he realised that solitude disappears. Relations could be blessings. He was happier eating common simplicity packed into a plastic box more than he had ever been stabbing silverware into fine gourmet meals laid on exquisite china.

Never once had he imagined he would find spiritual pleasure in the company of this particular creature, this—truth be told—lovely lady. It appeared that fate had wished to prove him wrong in this subject, and so it was.

But when it had never before crossed his mind that he would one day come to enjoy her presence and bask in her warmth, how could he ever have predicted that he would long for that same warmth to be by his side?

Perhaps it was true that ignorance is bliss.

Who could know whether their soul will ever bind itself to someone or not?

Who could ever know the destined one that will rob them of their heart?

There is no need to do so.

Walking through time with an unknowing mind that cannot form any predictions and blind eyes that cannot make out a picture of the future could be pleasant.

What one cannot expect may very well turn out to be a great surprise, an absolute delight...or their sweetest demise.

+note: sort of word-vomited this one and wanted to put it up.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[justfranzz]

Gorgug Thistlespring was mad.

Well… mad was an understatement. He was furious, liquid fire shooting through his veins and filling him up, up, up, until he was sure he would spill over and slash and tear and claw the world apart.

But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

So he clenched his fists, and bit his tongue, and sang himself a little song. Because Gorgug Thistlespring was supposed to be kind, and gentle, and patient. His parents had told him that all his life, so he tried his best, he really did. But sometimes it was just… too much.

It scared him, sometimes, how angry he got.

When he was ten, before he had learned to turn the fire inside of him to steel, he beat a girl so badly she was hospitalized for a week. She had called him a mistake, a freak, had said his real parents didn’t love him, that they had abandoned him because he wasn't worth loving. It was stupid, but he was ten, and he didn’t know. He didn’t know.

His vision was red, and everything was on fire, and he was too hot, and the next thing he knew he was on the ground and she was under him, ribs fractured, arm broken in two places, blood gushing from her nose.

She looked terrified.

It scared Gorgug, how easy it had been, bones crunching under his touch and blood wetting his fists. He had barely even needed to try. He locked himself away in his room for a week afterwards, handcuffed his wrists together, threw up every time he remembered her bloody, terrified face.

His parents sang to him through the door, built silly little contraptions, tried to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault. He knew, though, of course he knew. The walls in his home were paper thin. He heard Wilma crying in their bedroom every night; Digby’s sad, quiet attempts at comfort.

When Gorgug finally came out of his self-imposed prison, he felt as though some part of himself were permanently altered. He knew, now, that he was a monster. That he was dangerous.

He asked his parents to teach him how to channel his anger. It helped. Not enough, but it helped. So he sang his little songs, and ran laps around the city until he couldn’t feel his legs, and pounded hot metal into the shape of birds and rabbits and flowers and pretended it was a body he was hitting instead.

Still, he was angry.

He could feel it, always lurking just under the surface, simmering. A part of him wanted to do it again, to feel the adrenaline and the heat and the power. That part terrified him.

It got worse with puberty. His shoulders broadened, his teeth grew longer and sharper, he had shot up to six foot four by the time he was thirteen. Now everyone else could tell, just by looking at him, what he already knew. He was dangerous. He was frightening. He could hurt people.

(He was afraid that they could see the part of him that wanted to.)

Gorgug slouched, and talked as softly as he could, and made flowers, and hoped that maybe if he sang enough songs, the fire would go away. It never did.

His first party formed in middle school. They were his first real friends - a pretty water genasi druid named Chrystal, a human bard named Gabe, and a goblin cleric named Fingus. They only went on one mission. The first time they saw Gorgug go into a rage - mouth open in a snarl, that familiar fire lighting up his veins, greataxe raised and ready - they ran. The thug they had been chasing ran, too, a full adult elf scared of a twelve year old boy.

He was just too dangerous, too scary, too monstrous to be around. Gorgug knew this, so he hid. He took the angry, violent part of himself and locked it up in a heavy metal safe and shoved it into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind where no one could find it. He sat in the farthest corner of the room in class, he didn't touch his ax unless he had to, he wore the baggiest clothes he could find to cover up his bulky form. Gorgug hid, and he pretended he wasn't everything that made up him.

When he met the Bad Kids, things changed.

The Bad Kids were different. They didn’t flinch when he went into a rage, they didn’t care how easy it was for him to slice a person in half; they thought his strength was impressive, not threatening. They touched him like they weren’t afraid, holding his hand and throwing themselves around his shoulders and wrapping their arms around his massive torso, like they didn’t know he could crush them with his bare hands. Like they wouldn't care even if he did.

More than that, the Bad Kids were angry, and they weren’t afraid of it.

Fig was rage incarnate; she was openly, loudly, defiantly furious, and it wasn’t scary at all, not to Gorgug. It was beautiful. She wore her anger like a shield, so different from the way he hid it away. She punched people she didn’t like, and hit people in the head with her bass guitar, and yelled and cursed and smoked. She was angry, and she wanted everyone to know it, and more than that she wanted everyone to feel it.

Fabian was pissed off more often than not. Eventually, Gorgug learned that the boy was angry at himself, the heavy pressure of his father's expectations weighing down on him. He wanted to instill fear, to leave his enemies cowering at his feet. Fabian reveled in fear; used it to his advantage.

Kristen was frustrated at her ex-god, her parents, the role models she had depended on all of her life. She felt betrayed, and broken, and lost, and she showed it like it didn't matter, like she didn't care if everyone saw. Like she wanted to send a message, to tell a story to everyone who would listen. Like she was proud of it.

Adaine's anger was quiet, most of the time, like a refrigerator humming in the background; always there, but so subtle you tuned it out after a while. But when she was faced with the cruelty of her sister or her parents, she became an explosion, loud and bitter and fiery. Adaine had to work for her anger, refusing to rationalize and excuse away the things that had been done to her. She viewed her anger as an achievement, a marker of how far she had come.

Riz's fury was often backed by fear, but it was no less powerful for it. Riz wanted nothing more than to solve mysteries and protect his friends, and anyone who got in the way of either of those things risked meeting with the business end of a loaded pistol. His anger was the fire in the chamber of a gun, giving power to his desires. It was a way of showing his love, of how much his party meant to him.

The Bad Kids were angry, but they were kind. They were angry, but still they extended compassion wherever they could, and Gorgug learned for the first time that being angry didn't mean he couldn't be gentle. The Bad Kids were furious, and they were considerate, and they were passionate, and they cared, and none of those things canceled out the others.

Gorgug learned that it was okay to use his anger as a weapon, to slash and hit and break, but he also learned that he could be gentle in a way that didn't feel insincere. He learned to rest his head on Fig's shoulder, just enough pressure to show affection but not enough to hurt her. He learned to hold Fabian's hand in his without worrying he'd crush it, and that it was okay to squeeze a little. He learned to carry Riz on his shoulders, and spin around as fast as he could, goblin arms tight around his thick neck for balance. He learned how to make tea from Adaine, large hands delicately holding a porcelain cup with practiced care. He learned to wrap his long arms around Kristen when she hugged him, and that being surrounded by him wasn't scary for her, but comforting.

The Bad Kids healed something in him he didn't know was there anymore, and as Gorgug slowly unlocked the box he had shoved in the corner of his mind, he found that perhaps his rage had not been as monstrous as it had at first appeared.

Maybe he was just a high school boy, and sometimes high school boys were angry, and that was okay. Maybe anger was a tool, and it was okay to use it as long as he was gentle, too.

Gorgug was angry, and with time, he learned to be proud of it.

[fandomfaeofveryfewf4cks]

Things I noticed the nth time watching Nimona:

Knight armour can get sliced through like nobody's business (Balister's arm), but can take a laser hit without serious, body-altering consequences (Director hitting Ambrosius with a laser made from the same one that apparently has the power to wipe out half the realm, or kill an Immortal being who doesn't feel severe pain from an arrow wound)?

...is this because Ambrosius' armour was made to be more protective than Balister's?

"She manipulated BOTH of us." Ambrosius says this about Nimona, who he had very few interactions with aside from her very blatantly fucking shit up for the institute. How did she manipulate HIM?

I guess it probably makes sense when you consider he was going to arrest the director, implying that he believed Bal AND Nimona, but I dunno. The little rat in my head started running on its brain-powering wheel at all the possible fanfic plots this could lead to.

Nimona as Ambrosius grabbed the Gloreth statue when they fell to the ground.

On the one hand, this could just be actor!Nimona putting dramatic emphasis on how even in death, the leaders of the realm will cling to their hopes and beliefs, or the golden boy finally getting to join his ancestor.

On the other hand, we could make it deliciously angsty (yum yum) and say it is Nimona's personal desire to grab the statue of Gloreth for reasons such as: taking down the monster-killer image of her former friend out of anger and sadness because she never wanted that image to be so true in representing one of the few people who ever cared about her even briefly;

OR, While trying to think about how she would act if she were actually dying, she reaches for the closest thing to a friend that she has, but this is her staging a false death, as that particular friendship was false so this is just fitting, isn't it?;

OR, They wanted it to spread a message that with the fall of the director, would come the fall of the corrupt system they live in, as well as the fall of this narrow-minded view of both Nimona and Gloreth's story as well as Gloreth and Nimona themselves.

Nimona freaking out about the arrow in their leg in the comic vs Nimona treating it like a little scrape not to be worried about in the movie.

This is really interesting to me. In the comic, it's played up for humor like Nimona is almost overreacting, then having Bal take care of her because he does care about her. This shows it as a bit silly, but so very meaningful.

Then you have the movie where Balister is freaking out and it's kind of funny because clearly Nimona is relatively fine about it, so he doesn't really need to make a big deal out of it. Then he helps her and is still very careful about it like with anyone else's arrow wound, and asks her questions so he can better understand them. Again so very important.

I love both versions of these scenes, I just am so curious about why they made such a drastic change.

I love this movie so freaking much. (I knew that already, but it bears saying for the thousandth time. It's just so fucking good.)

For this last one:

TW: mention of police brutality (discussed as a theme in the movie, nothing specific outside of the Nimona movie)

"He's got a weapon." It's not a weapon. It's a phone. But Todd (and who knows how many of the other knights) didn't choose to see it as anything other than what the director told him it was, and destroyed it as he was trained to do. This screams messaging about the stupid, dangerous, and harmful actions of too many police officers who don't check the situation for themselves before acting on "information" they gathered from insufficient data and/or unreliable sources, and combine that with profiling to make decisions that so often end up being harmful and even fatal to others.

[jomiddlemarch]

call understanding thy kinswoman

“Here,” Mary said, pushing a steaming mug in front of Rilla after hurrying through the ordinary polite exchanges required of a greeting, even among family. “Drink this first. You look green around the gills and I don’t fancy explaining to Jem why his baby sister ended up in a puddle on our sitting room floor.”

“We’re in the kitchen,” Rilla said, turning her face away from the table. Feeling the nausea rise in her throat, hardly daring to take a deep breath. “I can’t drink your coffee, it’s too strong—”

“It’s ginger tea, silly. And if you faint here, I’ll still tell your brother we were in the sitting room, not at the kitchen table. He’s been at me to get a girl to help and I don’t want one—”

“You’d lie about something like this,” Rilla asked. She reached forward and picked up the mug, inhaled the spicy scent of the ginger tea. She gestured with a little nod of her head at the scene, Mary across from her at the well-scrubbed table, all the pots and pans gleaming copper in the dull, cloudy light of a dull, cloudy afternoon that hadn’t made its mind up yet to rain.

“Of course. If the lie was what was needed. What James— what Jem needed,” Mary said. Rilla recalled Mary called Jem by his Christian name, the only one he’d allow to do so, though he’d given their mother a quelling near-glare when she’d remarked on it. Mary gave Rilla a familiar look, one that sized her up in a moment, though it was fonder than it used to be, an alteration Rilla attributed to Mary’s affection for Jem. “It’s Ken you want to talk about. Go on then.”

“How did you know?” Rilla said. She sipped at the tea, willing it to do something. Ginger was said to help. She’d learned though, that many things people said would help a difficult situation weren’t the least bit helpful and that people, with the possible exception of Una and Rosemary Meredith, had an endless supply of suggestions. Mary most often held her tongue around the Blythe family, but she wouldn’t hold back if you asked her opinion.

“You’d have gone to your mother if you were fussed about morning sickness or having the baby,” Mary said. “It would’ve been a gift, to give her something like that to occupy her. If you wanted some coddling. You’re here instead and it’s certainly not for my shortbread. Nan’s away and Jerry’s crippled because of his back, nothing else. She wouldn’t be much help and you don’t want her pity.”

“Mother’s useless,” Rilla said. Admitted. “And Nan’s a priss and always has been—”

“Finally,” Mary muttered under her breath.

“But it really is that Jerry’s wounds are all just physical. Sometimes I wish, I think, maybe if Ken had lost an arm or needed a cane, it would be better. Easier,” Rilla said.

“Maybe. Or maybe he’d be like he is now only with one arm of his jacket pinned up or walking around like an old man before he’s turned thirty. There aren’t any bargains to be made about this, Rilla. Nor wishes.”

“He came home and he said, he asked me, ‘Are you Rilla-my-Rilla?’ and I said yes,” Rilla said, looking down into the crockery mug. It was sturdy and practical, like her sister-in-law, and her own mother would have blanched to serve a cup of tea in it, let alone her sister. There were no tea leaves to read, so she looked back up and found Mary watching her, a little half-smile on her lips.

“Are you bothered by your answer or his question?” 

Rilla laughed in spite of herself.

“Dad says you’re wasted as a doctor’s wife, that you ought to be a barrister.”

Mary smiled and though there was no flush in her cheeks, her expression warmed, her fair hair suddenly seemed richer in tone, more like the narrow gold band on her fourth finger.

“Your father’s twice as fanciful as your mother is and I’ve heard her go on to Bruce Meredith about fairies and mayflowers more than I could ever believe,,” she said. “Being a doctor’s wife suits me fine. Jem will be home in a few hours, though, and I’ve his supper to see to, so if you do want to talk, you might be getting on with it.”

“He’s not himself. Ken. He’s not who he was when he went away. When he asked me to wait. He’s not mine, even if I’m his,” Rilla said, all in a rush. She felt queasy again, unsure why, neither explanation a comfort.

“Couldn’t be, could he? Especially since he came home and others didn’t. Walter,” Mary said. “I think he’d hate it, Walter, how he’s a saint now and Ken and the rest of them, they’ve got to be men all the time and tell us it’s all in the past, it was worth it. Cheerful, determined. I’ve never wondered Shirley won’t come back to the Glen, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Rilla said.

“There you go. That’s what you needed to get to,” Mary said. It was rare to be praised by her and Rilla was surprised how much she liked it. How much it was a balm. “Can he sleep?”

“Sometimes. Not well. He has dreams, he won’t talk about them,” Rilla said.

“I won’t say anything,” Mary replied. “To anyone. Certainly not your brother. He can’t sleep either. He cries sometimes, without ever waking up. You won’t say anything about that.”

“Oh,” Rilla said. “I didn’t know—”

“He doesn’t want anyone troubled. I’m the only one who won’t let him get away with that. Which is partly why he married me,” Mary said.

“I don’t know why Ken married me,” Rilla said softly.

Mary chuckled, but it had none of the wry mockery of her usual laughter.

“You poor pet. I forget, sometimes, how young you are.”

“I’m only six years younger than you, Mary, not a generation,” Rilla snapped.

“When I was six, my ma hung herself and my pa slit his wrists,” Mary said. “You were always precious. I wasn’t, not to anybody, not ‘til Jem anyway. Ken married you because you were the dream he had that kept him alive in that absolute hell in France. Because you wrote to him and you raised that baby and because you’re the happiness he always thought he wanted. You’re easy on the eyes too, but I’ll grant him that it’s easier to fall in love with a pretty girl than a plain one.”

“You can’t marry a dream,” Rilla said.

“No, you can’t. Nor live with one. They came home, however they did, and for a while, anyway, I suppose it’s up to us to figure out how to be more than that. It’s harder for you, because of your families and how you had that crush on him and he had that memory of you in a party dress in the moonlight to go by. Jem didn’t have any dreams of me to get in the way,” Mary said.

“Is this how you talk to Jem?”

“I’ll thank you to keep your nosy questions to yourself,” Mary retorted. 

“I only meant, is this how you help him through?”

“It doesn’t matter. You have to find out how to talk to Ken and I haven’t any advice about that man. Well, I’ve a little. I think he’s got to feel guilty as sin to have come home with just a few scars and everyone expects him to write some masterpiece and he won’t want to let anyone down. I bet it’s hard to have any ideas after the trenches and it’s hard to write when your hands tremble.”

“How did you know?”

“Jem’s do, sometimes. I’ve learned to look for it. Get Ken a typewriter, that’s my advice. Tell him about the baby before you tell your mother. Promise him you won’t call it Walter. Say you want some ordinary name that no one in your family’s gotten all tied up with sentiment and honor. John. Margaret. Maybe Alice, like Alice in Wonderland.”

“My grandfather’s name was John,” Rilla said. Grandfather Blythe, who’d died before she was born.

“Everyone’s grandfather was named John,” Mary said.

“I suppose that’s nearly true,” Rilla said and smiled. 

“Nearly true’s good enough more than you’d think,” Mary said. “You should come round for dinner here sometimes. We can let them go sit on the porch while we gossip about Faith Drew while we make some tea to go with the cake you bring. I heard she bobbed her hair and she smokes and Bertie don’t care. ‘Scuse me, she calls him Will, like we all don’t remember him being a holy terror and his ma hollering his name Bertie Shakespeare for him to come home.”

“You’ll serve my cake?” Rilla said. It was the biggest surprise, as Nan had already passed along the gossip about Faith’s hair and her modern ways. Fast, Susan said, frowning and Rilla, who had never thought it possible, had found herself nodding along. 

“Susan won’t give me her recipe for plum cake and it’s one of Jem’s favorites. He’ll have two slices, enormous ones, if we’re there for Sunday dinner and she puts it out,” Mary said. “He’s greedy for sweets now, though he hates to admit it.”

“Jem’s greedy?” Rilla said.

“Oh yes. He’s all sorts of vices. I’m sure Ken has his as well. You’d do well to find out which ones,” Mary said.

“To help him overcome them?” 

“To love him for them,” Mary said. 

[walnutofthedead]

Can you do Yandere Mikoto x Gn! Reader headcanons?

Hahaha hah djbdhddhhdhd

The ask I’ve been waiting for frfr….

I’m so normal about yanderes (they’re fun to write leave me alone)

So uhm I MAY go a wee bit overboard here??? And May or may not have ended up doing the yan alphabet?? This is for Mikoto and not his alter, if you want an orekoto one just lmk <3

Prob will do a shortfic later

Yandere shit under the cut

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

I see Mikoto as a physical affection type of guy tbh- Like, he’s still really sweet! Always nice with his words, but he’ll like randomly hug you from behind, hold your hand, a lot of things that most regular couples do. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Well… in terms of like, actual messes, he tries to be clean! Mikoto doesn’t particularly even want to hurt anybody. He’s not ALL bad…

With that said, sometimes, he has to. If someone is trying to steal you away and doesn’t heed his warnings, or if they hurt you, he has no choice but to put an end to that! 

If someone hurts you, he’ll be more brutal.. not above torturing them if they’ve gone that far. 

If it’s because he’s jealous, he’s a bit more nice. He doesn’t make it too painful. Maybe a blow to the head, a fast-acting poison… 

After all, he can’t blame them for falling for you just like he did! It’s impossible not to~

They just don’t get to take you away from him. Never. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Nono! He’s a sweetie:c Mikoto honestly would just treat you with genuine respect and love,, be like, he loves you! He knows he’s already done something awful by abducting you and is sympathetic. Prob tries to make it as comfortable as possible. 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Well… he’s definitely do a lot of hugging and stuff like that… but the furthest he’d go without (implied or direct) consent is just a peck on the lips<3

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

So here’s the thing- he’s delusional as fuck. He’ll just treat your relationship like he’d treat any regular one. He’s never invulnerable around you, but there’s definitely times he’s more vulnerable. Don’t hurt him please the silly:(

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

So confused and betrayed. You love him, so why are you fighting him? He only wants what’s best for you! 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He takes this shit so seriously- istfg bro hates it when you try and escape :((( kind of a pushover tbh- like he’ll probably just try and make it even more comfortable for you whenever you try to leave. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Being abducted is the worst it’ll get. Even while captive, he treats you with such care it’s baffling- he loves you!!!! Cmon pooks love him back ong

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

I feel like he daydreams about marrying them… like he has it all planned to a T. Probably already designed an outfit for s/o to wear at their wedding. We love a ✨ prepared ✨ mans 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets jealous and inhales lethal amounts of Copium. The poor silly

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Nah bro just acts like his normal self but like,, slightly more happy???   

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Just approaching regularly, he has no issue going up and talking to them! When confessions are involved though, he has a much harder time… probably would opt for a love letter. A long, well-written one with little doodles on it !!

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Lmao nope

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He kinda just.. wouldn’t..? If he got really pissed somehow, he might like, lock them in their room or something… but he avoids using violence when possible. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not many! When he abducts them, he’s strict at first, but eventually even lets them go out so long as he’s there with them. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He’s incredibly patient. He doesn’t get angry very easily, and when he does, he calms down fairly quick. This is assuming he doesn’t switch to Orekoto, of course…

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Haha no

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Oh, absolutely. He’d feel like actual shit about it. Even with all the gaslighting himself to try and justify it, he knows taking someone captive like this is awful. And especially for such selfish reasons… that’s why he tries making it up to them by spoiling them! 

He won’t let them go though. There’s no going back once you kidnap someone. 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Hm……. I’d say probably just emotional dependency and bad attachment issues. He just happened to get a bit too attached to s/o. 

-bonus hc: he gives his friends nicknames to make it feel like they have a deeper friendship than they do so they don’t drift away from him ! 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh, he hates it- just seeing them sad or afraid breaks his heart. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just tries his best to comfort them with words. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Give his darling some MOTHERFUCKING FREEDOM-

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His willingness to trust. As I mentioned earlier, he gives a lot of freedom, and that only increases as his trust in them builds. Once he’s convinced they do, in fact, love him, and won’t try and leave, he’ll begin letting them go out alone for short periods of time so long as they let him track their location. You can already see how that could turn out in an unsatisfactory way for him…

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Nope. Or at least, it would take a lot for him to lash out and do so. And even then, it wouldn’t be that bad. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He doesn’t really worship them per se… but he will totally go to extreme lengths to win them over. No amount of time or money or effort is too much if it means a chance at winning his darling over <3

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Depending on outside factors like other people pursuing them, it could be anywhere between a few months and a couple years. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Haha no. 

[squircatlies]

Today is the day I unleash my Mr. Bonzo fanart upon this webbed site.

This post is relatively safe up until the cut.

Is the *tips fedora* meme over a decade old? Yes. Do I care? No, absolutely not.

~

Now this is where I recommend "getting off" this post to anyone bothered by graphic depictions of body horror, blood, violence, or Mr. Bonzo (monster, not mascot like above).

I know the first image is silly, but I cannot stress enough how serious I am when I say:

Proceed at your own risk.

Now that you have chosen to continue, I have arranged the images in order of least to most vile and disturbing (though that might be slightly subjective on my part).

Remember that you can click off this post at any time.

Final warning: split tongue Bonzo.

I tried channeling Julia Drawfee with the lineart a little bit. Didn't feel like shading that one, so it's a bit flat.

Where did I lose my colours? Plot twist: the first image in this post is actually the last I've made, so technically I gained the colours. I wanted it to have more of a cheery vibe, unlike the ones under the cut, which I wanted to be kinda dreary and I feel like adding too much colour can mess that up.

Alright, I'll address the tongue. Remember how his head splits in tmagp 12? Yeah, it's a nod to that and also I asked myself "how do I make his design worse than it already is?" and that's the only answer I could come up with. I debated adding stitches connesting the two halves of the tongue but couldn't figure out how, so you're welcome. It will be present in all the upcoming drawings as well.

~

The next one is bloody, but it's not that much worse than the previous one overall.

I was playing with filters after I was done with this piece, because I felt like it lacked something, but didn't know what. Really liked this one, I think it's some sort of a gradient map. It pixelised the image and adjusted the colours a bit, it also really made the blood pop out, though it covered up some of the details.

Why did he lose his hat? It's stupid and hard to draw.

You may have noticed the artstyle change a little, the previous images having neat lineart and little to no shading. That's because I am using different tools, sketchy and soft brushes, that allow me to experiment with lighting and textures more (plus the aforementioned filter altering the image even further).

~

Alright, I feel like this last image deserves a separate warning. It references episode 12 (spoiler ahead), specifically the moment before the bartender loses a hand, though it's not entirely accurate. It's rendered in more detail than any of the previous images, so keep that in mind before scrolling down.

Basically it's pov: Bonzo licks your hand.

I feel like I could've made his tongue bigger in this one, it seems kinda small compared to his mouth. I really like how the skin on his face ended up looking. It took a lot of work.

The spit makes it look weirdly sexual, doesn't it? Listen, that was not my intention, but I'm not erasing it. I set out to make the worst thing I could and, though not without cost, I have achieved it.

I tried splattering Bonzo in blood, but it wasn't really working for me and it covered up a lot of the detail I liked, so I just put it in the background.

The human hand is drawn from reference, which I found by googling "hand reaching out away from the viewer". And let me tell you: google is shit at looking for drawing references, but I figured it was just going to be a sketch to explore an idea, so I didn't bother trying to get a better one. And then I fixated on it for a couple hours, you know, like a normal person.

I literally (and I mean no exaggeration) dusted off my drawing tablet after a few months of no use to spend the entire weekend, after tmagp 12 came out, glued to the screen making those images, except for the b'onzo one, which I made this evening.

Just to clarify: I drew all of those by myself. No filthy AI image generation is allowed in this house. I am capable of committing far greater sins than an artificial intelligence ever will.

The only thing left here is to extend my sincere congratulations/condolences to whoever got this far. It's up to you to either think you're brave or realise that you're foolish for doing so, but be comforted by the fact that at least you didn't make this post, which I cannot say for myself.

[therethatstar]

star. STAR. Hi. I hope you're doing wonderful. So I'm here to give love! I'm sorry if my love is a bit clumsy. So I've read "there you are, a fixed star in my mind" and I have a lot to say. First of all, i find it so fcking cute that you have titles that relate to the sky and stars and your word play is galaxies and the universe, because it correlates so well with your name and i don't know but i find it so lovely. It's just a little think I observed, and I couldn't not say it. Second, let me tell you these days I've had such a bad ache in my right shoulder (it's impeding me from everything, even writing, it sucks) and reading that Peem is struggling with it felt so cathartic surprisingly. Relating to him made my frustration w my shoulder recede a bit. Now - I think you write the shift of tension wonderfully. I truly adored how it altered from that physical, tense tension and then it went towards unresolved feelings that were embedded with another kind of tension, a particular one that fits the wall Peem put up between them. It felt languid, the shift of conflict - from their initial bickering that felt like a facade for what they were actually doing, to the actual focal argument (conflict) of the whole piece. Also let me be incoherent about PEEM NOT BEING ABLE TO STAND PHUM NOT LOOKING AT HIM, NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO HIM. It ached so good, star. I love characters who have something and then lose it and feel so incomplete without it that they lose it. Especially when it comes from another character like GOD FCK I'M Phum asking for a kiss and Peem going "you know we don't do that" (paraphrased) is just DJAFHSF it made me feel like I was the one falling between the cracks of Phum's feelings right there thank you very much. I just think it's just fcking wonderful, you know? How you kept their dynamic and incorporated it so flawlessly into a fwb situation. Not even friends if we take it as it is. Hooking-up situation. I just think it's really neat how you made me feel like It's Literally Them and you shoved me and them into a conflict different from canon and you still made me feel so raw reading them coming to a standpoint, and Peem finally giving in to what he's feeling so viscerally. When he started demanding (pleading) for Phum to kiss him because that's he wanted to do previously I just lost it. I lost the plot. I wanted to shove myself against all the walls in my house thank you. And maybe I'm just overthinking it but I just think- Just the whole thing with Phum trying his shot, going for a kiss and then retreating completely when Peem slams the wall in front of him. I just think that fits so fcking well with his character and the trauma he wears on his shoulders like a mantle. Maybe he felt like an inconvenience, maybe he saw that it was unwanted and that made him recall all the times he felt so and just, did what you do when you feel like that. You back off. I don't know if I'm reading too much into it, but it was a delight to read it all. Here is my absolutely, ultimate favorite line that you gifted us: "He has to die a lot just to live a little with him," - this made me also die a lot so i can comprehend the power of this line. Holy sht. AGAIN YOUR WORLD PLAY ABOUT STARS AND GALAXIES AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH The smut? Amazing, thank you. Thank you for the flavors, star.

cole you are not allowed to make me cry first thing in the morning. absolutely not! im going to put you in a timeout for making me feel this much as soon i open my fucking eyes. we’re not talking for the next 45 minutes!

i read this ask many times and i have just been sitting with it because really…. how does one respond to something like this ? and im not just saying it just to say it but i genuinely feel like i don’t deserve this ☹️

like it’s just a silly little fic. and as a fellow writer, maybe you’ll get me on this one. but whenever you write anything, there are certain aspects of it that you like a lot and you hope that the reader catches on those little details but in reality, you’ll be happy if they literally just read it. so to see you bringing up details, it puts so much values on this silly little fic and now im just like, i don’t deserve everything you’re throwing at me and it’s making me feel things and I DONT WANT TO FEEL THESE MANY THINGS ON THIS FINE SATURDAY MORNING ! like how am i supposed to go on with my day now ? you must take responsibility cole !

peem feels a lot for phum like ALOT. he has been feeling a lot for phum even before the whole hooking up thing and i really hope people were able to catch that, otherwise i didn’t make it obvious enough 😅. and i think he genuinely does not know how to deal with those feelings. and that leads him to being a little shit sometimes because he thinks that’s the only way to get phum to pay attention to him, by pissing him off. and then he gets so used to that attention because really, phum is ALWAYS looking at him. that is not at all an exaggeration. so the moment phum stops doing it, it was driving peem up the wall that he starts doing dumb shit just to get phum to pay attention to him. i enjoy writing peem in this dynamic a lot.

when writing peem yelling at phum to kiss him, i just had to write it exactly like that because peem is really just a little shit. he’ll never take the first move. he’s needy and he’ll never admit he’s needy. he will find a way to make it about phum who is needy. and phum KNOWS this about peem. so a lot of time he gives in, because it feels good to give in because he doesn’t mind letting peem have it. and i think peem is slowly coming around too because sometime phum is a little shit too. sometime phum will be like “oh you want a kiss ? well that’s too bad. you can always come and get it yourself tho.” and yeah it’s a give and take situations, peem and phum know each others’ bullshit pretty well so they always give as good as they get.

with that being said and to what you said about phum, i do think phum is the type to give in more often. this version of phum, he’s not too much in his head most of the time. he’s a pretty straight forward person and he lays all of his cards on the table for peem. so perhaps, when you’re the only always give in, rejection will taste different for sure because now he’s actually starting to question his place in peem’s life. and if peem can just stop being too much in his head for like 3 seconds, he’ll see how down bad phum is for him.

and im sorry to hear about your shoulder pookie ☹️ i hope that it will start to feel normal again soon 🙏🏻

one time, i came across someone who said, being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back but you still choose to stay anyways sure feels a lot like you’ll have to die a lot just to live a little with them. and that struck me ever since. so im glad it did a thing to you too.

again cole, thank you so much for this. im going to read this ask over and over again and im going to think about it for the rest of forever. i hope you are doing wonderful as well and im sending so much love right now i hope you’ll be able to receive all of them ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[murahel]

Fanfics Masterpost

Transformers Cyberverse Fanfics Ideas:

Soundwave survives the end of the show (even if only to not leave Shadow Striker alone to command Decepticons, come on we've got Hot Rod, Bumblebee and Windblade at the very least to replace Optimus but Shadow Striker has to deal with everything alone? Nah.): Hand Over The Relationship, Offish Decepticon! I'm this close to finishing the last chapter. There's an update on the 1st every month meanwhile to give me time to close that last chapter.

"Wherever Bumblebee goes on Cybertron, Cheetor, be with him." If Cyberverse doesn't give me Cheetor remembrance, then I will.

Bumblebee & Windblade friendship post-war (with sprinkles of Windblade's cityspeaker ability and her time in the Matrix of Leadership of the Other One). Maybe even Cheetor communicating with them from Primus' AllSpark.

Optimus' nightmare after using the Matrix against Starscream is a bit more than just a nightmare. Set with the idea of Optimus being (a reincarnation of) the Thirteenth, therefor a sibling of the Thirteen First Primes: Standing Among The Blue

Transformers EarthSpark Fanfics Ideas:

Brave Educational Experience: or when the Terrans shatter Bumblebee's worldview through a single question.

Shockwave & Wheeljack relationship, but still with their dynamic from in Cyberverse (dancing robots, Shockwave's invention liking Wheeljack (s2 ep10, Secret Science)). Also Wheeljack calls Shockwave out on his racism towards the Terrans/Twitch his daughter.

The ones I probably won't write:

Decepticons meeting up with Autobots at the border after defeating the Quintessons (too vague).

AU fix-it in which Starscream gets better (I just don't know his character enough).

The ones I said I wouldn't write but did in a way or another:

I've read a fic headcanoning Soundwave as a cityspeaker too, which I find interesting but don't think I'll write about it <- Hand Over The Relationship Offish Decepticon! (chapter 5 especially)

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

Other stuff I've written unrelated to Transformers medias: ⬇️

And The Sun Snuffed Itself Out So Icare Could Keep Flying: "In this world, Hawks doesn't lose his wings." MHA, canon-compliant up to the moment Hawks loses his alter to AFO. I've always felt like Endeavor/the Todoroki family owned him one after what Dabi does to him (also why the hell are people shipping Dabi and Hawks together wtf) and that with Endeavor's whole "redemption" thing he would at least try to protect Hawks more?? Maybe it's just me. Might get a sequel or follow up if I can work my mind around some plot.

Triangle Is The Strongest Shape: Monastario/Zorro/Lolita trouple. I know, I've got you, you'll have at least one fic with the three of them (it's silly tho). I honestly don't know how Monastorio's name is canonically spelled.

Oh Little Angel's Family: the one I keep forgetting. Supernatural, it's about family feels among the angels (especially the archangels and Castiel) and isn't canon-compliant in the slightest. I think it diverges from canon at s4, but honestly I don't care about that one enough to search back my notes about it. It has an attempt to plot in it, it has. Anyway it's written in french and Michael is called Michel in it.

Not home: an Outer Worlds game character-study(ish) fic about the Captain being an outsider. Do not be fooled by the english title, it's written in french.

Star Wars. I've written many a fic of Star Wars stuff starring the Codywan ship, some in french that haven't been translated since I switched to full english. I've still got unfinished drafts of more fics including them which will probably never be finished because I can't be bothered, and I don't post unfinished drafts (there's one exception to this and I won't elaborate on it).

Ideas of fics that haven't been written (yet):

A Baroness fic. From The Cat Returns Ghibli movie. In which she either gets reunited with Baron or has Toto and other birds travel letters between them.

A Saint Seiya The Lost Canvas time-travel fix-it fic centering on Shion, in which Zeus is actually responsible for the Holy War and the Aries cloth has time powers because of Chronos. Featuring being hunted as a traitor by his fellow Golds, soul wound, and Lady Persephone.

A Kuraerti fic (you know. the one yall keep calling Clerifa like it's a fucking Pokémon.) post-canon, a timeline what timeline, everyobody lives, setting: Gold Saucer. Featuring an Oblivious!Cloud, background Reno/Rude, Zack being around, Rufus and his dog learning to be a Good PersonTM under mentorship from Dio, the most adults members of the group acting like parents and a frustrated Barret.

A Brooklyn Nine-Nine fic in which Kevin's family is actually from the mafia. His parents don't talk to him anymore because he married a cop and the whole Seamus situation gets worse because that's a mafia family kidnapping somedoby from another mafia family. It is unclear if Holt is aware or not.

[solomons-poison]

Greedy

Keith Howell x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: uhhhh I suddenly had the urge to write a kind of silly little thing for mean!Keith after reading Keith's POV story from the amnesiac AU collection event. Keith's route isn't out in the EN server yet and my knowledge of him is limited to fan translations and what little EN server does have, so sorry if it's really OOC. I also didn't know how to end this RIP

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: bit of spoilers for Keith's character/route??; no pronouns but fem leaning reader, also focused on mean!Keith's POV; slightly suggestive; amnesia AU; just mean!Keith being kind of jealous and a tease :>

: ̗̀➛ Word count: 2039

Keith could be many things, perceived by the public in many different ways, all depending on the alter that was presenting. When nice!Keith was out, he could be considered timid and nice to a fault, often over-apologetic over the simplest things. But he was also incredibly kind, thoughtful, reliable, and sweet. Sometimes he was even considered akin to a knight, the way he seemed so honorable and righteous.

Alternatively, when mean!Keith was out, he was primarily ruthless, intimidating, maybe even a trickster. If something proved to be a threat or he needed something of value, he didn't hesitate to unleash the full inner beast until they were trembling before him, ready to give in. And especially if it was a threat to you, his lover? There were no arguments. He knew he could be manipulative and scheming when he wanted to be, but he argued he was just doing what was necessary, as much as you scolded him about it. 

He wasn't even sure where this aggression came from, to be honest with himself. He could only imagine it was related to his missing memory, and for now, that didn't matter to him. It was just second nature, this primal need to protect. He had nice!Keith to worry about, the softie's heart capable of shattering with one wrong move, he thought. Sometimes he even felt the man's heart was already shattered, just this inkling in the back of his mind, but he couldn't recall from what.

The townspeople grew to be wary of him because of these differences, even to the point of nice!Keith leaving scathing notes only for his eyes, begging him, pleading, to stop scaring people. But mean!Keith didn't care about that. 

Even if he hadn't regained his missing memories yet, that didn't matter to him right now. What mattered was that he had you to protect, as well. Partly as payback for you coming to his aid that one rainy night, helping him recuperate. But as time went on, he also grew to love you, the way you accepted his different personalities, opening your heart to not just one man, but two different men in the same body.

If he wasn't so pleased about winning you over, he'd maybe feel bad about that. He knew it wasn't easy loving even just one person, let alone two, but you handled it like a champ. And he knew that he was a handful at the best of times. But sometimes your acceptance of him just sparked his playful side and he wanted nothing more than to tease you, push your boundaries and see just how far that love and devotion extended.

Even more than that, he was simply greedy for you.

In the beginning, mean!Keith rarely came out. Nice!Keith was the one you met first, and the one you interacted with the most. His emergence mostly seemed to coincide with daylight hours, so you were often unaware of any change on the rare occasions you did interact with his alter. But as time went on, the switches seemed to happen more often, to the point that mean!Keith could spend almost a whole day with you before losing out. Once that started happening, you were quick to catch on that something wasn't quite right, and he finally opened up to you about the truth. From then on, he seemed to have about equal time with you as nice!Keith.

He hated that the most. Once he became used to your presence and your attention, he found himself seeking it out more and more, and he always wondered about the next time he'd resurface. He would never say it to your face, but he was fascinated by you. At first, he thought you were weak, easy to manipulate, fragile. But he found his gaze always drifting to you, memorizing the way your lips quirked up when you ate something delicious, or the giggle that came from you when you read a particularly funny line in your books. Your presence was simply addicting.

That's why, when he was out, he found himself gravitating towards you and holding onto you as much as possible. His neediness always made you laugh, and tonight was no exception as he slid his arms around your waist while you were reading on your bed, savoring the feel of your soft curves beneath his hands. He didn't even need to say anything, his demeanor spoke volumes about who you were interacting with now. That was just another thing he absolutely loved about you, even though he did think it took the spirit out of the game when he wanted to tease you or make you guess.

"I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” you said. You’d startled for a moment, but your brain quickly connected the dots on who you were with, and he felt you melt back into his embrace.

He pressed his lips to the back of your head, taking a breath to just enjoy the scent of your hair– a sweet, floral scent filled his nose, likely freshly washed– before moving your hair to the side to kiss your neck. You couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling.

“Why, you didn’t want to see me?” he teased, making sure to put a pout in his voice. However, as much as he liked to tease you, part of him did wonder, was actually worried about your response, not that he'd ever admit it to you.

Keith could feel you shake your head, trying to twist around in his hold but your efforts were in vain, his strong arms keeping you facing forward instead. “It’s just hard to know when I’ll see you next. But of course, I love seeing you, Keith. I love seeing every part of you.”

Your voice was soft, but he heard every word, and he felt a shock go through his heart.

Honestly, he didn’t know how you did it. The people in town knew how to deal with him now, but many of them that interacted with this side had come to fear him. Even now, despite learning he wasn’t really an immediate threat (for the most part), many of the townspeople were wary and kept their distance of him. But you… Not only had you accepted him into your home despite learning about his existence, you’d even grown to love him too.

At first, he couldn't help but be extra cautious about that. Experience with the other townspeople told him that you were faking, that you really did prefer his nice side. But time and time again, you proved his assumptions wrong, always catching him off guard and assuring him how you truly felt. It was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating.

His sudden silence as he ruminated obviously seemed to bother you, as you suddenly turned in his arms, his hold on you loosened after getting distracted.

"Keith? Is everything ok?" Your soft hands cupped his cheeks, earnest eyes seeking him out.

He could curse the way his heart flipped in his chest every time you said his name.

He did decently well pretending to be unaffected by your sweet voice, most days at least. But it was your eyes. Your eyes were always his biggest weakness, the way they looked into his soul, past all his jokes and teasing, how they managed to see just who you were dealing with that day. He couldn't hide from them.

"Of course. Do I seem bothered to you?" he joked, golden eyes narrowing teasingly. But your lips only tugged down into a worried frown.

He knew that look, it always came before you'd ask him a question that somehow always hit close to home, and as expected, he saw your mouth start to open, already forming your words. And although it was probably childish, he just wanted to have your attention for a little longer, rather than look too closely at the reason he felt this way. He knew his time was limited. So he tugged you into his lap, one arm still wrapped around you, and used his free hand to pull your head forward, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

You stiffened in surprise before relaxing against him, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in. Somewhere, distantly, you both heard your book slip off the furniture, forgotten about in this moment. This Keith's kisses always left you breathless, and now was no exception, barely giving you a moment to get your bearings before kissing you again. Whatever it was that you'd been thinking, had been tossed to the winds now.

Keith lowered you back down against your bed, his kisses moving from your lips, down your jaw, to the side of your neck. He could almost purr at the way you melted beneath him, compliant and moldable like the softest of clays. Perhaps that's why you fit him so well, because you could simply change form, fill in all his little cracks and crevices and make him whole. And he sought the way he could fill you too, give it all back to you and fill you fit to bursting. His body was already aching for it.

He brought his hands up to the top of your blouse as he continued his rain of kisses, deft fingers undoing the first few buttons before you can blink. But maybe that movement was enough to rouse you from what was happening, as your hand suddenly flew up to cover his mouth, stopping him in his tracks.

Keith pulled back to look at your trembling form, obviously dazed by his intense affections and trying to piece together a sentence. He knew what was coming but gave you a moment to regroup your scattered thoughts, letting your soft hand remain over his mouth.

"I don't know what's going on," you started, a little breathless, "but I can tell something is bothering you. I won't make you tell me if you're uncomfortable, but I hope you know you can always tell me anything."

You gave him a moment to speak. Keith reached up and gently removed your hand from his mouth, leaning forward to press an awkward kiss to your forehead.

"I know. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"Are you sure?" You could see the prior passion in his eyes had died down, replaced with a rare softness.

He grinned at you, quickly leaning forward to steal a kiss from your lips this time. "Yes, I'm sure. Now, will you let me continue?"

He could see in your expression that you weren't convinced, but luckily, you let the subject drop. You were always so patient with him, yet another thing he loved.

Your lips drooped down into a pout, then, looking off to the side of the bed where your book had fallen. "You know, I was in the middle of reading something."

He scoffed at that. "And? Are you telling me you'd rather do that instead? Or do you want me to keep going?" He slipped a single finger between the buttons on your blouse, tugging it gently, suggestively. He didn't miss the flare of desire in your eyes, and leaned forward, lips brushing against your ear to whisper, "If you really insist on reading, maybe we can play a game and see how long you can focus on your little book before you give in."

You couldn't help but shiver at that, his breath on your ear and enticing words sending sparks through your body. Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling his body close. "Hmmm," you hummed, pretending to consider his offer. "Is that a challenge?"

Keith's lips curled up into a seductive smile, yours responding in kind, and no more words were necessary as you leaned forward to meet in another passionate kiss.

Perhaps one day he'd come clean about his feelings, face them together with you. He knew you'd accept him regardless, show him he had nothing to fear so long as you were by his side. But he was in no rush for now, simply basking in your attention and happy enough to deliver back the very love you've gifted him all along.

Comments and reblogs appreciated ♡

[bohemian-nights]

Earthly Pleasures

Word Count: ~3,646

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Nettles

Warnings⚠️: None

Description: Doubt creeps in like a thief in the night swarming Nettles, but her prince is there to rescue her from this phantom foe.

AN: This one-shot takes place sometime during chapter 3 of To Every Season 🐑

“Please, just this once.” It sounded silly even to her own ears. So very silly as he gazed up at her that way. Like she had hung the stars and the moon to light up the midnight sky. The haze of adoration, but she could not help it. Not when she was in this state. With her mind fractured by woe. Earthly pleasures that awaited them put aside for vanity's sake. 

“Netty.” His voice. Oh Gods, his voice. It made it all the more ridiculous. That strained resonance thick with apprehension and something more, something which she knew all too well, the beast he held inside for her that wished to ravish, but he had done as she commanded. Moved his battle-scarred hands back to rest upon their bed. Dropping them from the hem of her linen nightgown with a heavy groan. The fabric fluttered down from where he had pulled it up to the apex of her growing belly to pool around where she sat perched upon his bare chest.                                                                         

It was the only thing that fit her these days. The only thing that did not make her feel like a stuffed pig. The waist of every single last of her dresses had to be let out. The ones that could be kept anyway. Somewhere far beyond altering which a needle and thread could provide to bother with.    

Stays which she had always loathed had become a thing of the last. there was no point in wearing them when she could hardly breathe with them on. The babe had drained most of her energy. She slept most of the day away. She could hardly go a few hours without exhausting herself. For fear of fainting, falling over, or being overwhelmed she could not keep on her feet for long. Even riding upon Sheepstealers back around their glen was thought to be ill-advised. 

Nettles was confined to finding whatever bit of entertainment she could in their little cottage to occupy her time which drove her to madness. The only exercise she was permitted was a short joint around her garden for a bit of fresh air. More than that, if she dared venture into the woods surrounding their cottage, or tried and coax Sheepstealer to take her into the open skies, she’d get an earful from a certain mother hen. Nearly eight moons into her pregnancy her condition remained delicate and she was treated like a thing of glass. 

It was not like she had not been through this before. Not like she hadn’t known what it was like to be in such a delicate state, but she was carrying two babes this time, and Daemon had not been with her the first. She could not help the shiver that ran down her spine causing her to shudder at the memories her thoughts provoked. That winter full of death. A lonely cold winter. That hadn’t escaped her prince's notice. Nothing ever did. At least not when it came to her. 

“There is nothing on this earth that could make me not want you little wife.” His rough pointer finger trailed her hem while he eyed the lacey border. Lazily admiring the stitching of violet and indigo wildflowers. Bess had done it for her. Her hands were not quite yet nimble for such patient work.

It was a simple thing. The stitching was the sole embroidery upon it. A thing for a maiden really. Certainly not for a woman grown with babes on the way though at that moment she felt as if she were one. 

Childish. It was all rather childish. Not being able to look her own husband in the eye. Instead, she took to biting her lip as she wrung her hands over and over. Needing something to do with them in her embarrassment. A calloused hand gently reached to pull her chin up. Taking the feature between his thumb and forefinger. That thumb wandered for a breath to trace over her plump lips before moving on to draw circles into the apple of her cheeks. Hypnotizing her. Nettles leaned into his spell.   

Lifting her head to take a peek at him. It was hard to resist his touch when he gazed up at her with that look upon his brow. That utter devotion. She craved it. Needed it now more than ever. He caught her gaze before she could turn away from him. A heady thing it was. He stared straight into her soul. It was too much. She could find no falsity in it. 

It was his eyes that undid her. The violet of his irises returned from the dark aubergine of arousal. His silver brow softened with concern as his fingers continued their petting. How could she think so cruelly of him when he looked at her like that? How could she not believe him after everything? Why must she be so frightened?

Nettles hardly recognized the pitiful sob that she let out until words poured from her full lips that she had not meant to speak. “I’m as big as a cow.” She had never been a vain woman. The scar marred her nose from a youth of deprivation which made her would never allow her to be so. She had never been described as particularly pretty. Though youth and the gifts from it had its charms. 

One would hardly turn down a girl no matter how common she was as long as she was young and pleasing enough, but that youth was fading from her with each passing day, and those charms were stretched and twisted within them to something which she could hardly recognize when she gazed upon herself. The sight of new lines that marked her belly and thighs greeted her in the still water of her bath. The perfect view of her reflection framed within the mirror that sat in the corner of their chambers as she lay in bed. Every last glimpse is a reminder of her state. 

It was at the sight of tears streaming down her brown face that Daemon lifted himself up so that they sat as equals. Taking her in his arms as he shushed her gently. Rocking her like a babe.  “You are not a cow.” He did not mock her. He looked pained by it all. Like he would do anything, say anything to end her suffering. He could do nothing to stop the dizzy spells that plagued her, but this he could relieve.  

Mayhaps it was that concern that made it worse. How was one to tell if it was placation or the truth? How could she when she could see herself so very clearly? 

“I am.” She would not hear it. Not a lie. Not now. Sweet words from a husband's amorous tongue were words all the same. They did little to placate her. No, they could not do that. Not when she had eyes and a mirror. Her reflection stated the truth plain enough for her to see. “Don’t lie.” 

“You are not a cow sweet girl.” He insisted once more. Pulling her hands away from her face to take it into his own. “You are with children. My children.” His children. Their children. She knew that. She knew what fate awaited her.  She’d birth them yes, but what after? It was always the after that caused her woe. 

“I won’t be your Netty.” She knew it was a silly thing to worry about. Especially when she felt so ill most days. Her survival was most important. Her babes survival, that they were both healthy and hale, that they did not suffer as their brother had, that should be her woe, but death was death. 

She’d never be the same Netty again. Not that young girl whom he fell in love with. The fresh-faced maiden with not a crown to her name. The girl who was so very determined. Utterly fearless. The girl who had claimed what she should not have been able to claim. Dragon and man alike. 

Common as she was she had captured the adoration and enmity of those above her. She had survived them all. Nearly all. That extraordinary girl. The girl which he came back for, crawled his way back from the seven hells to, she’d be a memory. A sweet one, but a memory all the same. 

This birth would be Netty's death even if she survived it. The maiden turned to the mother. What else would die with it? What was for her after that? What would happen to them? 

Daemon Targaryen was restless. He had always been so. He always had to have an occupation. He could not just be, he needed something to do. Something in which to prove himself. Something that could and was entirely his. The curse of a second son was a hard thing to shake. It had stuck around like her woe all these years. That want and need for more simmering behind those watchful eyes. What was to stop her from being a victim of it? 

With youths' bloom faded at last, the sweet maiden replaced with that of the dutiful mother, What would keep him here with her? He had grown restless before, with women who were more than she. What would keep him here?

Nettles had seen the way the girls who passed through the clan's lands looked at him.  The way they lifted their skirts, batted their eyes and lowered the neck of their dresses to show off their milky breasts when they caught sight of him. With his silver hair, bright violet eyes, and easy smile. 

Those smiles weren’t for them. Neither was the rest of him, for his smile only ever touched those bright eyes when she was beside him and his silver head rested on the pillow next to hers though it was underneath that head where she rested every night. She should find those girls' actions to be utterly ridiculous. She knew she should, but in her state, she could find no humor in it. Only a sinking cavern of dred that caused bile to form in it. 

Even among the pale faces of the Mountains of the Moon her prince stood out. His dragon was long gone and his sword was planted at the bottom of the Gods Eye with it, but he still carried that princely air about him. He was still the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen. 

He turned them away now, but what if he found her to be lacking? A mother's work was never done and she’d be theirs as much as his and there one else. Could he resent his own children? Could he share her even with them? 

Suppose she gave birth to what he never wanted. There was always that worry she tried tucking away in a cupboard that kept opening. Could he be displeased with what she gave him? What he had never expected? He’d look upon their little faces and not recognize himself in them. Would he resent her for it? Resent her for it all? He had her, he cared for her, but what if she no longer satisfied him? 

He could have any of them if he wanted to. What would stop him then when she was revealed to be an ordinary woman and not the image of a deity he had conjured up in his mind? What ifs played round and round. Doubt had always been her oldest friend. She’d always find it lurking around at every corner. In the shadows that occupied her mind waiting. Even now when she was in his arms at the seven heavens gates. 

“No, you will not.” His agreement startled her. The truth. He had told her the truth as much as she had wanted it; she did not wish to hear it come from his lips. Perhaps placation was the sweeter taste after all. 

Nettles jerked in his hold. Tried to pull away from him but he held fast onto her. He wouldn’t let her free herself from his embrace. Wouldn’t let her back away from him Wouldn’t let her back into herself. He forced her to look at him. To be with him. He had his own darkness and woe. It was not hard for a man like him to recognize it in his beloved. 

“And that’s all you’ll see me as.” Her voice turned to a whisper. Wide-eyed like a lamb on the butcher's block. Her fear the blade that grazed her neck. Looking for the vein that would send her to oblivion. 

 It frightened her. He was so overwhelmingly hers, so devoted to her that it frightened her. The thought of losing him, of losing everything they had found with one another against everything from fickle Gods and meddling mortals, it frightened her. So very much. 

“I will see you as you are. My wife and the mother of my children. That will never change.” He brought his head down to hers. She had not known his eyes could grow softer than they had, but they did. It looked as if he  Talking to her as if she were a coltish fawn. Taking her face between battle-worn palms that were as warm and aged as the fires of his homeland. Kissing away each tear that stained her cheeks between the declarations he murmured into her skin. 

“We all change Netty. You have seen me change by the season and yet I am still your prince. I will always be your prince.” He placed a final kiss on her forehead framed by a soft blanket of inky coils before pulling back to take her in. “I do not care how those seasons mark you, tis your spirit that I love that will always love. It is you who I wish to spend the rest of my days with. I'm yours and you are mine. No one,” he brought one hand to rub circles into the round stretch of brown skin covered by her gown. “Nothing can change that.”  

She was about to contradict him. About to tell him that his words while lovely meant little even if they were true to him, when she felt as if she were on the verge of loss. That sweetness would kill her just as well with the ghosts of the seasons whispering in her ear. The seeds of doubt embedded within her could not be vanquished with pretty words. It would never be so easy. 

Those doubts were more real to her than that loving look and she hated herself for it at that moment When she was at war with herself, but then the babe kicked. A kick that took her breath away. Then another. And another. Bordering on pain. Bordering on something she knew. Something that clawed at her and frightened her more than her petty woe.

Her hands scrambled to her belly. Clasping her hands under her husbands to cradle her babes within. Trying to calm them with a chorus of quiet hushed hymns. It was too early. Far too early. That dark winter catapulted to the vanguard of her mind. Dred sunk to the pit of her stomach. She looked up to meet those familiar violet irises, having nowhere else to turn to. For a moment it looked as though her prince's own heart had dropped to his belly. His pale eyes scanned frantically for the cause of her distress. 

Under their father's gaze, the babes gave out a thunderous round of kicks into her ribs that descended into flutters before the fearsome man laughed. He laughed. What a sound it was. Something had shifted in their chambers with that laugh. 

“You two are as stubborn as your mother.” That gaze would not leave her. It never did. His eyes crinkled in merriment. The deep lines upon his forehead faded with each hearty chortle. Another flit. This one as light as the grin that spread across their father's face as he threw her a smirk. “Our little ones agree with me.” 

Could she argue with him on that? She reasoned she very well could not. Oh how very silly she must look worrying over her own vanity when everything was as it were. She brought her hands from her belly to cup his face. It was her turn to take in the face which she loved. 

Nettles counted the freckles upon it and the faint age spots that dotted his cheeks. Making note of  He had changed as she had, but he was still here with her breathing the same air. She moved his heart. She’d liked to think it was for her. Time had made its mark upon him, but did she love him any less for it? 

Would she love him any less for it if time continued to make its marks upon him? She knew she would not. How doubt and woe spun its web. If she could give into it why not what was right in front of her? What was living and breathing underneath her? 

Warmth. He was so very warm. His skin. Bare. Pale. Solid. Marble come to life and yet it was warmer than the dim ember blaze which came from their chamber's fire. His touch a steady current of magma. The tips of his fingers had found their way back to her sleeveless arm. Taking to grazing the skin there with them. Up and down. Flesh upon flesh. It sent a quiver up her spine that traveled to a heat she had forgotten. Goosebumps erupted across her brown skin.

His gaze, his gaze that never left her. The heat coming off of that gaze seeped into every pour of her. Pierced straight through. As if he could light her a fire with one single glance. Mayhaps he could, but she did not mind it, quite the opposite she relished in it. 

That stare had turned dark again. Luring. The black pit of his pupils overtook the color that made up his irises. That gaze. What would she see if she saw herself through those violet orbs? Who would she see staring back at her? 

That thought was answered when his touch came again. The hand that had caressed her arm had made its slow descent to her hips. Drawing her closer as it snaked underneath her hem once more while its twin cradled her face. Both drew absentminded circles into the bare skin of her hip and cheek. This time Nettles did not utter a single syllable in protest. That touch on her hip drew attention to a predicament further south. What had remained undisturbed for far too long betwixt her thighs. Neglected for woe. 

She had become all too aware of her state and his. He was bare and she was not. Not fully anyway. Her gown shielded her modesty. The little that remained of it, but if that hand rested upon her hip were to take hold of her hem once more if it were to pull the fabric up her voluptuous frame and make one simple tug over her head, or mayhaps tear the fabric in two, she would be as naked as her name day. Exposing the expanse of the curves of her brown skin for his eyes to feast upon. 

A feast he had been starving for if the length of him which she sat atop was anything to go by. The rather stiff length of him which at the feel of her heat on its velvety girth made its want known for her with a twitch. A small trail of pearly cum from his member painted her inner thighs. 

Had he remained in that state this whole time? With that throbbing need? Surely he could not have been, but the way in which he would never let her go, the way in which he always had to have his hand on her arm, her cheek, her hips, had he? 

Had she truly ignored her husband's desires, her husband's want, for her own woe?  Her own vanity. Had she let it blind her into imagining things that did not matter when all he had to do was look at her? Forgetting what bliss awaited them from his touch. Forgetting that the whole world could crumble and wouldn’t. Not when they had this to see them into oblivion.

 He had been waiting and she had been fretting for naught. A quick remedy it would be. 

Nettles took the hem of her damned gown in between her own slender hands. Pulling it up over her head with a  fling of her wrist. It messed her coily mane of midnight ringlets, which until then had managed the day bravely, but the state of her hair mattered not. 

Her gown had not hit the floor before he had her underneath him. Taking away her breath with a flutter that radiated from her core through her. A wonderful riot of butterflies made her cheeks heat up with the rest of her. 

If she had not been ready the newfound slick leaking from her cunny had certainly made her so. Mayhaps she ought to be ashamed at just how ready she was, but it was hard to be with the pad of her husband’s thumb tracing her lips and the pair of eyes belonging to that man which were dearer to her than any other looking at her as if she were his last supper. 

“I do not believe I could do that to a cow.” Nettles shuddered with an inhale and her prince caught it with a kiss. Life breathed into her soul. 

There was no more need for words spoken from lovers' lips. A lover's kiss, a lover's gentle caress, and the warmth of his bare body melding into hers were enough. For a time doubt and woe were put aside for earthly pleasure.   

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