#her writing has me exploding in my cage

[adinfernumadinfinitum]

Name One Writer In Your Fandom You Like & Tell Them Why (and send them this ask).

Oh, then I’ll have to choose my most recent obsession: @emmg’s writing, with Mirrors being a particular favorite.

I fell in love with her work for its effortlessly readable sentence structure, masterful word choice, and phrasing, as well as her ability to weave prose so naturally that it transforms into a beautiful masterpiece.

It’s not just her style, of course; what she writes is captivating, sensual, and emotionally intense, often leaving me staring at the ceiling, reflecting on it for a good while (in the best way, I promise you).

I tried to behave like a normal person for once, so this is expressed as normally and eloquently as I could manage

[cece693]

Might just as well call me a Hannibal Lecter fanfic creator at this point. Like damn, I can't stop writing about him, but at the same time I don't feel bad about it 'cause he's so damn complex. Like, he totally is a monster and has done despicable things (just ask his victims and Will), but Hannibal also shows vulnerability and human traits that don't make him unredeemable in my eyes. Anyway, I always loved this idea of Hannibal feeling caged and declawed when he's content with a significant other. So, he lashes out because he never truly let himself adopt another routine (other than murder.) Just Hannibal dealing with emotions not so well. Hope you enjoy it!

Caged Appetite

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader tags: hannibal loses control, he feels like a caged animal, you've been together for years, you aren't a murderer but is aware of what hannibal is/does, physical violence, hannibal is sorry but doesn't say it when it matters, it'll make sense later on, OPEN ENDED ON PURPOSE

You wake to the sound of rain thrumming against the tall windows of the Baltimore townhouse, the fragrance of dark‑roast coffee already drifting through the air. Hannibal has risen before you, as he always does, precise and elegant in his morning ritual. You pad barefoot across Persian rugs, drawn by the promise of warmth, and find him at the stove—silk robe cinched at the waist, sleeves folded back with surgical neatness.

He smiles when you enter, a soft curve of lips that only you are permitted to witness. “Good morning, caro mio.” His accent lingers over the words like a bow across cello strings. He pours two cups, passes one to you, and the two of you share a companionable silence broken only by the ticking of the antique clock.

This is the life you have built together: evenings at the opera where you sit shoulder‑to‑shoulder in plush crimson seats; intimate dinner parties where Hannibal dazzles with gastronomic miracles and you temper his darker impulses with your steady presence; nights spent on the balcony, sipping wine while the city hums below. It is a life of cultivated beauty, and you have become the final arbiter of his appetite.

Months ago, after discovering the truth behind his refined veneer, you struck a bargain that astonished you both: Hannibal would not kill without consulting you first. You framed it as a necessity for survival—his and yours. He accepted, almost eagerly, as if your command tethered him more securely to you. Yet the leash has grown taut.

Weeks pass.

Hannibal grows restless, stalking the study like a caged panther, fingers drumming against mahogany.

He starts to question your judgments—why should this corrupt banker live? Why spare that cruel surgeon? Each time, you meet his arguments with calm logic, and each time he submits, but resentment smolders in his dark eyes. And that resentment doesn't take long to make itself known. It begins innocently: an argument over a guest list for Saturday’s soirée. You veto a name—Dr. Jeremy Larkin, an anesthesiologist whose negligence cost a child her life. Hannibal’s nostrils flare. “He deserves to be culled.”

“Justice can be served without murder.” you reply, setting your glass down.

Hannibal’s voice is low, dangerous. “You mistake convenience for justice.”

“You promised,” you remind him. “No blood unless we agree.”

You see the moment the leash snaps: a flicker of something feral, the way a caged tiger stops pacing and decides. The antique candelabrum arcs through the air, candles exploding like comets against the wall. Wax spatters your cheek, scalding. “Hannibal—”

“Enough! I have allowed you to shackle me,” he snarls. “Like some pitiable beast trained to sit and beg.” The sudden violence of his voice shakes you. He seizes the edge of the dining table, flipping plates to the floor where they burst like white flowers. You step back, heart pounding.

He turns on you, eyes molten with rage. “You have trimmed my claws, dulled my teeth. You—” His words die as he grabs your wrist with terrible force—a flash of agony that radiates up to your shoulder, making you stagger backward, nearly tripping on the shards of broken plates. “Is this what you wanted? To domesticate me? To press a collar around my throat and pretend I’m safe?”

Your head spins. The adrenaline surges, heart punching at your ribcage. “I never asked you to stop being who you are,” you manage through gritted teeth. “I just asked—”

“For rationality?” he interrupts, a harsh bark of laughter cutting you off. “I am beyond rationality.”

When Hannibal's other hand comes up, you don’t flinch fast enough. The back of his palm connects with your cheek. It isn’t just a slap; there’s enough force behind it to send you sprawling. Your vision blurs for a heart-stopping moment. A hot, metallic taste floods your mouth, and you realize you’ve bitten the inside of your cheek—maybe split your lip. Blood drips onto your chin, bright and shocking.

Hannibal seems momentarily stunned by what he’s done. You see it flicker in his eyes: that old, precise conscience that used to rein in the worst of him. But it’s smothered by the hurricane of his rage, and he steels himself with a sharp breath. Crouching down, he seizes a shard of Baccarat crystal from the carpet, and turns it in his fingers until blood beads along his palm.

“I have given you concerts, constellations, continents. In return, you give me chains. Shall I show you what real captivity feels like?”

The threat hangs between you, suffocating. He steps forward; you retreat until your back meets the grand piano. His free hand snakes out, catching your jaw with bruising force. The crystal shard hovers at your throat, cold and trembling.

“Breathe,” Hannibal murmurs. “Feel how fragile the carotid is beneath a lover’s thumb. One gesture—” The shard presses just enough to sting. A bead of blood blossoms.

Terror floods you, but anger surges with it. “Do it,” you whisper. “Prove you’re nothing more than an animal that devours whatever refuses to kneel.”

For a heartbeat, you believe he will but then the shard falls. Hannibal’s face contorts—rage, horror, something like despair. He shoves away from you so violently the piano bench skitters across the floor.

“You corrupt even my fury,” he spits. “I can’t even kill you without hearing your conscience in my skull.”

He whirls, fists pounding the piano lid again and again until the lacquer spider‑webs and the hammers inside clamor discordantly. When the last blow lands, his knuckles are raw, breathing ragged. “You’ve ruined me,” Hannibal says, voice barely audible. “And I—stupidly—I let you.”

You press a shaking hand to your neck, feel the shallow cut, the hot pulse beneath. “You let me love you,” you correct, tears blurring the ruined room. “And I believed you loved me back—but is a monster like yourself even capable of such a thing?"

The last thread snaps when Hannibal’s voice drops to a glacial whisper—too quiet for fury, too precise for accident. “You mistake tolerance for love. If you need me muzzled to feel safe, then your devotion was never to me—only to the version you hoped to domesticate.”

The words strike harder than his fists ever could. You feel something inside you splinter, slow and final, like a mast giving way in a storm. There will be no repair tonight, perhaps ever. Your throat tightens around a thousand replies that die unspoken; explanation feels pointless when the accusation has already gutted you.

You move without another word. Upstairs, your hands move with eerie calm as you unzip the small leather overnight bag—the one you once packed for impromptu weekends on the Amalfi coast. Sweaters, passport, the paperback Goethe you keep on the nightstand, phone charger, toiletries—muscle memory does the work while your mind drifts somewhere numb and echoing. You leave the cuff links he gifted you, the cashmere coat he draped over your shoulders last Christmas, anything that feels like it still belongs to us.

When you descend, Hannibal stands where you left him, amid the ruin of shattered china and wine‑dark stains. His shoulders are rigid, but his expression is unreadable—an immaculate mask reforged in seconds. Only his eyes betray the turbulence beneath.

The bag in your fist speaks louder than words. He watches it, then you. Something flickers—alarm, perhaps—but pride keeps his posture tall. “You’re running,” he observes, soft as falling ash.

“No,” you answer, voice flat. “I’m leaving.” You grip the doorknob. “And I don’t know if I’m coming back.”

For a heartbeat he looks stricken, as if the room tilts under his feet. Then the mask sets harder. “Take your conscience with you,” he says, almost tender. “It has never suited this house.”

The cruelty is exquisite, precise, undeniably deliberate. It makes the decision effortless. You open the door, step into the cold night, and let it close behind you with a muted click that sounds like the end of a symphony’s final chord.

Hours later, the house lies in dreadful silence. Broken glass gleams among overturned plates and splintered wood. The piano’s fractured lacquer reflects the scarlet smear of his own blood. Hannibal stands amid the ruin, shoulders rigid as he stares at the door you walked through. He waits for you to return (you just have to), not knowing if he wants to beg your forgiveness or sink his teeth deeper into the wound he’s created in both of you. Anguish tears at him like an animal in a steel trap, too proud to whimper, too furious to release itself. With no one to witness, he finally allows himself the slightest tremble in his hands.

The restraint you braided round him disintegrates.

Three nights later, Jeremy Larkin is found in his penthouse, organs arranged into a weeping angel. The tabloids christen the tableau “The Doctor’s Apotheosis.” Hannibal watches the news report with dead eyes, tasting ashes.

It brings no relief. Each murder is a scream into a void where your answer never comes. He leaves calling‑card bouquets—white lilies flecked with red paint—on the steps of his tableaus, hoping you’ll understand the morbid semaphore: Come home, come home, come home.

You spend the first night in a rented cottage outside of Baltimore, living on broth and codeine, tending to the injuries Hannibal left behind. Luckily, none would leave scars, yet the same couldn't be said emotionally.

You ignore the news. You turn off your phone when unknown numbers flash the screen. At night the tree branches hit one another, echoing the crash of that candelabrum. You wake screaming, palm pressed to your neck. But grief is a patient tutor. You learn to breathe without tasting fear. You walk the forest, let dirt scour the bruises yellow. You begin, slowly, to plan a future without him.

Fifty‑nine days after you fled, you open your apartment door to find a single lily on the step, the petals bruised by rain. No card. You know who left it; you know what it means. Your hands shake—not with fear, but with anger that still burns hot.

That night you write a letter:

Hannibal, The bouquets you leave on morgue slabs are not apologies; they are sermons to yourself. You mistake artistry for remorse, believing that if I see the symmetry of a body you have emptied, I will remember the elegance inside you and forget the brutality that carved it out. I don’t need another corpse arranged like contrition on a plinth. I need you to look at what you have done to the living—to me—without an audience, without blood to distract you, without the comfort of calling murder a gift. I have never asked you to be harmless. I know the shape of your darkness too well to pretend it could ever be dissolved. All I wanted—perhaps foolishly—was for that darkness to spare the one who loved you. Instead it raised its hand and taught me how sharp your devotion can become when it thinks itself caged. If you truly wish to reach me, send no more bodies. Send words you have bled from that iron heart. Words that do not ornament your violence but own it, strip it bare, confess its cowardice. Show me you can kneel to the wreckage you caused without trying to turn it into marble. Until then, every silent headline, every month without a vanished soul, will count louder than a thousand grandiose tableaux. Let your apology breathe untainted air for once. Then, and only then, will I decide whether the part of me that still loves you can risk a return.

[matchadobo]

Hello! Is it possible to request Kid X Reader where the Reader is a virgin and Kid is loving and soft with her? I love soft Kid and how you write Kid in general. Thank you!

KIDD; soft and loving kidd

warning/s: nsfw under the cut, afab reader, has sfw (a bit suggestive bUT ONLY A BIT REALLY LIKE 2%) and nsfw hcs, might melt your heart, the red fonts indicate that it is under the previous bullet

SFW

kidd was your first kiss, first love, and first partner

ahh first kiss with kidd, it would be comical. let's just say, kidd would have had ENOUGH of your cuteness and he'd just march in your room while you were doing your hobbies. he would be so fucking red. you asked him if he was drunk and he said yes.

"i'm fucking obsessed with you." he'd say before going on a rant on how pretty your eyes are, how your touch feels like an absolute wildfire, how your smile is too contagious he loses his cool, how your voice is too pleasant to his ears you could talk about total fucking nonsense and he'd still swoon, and how you always look at him with the same love in your eyes

you were so fucking shocked you started crying

he'd just stand there, like a lamp post, while waiting for you to catch your breath and pick up your jaw

"c-can i kiss you? i'll kiss you." kidd waltzed towards you, bending down to your height, lifting your chin and colliding his lips with yours

his lips was soft and tasted sweet, must be lipstick. the rum made it bitter

once he feels you melt into the kiss, he'd smile through it before angling his face on the other side to kiss you better. he figured you didn't know how to kiss 😖

"you go like this, name." he angled his face one more to the other side, puckering up his lips before sucking on your lower lip. "don't freeze like goddamn ice, okay?" he snorted. "move your lips. kiss me. suck it. follow my rhythm." with each phrase, his actions mimicked his words. you were on fucking fire.

it was a pretty long kiss. you soon got the hang of it. once you two pulled away to catch your breath, kidd's heart almost exploded when he saw how swollen your lips are and how flushed your cheeks were. what a fucking darling you are

it would be absurd to think that someone like you would end up with someone like him. a thorn like him with a rose like you

he'd always have a scowl in his face but when he sees you, it loosens up a bit. he turns into a blushing mess at the littles things you do

since he was your first relationship, you were really navigating the boundaries and hows of it. it also took a lot of patience since, well, it was kidd

he wasn't used to having you follow him around all day but he loves it

you weren't used to having him behind you, arms by your side as he caged you. when he feels you up, humming in your ear, and his cologne drives you nuts

he wasn't used to your habits to sit on his lap without warning

you weren't used to have his arm protectively around you at all times

he wasn't used to your kisses on his face, he started getting conscious if he smells good or if his face was clean

you weren't used to having this big bear that clung onto you, keeping your bed warm

he wasn't used to waking up next to you, seeing you with your guard completely down around him

you weren't used to seeing kidd all vulnerable and wasn't scowling, instead letting you witness what he was under all that cold exterior that you warmed up

he wasn't used to feeling all this fuzzy and warm on the inside even if you weren't even here, he constantly yearns for you

you weren't used to dealing with kidd in his snotty attitude, it took a lot to be understanding but kidd also did his best when he saw you struggling. that was a challenge for him too

"come here, bug. gimme a hug."

"got you a new dress, come on i wanna see you wear it."

"you want it? i'll steal it for ya." then he proceeds to use his df to the stores to leave no trace

when kidd was courting you, yes he learned how to court 🥺, he will always bring you tiny flower trinkets. on special days he'd have really intricate jewelery that had flowers or butterflies. he'd earnestly find you and give it to you, insisting that you receive it personally 😖

when you were on your period, he'd tiptoe in taking care of you 🥺. he'd be met by your snappy attitude to which he would usually fight back but would later surrender for your well-being. man, a flower like you taught kidd to surrender 🥰. he'd have chocolate and sweets. if your cramps are really bad, he'll help you fall asleep to numb it away

"here, have some chocolates. snappin' at me would get you nowhere."

"as if i'd be goin' anywhere when you're sleepin'. you're clunging onto me like crazy."

"bought you pads and tampons, quit fuckin' whinin' and just hug me."

when cuddling, he always reaches under your shirt to rub your stomach. his cold hands felt good in your warm tummy. soon enough he'd be reaching over your mounds or somewhere down there 👀

when he kisses you he always wants to have a long, deep kiss before pulling away. he'd wanna have a goodbye forehead kiss when you two part ways and went on back to what you were both doing individually

kidd would LOVE and NEED to spoil you. making you trinkets, buying you stuff, and doing things with you even if he puts on a facade that he doesn't wanna be there. he just loves seeing the joy in your face!

NSFW

oh boy is he starving for you

but he'd patiently wait until you're ready

and when you are, this animal would be unforgiving

he'd go hard on the foreplay, playing with your tits under your shirt as he thrives on the little moans and whimpers you make. he'd overstimulate you so much you'd be too tired for the actual deed

but don't get me wrong he won't be rough, he'll just be doing A LOT of stimulation

he'd kiss you a lot during your first time, periodically checking if you're feeling okay. it'll be sloppy kisses tho, always have saliva trailing down your skin with lip marks

"sure you can handle it, flower?" a mix of genuine concern and teasing

it'd be missionary. as much as he REVERES reverse cowgirl so he has a full view of that cake, he'd want your first to be special. he'd want your first to be completely skin on skin with him, maintaining eye contact as he slides it in, kissing while moving, and holding hands so you'd have something to squeeze onto. he'd press foreheads with you, easing your knitted brows as you try and take him all in, clenching along the way

as aforementioned, he wouldn't have much trouble in sliding himself in despite his size because of the amount of foreplay he did on you

"aren't you a pretty fuckin' sight like this, aye?"

"so well, so fuckin' good, my love."

"you're close? enjoyed yourself too much, aye?"

he'd stay forehead-to-forehead with you, exchanging breaths as you both released in each other. he'd mumble a low "fuck," as you did a last clench around him with your release when you were desperately clawing at his neck and back with the ecstacy. "went a little wild there, princess." he'd kiss your cheek, tucking the hair sticking on your face behind your ear. he'll gently throw you over his shoulder, so as to not hurt your cunt by stretching it more on a bridal carry, and bring you to the bath to wash up with you

helllooo thank you for requesting 🌷 this was soooo fun to make i really miss my boy 😍 thank you for the support anon 🥺

[whoisneo404]

Can you write about either nick with his bfs younger sibling or the other way around and it’s super fluffy, and they just look at each other like aghhh! Idk if that makes sense

Sisters’ best friend.

Summary: in which Nick has a little crush on you and you have a little crush on him but both of you are unaware of it.

Note: Nick is mentioned to be taller.

“Why did you buy all of this?” I ask my sister while looking at the chocolates, drinks and chips on the kitchen counter. “Are you having friends over?”

“Yeah, I’m having a sleepover with some friend. I told mom to tell you.” She talks while texting someone on her phone.

“Oh, cool. She didn’t told me anything, who’s coming anyway?” I look at her, I don’t raise my head, just my eyes. She looks up from her phone.

“The people that always comes, you can have all the snacks you want, just don’t bother us a lot.” I pout and nod.

“Understood.” I grab a small pack of gummies and go to my room. It has been a while, it’s night already, I hear people talking and laughing on the living room, my sister has a lot of ‘girlfriends’, of course she also has a lot of guy friends but they don’t come to the sleepovers… except for one, Nick. Nicolas is fun, I like him, he is very kind to me and I really like his style. I hear his laugh, it’s loud and it makes my cheeks grow red, I’m so dumb but I can’t help it, he’s just so handsome and has pretty eyes, he also brings snacks for me sometimes so I kinda like him. The fact that I know he is gay doesn’t help, because I think I might have a tiny chance with him.

I sit on my bed scrolling on my phone and panic texting my friends that Nick is here and that I might die if I see him. So, I wait for the noise to come down, I hear them go into my sisters’ room at around 12:40, I go out to see if they left any snacks and to grab some water. As I walk past my sisters’ room, I can hear the muffled music and their gossiping, I roll my eyes and keep walking to the kitchen, it was dark and a bit cold. I turn on the lights and go to the fridge, I smile when I see my favorite chocolate right in front of me, I take it out and turn around smiling at myself.

“I see you found my gift.” Nick is standing in the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, his hair a bit messy and with his pajamas on. I gulp and my cheeks blush a bit.

“I didn’t knew you bought it, thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” He says and walks over to me. “So, how have you been?” he leans on the counter and watches as I fill my bottle with water.

“I’m fine, hm, how about you?”

“I have been good, thanks for asking. Why weren’t you with us while watching the movie?” I turn around and put my filled bottle water on the counter right besides the chocolate.

“Well, I, I don’t know. I didn’t feel like it.” He hums, and I look away from him. Suddenly I feel small, his taller body making me feel tiny, his crossed arms showing off his big arms and broad shoulders. I try not to stare too much, key word = TRY.

“Interesting, you used to love watching movies with us. You love horror movies, don’t you?” I nod. “Well, at least you love curling up to me.” he grins and my eyes widen a bit.

“No, I-“ he talks over me.

“It’s okay, I like it.”

“Oh… cool. I don’t know what to say.” Nick unfolds his arms and walks slowly to me; I start taking tiny steps backwards until my lower back hits the counter. “Nick.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?” he leans down a bit, one of his hands besides my body to cage me in, his other hand on my cheek.

“Nothing, just looking at you.” The tip of his nose lightly touches mine. “I really like your shirt, is it the one I gave you and your birthday?” he laughs a bit and I feel my cheeks burn.

“Nick, what if someone comes looking for you?” my chest feels heavy, my heart is beating fast.

“Let them.” he leans in, his soft lips touch mine for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, was that all right?”

My brain exploded, I can’t imagine how red I am right now, I nod quickly and put both of my hands on his chest. “Yes. I- Can you… please, kiss me again.’’ I see him grin, he kisses me again, this time it was longer, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and play with his hair, the hand that was previously on the counter goes to my waist. His lips move slowly and gracefully, it would be a lie if I said I know how to kiss, I am trying my best. I lean back a bit, looking up at his eyes.

“I wanted to tell you something.” He whispers. “I-“

“NICK!! COME HERE, CARLIE IS GOING TO CALL JAMES!!” Nick rolls his eyes when we hear the loud voice of my sister come down the hall.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. But, how about we go out tomorrow? Just the two of us.’’

“Like, a date?” it’s the first time I see him blush. He looks so handsome with his cheeks turning pink.

“Yeah, like a date. Sorry I have to go, I’ll text you” He gives me a quick kiss and fast walks to my sisters room, when I hear the door close, I let out a high-pitched scream and cover my face. God, what the fuck just happened? I think I’m dreaming.

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

[sweet-s0rr0w]

⭐️🎄 Merry Christmas and happy holidays! 🎄⭐️

How do you think drarry celebrate the winter season? ♥️

Ah, Merry Christmas to you too, and thank you for the ask, which really made me smile :) I came up with about a dozen different replies, then thought the most fun way to answer would be to have a think about some of the Drarrys from my fics, and what they'd be doing over the festive period!

Drarry from Nor All That Glisters spend Christmas in Europe, or possibly up in Durham seeing Lee, who's off at uni doing Chemistry. Sometimes Harry has to work, and Draco spends a few days at the Manor, helping his mum with cutting back the Shrivelfigs, and renewing all her anti-frost charms. They'll get to the Burrow at some point, though probably on one of the quieter days; the holiday season's not the easiest for Draco, and though he'd never say it (and it's probably in his head - the Felix negative after-effects should be long worn off by now ofc), he still sometimes feels a little out of place amongst Harry's closest friends. Harry though, Draco never doubts.

Kept in Cages Drarry are in Kenya, of course, and it's Erumpent mating season, so there's plenty of work to be done keeping the local Muggles from being accidentally trampled/exploded, and fending off poachers, and not much time for festivities. I expect they do manage to do a Christmas lunch of a sort, though, with Christmas music, and probably some crackers that Ron's sent over (the kind that go bang, for the non-Brits), and green beans rather than Brussels Sprouts.

Among the Elements Drarry are definitely at the Burrow, where Scorpius is thoroughly spoiled by Molly and Narcissa both. Scorp's doing brilliantly; at three years old he's still a little dot, but bright as a button, and knows exactly how to get his way. Ron and Hermione are expecting their first now, and Draco can't help feeling nervous at the sight of her barely-visible bump, thinking about everything that happened. He doesn't say anything to Harry, who he knows is one day hoping for a sibling for Scorp, but he's not quite sure yet if that worry will ever go away.

And Waking Up Slow Drarry are at Narcissa's of course, for their three hundred and something-th Christmas dinner of the year! They try to make the real one a little more special, which usually means that Harry does end up dancing; he's getting pretty good at it now, if he does say so himself! Draco's shop reopens between Boxing Day and New Year (there's a little trade from the tourists visiting Bath over Christmas), and then they'll be locking up (and set some surreptitious warding spells) and heading off by Portkey for some sun and a well-deserved rest. They're friends with a few magical families in the local area now, and they'll all take turns to go see Narcissa while Drarry are away.

This was so much fun I cannot! Thank you so much!

Me, I've had a manic Christmas hosting many people and ferrying my children hither and thither, and staring longingly at all the brilliant works that are appearing in my ao3 inbox. I'm looking forward to finally sitting down and catching up on: soft by @garagepaperback, Falter by @skeptiquex, Better not pout by @maesterchill, The Chosen Bun by @hoko-onchi-writes... and finishing off my Christmas re-read of O Come, All Ye Faithful by @toomuchplor!

I'm actually going to tag a few friends to see if they're interested in doing this too: @tackytigerfic, @epitomereally, @fluxweeed, @citrusses, @the-starryknight, @wolfpants, @lqtraintracks, @oknowkiss (plus all tagged above ofc, and anyone else who fancies!!) - any updates from any of your Drarrys, and what they might be up to this holiday time?

[daisyswift3]

UMM so cruel summer and a lot of other songs are making a lotttt more sense now that I’ve realized the “devil” that Taylor keeps referring to is actually the music industry as a whole thanks to @keepingsecretstokeepyoutk (see this post). “He looks up grinning like a devil” // “I would’ve stayed on my knees and I damn sure never would’ve danced w the devil AT 19” // “Dear reader if you aim at the devil make sure you don’t miss.” Do you remember the Top Global Artist vid that spotify released that had cruel summer as the background song and had a bunch of cruel summer references? Yeah go back and watch that again w this context in mind 😃 Taylor (the angel) has had enough of the games and is gonna end them once and for all which is very Katniss Everdeen of her—hello the archer 🏹 if any of you have read or watched the hunger games you know how the story ends

And you'll also remember that Katniss escapes the games twice by cheating--the first time w poison berries and the second time by destroying the arena itself (which was a clock) WITH itself using a lightning strike current at midnight that shot thru her arrow -> "And there was one prize I'd cheat to win." Not to mention Katniss was the mockingjay, a symbol of rebellion and resistance. And the fire symbolism in this trilogy was meant to represent how that rebellion can spread from a spark of hope. Snow lands on top but fire melts snow. Taylor is a huge hunger games fan so I wouldn't be surprised at all if these parallels were intentional. Also I'm not the first one to notice the hunger games connections, I saw some other gaylors point this out so I can't take full credit for that

“You play stupid games you win stupid prizes” // “Devils roll the dice” // "Baby let the games begin" // The scrabble instagram post // The mastermind chess board // "You see all the wisest women had to do it this way, cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover's game" // "No more keeping score now I just keep you warm. No more tug of war now I just know there's more"

I think it's possible Taylor knew that her masters were gonna be sold hence all the game imagery and songs abt heartbreak on lover

She's literally gonna take down the industry as a whole and expose everything. This is the reason for all the cryptic messages and meticulous planning. AND THIS IS WHAT THE ALBATROSS IS ABT TOO. “She’s the albatross she is here to destroy you.” They tried to keep her locked away in cages and towers and closets and tried taming her and pulling out her teeth but it didn’t work

“Devils that you know raise worse hell than a stranger” SHE’S the devil now and she’s abt to make their lives a living hell

“She’s the death you chose” i.e. the music industry chose to kill Taylor (which is why TTPD is a post-mortem album) so now she’s coming back to haunt them hence the ghostly Victorian attire. “We gather here we line up weeping in a sunlit room and if I’m on fire you’ll be made of ashes too.” THIS is the karma she’s talking abt that will happen at midnight!!

“You’ll see me in hindsight tangled up w you all night burning it down”

I am the APPARITION. I am the LINE OF POETRY. THAT’S TAYLOR. SHE’S THE GHOST WRITING POST-MORTEM POETRY

Literally feel like I am abt to explode from all the earth-shattering revelations I’ve just had

[waihtie]

Season 5, baby. This'll be long.

Season 5 Episode 1 - Sympathy for the Devil

Unlikely (referring to the title)

○ Oh this does not bode well for the brothers. They are locked in the room where Lucifer is coming

Lights and ear bursting noise included

○ Wtf why they on a plane. How random.

○ Silly to think Lucifer wasn't gonna come out more dramatically than any other angel

○ Shit, these boys gonna talk?

Dean says no, more specifically "It's okay"

○ Lol Chuck clocked Sam

He says Cas is dead. Exploded. "Like a water balloon of chunky soup"

He's got Cas in his hair. Gross.

Awee Dean is sad. "Cas you stupid bastard"

Zachariah here to take Dean

He wanted Lucifer freed, now he wants Dean to stop him?

○ Oh the dramatic entrance makes sense, Lucifer doesn't have a body. So why does he next time he's in the cage. Probably filming convenience. No angels had bodies in heaven, after Lazarus Rising they all do/will

^ Brilliant

Awee they were friends. Now he's sad.

○ Sam made a hex bag so demons and angels can't find them

○ Awe Dean's asking Sam how he's doing

I guess using all his mojo on Lilith completely wiped it from his system, so no withdrawal. He says whoever put him on that plane cleaned it out. Either way, that's over.

Dean's done talking about it. He's hurting.

○ Oh my god. Becky writing W*ncest fics

Why's Chuck calling her? Needs her help getting a message to Sam and Dean.

Lmao her reactions to each brother.

Chuck's message is that Michael's sword is on earth, in a castle on a hill of 42 dogs

○ "Becky, can you quit touching me?" "No" I swear Sam gets molested once or twice a season. And they never take it seriously.

○ There's that guilt. Poor Sam. Admitting letting Lucifer out.

Bobby's angry. Says it's unforgivable. But based on that convo from the last episode, something's not right. "Lose my number" Poor Sammy-baby.

His face 🥺😭 He needs a little kiss and a blankey

Dean's gotta know something's up. Bobby saying John was right about killing Sam if it came to it. The exact opposite of what he said about John last ep.

○ John had a storage container at "Castle Storage". He must have it.

○ Yup. Bobby's possessed. How the hell does he not have a anti-possession necklace or tattoo?

○ Meg's back. Where she been? I'll have to go read a few episodes to remember.

Oh right she did that unforgivable thing while in Sam's body then got exorcised.

Dean's turn to get unwantedly kissed 🙄

Note for me: Meg = not on their side. Fighting them. Dipped from this body when she was about to be killed

○ The demon in Bobby was about to kill Dean, but Bobby took over to stab himself. Talk about love.

They took him to the hospital

○ Zachariah put that piece of information in Chuck's head to get them to the storage place. Dean is the "Michael Sword"

Angel's need specific vessels. Not just anybody

Zach just broke Sam's legs to threaten Dean. He wants Michael in a body to lead in this battle. But angels need consent.

Casually gives Dean stage 4 stomach cancer. And takes Sam's lungs. Jesus. Dean would rather they all die than aid in the apocalypse.

Cas-baby coming back to save them. God made no mistake recreating him 😍

It probably would've made more sense to just put Cas in a different vessel, but I'm not complaining

He says the angels didn't put the boys on the airplane, or bring him back, so it must be God

Cas being all threatening. I would've listened too (Zachariah dipped)

That's deeper than I initially thought. Zachariah is his superior. A higher up angel. And he just threatened him

^ I love that (carved sigils to hide them from angels)

He didn't want to answer a question, so he just blipped out. I love that, too. He's so goofy

○ Lucifer been messing with this poor dude. He gotta convince him to say yes. I'm surprised he's not lying. Says he's Lucifer. Says it won't be easy for him. Says he can't bring his family back. But of course he manages to convince the dude, anyway.

○ Bobby is "unlikely to walk again"

○ Dean has faith he can kill Lucifer and the angels and the demons and win the war. So much for him not having faith in himself. I love his attitude rn

○ Aweee Bobby telling Sam that he would never cut him out.

Sam's little smile 🥺🥺

○ Ah, there it is. Dean's says he said all that just for Bobby. He knows they don't "stand a snowball's chance."

○ Sam knows Dean has a thing or two to say to him.

Dean is so hurt

"You chose a demon, over your own brother"

"I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting over here, you know?"

"I don't think we could ever be what we were"

"I don't trust you"

They both ended the episode hurt by the other 💔 at least Sam got to smile for a moment for the first time in too long

[pet-slut-chrissy]

Mistress @owner-of-pet-slut-chrissy often wants me to write about our playtimes because they are embarrassing but this one also shows how much it means to me to wear Her collar.  She requires me to have it on and locked every time She has me edge and especially every time i cum or else i risk a harsh punishment.

so a few days ago She was in a mood to push me hard, starting with a lot of early teasing.. She locked my collar on, put the princess plug lush and ben wa balls in, had the lush randomly going off and on as we talked about a variety of things.  every time i started whimpering and even thought about asking Her if i could cum She would stop, then slowly start up again.. after an hour of this i was completely frustrated and desperate when She just unlocked and removed my collar and told me She would see me a little later..

now it was an hour later and i was dressed to please Her, wearing my shiny black vinyl teddy, grey hobble skirt and black knee high spike heel boots, and still clenching both the lush and my plug.  She told me to tie a rope to my collar and set it outside my cage, the rope leading inside, then i crawled in.  we unzipped the crotch of my teddy, buckled the wand harness on then came the worst part.. She put the nipple clamps on my pussy lips and tied it to the rope to the collar outside my cage.. She said we were going to play my favorite game A-Z, but of course i would not be allowed to cum until my collar was on..  oh, and the wand was going to be turned on whenever i worked at pulling the collar in to the cage and i wasn’t allowed to use my hands.. wait, what??  i was panicking when She told me that i was only allowed to pull the rope get my collar in using the pussy clamps, the heels of my boots or my teeth..  the next 15 or 20 minutes were a blur, i can just imagine how i looked when the wand turned on and i tried to pull the collar, first with my hips pulling the cord by the clamps, then trying to hook it it with my heels then finally putting my mouth down and pulling it with my teeth.. we would do a few letters then i would be begging Her to turn the wand off, i was panting and my pussy was twitching every time then we would pick up again, over and over.. i panicked and cried for Her to turn the wand off when i got the collar to the edge of the cage and it got stuck!  She had a little bit of mercy and let me use my hands to grab it put it on and padlock it with the timer lock for the day, then we continued the game.  however i was told i was not allowed to cum until we got to Z.  somehow i made it, of course the threat of being belted if i came without permission was on my mind.  i was fighting so hard not to cum so when we finished i absolutely exploded with one then right into another 

while i was recovering from these first two orgasms Mistress decided that it would be a good time to see if i remembered some of my positions..  the wand was pulsing and i was trying to think when i blurted out FDAU.. She had me get in position then cum again, then a second position Bitch but not allowed to cum..  Third position with an orgasm and fourth without, and finally i remembered a fifth position, was standing in the corner and She had me cum again..  i was trembling and begging Her to turn the wand off, that i couldn’t take any more, and asking Her to let me lay on the floor, She said i could but only if i gave Her one more..  i somehow managed to find it!  between the teasing session earlier and fighting so hard not to cum for so long then finally being able to let go, i was completely spent..  thank You Mistress for another wonderful playtime & having me as Your collared pet, and I’m especially happy that You came so many times more than i did

[elrielffs]

Well, here it is. Part 2 of a Universe so Divine with Elain pov and this fic is complete! I don't think I'll be able to look ya'll in the eye on the timeline after you read this but I'm proud. I put everything into this and after writing it, I love Azriel and Elain even more. Please enjoy and leave a comment or send an ask if you want!

Tags/Warnings: Explicit Smut, Cunnilingus, Hand Job, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk (so much dirty talk), Pure Filth, Romantic and Horny

Part 1 - god is my help (Azriel pov)

(you don't have to read part 1 to read part 2)

link to ao3 if you perfer

A Universe so Divine Part 2 - my god has answered me

They kissed with abandon—with lips and tongue and teeth and all the emotion that they repressed when not cloistered in a hidden universe of their own design.

Elain thought she knew what kissing was, already knew everything there was to know about the act but she had since came to the understanding that she knew nothing.

Kissing Azriel was like coming up for air, like a thunderstorm after a drought, like she had existed in a world of dull colors that exploded into vivid hues she had never perceived.

Kissing Azriel—being with Azriel—made her feel alive.

The necessity for air was the only thing that broke them apart, chest heaving and eyes locked together keeping them tethered to each other. Elain forced herself to push against his chest and rose to sit on her haunches, if only for a moment to reclaim herself before she was utterly lost.

The way Azriel beheld her as he was sprawled under her made her feel like her heart would burst in her chest. They didn’t need words, they never had and through their silent language Azriel always made her feel so adored, so beloved that her cup runneth over and she didn’t know where to place the excess. Only that she would fight with teeth and nail and claw to keep it all for herself.

She was the only one who got to see the mighty Spymaster of the Night Court undone like this. Toppled by her diminutive frame, wings splayed out under him with tousled hair, a glaze of lust in his hazel eyes that he directed at her alone.

She didn't shy away from it but rather reveled that she was his complete and utter focus. She felt powerful, confident, and in control, a heady mixture that she could never get enough of after a lifetime of being in opposition of the potent blend of emotions.

“I know that look,” he chuckled up at her, eyes boring into her own, challenging her. He gripped her hips hard to buck up into the aching, clothed apex of her thighs, punctuating his thrust with, “You want more.”

She bit her lip and nodded. She hadn’t always allowed herself to want more, hadn’t given herself the freedom of even thinking of what more could look like. She had accepted whatever people were willing to give to her, whatever they thought she deserved.

Now, in this new life, she found that she had changed in more ways than just her body. She did want more.

And she wasn’t afraid to ask for it.

“I want you to kiss me,” she declared and she purred in satisfaction as he didn't hesitate to oblige her, propping himself up on his elbows to reach her but she pressed her hand firmly against his solid chest to halt his advance.

“Not there,” she said coyly, blinking coquettishly at him as the considerate press of her hand sent him onto his back again. He lifted his eyebrows at her inquisitively for only half a second before the corners of his mouth turned up in smug understanding.

A great beat of his powerful wings to adjust and he positioned himself more comfortably on the blanket, before eyeing her enticingly, "Then come here and left your dress pretty girl.”

The pit in her stomach clenched in anticipation as she caged his body in on all fours and crawled on hands and knees till her knees rested above his shoulders. She sat back up and with shuddering fingers, grasped the hem of her skirts and lifted, revealing her gossamer underwear already soaked through with her slick.

Azriel took a deep breath, the expanse of his chest rising and falling to lift her slightly, as his hands resituated themselves on her bare hips, thumbs rubbing circles along her skin.

His razor sharp eyes flicked from her lower body to her own, acute and full of desire.

“Show me Elain,” his voice came out husky and low and male seeing her wet and wanting” show me where you want me to kiss you.”

She inhaled and fisted the majority of her gown in one hand against her waist while the other shakily reached down and slipped the gusset of her panties to the side, displaying herself in full for him.

A deep moan came from the back of Azriel's throat as he took in her entirely exposed for his viewing pleasure, a puff of air escaping his lips to titillate her already sensitive core. “So wet for me” he murmured low, sight unblinking as he looked at her, all of her.

‘Everything about you is lovely Elain’ she recalled him declaring and she knew he also meant this secret part of her.

Azriel tilted his head up to place a kiss against her inner thigh, lips warm and plush, so near to where she wanted his mouth the most and she felt her walls clench in eagerness.

“Divine…” he breathed as he began kissing up, up, up. She braced herself for contact of his lips finally where she needed him to be and let out a keening whine when he skipped her aching core to place a chaste kiss on the top of her mound instead, eyes laughing at her impatience.

“Keep holding you dress up okay sweetie?” He kissed the spot again, and if his intent was to drive her mad, he was succeeding. Elain gave a curt bob of her head and couldn’t stop the tiny thrust of her hips, aching and restless. She was going to die if he didn’t put his mouth on her soon.

“Hold your dress up and don’t look away while I devour this,” a kiss to her mound again, eyes locked onto hers as she tracked his every move ”pretty” a kiss to her right thigh, "pink” to the left “pussy.”

She didn't even have time to appreciate his words before he moved in and planted a bruising kiss on her swollen, pounding clit and began to consume her.

Azriel loved to feast between her thighs like it was his official position at the Night Court. He tongued her clit and pressed his lips against her like he was a man starved.

And through it all his golden gaze never left hers, making sure she followed his demand, making sure she witnessed him worship at the alter of her.

Elain wanted to throw her head back, moan her pleasure to the sky, wanted to drop her gown and entwine her hands in his dark locks and adjust his head and mouth just so, but she also wanted to be good. She so wanted to be good for him.

He was the only one she wanted to be good for.

It didn’t take long with Azriel’s skilled, sinful mouth for the coil in her belly to contract tight, ready to spring and inundate her body with that glowing sensation of gratification. Little gasps broke loose from her lips as she began to sway her hips against his face, giving chase to the beginnings of her unraveling.

“I’m close,” she panted.

He blinked at her sensually like a cat in admission that he had heard her before sliding his hands from her hips to glide up and around her thighs. He gripped both of her buttocks in his hands and squeezed as he began to assist in the grind of her hips, to force her to move faster and faster against his mouth and tongue.

“Azriel don’t stop, don’t stop,” her little mews turned into deep throated moans as she panted in time with the wild rocking of her hips as she reached her peak.

He didn't-- a moment and then she came undone on his tongue, profound moans breaking out of her small quivering form into the night air, her body threatening to topple over if not for the firm grip he had on her thighs.

Elain fought to catch her breath as she surrendered the hold of her body to him, as she lived in the sea of pleasure he had created. He waited patiently in the moments it took for her to come down from her high, one final deep exhale of air and she melted backwards into his hands.

His grasp on her slackened but didn't completely leave as he assisted her with raising herself from his shoulders and guiding her down to rest her bottom on his chest, to let her recuperate if just for a moment.

“Did you enjoy it?” he smirked up at her knowing full well that she did. Immensely.

“Do you have to ask?” she smiled back after finding her voice as he puffed up with pride. She grabbed one of his hands from her waist and brought it to her lips. "I always enjoy it," she praised into his palm closing her eyes and placing a kiss at the center, adoring the familiar texture of his skin on her lips.

She continued to leave a trail of whispered kisses as she turned his hand over to reach his knuckles and ghost her lips over each one. She progressed down his fingers, sending out little flicks of her tongue along the damaged flesh before reaching his fingertips.

Here she faintly parted her lips and enveloped his pointer and middle finger into her hot mouth and gently sucked. She heard the sharp inhale of his breath, felt his body become rigid under her and when she opened her eyes she noticed Azriel's gaze had darkened and a delayed tremor spread through his body culminating in nervous flap of his wings.

Then she felt it, the delicate questioning of pressure on her tongue. She fulfilled his unspoken request by pushing her tongue slightly through her lips and flattening the appendage for him to press down on, for him to fuck his fingers in and out of her mouth.

Saliva quickly accumulated and began to dribble out the corners of her mouth wrapped around his fingers, coating his fingers in her drool as the went in and out.

“Beautiful,” he admired and before it became too much, before she gagged, he stilled his movement and released the pressure off her tongue. Elain bit down lightly on his fingers before pulling them from her mouth, dragging them against her lips and leaving a wet trail from his spit coated fingers down her chin, neck and clavicles before coming to the top of her dress.

There she guided his fingers to quickly undo the flimsy string that held the dress together and continued to pull his hand downward, bringing the top of her dress with it so her breast were revealed. She didn't stop till the clothing bunched around her waist and then brought his hand back up and placed it over one breast.

Azriel sighed as if to himself and muttered, “So very fucking beautiful." Warmth spread from the top of her head to her toes at his compliments. Many people called her beautiful but it only mattered when he said it.

He didn’t hesitate to have his other hand join the first to cup both of her breast. His burned hands, the texture, made her want to melt as he kneaded her soft flesh, digits rubbing roughly over her pebbled nipples.

She bit her lip, the stirrings of desire that had begun again immediately after being sated making itself known in the clench of her tummy, in her still dripping cunt that now began to soak the front of Azriel’s shirt.

“You’re so good to me,” she purred, covering his hands with her own and forcing him to squeeze her breast hard, the flesh overflowing between his fingers. “I want to be good to you too.”

She removed her hands from his and maneuvered her arms until they were free of the sleeves of her dress as he massaged her breast, leaving her upper half uncovered to the night air. She then scooted herself down, his hands reluctantly leaving her, to situate herself below his waist, his noticeable bulge in front of her.

“You’re always good to me Elain," he said, bending his knees so she could lean on the tops of his thighs for support. He was always so considerate of her comfort, so in tune with her and her needs before she even realized what she needed.

She smiled at him boldly and then palmed him through the leather of his pants. A hiss escaped him full of throbbing need and want at her touch and she felt a pang of compassion that he had suffered in silence with his aching cock. Azriel always thought first and foremost of her pleasure, of giving but his pleasure was also hers.

His cock cut an impressive outline visible in his pants, thick and long and stiff. She was the source of his current predicament and she would take care of him, she would be good to him, if only after being a little bad first.

“Is this for me?” She teased, observing the way his pupils dilated, the way his fist clenched as she scraped her nails against the leather, running her pointer finger down the length of him.

“Yes,” he moaned, breathless and aroused, ”all for you.”

She hummed and began to undo the buckle of his pants, the familiar sounds of metal clinking sending a thrill through her at what came next. “All? I don’t know if I can take all of you Shadowsinger,” she taunted as she kept undoing the fastenings. Finally, she reached into this pants and pulled his cock out, proud and hard and dripping with slick on the top.

“You’re so big,” she praised wrapping her fingers around the considerable girth of him and rubbing her thumb along the slit at the top of his cock, spreading it around the head.

“We’ll make it fit,” he said, a pleading tone lacing his voice as she began to caress lightly up and down his length. As if she would deny him, as if she wasn’t already craving the delicious stretch of his cock in her cunt.

He was right of course. They would come together flawlessly, like they were made only for each other, that only they could satisfy their this burning incessant need inside. Elain felt her lower half pound in desire, thinking of the way he filled her up so completely, so utterly, that she ever forgot what it was like to feel empty of him.

She stroked him harder now, working him into a frenzy of passion. He threw his head back to hit on the ground, gripping her so tight she would bruise, his hips thrusting up into her hand as little piteous moans escaped him. She loved seeing him like this, undone and needy and yearning for her.

“Elain you need to stop," he breathed, lifting his head and prying his hands of her hips to her wrist to stop her movement. She didn't heed him, intent on giving him the same pleasure he had her, to give him what he deserved. "Elain," he chided again through clenched teeth, torn between letting her finish him to completion, to revel in the pleasure of her hand or in the tightness of her cunt. With that thought, he made up his mind. She made to move, to position herself so that she could wrap his beautiful cock in her mouth when he grabbed her shoulders and flipped them effortlessly until it was her back against the blanket and him above her, wings open to cover her in shadow, to hide her from the stars.

"If you kept doing that," he growled through gritted teeth, eyes wild like a predator observing their prey ," I wouldn't be able to fuck you."

He lowered his body to drape across hers, careful as not to exert too much weight on her smaller frame. He leaned into her neck and inhaled her scent before nuzzling under her ear, "And I so badly want to fuck you Elain." She felt the heavy weight of his cock twitch against her thigh in proof of his statement and her heart quickened in her chest.

“Then what are you waiting for?” She challenged him angling her head so her lips could press against the set clench of his jaw. He snarled and attacked her mouth, the tang of her still on his lips mingling with her saliva as they fought with tongue and teeth.

He rutted against her mercilessly as they kissed, jerking her body upwards with powerful thrust of his bare cock against her soaked panties.

“Azriel,” she ruptured their kiss, a messy line of saliva trailing from her mouth to his and had to turn her head as he chased her lips with his own, trying to claim her again air be damned.

“I can’t wait anymore,” she whined, fisting his shirt so hard in frustration that the collar loosened, exposing the bronze of his skin chest and the edge of his dark tattoos. “Put it in,” she begged, "please put it in.” Her nails dug into his uncovered flesh, leaving angry lines to mark her need but Azriel either didn't feel or didn't care.

“You want my fat cock?” he retorted to her plight, reaching between them and bunching her underwear in his hand, yanking with ease to tear them in half as she yelped. He then took himself in hand and rubbed along her folds, coating his shaft in her gathered slick before slapping the head against her pudgy clit with a wet smack.

“Yes,” she mewed up at him straining, sparks of pleasure coursing through her body as he rubbed the head of his cock against her tender clit. "Yes!" she cried out, wanton and shameless and desperate for him.

“Then take it pretty girl,” he growled into her ear, but placing himself at her entrance and slowly bullying the blunt tip of his cock into her sopping pussy inch by torturous inch.

Elain's mind emptied of all reasoning becoming consumed with the hard length of him as he immersed himself inside her, as he stretched her pussy on his cock to the hilt.

He stilled, staying like that as he panted wicked and hot into her ear, as she adjusted to the great girth of him. His body trembled with the effort, with the urge to take, take, take, to make her his in every way but she knew he would wait until she was ready.

“Does it feel good Elain?” he raised himself on his arms above her head and looked down, eyes blazing with desire and shaking with restraint ”do you like being stuffed full of my cock?”

She tried and failed to form words so instead she nodded up at him and bucked her hips to prompt him to move but he wasn't satisfied yet. He sat all the way up and peered down at her with a narrowed gaze, every inch an Illyrian warrior. “Tell me,” he demanded as he skimmed his hands from the tops of her thighs to her calves, gripping and wrapping her legs around his waist in preparation. ”Tell me how much you like it.”

He began to thrust lazily, tormenting her as he waited for a response.

Elain hurried to gather her fissured thoughts, slipping in and out of focus as his cock brushed every hidden part of her, making her whimper. He wouldn’t go any faster until she answered and finally she cut through the haze of her cock drunk mind to give voice to thought.

“I love that can I feel you moving inside me,” she panted, placing her hand on her lower stomach so she could feel the presence of his girth as he moved inside, molding her flesh around him.

“I love the burn as you stretch me open," she resumed and she felt him thrust hard into her to give emphasis to her words, causing her to give a sharp cry of pleasure. He crushed her thighs in a vice like grip as his pace picked up with her admission.

"I l-lo-lo,” she stumbled over her words as he rammed his cock into her squelching pussy over and over causing her breast to bounce in tandem with his thrust. “I love that I’ll be sore the next day,” she finally bit out in a rush, followed by a husky moan from the back of her throat.

And she would. She would feel the ache of him in everything she did tomorrow, in every movement, every step and would be pleased and thankful of the reminder of their time together, not that she would--could--ever forget. Even after they were long gone and the memories they had together was the only thing left of her, the echoes of them, of their being, would continue to exist in the ether of time until even time itself ceased to be and she believed even after that.

He startled her when he paused and pulled out of her completely and she couldn't stop the wail of dismay at the sudden emptiness she now felt.

But Azriel wasn’t done and she was mollified when he gently coaxed her to roll over onto her stomach and rise on her hands and knees. She felt him situate himself against the back of her thighs, lifting her skirts to display her ample bottom. He caressed her buttocks before his fingers harshly pressed into her flesh and he gave no warning before he penetrated her again, this time plunging his cock in swiftly and with a more punishing momentum that left her clawing the blanket in her fist and sobbing into the soft surface.

He didn't stop as he leaned over her, chest to back to murmur to her low and unsteady, “I love that you take my cock so well." He punctuated his sentence by short, hard thrusts that left her gasping into the ground. “You were made for me," he said guttural and full of possessiveness.

She was. She was. She wanted to tell him, wanted to say she was made for him and he for her, that they completed each other and complimented each other’s lives so well that she couldn’t ever imagine them being apart, that there was no part of her that wasn't engraved with the essence of him and him alone.

“Az…Azriel,” she she choked out, trying to imbue her voice with all that she couldn't say but it took too much, her mind entirely on him pumping his cock in and out of her with brutal speed, leading her to her ruin.

She never wanted him to stop fucking her. She wanted him always inside her, always moving within her until they were bones and dust and their blended souls danced among the stars forever.

“I’m going to breed you Elain,” he growled with a primal urge, his hand coming up under her to lay his fingers splayed against her own still on her lower stomach in suggestion. Their hands met and intertwined, a promise for the future. “Is that what you want? Want me to shoot my load into your needy pussy?”

Elain was long gone now, having surrendered herself to his cock, but through her pleasure filled haze she managed to respond. “Yes,” she breathed deep, a cloud of her own breath warming her face as her forehead rested on the ground. “Please cum inside me, fill me up, breed me breed me breed me…” she begged, not caring that she sounded like a bitch in heat as she dissolved into incoherent babbling and moans as he bounced her on his cock.

“Fuck Elain,” Azriel hissed from behind her as he snapped his hips in earnest, his rhythm falling to frantic, wild abandon, desperate. “Elain Elain Elain my Elain” he chanted like a prayer, like he was begging for mercy as he impaled her again and again on his cock.

“I’m yours! Azriel I'm yours,” she cried to him over the wet noises of him pounding into her, feral and untamed as tears came to her eyes and fell down her cheeks to soak the blanket.

She felt the hot ropes of his cum shoot into her, coating her walls at the same she reached her own peak, cresting the summit of their joining, her sight going white and sound blanking out that she almost thought she was having a vision. She died a million little deaths as she was fractured into pieces and put back together again and again with 'azriel azriel azriel' reverberating in her heart.

A few more finishing thrust and he collapsed on top of her but before she could take the full brunt of his weight he wrapped his arms around her protectively and rolled to the side, bringing her with him to settle her into the crook of his body, back to chest in an embrace. One of his arms slid under her head for support and the other wrapped around her waist where their hands once again weaved themselves together between her breast, next to her heart. He tucked his chin between her shoulder and neck so he could breath her in, and unfurled his wings around them partially cocooning them from the world as they recovered.

Elain lay there basking in the afterglow, safe and content with a satisfied throb between her legs and relaxed, listening as their hearts beat in tandem, slowing down and their mingled breath evening out as the world started to make sense again.

Night had fully fallen and with it came a chill but even though the top of her body was still exposed she was warm and cozy in Azriel's arms and the shelter of his wings. She could see through a small gap tiny fae lights illuminating the glade with a soft glow that shown through the membranous parts of his wings.

She never wanted to leave, to lay entangled with him like this forever, and it pained her because she knew they could not. The dream had to eventually end. She felt him tense behind her and knew he had come to the same realization.

“We have to go soon,” he murmured close to her ear and she felt the stab of his chin as he said the words as if they were piercing her heart. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she could hold the thought, the already spoken words at bay.

They were expected at the family dinner tonight and she would have to bath beforehand, to remove his scent from her no matter how much it grieved her. She would have to sit across from him at the same table, to be around him and not touch him, to not stare at his breathtaking beauty, to make sure not to pay too much attention to him, to act cordial, like acquaintances or friends, like the world didn't begin or end with him.

“I know,” was all she could muster to say, small and low, fighting to keep the quiver out of her voice. Her fingers absentmindedly played with his, rolling over and under as she tried and failed to think of a way to stay, to selfishly keep them here away from the world in their own universe.

“Just…a bit longer," she conceded, not quite willing to give up completely. She felt the dip of his chin, a nod, and his arms pulled her even closer to him.

They lay there a few minutes more and when she finally found the courage to move, to leave the intimacy and his warmth behind for now, he gripped her tight to him and she felt the moisture of his breath along her cheek as he whispered to her.

”I’m yours too.”

Her Azriel.

my god has answered me

[rukorukie]

Grins. Tell me about Lia :3 I'm mainly curious if you have a cage and/or psychodrama set up for her? Or if you don't, what about her relationship with Ellen? What did they think of each other at first? What do they think of each other now?

HGF3FGQHFAAAHHHHH OK LET ME TELL YOU WHAT I HAVE 😁😁😁

Yes i have a cage and i think it was very clever of myself to think about it. very vERY MUCH

TW: ARACHNOPHOBIA!!!

Under the cut cus theres too much here cough

Ok so, it consists of a cage where shes trapped in a spider web, where various spiders of different sizes crawl over her body, and some even enter her body through her mouth. Some of them get in her ears and whisper horrific things about her past and about herself, how she will never be able to remember how her father was, how her mother treated her and manipulated her multiple times, how she will never be understood, etc etc.

About the psychodrama part, I'm still working on it, but I'm thinking about making something related to her relationship with her mother and spiders or something like that

AND ABOUT THEM..,... ABOUT LIA AND ELLEN OH WOW I MIGHT EXPLODE I LOVE THEM WITH MY SOUL

Well, I didn't wrote much stuff about them so I'll just make anything right now with what I think and what i have IDK

At first, Lia didn't trust anybody, of course. But, seeing that Ellen was the only woman with her and all the things that she has gone throught, she felt very bad for not being able to do something about it, to maybe, try to stop it, because she knew if she even tried, it wouldn't go well, it wouldn't work. So with that, Ellen was the only one she truly cared about, but sometimes she would just pull herself away from her, being afraid of trying to help her and not doing it well, making her feel like someone that doesnt know how to help anyone without feeling like it wouldn't be enough, Lia had a lot of problems in her mind, which would difficult their relationship a little, but it would NOT keep them away from each other, certainly not. I think i wrote some stuff wrong and forgot a thing or two, but anyways!

And about what Ellen thought about her at first, I'm not really certain of it, I'm afraid of mischaracterizing her in any way because aUGEHGWHGEG idk 💔 But she was glad that there was someone to care about her, to be interested of learning about her, to see her more than just a... you know... And also, Lia refused to have anything sexual with her, idk what to add to this information but yeah she refused, even if it lead to worse tortures, SHE COULD EAT SPIDERS BUT SHE STILL REFUSED oops i think i said to much hehe :3 and despite Lia being someone who suffered a lot in her life and being a complicated person to deal with, she does her best to understand everything about her, and so does Lia THEYRE SO AAUGG4H4H

sorry if i didnt have too much to say about ellen im HORRIBLE at writing about characters that arent my ocs and i hope its accurate to the way she thinks dont shoot me....

About what they think of each other now, I would say they are very close, they care very much about each other, they're glad to have each other's company, and Lia haves very strong feelings towards Ellen, she loves her so much I can't even describe it, but she still keeps it to herself, scared of what Ellen might think, scared of them being invalid because of what Ellen suffered,,,, oh god its too much for my small brain IM TRYING MY BEST ALRIGHT,,,,

but well i think thats it,,,, THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTUON!!!! if i wrote anything wrong i am very sorry because i have poor media literacy idk if thats the name im looking AND MY HAND ARE FREEZING but yeah thats it,,,, HIH8EGEHHQAAAHGHRHEH IM SO HAPPY RN THAMK YOU THANK YOU STARTS CLIMBING ON THE WALLS

[star--nymph]

@shivunin: Oooh what's the deal with Rabbits? 👀

Ohohoho SO! Remember months and months ago how you brought up this picture:

and said you'd love to see a fic based around it and we discussed that Eury would probably end up like that after killing an assassin who went after Cullen?

That's Rabbits! It was such a good idea to explore with them, how could I not begin writing it? It's slow going like everything else I do, but I have gotten two scenes deep into it.

Dorian countered back, “Are you telling me this is the first death threat ever delivered to her? Truly?” “It is not.“ Eurydice answered, lifting a hand to run through a strand of curling hair at her cheek, ”It is the seventh that has wanted to cut out my heart. The third mentioning decapitation. The 34th which refers to me with the slur of–” “Only three for decapitation? I got more of that by the time I was twelve--” “Yes, thank you, Lavellan.“ Leliana interrupted them, lifting her hand in a signal that read ‘stop’. The Spymaster’s eyes lingered back onto the note, finally daring to uncurl its edges to glean what it was inside--or perhaps what it was made of. ”I am less concerned about the contents as much as the method. Your people have figured out transportation with fire?” Dorian took the time to peer at the note itself, considering her question. “Unless they have discovered my teenager rambles of grandeur and decided to make good on them, I doubt it. I’ve seen this before. It’s more akin to a…” He spun his hand in the air, trying to think of the right word, “parlor trick rather than real magic. I’ve seen four-year-olds do this with drawings–it’s not exactly hard. You simply need a point of focus, a fire, something small enough to ride on the wind, and a clear opening.” Leliana’s eyes narrowed, “Do you need to be close by?” “Define ‘close’.” “Within Skyhold’s range.” “Well, that entirely depends on the talent of the spellcaster, doesn’t it? Some could perhaps manage it from the mountains if they had a telescope and a strong wind–others need a picture or a clear image in their mind. They can’t do much more than make something appear if that’s what you’re worried about. No exploding papers–we’re not the Merchant’s Guild.” The answer didn’t inspire satisfaction if the way Leliana pressed her lips into a tight line was any indication. Eurydice’s fingers caught on a knot and spared a flickering glance towards Leliana–or rather, her fingers spread out on the desk and then drawing back into fists. Eurydice hummed, and her eyes left the woman again for more interesting things, like how the raven’s cages swayed in the tower draft, “You suspect the caster is here, Spymaster.” Leliana’s head lifted, blue eyes peeking from under her bangs. “Do you?” She didn’t like her blue eyes; how they always fished for hers. Searching, grabbing, holding. Trying to unlock what was ever inside her. Eurydice turned her face, and let her hair shield her. “No.” She said flatly, “My quarters are untouched. I have placed six protection wards that are intact. No individuals were inside my residence last night nor this morning except for me and the Commander.” A pause. An assessment. Then, Leliana stood to her full height, clasped her hands behind her back, and asked, “What does the Commander think?” Her fingers caught on a knot again. “I did not inform him.” “Probably for the best; no reason to make the man’s head spin more than he makes it every day.” Dorian quipped lightly and reclined further back in his chair. Leliana shifted her stare from the Inquisitor to the mage. “You are strangely nonchalant about this, Dorian. Is it amusing that the Inquisitor’s life is in possible peril?” The corner of her mouth curled up but it felt sharper than a smirk, less playful than the grin Dorian threw back at her. Something silent was being spoken between them, Eurydice didn’t know–a banter she honestly wanted no part of. “You mean more than usual? I find it positively boring.” Dorian drawled dramatically and then, his face became still as water in an untouched lake. “I know this type of magic, Spymaster. You asked me here for my opinion, correct? My opinion is that this is all paltry, given your network of spies. Have they informed you of a threat beyond the emergence of this note?”

[scarletknightreterns]

Not too sure what I had had in mind when I started writing this. For a bit of context: This takes place eons after Cinder had met Death and his younger siblings when they were still children, she'd been imprisoned, lost her memory, and they practically don't remember her in turn-- or don't want to. Slowly, memories are starting to return for her, and to find some means of usefulness, Cinder fights in Death's stead when he'd been chosen to fight in the Crucible against a very powerful foe. I dunno, I wanted to see how they would react to such, and even explore some of her more in-depth feelings and lightly touch on the existential crisis she is having. Enjoy :)

__________

"You disobeyed a direct order from me-" Livid was an understatement. The Horseman was riding the fine line between the precipices of nightmarish rage and a temperate anger. Orange eyes blazed with a sharpness his body failed to revision through motion and expression- perhaps because his emotions were on a scale beyond what the physical body could properly express. But his eyes? The gateway into his soul, if not very being? Every drop was visible to the naked eye, and it was terrifying. "I told you- very specifically- not to fight," he spoke with a voice that was the very rumble of an avalanche through a distant mountain. Potent and dangerous.

She for one looked unbothered. Well, not entirely unbothered; anger seethed under the surface of nerves notched already from weary dreams and memories wearing her down at previous times, susceptible was she to accusations and ill-tempers. Now was no different in the face of the bristled Horseman and his siblings who stood on the sidelines, observing but not intervening, perhaps with their own trepidation to get in-between Death's ire and the woman.

"You needed my help," came a counter, spoken on an even tone, but perhaps failed to hide all of that which she tried to hide.

"What I needed," coldness spooled in front of that bone mask as though it had a mouth of it's own, which it did not. "Was not what you gave."

"I survived, didn't I?" she growled, crossed arms slowly unfolding in a stance of mild aggression-- or, perhaps, defensiveness.

Death allowed himself a moment or two to pace, if not to channel some of this violent energy pulsing through his veins, remaining just below the limit of exploding. His eyes remained ever fixed on her, like a hunter stalking prey, keeping the other ever in sight. "Only because you have a miraculous," it was not spoken kindly, "ability of regrowing limbs compared to the rest of us-- you'd be lacking three, your organs, and your eyes if that weren't the case!"

Cinder narrowed her eyes at Death, a wrath in her eyes, though it was uncertain if it was angelic or of demonic origins. "I fought because I knew I could WIN! A limb means nothing to me when it grew back within the minute!"

"That is not the point-"

"I am just trying to be of USE." she took a threatening step forward, and Strife wearily glanced between the two of them with his hands on his hips. the other siblings remained silent but held their own opinions clear on their face; War's was of reserved understanding, Fury's almost a disapproval. "And you refuse to listen to me!"

Death looked at Cinder, fingers flexing.

"You act like your keeping tabs on a potential enemy. I can be your ally but you all refuse to allow me to be! Then why keep me here?!" she demanded, eyes snapping in the direction of each and every one of them, searching for some sort of answer, desperate for some way out from this suffocating cage she felt to be in.

"The Charred Council has given their orders," Fury spoke up, very little patience in her voice.

"I do not belong to the Charred Council. You four, however, are their damn lap dogs!" She visibly saw them stiffen. Death's hand twitched, War's grip on his weapon tightened, Strife went oddly still, Fury's teeth were barred with her fingers clenched around her whip already.

"The Balance you have been made to believe does not exist, nor will it ever unless you wake up."

"And what do you know, of the Balance." With a deadly grace of a hunting beast, Death approached. "What have you done to contribute, in your time imprisoned, memory-less, and lost, hmm? What have you done that we haven't?"

"How dare you...."

"Is that all you have?" he challenged.

"I," she stepped up to Death, closing the distance as steadily as his pace did. "Reaped souls, I kept peace in the Balance before the Charred Council even existed and called to power you and your siblings. I protected the well of souls-- I was guardian of reincarnation, I DECIDED who came back and who did not. I KEPT tainted souls out of the Threads of Life."

"I don't see you doing much anymore," Death spoke his mind honestly, but made a huge mistake. He failed to register her anger, or how close she'd been to snapping. It was but half a second he had to register the shrinking of her pupils, before she thew a strike that actually struck. He staggered back, stunned by the force of her blow and the sting of the wounds on his shoulder, but quickly met her with his scythe drawn, taking a step back. Impossibly swift and experienced in the art of his attack style, Cinder could predict and snatched the shaft closest to the blade that neared for the injuring strike. A harsh yank pulled him closer, ducking that second swing of his, and took the opportunity to jab him upside the head with her opposite elbow. 'What the hell-" appalled was he that, in all these eons, someone had actually managed to land a strike on him. Impressed, would he be if his mind did not ring with a distant chiming bell. A moment, he took to recognize the skill she actually had to read his movements before he actually executed them. Head snapping up, ebony locks tossed with the violent motion. Cinder blocked Fury's attack with the scythe Death did not remember letting go of, but figured it must have been when she'd yanked-- with more strength then he had expected- him closer. "Stop!"

Fury flicked her wrist, aiming to tangle Cinder in a thorny trap of Scorn. The ethereal metals wrapped around Cinder's arm, shredding her flesh but somehow the appendage stayed on. Tugging just right, Cinder dislodged the tangled teeth of Scorn, the taught line going slack, and she grabbed hold, yanking with a semi-spectral hand with enough force to tear Fury from the ground, flinging her away. Just in time, she ducked away from the scythe twin to the one in her grip, countering it with it's sibling, steel sparks flying. Death ducked and sprung, swinging outwards with his foot, the sole of his boot narrowly missing Cinder when she ducked again to avoid that painful collision to her jaw. Swerving to the side, before he could find his footing, she struck out with what necromantic energy she had. The advantage was that he was still mid-air, and not fully out of his move just yet. The energies struck him square in the chest, and he tumbled to the ground.

"You have no idea what I am going through," Heaving a painful breath, Cinder approached. "I am plagued at night by dreams and memories of a past i am beginning to recall. I do not sleep, I starve no matter how much I devour." she expressed with her hands, stolen scythe still in her grip. "I just want to find a reason to exist again when I have nothing! I am filled with so much agony and hatred that I am TRYING to mediate peacefully."

Wordlessly, the Horseman watched her kneel in front of him, hands twitching in anticipation of an attack, eyes locked on hers though he saw a significant lack of anger after her outburst. Just... Was that regret he saw?

"Don't become the outlet I channel my anger into..." Extended was her hand, and the scythe she'd snatched from him, the curve pointed in her own direction, but bent along the length of the shaft. It was a state Death recognized- it was the one of neutrality. She was returning what was his, and he took it, standing up along with her.

"Well..." he huffed, returning both scythes to his belt after a long moment of feeling the comfort of them in his hands. He still hadn't fully recovered from the shock in his mind. "Is that all?"

A sigh, it almost sounded like a snarl. "One more thing." The bony ridge of his eyebrow seemed to lift in reply, despite it's improbable nature to do so. "You are a jerk."

"I was well aware, thank you for your wasted input-" Her fist collided so squarely with the front of his mask, it almost shattered the nasal bone. Did he deserve it? Probably.

[heart-n-sol-critters]

Even though I'm a Craftyday/Sun flower shipper I do really like this ship and have a couple of headcanons that I would like to share with you! :D

• Their ship name is either Sunkiss, Sunnycuddles, or Puppylove

• They have tons of sleepovers together

• Once every 2 weeks they go on a date

(It's always something really cute like- going to the museum, having a picnic, baking together, going roller skating, picking flowers, watching the fireworks together, going to the beach, going to the carnival/state fair etc..)

• Kickin and Hoppy LOVES to tease Dogday by impersonating Bobby's voice and saying things like "Oh Dogday you're so strong and handsome!" "I just wanna hug and kiss you all over!" "Carry me away your arms!" and laugh as they watched Dogday's face turns as bright as a strawberry from embarrassment

• He think that Bobby's beauty is a complete UNDERSTATEMENT. He thinks that she's the most beautiful girl in the entire world

• Despite the fact that Dogday is allergic to chocolate, that isn't stopping him from getting a box of chocolates just for her

(he usually just gives it to her while wearing gloves and a mask)

• Dogday loves to surprise Bobby by giving her a big beautiful bouquet of flowers out of nowhere

• Bobby loves to surprise Dogday by jumping out of nowhere and smothering him with kisses and hugs

• Whenever Bobby is wearing lipstick or lip gloss, she'll leave hundreds of tiny little kiss marks all over Dogday's face

• Dogday will often make heart-shaped pancakes for Bobby

• THEY CALL EACH OTHER EVERY SINGLE PET NAME IN THE BOOK.

• Their favorite activity is making friendship bracelets together

• Dogday lets Bobby do his makeup and nails

Bobby: "Hey Sunshine"

Dogday: "Yeah Babe, what's up?"

Bobby: "I have a question..."

Dogday: "Well what is it?"

Bobby: "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Dogday: "Uhmmm.... Yeah, sure!"

Bobby "WAIT REALLY??!!?"

Dogday: "Well yeah! I'd probably keep you in a cage for your safety and I would probably let you move around my hand"

Bobby: "YAAAY!!"

• Dogday is VERY protective of Bobby to the point where the other critters have started calling him "Bobby's guard dog" WHICH IS VERY TRUE, because whenever someone tries to be mean or belittle Bobby, he'll get all up in their face and act 10x more aggressive than they were to Bobby

• If someone makes fun of Bobby, she'll cry. BUT If someone made fun Dogday and made him cry OH MAN IT'S GOING TO BE A LIVING HELL FOR THEM. IT WOULD BE A BLOODBATH

(she wouldn't kill them. she would just give them a severe ass whooping while screaming at to never mess with Dogday ever again. (they're just both very protective of each other)

• My headcanon for Bobby is that she has separation anxiety and abandonment issues so, when Dogday found out about it PRIVACY WAS NO LONGER A THING. HE WOULD CLING ON TO HER LIKE A KOALA AND SHE LOVED IT. THEY STUCK TOGETHER LIKE SUPER GLUE, IT HONESTLY IMPRESSIVE HOW CLINGY THEY ARE

• PDA IS THEIR WHOLE THING. They'll hold hands, hug, cuddle, kiss each other, and even nuzzle their noses with 0 SHAME WHATSOEVER.

• Catnap, Bubba, and Kickin are Dogday's wingmen and Craftycorn, Picky, and Hoppy are Bobby's wingwomen

• Bobby has a A03 account and secretly writes fanfics about her and Dogday

(the only ones you know about are Crafty and Hoppy)

• Their favorite outdoor activities are going on the swings, playing tag, and playing fitch

• They have tons of karaoke nights

• They both love the fireworks but Dogday HATES how loud they are so whenever they're watching the fireworks together Bobby will cover Dogday's ears whenever a big firework is it about to explode

• They'll often play board games and video games together

Kickin: "Hey, Bubba"

*Bubba looks up from his book to see that it's Kickin*

Bubba: "Hmm? Oh hi Kickin, what's going on?"

Kickin: *point at Bobby and Dogday who are currently on the floor and look very angry while also being on the verge of tears* "What's up with them?"

Bubba: "Hmm? Them? Yeah, they just got into an argument. Don't worry about it"

Kickin: "Okay? If they just got into an argument, then why are they holding hands?"

Bubba: "Because Kickin, they get sad whenever they get into an argument"

• PDA IS WHOLE THING. They'll hold hands, hug, cuddle, kiss, they'll even nuzzle there are noses with 0 SHAME WHATSOEVER

• They're very much Barbie and Ken core

(Specifically from Life in the Dreamhouse and not the Barbie movie. if ykyk.)

• DOGDAY GIVING BOBBY PRINCESS TREATMENT👏 👏👏>>>>>>>

• Dogday is such a gentle man to Bobby like- He'll open the door, clear her chair, and just be a straight-up walking green flag

• Dogday will pick Bobby up and spin her around just like how Disney prince does to his princess

• Whenever they're apart from each other for more than 5 minutes they'll become super sad and miss each other

Bobby:*sighs* "I miss my boyfriend"

Hoppy: "OH MY GOD. BOBBY. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN YOU SHUT UP ABOUT DOGDAY FOR AT LEAST 1 MINUTE PLEASE??"

(don't get me wrong, Hoppy does care about her best friend's happiness however, when she hears about her talking about her boyfriend ALL THE TIME. she does get a little tired from it)

That's all I have for now! I hope you like it!! :D

these are all so good !! :D

[alterrune]

CHAPTER 4, ACT 3: TOO LITTLE WATER

(This time, Ellie's taking us on a trip with her motorbike, with all of us in side-cars [aside from me in my wheelchair]. The plan is, since there's not a snowball's chance in hell we're going to be able to be sneaky, we'll do the entire thing as a drive-by.)

(We manage to head up to the guys on the truck...)

Oh hey! You must be the CSB we've heard so much about! Hope you all can survive a desert sandstorm! HAHAHAHA---

Can it, jerk-offs.

Eat lead!

(...and Alter and Vi both whip out pistols and both unload their entire clip into them. Ellie then tosses an explosive charge onto their vehicle, blowing it up.)

WE DID IT!

(However, a bunch of gunships surround us.)

Oh, back for more? Very well, then. Check this out.

(Using nothing but my arms, I speed over to grab one of the turrets and yank one of the mine dispensers from under the ground, then I use Storyteller to write in "handheld weapon combiner", and use the device to combine both into a what is essentially a high-speed, high-power grenade machine gun turret. I then attach it to my wheelchair and begin driving around while shooting said grenade machine gun at the enemies.)

OH FUCK THIS! BAIL!

(However, I explode each and every one of their vehicles, and then blow each and every one of them into red chunks of meat.)

GODDAMN. You left no survivors this time!

Didn't think you had it in you.

They're evil, guys. Couldn't leave a single one.

Fair enough. Hop back in, guys! I'll take us back to base.

(The other 4 hop back into the sidecars on Ellie's motorbike while I speed along on my wheelchair, intent on heading back to the Airship to celebrate another job well done.)

CHAPTER 4, ACT 3 COMPLETE!

ACHIEVEMENT GET: "Exploding Kittens" (added to "Operation Cat's Claw" set)

DISPLAYING EPILOGUE...

NO NO NO!

(Kelso is currently watching our handiwork on her monitor.)

HOW DO THEY KEEP PULLING VICTORIES OUT OF THEIR ASSES?!?!?!

(Suddenly, her monitor goes to static, as we appear on it.)

Oh, hey! We're live!

Hiya, Kelso! We figured this time we'd give you a live chat from one of your now-dead soldier's two-way emergency camera feed.

Nothing like having a video call from what you assume to be one your soldiers, but it turns out to be us, eh?

(Kelso slams her hands onto the desk.)

WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU [this text has been redacted due to an enormous amount of incredibly racist slurs being used here], I WILL BREAK YOU IN HALF LIKE A FUCKING TOOTHPICK!

Jeez, potty mouth much?

Anyways, hope you're prepared to get absolutely demolished, Kelso.

Because when we find you, we will kick your fucking ass and get Carol back to safety at the same time.

And you can count on that.

SEE YA REAL SOON, KELSO!

(We cut the feed after that.)

See that? My son and his friends have their ways. Take my advice, Kelso. Give up. Throw in the towel. Maybe then they'll show you mercy.

(Kelso walks over to Carol's cage, whips out a pistol and fires it square in her face.)

Oh, get off it. It was a blank round.

(To prove it, Kelso aims the gun at her head and shoots, and nothing comes out of the barrel.)

See? You really think I'd kill you when you're of use to me?

Wait...am I your bait?

Yes and no. Regardless of if you're here or not, the CSB will find this location eventually. I'm just giving them the incentive to actually do it. Plus, torturing you is fun. Speaking of which, how's your other arm and leg?

Kelso. Don't you fucking DARE break them.

Oh, don't worry. I won't break them...

(Kelso grabs Carol's other arm and leg and pops them out of their sockets, then pops them back in.)

...but I will dislocate them from their sockets for a moment. They still work, right?

Yes, and fully work at that. I can tolerate pain like that, but you'd better give me some bandages to wrap around my arm and leg.

(Kelso begrudgingly applies some medical bandages to the areas where she dislocated Kelso's limbs from their sockets. The areas develop nasty bruises, but other than that, she's still fine.)

Count your fucking days, Kelso.

Don't worry, Cross.

I've been counting since I started.

END OF EPILOGUE

[panzershrike-pretz]

when you get this, answer with five mutuals you love and why! then send to five other people <3

@onehelluvamarine -> LOU IS AMAZING!! Truly an amazing and cool person with whom I could spend hours talking to if I could! She's sweet, understandable and we vibe so much?? I love having the privilege to call Lou my friend! Truly, makes me feel very lucky >:3 and she also always finds my memes funny so I win. And I converted her to Potoo (with Em's help). I could tag all of your blogs to fill up the 5 mutuals because I love you so so so much!!

@xxluckystrike -> BLU IS SUCH A COOL PERSON SHE'S SO TALENTED AND COOL SJDJSJWJ!!!!!!! She makes the most amazingest moodboards and then writes so well????? And she's in fucking bands??????? Leave a bit of art for the rest of us 😡😡😡😡😡 (i love you do much I could explode you with my mind💕💕💕💕💕)

@whollyjoly -> EMMMMMMMM!!!! THE OTHER POTOO LOVER!!!!! THE PO TO MY TOO!!! I love her. She's so funny and chaotic (I love tuis about her!) And her little "psst" before telling people she loves them?? Em you are awesome as fuck, thank you for being you and existing on the same timeline as me!!

@sweetxvanixlla -> VANI IS SO SWEET, IT MAKES SENSE IT'S IN HER NAME! If she were a bird she'd be maybe a cockatiel, probably (idk they seem so sweet). And also she has the vibes of cotton candy, thank you. VANI IS SUCH AN ADORABLE WOMAN AND GOOD TO TALK TO! I also love when she uses her signature blue heart 🩵

@1waveshortofashipwreck -> EM!!! AGAIN!!! I LOVE TALKING TO HER!!! We get to speak a little almost everyday and it's so cool! I'm in love with your energy and your funnyness (this word exists? Anyway). I adore you, girl, keep being great! You are cool as fuck 😎🫵 i'd hug you real hard

TL;DR: friends should not be allowed to live far away from me and I'll kidnap all of you to live inside my closet. Or in a cage. We'll see

[bee-barnes-author]

Dead Darlings Tag

Tagged by @tabswrites

Tagging: @coffeewritesfiction @vivrune @violeaes @tombstuck @ellierenae @milkhoney531 @amandacanwrite @leahkentwriter @pheita @following-the-drum @sirensatyr and an open tag for anyone else!

Rules: Share a part of your writing you love that got cut for the greater good. It doesn't matter if it's a line or a paragraph. It doesn't matter if you might work it back in. If it's not currently in a WIP and you want to share, please do.

Deleted excerpt from 'The Beast in the Glass House' (it's a long one!)

Elijah doesn’t take it well when I tell him I’ll be staying behind this moon cycle, leaving him in charge of the pack while I’m here. “Seriously? You won’t be there? Well, what the hell are you doing instead?”

“I’m attending a Halloween party with Freya and her friends.” I say, cool toned and firm in my phrasing. My little brother can’t talk me out of this one. I’m confident in my position. This is the right path for me.

Elijah gapes at me like I’ve spontaneously sprouted a second head on my shoulders. “How are you going to do that? It’s the first night.”

“I’ll be fine. We’ll leave the party before the moon is even an issue for me.” I wave his concerns off. “Haven’t I proven my control?”

His lips twitch like he has a thousand words to say, but after a moment he finally lands on, “Do you want me here as backup?”

I shake my head. “No, I need you to lead the pack run.”

He pushes back, not satisfied by my answer. “Klaus can do it. I think you need me here as backup.”

“Look, Elijah, I appreciate that you’re trying to protect me, but what you’re actually doing is undermining me. I said I’ll be fine without you.”

My final refusal seems to push his temper over the edge. “But what if you’re not fine?! What if you’re just getting sicker and sicker like dad did?!” He stomps his foot at me like a child and for a long, horrible second I think I’m going to slap him.

But I control myself. I won’t lash out like that. “ENOUGH! Elijah! I am your Alpha and you will obey me!”

“I’m worried about you, jackass!” Elijah roars back, not quite matching my volume. He makes the wise choice not to get in my face. We both know how a fist fight between us would end.

“Don’t you think I’m terrified, too?! You stupid fuck! That’s why I have to do this! If our bond can settle completely, and she knows the truth about us, then everything can go back to normal! But this is a very delicate process. So you need to back. Off.” I emphasize my final words, putting pressure on the pack bond we share. This is an order, and he knows it. 

He knows it, and he fucking hates that I’ve done it. Elijah purses his lips, clearly biting back more vicious anger. “Fine.” He snarls, snatching his coat and stomping to the front door. “Fine. Don’t fucking listen to me. Jesus, fuck.” He’s not gentle when shutting the door behind him. He slams it so hard that the door frame vibrates violently, and the pictures on the wall rattle, threatening to slip off their mounts.

Elijah thinks I’m nothing more than a beast, whose cage is actually a house made of glass. He treats me like I’ll explode at any second, goring everyone around me with crystalline shards in the process. Tonight, I will prove to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am in control. I won’t have him undermining me with the rest of the wolves. No pack can survive if the Alpha’s Second attempts mutiny.

On the counter, next to where Elijah stood moments ago, is a cluster of purple herbs tied together with twine. Every full moon cycle, Elijah makes tea with this and that helps to delay his transformation for as long as possible. He’s stoned out of his gourd by the time he finishes his second cup, and he says it tastes like eating a fruitarian's shit, but it’s worth it because it works. And, as furious as he is with my choice to stay behind this cycle, he still chose to leave behind a bundle of his precious herbs for me.

I pick the herbs up like they’re more fragile than eggshell china. Like they’ll crumble in my grip if I clutch it too tight. I don’t know the scientific name for them, but the long purple stems grow lush, purple petals, and even the pollen that dusts the feet of the bees is a rich purple. They’re fairly rare on this side of the world. Elijah has the only greenhouse that grows them on the west coast, as far as I know. Lucius had disagreed with using them, so out of respect, Elijah kept the plants on my property and transported small batches to the cabin each moon.

My brother is a good man. I need to remember that. He’s just scared for me, and while, as I said to his face, I’m scared as well, I can’t let that stop me from doing what I need to do. For the good of myself and for the good of the pack. He’ll see that once we’re on the other side of this mess.

For today, I push away the strife. It’s eight a.m, and I’m due to be at your front door in two hours. It’s your tradition to take Halloween day off of work and celebrate in as many ways as you can. You’ve invited me to spend the day leading up to the party with you. Of course, I accepted immediately. What sort of fool would I have to be to decline the opportunity to spend more time with you?