#i am liking her vibe as a crow

[alenkosx]

One of the strongest pieces on the board, but she tends to think in straight lines. → Alina de Riva.

[earl-grey-crow]

"I'm...I'm alive. I'm okay" I heard your voice crack jacob

[midnightwind]

I love Dragon Age companion quests, but sometimes I wish we had more that didn't culminate in fighting a Big Personal Bad, you know

[impossible-rat-babies]

freaking like. eshka is getting into gender stuff that’s like. hmmmm this is really uhhhh Close and Personal huh

[graysongraysoff]

Every time I think I've finally sated my Arthuriana curiosity (my Arthuriosity) I have another fucking Dream

[eff4freddie]

Play With It

Joel Miller x AFAB Reader

Explicit - Minors DNI

Your busy schedules have meant you just can't get it together, and you're starting to miss each other. Joel is finding it particularly...hard.

(AU no outbreak)

Warnings: Just some good old PWP, smut, phone sex, Joel is a menace, dirty talk, praise kink, Joel talks you through it, kind of soft pleasure-dom vibes? Please tell me if you like this, if you can't already tell I also have a praise kink, love me damnit

Words: 3.5k

NEW! Sequel - Play With Her

You just kept missing each other – literally and figuratively. If you had a late shift at the hospital, Joel had an early start on the site. If you got home to make dinner, Joel was working late. If you both managed to get home at roughly the same time, you lay on the couch next to each other in sweats and barely scraped the energy together to turn the TV off for bedtime. Your schedules were just out of whack. It happened.

But you were missing him. The fold of his crow’s feet when he smiled, the gentle little huff of effort when he bent down on his bad knee to pick up a fallen utensil, his heat behind you in bed, enveloping you and soothing your frazzled, jangling nerves. Your hindbrain was struggling to soothe itself without the weight of his body on yours. You were unmoored.

This morning was no different – you’d come home late, past midnight, tiptoeing up the stairs and slipping under the covers as gently as possible, knowing he had an early start. You were tired to the bone anyway, your knees aching from hours upon hours striding up and down hospital corridors.

You could sleep in, at least, until 10 AM the next morning. It was the one solace as you drifted off, pushing yourself against Joel’s back and winding your hands around his chest. All of this work the both of you were doing was for your future, for yours and his and Sarah’s. Within a year you should have scraped up enough for a deposit on a house. It would be worth it, even if you ached for him.

Your phone woke you, and you cracked an eye to try and gauge the time. You determined it to be half-past too early. You let it ring out. If it was important they’d leave a message.

A minute later it rang again and you fumbled for it on your bedside table just to silence it, seeing as you lifted it that it was Joel. A little scalpel of panic sliced at your insides. He never called twice unless it was important, and never during the day. What if he’d had an accident? What if he was hurt?

‘Joel?’ you asked, your voice cotton and sandpaper.

‘Hey, baby,’ he said, his voice calm, gruff, maybe a little frayed around the edges.

‘What’s happening, are you OK?’

‘M’fine, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry ya.’

‘Y’never call twice,’ you muttered, settling back down against your pillow, your eyes closing of their own volition.

‘I needed my girl,’ he said, and you noticed his tone, then, the darkness in it. You let out a little shiver, wrapped up warm and tight in your bed.

‘What are you playin’ at, Joel Miller?’ you asked, and you heard him hum in response.

‘I’m bored at work, baby,’ he said, and you could hear that he was pouting.

‘Surely you can find yourself something to do,’ you said.

‘S’why I’m callin’,’ he replied.

‘Something productive,’ you clarified, and you listened to him huff out a little laugh.

‘Baby?’ he said, his voice back down to burnt honey and salted caramel.

‘Mmm?’ you asked.

‘I wanna watch you play with it.’

Your eyes shot open, gasping. You felt the tangle of want in your belly, little tendrils reaching down your thighs to tug, tease, at your cunt.

‘Joel!’ you scolded, and you heard him snicker. ‘Aren’t you on site?’

‘Found m’self a little quiet place, out of the way.’

You didn’t respond, thoughts obliterated as your traitorous mind replayed his words on repeat in your head.  Wanna watch you play with it. Wanna watch you play with it.

‘I’m in the truck, baby,’ he said. ‘Parked way down the back. No one can see, no one can hear.’

You felt the tension in your shoulders release, slightly, but your heart was still racing and you supposed it wasn’t going to stop. Not while you could hear him gearing up to destroy you without even being in the same suburb.

‘She droolin’ for me?’ he asked, his voice gravelly and you could hear the way his breath was shaking, knew that his own pulse was thrumming so hard in his neck it was making it hard for him to breathe out the words to you.

You squirmed, rubbing your thighs together under the sheets. He knew, of course he knew the fucking filthy old man, that you were almost permanently wet for him.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said, and you heard him groan a little, snuffle it down with a bite to his lip.

‘Fuck, baby, been thinkin’ about you all morning. Woke up with you wrapped around me like a fuckin’ koala bear, took all my strength not to roll you over and fuck up into you while you were dreamin’.’

You gasped again, struggling to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. Joel was so stoic, used his words so carefully in real life, that you could hardly believe your luck when you got him into the bedroom for the first time and he let loose the filthiest stream of consciousness you’d ever heard. He bathed you in his dirty little fantasies, doused you in his furious want for you.

‘Can I see her?’ he asked, and suddenly you were shy.

‘Just woke up, Joel,’ you said in protest, reaching up to smooth your hair without even thinking of it.

‘Love it best first thing,’ he said, ‘when you’re all warm and soft and pliant, let me do whatever I want to ya, keep those sweet warm thighs wrapped around my ears… or my cock buried deep in that sweet little cunt of yours and have you too sleepy to tell me to quit it.’

‘Mmm…quit it,’ you said, stretching, and he snickered.

‘Too late, baby, want you too bad.’

You liked him like this, although you’d never tell him that. Liked him a little bit needy, a little bit cunt drunk, wanting you so bad he had to pull his car out back and see to himself. You sighed. You were going to do it for him, you were always going to do it for him, but sometimes you had to put up a fight just for the appearance of the thing.

‘Please, baby,’ he said, and his words were punctuated with little breathy sighs, now.

‘Wanna see you too,’ you said, bargaining, stalling for time and not sure why.

You heard his voice grow distant as he pulled the phone away from his ear, and you did the same, waiting for facetime to connect.

You held your breath, holding the phone above your face as his ancient phone camera adjusted.

Then there he was, those beautiful brown eyes you could never say to, so soulful and kind and currently blown wide with want. His hair was scruffy like he’d been tugging at it. You giggled a little when you saw him, genuinely pleased.

‘Hey baby,’ he said, grinning at you, and you watched as his dimples emerged.

‘Hi,’ you said, suddenly shy, burying half of your face in your arm.

‘My beautiful girl,’ he muttered as he gazed at you through the phone screen. ‘I’m missing you, baby.’

You nodded, humming your agreement. ‘Miss you too,’ you said.

‘She missin’ me?’ You blushed, your core pulsing the moment he came on the screen. You nodded again. ‘Show me, please, baby,’ he implored. You could never refuse him.

He waited, his eyes bright and watchful, as you positioned yourself onto your back, angling the phone to travel down your body; first the tips of your straining nipples against the light cotton of your singlet (he whimpered at this, especially as you reached down and tweaked one a little), then lifting the cotton to reveal your belly, softening in the years you had known him but confident that he loved it just the same (he cooed at it, and you thought you heard him inform your belly he wanted to nip it and then kiss it better when he got home), then down a little further, your other hand now trailing along with the lens, to the aching heat of your core (you heard his sharp intake of breath as your pussy came into view, still covered by your panties, where the gusset was darkening with your slick. ‘There she is, fuck…’ he trailed off, and you felt your clit throb at the heat in it).

‘Let me have a little peak,’ he said, his voice reverberating around your empty bedroom as it shot out of the speaker on your phone. ‘Somethin’ to get me through the day.’

You giggled, pulling hard on your underwear so that the cotton stretched over your lips, outlining them perfectly for him as he groaned. You ran your fingers over the cotton, pushing and pulling at your lips, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him.

‘You hard for me, Joel?’ you asked, and you heard his guttural ‘uh-huh’ in response. You slipped a finger under the leg of your panties, pulling them to the side so he could inspect the pink, the slick, of your folds.

‘Oh fuck, baby,’ he said, ‘such a good girl for me.’

You preened under his praise, your clit throbbing as you fought to control your breath, determined not to let him know what he was doing to you, not to let him win. Instead, you pulled your phone back up to your face, grinning at him.

‘Hey, where’d she go?’ he asked, and you laughed.

‘You know exactly where she is.’

‘Want to see her, baby, please,’ he said again, whining now, and you saw his shoulder moving slowly, the flex of his bicep just within view of the camera.

‘Show me what you’re doing to yourself, Joel Miller,’ you said, and he grinned at you, busted. His cheeks were pink, and he was starting to glisten from sweat. You wanted to lick it off him, take the salt of him into your body.

He angled his own phone down, so that you could see he was palming himself through his jeans. He let out a little gasp at one particularly hard tug.

‘Take it out,’ you said, and he tutted, raising the camera back to his face.

‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,’ he said, and you were up on your knees in an instant, swivelling to prop the phone up against the head of the bed, balancing on a pillow, as you reared back and slipped your underwear from your skin.

You watched as he freed himself, his belt moving aside so he could reach into his pants and pull himself out over his waistband. You felt more slick gather at the top of your thighs as you gazed at it, thick and large and with a vein on the underside you loved to rub along your tongue.

‘Play with it,’ he said, and you hated that you couldn’t gaze at his cock and his face at the same time, resolved to settle for the current view for now, as beads of precum gathered at the tip. You watched as he ran his fist over the shaft, leaving the head. You knew how sensitive it was, that when you sucked on it as you pulled, gently, at his balls he couldn’t help himself but to buck himself up into your throat, grunting your name as though you would bestow him mercy. You hadn’t, yet.

‘With this?’ you asked, teasing your fingers along your glistening cunt, avoiding your clit because you were already too close, wanted to prolong it, see how crazy you could make him.

‘Fuck yeah you know with that,’ he said, his irritation real and adorable, and you grinned.

‘Tell me how,’ you said, feeling your cheeks go hot and remembering that only recently had you built up the guts to tell him you loved it the most when he encouraged you, instructed you, talked you through it.

‘Run your fingers along the outside, gather up the slick,’ he said, and you did, shivering a little both at his words and the gravelly tinge to his voice. You could see his hand trembling as he held himself, the way his cock was flexing, throbbing, for more. ‘Run your fingertip over ya little clit, tight little circles… but not too hard,’ he said, and you groaned when you touched yourself there, your stomach clenching and nearly pitching you forward, the pleasure shooting down into your legs and up into your chest. ‘Nuh uh, too hard,’ he said, and you released the pressure a little. You realised he was going to punish you for teasing him. You realised you were going to let him.

‘She feelin’ good, baby?’

‘Mmhmm’ you breathed, nodding, momentarily incapable of words.

‘I want to watch her stretch,’ he said, and you opened one eye to see that he was now tugging at himself, pulling at the skin of his cock, drooling precum and using it to lubricate the head. He was grunting a little, his breath catching as he fought to keep talking. You smiled to yourself.

‘With my hands?’ you asked, feigning innocence even as you sank down further on your knees so he could get a better view.

‘Just give her one finger f’now, don’t wanna scare her,’ he said, and you nodded. ‘She’s so tight, baby, need to be gentle with my precious little pussy.’

You gasped, rolling your head back to the ceiling as though Jesus himself might save you.

‘Oh, I want it,’ you sighed, not sure what ‘it’ even was.

‘I know, baby, I know,’ he cooed, soothing you even as he tortured you by proxy. ‘Slide one inside, let that little cunt gobble it all up, that’s the way.’ You bucked again, riding your own finger, as you whined. ‘Rub that clit baby, make it easy on her.’

You took your other hand and kept the tight little circles on your clit, whimpering all the same. You raised your eyes to him, realising now he had placed the phone on the dash so you could see his face, the naked heat in his gaze as he watched you, and you gasped at the sight of him, your cunt clenching on your fingers as a bolt of want shot through you at the sight of him.

‘Joel…’ you whimpered, called for him, and his brows furrowed.

‘I know, baby, but you can do it,’ he said, and you keened, speeding up on your clit.

‘It hurts, I want you so bad,’ you complained, and you saw the grin start to emerge on his face before he schooled it, pulled it back down to faux concern for your predicament.

‘My poor girl,’ he said, nodding at you as you saw his shoulder flex, watched as he licked at his lips, trying to stave it off so that he could continue to torture you. ‘Give her one more, let that greedy little cunt have what she wants.’

You could feel tears prickling the back of your eyes, the ache for him in your chest nearly as strong as the ache for him in your core, and you slid another finger in without any resistance, your slick leaking out to pool in your waiting palm.

‘S’good baby?’ he asked, and you nodded, then shook your head, then nodded again.

‘S’better when it’s you,’ you answered, honestly, trying to hook your fingers forward like Joel did but not having the length, not having the angle.

‘Imagine I’m right there behind ya, baby,’ he said, and even as he said it you felt heat bloom on your back. You rolled your head back again, as if his imaginary shoulder could hold it. You were dimly aware that you were swivelling your hips, fucking yourself down onto your hands, as you imagined Joel’s delicious, throbbing cock poking at the small of your back.

You could feel every nerve ending from the tips of your toes to the edge of your tongue singing for him, the sparks combining with the throb of need in your cunt. You couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stay still, set on fire by the heat of it.

‘Look at me,’ he grunted, but you couldn’t, couldn’t coordinate your movements, couldn’t crack open your eyes, drowning in it, feeling the pull of it slip over your nose and mouth. ‘Look at me while you play with it,’ he said again, louder and a little meaner this time, and you felt yourself react almost purely on instinct, snapping to attention.

He was panting, his own hips shifting as he tugged at himself, sweat gathering now at his brow, the sides of his forehead wet. He was jutting out his bottom lip, jaw flexing as he bared his teeth to you, trying hard to stave off the pleasure while simultaneously being driven mad by it.

‘Look what that sweet little cunt does to me,’ he said, his voice dangerous now, low enough that you found yourself holding your breath. ‘You seein’ this, baby?’

You nodded, almost wanting to apologise for how thoroughly you had deranged him.

‘Such a good girl,’ he praised again, and you felt a shudder of your hips. ‘Can she take one more?’ he asked, and you nodded, without hesitation. He had done that to you, had made you so wet and so wanting, your cunt pounding so soundly now, that you would take anything he instructed you to give yourself. ‘Do it,’ he grunted, and you did, a third finger sliding in to greet the others, a yelp of beautiful agony leaving your lips.

‘Fuck…’ you muttered, breathless, winded with the pleasure. ‘I can’t…’

‘Yes you can, baby, doin’ so good,’ he said, and you were losing yourself to it now, could feel the momentum, that you were nearing the point of no return, that you wouldn’t be able to pull your fingers from your needy, stretched little pussy until you’d come on them, until Joel had made you come.

You tried to bark out a warning, that you were getting too close, that it was about to sweep you away, except that when you opened your eyes to look at him you saw that he was right there with you, that he was sucking in great billows of air to steady himself, that he was panting and sweating and gasping your name, calling for you, his head rocking backwards to the headrest of his truck, overcome by the want for you, only to immediately swing forward again to watch you, to stare at your hands between your thighs on his phone screen, his hard, bulging cock in his hands, ready to burst.

‘Oh!’ you gasped, when you saw the state he was in, and his eyes snapped from your cunt to your face.

‘I know, I know,’ he repeated, fighting for air, ‘I know, I know, I know….’

‘May I?’ you asked, as though you would have been able to hold back, as though you had a choice, and he nodded, releasing you from the torment. You felt it speed up, the peak rising up to meet you, the backdraft scorching a path through your core as it caught you, and you came, hollering for him, whimpering and huffing, shocked at the intensity of it, at the way it obliterated you, whited you out, the sound of Joel’s twin cries nearly drowned by it.

--

At some point you had collapsed, falling from your knees to your belly on the bed. You could hear Joel, buried somewhere under the pillows, whimpering as he came down from his high, and when you had recovered the strength you fished the phone out and brought it back to your face. He sat, his head thrown back in his truck, as he gathered himself.

‘Christ on a cracker,’ he said, and you giggled. It had been too long. You wanted to do it again.

‘You OK, honey?’ you asked, and you heard him huff out a laugh.

‘Made a damn mess of m’self,’ he said, and you giggled again, little fizzing joy finding your chest. You felt lighter, not having realised how heavy the burden of missing him had been.

‘You got a towel or anything?’ you asked, and he rolled his eyes.

‘No, I don’t have a towel. Didn’t expect to be doing that this morning.’

‘You didn’t plan it?’ you asked, incredulous.

‘Just got overcome,’ he said, his dimples re-emerging as he looked at you, bashful, through the phone.

‘Mmmm,’ you agreed, feeling somewhat overcome yourself.

‘What time’s your shift start tonight?’ he asked, and you felt reality encroach ever so slightly on your happiness.

‘Start my shift at 5,’ you said, and he nodded. You could see the crease in his brow as he concentrated.

‘Fuck it,’ he said, having apparently come to a decision. You watched as he reached forward, turning the engine over, and heard the truck roar to life. ‘Don’t move a muscle,’ he said, putting the truck into gear and reversing out of the lot.

‘Joel, what are you doing?’ you asked, laughing a little at the look of pure determination on his face.

‘You stay right there,’ he said to you, winding down the window and calling out – presumably to his boss – that he was feelin’ poorly and needed to head home.

‘Joel, you can’t leave in the middle of the day,’ you said, and you saw his smile as he totally ignored you.

‘Be there in fifteen minutes,’ he said, pausing for a second to gather his thoughts. ‘You got to play with it,’ he said, picking up the phone and preparing to hang up so he could drive. ‘Now it’s my turn.’

[barleyo]

Rural Bliss.

Real Dad! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: You, as a reader, are responsible for your own media consumption. It is up to you to read the tags that I have provided and determine whether or not this is a piece of writing that you would like to partake in. If not, scroll on by, if you do, please enjoy! Remember, I am not responsible for any discomfort you feel if you choose to read this.

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), dub-con, oral (f receiving), LARGE AGE GAP (18 and 40+), pwp (light plot), mentions of predatory behavior, mutual creepiness, dark and disturbing content, choppy ass writing

Wordcount: 1.8k

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

Your mom had finally done it. She found a halfway decent guy and let him wife her up faster than you could say 'I do.' You weren't exactly mad about it. He was a decent enough guy, and he made your mom happy, so whatever. The only part that you were against was the fact that you would be staying with your estranged father for the rest of your summer until your mom and her boy-toy got back from their extensive honeymoon.

Your dad fucked off pretty quickly after you were born. Moved himself far away into the middle of nowhere, not once reaching out or keeping in touch. A small part of you wanted to know him, but a larger part of you was pissed that you would have to now temporarily live with a man who you could just barely remember the name of. 

What was it again? Leonard? Lucas? No, no, that's not right. Leon? Yeah, something like that. Leon. 

Leon, the man who left you and your mom. The man who, instead of raising you, decided to lick his wounds in the deep country, likely making a meager living off of growing potatoes and carrots. The man who was a stranger, connected to you only by blood. 

The man whose front porch you were currently standing on, banging on his door without a care in the world. You looked around while you knocked. It was a large bit of land. A few neighbors nearby, but not within spitting distance. At the very least, this town had a few stores with maybe a few people your age lingering around them. 

"I'm coming, damn it!" His steps were loud, you could hear them from all the way outside. The heaviness of his work boots must've weighed him down quite a bit. The screen door flew open and his face softened. "Oh, hey kid. Didn't know you'd be here so early. Come in." 

You followed him inside, letting your eyes trail his face and frame. You'd only seen a picture or two of him before. He wasn't quite what you were expecting. He looked a lot older now than he did in the photos. More tired, less lively. His crow's feet and smile lines stuck out, but if the lonely, uncomfortable vibe of his house was any clue, you assumed he hadn't been smiling much in his life. 

He wasn't bad looking, though. Time hasn't weathered him, and you could tell he took care of himself. His arms and chest looked strong, clearly he had found some way to stay fit out in his desolate chunk of farmer-country. You could see why your mom picked him. He looked like a good one, despite his fleeting nature. 

"You're gonna be stayin' for a few months, yeah?" Leon didn't seem uncomfortable with your presence, so you felt a bit more calm.

"Yeah, I guess so. Mom didn't really give me all the details, just kinda sprung it on me."

"Believe me, I know," he said under his breath. "Well, this place isn't much, 'm sure it's not what you're used to." He locked the door behind you and flashed an apologetic look. 

"It's fine. I'll make it work." You looked around. It looked lived in, strangely worn despite nobody else ever living there.

He led you down a dimly lit hallway, the floorboards groaning beneath their weight, until they reached a single room. It was a small bedroom, adorned with faded wallpaper and completely wooden furniture. The single window offered a glimpse of the bare, green landscape outside. 

"This'll be your room. You can unpack your things."

Hardly a week passed by and you were already sick to death of living with your dad. His jokes were bad. His cooking was shit. His attempts at bonding with you were creepy at best and damn near-assault at worst. He let his hands drift all over you when he pulled you in for hugs and tried pecking a kiss on your mouth before you went off to bed each night, and damn it, you let him.

Again and again, every night, letting that old man press his chapped lips against yours, holding back your urge to force your tongue into his mouth.

He bought you gifts that no other fathers would think about getting their daughters. Skimpy little clothes that left nothing to the imagination, while he wrote it off by claiming ignorance.

"That's what girls your age wear, right? I can't keep up with what you kids are into," Leon would say, covering his ass with feigned dopiness. 

His only redeeming quality was that he was hot and mostly oblivious. It was fucked up to think about it that way, but without having much other male contact during your stay, Leon was starting to becoming quite the piece of eye candy. The best part is that he thought nothing of it, acting like his teenaged daughter spending hours staring at his half-naked, sweaty body while he worked in the hot sun was normal. Just another day. Nothing special. 

He didn't make you work on the farm with him, so you got to do all the watching. You got to see those strong arms lift hay bales for the horses and chop trees for firewood. Most of your days were spent watching him from the front porch, mentally cursing yourself out when you felt your thighs clench together instinctually at his sexy movements. 

What was wrong with you? 

Were years of fatherlessness finally catching up to you? Couldn't muster any real love for the old man, so sexual yearning was the next best thing? Eye-fucking your dad and sharing touches that lasted too long were the cost of him skipping out on you.

You rationalized it the best you could. Maybe you didn't actually want him, maybe the solitude of the countryside was getting to you. Maybe there was something in the air, some kind of sex-pollen floating in the breeze that made you wanna get bent over by a man twice your age that just so happened to be related to you. Closely related.

Leon didn't really know how to treat a woman well, but he tried his best with you. It was his first time really being a dad, but honestly, he hated it. Being a 'dad' sucked, especially when he'd rather have his daughter as his girlfriend. 

You made him so frustrated, so unsure of himself. Leon's only experience with girl's your age was in getting them liquor they couldn't legally buy themselves, fucking them like plastic sex dolls, and leaving them for someone else to woo and screw. 

He couldn't quite do that to you, though. He couldn't get you drunk and take advantage of you, pumping and dumping in you without a care about your pleasure. He had to take care of you, your health and comfort. All he really wanted was to take care of your body.

You were his little girl. He'd fuck you like he actually gave a damn about you if he ever got the chance, and he most definitely wouldn't be leaving you for anyone else.

That type of thinking brought him here. 

"Daddy, please..."

The walls in his house were too damn thin. He could practically hear each thrust of your fingers into your cunt from his bedroom. Your bed screeched agonizingly against the floors, punctuating your moans and hisses of pleasure. 

He saw his opportunity and took it. He had waited long enough, and this was the least he could do, right? You needed him, right? Right.

He pushed your door open, not having the decency nor the self-restraint to knock. You felt your body go still, but kept your hands between your legs. 

"If you needed me, coulda told me. Don't like t'hear you in here whining." Leon sat on the edge of your bed, crawling his way between your legs. "Fuck, that's pretty." 

He took in the sight of your fingers stuffed into your pudgy cunt, slick dripping between each digit. 

"No, you're—! this isn't what it—" you tried prying your fingers out, but a strong hand wrapped around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Isn't what it looks like? How about what it sounds like, huh? Sounds like you want your daddy to dull that ache in you." 

He was so far gone. He normally never did this. Leon was a man who took. He took younger girls virginity, mouth, pussy, or other. He was the one that got sucked off and got his perv dick wet. But for his baby? You, the little nymph who fell gracefully into his grasp? He was foaming at the mouth for a chance to slurp your pussy.

"Open up, come on. Got nothin' to be shy about," he urged, forcing your legs open, pulling your fingers out, and shimmying closer to you. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

That was somewhat of a lie. Sure, he saw pussies all the time when he bullied his cock into them, but he was normally never nose to clit, ready to lick.

He stuck his needy tongue out, lapping up the juices that you worked up when you rubbed yourself raw. He swirled around you clit as a test, trying to see what felt good for you. He soon settled on puckering his lips around your bud and sucking, swapping his spit in and out of his mouth to keep you lubed up. 

Your voice broke with hushed whines and chants. Yes's and oh's rang out, filling Leon's ears and his ego. 

He pulled his head back and lob a wad of spit onto your clit, chuckling when you shivered. 

"Feel good?" His thumb traced your clit in little figure eights. 

"Mm, s'good." Your hands trailed through his thick, soft hair. You gripped it tightly, pulling his head back to your cunt. "No, don't stop, jus' need your mouth again."

His sharp, strong nose bumped against the top of your pussy while he munched down on you greedily. His tongue traveled around you in an indecisive manner. One moment, he was using flat strokes to lick on your swollen nub, then pointing his tongue while he fucked it in and out of you. 

Despite the sporadic nature of it, the warmth and wetness of the contact of his mouth on you felt like heaven. It didn't matter what he was doing, as long as he was looking up at you with his piercing eyes and swallowing down your slick, you were satisfied.

"Dad, oh my God, yes!" It felt like venom coming off of your tongue when you moaned it, but tasted like honey at the same time. Something about it was so wrong, but felt so natural.

As your legs tightened around Leon's head and trapped him between your thighs, you knew it was meant to be. You were meant to be your daddy's princess. You were meant to feel like mouth on you, to be spoiled by his tongue, words, money, and his cock. You had been missing out on it for so long. 

You spent the rest of your summer making up for lost time, discovering just what having a daddy was meant to feel like.

[imperator-kahlo]

OK what even is happening with the Crows

I’ve just been trawling through the wiki and World of Thedas for a few hours trying to figure out what we (a) know, (b) can guess, (c) can speculate wildly about the inner workings of the Crows during the Dragon age.

(I am by no means an expert on the lore so please let me know where I have wildly missed the mark).

I'm definitely not trying to propose any kind of fanon consensus, where's the fun in that?! Just trying to figure out a timeline that makes sense to me. Possibly also toying around with a pre-canon Rookanis fic.

Loooong and probably insanely disorganised text post under the cut. I should have been in bed hours ago but I am hyperfixating on this and will not sleep until I hit post.

Spoilers, so many spoilers below: Veilguard, Tevinter Nights, The Silent Grove, Origins, Awakenings, the entire franchise basically.

So, a speculative timeline. Events in black are fairly or very well supported by the lore; events in blue are inconsistent/uncertain in the lore; events in purple are guesses that I can sort of back up; events in red are me throwing a dartboard at the wall.

Note: The wiki puts the events of "Eight Little Talons" in 9:44 Dragon, but I can't find any source for that. I would have guessed a little later, but let's roll with 9:44.

Also, I'm pretty unclear on the guildmaster/grandmaster distinction. I'm just going to say 'head of house' for whoever is in charge of a Crow house, or Talon if they're head of one of the eight Talon Houses.

Blessed Age

8:70 Blessed - Caterina born (she's described as well into her 70s during Eight Little Talons and as around 80 in the data-mined character descriptions for Veilguard, so give or take a couple years this seems right).

9:00 to 9:29 Dragon: House Arainai Shenanigans

9:00 Dragon - Antivan civil war, beginning of the "much maligned" Three Queens era (Codex, History of Kirkwall - Chapter 4). Unclear exactly what happens or over what period of time, but seems like the Crows would be in the thick of things.

9:05 - 9:10 - Caterina maybe reaches Talon status (not First, though). Around 8:98 Blessed would be the absolute earliest she could get there given Teia's holds the record (youngest Talon at 28). But I think Teia was at least three or four years younger than any previous Talon so I'd put it somewhere around here, if not a few years later.

9:12 Dragon - Zevran, aged 7, is purchased from a Rialto brothel by House Arainai. The House is led by First Talon Talav Arainai and described as rolling in coin after the "Three Brides" contract - they purchase 17 other slaves that year, including Taliesen (World of Thedas, vol 2, p. 96). I think based purely on vibes that House Arainai is fairly secure in First Talon position and has been there at least a couple years, probably longer.

9:15ish Dragon - Teia born (she's described as 28 in the data-mined descriptions, but she's already a Talon in 'Eight Little Talons', which says she was the youngest ever to reach the rank at age 28. I'm assuming she got there a year or two before the events of the story. See 9:17.

9:16 Dragon - whoops, sometime over the last four years it all went to shit for Talav Arainai! The House dropped to Second Talon, and he was executed in 9:16 after trying to take back the seat of First. Isadora Arainai takes over, and the House hangs on as Second Talon... for now. Rinna joins House Arainai and immediately works well with Zevran and Taliesen under the mentorship of Eoman Arainai (World of Thedas, vol 2, p. 96). This would be the earliest that Caterina could reach First Talon, but I'm not sure I'd put it this early. I think the latest she could possible reach First would be 9:25ish based on my guesses about House Velardo (see below).

9:17 Dragon - Lucanis born (described as 36 in the data-mined character descriptions. I know I threw out those descriptions for Teia, but I think we can be pretty certain Lucanis is mid thirties).

9:17 Dragon - Teia born. I was going back through Eight Little Talons and my initial read was wrong. Teia is 28 during the events of the story.

9:24 Dragon - House Arainai, having the sort of shitty luck they absolutely deserve, falls entirely out of the rank of Talons when Second Talon Isadora dies. They wallow amongst the cuchillos (minor houses) for a few years (World of Thedas, vol 2, p. 96).

9:22 - 9:27 - House Velardo attempts to usurp First Talon from House Dellamorte? The resulting war kills all of Caterina's children and grandchildren, save Lucanis and Illario. My reasoning here is this: Lucanis says he and Illario would have ended up with Caterina to train, but being orphaned sent them to her younger than anticipated. Zevran was purchased at age 7, so we know Crow training, at least for House Arainai slaves, begins very young. Perhaps the non-slave children of influential house leaders start later, but I would guess not much. So I'm assuming they end up with Caterina sometime between ages 5 and 10?

9:25 Dragon - King Maric is thought lost at sea, but is in reality being held by Third Talon Claudio Valisti in a Crow prison on behalf of a Tevinter Magister, Aurielion Titus.

Side note: I had the same reaction to finding out the Crows have a super-fun torture prison as I did to finding out Weisshaupt has dungeons. Just... why? That feels like mission creep? Does the assassin skill set at all overlap with the prison guard skill set?

9:26 - 9:28 - Eoman takes over as head of House Arainai. He eliminates House Ferragani, which was Eighth Talon, thus clearing the way for Arainai to claw its way back into power. Unfortunately, he needs the support of Third Talon Claudio Valisti to take over the position. Valisti wants Rinna Arainai dead (cult / royal bastard reasons) and Eoman tricks Zevran and Taliesen, her lovers, into doing it. This was a very stupid decision (WoT vol 2, p. 96).

9:30 to 9:43 Dragon: Zevran's Revenge

9:30 Dragon - Zevran, depressed and angry about Rinna's death, bids for the contract on the Warden's life. House Arainai is said to have accepted this contract because they believed Loghain to be the best person to defeat the blight (WoT vol 2, p. 96).

Side note: This sort of, if you squint, reconciles the contract on the Warden's life in 9:30 with the memento found in Veilguard that says the Crows had treaties with the Wardens to fight the "next blight". But also they tried to kill the Warden-Commander in Awakenings, too. I guess one could argue a new blight was unlikely so soon but like. Come on, guys. Is your word to the Wardens worth anything or not?

9:31 - 9:34 - If Zevran survived, he comes back from Ferelden with a spring in his step and murder in his heart (and possibly a Warden on his arm) and wreaks absolute havoc on House Arainai. Eoman is first to go, then like half a dozen more of their top people. The House loses Eighth Talon and falls once more into obscurity. The Crows call Zevran (or an unnamed assassin if Zevran is dead) the "Black Shadow" and speculate that he has allies among the cuchillos (WoT vol 2, p. 96).

9:34 - 9:43 - Where the fuck is Zevran?

9:37 Dragon - Corypheus is freed (Legacy DLC). The Venatori will start to be a thing in the next few years, so Lucanis is going to pick up his nickname between now and, say 9:50 Dragon. I'd put it between 9:45 and 9:49 because of vibes (and because he talks about not immediately specialising in mages. Crows get started very young, but I dunno. I see him starting on mages in his mid twenties because, again, vibes.)

9:38 - 9:40 - Events of The Silent Grove (comic - I haven't read it in a while but I'm throwing it in here for complete-ish-ness). Alistair, Varric and Isabela break into the Crow archive and Velabanchel prison (which side note is a totally heinous operation). Isabela kills Claudio Valisti (Third Talon passes to Ezio Valisti). This, for me, raises the question again: Where the fuck is Zevran (sob). Valisti was implicated in Rinna's death, so either Zevran never found out or he couldn't get to Valisti while he was cleaning house.

9:44 Dragon - Ongoing: We're Entering Our Freedom-Fighter Era

9:44 Dragon - The events of 'Eight Little Talons'. Briefly: Caterina calls all the Talons together to plan for the imminent invasion of the Antaam, but a whole bunch of murder happens. Turns out that Fourth Talon Emil Kortez made deal with the Antaam and was trying to wipe out the Crows' leadership. He was killed by the survivors and Viago suggests--correctly, I think--that Caterina will wipe out the whole house.

The following Talons are killed but it seems like their houses will probably retain their status, with somebody else taking over as Talon:

Dante Balazar, Second

Lera Valisti, Third

Giuli Arainai, Eighth (having only just managed to lift that fucking house back up to Talonship, shame lol)

In addition to Caterina, Viago, and Teia, Sixth Talon Nero Bolivar survives, but he um, isn't much help. I would guess that Caterina, in a pretty strong alliance with Viago and Teia and with all the other Talons being new, might fuck his shit up and try to get someone more solid in before the Antaam invade?

9:44 - ongoing - WHERE THE FUCK IS ZEVRAN???? He can't have taken control of any of the eight Talon houses, because he's not at the summit in 'Eight Little Talons'-- and however much he damaged House Arainai, they've clawed back some power by 9:44. Is there a breakaway faction of cuchillo houses that Caterina won't even dignify with an acknowledgment? Is he not interested in any kind of Crow power and is just fucking shit up for them - we can assume House Valisti has had a lock on Third Talon since at least 9:28 (Claudio or Ezio Valisti pop up periodically in this position), and my guess is House de Riva have held Fifth a decent period of time, but as far as I can tell we know nothing about Second, Fourth, Sixth and Seventh Talon Houses in this period. So maybe Zev is toppling houses left, right and centre? Seems like that sort of instability might have changed Caterina's approach in 'Eight Little Talons', though...

9:51 - Lucanis imprisoned in the Ossuary.

9:51 - Antaam invasion of Antiva, starting with Treviso. The Antaam rebellion begins in 9:44 and is ongoing; the failure of Kortez in 9:44 delayed the invasion somewhat. I wouldn't have thought it would delay it this much, but I'm pretty sure that it happened while Lucanis was imprisoned, right? So since we free him in 9:52 after a year in the Ossuary, the invasion must have been delayed until 9:51? Maybe very late 9:50?

"Conclusions"

(I haven't read the comics in a bit and I know there's some Crow stuff that goes down in there beyond the Silent Grove... but as best I recall its just Teia and Viago running into Varric and Harding, and some stuff setting up Solas and the Antaam. Please let me know if I'm mistaken!)

I think it's safe to say the Crows are in chaos for pretty much the entire first half of the Dragon age: Arainai are causing chaos from 9:16 to 9:25, then they pass the torch to Velardo, whose war against House Dellamorte must have lasted a few years if it wiped out almost all of Caterina's family. Zevran is on a murder spree at least between 9:31 and 9:34, and possibly (much) longer depending on your headcanon.

After, at very best, a decade's peace, 9:44 sees the plot to wipe out the Crow leadership, which fails but does kill half the Talons and lead to the elimination of at least one, maybe two of the Talon Houses. Half a decade after that the Antaam invades.

I've been completely on board with the critiques of Veilguard's portrayal of the Crows, but I think writing it all out like this has helped me reconcile things a little bit? This is a deeply chaotic network of feuding families, and no single Talon is going to have the secure political power to make sweeping changes. Which isn't to say the child abuse that was definitely still occuring in Houses Dellamorte and de Riva during Rook and Lucanis' childhoods is just fine. But it makes more sense to me now that Houses Dellamorte, de Riva and Cantori could have wildly different ideas about slavery and torture prisons than, say Houses Arainai and Valisti--and have extremely limited power to shift the culture of competing Houses. Even the First Talon's position is deeply precarious.

Whew. Good night!

(Just realised as I was tagging that I haven't slotted The Wigmaker Job in anywhere. I thiiiiink Viago mentions in 'Eight Little Talons' that Lucanis is currently in Tevinter for a job, maybe a sly reference to Wigmaker? But I cannot possibly get sucked in any deeper, my dog is losing her entire mind at me STILL being at the computer.)

***

Waking up and editing to add: At some point in her time as a Talon (probably First but I guess maybe not?), Caterina wiped out another house so completely that Teia doesn't even recognise the name, Gaspari, when Viago mentions it in 'Eight Little Talons'. Given House Velardo was the one that made a play for First Talon, this is a whole 'nother big intra-Crows conflict that slots in somewhere on this timeline. Caterina is ruthless, y'all.

***

Editing again a few days later to report that I was flicking through WoT and spotted a WHOLE-ASS ENTRY on Claudio Valisti that I’d managed to miss. I was… not happy. I’m begging you BioWare, no more information. I cannot reconcile it.

Anyway. World of Thedas, vol 2, p 44, has Claudio Valisti taking over from his father as Eighth Talon in 9:34, quickly getting the house to Sixth Talon and appearing to be going places. This appears to contradict p. 96 of the same, which has a Third Talon Claudio Valisti helping House Arainai in 9:28, as described above.

I thought very carefully about tearing the page out, burning it, and forgetting I ever knew this particular piece of lore.

Instead I have decided fuck it, we have a father-son pair here. Senior helped out Arainai in 9:28. His house later fell to Eighth (in my incredibly unwieldy and underdeveloped headcanon this is partly because helping Arainai really pissed off Caterina). Claudio Senior dies in 9:34, Claudio Junior inherits. By the time Junior dies to Isabela in 9:38-40 he’s got the house properly back on track, so the loss of a leader doesn’t destabilise them too badly.

Ezio Valisti is Third Talon in 9:41, according to the Winter Palace announcer in Inquisition, and the house still holds the third seat in 9:44.

(Also edited Teia’s birth year from 9:15 to 9:17; I misread Eight Little Talons. She’s 28 during the events of the story.)

[these-posts-arent-real]

warrior cats dash sim anyone?

#no canon characters #sorray guys thats too much #im just gonna do some made up dudes

0 notes

🔲 yourfave-tunnel-guy-deactivat

Guys I hate tunnellers. Lmao.

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

By StarClan, I hate this mindset. Tunnellers are such an underappreciated part of WindClan society. Just because we don't do as much running or typical hunting doesn't make us less valuable than you. Op and cats like him are so stupid.

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

Crow-food-worth reading comprehension lmao. It was satire (the url clearly states "tunnel.") Also, her*

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

Ok I see where that was probably satire (OP should have made that more clear though) Where are you getting "her" from though lmao. OP's url is "yourfave-tunnel-guy"

🌻 l1llyst3m Follow

I'm getting "her" because I'm OP. This is my new account. I'm trans. Hope this helps.

#i said so in the tags of the last addition #but as i said. crow-food-worth reading comprehension #prev probably didnt even read my tags lmao

2,209 notes

🌾 barncat-vibes Follow

I am goingto fucking kill Jadestar. Lmao.

🌾 barncat-vibes Follow

WRONG BLOG

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

Clanblr user barncat-vibes is from rc confirmed??

🏞 trouttail-prefers-bass Follow

Haha I already knew that, I'm mutuals with them on their main, plus we're IRL friends. Forgot that wasn't common knowledge.

🐱 berrrrry-o Follow

tbh I always assumed they were wc since thats the clan closest 2 the barns...

🪵 i-eat-moss Follow

Uh sorry ar ewe just glossing over how @barncat-vibes and @trouttail-prefers-bass are IRLS???!!!!?

#mutuals i can understand since they have the same ideas on like #social justice stuff... they both post trans stuff sometimes #but #IRLS? #SOMEONE is fucking with me #i met trouttail once at a gathering #nice dude #suuuper weird to imagine him knowing barncat-vibes

27 notes

🌅 kit-names-inspo Follow

I've decided to make a full post on this, since I've noticed this issue a lot lately. So let me make this clear:

I am NOT comfortable with "transgender" cats using my name suggestions to pick out new names. The service I provide is to help queens who have or are having kits, not confused males who think they're mollies.

STOP using my blog for your delusions.

🌅 kit-names-inspo Follow

Go ahead and unfollow me. I didn't want you 200 transgenders on my blog anyway.

🛤 carnation-stem-02 Follow

Anyone else find it funny how after this post OP lost 200+ followers? Anyone?

Anyway for a better source of names for trans mollies, toms & enbies, @name-lists-by-theme has much better names, sorted much more cleanly, AND she's not a transphobe.

#trans #fuck transphobia #fuck transphobes #fuck terfs #<- kit-names-inspo is a self-proclaimed radfem&terf btw

17,092 notes

🔁 🐍xviper-the-fagx reblogged

🤍 snwtl Follow

I can't believe we're being told to "normalize" cats becoming kittypets now. Do you have any idea how many cats would just abandon their families if it became socially acceptable to run off and live with the twolegs???

🍲 ex-thundrclan-kipper Follow

Honestly (as someone who left the Clans because I had a mate in the twolegplace), I haven't seen this to be as true as you're saying. I've seen one cat who "abandoned" his family to become a kittypet, if you count his abusive ex-partner, but for the most part, the cats we leave behind are understanding and okay with the fact that we have to move on. I wasn't meant for warrior life, and I left it, and I'm happier for it.

🤍 snwtl Follow

The fact that you would even imply it's okay to abandon your family for a life as a kittypet only serves to prove my point. You make me sick.

🪺 robbbinpaw Follow

Crow-food-worth reading comprehension

#yeah #snwtl (snowtail i think?) needs to use their eyes lmao #starclan this place gets on my last nerve #thinking of taking a break from clanblr because of shit like this

847 notes

🌱 dirtdigger-23 Follow

Uhh... where am I. My dash looks weird...

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Why do some of us not *hate* Tamlin?

I am pro-tamlin, not pro feylin. I would prefer Tamlin to never have to deal with the NC ever again. If SJM never types his name out again I will be happy.

Tw: light mentions to DV, SA, and Divorce.

Feyre is written in a way that makes it feel like she is intentionally manipulating us against Tamlin to justify her leaving him the way she did, and to put Rhysand up on a pedestal.

The abrupt and sloppy way SJM handled Tamlins' character assassination induced my fight or flight. Let me explain:

My parents divorced when I was 4, and I had to learn, quickly, how to interpret people's true intentions and empathize with where they are coming from vs just blindly listening to someones account of what happened. My father got custody of us and would use the same elements against my mom that Feyre uses against Tamlin. I HAVE to read between the lines or I would fall to the intentional manipulation.

"She left me so she probably cheated" "he trapped me in the house" "she has a new boyfriend so she doesn't care about you anymore" "he hit me [when I was actively TRYING to get him to hit me to sway public opinion of him]"

Everytime Feyre left for the NC, she did so kicking and screaming. Every indication Tamlin could see was that she did NOT want to go with Rhys, until he gets a letter from her saying to not come looking for her that she doesn't want to be with him. Tamlin didn't know she could read or write. Had that been my love I would assume it was a ransom note too, written by someone else. Had she actually spent 1 hr winnowing to Tamlin, tell him face to face, then winnow back (with an escort) he MIGHT have gotten the hint.

A tithe was a weird thing to use to show how cruel Tamlin is, considering how 2/3 of the night court live in constant fear, children's bones are broken for misbehaving, the CoN are trapped there. SJM really showed us that she has no political knowledge what so ever. I barely started ACOFAS and when Feyres talking about the unnatural sum of her money, my first thought is "You don't amass that level of wealth without oppressing someone." Lucien said that Tamlin would be expected to hunt down those not able to pay the tithe, but when we get to Tamlins actual actions he just said "get it together in 3 days or pay double next time". In my initial reading, I interpreted it as another mask (like how Rhysand acts). Tamlin does this due to tradition, he is expected to act a certain way, but *I felt* he had no intention of acting out what he said. It was just a line he was expected to say to send the wraith away without others expecting the same.

Feyre and Tamlin were not right for eachother because they were not eachothers mates. People can exist fine separately, and be incredibly toxic together. From page 1 we see Feyres inherent inability to empathize with anyone, she has it bad, she has to hunt, therefore her sisters don't do anything. But she also can't cook, so who was preparing the meat she brought home? It gave me "housework isn't real work" vibes. Feyre also doesn't communicate very well, which would explain why a literal mind reader was able to help her better than Tamlin was. I saw Tamlin trying but not being able to help her because he couldn't read her mind.

Feyre didn't want to be trapped in a manor for a few hours while she was displaying manic behavior, but she condoned her sisters be trapped in the HOW for 6 weeks immediately after losing their lives. She condones the treatment of the people in Hewn city and supports the literal Jim Crow laws placed against them in Velaris when all they wanted was to leave. She condones and supports trapping Nesta in HoW after the war just to force Cassain on her so Feyre can play matchmaker.

Feyre is an inherently self centered sociopath. She can read minds and still can't develop a shred of empathy.

Just leave Tamlin alone. Damn.

[starlightrosa]

Battleships

Summary: Charlie and Angel are playing a game of Battleships. But not with pen and paper. More like marker pens, and ticklish backs as their papers. Just so happens that these ticklish backs are property of Lucifer and Alastor.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Tickling, swearing, Angel Dust's unique humour, a bit of depressing talk concerning Alastor's mum (Alastor do be a mama's boy and he big sad) but mostly fluff <3

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day in the Hazbin Hotel, and there was a very obvious mood of mischief. Ticklish mischief, to put it much more obviously. There seemed to be tickle fights breaking out every hour between Charlie and Vaggie, Niffty was running round and tormenting whichever unlucky soul was within reach with her feather duster, and even Husk was sneaking in a few underarm tickles whenever Angel Dust was too close to the bar.

It was driving two certain people in the hotel up the wall, but for two very different reasons.

Lucifer was one of the affected. He had woken up craving to be held. Or cuddled. Or tickled. Hell, the king had no idea what he wanted relating to specifics. But damn it, if he didn’t get some form of human touch in the next three minutes, then the world was going to end.

Alastor was the second affected by the ticklish mischief ravaging the halls of this rinky-dink hotel. But Alastor thought this playtime was silly. It’s Hell, who spends their afterlife trying to tickle someone else, where every day was utter torment and suffering punctuated by the wails of the eternally damned and the screams of tortured souls? That was a background noise Alastor preferred, to see lost souls drown in an ocean of failure.

But the radio demon could not dwell on his preferences. He would be busy soon, for that charming Charlie had planned a little board game tournament of sorts in an effort to build trust among the hotel patrons. A silly idea, but Alastor didn’t think there was any benefit to crushing the princess’s feelings, so he kept schtum for now.

The crazy tickling vibes from earlier seemed to have petered out. Yet in the hotel’s lobby, Angel Dust and Charlie were locked in a fierce game of something Charlie called ‘Battleship’. Their hastily drawn paper grids and pencils lay in wait, the pencils pointed at each other like military-grade weapons.

“E6.” came Charlie’s voice. Angel laughed, picking up a blue marker and putting a big ‘X’ on that coordinate.

“Missed again, twinkletoes.” Angel crowed.

“Shit. Your go.” Charlie said, waiting for Angel’s guess. The alluring arachnid sinner thought for a bit, before making his guess.

“A4.” Angel guessed. And if the loud groan from Charlie hinted anything, seems Angel had scored a point, or did something right. Alastor wasn’t quite sure how this game worked.

“Ugh, fuck! Hit.” Charlie groaned, picking up a red marker and blotting it with a crimson ‘X’. Angel pumped one of his many fists in the air, no doubt in a victorious manner, or for a quick bragging right. One of the two.

“Hot damn. I am unbeatable at this game!” the spider crowed, looking much too pleased with himself. Alastor rather thought that this game, while simple, did indeed look a bit fun. Not as fun as actually destroying something, but… close enough. And it wasn’t just the radio demon who had heard this game. Lucifer knew what Battleship was. But he didn’t dare come down, for fear of making his obvious lee mood even more obvious, and the markers Charlie and Angel were both using was sure to drive Lucifer crazy with want.

But the princess and spider sinner had seen the way both had been acting. Lucifer’s shaky and nervous demeanour, compared with Alastor trying to be aloof and uncaring like always in an effort to mask his curiosity at the game they were playing was a rather funny thing to see indeed. And Charlie made this known to Angel, with both setting up for their next game, fresh sheets of paper and newly sharpened pencils at the ready for their grids.

“We should get my dad and Alastor in on this game, Angel. I think they’d enjoy it.” Charlie whispered quietly, the princess barely masking a smile of her own. She wasn’t stupid; she knew the tells of her father in a lee mood, namely because she did mostly the same thing when she was in one herself, from the nervous glances at wiggling hands to refusing to look at anything that could even be vaguely considered as a tickle tool.

“Oh yeah? Good idea, Princess. Your dad would go for it, but how the hell are we going to get Alastor in? Does he even know this game?” Angel asked.

“I think Vaggie and me having all those tickle fights has… kind of made my dad want something similar, if he hasn’t been wanting to be tickled since he woke up. Alastor is always smiling, but he needs a genuine smile. So here’s my plan…” the princess said, highlighting the fun parts, while Angel listened carefully.

“We’re gonna make them our game boards. You and me, Battleships. Red marks for hit, blue marks for miss. I know my dad has a ticklish back. I don’t know for Alastor. I know he’s ticklish, but he would never say where. So let’s have some fun with this.” Charlie giggled. Angel had a hint of mischief in his own mismatched eyes. This was going to be entertaining.

Late afternoon soon gave way to evening, and as the moon came up into the crimson sky of Pride, the pentagram sun descending down for another day’s end, Alastor and Lucifer finally came into the hotel’s game room, seeing paper and pens dotted about. Alastor sent a barely disguised joyful look at Lucifer’s muffled whine, seeing so many markers strewn over the room.

“Ah! There you guys are. We’re just about to get started. Me and Angel are gonna play Battleships.” Charlie explained, gesturing to them both to sit on the floor, which both men did happily. Lucifer watched Charlie draw her grid, while Alastor was on Team Angel, watching the spider scribble his own grid.

“Why do we need to be witnesses for this? This seems just like a two-player duel.” Alastor pointed out. His question did have merit, and Charlie barely concealed a laugh as she quickly screwed her paper up and tackled Lucifer to the floor. Before Alastor could even laugh at the daughter of the king taking down the monarch so fucking easily, a similar weight slammed into the radio demon’s own back. Alastor gasped and fell forward, twisting his head quickly to see what the fuck had happened, only to see Angel’s grinning face above him. Oh, those cheeky little shits.

“Angel, what is the meaning of this?!” Alastor demanded, doing his best to wriggle. But his demands were silenced, because with a brisk snap of Charlie’s slender fingers, golden rope twisted gently around Alastor and Lucifer’s wrists, tugging both pairs of hands up and out of the way.

“Sorry, Smiles. Me and Princess Charlie are gonna play our game of Battleship. You and FancyPants over there get to be our game boards, so yay for you guys~!” Angel explained, a wide smirk on the spider’s features as he took a seat on the back of Alastor’s thighs, Charlie doing the same with her father.

Both Charlie and Angel worked to quickly pull the jacket off each of them, and rolled their shirts up, exposing the skin underneath. Lucifer’s porcelain-white back awaited Charlie, the king already shivering with barely-repressed laughter, and Alastor’s scarred back was presented to Angel.

So many scars, hot damn. Angel traced a couple of the thicker ones absentmindedly, to a choked back snort from Alastor. Well, this was not how the Radio Demon expected the night to go. One could definitely confirm that this was NOT on the bingo card.

“Hah, ya sound like Fat Nuggets.” Angel teased, referencing his beloved pet pig, smirking down at Alastor.

“Oh shut up- Mmph!” Alastor began to demand, but he snapped his mouth shut as he felt the cold tip of a marker gently trace on his back. From what he could feel, Angel seemed to be drawing a grid of sorts. Charlie seemed to be doing the same, and judging from the noises opposite, Lucifer was already giggling and doing his best not to squirm.

“Oh, you got a ticklish back, do ya Smiley? Shit, how the hell are you gonna last this game?” Angel laughed.

“I ahaham gohoing to dehestroy yohohou ahand thehen-!” Alastor threatened, but his threat was cut off by a shrill squeal from Lucifer, and then rapid pounding as the king’s boots hit the floor rapidly, the king giggling freely. Alastor knew his back to be fairly ticklish, but by the sounds of it, Lucifer’s had to be far worse. The thought of that almost made him feel bad for the king. Almost.

Charlie and Angel rested their markers down on each side of their ‘game boards’. Red and blue, one on each side. Both Lucifer and Alastor’s backs were drawn on to mimic a Battleships grid, from letters A to J, and numbers 1 to 10.

“You’re goin’ down, princess.” Angel laughed. Charlie sent a mischief-laced smile back his way to the spider sinner.

“In your dreams, Dust.”

And with the fighting words out of the way, the game officially began. Charlie had the first call, at Angel’s insistence. Or as Angel put it, “Ladies first and all that shit.”

“C3.”

Angel located the spot – at the top left side of Alastor’s back. He poked softly, and pinched a few times. No reaction from the Radio Demon, not even a wobbling smirk. With a disappointed tut, he picked his blue marker and drew an ‘X’ into that spot on Alastor’s back.

“Miss. In return… F2.”

Charlie nodded, finding that spot – top middle of her father’s back, at the top of his spine. She pinched that spot and poked softly. Lucifer gasped and broke into squeaky giggles. Because his hands were tied up, as were Alastor’s, the king nor the radio demon could even dream of moving.

“Hit! Nice, Angel.” Charlie smiled, picking up her red marker and drawing a red ‘X’ into that spot. “My go. Umm… I’ll say H9.”

Angel nodded and looked down at Alastor, noticing the eternal smile now had some kind of nervous look to it. Angel pinched at the annotated spot on Alastor’s back, enjoying the radio demon struggle under the spider.

“Damn, nice shot Princess!” Angel laughed. “Looks like he’s ticklish as fuck here.”

“Angel, I’ll kihihill yohoHOU! Stohohohahap ihihit!” Alastor tittered, squirming side to side. Angel Dust couldn’t help but laugh, grabbing the scruff of Alastor’s collared shirt to avoid being tossed off.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m on one of those bucking bulls in the bars downtown.” Angel joked, steadying himself atop Alastor’s back with a few ruthless side squeezes before the demon could get a chance to throw him off.

“AH! Ahahangel, I’m gohohoing to rihihip yohohour tongue ohohout!”

“Stop laughing first, Smiles.” Angel shot back. “Oh wait. Ya can’t, cause you’re too ticklish~!”

“Alastor, you aren’t in a position to make threats anyway.” Charlie teased, as she awaited Angel’s next guess.

“Let’s go for D1.” the spider guessed. Charlie found the spot quite easily, anyway, unleashing another series of quick fire pokes. Sadly, nothing from Lucifer despite the huge lee mood that plagued the king.

“A-Ah… oh good, I’m okay.” Lucifer whispered, shoving down his smile.

“Missed, Angel.” Charlie said.

“Ah, fuck. Well, if I missed him, I gotta kiss him. Pucker up, Daddy Morningstar~” Angel joked, enjoying Alastor’s muffled snickering and Lucifer’s panicked babbling at that idea.

“I don’t think my mother would appreciate that, Angel.” Charlie laughed, the melody of laughter in the room bringing a huge smile to her face. It was nice to see everyone enjoy themselves. “My go. So let’s try one spot up. H8.”

“Real original.” Angel joked with a playful eye-roll, even as he moved one square up and pinched and poked that spot on Alastor’s back. Alastor couldn’t help it, and a deer’s squeaking noise left his mouth.

“Nice, Charlie. Hit!” Angel announced, drawing a red ‘X’ into that spot on Alastor’s back, which Alastor would argue tickled more than the actual poking bit itself. And the fact that Angel was very slow in drawing the crosses themselves just made everything that much more maddening.

Lucifer and Alastor would never admit it, but both men were actually having some semblance of fun. Lucifer was happy his daughter involved him in this game, even if it was at his expense.

Alastor did enjoy the fun and mischief this place offered. In a way, this was probably something his mother would have done, had they both been still alive. Alastor’s heart ached painfully at the thought she was in Heaven and he couldn’t see her, or talk to her, or to be held in her arms a final time.

By the time this fierce round of Battleships ended, both Lucifer and Alastor’s backs were covered in a plethora of red and blue crosses. Alastor had red dotting both his top and lower back, and blue in the middle.

Lucifer had many more red crosses, and only a smattering of blue marks over his obviously very ticklish back. Both men were panting slightly by the time the game was finally over.

“Well, this was fun.” Charlie smiled. Angel nodded.

“Aw hell yeah, toots. We have to do this again.” Angel smiled.

Alastor was quick to loudly protest. “NO!! Not again, I forbid it and-!”

But a series of skittering fingers along his upper back shut the radio demon down quickly, and Alastor was floored, his normally reserved laughter giving way to squeaky giggling. Oddly adorable.

“Round two, Angel~?” Charlie asked with a smirk. Angel’s mischievous grin clawed its way back onto his face.

“You read my mind, Princess.” Angel responded sweetly, both princess and sinner looking at Lucifer and Alastor with a shared evil grin. And after the necessary cleaning time to wipe the grid off Lucifer and Alastor’s backs (only for the grid to be drawn back on each of them) the laughter from the hotel carried on well into the wee hours of the morning, the battleship duels between Charlie and Angel Dust raging on.

The End!

[artemx746]

I just read the first Nevermoor book and I really liked it! So b4 I go into Wundersmith, here are some of my thoughts (spoilers for the first book ahead, go read it)

I love the entire vibe of this book, I’m not sure how to describe it but there’s something about everything that just really appeals to me

[nearly every character] my beloved

Every scene with Jupiter and Mog makes me ill, the only reason Jupiter was away so often was because Jessica Townsend knew it would kill me if there were any more /j

Related to the last point: i require at least one (1) forehead kiss from Jupiter to Mog

Fuck Corvus Crow. All my homies hate Corvus Crow.

Hawthorne's a fun guy, it feels nice that he and Mog aren't shoehorned into a romantic subplot. Low bar but I'm tired of the first character of the opposite gender of mc and mc's age being forced into a romance

Mog and Jacks fighting is 100 percent accurate for cousins. Like it's concerningly similar to how my sister and our older cousin would've acted around each other when she was Mog's age

I love Ezra's vibes, like yes b call yourself a god in front of this little girl while you're in disguise. Horrible person? yes. Vibes? Immaculate

Tangentially related, my brain knew Ezra Squall was probably evil but I fully thought Mr. Jones was just in love with him which I find so funny now

Cadence is very fascinating to me, I want to study her in lab /pos

Listen I’m not saying Mog should’ve taken Ezra’s offer but I am very curious what would happen if she did

unfortunately I am having a mental battle trying to decide whether Ezra or Jupiter is my fav oops

[suzukiblu]

For wip Wednesday Love the vibes of “weird Kryptonian bonding rituals” especially if it’s superfam

. . . I am just gonna blame the fact that I haven't really worked on this WIP in a minute for how "write you three sentences" turned into "write you 1k", cough cough.

Clark gets into Superman's suit and leaves the Daily Planet building at inadvisable speed, probably, but manages not to break the sound barrier anywhere too obvious, he thinks. He follows the sound of that thrumming heartbeat and voice, and finds himself blocks and blocks away, hovering in the air a few hundred feet above a food truck being operated by a woman with dark skin and bright pink hair in her mid-twenties, and the single customer standing on the sidewalk in front of it as assorted civilians pass by in one's and two's.

The single customer is the thrumming heartbeat's owner, and he's about fifteen or sixteen, with pale skin and dark curly hair and bright and eager and inhumanly blue eyes behind a pair of round sunglasses. He's wearing a loose-fitting black leather jacket and heavy black boots and a tight bodysuit, all blue and black and red and yellow and with the exact same "S" on its chest as the one Clark's wearing himself.

The kid looks up, takes one look at Clark, and absolutely lights up.

Clark feels several very new and strange feelings, then charges straight down into the kid and sends them both skidding into the empty street. Hitting him, touching him, is like . . .

Clark barely even remembers to be careful, but the instinct is ingrained too deep to ignore even as they crash into the pavement together.

And then the kid laughs delightedly and throws him off.

Actually throws him.

Clark comes to a stop twenty feet up in the air, blinks down at the kid still beaming up at him, and then bolts back down and smashes him into the pavement again.

"Shit!" the food truck worker shrieks in alarm. "Don't hurt him, Superman, he's just a kid!"

Clark . . . pauses, then looks up from said kid that he is currently pinning into the street as he struggles underneath him.

"'Hurt him'?" he asks in reflexive confusion, and then realizes how batting a teenager around like a person-shaped cat toy and pinning him to the street hard enough to crack it probably actually looks to an outside observer.

. . . um.

Whoops.

"Um," he starts awkwardly, and then the kid slips his pin while he's distracted and throws his arms around his neck with a gleeful laugh and a bright grin.

"Dad!" he crows triumphantly, and hugs Clark harder than literally anyone has ever hugged him before, except maybe, like, Ivo in the fullest and most vicious version of his Parasite suit while trying to crush him to death. It's . . . kind of adorable. Although also Clark can't really breathe very well now. "I found you! Hi, hi, I totally found you!"

"You did," Clark agrees reflexively and slightly out-of-breath-ly, patting the kid's back as he shoots the food truck worker and the several other staring civilians back on the sidewalk all an apologetic smile. "Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to worry you. We're just playing."

"Oh my god so there was this lab and these doctors and they were all such jerks so I maybe kinda just broke everything and I guess maybe that was bad but they all sucked and they deserved it, I promise, I hope they all lost all their data and their personal files and their customization settings when I smashed up their stupid computers and stuff," the kid half-rants, hanging off Clark like a super-strong but also undeniably floating koala, and Clark straightens up and pats his back again as he listens to his excited and also-adorable ramblings. The way the kid talks actually reminds him of a much younger kid, oddly–even younger than Flip and the rest of the newskids, despite his appearance–but that doesn't exactly hurt the "adorable" impression. "Also there were some really annoying guys who were bothering the way cool chick in the truck over there so I threw them in a dumpster but did you know chili fries were a thing because they are so good, seriously, you should get some!"

"Are you asking me to buy you more chili fries, kid?" Clark asks wryly, and the kid somehow finds a way to perk up even more.

"I mean, no, but if you wanna . . ." he mentions, grinning hopefully.

"Two orders of chili fries please, ma'am?" Clark requests, sparing the food truck worker another smile. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Yesssss," the kid cackles delightedly, hanging heavier off his neck again as he somehow actually manages to hug him tighter. The food truck worker stares at them both for a moment, then reaches for an empty fry basket.

"Uh, sure," she says slowly. "No problem. Uh. Sorry, Superman, but do you . . . have a kid? Is that, like . . . what's happening here?"

"Yes," Clark replies reflexively, patting the kid's head.

. . . wait, that's not–

Then the kid beams at him again and nope, never mind, apparently that is right, he guesses he's just a dad now. Oh no, he and Jimmy are gonna need a bigger apartment, and Clark really hates apartment-hunting and doesn't even know how he's gonna afford his half of a bigger apartment, though at least he knows Jimmy can after selling Flamebird so he guesses that's something, and besides, what, is he gonna make his kid sleep on the couch? No way. The kid can have his bunk, heck, he'll sleep on the couch 'til they can sign a new lease or something. At least he's not an intern anymore, that's been a bit of a financial improvement, so that'll help.

". . . well okay then," the food truck worker says. "How do you even age, are you–um. I'm just . . . gonna make those both double orders, then. No charge. Congrats on, uh . . . congrats? Like, fifteen years late, apparently, but congrats."

"Thank you," Clark replies politely, smiling at her again as he walks over to her truck, the kid still happily hanging/floating off him. "We can pay, though, that's really not necessary."

"Dude. My dad would literally fire me if I ever made Superman pay for freaking chili fries," she says feelingly. "Like. Fire me so hard. Unto our family's next three generations, would he fire me."

"Thank you," Clark repeats, still smiling at her, then pulls a couple of twenties out of his belt and tucks them into her tip jar. Only seems decent, he thinks.

"Oh my god how are you even real," the food truck worker mumbles under her breath as she drops both double-orders of fries into the fryer.

[the-dragon-girl-27]

Remember those other 3 times I turned sekai characters into dinos (L/N MMJ VBS) I'm back with more of that crap i know Wanshow fans just looove their AUs so maybe this will appeal to a whole 3 people instead of 2 people this time

explanation for my picks below the cut

Tsukasa is a Styracosaurus because I made Saki a Stellosaurus which is another ceratopsian and also its frill is like vaguely star shaped kinda sorta not really

I don't have much to say about him so can i just mention how awful that Stellasaurus drawing is.

Yeah only recently did i start figuring out how the fuck to draw decent ceratopsians I am so sorry (the struggle is real i almost accidentally gave tsukasa 2 left feet here i swear i know what i'm doing)

I should redo that Saki at some point, girl deserves so much better than that wonkey crap. speaking of ceratopsians i opted out of giving him protofeathers unlike Saki idk they just didn't look right on him you can kinda go either way with most ceratopsians so i just do it when the vibe fits and don't when the vibe doesn't fit

Rui is a Troodon because Troodons are often associated with intelligence because they have the biggest brain to skull ratio of any dino, there's kinda no real way to know how intelligent dinos were but troodon just has the reputation of the smart dinosaur and people often depict them using tools like how crows do and that's like kinda like how rui does robot stuff, he also just fits the raptor shape sorta i feel like raptors have that sorta look to them that is like a similar vibe to the one Rui has, even tho Rui is the tallest character in sekai I feel like he's a mid sized dinosaur, does that make sense? no, but it does to me and i make the rules he's also 100% a feathered dino so it fits

Speaking of Troodon all you 2 paleo nerds reading this are getting war flashbacks from the name Troodon because Troodon itself has a interesting history of being a "wastebasket taxon" which is nerd talk for "scientists just threw a bunch of vaguely similar animals into this one category and didn't consider that maybe this was like 5 different animals and what would be the long term consequences of doing that" yes this is a thing that has happened enough times that there is a word for it

that shit still as of now isn't sorted out I don't think, I at least based my Troodon off the big one from Alaska that literally does not have a fucking name and is just like "the Alaska Troodon". I feel like the size fits and imma be real its the Troodon you see everywhere in media these days because its big and cool and it lived with Pachyrhinosaurus and Nanuqsaurus and also people like it cuz drawing dinosaurs in the snow is fucking awesome (boom i just tricked you into learning paleontology history)

Emu is an Archeopteryx because Emu is supposed to be like a phoenix and Archeopteryx could probably fly or glide or smth it's general considered like "the first bird" so like yeah (now that i think about it i could've made her pyroraptor cuz of the name but also she doesn't fit the vibes of a raptor at all i guess pyroraptor has the whole fire bird thing from its name) Emu would also be a small feathered dinosaur for sure so it fits in that sense too.

Nene is a Stegosaurus because the plates kinda look like her hair thing and her outfit in general and i feel like nene would have those tail spikes for some reason idk it just fits her energy, she'd def be a herbivore as well i feel. Also i personally just associate stegosaurus with the color green personally idk why (at first i was thinking she would be iguanodon because that's another dinosaur that's green in my head but she has like nothing in common with iguanodon lmao)

I guess nenerobo would be an Ankylosaurus than because that would like probably be the logical robot version of a stegosaurus maybe idk would nenerobo exist in this universe, you decide idk

i guess next one is that last one unless i wanna redo the vocaloids in this style or redraw saki at some point or whatever see you whenever that happens in however long it takes

[writersblockedx]

The Things we do

Pairing - Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader Summary - When Kaz finds out a rivial gang has taken you hostage, he'll stop at nothing to find you again. Warnings - Angst, violence, torture, wounds, blood, hurt/comfort vibe Words - 2.8K

Masterlist

Kaz didn't know where you were. And, even worse, neither did you.

What you did know however: your head was pounding, the room was dark and you were tied to a chair. Your head dragged up, blood trickling from your cut lip as you faced your captor. She was a mean face. Her eyes flooded with fury that you doubted ever left and she bred the sense of vex with every step she took. If anyone was to be a psycho kidnapper, it would have been her.

"Y/n Y/l/n." A voice called your name like it was illegal, like it was something to be dragged through the dirt.

Your captor took a step back, revealing the man who was sitting in the chair behind her. In no way was he rough around the edges like the girl was. In fact, he wore a suit to fit, his lips moulded into something he seemed to use as a weapon. And despite her cut lip and likely bruised features, her head tilted and she pushed her luck. "Nice to know you know, because I've got no idea who you are." Maybe had you not just been kidnapped, you might have been more composed.

The man stood and she felt herself lean as far back in her chair as she was able. "It doesn't matter who I am." He said; his voice so monotone for the context of the situation. "I just need to know about you."

You weren't so sure where this was headed. Your mind was still trying to catch up with the punches you had just endured, attempting to understand where you were and how you were in fact going to get out of it. "Me?" You reiterated, flashing some puppy dog eyes you knew weren't going to work. But it was worth a try in this situation.

He nodded and then a word slipped from his lips. Just one word and that was all you needed to know you were in the shit now. "Crow." Them puppy dog eyes slipped away as easily as they had settled. Suddenly, you came to realise the severity of the situation and you questioned if you would be able to get out of it. The suit man looked over to the captor, nodding his head as if giving a silent command.

Like that, just as he turned his back and started walking away, a fist came flying. The knuckles of the woman's palm cracked against your cheeks with a thud. You had groaned but didn't dare say a word. You glanced back up at her through the lingering bruises. "Are the rest of you crows at the crow club?"

"Why do you want to know?" You should have known where speaking back was going to get you.

Just as quickly as them words had left your lips, another punch came crashing at your jaw. And you struggled with that one. It erupted a groan as you settled within the pain that plagued you. "What about Kaz? He's the boss right?" She continued to interrogate.

You gazed over at her through stern, mean eyes. "You can punch me till I'm bloody, I'm not telling you anything."

This time, a punch didn't follow. Instead, you watched as the woman wandered around the chair you were glued to. She walked over to a side table, retrieving a small box. It wasn't until she opened the box that you grew nervous. There were several tools. Many of them rusty and blunt but in the hand of your kidnapper, still rather painful. She took one of the bluntest knives, one that had rusted so much it was burnt and brown. With that in hand, she wandered around once again.

"Anything you went to get off your chest now?" Asked the woman.

You could feel your breath itch in your throat, feeling her shadow hover right over your shoulder. It was daunting but didn't stop you as you quipped back, "Do your worse." And she certainly did.

She took the blade. At first, it brushed over the prickles of your skin, then, within a flash, you felt it jab into your shoulder. With that, you let out a piercing scream. The metal seeming to have shot so deep into your body it felt as if it were scraping against your bone. You didn't have to look to know it was bleeding. By the time the weapon had dug into your skin, the blood was dripping down towards your elbow.

The woman took a firm grip over the blade. With every single, slight touch it was painful. Just the brush of her fingers against the metal had felt agonising. So when she took a hold of it, a groan escaped your lips. She leaned over the bleeding shoulder, "You're gonna tell me what I need to know." Her voice was a whisper but it felt deafening in your ear.

Your breath was uneven and, just as you were about to catch it, she shoved the blade down further. Another scream erupted from your lips. This one louder and much more of an echo. And once more, she leaned over your shoulder, "Where does Kaz keep the money?"

Once you let out a sigh, you looked over at her, "I'm not telling you." You were stern in your words even if everything in your body already wanted to give in.

This was what being a crow was. It was criminal. It was getting beating up and getting bloody, but it was dealing with that. And so you would. At least, you would try. Because when she even grasped the metal, you were regretting your decisions. "Wait, wait!" She stopped; so did the pain. You took a breath, trying to gather your thoughts that the pain had cut through. "Please..." You couldn't imagine anything worse than another touch from that blade.

She asked the same question: "Where does Kaz keep the money?"

A long moment followed. One in which you knew you were going to give in, even if it killed you to betray Kaz like that. Your fellow crow, your boss, the man who had took you in when you had nothing. "There's a safe. It's under his desk in the office. The office is upstairs in the crow club." Like it was nothing, you spilled everything.

"See," She paused and in one swift movement, tore the knife from your skin. Another scream erupted. But it was the last one you would have to endure. "Wasn't that difficult, was it?" She had no idea what you were in for with Kaz now. "Now, when's this office left empty?"

You knew this plan was so this gang could get their sticky fingers on Kaz's money. And maybe you should have cared more to not spill all this information considering Kaz paid your wage. But alas, the fear of the pain was seeming to pull the words from your lips, "When there's-"

You didn't know why or what had happened at first, only that your kidnapper had fallen right in front of you. Then you spotted the knife in her back. You almost couldn't believe it at first. Well, not until your head snapped up to figure that was wandering from the doorway. "Inej?" The woman removed the scarf that masked her face as she rushed forward without another word.

She went around straight away, her hands reaching out and untying the rope which bound you. "Where is she?" Came another voice which boomed through the building. A wave of guilt passed you as you came to recognise the voice: Kaz.

"In here!" Replied Inej.

And like that, the man came through. His eyes pooled with sympathy, completely unaware of how you had just betrayed him. Not that he had noticed. In that moment, Kaz had never felt such relief. Over the period you had been lost, he hadn't felt himself breathe. He sent Inej and Jesper left, right and centre until finally, they got a hit. A rival gang that barely hand enough bullets to take down the three of them. He couldn't care who had taken you. It could have been the king himself and he would have still swug through battlefields, explored every inch of this world, whatever it took just so it could get to you.

Now, with your eyes interwinding with his, he rushed to you. Inej had only just let the rope fall from your body and it was suddenly being engulfed by Kaz. At first, it had shocked you. Then you soon settled into the comfort which was ever so familiar. With your head situated on his shoulder, your gaze glanced to the doorway, finding Jesper stood there. He too just as relieved, taking in the sight of his boss and his friend tangled within the comfort of one another. Jesper knew that Kaz needed that hug just as much as you - if not more so.

When he pulled away, you were met with that worrisome gaze which seemed to devour you. "Can you stand?" Kaz questioned.

And while you couldn't exactly give him a reply, you nodded and that was enough. His hands came around, taking a hold of your own as he helped you to your feet. He guided you towards the exit, not daring to let his touch fall. About half way there, you both stopped. There came the sound of a thud from behind you. It wasn't until you turned, finding that Inej had pulled her knife from your captor's back that you came to realise why. Of course she taken her knife back. No one chose to comment. Instead, you found that it was normal and continued walking, following Jesper.

By the time you made it home, the Crow Club was empty. It wasn't until later that you would come to realise Kaz had closed the club, needing the empty space to focus on finding you. Something he was thankful for now he had you in his arms.

Once you got home, Jesper pulled a chair up for you, forcing you to sit down as he tended to the wound plaguing your shoulder. Inej was sat on a table across from you, sharpening a knife while Kaz was standing behind you. And for a moment, it was all silent. All their attention was focused on you and the wound which was buried deep into your skin. Yes, it felt as bad as it looked. "You sure you're okay?" Inquired Jesper as he pulled your shirt down for easier access.

You didn't bare look at any of them, knowing the pity you were likely to receive. "I'll be fine, Jesper." You replied without much emotion in your tone.

Jesper gave a concerned look to the man standing behind you. Something of which you had missed, too busy replying the memory of the knife in your shoulder to take note. "Okay, okay." Jesper said. "But just know," He paused as he gathered his needle and thread, "This isn't going to be pretty."

You didn't look to him as you answered, "Just clean it up, will you?" You weren't so much in the mood for Jesper's playful mood like you normally were. "I don't want an infection and a stab wound."

And like that, Jesper's lips stayed sealed as he gathered his items, staring at the wound as he attempted the best way to tackle it without hurting you so much. "What were they asking you?" Inej spoke up as her head lifted to meet yours. "Did you tell them anything?" That question made you wince.

Jesper scoffed, "It doesn't matter anyway, you killed em'." He did make a good point there, something you were silently thankful for.

"And by the looks of things," At the sound of Kaz's voice, you finally turned, meeting his gaze which seemed attached to the wound sitting on your shoulder. "You didn't tell them anything either."

Had it not been for the groan that came with the needle making contact with your shoulder, you might have said. Instead, you sucked in a breath before letting out a, "Jesper." in a snap.

"Sorry," He apologised. "I did say its not gonna be pretty." And with that, he started to thread you skin back together like it were clay.

"Do you know who it was?" Inej continued to interrogate.

You thought on it for a moment but with your pounding head, you couldn't come up with much. "No." You said first. "He wore a suit like he was trying to be more fancy than he was."

"That's it?" Critiqued Jesper from behind you, his snooty tone prompting you to gaze over at him. "He was too fancy for a suit? That's what you gathered?"

Your glare turned deathly, "I was a bit preoccupied with the fact they kept punching and threatening me...obviously." You agrued.

"Careful," Said Jesper. "Don't forget whose holding this needle." The small prick of metal glistened in his hand before your eyes rolled, turning back around.

"So we have no idea who these people are." Kaz concluded as his gaze jumped from you, something which had only enhanced that ever-heavy feeling of guilt which burdened you.

A loud exhale, almost loud enough to be classed as a sigh, came from Inej, "Suppose it's a good thing you didn't tell them anything the-"

"Ouch!" Your voice shot through the club.

All eyes came to you and your burning stare that was being pointed at Jesper. He had slipped. Only the smallest of bits but still, you had snapped at him like that. And what was worse, your anger didn't die down. Instead, you stood abruptly, tearing the needle from further patching up your wound. "Y/n-" Kaz started but you were already walking away.

And without even looking back at him, you said, "I'm fine." And continued on, eager for some privacy where the guilt of spilling your guts didn't linger.

You escaped into your room, taking in the air like it was fresh, like it wasn't intoxicated like the rest of the club was. The room was lonely, and it was empty, free of anyones opinion and judgement. With tears pricking your pupils, you wandered over to the mirror. Your shoulder took all your attention. Sure, Jesper had sewed up about half of it but the wound was still sharp and deep into your skin. It's edges ridgid and screaming to be tended to.

With a huff, you pulled your t-shirt back up, groaning at the pain which came with the contact. And you continued on with shakey legs and even shakier breath as if you could continue on. You soon came to realise it wouldn't be that easy.

The door clicked open and you tensed, suddenly appreciating your back was facing the door. The tears were easily about to slip from your eyes and that was something no one needed to see. "I told you I was fine." You said, sucking in a sharp breath that you preyed gave you the air you needed to not let those tears fall.

"You're not meant to be." Only then did you come to realise the intruder in your room was none other than Kaz Brekker. And his voice was enough to prompt you to turn, meeting his soft features which made you weak. "Whatever you went through, it was always going to be painful."

He had no idea what was truly the cause of your pain. "I've been beaten before Kaz." You argued.

He took a cautious step into the room, knowing you could force him out at any given moment. "None of us expect you to be okay, this wasn't just any normal beating, Y/n." He went on, providing comfort which would normally be accepted. But considering he didn't know the full story, it was a struggle to accept it.

Until, in a rushed decision, you gambled your whole relationship with Kaz. "I don't care that they hurt me, that they punched, stabbed, bled me like I was a doll. I couldn't get less." That part was true. "But I just- I had to."

Kaz's brows knitted, "Had to what?" He queried.

"I had to tell them." Like that, the words hung in the air. "I had to tell them everything." The tears finally started slipping until they were streaming down your cheeks.

The moment Kaz caught sight of that, he rushed over. And just as needy as before, he engulfed your body into his own. "Hey, it's okay." He assured. "All that matters is that you're safe."

[thornswoggled]

yori is fumiki and heres why: my manifesto

or: wait, we werent all on the same page about this?

i should have written this when i first read chapter 98, but im only getting around to it now. this is less me trying to convince you, the reader, and more hoarding all my collected thoughts on why yori is absolutely fumiki, if its a red herring its a silly one, and if he isnt or if its left ambiguous forever i will eat crow. here we go:

before i start let me say most of my evidence is the way yamazaki frames him visually rather than solid "proof." comics are an artform, theres a reason things get framed the way they do, and her artistic choices in ch 98 (i feel) are meant to serve as a big blinking neon light that says "you should be feeling this way about xyz right now"

iic, there were rumblings of "the young auditor" being fumiki as far back as his introduction in ch 51 due to to his unique ability:

which is essentially a refined version of fumikis innate ability to keep fae away. we know yori is part of a "family business," and it seems appropriate that with the proper training, he would be able to freeze fae in their tracks rather than simply ward them off

unfortunately this is where "evidence" ends and "vibes" begin

chapter 51 didnt get adapted into what was otherwise a pretty faithful adaptation in season 2, and i understand why - theres a lot going on, and this chapter is fairly out of left field. but theres one other quip that got left out of season 2:

this is a one-off thought that wouldnt have been difficult to include in the anime. imo, i believe this line from ch 62 didnt get animated because we hadnt met fumiki yet like we did in the manga. now, onto more recent chapters... (under a read more because this is going to get pretty long)

chise and yoris first meeting is framed in a very purposeful way. in chapter 98, elias is preoccupied with ousting all the outsiders so that he and chise can be alone, stuck on the idea that "christmas is for family only:"

and three pages later, who do we meet?

im really struck by the way chise and yori are drawn together here. personally, i dont read this as "chise is meeting a new unimportant side character," this is "the strings of fate have pulled us miraculously back together again"

waiter! waiter! can i get an order of drifting sakura petals and sparkles with this panel? am i waxing poetic here or do you see it? the way theres no background drawn here, no other characters, even in later pages when we know elias is standing right behind chise, he doesnt get included in frame so that its just the two of them:

while im at it, can we appreciate how theyre wearing the same outfit? black pants and a hip-length dark coat/sweater with oversized pockets, a collar, and six left-sided buttons. yoris dark gloves also evoke chises cursed arm here but i dont want to risk looking like a maniac any more than i already do. i mean... dude, look at them, theyre matching

speaking of matching, lets pop back to 51 for a sec

both yori and chise have canine familiars! actually, it looks like yori might have multiple - look at all those pokeballs i mean bamboo tubes in his coat. if my memory serves, we didnt know yori was japanese at this point, but everyone assumed so because of the appearance of this familiar... which was another log on the "this might be fumiki" fire

fun fact: this little dude is almost certainly a kuda-kitsune, which were said to be kept in tubes and summoned by a soothsayer, who could use it to perform curses, or tell the past and future

and the drama with which we find out his "name":

"i bet you were expecting me to say fumiki, huh. good luck im not giving you that this early you have to work for it." as far as aliases go, "ri" could be derived from "hatori," but neither of the kanji in "fumiki" can be read as "yo," so its probably just random

after yori leaves, we get another repetition of "christmas is for family," which at this point feels like yamazaki is leading us to water and dunking our head in it:

i think its awfully convenient that ruth was absent for chises exchange with yori. do you think he would have been able to smell that theyre related? or whiffed the kuda-kitsune in his coat?

right after this, too, we get this line from elias which i have been thinking about a lot:

theres a few different ways this could be read, so im not married to any one interpretation, but it could be foreshadowing "if chise decides to pursue a relationship with her estranged family, what will i do then?" as gabriella would say, "i hate to be a third wheel"

given what we have seen of yoris aloof personality, i have to imagine there will be drama if/when the reveal is made. sadly i can picture him actually pushing chise away if she tries to reestablish a relationship with him

now! that is pretty much where my thoughts end, but i do want to share questions/doubts i have:

if yori read all of simons reports to determine he was an unfit observer, there is no way he doesnt know chises full name. i wonder whether he had any reaction to it? he may assume that its just a coincidence. i briefly wondered if the hatori name was an invention by yuuki, until i remembered that the family chise stays with in the OVA also has the same name. unless yuuki was adopted by another family like seth...? dont mind me, im going pepe silvia mode over here

have i mentioned i talked about yuuki before in another theory post? take it with a grain of salt, i already got proven wrong on one front now that jasper has been introduced

will yuuki be reintroduced if fumiki is? i desperately want chise to get that closure, but this scene from ch 42 has a sense of finality to it, a sort of "you will never get to resolve things with your father or see his side of things" stank:

... actually, now that ive mentioned the kuda-kitsune, can we look at this thing again?

another word for the kuda-kitsune is "izuna," which is read in modern japanese as "weasel." could the critter whos watching yuuki here come from the same place as yoris familiars? yuuki leaves his family immediately after this - getting summoned maybe?

okay, okay, let me stop myself here before i start looking like im ranting and raving. can we talk about the mail, please, mac? ive been dying to talk about the mail with you all day, ok? "pepe silvia," this name keeps coming up over and over again. every day pepe's mail is getting sent back to me. pepe silvia! pepe silvia! i look in the mail, and this whole box is pepe silvia!

if youre a fence-sitter, what are your thoughts? do you think we just dont have enough evidence yet? inquiring minds want to know