#i like writing and all but reading stuff aloud ?? absolutely not

[iwakuraz]

exams JUST ended and now immediately, on the first day back to normal classes, my english teacher is suddenly telling everyone that we're all gonna have to write and then read a speech out to the class next lesson. and we weren't ever told about this speech before today

[pathologicalreid]

buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

[hippiegoth97]

Random Eddie Thought #2

This one really got away from me, but it's nice to write something new again :)

18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie, smut, sex dreams/fantasies, mentions of genital piercings/oral sex/masturbation/choking/unprotected sex, invasion of privacy, erections, crying, heavy kissing, idiots in love, best friends to lovers

A Few Tags: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @babygorewhore @xxbimbobunnyxx @mediocredreams

@micheledawn1975 @slowandsteddie @bimbobaggins69 @etherealxwitch @taintedcigs

You're in the kitchen of your apartment, getting a snack to share with Eddie, your best friend, who's come to have a perfectly platonic sleepover with you. You've known each other since high school, becoming fast friends. You never fit in the with 'in crowd' and Eddie naturally picked up on your awkward and shy nature. Over the years he's managed to get you to open up more and be yourself, though it's mostly only around him, even after all these years. You tell each other everything, and have been there for one another through thick and thin.

One thing he hasn't seemed to notice, however, is your growing feelings for him. As you both matured into your mid-twenties, you've been unable to deny just how gorgeous Eddie is. With his long curls, big brown eyes, and lithe body covered in tats and piercings. Not to mention he's perpetually dressed in band tees and jeans that don't leave much to the imagination. Ugh, he's absolutely perfect. Inside and out.

That's not to say he hasn't always been hot stuff, because of course he has. But he's not the scrawny little boy who picked you out of a long line of geeks and freaks anymore. No, now he's a strong, handsome, sexy man. A man who treats you like no one ever has before. He brings you something every time he comes to see you, ranging anywhere between a new book or a pretty rock he found on a walk once. He opens doors for you, and holds you in his arms when you're sad. He makes you soup when you're sick, nursing you back to health even if it means missing work.

The only thing missing, is something you've craved since the day you met him. Something you've never spoken aloud. Something you've only verbalized in late night cries of ecstasy when you get off to the thought of your best friend. Something you've only admitted in the pages of your diary. The diary that Eddie has just found in your bedside drawer, along with a pretty pink rabbit that makes him chuckle when he first sees it.

And what do we have here?... Eddie thinks to himself, pulling the book out of its hiding place. It's thick, bound in leather, detailed with little leaves and flowers. He thinks maybe it's a poetry journal, or a sketchbook. You share his affinity for the creative. It isn't until he actually opens that he realizes what's inside. Your deepest, darkest secrets. He flips through the pages, noting the dates as he reads about strange dreams you've had, or bad one-night stands. His eyes widen when he reaches an entry from a week ago, with the opening line: I dreamt about Eddie again last night...

He debates putting the diary back, not wanting to invade your privacy. He's not one to snoop, especially when you tell him everything anyway. Well, at least he thought you did. He bites his lip, tapping his foot on the floor as he decides what to do. He really should just put it back, and pretend he never saw it (or your special toy). But something inside him begs to know what your dreams of him are like. If they're anything resembling the dirty fantasies he's had of you while alone in his bed, he can't let it go until he knows for sure. He decides to read the next few lines, after flicking his eyes to the doorway to listen for your footsteps coming back from the kitchen.

...it was the same as all the others. Eddie was in my bed, and we were naked. His soft, warm lips were on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, and his hands were everywhere. It felt so good, having him kiss me like that while he explored every inch of me. His fingers were carefully thrusting inside my pussy, making me so fucking wet. I could feel his dick pressing into my thigh, and I took him in my hand. The noise he made when I touched him was so beautiful, he sounded so breathless and needy for me...

Eddie knows he should stop. This is wrong. So, so wrong. These are your private thoughts, and he shouldn't be reading them. Even if they're making a tent form in his pants. His heart races in his chest, and he feels rather hot under the collar. His stomach twists with an uneasy mix of guilt and arousal. He lets out a shaky breath, once again weighing his options. Keep reading, or put the damn thing away and never, ever bring it up. He looks down the hall, wondering how much time he has left before you come back. Against his better judgment, he gives in to his desire for you. With eyes glued to your neat handwriting, he reads on.

...I could feel him grow in my hand, fuck, he was huge. I've seen it in real life before, and not entirely on accident. Since we're so close, we change in front of each other sometimes. And even though I've never seen it hard, I can tell his dick is big. It's even got a goddamn piercing on it, shining in the light like a lure. I swear to God, it takes everything in me not to fall to my knees and take him in my mouth whenever I see it...

Eddie scoffs loudly, unable to believe you've actually been checking him out. A part of him wonders if this is a sick joke, that you'd somehow known to leave this here for him to see. Any second now, you'll come busting in here and laugh in his face. Maybe even snap a picture of his embarrassingly large erection amd make copies to give all your friends.

But that's not you. You're too kind and sweet to him to ever pull such a cruel (and improbably elaborate) prank. Sure, he's wanted you for years. To call you his girl, to love you the way you should be loved. To kiss you, and hold you, and touch you in all the ways he thinks you'd like. To love you, and spoil you like the queen you are in his eyes. He's just never allowed himself to think you'd ever feel the same about him. Until now.

"What are you doing with that?" You ask softly, frozen in place in the doorway of your bedroom with a tray of snacks in your hands. Your eyes are blown wide, as you've come back to find Eddie on your bed, reading your diary, with a huge hard-on in his pants.

"I-I, I was, uh, just...um..." Eddie babbles helplessly, slamming the book shut and tossing it across the room. As if it being anywhere else will magically absolve him of invading your privacy. You just stare at him as he goes red in the face, and gestures with his hands as he fails to come up with an explanation. "...sorry." He says after letting out a long string of unintelligible sounds. He cringes at the word, realizing it's not nearly enough. But his mind and mouth can't come up with anything that doesn't sound like a feral goblin choking on a chicken bone.

"What part did you read?" You ask, your own cheeks turning a deep crimson. You really hope he didn't find your latest sex dream entry, but the glaring evidence in his jeans tells you that's exactly what he saw.

"Read? No, I was, um...j-just skimming..." He chuckles nervously, hoping you'll buy it. But the darkening blush on your skin and tears welling in your eyes lets him know he's truly caught. "Sweetheart, I—" Eddie starts, standing up as you're about to fall apart.

"Eddie, I swear, I-I didn't mean it! It was just a dream, and pfft! I was high when I wrote that!" You laugh uncontrollably as a way to hide your tears of embarrassment, frantically shaking your head. You've never been so mortified in your life, caught red handed in the worst way possible. You could've gone forever without ever letting him know how you feel. The potential rejection seemed too painful to endure. "I didn't mean it, Eddie. I didn't." Your laughter devolves into soft sobs, your grip loosening on the tray. Eddie catches it before everything tumbles to the floor, setting it on your dresser.

"Sweetheart, c'mere." Eddie takes your hands in his, and leads you over to your bed to sit beside him. You follow him, unable to do much else as tears stream down your face. "I'm sorry for snooping, angel. That wasn't right for me to do." He says sadly, stroking your soft skin with his thumbs. You nod in response. "And we can pretend this never happened, okay? Like you said, it was just a dream." He offers, his own words stabbing into his heart at the idea of never fully being with you the way he wants. But he doesn't feel like he's earned it. Not after making you so upset, and betraying your trust.

"Why did you read it?" You ask abruptly, more curious than angry. As humiliating as it is that he found you out before you could tell him yourself, you want to know how those secret words made him feel.

"I got bored, and curious. I found it in your drawer, thinking it was poetry or something. But then I found the entry of you dreaming about me..." Eddie trails off, pondering what to say next. "...and I got more curious."

"About what?" You continue, your tears drying up.

"About whether or not you want me the same way I want you." He boldly admits. He may as well, since your diary entries admitted your own wonderful, awful, heart-breaking, nerve-wracking secret to him. You don't say anything else, eyes blown wide in shock. "I want to be with you, princess. I've always wanted that." He says emphatically, making your heart swell as well as race.

"Really?" You ask, as if his erection earlier wasn't enough indication of his desire for you. You've dreamt about this moment so many times, spent numerous moments throughout the days and nights hoping one day he'd see you. You now stupidly realize, that there was never a time where he didn't.

"Yes, really. If you can forgive me for being a creep, that is." He says with a chuckle, making you giggle as well.

"Yeah, I think I can manage that." You smile, squeezing his hands with your own. "How far did you get anyway?" You ask curiously.

"Uh, right about where you talked about wanting to suck my massive, pierced cock." Eddie replies, moaning in an exaggerated way on his final words to tease you.

"Ugh, that's so embarrassing!" You groan, covering your face in shame.

"It's really not, babydoll. I'm just flattered that you noticed." He insists, pulling your hands down so he can see your pretty face again.

"I'll count myself lucky you didn't read any more." You giggle sheepishly, recalling how the rest of that dream went. You riding Eddie's cock while his large hand wraps tightly around your throat, filthy praises leaving his lips to spur you on. Him fucking you from behind, tugging your head back by your hair as he grunts and groans with every thrust. Among other equally explicit things.

"Shit, now I have to read the rest!" Eddie says impishly, diving off the bed to get the diary that still lays on the floor.

"Eddie, no! Please, it's too embarrassing!" You shriek, clamoring after him. But he's quicker than you, snatching up the book and holding it above your head. You try to jump up and tear it from his reach, but it's no use. He chuckles at your foolish attempts, slowly moving closer to you while still holding the diary above your heads. His free arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close. Your hands meet his chest, a small gasp leaving your lips at the sudden movement. He gazes deep into your eyes with burning lust, a smirk plastered on his lips.

"Think of it this way, sweetheart. If I read the rest, I'll know exactly what we're doing tonight." He speaks seductively, in a way you've only heard in your dreams.

"This can't be happening." You scoff, convinced you somehow fell asleep before Eddie came over tonight.

"Is it really so hard to believe that I'm in love with you?" He asks, dropping the Casanova act for a second and tossing the diary on the bed. He cups your cheek, and leans in to kiss you. His plush lips meet yours, giving you a taste of sweet, beautiful reality.

"Mm." You grab hold of the sides of his face, deepening the kiss. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, drawing a quiet moan from you. Time seems to stop as your mouths move together as one, and joyful tears spring from your eyes. This is all you've ever wanted. To love Eddie, and to have him love you back.

He carefully leads you backwards to the bed, laying you down on top of it as he kneels above you. He pulls away, wiping the salty tracks from your face. He smiles warmly, admiring every last bit of you and saving it away to remember this forever. "Can I make you feel good, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, as if it's his dying wish.

"Please." You reply softly, giving him a nod.

"Perfect." He reaches over for the diary, finding his place as he lays down beside you. "Now...where were we?" He muses, eyes bugging out when he reads what comes next. "Christ, I picked a good night to be nosy." He turns his head to look at you, wearing a devilish grin unlike you've ever seen on him before. "I swear to god, I'm gonna make all your dreams come true, babydoll. Even if it takes all night." He purrs, before chucking the damned book away one last time and pouncing on you.

[bedoballoons]

Is your requests still open i just got back on and stuff and i kinda forgot your username did you change it i feel like my memory is getting worser everyday🫠aside from that if you are still doing requests can i maybe request like a reader that has animals following them around because of the calming presence they have around them that they use to comfort the characters at times maybe with a dendro or cryo vision (tighnari, wanderer,lyney,xiao,nuevelle bro what is this mans name and maybe cyno for the last) oh and they are a healer

It did change! My older username was much longer and a randomly generated one so I decided to go with something more personal! Also so happy to see you again! Sorry this took forever to write, but I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Calm like a soft breeze~༺}

CW: Super sweet and fluffy!

(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Xiao, Wanderer, and Neuvillette!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

"Oh my" Lyney gasped as he caught sight of the fish in the ocean, the lot of them swirling at the bottom of your feet while you searched for shells against the setting sun...the crabs had even started to follow you. You just had that affect on everything, anything that could see your sweet smile...feel the calm collected words that left your lips...they'd be entranced. He himself often got himself watching you with lovestruck eyes, hoping to catch glimpses of just what made you a walking safe place.

"Mon amour, you're one of the most beautiful mysteries of this world, I hope you realize just how many times you leave me in awe..."

"L-lyney...I'm just collecting shel-"

"I know and yet you've even caught the attention of the sea itself...incredible. Absolutely incredible."

𑁍༄Tighnari:

Tighnaris tail swayed slightly as he watched you, he couldn't help but be amazed...more animals gathering around to watch along with him as you intertwined small sticks into a crown. Your soft presence drawing him and every other living thing closer so they could see the culprit behind their newfound peace of mind. He had no clue how you managed to turn even his most stressed days into easy evenings. You truly had to be magical, and not like using a vision type of magic. A magic entirely your own, a spell you cast on anyone who met you.

"You're pretty incredible. I thought today was going terribly and then you turned it around like it had never been bad to begin with...how do you do it?"

"I just go with the flow and comfort you all the ways I can, you're the incredible one and I want to help you feel that way."

"There's no doubt you do."

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao sighed, watching as more birds gathered around you...your being radiating a calming aura that even had him feeling like he could lull off into a sweet sleep. "How do you always manage to draw the attention of the birds? You're just humming and yet it feels like you slow the world down so all can feel at peace...even me with my Karmic debt. How?"

"I'm not sure, I just humm the melody in my heart and hope that the birds and you enjoy it. As for being calming...I guess I find it easier to comfort people when I'm like this. Does this help?"

"Yes...I appreciate it. I might actually rest for awhile...if that's alright."

"Of course it is. Rest as long as you can my dear, you deserve it."

𑁍༄Wanderer:

Wanderer set his hat beside you, laying his head on your lap so he could look up at you while more animals gathered around the both of you. Normally so much attention from the wildlife would leave him annoyed...but you calmed his angry soul so easily. Reading aloud to the creatures of the forest and him while the clouds slowly swayed in the sky...you just left everything feeling safe and cozy.

"I don't know how you do it...but thanks I guess, for making me feel better. Even if you didn't really do anything but read. It helps.."

"If reading to you is what helps then consider it my pleasure."

"...you, are what helps."

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

Neuvillette opened the window slightly, allowing the many birds that had been sitting on the sill of it to get a better look at the source of the most wonderful lullaby they'd ever heard. Your voice was like the calming waves of a ocean, the perfect sound washing over him and wrapping him in a comforting warmth he'd needed so badly after his long day at work. He could listen to you for hours and never find your voice dull.

"You're a work of art my dear."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[renren-006]

Y'all did know? - Daryl x fem reader

Anon: i absolutely fucking love your fics, i read so many fanfics i don’t always remember authors but i for sure remember and recognize you and your work partially bc i reread it often❤️ after reading your last daryl fic at 4 am bc i couldn’t sleep i had an idea for a fic for him. what if it was slightly the opposite thing, like daryl and reader got together early on, maybe the knew each other before hand like reader was a bartender at merle’s favorite bar bc we all know daryl takes time to warm up to be ppl, and the cdc happens, while drinking they make their confession and get together officially, but readers like daryl with the fact they’re kinda shy and take a while to warm up to ppl so they don’t do pda and stuff publicly, not really intending to hide it but also not wanting the attention, and maybe they assume their ppl from their group know (this is where the set up for that last fic got me bc i can see this being a long timeline)......

original ask: Ask

a/n: hey anon!! i decided to copy some of what you wrote here but it was a massive request and I absolutely enjoyed reading it and writing it!!! thank you for the kind words!! you guys are why i love writing and helping make your stories become reality! hope you all enjoy reading it! word count: 3107

taglist: @rosecentury

Before World Ended:

You met the Dixon brothers a few years before the world ended. You were a bartender at a small driver's roadside bar off Atlanta I-85. You started working there after you graduated from college, hoping to make some money to put away to get out of Atlanta. 

Merle was always a loud drunk and a loud customer throughout the day. Daryl, however, was a kinder soul, apologizing for his brother before seating himself directly in the center of the bar area. The two of you chatted through your shift, mostly about who comes in, how his day was, and what the weather for the week would be like. It was small talk, but with the other rednecks checking you out, you felt comforted by him. Daryl never made any plans to put any moves on you in the three years he knew you, but when the world ended, and you almost got killed, he knew he had to.

"I like ya," he said aloud. You looked over at him. He was gazing up at the sky, a beer between his knees. You just sat there watching the man. 

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked, slightly annoyed. You not only had almost died by an undead customer, but also it was an undead customer. The idea that people could die and come back to life as something unlike themselves was utterly unbelievable. You watched blow you as that undead walked around without noticing you and Daryl on the bar's roof. Merle was blocking the rest of the bar to keep everyone out. All three of you knew you would have to leave soon, but it didn't matter; the summer breeze was still blowing, and the beer was still cold for now. 

“It means…ya almost died and the shit of the world, so… I like ya.”

“You are a master with your words,” you told him sarcastically. You've known Daryl for years now; the two of you spoke the same language with people. You were always shy, and Daryl just took a while to open up to people. You both were a lot alike, and that's what kept you together and attracted you to one another. “I like you too.”

GEORGIA:

The two of you never addressed your relationship with each other, not that anyone really needed to know. Nor did the two of you showcase it. Since both of you were shy and had a bit of a more rigid exterior about letting people in, you just figured when you were alone with each other was the time to be closer, but out in the world hand, holding, loving looks, and conversation were the way to go about it. 

Merle knew, of course; he figured it out quickly. He was the only one learning about the two of you and not caring. Daryl acted the same as he had, except he didn't dare flirt with you. Daryl had given him one look on the road when you walked ahead, and he was staring at your ass that he never tried again. Merle may be mean to Daryl, but he never would cross-touch what were his brothers. Everyone thought it was a word.

“He doesn't flirt with you, does he?” Andrea asked you a few months into living together. You shook her your head. “Weird, he never stopped with me.”

“Maybe you're just his type, Andrea.”

“And you're not? Anything with tits and an ass and Merles all over it,” she said to you, not noticing the slight touch of hands with Daryl as he walked by and the smile you gave. She kept running on about Merle's annoyance, not noticing anything else around her. 

FARM:

“You crazy bitch” you yelled towards Andrea. She had run over far behind your form and Ricks. The two of you dashed towards the fallen man without a second thought in your mind. You ran towards your man, who was lying in the grass, groaning in pain. Daryl was barely speaking in Rick's arms as they carried him off. 

“Don't worry, your man will be fine,” Shane said, keeping you from absolutely bashing Andreas' face in. She took one look at your anger and held her hands up, walking backward towards Dale. “Don't bite her head off for this.”

“Whatever,” you said, shoving him off and walking up towards the house, where Daryl was now being brought inside. You didn't even consider Shanes's words that day, “your man.” it never crossed your mind that he was teasing you. Shane was a dick; everyone knew it more recently. You could see Shane's vacant eyes glancing at everyone in a way that made your skin crawl. You thought the only reason he was acting like that towards you was this asshole was flirting. He knew you were taken, right? You were mistaken. 

ROAD AGAIN:

You handed over a can of soda to Daryl. You had only found two in the house you searched.  Surprisingly, the can was left in a cabinet, meaning you could drink it if you wanted to. Daryl and Rick approached you once they entered the house. They both came to help you in the bigger house. You placed the soda in Daryl's hand.

“It's not beer, but I know you'll enjoy it anyway,” you said to him before heading up the stairs. 

“She's sweet on you,” Rick said with a smile, teasing the man beside him about you as you skipped the last few steps. 

“I know,” Daryl said as he went to look for other things inside the house. Rick looked back and forth between the stars and where Daryl had gone off, too. He laughed slightly.

“Those idiots,” Rick said, thinking they both had no clue about the other's feelings when everyone else was oblivious to their known feelings. 

PRISON:

You stood on the watchtower, scouting the land ahead. Daryl and a few others had gone on another trip to look for supplies. You had your rifle on the railing as you watched, and then you set up their gear and trucks. Maggie slid in next to you. She watched you watch Daryl move around in the ground, setting up his motorcycle. He looked good down there; the way his body moved, his mussels, and even the way his hair was falling was driving you wild. Maggie caught a glimpse of you checking him out.

“You're so obvious,” she told you. You laughed slightly.

“Sorry,” you apologized; you knew you were obsessed with watching him, but how could you not? You’ve known Daryl for so many years now it was impossible not to watch or admire the man before you. You loved him, and he knew that. Daryl was also quite aware of your joys of watching him, sometimes he would put on more of a show of stretching or giving you those lustful eyes you knew would mean the two of you wouldn't get any sleep that night. It was his favorite thing to do to get you worked up throughout the day. 

PRISON:

Daryl knew he was forgetting something before he even shut the truck's door. He heard her voice before she even reached the hill in the Prison. 

“Wait.” Daryl glanced out the window of the truck, putting his arm out and waving. He knew she was smiling from that before her face popped up in his vision. “You forgot your water bottle!” Smiling up at him was you, his girl—Rick snickers from the seat beside Daryl. 

“Thanks,” He said, grabbing the water bottle from your hand, “saving my ass.”

“Always am,” you responded, giving him a wink. Have a safe trip out.” As you said it, you turned with a wave and walked back up the hill. Swaying our hips bit as you did, you gave Daryl a show that you knew would make him come back to you tonight with a mission. 

Daryl and Rick headed off on their scout to a new town they had spotted on the map, a few miles away from the other town they had picked clean. As the two looked around the houses, Daryl went through many jewelry cases for anything that might seem like something you would wear. Rick came in on him, picking through when he had found the perfect thing.

“She would love this,” Daryl said. Rick came up next to him, observing the (silver/gold) necklace with a bird on the end of the chain swinging in the air. 

“Do you think about anything but her?” Rick asked, laughing as he exited the room to look in the one next to it. Daryl chuckled and shook his head. No, you were always on his mind. 

Little did he know, Rick assumed Daryl had a massive crush on you, not that he had any suspicions you two were already together.

When they returned and Daryl was back sitting next to you on that mattress on the floor, he pulled out the necklace. 

“I found it,” he told you, handing it over to you so you could see it. “I know how much ya miss these types of things.”

“Haha, did you know I missed jewelry?” You asked him, shocked he somehow knew how much you missed having something to wear around your neck. He nodded his head.

“I knew, ya mentioned it a while ago. Been looking for something for ya”

“Daryl,” you said with admiration. He put it around your neck; the man who you had met in a bar all those years ago was now putting a necklace on your neck in a run-down prison at the end of the world. 

AFTER PRISON FALL:

“Daryl?” You said, besides Carol, who had just completed her job of destroying a massive facility of cannibal people. You had been with her, the girls, and Tyreese since the fall and had been so scared that Daryl didn't make it out of the prison. You had run out of the hut and left Tyrese once you heard the explosion. You had found Carol and walked over to the others and saw him. 

Daryl didn't hesitate to run straight for you. You hugged me so tight you felt the air in your lungs stop for a moment, but you didn't care.

“I miss ta. I thought ya died,” Daryl said as he clung to your body. He had gone through hell to fight and find you, and here you were, not a scratch on you and in his arms again. That necklace still hung around your neck, a form of commitment to the both of you about who you were with.

“I'm alive. I'm alive,” you said as you held the man in your arms. The others stood and watched your reunion, no one thinking anything- “Wow, they must care for each other a lot.”

Once he broke off the hug, it was like looking into the eyes of the world again. You could see color, purpose, and meaning. He was everything to you.

 

AFTER TERMINUS:

After the terminus, Daryl stuck to your side. The two of you walked together, ate together, slept near each other, and went on runs together. When Carol and Daryl went to Atlanta, so did you. 

“How long have you two been together?” she asked as you walked through another building in Atlanta. Daryl casually answered as he passed an office door with a walker trying to get out.

“Since Atlanta fell,” he answered. Carol stopped, turning back to the two of you.

“You've been together for more than three years?” She asked the two of you. “How did no one pick up on it?”

“Wait, what?” you asked, shocked, “How does no one know Daryl and me are together?”

“You two have never been very…affectionate,” she told the two of you. Darly glanced your way. The two of you laughed a little at that.

“Yea, that makes sense,” Daryl said. This was the moment the two of you started looking towards the others for any answers if they knew you were together. For the last few months on the road, getting to Alexandria yielded you the response that no one knew a thing. It caused a bit of agitation for the two of you about how maybe your attitudes about being affectionate were causing more harm than good. 

ALEXANDRIA:

Once you all had gotten settled in and jobs were assigned, you all started to try and live a normal life again.Since moving into the two houses, you shared a space with Miccone, Rick, Carol, Daryl, and the kids. You and Darly took a room downstairs along with Carol down the hall, and the rest were split in the rooms upstairs. No one questioned you staying with Daryl or even looked at the fact that there was only one king bed in that room with the two of you. 

While Darly was assigned to go on runs to look for people, you were assigned daycare and teacher duty at the house designated for the school. It kept you busy while Darly was away, and on the days you had off or no one showed, you hung around with Crol or took watch. Many days, you walked around the complex, taking in the signs and the ability to walk in peace. That was until one day.

“Hey, you're one of the women from the new group, right?” a man asked as you walked back to your shared house. You could see Daryl on the porch talking with Carol, but he had not seen you yet. 

“Uh yeah,” you said, continuing to walk back; the man pulled your arm to face him.

“You know it's rude to keep walking when someone is talking to you. Or did you forget that after living in the wild for so long?”

“I didn't forget anything; I just don't want to talk to you,” you told the man, shaking your arm out of his grasp and walking faster towards the house. Finally, you made eye contact with Daryl. The way his face looked, you knew it was because he had heard. The man didn't stop trying. 

“Hey, don't walk away from me,” he said, running back up to you, grabbing your arm so hard and pulling and making you stumble back. “What if I'm not good enough for you? Can’t a man ask a girl for some action or what?” he said, pulling you closer to him. 

“Stop it,” you yelled back, but you didn't have to fight hard. Daryl was a flash before being by your side, and the man's face was flush against his fist.

“Touch me woman again, and that's the least I'll do to ya,” he said. The man froze as he looked up at you from the ground. That was the day you realized the longer people didn't know either of you was together, the more people would try and come up to you, assuming you were not. 

Daryl went to bed that night, angry. You knew it wasn't towards you, but the coldness in the room made you feel like the world was ending if you and him couldn't be more open. 

ALEXANDRIA:

‘What if you two just got married?” Carol asked as she was cooking in the kitchen. You paused your reading from the chair in the living room to look into the kitchen at Carol. 

“What?’ You asked, shocked by her expression. She turned away from what she was cooking on the stove to talk to you. 

“Well, since the people in Alexandria won't take the hint you've taken, and Daryl's upset, and also the issue of our own family not knowing…maybe you should just go out, find some rings, and get married.”

“I…hadn't thought of that,” you told her. “You think Daryl would be okay with that?”

“I think Daryl is more on board with that idea than you think, y/n,” Carol told you. She knew about the distance that had been caused by the repetitive men hitting on you. The guy whose nose was broken never once tried to come up to you and denied anything happening with you when others asked. No one knew what Darly had said that day apart from those there. The decision was made, at least on your part. You stomped your way over to Aaron's house. When he answered the door, you stomped in. 

“Need Daryl,” was all you said before heading to the back of his house to the garage. There, Daryl's bike sat as he tinkered with it. You slammed the door open, causing Daryl's head to look towards the door. A shutter went through the house.

“The hell, woman..” Darly almost got out. 

“Marry me,” you said when he was almost done speaking. Daryl's mouth closed, looking at you. “Do you need me to repeat myself? Daryl Dixion, marry me.”

“Ya no, I heard ya y/n,” he said, standing up, “why?’

“Why? Because I love you, and no one can even tell I do or that we have been together for more than four years,” you told him, frustrated by the string of events of the past year. 

“You want to marry me?” Daryl asked, taking your face in his grease-covered hands.

“Yes,” you told him, smiling.

EVERYONE'S REACTIONS:

Rick was holding a dinner for the family that night. Carol completed a large spread, and everyone showed up. You and Daryl were late. When you showed up, the two of you were holding hands. Michone was the first to welcome the new development.

“You guys waited long enough,” she joked, causing other heads to turn. Daryl looked down at his feet, and you just let out a sigh.

“We didn't, though,” you told them. Everyone looked twords you two in confusion. 

“Didn't what?” Michone asked, clearly confused by what was happening. 

“We've been together for four years,” Darly said, “And we just got married to prove it.” He lifted his hand to show the gold band on his finger, and yours lifted as well, showing the (silver/gold) band with a few small diamonds on it. The two of you had found a jewelry store and had fun picking out your ring, while Darly wanted something simple. 

“Holy shit,” Abraham said. 

“Wait, what? '' Carl shouted, clearly confused about how his uncle had been together with you for so long, and he didn't know.

“Congratulations,” Carol answered. Everyone else was shocked. “Oh, I've known about them for a while.”

“Tonight's dinner story is how the two of you got together,” Rick said as he motioned for the others to sit, “And no one is leaving out any details.”

[superscourge]

Resurrected AU Ch. 1: Alliance

(read on AO3 here!) Warnings (for the fic in general, not necessarily this chapter): Graphic depictions of violence, strong language, general mature themes Chapter Summary: Scourge breaks into one of Eggman's bases in search of a secret weapon to defeat Sonic with, but what he ends up finding is much stranger and much scarier than he was expecting. Though…he finds a way to get some use out of it. Notes: it really took me like a thousand years to get this started huh. lol. well i wanted to at least get the first chapter out before the sonic au collision event fully started, so im happy to present the first chapter of resurrected au's fic!! god i hope yall like it LOLLL, this au means a whole lot to me.. it's become my favorite baby i wont lie. i will also admit that im a Little nervous to finally start posting my actual writing for sonic stuff; i'm pretty self-conscious abt it actually lmao. but hopefully yall end up enjoying how i write these guys. please be niceys idk how long it'll take me to dish out the rest of the chapters, but hopefully i can find the time and energy to get them out steadily!! thanks in advance for reading and thank u so much for ur support and enthusiasm <3

--

It’s not every day that you get a juicy piece of info that could very well put the odds in your favor. That’s why Scourge was not gonna waste this opportunity.

He’d gotten word thanks to his incredible sleuthing skills [read: eavesdropping on strangers] that Eggman had a new base in the area and had apparently acquired a very powerful “secret weapon” of some sort. That was all he needed to know before deciding it was time to raid a base. After all, if he found that secret weapon? Sonic was toast.

It took a minute to actually find the damn place, but soon enough, Scourge was skidding to a stop at the treeline before what looked to be a large, dome-shaped structure with the patented Eggman symbol on it (or something that looked like it; Scourge figured it was close enough). He smirked, flipping his shades down over his eyes and speeding off towards the entrance.

As expected, badniks littered the area around the main entrance to the base. They looked a little funny, Scourge noted; they seemed a little more…high-tech than he was used to seeing. But, whatever–he figured it wouldn’t be an issue once they were busted to scraps.

… He did have a little trouble with these bots. Just a little. But it was no biggie, since he ended up finding a way inside before he could be overwhelmed. All’s well that ends well, he supposed.

The inside of this place was…confusing. So many twists and turns, rooms that led into other rooms, platforms that moved in weird directions…

“Doesn’t this place have a map?” Scourge grumbled to himself as he ran through the absolute maze of hallways.

After what seemed like forever, he finally came to what was clearly the main, central chamber of the base. There was a very complicated-looking keypad attached to it. Luckily, Scourge was very good at lockpicking.

Stepping back a bit, he hopped up and curled into a spindash before launching himself at the keypad. It took a bit of work, but before long, the whole thing was smashed to bits with sparks flying everywhere. Just as he’d hoped, the door opened once the keypad was destroyed. With a triumphant snicker, he unfurled and landed back on the floor before confidently waltzing into the chamber.

Inside looked pretty much as he expected it to–tubes and gadgets everywhere, lots of high-tech machinery that did Gaia-knows-what, lots of papers littered about several desks that clearly showed the work of an evil mastermind…

Yeah. Deffo an Egg-base.

“Now, where’s that weapon…” Scourge questioned aloud as he strolled through the room. He pulled out some drawers and rummaged around here and there, but he didn’t really find anything interesting so far. Surely this thing wasn’t hidden that well, right?

Just as he was starting to get frustrated, he came across a huge capsule of some kind right in the middle of the room. Pretty obvious, actually. He wasn’t that observant, but whatever. He raised his shades to where they were resting back in their place on his head before he rubbed his hands together with a huge, toothy grin. “That looks promising.”

Making his way to the door of the capsule, he tried to peek inside through the little window on the front of it. He couldn’t make anything out… He decided to just open it to get a look at what was inside, so he searched around for a switch of some kind that would do that for him. It didn’t take long, thankfully, and he quickly pressed the button down that would activate the door.

Smoke spewed out from the door as it opened, making Scourge cough a bit. He waved his hand to clear some of it out of his way as he impatiently waited for it to dissipate enough for him to see what he was in for.

This had to be some sort of cool gun. He knew it was. Some kinda laser shooter or something. Or maybe a bazooka. Oh–a cannon, even! He dearly hoped it was a cannon, actually. The smoke was almost fully cleared, so he leaned in excitedly to see what was inside…!

… It was…a guy. There was a guy in there.

“What the–?” Scourge furrowed his brow once he got a good look at the contents of the capsule. It was obviously a person–a jackal, it looked like? Definitely not a cannon. Who the hell was this? He looked rough, like he’d really been put through the wringer. His drip was cool, Scourge supposed, and the big, gnarly scar on the guy’s chest was pretty intimidating…

Mine’s still cooler, he thought to himself.

Suddenly, alarms sounded throughout the base. Scourge cursed under his breath as he looked over his shoulder. He turned back to the man in the capsule, making a quick decision–he’d snag him and take him with him. He probably had some idea of where the weapon was, so once he woke up, he’d just beat the information out of him if he wouldn’t give it up willingly.

Grabbing the jackal out of the capsule and slinging him over his shoulder, Scourge finally sped out back through the way he came. He was able to dodge any bots that tried to come after him thanks to his speed, and soon enough, he was outside and running through the trees of Mobius once again.

He ran until forest turned to jungle, and before long he was slowing to a stop once again in a small clearing where bits of light showed through the canopy up above. He rested the other man’s body down on a bed of moss near a small pond, figuring that’d be…somewhat comfortable, and he then took a seat on a fallen tree a few feet away.

It was only a matter of seconds before he began to tap his foot. What was he supposed to do now? Just sit there waiting for this guy to wake up? That could take hours… He didn’t have that kind of patience.

Deciding to take the initiative, Scourge stood and started walking over to the jackal, intending to just…lightly kick him until he woke up, or something. However, he didn’t get the chance.

A low, threatening growl could be heard rumbling from the stranger’s throat. Scourge stopped in his tracks once he heard it, then took a few paces back. How long had he been–?

One yellow eye opened to a squint, scanning the area before landing on Scourge. For some reason, the look the man was giving him made his skin crawl… Not that he was going to let him know that, though.

Instead, Scourge popped the collar of his jacket to regain his composure and puffed out his chest. “Took ya long enough,” he teased right off the bat. “I was startin’ to think you were dead.”

The jackal’s gaze lingered on him coldly for a few moments. However, he looked elsewhere when he began to speak. “... I should have been.”

That…wasn’t the response Scourge was expecting. The way he sank a bit betrayed his confusion. “... Wait, what?”

The man sat up, sort of startling Scourge into taking another step back. As he did so, he fully opened both of his eyes so that he could properly take in his surroundings. He was clearly ignoring the hedgehog beside him as he turned his head away, which didn’t really sit right with Scourge.

“Hey!” he barked. “I’m talkin’ to you!”

Giving no indication that he was listening, the man proceeded to rise to his feet, standing at his full height. Scourge sort of…shrank a little once he saw how actually tall this guy was. He knew jackals were generally bigger than hedgehogs, but this guy…

No, no, it was fine. No need to be afraid. He was still in charge here–this guy just didn’t know it!

With an annoyed sneer, Scourge dared to stomp a little closer. “Listen here, pal. If it weren’t for me, you woulda still been stuck in that base. I went outta my way to rescue you, got it? That means you owe me one. So, I’m gonna tell you how this is gonna go down, and you’re gonna–hrk!”

A clawed hand suddenly gripping his neck caused Scourge’s words to get caught in his throat… At least, that was part of it.

The jackal had snapped his head around to glare murderously at him as he grabbed him, which gave Scourge a very clear view of his face. He could see his one piercing yellow eye staring back at him…and he quickly noticed that the other eye had some kind of rock lodged into its socket. It was an eerie sight, and it definitely sent an intense chill up Scourge’s spine.

“You,” spat the jackal, voice deep and commanding, “do not control me.”

Unable to respond, Scourge just kind of…dangled there, hands gripping the other’s wrist as he kicked his legs a little. The expression he wore was enough of a response, though, so he was released after a moment of struggle. Once he was able to breathe and stand on his own again, he gasped for air and rubbed at his throat with an indignant look.

“What the hell?” he managed to say between coughs. “Who do you think you are, grabbin’ me like that?”

Turning away, the taller man didn’t bother to look at him as he replied. “I am Infinite,” he answered simply.

There was a pause as Scourge seemed to wait for him to say something else. When he didn’t, he furrowed his brow a little. “... Like, that’s your name, or…?”

The man–Infinite, apparently–seemed to hesitate, as if he was surprised that Scourge didn’t recognize him. One of his ears flicked.

“... I suppose enough time has passed that my name is no longer common knowledge,” he mused, half to himself. “Pity. I would have liked to think I made a bigger impact than that.”

Scourge watched as Infinite turned to fully face him again, making him subconsciously take a couple steps back. Man, this guy was kinda scary… Not that he couldn’t take him! He was just giving him the creeps, was all… Cyan eyes flicked to Infinite’s hands as he flexed his fingers.

“I will simply have to remind the world what true fear feels like,” he growled lowly, “and I suppose that starts with you.”

The rock embedded in Infinite’s eye began to glow as he summoned its power, and, to Scourge’s bewilderment, he began to lift off the ground and hover there. It was kind of scary, actually. The guy was floating. What the hell?

Then it hit him. The weapon Eggman had been hoarding wasn’t a gun or a cannon or anything like that. It was Infinite. He obviously held some sort of power that Eggman wanted to weaponize, and that must have been why he’d been locked up in that base… Things started clicking.

Despite Scourge expecting him to do… anything, really…Infinite proceeded to seize up in pain and let out an agonized yell. He suddenly collapsed to the ground, falling to his knees as he held himself up with one hand and gripped his head with the other. “W… What…?!” 

Infinite’s hand moved from his head to his chest where the large scar marked him. When he felt nothing but the scar, he had a look of both anger and confusion on his face, which told Scourge that what just happened clearly wasn’t the plan.

… Interesting.

Scourge stood a little straighter once he was confident that this guy wasn’t about to explode or something, sticking his thumbs into his jacket pockets. “Aaaalright, Criss Angel. If you’re done with all that , I think it’s time we get down to business.”

While Infinite knelt there still trying to figure out what was going on, Scourge began to pace around him in a circle, smirking as he did so. “Look. Like I said before, I rescued you from that base, so you kinda owe me one. But–and hear me out on this one–I’m willin’ to come to a compromise.”

Infinite snapped out of his pained daze long enough to shoot another glare at Scourge as he came around to his front again. “Compromise?” he hissed.

Scourge nodded. “Yeah. So, listen–I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier.” He held up a thumb and pointed it at his own chest, teeth bared in some kind of nasty grin. “Name’s Scourge. If ya haven’t hearda me by now, then you’ve been livin’ under a rock.”

Infinite somehow doubted that this brat had left enough of a mark on the world that anybody off the street would know his name. Still, he let him continue.

“I wanna take out Sonic. I assume you know him, right? Well, I think you’re just the guy who can help me out with that. He’s gotten lucky so far, but I think with you backin’ me up, I’ll be able to finally give ‘em his just desserts.”

The name Sonic caused a spark of recognition to flash over Infinite’s good eye. His breathing began to steady. “... Sonic,” he repeated. “Yes, I am familiar with Sonic .”

The way Infinite said his name let Scourge know that there was some beef there, at least. This worked in his favor. “Good,” he said with a nod. “So we’re on the same page, then.”

He turned on his heel before stopping his walk, facing Infinite to speak to him directly. “Like I said, I want you to help me take him down. Easy, right? In exchange, though… I’ll help you out with whatever you want, too. I dunno if you knew this, but I’m basically just as strong and just as fast as that blue bastard. I could give anybody a run for their money if I felt like it.”

Narrowing his eye skeptically, Infinite mulled this over. He seemed to be recovering from the shock from before, and he stood back up onto his feet. It was evident from how long he took to respond that his mind was…elsewhere.

“... I see.” His tail swished behind him as he thought about his next words. “You are offering to aid me in whatever task I ask of you?”

“Cross my heart.”

Infinite gave a huff before crossing his arms. “... Fine. If you intend to uphold your end of this bargain, then I will do the same.”

Scourge smiled widely, his sharklike teeth almost glistening in what little sunlight was managing to poke through the canopy above them. This idiot. He had no idea that he had every intention of double-crossing him the first chance he got.

He held out his hand for a shake to seal the deal. “Glad to have ya aboard, Infinite.”

Infinite glanced down at the other’s hand before reaching forward and taking it, giving it a single shake. His grip was tight. “Let us make the most out of this partnership, shall we?”

… Infinite was not stupid. He instantly knew that Scourge was going to betray him. That overconfident fool was so transparent it almost made him sick.

But…he could also tell that he had some bite to his bark, even if it was just a little. He was seasoned enough as a soldier that he could see that. That meant he could get some use out of him before he pulled his own betrayal.

He no longer had the Phantom Ruby in his chest, and he was alive, and he had no idea why. If this green idiot could help him figure that out…then he’d play along for as long as he had to.

Either way, he was going to get answers. And once that was done? He was going to rip out Sonic’s miserable little throat.

☆

[torchflies]

I can’t remember what fic it was but essentially mav couldn’t read very well (or he was dyslexic like I said I can’t remember) but he still read Bradley bed time stories but the stories were based off the pictures in the book. Would Jake do that with his swamp chickens growing up so they would have bed times stories?

Also how does slider ice and mav react to finding out Jake is dyslexic????

P.S. I love you’re writing ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much for the compliment, Nonny! 😭❤️

Oh he absolutely did that! Also all the Cajun stories he heard about while working with adults to get money, fishing and lifting heavy stuff, he commits to memory — he tells them the scary stories of the rougarou and feu-follet.

He wants them to be like ordinary kids, scared of things that go bump in the night, not people.

Jake copes with his dyslexia very well as an adult, most people don’t even notice his occasional stumbling over words that he spells or him taking a little bit longer to read something. His kids have never known anything different, so it’s normal for them for one kid (usually Mack) to do all the ordering if they go out, or to read street signs aloud. They just do it like second nature and eventually someone asks why… Oh, Ness has math brain and he’s tired so I figured I would read the sign so he didn’t have to double check.

Jake, turning bright red as he drives the crew around: She means I’m dyslexic.

It changes nothing and everything. 😉❤️ Suddenly every piece of paper Jake gets handed by Mav is at a lower contrast level so it’s easier for him to read. Slider will offer to read aloud a chunk of the big NATOPS Jake is studying. Ice won't give him directions like left and right, he’ll use specific coordinates or clock hands, or “follow the yellow car”. Bradley will proofread his writing without a single comment and Jake… is very confused.

[ranticore]

I've often seen people ask you for drawing advice(which yes absolutely!) but what kind of writing advice could you give someone who wants to start? (or just narratives as a whole)

Ok my biggest advice and the thing I always spend most time on when editing is that u should tell the audience way less than you think you should tell them. Provide information sure but don't draw connections and don't hold a reader's hand. Like for example one minute ago I was reading over a paragraph with the final two sentences (paraphrased): "The word 'faery' didn't quite make it out of his mouth [in reference to himself]. He'd never thought of himself in those terms" and my editing comment was to nix that last sentence entirely because it's just saying out loud what the previous sentence is telling us, like holding ur hand and pointing at it saying "hey this is what that last sentence meant btw". it's easy to end up with a lot of that but you need to go back and cut all of those out. think about a reader drawing their own judgements, how much more engaging it is

Other random stuff I've picked up over the years

Kerb your worldbuilders disease ur writing a story not an encyclopaedia

Read your paragraph aloud to identify repetitive or weirdly structured sentences

There should be a clear causal chain running the length of the narrative - x happened because of y, which happened because of z, and so on. No matter how many links in the chain you should know it start to finish

Written media gives you an unlimited time budget, a reader can take as long as they like with it. You don't have to make it quick and snappy. You get to show & explore things that visual media can't, so take advantage of it. Also ditch every piece of writing advice which is like "trim all the fat and also imagine camera angles and scene cuts like it's a movie" because it's not a movie and you aren't constrained into a short runtime.

First draft is rough it's supposed to be rough just write it

It's impossible to write dialogue that nobody would ever say.. easy to scoff and think "nobody talks like this" but they do

I can't in good conscience advise everybody do this but the slush draft (draft 0 as it were) of stbh was narrated entirely in first person by the pov character in each chapter, with the framing device that they were explaining their actions to a judgemental third party. This was just done for fun before any other world building or even plot it was just to get the characters right first & to sort out how they would attempt to justify their actions, when they'd try to make themselves sound better (or worse), and just their voice in general. It ended up being absolutely invaluable

[whimsicalpolitical]

Hi! I hope ur well!

could you possibly write with the prompt of "well good evening, nice of you to join us." with Ross please? 💕

I’m totally well, thank you, love.

sleepy dialogue prompt 🧸

^ "well good evening, nice of you to join us." (ross)

The soft glow of the fire casts flickering shadows across the room as you drift off on the couch, wrapped in a thick, cozy blanket. The book you were reading slips from your hand, landing softly on the carpeted floor. The warmth and the quiet murmur of Ross's voice reading aloud lull you into a peaceful slumber.

Ross notices you’ve fallen asleep and gently lowers his voice, closing the book with a smile. He carefully adjusts the blanket around you, making sure you're comfortable. His fingers lightly brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, barely audible over the crackling fire. Ross glances at you, making sure you’re still asleep, before quietly rising from his seat and heading to the door. He opens it to reveal Matty, standing there with a bottle of whiskey and a grin.

“Evening, mate,” Matty says in a low voice, stepping inside. “Did I interrupt?”

Ross shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “No, not at all. Just a quiet evening in. Come in, but keep it down. She’s asleep.”

Matty glances over at you, curled up on the couch. “Long day, huh?”

“Something like that,” Ross replies, leading Matty to the kitchen. “Fancy a drink?”

“Always,” Matty says, setting the bottle down and grabbing a couple of glasses. “I brought the good stuff.”

Ross chuckles softly, pouring them both a drink. “I should hope so. What brings you by tonight?”

Matty leans against the counter, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Just thought I’d check in, see how you’re doing. It’s been a while. Also wanted to chat with you about the new album.”

“Ah yes, honestly I’m absolutely enjoying the break, she’s keeping me busy though.” He laughs.

“I can see that,” Matty says, glancing over at you again. “She suits you.”

Ross smiles warmly, looking over at you with a tender expression. “She does. She’s perfect, really. She’s...well, she’s everything.”

“Let’s do a double date in the future, yeah?”

“Of course.”

They both take a sip of their drinks.

“Now, let’s talk album. Thought it’d be good to get your input on some things since the others are all on vacation.”

Ross’ eyes light up, “sure, mate let’s hear it.”

Matty pulls out his phone, scrolling through some notes. “We’ve been playing around with a few different sounds, trying to see what sticks. Here, listen to this.” He plays a short clip, the raw, unpolished sound filling the room.

Ross listens intently, nodding along. “I like it. It’s got a good vibe.“

As the evening progresses, the sound of their quiet conversation blends with the crackling of the fire, creating a soothing background noise. Gradually, the voices and warmth rouse you from your slumber. You blink slowly, the firelight dancing in your eyes as you take in the scene.

Ross notices you stirring and his face lights up with a gentle smile. “Good evening,” he says, his voice warm and playful. “Nice of you to join us.”

You stretch under the blanket, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “I must’ve dozed off. How long was I out?”

“Long enough for Matty to drop by,” Ross says, gesturing to his friend.

Matty raises his glass in a mock toast. “Evening. Sorry to intrude on your nap.”

You chuckle, feeling the comfort of their presence. “No intrusion. It’s nice to see you, Matty.”

“Feelings mutual, anyway,” he turns to Ross, “thanks for your input and I’ll send you some other stuff f’ that’s alright.”

“Absolutely, thanks for stopping by. We’ll see each other on Sunday in the studio.”

Matty walks over to the door and grabs his coat, ready to step into the rain outside.

“Have a nice evening you two.”

You say your goodbyes and smile at Ross when he comes over and takes your face into his hands.

“Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah, amazing actually.”

Ross lifts his eyebrows surprised, “amazing, yeah? I’m glad.”

You close the distance between you, your lips meeting in a gentle, lingering kiss. The fire crackles softly in the background, and the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. Ross's hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling, breathless and content.

“Let’s watch something, come here,” you say, patting the spot next to you.

Ross chuckles and pulls you into his arms the second he sits down. “”What do you have in mind?”

You give him your all teeth grin wich means he won’t like your idea but you’ll try to get him to watch anything anyway.

“Oh no,” he groans and throws his head back dramatically which makes you hit his chest.

“Hey, don’t be mean,” you smile, “one episode ‘vampire diaries’ ross, please.”

He groans even more and hides his face in your neck, kissing your sweet spot and slowly biting where he kissed you. “Hm, turn it on then, doesn’t mean I have to pay attention, though.”

[tookishcombeferre]

I love the Sorcerer's Secret Episode. It might be my favorite one in the whole series? But, one of the things it highlights as kind of important for me is that Cedric might be the only person in Sofia's life that she learns from and doesn't perpetually have to rescue all the time. Despite the fact that she does pull him out of his seclusion by being there for him, he does, in fact, teach her things (if begrudgingly so) with eventual enthusiasm. However, Sofia is a child who, all too often, has been required to be the maturest person in the room full of both adults and other children. She saves her animal friends. She constantly apologizes for mistakes that any child would make. And, really, at the end of the day, she has to learn a lot on her own. Yet, despite being sort of a curmudgeon, Cedric really does guide her. He's gruff. He's sometimes self-interested. And, yet, somehow he's the adultiest adult in her life who actually understands the nature of what's going on. And, deep down, we see that he loves to see her succeed. It's clear in his posture. It's in his face. He can't hold back his joy even if he tries to cover it in his words. Whoever animated Cedric is a genius. The way they lit his eyes and did the fluidity of his body movement just speaks volumes about how he actually feels. And, Jess Harnell obviously kills it as his voice because the way he conveys the "I actually want to do this, but I seem like I'm disinterested" tone is just so perfect. Obviously Miranda is there for Sofia. But, by the nature of being from the village, just doesn't really "get" all the magic stuff. We see this in the finale. There's so much she misses because she's not trained to understand it. Once she does, she's on the warpath, and I love that. It's so genuine. She couldn't have understood everything. It was impossible! And, the more I watch the series the more I see the weight of the absolute world on Sofia's shoulders, and I realize that it's nice to know that she has an adult, outside of her parents who just don't understand magic well, who cares even if he can't quite make the words fit at first. It's nice to know that she has a mentor who genuinely protects her, unlike Chrysta. I like to think that Sofia calls Chrysta on her bad mentoring BECAUSE she KNOWS what a mentor is supposed to be like. She's HAD a good one to compare Chrysta to. And, I think that's important. I've had teachers in my own life who were closer than my folks because my folks couldn't, or wouldn't, get where I was at. They didn't understand the passions I had for things. We didn't align. Even as an adult, I have adultier adults in my life that "get" me. However, I've been thinking a lot about being in high school. Maybe hitting a milestone birthday in a month or so is making nostalgic? I remember a teacher who could never have kids of his own and his wife died relatively young. And, I remember so many of us who had him as a teacher were amazed by his ability to use feeling to connect with us. There was a lesson he taught about the play Our Town that I still remember as vividly as if I were still in that classroom at 16 at almost 30. We all had to write our own goodbyes to things we loved like Emily. I still remember what I wrote, what my friends wrote, what my teachers wrote. They were all scrambled together and then read aloud. But, you could tell who wrote what. It was the first time I think everyone in the room saw each other as people. Real people. And, he made that happen. All that to say, I think it's important to think about how mentorship is almost in a category onto itself. We see it in Cedric and Sofia. We see it with Dr. Dillamond and Elphaba in Wicked. We see it in, hopefully, our own lives. It's healing on both ends - for the mentor and the person being mentored. I know this for a fact because, now that I'm older, I've been on the mentorship side of that equation. It's a different feeling than being mentored, but the pride? the joy? that you feel at your mentees success?? There's nothing like it. It's indescribable. 

[primaviva]

BOOKWORM

PAIRING: gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: gwen stacy with a girlfriend who loves reading.

WARNINGS: none, jus pure fluff !!

gwen with bookworm!gf who thinks it’s really cool how much you read and finds it cute when you get lost in a book. she just adores to see you in your habitat and will fawn over your book collection knowing damn well she doesn’t wear much herself.

“you think it’s cute? for real?”

“course i do. especially when it’s someone attractive but also reallyyy sweet and smart. just like you.”

gwen with bookworm!gf who will literally buy you anything off your book list, surprise you with special editions with extra money she told her dad she needed for lunch, and drive you to barns & nobles just to follow you around like a puppy and admire how beautiful you look while doing something you love.

gwen with bookworm!gf who absolutely loves it when you can’t shut up about a book. she’ll know nothing about it but the way your eyes light up and your expressions keep changing as you frantically talk with your hands about something that truly gagged you in the storyline. gwen has secretly taken photos of you reading or videos while you’re talking about a recent read. she either shows them to you later or just keeps them for herself to watch later when she misses you while on patrol or when you two are apart.

gwen with bookworm!gf who begs you to read to her. gwen loved the sound of your voice as is, but for her to cuddle into you after a long day of being the city’s protector and listen to you read aloud for her as she feels her eyelids get heavy and her breath tickles against your neck? heaven. absolute heaven for her.

gwen with bookworm!gf who will literally break into a million pieces if you let her borrow a book you been seeing her eyeing in your room for a while every time she breaks in through your window. she will feel so special like the only girl in the world if you trust her with your books because she knows how you are about taking care of them and will kill someone just for doing the bare minimum of damage by bending the spine, folding a page, missing papers, etc… she knows you.

gwen with bookworm!gf who feels her chest get warm when she sees all the annotations in your books. especially if it’s a book that you lend her and she’s at home, laid back on her bed as she flips through the pages with her calloused finger tips, and sees all your little writings. gwen will trace your handwriting and smile as she feels the indents of the pen against the paper texture. she melts seeing your frantic thoughts on each page from the highlighting, underlining, and full on analysis done on each page to the silly little sticky notes with comments and stuff you wanna remember like “this guy is dumb as hell.” can and will fawn, giggle, and obsess over your being for the whole night she reads along and sees your annotations.

“god, this girl is gonna be the death of me.”

gwen with bookworm!gf who wants to read with you soooooo bad but is too shy to ask. something so domestic like just reading with her girlfriend fills her thoughts sometimes when she gets lost in herself and just misses your presence. gwen would love to just have you sat in her lap with her arms around your waist as she snuggles into your neck while you both lean back on her bed against the pillows and take turns reading paragraphs. even just the two of you cuddling in bed and holding one hand each on the book, head to head, taking turns reading while gwen makes her little comments is just OME of her favorite things to do with you. especially if it’s a really shitty book she convinced you to read for fun.

gwen with bookworm!gf who gets more into reading just because of you. it comes from a place of trying to impress you but also just wanting to embrace a hobby of yours the same way you do to her. she thinks it’s good to indulge in what your significant other likes to do— just like how you let her teach you how to play the drums… or at least play around and try. she thinks it’s fun sharing the love of something she loves to do with the person she loves. so reading your books and surprising you when you tell her about the book and she opens her mouth and says what happens next before you just to see the gobsmacked look on your face before your mouth stretches into a smile? god, she can’t get enough of it.

gwen with bookworm!gf who teases you if you read romance novels. you will never hear the end of it if you slip up and mention something in a book that flustered you because she will start acting bold again.

“you liked it that much, huh. wanna try it? i bet you imagine them as us-”

“gwen watch how i slap you with this 2 pound of paper weaponry.”

gwen with bookworm!gf who can get a little jealous of your books. it’s childish, really. and trust she knows this. yes, it’s normal for you to be reading while you’re in your room and she stops by to see you. but gwen can’t help but come up behind you and start trailing kisses from behind your ear, to the nape of your neck, all the way to your shoulders as you whimper and defeat and finally turn your attention to her. she wants you all to herself sometimes and she’s working on it.

gwen with bookworm!gf who loves to take you on library dates. she’ll drive you, i mean she doesn’t mind since you’re her passenger princess let’s be real, but she likes walking you there when she plans something like that. just walking with you hand in hand as you blab about what you’re gonna try and look for and then sit in the corner and read together is just a symphony to her ears and thoughts.

gwen with bookworm!gf who pulls the “can i see your book collection?” just to watch you get riled up. gwen wants to know all your favorite books, what genres you seem to read the most, what you seem to dislike, just everything. she just has this big toothy grin on her face as she watches you sort through piles of books saying which ones were good, made you try, were just stupid and unreadable, etc.

gwen with bookworm!gf who loves it when you send her a quote, character, or section from the book and saying it reminds you of her. especially if it’s a romantic moment like those really aesthetic and beautiful pinterest quotes for mood boards or something stupid a character did. send her that “i’m jealous of your pillows and of your sheets, i want to hear to sound of your heartbeat” type quote and she will fold onto the floor like a beach chair screaming internally.

gwen with bookworm!gf who tries to do literary pick up lines on you just to mess with you or try and get you all flustered.

“babe, you are so unique that nobody can compare to you. while others are just words, you are poetry- pfff”

“you are so damn cheesy. please, enough with the pick up lines that was the most stupid one yet..”

“but i picked it for a reason :(”

gwen with bookworm!gf who will tell off anybody who says something slick to you or makes fun of you for being a heavy reader.

“the hell is your problem? you’re making fun of somebody for literally reading- it’s something you’re supposed to do! you’re worried about the wrong things dude.”

gwen with bookworm!gf who loves having a girlfriend who is smart, beautiful, and is obsessed with her books. gwen will do anything to show her support for you and show how much she appreciates you and your special interests.

“what, you didn’t expect me to stick up to you? nobody talks to my bookworm like that.”

“please dont start acting corny again but… thank you. nobody usually does stuff like that for me.”

“anything for my girl.”

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

[love-toxin]

Are you writing for DMC now? If so, would you consider doing the smut alphabet for V? Your post about V just put me back into DMC’s chokehold omgg

OFC!!! i certainly am and i certainly will for my sweet emo husband <333

V - (a-z)

(cws: gn pronouns, switch!v, mild spit kink, roleplay, body worship/general worshipper complex, teasing, power switching, cockwarming, jealousy, a little somno)

A = Aftercare

Taking care of you after the act is very important to him. Sex in itself is sacred to him, he doesn't downplay the sentiment of you sharing your body with him (and such a beautiful one at that) so he spends quite a lot of time ensuring that you're warm, clean, comfortable, and safe above all else. The only problem is that he's usually completely wiped out after having made love, especially if it was a little rougher than usual or went a little longer, so he has to duck out of the way of your caring hands as you try to get him to sit down and just relax--he is absolutely fine, darling, he promises not to keel over so soon. He would love to have your hands on him in any other situation, but he's determined to provide for you in this area, so you'll just have to watch for once as he stumbles and braces himself especially hard on his cane as he moves to warm up a bath for you.

B = Bondage

Bondage isn't really all that for him, and for good reasons: he likes having your hands on him, and what if he ends up not being able to get you out when you're done? Or hurts you? He'll steer clear of it save for the really gentle stuff--he'd probably be okay with handcuffs, for example, because he could get you out of them fairly easily--although he'd probably be more okay with you tying him up if you end up liking that more. He's not afraid of you getting a little rough with him, after all.

C = Cum

As sensitive as his body can be, it actually takes him quite a long time to cum. It's a little annoying for him when he's alone, since he can't get off as easily and he's honestly not terribly sure how to do it properly--but that means he's usually a bit backed up, so the cum he does release is pretty thick and completely opaque with that pearlescent shade of cream. It's quite satisfying to see that splattered all over your face, or leaking out of you when he's finished and tapping out, and he likes that you think it's especially attractive and when you beg him to give you a nice, big load he's got saved up. His tattoos glow a little when he orgasms, too, which is pretty fascinating to watch. However, he's quick to get a little meek when Griffin comes out later blabbing V's ear off about "feeling more chilled out than usual", and he has to bite his tongue while you laugh, hoping his companions don't think about it too deeply before the chattiest one never lets him live the truth down.

E = Experience

D = Dirty Secret

It takes a while before he feels comfortable enough to introduce the idea, but he really wants to try having you cockwarm him while he reads from his poetry book aloud. Whether by sitting on his lap or having you on your knees while he's nestled deep in your throat, he wants to stroke your hair and praise you between lines as he reads through his favourite poems and feels you trying not to squirm, so you don't distract him. If you do, though, he'll just close his book and insist on you getting all that energy out of your system, and sit back while you ride him all on your own or choke him down to the base until either of you have finished--and then he can go right back to reading, either with his cum leaking out of you and down into his lap, or spilling down your throat for you to whimper and try to swallow without distracting him again.

Obviously he's got very little experience, at least consciously--he probably has a few inklings of muscle memory left over from you-know-who, so his instincts are probably a little better than you would expect. But V still likes to be shown what you enjoy, and he wants to learn from the source how to please you. So a little handholding in the beginning is necessary for him to grasp how his darling likes to be touched.

F = Favourite Position

He likes any position that has you on top of him, particularly when you're riding him and he can rest his hands on your waist to steady you. Not only does it leave little room for him to lose steam and end up disappointing you when he collapses, but he loves to worship you from below and gaze up at you like you're an angel that's descended on him straight from the heavens. That's where you belong, you know: above him, above the world, because you're the most precious thing to have ever graced it.

G = Gloat

You want him to be mean? He can be mean....if you piss him off for real. You hate how protective he is? How he doesn't want you killing demons, even if it's literally your job? How he's an idiot if he thinks you can't protect yourself without him? That's a one-way ticket to earning yourself a hand on your throat and a glower that could cut you when he's got you pinned to a wall. One moan trickling out your mouth immediately catches him on to your little game, and just when you thought you had him wrapped around your finger completely, he's dropping you to fall to your knees and bringing his cane around to stick it between them. He holds it firm and nestles it right up in that sweet spot--and all you have to do to improve his mood is make yourself cum. You can do that, can you not? Or maybe you'll save your dignity and just admit that maybe, just maybe, you can't do everything by yourself.

H = Hair

The hair he's got is sparse, but a more important detail about his hair is what he likes to do with it. He loves having his hair pulled, and he can't pinpoint exactly what's so attractive about it, but whatever it is it makes his back arch and his arms shake whenever you give those black locks a good tug. He likes when you play with it too, when you smooth it away from his face, tuck it behind his ear, wash it, run your fingers through it--no matter how much Griffin makes fun of him for it, V will lay his head in your lap and let you touch his hair even when there's people around. It's impossible to help how good it feels, and the smile and the earnest "You look so handsome, honey!" when he asks you how you feel about it when it turns white just fills his heart with so much warmth.

I = Intoxication

Oh, he doesn't drink, but he's more than happy to care for you when you're stumbling over yourself. It's a little difficult when you're unsteady on your feet but when he gets you into bed, it's exponentially easier to watch over you. And each time you make a reach for him, or tug at his pants with a lusty whisper in his ear, he sweetly thanks you for the compliment with a chuckle before gently laying you back down. He's only got so much energy to spare day to day, and he'd much rather use it when you're sober rather than when you won't remember much.

J = Jack off

As aforementioned, V is a little less experienced in the self-pleasure aspect. He hasn't had much time or much thought in his head to masturbate, so if and when he does, he's a little....unsure. Pair that with the fact that it takes him awhile to cum, and he's usually burnt out and frustrated rather than relieved when he finally gives up. It honestly makes him a little wary about being intimate with you before you try it for the first time together, because he's worried he'll make it into an absolute disaster that ends in neither of you getting off. Thankfully, he soon realizes that not only is that not the case, but that the journey is often times even more exhilarating than the destination.

K = Kiss

Kisses! What a wonderful thing. V absolutely cannot get enough of them--each one has him blushing, smiling, eager for more, and that only escalates in an intimate setting. He could lay you down and kiss every inch of your body for an eternity, to study your reactions every time he kisses a more intimate or sensitive spot is a complete dream to him. He memorizes the places you like to be kissed the most, and he totally demolishes you there with his mouth as he makes love to you. If he could, he would get a tattoo of your kiss marks all over his skin, just to feel like you've always left those pretty stains on him and that you're with him wherever he goes.

L = Lazy

Less so laziness, moreso not having the strength or the energy to get up and get moving--he has more of those days than the average man, and he has endless apologies for not being able to fend for himself as he should. He's really not used to how sweet you can be about it, how you offer to close the distance for him--how you touch him under his clothes as you perch in his lap, whispers racing shivers up his spine as his head tilts back and he submits himself to be at your mercy. On those days nothing feels better than being at your beck and call, and letting you dominate him however you wish.

M = Marking

Speaking of marking, he loves that shit. Marking him, marking you, doesn't matter--he's got some inner desire that's immediately sated when he sees you or himself donned in each other's marks. Whether it's lipstick stains, bruises, bites, hickies, or even cum, V loves it so much he practically craves it. He has no shame about walking around with your mark on him and if he sees you doing the same, or even just rubbing those spots that he knows he left bruises or bites in your skin, he gets all riled up and does a lot of shifting and throat clearing until he can slip away and get you into the closest area of privacy for a little alone time.

N = CNC

Much like bondage, it doesn't really strike him as being his thing. Honestly, he dislikes the idea of you not wanting him period....but that doesn't mean he's not willing to give it a try if you'd like him to, because he's pretty good at playing the part. And the one fantasy he kinda likes is one that plays on the whole "Demons and Hunters" idea, where one of you is the demon wreaking havoc and the other is the hunter sent to destroy them. Whether the demon is dominant or the hunter is and whoever you two end up playing, it's usually a pretty good time to get straddled or to hold you down as he whispers about "reforming your fiendish ways", all while you both fight for dominance so you can take whatever you want from the other. Plus, he gets to see that sweet face of yours twist up with emotion whether it's in victory or defeat, which is by far his favourite part.

O = Oral

He definitely does not have a preference because it blows his mind whether he's giving or receiving, but he also has no preference for what he's going down on, either. He's fascinated by what you look like down there, he's got that urge inside him to explore and to discover all those things about you that only he's permitted to see, so practically anything about you is cause for his intrigue. Whether you have hair or don't, what kind of reactions you show him when he kisses his way down your inner thighs, whether you buck into him or shyly squeeze your eyes shut....goodness, you're just so perfect in every way, he could have you on his tongue for hours and never get bored of watching you cum for him. Somehow, even when you're the one sucking him off, he can end up switching it so you're the one on your back and he's the one with his head between your legs.

P = Panties

Q = Quickie

Stealing your underwear? No, of course, he would never do that....he professes it so smugly, and yet he'll turn around and you'll spot a little blot of colour peeking out from his back pocket, knowing fully well that it's yours and he's saving it for later. V's not a rampant panty thief by any means, but he certainly steals a pair every so often either to tease you, or because he genuinely misses you. Or, sometimes, if you're mad at him or he's mad at you--holding those up to his mouth and smelling them a little instantly gives him a head rush, and stirs his groin as he thinks only of you. Sometimes it's the quickest way to get over those little arguments and squabbles.

Usually V doesn't engage in a quickie unless you're the one encouraging it. He likes to think he can keep his composure even under duress and he does, but if his sweet angel needs him so badly you're tugging on his arm and whimpering even when there's people within earshot, he's certainly not going to be the one to turn you away. It's hard to get him to speed things up like that since he likes going slow, but if you take control a little bit then you'll be happy to see that he's prepared to do whatever it takes to get you off, even if it means making a fool of himself and looking heavily disheveled when you rejoin your companions.

R = Risk

Honestly, he's not risking much during sex other than his bodily health and his exhaustion. You can pretty much do whatever you want without worry, because not only is he completely devoted to you and therefore has little to no chance of catching anything, but he can't exactly....produce anything, with him not really being completely human. So pregnancy isn't too much of an issue, and he hasn't ever really had space to think about it, so as long as you're still comfortable with it he's more than happy to do it unprotected as often as you want. Of course the only thing he could be risky with is his health, so if he's having a pretty good pain day and he's in the mood, he might ask if you want to try ruining him tonight--just doing it over and over and over until he literally can't move, and you can pretty much just use him for your pleasure in whatever way you wish. It's a rare pleasure, but a pleasure for him all the same when it's with you.

S = Spit

Spitting on you he can certainly do, but spitting in you is objectively even more arousing to him. He loves that moment when he's getting ready to slide in, pushing your legs back or pulling your mouth open to lean over and spit directly inside--it's dirty and it's filthy and it makes him feel like you're his. When you moan in reply it makes him feel powerful, makes him feel wanted, and he just loses his mind when you turn right around and do the same thing to him; spit on his tongue or the tip of his cock before you start lapping at it. And when you're kissing, all sloppy and needy as you're taking his cock, and you both break away to find a trail of spit connecting your swollen lips? That's something that could make him cum so hard his whole world blurs out and he just has to cling to you and bury his face in your chest as he paints your insides white.

T = Toys

He pretends to be uninterested when you whip something like that out, perhaps even unimpressed. But if you like something, he truly can't ignore it, even though he will tease you about it until you give him a reason to shut that pretty mouth of his. "Why would I have need an artifact such as that, when I have the most delightful-hrk!" He certainly bites his tongue when you ease your new fleshlight down on the tip of his stiff cock, and very quickly help him realize there's a whole world of sensations he's never experienced--but he's going to, if you have anything to say about it. Even if he moans and whines about you fucking him with it and making him waste a cumshot inside that stupid toy, rather than inside the warm, welcoming, angelic walls of the love of his life.

U = Unfair

He's a little unfair sometimes, he's gotta balance out all that worship he's so prone to giving you, after all. He might tease you about being needy, or for staring at him when you think he's not looking, or he'll even get cocky enough to tease you when you're right on the edge and ask you to tell him just how much you want it while you're trembling on his cock. It's so cute when you whine and take it and relent into begging him for what you want, but he likes it just as much when it pisses you off and you manhandle him for it--pushing him up against a wall or pinning his wrists down while you're sat in his lap, and either groping him and mocking him for getting hard, or riding him so roughly he gasps and his hips ache while you throw his words back in his face.

V = Volume

Surprisingly, he's not terribly loud. One would think he'd have trouble controlling his volume, but he's naturally pretty soft-spoken and he's usually not too bad at keeping himself in check when he needs to. That means you might not always catch what he says, though, but you can assume it's usually something along the lines of "I love you, please keep going, you're such an angel, I'll give you everything forever, you feel like heaven on my skin," if not some poetry he's kept in mind when he read it and thought of you.

W = Wildcard

Despite having at least some respect for Dante, V is wildly jealous of him and despises any moment you spend around him, even if he's with you. You can only assume where that comes from, but either way you can use it for your benefit if your beloved pisses you off or if you just want attention from him that you're not getting. Let Dante flirt with you for a little bit, and V will be on top of you the second you're alone with an incredible kind of strength you seldom ever see. That's an occasion where you'll most likely be sneaking away with a limp and have to cover up the marks he leaves for days.

X = X-Ray

It's both adorable and shocking that V thinks he's not that big, especially since he's absolutely a shower over a grower. He's pretty long but not all slender, his cock has a curve upwards when it's stiff and the tip takes on that pretty, purplish hue when he's really needy--he's also got a few visible veins running up the length of it that are even more sensitive than he is, and although he makes it out to be not a big deal, he can't help the smugness that fills his head when he lowers you down on him that first time and sees the way you gasp and flinch as you try to adjust. If you make any comments about how you can feel him stretching you out, or that he's so deep you swear he's shaping you to fit his cock alone, it's a surefire way to have V melting like putty in your hands and giving you absolutely whatever you want.

Z = Zzz

Y = Yearning

When does V not desire you? The answer is never. You're the person who makes him feel loved, and he always feels so protected from the world whenever he's with you. Expressing that adoration he has for you can only be done in the same few ways before he has to intensify it--reading poetry and speaking sweet words to you only go so far, they don't express it completely, and when he feels he needs to show it more is when you have the sweetest, most intense sharing of souls and bodies that you may ever experience in this life.

Seeing you sleep next to him, completely at ease and comfortable in his presence, is a triumph that he never takes for granted. Never once has he thought he'd have such deep, pure love as the kind he has with you, so to see it shown in such a humble and vulnerable way makes him feel as though he has the whole world in his arms. So if you give him permission to entertain himself while you're in that most vulnerable state, V is beyond flattered--but when he does take you up on your offer, he almost always ensures he does so just before he knows you're going to wake up. It's such a privilege to make love to you at any time, but it's far more indulging to get to see those reactions of yours when you wake up to him kissing those precious spots between your legs. Or, even better, hovering over you with shaky breaths as he confesses his love, just before pressing himself inside to creampie you right as you're waking up.

[cvlutos]

“I like to Write”

| Repost: 02.18.23 | 1.1 K | Rated PG |

Malleus D., Rook H., Idia S., Azul A. X GN!Writer!Reader

| Characters18+ | Headcannons | Super Sweet | Suggestive w/ Idia | Fluff | Platonic/Romantic Relationships | Proceed with Caution, Beloved. |

T.Manor.Requests: For the Lovely @sidra-29 Thank you for the request!!

I was WAITING FOR THIS-

Ahem… Can I request Malleus, Rook, Idia and Azul with a Gn!Reader who writes stuff. Like books and all on the internet and sometimes they even write some special things for our boys

Take your time and stay healthy dear !

♡ Malleus Draconia ♡

Malleus Draconia is a lot of things, and one of them is being super supportive.

♡♡ Whether you’re his partner or simply his friend, he is guaranteed to be your biggest fan. Even if all you write is dribbles or short little things, nonetheless he’s reading. If you write fanfic, he will take it very seriously and be highly entertained by it. If it makes you happy, it makes him happier. If you want tips or constructive criticism, he’ll give it. If you just want his genuine reaction, he’ll do that as well.

♡♡ He keeps all of your work. Even if you hate it, he keeps it and stores it away, so that later you’ll see your progress, he’s super encouraging and won’t ever call your work badly, but he might allude to something not being your best piece, but he doesn’t fault for it. Anything your write for him, he wont stop talking about it. Like will casually bring it up, and if you dont write something for anyone else, he is so smug.

♡♡ He also likes to stand over you when you write. Sometimes he’s doing his own thing while you type. But when you write with pen and paper, he likes to stand over you. Silently watching your hand move back and forth. He likes your handwriting and likes seeing how you write. How your ‘a’s curl and how you dot your ‘i’s. For some odd reason, he enjoys it, and no matter how messy it is, he can read it well. [100% guarantee Lilia’s handwriting half the time is horrendous and unreadable.]

“Whatever you write, it is an absolute pleasure for me to read. Always.”

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Rook Hunt ♡

Rook is somewhat of a writer himself, though he only sticks to poetry. Though finds beauty in longer length stories.

♡♡ If you write, he’s considering this a time for you and him to get snacks and read each other’s pieces. Aloud or silently, though over time, it changes into Rook wanting to act out scenes with you. Scenes with the slightest hint of romance. Whether you’re romantic or platonic, he’s going to want to act out scenes. He does love a good tragedy. But Rook is also super supportive and loves sharing your story ideas. If your write fanfic, Rook likes it too. A little too much to the point he’s subconsciously shipping people. He finds it so much fun, he won’t play matchmaker, but he loves watching it unfold naturally.

♡♡ Just like Malleus, he’s keeping all your writings. Each and every single one, half of which you aren’t sure how he found or got, but he has them. Heavily protected. But let you write him something specifically for him. He’s reading it every day, before bed, when he wakes up. He won’t tell anyone about it, but Vil knows, cause he accidentally mentioned it.

♡♡ Rook, also like Malleus, likes your handwriting. But oddly enough, has it memorized and if he wanted to, he could easily replicate it. Wouldn’t, but if he wanted to impersonate you, he could. Casually mentions it all the time. If you have a blog or any socials, he’s always in your comments sections acting up. Writing full poems and paragraphs.

“Oh ! Ça doit être la meilleure histoire écrite à ce jour~ Je dois en lire plus !”

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Idia Shroud ♡

You and Him fanfic when?

♡♡ He’d never ask. He would rather let his HP drop to zero and face the final boss with low-grade weapons. In fact, Idia would never talk about you writing, and would simply leave you be. Not out of not caring but more out of fear that if he tries to talk about it, he’ll seem like some normie who knows not a damn thing.

♡♡ Idia had read fanfiction, that’s it. Has tabs saved, so if you do “official writing”, he’s going to be unsure of what to do. If you write fanfic though and post online, he’s sending in anonymous requests, anonymous commissions of his favorite characters. If you write for a fandom he doesn’t know, he’ll binge it.

♡♡ If you write anything for him, he’s done for. K.Oed. Zero Health, and he lost all his EXP. He’s at the beginner level and has to mass farm everything back before he can even read it. He’ll thank you, but won’t touch it for days before he forces himself too while screeching. If it’s cute and sweet, he’s a mess, snot bubbles and tears. If it is remotely sexual—well—he might need a new copy. Though unlike the first two, he doesn’t really care for you handwriting, it’s yours, but he likes to see you type, especially if you type hella fast.

“—YOU WHAT—I mean… Thank you for the… For the… Mm—Thank you for the story….”

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ Azul Ashengrotto ♡

*Cue him thinking of ways to make money with your writing*

♡♡ He views it as an admirable talent. Azul only writes essays, reports, documents. And a lot of contracts, so idle writing really isn’t his thing. He’s tried, but most of it comes out messy, so he sticks to reading. So if you write, he’s requesting something to pass the time. He also enjoys it when someone, especially your friends, asks what he’s reading. He will brag and be like “[Name]’s work. Oh, you haven’t read any.. Well then…” He’s an instigator.

♡♡ He will definitely mention your writing to his mother, especially if it was a gift from you for him about him. He’s rambling to his mom about how talented you are. He refuses to tell the twins about it, but they undeniably know and tease him about it. Any chance they get, they’ll use it as ammunition. But it won’t be just Azul, but you, too. I mean, you wrote it for their dormleader. You must love him~

♡♡ Other than that, Azul won’t interfere. If you want to share and write in his presence, you can. If you want to tell him your ideas and plans, hell gladly listen. Hell gives critics on overused ideas, views him as your personal editor. He will host events in the Mostro Longue for you, to give you more exposure. [A third of the event was the twins giving out threats if they didn’t support you.]

“I mean, you are, uh, dear to me. So your success is mine of course I would and will provide all I can.”

ⓒ 2023 love-thanatopsis — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[morelikeravenbore]

🦋 Writer Interview Game

Thank you for tagging me @theladyofshalott1989! Everyone go read her Like Moths to a Flame series pls (it's on my to-read list and I'm really looking forward to it!)

When did you start writing?

I've been writing for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid, I used to hand write entire novels lol. At school, they'd assign us a little writing project and I'd show up with like 28 chapters, ongoing. I remember reading one story aloud once and the whole room was dead quiet after, and one girl goes: "whoa." anyway, eventually they were like, hey I think this kid is gifted (or autistic LOL but why not both.)

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write? 

Not really haha. My brain really goes: HEY WE REALLY REALLY REALLY LIKE THIS ONE THING AND WE'RE NOT INTERESTED IN ANYTHING ELSE. I mean, I do enjoy reading non-fiction, and I love the classics, but mostly I like fiction/romance/light fantasy stuff. 

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often? 

Nah. I just write like me. I guess the HP series had a huge influence on me since I was SO obsessed with it, which is probably why I write past tense/third pov limited. Sometimes I'll re-read a lot of Austen and end up using a bunch of old timey words in my next chapter, but mostly I just write and it comes out sounding like me. 

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space? 

I don't have one. I write 99.9% of my work on my phone wherever I happen to be. My brain is chaos but it works for me. (Right now I am writing this on the beach while my dog digs holes beside me.)

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

It's kinda rare that I can't find a muse. Usually I just burn myself out, so reading, resting and rotting helps restore my creative energy.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

HahahhA y'all this is too personal for me *sweats* but yes: grief and shitty parents. No, that does not surprise me. I also seem to have a thing about orphans and red heads.

What is your reason for writing?

I don't know how to stop.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

With fanfic, when people tell me my characterisations of canon characters are spot on, or when people tell me my original characters feel like canon characters, hehe.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I don't want to be thought about by my readers at all, which is why I'll always write as an anonymous gremlin. And as far as my characters and stories go, I honestly don't give much thought to it. People are free to think what they like, it doesn't really bother me.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Getting inside my characters heads, I think. Understanding their motivations and writing them as real and flawed and human as I can.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Honestly, I love it haha! Sometimes I might cry for three days believing that I'm absolute garbage, but that's just life innit. Mostly, I write because it's one of the greatest sources of joy in my life and it just makes me happy.

Np tags: @galaxiasgreen @lyworth @gingerlegacy07 @sloanesallow @thesuperiorfeeling

[jasper-book-stash]

June-August 2024 Reading Wrap-Up

Hey, sorry for disappearing off of the face of Tumblr for uhhhh three months, but I read twelve books in that time and I'm here to complain.

Religious Text

None applicable.

1/10 - Why Did They Publish This?

Moonbeams and Ashes: Tales of Mystery, Love, and the Paranormal | Margarite Stever

I picked this up from some bookstore here in Missouri under the local authors shelf. I wish I hadn't. These stories were all poorly written, and a good chunk had nothing to do with mystery, love, OR the paranormal. They weren't even bad in the fun way.

2/10 - Trash

None applicable.

3/10 - Meh

My Mother Road | Phyllis York

I picked this up from some OTHER bookstore here in Missouri under the local authors shelf. I wished this book had ended 480 pages sooner. The only highlight was at the end when the grandpa physically kicked a guy off of the porch.

Athena's Child | Hannah Lynn

A Greek myth "retelling" centering around Medusa and intercut with Perseus. It...was just mediocre. There wasn't anything interesting about what it did or changed or told, there was no taking the myth and running in a new direction with it, and worse of all we opted for the Ovid's Metamorphoses route but still used the Greek names for the gods.

4 to 6/10 - Mid-Tier

Crossword Poems, volumes 1 and 2 | Robert Norton

Two itty-bitty volumes covering what were apparently once commonly-known poems that you'd be able to remember based on half of the hint. Decent enough stuff, just kinda boring without that historical note.

Shelling Peanuts and Other Odd Odes | Howard Nelson

Another collection of poems that were ultimately mediocre with a few funny or insightful ones. Not bad, just not especially good either.

Songs of Honour | Noble House Publishers

These were, on the whole, better than the other two, but I knocked it down to 6/10 based on the fact that it took me the entire month of July and a third of August to finish. The formatting was lovely and each poem only took a page, but it was ultimately just "good-to-mediocre" on the whole.

7 to 8/10 - Good With Caveats

Outlaw: Champions of Kamigawa | Scott McGough Heretic: Betrayers of Kamigawa | Scott McGough Guardian: Saviors of Kamigawa | Scott McGough

While I personally listed Guardian as a 9/10, I figured I should keep the entire Kamigawa Cycle together. This is the story of Toshiro Umezawa, everyone's favorite fuckup self-centered protagonist dealing with the consequences of his and everyone else's actions. There were a couple times when something was referenced that didn't make sense in the setting (such as angels, Hell, or pixies), and you can definitely feel the "early 2000s white man writing a Japanese setting based on vibes alone" emanating from most of the pages, but I had a good time calling Toshi a dumbfuck over and over again.

9/10 - Very Very Good

None applicable (besides aforementioned Guardian).

10/10 - Unironically Recommend To Everyone

The Tale of Despereaux | Kate DiCamillo

In my book club, we randomly pulled this one as the one for all of us to read at the same time, and let me tell you, this book hits different when you're a queer young adult in your early twenties than it clearly hit the grown women in their 50+'s. Great book, absolutely adorable, and I love the fact that we accidentally timed it to coincide with the release of Bloomburrow.

Scaredy Squirrel: In a Nutshell | Melanie Watt

Yes, this is an Easy-level book. But somehow, this squirrel with anxiety and possibly OCD (yes, I'm projecting slightly, I kept going "he's just like me for real" aloud when I read it) is now one of my favorite fictional guys. And when he was having a meltdown, the other characters actually gave him space and respected his boundaries. Do you know how impossible that is to find in fiction? One of my favorite books now, hands down.

[monpalace]

Okok, so my brain is not working with writing rn BUT i will finish that “reader and time pinning” thing that i was doing I PROMISE

BUT for now imma just share some thoughts of Time because he is THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND I NEED TO RANT ABOUT HIM

*ahem*

Ive said before (on my blog) that Time uses really old and kinda cringey petnames because 1, he genuinely loves them and 2, because he LOVES making the boys squirm in second hand embarrassment. SO, have a few more of those nicknames :D -> snookums, sugarplum, baby cakes, muffin, foxy, and toots

Young time (like teenage/young adult) was an absolute bastard BUT when he falls in love with someone, he is an absolute sweet heart! Think the ‘i hate everyone but you’ trope :3

Young! Time did not know romance AT ALL! That boy was raised by a tree and a bunch if spirit kids, he has know idea what a ‘date’ is. This leads to him just acting the same around his crush but being a little nicer to them

Is then very confused as to why they dont know that he likes them. “It was so obvious? I gave you a piece of my apple pie! I was so clear with my signs 🙄🙄”

He THEN reads all the romance novels he can get his hands on (legally and illegally) just so he can impress them! Completely misunderstood everything and now he just has to straight up tell them, cause how their hair is on fire…somehow

(Modern) Time is totally the type of guy that ‘doesn’t like drama shows’ but if his lover was watching one, he’d stand behind the couch and watch. But when his lover offers to move so he can sit hes like ‘no, im not even watching it. I was just bored’ and the proceeds to watch the next 3 episodes while standing.

(Modern) Time has a leather jacket that he LOVES!! Like he will cut someone for that thing, do not fuck with it. No one is aloud to wear it expect him….And his crush/lover but SHUSH!

Time enjoys polishing his armour/sword while you read a book out aloud. You both find it rather relaxing. Until something dramatic/a polt twists happens, all if the sudden the armour/sword is dropped to the side as Time is BAFFLED by this. “They killed Aaron?! Wh-what? Why!? He was the best choice for Max!” (Hes so invested, his duties are now discarded until you two finish this chapter)

I wanna do more but this is kinda chunky :3

I love dis man so much 🫶🫶

THE WAY I PHYSICALLY AND VERBALLY CRINGED AT FOXY??? bro's the type to say "hey foxy mama" when you walk into a room unironically, he literally has no shame whatsoever whenever someone points out how dated that sounds to

time would fit the secret admirer trope so well though? but he wouldn't even be secret about it?? the lon lon sisters def gave him the advice to "just be himself" and that gave him the idea to take stuff from his woodland-spirit background

"link, why is my house filled with flowers from floor to ceiling."

"that's not a declaration of adoration here? huh."

AND HIM TAKING THE ROMANCE BOOKS? personally, i feel like he's the type to sneak into the library when (supposedly) nobodies looking and just taking whatever he can carry before sneaking back out-- but in actuality it's just that nobody cares

someone asked zelda if he was allowed to take the books because they've been coming back in a damaged state (it's not bad, but while he's workshopping how he's gonna bring words to reality, he messes up a little) and she just says its fine so long as he isn't committing crimes with them (which he has done. several times. no one knows)

ofc there are questions as to WHY he's taking the romance books specifically, but the guards and librarians just chalk it up to him entering his weird boy phase ™️ and not because he has an interest in somebody because him?? having a love interest before half the other people in the castle??? Nah.

you catch modern! time watching a (raunchy) reality show once (like love island, or jersey shore-- maybe even teen mom) and he swears up, down, to the golden three, and to the sand goddess that he just kept it on for noise and that he's paying all his attention to his work even though you caught him ON VIDEO having the most expressive reactions to certain moments

BUT THE LEATHER JACKET ONE?? someone walks up to you while you're wearing it (your relationship with time isn't common knowledge yet) and they make a joke about him burying them alive if they mess it up-- no less just because you're wearing it.

time pops up out of literal thin air making excuses that you were cold (you were not), he was hot and didn't feel like carrying it (his goosebumps say otherwise), he thought there was a tear and he wanted to try and fix it (.. yeah, okay.), he only gave it to you because you said it would go with your outfit (that is not the only reason he'd give it to you), and everything else just to try to hide the fact that he's soft

(also, bonus points if you made it??? now not even the goddesses could touch it. he's about three seconds away from giving into the inner ferality of his childhood self and biting someone if they even look at it)

but tell me why i just imagine time getting ready to like, get in a fight or something, you read something so earth-shatteringly shocking in the book, and he's immediately like "the battle can wait. [opponent] was gonna lose anyways. we have to figure out what the devil is about to happen"

i'm literally scooping ur brain from ur skull, putting it on a table, and i'm gonna examine it for the rest of ur ideas mwah