#i lo v e him

[anatomicaltheater]

i miss syd

[yanmuffins]

how are we feeling about a yandere! platonic! batfamily x neglected! vampire! reader with some heavy v*mpire t*e m*squer*de influece in honor of halloween season?? here's my cringefail concept that i might turn into a fic.

tw: neglect mention, non-con biting, non-con turning since reader isn't given a choice in being a vamp.

you're bruce's firstborn child who's lived in the manor for most of your life, with alfred being your primary caretaker and bruce not giving you much thought throughout your childhood - you're not fit to be robin (though he tried), you're not in the streets of gotham in danger or causing trouble - you're a well-behaved child who never gets in the way and never asks for too much. you understand when he breaks promises, when alfred shows up to special events in his stead because he's too busy with work, too busy being batman, too busy caring for troubled children who need his attention more than you do.

even as you see him make time for his other children, for his romantic affairs - even as the relationships you build with your siblings never goes beyond shallow small-talk and awkward silences, you understand. they have their own lives to worry about, their own issues, so many things they can bond over with each other but not with you. you're not a robin, you're not a vigilante, you're not athetically inclined and even as you do your best to be accomodating and warm, you can never get past their walls.

even when damian arrives and gets more familial bonding with bruce than you ever had, you lower your head and you walk away. you take his berating with a condescending smile and a disappointed sigh that makes him so irrationally angry, because he's a troubled child and he doesn't know any better.

you're ordinary, boring in comparison to them. you fade into the background with and without effort. you're just... easy to forget about. you don't require special care, or guidance, you don't go overboard trying to beat the living shit out of criminals like jason, you don't try to sneak out of the manor like damian. you don't disappoint. you don't impress. you're just... there. when bruce checks up on you, there's a signature smile you've perfected over the years you give him, telling him you're perfectly fine.

and you grow up. you grow distant. a bit of resentment, but you keep it locked deep within your heart. you are a student in gotham university, and you get intern for a big-shot from los angeles who just moved to gotham to expand their business. they shower you with praises and attention, taking you all sorts of places, introducing you to all sorts of people. because your father hid you from the public eye for most your life, the fact you're a wayne goes mostly unnoticed.

there's just one strange detail: it's a full-on night-shift. ironic, you concede, that you couldn't escape the nights of gotham by being a civilian. your family notices it, too: you don't dress like you used to, like you prefer to, there's a waver in your usually composed steps, bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep, an apparent mind-fog whenever someone asks you a question, a certain distance in your gaze. you sleep the days away, and the amount of times they've seen you entering and leaving less-than-ideal places (that one nightclub they have noticed suspicious activity on? just what are you doing there?) for a sheltered young adult to be during their patrols is starting to become concerning.

but you swear it's fine. it's all fine. you're fine. stop meddling.

and then there's the night - before any of the batsiblings start to really get a grip on what's going on with you, before bruce can give you a stern lecture on how you're exposing yourself to danger and how he's so disappointed and didn't expect this from you and force you to quit your job and just go back to how you were before - when that eccentric bigshot you're working for brings you to the VIP room at the nightclub, says you have potential, babbles on and on about how far you're gonna go, making you bubble inside with pride and happiness at finally being fawned over for a change.

and then they kill you.

draining you of all your blood, feeding you a bit of theirs before locking you up in a room where you'll be provided with proper refreshments to keep your hunger at bay until you've become a fully-embraced fledgling ready to learn the ins and outs of your new... unlife. you are a wayne, firstborn child of gotham's local billionaire, the camarilla's golden ticket to taking over gotham. they all expect much of you.

meanwhile, the text in alfred's phone says you'll be gone for a while. business trip to paris, your first ever, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity a rich girl with ample privilege and access to private jets couldn't possibly refuse. he doesn't believe it for a second, not even when you call to assure everything is just fine. he knows you're not, everyone knows you're not. there's a tracer in your phone and guess what, you're not in paris.

there is no comeuppance for your sire when the batfamily breaks you out of captivity, as they are long gone by the time the incident is ruled out as a bunch of goons targeting the wayne family for money (nevermind no ransom was ever requested). they'll come back for you, they swear, plans just got... delayed by this preposterous man wearing a bat-suit. until then, do as they taught you, keep yourself fed, don't break the masquerade.

but your newfound freedom lasts exactly a car ride to the wayne manor before you're prohibited from leaving the house for the foreseeable future. when the hunger comes, you can either tell them what happened or let yourself loose with a risk of hurting someone. when the sun shines through the windows and burns your skin, you won't be able to hide it anymore. the choice between your now overbearing family, still unsure how to help you, and the tutelage of your sire, being subjected to all the plans they have for you. the vampires are slowly crawling their way into gotham, and it's only a matter of time before batman becomes a problem.

you remember looking up at the bat signal shining in the dark skies of gotham city and feel a pang of relief in your chest, knowing it had nothing to do with you. now it just makes you feel anxious.

it's ironic, you concede, that you couldn't escape the nights of gotham by being a civilian.

[venus-vault]

The Wife Of A Close Friend

Daniel Cleaver × Fem! Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Part 2 - After successfully ruining (y/n)'s marriage to Mark Darcy, Daniel tries to make things right.

⚠️ TW: Raw P in V Penetration, Fingering, Mention of Cheating, Mild Daddy Kink, Alcohol Consumption (All Parties of Age), General Smut.

Daniel reached out via my work e-mail three days after Christmas with an invitation to dinner for an attempt at amends, and against my better judgement, I accepted. So here we are, at Le Gavroche, amending.

"So, (y/n)... how's Mr. Darcy then? Tad depressed, I'd imagine."

"I wouldn't know. He's still not taking my calls."

"Oh. Right...right. Tragic, that. I so hoped you two might work things out..."

"Hm. For some reason, I don't believe you." I smirk.

"Wasn't asking you to believe me. Listen, I-"

A waiter sets down two glasses and a chilled bottle before us and we simper up at him for breaking the awkward tension.

"Thanks," we patronize in unison and he flashes us an 'I'm not paid enough to deal with pricks like you' smile before turning to attend to another table.

Daniel pours our glasses and I take a long, much needed swig of the chardonnay he's ordered us, inhaling the notes as I do. It's tart, sweet...strong.

Closing my eyes, I sigh heavily before looking back up at him. He plays a good kicked puppy in a navy jacket and white button down, I'll give him that. Tonight however, I am determined not to fall for it... which is going to be a challenge if he keeps looking at me like he desperately needs something only I can provide.

My eyes snap down into my glass, as though its rapidly dwindling contents are of more interest or import than the gorgeous man sat pouting across from me.

"(y/n). I'm sorry. But I did mean what I said. I adore you. Obsess over you, Genuinely. Anyone could tell he wasn't satisfying to you, in any sense, you were so tense, so... twitchy."

"I strongly advise you not to act like you've done me any grand favors lately, Daniel."

"It does take two, you realize..."

I narrow my eyes at him. He's right and ultimately I should've slammed the door in his face, I should've hung up the phone at the sound of his voice, I should've done a lot of things... but I didn't. I picked up, I let him in, I fucked him... I loved it.

My cheeks burn and I bring the glass to my lips again, taking a quick gulp to finish it off.

"Hate you," I mumble under my breath, barely audible.

"you too,"

"Hm?"

"Hm?"

"Something-something you're so incredibly sorry for ruining my life?"

"Something like that..." a playful smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Y'know...the worst thing about it is you're actually right? I wasn't happy with Mark. But that doesn't excuse your interference. Or my response to it. At all."

"Oh no, obviously not, couldn't."

"Never."

"Ever."

I have to laugh at how thick we're laying it on and he joins me. God, we're a mess.

"Daniel?...Are we...terrible people?"

He takes a sip of his wine, pondering.

"Terrible is a stretch, flawed certainly, indulgent, but I don't think we're terrible... definitely didn't feel terrible when we ..." he murmurs and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he looks up at me. "Did it?"

I can't help but flash him a smile, internally kicking myself as I sip my wine.

"It... didn't, it was still in very bad form, though and we should be ashamed, being adulterers..."

"Well, good. We've established that I'm a very bad boy, you're a very bad girl, together we've done some very bad things, and we are both just so terribly sorry for being so. very. bad.

But answer me something, (y/n)."

"Hm?"

"Why did you agree to come here tonight? It couldn't have been just to hear hollow apologies and make empty assertions about the badness of it all and watch me sulk into a plate of overpriced scallops..."

"Mm, no that's pretty much it, actually... if you wouldn't mind having a cry though, that would make it a little more worth my while," I simper.

"Come on, (y/n). You come here looking sexy as all hell in another of these... microdresses of yours, I do know a tailored Dior trench when I see one... Jo Malone perfume... heels... either you are an extremely high end call girl in your off hours, or you came here with the intention of seducing someone. I'm not opposed to either, but for posterity; which is it?"

"Neither, unfortunately for you. I just like to dress for an occasion-"

"So dinner with me is an occasion, then?"

"You are insufferable-"

"I am just asking,"

"Better question, why'd you invite me here? Is this really about 'making amends', or did you just want to take me out?"

"I don't see why it can't be about both."

I feel my smile grow wider at his words and he is charming.

But he did destroy my marriage, ruin my life, tarnish my reputation... give me the best orgasm I've ever had... and I let him do those things. In a way, the weight of our actions are a shared cross to bear, and with new year's eve tomorrow... I'd rather not feel its weight so heavily.

"Daniel...If I were to take a chance on you... let you in... I'd expect and require you not to make a fool of me."

"I don't think there's a man in the world who could successfully make a fool of you."

"You came pretty close."

"I don't remember coming at all, actually," he smirks. A beat. "Anyways, what I meant to say is: thank you, (y/n), for being here tonight. Your forgiveness would mean the entire world to me, if you do ever find it in your heart to offer it."

His brow furrows, eyes big and innocent as they study my face, he does seem genuinely sorry and maybe people do change.

"No promises."

We feast, drink, laugh, exchange Christmas stories, and after dinner Daniel orders us a cab to his flat for a nightcap.

As we step out of the car, I feel myself stumble a bit and he catches me, arm snaking around my waist to usher me into the lobby. We make a way to the elevator and as he selects a floor, I lean back against the wall, letting my eyes close for a moment.

My body is flushed and warm, head fuzzy, mind whirring, and all I could ever want right now, is for him to touch me... to kiss me. Instead, he speaks.

"(y/n), I just want you to know, there's no pressure for us to do anything here, yeah? Just...drinks. Just conversation. No tricks, no dancing, no Carly Simon, you have my word."

"I know better than to take you at your word, Mr. Cleaver."

"And I know," he steps closer, tilting my head up for eye contact "that when a pretty girl like you calls me 'Mr. Cleaver', it isn't because you respect me..." He smirks down at me, leaning in slowly.

As we kiss, Daniel's hands find their way under my coat, under my dress, and-

bing!

His floor.

I watch him fumble with his keys a little as he unlocks the door for me, hand wandering to the small of my back as he guides me inside.

He flicks on the lights, helping me shed my coat as we meander in, and this place is gorgeous. Open concept, spacious, white tiled floors, suede couches, exposed brick, it's glass walled... and overlooks the whole of the city. As I stand at the window, swooned by the skyline, Daniel extends a glass of champagne to me and I take it.

"What are we toasting?" I sip, looking up at him.

"You, and your generous decision not to hate me forever."

"Well-"

"Your generous decision to very kindly pause your hatred of me for the evening?"

I nod and we clink glasses, sip and stare out at London for a moment. Somewhere down in those bustling streets, Mark is holed up in his office, sullen, filing our divorce paperwork. But I've decided that tonight, just for one night, in this stupidly expensive downtown high rise, for the first time in 5 years, I do not need to be concerned with the goings on of Mark Darcy.

I'm snapped back to reality as Daniel's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer as he finishes off his champagne. "So, contrary to what you've seen in movies, wistfully looking out the rain-pebbled window thinking about him will actually only make you feel worse, who knew?"

"I wasn't, I was just... admiring the view."

"Right. Come on Eleanor Rigby," he takes my glass and his own in hand, setting them down on the coffee table nearest the window. Daniel sweeps my legs out from under me and I let out a surprised squeal as he carries me, bridal style, into the bedroom, gently plopping me down onto the edge of his enormous bed.

I prop myself up on my elbows, confused. "Wh-"

"(y/n), I may be a posh twat with...ambiguous morals, doesn't mean I'll stand by idly and let you needlessly depress yourself over Mark-wanker-Darcy." He lifts a finger "Donnez-moi un instant, cherie."

Of course he speaks french and I watch him shed his belt, dress shirt and trousers, discarding all into a hamper in the corner of the room and tugging on a plain cotton t-shirt from his dresser. Daniel stands at the end of the bed before me. "Now then," he picks up one of my feet, working at the fastenings of my shoe, "let's get these dreadful contraptions off you..." he mumbles, popping the shoe off and tossing it aside before doing the same with the other.

"That's better. Stand for me, yeah?"

I slip off the end of the bed onto my feet before him and he steps closer, hands settling around my waist as he presses a kiss into my forehead. "Gorgeous,"

I feel one of his hands undoing the zipper of my dress and he helps me out of it, placing it on a hanger in the closet. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Daniel's eyes meet mine and he lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm always nice to you. In fact, the last time we saw eachother, I believe I was extraordinarily kind to you..." his eyes flick down my frame for a moment and I watch him nip at his lower lip, brow furrowed as he opens up the dresser again, selecting a random rugby shirt and handing it to me. "There, pop that on and get in bed."

I do, and he's not far behind me, climbing under the covers and pulling me into his arms. Spooning. "I don't like seeing you in distress, (y/n)-"

"Pfft, yes you do-" I laugh.

"Well, sexually speaking, sure but... I just meant," he nuzzles into the hollow of my neck "I don't like seeing you unhappy," a peck "so, I'd like to do," his hand slips over my hip, fingetips ghosting cautiously over the front of my panties "everything in my power to please you, if you'll allow me?" He murmurs.

"I'd appreciate that, " I sigh.

"Would you?" He presses his body up against mine and he is hard. I gasp. "Daniel-"

"Mm?" he hums, "God I've misssed this, (y/n)...the way you feel..." He rubs slow, gentle circles into the front of my panties, I am wet and the friction is delicious as his other arm wraps around my torso, hand resting around my throat and squeezing just slightly.

I've missed him and I moan as he continues grinding against my ass, my core tensing as his grip on my neck tightens. "Those gorgeous little sounds you make..." He lets out a low groan and my mind goes foggy. Heat takes my body over as his fingertips finally find their way under the hem of my panties, gently exploring my folds, slowly gliding up and down the center of my vulva and another gasp escapes me as I rock against his fingers. He carefully dips them into me, curling upward, and I feel myself clench around them in response. The hand around my throat snakes under the hem of the shirt and comes to rest over one breast, lightly playing with a nipple and I need him. "D-Danielll?" I breathe

"Mhmm?"

"I need you t-to fuck mee, please...pleease..." I whine.

"And I will. But only because you ask so nicely..." he withdraws his fingers, giving them a quick taste before helping me shimmy freshly saturated panties down my legs, pushing his oversized shirt higher up my hips. "Turn over." I lay on my stomach and look back at him as he undresses, first goes the shirt... the boxer-briefs... he props my hips... de ja vu.

He's beautiful with swollen lips and disheveled hair, and I watch him align himself with me, eyes locking onto mine.

"Are you ready?"

I nod.

"Words, (y/n)."

"Yess, pleease-"

I gasp and he's inside me instantly. The dilation is intense as he sinks into me and I let out a small yelp.

"Come on, pretty girl... You can take it...Doing so well for me..." I watch Daniel bite his lip, letting out a low groan, and he allows me a moment to adjust to him before starting to move in and out of my center in long, steady strokes.

"Still tight as a fucking bow-string then, mm?" I hear him mutter under his breath.

"Not. For. Long."

I feel myself clench a couple times and seconds later he's ramming into me at a rapid pace, our bodies clapping against eachother as he holds my hips firmly in place. I feel fingers lace into my hair, he yanks my head back fiercely as he continues fucking me and I'm panting, close.

"Danielll?" I whine, tightening up.

"Yesss??"

"Daddyyy?"

"Mhmmm?"

"I-I'm gonna come!"

"Ohhh, oh fuck me-!"

Our orgasm is simultaneous, mind-blowing and Daniel buries his face in the crook of my neck as he finishes, hips slowing gradually.

"Hmm... that was fucking sensational...you. are. incredible. "

"Thank you-u" I stammer. He pulls out of me with a squelch and retrieves his t-shirt from the floor, first cleaning himself off, then placing it gingerly between my legs as I let my body go completely slack against the bed.

Daniel situates himself behind me so we're spooning again and pulls the covers up over us, arms wrapping tightly around me.

"Are you feeling any better, then?" He huffs, draping a leg over mine.

Part 3》

"Much..." I nod, trailing off. My mind is a haze and I feel my eyes start to close as Daniel presses a soft kiss into my temple.

[druidwolf21]

Some soft fluff because what a day I've had and I need this lol

Roboute guilliman/F reader

fluffy

Very short but I needed this out

Dreaming

Guilliman swept a hand across his brow, wiping sweat and grim from his face as he looked up at the sky. The sun beat down heavy on him as he blinked and smiled, returning his gaze to his work.

His muscles worked and burned as he set about scything ears of corn, bringing them down with a long swing. The scythe felt heavy in his hands as he swept it back and forth, focusing only on the heat, the feel of the wood and the soft noise as the plant fell.

And he worked

And worked

Until the sun began to slow edge down.

Taking a long inhale he finally stood straight and stretched, his back cracking after hours of bending. He flexed his hands and smiled at the dull ache he felt.

Making his way through the raining stems, he headed towards the wooden cabin resting at the edge of the field, a soft warm glow flicking in the window and faint smoke spiraling from the chimmney.

His smile stretched further and he ducked through the door and was met by the smell of fresh warm bread the heat of a smokey wood fire and the faint bubbling from a large pot hanging over the flames.

You spun round, your dress twisting around your legs as you met his sapphire eyes and grinned, face still flush from the warm meal you had been cooking.

"roboute! Just in time my love, have a seat and I'll get you a drink" you patted your hands on your apron and collected up a glass and pitcher, setting it at the oaken table and pouring out a drink.

Guilliman sighed gently and sank into a chair, sipping from the glass. The wine was sweet in his tongue as he watched you flitted about the kitchen, filling a bowl with stew and gently placing it in front of him, along with a wedge of still warm bread.

You stood behind him, dropping your arms over his neck and nuzzling up to him, your hair tickled him as rested his head against yours.

"you work so hard, my love" you murmured "perhaps tomorrow the land can wait and we can go to the lake" a slender finger gently traced circles in his chest as you spoke. "I'll even wear that blue dress you like so much"

He twisted and caught your lips in a chaste kiss as your began to pull away.

"of course my lady, I could think of nothing I'd like more"

You gently ran a hand through his blonde hair before taking a seat at the table.

My love

My. Lo o v e

M y L o

My lord

Guilliman jolted slightly and scowled at the voice that dragged him so violently from his revere.

"what, sicarius?"

"The mechanicum have sent a serf to deliver some documents to you and an official from the high lords has also requested a moment of your time"

Guilliman rubbed his brown and gathered his thoughts.

"your lady is also at the door, lord Primark"

Guillimans head shot up and he rose from his seat

"Send her in" he waved to the marine.

You entered through the massive doors, your dress, that blue dress he loved so much, sweeping the floor . Your hair speckled with small shining stones which caught the light as you moved towards his desk. A delicate necklace chain hung from your neck, depending to your cleavage, the ultramarine sigil bouncing on your skin.

"roboute, my sweet, don't you think it's time you took a break" you sighed gently, laying a hand on his as you finally reached the desk.

"the imperium waits for no man, love, not even me" he smiled grimly, eye darting from the necklace and where it hung, up to your face.

You caught the look and smiled

"perhaps we could go to the lake? It's been so long, things will run without you for an hour? You gently kissed his cheek and pressed your forehead to him.

The Primark returned your smile with a dazed look.

He couldn't tell if this was still a dream, but hopefully this one didn't end.

@cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @beckyninja @lemon-russ @moodymisty

[millylotus]

Batfam Favorite Colors

I've been thinking about this mostly cause I don't think Duke like, really likes yellow ya know. And then I realized how many people in the batfam like the color red/have it in like their top two.

Duke! - My guy! My boy! I think his favorite colors are Red & Orange, & like black as an accent color. He doesn't were white often because that's like not easy to clean, and he never really got into the habit even when he started living with the Waynes. The most is like a graphic-tee or basic tee, or undershirt, something that he needs for specific fits ya know. When he was a kid Donnie was his favorite turtle, but Raph is a very close second mainly cause he was the red one. He liked yellow well enough. But when Bruce gave him the Signal suit his feelings on the color changed over time. Signal never really felt like his own thing. He didn't even get to choose the name, and the yellow, and the light and his complicated relationship with both Bruce & Gnomon made him sort of uncomfortable with yellow. He doesn't wear it much out of the suit and he tends to even stray from gold jewelry, sticking to silver and black. He wouldn't say he hates it, both a bit scared & unsure on what that might mean. But nothing in his room is yellow except gifts from those who really don't know him well.

-----

Jason! Jason likes Red, he's always liked red, but when he was younger he like Yellow a bit more. It was the color of the cape [basically a cloak lets be honest] he wore as Robin. And Robin gave him magic. The cape was protection and light all at once. It made him feel special. When he died and came back yellow lost it's luster, it was innocence, it was naivety it was dead magic. And he just wasn't gonna go back to it once he became Red Hood. That perfect little Robin needed his color to be kept sacred. So Jason doesn't wear yellow anymore. Like at all, he avoids it and even gold in most cases. He likes red, cause it's red and it's pretty and once before it might have meant a beating heart, now it meant fresh blood & he doesn't think he deserves any other connotation.

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Timbit! - How I lo(v)(th)e you :)))) Tim's favorite colors are Red, Brown & Gold. He says he likes red more, and he does love red really, but at his heart of hearts it Brown, Gold & Blue. But he felt a need as a child to conform to what the batfamily wanted. He vaguely understood how siblings where with each other & knew he could only have one color to call his own. So he chose red, cause Dick likes Blue, & Jason liked Yellow, & Babs likes Purple. Cause what other color was there. He grew to love Blue because of Dick, that's his brother and that specific shade of electric/sky blue felt like home. But he really likes browns, like genuinely shades of brown are his favorite and his entire house-boat has such nice shades of brown wood. He shrinks away from using white in anything but a clinical setting, and fills all that space with a nice beige or pale gold. Gold & Brown just go so well together how could he not love them both. He loves brown eyes and for a long time unknowingly went for people with brown eyes alot [not me pushing my brown-eyed steph propaganda].

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Dami-baby! Damian's favorite colors are Green, Brown, Black, & Gold. I know most don't like the Al Ghuls, and yeah they're fucked up but so is the Bat-Family, and honestly I think Damian cares about both sides of his family. Sometimes when he's laying in bed, not even trying to sleep he looks at his rooms and yearns lightly for the perfect brown stone walls of his childhood bedroom. Of the beams, columns & spandrels of dark brown, engraved with images of his favorite animals. Of the curtains and fabrics dyed emerald green, with golden cross-stitching. It feels like home. And as times goes on he makes peace with his homesickness, doing so by bringing that green into his things at the manor. Up against the dark brown walls that he'd go and put bright paintings over. He likes black though, never really thought he would and more so forced himself to when he was younger and still trying to be his father. But at some point he grew to genuinely love the color of shadow black. It began to mean home & protection, along the previous danger & deception [though in a better light]. He'd wear it more with a casual air and not so much overthinking about it. They really just are his favorite colors

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Casssssandra! Cass likes Black, White & Rose Gold. Basic as it may seem to you I think she likes them quite alot. She unironically has a very luxury taste for things. She like fine jewelry and master made clothes. Everything in her life is expensive, she lives in the lap of luxury. And that's not in some dumb way where she doesn't know how much things cost. She does & she's very aware, she's just always had this. David Cain might not have taught her how to do much more than fight but every weapon needs far above optimal care. She likes the uniformity of black, the pretty simplicity of it, how it hides shape and movement, a secret all of it's own. She likes white because it accentuates shape, white gets shadows, shadows that show off the light of white. She likes the way they make her feel, all mysterious but also open and accepting. Rose Gold is just the prettiest to her, it's so rich & soft, & bright & mute, it's her favorite metal and any jewelry she has will be made of it.

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Babsy - Bad seed watchu gonna do, got a bully on our tail gotta run we gotta bail! I think her favorite colors are Purple & Green. She grew up loving purple, it was in all of her clothes and accessories. She had strips of her hair dyed purple as a kid & then got those adjustable scene kid extensions in purple. Her Batgirl fit is all purple because she had more purple than black and she wasn't gonna change that. To this day purple is her favorite color, but she'll have seconds here and there. Green is a close second fave, it grew on her as she got older. When she was trying to set her self up as Oracle, it was green that people often associated with Oracles & Tech at the time. So she ran with it for consistency and it eventually became a favorite. It melded in with purple and about a little less than half of her once purple things are now green.

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STE-PHA-NIE-AH! Steph likes Purple, and she's sweet on Black. She's always been a pretty feminine person, a finding herself as a femme latter in life. And Purple was her girly Pink. It just spoke to her it made her feel happy. She wears as much Purple as she can get her hands, and every major item in her wardrobe in Purple. Of course in a coordinated way so it doesn't look ridiculous but still. Black was just a nice accent color for her, before it grew to mean safety & deception, and in a way it compliments her bombastic & free Purple she so loves.

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Hickory-Dick-ory! Dick's favorite colors as a child are Red, Green, & Yellow. Because that's him, that Robin, that's the Graysons. His family legacy carried on in one other iconic performance outfits. For a long time he would never dream of not being in those colors of being Robin. But of course everyone changes, and Dick's favorite colors change. He loves being Robin but he's grown older, in a sense he's molting those colorful feathers. He wants to be a grown man [even though he's still a teenager, somewhere between 16-19], but to the whole world Robin is a child & will always be a child, Batman's sunshine, Batman's hope. Robin is nothing without Batman in that era and Dick knows that. And he still loves Robin he truly deeply does, but he can't be Robin without being seen as a child & he can't fucking stand that he can't have that. So he makes a bit of a pivot. He gets a deepcut V-Neck and skin tight Drag-King fit that honestly absolutely fucks. And he choses a name both so edgy & so cool, and he picks a different costume to base this new him on. And he falls absolutely in love with Blue. And he never falls out of it, he still like Red, Green, & Yellow. But Blue has somehow taken his heart away & is never gonna give it back. Needless to say his wardrobe has done a complete 180 in comparison to when he was 12.

-----

Bruce. o_o His fave is Black, I know a shocker truly, who could have guessed! But he also has a complicated relationship with literally ever other color. Black is simple, it's straight forward, gets the job done. He finds comfort in it's shadow & cover & protection. Of the caves & bats he once found terrifying now bringing him so much peace. But it isn't a solely void color, it's built up of the vibrancy & intensity of every color ever. And with different blacks there are more colors that show through. He likes a nice blue-black, he's been told it goes well with his eyes, but it's also the color of Martha's favorite velvet dress. He gravitates towards red-black because many of his children enjoy that color. In fact if you look close enough & graph it you'll notice Bruce wears specif hues of black depending on which child is most around him.

-----

Random Disclaimer~ - I'm gonna speed blitz the rest of these bat-bitches Kate K! - Red & Black, but in the way that she uses Red to try & recapture her fear of it and use to scare others. Watching he mom blead out red, and her hair in that blood fucked her up. But now she looks like the bloody demon that haunted her. Martha W - She likes creams & pearly colors, and has a special spot for dark blues and such. And enjoys a nice velvet sheen to any and all colors Talia AlG - Her faves are Pink, White, Green, & Gold. Absolutely adores those colors, you will find them everywhere in her wardrobe, but they aren't all she has of course she's a fashionista. Femininity is her, truly.

[lklvz]

I was tossing up whether I should post this or not. But I wanna share it with you all.

If you know me, you know that this is important to me. This is HUGE for me. I love him I love him I LO V E him. 🥹🥹

Tagging my mutual besties that would appreciate this: @darcyfangirlsfrequently @forthegoob @quakeismyhero @depressedgirlwaitingforhs4

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 🧡 Kid Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🧡 the wonderlands by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci {M, 150k}

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

🧡 Flour and Chocolate by teaandtumblr {M, 145k}

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

 OR Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

🧡 Face Your Fears by @sadaveniren {E, 92k}

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

🧡 Just Pretend by @kingsofeverything {E, 90k}

Louis Tomlinson is a divorced dad who doesn't date. What free time he has, he likes to spend with his teenage daughter, and if he wants to take someone home, he does it when she's spending the weekend with her mom.

Then he meets Harry Styles, another divorced dad with a teenage daughter, who convinces him it’s a good idea to pretend they're dating to keep their kids happy.

🧡 Standing on the Edge of Forever by EllaO {M, 55k}

“So let me get this straight. You took Mr. Squiggles from the classroom habitat, took him with you on your fieldtrip to the zoo, and released him in the aviary?”

Harry Styles is a single father, just trying to keep his life organized after losing his husband four years earlier. Between his daughter, Liam's hellion twins, and Sophia throwing him into any romantic tangle she can think of, life gets a little crazy. Of course, everything changes the moment Lo and the twins get interested in their school musical, The Wizard of Oz. Because the new director, Louis Tomlinson, is just about the most attractive man that Harry has ever seen.

Featuring adorable Dad Harry, hotshot actor Louis, three sassy kids, a badass Sophia Smith, and a Liam who just wants all their kids to be well behaved.

🧡 A Life That We Share (I Owe It All to You) by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings {M, 50k}

When Harry's son came home from school crying he didn't think things could get any worse. Lucky for them, things were just about to change for the best.

or Harry's son get bullied until Louis' son shows up :)

🧡 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie {E, 46k}

Everyone is chasing, searching, dreaming of their soulmate.

Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. The unexpected passing of Louis' mum, and the fact that now he is the guardian of his twin two-year-old little siblings, just means that Harry is going to have to wait a bit longer.

A soulmate AU full of cute kids, house building, therapy, and a lot of dreaming.

🧡 hymns for restless stars by @turnyourankle {E, 37k}

Every Holiday season Louis has his pupils write down their Christmas wishes for class. He's read almost every wish under the sun, but one girl's wish takes him by surprise. It's for her uncle not to be alone anymore. It's not a wild wish by any means, but Louis had no idea that former teen idol Harry Styles was lonely in the first place.

🧡 Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16 {E, 30k}

It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.

Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago

🧡 Love is a Compass by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 {M, 27k}

Louis smiled to himself, knowing what Cameron was hinting at. “Did you want to stay with me in my warm bed?”

Cameron nodded as he slipped his thumb back into mouth, fighting to keep his eyes open now. “Please, Lou.”

“Sure. get some sleep, okay?” Louis hugged him tighter and closed his own eyes, his arms heavy with the weight of the little boy they were wrapped around. Just as Louis was dozing off, his eyes too heavy to keep open anymore, he heard whispered words that shattered his heart into a million more pieces.

“Please don’t go to heaven too, Lou.”

Harry waltzes into Louis’ life when everything seems to be crumbling around him. A dad overnight, grief stricken and learning to be a parent as he goes, Harry helps to bring light, laughter and, of course, baked goods back into their lives.

🧡 Enchanted by @brightgolden {E, 25k}

“My close friends usually call me H,” Harry mumbles suddenly after Louis wraps up his story.

That’s unexpected. “Are you telling me I’m your close friend now?” Louis quips, squinting his eyes at Harry.

OR Where Louis finally meets his neighbour. After a few conversations, he begins to realise he is too weak to resist the charms of the new mother and his six month old daughter.

🧡 Barefoot in Blue Jeans by @indiaalphawhiskey {E, 24k}

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.

🧡 Home for Christmas by @haloeverlasting {G, 22k}

The Shameless Hallmark Movie AU you probably didn't ask for.

Or, the one where Harry didn't think he wanted a family, but with a little Christmas magic (and maybe one Louis Tomlinson) he realizes that he is very, very wrong.

🧡 Took Me by Surprise by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {M, 20k}

Louis Tomlinson and his best friend Bridget had a daughter when they were very young and he was on the brink of becoming the next MLS star. Until he blew out his knee.

A decade later, he's the head anchor of the American version of Match of the Day and is raising the coolest nine-year-old on the planet, who happens to be obsessed with Harry Styles - popstar, musician, and all-around household name.

🧡 The Baby Whisperer by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 18k}

Harry’s newborn baby is having trouble sleeping and nothing he does seems to work. Tired and alone and at his wits end, Harry is at a loss until a new neighbour arrives to turn his world upside down.

OR the one where being neighbourly takes on a whole new meaning.

🧡 Fugue by iwillpaintasongforlou / @canonlarry {E, 16k}

Harry falls asleep a 17 year-old who lives in Cheshire and is probably rockstar Louis Tomlinson's biggest fan. He wakes up 24 with a wedding ring on his finger, two kids, and Louis Tomlinson attempting to wake him up with a blow job. The doctor calls it organic retrograde amnesia, says he might never get back the last seven years of his life. The only thing that feels the same is how he feels when Louis touches him, and maybe that's enough to make him fall in love all over again.

🧡 You're A Universe by Jiksa / @jiksax {E, 15k}

Harry doesn’t ever mean to hurt him; Louis doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s the only thing he ever does anymore.

Or, Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

🧡 reckless behaviour by @nouies {E, 13k}

Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.

🧡 It'll Be by @styleandsin {E, 13k}

Louis has always wanted children and he decides he's done waiting for love to come first. However, after adopting a baby girl just days after she's born, he quickly realizes how hard parenting is. Louis hires Harry to be his Nanny, and it all works out great. Until Louis falls in love with him.

🧡 How It Begins (series) by @phdmama {E, 8k}

New town, new job, new school for his daughter. It's a chance to start again for Louis Tomlinson, a clean slate.

Or is it?

[sofasoap]

Love at first sight - what if?

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x F!reader ( aka Mini MacTavish)

Summary: AU to my Love at first sight series.

What if Mini was the one that fell for Rudy first?

Prompt :

- You are stunning

- Look at what you do to me

- You know I want you

- Did I do this

Warning: E Rating. Smutty smut. Alcohol usage. unprotected sex ( wrap it up people and use all sorts of protection!) p in v sex.

A/N: LET'S GO RUDY FEST! Thank you @glitterypirateduck the wonderful CoD fanfic and fanart curator for organising another festival :D you are awesome.

Thanks to my midnight crew @siilvan and @jynxmirage for putting up with my constant complain of brain cells burnt out. :)

Rudy masterlist

Masterlist

A voice in your brain begrudgingly admitted the cliché of time stops when you met his beautiful brown eyes the moment you stepped off the helicopter.

“Sergent Major Rodolfo Parra. Welcome to Las Almas.”

Your heart may or may not flutter a bit when he quietly introduces himself with his soft tenor voice. 

You soon knew why he was a second in command and trusted by Colonel Alejandro Vargas and the Los Vaqueros. This is a man who exudes calmness and composure. And  after witnessing him on the battlefield? Precision, efficiency, bravery and most important thing of all, compassion.  It just makes you admire him even more.

You bury that admiration inside your heart. Happy just to keep the relationship professional. Besides, from all the gossip and talks, he doesn’t seem to be lacking in admirers around the base, nor be interested in relationships. You are only here for the short term. Better not get yourself too deep into it.Last thing you want is leaving with a broken heart. Why would he be interested in a little medic like you anyway? 

“Ah Doc, my second in command has something to ask you. Don’t you Rudy?” 

Everyone else sees it differently otherwise. Your brother gives you the quizzical look every time you start to ramble on about the Sergeant major, Gaz’s subtle jab about how you couldn’t take your eyes off him, Ghost staring at you (you could almost see that little bit of frown between his brows), and Price mumbles on how the two of you should just get your eyes checked. 

Alejandro suddenly called out to you one morning when you were dropping off some medical files into his office.  The colonel, not being subtle at all, pushes the sergeant major towards you, trying to get his hermano to ask you out on a date. 

“Only.. only if you want to. I just thought I want to show you the local festival and culture…” Rudy hesitated as he shuffled on his feet, his usual confidence all but disappeared. 

Well now here you are, at his family home, his sister Camila and mother ( with his mother half sobbing and mumbling what seems to be word of holy praises ) eagerly pushing you into the bedroom, getting you all dolled up with the traditional garments. 

You can see his jaw drop slightly as you step out of the room, and twirl around to show off your skirt. 

“Like it??” You asked as you flash him a shy smile. You absolutely love the dress. You were also amazed how well it fitted you.  “Someone may or may not let out what size dress you wear and told my brother…” Camila winked at you, letting out a bit of a secret. 

“Or not wearing?” You winked at him, His cheek instantly darkens. You just can’t help but tease him a little as you feel a bit brave ( or maybe it’s that two liqueur shots your fellow medics made you scull down before you came did the trick), and it’s fun to see his calm façade crumble. 

A soft smile appeared on his face after he blinked his eyes a few times, snapping himself out of a daze ,“You look stunning, Whatever you wear.” Oh, he is a sweet talker. You like that.

“Oh can’t forget this!” Camila rushed out from the room, placing the flower crown on your head. Rudy gently holds it in place as his sister clips it on with hair clips. After giving everything a final check, one of his hands slides down and ghosts your cheek before grasping your hand.

“Ready to go?”

Oh dear, you can already feel your body burning up, and you are pretty sure it's not from the alcohol.

It has been a fun night, the music, the drinking and the dancing. 

Oh the dancing. The want and lust that he had carefully hidden slowly slips out as the night progresses. How he caresses your knuckles with his thumb, the hand always on the small of your back, guiding you away from the rowdy crowds. How you shiver when his lip brushes your ear as he whispers into your ear when the music gets too loud. Feeling the heat emitting through layers of clothing when his body presses against your during the dance, how he fails to disguise the sharp inhale of air when you slide your hand around his waist, hooking your thumbs between the gap of his pants. 

You can’t hold onto the urge anymore. Your glossy eyes peer into his darken orbs, wanting the affirmation that it isn’t not just you who wants something more. More than just shy touches and polite words. His eyes flicker towards your lips and lower briefly, before meeting your eyes again, nodding slightly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

And that is all the confirmation you need. 

Half dragging Rudy across the festival ground, around the back of the building and the little green area beside it, your body is burning with uncontrollable lust and fire. 

Once you make sure you are hidden away from prying eyes, you pull him down for a deep kiss. He responded immediately with one hand cupping your face and the other gently but firmly holding onto the back of your head. 

Two of you only parted when you pulled back slightly, gasping for air. He leaned forward slightly, chasing for a few more kisses before resting his forehead against yours. 

It’s all getting too much. You want him. Right there, right now.

Hitching your skirt up as you lift your right leg up, you hook it around his waist. “Look at what you do to me…” you whispered into his ear, grabbing his hand, guiding it towards your wet underwear.. “I want you Rudy. here. now. “

“He…here???”  he stuttered slightly, not expecting you to be this bold. He looked around, checking the surroundings again. The two of you are still close to the festival ground, but private enough that you are sure no one will be coming towards this side nor hear you both over the loud music. 

“No one is going to come this way.” You reassure him as you bring your hands up , looping it around his neck, grinding against his slowly aroused cock. You can feel his body shivering as you gently nipping his ear lobe.

 “Make me feel good Rudy. Please.” you cooed.  

How could he deny a request from you? Especially with those pleading watery eyes, voice full of need and lust. 

He only realised how enamoured with you when he saw you stepping out of the room in the traditional garb, the woman of his dream, he thought. The moment he realises his little hidden crush on you is now a full blown desire. 

Looking into your eyes again, “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked again in a husky voice, giving you a chance to back out. 

You gasped as he sank his fingers deeper into you, curling it up slightly. Your head rolls back, leaning into the tree as you let out a satisfying moan. He leans down, licks a stripe up the valley of your breasts, up your neck, until he reaches your chin. He peppered kisses on your cheek as he sped up his ministration, muttering praises as he grabbed hold of your waist tight, knowing your orgasm is going to hit soon.

“You know I want you. And you want me too, right?” You move your hip slightly, hoping to get a bit of friction with his hand that is still cupping your sex.  That gave him the last bit of reassurance as he pushed the fabric to the side to play with your clit, eliciting a loud moan from you.

How wonderful those thick fingers of his feel on you. You have always wondered what his fingers will feel like when you sit quietly in the corner in the mess hall after dinners, him playing the guitar with his deft fingers while the soldiers around him sing the stress away, celebrating living on for another day, as the fight with the cartel and corruption continues.  

“Cariño.” 

Your hazy eyes open up, mouth slightly agape, everything seems so muffle, so hot, so … good. 

“Look at you, so beautiful. Such an angel.” he whispered in a husky tone.  “Look at me, I want you to look at my eyes when you come.” he commanded as your eyes drifted close again, feeling that coil about to snap at any time. 

“Don’t hold back, just let it out…come for me mi vida… ” with those words, your orgasm hits you with a full force. You are sure if it’s not for the loud music, everyone in the festival ground would probably have heard you. But you couldn’t care less at this point as he slows down his finger thrusting, letting you ride out the rest of your bless high.

Your head fell forward into his shoulder, panting away as you tried to reorientated yourself as  he slowly pulled his fingers out, gliding it up towards your clit, making you tremble with overstimulation. Gently letting your leg down, making sure you are steady before he pulls you in for a tight embrace, you can feel his now fully erected cock straining against his pants. 

Pushing yourself off from him, you reach down towards his pants, carefully unbuckling his belt with your trembling hands. He let out a shuddered breath as you tug his trousers and underwear down, exposing his beautiful girth. 

“Did I do this? Did I make you hard Rudy?” you murmured as you slide your hand up and down the length, Rudy couldn’t hold back an unrestrained groan.  

“I want you inside me.. And make me come with your cock..please make me come again, please.”  You pleaded as you speed up the pumping, clenching your thigh with the need rising again, ready to take him in. 

Slowly but surely he pumps his delicious length in and out of you, each thrust and praise of words elicits more whimpers and moans out of your mouth, begging him to push you over the edge again.

Rudy grabbed your wrist to stop the ministration, and pushed you back gently until your back was against a tree, and leaned down to capture your mouth with his. Teasing your lip apart with his tongue, he hitches your skirt up and moves it to the side, hand finding your sex again. Taking his cock into his hand, he lowered himself slightly to aim his cock towards your slit, teasing it a little with the head before slowly pushing it in.

Both of you let out a contented sigh as the finally seated in you. It feels so good, so fulfilling with him stretching you nicely with his wide girth. You wouldn’t mind if he is buried inside you forever. 

He lifts your leg up and shifts your body slightly to get a better angle, thrusting even impossibly deeper than you imagined. You grabbed onto his shoulder tight, as you felt the familiar sensation building up again. With a few final hard thrust, you screamed out loud as you came for the second time,  he followed not long after with a loud moan as your pussy spasming around his cock, filling you up with his hot cum. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as both of you slowly rode out the rest of your orgasm. 

The two of you stayed in that position for a little while, eyes closed, with only the sounds of shuddering breathing from your post-orgasm highs heard between the two of you." You bite your lip, barely containing the sound of whimper as he pulls out from you, secretly wanting him to stay in there for a bit longer. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped you over and himself as well, before smoothing down your wrinkle top and skirt. You did the same for him as you buckled his belt back on, straightening his shirt. 

He leans into your forehead as you reach up and run your hand to smooth out his now sweat drenched hair, both of you burst out laughing. 

“ We look like we've been running a marathon. Or being chased by a group of bandits.” you quipped. 

“But it was a very good marathon.” he puffed out. Holding your face and kissing you gently on the lip, he murmured, “I would do it again any day.”

“Against a tree??” you giggled. 

“Preferably in bed next time” he chuckled. “Or anytime. Only if.. if you want.” his voice drops down to a whisper, suddenly all shy.

“I would never say no to that, Rudy.” you reassure him as you pull him in for another kiss. 

“Finally.”

“About time.”

“Sick of the two of you dancing around each other.”

“Good job Sergeant major and doc! Wohooooo” 

“Don’t too loud at night, you two.”

“What the..” “ YOU GUYS!!!!” 

tag list:

@jynxmirage, @siilvan,@glitterypirateduck, @homicidal-slvt,@sprout-fics,@cumikering,@preciouslittlecreature,@crazymela

@iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface

@liyanahelena, @abbeyrjm-blog,@alypink,@devcica,@nrdmssgs

@okayyadriana, @caramlizedtomatoes, @random-thot-generator, @random0lover

@nightingal3-tales, @deakyspuff,

@deadbranch, @roosterr, @gamergirlbones, @b1rds3ye, @writeforfandoms @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world,

[fluentmoviequoter]

Save a Verse for Me

Requested by @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses! I hope you like it and it's along the lines of what you were thinking!!🫶🏼

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: After hearing a man singing in your neighborhood, you fall for his voice. When you locate his house and sing with him, you discover there is more to love than his voice.

Warnings: fluff, I still believe Deac sings Sinatra bc Jay does, Street

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Your nightly walk is one of the few times a day when you can just breathe. There’s traffic in the distance, the sounds of Los Angeles humming over the faint honking of horns and roaring of engines, and you have to remain alert even in your typically safe neighborhood. The element of relaxation, the knowledge that this time is spent on you, and you alone, is refreshing. A few blocks from your house, you turn a corner and smile. Though you aren’t sure which house it is, one of your neighbors never fails to make your night better. Whether it’s Sinatra, Dean Martin, Nat King Cole, or a rare rendition of something a little newer like Bublé or Ben Barnes, the man who sings with his window open has slowly made himself a permanent fixture in your life. If only you knew his name.

As you walk along the sidewalk, you hear his voice floating in the air, and it wraps around you like a warm hug. It’s not a song you recognize immediately, yet his voice takes you somewhere new, somewhere that feels more like home than anywhere else you’ve ever been. You can’t deny it; you’re in love with the man’s voice, and if you could find his house, you’d knock and ask how much he’d charge you to record himself singing. But you’ve yet to narrow it down, and his voice travels so well you wouldn’t be surprised to learn you’re not even close.

It's only been two weeks since you first heard him singing Sinatra, but you’re drawn to his voice like a moth to a flame or a lost wanderer finally finding her way home. You slow as you walk, glancing toward the houses lining the street. It’s nearing dinner time, so you see lights on and shadows moving before windows, but you’re not looking for a person, you realize, you’re looking for a feeling, for a sound. You step past one house, and the voice grows louder before the song ends, and the street quiets once more. Looking up, you see an open window and a glimpse of a man moving through his kitchen. It’s him, you know. He tosses a towel over his shoulder and begins humming before he moves farther into the house. You smile before you continue walking and don’t notice your own humming until you’re nearly home.

“Trace the skin of her perfect pirate scars,” you sing as you pull your dinner from the oven.

You straighten and realize that your neighbor is affecting more than your walks. His music, his voice, the calm sense of joy that washes over you when you so much as think about him reaches far beyond hearing him sing from his window. The wind blows loudly outside, and it is the first night in weeks you haven’t heard the voice of the angel who feels so close yet so out of reach.

“Tomorrow,” you decide aloud. “I’ll find him tomorrow.”

It’s the tenth time you will hear his voice, you realize without knowing when you started counting. Some nights, his house was dark, others were marked by the sound of excited conversation between men. Tonight, there is no movement by the window, just the soft glow of a light and the beginning of a Nat King Cole song. One you know.

The man hums after the first verse, and you slow on the sidewalk, close enough that you could see him if you took a few steps to the left.

“L is for the way you look at me,” he sings.

“O is for the only one I see,” you continue. He starts the line, but his voice fades as you sing.

“V is very, very extraordinary,” he sings, his shadow moving up and toward the window.

“E is even more than anyone that you adore can.”

Your breath catches as the man leans against the window with his hands spread over the sill as he smiles at you. His smile, his eyes, everything about him feels worthy of a song. You smile at him and wave weakly. As you prepare to keep walking, he sings, changing the lyrics. For you.

“What is it I can give to you? Please tell me it’s got room for two.”

Without conscious thought, only your feelings and the deepness of his eyes, you reply, “Two I guarantee can make it, take my hand and we can make it. This song was made for me and you.”

The man’s brows raise as he shakes his head. “Where’d you learn to sing like that?”

“I could ask you the same,” you respond softly.

“You live around here? I’ve seen you walking before.”

You nod and point out, “I’ve heard you singing before. You’ve got a beautiful voice.”

“Well, you’d know beauty, wouldn’t you?”

You look down to hide the giddy smile on your face. He’s gorgeous, and kind, and can sing. Part of you wonders if he’s too good to be true, but the rest of you, including your heart, are home in his voice and his gaze.

“David, or Deacon,” he says after you introduce yourself.

“Any chance you take requests?”

“For you? Anything.”

“Okay, because a voice like that needs to sing at least one Rascal Flatts song.”

“I’ll sing until I can’t anymore if it makes you smile like that,” he replies. “As long as you sing with me, of course.”

You glance over your shoulder as a car turns onto the street but answer, “I can’t think of a single thing I’d rather do.”

“Then maybe we should have this conversation without a wall between us.”

“I’d like that.”

“There’s a place in Santa Monica, just good music and good pizza. Are you free tomorrow?”

“I am,” you answer.

“I’ll be right back,” Deacon says suddenly. “If he says anything, don’t answer.”

Your brows pinch, but you can’t ask questions before he turns from the window and walks into the house. Low music turns on inside, and you grin.

“Hi,” a man greets from the walkway to Deacon’s door. “Are you a friend of Deacon’s?”

With your lips pressed together, you nod. Deacon told you not to answer but didn’t seem overly concerned about the man in his yard. The front door opens before he can speak again, and Deacon steps out. Your breath catches again as he gestures for the man to go inside.

“Now, Street,” the man demands.

After he walks in, Deacon walks to your side and offers his hand. You place your palm in his, smiling as he properly introduces himself.

“Yes, you’re lovely, with your smile so warm,” he sings softly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Lovely, don’t you ever change, Keep that breathless charm,” you reply.

“Tomorrow,” he promises.

“How will you find me?”

“Well, I could sing… Or we could do it the old-fashioned way and you could give me your number?”

Deacon offers his phone, and a song travels through his touch. After you return the phone, with your number saved so he can reach you whenever he wants, you step back.

“Thank you, Deacon,” you say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I know it’s too early,” Deacon replies. “But if I sing Just the way you look tonight would you know what I meant?”

“Well, L is for the way you look at me.”

Deacon’s smile grows, and you wave before you turn to walk home.

“Be careful,” he calls. “Let me know when you get home.”

“I will. You just keep singing and save a verse for me!”

[pxgeturner]

Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

[latinotiktok]

Propaganda:

Percy

-Percy Jackson porque yo lo digo idc (no hay explicación blanca para ese muchacho ese mae es latino)

-Percy Jackson from the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. Has mad silver teeth energy.

-Percy Jackson. He's an outsider. He works hard to get where he wants to be. He's cool. He's funny. He's an icon. He's from New York. Must I say more.

-percy jackson pq ele é rato de praia e só se fode se isso não é a experiência unificadora da América Latina não sei o que é

-Percy Jackson. Eu sei que tem pessoas com argumentos legítimos para isso, mas estou indo apenas pela ~vibe~

-Percy Jackson porque es de nueva york yo digo que es puertoriqueño 🫡

-percy jackson. he has to be latino he lives in nyc and is coded to be a minority. personally think he's argentino but i've seen hcs for venezuela, brasil, and puerto rico. shoutout to tumblr user latinopercy btw

Percy Jackson, por que ele claramente é latino. Ele deveria ser especificamente brasileiro e carioca. Filho do DEUS DO MAR !!!!! bebendo um mate na praia!!!!! 

Percy Jackson. Mírenme a los ojos y díganme que no. Trauma con su papá ausente. Mamá adolescente. Un padrastro de mierda al que su mamá asesina. Un medio hermano al que al principio no quiere pero después adora. Le dan una espada y procede a desafiar dioses. Eso es muy de niño latino peleando con las autoridades del colegio. 

-Percy Jackson, not only he lives in the harlem (wich im told is v latino heavy in the us) just look at him!! the attitude, the sarcasm the underdogism the jokes the flavour the disrespect to autority cmonnn, meu filho brasileiro eu sinto desde os 13 essa verdade! me diz se a sally n tem mó cara de tia mãe do seu amigo da escola, bota ai um sandra nela e fechou. (pros brarg ainda podiamos vencer por percabeth aka percy brasileiro/annabeth argentina abram seus olhos!!) enfim façamos o que rick não teve coragem!!

-Percy Jackson. He just has the vibes. After all the bullshit my boy went through, he just deserves it, as a treat.

- percy jackson bc seeing a demi god kid have adhd AND be latino would be epic especially bc he's the main character of the series also when i first read the book i kinda did read him as latino bc of certain thing described in the book

-Percy Jackson. en el libro dicen que su madre y poseidon cojieron durante un verano pero su cumpleaños es en agosto, lo que significa que tuvieron que cojer alrededor de diciembre. eso solo tiene sentido si es del hemisferio sur así que en mi corazón es latino

Peter Parker

-Spiderman. ya sabés

-Spiderman (Peter Parker). Por vibes y porque en cada maldita esquina de Latinoamérica hay un tipo vestido de spiderman. Qué sería de nosotres sin él

-El hombre araña, literal no hay trencito de la alegría o pelotero donde no aparezca, no importa la edad si le preguntas a alguien por un superhéroe te lo van mencionar. Es básicamente como Goku pero de cómics, hay publicidades y graffitis de él por todos lados, vas a una parrilla y lo tenés ahí pintado al spiderman en un pared preparando unos choris. Tenemos canónicamente? nuestro propio hombre araña (Julián 💙) y tengo fotos de un hombre araña con la camiseta de la selección festejando sobre un camión. (Disclaimer soy argentina 😅)

-Peter parker de Ultimate Spiderman 2012 por que NO DEJO DE VER UNA PROPAGANDA DE BELDENT CON SU ACTOR DE VOZ. TODO EL CAST DE DOBLAJE DE USM ES ARGENTINO Y ME ATORMENTA.

-homem-aranha, tem forte presença no carnaval de rua brasilero e claramente sabe dançar funk

[sunspearesque]

‘Tis You, My Great Love

Summary: I've been betrothed to fear since the mists of memory, “the bride of despair,” they named me. And there, by the shore, you found me… sorrow veiling my face, and wounds blooming like tulips in my hands. But lo, you, my great love, now stand, lifting the veil and bidding my fears depart with each tender kiss. “Stay,” I say, “stay for all eternity.”

A/N: hello hello beautiful friends!!! i wrote this piece while feeling extremely sentimental and sappy after a conversation about motherhood with my best friend.. i was contemplating motherhood, marriage, and intimacy in general, but then tried to imagine how that would translate to Nala's and Oberyn's relationship.. so, this fic is mainly fluff with a sprinkle of smut :3 and lots of poetic dreams… hope you enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); talks of motherhood; fear of loss and abandonment; fear of motherhood; talks of dreams; pregnancy; childbirth; fluff on steroids with a sprinkle of smut; dad!oberyn (my favorite oberyn to write); brief p in v sex; oral (m!receiving); breeding kink

WC: 2.6K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

“Love me so strongly that the echoes come to me here, at night, in the hours of insomnia, where I am waiting for you. I kiss you, I kiss you madly.” — Albert Camus to Maria Casares, Correspondence, January 9, 1950

His breath, slow and warm, caressed her neck as he nestled closer. His arms, like bands of fire, encircled her soft belly. With a grip as tight as the grasp of a man fearing the loss of paradise slipping through his fingers, he held her close, as if she might vanish like the elusive dream of Eden he chased in his sleep. Just when he thought he could taste its waters, they turned to fire, scorching his throat and consuming him in flames, jolting him awake from his slumber. Yet now, she mused, he sleeps peacefully.

She traced her finger over the scar adorning his shoulder, much like the marks she bore on her own body from bearing their son—for when love leaves its mark upon us, not even the shadow of fear can erase it.

Her fingers deftly threaded through his raven locks, prompting a soft hum from him as she pressed a tender kiss upon his brow. Never before had she known such serenity, as sleep gently stole her away in his arms.

—

The sun, basking in its warm and inviting glow, reached its luminous tendrils into the chambers of their castle. The soft sounds of nature at dawn whispered promises of new beginnings. These beginnings ushered in healing and prosperity to souls who had yearned for the clasp of death for so long, forgetting how to revel in life's joys and surrender to its tender embrace.

Life in Dorne, akin to a nurturing mother, a goddess, a woman… the dunes of sand beneath their calloused feet, and the blazing sun in the sky, stood as an impregnable fortress of strength akin to Nymeria, their burning star. She was the mother of both land and people, her warmth forging indomitable resolve within her children. She is the sun—their sun blazing fiercely, instilling in them an unyielding grit against any rival, yet within their hearts lay a gentle warmth that embraced love as steadfastly as a sacred oath.

And like the sun and the earth and Nymeria, Nala harbored the urges of motherhood within her, which was a concept that she held in reverence, yet it also stirred a deep sense of dread within her. She longed for the life burgeoning deep inside of her, for a part of herself to wander this realm and embrace life under her vigilant care and unwavering devotion. However, she couldn't shake the haunting memory of how motherhood had claimed her own mother's life, how she harbored guilt for the tragic fate her mother endured.

If only I hadn't been, she might have fled the castle and escaped her dire end...

This lingering wound within her soul was the sole reason she had shunned the idea of bearing children until she met him.

He, adorned in all his splendor, tended to her wounded soul the very instant he professed his love to her, at a time when he himself was most in need of solace. This bastion of a man, generous, gracious, and gallant, freely bestowed his love, protection, and tenderness, even amidst the shadows of his wrath and vengeance.

For you, my great love, I ache with an unbearable keenness, feeling the wounds within me slowly mend, sewn shut with the thread of your love—a needle of devotion stitching together my injured being. Though painful, it is an insatiable need, a piercing sting I have yearned for throughout the passing years. It closes the chasm within me, that gaping void where the winds of despair and sorrow once freely roamed, leaving me as naught but a specter, undeserving of love, joy, or autonomy.

Your love, my great love, is what ignited within me a hunger for life after an endless fast of fear—fear of loss and abandonment. Your love bestowed upon me the strength to embrace love once more, despite the inevitable sacrifices. Did you know that you visited me in my dreams? You kissed me with such tenderness and held me close. “I was adrift,” I told you, my voice laden with fear, “take me..” I whispered, “Take me with you.”

When she pledged herself to him in marriage, she knew she needed to fear no one beneath the gaze of Gods and men. With him by her side, no rivals could breach her defenses; even in death, his spirit would haunt any who dared to harm her through all Seven Hells and beyond.

You told me once, do you recall? As we strolled the shores, my steps were heavy with dread or joy, or perhaps it was the dread of the joy that awaited me. I struggle to remember the last time genuine happiness graced my soul before that day. When the sweet taste of happiness touched my sorrow-laden lips, I froze in place, wary that this cruel existence might snatch it away, as it so often does.

You whispered to me, my great love, your love with such fervor, you told me how it frightened you, unable to resist the pull of our inevitable fate. “How could I?” you pondered, “You are inescapable.” You told me that sorrow is the price of love; to shun one is to forsake the other. Yet, you vowed not to evade me, you kissed me and swore to me that you would not allow my love to elude your grasp.

You told me how I melt into your dreams, whisking you away in my embrace mere seconds before the phantom hands could encircle your throat. Those same hands, which once tormented you each night, wrenching you from slumber, now find themselves impotent against your newfound peace. You impute to me your salvation, though I doubted my own. You rekindled a dormant tenderness within me, long thought doused by the harshness of life. ‘tis you, my great love, who rescued me… It was not I who saved you, but you who saved me.

She recalled a day they spent amidst the Water Gardens, a few moons past:

Reclining upon the grass, the soothing melody of a nearby water fountain lulled her into a serene state of repose. The laughter of Dorea and Loreza filled her ears, joyfully engaged in play with their father. Nala shut her eyes, savoring this heartening moment with those she holds most dear.

“W–Wait, papa, wait,” Dorea uttered between pants, attempting to conceal her sweet giggles. “I heard Arianne say that you engage in battles,” she inquired, her small hand resting on her waist as she sought to extract the truth from him.

“Yes, I do,” Oberyn replied, seated on the grass, attempting to catch his breath after chasing them all morning. “Why would Arianne tell you that?” He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, intrigued by the smirk that widened before Loreza jumped on his back, encircling his neck and hanging from it, ambushing him. “Papa, fight!”

Nala opened her eyes to witness the victorious father, besieged by little hands and tiny feet, playfully striking his stomach and chest, surrounded by laughter that compelled him to yield, lying flat on his back.

Dorea brandished a stick of wood, pointing it at his face, and murmured, “Surrender!” with a broad, toothy grin. Loreza, seizing the opportunity, delivered a playful punch to his soft middle. “I surrender, my lady, I surrender!” he exclaimed with feigned fear and defeat, eliciting more giggles from Loreza. “Have mercy on this old man, my lady, please!” he continued, jesting while maintaining his scared demeanor.

“Loreza,” Dorea commanded with a stern expression, feigning seriousness, “this soldier will join our army,” attempting a deep, authoritative voice. At that moment, Oberyn stealthily swept them both from their feet and hoisted them onto his shoulders, prompting a chorus of screams and laughter. “You shall never trust your enemy, girls,” he declared, his voice playfully admonishing.

Her faith in his paternal prowess never wavered, evidenced by his eight resilient daughters. He showered them with love and fierceness to such an extent that Nala's own heart ached with longing to bear his child—a primal yearning that twisted within her.

Each time he lay with her, she offered fervent prayers to the Gods, beseeching them, “Grant this union fruitfulness, let it take, let life flourish abundantly within me.”

When the soft stirrings of life within her ignited a radiant glow from deep within, his love grew even more tender, gentle, and expansive; even greater than the swell of her stomach. She marveled at the dichotomy of this fierce and dreaded man seeping such tenderness. How could hands, once stained with the blood of his foes and weathered by battle, now caress her with such delicate care, as if she were the most delicate of petals?

“Tell me,” he panted as he thrust into her, “Tell me how much you love me, Nala.”

“I do,” she said, her words strained with pleasure, melding into a moan, “I do, my viper, I adore you.”

As she entered the throes of labor, he sat steadfastly behind her, his legs parted to rest on her sides supporting her back against his chest, his words of praise gently murmured into her ear. Amidst his curses at the Gods, he avidly wished to shoulder her pain, to bear it in her stead. 

When they were greeted by the piercing cries of the fruit of their love—a child, glorious and perfect in every way, red and squealing, a reflection of his father in demeanor, soul, and visage—she cradled him in her arms, while Oberyn enveloped them both in his protective embrace.

Their eyes locked upon the tiny, fragile form before them, and as a rare tear escaped his forbearing facade, she reached out to brush it from his cheek. With a tender whisper, she said, “Look, my love, he bears your likeness.”

She reclined upon her side, nursing their son at her breast, nestled between herself and Oberyn. His gaze lingered upon the tender scene, his eyes laden with unspoken emotions that he dared not voice, lest tears betray him.

Do you remember, my great love? Do you remember how the fear wilted, its head bowed in shame? The fear that once gripped me, releasing my hand as it gazed upon you with eyes filled with dread.

“Fret not,” you whispered to me while I sat in sorrow by your side. Though you lay in a deep slumber for days, your voice broke through the darkness just when I feared I might never hear it again. When all semblance of peace metamorphosed into a looming specter, jeering at me, taunting my joy and desperation. “Oh, you naive child,” it sneered with a voice steeped in bitterness. “I am no child,” I retorted, yet I felt the weight of my old fears returning. “You never learn,” it spat, before your voice shielded me from impending despair. You whispered, “Fret not,” and I believed you, my great love, as I always do.

And now look... Look at him... How can one lay bare their heart to the world, a heart with little hands and tiny feet, and not fret?

—

Gently opening her eyes, she sensed the chill of the empty space beside her—a void she cursed and despised. Rising slowly from her slumber, she beheld him: bare-chested, glorious, as beautiful as a man can be, cradling their son in his arms.

Their embrace enveloped them in warmth, their skins melding as one, while the soft cooing of their child resonated faintly in the chamber's silence. Amidst the peaceful atmosphere, punctuated only by the hushed footsteps of her husband and the tender sounds of their boy, her heart pounded within her chest like a Sand Steed galloping across the Dornish plains, threatening to burst forth. The love she felt surged within her, surpassing all expectations, growing fiercer, more profound—unbearable. It was a love that dissolved her fears like the northern snows beneath the scorching sun.

In the treasured instants shared with his children, Oberyn found solace in moments where the chaos of the world faded into oblivion. Each time they gathered around him, their youthful spirits ignited a spark of joy within him, particularly in those tender early years when they sought refuge in their father's arms. Yet, amidst this warmth, a pang of sorrow lingered as he gazed upon his son, his thoughts drifting to memories of his nephew Aegon, the son of his sweet sister Elia.

He couldn't help but imagine how Aegon might have flourished had fate been kinder to him or his sister or their mother. A gentle touch from Nala drew him back from his sorrowful reverie, and as he turned to meet her tender smile, he leaned in to press a soft kiss upon her lips, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child cradled in his embrace.

“Why did you not awaken me, my love?” Nala murmured, her gaze tenderly fixed upon their son.

“I wished for you to rest,” he replied softly, his eyes warm as they met hers, before he moved to lay their child gently in his crib, nestling him into the plush bedding.

Returning to their bed, he settled himself against the sturdy wooden frame, patting the mattress beside him, inviting her to join him. She approached, crawling between his legs, prompting a raised brow and a smirk from him. “And what might you be doing?” he inquired.

“I long to savor you,” she declared simply, positioned between his spread legs and deftly undoing his breeches.

“And your wounds, my love?” he gently reminded her. “You are not fully healed yet.”

“This will be my remedy,” she replied, her voice hoarse and tinged with sleep and yearning, almost on the edge of a whine.

She felt his cock swell and throb in her grasp, searing and already slick with desire. With gentle strokes of her hand, she evoked muffled groans from him, meeting his gaze as she whispered, “I love you beyond reckoning…”

Lowering her head to his glistening tip, she teased the slit with tiny licks, relishing every drop of his precum. His head fell back, a deep moan escaping his lips before she buried him in her mouth.

She swallowed him deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed within her throat, his leg jerked beside her as she moved him in and out of her wet and wanting mouth. A low hum accompanied her fervent ministrations, her hand tenderly caressing his soft belly, a part of him she had adored over the years.

Pulling him from her drooling mouth to catch her breath, she panted between words, “If not for my wounds, I would not have wasted your seed anywhere but deep within my cunt,” she licked his sensitive tip, and he whimpered quietly, “taking me day and night… today and tomorrow and the day after, and spilling your seed within me over and over ‘til it takes,” she confessed before taking him again, squeezing him within her tight throat, his primal groans filling the air and filling her with an immense sense of pride at her actions.

She swallowed around him once, then twice, until she felt his warm, salty cum spurt into her eager throat, eliciting a guttural growl from him as he filled her up and came down from his climax. She withdrew his softened cock from her mouth, gathering the seeping cum from the corners of her lips before eagerly sucking her digit clean. Crawling up to lie atop him, she rested her head upon his heaving chest, pressing kisses to his golden skin. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly, yearning to merge with her until they became one.

You, my great love, ‘tis you who will always reign until the end of times, in every lifetime, in every plane of existence.

[hausofmamadas]

FRENCHIE | Queer!Mode, Detected

The Boys, Season 1, Ep 2 - Cherry | Season 2, Ep 3 - Over The Hill With the Swords of A 1000 Men, 6 - The Bloody Door’s Off, 8 - What I Know | Season 3, Ep 3 - Barbary Coast

∴

I’ve seen a lotta chatter in The Boys fandom (mostly on Reddit but also TikTok. Appropriately this take wasn’t on Tumblr much) that ppl were mad at Kripke and Co for taking an unforeseen “gay turn” with Frenchie’s character in S4 ..? And I’m over here with my Sherlock Holmes cap and pipe and tiny detective notebook just

trying to understand how these ppl didn’t pick up on the bipan vibes from this beautiful, majestic, so-French-he-can't-help-it butterfly.

(Also all this hand wringing about Frenchie "turning gay," te lo juro me esta eloqueciendo alaverga. Like canwenot with the bi-erasure, it’s giving Ashley telling Maeve she’s a lesbian bc is more “clear-cut” and easier to sell than bi. It’s just as insulting to call a bipan person gay as it is to call them straight. And I don’t mean like the use of gay as a catch all that a lotta us queers use sometimes interchangeably for queer, I talkin ppl acting as tho bipan isn't real and/or thinking Frenchie jumped out the closet as a gay man 3/4 of the way thru the show.)

And their confusion over this has got me confused. Like I didn’t even realize it was such a plot twist until I got on Reddit and a lotta ppl were screaming like Ned Stark's head just got cut off, or like it's some wild-ass writer's room shenanigans where the character is suddenly a diff person for no discernible reason. Like have you seen this man? Do you know where you are? Bc they’ve been dropping hints throughout the show. Case in point:

a) Little Nina and all that talk about her Sergei ahem it's Serge and his overwhelming enthusiasm for butt stuff and Vincent Cassel try to convince me Sr. Cassel wasn’t a childhood crush of Frenchie’s or someth and that’s why it’s his safe word. You can’t

b) this time he planted a fat smooch on Hughie’s face after finding out he leaked the compound V tip to the press (bonus points for his attempt to make out with mm before getting a no-homo hard pass)

c) this deep, abiding love of The Golden Girls this is unequivocally the gayest thing on the list

d) how he turned tricks in mad NYC before Little Nina locked that mf in a chastity belt and held him hostage by his penis he went to ‘work’ for Nina. -> Disclaimer: this is not to imply that queer ppl’s participation in sex work is bc they’re hypersexual. This is here to point out queer coding, as lgbtqia+ ppl are more at-risk for mental health issues stemming from severe trauma, food and housing insecurity, and addiction, often without access to the care they need to recover. So sex work becomes a viable vocation to survive bc unlike a regular 9-5, it’s more conducive to untreated mental health issues and substance use also it’s an easier market to get into than arms dealing or contract killing

e) this throuple arrangement btwn him, Cherie and Justin

f) His attempts to…er broaden mm’s horizons ?

g) the evident lack of knowledge or interest or acumen for this mysterious sportsball of which mm speaks of but he’ll still go on that dumb golf bachelor trip bc he loves his fraaand

h) this fondness for Eurotrash raves and dancing

And look, I might get it if they sprung it on us. But this shit has been since the beginning. The earliest indicator being ep 2 of S1 — THE FIRST EP HE’S IN. Hughie asks what it’s like to kill someone and Frenchie waxes poetic about his first hit (just before ominously dropping, "I carry them all with me" buried the lead on that one to Hughie's horror but to the delight of bbygirllovers like myself everywhere) and well, I think the evidence here speaks for itself

Like the dichot— nay, Bichotomy of talking about how mindblowingly hot this chick is whilst, in the same breath, gushing over her outfit. Okay I’m sure there’s a token straightmale who can id high-end designer brands on sight. I’m sure that unicorn exists somewhere, right, cuz humans contain multitudes. But this man? He just a bipan butterfly. So those who felt blindsided by Frenchie gettin’ dicked down, oh you beautiful, naive, sophisticated newborn babies. If not spelled out, it was so heavily implied, I saw the fling with whatshisname with the murdered fam whose name I’m too lazy to Goog and was like, “hm yes, the math is indeed mathing, these calculayshuns are correct”

Like u thot a mf dressed like this??? was straight ?

Mans is in a scoopneck bunny crop top that looks straighr from the juniors section of Forever21 with plaid pants and fuckingsjs suspenders iconic so to think he'd nary tarried in sausage-central before, well ... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

═

taglist: @drabbles-mc, @complete-nonsequitur, @rerorero-my-cherry, @ladygoatee, @tofuwildcard, @tinylittleobsessions

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| No Show ||

Female reader x Matt Murderdock x Elektra

Tags/warnings: threesome, oral sex (female rec), p in v unprotected sex. E 18+

A/n: I've been hoarding this for a long while and finally finished it off. This is what everyone wants, right? 😉

As you down the dregs of your second drink and were considering ordering a third, you finally admit to yourself that you'd been stood up. You checked your phone yet again, the battery draining fast from the amount of times you'd unlocked it and refreshed for notifications just in case. It was even more frustrating that you'd been ghosted as this guy had actually seemed like he was really nice. Well shit, turns out they're all the fucking same.

You raise your head, about to stand up and get the bartender's attention but as you look up a woman was there, right in front of your table, smiling at you. She's very beautiful, with poker straight dark chocolate coloured hair, a deep red dress that skims her curves with a pair of killer heels to match, and dark eyes that draw you in.

"Um, can I help you?" You ask politely.

She smiles again. "If your date hasn't been ambushed by ninjas on his way here, he's not worth it darling." She turns to the bar. "Another round, and whatever the lady wants, bring it to our table."

She has an accent, from somewhere in Europe you guessed. And she smells amazing. You watch her tip the bartender generously before she turns back to you.

"Come join us. I know it's no fun drinking alone. My name is Elektra, and he," she gestured to the low table in the far corner of the restaurant. "is Matthew."

You look over to where your eyes had been subconsciously flitting most of the night. You supposed it couldn't be helped, they were an attractive couple, and the woman, Elektra, had briefly caught your eye when she saw you looking over earlier. The man you already knew was Matt Murdock, the Kingpin, one of the most powerful men in the city. He was famous, handsome, and extremely dangerous. And you were let-down, bored and had nothing to lose.

Despite his blindness, he throws you a grin as Elektra walks you over to their table, you offer your hand and are both taken aback and charmed as he brings it to his lips, kissing the back of it with a softness you didn't expect.

"Who's this you've brought me 'lektra? A new friend?"

You could feel the power almost rolling off him at this close distance, he was sharply dressed in an expensive tailored suit that probably cost your salary, and it perfectly matched the colour of Elektra's dress. His tie was loosened slightly around his neck with the top button of his dark plum silk shirt undone, his eyes hidden behind a pair of deep red oval glasses and red hair slightly ruffled as if someone had just run their fingers through it. It was in no way an exaggeration to say he had devilish good looks.

You introduced yourself to both of them and Elektra beckoned you to sit next to her.

"She had a very undeserving date." She explained, bringing colour to your cheeks as you shyly sipped on your cocktail. "I thought we would could show her a good time and perhaps make it up to her."

"Oh my, of course," Matthew purrs, "men are such assholes, aren't they?"

Elektra cackles and you soon join her, agreeing and clinking glasses and falling into easy conversation with these two utterly entrancing people who, currently unbeknownst to you, were going to show you the best night of your life.

A couple of hours had passed, along with a few more drinks. Elektra fed you canapés and you were laughing more and more as it seemed to bring the most gorgeous smile to Matthew's lips, and somehow you found yourself eager to please him. When you turn to look over the room you realised some of the patrons were looking right back.

"Oh, people are looking…" you whispered, trying to sink down and hide in your drink.

Matt chuckles. "Yes, staring at us. Jealousy is such a terrible thing. Do you perhaps want to go somewhere a little more private, sweetheart?"

You looked between them, unsure, your heart suddenly racing at the potential meaning in the question, as well as the added endearment.

"I-I…" your liquid courage had faded slightly but the soft warm touch of Elektra's hand over yours relaxed you more than you'd have thought as Matt continued.

"No pressure at all angelface, but I do have a nice little room upstairs."

Elektra leans in, "He means a penthouse. He owns this entire building."

You can't help but gawp slightly, this was no cheap diner you were sitting in. "You own this place? Do you live here?"

Elektra smiles and Matthew shrugs like it's nothing. "Some of the time. He flicks a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "Would you like to see? Like I said, no pressure, but we'd both love if you would join us."

You turn the proposition over in your mind - they were two of the most gorgeous people you had spent time with, they even smelled amazing, and they only seemed to want to show you a good time. Your eyes absently follow Elektra's slender fingers to Matt's thigh where she strokes and squeezes. He leans over to her and whispers something that makes her lips split in a grin showing nearly all of her beautiful white teeth.

You finish your drink, licking your lips and picking up your purse, your mind suddenly very firmly made up.

"Show me then."

The ride in the private elevator up to the penthouse is something else. Elektra took your hand in hers, leading you out of the restaurant as Matt was leaving a very generous tip before catching you up. You're all smiles and giggles as Matt presses his key against the lock of the lift and Elektra pulls you inside.

"You're such a pretty one," she was like a big cat that has you pinned and ready to devour as soon as the door slid closed, and you blush again as she strokes the side of your face, so very close to you you can feel her breath. "whoever the jerk was that stood you up should be cursing himself right now…"

Her fingers slide under your chin, her thumb resting lightly on your lower lip leaving you dumbfounded as her sultry gaze meets your eyes.

"May I?" She asks, and you're only half certain of what she's asking permission for but you nod quickly, murmuring a soft yes that melts into a moan as her mouth meets your own. She moves her lips against yours so delicately, like she knows you may never have kissed a woman before. She tastes as good as she looks, her scent and the sensation of her warm wet tongue on yours making your body heat up infinitely, and your hands automatically reach for her then halt, unsure of what's allowed.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Matthew answers from behind you. "Touch her, go on."

Your tentative fingers curl gently around the back of her long elegant neck holding her as she deepens the kiss, while your other hand grazes up the outside of her thigh where the split in her dress reveals her smooth bare skin. Her own hands continue to snake through your hair and curl around your waist, holding you closer so you can feel her warmth, feel the soft press of her breasts against your own.

You gasp, leaning against the wall of the elevator and tilting your head back as Elektra trails more kisses under your jaw and down the side of your neck to your decolletage.

Your eyes close and you feel Matthew beside you. "She's good isn't she, doll?"

You moan in agreement as Elektra fondles your breasts through your black strappy dress, teasing your hardened nipples with her fingers, teeth and tongue. You were already aroused at the bar, and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself getting wetter with every passing second, still wondering if this is all a dream.

Then the elevator pings, signaling that you've reached the top floor and the doors open to reveal a tastefully extravagant penthouse apartment before you.

"Oh, here we are!" She says teasingly, grabbing your hand again and Matt's, leading you both to the bedroom. It's the biggest bed you've ever seen and you wouldn't be surprised to learn if it's had many more people than three in it.

Matt's hand sneaks around your waist and you hold your breath as his lips brush your shoulder. "Can I get you anything sweetie?"

Your eyes are drawn to his plump lips as he runs his wicked tongue over to wet them.

"I… no, thank you Mr Murdock."

His grin is dark and delicious. "'Mr Murdock'. Mm, I like that…"

He leaves you temporarily alone with Elektra as he goes to the bar to fix a drink. She guides you to the edge of the bed, her deep brown eyes roving over your form as she raises her hand to your shoulder, pulling the strap to one side, and you shrug off the other, letting your dress to puddle on the floor leaving you in black lacy panties. You reach for her again, your fingers trailing up her arms and leaning in closer as you kiss for a second time. She breaks it off gently to turn around, raising her hair up so you can access the zip of her dress.

"Would you please?"

You oblige of course, taking your time drawing it down, kissing her neck and her shoulders as she did for you, down between her shoulder blades and down her spine to her lower back where you kneel as she pushes the remaining fabric off over her bare hips. She hadn't been wearing any underwear all evening.

She turns again and your face is right in front of her neatly trimmed mound. She looks down at you and smiles, beckoning you to your feet and then guiding you to kneel on the bed, following you and slotting her thighs between your own. You want to kiss her again and she welcomes it, her hands moving yours to her breasts as she encourages you to explore. She's so very firm yet yielding, her entire body is sculpted so athletically but you marvel at her softness, desperate to feel and perhaps taste all of her.

A whimper escapes your throat when you feel her soft touch between your thighs, her fingers stroking lightly over your panties, teasing you through the fabric.

You moan into her mouth, your tongue lapping softly against hers when she slips her hand inside to touch your slick cunt.

"Mmm, so nice and wet darling, good girl." She purrs and you feel your pussy throb and ache at her praise.

"Does she like it?" You hear Matthew ask as Elektra slowly starts rubbing right over your clit then slides two of her fingers down between your soaking folds, gently pushing them up inside you.

"Oh yes, fuck… yes!" You cry out, whining at the sudden loss when she withdraws, licking your juices from them.

"Mm, I'd say so." You can hear her smile.

"It's okay angel, lie down." Matt is at the foot of the bed, now his tie is gone and shirt is undone you can see just how incredibly ripped his body is. Your eyes cast downward to the rather large bulge in his slacks and you can't help how your body automatically clenches around nothing as you fantasize about him fucking you.

"I think she sees something she likes…" Elektra notes and you turn to look at her hungrily.

"I do, oh I do, but I want to… can I taste you first?" You ask her tentatively.

"Oh my darling, of course…" she carefully moves over you, hovering over your face, her gorgeous pussy on display for you. You quickly wrap your arms around her thighs and pull her down onto your mouth, reveling in the sensual sound she makes as your tongue licks a slow, wide stripe right up the middle of her. You discover you love her taste, musky but sweet, and you lap up as much of it as you can, swirling your tongue around and suckling on her swollen clit just the way that you would like, keen to find out if she does too.

You jerk as you feel warm hands on your hips, fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties and pulling them slowly down your legs. The bed dips slightly as you feel him, the kingpin, hitch your legs up and spread them gently apart. You moan deeply into Elektra's pussy as the warm whisper of his breath fans over your own exposed core.

"Forgive me, I just had this overwhelming urge to make you come on my mouth. Can I taste you, beautiful?" Matt asks so sweetly you could never say no, but you feel like he would stop right away if you ever did. You hear him as he takes a deep inhale and groans.

"You smell so delicious, little dove,"

You whimper again, still licking and fucking the beautiful woman above you with your tongue as you feel Matt swipe his thumb through your arousal, spreading it over your sensitive bud before he puts his mouth on you.

Your whole body feels alight. Turned on beyond belief, you encourage Elektra to grind onto your mouth as Matthew's extremely talented tongue works on taking you ever closer to coming apart. When he slides two of his fingers inside you briefly think of a shitty joke about blind men and g-spots before he finds yours with apparently zero effort, making you moan loud and buck your hips uncontrollably. He seems to know exactly what you like as if he's reading your body like Braille, you swear you can feel him smugly grinning against your cunt before he draws away for a second to speak.

"Think you can make her cum when I make you cum?"

"Oh she can Matthew, I know she can." Elektra answers breathlessly for you while you double down, trying your best to keep the rhythm that she likes while Matt fucks you with his fingers just the way you need. You feel your orgasm zeroing in, and you hold her fast to you as you start to shake. He latches onto your clit, flicking the tip and flat of his tongue over and over.

"Yes, just like that sweetheart, that's a good girl…"

And you don't know how but he makes you squirt as you come for the first time, gushing hard over his hand as he pumps his fingers inside you until you can't take any more. Your loud shuddering moans mingle with Elektra's as she throws her head back and you feel her twitching around you as she keeps grinding her wet pussy into your lips and tongue as she reaches her peak too.

You let her ride her pleasure out and she carefully dismounts lying on the bed beside you, turning onto her side to kiss her essence from your mouth as you both pant and gasp from the aftershocks of your orgasms.

"Fuck. I- I've never done any of that before!" You laugh with a warm feeling of relief, your body relaxing like goo into the mattress and they both smile, Matt making you giggle with the soft kisses he's trailing along your inner thighs.

"You are so good for us darling, so, so good." Elektra sighs with pleasure, and you shimmy further back onto the bed, propping yourself up on some pillows as you watch Matt stand and take off his pants and tented silk boxers in one smooth motion. His cock is impressive to say the least, springing up from between his thick thighs to smack against the tempting landscape of well defined abdominal muscles. You can't help but stare as he strokes himself with his hand as if he's putting on a show just for you.

"Tell me you're not glad your date stood you up." Elektra asks, grinning at you wickedly and you're almost surprised you're not drooling.

"So incredibly glad…' you reply, watching as Murdock teases his thumb over the head of his cock.

"Would you like to ride him, pretty girl?" She gestures to Matt as you watch him prowl onto the bed and settle down on his back beside you. "He's very good…" she adds.

You're practically eating him with your eyes. "Please… yes, god, yes please-" the words tumble out of your mouth and you try your best to hold yourself together as he guides you closer, his hands smoothing over your hips as you steady yourself on all fours above him.

Delicate fingertips dance across the skin of your back, your ass and around to your inner thighs making you let out a breath you'd been holding as he cups his hand over your pussy and pulls you down with the other behind your neck to his lips.

He tastes of you at first, but it melts away and lets you become addicted to the deeper, more delicious essence that's just so him. You may be on top but he's entirely in control, his hand slipping around under your jaw to your throat and holding you there as he licks his tongue against yours making you moan with pure want. He teases you, sliding his fingers between your folds through your wetness and leaving you needy as he takes his hand away to spread it over his cock. The action makes you clench and the corner of his mouth pulls up as if he can sense it.

"I think you're ready for me, aren't you sweetheart?"

You let out the breath you were holding, and your affirmation comes out as more of a moan than words.

He smiles, holding himself in hand, teasing you, running the head of his hard cock through your slick needy cunt so painfully slowly you want to beg him to hurry up and just ram you with it. But oh, the anticipation when he's lined up, just before he eases you down onto him creates a sizzling heat that spreads like a wildfire through your body, when you finally sink onto him and he fills you full.

"Mm angel, you feel so. fucking. good!"

His voice deepens to almost-purr, and you close your eyes, let him guide your hips with his hands, let him push a river of nonsensical euphoric words and whimpers from your lips as you begin to ride him.

"This okay for you, kitten?" He inquires with a grin.

You almost splutter out a laugh at the innocence in his question as he's fucking you into oblivion, but you're too lost in the sensation, too cock dumb to form any actual words so you just moan and nod hoping he can feel it.

Elektra's arms embrace you from behind, guiding you to sit up on your knees. Her hands cup your breasts and your head falls back against her shoulder as she teases and pinches your peaked nipples, connecting a fiery jolt of pleasure right to your core. Her body is molded perfectly to yours, moving with you as you rise and fall, her hand snaking down to your hip, her fingers interlocking with Matt's on your heated skin while the other slides slowly down your stomach and between your legs. She touches you again, drawing firm tight circles around your throbbing clit in time with Matthew's hips as they snap powerfully, relentlessly upward.

"Oh sweet girl, I can feel you getting closer…"

A moan escapes from your parted lips, they're driving you hard and fast to a mind blowing crescendo…

"C'mon beautiful, let go for me. Let me feel you come."

It's impossible to deny him or Elektra, crying out with pleasure as you reach your peak, watching in amazement as the Kingpin of Hell's Kitchen follows you into ecstasy as your pussy clenches repeatedly around his cock. He moans so beautifully, bucking up into you as your body milks him for all he's worth. Elektra is pushing you just that little bit farther until you're on the edge of yet another orgasm.

"Such a good girl for us…" her silky voice soothes into your ear until you're coming yet again, shuddering with overstimulation and begging her to stop. With aching thighs you carefully dismount from Matt's softening cock. He immediately pulls you close, kissing your forehead, Elektra curls her arms around you too bracketing you between them both and nuzzling into your nape. A contented sigh leaves your lips

The next morning once you're washed and treated to an incredible breakfast, it's finally time to leave this unbelievable bubble of sin that you'd been swept up into. You linger by the elevator door, Matthew has already called you a car at your request.

You suddenly find yourself blushing as it's time to go, even after everything you've done together.

"Thank you, um… for last night. I'm thinking I should let myself get stood up more often."

Both Matt and Elektra grin before kissing you on the cheek.

"if you give me that asshole's name and number, I'd like to teach him a little lesson in how to respect a lady... and, anytime you'd like to play, sweetheart," Matt says, producing a sleek business card seemingly from out of nowhere, "just call."

[voidcxltist]

What the fuck am I doing at 12:25 with no good sleep since early days of December? (Flash news: This post was finished at 1:09) I was writting about him

"Who's him?"

Shortly: Abel V. Lambert (Never knew if it standed for Vincent, Victor, or whatever other name or last name that starts with V) "Lucifer"

Detailed (lazy to translate to english):

Temas fuertes y/o sensibles a continuación (listados en seguida y en orden):

Sacrificio

Asesinato

Trauma

Infertilidad

Implicaciones sexuales

Pérdida de figura paternal

Abel V. Lambert era hijo de dos nobles ovejas, de nombre Jozef y Marye, antes de Abel venía su hermano de sangre, Iesuph, ambos, junto a su hermano, cuidaron a Abel para que creciera fuerte desde su vientre, porque muchas ovejas en la región en la que vivían eran infértiles o los esposos habían muerto por defender el movimiento de lugar, más cuando nació, porque tendían a ser devorados por los viruses los pequeños.

Mientras que Shamura y Kallamar cazaban a las últimas mujeres del rebaño para que nadie pudiera reproducirse, Abel se hacía rápidamente de fuerza e inteligencia, todo nato, dado que eran una familia muy dotada de bendiciones por ser constantes acólitos de Aquel Que Espera.

Gracias a su dios, vivieron escondidos junto con un selecto grupo de otras especies que adoraban a este mismo, por varios años.

Sin embargo, después de tiempos de paz, probablemente los suficientes para que Abel tuviera madurez mental y física, los Obispos los encontraron. Leshy dió la luz de alerta primeriza, por haberlos encontrado por su aroma cerca de un bosque donde recolectaban frutos.

Dada las circunstancias, y porque Abel todavía era muy jóven y Jozef pasó más tiempo con su hijo menor, Iesuph y Marye se quedaron a sacrificarse, buscando distraer a los grandes mandos para poder defender al niño.

Lamentablemente, fue en vano.

Jozef, junto con Abel, fueron secuestrados por los Obispos para más tarde sacrificarlos. De primeras, Jozef intentó pelear contra uno de los guardias que lo llevaba, lamentablemente, aprendió que el color sangre no quedaba bien con su pelaje blanco puro.

Abel, traumatizado por ver a su padre morir frente a sus ojos en esfuerzo de salvarlo, cedió, aceptando que su rebaño estaba muerto.

Más tarde, fue despiadadamente despojado de su ropa de fiel de Aquel Que Espera, gracias a que aprendió a escuchar sobre a hablar, entendió algo entre los murmullos de los morbosos cuidadores que lo iban vistiendo con la ropa de sacrificio

— "Este cordero... ¿no has notado algo extraño?"

— "Será que es infértil. Pfft, el último de su clase, y morirá sin saber que nunca podrá tener hijos."

Al momento, Abel le daba igual, solo quería que el dolor se acabara.

Eso, hasta que Aquel Que Espera lo salvó.

Encargado con una misión sencilla, y un dote de inmortalidad, junto a su "padre" (que este mismo nunca supo que le decía así) Ratau, empezó a expandir su culto. Mientras crecía de edad mental, más no de edad física, Abel empezó a criar a su culto para perdonar, para creer en qur las personas se pueden redimir.

¿Porqué? Porque Abel nunca creyó que los Obispos actuaran por mera ira contra su benefactor. Sabía que había más, detrás de sus apariencias oscuras y miedos profundos. Cuando se enteró que los mismos eran hermanos, y Aquel Que Espera fue también uno de ellos, creció su moral, y sus ganas de redimir caídos.

A pesar de no tener suficiente tiempo para desarrollar sus hobbies favoritos como bailar, cantar o escribir, decidió llevar a cabo sus prácticas a la escena del combate. Matando enemigos bailando y cantando repetidamente sus coros y alabanzas.

Si, murió varias veces, perdiendo bastante oro y comida en su entrada y salida del Purgatorio con Aquel Que Espera regañándolo o diciéndole que tenía que tener más cuidado.

Para cuando llegó con el Obispo del Caos, nada lo detenía.

Cuando derrotó a Leshy, decidió empezar a hacer magia con los corazónes hejeres, así que, gracias a que empezó a manipular la alquímia, consiguió hacerse de la habilidad de teletransportarse.

Y así, su trayecto con la matanza de los Obispos, empezó a formar una máquina de matar, un verdadero recipiente de la Corona Roja

Descubrió, al llegar a Anura, que había ciertos hongos que podrían hacer que sus adeptos tuvieran el cerebro lavado, y así, creyeran en él por tres días, antes de enfermar, así que, aprovechando que había un ayuno, los dió como "premio", de pasada comiéndo uno él mismo.

Juraría que esos tres días fueron los más extraños, y la resaca fue peor. Pero, hey, ¡tenía ya el corazón de Heket!

Experimentando un poco más con ello, encontró la manera de revivir, a cambio de tomar de sacrificio a uno de sus adeptos. Prometióse nunca hacerlo.

Había pasado tiempo, y no llegaba algo nuevo a su vida, se entristecía y era muy sensible, incluso olvidaba dar su sermón diario por salir a recolectar cosas y escribir en la noche hasta que se hartára y cayera rendido.

Hasta que derrotó al tercer Obispo, Kallamar.

Después de haber visto a su Corona Roja transformarse, hablar y decirle que el pecado era una nueva manera de conseguir poder también, empezó a redoblar sus esfuerzos por no pecar tanto para no corromperse y así manejar su poder libremente.

Hasta que las épocas de celo llegaron.

Todas empezaban con una sensación fuerte de calor a pesar de que hiciera frío, pero para la hora siguiente, parecía como si se hubieran acabado ya. Como si nada hubiera pasado.

Abel empezó a preguntarse seriamente, ¿porqué no podría sentir eso, que le indicaba que era tiempo de darse a encontrar una pareja? De primeras, lo atribuyó a la celibatía, aspecto que varios adeptos querían tomar. Pero, de segundas, empezó a pensar...

¿Si no llega la época, porqué no mejor llevo la época hacia mi?

Lo siguiente es historia, encamó DEMASIADOS de sus fieles, haciendo que la lujuria fuera el segundo aspecto más importante para el culto, así, creando pecado.

Bueno, eso, hasta que nació el primer niño del culto, un hermoso niño que de nombre llevaba "Naitre", por la palabra "Nacer", del ahora muerto francés humano.

"Lucifer", como lo apodaban los soldados herejes, se sintió MUY enfermo ese día, no podía caminar, no podía ni siquiera ver al infante, era como si le dieran un golpe tras golpe de una dolorosa realidad...

No podría ser padre jamás.

Afirmado por le mismísime Shamura en una noche que rondaba Foresta Oscura para recolectar carmines, dijo que él era infértil, y que por más que intentara, su semilla de nacimiento sería un desperdicio de energía y vida. Que era mejor retirarse de ese camino.

De principios, cuando la lujuria lo invadió, era una oferta máxima, ¡Jamás embarazaría a nadie sin querer! ¡Podría hacer lo que que quisiera! Así, bien dicho antes, viviendo entre cama y cama, derramó infértiles semillas en cuerpos ajenos.

Ahora que su madurez por fin se asentaba, no podía tolerar salir de su tienda, lloraba amargamente, sintiéndose devastado. Quería simplemente destruirse, destruirse por haber pensado de tal forma. Quería un hijo suyo, una sangre que cuidar. Pero nada. Jamás sería padre.

El dolor era tanto, que apenas se concentraba, rondaba el culto como un alma en pena, un cascarón vacío.

Nada le traía felicidad, nada... O eso, hasta que su adepto Ramses se le propuso en matrimonio, después de años de espera y de ser únicamente novios.

Con energía y golpeado de amor, corrió de lado a lado haciendo granjas, enfermería, todo lo necesario, e incluso regresaba ileso, con el doble de materiales.

Para cuando se posó enfrente de Shamura, aprendió el nombre de su maestro, Narinder. Seguramente se alegraría de saber que ya nadie podría llamarlo así.

Pasó un tiempo, tiempos en los cuales tuvo que hacer... acercamientos.

¿Qué harías si te engañaran y te manipularan a creer que haces el bien, cuando en realidad traicionas a tu figura paterna? Abel lo aprendió de muy mala manera.

Durante el transcurso de conseguir los adeptos suficientes para poder abrir el lugar donde Narinder se encontraba, en Pilgrim's Passage sorprendentemente se cruzó caminos con una leyenda muy antigua de su familia, el Zorro Rojo.

Este estimado y aprovechado "amigo", de primeras, necesitaba comida. Decían entre la sangre de Abel, que era señal de que vendría un gran cambio,.

El encapuchado de ojos rojos quería comer, así que Abel le dió un pescado grande y se fué.

Más tarde, en Smuggler's Sanctuary, se lo volvió a encontrar. Afortunadamente (o desafortunadamente?) su trato era un adepto, Abel entregaría un espía. Para cuando lo encontró en Spore Grotto, pedía dos adrptos, o un corazón.

Abel, por el miedo y la incertidumbre, sacrificóse para darle un corazón.

Pero un día en Midas' Cave, probablemente cerca de un día muy importante, Abel se lo encontraría otra vez al Zorro, esta última vez, la cual prometía sellar el trato... Ofrecía el que Abel sacrificara a Ratau.

¿Cóno haría eso? No supo, pero para después de negarlo una vez, finalmente cedió. Frente a sus ojos, invocó a su figura paterna, a su figura de cuidado. Y la entregó a las fauces del vulpes.

Lo último que escucharía, sería el grito ahogado, y el desgarrador sonido de huesos crujiendo frente a sus atónitos ohos. Después del golpe de adrenalina, exigió su pago a el Zorro...

"¿Tú recompensa? El don de la claridad."

Abel apenas pudo contener sus lágrimas, aceptando un pedazo de talismán que ahora era inútil para él. Antes de llegar a su tienda, muchos adeptos pedían cosas, pero simplemente se negaba, cosa rara de el lider.

Apenas se encerró, lloró mares. Ramses apenas lo pudo consolar, diciéndole que Narinder lo pagaría por su mano propia, ya wue no le daría la espalda a su mejor adepto...

Mentiras, otra vez. Porqur en este mundo, los mentirosos abundan. Narinder, admitiéndose el maquinador del plan que llevaría a Abel a ser un simple peón, fue el último estrago que lo rompió.

Se desató la batalla no del siglo, del mismísimo eon en el que estaban, aterrorizados y en cruces, sus adeptos miraban con miedo como iba a desenlazar todo.

Pero cuando Abel lo tuvo bajo la cabeza del martillo de brillo dorado, en su forma más disminuida... ¿Qué vería, sino otro triste, asuatado felino?

Bajó su martillo, mirando al vaato oscuro lugar, suspiró. Entregó su confianza a que cambiaría.

Valió la pena, y mucho, porque todavía Narinder, sigue mencionándole que de no ser por el, sus hermanos y el no estarían en proceso de reconciliación.

Después, todo fue calma, recolectar unas cuantas monedas... hasta que Midas atacó.

En una salida a sus cruzadas, Abel se encontraba checkeando los diferentes lugares, cuando... vió a Midas profanando tumbas. Se iba a disponer a atacarlo, cuando la desgraciada estrella de mar le robó el 75% de las ganacias del culto. No una, tres veces. Dejándolo a que en un futuro, las monedas escaseáran, ¿porqué? Porque se asentó en frente de donde sería el portal hacia el lugar de Narinder, Oculus.

Oculus, un bastardo, por no decirlo de otra forma, hacía de vendedor místico, entregando cosas por lágrimas divinas. Lágrimas las cuales, Abel no poseía el control de que obtener. Y no solo eso, sino que criticába a Abel de maneras muy horrendas por no ser "más que un dios infante".

Prefirió mejor, seguir con la tarea: Hacer descansar a los Bishops. Y regresar a Aym y Baal a su madre, Forneus, gracias a que Narinder dijo que ellos llegaron como gatitos, y la estimada vendedora de la tienda tenía hijos antes de robarlos. Simplemente encajaba.

Lo siguiente es más que simple de narrar, Abel mata a los residuos mortales de los respectivos Chaos, Famine, Pestilence & War and Knowledge, antes de darles una oportunidad de redimirse, y sanar de manera longeva más no perpetua sus acongojes con sus partes perdidas. Y mirntras tanto, llevó a los gatos con su madre.

¿Qué es ahora de Abel? Vive bailando mirntras asesina hejeres esparcidos en las tierras de The Old Faith, y ayuda a Narinder a reconciliarse con Kallamar y Leshy, los cuales, simplemente no están viendo todo.

¿Y Ramses? Murió. Narinder se ofreció a tonar su puesto, though.

Así, concluye por ahora la historia de Abel V. Lambert...

Eso, hasta que el hielo se rompa y venga lo que tenga que venir desde fuera de las tierras de donde están.

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

Hi :3 here's a (used to be roleplay-) idea that my former friend and I had together!

The main storyline was Victorian era Roman/Logan and revolved around them. Like Logan was marrying Roman's sister and the two guys kinda didn't like each other but then had to spend time together for her (Roman wasn't home often as a opera singer so ofc his sister wanted to hang out with him, so Logan was dragged along) and yes unfortunately they did technically cheat (as happened often then) (dont condone cheating personally) but then both guys confessed and begged her forgiveness (she forgave them) (saw Lo as more of a bestie anyway, same way he saw her) (they married to save face, had roman live with them as a Hot Bachelor, she was aro I think)

But there was Remus/Virgil in this too.

Remus was sort of the unloved brother. There were four siblings total (Sister, Roman, Remus, unnamed brother) and Remus was considered the weird and odd one. They're all rather rich and among the aristocracy so it makes sense that he'd be looked at weirdly with his interests. I don't remember all of it.

Then there's this guy. Virgil, his name supposedly is. He's quiet and was born with a messed up leg so has a cane. That's not why he's bitter he's just bitter in general (but we love him). And Remus is just. So in love with him.

Remus technically helps cover Roman's affair by being more gay louder. Virgil doesn't mind being more outwardly gay because he thinks he's looked at weird anyway (ableism should die in a hole) (we had too much realism in this damn rp idea) and also neither spooky gay really wanted to go to the parties or soirees or rich people parties anyway.

I think the spooky gays owned a quaint home close to Roman/Logan (and obvi cool sister) and visited often when everything came out and was understood. They owned rats. Remus was a scientific researcher (think mad scientist) (appropriate for time period) and Virgil was an artist under a pseudonym.

(also the fourth unnamed brother had a wife and they were really sweet and cookie cutter adorable. I'm 99% sure they were also cool with the queerness and sneaking around, even covering for them. I just remember he and his wife were damn cool)

(I'm really fond of the Roman/Logan plot too it was like so heart wrenching to come up with we were INVESTED)

but spooky gays :3

— 👑

S C R E A M I N G I fucking L O V E that S O damn much!!! Opera Singer Ro is underrated as hell and I fucking L O V E the twist of Ro and Ree's sister being Aro and okay with Lo and Ro seeing each other <3 Ree really is a true brother like manz is willing to be even louder and prouder of being Gay with his boyf just to help his twin not get too much controversy over an affair (Also the Spooky Beloveds owning Rats and being a Mad Scientist X Artist couple is something I L O V E S O fucking much and the twins having more siblings is something I did not know I needed until now /positive)