#i made this just so i could have the 'YOU' image. for when i am suffering from advanced stage Triangle Disease
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Dude yeah Solas going back to the prison is so dumb to me. Like I assumed before seeing Trick’s post they he and the inquisitor were going into the fade itself to where he sealed the dreams or whatever. But instead I’m going to take my wife to my divorcee empty ass apartment where the ghosts of my past call me a wet loser? What?
JHGKEJRGHKERJHGKREJGH no ur right. i think it genuinely only works when you look at it from a mythological story perspective rather than the two of them as individual people... which is interesting because their whole stories are kind of about how they lose themselves to the myth that surrounds them... so i think its supposed to be the ultimate conclusion of that.
they are at once both finally free of the burdens of the myths and expectations that follow them as the dread wolf and the herald of andraste because they have left the mortal world that forced them into those roles and stripped them of their personhood, but they have also completely submitted themselves to those roles by submitting to the logical conclusion of the myths that they could not escape. for the dread wolf, it is earning his redemption through his willing submission to his own trap. its the logical, full-circle mythological conclusion to the trickster who trapped the gods, now trapped for eternity himself (allegedly, he will prob eventually break out... even loki gets his freedom during ragnarok...). for the inquisitor, it is andraste's herald finally sharing andraste's fate, choosing to leave the mortal world behind to ascend to the golden city alongside the god that she loves. both (presumably, for a lavellan) have tried to reject the myths attached to them over and over and over, but in the end they choose them willingly, and that choice at once binds them to those myths forever while simultaneously freeing them from the burden of them. its giving oedipal greek tragedy of attempting to outrun your fate and it finding you anyway, just when you thought you were finally making your own choice, but with a hopeful and bittersweet spin. its actually fucking insanely brilliant when i think about it this way it makes me genuinely foam at the mouth.
however the major caveat to this is i do not think this is presented nearly clear enough in veilguard. the only reason i am able to create such wonderful, deep meaning from this is honestly because my bachelor's degree is in literature and i literally have formal academic training analyzing storytelling. and it took me like a week to actually sift through all this in my brain and go back and sift through lines and images in the game to support my analysis. it should not take that much work, it should have been more clear. because yeah, the first time you play it it absolutely feels like your girly pop lavellan is making the WORST, down-bad delulu decision of her life while the rest of the world is screaming GIRL DUMP HIM!!!!!!!! and im not suggesting im smarter than anyone for looking at it “the right way” or anything like that. im saying that i think in order to get the meaning from it that the writers intended, you have to look at it through a very specific literary lens, and that is something that most people are not going to default to… because why would you? the story should lead you there on its own. there shouldn’t be a niche prerequisite to enjoying the ending. a few more lines about people made into myths, much like those we got throughout inquisition, could’ve helped facilitate this. they did a great job of hammering in the regret and choice themes to the point it was like beating a dead horse with a stick. and there are a few good lines that kind of give this vibe (“you’re not JUST the inquisitor, right?” “they call me the dread wolf, what will they call you when this is over?” “there is no fate but the love we share,” a codex from felassan about solas being forced to play into the dread wolf persona, etc.) but they probably could’ve added a few more to talk about mythological apotheosis and choice in the context of fate rather than just in the context of regret, and it would’ve helped at least a bit.
so i fully understand peoples discomfort with the ending as a result. i think it’s a logical conclusion to come to based on how the story presents itself. however im pretty confident that this mythological vibe was tricks intention, based on a lot of their comments about their writing process and inspiration for solas, and the way they have written him overall. @corseque has a lot of amazing posts in her solas tag that talk specifically about the very deliberately mythological way that weekes wrote solas, and i think this is essential context for understanding the ending that the game simply does not sufficiently provide. it also definitely invalidates a lot of people's perceptions of not just their inquisitor, but the solavellan romance as well. however i hope me blabbing about how it can be absolutely brilliant when viewed through a specific lens might help people feel more at peace with it <3
#OK U GUYS HAVE TO STOP PROMPTING ME TO WRITE ESSAYS I HAVE TO GO DO WORK JERHGKJERHGJKREG#but thank u for this <3#solavellan#solas#veilguard spoilers#datv spoilers#da:v spoilers#dav spoilers#mine.txt#meta#ask
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˚₊‧꒰ა preparing winter arc ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
It's been a while uh? Since... September I guess. I manifested stuff like food... Basically food and 1k subscribers. Which is nice and
Thank you so much!!! 🩵🩷🩵🩷
Here is a little story. Before I made this page, I've already made many many many tumblr accounts about Loa. Nothing happened. I posted and waited for people to come. I wanted to be popular. But.. No.. I had 5 followers.. Counting myself with.
With Pamicakery, when I created that page.. I felt like my post will be viral if I can put it like this. For me, it was a great idea. No doubts it's gonna flop. I decided. Today I am here sitting with 1k people with me. 1k. I never had so much in my life but I knew. I decided, I told myself that this page is gonna grow. People will come and appreciate what I have to say.
Before the Pamicakery account, I had an Instagram page. I used to post my drawing and nothing happened. For 3 years. Even if I posted, the best I could have got was 5 likes.
I put it as a goal. I want my 100 followers. I want them and I will have them. I affirmed, for days. 3 days I affirmed. Even thought I saw that. For me that 84 will change into a 100.
And here we are 3 days later.
Your life can change In a snap of the fingers.
It's not a lie. This is what a change of mindset do to your 3d. I wasn't destined to keep my 72 followers for the rest of my life. It was a circumstance but I decided that I was above it.
And I was thinking about my appearance and I was like.. How many
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
Are we gonna be like this? Crying over our desires, seeing summer and winter pass. How many time? Because one day, if you do nothing your Sp will be taken, your job offer will go away. How many time will your scroll on tumblr for the best advice? Are you gonna have epiphany at 60's?
Why do you keep asking '' Can I manifest this or that? ''.
You decide. It's like going in a restaurant and asking another customer if you can order this or that.
Stop seeing your life Scrolling in front of eyes. Years and years are going. We have to be strong, we have to decide and persist.
It's not that bad if you don't believe it but keep persisting in having the thought that you can do it.
Keep thinking it. It will become an assomption.
You are the General and your army follows you. If you think you will fail, you army will think that too.
You don't want to be a loser anymore, you don't want to whine about your circumstances. So do i.
We have only one 2024 in all the history of humanity and you are wasting this. So get up, and train your mind to success, Saturate it with your achievement, be happy because you will succeed, Program your brain to success. Affirm, visualise. The success must be running 24/24 in your mind.
Get up early, if it's hard? Go harder! But never stop, decide. Don't let the 3d making fun of you anymore. If you think it's to hard, you are weak, the 3d will not sugar coat you.
Be stronger, be unstoppable. Shout in your 4d, Roar in your mind, and keep going! Keep going and keep going and keep going. Take 5 minutes and repeat that you will succeed, go to your mind to seek for evidence, persist and never give up.
One day there will be no more 3 days, or a week, or tomorrow. Decide to change today, right now.
-choose.
-see it as a goal.
-The image of your success should be your 4d wallpaper.
-Affirm and Condition Your Brain for Success
-Persist and know that it will change.
-make internal conversation.
-Repeat the thought of you being good at manifesting
LET'S DO THIS WINTER ARC AS MASTERS MANIFESTER.
(I just came here to say that, but then.. I'll put myself in the state of a conqueror, a warrior and a master Manifester. 🐎)
#loa tumblr#law of assumption#loassumption#robotic affirming#loa assumptions#manifestation#affirming loa#loa blog#affirm and manifest 🫧 🎀✨ ִִֶָ ٠˟#affirm and persist
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Safest with You (The Epilogue)
3.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader
Summary: You and Din welcome a new member to your family.
Warnings: All fluff - just the way we started this series! Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).
A/N: A cute little glimpse into the lives of our happy couple around two years after the series finale. 112 Carlota Galgos is a real Galgo rescue in Spain! I won't go into the circumstances that make the rescue work they do so important, but many of you know that I have a greyhound, and the plight of the Galgo is well known in the sighthound community. These dogs deserve the world!! If you have an opportunity to check out organizations that aid Spanish Galgos or even help - I promise these gentle giants deserve it. Lisette is a real galgo I knew! She passed last year and this epilogue is dedicated to her (cute pics included at the end!)
I’m posting this on the one year anniversary of Chapter 1!! I can’t believe it’s been a whole year of writing these bbs 🥹 Thank you thank you everyone who has supported and followed along with this series - you are all as dear to me as Pretty Bird's garlic knots are to Mayfeld 🥹🥰 (I still plan on publishing that recipe!)
Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always! 🥰 / Series Masterlist
Just before your finger is about to press down the call button on the outside of the closed metal gate, you retract your hand and look questioningly at Din.
“How many am I allowed to get again?”
Din stares at you for a second to ascertain if you’re kidding and when he sees you’re not, a little panic sets in on his face, “One, pretty bird. Just one.”
“But…”
“We only made arrangements with the airline for one, baby.”
You pout a little, but know Din’s right, “Okay. Fine. One.”
Somewhat dejectedly you press the button, though the chorus of barks and yelps from the other side of the gate resulting from the chime of the bell perk you up immediately, and by the time the gate is buzzed open with a loud brrrrzzzt, you’re giddy with excitement again.
This is the last planned destination of the European trip you and Din have been on for the last three weeks, both of you looking forward to flying home in just a few days.
The vacation has been an absolute dream. You and Din have eaten your way through Amsterdam (Stroopwafels! Bitterballen!), then Paris (Steak frites! Macarons! Croissants! One, sometimes two baguettes a day!), followed by Rome (Gelato! Pasta until you exploded!), and then finally Barcelona (Paella! Bombas!) before ending up where you are now: Andalucia, Spain, outside the gates of the 112 Carlota Galgos dog rescue.
The happy and excited woofs from the still unseen pups remind you so much of Alfredo. Gosh, you miss your best guy so much – although, if the daily photos and videos you’ve been receiving are to be believed, he might be hard pressed to leave Paz’s when you get back. By now a minor celebrity in Din and Paz’s neighbourhood, you’re happy to see that Al’s been making the rounds at the local shops (and accepting generous samples everywhere he goes), enjoying fun road trips to nearby hiking trails, and most importantly, helping Paz cement his image as an attractive, eligible bachelor about town. You’re sure if you were to peek at Paz’s dating app profile, you’d see it updated with copious pictures of him fawning over your dog.
Originally, you had been hesitant to have Paz take Al to his place for three whole weeks, wondering if it was better if instead, Paz could come and dog-sit at your and Din’s place – but Al does seem to be adjusting to being away from home just fine. Though Alfredo is generally super easy going and adaptable, you nevertheless recognized that it had been quite a year of transition and multiple upheavals for your pup and worried about how he might cope with yet another change in scenery.
Nearly a year ago, you and Din moved in together and Al had been uprooted from the only home he’s ever known. Though it wasn’t without some understandable disinclination that you left your beautiful and much-loved apartment, both of you agreed it made perfect sense for you to move into Din’s place above Mando’s. Of course you loved your old place – you had poured so much of your heart and soul into making it your refuge and the perfect home for you and Al, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to regret leaving – Din is your home now, as you are his. The only safe haven you need is the one with him, and though you’re sure he would have moved without hesitation if you had asked, the idea of Din leaving a residence right above his place of work, in a building he already owned, was too silly to even entertain.
To try and make the adjustment as smooth as possible for his pretty bird, Din had given you free reign to redecorate, bring in your furniture, and make whatever changes you wanted in order to make his, now your, apartment feel more like home. The third floor of Mando’s would always hold his most cherished memories of his childhood and father – he didn’t need it to look a certain way or have it maintained as some kind of physical shrine in order for that to be true; Din was ready to make a home and new memories with you. It was sweet and you appreciated the gesture prodigiously, but aside from adding your own bookshelves and swapping out a couch, the only thing you had asked for was a bigger kitchen. Din had readily agreed and even suggested he build you an expanded closet and turn the second bedroom into a home office-dog den for you and Al. Din’s enthusiasm and eagerness for the project was enough to have you agreeing to his considerate suggestions.
What had followed was seven months of renovation chaos, living out of and tripping over boxes as a slew of tradespeople and workmen paraded in and out of what was supposed to be your new sanctuary.
You love Din with all your heart, and one of the things you love most and find endlessly attractive is just how good he is at the things he does: taking care of you and Al, supporting the community, running Mando’s – to say nothing of the skill and prowess he displays in his work in and out of the ring; just the sight of Din running drills with his boxers or deftly commanding the Mandos gets you weak in the knees.
But elaborate home improvements and remodelling? Unfortunately, not part of Din’s impressive skill set. Nor any of the Mandos for that matter. For two weeks, every Mando on payroll seemed to be over at your place “helping” with measurements and the demolition of the kitchen and the wall between the two bedrooms. Only after a burst pipe and the subsequent three weeks of living with drying fans running 24/7, did Din concede it was time to call in professionals. Then came a parade of contractors and their respective plumbers, cabinet guys, drywall, tile and marble contacts, electricians, etc. – who all seemed to owe some kind of “favour” to Boba. The good thing about that was they were committed to doing a good job; the bad thing was that no one was particularly dedicated to doing a fast job. For the next five months, you, Din and Al lived in a construction zone of various partially started and finished projects with different strangers coming in and out of your place at all hours of the day – it had stressed Al out endlessly.
A little over half a year after moving in with Din, you hit a breaking point and, with Din’s encouragement, packed a suitcase and took Al to stay at Bea’s until a firm completion deadline could be negotiated with the various contractors. Din had insisted on staying behind to lead the "negotiations" and "supervise" the follow through; lo and behold, everything had been completed to perfection and cleaned up thoroughly two weeks after. Upon seeing the beautiful finished space, you finally felt at home – though frustrated, you hadn’t ever been terribly mad about the whole situation, but it had been a very confusing time for your pup.
Din had felt awful – this wasn’t the symbolic big step and storybook start to your lives together that he had envisioned. You either, if you were being honest, but it genuinely mattered very little in the grand scheme of things; you reminded Din, as the two of you christened every surface of your brand new kitchen, that your lives together had really started a year before moving in together, when he had taken his own big step and shown up outside of your office, making you the promise to be open and honest about everything.
And he had. Din had forgiven himself and won you back, and these last two years have been the happiest of your lives, even with the renovations.
In that time a lot’s happened. Jimmy won another two division championships and moved up a weight class. Cass announced that her and Rikard were expecting. Rory’s bridal boutique expanded to a second even more successful location and to her chagrin, she was promoted to manager. The second book in Bea’s series came out to amazing reviews and the anticipation and hype for the third (due out later this year) was through the roof. Poe decided to pursue and then successfully obtained his pilot license. You went up in his Cessna just once – the views had been unforgettable, Lisa getting sick in your lap no lesser so. Katie guest starred on Law and Order – twice (two different characters). You met the Mods. And Al finally settled into his new home, overseeing his new kingdom from the plush and cozy dog den that his dad lovingly built for him.
And now you and Din are about to take another big step together.
Greeted enthusiastically by one of the women who runs the Spanish hunting dog haven with whom you’ve been conversing with over the past few months about adoption, you and Din take a tour of the facility before being led out back to meet the dogs.
Per Elenna’s guidance, you sit in a chair near the water bowls and let the galgos come to you on their own terms. Some, understandably, are shy and timid, wary of strangers – tentatively, they come and investigate you with their snoots, eventually accepting your gentle pats and scritches once they feel comfortable enough. Others have no such hesitation - tails wagging, curious and excited, they enthusiastically crowd you, nosing in for pets and try to sniff out the treats you have in your pocket. Your chest expands, heart nearly tripling in size to see these dogs get to be dogs again, as you rub their little faces and coo endless words of deserved praise at them for their bravery.
Maybe the plane will have room for another crate, you think, or two? You can’t stop giggling as your face is licked and poked with wet noses, or when those same noses goose your tummy and legs, competing for the attention of your busy hands – you’re in heaven, nearly overwhelmed by all this furry cuteness. Surely Din cannot possibly expect you to limit yourself to one! Knowing the marshmallow squish that resides beneath his hard and steely frame, you’re willing to bet that Din has already softened his stance on taking home multiple pups. You crane your neck to see over the dogs, looking around the property to see if you can locate your boyfriend.
To your surprise, you find him not being surrounded by enthusiastic, bounding galgos, but alone - crouching near the ground and gently scratching a smaller fawn coloured dog who’s laying on her side, her slender head lifted just slightly off the ground to lean into Din’s hand.
“That’s Lisette,” Elenna says when she notices you looking at Din and the fawn girl, “she’s just come to us after this last hunting season - we found her in the street with a broken leg. She’s all healed up now but is still quite skittish, especially around men. This is actually the first time I’ve ever seen her let a man touch her, never mind a stranger. Your husband must have a very calming touch.”
“Oh, he’s not my husb-” your voice trails off as you watch Lisette continue to happily receive Din’s attention. Walking over, you hear him speaking quietly to her in Spanish.
“What are you telling her, Din?”
Din looks up, eyes soft and shiny, “Just telling her what a good girl she is. That’s she so brave and sweet. And that she doesn’t have anything to be afraid of anymore. She’s safe now.”
There is no question as to which (one) dog you’ll be adopting today.
Lisette settles in quickly when you and Din get her back home, especially with Al immediately taking up his role as big brother. Lisette falls into the easy comfort of following his lead, regularly looking to Alfredo for guidance – he never leads her astray and the two of them become inseparable. With growing pride, you watch Lisette tentatively explore her new environment and slowly over the next few months, becomes more and more comfortable in her forever home: first your and Din’s apartment, then the gym, whose enthusiastic occupants always greet her like the princess she is, and eventually the entire neighbourhood where she’s never without her protective brother by her side. When she’s ready, you and Din take her and Al out on further away adventures: to your and Din’s favourite farmers’ market, Poe and Lisa’s (where you learn in their pool that Lisette can swim!) or to Boba and Fennec’s where she can run and play with Mochi and the other Daimyo Dogs. Your heart positively kvells as Lisette’s confidence grows and she becomes the happy pup she deserves to be, putting her less than ideal start to life behind her.
The only thing you wish you could change, though you would never push, is that Lisette won’t cuddle with you - she only ever cuddles with Din. You know she loves you, but she’s very much a daddy’s girl and he’s the only one with whom she feels safe enough to have in such close proximity while sleeping or relaxing. You don’t begrudge Lisette at all for feeling this way; Din is her protector, she trusts him to keep her safe - you understand the comfort of that feeling better than anyone.
And in truth, you love watching them together – seeing your sweet girl so at ease and your strong, formidable warrior melt into a puddle of goo when she burrows into the warmth of his lap. Din talks to Lisette in Spanish all the time, repeating what he told her back in Andalucia: she’s safe now, she doesn’t have to be scared anymore - this is her home.
Your home feels complete now – there’s nowhere you would rather be than cuddled up on the couch with Din, each respectively loving on the pups that have curled up against you: you, Al and Din, Lisette.
Then one day, you’re on the couch tapping away on your laptop when Lisette saunters up to you. You rub her little head and give her a little smooch on her snoot as she walks by, fully expecting her to wander away but she surprises you to no end when she hops up on the couch and curls up by your feet. Terribly delighted but not wanting to spook her, you pretend like it’s no big deal – your heart, however, is doing jumping jacks; looking up with a big smile you see Din nodding encouragingly at the both of you.
And then she does it again. And again. At first still staying arms length from you, she inches closer and closer, little by little. Though your chest is exploding and you want to shout with joy, you always remain calm and give Lisette copious amounts of quiet praise after she’s settled. To celebrate this progress, Din will eventually come over to shower Lisette with additional treats and Spanish words of adulation that she happily accepts. Sometimes you even catch him encouraging her before she comes over to you or see her looking back at him for reassurance before she climbs onto the bed or couch to sit with you. Always her protector, her safe space.
It's slow going, but worth it.
Today, you’re on the couch having just finished a book, funnily enough it’s the most recent in the fantasy series that Din had bought you and your friends on that first day you met nearly four years ago, when you see Lisette moseying on over to you. You swing your legs off the couch and pat the spot next to you, and to your delight, she hops up and starts to do her little nesting circles, prepping for her laydown spot. When she finally settles, she lays her little head in your lap and you think your heart might burst. You look up and see Din, handsome and relaxed, leaning against one of the bookshelves looking at the both of you with an adoring expression on his face. You beam back - yep, the two of you are his girls. The ones he takes care of. Looks after. Loves.
Lisette nuzzles her furry little face deeper into your thigh and you can’t help but giggle at the sensation. “Okay, okay,” you chuckle, as if you needed any invitation to pet and love on her. Dispensing gentle scritches all over her head and little ear rubs, you notice that your sweet girl has an extra collar on. Normally Lisette wears just a martingale and sometimes nothing at all when she’s at home, but today, she’s got a thin rope collar encircling her neck as well. Rubbing it between your fingers, you say to Din, “This is pretty! When did she get this house collar?”
“Got it for her a while ago, but thought I’d wait for the right moment to put it on. Do you like it?”
Lisette lifts her head and you take the opportunity to take a closer look at the pretty pink collar; admiring the delicate metalware and the luxurious feeling fibres of the rope, you run your fingers over the collar until you get to the small clasp in the front and feel something you don’t expect. Rotating the collar around Lisette’s slender neck so you can get a better look at the thin object, you gasp when it comes into view.
A diamond ring.
Din, with Al by his side, starts to walk towards you, the look in his eyes clear and so easy to read: Devotion. Adoration. Love.
“Pretty bird…” he starts. Din has an entire speech planned. He needs to thank you for coming into his life and showing him what true strength and power is. Grace, honesty, and compassion have been your gifts to him, and he’s a better man, a stronger man, for your kindness and generosity. He wants to promise you that your faith in him will never be misplace – that he will cherish you and your heart to the very last beat of his own and beyond. He loves you, admires you, trusts you, is in awe of you, and remains forever grateful for you. Grateful for every smile you throw his way, every laugh you pull from him and allow him to draw from you, thankful for all the ways you’ve woven yourself into his life and made it better. And above all, grateful for your acceptance and love for him and all that he is, was, and ever will be. He needs to ask you if you will allow him the honour of spending the remainder of his days showing you his gratitude and loving you the way you deserve.
Din’s heart is overflowing and he has so much he wishes to express; he’s not entirely sure he’s going to be able to make any sense. But Din’s not nervous - the radiant smile on your beautiful face as he approaches already telling him everything he needs to know.
Real life Lisette!! 🥰🥰
Very last tag for this series!! Thank you all forever for your support 🥹😘
@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro
@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20
@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief
@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414
@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe
@bebsjo @yopossum @cartonkid1200 @rav3n-pascal22 @sjc7542
@xxx-silhouette-xxx @pedroswife69 @kilamonster @mandoshoney @joelalorian
@syd-djarin @moonlessnight14 @lucienofthelakes
#din djarin#modern!din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#din djarin x f!reader#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#modern au
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Hello! Thanks for responding! Before my little comparison attempt here’s a quick disclaimer that I am not saying Curly is innocent, nor excusing him of his inaction. The entire Mouthwashing fandom has been frequently debating Curly and how he is not free of blame (heck it’s almost every text post here) but I was confused to see Swansea put in the same boat as Daisuke and Anya, when I saw him in game to be in a similarly morally grey area as Curly. Though just so everyone knows I love all four of the Mouthwashing characters! (Jimmy can burn in hell-) I mostly want to see more Swansea debate because I love the nuance in his character - how he stays at arms length and seems untrustworthy throughout the game but is actually ready to sacrifice himself for Daisuke, a mirror image of how Anya mentions he secretly loves cake at the surprise party when his distant and gruff attitude make it seem like he doesn’t! I want to explore all of the characters deeper complexities with the same thoroughness the community has shown to be capable of and I’d love to spark more debate about the less considered aspects so imma see if I can mirror what you’ve pointed out about Swansea with what I can gather of Curly’s side of things to compare!
When Curly learns of Anya’s situation they are still over one hundred days of space travel into the middle of nowhere, so from the moment Jimmy did it there were no space police around for Anya to call on and nowhere for them to land (probably terrifying). All of the rooms lock from the inside, so there’s nowhere Curly could have imprisoned Jimmy, though he could have probably used that nylon rope to restrain him somehow (only seems extreme if you don’t know what Jim did) though, in the same way, after learning about it Swansea could have done any of these things. He can clearly physically overpower Jimmy and take the code scanner which is as simple to use as a torch, rendering him and his self-proclaimed captain role obsolete and decidedly doing more harm than good. As for the next point, of course I’d argue that Anya is not safe at any point but to specifically address the sleeping, Jimmy never sees Anya asleep in her bed (as far as I can find) and her bed is always perfectly made, either showing her to be a meticulous person or (what I find more likely since every detail exists for a reason in this game) she sleeps elsewhere (likely in the medical bay since she asked about it specifically having locks in the Dead Pixel scene) away from Jimmy, since I doubt Anya would feel comfortable enough to sleep a foot away from him willingly (she could have moved her bed anywhere in the lobby, hell Swansea’s on the other side of the room! So why are all the rest bunched up like that??). Onto the next point, Jimmy unofficially appoints himself captain - the code scanner is not thumb print operated and the gun would be hard to conceal, also Swansea could snap him like a twig (top ten AUs) Jimmy wouldn’t stand a chance without the gun, so I don’t think Swansea was in any was threatened by Jimmy nor respected Jimmy enough to think his input was worth the harm. Diasuke’s death is bloody tragic, he lost his life for bright eyed naivety and even pushed through the broken vent to open the door, though neither him nor Anya survived (god this game is so sad but also so meaningful), in the moment Swansea seems to have been shocked to his core, complete shutdown. He says “it’s over. End of the fuckin’ line” and tells Jimmy to knock himself out with the cryopod, as if Daisuke’s death chipped away the last of his will to live on. Then, as Jimmy leaves to “fix everything” and “save everyone” with the ultimate friendship saving power of A Gun, a switch flips to the manic setting in the narrative and suddenly Swansea is furiously charging at Jimbo with the axe, a switch I attribute to him having taken that minute to process what Daisuke said about the cocktail, figuring out that Jimmy had yet again managed to manipulate someone into sacrificing themself for him to fulfil his hero complex, effectively having murdered our precious intern.
The start of this next paragraph implies that you thought Swansea factored Anya into his reason to get violent? Throughout the game, Swansea never takes much notice of Anya, calling her a “so-called nurse” and only bringing up the fact that she told him about it because Jimmy accused him of scheming, talking to her being involved in his paranoid list of potentially suspicious things Swansea’s done. Additionally, there’s a large difference in how Swansea and Curly held their inaction on Anya’s sexual assault: Swansea, in the same conversation that she told him, declined helping her, being a self aware and brutally honest foil to Jimmy’s emotional manipulation and inability to take responsibility for his choices and actions. The conversation ends with Anya saying “if that’s how it has to be” while crying, (probably due to offloading such a horrific topic, not necessarily because of Swansea’s response but it would certainly perpetuate her despair) indicating that Swansea has decided not to take action - at least not under their current circumstances. While he may have thought about it, Swansea was clearly not motivated to action by Jimmy’s sexual assault on Anya, as she told him 2 whole months before he decides to axe the bastard. Curly’s approach was almost the opposite situation, Swansea’s being that he already had reasons to dislike Jim, had plenty of time but wasn’t motivated to take action against him just by hearing about the SA, instead Curly had a trust of some kind with Jimmy (though Jimmy has shown to be very capable and prone to emotional manipulation as he did with Daisuke and Anya) but only had two days to come up with a plan, one being spent panicking about Anya potentially hurting herself with a gun and the second spent being blown to smithereens. There is no evidence, as well, within these two days that Anya was still sleeping in her quarters. There’s every chance that after telling Curly this and asking about the medical bay locks she decided to sleep in their until the crash (perhaps even after), since every lock is manual and locks from the inside she wouldn’t need to tell anyone in order to sleep in there. I don’t know what you mean Curly “helped Jimmy” after Anya told him? The only events after the Dead Pixel scene and before the crash are Curly searching for the gun, having Jimmy trying to push the sexual assault blame onto Curly in true Jimbo fashion, Jimmy then telling him “I’ll take care of it” and then Curly finding out that “it” was not in fact the child support. Anyhoo this is getting to be a really long post so I’ll wait to add anymore just in case anyone has any questions, cheers for reading! Sorry if I misspelt anything!
Hot take: Curly is more innocent than Swansea.
Mouthwashing fandom, who have shown to consistently disagree with this, what have I missed that makes you all unanimously excuse Swansea but debate Curly?
In short: Prove me wrong
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Barred Protection Chapter Six!
Hey all, sorry this took a while. I also forgot to put this here when I was posting it on AO3, oops, but it's here now!
First Chapter
TW: overstimulation and its effects
How long had it been since the nice man had come in and held him? He wasn’t sure. Danny knew that he was only allowed to see this man when he couldn’t cry anymore. He missed the man so much.
Danny had started referring to him as Comfort in his head. Normally he knew he could make a better name but his whole head fuzzed intolerably when he tried to now.
Despite wanting to ask Comfort’s actual name, Danny’s hoarse voice never seemed loud enough anymore.
Danny wanted Comfort so badly that when a dark shape blocked most of his vision he instinctually went to lean into it. The shape pulled back for a quick second before Danny was being hoisted slightly higher in the air.
They were letting him down! Did this mean there was a new person that was going to make him feel better? But he hadn’t stopped crying.
Something green and blue was now in his vision as he was flipped around to laying on his back. The green thing got bigger, closer, before reaching out to his head. Calloused fingers pressed in between his eyes.
Hello, do you understand?
Danny jolted. That voice wasn’t warbled and watery. It was clear as if it were in his head. He tried to respond but nothing came from his mouth.
I am J’ohn. We are here to rescue you.
Images flashed of a facility being broken into by a bunch of costumed people. They looked so familiar it made him ache. J’ohn was very patient, holding the image for as long as Danny needed. Danny keened as he tried to recognize who had him but he simply couldn’t.
Do you know the Justice League?
Did he? Danny didn’t know. He felt he should know but nothing was familiar to him about the images and names that the green guy was sending him. The green guy seemed to give up.
Can you tell us your name? Where you’re from?
Danny tried; he got his name but where he was from? His head fogged out at the force of trying to remember. Maybe if he thought of people he knew? His parents were indistinguishable blobs of color. His sister, he had a sister, she was…she…
He was so tired. Thinking was so tiring.
There was a moment where concern washed over him and then the fingers on his forehead were gone. Danny nuzzled into whoever had ahold of him. It would be okay to sleep for a bit, right? They…the justice…?
League, the Justice League. Right. They wouldn’t mind if he took a small nap…right?
He slipped into nothingness as someone carded their hands through his hair.
---
Daelus stared in horror as rings enveloped Subject P, revealing a young boy with black hair instead of the entity he had grown to know.
This wasn’t right. He was promised that whatever he had bought wasn’t human. But the being in front of him was very human.
It had to be a trick, something Subject P was doing to garner more sympathy from the Justice League.
Daelus had done extensive work to ensure that he wouldn’t harm a person in his company. He gave employees full benefits and wages almost higher than the company could afford at first. He had paid sick days, paid holidays, paid mental health days: all because he wanted to best for the people working under him.
He hadn’t missed a single thing regarding helping others, he couldn’t have.
Subject P even got the best care he could offer without sacrificing work flow. The subject was fed high end food, muscles stretched regularly to avoid atrophie and stiffness, they even went so far as to brush the being’s teeth twice a day!
The being that was currently curling in on batman just like…
…like a child.
A human child.
He had been using a child for medicines. He’d- God he’d tortured a child.
All at once the feeling in his legs went out. Wonder Woman had good reflexes, thank goodness, or his face would have smashed into the floor. Daelus watched the boy nuzzle into Batman’s chest. A sickening churning in his gut started. He quickly turned away before it could get overwhelming.
“Come on.” Wonder Woman yanked him to his feet again before escorting him from his own facility and into a police transport.
Daelus didn’t do much more than stare blankly at the floor as the door shut behind him. All he had wanted was to help people, to fix the ailments that never seemed to end.
The attempts to ensure he didn’t buy a meta had failed spectacularly. His stomach started churning again. No wonder the being had taken the shape of a young child, it-he-WAS a young child.
The boy’s face stayed at the front of his mind. He crushed his eyes shut. “What have I done…?”
---
The boy was safely in the watch tower medbay. Daelus had plead guilty on all charges, not even putting up much of a fight. Batman was suspicious of that, but the boy was his top priority, especially with how little information J’ohn was able to pull from his mind.
J’ohn had said that the boy’s mind was similar to a static filled television screen. A few things popped in here and there but never a clear enough picture. The only thing he got from the boy was his name.
The room was dimly lit, the sound so silent it pressed in on your eardrums. J’ohn had insisted there be as little stimulus as possible to help Danny recover.
Severe overstimulation. That’s what the medical team had said. Danny had been subjected to a near constant stream of overstimulation in order to be used as he had been. Batman pursed his lips at the memory of that horrible room. Screams echoed in his mind.
What kind of man just showed a young child constant images of people being harmed and killed? What sick mind had come up with that?
Dealus had seemed dangerous, but not to the degree he had been revealed as.
A grunt broke the silence as Batman mulled over how the news was going to handle this story. A meta child being used to synthesize the medicine that so many people were depending on.
And with those people depending on it, often times to survive, what would happen now that the truth was out? Ameliorate couldn’t sell medicine after this. There would be a scandal for sure; one that could and probably would end up tearing the country- maybe even the world- apart with debates of ethics vs human lives.
There wasn’t going to be a clear cut answer. No path that would make everyone happy. He hated these situations more than anything.
A soft sigh pulled him from his thoughts. Danny was…interesting. The boy was switching between his forms seemingly at random and had been ever since they got him out. He had been sleeping almost the entire time but when he did wake he became increasingly panicked if not accompanied by someone.
Flash had, at one point, brought up that he heard Danny muttering for ‘comfort’, as though it were a proper noun and not a feeling. This worried Batman.
Worried he may have been, there wasn’t much he could do to help the boy. A facial search had come up with nothing and just the name ‘Danny’ would leave him with thousands of people to sift through.
Batman looked away from Danny as he heard the door hiss open. J’ohn nodded a greeting before stepping up to Danny’s side.
For the past week he had been trying to sooth Danny’s mind with his own powers. They couldn’t tell if it was helping anything but it was shown not to hurt so the medical staff didn’t stop him from trying.
Batman stayed for the thirty minutes it took for J’ohn to give up for the day. There was no change from Danny, but he hadn’t expected one.
J’ohn sat in the chair opposite of the one Batman was in. “Have you found any signs of where Daelus acquired Danny?”
He let out a grunt. The martian nodded before getting situated to take over companion duties.
As Batman stalked the halls he pursed his lips again. There wasn’t any record in Daelus’s files about how he obtained ‘Subject P’ but there was plenty of records of his care and needs.
In an odd way it was as if Daelus had wanted the best care for the boy despite the state Danny was in. He let out another grunt. It looked like if he needed information, he was going to have to get it from Daelus himself.
---
Clockwork smiled to himself as he watched his looking glass. Everything was as it should be again, the League in the right direction to get Danny more help than they could provide. It would be quite some time before he saw young Daniel again but the time spent healing would not be a loss to him.
Yes, even Frostbite would soon be soothed in his worries.
Everything was going the way it should.
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To hunt or be hunted
Alastor x reader x Lucifer
Chapter 4: Warnings: Sexual tension.
(Image taken from Pinterest.)
One year left. You reminded yourself while watching the black snake tattoo that slowly made its way up your arm, soon it would reach your heart and all would be over.
“Ten years, you work for me at my Hotel, and if I can’t manage to convince you to find something good to do with yourself, I’ll set you free” Charlie’s voice resonated in your head, it made no sense, but the true meaning of the deal was that if she could manage to help you find a reason to continue living, you would have a permanent home at the hotel.
If she couldn’t, you would have your soul back, and then the snake takes care of ending your suffering.
A swarming of feelings and thoughts came from thinking about the countdown, “It’s probably the best” who was going to miss you anyways? No one did back at the living world, your daughter died postpartum, your husband died because of his sins, most of your friends at the time left overseas looking for a better life, and there was no family left to mourn you.
Still isn’t.
Your father and your husband were most likely around in hell somewhere, in a hundred years you haven’t bothered to check, probably ended up repeating the same pattern: Gambling, debts, death.
May was a dreadful month, Mother’s day, your daughter’s birth and death anniversary, and just by the end of it, your birthday. Turning 40 is bad, but imagine turning 140 years old, that is worse.
You died at 35 years old in the 1920’s, since that to now it’s been 104 years, plus your age at the time 139, now turning 140. “It’s a blessing that I stayed looking the age I died in, otherwise I would be looking worse” you outlined your hips with your hands while straightening the leather straps around your waist.
‘Y/n, can you come to the parlor please?’ you heard Charlie speak through. You immediately knew what was going to happen, given that it was nine am sharp, and you weren’t summoned to make breakfast.
She either told them, or Angel was going to be fried alive.
Just as you guessed, there was Charlie in front of the fireplace, as the rest, except Alastor, looked rather hurt and shocked, especially Lucifer and Vaggie.
“You called?” The smoke cleared, making yourself appear sitting on the couch next to Charlie. A gasp found its way out of Vaggie’s throat before anyone could say anything. The angel collected her thoughts and then she was able to speak.
“Charlie, what the fuck is the AXE-MAN DOING IN THE HOTEL!” Vaggie didn’t doubt a second to stand before her with the spear pointing at you, “She’s the chef of the Hotel” Charlie smiled weakly, trying her best to stay collected. “Since when?” the feline bartender asked, not minding your presence very much.
“Before it started actually, eight years ago?” she turned to you for confirmation, which you nodded affirmatively. “And you hid this, because…?” Angel’s turn to ask. Charlie was in shambles trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t raise more questions, but failed, so you interceded.
“We made a deal; we don’t need to disclose the details, but it made her feel guilty” she shot you an unamused look before turning to her partner, her hand softly tracing the outline of her cheek.
“How come you got angry at me for lying to you, but you keep this kind of secret, honey?” seeing Charlie look as trapped as you were amused you, however for the sake of ending the fallen angel’s ranting, you intervened.
“Hey now, whether she wanted to tell you or not it’s her business, but you hid the fact that you are an angel, worse than that a murderer, and no better than us sinners, so don’t act all hurt because now you two are even” your eyes lit up as the staring began to feel more lie a threat towards the fallen angel.
“You knew?” she diminished the distance between her spear and your neck, not earning a single flinch on your part, “One piece of advice, your golden blood leaves a trail, and the stench is very specific, those like me that are used to blood can tell the difference” Alastor nodded in agreement.
“Why didn’t you tell me” Charlie sounded suspicions not hurt, to no one’s surprise really, “Last thing I knew I was a chef, not the gossip press” you took a look back to Vaggie, using a finger to lower the spear with zero effort, “Besides, wasn’t my secret to disclose” you winked an eye.
“Wait hold on, what makes the Axe-man want to work in a place for redemption?” Lucifer questioned, now more relaxed, he was all and hellfire before thinking you had taken her daughter’s soul. “She’s kind of…” her eyes were looking to you for help, “I made her a promise, we fought and came to an agreement” you aided a response, one that was good enough for her not to worry.
Everyone turned to you, “I’m not ashamed of it, I got my ass kicked by miss sunshine here, lost my soul in the process and now I’m the chef” all except you and Charlie laughed, tearing up a little too.
“Charlie doesn’t own a soul, don’t be stupid, she’s lying right, Charlie?” Lucifer watched his darling, perfect daughter image crumble when all she could respond to was a quiet shameful nod.
“YOU own a soul?” The shock was understandable. Possessing souls was not unusual, even lower-ranking demons could do it. The fact was that it was the good-natured princess who wanted to redeem demons. It was too much for Lucifer, he flopped beside you, brushing his hair back.
“Before you all judge her, I was stupid enough to challenge her when Lilith had just left, she was in a very dark place, my timing was terrible” you laughed, making your injuries pang on every fiber and string of muscle in response.
“How dark?” the king whispered your way, “I was her punching bag, even after our fight” he muttered a ‘shit’ both impressed and somewhat feeling guilty. They both had similar eyes when it came to pain.
“The infamous Axe-Man of New Orleans, I presume” Alastor came forward, grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Oh, how unfortunate” he knew your name from above, so he lived around or in New Orleans.
“Why would you say that? You made an entire state fear your ax, for years there was nothing but jazz playing in the streets at night, and what’s best, you were never identified nor caught” he pulled you from your seat, hitting his chest, his staff disappearing to leave his hand free to sneak behind your back, keeping you in place.
“Well, I’m not that person anymore” Alastor drank in your scent, the sweetness burning its way down his lungs.
Every fiber, every hair on his body, told Alastor to run. Animal instinct, a deer in the jaws of a lion, a prey in front of a carnivore. Maybe because of the post-battle adrenaline he didn't feel the same instinct when you helped him. What will you feel with him so close? hunger? anger? lust? Curiosity ate him alive, he wanted to know what was telling you your instinct, how would it feel to be eaten by you.
“What made you bury the hatchet?” Angel’s pun made you smile, “Alastor” still in his arm, you felt him shift. “When you made yourself…present in hell, young, power hungry and all that, something inside me just told me that it was time to stop” ‘or else it was going to end with blood’ you thought.
“Also before all this, I had heard about the cannibalistic murderer” you were aware of his aberration to touch, but given his closeness, you had no choice. Both of your hands settled on his hips, mostly for leverage, but also to see how he would react to you.
“What an honor, I must say your performance inspired mine” his smile twitched, especially after feeling your warmth though his coat.
“You’re insulting me, Radio demon” his chest tightened, a growl emanated from your throat, subtle but it made Alastor’s mind cloud a little. Focusing on your dilated pupils at all times to read any sign of warning, he saw nothing, no emotion whatsoever.
“Your act was sloppy, careless. The victim that became the executioner of his aggressors, tell me, do you feel better?” He didn’t understand what you were implying, once he tasted human meat he just couldn’t stop. He never asked himself if he was content, or if the blood made him feel better.
“You only targeted Italian mobsters; I’d say that’s rather sloppy” that’s all he could think, “And yet I didn’t allow myself to be shot in the head” there was a weird aura surrounding you and him.
The situation was charming, two assassins of excellence, powerful Overlords with influence and stigma. Despite their sins, they were beautiful beings full of life and grace. Lucifer couldn't help but feel a tingle on his back watching such a scene. It seemed like they were going to devour each other, and relish in it.
“Disappointed?” your fangs shined with the firelight. “A little” he answered, expecting you to be more sanguinary, just as you used to be. “I’ll make Jambalaya today if that makes you feel better” but no matter what he did, while frozen in place, like a deer in headlights, you couldn’t make him feel less excited, less alive.
“Thank you chérie, what about my work as of late?” reluctantly he let go of you, taking both of your hands in his. Yearning to make you either praise him, or crush his head under your heel.
“Very entertaining” he has a very slim waist, and yet it felt strong under your fingertips, warm. He has his hands and forearm blackened, just as his legs must be. You wondered if the rest of his skin must be of that beautiful cream color. Of course, his chest wasn’t bald, like you he has a thin layer of short and soft fur.
“Ugh, get a room” Lucifer broke the moment, making Alastor’s eyes turn into the demonic radio stare you knew so well, “Funny I didn’t think such a tiny person could have a massive mouth” he then stepped away. Was it normal to be cold? Your body missed his closeness.
“Here he goes again, how about you help me with breakfast munch-king?” Lucifer felt his jacket being pulled off the couch, dragged by it towards the door that led to the hallway to the kitchen, “Did you seriously called me that?” he allowed that, with a smirk he gave Alastor the finger.
“Want me to sing the song too?” you warned with a smile, “You wouldn’t dare-” your arm hugged his small frame into your side as you started to mock him, “Ding Dong the witch is dead!” you started, dragging the king down the hallway, “STOOP!” That was the last thing the crew heard before the door closed behind you.
In the kitchen, Lucifer wandered around, staying a few steps from you. Not because he needed it, but to not seem invasive.
“So, you challenged my daughter?” you hummed a yes, “She took the split a bit bad, huh?” in the corner of your eye you could see him sit on the kitchen island, just a few inches from where his daughter had hurt her hand.
“I’ll send you my medical bill” your sarcasm made him laugh a little, “You don’t look like you belong in the sin of pride, yours must be wrath, isn’t it?” Do demons look according to their sins? You didn’t know, “You tell me, I have yet to allow myself to ponder over what I have done”.
“I think I didn’t introduce myself, please forgive me” you left the kettle under the fire and walked over to him, “My name is Y/n” you extended your hand to him, he took it with a smile. “Lucifer Morningstar, you may call me however it pleases you” his touch was gentle, but firm, you could feel his pulse though his gloves.
A thought tickled your brain, “In that case, would you like sugar or honey in your tea, Samael?” his eyes shifted, his horns grew. Like wood, like wood, his gaze was the same as his daughter's, and yet they harbored both hatred and sadness, both as deep as an abyss.
It shot an intense wave of electricity up your spine. You stood in front of the biggest predator in all of hell.
“Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you” he hadn’t let go of your hand, nor squeezed it, “I apologize, my king” your free hand caressed over the fabric.
He pouted, still not letting go of your hand. “If you let me touch your ears, I may forgive you” he turned back, you caught the sight of his tail slithering inside his pants.
“Sure, but please don’t get too close to the inside, my instincts are very strong and unforgiving, I would hate to have your blood on my uniform” You couldn't even finish speaking when he pulled your hand, immediately starting to touch the fur surrounding your ears. His knees settled on either side of your hips, taking advantage of the extra height the furniture provided.
“So soft, it’s so weird, a lion sinner” he was pensative, “Usually it’s a loyal, brave and true creature, heaven material” the sensation made your heart flutter. You felt like a dog, which made your ego bruise up a little, but at the same time his hands were warm and gentle. So gentle, you noticed he took your advice and avoided the areas you mentioned.
“Anyways, you’re forgiven, again, you’re very soft” Another cold feeling due to loss of touch, how annoying. You swallowed a lump of saliva before you could speak again, “Thank you, I take care of myself”.
“Oh and the note, thanks, it hasn’t been easy” he didn’t eased the pressure on your hips, “Marriage ain’t easy, and being apart after thousand years of history must be rough” it’s not like the closeness bothered you, but it grant him a cocky smile and a sense of power over you, that feeling brought back the feeling of looking like a dog.
“I just…I wish I could make it up to Charlie” his hands grabbed one of yours, fidgeting with your fingers and the palm. “If it makes you feel more at ease, the sole fact that you’re here partially does more than enough” the light in his eyes lasted a few seconds, it was a lovely sight.
“Partially?” worried? Understatement. “If I say it you can’t hit me or anything” he made an X over his heart, then his hand went back to yours.
“She lied to you and you just went along with it? Parenting 101, mutual respect: she doesn’t lie and you don’t either” he applied a light pressure to your hand pads, making your claws come out and retract, that seemed to amuse him.
“So I have to…ground her?” his golden gaze went up to your eyes, but you were far too concentrated in his movements. “Well not now, but maybe speaking with her about it might be the right course of action”.
Melancholy, he had a feeling so he went for it.
“You were a parent?” he was right, your pained expression lasted a second but it was enough for him to feel a pang on his side. “For a day and a few hours” your eyes darkened, as if they were lost in thought. The warmth of his hand on your cheek and a soft ‘My condolences’ brought you back.
“I just know appropriate parenting by taking my parent’s example and do the opposite” you masked your pain with a smile and a smart remark, just like him, “Yeah, me too” his response made you scoff, “Where would you’ve sent you daughter for this kind of idea, Heaven?”.
Laughter filled the room. He wouldn’t do such a thing, nothing Charlie did would make Lucifer banish her anywhere, much less punish her like that for trying to help others.
“I had a different perspective of you” your tail stiffened around your leg, “What, a soulless maniac killer and nothing more?” you used to be like that. He laughed, “I mean, soulless indeed” you ruffled the hair that fell on his forehead, “But I’m glad I was wrong, thank you for taking care of my daughter, I see she trusts you a lot” you wouldn’t call it trust, nor she relied on you much.
Now that you think about it, taking care of her was instinctive, “I just grew used to her this past eight years” he smiled, “Thank you” he sensed the shift in you, the situation tensed up very quickly.
“Don’t, and just to be fully open about it, you were the target” you would never show your fangs to anyone, looking like an animal doesn’t give you the right to act like one.
“Wait really?” his lips twitched, almost smiling. “I thought if I bruised up your daughter you would appear, but you saw how that ended” he hummed, rather amused. Your intimidation did nothing to him.
“Are you strong enough?” he questioned it? It felt insulting, “Are you offering?” you looked at him up and down, not a trace of malice. “I mean if that’s what you wanted” he was willing to fight with you? “Nah I knew I wasn’t strong enough, it’s no different now. I just wanted to pass into history as a crazy bitch who died at the hands of the devil”.
‘I’m oversharing, shut up’ you took a deep breath, adjusting yourself in between his legs, “I see” his breath hit your skin, “Now I just do this, and I’m fine with it”.
“I’d say, you’re terrific in the kitchen, no matter if it’s a served cold or hot type of dish, you always make it taste like home” your ears flattened against your head. “Thank you” he then looked up from your hand once again, a tender pink hue adorned your cheeks.
“Anyways” you needed to get rid of his touch, it was just enough to take a few steps backwards, away from the overwhelming warmth for the cold to embrace you again. “I have to make breakfast, and I just pulled you away because your constant fights with Alastor has gotten old very quick” you walked away, taking your white apron off the hanger, then tied a lovely bow on your back with the laces.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, see you later then” was that disappointment you heard? You didn’t know, and couldn’t care as long as your body remained trying to shake off the excessive heat, and the phantom of his touch still lingering. “Fuck” thinking about it made you cut your finger with a knife.
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#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#radio demon#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel fanart#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel lucifer
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i know i already made a post about this today, but i’m being serious when i’m saying that y’all should start providing alt/plain text and other accessibilities on your posts. this is coming from someone who personally has genuine issues reading colored texts, varied font types and sizes, typing quirks, and images with text. i understand that you may have a specific aesthetic, but that should not be prioritized over making our alterhuman community on tumblr accessible for everyone. it doesn’t have to be difficult and complex, just copy and paste everything and then set it to the original text settings. you can even put it under a cut so it doesn’t disrupt the aesthetic of your posts. and while we’re at the topic, image ids (or descriptions under “alt”!), gif warnings (especially for fast gifs), and eyestrain warnings are also some more simple things that could just be put in posts/tags to make our community more accessible for all alterhumans. and when i’m talking about alt/plain texts, i am including when you wish to make jokes. it’s upsetting when others make jokes and i’m left out because i struggle to read to the joke in the first place. i want to be able to be in on things in the community, but it’s really hard to do it because of the lack of alt text and plain text. again, understand thinking it’s pretty or thinking it looks nice but i’m also asking you to please consider making it accessible for those who have trouble reading things like this. i know it’s hard to change things about such a large community, but i’ve seen it happen before so i feel like we could try and do something like it again.
i’m especially putting this for double if you use a dni banner or do not use plain text (not censored unless it is in a way that can still be easily deciphered by either eyes or a screen reader). if i cannot read your banner, i do not know if i can interact or not, defeating the whole purpose of a dni.
lastly, if you are using colored text, me and other alterhumans that have struggles with reading that would likely appreciate if you put the tag “#colored text” on the posts using it so we can having a warning beforehand. this way, we don’t have to filter out your username or block you because both feel incredibly disrespectful to do (at least imo).
i as of right now cannot think of anything else to say, but i am open to speak about this if you do so civilly.
-purple (i’m not sure if this is actually me who wrote this, and various headmates may also show up to discuss things if anyone would like to discuss it)
#therian#alterhuman#otherkin#fictionkin#fictionfolk#nonhuman#physical nonhuman#physically nonhuman#holothere#<-the tags i’m specifically talking about and to in this post#endo safe
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This is an absolute masterpiece. I'm actually past capitals, and back to lowercase, I am in such awe. This is one of those things I wish I'd written, it's so gorgeous, so artfully written, the imagery is so beautiful, and you made a blowjob seem like poetry, absolutely astounding??
Okay I have many quotes (I actually copied over 30, it must have been your entire fic, so I've heavily edited down to my absolute favourite bits)
“A messenger of the Valar. A being of pure light, sent to unlock his grandest abilities.” You turn around in his arms, and wrap yours around his neck, grinning. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Celebrimbor quite so close to spending in his breeches before.”
Poor Brimby, I mean, who wouldn't when faced with Annatar appearing out of the smoke 😂 he got me good, never mind anyone actually standing close to him 😂
“Not even the Maker himself is above admiring true beauty,” he says, lifting your chin with a gentle knuckle as his thumb brushes your bottom lip. “And you, my lady, are the most exquisite of his creations.”
The way I would die??? The way I did die just reading this??
The most skilled of Elven artists could not capture the exquisite painting which graces your roving eyes. ‘Perfect’ doesn’t begin to describe him—not that you ever regard him as anything less. But in this specific form, he is the very picture of Elven beauty and grace, likely to enchant the eye of most, if not all beings of your kind.
Oh lord oh my god he is gorgeous and the picture you paint of him is sublime, I'm in love??
He is much smoother than Halbrand was. The hair on his body is less evident, as light in color as the blond tresses framing his face and not as coarse to the touch, you determine whilst trailing your fingers down his arm, shoulder to wrist. He is no doubt appealing, but you had been quite fond of the dark smattering of hair on Halbrand’s chest, and will surely miss the equally dark trail leading the tantalizing way between his navel and cock.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE WAY I DIED
Halbrand my beloved, your chest hair is immortal and beyond compare
You look up at your husband, standing above you in all his glory, the light of candles catching in his fair tresses in an ethereal halo. Yet most disarming are the pitch black depths of his eyes, trained onto you with devastating intensity.
What an absolutely gorgeous juxtaposition, I love this image so much!!!
“Well, my lady?” His tongue curls around the respectful title in such a way, it somehow sounds degrading. He tilts your chin even further back with a firm knuckle. “How is it that you worship your gods?”
I yelled!! Yes we love both, let him do both, worship and degrade us, why am I so feral for this??
You are free to surrender yourself to him, and few things make you feel so powerful as his craving to be adored by you.
Hell yes hell yes hell yes it's the craving for me!!! He loves the attention, needs her like air, godddd it's perfect
“I have one god, and one alone,” you murmur, holding his gaze as you embrace his legs, clinging to the flesh just below his buttocks and striving to look up despite the angle at which you then bend. “I kneel only to him,” you lay a kiss above one knee, “I worship only at his feet,” then the other. “I would kill for him,” you kiss him mid-thigh on one leg, “I would die for him,” then the other. “I would live,” you place a kiss right to the side of his cock, “through endless torment,” as well as the other side, “only for him.” You rise on your knees slightly, and press your lips below his navel, pleading with your eyes. For what, it matters not. For anything he might give.
Holy mother of divine sweet jesus, I cannot tell you how much I love this, I died, I was reborn, I died again
The growl which leaves your husband’s throat is more wild beast than Elf. [...] He wants in.
“Show me,” he commands, his tip nudging at your quivering lips. “Show me how you adore me.”
I YELLED
Bestial Sauron, losing his damn mind, "show me how much you adore me", I am so feral for this adoring husband you write so well, he is sublime
You wish he would reward your efforts with the groans and gasps you know he keeps lodged within his throat. You want to rip them out with your teeth, if need be.
YASSSSSSSSS
“Such beauty,” he muses gruffly, catching your tear with a gentle thumb even as he keeps thrusting. “Such ruin.”
God this is gorgeous, "such ruin"???? He loves it, she loves it, they're both so unwell for each other, you can feel just how perfect they are for each other with each tiny look, action, piece of dialogue 🙌👌🤌👏
His mind nudges at yours, such a stark contrast between the immaterial caress and his ruthless handling of you. The answer he seeks is written in your eyes, your mind, the same message ringing out over and over from every corner of your being: Grip me, keep me, ruin me. Spill in my mouth. Fill it with your taste. Give me everything.
THIS
THIS ENDED ME, I AM ACTUALLY DEAD NOW
He looks for her consent and finds nothing wanting, she's right there with him, and the contrast between his roughness and gentleness is sending me
“My love,” he breathes out, the lust in his gaze having melted into something akin to awe. “Oh, my love. How desperately you crave my pleasure.” His chest begins to heave, eyes growing feral with fresh hunger. “As I crave yours.”
🙌👌🤌👏🙌👌🤌👏🙌👌🤌👏
Even in the heat of your smuttiest scenes, there is such gorgeous emotion, idk how you do it, sublime
Oh, the audacious little arse of a Maia (whom you would not have any other way).
Pfffffft the way I cackled, he really is 😂😂😂
And what a wonderous view indeed. From here, he is laid out below you like a grand feast, offering to the pleasure of your eye every little twitch of the muscles in his neck and abdomen as you give his length a few preparatory pumps. His hair is splayed out on your pillow in fair waves, like the halo of the divine being he now claims to be. You can nearly see why Morgoth had so wished to corrupt him, when he truly was a being of pure light. Though in Morgoth’s place, you would never have been so foolish as to fail in cherishing Mairon’s loyalty like the most precious gift that it was. In Morgoth’s place, you’d have punished your beloved servant with nothing but the most wicked of pleasures, and rewarded his terrible feats in your name with a throne beside yours and a crown placed upon his splendid head.
This whole paragraph is sublime, what a feast indeed, the image of him is so beautiful, and imagining herself in Morgoth's place?? he deserves to be rewarded, let's reward him 😍🥵
“Good.” Your husband’s smile drips with pride. “I made it for you.”
It takes a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. He has made this form, having fully recovered his ability to deliberately choose the shape and size of each part of himself, and—
“Oh,” you let out, your face crumpling with adoration as you melt on the inside. “You’ve gone through such trouble…”
SHUT UP I LOVE IT, OF COURSE HE MADE HIMSRLF IN AN IMAGE SHE WOULD ADORE, HIS FLESH TO FIT HERS, I AM DYING
“No trouble at all, my love,” he says, hands roaming over your thighs. “I made each part of myself to suit my purpose. I desire no offspring, and have no bodily needs apart from those awakened by my wife. So, you see, the sole purpose of my cock... is to pleasure you. Us.” He brings your hand to his lips, the kiss he presses to your knuckles as reverent as though he were greeting you in the midst of an elegant ballroom rather than naked in your bed, buried inside you to the hilt. “I worship only at the feet of my goddess as well.”
Um okay????? Fuck I'm running out of new things to say but I need you to know how much I adored this whole section, they're so mad for each other my heart hurts
“All the heart I have left is yours,” he says in a ragged breath, nails digging into your shoulderblades. “Yours, always yours.”
Fuck me??? "All the heart I have left is yours"???? Amazing, stunning, breathtaking
...as though you mean to cage him within you for the rest of all time, and what a tempting prospect that is.
THE TEMPTATION YES PLEASE
“I was ill,” you murmur suddenly, cheek still pressed to his heart. [...]
This whole next section where she describes her fantasy/illusion/dream, which I love btw, like her brain has to fill in the gap he's left to stay remotely sane, anyway the whole thing was so beautifully written it hurt my heart, but the end where she tells him it was wrong, it felt so right. Of course this isn't their love story, they were forged in flames and darkness and this fairytale doesn't suit them (I love it anyway idc)
It's like "in another life I'd have been happy to do laundry with you" but this is where they were meant to be and they relish in it.
“But I would have delighted in wearing something as simple as a bracelet made of grassblades, had I known them to have been entwined by your hands."
I have a very special fondness for this line, he doesn't need his forge to make her beautiful things, and she doesn't need the finest jewels from him to want to wear them, my heart!!!!
“I was not as you described, indeed,” he murmurs in the end. “Even with my original... disposition, I’d not have hesitated to make my desire known, should I have had any such inclinations towards another. I have always hated a waste of good resources—time is no exception.”
YES KING GO CLAIM YOUR QUEEN IN ANY TIMELINE HELL YEAAAH
“...whether you were to return in a day or a century. Or several,” you add quietly, holding onto your husband just that little bit tighter. His forehead creases with the same deep ache in your chest as he nudges your nose with his.
Ooooof it's the yearning for me!!! The separation doing nothing but bringing them closer together!!
“I’d have made my desire for you known,” he repeats his earlier words in your ear, hushed but fervent, “and I’d never have bowed before Morgoth. For no promise of power could have swayed me to risk your safety. And we’d have stayed servants of the Valar, pure and obedient. It is only as we are now, my love, that we shall be masters of our own fate, and rule above all others.”
YESSSSSSS ALL THE POWER IN THE WORLD BUT HER SAFETY WOULD BE PARAMOUNT, YESSSSS
As you drift to sleep, you swear your husband’s caress holds the ghost of a tender petal brushing your skin.
Oh my lord this did me in, absolutely sublime, yes queen give us everything 👏🤌👌🙌
Danielle I am in awe, this was amazing, your best yet for sure 💜💜💜
As we are now (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)
-> in which you explore your husband’s new form, and it leads to you breaching a rather delicate subject
Warnings: evil!reader, smut, oral (Sauron receiving, he gets rough but reader is completely on board with it), p in v, dom!Sauron but it’s kind of back and forth, reader and Sauron being deep in denial about their desire for a bit of normalcy
Note: part of the evil!reader collection. If you’re new, reader has been married to Sauron since before Adar’s betrayal and infiltrated herself as a smith of Eregion, where she awaited her husband’s return.
Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!
You burst into delighted laughter the moment you are in the privacy of your own chamber. The light, the smoke, the speech, the look—be still your black little heart and your poor loins, the look.
It was a good thing you had worked as closely as you did with Celebrimbor and so-called Halbrand before your husband had been forced to leave Eregion, for the Elven Rings were in great part your achievement as well, and so Celebrimbor had deemed that you had just as much right to learn what had become of them upon Halbrand’s return. It was also a good thing you were standing behind Celebrimbor, and that he was entirely enraptured with your husband’s divine appearance as ‘Annatar’ made his grand entrance, because the hand with which you had covered your grin could hardly conceal the shameless glee in your eyes.
To see his deceit at work is always a joy. But even greater is the delight of knowing he shall join you in your chamber shortly, just as soon as he is finished entertaining the awe-struck Celebrimbor for the night. You stand at your window, hoping your wait will not be long. You haven’t had the chance to be alone with your husband since he had returned to Eregion, and somehow the last moments before the promise of reunion always feel like the longest.
He moves within the shadows, as quietly as them. You do not need to hear the opening and closing or your door, or even the steps approaching you, to know that he is there, even before arms snake around your waist from behind and lips press to your neck. You chuckle, leaning into your husband.
“A messenger of the Valar. A being of pure light, sent to unlock his grandest abilities.” You turn around in his arms, and wrap yours around his neck, grinning. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Celebrimbor quite so close to spending in his breeches before.”
“How crudely you speak of your dear friend,” your husband pretends to admonish, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Can you fault a poor Elf for falling to his knees in the face of his greatest desires coming true?”
“Fault him? Of course not.” You lower your voice to a sensual purr, leaning in so that your breath warms his lips as you speak. “In fact, if I were him, I’d have done far more than kneel.” You shrug. “Or tried, at the very least. Surely, an emissary of the Valar is above such worldly temptations.”
His lips are only a moment too slow to catch your teasing ones. You nimbly slip from his hold and walk past him—to no destination whatsoever, for you know you are to be caught nearly at once and relish the short anticipation. You still give a small yelp when he catches your wrist and spins you around, pulling you flush against him. There’s hunger in his eyes, and playfulness, as he secures your waist into a hold not so easily escapable as the last.
“Not even the Maker himself is above admiring true beauty,” he says, lifting your chin with a gentle knuckle as his thumb brushes your bottom lip. “And you, my lady, are the most exquisite of his creations.”
He can pay you a thousand compliments, and you would still swoon each and every time. On the inside, at the very least, for at the moment you simply remove his hand from your mouth.
“Is that all you wish? To admire me?” you tease still, ignoring the impatient tick in your husband’s jaw. “It would be such a pity if the Lord of Gifts did not receive some form of gratitude in return for the blessings he carries. Does one as pure as you even know of what I speak?”
You hold his gaze as you catch the tip of his thumb between your teeth, giving the pad the lightest lick. Your husband’s throat bobs as he watches.
“Do enlighten me,” he rasps out.
And you fully intend to. His lips are so plump and tempting, close enough that you can all but taste them. You haven’t kissed your husband since before he left for Adar’s camp in Mordor, an obscenely long amount of time already.
“With pleasure,” you whisper—close, so close to giving you both the meeting of lips you so crave...
Not quite.
You push his chest, just enough for him to let you take a step backward with a frustrated little breath. His eyes hold a glint of warning, hunger that might just surface to end your little game if you push it a smidge too far over the edge. But in the end, you like to play, and he likes to indulge you. And it isn’t as though you are dallying about as you slide his outer robe off his shoulders and down his arms. In fact, you are quite unceremoniously hasty, and so your husband straightens his arms by his sides, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a graceless heap around his feet.
Now, for the grey robe beneath, covering him from neck to ankle, humbly adorned with only a simple pattern along the collar... you could, in theory, remove it the old-fashioned way. But you don’t feel particularly inclined to go through the hassle of lifting all that material over his head, and something wild is stirring in your chest, and it’s in your nature, after all, to do things just because.
You produce a dagger from a concealed pocket of your dress, grab your husband’s collar, hook the blade into it and rip! goes the dull fabric with a yank of your hand. Down to his waist the destruction continues, tear after tear as you pull the material away from his body so as not to nick the skin you so greedily reveal with the slashes of your blade.
He does not flinch once, save for a coy lift at the corner of his lips as you toss away the dagger and relieve him of the ruined garb, adding it to the pile of crumpled fabric on the floor. You pay it no more mind than you do his now bare torso, determined to admire him in all his splendor when you finally take him in, head to toe.
“You speak of giving something in return,” he remarks quite casually as your hands next reach straight for the fastenings of his trousers, “yet all you seem to do is take—the very clothes off my back, no less.”
You smirk up at him. “Well, I should like to lay my eyes upon the gift for which I am to repay you first.”
You pull his trousers down in one quick move, proudly stripping him of the last shred of divine decency with which he had clad himself for Celebrimbor’s benefit. He cooperates smoothly as you crouch to yank the pants off his legs one by one, then toss his modest footwear to the side as well, and when you rise back to your full height, your husband stands before you with not a stitch on him.
The most skilled of Elven artists could not capture the exquisite painting which graces your roving eyes. ‘Perfect’ doesn’t begin to describe him—not that you ever regard him as anything less. But in this specific form, he is the very picture of Elven beauty and grace, likely to enchant the eye of most, if not all beings of your kind.
He is much smoother than Halbrand was. The hair on his body is less evident, as light in color as the blond tresses framing his face and not as coarse to the touch, you determine whilst trailing your fingers down his arm, shoulder to wrist. He is no doubt appealing, but you had been quite fond of the dark smattering of hair on Halbrand’s chest, and will surely miss the equally dark trail leading the tantalizing way between his navel and cock.
Speaking of which—that part of him is as glorious as ever, and already quite visibly eager. It would require but a graze of your fingers to grow into his full hardness. But you purposefully avoid that particular bit of enticing flesh as your fingers next trace a delicate line up his thigh, taking a detour along his hip instead. You let your nails scrape his skin ever so slightly as they venture higher, feeling his firm abdomen twitch faintly beneath your touch. He is sculpted with perfect balance, the lines of his muscles painting a stunning picture of bodily strength without too dramatic of a bulk, still allowing for elegance. Your fingers ascend to his chest, traveling across its alluring plane, and come to graze one nipple, earning a hitch in your husband’s breath. Otherwise, he stands perfectly still, subjecting himself to your quiet exploration.
You circle him slowly, your touch uninterrupted as your fingers trace his skin on a path to his shoulder blades. In the meantime, you release his newly long hair from the silver headpiece he had given himself, letting it fall onto the heap of clothes on the floor. You come to a halt facing his back, as beautifully muscled as the front, and—for the love of the Valar you have forsaken, there is nothing objectively different about the shape of his buttocks, but you swear they have grown even more enticing than before. You give one an appreciative caress, fingers following the plump curve of flesh between his upper thigh and lower back, before giving it a most satisfying squeeze.
Your husband releases a short huff of a chuckle. You press yourself against him, still groping his behind as you brush his hair over his shoulder to press a kiss to the top of his spine.
“I find myself in quite the predicament, I’m afraid,” you murmur into his skin. “So exquisite is the gift, I cannot imagine how I am to pay in kind.”
“A gift, by definition, is not paid,” your husband says, giving you a pointed look over his shoulder. “But you may begin by putting an end to this teasing.”
You grin, giving his behind a sharp pinch with just a bit of nail scratch. That finally earns you an undignified gasp from his throat, followed by a scolding tsk as you turn him around by the shoulders.
“I am merely beholding your ‘natural form’, my lord,” you mock Celebrimbor’s earlier words, caressing your husband’s face and chest as you meet his scalding gaze with your sensuous one. “So I may know how best to worship it.”
You all but lunge forward to catch his lips, finally, after the wait of separation as well as your self-imposed delay—
A large hand clamps around your neck. It is your husband, now, who keeps you at bay, lips hovering one tantalizing inch above yours as he grouses, “I believe you mentioned something about kneeling.”
He pushes down on your shoulders with just enough force that you gasp as your knees bend, dropping to the floor at once. He might as well have reached down your throat and ripped the breath from your lungs with his fingers. You look up at your husband, standing above you in all his glory, the light of candles catching in his fair tresses in an ethereal halo. Yet most disarming are the pitch black depths of his eyes, trained onto you with devastating intensity.
“Well, my lady?” His tongue curls around the respectful title in such a way, it somehow sounds degrading. He tilts your chin even further back with a firm knuckle. “How is it that you worship your gods?”
You swallow nothing at all, eyelids fluttering as you stare upwards like a believer at prayer. He does this sometimes, playing along until he doesn’t, flipping the tables and taking charge in the blink of an eye. It almost feels like a physical stroke of your clit, creamy arousal gushing from your core in an instant.
It’s such a slippery slope. The submission. The rawness of it. You’ve both known what it was to be at the mercy of another before, one who had no such thing as mercy. But you do not despair, and you are not afraid. For this is not Morgoth, nor are you a slave. You are free to surrender yourself to him, and few things make you feel so powerful as his craving to be adored by you.
���I have one god, and one alone,” you murmur, holding his gaze as you embrace his legs, clinging to the flesh just below his buttocks and striving to look up despite the angle at which you then bend. “I kneel only to him,” you lay a kiss above one knee, “I worship only at his feet,” then the other. “I would kill for him,” you kiss him mid-thigh on one leg, “I would die for him,” then the other. “I would live,” you place a kiss right to the side of his cock, “through endless torment,” as well as the other side, “only for him.” You rise on your knees slightly, and press your lips below his navel, pleading with your eyes. For what, it matters not. For anything he might give.
The growl which leaves your husband’s throat is more wild beast than Elf. He takes in his fists your hair and his own hard length, keeping you where he wants as he drags the tip of his cock from the base of your neck to your chin, as though splitting the skin upon the blade of his desire. Arousal smears a trail up your throat. He wants in.
“Show me,” he commands, his tip nudging at your quivering lips. “Show me how you adore me.”
As if you had not already. As if you do not always. But you are beyond glad to remind him. Your tongue darts past your lips to give the slit a sole lick. As he releases his cock to plant his hand onto your shoulder instead, you take hold of his length yourself to flatten it against his stomach. You spare a moment to admire it, so promisingly full and flushed with want, then press your lips to the underside, right at the base, and work your way to the tip with a string of doting kisses. How you love this most sensitive part of him, and cherish each and every twitch with which it responds to your affections.
His hands tense impatiently on your head and shoulder, but he needs not handle you into further action as you finally take his cockhead in your mouth, sucking gently. Then firmly, and over again, until you’re truly fucking him with your mouth, your hand working in tandem to cover the length you cannot swallow with each bob of your head.
The crease in his brow betrays his pleasure, though he stands above you tall and stoic as ever. Even when you swirl your tongue around his tip the way you know drives him wild, even when you reach underneath to fondle the sensitive sack at the base of his manhood. You wish he would reward your efforts with the groans and gasps you know he keeps lodged within his throat. You want to rip them out with your teeth, if need be. And so you take him deep, as deep as he can go inside your throat, all while piercing him with your wanton gaze.
Your husband curses. His fist in your hair tightens, tugs at the roots with just enough force that it stings most deliciously. Control is ripped from you once more as he drives his cock into your throat at his own merciless pace, and if you could, you would smile at your victory in breaking his composure. You grab hold of his buttocks, nails digging into the soft flesh as he buries himself in your mouth, over and over. You’ve gathered more than enough skill over your years together to withstand such an act whilst still drawing some air into your lungs, even if only the barest minimum. Still, a tear slides down your cheek, and you groan around his length, knowing the sound will only add to his pleasure.
“Such beauty,” he muses gruffly, catching your tear with a gentle thumb even as he keeps thrusting. “Such ruin.”
His mind nudges at yours, such a stark contrast between the immaterial caress and his ruthless handling of you. The answer he seeks is written in your eyes, your mind, the same message ringing out over and over from every corner of your being: Grip me, keep me, ruin me. Spill in my mouth. Fill it with your taste. Give me everything.
The enormity of your need for his pleasure is what does him in. He doesn’t stifle, doesn’t deny you the sound of his wrecked groan as he ceases upon a final thrust, cock shoved so deep down your throat that your nose is buried in the fair curls at his base. You shut your eyes as he spills and spills, relishing the throbbing of his flesh on your tongue and the essence of him gliding down your throat. Breathing can wait. Not forever, but for a while.
Your husband, of course, allows it long before you’d have truly struggled. But you still pant for breath the moment he pulls out, and your forehead drops to his thigh as you wipe the mess left on your chin. Not a moment later, your husband tilts your head back, demanding your misty eyes to meet his.
“My love,” he breathes out, the lust in his gaze having melted into something akin to awe. “Oh, my love. How desperately you crave my pleasure.” His chest begins to heave, eyes growing feral with fresh hunger. “As I crave yours.”
He bends down, grabs your waist and hoists you from the ground straight into his arms, at last claiming your lips as you wrap your legs around him with an elated moan. It is as though his end did nothing but spur him into wishing for another, this time whilst buried in your depths. Barely a moment later, he lays you down on your bed, his bare body pressing your clothed one into the mattress. His hips are already nestled between your legs, grinding relentlessly as you write and whine beneath his ravenous kisses of your mouth, then of any bare inch he finds of your neck and chest.
He fists his hands in the shoulders of your dress, and he needs no blade to rip the fabric down your chest unceremoniously. You gasp, mildly indignated—you had been rather fond of that piece. But the sacrifice is well worth it for the unbridled desire on his face as he admires your bare breasts, as though it were his first time seeing them. “This is all I could think of,” he rasps out, “whilst I stood waiting at the gate. What I would do once I could finally touch my wife’s skin, her flesh...” He kneads one breast, staring in marvel as that wonderfully pliant part of you yields beneath his fingers, “This lovely, soft flesh of yours. Look how it calls to me.”
His thumb swipes over one pebbled nipple, indeed straining upward as though reaching for your husband’s touch, just before he descends upon it with the heat of his mouth.
“Yes,” you moan, arching into him greedily. “But my flesh has remained unchanged... for centuries,” you strive to argue as his tongue lavishes that most sensitive peak, teeth tugging in a mean tease at the flesh around it. “Tonight,” you gather your resolve, “I was supposed... to be exploring... you!”
With a great push on that last word, you flip him onto his back. Your husband lets loose a wicked laugh as his head hits the pillow and you roll on top of him, panting.
“It is hardly my fault that you are so easily distracted.” He grins up at you without an ounce of shame. Oh, the audacious little arse of a Maia (whom you would not have any other way).
“As if you are any better,” you retort, and swiftly prove yourself right. You dive much like a vulture aiming to snatch its prey, one hand sinking in his hair as you catch the brand new pointed tip of his ear between your teeth and tug, hard. Your husband gives a sharp grunt, hands flying to grip your hips.
“Hm, I’ve missed these,” you say, suckling at the tender skin as if to soothe the sting you purposely inflicted whilst your husband groans beneath you. “Remember when I made you spill simply from biting them?”
“A most admirable feat,” he growls, “for which I have not the patience at the moment.”
He means to lift his torso off the bed, but you hold him down with a firm hand pressed to his chest. “Ah-ah,” you shake your head, slowly rising to sit up astride him. “I wish to stay right here,” you say, gathering the skirts of your dress pooling over his crotch to help yourself to his newly straining erection, “and admire the view.”
And what a wonderous view indeed. From here, he is laid out below you like a grand feast, offering to the pleasure of your eye every little twitch of the muscles in his neck and abdomen as you give his length a few preparatory pumps. His hair is splayed out on your pillow in fair waves, like the halo of the divine being he now claims to be. You can nearly see why Morgoth had so wished to corrupt him, when he truly was a being of pure light. Though in Morgoth’s place, you would never have been so foolish as to fail in cherishing Mairon’s loyalty like the most precious gift that it was. In Morgoth’s place, you’d have punished your beloved servant with nothing but the most wicked of pleasures, and rewarded his terrible feats in your name with a throne beside yours and a crown placed upon his splendid head.
“Admire?” your husband raises a coy eyebrow, even as he throbs in your fist. “I thought you wished to reward me for my generosity,” he reminds you of the little game you had been playing at the beginning. You are no mighty Vala who can offer him everything he has ever craved on a silver platter, but you need not be, when you are what he needs most desperately.
“What better reward than this?” you smile, and sink onto his length in one swift move, pulling a moan from yourself and a brisk curse in Black Speech from him. Having engulfed him to the hilt, you plant your hands onto his chest, savoring the divine stretch.
“How does it fit, my love?” your husband asks, thrusting up ever so slightly.
“It’s perfect,” you moan. “So... so perfect.” As always, but you can’t deny you’ve landed at an angle which hits especially right, even before you’re begun to truly ride him.
“Good.” Your husband’s smile drips with pride. “I made it for you.”
It takes a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. He has made this form, having fully recovered his ability to deliberately choose the shape and size of each part of himself, and—
“Oh,” you let out, your face crumpling with adoration as you melt on the inside. “You’ve gone through such trouble…”
You say it with false modesty, though this is barely a fraction of the lengths to which he had gone for you in the past, as well as barely a necessity. Even a shaft as inauspicious as the handle of a hammer could become an instrument of your pleasure in your husband’s hands, if it were wielded with his incomparable skill and intimate knowledge of your flesh. But whilst form alone is not everything, there is such a thing as a more or less natural fit for any given body. And this particular appendage with which your husband has endowed himself… the length and girth, every vein, every ridge, is specifically tailored to suit your needs. To stretch you perfectly, just on the right side of the light burn he knows you relish without causing you real pain, to rub and press exquisitely against your walls in all the sweetest ways and spots he knows by heart that you would most enjoy.
“No trouble at all, my love,” he says, hands roaming over your thighs. “I made each part of myself to suit my purpose. I desire no offspring, and have no bodily needs apart from those awakened by my wife. So, you see, the sole purpose of my cock... is to pleasure you. Us.” He brings your hand to his lips, the kiss he presses to your knuckles as reverent as though he were greeting you in the midst of an elegant ballroom rather than naked in your bed, buried inside you to the hilt. “I worship only at the feet of my goddess as well.”
He says it like a vow. This time, when he rises from the mattress to gather you close, closer, you make not the slightest move to stop him—distracted again. But you are beyond caring. Beyond teasing games. There is no slow seduction, no calculated rhythm to the manner in which you begin to move, hips rolling frantically into your husband’s.
“Yes, my love,” he urges fervently. “Take what you need.”
As you do, he makes quick work to relieve you of the remnants of your dress, jaw clenched as your heat swallows him over and again in its velvety depths. He pulls and tears at the fabric, throws it away as if it were standing between him and the healing of Middle-Earth itself, and his wife is at last bared atop him, bouncing prettily on his cock.
“Nothing beneath,” he remarks, a most delicious reprimand as he gropes at your waist, urging you in your movements. “Is such the custom among the ladies of Eregion these days?”
A short laugh finds its way through the string of gasps and moans that leave your throat. “I’ve not worn undergarments since you arrived at the gate.”
“Of course not,” he purrs, the twisted pride in his gaze going straight to the onslaught of pleasure already between your legs. “My beautiful wife, waiting for me with open arms and a bare cunt. Soaked the moment you laid eyes upon me, were you not?”
All the answer he gets is a pitiful whine, and your lips sloppily catching his in a needy kiss. Seated in his lap, with your arm wrapped around his shoulders and your hand sunk into his hair, you are in control over the pace of your thrusts as well as utterly helpless with adoration. He holds you in the circle of his arms so fiercely, tears gather at the corner of your eyes as you pull away to take in your beloved’s expression. His beautiful lips, slightly parted in pleasure. His eyes, darkened to near slits with unbridled desire for you. Only for you.
“I love you,” you all but sob, your hips clashing into his so ruthlessly, you would fear for the anatomy of any lesser being of male form subjected to such treatment. Your mind is as frantic as the tempest in your core, on the verge of unraveling. “I love you, I love you so much—”
“All the heart I have left is yours,” he says in a ragged breath, nails digging into your shoulderblades. “Yours, always yours.”
If that wasn’t enough, the heat of his seed filling you to the brim does you in. Your peak has you clenching around your husband’s throbbing cock as though you mean to cage him within you for the rest of all time, and what a tempting prospect that is.
You slack against him, breathing heavily into his neck. Incoherent fragments of endearments leave your lips, but not even you can tell what you are saying. Your husband cradles your head, shushing you softly through the aftershocks of your release, and lies back against the pillows with you securely in his arms. You hum tiredly as he pulls out, and use the little strength left in your limbs to shift downward so that you may rest your head on your husband’s chest. He needs no heartbeat, but it soothes you to feel it beneath your cheek, strong and slowly settling down after the wonderful exertion through which you had put his form.
“I take it, then,” he says into the blissful silence that has fallen between you, “that my new visage is to your liking.”
You give a soft, tired laugh. Lifting yourself enough that you can gaze down at your husband’s face, you cup his cheek with an adoring smile.
“I liked you rough around the edges, imperfectly human,” you murmur, fingertips grazing the fine lines at the corner of his eye. “I like you smooth and pristine, descended from a great cloud of golden light. I like this face as well as any other, so long as I am looking in my beloved’s eyes.” You press a short kiss to his smiling lips. “It does not hurt, of course, that he tends to be unbearably fair.”
A small chuckle rumbles from his chest to yours. “I do try. But I admit I wonder,” he goes on, growing thoughtful, “now that I am able to change at will once more... whether you would prefer me as I was.”
His question gives you pause, your brow knitting slightly. He does not find such a prospect hurtful, you feel, but he is rather curious to know the answer.
“Would you prefer me as I was?” you ask in turn. “If I were... changed somehow, as you have been?”
His eyes caress your face as his knuckles graze your cheekbone, deeply tender. “I cannot say I would not mourn, if only for a while, the exact arrangement of lines and curves which shaped your form when I first held you in my arms,” he confesses, soft-spoken. “But I would prefer my beloved as she wishes to be.”
Many times, he has been loving to you, but there is a particular flavour to the moments when he is so plainly… sweet. His words move you in a way that makes you feel oddly fragile, sending your heart aflutter as only a being much younger and less scarred than you might be able to feel. You lay your head on your husband’s chest, closing your eyes to savour the sentiment. Yet, as his fingers graze your skin in loving patterns, a trace of old sorrow creeps into your heart. How lucky you are to be lying in your husband’s arms, discussing whether you would prefer one face over another, when you had once wondered how many Ages would have to pass before you could finally be at each other’s side once more.
“I was ill,” you murmur suddenly, cheek still pressed to his heart. “When they took you. For a long time. Ill of mind. As though part of it had shattered and the splinters kept shredding at what little was left of it. I began to... slip, between reality and waking dreams that felt so real, I could no longer tell the difference. At times, I was grateful for it. Because in the ruins of my mind, you had returned to me with a crown upon your head, and you took me in your arms and I was whole again, if only until the fiction fell apart and left me even more bereft than I had been before. Sometimes, I fell into memories, reliving Morgoth’s torments as though they had never ended, but even within those I longed to remain forever. For there, you were with me, and no pain could compare to that of being without you. But once... once, I lived not the past I craved, nor the one that had come to pass. I was... someone else. Someone I had been before Morgoth. And so were you. In fact... there had never been a Morgoth.”
The hand with which your husband was caressing your hair comes to a hesitant halt. You feel him tense, in body and in mind, feel his disquiet upon hearing such words. But he remains silent, and allows you to gather his hand in your own.
“It came to me in glimpses, moments over time, strung together into one story,” your voice is soft in a foreign way as you begin the tale, your fingers idly playing with his before your far away eyes. “What I first felt was light—the light of the Trees, warm upon my face. The skies of Valinor, clear abovehead, the soft grass grazing my bare feet where I sat by the creek. I was… singing. A song of my own making which I cannot remember, and which I am not sure I ever truly knew. But it was cut short, for I was startled by a sudden presence. Rising in haste to my feet, I turned to find the mightiest of the Maiar of Aulë himself standing only a few paces out of reach, his beautiful face awed as well as a touch apologetic. You had not meant to disturb my peace. But so enchanting you had found my voice as you were passing by, you said, that you wished to capture it in one of your creations.
“And so, at your invitation, I began to visit the great forge where the wonders of your mind were brought into being. I was so… shy, I barely dared to address you. But there was such peace in the silences we shared, such ease, that even though we were near perfect strangers, I felt as though we had already spoken every word in the world, and nothing remained to be said of our existence which we had yet to confess to one another most openly.
“You asked me to sing as you shaped metal, as you gave form to wondrous gems. And when I did, you looked at me as though I were the most precious being to have ever breathed in the light of the One. At times, you would forget yourself, and whilst precious materials awaited to be shaped before you, your hands would find mine instead. And they were able to do so with ease, for the more times I joined you in your forge, the closer together we stood.
“But you would not tell me what it was that you meant to craft, shrouding the work of your hands, somehow, from my eyes, even when I looked closely. Only because I let you, though. I knew I could look past the illusion and peek at any moment, but I made a game of it—trying to guess in what manner of adornment you meant to capture my voice. And each time I returned, you would gift me the very jewel I had last guessed, whether wrongly or not. Not the creation you meant to achieve in the end, but lesser ones crafted in my absence, during uninterrupted hours of toil. ‘Lesser’ being but a manner of comparison, for they were the most exquisite I had ever laid eyes upon. But I would have delighted in wearing something as simple as a bracelet made of grassblades, had I known them to have been entwined by your hands.
“On the day your work was finished, my heart was filled with such sorrow thinking our hours together might come to an end. For however plainly our eyes and joined hands had spoken of our feelings, such was my timid nature that I had never dared voice them, and you had never risked bringing offence to my virtue by speaking of yours. Not until you had completed your work, and you finally revealed to me what your end had been from the very beginning. It had not been one jewel you meant to craft, but two. Two splendid rings—neither of power, nor of symbolic importance to any but you and I. With your gifts, you had woven my voice into the gems, and in a way impossible to capture into words, the light reflected upon it shone with the echo of my song. Only then, as you placed one of the pair into my hands, did you confess that you had loved me since the moment you had first heard my voice, and your greatest desire would be for those twin jewels to become the symbols of devotion with which we become wed. Nevertheless, were it not my wish to bind myself to you, the other ring would be mine, to gift, if I should like, to the most fortunate being with whom I would choose to share my soul, whilst you would content yourself to love me from afar, and wish me nothing but the greatest of joy for so long as existence should be. At once I confessed that such a thought was not only absurd, but also too painful to bear—for my heart had been yours since the moment I had laid eyes upon you.
“And so we wed in song and merriment, and we danced under the radiant branches of the Trees, celebrated by your kin and mine alike. We made love in a meadow, soft and slow, and for hours you caressed my skin with petals yielded by a blossom tree in honor of our union. Even that act of passion was somehow so clean. So pure. So...” you search for the right way to describe it, “...wrong.”
It’s as though a spell breaks upon that last, dissonant word. You roll off of your husband, settling onto your side to face him as he does the same. His expression is hard to read, some blend of unease and intrigue in the furrow of his brow.
“For the first time, when the fiction ended, I did not weep,” you tell him, your voice no longer dreamy, but returned to a more familiar fierceness. “For I knew not those beings I had seen. Devoid of purpose, endlessly demure. Light and songs, desire kept secret beneath bashful smiles,” you scoff. “I wanted back the husband that I loved, not some unrecognizable version of him wearing his face. Not some children’s story of infuriating innocence.” With a small shake of your head against the pillow, and a soft, mirthless chuckle, you shift closer into your husband’s arms, both of you adjusting so that you are embracing on your sides. “So, no, my love,” is the answer you ultimately give, “I do not wish for either of us to be anything but what we are, here and now, in body as well as spirit.”
Your husband only hums, deep in thought. He has not said a word since you began to speak, and the longer his silence stretches, the more you begin to wonder whether your confession has displeased him, somehow. Perhaps he does not wish to hear of this romantic scenario your mind had invented, despite its protagonist being but a different version of himself. Or perhaps...
You’ve rarely spoken of what came before. It is a surprise as well as a relief, then, when he does so without seeming too unsettled by the fact that you had alluded to his former self in the first place.
“I was not as you described, indeed,” he murmurs in the end. “Even with my original... disposition, I’d not have hesitated to make my desire known, should I have had any such inclinations towards another. I have always hated a waste of good resources—time is no exception.”
You smile slightly. You know that all too well.
“Nor was I some helpless maiden who shied away from the slightest of amorous attentions,” you assure him. “I doubt it, either way,” you shrug. “I can hardly remember.”
Elven memories do not dim. You do remember what your life before Morgoth was like, but the details of it—the faces, the words spoken, the feelings… those have long been tucked away in a deep corner of your mind, never to be spoken or thought of again. For what use was there to it? That life had been burned away, along with everything you used to be.
“Either way,” you go on, brushing off even the merest thought of that distant past, “it was but a dull fable, conjured by a broken mind. I healed soon after. Reminded myself why I needed to remain sane and strive to do all that I can towards our goal, whether you were to return in a day or a century. Or several,” you add quietly, holding onto your husband just that little bit tighter. His forehead creases with the same deep ache in your chest as he nudges your nose with his.
“Let us not dwell on the past, or things that never were,” he murmurs in his deep, comforting tone. “I am here. And I shall not leave your side again.”
There is still an oddly meditative lilt to his words, a certain sense of wistfulness that does not quite hold the same flavour as the longing you had felt so many times shared between you. But you make no attempt to pry at the sentiment with your mind. Especially as he closes the distance between your lips, kissing you with utmost gentleness.
The kiss deepens, lasts for ages, but remains achingly tender. Utterly disarming. Your legs intertwine, bringing your hips flush together in the tangle. His flesh finds yours, and before long you are joined. There is no power play, no teasing, not even the desperate, nearly pained gasps, wails or groans you so enjoy to wring from one another. Only every inch of him pressed against every inch of you, soft moans melting onto each other’s tongues, the languid pleasure of moving together to an end that envelops you in its warm embrace, leaving you trembling in your husband’s arms and him moaning your name like a most sacred prayer.
In its wake, you are beyond words. All you can do is bury your face in your husband’s chest as he holds you close still, his fingers drawing soft shapes on your skin.
“I’d have made my desire for you known,” he repeats his earlier words in your ear, hushed but fervent, “and I’d never have bowed before Morgoth. For no promise of power could have swayed me to risk your safety. And we’d have stayed servants of the Valar, pure and obedient. It is only as we are now, my love, that we shall be masters of our own fate, and rule above all others.”
You shut your eyes, nuzzle further into his neck, his words sending a shiver through your very soul. This life you have shared is not easy. Not pretty. But in the end, it shall be glorious, better than any other that you might have lived. Truly.
It has to be.
As you drift to sleep, you swear your husband’s caress holds the ghost of a tender petal brushing your skin.
Previous fic with same reader -> As one
Next fic with same reader -> A true gift
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wolfpack. aka: if not friend, then why friend-shaped?
"Hey-- uh, Danny?" There's an almost imperceptible tremor in Tucker's voice.
Danny doesn't look up from what he's doing, his pencil scritching across his notebook as he tries to do another quadratic formula question. "Hm."
"What's -- uh -- what's with the dogs?"
He looks up now, and finally sees where Tucker is -- standing in the doorway of his room with an ashy look on his face and a skewed, nervous smile. He's got a white knuckle grip on the doorknob. Sam is wide-eyed behind him, and using him as a partial meat-shield.
Danny looks down to the two giant ghost wolves sprawled next to him lazily. One large green one with his head in Danny's lap, letting him use him as a prop-up for his notebook. Another equally large black one splayed against his hip, sleeping on her side with her head tilted inward to his calf.
Automatically, a grin tilts across Danny's face, and he lifts his notebook up to scratch behind the green one's ears. He opens a lazy eye, one that is bloody red with a ring of yellow around the pupil, before slipping it shut and leaning his head into Danny's touch. "This is Sirius and Procyon," he says, and reaches down to scratch Sirius' belly. "And they're not dogs, they're wolves."
"Great," Tucker says, his voice suddenly much smaller and faint, "Love that distinction."
Sirius makes a great big groan, and Danny's grin widens, his heart swelling with fondness. His hand slips away from her belly, and before he can put his notebook back down, Procyon pushes his head up his lap until his ear is against his stomach, demanding pets now too.
Sam peeks her head up from over Tucker's shoulder, "I think what Tucker's asking here is what are they doing here, Danny."
He shrugs, scratching under Procyon's chin. "They kinda just showed up. I tried sending them back to the Zone, but they keep returning." And they were weirdly intent on just following him around, which is the only reason he gave up on returning them. They weren't causing trouble, and they knew how to hide around the living. Plus, he just loves dogs. "So now I have two wolves living with me."
This, oddly enough, did not do anything to calm Sam and Tucker down. Tucker's mouth purses into a thin line, and he presses the sides of his palms to his lips in prayer. "How have your parents not found out about this?"
Danny wordlessly raises his hand, and his sleeve slides down to reveal a thin chain bracelet hooked around his wrist. He whistles sharply, and both Procyon and Sirius jerk their heads up to look at him, ears pricked up and eyes alert.
Silently, he points to his wrist and rattles it twice, and in unison both wolves stand up and pounce. Instantly, they turn into a respective, opaque black and green mist that swirls around the bracelet and forms into two, flat wolf charms.
Both wolves are posing in the stereotypical wolf howl, with little stars indented on the sides. Procyon's charm has the Canis Minor constellation engraved on it, while Sirius has the Canis Major.
Danny faces Sam and Tucker, and points at his wrist. "Like this."
#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp prompt#dpxdc prompt#dpxdc crossover#danny phantom au#dpxdc au#i am SO tempted to make this a danyal al ghul au for no other reason than I love Danyal Al Ghul <33 he is the most blorbo ever#wolfpack au#tagged dpxdc bc i think yall could have fun with this idea.#plus this was inspired by a clone^2 commission that i just got the finished piece for today. which i'll prolly share if anyone's interested#just no thoughts head empty danny with a mini wolfpack :] Sirius and Procyon are very protective of him. they wuuuuuv him.#my idea (kinda) is that they're actually straight up *danny's* wolves. like. they were made when he was. they're not random ghost wolves#that decided to imprint on this random ghost child. they're danny's. they're like. familiars. the fact that wolves symbolize power. loyalty#guardianship and the fact that they're described as 'extremely intuitive with a near supernatural instinct that can detect danger'#(all of which can apply to danny) was coincidental. but yeah. they formed in the ghost zone and when they didn't find their boy they went#searching for him. which is why he didn't have them right away. but also if anyone wants to take this they can interpret however they like#also like. the fact that danny canonically is friends with a wolf person (Wulf) and befriended Cujo instantly -- who is shown to be hostile#to anyone NOT danny -- makes me think that dogs just REALLY really like him. he's like. an animal whisperer. which i think is really funny#bc i think it'd drive sam -- resident animal activist -- up a wall. just a little bit. like yes its great that these animals love danny sm!#but also!!! she!! look her way pls. she loves you animals sm. she's vegetarian!! she's just a little envious. just a tad.#just mmm the mental image of Sirius and Procyon stalking out of Danny's shadow with deep rumbling growls. their hackles raised and their#muzzles scrunched up to reveal dangerously sharp gleaming teeth. they're protecting their boy.
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tfw your arch enemy gets out of therapy-jail and proceeds to hang around being a Mild Nuisance
#i made this just so i could have the 'YOU' image. for when i am suffering from advanced stage Triangle Disease#i'm gonna put him in the pear wiggler#gravity falls#bill cipher#the book of bill#gravyfalls tag#tbob#tbob spoilers#(mild- in caption)#my edits#my art#i freehanded bill (w/ reference) and i'm rly pleased w/ how he came out :3
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#something is very obviously different about these two compared to my normal images on this blog. i acknowledge this#also the sv model is Really good. and since they always stare straight at the camera anyway… and no one pays attention to the background…#and the only high-quality phantump model i could find was so horribly shiny that its eyes were just white voids#in my defense‚ phantump always just stare straight at you in game#the lighting is different‚ yeah. that's probably the dead giveaway. beyond the background. but like. i'm the only being on the planet who#really likes phantump anyway. i feel like it's a generally forgettable pokémon to most folks#phantump#HELLO this one is a weird one. i have some explaining to do. so when i did this one i didn't know how to edit models really at all#and when i got the models for these‚ the xy models were super shiny. shiny to the point that it made their eyes fuckin invisible#and i decided that since you could barely tell it was phantump‚ i needed a different way to get these images#i remembered that in the SV dlc‚ every time you find a wild phantump‚ it just fucking. stares. at you. and i was like. aha#i kinda remembered because of the test stream that i did. tumblr user alligayytorr (am i getting the right amount of Ys) said#“haha i am getting a sneak peek” when i zoomed the camera in on a phantump. and i remembered that. and i was like. i can utilize this#and ended up using just an in-game screenshot of SV in replacement of the regular content. later on‚ after that#once we got into gen 7 and it became less and less reliable to find models‚ i had to learn how to edit them manually to remove the shine#i am a software dev. not a 3d modeler. this ended up coming down to editing the code of the models directly (which i ended up writing a#script to automate). now‚ today‚ january 22nd (the day of me writing these tags and updating this post)‚ i remembered this post was in the#queue and was not normal. so i went back�� ran the script on the phantump and trevenant models‚ and unshinified them#then edited these two posts to be normal. i have left the original pictures i took under the cut for reference and as bonuses#because i really enjoy phantump. so that's why those images are there‚ and that's why these tags are here#just for posterity's sake‚ the folks who come here mostly for my commentary‚ i've left the ORIGINAL tags of the post when i initially#made it with the SV pictures up at the top (i wanted to rearrange them‚ but tumblr makes that Very difficult‚ so i left them as-is)#so if these tags are confusing to read i Apologize. but i hope now that you're at the bottom you understand what happened#i'm gonna go edit the trevenant post now
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abilene was nearly glowing in his arms . every moment was a gift , and she intended to treasure them . she would have said anything , done anything , to hear his laugh and see his lips part in a smile , and when they finally did as he teased her she felt her heart swell in her chest . he looked free when he smiled , she thought , like all of the weights that had so steadily built up on his shoulders fell for just a moment . she wished that she could see him free of all of that , she wished that he would let her carry some of those burdens as well .
❛ i meant about the whole you-loving-me-more thing , ❜ she teased back , fingers running through his hair . his curls were always so soft slipping between her digits , and there weren't many back home with hair as light as his . it made her think of golden sunlight through the slats of a roof , of laying on her back and letting the warmth seep through her skin to her bones . ❛ though yes , i am happy that his vocabulary has expanded hey , what's wrong ? ❜ her hands stilled in his hair as alex's smile fell . his eyes always reminded her of clear skies and the warmth of the sun , but she could almost see the clouds rolling in as he spoke .
dark brows furrowed when alex continued . why wouldn't she want those things ? fantasies of what those days would be like , memories of being safe in his arms , all of those promises had been what had kept her lucid these past few months . now with the reality of it in her hands , why would she toss it away ? her mouth opened to protest , fingers moving from his hair to his cheeks to force his eyes to look into hers .
❛ what are you ❜ she was cut off by his next question . it was a name that she had not heard in ages . . . in nearly a decade . for just a split second , half of a moment , her eyes widened . she felt all of the warmth leave her body at once and her hair rose up on the back of her neck .
the name brought up an image that abilene had long since tried to push from her mind , one that visited her again and again in her nightmares . it was of gunner , of his muddy brown eyes glaring into hers as his hands wrapped around her throat . she could still see the blood dripping from his nose from his fight with the other tribute , see how his lips pulled into a smile as surely he would win , surely he was not to be bested by a pathetic little girl ? why would he want to talk about gunner now ? she hadn't even been sure prior to this moment that alex knew the boy's name . then , as alex's jaw sets and he continues , she felt like the floor had been ripped out from underneath her . her stomach sunk , and her heart nearly stopped beating .
abilene let out a soft , albeit shaky , breath and her thumbs brushed along his cheeks just once . ❛ i will always love you , alexander nilsen . ❜ yet again , her voice was firm though quiet . she brushed some of his curls from his eyes . she knew that his intention had not been to hurt , though his words still stung . did he not trust her ? she held so much trust in him , had given him so much of herself , that the thought of him not returning that feeling made an ache settle in her chest . her stomach churned . ❛ you can always ask me anything but . . . where's all of this coming from , mi vida ? ❜
“aren’t you proud of him for expanding his vocabulary?” alex teases with a laugh, clinging onto what little normalcy this conversation offers him. it never fails to amaze him how easily abilene can make him forget about the world and all the terrible things that have happened to them, breathe a newfound sense of hope into his weary heart. “thank you for taking care of him. you didn’t have to, and… i just want you to know that it means the world to me, that i see what you do for the boys.” and it makes him love her even more. or does it? suddenly, memories of his time in the capitol come back to him, and anxiety begins to brew deep inside his chest.
“i made plenty of promises before the games and i intend to keep them all if that’s what you want. still. that is.” he’d been told things about her. things that didn’t sit right with him and seemed so very far-fetched, and yet they might have managed to plant a seed of distrust in his chest. “cause if you don’t want the things that we talked about, for whatever reason, i won’t be upset with you.” fingers combing through her luscious locks, he can’t help but think how desperate they were back then, before the games, how terrified… he wouldn’t blame her if she only clung to him for comfort and protection.
“can i ask you about something? will you promise not be get angry with me?” he pleads softly, pulling back just to look at her, hands cupping her face to get her attention. “can we talk about gunner?” and how was he different from alex? wasn’t he an ally and a friend, too? he’d been told in the capitol that there might have been some feelings between the two, and in the end she betrayed him. was she planning on doing the same to him? has she been taking care of david because she’s feeling guilty? alex’s mind is still a wreck, a battleground where there’s rarely a moment of peace, and this internal conflict finds a way to lance through his features. brows furrowing in confusion, jaw setting. “if you don’t love me… i won’t hold it against you.”
#4lexnilsen#⋮ ❛ there's a change coming . coming for you and me . › ( v : rebellion )#[ brb screaming crying AND throwing up ]#[ ALSO crying at both of them trauma dumping starting with 'please don't be mad at me' WHY DO WE DO THIS ]#[ i love it ]#violence /#violence tw#blood /#blood tw#assault /#assault tw
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Listening to instrumentals from the silly doo-wee-ooo show is actually something that can be so painful.
#doctor who#doctor who music#murray gold#segun akinola#musings about music#this is specifically about 10's theme in vale decem. the long song in 11's regen piece. and clara's theme in face the raven / clara's diner#i get psychic damage everytime i simply hear the use of the motifs elsewhere because of the tragic associations those sadder renditions hav#obviously these songs aren't the only examples in doctor who but they are by far the most emotionally devastating ones for me personally#and obviously it isn't just leitmotifs either. basically hearing any piece that played during a sad scene gets to me.#how are you supposed to explain to your coworkers that you're tearing up because of instrumental sound association?#'yeah sorry these violins and humming sounds summoned vivid images of my favourite character dying/leaving and it made me sad'#love that composers can just straight up pavlov bell your emotions by getting you to associate a melody with a sad scene#an addition to this is doctor who instrumentals that make me nostalgic because I associate them with my own past#like 'this is gallifrey: our childhood. our home'. that song was one of my alarms for a good long while back when i was 15ish#so it kinda transports me back to that time in my life whenever i hear it. music really is its own little kind of time travel#i am very much looking forward to the continuing psychological damage murray gold will inflict upon me in the new season#and to have previously uplifting character leitmotifs used against me and forever be contaminated with sad feelings. love to see it#(also: not a instrumental but damn 'the stowaway' has no right being as good as it is. who knew a christmas sea shanty could sound so great#apologies for this probably niche-ish post (is it niche to know ost title's by heart? asking for friend). just feeling things about music
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Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN
#had to re-edit the image real quick because the original edit was from a post I made about Drew years ago#and while the Drew thing is becoming less and less likely. Nevin havinv one has basically been canon since#someone mentioned Greg's (was it Britney's) aura being familiar in s2ch1. ive been putting together a list of every line#that points to Nevin's aura throughout the whole thing (most from s2ch1 but then s2ch10 came out and it was really canon at that point)#but clearly i'm running out of time to say ''i fucking called it'' before it's explicitly stated and i dont want to be in another situation#where somebody else will beat me to a theory and me posting anything about it will seem like copying them. sorry about that btw i had#thought i had already mentioned theorizing that nevin was possessed by a demon in that old theory i made but i had forgotten that one was#super old and was about sigma. so no copying there i just got extremely paranoid there was a mention of a cult and i was like ''nuh uh#that's way too specific and out there of a detail to end up in both our theories'' and i forgot the rest of my super old post was outdated#as hell. and echos had gone ''yeah they're so similar!'' and i took their word for it but now i'm realizing they were probably just trying#to be supportive. so yeah no copying there i was just beaten to the punch of saying something. but i will NOT back down from the aura shit#because i have been calling that shit FROM THE START or at least since i started reading ibvs back when ch20 came out.#also not backing down from saying chris was the worse friend because these past few chapters are the first time isaac has done anything tha#could knowingly upset chris meanwhile chris has. let edward drag isaac to the lair after isaac said edward would beat him up. chose not to#believe edward was holding the secrets over their heads because 'it was something isaac had said' and then immediately distrusted edward in#the next chapter because a random person he didn't know said to steal a book (might i mention how that entire scene proves chris' lack of#development and refusal to take responsibility because it perfectly alludes to when chris had brought those fireworks into his old school#and makes me wonder if charlie has actually gotten him in trouble with his past schools or if he's still just not taking responsibility#and if him following nevin to the woods to test out their powers is an extension of ''if something bad happens its not my fault''#like seriously this man would bring a mysterious suitcase onto a plane if he's told to). uh what was i talking about agai#anyway on a related note my mental state has only gotten worse since i left tumblr and the habit of thinking about chris instead of sleepin#or doing schoolwork has not stopped. so i was still failing for a while and might graduate now but am still staying away from tumblr.#so yeah this was a little update and im not going to linger this time im just going to leave tumblr again right after hitting post#addendum because i just can't let things go. and was thinking about chris again. i don't think his lack of development is because of bad#writing (anymore. i used to.). instead i'm certain his character arc is going to continue into him following someone (nevin probably) into#doing something really bad. and then he'll finally get actual consequences and go 'oh shit i fucked up real bad this time'#if you think that theory is reaching too far into the future you should hear mine about isaac dying at the end lmao
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levi/barbatos is currently rotating in my head rn and is tumbling like clothes in a dryer so you know what? headcanon list time lets go I thank you the total of like 5 people who will end up reading this they mean the world to me okay?
LEVIBARB HEADCANONS
Leviathan falling for Barb first, and man does he fall hard
He starts crushing on the butler when he fixes his cosplay; Levi had ordered it and it showed up damaged and ripped. Barbatos got around to fixing it before Levi could, and he hadn't even asked him to do so
It's just the idea of that Barb is so cool. Like cooler than anyone that Levi knows
He can bake, sew, he knows curses and spells, has wisdom on just about anything and everything--he's the cool type in dating sims. A kuudere, if you will, but even cooler
I don't think Levi has ever had a real crush on someone before. like don't get me wrong he has so many characters from his games and anime that he would do just about anything for, but I don't think he's really harbored those feelings for someone that is not in a computer screen
i like to think levi would then be so obvious about his crush on the butler, while the thinks he's being cool about it. everyone in a five mile radius knows about it lol
and ofc barbatos knows about it. like how could he not? levi isn't exactly secretive about it. the demon started to come over a lot more and try to find excuses to hang out with the butler
Barb humored him tho, because he did find him kinda cute. but more like in a way one would feel towards a sopping wet cat they found on the side of the street. he found it funny that levi was at times even willing to help him with things like baking or tending to the gardens, even when he wasn't good at either of those things
At some point it changed, though. Barbatos isn't sure when, but there is a point where it changes from him humoring Levi for the fun of it and into enjoying the other's company
Such an odd pair, tbh. They both know it but they are good for each other me thinks
Like??? As I've discussed Barb starts to genuinely enjoy Lev's company. He starts to laugh and smile more, acting less stoic even when Levi wasn't around
And Levi acting like a high school girl in love??? That's the good shit lol 💞💞 he is so much happier with life and the outside world and even came to terms with Barb being a normie! Because he is willing to learn <33
because!!! because Barb is open to learning about Levi's interests. Levi helps him interact kitchen (even though he isn't the best at baking) and he tends to the garden with him (even though he isn't all that knowledgeable on plants), and seeing as levi indulges in his hobbies, why not enjoy is free time in what levi likes?
Besides, levi just looks so happy when barb offers to play a game or watch an anime with him. and yeah barb fucking sucks ass at the games and has to politely ask levi to stop pausing on each frame of the episode in order to get through it all, but its the quality time together that counts
do you think about how lucifer and the others would feel? because i think about that all the time
like again levi isn't able to keep his crush secret at all so i imagine all his brothers (sans lucifer) try and help him out. like they drop heavy hints towards barb about how levi is interested in him while levi fights off the urge to call lotan out of sheer embarrassment in order to get them to stop
mammon so takes credit for those two getting together; levi was late for his first date because asmo wouldnt let him leave until he approved of his outfit; lucifer is holed away in his office, demonous in hand, trying not to think about his brother going out with diavolo's butler
like. i am sure diavolo would support it and would be extremely happy for barbatos that he found someone that makes him happy. but lucifer? he is speaking through gritted teeth of how happy he is for levi. he is definitely fine about this decision because his brother is a grown demon and can make his own decisions but he will be processing his feelings with a bottle or two (or three) of demonous later that night
and just....Levi being so awkward on the first few dates?? i mean im sure he will always be awkward when he's around Barb but like?? poor thing is a mess lmao
idk man something something barb brings such a huge comforting feeling to levi and levi gives barb a breath of fresh air into his life and something something they give strength to each other to leave comfort zones and live for something that makes them happy
#another argument for this ship: levi is orange/blue aroace colors while barb is green/black aro colors. i rest my case#i love this ship in both a romantic and a platonic way okay they are just sooooo cute together#i made this draft back in march....just shows you how much i procrastinate on things lmao#i could go on and on about these two honestly....and yes i am preparing image propaganda so one day i'll post that probably lol#the problem with barbatos though imo is that canon does very little with his character so i have to do all the work....sigh#you know what if anyone reads this. send me your barbatos hcs pretty please im starting to love this man and need more of him lmao#obey me#omswd#obey me barbatos#barbatos#obey me levi#leviathan#obey me leviathan#levi#levibarb#back when i was in my banners phase....damn#bunni mumbles#possibly delete later#<- depending on hard this post flops lmao#obey me headcanons
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A very interesting cloud formation!
#I don't think I had ever really seen clouds like this before? it looks like a cool painting or something :0#Pulling just a few images from my cloud and sky photos folder which has like 650 pictures in it becvause I'm obsessed with the sky lol#I will usually spare everyone the cloudposting but... in some exceptions when it's really cool I must Share#(upcoming covid mention in tags for those avoiding the topic)#I WANT TO BE ON AN AIRPLANE SO SO BAD I am going to start casting evil spells to explode all these 'back to normal' bastards who are out#spreading virus and shit HHHHHH... Covid is NOT over actually contrary to popular beielf especially for people with health conditions#that make them more vulnerable or would have worse consequences if they were to catch it etc. etc. wearing a mask in public is#in MOSt cases not THAt much of a horrific terrible evil inconvenience and it helps keep everyone around you safer including these#vulnerable populations!!!! Even if I didn't have any problems myself I would STILL be masking because it's a small gesture that can make a#big difference in people around me being comfortable. It's not like people with health issues just never have to go out or go to the stor#or whatever. There are still people out there who could be helped by extra precautions that are being overlooked. grrrrr...#Like at this point since I'm vaccinated and everything I would MAYBE consider flying on an airplane IF everyone else around me#was masking and being just as careful as me. But at this point it's just the wild west and I would literally be the only one who gives#a shit or who gets tested freqeuntly before after and during traveling and wears the proper type of mask well fitting and not half off my f#ce and blah blah blah. And precautions work best when EVEYRONE is participating. There's only so much you can protext yourself if everyone#around you is doing nothing. So.. alas.. I still do not feel safe traveling. And probably won't for years until more progress is made in#terms of like understanding and treating certain long covid issues and etc. Since I think it's inevitable that if I start going out again#I would get covid. Me and my household bubble are some of the only people I know who haven't had it yet (or at least not knowingly so - if#so it was one of the asymptomatic cases etc.). So if I was GOING to get it anyway I'd at least like the assurance that whatever long term#issues I inevtabley suffer because of it will be more easily treatable at that point instead of entirely disabling even further than I'm#already disabled. etc. AAANYWAY!! all that to say. I JSUT REALLY WANT TO be on an airplane!!! I dont even like traveling and going places I#hate vacations and would rather be at home working on my projects I'm fixated on lol HOWEVER I love the view from airplane windows#like the very few times in my life Ive actually been on a plane and the window is so COLD when you lay your forehead on it and sometimes yo#even see little ice crystals and it's like you're just in a landscape of clouds with a sea of clouds above and below and aaaAAAAAA#Literally I want to get on a plane just to go up in the air and then land and fly back. I don't even want to go on a real trip. I just NEED#to see the sky I need to be IN the sky I need to have that VIEW and the cold and everything!!!! gRGGHGgg... And I will do that the entire#time. I think my longest plane ride was 7 hours and I do not watch movies. I dont text or play games. I literally do nothing to entertain#myself except stare straight out the window for 7 hours (with a few eating and bathroom breaks). not even joking lmao. It's like a trance#I LOVE the sky and clouds so much and the view you get from an airplane is like incomparable!! also I love airports with the big windows an#people watching. but mostly I just long for the sky view again. GRRR.. sobbing and yearning >:T
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