#i think i have this as a head canon my on my master post for dragon lore in asoiaf

[rexscanonwife]

My s/i has a tendency to show her affection for people in a very doglike manner! Especially the closer it gets to the full moon 0u0

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus

@changeling-selfship @crushes-georg @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @rejaytionships @sunflawyer

@in-true-blue-love @tropicalgothships @little-miss-selfships @hotrodharts @cupiidzbow @frozenhi-chews @limey-self-inserts @candyheartedchy

[percentstardust]

dragons leaning their foreheads against one another and their riders as a love language....REAL.

[fazedlight]

Shadow (post-canon fluff)

“So what can we expect from tomorrow’s gala?” the newscaster asked.

Lena smiled, stopping herself from shifting nervously in the bright lights above her, glancing instead to the news studio’s camera as she spoke. “The gala is a black-tie fundraiser event for the Lena Luthor Foundation’s first project - an outreach program aimed at teaching STEM concepts to inner city children.”

“Fascinating,” the newscaster said, “And how will this education program work?”

“The children will be taught basic computer science concepts, and also have access to learn to code robots to compete in an obstacle course competition,” Lena said, eyes shifting back to the newscaster as she spoke, attempting to look as conversational and relaxed as possible. God, it’s been a while since I’ve done this, she thought to herself. “By giving the children real-world instruction, we hope they will be excited to see what one can really do with engineering and science.”

“And will your new girlfriend be attending the gala?”

As much as Lena had no problem staying composed, she could never quite master keeping the blush out of her cheeks. Not when it came to Kara. “She will be attending as well,” Lena confirmed, “Kara is a strong believer in a science education, having grown up with a strong tradition of scientific exploration on Krypton.”

“I imagine she’s an exception to the black tie rules,” the newscaster said.

“Of course,” Lena grinned, “We think the city is ready to know the real Supergirl.”

“Do you think your brother would be proud?”

The smile stuck to Lena’s face - no one but her closest friends would know that anything was amiss from her expression. But the question was certainly charged. While Earth Prime Lex had been known as a philanthropist, his quest for power had come out during the trial - somehow lauded by the public - only for him to attack the world and disappear into the phantom zone, leaving a confused public behind.

I guess I’ll never really escape him, Lena thought tiredly. In Stryker’s or dead or stuck in the phantom zone - none of it mattered. It seemed that Lex would always linger over her. “My brother’s legacy is complex,” Lena said, somewhat frustrated that she couldn’t be more direct on Earth Prime about who her brother really was. “I hope to honor the Luthor name, whatever that would’ve meant to him.” “Well, some very lucky children are about to have a fantastic summer,” the newscaster said back. “Thank you for joining us today, Lena.” “It was a pleasure,” Lena said.

---

Lying in the cool darkness of her bedroom - the setting sun hardly penetrating the windows anymore - Lena dozed quietly, relieved that the day was done.

Light footsteps padded down the hallway, causing a warm feeling in Lena’s chest. Kara’s home, she thought, and she was greeted only moments later by the kryptonian slipping into bed beside her, hugging around her back. “There’s Belly Burger in the kitchen,” Kara murmured, nuzzling softly into Lena’s hair. 

“Thank you,” Lena said back, “I needed that.”

“Rough day?”

“Not particularly. Just… him.”

Lena could feel Kara’s head on the pillow behind her, the kryptonian holding her quietly, giving Lena the space to think. “I think it’s more exhausting here,” Lena said eventually, “Lex, on this Earth.”

“Because they think he was a hero?”

“They don’t understand how someone who could work so closely with you,” Lena said, slowly rolling over on the bed to look at Kara directly, “Could turn around and try to kill you. At least on Earth 38, his first response to Superman was to build a kryptonite suit. People knew where things stood. I didn’t have to dance around.”

Kara hugged Lena more tightly. “I’m sorry, Lena,” she said.

Lena sighed, planting a small kiss on Kara’s lips. “I’ll be fine. I just wish I could get away from it sometimes.”

Kara’s brow furrowed thoughtfully, as she reached up to caress Lena’s face. Lena could almost see the thoughts dance behind her eyes, before she smiled softly. “What is it?” Lena asked.

“I…” Kara trailed off for a moment. “I was wondering, if you would like to visit Argo soon? Maybe after the gala? They’ve barely heard of Lex up there.”

Lena’s eyes shifted between Kara’s, small relief flowing through her body. “That sounds perfect.”

---

“Why do you think your brother started hating aliens?”

“Ms. Danv- er, Supergirl- what does Cat Grant think of ethics in journalism?”

“Your brother was a great man - what do you think caused him to snap?”

Lena sighed in relief as the dancing began, happy to have an excuse to lead Kara to the dance floor instead of continuing conversation with the various donors and reporters roaming about. At least the flashing cameras were less intrusive.

Kara, for her part, seemed almost curious at the extra attention. “This’ll take some getting used to,” she murmured playfully, lightly twirling Lena in her arms and setting off another flurry of photo flashes.

“They’ll calm down eventually,” Lena said, “There are only so many Super and a Luthor headlines that people will read.”

“Ready for our trip tomorrow?” Kara asked.

“More than ready.”

---

Alura hugged her warmly when they arrived. “It’s nice to get away,” Lena said, following Alura and Kara from J’onn’s ship to the El home.

She was somewhat disbelieving that she was really sitting in a kryptonian kitchen, on the remnants of an alien planet. With Zor-El off on an overnight deployment to oversee routine maintenance to Argo’s shield, the three of them spent Lena’s first night on Argo sipping on hot chocolate that Kara had brought from Earth. 

Lena found Alura was easy to open up to. “It’s just tiring, being in Lex’s shadow,” Lena said. “For once I wish I could be seen on my own terms.”

Lena thought she noticed Alura glance to Kara, but the thought didn’t linger as Alura looked back to Lena again. “Kara and Kal have told me of the feud,” she said sympathetically.

“It’ll be nice getting away from his name for a while,” Lena confessed. “I can just be Lena, instead of Lex’s little sister.”

“We’ll be going to the markets tomorrow,” Kara said, glancing from Lena to Alura. “I want to show Lena the town square.”

“I’m sure she’ll like it,” Alura said, exchanging what Lena was certain was a look with Kara. What’s that about?, she wondered, but Alura quickly moved on. “Is it strange not being a super here?” Alura asked Kara.

Kara smiled. “I’m home again.”

Lena took in Kara’s expression, the ease in her body. They talked about it from time to time - what it meant for Kara to have powers she constantly needed to control. Though she didn’t need to balance two identities anymore, there would always be the physical fatigue of controlling her powers on Earth.

Lena smiled. At least they’d have Argo as a refuge - where Lena wasn’t defined as Lex’s little sister, and Kara wasn’t defined by being a super.

---

Kara seemed oddly nervous that morning as they dressed. Lena was excited - to understand a little more of Kara’s home, to see a new culture - but she couldn’t quite understand her girlfriend’s nerves. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it,” Lena said curiously. “You don’t need to worry.”

Kara smiled back, reaching out to take Lena’s hand as they exited her parents’ home. The markets took place twice a week, in the large central park that now served as Argo’s main gathering place. But it seemed Kara wasn’t going directly to the center of the large field, instead detouring to the east. “Where are we going?” Lena asked.

“I want to show you Argo’s heroes first.”

Lena tilted her head curiously, following the kryptonian. The expanse around the city was laid out in a series of ringed parks, and they rotated clockwise along the various paths, Kara pointing out different statues that honored the important historical figures of Krypton.

As they passed a playground, heading beyond the fourth ring of trees, Lena found herself looking at another statue ahead, with another bright and cheery view of the city’s skyscrapers in the background.

But what caught Lena’s eye this time as they approached the statue wasn’t the beautiful sights, but instead the familiar face staring back at her - proud and noble, holding glowing purple stone. What is this?, Lena thought.

They approached the statue - a small smile crossing Kara’s lips - and Lena’s eyes darted around it, eventually reading the plaque spelling her own name, with a string of kryptonian beneath. Lena could feel the blush crawling up her cheeks at her own confusion, her heart racing in disbelief. “Me?” Lena said softly. “They think I’m a hero?”

“You gave Argo the harun-el,” Kara said. “Every year, the Luthor Festival celebrates the day my mother returned with the recipe.”

The Luthor festival is about me, Lena thought, placing a hand at the base of the statue, realizing that tears were starting to threaten her vision. But she didn’t care. This… this is about me. What I did.

Kara smiled, squeezing Lena’s other hand, seeming to read her thoughts. “You saved all of them, Lena,” Kara said, as Lena’s heart raced, “To my people, the Luthor name is defined by you.”

Lena smiled widely, tears still threatening to spill as she turned into a waiting Kara’s arms, who squeezed her tightly. Lena’s arms wrapped around Kara in return, as she let out a choked laugh, placing her head on Kara’s shoulder as she melted into her. “Thank you for showing me this,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

---------------------------------

This headcanon was first mentioned in Echoes of the Forest, but I felt I wanted to write a ficlet for it. Please also check out this beautiful art I commissioned from @heeeygracie!

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 2

Part 1 2 3

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (dub con, primal play, PIV, rough sex), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: you guys, i dont want to edit the summary from p1 so i wont. also for future me here are the asks i got for this fic [x] [x] [x] which is like 🤯 cos i thought id get 5 notes on this tbh HAHAH originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds

I refused to leave my chambers when I woke.

Not only had I cried myself to sleep, but I had woken with puffy eyes and ended up crying all over again. I was glad that my doting handmaiden was so fiercely loyal to me. Lucy didn't think my weeping childish. She was understanding and eternally on my side. I am immensely grateful for it; I don't know what I would have done without her.

She helped me bathe and dress and eat, then entertained me with gossip from the servants. For a while that was enough.

As the day passed though, my thoughts muddled and left me restless. I could not do anything but obsess over the fact my husband left me after wifing me up.

"Do you think he will come back tonight?" I mutter as I stare blankly at my reflection on the mirror.

Lucy ceases combing my hair and takes my chin in her fingers. Paired with a hand on my shoulder, she silently urges me to straighten my back from my seat. I do just that. She smiles at me through the mirror, "my lady, if you wish it, I will look for him and make him come to you."

I release a breath, "don't be ridiculous."

"I am not being ridiculous," she sets the brush down, "I am being serious."

I feel my throat tighten. My lips quiver but I refuse to break down in tears again. I shake my head rapidly, unwilling to speak, for I knew I would crack if I did.

Lucy frowns in concern then kneels down on my side, grabbing my hand, "my lady, I would die for you."

I screw my eyes shut and break into a whine, "please-"

"I owe you my life," she clasps my hand with hers and brings it to her cheek, "you freed me from my chains. You clothed me, fed me, and showed me kindness none of my masters have ever shown me before," she looks up at me with a solemn expression then repeats, "I would die for you."

I shake my head and lean into her, "live for me, Lucy. I've forgotten what's it was like before you and I don't want to remember."

She kisses my hand and presses her forehead on mine before standing, "I shall do as you command."

She stands behind me and gathers my hair back. She strokes my locks and offers me a smile through the mirror once more. I smile back at her this time around.

The comfort she offers me finally seeps through me as she massages my shoulders.

"I pray the gods will swiftly bless me with a child so that I will have other things to do than await my husband so helplessly and forlorn."

"Well, you said that he pleasured you," Lucy tilts her head, "women who have not been pleasured still bea-

Lucy is cut off by the crashing open of the door. She and I both whip back, hearts in our mouths as we stare at our Lord Clegane, who was staring right back at us.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands. The metal of his armor clanks. I eye the one Lucy tidied to the side, the one I undid the night before, and turn back to him. His brown eyes look at me with such intense accusation.

I feel my hands tremble. I cannot for the life of me find the words to speak. 

What did he even mean? How could he ask me this?

"No one has seen you all day," he says, "have you not left this room once?'

"She 'asn't," Lucy snaps, "milady has been feeling-"

"I wasn't talking to you, wench," the Hound does not turn to her when he says this. His eyes are very much still fixed on me, "I'm talking to my wife."

My wife. I look away. That's right, all that I am now is forfeit to him.

I gasp and turn back when I hear him marching over. Lucy places a protective hand on my shoulder and I find myself cowering into her touch. I clench my jaw and gulp when he stops in front of me.

He gazes upon me for the longest second of my life. He furrows his brows, "what's wrong with your fa-"

I flinch when he reaches out to my cheek.

Instantaneously, Lucy tightens her grip on me and blocks him, and Sandor cuts himself off and recoils before he can even touch my skin. He steps a few paces back then clenches his hand as if he'd gotten burnt.

We both evade each other's gaze. Sandor's eyes finally land on Lucy, "has she been crying?"

Lucy's blood boils. She hisses, "yes," then harshly pronounces, "milord."

Sandor turns away and twitches. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his hands. He knocks on his chest plate. He looks to no one when he asks, "are you hurt?"

Lucy takes no care in masking her scoff or sigh. I take her arm and she watches me shake my head disapprovingly.

I do not look at anyone when I reply either, "I cannot say I'm not... lord husband."

A thick silence builds in the room within a moment.

When I dare too look at the Hound, he is already looking at me and suddenly speaks, "leave us, wench."

I turn to Lucy. She does not move an inch.

I give her an urging shake, but she is steadfast in her spot. Our Lord Clegane turns to her and grinds his teeth, "you will find I do not make habit of repeating myself."

I shoot up from my seat when Lucy presses forward and quips, "and you will find that I will not allow you to treat milady like this."

"Lucy!" I admonish, yanking her back.

Lucy glares daggers at him as I attempt to pacify and persuade her to leave us. Her eyes do not leave him as I sweep her out the room. I instruct her to walk around the gardens for a while then close the door after.

I press my back against the wooden surface as I look back to the man I was now alone with.

Sandor watches me expectantly. I do not say a word, for I did not know what he wanted to hear.

He finally breaks the silence, "you walk well enough."

I am dumbfounded by his choice of words. I dare not respond when I feel my lips quiver; instead, I nod quickly.

Sandor deeply furrows his brows. He shifts on his spot and chances a step in my direction, "why didn't you come out your room then?"

I lick my lips and shake my head. I turn away from him and mutter, "do I appear like I am in the state to be walking around when I look like this?"

"Like what?" he draws nearer.

I whip my head, "THIS!"

Sandor stops in his tracks. He looks at me, expressionless, "this what?"

I scoff in disbelief, feeling tears immediately soak my face. I whisper, "look at me."

"I am, with both eyes."

"And you see nothing?" I mutter shakily, "feel nothing?'

"Should I feel something?"

My chest sinks; it feels like it's caving in. He might as well gut me and spit on my bones. I turn to my feet and wipe my cheeks, "no. I suppose not."

Sandor curses under his breath. He rips at his collar, suddenly feeling his armour weigh down on him. He feels unbelievably hot. He clears his throat, "it hurts."

I look up at him.

"It hurts the first time, usually," he clarifies, "or in times you're not wet enough." He nods, "you were wet enough."

My entire being burns at his words, at his nonchalance. My face is searing in embarrassment and shame.

I want to scream at him, want to hurtle into him and demand to know why he left me, why he was so removed, but then I find the answers in my head. It dawns on me that he acted carelessly because he didn't care. He didn't want this. He didn't want me. All of it was forced. And so I hold my tongue.

Instead, I calmly explain, "my hurt is not bodily, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach rolls at the sound of his name.

"I was," I turn to space between us, "hurt that you left me. And-" I shake my head as tears rush from my eyes, "I've realized now that it's wrong of me to be."

I put a brave face on in spite of my weeping and hold his stare. The man is as stoic and hard as ever. I scoff at myself for feeling this way.

"Worry no longer, Hound," I open the door, "I will not cause you trouble again."

I step back and make way for him to exit.

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity then marches out the door.

"And have you-"

Lucy and I gasp and turn at once.

"-named it yet, Lady Clegane?"

I chuckle guilty, "Lord Varys."

The man nods to me in regard, "good morrow to you."

I curtsy to him, as does my handmaiden. Lucy lifts her skirt as inconspicuously as possible in hopes to block what was behind her.

Varys catches this and waves his hands, "there be no need for that, my dear. The stray is an obedient one, isn't it?"

I share a look with Lucy before we step back and reveal the dog behind us. Daisy was panting and wagging her tail. She had her front paw bent, for it had been broken and healed that way. I had a maester examine it. In the end, he said it was pointless to put a split because it would not fix her leg and Daisy just kept chewing it anyway.

Daisy closes her mouth and sniffs the man.

"Ah," Varys smiles at the creature, "may I pet it?"

Lucy nods and eagerly explains, "she's Daisy; she is incredibly sweet, milord."

Varys cheerfully scratches the crown of the dog's head.

Though he laughs, my own face contorts into an opposite expression, "please make no note of it to my husband."

Varys looks at me exaggeratedly, as though he was offended.

I continue, "she makes me happy."

"One does not need to be told that to know," he presses his lips together. He links his hands, "I imagine you must be rather heavyhearted since the arrival of your womanly bleeding."

I drop my gaze upon hearing this. The master of whispers truly knew all. Lucy turns to me, then back to him, "milord, it's not proper to mention these things."

Varys measures my reaction before turning to Lucy, "yes. I suppose one such as myself has no business speaking of such things." He raises a finger, "still, if you should ever need assistance with that or your stray, know that my services are available to you, my lady."

I smile at him and nod, "I thank you for it, Lord Varys."

With that, he walks away.

"Do you think he will tell him?" Lucy asks as she grabs my arm.

I sigh and turn Daisy.

I've only had her for few days but she's given me purpose. I named her Daisy because she turned up from a bush of daisies while I read in the gardens. I was shocked, puzzled with how she got there, and a little scared she would bite me. When I noticed her injury, I figured she must be very weak and offered her food. She had my heart the moment she licked my fingers.

It was fate, I figured. I had not read in the gardens since the Hound berated me for it, and she came out of nowhere. When I imagine what would have happened to her if anyone else found her, I dread to think of the fact she could have been struck dead. The gods must have sent her to me, to remedy my sorrow and fill in for the absence of my Hound.

I was meant to save Daisy, and she was meant to save me.

I shake my head, "I'll have someone keep her tonight."

The Hound stops in his tracks when he witnesses what he does from afar. A blazing fury engulfs him as he watches two women walk away. The guard, who was spoken to, ogle their figures as they did.

Sandor laughs under his breath, but of course, nothing about this situation was funny to him.

He immediately charges when the guard is left alone, stupidly attending to an open crate-- he'll fucking bash it into his skull.

The guard goes back to his post and spots the approaching giant. At first, he is unfazed by the Hound but fear quickly finds him when he realizes he was heading straight for him.

He does not speak. The Hound simply grabs him by the chest plate, lifts him up and slams him on to the stone wall. He was angry-- worse, he was irrational.

"Why was she speaking to you?!" he snaps, "what business do you have with her?!"

The guard does not waste a second in spilling his guts, "Lady Clegane paid me to watch her dog!" He sounded like he was about to piss his pants.

"What?!" he seethes.

"The crate! The crate! There's a dog in the crate!" 

Sandor shoves him away and walks toward the crate. Lo and behold, the Hound sees the mutt, fur a light shade of brown, tongue out as it pant, right arm curled up.

He draws his sword.

Lucy and I head back to my chambers after eating supper. Our chattering is abruptly cut when he step in and see the Hound's hulking figure.

To say I am shocked is an understatement. I am terrified. He has not come to my chambers since the day after our wedding night, and now, here he was after Lord Varys confronted me. I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat, "my lord, I-"

"Don't you have one too many dogs now?" he growls.

Lucy is unable to hide the sound that leaves her mouth. My eyes begin to water as trepidation rips up my neck. I whisper, "Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He huffs, "what were you doing with it? You playing dolls with it, girl?"

"I saved her!" I explain with a shaky voice. "I fed her, gave her water-"

"Its leg is broken. You keep it in a crate. It's mercy for me to kill it."

Lucy gasps. My stomach drops and I run up to him, "no. Please. Please, tell me you didn't-"

I start when I see something move on the bed. I let out a shaky breath when a bark echoes in the room. I had never been more relieved to see Daisy than now.

Sandor growls, "OFF!" He marches to the bed and charges at the her. I shriek and grab his arm, holding him back. Of course, I nearly shoot forward for what was my strength against his? Still, he turns back to me and huffs. Daisy jumps down the bed and comes to my side.

Lucy grabs her and leads her to the corner of the room.

I continue to beg, "please, don't kill her. Please, I beg of you."

"You pay the guards to watch the mutt," Sandor yanks his arm away; the action hurts my hand. He seethes, "you're better off selling the bitch to a butcher as pig food."

I wail, "it was only this time! I have kept her with me since before." I drop to my knees, "please, I will ask nothing more of you," hot tears burn down all the way down to my chest. "I beg that you just let her live."

Sandor steps back and looks down at me. I can see how pathetic he thinks I am at this moment, and yet I find myself unable to care.

"You will ask me nothing more, aye?" he scoffs. His lips curl, "don't you want a child?"

My expression drops.

"You would rather save the bitch than have a babe?"

I am unable to speak. 

Why is he doing this to me?

"Well?!" he demands.

I screw my eyes shut when some of his spit sputters to my face. I turn to the floor, "she's been keeping me company in your absence. She's-"

"Ah, so that's why she feels so comfortable on the bed. You sleep with her."

I look up at him, about to explain that she sleeps on the floor and has never done that before. I do not have the chance.

"Well then keep your stray," he scoffs, "and have it fuck a babe into you."

The Hound storms off right after.

He grips his hand and his hilt as he marches away.

He should have killed it, he shouldn't have hesitated. The only reason he did was because it didn't flinch at his sword. The mutt was so dumb it had no fear. It even propped on the crate and tried sniffing the steel. Brainless.

His insides feel like they were boiling.

He knew the little girl would weep if he killed it, yet he didn't and there were tears anyway. He curses loudly. It reverberates in the hall.

He should have killed it.

Now it was too late.

"I see you make friends even with stray cats now, my lady."

I look over my shoulder after the cat I was petting runs off because of the voice. Lord Baelish comes up to me, sparing a quick glance to the orange feline that jumped down the wall. He turns back to me with a smile, "pardon me, Lady Clegane, I did not mean to frighten the kitty."

I shake my head, returning a soft smile. I wrap my arms around myself, still not entirely used to the light fabric and freeness of the dresses I've been wearing lately, "it's alright, my lord. The cats do not like people."

Baelish walks in front of me and smiles wider, "they must see you their goddess then."

I shake my head and give a soft chuckle.

"Where is your hound?" he asks.

I stiffen.

He clarifies, "I mean the one with the broken leg."

I release a breath and look out to the view, "I had my handmaiden bathe her."

"Mmm," Baelish looks out to the view with me, "thus why you sought the cats."

A breeze brushes past us.

I do not turn to him, but I know he turns to me. He speaks, "one such as you should not be left alone or unaccompanied."

"Why? Would you hurt me, Lord Baelish?"

He chuckles, "and risk getting mauled by the Hound? I would not."

I watch as a flock of birds fly overhead.

"Other things perhaps," he says.

I do not respond to him.

A moment passes with nothing but looking and silence.

I feel his hot breath when he sighs deeply, "I remember clearly the day I first met you."

Baelish speaks my first name and it's enough to finally make me to turn to him. In truth, my name sounds foreign to me. Who I was has been long overshadowed by Lady Clegane... or, more accurately, the Hound himself.

"You were a vibrant flower. Your fragrance wafted through the room the moment you stepped in," he says, taking one step closer. "Being around you was a privilege; conversing with you, a prize."

I blink at his words, taking in the lines of his face, "and now," I clasp my hands together, "I've withered away, have I?"

His Baelish-blue eyes appear to be solemn. My lips part when he takes my hands in his. He speaks under his breath, "you are more radiant than ever."

I do not move an inch.

"Take heart," he speaks my name again, "hounds are crushed under heels of goddesses."

I pull away from him and shake my head, "do not speak blasphemy with me."

He laughs, bringing his hands behind him, "ever devout and god-fearing." He raises an arm, "shall we part ways by the stables? I will be heading out of the keep."

I debate for a moment. Ultimately, I offer polite smile and decide to agree.

We walk with no sense of urgency. I never knew Petyr to be one for small talk, and so I am surprised that he asks me about my dresses. In truth, I really shouldn't have been.

"Your dresses are Dornish, are they not?" he raises a brow.

"Dornish-like," I clarify, "it was my usual tailor that made my new dresses. I feared if I asked a Dornish tailor for a modest silhouette, I'd be colder than I am now."

We share a soft laugh.

He shrugs, "the style suits you still," he smiles. "Undoubtedly, the Dornes would love to dress you in their more traditional clothing."

I purse my lips and raise my brows, "wouldn't you like that, Petyr?"

He chuckles, slightly in disbelief by the casual referral. He raises his hands, "I said the Dornes. I am not Dornish, my dear."

When we reach the stables, I stop in my tracks, not because we're about to depart, but because his words freeze me in my spot.

"Surely, our Lord Clegane finds it hard to keep his hands off you."

I do my best to stay neutral, to not give myself away. Baelish holds back a smirk.

"Wouldn't you like to know what me and Lord Clegane get up to?"

Baelish laughs, "if I'm being honest, I do."

I roll my eyes at him and nod dismissively, "farewell, my lord."

He nods back with a chuckles, "and you, my lady."

I promptly head to my chambers after this. As I walk on, however, I remember that another day has passed with me not seeing Lord Clegane. I am unsure if it was deliberate or coincidental, but it was the fact either way.

It had been a handful of days since my monthly bleeding passed. I was never a regular bleeder, and when it came this time around, it stayed longer than usual. I was glad with his absence then, in not needing to explain myself to my him. The moment it had finished, however, I expected I would at least see him once.

I did not.

This lead to my decision to be more... seductive.

And, well yes, or course, he yelled at me and told me to have my bitch fuck me instead-- truly, there was a large pit of dread in my stomach because of this, but people say a lot of things in anger, things they don't mean. He could not have meant that.

I rub my belly, willing the dread away.

I refuse to believe he meant that.

I suck in a breath and decide to head to the king's chambers.

Besides, I've been assured over and under that men really like making babies.

My breath hitches when I catch sight of the Hound, guarding the door. I see him do a double take when he spots me, and yet he gazes into space in the end.

"Good evening, my lord," I curtsy at him.

He grunts with exasperation, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted," I measure my words carefully, "to request you not stay out late tonight."

The man turns his head fully to me, "what?"

I feel my throat itch. I clear my throat, "I was hoping that you come to my chambers before too late."

Sandor shifts in his spot. He eyes me up and down. I feel like I am being burned alive under his gaze.

He looks away and shifts back in place.

I open my mouth but I don't get to speak at all.

"Dog. Dog! Come inside, I-" King Joffrey calls but then ceases when he steps out of the room and sees me. 

I immediately curtsy, "my king. Good evening."

Joffrey raises a brow and demands to know why I'm here, referring to me by the house I was born into.

I offer him a smile, "I wanted to speak to my lord husband, your grace."

His face contorts in deep bewilderment. He opens his mouth and raises a finger, "why would you come h-" he turns to the Hound and stops himself. He breaks into a laugh. He laughs so hard that he clutches his stomach, "oh!" He wheezes, "oh, I've forgotten about that!"

King Joffrey calms down with a sigh. He from to his Kingsguard then to me, eyeing my attire. He chuckles under his breath as his eyes rake me down, "I see your wife has dressed to seduce you, dog." His looks up to my face, "or wouldn't that make you bitch?"

I do not respond for a moment, put on the spot by his malice, but then my wits finally meet me. I curtsy to the king, "I am what my king makes me to be."

Joffrey laughs airily. He shakes his head, "my, dog," he turns to his guard, "I've truly matched you well," he pats his shoulder plate, "too well, in fact."

He then retreats into his chambers, calling out as he did, "you're dismissed, dog. Breed your bitch as you like."

The door slams shut.

I release a breath once the king leaves, clutching my belly as I did so.

Sandor does not move an inch from his spot. He does not look at me.

I begin to get nervous all over again. I try, "husband?"

"You think I'll answer to your whistle just because you're dressed like a whore?"

My face hardens. I look away from him. I mean I expected as much.

I swallow the lump in my throat, "I only wanted to please you-"

He scoffs.

I look back at him, "I will dress more modestly if it is what you'd like."

"I'd like not to see you whoring around."

I am unable to withhold my scoff, "I am what my lord makes me out to be."

The Hound finally spares me a glance. I glare at him as I curtsy, "apologies for the impertinence." I turn on my heels and walk away. My anger and vexation gets the best of me. I cannot help but jeer, "if my dress angers you so, take it off me then."

Sandor shifts on his spot.

I continue down the hall.

His lips curl as he growls lowly, "run."

I do not hear anything but my own grumbling.

"Run, little girl!" he barks, making me jolt and turn back to him with a scowl. The irritation is apparent in my face as I stop at the end of the hall, "what?"

The Hound begins to march over. My heart races as I hear him warn, "run, if you know what's good for you"

I begin to shuffle back.

"I'll tear that shit off your body when I catch you."

I break into a sprint at the sound of his threat.

I don't look back. I heave heavily as I rush down the halls. I don't hear him chasing after me, though once I'm far, I see him treading fast as the times he's dragged me by the arm. My stomach flurries with anxiousness and regret.

When I reach my chambers, I mentally debate whether or not I should lock the door. I gulp at the idea of him breaking it down. I decide I do not want a memory such as that to be branded into my brain.

I gasp when he bursts into the room. I grip my skirts from the edge of the bed where where I sat.

The Hound locks the door before walking over to me. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me down on my belly.

I squeak when he grabs my skirts and rips it all the way up my ribs. He scoffs, "fucking parchment."

I hear him grab something by my vanity. I do not dare to look at him. I proceed to hear him undo his armor and his clothes.

I hear a pop. I yelp when he grabs my smallclothes and yanks them down. I groan into the cushions when I feel his fingers toy with my folds.

"Don' fink you nee' vis," he speaks like something was in his mouth. He pulls his hand away and suddenly the smell of my lavender oil assaults my senses. I hear a squelch. Something is thrown to my side; it's my vial.

I squeak when he grabs my hips. He sighs, "you're ready on your own." We both make noises when he begins to thrust into me. The Hound growls, "little girl likes to be chased."

I am shoved into the cushions. My entire body tenses.

"You want to dress like a whore," he taunts, "I'll fuck you like a whore."

His tempo is brutal and harsh. He does not relent or give me leeway. It's strange and shameful that my body even feels tingles of pleasure.

I cannot help the screams that rip out of my throat. Had I not been faced down on the cushion, I fear that I would have woken the dead.

I call out his name when he hoists my hips up. My toes could no longer touch the floor. He begins moving faster. My hands dig into the sheets. I feel my eyes water.

The Hound howls. He shoves me down and suddenly my feet are on the ground. He plunges deep, it makes my eyes roll back. His thrusts become increasingly irregular and after with a few more slaps, he stops.

I catch my breath, thanking the gods he's shown mercy.

I whine when I feel him pull away. I gulp and shift on my spot. I anticipate his next movements. I hear a rustle. I lift my head up and look back at him, confused by the sight of him tying himself up.

Was... was it done?

"Don't think to have that dress mended, girl," he pants as he grabs something from the floor. I roll on my back, feeling uneasy because of the wetness between my thighs. I watch him unlock the door and slam the door on his way out.

All hells were breaking loose. King's Landing was under attack, the castle was on fire, and Stannis Baratheon was winning.

All the women and children holed up in the queen's retreat chamber spilled out to gods know where.

My mind was racing, yet all I could think was: run, flee, Lucy, Daisy, Hound.

I was already running. I was already fleeing. I was doing both with Lucy in my grip. I had Lucy, but I did not have Daisy.

We were running up to my chambers. I left Daisy there, my poor Daisy. We were fleeing up the stairs in haste, sparing no time to catch a breath.

I had no idea what we were to do. We could bar the door, block it with our bed. Lucy and I could manage it, I think. Was it a good idea? Would it guarantee our safety? There was only one way we'd know.

I quickly open the door and lock it once Lucy and I are inside.

We take a moment to finally catch our breath. Lucy grabs my arms and I grab hers. I can feel her shaking. I rub her skin, "it will be alright. No harm will reach us here."

Lucy shakes her head, "milday, you and me both know that's not true."

My heart shatters when I catch the way her eyes water. "Shhh," I pull her into a hug, "have I ever failed you, Lucy?"

She seals her arms around me and whispers, "no."

"Nothing will happen to us," I rub her back, "I will protect you."

"And I, you," she pulls away, "as will Daisy," she wipes her tears before they fall, "and the 'ound."

We scream when we hear a voice in the room. We press our back against the wall and turn to the bed. A figure is sat on the floor by its side. What was said was, "your mutt is stupid."

Lucy and I clutch each other for dear life. I recognized that voice. I muster the courage to tiptoe towards the figure and breathe out shakily when I confirm the presence, "Sandor?"

The man turns to me as we walk up to him. Sandor had Daisy on his lap. She looked up and blinked at me before closing her eyes. She was being pet a bloody hand and did not mind at all.

"She was jumped on me when I walked in. She looked excited," he turns to Daisy, "stupid bitch. Anyone else would have chopped her up."

I find myself releasing a breath of relief. Here now was Daisy, and Hound. I had nothing left to think about.

I walk up to him, kneeling on his side. He turns to me. I examine his face, dirtied and bloodied, "are you hurt?"

He looks at me for a moment. I watch him slowly raise his hand. He cautiously touches my cheek. I clutch his wrist in my hands. He swipes his thumb on my skin, "save your tears." I didn't even know I shed them. "None of the fuckers got close enough to try."

He draws his hand back. He grunts as he gets to his feet. Daisy moves back, wobbling on her three legs; I move back too.

"Take your valuables," the Hound grunts, "we're fucking leaving."

I pull my head back. I watch the man survey the room.

Lucy runs up to my side and she wipes my cheek with her skirt. She watches the red collect on the fabric and wonders who it belonged to. She wagers it's not from her lord.

I shake my head in confusion as Sandor grabs a satchel and stuffs my jewelry in it, "I don't understand. Aren't you going to fight?"

"Fuck the fight," he quips as he shoves objects down and raids through the drawers and closets.

Lucy finishes wiping my face. I walk off and grab all my hidden pouches of gold. I hand it to Sandor, "what about the king?"

"Fuck the king," he takes the pouches and stuffs it into the bag, "fuck him especially."

Sandor then chucks the satchel to Lucy, who grunts when she catches it.

"The stupid fuck's done nothing but fuck around," he picks up Daisy, propping her front legs on his shoulder, "no good thing's come from that fuck." He takes me by the hand and mumbles, " 'cept for one."

He releases me only to unlock the door and hold me again. He does not let me go until we reach the outside of the keep.

The whole lot was in disarray; dead bodies, debris, and fire littered the scene. He hands me Daisy, and I struggle slightly to carry her, considering she was not a small breed. He walks not too far off and brings a wandering horse over.

It's a wonder we do not encounter anyone on this side of the castle, more so that we find a horse.

Sandor takes Daisy and puts her down before helping me mount the steed. My stomach rolls with how his touch lingered on my thigh once I was on.

Next, he took the satchel from Lucy and handed it to me. He then eyed her when she stepped forward, as if debating whether or not he wanted to bring her along. Before she or I could speak up about it, Sandor is already helping her climb up behind me. Lucy takes the satchel from me and eyes him after. He rolls his eyes.

He picked up Daisy and tried handing her to me. However, she struggled too much and could not fit in my arms, so he cursed and threw her back onto his shoulders. He grabbed the horse's reins and started walking.

"Fucking bitch, fucking wench, fucking horse, fucking war, fucking-"

[azen13]

Since Dan Heng is getting a rerun right now, do you have any yan thoughts about him?? He’s so silly…

CW: Yandere Themes

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He is so silly...I do love Dan Heng, he was actually my first main in HSR! I don't think I've posted much of him here though because I have literally no idea about any of the Xianzhou lore sldkjsdgsdg so bear with me lol.

I'm going to make a distinction between Dan Heng and Dan Feng here, as I think the two would have vastly different approaches to how they interact with a love interest. If we're talking about straight canon, the only thing that's changed is that Dan Heng is a yandere, then I think he's extremely subtle about it. First, because that's just his personality. Dan Heng isn't prone to histrionics; he's more practical. Second, because if he isn't, Himeko or Welt could notice, and then who knows what would happen. They might take you away from him, and he can't have that.

So he has to play it cool, keep his obsession undetectable. It shows up in small ways: how he always makes sure to be by your side during missions, even when the Trailblazer and March run off; how he lets you stay in his room whenever you'd like, even if it's just to hang out; how he holds your hand tightly whenever danger approaches, to the point where by now, your palm must be molded to the shape of his fingers. In a similar vein, he works to slowly mold your mind, doing his best to convince you that you can come to him with any problems or worries and he'll help you.

He starts making entries for you in the databank, chock full of your likes and dislikes, your habits, your routine, everything and anything. It's a strange hobby he almost seems to take pleasure in, compiling everything he knows about you. Anytime he learns something new, best believe he'll be heading off to his room to write it down and save it for later. Eventually, he starts using all of that information to his advantage: you like a certain scent? Soon enough, Dan Heng vaguely smells like it. You enjoy hugs? Dan Heng will awkwardly try to fold his arms around you back. You have a favorite food? Dan Heng makes it for you almost daily, until he's mastered it.

I will say he definitely struggles to fight against the draconic urge to hoard you away in his room. To try to tamp down that need, he develops a bad habit of stealing your belongings. Nothing big, just things you might not notice if they go missing. A piece of paper you scribble on, a pen cap that you chew on, a sock forgotten in the recesses of a dryer. He stows it away safely, somewhere nobody will ever find.

One day, he'll do the same with you. Only you'll come alone willingly.

[halfbloodfics]

Gentle dom! snape headcanons

Hi im procastinating the number of requests in my inboxes so until I get around to them, have another headcanon post to tie you over.

warnings: NSFW, smutty, minors DNI, mentions of kinks

I've written quite a bit of sub!snape fics that now I'm starting to miss dom!snape.

I'd like to preface this by saying that these are obviously just headcanons. Personally, I think severus is likely very sexually reserved, due to both trauma and honestly, isolation. I don't see him as being this overtly sexual person, as everything within him from canon, in books and the movies, shows him as very conservative and reserved. His clothing, his skills in occlumency, his facial expressions... everything about himself is very, reserved and controlled.

So I find that important to preface this by saying, that anything specifically kinky, especially dominant, would take a lot of time and patience coming from sev. I think at first, sex would definitely be more gentle, passionate, loving thing, if not a tad bit submissive.

However after awhile, once he becomes more comfortable, I can see him beginning to get more confident with his sexuality and more sure in the fac that you really want him. I can see his nerves slowly fading away into that kind of repressed longing and desire that he's denied himself for so long. I can also see him enjoying this because his whole life, he was so powerless. I mean, constantly being used as a pawn in a game that was bigger than him, obeying a different master.. I think it would be nice to be the one with the control for once.

Also this is specifically for gentle dom! snape, so there will be another one for hard dom! snape. Anyways enough yappin, here are the headcanons.

~

The first time he doms

I need to write a fic on this tbh, but I imagine it starts off by him relising how much you actually need him

The concept of you, needing him; of someone needing him that way, craving him?? Insane. he craves it. he wants it. he wants to hear it. see it.

I think something would have to happen for him to really realise this, either you admitting that you've masterbated to him... or maybe even him accidentaly catching you in the act.. Picturing/seeing you touching yourself, you wishing it was him, moaning his name, drives him wild

Something switches in him, where as before he might be flustered, embarassed, even ashamed. now he simply stands there.. watching, still... until he moves approaches

Then I imagine he's asking you if you were thinking about him.. and then specifically what you were thinking of...

And then he gives you exactly what you were asking for.. Or tells you to keep going while he watches

Once he's more comfortable... here are my headcanons about

Kissing

When he's in a dom mode, making it just does something to him. I mean in general, any sort of touch does something to him; but french kissing, hearing you moan into the kiss?? Gripping the back of your head?? Your throat?? That man kisses you like he's drowning.

Kinks

Names: I think, as a gentle dom, he wouldn't like to be called any names other than his name. I think the big part for him, is that much needed ego boost that you need HIM

I think he's very big on you saying his name, making you say it again and again, asking you who you belong to, who's making you feel that good, etc

Speed? I think it's usually a steady pace, depending on the day and what you need/want. I don't think he's afraid of going fast or rough, but not slapping, choking, or heavy degrading.

Bondage: I think he would however, be into being on top of you, pinning you down with his body in some way. Restraining you, with himself. Perhaps sometimes, using something to tie you up or tie your hands behind your back, but for the most part I imagine he likes using his hands, holding your wrists behind your back, pinning them above your head, beside your head, pinning your hips down to stop you from squirming, that sorta thang

Praise: especially as gentle dom, he loves to praise you. I don't imagine he's very vocal, but I do imagine he talks you through it. Praising you as you take him, as you orgasm. I don't think as a gentle dom, he would be interested in degrading you

Begging: slight begging, I think he more so wants to take care of you as a gentle dom, make you feel good. I think he'd find it attractive, once again as an ego and control thing, that you're begging for him, but I think he'd give in quite easily as a gentle dom

Idk what this is called but instructing you how to masterbate? Him sitting on the edge of the bed, or standing across the room... Telling you exactly how fast to go, how many fingers to use, how to touch yourself etc.

Positions

Missionary: gentle dom sev LOVES missionary and you can't convince me otherwise. He still gets all the fun parts of being dom, being on top of you, being able to pin you down, but he also gets to see ALL of you.. Your reactions, your body, your eyes

Doggy: I think this is more for hard dom snape tbh, which is a whole other post of its own. But I really, truly think he'd love this one. Pinning your shoulders down, leaning over you, taking you from the back... Or pinning your wrists behind your back while he yk.. Gripping your chin, whispering praise in your ear.. Yeah

Spooning: I also think he's like this one, especially as a gentle dom, cause it's still dominant for him, but you also both get to be comfy and in bed. And he gets to wrap his arms around you, hold you. It's romantic, dominant, gentle, all in one

Oral: As a gentle dom, I can see him liking recieving oral more than him being a switch. I still think he prefers to give, but I imagine that he likes to have you on your knees, his hand in your hair, just gently guiding your movements, praising you the entire time

Misc

Clothing: I think he loves being clothed while you're naked, not only does it make him more comfortable, he also gets to see all of you and it kinda adds to the power vibe. However, seeing you in any type of slightly revealing clothing does something to him. Even if it's just a little tight, or if your shirt is a little low.. He's spent his entire life ruling with an iron fist over his emotions and now somehow its crumbling all because of a damn scoop neck t-shirt. Mans could fight voldemort but not the power of tiddies. Also really loves nightgowns.

Moans: He loves hearing you. any type of sounds at all, even the slightest gasp to you crying out for him. It makes him want to hear more. especially if you're moaning his name. I don't imagine he moans much, more so small grunts and groans

He's a boob guy. For sure. That's it.

Aftercare: He is very, set on aftercare. Always. Especially after he has been dom. Even if he hasn't been rough, he knows aftercare is important. Brings you water, makes sure you drink it. Makes sure you use the washroom after. Holds you, praises you.

And i think thats it, for now, though I'll probably come up with more eventually.

Cheerio

xx

[certainlynotasimp]

Just A Bite.

(Miguel O' Hara x Female! Reader)

A/N: Hello~ I got another Miggy and Sunny post for my beloved readers, and I think you'll like it. I'm still working on the request too, but I had this idea and I had to write it. Also if you want to be notified about this series, please leave a comment on this post, and if you wanna read more then check out my master list.

Also thank you guys for 100 followers! I really appreciate you guys so much and I hope you all stay with me on this journey!

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barley any use of (Y/N) ((Sunny is a nickname, not her name)), Female pronouns, Miguel being a teasing mf, Gwen being a snoopy spider, Establish Relationship?, Fluff, a little break in canon, and Google translate Spanish ((please give me critique if you guys are fluent in Spanish because I don't know how to speak it.))

Still haven't seen the movie yet so excuse any inaccuracies.

“So are they?” Jessica stops picking at her salad as the younger SpiderWoman peers over her shoulder.

Turning her head slightly, it didn’t take her long to discover what the young protégé’s attention is focused on. 

The signature blue costume hugged the tall Spiderman as he stood several feet away from them. His normally dangerous talons were hidden by the two trays of food in each hand. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance as he seems to be hyperlinked on something. It didn’t take long before Jessica figured out who she needed to spot as the source of Miguel’s irritation. 

The black and white costume of the tiny spider caught her eyes first before she realizes that Peter B. Parker had enamored her attention away from Miguel.

 Well, not so much him, but the one-month-old Mayday Parker had the Spider Society's sunshine orbiting around her. Her little hand grasps around the digit of an older woman as Sunny cooes. A look of awe and sadness filled her eyes as the whole world seemed to disappear around her.

“Are they what?” Jessica asks as she turns her attention back to her lunch, mildly groaning as her little bug certainly didn’t appreciate the diet their daddy put them on. 

“Is Miguel and (Y/N) together?” Gwen repeats her question as she analyzes Miguel’s body language.

It was odd to Gwen as Miguel appeared to be annoyed that he had to hold their plates while waiting on her, but he didn’t make a move to say to rush along the tiny spider. In fact, Gwen nearly choked on her drink as she sees the longing gaze in his garnet eyes.

“To be honest…” Jessica catches Gwen’s attention again as she starts packing away her now empty tray with trash. “I’ve been a part of the Society for a long time, but Sunny was here before I was. Her and Miguel are kinda a packaged deal, but I have no idea if they are together.” Gwen tilts her head with a confused look on her face. She knew the older Spiderwoman was one of the first members of the Society when Miguel created it, but she didn’t know the cheery spider was here longer than Jess. 

“She was here before you?”

“She was here before all of us.” Peter interrupts as he plops in the seat next to Gwen. The infant was now quietly sleeping against her father’s chest with webbing holding her up. Peter steals one of Gwen’s french fries off of her tray as Gwen looked annoyed by him. “Miss Sunshine was the first spider Miguel recruited from what I heard, and I should know.” He plops the fry into his mouth as he chats. “I was the second.”

Jessica chuckles at Gwen’s shocked face at the realization as to how long the futuristic spider man has had his cheery companion. “Little bit wants to know if the big guy and Sunny are a thing or not?” Peter raises an eyebrow as he teases Gwen, “Why? You got a crush on one of them?”

“Ew, no. They are old and I’m 16. It's just they are always together and they seem like a couple, but they don’t do normal couple things.” Gwen whines as her face burns in embarrassment.

“First off, they are not old.” Peter scoffs as he runs a hand through his own graying hair. “Miguel is 28 and Sunny just turned 27.”

Jessica giggles as a memory pops into her mind. The look on Miguel’s face when his smaller companion brought him a cake she made for his birthday will forever be Jessica’s favorite moment since joining this team. Well, the second greatest moment. The slight teary-eyed look the leader gave to the bouncing spider as he had to endure her butchering the birthday song was also very funny. At least she can cook better than she can sing.

“And adult relationships aren’t like the ones you’ve seen in high school.” Peter sighs as he remembers the regretful decisions he made in high school. “They aren’t gonna make out in the hallways or tell each other that they love each other every five minutes.” “So they are together?” Gwen slaps Peter’s hand away from her fries, which causes the baby to stir. Peter hastily bounces the baby as he throws Gwen a glare.

“Oh, I have no idea,” Peter answers honestly as Gwen plops her head on the table. “Why don’t you ask them?”

Jessica smiles fondly as Mayday stares at Peter as he finally starts eating his own food. Her hand wanders to the growing baby bump as she looks into Gwen’s frustrated gaze. “Never hurts to ask. But I suggest asking Sunny because Miguel will deny everything.”

~~~~

“Miss. (Y/N), are you dating Spiderman?” Gwen rehearses to herself as she wanders down the corridor, trying to find her cheery colleague. Gwen groans as rubs her face in frustration, hating all the ideas she came up with sounded childish. How do you ask a grown woman if she is dating her boss? Especially if you’re mutant superheroes who travel to different dimensions and fight anomalies in bright spider costumes.

Just as Gwen rounds a corner, a series of grunts fall into her ears as she draws closer to the combat simulator. One of Lyla’s ideas for the HQ was to include a training room with the ability to use advanced AIs to simulate how fighting in different dimensions. She also thought it would be a fun idea to make it a level system so Miguel can review their abilities and hand out missions appropriate for the skill sets. Gwen attempted to fight in there several times, but she always gets her ass handed to her once she reaches level 3. 

Reaching the door, she peers into the window and sees a disheveled Miguel as he stood in his spider suit in a barely lit simulation. His back to her, she can see his shoulders heave as he pants for a breath of relief in this difficult setting. Despite his lack of spidey sense, Gwen knew he was pretty agile and was one of the strongest Spidermen they had. His talons emerge as his mask disintegrates. His fangs shine in the dim lighting as he looks around the room, looking for something. 

Hunting for something.

She ducks when Miguel looks her way before peeking her head back up. Before she can realize what’s going on, a flash of white gets whipped at the menacing spider, causing him to shred the opposing webbing to bits. Miguel focuses on the direction the attack came from as a smirk rolls onto his face as he approaches his invisible prey. His eyes a dangerous red as his mischief and hunger grows at the anticipation.

“¿Dónde estás, mi pequeña araña?” The predator purrs as his gaze locks on a particular corner. Gwen could barely hear it, but a faint sound of panting, of his prey trying to catch her breath. “No me dejarías esperando demasiado, ¿verdad? Extraño desesperadamente tu dulce rostro, querida.”

Miguel saunters slowly towards the faint sound, a glint of victory shining in his eyes as the smell of her perfume floats into his nose. His smirk turns into a deviously sweet smile as he cracks the bones in his hand. “Especialmente cuando estás gimiendo tan dulcemente debajo de mí…” He mumbles as he finally lunges toward the corner. Gwen puts a hand in her mouth to hide the gasp as he pounces but tilts her head in confusion as his hunt turns sour.

Miguel looks equally stunned for a moment when he realizes that nothing was in his grasp. He pats around the corner to make sure before his hand gets caught on something. He growls as he tries to free his hand upon realizing that it was a trap. A flash of white traps the other hand to the wall above the other as the air rings with giggles. 

“Caught you, Miggy!~” A voice cheers from above as both Miguel and Gwen look up to the ceiling. In a faint glow of green, the victorious smile of the small jumping spider appears out of thin air. Unexpectedly, Miguel meets her smile with a warm chuckle as the hints of a smile appear on his face. “You certainly did, little one.” He sighs as the woman hops down and lands in a crouch position in front of him. Gwen smiles at the adorable display until the older woman leaned over to Miguel’s shoulder. Miguel flinches slightly with a flush of red covering his face as Gwen realizes what just happened.

‘Did she just bite him?!’ Gwen thought as she stared at the smiling duo in bewilderment. 

“Think its going to leave a mark?” He commented as he watches in amusement as his sunshine glares at him.

“It better! Yours are gonna take forever to heal.” She huffs as she stands up. Miguel rolls his eyes and chuckles at her attempt to appear annoyed. 

“It's not that bad…” “NOT THAT BAD?!” Sunny blurts out, interrupting the amused man.

The top part of her costume disintegrates, exposing her tank top underneath as Gwen had to stop herself from shouting in shock. Littering the small spider’s frame were 5 large bruising bite marks, each featuring two distinct puncture wounds. Gwen looks up at the panel beside the door and sees they are on level 6 of 1v1 combat simulation. The realization dawns on the teenager as her face turns an unflattering shade of red. Before she can witness anymore, Gwen teleports out of the corridor as the duo sees the flash of orange. 

“What was that?”

“I don’t know, but whoever it was is gonna be on trash duty for a month”

~~~~~

“So you ever asked her about if she and Miguel are-”

“No, and I’ll never try to figure that out again.”

~~~~~~

A/N: Please please let me know what else you guys wanna see or throw me some critiques. I love hearing from you all!!

~~~~~~

Taglist:

@ameliadraws 

@tojisrightnut

@whyareyoubored

@silly-lovestruck-em

@luvil1y

@chims-kookies

@himesuedi

@22carolina08

[olsenmyolsen]

Swimming Lessons

Art By: @1005__H on twitter! I commissioned them after having this idea! They're wonderful!

Art By: @auroraromaximoff They're looking for more commissions and loved making this art after hearing my idea! They're super nice. Please check them out and give them a follow!

maroon master list . dark master list . request marvel master list . short n’ sweet master list

Non-Canon - Post Hawkeye - (Bishova)

Summary: Kate does her best to teach her former Black Widow girlfriend, Yelena, how to swim.

Word Count: 1.4K

Content: Yelena hates the beach, Married WandaNat, Lucky is a good dog

"Kate Bishop!" Yelena whined for the millionth time today. "I told you I don't know how to swim!"

Kate, still baffled by this recent revelation, dropped her girlfriend Yelena Belova onto her feet near the crashing waves of the private beach rented for the day.

"I still don't understand that! A part of me still doesn't believe you." Kate said through her sunglasses as she eyed the more petite blonde. "How does a former black widow assassin not know how to swim!?" Kate questioned as she threw her arms up.

With her arms by her side and green floaties on her arm, Yelena stomped her feet in the hot sand. "I told you I was a child assassin on a mission that week!"

"Ten bucks says Kate gets Yelena into the water before we leave today." Natasha Romanoff, Yelena's sister, said to her wife, Wanda Maximoff-Romanoff, as they watched the two from afar on the porch of the rental house for the weekend getaway.

Kate's pizza dog Lucky by their feet.

"Natasha!" Wanda gasped before slapping her wife's arm. "You can't do that!" She then shook her head and looked back to see Yelena lying on the sand, distracting Kate with a story about how she sniped a former secretary of state.

Wanda sighed. "Fine. You're on." Natasha laughed and sipped her iced tea. "Double or nothing?" She then asked with a coy smile. "Not a chance."

"Wow, how long did you stay in the crawl space of that apartment?" Kate asked, fully involved in Yelena's story as they slowly started building sand castles before remembering what her original plan was. "Wait- don't answer that- damn it, Yelena!" She sighed and scolded her girlfriend before standing up and shaking the sand off of her. "I'm teaching you to swim!"

Yelena looked down at the sand buildings before her and back up to her girlfriend. "But... but I'm busy." She said with a pout, making Kate grab her by her arm and hoist her up. Yelena stumbled. Always surprised by Kate's strength.

"Yelena, I didn't spend all the time putting sunscreen on you for you to not get in the water!"

Yelena crossed her arms over herself in her two-piece. The floaties on her arms making squeaking noises. "But what about sharks?"

"There are no sharks," Kate said, standing behind Yelena and beginning to push her into the sand. Yelena's feet dragged and made lines in the sand behind her heels. "You don't know that." Yelena countered.

"You don't know that either."

"Shit," Yelena whispered. "Okay but what if... what if you get swept out by a current!? I can't save you!" Yelena brought up a pretty solid reasoning in her mind.

But Kate would die trying to get Yelena to do anything. So if some all-mighty power thought that it should be because she's trying to teach Yelena how to swim, then so be it.

Although that would definitely traumatize Yelena for life.

Oh well.

"I won't get swept out, Yelena. I'm going to be with you the whole time. I promise." As those words left Kate, Yelena planted her feet into the sand and turned around to her dark-haired girlfriend. "Promise?" Kate nodded with a breath. "I promise." Yelena searched Kate's eyes for any doubt, but she knew she wouldn't find any. So she nodded, turned, and stepped closer and closer to the water.

"We can go slow," Kate said, step in step with the blonde as the tide rushed over their feet before being dragged out. Yelena jumped back. "Why is it cold!? It's in the sun all day!"

Kate couldn't help but think that that was a good point, and she didn't have an answer for Yelena. "I don't know, but it'll get warmer the longer you're in it."

Yelena looked up at her girlfriend's face before slowly lifting a hand for Kate to take. The taller of the two smiled and took her hand as her other one came to rest of Yelena's back.

Another wave crashed onto their feet, making Yelena laugh lightly as the sand was being pulled from under her feet. "That feels funny." Kate couldn't help but smile and laugh with her. "It does." She agreed as they walked further and further out.

"Damn it," Wanda said as she got up to go retrieve $10 from her purse back inside the house. Natasha watched her wife with a smile. "I told you."

"I told you." Wanda mocked back.

Natasha just shook her head and turned to Lucky, lying flat against the wooden porch. "Oof. Looks like I won't be getting any tonight."

Lucky let out an exaggerated huff from his nose before his ears shot up to the sounds of laughter coming from the shore, making him get up and run to Kate and Yelena.

Natasha watched the dog take off before her eyes found Kate holding Yelena up and over a wave.

The water now thigh-high.

"Ahh!!" Yelena screamed with joy as Kate set her back now and let a wave crash into them.

"It makes me walk funny," Yelena yelled with a smile as the wet sand below her feet gave out, making her stumble a tad. Kate nodded and grabbed the blonde's hand. "Come on, there's a sand bar a little further."

"Sand bar?" Yelena quietly asked before looking around. She didn't see any drinks or people. Yet she followed Kate as Lucky splashed into the water, swimming up to them.

Not caring about the waves.

"Oh, that's why it's called Doggy Paddle," Yelena said as she waded through the water behind Kate. The water slowly rising up her body with every step. As it got past her stomach and some faded scars that's when Yelena slowly began to worry.

"Kate, it's getting deeper..."

Kate Bishop opened her mouth to make a joke before her eyes saw the tiny ounce of fear Yelena had in them. Kate quickly moved to Yelena's side again as Lucky watched them as he swam by to the sand bar.

"Show off," Yelena grumbled, making Kate tilt her head disapprovingly. "Yelena, that's not very nice." Yelena kept her mouth closed as she slowly moved her arms in front of her with Kate's help.

Listening carefully to Kate's instructions.

Swimming more and more as, her feet began to touch the ocean floor less and less. The waves became calmer the further out they went, which helped Yelena and her nerves.

Until.

"Kate Bishop!" Yelena exclaimed as she no longer had her footing, forcing Yelena's mind to short-circuit.

This was it. She was going to drown. She was going to sink. Lucky was on the sandbar watching and was probably laughing at Yelena as she floundered her arms up and down like a mad woman. Yelena knew she had the floaties on, but amid panic, she couldn't think as her feet kicked nothing but water. She opened her mouth to call for her girlfriend's help, but the water went right down her throat due to her own body moving rapidly up and down.

(also, Kate was right there the whole time watching Yelena. Yelena made it sound WAY more dramatic.)

Yelena screamed and coughed up the salty water as Kate wrapped an arm around the blonde and moved her two feet back to where Yelena could touch again.

Yelena sighed and caught her breath again. "I almost died! That would not have been a cool way to die!" Yelena sounds almost disgusted by this. "I was right there. I had you." Kate said with a smile to Yelena, making the blonde swallow and nod while looking out to the ocean before looking back at Kate with her lips curling into a smile. "Thank you."

Kate nodded and swam beside Yelena, who floated with her arms lifted up. "Of course." Kate kissed the blonde's cheek as Lucky swan up to them. Splashing them, making Kate laugh before flicking a small wave of water towards Yelena.

Yelena narrowed her eyes after the initial shock. "Count your blessing, my widow bites are not waterproof." Kate laughs loudly at Yelena's unwavering tone before Yelena splashes Kate back.

Natasha and Wanda continue smiling while laughing and placing bets on Yelena and Kate for the rest of the day.

And when the sun began to dip in the distance, Yelena and Kate walked hand in hand along the beach.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[osamucide]

DAZAI HCS! ⊹

LAST UPDATE: OCT 10

cw: talk of mental illness and substance use/abuse, speculation about Dazai’s f’ed up past+trauma, Dazai-typical references to suicide, references to self harm, probably a lot of projection on the author’s part

reid: i feel like yapping about Dazai tonight so here’s a non-exhaustive list of general headcanons i have about him. no word count because i’ll probably update this periodically lol

he does not listen to music from this century. he just doesn’t. not that he goes out of his way not to, he’s just drawn to a certain sound that only older music seems to have—I think The Smiths, Blondie, Tears For Fears, The Smashing Pumpkins, King Crimson, and Led Zeppelin are among his favorite artists

I think he also really enjoys classic jazz/blues/bebop music—Charles Mingus, Billie Holiday, Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, etc.

he’s anemic. I’m of the firm belief that Kunikida buys him a 100 ct bottle of iron tablets every 100 days which Dazai always graciously accepts. however, he only actually takes them when he gives enough of a shit to (which is not often) so the bottles are just accumulating on his bathroom sink/in the cupboard beneath

nail biter, cuticle picker, hair twirler, thigh bouncer, etc. I don’t think he really sits still unless it’s absolutely necessary

children love him, much to his dismay. they think he’s entertaining. he thinks they’re like puppies (and he canonically hates dogs). he won’t treat them badly, but he’s just not super interested in interacting with them. unwilling older brother vibe when faced with them. shithead kids can stoke his rage much faster than Chuuya ever could

he cannot take care of a fucking plant. has one succulent in his apartment. it’s surviving out of pure unadulterated spite. he hasn’t watered it in over a year

wearer of funky socks. his favorites are either the ones that say "I love my job ha ha just kidding" or the custom ones Yosano got him as a gag gift one year for white elephant at the office christmas party (they have Kunikida’s rage face on them)

really sad that, despite his criminal record being scrubbed clean, he is still banned from driving in the nation of Japan for the rest of his life because he wants a Ford Explorer so bad

PROFOUNDLY SOUND KNOWLEDGE OF MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY

he’s fluent in Japanese and English, proficient in French and Italian, and learning Russian

I think he also enjoys learning math/researching random shit/reading anything he can in his free time when he feels up to it. he never received a formal education and his IQ is through the roof—his yearning for academia is almost like an itch he has to scratch every once in a while. also, he just likes knowing things

he never learned how to ride a bike. wahhhh wahh

BPD king. look at him. my beautiful princess with a disorder. I doubt he’s diagnosed but he strongly suspects it seeing as he’s so self-aware; if not borderline, he just assumes he has severe PTSD. either way, he really won’t do anything other than what he already knows about how to manage it

along the same lines—he’s been a functional alcoholic since an alarmingly young age (I’m talking 16-17). I think it probably got a lot worse post-defection when he was underground, but he hardly had to function then anyway; he gets somewhat better after joining the Agency but still has a dependence, it’s just not severe enough to debilitate him

has a bin of art supplies in his apartment. he only ever pulls them out once every few months, but he rather enjoys painting and wouldn’t mind getting better at it

master at darts. don’t take him to a bar where there’s a dartboard. he will stand in front of it all night and obliterate everyone who challenges him

insatiable sweet tooth. he especially loves anything maple, butter pecan, or butterscotch he’s a grandpa

UPDATE.1

I love to headcanon that he has a glass eye!!! and that the bandages around his head in the dark era were some legitimate injury. he likes to pop it out as a party trick/to weird Kunikida out

he feeds the stray cats and kittens that linger around the ADA dorms. he probably spends some of his grocery money on the fancy wet canned food and leaves it out with a big plastic bowl of water. sometimes sits and watches them eat and likes to give them little scratches if they trust him enough to come rub up on his legs. they’re sort of to him as the orphans were to Odasaku, and it makes him feel closer to his deceased friend

on the note of grocery shopping—he only goes when Atsushi or Kunikida drag him along. keeps his list relatively the same from trip to trip: canned crab, cigarettes, bandages, a few cases of beer, sake, instant ramen, ice cream (particularly butter pecan), paper towels, and 3-in-1 shampoo when he needs it. Kunikida forces vegetables upon him (“put it in the ramen so you don’t die of heart disease”) but they almost always end up rotting to mush in his fridge. he steals his toilet paper from the ADA bathrooms/supply closets or bothers Atsushi and Kyoka for spare rolls when he’s out

religiously orders drinks from the cafe on his way in and out of work. on mornings he usually gets a latte with plenty of sugar and some sort of flavor; in the evenings he probably gets an iced flavored tea to mix or chase his sake with when he gets home

always has a pocket knife on him. probably one he got in his mafia days, or, it’s at least a habit/security he picked up from then

takes a lot of night walks. he doesn’t sleep well, so I think he probably wanders out tipsy with his pack of cigarettes in the wee hours of the morning and scuttles around to tire himself out

UPDATE.2

two words: medical trauma. I know some people get iffy when it comes to speculation about what Mori did/didn’t/may/may not have subjected him too as a young teenager (and believe me I have a lot of thoughts) but I definitely headcanon that Dazai was used as a little bit of a lab rat/sedated and coerced to some degree when it came to turning him into a killing machine. as a result, he’s got a fear of medical settings. after his surgery during the cannibalism arc? I know he got that phone back and was like “Tanizaki get me out of here right neow”

I think sweet little old ladies probably love him and he loves them too. always feels like he strikes up the best small talk with them. will help load groceries into their cars for them. he gets all smiley and stuff when they call him “sweetheart” “honey” “dear” or remark how handsome he is and about his hypothetical girlfriend must be so lucky

he can throw knives with pinpoint accuracy from a pretty impressive distance. he’s a little less accurate with his handgun at long range/with moving targets but HE’S GETTING BETTER

has like a 3.5 ft vertical jump at his best. like why are you a detective when the Lakers need a center

[miupow]

could you possibly maybe do some head canons, or just general thoughts on day to day life with crave verse txt, i’m so curious how it all works on the more domestic side of things, I kind of envision it in my head as how the wolf pack in the twilight series lives if ykwim 😭

btw ~ love your works esp crave verse :))) have a great day 💗💗💗

just one more headcanon post.. just one more… i can’t stop myself and i love you guys >< thank u sm nonnie!! love u tooo

CRAVEVERSE ; general daily life headcanons !

cw // domestic fluff ! werewolf!txt x fem!reader (poly)

MORNING !

-> soobin and beomgyu who are always oversleeping vs taehyun and yeonjun who always wake up early.. constant bickering.. and mc who sleeps the longest but it’s because the boys don’t want to disturb her beauty sleep <3

-> tyunning arms and chest as they chop wood for the fireplace… you trying not to stare while doing the laundry by the river

-> taehyun who likes to wrestle with his brothers on the living room carpet, one of the only times youve seen him smile

-> you began to do chores around the farmhouse as a sort of thank you, felt like you had to show your gratitude for them letting you stay there while your foot heals! you’re already so used to caring for others and it was the least you could do.. oh little do you know…

-> they all go so delulu for it because it’s so mate behavior !!! like theyre crazy about their little housewifey and she just thinks she’s being nice

-> yeonjun who can be bribed with good food lmao.. telling him you’ll make him his favorite if he does a favor for you <3

-> and overall always starving wolf boys txt who eat mind boggling amounts of food and who are always hungry lol

-> the old, abandoned victorian farmhouse they live in is in constant need of repairs, from the roof getting holes to the stairs falling through.. the boys who dream of one day living in a nice, comfortable pack house… but the farmhouse is okay for now

-> yeonjun who sleeps in the master bedroom on the ground floor, and likes it a whole lot when you sleep there with him !! originally gives up his room to you and sleeps on the old moth ball couch but he slides his way back in lmao . the other boys sleep on the second floor ; soogyu who share a room and tyunning who share a room, with an extra spare bedroom for them to lock themselves up in if need be.

-> spending time in the farmhouse alone with taehyun or beomgyu while the others go on a hunting trip.. the tension…

[shipmansflannels]

the yellowjackets with a younger s/o...

hey, I'm back! it didn't take me long, right? it must be because I have too many things to write on this blog, finally (and I have relatively enough time to organize my ideas for now). so I thought, I made a headcannon of the young yellowjackets, but I might as well make the adult survivors, right? anyway, maybe this is also a sign to say that I will "moderately" write stories with the adult versions, too. who cheered? anyway, without further ado, let's go! thanks for the likes on the first post, I'm glad you liked it! enjoy! sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

---------

dating a younger person with the yellowjackets women...

shauna shipman.

okay, it's canonical that shauna would have no problem being in a relationship with someone younger.

I mean, even after adam, I think she would be willing to try.

it would be a lot easier in her mind, because dating someone younger means being able to reconnect with callie more easily too.

in shauna's mind, the two of you would be best friends based on your approximate age, regardless of how old you were.

now in terms of dating shauna, i think she would inevitably be an easy going person, to a certain extent.

overprotective as hell, of course, because she's lost so many people she loves over time (and it's become an incurable trauma in her life), that she can't bear to lose you.

she would also cook for you (rabbit meat inserted) all the time, especially if you felt like eating something special.

oh yes, the weekends would have to include callie with you, which is actually not a problem. at least not for you.

I feel like shauna hasn't been, since she was a teenager, someone who would be involved in loud parties or anything like that, so probably the perfect date for her would be watching a movie at home, wrapped in blankets with you, popcorn and soda and a solitude considerable enough for you to kiss, exchange affection and even make out (or have sex) without anyone to get in the way.

natalie scatorccio.

natalie, like shauna, would also have no problem dating someone younger.

since her life has always been full of risks and she was never very afraid of taking most of them, I honestly think that age never made much of a difference to her, at least not after middle age.

but to be honest, dating natalie comes with a combo of even bigger problems and risks that you wouldn't be able to deal with if you didn't love her so much.

I see natalie completely using her s/o as an outlet, or a shield. after rehab, you would be like a kind of warning for her to control herself.

not that it wouldn't also include (if you're a smoker) the two of you smoking in your spare time when you're bored.

natalie would be the kind of girlfriend you could have any conversation in the world with, sober or not. she probably has and gained enough empathy to listen to you and give you accurate advice on how to live your life.

making out a lot and having sex in unusual places also counts.

in my head, despite everything, natalie is the master of serving affection. spooning with her is the best whenever you need it.

she would do anything for you. everything really. anything.

she would be able to get into a fight for you. and risking her own life as well.

lottie matthews.

number one defender of the thesis: "age is just a number".

lottie is literally the personification of quality time and acts of service.

much because of her lonely life, her traumatic and confusing teenage years and the relationships she maintained with people over time, lottie would probably never want you to lack for anything, so any opportunity she has to be with you, she will be, even on her worst days.

arts and crafts dates with her when she is not taking care of camp green pine. you spend hours enjoying each other's company, and the whole world falls silent.

extremely overprotective of you too. just the thought of losing you because of her own insecurities leaves lottie haunted for weeks if she stops to think about it.

she is the ideal companion for anxiety and panic attacks.

she will most likely use the techniques she learned over time with you. if they work, that's another matter. (they always work because in the end it was never about lottie's gift, it was about her company).

a little submissive, a little dominant during sex. lottie is probably the typical "am I hurting you?" at the right time and even if you insist no, she will ask again just to be sure.

she's also the master spooner (I literally see you two fighting over who's going to be the big spoon every night).

taissa turner.

ok, public life has always been a problem for taissa.

but when she's with you, she's able to forget about it for a few minutes.

despite all this freedom, taissa never lets you go out unaccompanied (without a bodyguard) or lets you read the headlines or see the commercials about her first, for fear of any criticism about your age difference.

but more than anything, it's you she turns to when the stress finally gets to her on the worst days.

I see her making any effort for you, and I see her trying to keep a fine line between you and her old life too.

this includes your relationship with sammy, which, in fact, has always been the best possible, and her friendly relationship with simone as well. taissa knows that she cannot take her son out of her ex-wife's life and, even so, she makes a point of including you in family programs with him.

she will literally spend it all on you. anything you ask for, even with a high amount of money, she will buy.

it's probably a way of apologizing about her sleepwalking and her traumas making her even remotely distant from you for some time.

like I said, you're the one she looks for when crises end up attacking her mental health. she won't sleep if you're not safe in bed with her and she makes a point of being snuggled in her arms so she doesn't have any sleepwalking attacks in the middle of the night.

dates with her are always in fancy places, but taissa doesn't care about them that much.

anniversaries, yes, she always takes you to dinner at a fancy restaurant.

but, on her days off, she would easily choose to just spend time with you watching a stupid series or a cliché movie while you sleep cuddling in the middle of it.

sex always, sex anywhere, sex on any occasion. you will never miss this, you can be sure.

van palmer.

this nerdy woman deserves the world and a significant other who doesn't know half of her references.

you two are a match made in heaven, for sure.

van wouldn't waste time trying to get you to watch all the movies that were popular in her time. and she would use your ability to tinker with technology for the video store whenever necessary.

this woman is literally the embodiment of girlfriend material.

quality time, acts of service, words of affirmation, she has mastered every love language in existence, you bet.

van will always cook for you. there are rare nights when she lets you make dinner or even order any junk food.

she would also stop whatever she was doing so she could cuddle with you whenever you needed her.

dates with van are always at the cinema, or at an amusement park, or, when she is a little less in debt, at a tourist spot around the world that you would mention that you want to see.

she has good enough memory to remember them all.

the sex is always good, always affectionate, and every now and then, when she's not tired, you'd try a quickie in the bedroom for just a little while, until you feel satisfied.

hopeless romantic until the end of time.

misty quigley.

a walking red flag, misty would probably treat a relationship with someone younger as if it were a great adventure.

well, if you like crazy women, misty is your ideal partner.

she has a bit of a misconception about taking care of you and keeping you safe, so every now and then she'll make a point of checking your calendar and trying to monitor meetings with people in your circle, just to make sure there's no problem.

but this is also a good thing because, if there is a specific date or specific problem, she will remember it and make everyone special, in her own way.

anyway, but she's a good girlfriend too, aside from the weirdness. she has everything under control, she is attentive to you and makes a point of making your day better if it is bad.

dates with her don't need much. If it's in a cafe relaxing and talking about her day, if it's watching crime series or chatting with her about citizen detectives, she'll be happy.

sex is also good, to be honest. I see misty as the roleplay girl, so if she's in the mood to roleplay with you, you can be sure she'll do it. from weirdest to sexiest, it also depends on her day.

she achieved the feat of making a young person like a bird and want to have a bird at home. she is, at the moment, the only one of them to be able to do this masterfully.

[starryeyedstray]

my thoughts on dbh as someone entering the fandom in 2024

so just got into the dbh fandom like in aug 2024. i have watched too much gameplay, read the wiki extensively, read an obscene amount of fanfics on ao3, and am in the process of writing my own. here are some of my thoughts (that no one has asked for):

every fanfic writer who started in 2018 and is still updating their works in 2024 are literal saints and some of the best damn writers i ever did saw and the dedication is fucking unreal. one fic had almost 2 million words??????? like BRUH. some are still ongoing and updated this year?? the dbh fandom in ao3 is not thriving as much as it was in 2018 (i say this purely as someone who's looking at the hits/kudos/comment ratios on older v. new works) but they are still alive!!!!

i am puzzled with the obsession with gavin reed. there are like a million fics that feature him and rk900. i am confused bc he did not seem like a redeeming character at all in my opinion and idk, i think he's just an asshole. i like the redemption arcs some ppl write for him but i just can't with him. i mean you ship who you wanna ship but i am not a reed fan and i am confused how he became so popular when all he did was bully our poor boi connor.

i personally don't ship hank x connor bc they give strong father-son vibes in the canon. however, i am obsessed with how jolli_bean writes the pairing on ao3 since its usually a canon divergence or an AU so the pair meet later in life. there are some fics that follow the canon and do a pretty good job with the pairing, but i just tend to keep it familial between them in my head. (but like i said, ship who you want to ship)

i am glad there's a vague consensus that we all wished alice stayed a human bc i feel like that lends itself to a more interesting narrative post-game. tho i guess her being an android is fine bc now kara, luthor, and alice can live as one happy family in canada forvever lol

i am literally obsessed with bryan dechart's acting as connor. like if you haven't seen him play connor in real life for the interactive #detroit2038 premiere event, then you gotta watch some of the live stream. like he doesn't break character the whole time and his physicality just screams connor and i just really appreciate how much effort he put in as an actor to really embody the character. just so impressive and i wish there was more bts of him acting as connor bc its just so nuanced and ugh *chef's kiss* if they ever made a live action dbh it would be impossible for anyone else to play connor

i love the 28 stab wounds meme. when i watched that scene for the first time it was so jarring lmao

i also love how everyone is like yes, we all know connor likes dogs but he also likes fish bc of that one fish you can save in the very first minute of gameplay hahahah. (his name is dewey and it is vitally important you save him). i also appreciate how the "i like dogs" line will undoubtedly find it's way into every fic possible lol

i think the love for simon is very good and well and amazing but i think josh deserves more love in fics too

it bothers me that when north tells markus "i love you" at the church, MARKUS DOESN'T SAY IT BACK??? LIKE BITCH SAY YOU LOVE HER BACK DAMMIT DON'T JUST WALK AWAY

i love how the fandom just latched onto rk900 and rk800-60 and fleshed out their personalities and i love reading ppl's interpretation of these characters and how they incorporate them into their stories. it's funny they only show up like one time and ppl just ran with it and it's so fun and creative and i love it.

i love the hc that chloe deviated when connor chose not to shoot her. that's the best hc. like it's canon in my heart idc

bless all the fic writers who have mastered the art of explaining how androids mind and bodies work bc there are so many gaps and possibilities left open in the lore and it's incredible to see what ppl come up with or interpret based off the canon. (i still feel 50/50 about when they make deviants feel pain cause like androids not feeling pain is such a big part of the canon and yeah i'll give it a pass if the fic does it for the whumps and the angst but i prefer when a fic finds a canon-compliant reason for deviants to feel pain, even if its just like they got a chip or software installed that makes them feel pain or something)

every pairing that i find in this fandom, i tend to be like... "yeah i can see that." (with the exception of hank x connor for reasons i stated in #3). i'm still like ehhh on reed900 or even gavin x connor bc i just don't think it makes sense in the canon but if it's written well i just shrug and say yeah i guess i could see that. some rarepairs i ended up absolutely adoring were chloe x north and rk900 x north (i realize they're both north but she has such good potential for character dynamics)

idk if it's just me bc i specifically look for fics centered around connor, but i feel like there's not a lot of love for kara at least fic-wise. ig it's cause she kinda just leaves so it's easy to not include her. tbh, i am quite well-versed in markus' and connor's stories but i haven't really explored a lot of kara's. i plan on playing dbh with my partner when i see them again in a couple months and i wanted us to take turn playing different characters and i wanted to play kara's storyline so i've been avoiding it for the most part so i can be surprised with my options. plus, in my wip fic, kara is in canada so she's not really relevant to my story which is why i have in depth knowledge about markus and connor and less on kara.

the music in this game fucking SLAPS. 10/10 kara's theme makes me wanna cry.

okay, there is a common trope in the dbh fanfics where connor loses his memory and that shit gets me everytime. i'm always bawling and anxiously waiting for him to fucking REMEMBER and i hate and love it and eat it up every. single. time. usually, the memory loss happens early in the fic and it's pretty expected but sometimes i get blindsided and i'm like FUCK not this shit again but i can't stop reading it and the angst is so palpable.

i think it's so interesting how ra9 is just like this mystery in the lore that never gets entirely explained in the game. it's like something you can totally kinda ignore but it does have interesting lore implications if you decide to really think about it.

i adore all the characters in dbh equally except for connor who is the certified best boi and my absolute favorite (no one is shocked by this declaration). and the characters on my shit list are zlatko, todd, and sometimes reed.

this is an obnoxiously long post and i apologies. i haven't been on tumblr in years and i just had so many thoughts about dbh and i have no friends to talk to so i decided to dump it all here. i still have more thoughts but those are the ones that come to the forefront of my mind.

tldr: i love dbh and its fandom and i have many specific thoughts about it and you should just really read my post if you care about any of it

[pursuitseternal]

“𝕺𝖚𝖗 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉: 𝕷𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖘’ 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙” ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2, 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 ℑ𝔫 𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔰𝔢

Post-canon Lord Astarion x Cordehlia | E | 3K

🎨 by @marimosalad Crowdehlia Cordehlia’s co-creator

Summary: In the comfort of his arcane tower, Gale reveals the details of the mission for the Ascendant and his Raven, and grants them magical items to aid their quest. Left to their own devices, Astarion and Cordehlia do what they do best, finally alone…

CW: Banter, annoyed Tara, homebrew items (except the necklace really does exist, Act 3!), Quickie smut, bed creaking smut, desperate Astarion and Consort just as down bad for him. And poor Gale.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 1 for “Our Blood is Thicker,” OG series

A loud, open-mouth scoff was Astarion’s reply to Gale’s dramatics. “I swear to the gods this had better be worth my time, or I’ll walk my way back to the necropolis. At least it’s pleasant there… and quiet,” he gave that annoyed smirk.

That impudent grin earned him a shove in his ribs from his love. “You’re not going anywhere without me, and I’m helping Gale,” Cordehlia’s tone was meant to provoke, her eyes meaning to goad him into obedience.

Irritated, Astarion narrowed his eyes, a silent dare, provoking her to hold to her threat. “Fine,” he huffed, relenting. “But only because I won’t let you out of my sight. Gods know what sort of trouble you’d end up in without me.”

Astarion extended a single finger to trace her jaw, one that Cordehlia snapped at with a sharp turn of her head.

“Ahh, ancient love,” Gale bit, sarcasm darkening the good natured tone he usually used. He leaned back in his chair, when suddenly, something fluffy and brown swooped into the open space of his lap before he could even cross his ankle over his knee.

Astarion fairly shrieked, fangs bared and glinting in the firelight of the study. “Mangy beast,” he huffed as he tried to catch his breath.

The cat turned her head, yellow slitted eyes roaming over their guests. “I hear you can view yourself in the mirror now, vampire, if your looking for the real mangy beast in this room…”

Two snorts came in reply, Cordehlia and Gale equally blushing and giggling and trying to hide their reactions behind their palms. “Tara, play nice with the other creatures,” Gale chided her, even as he rewarded her sass with a hearty scratch under her chin. “That one can change into a rather large bat and still drain you dry.” Gale nodded towards the Ascendant.

But Tara only laughed. “Only if he could catch me,” she fired back, fanning her own set of wings.

“Why, you…” Astarion bristled in his place beside Cordehlia’s seat, fangs bared, hissing and spitting like a tomcat himself.

Cordhelia smiled slightly. “Sadly, you’d have to content yourself with my one and only form, Tara, but if you recall, you enjoyed my fingers rubbing your belly.”

“I do remember, my lady,” the tressym purred delightedly, curling on her master’s lap to face her. “But Master Dekarios has just the solution to that little issue you mentioned about your form.”

“Tara, that was my big surprise,” Gale half scolded, half laughed as he tapped his finger on that tiny pink nose. A twinkle in his hazel eyes, and Gale’s hand glowed, summoning a pretty little black box, opening to reveal a stunning necklace, a little circlet of gold with a bright blue stone in the center. “This is the Corvid Token, a little bauble that will grant you the polymorph of a Dire Raven.” He grinned widely, watching as Cordehia’s pale face lit up in joy. “And I can think of no better home than around the neck of the Lady Corvus, the Ascendant’s Raven.”

Astarion cleared his throat, a little high-pitched and whiny. “I’m sure my Bride will put it to good use in my service,” he crowed, hand splayed on his chest.

Cordehlia threw him a self-righteous smirk, “Oh Gale, it’s perfect.” She turned her bright scarlet eyes on their friend, relishing the bristle of annoyance that flowed from her mate. “It’s been so long since I received anything so powerful and elegant all at once…”

“Now you’re just being mean and petty,” Astarion huffed under his breath, folding his arms and sulking.

“Don’t you fret, dear Ascendant,” the wizard chuckled, petting his purring pet as she nestled in his lap and glared daggers at the vampire. “I have a gift for you too. I wouldn’t send my dearest sanguine-sated companions into the proverbial lion’s den without some magical items of arcane significance.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s giving us weapons to help us in our…”

“Yes, I get it. Thank you, dearest treasure,” he interrupted, clipped and biting as he glared at them both.

A wry smile on his face, and Gale’s hands glowed blue. The light settled on Astarions crown, two matching prongs of cambion horns materializing from the light. “What in the hells,” the vampire snarled, spine going ramrod straight before it bent under the new weight. The magic gone, and Astarion gingerly felt along their bumped and curled edges. “Well, fuck, these are heavy. I’m used to you giving me a headache, Gale, but I didn’t realize you would manifest it quite so literally….”

Cordehlia gave a decidedly unladylike snort.

“Care to explain why I have devil horns, wizard?” He gave a disgruntled frown, his hands and arms gesticulating to the sudden monstrosity on his perfect hair.

“I kind of like them,” Cordehlia purred, grabbing his hand to pull him lower.

“You, shut it,” he smirked, his annoyance doubling by the moment.

Gale sat there patting his own chin, making faces and running his hand through his hair. As if he looked at his reflection.

“Hells, it’s not some invisible astral projection, is it?” Astarion somehow sounded even more peeved.

And Gale finally stood, Tara’s padded feet landing silently on the red carpet as she trundled away. “Where you are going tomorrow, you will need good disguises, and I will need to see your every move.” He waved to the horns. “Remember Wyll’s eye? The Sending Stone in the cuticle of your horns will allow me to see and communicate with you directly, oh mighty Ascendant.”

Those crimson eyes glared in ire. “So you’re keeping tabs on me? Checking your own face in the way you look from this… rack… on my head. I do so enjoy a good rack...”

Gale smirked, folding his arms. “I’m going to take the high road on this one and ignore your innuendo.”

Astarion sucked his teeth, “Really? I mean I knew you were a little fun, Gale, but no fun whatsoever? Gotten even more boring as a teacher or whatever in your quaint little wizard school, it seems.” He settled on the arm of Cordehlia’s chair, one arm wrapped around her back, the other teasing a finger down her front to trail in the valley of her chest. “I suppose, if the lewd humor is off the table, you won’t mind if I engage in some lewd behavior…”

Gale covered his eyes, “Hells, I can see everything you see, Astarion, including Cordehlia’s… ahem… décolletage. This was a mistake trusting you with a Seeing Stone imbued disguise…”

Tara purred a laugh from her cushion. “It’s not too late to just swap the roles… Make the preening male the small, winged creature and give the female the arcane treasure.” Her fluffy tail twitched. “She smells trustworthy.”

Cordhelia beamed.

Astarion rolled those red eyes so far back, they could have stuck. “Just because I can take wild form, a most ferocious bat, mind you,” he commented pointedly at the tressym, “it doesn’t mean that I am amenable to such a plan. I am… Ascendant… after all.”

A warm laugh, and Gale leaned forward. “Tara, play nice with our guests. We don’t get many. Even if your observations are, as always, astute.” The wizard lost that smile as he regarded his friends. “I realize you look and feel ridiculous and perhaps woefully unprepared. Allow me to illuminate you.” He leaned back in his seat once more, steepling his fingers as his elbows rested on the arms. “Are you familiar with the coven of vampires here, Astarion?”

His jaw clenched, his hand stiffened on Cordehlia’s shoulder. “Lord Malicus and I have... brushed elbows in the past, though never in any way that would leave me… unwilling to face him, shall we say,” his voice was tight, words dancing around the scars of his past even amongst closest of friends.

Gale gave a sigh of relief. “That is good, I thought I had been thorough in what research I could to see how often you might have crossed paths before, and while I consider myself to be exhaustive, vampires unsurprisingly do not maintain accurate records.“

“Yes, being creatures of the night will do that to you,“ Astarion said. “An innate tendency for secrecy is a must when one is a fearsome monster….” He leered down at Cordehlia, rakish and smirking to produce the desired effect. She was always up for a good fang-bearing leer.

But all she did was lean forward in her seat opposite Gale. “So these vampires took something from you? Something dangerous and powerful?”

The serious professor somehow looked suddenly more solemn than usual. “Yes, by Elminster’s beard. An item I had my sights set on for the studies at the academy. A most singular text of arcane knowledge and power. They nabbed it before I could retrieve it, holding it in their crypt beneath Malicus’ tower.”

Astarion had busied himself by feeling the ridged curves of his left horn, then he snapped to attention. “Another powerful… text? You are having us risk everything for… a book?”

“Was the Codex just a book? The Annals of Karsus? How about your precious Necromancy of Thay, hmm?” Gale tensed, those wrinkles forming between his hazel eyes.

Astarion glared, “Point taken. So your grand plan to purloin this book for you requires me to have horns and my love to be a bird?” He arched his brow, feigning a greater interest in his nail beds as he delicately fanned his fingers.

“Indeed, mighty Ascendant. You’ll use your status to gain entry to his gathering for Liars’ Night, a grand soirée of hedonism and blood. By all appearances, you’ll be alone, just a harmless corvid familiar resting on your shoulder…” his bright eyes danced with mischief as he skimmed them over Cordehlia’s playful grin.

“Well, all my years being Lady Corvus, the Raven, the Bone Picker and now,” she giggled low in her chest, “I finally get to test my wings at it for real.”

Gale guffaws, slapping his knee. “I know, I know, you’ll be the delightful Lady Crowdehlia!”

Astarion audibly wretched. “Oh Gale, even for your brand of humor that was… horrible,” he chided, tones of utter disgust in his purring voice.

Gale laughed heartily, “Why doesn’t my lady try her new form. I’m sure Tara would love to teach you flying if it’s a struggle. If you don’t take to it like a fish to water.” The way he made himself laugh only earned him a matching giggle from Cordehlia and a scathing eye roll and sneer from the Ascendant. A touch of her pendant, a burst of blue magic, and in place of a vampiric beauty in his chair there was a stunning black Dire Raven, glossy black feathers and shining beak and everything.

Astarion’s eyes were saucers, staring down at the massive black bird. Her heartbeat was the same, their tethered souls and minds still intact. “Oh, fuck yeah!” he heard her exclaim as the bird hopped around on the velveteen seat. Sleek black wings extended and she was off, flapping and cawing around Gale’s tower.

Heart racing in dread, Astarion jumped to his feet and tried to grab for her. What if she fell… what if she couldn’t land… what if that mangy beast forgot herself and decided it was supper time?

“Godsdammit Gale, she could get hurt,” he snarled, rounding on the wizard with red eyes blazing in misdirected rage.

But the bird… or Cordehlia… or whatever… just swooped deftly to land on the tip of his dark horn. “Relax, my love. It’s easy and… I haven’t had this much fun since we killed our way out of the Goblin Camp back in the day,” she laughed, ruffling her feathers and folding her wings.

The Ascendant looked down his nose at Gale, that wizard’s arrogant grin pissing the shit out of him for one reason or another, he wasn’t sure yet why. “Alright, Gale,” he spat the name with playful vitriol, “so as the devil in disguise and his crow familiar… we get into this Liars’ Night ball, we find the vault, break in, get your… ugh… book, and return it to you without them suspecting a thing?”

“Yup, pretty much!” Gale clapped his hands together and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll spare you the details, Astarion. They were never your thing anyway. I’ll give you lots of backs to stab and necks to bite and treasure to loot.” Gale’s smirk widened at his friends. “Just do not abuse the power of that Sending Stone in your horns. You can conjure or dismiss it at will like Cordehlia’s form, so please,” he grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose, “dismiss the horns before you get… horny.”

“Tch,” Astarion pouted, “you’re no fun, but fine.”

A swirl of magic and both vampires dismissed their gifted forms.

Gale stood. “Tara will show you to your room for tonight. Behave yourselves, please. I don’t have the same resources as you to clean up after your… activities, oh mighty Ascendant,” he laughs, a bit hollow and honest as he watches them walk down the hall after his tressym.

“I missed this…” Astarion whispered into Cordehlia’s mind as they followed Tara up some curved staircase to a spacious landing. “The thrill of adventure with you, the risk of being… caught.” His hand wandered slowly from her lower back to grip her ass deliciously.

Tara sat at the entrance to a small curved door in the hall. “Your accommodations, courtesy of the Master. Don’t make a mess,” she sighed, flicking her tail as she watched them disappear inside.

Cordehlia entered the small bedchamber, setting her bag of holding down and removing her new precious necklace. “Astarion, do you think—”

His kiss of fangs silenced her, hands gripping and turning her by the shoulders as he covered her mouth. Lips worked furiously, tongue demanding entrance to taste her, to tangle with her own. And Cordhelia melted into his arms, her thoughts scattered to the wind as they did the moment she tasted him.

“I need you,” he whispered into her mind. “Keep it quick and quiet and the wizard will be none the wiser.” His skilled fingers made quick work of her jerkin and top, palming and massaging her breasts the second they were freed. A low growl in the back of his throat, and he backed her blindly to the edge of the small bed, laughing as she tumbled unceremoniously into it.

Arms around his neck, she pulled him clumsily down on top, the bed making a loud thump as their undead bodies landed. Their crimson eyes locked together, waiting and panting and listening if they had been caught. After several long seconds of their pointed ears twitching only to hear the settling of Gale’s tower, they gave sighs of relief.

“Good,” Astarion whispered as he crushed her into the bed, lips already working furiously in another kiss. “I’m too worked up to stop, even if we were found out.” His chuckle was deep-bellied and rumbling, a constant low growl as Cordehlia pulled him into her with equal need. Her hips rolled under him, hands pulling on the curve of his ass to press his fine leather-clad erection against her mound.

His name tumbled from her lips, felt more than heard against his all-consuming lips. She bucked her hips, lifting them to frantically drag them to her ankles. “My love, please,” she moaned in her deep and musical voice. Once she kicked off her shoes and freed herself, a sigh and a smile slipped from her. The relief of his clothed cock on her bare folds brought tears to her eyes.

She rocked her hips, desperate for more… more friction, more him. “I’ve been aching since the necropolis,” Cordehlia rasped, her fangs clicking against his as her kiss grew sloppy and desperate.

“I know,” he taunted, a cheeky, arrogant chuckle as he slipped his fingers inside her to touch those perfect spots. “I could smell you. I always… smell you,” he growled, his body making the small wooden bed start to creak as he thrust against her harder. “Hells,” he grumbled, “quick and quiet and…” he quickly freed his cock from his trousers, sheathing it in that familiar tight warmth of his love, “don’t break the bed.”

Cordehlia clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling the whimper that tore through her from cunt to crown. His hips rolled, dragging deliciously in her walls, making her unbearably and instantly wet for him. Her eyes went wide, staring up at his conceited smirk, scarlet eyes glaring her warning.

He rocked faster, the small wooden frame of the bed creaking, its joints protesting as Astarion lowered himself, his full weight crushing her into the poor feather mattress. His lips replaced her hand to gag and swallow her noises, his tongue tangling with her to keep her quiet. One hand gripped into the back of her head, weaving and snagging in her red-orange hair. Smirking, he knew just how to unravel her, his free hand reaching to pull her by her ass against his hips, letting his cock grind on her clit. And then, his knee— his cursed, blessed knee—pressed her open, splaying her wider to make sure he dragged his cock against her inner nerves with every rapid thrust.

An elven curse slipped past her lips, the bed complaining louder as he drew near his climax. His body moved with feral need, lost was all the care and caution. Cordehlia’s hand slapped behind her pushing the headboard back to tighten the creaking piece of shit under them. “Hells… quick and quiet, huh?” she mocked, her words scratched in her throat as she dangled on the edge of her own pleasure-wave.

“He should just be thankful I don’t leave you a wet… and bloody mess… all over his guestroom,” he snickered, his voice fading into pants and groans until he felt her squeeze him. Her walls clamped around him, her back arching off the poor bed, legs wrapped snug around his waist. “Cordehlia,” he hissed. He panted her name once more, those four sweet syllables breaking in his throat as he came. His fingers clawed into her neck and ass, his breathing ragged and hot in her ear as he emptied inside her. That wetness that seeped from her cunt poured from her as she came around him again, sweet walls fluttering in rapid uneven pulses.

Their foreheads pressed together, their sweaty damp skin sticking as they breathed and laughed and shushed each other.

A soft knock at the door made them jump out of their undead skin. “Breakfast first thing in the morning,” Gale’s voice called through the door. Then, there was a slight pause. “And there are fresh bed linens in the dresser against the wall…”

[slayfics]

I know you don't do anymore Mui fics, but I come with an offer. 👀

I will draw you any character you want, or any oc x Canon art in exchange of a short Mui fic because I love your writing, preferably of valentines day but whatever works easier for you.

You may deny this offer if you so please in dms and or delete this ask.

I hope you have a great day and happy valentines day \(^□^)/🫶

Valentines Day with Muichiro.

~500 words

Your feet padded along the dark forest floor as you returned to Muichiro’s Mansion. You had been on a mission for several days, and your excitement at being back increased with every footstep.

Once the estate came into view, you were surprised to see dim lighting inside the mansion. You expected Muichiro to be resting or out on a late patrol.

When you walked inside the mansion you were met with the sight of Muichiro waiting patiently at the table.

“You made it back safely!” He exclaimed with a warm smile. “Not that I would have expected any less from you, but I’m glad you made it in time.” He spoke and gestured for you to join him at the table.

“Made it in time?” You asked and glanced at the table. The table was set for dinner for two, and origami flowers decorated the middle of the table.

“Mhm- seems I’m finally not the forgetful one,” Muichiro joked. “Today is Valentine’s Day.”

The days blurred together while you were out on your mission, and you had completely forgotten about the holiday.

“Oh! Happy Valentine's Master Tokito!” You said and finally sat down joining him at the table. “I’m sorry I had no idea it was today. I must have lost track of the days on my mission.”

“Don’t apologize, you completed your mission successfully. That’s all I could have hoped for.” He reassured you.

You nodded accepting his praise and looked over the food on the table, “You made this yourself?” You asked.

“Yes, it’s my favorite dish Furofuki Daikon. I thought it would be nice to share it together,” he answered.

Momentarily stunned for words all you could do was smile and nod. You hadn’t expected Muichiro to go through so much work for you.

“Please try it,” he urged, waiting for you to take a bite before he tried any of his.

You obliged and took a bite. It was better than you imagined- and after such a long journey it tasted heavenly.

“Wow this is amazing Tokito,” you spoke taking another bite.

“I’m glad you think so… it may have taken me a few times to remember how to make it just right,” he giggled. “Oh, before I forget this too-,” he cut off as he reached into his haroi and pulled out a gift. “Here these are for you.” He said handing you the gift.

You grabbed the gift reluctantly overwhelmed by his kindness. It had been this way since he regained his memories, but his fondness for you still took you by surprise.

You inspected the gift realizing they were long socks. “Uh- socks?” You asked smiling confused at him.

“Mhm,” he nodded. “Iguro said he gifted socks to Miss Kanroji once and she really enjoyed them so… do you not like them?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“No no!” You said quickly waving your hands. “I love them! They’re perfect- thank you Tokito! This is the most thoughtful Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.” You spoke.

“Is that so? Then I’ll have to make sure I make the next one even better,” he said smiling.

I was worried I wouldn’t be able to do this since my heart isn’t with Muichiro anymore- but I did my very best and I hope you like it! The artwork you made me is absolutely stunning 😫✨! I haven’t been able to take my eyes off it! Posting @naramaiz art of my OC Kansa and Katsuki Bakugo below because it’s absolutely perfect!

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 16

Summary: The final confrontation with Hybern comes to a head.

Content Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Character Death (or two, sorry Beron), Suggestiveness ;)

Author's Note: I'm going to be totally honest, I have a terrible time writing endings, they have never been my strong suit, I like to keep things open ended so that they can just go one forever and ever. So, I intend to write a couple more chapters as part of the epilogue, I'm thinking a mating ceremony? Some fluffy goodness to make up for all the angst? Let me know what you guys want to see :) (I've posted a poll here for ideas as well )

Previous Chapter/ Master List

-------------------

Rhys is screaming, roaring, your name.

You should be dead. 

You’re certainly cold, as cold as you had been the first time the Cauldron’s powers had filled you, but this time, this time there is an end to it. This time you can claw your way to the surface and grab some air. This time you do not fight it, do not surrender to it, you grab hold of that icy power and draw it in like a breath. And when your lungs are full, you release that breath with a scream that blows the roof off the Temple.

You’re not dead at all.

Helion lays with his hands over his head at your feet, completely unharmed.

You rub at the spot on your chest where you took the brunt of the blast, the only real discomfort you still feel from the whole ordeal.

Rhys grabs you by the shoulder, shouting your name, terror shooting down the bond. 

“I’m ok,” you assure. “Although, I do kinda have heartburn now.”

Helion raises himself back up as both Azriel and Cassian slam into the ground beside you. 

“Mother’s Tits!” Cassian bellows.

You burp from the pressure in your chest.

“How the fuck?” Azriel says to Rhys.

Your mate is staring at you like he can’t believe any of this is real, and you’re honestly inclined to believe the same. Just a couple months ago you had fully believed you were just some farm girl, and now, here you stand, a full fledged Death Goddess. 

“What was that?” Rhys demands none of them in particular, his face awash with worry.

You roll your shoulders, strangely more confident than before. You can take that, you can take whatever else it’s got. “The Cauldron and I have unfinished business.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before an arrow comes whizzing past your ear. That was why it had been so empty; why cast spells and lay boobytraps when Hybern could simply pull his men back and wait for you all to enter so he could blast you away with the Cauldron?

Both Cassian and Azriel turn to face the Temple, large wings outstretched like shields as they raise their gloved hands. Ruby and cobalt siphons gleam on their hands and a moment later, they channel a blast of energy at them, turning the first wave of Hybern’s archers to ash. 

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say they’re only out to let the Cauldron recharge,” Helion warns.

You rub at your chest again. “I need to get inside.”

“No-” Rhys starts, his hand still gripping your shoulder as he reconsiders the path ahead. His brothers push forward, their fine-tuned energy blasts clearing a path. For the moment, the Cauldron is quiet. It will not stay that way.

“It has to be me,” you say, turning away from the destruction ahead of you to look at him. It’s not fair that either of your lives have turned out like this, that the time you’ve had together has been so full of hardships. If things were different, maybe you would have wandered into the Night Court on your own, bumped into him in the city somewhere and the bond would have clicked. You could have had something simple, gentle, not these dangers and battles and pain between you. 

“Let us be done with this,” there’s really not time for this conversation, but if anything goes wrong, you couldn’t bear any more regret. “So we can go home, together, like we bargained.”

You flex your hand, where the ink no longer resides, before brushing your hand over his cheek. “I love you, Rhys.”

“No good-byes,” he whispers, violet eyes heavy. 

“We’ll have more time,” you promise. “And I am grateful for what we’ve already had.”

“Even if I did make a mess of it?” He teases, though his voice breaks.

You stretch up on your toes and kiss him gently on the lips. “I suppose I can find it in me to forgive you.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you feel the Cauldron powering up again, its voice a siren call in your mind as it beckons you. You pull away from your mate. “Pull them back.”

“Cassian! Azriel!” He barks and the two Illyrians turn ever so slightly to look at him in confusion, their glittering energy shields parting just enough to let a body through. 

You don’t wait for Rhys to give them anymore orders, you sprint through that gap as fast as your legs can carry you. 

“Come. Sweet Death. Come play, Little Goddess.”

It’s Cassian that yells for you to wait. Cassian who would have taken that next hit, those beautiful wings shredded to pieces had you not been standing directly between him and the next blast. The cold consumes you, makes every breath feel like swallowing glass, but still, you keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The next wave of soldiers comes barrelling forward, and you take all that borrowed energy clustered in your chest and hurl it at them. There’s no way to track how many bodies you turn to mist, a splatter of blood across your face their only remains. The blast takes another part of the Temple off, giving you a path right to where the Cauldron still remains mounted atop the altar. Its three legs have been fused to the ancient stone, Hybern shielded behind it, his men in a semi-circle around the sides.

“Playing hero now, daughter?” He snarls.

“Come to me.”

You open your arms wide as you stalk towards him, a green mist from the Cauldron pouring out over the edges. Even as he swirls a hand through the fog, when It speaks, he offers no reaction, even under his control, the words are meant for you alone. In the end, fate has drawn the two of you together. 

“Give me your best shot!” You challenge.

“Closer. Come closer. Let me hold you.”

The next blast is stronger, pushing you backwards as debris from the now crumbling Temple rains down on your head. Outside, the clash of swords and cries of fighting men ring out. So Hybern is not foolish enough to keep all his men in one place, though that is a battle for the High Lords. You turn your attention away from the noise, swallowing the icy fire that bubbles in your chest from the influx of power, and hurl it back at the altar so hard the ancient stones crack. 

For the first time, Hybern falters, stepping back from the Cauldron with a hand over his face to shield himself from the blast. His men had not been so fortunate.

“You cannot withstand this forever,” Hybern warns.

“And these blasts are not without cost, I’d imagine,” you return. “How long can you hide behind your Cauldron?”

He swirls a hand over the fog, offering a soft chant that makes the Cauldron bubble and groan. The floor trembles as the Cauldron shakes and spits out another attack, this time going wide and brushing the side of your face as it blows the roof off the place. 

Your face is not as sturdy as your chest and the assault makes your ears ring, your right eye blurry. Overhead, Cassian’s Illyrian legion swoops and circles, the strange gems atop their hands pulsing like a dozen flashing lights. 

You shake your head to clear your vision as you turn back to your father. “Afraid to face me without your precious weapon?”

He growls, teeth flashing as he grips the lip of the Cauldron with both hands.

“Come play. Come free me.”

His hands twitch from holding the ancient metal, yet he won’t let it go. “You forget how powerless against me you were before, Daughter.”

You get a step closer, the stones shaking beneath your boots. The more blasts you take, the more stiff your body feels, there is only so much abuse you can take. “Before you released me of whatever limits my powers had, you mean?” You sneer. “I’d say we’re evenly matched now.”

“You’re out of your element!” He shouts.

The Cauldron pulses like a heartbeat, the metal screaming now and you have enough time to reach out a hand and catch it in your palm, even as your arms scream in protest. It is a concentrated effort to push that power back out of your palm, even more so to aim it back at his head. 

There isn’t time for him to shield, forcing him to take a step back away from the Cauldron, finally removing his hands from the lip. You waste no time in rushing forward and getting your own hand around the ancient metal. Instantly, it freezes you in place, the icy depths of whatever magic swirls within latches on like a thousand tiny hooks, fusing itself to you. It takes of you as you take of it, the exchange even and ceaseless.

You poke at the bridge between your mind and Rhys. “NOW!”

A blast of your father’s power slams into the back of your hand as he screams, trying to tear you away, but even though your skin breaks, blood spraying, you couldn’t let go if you wanted to. This is exactly where the Cauldron wants you and it’s exactly where you will stay until it’s done. 

“Yes! Finally! Play with me,” it purrs as Rhys and Helion burst into the room. Light and dark swirl around them like whirlwinds, blowing the walls away until the only thing left standing in the entirety of the Temple is the altar.

“Show me what you want,” you tell it as you try drawing it’s icy power into yourself. There is no end to it; no beginning either. It is you and you are it and the more you take into yourself, the more of you it steals. The mist it emanates slithers around your wrists and up your arms as your own darkness dips within it’s center and disappears. 

“We are made to destroy,” it sings. 

A scream tears out of you as it pushes more of itself into you, the wave of energy that escapes out your mouth shooting up into the sky, nearly taking out some of the Illyrians still swooping overhead. 

A shadow of Rhys’s power slithers into your mind, wrapping around you in a warm embrace. “You can do this. Fight it!”

“Show me what you want,” you insist as Hybern turns his attention away from you to face the High Lords running towards him. They are both powerful swordsmen, but the movements are stiff from years of disuse, their steps faltering as he pushes them back away from you with his own sword.

“He seeks to destroy,” the Cauldron purrs as if the thought makes it happy.

“Not him,” you say through your now chattering teeth. “You. What do you want?”

Rhys roars in pain behind you as Hybern clips his shoulder and Helion rushes to his aid, large broadsword angling for your father’s throat. Hybern catches Helion at the wrist and twists, snapping the Lord’s shoulder in one swift motion.

The Cauldron hums as if thinking. “Destruction is our way…”

“No,” you snarl. “You were once the instrument of life in Prythian! Destruction is not your only way, it is not my only way. If I can do more than kill, if I am more than a monster…” A monster would not have beaten Amarantha, would not have saved your mate, would not have fallen in love. Monsters do not feel, do not love. You brush a mental hand over the bond and draw another steadying breath, even as the cold seeps into your bones; makes your whole body shake. “We do not have to be weapons.”

From the treeline surrounding the ruins of the Temple, more and more of Hybern’s soldiers make it past the aerial units filtering above, clashing with the combined powers of the High Lords. Beron keeps them temporarily at bay with a wall of fire, but you can see the flames wavering, his weathered face pale and slick with sweat. Kallias and Tarquin remain back to back, using their powers to hurl projectiles over the wall of flame, holding steady, even as the sound of the labored breathing floats your way on the wind. They are holding, but it will not last forever. You need to even the playing field. 

“Please. Help me stop him,” you beg. “I will give you whatever you want.”

“I like this new game,” the Cauldron purrs.

The flow of power between you and it has not faltered, you keep pulling more and more of it in as it continues to take it back. Your knees give out beneath you, hands still fused to the lip as a cold sweat beads off your forehead. 

“Please,” you rasp. “Tell me what you want!”

Beron goes down with an arrow in the chest, his limp body collapsing into the earth so hard you feel the tremble of the impact. The Cauldron chuckles beneath your palms, still delighting in the destruction. 

“Helion!” Rhys roars as Hybern drives his sword across the Lord of Day’s stomach, his own blade swinging at Hybern’s neck.

You give the Cauldron a shake, “Come on! This can’t be what you want!” 

Rhys takes an elbow to the nose, blood spattering as Hybern outmaneuvers him, and barely manages to throw himself out of the way of the following strike, the blade leaving a gash in his fighting leathers. From overhead, Cassian spies the fight and angles himself away from his troops to come help, but it feels as if he’s moving in slow motion. Somehow, whether it’s the Cauldron’s power or the bond, you know something is about to be very, very wrong.

You grit your teeth, claws digging into the metal of the Cauldron and pull, skin peeling away as you get a hand off the lip to blast as much power as you can in Hybern’s direction. If the Cauldron will not help you, you will do this yourself. Nothing is going to take your mate from you ever again.

Cassian banks hard to avoid the blast, his cursing just audible over Hybern’s screaming. You’d known, just by the feel of it within your chest that this kind of power would be lethal, but watching as it burns through flesh and muscle, leaving nothing but exposed, stark white bone is enough to make your stomach rise into your throat. 

Hybern’s sword turns to ash in his skeletal hand, still raised above Rhys’s head in what would have been a killing blow. It’s nothing but bone all the way down to his shoulder, chunks of his armor blasted away, bits of blistered skin visible from where the blast had gone a little wide. A little to the left and you would have taken him and Rhys out. 

Your father gapes at you, more nightmare now than male.

“This is more fun than a bargain,” the Cauldron purrs. Perhaps it has been corrupted beyond repair, perhaps it can only be good when wielded by the right creature. Perhaps only the Mother had managed to tame the magic within and had left it an empty shell of what could have been.

You stop trying to take anything from it, and when you do, it lets your other hand free without injury. You slump against the altar as Rhys drives his sword through Hybern’s throat. Blood gurgles from his lips, eyes vacant and staring at the Cauldron as if in one final plea for help, before he falls face down in the grass.

The chaos that ensues in the next couple minutes feels like a fever dream as the Night Court’s forces drive the rest of Hybern’s away. Tarquin rushes to Helion, hands glowing in a strange light as the Spell-Cleaver instructs him on how to use his water magic to heal the gaping wound in his stomach. There is no saving Beron, Thesan confirms from where the dead man lies. 

Rhys rushes to your side, where you remain slumped against the Cauldron, eyes blurry as the world spins around you. He cups your face, gently tapping at your cheeks. “Hey, hey, stay with me! You’re ok. You did it!”

You lean your face into his touch, “Don’t suppose you know how to get rid of this thing, huh?”

The Cauldron hisses in response. 

He laughs, half-delirious with relief as he kisses your nose, your cheeks, your forehead. “We won! It’s over.”

It’s over.

You touch your forehead to his, body heavy, but laughing now yourself. “We did it!”

Azriel and Cassian come running as soon as it’s clear to do so, wings tucked tight behind them. “Everybody ok?”

Rhys kisses you, his lips still bloody, but you don’t have it in you to care as you return it. It is finally over; you are more than ok.

------

You watch the sunset across a glittering horizon, the warm rays bouncing off the rolling waves lapping at your ankles. The sand is warm beneath your feet, a supernatural ward keeping the water cool instead of frozen like it should be this time of year. 

Footsteps sound behind you, the only warning you get before strong arms wrap around your waist. Your mate’s breath warm against your skin as he kisses your neck. “Enjoying the view?”

Any sight with sunlight is a luxury, you savor every wisp of wind, every ray of sunshine against your still pale skin. It will be awhile before either of you get any color back.

“More so now that you’re here,” you say with a grin as he places another kiss on your cheek. 

He’d wanted to go straight back to the Night Court, but the matter of the Cauldron still remained. Eventually the High Lords, and the newly crowned Eris, had decided it needed to be returned to its resting place with the nephilim Miriam and her husband Drakon, who had suffered heavy losses when Hybern had marched through and stolen it. Under Helion’s instructions, the Cauldron’s legs had once again been cleaved and separated, and in doing so, the ancient artifact had finally, blissfully, gone silent. Rhys, long standing friends with Miriam and Drakon, had offered to take this piece back before returning home. It seemed only fitting that you followed to ensure no one else attempted to wield it.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you say after a moment of silence, only the crashing of the waves between the two of you.

Rhys settles against your back, body sturdy and warm. His pulse against you should be enough to convince you that this isn’t a dream, but you’re still waiting for something else to jump out from behind the rocks dotting the landscape and surprise you. Any minute now the dream will crumble and once again, stone walls will cover every inch of your surroundings.

“We’re out,” Rhys promises.

You wait, expecting to hear heels clicking against stone or a buzzing of a collar against your throat. It’s a miracle you can stand in the water at all without feeling your throat close up. 

You lace your fingers with his, holding them tight where he rests them against your stomach. “We’re out,” you whisper.

Cassian and Azriel had come along, their boots heavy against the fine sand as they approach. 

“We leaving or what?” Cassian asks.

Azriel punches him hard in the shoulder. “I thought I told you to give them a minute!”

“They’ve had plenty of minutes, any longer they’re gonna start making out, and I, for one, would like to be somewhere far away before that happens.” Cassian returns.

“It’s like dealing with toddlers,” Rhys whispers in your ear.

You release his hand so you can turn in his arms, palms flat against his chest. Most of the damage inflicted during the fight is healed, though there is still some bruising around his eyes from his broken nose. It’s unfair that he’s still the most beautiful male you’ve ever seen, even with the bruising. 

“You know you’ve missed their antics.”

He grins, violet eyes glittering like a thousand stars and you promise yourself you’ll do anything to keep that look on his face. There has been enough pain and grief to last the rest of your lives.

“That I have,” he admits.

“Then we should probably get the little Illyrian baby back before he gets hungry,” you retort.

“Hey!” Cassian scoffs.

Rhys hums his approval as he places a gentle kiss on your lips. “I do have some bargains to fulfill, after all.”

You glance down at your bandage covered hands as if you can see the lack of ink there, the destroyed bond still tender, even now. 

He draws his hand up to give yours a squeeze, before bringing it to his lips. “Broken or not, I intend to keep it.”

“We could make some new ones I’m sure,” you muse.

“Can we please leave?” Cassian whines. 

Rhys ignores him, eyes glinting in challenge. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, I seem to recall a few suggestions you had…”

His lips are on yours again, hungry and wanting and the tether between you burns hot. “I’ll make as many bargains as you’d like, Darling.”

“Home first,” you force yourself to pull away and say, because if you keep letting him kiss you like that, neither of you will be leaving the beach. 

He grins, shoulders rolling back, and from behind him a set of massive, bat-like wings appear. You gape, even as your head spins with the recollection that you had once thought there was something missing between the gaps of the tattoos on his back. The leathery membrane stretches out behind him like one would stretch their arms, fluttering slightly in the evening breeze. 

You reach out a hand to give them a inquisitory touch and he swings them out of reach. “Not here,” he purrs in your ear.

Before you can ask why, he sweeps you up into his arms and launches into the sky. You toss your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut as your stomach lurches into your throat.

“It’s more enjoyable if your eyes are open, Darling,” he laughs, wings beating hard to catch the right draft that will take you to the Night Court.

“I like to keep my stomach where it belongs, but thanks,” you mutter, burying your face in his neck to hide from the wind. 

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights?” He teases.

“Heights? No. Falling? Yes,” you return.

“You know I’d never drop you,” he says in all seriousness.

You let out a huff of annoyance, because damn him, his right and you know it. After everything, there is still no safer place to be than in your mate’s arms. You open one eye, then the other, and take a shaky breath before finally turning your head to the side to see the vast expanse of open sky around you. 

The sun has slowly set, the sky awash in purples and blues as the first bit of stars appear in the sky. Rhys tilts and dips around the fluffiest clouds you’ve ever seen in your life, but you can’t help yourself from removing your arm from around his shoulders to try and touch one. They’re a lot more wet than you anticipated them being. 

“I never thought I’d see this again,” Rhys whispers.

You kiss his cheek, flooding the bond with as much warmth as you can. It’ll be easier, once you’ve fully accepted it, and you plan to, once things are a little more settled. It would be a lot for him to return home to, you want to give him some time to just be home before tackling a new heightened sense of emotions and all that comes with being mated, but you already have a few ideas on how you want to go about it. For now, you’ll keep this thing between you simple and not overwhelming. 

“Thank you, for getting us out,” he says.

“I didn’t do that much,” you reply. “We did it together.”

“It was all you,” he returns. “I think that collar messed up your memories a little.”

“My memories are fine,” you retort with an eye roll, even though he can’t see it. “We did it together, as we planned to. As we’ll do with whatever comes next.”

He grins as he follows a draft downwards, three mountain peaks coming into view. Somehow, you can feel in your chest when you cross the border, as if you very bones know that this is where you’re meant to be. He glides lower, letting you view the snow flecked landscape beneath you, grinning as he takes in the way you devour his court with your eyes. “Welcome to the Night Court.”

---------------------------------------

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[writingquestionsanswered]

Distancing Character from Person of Same Name

Anonymous asked: I'm writing a fanfiction about an obscure pairing, and some time ago I met a person who has the same name as one of the characters, and now writing about this pairing makes me a little uncomfortable. It's a pretty common name, but I also see this person quite often and it's just weird for me. Do you have any advice so I can separate the character and the person in my head?

Here are some things you could try to distance this character from the person you know in real life who has the same name:

1 - Keep a Character Visual Handy - If you're writing fan-fiction about a canon character, you can search for promo pictures of the character. Or, if it's an OC or an original fiction character, you can try casting the character (see guide here: Guide: Casting Your Characters) with a real actor/model to help you visualize them. Try printing the picture out and tacking it up someplace where you can see it while you write. You could also keep it open on your phone, laptop screen, etc. This will help keep the character fresh in your mind as you write.

2 - Watch Clips or a Character Tribute - If you're writing fan-fiction and you're writing canon characters, odds are good there are clips or even fan-made character tributes of this character on YouTube. Watching some clips or a character tribute before you write is another great way to make sure the character is fresh in your head, rather than the person you know who shares their name. If you're writing an OC or original fiction and you've cast your character with a real actor or model, you could look for clips of movies or shows they're in that closely matches the vibe of your character, and watch those before you write. Or, you could put together some character aesthetics/mood boards and look at those before you write.

3 - Make a List of Differences - Try making a list of all the ways you can think of that your character and their inadvertent namesake are different. No detail is too small. When you're around the real person with that name, really try to focus on the things that make them different from your character.

4 - Change Up the Name a Bit - If you're writing a canon character, your options might be limited, but see if there's a canon nickname for this character you can lean on in your story that makes sense. For example, let's say the shared name is Madison, and the person you know in real life only ever goes by Madison. But maybe the canon character is sometimes called Madi by other characters... if you use Madi as often as it makes sense, that can help to create some distance.

If you're writing an OC or original fiction, you have more room to give your character a nickname of your choosing, and most names have a variety of possible nicknames. You could also try altering the spelling or changing the name to something that sounds very similar.

5 - Talk About It - If you're comfortable talking to this person about that fact that you're a writer, see if you can find an opportunity to share that you happen to be writing about a character with the same name. If it's a fan-fiction character, you can say something like, "Have you ever heard of the TV show ----? There's a character in it named -----, and I've been writing about her and another character, so I always think about that character when I see you." Or, something like that. Sometimes, just getting it out of your head (if possible) can sort of interrupt the connection in your head.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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