#it would just be a pain in the ass because of the sap

[gonebutnotdead]

I also want to collect my own fiber be it hemp flax cotton or agave

And I want to start buying raw wool too

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi!! i’ve been searching high and low for fanfic since seeing deadpool and wolverine LOL so i was wondering if you could do either head canons or a small fic (whichever you prefer) about deadpool x reader x wolverine? either a poly relationship or both of them trying to compete and woo reader? maybe it could take place during the movie events? tysm!

Your relationship with Wade and Logan oftentimes consisted of them trying to hog your for themselves, which leads to the other getting jealous and or upset, so much so to the point where they’ll end up squabbling over you preferred more.

This is not new as the pair seemingly have something against sharing but overtime it does get better and they’re less likely to fight over you and who gets your attention.

They’ve even had it scheduled out at one point but that didn’t last as either Wade or Logan would accuse the other of prolonging their time with you to the point it was intersecting with the other pre established times slots.

Logan: Oi scrotum face! You’ve been hogging them five minutes more than established!

Wade, acting coy as he clings onto you; oh am I? I’m pretty sure my cuddle session was 11:30 until 12:30pm-

Logan: it’s 12:35 dickhead!

Wade: *gasps* oh my gosh you’re right! I guess time must’ve slipped my mind when cuddling my pookie here *boops you on the nose*

Logan: *not too impressed*

When they’re not at each other’s throats over who you love more, they’re wooing you as though you’re not already fucking dating the pair of them. Particularly Wade more so than Logan. 💀

You’d find Wade draped across your bed with a rose held between in his hands, buck naked and with nothing but a pillow to cover his dick or ‘the surprise’ he calls it.

‘You can peg me tonight.’ ;) - Wade

‘I am so honoured, ass up baby girl.’ - you (probably)

Logan isn’t use to soft touches of love, he really isn’t and so if you were to ever kiss the places where his wounds once were before they healed, he’d melt. His smile is soft as he silently watched you kiss the knuckles, completely unafraid of his claws popping out and or caressing the calluses on his palms. At long last his soul was at ease, his mind was quiet as all Logan could focus on was you being tender and soft with him as though he hadn’t lived through the past 200 years of pain, trauma and suffering.

You treated him like he was just Logan Howlett and nothing more, not wolverine, not weapon X, just Logan and only Logan for that’s who the man sitting next to you was. You helped numb the pain whilst holding his hand through the nights were he awakes breathless and his claws out and ready.

Logan panics if he were to see that he accidentally nicked you with his claws during his nightmares, for hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do, and would try to push you away whenever you tried to get closer to him. He has hurt you and he shouldn’t be worthy of your comfort when all he could see was the really small nick on your arm.

‘Logan-‘

‘Don’t. I hurt you.’

‘It’s only a small cut, I’m fine Logan please.’

‘No! What if next time I cut you badly?’

Your heart broke whenever he got like this, so naturally you had to force yourself into his arms and make him come to terms with the fact that he would never hurt your willingly and grab ahold of his face, resting your foreheads together as you told him to focus on you and your breathing; showing him that you were alive and well.

Wade might as well have whined when you kissed his skin where wounds should’ve been before they healed. They’re his favourite moments between the two of you and would even imitate it back to you, but without the wounds, so it’s just him kissing your skin wherever whenever. He might even blow raspberries to keep the spirit of your somewhat goofy relationship alive and well.

Wade has photos of your dates, movie nights and such kept in somewhere in his room, whether that he a box or album, he has them and will look at them and smile because he’s a sap for making memories that’ll live forever much like him. He cares deeply about you and would even keep tokens or other random things as mementos too.

Some are more weirder than others.

‘This was a ticket when we went to the arcade.’

‘Oh this is that stick we both said looks like a penis when we took Dogpool to the dog park.’

‘This was the bandaid that you tried to use to cover my wounds before you found out either of me or wolvie could heal-‘

Logan and Wade don’t like to share, that we already know, but if someone who wasn’t aware of your polyamorous relationship with the two and decided to shoot their shot, they’d know first hand how much these men don’t play with you as Wade verbally beats them down with his crude sense of humour and Logan hovers over you, glaring as the poor person until they’ve ran away with their tail between their legs.

Remy?

Logan would growl and glare at the man while keeping a possessive hand on your waist, tugging you to his side to show that you were taken, or even have you wear his jacket to further get the point across to Remy.

Wade would just make a big joke out of it all the while having his hand in your back pocket. ‘You cant have our pookie, go get your own magic mike.’

Also when it comes to cuddling at night your either between Wade and Logan or Logan is in between you and Wade, or Wade is in between you and Logan. It changes now and then but when you’re in the middle of them both, it’s the safest you’ll ever be in your entire life, nothing can get to you and you can rest easily knowing that you’ve got two men who’d do anything to keep you safe and secure.

[apollos-boyfriend]

Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that

okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed

this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.

DAY 3 EDIT:

now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.

day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new

day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).

the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.

[toji-sweetheart]

Hello ✨ Can I please get Reiner with #37 please & thank you !

18+ only content - mdni

hello, bb! I haven't written for Reiner in so long so I might be a bit dusty lmaooo I hope you're well 🥺 - kick-off event

tags: fem reader + explicit smut

You loved everything about Reiner.

From how sweet and gentle he was with you and animals, anytime you two were out and happened to see a stray this man led you into the nearest store to buy food and feed it before he snapped a picture.

He really was a gentle giant, a teddy bear.

Your husband was soft and kind.

But you wanted more than just lovemaking that consisted of him going slow as not to hurt you, knowing his cock was thick and powerful resting between his equally thick and powerful thighs.

In between thrusts, Reiner would pepper your face in slow kisses while asking if you were okay as he slowly dragged his cock against the walls of your twitching cunt that sucked him in while your fingers dug into his shoulders holding onto him wanting it harder, rougher.

Reiner would do absolutely anything for you but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, even on accident, the guilt would eat him alive so you kept quiet until finally you exploded one night.

"Please be rough with me Rei, I'm not made of glass." You whined as his tongue traced your quivering hole before dipping it in to slurp the sweet nectar that flowed from your pussy like a sticky sap.

His lust-hazed eyes met yours from between your thighs while the both of you were sprawled on the bed as you pouted while propping yourself up on your elbows. Reiner kissed your clit hearing you sigh.

A lot of the times Reiner had to stop himself from fucking you deeper, to bring you to incredible heights, but the fear of hurting you even a little pushed the thought away each time. "I know dove." He hummed.

"Then why won't you treat me like a sex rag doll or something?" You all but whined shutting your legs when he sat up to cup your face, his lips shiny with your slick as he stared at you intently.

Reiner traced your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you. "Because you're my wife, you deserve more than that." He replied in a soft tone that made you want to roll your eyes in defiance.

"I can be your personal pornstar, you don’t have to be gentle. I won’t break so fuck me like you mean it, please." You begged and moved to peel the rest of your clothes off before assuming the face down and ass up position wiggling in front of Reiner's face like a treat.

He growled low in his throat and leaned in to attach his mouth to your pussy, this time his licks became a little rougher and frenzied as his thick fingers massaged the fat of your ass drowning himself in your essence while his cock pulsed ready to feel you around him.

Before your orgasm could wash over you, Reiner pulled himself away before he ended up there all night drunk on your pussy.

You felt the heavy hot weight of his cock that he rested on the curve of your ass that he spread before leaning back a little to watch your cunt stretch around the tip accommodating the girth of him.

Your jaw went slack as he thrust all the way in, the leaky tip kissing your cervix feeling so full you whined and bucked your hips when his finger glided over your clit with soft circles as he slowly fucked into you before picking up pace until your ass was slamming against him.

Sex filled the room along with flesh slapping against flesh, the bed creaked with his thrusts that sent you forward, your feet coming up giving him more leverage to keep you in place.

Pain and pleasure created an intoxicating blend that simmered low in your belly before filling your limbs with a heavy sensation. "Rei! Coming!" You cried with tears filling your eyes.

Reiner didn't need you to tell him.

He could feel and watch your pussy flutter around him creating a creamy white ring around his shaft that drove him crazy, pounding into you until the headboard was clacking on the wall at a rhythmic pace that matched his sack that clapped against your swollen clit.

His orgasm shot up his spine spilling his thick load into your warm cunt that gushed out a glob of it on the sheets when he pulled out when the both of you caught your breath.

"So fuck you like that?" He asked leaning over to grab his water bottle for you to sip from while he petted your head giving you praise for being so good and taking him like that.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot to me and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 26 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-The next day, he does not even try to ply you with the promise of release. He is not cruel, but he simply takes what he wants from your increasingly sore body, offering nothing in return. You almost prefer this, at this point, except he is absolutely running you ragged. You’d thought you could wear him out with your advantage of youth, but this man is fucking insatiable.

By the next day, you can’t stop yourself from begging, when he wakes you with insistent kisses on your neck and sweet nothings delivered with a growl in your ear. “John…I can’t,” you whine. “Please, I need a break.”

He dismisses this with a disbelieving snort, thinking you are crying wolf, no doubt. But when he flips you to fuck you from behind, something he’s grown increasingly fond of over the past few days, because he likes the shape of your ass, the tight angle—or that he doesn’t have to look into your accusing expression—you find yourself crying into the pillow.

It hurts.

You are bruised to the point where you cannot sit comfortably, and even with the impossible buckets of slick your body has somehow produced in his presence, he has rubbed you raw.  

And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

This is the litany that runs through your mind, and it breaks your heart more than anything else he’s done to you so far. That he is so far gone in his madness that you hardly recognize him…

This is the thing that breaks you, and certainly not in the way he intended.

You start to cry even harder into the pillow, the wound in your heart far more devastating to you than anything physical. You feel it in your chest like you did take a blade or a bullet, an agonizing ache that makes you wish for numbness more than anything that has transpired. This is worse than the kidnapping, worse than him dangling you on the edge of pleasure for days on end.

This is the thing that will sap your will to live, and you can almost see the spiraling dark maw of the abyss that looms before you.

This is also the only thing for days that has given him the slightest pause. He drapes himself over you to gather you in his arms.

“Are you crying, baby girl?”  

“Yes,” you sniff.

You’ve pretty much taken everything he’s thrown at you until now with a lifted chin and a do your worst. Tears of despair actually seem to throw him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re hurting me, and you don’t care.” You know you sound as despondent as you feel. “The man I fell for protected me, he killed for me, but I never thought he would hurt me. Who even are you?” A new wave of anguish makes you sob into the pillow. It is not pretty crying, sweet glittering tears sliding down your cheeks. This is ugly crying, the expulsion of pain from the darkest depths of your soul, and once it starts you cannot stop.

He goes still as a statue behind you, ceasing even to breathe, the only motion the throb of his rock-hard cock still buried inside you. You do not know if you have displeased him, and he’s dreaming up some new punishment—or if just this once, he actually hears you.

You’re not exactly a religious person, but you find yourself praying to whatever laughing god that might take mercy on you, that he finally hears you.

He stays like this for what feels like an eternity, but can’t be more than a minute at most.

You are shocked, when carefully he slides out you, rolling to pull you against his chest, his big hand protectively cradling the side of your head, holding you hard enough to squeeze the breath from you. You realize, to your astonishment, he is shaking too, and he lets out a long, slow breath, pressing his lips to your hair.

This would have inspired excitement in you, if you weren’t so goddammed exhausted. Wrung out, body and soul. As it is, it takes all your control not to break down and weep again. He doesn’t say he’s sorry outright, but he holds you like he is. At this point, you’ll take what you can get amidst this madness you’re trapped in.

He kisses you again with a promise of, “I’ll be back,” and disappears into the bathroom. You hear the taps of the bathtub running. This too, you have learned to dread. But you cannot fight him, when he returns to scoop you up in his arms, and lowers the two of you together in the rising warm water.   

You wait for the usual shenanigans—but they do not come. He just…holds you, and you only keep yourself together by a thread. With a tremulous sigh of relief you dare to settle further into his arms, savoring this closeness without the threat of sex in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he says against the top of your head. “You just…you make me crazy.”

It’s perhaps the closest thing to the truth he’s said since you’ve gotten here.

“I’ll give you a rest,” he promises, and if you hadn’t been sitting you might have fallen over with surprise.

“Thank you,” you say, relieved to the tips of your toes, kissing him sweetly. It’s a gentle press of lips that curls your toes, and a strangled little sound escapes from somewhere deep in his chest.

You pretend not to see it, but there is a glitter of a tear in the corner of his eye too.

After a little while he kisses your cheek, saying again, “I’ll be back.”

You watch him exit the tub and cinch a towel around his narrow waist. Despite everything, you admit that you have yet to tire of the view. Water beading on that man’s skin is a thing to inspire the songs of angels.

Or demons, perhaps, but either way it is divine to behold.

You wait, but he doesn’t return.

You linger in the water until it begins to cool, wondering what he’s up to.

It is telling of what a cautious creature you’ve become, for the way you are reluctant to move from the place he left you. But your fingers are turning to prunes, so you get out of the bath, drying yourself off and slathering yourself with the wonderful smelling lotion he’d gifted you, that cost a whole day’s pay from your time at the coffee shop.

It is hard not to gauge the cost of things against hours of your life, when you work in service. What are your hours worth now? You realize you don’t even know what day it is.

For the first time in a while you take a moment to actually look at yourself in the mirror. Your body is riddled with constellations of love bites in various states of healing, bruises in every shade of the rainbow. John Wick has marked you in just about every way a man can, yet still, you hold out.

Perhaps it is you who is delusional about this situation.  

When you exit the bathroom you freeze in your tracks, hardly believing your eyes. The door—THE DOOR!—is hanging wide open, almost in invitation.

Rather than excitement, your first reaction is a thrill of fear running down your spine, as you wonder if it is a sick test.

But in the end, you cannot resist.

Wary of appearances, you throw on one of your numerous new silky nighties and a blue robe that is impossibly soft upon your skin. What mad woman would attempt to make an escape dressed like this? You hope the odds are in your favor. 

On soft feet you pad to the top of the stairs, peeking over the landing. The smell of fresh brewed coffee wafts up towards you, and the sound of something frying in the kitchen. Cautiously you descend, making your way towards the promise of culinary delights.

For the second time in ten minutes, the sight before you makes you freeze in your tracks.  

John is busy cooking in the kitchen, wearing a black kimono-style robe that gapes over his bare chest. He is very intently reading a recipe, whipping something in a bowl, and watching a sizzling hot pan.

You stand there, still as a statue, drinking in the sight until Dog blows your cover, trotting over to greet you with a wagging tail. You get down on your knees to hug him and scratch his ears. You have not seen him since your first escape attempt, and though you strangely hadn’t really doubted John would keep his word, you are relieved to receive proof of life.

“How does French toast sound?” John asks, as though today is a normal day in a string of normal days, and you live and eat together like two normal people who cohabitate.

“It sounds lovely,” you admit, cautiously perching on one of the barstools. “Can I help?”

“No, sweetheart, let me take care of you.” You wonder if this is more to keep you away from the potential weapon of a heavy, hot pan full of bacon and grease, but you are fine to sit and watch him.

You notice the knife block is completely emptied of blades.

When you are seated together in the breakfast nook, your legs tangled under the little table, dining off melamine plates with plastic utensils but enjoying a very good meal none the less, John throws you for yet another curveball.

“I’m sorry, that I’ve been so…insatiable,” he says. He could have knocked you off your stool with a feather. “I…” He shakes his head, clenching his fist on the table, the tendons in his forearm popping. “I just want you, so much.”

Your lip quivers at hearing that, and the truth spills from your lips before you can even think to hold it in. “I want to be wanted by you, John! It’s all I’ve wanted, since…the first moment I saw you.” If you’re being honest. “But all this…?” You wave your hands in an encompassing manner, unsure how else to express what he’s put you through.

It’s a lot, would be the understatement of the year. You’re not able to get it out though, because there’s a stone lodged in your throat, and suddenly you’re not sure if you want to cry or throw up.

Seeing you’re distressed again, he opens his arms to you. “C’mere.” It’s like walking into the claws of the dragon, you know, but you shuffle over to fall into his lap anyway. How insane is it, that this man is the flame that burns you, and the only balm that soothes you? He holds you tight against his chest, rocking you gently. You manage not to cry again, but you can’t stop shaking for a long time.

Only once you settle down does he speak again. “You are tough, you know that? I didn’t realize I was hurting you.”

You blink, unsure for a good minute what the fuck to say to that. The truth is that it is unfathomable, what savagery women can endure, when they have to. You’re not sure you want to say that aloud to him.

It might come off as a challenge.

You are hardly winning any trophies for fastest comeback, when finally you quip into his collarbone, “You forgot you’re dealing with a junior blackbelt. We are trained in the ways…”

He looks down at you for a long second, as though he’s not sure if you’re joking or not. And then it is like the sun breaking from the clouds when he smiles, a genuine, toothy flash of mirth that mercilessly squeezes your heart in your chest. He looks almost boyish in that moment, and it is beautiful to behold.

“So I forgot,” he admits, kissing your forehead. 

“I guess you’re like…50th dan or some shit?” you ask, referring to his own belt ranking.

He chuckles at that, though there is a note of melancholy beneath it. “We don’t count dan where I trained, sweetheart. Just bodies on the ground.”

“That’s a lovely thought over breakfast…”

He snorts. “You remind me of me, you know, when I was younger,” he tells you quietly.

“How so?” you ask, thinking you’re not that tough.

“Too stubborn for my own good.” He smiles again, softer this time, but no less heartbreaking. He is not making fun of you. It is almost like he’s…commiserating with you, and it’s weird as hell. “I’ll give you a week to heal. Alright?”

You didn’t expect him to give you an hour, much less a week. “Okay…”

“Ok, what?” he prompts with a smirk, that breathtaking twinkle in his eye that makes you want to throttle him and kiss him all at once.

You can hardly refrain from rolling your eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

He sighs at hearing it, like a sated lion.

You wonder if he’ll keep his word.

[deathbealady]

wait a minute

was it ever explained how Brannagh and Dagdan are daemati and magically never fucking realized that Jurian was playing the King of Hybern like Tamlin playing a fiddle?

you mean to tell me that the sadistic and gross Brannagh and Dagdan never bothered to go into Jurian’s mind, not even just for shits and giggles because they like to torture humans??

I know SJM explains that Rhysand (and Feyre for that matter) didn’t think to check, but that’s also kind of a really stupid excuse. Yeah sure he’s gonna be mentally/emotionally/physically scarred from all the bs he’s been through, and it might’ve made him crazy in any number of ways, but he’s clearly of sound enough mind to be acting on behalf of Hybern in some capacity. Changing loyalties to turn against his own people is out of character to say the least, but certainly not outside the realm of possibility

Also, Jurian knew of daemati and expected them to do daemati things. He told Rhysand he figured he would’ve read his thoughts and known where his true loyalties lay. I don’t recall mention of him having mental shields, and as a human, how would he have known how to put any up? Doesn’t it require magic? And just assuming he could do it despite being human, how effectively would he be able to maintain such shields as a human, especially if he’s up against a more powerful and practiced daemati, let alone two??

Related: it’s established that daemati are not only able to read minds, but manipulate memories and essentially brainwash/control the minds of their targets. Why the fuck wouldn’t Rhysand check to see if Jurian hadn’t been brainwashed into serving the king of Hybern??? Especially after knowing that Hybern had at least 2 daemati rolling with Jurian, who could monitor and control his behavior in the Spring Court.

And for THAT matter, how did Brannagh and Dagdan not notice that Tamlin was also biding his time to double cross Hybern? I may be misremembering, but wasn’t there a whole-ass scene where Feyre had to go in and create mental shields for Tamlin and Lucien to protect them from Brannagh and Dagdan?? She protected his mind then, but it was also a lot of strain on her magic that was being sapped by the faebane. And in any case, it’s not a stretch to think Tamlin wouldn’t have met them before

It’s already stupid enough that a high lord like Tamlin and the son of a high lord like Lucien, somehow do not have training to protect themselves from daemati. It’s an especially stupid plot hole for Tamlin, who was once friends with Rhysand, and likely would’ve known about Rhysand’s abilities given their history. You mean to tell me that if he didn’t learn how to protect himself from daemati before or during their friendship, Tamlin just never thought “hey maybe I should learn to protect myself from daemati just in case”??? And especially not after the big falling out he’d had with Rhysand?!?!

This was honestly supposed to be a quick shower thoughts level post about Jurian but the more I thought about it, the more I realized NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE! These books truly do such terrible disservices to the most interesting characters and it is so painful to watch it happen

[yarnzipangirl]

Names, Identity, and Power

(Malevolent rambling ahead!)

This is 100% probably going to be less grand than the essay I've got going in my head but here's central thesis: names and identities are a huge part of the power that characters have in this story.

By which I mean: when a character is the self that they choose to be, and lean into the name/identity they chose themselves, they are stronger. When they try to be what is expected, what others put on them, that's when they get in trouble. It's all about their individual purpose, the meaning they CHOOSE to their life.

John

Your biggest example of this is, of course, John. When John is being John, that's when he's able to accomplish things. He saved Arthur's life by dragging him to the road with one arm. He chose to stay with Arthur and the King Could Not Force Him during the ritual. He pulled Arthur through everything in Addison by being the person he WANTS to be. And when push came to shove during ep 40, not only did he discover a new ability, but he was able to beat an opponent that had been sapping his strength and who had (technically) kicked the shit out of him before when, by all logic, he should be weaker (since he was in Arthur).

But in all those cases, he was defending someone he cared about. He was standing up and protecting something that mattered to him. He was standing against the King in Yellow, denying that identity and holding fast to his own. He was defiant that He Is Not That, that he is JOHN. He was choosing to be John, choosing Arthur, choosing hope.

We have two situations that went the opposite way to this: fighting the King in Yellow in the Dreamlands: got his ASS BEAT by the KiY and tossed into the Dark World. Because he was thinking of himself as just a piece/half/whatever of the King in Yellow to be assimilated. He gave up being John as part of that situation! And in the witch's cave: he doesn't call himself an entity known as John Doe. He is the King in Yellow and you have to respect him and WHOOPSYDOODLE did that all fall completely flat. He wasn't able to do shit with all his bluster and shouting and projecting. Total wet fart. How did he win that day?

By being John. By being crafty. By keeping his head and leaning on an ally (Yorick), by not relying on pure power OR his identity as the King in Yellow. No power, back to the wall, pure headology, good enough to make Arthur proud. He was John Doe: patient and clever and finding a solution.

Because he is not the King in Yellow. The narrative has definitively told us this TWICE: he cannot be the King in Yellow anymore. So every time he tries to go back to that well, it's dry. It fails. It's when he leans into being this new entity, John Doe, (a 'great old one named John', so to speak) that he can pull things off.

(Which is also, I think, why Kayne makes pains despite technically respecting his new status as John to remind him over and over of how he's really the King in Yellow /cough this is my red string board MOVING ON)

Yellow

Obviously you talk about John, you got to talk about Yellow. And Yellow went the opposite direction: pretender to the throne, wants to be the King in Yellow so bad he can taste it.

He isn't either. But he's leaning into what that identity is, trying to be it, so much more than John. And thus, he's a lot more effective with those kind of tactics than John; it's all part and parcel, identity and means to use that identity.

But ultimately, Yellow is a pretender. Ultimately, Yellow doesn't want dominion, he wants love. I would say it's even odds between whether he knows that's what he wants but he's denying it because it isn't a part of the KiY or whether he thinks dominion will get him all the love he's craving, prove him to be the 'better' half, and doesn't know that it can't. But Yellow has no central identity of his own, didn't get a chance to build one, and thus he's trying to live up to Larson's expectations (and to a lesser degree, Kayne's, to be a second John) and he ends up failing at both.

...which is a tragedy. #justiceforyellow

He cannot be John because he wasn't formed into John through his experiences with Arthur and he cannot be the KiY because he isn't, any more than John is. Which is why despite the fact that this half of the KiY kicked John's ass back in ep20... John kicked his ass during ep40.

John knows who he is. Yellow doesn't.

Kayne and Yorick

These two are two sides of a coin (badum ching) because they're both schemers and I think they both KNOW this better than John does, who's just kinda muddling along trying to figure it out.

Kayne is not Nyarla. He has taken pains to not be that. Killed others to not be that. He has, I think, liberated himself from the restrictions and possibly the obligations of being Nyarla by being Kayne. He saw someone break the rules with Shub and said 'sign me the hell up'. It's why he got so angry at Larson: because names and identities have power and trying to make him 'just' Nyarla again is literally a detriment to him. Cannot be tolerated. Nope.

And Yorick found a different way to do it: he didn't give himself a new name or forge a new name for himself, he used his Master to give him a new name, changing the rules, changing the game. John said, back in ep.10 when the vanguard first was discussed:

"A vanguard would only watch - could only watch, and is never with a foot in this world, and all to serve whichever monstrous entity they were bound to."

Except we've seen him take a body and do things with it. We've seen him demand deals from his 'master'. I even wonder if it has unbound him, potentially, or if that's part of HIS identity now: he is John and Arthur's Yorick and not just the King in Yellow's vanguard. Unsure but it sure seems like being Yorick is important to him! (stay tuned for my eventual 'Yorick is not the traitor you think he is' ramble).

Arthur

And you can't talk about this whole thing without talking about Arthur. And Arthur's struggle is a lot more of how he thinks of who Arthur Lester is, what Arthur Lester is.

Arthur Lester is a detective. He's someone who finds things out, who tries to answer questions, who LEARNS and DISCOVERS etc. He's SMART and he relies on his knowledge and his thinking and he PROTECTS people. He also does best WITH OTHERS. He is UNCOMPROMISING and STUBBORN and he doesn't bend. He's strong, accomplishes great things, when he does that. When he thinks like that.

He wouldn't have been a good husband because he didn't want that, but he was a good father because he did! He's a great detective and he was a good composer/makes beautiful music because he's passionate about it but he could never be what Daniel wanted to make him.

And when he and John are on different pages, when he wallows in his rage and anger and makes it about punishing himself... that's when things go wrong for him. I am constantly amazed at how quickly and easily Kayne gets Arthur distracted and doesn't let this man think critically about what he's doing/saying/acting and how easily it puts Arthur in a vulnerable position. He's pointedly OFFENSIVE, goes for the attack, proactive... and Kayne puts him on his back foot in every way.

And I think that's a big part of what this Black Stone and possibly the Grey Stone thing were about. Because Arthur, like John, is his experiences. It's what he's survived. It's his five tragic backstories in a trenchcoat. And Kayne's offer to change fate is, I think, both a way to keep Arthur not thinking about what they're doing... and a way of trying to lead him towards making himself less... himself. Faroe is a part of him. Faroe, we know, is the light inside of him. He wouldn't be as far as he's gotten without her spark. And getting her back through a deal with a Devil?

Not Arthur Lester.

Whatever he is that fascinates Kayne (or possibly scares him, or possibly can't be manipulated directly by him), I get the feeling Kayne wants to hand it to him to eliminate the problem.

CAN'T WAIT TO FIND OUT HERE'S YOUR AWKWARD ESSAY END BYEEEEE

[lets-all-calm-down-a-bit]

feeling really down rn cause i dont handle fights well in media (because i have to deal with those too often irl) so heres some happy/domestic thoughts i have about house and wilson:

first of all, from what we see of house in relationships/when hes openly (or privately) in love with someone, hes caring. hes protective, hes caring, and well, hes gentle. i'd like to think if he and wilson actually did get together, he would be like that with him. not in public, but in private where no one could pin him as a sap- he would be compassionate, and kind. its a big stretch to think he would act like that in front of other people. he has a reputation to maintain, dammit! but i think when they're alone, he would make sure wilson knows he loves him.

and thats not to say he would drop the bitchyness. he would still be a pain in the ass. thats just house! but i think he would have more genuine moments through the sarcasm. and if wilson needed him to be serious, he would be. because the main thing keeping house from being sincere with wilson is the fear of vulnerability. if house and wilson were together, then he would have had to already break down that wall, just like he did for stacy.

i also think he would have a lot of guilt. a lot of guilt for the years of mistakes he made simply because he couldnt open up. he still doesnt open up to people, but now that hes opened up to wilson, it feels like all those years he spent building his carefree, sarcastic persona, were wasted.

wilson would be the same as ever. selfless, sappy, unafraid of showing affection. but he wouldnt always give in. amber taught him to take care of himself, and i really think if house passed that stage of repression with wilson, he would be doing the same thing. i think there would obviously be moments where house exploits the fact that wilson is a pushover, but it wouldnt come as often. because once house crossed that line into the vulnerable area, he knew if he fucked up and went too far it would ruin everything.

i love their canon dynamic when living together. house loves wilson's cooking, we already know that. we ALSO know house loves bragging about wilson's cooking. i think house would use their changed relationship status as a way to piss off his fellows even more than usual. he wouldnt be genuine at work. he wouldnt show real vulnerability or softness. but he WOULD play up the cheesy gross pda, and disgusting pet names, and ridiculous sex jokes just because he knows it drives people nuts.

it would just be another layer of insincerity imo. he wouldnt actually flirt with wilson at work, or kiss him and say something sappy. what he would do is say the most annoying, toothrottingly ridiculous things just to get a reaction out of him, and everyone around them. it wouldnt be real, it would be sarcastic. but it would be so fucking annoying.

wilson is a pda person. i do think hes probably very repressed, so that part of him might be a bit hidden. i think he would be really annoyed by house's shenanigans because they embarrass him, but also because he wishes he had the confidence to actually be cheesy and open and affectionate like house pretends to be. He was always a pda person with his wives and partners. he wishes he could be like that with house but is honestly not ready for that yet, and he doesnt know if he ever will be. (it takes maybe a year. then hes fine with full on making out with him in the hallway lmao. he just needed time to adjust)

the first few days no one even knows. because they act exactly the same as they always do. house only starts with the stupid jokes once it's let slip somehow, either through a leaked email, an overhead conversation, or a suspicion from cuddy. he wasnt about to say anything on his own, but in order to make sure no one would DARE mistake him as CARING, he now has to make a joke out of it and be as annoying as possible. never let them see the real you.

those moments when wilson does get to see an unfiltered house, are the world to him. they always were, even before they were together. when house is genuine, its like seeing a rainbow. cherish it while you can. it wont last long, and its not something you can fully do justice to when describing it to someone else. those moments, to wilson, are the reason he keeps going. he's always had a positive outlook on life, but seeing someone like house able to smile, and show real compassion, gives him hope.

[killerbananas]

Princess

Three times Reiner helps his pregnant wife.

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 463 wc | afab!reader x Reiner

Warnings: smut; dialogue-only mode; time skips; breeding, pregnant reader, caring Reiner brainrot fluff, size kink, anal, hormonal nurturing

AN: Repost from my old account. Original AN: Wink at the ref if you catch it; it's used inconceivably well.

“Right here? How about this?”

“Yes! There. So fucking good. Your hands are huge, Rei. You used to be able to fit them around my stomach, but look what you did, honey. I’m a balloon!”

“Hey, you’re gorgeous. Watching you grow every morning when I open my eyes just gets my dick outta bed before me. My wife is a pregnant goddess and I wanna worship at the temple.”

“That’s how we got in this position! Hah! Okay-okay, I’m sorry. The hormones are hard, but my back has been killing me. Thank you so much for using those big strong hands on me. Could you, right here-?”

“As you wish.”

[...]

“Damnit.”

“What?”

“My head’s just killing me, man.”

“It’s been a really long day for both of us. Lay down with me and let’s snuggle up.”

“Twist my arm for it, Sir.”

“Keep it up and you’ll get more than what you bargained for, tiny temptress.”

“Alright-alright. Ooh, yes, this is my favorite position. You’re so warm and I just love burying my face in your chest.”

“Here, let me help.”

“Ugh if you stop, I might go into early labor. I feel the headache melting away with the magic Braun touch, you God, you.”

“What did I tell you?”

“Listen, I’m sure my ass has a cramp that you can use that hard-on to massage out too. I know those hips can grind hard enough to knock out both goals simultaneously. You’re a very capable man."

“Flatterer.”

“Sir.”

“That’s it.”

[...]

“Breathe with me, baby. You can do it. Nice and easy.”

“I’m trying. It’s just overwhelming.”

“I know. You’re doing so well for me though. Taking it like a champ. I’ve almost got the head in.”

“W-would you…”

“Would I what?”

“Could you tickle my skin until my muscles relax a little? I wanna be able to take you, but I can’t calm down.”

“Anything, angel. I won’t hurt you. See? It’s okay.”

“I love you so much. T-those deep strokes, baby. They’re driving me insane right now. I-I think I’m gonna cry, but it’s a good cry.”

“I understand. Your body is going through so much and I’m gonna make you feel better. Now roll with me. I’m gonna play with your pussy and give you those long strokes you like so much. You’re gonna be boneless and we’ll fuck the pain right out. Lay your back on my chest, right there. Perfect.”

“T-th-hank you. Promise you’ll come in my ass?”

“As you wish.”

“You beautifully romantic sap of a man. You’re gonna be a great dad, Rei.”

“Stop buttering me up, I can’t top the orgasm I’m about to give you and you’re gonna drive me crazy if you talk like that because I’ll wanna try.”

“As you wish.”

“Princess.”

Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alexpro-nwn @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @aviinnit @beffjurky @casuallyck @cherrxs @dearbaji @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @fujoneshi @holographicceo @hinasakuino @interfectio-mortales @kenryug @koulakoukoula2003 @kxkyuu-main @lavenderdaisyhoney   @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @chaotic-nick @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @arsonszn @pockcock @poursomesunaonme @scouts-stuff @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @downbadpie @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @theinariakuma @tonaken @torapologist @touyyes @we-are-so-close @witchycamisado

[exbex]

Hi! 🦐 if you can

The moon was shining brightly, it was silent save for the lapping of waves, and no one was trying to destroy the universe or take over the government. Sam wasn’t sure the night could get any better.

“Sammy,” Bucky had his Brooklyn accent on. If Sam turned his head he was going to be staring into those gorgeous blue eyes and see that flirty grin and that was going to lead to them making out, which would make the night better, but Sam wanted to draw it out, so he kept his eyes forward. “Hmm?”

Bucky slid his arm around Sam’s waist. The way he whispered in Sam’s ear would have made Sam shiver, if Sam didn’t know his partner so well and couldn’t predict all of his moves. “Did I ever tell you about my mermaid fantasy?”

“Let me guess-a mermaid who looks like Rita Hayworth seduces you into the ocean?”

Bucky paused in moving his hand to the button of Sam’s jeans. “Okay, yeah, but that was before I came to Delacroix. Now the mermaid is a hot brunet. A merman. With big brown eyes that lure me into the ocean.” Bucky placed a kiss behind Sam’s ear, then his jaw, before moving to his neck.

Sam allowed a shiver through as he tilted his head to allow easy access. “I’m not getting into the water.”

“No need,” Bucky murmured. “We can skip to the part after, the one where you…” he whispered low into Sam’s ear.

The thought of doing that on his parents’ boat was less than palatable, but then, his parents had probably done the same kind of thing and Sam swiftly banished that thought because life was short and his boyfriend was sexy.

**

The smell of salt air, the taste of it on his tongue, the sounds of the ocean, and Bucky’s cute ass all provided a feast for Sam’s senses. Still…”your pale ass is going to cause a glare and the Coast Guard is going to think we’re sending an SOS out.” Not the sexiest thing Sam had ever said, but that ass made him stupid, and banter was their love language, so sue him.

“I know you’ve got one of your million dollar smiles that can land airplanes on, so I’m pretty sure any signals are coming from you.” Bucky snarked, then moaned as Sam managed to hit the sweet spot, and for the next few minutes he actually stopped talking.

Really, the night couldn’t get any better.

**

“I can’t believe you brought lube.” There would be hell to pay tomorrow, either because Sarah would somehow know what they had gotten up to or because they were laying on the hard wooden deck and Sam’s body was going to remind him that he was too old for it, but right now he was wrecked in the best way and aches and pains were a problem for future Sam.

Bucky rolled on his side, the gold in his arm glinting in the moonlight. Sam had the idle thought that he would make a damn fine merman himself. “I can’t believe that it took us this long to have sex on the boat.”

“You’re nasty.” But Sam had to know. “How long have you wanted to?”

“Since the first time I saw you on this boat,” Bucky bit his bottom lip, looking shy all of a sudden. “Wasn’t fair; you looked in your element just like you do in the sky.”

Sam could’ve ribbed him for being a sap, but his boyfriend was sweet and it seemed like a much better idea to reach for him and kiss him like it was going out of style.

[skaruresonic]

"These guys really treat mental illness with all the tact and decorum of a bull in a fucking china shop."

That what it feels like to me as well when I read those comics, like Surge trauma dump only to this Sonic treat her as a "gimmick" and the treatment Whisper get especially in Urban Warfare got me baffled.

I mean, it's not that surprising considering Flynn treats amnesia like an internal switch that 180s your personality when even the games don't do that. Chip doesn't lose his Light Gaia abilities, nor does Shadow become the life of the party, but Eggman gets sapped on the head and suddenly he's building toys for kids. Sonic receives the same treatment and he's sipping tea, pinkie raised, with Blaze.

In that case, the worst that can be said about it is that they're treating the subject matter too flippantly. But sometimes when they try to be Deep(tm), they wind up mangling this stuff in such a hamfisted manner that it becomes offensive. Like, yes, we get it, we fans love drama, but not like this, man.

Why is Whisper forced to offer Tangle the bigger apology for being triggered by Tangle's insensitive remark?

Why is Sonic's response to people in pain to go "I'll beat your ass until you decide to shape up" and "OH SO YOU THINK WE SHOULD MURDER EVERYONE HUH ESPIO?" Why does he sound like a freaking abuse apologist when he insists to Kit that Surge is "hurting herself"?

Why is the piece entitled "intrusive thoughts" when Lanolin does not seem to be least bit perturbed by them? Intrusive thoughts are ego-dystonic, meaning they're the opposite of what you usually stand for. You might think, for instance, "kill your dog" if you really love your dog, because you would never do such a thing.

Brains are weird. They cook that shit up extra spicy just to prepare you for the worst-case scenario (not that anxiety and the like are so clean-cut and rational, ofc, but that's the most basic gist). If your intrusive thoughts don't distress you, then they're just... thoughts, with no more moral weight than any other thought you have.

That is to say, if Lanolin was in any way suffering ego dystonia from her thoughts of causing an accident to hurt Sonic, we would have seen some pushback, some internal struggle, but no. She shows zero signs of compunction. She acted on those thoughts. The text describes it as "intrusive thoughts" while the subtext suggests rationalization. And sending those implications can potentially be dangerous to impressionable readers.

This is a case where, although I don't think ABT meant harm, he probably also didn't realize how dangerous it can be to conflate someone who intends harm and rationalizes it with someone who would never act on their violent thoughts.

[shivunin]

Hullo! ✨

Random ass question because I was curious: In the Fade graveyard in Here Lies the Abyss, what would the tombstones of your characters say? What's their deepest fears? (for everyone, not just your Lavellans)

Ohhhh this is a fantastic and fantastically crunchy question!! Thinking about my answers got me through the whole second half of work today c:

Wen: The Cage

Maria: Last of her Name

Elowen: Uselessness

Emmaera: Forgotten

Salshira: Unlovable

Some extra detail under the cut:

Wen: The Cage-- The memory of those moments trapped in the backroom of the Arl's estate have never left her. She is not afraid of close spaces, but being confined sends Wen into (alternately) a fugue state or a howling rage. There is something about the helplessness, the loss of power and autonomy that she never really gets past. It is the reversal of all she values about herself: when told she was no better than an animal, Wen said "then let me be an animal, with teeth and claws that cut." Being caged saps all of those strengths from her

Maria: Last of her Name-- Not only Carver dying and leaving her alone, but being the one who failed the rest of her family and never having the children/family she's always wanted. There is a profound loneliness to the idea of being the only Hawke that haunts her.

Elowen: Uselessness--Elowen was raised to be useful, above all else. The fear of not being of use to others is what drives so many of her choices throughout Inquisition, including (in YFFM) her choice to stay behind in the Fade. At a very basic level, the idea of there being no point to her is her greatest dread.

Emmaera: Forgotten--Emma was raised by an amateur archaeologist. She spent most of her formative years brushing dirt away from ancient Elvhen ruins, revealing the knowledge of centuries and lives of thousands. She learned every tale a First should know, memorized every old story, and loved the idea of becoming a Keeper---not just a keeper of the clan, but a keeper of knowledge. She knows that a people is not just its material culture, but also its memories passed down through centuries and generations. The idea of not being a part of that--of being profoundly, truly forgotten---is one of her deepest and most hidden (and--it makes Cullen forgetting her so much more painful)

Salshira: Unlovable--Salshira already believes that she is unlovable. She compensates for this by setting boundaries around which kinds of affection she will accept and pursue. She has no interest in falling in love because she knows she will never believe in it. Instead, she allows physical affection, because being desired is something she has control over. Even under these circumstances, the core belief that there is nothing in her to love is something that she acts in opposition to. I think seeing this on a headstone is something she would laugh at, but it would keep her up at night.

[ottpopfic]

It's not the first time Nico has had to turn their ass back around the way they came because they fucked some underworld something in what di Angelo has dubbed their ‘Gay Chicken On Steroids Quest’. He's equally pissed at both Leo and Jason every time, so Leo tries to take some solace in that

Like, hooray Leo we‘re glad you're back, go back from whence you came we gotta go close the hole you crawled out of or whatever

---

The last death

-

Leo is alive, again, for like the sixth time 

Something something Jason went off to gather parts of all the plants people have been turned into to make a sacrifice? Dr. Frankenbonsi a Leo? He's not sure, all he knows is he got spat out of Thalia’s tree and it was both gross and hella painful. Not the worst resurrection so far, but definitely the one with the most tree sap

Also, Nico’s pissed again that they fucked around too much. Whatever Jason did with his spooky tree thing has apparently made a weak spot for underworld magic and now they have to go close it 

It's not the first time Nico has had to turn their ass back around the way they came because they fucked some underworld something in what di Angelo has dubbed their ‘Gay Chicken On Steroids Quest’. He's equally pissed at both Leo and Jason every time, so Leo tries to take some solace in that

Like, hooray Leo we‘re glad you're back, go back from whence you came we gotta go close the hole you crawled out of or whatever

The issue this time isn't how Leo came back, but the fucking cultist that have taken over the spot Jason did his Zuse wood magic thing

They end up in Newport State Park near the tippy-top point of Wisconsin’s peninsula, in a clearing in a grove of Oak and Linden trees. The place has to be hidden by the mist, Leo has checked the satellite imaging on Google Maps multiple times as they trek through the trees and underbrush to see nothing out of the ordinary, or even a landmark. There's some kind of temple off up a hill with way too many Canadian Geese guarding it, but that's not what they're after 

What they are after is the lowlands under the temple where the earth was carved away by an ancient flood. The trees never grew back there, leaving room for the milkweed, cardinal flowers, and forget-me-nots to flourish under the sun. It would be a lovely sight, if the flowers hadn't been trampled by the cultists

Fucking cultists, they're digging a hole

“What's with the hole?” Piper asks. The three of them are up in the brush at the top of the hill across from the temple, watching the robed dudes down below and desperately avoiding the geese. 

“Fuck if I know” Nico monotones

“Dude, you're the whole reason we're here,” Leo gapes “How do you not know what's up with the hole?”

“Just because I know that cultists are fucking around doesn't mean I know the method to their madness” Nico grouches 

“Oh no wait I think they're planting that guy,” Piper identifies “Or burying him alive? Whatever there's a dude going in the hole”

“Yeah, looks like it's time to step in,” Nico tosses the binoculars back at Leo to stash in his tool belt and draws his spooky-ass sword “Whatever you do don't bother the geese, I think they are only here for the temple”

“There is no way in hell I'm fucking with a goose,” Leo relents, tucking everything away “Have you ever been one on one with a goose, because I have”

“Oh yeah same,” Nico shudders “I got chased by like four of them when I was homeless in Central Park”

“Fucking vicious right!?” 

“Yeah, if I didn't know better I'd say they were hell spawn”

“Is there a plan?” Piper cuts in before they start down what she calls ‘sad homeless orphan lamentations’

“Keep the cult from burying anyone, don't die,” Nico tells them “I can close the weak point once we clear them out”

“Fantastic,” Piper says 

They end up splitting up slightly, being outnumbered puts a damper on charging in even if it looks mostly like mortals below. Nico poofs off one way whereas Leo and Piper sneak off the other, it works for about eight seconds before they are spotted in the wildflowers 

“You there!” cries one of the cultists pointing “Show yourself!“

“What is he a fucking Monty Python character” Piper grumps

“Hello!” Leo improvises, standing abruptly “Hello fellow cult members, I have come to uh, help you with the cult stuff” Leo can see Nico facepalm in a patch of swamp lupine on the other side of the hill

“Yep sure do love digging holes and putting people in them, uh” Leo is apparently now the distraction because Piper is lining up her blow dart as his hip and Nico is creeping in from the back “Sure am excited using a whole ass man as a seed, that's definitely gonna appease our god!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” cuts in one of the cult guys in the back, Piper blow darts him two seconds later

Things go fast from there. There are six above-ground cult members and one fancy one in the hole, Nico quickly takes out the one next to Mr. Blow Dart In The Neck. Leo pulls a handsaw and a ball peen hammer out of his belt, whipping the hammer at the closest robed figure and following a knife-wielding Piper into the fray 

It's the classic chaos of a close combat fight; dodge, duck, swipe at a weak spot, and don't hit your friends. They're holding their own pretty well for being outnumbered in a goose poop-filled muddy clearing. But it's when Leo turns to throw another hammer at the man starting to overpower Piper that he hears a new voice enter the equation

“Leo!”

And there he is, it's Jason. 

He's alive, walking talking breathing moving of his own accord. Or he would be, if the knife that was meant for Leo wasn't sticking out of his back

Leo hasn't seen him in three years . 

“Jason?”

They lock eyes for a second, blue to brown, and then Jason gives one hard bloody cough. Leo can see the tip of the knife just piercing through his shirt, the smallest hit of silver surrounded by spreading red

“ Jason !”

The Hole Cultist pulls his blade up first, making a sick crunching and ripping noise accompanied by Jason’s cut-off scream, before wrenching it back out and kicking the blond away. Jason falls hard, and he stays down, the robed man turning back to his original target of Leo with a sneer. There is a lot of blood, like the knife went through a major artery or organs or something, pooling around where Jason lays barely moving, it makes Leo see red

He tends not to be the one fighting in the front lines, especially not with his fire. Like Leo can defend himself and others if he needs to, but he much prefers to launch wrenches at people like Ratchet from Transformers or act as a support. Fire is too hard to control in close or crowded combat, and there is too high a risk of hurting someone friendly or catching the landscape ablaze

Leo doesn't really care about that right now, his body moves on its own

Charbroiled he thinks the term is, or at least extra crispy, because for once Leo is not holding back. That tight panicked control he's had to keep on his fire his whole life whips away from him in a flash of light and heat at the cultist, a Saturn's rings of flame surrounding him and then projected at the man. Either way, there's not much left of them when he's done, half the flesh seared off the bone and all

“Jason!” Leo screams as he turns back, scrambling away from the horror show he's made of the robed figure and sliding on his hands and knees next to the blond. He gathers Jason into his arms and onto his lap, not caring for the blood and viscera that are coating them both, Jason grabs him back with shaking hands the best he can “ Jason !”

“O-oh hey,” Jason says like he's not actively bleeding out “It's good to see you”

“Jason, what the fuck” Leo cries, vision blurring with the water in his eyes “Don't do this to me!”

“It’s okay,” Jason tries to soothe him through the blood in his mouth, gore-slick hands losing their grip on Leo’s jacket and looking straight into Leo’s eyes like a promise “I'll get you on-on the n-next round, just-just wait, for me” and then he's gone, the light leaving him In one last desperate rasping breath

“No no no nonono no! ” Leo begs through his tears, shaking him in his arms like it will make Jason’s spirit come back to his body “Jason come on please! ”

It's not fair, he's right here and it's not fair . They were so close, Leo can feel how close they were to making it

He's on fire, he knows he is but he doesn't have it in him to care. It's whipping around like a storm, like a tornado, pouring off of him harder and hotter than it's ever been, the heat making Jason's body slowly cremate in his arms. All Leo can do is burn and sob, hunched over what's left of the man he's so desperate for even as other things around them catch with him

It's not fair, they were so close and it's not fair

Leo is done. He's played by the rules and bent over backwards to appease the gods and this is what they get? They were never going to let Leo have him, it's always been just a show, just another stupid myth to add to the collection. Here's a parable on what wanting what you can't have will do to you, it is storm or fire after all

Leo is over it, he's going to write his own story

He can hear Piper’s panicked voice somewhere off somewhere, but he can't find it in him to care for once. If he's going to die this time for this at least she won't be there like all the other deaths. Maybe she can be spared for once

It's hot, his fire, so hot for once it's blue. Jason’s body might be dust slipping through his hands but Leo knows without needing to look it's the same color as his eyes

So he hulls himself up. He's still burning, the ash that is Jason combining with the ash and stone that is the landscape and changing. Magma, lava, stone and glass. 

Obsidian 

Leo walks 

And the ground melts away

He walks the whole way down like that, all the way to the underworld. Nothing stops him, not the earth or spirits or monsters, nothing even tries. He creates his own tunnel like that, burning his entrance to the upside down, an Obsidian Field

He may not be falling into the planet, but it sure is close

Leo doesn't waste time when he gets to the upside down, beelining it to the queue of souls waiting to be judged, honed in on the blond like he's being reeled in by the heartstrings. He's terrified, he's breaking so many rules, but he can't care about that right now. He won't care about it. If they want to strike him down for this Leo can just step in behind Jason, he's not above cutting in line.

It doesn't take Leo long to find him, in the long procession of semi-transparent dead people Jason is surprisingly opaque. He has a hand in his grody ripped jeans pockets and staring at an outcropping of stalagmites like a crappy waiting room TV. The microsecond Leo is close enough he grabs him out of line by the hand, Jason looks surprised to see him so soon

“We are leaving ” Leo demands through his teeth

“Okay,” Jason says, and then Leo drags him back the way he came

He doesn't let go of Jason's hand the whole way up, but he doesn't look at him either, just in case.

When they get upstairs the land around them is one big sheet of black glass with the hole to the new underworld entrance smack dab in the middle. there's a spot in front of them, where the new stone is discolored and rippled like water. Where Jason died, where Leo caught fire. It’s kinda pretty in a way, glittering and reflective, but nothing looks better than turning around and Jason still being there

“Hi,” Jason says, a huge grin on his face

“Hey,” Leo breathes back, still terrified their both about to be whisked away back under

“I missed you,” Jason tells him, squeezing his hand

“ Dude ” Leo is trembling, is this really happening?

“Just, come here ”

Jason pulls him into an embrace by their joined hands, and Leo melts into it holding him back like a lifeline. 

It's probably the best hug in existence Leo thinks, even though it's one-armed and they are both hella gross. But it's Jason , and he's here. He's here and he's sticking his stupid handsome face in Leo’s hair and pulling him in so tight it makes his ribs hurt. Leo thought he had run out of tears somewhere between the Metamorphic Rocks and the Mantle, but apparently not. He's sobbing into Jason’s nasty ass shirt, and Jason lets go of his hand just to hold him tighter

“Holy shit!” Leo hears Piper shreek in the distance “Holy shit he did it! ”

There's more screaming, the sound of friends and family inbound across the still-steaming ground, but right now it's just Leo and Jason standing in the cooling obsidian 

Leo looks up at him, just to make sure it's true and Jason is here for realzies this time. He's met with blue eyes, blue like the sky above them clear of clouds, blue like the heart of the hottest flames, blue like home

“Let's go home,” Leo tells him

“Okay,” Jason replies, seconds before Piper body slams them both to the ground “Let's go home”

---

@queenjunothegreat

[derangedanomaly]

as promised, SOMETHING with ace (filtered for fluffiness). i’m not ultra confident in my dialogue for ace but yknow. i tried! idk it this counts as angsty enough but it’s still kind of comfort, hope this works as a nice gift! - yugioh anon

CW: self hatred, reassurance, ace style cheering you up, implications depression (lack of eating, empty feelings, poor hygiene), nightmare being an ass.

Several days have passed since you’ve ventured out of your room. Likely more have passed since you’ve had a proper wash. If you touch your hair, it feels tangled up to no end. Not that it matters to you. You’ve shut yourself off, made yourself quiet, so you don’t have to experience the ridicule that would surely follow your self-destructive behavior. That empty feeling stirred in your gut weeks ago and gradually sapped any energy you had away, like that of a mosquito sucking blood. No sound has come from you since you’ve laid in your bed aside from the occasional rustling of bedsheets when you roll. Your stomach growls. Ah, you’ve not eaten for a few days. Opening your eyes and looking around makes you dizzy, sick to whatever is left in your stomach. Being awake enough to feel the gunk that has coated your teeth only makes it worse. You wipe the crust from your series of naps, finally deciding to move. Minor crack sounds occur once you stretch your body a bit. Do you really want to get up to deal with all of this mess? Not even referring to your wreck of a room. No. You didn’t.

As you go to lay back down, a singular knock sounds from the door. After a few good seconds, another. And another.

“Hello? Are you in there? Nightmare needs to speak with you.”

Ugh. You audibly groan in response, gaining an understanding chuckle in return. Neither of you liked dealing with him.

“I know, mutual feeling. You do have to though. I’m not getting yelled at because I didn’t ‘try hard enough’ to get you to come down.”

“… I’ll take too long. He’ll get mad just looking at me.”

He pauses, likely confused by what you mean. He hesitates before asking but eventually requests, “May I come in?”

A few moments pass. Do you want him to see you like this? No, that’s utterly embarrassing. But it’d hurt even more to have Nightmare scold him when he’s done nothing wrong. You let out an acknowledging hum in response. The door creaks open. The shocked gasp or disgusted yelp isn’t what you get. Ace is silent as he takes in you and your surroundings. He doesn’t seem irritated with you, though. Ace seems like he’s sympathizing.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Hm..?”

“Go get in the bath or shower, whichever feels more comfortable, and wash up. I’ll take care of the rest.” He requests, picking up dirty clothing and setting them in a basket before you have any say. Guilt makes up your entire being at this point. He seems to notice, shaking his head. “Look, I get it. I.. I’ve experienced this before. It’s not a good feeling. You don’t owe me and I’m not angry. We can talk about it more once you’re done.”

Shakily, you nod. You don’t want to end up crying in front of him. As you head to your bathroom, you hear him picking up several spare cups. Only a short while passes as you wash up with body wash and shampoo. The warm water and soap coating your skin is beyond an incredible sensation. Once you get out, you brush your teeth. Pain aches in your mouth for a bit as you brush a bit too hard attempting to get more yellow off, but you end up stopping after three or four minutes. You take a towel and wrap it around you as you step out. Ace seems to have left your room for the time being, but it’s far cleaner than before. Messy clothes lay in the basket and your desk is cleaned.

You choose some comfortable sweatpants and a star-themed sweater. A few minutes pass and Ace knocks again.

“You alright in there? Nightmare seems to be in a good mood right now. He’s cooking with Chaos, so I brought you up some food. Is it alright if I come in?” He asks, a soft cadence to his voice. Comforting doesn’t begin to describe it.

“I’d like that. Thank you, Ace.”

He walks in with a plate of bacon, an omelette with veggies, a banana on the side, and a cup of juice. Chaos seems to be experimenting with breakfast foods. The smell makes your stomach ache. He sets it on the desk and grabs the remote for the television. Standing beside your bed, he turns on what he knows to be your comfort show. The lights are mesmerizing as you sit down with your food. You turn to him, a weak smile on your face.

“We can sit here and watch together. I’m positive Nightmare won’t notice if he’s sat there with Chaos. We can talk about what you’ve been feeling or we can just focus on the show. I’m here for you, okay?”

YAYAYAYAYA! THIS IS AWESOME! You've captured filtered Ace perfectly!

Yet another masterpiece! ^^

[lovecore-fics]

The Frenemy

C!sapnap x AFAB!reader

smut

warnings: pet names, degrading, breeding

a/n: this doesn’t go with lore characters but had the nations/kingdoms in it! (mentions of las Nevadas) 

You and dream had been “enemies” ONLY because dream is a sore loser.

For context: you and dream were gambling at las nevadas after hours because quackity let you guys occasionally. Dream ran out of diamonds so instead of diamonds he offered his sword. Nightmare. Obviously like every other round won and took his sword home. 

Ever since then he wouldn't let sapnap or george talk to you and he himself wouldn't talk to you.

Which is why you're sitting here looking at the text from sapnap.

Sapnap: y/n please come over. I need a favor

Why was this man texting YOU behind his bestfriends back for one little favor- 

You were thinking of so many things he would ask you to do for him you zoned out.

Apparently you're not allowed to think for a moment because a couple seconds later you got another notification.

Sapnap: y/n hurry tf up- its important!

While you were walking to the best friend's shared house you started wondering if it was a trap.

your mind was racing with the possibilities of what's gonna happen when you arrive, some possibilities were even dirty…

When you got to the house you noticed only sapnaps horse was there which made you less terrified.

You walked in the house since it was just sapnap but when you looked up nobody was there.

“Sapnap?” you called out. 

The minute you yelled his name you heard a thud come from his room. 

Sapnap suddenly appeared in front of you; he seemed to be in some sort of pain.

“y/n i really trust you please promise me you wont judge what i'm about to say.” the texan said it surprised you that he let his guard down for a favor- he's usually “tough” and “masculine” but he's here right now asking, no. begging you not to judge him for a favor. 

“I won't sapnap what was so urgent?” you said hoping it was important enough to interrupt your time off from being security at quackity’s casino. 

 “I can't…undo something” he said looking down which made you look down but you didn't make it to the floor, you found something more interesting in sapnaps shorts.

“Sapnap-” you didn't mean to come off as scared but the look on sapnaps face made you realize that you looked scared- 

Sapnap looked like he had just seen a ghost. He looked more scared than i could possibly look-

“Im sorry” he kept repeating after the 3rd one i cut him off.

“It's ok sap- Calm down-” you said, getting closer to the man freaking out in front of you. 

He looked at you, also taking a step closer, looking down at you. you guys were now close enough you could feel his breath against your cheeks. 

“y/n can i-” he was cut off by you pressing your lips against his.

He put his hands on your hips pulling you closer to the point you could feel his boner through his pants and your skirt. 

“You look like such a whore” he said after pulling away from the kiss

“Says the one who texted me bc he didnt wanna jerk himself off” you said rolling your eyes and looking up at the taller man. 

The man caught you by surprise when he went after your neck. You could feel the heat from the blaze hybrids lips. 

Getting lost in the feeling of his lips on your neck made you let out a moan immediately covering your mouth right after. 

“No sweetheart i wanna hear you scream my name” he said dragging you over to the kitchen and bending you over the counter pulling up your skirt.

You heard the hybrid's pants drop to the floor and you arched your back to tease the man behind  you.

Your lighthearted teasing was interrupted when you felt a sting on your ass. He just SPANKED you. You didn't mind tho it felt good. Too good, you accidentally let out another moan. 

“Yeah i bet you like that you fucking slut.” his dick entered your pussy without any prep or warning. 

“Fuck! Sapnap-” you moaned and continued making lewd sounds while the male fucked you. 

“That's right scream my name baby” his thrusts got faster and deeper making more lewd sounds come out of you. 

“f-f-f-!” you couldn't ask him to go faster you could only moan, you were unable to talk. 

“Words darling” he slowed down his pace letting you speak.

“Faster please sir.” you finally were able to say.

“Anything for my pretty little slut” the man sped up his pace again going faster than before. 

You were lost in pleasure until you felt the male pull your hair making your back hit his chest. 

“Open your mouth darling” he looked into your eyes with nothing but lust. 

You did as you were told in fear of being denied an orgasm later on. So you opened your mouth and he spit in your mouth. 

“Swallow.” he told you and you did so smiling after. 

“breed me please” you mumbled not meaning to. 

“What was that sweetheart?” he cooed knowing exactly what you said. 

“Breed me!” you screamed out, the entire smp could probably hear. 

Sapnap went feral after those 2 words left your mouth. 

He fucked you faster and deeper than you could’ve imagined then you felt it. A knot in yout stomach ready to come undone. 

“C-cum” you moaned, closing your eyes. 

“Do it princess” he whispered in your ear

You came undone on his cock babbling random things even you didn't understand.

Quickly after sapnap came inside of you with one last thrust he pulled out. 

All of you and sapnaps thoughts were interrupted when the front door opened and there dream stood. 

[necer0s]

More personal shit under the cut

I’m so fucking pissed right now. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect that at least part of my vacation should be spent relaxing, right? At minimum, one full day should have been free. But because my family has delusions of living out some city-person-ass farmer fantasy, instead I spend the entire week driving up the country for eight hours, boiling down maple sap into syrup, fixing up a shitty chicken coop, hauling heavy shit around, tossing cover crop into muddy fields during pouring rain, doing dishes that no one else can seem to be assed to do, and then drive eight more hours back home just in time to go back to my actual job. And on top of all that, I’m supposed to pretend like I’m excited for the most shitty half-assed birthday party imaginable where I get handed book 3 of a series that I’ve never heard of in my life. I am literally going to burn that book. No joke, I am going to put it with all the brush in my backyard that I could have been getting rid of if I didn’t have to put up with my family’s bullshit, And I am going to burn it. I have never burned a book before in my life and normally I would find the concept appalling, but right now it sounds like the only reasonable form of catharsis available to me. Because I can’t scream at them, I can’t shout at them, because then I’m the one who’s overreacting! I’m already the one who “didn’t get my nap today” and obviously that’s the only reason why I’m so cranky, it’s not at all because I’m in actual physical pain from lugging around too-heavy bags of seed or because the one thing I actually wanted to do with my family (play a single fucking game of Illimat) never happened. No. Obviously I’m cranky because I didn’t get my nap. As though I didn’t try, because I know better than any of these assholes just how screwed over I’m going to be when I have to adjust back from days to the night shift. As if I’m not the one who was told the wrong days to take off so that I spent ten days working in a row for no reason, and now I’m getting screwed on the other end as well. It’s infuriating. And all of it, all of it, has to stay inside or only come out in tiny little joking complaints. Because anything else would be too much and would become a whole thing where everyone else gets to tell me that they’ve had it worse, actually, and really they worked much harder than I did, and blah blah blah blah blah. As if I weren’t the only one who doesn’t actually give a shit about this nonsense farm vacation house. I’d be perfectly content taking my every vacation from here till forever as a staycation, but no. The family wants to raise and slaughter chickens, and make their own maple syrup, and have a tiny orchard of fruit trees, even if all of those cost more in supplies alone— not even the time and labor— than would be spent on just buying those products at a grocery store. And so here I am. Lying in bed, waiting to go home so I can go back to work with barely a day of rest, stewing and venting on the internet because nowhere else is available. Fuck. Fuck this, fuck them, fuck it all.