#its a good fucken answer to give

[credulouscanidae]

during my first visit to england when me and my partner were both pre t, we tried to go to a public toilet that had a pay gate of like 40p or something. i, being a fresh aussie tourist, fumbled with my change trying to work out what the coins were, and i got stuck at the gate and looked obviously flustered.

this older man was leaving the toilets at that same moment, so he pushed the exit button for us and prompted us to run through the now open gate.

we thanked him for his help, to which he replied in his heavy northern accent, "no worries. by the way, what are you both doing in here? this is the men's room"

my baby trans arse had no idea how to respond, but my partner, in such a dead pan tone, promptly replied with "we ARE the men"

and the guy just shrugged and said "oh alright" and walked away

i still think back to this fondly and while i havent been in a situation like that since, it's absolutely a response i'm going to use if questioned again lmao

[coldresolve]

hi, anon who asked about your writing process here 👋

i have returned from the trenches (university tests) to ask some specific(ish) questions.

1. how do you choreograph fights? they're quite easy to follow along, exciting/unique, and still maintain a sense of realism, all of which i tend to struggle with.

2. how do you write renee's internal monologue, especially when it comes to his little panicked moments and varying pacing?

3. how do you build and release tension so effectively in the story itself? obsessed with the "Renee stops running" part

4. how do you switch perspectives fluidly?

ik it's a lot of questions, but this is the condensed version so i count it as a win (?)

my favourite way to procrastinate recently has been annotating mm and i just. need to understand how your writing brain works a little. thanks :)

obligatory 'writing is subjective so take what you find useful and discard the stuff doesnt apply to you' and 'im not an expert in anything, this is just the shit i try to keep in mind' and 'i may sound disjointed as hell cause its 4am 5am and i cant sleep' etc

under a cut for mercy reasons

writing fight scenes

things you need to set up for your readers: character drives and aim with the fight itself, the stakes of losing, and how it all ties in with your wider story

things for you to keep in mind: how much fighting experience your character have, how your character's state of mind affects their behavior, their relationship to violence and/or how far they're willing to go

subverting expectations will keep people on their toes. this can be as simple as changing the stakes of the fight midway through, or having a character do something that isn't typical for them (which you should set up before so it doesnt feel too out of place)

make each (or most) impact/s mean something. getting kicked in the side of the mid-thigh will make a character limp for a bit; a hard enough hit to the liver will make anyone crumple; etc. dont make your characters, no matter how badass theyre supposed to be, immune to this, since that would erase the stakes entirely

fights are usually chaotic and short-lived. depends on what genre you're writing, though

give your characters (short) moments to react to what their opponent is doing/trying to do. dialogue is cool, but keep it sparse. people generally don't prioritize clever quips when theyre beating the shit out of each other. sometimes a simple "motherfucker" is enough

im bad at this one but characters using their environment during fights is fucken nice and helps with immersion

fights are more or less just a string of reaction-action over and over, and it can get sort of repetitive going back and forth to describe every punch, since it removes your reader's ability to imagine or read between the lines. meanwhile, if you never go deeper than 'they exchanged blows', you lose all sense of atmosphere - it's not supposed to feel like a detached news report, you want your readers to be there. so writing fight scenes is basically a balancing act in detail - how much to show, how much to suggest. whats the right answer? there is none, sorry. no two authors will have the same approach, but both can pump out riveting shit with wildly different approaches. its something you learn over time. im personally in the lots-of-detail camp

people will tell you that sentence length matters, but thats bullshit imo, it's just about using flow effectively. a good example of what i mean: short sentences make the pace seem quicker, but run-on sentences in particular have this neat thing where they can make your readers almost out of breath by the end of it, which is also pretty useful when you're writing something high-tension.

there's tons more shit than this but my brain is a puddle of goo, so

renee's internal monologue

ayyy! internal monologue is your opportunity to shovel around the grey matter of your characters, its the Good Stuff imo. in the case of mm, the plot is largely driven by character development, so its been hella important to me to express why each character (except davin) does what they do, what thought process lead them to change their minds, and in renee's case - the flaws in his reasoning, the lies he tells himself, and how he reacts when those things no longer help him cope with what he's done

pacing is sth im insanely mindful of but unable to effectively put into words lmfao. if you mean renee's entire internal arc, it follows the narrative tension in the story; renee is the protagonist, he's the one driving the plot forward. as for pacing out any internal monologue itself, i try to have it follow somewhat of a 3 beat structure with setup/elaboration/conclusion (most of what i write happens in 3s), but some monologues have veered off if i felt like it was called for (it's a vibes thing). flow is important: one thought has to lead to the next, and it has to reach a "logical" conclusion (whatever the character decides is logical at that point of their arc). it has to be relevant to the plot obv, and the atmosphere also has to compliment the scene/chapter it exists in. otherwise, yeah, like. theres not much of a difference between pacing a normal scene and pacing an internal monologue

building and releasing tension

idk if you saw it but i made a whole post squeezing mm into a model for narrative tension here

so ok, listen. this is all wishy washy and means nothing, except it means everything. its the entire structure of your story which is pretty important, but like also its just a vibe thing. the reason you've heard about setup/payoff in writing advice circles is because of the build and release of tension. it's a pacing thing. if you set something up without having a payoff down the line, unless you're writing a mystery and your setup is a red herring, your readers are gonna come away disappointed. it's about what rhythm you've established and how an average person might expect it to continue. we're making music here. if you payoff something (payoff is a verb now) without having set it up previously, you've essentially just smashed all the piano keys in the middle of claire de lune with no warning. and you can do that, but you have to know that that's what you're doing, otherwise its gonna sound like you smashed all the keys solely to keep your audience on edge, even though it adds nothing to the song itself. this is all pacing. everything is pacing, including tension

building and releasing tension is about making music. you typically start out low and then you gradually turn it up. and you might have a moment where it gets a little low again but now the audience knows its been up there before so there's more intrigue, you've set an expectation. and then you build it and you take it a little further than the last time. you add harmonics maybe, if harmonics are your thing. you keep teasing the climax. that sounds like sex and to be fair music is kinda like sex. so is narrative tension. you add a funky little kazoo in there an the crowd definitely did not expect that, but if you've got a vision, you might just pull it off. it's about atmosphere. you're not just setting up for the grand finale, you're setting up a hundred tiny peaks along the way, meeting each as you go. it's like you're walking toward the harvest while hauling the plow behind you. (that made no sense. kinda like sex.*) (*= i'm ace). and then eventually, bam, cymbals and headbanging and shit. if you've done your due diligence in the gradual buildup, that release feels earned

switching perspective

i may be stupid and/or just kinda tired but i dont understand this question rn lmfao. ig i just treat it like i would going from any one scene to another

in conclusion

thank u for the questions. apologies for making it weird. in my defense, it is very difficult to explain pacing, and also its 5am now

[juurensha]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "juurensha "?

Thanks if you want to answer....

Ooooo such a fun question.

Top 10 fics ever:

Something Borrowed by rageprufrock - the best IwaOi fic, I love it so much, the characterizations are just stellar here (is it ABO, yes, but shush, I love it)

家教 - or - Domestic Education by rageprufrock - the best Guardian fic I've ever read, and I love the Shanghai-ness of it all!

as to which may be the true by susiecarter - identity porn at its best (I was going to pick tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter originally, because fake dating, but I've reread this one more, so I think it has to count as my favorite SuperBat fic)

Excessively Clever by astolat and Champion by astolat - I know nothing about Transformers, but astolat's fic made me absolutely adore these robots

The vates series by Lightning on the Wave (starts here ) - just because it takes the HP series world and completely blows it up and adds so much cool lore of its own. Yes, yes, all the characters are basically OC's at this point, and the Drarry gets a bit too much come Year 4, but my god, that lore.

a simple thing by iridan - lovely Mandalorian fic that gives both Din and Boba peace (and ignores the later seasons, thank god)

ships that pass in the night by beethechange - okay, okay, I know it's RPF, and let me caveat by saying, I think the real Ryan and Shane are just good friends, but I really enjoyed the hilariousness of this fic and the innate wistfulness and yearning to it as well.

it's about time that you just unwind by fuckener - idk, I just love two middle-aged snarky guys figuring out their sexualities and working out their trauma together, despite the fact that I have watched It entirely through gifsets

Lithograph by romantic_drift - the Nirvana in Fire fixit fic we all DESERVE

And now I'm going to cheat and stick a few extra under the readmore

Play It Again by metisket - all I have ever wanted is for all the Hales to be alive, so I deeply enjoyed this Sterek AU

Fealty by astolat - Person of Interest was pretty formative for me, and I love nothing more than devotion

Out of This Place by Sineala - sort of fake dating, and I do love Eagle of the Ninth so much, despite it being kind of a terrible movie

Dooku Captured, Pt 2 by DarthNickels - the Stars Wars AU we all deserved

#bakudeku by rageprufrock - it's not a BakuDeku story, its a TodoDeku story, and I love it because it's hilarious

An Unexpected Gift by Miko - an oldie but a goodie, I am still so fond of the Silver Pair from Prince of Tennis

And as for my username juurensha, this all stems from juu's weeb phase (that she never grew out of exactly, so it's actually quite fitting!) Tiny 13/14 year old juu was quite into Bleach and Naruto and was of course coming up with OC's, and specifically for Naruto, wanted to come up with a girl from a weapon's family. Googling random Japanese terms online yielded

銃連射/じゅうれんしゃ

meaning rapid weapons fire/or hail of bullets.

13/14 year old weeb juu: close enough!

So, that was my Naruto and Bleach OC's last name. Yes, and then I proceeded to use this super cringe name as my Ao3 username because I assumed that no one else would have used it yet, and here I am!

...I still really like it :DDDD

[ghostismybbygorl]

Neighbor troubles

Soap x ghost (in gaz' perspective)

Nsfw: mentions of sex

This is based off of this tiktok

Pic: @pandemicdragon on tiktok

Enjoy >:3

Gaz sat up in bed nestled in his plaid robes with his pink flamigo blanket tucked around him. He was reading soaps book about art having a couple of the pages marked for him to study later. He was finishing up a paragraph where he hear a set of light footsteps walking down the hall and the sound of his neighbors door open

"Youre late" a low whisper emitted

"Yeah i know i know got caught up lookin for my book. Havent a clue where it went"

Gaz's ears perked up when he heard the thick Scottish accent.

Soap....in ghosts?..... in ghosts room?..... this late?

Gaz shook his head head looked at the clock

"Oh wow 2 am" he thought "its actually pretty late" he looked at the page he was on.

"Maybe ill just finish this chapter....."

"OH FUCK!" A loud whisper interrupted his thiughts

Gaz's eye looked up from the works analyzing his surroundings

Did soap stub his toe or something?

Another sound emitted from the room

"Mmm fuck! yes! yes! yes!"

They must be playing smash or something right? Gaz quietly panicked trying to deny the fact that something is happening and returning back to his book.

The he heard the light

Creak...creak....creak...creak

Gaz ket oht a awkward chuckle

Maybe theyre changing seats

"Ohh yeaahhh~" soap moaned

"NOPE" gaz said slamming the book shut and civering his ears

NOPE HIS COMRADES ARENT FUCKING

creak..creak..CREAK...CREAK..BANG!

Maybe they're just wresting? Yeah! Theyre wrestling!

BANG.BANG.BANG

"GOD DONFT FUCKEN STOP OHH FUCK YES YES YES YES!" Soap moaned

gazs eye where wide with shock his ears defiled by the lewd sounds emitting from his neighbors room

He panicked theowing his blanket off of him and running out the door and slamming it shut. He briskly rushed down tge hallway where he still heard the distance sounds of soap getting his back blown out by his lieutenant.

He ran as far as he could go ending up at prices office at the other side of the building. He quickly rushed in closing the door huffing for air

Price jumped out if his seat his the papers he was looking at now littered on the ground

hia cigar that hung from his lips was now on-top of the desk gently letting a small hiss of what was burning below it. Price hurriedly wiped the ashes off the desk placing his cigar on the ash tray next to him

"Fucking hell kyle! What's got you in such a fuckin' tizzy?!"

Gaz froze the words from his lips couldn't form a sentence

"Answer me Sargent! Did you need anything or are you here to give me a good scare?!"

Kyle blinked a couple times before succumbing ti his surroundings

"N-nothing sir....just had a night terror...needed a place to... uh.... calm down?"

Price gave him a series of expressions ranging from concern, confusion and then acceptance

"Right.." price said stacking his papers and setting them on the desk

"Care to talk about i-"

"NO!" Gaz replied harshly "uh i mean no sir i dont want to talk about it"

Price noded his head grabbing his cigar and taking a drag

"Well then" he tapped his cigar on the ash tray the picking it up and walking towards kyle

"You can stay here, ive got a blanket on the loveseat you can use or if you need company i have a sleeping pad in my room you can rest on. Choice is yours" price patted his shoulder walking out of the room taking a puff from his cigar. "Night kid

Gaz sat down on the loveseat wrapping the blanket around his shoulders eventually drifting away to sleep

"Gaz" a hushed whisper emitted

Gaz opened his eyes to see ghost standing there with a box. Gaz immediately shot up rubbing the sleep out if his eyes

"Lieutenant! what uh what are you doing here?"

"Went to drop off some papers for price and saw you sleepin ere" ghost replied handing him the box

"Sorry for uh last night....."

Kyle gingerly grabbed the box which was a nice pair of noise cancelling headphones

"Oh!" Kyle replied "uh...thanks" rubbing his meck

"Yeah..no....no problem... if this uh happens just bang on the wall..."

"Got it...."

There was a awkward silence between the two. Gaz got up from the love seat

"Well im gonna go to my room and uh....get ready for the day"

Ghost nodded as gaz skedaddled to his room to get ready for the day.

Later that night the same thing happened

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump

"FUCK!"

Thump.thump.thump.thump

"MMM DONT FUCKING STOP"

"Jesus fuck!" Gaz yelled how the fuck are they at it again wasn't one night enough? He banged on the wall earning a knock back. Gaz face was in pure confusion did they just knock back??? Gaz heard a snicker behind the wall before the Thump thump thump started back again

Gaz groaned grabbing his headphones and playing some white noise to wash away the lewd sounds that echoed from the lieutenants room. He huffed scrolling through his phone when he got a text from alex

Hey! Ill be around for a short mission tomorrow wanna hang out after? Maybe play some chess? ♟️😉

Gaz smirked

Time for payback 😈



[twentydaysofdrabbles]

The Concierge’s Day Off - Pre-Dinner Drinks (Part 30)

Dead eyes take in the whole of Sans. A powerful build of ivory bones, clad in gold jewelry and a three piece suit in black and red and black cappola hat all. His crimson pilot lights for eyes dart between yours, at the high collar of your turtleneck shirt that hides your inked skin.

You turn your face to look forward, rather than look at Sans, your drink cradled in one gloved hand and pressed idly to your chin in contemplation. Fingers tracing through droplets of condensation. “I take it that you don’t mean Mister Ignis.”

“i know ya know who came after me ‘n tori,” Sans mutters, his breath fanning across your face. He is close enough that you can feel his grin on your cheek, the scent of cherry and whiskey and the faint remnants of mustard filling your nose. 

You don’t dispute it. But you don’t say anything either.

Sans only grins wider, taking the privacy of the booth to lean further towards you. His arm is only barely on the edge of the top of the booth seat, its weight gentle over your shoulders - barely any weight at all, actually. You don’t move, and he takes that as encouragement to lean closer still, his teeth brushing your jaw. 

“give me a name and i’ll give ya a show, sweetheart.”

Your glass is set back down on the table to leave your hands free. You look up at him with an even stare, lashes barely fluttering. Waiting with the same stare as you did when he had first come sauntering into the Hotel, when he tried to book a room without paying.

Sans understands immediately and groans, dropping his arm around your shoulders proper now. Tugging you closer to him, or rather, he tugs himself closer to you. You allow it, only because the bar is dead, Grillby is in the back room again, and there are no reflective surfaces that allow anyone to see in from the outside. You allow it, because it is Sans.

“oh c’mon, not even fer me?” he purrs, nuzzling at your cheek in the privacy of the booth. “i’ll make it worth your while.” The suggestive nature of his tone indicates that it’s the sort of payment that should ideally occur behind closed and locked doors.

You have to stop yourself from smiling. You succeed for the most part, save for the tiny twitch of your cheek. “That’s not the price I seek.” The golden coin - the very currency he must get used to spending, if he hasn’t already.

Sans grimaces at your even tone. Mutters under his breath about professionalism and cracking. Finally, he groans and leans away from you, though he keeps his arm around your shoulders. “fucken’ fine.” A single gold coin flicks out and dances over the bones of his free hand, tripping over the ivory bars before he pinches it and offers it to you. “what’s the name, sweets? And who’s the one that got away?”

You look up at him through your lashes without taking the offered coin. Oh? Then again, you didn’t think he would be satisfied by killing just one of his three assailants - you did take one for yourself, after all.

“I killed one, ya killed one. Where’s the lady ya cornered?” Sans purrs into your cheek, nuzzling it in a skeleton kiss. You still don’t move.

Ah, the Lieutenant. 

You think about the days that have passed since you found Sans in that ransacked pool room. About the people you have seen come and gone. And answer honestly. “I have not seen her in a while.”

Sans isn’t fooled. He’s just as good at reading between the lines as you are, just as good at reading your silence as he would anyone’s expression. “She dead?” It sounds like a rhetorical question.

But to answer...not quite. “She may as well be.”

Being excommunicated is a death sentence for a lone assassin. Makes it easier to hunt them down. Makes it harder to survive without a safe haven, without the services of the black market.

Sans grumbles. Thinks. And rephrases his questions; after all, you still haven’t taken his coin. “alright, who put the bounty on tori and who attacked me?”

Two questions. You eye the coin in his hand, weighing its worth. 

Whatever Sans is to you is put aside for the moment. Sans in his capacity as enforcer and lieutenant for his Family is a man of high rank, who had connections, was powerful, charming. A man who could survive an attack while unarmed...or as unarmed as a monster could be. 

If he were any foot soldier or a mere assassin, you would place the value of your information at two coins. But he is who he is, notwithstanding being a friendly individual to the Continental, and so you accept the single coin in exchange for your information. 

Reaching out with a gloved hand that is ever so slightly damp from your glass, you pluck the coin from his phalanxes. Offer. Consideration. Acceptance.

“The Carta, not to be conflated with the Cartel. The Cartel serve the Carta. One of the High Families,” you answer the first question. As to the second, you reach out to trail gloved fingers over the round of his jaw, tilting his head to your liking. “The Lieutenant, such as she was, is--” You whisper her name into his ear...or where his ear would be. “...now excommunicado.”

Sans cannot hide the shiver that rattles his bones as you touch him, as your lips come so close as to be a hair away from his skull. Like butterfly wings brushing over his bones. His breath flutters over your gloved hands as he tips his face down, as he presses his teeth to your palm. Incidentally almost pressing on the mechanism that would release your hidden blade. 

You move your hand carefully. Not rebuffing him, but rearranging your palm so you are cupping his chin gently. Away from the hidden mechanism, but still touching him. 

By his satisfied rumbling, Sans is very much content with your decision to keep touching him. He nuzzles your fingers. Teasingly flicks out his tongue to taste the tip of one gloved finger. Leaves a bit of diluted red magic behind. 

“excommunicated,” he murmurs into your fingers, as though in thought. “cut off’a all the services of the hotel. why ain’t she dead?” His crimson lights are fuzzier than normal. 

To be perfectly honest, the Manager has not shared her reasons for leaving the Lieutenant alive. You can surmise the reason, having worked for her for so long. The man you killed was the one who killed the poor bellboy. The man Sans killed was the one who attacked him. The Lieutenant, by her current status of being alive, was only along for the ride. 

But even Sans is not privy to the mind of the Manager. Far be it for it to be you who enlightens him. So you simply look at him evenly, then tilt your head. 

The monster seems unbothered by your silence, grinning into your fingers. “fine, keep yer manager’s confidence. i’ll be able ta figure ‘t out anyway.” 

If he hasn’t already. 

You let the corner of your lips tip upwards in a repressed smile and huff lowly, letting your hand fall to the table. Except it doesn’t fall very far. 

Sans’ hand flies up and cradles your gloved hand in his. White on ivory. White and gold against black and red. The skeleton monster purrs quietly in his chest as he looks at you, that sinister grin taking on a softer edge. His hands gently massage yours, taking care to avoid the hidden mechanism under the heel of your palm. 

Ah, you should have known he would notice that. 

For a while, all you just look at him in silence. Bouncing your dead, slowly warming eyes between his hands as he massages away the aches the cold day brings, and his own skeletal face. “Why are you doing this?” Your voice is low, quiet. Perhaps...a little curious.

Sans doesn’t stop massaging you as he thinks. At last, he responds in an equally low voice. “’cuz i want to. tha’s all.”

And yet, you can’t help but feel as though there is more that he wants to say. More that he traps behind his deadly, shark-like teeth.

But you do not pry. This isn’t the time for it, after all. 

Sans nuzzles your hand in a kiss. Perhaps as thanks for not prying. Perhaps because he wants to. Then, he murmurs, “i wanna make a phone call, sweetheart. will ya wait fer me? i’ll take ya to dinner~”

You haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. The copious amounts of non-alcoholic drinks don’t fill you as much as you hoped they would. Dinner doesn’t sound too bad, so you nod. Just once, without a word. 

The skeleton monster grins at you, half hidden behind your hand that he is still nuzzling. “ya won’t regret it, sweetheart.”

You’re sure you won’t.

[lilllithdraagon]

Snippet Sunday

Got tagged by @sillyliterature . So thank you to them 😊. I'm a bit late to the game but I'm here to play.

Rules: Revisit an old fic (or earlier chapters of your current WIP) and share a snip from:

Your first chapter

Alternatively, if you don’t write longfic, feel free to share your one-shots. Provide as much or as little commentary as you want.

Your favorite chapter

Your most challenging chapter

The fic I've chosen is The Path Not Taken by @lunadys and myself. It's actually the oldest fic I've written and also still a wip. Answers below the cut.

Frozen in panic, Lavi stood there numb as the giant reptilian bird lashed out at her with its jaws, water droplets falling from its maw. Deka yanked Lavi backwards, roughly by her collar, and pulled her up onto a rocky outcropping. The phoenix’s teeth snapped shut around Lavi’s still dangling leg before she had time to acknowledge the appendage was in danger. “Fuck,” Lavi shrieked, the pain setting her nerves on fire. Deka stomped the creature roughly in the face, dislodging it from her friend’s leg before it could get a solid grip. It flailed, scrabbling down the boulder to land in the sand with a satisfying thump, dazed for the moment. Lavi, still gasping in agony tried to staunch the bleeding. Deka didn't respond, instead nocking an arrow to her bow, and trying to figure out where it would be best to shoot the damned thing. She was thirsty, tired, and too irritable to baulk at killing something. After all, she’d done it a handful of times before. What did phoenix taste like? Determined, she loosed the arrow with a curse as it went wide. The beast hissed, having managed to dodge the projectile. "Etunash (Shit)!" She nocked another arrow. "Thing is smart-" The phoenix jumped, nearly snagging Lavi's robe. "Act now. Think later ," she whispered under her breath to steady her nerves. The phoenix clawed at the rock below them, attempting to find a way up. Deka loosed the arrow before she had a chance to second guess. The creature jumped sideways but the arrow found its flesh. Unfortunately, it was still moving. The phoenix faltered, and soon fell as another shot from Deka hit home, straight through its open jaws. "Headshot," Deka blurted in relief. She glanced around to make sure there weren't any other nasty surprises before descending back to the sand.

First Chapter: The Fuckening

Favourite Chapter: CH13 Seduction 101

This chapter has so many good scenes that it's hard to pick just one. There are plenty of more heated parts, but I really like how carefree they all get to be in this scene.

“That was… Thank you, Lavi,” Cassandra said with a soft smile, gently accepting the gift. After appraising it with almost reverence, she tied it around her neck. “It’s beautiful.” “Liar,” Lavi snickered. “I did my best, but the additions look like they were done by a blind twelve-year-old.” “Wait… did Chatterbox just give our Seeker a courting gift?” Varric chimed in with a grin. He gave a conspiratorial wink at the Iron Bull. “What?” Lavi looked between everyone in confusion. Oh, no. “I... it was a token of- Come on! Why would I bring everyone to see- ” “-and have it officially witnessed,” Bull chuckled, interrupting her smoothly. Lavi grew more mortified as she looked to Cassandra who was blushing. Not that she wasn’t attracted to the Seeker, but this was only supposed to be a gesture of friendship! “Pala ma ga . (Fuck you all)” Lavi groused. “I wasn’t- ugh, why do I bother?” “It is an older Nevarran tradition,” Cassandra chuckled, though her hand tightened on the scarf as if to defend it from removal. “I’m afraid I would have to decline. The gift is enough.” Lavi breathed a sigh of relief. “It is still widely recognized,” Solas observed with a quirk of his lips. Lavi glared at him for the betrayal. He knew. He knew that hadn’t been Lavi’s intention, and he was still making her suffer on purpose! Bull and Varric would latch onto that statement just to keep the joke going! “This dick is widely recognised.” Her accent grew thicker as she grabbed the crotch of her pants and flipped the elf off -the Aussie way- for good measure. “Truly? I‘d been certain we left Sera behind,” Solas lamented playfully. Everyone was clearly amused by her discomfort. She was going to kill them all. “Wait… do you have a-” Bull began. “If I do, it’s bigger than yours ,” Lavi snarled, and stomped her way out of the cave in embarrassment. Cassandra was trying to hide her own laughter at this point, but still resolutely kept the gift. When they returned to camp, Lavi immediately went into her tent and pretended she couldn’t overhear Varric quietly recounting the events to Blake and Sera. In that moment, she’d rather fight a brood mother than have to face everyone the next morning. “Apparently,” Varric whispered sternly. “Her dick is widely recognized.” Blake’s snickering and Sera’s manic giggling followed her into the Fade.

Omg this chapter was the biggest pain in a butt to write. You have no idea. The number of times we re-wrote it was astounding.

Most Challenging Chapter: CH18 A Cruel Awakening

“Keep that thing away from me,” the demon demanded, lashing out at those in the front. It stood at the edge of the great cliff, shuffling, and scrambling to find a way down. Those it hit were flung from the height to their deaths below. "Sit pretty and let me eviscerate you!" Lavi growled as she charged quickly toward the panicked creature. Her focus narrowed in on the demon, the rest of her surroundings falling away. “At least I give them choices,” Envy spat, as if reassuring itself as it lashed out. “What choices have you given them?” There was a wild energy about him that she hadn’t sensed before. It spat its words carelessly, accusing, and grating. "You give the illusion of choice," she snarled. Lavi was too angry to consider how her friends might be interpreting their argument. “You do the same thing. Stalking the flock like wolves amongst sheep!” Envy lunged for her, growing fear in its eyes, its claws raking the ground as she dove out of the way. The others had all taken positions around her. Good, that gave her a chance to land the killing blow. A barrier fell over Lavi as Envy slashed its claws at her chest. She brought her sword up, barely managing to deflect the strike. Lavi’s skills had improved greatly since she joined the Inquisition, but she was still a far cry from being a full fledged warrior. "Shut up!" She screamed as she hacked at Envy’s already wounded arm. “Hypocrite,” it snarled. The demon was herded back towards the centre of the yard as Bull charged with his axe. Cassandra was right behind it; corralling the creature as they tried to pull its attention away from Lavi. "Just die!" She threw herself at it with a scream that seemed wrenched from her. The others were forced to retreat as she swung around wildly. Envy screeched as her weapon sliced through the joint of one of its shoulders. Unlike anything made of flesh-and-blood, she hadn’t managed to amputate the limb. The wound shone for a moment, green like the Fade, as it slithered out of reach once more. She followed close behind, slamming her fist into Envy’s face, before it grappled her. The two of them struggled with one another; a tangle of limbs rolling around the courtyard, desperately trying to gain the upper hand. Bull wrangled her free and pushed her a distance behind him. She almost lost her footing and would have if Solas hadn’t grabbed her shoulder to stabilise her. “Don’t let it get in your head,” Bull snarled, bringing his axe down hard. Envy dodged again and Lavi threw another scream of incoherent rage. The demon slipped between Cassandra and another Inquisition soldier, gutting the poor man. Envy was avoiding her. She found herself growing angrier still, swatting aside Solas’ offered assistance, and charging the demon with only one thing on her mind. Bull’s warning was forgotten. Lavi was going to kill it. Solas threw another barrier over her as she descended on Envy with a series of mindless attacks. She wasn’t thinking, she was feeling everything! Everything she had lost. Everything she had sacrificed. Everything she had endured. It evaded her again and again. She could feel her lungs burning with the effort to keep up with it, her arms aching with the weight of her blade. Still she persisted. Arrows and spells whizzed by, some grazing her as they passed, but she didn’t care. None of it mattered. Only killing it mattered. “Wretched bitch!” Envy swatted Cassandra aside, jumping up along a pillar into a gravity defying, horrific perch. She heard Solas and the others yelling for her but they were muted and unimportant. Her focus was entirely on the demon. Inside her mind its words repeated as an echoed mantra. Failure. Hypocrite. Liar. Monster. Even through the anger, one thought persisted. It isn’t wrong .

Thank you again, @sillyliterature for tagging me. As far as tagging others goes, I'd like to tag @danafanel @firekittenscribbles @oxygenforthewicked and @lunadys herself because I'm curious how she would have answered. Anyone else feel free to take seeing this as an open invitation to do this yourselves.

[roguestarsailor]

ranting about how hard it truly is to talk to people out here!! and im just not in a good mood today

i might be just sad because my friends moved to nyc and i miss them and i feel very lonely right now! could also be the bad weather too?

i had lunch w head honcho + 2 other coworkers. we do this yearly and its suppose to be a chance for us to talk to someone we don't usually talk to. its a good idea but at this point im more bothered than anything and it feels like such a chore. the thing is i genuinely try to talk to everybody and meet them where i can!

head honcho is soooo difficult to talk to i swear. idk if he's got time to truly dislike me but i don't get the vibe that we're that chill. but anyways, talking to him is like pulling teeth i swear. he recently had twins and so i was trying to ask him questions about that to get him to talk with me! and he gives me like one sentence answers. he's not mean but it's soooooooooo fucken dry. then i'll try to talk about myself and he doesn't really respond!

during the lunch, one of my coworkers was talking about how during thanksgiving his family makes paella every year and he's unsure why they do that and i was like oh i love paella, that's my goal one day to make it. and then everyone, mostly head honcho who was like oh its so easy just do it and i was like but i need to buy the pan and then hes like just buy the pan its everywhere; it's not that difficult. which ok yeah its true if you break it down step by step and theres an abundant places to buy the pan and get the ingredients and i feel like i have to defend myself. when i say these things i dont mean i physically can't do it it means i don't have the energy to do that in the present moment and it's just something i want to learn to do. i hate when they rag on me and make me feel dumb!

not a single question was ask to me and it was just boys talking to boys. its not like sports or anything but just like work talk, sales, and regular family things especially since thanksgiving is coming up. and i just felt ready to leave. it was so unfulfilling and it wasn't conversation that i can jump in to say anything useful. its so annoying.

times like this is when i really need to figure out how to change my language. i speak and talk to people with the expectation that everyone is participating and open them to speak on their own experiences but maybe i do it so wrong that it makes everyone think i'm dumb and need help?? anyways, its the type of thing where i cant fake my way through. how does he have this so often and can't hold a conversation? or is that reserved for other people? i'd rather sit in silence!!!

i had dinner w another friend and it was also awful ok im being dramatic i think it was just surface level. i think if i have to repeatedly say "oh and look at us that's why we're still friends" i think its a bad sign. that dinner was purely her talking about herself and what she's been doing and how she's got all these people she's got to see and call and facetime and dinners and parties and all that. it's fun to see her be so active but the connection was not there. it was me asking questions and then the same thing that happened at the lunch happened here too. i was saying ugh i want to go shopping and i miss just being able to go. she immediately goes into problem solving mode and tells me oh just go shopping and then proposed we go shopping at this suburban mall where she also has a pizza event and i was like ok yes! this is great! but i am also like wait a minute, it's not even stores i want to shop at?? and she also goes oh i won't be shopping but you can and i dont like that because i don't want to be taken care of, come because you ALSO want to go shopping. you're not my chauffeur and i dont want you to be!

actually i wish people would stop trying to solve my problems. there are times when i ask and times when i am just complaining and ranting! and i want you to rant with me!!! i like when people just get what i mean! when i say ugh i hate that XYZ i'd prefer if they said yeah XYZ is annoying and when ABC happened to me i was just as mad. that's what im looking for. i'm not helpful but i am full of complaints and rants!

i feel like i need to fix my language...but i don't know how to hold a conversation well. i don't want it to be just purely statements. it should be interactive and shouldn't we all be trying to be in someone else's shoes as they speak?

anyways im not happy today. stupid russian man was in my brain today because he is interacting w that friend that moved to nyc's strava and im filled with jealousy and rage and on top of that, it's just so much of these surface level interactions and i am sick of them. absolutely sick of them. fighting my demons and loneliness and it was especially hard today.

[solardick]

Card И. The next step is equaleving it to the & card. As it stands for the same letter. As and. The addition.

And it looks like they captured the last episode and externalized it as someone else. Stilled smoked half a pack though. Because i’m a dumbass but, that’ll never change. And that also showed that am i not alone in the way i react to. BS. Though on a small scale for my level of experience to causes.

Though i also found it curious about the И card image i used resembles the letter & to a high degree. No? I think so.

Naw, starting to not like russia. Chechen and the letter X. Becomes a general. In his prime. Good bye child, good graces to you.

My advancements on the tarot have been, suppressed by something else. Lately.

Kind of just want the calm before the storm. Its a quiet. Sombering. Well, heres the outcome of all those years conditioning. Disease.

Thats where ive been, grew out from it.

Oh, wise one i bow. The special forces are an A. Though, there’s this queer moment. For the letter V of an image of a feminine body gracing the subject with water. As strength is in truth. Read it from wiki. Must be true.

But as we explore and i’m given new information. One finds a window to the exclusive. And where that strings leads.

“The unit i, also known as imaginary number i, represents the value of the square root of -1 and part of the number system called imaginary numbers. An imaginary number is the value of the square root of a negative number. The numbers are not fake just simply have no place on the number line like real numbers.”

At any rate. Going yo resign from being a part of the health and safety comity. Can’t do it. Not if i have to come home and be alone. I can’t function. I’ll just drift from any responsibilities and not have a head in the game. And with Pluto moving in. Knowing i don’t own my own life. Just gonna fuck it all up anyway. As soon as i open that door. Its silence. Nothing else. No words. No sound. No movement. The same as its been all my life. Even when coming home to house full of assholes. Never been any communication at home. Bever will be.

As for the present time. I can sit there and game for 16 straight hours or sit behind my phone. And let words speak for themselves. It’s not like anyone has ever had anything to say to me anyway.

Fucken stupid fucken country abd stupid fuckrn healthcare systwm. Fuck you. Dont call me at work. I cant answer. Called bavk after work. No sound. A dead line. Well i tried. Leave the infection to fuck my insides. After 3:30 or on the weekend. Whem? Monda6 fucken morning. Thats ehen. Its bad enough. Im not even allowed to go t o a clinic.

Hello operator from anoyher country. That has a hard time soeaking my fucken language. Fuck you.

Maybe it’ll get so bad that i’ll have to go get surgery and waste a hundreb thousand dollars instead of a 20$ bottle or anti biotics instead. Sounds like aplan. Fuck i hate canada.

Ivr done a couple hours on duo-lingo. Think im qualified enough to get a job working for the russian helarhcare system behind a phone.

They are so fucken with me. Fourth call…. Hello do uou speak french. Not functionalyl enough to describe anything. Ok. Give me your number my colleage will get back to you. Its fun spendign an entire lifetime being fucked with. 39 tears and counting. They’re never going to stop.

Hello suicide. Welcome back. Whats up buddy. My longest known friend.

Cheers to tyranny. Theres more of it than not. Always was. Always will be. Well go to the hospital wait in the E.rmR for another 13 hours. For them to tell me to come back another day. Pray. I cant go through the proper channels.

Get me out of this horrorscope prison cell you’ve put me in.

I dont want to pay for health insurance anymore. All i get is the opposite. If i cant even get my rights fulfilled. Image trying to do a privilege.

Its like driving is a privilege. That i have to pay for even if i don’t drive.

Though i can smoke, cigs and pot, and game and watch tv buy alcohol. No problem. Its handled with curtesy and a smile. I even have a guy, that will give me methadetamines. For free! Wow. Not that i’ll do it willingly. Doesnt mean i havent been drugged with them. To make me unstable. Went to go get a cup of coffee. Recently. They put speed in it. I expect canada to make that legal soon too.

As for the health and safety comity, that i got roped in applying for. I declined it. Everytime i did that as a kid. People did it anyway. And i got shot in for it. So nope. Not with pluto moving in on it.

The world is designed for people wirh engeneered stress disorders. To get fucked by life. I do t look forward to the day wheb im completly dependant in the health care system. When im old. Holy fick.

Fifth call. From an unknown number. Hi, my colleage didnt soeak french yesterday. So we’re calling to be evil degenerate fuckers of humanity and rub in as much as we can. While tour supposed to be at work where you have zero reception. And cant take calls. Told her to suck to evil out of my ass.

Well since im goign to be waitingn here for anothe r ten hours. Go smoke some smokes. Study russain if the drowsiness doesnt go away.

Too bad the words for “bad language” or “abuse” is seemingly identical to “Mother”. Being мат and мать. I cant tell the difference. Being being explained that ь succeeding the previous letter combines them to a y sound. And yet. Listenign to audio recordings of both мат & мать. They sound the same.

These are what you’re looking for. The differnece for here at the moment is passive abuse versus active abuse. Is there a difference? There is. One gets away with it and the other doesnt. Because we’ll bred to be passive and receptive. The same go for the abuse. It wasnt eliminated just changed gender. It safer to abuse people with passivity than activity. They’re no consequemces involved.

Looking for things like this. When it comes to the power of symbols. And attached meaning. As for the russian to english equates abuse with the mother. Beign abused by “caretaker” “authorities”. Or abusing the mother. And not by the mother. And these cockskrs here fucken with me.

Im not allowed to have a non-abusive mothet. Or father. Or sibblings. Doesnt matter. Its all мат to me. But one continues on with the passivity until the other explodes or implodes. Or kills themsleves. Somehow. And vents out the frustration. And then you go active abuse. Beat them down for callign you out. Thats life.

Other than that. The A-fool should be feminine. And the E fool masculine. All life starts with the feminine. And the play on words. Like beauty vs booty. They sound similar. Amd yet not at all different. A booty is beauty. And eau brings it all back to the caressing of the mother and the lion. Other wise we have two male fools each besides the devil card and associations to carnality. Which works beautifully. Because. An upside down A. Represents inclusion. A one for all. But doesn’t add them. As a sum total. Because it’s all about the individual. At this point. Which is fitting also for eau is litterally to word for water in french. But we’ee trying to be ignorant like most of these other fuckers. And detach the tarot script from its perversion of its designed rape of mankind.

For example. This little girl is being repeatative about calling out for daddy, dah, dah! Da dah da da. I put my book down. Look her right in the eyes. Gave her the attention she was missing with a detached/attached sense of silence. And she quieted down completely. Little girls are like that with me. They reach out and call me daddy. The breeding ones. Do nothing about abuse me. And the older ones are usually super chill.

And i come back in and the guy that was beside me is gone and a woman took his place. Both of is chewing on jerky.

It’s interesting that the russian letters change their pronunciation as another letter when it comes to them being placed to hard and soft consonants or at the beginning of a word to the end of a word. D turns into k. V turns into F. This seems like a fun area to explore the use of imaginary/complex numbers and bridging them to the real. If i understand that right. Theres not much difference between the russian words for water and vodka. And vodka is supposedly pronounced as votka. Wheres as the D changes form to a T.

Hey look, my conscience is back and the fear of reprimand. But, you know what? Y’all right. I don’t need one.

The tragedy of the baltimore bridge collapse happened at the same time as health service canada called. While not being able to respond. Down in the water. People died. But only the construction workers minding they’te own bussiness. But save for there not beign andingle car on the bridge because authorities where given a warning. They just left six people on the bridge anyway? Yeah ok.

Checked my phone. That be 10 calls to or from the gap. With nothing. A dead line and bs.

Well thee goes three hundred dollar cause im not allowed to go to a clinic.

That was a waste of everyones time. Sorry wewont help you. Come nack when your dying.

Well time to go home and chain smoke.

Does it hurt? Sometimes. But since there aint any pain receptors there. You dont feel much at all. Do you have reason to beleive its an std? What?! Ive been single for twenty years. (She gave a suppressed gasp of astonishment)( i know im super sexy and all) women give me fuck me eyes all the time. If their not trying to fuck me over. If i habe an std its because someone purposfukly gave me one.

Sorry im going to touvhc your prostate. You may feel uncomfortable…… ok. Whatever. That’s my prostate? Feels like every other partof my ass. (Uncomforatble. And raw. And like its infected. Goes with the stages of the moon. Like an infection does) People say that feels good? Know what feels good. Taking a huge shit. After youve been holding in it all day. Am i right?!

Oh Ну, ar leat i learned soem russian grammar while waiting these last ten hours. Djould hav eyet to the pot store first. Now its closed. Maybe i’ll

Find a big roach in the ground. Well if all the children didnt get to them first.

It’ll go away on its own. Its been over a month. Yeah sometimes it takes longer. Ok then. Probably something i got drugged with.

An dnow its time to wait for my jailers to mentioned exactly what i told to nurse today. And then ill punch them in the nose as hard as i can. Still need to get my hunting permit for a quick painless way out.

Wahts it mean when you find a dead goffer before spring? That sunmer isnt gonna come at all? Can. You imagine everyday being fall? Wakenup in the morning put on a winter coat fo home in the evening wearing shorts and a wife beater. There

hasnt been a winter. This year. Its perma fall.

Well its 1 am. Got to get ul in four hours. Guess im not going to work. All i can feel is the sicknessnin my ass. And even agter going to the hospital. I walk out. Not knowing any better than i did. Not having a diagnosis. And a cheap quicky look. I fucken hate life.

[nineliabilityrisk]

⭐

[ send a " ⭐ " and i will list muses i would be interested in throwing at yours ]

[ asked by @muutos ]

this one took a while to get to bc i realized how much i wanted birdie to interact with some of ur muses and then got distracted with trying to set up her blog and stuff but im here to answer this now hopefully . my brain is still all over the place please excuse me

[formatting is "your muse - my muse(s) i would like to see with them"]

vanessa - sb verse mikey :] torment this little shit. because the concept of these two interacting is so fucking hilarious im so happy the movie brought it up and this way it doesnt even have to be movieverse. also i NEED her and birdie to interact so so so bad im trying so hard to finish up birdies sideblog its taking forever but i wanted the chance to give them a lil separate space to themselves. uh who else. i have glambun and cassie of course, she can have fun with them, and joshton also has a sb verse!! i know i never talk about him but id love love love to introduce him with vanessa or one of ur other muses

henry emily - cmon. i love your henry so much id willingly throw literally ANY of my muses at him i <3 him. ive already spent eons talking abt how much i love the potential dynamic between him and michael because i DO, so so so much. also just like i said to nic, he can interact with literally any of my animatronics whenever. i NEED interactions with him and lefty there is something so personal about those two. and of course ciarán goes without saying. your henry already gave him too much attention (like. literally one [1] positive sentence so far) and hes already hooked. good luck getting rid of that fucker. hes never letting go. sorry you shouldve known better than to be sweet with him (/lh)

mangle - im ngl i would love to have interactions with them and one of my withered animatronics. or jeremy, yknow,,, before Shit Goes Bad. could be fun. joshton Also has a verse where he works in the fnaf 2 location because i just kinda stick him wherever he would fit so if you wanna use it to traumatize the poor little minimum wage worker go right ahead i think itd be real funny

freddy fazbear - b..bonnie... thats it just bonnie i want the classic duo back i dont care what era. also if you want him to torment mike or josh theyre always up for it, as has been mentioned multiple times

roxanne wolf + glamrock freddy - lumping them together because theyd be interacting with about the same characters. same list as vanessa!!! its so funny because i wasnt interested in sb at ALL before ruin / interacting with you and ur little corner of the rpc and now im. fucken entangled in it. help.

vincent demarco - weve talked abt my interest in him before but like i said every time you rb some musings about him or something i go a little insane. also did you know his birthday is literally one day before mine i just realized it when i checked his bio page. anyway i really wanna toss like. ciar or josh or someone at him at some point just to see what would happen. he just intrigues me i just wanna see whats goin on in that brain of his idk idk

these arent really specific muse matchups but. every time i see you play like. stu or gwen or ar'alani i lose my mind a little and get reminded of all the muses from their medias i could pick up but i have to stop myself bc thats so much WORK. the star wars fixation would be enough to overpower it and make me find someone to interact with ar'alani if it werent for the fact that i havent managed to get my hands on the thrawn books yet and ive never watched star trek so i dont know anything about your interpretation and it makes me so so so upset. anyway this is an open offer (that may not make sense if you havent watched star wars rebels) but if you would like i would pick up ezra bridger to interact with her in a HEARTBEAT. it wouldnt matter how fucking clueless i am because hes clueless as shit too. i am so so sorry if this sounds overbearing or something i do NOT mean for it to be i have just been wanting to play these star wars muses for YEARS now. the star wars community is just so much more terrifying than this little group here. so the fact that someone that i know and trust and have written with before has even Somewhat of a star wars muse has. driven me a little bit insane. (/pos) this is all /nf of course im just. yeah 👍 this probably makes no fucking sense im sorry i am unwell about star wars

[slashingdisneypasta]

Foxy Coltrane x Reader || Oneshot

Plot: Inspired by the song ‘Somebody I Fucked Once’ (By Zolita). Basically you and Foxy fucked once. He’s really fond of you, you’re kinda shaky about him, and oh his siblings are there too. This is just me giving Foxy a try at writing for.

Warnings: This turned out a lot cuddlier than I intended, but there is much swearing- and Otis threatens to make you into a Futon once.

You thought it was odd when there was a knock at your door, at… 1 in the morning. But you got your shotgun and snuck up the door, anyway; Peering out the peep hole carefully to see who it could possibly be this early in the morning… before rolling our eyes deeply upwards and stepping back, setting your shotgun in the umbrella stand - still very much within reach, - and opening the door with a frown.

“Well, hell-o there, Y/N. Sorry… did we wake you??” What an asshole, you think as your Worst Mistake Ever, Winslow Foxworth Coltrane greets you from the porch- his own shotgun lean carelessly on his shoulder. Behind him is two others, a scrawny-santa-looking man you know to be Otis B Driftwood - though, he used to be even smaller. Prison must have fed him well over the years, - and a beautiful woman called Baby Firefly running her hands through the multicoloured metal tubes you have hanging off the roof- the melodic sound they make ringing across the dark, baron street. Her hair looks even better then the one other time you met these two, as well, and you chalk that up to prison shampoo and probably vegetable intake, too.

Because sighing would mean weakness, and weakness is not a thing to show in front of this family, you instead offer this man nothing but a hard glare. “What are you doing here, Fox?”

“Mmm… “He moans instead of answering you properly, sniffing the air before a broad grin slowly slips across his face. “You cookin’?”

“Roast.” You respond, huffing. Look, you had a midnight craving and a chicken in the fridge, and you’re an goddamn adult who knows how to cook- so what in the hell was stopping you from preparing a roast in the middle of the night?? Nothing.

You kinda wish you had just gone back to bed now, though. Then there would have been at least 50 percent chance that you didn’t hear him when he knocked on your door this night, and at least a 12 percent chance that he would have just left and taken his crazy siblings with him.

But you didn’t. You got out the chicken and the herbs and preheated the oven and now the door is wide open and he knows you’re here and there’s no going back.

“Glad to hear we didn’t wake ya.” Like his grins, his drawl is slow and deliberate, and you blame that on the Huge Mistake you made, too. Stupid old man being unnecessarily sexy. Fuck him.

Except- no- that’s how all this bullshit started; The Ginormous Mistake, in fact.

Fox turns his head to address Otis, who is staring directly into your soul, and Baby who is humming and making you equally as uncomfortable. “Guys she is a fantastic cook… Looks like we came at just the right time.”

What- “No, you didn’t. Its all for me.”

“You’re gonna eat a whole fucken roast?” Otis speaks up, trigger finger itching in the pocket of his coveralls. You can tell because he lifts the handle as far against the jeans material as he can and then taps it back against his thigh a couple of times. Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and set him very a stern look. You won’t be intimidated by a fucken necrophiliac. Ridiculous.

“Yes.”

“Mmmm!” Baby distracts you from Otis quickly, as she takes a deep breath in through her nose and sighs. “That does smell good! Agh… tummy so growly.” She hugs her tummy and pouts, and you roll your eyes again.

“There’s a 7-11 down the road you can knock-off,” You inform her, a deadpanned tone in your voice.

“Oh, come on!!”

“Now if you’ll excuse me- “You try your luck and start closing the door, but unfortunately the late hour has not affected Fox’s agility and a foot wedges itself in the way before you can click and lock it shut. Damn.

He steps in closer to you, the cap on his head damn near whacking you in the forehead. “Now, now Y/N… we’ve got history.” Yes, you do. You acknowledge that. But since that history is exactly what you’re trying to avoid repeating, bringing that up is certainly not going to help his case. Does he care? No- “Why dontcha let us in?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of 3 fugitives from the law, hangin’ out in my kitchen!” You insist, putting your foot down and attempting to stare him down too- to no avail, though, as he smirks in your face.  

Fox is about to say something else to you, when a hand comes out of nowhere and actually shoves him out of the way so Otis can get in your face. Well, at least he’s brushed his teeth with something other than bourbon in the last week, you think as the sent of stale toothpaste wafts unpleasantly up your nose. Baby giggles behind him, though you can’t see her. “Hey!- “

“Shut up.” Otis doesn’t even spare his irritated brother a glance, attention on you. You don’t stand down even an inch, though. “Look bitch, let us in now, or I’ll make you into a fucken futon.”

Now, you sigh Because the idea is deeply unpleasant and ruins your mood even worse than it already was- but also drag out the shotgun you has in the umbrella stand and abruptly hold it up to the man’s throat before he can even take the gun he has, out of his pocket. Then flash a forced smile and he huffs. “Sorry, what was that, Otis??”

“Fuck… “

“Back up, asshole.”

He does as told, miraculously - something to do, probably, with the likelihood of having his skull shot to pieces if he indeed stayed where he was, - and crosses his arms beside his still-putting sister. You suddenly get a really good mental image of what they must have been like as children, and almost smile. “Yeah, yeah… fucken bitch… “

“Come on Y/N… we just need a place to stay for a few hours. A place to sleep other then the van… and maybe a plate or two of your cookin’,” Fox gives a roguish grin, almost charming, as if lightening the air as he takes his place in front of you again. “Promise I’ll be on my best behaviour… and I’ll look out for these two assholes, too.”

Despite your better judgement, his attempt at being polite are wearing you down. Still, stink-face on, you adjust your grip on your shot gun and raise a brow, expectantly. “What does you best behaviour look like?”

Grin broadening once again, because the smug bastard knows he’s winning finally and you’re breaking, he straightens and up and squares his shoulders. “Why don’t you let us in and see, huh?”

Taking in a deep breath, you sigh it out and pull your shot gun away from him. “Don’t go anywhere near my room, any of you.”

“Scouts honour.”

“If you were ever actually a scout I’ll give you a thousand bucks.”

~

After dinner, or breakfast, or whatever the hell that meal was - at which these 3 literally cleaned you out. Not just the roast was eaten, but all the shit in your cupboards, too. Baby’s currently dragging a carrot through a rapidly emptying jar of peanut butter, -, you retire to the living room away from them and unpause the movie you were watching. As you’re getting comfortable, or as comfortable as you will allow yourself to be with 3 homicidal maniacs in your kitchen, Fox strolls in and plops down next to you.

You wedge a pillow between the two of you.

“Hey, what’re you watchin’? Looks good.”

“Just some black-and-white.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you turn your head to look at him. “You done cleaning me out, then??”

“Hey, I wanted to leave you the granola but Otis’ a bit stung from how you did him earlier with the shotgun.” He chuckles, the memory funny to him as he shakes his head at it.

“So, he’s in there eating my granola?”

“Dry.”

At that, you finally give in. You smile, snorting and turning back to the TV. The thought of that groan man choking down a box of dry, 5 month old granola in there is honestly hilarious.

“So she does have the ability to fucken smile.” Fox immediately comments, making you want to clam up all over again. But you don’t, you just force yourself to shake you head at it and point at the TV.

“Watch the movie.”

“… Yes Ma’am… “

~

With a groan, you push off the couch and roll your shoulders back once the movie is over, before grabbing your pillow off the couch and turning pointing sternly over it at Foxy. “Welp, I’m going to bed. Don’t break anything.”

The other two are still in the kitchen, but you can hear Otis snoring from here so you know that at least he’s asleep- if Baby’s still awake then that’s okay. As long as she doesn’t kill anyone in here, you think the house will survive. Fox was dozing beside you while the movie played but was awake enough to commentate on it every now and then in an even slower, sleep-crowded voice, but now has his eyes open, watching you. “No kiss goodnight then baby?”

“Not in your dreams, Winslow.” You laugh, rolling your eyes at him as you step over his long-ass legs to get by. As you’re turning to get around the couch and towards the hall that leads to your bedroom again, though, he grabs your arm and with a sudden tug- you’re back on the couch stuck in the crevice between the arm, and him. “Fox!”

“Shh, people are fucken sleeping. Otis is sleeping, actually. And trust me when I tell ya you do not wanna wake him up. He’s a real dick in the morning.”

“Just the morning??” You ask, eyes wide and blank, making him cough out a laugh at you.

Meanwhile you try to get up and let this be a joke, but strong fingers curls around your waist and dig into your skin unwilling to let you escape. Groaning, you turn to him with a stern glare, reading let me the fuck go even as your faces are close enough to make out; A fact that does not escape your notice.

“Come on… haven’t I been well-behaved?”

“Sure, but you don’t get rewarded with sex just because you’ve been good- you get to stay here. That was the deal. Now let me go back to be- “

“Y/N… “Oh, fuck, your name in his voice and that slow, fucking drawl… So not fair.

“I was dreaming about Tom Cruise in that new Top Gun movie.” You blurt out bluntly in Fox’s face, ignoring the perturbed look, there. “I’d really like to get back to tha- “Suddenly Fox leans down, undeterred by your arguments as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You jaw drops. “Excuse me!- “

“Aghhh… “He sighs there, breathing in the smell of your body wash and shampoo. “I fucken missed this.”

“Winslow Foxworth Coltrane!- “ A big hand weaves up into your hair, rough fingertips massaging gently into the back of your scalp.

“Shhh, remember the long-haired fucker in the other room.”

Defiant as ever, you tense up on purpose and state: “I’ll call for him. This is assault.” Assault that admittedly feels really nice. Damn it.

Fox’s other arm goes around your waist and he just gathers you up against him, hugging you. Your eyes widen as your resolve slips away from you. “Missed you.”

“Ah- “Oh no. What was that? What did he say? “Fox- “You push at him, but to no avail. Plus, you weren’t really trying. You sigh, and give up. “You’re half-asleep Fox, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

His grip around you just gets a little tighter- not hurting, but… warm. All-Engulfing. “… sure… “He doesn’t sound invested, or even like he cares, but he’s holding onto you like you’re precious and important and it make you want to melt. You won’t, because for all you know he’s high, but you do allow yourself to relax in this dangerous man’s grip. “Come with us tomorrow, wontcha?”

Ha, you chuckle. “No, I won’t.”

“Damn… “Slowly he pulls back, and you see a grin on his, admittedly, handsome face. Even if it is dirty. “Gonna haveta kidnap ya, huh?”

You point a stern finger at him. “Try it, bucko.”

“I just might.”

“Euuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh,” Baby exclaims, suddenly, from behind the couch, and you both turn to find the most disgusted look on her face as she looks between you. “You two are sick! Damn- fuck or something; Get a room. Anything but this. I don’t wanna see that. Ugh.”

[miekasa]

love talk

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: it’s not important that eren is a tattoo artist i just wanted to share bc i gave him tattoos here :’), fluff i think, smut/nsfw content, if you see a hint of eremin then no you don’t </2

+ word count: almost 2k, sickening innit luv

+ notes: yeah, still thinking about eren speaking german during sex bc he’s losing his mind hehe. i suppose this is the… softer version. might post another one later, who knows. and yes, i did almost name this pussy talk. 

Unbeknownst to him, Eren Jaeger speaks three languages.

The first two are obvious, but English is his preferred language; the one you’ll find him speaking most often. It only makes sense, seeing as it’s what the overwhelming majority of people, media, and signs spew at him.

The second is more reserved; something you might assume given his name, but not know for sure unless you asked, or stuck around long enough to catch him rambling excitedly to Armin in German, with broken slang phrases of English interspersed. It’s fascinating—cute, moreover—the way he stumbles back and forth between both tongues; and the difference in tone between them. You’re not sure if your own bias is peeking through, but you’re certain Eren and Armin both sound a little… meaner in German; more sarcastic, at the very least—and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were talking shit the whole time.

Though, there is a special, reserved intonation to his mother tongue that shows itself when Eren’s around you. It doesn’t seem to be by choice—gone beyond comprehension that he’s forced to revert to grunted expressions and curses in a language foreign to his surroundings. You assume them to be curses; you never can confirm, and Eren seems to not even be aware of his switching in the heat of the moment, can never quite recall what he was saying to you.

There are times when he’s reduced to mere sounds, no comprehensible words between the hundreds of thousands he knows—only guttural moans, and breathy sighs, and he seems to not even be able to understand himself. You have to admit, it’s a bit of an ego boost to be able to fuck your boyfriend stupid in two languages.

And at first glance, Eren doesn’t seem like the type of guy to know about anything outside of himself. He doesn’t seem like the full-sleeve, three ear piercing, tattoo artist kinda kid; but Eren Jaeger speaks the language of pictures, of symbols, of images, that he is able to decipher and give meaning to upon creation. He’s got a penchant for art, and a vision bigger than himself, so it’s only right that he takes his knowledge and applies it in its most permanent form. The tattoos are more than a hobby for him—they’re an extension of himself, his art, his language; and his body is the only canvas fit enough to capture them.

So, here, with Eren laying on his back, chest exposed, arms bent for his hands to rest against your waist, you get to see the culmination of all the words and all the pictures, from all the languages he’s deemed important enough to find a place on his skin.

“Do all of your tattoos have a meaning?” you question, reaching your hand up to trace over the delicate waves that ride along his right collarbone.

“No,” Eren winces when you move—just enough of him to feel an ounce of friction inside of you, but not enough to give him what he wants. He wiggles himself a bit, desperate for something, “Not at all.”

It makes you chuckle, with a sort of disbelief, at both his words and his actions, “You get things tattooed on your body that don’t mean anything to you?”

Eren lets out a shaky breath, followed with a boyish smile. He blinks at you slowly, lids fluttering and hands gripping tightly at your body, “Learned that not everything has to have a deep meaning to want to keep it around,” he tells you, right palm moving to venture over your tummy, and up your sides, “Somethings you just love.”

You don’t miss the lilt in his voice on the word ‘love,’ but you play it off, rolling your eyes at his deliberately sweet affections, and then, gently, your hips, “Pretty poetic for something with no meaning.”

“Yeah, well, Armin taught me that,” Eren grits, hands fastening themselves at your hips again.

“You talk about Armin a lot when we’re in bed you know,” you taunt him, moving your fingers to trace over more of the tattoos that litter his right shoulder, “Something I should know about?”

Eren shivers at the feeling—of your fingertips on his skin, and what he swears was an intentional clench around him, “You don’t seem to mind.”

You smile at him, enjoying the contortions of his face when you run your hands down his chest, palms pressed lightly against his pelvic bone. Eren bends a knee, but does he best to remain still, and you can’t help but to chuckle. He looks pretty when he’s trying his best.

“I’m greedy,” you tell him, raising your hips, and pausing in your words as you slowly lower yourself back on to him.

“Trust me,” Eren scoffs, a façade to cover up his reddening cheeks and shaky thighs, “I know.”

He tries to move his hips up, desperate for something more; for you to fucking move, but, you keep your hips perfectly still. Instead, you reach your arms behind you, and onto Eren’s thighs, cementing them to the bed. He groans, his hands sliding down to your own thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh.

“And you called me greedy,” you huff, amused, as Eren rolls his eyes beneath you. When you’re sure he’s not going to move, you bring your arms back around, palms splayed on his stomach, “Relax. This is what you asked for, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, in an ideal world, this would be happening when I was playing COD, not when I was already impossibly hard with morning wood. And with a lot less teasing on your part.”

You have to laugh—genuinely giggle—at Eren’s blunt honesty. He’s unintentionally charming; another linguistic skill he seems unaware that he’s proficient in. You can tell he doesn’t understand the source of your amusement, but the look in his eyes, the twinkle in his irises lets you know he’s too far gone to even care.

“Call it a lesson in self-control,” you say, moving your hands to his sides in time with a shallow grind of your hips, “Besides, I’m admiring you.”

Eren keeps his hands anchored on your thighs, shivering at sensitivity of his dick coupled with your hands stroking over his pecs, “Lesson fucking learning—babe, fuck, please—”

“Shh—not yet,” you coo, and reach to pull his arms off of you, leaving you with room to admire his sleeve. You take pity on him, holding his right wrist with both of your hands, before slowly beginning to bounce on him.

Eren squirms, his free hand reaching to grab at the flesh of your ass, eyes blinking open to watch his cock be buried inside of you. The relief is instant—for the both of you—immediate groans and shallow profanities slipping past your lips as you build a steady pace to ride him.

“Tell—tell me what this one means,” you question slowly, keeping your right hand around his wrist, but using your left to point to the tattoo; a stylized line art of crossed wings.

“Some shit about freedom,” Eren grunts, fingers twitching, “Fuck, babe—more, please, I’ll—”

Eren cuts himself off with a whine, and you hiss yourself, lifting your body all the way to the tip, before lowering yourself again at an agonizingly slow pace. At this rate, you can feel everything; every vein on his shaft, every twitch of his cock. You feel Eren deep inside of you, even see where the bulge outlines your tummy.

You still yourself for just a second, catching your breath, anchoring yourself on Eren. You’re pretty far gone yourself, but you want more; for yourself, and for him. You do your best to stay coherent, slowly grinding atop of him, questioning him about another tattoo on his arm, ignoring the way his palm grips at your bicep. It’s a small one, with detailed Japanese characters that you can’t understand, but appreciate anyway; it’s one of your favorites, and you ask Eren about its meaning, clenching yourself around him as punctuation to your question.  

Eren sucks air between his teeth, left hand pulling back to run his fingers through his hair, a grunted word in German falling from his lips. You smirk, but let him try to answer you.

“I don’t fucken’ know,” Eren grumbles, head thrashing from side to side, “It’s really fucken’ hard to remember anything—shit—like this. S’fucking torture.”

“Hm,” you hum, not satisfied; eager for more of Eren’s love language, “Tell me something in German, instead, then.”

But Eren can only babble beneath you; sounds incoherent in either language—reduced to desperate whines and grabby hands at your thighs, waist, boobs—anything. You lean forward, letting go of Eren’s tattooed wrist, and reaching to ghost your fingers over his lips.

“Come on, Eren, you’re usually so good at it when we do this,” you taunt him, words coated in sweetness that distract you from keeping up your pace, “Just want you to talk pretty to me. Tell me something, baby.”

Eren’s eyes travel from your fingertips, up your arm, neck, and to your face. When he meets your gaze something shifts; eyes heavy with want, and bitter with dissatisfaction.

So, he reaches for your extended hand, laces your fingers together, “Something like what?”

You wrap your fingers around his, then do the same with your left hand, “Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a smile, finally satisfied.

Eren grunts, bending his right knee for leverage before he flips you over, hands still intertwined, but now pinned over your head, harshly pressed into the pillows below. He buries his head into the crook of your neck; licking a stripe along your collarbone, where you’d teased him minutes before. Then up, up, up, your neck to the shell of your ear, retreating downwards to suck on the skin just beneath your ear, nipping with pointed teeth.

Eren keeps his weight on you, the length of his cock sliding over your slick folds while he bites angry, red blotches into your skin—a kind of impermanent tattoo of his own making on your body. The friction is good, but not enough, and you wonder if Eren intends on teasing you as long as you’d done to him; but, he breathes heavy breaths up your neck again, before mumbling a series of foreign syllables into your ear.

He hovers over your face, satisfied by the daze in your eyes; the slight openness of your mouth. It’s you who looks dumbstruck now, a foreigner to his ministrations; and for once, he’s in control with his second tongue.

“What—what does that mean?” you finally ask, squeezing your eyes briefly when Eren teases the tip just past your entrance.

Eren chuckles, airy, gritty, and cocky all at once. He pushes his cock inside of you, balls deep, only to pull out almost all the way, before leaning forward just slightly, so that his bottom lip grazes over yours.

“It means I love you,” he whispers, hips bucking forward, “Try to remember that, ‘cause I swear I’m gonna fuck you stupid, baby.”

[milqueandsugar]

Different MCYTs reacting to you wearing their hoodie/cape/clothing! If you write a scene with any of them please use He/Him pronouns if you can't use those then They/Them!

🏵 Your Tea Is Ready 🏵

Warnings: None

Genre: fluff

| Ghostbur |

it was common for the two of you to go for midnight walks 

Ghostbur didn’t sleep, and you were a night owl, so it made sense most of your activities occurred after hours 

this night was no different 

okay it was a little different, the weather that was 

it had been nice all day, arguably it was rather hot 

however it seemed that the nice weather was only a facade as the wind and rain were quick to pick up a little after one am 

while the two of you were in the middle of no where

luckily Ghostbur was able to take some cover under a nearby tree, unfortunately it wasn’t big enough to shelter the both of you 

“Oh, Y/N switch places with me, you’re going to catch a cold!”

“And you’ll melt, I’ll be fine Ghostbur” 

“I’ll be okay!”

“shh! I’m not taking a no on this one, I’ll be okay! I have a great immune system thank you very much” 

despite how much you would like to pretend the cold wasn’t causing you immense amounts of discomfort, your body had betrayed you 

you could hardly keep still as your teeth chattered and shiver wracked up and down your spine 

feeling incredibly guilty Ghostbur found himself shedding himself of his sweater

Ignoring the stinging pain of the water splashing against his skin he wrapped his sweater around your shoulders

“Huh?”

“If you aren’t going to switch places with me I’d rather you be warm”

you let out a little chuckle and slip the dampening sweater over your head, it fit almost perfectly on you, a little loose in the sleeves but it was nice

Ghostbur thanked the gods that it was so dark out and you couldn’t see the blush overcoming his face, he never knew how good you looked in his clothes before, he should give you his sweater more often

“Thanks ‘Bur”

“Y-you’re welcome..!”

| Punz |

you had always been a fan of the merchants jewelry 

the golden chains and ocaasional gem stones always captured your eye 

and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit jealous 

luckily enough you were friends with the man, so surely you could jsut ask to borrow some right? 

his fit of uncontrollable laughter was enough to shatter your heart, let along the words that followed it 

“You want to what?” 

“Wear your jewelry! There’s a ball coming up and-”

“AHAHAHA! You’re kidding me right? You want my jewelry?”

“Well I’d return it of course-”

“Sure you would, Y/N, sure I’d let you borrow them” 

“h-huh? Really?”

“- with a price of course”

You’re face dropped as Punz ran one of his hands over the rings on the other, taunting you 

he had more shit then he’d ever wear! 

he doesn’t even like them! All he does is complain about the ‘hinderances ’! 

In your humiliated brooding an idea suddenly came to mind, well, more of a scheme then anything

“How about I challenge you for them?” 

“Oh?” 

It didn’t matter what the challenge was

Nor did it matter whatever silly rules Punz made before hand 

what did matter is that you absolutely crushed him, and now not only was he driving you to the ball, he also had to lend you whatever jewelry you desired 

Knocking begrudgingly on your door it didn’t take long for you to answer and when you did, oooh boy

The way the gold glittered in the moonlight, the rings decorating your fingers, slightly to big for you 

You’re glamourous suit, he could’ve sworn he had died and went to heaven 

“Ready to be my personal driver?”

his words fall flat as he opened his mouth to retort, all he could focus on was... well you 

“Punz, you okay?”

“You look so fucken hot” 

“PUNZ!” 

| Awesamdude |

With Sam’s work as the warden, he didn’t have much time for self care 

let alone house care, and the neglect showed

deciding you could no longer allow you’re friend to live in such disrepair you had taken it upon yourself to clean up after him 

he did so much for you and the rest of the server, he deserved to be taken care of as well! 

That’s how you found yourself spending your days organizing through the mans chests, files, even keeping his garden up to date

no plant went unwatered, no cobweb left up for more then a day 

and although he insisted you spend your time on your own projects it was easy to break him down 

being a warden was hard work afterall, in his defense he was exhausted when you came up with the idea! 

Eventually you’re cleaning spree lead you to his bedroom, a place you seldom enter to respect his privacy 

that being said the glimpses you caught of it were horrific. how he didn’t catch some sort of sickness was impressive, though certainly worrying 

You had just finished clearing the floor of loose trash and clothes when you began to fold what you hoped was clean laundry back into the drawers of his dresser 

soon enough however you had stumbled upon a crown, one of his older ones seeing as there were many a redstone stains and gouges in its still shiny surface 

maybe it was curiosity 

more so the boredom of the repeated tasks 

but you soon found yourself taking in you’re figure in his mirror, crown sat above you’re head 

just as you were about to do a twirl for yourself a voice caught your attention 

“It looks good on you” 

“Ahh! Sam! I’m sorry I didn’t know you’d be home so early” 

“Don’t worry about it, I took the day off, seriously though it looks good on you, you should keep it” 

“oh, are you sure?”

“Of course” 

[softer-ua]

I see kids with very little life experience are loudly giving their opinion on multifaceted subjects yet again and also being rude af about it.

I’m not tagging op because I don’t wanna add to what is already probably a very annoying shit show for them but I will be throwing my hat in the ring cause I’m upset

“American” is a societal culture not a race or ethnicity, and to say it’s white by default is racist and oppressive to the minority’s who literally built this country, define most of its pop culture, and had the land stolen from them

As a minority, specifically Indigenous(Athabaskan), I can tell you first hand how dangerous/dehumanizing it is to be miss represented. I can tell you or I can just point to the example that is the fact that there’s a literal fucken hero called “Native” in the gd show/manga. Representation matters, doing it right matters a lot fucken more.

“Google it” is not a good enough answer for something as complex as representing a whole group of people, think about your own culture and what “popular” traditions or whatever Google would pull up? Yeah not a great route to take.

Bnha is an original international pop culture success not a retailing of a traditional story, it’s set in the future in a different kind of society than anything current(although lot of relatable issues) it would change nothing of the story to give the setting a different name, Horikoshi could have made up a name instead and the super hero world would have kept turning just fine. so it’s not erasing anything for a fanfic writer to stay in their lane and write about a way of life they are familiar with

If you’re a minor you are not allowed to say shit or fuck all about nsfw blogs, that’s not a space you should be in nor is it a topic you could fully understand. Number one reason for that being the danger of policing art in the first place, tumblr almost died because of that exact reason and we lost a lot of legacy posts to that purge because of the if they come for one they’ll come for all rule

If you haven’t said shit or fuck all about Native before reading this you aren’t allowed to say shit or fuck all about who or what is racist because you still have some shit to work on, if you hadn’t even noticed before it was pointed out than your anti racist rhetoric has all been performative, you aren’t walking the talk and need to sit tf down

[tbonechessor]

I kinda had a freak out over it earlier but seriously space sweepers is good.

More in that "simple thing done really well" kind of way than anything.

Nothing really crazy or new as far as sci fi Dystopias go but it doesn't matter because it executes those things pretty well with a great degree of flare, heart and soul.

The characters are the Engine that makes the whole thing really really work. I mean goddamn. Like really goddamn. They are just kind of amazing. Flawed, quirky, motivated, its just kind of perfect how they all work.

You never want to have a found family be too buddy-buddy right out the gate or their relationship has no where to really go. You also can't have their entire thing just be co-workers who lightly jeer and trade one liners back and forth lest you give yourself the MCU avengers problem of not having them actually HAVE a relationship.

There is an immaculately perfect balance that Space Sweepers achieves in this regard.

There's enough tension between them as people with conflicting personalities to make friction while still managing to make it clear their relationship is developing into that of a real family.

It also made me really care about the kid character which is normally really hard to do for me cuz normally kid characters in sci fi just kind of suck.

The diversity in this movie is crazy. I mean like it really feels that this is a world that is... like a reflection of a future shared by ALL of humanity rather than just America or something. It's even used to further some of the social commentary present in the film. Not overtly but noticeably. The Myriad of languages and people that occupy this world's space just make it feel... alive and meaningful. Idek how to put it but its really cool.

The Pacing is very quick but surprisingly tight. Normally I'm not crazy about modern fast-paced stuff in the way it tries to be gif-able and trailer-friendly but it managed to work it out pretty well.

The plot is very pulpy and cheesy, but again, really tight. I always prefer a simple plot done well that answers its dramatic questions, fulfills their narrative premises, and rounds out its thematic ideas in a general, but complete way. Rather than ones that do one or two things excellent but flop on everything else.

The villain is pretty stock standard. Though they do make him work well enough as a cog in the machine of the story. He's not that interesting really, but he doesn't have to be. Richard Armitage definitely elevated whatever that character was lol.

The dialogue is kind of clunky on the English side but honestly its a minor hiccup.

The movie also really likes to exposition things to you directly ALOT, normally I think that drags things down in a story and wastes time but they do it with enough style and grace that it somehow manages to actually work. It also assumes you've been paying attention and respects your time/intelligence by not doubling down later on and just giving you the payoff for the backstory right away when it becomes relevant. Which is a frugal, but effective way of getting all the story in one go.

Hey guys? Go watch this fucken movie lmao

[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 7, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Protection.

Notes: idk when i started writing smut so willy nilly but here it is, another fuckening. Pretty big warning though: dubious consent. It’s clearly consensual later on but at first there is no given consent. WC: 6.8k

+

He had yet to leave your side, taking you with him in every which direction as he, in his own words, marketed himself. It was a process that consisted of being charming and making witty jokes; simple things that had people trusting him. You stood mostly silent beside him, wringing your hands, stuck in distant thoughts. If anyone referred to you, you didn't notice.

They did, though––but if anyone asked about you, Ahk would make up a quick explanation, one he knew you wouldn't mind.

Your silence was originally your constant state, traipsing about the palace with a chain keeping you at Ahk's side. Over the short course of time between Amun first awakening and coming to stay with the Persian nomads, he had already grown used to your laughing, the snide comments always on your razor-sharp tongue, and that lively spark that filled your eyes whenever your heart thumped in your chest.

"You're quiet," he murmured as the two of you walked. You gripped reins in your hand, keeping your camel with all your bags beside you.

"I don't... like travelling with people," you said through gritted teeth, side-eyeing a group of whispering friends to your left.

"It's safer, isn't it?"

"For you," you mumbled bitterly.

"Oh, you're above joining in a caravan?" He said with a teasing lilt.

"I am simply experienced in this," you said, sure to speak under your breath, "and I know how to take care of myself."

Due to the size and needs of a caravan such as Mahud's, you would need to stop thrice a day, each time setting up a little bit of a home at the riverside. Inbetween those breaks, your legs ached with a familiar burn. Long walks had been your staple for a long while. Though your long break from the lifestyle had left you a little out of shape, your previous experience allowed you to navigate your way back in without too much trouble.

Ahk was taking the physical exertion overall well, despite his aching hunger. The stops would allow him to eat, a fact he was very happy to learn, going by the massive grin on his face when you pointed it out. At a few points he was partial to complaining, but always ceased if you glared at him.

The next stop for the slow-moving caravan was by an outcropping stream flowing from the Nile and out into the desert, allowing a small oasis to grow further from the river itself. Although there appeared to be no fruits growing on the tall trees, a few men and women took up nets and spears, wading out into the water to look for fish.

Numbness filled up your legs as you collapsed on the ground, leant against your camel who had also drawn to its' knees. Heat had already pooled in your face and in your feet, burning from the long day, and ready for anything to drink.

"Here," Ahk said as he rounded a bush, kneeling beside you in your shady, isolated spot.

He handed a cup to you, filled with hot tea. Not the most satisfying drink, but it was safest, and you dutifully sipped away. As you watched the other travellers Ahk shifted his position, scooting nearer to you and pressing himself to your side. Instantly his heat began to overcrowd your senses.

"Ahk, it's too hot for me to be touching anyone," you said, shifting away with your back to him.

You probably should've expected him to pull you into him and keep you there, which made you feel all the more foolish when he did it anyway and you didn't expect it at all.

"Ahk..." you whined, half suffocated by his arms wrapping tight round your chest, his face buried in the back of your neck.

"Mmm," he hummed as he took all of you in, nuzzling you with his nose. "I am... tired."

"I'd be astounded if you weren't, but you can't sleep. It's still day and we won't stay here long," you said matter-of-factly, pushing his face away from you.

"I'll just keep you here," he decided, his voice muffled through the fabric of your shirt. "Sleep forever."

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes.

You wormed out the moment he loosened his grip, much to his disappointment.

By nightfall the distant murmurs of a city sounded from ahead, blurred with singing crickets and the steady flow of the Nile beside you. Ahk had spent the rest of the day trying to cheer you up, mostly with bad jokes, but the sentiment was nonetheless there. Still, being surrounded by people for the past fourty-six hours had already taken its' toll. You hardly spoke, your chest felt caved in on itself, and your eyes were trained on the ground below you.

The city ahead, while heralding certainly crowded streets and filled taverns, would suffice as a hospice away from people who had come to learn your name. Whispering in your ear, Ahk informed you this was the city Piye had wanted the two of you to stay at for a little while. If things got worse, you'd move further south, and if they got better, you would return north down the nile.

While at first you tried to sneak away without Mahud noticing, Ahk insisted on giving the man a proper good-bye, and backed this up with the fact that you had been lent a camel. You wouldn't be able to take it with, but it was still a nice consideration for the trip to Aswan.

"We'll be stopping here," Ahk said once Mahud's attention was on the two of you. "We're to meet a friend soon."

"Ah, then I wish you safe travels," said Mahud, patting Ahk on the shoulder with a firm hand.

"Thank you. To you and your family as well. Will you be staying here tonight?" Ahk asked as he gestured to the outer markets of the city, filled with traders who came from far away to make their living, and couldn't afford a roof over their heads.

"I believe so. Tomorrow we make our money and head off again."

"Good luck to you then," Ahk said, silently urging you to say your own farewell.

"Good-bye," you said quietly, bowing your head respectfully.

As you entered the outer rim of the city, the first thing you noticed was the quiet. It wasn't all that late––the sun had set only a little while ago, and it always did that much earlier in the day during the colder months. So you kept your footsteps quiet, instructing Ahk to do the same when he didn't pick up on the eerie silence.

With no one around to direct you every which way, you had to rely off what memory you had of Aswan, as little as it was. You had visited several times, but never for very long. Most of the city was still unexplored to you.

The long light of burning torches cast itself upon the street in front of you, approaching from around the house to your right. Instantly you were darting for cover, hiding the whole of your body behind a large barrel, while you watched Ahk look around the corner.

"Ahk, you fucking idiot, get over here," you hissed, the pounding in your heart begging him to listen to you.

He looked over his shoulder, finding you mostly-hidden, and quickly made to do the same. His spot was on the opposite side of the street, guarded by a practical wall of broken-down stalls. Once Ahk was fully secured you slipped back behind the barrel, calming your quickened breath as footsteps passed you by, numbering somewhere in the tens.

Only when you were fully assured that whoever passed you was not coming back, you joined Ahk in the middle of the road and continued onwards.

"Did you get a look at them?" You asked immediately.

"Yes, but... I'm not sure if I actually saw what I saw," he said, his brow furrowed intensely.

"What does that mean?"

"They had these.. heads on them, feathered and beaked, with massive eyes. Fucking jacked, too," he muttered, pausing to check both ways before crossing the next street.

"Like your Gods?" You asked.

"Like Horus," he said with a nod. "What on Earth are they here for?"

"Just guessing right now, but they might have something to do with you."

He took your hand, and after a long while of searching the streets, you found yourself at the step of a tavern whose lights had long gone out. Again, strange; neither of you remarked upon it, but you did turn to each other with dubious eyes. The smell of mead still came from it, not yet soured or rotten.

Ahk took a cautious step forward, reaching for the door and easily pushing it open. Inside there was the expected darkness, surrounding the knocked-down chairs, broken tables, and spilt beer. Both of you stopped, your shadows stretching before you on the wooden floor as you scanned the whole of the abandoned room. The bar, where you were sure there was once an attendant, was left unmanned and covered in shattered cups, sticky with sweetened alcohol.

The door behind you swung shut, making you whip around. Fortunately it was only Ahk letting go of the door, leaving it to join you nearer to the center of the room, where you could try and peer over the counter.

"Um..." you said.

"Good evening," said a voice, accompanied soon by a man popping out from behind the bar. "How may I help you?"

"Uhhh.. what... what, uh, happened here?" Ahk asked, his expression contorted as he glanced around the room.

"Nasty Egyptian soldiers. They've wrecked up the place, and every time I fix it they come back in and ruin it, so I stopped fixing it. The party's upstairs, if that's what you're after," he said with a too-bright grin on his face.

"Really? And they don't notice that you're up there?"

"Well, they are bird brains," the man said as he leant in, though spoke in a much quieter voice.

"Wait, are they the soldiers with the bird heads on them?" Ahk asked as a revelation came to him.

"Yes, sir. Where've you been?"

"Travelling for the last couple days. How long have they been here?"

"About a week or so now," said the man, looking away as he recalled. "Heard they're crawling all over the other cities, too. So you folks want a room?"

"... sure," you said in a quiet, low voice when Ahk failed to answer.

He handed you a wooden coin with a symbol engraved with fire, informing you that the door with the same symbol was yours. There were no locks and he made sure to tell you that, as well. After offering to carry your bags and earning a 'no,' from you, he pointed you up the stairs, and returned to his spot hidden beneath the bar.

"Odd man," Ahk whispered to you as you climbed the steps.

"Ahk!" You scolded, hitting his shoulder. "We're still in earshot."

How the Horus soldiers hadn't managed to find this place was beyond either of you, as the moment you entered the upper floor you were bombarded with the tunes of dancing music, twirling and playing with the veins of each listener. The thick scent of searing meat filled the whole of the room, rivalled only by the scent of sloshed beer. Most of the food and drink came from a single corner, where a large cask of beer had been set up alongside a furnace, where the one manning the food also managed the distribution of drink.

All around you, people sat and stood, dancing in the middle or resting on the sidelines. Every crate and usable chair was taken up, most people taking seats on the floor instead in great groups of public conversation. You instinctively grew closer to Ahk, trying to keep as far away from others as you could, even as he began to wade through the crowd.

"Hey, don't you think it's a little loud in here? Won't the soldiers find us?" Ahk asked a random stranger, who had happened to stand as the two of you passed her by.

"Egyptian soldiers are hardly valued for their intelligence, young man," she said with a knowing chuckle, before continuing on to the bar.

"Told you," you murmured in his ear as you watched her disappear in the crowd.

"Oh, shut up."

After setting away your bags and manually jamming the door, you rejoined the party on the second floor, partaking in what food and drink you could afford. Piye had given you a good deal of money, but you had no way of knowing how many days or months you would have to stretch that amount across. It was better to keep a good eye on your finances, something Ahk didn't know much about, and left in your capable hands. Though, that hardly stopped him from complaining.

"We got more food when we were staying with Mahud," he whined, his cheek squished against your shoulder.

"That's because it didn't cost any money," you said.

"You are a cruel lover."

"I am, but this has nothing to do with that since we are not lovers."

"We're not?"

"No," you stated, leaning your head back against the wall with closed eyes. "We are, at best, accomplices."

There was no ignoring the sudden change in his energy. He grew quiet, as he so rarely did, and hardly moved to breathe.

As he sulked, you took care to remind yourself of what he was capable of––the strange things he'd said to you, even if they weren't entirely harmful, that had set you in a month-long mood of unease.

"You will stay here. Any attempt on your behalf to leave and I will have to punish you. Understand?"

"Then I am a prisoner," you said, your voice hoarse and broken.

"You are what you make yourself," he said in a much more stern tone, looking down at you with knowing, wary eyes. "If it is a prisoner, then so be it. But you will be, throughout all actions and situations, mine."

"I..."

"You belong to me."

He had not relented in his usage of that claim. In times of peace, in political unrest, he had kept you with him. In times of great bounty, of danger and uncertainty, you had not left him once, and you wondered how sick you would've gotten if you were to go back in time and tell your freshly-met self that you would spend the longer half of a year with him.

You supposed that, in the end, you had joined his collection. The only catch was that it cost him everything else in his ownership, including his kingdom. And yet he seemed perfectly content to lean on your side, even if harsh words came before the silence, and to wait till you returned his affections.

As he touched your shoulder, his muscles went lax, letting him fall limp against you. The moment he intook your scent he was gone, hypnotized by his own adoration for you.

Though your mind fell into a quiet stupor, dancers still circled the room in beat with music. For a moment you wondered how they'd react if they found out the Pharaoh was in their midst.

Aswan was a very Egyptian-type city considering it was still within the borders of Nubia. That meant less worker camps, less fear of Egyptian soldiers, and less knowledge on the impact the Pharaoh stressed upon higher up Nubian cities. Keeping that in mind, you assumed they would try to cozy up to him––spend some of his riches, flirt a little––however it was also possible they worshipped Amun and had already heard of Ahk's treason.

Music began to fade from your mind as the faint sound of footsteps sounded from below you, seeping through the cracks in the mud and wood. They appeared more succinctly the closer you listened, and soon you could identify the number, all marching in unison.

"Ahk," you shook him awake, eyes trained intensely on the floor, "we need to get out of here."

"What?" His sleepy face gave way for concern. "What? What's happening?"

"There's soldiers coming," you said, your grip on his arm tightening.

"Well – the man at the front said they come by every now and then. They haven't found the upstairs yet, they probably won't now," he said.

Muffled voices muttered from below the floor. Ahk opened his mouth to speak again, but you quickly silenced him with your hand, carefully tuning back into the conversation beneath you. A loud crash was followed by silence, and that combination had you jumping to your feet.

"What is it?" Ahk asked, much more panicked now that he noticed your own fear.

"They're coming upstairs," you said as you backed up through the crowd, disturbing those you bumped into.

"They're – oh fuck." Ahk's expression dropped. "The soldiers are coming!"

Ahk yelled his warning over the music, certainly loud enough to assure the soldiers that there were, in fact, people up here. Lutes and harps stuttered to a halt, the pounding of footsteps now clear through the walls.

Panic seized the partygoers. People trampled over one another reaching for their belongings casted aside, hurriedly adjusting them back onto their bodies and making for the windows. Like rats they climbed out, writhing over each other into a mass of fabric and limbs, followed eagerly by you and Ahk. Massive backpacks made it so you were the last out and the only two to see the soldiers yourselves.

The pounding door had you stuck in a trance, only able to back up towards the window. As it slammed open, you finally caught sight of the falcon-headed soldiers, their sharpened spears and sharper eyes, staring empty-minded at you as Ahk pulled you out the window.

"This way!" Came a voice from above you.

You and Ahk quickly looked up, finding a young woman offering you a hand from the rooftop. Ahk took no hesitation in grabbing it, allowing her to hoist him upwards. When he reached down to find your hand, he felt nothing, and panic struck his heart like a searing knife. He ducked his head down, watching the room upside down.

Muscled arms wrapped around your chest and face, blocking your mouth from making practically any sounds at all. The only sound you could make was from kicking your legs frantically.

He jumped back to his feet on the roof, spinning round to the woman who had helped him.

"I need a sword," he said in a rush, desperate eyes already begging.

"Um – ask Imar, I believe he has one," she said, pointing to the man who worked at the bar downstairs. Ahk thanked her in a rush and left.

"Imar!" He called as he jumped from one building's roof to another, approaching where most of the party-goers had gathered. "I need a sword, or a weapon of any sort. Crossbow even."

"I've got a sword, but I need it. There's a stock of axes over there. Don't know who they belong to, though, so take at your own discretion," he said. Ahk once more gave his thanks before running off.

The kink in your neck had only gotten worse the more you struggled, spiking pain down your spine and into your skull each time the soldier's golden bands pressed into the side of your neck. Your already travel-worn shoes were now nearly in shreds, pulling and pushing on the rough gravel roads, occasionally cutting the soles of your feet open. Thus far you had not been allowed to speak, one massive arm nearly cutting off your oxygen supply.

Although you couldn't tell for sure where they were dragging you, you assumed it was towards a temple, as the buildings around you slowly grew more complex and well-kept. A temple seemed a proper place where you could be thrown into whatever underworld Amun lived in.

Being a commodity fought over should've scared you more. There was a panic seizing your nerves, but you were numb to the surprise, instead saving your energy till you could outsmart the soldiers.

Squawking interrupted your harsh breathing, crying out from behind the falcon soldier. You opened your eyes to the dark of night, spying through the shadow-filled alleyway a running figure, followed by the heads of soldiers falling from the city's silhouette. It was then you recalled a very important fact––Amun and his soldiers might've been strong, but Ahk held within him a hunger unlike that of the starved. The hunger of the rich––of pigs and cannibals. A hunger that terrified you to your core.

The first soldier in your sight that emerged from the shadow of buildings soon stopped in its' tracks, tumbling down past its' own knees as the falcon head slipped off human shoulders. Your shocked eyes watched intently, darting upwards to see Ahk with a broad axe.

His blade came down on the last remaining soldier walking behind your captor, blood splurting from the veins and splattering on his face. Much of it landed on your foot, leaving a trail of red as you were dragged, legs still shakily kicking.

He held a finger up to his lips, hushing any muffled screams that might've come from you. Whatever he had planned, you let him do what he deemed necessary, and kept quiet to avoid the suspicion of the soldier restraining you. He raised his axe high above his head, as though he were to strike you down. Terror filled your eyes when the blade came screaming down, splitting the soldier's head in two before it could ever reach you, leaving no mark on you but the pouring blood of the falcon head. The grip on you loosened, and as you pushed yourself away the corpse fell to the ground.

Blood and nerves squelched as Ahk tore the weapon out of the skull, a horrible crack resonating in the empty street when the base of the skull finally split. He panted, droplets of blood falling into his open mouth as he turned to you, eyes frozen and wide.

"You alright?" He asked softly, in a tone so out of character from his current state.

"... yeah," you breathed out.

The axe clattered onto the ground, followed shortly by Ahk falling to his knees. From there he crawled the short distance to you, gently wrapping his arms around your middle, and pulling you into his lap. He buried himself in your neck, hid away in your warmth. The blood covering his midsection soaked through your shirt.

"Ahk, we need to leave, you know there's more of them," you said, though you did not cease in stroking his hair.

"I know," he mumbled, pressing himself tighter to you for a moment before releasing. "They didn't hurt you?"

"Nothing but bruises," you huffed. "Let's go."

You kept near the entrance to the tavern as Ahk wandered back inside, checking behind the counters and in the attic for any trace of the fleeing people. From the roof you could hear muttering, though you couldn't see anyone, and you could vaguely make out the words they were saying.

"Are you the one they're looking for?" A woman asked.

"I did anger an Egyptian god, yes," Ahk said with a curt nod.

"Imar!"

The man from the downstairs bar appeared from over the horizon of another tall rooftop. He was drenched in sweat, practically glowing in the dim moonlight.

"Yes?"

"These are the ones they want," she said, gesturing to Ahk.

"Really?" He said as he dusted his hands off. "The hell did you do?"

"I, um, attacked a God in order to save my.. um... Amoke," he answered rather sheepishly.

"You cannot stay here," Imar said firmly.

"I'm sorry, but we have many other people looking for protection. We will not risk them for two people who have private business with whatever kind of God you worship," the woman said.

"I understand. Keep safe. Do you have any ideas on where we could go for the night?"

"Try the old graves up on the hill. They hate desecrating the dead," she said before sending Ahk back off down the stairs.

Footsteps drummed for a moment before the door swung open, revealing the Pharaoh still covered in blood. By now it had dried, leaving much of it to flake off his clothes and skin, now a muddy brown instead of the vibrant red of before.

"Have you ever slept in a grave before?"

"What?"

You had expected him to ask, considering what you heard of the conversation, but you weren't wholly convinced he would actually allow himself to sleep in a tomb.

"A long while ago, I died for a little while. Well, I guess not that long ago. Two or three years. My brother killed me," he began as he started off down the steps, taking you with him as he directed you through the streets, "and I was buried. Piye returned from their banishment shortly after and dug me out of my grave... used their gift to give me life once more."

"... you're really expecting me to believe that?" You asked, almost ready to burst out laughing.

"You saw Amun come to life. There are flowers growing out of your arms. What part of my story is unbelievable to you?"

"Right," you mumbled. "Good point. So... did you sleep in that grave or something?"

"It's complicated, but I was conscious for some time, locked underground. Not Piye's magic. Khonsu's, I believe. Either way, it's not horrid if you have someone with you," he said, patting you on the back with a smile.

"Did you have someone with you?"

His expression fell, the hand on your shoulder going with it.

"I did," he said softly, offering no more than a bittersweet twitch of his smile.

Ahk caught it before you did––the trampling of numbered footsteps, growing steadily louder the closer you came to the upcoming street. You remained within your own thoughts, plagued by questions, and mostly ignorant to the slowing of his pace. Eventually he had to grab your hand, forcing you to hide behind the shadow of a tall building. You opened your mouth to say something, but he set his hand over your mouth, staring at you with an intensity that had terrified you only a little while earlier.

"They're coming," he mouthed in your ear, breath barely passing his lips as he spoke.

Steps grew louder and he pressed himself against you, squishing you to the wall with his chin on your shoulder. Pressure tightened around your chest, constricted your breathing, hastened the beat of your heart as you relied solely on your hearing.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The clattering of armor, weapons, and shields rang through the marching steps, sending the imagery of shining, sharpened stone and arrows glinting in the moonlight.

"We need to go," he said beneath his breath.

Before you could ask what he meant, his hand encircled your wrist once more, pulling and forcing you down the other side of the alley. Chirps and squawks came from behind, making your pulse rush and swell beneath your skin. They would find you––bird brains though they were, they were still soldiers of a God, with eyes adapted for darkness. They would pull you into their hell and murder your... your Ahk.

Your Ahk.

You arrived back in your body when Ahk turned into an open, empty street, running uphill as he trained his sights on the tomb-filled mountains.

"We're not actually going to stay in a grave, are we?!" You asked as you ran, trying desperately to keep up with the long strides of the former Pharaoh.

"It is our safest bet," he said, tightening his grip on you. You still attempted to squirm out, however fruitless your struggle, and the proceeding panic had you soaked entirely in fear.

He kept you running till your legs burned, till he was fumbling over his own steps, too full of adrenaline to fully control his feet. Pebbles, rocks, and dust filled your sandals, scratching at your skin as it clung to your sweat. Your throat was still too tight to take in enough breath, leaving you part-way wheezing. Soon your own legs began to give way, scraping your knees and palms across rough dirt.

"Come, up," Ahk muttered as he helped you back to your feet, casting wary glances towards the city still ringing with the cries of falcons.

A few more minutes of scrambling up unused paths and you came to the foot of the hill, where the first graves had been set up. The long tunnels led into darkness, to a place you had never been before, where death would paint every wall. Few things in life truly terrified you––death was not among them, but the cruel afterlife of the Egyptians did. The tales you'd heard of the spells necessary to memorize, the weapons, the escorts, the protective magic one needed to have to brave what they called Duat had done that to you.

He didn't take to the first grave you saw, whose door was sealed shut from the outside with rope and wood. In fact he took you past halfway up the hills till he finally found a hole in which to hide, shoving you into the overwhelming darkness, and shutting the door partway.

All that you could hear was the trembling of your own breath, echoing in the empty, dank chamber. Despite the chilling cold the ground beneath you seemed wet, as though it had rained within the earth.

Clicking came from somewhere in front of you. Instinctively you pressed yourself against the wall, surprised to find not a cave wall but a carved granite wall. A flame burst before you as you realized this, revealing the whole of the cave, each wall covered in paintings of life and magic. Hieroglyphs lined every scene, rivalled only by the collection of yellow and white stars painted onto the lapis ceiling.

Your eyes scanned the walls around you and the ceiling, wandering down the pillars and towards the dirt floor. Across from you, Ahk leant his back against the wall, a flicker of light dancing on cloth ripped from his skirt. Now the material covered only the upper half of his thighs, leaving little to your imagination as he drew nearer to you.

"I'm afraid Nubian graves don't quite compare to the luxury of Egyptian graves," he said, setting his hand on your knee and running it up your thigh.

"When will we leave?"

"When our hunger becomes too great."

Ahk might've had good impulse control and lots of self control, but you did not.

"That'll be in days!"

"You're not very patient, are you?"

"Not when I'm stuck in a fucking tomb!"

"Screaming won't do you any favors, Amoke," he reminded you with a quirk of his brow.

Though you hardly had the consciousness of mind to recognize what he was doing, his hands had set to separating your legs, wedging himself inbetween them instead.

"I don't think the volume of my voice has anything to do with our predicament," you said scathingly, crossing your arms and turning away.

"Well, no, but you will hurt your voice. And my ears. This is a small room."

He had a point, but you were adamant in your decision to avoid his gaze. So instead you looked to the floor, your arms still crossed, and a small pout on your lip. Your eyes widened as you felt warmth on your neck, soft and somewhat wet. Ahk was kissing at your neck, one hand dangerously high on the inside of your thigh and the other squeezing your waist, in the middle of a tomb.

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked, beginning to worm in his grasp. The curt movements soon turned to struggle, your heart racing as he simply held you tighter, biting harsher at your neck.

"I could've lost you so easily today," he said softly between the ministrations of his lips.

"Amun almost kidnapped me, too, and you didn't act l –" he bit down and you gasped, "like this."

He simply chuckled and continued.

"I wanted to," he admitted after a moment. "He had no right to do anything to you. I've already lay claim."

"What?"

"You're mine. I found you first." Motions began to grow rougher, hands tightening on you as kisses became hurried and desperate. "My beautiful little toy... I won't let you go, never."

"Ahk, we're in a grave," you said, attempting to pull his hands off you.

In one swoop his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head. The weight of his body still rested between your legs, keeping them apart, and allowing him access to push and grinded himself against you. His strained breathing kept your shuffling feet company, a distraction from the heat welling in your stomach.

"Ahk..."

"You are a most beautiful sight," he murmured against your flushed skin. "Truly fit to be a god yourself."

The fear rushing through your blood was one unfortunately familiar––that same fear when you first met him. When he tied you to his bed for hours. When he stood above you with angered eyes, scanning the whole of your over-exposed body.

"This isn –"

"You told me you didn't love me... do you remember that?"

"... yes," you said, still unable to meet his eyes even as he pulled away to look you in the face.

"Then I suppose I have nothing to lose," he murmured, leaning into gift the softest of kisses, barely gracing the bow of your lip, "as all I want in this realm is your love."

"And what of your kingdom?"

"My kingdom is my duty. I do not enjoy ruling, but it is something I must do for the safety of families who now rely on a government to protect them. You, however..." he trailed off for a moment, biting into his bottom lip with a grin, "... you I enjoy very much."

A quick kiss to your lips and he resumed what he started, letting your entwined hands fall in favor of feeling you. His touch slipped up your shirt, feeling the heat of your skin until it grew too much to bear, and he began untying the knots of your clothes. Once he pulled the fabric off your shoulders, he leant back to pull his own coat off. The space gave you ample time to wriggle out of his weakened grasp, though you barely raised to your feet before he grabbed your ankle, pulling you back down and scuffing you in the process.

You turned onto your back, watching with heavy, quickened breaths as he pulled you to him till your hips met, hands and piercing eyes pinning you into place. For a split second an image flashed before your eyes––rope in his hand, silk beneath you, and a servant watching it happen. You shook your head to clear it away, opening your eyes in time to see him lay you flat on the earth.

"I love you," he murmured with a reverence so deep you could swear there were tears welling in his eyes. The hands on your hips slowly ran up your waist and over your chest, squeezing and teasing your senses. "Beautiful..."

He dipped down, like a hand of God descending from heaven to grasp the unholy that sits beneath. Kisses landed on your sternum, trailing up towards your neck, where his nipping teeth had already left dark marks. Unsure what to do with yourself, you let your hands sit above your head and allowed him to do as he pleased.

"I have waited forever to indulge in you," he said, the heat of his words beneath your jaw.

Your eyes flew open.

Haji warned you about this––or maybe it was Naguib, but he didn't seem to like you all that much. Either way, you recalled a spare bit of information given to you concerning the Pharaoh; he might've originally locked you in the castle to have his heirs. Was this what he was doing? Giving into what he'd first taken you for?

"Will you give me this?" He asked, inches away from your face, your leg kinked up upon his hip.

"What?"

"The easiest form of love," he said through a crack in his voice. From here you could clearly see what you'd spied earlier––tears. "I cannot seem to win your personal love. But I will take anything you give me, and I want this."

"... what?"

He ground his hips into yours, till you could clearly and distinctly feel something hard pressing against you. A soft groan fell from him. Part of you already knew what he meant, but another part was still stunned into stupidity, your wide eyes nothing but empty.

"I need you," he murmured.

Even with all the thoughts in your head, you couldn't manage a single word. Your mouth hung open, gasping when stimulated, but mostly silent with your own confusion. There was an appeal to Ahkmenrah––his beauty, his intelligence, his humor. Quite the array of good traits even without the fact that he held massive amounts of power, or did at one point. Yet you still couldn't let go of what you'd seen him do. It loomed over you like an eclipse, blocking your thoughts and stilling your mind in its' presence.

He didn't have the strength within him to stop himself. He would need your ardent refusal, even though he knew silence was a quiet no, to regain his control. It was a funny thing, seeing him so desperate––a man as composed as him, as aware of himself as him would be remiss to be such a shameful sight.

And it was you.

You driving a Pharaoh to his knees. You taking a man whose very essence was his control over his identity and tearing his image apart. Making him a devil in his people's eyes. You weren't even asking him to ruin himself, to take himself apart just to appeal to you even in the slightest––he was doing that himself. Willingly.

Your chest felt concave upon itself as he continued, numb to the realizations in your head. He pulled off your skirt, the ties in your clothes, till both of you were nude, him still locking your body to the ground. From this angle he could thrust against you, almost fucking your thighs as your wetness grew. Gasps and moans built in your mouth despite your efforts to keep an even expression. He delighted in your own embarrassment, laughing when you squirmed with your eyes shut tight and a hot blush on your face.

"Gods, you are... perfect," he said, devolving into a long, soft moan as the head of his cock began to prod at your entrance.

A rush of excitement––or perhaps just the simpler anticipation––ran through you, and you couldn't stop the sounds that left you as he pushed in. He stretched you, filled you perfectly, and for a moment you wondered if you had been denying yourself a taste of bliss. 

As he kissed you, bitter iron filled your mouth and painted your tongue. At first you wondered if he had bitten too hard (or if you had), but in a short time you realized it was the dried blood, still caked onto his face and body.

Blood passing between your lips. Mingling with your breaths and moans. It became hard to distract yourself with the forceful thrusts of the Pharaoh above you, your mind instead set fierce upon your sense of taste, and the watchful, hooded eyes Ahk looked down on you with.

He soon noticed your sudden daze, and his thrusts slowed down, going deep instead of fast.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, though he didn't stop his movements entirely.

Your wetness squelched slightly, making you shut your eyes tight with embarrassment, your arms coming to hide your face from sight. Of course, Ahk was having none of that––he took your arms, carefully pinning them to either side of your head.

"A little shy, are you?"

"... this is my first time," you finally mumbled, turning away so you wouldn't have to see his reaction.

"Oh."

He stopped grinding into you. But you couldn't help yourself––you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him back into you and moaning when he was fully sheathed.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes rolling up into his head. "Perfect little pet."

He pinned you to the floor as he finished, keeping you from scrambling away. There he kept you, warm on his cock, filling you with his seed as you whined helplessly.

Although he made an effort to take care of you, gently stroking your skin and kissing away what marks he made, the whole of the day left you both exhausted, and the bout of 'exercise' certainly hadn't helped. In the end you asked him to stop worrying and simply sleep at your side; he acquiesced, using his arm as a pillow as he faced you.

"Still hate me?" He asked, and though they would've been teasing words out of anyone else's mouth, you found sincerity in his expectant eyes.

"No."

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hello! I just saw your post about how ppl wearing/displaying their flag if they’re American/Australian/English probably means they’re a racist and I 100% agree. I really appreciate your takes, so I wanted to get your opinion on how this applies to a country like Wales where the legacy is different? Do you still think these implications would apply, or how might they be change?

Ooh, good question! I'm slightly Christmas Drunk answering so let's find out together how coherent this is.

So the big thing with what I'm going to call "flag culture" for the purposes of this conversation (the social application of Your Flag TM to clothing, products, or general display) is that the flag itself obviously means nothing - it's just colours and shapes, even if you're Welsh and lucky and one of those shapes is a fucken sick dragon. But a flag is a symbol, and that's the crux of the issue.

What is it symbolising?

And, therefore, why are you choosing to display that symbol?

In fact, I don't automatically think it's a Bad Thing, per se. I think nationality is not actually a bad thing inherently. Human beings are social. We're designed to live socially, and communally, and to be enriched by shared experiences. On a large scale, that's what culture is, really, when you get right down to it - the official definition might be "a shared set of norms and values", but in real terms it's "do we have this shit in common?" And nationality is just a big version of that. It gives people a sense of belonging, and community, and therefore safety, because we're hard-wired to want that.

Flag culture is an extention of that. It's an expression of community, and belonging. So far, so benign.

Here's the problem: what is the community? What actually is the shared culture of that community? What is being celebrated? Why are the adherents celebrating it?

In the case of that particular post, we were talking about how seeing Americans plastering the US flag about is a sure-fire sign of a racist, and ditto Australia and England/Britain. I'm none of those, really, but I can make a claim to being British I guess, if not English, so that's the one I'm going to zero in on here.

Britain suffers from a lack of clear culture of its own, because England conquered almost the entire world and took whichever parts it wanted. When the dust settled, not only did they have a sort of jigsaw of cultural things that were blatantly taken from elsewhere, but they'd also spread even that about so it was no longer unique to them. Mainstream English culture has very little now to hold up as their own. In Wales, I can gleefully talk about the Mari Lwyd, and Eisteddfods, and calennig, and the Mabinogi, and the Royal Welsh Show, and a whole bunch of other things. But England doesn't really have that, and they can't see Mainstream Western Culture as theirs or as special because... it's everywhere. They live in it. It's not unique to them. They can't show off about it, and they can't feel any sense of belonging and identity from it.

(Side note: the tragedy is that there's actually plenty they *could* use, that's English and Not Blatantly Stolen. Off the top of my head: Morris dancing, folklore like black dogs, football (without the cunts), customs like First Footing, Robin Hood, NOT FUCKING ARTHUR HE'S WELSH AND HE'S OURS HANDS OFF etc)

So, what do you fall back on instead?

Nothing good. "We conquered everyone!!! YEAH!!! ENG-GER-LAND, ENG-GER-LAND, ENG-GER-LAND!!!"

Community becomes about anything you can. "You look wrong. You have the wrong God. You dress the wrong way. You speak the wrong language. You don't belong in our gang."

And so, the racists! The flag becomes a symbol of both imperialist conquest AND thundering bastards with no personal hygiene.

But, if your country has its own visible and identifiable culture AND a history of being actively oppressed, then the sense of belonging, the urge to be a community, the need to have a shared culture and feeling of safety is a bit different.

Under those circumstances, plastering your flag on a shirt is not an act of oppression, or rejection. It's an act of defiance against an outside force that wants to erase you. "You want my culture to vanish? Not so fucking easy, sunshine, it is right here."

That is absolutely not to say that a small oppressed minority is incapable of using flag culture to be a big old pack of racists, nor that every use of large Western nations' flags is automatically racist, of course. We're talking about overall trends here, that's all.

Ha, okay, I reckon the difference could arguably be pared down to "This is who I am" vs "This is who you aren't". If I see someone wearing a dragon they're telling me who they are. If I see someone in a St George's Cross they're telling me that I don't belong, and also, that they have superiority.

Anyway I'm, like, eight Baileys deep, so I hope that made sense.