#its getting so fucking hot out and i have so many scars on my arm

[scarletcomet]

2 weeks clean from self-harm. 11 of those days i was in the hospital though

[lxnarphase]

BITCH, YOU KNOW I'M SEXY ᯓ★

━━ ❝ I'M NOT YOUR MOMMY, N★GGA! FIND A NEW HOBBY, N★GGA! ❞ wc. 5.4k

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : being toji's roommate, you finally snap after another night of not being able to sleep because of his damn late-night hookups. your house, your rules.

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...cw : blk!fem!reader x f. toji, frenemies to lovers, smut, face-sitting + pussy eating, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, dirty talk, playful arguing, hair pulling, size kink, begging, riding, unprotected sex (do not do this in real life omfg), dom-ish reader, sub-ish toji, lots of pet names, toji being an asshole, toji gets called a 'good boy' a few times

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's notes : toji toji toji, what am i going to do with you...anyways, this was super fun and i love these two so much and i need them to go out on a date properly at some point ! if you want to be tagged for the future posts, comment on the main post here ! enjoy baddies ❤︎

you love sleep. absolutely love and cherish it, even.

every night, you follow the routine you set for yourself without fail: hot shower, slipping into some comfy PJs, in-depth skincare, brushing your teeth, and then pulling your bonnet on.

nothing is better than slipping into bed, soft sheets feeling sooo good on your skin. yes, you absolutely love sleep.

except it seems that your roommate has no respect for your need for rest, considering how many times you've had to hear the high-pitched whining of women paired with the annoying thud of the headboard against the wall.

he better not damage the wall either, because he will be the one paying for it.

you both were...sort of friends, sure, but ever since you both graduated college, toji has been doing his best to get on your nerves. constantly picking on you, teasing you, or doing stupid shit that annoys the fuck out of you. especially whenever he leaves the fucking toilet seat up in the middle of the night.

and every time he hears you squeal late at night in the bathroom before shouting his name, he can't help but laugh.

eventually, it went from him just doing things to inconvenience or mess with you to this. and you were tired.

these nightly...activities of his need to be addressed because you are not letting a man of all things be the reason you can't sleep soundly at night. this is your apartment, after all!

it's a friday night and you just know you need to talk to him before you have to hear some woman fighting for her life of toji does...whatever he does that has all these women coming in and out of your apartment like it's a damn brothel...okay, well, it was the same two women, but still!

so that's how you find yourself, pounding on his door, sleepy, tired, and irritated in your hello kitty pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, ready to get in bed and actually sleep.

"fushiguro, open this damn door," you command, fluffy slipper tapping on the floor as you wait for him to open his door. after a minute, you hear a groan and the shuffling of sheets before the door swings open.

toji stands in the doorway, only in a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips with an eyebrow raised as he looks down at you. you don't care how hot he looks, you want nothing more than to wipe that look off his face, hating how smug he looks.

"whaddya want? 's she here already? told 'er not to come for another 2 hours," he mumbles, scratching at the scar on his lip. you're silent for a moment, processing what he just said. "who......no. nononono. absolutely not, tell whoever you are expecting she is not coming into my apartment."

crossing your arms, you fix him with a tough look. sure, you know you aren't the scariest thing, especially in hello kitty pants and puffy slippers, but it doesn't matter! he is going to respect your wishes or...or else!

"aww, what's wrong, doll? can't sleep," he teases, voice low and sinfully smooth as smirk finds its way onto his face. "guess ya should've invested in those headphone y'keep talkin' about so much. can't help that 'm just that good that the girlies can't keep their mouths shut."

having you in front of his bedroom door like this...it's so fucking adorable to him, you were just so cute and didn't have a single clue, did you? complaining that he and his little playthings were too loud and keeping you up was not what he expected. but, toji won't lie, he's genuinely surprised it took you so long to finally say something.

it seems his little comment struck a cord, his smirk getting bigger when your eyes get just a bit wider in disbelief. man, you were so fucking cute like this, all angry and huffy.

"okay, first of all, those headphones are NOT comfy to sleep with at night. and i'm not dropping almost $400 dollars on something so that i can accommodate for you," you argue, stepping forward and jabbing your finger into his stupidly big chest.

no, seriously, why were his pecs almost bigger than your tits?

"can you please just let me sleep for one night, or are you that sex deprived you can't go a single night without getting your dick wet?"

whatever this new side of you was, he liked it.

"aww, sounds like little princess s' mad no one's fuckin' her right. ya not gettin' fucked good, pipsqueak? haven't seen yer boy-toy around lately anyways.

"god, that's—that's none of your fucking business, fushiguro, shut up!"

"make me."

you blink.

a moment passes...and suddenly, your eyes are sharp.

ah...he might've fucked up with those two simple words.

"...you know what? i will, you annoying fuck."

catching toji off guard, you shove him back, taking advantage of him stumbling to walk inside his room as you slam the door shut behind you. a light chuckle escapes him, eyebrows raises. "so, the little kitten does have claws," he says with a grin.

his little roommate seems to have grown a pair of balls. what is she gonna do? hit him with pillows, curse him out, kick him out? pffft, if you kicked him out he would know you needed sleep, you both have been friends for too long...right?

as toji gets slightly worried he might've genuinely crossed a line (a bit too late to realize that, he realizes), you push him onto his bed, standing between his legs.

oh.

oh, he...he likes you from his angle, looking down at him with a little bit of a pout on those pretty full lips of yours as you try soooo hard to look angry and scary. but how can he be scared when his roommate, the one he's been fucking his hand for, looks so fucking cute?

curly hair a bit frizzy and messy (he's surprised you don't have your bonnet on yet), smelling like cocoa butter and that strawberry shortcake body spray that haunts him at night. and now you're in his fucking room. he'd never be able to escape it now.

fuck, every time you came close to him, he just suddenly couldn't process anything except you...he needed to get a grip.

propping himself up on his elbows, toji locks eyes with you, playing off his surprise. "what's gotten into ya, roomie? so aggressive, might have t' call shiu to come get you," he attempts to playfully poke. the tension in the room grows when you start to massage your temples, trying to calm down.

in.

out.

in.

out.

in-

"well, if lack of sleep is gettin' you all huffed up like this, i gotta couple o' ways t' tire ya out if y'need."

"oh my god, y'talk too fucking much," you grumble.

toji opens his mouth, ready to make another smart comment but he's shocked into silence when you tug your pajama pants off. there's no fucking way this is real. toji knows he has to be dreaming and knowing he'd be waking up with a wet spot in his pants if he didn't wake up soon.

and...are you wearing hello kitty boxer briefs too? god, you're such a fucking dork, it's cute and it's only making him harder in his pants.

but all of that is forgotten when you hook your fingers in the waistband of those stupid looking boxers and drag them down those pretty legs and toji gets a glimpse of your cute, pudgy tummy and...and....

fuck.

he doesn't even get a chance to think, he's so fucking hard. you're fucking half naked in his room right now and he can't tear his eyes away from how soft you look, that little patch of hair (is it shaped like a fucking heart? jesus fucking christ, you were serious about making yourself feel pretty everywhere), god, he's so fucked.

"shit. someone's eager. just couldn' wait to-"

"i'm so sick of you," you cut off, pushing him down onto the bed, crawling up his chest. you give him a look, one that he instantly understands and he smirks, giving you a nod before you continue moving until your hips hover over his face.

the smirk melts off his face when he realizes how real this is. your bare pussy is literally mere inches away from his mouth, so close he can practically taste you.

he's not gonna make it out of this alive, is he?

when you see him about to open his mouth to make another stupid comment, you move, pressing your hips down onto his face, shutting him up. "you wanna use your mouth so much, toj? i'll give you somethin' to use it on."

toji's response is just a muffled groan, his eyes fluttering a little. his hands move up to grip your thighs to steady you and also keep you on his face. he hasn't even tasted you, but shit, you smell so good.

wasting no more time, his tongue hungrily darts out, desperate to taste you. the moment he licks over your folds, he's sighing, melting into the bed. you're so soft, so sweet and he hasn't even gotten a taste from the main source. pulling you down onto his face a bit harder, toji finally swipes through your cunt and he's addicted.

"mmh, fuck," he grunts, burying his face as deep as possible. what the actual fuck are you made of, he thinks to himself. you taste so sweet, he's getting so dizzy as he starts to messily lap up all the slick dripping from your pussy. he barely pulls away from you to breathe, taking just a second to part, his hot breath fanning against the wet mess between your legs before he dives right back in, his low groans resonating against your core so nicely.

toji slurps loudly at your cunt, unable to stop himself from rolling his hips up, the friction of his sweats on his cock a sweet relief. he's so sure this is heaven, thanking whatever god there is for making you snap to this point but then you start talking.

you sigh, hips gently rocking against toji's face as your eyes open to look down your body at him. "mmn, 's better," you purr to yourself, little sweet noises of pleasure escaping you as one of your hands runs through his hair, giving him an encouraging little tug.

"should i just give you my pussy every night so you let me sleep, toj," you coo at him, a smug smile on your face. he didn't even notice his eyes slipped shut, but he opens them, flickering up to meet your lidded gaze and see the pride swirling around your eyes.

has his roommate always been like this? toji doesn't remember you being so fucking sexy like this. sure, you've always been attractive, and he's definitely had a thing for you for a while. but never in his life did he think his sweetheart of a friend would be smushing his face into her soft cunt.

his response is a little nod and an increase in his tongue's movements against your sloppy pussy. his lips move to suck right at your puffy clit, and he swears nearly cums when you gasp his name and whine, pulling him even deeper by his hair.

his train of thought is completely destroyed, he can't think of anything but you, can't feel anything but you, can't see, can't smell, can't taste anything but you.

he'd kill a man if it meant being able to taste you like this every fucking day.

"ohh, tojibaby, y'look s' pretty eating my pussy...poor thing, jus' needed something to shut you up for a bit."

scratch that, he'd kill SEVERAL men if it meant hearing you sing praises like that while you grind against his mouth, practically suffocating him with your thighs.

it's addicting, the way slick is gushing out of you each time he kisses your clit before sucking on it, coating his mouth. toji knows he looks a wreck, but he doesn't care, not when he's got you on him like this.

"d'you wanna make me cum, toj?" you ask it so teasingly, tugging his hair again and making him moan. "you're makin' out with my pussy...such a good boy for me."

those two words are his undoing, a visible shift in his energy. his eyes are sharp, and he almost looks angry as he grips your thighs even harder. "yes, fuck, yeah, mama, i wanna make you cum all over my face," he growls, tongue unrelenting when it slips back inside of your cunt, a nasty wet noise filling the air as you keen. he's fucking you with his tongue so messily, like he'll die if he stops tasting you.

good boy. you called him a good boy.

the compliment made something snap in him, the need to devour you whole the only thing on his mind. he's not just a good boy, no, he's your good boy, and the thought of being yours makes a thick bead of precum to drip out of his cock and stain his sweatpants.

he's brought back when you tug his head back to look at you, that thick tongue of his slipping out of you.

"i don't want you bringing anymore fucking women in my house, fushiguro," you warn, glaring down at him. you're serious. if you see another girl come in here at 11pm, you might actually kill this man in his sleep and not in a way he'd like

"i'm so tired of hearing their annoying moans. if you need a pussy to put your stupid dick in, just ask me, you fuckin' idiot." shit, you usually never talk like this, but toji likes this side of you. the usually sweet and kind roommate he was so used to was no where to be seen, replaced with this commanding and no-nonsense woman who knew what she wanted.

he can't even deny, this side of you is such a massive turn on.

"promise you're gonna let me fuckin' sleep n' i'll cum on your pretty mouth, fushiguro. otherwise, i'm getting up and i'll call shiu and see if he wants a taste."

oh, fuck no. no way in hell is toji letting that smug bastard see you like this, best friend or not.

he desperately nods, just wanting you to let go of his hair so he can dive back into your sweet pussy, licking his lips to taste you again.

"promise, mama, no more bringing other women, jus' you, don't need nobody else but you, y'got my word."

"that's my good boy."

once you let go of his hair, toji dives right back to the task at hand like man possessed. his lips press against your clit, kissing it with little wet smacks before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue doesn't give you a break, flicking over it rapidly. your moans, god, your moans are getting so loud and so pretty, his eyes never leaving your face as he watches you get closer and closer.

"c'mon, doll, please," he begs, a whininess in his voice as he massages your thick thighs, encouraging you to ride his face until you cream all over it. "give it t' me, give me what i wan', cum all over my face, baby girl."

feeling how you start to move your hips, a sweet little 't-toji, 'm gonna cum' falling from your lips, his hands grasp your ass as he seals his mouth over your cunt, sucking and licking desperately.

he needs it.

he needs you.

needs you so fucking bad.

feeling him mutter those words against your cunt makes you gasp and choke out his name, thighs squeezing around his head. "oh, fuck, toji, 'm cummin, baby!" your hands are both in his hair as you desperately hump against his mouth, body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

he doesn't stop, he keeps his mouth on you to make sure not a drop of your sweet cum goes to waste. he can feel it spilling out of his mouth, down his chin and neck. it's so messy, just how he likes it.

he watches you, how could he even think to take his eyes off you? you're so pretty, do you even realize how your hair got puffier and messier from your sweating, how a few of those tiny curls got stuck to your skin?

"g-god, fuck, toj, hoohmygod, your mouth 's so good, nngh!"

shit, you're pretty, so fucking pretty, what the fuck? god, you even cum pretty, toji's so fucked. why didn't he get you on his face like this sooner?

feeling your tremors start to subside, toji slows his tongue, switching to little licks and then to soft kisses against your clit, keeping you grounded as you come down from your high. the fact he didn't paint the inside of his sweatpants white is a miracle, but he knows the front is wet and stained.

when he feels you relax, toji guides you off his face and down to sit on his chest. he can't help the twinkle in his eye, grinning at you proudly. the bottom half of his face is a mess, covered in his spit and your slick. you like this look on him.

"has anyone ever told you that you've got t'most addicting pussy ever?"

you huff a laugh, urging him to move up further on the bed until his back rests against the pillows. he was so annoying, and you hated how attractive it made him. “you’re too awake for my liking," you sarcastically huff, giving him a sweet little pout that makes him feel a bit more things than he probably should.

tugging his sweatpants down, you let out a little noise of surprise.

ah.

it all makes sense now. no wonder those girls sounded like they were dying.

"toji, what the actual hell is wrong with you?!"

"don't get mad at me, ma, i didn't magically make my dick this size! i just got lucky!"

"lucky?! girl, this is a curse, how the fuck did those girls fit this thing in them?!"

"they didn't."

that makes you pause. they couldn't get him all the way inside? glancing down at his cock, heavy in your hand, as he helps to get his pants completely off, you're not surprised. but you could take it, right?

...guess you need to find out.

shifting your hips, you move to swipe his cock through your slick pussy, a smug look on your face when he sharply inhales. "i'm gettin' my revenge, pretty boy, for all the sleep you made me lose. 's late, anyways, yeah? don't we need to sleep soon?"

the head of his cock catches onto your entrance, causing you both to sigh in pleasure. this would be a stretch, but you're determined by pure spite from toji and those women keeping you up at night.

while you're teasing him, toji is a breath away from losing his mind. the sight of you taking charge, hair completely fluffy now from the humidity in the room, has his cock pulsing in your soft hand. he's so sure that you're not gonna be able to take it all in. shit, he's wondering if he should stop you, tell you he's gotta prep you first or else it's gonna hurt, but you use your free hand to grab his face, making him look at you as an evil grin breaks out on your face.

"i'm gonna put you t' sleep with my pussy. uhm, something something, call that pussy nyquil," you giggle, slipping the tip of his cock inside of your wet, tight little cunt.

melting, that's the best way toji can describe the feeling of behind inside you, even if it's just the tip. "jesus," he hisses, his hands coming up to grip your hips. you're so hot inside, your tight walls are so snug around him. there's no way this tight cunt of yours is gonna be able to fit him in, there's not fucking way.

despite that, he finds himself guiding you down onto him, trying his hardest not to buck up into you. but the sensation of your soft, gummy walls squeezing him so perfectly is making it so challenging to stay still.

"fuck, mama...shit," he groans, watching as he is sucked into your warm pussy. once you get halfway, he expects you to stop, and that's usually where they all do. he was fine with that, more than fine, because he's never been inside someone so fucking tight.

but then, you raise your hips until just the tip is inside, and with a devious little giggle, you slam your hips down, gasping when you get him in all the way. damn, you realize it was a stupid idea, the stretch making you feel almost sick, but the reaction you get out of toji is worth it.

his head falls back against the headboard, and he whimpers, eyes rolling back into his skull, his lip pulled between his teeth as he tries to relearn how to think.

“i'm gonna make you cum and ‘m gonna fuck you stupid for not letting me sleep, fushiguro.” giving yourself a bit to get used to his size, you slowly started moving, seeing what angle worked best for you.

meg the stallion, i'm gonna make you proud of me, you think with a little smirk before you steady yourself with your hands on his chest and start to bounce your hips, your cute little threat only making his cock throb inside you.

"'m gonna make you regret bein' an asshole to your pretty roommate, pretty boy."

it doesn't take long for it to get messy, for it to get so fucking sloppy and noisy. each time you bring your hips down, the room is filled with a wet smack. you've really made a mess out of him, your sticky wet coating his fat cock and his lap, thick strands of it connecting you to him with each raise of your hips before you bring them right back down.

toji can't breathe, finally tilting his head back up as his eyes are glued to where his cock slips in and out of you. you're taking him, taking all of him into your sticky cunt and, shit, he thinks he might die like this.

"fuck, fuck, mama, c'mon, don' do this t' me, relax, please, fuckin' strangling my cock, oh my god—"

he's whining, it's so cute. who knew you could get toji fushiguro, mr. tough guy, to crumble under you like this so easily? it's so wet and gushy, the sound of your thick body smacking back down on his only making his insides twist in pleasure. he can feel how fucking wet you are, dripping down his cock, down his balls, it's so unfair.

"tojiii, talk t' me," you coo at him, your sweet voice bringing him back. "don't tell me my pussy's making you dumb already, jus' started."

you did, you're literally fucking him dumb, and he doesn't know what to do or what to say, but hearing you say his name like that in-between moans as you bounce your hips up and down his throbbing shaft has his babbling in an instant.

"god, this cunt 's perfect, baby, s' fucking perfect."

“yeah? y’like my pussy, toj? like my pretty cunt creaming on you?” you roll your hips, a pretty moan leaving you when his tip nudges against that soft spot perfectly. “f-fuck, you really are big...poor thing, no one could get it in all the way? am, mh, am i the first t’ take this fat cock t’ the hilt, tojibaby?”

you lean forward, hands moving from his chest to around his neck as you roll your hips, swiveling them in ways that have him gushing precum all over the insides of your cunt. the squelches your cunt makes with each roll is so fucking sinful and so nasty.

"y-yeah, mama, she feels s' good around me, all tight and warm, milking my cock like it's made just for you."

god, you smell so good...he can still smell your perfume and the sweet blueberry scent of your leave-in. you smell so sweet and taste so sweet too, he's so fucking lucky to have you fucking him like this. toji's hands move from your hips to your ass, helping you fuck yourself on his dick, groaning your name.

"god, you're the first to take it all, y'got me so fucking deep in that sloppy lil' cunt that y'can feel me in your stomach."

you giggle between moans, pressing your forehead against his. "y'so cute, toji, such a good boy f' me, yeah? feels so much better knowin' you can just tell me if you need me to put you to sleep, right?"

he groans, nodding as his eyes flutter closed again. "y-yeah, yes, baby, feels s' much better," he admits, breathless as he starts to get close. he can feel you getting tighter, getting wetter, and he'll be damned if he cums before you do.

"aww, listen t' you," you say with a little whine, your dominant mask starting to ebb away as you start to grow weaker and weaker. it's starting to feel good, really good, to the point where you can't think either, and you don't know how much more of this you can do. "m-my pretty boy, my good boy, f-fuckin' me s...s-so good..."

the moment he picks up the whininess in your voice, toji is alert, looking into your eyes to find that the pleasure is finally catching up to you, too. "yeah? yeah, mama? she's feelin' good? fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' fill you up, baby, gotta cream this pretty pussy so deep that she feels it f' days," he grunts, mouth open as he pants against your lips.

they look so pretty, he wonders if you taste like that lip balm you always carry, if your tongue is as sweet as you are, if your plump lips are as soft as they look. the thought of them pressing against his is what breaks him, and he's so embarrassed at the noise he makes before leaning back against the pillows and planting his feet into the mattress.

"i gotta fuck you, gotta fuck you good, 'm sorry, 'm so sorry, baby, promise i'll let you sleep, promise i'll be good for ya, okay? mm, fuck, c'mon, let toji make it better, gonna kiss your cunt with my cock and make it up t' ya."

toji fucks into your hole desperately, groaning at the loud wet plaps of his hips smacking against yours. your moans, god, your moans, they're so pretty, you're so pretty. he can see your tits bouncing against the fabric of the shirt you have on, and he curses, so fucking mad he didn't have you take it off. but he doesn't care, not right now, not when he sees how gorgeous you look.

he's so fucking prideful when he sees how poofed out your hair is, bouncing with each thrust up into you. "y're so fucking pretty, c'mere."

one of his hands grabs you by the back of the head and smushes his lips against yours, hungry as he licks over them before shoving his stupidly thick tongue inside your mouth. the kiss is just as messy as the rest of you, and the pitiful little moan you give has him reeling.

"i-i'm, 'm gonna cum, toj," you whisper against his mouth, nails biting into his shoulders as you do your best to match his pace. you're gonna cum, he's gonna make you cum, you're about to cum all over his fucking dick, jesus christ.

"fuck, you're so hot, so cute, mama, my pretty girl. need ya t' cum, dolly, can y'do that for me? please, baby, cum on me, make a mess s' i can fill you up an' apologize like i promised," he rambles before kissing you again, biting your lip before running his tongue over it.

it's so close, you can taste it. it's so unfair how big his cock is, how you can feel every vein and throb of it inside of you, how you can feel his hot precum smudging all over your velvety walls.

the realization that he's inside you raw has you moaning so sweetly, and your pussy is gripping him for dear life as you dig your nails into his shoulders even more, head falling forward. "t-toji, 'm, 'm gonna—f-fuck!"

you're cumming, you're cumming on him, and it feels so fucking good. you're creaming all over his lap, and your crying and moaning his name so sweetly he feels like he's gonna pass out. "baby, babyyy, no, lemme see, lemme see you cum," he begs, the hand in your hair tilting your head back up and the view he gets has his hips stuttering inside you.

your eyes are unfocused, long lashes wet from tears as you pant and whimper for him, all for him. and when you make eye contact with him, he feels your gummy walls squeeze him so tight.

"oh, fuck, yes, mama, jus' like that. keep cummin' on me, keep goin', 'm so close, gonna cum, gonna cum in this pretty pussy s' fuckin' deep you feel it in your tummy," toji babbles before he's losing himself too, pressing your head against his chest as he fucks into you, savoring your overstimulated cries for him. "'s gonna go deep, so fuckin' deep an' i'm gonna fuckin' eat it outta you, just like y-you fuckin' deserve—!"

with a pathetic sounding groan of your name, he's giving one, two, three, four hard, deep thrusts, moaning as he pumps his thick load into you, feeling your oversensitive pussy milking him dry. "g-good boy, g'fucking boy, tojiii," you whimper, moving from his chest to pepper kisses all over his face, moaning softly as you feel his hot cum coating your walls.

his mind is so blissfully blank that he doesn't even realize he's shaking a little bit from how hard he just came. cooing happily at him, you cup his cheeks, trying to bring him back down to you. "come back t' me tojiiii, don't die on me, roomie!"

still reeling from his insanely intense orgasm, manages a little chuckle, his hand moving from your ass to under your shirt, stroking your back. "'m here, 'm here, promise...i just...shit. ya fuckin' drained me, girly. what the hell are you?"

you laugh, kissing the corner of his mouth before nestling under his chin to catch your breath. "I'm your damn friend who happens to be the roommate you have been tormenting by not letting me sleep, dumbass."

"heh. fair point."

you both stay like this for a bit, just resting a little and trying to catch your breath. except...toji's eyes feel a little heavy, and he feels himself drifting away. "there you goooo," you coo, hand running through his hair. "told ya i'd put you to sleep."

"yeah, yeah, you were right," he grumbles and opens an eye, hand coming up to pinch your cheek. "jus' a lil' nap, okay? we still gotta get you cleaned up. after all, i promised i'd clean my cum outta ya, right?"

"my god, toji, you are nasty."

"but you like ittttt."

you couldn't stop yourself from laughing because, yes, you did. you liked it a lot.

soon, the room falls quiet as toji's breathing falls into rhythm with yours, the rise and fall of his chest steady and slow. his mind is still a bit dazed, and he can't help but get a little flustered as he realizes how badly he's wrapped around your little finger. the thought is only further confirmed when he feels his heart squeeze just a bit when he notices you fell asleep on his chest.

he wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, huffing to himself. yeah, so what he was whipped, he finally got you in his arms, so he sees it as a win.

as sleep finally starts to creep up on him, he presses a little kiss to your forehead, leaning back against the pillows and shutting his eyes. just a little nap, and then he'll get you cleaned up and make sure you accept his apology for everything he's put you through.

...he just hopes you won't be too grumpy when you realize you fell asleep without your bonnet on.

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ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...lunar's tags : @satoruwiki @llllllllllllloser @screampied @abcdbleh @vicfuentesfangirl @sakurapeach @ohsuguru @crywolfix @naughtygobbo @aura88967 @jeanine-gt @tananaxx @tojancy @happymangosstuff

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not wanting to play DnD with a teenager?

So I (22F) am in college and after classes I like to play DnD with four of my friends, Ricky (21M), Tara (21F) Lola (22F) and Julie (20F)

Well recently Tara's little sister Ashley (15F) has been hanging out at Tara's apartment, where we usually have our game sessions, after school. Like for about two weeks now. Tara says its because her mother got a new job and doesnt get off work until 7pm so Ashley stays at the apartment from 4pm till about 7:30pm when her mother comes to pick her up.

4 pm is when our game sessions start most of the time (depending on if any of us have night classes that day or not) which means we now have a literal child watching us play. And because of that Tara has asked that we tone down the game sessions to be more "appropriate" and we also cant get drunk until Ashley leaves (which is stupid because Julie is under 21 and we can drink around her just fine but whatever) frankly I didnt mind the constant audience since Ashley was far more interested in watching us play than watching TV or playing on Tara's switch.

Well apparently just watching wasnt good enough for the brat because when i got to Tara's apartment for a game, Ashley was sitting at our table, excitedly filling out a character sheet while chattering nonstop with Ricky and Lola (Julie wasn't coming this time she had the stomach flu)

I naturally asked what she was doing because she normally just watched. Ashley gave me a confused look and said that she was joining our game like we had apparently talked about in our groupchat the night prior. Ricky and Lola both backed her up and showed the groupchat.

I had seen the messages but I thought Tara was joking about adding a literal child that doesnt even have a learners permit to our game that we had been continuing for three months now. I naturally went to go confront Tara.

She said that I agreed to let Ashley join in and if I didn't want to play with her I could've just not come.

Is she fucking serious?

What kind of sane person would want to play with a literal child and its edgy as fuck character (like the character was a wolf necromancer dressed in all black with two random scars across its chest. You could smell the hot topic radiating from this cringefest)

Tara refused to listen to reason and instead insisted that Ashley can play just for tonight and if i didnt like it I could leave.

I had no choice to stay and play

It was so fucking miserable.

The brat was constantly making stupid mistakes and dragging the whole party down with her. We constantly had to stop so Ricky (our DM) could explain things that should've been obvious because Ashley was too stupid to actually figure it out. My character was having to bail her's out near constantly. It was getting to the point where I just wanted to legitimately slap Ashley. I didnt because Tara would absolutely murder me but oh the temptation was strong.

And the worst part? I was the only one who seemed to be upset that our game was being completely thrown off course. Ricky, Lola and Tara took all of Ashley's many many fuck ups in stride and actually seemed to be enjoying it.

I have no idea why, that game was a train wreck

After an hour of hell Ricky called it quits for the day.

Which was weird because we usually go well into the night most of the time. Once the game was over Tara grabbed me by the arm and led me to the kitchen.

She asked me what the hell my problem was because it was apparently MY fault the game went so poorly and not the literal child's.

So I let her have it.

I told her it was a stupid idea to let her dumbass sister play with us, that Ashley shouldnt be playing with adults and its stupid to expect us to bow to the whims of a fifteen year old. I told her I never wanted to play with stupid bitch ass of a sister ever again.

I left the apartment after that.

This morning I was removed from the groupchat and all my friends have blocked me

Except for Lola, who has been going off on me in dms all day, calling me a horrible person, transphobic, a bully and a bitch. Every name in the book. None of them are talking to me and Julie, who wasn't even there keeps calling me an asshole and says i should apologize

AITA? I dont think i did anything wrong but everyone else thinks I did

What are these acronyms?

[charbies]

I'm mashing together my review of totk and reactions to random encounters with the masterworks I've had lately into one stream of consciousness

Totk should have had true continuity, not a 6 year time skip that we never get to see, experience, and feel. It's not that hard to bridge 2 games with a 1-2 min cutscene, esp in a zelda game. Majora's mask starts with quick, but meaningful exposition that bridges OOT to MM! The intro to wind waker is a 6 minute long cutscene!! This series thrives with its detailed, intriguing intros, so what happened?? Before I even launched totk the night it came out, I booted up botw and replayed the final boss & ending because I was so stoked to see the transition in story/world and wanted to honor both games. Instead boom, we're walking in a cave w/ no context.

I was so disappointed that zelda wasn't a companion character to link in totk, it was disempowering to her character arc. Really thought this game would build off of botw's snippets of link & zelda working together in memories. The teasers and trailers for totk gave this perception that she would be there (which would also "break tradition" like devs wanted, ffs). When I was on the tutorial island I was fully convinced I'd be finding her and we'd reconvene like "ok what's next." When I realized 20 mins into the game that she was GONE gone, as in will not reappear likely until the end of the game damsel-in-distress-style, my verbatim thought "wait... really? Is this still going to be good?" Which was kinda sad, for a game I waited so many years for :/

I had major pet peeves with the copy/paste nature of the cutscenes with the old sages. The dialogue, bgs, pacing, literally all identical. They just hot swapped the character models for the sages and said that was good enough, wtf!!! I live for cutscenes in games, I have since I was like 5. This felt lazy, and seriously demotivated me from completing the dungeons bc I knew there was going to be nothing novel or intriguing to look forward to

The secret stones were gimmicky af. Sorry. Also stupid name, they couldn't even opt for "sacred?" Ik in other languages they have way cooler names, which would have helped. Link's fucking thanos glove of stones was a stupid gimmick, I cannot believe they didn't think to alter that concept to be more mythical, or creative, or just original. I would have killed for the stones to relate to the triforce in some way, or to do away with the stones and have this game connect to the triforce, since the whole direction of this story was going back to ancient myth & lore.

the Zonai lacked depth, and honestly just felt like a boring distraction even tho they were supposed to be a central focus of this game. I 1000% agree with other folks posts on the take that rauru was a flat, 2-dimensional colonizer. Sonia got sidelined. yikes. ew. no thanks.

^similarly, ganon really was given no character or depth imo. It's like they did a fantastic job making him visibly LOOK scary, so they didn't bother to give him motives beyond "I'm bad, I do what I want."

the cliche "back to normal" at the end irked me. Link could have come out with no arm, keeping the zonia arm, or at least scars w/ the zonai arm pattern and that would be meaningful. Zelda got factory reset from irreversible draconification in a method that for all intents and purposes, could have been done as soon as link got rewind ability. There was no investigation or inclusion of the other dragons, which seemed like a missed opportunity. Actively working on reversing her could have been a main quest in game!! Like 1. Complete all dungeons/get all stones, 2. you can now go round up the spirits of rauru & sonia and reverse zelda yippee, 3. you and zelda go beat the shit out of ganon together. The dragons fighting was beautiful, powerful imagery, but honestly I think too much potential was traded away just to execute that one fraction of the boss fight.

The masterworks book annoys me, which is sad bc I love concept art. I wanted to be a concept artist growing up, I can accept that you'll often see things that never make it into the final cut. I was enamored with early posts abt things like zelda's haircut, char designs, etc.

But more recently I'm seeing the anthology side of the book taking major liberties that it didn't even bother showing us directly or alluding to in the game, and I think that's such a cop-out. They are literally telling us instead of SHOWING us in the game they release a year ago, and spent SIX YEARS making. There was a festival celebrating the return of zelda/defeat of ganon?? Freaking show us that!!! Show us link & zelda acclimate to post-calamity life. Show us imperfect, non-linear healing and resilience. I would have loved a festival scene w/ link and zelda that conveys the nuance of celebration and recognition of their efforts, and the contrasting weight of what they went through. Show me zelda, exhausted after a festival struggling with guilt and indecision about whether to bring back the monarchy with hyrule's restoration. Throwing in a "oh btw imagine if we actually had done this" post-game makes me so irritated and feral. It's like the post-release canon is sidling up to fanon and saying, "hey look we can do that too! look at our fan art" idk if that makes sense, I don't think I'm explaining it well. But it just feels disingenuous.

I'm not a timeline purest, I don't need everything to interconnect, but I don't love how assertions in this book invalidate connections and lore of other games. Also really don't love how this game overwrites and sidelines the sheikah.

I know majority of my disappointment stems from my own, personal expectations of a game that, let's face it, was probably given many mandates and initiatives to appeal to *everyone* in broad, lackluster ways. I still love the world and characters of zelda, if anything, totk reaffirmed what I love and want to prioritize in my art that I didn't see present in this game. Fun fact I used the world of botw to learn a lot about drawing landscapes & composition. It actually inspires me a bit to try to learn to do comics, which has been a longtime goal I've been too busy and/or timid to pursue lol.

mmm anyway if u read this and any of this resonated DM me and lets froth at the mouth and commiserate lol

[ravennaortiz]

Please more Coco ( my soul is lost to this man) with 6. Are you afraid of me? , 16. Your scars are beautiful, 22. Make me, 32. You’re mine, 38. Beg.( Sorry if there’s a max on prompts but I think they work well together for something super smutty 😇.)

Welcome back Love!!! I can def get you some more Coco!( No prompt limit, feel free to put in as many as your heart desires!). As Always 18+.

Scars

Coco sat watching you as you made drinks behind the bar and chatted with EZ. The two of you had seemed to be building something but whenever he seemed to get to close you darted away. He assumed it wasn't the biker image since you kept coming around the clubhouse. So he figured it was him. Granted he had a reputation but he had never hurt a woman.

You could feel Coco's eyes on you from across the clubhouse. You knew you owed him an explanation about the other night when you two had been making out on the hood of your car. Embarrassment of that night had you dropping the beer in your hand.

"Your suppose to be helping me not making my life harder" teased EZ as he playfully smacked your arm with the towel he had been drying glasses with. "I can leave if you want?" you replied with a raised brow as you moved to pick up the glass. Before EZ could respond Coco's voice rang out. "Yo Boy Scout! Quit flirting and start working" called Coco his jealousy getting the best of him.

"I'm going to pop outside for a bit" you whispered a few minutes later as you gently touched EZ's shoulder. Once he nodded you grabbed your jacket and a beer and headed out the door. Once outside you inhaled the fresh, cool night air. You were lost in your own thoughts when you felt someone grab your arm.

"Are you afraid of me? Is that why you took off and are flirting with EZ? questioned Coco as he turned you to face him.

"What?" you questioned as your brow furrowed at the insanity of both questions. Coco took a breath and repeated himself.

"No, I'm not afraid of you Coco" you replied with a shake of your head. "Granted you did just grab me in the middle of the night but I put that to poor judgment. Same as saying I was flirting with EZ. We both know he's not my type" you replied with a easy laugh.

Coco couldn't help but let out a sigh of relieve and a laugh of his own. "Fair enough" he replied as he let your arm go but didn't move back away from you. "So you wanna tell me what I did wrong the other night that had you running for the hills?" he asked cautiously his eyes searching yours.

You bit your lower lip as you considered his question. This was inevitable and would have to be talked about sometime. "Things were getting a bit too real and shit. I have...I have" you started before you stopped trying to find the right words.

"If your going to say dick. I'm fine with that" offered Coco making you laugh. "No. Its not a dick" you replied with an eye roll.

"I have some pretty ugly scars and its hard to be... intimate.... with them and feel comfortable in my skin" you replied quietly your eyes looking anywhere but at him now.

"The word ugly should never come out of your pretty mouth. Especially not about this art piece" murmured Coco as he ran his hands down your sides and onto your hips as he pulled you closer. "You should let me show you how your scars are beautiful" he continued as his lips ghosted your neck sending spikes of pleasure through your body.

Feeling emboldened by the hands and lips ghosting over your body you ran your hands under his shirt as you replied. "Make me Coco".

Twenty minutes later the two of you were naked in his bed as his fingers, lips and teeth paint hot trails along your skin. You squirm and whimper as he licks along the raised purple scar that runs under your right breast as his fingers skim between your wet folds.

Coco smiles into your skin as he dips two fingers into you, slowly pushing them up into that sweet spot making you clamp around them. "So fucking beautiful" he murmurs as he kisses the jagged scar that runs down the center of your abdomen. You could feel your orgasm start to build when he abruptly pulled his fingers from you.

"Patience" murmured Coco as he kissed his way back up you body until he was hovering over you. You could feel the head of his cock at your entrance and raised your hips slightly. "Nah Mama" scolded Coco as he pushed your hips firmly back down. "You're mine now. Only good girls get this" he stated as he leaned back and teased you by rubbing his head through your wet folds. "Beg" he ordered gently as his lust blown pupils found yours.

"Please fuck me Coco." you pleaded as you pouted. Coco shot you a smirk as he quickly slid himself completely into you making you both moan. Coco grunted as he gripped your hips firmly, pounding in and out of you. All you could do was moan and take it as Coco held you in place beneath him. Without warning Coco hooked your right leg up onto his shoulder making you clench tighter around him. He smirked as he watched your eyes roll back and mouth fall open in a silent scream. "Be a good girl and cum" ordered Coco as his fingers moved between the two of you to pinch your clit.

Within seconds his name was falling from your lips as your body released around him and your body spasmed uncontrollably. Coco thrusted into you a few more times before pouring out his own release as your body milked him. Coco slumped down on top of you as you both panted.

His hands traced along your scars as his lips found yours. "So beautiful" he whispered as he pulled back slightly.

Want more Coco? Click here

Want to make your own request? Click here

[sugar-omi]

TRANS MASC COVE TRANS MASC COVE (sfw +nsfw hcs pls,, id love your thoughts)

NO BC NOW YOU'VE PUT THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD N I NEED HIM DESPERATELY eta while im in the middle of writing: after this i... i can no longer hold onto my fem!cove thoughts. n i am eating up trans!cove like a starving ANIMAL.

tags : SFW + NSFW, transmasc (ftm) cove, switch cove/reader, some mentions of body/gender dysmorphia, im sure theres 1 transphobe walking around sunset bird so the smallest mention of that clown

SFW

i've been seeing a lotta top surgery scar tattoos on my twt timeline lately, and pls some of them i need for myself bc they're so!!!! pretty!!!!

so i can definitely see him getting tattoos there

not because he wants to cover em up, i just think he sees so many flash sheets over time that he's SOLD

mmm i wanna say that fem/afab!cove would have small boobs

or B cups at most

either way, i almost wanna say that his boobs before surgery wouldn't bother him as much unless someone was sexualizing him or he was exercising n his boobs were bouncing too much or smth like that

even then its usually complaints of, "ugh, this bra isn't supportive..." or something like that

ofc he still has his moments

i also think he only binds sometimes, rarely

doesn't do it often since it's often hot outside, or especially if he's sporty, its uncomfortable

(also looked it up just to be sure) but since he's always on the beach its inconvenient/unnecessary to wear if he can't wear it in the water

but like i said i think he'd be pretty flat/small anyway, so i think he's okay

mm definitely doesn't give up having long hair, or wearing the occasional dress/skirt ofc

but will correct one of the old sunset bird residents if they try and say "see honey, it was a phase, you're wearing a dress today!"

also idk abt yall, n this is more of a general thought, but i feel like step 2 cove's impulse control is. deathly low.

so one day, he has long/long-ish hair

and the next he has a mullet, wolf cut, or buzz cut.

he's so chaotic to me pls

now i've had fem!cove on my mind for weekssss now

so i'm not just saying this

but cove is still buff

thick muscly thighs, NICE ARMS. REALLY NICE ARMS

mm so i feel like he looks pretty androgynous or masc anyway

now im projecting here.

but cove has irregular periods, n they're pretty heavy most the time

or lasts awhile (ok im done projecting. sorry cove</3)

also think he deals with cramps (IM SORRY COVE)

i think his period is the biggest trigger of his body/gender dysmorphia too

although i think fem!cove would hate her period anyway altho tbf who doesnt

he'd definitely appreciate some comfort!!!

bring him another heating pad, your comfiest hoodie or blanket and snacks

he's very happy for the thoughtfulness and the company

step 2 cove would definitely be moved by such thoughtfulness... he's in tears

so after the first time it's a trend to spend time together in his bed, watching movies or something while he's cuddled into your side or next to you in a cove-rrito, all sleepy n comfy...

NSFW

had to stop writing the SFW to write this bc i had a thought

cove laid out all pretty... his chest rising and falling and he's all teary eyed as you're between his legs, eating his cunt until he's seeing stars.

pls his cunt with be so sensitive, and he'd be so pretty to fuck

would shake so much too

his thighs quivering so bad he clamps around your hand

you'd have to hold his legs up so he doesn't nearly flatten your head between his thick thighs

"y/n!" cove cries, his hands tangled in your hair and he's trying so hard not to squish your head between his thighs, but your tongue is flat against his sensitive clit, sucking and bullying the poor button while your fingers make a loud, sloppy mess of his hole.

he whines, hips shaking in your hands.

you tighten your grip on his waist, your fingers digging into the flesh, grumbling irritably around his clit but cove just cries out a loud moan and slurred word, torn between your name, a cuss word, and a cry for god.

you pull of his clit, your fingers still curling against that spongy spot inside his sloppy walls. "stay still, you're gonna crush my head..." you start to kiss his thighs, small kisses turning into you sucking deep hickeys into his tan skin, and that turning into biting.

cove gasps for air, his eyes fluttering closed as he squirms.

"fuck, y/n, please..." he mumbles, tugging at the bedsheets.

you stop the assault on his thighs, leaning up on your elbows so you can give cove a kiss, your lips lazily moving together...

anyway... horny aside for a moment<333

mm i could see cove not getting or really wanting bottom surgery

i think trans cove would be pretty comfortable with his body's appearance overall

and he's probably read into it a lot since it's not like he hasn't thought about it, i could just see him probably deciding its not something he wants

ARGGHH HE'D BE A DEMON WITH THE STRAP THOUGH

ahh. cove holding you down or folding your legs against your chest while he slams his hips against yours...

his strap hitting your poor prostate / cervix, he'd coo about how cute your whines are and that you're making him leak

would definitely upset he can't fill you up w cum

especially if you wanna get pregnant, rambles about how much he wishes he could fill you up with his cum again and again and again...

arghhh fuck imma lose my MIND

definitely takes advantage of those squirting dildos

can at least admire how you look oozing milky lube

omfg definitely wakes up all excited to tell you if he dreamed about it too...

has an array of straps

we already know he has a tentacle dildo or two deep in his closet...

yeah tries them out on you

"don't get tired yet, i have one more.. and it has a knot!!!"

he just likes to experiment on you a little~~ bit <333

ohh please tell him he looks handsome/sexy while you're giving him head

he'll die.

FUCK HE'D GO CRAZY IF YOU RIDE HIM TOO I KNOW IT

yeah he's still the same cute, secretly horny, big crybaby pookie <3333 i love him pls

[gemstone-roses]

Hannibal

Trigger warning for self harm.

Request is under the read more.

A:N- this is a one off, i will not be doing any other requests on this subject so please do not ask. This is not meant to romanticise or anything, I am writing from past experiences and if any of the themes in this fic are triggering, don't read it. this was requested by @melavoris . Also Thankyou for being so respectful of my boundaries when requesting this fic! 💖

Request: can you do hannibal with a reader who self harms and he sees her healing scars and what he would do.

sorry for this taking so long- I had to take a break from uni and have felt like a complete fucking failure so... anyway, time to crawl out of my self pity hole, here you go! I tried to keep it vague whilst also including the details you asked for.

Warnings: self harm(no actual scenes of this but its the theme of the fic), scars, , hurt /comfort, 18+ only thanku! Female reader.

it's an avalanche of bad luck that ends with you and hannibal in this four room motel, with only one bed of course, stranded in the middle of the country, with a storm brewing for the night.

Jack had sent the two of you to interview someone connected to the case, you and hannibal worked well together, your skills and knowledge complimented each others work.

"I don't have anything to wear" you whined at hannibal, a smirk making it's way across his face.

"I have a spare shirt you can wear" hannibal says, because of course this man keeps spare shirts in his boot.

The shirt is long enough for you to keep a little dignity at least.

"I'll take the cou- you begin to say before he cuts you off.

"No, you will not, the bed is big enough for us both, the couch is big enough for neither of us" he says, matter of factly. But he's right, you could barely sit two people on the couch let alone lie and sleep on it.

"Um, alright" you say, slightly nervous.

"it's okay y/n" , he reassures you, seeming to sense your apprehension.

By the time hannibals out the shower, you've drifted off to sleep, he chuckles quietly at the sight, one leg flung over the quilt, arm shoved under the pillow.

It's not until hannibal gets in the other side and sees the flashes of red across your thigh.

Hannibal gently tugs the quilt until its free, he puts it back over you, tucks you in softly.

The next morning, your awoken by the shower running, hannibal in nothing but a towel.

"I saved you some hot water" he smiles.

There's a bottle of antiseptic on the shower shelf, thats lucky, you thought.

Your packing up your things to finally get out of this shitty room when hannibal gently catches your arm.

"Y/n, are you alright?" He asks, his voice is comforting, soothing, laced with concern.

"Im okay" you say.

"Hm". Hannibal smiles slightly, but he's not satisfied with your response.

Hannibal cares for you, deeply. You and him are close, he hates to think of you struggling on your own.

Hannibals driving, he asks if you'd like to come over for dinner, since there's no point going back to the office this late. You agree, delighted, his cooking is something else.

You make yourself comfortable while he dots about his house.

"Here, I have something for you" hannibal says, there's that deep comforting voice again that makes you feel safe.

You eye him confused, its a rubber band.

"Some of my patients, they've said it helps, in the short term" he says, his eyes never leave yours, but there's no pity or sadness or anything at all like that.

He's holding your hand in his, his grip tight, but not hard.

"It's okay y/n" he smiles, his hand moves to your cheek.

"Thankyou" you say quietly.

Hannibal doesn't let go of you as he speaks again.

"Whatever it is, y/n, I'm here".

"There are many things to try that can help, if you like, I can work through them with you". He adds.

"we don't have to talk, not tonight, but I want you to be safe and know that I'm not going anywhere, I'm here, I'll always be here". Hannibal soothes.

"okay" you nod, as he pulls you into a hug.

He holds you tight, but softly.

"Okay" he agrees.

[0fucsgiveon]

𝓐 𝓣𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓞𝓯 𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓮

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎!- choking, possessive behavior, billy!russo x fem!reader, dark!Billy Russo. Knife play, daddy kink, spanking, guns and knifes, murder, drugs and alchol, (Dom sub dynamics) stalking, overstimulation, squirting, slapping, rough topics. Toxicity (let me know if i miss anything!) not proofread

18+ 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙊𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏

Y/n was a women of power whatever she wanted she got. She was the leader of one of the most top gangs in new york which only consists of women. Though one thing was for sure she despised men they were the annoying fly that she tried to get rid of but they kept comming. That all changed when she decided to make an alliance with the one and only Billy

You took a deep breath the smell of gun powder and smoke filled you nose. The smell was all but familiar it made your heart skip a beat and walk with more force. As you walked along many workers bowed down to you. You loved power the one thing you never had as a little girl and you couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your face. A girl with short red hair and glasses that sat on her nose perfectly, spoke as she fiddled with the pen in her suit. “Mrs, i’m sorry to bother you. But your appointment arrived early and he asked if you could hurry up” 

“Ah i see” you spoke softly and looked at the girl who was shaking. “Good job, go ahead and take a break i know its a little scary, and remember he can’t and wont do anything as long as im here” 

The girl smiled and nodded as she walked away and sat on a nerby couch.

You slowly walked up the stairs carefully listening to the small sounds of heavy feat walking around the room. As you reached the door you slowly opened the door and locked it behind you. Slowly turning to see a guy with rugged clothes and buzzed hair, he had cuts on his face and deep brown eyes that were trailing down your body and up to your face. You stared blankly at him for awhile than slowly sat down on a leather chair crossing your legs. He looked down at your thighs that the slant on your dress exposed to his feasting eyes . “You know were here for business and i don’t like to have my time wasted. Scar face” you spoke with venom as you stared him in the eyes. Billy’s eyebrows furrowed and he walked towards you with a low chuckle. “Listen, sweetheart I’m not here to waste my time either” he turned around and sat down spreading his legs and leaning back.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before looking back at him. “Before we get down to business i want you to know i hate men and the only reason im talking to you right now is because you have stuff i need and i have stuff you need” 

“Trust me princess ive heard all about your hate towards men and how you had such a fucked up life with your poor dad-“ you threw a knife right at the wall it barley touching his face as you walked over to him placing both of your hands on the arm of his chair. “You have no right to talk about him you understand” 

Billy just smirked and pulled you closer by the chin with his hand. “Don’t worry princess im not here to hurt you or talk about your shitty life” his voice was stern but spoke with a hint of calmness. That made your heart race and feel your cheek’s turn hot. You both sat there in quiet for a moment before you pulled away and sat down pouring a glass of 1980 rose wine. You looked at him intensely before taking a sip and getting back to the discussion.

The meeting was faster than you thought and billy was more agreeable and not as indecisive as people made him out  be. 

“See you later sweetheart” he playfully winked and walked out which caused you  to roll your eye’s.

A few months went by everything was going smoothly. Billy has moved his crew in your hideout, so you seen him a lot more. You would be lying if you actually didn’t appreciate his presence. He would often talk about his past life, which you related too. But he mostly talked about his “psychologist girlfriend”. You didnt like her and practically wanted to rip her head off. Which led you to this situation right now. You forced yourself to look down at the broken window where her hopeless body laid. She tried to kill you so you fought back which led to her bleeding out on the sidewalk surrounded by random people. You felt your heart thump and blood drip down your face to your eyebrow.

 You looked over to see billy with a blank expression than down at the body than back at you. You back up and ran to find your gun. Slowly you crept to the door. “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU! AFTER ALL I DONE YOU DO THIS. YOUR FUCKING BITCH” billy kicked the door open and when he was about to turn a corner you knocked him down. “Heh, im the bitch shes the one who fucking started it! I did you a favor! She was sleeping with other guys billy!” You shouted. “Your a fucking liar” he flipped you over and onto the floor. “Hmft, i caught her in the act and was about to call you but she attacked me, his fucking clothes are over there.” He slowly let go of you to turn and look where an unfamiliar man’s clothes were. 

You slowly got up and wiped your eyebrow and the two slashes on your face one on the left cheek and the other on the right corner of your forehead. Billy slowly got up and turned to face you. You stared at him for a second before he ran and put his hands around your throat enough to hurt but not to remove the air from your lungs. He looked into your eyes than at your lips. “Come on bill, are you going to kill me” you smiled before you raised a knife to his throat. “Now why would i do that sweetheart” he slowly leaned in your lips inches apart and the knife slowly creating an almost scratch mark. “Bill-“ he kissed you before you could finish and you slowly let go of the knife before wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip losened on your throat. Sirens were heard and you both stopped before you walked out with billy right on your track. 

When you reached the car you started the engine and sped off. The whole ride was silent. “So your just not going to talk” his voice spoke gently. You cleared your throat “theres nothing to talk about.” You pressed the gas peddle going at 90 now. “Sweetheart, i know your lying” he glared at you.

“Look, I don’t got time for this billy” you glared at him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fuck if your going to act like this than stop the car.” You slammed the breaks and looked at him. “Just get the fuck out okay.” He scoffed and open the door slamming it behind him.

One thing was for sure you would never tell him was you were the girl he used to play with the girl with the shitty pedophile of a dad. You slammed you head against you seat speeding to  the hideout.

It had been two weeks since the fight you guys had. You hadn’t heard or seen from him since than. You played with your knife examining it, tracing over the edges with your finger tip. Slowly you sat up placing the knife in a secret compartment. Walking out of the room your heels  clicking against the wooden floor in the quiet house. Making your way to the kitchen you took out glass of red wine. You looked at the corner of your eye, he was there just staring at you blankly. In his tight black demin jeans with a tight black shirt to match. What you wouldnt do to rip it right of him and leave marks all over his body. His grunt caught your attention and your turned over to look at him than look away. 

Not bothering to give him the time of day you walked right past him sitting down crossing your legs. “ah, i see your still mad at me sweetheart” his voice rang in your ears like a soft melody you haven’t listen to in awhile. Ignoring him you took a sip, finally turning to look at him he was already in front of you looking down at you. You slowly looked up. “What are you doing here this late billy. What do you want?” Your voice sounded cruel, you saw the way his jaw clench and he took a deep breath. “ i -i came to say sorry, fuck y/n im so fucking sorry ive been tryna call you but you changed your number so ive been keeping my eye on you..” his confession was quiet but it was loud an clear. Weirdly it made your heart skip a beat at his confession. Normal girls would run away gag and be scared or disgusted that they were being “stalked”. But you weren’t normal far from it. You felt your cheeks get hot and listen to billy mumble for  words. “And i just want to be with you. I want to so fucking much y/n”  hearing enough  you pulled him by the shirt standing up and kissing his lips with so much passion and fire he almost fell over. Slowly he kissed you back moving the stool to push you into the counter. 

Your hand went to the back of his neck scratching softly making him groan in response. He pulled your hair to make your mouth open so he could slide his tongue in. You could feel yourself getting wet and your belly make flips. As well as billys hard on. He could hardly take it anymore his jeans becoming to tight. At that moment his hands were touching everywhere. “Fuck i cant take it anymore i need to touch you feel you.. taste you, it’s driving me fucking insane” billy felt like a teenage boy wanting to fuck you right there. He lifted you up and put you on his shoulder dragging you to your room. You laughed at his eagerness with made him slap your ass a few times shutting you up. 

He threw you on the bed and just looked at you. You looked so beautiful  swollen lips and soft red marks on your neck. Your dress rolled above your plush soft thighs. “Your so fucking beautiful y/n” he rasped and kissed you softly while slowly taking off your dress. you moaned when you felt his knee between your legs grinding against it your core soaking his pants because you forgot to wear underwear.” Billy fuck i cant take it any more.. please do something please” you became a pleading mess not even remembering your self anymore while lust clouded your judgement. Billy laughed above you. Finally finished getting you all naked and bare for his eyes to see. You felt a little insecure hiding your self from his hungry eyes. He make a type of growl sound and lifted your wrists above your head. “ tsk tsk, none of that now i want to see all of this body all of it for me and its so fucking gorgeous so stop hiding it” it felt more of a command than a compliment and a whimper came out of you. “ shh Dont worry daddy will take care of you” he hummed while tying your wrist together with the rope of your dress. You would be mad that he ruined your dress but that was for later.

“Billy please just fuck me now i cant take it anymore” he grabbed your throat and bit your lip making it bleed into his mouth. You whined at the pain but it felt so good. “Thats not my name sweetheart, i only pleasure good girls and you haven’t been so good lately” he softly kisses around your nipples almost feathered like to the point you could barley feel it. He was making you angry with all his teasing and he was doing it on purpose and you knew it. “Bill- Daddy fuck i cant take i need you so fucking bad right just look how wet you made me, i cant take it anymore your the only one that can please me~” your voice was soft full of a seductive tone that made Billy’s ears pick up. “Since you asked so nicely ill give it to you, but you have to follow my rules”  he whispered in your ears. You nodded eagerly agreeing to whatever he said.

 He slowly kissed down to your thighs leaving bite marks sometimes along the way making you squirm. He slapped your face making you cry a little while he shook his head. You looked in his eyes catching the warning trying to stay as still as possible. He licked. Down your thighs so close to the place you needed him the most.

You where whining for him to lick there. When he finally did a low moan came from him. “So fucking sweet and all fucking mine.” He grumbled while sucking on your clit and prodding your entrance with his fingers. Moans left your lips he was skillful with his actions hitting spots your fingers couldn’t reach licking you like his life depended on it. You felt like you were in heaven. But you couldn’t keep your thighs open no matter how hard you tried. “Fuck daddy  t’s too much” you kept squirming. “ mmm i know baby but you got to be still daddy can do something for you but it might hurt okay” he was asking for your consent which you gladly agreed to. He pulled a knife from a nearby desk staring up at you. “All you got to do i keep these pretty thighs open and then you wont get cut, ok princess” he whispered in your ear and nibbled slightly. You moaned in response pleasing billy. He slid  down slowly and trace the knife around your nipples. The touch foreign but pleasurable, it felt like a scratch but it didn’t hurt. Slowly he dragged it down to your thighs careful to put light pressure.

When he reached you sweet spot he started his work again giving you beyond pleasure you could imagine. The knife only slightly touching you thigh. Your moans were more than audible and the room was filled with slurp noises. You trued you best to keep you thighs apart and felt your high approaching. “Daddy! Fuck imm gonn-na cum” you almost screamed. Billy moaned in response and continued. Your high washed over you but he never slowed his pace. Making you over sensitive. “Fu- stop it cant take no more” you almost cried. “Just one more baby ok, have to make sure your all prepped and wet” after what seemed like decades you came three times already sore from his torment. He threw the knife aside and came up to kiss you. Your juices still on his lips.  You moaned and kissed him back. He rest his head against yours and pulled your thighs around his waist thrusting all of him into you in one push. His eyes rolled back and a low groan came out making you feel butterfly’s.

“Fuck your so tight, made just for me huh,” he slapped your cheek and harshly thrusted up into you. Making you let out a loud mewl. “All for you, fuck fell ssso good” tears were running down your cheeks. And billy started thrusting into you at a fast pace that hit your sweet spot over and over. He whispered dirty words in your ears and looked down at you. He wrapped his hand around your throat still setting a brutal pace. “Fuck look at me. Mmm want to see me little whore all for me!” He felt you clenched at those words and sped up and moved his fingers to your clit. “You like that huh? Being my little whore” he slapped you and you moaned loudly. “Mmgh yess all your daddy. Your little whore.. gonna cum!!” You started shaking feeling an unfamiliar feeling.

“Its ok cum let me feel your juices” he kissed you as you came feeling a flush if juices come out. “Fuck look at that made you squirt so fucking hot” he groaned and released inside of you. You shared a passionate kiss. Flipping you guys over now you on top.  Still inside you rolled you hips against him. “Fuck you look so pretty like that baby girl” he grabbed your hims and made you move slowly. “Billy ngh, i need to tell you something.” You stared down at hime while you slowly moved up and down bitting your lips. “Ok baby tell me” he leaned up so now your guys were impossibly close while he sucked on your neck leaving marks. You moaned softly. “ im.. im the girl.. who played with you as a child..” you whispers. He immediately looked up at you staring you in the eyes as he pulled you closes thrusting up into you at such a fast pace your nipples bounced in his face. You moaned loudly as he flipped you over kissing you everywhere. Your face scrunched up in pleasure trying to form words. “Shh. I know your her, i knew for a long time but fuck been waiting for you to say it. Ima give you my kids yeah? Were gonna have a fucking happy family ok?” He moaned in your ears and you just nodded in reply.

 “Gonna fill you up now okay?” He started rubbing your clit bringing you over the edge as you saw stars as you both cummed together. He stilled for a moment looking in your eyes. He looked sad and you pulled him in for a hug. “ I’ve done some bad things y/n..” he whispered. 

“So have i billy, but that doesn’t matter ok?”

He hummed in response and gave you a soft kiss.

“I love you y/n… i always will” your heart skipped a beat at the confession and your cried a little. His brow scrunched up in worry. And you softly laughed.

“I love you to billy, and i always will”

You both cuddled and enjoyed each others embrace.

You felt safe a feeling that was hardly recognizable.

But one thing was for sure is that your love for each-other was a burning passion with a touch of fire.

[copper-hopkins]

Christmas Eve whump, I'm writing on the clock cause my fuck ass boss can't close the store for a week.

It'd been 4 whole months since I'd been captured, and if I wasn't sure before, I was now. I am never going to escape. Even if I somehow leave, my captor has connections and money beyond my wildest imaginations and would be able to bring me back within a matter of days. In my despair, I checked the calendar. It's Christmas Eve, a holiday I used to celebrate. That was before my family found out what I was. It's been a couple of years since then, and I guess it's for the better. No mistletoe, hot cocoa, or presents for me anymore. I usually just cry at what used to be.

I walk out of my room to use the restroom and find the basement to be entirely decorated. Why would my captor do this? I guess it wants to lure me into a false sense of security. I brace myself and wince when I hear the door to the basement open. Of course, it's here today. Sometimes, it just leaves me alone here for days on end. I just wish today was one of those days. Call me a scrooge, but I hate Christmas. It calls down to me from the stairs, thumping down slowly. "Helllllooooooo, my darling. I hope you're excited about Christmas tomorrow! I decorated while you were asleep to surprise you." I shudder a bit. A surprise from this monster usually means that I get tortured in return somehow.

I don't look pleased at all. In fact, my eyes are puffy from when I realized what day it was. "Is something wrong, my dear? I-i thought you'd love this. In my research of you, I found so many old photos of you enjoying the holidays. I don't even celebrate Christmas myself, so this is all for you. Aren't you grateful?" It notices how closed off I am and sets down the presents in its arms. "I'm sorry, did I upset you? I wanted today to be happy. Are you upset about being away from your family? It's alright, I'm your new family now. Here." It wraps its arms around me tight, and I can't help but sob again. I shake and gently cling to the monster's fur. "I miss them, but they hate me. I'm just a demon to them. It's not my fault, I didn't mean to." I don't know why I started to break down in front of it, but I am. I try not to reveal too much about my past, as it knows basically everything anyway. It has a bit of a history gap from 3 to 2 years ago, but that's not my fault. I'd rather keep that a secret regardless. It holds me tighter, so much it hurts, and it's hard to breathe. It helps, though. It helps. I just want to be held, and this helps.

I decided to let my captor have its fun with the holiday spirit, and it honestly helped me relax. An old CD plays with Michael Bublé. It makes me laugh a bit to myself, as I haven't listened to anything like this in so long. Before much time has passed, I'm wrapped up in a blanket drinking hot cocoa. I never imagined that I would celebrate this holiday again, but here I am cuddling on a couch with a shapeshifter wearing a Santa hat.

"I have some gifts for you! I tried to get your favorites, as it's a special day tomorrow. I actually got a lot more than I should have, how I love to spoil my darling. I'll let you have one today and the rest tomorrow, then." It hands me a box wrapped in silver wrapping paper, with a red ribbon. It feels familiar somehow, but I brush it off. It puts me a bit on edge as I unravel the bow and take off the lid.

It's a sweater and pants. PANTS? You're kidding me. I actually start to shake with excitement. I very rarely get to wear anything to cover my scars, and now I get to keep a pair of pants? I forget to breathe at this small luxury. "I'm glad you like it, dear! I got myself a gift, too. Look in the bottom of the box." Why would it put a gift for itself in a box meant for me? I dig around the bottom of the box and find a small letter.

'Dear Oscar, Merry Christmas Eve! I hope you like the pants, I know you've been wanting them as a permanent staple in your wardrobe. I bet you're wondering why I'm feeling so generous, and here's why: I want to make this day truly special for both of us. Now, look behind you.'

What? I was reading so intently that I didn't notice the monster had gotten up from the couch. I look behind me, and it's holding a pair of handcuffs. Oh. There's not much of a point to struggling, as that thing can easily break all my bones if it wanted to. I've kinda given up hope, and today was trying to give me some. I follow it to the unfinished room in the basement, where it tortures and sometimes eats victims such as me. I'm chained to a table in the middle of the room with my stomach face down, and I begin to weep again. I thought today was going to be nice, but I guess not. I'm probably going to be whipped again, but I didn't do anything wrong. I've tried my best to be compliant for so long. It leaves for a moment before returning with a large metal rod and a cooler.

"I want you to remember today, my darling. That's why I got you this." It grabs a rectangular piece of metal out of the cooler with some gloves and screws it onto the metal pole. It is kind of cold in here. I think the metal has some sort of lettering on it, but it's reversed, so I can't quite read it. "Relax, this will only sting for a bit. Don't scream. Please. You know it hurts my big ears." With that, it goes behind me and lowers the pole down onto my back. A sharp, freezing sensation is piercing my skin. I take a huge inhale and try not to freak out as I realize what's happening. After a few bitterly cold seconds, the brand is removed, and my skin is not in as much pain as I thought. "There, all done for me. You did such a good job, darling." I decide to fight back a bit, "Did you just freeze brand me? What the fuck did you put into my skin?" I wriggle in my handcuffs and try to tilt my head back to see the mark. "Dont worry, darling. It just says that your my property is all. Isn't this great? It didn't hurt too bad, and I'm going to treat your wound well." I bite back my anger and try to act calm. "If I'm already yours, why do you need to mark me? It's not like you'll let anyone see me in public without a shirt on."

It sighs and mumbles, "Well, I didn't want to ruin the surprise, but if you're good, and choose to submit to me fully, maybe in a couple years I'll let you go out on your own. If anyone ever tries to lay their hands on you, ever, they'll see that you're mine. Isn't that just romantic?" Wait. Is it just going to let me go and be free? I suppose I should be grateful, but I can't. I shouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place, let alone kept down here for months on end. Now I'm marked like a prized cow, and no amount of Lazer removal can take it off. I. Hate. This. Monster.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 9: Missed Connection

"But what about your missed connection? I wouldn’t want to stand in your way if she turns up.”  Gale caught her by the wrist and guided her onto the dance floor, clasping one of her hands in his while the other rested upon her hip. Placing her free hand against his chest to steady herself, Florence let him lead the dance, her skin flushing as he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Would you like to know a secret, Florence?” “I do love secrets.”  As the music played, Gale waltzed with her casually, his hand sliding upward to fit perfectly at her waist. She could see heads turn, her peers gossiping. “You already know her quite well.”  She raised an eyebrow, leaning back suspiciously. “I thought it was obvious. I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party, but you always seem to be surrounded by friends or otherwise occupied. Or more recently, completely absent. You’ve been missing from classes, the dining hall…where have you been?” “I came down with a cold earlier in the week.” The lie came to her easily, just like every other time in her life.  “Nothing serious, I hope? Or contagious?” Gale leaned in close with a roguish grin, “Not that you aren’t worth the risk.” Florence halted, staring with her mouth agape. “Gale…I-” He took her hand again, pulling her against him a bit more firmly, but still loose enough that she had an out should she choose to take it.  “We’re just dancing, Florence. That’s all this is,” he reassured her playfully. His confidence seemed to falter ever so slightly, but the mask slipped back into place as she allowed him to resume the dance.  “Just dancing.” She echoed.

Summary: Florence runs into trouble at the goblin camp, takes a little nap, and dreams about a missed opportunity from her past with Gale. Ouch.

Pairing: Gale x Named Tav/OFC

Words: 4.3k

Warnings (please mind for this one, it gets hot and heavy, but also heavy-heavy): 18+, MDNI, violence, blood, depictions of self harm, references to incubus-related SA/deception, intrusive thoughts/distress from obsessive compulsive disorder, Astarion saying appalling things, and painful yearning.

Read on AO3

The following morning, Florence and her companions set out for the goblin camp Zevlor had told them about. As they wound through the woods, she did her best to step high over carrion and puddles of bloody rainwater that lined the path.

“Can’t we just side with the goblins? There’s so many of them. It’ll take hours to kill them all.” Astarion groaned.

Wyll trudged up a steep hill, hand on the rapier at his hip. “I’m going to let that question pass, because you had a bad night, Astarion.”

“It’s just-heroics aren’t really my thing-”

“I am running on little sleep and zero patience after being awakened by your teeth in my neck.” Gale growled. Florence’s gaze drifted to the scar lingering where Shadowheart had healed him from the bite. “Return to camp or come along. No one here cares, but please, will you shut up!”

The vampire raised his eyebrows and smirked, giving the wizard a wide breadth as he fell in step next to Florence, who scrambled for something to hold as she narrowly avoided face planting in the mud.

“Your wizard is testy today.” Astarion said, catching her by the elbow and dragging her uphill with him. He was surprisingly strong. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I am the only friend you have left here, Astarion. Don’t fuck it up.” She said, pulling her arm away. 

“I can probably win back Karlach.”

“By advocating for the slaying of her kinfolk?”

“I didn’t say we kill the Tieflings, just…remain neutral. Let nature take its course…”

“Are you serious?” Florence stopped in her tracks. “After all you’ve been through, do you actually think - agh!” 

Something like an ice pick stabbed at her brain, and she fell on her hands and knees in the dirt, clutching her skull. Astarion hissed through his teeth, and Shadowheart cried out, confirming she wasn’t the only one affected. 

Hear my voice. Obey my command. 

The words came from within her mind, rather outside her body, and she shook as the corners of her vision went black. She was drowning in nothingness, pulled to obey as three dark figures appeared in her mind’s eye. 

These are my chosen-

The voice was cut off by a vivid orange light, energy pulsing from behind her as Shadowheart thrust a metal object forward, somehow interrupting the Absolute’s command. The woods came back into view, and Florence heard birds singing in the distance again, the babble of the river downhill.  

“What-” Gale gritted out “-just happened?”

“Better question, what is that?” Astarion pointed at the artifact clenched in Shadowheart’s fist, and she brought it to her chest possessively, taking a defensive stance. 

“Don’t look at me like that! I don’t know what’s happening any more than you do!”

“Nice one, Shadowheart!” Karlach clapped her on the back. “I think that thing in your pocket saved our asses.”

“Yes, but what in the hells is it?” Astarion demanded, rising to his feet. “Have you been keeping that trinket to yourself this whole time knowing it’s the only thing between us and sprouting tentacles?”

“What Astarion meant to ask, Shadowheart, is whether you might be a tad more generous with your explanation?” Well interjected. 

She groaned and balanced the artifact between her fingertips. 

“I serve Lady Shar.” She let out a heavy exhale. “I was tasked with bringing this back to my cloister in Baldur’s Gate for her at any cost. My memories have been repressed, and this mission requires the utmost secrecy. If I reach my contact in the city, I’ll have my memories restored, but until then, I have to guard this thing with my life,” she said bitterly. “There. You have the truth, for all it’s worth.”

“It appears we do.” Astarion murmured, eyeing the artifact with interest. “Worshiping the Dark Lady, tsk. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I can say no more, only that I can’t afford to fail.”

“Then I suggest we keep moving. We are wasting time speculating.” Lae’zel growled, pressing forward. 

“Yes, let’s.” Wyll said. “We came here to save the tieflings. The rest of this will have to wait.”

“I would have to agree with Wyll.” Gale grumbled as he stood and brushed himself off. He extended a hand, tugging Florence her to her feet, his touch lingering a bit longer than necessary. His harsh expression softened, and he blushed, turning away and continuing on. 

After crossing a bridge with the constructive integrity of a tree branch poised to snap, Florence smelled the camp before she stepped foot in it. It reeked of beer and strange meat, - humanoid by her assessment of its size - as it roasted it over the fire. Inebriated goblins crowded their path, and as they made their way through, Shadowheart became distracted by an owlbear cub, taking out her coin purse and bargaining with a goblin for its freedom. 

“Those things grow teeth and claws first, you know,” Gale warned. 

“Just-keep going. I’ll meet you at camp later. I have no interest in exploring some Selûnite temple.” The word came off her tongue like a curse as she nodded at a crumbling statue of the Moonmaiden near the temple’s entrance.

“I will not allow you to leave my sight while you hold the key that keeps us from becoming thralls, istik!” Lae’zel snarled. “I will remain as well. My creche shall cleanse me of the tadpole. I have no need for side quests.” 

With a roll of his eyes but not a word of objection, Wyll waved everyone else on. 

Once inside, they divided up their objectives: Karlach would address the drow running the camp, Minthara, while Wyll would look for the druid Halsin. 

Astarion, Florence, and Gale were tasked with dispatching the goblin High Priestess - Gut, as she was so eloquently called - but not before investigating whether she might heal them. As they rounded the corner, however, they stumbled across a bard they’d met at the Grove, in a cage. 

“We can’t just leave him.” Gale hissed to Astarion, who was eager to keep moving. “That’s the Vollo.”

“If I recall, you warned him of what the goblins were likely to do to him.” 

“Go pick the lock, Astarion,” Florence commanded. “Gale and I will handle Gut.”

The vampire sulked, but broke off, muttering something about needing a skeleton key under his breath. 

“He listens to you. Impressive.” Gale said as they descended a short staircase. 

“Residual guilt from killing me.” Florence said and smirked. The potion vials in her pack clanked together, catching the attention of a goblin woman standing near a makeshift altar for the Absolute. 

“Now here’s somebody special!” As she approached, Florence noted that her feathered shoulder pads were matted with blood. “The Absolute has touched you, hasn’t she?”

“I ah, yes. Yes, she has!” Gale gave a slight bow. 

“In Her name.” Florence added.

“Indeed. Now, Priestess Gut needs to touch you, hold out your arm so I can mark your flesh.”

“That won’t be necessary, surely.“ Gale stepped in front of Florence as she recoiled. “We need not wear such a brand to prove our faith.”

The priestess’ brows furrowed and there was the slightest brush against Florence’s mind, the tadpole wriggling as she reached for it. Next to her, Gale stiffened, presumably experiencing the same sensation. 

“There is something more to you, isn’t there? You’ve got something swimmin’ about in your head, don’t you?” Gut stuck a gnarled fingernail in her ear, “Maybe I can help you with that. Us True Souls got to look out for one another.”

Gale breathed a sigh of relief. “Your assistance in this matter would be wonderful. Right, Florence?”

“Right.” She said warily.

“Let’s deal with this in my chapel. In private. Don’t want this lot interfering with True Soul business,” the goblin priestess suggested. “One at a time, though.” Her eyes flitted between them and she pointed at Florence.

“You first.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Gale began, sensing her apprehension, “My companion and I would prefer to remain-”

“Do you want your ladyfriend to become a squiddie or not?” Gut snapped.

“She’s not-of course I-”

Florence set a hand on Gale’s wrist to silence him, and he nodded, eyes flicking between her and the priestess. 

“Right, of course. I’ll wait here.” A shadow of worry fell over his features and she gave his arm one final squeeze before following Gut to her chambers. The door slammed behind them and Florence flinched, concentrating on a shortlist of defensive spells. 

Priestess Gut picked a vial off a table and shoved it into Florence’s hands unceremoniously. 

“Drink this. It’ll cleanse you before the Absolute can touch ya.”

Florence sniffed at the elixir, picking up on the scent of werejackal blood. 

“This is a sleeping potion. Are you trying to trick-”

“No tricks! You want help or not?” Gut growled. 

Without arguing, Florence obediently removed the cap and downed the liquid. If she ended up dead, Withers could probably resurrect her again. Or maybe death would be a blessing in disguise.

Her consciousness drifted away, and her limbs felt lighter, weaker. With her remaining strength, she reached out to Gale through the tadpole, her mind as feeble as her legs beneath her, before she collapsed on the ground. 

Help.

Soon, she slipped into a sleep, and dreamt of a memory buried by grief, and the passing of time.

⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋆ . ⋅─ ✩ ─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅

“Gale Dekarios, are you aware your Tressym is terrorizing partygoers on the balcony?”

He turned in response to Florence’s tap on his shoulder, eyebrows raised as he smiled in recognition. He was dressed nobly for the Blackstaff ball, a black, fine linen shirt with an indigo, slim-fitted waistcoat affixed over it. His matching trousers were expertly tailored, stopping at the ankle above a pair of embellished leather shoes. Florence couldn’t help but wonder what kind of money his family had.

A light dusting of snow melted on the shoulder of his thick wool dress coat, layered over the ensemble, suggesting he had recently come in from outside. She noticed he now donned a single charm featuring the Lady of Mystery’s symbol on his left ear. Not unusual, but new for the wizard. 

“Florence! I wasn’t sure I’d see you here.” He glanced around her curiously. “Where’s your date?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have one. I’ve decided to show up and see what happens.” 

“Strange for you to come unprepared.” Gale jested.

“I could say the same to you. I don’t see anyone on your arm.”

“There was someone I’d wanted to ask, but she’s…rather elusive.” He answered with a grin. 

“A shame. And you even changed out of your Academy robes for her! I’m not sure she deserves you, Gale.” Florence teased. 

“Don’t discredit her so soon,” He chuckled, before lowering his voice. “Florence, I don’t want to alarm you, but Pierson Wenzel is staring at you.”

She spared a glance and grimaced.

“I promised him a dance earlier to get out of a conversation.”

“That guy? He can barely cast a cantrip! You can do better, surely.”

“I don’t doubt your judgment, Gale, but wizards are notoriously pretentious, and the good ones are all spoken for. My options are limited.” she glanced at the other couples around the room. Not a wallflower in sight. 

With a small bow, Gale offered his hand, his eyes twinkling as he looked up at her.

“If I’m not too pompous for you, I’d love to escort you for the evening. Perhaps I’ll be weaseling you out of a regrettable arrangement.”

Florence laughed. 

“And what do I tell Pierson?”

“To piss off.” 

“Gale. I can’t be that cruel-“ 

“Why not? He doesn’t seem bothered.”

He nodded again and Florence turned to find Pierson flirting with Estee Sagedust, a petite High Elf barely in her twentieth year of life. She was a head shorter than Florence, with curly blonde hair that fell down her back, and bright blue eyes that bore into Pierson’s as his hand trailed down her arm. Estee was the kind of beautiful kings waged wars over, and Pierson Wenzel was, as Gale noted, nothing spectacular. 

“Well, that makes things easier,” Florence said, “But shouldn’t we rescue poor Estee?”

“I watched her dump wine on a drunk at a party once and light him on fire with a snap of her fingers. She’ll be just fine.” 

“Noted. But what about your missed connection? I wouldn’t want to stand in your way if she turns up.” 

Gale caught her by the wrist and guided her onto the dancefloor, clasping one of her hands in his while the other rested upon her hip. Placing her free hand against his chest to steady herself, Florence let him lead the dance, her skin flushing as he leaned down to murmur in her ear.

“Would you like to know a secret, Florence?”

“I do love secrets.” 

As the music played, Gale waltzed with her casually, his hand sliding upward to fit perfectly at her waist. She could see heads turn, her peers gossiping.

“You already know her quite well.” 

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back suspiciously.

“I thought it was obvious. I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party, but you always seem to be surrounded by friends or otherwise occupied. Or more recently, completely absent. You’ve been missing from classes, the dining hall…where have you been?”

Averting her eyes, she focused on a couple dancing a few steps away. The ballroom was exquisite. Marbled floors, walls and ceilings, embellished with gold accents and burgundy drapery. Blackstaff Tower could hardly compare, nor hold such a large gathering, so one of the local nobles had offered their place of residence, as was tradition. Who, Florence wasn’t certain. 

“I came down with a cold earlier in the week.” The lie came to her easily, just like every other time in her life. 

“Nothing serious, I hope? Or contagious?” Gale leaned in close with a roguish grin, “Not that you aren’t worth the risk.”

Florence halted, staring with her mouth agape. 

“Gale…I-”

He took her hand again, pulling her against him a bit more firmly, but still loose enough that she had an out should she choose to take it. 

“We’re just dancing, Florence. That’s all this is,” he reassured her playfully. His confidence seemed to falter ever so slightly, but the mask slipped back into place as she allowed him to resume the dance. 

“Just dancing.” She echoed. In this light, he was as handsome as she’d ever seen him, brown hair meticulously arranged in half bun, the rest cascading along his neck, just short of his shoulders. His beard was trimmed, little more than stubble, reminding her of how it scratched against her cheek when she kissed him the night of the party.

Florence swallowed hard. Admittedly, she’d been avoiding him, humiliated by her actions. She didn’t want a reputation for being messy, and had no desire for recklessness and impulsivity anymore. 

She’d learned her lesson when she’d opened that portal in her dorm room a week ago. 

Over the last seven days, she had been hiding in her room, claiming to be ill and letting friends leave food and books outside of her door. Truthfully, she was petrified to step foot in public, plagued with Haarlep’s use of her form over and over the first few nights, worried she’d be unable to stifle a moan, or worse, during classes. But loneliness was getting the better of her, and she had a tendency to unravel when she gave into her agoraphobia. Tonight was a challenge, an opportunity to test the waters after a week of what she’d hoped was the incubus losing interest.

“I’ve come on too strong, haven’t I?” Gale asked, disappointment evident in his tone.

“No!” Florence shook her head emphatically and curled her fingertips over the breast of his waistcoat. “Just…lost in thought.”

He stopped in place, still holding her hand between his thumb and forefinger, and inclined his head towards the balcony. 

“How about some fresh air? I believe Tara’s finally given up on her attempts at chaperoning.” 

“Air sounds lovely.” Florence beamed, letting him lead her from the dancefloor. “Is she always so…motherly, towards you?”

Gale snorted as he opened the glass-paned door for her, and she stepped into the chilled winter air. “Morena Dekarios is motherly enough. Tara is….loyal. And enthusiastic. But not without good cause. I summoned her when I was a boy as an act of defiance. I had seen a basket of kittens at the Waterdeep market one morning, and when my parents denied me one, I took matters into my own hands.” 

“Ambitious.” Florence responded, sitting on a nearby bench and adjusting her dress around her ankles. “Were you always such a precocious child?”

Gale removed his coat and threw it over her shoulders. “I’ve…been lucky to study magic at the caliber I have for a very long time.” He took a seat beside her with a grunt, leaving just enough space to rest his palm against the stone surface, leaning in closer. “What about you?”

Florence gathered the coat more tightly around her. “I started studying when I was twelve. I wasn’t summoning Tressyms, but I did singe my mother’s eyebrows once.” 

“Ha!” Gale rubbed his hands together, blowing into them to warm them. “Is your mother a spellcaster?”

“Not even a little. Her family teases her that for as much as she neglects her Elvish heritage, Angharradh should remove the tips of her ears. But she’s been more than supportive of my ambitions.”

“And your father? What’s his story?”

“He left.” Florence said. “When I was seven.”

“Apologies. I know that story all too well.” Gale said bitterly. After a moment of silence, he chuckled. 

“Well, this is hardly a lighthearted conversation.” He stood, offering Florence his hand, and led her to the edge of the balcony. She leaned out over the railing, letting the winter air cool her flushed cheeks. Underneath them on the lawn, snow capped trees swayed in the breeze, depositing a thin layer of white on the icy ground below. The moon rose high over silver clouds, shining through a dim fog and illuminating the faint creases around Gale’s eyes as he squinted at it. 

“I’d like to kiss you again sometime, if you’d let me.” He said, watching her from the corner of his eye. 

Florence inhaled slowly to disperse the butterflies that soared in her stomach. 

“Oh.” 

Gale shook his head, a huff of steam from his nose visible in the cold air as he stared at his feet. 

“That was too forward, wasn’t it? It’s just that…” he turned to her, bracing a palm against the railing and tilting his head to the side. “It’s a shame we weren’t sober for the last one.”

Florence studied him. “You’re being gentlemanly. I was the only one inebriated that evening.” She inched closer. “But I appreciate your chivalry.”  

Gale reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand, the other coming to her waist as he stooped down, giving her a chance to change her mind. 

“I failed to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

His lips parted, just inches from hers, the fog of their breath mingled in the air between them as he hesitated. 

“Gale?” Florence’s eyes darted over his shoulder.

“Yes?” He asked, his lips brushing against hers. 

“Someone wants your attention, I think,” she nodded towards an elderly gentleman, tapping his foot behind him. The man cleared his throat in agreement.

Florence pulled back, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, rubbing the side of her neck. Gale squeezed his eyes shut, vexed by the interruption.

“Is there a reason you’re interrupting my evening, Elminster?”

Florence whirled back around. 

“I’m sorry, is that Elminster Aumar?” she hissed. 

The old man gave her an impassive look before addressing Gale. “I hate to interrupt, but she’d like a word, m’boy.”

Gale opened his mouth to speak, but was at a rare loss for words. His guilty expression settled on Florence.

“My most sincere apologies. I... have an urgent matter I must attend to.”

“He’s Mystra’s Chosen.” she mouthed. 

“I know.”

“Is he talking about…have you met her?”

Elminster cleared his throat again.

“Wait for me. I’ll find you later.” Gale tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a small smile on his lips. “Keep the coat. It suits you.”

As he disappeared with the archmage back into the crowded ballroom, Florence felt a familiar warmth ignite in the base of her spine, warming her core, and rising in her throat like bile.

“No, no, no-”

She desperately clutched Gale’s coat to her form, and the notes of his cologne - a subtle mix of whiskey, cinnamon, and something woody - only worsened her unwanted arousal.

Florence rushed across the ballroom floor and down the spiral staircase, her heels clicking against marble and echoing through the corridor as she raced towards the exit. Mumbling fire incantations at the icy cobblestone streets of Waterdeep, she ran to her dorm, slamming the door behind her when she finally made it up the stairs and inside. 

She spent the evening writhing in her bed, and when Haarlep had finished, Florence didn’t go looking for Gale Dekarios. Instead, she drew a scalding hot bath and eased herself in, scrubbing her skin raw. Despite turning a bright shade of pink, it still didn’t feel clean.

She lost track of time, and when Gale knocked on her door and called out her name, she submerged herself under the water’s surface, waiting for the muffled sound of his voice to disappear. Once he was gone, she crawled out, and with a trembling hand, snatched a folded letter he’d slid under the door.

Her fingers traced over her name, and she hurled it into the fireplace with a heart-wrenching sob, watching the flames consume it, along with any hope that the incubus would ever grant her enough peace to form romantic connections.

How could she possibly admit to someone like Gale, Mystra’s next Chosen, how foolish she had been? She had been deceived, her body traded for the hollow confirmation that she would never see her father again. She didn’t even belong to herself anymore.

Erik Ashveil had sacrificed his freedom, only for his daughter to make her own body a prison.

Each evening that followed, Florence ritualistically scrubbed at her skin until the bathwater ran red. When that didn’t dispel the invisible filth on her body, the phantom touch of Haarlep’s lovers, she evoked flames to burn herself. She locked her door, refusing to eat, attend classes, or open it for anyone.

Even when Gale pleaded from the hall for three consecutive nights, she couldn’t bring herself to give him the courtesy of an explanation. On day four, his footsteps faded away, and he didn’t return. 

On day five, Blackstaff Safahr forcefully entered her room, gasping in horror at the sight before her.

On day six, for her own good, Florence was dismissed from her studies and sent home. 

⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋆ . ⋅─ ✩ ─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅

“Wakey wakey! The Absolute wants to know all about that critter in your head. Start talking!” 

Florence roused after receiving a sharp kick in the ribs, her face plastered against the cold stone floor of the temple, wrists bound securely at her back. Blood dripped from her nose and over her lips, some fresh, some dried. She rose to her knees, glaring at the priestess as she tested her chains. To her dismay, they were far too secure to slip out of. 

“Have a nice nap?” The goblin struck her across the face so hard she saw stars. “How you haven’t turned into a squiddie by now, I don’t know, but you’ll make a tasty supper-”

Blood sprayed over the floor before her, and Florence jerked her head up to find Gale with a dagger in hand, the priestess’ throat slit as he panted over her. Gut gurgled desperately, clinging to life before going still. Gale turned pale and dropped the blade, letting it hit the floor with a clang.

“Are you alright?” He knelt behind her and muttered a spell of knock to free her from her restraints. 

“I’m fine.” Florence rubbed her wrists as the chains fell away. “A knife, Gale? Have you ever even…?”

“Killed someone by non-magical means? No. I’d not killed anyone until a ten-day ago. Unfortunately, I’m getting used to it.” He wiped his bloodied hands on his robes and shook his head. “With the orb the way it is, I’m trying to conceal magical energy. However, I don’t think my next calling will be as a rogue.” He said grimly, looking at the sloppy cut he’d made in the goblin’s throat. 

Florence shuddered, her mind flooded with intrusive thoughts as she remained kneeling on the floor. The cut inside her cheek and her skinned knees would be highly susceptible to infection, and the contusion to the side of her temple-

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Gale cocked his head and examined her.

Florence nodded. “Fine. Just a strange dream, that’s all.”

“Sleeping draughts are miserable. I usually end up in some stage of sleep paralysis.” He extended his hand and help her up. She stumbled into him and Gale caught her by the shoulders, steadying her, before crooking a finger under her chin, lifting it so their eyes met. His smile was a comfort, and for a moment, her mind went silent. She ached for that moment on the balcony, their lips only a breath from touching, to know what he’d written in that letter she’d discarded into the hearth…

Gale released her, opening the chamber door and waving her on. 

“Let’s get you out of here. The others can figure this goblin mess out.”

⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋆ . ⋅─ ✩ ─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment/kudos on AO3 or a note here if you did!

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 9 - alt. Lightning Strike

I legit couldn't think of anything to do for bees that wasn't too similar to something I've already written, so here's this instead.

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 1,063

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

“What kind of ugly ass scars are those?”

Denki hides his body for a reason. 

“It looks like you were struck by lightning, is it from your quirk, Kaminari?”

They’re ugly, he knows they are. 

“Kaminari, can you move? Your skin is freaking me out.”

People with mutant quirks are treated well at UA, especially the powerful ones like Shouji and Tokoyami. Physical differences mean little to nothing when you can kick anyone’s ass who gives you crap. 

But Denki’s scars are different. They’re completely his fault. 

Every time he goes stupid with overexertion, his quirk fires off at random intervals. Since he’s not conscious to prepare for it, it creates these lines in his skin. Lichtenberg figures, they’re called. 

They’re raised, dusty pink lines on his skin, wrinkled and perpetually tingling. They stretch out all over him, centered on his inner forearms and chest, where his quirk focuses on output. They follow a senseless pattern, weaving across his skin. He used to have a lot of freckles on his body, but many of them have been overtaken. 

When new electricity pulses through them, they get hot and irritated for days after. Denki has to sleep sitting up, leaning over his giant Pikachu plush. It’s tear-stained, looking just about as miserable as he feels on those nights. 

He changes in the showers in the locker room, hiding away from his closest friends. People he trusts with his life. 

Bakugo always looks at him weirdly when he refuses to take off his long sleeves. The guy has some pretty gnarly scars himself; All won in hard-fought battles. Each one tells a story of badassery that Denki could never dream of reaching. 

Just yesterday, during training, he’d overworked himself again. The figure going up his back took the beating and crawled up just past his costume collar. Good thing Todoroki has single-handedly made turtlenecks come back in fashion. 

He’s angry at his weakness and frustrated at his lack of control. 

Shoving his costume in its case, he tugs his long-sleeved sweater down self-consciously.

A gruff voice calls his name, and he curses when the sudden movement his neck makes sends an arrow of pain down his back. 

“Hey man,” He smiles, “what’s up?”

Bakugo’s eye twitches, and before he can so much as breathe, Denki is dragged to the empty offices in the gym. 

“Uhh,” He falters, tripping at the last step before he’s gently (for Bakugo) shoved into a wall. 

“Roll up your sleeves.” His classmate sneers, crossing his arms and glancing to the door as if expecting someone to interrupt and ruin whatever intervention is happening. 

Denki frowns, tucking his hands behind his back and trapping them against the wall. “Kind of a weird request, dude. Do you mind explaining before I strip for you?”

Bakugo flushes, eye-twitching, “You’re stalling, fuckface. I’m not- fuck,” He sighs, glancing to the door again, “I’m not letting you walk out of here if you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Oh,” Denki blinks slowly. He’s not wrong, but he’s only doing what they all do during training, “It’s just collateral. I’m fine, Bakugo.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“What the fuck about cutting yourself is collateral, you fucking moron!”

“Cutting my-” Denki mumbles, looking down at his arms. Is that what Bakugo thought?

Huh. 

He looks up at Bakugo suspiciously, “Are you the one who stole my exacto knife and my scissors? Bakugo, I’m not doing that. It’s just scarring from my quirk, like Kirishima’s eye.” He sits on that for a second, “Well, I guess Midoriya’s arms would be a better analogy.”

He brings his arms forward and tugs his sleeves up, exposing his wrists for Bakugo to inspect. “See? From the electricity.”

Bakugo squints, aggressively taking one of his wrists as he’s been given a time limit. 

“How come you cover them then?” He grunts, letting go when satisfied. 

Denki rolls his eyes, “They’re ugly, Bakugo. I’m not blind.”

“Well, as long as you fuckin’ know. Loser.” Imaginary Bakugo jeers, shoving Denki into the wall again and exiting swiftly… Probably giving him a middle finger. 

In reality, he just kind of… stands there. 

After a few moments of silence Denki is far too weirded out to stay quiet. “Uh… dude?”

Bakugo blinks, looking back down at Denki’s arms and grabbing at one to pull up to his face again. He investigates them, eyes darting over the skin, where the thickest of the figure is. “It’s not ugly.”

Um, what?

“Um, what?”

Bakugo tsks at him, waving his own arm in his face, “I said they’re not ugly. Where’d you even get that idea?”

Denki sweetie, Haru’s mom said your arms scared him, so you have to keep the jacket on for the whole play date, okay?

What are you, fifty? What’s with the gross wrinkles?!

Do you, like, wear a full surfer suit when you swim?! If I were you I wouldn’t let anyone see me without a shirt!

No, you sit by him! If he shocks me I’ll look like that!

Denki sighs, leaning back against the wall, “Everyone says that, dude. Since my quirk manifested and I went stupid for the first time.”

Bakugo’s nose scrunches like he smells something bad, “They’re fuckin’ stupid. You’re just like anyone else with scars. Everyone in our class has some, it’s part of the damn job.”

“Yeah, but mine are-”

“Normal, dipshit.” Bakugo interrupts, waving his hand at Denki, “If anyone in our class says shit, I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em. Only thing ugly about you is your stupid face. Always smiling. It’s gross.” 

Denki can’t help but blush in response. He thinks that’s the closest Bakugo’s ever come to complimenting him! Even if it was just followed by an insult. 

“Aw, thanks Kacchan,” He grins when the tips of Bakugo’s ears pinken. 

“You’re fucking stupid. Are you gonna quit moping now?”

Denki nods, grinning eagerly, “You bet, and I’ll show some skin just for you!”

Bakugo flushes bright red, “Wh- that’s not! Fuck you!!”

Denki giggles, skirting around his fuming classmate before he blows up the office they’ve borrowed. “See you, Kacchan.”

He pauses by the door, catching his hand on the frame, “And thanks, by the way, I appreciate it.”

Bakugo shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Whatever dunce face, I better see you in the locker room tomorrow.”

“You know it!”

[fullmetal-scar-simping]

Loving the new AU that's come out of the asks and specifically Greed's role in it, which just made me remember that actually Greed/Scar is a top-tier shape even though I've no idea how to write a story for them - I just found some really good fanart of them including an NSFW doujinshi that had me thinking😩

Something I find intriguing about Greed/Scar is the idea of them perhaps meeting before Scar begins to actively use alchemy and killing state alchemists (thus blaspheming against God)

We have some time between the murder of Scar's family and Scar's hot girl state alchemist killing spree; given the state of his injuries, he must have spent at least some months more recuperating somewhere in secret (and alone😭😭😭 Kimblee, when I fucking GET you 🔪) and I think it'd be nice in a Greed/Scar scenario if they meet during this short period of time...

...which leads to the idea that's been hounding me and that is Scar, before he loses his name and turns away from God, sharing his name one last time and actually perhaps giving Greed a real human name rather than that of a deadly sin😩

I too come from a culture where names are exceptionally important; we particularly value given names and routinely change our surnames to honour different ancestors - half my older sisters and cousins have a surname derived from a great-grandfather, but I and my younger cousins have a surname derived from a grandfather because we were born after his death

(Yeah, it's an actual nightmare when we travel abroad for any reason because one family shouldn't have this many surnames for seemingly arbitrary reasons, but it's a nice way to honour the dead so we keep doing it😤)

And I just really like the idea of something nice happening to Scar once - like being treated with some respect and caring after the extermination - and Greed not only gets to interact with a person unassociated with F*ther's government, but he himself is humanised when Scar bestows unto him a name

I also like the idea of Scar back in his priestly days helping parents pick names for their children by consulting holy texts, religious tales, and classical Ishvalan poetry for inspiration🫶 I think his own parents put a lot of care naming him and his brother, so he's just as careful when naming newborn babies (or a swagged-up homunculus fhjshd)

Apologies for this rambling ask btw😩 I just saw that other post and was struck with old Greed/Scar feelings🙏🏻

Whoa hey, anon, what's this about nsfw Greed/Scar? 👀👀👀 Only group/artist I know who does nsfw Greed/Scar doujins is Huujin (Shoshinsha Man), and from there I've only managed to find only one of their Greed/Scar-specific comics uploaded anywhere. They've definitely got waaaay more than the one tho, from the covers of their non-uploaded works I've seen. So if you've got the hookup to more art or doujins, I'd love the links pls <3

All that being said: Greed/Scar, it's a good ship! Underrated as hell, as most anything to do with Scar is, unfortunately.

[The AU in reference, this ask came about soon after this ask was first answered. I just took 100 years to properly respond.]

[The rest of the reply after the jump]:

I often think about what each version of Scar had to go through upon recovering from their injuries and the fresh trauma they had suffered too. Going into hiding would be unfortunately necessary given the animosity of both Amestrians and the surrounding nations against Ishvalans. In the chaos of Amestris' bombardment, with Ishvalan survivors scattering to whatever (highly relative) safety they can find, Scar may not have had much luck encountering other Ishvalans. He must have been utterly alone that entire time. Let alone how long the recovery could take, given the lack of supplies refugees are forced to contend without, and the injuries almost everyone has suffered. Besides, given the horror of his brother's arm and the evidence of alchemy writ across its flesh, I doubt Scar would want to stick around with any Ishvalan camps he may have managed to encounter on his journey westward. And self-ostracization is a lousy salve for so many wounds. Factor in the concussion from the explosion, and he would be out of commission for awhile.

Hiding as a derelict in Amestris' back alleys in that time, before he decides to (and can) take action against the murderers who live cushy lives in the country he's been forced to roam; he's a vagabond, travelling between towns, districts, and regions within Amestris, surviving but with great difficulty. It's all a haze, seeing as nowhere is safe. Everything is alien, and somatic pain governs his more base decisions. Scar could easily have ended up in or around Dublith; Greed or any one of his people could have stumbled upon this displaced recluse. (Unless you're seeing it more like Greed finding Scar while away from Dublith.)

So I agree, it's a ripe scenario for those two to meet. Since Scar hasn't had any violent run-ins with other homunculi, he may feel less fight or flight upon first encounter. Given that Greed is witnessing someone grievously wounded and otherwise despondent, I doubt he would react with any kind of animosity. He has a soft spot for society's rejects.

Any opportunity to access shelter, food, clean water, and other basic amenities while in recovery would be extremely useful for Scar. Even if the company that comes with it might chafe against his acute philosophies. I can see Greed almost being pushy about the arrangement: perhaps he's being unwittingly generous, or he may be jumping on the opportunity to add yet another member to the Devil's Nest. His grandstanding about his own Sin-as-Self motto and all that he desires would clash so nicely with Scar's former dedication to living within a tight moral framework. But how does that discordance affect the active erosion his religious fortitude? Having survived a genocide would be more than enough to follow through on the blasphemy he will enact in retribution for his murdered loved ones. But what potential effect would being around Greed have in all of this?

Oough, this is just *chef's kiss*! The ingredients here can make a dish so tasty. But the coup de grace you have here? The sharing of Scar's original name before shedding it, feeling just safe enough with this bizarre, grandiose man with teeth too sharp and ambitions too preposterous, who offered him care when he was at his lowest? And Scar feeling that Greed's name is inadequate for the more endearing qualities this man (this homunculus) possesses, so he mulls over a new name for him? And gives it to him? And Greed's reaction to all of this, how maybe he initially finds the whole thing odd and unnecessary. "Don't you know what I am? I'm Avarice embodied!" But Scar won't entertain this chicanery. He offers the new name to him as thanks and with the assurance that he cannot reduce someone who had shown him so much hospitality as a walking sin. Not when Scar has experienced Amestris' greatest acts of extreme violence. Greed, the individual, is some of the good that survives in this land.

Would Scar still honour the homunculus this way, if he had known that Greed's very existence stems from the central point of this imperial machine? Greed of course knows this, he knows the truth, but this former monk is so certain of him, of some value Greed never bothered to assess himself (or didn't want to, or couldn't, not when he's one persona amongst 6 other malevolences)- Scar talks about the significance of a name, how it can be cherished, that it need not be given freely if he doesn't wish it. Whatever he chooses to do with this gift, it's his if he should find need or solace in it. And maybe Greed does. And maybe bearing the death of this wounded man's birth name, uttered one last time before being buried, the burial itself a symbol of nascent Sin. An exchange: one briefly absolved of their Sin, the other newly embodying Sin. And, and an,d- 🥺

You just had to hit me with the description of Scar's previous priestly duty regarding names and how he refers to a variety of literature and holy texts! So many people would grow up with these thoughtful names he had helped select! Some who had survived the massacres continue to hold those identities dear, his labour of care for Ishval's young extending far beyond Amestris' grasp. While those who remain carry the memories of those Scar may have once christened who had been lost to the slaughter- My heart 😭

(Homunculi who are GOATed with the sauce, on par with newborn babies lmfaoooooo)

I am digesting all of this and metabolizing it into my neurons. Anon! This is so good! Thank you for these "rambling" asks as always. 😌

[deadqueernoldor]

End of Year Fic Recs!

I got tagged by @camille-lachenille for this, and boy I havent had time to read fic in a hot minute but this was literally the perfect opportunity to go through my ao3 and tumblr bookmarks again! Also I feel really bad that I couldnt get 5 for the first 3 categories, so pls dont take it personal if I forgot. My tagging system is a mess and idk if it works but if you want more tumblr writing recs go into the "writing that has me foaming out the mouth like a rabid dog" tag I have at the top of my account.! There's so many good drabbles and ficlets i couldnt possibly name them all! Also i likely could have tagged other author's tumblr accs but i didn't feel like looking bc I'm exhausted. I love these all sm

Also I cheated with the self rec bc one is from 2022 but I didnt want to rec only my OC lol

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Beneath a Boundless Sky by @runawaymun — ongoing — Rating (M)

Summary: Elrond’s two new wards both struggle to feel at home in Rivendell. The wounds from their slavery in King Frumgar’s court are still fresh, and the scars are deep -- and they’re not the only ones. Maglor is home at last, but each day he lives he is haunted by guilt and grief. Elrond is nothing if not patient, and he is certain that given enough time in Rivendell, all three will heal.

I am always frothing at the mouth at OCs and world building and this work *and the prev work/part 1 of the series* is SO good

dare you see a soul at the white heat? by millyfaraway — ongoing — Rating (M)

Summary: Lómion is reembodied, but struggles to cope. His uncles try to help.

BABY BOY GETS FAMILY THERAPY ABBY BOY SLOWLY GETS CONFIDENCE AND PUPPY LOVE SOBBIG ITS WHAT HE DESERVES anyway go read

The Last Heir of Fëanor - Part Two by Astrance — 87k — Rating (T)

Summary: This is the second part of the tale of the surviving child of Celebrimbor of Eregion and how she fared through the Ages of the world. From the Fall of Ost-in-Edhil to Imladris and the vastness of Second Age Eriador, the fight against Sauron seems never ending. Plans have been set in motion across the Misty Mountains, but, in Lindon, many tasks await.

Have I mentioned how much I love OCs? This is literally one of the best OCs I've read, flaws and all, and the way the whole thing is written is chefs kiss. Cant decide if I'm sweating from the amount of sobbing I've done with this work *and the previous/first part* or because of the delicious angst.

and rain will make the flowers grow by @swanmaids — 800 — Rating (G)

Summary: Glorfindel and Idril; on the Helcaraxë, in Nevrast, in Gondolin.

THEM. THEM. THEM. That's all I have to say. bUT THEM!

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

your veins are empty of dust by @echo-bleu — 1.7k — Rating (G)

Summary: Anairë finds her late one day in her workshop, surrounded by slabs of stone larger than her. Nerdanel is hammering forcefully at one of them, the barest hints of an elven shape already taking form in the marble. Bitter, stinging tears run down her cheeks and into her collar, and her arms ache with exhaustion.

The body is only barely sketched, but the face is already chiselled, smooth curves and angular cheekbones.

Fëanáro emerges out of the marble, looking like he’s about to take life.

(Across the sea, her sons lead a funeral.)

Frothing. Gnawing. I love the writing. The angst. Fucking mourning. Gimme all and then hurt me some more.

Babysitting #01 by @lordgrimwing — more chaps likely, atm oneshot

Excerpt: "She brought her children."

"Who did?”

"That Elwing woman, the pro bono case Celegorm talked me into."

Modern!scenario fix with Exhausted!lawyer!maedhros. He's tired and that's very sexy of him. Maglor is secy. They all are. Idiots. But very sexy. Elrond and Elros best boys. No argument.

Dreams of Doom by @camille-lachenille — 3.8k — Rating (M)

Summary: “She runs in the dark, alone. Where her feet carry her, she knows not, and her heart is heavy with dread. Someone - something - is watching her.”

Niënor from the moment she arrives in Brethil to her death.

THE ANGST THE LOVE THE TENDERNES THE FORESHADOWING I AM BITING THIS BC I CANT FIND GLASS TO CHEW.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies.)

Those Peaceful Hours by SpaceWall — 3.9k — Rating (T)

Summary: At the end of the Third Age, faced with her impending return to the home she left before the sun, Galadriel seeks out the one person who will understand her fears and grief.

It's so well written and the premise as a whole is so great!. Compelling and Galadriel characterisation is just so very sexy to me.

Their oath will drive them, and yet betray them by musing_and_writing — 2.2k — Rating (G)

Summary: Elrond had hours to spare, and if Maglor wished to spend the short time they had together reminiscing, he would not blame him for it. As Maglor began singing, Elrond settled himself across the clearing in his own bed of autumn flowers. Maglor’s voice resounded in the clearing, clear and powerful, just as it had upon his fortress’s ramparts as he pushed back Morgoth’s forces with a Song, just as Elrond assumed it must have echoed before the poisoning of the Trees in his family’s halls as Feanor crafted his cursed jewels.

Hehehehehe cryptid mf with a heart I love it the angst the tenderness it's just so *holds gently* while also *bodychecks maglor*

Double The Baggins, Twice The Took by fogisbeautiful — 138.5k — Rating (T)

Summary: The Baggins twins, Briallen and Bilbo, have spent their whole lives taking care of each other. So when the world outside makes an (uninvited) appearance, only one thing is certain. Not for wizard or king or mountain or dragon will the two of them part. Not if they have one word to say about it.

And besides, as Gandalf points out: It never hurts to have a spare burglar on hand.

I'm a sucker for Thorin x hobbit, and you give me a fic with bilbo's sister who's so lovely characterized? I'll kiss you sloppy style

The One With All The Birds by clothonono — 46.5k — Rating (G)

Summary: Would it never end? Would there always be one more mother standing on the shore, looking out to sea, full of a grief made more terrible by hope?

Elwing and Nerdanel in Valinor in the Fourth Age; a story about children coming home.

I think swanmaids recc'd this to me once upon the time when it hadn't been finished and I want to kiss their forehead for it. It's so good! Go read bc I lick my screen every time I re-read it.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Bitter end — 6.4k — Rating (T)

Summary: Maglor has one brother left.

Both have one more fight in them.

The ghost you dress up as (knows how to haunt) — ongoing — Rating (M)

Summary: Maedhros was not the first Finwëan to be captured and taken to Angband, nor did he remain there the longest. Ranyatinwë, twin of Caranthir, was the first.

She escapes.

(Series) Old Maggie Took — 7 works — 402k — all Rating (G)

Summary: The headcanon about Maglor, second son of Fëanor, lives hidden in the Shire? Yes.

[lagncx]

past lovers pt2

Posting this here cause on Ao3 they like it but it was just supposed to be one thing but i decided why not. its such braindump anyway

Tw: Cazador, Astarions abusive past, gore, the underwater prison blowing up, almost drowning, y/n being a bit of a masc fem.

Wc: 2.k

    You fell back into the fog head ringing, you frowned, lungs begging for air.  “My love?!” Astarion. You couldn’t see the fog dense and heavy and it didn’t help you were stuck in a flooding prison death trap. You looked around feeling something heavy on your stomach must’ve been a pile of fallen debris. You heard the groaning of the structure and the sound next to you fog dissolving. You saw the sea on the other side of the glass. It was on its last leg slowly cracking itself open. The horn blaring and the red lights made your head only pulse more. “Darling?! Where are you?” You looked up water rising slowly to your eyes, the salt from it covering your lips. You focused on the figures. Karlach, Tav, shadowheart. Good good…they’re getting out. You were a lost cause. You looked back up at the cracking glass watching the animals swim gracefully. You smiled, then the sound of water splashing came close you looked up at Astarion stood over you “Star…star What're you?” He only got on his knees trying to pull the thing up “Well don’t just stare, help me!” He groaned. You pushed the piece of steel up from you. Water rising “Astarion you have to go, the water! It’s-“ he just shook his head “No! I’m not just gonna leave you here to die, you can perish the thought.” His hand slipped and he fell back making the debri fall back into its place atop of you. “Star…my love. It’s okay just go, we freed the prisoners, it's okay.” You smiled.

  Astarion tried to think of a plan but all of a sudden he was sprayed by water. “The glass! Astarion! Get ou-“ suddenly there was a wave that hit the sound alone making your ears bleed. You caught a glimpse of Astarion being washed away by the current. You screamed for him but the only thing you could hear was the water covering your screams. You were content on dying. Astarion dying however. Was not an option. You pushed against the steel the water making it more light as it helped with the current your arms shook with the force. You yelled kicking against the debri freeing yourself as the water carried you through the prison. Your side hit a wall, the pain making you gasp water invading your lungs before you ended up pushed into a room you swam to the top coughing the water looking around “Darling!” You snapped to see Astarion his hair flat atop his head swimming to you. “Are you alright” you said pulling him to you an arm around his waist, tight around his waist his hands rested on your shoulders “I’m okay just…” you looked down at the water seeing the mix of red “It’s alright…just a flesh wound” you only let out a whimper “oh…My star your bleeding lemme see” you pulled him to a piece of fallen ceiling sitting him on it “darling…it’s okay” he said. You swam behind him hoisting yourself up and started to pull off his shirt “Let me be the judge of that” you scoffed and he just shook his head “No, no. Darling I’m alright” he said grabbing your hand you just shook your head “Astarion just let me look” you whispered. You’ve seen his body before many times, passionate nights, hot baths, and late cuddles. So what was the matter. 

  He held on tightly to your hand smiling that stupid manipulative false smile that he’d use on little naive people but you…he better not do that shit again. You let out a breath through your nose. Glaring at him “Astarion. Why can’t you just Let me fucking help you for once!” You yelled his smile went away and his ears fell, his eyes looking up at you before he let go of your hand and turned around letting his back face you. 

  You slowly took off the shirt carefully with the wound and you wondered if your eyes deceived you, scars. Not just any, it was a ritual. Something like that. Astarion shook under your gaze his back changing shape as his breathing got heavy. Guilt,shame,embarrassment. You started to sob. His ear twitched as he looked at you “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” You whispered “that I wasn’t there to protect you, to love you. I don’t know what happened you won’t tell me. When I was gone…I missed you it almost made me give up. But I didn’t wanna disappoint you, or your family. Now look…I couldn’t protect you,I don’t even know who did this. If I did I’d tear them apart!” You sobbed eyes burning with tears and hatred but once you calmed down you hid your face into his neck pulling him close. Astarion looked down at that black mess of wet hair. His heart even if it wasn’t beating felt heavy with love, and loss of many many years with you. 

  How could he even tell you…everything. If he told you about Cazador, the gur. Everything, surely you’d leave…surely you’d think of him as a monster. No…no he won’t let you leave. “It’s not your fault my love…” he whispered “It’s…nobody’s fault. Sometimes monsters get those who are the most vulnerable” Astarion whispered unsure of what he was saying. He turned to you and held your head up kissing you which you didn’t back away but didn’t return your face unemotional. “No, no! Don’t turn off your damn feelings when you feel bad. Stop doing that…it’s okay. You're not a knight, or a killer. You're you, my wife, my lover. Gods…what did training do to you?” He kissed you again a few times before you returned it slight whimpers emerging from you and tears. He shushed you whispering comforting words “hush my sweet…I’m alright.”  before climbing into your lap to embrace you and kiss you again. Lips soft compared to your scared ones, skin cold compared to your warmth. Seems the gods allowed Astarion one thing. Forever love. You held him tightly, kissing him back deeply, his head tilting back as he got lost into you. Then everything was calm. Astarion pulled away and smiled brushing your hair with his fingers “I’ll be happy…to die here.” He whispered “In your arms…together never to be bothered again.” He inhaled the scent of your hair, his voice was so…soft especially when talking to you he never yelled at you. Always keeping a low tone in past arguments, always soft and sweet when close, and high and sickeningly arousing in bed. For him…like you said death is not an option. You pushed him off you gently, making him raise a brow. You looked around before looking above you. A sky light leading to the water. “No need to wait for this place to blow. I’ll just do it myself. Be ready alright hold onto me.” You said standing up astarion doing the same and clinging onto you waiting for whatever this was. You were tired and all your magic juice was used. You tried your best to get your mind to conjure up a missle attack but it just felt like pain. Till you heard whispers of a spell astarions hand pressing down on your chest your mental felt healed and your mind was clear. You looked at him and he smiled. You quickly grabbed his hand kissing it multiple times rubbing your face against it before whispering “Thank you my angel.” You put up your hand and focused only on getting out. Both of you. And being able to sleep in that stupid tavern again. You felt something shoot from your hand glass breaking water rushing through filling it quickly. “Star. We get more deep breaths okay” he nodded water already picking you both up to the top. “Darling I don’t know if I can.” He started “You can..you will. If not, I will help you. I won’t let you give up so soon.” You pulled him to you kissing him “Me give up? Impossible…I love you..” he whispered. You closed your eyes “I love you more.”

   It was time to take your last breath “okay my love keep yourself calm. Don’t worry. Are you ready? hold onto my hand.” With a countdown you both inhaled and started your swim. The water was illuminated by nothing. It was dark so you continued to swim in that same direction, feeling Astarion next to you keeping him steady from swimming in a circle. The blow from the prison structure causes a bit of a boost sending you both up but unfortunately turning you around. Your hand slipped and let go of Astarions which made you panic which made your heart beat faster and your lungs beg for air. You quickly cashed dancing lights looking around before feeling someone climbing up your leg and it was, star. Thank the gods.

   After a few more minutes you made it up, looking around for Baldurs gate. There it was not too far but gods it was. 

“Darling…I’m tired.” He said arms around you as you hoisted him on your back “it’s cause your wounded it’ll be okay when we get there.” Your body ached but for him you’d cut off your own head. You made your way to Baldurs gate. The water getting thick with oil and gunk Astarions weight was enough. The shore of the place was disgusting. You pulled yourself up onto the fishing docks, people watching your drenched form crawling with this man on your back, you flopped down breathing in the sweet air. Eyes adjusting to the light, seeing familiar faces, hearing familiar voices as they got closer.

——

  You opened your eyes the familiar loud bustling under the room in the tavern…elfsong. Safe. Astarion. You sat up only to be forced back down “Are you trying to put yourself in more pain. Stay still. Gods..” You looked up at the hair of white it was shadowheart , her hands hovered over your stomach, your upper half bare the debri that fell on you, broke a few things and all that swimming and being thrashed around by the water wasn’t doing it any good. “Shadowheart…Astarion where-“ you struggled looking around the room she just smiled at you “He’s alright, Halsin is treating him. He had a few bruises and broken bones and a deep cut.” She smiled you rested your head on the pillow. “Those scars…on his back.” She shushed you immediately “not my story to tell.” You just laid back “can I see him?” she shrugged “He won’t be much of an audience both of you need sleep” 

——

  You were awakening from the forced nap shadowheart put you in. A weight on your chest looking down there he was. Astarion. Laying on your side snuggled into you. head wrapped in bandages along with his side, his hand resting on your stomach. You sat up slowly making him snap up looking at you “Darling…you're awake. You still need to lay and rest…” he said, caressing your face. You shook your head “I’m okay…just need. To leave this place” You got out of the bed grabbing onto your night shirt pulling it on. Stumbling outside of the room Astarion on your tail. 

 You went outside the night air colder tonight you caught your breath seeing it in front of you as it faded into the air you kept walking praying to find some sort of privacy away from this structured city of hell. Astarion was right behind you “Darling please…you’ll get a cold.” He went to snatch your hand only making you grab his wrist pulling him close “Damn you, Astarion just leave me be!” You looked like you were struggling with your own breathing. Was this a panic attack? 

—- 

Astarion had your hand leading you into the park he hated even stepping in pulling you to sit down with him next to the tiny creek his eyes closed tiredly waiting for whatever this was to pass. 

 It was a silence…many words begging to be said. You were the first to say them. “What are those scars?” You whispered trying to stop any sense of coldness from your voice hoping he would understand your concern. He did and he scowled to himself the thought of what he went through that broke him…and it would break you. “You know im different than who I used to be? Don’t you?” You nodded. His pointer finger adorned with a small piece of jewelry he probably found turned your cheek to look at him like a cold touch to your never ending heat it cooled you down. Brought you back to reality. He’s  dead…no doubt about it. And he’s not a ghost or a hallucination because others see him. “Darling? Are you listening?” You looked up at him eyes wide “uhm- yes…” He shook his head “Well I was saying, Cazador found me on death's door and saved me by turning me into a vampire spawn promising me a home, protection from the outside world, and a family.” He said that last part, almost like venom melting his tongue. He laid a hand on your thigh “And I-…for 200 decades suffered. By his hand and he…my love I don’t want you to think of me as disloyal. Or that I didn’t think of you. You were always on my mind. But I didn’t think you’d even…come back for me.” He whimpered that last part but you shook your head pulling his face into yours for a soft kiss though your hands were Holding him tight so tight and he returned it before pulling away. Swallowing his spit he continued “he would use me for his bidding. He’d force me to…catch him prey bringing them in alive getting them vulnerable and he’d finish them off.” You saw the scenes behind his eyes that were watering as he stared at the water breathing growing uneven “My body…he had me seduce them use my body like it was a weapon, a damn tool! I can’t even look at myself if I wanted to but even if I could…All I’d see is my face rotting in disgust and my body being the victim of it, the cause of my disgust.” He gripped tightly onto your hands “that’s why I promised myself to never let someone have power over me. No more.” 

  You felt tears spill onto the dirt as you pulled him close sobbing into his shoulder “So…you don’t get to yell at me ever again okay?” He chuckled weakly. You rubbed his back pulling away. You kissed him feeling the way he let you lead it, hold onto the control but this wasn’t control, or power, this was trust, love. The only person he cared about other than his friends. Your hands softly pushed through his hair grazing his ears as they twitched from your touch making him giggle into your lips from the tickle of it, your hands softly traveled underneath his shirt stopping at his lower back his ears dropped he was completely gone in that kiss and so were you, when he started to move you followed like a drunk lovesick fool whining for him to stop making you chase his soft perfect lips. He gave you a warning nibble on the lip softly breaking the skin with only a small cut. Making you pull back from the shock he placed his two fingers on your lips before you could go back to the safety of his lips, you looked at him. “If you dragged me out here while injured for a make out session then I should kill you.” He frowned, scolding you. You shook your head “not convincing” he sighed “I just needed some air. So many thoughts and you said it wasn’t healthy to turn them off.” You said. Astarion smiled “well now you get to put those thoughts into my head. I’m here…always” you felt cold lips against your forehead.

——

well yea you could just read yk the first part but I think this stands out on its own maybe *stands next to the story like it’s a michealangelo statue carved into stone then it falls*

….I better get out of here

[star--nymph]

In regards to Dolly, was she just found? Did Artemis procure her by some unholy means or more just pure happenstance end up discovering her and then go, yes, mine, mine now, love this abomination against human existence, takin’ her home naming her Dolly and giving her all the things because how can he not when she’s that adorable. But also like is there a plan for her beyond grow and become what you wish, as I end up thinking, if she doesn’t have a focus like Artemis, will she not just become the greater danger if/when Kass puts a bullet in his head. Or is she like a hidden sleeper that if one could look beyond the lens of vengeance for a hot minute one might see that Artemis? Likely not the worlds worst possibly enemy to have for as absolutely wretched he is. If I’m interpreting Dolly’s bio correctly.

(tw- implied child abuse--and no not by Artemis)

Ho, okay so. To explain how Artemis got her means I have to explain Dolly’s entire thing in full, so sit back because this is going to get into some world building and cosmic nonsense.

(Side note: I love how every time someone asks about how Artemis got Dolly, it’s ‘WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO’ and ‘DID HE STEAL HER’ to which the short answer is no, this is very much a ‘I have fucked my self into a situation I can not fuck my self out of’)

So Eua’s creation and its many Elder Gods are shrouded in mystery. What’s known is at some point many eons ago, the elder gods that had physical manifestations had some kind of battle with each other and it reformed the planet. Some elder gods vanished, some supposedly went to sleep, and some dissolved and became one with the planet. The battles or perhaps the bodies themselves left behind pockets of scars, deep tainted holes that corrupting the land and creatures near it, becoming deadly to most other beings. Somehow, humanity sprung out of all this and built their world off what could be the very remains of their gods. Cities built on what could be giant chairs, expose hands, only temples, skulls, and arms. Humanity having to constantly fight and form their world against strange giant beasts that jump from endless festering holes, eventually uniting under one flag to battle against them. This is the climate that society on all fronts was based on with Eua. There are gods, there is some semblance of magic or power left over from them, and there are monsters that will kill you if you wander too close to these uninhabitable lands, if nature doesn’t kill you first. Hell, it’s why the military split into two fractions: the human fraction and the beast fraction (and yes being aside to the beast fraction is considered the worse of the two).

As a result of all this, religion is a funny thing on Eua. There’s not really a question of ‘is there a god’ because the answer is ‘yeah look out your damn window, I’m pretty sure your Vespa is parked in one’. The questions are more ‘why are the gods asleep’, ‘are they still alive?’ ‘Can they hear us?’ ‘Do they care?’. There’s also the concept of the abstracts of cosmic gods, one that they CANT see but know exist in theory, or the concept of death on Eua, in which most people believe that most souls turn into stars and some souls get stuck on the earth for one reason or another ghosts—and that evil souls rot in an empty abyss until they are rendered down to nothing by sheer weight of oblivion. I want to describe all this because I don’t want anyone to get the idea that religion on Eua is a bad thing or that its an atheist society. There are very much religion, the study of the gods, the respect and belief in the land itself, and they are varied and nuanced just like our world.

And THEN we get to underground cults. Now these guys are the little freaks who want to start playing with shit they shouldn’t. They want to name gods, contact them, harness their powers, even wake them up (which is insane because we’re talking beings that are anywhere from giant leviathans to FORMLESS CONCEPTS BEYOND HUMAN PALE). Some of this can be harmless, the equivalent of like using an oujia board and telling your friends that Jesus just spoke to your and he says buy more nfts. But then there’s the people that hide in what they believe are centers of powers deep underground and out of the sight of society—and some are depicted to the study and deep reflection of their chose god. But others go too far and start using any means to contact them.

(You're probably wondering where Artemis falls in between all this and the answer is none because Artemis doesn't ask for worship of a god, he's specifically demands worship of him. His platform is fuck the gods, I'm hotter and so are you.)

With that I can touch upon one specific cult known as the Cult of the Butterfly. Situated in a cave network and it’s temple carved into solid rock, the Cult of the Butterfly is dedicated to a creator entity known by several names: The Cosmic Weaver, The Reality God and the Butterfly. The Butterfly is a being believed to exist on a higher plane, weaving into reality both time and different worlds. It is one of many creators of gods, but it’s realm is that of sewing all universes into one big tapestry, never meeting but endlessly connected through the same threads and a singular hand. Occasionally, The Butterfly will take a physical form of a butterfly which wings encompass every color and light and fly through its realities. It's believed catching a glimpse of it in it's physical form will give you a glimpse of the scope of the cosmos (why you would want that is anyone's guess, though).

Reasonable, I suppose, that this cult exists except it's main desire isn't to simply worship or by chance see The Butterfly. Members of the cult want to specifically awaken the Butterfly, turn its gaze upon them, and capture it--and they believe the best course of action is to make it listen to them. But listen requires loudness, it requires being so loud the universe can not ignore you. It requires loud, painful, agonizing screeching the likes of which not a single being can simply turn away from.

You see where I'm going with this.

It's here that Artemis, chasing his own pursuit on how to unlock godhood, that he's introduced to the Cult of the Butterfly and the Red Priestress--otherwise known as Phoebe Evans. Call it his own holy pilgrimage, he had gained access through another cult he had been studying with and was allowed to look through their archives under Phoebe supervision. Now the thing is about Phoebe, without giving too much away, is she that she's her own brand of awful. A spoiled brat whose endless drive for ego and power drove her from being just a high school mean girl into a full blown tyrant of her own cult. Where Artemis is a bottomless pit of hatred, Phoebe is overflowing fountain of egomania.

Turns out, they were into that. So, ya know, they fucked. I mean they didn't like each other but were they turned on? Yes, absolutely. Sometimes you find someone you utterly loud and also want to bang. It happens. Then Artemis went on his way, found exactly what he was looking for, and erupted out of a literal hole as the new stunning god of this forsaken world and Phoebe was pissed.

Not because she liked him or anything but because he did the impossible and he did it because he was already a freak of nature. He found a way to be somehow already the most powerful thing in the world and then jump the shark from humanity into actual godhood. That was supposed to be Pheobe. That should be Pheobe. And now she's finding out that she can't because she's normal human and to be human means you can't cross that fucking line?

No, absolutely not there is a way.

Then Phoebe finds out she's pregnent and she's figures out, alright. So she can't become God, but what's second best to God? How about the Mother of God.

So here's the thing. I have not exactly figure out the next part of this or how she did it. All I know is that Phoebe does manage through a heighten dream state to meet on the same plan as The Butterfly, grab it, and eat it--allowing it to find its home in the fetus inside her. Nine months later, a child with cosmic eyes is born unto it and Phoebe...is not happy. Because besides the whole eye deal, this child is normal. Just a random newborn baby. Boring, useless, weak. This is not what she was looking for. She wanted to be the Mother to user in The Butterfly's wisdom to the world, not spend her time changing diapers, waiting for it to wake the hell up in this infant's skull and realize its divinity. If you haven't notice, Phoebe, as ambitious as she is, isn't exactly patient. So she returns to the original plan; trying to wake The Butterfly up, just now in a new form.

Phoebe is not kind to her new child/new god. She doesn't have to be. If she's a real god, then she can withstand what she does next. If she isn't, then she can start all over.

Three months later, Artemis--back on the surface and just turn his own crime gang into a full-blown culure--gets word that Phoebe gave birth. Considering he was told that cult doesn't get many visitors and there were exactly many men in it, well...Like I said, Artemis fucked himself into a situation he could not fuck himself out of, so he might as well go check.

Cut to him arriving to a blood covered temple and finding his child bound to an alter by chains. Now I won't say exactly what happened with Phoebe or the Cult of the Butterfly after that but lets just say after that day, they weren't operating anymore. Artemis unchained Dolly, fell in love with at first sight, and decided that if she's going to look like a little doll, she might as well be called that--besides, one of his mother's favorite songs she used to sing to him was Hello, Dolly. He likes to think she would have liked the name. Dolly responded by blinking and her cosmic eyes changed to his violet. And that was that.

And so was the story of how Artemis came to find Dolly. Completely was not his fault for once but he must say, it was the best and only good thing he's ever done.

As for what Dolly is, well. She both a natural thing and abomination. It's a very odd thing to be both a human child (because for all intents and purposes, Dolly is human) and also be cosmic god. She is hopelessly in between mortality and immortality--all knowing and still learning. For Dolly, it's like her brain is a giant book but she does not have the reading level to understand what's in front of her. One day she will, and her powers are going slowly everyday, but at the same time, she is a very normal eight year old girl with a very normal eight year old body. If she pushes too hard, her the god part of her might start to awaken and break out of her, return to where it's supposed to be. Like, by virture of what the Butterfly was, it was never supposed to be IN a timeline. Being IN a timeline now means instead of there being a SINGLE VERSION OF ITSELF there are now SEVERAL VERSIONS OF THEMSELVES ACROSS TIMELINES AND WORLDS. AND THESE VERSIONS CAN NOT MEET OR EXISTENCE WILL RIPE APART.

Dolly is THAT. She's not the end all, be all but she's sure up there as far as concepts go and now she's an eight year old girl who is both extremely old and extremely new at the same time and all she wants to do is draw pictures her and her father holding hands.

And for the record Artemis is aware and he loves her. He doesn't want anything from her except to love her. The fact that Dolly is an actual literal god and he's technically running a grift was incidental and would be kind of funny if he wasn't violently aware that one day Dolly will be on her own and lose her less shard of humanity and any awareness she has of him along with it.

As for what he has planned for her. Just for her to grow up. Dolly wasn't in the plans and the plans were just to destroy the world. She comes along and he decides 'well, why not destroy the world, remake it, and then give it to her after I'm done?' It'll be like baby's first planet. Trial run for when she goes out and starts being literal god.

My plans for Dolly? I don't know. I mean part of me does know but it would be kind of a spoiler for her development. I have a storyline as Dolly gets older but that's so far in the future right now. Dolly could be a danger as she grows or she could turn out to be a benevolent or just uninterested. The problem I think for everyone else outside of Artemis, like Kassandra and Blaine, is that despite seeing the powerset Dolly has, it's hard not see her as just a little girl--and that she might not turn out to be anything more than that. She's just little kid with, yes, a bad father but there's a chance she won't end up like him. There's a chance she could change. Right now, I think when Kassandra looks at Dolly she's just...sad. Sad because she knows what she has to do and maybe she doesn't want to make another little girl an orphan. It's not that she unaware of the threat Dolly could be, it's just that she has hope that maybe that won't be the case. Cause the alternative is hurting a small child for a possibility and Kass won't do that.

And Blaine. Well, Blaine has his own reasons to be sad over Dolly and starts with he wishes he had known about her sooner.

Either way, it's good that Artemis is an actual good father who doesn't use Dolly. Maybe treating her like just a precious little girl is the best thing you could do a little god.

Although, I will add Dolly is as lonely as you might think she is--and maybe Artemis holds onto her a little tighter for that reason too.

(side note: given Dolly's power of being able to jump through realities that DON'T involve, it does give her room to exist in any canon. Funky, huh?)

(additional side note: Dolly has a phobia of butterflies, specifically red butterflies. I wonder why)

ANYWOO. THAT WAS A LOT. UM. SORRY. I hope that answered your questions? If you or anyone else has more, feel free. I am clearly an endless book with this story.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

And Eat It, Too - Chapter Sixteen: Corpse Du Ballet

In which the Unknowing takes a new turn, Tim is gravely injured, and Jon decides to go somewhere he thought he'd never, ever go…

>>> NOW ON AO3!

It's the Unknowing. Canon-typical gore and violence.

Tim lives. Not to spoil y'all, but he is going to be okay… eventually.

(Masterpost including playlist)

*

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Opening the door that muffles the calliope music is harder than letting the spiders weave against his skin, harder than staying quiet in the Dark, harder than pushing back against the Lonely in his heart.

Jon cannot breathe evenly, cannot find the calm he’s hit before, and doesn’t know if that’s because the Unknowing has truly begun and it takes all his concentration not to forget everything, or if it’s… something else.

The door opens onto a hall, ringed with balconies, looking down on an auditorium filled with horror.

The anglerfish is down there in its full and hideous glory, and all of the Stranger’s mannequins are, too, and they… are dancing.

There are lines of people, innocent people, lured in or pulled in or stolen from vacations or from their beds, snatched on the way home from work or captured after a fun night out or tricked into walking where they ought not go.

So many. So many—

One after another, being fed to the anglerfish, with screams and terror that even Jon can feel, and one by one, they are shucked out of their skin like corn.

He can’t look at it without throwing up, so he looks away.

Can’t feel Tim.

Has to find Tim.

Not Tim, you bastards, he thinks, and creeps around this hall.

There are no doors or curtains. Each little balcony grants him a horrible view, and though he’s slightly higher up, he can still see the blood they’re leaving all over the stage.

The seats are filled with a stone audience, carved, though the purpose of that is beyond even his knowledge.

He can feel his little bubble of resistance wearing away.

Then he wonders.

Michael had Tim inside him. Michael said, Michael had said…

I am simply collecting what is mine, Archivist. The one who entered my domain, when it took back Helen, what feels like years ago but was only months.

Michael can track Tim.

Jon touches his scar. I need you, he thinks. Please, I need to—

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” says Breekon or Hope.

“Said you’d be creepin’ around here, she did,” says Hope or Breekon.

Jon loses composure completely and turns to run.

It doesn’t take them long to catch him.

#

It’s so much worse, so much worse down where they’re dancing, so hard to keep his knowledge in his mind, and he can’t even think about whatever the hell Breekon and Hope are saying as he’s dragged onto the—

The—

The stage, that’s what it is, he can’t forget what it is, he can’t let them take him—

“Hello, Archivist! It’s so good to see you here,” says Nikola, grabbing his—

His—

Fuck, my hand, it’s my hand, Jon struggles.

Nikola laughs. “Oh, this will be so much fun!” And she pulls him close, and then he’s dancing.

#

Whirling, spinning.

Feet landing in places he’d never be able to do on purpose, not under his control.

Fighting so hard to keep track, to—to—

“Who… who are you?” he says.

“Why, I’m Tim!” says Nikola, and everyone around her laughs, and that isn’t right, he knows it isn’t right, and—

“N… no you’re not!” Jon cries, and tries to get away from (Nikola, this is Nikola, it’s not a dream), but she won’t let him go, and her grip on his arms is so tight that she’s tearing his skin, and he’s beginning to bleed.

He sees a thing dance by, wearing Gertrude Robinson, cackling in a way surely that old bitch never had, and feels the power of it as it swings through.

Woah, he thinks. Is that what he feels like, even remotely? Can’t be, can’t, surely he’d have—

“Pathetic,” says Getrude the Mannequin as it swings by, and laughs at him, at him, and its power swells against him, and for a moment he can’t remember what that is or who she is or who he is or why anything is happening—

“No,” Jon says. His head feels hot.

She swings by again, and now she’s dancing with another skin that’s all too familiar.

Jergen Leitner. They dug him up, too.

“Do you know how many people I killed to keep the world in one piece? The sacrifices I made?” Gertrude Mannequin says happily, and laughs. “And here I am… because you failed.”

This is important, if Jon could remember why, important because… because…

If he didn’t know who she was, these words wouldn’t matter.

They know he can fight this.

Suddenly bolstered, he snarls, “It’s not my fault you died!”

And on the next pass, it’s Leitner Mannequin talking. “No, but my death very much was.”

Deserve to be alone, Jon thinks, and moans as he pushes at it. Throws his head back, tries to get loose.

Nikola swings him, and power rises.

“Left me alone to have a cigarette, didn’t you? Left me to Elias’ tender mercy,” Leitner Mannequin  says. “Didn’t you ever learn that smoking kills?” And he is cackling, and Gertrude is cackling.

And Nikola dips him like a lover, spraying someone else’s blood in Jon’s face, her voice box stolen. “You’ve done a lot of damage, Archivist, but I’m willing to let bygones be bygones! After all, I have everything I want now—even you!”

The guilt, the guilt, his fault, his fault—Jon’s head is an inch from the stage, and lights, so bright, are blinding him. “Let me go!”

Nikola tsks and stands him up. “We are going to sacrifice you, don’t you see? With all that power stored away, and all those marks… nothing is going to stop this now!” She laughs, and swings him, and dizziness muddles anything anyone else says.

“He doesn’t have all of them,” says Gertrude Mannequin, spinning by.

“Oh, who wants all of them,” Nikola snaps. “This will be enough.”

Hold on, Jon thinks, gripping his name, his identity, his purpose. What are they… remember who you are, remember, remember why the… why…

It’s almost falling out of his head. It’s almost all gone, lost, blurring under the mushy paint of his mind.

Then there’s a horrible bang, and one of the mannequins shrieks.

Tim has come out of nowhere, wielding a pipe.

Tim has no backpack. Doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know what’s going on. But he sure as hell knows he hates these things.

The second Jon sees him, he remembers it all, and knows Tim still has the detonator.

Nikola thinks this is all hilarious, and does nothing to stop him as he comes swinging through, no less effective for the loss of his purpose.

And Jon… projects.

Danny

Your brother

Grimaldi

Remember

Tim’s eyes widen.

Suddenly he’s swinging with a will, not wildly, and Jon is

Jon is

Doing something he cannot do but if he does not they will kill Tim and he is looking at the monsters that run at Tim and willing them to be less whole than this ritual warrants and Tim is smashing them apart—

Nikola doesn’t care, and swings him away. “Let him come,” she flutes. “Let them watch each other die! It’s adorable!” And she hoists Jon against some wooden structure he feels is wrong, and when Gertrude Mannequin appears with nails and a hammer, he knows what they’re going to do.

He focuses on Tim, focuses even as he screams as they start to pound the nails in, his arms stretched too high, his tendons tearing. Focuses on Tim.

Detonator! he projects, as hard as he can, with everything he has, and he sees the moment Tim recalls.

He can feel the nails catching against his wrist bones, somehow, holding his weight. He screams.

“Take it all!” sings Nikola, her own arms raised, opening herself to the essence of the Stranger, the Uncanny, the I do not know you, and Jon suddenly feels like he’s being… sucked, somehow, drained into some horror, something that loathes his very essence and the knowledge he contains. “Take it! You who hides and dances and devours all! Take his marks, his fears, his names, his reasons! Bring with you all that is fear and terror! All that is awful dread! All that crawls, and chokes, and falls, and twists, and hides, and weaves, and burns, and—”

Jon feels turned inside out.

He can’t breathe. He can’t think. The focus on him is worse than anything he’s ever known, and he cannot fight it.

It’s like his entire being has been wired for this one, specific frequency—

And then the wood behind him vanishes into a door, and he falls through.

#

Nikola’s shriek echoes, bouncing illogically through the Corridors, and Michael watches Jon with fascination as he screams because all the things are pouring back into his head.

Jon twists on the carpet, surrounded by the few pieces of wood that came through the door instead of turning into it.

If he’d been scarred before, this had to be killing him.

The Eye seemed determined to make up for lost time, to fill the vacuum left behind with everything Jon could ever know, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

But Jon did not forget. “Save him! Please! Tim—please! Michael, please!” He’s getting blood everywhere, it’s just pouring out of him, and he can’t even think clearly enough to remove the nails. “Please!”

Michael is not smiling. It says nothing.

Jon reaches. Shaking. Blood drips from his wrist. “Please.”

Michael sighs. “Oh, Archivist, the things you say.”

Then everything happens, and it happens so very fast.

Michael opens a door.

Tim’s voice. “—see the great Grimaldi, cheer yourself up.”

And Nikola—who was the great Grimaldi, before the Circus chopped him up and made him plastic and Unknown—says, “That’s. Not. Funny.”

“I know,” says Tim, and the detonator goes click.

It’s only a second—heat and pressure, sound and light, and the door is shut and Tim is next to Jon on the carpet and he is burned, burned, so badly burned, but he is breathing, and—

Michael is burned, and Jon can’t breathe, staring at what shouldn’t be possible (because of the mortal human Gertrude strapped to it, he suddenly understands), and Michael says nothing but opens another door, and there is the James Paget University Hospital.

Jon stands, wincing at how… loose… Tim’s skin feels as he lifts him, arm around his shoulders, blood getting everywhere, and looks at Michael.

“Go, Archivist,” says Michael.

Jon hesitates.

“I will come to you when I am recovered,” Michael lies.

Jon hitches. “Don’t die,” he whispers, and carries Tim through.

#

The explosion was so big that no one questions Jon when he says he found Tim wandering not far from it.

(And Michael is going to be all right.)

Jon, however, cannot make his escape. There is no door waiting for him.

His wrists have healed; so now there’s a lot of blood he has no explanation for, but Tim’s condition helps.

(And Michael is going to be all right.)

His blasted expression seems proof enough that he didn’t know what happened at the defunct museum, but was just caught up in it.

And he knows they don’t assume he’s part of it. He’s brown, but he’s the “right kind” of brown, and his disgust at their silent racism only fades under concern for Tim.

Tim’s going to need skin grafts. Infection is a concern. But he’s alive.

(And Michael is going to be all right because any other option will shut Jon right down, and he can’t afford that now.)

Tim wakes up long enough to ask for Martin, long enough to hear Jon promise he’ll call him.

A car arrives for Jon, arranged—Elias.

Jon doesn’t want to take it.

He calls Martin on the hospital phone (knowing phone numbers is a new perk he can’t find it in himself to hate), makes sure they know where Tim is.

Then he accepts the rideshare, and doesn’t even know why.

The driver tries to talk to him twice. Jon doesn’t answer at all.

It will be hours until they reach London. Hours of trying to think, to understand, to see the big, huge thing he cannot know.

Nikola was doing something, and it wasn’t part of the Unknowing.

Her ritual had transformed, and it was based… on Jon.

I have never seen anyone as broadly claimed as you, said Michael (who has to be all right).

It doesn’t matter who you do the ritual for, if you’re marked deeply enough, said Peter Lukas.

And you’re the Big Deal, said Jared Hopworth.

Avatars, coming to his hospital room to get a look at him, as if trying to gauge if he was a horse worth betting on.

It is still hidden from him, this thing. Elias has done this. He knows, feels the truth of it.

Jon looks down at his uneven hands, blood caked on them in spite of his attempt to wash them clean, and knows he cannot go to Elias’s house tonight.

He’s not just angry at Elias. Not just betrayed. He knows if Elias wants to sleep with him, he will probably succeed, and trying to deal with the aftermath of that in the knowledge that Elias is lying about something so unthinkably huge turns Jon’s stomach.

Michael (who is healing, surely, repairing itself however it must) said to leave it be for now, so.

Where can Jon go?

He knows.

He knows they’re already waiting for him, too.

Time to test and see just how well the Mother predicted this: Jon thinks where he would hide money, if he were hiding it here for himself, and reaches into the little net map pocket inside the door.

A wad of money. So yes, the Mother knew.

Jon can’t find it himself to be as terrified about that right now as he should. It’s how he’s getting out of this.

And probably putting this driver on Elias’ shit list, but there’s nothing he can do about that. “Um, Terry, was it?”

“Yeah?” says the guy (Terry Rattcliff, fifty-eight, colon cancer survivor, father of two—).

“If I paid you a ridiculous amount of money, would you be willing to take me somewhere else and not tell the original customer who set up the drive?”

Terry hesitates.

“I’ll sign whatever I need to claim I got to my destination,” says Jon, and holds up the wad.

He probably should have counted it (two hundred and fifty pounds, so not really).

Terry eyes it in the mirror. Really looks at Jon, sees stains, dried blood, a mess of a man. “You really don’t wanna go home, huh?” he says, quietly.

“No,” says Jon. “I don’t think I’ll get another chance to escape if…” he stops.

Terry nods. “I got your back. Keep the money.”

“No, I insist.” It’s not like it’s his cash. “You’re taking a risk for me.”

“You got someplace else to go? A… shelter, or something?”

Terry is assuming Jon is an abused lover.

Jon doesn’t think he’s wrong.

“I do.” And he swallows and does the next hardest thing he’s ever done in his life. “105 Hill Top Road. Oxford.”

(part seventeen)