#moth loves to fight and murder

[doggogills]

listen to $2 Creature Feature. i’m obsessed with her….

[umblrspectrum]

flashback to -checks wrist- last night when I had to kill a moth that got in

[sp4ceboo]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

[phoenixrisingastro]

Mars in the Houses: The Blood, the Carnage, the Madness Edition

Mars is the raw, unfiltered essence of war, rage, and primal desire. It is the blood that pumps through your veins when your fists clench and your pulse races. It is the fire in your chest when you’re ready to destroy or be destroyed. Mars doesn’t ask—it takes. It doesn’t negotiate—it conquers. It lives for the thrill of battle, for the taste of blood, for the screams that echo in the aftermath.

But Mars is more than violence—it’s seduction, hunger, and the driving force behind every carnal urge you’ve ever felt. It whispers in your ear to go further, push harder, break the rules, and taste what’s forbidden. It’s the fury that makes you throw the first punch and the lust that makes you pull someone closer, knowing it might ruin you both.

In the houses, Mars shows where your battles rage, where you destroy and rebuild, where you ignite passion or chaos. This is not a placement for the faint of heart. This is blood on your hands, fire in your soul, and war in your bones.

Find your Mars. Face it. And pray it doesn’t destroy you.

Mars in the 1st House

You are war incarnate. Mars in the 1st house doesn’t just give you presence—it gives you a thirst for dominance. You don’t enter rooms, you invade them. You don’t want to be noticed; you demand submission. Every look, every breath, every move you make is a silent declaration of war. People fear you because they know, even if they can’t articulate it, that you are a weapon. Your rage is a beast with no leash, a wildfire that consumes everything in its path, even you. But what makes you truly dangerous is your refusal to stop. Even when you’ve destroyed everything, you’ll fight the ashes themselves because surrender is your ultimate enemy.

Mars in the 2nd House

This is the violence of possession, of obsession so deep it leaves bruises on the soul. Mars in the 2nd house fights not just to protect, but to hoard, to conquer, to claim. What is yours is yours, and anyone foolish enough to challenge that will feel the crushing weight of your retaliation. You don’t just take revenge—you starve your enemies, strip them of everything that makes them human, and leave them crawling in the dirt, begging for scraps. You want them to feel your absence like a knife in their throat. Your violence isn’t loud; it’s precise, merciless, and always lethal.

Mars in the 3rd House

Your words are murder weapons, sharpened and ready for the kill. Mars here doesn’t just argue—it dismembers. Every conversation is a battlefield, every disagreement an opportunity to annihilate. You don’t fight fair; you dig up secrets, weaponize insecurities, and leave your opponents bleeding out from wounds they didn’t see coming. Your mind is a predator, stalking its prey until the perfect moment to strike. You’re not just smart—you’re sadistic, reveling in the psychological carnage you leave behind. But be warned: every word you use to cut others is a blade you’ll eventually turn on yourself.

Mars in the 4th House

Home is your prison, your sanctuary, and your hell. Mars in the 4th house takes the place meant for comfort and turns it into a war zone. You grew up knowing violence—not always physical, but emotional, the kind that leaves scars no one can see. And now, you repeat the cycle, bringing chaos into every intimate space you touch. Love for you is suffocating, a stranglehold that leaves no room for escape. But hate? Hate is a fortress, a cold, impenetrable wall that keeps others out and traps you inside. Your home is a battleground, and you are both the victim and the aggressor.

Mars in the 5th House

Your passion is destruction. Mars in the 5th house takes joy, love, and creativity and twists them into weapons of chaos. You don’t just love—you consume. You don’t just create—you destroy what came before. Relationships with you are intoxicating, addictive, and utterly devastating. People fall for you like moths to a flame, knowing they’ll get burned but unable to resist the pull. Your love is a drug, your rage a plague, and your presence a hurricane that leaves nothing but rubble in its wake.

Mars in the 6th House

Mars in the 6th house is self-destruction disguised as ambition. You grind yourself into dust chasing perfection, wielding discipline like a whip against your own back. But the war doesn’t stop there—you turn your fury outward, lashing out at anyone who dares to disrupt your carefully constructed routines. Co-workers, subordinates, even your own body—they’re all fair game when your rage takes over. You don’t just fight for control—you demand it, and when you can’t achieve it, you dismantle everything, piece by agonizing piece.

Mars in the 7th House

Love is a battlefield, and you are its most ruthless combatant. Mars in the 7th house doesn’t seek harmony—it seeks dominance. Your relationships are power struggles, full of passion, rage, and destruction. You attract lovers who mirror your intensity, partners who thrive on the chaos you create. But this isn’t love—it’s war, and the casualties are high. Arguments become bloodbaths, and reconciliation feels more like a ceasefire than true peace. You leave people scarred, haunted, and forever changed.

Mars in the 8th House

This is the Mars of obsession, of control so absolute it borders on possession. The 8th house is the realm of sex, death, and transformation, and Mars here revels in its shadows. You destroy to rebuild, seduce to dominate, and love to control. You don’t just crave connection—you demand it, pulling people into your orbit and refusing to let them go until they’re completely consumed. But your power is a double-edged sword. The more you destroy others, the more you destroy yourself, leaving you trapped in a cycle of pain, desire, and rebirth.

Mars in the 9th House

Your beliefs are your weapons, and you wield them with a ferocity that terrifies even you. Mars in the 9th house turns conviction into carnage, making you fight for your truth with unrelenting zeal. You don’t just argue your point—you decimate opposition, burning bridges and cities in the name of your ideals. But this righteous fury comes at a cost. The more you fight for what you believe, the more isolated you become, until all that’s left is the scorched earth of a war you can’t stop waging.

Mars in the 10th House

You are ambition made flesh. Mars in the 10th house doesn’t just climb the ladder—it tears it down, piece by piece, until only you remain at the top. Success for you isn’t a goal—it’s a war, and every opponent is just another obstacle to conquer. Your ruthlessness is unparalleled, your drive unstoppable. But your rise to power is littered with casualties—friends, family, even your own integrity. And when you fall, as all warriors do, you’ll rise again, more dangerous and determined than ever before.

Mars in the 11th House

Even friendship isn’t safe from your wrath. Mars in the 11th house turns social circles into battlegrounds, where alliances are forged and broken with brutal efficiency. You don’t just belong to a group—you dominate it, using intimidation and manipulation to maintain control. But when conflict arises, your fury is swift and devastating. Reputations are destroyed, relationships dismantled, and chaos reigns. People fear you, admire you, and ultimately, never forget you.

Mars in the 12th House

Mars here is a ticking time bomb, hidden in the shadows of your subconscious. Your battles are internal, fought in the dark corners of your mind where no one else can see. But when the bomb goes off, the destruction is catastrophic. Your rage is unpredictable, a force that lashes out at the world even as it tears you apart. This placement makes you a master of hidden warfare, striking from the shadows with a precision that leaves no survivors. But your greatest enemy isn’t out there—it’s within you, waiting for the moment you let your guard down.

This isn’t just a post—it’s a mirror. Look into it and see the war inside you. Feel it. Fear it. And when you’re ready to face it, you know where to find me.

© PhoenixRisingAstro, 2025. All rights reserved

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 Part 7

It's almost Christmas and I have a long train journey so have another fic rec list!

Ode to a Conversation Stuck in my Throat by Leandra

In which Charles is a terrible wingman and Edwin fucks. I love fic where Edwin explores his sexuality and gets to be confident and sexy and Charles gets hit with the old Feelings Realization and this one pulls it off so well!

to say that which cannot be said by sulfuric

Charles has a lot of feelings about Edwin and decides to say it with flowers. I absolutely love the language of flowers and, honestly, decoding messages through flower arrangements seems right up Edwin's alley. Plus he deserves nice things! This fic is super sweet, the floracle is amazing and I really like how Charles' knowledge/ intelligence and general thoughtfulness get to shine here.

The Petition by khorazir

The demons of Hell commiserate after Edwin's second escape and decide to Organize. This is glorious crack with some excellent Hell worldbuilding. Does Hell have unions?? I loved the Solidarity and demonic breakroom. And I'm always here for Edwin as the Scourge of Hell. Also has wonderful fanart!

still my heartbeat with your bare hands by laiqualaurelote

Beowulf AU! Charles is hired to kill a horrible monster. I loved this historical/fantasy setting and the little snippets of mythology. The blend of Charles-typical speech patterns, modern slang and Old English was especially fun. The Author's Note also has some really interesting background info and has finally persuaded me to actually read Beowulf.

Super Effective Against Ghost Types by RoseGanymede95

Charles and Niko bonding, my beloved! During the Case of the Two Dead Dragons, Charles interviews Niko about Brad and Hunter and Gets Reminded of his own terrible former friends... This is a Niko PoV fic and this author is fabulous at capturing her voice and bringing the feels. Also in play: a shared love of Pokémon, Charles' Mood Ring Shirt and do the girls know how the boys died?? Canon and Netflix robbed us of these two spending time together and I loved Niko being gentle with Charles as he gets hit in the face by his trauma.

Love like fools by CasiHuman

This is actually a compilation of the author's Dead Boy Detectives comics (@technically-human on tumblr). Every single one is a delight; the artist is one of my favourites of any fandom.

When you are gone away by ghostinthelibrary

On the way to rescuing Edwin from the Fae, Crystal tells Charles about all the previous times this has happened. This is the latest installment of the Ministry of Supernatural Investigations series bringing Edwin and Crystal's backstory to life. I can't get enough of this AU (supernatural secret agents, basically) and we're also treated to oblivious payneland AND oblivious palasaki.

Knockout by e_va

Edwin worries about mysterious injuries Charles refuses to explain. Despite references to domestic/intimate partner violence, this one is sweet and Edwin thirsting after Charles while he's fighting is so funny to me.

Its the love and grief that makes me whole by eunoise

One of Charles' killers comes to the agency for help after he himself is murdered. Apart from the deliciously dramatic irony of that premise, I enjoyed Charles (somewhat) processing his trauma and the client trying to (finally) do right by Charles. It's also set in the Codependency World Cup Extended Universe so Charles fraught relationship with his ex-bestie/crush Mark also gets spotlighted. Recommended!

Luna Moths by thegirlofthorns

Very cute fic about Edwin coming to understand his physical feelings for Charles. I loved the luna moths/butterflies imagery and Edwin being very Edwin about being in love. Just lovely characterisation all round.

It's part of a series also featuring Kiss Me & Repaint Me featuring Charles going all out on "fripperies" to make sure Edwin get the first time he deserves. Lovely.

practise your passion on me by junosbraindump

Niko persuades Edwin to go clubbing as part of a scheme to make Charles jealous. And guess who happens to be at the club?? Minor catwin and and the payneland is cute.

Show Me My Silver Lining by GoodFrith

Charles comes home early to find Edwin torturing himself. This one's sad and emotional and touches on grief, guilt and self-harm/destructiveness but Crystal and especially Charles are amazing friends and the hurt/comfort is excellent.

The Case of the Decade of Despair by Rizandace

In which Edwin and Charles broke up a decade pre-canon and Edwin still ends up in Hell. Sad and interesting concept featuring misunderstandings and supernatural meddling but an eventual happy ending.

A Steady Anchor in the Open Sea by Mayarenerose

Edwin wakes up in the office and doesn't know where he is. Listen, I'm weak for Temporary Amnesia, OK? And this one has an existential threat for some extra angst.

A Short History of Almost Something by dear_monday, two_ravens

Missing scene from the superb fic Wunderkammer that covers the Sex Pollen-esque Incident they Never Talk About... Intense and frustrating almost payneland.

Lucid Dream of Hands on Me by tragedy_machine

Edwin gets hit by a lust spell and refuses to let Charles help out... At first. Fuck or Die culminating in Sex With Feelings for the win!

In the Name of the Law by Hse11z5

(Regular) Police Detectives AU! DS Charles Rowland gets transferred to a precinct in the countryside just in time to join the hunt for Becky Aspen and develop a massive crush on his boss, DI Edwin Payne. Interesting to see the boys as living adults with responsibilities and workplace politics but essentially the same job? And I loved the boys getting to know each other in this one.

lovesick girls by ObsessedWithFandom

Palasaki fic! In which Niko and Crystal's first date does not go to plan... I love seeing cool, confident characters fumble with their crushes, so Crystal attempting to ask Niko out was adorable. But be warned! There's also a feels sneak attack and references to childhood neglect, but also Hurt/Comfort and sickfic.

I might do another Christmas themed rec list closer to the time if people are interested? You guys have been sharing festive fic at an impressive rate! ❤️🎄🎅🎁

@tumblerislovetumblerislife @avoiceofnerat @guardianspirits13 @shazziez @khorazir @tessaaaaa @tw0-ravens @nuttersinc @sameen-shawv @ghostinthelibrarywrites @whatthehorsedoicallthisblog @neurodivergent-fangirling @many-gay-magpies @dear-monday @extremely-eager-reader @atariakana @colourmornings @herebehunters @littlepocketuniverse @overlord-of-chaos @fairandfatalasfair @laiqualaurelote @every-moment-a-different-sound @bibliomancer7 @c-rowland @nobledragonflying @a-pale-jewel @tragedy-machine @acediscowlng

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Hi, what do you think of the ceasefire between Hamas and Israel? I’m glad the hostages are being returned and am so happy for them and their families but I believe another war is inevitable because Hamas will surely attack Israel again.

What do you think?

I can answer that with a single image.

They pivoted from "wE'rE dYyYyInNnNgGg!!" to reloading their weapons in an instant. They learned nothing. To them, this ceasefire is nothing but an opportunity to rearm and plan something even more awful than 10/7.

It's inevitable. When the 10/7 terrorist attack occurred, it was Hamas breaking a pre-existing ceasefire from 2021.

It's relevant that in exchange for just 3 hostages, Israel released over a hundred Hamas terrorist criminals. In the most recent one that occurred within the last day or so, Israel got back another 3 hostages in exchange for 369 terrorist criminals. That says all you need to know about who values life and who values death.

Their ideology demands that they attack again and again and again. They've made no secret of the fact they intend to do so.

Their ideology demands it.

There is no solution for the Palestinian question except through Jihad. Initiatives, proposals and international conferences are all a waste of time and vain endeavors.

Their religion demands it.

Abu Huraira reported Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) as saying: The last hour would not come unless the Muslims will fight against the Jews and the Muslims would kill them until the Jews would hide themselves behind a stone or a tree and a stone or a tree would say: Muslim, or the servant of Allah, there is a Jew behind me; come and kill him; but the tree Gharqad would not say, for it is the tree of the Jews.

Their leaders demanded it.

"Israel is only the first target. The entire planet will be under our law."

The mothers demand it.

"Every year, there will be another October 7th. Our children will harm you. We won’t tell you the exact date, but I swear to you, it will happen."

Their social media influencers demand it.

"I would love it if they [Hamas] would do it again and again and again and again and again and again and again."

Their children demand it.

"And you Zakariya, what would you like to be?" "An engineer." "An engineer? Why do you want to become an engineer?" "So that I can blow up the Jews."

"We have to constantly stab them, drive over them and shoot them [the Jews]."

"Stabbing and running over Jews brings dignity to the Palestinians. I’m going to run them over and stab them with knives."

They attacked Israel when they tried to take over Jordan in the 70s.

They attacked Israel when they destabilized and fought a bloody war in Lebanon in the 70s/80s.

They attacked Israel when they collaborated with Iraq in the invasion of Kuwait in the 90s.

The only thing they're oppressed by is the barbarism of the appalling Islamic death cult.

The blood of martyrs is what Allah loves most. Martyrs live in a place that is beautiful like no other. Martyrs are the first ones to enter Paradise. Martyrs will not faint when the trumpet is blown (on the Day of Judgment). Martyrs will see the black-eyed virgins even before their blood dries. The best of martyrs is the one whose blood was shed and whose horse was wounded. If we take into account all that I mentioned - Allah’s rewards - then we can understand the secret behind the laughter and smiles of the martyrs’ family at their funerals.

When all of this starts back up again - and as history shows, it's an absolute certainty - I will be completely out of sympathy for them. They had an end to this battle, but that wasn't enough.

We heard wail after wail about their supposed suffering, yet it wasn't even over and they were claiming victory and ready to go again.

When the moth has declared a moral crusade, a covenant, an ideology, a determination and wish, a holy crusade to go jihad and murder the flame no matter what, eventually you're going to stop feeling sorry for the moth. And I have.

When - not if - it starts up again, Israel will, as it always has, go over and above what it's obliged to do by international law to protect lives, but it should not be dissuaded this time - not by manipulation, not by blackmail, not by sanctions, not by the corruption of the UN; by nothing - from finishing the job of hunting down and eradicating Hamas from the face of the planet.

Again, given history, this would certainly be short-lived. Even when Hamas is exterminated, the support for violent jihad evident within these people will result in something just as bad taking its place.

[hotvintagepoll]

Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster (From Here to Eternity, The Gypsy Moths)—no propaganda submitted

Zasu Pitts and Thelma Todd (Let's Do Things, Catch as Catch Can)—[a Vanity Fair article was submitted that was paywalled, so I'm putting the text of it under the cut]

This is round 1 of a mini Christmas tournament. Each poll lasts for three days. If you'd like to send additional propaganda supporting your favorite hot couple, you can reblog this post with your propaganda added, send it to my asks, or tag me in it. To vote in all the polls, click here. Happy holidays!

[additional propaganda under the cut]

Pitts and Todd:

Here is the text of the Vanity Fair article that was submitted, written by Donald Liebenson:

Before Lucy and Ethel, Laverne and Shirley, or Mary and Rhoda, there were Thelma Todd and Zasu Pitts. Separately, they were journeymen character actors in 1930s Hollywood. Together, they became the first major female comedy team, appearing in shorts that found them bonded as friends and career women struggling to make it on their own—the Depression-era answer to Abbi and Ilana of Broad City.

Over a two-year period, they made 17 shorts rarely seen since their theatrical release—and now collected for Thelma Todd & Zasu Pitts: The Hal Roach Collection 1931-33, a two-DVD set. They’re revelatory viewing, progressive, and proto-feminist portrayals of two career girls in the big city, defiantly dependent on each other.

Hal Roach, the legendary producer who teamed up Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, envisioned Todd and Pitts as a female equivalent to his marquee stars. Blonde-bombshell Todd was a beauty queen plucked from Massachusetts by a talent scout and brought to Hollywood in the 1920s, where she primarily played comic relief in other people’s films. Kansas-born Pitts was a prolific character actress, so typecast as a comedienne that few directors took her seriously for dramatic roles (though her finest hours were in Erich von Stroheim’s epic, Greed). The contrast between them was more about character than looks. Todd was brash and confident, and Pitts a more dithery presence; think Olive Oyl.

“They have gumption; they’re unflappable,” explained Molly Haskell, film critic and author of the seminal book From Reverence to Rape: The Treatment of Women in the Movies. “They’re looking out for each other; you could just feel the value of the twosome. . . . They are modern women. Hopefully, they will rise to the top—but in the meantime, they’re just going to wing it and figure things out.”

The duo’s first short, Let’s Do Things, establishes their dynamic. Thelma and Zasu promote sheet-music sales in a department store. Pitts moons over her boyfriend, but a disapproving Thelma prompts her to remember why the two came to New York in the first place. “To advance ourselves, to meet the best people, and to do big things,” Pitts responds. By the end of the short, the boyfriend gets a pie in the face, courtesy of Todd.

“They’re always going to have each other’s back,” Haskell noted. “I don’t think there’s any of the shorts where they fight over a man.”

Todd and Pitts’s gender alone made them somewhat revolutionary in their day. Comedy teams were primarily the province of men: the Marx Brothers, the Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy. “Slapstick was what men loved, and women didn’t because the whole core of it was tearing things up,” Haskell said. “It was chaotic and women wanted order. The defense of the domestic was a woman’s role . . . and slapstick violated the sense of order and decency and uprightness. They didn’t find it funny.”

But Todd and Pitts were both game for the physical stuff. In Let’s Do Things, Todd suffers a throw-about throttling from a quack osteopath; in the courtroom comedy Sneak Easily, juror Pitts throws a murder trial into chaos when she swallows a piece of the evidence—an explosive.

But in their best shorts (which, like the rest of their work, were written and directed by men), the mayhem is mostly in the service of a female narrative, observed film historian Jeanine Basinger. “It’s situational comedy,” she said. “If you’re going to make a plot centered around women, what the heck is she going to do just sitting around the house? They have to get out there in some way. . . . When you look at these films, what you see is what [the creators] thought was a good comedy female situation in that era. You have the chaos over Zasu’s hat in the boxing arena in Catch-as Catch-Can, the high-society party in which they are fish out of water in The Pajama Party, and the department-store melee in The Bargain of the Century. . . . The American woman on film is really a pretty active person, unless she is just stooging it in a male genre. Things have to happen to them, and they have to react. These shorts reflect that very clearly.”

More than 80 years on, the Todd-Pitts shorts play surprisingly well. Their appeal, talent, and chemistry elevate even the most dated material. “I like [Todd and Pitts] so much, and enjoy watching them,” said Leonard Maltin, author of the recently published anthology, Hooked on Hollywood: Discoveries from a Lifetime of Film Fandom and the essential 1970 book Movie Comedy Teams.

“I cannot tell a lie: the shorts are not all good. The gag men had a hard time coming up with suitable material that wouldn’t de-feminize them or make them look outlandishly unladylike, but [Todd and Pitts] play well today because [the characters] aren’t so different from two young women trying to make their way in the world in 2018. The struggles they have by and large tend not to be sexist. If they lose a job, they are comically inept, or it’s a blown opportunity.”

Max and Caroline of 2 Broke Girls, which ran for six seasons on CBS earlier this decade, could be the granddaughters of Thelma and Zasu. Beth Behrs, who played fallen privileged high-society woman Caroline, formed a formidable odd-couple relationship with Max (Kat Dennings), a street-smart waitress trying to start her own cupcake business. Their chemistry, Behrs said, was instant, and their real-life friendship informed their on-screen rapport over the show’s six seasons.

Though the actress was previously unfamiliar with Todd and Pitts, she watched a couple of their shorts on YouTube and saw a kinship with those aspirational woman. “It was important [Caroline and Max] were full-fledged women who really were entrepreneurs,” she said. “We never had a love interest for more than a season. It wasn’t about finding a man; it was about loving each other and building the business from nothing, and the two of them going after the American Dream together.”

For Todd and Pitts, the dream ended when Zasu left the team in 1933. Hal Roach replaced her with Patsy Kelly. Todd, who had appeared in some Laurel and Hardy shorts, is perhaps best known today for her two films with the Marx Brothers, Monkey Business and Horse Feathers. Her career was tragically cut short in 1935 when at the age of 29 she was found dead in her car. A grand jury ruled her death a suicide, but that did not explain bruises around her throat, a broken nose, and other injuries; her death remains one of Hollywood’s unsolved mysteries.

What do these 80-plus-year-old shorts have to tell us in 2018? “They show us what all old movies show us,” Basinger said. “They show us how it was, and they show us how it is. . . . We can see attitudes, we can see women out in the world doing things, having ideas and speaking out. And they show us how we are today.”

Two Broke Girls ended its run in 2017. Behrs currently stars with Max Greenfield and Cedric the Entertainer in another CBS comedy, The Neighborhood, about a white couple that moves into a predominantly black neighborhood. The first season’s initial episodes have already glimpsed the comic possibilities in her character’s relationship with her next-door neighbor (Cedric’s wife), played by Tichina Arnold. “There is an electricity between us,” Behrs said. “The writers saw it, and are exploring turning us into a Lucy and Ethel.”

[pandamoniumvibes-27]

The Vees Overstim Headcannons (SFW)

The Vees (separate) x Gender Neutral reader

Description: how the Vees are when they are overstimulated and how they help reader when they’re overstimulated.

Warnings: Toxic Valentino/Bad partner Valentino

Vox

Out of all the Vees Vox is around the middle ground when he is overstimulated

Vox spends weeks at a time in his office refusing to sleep or eat until he finishes his work

Unfortunately, work doesn’t stop when you own a company like VoxTech

It’s a common occurrence for VoxTech employees to be killed by Vox during his week long shifts

Its only after you convince him less work will be done if there is a blackout that he goes to the penthouse

Vox will usually sleep off the stress most days but there is times when he is too worked up that comfort shows work better

This man will make sure to buy the companies that makes these shows so they keep his favorite comfort shows in production

Vox loves watching True Crime while having take out Chinese food

Something only you have noticed is all the True Crime references he puts in his tv shows

If available he will try to get you and the other Vees to join him randomly coming in with random facts and theories on who is the murder

He is usually correct

When he is relaxed enough he will go to sleep although he will sheepishly ask you to come with him

He doesn’t like to admit it but quality time is his primary love language

Now if your overstimulated

Vox probably won’t notice at first but give him an hour and he will get the hint

If you’re doing work he immediately takes you away from it and brings you to his office

He gives you tea and if you don’t like tea then your favorite warm drink while sitting you down in a chair

Vox stops doing what ever what he was doing and tries having a conversation with you about anything

Vox usually tries to talk about your favorite things

Eventually Vox tells you to go up to the penthouse and put on your favorite show

He joins you after finishing his work early for the day

Man can’t cook well so he orders your favorite food (take out or from a restaurant) and brings it up to the penthouse with him

He purposely dims the lights and puts his creen on night mode in hopes the warmer lights will relax you

He’s right and you catch him smiling at you as your watching the tv

“You’re supposed to be watching the tv not staring at me like a pervert!”

“Seeing you smile is better than any tv show.”

“Better than Pride Ring 666?”

“1,000 times better than Pride Ring 666”

Valentino

Valentino is by far the least bad of the Vees when he gets overstimulated

That or ever has just gotten used to him throwing temper tantrums every 5 seconds

The main problem with Valentino is that he has turned his stress reliever into work

Valentino doesn’t realize that what he needs isn’t more sex or drugs but just needs to relax

This often doesn’t happen

Many of his employees get hurt along with employees from Vox and Velvette’s department

Eventually they send you to handle him

After a lot of fight and tears you finally convince him to take a break

Although he makes it seem like it is his idea and forces you to join him even if your working

Valentino marches to the penthouse just to put random tv show on

It doesn’t matter which one it is it can even be static all that matters is the fact it’s light

It’s a weird moth thing

The light is just so calming to him he stares at it for hours with wide eyes

If your lucky you can slip away and do some work just be back before he realizes

After he takes a nap holding you while you try to some work done on your phone

Valentino isn’t much better when your overstimulated

He doesn’t even notice unless you straight up tell him

Even then he isn’t stopping his work to help you

He tells you to take some drugs and when you refuse he straight up tells you to leave him alone

After his shift if your still overstimulated he will bring you to the couch and put his wings over you as you cuddle

If you fall asleep he will get up and go about his business but if he is feeling very nice he will make your favorite food wake you up and give it to you

If you beg real nicely he will go to bed with you

Don’t expect anymore from him he already did

“Amorcito I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I just want sympathy! Comfort! Just a hug! But NO! I GET FUCKING DRUGS!”

“Amor~ you’re acting crazy! I already did sooo much for you don’t be selfish~”

Velvette

It doesn’t help that Velvette’s work is in the thing she holds 24/7

For Velvette her work is always changing thousand of post a second all changing the trends and it her job to make sure the Vees are on top of it

Even during her lunch break she is working posting photos of her lunch taking selfies and then doom scrolling till break is over

She never ate her lunch and she only feels more overworked

Don’t even ask her about her day when she gets back to the penthouse it will only make her feel worse

Velvette locks herself in her room to film more content fix the algorithm and read the comments on her latest post

Some are less than nice and make her feel like an object rather than a person

You can try to help Velvette: give her chocolates invite her on dates maybe try to actually drag her away from her work but it will only make things worse

Velvette does what she wants and to her all your actions just read as you trying to stop her from succeeding

Your best chance at getting Velvette to take a break is sitting her down and explaining to her your observation

And she thought she was the observant one

You two come to an agreement where you take her phone for the day and you spend the day doing her favorite things

You go to her favorite restaurant her favorite stores and play her favorite video games

You take pictures for her trying your hardest to male them the best photos you have ever taken

She might hire you to be a photographer one day

Now if your overstimulated your in luck! She is very observant!

She won’t help you right away she has important work to do

She tells you to take a nap in her room and she’ll come when she is done with her work

When you wake up you don’t see her but you do see a big basket social media worthy

Inside has your favorite candy, drink, along with extra blankets and candles and slippers

If you have really specific things you like for example Pokémon or maybe really enjoy crosswords or a book series expect that in the basket too

On the side there is your favorite take out food and your favorite baked treats that you know Velvette made just for you

You see a note on the basket explaining she had to go finish a project and will be back in an hour

Velvette might not tell you how much she cares but she definitely tries to show it

Hi Darlin!

I had to go finish the outfits for my latest show! This one really is gonna be my best! I’m really gonna show all those cunts who’s on top! Anyway stay clear of Valentino’s floor if you decide to leave the penthouse fucking bastard is tearing the walls down over one of his whores. Anyways I’ll be back around 8! I have brand new couple pajama set we got to try on!

Kisses!

Velvette

[official-darkforest]

Given how Feathertail dies in this AU, I'm guessing Sharptooth the mountain lion is either a cop or a really violent war hawk in this?

Also, where does Sasha and her kits fit in?

(This is such a cool AU I love it so much)

yep, i think it makes more sense if sharptooth was a war hawk which allows fetaher to more realistically be the cause his of death after the fight they have (he dies suddenly that night due to the brain injury he sustained), while other “sharptooths” are cops and such.

sasha and her kits are tiger’s affair family. she was an aspiring actress that lost her home after her elderly father passed away, his estate being ripped out of her hands and thrusting her out onto the streets with very little to her name. tiger took a liking to her - unfortunately she would find out he was married and purposefully hid away their oldest son tad from him, but still kept in contact. golden and tiger never divorced but golden did disown her husband, and tiger went back to sasha. he had fallen hard for her and weasled his way into her good graces, meeting tad and getting her pregnant two more times. tad would end up drowning during flood season.

in the meantime, tawny would end up in her father’s care (he pulled some strings. she was always a daddy’s girl and turned her against goldenflower for a few months) and she would meet her younger half siblings. she and sasha did not get along well.

tawny would stay with them even after tiger got arrested for his crimes (murder, some other things) since she already got set up to attend a university close by. sasha was relieved when tawny moved out, but didn’t know what to do with her own two children and struggled a lot being a single mother. tiger was still stringing her along and making promises he likely wouldnt be able to fulfill and she was too lonely to leave.

eventually, she found solace in leopardstar and the two became good friends. leopardstar was like an aunt to moth and hawk. sasha’s depression wpuld get worse, though, and for the sake of her children she entrusted leopardstar to be their guardian from then on. sasha would disappear for a while to find herself and get away from tiger. she’s reappeared once every few years, but after a certain point they just stopped hearing from her entirely.

moth had felt abandoned by religion and her family, resenting them for leaving her this way and having 0 control over anything in her life. pushed into it by her brother, she put all her energy towards studying medicine and becoming an army nurse. she served for a few years before resigning and studying to become an emergency surgeon instead - a familiar high stakes environment without the danger of herself being killed. she chopped her hair short in the 70s after returning from her military service.

hawk meanwhile served in the vietnam war. he had been in the military since he was in his late teens, inspired by his father and leopardstar (who was one of many rosie riveters for WW2). he would meet ashfur from thunderclan and hear about his half brother brambleclaw through him (“you remind me of someone back home” ‘really?’) and mudclaw. hawk was lucky enough to return home, keeping in touch with tiger snd bumping into bramble, who came up to visit tawny and figured he’d show his face while he was here. the two got along pretty well after the initial shock, but eventually a rift was put between them when (i have yet to decide what about) and they stop talking, much to squilf’s relief.

[sanctus-ingenium]

I love the moth guy a lot. Such a cool design! He's a photographer, too? What a funky little guy. Do you have more to tell about him?

Patches is a large (about 1.6m long) sphinx moth descended from the family Sphingidae. He is based off of a combination of striped hawk moth and tersa sphinx moth and he is distantly related to both :)

(source) (source)

I have to explain some of the setting - so every few million years, a mountain appears. It appears in the same spot on multiple different parallel dimensions, and it is there for maybe 45 years at a time. During this time is the only time these parallel worlds can touch, intersect, or meet one another. The last time this happened, members of the class Insecta came over, and found a different world with a ludicrously oxygen-rich atmosphere and some extremely energy-dense plants. They were able to develop, in the intervening years between then and the time of the story (think 1910s on earth) into the dominant life forms in this new world, many becoming quite large and developing complex societies and technology of their own.

The mountain reappears. This time, some of our insect characters (Nettle Rove [Staphylinidae] among them, though he is much younger than Patches and arrived at the tail-end of the time window) cross the mountain again, either by accident or on purpose, and find earth there, and human society. There's not enough oxygen there to fly or do much physical activity but they can still survive there and participate in a type of cultural exchange. So we have a First Contact type situation, but that's not what everyone really cares about. See, the humans have climbed the mountain and found at its peak, hidden in the clouds, a city. Completely devoid of life (even microbial), but obviously made by somebody. So the actual premise of the story is the exploration and mystery of this place.

Patches is 18 when the mountain shows up. He has just had a fulfilling caterpillar-hood of territorially murdering everyone he meets (kind of a solitary species! some members of Sphingidae will literally fight to the death if they meet as caterpillars) and, he is naturally extremely curious about the world outside His Tree. he meets his mate/bestie, Rosy Wing and while they do spend a lot of time terrorising everyone they meet, eventually they get interested in what's on the other side of that giant mountain. after meeting up with some humans trying to map the place, a camera-maker has a bright idea to send up Patches, who can hover very still in place, to photograph the strange lifeless city from the air (the humans are in full steampunk swing so obviously they have airships but atmospheric mixing between the different worlds makes it too dangerous to fly them, given that a stray breeze from the insect world might make a combustion engine blow the fuck up). the mixing is also sufficient to allow the insects to fly on the mountain but not for very long, meaning that most exploration of the city is on foot. The development of this aerial photography technique reveals that, from the air, the city appears disproportionately huge, and seems to stretch on for infinity. Because of this, and Patches' part in it all, an entire industry strings up for city exploration, and by Nettle Rove's time twenty years later, it has descended into bitter and violent rivalries between wealthy patrons funding expeditioneer teams. Murder is legal there (it's legal in insect world too. have u met insects? they love murder)

As for Patches himself, he is a barely-socialised semi feral freak with an incredibly upbeat and curious personality who is so so so devoted to Rosy Wing (who is.. similar, but more into people instead of cameras). Until their habit of harassing and thieving from randos goes poorly on a city expedition, and their entire team gets caught in a shootout. There were no recorded survivors. Our guy survived by playing dead but Rosy Wing was not so lucky. With Patches' hindwing in tatters, his only hope of being able to fly again and get of there was to use Rosy Wing's own hindwing as donor material. And that's how he got his name (he didn't have one before) :3

Rosy Wing was similar to an eyed hawk moth in appearance

(source)

In Nettle Rove's time, there is a persistent rumour of some weird old hermit in the city. These claims are dismissed, but something's out there drinking the blood of random expeditioneers, and that thing might know more about what lies at the heart of the city than anyone else...

okay thank you for reading love u

[guacemolyarts]

please please tell me how u perceive ellabs 😭😭😭 from a shipping standpoint😭😭 also i love ur art so much

Abby has always been number one. From being Jerrys daughter, to becoming the WLFs top Scar killer, to leading her entire friend group into a murder plot with her, etc. Abby has always been the one to take the lead and do whatever she wants by her own command because she has never not gotten what she’s wanted. When that attitude got the best of her in the end (her friends turning on her, realizing what they had participated in was fucked up, etc.) she became prideful and cowardly. Lev was able to reinvent that attitude with her by giving her a purpose to protect and love someone more than herself. Lev let her have a break for once, gave her a chance to have her guard down, and not always have to feel stoic. She stood up to the only person who could crumble her *just* a bit (Isaac) and Ellie, who unknowingly had been leading her down a death trap. Even when figuring that out, Abby never backed down, Abby still got the upper hand, Abby still had what Ellie wanted- someone to care about her and her life.

Now Ellie on the other hand? Ellie has NEVER had it easy. Grew up an orphan, was a bit of a loner without Riley, was regarded as a “sad kid” by Winston, the only adult who ever really gave her the time of day. This girl has been searching for love and support her entire life. Despite her bratty attitude and hotheaded tendencies, no matter what, shes always a softie. And when she gets fixated on anything, it becomes her purpose and the force that pushes through whatever situation shes in- on a lighter note, Savage Starlight quotes, on a darker note, Abby. Ellie finds strength in just *doing*. She doesn’t need to force anyone to abide by her order (unless you wanna argue Nora, but even then, what a sloppy attempt at getting her way). She steam rolls any situation she thinks is gonna get her to her goal (jumping off the bridge into the water with Joel, the entirety of Seattle Day 2 and 3, becoming a deadbeat).

And together? You get two women who come from remarkably different upbringing’s and backgrounds, who in the end, crave to care for and to be cared about. Abby who has the explicit need to put herself in any dangerous position, knowing she can get out of it unscathed, with the entire goal of making sure what she cares about makes it through safely. Ellie, who has only ever fought through survival, to not have to do it anymore. Who can just feel protected and at peace. Abby, who is meticulous in her planning and execution, Ellie, rough around the edges and will figure it out when she gets there.

Despite how opposite they are in those regards, they are similar in their unifying need to find inner peace and strive to do their best. Both of them are incredibly strong people- and together, in any dynamic and in any situation they must get through together, I perceive Abby to be the one who is more level-headed, less inclined to blindly walk into Ellies fire, and to take the reigns in any struggle they get themselves in. To guide Ellie down the smarter, albeit longer path, and for Ellie to complain and annoy her to every end because she thinks being safer is worse than being in a rush. Ellie, the tough, agile little moth who learned everything on her own and by Joels hand, who can cut through 7 men at a time and is quick on her fight or flight. Abby, the trained in combat ex-soldier who can wipe out any path she needs to get through just by one intimidating scowl.

This is an interpretation based on canon, i could talk in circled about them for hours. So heres a little tidbit of what i perceive them as as individuals but how those traits work together.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

No need to apologize! I love your works and can't wait for you to continue. Take as much time as you want though. If you see this and are feeling up to it, could I request a Yandere Furina and EI reacting to somebody flirting with their darling? No pressure!

so i technically did this ask already, found here, but i figured i'd answer it again and give it a little redo :D i kept it pretty much the same, i guess you could just see this as an extended version of the previous one :3c

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including violence, mentions of murder, mentions of throwing and breaking furniture, mentions of self-inflicted hair pulling, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Raiden is a lot of things, but a fool is not one. She will not stand around and allow some petty street scum lay hands, eyes, or even words on her beloved. If you act fast enough, you can prevent her from making a very bloodied example of the man before her, if not, i suggest you throw out the clothes you wear, blood stains can be awful to get out.

It had happened in the blink of an eye, or rather, as fast as a flash of lightning. You had been out shopping with Raiden, having requested she take you out to pick up some things you’d placed an order for from a different Nation. Well, it had arrived earlier that week and now that she was free, she had taken you out as requested, you weren’t permitted to go out by yourself. And this was one such reason, some man who worked for the store you ordered from, leaning over the counter making expressions and speaking words far too sweet to just be friendly. Raiden doesn’t take kindly to this. Who does this man think he is? Brazenly flirting with the one individual who his very God has claimed as her own. How foolish. In an instant, with the loud crackle of lightning rupturing eardrums of all those nearby, the man slumps forward onto the counter. “Let’s go home, I’m sure you’re tired.” Raiden makes it a point to address it as if you had caused the problem, something she’ll discuss with you later, but for now she escorts you off as concerned citizens stand frozen in fear.

Yandere!Furina is boiling over with rage, her fists balled tightly at her sides as her nose twitches. She’s fuming, internally set alight as she wants to punch this loser in the face. She’s an Archon though, she can’t do that. Instead she escorts you off, waiting till the two of you get home before unleashing all her frustrations.

She doesn’t blame you, she couldn’t. Someone who shone as brightly as you did was bound to attract many a moth. It's a shame that she enjoyed city walks with you, she hated the way people stared at you. Even as she screams, hands burrowed into her hair as she pulls harshly on the roots, fighting internally against her own anger. She wished she could’ve struck him down where he stood, but she couldn’t. Instead she picks up the nearby lamp and chucks it across the room, imagining it was his head that had just shattered and not the ceramic. Many more pieces of furniture and decorative items fall victim to her rage before she settles enough to be near you, holding your head close to her chest as she whispers about how beautiful you are, hands gently petting the top of your head. Furine certainly had a few screws loose when it came to you, but she always treated you fairly. It wasn’t your fault, you’re ok, it’s ok.

[thequeerwizardcouncil]

Transgender Visibility Day Two: Estrogenic Boobaloo

Alternatively,

Transgender Visibility Day Two: Testosteronic Dickaloo

It is now Transgender Visibility Day for the other half of the world!

Let us celebrate, but firstly before anything else. The council would like to give out a few statements.

While this is an amazing celebration of our resilience and continued resistance to transphobia, we mustn't forget

Our fallen, the many killed in hate unjustly. Nex Benedict being one of the most recent

Our fellow queer in Palestine, Sudan, the Congo, etc. We mustn't forget about their suffering whilst we celebrate here so freely. Though we should care about all of the people not just the queer and trans in those places being subjected to the most inhumane conditions by tyrants.

The many bills, laws, and legislation trying to be passed to further erase us. Especially the KOSA bill, and quite sadly in Florida recently having passed legislation to ban minors from social media as an attack on us to be put in to effect in 2025.

With all of those being said, we should all continue to fight for those causes, continue fighting censorship. Continue fighting genocide. Continue fighting slavery.

We ask you all to continue spreading the word of these causes, these evils that must be stopped. As the council is bound by metaphysical law, we may not exit this and help you in the way we wish.

Fight KOSA, and censorship

Fight for our fallen, whether it's the unjustly banned, those dead from self harm, or those murdered in cold blood

Fight for those still persisting, the ones showing a fervour of resistance to fight oppresors.

We draw our strength from solidarity, it is what has allowed us to continue. Let it be the reason we win this war.

Anyways, here is our second message to all Transgender beings out there:

You are valid, you know you best. And we mean it. We may be filled with wise wizards, but we know that only oneself knows itself best. You know your identity better than anyone. Even when it can feel like your body disagrees with your true self, or others don't see you for who you are.

Know that even with all the pain, the grief, the hate, we and many many others fight every second for you to be you. For you to be safe. For all of us to be ourselves.

And we will see that day come, and by that day we hope for all of us to have survived, to tell stories of our battles, to guide a new generation of queers.

We just ask you continue being you, and being safe, and you will see that day come we guarantee. Even if it doesn't seem like it.

This world is a dark room covered in oil, we are a small candle of hope. And when it seems too dark, our hope will light the room with a burning fervour. To free us from this room. To burn down our prison.

We love you and appreciate you for who you are, please continue as you're the only one of you.

"in the dark we endure, and in the light we fight for who you call impure"

happy transgender visibility day

- The Queer Wizard Council <3 <2

@skyethebisexualwolfwizard

@im-a-wizard-who-dont-crime

@thebutterflyoficeandwisteria

@bisexualchemistry

@sassy-piece-of-parsley

@flirtyambiguouswizard

@ballisticallytestedwensleydale

@the-moth-wizard-of-mayhem

@aroace-wizard

@serious-tabaxi

@agentldiddy

@parkyrtheelvishbard

@autistic-dinos-and-dragons-lover

@a-goose-in-a-trenchcoat

@sapphicdragons-3

@transgender-wizard

@jhomikle

@cynical-artificer

@anne-androgynous-android

@asheslab

@luminethefoxincabin13-ts

@incrediwizard

@amethyst-aster

@ash-the-tiefling

@shittest-wizard-ever

@bi-gender-sorcerer

@somecallmekay

@be-gentle-with-littluns

@ladyofspoons

@slymewitch

@alchemical-overreaction

@frogpantsthebloodgod

@yourlocalbreadenthusiast

@mango-lord-of-poison

@detectivewizzard

@the-necrobotanist

@lixorloveslicorice

@hyper-lynx

@chaos-wizard-nyehehe

@song-de-lune

@lord-devere

@waluigis-elbow

@so-um-brasileiro

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 4

Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ MDNI)

wc: 3.2k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, only one bed, Tommy and Maria, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, masturbation, hand job, spitting, the Confederacy?, moth never uses y/n

authors note: I'm very happy to be coming back to these two after a long break. I have the rest of this fic outlined so maybe there will be more soon? Big big thanks for @moonlitbirdie and @schnarfer for betaing and letting me yap about this way more than is necessary. And thank you to YOU for reading. If you're enjoying it, I'd love to hear from you because I know this isn't super popular but it's my favorite.

Joel barely sleeps that night. 

The two of you manage not to cuddle up in the small bed but the chain between you means you move in tandem. Every so often, you pull Joel’s wrist towards you, inviting his fingers to brush your plush thighs. When he pulls back and your arm is yanked in his direction, you roll over with a sleepy moan and his mind is sent reeling. 

You’re doing it purposely, he’s sure of it, trying to get a rise out of him even as you sleep. Well, you’ve succeeded, he supposes. The sun begins to illuminate the room in the early hours of the morning and he’s painfully hard. 

He hasn’t been with a woman since Tess. With Ellie in tow, there’s no opportunity to visit the brothels in Jackson. He knows he wouldn’t even if he were on his own. A man like him doesn’t deserve such luxuries as pleasure. 

He punches his pillow for the hundredth time then tugs on his hair until the roots sting. Sleep eludes him as he spends half the night with one eye open, the other half badgered by dreams— your eyes, the weight of you against him, that little strip tease you gave him. Joel palms at the stiff bulge over the wooly fabric of his union suit. He resents you for driving him to it. The combination of the insistent need and his frustration has his mind racing with lewd fantasies, all the ways he’d ruin you. On your knees putting that mouth to good use.  He wants you to fight, to claw at him and pound your fists against his chest. Wants you to call him a rotten bastard as he spears into you with his cock.

You’re still snoring beside him but he glances in your direction to make sure you’re still deep asleep. The sight that greets him has him throbbing. The thin light of dawn touches your skin, highlighting the crests of your curves. Arranged as you are, the neckline of your chemise gapes away from your chest revealing your breast and pebbled nipple. His breath catches, hand reflexively squeezing at his length. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe again until he’s freed himself from his underclothes and spit into his fist. His lower belly tightens as he works at his cock with careful strokes. It's torturously slow but if he moves faster, he might rattle the chain and wake you. The teasing pulls are enough, though. He doesn’t need much more than that with the desperation he’s endured all night. 

He fists his other hand in the sheets, willing it not to cup your breast. It’s so tantalizingly close he can practically feel the warmth coming off of your skin. Instead, he closes his eyes and imagines the feel of it— the supple give of your flesh, the bud of your nipple. 

The pace of his strokes increases as he sinks deeper into the fantasy. Raking your delicate skin with his teeth, sucking on your neck. Leaving marks. Giving you no mercy like the brute he is.  

Just as he’s beginning to twitch, thighs trembling, his wrist is snapped away. He snarls at the loss of pressure, the slap of his leaking cock against his belly as it springs from his grasp. His eyes snap open and you’re there, the chain in your grip, holding him at bay.

He stares at you in shock, his face flushing with shame and fear. It’s bad enough to be caught, quite literally, with his dick in his hand, but this is a decidedly vulnerable position. There’s no telling what you’ll do to get your freedom. Frozen, Joel waits for you to make a move, cursing himself for letting his desire get the best of him.

You study him with an inscrutable expression. Amusement ticks at the corner of your lips but your pupils are blown wide and your chest moves with shallow breaths. You keep the chain pulled tight but the fingers of your other hand close around his cock. It jumps as he hisses at your touch. You squeeze and give a stroke so long and slow, it forces all the air from Joel’s lungs.The sight of the tip of your tongue darting over your bottom lip nearly breaks him and then you release a thick froth of spit. It rolls down his length, warm and slick, pooling at your fist, an obscene vision.

He tells himself he’s powerless, trapped by the chain and pinned down by your stare, but he doesn’t want you to stop. It’s too good to fight. He melts under your touch, his eyes falling shut as you work at him. 

You’re silent the entire time, the room quiet save for his sharp breaths and the sound of flesh against slick flesh. His helpless hand clenches into a fist as you coil him into madness, the bite of the cuff around his wrist an exquisite pain. 

It builds quickly to an explosion of need and bliss as violent as a gunshot. His hips jump and toes curl and you keep milking him until he’s completely spent. 

Regaining his breath, Joel opens his eyes to find he’s coated your hand with his spend. The sight, a salacious mark on you, makes his softening length twinge. You lean forward, a smug smile on your lips. 

“You still gonna turn me over to the sheriff?” you taunt.

Your tongue runs over the length of your index finger, swiping up the pearlescent release. Joel fights to keep a groan contained.

“You gonna let me hang?”

You put your middle finger between your lips and hollow your cheeks as you suck. The wet squelch of your swallow makes him dizzy. Intrigued by your unabashed filth, he fights an urge to kiss you, to taste himself in your mouth and claim even more of you but the haze begins to lift. 

He remembers himself, realizes where he is and why he’s here in bed with you, that he’s let you get the upper hand. Suddenly, you feel too close. The room is too small, the smell of lavender choking him. He pulls his wrist back into his chest and sits up, turning away. You scoff quietly as he fixes the buttons on his underclothes.

You’re all contradictions. Sharp tongue, soft curves. Quick witted, patiently waiting for your chance to bolt. Infuriating, intoxicating. You’re not afraid of him, either. Most people are. Even grown men shake in their boots around him. It throws Joel kilter. 

He glances back in your direction, to see you wiping the remnants of him onto the bed sheet. Guilt and disgust tangle in his chest. He’s denied himself for so long, only to lose his senses over a pretty girl. One that’s all too happy to make him squirm, to use his desire against him. 

He has to get out of this room before the walls close in on him.

The first floor of The Boot smells like bacon and coffee. In the parlor, the passengers of the stage coach finish their meal, nothing but biscuit crumbs left on their plates. Tommy carries a copper kettle to the table Ellie’s claimed as she wipes sleep from her eyes.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a whole stack of flapjacks,” you say, seating yourself beside her on the bench. “How ‘bout you?” 

Joel ignores you, looking everywhere but your direction.

“I’m always hungry,” Ellie tells you, already clutching her knife and fork in her fists.

“No flapjacks but we got eggs,” Tommy says. 

“How about that,” you say. “I got woken up by an old rooster.”

Joel grinds his molars. He can feel you radiating with glee across the table. 

”That right?” Tommy asks. He’s got a confused half-smile on his face. “I didn’t hear him.”

When the food is served, you take each bite of food into your mouth slowly, wrapping your lips around your fork suggestively and moaning at the taste. All the while, you keep your eyes on Joel. It’s an absolutely silly little performance and yet it makes the back of his neck hot. His mind conjures up the way you licked your fingers clean of him and he’s practically throbbing again. 

He stands up while he still can.  

“Keep your eye on her,” he instructs Ellie and shuffles off across the room to where Tommy wipes down the stage party’s abandoned table. 

“So, what? You’re a bounty hunter now?” Tommy asks. He puts an enamel mug in front of his brother and pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Course not,” Joel says, watching the dark liquid. Coffee always gets him back to rights.

“Then what’re you doing with her?” Tommy nods towards you. 

Joel can’t help but follow his gaze and finds that you’re looking right at him. Your eyes strike him, one brow arched, and it feels like you’ve caught him all over again. He pulls his eyes away as quickly as he can. 

“Making ten thousand dollars,” Joel says. He’s not sure why it sounds like he’s lying but it does.“Place is shaping up nice,” he changes the subject. He looks around the room, trying to make the ratty armchair and rusty spittoon feel as captivating as your face.

“Yeah. Think it is. The stairs could use a little work and the roof was leaking something awful when the rain came through. But we’re getting on,” Tommy explains. Pride beams from his face. 

Joel never blamed his brother for leaving the life but that didn’t mean he thought it would end well. He looked after Tommy most of his life in one way or another– after their father died, giving him a job on the ranch. He’d even tried to talk him out of joining up and going off to war. Tommy was hardworking and strong and genuine. One thing he wasn’t– independent. 

That’s why he’d gone along with Joel when he turned to crime. It had started out of desperation. Joel needed money and he needed it fast. But then he’d lost everything– his home, his livelihood, Sarah. It didn’t feel like there was much point in doing anything other than stealing. He didn’t give a damn about the money, would rather set a match to it before he let those train men have a cent.

They’d been good at robbing trains and stagecoaches. The two of them had stashed away enough that Joel could’ve bought two ranches by now but he didn’t see the point in settling down now that he was alone.

Joel figured it was just a matter of time before Tommy came back to him but he’d made a nice little life for himself. He’d never say that out loud, give Tommy a big head, but, begrudgingly he’s happy for him.

“Listen, I ain’t just here for your hospitality. I’ve got something I’m working on,” Joel says, shifting his weight awkwardly. 

Tommy’s smile fades. 

“C’mon. Don’t ask me to do that,” he says. 

Joel sighs. 

“I’ve told you. I don’t want to do anymore robbing and stealing.”

“Look I ain’t asking you to do anything but listen,” he says. 

Tommy shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“It’s Cartwright,” Joel tells him. The name makes his chest ache, his mouth coated with bitterness at the words. He’s forced to envision the face the man that he hates. The only other time he feels as much disgust is when he’s looking in a mirror. 

His brother’s lips part and he exhales slowly, the meaning of Joel’s words hitting him heavily. Joel’s wasn’t the only life rocked by David Cartwright. “You sure?”

Joel nods. Tommy drags a hand over his mouth and Joel can see that his mind is racing.

“Alright,” he finally says in a hushed tone. “Not now. Maria’ll be doing laundry tomorrow. She’ll be out back all day. We’ll talk then.”

It’s too difficult to thank Tommy with the lump that’s formed in his throat so he gives a curt nod. He tries to erase Cartwright’s image from his mind but all he sees is Sarah and it cut even deeper.

Ellie scrapes the remnants of Joel’s breakfast onto her own plate.

She and Joel make an odd pair. For all of Joel’s stoicism, Ellie’s a firebrand, full of energy and enthusiasm. Considering the way he grumbles at just about every word that comes out of your mouth, why he chooses to keep this kid around is a mystery.

He’s not entirely obscure, though. He’s just a man when it comes down to it. You crack a smile at the memory of him crumbling beneath your touch.

You’ve done worse for lesser rewards. Life’s been about survival for you, doing what you needed to to get by. Men, oftentimes, were the easiest way to get those things.

You’d awoken to the sound of Joel’s jagged breaths, the soft clinking of the iron chain. You knew he was thinking about you as he fisted his cock. You’d seen that hungry look in his eye as you undressed for him. 

This was your chance to grab him by the balls and demand your freedom but waking up after being surrounded by him, the musky scent and his big arms cradling you all night, your curiosity got the best of you. He’d become a man rendered wild. Neck taught, teeth bared, nostrils flaring. Completely unaware of anything but his own pleasure. You needed to know what it would look like when he fell apart. 

What you hadn’t expected was how it would change him. How it smoothed the lines in his forehead when he finished. And you had no idea that the choked sound he made would wash you with heat. You didn’t think you’d be pressing your thighs together. That hadn’t happened before. 

“So what did you do to get that bounty? I won’t tell him,” Ellie says. 

You tear your thoughts away from that morning. It’s not helping your cause getting all hot and bothered for your captor. 

“Welp, my brother stole a hundred dollars from me. So I killed him,” you tell her. 

“That’s bullshit,” she says. 

You smile. She’s a smart kid and she’s got a mouth on her. Reminds you a bit of yourself back in the day. Except, of course, you were busy batting your eyes at boys. You got into your fair share of trouble but that was amateur compared to what Ellie’s accomplished. 

She’s a kindred spirit so you’d like to tell her. Problem is, it hurts too much. And you don't think you can adequately describe just how green Nell’s eyes were. And if she doesn’t know that, then how could the rest of it make any sense? 

“Listen,” you offer, “how’s about I tell you if you’ll tell me something?”

She nods eagerly. 

You look at Joel, deep in conversation with his brother. He’s well out of earshot and preoccupied. You lean forward on the table, eyes sliding to Ellie. 

“Who’s Sarah?” you ask. 

You’ve been wondering about her. She must be something special if she haunts Joel’s dreams and that might give you some clue to what makes him tick. 

Ellie’s face changes. Her eyes dart over to him and then away. The past three days she’s filled every moment with chatter and suddenly she’s tongue tied. 

“Joel doesn’t like to talk about her,” she says.  

You don’t say anything, just give her silence to fill with an answer. Her lips twist, brow knit in thought. You’ve got ideas about who this Sarah might be. A lover, a wife. You’re dying to know if you’re on the mark. Ellie swallows and you think she’s just about ready to tell you.

“I could use your help in the kitchen,” you hear Maria say. You’re in such focused suspense it’s as if she’s appeared as if out of thin air. 

You almost swear aloud but you plaster a big smile on your face while you think about throttling Maria for snatching this delicate moment away.

“Why certainly,” you say. You stand from your seat. As much as you want to unlock the mysteries of Joel Miller, getting out of this parlor and into Maria’s good graces is probably an easier route to escape. 

“I’m watching her,” Ellie announces. 

Maria sighs at Ellie. “Then you can come too. ‘Bout time you lend a hand here.”

The only kitchen work Maria entrusts to you is doing the washing up. When you said you knew how to cook, that wasn’t entirely true. Nell taught you how to cook one or two dishes but you’d never been practiced in the kitchen. Dishes, though, you’ve had plenty of experience with.

Ellie sits on a table, legs wide as she peels potatoes with her knife, sighing periodically so that everyone knows she’s bored. Maria ignores this and hums to herself as she chops carrots.

She’s wearing a simple brooch at her collar, a golden hoop embossed with flowers. It reminds you of another brooch, the emerald one you stole out of Mrs. Coxcombe’s jewelry box. You try to recall Nell’s face when you presented it to her. She’d laughed and said “You’re bold as brass,” and the words danced in her pretty accent. That’s when you realized the stone really didn’t shimmer the same as her eyes. 

It’s hard to remember her the way she was before that last time, when she looked at you with horror and disgust. That’s all you see anymore. You pull yourself from the thought before it stings. 

“Now, Miss Maria, I’m mighty curious how a genteel lady such as yourself ended up married to a member of an outlaw gang,” you say, dunking one of the breakfast plates into the hot water. 

Ellie guffaws when you refer to Maria as ‘genteel.’ Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick. 

“Now I can understand,” you continue. “He’s a good looker. But you strike me as sensible enough not to get swept off your feet by a pretty face.” 

Maria smiles softly.

“He’s a good man,” she says, pushing the onions aside and starting on a big, orange yam. “He’s loyal and brave. And he makes me laugh. He’s just been a little misled.” 

Ellie scoffs angrily.

“Joel never made him do anything,” she says. “I would know.” 

Maria sighs. “Joel’s his older brother. Tommy looks up to him.” 

“Did Joel make him join up with the rebels?” Ellie snipes. 

Your eyebrows raise. With his affable smile, it’s hard to imagine Tommy as a soldier let alone in a Confederate uniform.

“Don’t that make the two of you even more peculiar,” you say. 

Maria schools her expression and wipes her hands on her linen apron.

“Tommy’s made mistakes in his time,” she says evenly. “When you get older, you begin to have regrets.” 

You have a feeling these two have clashed over this before— Ellie with the sweet arrogance of youth, Maria understanding all the shades of gray the world presents. Their little squabble doesn’t really interest you. You keep them sniping at each other as you take a fork out of the wash basin’s murky water. The two of them are so busy with their argument, neither notice you drop it to the floor and tuck it under your skirts.

”We’ve all made mistakes,” you say. “I’ve made plenty myself. But we all deserve a second chance, don’t we?”

It seems neither of them can argue with that. Ellie tilts her head to the side, allowing her agreement. Maria nods along sagely. 

You’ve gone through a hundred second chances but right now, you just need one more.

-

Chapter 5

Thanks for reading! My asks are always open!

[nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx]

Never leave me

Nico heard a soft knock at his door, he glanced down at his watch, 11:27, no reasonable person would be here, alas Will Solace never did have a habit of being reasonable.

"Neeks, we're having a Star Wars marathon, right now, I bought snacks." He laughed to himself as he went to open the door.

"What happened to getting a reasonable amount of sleep Solace?"

"You weren't sleeping either way and you need to watch Star Wars."

"Oh gods, this can't be good..." Will ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead, "Wait, how the fuck did you get here without getting murdered by harpies?"

"I may or may not have bribed them; also language." He said in a teasing manor while they walked into the Hades cabin,

"What's so amazing about this series anyways? Isn't it just a bunch of guys fighting in space with glowing swords?"

"How dare you, this is the most incredible thing you will ever see in your life, trust me."

"See that's impossible, Harry Potter exists."

"Why the fuck have you watched Harry Potter but not Star Wars?"

"Who needs to be 'languaged' now?"

"Oh shush, I just found out my boyfriend is uncultured."

"Oh shut up you little nerd."

"Little is strong coming from you, and can I just remind you how long you spent talking about Mythomagic last night?"

"At least that's actually useful, unlike glowing space sticks."

"Harry Potter...? Literally just rip off Star Wars."

"How!?"

"You'll see." He started the movie on his laptop, placing it on a small wooden table along with the all the snacks he bought. "You'll love it."

"We'll see William, we'll see." He sat down next to him, lying his head on his chest, Will wrapped his arm around him, holding him close.

***

"This is so boring."

"Shut up, the starts a bit slow, it gets good at the forty minutes mark."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

***

"Mid, at best."

"You do realise there's eight more of those." After that realisation Nico started aggressively throwing popcorn at him, leading to them pausing the movie and having a mini popcorn fight, ending with Will's surrender solely because he wanted to finish the movie.

***

"HE'S HIS DAD? WHAT THE ACTU-" He put his hand of the Ghost King's mouth,

"Shhhhhh, people are trying to sleep."

"I don't give a fuck Solace, what the fuck was that?"

***

"Neeks, that's the end of the original trilogy." He waited for a few seconds before realising the son of Hades had fallen asleep in his arms, carefully he picked him up, making sure to not wake him as he layed him in his bed and slipping in next to him. "Goodnight Angel, I love you." He whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead before falling asleep next to him, hugging him as they both slept.

________

@midnightisday2 happy birthday, here's some fluff, just for you :)

Also happy pride moth everyone <3

You're all loved and I will hunt down anyone who has made you think otherwise

[flightfoot]

Miraculous Enemies AU fanfic recs

So I was just thinking about one of my favorite Miraculous tropes, enemies au. Whether it's Marinette getting the wrong idea about Adrien from the beginning of school, or Chat being cajoled into working for his father, I adore most fics with these tropes, and I'm betting that a lot of other people do as well, so here's a list of some good ones for people to peruse!

Note: I am only listing fics that are currently completed, so you don't have to fear any of these being abandoned. They are in no particular order (or rather, they're in the order in which I was able to track them down in for this list).

cruel youth by @anyxnka

Two teenagers are chosen to wield miraculouses. Only one becomes a superhero. Weeks later, Ladybug’s lucky charm won’t stop spitting out cats.

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i have found someone (like a nomad finds a home) by @hanaasbananas

After Stoneheart, Gabriel figured out who Chat Noir was, and forced him to work for him, rather than with Ladybug. Years later, Adrien is miserable until one night, he meets Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

---

Unstuck by @ominousunflower

Chat Noir, notorious supervillain of Paris, experiences a wardrobe malfunction in the best and worst possible place: Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s balcony. Heart pounding, Chat pins Marinette’s wrists to the balcony. She stares up at him, her blue eyes kaleidoscopic from the lights hanging overhead, her features twisted into a scowl. “Why are you trying to take my Miraculous?” Chat hisses. “Because—you—I—” Marinette splutters, her eyes dipping down below Chat’s face. “Why is your suit unzipped?” “I—well…” Chat sighs. “My zipper got stuck.”

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every Miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace. Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most. Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

---

with this ring by @thelibraryloser

She thought “you and me against the world” had sounded like lopsided odds before, when she hadn’t even dreamed “you against me” was a possibility. Or maybe she had dreamed it, but at least in those dreams he’d had cold blue eyes and a stark white mask. The villain she’d fought today had looked at her through her partner’s own bright green eyes. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

---

Nothing Else Matters by LiquefiedStars

Marinette couldn’t figure out Chat Noir. He was supposed to be her partner, but instead ended up working for Hawk Moth. Still, her heart betrayed her and when a strong connection forms between them, Ladybug goes to Chat looking for answers, finding out more than she bargained for.

---

home is where the fight is by @rosie-b

Nadja Chamack’s voice greeted Adrien as he sat up straight, wiping his clammy hands on his pants and ignoring the black kwami floating by his shoulder. “—shocked to see our heroine fall in battle today, taking a direct hit from the akuma just as she detransformed. Parisians are torn between blaming Hawk Moth and Cat Walker for their roles in this tragedy, which ultimately revealed the civilian identity of Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien turned off the TV and lowered his head as his vision blurred. Written for Ladrien June Day 7: Injured

---

The Great War by icebelle24

'And maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from a crypt Telling me to punish you for things you never did So I justified it' The unthinkable happens, and suddenly, Chat Noir’s allegiances change. Now Ladybug stands on the opposite side of the battlefield from the boy who was once her partner, left alone to make sense of an impossible situation. At least she still has Adrien to give her hope. Or maybe this war is not entirely what it seems.

---

Miss Dial by @mysticraven20

Adrien Agreste has always considered Marinette Dupain-Cheng entertaining. Whether it was the endless back and forth of their banter, the clumsiness he found so cute or the fact her anger levels could go from 1-100 in a mere millisecond; he always found there was something about her... if only he could get to know her better. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has always considered Adrien Agreste a pompous, arrogant asshole. From his constant teasing of her, to the obnoxious laugh at her discomfort and the way he could anger her quicker than any other human being; she knew she hated Adrien Agreste with all she was worth. But what happens when Adrien accidentally sends the wrong text to the wrong person and a new friendship blossoms - a friendship deeper than either have ever known? Will Marinette choose to stay faithful to the budding relationship with the boy on the other side of the phone? Or will a new job with an old foe fill the loneliness in her heart?

---

call it even by @anna-scribbles and @sha-nwa

After a year of dating, there is one thing Marinette knows for certain: it's her and Adrien against the world. Through it all, Adrien is kind, patient, and endlessly understanding—even as she tries her best to keep her secret superhero identity hidden from him along with the rest of the world. Nothing could ruin it, not even the supervillains of Paris: Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. (adrinette dating // ladynoir enemies au)

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oh, look, there you go with hope again by @ladyofthenoodle

After the defeat of Hawkmoth and his accomplice, Chat Noir, Marinette is ready to return to her normal life, but she can't escape Adrien Agreste, who was sentenced to a fate many consider worse than prison: public school. Specifically, her public school. Still, that doesn't mean she has to interact with him, does it? Except, if she doesn't... who will?

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Redemption by JamieHasCatEyes

Papillon has been defeated and imprisoned, but his accomplice, Chat Noir, was given a second chance. Marinette's time as Ladybug may be over, but she still has work to do if she wants to help Adrien reintegrate back into society.

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The Son Of My Enemy by Saccha

Cat Noir never wanted to be a villain, but he doesn't have a choice. Ladybug wishes she could save him. A reverse love square, villain!Cat Noir AU.

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metamorphosis by @peachcitt

“I was thinking about that time you hated me.” “Why?” "I don’t know." “I didn’t.” “I know.” or three years after hawkmoth's defeat, marinette is still trying to figure out her version of normal. there's also sleepovers.

---

Stealing Freedom by @rosie-b

Adrien Agreste was a good person. Marinette knew this to be true, of course; she wouldn’t be marrying him if he were some irredeemable villain. No, her fiancé was practically the opposite of evil. He cooed over babies and kittens, literally stopped to smell the roses, and always brought large bouquets of them to dates. He had trouble killing spiders and bugs, begging his partner to take on the task whenever she was around to save him. Adrien was the sweetest person Marinette knew, the most kindhearted, the most forgiving; he was almost too perfect for her sometimes. But now, Marinette knew that the same Adrien who still blushed when his fiancée kissed him was also the well-known terror of Paris, Cat Walker.