#not the oldest; but I've been here a fucking long time

[medicinemane]

To be honest, seeing a post about how since binders are hand wash and that's a pain, old washboards do a good job (did I reblog that?...I forget) really kind of makes me want to get a washboard for my laundry

See... I kind of fucking hate using machines like that for some reason. Like, I don't use the dishwasher, it's so much easier for me to do it by hand (even easier if I get ahold of some good dish rags cause... when I've got a rag I can get things cleaned even quicker and easier)

Just something about the loading and unloading... doesn't work well for me

But using a washboard on the couple things I use (I mean I'm at home a lot, so I don't go through a ton of stuff), and then hanging them on one of those little... like the indoor hanging racks (which I could make if I'd just make it)... that feels easier too me

Hard to get started doing cause... it's... it's a big learning investment, not that it's complex but like... even if you... well even if I know all the steps for something, doing it the first time still is really hard and like learning, I can't say how it is for you

But like, once I started doing it and was used to it I feel like I'd do it a lot more than I'm willing to do laundry in a machine

...I don't know... just thoughts I have. Don't know why I'm like this, but I am

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

heyy can u do a fem reader x slash smut with like daddy kink and praise kink or some shit like that. he’s just so damn fine and also the most recent slash one u did was 10/10 anyways thanks sweetie

A/n: I've had this idea for SO LONG and I needed an excuse to finally write it so thank you <3

Warnings: Smut, age gap, fingering (f receiving), squirting, daddy!kink, praising, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 2

You were living with Duff for University, it was cheaper for you to go to school in a different country and he happened to have signed up to take in exchange students. Duff was an advocate for better education and obviously wanted to do what he could so why not?

He was great and when he found out you were into rock he wanted to introduce you to his band, Guns N' Roses.

He brought you down to the studio just so you could sit around and hang out. You, however, noticed a certain someone paying special attention to you.

Slash had a hard time taking his eyes off of you and you didn't miss the way he continued to shift uncomfortably in his seat every few minutes.

You weren't sure who brought it up since you hadn't been in the room when they were discussing it but Duff told you about Slash's oldest son, London, and said he was around your age so he wondered if you'd want to hang out.

You agreed since Duff and Susanne had been talking about a date night anyway, thus leading to you spending the night at Slash's house.

London was nice enough, you shared some interests and had a fun time but when it got later you retreated to the guest room.

You tossed and turned but you couldn't ignore the sounds coming from the downstairs TV. You got out of bed and made your way towards the noise and found Slash on the couch watching some horror movie from the 1980's.

He didn't seem to notice you until you sat down on the couch. He glanced over at you, shamelessly eyeing you in a band shirt and nothing else. It was big enough to cover you but even so it had him readjusting himself again.

"What're you doing down here?" He asked, keeping his voice low though no one should be awake to hear.

"I heard the TV." You replied simply, gesturing to the glowing light across the room.

Slash pat the spot next to him. "Come closer, no need for you to be over there." You hesitated a moment, biting your lip before moving closer to him.

He had his arm over you, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. Knowing he enjoyed this you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

You weren't watching the movie and you sure Slash wasn't either, you were too busy thinking about Slash and that musky smell coming from him, his big hands resting on you and the couch. Fuck, you couldn't get him off your mind.

"What do you think you're doing?" Slash asked, not taking is eyes off the TV. You looked up at him with a confused expression on your face. You hadn't even noticed the way you were mindlessly touching yourself, your hand squeezed between your thighs, your hips bucking up every few seconds.

"I-I wasn't- I didn't-" You stuttered, trying to explain yourself and failing.

"C'mere." He ordered, patting his thigh. You moved to sit in his lap, your back pressed against his chest. He hooked your legs over his, spreading them with ease. He ran a hand over your thigh, teasingly tapping your sensitive inner thigh. "Now, why'd you really come down here?"

You bit your lip, back arching at his touch. "Wanted to see you."

"Just 'see'?" He whispered, words falling right into your ear. His hand moved further up, fingers rubbing your clit through you pretty lace panties. "Wet through your fucking panties already." He grinned. "Might as well take them off if they're gonna be that useless, huh?"

You nodded weakly, shifting in his lap to help him take them off of you. You gasped when his calloused fingers touched your bare clit, two rubbing the sensitive bud in circles.

You moaned at the feeling, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. Slash slipped a finger into you and your eyes widened, another gasp leaving you.

Slash shushed you. "Watch your fucking voice." The digit inside you moved at a slow pace, pushing and prodding at your gummy walls until he found that heavenly spongey spot. Once he found it his pace gradually increased.

Your hands clenched and unclenched, begging for something to grip as Slash finger fucked you. "Fuck, just like that." You moaned, voice airy. He inserted another finger and you moaned louder at the stretch. "Oh, fuck, feels s'good."

A warmth grew in your gut, spreading to the rest of your body. Slash groped your chest, plump lips sucking your neck, his thick fingers sliding in and out of you, using your wetness as lube.

"You keep doing that, sweetheart." He muttered, referring to the way your walls kept fluttering around him. "Gonna be a good girl and cum on daddy's fingers." His words fueled the knot growing in you and when it snapped he pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your clit.

Your vision went white, you couldn't hear how loud you were being but you felt Slash's free hand slapping over your mouth, you could hear his deep groans in your ear.

Your breathing was heavy and your body was twitching as you came down from your high. "Look at that." Slash's soft voice came in your ear. You struggled to figure out what he was talking about, soon you saw the puddle and splatters on the wooden floor in front of you, the wet spot on the couch more prominent than anything. "I'd definitely like to see that again."

"Dad?" A tired voice called. You panicked and sunk down on the couch, using Slash's broad body as coverage.

"Yeah?" Slash responded, looking over the back of the couch.

There was a long moment of silence before you heard footsteps walking away.

Slash looked down to you. "Fuck was that for?" You chuckled softly and moved back up the couch. Slash gave your thigh a pat. "Why don't you go to bed and I'll clean up for you?" You nodded, leaning against him for a moment before getting up.

You took a step away but Slash pulled you back, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your abdomen. "I'll be seeing more of you soon, right?" You smiled and nodded before heading back upstairs.

You paused outside the guest room, just a little ways further was Slash's room. He was still downstairs cleaning, he deserved a reward for that, right?

You slipped into his room and crawled into his bed. The sheets smelled just like him and you couldn't get the thought out of your mind of him getting in with you, knowing he slept naked.

You pulled a pillow close to you, inhaling his scent deeply before bringing it between your legs and grinding against it, eagerly waiting for him to come find you.

[angelicsoka]

SARA, l. hughes

word count | 1.3k

pairings | luke hughes x fem!reader, platonic!quinn hughes x reader, platonic!jack hughes x reader

summary | luke’s girlfriend has suffered in silence for too long, and luke noticed the warning signs too late

warnings | HEAVY themes of suicide and suicidal ideation, mentions of self-harm and depression, underage drinking and smoking, mentions of blood. ANGST ANGST ANGST, open ending, this is not a happy fic, luke is fucking oblivious. based on the song sara by we three. no use of "y/n". lowercase intended

a/n | this is my first time posting in here so i'm still figuring out how this all works lol. this is NOT proofread. also this is probably the darkest thing i have ever really written.

little sara, you're a diamond in the rough

and i know that you don't hear this all enough

and i'm sure that's why your wrists have tons of cuts

and i'm sure that's why you think you're not enough

fingers traced over the faded scars and onto the raised ones, the urge more than she can handle. but she deserved this. she deserved to feel so shitty, she was shitty. she ruined everything good she had, her relationships and job. a repeated process, be happy for a while and then fuck everything up. “who would care if she fucked one more thing?” was the thought that ran through her head, crimson covering the sink.

your mind can only think about the things it shouldn't

your brain is filled with thoughts of wishing that ya didn't

little sara, perk your ears up, try to listen

but she can't hear a sound because she's locked in a prison

the room was loud, but the noise sounded so far away as she dazed off. she was brought back to reality by luke swinging his arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. the sudden movement made her quietly hiss as her arm brushed against him, the fresh wounds in the back of her mind. she forced a smile on her face, looking to luke who gently kissed her forehead. he offered her a beer, to which she took, ignoring the concerned look on quinn’s face. she had been drinking all night  but luke didn't have to know that. it slowed the thoughts, so how could it be a bad thing?

luke began to chat with his brothers and their friends, oblivious to the smile that had dropped from her face. oblivious to the fact that she was practically chugging the beer in hopes to stop the horrible thoughts that had begun to invade her brain once more.

and she was oblivious to the concerned looks of her boyfriend and friends as she abruptly got up, walking outside. she sat down, pulling the cigarette from its box, lighting it. she took a drag, jumping when a voice spoke up:

“you’re killing yourself, you know that?” she whipped her head around to see quinn standing there with his hands in his pockets. “does luke know you smoke?”

“why do you care?” she snapped, turning to look back at the yard. it was quiet, crickets chirping being the only thing making noise. she ignored quinn as he sat beside her, taking another drag. she held back her tears, not wanting to break down in front of her boyfriend’s oldest brother.

“he loves you, you know? the way he looks at you says it all. you're good for him. i don’t think i've seen him this happy in a long time.” she forced a small smile at quinn’s attempt to comfort her. he was lying, he had to be, because who could love a fuck up like her?

all your friends they wanna smoke 'cause it's a friday

but you've been smoking straight probably since last sunday

i know you know you shouldn't say that you are okay

but you still look 'em in the eye and lie then go to use your ashtray

she was high, but when was she not? the boys passed around the blunt, each taking drags from it. they were joking around, jack and trevor wrestling beside her. luke held her close, his fingers gently running down her arm. she ignored the burning sensation that occurred when luke’s fingers accidentally brushed over her wound, a smile plastered on her face. luke seemed to be the only who didn’t notice that the smile didn’t meet her eyes. she huffed out a laugh at a joke made by cole, settling her head against luke’s shoulder. for a moment, she felt happy; carefree. 

that all ended when that singular thought crossed her mind: they hate you. such a simple thought, but she felt as though she had been sucker punched. she subtly shifted off of luke, who seemingly didn’t notice. she twiddled with her thumbs, ignoring the feeling of someone looking at her. she felt jack nudge her, handing her the blunt. she accepted it, unable to really meet his eyes. “you okay?” quinn mouthed to her when she met his eyes. 

“yeah.” she lied through her teeth, averting her eyes and grabbing the ashtray.

little sara, last night, you got it bad

in that moment, you could barely even

add up two or three reasons why you're glad

and i guess that's why you grabbed your pen and pad

it was 6:14, and you could barely even read

all the words you'd written down when it was time for you to leave

your phone was on the ground and you could barely hear it ring

couldn't even hear a sound, couldn't feel a single thing

nights were the worst. being alone in her thoughts led to serious consequences, this night no different. she did what she was suppose to, all the coping skills she had learned. still, she couldn’t come up with any reason to stick around, which is why she now sat at her desk, scribbling rapidly. she couldn’t hardly read the words on the paper, tears cascading down her rosy cheeks as she practically destroyed her desk in search of the blade. the distance sound of her phone ringing stopped her for a moment, the contact name and picture for luke clear on her phone. she pushed the second-guessing thoughts aside, muting the call.

luke swore when she once again did not pick up, the text that started this now open: i love you, lukey. i hope you can forgive me. he swore to himself, angry that he had missed the signs. as he thought about it, the signs were so clear, how could he have not noticed? he begged for jack to drive faster, dialing her number once more. luke wiped his tears as jack sped up, praying for her to be okay. he hoped he would make it in time, to be there when she needed him most.

now it's 6:15, and you're on your knees

blood is on your sleeves, and your lungs won't breathe

eyes are watering, body's shivering

and you're wondering what is happening

now it's 6:23, and they're on their knees

begging "jesus please, can you make her breathe?"

'cause they finally see what was happening

underneath their nose and underneath your sleeves 

she sat against her bed, sobs racking through her body. her chest was tight, her breaths short as she began to lose consciousness. she began to shiver uncontrollably, curling into herself to create any kind of warmth. she looked up when the door was kicked in, her vision blurring. her eyes fluttered close as luke ran to her side, her life slowly leaving her body. 

“get something to stop the bleeding!” luke yelled to jack who was frozen under the doorframe. he snapped out of it, grabbing the blanket that was balled up on her bed. he began to put pressure on her wounds as luke pleaded with her to wake up. they continued this until the paramedics arrived, luke hesitant to leave her side. for the first time in a long time, luke cried into his brother’s shoulder. and he swore to himself that he would never miss the signs again.

she can barely see the pavement

she can barely read the signs

people think she's complicated

but never wanna look inside

'cause she's a little too r-rated

and they're a little too damn blind

she's just looking for her angels

but they're a little hard to find

[farity]

Devil in the Details

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. God."

You turned at your friend Floris's whispered exclamation.

It took you but a second to figure out what she was so excited about.

Aemond Targaryen, the black sheep of the Targaryen dynasty, the reclusive billionaire who looked down at everyone vying for his attention, the man you'd been in lust with since you'd met him five years ago, had actually made an appearance at the glittering charity gala hosted by his mother.

"I need to get his skin care routine," Floris said, biting on her lower lip as she scrutinized Aemond from head to toe. "I'd love to climb that tree tonight."

Good luck with that, you thought to yourself.

You'd been in the same Uni class as his sister Helaena and met Aemond when you'd gone over to work on a joint project. He'd been quiet and almost shy, and you had been instantly smitten.

And had not been able to date anyone in the five years since because all you thought about was Aemond Targaryen.

Not that he gave you a second thought, as far as you knew.

"What the fuck is he wearing?" Floris continued, and, tired of pining after the man, you looked at her and snapped, "why don't you go find out?" before walking away to get your drink refilled.

* * * * *

"We are so very thankful for your family's contribution - the children will benefit greatly," Alicent smiled at you, leaning in to air-kiss you as you said your goodbyes.

You got your coat from the girl at the front, and were about to call for your car when you felt a hand grab your arm.

"Leaving already?"

Your heart began pounding as you recognized Aemond's voice, and taking a breath to steady yourself, you turned to face him.

By the Seven, he looked amazing. He'd shaved off his hair a few months ago when Aegon had done the same after having one too many drinks. Alicent had screamed at her oldest son and out of brotherly solidarity, Aemond had grabbed the electric shaver and started running it along his scalp right in front of his mother.

His eyes bore into yours, the prosthetic eye he had so perfect that you couldn't tell which eye was the real one. Every time you thought about it, you wanted to wallop his cousin, the little shit who had taken Aemond's eye during a childhood fight.

"I've seen enough people to last me a few months," you said, looking at what was, indeed, damn perfect skin, as Floris had mentioned. And was that eyeliner? Because his eyes had never been bluer than they were at that moment.

"Tell me about it," he said, still holding on to your arm, "I was going to grab a drink at the quiet bar next door, if you're game."

There was something vulnerable in his expression and you found yourself nodding and taking the arm he offered. "What in the world are these?" you asked.

He looked down at the latex gloves. "Mother's been berating me for not making an appearance at these things," he shrugged, "so here I am. Maybe she should have specified a dress code."

* * * * *

"You know, there's a name for what you're doing," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Malicious compliance."

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that would be me." He looked back up at you, eyes sparkling, "if she'd wanted me to wear a tux, she should have said so."

"Would you have, though?" you prodded, "I have a feeling you would have figured some way to twist that dress code around. You were always the clever one."

"Not so clever if I never got you to go out with me."

You stared at him for a few seconds. "Aemond, you never asked."

"I'm asking now."

He placed a few bills on the table and placed his hand palm up on the table.

You narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh, and then placed your hands on his, and let him lead you out the door.

* * * * *

"How is Helaena liking Naath?"

"She loves it there. She has to get her shot every six months but she doesn't care, as long as she can keep studying the butterflies."

"And Aegon?"

"He stopped drinking after he shaved off his head, said it didn't suit his perfectly shaped skull."

You laughed, remembering Aegon's rather oversized ego, and then stole a glance at Aemond. "What about you? How have you been?"

He shrugged, "the company is doing well, family's good," he looked at you, "and I'm on a wonderful date."

You raised your eyebrows, "oh it's a date, is it?"

You could have sworn he blushed, but he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back. "It very much is, but I do have a problem." He looked at you very seriously. "I need to lose these damn gloves."

* * * * *

It took about twenty minutes of careful tugging and maneuvering but finally, Aemond was free of the gloves and while you got two coffees to keep you going, he headed to the bathroom to wash his arms.

Back on the street, he grabbed your hand in his as he sipped at his coffee. "This is much better."

"So where on earth does one get this sort of getup to shock Alicent Hightower?"

He smiled. "My friend is a stylist and he hooked me up. His girlfriend is a makeup artist and she put all this stuff on my face and hair."

"You look amazing," you said sincerely, "your eyes look super blue."

"I could feel mom's blood pressure spiking as she noticed the eyeliner and highlighter," he laughed. "It was worth it."

"I bet she'll say extra prayers for you tonight."

Nodding, he took another sip of his coffee. "Not enough prayers in the world," he mused. You stopped to drink some of your own coffee and he pulled you closer. "And I really want to kiss you."

You looked up at him, your heart beating faster, and then he placed his coffee cup down, and took your face in his hands. He brushed his nose against yours, not rushing you, and then his lips touched yours. He kept the kiss light and gentle, his fingertips threading through your hair as you sighed against him.

He murmured your name as he wrapped an arm around you. You didn't want this to end, this magical night, and then he spoke again.

"Come home with me."

* * * * *

"You feel so damn good," Aemond whispered in the lift, his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The car stopped and the doors opened, and you stepped into his loft, his hands roaming over your ass as you kicked off your shoes and let him pull you up against him.

"I want you so fucking much," you said against his mouth. He led you to his bedroom and you sat down on the edge of the bed as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "Come here, Aemond," you smiled.

He walked up to you, slowly, and you reached up to undo the fastenings on his leather trousers, keeping your eyes on him. Your hand lightly went over where he was already hard as a rock, and he hissed.

You drew down the zipper ever so slowly, biting down on your lower lip.

"I am going to make you pay for this," he gritted out.

"For what?" you asked innocently, starting to tug down the waistband. When you finally freed him, your eyes darting between his cock and his eyes, you licked your lips and took him in your mouth.

"Fuck."

"Hmmmm," you moaned around him, relaxing your throat so you could take him deeper. You could hear Aemond's breathing stuttering as you slowly pulled your lips all the way to the very tip of him and then took him back down your throat, hollowing out your cheeks.

"Fuck," he repeated, "I, uh, I can't-"

You felt him suddenly pull you off him and push you back on the bed.

"This is going to end too quickly if you keep doing that, angel."

"Angel?"

"Look at you," he said, indicating your white shimmery gown. "An angel about to be debauched."

You let one strap of the dress fall off your shoulder. "What does that make you, then?"

He lunged for you, hands on the bed on either side of you, and the smile on his face made you shiver.

"Me? I'm already destined for hell, love."

He took your lips, not slowly or gently this time, but desperately, his mouth all consuming on yours as he demanded entrance with his tongue and you willingly gave it. He was tugging down your dress as he kissed you, long fingers deftly maneuvering the yards of fabric until he had bared your breasts and then he pulled back, looking down at you.

You pushed the rest of the dress down until it fell on the floor, then laid back down and extended your arms to him. "Come here, Aemond," you said for the second time that night.

He shoved down the trousers, kicked them aside and spread your legs open before he kissed you again. He was so warm, his skin ablaze against yours, and you pulled him down to you, unable to get enough of him.

He began to kiss your neck, long fingers teasing your nipple, and then his mouth was on your breast and you moaned, the sharp sting of pleasure making you arch against him. He reached down lower, between your thighs, and you gasped.

"Tell me what you like," he murmured against your lips.

"Oh," you breathed as he settled on a steady rhythm, drawing tiny circles on the knot of nerves, "you're doing fine," you managed.

"Fine is not what I'm aiming for," he said, and slipped two fingers inside you and you cried out, your hips beginning to rock against him. "I want you to come for me," he added, curling his fingertips inside you.

"Aemond," you whispered, one hand on his shoulder, the other grabbing at his hair. "I- I'm-" you pressed your face to his neck a moment before the orgasm barreled through you, your cry muffled against his skin.

You felt him kneeing your legs apart and then he was pushing inside you. As ready as you were for him, he was big, and you bit down on your lower lip, still recovering and still wanting more.

"You can take me," he murmured soothingly as he kissed your temple. "Next time you come, I want to feel it around my cock," he said, and you whimpered as he rocked his hips to fill you completely.

He pulled back slowly, eyes on you, making sure you were okay, and then snapped his hips. You let your head fall back, and felt his teeth on your jaw, raking gently. "So good," he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long," he said as he settled on long, slow strokes. "So fucking long."

"Aemond," you closed your eyes, the feeling of him moving inside you beginning to send you back into that delicious spiral.

He reached between you, fingertips finding you and you moaned. "I can feel you," he said, "you-"

You cried out as you came, and felt him grab your hips to steady himself as he reached his own orgasm.

* * * * *

As reserved and aloof as you had always thought him to be, he hadn't stopped kissing and caressing you in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The man was full of surprises.

"Stay with me," he murmured against your cheek. "Tonight."

"How can I go when you've got me completely caged in," you teased, looking down at the arms he had wrapped around you and the way his legs were tangled with yours.

"Damn, I was trying to be stealthy," he smirked back. "We'll get breakfast, maybe I'll let you lure me back to bed again."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Rewriting history, are we? I remember trying to leave and someone grabbing my arm."

His eyes became serious on yours. "If I could rewrite history, I would have grabbed you a lot sooner." He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "But I mean to make up for it."

You smiled against him, and let him pull you closer, thinking you were only too happy to let him make it up to you for a long, long time.

[athenaswrath]

Until I Found You - Chapter 2

Quinn Hughes x Reader

Word Count: 851

Chapter 1 >Chapter 2< Chapter 3 Chapter 4

When you arrived at the lake house Quinn wasn't there yet, so they decided he was the one crashing on the couch since there were only three rooms and the rest of you were going to sleep in pairs, so it was Trevor and Jamie, Jack and Luke and you with Holtz

While they played football outside, you decided to take a shower to calm your nerves, knowing that I was going to be with them off work for months felt so different, plus Quinn is going to be here any minute, you've heard a lot about him and while Luke and Jack have said that he's so protective over them and he worries a lot they've said that he's quite grumpy, something Nico, Trevor and Cole have confirmed. So you wanted to make a good impression and hopefully your awkwardness was going to allow it just this one time...

"Fuck" you said after you knocked into someone making them spill their beer all over them. Fan-fucking-tastic, there goes your opportunity to get on the good side of the oldest Hughes. "I'm so incredibly sorry, really let me... I can wash your clothes, and grab another beer for you, I wasn't really looking..."

"It's okay, I was going to take a shower now anyways, is nice to meet you" and right after he said that he left and closed the door of the room you just left. To say you were panicking was an understandment the least thing you wanted to do was to make things awkward, he was probably going to complain about you to Jack and Luke, I mean you were the only girl and they were already going to hold some things back because of that...

you don't know how long you've been standing on the corridor when Holtzy grabbed your face "Belle you okay? did you see Huggy?"

"yes... yeah he's.. he said he was going to take a shower" I said pointing at the door while looking down at the wet floor, he followed my sight and I saw understandment flashing on his face "go help the boys downstairs before they set the house on fire I'll clean this... nope, I'll do it" he said before I could interrupt him

When I entered the kitchen the boys were emptying the fridge (Ellen so kindly stored beforehand) trying to find something to defrost. So I sent them to set the table while I prepared something, Jamie being his usual self (a sweetheart that is) came to help me, we've only met a couple of times and for a very short time but he was so easy to get along with. This was the first time he tagged along too, only cause him and Trevor missed each other with Jamie being on the Flyers now. Almost an hour later we took everything to the table where four giant whiny babies were waiting for the food.

We were starting to eat when I heard Quinn running downstairs "Too late, food's gone Huggy Bear" Jack said when he came into view, "This is y/n by the way be nice, I actually like her"

"Wow didn't know you were capable of liking other than yourself" Trevor told him but Jack answered "oh please as if you were any better, you can't even act as if you cared for others" and obviously Trevor's sassiness attacked "because I don't" Jamie, Holtzy and I just looked at each other and smiled.

"Since you won the cup you're less talkative, are you too much for us now Cap?" Trevor told the oldest Hughes while smirking, he knew what he was doing, Jack always tells me that Zegras' favorite pastime is getting on Quinn's nerves "I've always been too much for you Zegras but I'm glad you finally accept it".

They kept throwing snarky comments and while I was glad Quinn didn't mention anything about our encounter, I was still worried that he was upset, so while everyone was getting ready to go to bed, I went downstairs to find Quinn.

"Hey" I said softly "you should go upstairs and sleep there, I mean is your room after all. Holtzy is there but I'm sure Jack or Lu wouldn't mind switching" when he didn't answer I looked at him and he had a small frown while looking intensely at me.

You were caught off guard by the momentary awkwardness that seemed to radiate from him, not used to seeing a Hughes in any other way than the confident and playful boys.

"Thank you, but it's okay if you sleep there. And... I'm sorry, I... What happened earlier was my fault, so you don't have to blame yourself for it, it is nice to finally meet the girl which my brothers feel so close to" he gave me a small smile and headed upstairs where Luke was yelling for him.

With my heart beating slightly faster than usual (which was fast enough already) I slept that night besides a snuggling Holtz, feeling hopeful about having a good time with everyone and a non-uncomfortable interaction with Quinn.

_________________________________________

Note: didn't love this chapter but now that Quinny finally met the reader I'll have more inspiration. Also there's going to be dual POV in the next chapters.

If you have suggestions or you see a mistake (english is not my main language) please let me know!

[vanvelding]

I'm going to say one of the nicest things I can about a show about Star Trek: Lower Decks

They played us like a string quartet.

(Spoilers for 4x09: "The Inner Fight")

Lower Decks was sold a Star Trek/Rick & Morty mashup from the start. The first scene is a drunken Mariner literally harming her sidekick, Boimler. It practically screamed, "Mariner & Boimler a hundred tours! Double-u, double-u, double-u dot Mariner and boimler dot com!"

But of course, it also had Star Trek references. One of the earliest is "Who would win in a fight? Khan or Roga Danar?" Why would anyone else in The Federation know or care who Roga Danar is? And there's no imagination on display for the oldest referential paradigm, "Who would win in a fight?" Lazy. Bullshit.

Of course before the end of season one, Lower Decks showed us it was more than that. Boimler was gaining the kind of experience he needed. The story hinted very strongly that Mariner had been in Starfleet a LONG time. She wasn't a omnicompotent mary sue; she was a Commander with her own philosophy/trauma that compelled her to remain an Ensign.

It was a good show and it stood on its own. The references were used well to create interesting stories ("Twovix"), as part of the setting ("Hear All, Trust Nothing"), or just as a gag here and there ("Kayshon, His Eyes Open" and, like a dozen others). The references to the setting become the background radiation, remarkable in how deep a cut they really are (Vendorians?). I've described it to many people as "Star Trek, but everyone has watched Star Trek."

What it wasn't, was related to its namesake. "Lower Decks" was a surprisingly heavy episode about the younger members of the Enterprise crew and their perspective on the missions of galactic import that the viewer usually enjoys an omnisicent view of.

Lower Decks mentions our main cast don't have that omniscient view, but Mariner is a stone-cold badass, Rutherford was part of a secret effort to develop artificial intelligence, Tendi is the Mistress of the Winter Constellations, and Boimler--actually Biomler is no more exceptional than any other Starfleet officer.

So when we get our main cast and the senior officers into a room and they mention Nick Locarno, our thought is, "LOL, another reference. This one from TNG. Not particularly deep. LOL, Boimler is a Beverly Crusher fanboy. I guess it makes sense, they have the character model from the episode with Tom Paris. Clearly, Robert Duncan McNeil is happy to do some voice work. We'll probably make a reference to how much he looks like Tom Paris.

"lol"

Look, if you figured it out then pat yourself on the back. Me? I filed away another reference. I didn't realize that Nick Locarno was connected to the episode of TNG that was this entire series' namesake. The characters even say, "Who?" which is one of the first times they don't get a Star Trek reference. Because Nick Locarno isn't a part of the Star Trek universe they view with an enthusiastic fandomness; it's part of their dramatic history, whether they know it or not.

"ha-ha, I guess Nick Locarno is too deep a cut for the show that called back to Morgan fucking Bateson."

But whatever, A-plot/B-plot. Gags about Starfleet habitually rolling up to seedy establishments in uniforms while looking for information, which is subverted by Captain Freeman being fucking genre savvy (also, wasn't she going to be promoted before getting arrested at the end of season two? I guess getting framed for a crime was deemed to be not very 'admiral-able'). Mariner ends up in a cave with a Klingon taking shelter from a crystal rain.

The pieces are there. Mariner was an ensign during The Dominion War. Two to three years before The Dominion War, Wesley Crusher left Starfleet, our Nick Locarno expy Tom Paris was recruited to Voyager, and Sito Jaxa was an ensign.

And Nick Locarno is in play.

We could have figured it out! We're in the narrative and emotional third act of this series (Tendi gave us the "We'll always be friends" speech last week)! Everyone regular just sat in a room trying to figure out how to help Mariner; we were one fruit salad analogy away from an intervention with Dr. Migleemoo!

Mariner escapes from Cardassian interrogation chambers for fun!

But Locarno is just another TNG reference, like Beverly Crusher. Background radiation. The season's story arc is something original to Lower Decks, which it's proven it's unafraid to do at this point. The series has no relation to "Lower Decks"

And then they fucking hit us with it; Beckett Mariner knew Sito Jaxa. They were friends. Then Jaxa died.

That's Mariner's trauma (that and The Dominion War).

And I didn't see it because I came to see Lower Decks as a series that stood on its own merits as a show while calling back to earlier Treks in a light, non-committal way. And I credit that solely to the writing of the show which leveraged both of those qualities to make an entertaining show that I like before, but now respect.

Just amazing stuff.

[leiawritesstories]

Mom, Please!

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompts "Lake" & "Splash"

Word count: ~1k if you squint 😂

Warnings: swearing, teenage antics, Rowan getting grey hairs from stress

Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I hear footsteps," Aelin mumbled, half-drowsy.

"Go back to sleep, Fireheart," Rowan mumbled back, burying his face in her hair. "It's probably just a rabbit or something."

"At---" She cracked her eyes open and stared at the fuzzy numbers on the clock across the bedroom. "One in the morning?"

"Mmmh, fine." Her husband attempted to push himself upright and flopped back into bed with a groan. "Dammit!"

She kissed his shoulder. "Don't throw your back out, old man. I'll go check on things." Aelin pushed herself out of bed and tucked the covers up over her sleepy, grumpy husband, who grumbled something about I'll show you a thrown-out back as she stepped into her slippers and crept out of their bedroom.

The hallway of the lakeside cabin was dark and silent, broken by strips of silvery moonlight filtering in through the skylights. Aelin came into the living room and paused, wondering why the hell the sliding door that led to the patio was cracked open. Had one of the kids forgotten to close it?

And there were those damn footsteps again.

Slowly, she crept up to the windows and nudged the curtain aside just enough to peer out and find---"Gods above, Mom!"

"Holy shit, Lana!" Aelin and her oldest daughter screeched at each other at the same time, and Aelin leapt back from the window as if it had slapped her, wishing she could scrub the sight of Lana and her boyfriend playing tonsil hockey out of her eyes. "Fucking hell," she groaned, rubbing at her eyes with both hands. "It's too damn late for this."

There was a rustling outside the house, and a very sheepish Lana snuck back inside through the patio door to find her mother sitting on the couch with her head buried in her hands. "Mom?" she ventured. "Are you...okay?"

Aelin grumbled something incoherent in reply.

Lana discreetly tugged her sweatshirt's hood up, relying on the shadows it cast over her neck. "Um, Mom?"

"I'm fine," Aelin mumbled. "Just gonna have to tell Yrene about this. You could've at least mentioned that Cal's family was here too."

"I didn't know he'd be here," Lana whispered, blushing an adorably bright pink. "He surprised me."

"Pebbles on your window and all that romantic shit?" Aelin teased.

Lana grinned, her smile a mirror of her mom's. "Yeah."

"Can't hardly blame you, then." Aelin stood up. "Well, I'm going to bed before your overbearing father decides I've been gone for too long and hurts himself trying to find his way down the hall in the dark. G'night, sweetheart."

Rowan, of course, was awake when she came back into the bedroom, fumbling for his glasses. "Stop that, buzzard."

He sighed and flopped back into bed. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just Lana and Cal tangling tongues out behind the patio." She turned onto her side and fluffed up her pillows.

Strangled wheezing erupted from Rowan, and Aelin flipped back over to rub her husband's back until his shock dissipated. "The fuck?" he croaked.

She chuckled and handed him his water. "You know, Lana's boyfriend?"

"I know who," Rowan grumbled. "When? How? Why?"

"Ro, honey, you really don't want me to answer any of that." She kissed his forehead. "Go back to sleep, love."

~

The summer sun shone brightly over the lake, and Aelin lounged comfortably in her chair, enjoying the warmth and the laughter surrounding her family.

"Owww! Get away from me!" The shrill shriek was accompanied by a pair of feet sprinting towards Aelin and a smaller body taking refuge behind her chair. "Mom, Bran keeps shooting his stupid water gun at my face!" It was Charlotte, their third child.

"It's not my fault you're afraid of your stupid lashes falling off!" Bran, who was nearly sixteen, yelled back at his younger sister.

Indignant, Charlotte gasped and stood up, planting her hands on her hips. At fourteen and a half, she was the most strongly opinionated of the Whitethorn kids, and she wasn't afraid to show it. "You take that back!" she demanded, and when Bran told her to make him, she picked up a nearby bucket and headed for him.

Aelin opened her eyes and watched her wildfire daughter dump a whole bucket of lake water over her oldest son's head, which resulted in him screaming like a little girl because a frog had happened to be in the bucket and had now found a new home in the back of Bran's swim trunks. She chuckled to herself.

"Kids these days," Lana fake-sighed as she walked past, three more baby frogs cradled carefully in her hands.

"Says the kid who snuck her boyfriend over in the middle of the night," Aelin deadpanned.

Lana's face went scarlet. "Mom, please! Everyone can hear!"

"Just like last night," Aelin added. She winked. "Uncle Fen would be so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Oh my gods," Lana groaned. "You're the---"

"Are those frogs?" A younger voice broke into the conversation, eager eyes peering at Lana's hands. Rielle Whitethorn, the older of the twins by three and a half minutes, jumped up, trying to see the little frogs as Lana put her hands up higher. "I wanna see the frogs, Lana!"

"Shhh!" Lana shot a look over towards where Bran and Charlotte had moved their water gun fight into the lake, joined by Cal and two of his brothers. "I'm gonna dump them on Bran's head." She winked at her little sister. "Wanna join?"

"Hell yeah!"

Aelin lowered her sunglasses. "Rielle Enna Whitethorn!"

"Sorry, Mom." Rielle was ten, and she and her twin brother Declan were like sponges around the older siblings that they idolized. She ran off, following Lana down to the lake, and Aelin watched with her smile hidden behind her book as the two of them crept up behind Bran and successfully released the frogs onto his head.

He howled and scrambled frantically, arms flailing, until he finally gave up and ducked beneath the water to get the frogs off of his head. Aelin snickered, beyond pleased that her children had inherited her fondness for fun little pranks.

Down in the lake, Cal slung his arm around Lana, and she rested her head on his shoulder and smirked up at him. He leaned down, whispered something in her ear that made her shake with laughter, and pressed his---

"Gods above," Aelin groaned, shoving her face into her book.

Not again.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Uncharted Territory

Billy Kimber’s Daughter

Possessive! Thomas Shelby x Reader Kimber

Summary: Your first encounter with Thomas Shelby, and your relationship between the two of you a month later.

WordCount: 3.1k

Stable, was all you could say about your relationship with Thomas Shelby. Relationships with him weren’t unknown but there were very few who stuck around for longer than just a night. Thomas was one who sought after you, after that faithful day at the Garrison; you shouldn’t have even been there but your father insisted. However he said to stay in the car and wait, after this little meeting with the man who fixed a race; you needed to get your dress for the derby the following evening. Remembering that day like it was the night before.

“Right, he’s the oldest, you’re the thickest. I’m told the boss is called Tommy and I’m guessing that’s you cos’ you’re looking me up and down like I’m a fucking tart”

The door behind your father creeks, and he turns his head before lowering it in disappointment. Thomas, Arthur, and John all move in their seats to look at the person, John put his hand on his gun belt along with Arthur.

“you’re just like your mother.”

Kimber notices their hands on their gun belts, clearing his throat and gently pulling you behind him he looks at them.

"I'm gonna have you shot against a pole if you don't take your fuckin' hands off the guns. She means no harm; just insanely impatient."

Thomas noted your small frame and waved for his brothers to stand down.

"Women ain't part of this deal, Kimber." pausing, looking back at you "You and I both know that all too well."

"So, why'd you bring her in the first place?"

"Well, I thought this bloody meeting would be over quick, didn’t I? Instead of wasting time going back home to fetch her for those measurements for the new dress for the derby tomorrow, I just brought her here. Told her to stay in the car, didn't I?”

“You said it would be over by 10, it’s 11 now!”

Gritting your teeth and biting your tongue before you said anything else, but Thomas stood up and asked Kimber to move so he could see you.

"Is this what you handle? All day long?" Thomas stares at you, eyes cold and calculating, before turning the Kimber, his voice low and dangerous."Is she with anyone?"

"Oh, bloody hell no, she's not dating unless the lad can offer her what I've given her growing up... and that ain't happened yet, has it?"

“No..no it hasn’t”

“Kimber I’ve never seen her at the races before, you hiding her?”

Kimber looked at him before smiling

"She stays put where I'm at, see? She don't get the choice to wander when I ain't around."

Clearing your throat, and standing in with your back facing your father. You spoke up about your feelings.

"‘E's fuckin' stupid, that's what it is."

"Another reason why she can’t walk around, she runs her mouth like a bloody sailor. It makes me look bad."

Kimber runs his fingers through your hair and fixed it to his liking

"Oi, what's her age, then? Legal, ain't she?"

Kimber thought about it for a second, before nodding and saying you’re nineteen.

"Aye, you reckon you can handle her, lad? I'm warning you, she may seem calm now, but she ain't one for stoppin' and listenin'. It's like there's no brain up there, I tell ya."

You bit your tongue before deciding it was worth it.

“I have a fuckin' brain, I was top of my math class”

"Sweetheart, I'm just givin' you a hard time about it. I know you're extremely smart with numbers, but actin' proper, is where ya’ struggle."

“Should I meet the description of what you want in a partner, then I shall court her to seal this deal. Sound like a plan?"

Thomas sat back down his chair and pulled out a cigarette and lighter then lighting it.

“It'd be a smart move, but it's her call. 'Cause this is for your gain, not mine."

His eyes fixed onto yours

"Tell me, love, what's your verdict?" Thomas exhales smoke slowly, his gaze unwavering, piercing through the veil of the Garrison.

And the rest was history, the derby ‘date’ went outstandingly well for us. Thomas was very kind and generous with you, your father even let you and him walk around alone instead of being cooped up in the box you normally sit in. The deal was agreed upon after that day and he could see I was delighted to have someone different to talk to besides him or the maids. The most memorable thing of that day was the kiss you shared after he said goodbye to you, it felt real and intimate and not like it was false. Thomas learned you really loved riding horses, painting, and of course cooking. Meeting him felt like putting the last piece of a puzzle together.

Stopping by the Marquis Pub on your way home, well Thomas’s home. One of your favorite bartender Nicolas Tennant was in that pub and you loved talking to him about your relationship with Thomas and how it was going. You felt like celebrating for an odd reason but why ignore it.

“Ello’ Nicolas how’s the family doing?”

Nicolas looked up and stuck his head out from behind the bar top, with a great big smile that could cut through paper.

“Oh, miss Kimber how are you doing today?, and the family is doing well”

“I’m feeling really grand to the point where I feel like celebrating”

The both of you chatted and caught up with each other’s lives and then you asked;

“Do you happen to have a bottle of red wine and Irish whiskey?”

He smiled at you once again before nodding his head and turning around to head to the back of the pub. Suddenly, you felt a sense of despair and pain looming over you and you turn around to see a man who’s about a foot taller than you and drunk.

“I’ll pay you £10 to have you for the night, come on baby what’do ya say~”

“No, thank you. I’m not one of those”

“Every woman is if you pay them enough, come on..”

“I’ve said no! I’m seeing someone!”

"Oi, come on now… I'm tellin' ya, I'm taller than 'im, stronger, faster, and bigger, yeah? Jus' give me a chance, love. Why you wastin' time with 'im? I got the money. Don't be daft, let's 'ave a good time, eh? You won’t regret it, I swear!"

Taken aback by this statement you leaned into the bar top, but you couldn’t move any further. The man wrapped his hand around your waist and brought your hips against his. You put your hands up against his chest and pushing away from him.

Nicolas walked back to the bar top with the liquor in a brown paper bag. Shocked by the sudden change in the atmosphere he spoke up;

“Are you fuckin’ suicidal mate?, that’s a Kimber!”

The man pushed off of you and stepped back, beads of sweat started to roll down his face. He immediately looked at you and got on his knees to beg for his life. It was truly disgusting, you felt dirty. The man noticed your face and decided it would be better if he just left and he did, leaving the pub. Looking back at Nicolas he was sweating as well, he knew that his life was on the line since this happened in his presence. He puts the bag with the bottles on the counter and then says;

“Now, it’s on the house for your troubles..”

“Oh, you really don’t have too, but can I borrow your phone in the back?”

“Sure go right ahead”

The adrenaline rush of what just happened was still rushing through your veins, felt like an adaptation of a stroke mixed with a heart attack. The feeling of being in a state where you couldn’t defend yourself was playing on loop, reminding you that you’re weak. Picking up the phone and sitting down on the desk in the dark and dimly lit back room picking up the receiver and dialing Cheshire 9210. The phone rang twice before picking up and on the other end was Thomas.

“_______ where are you, e’s everythin’ alright?”

“….there was a problem with some guy and-“

You could hear Thomas’s breath exhale when he heard that, cutting you off he asked in a tone that was masking his true nature.

“_______ what’s the man’s name?..”

“I don’t know the man’s-“

You heard a door creek and looked in the sound’s direction, it was Nicolas; apparently he was leaning against the door and pushed it open. Red in the face he looked at you.

“His name’s Lenny Davis, he’s one of my regulars”

Smiling and mouthing the word thank you before waving your hand for him to go away.

“It’s Lenny Davis..”

“Alright, that’s all I needed”

Thomas hung the phone up, you sat on the desk for a couple of minutes before hopping down and heading back into the public space. Nicolas looked like he was already writing his last will and testament. Bless his heart you thought, his pub was a lovely one; maybe you could have him spared since he had spoken up to the man.

“Stop, calm down..I won’t let Thomas go this far”

You said while pointing around the pub, the Marquis was a lovely pub and you loved talking to Nicolas.

“Your all too kind to be in this town”

“I know..”

You stood in the front driveway, just standing there for a bit while look around at the cars to see whose missing. He was..great. But it wasn’t all bad at least you knew Ada was there. Oh how you loved talking to Ada, she could understand the feeling of being a Shelby and having eyes on you as soon as you left the home.

You still were getting used to the Arrow Head House, it was a bit bigger than your childhood home. You’d moved in a week after being with him. He wanted to be able to watch you more than anything. Possessive little fucker.

“_______, where on earth have you been?”

“Ada! Oh it’s so good to see you!”

Ada opened her arms and walked over to you, giving a big hug.

“Whatcha’ got in that bag?”

She asked while pointing to it.

“Whiskey and red wine”

“Did yah buy it?” Ada started to walk into the hallway making a signal to follow. “You know Thomas doesn’t like when his woman buys things for him that he can get for himself..”

Pausing and placing the brown bag with the bottles in it on one of the hallways side tables.

“That’s the fing’ i got ‘em on the house”

“How did ya’ fuckin’ do that?”

“Thomas didn’t say anything about my whereabouts?”

Ada rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“That’s the fing’ you know they don’t tell me anythinf”

Sighing you picked up the bag and pulled out the wine bottle.

“We can mull it over with this, because yah gonna need it.”

“Alrigh’ I’ll be in the den waiting for you..”

Time passes by and eventually you come down the grand staircase in a set of nightwear that had been embroidered with little roses. Thomas got it for you. You joined Ada in the den.

How many of ‘em left?”

“Obviously, Thomas but John, Arthur, Finn, Micheal, Isaiah and Jonny Dogs..”

Ada took a sip of wine, letting it mull over in her mouth.

“What fuckin’ happened?”

You smiled and held I finger up while taking a sip of wine as well.

"I was at the Marquis, fetching the whiskey and wine, and while I was waiting, some drunkard named Lenny Davis started pestering me. I felt utterly disgusted with myself because I could have called out for help. But he took me for a prostitute and kept pushing, relentless. It wasn't until Nicholas returned and shouted that I was a Kimber and a Shelby associate, that Lenny finally backed off."

Ada’s eyes went wide for a moment, before she took another sip of wine.

“Yeah, he’s fucked..”

“You swear they didn’t say anything to you before they left?”

“_______, honey I love you a lot but I told you what I know..which is nothin’..”

Ada stood up and held her finger up before the wine glass down and disappearing into the hallway, you heard her rumbling footsteps as she came back to eyesight. She had a small pink little box with a ribbon tied in a bow around it and it was white.

"Oh, how could I forget. Your father paid a visit earlier to leave a gift for you. He stayed for a little while but then left with them once Tommy got off the phone wit’ yah.”

Ada handed you the box and you placed it by your side.

“He joined them…?”

“I know right, it felt odd seeing ‘em all, for one reason..it looked like a circus act watchin’ pile into the car”

Suddenly you heard the unique sound of an engine purring, Ada and you froze. Looking at eachother’s eyes, both standing up. Ada picked the bottle up and poured the rest of the wine into both glasses.

“I knew this bottle wasn’t going to last this night..”

You heard the car doors shutting.

“Please don’t let there be a lot of blood on their clothes”

Ada rolled her eyes while setting the glass down.

“_______, honey I love you but you always ask for the obvious to not happen.”

“Are you sayin’ I can’t have hope?”

“Hope isn’t a thing if you’re a Shelby”

The grand entrance doors opened with help from the maids. The footsteps only got louder and louder as they all made their way to the den. You looked down at the carpet, then where they would be coming from.

"Don’t you dare come into this room! I do not want blood on my carpets! You and your lot can clean yourselves up outside first!"

Thomas spoke up with a small laugh.

"We weren't planning on bringing him in there, love. Don't worry, we'll sort it out elsewhere."

"You brought him into our home?! Look at the state of you!” then it finally registered that this man was in your home "YOU BROUGHT HIM INTO OUR HOME?!" you hissed, your eyes wide with alarm as you glanced nervously at the bloodstained men entering the house.

This man was..roughened up while they were on their way to Arrow Head..he wasn’t dead but he just..there. The smell of iron started to fill the air causing you to cough a little. Alarm bells rang through your head when you looked at Thomas..his were shaking a bit, knuckles were bloodstained. Your father stepped through the group as his looked at your face, he could tell you were afraid. Kimber fixed his shirt collar. Drenched in sweat, god it looked disgusting. Thomas spoke up and a dry voice.

"My love... he hurt you. He chose death for doing so."

"Get him out of here, Thomas! I won't have you bringing that violence into our home!" You hissed at him , your voice trembling with anger and fear.

"I'm just protecting you. None of this would be possible without me by your side."

"That's not the point, Thomas! I can't bear to watch a man die in front of me, especially not like this!"

"Alright boys, take ‘em to the basement. turning to look at the empty wine bottle and then Ada. Ada, I recommend you leave me alone with _______”

Thomas stood in the dimly lit room, the weight of his actions hanging heavy in the air. His love, shaken and wide-eyed, had just seen the aftermath of his brutal world—a world he had always tried to shield them from. The tension was palpable, the room thick with the scent of blood and the echoes of violence. Seeing the fear and distress etched on their face, Thomas felt a pang of guilt. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos around them. “Look at me.”

"All I ever wanted was to protect you, love. Everything I do, it's for you."

"Thomas... you frightened me. You know I can't bear seeing what those men look like after you've dealt with them."

He gently reached out, his calloused fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. With a tenderness that seemed almost out of place for the ruthless leader of the Peaky Blinders, he guided you into his arms. “It’s alright,” he whispered, cradling their head against his chest, his hand moving to stroke your hair in a rhythmic, calming motion. Thomas took a deep breath, his own heartbeat steady and reassuring. “You’re safe,” he continued, his tone firm yet comforting. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not ever.” He paused, letting the silence stretch for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

“I know what you saw was…horrible,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “This life, it’s not what I wanted for you to see. But sometimes, it’s necessary.” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and sincere. “I need you to trust me. To believe that I’m doing everything I can to protect us. To protect you.” His hand continued its soothing motion, petting your hair as he drew her even closer, creating a cocoon of intimacy amidst the chaos. “I would burn the world to the ground before I let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet each word resonated with fierce conviction.

In the embrace, he allowed you to lean into his strength, to find solace in the arms of a man who, despite his ruthlessness, loved you with an intensity that defied the darkness surrounding them. The world might be brutal, but in that moment, with Thomas holding you, you found a sanctuary where fear had no place. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch firm yet infinitely gentle. The roughness of his palms contrasted with the softness of your skin, a reminder of the harsh world he inhabited and the tenderness he reserved solely for you. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, wiping away the trace of a tear.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. “I need you to know how much you mean to me. More than anything.”

With a final, reassuring stroke of your hair, he leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with a thousand unspoken promises. His lips moved over yours with a tenderness that belied the brutal world outside, each kiss a silent vow of his love and his regret for the pain he had caused you. He poured everything into that kiss—his need to protect you, his sorrow for your distress, and the fierce love that drove him to such lengths. His hands slid to the nape of your neck, holding you gently yet securely, as if anchoring you to him in the midst of the turmoil.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in steady, calming waves. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, his voice rough with sincerity. “But I swear to you, I’ll always be here. Always.” In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of what had happened, the kiss was a beacon of their connection, a testament to the strength of their bond amid the darkness.

Author Notes:

I made the little pictures and added smoke along with the little sparkles! Oh my gosh it’s so freaking cute!!

Please don’t harp on me for the phone number and yes it’s at the arrow house instead of the beginning of where they stay, Thomas just made bank after you became a couple.

Love yah!

[yeetmeoutthewindowdaddy]

A deep dive into Zevlor's devotion (Part 3) Zevlor's actions during Act 1, an analysis of a man who is barely holding on:

THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR BG3.

These series of posts were originally one loooooong post— but apparently Tumblr has a character limit, and I found it; so now it's been split into several parts/posts.

(Part 1) Everybody hates tieflings, and how discrimination impacted a young Zevlor.

(Part 2) Elturel's history and culture, the Hellriders, and Zevlor's paladin oath. (Part 2.5)

((Part 3, this post, is where the meat a good chunk of my Zevlor analysis is.))

(Part 4) Zevlor's actions during Act 2, an analysis of a broken man.

(Part 5) Zevlor's actions during Act 3, an analysis of a man with his faith restored.

(Part 6) Zevlor's actions during/ after the epilogue, not all endings are happily ever after— especially not for a tiefling.

(Part 7) Zevlor in a romantic relationship.

I don't think many bg3 players understand just how dedicated and loyal of a person Zevlor is. This ADHD hyper-fixation fueled multipart-thesis is meant to show how Zevlor's past is as tragic as any of the origin characters'/ Durge's. It's meant to show how horrifically broken Zevlor was when he "betrayed" the other tieflings. It's also meant to show that our beloved blorbo would probably be fervently obsessive if he was in a romantic relationship.

Most importantly: It demonstrates how our favorite man Zevlor was most likely a fanatical religious zealot my dudes. He was (probably) a part of the Faerûn equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition lite.

I have kept this as factual as I am able to. Please keep in mind that Baldur's Gate 3 plays it fast and loose with the DND/ Forgotten Realms canon and lore, on top of DND/ the Forgotten Realms itself regularly disregarding and changing it's own lore and canon. DND lore and canon as a whole is a mess. It has multiple universes that sometimes interact and are maybe separate from each other. Full disclosure; I've mixed 1e-5e lore together FUCK 5.5e, because parsing through what is currently considered canon is a nightmare. As far as I'm concerned, as long as a piece of lore was canon at some point in the past 50 years— it's fair game. @y-rhywbeth2 in this post has a more in depth disclaimer. Also please check out their headcanons and lore breakdowns, they're so good.

THIS PROJECT TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE. I've tried to find all grammatical and spelling errors. I've tried to ensure that I've cited the correct sources in the correct places.

Before reading this way to long post please look at itsclydebitches analysis on Zevlor. [Alt] Which provided me with so much insight to his character and kickstarted my obsession with him. Also, @itsclydebitches puts ideas into words better than I do.

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

● (Part 1) Zevlor before the events of BG3:

Here is what we know, for sure, about Zevlor:

Zevlor is a tiefling.

Zevlor achieved the rank of commander in the Hellriders.

He survived the city's fall into the Hells.

He was a paladin.

He does not have Darkvision.

Finally, here are the headcanons I have cobbled together based on the available albeit often times conflicting information I have gathered: (Hard facts are in green, everything else is speculation on my part.)

The youngest I would put Zevlor at is his mid 50's. The oldest I would put him at is his late 60's.

So this means that he was approximately 5-15 years old during the vampire crisis. Mentally, these are very formative years for a person. It really isn't a stretch of the imagination to assume that this, along with the miraculous appearance of the companion, set young Zevlor on the path to becoming a paladin and a Hellrider.

There aren't many elderly Hellriders around because most die in the line of duty. To have survived into his old age is a testament to Zevlor's skill, dedication, and luck divine favor.

(AN: In Zevlor's Sleep Stories, "a non-profit project created for and run by fans of Baldur's Gate 3 and its characters.", in episode # 8 - Oathsworn Glenn McCready, the official VA of Zevlor, (I only point out that the stories are narrated by the official VA because I think it's really cool that he and the fans have collaborated on the project. It is not meant to imply that him narrating the project means he has any opinions on how Zevlor is depicted in them, nor is it meant to lend any weight to the Sleep Stories being regarded as canon. Please check it out, it's an amazing project.) narrated a story in which Zevlor was stated to be 10 years old when the Companion first appeared— making Zevlor ~60 during the events of BG3. Zevlor's Sleep Stories is NOT canon, but I'm going to view this one story as canon in my heart; unless/ until Larian releases content/ info that contradicts it.)

This post [alt] by @nightmarist and @space-blue with contributions from @haru-sen is a wonderful source for some history of Elturel, how the Hellriders and Zariel are connected, how paladin's and their oaths work, and an analysis of how being exiled from Elturel changed/ impacted Zevlor's oath.

Zevlor would have had to devote himself 3x more than a non-tiefling Hellrider would've:

Hellriders were held to a high moral standard in a city that already had strict moral codes of conduct.

The Order of the Companion members took the Hellriders dedication a step further by swearing an oath to the city on a god.

Zevlor would have been under intense scrutiny for the crime of being a tiefling. For him to have made the rank of Commander despite this means that he proved, beyond a shadow of a shadow of a doubt, that he was devoted to protecting Elturel.

For added angst I like to headcanon that he had only achieved the rank of Commander a few tendays before Elturel fell into the Hells. And that it took so long for Zevlor to achieve the rank of Commander because he was rejected for promotions in favor of someone who wasn't a tiefling, even if they were less suited for the job than Zevlor was. And that if he wasn't a tiefling then he would've become a commander many years earlier.

Which means that for the entirety of his adult life Zevlor wholly devoted himself to being a Hellrider. He had to forsake everything else, being a Hellrider was his life's purpose.

That level of dedication cannot be faked or forced. He truly believed in being a Hellrider and what the Hellriders stood for/ represented.

And he was thanked for his years of unyielding service by being

● (Part 2) Banished from Elturel:

Zevlor's years of service, his countless sacrifices, and unwavering dedication to the protection of the city and its inhabitants meant nothing to the people of Elturel after the city was returned from the hells. Tieflings looked like the devils that had tormented them in hell (nevermind that the tieflings were also subject to the abuse from devils) and as such they were blamed for the city's Decent into Avernus.

"Many if not all the city's tieflings were exiled from the city, thanks to a new wave of misplaced fear and newly-formed prejudice."

This hatred from the people he loved so dearly didn't lead to Zevlor breaking his oath, it shattered Zevlor's very faith itself. (FFS, I can't find a clip of the Narrator describing Zevlor's time in/ just after Avernus when you click on him when he's in the mindflayer pod in Act 2. Please just trust me on this one.)

Zevlor didn't break his oath, it was broken for him. Hellriders swear to "Serve the realm of Elturgard, and defend the city of Elturel body and soul.", and he was forced to abandon the city.

Earlier in this series I had mentioned how exiled Hellriders were stripped of their gear before being cast out of the city. Zevlor, and the other tiefling Hellriders at the end of the game, still have some of their Hellrider gear. [alt] This makes me think that the other Hellriders refused to completely strip their tiefling family members of their gear because they did not agree with the city's bigoted decision. Letting them keep their gear would have been a subtle hint (and resistance to the city's authority) that the other Hellriders still considered their tiefling comrades as fellow Hellriders.

Whether the exiled tiefling Hellriders were still considered members of the Hellriders by the remaining Hellriders or not, Zevlor was now a

● (Part 3) Refugee:

But Zevlor still had a purpose, he and his fellow banished tiefling Hellriders swore to defend the civilian refugees on their journey to Baldur's Gate.

Tilses, and I assume the other Hellriders, still referred to Zevlor as Commander, and still considered him a Hellrider. She believed that no one could revoke their membership to the Hellriders, but Zevlor did. "They can [take away our Hellrider membership], and did. Avernus changed things — best we get used to that." - Zevlor

They were attacked multiple times on the road, and they had many casualties, and so Zevlor carried on as he always had— as a paladin sworn to protect his people. The refugees and the other, younger, Hellriders needed him to be a strong leader with unwavering faith, so that's what he was— but it was all an act. An act that got harder and harder to keep up as the days wore on and the rations, and survivors, dwindled.

But then they stumbled upon a possible salvation,

● (Part 4) The Emerald Grove:

They were welcomed in with open arms by the Archdruid Halsin. For the first time in who knows how long the refugees could rest. Sure, most of the other druids seem to barely tolerate the tieflings— but the Archdruid had made his position on their continued sanctuary within the grove clear.

And then the Archdruid Halsin went off with a set of very inexperienced and racist adventures, leaving a woman who could barely hide her contempt for the refugees as temporary Archdruid. Which should have only been for a few days at most, Zevlor knew he could play nice long enough to placate Kagha until Halsin returned, it was fine.

But Halsin didn't return, because he'd been kidnapped. And worse, Zevlor find this out because those inept adventures brought a pack of goblins right to the gate of the Grove.

I think the goblin attack was when Zevlor truly began to crumble. He would've been overwrought with guilt and self-doubt. Had he not spent ~20 seconds berating and interrogating Aradin over leading goblins straight to the Grove, and instead used that time to open the gate, then Kanon's death could've been avoided.

Worse still is that he ordered a man who wasn't wearing any armor to open the gate. Zevlor blames himself for Kanon's death, and he would mentally self-flagellate himself over his own cowardice: How he, a Commander in the Hellriders, took cover while Kanon, a tailor by trade, bravely continued opening the gate while the goblins were firing arrows at him.

After a hard-fought battle, the goblins are defeated. Then Aradin swaggers in acting as though he didn't just do a profoundly stupid thing by leading the goblins straight to defenseless citizens. Not only that, the uppity shithead Aradin blames Halsin for getting himself kidnapped. And then Aradin strikes a nerve, calling Zevlor a coward (and a slur). I think that Zevlor is already contending with his own guilt from thinking that he himself acted cowardly. For Aradin to call him a coward, on top of all the other stupid shit he's been spouting off, is too much to bear, and Zevlor's rage/ self-loathing is about to erupt into violence.

Luckily, the group of actually competent adventures who arrived and saved the day also managed to diffuse the tension between Zevlor and Aradin.

Or not. Leading to Zevlor punching the overtly racist idiot.

Punching Aradin (acting on his inherent desire for violence*, specifically) is something that I believe is wildly out of character for Zevlor. Aradin isn't the first mouthy prick he's come across, and if Zevlor had responded with violence to all of them then he wouldn't have been able to become a Commander. The stress Zevlor's been under has finally boiled over, and now that he no longer considers himself a Hellrider (and is constantly in survival mode trying to keep himself and the other tieflings alive), keeping a tight lid on his anger isn't something he really cares about anymore.

*"Tieflings also had access to an ability known as infernal wrath, which channeled their innate rage and potential for evil into their attacks for added effectiveness."

I cannot emphasize enough how much self discipline and restraint Zevlor has. His infernal heritage in combination with the overt discrimination he has undoubtedly faced his entire life, plus a healthy dose of pride, are a vicious cocktail of honestly justified anger issues. (AN: Based on him having more physical infernal features than the other tieflings do [alt] I headcanon that he possesses a temper closer resembling a devil's than the less infernal-looking tieflings do.)

Zevlor has been unchained. When it becomes clear that diplomacy won't work Zevlor tells the player that Kagha is their main obstacle, and that without her influence the other druids may see sense. The way he phrases this sentence allows Tav to "read between the lines" and see that Zevlor is open to killing Kagha, while also giving himself plausible deniability. Zevlor didn't suggest murdering Kagha, Tav did. Zevlor is "still hoping that Kagha can be swayed from this madness.", but if not... well, surely Tav understands how "Leaders need to make tough decisions. We do what we must."

Notice how slyly he phrased that— "we", subtly putting himself and Tav in the same category/ on the same team. But most importantly he never outright says to Tav "I want you to kill Kagha", it's implied. His 17 charisma and years of politicking around racism and red tape really shows here; because if shit goes south and Tav fails in their assassination attempt then, even if he has ingested a truth serum, Zevlor can honestly tell the druids that he never asked Tav to kill Kagha. If Tav doesn't suggest killing Kagha then Zevlor doesn't bring it up, and instead asks Tav to take out the goblin camp leaders.

(I am only citing this one dialogue tree option. There are more dialogue tree options, but I can't find videos of them and I am currently unable to play BG3 to explore the different options myself.)

Zevlor is proficient in using manipulation tactics and his knowledge of psychology to garner his preferred outcome. To be clear— I don't think he would have acted in such an underhanded way before being exiled, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I do think that pre-descent Zevlor was no stranger to using manipulation/ his psychological insight to achieve his goals, he would've had to because of the prejudice he faced, but it would've been used for more benign reasons (such as being treated with basic respect instead of open contempt).

(AN: Manipulation in and of itself isn't inherently bad, we all use manipulation to some extent in our day to day lives. So long as they are not abused little white lies and benign manipulations, along with having/ using tact, allow society to smoothly function. Like how saying "Please get me a glass of water." is perceived more favorably, and is more likely to convince a person to get you a glass of water, than "Get me a glass of water." Saying please is considered polite, and people are much more likely to acquiesce to a request if someone is polite. 'You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.' Or how you might wait until after someone has eaten to ask them for something, because they're more likely to agree to your request when they're not hangry.)

Zevlor was once a very proud man, and he had every right to be— becoming a Commander in the Hellriders is a remarkable achievement. Becoming a Commander in the Hellriders in the face of profound discrimination? Nothing short of a triumph. The Zevlor we meet at the Grove is a shadow of the man he used to be. The fall into Avernus and everything that happened after it has sucked most of the life out of him.

We still catch glimpses of the proud Hellrider Commander with the power of god and anime on his side that Zevlor once was. This post [alt] by @dimmadoome demonstrates not only Zevlor's pride, but his infernal temper and possessiveness (which I will cover in a different post). Listen to his speech here. This is a man who has lead his fellow warriors into battle. A man who fought for what he believed in and refused to give up even in the face of insurmountable danger. You can see the hell fire in his eyes blazing bright with righteous fury.

And then there's the speech he gives after defeating Minthara. Note his emphasis on the tieflings being not just survivors, but family. When he says 'family' he has a proud, gentle smile. (His high charisma and experience with giving rousing speeches may be the only reason why his mien changes during this part of his speech, but I think he's being sincere.) If you start that video from the beginning you can see him take a moment to collect himself because he's exhausted, but he knows his people need him to be a strong unflappable leader.

(Did you catch how he quickly pivots from hauteur "Tymora smile on me." to deference "We did it. You did it."? Manipulate, mansplain, malewife the hell out of them Zevlor.)

This portion of the video highlights Zevlor's loyalty to his comrades in arms. He calls Tav family— remember, Hellriders are extremely loyal to one another (and tieflings are very loyal to those who prove themselves trustworthy), this is how he behaved towards all his fellow Hellriders before he has cast out of Elturel. His faith is still broken, but Tav/Durge/Origin has reignited a glimmer of hope in him.

I think this is the only time I've ever seen this poor man actually relax and smile. But then he immediately goes back to looking pensive and walled off. I may be delulu and reading too far into things, but I don't think this is merely his character model returning to its default— I think it demonstrates exactly how Zevlor has been living for years: Silently admonishing himself for letting his guard down and his control slip. Desperately wanting to let go and forget himself and his propriety for a while but being unwilling, possibly unable, to do so.

That being said he does somewhat relax at

● (Part 5) The Tiefling Party:

There isn't a lot to say here. Zevlor isn't imbibing (much) to ensure that he keeps his wits about him— both so that he can supervise the people who are partying, and keep watch for potential threats. Even though he's not partying, Zevlor is elated to see the tiefling refugees smiling and relaxing. He knows that the journey ahead of them is fraught with danger/ trials and tribulations. He even looks the other way when his people spike the punch to make purple drank.

In Early Access to thank Tav for saving them Zevlor made a (bugged) light show where every light in it represented a life that Tav and Co. had saved. The party is the last time Zevlor is happy and hopeful before everything falls apart, as we will see in the next installation of this series: (Part 4) Zevlor's actions during Act 2, an analysis of a broken man.

Here's a link to the master list for this series.

Thanks for reading!

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Paradise Lost

Pairing: Eden x reader

Description: You weren't gonna give Bailey any of your hard earned money, not this week. Thinking you'll fare better in the woods than town this time of night, you head there. Your plan was to stay in the caves by the lake, and figure out a better situation in the morning. You don't make it that far.

Rating: Not sfw

Content Warning: fem reader with fem parts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Guns, chasing, kidnapping, restraints, dub con/non con, first time, yandere , predator/prey, a disgusting amount of pet names honestly, as always ask to tag

Word Count: 5282

Notes: I wanted to get this out by Halloween, obviously that didn't happen. I've had this idea for a while and the draft since *checks* August 2023, apparently. It's not even the oldest one I just live like this! Eden may seem ooc but I was having a lot of fun so I just ran with it.

Bailey was out of his fucking mind if he thought he was gonna get any of your hard earned cash. You work your ass off every day, foraging in the woods and growing anything in that pitiful little garden by the orphanage, and he thinks he can just take your money now? As if. You wouldn’t let that happen.

Today was the promised day for the money. You couldn’t even remember how much it was, only that it was too much and you wouldn’t let him bully you into complacency. However… that did leave you out, alone, as darkness was slowly closing over the town. You didn’t exactly have a place to crash, either, so as you slowly walk down Domus street you try to consider your options.

You could walk down to the hospital and stay in the waiting room? They might shoo you out if you were caught sleeping though… Maybe you could try calling Sydney? But he was probably still at the church… and it wouldn’t be right to bother him. He probably wouldn’t have the heart to say no. You could break into the massage parlor and rest there as long you were out before they opened. But you had been hoping to pick up some shifts in the future, so that probably wasn’t the best idea…

Where did that leave you, though? Even if the summer air was balmy and warm, there wasn’t a chance in hell you were waiting on the streets tonight. And there wasn’t much you could do with your time and you weren’t quite scared enough yet to hit up the strip club for work. All that was left for you were the woods that had already given you so much. You fancied yourself better in a fight versus a wolf than another person anyways.

So with mind made up and confidence in your step, you head from Domus street into the woods, passing by Gwylyn’s shop and further into the welcoming trees. You always did feel more at home here anyways. You can’t help but smile as you pass by some of your favorite foraging spots and there’s a part of you that kind of wants to do a little now but you push that aside.

In the forest proper there wasn’t that many fantastic spots to rest. But then you recall the set of caves by the lake. Hopefully this late at night your schoolmates were done messing around out there. Plus, you knew a shortcut there to! It would be no problem, especially since you don’t have school tomorrow. So with new hop in your step, you begin to move that way, unbothered by the new darkness around you as the forest seems to come alive.

The sounds of insects and birds comforts you, even when you can hear the occasional wolf call in the distance. You’re already close to the lake when you pause in your step. You can hear rustling ahead, so you duck down to see… a foxboy, looking to and fro as he digs up some bird eggs. You don’t fancy yourself as someone super sneaky but you can’t help yourself, carefully sneaking forward; eyes not on the precious bird eggs but his fluffy tail. You never wanted to pet a tail more than this one…!

The foxboys ears perk up at a sound, and you stiffen. You were so close! But as he quickly turns his gaze to you, he frowns and speaks. “Trying to catch me off guard and steal?”

“N-no!” You sputter, surprised he’s even bothering to speak to you when he easily could have taken his goods and ran. “I um… you looked very soft, I was sneaking to see if I could manage to pet you a little…” You admit sheepishly to him. The foxboy changes in demeanor, turning to you with a grin.

“So you just wanted to get close to me?” You don’t like how you can see the glint of his fangs when he grins. You try to back up away but with you still crouching, the fox is able to leap on you and pin your prone form to the forest floor. “You should have just said so human, I’m unmated…” He murmurs leaning in close to you. Panic starts to seize you as you struggle in his grip.

“Not what I meant! Let me go please please…!” You try to raise your knees to shove him off you but this foxboy is stronger than you anticipated. Your every move seems futile as the foxboy quickly works to take off your clothing. You can’t help the scream you let out, desperation passing by your lips. You’re too far out for Gwylyn to hear you, though. No one could save you from this…

The foxboy digs his nails into your soft skin as he rips away your pants. You close your eyes as tears start to prick at them from the pain. You take a deep, shuddering breath to stop yourself from crying before a thundering nose rings out, blinding the dark forest a moment and clearing your running thoughts for a long moment.

As everything seems to settle, you realize it’s the unmistakable noise of a gun shot, and it has the foxboy skittering off faster than you can even open your eyes. You’re shaking, struggling to sit up and pull up your pants at the same time. In the dying light, you can make out the vague figure of a person, shotgun still smoking in their hands.

For a moment, neither of you speak. You aren’t sure if you should thank them, or start running yourself. The air is thick and uncertain, and you swallow lump forming in your throat as you look up at the person who saved you. Would they prove to be an actual savior, or just as bad as the beast before them?

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out in the woods so late at night?” His voice is low, gruff. Even as he lowers his weapon, there’s an undeniable edge to him. Something that demands to be respected.

“Trying to stay out of trouble,” You start, eyeing his dark figure carefully. Thankfully, your pants aren’t entirely destroyed and you’re able to wear them properly, to stand tall and wary in front of your new company. “What has you saving strange girls in the middle of the woods so late?” You ask back, dusting forest debris off yourself. Trying to stay calm, casual. Hoping for the best in him.

“Was hoping to do some hunting tonight.” You don’t like the way he smirks, the way he shifts his weight from one leg to another and cracks his knuckles in his hands. “Think I’ve found the best prey these woods have to offer, anyhow.” Your throat seizes as he says this. You don’t think-- can’t think you just move.

But where is there to run? Your wellies hold up under thundering footfall but you can hear him behind you, hear him laughing as he follows suit. You can’t help but wonder if he would follow you towards town. Or if it would even be safe? There’s so much to consider, so much to avoid, the world around you quickly growing darker and darker in betrayal.

You’re coming across the river, you can hear the rushing water promising you freedom just ahead. If you could swim across, hell even jump in and just let the water take you, you’re sure your pursuer wouldn’t follow. You just had to push a little further, want it a little more, to run, run, run!

That is, until, you feel his weight crashing into you, feel your body crumple under his as he grabs you from behind. The sound of rushing water is so distant now, behind the sound of your own running blood, of your labored breathing and drumming heartbeat.

“Aren’t you smart,” He coos, grunting as you try to wriggle out from under him. But he’s stronger than you, happy to pin you down in the dirt and whisper his victories in your ear. “Trying to lose me in the river, eh? If only you were a little faster…” He tuts softly. Gods, even through your clothing, he could feel how warm you were. How soft. A prize well worth the chase, no matter how short the hunt was.

“Pl, please.” It’s difficult to cough up the word, not when he’s still leaning down on you, applying pressure directly on your overworked lungs. “I, I just…!” Oh goodness, were you crying? “I, I never… I haven’t…!” You can’t even finish your sentence, hiccups threatening your words until a sob racks your body and cuts you off entirely.

“Oh darling,” He almost pities you, but the rush of blood that went straight to his dick makes it hard to think. “Saving yourself for me?” He can’t help but growl as he leans in closer to your neck, taking a moment to truly take all of you in. He had been looking for someone like you. Someone soft and sweet and innocent, someone he could make into his perfect partner. Someone who didn’t know how to fight back.

“...S’pose least I can do is make it special. We’re close to home as it is.” You feel your stomach drop as you hear a belt being undone. You can’t help but close your eyes and whimper, expecting to feel the heat of his body that much closer to you. Instead, you feel warm leather wrap around your wrists and gasp out as you’re unceremoniously lifted and tossed over his shoulders.

Held over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, you have to give your mind a moment to catch up. You could see his shotgun bouncing along his back as he walked, unbothered by your weight. You could feel the ache beginning to start in your shoulders and elbows, forced at an awkward angle where your arms are tied behind your back. You feel your lungs start to settle into normalcy as you can finally breathe again. When you find your voice again, you can only ask “...Home?” The word feels hollow on your tongue. You don’t even know if you have it in you to fight back against him. It all felt inevitable at this point.

“Your new home.” He corrects with a smile to his tone. “Our home now, I reckon.” You decide to continue on in blissful silence as you he takes you farther into the dark of the forest. Not much time seems to have passed as the forest begins to clear out. As he moves forward, you can see dark shapes that aren’t trees or bushes, nothing you can make out now. Your not left long to wonder as you’re brought indoors, and placed down roughly on a bed.

The cabin is well lit, but sparely decorated. You can’t hardly take it in before your yanked closer to the man. Holding you by your bound wrists in one hand, he places another binding on you with his other; a collar, complete with a leash, that he wastes no time wrapping around the wrought iron frame of the bed. You were truly trapped and at his whim now. When he finally speaks again, it seems to spark you out of your stupor. When had you begun to cry so much? You could hardly see his face through the blur of them.

“I’m gonna release your hands now.” The look on his face is stern. There’s a deep crease between the lines of his eyes, and you don’t know if this man has ever worn something other than a frown on his face. “If you’re a good girl for me, this can be nice for both of us.” He places his large, calloused hands over the tie on your wrists. “Can you be a good girl?” His whisper might have meant to been seductive or calming, but it sounded grating in your ears. His deep tone promised nothing good for you.

“I’ll... be a good girl for you.” You dare not raise your voice above a whisper; you don’t move as you see him grin slightly, see a flush come to his face. You don’t even move as one of his hands comes to cup your cheek, wiping away stray tears.

“Good girls get to feel good.” He slowly unbinds the worn leather belt. He’s watching you closely, but you still don’t move, even as your wrists are freed. He looks you over as the belt is tossed aside. “Why don’t you lay down for me, sweetheart?” His pet names make you feel sick. He rubs your sore wrists, even as you move roboticly into place on the bed for him. His hands pet along your soft body, ogling you through your torn shirt and moving to look you in the eyes again. “You really are a sight for sore eyes.” he sighs, so content. You wonder if you’re the first person he’s shared this bed with. Wonder if you’ll be the last.

“Why are you doing this?” Your words seem to surprise him. They surprised you too; he was already getting ready to tear your shirt the rest of the way off your body, but your words stop his movement. “Y-you don’t have to. I-I can still be good for you, but we can… we can…” Your words die down as you take in the darkening look on his face. One last, pathetic attempt for mercy. One that is quickly quashed.

“Oh, darling.” He looks at you; looks at you all soft and sweet, and at his mercy. “You’re gonna be good for me, or you’re gonna see what happens to bad girls.” He frowns at you, as if it were obvious. “And don’t you want me to be good to you for your first time?” He looks at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised. You blink once, confused. But soon you realize; he wants you to play along. You could be pathetic, you could be weak and scared. All the more excuse to comfort and coddle you; you had to play your part right, or he would play his wrong too.

“P-please be nice to me. I’ll be good, I promise.” He likes it when you beg. He likes it when tears spring to your eyes and you go all soft and pathetic for him. Wanted to be the predator to your prey. “Just don’t hurt me.” Wanted to be the one to protect you, too. The best of both worlds, it seemed.

“And I won’t, honey.” He coos, leaning in close to your face. “Just as long as you take everything I give to you.” You find yourself nodding, too scared to speak when he’s nose to nose with you. At that, he smiles; it’s ill fitting on his face. He looks too calm, too serene.

Its worse, perhaps, that he wants to talk you through it. “I gotta get you out of these ruined clothes now, baby.” He’s starting to breath heavy, eyes growing darker with desire. You can only nod and watch as he uses his brute strength to rip open your shirt, tossing it to the side. Your bra is thankfully, treated much more gently, slid from your body until your breasts are bared open to the hungry gaze of the man before you.

He takes his time admiring them. His touch is soft, almost reverent. Far too gentle for what this is; the pads of his rough fingers catch on your soft skin, but it doesn’t stop him. Doesn’t keep him from palming your flesh, and watching with wide, breathless gaze as your nipples harden under him. “You’re such a treat.” You think you might just be, from the way he’s all but drooling over you.

Perhaps you were made to be consumed.

And God, does he ever savor; his touch moves south, ever slow. You wish he would get it over with. Wish he wasn’t so careful, that he would take what he had obviously won already. But he doesn’t; he traces formless designs along the soft dip and curves of your body, reaching the hem of your barely together pants. He lets out a heavy breath through his nose, catching your eyes. “You’re lucky I got to you in time. Gonna treat you so much better than that beast could have.” Would he, though?

The foxboy would have had the decency to make it quick. Would leave you alone after abusing you. Wouldn’t force you to look at him through it all. He wouldn’t pull down your pants with such reverence, with some sort of sick look of love in his gaze.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” His voice had taken on a husky tone, gravel and desire taking up space in his throat as he sees the dark spot on your panties. “And look at you, already bein’ good for me and getting nice and wet.” He pets your pussy, running his fingers over the soft cotton, taking in the shiver that passes through your body. He has his eyes on his prize now, though, and with it so close he can’t help but move fast, tearing your panties off you in one quick motion.

Laying before him, wide eyed, naked, and so, so afraid, you finally find it in you to speak again. “W-what’s your name?” It’s stupid. You shouldn’t care. You should be finding a place far away in your mind to hide while you let this happen. But you can’t run from this. Can’t run from his thumb rubbing circles on the top of your thigh, can’t hide from the drumming of his fingers on your hips. If he’s going to do this to you, if he’s going to keep you here and do so much more… You deserve that much.

“Eden.” Its entirely out of place-- for here, for him. If this was anything, it was paradise lost.

Eden is much quicker in removing his own clothing. A small mercy, perhaps; you felt suffocated in the anticipation of it all. But all too soon, the both of you were naked; Eden, hard and wanting over you, small and trembling.

“Shh, darling. I know…” He coos, scooting in close to you to pull you in a kiss. Its wrong; soft, wanting. Why does he bother with the theatrics? Why won’t he just take what he wants from you, and get it over with? Instead, he goes so achingly slow; tender touches that drive heat down where his fingers lay. His kiss is so full of longing your teeth ache from the feeling of it. “I’ll take such good care of you.” He pulls your legs apart, pushing his knees between them. The starting of a home between your very ribs.

“Protect you,” His fingers glide over your bare cunt, barely there. Were you with a man, or a ghost? What had happened to the bravado of the strong hunter that caught you? “Provide for you…” He teases your entrance with two fingers, collecting your arousal and swirling oh so gently. “Let me take care of you.” Again, he leans in to kiss you.

This time, you kiss back. It can’t have been good; your eyes are closed, screwed tight so you don’t see that love struck awe on his face and you can still feel yourself trembling, trying to move your lips against his in a way you think might please him. You have to be good for him. You have to.

“You are taking care of me,” Your voice is still soft, so afraid to speak up when you can feel him knuckle deep in you, fingering you in a careful, controlled way.

“Then relax for me,” he laughs softly, eyes moving from your face two the way your pussy clenches to his fingers. “You’re so tight, baby. You gotta relax if you want it to feel good.” He coos, those rough pads of his fingers rubbing at your g spot and having your gasping.

“I-I just…” You take a deep, fortifying breath. In. Out. In. Out. Could you manage to relax? You open your eyes to look at him, but he has the same look on his face. Obsessive, full of desire and something you can’t quite read.

“I got ya, pretty girl. You’re okay with me.” An airy chuckle leaves him as he looks to your face. “You can relax with me.” He promises. You try to. You really, really do.

You close your eyes and just try to focus on the feeling of it; lazy movements of his fingers, in and out of you. His big, warm, hand, resting on your thigh, sneaking over to your pussy to brush against your clit. It sends a jolt through you, has you gasping and clenching on his fingers and opening your eyes to look at him.

“That feel good?” He laughs, the sound almost cruel. You nod slightly, unsure if you even wanted it to feel good. You just wanted it to be over with.

“Use your words, sweet girl. You gotta tell me when it feels good.” You can’t help but whimper when he pumps his fingers and rubs your clit in tandem. You keen and chase the friction by bucking your hips, but he suddenly stops. “Told you, good girls speak when spoken too.” His warning is light, mirthful. It was a game right now but that could very quickly change. You swallow thickly.

“M-more, please.” You look up with big, wet eyes. He smiles, pleased with your quick compliance, and continues at the same pace as before. “Faster, Eden.” Your hands had remained glued to your side most this entire time, but now you’re tempted to grab his wrist, to grind against him for some sort of relief.

“That’s a good girl.” His voice is a growl, the tone deep with his desire. You feel him scissor inside you, pushing his long fingers in and thrusting quickly. You just had to focus on that motion. Focus on the electric feeling welling up inside you and chase it. Grind against the delicious feeling of his deft fingers rubbing your clit and just let go--

“I think you’re good and ready now.” It’s a near full system shock as he retreats his hands from you. You hear yourself whine loudly, before sensations come back to you and you open your eyes. Eden has a shit eating grin, even as he brings his fingers up to his mouth to taste of you. As you take deep breaths you dare a look between his legs. His fingers were nothing like what he was packing between his legs-- it was too big. He was too big.

Towering above you, as he traps you between his wide knees. He pushes your legs open wide, wider to accommodate him. “Relax just like I told ya too honey. It’ll be okay.” He reaches to grab your hand and you might had puked if you weren’t so scared. He wanted it to be romantic in every sense of the word, fitting his big fingers through yours with one hand, and holding his cock in the other. “It’s gonna feel a little uncomfortable at first, and I know you don’t like talkin much,” he chuckles, his head flush with your entrance. He looks into your eyes, making sure you hear him. “but you gotta tell me your okay, or if I need to stop.”

Why did it have to be him? Someone so accommodating. You might have had a shred of dignity left to argue with him (to fight back) if he had been mean. If he had hurt you, if he had just taken you by the river like the beast he was trying so hard not to be. But it had to be special. You, had to be special.

“Okay.” You know he won’t move until you tell him too. Perhaps he could hear how fast your heart was beating, or maybe see how your chest was rising and falling in your labored breathing. “Y-you can put it in.” Stupid girl who couldn’t even speak without stuttering. Of course he was going to treat you like a doll.

Somehow, he finds it in him to go slow; he sinks into your welcoming heat with a loud hiss. “Fuck, baby. You’re gonna be the death of me.” You don’t how far in he is, don’t dare to look as you seize up and scrunch your face. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it might but it was still uncomfortable. “Oh baby, you gotta relax.” He laughs as he sees your face. He squeezes the hand he holds again, his free one now coming up to cup your cheeks. “Let me see your eyes, pretty girl.” Like the obedient thing you are, you open them.

“Feels weird,… Eden.” You shift uncomfortably under him. Its not enough to deter him, nothing would be at this point, but it does soften him. He likes it when you call him by his name. Must make him feel closer than the two of you really are.

“I know baby, it’ll feel good soon though. D’you feel like you could take more?” He lets out a heavy breath through his nose. How much he was holding back for you, you couldn’t be certain. You bite your lip, and decide it would be better to get it over with.

“Slow, please.” You had never felt so small as you do now. But as he pushes more of his length into you, you both gasp. You grasp on to his forearm, clench his hand as he pushes. You don’t tell him to stop.

It’s uncomfortable, the feeling of being so full. He must have bottomed out, from the way he’s panting heavy and looking down at you with half lidded eyes. “Honey baby,” You open your eyes again, looking into his. “You feel like heaven, pretty girl. Please, tell me to move.” He grunts out the words, looking for any sign from you.

“I still need, need a second.” You take a deep breath, whimpering as you shift a little. He hisses again, gripping your hip tight a moment before lessening his grip.

“Let me make it better, baby.” He’s quick to move his hand from your hip back over to your clit, rubbing small, quick, circles on it. The sudden friction has you gasping and involuntarily clenching around him, the both of you groaning at the sudden feeling. “Shh, I know honey.”

“S-slow, please. Slow down.” You keen and stress again, until Eden slows his movements, circling your poor clit with more deliberate movements. At this you take a deep breath, and close your eyes.

“Aww, my poor girl.” He coos, watching you. “I think you’re ready, aren’t you?” God, he sounds desperate. He probably is. Even if you aren’t quite ready, Eden was pretending to give you the choice.

“O...okay,” You grip the bed, taking a big intake of breath as he starts to pull out of you. Slowly, until just his head sits you than back in. You just had to focus on the sensation; of his fingers, starting to pick up pace on your clit. Of his cock, dragging against your pussy in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. You just couldn’t look at him. At the way he held you like someone precious, how his eyes held such tenderness and concern and desire.

“Look at me, darling. Need to see you’re okay.” He pants and you unscrunch your face. When had you gotten all wound up? “Oh there’s my pretty girl.” He grins and laughs softly when you look to him. He’s picked up the pace, hand leaving your clit to hold your hip in place as he finally takes his prize. “So wet for me, so good.”

He’s starting to lose himself, like the beast he is. Thoughts of gentleness are all but abandoned as he takes and takes from you. You can’t help the soft noises and moans you make; if you were good, this would be over soon. He would take what he wanted from you and it would be over.

Until the next time, of course.

“E-Eden, I’m close.” You had been focusing so hard on that little bundle of feel good in you, you failed to realize just how brutal Eden had gotten. Slamming into your hips, bullying his cock into your virgin hole again and again. Struggling to maintain his pace, eager to feel you.

“Me too darlin’, it’s okay. You can cum when ever you want.” He was out of breath, leaning over you and looking down at you before devouring your lips. This time, he is consuming; he steals your lips, your breath, your very thoughts with the want and hunger in his kiss.

You gasp in surprise as your orgasm hits you, moaning into Eden’s mouth and clenching your legs around his waist. At this, he groans, barely pulling from your lips to stutter his hips once, twice, into your welcoming heat and cumming into your poor pussy.

You want to stay in that blissful moment. You grind against his spent cock, eager to chase the little after waves and hide from the upcoming moment. But Eden merely lets out a soft groan, pulling from you slowly and carefully, to your chagrin.

“Shh baby, there’ll be more to come.” He chuckles at your little whine. You come back to yourself, breathing heavy and looking up at him with big, wide eyes. You were covered in a cold sweat, could feel his cum in you and cooling on your inner thighs.

God, that really happened. He was still there, looking at you. You could feel the weight of the collar around your next, his eyes watching you. You were stuck here with Eden. You didn’t even have it in you to question him as he settles down into the bed next to you, happily pulling you into his arms. He seems to tire quick, sighing in content as he wraps his arms around your waist, and rests his chin in the gap between your head and shoulder.

“You’re gonna like it here, promise.” He seems to grow softer before rest. “Just have to get you use to life out here. It’ll be rough-- but we’ve got each other.” You close your eyes and try to ignore him. Rest would be your respite-- tomorrow, you could face this growing problem.

Tomorrow, you would face the trauma of being kidnapped. Tomorrow, you would deal with the consequences of losing your virginity. Tomorrow, you would see Eden’s face in the light of day and you wouldn’t even be able to hate him. Yes, tomorrow, it would be so much worse.

But tonight, you are tired. Tonight, you can pretend he’s someone you love. Tonight, it was all okay. Because you were good, you were sweet and cute and pathetic and everything he liked. And if you could continue to be just that, you would find a way out of this fine mess.

“Oh, and darling?” He hums the words in your ear, as close to a whisper as his gruff voice can make. “Don’t think I ever got your name…”

You pretend you’ve fallen asleep. Perhaps the only thing worse than his deep voice calling you those pet names, would be him calling your name as he looks at you with that lovesick gaze. No, you are already asleep; Eden sighs but doesn’t try to wake you. He readjusts against you once, and than mutters.

“Guess I’ll see in the morning…”

[ottosuricatoblog]

"Fucked."

Author: it's been a long while since I've written anything, but my latest obsession with Sandor turned out into this. I hope you enjoy it! If you do so, let me know, I might continue their story!

Part 2 to this here

Link my masterlist

Y/N Stark was not an ordinary girl. Well, at least she was not what people in Westeros considered a 'proper' girl. She didn't like sewing, prefering to be outside practicing sword fighting or archery. She didn't enjoy dances or wearing fancy dresses, finding herself much more comfortable in other (sometimes much bloodier) scenarios. Being the oldest Stark, she is aware she was supposed to be married by now. She had turned down about 5 proposals of marriage, much to her mother's disgrace. Y/N didn't want to marry some butterfingered knight with the only purpose of getting knocked up. She had yet to meet a man who made her feel hot and bothered in the right places. Until that day.

The first time Sandor saw her, he knew she was going to be trouble. It happened when he visited Winterfell along with the King and the rest of the fuckers. When he took off the helmet and looked up, meeting her eyes, he felt something he had never felt before. It couldn't be love. Sandor 'the Hound' Clegane only knew hate. He didn't believe in love, let alone love at fucking first sight. But, when she smiled at him, all he could think was "I'm fucked."

After looking for him for a while, he found Sandor by the stables, leaning on a wall with a drink in his hand. She felt the same butterflies in her stomach she had when she saw him for the first time that morning.

"Don't enjoy a party?" Y/N asked with a smirk.

He turned his head in her direction, hoping it was not who he thought it was. When he saw her, he had the same feeling as this morning, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Prefer to be alone." He grunted, looking away.

His hoarse voice made her feel things she shouldn't be feeling.

"I'm Y/N Stark." She said, bowing. "And I won't bother you, Ser. Drinking alone next to horse shite seems like a fantastic plan."

Sandor looked at her again, finding a smug smirk in her face. Gods, that smile. "I'm no Ser. And you shouldn't be outside this late."

He stood up straight, which made her able to realize his actual height. He was huge compared to her. Well, compared to pretty much everyone.

"Oh, don't worry about me." She said. "I can take care of myself."

"Can you, now?" He let a little smirk show. He shouldn't be talking to her, let alone fucking flirting. What's wrong with him?

"Perfectly, eh..." She made a pause, suggesting him to introduce himself. She had to know the name of the man who's making her feel this way.

"Sandor." He said. "Sandor Clegane."

"I'll leave you to it then, Sandor Clegane." She turned to leave, looking at his lips for a few seconds beforehand. "Good night."

Watching her leave, all he could think about was the sound of his name, his real name, on her lips, and he wanted to hear it over and over again.

"Good night, little wolf." He whispered.

He avoided her as much as he could the following days, thinking that if he didn't see her, the feeling would go away. Yet, all he could think about was the movement of her legs as she walked away from him that night, her gaze on his lips, her own lips... It was driving him mad.

Y/N knew he was not going to initiate anything, so she decided to take the matter into her own hands. If he didn't want her, he would have to tell her himself.

Sandor was on the way to his chambers when he felt a hand on his forearm, dragging him into a room nearby. He tightened, motioning for his sword, but soon relaxed as he realized who it was.

"The fuck you doing?" He grunted, scanning the room. It looked like a storehouse of some kind.

"Well, hello to you too." She said, sarcasm evident in her voice and a smirk on her face.

He stood there, taking a look at her. The light in the room was dim, but he could appreciate her figure. She wasn't scared of him or disgusted by his face. Instead, she was standing there, teasing him, with that fucking smile on her face.

"I've been meaning to talk to you." She started. "But it seems we don't seem to happen to meet."

"Here I am." He says, his voice low and husky. "Talk."

She feels her nipples become hard at his tone, and she bits her lip.

His gaze moves to her breasts, his cock becoming hard at the sight. She's standing there, biting her lip, and looking at him with a look that makes him weak in the knees.

"If you keep looking at me like that, dove..." He sighs, taking a step towards her. He shouldn't, and he knows.

She instinctively takes a step back, meeting a wall. Looking up at him, she finds the courage to talk. "What are you going to do, big boy?"

He places a hand above her head on the wall, leaning into her. "Tell me to stop, Y/N." He whispers, their mouths approaching. "Tell me to stop because if you don't, I don't think I'm..."

She interrupts him by pressing her lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groans, kissing her back.

She throws her arms around his neck and, in response, he picks her up, her legs around his waist. She feels his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for permission, which she gladly gives him.

"Sandor." She moans against his lips.

"Fuck." He grunts, pressing her harder against the wall and moving his lips to her neck.

They make out for a few minutes. He doubts he's ever been harder and judging the sounds Y/N is making, she's pretty affected as well. This makes it really hard for him to stop, but he has to.

"Little wolf, I really don't want to stop, but we need to." He says against her lips. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Sandor, I want you." She moans, kissing him again. "I don't care about my father, about my brothers or the fucking King."

This makes him laugh and he leans his head on her shoulder. "I'm not fucking you in a storehouse."

She groans desperately. "Why not?"

He laughs again, setting her on the ground. "Because I'm pretty sure you're a virgin." He starts, and she blushes. "Because you're Y/N Stark." He caresses her face. "And because I don't deserve you."

She frowns. "It's not for you to decide who I fuck, Sandor. I am a virgin, and I am Y/N Stark."

Sandor sighs.

She holds his face. "I hadn't felt this way about anybody in my life. I hadn't felt an urge to kiss someone, to be near someone."

He knows exactly what she's talking about, because he's feeling the exact same, so he leans in and kisses her. The kiss is different from the ones before, it's sweet.

"I'll come find you tonight." He whispers against her lips.

He turns, opening the door and holding it for her. She smiles at him, kissing him one more time before leaving. He stays in the room, smiling to himself. He is indeed fucked.

Part 2 here

[hms-no-fun]

Tell us about Dill and Alexander! I kinda picture them in my head as Kermit and that blue eagle Muppet but gay and gamer/greasy mechanic. Is that where you got the idea? Is sburb's frog fascination gonna play into the story of these boyos?

oh what's that? you want to be the captive audience for a lore dump about my very special guys? completely unprompted and with total investment in everything i might have to say? well well, don't mind if i do!

SO, Dill Croaker and Alexander Falcon are members of a now-defunct group called The Falconers. they are modeled after Star Fox (the team) from Star Fox (the video games). we haven't seen Alex on screen yet, but here's @girlpillz's rendering of Dill for B1 verse 1, where Lenore Lehart shows off her sick bouncy ball skills for Dana Straten to get the attention of Dill.

Alex being a blue falcon, i imagine he looks legally distinct from Falco Lombardi from Star Fox (the video games; the team) albeit less cocky and attitudinous.

there are technical reasons for The Falconers' existence. going into 3.2B, i knew i wanted a secondary supporting cast in the margins capable of handling dirtywork off-screen. for instance, they're decrypting and analyzing Lenore's stolen witch data so the main cast doesn't have to worry about it, leaving us more time to luxuriate in what we're actually here for: feelings.

Star Fox 64 is my favorite game, so when it came time to come up with that supporting cast, the possibilities of a knockoff Star Fox team immediately sold me on the idea (especially since this is the only story where i will ever reasonably be able to get away with such a blatant act of self-indulgence. you wouldn't believe it from looking, but i don't actually do a lot of indulging myself with Godfeels. i try very hard to never throw things in without serious calculation. The Falconers are pretty much the only thing i've introduced that came as an inorganic external mandate of my own selfish making, and even then i've worked very hard to integrate them naturally). as a broken up four-person crew, they mirror the Upsilons-- and so, them helping the Falconers reunite in order to find Alphi and Edie gives these guys some juice. their backstory is a shadow of the Upsilons', and a useful point of comparison as the narrative plugs along. i could've made a girl Star Fox team, but frankly Godfeels is just so women-centered, so female-focused, so tgirl-transfixed that i figured it was about time to throw the boylikers a bone.

The Falconers are balanced as a calculated twist on the Star Fox team. the most immediate difference is that here, Alexander Falcon fills the role of Fox McCloud. he's the charismatic team leader, a little surly (especially these days) but good at his job and deeply committed to the care of his team. Dill Croaker is, obviously, only about five runs through the dryer away from Slippy Toad, and fills the same role. my reason for this is that everyone is mean to Slippy and they're wrong. Slippy is a brilliant engineer and programmer, why do you expect him to be an ace fighter pilot too? that's YOUR job, hotshot! Nintendo themselves have been all over the map with Slippy in terms of characterization, pretty much never getting him quite as right as he felt in 64. so, yeah, Dill is my take on Slippy: a clueless gamer frog who plays with a lot of edgelords but is himself impervious to their venom. he never cusses because he's a good boy, and he respects women.

Dill and Alex have lived together on Crime Planet for a long time. are they fucking? no, i don't believe they are. Dill strikes me as something of an ace king, and anyway i don't think he's Alex's type. mostly they work together in the shop and hang out doing bro stuff. maybe Alex lifts weights while Dill plays shitty space MOBAs. but all this begs the question: who is Alex's type?

as of the B1 solo we've learned a little bit about the other two Falconers. first there is Erol [last name unknown], the oldest member of the crew who's likely analogous to Peppy Hare. which leaves us with Yolo Sionnach. a lot of information can be implied about him from this exchange:

yes, a lot of information indeed. but as much as i would love to enumerate the implications, i must hold my tongue. i mean, i would type it all out, but i can't, because i'm literally using my fingers to hold my tongue in place so that i can't say the spoilers out loud

anyway, i like the muppet comparison. that wasn't what i had in mind at all, but now i'm imagining the Falconers as the puppets Nintendo used to advertise Star Fox Zero and........ ohhhh scope creep you saucy temptress

the Slippy slander is rampant! and that's to say nothing of the ad where muppet versions of Satoru Iwata, Shigeru Miyamoto, and Reggie Fils-Aime slowly transform into Peppy, Fox, and Falco respectively.

i can't say that Sburb/the Universe Engine have much to do with The Falconers' story. they're not godtier, they don't know anything about the UE, they are literally just space mercenary furries. they come from the Lemurian Star System, trained at the Academy on Lemuria, and worked in the Lemurian Sky Corps until starting their own independent outfit as contractors (which i imagine is a fairly common career path in a region racked by interplanetary war and rampant espionage). age-wise, they're in their mid 30s.

thank you for this wonderful question. no one ever asks about the other guys, and i am always dying to talk about the other guys.

[vee-crytraps]

Kiss Me More | Ch 1 | {Groan}

SUMMARY: It’s been twelve long years since you were the sad little girl tugging on the tails of your adoptive father’s coat.

Your brothers take notice. AN: New to posting fics on Tumblr, feel free to read here or over on Ao3 under the username VenusCrytraps. Same bat time, same bat channel.

{Trigger warning/Themes Masterlist}

And yeah, i wanna spend the night with you Yeah, i wanna feel a beating, bleeding heart, don't you? Because i've never really known But i pinky promise you i'm grown And i wanna know what it feels like

You’re deep in your head as you lean forward in your vanity’s mirror, lightly dabbing away the smeared lipstick at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger. You don’t notice the creak of your door as it opens, and the protest of the frame as one of your many adopted siblings leans against it.

You don’t see the range of emotions he cycles through- some visible on his face, and others happening only in his head, behind those stormy green eyes.

“Yeah. I don’t think so.” Jason scoffs to himself after a minute, startling you. The tension drains from your shoulders as you turn around to see him standing there, all geared up in his Red Hood uniform sans the armor and that goofy fucking helmet of his. Your surprise has less to do with the atrophied instincts you’ve barely managed to keep from your two weeks as Robin back in the day, and more to do with the strangeness of Jason serving you his best impression of Dick’s Blue Steel, A.K.A, his ’Concerned Big Brother’ face. Something your oldest brother pulled so often, he could have it patented. It looks totally ridiculous on Jason, a dude you legitimately haven’t seen out of his uniform since he was welcomed back into the family. You think to yourself that he must be doing his rounds, doing his best to repair the dynamics that were lost when he died, and soured when the pit left him more than a little trigger happy.

Still, you remind yourself of Dick’s advice, to reward vulnerability and welcome these moments. Jason was supposedly quite fragile beyond his hulking form.

You sighed. “What can I do for you?”

There was some lingering awkwardness around the fact that he’d briefly dedicated his life to ending your dads, but if Bruce could trust him enough to welcome him anywhere near the Batcave, you supposed you could, too. He was trying his best, after all. You just wish he’d take it elsewhere, for once.

Still, you’ll play along.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dressed like that, was the implication that hung in the air. You’re smart enough to fill in the blank. He’s smart enough to let you.

“Out.” You turn around, unable to help but be a little bit guarded about this particular line of questioning.

God, on all the nights…

Turning your back to him, you casually resume your preening. He doesn’t at all remember you being this stubborn, but he’d died and come back to find you a whole lot older than he remembered.

“Out,” Jason repeated, exhaling heavily as he pushed off the doorframe. Jason was your age, once. He knew all about ‘out’. When he was in your shoes, going to Gotham Academy, making those fancy friends with more money than sense, ‘out’ meant joyriding around, bar hopping with fake ID’s and hooking up with fast, socialite girls wearing skirts not unlike the one you sported as you shifted in your plush vanity seat.

“What’s his name?”

“Are you still here?”

It slips out of you before you can remind yourself of Dick’s instruction to give Jason the room and encouragement he needed to be a part of your life again. As if he were a scared cat, and not a six-foot-something giant with the wrong kind of bodycount.

You try again, but it doesn’t come out any more cordial. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that. He also wasn’t expecting you to look so…grown up. His gaze flickered over you, over the short skirt and lace trimmed cardigan you were wearing. Over the way you applied that mascara and eyeliner with practiced skill and patience.

You were beautiful. God damn it, Bruce.

Catching his gaze in the mirror, you falter. His unreadable stare pulls the plug on your brat-ittude. A sigh escapes you.

“I’ll be careful, Jay. I promise.” You mumble, capping your eyeliner with finality as you give into this game of house he insisted on playing with you. When your eyes finally flicker up to meet his again, something in them seems…changed. The expression he wears is no longer unreadable. You recognize it, but can’t seem to place it. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you, but it’s been just as long since you were able to get a good look at him, too.

And then it’s there, again. The guilt and shame that coils within you as you notice the way his arms bulge under the brown leather of his jacket, the set of his strong jaw and the pout of his full bottom lip. You want to bash your head against your vanity. Tonight was supposed to be your night to get away from this feeling. To distract yourself with normal boys that weren't off limits. To cure yourself of the way you instantly became distracted whenever your brothers were near.

Adoptive brothers, you remind yourself inwardly. But you know that fact doesn’t make you feel any less fucking gross.

For as much as you appreciated some of the upsides of puberty hitting you like a train, there were some notable downsides, too. Inappropriate attraction to the other gorgeous men that live in this house aside, you’d found yourself concerned with things you had always prided yourself on being above. The way you gravitated towards more flattering clothes and cuter underwear, your proclivity for flavored lipgloss and this…overwhelming desire to feel attractive had you feeling so unlike yourself that it was hard to embrace the change, let alone enjoy it. Sometimes, the process of becoming a woman often felt like you were being beat with a pretty pink nightstick.

It takes you a moment to realize you’ve been quiet for a strange amount of time. And the knowledge that he has too makes you tense in places you didn’t know you could.

“Besides,” You continue, though too much time has passed to really consider it a continuation of your promise. “I’ve got backup.”

Swiveling around in your vanity’s chair, you don a self satisfied smirk as you slip the hem of your skirt up your thigh just a smidge, exposing the knife holstered to your thigh.

Jason’s eyebrows almost hit the ceiling. He wasn’t expecting that of all things. Not the sight of you, gorgeous and young and supposedly retired from this whole vigilante thing having a butterfly knife strapped to your leg. He wasn’t expecting the thrill he was getting just by looking at it, and how much he wanted to see it in use.

What is wrong with me?

He clears his throat to regain his composure.

“Where the hell did you get that?” He asks, his voice rougher than before.

“Where do you think?” You can’t help but laugh, tugging the hem of your skirt back down. Your sharp tongue gets him hot under his collar in a way he is beyond not proud of.

Still, he joins you, letting out a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and a snort. The moment brings about a sense of familiarity, the conversation finding a groove it hasn’t been able to since before he had died.

Clearing his throat again, he has to fight against the heat threatening to rise in his face- unable to do much about the blood rushing south. “Look. I know it’s not my place, just…I’m concerned. About you going outside wearing…” The way he vaguely gestures to your outfit with his hands makes you forget he’s supposed to be some kind of sharpshooter.

“I’m…going on a date.” You finally answer, offering an olive branch. Maybe the truth really will set you free. From this cage of Wayne Manor, from the clear gloss, sensible shoes and frumpy skirts that were good for your optics, whatever the fuck that meant. Jason was in your shoes, once. Under the microscope of society, young and repping the name of an entire family on your back. You hope he can relate, and give you some grace. So you lay it on. Thick.

“Do you like it? It’s pretty much brand new. I never get to wear it, because there is no way dad would ever let me out dressed like this.”

Jason nods slowly.

He likes more than your outfit.

“You’re going on a date.” He turns it over in his mind. It seems his suspicions were correct. “And…Bruce doesn’t even know?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that. As if you told him where you were sneaking off to when you were my age. And don’t you dare say it was different or whatever bullshit you’re about to-“

Jason crosses the room to your still seated form before you can finish, stepping into your personal space and placing a hand under your chin. He lifts it gently, and tries not to absolutely lose it at the way you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“Where is he taking you?” Jason asks, his voice low and rough.

You do your best to beat back that feeling again. The warmth in your core is persistent, but you’ve had a few years of practice surpassing it. Digging your nails into your palm, you try not to observe how handsome he looks, even now, with that spark of disapproval in his gaze. Focusing hard, you manage not to bite your lip at his tone.

“Drive-in.” The truth slips from you quickly, and quieter than it would have several minutes ago, when you couldn’t smell his cologne. You lean into his touch imperceptibly. “And then there’s a party we might stop by.”

“Drive-in?” Jason repeats, his eyebrows arching. “Like, a literal movie drive-in? Do those places still actually exist?” His fingers tighten, his thumb rubbing against your chin- dangerously close to the fullness of your bottom lip. There’s no way you could miss the way his eyes devour your face. And drop to your lips.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm, dropping your chin ever so little, kissing his thumb. “They’re popular spots. Sitting in your car with your date. Alone, in the dark.”

“God, you’re killing me right now.” His heart pounds as your lips touch his thumb, but makes no move to pull it away. His fingers grip your chin a little tighter. His other hand comes to your neck, the pads of his fingers brushing over it gently. “You’re just begging to be kissed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” the word escapes you breathlessly. It’s so fucking embarrassing. You can’t help it. That you care so much about your hair, that your showers are extra long and that you’re so horny all the fucking time now because living in his house is like being in the Olympic village- constantly surrounded by beautifully sculpted people. It was beyond difficult, even if you were now counted among them.

Jason doesn’t care that your door is cracked open or if anyone could walk in and see you. He drops one hand off of your chin, and the one tracing your pulse trails back and up into your hair, forgetting himself as he fists the strands and tugs it back.

“God, look at you.”

It’s all he can manage before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours. The discovery of your flavored lipgloss sets off a wave of possessiveness in him when he thinks that some other punk was planning to savor the taste. He wants it to be just for him.

You kiss him back before you can think about it. You’re touch starved and aching, barely thinking straight as he lifts you into his arms with his impossible strength and picks you up as if you weigh less than nothing. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist. Breaking the kiss, your hands find his face, thumbs brushing over the scars on his cheek. “Forgot how strong you are, Jay.”

He lays you across the bed with one swift motion and kneels between your legs as his large hands roam your thighs. You know for a fact that your skin is soft and smooth. Your Everything Shower routine was of the gods.

“You’ve grown up, baby bat.”

His dark eyes bore into you, the old nickname rolling off of his tongue with ease. It no longer brings an irritated flush to your face the way it did when you were still playing with dolls. For a moment, he’s reminded of the fact that he was here to try and step into that role again. To be the brother that keeps you from making the sort of dumb mistakes he had been known for at your age, and not to touch you- but you’re so soft and so sweet. There’s no pity in your eyes, or fear of the monster he used to be. He can't decide if he wants to cherish you or ruin you, but he's greedy enough to try and get away with both.

Manicured fingers twitch to the front tie of your lace cardigan. The edge of the ribbon rests between your forefinger and thumb before you slowly pull, releasing the bow. You reveal your bare, ample chest to him as you agree breathlessly. “Yeah,”

Jason bites his lip at the sight of your chest. A deep sense of satisfaction fills him as you reveal yourself to him, and the hand on your thigh rises slowly, stopping at your hip. He lets out a soft groan as he promptly resumes to think with the wrong head.

Catching his gaze, you drag your nails down his chest, fingers stopping at his belt. Tilting your head, you don’t bother to look as you work on undoing the buckle and pull it free from the loops of his pants. “Jay,” You whisper.

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is low, his gaze still boring into yours. “It makes me…feel a certain type of way.” Tilting his head back a little, he lets out another soft grunt when he feels you working open the front of his pants. His eyes fall shut. He seems to be on the verge of something, no doubt attempting to convince himself to stop before the two of you do something you can’t take back.

“What if I want you to feel that way?” You ask, dipping your hand beneath the open waistband of his pants, your soft fingers brushing against his swelling cock.

“Jesus Christ.” Releasing a deep breath, he looks down at you. His hand travels up to your throat, fingers digging into your skin.

“Please.” You finally just beg him, your bare chest heaving as you attempt not to squirm with the anticipation. “Please, Jay. Please.” How long has it been, since you were touched? Yeah, you were gorgeous, and fairly popular at school, but being involved with the precious daughter of the ‘prince of Gotham’ was often too risky for a lot of the guys at school. With you, they couldn't get away with half of the things they could with some of the other girls you know. And then there’s Jason. Someone she’s known for a good chunk of her life. Someone she trusts, someone she’s mourned, and most importantly- someone who is not afraid of Bruce Wayne.

The dying embers of his resolve are snuffed out the minute you shift your hips, that too short skirt riding up and revealing your absolutely soaked panties. And fuck, has he even touched you yet?

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, sweetheart. I got you.” Jason leans over you, one hand supporting himself by your head as the other drags your underwear to the side. Two of his calloused fingers stroke your slippery folds, covering his hand in your warm slick before he fists his thick cock.

He brings the blunt head of him close to you, stroking your clit before it brushes against your core. “Relax for me, sweetheart. You gotta let me in.” He murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Hold onto me.”

You do. Your fingers dig into his strong shoulders as he finally manages to push into you with a long suffering groan. You’re no virgin, but you’re half his size, and so, he bets, was every other chump you had before him. And from the way your walls quiver and stretch around him? He also bets that list is pretty short.

“ ’S okay, princess,” He breathes, his pupils blown wide. It takes everything in him not to pin you down and absolutely destroy you, but he reminds himself that your desperation does’t equal experience. You can act as fast as you want, you still need time to adjust to him.

“Oooh, fuck.” Jason hisses, his nails digging into the sheets beside you as he somehow manages to bottom out. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You can feel his shoulders tense under your palms, and your soft hands slip down his biceps until you’re holding his forearms. You’re so tight it’s criminal, and he can’t even focus as he begins to thrust into you.

His name sounds magical coming from your lips, and you look so gorgeous beneath him, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he fucks you hard and deep and bare. Your cunt is noisy and desperate, sucking him deep into your impossible warmth, covering every inch of him in your slick. His hand finds your throat again, and he can feel the way you squeeze around him in response. He groans complete delight. “You like that? Huh?”

Something akin to a yes escapes you as he begins to fuck you harder, the wood of the antique bed frame creaking in protest as your distant sort-of-stepbrother practically folds you in half, seemingly unable to get deep enough inside of you. Jason is a complete mess above you as you all but melt into your sheets, fingers tangled in the linens as each deep thrust forces a desperate whine from your parted lips.

“Such a perfect little cunt. So warm and fuckin’ wet-“ His free hand greedily palms at your tits as a string of other obscenities that make your clit throb begin to fall from his lips. He finds a spot deep within you that makes your toes curl and your walls tighten, and he grips your hips for leverage as he abuses it relentlessly. The difference between you is such that he barely has to shift his hand from your thigh to have his thumb roll over your clit shortly after you feel him spit on it, the oddity and the sudden stimulation forcing your back to arch.

There’s a part of him that hasn’t yet forgiven Bruce for leaving him to die, and that part greedily soaks up the sight of you coming undone beneath him, your tits bouncing as your back arches off of your bed. You may be barely an adult, but you’re still Bruce Wayne’s little girl, too precious for combat, but not too precious for Jason to spread you open on your pastel linens, under your daddy’s roof. You cream around his cock as your greedy walls threaten to milk him but he refuses to let up, determined to bully another orgasm out of you before he’s through.

“Tell me you want it,” Of course he knows you do. You’re the one who practically scrambled for his belt the minute he got you onto the bed, but it’s not enough to see it. He wants to hear you say it. To beg for him His voice is hoarse. Desperate. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” You manage, barely able to get the words out. “Want you, I want you-“ His nails bite into your thigh and you can hear the blood rushing to your ears.

“Jason,” You look up at him through your lashes, tears of pleasure collecting in the corners of your pretty eyes. He mumbles your name in return, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

“Get off in me.”

“Fuck!” His orgasm hits him like a train almost instantly, and he grinds into you needily with a disbelieving groan, filling you up. Your eyes nearly roll back as you come undone around him, and you’re not even though your orgasm before he lets out a barely coherent whine that sounds like it could be ‘good girl’ or ‘dirty fucking tease’. Your mind is spinning too much to make sense of anything and you decide take your pick, leaning back into your nest of plush blankets and pillows.

“Shit,” You breathe, exhausted.

“Yeah.” He agrees.

Jason allows himself to roll off of you, the bed creaking with impact as he collapses beside you with an uneven exhale. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath, hearing the shifting of his tactical pants beside you as he tucks his cock away. He casts a sidelong glance at you, swallowing before he can think of something to say. “That…you were okay with that, right?”

It takes a good moment to register the words, and you blink your eyes open. Turning to your side, you meet his gaze. You’re both sweating, and you feel decidedly un-sexy with his cooling cum leaking out of you. “What…what are you asking me?” You frown.

Jason tilts his head towards you. “It’s just…you know. What I was like before you uh…grew up.” His thoughts trail off, and his face creases with a frown as he tries to get through the next few words. “I just. I want to make sure…” A deep breath. Another heartbeat. “I can be rough, is all.” His expression softens, and guilt begins to seep in. You may live under this roof, but you aren’t like him. Not really. You were the soft one. The normal one. And that makes him feel equal amounts of pride and shame when he thinks about what you two have just done.

“Hey,” You recognize that shame, and you decide to put a stop to it before he overflows with it. “I may not spend my nights being tossed around by thugs anymore, but Gotham is rough. Our life is rough.”

Reaching out, you rest a hand over his heart, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “But…being here…like this- with you? Being roughed up doesn’t have to suck.” Sitting up, you offer him a smile. “In fact, it felt so good I came twice. So. You know.”

Your answer is honest, and he can’t help but chuckle as he moves to sit up with you. His hand moves to caress the side of your face. You lean into his hand, and his gaze softens.

“You’re so different than you used to be.” His words come out in a whisper, and his thumb traces your jawline. “I want to keep you safe from this. But…I like this side of you. I like what I can bring out of you.”

“It’s been a long time, Jay.” You mumbled, closing your eyes. "A really long time."

You open them when you feel the way his lips brush against your forehead. They linger there for a heartbeat.

The moment is cut shot when you can hear the pneumatic hiss of the downstairs grandfather clock as it swings open, no doubt your adoptive dad home from patrol. “Shit. Dad’s home,” You whisper, and Jason grumbles as he leans against the headboard to catch his breath, watching you sit up. “You sure know how to kill the mood.”

“Dude, I just let you unload in me. I am the mood. So like, zip it.” You huff, fixing your underwear. Jason, despite his casually annoyed exterior, is lighter on his feet than you’ve ever seen him as he moves to get off of your bed. He’s sneaking out of here like his life depends on it, but he has the feeling it actually might.

“See you at breakfast, Jay!” You call a little too loudly, snickering at the way he tenses up in fear. He makes sure to flip you off right before he disappears past the doorframe, and you walk over and shut it.

Looking over to your desk, you see the screen of your phone is lit up, flooded with half an hours worth of texts and missed calls.

Guess you missed your date.

I ain't scared of boys, but boy, you're a man And if anybody could, I'm sure you can For a girl this young, naive, and miserable

[noneorother]

What do Shax and a 30-year-old Sandman comic have in common? Puns. The answer is always puns.

While I've recently revealed Shax does actually know how to spell, (she's just really old), the "angle" message Shax throws through the window to demand the "angel" one was a little trickier, because it's not Middle English, or even Old French, it's probably the oldest pun in Good Omens... it's latin.

Good Omens Season 2, Episode 5, 2023

Fortunately, a time travelling Neil Gaiman left answers for us in his 1995 Sandman special "Sandman midnight theatre." See for yourself.

Sandman Midnight Theatre, Neil Gaiman, Matt Wagner, Teddy Kristiansen, 1995

"Still, they have some illuminated manuscripts in their library which throw fascinating light on early church history. "Not angels, but angles" eh? I've been angling for permission to browse through their manuscript collection for yonks."

Appropriate for an English reverend to be curious about "Angels and not Angles". It's THE earliest christian pun, attributed to Pope Gregory the Great in the 6th century CE.

Oxford reference essential quotations

It comes from a historical account of the pope walking through a market in Rome, and seeing some exotic slave children (i.e. fair hair and blue eyes, and light skin) from what is now the England, and asking where they were from. The master replied that they were "Angles" (Angli in latin) and the pope declared them to be "Angels" (Angeli) instead, which, in latin at that time would have been a pun. This history from Bede actually influenced a lot of the christian world, so we could conceivably make the point that fair blonde and blue eyed angels comes from the idea that they looked liked the English (who were not christian, but pagan at the time of being newly conquered). Aziraphale's looks in the originsl Good Omens are probably a direct result of the lineage in art of this 1,500 year old pun.

Depictions of angels, 1100 years apart Which raises the question: if Shax is asking for the Angel Gabriel with her note, the pun doesn't make any fucking sense.

Jon Hamm plays Gabriel as an "American", specifically not English like the rest of the cast. He does have blue eyes, but as far as Shax is concerned, Gabriel's eyes are violet, not really a human colour. Shax could just actually be stupid (I guess?) and not realize that in modern English that constitutes a mistake (boring), or that Americans succeeded in 1776 (hilarious). But here's a quirkier theory: Shax knows what she's talking about, and she's gunning for Maggie. If you look really closely, demons show up and start hanging around the street earlier in the ball than you would guess. Once a fair number have amassed, they stay waiting for Shax to lead them. However, even though she hasn't shown up yet, they eagerly chase Maggie down the street from her shop. They're only stopped by Crowley, and Maggie gets safely into the ball.

Once inside, she has quite a stunning change of costume, highlighting her blonde hair and blue eyes:

There's so much more evidence to suggest that Maggie isn't really a normal human, but this post is long enough. What I will say is that it's subtle, but once the demon attack really gets going (no thanks to Maggie), Shax and the other demons never look for Jim once, even when he leaves the mezzanine. They concentrate all their efforts on Aziraphale, Maggie and Nina, and never mention Gabriel again.

While Maggie is a Scottish name, and she clearly has some links to Scotland if a random pub in Edinburgh is buying records from her in Soho, she does have a distinctly English accent, and lest we forget...

———————————————

thanks as always to @embracing-the-ineffable and @thebluestgreen for the tasty links and sounding board.

[proxylynn]

My theory of Hazbin Hotel's main plot.

[This may just be a hot take or me whimsically spitballing headcanon, but I have thought about this and, while I don't have all the puzzle's pieces, I think I have enough to make out a decent picture. So bear with me as I unload the insanity that has been in my head since entering the Hellaverse.]

Starting things off, I think the main villain/antagonist of HH's plot is the obvious elephant in the room...Roo aka The Root of ALL Evil.

According to Vivziepop, Roo is a "looming threat in the distance", possibly hinting toward her being a future antagonist and she mentioned that there is no character that she is more excited to get into than Roo, but, she also mentioned that it's "gonna be a long time". So likely we won't see her properly till season three but get hints throughout season two and teased at the end. I will make no claim that "defeating" Roo solves everything in the universe because that's nonsense. There is no good without evil. So you can't just off Roo who's been there since the beginning. And I mean THE beginning. I'm talking the creation of EVERYTHING.

"Angels that worshiped good and shielded all from evil."

Evil exists at the start before Lucifer does anything, this is a fact. So where am I going with this? Let's continue down the line. To the one driving my train of thought...Lilith.

For someone who didn't eat the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, Lilith was very aware of certain things and had independent free will. But humanity didn't get this autonomy till after the fruit fiasco, so what happened? Why did Lilith have magic main character self-awareness? Well, let's think about this...Why was there such a tree in Eden in the first place? The Angels are making this a paradise and keeping evil out of Earth. So why place a tree in there that would fuck it all up? This was why they didn't want Lucifer making shit because they were worried his ideas would be too risky and bad could happen. So again, why was this tree here? What if...The Angels didn't make it.

I propose, as her name so implies, that Roo sprouted the tree up without the Angels knowing in the hopes the fruit would be eaten and allow evil to taint the world. Lilith might have gotten a hint of what the tree granted and what simple veil that clouded her eyes was lifted enough to make her reject Adam and flee the garden. It's even said that "together" she and Lucifer share the gift of free will with Eve, but Lilith seems to take this stand back and watch approach when Lucifer gives her the fruit, almost like she's uncertain what eating it will do so she keeps her distance. This again, also hints that Lilith has had free will from the start and didn't eat the fruit because it was only when Eve ate the fruit did evil finally break the seal to enter Earth.

"As punishment for their reckless act, Heaven cast Lucifer and his love into the dark pit he had created."

Now here's where it gets a bit more headcanony because this line could mean nothing or everything. Lucifer and Lilith are banished to the newly made Hell. I repeat...Heaven cast Lucifer and Lilith into Hell. Nowhere does it say she died. So...We have the first human woman who didn't eat the fruit and never died. By technically, Lilith still has her immortality. She's the oldest human alive. It's also stated Lucifer shares his power with her (and Charlie), which makes sense if she's just some dull human. So, now imbued with this mix of angel/demon rizz, Lilith becomes even more OP and Hell's mary sue Queen that dominates like the bad boss bitch she is.

"Lilith thrived, empowering demonkind with her voice and her songs. And as the numbers of Hell grew, so did its power."

Lilith as a character has a surprisingly decent amount of info to work with considering we only saw her for the smallest moment. So here's some goodies I've collected from the wiki that are of note.

{According to Vivziepop, Lilith is the "big, slowburn mystery" of the show, adding that we are going to slowly start getting answers over the course of the "next couple seasons", and that season two gives some more pieces to it.}

{When asked about what Lilith was like, Faustisse described Lilith as graceful, regal, and politically charged. Lilith is someone who is exceptionally equanimous. This was implied in "Overture" as in the "Story of Hell" book she is depicted helping Hell thrive over the years using her voice and her songs.}

{When asked about Lilith and Lucifer's dynamic, Faustisse believed their relationship could be summed up with the phrase, "Behind every man is a greater woman", and that they love each other very much. They describe Lilith and Lucifer as "passionate, cheesy lovers". They are of the opinion that Lilith "wears the pants" in her family, but they think both Lilith and Lucifer are switches within their intimate life.}

{When asked about Lilith's powers, Faustisse declined to answer, citing possible spoilers for the main series. They did, however, state that they did not think Lilith had wings like Charlie and Lucifer, although saw no reason why she wouldn't be able to manifest them if she wished. According to Faustisse, Lilith can change the shape of her horns, but it's unlikely this will be shown in practice in the series as it would apparently be difficult to show that kind of constant change over consecutive scenes.}

{When asked if the Eden family have some connection to the royal family as well, Vivziepop declined to answer one way or the other.}

{Due to her origins as a former human, it is likewise unclear if Lilith is connected to the Sinners, who are deceased humans and became demons after death; as Lilith was alive when she was banished to Hell, her transition between human and demon is ambiguous.}

{Faustisse has suggested that she is somewhat good with children}

{Lilith disappeared seven years prior to the series for reasons unknown, never responding to any of her daughter's attempts to call her. Curiously, she was missing the same amount of years as Alastor. Lilith was later revealed to be in Heaven in "The Show Must Go On". Although the exact reasons remain unknown, it was heavily alluded to that she had made a deal with Adam at some point.}

You might look at all this and be like "Lynn, you dummy, we know all this. This is just random stuff". Oh, I think not. Because in just these bits we get so much. Let's begin with the character setup for diving into my main theory.

I think Lilith does love her family. She has a loving and amazing husband in Lucifer and in Charlotte (aka Charlie) the most adorable and kindhearted daughter any mother could ask for. As Queen, she took charge and made Hell less of a pit to wallow and suffer in, and more like a new home to begin anew. So then...What happened? Why would she suddenly leave and cut all communications? Here is where we dig into the meat of it all. My theory of why Lilith left.

Remember how I said Lilith didn't eat the fruit and still had free will then pounded that over and over into you? Well, going on what I said about her getting "a hint of what the tree granted", Roo could've infected Lilith and gifted her awareness while in Eden. Now in Hell where Roo is arguably stronger due to all the sin and sickness that permeates the realm, her influence on Lilith would increase. Lilith, being the big brain that she is, probably felt something was amiss when she got pregnant. Nine months is a long time to plan things out, and maybe doing a few concerts to warn others of impending danger subtlety might've worked...but only for so long. She needed something. A safety. And that safety was her family. Lucifer likely could've been useful but his depression was beginning to take hold with each failure and the worsening sinners as years passed. So...plan B...Charlie. She would instill in her daughter everything she knew and give her a "destiny".

"But Lilith's hope remained. And her dream passed down to their precious daughter, the Princess of Hell."

With Charlie, Lilith instilled that the people were important. But never explained in what way. As she continued to prepare her daughter, Lilith would come to understand this reason. Power. Roo thrives on the tainted evil that seeps from the sinners. So just as she finishes schooling Charlie, she sets up another backup plan to still Roo's intake long enough for her daughter to figure out a way of her own...And this is where Adam comes in.

"Adam is dead. Your deal is done and I'm in charge now. Your brat is threatening the very foundation of Heaven. And if you want to stay here, you're going down there, and stopping that bitch. You understand me…Lilith?"

Feeling Roo's corruptive influence getting worse because sinners just keep coming, Lilith contacts Adam. Now Adam is still salty but hears his first wife out as she caters to his ego. But Adam is wiser after millennia and knows she's not being innocent here. He bluntly gets her to just spill the beans to which she does, she needs out of Hell. Adam grabs this opportunity and says he can sneak her into Heaven but it'll cost her. He knows how much her precious people mean to her so, vindictively, he says he'll take her in if he can go into Hell and kill demons. Little does he know he's playing into her trap. She "reluctantly" agrees so long as no Hellborn are harmed, only sinners. Adam is all for it, even makes a cover story to tell Sera later how killing sinners in Hell will keep Heaven safe, and Lilith then goes about doing the hardest thing she's ever done. She tells Lucifer of some details of this new Heavenly Extermination thing and that she'll have to go away for a long time, promising to return but unsure when. Heartbroken, Lucifer watches as his love leaves him, their daughter, and their kingdom.

"Hey, mom. I know I keep calling and you must be busy... Really busy... But, um, the interview didn't go well, and... I don't know if I'm ever going to make a difference. I don't know what I'm doing. I could really use some advice, mom. I... I think dad was right about me... Ahah, oof. Eh, anyway... I'll stop talking before this gets long. Love you, bye..."

"Don't worry, Mom. I'll make you proud."

Vaggie: Did you hear from your mom?

*Charlie shakes her head in dismay.*

Vaggie: Oof… how long has it been now?

Charlie: Not that long, only…seven….years, off doing something important, I'm sure! But, this kingdom was something she really cared about. Something I care about.

This is what I think it's all been leading to. Lilith having made Charlie into someone for the people and wanting to save souls in a, as funny as it is, maintaining the very balance that got fucked up way back in the garden sort of redeeming way. Restoring order by allowing the good to go where it should've gone in the first place and keeping Roo weak. Maybe Lilith can even get her own redemption, being partially responsible for allowing Roo into our world in the first place. The only added weight I have left to give to my silly little "infected Lilith" idea is how she looks at season one's ending.

She looks pissed and upset, which we can say for a few reasons like how Lute just straight-up calls Charlie a bitch to her face. Like, dude, dick move. But, with Adam dead and seemingly no progress from Charlie (that she knows of), Lute is forcing her to go back to Hell where Roo's influence can grip her once more. I'm not entirely sure just what that could mean but for the sake of the Alastor/Lilith theory fans, let's say when Roo is strong she can puppet Lilith into infecting others via demonic deals. She might have done this countless times with mixed results, only to have full success in Alastor. But Mr deer is a bit too successful a test subject and thus gets his powers leashed. Now we have Alastor trying to force his way out of this mixed-up double-power deal by roping in Charlie, the one kink in this chain that could cause everything to break if forced too much.

It would explain his latching onto Charlie and seeking a deal since the very first time they met. She's a means to an end. The key to unlocking his proverbial collar. It even explains his out-of-nowhere instant disdain for Lucifer. Of course he'd be hostel to the husband of the bitch that metaphorically screwed him and poses a threat to his current plan of using his daughter for his own means.

Well, this was a long as fuck rambling. I hope even a shred of this made sense. Now to sit back and wait for season two to come along and either be like "I got something right" or "Wow I was dead wrong on so many levels". I wonder how long that will take?

"In an interview posted on February 2, 2024, Vivziepop thought that the production of season two might take about one-and-a-half to two years, roughly the same production time season one had."

Oh...um...Looks like we have some time. So, we can expect the new episodes to land in late 2025 at the earliest. *sets up chair* I can wait.

[angelpuns]

I said I'd ramble about the TMNT:HME sibling dynamics so here it is:

CW for favoritism

Some of this stuff I've already touched on before, but I'll try and go into a bit more detail on the specific relationships

Leo is the oldest, but all the brothers know he's not the favorite. If anything he's the least favorite ( Not the problem child, though, we'll get to that ) - though Splinter swears he doesn't pick favorites.

As far as all the brothers' views on him as a whole it's something like ' he's the oldest but sometimes he acts way too much like Splinter' and they've said this to him occasionally. And every single time it hits like a fucking brick.

Leo wonders if Mikey thinks he is cool or not - he doubts it. They're sort of in a ' in this together' mentality when it comes to Donnie and Splinter. Leo tries very hard to teach Mikey all about gender/sexuality without Splinter's knowledge. He wants Mikey to know that there is a safe almost-adult for him to come to about that stuff. Mikey doesn't really get it, though. Leo is a bit sad that they don't have a more healthy sibling dynamic - he could never, ever discuss big feelings with Mikey or talk about Splinter. It kinda sucks, but he knows they don't have to talk about big feelings. They just have to have fun.

Leo, for a long time, had a special sort of animosity towards Donnie because of him being the favorite. When they were much smaller, Leo actually hated him for it for a while. But as he got older and they drifted apart, he realized that it's not him vs Donnie, its all of them vs Splinter. He still thinks Donnie is a kiss-up, though, and he constantly tries to help him grow out of that.

Leo and Raph were a lot closer when they were kids, but the shift to disliking Donnie due to favoritism also kinda roped Raph into it, since Raph and Donnie are a lot closer than any of the other brothers. Nowadays, Leo is mostly just....sad about his and Raph's dynamic. He feels guilty for a lot of the way Raph grew up, he knows a lot of it is his own fault ( and some specific things that are his fault 100% that there will be a comic about later ). Overall their relationship is tainted by guilt - Leo will never forgive himself for treating Raph the way he did when they were younger.

Donnie is the favorite, as all the brothers will agree ( Raph still isn't sure that's true ) and Donnie won't deny it. He's proud of it, actually. He knows he's the favorite because he's the most well-behaved. He does his chores, he shows interest in Splinter's hobbies or what he's saying. Overall, he cares a lot about Splinter's opinion - definitely more so than his brothers.

Donnie has noted that Leo acts like Splinter, but he frames it as somewhat of a good thing. He's very.... calculated with his and Leo's relationship dynamic. He tends to keep his distance emotionally, and will call out when Leo is being an asshole. He has also been the most troublesome when it comes to Leo telling him to do chores. He is Team Splinter all the way.

Raph, as his twin, is his favorite brother hands down. Donnie does play favorites and Raph is his favorite brother. They spend the most time together, Donnie prefers hanging out with Raph than hanging out with the rest of his brothers, but they still have fights sometimes. Mostly over room stuff or Raph being too loud. No fight has ever lasted more than a day, though.

Mikey and Donnie have a weird, standoffish sort of relationship. They don't have a ton in common, but still like to play video games together! Mostly mine craft. Donnie just doesn't feel like hanging out with him too often is all :/

Raphie!

Raph has a complicated relationship with Leo- on one hand, Leo can be really cool and fun!! On the other, he can be as annoying as Splinter. And Raph easily gets mad when Leo makes fun of him, sometimes blowing up at him or his brothers for it. He's very easy to anger and sometimes Leo pushes his buttons on purpose. But to be fair, Raph pushes Leo's buttons back just as often.

Raph and Donnie are closest, but Raph sometimes wishes he was the older twin so maybe he could be the favorite. However, Raph usually reaps the rewards as well, since Splinter doesn't even really know he exists most of the time. If Donnie gets a treat he will find a way to get Raph one as well.

Raph and Mikey have an unspoken rivalry - Raph and Mikey have a lot in common, but Raph hates that Mikey is 'better' at so many things than him. He has his own hobbies, but Mikey always does them better. And he's afraid of his little brother surpassing him.

Mikey looks up to Leo as his ' cool but sometimes lame older brother' - most of the time he thinks Leo is cool but sometimes Leo will say/do something so lame that Mikey has to literally walk away. Mikey has also told Leo that he's acting like Splinter the most.

Mikey sort of looks up to Donnie, but it's mostly for his smarts. Other than that, he also resents Donnie a bit for being the favorite :/ Thinks he cares way too much about Splinter's opinion

Mikey doesn't know how Raph feels about his talents. They're close the way youngest siblings are close - they used to roughhouse a lot as kids and nowadays they compete in stupid competitions around the lair :)

So that's how the boys' see each other! I talked about this a bit before, but this is a bit more in detail since someone suggested it the other day <33

TMNT:HME Master post