#or a very very large rabbit in this case

[sirfrogsworth]

The short answer is... a tilt-shift lens.

The slightly more complicated answer is... Mister Rogers.

Depth of field is the area in front and behind your chosen focus point that remains in focus and then slowly gets blurry as you get farther away.

Shallow depth of field only has a narrow slice of the image in focus and gets blurry super quick. This is caused by a large lens aperture and being close to the subject.

Deep depth of field can extend through the entire picture if your aperture is small and you are super far away.

Usually the depth of field lines up with the image sensor of your camera. So if it is tilted forward, the plane of focus matches.

The stuff outside the green area would be blurry. The edges of the green would be slightly blurry. And the dashed green line would be the sharpest area of the photo.

But the tilt-shift lens allows you to create chaos with your plane of focus. In most cases, you would use this to flatten the depth of field so you can get a 2D plane entirely in focus.

If you were to use a normal lens, the bottom left and top right would be blurry.

But with a tilt-shift lens you can do this.

The green area is taking a little nap on the floor.

However, there is an unintended side effect created by this lens. (The "Scheimpflug intersection" if you want to go down the rabbit hole.) You can choose absolutely wacky planes of focus that create a very narrow depth of field over a geographically large area.

Believe it or not, this is when psychology comes into play.

And possibly Mister Rogers.

Our only reference for such a large area having a shallow depth of field is our memories of miniatures on TV. So Mister Rogers and Thomas the Tank Engine trained our brains to see this effect as... small.

Depth of field shrinks the closer you are to something. And when filming miniatures, you are placing the lens close to the scene. But the scene represents something big in our minds. We buy the effect, but not 100%. That blurriness wouldn't be there at a regular scale. So our subconscious remembers we are watching small things pretending to be big. It just files that away in the back of our mind.

And then when we see something like this...

Our brain is all, "Look at all that tiny shit!"

Without Mister Rogers, our brains may have never made these connections and tilt-shift photography may just make us wonder why everything is all blurry. That connection to past experience is vital for this effect to be convincing.

Brains are neat.

[be-xkyy]

Is it bad that I wanna have the yandere men’s babies? 🫣 Cowboys, Sugar Daddy, etc. I’m curious though how some of them would react if reader was enthused to settle down with them and start a family? 🥰

Please don’t stop the breeding/pregnancy kinks

Hi! that's a good question anon and I'll answer it right now.

Yandere reactions to a reader willing and happy to be with them and have their babies.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

Masterlist

Yandere Farmer link

This grumpy man doesn't jump for joy or anything, in his mind he doesn't understand why he would be elated by the simple fact that you know your place and where you belong? You belong beneath him receiving his fat cock in your greedy pussy. End of story.

He already thinks he's old (maybe just a little...) and that he's running out of time to have a family and you accepting your place without making a fuss takes a huge weight off his shoulders, he takes you to live with him that very day and oh... you'll realize that this man has the stamina of a bull and the same softness.

As soon as you arrive he already has you bent over the kitchen table with your cheek pressed against the oak wood while his fat cock abuses your pussy, his fat balls slapping your plush ass with a dirty sound while a large hand holds you tightly by the back of the neck squeezing the little hairs deliciously.

From that day on you will have your poor pussy sore and overstimulated because he will fuck you all the time and at all hours.

He fucks you in the morning when the rooster wakes up and doesn't even crow yet but he's already buried deep in your pussy, he fucks you in the barn on a pile of hay when you go to feed the horses, he fucks you in the afternoon when he takes a break after hours in the field under the sun, he fucks you in the shower when you go to bathe to clean off the dirt from a productive day of work and he fucks you when you go to sleep with his calloused hand squeezing your throat, your eyes are rolled back as he fills your fertile pussy with his thick cum for the eleventh time that day.

That repeats itself every day so it's no surprise when just a month later you find out you're pregnant, did that soften it? No really I keep fucking you mercilessly and squeezing your throat until you see stars but you notice him rubbing your flat belly from time to time.

"The children in my family are big— when the baby grows up you may feel a little uncomfortable at first but don't worry, you will feel better during the seventh or eighth pregnancy."

Yandere Cowboy link

Well, reader actually does like yandere Cowboy (since she doesn't know what a bad person he really is) so from the start she wants to be with him and does what he asks her, she stopped taking birth control when he asked her to, she let him fuck her where he wanted and kept her legs up with a pillow underneath for half an hour so his semen wouldn't leak out because he asked her to.

Besides the fact that he knows how to take advantage of her, she's too young and naive and believes that besides her father he's the only one who loves and values ​​her, so it's normal for her to let him sneak into her room (secretly from her father obviously) to fuck like rabbits, he squeezes her in a tight mating hold that barely lets her breathe keeping her legs pressed down almost touching her ears.

He pumps his fat cock into her pussy frantically as she lets out low mewls, he uses a calloused finger to rub circles on her tiny clit that tightens around his member from the overwhelming pleasure she feels and he lets out a guttural growl as he watches her delicious tits bouncing right in front of his face, with one final thrust he cums deep inside her womb flooding it with his swimmers.

"That was so good baby doll, ugh— ha! I bet after this I'll get you pregnant with twins, and if that's not the case we'll try again and again until it works."

Yandere Dilf link

I'd be over the moon, really. He already believes you're his wife, he's believed it since he first saw you holding his son (very delirious) and for you to accept that fact so happily and willingly to be his, to have his babies, would only increase his already enormous delusions.

You won't be going to college anymore, of course not. You'll stay home to take care of his son and prepare everything for when he comes back from work, as a reward he'll make love to you every night without exception, he'll fuck you fervently with one of his hands covering your mouth, muffling your high-pitched moans while his cock drills your swollen pussy mercilessly.

He'll kiss your tits and neck before licking the salt off your skin as he tells you how much he wants to fill you with his babies, that you'll be the prettiest mother ever, all fat and round with one baby in your belly while you hold the other on your hip, he keeps repeating those things over and over again until he finally reaches the limit by cumming deep inside your swollen pussy just like it should be.

"Darling— let's do it again, what if once isn't enough...? Come on spread your legs."

Yandere Sugar Daddy link

Honestly this man is arrogant as fuck when he sees how happy and willing you are to be his and have his brats, he'll end up gloating while pinching your cheek telling you how proud he is that you came to your senses and are his good little girl.

Obviously he'll take you to live with him in his mansion a big one so his future children can have fun running around all over the place, you'll drop out of your law career after all now you have him and his kids soon so why study? He'll fuck you anywhere, he'll fuck you on his private jet forcing you to ride him while the embarrassed stewardesses serve champagne without making eye contact, he'll fuck you on all fours in front of the fireplace filling you with his cum over and over again scolding you playfully when his cum comes out of your pussy staining his 50 thousand dollar carpet he sticks two fingers in your pussy plugging you.

He doesn’t stop fucking you when he finds out you’re pregnant, he doesn’t stop fucking you when you’re 7 months along and your stomach is all big and swollen, he lays you down on the bed making you ride him you bounce up and down as best you can while his hands rub your ass before moving up to your belly heavy with his child, his child, just the thought of him doing this to you turns him on so much, he ends up cumming inside you every time, without fail.

“Fuck— I wish I could put another one of my babies inside you right now, see you even more swollen with my children. Shit— move again.”

[pencil-n-pen]

SUDDENLY I HAD A VALENTINE

𓏲𝄢 ⋆. ୨୧ ˚⋆ 𓏲𝄢

post prison!spencer x hopeless romantic! civilian!reader

masterlist | kofi

i’ve rejected affection for years and years, now I have it, and damnit, it’s kind of weird

Valentine, Laufey

summary: spencer reid isn’t a genius or renowned criminal profiler- he’s just the guy who frequents the same coffee shop you do; the guy you’re probably, maybe, a little bit in love with. But you’re not the kind of girl guys like him like— right?

cw: honestly genuinely cannot think of any this one is just soft and sweet (with a touch of angst bc it’s me)

tags/tropes: strangers to lovers, spencer is so whipped, reader is a hopeless romantic, spencer finds this cute, romance novel references (i have read a LOT of them), no colleen hoover jumpscares, however there are of ali hazelwood references bc Love Theoretically is my favorite romance book of all time

a/n: something short and sweet !! trying to get over my perfectionism by just posting <3

title taken from Valentine by Laufey (GO LISTEN TO LAUFEY)

𓏲𝄢

There’s a coffee shop within a twenty minute walk from your apartment that you like to go to. It’s more a cafe, really. They’ve got a little case with a small selection of pastries and such, as well as a nice, calm little atmosphere. Cozy.

You’d decided that you wanted to read more. You’d always enjoyed it, before—

Before. And now that you have more free time on your hands, you’d thought “what better time for some good old fashioned escapism?”

Your tbr pile was a mile long and you’d found the coffee shop and it seemed like a perfect little scenario.

That was probably about a year ago. Things are different now. Not in a bad way, just the way that things change as time goes on. You’d ended up moving apartments- somewhere smaller, but you’d gained a window that overlooks the street, so win, you’d switched jobs —you work from home now— and you’d kept your nose firmly away from any and all real life romantic endeavors.

Almost all of your friends you’d met through your ex. The unfortunate thing about that is when you broke up, they were more attached to him than you, so things got a little… lonely. You have other friends, of course, but most of them have busy lives— boyfriends, husbands, kids, successful jobs, travel. You text them when you can, hang out when they’re available, but you spend most of your day, everyday alone.

You’d struggled a lot, at first. But then you take a page out of all of your books: romanticize a quiet life.

You’d stared at your empty apartment, your new desk set up for your job and decided to romanticize the shit out of your new life.

It was slow going at first. You didn’t really know how to get started, what you wanted your life to look like, so the first few months were spent primarily on Pinterest. But ideas formed, plans were made, rooms were carefully designed and days were quietly spent.

Which leads you to where you are now: a mostly lone woman leading her ideal, romanticized life. Romance books, working from home, coffee shops and thrifted sweaters and everything on your Pinterest board. You’d picked up (and dropped) several hobbies, everything from scrapbook journaling to watercolor painting to simple embroidery and sewing. You adore the lopsided and ugly-cute DIY Jellycat rabbit (appropriately named Elizabeth Bennet.)

It’d taken a year, but you felt safe and comfortable again. And throughout this entire process, you still managed to avoid or kill any attraction you’ve had for any passing man.

Except Spencer, or as you’ve dubbed him in your head, Hot Coffee Shop Guy.

You only know his name because the barista’s call it out when he takes his coffee to go, which he doesn’t always do. Sometimes he takes his coffee or tea in the cafe, sits at the same table in the far corner (almost directly across from you, as you like to sit right next to the large windows at the front of the cafe) and read.

You and him read very different books. Sometimes he reads large, thick textbooks. Sometimes he reads dusty old books. Sometimes the things he reads aren’t even in English. A very stark contrast to your fine readings of Ali Hazelwood, Elsie Silver, and Anna Huang.

Ever since you can remember, you’ve had a thing for guys who read. Not casual reading, but reading-reading. And you can’t help but think you compliment each other in aesthetic— you with your brightly colored romance books and cozy clothes, soft and cute in that way that screams “I listen to Laufey”, and him with his old books and faint smell of pine and his button downs and grandpa cardigans, looking like he listens to Tchaikovsky and The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns.

And it’s kind of fun to daydream about. You’d never act on it, of course, guys who look as hot as him don’t seriously go for girls like you, but it’s easy to read The Love Hypothesis and imagine yourself as Olive and him as Adam.

And then he starts saying hi.

Which, okay, admittedly, is not much. But besides the barista’s —whom he’s come to recognize and strike up conversations with— you’re the only person in the cafe he says hi too. Even though there are other regulars he no doubt recognizes.

Even when he takes his coffee to go, he gives you a little wave. It’s become your thing. A “hello” if he stays and a wave if he goes.

It’s a nice little thing to have, is the problem. Who doesn’t want a jaw-droppingly hot man to make time out of his day to say hi to you specifically?

But it won’t go anywhere. Even if you hadn’t sworn off love until you’re in your mid-thirties, you’d be too shy to actually do anything about it.

You’ve seen how this goes down. He waves, you smile, you work your way up to going up to him, and he either has a girlfriend or isn’t interested. And even if, for some reason he is interested, he won’t stay interested.

So there isn’t a point to entertaining it, but you still do.

It’s fun. A little change in routine. A star-burst of excitement in your usual unchanging schedule.

—

Apparently, just because you’ve sworn off romance, doesn’t mean the universe has sworn off romance for you.

You’re at the cafe as usual, book in front of you and scrapbook behind your coffee. You’re considering making a coffee ring stain page, but you’re worried about mold and the possibility of it ruining other pages.

It’s late evening, the usual time Spencer comes in, and you’d preemptively ordered a ham and swiss croissant because you tend to end up too self conscious to get up or move around too much when he sits down, which is stupid, because he isn’t even looking at you.

He walks in right after you sit back down from ordering, so you entertain yourself with Love On the Brain so you don’t catch yourself staring at the soft brown curls and light stubble on his jawline. It’s very addicting, staring at him. He just has one of those stupidly attractive faces that beg to be stared at.

Today, he offers you a little wave, dipping down to catch your vision and a little “good evening,” as he goes by.

Wow. A wave and a hello. He must be in a good mood.

One of the barista’s —Sarah, she has two cats— drops off your croissant and rushes away, a hand pressed to her mouth, which is odd. She usually lingers so she can show you new pictures of Tweedle Dee and Microwave (her two cat’s names, respectively.)

You look down at the plate and notice a little something sticking out under the croissant. It’s their business card, but it’s upside down, and something’s written on it.

You take the little piece of cardstock, carefully reading the words written in scrawling but strangely delicate handwriting:

You look really cute today.

-Spencer

Ho. Lee. Shit.

You stare at the card, reading it and reading it and reading it and reading it and reading it and then reading it one more time, just in case.

But the words don’t change.

You look up at him, face hot, and make eye contact with Spencer. Who’s looking right back at you, textbook open on the table in front of him and a small smirk on his face.

You look back down at the table.

See, you don’t really get flirted with often. Or ever, really. You’d grown up watching early 2000s rom-com’s and then started reading romance novels in late highschool, so the disappointing reality once you hit 20 that you’d never had a boyfriend and the most romance you experience is in your head was something you had to adjust to. You’d had crushes of course, but then never went anywhere. And the few times they did never ended well. Hence the total life makeover after you last break-up.

You’ve never really experienced cute romance. Nothing like looks across a cafe and notes passed by barista’s.

He doesn’t come over and strike up a conversation, which you’re thankful for. That would be too much. He goes back to his reading, and you press the note into the pages of your book and pretend to go back to yours.

You don’t end up doing much reading that day.

—

It becomes a new thing. The notes. He doesn’t write them all the time, and they don’t always come with whatever pastry you’ve ordered. Sometimes they’re tucked under your coffee on its saucer, sometimes he slips them silently onto your table. But you always tuck them into whatever book you’re reading, so the way it’s worked out is that there’s little pieces of Spencer spread throughout a good portion of the books you own.

I like your sweater.

I think that hairstyle suits you.

Maybe we should trade books one day. Any chance you can read French?

You always look so cozy in your little spot.

Have I ever told you I think you’re pretty? (Joking, I know I have, just wanted to say it again.)

You were right about those ham and swiss croissants.

How do you get your annotations to look so pretty?

I like it when you smile.

It’s a lot. It’s tempting.

The little notes and his smile have (pathetically easily) wormed their way into your affection. You’re both afraid to get more and unwilling to go back to your normal life. You should, by all means. Appreciate the notes and then let this entire thing sail right on by.

So you do exactly what you always do when something like this happens. Consult your friends.

“He’s been giving you notes?” Penelope gasps, hand on her chest, “Hot coffee shop guy has been giving you notes, flirty notes and you’ve haven’t given him a single one?”

“I’m nervous!” You exclaim, face hot. “There are so many ways this could go wrong, and not just romantically. What if I take off the rose colored glasses and there’s this… this person who isn’t at all like I thought he’d be?”

Her expression gets a little sad at your words, and she reaches across the table to take your hand. “Okay, first of all, I have never known you to wear rose colored glasses. You’re a romantic, but you’re also too logical for that. Secondly, and I’m saying this because I love you, you need to get over yourself.”

You blink. “What?”

“No, really! You’ve concocted this entire, horrific scenario in your head about this guy who you haven’t even officially spoken to. You’re getting waaaaay ahead of yourself.”

“I know,” You look down at the cup of coffee you’ve been sipping on. Coffee at your apartment isn’t as exciting as coffee from the cafe, but Penelope wanted to hang at your place to catch up when you called her. “But I just keep thinking- what if the same thing happens again?”

She rolls her eyes, but the action is fond. “And what if it doesn’t? You’ve gotta try, babycakes. That’s what the whole romance thing is about. Taking the risk.”

“But risks are scary.” You whine.

“They are,” She says, laughing now, “But they’re also fun. I think you should give it a shot. At least hear the poor man out before you condemn him to being an axe murderer.”

“I don’t think he’s an axe murderer,” You say, “I think he might secretly be a self absorbed dick.”

“Trust me. I’m pretty sure in this case, the chances of that are pretty low.”

—

The next time you go to the cafe, Spencer is in fact there. So you push through your racing heart and sweaty palms and all the thoughts in your head that scream that is a bad idea and you take the little folded piece of paper and ask the barista to give it to him with his coffee.

Your deliberated over what to write in the note for a long time. Probably too long considering the fact that if this goes well, you’ll be writing more. But in the end, your favorite pen in hand, you’d written out a simple little:

Hi. I think your sweaters look really nice too. ♡

You’d felt like you were back in elementary school— giggling and passing notes. Unlike elementary school, though, the note passing doesn’t end in mild humiliation or heartbreak.

When he gets the note, he looks up at you, the same surprised expression on his face that you wore when you’d received his note the first time. Then, he looks down, reads it, and you get the honor of watching the most kissable blush spread across his cheeks as he readjusts his sweater.

It becomes your little thing. Your new little thing.

It’s easy to slip into, this cute little routine with Spencer.

Penelope has other thoughts on the matter.

“Sweetheart,” She says, and you can’t see her expression over the phone, but you can picture the set of her brows and the downturn of her lips, “I’m so glad you took that first scary leap and sent him a note back. But it’s been a month. Don’t you think it’s time to pick up the pace?”

“I’m taking it slow.” You say, voice half muffled by your scarf. It’s getting colder and colder and you wish the cold snap would just snap and snow already. If it’s going to be freezing, it might as well be freezing and pretty.

“No, you’re stalling. I swear to you, if I don’t hear about a date by the end of this week I’m going to go down there and ask him out for you.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Exactly. Okay, I have to go. Love you bye!”

The dial tone sounds and you slide your phone into your pocket, further burying your face into your scarf.

You’re not really watching your surroundings as you approach the cafe, the walk too familiar, so when a hand larger than yours reaches for the door handle at the same time, you glance up in surprise.

“Sorry—“ Oh.

It’s Spencer.

He smiles at you, the same, really nice smile that you desperately want to kiss.

“Shame that our first official word together was ‘sorry’.”

You feel your face heat despite the chill outside. “Not true. I think it was actually hello.”

His smile widens. “Hello to you too.”

You blink. “Oh. Oh, I see what you did there.”

He nods to the door. “Do you want to head inside then? It’s a bit chilly out here.”

“Yeah,” A smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

He opens the door. “After you.”

So maybe taking the first leap won’t be that scary after all.

[mojogojocasahouse]

unexpected visitor

jiyan x f!reader

Jiyan sneaks home to your bed in desperate need of a soft touch and sleep

c: NSFW 18+ only, smut, oral f-receiving, creampie, tacet marks are sensitive I don't make the rules, not beta'd

He slips in like a whisper, an unexpected secret cradled by the black of night. At first, you mistake him for the rustling of a rabbit outside the window and a burst of wind swirling beneath the clear moon, but then there was the clanking of metal buckles and the rustling of heavy robes falling to the floor. There was only one source of those sounds.

Jiyan.

Two weeks had passed since he’d left, and according to him, he was supposed to have been gone for much longer. Now, the mattress is dipping as he falls into bed behind you, a strong, warm arm circling your middle and pulling you flush against a broad, muscled chest, lips pressing to the curve of your neck.

“You’re home early,” you whisper, reaching back and threading your fingers through long, teal hair.

“Only for tonight,” he sighs, nuzzling his nose to the hollow behind your ear, “No one knows I’m away. I’ll have to leave before first light.”

“And what will you tell them?” you ask with a mischievous lilt.

“That I needed to sleep.”

Those words have you turning, his piercing gold eyes meeting yours and pleading for what only you can give him. He’s always said he can only sleep here, in the sanctuary of your bed. He doesn’t even have a home of his own anymore, it’s a tent on the front lines or this small cottage in the village. He has little in the way of belongings, but he leaves hints of himself around that you find and smile fondly at. Though nothing compares to the sight of him basking in white light, gazing at you as if you hung those very stars in the sky.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you soothe, brushing his bangs from his eyes. You already know the answer, but still, you ask every time in case he changes his mind.

“No.” It’s a polite but curt response, “You need not hear of the troubles of war.”

“But you’re troubles–”

“Are mine to bear.”

That will be the end of that discussion, as it always is. With a sigh, you cup the back of his head and pull him in, his lips so gentle and cautious as you welcome him home even if it is only for a moment. It’s your tongue that asks for entrance first, sliding along his bottom lip slowly, and he opens with a sigh. Large hands pull you in closer, your leg winding around his waist and you can feel his erection pressing against your thinly clothed slit. He’s opted to sleep with nothing on, as usual, and you curse the thin shorts you’d decided to wear. The grip he has on your side is hard enough to bruise, and you hope he has every intention of making sure you feel him tomorrow when you wake up in the bed alone almost as if he’d never come. Like this was all a fever dream. You’re still not sure if it is.

The tips of your fingers gently trace the Tacet Mark on his upper spine, his breath hitching as he flips you to your back. He kisses you like a man starved, nipping and licking into your mouth with greed and gluttony, his hips pulsing into your damp center as he slowly begins to lose that steadfast composure he holds so dear. You want him to lose it, too. He deserves to take for once, and you’ll let him bleed you dry.

As your teeth bite down onto his lower lip, he groans, taking one last parting peck before sliding down your body. The shirt you’re wearing is torn down the middle, and he latches onto one of your stiffened buds, his hands moving to cradle your other breast as if he hasn’t touched anything soft in weeks. His touch is so reverent and desperate that you’re whimpering as his tongue swirls and lips purse, your hands tangled in his locks as he descends lower, pecking a trail down your stomach until he’s pulling your shorts and panties off in one quick tug. 

Mingling moans echo off the walls as he locks onto your clit, your back arching off the bed as he suckles hard, worrying it between his lips before lapping at your soaked slit. You know you’re soaked, your inner thighs wet with what has already leaked free, and he takes it upon himself to not miss a single drop. As he’s tasting the sweetness sticking to your legs, you spread them further, inviting him back to bury his tongue in your cunt. And he does, happily, pulling you so tightly down onto his face you’re not sure he can breathe.

Muffled grunts and hums of bliss rumble deep in his throat, the vibration enough to have you keening in his hold. His talented mouth alternates between teasing your swollen bundle of nerves and enjoying the nectars of his labor, his face smeared and glistening every time he comes up for air. You want more, but you don’t dare stop him. If this is what he needs, this is what he can have, all you can do is scrape your nails soothingly against his scalp and try to quiet the roiling storm building in your belly. 

He’s waiting for you to come, you know that, but still, you try and stop the balloon threatening to burst. The sooner this is the over the sooner he’s gone again. And while you feign bravery and understanding of his long, frequent absences, deep down it breaks you every day to walk around town and see the couples together doing mundane tasks. They’re shopping, enjoying a meal, laughing and walking, and you’re…alone. You sacrifice the one you love so they can have this life, and while you’ve come to peace with this, no part of you has convinced you that you have to like it.

When he adds a finger, then two, you’re pulling his mouth back to your core by his hair, his smile stretched across your skin as the tip of his tongue prods so skillfully.

“That’s it,” he praises, “That’s what I want. Let me have it, baby.”

All he ever has to do is ask. Your orgasm washes over you gently like the waves on the shore, nowhere near as explosive as you’d been expecting, but you assume that was his intention. He knew you well enough to have discovered which of his ministrations caused which reaction and now he was almost tactile. It’s a little unfair.

No time is wasted, you’ve barely registered the end of your descent into the clouds and you can feel the soft head of his cock pushing into your cunt, your slippery walls giving no resistance as he bottoms out. He gives you a moment to adjust, taking advantage of your parted, panting lips to drag you into a messy kiss you can taste yourself on. You’ve missed the way he feels stuffed inside of you, bullying its way into a space too tight to accommodate his length and girth, but the burn subsides quickly and you let him know with a quick roll of your hips to urge him on.

The course hairs at his base are already soaked with your arousal as he begins to snap his hips into yours, the sound of skin slapping and breathy moans like a forbidden song drifting off into the night. His forehead is pressed to yours, the only air you can breathe is each other’s, and he entwines his fingers with yours and pins your hands to either side of your head, opening you up to his new, brutal pace. He can’t help himself, he’s long gone, drowning in the way your pussy clamps down around him every time he lets a whine slip out. You’d think he’d have learned by now and let his blissed sounds free, but he hasn’t. Maybe he never will.

“Jiyan,” you mewl, gripping him so tightly your knuckles turn white, “harder.”

It’s like something snaps, with a groan, he pushes himself up to sit on his knees, his hands claiming your waist as his hips begin to piston so hard his hold is the only thing keeping you in place. Your tits bouncing wildly hold his gaze as you cry out loud enough for anyone in the surrounding area to hear.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, regret in his voice because he can’t do it himself, “Come on my cock.”

Your two middle fingers dive to rub frantic circles on your clit, but you’re unable to focus as you dip your touch down to feel where he’s mercilessly thrusting into your hole. You can feel how stretched you are, how swollen, you’re moments away from release.

“Come with me,” you beg, your nails scraping down the firm dips and swells of his stomach, “Come with me, please.”

He looks wrecked as he lets himself lose control. His head falls back, his hair splaying across his shoulders, long enough to have the ends dancing over your skin. The way he glistens with sweat makes him look damn near ethereal, with green markings accentuating his clenched jaw as he tries to draw out what he knows is coming to an end. 

The molten pleasure boiling in your belly finally spills over, running through your veins until every muscle is tensed in anticipation and then released with a shrieking cry, his feral snarl joining you as he spurts hot, thick ropes of cum into your cunt. 

It’s a moment of stillness as you both catch your breath, his grip loosening as he fucks his seed deeper, enjoying how easily his softening cock slips through your channel. You’re so sensitive it almost hurts, but you’re not ready to lose the weight and stretch of him inside of you just yet.

“You need to sleep, my love,” you coo as he pulls out, immediately walking off to get a warm cloth to clean you with.

“Mm,” he hums, wiping what’s leaking from your fucked out hole, “In a moment.”

When he curls up behind you, there’s no stopping how you turn and bury yourself in his chest. It’ll be harder this way when he has to leave, but you haven’t heard the steady beating of his heart in too long. He chuckles as he wraps you up tightly, tucking your head beneath his chin, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your bruised hip. 

It’ll be just a few hours, and as much as you want to stay awake and relish in this rare time, you can’t. Sleep finds you easily swaddled in his arms, the faint arid, earthy smell of him the most comforting scent. When you wake, you’re alone, not that you expected anything different. However, one thing that wasn’t there the night before catches your eye–a single Pecok flower in a vase.

A promise to return home.

[valyriandreamer]

𝔇eformed 𝔇og

summary: in a strained marriage of political convenience, you and Jacaerys Velaryon are often at odds. But when Jacaerys brings a small creature as a peace offering, something the ladies at court seemed to all enjoy, apart from his stubborn wife.

paring: jacaerys velaryon x reader

The sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon, casting the Red Keep in the soft hues of evening. The large stone walls of your chambers were bathed in the warm glow of flickering candles, but their gentle light did little to soothe the irritation that simmered just beneath your poised exterior. You sat on the edge of a chaise, your hands fidgeting with the intricate embroidery of your gown, your thoughts tangled in the heated exchange from weeks prior.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Jacaerys to argue. From the moment you were wed, it had been clear that your marriage was one of convenience, not affection. You, the daughter of a powerful magistrate from Pentos, had been brought into this foreign land with the expectation of securing an alliance. Jacaerys, heir to the Iron Throne, was burdened with the weight of responsibility and political machinations. Love, in this case, had never been part of the arrangement.

Your differences—cultural, personal, and otherwise—had been apparent from the start. Where you were bold, confident, and unapologetically sassy, Jacaerys was serious, driven by duty, and far too level-headed for your liking. You had been raised in the courts of Pentos, where wealth and power meant indulgence, and you had never been denied anything. The transition to life in Westeros had been jarring, to say the least.

A small sigh escaped your lips as you stared at the fire, the memory of your latest argument still fresh. It had been over something insignificant, as most of your disagreements were, but the wounds it left behind lingered. Jacaerys had tried to apologize, of course, sending flowers and trinkets to your chambers, but you had not been so easily swayed this time. You were stubborn, after all, and you were not one to let him off the hook that easily.

Just then, a knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could answer, the door creaked open, and Jacaerys stepped inside. In his arms was the strangest creature you had ever seen—a small, fluffy animal with large eyes and a squashed face. You narrowed your eyes at it, unsure whether it was meant to be some kind of dog or a rabbit.

“Is.. is that some sort of deformed bunny?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you state at the small mutt in the prince's arms.

Jacaerys’ smirk was apparent as he closed the door behind him. “A deformed bunny?” he teased, his voice rich with amusement. “I expected something more creative.”

You huffed and crossed your arms, refusing to meet his gaze. “I still think it looks more like a bunny than a dog,” you muttered, glancing at the animal in his arms. The creature gave a soft whine, wiggling its nose.

“I think you know very well that it’s a dog, and you’re just trying to annoy me,” Jacaerys countered, taking a few steps closer. There was a certain charm to the way he moved—graceful yet deliberate, as if he knew exactly how to play the game of diplomacy, even in your marriage.

When he reached you, he gently lifted the puppy toward you, but his other hand moved to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The intimate gesture caught you off guard, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you shot him a pointed glare, though your heart stuttered at the sudden closeness.

“Or,” Jacaerys continued, his tone softening slightly, “perhaps there are no small dogs in Essos? You might be unfamiliar.”

You snorted, finally allowing yourself to look at him. “We have dogs in Pentos, Jacaerys. Large, beautiful ones. Not whatever this is,” you motioned to the puppy, though there was no real bite in your words. The creature was, admittedly, quite adorable.

Jacaerys chuckled, setting the puppy down on the chaise beside you. “This is a gift. I thought it might cheer you up since flowers didn’t seem to do the trick.” His voice was sincere now, and though you were still annoyed, you couldn’t help but soften a little at the thought. He was trying, at least.

The puppy immediately wriggled toward you, its tiny paws tapping against the velvet of the chaise. It nuzzled into your side, letting out a soft whimper as if begging for attention. You stared down at it for a moment, then reached out to scratch behind its ears.

“You think this will fix everything?” you asked, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.

Jacaerys sighed, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. “No. I know it won’t. But I don’t like it when you’re angry with me.”

For a moment, you didn’t respond. The room was quiet except for the crackling of the fire and the soft sounds of the puppy. Your fingers continued to pet the small creature, and your eyes focused on the flames as you mulled over his words.

“I don’t like being angry with you either,” you admitted quietly, though the words felt foreign on your tongue. It wasn’t easy to admit vulnerability, especially not with him.

Jacaerys knelt in front of you, his brown eyes searching yours. “Then let’s stop fighting like this. I know we’ll never agree on everything, but I don’t want to spend our marriage at odds. We’re supposed to be a team, aren’t we?”

You raised an eyebrow, still hesitant to let go of your stubbornness completely. “A team?”

He nodded. “Yes. I know our marriage wasn’t exactly our choice, but that doesn’t mean it has to be miserable.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of something other than frustration toward him. Perhaps it was the honesty in his voice or the way he looked at you now, as if he truly wanted to bridge the gap between you.

With a sigh, you finally relented. “Fine,” you muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “But next time, don’t bring me a deformed rabbit.”

Jacaerys grinned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of your smile. “I’ll make a note of that.”

You reached for the puppy, lifting it into your lap as it licked your hand eagerly. “What is its name?” you asked, your tone now more playful.

“I thought I’d let you name it,” he replied, standing and moving to sit beside you on the chaise.

You hummed, considering for a moment. “How about... Bunny?”

Jacaerys groaned, though there was a laugh in his voice. “Of course you would.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between you eased, replaced by a sense of camaraderie. You still had your differences, and you probably always would. But at that moment, with the puppy—Bunny—in your lap and Jacaerys beside you, the future didn’t seem so daunting. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage could become something more than just an arrangement. 

[llamagoddessofficial]

Can we get some Horror fae headcannons? I'm twiddling my thumbs and waiting for the big boyo to appear while I lose myself in your fae realms

Goodness, do try not to get lost. Though if you do get lost, he's certainly the one for you.

Quite similar to his non-fae self, really. Quiet, large, wild, bloodthirsty when required but completely unafraid to show his soft side to those he loves.

He does have a bit of a... 'reputation', in both realms. A reputation for being a frightening beast that you do not want to encounter out in the wastes.

Apparently, he did something unspeakable in Summer - banished from that court, he found himself immediately warmly welcomed into Nightmare's fray. He was one of the first of the Winter court.

He and Nightmare aren't exactly "friends", in the way Nightmare and Killer almost seem to be. But there's a certain degree of trust between Horror and Nightmare that just isn't there with anyone else. A level of mutual, unspoken understanding. They rarely talk to one another, but somehow, they seem to know each other very well.

(There seems to be some truth to the Summer rumours, given his absolute visceral hatred of even the word.)

Living in Nightmare's court means Horror has ample food. People are still scared of him, though.

Big fuzzy guy!! His wings are the biggest and softest out of anyone's; cuddling him will be like hiding in the thickest blanket imaginable. If you sit on his lap, you can pull his wings over you and fall asleep snuggled up like that. Rest assured, if you do that, you will never meet a happier skeleton.

Tricking you simply does not cross his mind. He's too slow with words for that kind of nonsense. If he wants to keep you forever, why does he need to steal your name? He'll just bake you the best pie you've ever had, that'll do it.

Or chase you down when you run. That works too.

Not good at telling you he likes you. He can show love just fine - gestures of devotion are part and parcel of who he is. But when it comes to the talking side of romance? An absolute wreck.

Killer helps. "hey, my buddy over there thinks you're cute," [points to the enormous shaking & sweating anxious monster who's unsuccessfully trying to hide behind a candelabra]

He tends to disappear for several days in a row, to go on long treks through the snow. They clear his mind. He probably knows the realm better than anyone alive. He would really like it if you came with, making you the first person to ever be invited along, but he doesn't mind if you don't want to go. He doesn't expect everyone to be interested in multi-day snow hikes.

(You could sit on his shoulders the whole way, though. In case that changes your mind. He'd also show you untouched natural wonders beyond comprehension. And he packs snacks)

His love language is bringing food back for you from his 'trips'. Baked salmon from the ice rivers, steaks of venison from the winter forests, slow-cooked rabbit from the plains, and on rare occasions bear stew from the mountains. If you're vegetarian it'd be good to tell him immediately because this will become a pattern.

He also likes making furs into clothes for you. For someone who struggles with shaking hands, he's surprisingly good with a needle and thread.

You'll never be cold, when he's around. And you'll never sleep alone.

[burningcheese-merchant]

Merchant! Please, rant to us about the mythological inspirations of the BurningCheese!

The fact that I came home and sat down and wrote out a detailed post for this ask... The fact that I did research into Hindu mythology for BurningCheese inspo in the first place... (sidenote: Hinduism is legitimately interesting, I had genuine fun learning about it even outside of cringe shipping bs)

THE FACT THAT THERE'S ACTUAL SHIT TO WORK WITH...

Buckle up, buckaroos lol (I'll put it under a cut in case it turns out really long)

Do note that I am not a religious scholar nor a follower of Hinduism, and I didn't do a suuuuuuuper deep dive. I spent a few hours reading different articles/sources and looking at some paintings and the like. Whatever I say is what I derived from my own personal understanding (and my old notes), which may well be flawed!

Let's start with the obvious.

Burning Spice is directly inspired by Shiva, Hindu god of destruction. Important note: in the actual religion, Shiva is not malevolent; the destruction he brings is considered a necessary part of life and the foundation of cosmic balance. He can be temperamental and violent, yes, but he is by and large a pretty decent guy and performs his duty in the cycle of life and death without complaint (obviously, this is where Spice deviates lol)

His hair is a fucking pitch black jungle. Matted af. Just like Burning Spice's. I just felt like saying that lmao (they both look like shit, Shiva wears animal skins and dead people's ashes and doesn't brush his damn hair. HE WENT TO HIS OWN WEDDING LOOKING LIKE THAT! (Until Parvati told him to please freshen up and he went "yes dear, anything for you <3" and manifested fancy groom attire))

Now let's poke our heads into the rabbit hole.

Parvati is Shiva's wife, whom he adores and is wholly devoted to (and vice versa).

She is revered as a life-giver. A goddess of creation, love, devotion, and... ABUNDANCE.

Parvati has many forms. Her original form is that of a beautiful woman wearing a red sari, with a GOLDEN HEADDRESS/HEADBAND and LOTS OF GOLD JEWELRY AND PRECIOUS STONES, WHICH SHE LOVES.

She's very beloved by pretty much everyone. She's elegant, vivacious, and revered as a doting wife and mother

I'm not finished.

One of Parvati's forms is that of a fierce warrior woman called Durga. She is powerful, confident, and no less beautiful than her original self

She has many arms, and a sacred weapon in each one. One of which is a GOLDEN SPEAR.

Durga is regarded as a goddess of protection, war and destruction - but not the malevolent sort. She fights and destroys the forces of evil, for the sake of others'; the destruction she brings is in the name of protecting and liberating innocents, and empowering creation

One of her epithets is Mahamoha, which means "great delusion" - and in this context, the delusion/ignorance derives from intense desire and attachment

Now, with all of that said, I'm gonna tell you guys a story.

Shiva's first wife was Sati, daughter of Daksha. Though they were madly in love, Daksha despised him and never approved of their relationship

The blood between them was so bad that Daksha declined to invite either of them to the yajna (VERY important ritual sacrifice) he was hosting. Against both social norms and Shiva's advice, Sati showed up anyway, which led to her father cruelly insulting her, her marriage and basically her whole fucking life in front of everybody

In protest of everyone's derision of her and the life she chose to live, she throws herself on the sacrificial fire and thus kills herself (extreme and unnecessary, I know lol). Shiva finds out and LOSES. HIS. SHIT. Shows up, goes on a rampage, hurts a bunch of people, beheads Daksha (whom he revives and pardons eventually)

In his grief, Shiva basically decides to retire from everything and seclude himself in the mountains, denouncing the world and everything in it and refusing to interact with anyone or anything

Sati ends up reincarnating as Parvati. She remembers exactly who she is/was, and made it her mission to return to Shiva's side and rekindle their relationship

Shiva doesn't buy that that's his beloved and rebuffs her. She doesn't give up. She tries over and over again to convince him and win his affection. She endures harsh weather without appropriate clothes, starvation, the faces of her own fears and doubts, endlessly; all while continuously performing acts of religious penance/piety. So unwavering is she in her strength and devotion that Shiva eventually, finally realizes that that really is the woman he loved and lost

They reunite and remarry quickly (and it was a big blowout event, too! Very important, there are even several sculptures depicting it!) and they live happily ever after

And a short summary of their union:

Shiva and Parvati are considered complementary forces; one without the other does not make sense and simply cannot be. Parvati is the warm, life-affirming, creative force that balances Shiva's cold, world-denying, destructive one. She's portrayed as having lured Shiva away from his lonely, ascetic lifestyle and showed him the value of life, love and marriage. They're almost always depicted together in artworks, as they're admired/adored not only for their loving partnership, but for the way they uphold cosmic order together. They are life and death. Attachment and detachment. ABUNDANCE AND DESTRUCTION.

It's commonly stated that Parvati is the outright source of Shiva's power. His shakti (not super sure how to explain what this is, it's not very simple. It's... ultimate cosmic energy, basically). She encourages and energizes him. Without her, he is incomplete

They have two kids :P two sons, Ganesha and Kartikeya. (I DID NOT KNOW THIS when I first made up the fankids, I just happened to guess the correct number of kids to give them lol. I thus decided to partially base Pepper Jack on Ganesha and Matar Paneer on Kartikeya, enjoy those links where I explain properly haha (and you can look through their tags to see more abt them if you want))

They also jointly represent harmony between sexes. Shiva is the male aspect, Parvati is the female

They also jointly symbolize love, devotion and sexuality and are said to have a lot of sex (and are also often depicted having sex)

Let me walk you guys through it all one more time. A god who, in his endless rage and grief, chose to forsake the world and all within it, for he believed he had nothing left to value from it...

Who is temperamental, violent, and is not above lashing out at others when he feels wronged... who can and will destroy everything in his path... (You don't need screenshot evidence of this but whatever lol)

Who will lash out at others if they dare to lay their hands on his counterpart, or otherwise keep him away from her...

... And his counterpart, a beautiful, vibrant, benevolent goddess who can take many different forms, including that of an elegant queen adorned with gold and gems, and a great, fearless warrior... (You notice how there's some red in her Soul Jam now? There's that bit of Destruction, used to defend others...)

Who's known and loved for the boundless love and warmth and charity she bestows upon one and all...

Who's known as a creator, a life-giver; who so cherishes the world and what she makes that she allows herself to descend into madness in pursuit of preserving it all... Whose desire and attachment led to ignorance and delusion...

Who, in stubborn defiance of the cruelties she faced, chose to remove herself from them and from the world itself for a time, only to eventually return with her identity and life's purpose still intact, and livelier than ever...

Who takes the form of a hero, a protector of the innocent, a warrior who battles against evil and seeks to vanquish oppression and tyranny...

And together, she and he make up the foundation of the world. The threads with which the great tapestry of the universe is woven. Life and death. Attachment and love for the world, and detachment from and contempt for it. A woman dressed in the finest garments and jewelry, and a man who embodies the unforgiving wilderness in which he sequesters himself.

Abundance and Destruction.

In conclusion: Burning Spice and Golden Cheese are literally Shiva and Parvati, they are husband and wife, they NEED each other and are meant to be together, together they create and maintain the balance of life and the universe, we must all band together and demand that Devsisters release the cutscene that shows their wedding, they are the bride and the ugly ass groom fr fr

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

I got this little idea last night, and been thinking about it ever since. Even tough outlaws need to have some innocent fun sometimes!

---

Hide & Seek with the Van Der Linde Gang

Arthur: Okay hider, much better seeker. His tracking skills are formidable, and he'd have no problem finding most players. Only problem is that his steps are quite loud and very recognisable, announcing his presence and giving the players a chance to get away. Is always somehow able to get out of Charles’ grip and flee, screaming “I am free!”

Charles: Being an incredible hunter, he's an excellent hider and seeker. He's, unlike Arthur, completely quiet, and is perfectly able to sneak up on people. However, he takes it way too seriously - when he's the one hiding, he even covers all the tracks after himself. When he's seeking, he hogties the players upon finding them, and brings them into a pile.

John and Javier: They originally made a deal to hide together, and serve as double lookouts. At first they're confident, but then Arthur gets too close and looks in their general direction, and John panics, and with a “Every man for himself!” pushes Javier out of their hiding spot towards Arthur, and LEGS IT.

Sean: His hiding spots are questionable at best, but he makes them work… For a short while, anyway. He's super strung up as soon as he sees the seeker, even if they're nowhere near him, and decides to try and bolt, giving himself away in a shock of red hair. 

Bill: Poor guy gets always found first. He's just too big to fit properly in most hiding spots, and he has a habit of grumbling about his discomfort at being stuck somewhere tight, so he gives himself away a few minutes into the game.

Kieran: Is also super easy to find, because he fidgets, making small noises, and gasps when a seeker gets too close. Honestly though, he's not too sad about having been found, he's just happy to be included.

Tilly and Trelawny: They are masters at hiding, and incredibly hard to spot. Tilly is able to fit and hide into places the seeker wouldn't even think to look, while Trelawny is the master of disappearing. The seeker always feels that they saw him out of the corner of their eye, but when they turn around, poof, he's just gone.

Mary-Beth: She gives herself away by giggling uncontrollably when someone gets too close, which is a shame, because she genuinely has good hiding spots.

Karen: The girl is an absolute menace, using her environment to her aid, tossing small objects around to create a sound distraction, and only lets herself be found when she decides she's thirsty and wants a drink.

Lenny: Constantly changes his hiding spots, and is quite formidable with it too. He never stays more than a few minutes in one spot, in case the seeker decided to check out wherever he is currently.

Reverend Swanson: He's not found until noon of the second day. He stumbled into some bushes, and passed out cold. The next day, Bill almost shot him, because he thought the shaking bush concealed a rabbit or something.

Sadie: Is not much of a hider. That is, she can hide really well, but finds it boring. However she is a terrifying seeker, even more so than Charles. She's fast, and she's quiet, and her “Found ya!” while revealing the hider, is just a total jump scare.

Abigail: Plays for a little bit, then lets herself be found, just so she can go relax. She's been working the whole day, let her live for heaven's sake.

Jack: Everyone 'ignores' him. Like, yes, they can hear the little kid laughing as he's only partially concealed by the door, but they pretend they don't, so that he can have fun. He ends up revealing himself when he gets bored, usually getting a “Woah! I didn't even see you!” reaction in return.

Uncle and Pearson: Decided to leave this activity to the younger folk, Uncle's lumbago is acting up, and there's no way Pearson's large muscular frame (his own words) would fit anywhere. They're playing cards outside, Uncle probably spinning some wild tale about how he once managed to hide in a rich Lady's closet all evening long, before being discovered by a maid, who however didn't give him away because he seduced her.

Molly: She doesn't really think the game is below her or anything, but she's got this new pretty dress, and she just had a bath and brushed her hair and trimmed her nails, and really, that's no way to be crawling and climbing around, trying to hide. 

Susan: Shaking her head, and hoping nobody maims themselves when they're running around. "Goddamn children, the lot of you..." She reads a good book instead. But don't go to her for hints, as she will give you a mean look and call you out for trying to cheat.

Strauss: He also doesn't join in, he's got numbers to count and books to keep, and, really, this is just silly. However, he's something of a tattler, and when the seeker walks by, he casually mentions having heard a sound from somewhere some time ago.

Micah: Bitterly sitting by himself by the campfire, mocking everyone for playing a children's game under his breath. Honestly though, he wasn't invited to join in the first place, anyway.

Hosea and Dutch: Sitting together, passing a bottle of whisky between them, just sort of watching and chucklin at the antics of their kids.

[arandomao3user]

Pls Batfam walking in on freaky timbern 🥺🥺🥺

Oh no! My anons are starved, no worries, I'll feed y'all U_U

(I have so many of the same exact asks, y'all have no idea. Not complaining, I just think y'all thirsty /j)

Minors DNI // Suggestive/ sexual material ahead. Shield your eyes, smols! You're to young, you're to beautiful! (I love that meme.)

Bernard hunts Tim down from time to time when nights are slow for the both of them, it wasn't arranged, hardly common, but it still happened. Tim had no complaints, especially when his sleep deprived mind doesn't exactly register why he's so compliant as hands move to push him against cold brick walls while he's in uniform, and his hands do tighten on his bō staff, in his defense, but perhaps it was a sixth sense at this point, like his body knows Bernard's touch better than he does. So, he's compliant and goes still and pliant in Bernard's warm hands on cold nights like these.

Their breaths fog, their lips touch and everything gets hotter from that moment on, when the heat pools in his abdomen and travels to areas it shouldn't, but then Bernard's lips attach to his neck and all his focus goes right into staying quiet. He doesn't push away, doesn't stop, he really, really doesn't want to stop...

Jason: Red, are ya— WHAT THE FUCK!?

Bernard, popping off Tim's neck: Hi, Hood.

Tim, so obviously out of breath and unable to form a coherent thought:

Jason: In my Crime Alley? In an Alley? In Crime Alley? You dumb f#-%$s are gonna get mugged!

Bernard: Worth it.

—

Sometimes Bernard and Tim hang out at the manor, sometimes, not often seeing as one or the other is usually busy and it's a bit of a distance between the Marina and the outskirts of Gotham in the area known as Bristol. Unfortunately a storm was brewing though, deemed unsafe to stay in Tim's "sad little boat"— Barbara's words, not his— and so, Bernard and Tim ended up in the sitting room.

It began all the same as these things usually do, cuddled up together while Bernard played some annoying mobile game with far to many ads, Tim asked if he could pay for the ad free version several times, all offers declined. Very unfortunate. At some point the rain pounding against the windows became a mild annoyance, the quiet hum of the lights, and eventually Tim got bored and took advantage of the fact his family had not bothered them in the last two hours they've been here.

Bernard only laughed when Tim began to nip at his neck, lowering his shoulders, tilting his head and making a comment about nippy birds, and in retaliation Tim all but shoved him down and invited himself into the blondes personal space— Bernard did it so often, Tim saw no issue in doing the same. Kisses turned to touches, hands slipping below the belt, a steady motion of hips moving and Bernard's hands being everywhere they could reach—

Stephanie: Get a room!

Tim, looking up as Stephanie and Cass walk in with a board game: We did. Go away.

Cassandra: Your own room.

Tim: That's to far and Jason banned us from library after last time.

Bernard: Alfred also banned us from being in the kitchen unsupervised.

Stephanie: Not our problem, your rabbits!

Bernard: Technically, Tim is a bird.

Cass: In that case, it is not spring, so you don't need to mate. Shoo.

Tim, rolling off Bernard, groaning:

—

Getting caught was an issue they ran into pretty frequently, Tim after all did have a very, very large family and friend group both as Tim Drake and Robin... Did this stop them? Evidently not, they'd probably never learn, and tonight would be no different as Tim parks the batmobile quietly, triple checks the trackers and ensures everything is offline, his hands were shaking in his gloves and his cheeks were flushed, he knows they were, they felt so, so hot, and when Bernard's hand touches this cheek, gently guides his head, he feels like his skin was set on fire.

It was reckless, and a certain amount of petty, getting mad at Batman and in retaliation stealing his batmobile to go joy riding around Gotham with his boyfriend. This wasn't the plan, doing anything more? But, Bernard kept looking at him, his hand kept finding his thigh, and at red lights he would choke slightly when Bernard pulled his cape.

So, in a dimly lit alleyway they parked, the tinted windows letting in hardly any light, the only thing preventing them from being in total darkness was the interior lights soft glow and the glow in the dark stars Jason had stuck in here ages ago during his Robin years... They ended up in the back seat, things progressing quickly, it was cramped and Tim was feeling it in his neck, but Bernard was working his utility belt off— right before the door swung open, the one Tim's head had been leaning against at an uncomfortable angle, and the two young men are met with the face of a very, very disappointed, tired, irritated, and sorta amused Batman.

Bruce: Grounded.

Tim: Wha—

Bruce: For three months.

Tim: B, seriously!?

Bruce: You stole my Batmobile to...

Bruce trails off, and looks constipated as he gestures toward the boys.

Bruce: This punishment is light compared to what I should do.

Tim: I'm an adult! You can't ground me!

Bruce: Benched for a month, grounded for three. End of story. Now buckle up, we're going home. And Bernard is sleeping in a guest bedroom.

Bernard: Damn...

Tim: This is kidnapping!

Bruce, closing the door to go to the drivers seat: That didn't stop me from taking Jason home. Now, buckle up.

—

TW: Consensual drugging. Don't ask.

Some things are arranged, for there's a difference between romantic and sexual attractions as well as fantasies. After all, they both liked to explore and learn, to push, to develop, and Tim liked planning. He liked plans, in general, and perhaps he got to excited when it came to planning things of a sexual nature, but the fact was he enjoyed it, and he definitely enjoyed it when Bernard improvised and surprised him mid way through a scene or plan. Any who, that's how they got here, in the back of a dimly lit bar in Blüdhaven, a solid bar with a solid three and a half stars! Which, for Blüdhaven standards, was very, very good. What was also good was the fuzzy feeling filling Tim's brain with the substance Bernard drugged him with.

Yes, dangerous, perhaps reckless, but Tim had fantasies and this was definitely one. Bernard only agreed because the drug wouldn't render Tim helpless, just blissfully out if it in every way known to man, but still able to know what he wanted. And he really wanted Bernard. There was a comment from he s boyfriend that had him smiling like a love sick teenager as he's led out and to the car they took here— Bernard didn't drink, so it was safe for him to drive — soon on their way to the hotel room they rented so they wouldn't have to make the hour or so drive back to Gotham Marina.

Except there's the colours of freedom flashing in the rearview mirror.

Bernard: Oh f#&$#.

Tim: Woah, bisexual lighting.

Dick, in his BPD uniform: Bernard? Tim? What are you doing here??

Tim: F#&$ the police.

Dick: Why is Tim slurring his words? Is he drunk?

Bernard: Uhhhh...

Explaining didn't go well, and Tim was banned from the Batcave's med bay for the next year after the incident...

—

[luvfy0dor]

Helloo! I love your blog smm! could I request fyodor with a child reader that’s very curious about things and often ask him about lots of things and do often run from his sight cause they saw something that peaks their interests? ^^ so sorry that this request was kinda long 😭

“But Satisfaction Brought It Back ♡⁠˖” Dad!Fyodor w/ Child! Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; none

Description; Fyodor brings curious child!reader to the park, but after being essentially exiled from the playground by some randos, reader sees something moving in the grass and chooses to investigate

A/n: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG I FEEL AWFIL, I HIPW ITS ACCEPTABLE AT LEAST </3 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE COMPLIMENTS

Headcannons;

★ Fyodor loves that you're curious, but sometimes the amount of questions you ask makes him wonder if your jaw ever gets tired from moving so much. He knows you didn't get that trait from him.

★ If you run away from him, he's walking after you at the fastest speed possible for him. He warns you not to go far because his stamina doesn't allow him to chase after you, but you still do it and it gets on his nerves a little. He knows you don't mean to, but it stresses him out like no other.

★ He often lets Nikolai tag along when he brings you to do fun stuff just in case he ends up needing the extra hand, and Nikolais ability is always great to bring you back to them.

Scenario;

You had one hand in Nikolais and one in Fyodors, happily walking along with them through a park near your home on a beautiful spring afternoon. They decided to have tea together earlier and figured it was a nice day for an outing. They picked you up and brought you to the park and sat on a bench next to one another while you ran off to climb on the playground. It didn't take long for you to socialize, immediately interacting with a girl your age. "Hey, you! Yeah, you with the blue shirt. You're not allowed up here, you don't have the password." You looked at the girl with confusion, grimacing and crossing your arms. "Well it's not your playground, I'm allowed up here if I want to! My papa brought me to play and that's what I'm gonna do." You reply, your eyebrows furrowed and a visible pout on your face.

"That's too bad! Scurry along, you peasant!" She sneered. It made you want to cry a little, but you bit your lip and stormed off. A small group of kids who seemed to be apart of her posse watched. You huffed and went to sit with your papa and uncle, plopping down on the bench. Fyodor and Nikolai instantly picked up on your sad demeanor. "Aw, what's wrong, Malyshka? Are you alright?" He asked, a hand rubbing your back sweetly. You nodde d and leaned into him, making him frown. "C'mon, kiddo, I'll play with ya if you'd like! We're those other brats mean to you?" He asks, bending down to your level. You shook your head and rubbed the oncoming tears out of your eyes. "No, they weren't..I'll go play again in a second, I just fell." Nikolai stands back up and rubs your head. "Alright, if that's what you'd like." He returns to Fyodors side, resuming their conversation. Fyodors comforting hand remained on your shouder for awhile before you decided to get back up. "M'going to play again, papa." You declared, humbly walking back over to the playground and settling for the swings. You sat down and started swinging your legs back and forth, watching the nature around you. You weren't too high in the air before you saw a something moving through the grass across the park. You dragged your feet to come to a halt and walked away from the swing set.

The closer you got, you could tell that the moving thing was actually a large, brown rabbit. Your eyes widened with excitement and you approached it further, following it through a patch of brush. The rabbit noticed you and jumped further into the woods, over logs and rocks. You followed it continuously, stumbling over the aforementioned obstacles trying to reach it. It was about this time where Fyodor noticed that the swing was sitting nearly perfectly still without you on it and his eyes immediately darted around the playground. When he couldn't find you, he called out your name, drawing the attention of the attention of the other kids. "I think I saw someone go down there." The girl from earlier pointed towards the woods. Fyodor cursed under his breath and made his way towards the forest as quickly as possible with Nikolai. "Y/n! Come back here!" He called out for you, worried and annoyed all at once. You had successfully pounced on the bunny, holding it in your arms and heading towards Nikolai and your papa again. You had now been satisfied in catching the rodent, an innocent expression on your face when your papa came into view. The rabbit was squirming in your grasp, but you held him out to your father.

"Papa, Uncle Nikolai, look what I caught!" Fyodor let's out a sigh of relief but places a hand on your back and guides you back to the playground. "Let that filthy animal go, sweetheart, it's probably diseased, and you cannot keep running off like that! I was worried sick, don't do that ever again." He says, a hand over his heart. You reluctantly let the rabbit go, turning to watch it dash off. "I'm sorry papa.." you mumble, grabbing at his cape. He sighs. "It's not fine, but I'm more happy that I found you than I am angry at you." He says, Nikolai nods in agreement. You sigh in relief and go to sit down on the bench, but Fyodor pulls you right back up by your shirt, like a kitten by the scruff. "No, you're going home to wash those rodent germs off of your hands, and then you're gonna pick up your bedroom while your at it." He says. You groan and accept the light punishment he gave. "Yes papa..." You weren't to upset about it all in all, because he could have been harsher on you, especially since you've repeatedly done this, but instead he only wanted you to clean your room; leaving the park and those mean kids behind isnt a loss in the slightest.

A/n; again I'm so sorry if this is bad, I feel horrible for it being so late but I'm locking in on my reqs now yall istg

[fancyfeathers]

@zainiscompletelydone333 asked a question

If the darlings were animals or birds, what would they be??

Oh this is an interesting thought

William’s darling would definitely be a rabbit or perhaps a mouse, like something very fragile and easily vulnerable to predators. Or I could definitely see a chinchilla as well.

Albert’s darling would definitely be a ferret since they're playful, affectionate, and quiet for a large part of the day. Ferrets also need to have others around, like other ferrets or their owners since they are social creatures.

Louis’ darling is a cat, but like the type who bites your hand if you even look at them wrong but then they are affectionate with only one person and you are just standing there like what the fuck. So feral street cat.

Sherlock’s darling is a dog, probably a husky or a beagle, super dramatic and whiney, but also super energetic and lively. Like she gets all whiney when Sherlock won’t let her in on a case just like a dog would.

Mycroft’s darling is a pomeranian, I can’t explain this one but if you know you know.

Moran’s darling is probably also a cat, but more of the ones that are super chill and honestly do not care what you do as long as you don’t bother them.

Bonde’s darling would be probably a robin since they are a form of songbird and it just fits the idea of Bonde’s darling being not to different from him when he was Irene Alder.

Von Herder’s darling would probably be an owl since they are often connected to intelligence and wisdom which kind of suits how I have written her.

Fred’s darling would either be a hummingbird or a doe, a female deer. I literally cannot explain this one besides it just fits with the vibes I get from them.

[mc-speculation]

Mobs that have babies (in game):

Armadillos

Axolotls

Bees

Camels

Cats

Chickens

Cows

Dolphins

Donkeys

Drowned 1

(The) Ender Dragon 3

Foxes

Frogs

Glow Squid

Goats

Hoglins

Horses

Husks 1

Llamas

Magma Cubes 4

Mooshrooms

Mules

Ocelots

Pandas

Pigs

Piglins

Polar Bears

Rabbits

Salmon (?) 5

Sheep

Skeleton Horses 2

Slimes 4

Sniffers

Squid

Striders

Turtles

Villagers

Wolves

Ziglins (Zombie Piglins) 1

Zoglins (Zombie Hoglins) 1

Zombies 1

Zombie Horses 1

Zombie Villagers 1

Mobs that do not have babies (in game):

Allays 6

Bats 7

Blazes 8

Bogged 2

Breezes 8

Cave Spiders 9

Cod 9

Creakings 8a

Creepers 10

Elder Guardians/Guardians 8b

Endermen 7a

Endermites 9

Ghasts 7b

Iron Golems 8

Parrots 7

Phantoms 11

Pillagers 12

Pufferfish 9

Ravagers 7

Shulkers 9

Silverfish 9

Skeletons 2

Snow Golems 8

Spiders 9

Strays 2

Tropical Fish 9

Vex 8

Wardens 13

Witches 12

(The) Wither 8

Wither Skeletons 2a

Whatever manner reanimates different kinds of zombies seems to reanimate the young as well as adults, regardless of their species or the type of zombie (ie. husks, drowned).

Conversely, whatever reanimates skeletons does not reanimate the young, and thus they are likely reanimated in a completely different fashion to zombies. The only exception is the skeleton horse, which must in turn be reanimated in a different manner than other skeletons. Perhaps it has more in common with zombies than other types of skeletons.

2a. Whether or not wither skeletons are reanimated in the same or a similar way to other skeletons is questionable. They share the trait of lacking young with other skeletons, but are otherwise quite different.

3. The Ender Dragon does not have young, but it does produce an “egg”. Assuming it is in fact an egg, and not some strange byproduct of the beast’s biology or death, this counts - regardless of if it can be hatched by a player or not.

4. Both magma cubes and slimes are capable of asexual reproduction.

5. Salmon can be found in three different sizes. Whether these different sizes are genetic, a product of the environment, or an indicator of age is not entirely clear. 6. Allays are capable of asexual reproduction (in this case it is a magical process rather than a biological one), but they are created as fully-formed adults, and thus technically do not have any subadult phases.

7. These animals do, in fact, have young. Their young are altricial (meaning they are born unable to move or eat independently, and are dependent on the parent(s)), so it is more that they are very unlikely to be seen due to the way that they are reared.

7a. Endermen are also altricial, and hide their young in burrows to protect them from predators, competitors, and their dangerous environment. 7b. Ghasts are another altricial species. They protect their larvae within their largely hollow gas-filled bodies, in a somewhat similar manner to the mouthbrooding of certain fish and other animals.

8. These creatures are created (or suspected to be created), not born, and thus don’t have any subadult phases. These creatures are called constructs.

8a. In the case of Creakings, little is known about their nature in general. At this present time, they seem to be created by the Pale Oak, rather than having their own reproductive abilities.

8b. Guardians are constructs. but are also capable of reproducing. They typically have a eusocial colony structure similar to that of bees - the Elder Guardians being the queens, or reproductive females. Should the Elder Guardians die, however, the smaller drones can reproduce amongst themselves to produce more drones. Notably, drones cannot metamorphose into Elder Guardians like some other eusocial animals. This suggests that the different castes within their species were manufactured by their creators.

9. Similar to altricial species, these creatures do have young, they’re just unlikely to be encountered or noticed by players. In these species, it is because the young are born as very small larval stages, and are often hidden from view of potential predators - like players.

10. Creepers have consistently thwarted any attempts of study or classification. Whether they are a plant, an animal, a construct, or something else entirely, is up in the air. How, or even if, they reproduce is not fully understood.

11. The nature of phantoms is strange and little is known about them. They are undead, but do not resemble any living counterparts that could have died and been reanimated to create them. It is possible they are not animated by an external force, like how zombies and skeletons are, and instead are their own unique organism animated by other means. This makes their method of reproduction a real mystery, one yet to be studied and solved.

12. Pillagers and witches seem to be the product of environmental change in villagers. Thus, the reason their are no baby witches or pillagers is likely not because they cannot reproduce (though granted, it’s not been proven that they can reproduce), but is more likely because the young would just be villagers, and would only become pillagers or witches as they grow.

13. Wardens are bizarre and seldom studied organisms. Much of their life history is unknown, including how/if they reproduce and how/if they develop. This may be difficult to study - for a number of reasons, really, but chiefly because they are seemingly not from this realm at all, and the conditions they now live in may not allow them to reproduce or rear their young.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Why might a person’s patronus and animagus be different?

Well, it depends on how you see Animagus/Patronus working. My headcanon/theory is this:

Aninagus:

Your Animagus form is the truest essence of who you are as a person.

Sirius is a large dog because he is loyal and ferocious. Pettigrew is a rat because he's a rat bastard traitor. McGonagall is a cat because she's aloof and intelligent. It's about symbolism.

This is why I don't think James Potter is as evil as some of the fandom paints him. His truest essence is a stag, and while they definitely strut and are quite prideful, they also symbolize nobility and courage.

Patronus:

Your Patronus represents a person or idea of a person you feel will protect you.

Dumbledore's patronus is a Phoenix because it's how he sees himself. Very few people would be arrogant enough to think of themselves as such a magical creature — bit Dumbledore is.

McGonagall's patronus is the same as her animagus form because she's her own defender. Snape's Patronus is Lily because he still calls his first-ever friend to protect him. Tonk's first patronus was a rabbit (either symbolizing herself or, in my headcanon, her father, Ted) and turned into a wolf when she started viewing Remus as a protector and potential romantic interest.

Harry Patronus is a stag not because Harry's personality aligns with a stag, but because he calls on the idea of his father to protect him. Harry's Patronus is James.

I also talked about all this more here & here.

Since the Animagus form always represents yourself and the Patronus form can represent other people, the case where they are different can exist and is actually more common than the other way around, I think.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

When do think Malleus’s broken horn will be reflected in future events and cards? I ask this because I can’t tell at what point in the timeline the most recent events have happened, they’re likely all prior to book 7 including the upcoming event but then how do we know which overblots have occurred yet? I also wonder if the events are even canon to the main story, any thoughts on this?

Mm... hard to say? I don't even know if it would be reflected in all future events and cards since the horn injury is a pretty major spoiler for the main story. The only other character that had a significant change in design over the course of the amin story was Ortho. His College Gear became the default form he assumed for the events that came out after book 6, such as Fairy Gala: What If, White Rabbit Fest, Stage in Playful Land, Wish Lantern. However, Ortho does appear in his old Archetype Gear in Grim's Ceremonial Robes (Twst third year anniversary) groovy.

So if Ortho's College Gear is a potential main story spoiler that appears in events, shouldn't Malleus's horn injury also appear in events?? Maybe...? But I feel that seeing Ortho in his College Gear is different than seeing Malleus's horn... If you were a new player seeing Ortho in the College Gear with zero context, you would not associate it with his independence and finding his own identity. You'd just assume it's another outfit Idia made him. However, seeing Malleus with a very noticeable physical change makes people start asking questions. It ruins the twist as to how they defeat book 7's major and powerful boss, and it also may completely shift the dynamics of how he interacts with peers (since breaking the horns reduces his magical power), which isn't the case for Ortho. This makes me think that Twst won't commit to depicting Malleus with his injury in all future instances.

As for events, the fandom generally accepts that they are largely not canon to the main story timeline. Rather, they are "what ifs", "AUs", "parallel worlds", or "things that happen outside of the canon of purview of the main story's timeline.

Yana seems to imply this as well. According to a 2020 interview: “Sometimes the relationship between characters changes completely in the main storyline, which will leave me scratching my head and wondering, ‘When did that part happen?’. However, I am sure that more and more events are going to be held in the future, so I am wondering if parallel and ‘if’ worlds are going to start appearing.” (Fan translation by Yuurei-san!)

Practically speaking, there is absolutely no way they all fit in the 8 and a half months (September to mid-May) that the main story so far spans. Some events you may be able to easily slot in (like book 5 going into February and Beans Day taking place in February too), but it overall creates way too many contradictions. For example, Stage in Playful Land takes place around Halloween. However, Ortho appears in his College Gear in that event, meaning that this must be post-book 6--it has to be the Halloween when Ortho is a second year. But if that's true, then none of the third years in the event should be there because they should be off on their internships. Yuu would also be recognized much sooner in the main story if we accept that the characters' familiarity with them in the events are true. (For example, Yuu knows Malleus's identity in the events, but does not learn his name until late book 5 of the main story.) If you tried to fit everything into the same timeline, you would very quickly find plot holes like this. Events can't really mention main story things or even OBs so as to avoid spoilers there.

It should be mentioned that there are times when events are hinted at in the main story. For example, Silver and Sebek mention taking the Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles course in book 7, which implies that those events may be "canon" to the main story (but it could just as easily also just refer to the course in general and not the story event). These instances are very few and far-between though.

[efingart]

Fic request 🥺👉👈

In Bo6 they kind skated over Alder and Woods’ friendship and I wanna see more. Could you write a little fic of them interacting?

Hey anon! Thank you for this request!! 💙

This was so very interesting. Both of these guys have these huge emotional walls up. I imagine friends are a challenging thing for both of them to make and keep. Not exactly the type to talk about their emotions. Which is great I love when everything is just under the surface. I think I'd like to write another one of these from Adler's perspective to see how it goes.

Frank lit a cigarette and stared out at the dark water. He often took to doing this at night when the Safehouse began to quiet down. He thought about his team. Felix and Sev had been arguing earlier, but he could now hear their laughter travel from the kitchen. He was sure Troy was upstairs reading over a letter from Terry, working over his next move in their correspondence chess game. The same move he'd been mulling over before they had to cut and run. The soft sounds of the TV news must have meant Case was on the couch likely dozing off. The guy pushed himself too hard.

Frank stuck the cigarette between his lips and rubbed the tops of his knees or what was left of them. It had become a habit of his, one he didn’t like too much when he realized he was doing it. Reminded him of some of the old guys he had met over the years. Always talking about their aches and pains. He was sidelined sure, permanent desk duty yeah, but he didn’t feel like an old guy. Neither he nor Alex had ever seemed old to him. An ache clenched at his heart as he thought about Al. Al would never be an old guy. They would never be those crusty old vets sitting at the VFW drinking beers and talking about the good old times.

He pressed his thumb against one eye and reached across the bridge of his nose with his forefinger, the pad of his finger against his closed lid. He dragged his fingers across his skin bringing them together to pinch the bridge of his nose. Footsteps on stone behind him, he quickly moved his hand away from his eyes to pluck the cigarette from his mouth. He knew from the confident footfalls that it was Adler.

Adler already had a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He cradled a mug in one large hand which from the smell of it contained some of Felix’s stew.

“Figure out Felix’s mystery meat yet?” Frank joked. Adler stirred the contents with his spoon and inspected a white chunk. “Best guess is rabbit.” “Probably a good guess.” “Let’s just say I’m not about to ask him to confirm it.” Frank chuckled at that.

Adler tucked his cigarette between two fingers and picked up his spoon again. Steam trailed from the mug only to be quickly swept away by the sea breeze. The silence between them lasted until Frank’s cigarette was just a nub. He stubbed it out on the railing and flicked it away. Then he winced. Another bad habit. He remembered the last time he visited David the kid had given him a lecture about recycling and putting his cigarette butts in the trash instead of tossing them on the ground. He even showed Frank some cartoon about it. A blue guy fighting pollution… or something. If it made the kid happy he was willing to do it. He wondered if Adler's kids watched the same show. Adler certainly didn't care about where he tossed his old cigarette butts.

Adler finished his stew and went back inside without a word. Frank thought he was alone again, but before long Adler was back carrying two beers by the neck between his fingers. He handed one to Frank who popped the cap off against the railing and took a swig. Then he examined the label on the bottle. “Gotta clear our names so we can get back to the States and get some real beer.” Adler nodded and tapped the neck of his bottle to Frank’s. “Drink to that.”

A silence passed between them. That was one thing Frank liked about Adler- he never needed to just talk. He was comfortable with quiet. Some guys jabbered on and on. Talking about nothing. Filling the air with words so they wouldn’t have to sit with whatever they were dealing with in their heads. He tried to picture himself and Adler at the VFW sharing a beer and laughing about the old times. Maybe it’d happen. Never in a million years did he think it'd be the two of them that were left. Everyone else was gone, but not them.

“See you dusted that old thing off,” Adler said pointing with his beer hand at Frank’s bandana. It pulled him from his thoughts. He touched the cloth that covered his forehead.

“Yeah, helps me keep my head in the game… Or something.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Adler adjusting his sunglasses. He rarely ever took them off, even at night. Frank had always suspected they might be corrective. But either way, they all had their things. The objects that made them feel more like themselves. And maybe acted as a barrier between them and the rest of the world. It was how they could stay so tough in tricky situations. Keep their cool.

“Guys like us can never leave this.” “Nope,” Frank agreed. Adler cleared his throat before lighting another cigarette. He was always a chain smoker and, of course, most guys liked to have a cigarette with a beer. But he knew Adler well enough, worked with him long enough that even though he put up a front he had his tells. They were just harder to see in him than other people. Frank knew he was stalling.

“Something on your mind?” Adler let out a soft hah!. “Come on you’re not exactly as mysterious as you like to pretend.” Frank nudged Adler’s side with his elbow. He cleared his throat again. “Just wanted to say thanks,” Adler said more to the sea than to Frank. The confidence in his voice never faltered. Always the arrogant bastard. Frank had to admit he liked that about him too.

“For what?” Frank asked with a laugh. He knew the answer. Adler was grateful Frank believed him. Not just to help him, but it made a difference to know there was someone in the world who had his back. Even a guy like Adler needed that comfort sometimes.

“You’re not gonna start getting emotional on me are you?” He asked.

Adler chuckled in response. Then he stabbed out his cigarette on the railing and flicked it over the edge.

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[vinestaffery]

Scythe X cop or detective reader where Scythe kidnaps reader to join her cult or somthing

of course!! im a bit tired atm and my schedule bursted up again, so the other people that have requested, i will be taking a bit of a while to post them fully, but i promise i am working on them!! sadly this is gonna have to be a drabble, im so sorry </3

Characters: Scythe, GN! Reader Prompt: One-sided Romance I think???, Small Drabble Warnings: Usage of (pet) names; Mentions of murder; Slightly descriptive but vague of how Scythe killed civilians; Religious themes; Kidnapping; Drugging; Scythe being a literal serial killer; Indoctrination(?)

Days were never suppose to be this harsh. You were always looking for new angles for the strange disappearances of many civilians in Lost Temple, yet it seemed like every new case was to mock your work.

Someone was watching you, for all you know.

Days were becoming longer, more dissociative then regular. Someone was watching you, you could feel it. It was like being played with like prey, if anything, a piece of meat in the claws of a carnivore.

But, it didn't let you shoot you down off your pedestals. You still, somehow, no matter what found a way to link to your suspects. White, gold and teal clothing, and the way the victims were left.

Cut, bloodied and garnished. Ripped apart in one slick-move, a slice. Head, shaven off of it's horns before being squashed like a tomato with a heel.

You were connecting up the dots to your very last suspect; Scythe.

You met her a few times, once at a bar, another when you had nearly gotten into some beef with some stragglers late at night. She was somewhat always there to support you, but would be never seen again. You took note of this.

When the investigation was left up to you, the police huddling outside for their break; the sun blared down below the alleyway. The shadows were your spectators, witnesses to a brutal massacre of several.

It was her. It was her, how she always disappeared, how everything seemed to become more of a blur. She was always there.

All she had to do, was find her, or catch her in the act.

"I'll get you, one way or another," you whispered to yourself.

"Well, you've bet to get on wit' it, don'tcha?"

A voice seemed to silence all thoughts. You didn't turn to face the new opponent.

You readied your hand-gun that was strapped to your left thigh, hand hovered cautiously over it.

"You and ya littl' ol' brain, finally come to make senses haven't cha? Fufufu..." Scythe laughed, a claw raised and a large weapon rested on her shoulder.

Your heart was thumping, you had no clue what had happened to the people that were here before; blood leaked across the floorboards.

"You must watch yourself, Snake, or else," you threatened, vile in your throat and hatred in your words.

"Or else what, my fine sheep, you goin' to do something?" Her name-calling was getting on your nerves. "The sheep, the one who follows, threatenin' big ol' me? Why, what a show."

"You best watch your tone, or else I'll get those men to take you away-" "And do what? Shoot me with this?" She plucked a gun from her pocket, you could hear it fall and chatter on the cold, hard ground. It rung in your ears.

"Say, maybe if you are ta hear me out, I'll leave ya' be!" Scythe snarled in a smirk, eyeing at you as you gave a small turn. Your hand still readied by your waist.

"And what must that be?" You questioned.

It took her seconds before she was up close, hand over your prepared one as she pulled you into a hold. Your hands, crunched in her soft leather glove while the other one, outstretched and squished by her metal.

"Scream, and everyone in this town's blood will be on your hands, rabbit," You were petrified but held in your sounds, clogged in your throat. You could just throw up.

She took notice, and started dragging you away. In a sorts of type of kidnapping, it was uncomfortable. She caressed your cheek, holding you close as she kept viable eye on you.

Everything started to become fuzzy, did she slip a drug into you by chance? No, she couldn't have. That's not her sense of style. But, everything and everywhere became unrecognizable.

"That's it, we're nearly there, my sweet," Scythe was astonished at how you were still able to walk, to even keep yourself up with her as you seemed to become tired and unable to respond.

Her scorpion tail came back close to her once more.

"Fucking- scorpion.." You pointed out, the tip of her stinger dripped a certain chemical before you fell into the warm-heated sand.

Light's blared into your face as you suddenly awoke. Your back was in pain, brain spinning and pleading to be free from it's coffin.

"Fuck-.. where?"

"Ah-ah ah! Don't want the doctors hard-work to be demolished shall we?" Scythe's voice rung through the room. It echoed in your ears.

"Where am I!" You screamed, but it seemed no use as she walked over. Her heels clicked to the solid, clear marble ground.

A hand reached over, two clawed fingers pinched at your chin and made her look up. God, she was tall, and quite beautiful, for a serial killer. "Wouldn't wanna wake up the others now, do we?" Her scorpion tail threatened as it reached in view.

Eyes widened, and a simple nod in command. She let go in a rough manner.

"Now, you best listen to me, or else you'll end up the same way those people ended up," Your ears wanted to close, but you made eye-contact with her.

She took it as an agreement.

"You've rose quite an interest in me, my sweet. I wouldn't think such people like ya' would be so heavily fascinated in my work of art," Work of art? What is she talking about? Those were never work of art. Those were polished crime-scenes of horror. Onslaughts.

"Now, I wouldn't want my favourite detective, my favourite sheep to be close to finding out about me now do I?" You shook your head.

"Good. Now, if you want to live and make it out of this room alive, you best follow my words," Alive?! "What do you mean 'make it out alive'? I have no deeds to share with you!" You spat.

"Oh, but you mustn't think of it that way. Think of it as a way of... saving you and mine's life. You see, I work for someone quite special deity," Special? Who could be anymore special then the SfOTH? The respected deities, gods if you will?

"There's no one as special as the SfOTH, those deities would crush someone as despicable as your boss."

That struck a nerve.

"You best keep that mouth shut, or else I will do more damage then what my boss would do to you and everyone in this god-for-saken town," Her weapon in hand, you squeaked. You stayed quiet once more.

"... Now, where was I? Ah, yes. I want you to join me, in order to protect you from the harms that might come your way for your... case," "Work with you?" "Yes."

You could nearly laugh! But you couldn't, you'd die.

"...Any benefits?"

"Oh, darling. Benefits were already arranged the first time we met," You snarled. Of course, she was planning this all along at the very start.

"Now, do we have a deal?"

Silence.

A long, period of silence.

"Well?"

You couldn't stop thinking about your family. Your friends, people you considered close.

"You best answer me, clock is ticking."

Your father, mother, what about your pets? What about, what about, what about?!

A slam of the chair, and a rising heat of pain strucking your face as you cried out.

"I've given you one chance at this, now you best answer me! Yes, or nay?" Scythe knelt down to face at you.

"One."

No Answer.

"Two."

No answer.

"THREE-"

"I ACCEPT! I will join your stupid- fucking team!"

...

"Good."