#possessive Hawks my beloved

[hirofirefly]

Vampire 👀🤤🤤💦

[sasdavvero]

as always, I end up liking my alternative universe(s) versions of canon characters more than the OGs

[takami-takami]

Like Animals.

kinktober day 4: sex pollen.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut

warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.

keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.

Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments. 

Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?" 

A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth. 

He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel. 

Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case. 

If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire? 

He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.

"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening. 

"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here." 

The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.

It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support. 

He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.

If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind. 

Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.

All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course. 

You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart. 

Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it. 

You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth. 

That he knows everything.

Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core. 

You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.

Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem. 

Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch with their own.

Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs. 

He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could— 

He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips. 

"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.

Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity. 

How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.

You huff an involuntary moan. 

He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half. 

Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.

But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms. 

More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.

If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.

The huff he lets out is your last straw.

"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.

When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.

He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?

It sends your hormones into overdrive. 

You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation. 

"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," Keigo warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you." 

He schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry. 

There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.

You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion. 

"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.

Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth. 

Ah, it hits you. 

Bird things.

Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.

"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.

"Please don't say it like that." 

"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?" 

His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—" 

"You don't wanna join me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"

"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips. 

Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.

With Keigo kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.

And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants. 

"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!" 

A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth. 

The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it. 

Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face. 

His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.

"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw." 

After a moment of silence, you speak.

"Please." 

Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.

The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire. 

Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch Keigo moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor. 

Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance. 

"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts." 

"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."

When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt. 

"You're so wet for me," he reveres in awe, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit. 

Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent. 

Until you shut the fuck up. 

Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory. 

Keigo wants to hear you moan. 

But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction. 

"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals. 

When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.

And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care. 

It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd. 

Pulling out, that is. 

Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.

But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.

He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.

"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"

He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end. 

With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.

When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.

With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.

When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.

"Kei', you okay?"

"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made. 

It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.

His eyes flick back to meet yours.

"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?" 

You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.

"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.

[nebbyy]

King Baldwin IV x reader - I’ll be waiting for you

A/N: Well, how could I not make another fic for King Baldwin when the other one I made is my most liked post yet, so I decided to write this little pieceee. Sooo I guess I should warn y'all that this one will be a little less historically accurate (not that the first one was that great of a historical piece but you get the idea). Oh and as usual, this fic came into my mind the moment I saw the painting just below (which is "the Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets Over the Dead Bodies of Romeo andJuliet" by sir Frederic Leighton)Now enough chatting, more King Baldwin brainrot. 

Summary: in a desperate attempt to protect his kingdom after having punished Reynald de Chatillon, the king is exhausted and the long ride has increasingly worsened his already wary condition. Once he’s escorted back to the palace, his loving wife wastes no time to reunite with her beloved husband.

Warnings: kinda angsty (no happy ending tbh), vague descriptions of Baldwin’s illness related wounds. Also, reader specifically described as female.

Word count: 3209

You sat on your throne, high and proud like the royalty you were. But under the facade of your noble confidence, you felt small. Smaller than ever, actually, as the yelling of all the men in front of you filled the air and rose up to the open sky. With a simple, reckless act, Reynald de Chatillon and Guy de Lusignan had just screwed years of efforts that King Baldwin had spent trying to maintain that delicate peace that required so many lives and time to build. All washed away from the raging river that were Reynald and Guy. 

While the two men tried to defend their senseless attack, backed by a substantial group of men, another opposing group shouted at them, berating them for the offense they had given not only to Saladin but also to Jerusalem itself.

You sigh, fighting the urge to cover your ears, and curl into your own body; you opt to just turn your head and look at your beloved husband. He looked to be in a similar state as you were: although his face was now fully covered -a means of hiding the decaying state of his leprosy-ridden body- his head was bent with weary alertness, like a hawk watching its prey from a distance. You watched his body, languidly seated on his much larger throne, the only sitting position that brought him no discomfort, though it looked almost more like he was about to lie down. 

It broke your heart to see how that disease had ravaged Baldwin's body, in recent years more and more. To see him there, on the same throne on which he once sat tall and proud, while now he barely had the strength to stay upright. And you knew he was thinking the very same thing.

You were about to open your mouth, whisper something to him, anything, in order to shake him out of his thoughts and that chaotic situation, but you were interrupted in your actions by an official, who rushed to the king's side, handing him a scroll. His bandaged hands clumsily opened the scroll, and you found salvation from the noise of the room by concentrating on watching Baldwin read carefully. You watched his eyes, blue as the sky and like the waves of the sea that brought you to the Holy Land, now covered with a pale glassy glaze. 

You frowned when you heard Baldwin freeze in place, even his sitting became more erect, as if a cube of ice had slid down his back. With his gaze still fixed on the words written in that letter, he merely raised his hand slightly, a clear sign of his will.

"SILENCE!" his guard's shout resounded through the hall, overpowering the furious shouts of the men who had been barking at each other for hours now. They all turned to look at the king; their faces, a few moments ago darkened and wrinkled with anger, were now smooth and relaxed, their eyebrows raised in astonishment at their king's order. Funny, you thought, how these men because of your husband's condition sometimes simply forget how much power he possessed over them. Before it was as if he wasn't even in the room, and they were all playing at being great leaders, now there they were, staring at him, motionless as statues, submissive as ants. You curled your nose discreetly, your face a mixture of disgust and contempt. Pathetic, you thought.

After what seemed like an eternity, Baldwin finally looked up at the crowd in front of him, finally revealing what it was that had shocked him so much. "Saladin has crossed the Jordan with 200000 men," silence fell, and you felt your body going numb. Your ears seemed muffled, you could barely perceive what was happening around you. At that moment you felt so much fear for your kingdom, and concern for Baldwin and what this impending attack would cost him.

And anger, against those two fools who out of sheer vanity had endangered the lives of all the inhabitants of Jerusalem. They had put Jerusalem itself at risk; they had put Baldwin at risk.

I was brought to attention by Baldwin, who was struggling to pull himself up from his throne, walking toward his most trusted man. "We must meet him before he reaches Kerak. I will lead the army," your husband's voice was hushed and soft, so that only the man in front of him could hear. But it did not escape your ears, the implication those words had: Baldwin wants to stop Saladin, and he wants to do it himself. But this could cost him his life. 

You couldn't stop yourself; you jumped up from your seat, eyes wide in an expression somewhere between fear and surprise. Baldwin turned to look at you, the woman who always took his breath away at the mere sight of how beautiful she was. You did not fail to have that effect on him again this time, but not because of your beauty: in your eyes he saw your terror, that this was the last time you would see him alive. They hypnotized him, and begged him in a silent prayer not to leave, to give up this plan, have an ambassador sent, anyone else. Hell, let him send Guy himself to intercept the Saracen, let him be beheaded and his murder settle the account that he himself opened. But the storm of emotion in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotion flowing from your eyes

But the storm of emotions in your eyes contrasted with the gentle stream of emotions flowing from Baldwin's eyes, barely visible because of the cover concealing his tortured face. He too, through them, was silently pleading with you: but he was asking you to trust, to let go and follow his plan, to try to forget for at least a moment all the warnings the Physicians had given him over the years.

Eventually, you relented, turning your gaze away and opting to stare at a random spot in the corner of the room. Baldwin gave a silent sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, a sign of gratitude, although you could not see it. He turned to the men of his court, and with the little strength his body afforded him, he spoke in a loud, determined voice: "Assemble the army and protect the city."

All this reminded you of the last time Baldwin fought Saladin: he had barely completed his seventeenth year, and young and still full of life, he was ready to ride against the invincible Saracen king. But on that day God had been more merciful. He had granted you, if nothing else, one last night to spend with your husband, had given you the gift of a minimum of time to ensure that you bid Baldwin a proper farewell before he met what could well have been his end. Instead this time, you barely had time to briefly remove the thick veil from his face to give him a fleeting kiss and exchange a handful of words. You fought back the tears as you looked at him, opting instead to bring your hand to his cheek, the flesh of his lip having receded and decayed to such an extent that it had receded down to his cheek, eventually turning into a long scar that protruded down to his cheekbone.

"Let me go with you, I will wait for you at the castle of Reynald de Chatillon-" "No. It is too dangerous. If things go wrong with the negotiations, I don't want you or my sisters anywhere near that man." It was not often that Baldwin interrupted you while you were speaking. He respected you too much to not allow you to finish your sentences, so the fact that he did just now spoke of how important this was to him. 

"Then promise me you’ll come back to me. Safe and sound." He snorted softly, giving a hint of smile before copping his face with his hardened hands, "You know I can’t promise it." You know that, but that blatant honesty of his, which you always loved so much, was not what you wanted at the time. No, you wanted reassurance, no matter how truthful, no matter how worthless his promises may be at the end of the day, You need that fleeting distraction that mitigates the fear that’s been eating you from the inside since Baldwin put on his armor. May you risked never seeing him again.

"Please just say it." Your voice came out much softer than you meant, almost less than a whisper, perhaps because of the knot in your throat, which threatened to break free carrying a river of tears. For a moment he remained silent, turning suddenly his face towards the voice of a nobleman who called him from the entrance of his room, but did not even dignify him with an answer. After all, his attention was completely turned to his world. To you. Before I answered you, I drew your head to his with my hands, so that I could place his forehead against yours. Finally, he spoke softly, in that loving tone that he reserved only for you: "Then I promise you that I will return to you in no more than three days, and when I return I will be victorious, and I will be riding."

After that, that moment between the two of you, which so much looked like a heartbreaking farewell, lasted just before Baldwin had to go to his horse to guide his men to the enemy.

And it wasn’t long before the harsh reality became clear to you: he had lied to you. Not maliciously, of course, you were the one who begged him to say those words after all. But the fact is that three days became four, that news of the army of Jerusalem had not come any more, that the last thing you heard of your husband was that only the ride had already tried his weakened body.

Another day passed, then another, and at the dawn of the fourth day since his absence you felt your heart sink. Had something happened to him? Had the negotiations failed? What if his illness had suddenly got the better of him? Or worse, Saladin and his men had shot him, stabbed him, or yet again captured and publicly executed,…

Your mind began to spiral into an ocean of possible reasons behind this delay, and you swore that your breathing had finally stopped once and for all when a messenger on horseback arrived at the palace, frantically dismounting from his steed to rush into the throne room and bring you the message: "The negotiations were successful, but the king is in critical condition! He is returning to Jerusalem on a canopy," you dismissed the man with a slight wave of your hand, so weak that you almost looked numbed; Baldwin's advisors began to chatter, but the background murmur of their murmurs did not seem to reach your ears. No, your attention was elsewhere; it was entirely on your husband.

You took your leave of the court, hurrying to your rooms. There, like a hawk waiting impatiently for prey to feed on, you perched on the balcony overlooking the city below you, on the walls from which not many days ago Baldwin had emerged leading the army.

It was there that you began to think again, this time with a clearer mind as you knew that at least Baldwin was alive and on his way home. On his way to you. Still, this whole situation reminded you of when you were only sixteen years old, and you stood on that balcony as you do now, waiting to see Baldwin return on his horse. And on that day, when he was visible to the naked eye, and your eyes met, you saw all the life and strength of one who had just defeated the greatest enemy of his time. At that moment, he seemed almost immortal to you: he looked like a god riding proudly, leading the thousands of men behind him towards their home.

How unfair fate is, to cut short his life so early. His physicians gave him no more than thirty years, but that time seemed to you to be shortened even more when you finally caught sight of his canopy. There he lay, sprawled and motionless like a dead body, surrounded by the soft cushions and riders on either side of his transport.

Just two years ago such a journey would not have fatigued him in the least; now he was risking his life just by riding a horse. Your eyes threatened to fill with tears thinking about how much he had loved riding a horse, and now he found himself bedridden, unable in his passions. You wasted no time running through the palace corridors, eager to reach your beloved as soon as possible.

One turn to the right, then another, then down the steps, and finally straight to the palace doors, where the finely decorated canopy led the love of your life.

You rushed to his side, gently taking his mutilated hand in yours while the other stroked his masked face. He breathed faintly, his eyes closed as he tried to regain his strength after his disease had dealt him this last bludgeon. Feeling your gentle touch, Baldwin's eyes fluttered open, his glassy eyes the color of heaven meeting yours.

"You've been reckless, my love. Putting your life at risk just to do the job of a messenger!" you scolded him, but Baldwin only smiled fondly at your words. "I promised you I would've come back. And that I did, alive too." Although his voice was so weak that it sounded more like a huff of air rather than a sentence, its tone was still laced with playfulness.

It made you unable to resist the smile that was threatening to form on your lips; you did not grace him with an answer yet, opting instead to move your hand to remove the silver mask from his face. You could see his surprised and relieved expression, as he was now finally able to breathe more freely and to look at you properly. He breathed in the sight of you, almost as if trying to take in as much of you as he could. "I can't tell if it's the travel or the sight of you that takes my breath away."

You just smiled bitterly and shook your head at his silly declarations, "It must be the ride, it has tired you so much that it's making you speak nonsense." he giggled weakly, much more tiredly this time, almost as if he was about to doze off. But he fought the tiredness nonetheless, opting to just shake his head and admire you with a lovestruck look. "Maybe I am hallucinating, I think I'm seeing heaven above me."

It was supposed to be a compliment that would've made you giggle and blush, like the ones that he showered you with daily. But instead, it made your heart clench at the bare idea of it. The idea that this would be his last moments before the energies spent for this expedition would be too much for him to handle, and God will reclaim his most virtuous man. It made your throat tighten, and your lower lip tremble.

You tried to hide your troubled state, moving your hand quickly to the curve of his neck. There, you placed a soft, butterfly-like kiss on the little places of skin that haven't been mutilated and bloodied by the leprosy. You kissed him one more time, then another, and another again..

In the end, you lost count of how many kisses you had given him, in a desperate attempt to mend your premature grief, to ground yourself in the feeling that Baldwin is there. He is alive. Yet the feeling of his skin against yours, of his chest rising up and down and his arms weakly holding your soft body, it wasn't enough to stop the tears to start flowing down your cheeks.

And that didn't go unnoticed to Baldwin, who mustered all his strength left to hold you just a little tighter. "Have my words upset you?" you sniffled, trying to recollect yourself before lifting your head to look into his eyes. "No, my dear, you could never. I just-" you stopped for a second, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed in your throat, "promise me this is the last time. Please, tell me that you will stop this nonsense. Let your trusted men handle these matters, command your man like a king not a general!" your hands had moved to his arms, a gesture to both ground yourself and to accentuate just how desperate you were in that moment, only wanting him to just listen.

"I beg of you, my love, stay here. Where you can rest. We both know that you don't have much more time left to live, so stop doing everything in your power to shorten it anymore." A sob slipped from your mouth at the last part. It truly astonished you how careless he seemed about his own condition, almost as if he forgot that any move could be the death of him.

He frowned and sighed at your words, squeezing your forearms softly before he spoke softly. This time though his tone was clearer, less weakened by the outcomes of the past days. "I already spoke to the physician about this: I have no choice, my angel. I'll be bound to my bed until a miracle will better my condition, or until death will take me."

You shut your eyes in relief, resting your forehead against his and sighing shakily, trying to recompose yourself. "I can't live in a world without you.."

"God will give us more time. I promise I won't leave you as long as I breathe on this earth. And. when my time will be over and there will be no future for us in this life, I'll be waiting for you in heaven, if I'll be granted the blessing of a place next to you there."

Not too long after, the physicians that Saladin had promised him arrived at the palace, and you were assisted as they tended to Baldwin's many wounds caused by his sickness. More than the sight of the gruesome pieces of open flesh, what appalled you was just how numb his body had become, so much so that he did not even feel their hands and tools working into his skin. It made you wonder wether or not he even felt your kisses from before.

And you make yourself that same question months later, when you place one last kiss into his forehead as he slept soundly before going to bed yourself, only to wake up to a cold body beside you. You wonder if he ever got to feel that last gesture of love before God had finally claimed him.

You only found solace in the thought that Baldwin would be resting in the realms of heaven above your head, contrary to what the Saracens believe.

A/N: Wowww this gets more fun by the day!! King Baldwin will probably always be my favorite character to write for. He’s my muse. As always ill be waiting for your feedbacks!!!

Oh and also, be prepared in the future for more fics waiting to be posted, I’ve got about ten that are just waiting for the right time to come to light, and many more will come in the future since I’m really finding it therapeutic to write.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi!! Could I request a Yan!Yoriichi vs Yan!Michikatsu for reader who's like Mipha from BotW?

Hmm. That sounds interesting! I can try this out!

Yandere! Romantic! KNY Hashira Scenarios: Tsugikuni Yoriichi Vs Tsugikuni Michikatsu

Unconditional kindness is like finding a gemstone within the rock, for the Tsugikuni Twins. Their entire lives, they were reduced to merely prototypes built to swing over six swords, like they never had emotions or desires

Their originally empty grey world finally found colour when you showed up, a angelic beam that changed the course of their destinies forever. They wanted love, they wanted you

Both twins became obsessed with you in very little time. You’re so kind and soft spoken, they both want that to be theirs and not a lot of things around them can stop that

Yoriichi is actually a very sweet Yandere. He can’t bring himself to hurt you in any form or fashion but he doesn’t mind stalking you in the midst of night. You won’t know about his twisted ways since he keeps it under the rug

Michikatsu, on the other side of the coin, isn’t that secretive of his passion and possession over you. He openly expresses his desires, stealing your belongings to feed his fantasies, pulling you away from others to have your attention

They realise fast that they both like you and the intense rivalry of twin brothers begin. All for love, they further stray apart and whilst Michikatsu actually hates Yoriichi, Yoriichi starts to hate Michikatsu for trying to take away his love

Yoriichi and Michikatsu argue, and argue like badly, over you. These arguments are usually verbal but Michikatsu will eventually raise his katana as a empty threat towards his twin but Yoriichi won’t take that shit, he won’t back down

They both clung onto you and play tug of war with you to force you to spend time with them. No matter what you’re doing or where you are, the Tsugikuni Twins will find you and suggest you follow them, eventually getting into a fight with one another

Which twin will take rivals’ life? It’s clearly Michikatsu. Yoriichi may be rotten and cruel now, but he isn’t for taking lives in fear that it’ll make you terrified of him, whilst Michikatsu will drain people like packets for merely looking at you. He isn’t afraid to express his killer instincts

Yoriichi is very protective towards you. This world is just full of demons and the only beings he is willing to slay for your safety is those rotten demons. Even in public with humans, Yoriichi is watching you like a hawk

Michikatsu follows you everywhere you go, he must monitor you to quell himself. To control his anxiety, he learns about your routines and learns about every events you go so he can better. If he knows everything about you, he has more of a chance

Your demure, introverted nature is intriguing to them, that you’re gentle but prefer to stay in the back. You’re courageous when you need to be and that is absolutely beloved by the twins. They just love your personality, they can’t help themselves

“My love. Please don’t get swept up with my brother, he is not the nicest out there and his intentions could be very wrong”

“Darling, my brother is a rotten liar. Don’t trust anything he says, he just wants to keep us apart, when we’re both meant for each other”

[marybeatriceofmodena]

Spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard under the cut (with a bit of criticism, nothing dramatic though)

I'm enjoying the game so far and all the lore reveals on Solas and the Elven gods (which are the best part of the game so far, hands down). I'm also liking the companions we're meeting so far (BELLARA <3), they're all very charming, but I think my one complaint is that... they're all too nice to each other? Not that there's anything wrong with that (I lied. Friends are USELESS IN MY PLANS FOR WORLD DOMINATION), but I'm really missing all the delicious little nuances the previous games had between the companions. Like, sure, players will tend to choose the "good" options for companions and make sure everyone gets along well, but you don't even get the option to, I don't know, set the can of gasoline on fire, or even get an occasion to even just put out the can of gasoline on fire.

Like, if Baldur's Gate 3 is anything to go by, players LOVE exploring tragedies, to the point there have been so many people who just replayed the game, again and again, just to see how different outcomes go. And I mean, I went in not expecting BG3 quality (as sad as it is say, because Dragon Age has been such a formative experience for me as a story). There's the nuance of Lae'zel and Shadowheart hating each other in part because of, yeah, racism, but also in part because they're much more like each other than they'd care to admit. There's the nuance of Astarion making fun of Wyll and dismissing him as an idealistic idiot, when you know it all stems from envy. There's the nuance of Karlach being hands down the most beloved person in camp, yes, but because all the companions see a little something of their own suffering in her, and see that despite it all, she decided to be kind. Like, yeah. They bicker. They argue. They might try to stab each other. But it makes them feel real, and it makes them becoming fire-forged friends all the more satisfying.

And maybe I'm just too early in the story for now, but it is... weird that everyone is just completely okay with Lucanis being possessed by a demon. Like, you'd think at least one companion would get a bit panicky about it (understandably so)? Like, maybe Neve feeling queasy around demons due to fears surrounding them/blood magic/insert tragic backstory element here? Hawke and Co. were maybe a bit too chill about Anders being a potential abomination, sure, but there was still tension there.

It ultimately feels like Mass Effect: Andromeda (except I'd argue the characters in DATV are actually interesting lol), where I just wish I had *something* to chew on lol. I'm not asking for a catfight, just something!

(There's also the fact that the Crows are way too nice as well but that's a topic for another day lmao)

[annie-creates]

Get you to fall in love

Pairing: Queen Ravenna x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1500

Note: A second part to Desperately by her side. There might be a room for one more in the story if it's requested, but for now that's it. Thank you so much for being a devoted reader of my work.

Finn’s task proved to be considerately more difficult when you not only didn’t want to be found, but were actively hiding from his guards and raiders. With each day his sister’s demands and threats got more and more obscure and impossible to fulfill, and every time he thinks there’s nothing worse that could come, she proves him wrong. They still needed to find Snow White, and that’s why she wanted to find you so desperately, he thought. So why did it seem like she’s more fixated on you than the culprit herself?

You travel through the land with nothing but your sword and a few practical possessions, choosing to travel light in case you needed to flee suddenly. The warrant for your capture was still out and many would take any chance to get on the queen’s good side and earn the reward for themselves. You escaped her own soldier by short a few times yourself. But the memory of her golden hair and stone-cold eyes made you wonder if it would have been so bad, going back and meeting her again, even when you were certain it would be the beginning of the end of your unfairly short life.

You were currently staying in a little town in the north of the kingdom, keeping your profile low. Exchanging the animals you hunted in the forests for potatoes and warm wool, working to earn a bit of money to get by around here. Growing suspicious and unnecessarily paranoid over the last couple of weeks staying in such a small place brough you calm and a little peace of mind. Surely no one would even look for you in such forgotten place on the map, right?

You shouldn’t have assumed though, because you are woken up by two soldiers covering your mouth and tying your hands. As you trash around to get out of their grasp, they drag you out of the small house where you were staying with a welcoming old man. He now stood in the doorframe taking a full bag of gold coins from one of the guards, hardly sparing you a pitiful glance. You cuss yourself out for having such open trust in people and humanity, when they’d sell you for tomorrow’s dinner. You can’t help but fear for your life as you’re helplessly taken back to the castle, the carriage speeding through your beloved land.

“Put her in the dungeon.” Finn orders when you arrive deep into the night and the soldiers throw you behind bars.

The dungeon was cold and moldy, you couldn’t help the shake going through your bones. The darkness didn’t feel welcoming but dangerous, like you didn’t know what could attack you from the deeps of the night. The steel bars are freezing your hands but it feels like you’ll get lost if you let go of them. The floor is covered in a thick layer of dirty straw, that being the only place for you to sleep or sit. So you sit down with your back to the cold stone wall, curling up into yourself to keep at least a bit of your body heat.

You are woken up by a harsh tug of your restrains, the guard walking your through the castle without as much as a single word. The moment you stand in front of the queen again, this time completely vulnerable at her mercy, your fear is once again overtaken by awe. There’s a different crown on her head this time, her hair precisely braided into a bun. You could say whatever you want about her personality but the truth was even a blind man would have to admit her ethereal beauty.

She looks at you with her hawk sight, analyzing your out of shape form. You seemed dirtier than the last time she saw you, and there was a tiredness to your face and shoulders she didn’t recognize. Maybe that’s just what months in hiding do to a person? Constantly looking behind your back must be hard on the neck. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat sympathetic for you. You still had your fierce and wit, but the over-the-top confidence was gone as was your sword and apparently even your sleep and nutritious food. You spent minutes just looking at each other, she analyzing you and you trying to guess how far the end of your life is.

“Aren’t you gonna bow to your queen?” She asks after the silence grows heavy and one of the guards kicks your knees in.

“I didn’t think my queen would care for my respects.” You counter, at least you’re gonna go out with grace.

“I’d be careful with your insolent tongue, I’m deciding how you’re gonna live the rest of your life.” She warns you as if it wasn’t the only thing you thought about ever since you got here.

“If it’s back in the dungeons I’d rather my tongue brings me the execution earlier than later.” You admit determinedly.

She furrows her brows at that, how could someone actually prefer death over life? But that wasn’t at all what she wanted to do with you, so she ordered the guard to bring you into one of the servants’ rooms and lock you in there. She’ll pay you a visit soon enough, but now, she needs to have a word with whoever threw you into the disgusting dungeon instead of giving you a proper place to sleep of bringing you to her immediately. And it was pretty clear who’s fault that was.

“Finn!” She couldn’t believe she was related to such a dumbass. “Care to explain why you would treat our guest so poorly!?”

“My dear sister, she’s a criminal! You should execute her for her impudence and disrespect immediately.” He disagrees.

“That’s no way to treat people we want something from, Finn. I have no intention to execute her, nor imprison her.” She clears. “Her talents would be of no use was she dead.”

Finn couldn’t see whatever it was his sister saw in you, to him you were just an entitled girl you’re a naughty mouth who needed to be put in her place or better, completely gotten rid of. He didn’t understand why Ravenna cared about such a low life all of the sudden, treating you to an actual room with a bed and warm food. To him you were no better than the rats in their outfall, your life completely useless and worthless. Meanwhile the queen was possessed with her fondness of you, ordering the kitchen to bring you enough food and making sure you are given fresh warm duvets and clothes. And after that, she visits you again the next day, even knocking on your door before entering to give you some false sense of privacy.

“How are you today?” She asks with a demeanor that makes you bow down to her instantly. “Did you think about your time here?”

“I’m still not hunting Snow White down for you.” You stand your ground, why else would she want you back here? “I’m not the right person to call for a dirty job.”

“No, I… wanted to give you a different offer. You might have noticed a person in my position doesn’t have many friends but has a lot of people out for their head. I want you to become my knight…” She explains with a vulnerability she wouldn’t show to anyone else.

“Why would I do that?” You surely weren’t the most trust earning person in your time here. “You’d trust me with your life after I disobeyed you?”

“I can pay you.” The queen offers, in her experience money could buy anything and anyone. “And I saw your incredible skills, I wouldn’t entrust my life to just anybody.”

“I don’t care about your money.” She should have noticed that by the way Finn described your lifestyle.

“Then what do you want, hm? Fortune? Beauty? Infinite life? I can give you that…” She promises, getting a bit desperate. “I can give you anything you want, anything you’ll ask for.”

What could she give to someone who already had all they needed? She feared you won’t find a reason to stay here, and she couldn’t just force you. not if she wanted you to grow some genuine likeness for her. You reconsidered and weighted the situation, you weren’t particularly thrilled about a service at the castle but you also wouldn’t reject help to anyone in need, and she has so far always treated you decently and with respect.

“Okay, I’ll work here for food and housing for a year. Then, I’ll reconsider my need here.” You finally accept, hoping to not regret your decision.

“Great! I’ll get your chambers prepared.” With a genuine enthusiasm she practically runs out the door to get you settled for your stay.

A year would be enough to get you to fall in love with her, right? And then she won’t have to fear about you ever leaving her side again.

[abirdonathrone]

maya hawke my beloved it’s an honor to be a top 0.5% fan

also will byers must have possessed me or smth because BOYS DONT CRY IS MY TOP SONG?? not what i expected but i mean it sort of makes sense

[hydrangeasimagination]

Enough Rope

Royal Gay AU - An alternate universe created by @i-cant-sing​ surrounding Yandere BNHA Characters making up different kingdoms, where in which the Reader's is the daughter of Dabi and Hawks. Though reluctantly; as the relationship is strained by the murder of her mother.

Pairing(s): Sultan! Dabi / Todoroki Touya X Courtesan! Hawks / Takami Keigo || Implied! Barbarian Prince! Bakugo Katsuki X She/Her! Sultana! Reader, Implied! Past! Akaguro Chizome / Stain X Reader's Mother

Summary: It was inevitable that you'd take the throne, you were groomed you're whole life for it. But never did Dabi think you'd have to take it so young. Nor in the matter you took it.

A/N: I wanted to get some vindication, Dabi and Hawks absolutely boil my blood in this AU so I kinda get to be a little vicious. The reader looks like her mum but has Dabi’s eyes, also uses SHE/HER and is referred to as Sultana.

(My addition of Stain + his relationship with her mother are non-canonical to the actual series.)

Warning(s): Character Death/Murder. Blood. Obsessive/Possessive Behavior. Reader is staging a coup. Angst. Cursing. Crying. Parental Death.

... You looked so much like your mother.

The royal colors looked beautiful on you, dripping in golds and silks. Ornate and elaborate, the veil settled on top of your head accentuated the set of white pearls that crowned it. Today of all days, anyone that gazed upon the newly coronated sultana and was absolutely mesmerized by the beauty that was even rule.

You even threw out the traditional blues and were wrapped in a beautifully dyed peachy pink.

Your late mother's favorite color.

In your throne, sat upon the cushion, alongside a blond prince about your age.

While his fingers entwined with one, you lifted the other delicate hand - fingers adorned with your grandmother's rings - to silence the room.

Dabi knew this day would eventually come, that he'd see you become Sultana with conviction and ambition running through your veins. A time he'd hope to be alive to see, with Keigo beside him.

He was still amazed to see it, despite his disdain for the colors you chose and holding that dragon brat's hand just to spite him.

... But as he was in chains, there was little to be done.

His daughter, so frail and weak, usurped the throne from him in one fell swoop.

Her soft little hands dug into his chest to rip out his heart, covering the innocent skin in the blood of his stabbed back. Her soft little self reaching out to the cruelly harmed citizens of their home to call them to her side.

As he looked up at his daughter, who looked almost 10 years older. Her eyes glaring icy daggers through him like he was nothing was perhaps the worst thing of all.

Keigo is bruised from the chains, wings nonexistent, as Enji took care in scorching them down to nothing. He was a mess and struggling, hissing at the guard, who proceeded to slam the man into the floor.

"Show some respect to the new Sultana." Kai commanded, clearly enjoying seeing how the blond practically foamed at the mouth.

"She's my daughter," He hissed between his teeth, "Know your place."

Your gaze sharpened and your voice boomed, "Do not speak, whore, lest I have Akaguro tear your tongue between your teeth."

Dabi briefly mulled over the fact that you sounded so much like him, authoritarian, an intense need to just... Collapse, washing though him as he realized what monster he'd created. He can't speak, he just stared at you.

Keigo looked shocked and indignant at your insult and order, opening his mouth to chide you for language before fingers snapped out and gripped his tongue.

The mercenary was someone deeply close to your mother when they were young, her sense of charity and kindness reached his heart.

Someone that she probably would've married if not for the caste system. He was selfish and he loved her, but keeping her safe from his life of crime meant that he had to let her go... He would.

Akaguro adored you as easily as he did his beloved friend.

So hearing that you were torn apart by the death of your mother, meant he was the perfect sword to point at the opposition.

In pure combat ability, Dabi didn't stand a chance.

Chizome looked to you as your father did.

The latter can see the satisfaction in your eyes, a smile so gentle and relaxed that he wondered how long it had been since he's seen you like that. How long it had been since he’d seen this expression directed at him.

“Let go for now.” You sweetly said, eyes falling over your father.

Before, he took pride in your eyes.

They were blue, the bluest of blue, like his.

As they coldly took him in, as they hardened to ice and threatened to burn him down... He wondered where everything started to go wrong.

You leaned forward a bit.

Your burning gaze didn’t leave him.

Deepening, darkening.

“Do you love me daddy?” You asked softly, so softly that he almost didn’t hear you.

It was shocking, jarring, even more heartbreaking when your eyes instead fill with tears past all the anger.

A sadness that chilled him to the bone.

Breaking his aching heart further.

Especially as your voice trembled, watery.

Just...

Sent a spike of panic straight down to his gut.

Was this why you did it?

Because you believed he didn’t love you anymore?

“Of course.” He didn’t hesitate, didn’t breath as he watched your face.

“Then...” You frown, looking as if you were about to start crying. “Then would you kill for me?”

“Always.”

He meant it.

He’d done it before.

“T - then why do you keep hurting me? Why do you keep hurting my feelings?”

The sob that filled your questions just broke him.

Ripping into his ribcage so painfully that he felt himself feel faint.

“Why did you keep Keigo around knowing I hated him? Knowing that I couldn’t stand him?” You hiccupped, the blond beside you turning to wipe your face with his hands “Is... Is it because you love him more than me?”

“NO!!!” He nearly screamed.

His eyes were wide, manic.

Panic pounding his senses as he realized why you might have done what you did.

That the heartbreak drove you into taking control because you felt unloved.

That he drove you into it.

“Prove it...”

Your blue eyes remained set on him.

There’s cold steel suddenly in his hands, a dagger, long and ornate.

“Kill him.”

A terrified face filled his vision as he turned to his concubine, his former concubine, helpless. He opened his mouth, to beg or plead or speak, Dabi didn’t care. Even as his mind’s eye reminded him of the nights they spent together.

He didn’t love this bastard.

He now knew.

Knew that Keigo caused all of this.

His presence alone made you think that your father didn’t love you more than everything in the whole world. That drove the ugly thoughts of replacement into your lives.

Keigo took you from him too.

He brought the knife down.

Again and again and again and again.

The knife came down in a frenzy, wrenching horrible noises from Keigo’s throat.

Sobs for mercy, of apology.

“Da... bi....”

Dabi slowly returned to his mind’s eye, shaking.

Blood saturated him, from body to hair.

Staring down at the red soaked face of his former lover.

He felt nothing but contempt.

Nothing but hatred pouring through his veins.

A free feeling settled in his heart.

He looked at you, shakily smiling, “See?... I didn’t love him. I could never love him more than you.”

You stared.

Doe eyes wide and soft, still wet and dark.

The smile that graced your lips warmed his heart.

But also confused him.

Why did you look so sad all of a sudden?

“... Darling?”

You didn’t respond and looked behind him, nodding slowly.

“I’m sorry daddy, but there needs to be blood.” There’s almost a shame in you, heavy bags now seen as the light fell from the skylight.

Making you look like the gift from the gods you were.

He didn’t understand.

“And the people have suffered for long enough without retribution.”

Katsuki wrapped his arms around you, tucking you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

It made Dabi angry but he was confused more than anything.

“I do love you.” You said quietly. “But I can’t let you live.”

The pain lasted for a moment, just a moment.

He coughed, spitting up blood.

Akaguro’s hands were red, face almost solemn.

Dabi is still looking at you, in the face of his beloved daughter, still with crying eyes and sadness pouring from every pore. The vestiges of his vision begin darkening, body cold.

“I wished things could have been different.”

He did too.

The last thing he saw was the bluest of eyes.

Eyes bore instead by the face of his late wife.

... You really did just look like your mother.

[notwarriorswiki]

As far as The Broken Code goes, Ashfur is being largely replaced in role by Flametail. It is Flametail who possesses Shadowsight and wreaks havoc on the clans within Po12, and Flametail's betrayal has a large impact on the main characters within Po3.

However, let's talk about Ashfur through Omen of the Stars.

Ashfur was unique in that he was Squirrelflight's rejected romantic interest, and his fire scene is one of, if not the most iconic scene in Warrior Cats canon.

Within Po12, Ashfur has a strong dislike for Tiger's family, still bitter over the role Brambleclaw's father played in the murder of his mother. Ashfur is very close to his sister Ferncloud, and a beloved uncle to her children. Like much of ThunderClan during The New Prophecy, he scorns Brambleclaw and doesn't include him on patrols. He doesn't let Brambleclaw visit Ferncloud's kits, but he largely wouldn't stick out narratively as much of the clan does this - including Thornclaw, Dustpelt, Ferncloud, Mousefur, Spiderpaw, and even Firestar, alongside more. There's a reason Tawnypelt left here.

Ashfur himself is simple and doesn't actually want all that much initially. Many would say he wasn't "asking for much" - he wanted a beautiful mate and to raise kits. He didn't want to be deputy or be significant, rather he wanted that simple happy family that he didn't get to have. His mother died when he was young, and his father wasn't in the picture.

And then he got to know Squirrelflight! She was Firestar's daughter, and had brought the clans to a new home. She was extraordinary in every way, and for Ashfur there was no one that came close. His dream was tied to her, and every moment he got to know her more, he became more obsessed.

And yet Squirrelflight was so close to that Tigerkin. Someone as glorious as her deserved someone far better than Brambleclaw! In Ashfur's mind, he wasn't wrong for wanting to split them up - rather he was doing her a favor. An act of true love! But as Squirrelflight slipped further and further away from him, he became desperate to get rid of Brambleclaw once and for all.

Like in the books, Ashfur conspires with Hawkfrost to kill Firestar, but he's not totally loyal to Hawkfrost. His plan was to let the Tigerkin take the fall, both Hawk and Bramble being outed as the terrors they were, so he could save the day and get the girl. He'd lead a patrol straight to them, fighting off Brambleclaw, and saving Squirrelflight's father, the clan leader!

But Brambleclaw doesn't do as Ashfur expects. He doesn't kill Firestar. He saves him. He gets the glory. He gets the girl. And then he has the audacity to act humble by turning down the deputy position. Ashfur is furious, but he can't do anything without risking ThunderClan finding out his part in the plan.

And thus we reach Po3, and I largely debate how to use Ashfur. It is still planned that Lionblaze spills the secret at the Gathering, and with Ashfur having been his mentor, it might be interesting for Lion to kill him, but that requires the Fire Scene to happen.

It was initially planned that Squirrelflight falls pregnant with Alder and Spark towards the end of the series, resulting in her realizing that StarClan willfully lied to her. She's angry and confused, confronting Leafpool about this and asking if she knew. I'd still like this to happen, with some tension between the sisters. But initially Jay and Holly overhear this, and the reveal is a lot quieter.

This last part isn't about Ashfur, but I also want to note the original plan that involved Sparkfire. Sparkfire is a villain character in Po12, and attempts to kill Hollystar and in what was my rendition of The Fire Scene after largely writing out Ashfur. If I give Ashfur his Fire Scene back, the question is then if Spark keeps hers. I like the idea that she does still get it, and Hollystar has a panic attack moment of sorts during it because she is reliving one of the most horrific experiences from her young adult life. On the other hand, I'm worried people might find it repetitive.

Now we can outline some options.

Option A: Ashfur Fire Scene AND Sparkfire Fire Scene Ashfur overhears Squirrelflight and reveals the secret in the Fire Scene, rather than Squirrel volunteering it. Things play out largely the same, but Lionblaze would kill him instead of Hollyleaf. It ties to his anger issues and him later revealing the truth at The Gathering. Sparkfire would try to kill Hollystar during the end of A Vision of Shadows, seeking to unleash StarClan's full power once more upon the forest after Jayfeather had sealed them away. She believes she has been stilted by her family, and that under StarClan's eyes she could be so much more - a gifted cat like she was meant to be.

Option B: Ashfur Fire Scene Warped AND Sparkfire Fire Scene Largely the same as Option A where Ashfur overhears the sisters and reveals the secret during the fire. But instead of all of them leaving alive, Lion kills him in front of everyone by just running and shoving him off the branch and into the fire. Squirrel, Jay, and Holly are shocked. Ashfur's body is found burned alive and the clan assumes that's how he died without investigating the murder. It is self-defense in a way, but it should be an eerie and uncomfortable death for Squirrel and the Three to hide. They flee to safety still hearing his wails of pain as he burns. Include Sparkfire keeping her scene.

Option C: Ashfur Fire Scene. NO Sparkfire Fire Scene Same as Option A for Ashfur. Sparkfire would attempt to kill Hollystar in another way to avoid feeling repetitive.

Option D: Ashfur Fire Scene Warped. NO Sparkfire Fire Scene Same as Option B for Ashfur. Same as Option C for Sparkfire.

Option E: No Fire, Lion kills Ashfur. Sparkfire Fire Scene Ashfur is almost entirely removed from Squirrelflight and Leafpool's parental drama, and is instead training in The Dark Forest. Lionblaze kills him, fired up by anger and bitterness for the abuse during his apprenticeship. Clan finds him dead the next morning and Lion feels immense guilt. Ashfur is still a bad person though and goes to the Dark Forest. Sparkfire keeps her scene as in Option A as there's no need to worry about repetition.

[takami-takami]

OHHHH THIS IS SO FUN thank you for the tag @aquadenks <3

rules: post the names of all the files in ur wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send u an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have wips!

These are all hawks x reader except one LMAO so i'm just gonna put a brief hint next to them. I'M SO SORRY A LOT OF THIS IS SMUT I STILL HAVE HAWKSTOBER I WANT TO FINISH... I have a feeling this is gonna get people to scratch at me for not finishing these yet, but:

Your God Will Make You Speak in Tongues || Priest!Hawks × Zealot!Reader. This one will probably come out like.... never ever, it's my first slow burn and I want it to be like 50-100k words but I literally need to get better at writing long things first.

Like Father Like Son || a dive into Keigo's morality + history

Touch-Starved || This one is old so I'll have to do a major makeover but, title says it. This one is really cute!

Untitled || this is another substance use support drabble that I might not finish or post because I don't think I'm in the right headspace to be trigger-sensitive so it'd probably come out like, not super comforting?

Do You See Me? I Hope You Don't. || this one is uhhhh probably gonna be one of those fics I keep to me

Two more untitleds on the same topic I probably won't post

Untitled || this one is abt Hawks and his wings, no reader.

Asphyxia || this one is soooo fun like I am unsure if this will get me comments like "um. Weirdge." Or "oh my god kink unlocked" BUT I really like this one!

Nice To Me || being nicies to him, counterpart to Mean to Me (on my kinktober masterlist)

A Case For Psychodynamic Theory || DON'T ASK DON'T ASK DON'T ASK jk its not that bad

Clicker Training || aha

Pretty Boy || aha...

All In a Day's Work || shitty asshole boss! Hawks x employee!reader

Gluttony || panty stealer hawks turned munch. You know how it is.

Untitled || Hawks bullies u for your kinks...

Untitled || More bully!Hawks

Untitled || phone sex lmao

Untitled || he purposefully spoils reader until they literally can't get off without him. On purpose. LMAO.

Untitled || Hawks plays dress up with the reader aww

Untitled || Another sub!hawks, nothin special

Untitled || THE DABI CUCKING FIC MY BELOVED I will finish her eventually. Like this has been in my drafts since spring 2023.

Untitled || omegaverse drabble. Covers my face.

Untitled || foot fetish!Hawks lmao

Untitled || sub!hawks again

Untitled || this is the pred/prey fic

Untitled || puppy!hawks x dominatrix!reader

Untitled || the glove kink one

Untitled || a dark content one

Untitled || possessive!hawks x work partner!reader

Untitled || scummy best friend!Hawks x naive reader

Untitled || being SO mean to him (note to self this is day 25)

Untitled || keigo's first time hitting it raw fic

WOW this is a lot. I will finish them..... God willing.

I tag: actually just steal this and say I tagged you ^-^

[dragonbma]

// All my Vos-centered MC:SM AUs & concepts: //

(Can’t remember how many I’ve shared here already, but I’m making a masterpost nonetheless.) Find all reference designs here!

Possession!Vos (Vos Possession AU) 👁️

(My prized AU:) After the adventure to the Sea Temple goes awry, Sammy is killed, Vos is left trapped, and Jack flees. Vos survives being caught in the obsidian cage, and Romeo has more in store for him… if he agrees. Unfortunately for the Admin, our favorite Sea Temple adventurer is incredibly homesick and declines his offer to be a champion. A decade later when Jack finally returns to the temple with Jesse, Vos is overjoyed to see his friend again. However it would seem the Admin isn’t quite done with him yet… Chaos and shenanigans ensue as the brita filter man is puppeteered by god himself!

—Full masterpost: here!

—Read here!

Oarfish!Vos (Oarfishposting AU) 🐟

Set in an AU where most characters are half-animal, Croco!Romeo is a ‘collector’ of rare hybrids. His challenges are all secretly traps to ensnare anyone he finds interesting. Unknown to Jack, the Sea Temple was specifically built to catch Vos… and it worked perfectly. Finding Oarfish!Vos and Pangolin!Jack intriguing, Romeo designed the temple to split the trio, kill Hawk!Sammy, and snare Oarfish!Vos in obsidian nets. Jack escapes and Romeo later lets Vos out of the nets while he quietly brainstorms traps for Jack. Without the gauntlet, Vos is able to explore the rooms, but can’t open the main entrance doors. The Admin still checks on him every now and then even if Vos doesn’t seem to enjoy his new home. He gets along well with the guardians at least so that’s a plus.

—Land, Sea, and Sky trio my beloved

—I love him.

Drowned!Vos 🔱

AU where Romeo curses Vos to become a Drowned and hunt down Jack. The Admin is upset that Jack threw away the gauntlet and abandoned the challenge after the Sea Temple adventure went awry and aims to use his presumed dead friend to take care of the problem. After filling the obsidian cage with water and uh… waiting, Romeo inflicts Drowned!Vos’ goggles with curse of binding that warps his mind into believing Jack left him there on purpose and fills him with blind rage. He is also given a prismarine compass that always points to where his target is. Not sure if a potion of weakness and a golden apple will cure this one, Jack…

—He might also get a trident if I’m feeling extra silly.

—Read here!

‘Neath!Vos 🥀

A spin-off of the Possession AU where Vos again rejects Romeo’s offer. Rather than simply locking him back up in the cages to rot, Romeo instead teleports him to a secluded part of the ceiling in the Underneath and traps him there via obsidian roots. The scavengers come across him and inform Binta who helps him escape and he becomes well acquainted with the Fred Folk after everything. Jesse and Jack eventually find him when they go to the Underneath with Xara.

—Based on a fever dream I had

—More here!

Champion!Vos (Champion Vos AU) 🗡️

A second Possession AU spin-off where Vos loses hope in being rescued from the temple and accepts Romeo’s offer to be his champion. Our favorite Sea Temple adventurer is trained as his apprentice until the Admin sets his sights on another, a certain “Slayer of the Witherstorm.” After things don’t go to plan, Vos may be reunited with an old friend… just not in the way he was hoping.

—Jack gets the clock :[

Mage!Vos (Fantasy Trio AU) 🪨

—Fantasy/DnD AU where the adventure trio (Barbarian!Jack, Mage!Vos, and Archer!Sammy) explore a magic castle in search of ancient artifacts. Rather than killed by guardians, Sammy is felled by drakes. Vos is afflicted by a tipped arrow he blocks and slowly turns to obsidian much to the horror of Jack. Nowhere near the entrance, Jack is forced to leave his friend until he can come back with a way to break the enchantment. But that may be a few years…

Ailment!Vos (Abyssal Symptoms AU) 🪸

It would appear the guardians and colossuses are not the only weapons hidden within the temple’s walls. A mysterious illness may befall any unfortunate enough to make it too far into the Sea Temple. In this AU, one unlucky adventurer will be one of the first to face an ancient ailment that affects both body and mind: the Abyssal Symphony.

Chipped!Vos 🏜️

A portal-hopping AU where the adventure trio find the enchanted flint and steel and make it to Crown Mesa. Computer chaos ensues as Jack and Sammy must save their friend from the clutches of technology beyond their understanding. “Welcome, Vos! Yay!” :]

Sandwaste!Vos & Treescape!Vos (MC:SM TempleSwap AU) 🗺️

AUs where the adventure trio visited alternate temples made by the Admin (instead of the Sea Temple.) Depending on the biome, they will face the harshest challenges both desert and jungle have to offer. Sand and vines aren’t as harmless as you’d think.

—This AU was mainly an excuse to design alt outfits for Vos.

Angel!Vos (MC:SM Angel AU) 🪶

AU where the angelic trio find out just how dangerous an abandoned shrine can be. Though the shrine that killed the Witherstorm was thought to be dormant, a quick venture around proves otherwise. In other news, someone comes into contact with the Witherstorm remnants and becomes biblically accurate! ^^

—Witherstorm laid waste to the land and killed everyone, making them all into angels. Admins remained Gods.

—The shrine was constructed as the angels’ last stand and it proved successful. After the storm’s defeat, the creature’s body fell and caved in the structure, leaving the place in ruin and littering its lowest levels with dangerous remnants.

Imperial!Vos (MC:SM Flight Rising AU) 🐉

—I have a WHOLE STORY about this lad but that’s a post for another day… Flight Rising my beloved ^^

[queenaeducan]

1, 15, 25 for both Anders and Gimli

Gimli first!

Why do you like or dislike this character?

I like both versions of Gimli so I'm answering for both.

I like film Gimli b/c I think he brings levity that I've found lacking in the chapters that don't have hobbits in them. Not that the hobbits don't have serious moments, but even in the death march to Mordor Sam has made me laugh, and Merry and Pippin both bring levity to the latter half of their section of Two Towers. In the films, Gimli fills that niche, sometimes to the detriment of his more serious character moments, but I do still appreciate him for it.

In the books I like how he's willing to change his mind, and endure things for the sake of his friends. Fangorn clearly makes him uncomfortable but Legolas wants to go so he'll go (if Legolas goes with him to see the pretty rocks in Helm's Deep). :') I do also like his stubborn moments, like pouting about being blindfolded in Lothlorien. He's definitely my fave part of the Aragorn-Legolas-Gimli chapters.

What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Legolas/Gimli is where it's at. The only place it could ever be at.

What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

So my first impression was the films. I watched Fellowship Extended back in 2001 unaware that it was a sequel to my much-beloved Hobbit, and was super excited about everything I recognised from the book in the films. Gimli was immediately like family as the son of Gloin and I treasured him.

And I still treasure him. It's been fun getting to know his book counterpart again after having only read Fellowship back in high school.

And now Anders! Putting him under the cut b/c I get critical of him, although I will preface this with saying that I think he's one of the most interesting characters in DA2 (which has several interesting characters so!)

Why do you like or dislike this character?

I like how committed he is to the cause he serves. DA2 has several characters who recognise the broken things around them, but don't move to stop it. Not always for bad reasons, sometimes people are just trying to survive. Anders being steadfast in his goals is admirable, and one of the things I like best about him.

I dislike how he treats others, however. Especially Merrill, who is my girl. He can be as quick to judge and condemn as the Chantry, whose views still colour a lot about how he sees the world, from his view on blood magic to his limited perspective on spirits. That being said, I do think this is one of my favourite parts of his character lmao. It feels very realistic based on my experience in progressive circles is that people still possess regressive views.

What's your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

I really enjoyed my Rivalmance Pro-Templar Hawke playthrough for the sheer toxicity of it all. My ships tend to be the more wholesome sort, but the energy of the Rivalmance ship is undeniably interesting.

For a less toxic, but still tragic romance, I like Karl/Anders and have read some sweet stuff for them in the past.

What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

In my first playthrough of the series, I started Awakening and recruited him, but didn't finish before I moved onto DA2 (my Awakening glitched and I couldn't do Sigrun's personal quest, which bummed me out so I just moved on). I honestly didn't get a strong impression of Anders in that game, but I really liked his nose and thought I might romance him in DA2, only to be turned off by him pretty quickly. Some of his hostility and caution was warranted, but the aforementioned way he treats other people didn't leave a good impression.

Now, I definitely appreciate and understand his character more. I can't bring him around with me in every playthrough, but the ones where I do he always has an important place in the party.

[bacchanal-if]

1700s Language

Word Count: 1,114

'Tis the end of summer, and London's lively streets bustle with the crowds of St. Bartholomew's Fair. As daylight fades from the sky, a picturesque scene unfolds under the gentle illumination of candlelight. Countless market stalls, brimming with merchants hawking their wares, create an unending fabric of commerce, and the very air carries the fragrant aromas of fresh meats and pastries, while the sounds of musical instruments, actors, and cheerful laughter reinvigorate the city. Diverse guests, representing all walks of life, gather to partake in the festivities, indulging in games, rides, and performances. Among these revelers is Aurabella, her heart filled with anticipation as she eagerly embraces the enchantment of the fair.

She navigates through the bustling crowds and colorful vendors, while in the shadows, a solitary figure observes her every graceful step with keen eyes. His gaze sends a subtle shiver down her spine, yet she dismisses it as nothing more than the heightened excitement that such a fair naturally evokes. Nevertheless, as she continues her exploration, an insistent feeling lingers—a suspicion that she is being followed.

Pausing before a display of exquisite jewelry, a warm and familiar voice reaches her ears, momentarily stealing her breath. "Aurabella, your appreciation for beauty remains as exquisite as ever."

She turns, her heart quickening at the nearness of the man who has long been the subject of her deepest desires. The interplay of light and shadow skillfully masks his features, as it has countless times before, leaving only his silhouette discernible.

"Your words flatter me. Yet, I believe it is your presence that truly enhances the sparkle of any gem."

He steps closer, brushing against her discreetly, still shrouded in the artful play of shadows. "A gem in the right setting shines even brighter. And you, my dear, are the setting that makes everything shine."

Aurabella's cheeks flush with warmth at his words, her heart swelling with affection for the man who possesses the remarkable ability to make her feel like the most cherished and beloved person in the world.

She glimpses a glint in his eyes, the only feature the lanterns seem to touch, and she recognizes that his words are not mere flattery but a sincere reflection of his deep admiration and love for her. She is not just the setting that enhances all things; she is the one who illuminates his life. She marvels at the incredible fortune of having found such a man, one who regards her in such a radiant light.

The mysterious gentleman extends his arm with graceful poise, and she accepts his invitation, her heart racing as she forgets about the jewels and places her hand in the crook of his arm. Together, they depart from the bustling crowd, moving toward a quieter corner of the fairgrounds.

The faint strains of strings reach their ears as they turn a corner. Before them, a puppet stage comes into view, adorned with opulent curtains and softly illuminated by candles.

"Shall we watch?" he whispers. She steals a glance at the man beside her, her eyes brimming with curiosity, intrigued by the thought that he may have had a purpose in bringing her here. Fate, she knows, plays no small role in their encounters. She nods her head in agreement.

Without further words, he leads her closer to the stage, positioning themselves where they can intimately witness the unfolding performance. The curtains part, and puppets, manipulated by unseen hands, make their entrance. They dance gracefully across the stage, portraying a tender courtship—a story of stolen glances, fluttering hearts, and whispered confessions.

"It seems the fair itself wishes to play Cupid tonight, weaving tales of courtship and affection," he murmurs.

"For how long have you planned this?" she smiles. He slides his hands around her waist.

"I have no notion of what you speak," he replies, though a smirk in his voice is evident.

The intricate choreography and the synchronized movements of the puppets—mirroring Aurabella's own connection to her suitor—are too precise to be mere happenstance. It is as though each step and each word have been meticulously scripted to echo their own love story. She smiles as her spirit soars, her heart resonating with the heartfelt narrative of the tale.

"Indeed, it is as if the fair is whispering its own love stories to us," she observes.

He chuckles, and she feels the warmth of his laughter in the air between them. She melds into his embrace, and he is more than willing to be her anchor.

As the wooden figurines draw nearer, mirroring a tender embrace, she feels a gentle pressure upon her hand—his fingers gently interlocking with hers, a gesture conveying volumes. She can barely contain herself from claiming his lips as her own, forcing herself instead to witness the puppetry in its entirety. Yet, as the performance reaches its zenith, with the puppets exchanging vows of undying love, Aurabella's restraint wanes. She shifts her attention, her ears attuned to the stage, but her gaze now wholly fixed upon him. The final scene plays out—a grand and ardent declaration of devotion—and the two puppets transcend from wood and string into flesh and blood.

Their mouths meet in a passionate and long-awaited kiss, reigniting the spark that had been building between Aurabella and her admirer throughout the entire performance. The audience bursts into applause and cheers, and they share knowing smiles between passionate breaths—smiles that speak of a shared secret, a secret known only to them. While the tale may have concluded upon the stage, it remains unbounded by it, continuing to script itself within the pages of their lives.

As the audience disperses, they stand together outside the constraints of time. With an affectionate smile, she leans closer and whispers, "This evening has been a delightful reminder of the days when our love was veiled in secrecy, my dearest."

"It has indeed been a memorable night for revisiting those moments," he responds, his eyes brimming with youthful mirth. "Though," he adds, tracing a finger along her cheek, "I must confess, my dear, as much as I cherished the art of courting you in secret, I am rather relieved to have transcended the intricacies of it."

She chuckles softly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss upon his cheek. "There is truth in that," she concedes. "Yet, there was a certain thrill in the mystery, was there not?"

He nods, a wistful smile playing upon his lips. "Indeed, the clandestine nature of our courtship rendered every stolen moment all the more precious."

Beneath the twinkling lights of the fair, casting a warm and inviting glow, they turn away from the puppet show, their intertwined fingers freed from the shadows of secrecy.

[sercezgazety]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @zyrafowe-sny, thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

21 at this point (and I’m sure glad you’re not asking about older platforms because uhhhh. My FFN era was terrifying)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

257,205. Huh.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Welp, Re-Animator, currently. But the majority of my works is a result of a powerful The Owl House obsession, and I do have another TOH fic in the making. Star Trek, though it’s really odd how little Trek fic there is on my account – I guess that’s because most of my hyperfixation went into the papers I published on the franchise.

Terra Ignota my beloved, but the books are so incredibly well-written, I get scared whenever I want to write anything about those characters. Everything I do is going to suck in comparison (and the one fic I did write indeed sucks balls). I had some flings with Sonic (kek), Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog, and before that, Phineas and Ferb. In the pre-AO3 era, The Penguins of Madagscar (a fic after which I stopped writing for almost a decade), Discworld, Kick-Ass (my first English-language fic; what a trainwreck), Invader Zim, Storm Hawks (oh boy), Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, Sherlock Holmes (the original, ACD one), Teen Titans, and some insane amounts of insanely bad, angsty Xiaolin Showdown fics with insane ships and insanely bad characterization. Look, I was 15. I’m pretty sure there was even more, and I can only be grateful that I don’t remember.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Oddly enough, Inhale, Hold, Exhale with over 1,1k, even though it was just an ultimate traumadump. Then, A Silver Platter (992), A Comparative Study in Redemption Arcs (789), The Matter at Hand (778), and The Deal (718).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! First, they make me happy and I’m grateful for them. But it’s also just a polite thing to do, and honestly? when I want to comment under a fic and I see OP doesn’t respond to comments, sometimes I shrug and decide kudos will suffice (not proud of myself for doing that, but oh well).

There were some comments I left unanswered, but those were from people I know IRL and I answered them somewhere else, or they were hate comments. Aaaand some comments I left unanswered back when I didn’t know it was possible to answer on AO3, and now answering them would be too awkward.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I write almost exclusively angst, so it’s more of a question about the specific flavor. I guess the biggest number of characters suffer miserably in a very mundane way in A Potter’s Field. In The Deal, the main character suffers in a very mundane way to such an extent, he willingly chooses to be possessed just to feel useful, so there’s that. Both stories have been bookmarked by people with notes such as “jesus fucking christ dude” or just “JESUS CHRIST,” and thus, I consider my mission accomplished and people's days ruined.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The Red Crayon. Even I couldn’t write angst about Doofenshmirtz and Perry the Platypus. Like, come on.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

YEAH BABEY. And I don’t mean the ‘I liked the fic, but there’s this thing I disagree with’ kind of comments, I mean the ‘this fic is terrible, have you ever watched the show?’ type of comments. The first time I got one like this, I was crying hysterically for two days.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not sure? This year, I did write some sex scenes or almost-sex-scenes, but the thing is, they were about everything but sex. And one of them was very, very awkward.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nnnope, and I hate those. But at one point, when I was very much into French Revolution, I had some grand plans for a Doctor Who fanfic in which Ten would meet Robespierre and realize he was a good guy.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so? I had my fanart and my photos stolen, yeah, but not fanfic.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, though there was one person who asked if they could do that (I think they lost interest/didn’t have the time).

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah, back in middle school me and my friend ran a blog nobody read, and it was about two Discworld OCs. It was horrible.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Spones (Spock/Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy). I will go down with it. I’m married to it. I’ve been happily married to it for half of my lifetime (and the entirety of my adult life).

I like other ships in other fandoms, especially the ones with a similar dynamic. Spones, though, is the archetype.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

A Star Trek fic about Spock being unable to fully process the death of his pet sehlat, and that fact influencing his approach to animals in the years to come. I’m quite happy with what I have – for instance, there are five pages of Spock and McCoy arguing over the factors that make animals cute, with Spock being super scientific and judgemental, and McCoy having a gotcha! moment when Spock says axolotls are not cute.

I started writing it when I learned about my beloved cat’s diabetis. Then he died, I had a massive depressive episode, and now it’s been almost two years and I still cry because I miss him and he deserved so much better. And perhaps I would be able to finish the fic, given that half of my fics are traumadumps anyway, but I have no idea how this thing is even supposed to end.

16. What are your writing strengths?

POV and characters not knowing things that the audience knows

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Getting to the point. Or, like, having any point.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Erm. Everything I write is in another language. English is not my native language, I never had private lessons, I still don’t understand how the tenses or the punctuation work. But in case of Luz and Camila, I do tend to use Spanish words or expressions from time to time.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Okay, so back when I was 7, I had no idea fanfic existed or that you could just use the names and locations somebody else created, so I was writing stuff that was very much the terf-created wizard boy and very much Lord of the Rings, but like. With different names. The headmaster of the magical school was named fucking Ambli Dimbli. The first fanfic that I knew that was a fanfic, though, was for Terry Pratchett’s Discworld.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

The Matter at Hand. It’s not my most popular fic, it doesn’t have my favorite TOH character in it, but it’s about politics and scapegoating, and it has puns in it. And I’m really proud of how everyone in this story sucks. I like it when characters suck.

[skeleton-brainrot]

Haiiii!!

My name's Wolfe and i'm a fag and i have several fictional partners. Mostly variations of Sans and Papyrus undertale, but also some mha characters. And 2 real boyfriends who i love and adore :3

I'm a literal dog, 4 legs fluffy tail no thumbs (very hard to type btw), and like to be referred to as such. It/its pronouns preferred, he/him also acceptable.

🔞This is an 18+ account. I'm a grown man, i hornypost about my husbands, minors should not view my posts.🔞

I'm also high 99% of the time 👍

Info about my boys and i under the cut.

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

About me!

Name: Wolfe

Age: 19

Gender: dog

Sexuality: fag

Description:

A literal dog. Some sort of coyote-looking mutt with green emo furry hair and skeleton arm-warmers, often seen in cringe stylish anime merch.

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| Stats |

| STR : • • |

| INT : • • • |

| WIS : • • |

| CHA : • • • |

| STA : • |

| EXP*: • • • • |

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(*EXP refers to relationship and life experience)

Usually okay with sharing f/os but can get possessive!

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

About my husbands!

Red

Name: Sans/Fell/Red

Character: UnderFell! Sans

Source: Undertale AU / Underfell

Age: 34-ish

Gender: a guy

Sexuality: bi

Description:

Short red and handsome, my beloved Fell Sans. Featuring the gorgeous red turtleneck + gold spiked red leather collar + big puffy black coat with fur rimmed hood + oversized basketball shorts + red hightop converse look and other on-brand outfits featured in my imagination, a cracked skull, red eyelights, singular golden tooth, the classic. A chainsmoker with an affinity for mustard and a love-hate incestually-toned relationship with his brother, his outward appearance and first impression can be that of a depressed passive-aggressive bastard whose main sense of comedy is self deprecating jokes; but once you get to know him you find his dumb idiot soft side. And the trauma. All the trauma. Surprisingly good for cuddles despite being bones, ecto is fun ;3

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| Stats |

| STR : • • • • • |

| INT : • • • • |

| WIS : • • • |

| CHA : • • |

| EXP*: • • • |

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(*EXP refers to relationship and life experience)

KATSUKI

Name: Katsuki

Character: Katsuki Bakugo

Source: My Hero Academia

Age: 17

Gender: A Man

Sexuality: gay

Looks:

Everyone's favourite fluffy angry blonde, the man the myth the legend, Katsuki Bakugo himself! Fluffy pale blonde hair, piercing red eyes, killer bod and beautiful smile, my favourite prettyboy. Harsh temperament, short fuse, full of spark, explosive personality. Often spotted in his school uniform and more casual looks such as my favourite black tanktop grey sweats combo. Late nights spent cuddling under blankets with good movies and better snacks are the best with him <3

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| Stats |

| STR : • • • • |

| INT : • • • • |

| WIS : • • |

| CHA : • • |

| EXP*: • • |

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(*EXP refers to relationship and life experience)

Swap

Name: Papyrus/Swap/Stretch/Honey

Age: 28

Gender: just a lil guy

Sexuality: *shrugs*

Looks:

Tall, lazy, always stoned, and with a horrible fashion sense, my dear comedian husband. My beloved, often seen in his baggy orange hoodie and various colours of cargo shorts ranging from a dark-ish beige to navy green, can also be spotted in t-shirts. Still with cargo shorts. They're all he ever wears. Always able to make me laugh and bound to light up any room he's in, and the world's best sesh buddy. We bake brownies together.

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| Stats |

| STR : • • • • • |

| INT : • • • • |

| WIS : • • • |

| CHA : • • • |

| EXP*: • • • •

—————————

(*EXP refers to relationship and life experience)

Lesser partners: swapfell papyrus, fell papyrus, classic sans, dabi, shinso, shigiraki, hawks