#that was her darkest hour lmao

[a-dose-of-memphis]

the fact that they're both either miserable and dead in most AUs they're in is funny lmaoo

them.

[imaginarianisms]

1 day i will make a meta of sansa's dynamic with her metaphorical champions/suitors & how that correlates to the ashford theory (i.e sansa being betrothed to joffrey baratheon, then promised to willas tyrell, then being married to tyrion lannister, then being married to harry hardying then married to aegon vi targaryen & aurane velaryon but it is not this day. lmao. when i make that meta it'll be so over for y'all.

[snowddeong]

Holding my breath lest the word "daddy" spill forth from my mouth in ragged gasps

The buttons open like that. Okay. Alright. Cool. I'm fine. Totally feeling so normal rn

[crescenthistory]

May I request C6 with Regulus? I’m in some desperate need of Reggie comforting reader 😭😭😭

there are sosososo many different ways to interpret this prompt, and somehow i chose? perhaps the darkest one? so sorry, you are really going to need that comforting now... thanks for requesting lmao xx

Prompt: C.6 "I don't know, it just happened"

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, blood racism, internalised blood racism, hate crime/minor assault, emotional breakdown, mutual self-hatred, regulus has not left the black family, alluded black brothers drama, undecided side regulus, perhaps a bit cliche/romanticising, established relationship, your dad is dead (long ago, mentioned), heavy hurt/comfort, happy ending

Notes: lol i am not okay

It was a rare occurrence that Regulus Black felt light these days, in any meaning of the word. 

His feet felt shackled as he trekked through the Hogwarts halls he felt were increasingly unwelcoming to him. His consciousness weighed him down like a thousand bricks as he knew he had to either take a stance against his parents or become complacent in a hope of survival. He knew he had to do the former; he had no idea how to stop himself from the latter. Trapped, cornered, cowardly – heavy.

Yet, when walking the final few metres to your dormitory that he knew housed your soft self now that you were done with tutoring first years, he felt undeservingly light. A sensation only you could inspire in him these days.

While conversations were growing tenser and tenser between you the more Regulus struggled with freeing himself from his family, your love for him had yet to falter. He knew he was only biding his time, but until then he could not help revelling in it, albeit guilt ridden. 

He does not knock before entering, just carefully pushes the ajar door further open. You had told him off for knocking so primly every time – “you’re always welcome here, Reggie” – and he wanted nothing more than to please you.

“Amour?” he called out as he closed the door softly behind him, looking around the dorm for a trace of you, or at least one of your dorm mates.

None to be found.

He dropped his bookbag by the end of your bed, reaching up to scratch the back of his head as he looked around. Some of that heaviness began returning to his limbs at your absence, his hope of slipping away from the world with you for the next few hours dissolving.

Then, he heard the water running from the adjunct bathroom. A sigh of relief escaped him, though his body remained tense, and he made his way over. He could hear the water splashing from the sink and he carefully knocked on the door with one knuckle.

“Amour?” he tried again.

This time he technically got a response of sorts, though nowhere near the one he had been hoping for. All movement behind the door stilled. The water was still running in a steady stream, but whatever you had been doing with it, you had stopped. Regulus could almost picture you standing like a deer in headlights – his brows furrowed unhappily at the thought.

“Are you alright, love?” 

Finally, your voice answered, but the fragility of it rattled him. “Oh, um, hi Reggie, I– I’m alright, be with you in a minute, yeah?”

You seemed distressed. Regulus did not care for it at all.

“Could I come in, amour?” He spoke to the door as if it was not there, as if he was looking you in the eyes, willing you to let him in.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you murmured, but he just barely caught it through the wood.

Regulus seemed to have met a divulge where he had to make a choice – a relatively minor one, but it felt important nonetheless.

A large, painful part of his mind was screaming at him to leave you alone. She doesn’t want you, she’s finally seen you for what you are. Scum staining the story of her life. It is this voice that rules most of his actions, the voice keeping him and Sirius apart, the voice tying him to something he does not feel comfortable with. 

Then there is another, burning hot part that aches to reach for you. The part that knows you better than the first thinks he deserves, the part that can tell by the tone of your voice, by a jerk of your finger, exactly how you are feeling and, hopefully, what you need. This part is one Regulus takes a great deal of pride in, this part feels good. Though it scares him and the first part tries to quell it, he holds it near his heart.

And it is this part that opens his mouth and says, “Could I come in anyway?”

A minute. A hesitation. A sigh.

“Yes,” you whispered.

His hand is tentative as it grips the doorhandle to the bathroom, as if it has become a part of your body from him talking to it, deserving of that same care he attempts to show you. He twists it and pushes it open.

The bathroom is swept in darkness – a conscious choice on your part, seeing as you would have to magically blow out the candles that lined the walls. He could still see you, leaning against the counter with the sink, face turned slightly away from him.

“Hi, my love,” you greeted, trying to seem casual as if he had just walked into your dorm under usual circumstances. With your hand awkwardly angled so that he only saw the inside of your palm, you adjusted the faucet. “How was practise?”

Regulus ignored your small-talk, walking up to stand beside you, body angled fully towards you as you began scrubbing at your hands once more. With the light trickling in through the open door, he swore the water looked pinkish. His breath hitched, eyes flickering all over you and the room to make sense of whatever was happening.

“Amour, what’s wrong?” His voice was rawer than he was comfortable with.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” You were getting a hang of the bright and airy tone of voice you were going for, but it was too late for that. “Just a long day, you know? Do you want to go get the bed ready so we can relax?”

The voices were warring in Regulus’ head at the rejection of his presence, but once more the part he could only describe as lovesick took a step closer to you, so your bodies were just barely touching. “Y/N,” was all he said.

Your ministrations grew more desperate, scrubbing water up and down your hands and forearms, breath laboured. He lifted a hand to brush against your face – when you flinched, his heart broke. 

She’s scared of you.

No, she’s just scared.

He let his hand ever so slowly land on the cheek furthest away from him, cradling your jaw with the kind of light touch reserved for baby birds and broken children. He found the skin there soft and wet, and he swore he could cut himself on the shards of his broken heart.

He guided your head to turn towards him, his grip loose so that you could stop him if you wanted. Once your face was opposite his, Regulus fought every instinct in his body that told him to study you, search your face for the spawn of your pain. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against yours. Giving you space, privacy even, giving you the moment you clearly needed – but sparing you from doing it alone

Your hands slowed down in their scrubbing, and with his free hand reaching out blindly, he turned off the faucet. Your breath stuttered where it spilled over his lips.

“Do you reckon you want to sit down? Talk about it?” Regulus whispered, eyes still closed.

He felt you nod against his skin, grabbing a hand towel as you walked backwards the few steps needed before you could sit down on the toilet lid. Regulus followed you, eyes opening and attempting to adjust to this darker corner of the bathroom. He sat down on his knees between your legs, painful tiles be damned, and looked up at you intently. 

In front of him sat the light of his life, visibly sullied. Your face was red and he could make out the tear tracks and smudged mascara underneath your eyes. You clutched the towel, hands buried within it and out of sight.

“Amour,” he whispered dumbly, unsure of what else to say, as he carefully brought his hands up to wipe at your tears. 

You mumbled his name and it almost sounded like a sob. 

Your hands were writhing in your lap around the towel, and he reached down to take it and help you dry yourself when you jerked your hands closer to you, towel still in grasp. “No,” you whispered.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you lied through your teeth. “I’ve just had a bad day and– and felt anxious. Couldn't help but cry over it. I don’t know, it just happened.” 

Regulus gave you a sad smile, squeezing the still-wet skin on your forearms. “Uh-huh. And you felt like taking it out on your hands?”

A sob finally tore through your body properly and you brought your hands up – still in the towel – to cover your face. You leaned forward and cried into it, and Regulus immediately opened his arms to hold your shaking frame. Your towel and face were smushed into the crook of his neck and he drew big circles on your back with one hand, the other securely holding the back of your head. 

He was broken, at a loss for words, trying to recall any and every memory he could find of witnessing others comforting, not trusting his own instincts. Through them all, out flashed a memory of Sirius humming to him when he had nightmares as a child, how the vibrations soothed through him until he could finally fall asleep again, in his big brother’s bed this time. Without any distinct melody or song in mind, Regulus began to hum as he swayed you just ever so slightly back and forth, hoping to bring you some semblance of safety.

Your gasps lessened until the bathroom was near-quiet again, but he did not stop his movements with you or the humming. Your heart blossomed from his efforts and broke at what you knew was to come.

You lowered your hands from your face, letting them fall into your lap with their towel. Your face was now in direct contact with the soft skin of his neck and you took the opportunity to press a soft kiss there.

“Can I please do something to help you?” he whispered into your hair.

“You are.”

He breathed in slowly. He is. “With your hands, I mean. Are you hurt?”

Tears slipped quietly down the expanse of Regulus’ neck, trailing down underneath his shirt. You tried to nuzzle deeper into him.

“I–” you stop, seemingly changing your mind. “I’m alright, I just need to… to remove magical ink from them and I can’t get it off.”

Regulus fought back the that’s all? that was creeping up his throat. He knows at least two spells that work for most permanent inks and can brew a potion for it within the hour if those don't work. 

Your head squeezed against his shoulder as he nodded his head, still stroking your back. “No problem, beautiful, I can fix that.”

“No,” you whispered once more, seeming to shrink in his grasp. “I have to.”

He helped ease you out from his neck so that you were face to face once more, his hands coming up to brush over the sides of your arms. The look in your eyes was one he struggled to decipher, apart from the shine of anxiety. 

“Why do you have to? Let me help you, amour.”

You took another shuddering breath, brazing yourself for impact. “You can’t see,” you whispered finally, fighting the quiver of your lips.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“You can’t see them, Reg, I’m sorry.”

“Did someone do something to you?” It was the only explanation he could conjure up for why any permanent ink would make you this distraught – and why you would hide from him like this.

You searched his face carefully, faintly nodding in a way that made him think it was a response to your own thoughts and not his question. Like you decided on something. 

“Someone wrote something. I just want it gone.”

Regulus’ stomach churned. He regretted the harsh tone of his voice as he demanded, “Who?”

“It’s not important.” 

“It is to me. Please. Who?”

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth, gnawing at it as you realised he would find out. Someone would tell him, even if you refused to show him. He would know. You tasted blood in your mouth.

With his eyes adjusted to the dark, Regulus saw the faint red on your lips as well and immediately reached out to gently pull your lip free from its torment. His fingertips lingered on your lips until he replaced them with his own with a short, tentative kiss. If you were to have blood in your mouth, he would too.

Lips still against yours he whispered again, more pleadingly this time, “Who?”

You let your walls crumble. This sweet, caring boy was in your grasp for now and you could not help but let him care while he still wanted to. “Mulciber,” you whispered back.

Regulus pulled back enough to meet your gaze, confusion filling his. “Why Mulciber? What would he have to write on you?” 

Up until now he had half-thought that some of your first year tutees had pranked you in some ungraceful manner. He was certain he had never seen you and Mulciber even talk before, let alone have an altercation that could involve magical ink. He was one of the more brutal Slytherins, but he had never had any reason to talk to you, and he knew that you were someone Regulus cared for. What he had hoped would let him in on your pain only confused him further away from any answer.

“Regulus, please,” you begged, ignorant to his confusion. Tears were once more filling your eyes and he wished for nothing but to stop them.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered, hoping to convince your tears to stay where they are. “You– you don’t have to explain it, love. I can just remove it for you.”

“Could you teach me instead?” Your lip was back between your teeth, lightening in colour underneath the force it was exerted to.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to remove something from your hands yourself, you need them for the spell.” Regulus hoped his gaze seemed sympathetic.

You squeezed your eyes shut, moving your head slightly to your side. Regulus recognised your breathing pattern to follow a technique you had taught him to calm down the first time he had a panic attack around you. Afterwards, you didn't mention it, only giving him space to talk about what he was comfortable with, comfort at the ready.

His own breath was bated as he watched you make your decision. A definite tear slid down the cheek closest to him, in a hauntingly cinematic manner. At last, your eyes slowly fluttered open and you looked back into his eyes with the most devastating expression. Slipping a hand slowly out from your towel – out of Regulus’ line of sight – you brought it up to his cheek to bring his face closer to yours.

The kiss was searing, filled with a love and devotion he was not prepared for in a situation like this. He was enveloped by the smell of you, and though you still tasted of copper, your lips were painfully soft and he let himself fall deeper into you. When you pulled away, you pressed a lingering kiss to the side of his mouth.

“I love you,” you whispered. Regulus hated how it sounded like you were saying goodbye. 

His brows were furrowed as he looked at you, and he hoped it looked like confusion and nothing more sinister. “I love you too, amour. You know.”

“I’ll let you remove it, if you want.”

“Please.”

Your gaze fell to your lap and remained there as you let both hands out of the towel, placing them palm-down on your thighs. Regulus had begun reaching for his wand in a holster on his belt, ready to rid you of the source of your discontent, but he was frozen still when his own eyes finally took in your hands and the two bold, dark words written on each one.

MUD on the left. BLOOD on the right.

Mudblood. 

Regulus’ blood had run cold in his veins and he found himself having to adopt your breathing technique. His vision blurred as the two words seemed to grow larger, which seemed impossible considering they were written to take up as much space as possible. The handwriting was shaky, as if there had been a struggle when they were written. There were some light bruises already forming around your wrists and upper arms that further proved his fear. Mudblood. With red streaks over both works, likely from how hard you had been trying to wash them, all but scraping them off. Mudblood. The word was choking him. His hand that had remained still midair by his belt began to tremble.

He was knocked out of his trance as he saw a single tear splatter across the lettering on your right hand. 

Regulus moved his gaze back up to yours to find it was still trained on your hands, eyes glossy and unseeing.

“I–” he tried, but his voice broke off. “I don't understand. Y/N, I don’t understand.”

You seemed to flinch a little at the sound of your name, but other than that you made no sign that you heard him.

“Amour,” he rectified. “Why would… what is this?”

You moved your right hand over your left, starting to scratch at the word scribbled there, nails digging deep. Regulus’ hands flew up to stop your ministrations at the sight of the worsening redness, but your whole body physically flinched away from him in a way he was sure must hurt.

Regulus was lost.

“I don’t understand. Why would Mulciber write that? You’re not a–” He cut himself off, scared of what word would slip off his tongue. “You��re not muggleborn.”

Finally, you looked up and met his eyes. Your fearful, heartbroken expression seemed to soften at the sight of him and you gave him the saddest smile that did not reach your eyes. “I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper.

Realisation dawned on him. 

“Your father…?” 

His half-blood best friend turned lover, who he already had not dared tell his parents about, living with her muggle mother after her wizard father passed away. It was a convenient story in times of tension and division. Death is an easy excuse, hard to verify.

Although, clearly, someone had now, and the truth had come out.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered once more through a sob. Your shoulders were hunched and knees drawn close to your body. You looked like you wanted to disappear. 

It took him a greater amount of strength than he was proud of to push the shock and confusion from the forefront of his mind and pull back up the memories of how to comfort. To focus on those and not the million of questions running through his head.

What does this mean? Why didn't you tell him? Have you been hiding from everyone, or just him? How have you been carrying something so scary and he was none the wiser? Is there an award for shittest boyfriend at Hogwarts that he can be looking forward to?

Regulus reached out for you and pulled you slowly into another hug, arms circling securely around your back. Your body stilled in his grasp, apart from the small heaves for air in between your sobs.

“What are you doing?” Your whisper was muffled into his shirt. Your frail voice and tense limbs cut him deeper than any spell could.

“I'm comforting you, sweet girl,” he mumbled into your hair. “Or at least trying to.”

“Why?” you asked miserably. 

Regulus pulled back just far enough to see your face, making sure his arms were still holding you with love, drawing patterns across your back.

"Because I love you," he whispered intently. His eyes tried his hardest to lock on yours, but you still would not meet his gaze. "Because there is nothing to be sorry for."

Your expression grew incredulous, bordering on angry – if it was with him, yourself or the world he was uncertain. "I've lied to you. I've deceived you into a relationship you wouldn’t have agreed to had you known, I– I’ve put you in an impossible position–” You had to cut yourself off as another sob tore through your body. “I’m so sorry.”

Regulus shuffled impossibly closer to you and brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, thumbs stroking slowly across your cheekbones. He felt his own eyes fill with tears at the sight in front of him, anxiety rising at his chest as he struggled to find the words he knew the situation called for.

This was all unknown territory for Regulus. The two of you had had as few conversations about blood status as possible, both weary about the growing tension at school and in the wider wizarding society. You had held him the one time he dared cry in front of you over a particularly harsh letter from his mother. You had whispered sweet nothings about you're not them and I will always love you, but he thought they were just that – nothings. In turn, you had mentioned your parents and cried over your father a handful of times, but never divulged too much. He had weaved his way through comments from other pureblood students at school regarding his relationship with a half-blood, but most pureblood families have lapses with a half-blood here or there that he could usually throw back in their faces to silence them. No one dared push it further than that. When Andromeda left the family for Ted, he almost had to confront it all, confront what he now knew to be lies that had been spewed to him all his life, but even then, he managed to avoid it as he instead received the beating of his life for not alerting the family about the signs he must have seen at school. He let himself simmer with that pain instead of looking inwards, instead of seeking help. He figured he didn’t have to, not just yet.

That time had evidently passed, as he now held a sobbing and defiled sun in his hands.

No, this was uncharted territory for him entirely – but he could not afford to let it stay like that.

“My love, Y/N,” he said with a surprisingly steady voice, never letting his gaze stray from you. “Please, please listen to me. Please hear me. You are everything; it is you, you are everything. You could be muggleborn, muggle, werewolf, siren or fae. It would not change anything.”

Your eyes met his, red rimmed and glossy, confused and bewildered. This time it was your turn to whisper, “I don’t understand.”

“It is difficult–” Regulus’ voice broke as the first few tears slipped down his face. “It is all so difficult right now, I feel lost and… scared and I don’t know what to do.” The words almost clogged in his throat, like barbed wire to admit, but he knew he had to. “I should have told you all of that already, I should have shared with you so you could feel safe to share with me. I haven’t known what to do, how to do it. The one thing I do know is that I love you and I need you to be safe and I need you to be here with me. I have not been deceived, for I would always choose you.”

Your eyes were wide, but you were not crying at the moment, gaze flitting all across his face, as if to ensure he wasn’t lying, hanging onto his every word. It was the motivation he needed to continue.

“You are not allowed to be sorry, amour, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” A small sob escaped him and his heart flipped when your right hand came forth to just barely touch his shoulder. “I should have been here for you, you shouldn’t have to hide. You should never have had to question my love for you, my loyalty. It will always lay with you, I swear it. Gods–” a heaved breath “– I’m terrible at this, you know I’m terrible, but I’ve been trying so hard for you and I will continue to. Just please let me. Let me and I will try.”

“Regulus…” you whispered, hand creeping from the brush against his shoulder to settle on the side of his neck. 

He looked at you, ready to take any reaction you would give him, to tell him off for his horrible apology, for making things about him, for not being enough. Your mouth opened and closed as if you couldn’t settle on the words. Instead you let out a small breath and pulled him back into you in a tight embrace.

It took him not even a second to hold you in return with passion, hands appraising as they swept up into your hair and around your waist. 

“Do you mean it?” you whimpered into him and he let his forehead fall to your shoulder as he cried.

“Of course, I mean it. Of course, of course.” He kept muttering it into you as he held you tighter and tighter.

His body was filled with an entirely new set of fear. A warm one that spread through his blood at the thought of what you had to face. Mulciber already knew and had taken action on that knowledge seemingly without hesitation. Regulus had heard what was being said amongst the Sacred 28, he knew to what degrees the hatred was building. His entire body was built on fear as he held what he now realised could be disturbingly fragile.

That is, until you whimpered another question into his hold and his body ached with a love so deep he had never thought it possible.

“Do you still love me?”

He had already said so, but he would happily say it again, over and over, damning himself for allowing you to wonder. “Yes, amour, always. Always.” 

Regulus took your face in one of his hands again, cradling you as he brought his forehead back to yours. Angling his face forward, he pressed what he hoped was a sweet kiss to your lips. It was wet, metallic and everything he needed. 

“I’m sorry for lying,” you whispered. He shook his head against yours.

“No, I’m sorry for stalling.”

A beat of silence. “Stalling what?” He thought you knew, but he tried to have no qualms about being explicit about it.

“Leaving.” He said it simply, hoping it would will it to be.

This time it was your turn to shake your head. “Can you leave, though? Safely? They’re becoming more and more fanatical, Reg, what if they hurt you? I’ve seen the letters.”

The fact that you have experienced what can only be classified as a hate crime, yet you have the goodness in your heart to worry about him in this way only makes him more certain of his choice.

“I have to, my love. I have to. It’s time.” He took a deep breath. “I will… I will ask Sirius for help.” 

You looked into his eyes, vision blurry from your proximity. “I’m scared for you, but I’m so proud of you at the same time.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual.” Regulus tried to huff out a small laugh, but it just came out teary. “Will you please come with me?”

“To Sirius?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

His hand on your squeeze pressed further into you, reverent. “We can ask for help for us both. They practically wanted Ted dead when they disowned Andromeda, and she was not even the sole heir. I’m so sorry for putting you in that situation, I–”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you assured, voice more stable and beautifully soft. “You are everything to me too, you know.”

“I’m scared,” Regulus whimpered. It’s the first time he can remember saying that out loud to someone since he was 6.

“I’m scared, too. But less so, now that I know I still have you. I couldn’t handle losing you, Reg.” Your eyes teared up again and he leaned up to kiss the corners of your eyes sweetly, collecting the tears before they had a chance to spill.

“You have me, you have me,” he whispered almost feverishly against your skin. “And I’ve got you.”

You sighed, the closest to contently you think you can get at this moment. “Will you please help me?” you whispered as you looked down at your hands.

Regulus shook himself out of his mini spiral, shook off that first voice in his head that reared its head once more and over and over, shook off anything that was not you. He mumbled an of course against your cheek before he kissed it, taking your hands in one of his. 

Unsheathing his wand he never managed to retrieve the first time around, he took one last look at the ugly markings on your hands – the hate was precisely that, ugly, and it had no place on your skin. Starting with the left – MUD – he tried the first spell he knew, and it did nothing. The bile rose in his throat as he went to try the next, fearing the worst, but by the grace of a nonexistent god, the letters finally melted away. He repeated the process on the other one.

You tried to pull your hands out of his grasp at that, but his hold tightened. He healed the viscous red streaks and peeling skin from where you had scratched at them, a cold sensation soothing over your skin as he moved his wand. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the gentleness, but you found yourself beginning to become completely dehydrated.

Regulus brought your hands up to his lips while he put his wand away to grasp at them with both hands. He kissed the spots he had just cleared up. Long, lingering kisses in the middle of your hand, followed by soft butterfly kisses all over it. His fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing tightly, giving the flesh new sensations to remember instead.

“You’re so good to me,” you whispered, almost like a revelation. You had loved him and you had trusted him, you had just not trusted that it would be forever, that it would be more than any loyalty to his family. You were ashamed at the thought now, as you looked at the boy on his knees in front of you, crying from loving you, kissing away your pain. It filled you with something you had not believed this day would hold for you – hope.

“I’m not,” he whispered, letting your hands settle together in your lap. “But I hope to be. I want to be. I will be.”

You smiled wetly at him and leaned forward to kiss him once more. Originally intended as a peck, the kiss grew deeper, a slow passion as you held his lips between yours, feeling the love seep through the thin skin. He continued pressing kisses all over your face, much like your hands. Any teary or red skin had his lips faintly brushing over it, taking his time to dote on you. You let your breath calm down in the meantime, panic and tension slipping away from you to be replaced by a deep exhaustion as you leaned into him.

He noticed – he had to notice, swore he always would from now on.

“Are you ready to lay down in bed, amour. Face the light?” He smiled sheepishly at the poor attempt at a joke. You seemed surprised as you looked around, almost like you had forgotten you were in a shadowy dorm bathroom.

“Only if you will lay with me.” Your tone was nearing teasing, though not quite there. He was determined to achieve it within the hour.

“I promise,” he whispered, kissing you one last time before helping you up.

And he would go on to help you to bed and hold you tight for as long as you would let him. He would listen to you cry and laugh and worry without a second thought. He would take you with him to ask Sirius for help on escaping and keeping you safe and he would devote himself to being better. He would do anything for you – because you were, after all, everything.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 5 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

in which I FINALLY get to episode 5 Darkest Hour/Wake Thy Power

oh wow this is legit the first time I see the Salem Seven's face makeup, a world is revealed every time I brighten a scene.

jen with her leaf mask. sweet baby alice with her hands tucked between her knees

rio just squatting there watching everybody else sleep. agatha nowhere to be found, because after what happened with rio she had to be dramatic and sleep on her lonesome

doesn't rio just like to torment lilia? just a little bit? keep her on her toes for shit and giggles? she would not be above sneaking behind her at night and going boo! in her ear

rio: I'm so fucking angry at agatha.

also rio: okay she might have killed the whole salem coven but her mother was a humongous piece of shit so let's jot that down real quick. just so we are all on the same page

jen: look here girl I'm not being dragged in the agatha harkness defense squad just because you two smashed

alice is STILL the only adult in the room

agatha always had a soft spot for children

lmao she was absolutely listening from behind a tree trunk, waiting for the perfect moment to make her clown entrance

kathryn hahn was given a swooshy coat and by god she's gonna make it swoosh every chance she gets

I love shots where they're all together because that's some excellent costumes and character designs. look at all the silhouettes silhouetting.

rio is ready to cut a bitch. "but rio you're the natural order of things you're not supposed to intervene and harm-" AGATHA IS IN DANGER. NEXT QUESTION

everybody being like no ew we're not using brooms!! meanwhile rio is going AW YASS BROOMSTICKS

lilia I adore you but also time and place, time and place

agatha making a pretty leafy broom for rio

rio making a cool butchy broom for agatha

"pro te delecta aperio via" for you my beloved I open the way???? WHO IS COMING UP WITH THESE SPELLS I JUST WANT TO TALK

lilia is pissed because she put lil flowers on jen's broom! why didn't SHE get flowers too, jen???

tfw you just had a fight with your ex so you have no choice but to look at them wistfully from behind a broomstick

selflessness? the iRONY

they brush hands and she SNAPS it away. clown behavior! clown!!!!!

LET'S GO LESBIANS LET'S GOOO

awwwww alice made a broom for billy and she's being shy about it

no transformation from actual owl to owl makeup because we're running on vibes and zero cgi budget

alice has a big stick!!! alice SMASH!!!!!!

aubrey skipping along pretending to fly lmaoooo

look at the athletic gesture

this is so grainy, they really had no budget. only a lot of heart.

and I just covered a whole 5 minutes of show. I'll never see the end of this

go to episode 5 part 2

[girlofthesunxoxo]

porn star dancing | james wilson

synopsis: y/n is a neuro-oncologist in wilson’s department and whenever she gets out of work, she works at a strip club. tonight is masquerade night which works in her favor when she sees her boss and his friend.

note: i have no medical knowledge or dancing knowledge so im flying blind here 😭 so if anything seems a little off, its because of that LMAO. also y/n is in her mid to late twenties while james is in his mid to late thirties.

y/n was just finishing up with a patient, making sure they were feeling fine after their surgery when she got a call from her friend, sheila. she excused herself from the room and went into a random hallway.

“oh hey, sheila ! whats up ?”

“hey, y/n ! im sorry to ask but can you take over my shift today ? my mom has come down with a really bad cold and i have to take care of her.” her apologetic tone evident in her voice.

“oooh um yeah im already finishing up here so i’ll be on my way over there in about thirty minutes !”

“oh my gosh, thank you thank you thank yoooou. i owe you big time !”

y/n lightly chuckled, “okay okay, ill call you later ! i need to talk to my boss really quickly.”

“okay bye !! also in case you forgot, tonight’s theme is masquerade.”

“yes yes, i remember the theme, i think i saw my costume there a few days ago. okay we’ll talk later, bye bye !”

she hung up before making her way towards her dr. wilson’s office. she knocked on the door and went inside after hearing a quiet, “come in.” she stood in front of his desk with her hands clasped in front of her, nervous about what she was about to ask.

“hello dr. l/n, what do you need ?” he asked with a polite smile on his face.

“hi dr. wilson, um i was wondering if i could leave a bit early today, i am already finished with our brain surgery patient and i think i have all my clinic hours done for this week !” she nervously rambled which james took notice to.

he quietly laughed and shook his head, “yes you can but if i may ask, what is the reason you need to leave early for ? you never leave early. are you feeling okay ?” his casual expression slightly changing to a more concerned look.

“oh no im feeling alright !” she knew she couldnt tell him the truth. how many people have gone to their very attractive boss and told them they couldnt work because they had to go to their second job which is a strip club. not a lot, she assumed.

“i just have to babysit m-my sister’s kids, shes not feeling the best !” her lie came out with little struggle.

“oh well i hope she is feeling better soon but yes you can go for the rest of the night.”

���okay thank you so much, dr. wilson !”

she quickly turned and walked out of the room with fast beating heart and blushed cheeks. there were times she hated how she had a slight crush on her boss. this was one of those times and it didnt help that his friend, dr. house was standing outside his door staring at her with a smirk. she tried to move past him but he put his cane in front of her stomach which stopped her movements.

“what do you need, dr. house ?” she tried to ask politely but she was in a little of a rush.

“yeah, why are you coming out of wilson’s office looking like you just finished riding him into oblivion ? oh im sure you would like that, right ?” his words made her blush as the thought of her on top of james has been a recurring dream of hers.

“u-um well im - im sorry, im in a r-rush to be-“ she was interrupted by the door opening and james’s annoyed voice filling her ears.

“house ! let her leave, please.” he rolled his eyes while shoving his cane away from y/n’s stomach. she smiled thankfully while rushing to the front doors to leave seeing as she had a few minutes before her shift started. as she was leaving, she heard dr. house’s fading words, “you know she has a-“ she didnt know what else he was going to say.

she drove to the club and quickly greeted all the other dancers while getting into her clothes which was black fishnets with very short red shorts that looked like underwear with little sparkly fringe that flowed every time she moved and a matching bra with the same fringe. (think of the girls from “but its better if you do” music video 😉).

she picked up some random black high heels that were covered in black glitter and she heard the crowd cheering as it was almost time for the dancers to come out .

she hurriedly did her makeup which was just more eyeliner and eyeshadow than she used for her day job.

sheila let her know on the drive that she was going to be in the spotlight which meant she could pick the song and be right in the center of the stage.

y/n was very anxious, she had only been in the center stage maybe two times despite being told by everyone that she was awesome but having that many eyes on her was very nervewrecking. that says a lot considering she literally works as a doctor and has to perform surgeries sometimes.

she picked the song “porn star dancing” considering she practiced at home days prior, just in case somebody needed her to take on their shift.

the microphone crackled before a loud voice came on, “lets give a biiiig round of applause for our dancers !” two girls gave y/n a “goodluck” before heading out to their poles which were on either side of the center pole.

“and let us let our main dancer for the night know how much we looove her, welcome to the stage, mrs. vibraaaant vixen !”

y/n quickly put on her red, glittering mask with tall feathers which only covered her eyes. she let out a big breath to calm her nerves and strutted out the curtain, the song she chose began playing in the background.

kelly wont kiss my friend kassandra

jessica wont play ball

y/n slowly strutted to the pole and grabbed it with one hand as she circled it making sure to sway her hips.

mandy wont share her friend, miranda

doesnt anybody live at all

amanda wont leave me empty handed

got her number from a bathroom stall

she squatted behind the pole before slowly getting up with her ass up first and slowly moving her body up. the cheers made her feel confident and her nervousness slowly went away.

brandy just got way too much baggage

and that shit just gets old (hey)

she rolled her hips in a circle while her hands wandered up her body then behind her neck to flip her hair to the side.

but i got a girl who can put on a show

the dollar decides how far you can go with her

she wraps those hands around that pole

her movements followed the lyrics as she wrapped her hands around the pole then crouched down while rolling her hips to every beat.

she licks those lips and off we go

she takes it off nice and slow cause thats porn star dancing (hey)

she slowly pick herself up with the pole and pushing her chest flush against it before she circled it and stopped right in front of it, giving the audience a full view of her ass. she turned around and started looking at the crowd while she circled her hips.

she dont play nice, she makes me beg

and she drops that dress around her legs

and im sitting right by the stage for this porn star dancing

as she looked over the crowd of men and the occasional woman, she spotted one familiar face and her heart almost stopped. it was her boss, dr. james wilson. at her strip club. with dr. house who was grinning as if he won the lottery. they were both cheering before dr. house muttered something in james’s ear before he turned wide eyed towards her on the pole.

she quickly circled the pole and stopped behind it keeping her head down slightly, her hands roaming her body and rolling her hips as she turned around, her ass on display as she crouched while rolling her hips. she felt mortified knowing her boss was more than likely watching her ass.

your body’s lighting up the room

now i want a naughty girl like you

theres nothing hotter than that

she turned around on her knees and flipped her hair to the side, her eyes catching james’s eyes. he mouthed “y/n ?!” she averted her eyes as she got up, ass first.

stacy’s gonna save herself for marriage but thats just not my style

shes got a pair thats nice to stare at

but i want girls gone wild (hey)

groping her boobs (😭) at that one lyric, she felt her body go hot, the thought finally registered that her boss/little crush was seeing her half naked body while she should be helping people. shame gnawed at her as she kept her head slightly down.

but i know a place where theres always a show

the dollar decides how far you can go with her

she wraps those hands around that pole

she picked herself up onto the pole and swung herself around it a few times. the cheers got even louder and people tossed some dollars on the stage.

she licks those lips and off we go

she takes it off nice and slow cause thats porn star dancing (hey)

she dont play nice, she makes me beg

she drops that dress around her legs

the pole and the swinging was making her muscles ache but she kept on going. her back flushed against the front of the pole, she picked herself up until her legs wrapped around the pole and her upper body was spinning around. she took her hands off the pole, waved and blew kisses at the crowd which caused them to cheer harder.

she could see james clapping with his mouth open and smiling while house was cheering louder than anybody there, she smiled at the sight.

and im sitting right by the stage for this porn star dancing (hey)

your body’s lighting up the room

i want a naughty girl like you

lets throw a party just for two

you know those normal girls wont do

as she slowly descended down the pole, she put her hands on the floor and unwrapped her legs from it so she can kick her legs away and landed upright like a half cartwheel.

the part of the song where no lyrics are on is her favorite because she can do some random dance on the pole and the crowd will go wild. she swings herself on the pole, holding it with her ankles before climbing and wrapping her inner leg/knee around the pole while her other leg is standing on the pole. still spinning, she straightens her leg so it is poking outwards.

then she bends both legs, one on the outside of the pole and one inside holding her and takes her hands off to let go of the pole so she can clasp them behind her while spinning so shes spinning sideways.

she can hear people cheering and whooping and some just plain yelling.

she wraps those hands around that pole

she licks those lips and off we go

and she takes it off nice and slow

cause thats porn star dancing (hey)

as the spinning slows down, she grabbed the pole and unwrapped her legs while positioning herself upright again. now that shes upright, she tries to gauge everyone’s reactions, some of the dancers not performing were clapping and yelling as were a lot of the men. some had their mouths slightly open and others were just cheering.

but only one had her interested, james had a full blush on his cheeks and he stood there in disbelief while house tapped his shoulder to telling him that shes looking at him. he waves and she let one hand let go to wave back.

she dont play nice, she makes me beg

she drops that dress around her legs

and im sitting right by the stage

for this porn star dancing (hey)

she hopped down from the pole and rolled her hips like she did when the song first started. she was completely out of breath while her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. her muscles ached when she walked back towards the curtain but not before turning around and looking james straight in the eye and blew a kiss while the crowd started cheering and whooping.

she passed the curtains and let out a deep breath. her whole body ached and she knew she would be a little sore the next day but it was worth it. seeing everybody’s expressions, especially james’s expression made the whole thing worth it.

all the girls came up to her and hugged her while telling her how much they loved the dance and how beautiful she did. all the compliments made her blush as she changed into her regular clothes which just consisted of jeans and a black long sleeve.

y/n made her way out the dressing room and managed to avoid seeing her boss and house. she still felt shame and embarrassment that her own boss, the person who signs her paychecks, saw her half naked body sensually dancing on a pole. she’s had nightmares about that. she was already half way out the front door before a cane stopped her from walking.

she only closed her eyes and sighed, “what do you need, dr. house ?”

“woah how did you know that was me ?!” his childlike glee was a little annoying to y/n, any other day she wouldve indulged in his jokes but her entire body ached and she just wanted to sleep.

“hm i dont know, maybe the fact that i saw you earli-“

he interrupted, “while you were sexy dancing and getting all the guys turned on, i swear i saw all of them with tents in their pants !” he rolled his eyes and lets out a little grunt, “ugh men.”

she sarcastically smiled, “ugh men indeed, including the one that is wasting my precious time right now.”

“what, are you taking one of those greasy little guys home ? you know im sure you’ll have a lot more fun with me.” his smirk is enough to tell her that he’s joking and he reached out to touch her arm before the front door creaked open and another hand gripped his wrist.

“house.” wilson’s slightly irritated voice cuts in.

house let out a big gasp before whipping his head around to face her, “daddy caught us ! i wonder how he’s going to punish us.”

y/n didnt let her eyes travel to james, still embarrassed by what he saw. she chuckled at house’s words before she stood on her tippy toes and leaned close to house’s face, “hm i dont think i’ll have fun with you, i actually like it when a man is below me and you seem like the type that cant handle that.” she leaned back down and pushed his cane away from her, walking back to her car while hearing james’s laugh.

she waved her hand and said, “goodnight guys, hope to see you here another day !” she heard house say “i hope so too !” she shook her head and laughed.

“wait, y/n !” james shouted while jogging towards her.

oh god, this is where she gets fired or he suspends her. she braced herself for bad news and turned to face her boss.

james had a wide smile, “y/n, you were incredible !”

she blushed and looked at her feet which were starting to hurt from standing and dancing all day.

“thank you, dr. wilson.”

“james, call me james.”

“okay well thank you, james !” she said softly.

he still had a soft smile on his face, “why didnt you tell me you worked here ?”

“i thought it wasnt appropriate, imagine telling your boss that you work at a strip club. how embarrassing ! i mean, im embarrassed right now !” she laughed.

he laughed with her, “i guess that’s true but i wouldve preferred that over finding out from house and losing twenty bucks.”

“you lost twenty bucks to house ?”

“he said that you worked at a club and i didnt believe him so we bet on it. imagine my surprise when i see my prettiest employee dancing on stage.” he rolled his eyes as he glanced at y/n, noticing her biting her lip to contain a smile and her blushed cheeks.

“well i guess i owe you twenty bucks, huh ?” she teased. his eyes creased as he chuckled and rubbed a hand over his face.

“well i wouldnt object.”

“okay how about i get us both muffins in the morning ! my treat, obviously.” she mused while tapping a finger to her chin in thought.

he grinned at her as they stopped in front of her car, “i would love that.”

“i would love to continue this conversation but i need to sleep because my body is killing me.” she tiredly groaned. he lightly smiled and waited for her to get into her car before saying goodnight and walking back to the strip club.

“also !” she yelled from her car window.

he turned around.

“tell house that i meant what i said. him and his leg wont be able to handle me on top.” she winked and rolled up her window, finally making her way home.

his eyes twinkled as he laughed, “i will keep that in mind.” he muttered with a flushed face.

[spacesodaa]

Hi there! I saw that you accept requests! So, I was thinking about Wriothesley having a special person who is basically a sunshine, who loves nature, seeing the sky, singing and basically being a darling, but who has experienced very traumatic situations. But despite this they don't lose their innocence and warm smile.

I would love to read something like that.

Thank you, and take care!

Helooo, this sounds absolutely adorable! I will do my best!

Sorry if this took a bit long, I hope you like it ^^

Wriothesley x Reader - Brighter Than The Sun

Characters: Wriothesley, Reader

Summary: Reader is a little sunshine and Wrio is down BAD

Warning: unadulterated fluff bro

A/N: I posted this without text by mistake lmao

Wriothesley sighed heavily as he read the same sentence for the third time. He had been on the same stack of papers for about an hour with scarce results. He couldn't seem to focus and the more he willed the clock to go faster the slower the hands seemed to move. Tea break felt ages away.

He let his head fall into the desk with a thick thud and groaned in frustration. What was this? The fourth break he took? Today there seemed to be no way to get his work done.

Oh how he wished he could hear you sing, maybe it would reset his brain. Unfortunately for him you had gone out to the court of fontaine to run some errands, his valiant attempts to keep you glued to him in bed proved to be futile.

Sometimes he struggled to believe you were real and right at his side. You always had a soft smile on your face, eyes shining. To him your eyes weren't the only part of you that shone, in fact he saw all of you as a star. You went about your day shining with the force of a thousand suns, comforting whoever was around you simply with your reassuring presence. The first time he had experienced this quality of yours was also the first time he had met you. He was having a bad day and he was this close to punching whoever rubbed him the wrong way first, you on the other hand were happily chatting with a friend of yours at the reception desk. You didn't belong there, instead having come to visit said friend at her new job. Hell he wouldn't believe you belonged in the fortress even if he saw you commit a crime with his own eyes.

The receptionist had gone in fight or flight mode as soon as she had seen him, stammering a greeting. You turned and met his gaze, following with a polite greeting and that warm smile of yours. There wasn't any fear in your shiny eyes, nor pity for him being there for that matter. Your relaxed demeanor intrigued him, he was used to people feeling tense around him, yet you didn't seem to be. You then asked him about the fortress, roping him into a conversation he didn't think he needed. He realized at the end of it, that he was much calmer than before and even though the conversation was one he had had many times, he felt refreshed.

Later he had summoned the courage to ask the receptionist about you and the rest became history. He still looked back fondly to that day, as he did with every memory he had of you. There was this warmth about you and everything you did, he simply couldn't get enough of it. It wasn't surprising he had fallen head over heels for you. You had accepted every part of him without question, even the darkest corners, so much so, that your light had made those corners a little less daunting. What had surprised him though, was that you yourself had dark corners. He struggled to believe someone who shone so brightly as you did, had such big of a baggage to carry around.

Later he had witnessed when your light dimmed as you cried in his arms about the same reoccurring nightmare, about all the blood you had seen spilled, about the fear you had faced. Yet even if dimmed, you never stopped shining.

A knock at the door made him almost jump out of his chair. He was so engrossed in the details of your radiant face in his mind that he had gotten distracted. Wriothesley sighed yet again. He figured he couldn't get more distracted than this at that point so he answered.

"Come in" he absentmindedly ordered the stack of papers on his desk, swearing to himself he would get to them at some point.

What he hadn't expected, was for you to show up into his office, at least not at this hour.

"Wriooo" you sang cheerfully as you skipped towards his desk with your hands behind your back.

"Welcome back, I wasn't expecting you to be back so early" he got up from his chair, maybe a little too eagery, pulling an amused chuckle out of you.

"I finished all my commissions" you said "missed me?"

"Of course I did" he admitted and pulled you in for a hug. You responded right away, burying your head in his sculpted chest. When his muscles were at rest he made a damn good pillow and you loved it.

"I brought you something!" You beamed, letting him go briefly to hand hin a small green bag "I hope you don't have this one yet"

"Thank you darling" he took the bag from your hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek, followed by one on your lips. You hummed contently in response.

"Well, lucky for you I don't have this tea yet. I've actually wanted to order this for some time" Wriothesley studied the tea bag intently "how about an early tea break? I want to try this with you" he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

"Absolutely, I've also brought pastries!" You gestured to a colorful paper bag you had left by the door when entering.

"Oh how lost I would be without you" the duke said in a rather dramatic tone.

"I bet" you poked at his nose, grinning.

Your light was almost blinding. Nonetheless he would still keep staring at his sun even if it blinded him.

[alphabetboyluvr]

BAD DECISIONS - SMUT INDEX

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver.

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb

synopsis

it's simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook's ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you've a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you've both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions.

note from holly: ask and you shall receive!! i was asked about a list of all the smut chapters in bd, so figured it'd be easier for me to make a masterlist - this took hours because I had to go through the entire story (which is like 450k words LMAO), but if you notice any missing, let me know!! all chapters linked will take you to the wattpad ver.

minors dni

Bad Decision #2 – Park Jimin

tags/warnings: jimin lol, drunk hook-up, slight dom jimin, bratty oc, spanking, fingering, protected sex, fully clothed, no orgasm for oc

Bad Decision #11 - Perry

tags/warnings: first shower, no smut but a lil nakedness

Bad Decision #12 – An Agreement

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation birdie, jk gets himself off in the bathroom sink <3 oc gets herself off in his bed <3

Bad Decision #13 – Work of Art

tags/warnings: Jungkook discovers boobs <3, breast play, nipple play, mirrors, paint (?), shower, mutual masturbation (for realsies this time), he finishes on her tummy <3

Bad Decision # 14 – New Rules

tags/warnings: mirrors, pussy worship, jk has the biggest boner known to man, fingering, one, two, three fingers! Orgasm for oc!!

Bad Decision #15 – Paper Planes

tags/warnings: cockwarming (that escalated!), hand job, fingering, protected penetration (safety first!!), oc on top, mirrors (they love them!), nose nudging!!!, clitoral stimulation, ‘good girl’, both finish &lt;3

Bad Decision #17 – Jeon Jungkook

tags/warnings: cockwarming 2.0, oc is bad a maths!, touching each other up above their clothes <3, mirrors lol ofc, nipple play, spanking, tittie sucking <3, fingering, neck kisses, unprotected (!!) penetration, cockwarming that accidentally becomes fucking! Oops! Jk on top, multiple positions, finishes on her back

Bad Decision #20 – Park Jimin… Again

tags/warnings: oops (kinda wild seeing the progression from 17 to 20 like this lmao), drunk hookup, blowjob, no oc orgasm <;/3

Bad Decision #23 – Cherry Picking

tags/warnings: most read chapter! Fun facts! tipsy hook up, oral (f receiving), pantie sniffing?? lmao, panties in oc’s mouth??? Lol, tittie sucking, spitting, jks nose <3, fingering, oc orgasm!! FIRST KISS!!!! Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he finishes on her tits <3 and licks it up <3

Bad Decision #24 – Resolutions

tags/warnings: hangover sex, shower sex, slight degradation, use of the word slut in a sexy way, praise, temporarily withheld orgasm (f), switch dynamics, unprotected sex, orgasms (f, m), he finishes in her mouth &lt;3

Bad Decision #25 - January

tags/warnings: fingering, f orgasm, mentions of the erotic accordion lmao

Bad Decision #26 – January, Still

tags/warnings: the tie chapter <3 what he does with the aforementioned tie I shall not get into but it’s pretty self-explanatory, oral (f), fingering, lil spanks, rimming (f receiving), spitting, unprotected sex, doggy, finishes on her back!!

Bad Decision #27 – Keeping Quiet

tags/warnings: this ones a lil angsty!! ‘if you’re here to fuck me, then fuck me. If not, you can go.’, they’re fighting but theyre needy! And tipsy! Bad idea!!!! Unprotected sex, kisses ☹ many kisses ☹ she wants him to finish inside ☹ he doesn’t ☹ mmmm rereading this one made me so sad lol! Sad smut!

Dad Decision #28 – Avoidance

tags/warnings: a lil? Lap sitting?? Dry hump??? Not really smut lol

Bad Decision #29 – ‘Daddy’

tags/warnings: the first of the polaroids, slut (affectionately <3) not smut as such, they’re just sorta working each other up

Bad Decision #31 – The Photo Booth

tags/warnings: all the build up for a blowwie without there being an actual blowwie lol (payback for the daddy thing), cute little lick of dick <3 lil precum swap <3 jk outrageously horny for the rest of the day, the photobooth pictures!!!!

Bad Decision #32 – Question…?

tags/warnings: jk’s parents kitchen, freckle kissing chapter!!!! <3 <3!! He finally gets that blowjob!! Fingering, he calls her baby sooooo much ☹ interrupted!!!!!! Nearly caught! Spend the day horny AGAIN, the conversation in a chicken shop is not the kind of conversation you should have in a chicken shop, jk quite literally wants to drown in you <3 TO THE LOVE MOTEL WE GO! Very needy, very desperate, very good <3 unprotected sex! Missionary! Tittie sucking! Ankles over shoulders! He’s going to town! CREAMPIE ! WE CHEER! Brief mentions of fucking again and him finishing inside her AGAIN

Bad Decision #33 – Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

tags/warnings: kisses ☹ so many ☹ ‘last time’ energy ☹ ‘chess’ ☹ against their better judgement, and despite their earlier restraint…. Oops! Shagging! Tittie sucking, dry humping (so not dry), 69, ass eating (f receiving), edging, fingering, clit spanks, squirting, unprotected (v quick!) sex, creampie, happy customers all around (until the next bird falls!)

Bad Decision #37 – Faking It

tags/warnings: angsty!! They are annoyed!!! Dominant jk!!! Arguing in a janitors closet at an art gallery!! Over her ex!!! He’s sooooo mm mm mmmm 😊 lots of ‘good girl’, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, tittie sucking, he wanks himself into her underwear!! While she’s wearing them <3 ‘gonna cum in ur panties, and then ur gonna wear them all night’ <33 they have a show to return to after all!!! He’s being like… so possessive but in a sexy way!

Bad Decision #40 – Spinning Bottles

tags/warnings: sex toys!! M & F !!! solo masturbation for oc, jk hears lol (floorboards are thin!), mutual masturbation, but like way hotter than normal, he’s soooo needy!! Beggy!!! Kisses!!!! Fleshlight creampie lmao, oc cleans it up for him 😊 with her tongue!! Cum swapping <3 so kissy, so lovely <3

Bad Decision #41 – Locked Doors

tags/warnings: shower sex, he like… fucks the little gap at the top of her thighs? Lol, kissy kissy mwah mwah, jk is like… totally in love! Mmmm he compliments!! Pretty standard shagging mechanics, emotion heavy, he finishes inside <;33

Bad Decision #43 – Circles

tags/warnings: dominant oc!! The neediest, whimper-iest handjob known to man!! She calls him a little slut <3 edging!! Oral (f), fingering, his hand is a necklace! Dominant jk! Oc rides!!! Seven had just been released! Sue me!!! Hair pulling, are they fucking or fighting idk, power struggle but sexy, kisses <3 cum! Everywhere!!! Titties and mouth <3 many seven references

Bad Decision #44 – Skinny Dipping

tags/warnings: pretty standard shag tbh, there are people in the rooms closeby but jk simply doesn’t give a shit, creampie, fingers in creampies lmao, eating creampie, too!!, finger sucking, multiple orgasms

Bad Decision #45 – The Rule of Five

tags/warnings: sofa shagging in lieu of speak about feelings! Kissing but v important kissing!! A little bit of cockwarming, unprotected sex, bed sex, creampie, all the good stuff you usually get with bd <33 squirting, jk is so lovely <3

Bad Decision #47 – Time Out

tags/warnings: a lil dry hump &lt;3

Bad Decision #48 – Bickering

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation <3 sex toys (f), he fucks her with it <3 then licks it clean <3 kinda deepthroats it actually lmao, cums on her tummy <3 more polaroids <3

last updated: 20230914

[dynasty889]

I thought I had posted this but sleep got me lmao. Here are my rankings. If someone did see them, well they’ve changed already.

1. Thunder Bringer: Y’all the acting. Every song is phenomenal in the acting department but I swear this one does it! Like when Odysseus’s’ voice breaks when he says he has to see Penelope. The dread the crew feels when they realize their lives are about to end Odysseus is going to let them die. Eurylochus’ voice when he says “but we’ll die.” I like how Odysseus’ resolve begins to falter and Just a Man is brought back once again.

2. Suffering: I don’t really care that this song was an illusion created by the Sirens. I love Anna’s voice. I’m so happy Penelope appeared in this saga, even if it wasn’t technically her. Also funny thing like hours before the saga came out I was thinking “hmmm maybe Ody had a fear of water.” Also the way I was skeptic of the song the entire time because it opened with a more synth(?) sound rather than traditional and when Penelope said “daughter.” My man is a genius! 😩 he integrated the Sirens so well

3. Mutiny: Again, the acting yall 😭😭😭 they are all so phenomenal. Like Odysseus’ gasp when he realizes he’s been stabbed by his crew. All the callbacks to Luck Runs Out and more. Also bonus points for Eurylochus calling Odysseus “Ody.”

4. Scylla: Good song. I really liked the way Scylla was haunting them before she revealed herself. I can kind of just imagine them trying to get through the strait and she’s taunting them and then she reveals herself just when they think they’ve gotten out of harm. I just thought that as a song it was a little short? I’m not sure.

5. Different Beast: hmmm can’t really remember much lmao. I liked the ensemble voices a lot, but yeah.

Also my favorite remastered songs were Open Arms and My Goodbye. Uhhh yeah. The Thunder Saga, so far, might be the darkest of sagas. I love all the callbacks to old songs. Just a Man is like all over the place I think??? And like the way Ody and Eury the melody of Luck Runs Out but they’re reversed? 😩

Y’all I’m not worthy to hear such genius ✋😭

Ps. Everyone involved in this project is so freaking amazing and talented. All the singers/actors and artists ugh omg the talent is off the charts I can’t with this. Alr bye I’m gonna suffer an existential crisis with Ody.

[natequarter]

Romana II states that Gallifrey has entered its "darkest hour again".

lmao i can just hear her irritation

[astromechs]

if you're still accepting, 16 for rebelcaptain? 👀

i want it known that i literally wrote this on my phone at the office LMAO OOPS, also under the cut because... yeah; from this list!

Under the right amount of pressure, anyone will break.

It isn't necessarily something that Cassian likes that he knows, but he knows it all the same, and he knows all sorts of ways to apply that knowledge. He knows that interrogations don't have to last days, don't even have to last hours, and don't have to synonymize pressure with cruelty, as the Empire makes its practice to believe — just knowing where and how to press is enough. With just one question. One word.

One touch.

There's no one in the galaxy more impressive than Jyn — her stubbornness and determination are unparalleled, a fire that's somehow always burning even on the darkest of days — but as impressive as she is, she, too, will break. She'll fold under his touch eventually, the pressure he's applied too much for even her durasteel resolve to withstand, and he'll have the victory of watching her come undone underneath him.

(It's favorite game for both of them, this.)

And eventually, he knows, isn't far.

He can feel her thigh shake as he presses his lips to it, as he lets his stubble drag lightly over her skin in the way he knows drives her wild. He can feel, just from the barest graze of a thumb, how wet she is, can hear, in the strain of her breaths, just how much of an effort it is for her to keep from arching into his hand in search of the friction, the release, she so desperately wants. All he needs is to apply just a little more pressure.

All he needs is just one more push.

"Come on," he murmurs against her thigh. "I want to hear you beg for it." His lips drift higher. Closer. "Beg me to fuck you."

He drags his lips closer again. This time, his thumb is a precise and targeted brush over her clit. And —

Jyn writhes under him.

"Fuck." It's a groan more than an actual word, concession, pent-up frustration, cracked pressure all at once. "Fuck me, or I swear I'll —"

Her empty threat is lost, drowned out by the noise that claws out of her throat the instant he puts his mouth on her.

Cassian allows himself the indulgence, just one, of a smile before setting to work.

[stardustedknuckles]

Also forgot that the Kamordah episode is when Caleb and Yasha have their private chat and like I love Caleb, but it's extremely funny to me that he took the chance to reach out and relate to Yasha - with good intentions - in the wake of her darkest moment and biggest regret, talking about how they were similar and lost on their paths from the darkness, only for her to fall in love less than 24 hours later. Like. Lmao. Get good buddy.

[beevean]

https://gizmodo.com/castlevania-nocturne-interview-spoilers-alucard-annette-1850892875

This is an interview that for once is not only with Deats but with Clive Bradely as well, Nocturne's writer and Ellis' replacement.

Before I start, I love how they talk about *that* ending like it's the hypest thing to ever hype. They know. They know what the fans only care about.

It ends with a clear and ready indicator that team is ready to tackle arguably the most iconic Castlevania narrative of all time, Symphony of the Night, as Richter and his allies find themselves bolstered in the darkest hour by the arrival of a familiar face… well, to us, at least, even if our young heroes aren’t as up on their Castlevania lore as gamers are.

Fucking peak. I love it. The gang is ready to tackle the SoTN story because even though they were about to die badly, after losing Tera, Alucard is there to save the day. Goddamnit if you suck his dick any harder you'll vacuum it off his body.

Also lol and lmao they cannot adapt SoTN at all. Where is Richter grappling with the fear that after killing Dracula his life is now done, making him easy prey for Shaft's manipulations? None of this can happen. Dracula isn't even around!

The character of Annette, trapped in a castle, made me think of Esmeralda in The Hunchback of Notre Dame—this extraordinary woman who sweeps into France. It seemed an obvious step to make Annette a revolutionary from St. Domingue/Haiti on that sort of model.

This... sure is a train of thought. I'll just say N!Annette fucking wishes she had Esmeralda's charisma.

Later we had a Haitian adviser on board, Cècile Accilien, who helped us with aspects of the history and culture. We wanted it to be as authentic and grounded in reality as possible.

oh god no spinning i'm wheezing

If i was Mrs. Accilien I'd be offended by how the character named after me can't even be a proper wise guide without degenerating into "your entire self is rooted into being a slave" and "those stupid frenchies will never understand our pain, so don't bother expecting empathy from your boo", but what do I know

also yeah sure it's realistic how Annette uses the power of her gods to run away from slavery

I just loved the idea of Richter’s grandfather as this bitter old guy who’s been through hell, lost his magic (which at the point they meet is also true of Richter)—kind of the opposite of Richter, or an image of how Richter could end up if he doesn’t evolve into the hero he needs to be.

Fuck off. I've already ranted about this. My poor man Juste deserves better than being "that one stupid asshole that exists as a warning".

I just wanted to add that Juste is a really special inclusion in the series for me, and Clive brought him into the show in a really great way that resonates really well with the Castlevania fan in me.

"wah i'm so glad juste was included in my story as a cynical fuck to be bullied, for meeeee 🥺 i'm such a big fan guys 🥺🥺🥺"

I don't like Deats. I know it's mean of me, but the more I read him talk, the less I like him as a person, he's just so conceited. I don't know who is the bigger hack between him and Flynn now.

So there’s almost a bit of a debate about Alucard’s design and whether he has intended to have pale blonde hair or white hair in Symphony of the Night based on the artwork of him and even his character’s sprite in the game. At the time of designing him in the original series, though, I decided to lean towards the pale blonde hair in order to invoke his mother, which was appropriate to the story. His hair got more saturated during lighting/compositing than I had ever intended, though, which was a constant frustration of mine. But even back then I tinkered with the idea that if we were to jump forward in time, to show how time has passed by leaning more towards the white haired direction (this also had the added benefit of not being something we would have to worry about getting over-saturated during lighting!).

Well, there you have it. N!Alucard's hair got lighter in-universe. I wonder if he changed color naturally or he decided to change his appearance.

for Nocturne, we wanted to invoke his SOTN look while also reflecting that this is a version of him that’s been awake and fighting for 300 years

Mhh. So I was right. He did live on for 300 years and witness his friends' death, abandoning his castle and village and Trevor's descendants to fight by himself. I'll make sure to judge this decision once S2 comes out.

[arlecchno]

asphodelus [ scaramouche x reader ]

5. you're on your own, kid.

prev masterlist next

is being lonely a normal thing? or is it just due to your upbringing?

warnings: mentions of suicide? not a bunch but scaramouche has joked about k/lling himself lmao, allusions to murder like always, a bit of fighting and blood, more to be added once i'm free

a/n: lol despite the title and summary i basically said nothing about being drowned in loneliness except for a paragraph or two but i'm too lazy to find a new one so bare with me pls

extra a/n in the end!!!

scaramouche felt like he just came out of hell.

well, technically, he did.

he had stayed at your lair longer than he intended to last night, and right now, he is currently sipping the most bitter coffee known to man at seven in the morning, in hopes of cutting down his need for sleep.

(it doesn't help, by the way. his eyelids are on the verge of closing.)

one look at him and you could just tell he's sleep deprived— not that he wasn't for the past few years he has worked in this department.

maybe he should just quit this stupid job.

“what in the world happened to you?”

scaramouche swiftly whipped his head towards the owner of the voice, and lo and behold, the last person he wanted to see in the first hour of his working hours, the man of the hour— tartaglia.

the ravenette clicked his tongue as he stepped away from the office kitchen, heading straight back to his desk with his mug in hand. he was not about to deal with someone so insufferable this early in the morning.

but it doesn't make it any better when the aforementioned ginger eagerly follows him from behind, insistent on getting an answer. scaramouche's not surprised, honestly. that's just how childe has always been, never backing down until he gets what he wants.

scaramouche's reply was curt. “leave me alone.”

but that doesn't stop childe from following him.

it wasn't until they finally arrive at scaramouche's desk that childe asks another question. “that case still keeping you up?”

right— if there's one thing about childe, it's that he has been by scaramouche's side since childhood. so, basically, he knows everything. from up to his darkest secrets and down to his traumatic experiences.

“no.” scaramouche half-lied.

to be fair, scaramouche wasn't entirely lying— he was confined in your base for pretty much most of the night, busy with the whole fantomatique ordeal, but that didn't mean it didn't remind him of those days; not when the fantomatique, the organization you're in, was the sole reason he lost what he had back then.

“well what has got you so uptight then?”

scaramouche didn't have time to sit in his chair when childe shoots that question. suddenly deep in thought, he just had half the mind to actually break it down to him and explain what he's been up to, but a flashback from last night flooded his mind.

“if you ever dare say a word about our partnership, you'll know who's throat i'm going for next.”

yeah, that's definitely not happening.

he may have joked about ending himself a few times, maybe a little too much, but never in his life would he ever want his blood to end up in your hands.

childe irked a brow at the ravenette's silence. before he could comment on it, another voice interrupted him instead.

“balladeer! captain's calling for ya!” someone shouted from across the room, and both of the detectives turned their heads towards the source of the voice. they didn't need to look at the person to know who it was anyways— it was the tsaritsa's assistant, katlin.

with an audible, and clearly loud sigh, scaramouche placed his mug down on his desk harshly, before brushing past childe's taller frame.

it's not like scaramouche wanted to meet his captain. hell, meeting the tsaritsa wouldn't even be the last thing he'd want to do– he'd rather explode than to ever have to face her. yet he needed an opportunity to squeeze out of the stupid personal conversation childe had decided to have this early in the morning, and this was his only resort.

childe's voice fell on deaf ears by the time he reached the tsaritsa's office.

he stopped for a moment, hand on the doorknob. scaramouche knocked three times on the wooden door, and a muffled come in can be heard from the other side. he inhaled deeply before pushing the door open, and he was greeted by the sight of the tsaritsa working on a pile of paperwork on her desk quietly.

scaramouche approached slowly, and stopped once he was just a few steps away from her desk. he stood there for a few beats, and when the tsaritsa didn't bother to bat an eye at him, he almost wanted to roll his eyes.

an asshole, as always.

“did you call for me, captain?”

after a hot second, she finally tilted her head up from the pile, staring at him with a deadpan look, one that never fails to be scaramouche's reason to end it all.

“oh.” was the first word that came out of her mouth, and she continued. “i did.” she said it as though it was a question, which prompted scaramouche to dig his nails into the palm of his hand that was shaped into a fist. he's glad that he could at least hide it from her prying eyes— save it for the high desk she currently occupies.

“right. i wanted to let you know that you are in charge of patrolling the city today.” she cleared her throat, flicking her eyes back to her work. “that's all.”

scaramouche frowned, confused. “but i'm handling that case from the other night–”

“not anymore.” she cut him off before he could even finish his sentence, and scaramouche gritted his teeth.

“what? why?” oh, he knew why, he didn't need an explanation to know exactly why she wouldn't give him a big case. there's no reason for him to be handling major cases when he's still under the fuckery of the tsaritsa's supervision. it's not like he hasn't been doing the same old patrol shit for the past year. this wasn't a surprise to him at all.

the tsaritsa sighed, looking at him once again with that same blank expression. “i've handed it over to the people who are far better for it, balladeer.” well, that definitely stings. “i don't expect you to be ready for such a task, not after that stunt you pulled last year.”

“...and how long do you plan on keeping me in the shadows? am i not a detective?” scaramouche pressed, although he already knew the answer to his question.

maybe when you finally deserve that detective title you live up to.

and those same exact words rolled off her tongue, which made scaramouche dig his nails into his palm deeper. right, it has always been that answer. what was he even expecting from the likes of her?

without replying to the tsaritsa, scaramouche turned on his heels and left the confines of her office at the speed of lightning, making sure to slam the door shut. if the captain was going to keep making him do such lousy jobs that even the lowest scums of the fatui could do without supervision, then he might as well break a few furniture or so in return. it was only fair.

the streets were anything but peaceful, scaramouche thinks.

it was roughly around ten in the morning, and the city was as busy as ever. folks were out and about, and he could vaguely recognise the same twenty people or so by the fountain doing their weekly protest against the fantomatique, as if that could make any changes in snezhnaya.

scaramouche sighed as he continued on patrolling, with a few of his subordinates trailing behind.

the ravenette was just about to leave the city and head on over to his next patrolling area when a sudden fight broke down at the same spot people were crowding at by the fountain he saw earlier, and that made scaramouche tsk in annoyance.

i'm not getting paid enough to deal with shit like this. his second insight of the day.

as his team hurriedly jogged over to the scene, the two men that were fighting already had each other's fists in the other's faces, and scaramouche grimaced as he witnessed the tall and bulky man successfully knocked the shorter man down, leaving a trail of blood running down the man's nostrils.

gasps and whispers were exchanged between the small crowd as they watched the scene before them. what was supposed to be a peaceful protest to fight against the deadliest organization had swiftly turned into a local fight you'd typically see in rowdy bars. scums.

“what the fuck?!” the man on the ground yelled, before quickly standing up to continue on with the fight. the shorter man was seconds away from landing a punch towards the taller man's stomach when scaramouche finally interfered. the show was amusing to him, but he had to put a stop to this, lest he prefers a full-on lecture by the jester later on.

“that's enough fighting, you two.”

the two men suddenly glared down at scaramouche, who was way shorter than both of them. amusing, really. they quickly shared a glance, and as though the tables had turned, they ganged up with one another against the shorter male, looking down at scaramouche with eyes full of mischief.

scaramouche only looked at them with nothing but boredom, hands shoved in his pockets like he has no care in the world. of course, who was he kidding? he was confident that he could take the two down in mere seconds, despite the fact that they both looked like they had a much bigger build than him. after all, the ravenette was put through rigorous training for him to be accepted into the fatui, no less that he's one of the higher figures in the said academy.

one of the two men scoffed, and scaramouche raised a brow as he stared up at the man with tanned skin. “who does this midget think he is? aren't people like you supposed to be running your legs and fighting for the safety of this city? and yet another person was killed last night. have you no shame, standing here, yet contributing nothing to the city?”

“the fatui do not deserve such praise from the kingdom when all you people do is patrol and run around like the weaklings you all are.” the other man said, already stalking up towards scaramouche.

scaramouche paid no heed to their insults. who do they think they are, trying to pick a fight with him?

the crowd could only nod their heads and whisper between one another, agreeing with what the two men were saying.

scaramouche could not blame them, truly. the people of snezhnaya had lost hope with the fatui. fifteen years had passed and the citizens are still forced to live in fear, in their own homes, in their own country. the fatui have barely done anything to keep the city safe, not when there was no way the fatui could have done anything to take down the fantomatique without getting their heads sliced off the second they look into the fantomatique's plans.

the fatui used to be the organization that the citizens of snezhnaya look up to and seek help from, but now they only serve as merely a name with zero contribution.

but even so, it didn't mean that the fatui haven't tried. the people do not need to know the struggles the fatui had to endure during times like this. hell, they don't even know the amount of members who had died trying to keep the city safe.

scaramouche only had a bit of pity towards these citizens. there was no point in doing so when the only thing he gets in return is this sort of treatment.

“if you boast so much about us being useless, then why don't you try being one yourself?” scaramouche had said in return, and the two men scowled.

then, scaramouche continued. “oh, pardon me. you both are already one yourself.” the slight jab of insult made the two men clench their fists, resisting the urge to jump at the short male. “tell me, what is the point of you being here, protesting, when you are too cowardly to even do half of the things the fatui do on a daily basis?”

“you–”

“might i also remind you that you are within the vicinity of the city, therefore the violences and ruckus you have caused here could get you arrested?”

the two men pursed their lips into a thin line, as if they had their mouths zipped the second that sentence rolled off the ravenette's tongue.

“if you think that you can pick a fight with me then be my guest.” scaramouche shrugged, knowing fully well that he could take both of the men down in a heartbeat.

when scaramouche finally decided to look around the crowd, eyes trailing over each person present there, he somehow saw you. you who was already staring right back at him, making scaramouche slightly falter at the sight.

what were you doing here? in the middle of a protest against an organization you are in?

as if you could read his expression, you shrugged your shoulders, exactly like what he just did a second ago, and scaramouche frowned.

the two men in front of him stared at scaramouche weirdly, confused as to why the ravenette was suddenly paying attention to the crowd.

just as scaramouche wanted to go after you, you vanished into the said crowd, and that made him even more sour than he already was.

damn you and your stupid assassin skills.

“uh, sir? what do we do about them?” one of his subordinates had asked from behind, and that finally made scaramouche snap back to reality.

scaramouche looked over his shoulder, and back to the two taller men. he sighed, bringing a hand over his face. “just… make sure they don't make a scene again.”

his subordinates could only nod as they took care of the two men, whilst scaramouche took the liberty to walk out of the crowd to search for you. that is if he manages to find you, archons know where you had decided to disappear to.

just as he passed by an alleyway, he was quickly dragged into the darkness by his fatui coat, causing him to whip his head around to the perpetrator, hand holding his gun on his duty belt.

and when he pulled out his gun and had it pointed to the person who had dragged him in, he was instead greeted by your figure looking right back at him, eyebrows raised and hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“woah there, officer. no need to get violent.” you waved your hands, albeit a little too excitedly. “it's me.”

“it's detective to you.” scaramouche corrected you, slowly putting his gun back. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“excuse me?” you scoffed involuntarily. “i live around here. do you really think i live in my base all day long? what kind of psycho do you think i am?”

scaramouche rolled his eyes. “you're a maniac. cramping up in your lair all the time wouldn't surprise me.”

“you wound me, balladeer.”

he ignored your comment. “what were you even doing in the crowds?”

“i could ask you the same thing, detective.” you enunciated his title. “aren't you quite the hotshot yourself in your department? why are you out here doing a weakling's job? patrolling the city?”

scaramouche had half a mind to tell you about his temporary demotion, yet he zipped his mouth shut instead, ignoring you once again as he observed his surroundings, making sure there was no one else here but you two.

you sighed when he didn't reply, pulling out something from your cloak, piquing scaramouche's interest. “what's that?” he asked.

instead of vocalizing your reply, you simply waved the item in front of his face. two tickets to a… fair? festival? whatever it is, what are you even planning on doing with them?

“what the hell is this? a date?”

you gagged. “what? god, no. as if i would ever go out with the likes of you. not even over my dead body would i ever disrespect myself like that.”

scaramouche rolled his eyes at your harsh words, and you didn't wait for him to snap back as you got to the point. “viktoria is going to be hosting a festival by the end of the week, it might be our best chance on getting the information we need from her.”

“and what do you plan on doing once we've got her in our hands?” he asked.

“we drill her until she's nothing but a blabbermouth.” scaramouche raised a brow at this, as though he's not fully convinced by your words. “what? she might be a tough nut to crack, but she's never shutting that big mouth of hers once she starts talking.” you grinned.

“should i be concerned on what you might have committed in order to get these tickets?”

“oh wow, again, what the hell do you take me for?”

scaramouche leaned on a wall beside him. “a psychopath, that's for sure.”

frowning, you slapped one of the tickets to his chest, keeping the other back to where it was in your cloak. “if you ever won an award for being the biggest douche in snezhnaya, i, for one, would not be surprised.” you retorted, and scaramouche shrugged his shoulders in return as he slipped the ticket into his pocket.

“do you have any more intel that i should know of? or is that all?” scaramouche queried, and you took a moment to think.

after a hot second, you simply patted his shoulder, walking past him to exit the alley. “i'd say… try to dress citizen-like.” you looked over your shoulder to eye at the ravenette's clothing, and scaramouche gritted his teeth, knowing fully well that you were judging his outfit. so much for calling him a douche earlier.

you seriously cannot be looking at him up and down when you're currently donning the same exact outfit as his, the only difference being the stark contrast between his fatui themed colors and your… dull ones.

“do you have a problem with the way i dress?”

you didn't bother to reply to his question directly. “maybe i have forgotten to tell you. viktoria knows the fatui like the back of her hand. it wouldn't be nice if you were caught red handed this early into the game, no?”

and just like back then at the fountain, you were gone in the blink of an eye.

damn you and your stupid dendrobium shenanigans, he thought once again.

and what the hell did you mean by dress citizen-like? was there something wrong with his sense of fashion? scaramouche looked down at his outfit, the usual white button up shirt with a simple black tie and black pants, completing it with his fatui coat that goes down to his ankles.

what could possibly be wrong with his choice of clothes?

after your little rendezvous around snezhnaya city, you finally decided to head back to the comfort of your home.

the corridor to your apartment was dark, a stark contrast to the winterly yet bright day in the city— despite the fact that the sun is close to setting. it didn't take long for you to reach your doorstep, unlocking the wooden door with the single key you were holding.

you apartment looked just like any other ordinary apartment you'd typically see in snezhnaya. you had only made minimal changes to the interior when you had purchased the place, fearing that you might have to move out yet again for the umpteenth time.

as much as you loved the luxury you get from each mission you were sent to, being the dendrobium truly has its individual cons.

the shift of your foot in the quiet atmosphere made a soft crinkle, as though you had stepped on something. a piece of paper, maybe. looking down, you eyed a piece of letter on the carpet by the door, and after a bit of squinting, you eventually recognized the familiar bloody stamp on the top right corner of the letter.

sighing, you bent down to pick up the letter and rip the cover open, not caring if it damaged the letter in the process. your eyes darted over to the handwritten letter, barely reading through its contents. there was no need of doing so, it's bound to be the same stupid content either way.

dendrobium,

a new target awaits. retrieve the documents needed from a merchant named alexis nikova. finish your work within twenty-four hours. your reward will be waiting for you at the usual place.

messenger VI.

groaning frustratedly, you tossed the letter on a desk near the living room. i just got home, for god's sake, you thought as you discarded your coat before flopping onto your couch, head leaning back.

you stared at the ceiling, and the ceiling stared right back at you. maybe if you stared at it long enough, you would think that it was straight up mocking you for the amount of risks you're taking in order to live.

“must be nice being a ceiling, huh.” maybe you've gone just a tad bit insane for saying this.

sighing once again, you readjusted your position on the couch with your back to the cushioned seats.

this was routine. you close your eyes, you try to calm your mind and rest before doing your nightly dendrobium duties, just like how you've always been doing for almost a decade.

and before you knew it, you were already entering dreamland.

except for the fact that it wasn't quite dreamland at all.

with a short and shaky gasp, you jolted awake, shooting up from your lying position on the couch. beads of sweat rolled down your face as you tried to calm your heavy breathing and shivering body.

you're not certain what time it was, but one thing's for sure; it was well past midnight. the moon that was shining brightly in the sky and the eerily quiet street downstairs gave it away.

great, you passed out for the whole evening.

you stared at the starry night as you calmed yourself down, serving it as a way of comfort... or some sort. you weren't sure if it helped in any way.

after a moment of nothing-ness, you finally decide to grab yourself a cup of water, ignoring the way your head throbs from your recent nightmare.

nightmares— you're definitely not a stranger to it. if anything, nightmares are your best friend. the kind of best friend who won't stop bugging you, leaving you no personal space. yeah, that kind of friend.

you're not even sure when was the last time you had a positive and enjoyable dream.

as the warm water fills your dry throat, you sighed in contempt. you looked at the ominously large clock by your counter, and you groaned when you saw the time.

2:08. way past midnight.

you would've been out finishing that stupid task at this time around, but instead you had just woken up to yet another gruesome nightmare. great, just great.

despite the fact that you have well over 15 hours until your mission is due, you have no intention of dragging it any longer. you're not a fan of doing things last minute— contrary to what people your age have the tendency to do.

maybe it's the fact that you've been brought up differently than other kids, or the fact that you practically had no one to look up to when you were a child yourself. well not anymore, for that matter. you've always been dependent on only yourself.

dwelling on the past isn't what you do— definitely not during nights where you're supposed to be finishing your tasks; yet here you are.

if not for the fact that you were from the streets, or for the fact that you were taken into this organization— you probably would've become a perfectly normal kid.

you could probably imagine yourself owning a small bakery down the street; like the one you'd always stop by every saturday morning with the kind lady serving you. the owner there would always insist on giving you extra pastry, excusing it as what she'd say: “you remind me of my own daughter.” maybe she's too kind for her own good— dully because she's serving a murderer every weekend.

nevertheless, if it weren't for your upbringing, you would've been a normal person, dealing with life normally, instead of having to fish out hearts and blood every night; all for the sake of your own living.

your apartment is too quiet. the place is nothing but despair. you feel like the wooden floors are eating you up, and your knees are at the brink of giving up— just like your whole being.

and yet you have no one to lean on to for help.

you're all alone. and you may think that's okay, but it's not. but what is there to do than to just suck it up and not dwell on it?

so you down your cup of water and swallow up your miserable self— and instead go out for your nightly duties as though it'd help rid your deteriorating mental state.

and maybe the relief in finishing up your next target might just give you a bit of color in your life— well, at least for tonight the color will be red.

scaramouche thinks he's gone nuts.

it's been a full week, and he's done nothing but patrolling. no cases under his lead, no crime scenes he needs to overlook, not even three sheets of paperwork on his desk that is due soon.

it's not like he's expecting anything less, nor anything more for that matter, but god forbid the tsaritsa lets him have at least a bit of fun in his gray colored life as a detective. correction— revoked detective title, but admitting that would hurt his pride and ego.

and it doesn't make it any better that he has nothing to do but sit in his desk all day after patrolling in the snowy city— and having to witness people like childe and signora experiencing the most fun in their jobs, leaving him in such a crestfallen state he might as well just break both his desk and chair in two.

good for them, he'd thought one time. leave it to the most miserable people to get the most exciting cases to work on. (he likes to think he is not miserable himself)

there was basically nothing for him to look forward to the following the weekend.

so that quite explains the reason why he's currently standing over the golden bridge— the place where he had met you for the very first time, professionally. not that whimsical and silly showdown or whatever he had put up to whilst chasing you down that one night.

you're late, five minutes late to be exact.

scaramouche's not the time of person to be so calculating (he is), but he couldn't help but glance over the giant clock on the highest building in the middle of the city every few minutes, save it for the fact that his week has been nothing but depressing. this was the only thing he might have looked forward to, albeit his very displeased face.

after two minutes or so— you finally arrived; in all your out-of-breath glory. and maybe a bit sweaty yourself, but scaramouche won't point that out to spare your embarrassment.

5:07 in the evening.

“you're late.” is the first thing he says as you finally calmed yourself down from all of that running.

you glared at him. “good evening to you as well, balladeer.” you enunciated his name with just a tad bit of annoyance, but he ignores it.

“what has caused the dendrobium to be so…” you raised a brow, a signal for him to continue and finish that sentence. or maybe a warning, he thinks. “unpunctual.” he settled on the least insult he could think of, but the way you're currently looking at him with those murderous eyes tells him that he's not safe either way, insulting or not.

“i had some errands i had to run at the last minute.” you replied, wiping off the bit of sweat on your forehead with your sleeve— despite the chilly weather.

the ravenette doesn't reply, instead opted to glance at your outfit. well, there isn't much difference from your usual choice of clothing, but at least you looked... decent, to say the least.

“i see that you've actually taken my advice, balladeer.” you said after a moment, and when scaramouche flickered his eyes to yours, you were already looking up and down his outfit. “well aren't you quite dressed for the occasion!” you beamed as you clasped your hands together.

scaramouche rolled his eyes and turned around, not giving you a second to relax from your high. “stop wasting my time and get going. i don't have all day.”

he walks first, leaving you behind. he needn't worry anyway, because not even ten seconds later, you were already on the same pace as him.

what a show off, he thinks. (you're not. it's just your average agility and strength; one that he could definitely never outdo. and not that he would ever admit that to you).

“can't you be a little more enthusiastic?”

“can't you be a little more quiet?” he shoots back.

you groaned. he's definitely not going to hesitate bursting your bubble every time you say something positive.

it was silent for a moment, with only your footsteps to accompany the both of you to your destination as the sun starts to set.

“so,” you tried striking up a conversation when you felt that it was too quiet and too awkward, looking at him beside you as you both walked down a path. “got any plans for the evening?”

scaramouche side-eyed you from your left. “don't we have a job to do? like getting that viktoria woman on her knees?”

you gasped dramatically. “oh, you seriously cannot think that would be the only thing we will be doing for the whole evening? that would only take around... a quarter to an hour, or maybe less, depending on how long she is willing to blabber that big mouth of hers, but that's besides the point.” you threw your hands up into the air a little too excitedly, looking up at the sky. “we practically have all night to enjoy ourselves!”

“that is a quarter to an hour less of my time, then. would that not be good for the both of us? these kinds of festivals are a bane to my existence— to anyone, really. there are so many things that i can actually put my effort and time to than waste it on an unenjoyable event.”

you snorted at his reply, finding amusement in his words. “oh balladeer, has anyone ever told you that you're sad and miserable?”

“yes.” he said. “quite a lot, actually. maybe a little too much for my liking.” he ends his sentence with yet another sarcastic tone.

and again, you stifled a laugh. “how do you even see a joyous festival and immediately think ‘oh, this is not worth my time, i shall better go back to my sad life to continue doing my sad job like the sad person i am.’” you tried mimicking his voice, but it came out a little bit restrained and whiny. he's too unbothered to comment on that.

“there is nothing joyous about festivals. only boring people like you would find solace in such stupid events.”

you laughed, only this time you couldn't hold it in any longer. for someone so dull and boring, he is quite the epitome of amusing. and a little bit of funny, if you have to admit.

and maybe— this might have just made scaramouche have the slightest bit of interest in this festival you look forward to so much.

taking down the most dangerous organization with you will be quite the roller coaster, he thinks. but that's what makes this whole mission better.

he's still not sure of your motive and why you want to take down your own kind, but maybe along this ride he might be able to learn a thing or two about you.

well, one thing's for sure is that you have such horrendous taste in fashion. and you're too cheerful for someone who is tasked to commit murders every few nights.

and it's kind of weird that for the second time since he's known you, scaramouche looks forward to working with you. despite your quirks and questionable sense in style.

the reason behind scaramouche's deep hatred towards the tsaritsa needs to be studied.

a/n: woah h finally posts a new chapter after a two month hiatus???? this is not her. she's currently drowning in a pile of books and on the verge of ending her life. (it is me)

anyways yeah i'm back from my slump i hope you guys are still here 😞 i'll try to update more frequently i promise!!! as always i hope you enjoyed this chapter i made a ton of changes to my writing over my hiatus so i hope this makes up for my absence LMAO i'm trying to improve more if that's not obvious haha anyways i guess i'll see you all in the next update :P

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[bonefall]

in my headcanon brighthearts dog attack also took off all the whiskers on that side of her face, what would this change for her realistically?

The loss of the whiskers is actually more devastating than the loss of the eye.

Whiskers are important for judging distance and are one of the reasons why blind cats are so good at navigating in close quarters without vision. She would have to re-learn skills she took for granted before.

For example, running full-speed through the forest. She used to be able to feel if a stick or tree was too close for comfort, but now she's constantly getting grazed by thickets and other obstacles. She also has no sense on that side of the face, so sneaking up on her is very easy.

Canon greatly overestimated how dehabilitating it is though. It's really not a great big inspiring story that Cloudtail helped her figure out how to adjust. The biggest thing is having a buddy to help her practice who's patient and fun to be around.

I do like how Darkest Hour gave her a distinctive "bob-and-weave" move, even though it's not necessary LMAO. I just think it sounds cool for her to be a very tricky fighter who moves around a lot.

Realistically, she does keep her good side turned to the opponent, so she can keep her whiskers on them. The worst part is that it would expose a broad side of her neck... could be fixed with an armored collar of some kind.

[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

Whumpmas in July 2024 - Day 1: (Re) Introduce Yourself!

This post is part of my participation in the 2024 @whumpmasinjuly event!

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Howdy, folks! I'm Deedoo! I've been a whump enjoyer for as long as I can remember, though I didn't know there was a term or community for it until somewhere in mid-2023, when I somehow stumbled across a whump fic, found the terms and tags, and the rest was history.

I'm a professionally trained artist who almost never draws (woops), though I sure do like to think about it. I got bitten hard by the writing bug a few years back, and that's been my main creative outlet for a while. I write all kinds of things, and am currently working on a (non-whump) fantasy series that I daydream about potentially publishing one day.

In terms of whump content, I have a WIP whump fic called "We Are TroubleD"! Right now there are several entries up, but they're miscellaneous entries written for a previous whump event that may or may not eventually find their ways into the proper canon story. I'm just having fun with it for now while I write the main story!

Here's a little more about me for those who might be interested:

❤️ Name: Deedoo

💚 Pronouns: she/her

🤍 Favorite season: Fall probably... I love the leaves, the colors on the trees, and of course Halloween! ... But ahhh, spring is so good too because you can go outside after a long cold winter and the flowers are blooming... It's so hard to pick just one season!

❤️ Average amount of sleep: 8 hours hopefully! My sleep schedule is all kinds of goofed up though haha

💚 Dream Job: Something where I can make art (or something that makes me feel creatively fulfilled), pays me well, and doesn't drive me into the ground due to exhaustion and/or long hours (beyond what I can handle).

🤍 Blog established date: Nov 23rd, 2023! Or at least that's when I reblogged my first ever post on here. I'm not quite sure how to check when I actually made this blog!

❤️ Username/blog meaning: I originally wanted to call my self "Whumpty-Dumpty" like "Humpty Dumpty", but that name was already taken, so I went with "Whumpy-Dumpty-Doo" like "Scooby-Doo", and specifically the show "Scooby-Doo, Where Are You!"! That theme song frequently plays in my head because of this blog. That's also why the line in my profile asks "Who whumped you?". Now you can sing along with me!

💚 Hobbies: Drawing, crafting, writing, playing video games, watching youtube, and walking!

🤍 What you love about whump: The power dynamics, the struggles, the vulnerabilities, the comfort and care (I ultimately want the whumpees to have happy or at least neutral endings!), and the journey that the whumpees take to overcome, hold on, and survive their traumas. Things can get so emotional, and sometimes it's through the deepest and darkest horrors that you can see the brightest lights at the end of it all.

Plus, the community is so creative!! I love how so much of the whumpsphere is made up of original stories, characters, and art. So many people churn out consistently amazing stuff, and it blows me away.

... Also I'm a sucker for any character who is bound and gagged. It's a freaking weakness. Sue me lmao.

❤️ Anything else to add: I hope that everyone who reads this has a nice day!

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Please note that my blog is meant for an 18+ audience. There are things that I post and reblog that are mature in nature and can sometimes be NSFW and not suitable for minors.

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Tags: @whumpmasinjuly-archive