#the neutral column is made from leaves

[socraticcryptid]

if tea is leaf juice then uh

is this anything

[All photos taken from Wikipedia/Wikimedia commons. Image description under the cut.]

Image description begins. Image is a Dungeons and Dragons-style alignment chart meme, where the columns are lawful, neutral, and chaotic respectively, and the rows are good, neutral, and evil respectively. Lawful good has the text “Black tea, oolong, green tea, white tea” and an image of those four types of tea. Neutral good has the text “Rooibos, chamomile, and other herbal teas” and an image of mint tea. Chaotic good has the text “Fruit tisanes” and an image of a fruit and nut tisane, unbrewed. Lawful neutral has the text “Matcha latte” and an image of a matcha latte. True neutral has the text “Spinach smoothie” and an image of a green juice or smoothie. Chaotic neutral has the text “Beer” and an image of beer. Lawful evil has the text “Chewing raw tea leaves” and an image of a hand holding several fresh, undried tea leaves. Neutral evil has the text “Kimchi” and an image of six versions of kimchi. Chaotic evil has the text “Fruit salad” and an image of a fruit salad. End image description.

[theconquerorwormhoard]

I NEED TO REQUEST A TIMELORD! READER X 10TH DOCTOR!!!

I feel like there’s just not enough on the app.

could be just like cute adventures, two time lords chatting, idk you decide <3

(so sorry for the wait! This was super fun to write, thanks so much for the ask 👌)

A Madman In A Box

Rating: G

Pairing(s): 10th Doctor & Time Lord!Reader

Tags/TW: Time Lord reader, reader is gender neutral

The Doctor was unlike any Time Lord you'd ever met.

For one, he seemed to have no idea what he was doing at any given moment. He leapt headfirst into danger, and almost seemed to relish in leaving an impact. The two of you had travelled to hundreds of different star systems, and it seemed to be his mission to leave each place a little better off than when you'd arrived.

It was baffling, but as you spent more time travelling space and time in his antiquated Type 40 TARDIS, you began to realize that this lifestyle fit you more than a life on Gallifrey ever would.

Today, the Doctor was taking a bit of a break. Instead of scouting for a new adventure to insert himself into, he was camped out in the console room, lying on his back and taking apart... Something.

"What are you doing?" you asked, sitting in one of the jump seats. You tended to hover whenever the Doctor began... Tinkering - once he'd tried to correct the chameleon circuit and nearly ejected the entire console room into space.

He sat up, promptly knocking his head against the bottom of the console. "General maintenance," he muttered as he rubbed the forming knot on his forehead, "Have to make sure the old girl is in tip top shape."

You smothered a snort. "I think the 'old girl' was out of commission before either of us were even born," you said, and he answered you with a huff.

"It's not like they had the newest model just sitting empty in a museum," he said. The TARDIS gave an indignant hum and he patted the central column, saying, "Besides, she's the best machine I've ever operated."

You raised your eyebrows and nodded, crossing one leg over the other and reclining in your chair.

After a moment, you asked, "Why did you do it? I mean, you hardly passed your exams, whatever made you think to go off on your own?"

He paused. "I just hated being there. My first face had never liked being cooped up on that dust ball-"

"Your first face?" you interrupted, "I never heard that bit. You left before you had even regenerated, even once?"

He nodded, saying, "I don't know what it was back then, maybe I was going stir-crazy, maybe I saw the writing on the wall and decided to try and avoid it on my own, I don't know. But I left, and I'm better off for it."

A question arose in your mind and you quickly shoved it back down. The Time War was a topic that - the two of you had agreed - was best left alone, and you respected that. It was an open wound in the universe, and you'd never seen it more plainly than in your best friend.

"What do you have in mind for the next trip?" you asked, and his face lit up.

He stood up from the floor and tugged one of the view screens over to where you could see, flipping a switch and displaying a star chart. "So, you know the forest of Pitinia?"

"The bird sanctuary?"

"Yes. Well, in the next system over, the same people have built the biggest aquarium in the universe."

You sat up in your chair, a smile dancing across your face. "Have you got ginger beer somewhere?"

He met your gaze with a wide smile. "You read my mind."

[idle-daydreams]

Tranquility

[Poe x Reader]

Tw: Soft yandere, implied kidnapping

Poe enjoyed watching you.

It wasn’t anything sexual; he simply enjoyed watching you going about your day. Whether you were reading a book (particularly one of his books), or working on your hobbies, or even just playing with Karl, it was nice seeing about the place. He certainly enjoyed it more than the times he’d spent surreptitiously stalking you, sneaking peeks at you from behind trees and through windows. Now, he could follow you around openly, or sit right beside you and take in every inch of your form. He could even reach out to cuddle you to his heart’s content if he wanted.

It wasn’t as though you could leave.

He gazed at you now, sitting quietly in your bed. You were working on some origami - your latest hobby - your fingers working deftly upon the small square of paper. His eye caught the soft pout of your lips, the delicate column of your throat, the smooth expanse of your bare leg peeking out from beneath the bed covers. A rush of desire ran through him, and he turned his face away with a whimper.

“Po—Edgar?” You glanced at him. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine, fine,” he mumbled. “Just, um, nothing.”

He looked at you again, unable to keep his eyes off of you. You shifted under his gaze, pulling the bed covers over yourself. “Are you going to stay here tonight?”

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quickly. “I, I would prefer not to. You don’t mind me staying, do you?”

You shook your head. Poe ignored the niggling voice at the back of his mind that your compliance was just an act, and instead perched gingerly on the edge of the bed. It was a Western-style four-poster, with gauzy curtains that fluttered gently in the early spring breeze. “I wrote you another letter,” he said eagerly.

Your eyes were neutral as you took the missive from him. Poe’s heart bobbed somewhere in his throat as he watched you go through it. He liked to write you letters, eloquent ones, that detailed the depths of his love for you; pages and pages of flowery writing that could have put the most ardent romantic to shame. He would have died of embarrassment had anyone but you read it, but watching you peruse his work excited him.

“I mean every word,” he said quickly, as you finally reached the end. “I-I love you so very much, [Y/N].”

“I... can tell.” You pursed your lips, gaze flickering to his own. “I love you too, Edgar.”

Hearing those words made his heart soar. Poe beamed, patting your leg awkwardly. “Thank you, I love you too!” he said, then wilted. “I-I mean, I know I just said that, but still. I mean, I wanted to say it again.”

“I know.” You gently patted his hand. “You’re welcome.”

Your words melted his heart. You were so soft, so sweet, so kind, everything he could have ever hoped for and never dared to imagine. Emboldened by your response, he cautiously wrapped an arm around you. When you didn’t pull away - didn’t reject him outright, as you’d been wont to do in your earlier days - he tightened his grip enough to pull you into his arms. Resting his chin on your head, he let out a contented sigh.

You were here. You were his. He had you in his arms, and all was right in the world.

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 8

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Someone's excited and someone isn't in this week's chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation, There WILL NOT be any Miscarriages

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Trigger warning: There is a mention of miscarriage. Reminder that there will be no miscarriages in this story. I apologize to anyone who has suffered that grief and please know that while times may be tough in this story, they will get better.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. leapt into the air. With a swivel of his torso that would have been impossible with mammalian spinal columns, he rotated all the way around to snatch a Frisbee. He then landed with the brunt of his weight denting dead grasses. Doing the same spine breaking spin, he whipped the plastic disc away from him. It shot with lethal accuracy at your mate who caught it without wasting a bit of movement.

The Frisbee was launched again and the game continued on as it had.

It had been going on for some time now.

It seemed like everything had.

This family picnic.

The last few weeks.

The persistent chill in the air.

It was why you were able to be out like this in the first place. For weeks, clouds took root in the sky. They darkened the doors of NYC and filtered out vibrancy. What was left was the usual humdrum of the city’s occupants and the only other entity that marked winter: cold.

Those who braved the elements bundled up, but there was little to see. All color was sucked from the concrete and buildings leaving everything a similar grey casing as the cumulus constellations above. Even a bright colored coat amongst the sea of neutrals seemed a pale comparison to how it appeared on a store rack.

It sent hoards of people indoors where golden tones were meant to encourage circadian rhythm. Bars were packed until condensation clung to the windows and hid them away from the chill. Restaurants buzzed with patrons looking for bowls of comfort and rooftop parties were dotted with the glowing embers of heat lamps instead of fairy lights.

They glowed like fireflies overtop the city, you imagined.

In reality, you hadn’t seen them.

You hadn’t seen much as of late.

Your husband had become a husk.

You had played out the rest of your Valentine’s trip in quiet contemplation. Waking for the multi-course breakfast should have been a treat and to an extent it was. It helped mop up the bitter feelings of the night before and there was love baked into every bite. The couple and other bed and breakfast tenants made for lively conversation and you heard life stories.

Ones that included family.

Ones that turned Donnie further inward.

He had yet to emerge in the time that followed.

When S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. phoned about the parks being empty, Donnie hadn’t challenged him. He agreed to an outing regardless of the conditions. Your son then immediately texted you with complaints of Donnie’s pliancy since he’d had a whole presentation planned to convince him. You offered to listen, but you certainly weren’t going to turn down the offer. In the end, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gave up and you instead ironed out the necessary details that brought you now to the park.

Only a few joggers happened by at an irregular pace and they were so bundled up they didn’t blink an eye at the giant purple humanoid automaton.

To a side glance, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was nothing more than a colorfully dressed being braving the cold in layers. In reality, your son generated his own warmth and the cold meant his processors were firing at some kind of top optimization. He could finally walk around in his humanoid form without being gawked at and having the park to yourselves was an added bonus. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was living out his dreams of playing catch with his dad, even if said man was less part of the game and currently acting like an automated machine that fired discs.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. nabbed the plastic out of the air in another momentous leap before he ran over to you. “See that one? Did I get higher that time?”

“I think so…” You pondered to play up his excitement.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s legs folded up so he could more closely match your height. “Well!?”

You rolled your eyes over the darkened sky before landing on him. “I bet you can do better.”

“I can!!” He revved to his feet and launched the Frisbee at Donnie. “Throw it high!!”

Your husband complained and the disc then cleared S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s leap by several leagues. “Shoot!”

It disappeared into some dead brush.

Heavy metal footsteps clabbered after it. “I got it!”

You watched the lights on S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s chassis disappear and turned back to Donnie. Your husband’s eyes were both fixed and unfocused after where his son had gone. It had been weeks since you’d seen life shine off his gaze. He fully moved through motions and had never verbally accepted that you were no longer trying. Instead, he let his actions speak louder as you’d gone through your next ovulation cycle without having sex at all.

General intimacy might also have been absent had you not pushed for it. Your mate didn’t deter you, but was a lackluster partner in that regard. You often curled up against him on the couch for the sake of it and it was only after you continued to root stubbornly did he relent with an arm around you. You’d settle as thanks for it, but he no longer churred.

You hadn’t heard the sound since that accursed morning.

There was no helping it.

As Donnie had hypothesized, you became his strength where he lost will. He could easily be led, but he lost the desire to plan. This was his version of burnt out, you thought, as you took over making meal plans and keeping track of household stock. You often left him notes of what needed to be done that day and he always had them complete by the time you got home. It was a little more on your mental load, but his despondency didn’t make the extra work a chore. You wanted to care for him. The only exhaustion you had faced in the last few weeks was the one that struck you every time you opened your calendar. 

The ovulation schedule was still overlaid amongst your daily tasks.

Since Donnie was no longer updating it live, it now ran on the last approximate data. You saw the time when your body supposedly released an egg, but if Donnie’s nose picked up on it, he didn’t betray that information. He was a shell that currently did what he was told, ate what was put in front of him, drank until a glass was empty, and slept when he laid down. You cared for him without a single question as you imagined this was all very new for him.

He had never spoken of burnout before though you imagined that was probably the stemming factor for his big 30s change. Years of scraping by took its toll on him and had manifested in him giving up the will to fight. He carried on for the sake of it after that and history seemed to align with what was happening now. It made you wonder how or if Donnie had ever learned to process grief. 

It didn’t seem like it since his reaction to such was to shut down. While he rarely treated himself like a computer these days, it seemed like an instinct to fall back on those old habits. The moment the chip in his brain couldn’t process one thing, the system kicked in with a failsafe. It robbed him of all other emotions during the reboot. He was in safety mode which glided by on the barest instruction. Sex, to that extent, was out of the question for a multitude of reasons, but the largest reason had to be it was inadvertently the cause of his crash. Doing it again led to that ultimate are you or are you not pregnant scenario that had caused his malfunction in the first place. Until he could handle that exact computation, you would be in stand by with your pocket warmers close, not that you were troubled by the actual cold.

It had been S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. who created the electric blanket you were currently perched on. He was becoming acutely aware that his parents’ flesh bodies were negatively impacted by the cold. You weren’t exactly sure, but you had a feeling he had downloaded data on babies and it had scared him to find out how fragile they were. That was presumably connected to the dangers of motherhood which was why it made sense when your son demanded to take you out shopping for a downier winter coat. You’d picked him out a cute beanie for his worries which he’d clipped onto his head. It flopped around as he jumped which was exactly what it did when he burst from the bushes. “Found it!”

“Where was it?!” You called out to him.

“Tree!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. threw his arms out to mimic branches. “I didn’t cut it down!”

“That’s my boy!” You cheered him on.

He wriggled happily before coming over. “Soup time? I’ve been keeping it toasty!”

“Sure.” You moved to give him room on the blanket if he wanted it and looked toward Donnie. “Come back in!”

Your husband didn’t jostle and walked forward as if a command prompt had been entered.

You pulled up a secondary blanket that was tucked around your legs.

Donnie knelt down on a far edge of the ground cover and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s chest compartment opened up.

Right next to his facsimile of a heart was a large thermos which he extracted and set down. “Don’t touch it yet. Outside temperature reads 93°C.” 

“That’s not toasty; that’s boiling.” You chastised him.

“Nah, it’s totally food safety holding temp!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. scoffed.

“When’d you get your license?”

“I got a part time job!”

“And you didn’t tell me!?” You pinched up the fabric on Donnie’s pants to tug him.

Your mate shuffled only an inch closer.

“I don’t tell you everything, mom.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. took a bitter tone, but his digital eyes wrinkled at the improv.

“My baby, I remember when you were just a microchip…” You feigned sobbing and pulled a seam on Donnie’s pants harder.

He finally came close enough that you could toss some of the blanket over his lap.

There was still a modest distance between you.

“So embarrassing!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. whined.

“Bring someone home so I can show them your baby pictures.” You grinned and grabbed the handle of a soft-sided cooler.

From inside you produced a nice crusty bread you had gotten that morning with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. as a pre-game outing.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. tugged the cooler to him to get bowls ready and dolled out steaming cups of soup.

“Mom…?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. watched on as you relished tearing into the loaf.

He sounded nervous so you addressed him seriously. “Yes?”

“I… don’t have a job.” His eyes were pricked with pixel tears.

“I know, dear.” You patted his hand.

“And I’m ace!” He burst into a phony sob.

“But your dating profile!” You feigned a gasp.

“I just love a free meal and ice breakers!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. supposed agony had him falling over onto you.

He was metering his weight and you wrapped an arm around him. “We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?” He looked up at you and his display blinked away tears.

“Of course. I’m always here for you.”

“And… scene!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shot upright and you were barely able to get out of the way.

You tittered along with him as he passed you a spoon.

You took it and gave it to Donnie along with a bowl and some bread.

He stared down at the mixture before ladling some up and eating it since it was there.

You gave him a forlorn look before S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. passed you some soup of your own.

“Which parts were true?” You took a knowing bite.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. clammed up and picked up some bread for the sake of it.

“Shelly.” You didn’t need to press heat to know your son would crumble.

“The dating profiles and ace part.” He tore a bit of the bread flesh out and worked it between his metal digits into little tight balls.

“You’re… dating!? Like actually?!” You perked up before you got a bite in your mouth.

“Yeah…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gave way to despondent embarrassment and balled up more bread.

“I feel like I want to congratulate you, but you’re acting weird…”

“I kinda sorta… Uh… keep ghosting them…?”

“Oh…” You finally took a bite and found the temperature warmed your throat pleasantly.

“Yeah… I love the first date. Ugh, I could do it a million times over! The talk! The first look where they get that feeling! Each person is totally new and figuring out how to make them laugh that first time! Unf!! That’s what I bet it feels like when you take a good bite of food! Has to be!”

“Sounds like it, but…”

“I know…” He ground out and wilted. “Some of them get real mean when I turn them down after. There’s like expectations. That stuff sucks. Can’t we just hit it off and end it there?”

“Not really how it works… It sounds like these people are looking for a real connection. How much are you telling them beforehand?”

“Mostly the synthetic body stuff as a test. If they can deal with that then it’s all picking a place.”

“I meant about you being ace or that you don’t want anything long term.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was getting close to hollowing out his slice of bread.

“You’re not.” You ventured a guess.

“I’m not.” He agreed with a pout written in his body language instead of on his display.

“You’re feeling guilty about it.”

“The last guy got so sad…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. set the empty crust aside and started building up his bread pellets into a pyramid.

“It hurts. It sucks to think you met someone only for them to just want to stop after one date. Can’t you set the apps so it’s not romantic?”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. knocked over his growing tower.

You waited.

“You can do that?!” Your son’s eyes shot to yours.

“Depends on the app, I think.”

“Show me your profile!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. made an immediate grab for the pocket of your jacket that had your phone.

“Hey! Just because you can hear where it is, doesn’t mean you get to take it before I say yes!”

“Kid rules!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. protested and snagged the flap on your jacket anyway.

You were unable to swat your son away as he got your phone and plugged it into a port in his hand.

“Kids learn certain boundaries.” You grouched and gave up to eat.

“Nah, kids break the rulez. That’s with a ‘z’ by the way.” His eyes blinked at the display. “There’s nothing here!”

“It’s almost like I’ve been in a committed marriage for years!” You dunked your bread into the soup and watched it sop the liquid up.

“But you said you could make friends on it.”

“I have friends.” You chuckled.

“More friends.”

“I’m pretty good with the friends I’ve got.”

“So you just stop!?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. looked at you like the odd one.

“I’m not against it.” You reached out to take your phone back.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s eyes rolled over into binary.

“What are you doing?” You turned wary.

“Found it!” In a blink, he projected a display of a dating profile you had made in your 20s.

You screeched straight through setting your soup safely aside and waved through the pixels to destroy it. “What is that?! Where did you find that?!?”

“Nothing on the internet dies!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. cackled pure malevolence to the cloudy sky.

“Is that active?!” You hissed and started grabbing at S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s form in an attempt to stop the display.

“Nah! It’s an archived page!” He giggled.

“Who archives that!?” You asked rhetorically before switching gears. “Turn it off now, mister.”

He laughed louder and the image dissipated.

You sank back into the blanket with a scowl.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. held out for a few seconds fiddling with his bread again.

“Want advice?” You sighed.

“Yes please.”

“Apologize to whoever will listen. Be honest about how much you feel comfortable with sharing. It’ll help. People can usually sense when someone isn’t honest.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. nodded.

“And ask that last guy to be your friend. He might be up for that. He might not be. It’ll all depend. Just stay safe.”

“Are you warning me about stranger danger?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes.”

“Will you give me a curfew?!” He cheered.

“You live on your own!”

“Aw!” He whined long. “Can I move back in and get one?”

“Back in?” You got hold of your bowl. “How long has it been since you were living with Don?”

“What was it, dad? Like nine-ish years?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. turned to Donnie as if he hadn’t been silent all this time.

Donnie didn’t look or respond.

“Nine years, 142 days, and six hours.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. told you.

You gave him a sympatric look for trying to include Donnie.

He took it with an understanding bob. “It’s not like there’ll be room for me soon anyway.”

“Shelly…” You had always had a feeling that S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was insecure about his place since you’d told him you were trying for a baby, but this was the first time he’d voiced it.

He waved his hands to dispel your worries. “Not like that! I want a little dude or dudette sibby!”

You tried to stifle a laugh.

“I do!”

“No, no.” You reached out to take one of his hands. “Not that! ‘Sibby?’”

“I’m gonna teach them all the cool slang!”

“Sure…” You teased.

“I am! I’m gonna be so cool! The coolest bro ever! I’ve been downloading books and everything!”

You softened. “You are.”

“Can I babysit?”

“Only lame big brothers don’t.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gasped, horrified.

You squeezed his hand, not that he could feel it.

He did notice though and looked up to you. “How’s that going? The data hasn’t been updating like before…”

The way Donnie’s spoon scraped the bottom of his bowl was palpable.

You sent him a nervous look, but he didn’t return it.

When you got back to S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., you saw your son had done the same.

“Clean.” Donnie spoke his second or third word of the day.

You slurped down the rest of your soup and held the last bit of bread in your mouth before passing him your bowl and utensils.

He got his own and walked off.

“I mean it’s obvious something happened.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. spoke as soon as Donnie trended out of eye line.

You chewed quietly before you spoke. “It really seemed like I was pregnant for a minute…”

“Did something bad…?” He searched you with growing anxiety. 

You shook your head. “No miscarriage, just a late period.”

“Could be late from stress.”

You bobbed your shoulders both agreeing with the possibility, but also not knowing for sure.

“What happened?”

“The emotional toll is… getting to us. It finally caught up with Donnie… I don’t know, Shelly. I asked if we could stop trying for now.”

 S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s red eyes widened.

“He’s not getting back on his birth control or anything, we’re just… I don’t know! We didn’t talk about it. I guess we won’t be obsessed with the schedule? I guess it just happens if it does…?”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. nodded.

“He’s hurting and I can’t help.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. tipped over until he could rest his head on your shoulder.

You set your cheek atop him. “I was hurting and he was there for me, but now it’s reversed and I think I’m doing everything I can, but maybe there’s something more.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shook his head under the guise of snuggling closer.

His body radiated warmth and you leaned into it. “I know… Part of this is him coming to terms with what will or won’t happen.”

“I don’t really get it.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. spoke softly after you hadn’t for a while. “The urge to reproduce or whatever, but I get family. I love family. I want more to love.”

An arm snuck around to hug you.

You wriggled until you could sling one around him.

He rumbled with what you identified as a digital version of a churr. “When’d you get that?”

“Used a mixing board and messed with the levels a few weeks ago.”

“That’s fun.”

“Makes me feel closer to dad.”

“You’re just like your dad.” You pecked just above the point of S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s triangle.

“Thanks.” He rumbled louder.

You chuckled and rubbed his arm.

He adjusted a bit so he could lay in your lap.

You made sure he was whatever version of comfortable that worked for him before you followed lines in his body with your fingers.

He relaxed there for a while and his eyes closed. “You’ll make good parents.”

“I hope so.”

“You will. Dad’s come a long way. You’ve always been great. Fun to make yell.”

“Goodie.” The corner of your lip quirked sarcastically.

“It could take years.”

“I know…” You murmured.

For a long moment you both existed as parent and child.

“I think… we need to accept that. I think that despite hearing those low odds, we thought we could beat it like we have everything else. I think all this… shit, all these shitty thoughts, this misery, is a weird warning.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. watched you.

You looked down at him. “You can’t strong arm a baby. A baby takes time.” You rubbed the area where his cheek would be. “A baby takes understanding and you can’t force it. You can’t force any kid. Knowing every logical science fact in the universe isn’t going to convince a baby to stop crying. Kids are little nonsensical storms. Maybe all this was showing us that. The sooner we accept it, the better.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. reached up and took your hand.

“Do you think Donnie will ever make up for how he treated you?”

“No.”

“But you still want him to?”

He thought for a long moment. “No.”

“Are you waiting for something…?”

“Nothing.”

“Why… did you stay? Why do you still bother? You became independent, why didn’t you leave?”

The line of S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s smile was so genuine you felt your very being soothed. “He’s my dad.”

You had to look away.

You looked up at the cloudy sky.

It sat the same way it had for weeks.

Unmoving.

You lost focus as you stared at the diffused light.

You didn’t see anything until a sharp zap of cold nipped your nose.

It almost felt wet, but from what you saw of the sky there was nothing there. 

You had to bring your head lower to see the tiny tufts of snow. 

You patted S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s chest to get his attention.

The flakes weren’t heavy enough to come straight down and instead flittered off with weak will to gravity.

“It’s snowing…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. mooned.

He was soon up from your lap and catching your hand.

You were on your feet in moments and he threw his head back. You watched as his digital tongue appeared from the line on his beak and a snowflake hit him only for it to melt instantly. He cheered for it and you threw out your frame to do the same. The snow tasted sour on your tongue and you gagged a little. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. fussed about acid levels and you returned the concerns by wondering why he hadn’t warned you. He started to respond before he ran for the sake of it and you chased after.

He purposely kept within reach so you could catch him and when you did you caught his wrists. You then threw your weight to one side which spun him, but didn’t knock him over. You kept up momentum, soon running. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. caught your hands right back and you were twirling until the flurries made for white blurs around you. Increased speed eventually broke you apart and you both fell onto crunching grass with giggles.

Donnie appeared over your head and you looked up at him with warmed cheeks. “It’s snowing, Don!”

He nodded and offered you a hand.

You let him help you up and tried not to look too owlishly as he initiated a secondary action by dusting grass clippings from you.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was still on his back and watching with glowing eyes.

“Where’s the stuff you rinsed?”

Donnie looked over to the blanket.

You followed his sight and assumed by the open cooler that he had stuffed the tableware in there. “I might have eaten some acid snow.”

Your husband’s face didn’t betray much, but his chin dipped a little to check.

You stuck your tongue out for him to see.  

A snowflake immediately landed on it and you choked as you stumbled away. “Ack!!”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. hooted with laughter.

“That was dumb!” You coughed and returned to find Donnie with the faintest light in his eyes.

Yours tripled in size.

He did nothing more and only continued to watch you.

You thought about double taking, but instead chewed your lip.

It took some heavy debate before you gave it all up to chance, “Did… you trick me?”

His gaze softened the smallest amount.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You meant to say something, but a flake then touched down on the tip of Donnie’s nose.

His eyes crossed to look at it and you reached up in a great show.

He lowered his head for you thinking you’d wipe it.

You were going to and fisted up your fingers so your thumb was free.

Just before you made contact, you switched grip so your forefinger was extended and used it to swipe down the melting droplet straight into your mate’s mouth.

The acidity hit his heightened taste buds and he reared away from you with the most movement he’d made in almost a month.

Both you and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. couldn’t contain your giggles.

You both felt the moment Donnie recovered more than saw it.

“RUN! DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shrieked before kicking up lawn to take off.

You pivoted as quickly as you could to run the other way.

You heard S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. scream out something about Donnie not being able to catch you both before there was an explosion of sod. You turned back, having run a good many feet away to find debris falling with the snow and Donnie hunched over the jangling arms of his son’s body in a crater. You peeped a single time as his head shot toward your direction. You made it exactly three more leg lengths before your husband dropped down in front of you.

You tried to keep from running into him, but your backpedal tripped you.

In a perfect tango maneuver, his hand caught your waist and you were tugged flush with him.

You hadn’t been this close of his violation in a while and butterfly wings beat against your insides as you looked up at him.

His gaze poured over you, still partially withheld, but opening up further by the second.

“You were listening to me and Shelly.” You told him.

“Yes.”  

“Did Shelly know?” You tilted your head.

“One can assume.”

“Did you two set me up?”

“No.” Donnie almost smiled, but caught himself.

“Shelly!” You called out. “Did you!?” 

“No!” You heard some earth shift and assumed he was pulling himself up. 

“You okay?” 

“Yup! Can we do that again?!” He cheered. 

“Later.” Donnie rolled his eyes and didn’t bother raising his pitch.

“You seem to like what I thought. About not rushing kids?”

Donnie evaluated you for a while before he looked off to the side. “Sound rationale.”

You reached up and placed your palm flat to his cheek.

He leaned into you. “I’ve been distant.”

“You needed to be. I always told you. It’s fine as long as you know I’m waiting.”

“Always…?” He turned up the end of his sentence with a raw tear to his chilled gaze.

“Always.” You agreed and tucked your fingers into his mask.

He gave a faint exhale and leaned down.

“You don’t have to force yourself to be okay. Even now.”

Again, his lips twitched like he might smile, but didn’t.

You thought that was enough.

He came closer until he was just shy of kissing you.

His reluctance to marry your lips meant something so you only watched him up close and let your hand slide down to his shoulder.

He liked the maneuver and felt comfortable enough for his eyes to shut as he took in your closeness.

You nosed into his airspace and commingled just like that.

The snow didn’t pick up and stayed little wayward flurries that would sometimes brush your skin.

Long after they dotted and melted against your coat did Donnie’s forehead brush yours and he gave the barest churr.

Your fingers spread out against his collar and you sighed contentedly.

“I’d like to continue our exercise in spontaneity.”

“Oh?” You breathed out and felt the warmth of it bounce back from his skin.

He nuzzled you amongst a slight nod.

“I’d like that. I like being close to you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t stay away.”

“You needed me.”

“I did.” He pulled so there was the pressure of your body against his. “Needed you close. Need you.”

“I’m here.”

This time when he nodded it was to lift his head.

“What’s left from your list? Double penetration?”

That finally got him to smile, but he squashed it.

You chewed on your grin.

“An entire mechanism for such, my present at the lab, and something new I’ve added as punishment.”

“Edging…” You hissed at your kryptonite.

Donnie only sent you a confirming look before he released you.

You took a few steps to give him space.

“Now?!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. chirped as he waited the same distance away.

“Run!” Donnie snarled once before taking off.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. squealed delight as he thumped away on bulky limbs. “Wait! This body sucks for this!”

“Too bad!” You heard a clunk of metal before you saw Donnie reach him. “I believe this is called: tag!”

“Tag…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s mouth line warbled and Donnie turned to run. 

“Tag! Mom! It’s tag!”

“There’s no tag-backs so…” You saw Donnie signal you for which way to go and you ran that direction.

“Tag!!!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. cheered before his plodding footsteps were sent in your direction.

💜 NEXT 💜

@tmntxthings is busy with life changing stuff and @thepinkpanther83 is sick as a dog! Much love to my precious betas in these trying times!

[darkdemeter]

Hi! Can I request the four horsemen reacting to an s/o who makes them hand Crafted Gifts (Like a lot of them!) Everything from protection charms,to mugs to portraits of them and their horses (prefferably a gender neutral s/o!)

Ty in advance and do take ur time!!

HANDICRAFT

◤✘DARKSIDERS COLUMN | Death/War/Strife/Fury x GN Reader

NOTES: ↳ This was a fun request to write for, I enjoyed it so much, thank you @screechinginthevoid and I hope you enjoy! WARNINGS! ↳ The slightest hint of spice? but mostly just fluffy, wholesome content

✎3.3k ──────────────── ◆

You always had a knack for creating things. Dabbling in this and that, you were raised on the ideology and principle that true gifts come from the heart. That the effort and love is what makes the present all the more special, sure, but it didn’t hurt knowing a thing or two about knitting a pretty snug scarf and hat during the whole apocalypse ordeal.

Losing your friends and loved ones did bring a dark cloud to loom high over your head constantly. Your love to create things for people had been robbed from you, leaving your set of skills as a means of survival. Until you incidentally bumped into the fabled Horsemen of the end times. From then on, and sticking to the four like a stray cat tagging along, they came to take care of you. 

And you found your loving spark to create gifts again. So…

DEATH

A gift. For him? 

“Why?” 

Poor, sweet… grouchy and sassy Death, like his other siblings as you come to find, doesn't exactly understand the concept of gifts that have no practical purpose other than sentimental value. The fact that every time he sees you, you’re nearly always making something for either him or his siblings. This occurs quite a bit, if not a lot. So in the beginning, Death was receiving a lot of gifts that you made, most of which he had little clue what to do with, so he’d cast them aside, muttering how humans were just as bad as the Makers.

The brand new scarf you made after having scoured the desolated Earth in search for the finest, softest fabric you could find, isn’t meant to help him ward off evil forces that seek imbalance? Well, if you don’t count warding off the age-old rag he was wearing around his shoulders for who knows how long. But hey, that’s just your opinion. 

You know deep down he appreciates the garb upgrade, very deep down, it’s one present that he hasn’t immediately disregarded, but he remains placid about showing any form of emotion that may be perceived as weakness. But the fact that he hasn’t tossed it aside makes your stomach flutter and your heart skip a few beats, seeing that Death can be fond of your hand crafted gifts. He’s just particular. Minimalistic, you could say. 

That doesn’t stop you from cracking the odd joke here and there, yeah you’ve seen him scowl and sigh in his dismay at the ever increasing numbers of little handmade bracelets on Harvester. 

Another example: mugs. 

Was not keen at all, but he slightly warmed – after some major prodding on your part – of having a special mug all his own whenever he and his siblings drifted through. The first mug you created was a hard effort won, since you were a little rusty with the pottery branch of your handicraft. With a finishing touch you painted the label: Bone Daddy. 

To this day he still doesn’t grasp the logic behind it, and with a scarlet blush, you brush off the subject entirely and invite him to sip from his brand new mug: Sass To The Bone.

When you first created a protection charm for him to wear as a pendent, this nephilim gave you the most critical and harshest lecture that you almost cried. He put teachers who demanded your overdue assignment to shame by a hundred levels. 

In the end, you sniff loudly with a pout and cry, “Just take it, okay?! I want you to be safe!”

Up until that point, you always approached him with a newly crafted gift with a bounce on the balls of your feet and a wide, bright grin. The sight ever so slowly wearing him down until he came to find it endearing how bubbly and excited you were to present a gift meant for him. To see you on the brink of tears with your confession sort of broke something inside him. Something he didn’t know he was capable of feeling and took the charm. 

It doesn’t bother you how he chooses to wear it, whether it be attached to the metallic limb of Harvester or threaded over to dangle alongside his wrist. All that matters to you is that he wears it somehow, assuring you that he knows how comforted you are in seeing it on his person. It makes you feel heard and that your love for him came from the heart when toying with potentially dangerous wells of magic just to ensure his safety. 

He’s risked himself to save you from danger many times. Whether that be because of his sworn duty to uphold the balance or some estranged level of love all his own; you find it only fitting that you return the favour – the want to protect him. And though unknown to you, he knows this. 

On the note of drawings, well uh… let’s just say you don’t want Death seeing those anytime soon, lest he questions your entire state of mind. Maybe you should draw a few tame ones sometime soon, so then he stops judging you everytime you hiss like a soaked cat and dive atop your sketchbook you left out the night before. 

But he’s mighty impressed with a painting you did recently of Despair, and you don’t know much about the rider’s steed, but you won’t put it past the beast taking a liking to it too. 

STRIFE

This nephilim has a treasure trove of your handmade gifts. Hands down. And he fucking loves it. So do you! Alright, at first, Strife was rather hesitant, but he warms to it quicker than his siblings, though it still takes a considerable amount of time, and dammit, this gunslinger soon begins a rule that each time you see each other, you either have a gift made or he gets to see the work in progress. No ifs, buts or look out there’s a demon behind you. 

Good news for you is that if you need a specific material or artefact to create something like a protective charm, he is on it. He will scour the known and unknown realms in search for what you need, and you’re more than happy to tinker away at the charm while he washes himself off in the shower, because whatever he had slain reeked a scent so foul you had to air out the entire house for hours. It did bother him at first when he discovered you were dabbling in magics so advanced, but you assure him you’re being careful and have been undergoing tutoring by the Makers. Though Strife would much rather you learn from either him, Fury or Death.

“Just be careful with that stuff, ok? I don’t want you getting hurt from it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief every time you see the little horse charm dangle on the leather cord attached to his scarf with a small, bone pin.

Overall, he is in awe that you make something to aid in protecting him when he’s away, and he adores the ever-living shit out of all your gifts and there is no force in all the universe that can alter that way of thinking. 

The first time you made a knitted beanie for him, he was reluctant to remove his helm, but after the amount of time you’ve known one another, through thick and thin, he trusts you. The way his golden eyes seemed to brighten even more made you realise in that moment how much you loved him. Of course, you couldn’t refrain from taking a polaroid of you both with him in his new hat and you make a copy of the photo so that he had a version that he can reflect on wherever he happens to be that’s away from you. 

Jealousy is a cute fit on Strife. From how he carries on and scowls childishly sure has its charm, and being envious of Death’s mug, Sass To The Bone, you once again try your hand at crafting a mug all his own. He finds it mighty impressive what you can do, despite the multitudes of failures, you’re determined. Strife’s pride skyrockets every time he sips from his printed cup, #1 Sharpshooter with two – dare you say terribly doodled variants – of his dual pistols. He gets a kick from his siblings reactions to his mug, but he just elbows you gently in the rib and mutters lowly, “They’re just jealous because it's true.”

Okay, so about those drawings. You drew a few of them, albeit you were very critical of these rare and few gifts, but Strife was intrigued and encouraged you to draw more. So you did, obviously, but still you mostly drew in secret… and he caught onto that. He’d first catch you scribbling away in your little sketchbook when either at home and he was relaxing, or if you both were out on some venture together. The way you’d poke your tongue out slightly and your brows come down in a concentrative manner. Oh, be still his beating heart. 

But then he caught sight of some rather tasteful, and less cladded poses of himself. The moment he whistled over your shoulder with a purred, “Oooh, what’re these?”

“Strife no—!”

He’d plucked the book from your hands before you could do much else, your pencil dropped to the floor with an echoing clatter that snaps the lead. 

You felt ready for Death to tuck you into a permanent sleep forever with Harvester. Because of the large and ever-world changing event known as the apocalypse, it put your school on persistent hold and you were in the midst of your visual arts major, studying nude figure art when havoc and calamity ensued. Ah yes, the fine artistry of studying the anatomy is a tricky one but also one of mystique and astounding beauty. 

“You know, if you need a model reference, you can always just ask,” he growls playfully with a fanged grin. All you can do is press the sketchbook to your flushed, burning face with a sigh. 

WAR

Maybe because he’s the youngest of his siblings, but you spoil this nephilim with gifts, though at first he was quick to brush them off with a cold turn of his shoulder or scoff, but over time you managed to worm your way under the thick hide of his stubbornness and the more he found it nye impossible to say no to you or your handmade gifts. 

It was an overwhelming occurrence for him to adjust to but now, he secretly finds himself almost excited to be given something new. You’re just a considerate human, always thinking about what you can make and give to others, he ponders to himself often if you stop and consider creating things for yourself.

“I make stuff for myself, don’t worry. Now, I made you these mittens!”

You may have a way of crafting, but you're still human. Making anything of considerate size to even fit this Horsemen’s pinky takes a good amount of time, so knitted wares only come around a rare few times a year. 

Despite being a volcanic mass of producing his own body heat, he accepts the mittens, the few scarves and other knitted accessories – and the very, very large sweater for Christmas. Making four of them had to be a major plan in the works a few years prior, it took that long. 

He finds comfort in the scarves mostly rather than actually any sort of functionality. Just dipping his nose to muzzle into the softness of wool reminds him of you and your scent that faintly lingers on it. It grounds him and gives him something to look forward to once his mission is done. 

He got defensive about it once when Strife dared to tease him. “You missing the human, little bro?” 

Geez, that’s the harshest glare that’s been inscribed across War’s features, and the witty gunslinger won’t be forgetting it anytime soon. 

He’s rather curious about your process and quite a bit, he will take a moment to study what you do, how you do it and will occasionally ask questions.

Every gift you make for War is precious to him and though he may not be able to carry them all with him, you ensure that they will be safely kept. Those that he does have on him, he will spare a moment when he can to look upon it, to feel it and to just bask in the knowledge that you hold him so near and dear to him. 

Humans and their traditions, War never really got his head around it, and his initial lack of knowing why you were presenting him with such offerings, only to be told that it’s just something humans do. You give each other things, especially those who you care about. 

“You care about me?”

“Of course I do, War,” you’d answer simply with a smile. 

Eventually making a mug for the red rider, you did get a bit too in your head about it. 

“It’s too small…,” became a mantra at this point as you morphed the pottery clay. Your so-called mug basically became a large bowl with a handle, let’s be honest. You at least had a bigger canvas to work with for the print and paint. 

And painting it was a beast! You decided to kill two birds with one stone, to really test your abilities and did a pattern of War astride his steed, Ruin around the mug’s perimeter. War’s fascination with the design never ceases to bring a smile to your face, sometimes you see him turning it over and over again just to watch the seemingly galloping images.

With your drawings, you just love doing portraits of War and Ruin. Out roaming together, you may catch a beautiful landscape and you call for War. “Stand right here with Ruin, I gotta draw this out!”

You save the largest sketchbooks for these two exclusively because there is no way you can contain so much detail into a sized down sketch. Nuh uh, you gotta go big or go home. Whether it’s a finished piece or just a quick sketch to have down for later, War is drawn to it, you notice the faintest blush dusting over his cheeks as he asks, “Could I keep it once you’re finished?”

For all that brawn, there is for certain a keen eye for detail. War notices all the finer points you seem to pick out, capturing just the right angle, the posing, he is definitely a fan of your artwork, especially when you give them to him. 

War has become quite the collector of your handmade treasures and he is honoured deeply by your affectionate gifts made from the heart, all for him. 

FURY

“Human— ugh, what is it you wish to give me this time?” 

Need more be said? In the beginning of this dynamic, approaching Fury was a very tricky gamble all its own. In fact, the first few handmade gifts you did make for her, you either would ask either one of her brothers to pass it off in your stead, or leave it in a spot which she occupied so that she knew it was for her.

Her face betrayed her obvious distaste for your human antics, often times she would sneer as she inspected whatever it was you made. 

Colourful, rainbow bands of friendship — perhaps your attempt of silently asking for her companionship — to knitted wares of a shawl to protect her from the elements. You believe she’s taken the latter gift well considering you’ve seen her on numerous occasions sporting it, and when you do point it out, her eyes thin slightly, narrowing in your direction.

“I-I just… mean to say, I’m glad you’re wearing it… it looks good on you.”

Over time, she’s become more comfortable about the concept, though at this point, you practically throw handmade bits and bobs at her and she’s forced to concede to it. Days where it’s just you and her lounging about your home, she may strip down from her armour and replace it with that sweater you knitted for her last Christmas, her reaction to it upon unwrapping it was priceless. A genuine, “You made this for me?” 

You could just hear the sheer surprise and dare you say it, amazement. She does appear to relax just the littlest bit when that soft wool wraps around her torso, and if you’re lucky, she will serve you with a compliment that brings a prideful hum to you and a smile.

With any sort of protective charms, Fury is wary, and she inquires exactly who, when, where and how. She wants all the details so she can make sure it’s safe, but she’s not opposed to taking over as your new teacher when it comes to the very advanced sort of magic. “Let me teach you, before you get yourself killed. Now what are you making for me this time?”

She knows that look in your eyes by now. That creative, human glint you get when your mind conjures up another idea. When explaining you want to make her a charm bracelet that will aid in protecting her, she doesn’t know what to say. For a powerful being such as herself, she doesn’t often take a moment to exactly assess the danger she’s about to pursue. 

The fact that from your perspective, you feel the need to somehow protect her, is… something of endearing to her. She’s still discovering herself but you two have known each other for some time now, she has become attached. Though she was nonchalant about it, she accepts and wears the bracelet always when out on a mission, and she is proud of your efforts and accomplishment to create a rather powerful artefact. 

Creating a mug for this nephilim was a bit of a challenge, but you settled on a more tea-esque style, a soft and round base and a bit of an intricate handle with a deep purple as it’s main colour, with accents of gold and white swirls in a marble design. She thinks it’s pretty cool what you’ve done and she enjoys sipping from it, flaring at Strife as he flaunts his own mug, she merely rolls her eyes. She knows she’s got the best cup, that’s just her opinion. 

“Um, Fury, I made this drawing for you.” With a tilt of her head and quirk of her brow, she took the handed piece of paper from your hands and… smiles? A genuine smile? She is rather critical of humans and their entire existence, how they plot along, seemingly living pointless lives; but she is mighty impressed with the rendition of her and Rampage overlooking the sunset on a cliff side you both had gone to about a month ago. 

“That is… quite talented, human. You drew this?” 

When telling her about your major arts degree before the entire world falling into a giant shithole of hell, you expected her not to fully understand or care, until you feel her hand rest on your shoulder. “You should keep at this art of yours. You have potential.” 

“Oh, er— thanks!” That was a boost of encouragement, no matter how lacking her tone was at the time, you know her better by now she isn’t the most forthcoming with her more intimate, softer side. At least not so readily. 

But you do. You continue pursuing your art and she does at times indulge you in being your model, as does Rampage, when he’s not trying to either run you over because he wants more pats and treats. 

Fury has amassed a private collection she will reflect on with fondness, her own little treasure trove of gifts that she’s come to adore; because they represent the kindness and love you put into them. 

———

Overall, your skills have expanded quite a bit, and these four may not admit it outright - might try and hide it - but they appreciate each and every single one of your gifts, and you: their little human. 

[madeholyy]

you & i ; leon kennedy / reader

and i'm not normally the jealous, jealous type. but if we're picking favorites than i am yours. [jealousy, requited unrequited love]

He wouldn’t admit it, but you could see it clear as day in his eyes. Or at least you think you could. Leon was quiet and focused, repeatedly checking on his hand gun like he didn’t believe it was perfectly fine. You fiddle with your combat knife between your fingers while stealing glances at him. No matter how many times you asked if he was alright he always gave the same excuse: It’s just Ashley. But it wasn’t. He was worried, but his mind was occupied with something else— someone else. It wasn’t any of your business, but the haunted look swirling about the solid blue in his eyes was your ghost as well. She might as well wrap her gloved hands around the column of your neck and squeeze the air from your lungs with the aftershocks she sent through you both. An appearance from an echo of another time, another place.

And the silence was the worst part of all.

It gnawed on the marrow of your bones and made a home in your chest. He barely acknowledged any attempt you made at a conversation. You wanted the sky to open up and swallow you whole; break every bone in your body and tear you so finely apart you were nothing more than stardust. Maybe you’d come back as a hurricane or an earthquake. Maybe you’d unleash your anguish and heartbreak in a fury of raging winds and seismic waves. You didn’t care what you’d leave behind in the wake of your destruction, everyone else be damned. What mattered was the aftermath. The peace beyond satisfaction as you wither into nothingness. But you weren’t a devastating storm, you were just devastating. And it hurt to feel so small with someone who made you feel so warm. Leon never talked about her much, but he confided in you enough for you to know whatever you guys were was in jeopardy if not already damaged beyond repair. His demeanor only solidified the fear.

Then he stood up and you watched his every movement right down to the way his shoulders rose and fell in rhythm with his breathing. He holstered his gun. You faced the knife blade down between your thighs and dug it into the wooden chair beneath you. He avoided eye contact. Your knuckles turned white from the sheer force of your anger-turned-suppressed-sadness. Did you even exist to him right now?

“Let’s get goin’.” His voice held firm, but you felt anything but. Standing up after him, you slide the knife back into its sheath wrapped against your thigh. You figure a small hum in response would suffice. Before walking out behind him, you glance back at the window that is wide open and clench your jaw. Then you swiftly turn away.

You suppose you should have realized Leon wasn’t serious about you two. All those flirty exchanges and nothing to show for them. You had thought this was just the usual talking stage, but perhaps he never planned for it to go past that. Of course, why would he? With a woman as beautiful as her it would be no competition. You follow him through a hallway in disarray with only a single room at the end of it. Chairs, tables, and other furnishing items were shoved up against the walls with no regard. Inside the small room was nothing special, but you looked around regardless. The fireplace was lit and wood burned and crackled within. There was a table with books and cups strewn across it with chairs around it. You stepped forward, placing your hand on the book that rests at the end of the table. Your eyes scanned over the pages and you barely noticed Leon attempting to press on.

“You could let me get a good look around before you rush me.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your voice dull of emotion. He seems a bit taken aback by it, but his expression melts away into something more his speed; neutral.

“We have more important things to do than read.” Leon holds your gaze and you roll your eyes only to abide by his pace in the end.

His hand reaches out for you. You look up at him from the ground, cautious and hesitant, but accept his help. You didn’t realize how badly you had been smacked into the stone wall until he examined you from behind.

“That’s gonna make a nasty ass bruise.” He scoffs, his demeanor different all of a sudden. You’re quiet, studying his face for a sign. Your lack of reaction causes him to stare back with something almost unreadable then his gaze drops to your lips and back up to your eyes. There’s something soft, but you’re so scared of his soft. Quickly looking away, you roll your shoulder back a few times and groan.

“They pack a punch in here… I hope Ashley is okay. I know they wouldn’t—“ You pause, inhale, then exhale, “Let’s just fine her.”

Leon keeps his eyes trained on you and you alone. He makes you feel naked under his stare; vulnerable and exposed. There’s a beat then he’s matching your steps down the path before you. It’s so painfully awkward, but you only have yourself to thank for that. It would’ve been easier to play the stupid, oblivious second choice as you assumed he’d want you to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to be selfish in a job that forced you to be only selfless. You wanted him in every possible way and so painfully wholeheartedly it made you want to cry. So badly it felt too heavy on your chest and you struggled to breath against the weight of your wants. What did you have to do to be enough? The pain rushed through you in quick succession. You were thankful Leon was behind you or he’d see the way your lip quivered as you fought back tears the welling in your eyes. 

Leon never promised a future together. He never even let you get your hopes too high. It always hurt knowing he wasn’t all in like you were, but you accepted it nonetheless. Now you feel foolish. You couldn’t convince someone to love you.

Ashley was elated to reunite with you both after Leon comforted her. You stayed back guarding the door, unable to look her in the eyes. She would know something wasn’t quite right with a glance. It was a talent you weren’t anticipating dealing with. Ever since you had both located and saved her, Ashley was keen on asking you questions about your relationship with Leon. You wouldn’t give clear cut answers, but the way your cheeks dusted pink and you tried to hide a smile, Ashley knew. She would be able to spot it a mile away. The older sister-younger sister dynamic came easily between you two as you were relatively close in age to begin with. It was sweet, but also terrifying how she could pinpoint your thoughts with accuracy. Maybe that was your downfall. You wore your heart on your sleeve and Leon kept every little thought and emotion locked up tightly. He wasn’t stoic by any means; capable of laughing, smiling, and joking. He was just…guarded. Way better at it than you were. If she couldn’t get answers from him she could get them from you. It was easy to tell yourself that talking about how you felt made it somewhat better, but then you’d have to admit what you avoided. You’d have to tell Ashley she was right all along. These were words you weren’t sure you could say.

There was a knock on the double door behind you. A signal that he and Ashley were finished talking. Once you had walked in, Ashley ran up and hugged you with all her might (which was surprisingly a lot). Her head easily rested against your shoulder due to you both being very similar heights. You, of course, embraced her back and the lump in your throat came back. Warm, comforting…it was what you needed most with your conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The moment was broken by Luis on Leon’s earpiece. You and Ashley slowly pulled away from each other as you watched. From what you both could hear it sounded as if Luis was in quite a predicament. You frowned, but there was a hint of amusement in your eyes at their interaction. The transmission is cut short and Leon’s face is contorted in annoyance.

“Can’t believe that guy.” He scoffs, doing one last sweep of the room for anything remotely useful before your journey continues.

“He’s in trouble. We can’t just leave him, right?” Ashley was not fully separated from you, concern glistening in her eyes. She was sweet, but Leon looked exasperated having to come to Luis’s aid. He was an interesting guy despite his past dealings and you couldn’t lie about feeling distrusting of him, but he made you laugh and it was hard to not like someone who did that. You join him in taking a quick look around before he pushes the door open to reveal a hedge maze below. You lean against the railing, pulling your rifle off your pack and situated in your hands. You peered through the scope. A lone Colmillo stalked a pathway across from your group.

“Fifteen?” You asked.

“This isn’t even a fair bet.” Leon huffed a small laugh, crossing his arms as he watched your target. You hummed, taking aim and watching for a moment to catch the creature off guard. The second he stood still your finger squeezed the trigger and a loud shot rang out across the maze. His body fell limp to the floor. You leaned back and Leon whistled, ruffling your hair. For just a minute you forgot why you were even upset and welcomed his gentle touch.

“Alright, write it down. I owe you fifteen bucks.” He playfully rolled his eyes at you. When his back turned, you watched him saunter off down the steps with his handgun ready. Ashley glanced at you.

“Did he do something?” Her voice was soft and gentle as if you were a cornered animal. You hardly realized the frown on your lips and the way your eyebrows creased together. His retreating form made you feel empty. Loneliness thrived.

“Let's not fall behind.” You smiled in her direction, but it never reached your eyes. Now it was Ashley’s turn to frown, but she complied.

Your knuckles turned pearly white as you gripped the golden bars of your cage. Your eyes were focused on the balcony above you where Ashley had been taken. Leon hurried to unlock a door, but was interrupted by another call on his ear piece.

“Ada?” His voice speaking her name caused your stomach to plummet far, far down— or at least that’s how it felt. Every nerve in your body trembled as you bow your head against the bars. The conversation seemed brief as not a minute later he was calling out her name frantically then sighed. You couldn’t even stand the thought of looking at him. It seems that’s all you have felt this last hour; unable to confront the one person you should be able to trust the most.

“C’mon— Hey, are you alright?” His hand barely grazed your shoulder before you whipped around and stared at him with wide eyes. He seemed stunned himself, holding his hand in the air, mouth agape. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move. The ache in your heart and the burning in your lungs. Your chest feels heavy and constricted and you could only watch as he lowered his hand and waited on your cue. But there wasn’t a cue. You wanted to scream at him, but you also wanted to run off alone and scream until your throat was raw and bloodied. Attracting the attention of the castle's inhabitant did not matter, but thinking rationally wasn’t on your agenda currently. You bit the inside of your cheek and inhaled a trembling breath.

“...I’m sorry. I just…” But you couldn’t finish your thought or rather your excuse as none came readily to mind. It should’ve been easy to blame the things you endured, but that wasn’t it. And even if you were to voice the real reason you would feel idiotic. Leon was in mission mode and didn’t need a lovesick girl making a scene while the President’s daughter was snatched from their hands.

“You haven’t been acting like yourself. One moment you’re talking to me like normal and the next you’re— You seem so angry.” Of course he would pick the worst time to wrangle the truth from you. His eyes were so sincere, but his features weren’t soft. There was determination dancing in his tone as he spoke.

“It’s just this whole mission.” You were quick to excuse yourself, but Leon followed.

“Is that really it?” He brushed his fingers on your elbow, but you refused to look back at him. You’d kill for one of those Zealots to interrupt this moment, but God wasn’t so kind.

“I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but everything is so fucked up. I’m just not doing so well.” It absolutely murdered you to seem so weak and vulnerable to something you both had been groomed for, but it was easier to use that as an excuse than confess to being head over heels for your partner. Of course, it wasn’t like Leon hadn’t already blurred that line. He proved it in the way he stepped around you to stand face to face once more. You didn’t need to look up to know exactly how he was watching you. In fact, it was better you didn’t. One look into those mesmerizing blue eyes and your anger and sadness would waver. It was so easy to forget when he looked at you like that. Leon cautiously raised a hand and wrapped it very gently around your elbow, caressing the material of your black long sleeve. The fabric had already been snared by a close call with a Zealot and his crossbow. He could make out the vibrant blue and purple painting the soft skin of your arm. You were littered in battle wounds and deep bruises.

“We’ll handle this the same way we always have. Together.” He was soft spoken and reassuring. It only made you want to cry. How could he be so kind when breaking your heart?

“Yeah…yeah. Let’s go find Ashley.” You finally matched his gaze with a meek smile. He was hurting you and didn’t even notice. Leon was ever the oblivious type unless you made it apparent. He looked over you with confliction as if something was stuck in his throat and he didn’t know how to say it. His hand fell down your arm, fingertips bumping against yours as if he was attempting to muster up the courage to hold it. You could feel your heart rate speed up at his simple gesture. You quickly cover the lower half of your face with your hand and turn away from him.

“I said let’s go find Ashley!” You sped walked over to the room that opened up beside you guys earlier.

“As you wish.” He huffed a laugh and you could just hear the smile. He knew he had gotten to you.

The mineshaft was damp, musty, and smelled heavily of rockdust. You sat next to Leon as he flexed his arms, watching the limb very carefully for any protruding veins. Luis proudly leaned against a structure. You wished you could finally breathe a sigh of relief that the suppressant worked, but Leon was a ticking time bomb. Any moment the infection could regain control and the symptoms would resurface. How long did he have until then? What measures could you both take to hold it at bay? You were overthinking and thinking overall was bad, you knew that. If you thought for too long you would eventually break away piece by piece until nothing was left of you but brittle bones and teeth. Your heart was shattering for a man who would not give you his eternity.

So you did the next best thing: walk away from the problem— literally. Feigned the desire to strategize while he recovered and hid away between wooden crates and empty drums. It wasn’t home, but you could breathe. The ache in your chest and lungs subsided as you drew your knees to your chest and wrapped your weary arms around them. Held them as close as you wanted to hold him but he longed for the embrace of another; a woman dressed in red and confidence. An image of her face flashed through your exhaustion riddled mind and you simpered. You were a kettle ready to shriek from the pressure that built deep within. Only your shrieking would be a spectacle. It would be tables turning, glass shattering. You would not go with grace for that was admitting a defeat only you knew of. Was letting go even possible? Leon left a scar on you that would never fade and every fall you’d see him in the fog like a phantom of the past. He was inescapable. And you wanted to be selfish anyways, hold onto him like he’d dissolve into ash if you let go.

“You look…stressed.” A familiar voice startled you out of your thoughts. Eyes wide like a deer in headlights, staring up at Luis as he held your attention with his signature smirk. You scoffed, stretching your legs out while he took a seat beside you.

“That’s an understatement. All this Plagas bullshit is getting on my nerves.” You fibbed through pearly white teeth. The words felt bitter on your tongue and you were unable to hold his gaze.

“Is it really that?” He asked. You froze. Your expression remained neutral, but Luis could feel the confliction radiating off of you like body heat.

“Is that answer not good enough? I know I’m bad at lying, but have some sympathy.” Your words spilled from your lips with a tremble. Your voice cracked into a whisper as if you strained to maintain composure and perhaps that was precisely the struggle. A question. It was simple and you could have lied again. But you were weak and he was honest.

Luis sighed, smiling softly to himself while looking at the ground, “I’ve spent my whole life mastering that and you can’t fool a professional.”

Now you were fraying at the seams. Every emotion bloated in size and threatened to burst. Heavy was the weight you burdened yourself with. Droplets fell like pearls on the floor of the mineshaft, collecting dirt on its spherical surface until it popped and soaked in. You looked up for a brief moment wondering if the ceiling was leaking only to discover you had begun to cry. Ducking your head down again, you pulled the hem of your sleeve up your palm and used it to dab the tears streaming down your face.

“That was kind of corny.” You sputtered a laugh and sniffled.

“Corny? I think you’re just embarrassed and don’t want to admit it.” He was right, but you refrained from answering. Instead, you inhaled deep breaths as you patted down your damp cheeks.

“I guess you can know, but it’s a secret between us.” It was meant to come across as humorous, but you sounded pathetic, “It hurts. Ya’know, being in love with someone who belongs to someone else.”

Luis didn’t interrupt. He also didn’t belittle you for how you felt. He sat there, listening attentively, and occasionally nodding along so you knew he was still listening. It meant the world and more to you. Had Ashley been here you knew you’d have broken down the same way in front of her, but she was so far away and you were so fragile. Luis was a shoulder to cry on; something you needed for a long while. 

“I don’t really know the specifics, but…maybe you’re not looking at it from the right angle.” Luis merely suggested and you could hear the struggle in his words as he chose what to say very carefully. It made you laugh again.

“Hey, we ready to go?” This time, Luis was startled as well, but he hid it quickly behind a cheshire grin. You looked up to see Leon a few feet away. In the dim lantern light, he appeared holy. If you were to believe in something, you’d believe in his divinity. Something godly walked among men and you weren’t the religious type, but you didn’t need to be. Shaking your head gently, you stumbled onto your feet. Leon watched you cautiously. You knew your eyes were red and puffy, but you merely walked past him to the path forward. It took awhile for you to realize they had fallen behind, but the further away you were from him, the more at ease you felt. 

If looks could kill, yours would be lethal. In fact, you spent the entire boat ride avoiding absolutely any eye contact with Ada. It was awkward and Leon was tense. You expected him to make his move here, but that was more so your imagination. As soon as Ada had left and the boat stilled at shore, you leapt forward to grab his arm. You don’t know what came over you. It was almost on instinct you attached yourself to him. Leon looked down at you, eyes filled with bewilderment. The waves crashed against the rocks below you both, filling the silence with ambient sounds. When he fully turned to face you, you pushed yourself off him and heaved a shaky breath. 

“Leon—”

“This is about Ada, isn’t it?” You paused, snapping your head up to meet his eyes. It was like he gave you permission to combust, word vomit everything you had been thinking and feeling the entire time.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” It came out close to a whisper, but you tested the waters with it.

“Hey now—” But he was effectively cut off as you picked up a rock and threw it at the boat with all your might. Now he was just confused. This didn’t stop him taking a step back as you found more ammo to unleash on the one thing that did absolutely nothing to you. You pelted it with stone after stone, grunting at the force with which you launched them. It was the same cycle of scour and attack until you became noticeably feeble with your hurling.

“I hate—” The rock hit the very front and left a noticeable dent, “—her so much! I hate that you love her!”

Then you crumbled, meekly tossing the rocks now with no strength behind them. It was cathartic at first, but quickly became meaningless in the face of heartbreak. You were now a shell of your red-hot anger; a bright flame dwindling in the rain until the glowing embers were burnt out. For the first time since this feeling settled on your stomach, you sobbed inconsolably. You covered your mouth with your palms and leaned forward to curl into yourself and released a scream muffled against your skin. It hurt. Everything hurt and you wanted to puke so hard your intestines fell out of your mouth. You wanted to be gruesome and unsightly. You wanted to be swallowed whole by absolutely anything at this point. Unrequited love was too much to bear. Ashley was gone. Luis was dead. You had no one to lean on while you wept so hard you began to choke and gag. The arms that wrapped around your trembling form were so warm and, even if it was Leon’s, you were desperate for comfort.

“Please, please don’t pick her over me. I can’t live with that. You’re not allowed to break my heart like that. You’re supposed to fall for me.” Your hands came up to grip the material of his black shirt, “I want you, Leon. More than anything and if you pick her, then you pick wrong.”

Your conviction was solid. It had to be you and no one else because who better to understand exactly what he was going through than you? The world could end tomorrow, but all that would matter was that he wanted you more than he ever thought of her. You both could fail this mission, you could become parasitic with the rest of them, but you would know he loved you more. It was a simple choice. You or her and you hoped to god he would choose you any day in any lifetime. 

Leon was silent, however. His grip never wavered, but he was in deep thought. Then he pulled back from you and you lifted your head. He leveled his gaze with you. There was something unreadable on his face. His touch was ever so gentle and you swore you would melt if he were any softer. One of his hands reached up to caress your cheek with calloused fingertips. You shuddered, leaning into his touch. As you closed your eyes, you pictured spring and flowers and his smile belonging to you. It was perfect and so were the lip brushing against yours as your eyes fluttered open. There was no time to react; you could only accept his lips pressing against your own in a gentle kiss. There were no sparks, no fireworks, only something akin to the gentle warmth of a fireplace. After what felt like eternity, he pulled away.

“It wasn’t like you gave me a choice anyhow. The moment I looked in your eyes for the very first time, I was fucked.” He chuckled, thumb brushing against your supple cheek as he leaned his forward against your own. You could hardly contain the tears of joy that flooded you now. It felt almost too good to be true, but sometimes that is just the way it goes.

“Good because I was prepared to give a whole speech about it.”

“Powerpoint, too?”

[darkworkcourier]

Der Waidmann - König/gn!reader

Content includes CNC (reader and König agreed to the scene beforehand, but please be mindful of this), chasing and pursuit, fighting, choking, dryhumping, clothed sex, and aftercare. Reader is gender-neutral and not physically described in any way except for some clothing.

(This is very, very inspired by @toxooz's incredible art over here.)

---

It's freezing. Real, bone-deep kind of cold that feels more like a liquid soaking into your clothes. You shiver, tucking your hands back into your sleeves, folding the ends of the sleeves over and clutching the bunched-up hem in your fists to try to keep the worst of the chill out.

Building a fire is out of the question. It's a waxing moon tonight, and the moonlight would easily catch on a column of smoke. The smell would travel. Worst of all, it could calm you down and lull you into dropping your guard. The cold may be brutal, but at least it keeps you awake.

Warm thoughts, you repeat in your head. Even your mind's speaking in whispers, afraid to raise your mental voice like he'll hear you somehow. So you think about cups of warm tea and curls of steam—the image a silent tableau. You imagine the smell of it, the sensation of steam damp on your palm as your hand hovers over the cup. In your mind's eye, you see your hand reach out for the handle, and—

Crack.

You freeze.

Cold crawls up your body, an animal slithering with glee as the warmth of motion fades. Fear is its climbing partner, equally frigid—except it enters you, curls like frost in your belly, grips your vocal cords in a steel-cold claw. The only thing that dares to move is your heart, beating traitorously loud.

Every sound in the forest seems magnified now; leaves rustling loud as gunshots, the wind whistling through the branches at a screaming decibel. You listen for footsteps, for any sign that you're being followed.

There's no way to tell how long you stand still. Your feet ache, your skin itches with the cold, your shoulders stiff and sore. Moonlight filters through the high tree canopy and dapples your skin like a fawn's spots, and you imagine your stillness makes you seem like part of the forest. At least, you hope that's true, that whatever follows you is just as fooled by the accidental camouflage.

If it's still following you.

You wait a moment longer; how long is impossible to say. Long enough that you don't hear another human-made sound aside from your own stilted breathing and reckless pulse. Eventually, you decide it's safe to move—to proceed to safety, wherever that is.

All you manage is one step.

One step, and then there's cold steel at your throat; the flat of a blade, collaring you, rendering you frozen once more. There's no bite of the business side, but you know better than to try to get out of the loose hold.

Then, from behind you, close to your ear, you hear, "Careless."

You have only a second to register the voice, to check it for familiarity and run it against the repository of people in your mind. A second isn't enough, and suddenly you're struck from behind, an arm against your mid-back that knocks you to the ground. On instinct, your hands go out to brace, just as the knife's yanked away and mercifully doesn't catch you. Pain lances up your arms as you hit the dirt, twigs snapping and scratching your face. The air is knocked out of your lungs, and even in the dark, you see twinkling sparks dancing in your vision.

The impact also disorients you, and another rough shove to your side sends you sprawling onto your back, unsure which direction you're facing or where to look. You see stars blinking through the tree canopy—they whirl like pinwheels as you try to get your senses back to normal.

Just in time to see the glint of a blade and the flash of two eyes in the darkness.

Fear overtakes reason—the animal sense of freezing up, accepting the end as it approaches with furious speed and deadly accuracy, the immediate surrender of prey to predator. You gasp and screw your eyes shut, like shutting down one sense will somehow dull the others.

Instead, it makes the dull thunk beside your head all the louder.

Silence follows. Not oppressive. Not stifling. It's the strange silence of the forest, active and alive, yet completely uncaring of your situation—the silence of being ignored. You catch the sound of your attacker's breathing, hard pants filtered through fabric. When you finally do open your eyes, you see him as a silhouette over you, and only then do you register his weight over your hips, his arms on either side of your head. When you manage to turn to find the source of the strange sound beside you, your eyes adjust to allow you to see the assailant's knife driven into the earth with enough force to bury the blade to the hilt.

"Fuck," you breathe out, your first spoken word in hours.

Then you reluctantly turn your attention back to the attacker. You see now that he blends in with the forest, his enormity covered in vines and leaves on a ghillie suit. There was no way you would have spotted him earlier.

He seems pleased with himself, judging by the way his voice rolls out of him in a purr. "Any last words?" he asks.

Before what, exactly? Before he throttles you to death, or chokes the life out of you? You almost mean to ask, but the cold grip of fear is starting to ebb, giving way to the primal need to fight, to escape. He has the size advantage, clearly; however, you're fast, and you know there has to be a way to buy time with the advantages you do have.

"Just one or two," you say.

When he leans in to hear you, the smug victory rolling off him like the heat you can feel through your clothes, you wait. He gets closer.

Closer.

And you immediately reach up with both hands, thumbs pointed, directed toward his eyes. Whether or not you actually hit them, you can't tell. You feel something warm, and then that lively silence of the forest gives way to a bellow of fury. He instinctively reaches up to either grab at you or shove you away to protect his face, but seems caught in split-second indecision. You take that brief second for the blessing it is, scrambling out from underneath him and taking off at a clip through the forest.

There's no doubt he's in pursuit. You don't need to look over your shoulder or stop to listen to know this. Furthermore, you can't spare the half second you'd need to check, as you need every increment of time available to get as much distance between you and him as possible. The overarching goal isn't clear yet—there's no base to run back to, no hiding place you know of, no miraculous weapons cache to raid. You're defenseless, save for what your hands and feet can do, but you're not planning to roll over and admit defeat quite yet.

So you run. You sprint. Every breath burns, every blister on your feet screams in protest. If you manage to live through the night, you'll certainly need more than a day to recover.

Yet you're also running night-blind. The moonlit forest floor is an illusory carpet of false elevation and strange textures. Over and over, you catch yourself from tripping, from running directly into a downed tree or a large stone. The only thing you can possibly count on is that he's in the same situation, running through unfamiliar territory with only his instincts to guide him.

Possibly count on does not mean definitely count on, though.

Because you're suddenly struck from behind again, a hard impact to your spine that sends you sprawling. The only consolation is that you manage to twist around and grab him on the way down. You hear a grunt of pain as both of you fall, and you hiss in response when a tree root catches your ribs.

Unfortunately, you're more dazed than he is. While you have to take a second longer to get your bearings again, he's back on you, this time holding you down with one enormous arm on your throat, cutting off your air supply with terrifying efficiency.

"Clever, Kaninchen," he snarls. You can't see him, but you imagine he's baring his teeth, biting out the words like a wolf snapping its jaws. "But I'm not foolish enough to let you go twice."

It's a threat he's clearly capable of enforcing. You struggle underneath him, your lungs aching, fingers weakly clawing at him as though your effort might be enough. The forest grows darker around you—a black curtain falling onto you during your final act. The animal resistance flares just once more, nails digging into his skin, legs trying to kick up; it's all for nothing.

Suddenly, his arm lets up. You're flooded with frigid air, causing you to cough and sputter as your vision practically whites out. Everything fucking aches, and you try to reorient yourself around the bare fact that you're somehow alive after all this.

But then his hands go to your shoulders, pinning you to the cold earth, damp seeping into your clothes and hair. You wince and hoarsely bark out a protest, but whatever sound you aim to make beyond that is promptly drowned out the moment you feel him change position—his legs move so they now bracket one of yours, and he rolls his hips against your thigh.

For a spare, dizzy moment, you think you hallucinated the sensation. Then he does it again, with a little more force. He grunts, breathes heavier, leans down so the fabric of his hood brushes over your face. You smell sweat and dirt on him, and something pungently metallic—blood, maybe. He ruts against your thigh again and again while his weight presses down like a hydraulic force on your shoulders, causing them to ache horrendously. Yet the pain feels like a background suggestion as you marvel in the sensation of him humping your goddamn leg. He's obviously hard, his arousal more than present against you, and he quickens his pace so it becomes all the more obvious.

Your voice is pathetic, but you manage a baffled, "What?"

Only to be met by one gloved hand over your mouth, the smell of gun oil reeking in your nose. "Ruhig," he snarls. You can feel the heat of his breath on your face through the hood. "Stay quiet or I'll make you."

This threat doesn't feel as forceful, but it could simply be dulled by your own confusingly persistent arousal matching his. Every thrust of his hips has you gasping against his palm, your own hips moving on their own accord.

Obviously, he notices.

His pace stutters once and you see the silhouette of his head move a little. Then, he laughs. It's low, starting deep in his chest before rising in pitch. It then tapers off in an amused sigh. "Enjoying yourself, Kaninchen?" he asks, although the teasing tone is blunted by the way he redoubles his pace on your thigh.

You can't nod or shake your head. All you can do is breathe hard through your nose, small moans breaking loose from your better sense.

"Thought so," he says, then hisses on a particular thrust and drag.

For a long while, that's all there is. You beneath him, feeling him fuck himself on your thigh, his breathing staggered and quick, while you fight back your own arousal even though it's a losing battle. All thoughts of attempting to survive beyond this little rendezvous fade out, and in their place are fantasies of him pulling down your pants, fucking you properly, teasing you to the brink of madness while still wearing those gun oil-stained gloves.

His hips suddenly jerk, and with the motion, you hear him draw in a sharp gasp and let out the air as a grunt. Once more, twice. Then you feel him frantically chasing his orgasm as he pins your leg to the dirt with his full weight.

He's going to come just from rutting on your thigh, completely clothed. Holy shit.

You groan against his glove as you feel the friction burn on your leg, then the ache of him holding you down with his hips. He bites off another loud moan, then lets it loose as a primal growl that sends shivers down your spine before they dissipate as hot sparks in your belly. You feel a new heat, damp against your leg, as he comes harder than you've ever heard or felt anyone do before.

You lay there, stunned, his hand still on your mouth, but one of his fingers half-worked between your teeth. You can taste leather and something bitter, and before you can explore that any further, he suddenly takes his hand away.

There's a sweep of air, scented with pine and frost, then sweat and blood—and then there are lips on yours.

And teeth sharp on your bottom lip.

It's over as quick as it begins. A fae kiss, fast and sharp enough to confuse and startle you, before leaving you wondering if it happened at all.

Then he's off of you, his otherworldly silhouette as tall as the trees around it him, it seems. You have only a moment to stare up in something like awe, at the speckled starlight haloing his head. Then, in a voice like a scrape of earth and a crackle of broken ice, he says, "Run, Kaninchen."

And you're off again.

---

"I am so sorry— Fuck, is that another one? Is that from my hand?"

The narrow cubicle of the shower is full of fragrant steam, but mostly full of König's sheer size, cramming you into a tiny tiled corner. His hands frantically hover over your skin, finding old and new marks before he frets over them.

Not for the first time, you wave his hands away. "It's fine," you tell him once more. "I would have said something if it was too much."

"But it was too much," he replies quickly, and immediately, his hands are back. They seem magnetized to your throat, finding where he nearly choked you out.

And your hands are on his arm again, although the gesture is far less frantic than it was in the woods. "I asked you to do that part," you remind him. "I like choking, remember?"

König looks wounded, even as the water drips off his hair and cascades over his shoulders from the showerhead level with his upper back. "I know," he concedes, but he doesn't sound pleased about it.

You reach up and stroke his wet cheek, finding a bruise on him from your thumb. You found out after the scene that you did get him in the left eye, but just jabbed the lower part of the right socket, giving him a solid black eye. Your apology was less repetitive, but nonetheless heartfelt. "It was fun," you reiterate. "Yes, I'm sore as hell, and I feel like I could sleep for a week, but I had the time of my life out there."

"Running from me," he groans, lowering his head to rest on your shoulder. You roll your eyes and reach up to hug him, even if the height difference makes it difficult.

"Oh, and you totally didn't have fun chasing me down."

König's quiet for a moment, before you feel him sigh against you and nod, just a little. "Ein bisschen," he mutters.

You grin and turn your head to kiss his cheek, delighting in the sensation of him leaning into it. "Tell you what," you say, stroking up and down his spine, your touch careful as you're mindful of where he said he was sore. "You can make it up to me by being as gentle as humanly possible once we're back in bed."

You can feel him smile against you, his arms going up to wrap around your waist.

"Absolut," he replies. "I'd like nothing more than that."

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Izzy Ship Alignment for S2

Spoilers for if you want to avoid s2 Izzy talk. (minor spoilers for the S2 teaser, and the interview Con did last December) PLEASE disagree with my rankings. I would love to know how y'all feel about this.

I saw someone online reference the tiny interview Con had last December about Izzy's direction this season. Where it's referenced that Izzy understands himself emotionally, and is a romantic in a unrequited love.

I thought the obvious, 'Oh, Izzy/Ed, Izzy recovers from that'. BUT someone on TikTok mentioned how funny it would be if it were an unexpected character he ends up with.

SO I made this outcome chart:

The vertical columns: How it would affect the story. In a Chaotic way, a neutral way, or a 'lawful' way where I feel that it benefits the world/story around Izzy.

Horizontal columns: How bat shit I would go. Evil = I will never emotionally recover, THE DRAMA. Neutral I'm having a lovely time, and enjoying the ride. Good= YES! CHARACTER GROWTH!!!!

This is not me ranking ships, but the general vibe they bring to the plot we can see from the trailer. EXPLANATIONS DOWN BELOW.

Lawful Good: Single, but happy: This is where I predict s2 will end off. It's smart. Izzy is out of an emotional relationship where he's under his boss. He's finally free. He can be happy and single, or go into S3 looking for someone.

Neutral Good: ButtHands: It wouldn't change much in the story, but overall I'd think it's fun. Purely for the confusion of it all. They don't like each other...and yet.

Chaotic Good: Blackhands: It would change a lot in the story, and I wouldn't recover. Especially if it's just an unemotional one-off that leaves Izzy devastated. I don't think it would work...but the character growth???? Unmatched.

Lawful Neutral: Ouizzy, I love it, it's really fun, and it wouldn't change all that much in the story. It wouldn't force Izzy to change too much, besides maybe being kinder. Frenchie gets another bodyguard, and the banter would be fun.

Ture Neutral: Jizzy. They are almost the same person but Jim is supported by someone in their lives. I don't personally see it, but I do see that these two would get on together. Mild changes to the story, and I'd be satisfied with it.

Chaotic Neutral: SteddyHands: COULD YOU IMAGINE. A mainstream tv show with a poly couple as leads? And it's messy as fuck? It would take another season to set up, likely introducing Stizzy this season, and ending it off in the middle in S3. But it would have major consequences in the story, and I wouldn't be well after.

Lawful Evil: Rizzy: Izzy is able to be his tired, overworked, and violent self with someone who gets that at some level. It moves the plot forward while also being a badass scary couple.

Neutral Evil: RETROACTIVE CALICOHANDS WOULD HURT. Ngl, finding out Izzy sent someone he kind of cared about would affect Izzy's story, but not the overall plot. I wouldn't recover, Izzy would have a big regret arch, and I'd write fix it's.

Chaotic Evil: Just Stizzy. A freshly 'single' Izzy leaves Ed, and goes to find Stede, but oh no. Stede genuinely wants to get better and be loyal to his crew. Izzy finds himself falling infatuated with his boss' ex. Stede still loves Ed and is going to find Ed. But Izzy just has to chew on his lip as he falls for his Captain AGAIN. Stede needs to figure out that you can love people in different ways. We get a messy love triangle and STEDE is in the center. I WANT THIS. I won't get it. BUT WHAT IF.

[I forgot Lucius/Izzy, but to me, it sits right at the True Neutral or Chaotic Neutral. It wouldn't change too much in the overall plot. It shows huge growth for both people. The only reason it would be Chaotic is how Izzy would be perceived by the crew]

[trash-gobby]

Hi, I found out that you take requests about Legend. So my request is this: Darkness x reader NSFW.

The reader (neutral gender or female, you can decide) finds out that its brother was capture by the goblins. So the reader dicides to save its brother but after it enters in the Great Tree and reaches inside, it meets Darkness. Darkness seduces the reader and... Sex time ahahah

For the time of this events... I don't know. I hope this is sufficient and sorry for my English 🙈

Summary: The reader seeks to save her brother from Darkness's clutches, but taken by her beauty, Darkness has other plans for her.

A/N: Bruh, this took me over a year to write and I haven't written porn in a looooong time. Hopefully this isn't to underwhelming.

Word Count: 6.4K

Parings: Darkness X Fem!Reader

Characters: Darkness, Reader

Citrus Scale: 🍋

RATING: R 18+

⚠️This is an 18+ post because of the NSFW!!! That means I DON’T encourage anyone who interacts with NSFW content who is underage. I’ve talked to other people who’ve been long time content creators and users of this website and I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not your parent and can’t control what content you consume.

Detailed warnings under the cut

⚠️Warnings!: fingering, rough sex, table sex, overstimulation, a little bit of cockwarming at the start, some orgasm denial, creampie? (bro I can't think of another term it's 3am), biting, scratching

______________________________________________________________

Columns towered over you, casting huge patches of shadow which made you feel small and insignificant their wake. The ceiling was so tall that you felt that perhaps there was no end to it, as it melted in to a black abyss the further you looked up. It felt like walking among the world of giants, or a world that used to be inhabited by them, as everything was covered by a couple layers of dust and cobwebs.

You couldn’t help but be slightly afraid as you made your way further in, having to remind yourself why you were here under your breath. That somewhere in this maze of darkness and cruel magic, your brother was waiting for you, or at least you hoped he was.

He was so young, kind, and innocent. Not a little boy who should be trapped in a place like this, taken hostage by a beast that you’d only heard of from the village storyteller who’d tell the tale to all the locals who would gather around the his campfire at night.

As a young children you’d all huddle together as close as humanly possible to the fire, letting the heat slightly burn your skin, the orange glow shadowing the old man's face. The hard lines and liver spots becoming even more prominent in the light. He looked menacing, and you supposed for a story like that, it was just how he wanted to look.

In a low haunting voice he would tell the tale of how Princess Lili and the Unicorn. How she had wanted to touch this sacred animal, and in the process set herself up to plunge into the darkness. To be seduced by it. The story took many turns, and you had found yourself in rapt awe, fear and something strangely more illusive. Something you dare not name aloud, for you found it shameful. Pleasure.

However, the fear was what was most prominent in your mind as you finally made your way up to the gigantic double doors that you hoped lead to a clue to where your brother might be. The stone of it looked cold and heavy, almost like it was made for a giant with strength greatly out-matching yours. However, when you laid your hand against the cool surface of the door, it was like it sensed you physical presence. The air rushed through your hair and over your simple tunic and pants as the door slowly opened.

The sound of crackling and an orange glow met your eyes and ears. Slipping into the room, some more squat columns greeted you again: squat and looking like they were sprouting from metallic leaves which embraced their base. The stone tiles were littered with the remnants of falling passing into the winter, dead leaves and dirt.

As you made your way slowly into the room, you took in more of the atmosphere. Everything was bathed in the soft orange glow of a large and ornate fireplace. It would have been comforting if not for the huge stone carving of a demon, depicted holding what looked to you like a trident, sneering down at you. The light also elongated the furniture, of what little there was, and columns, making it look like anywhere there could be someone or something hiding just out of sight in the darkness.

There was a large amount of open space in front of the fireplace which led up to a long banquet style table, which only features some equally gruesome candelabras. The bodies of them were gothic in style and onyx black, all sharp edges like the teeth of a wolf. By far the most eye catching thing within the room though, was a mirror standing to the left of the fireplace.

Although all the furniture seemed to be made for someone twice your height, the mirror felt like it was at least three times that. It had the similar macabre design to the other furniture, but even more elaborate.

The frame had an elaborate folding curtain carving all down the left side of it, making the mirror seem more like a window then what it appeared to be. The right side had intricate carvings which were mesmerizing in their design. As you walked further into the room, your desire to run your fingers over the whirls and edges.

Finally reaching the center of the open space of the room in front of the fireplace, you felt the warmth of the fire and it's soft crackling and pops from the wood. Every sound echoed throughout this vastness of the room, into every dark corner. You turned around in a circle, letting your eyes scan all the corners of the immediate area for anyone who might be hiding just out of view.

When you came back around to facing the mirror, you could see what was reflected back at you: a frightened young girl playing at hero, hoping that it would pay off. Hoping that if she musters up enough courage to use the dagger at her hip in order to get what she wanted. You almost felt like laughing at the toddrey display of false confidence you had been so earnest in cultivating up until this moment.

Then you noticed something, something out of place in the reflection, behind you in the background of dancing shadow created by the flames playing off the columns.

At first you thought it was a statue, tall and sculpted, but it didn't match the stoney grey and bronze quality of the decor. The arm of the statue was a crimson, leading up to black flowing fabric. Your eyes lingered up this arm to a pair of eyes glowing a greenish-yellow hue in the dark.

What stood just a few meters away from you in the dark was something large and alive. Stepping into the light, you gasped, turning to face the giant man. Could you even call what stood before you a man? More of a man-beast which had come right out of the fairy tales told around that storytellers fire.

You backed up quickly, tripping over yourself and slamming your back heavily into the glass of the mirror. Your eyes hadn't left the figure who was advancing on you.

He was almost as tall as the mirror itself, broad and muscular with skin a bright crimson. His chest was laid bare in order to give the impression of just how capable he was of crushing anyone who would dare try to face him. Legs seemed to be just as strong, though they were mostly covered with black handmade bottoms.

Giant horns protruded upward from either side of his head, and his face was at once both handsome and gruesome in appearance. As he stepped forward heavily on his hoofed feet, Darkness smirked down at you.

"What has this night brought me? A lost little lamb perhaps? Separated from its flock." You tried to square your shoulders and seem more intimidating than your miniscule stature made you seem.

"Trying to be brave? You must be here for a reason instead of just stumbling into my halls." He chuckled softly at this display, sizing you up with his sparkling yellow eyes.

"I...I'm here to get my brother back," your voice sounded so small echoing off the walls of the large room. The voice of a being which could so easily be broken under the hooves of this giant before you.

"I know why you're here," Darkness began to move slowly, and you tracked him with your gaze as he started to circle you. It felt like you were a helpless rabbit being sized up by a hungry wolf before it pounces.

"While you were busy coming to save the child, did you ever stop to ask..." He paused a moment, somewhere behind you, causing you to look over your shoulder in order to see what had made him stop.

"What he did to be taken." As you turned your face to look at Darkness, you're met with his. So close you can feel his breath on your face, count the teeth in his sly grin.

You step back, startled, grasping for the dagger at your hip. As your hand closed around the leather hilt of the blade, drawing it, Darkness moved quickly catching your arm in his powerful grip.

Vice-like, you winced under the pressure of his large hand wrapped around your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat before coming out in a whimper between clenched teeth.

"I wouldn't do something so brash little lamb, you might hurt yourself," you felt paralyzed. His hold on you was solid, immovable. When you tried to pull yourself free, it felt like you were stuck, unable to even move your arm an inch in Darkness's hold.

"Let me go," your words seemed hollow, devoid of any intimidation.

Moving slowly with his free hand, you flinched slightly as he closed his fingers around the blade and yanked the dagger free from your grasp as if it was nothing. only then did he finally let you go, standing to his full height and stabbing the dagger into the side of one of the columns.

It fit perfectly into the stone, which shocked you. Surely the blade should have broken on impact, but it was like the column had parted around it.

"Why don't we sit and discuss this over a meal? No need for these hostilities. They bore me." You followed his hand as he sweeped it over to the table you'd noticed when you'd first come in. Where it had been bare of anything but the candelabras, now it was full of plates of food.

Your stomach ached, making you realize just how much time had passed since you'd first set out on your journey. The last time you'd eaten, it had been an apple and a couple pieces of bread a day away from your final arrival at your destination.

"How do I know you haven't poisoned the food?" You asked, looking back to Darkness as you did.

"If I had wanted you dead, you already would be. And why would I waste such interesting company?" The smirk he gave you as he said this had something else hidden behind it. You could see it in his eyes, raking over your body, meeting your eyes and holding your gaze for a long pause.

You wanted to feel disgusted. Men in your village had looked at you in a similar way. When they were coming home from the local tavern drunk at night and walked by you on your way home from working late in the fields.

They would give you that look, the look so common among men when they'd stare at women they desired. A mix of desire and contempt, like a child who desired to covet the last sweet all for themselves. Although childish, there was a predatory danger behind that look which made you always slip into a dark sidestreet before men like that could even catch sight of you. Hiding from the potentiality of what could happen if they decided to act upon their visible dark desires.

However, in this case, for some reason, Darkness's gaze didn't make you more afraid then you already were. It didn't make you want to turn and run. You felt ashamed that not to deep down, it made your stomach flip in a way which wasn't unpleasurable.

Turning, he walked over to the head of one end of the table, pulling out the large high-backed chair and looking to you again as you stood there.

"Please, dine with me. Let's discuss this without fighting. It's been a while since I've had a guest." What could you do but slowly make your way to the chair he'd pulled out.

As you moved to sit, he pushed in the seat behind you, like a gentleman. The whole display would be rather funny, the devil being a gentleman and inviting you to dinner, if you weren't still a little terrified.

Coming around from behind the chair, Darkness reached out on the table for a large jeweled bottle of wine. Without asking he poured the dark red liquid into the goblet in front of you, before walking over to his own seat and pouring his own glass.

Once you were both seated at either end of the table, you felt a little more relaxed. The distance of being at either head of the table was far enough that it gave you a false sense of security.

"What shall we toast to?" Darkness addressed you raising his glass with a quirked brow.

"What?" You were taken aback by this strange situation. It hadn't really fully dawned on you just how much he'd been trying to distract you from your goal.

"What shall we toast?" He repeated.

"I... I didn't come here to dine with you. I came to get my brother." As you said this, something dark flashed behind the composure of Darkness. Perhaps his patience with you wasn't as limitless as it seemed.

"My dear, we will get to that all in due time," the words were spoken less with his smooth sounding tone he'd been taking with you. This tone was all teeth. You decided not to push it, raising your glass tentatively.

"To making acquaintances?" Your statement came out as more of a question as you spoke. Darkness seemed to pause as you said this, before smiling.

"Yes. To making new acquaintances," You both toasted your glasses unable to touch, instead gesturing in each others direction before taking a sip.

You winced slightly at the rich taste. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was unlike any of the wine you'd ever had before. Only ever having had cheaply made wine in the tavern with friends, you'd been used to the sour poor flavour. This was rich and oaky in taste. Pleasurable to the mouth.

Looking down from your focus on the contents of your goblet, you were shocked to find a silver plate before you. A lamb shank, seasoned with delicious smelling spices, mixed vegetables and potatoes lay before you, making your mouth water. Where it had come from was your guess. There were many things about this strange place which made no sense to you.

Across the table Darkness had also gotten his own food. A large leg of lamb. No vegetables to be seen, which didn't surprise you. A beast such as him, it made sense that he would be exclusively carnivorous.

"So, tell me... Why would you come here all alone? Wouldn't you want to bring some strong warriors with you little lamb?" Darkness asked as he used his utensils to cut a healthy chunk of meat from the leg.

"I.. They're coming. They just got delayed by the swamp," It wasn't a convincing lie. You wanted to smack yourself for how stupid it sounded coming out of your mouth.

"You are not a convincing liar. The truth is written all over your face. Your little village was to afraid to help you." You didn't know what to say to this, looking down at your plate.

"I feel for you little lamb. It is hard to feel abandoned by those who you're supposed to rely on." Looking up from the plate, you met his eyes from across the table. He seemed sincere, with a tinge of sadness.

"They said it would be to dangerous. That I should consider my brother as good as gone-"

"And you weren't willing to give up, not on someone you loved. Not on family." He interrupted you, leaning forward across the table slightly.

"Yes. I-I suppose I should ask what my brother did to be taken," You held Darkness gaze as you said this, reaching for your own utensils and started to cut into the lamb shank in front of you.

"Mmm. Yes. That." Darkness took another long sip from his drink, looking up to the ceiling as if he could find the words for how to tell this story somewhere up there.

"He was in the forest. But I'm sure you knew that already. There he came across something one of my servants had left unattended, the fool." At this, Darkness snarled, almost slamming his own goblet down on the table, making you jump in your seat.

"Sorry. I don't intend to frighten you. I just ask so little of those under my service. Yet they still disappoint me. Your brother took this object of mine, and for that I had him taken in return." You were confused by this. Your brother had always been a gentle soul, someone who wouldn't steal, couldn't. Not without feeling extreme guilt afterwards.

"Please, tell me he's still alive, that you haven't harmed him."

"You think I'm some kind of monster. That I would just murder a child," Darkness said through bites of lamb.

"I've heard the stories about you. Slaughtering armies, eating babies, seducing unsuspecting women," you had begun to wolf down more bits of food as you mentioned this, almost casually.

"Only two of those are really true, and neither is the devouring of infants," he chuckled at your little ravenous display.

"They say all sorts of things about me in the little villages that surround my forest. Rarely are those things ever as true as they appear. I don't seek destruction, only order in a new form. I don't take anything unless something is taken first from me, and I don't give unless it is desired of the recipient," Your eyes met his eyes across the table once again, and as he finished the final sentence you felt yourself flush slightly. Betrayed by your own body.

He was attractive in an animalistic way, that was undeniable. The defined masculine nature of his face, its wicked yet alluring qualities, his strong muscular chest laid bare for you to see. The fact that he didn't care if you saw him in this near naked state, it was enough to be slightly arousing to you.

You wanted to fight this more than anything else. The urge to feel for him, as you had when you'd first heard the story of him and Lili. How he'd seduced her to sin.

"What do you desire, lamb?" You felt like he could read your thoughts, like he knew that your mind had wandered onto the dangerous path of lusting after something that could never be, should never be.

"I want you to let my brother go."

"I will, in due time. I have what he took, I was only curious if anyone cared enough to come for him. He made it seem as if no one would." Darkness admitted taking one last sip of wine.

"But he knows I'd come for him. I'd never just leave him," you felt a little bit of sadness well up. The fact that your brother had thought no one would want to come looking for him was disheartening. And in part he was right.

You were the only one who had come to look for him. No one else had been willing to, they had all considered him a lost cause. Perhaps they even thought you were just as lost, not seeing a point in coming to look for you either.

"He will be happy your here. I will take you to him when we have finished here. He isn't being held in a prison. He's a guest here like you." This was all well and good, but you weren't sure you believe this fully. Was this all to good to be true.

"There must be a catch to this. I can't imagine you would just let us walk out of here," you focused on Darkness as he took in what you were saying.

"I just wish for company. Two nights and two days, then you may both leave. I only ask for someone to talk to, to share my thoughts with," Once again, his eyes seemed to wander, like he wasn't sure how to frame what he was trying to say. It made you feel like he was perhaps struggling to express what he was feeling.

"Your lonely." It wasn't a question as much as a statement, and you hadn't even realized you'd made it until you noticed his eyes had fixed back onto you.

'I-I didn't mean to cause offense," you said quickly.

"No, no you're right," Darkness said raising from the table, pushing back his chair. He took a few steps in the direction of the fireplace, his back to you. The glow of the fire catching the red of his skin, making it glow softly. You could read in his skin, every curve, sharp angle, broad and soft. It stirred something deep in the pit of you.

"I've been alone for a long time. No one to speak with. No one to share my company," He looked over his shoulder, catching your gaze on him, the way you seemed just as hungry for him as you had been for the lamb.

"No one to touch," turning fully, Darkness walked back over to stand in front of you, towering high, looking down into your eyes.

"You never really answered my question little lamb," he said, his voice seemed deeper, more soft as he said this, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I don't know what you mean," you mumbled, still completely focused on the man-beast before you. How he was looking at you, the way his breath seemed more heavy than before.

He reached down with one of his hands, thumb and forefinger resting against your jaw and chin. You felt deep down that you should draw away, not let this monster who had kidnapped your brother touch you. However, his touch was so gentle, rubbing your skin, making you shiver.

"You never did tell me what you desire," his voice was like silk against your skin.

"What I desire?" You sounded punch-drunk to your own ears. His fingers trailed your jaw, down to your neck where they lingered.

"I can see it written in your eyes, you desire more then just to see your brother home safe." As his fingers made their journey lower, they caught on the front ties of your tunic.

You stopped him before he went further by laying your hand over his. Darkness didn't pry, didn't try to push you beyond your means. He simply kept your eye. You could see the desire burning in him. What he wanted.

What did you want though? What were you doing? Why were you allowing him to touch you like this?

Deep down you knew all to well why. All those nights of wondering and dreaming those sinful dreams. Desiring him without thinking it would come to anything. Knowing now that those dreams were within your grasp.

His hand was warm in your grasp, so whole and real. Pulling it to your lips, you kissed his palm gently. You couldn't put into words your desire for him which had laid dormant, but now had been fully ignited. Instead actions felt like the best way to express what was starting to burn deep in your core.

Darkness used his free hand to cup the side of your face, leaning down so that his face was level with yours. You could see every line, every curve of his face, the passion which was evident in his eyes.

You could feel the heat of his breath on your face. It didn't smell unpleasant like you would have expected. Instead it smelled the earthy flavor of the wine you'd been drinking.

As he placed his lips on yours you could taste it. His mouth was softer than you expected, and when he kissed you it made your head spin.

It slower, gentler than you thought it would be. He pulled back from you, allowing you to catch your breath.

Suddenly he grabbed you, causing you to yelp. He lifted you like you weighed nothing. Darkness body was flush with yours. You were able to feel how strong he was, every muscle in his torso.

As your hands traced his arms, you could trace the contours of muscular frame. He was so much stronger than you, so much bigger. You knew if he wanted to, he could break you and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

For some reason the very idea of this, made you feel aroused. There was also the fact that you could feel through the limited clothes which Darkness wore, his massive bulge.

Once again, his lips crashed into yours. His teeth were sharp, but somehow he managed to nip at your bottom lip without drawing any blood. He was gentle, yet the more he persisted, the rougher of he became.

You moaned as he pulled away to start kissing your neck. Those kisses soon turned into love bites, teasing and pulling at your skin. His ministrations were causing blood to rush to your face and the ache in between your legs to grow pronounced.

Supporting you by your thighs, Darkness walked you over to the table and pushed aside the plates and candelabras to make space for what was about to occur. Placing you prone on your back, he leaned close over you, meeting your eyes again.

"Little lamb, are you ready to get what you truly desire?" husky, his voice felt like liquid amber making shiver run down your spine, and between your legs wetter.

"Darkness... Please," you were beyond the point of no return and all you wanted was to be satisfied by this beast of a man. He chuckled, delighting in your small plea.

"What do you desire?" he asked for the third and final time.

"I want you," your words came out in a keening whine, body hot with desire. Darkness smiled. A mixture of smug self-satisfaction at finally getting you to admit what you wanted.

He leaned in and layed kisses on your neck again, making you moan. Licking and nipping at you, and then proceeding to suck on the sensitive pulse point of your neck.

As he continued his ministrations with his mouth, his hands wandered up your body, ghosting over your clothed stomach.

You felt that aching anticipation as his long clawed fingers finally reached the ties on your tunic. Darkness pulled away from your neck, and you knew from the way he'd been sucking and nipping at your tender skin, that there would be at least several bruises left behind.

You held your breath as he slowly pulled the ties free, pulling back the light cotton. Goosebumps pebbled your skin as it was exposed to the air of the room. Your nipples were already hard from him teasing your skin. Darkness took notice of this, using a thumb to tease one of your nipples, sending pleasurable sensations through your body and making you let out a sharp breath.

Dipping down, his mouth meeting your other nipple, tongue flicking it experimentally. The sensation was even more pleasurable than his thumb making languid circles.

Seeing the pleasure written on your face, Darkness latched himself on and sucked gently, savouring your gasps. Using his long tongue, he circled the bud slowly, before nipping with his sharp teeth.

The hand working your other nipple started to wander, as he continued working you with his mouth. Tracing his claws softly down your stomach, before reaching your bottoms. They were light and stretchy enough that you knew he could slide his hand easily down between your legs.

However, he kept teasing your skin just above the waistband. It felt like butterfly kisses, the way Darkness would barely ghost his claws over your skin.

It made you quake inside with anticipation of what he would do next, even though a good portion of your focus was still on him licking and sucking your breast. You were close to begging him to do anything to sate your now aching arousal, desiring to be filled with all he desired to give you.

Slowly he finally began to slip his fingers under the waistband of your bottoms. Instead of dipping lower, he started to pull on your pants, sliding them down. Darkness pulled back from teasing your nipple in order to focus on getting your pants off.

They slipped off easily, making you feel even more exposed than when he'd removed your tunic. All that separated your wetness from the air, was the thin material of your panties.

Slowly, he lowered himself, kissing the center of your chest. Moving downward to your stomach. His hands lightly traced the inside of your thighs, trailing a road leading closer and closer to the last bit of clothing on you.

As Darkness made his way down with his mouth, his fingers finally reached your panties. One of his clawed fingers traced a rhythm on your inner thighs, as he used his clawed forefinger to trace the band of your panties. Quickly he used the sharpness to snap the band, before quickly tearing away the flimsy fabric.

Large rough fingers traced your lips, actively avoiding you clit. Teasing you, he experimentally traced your opening, coating the tips of his thick fingers in your juices.

Whining, you tried shifting your hips, trying to get his fingers to rub against your swollen aroused clit. However, he was tactfully able to evade your attempts. Using his free hand, Darkness pressed down on your stomach to push you down, chuckling.

"Patience. Good things will come at their own time," like honey, his voice poured over you, sweet and smooth. He wanted to make you suffer and to writhe under his control, that much was clear.

From the satisfied little grins he would make whenever his touches made you gasp or groan, to his careful movements across your body. He'd avoid certain spots, leaving them until last, drawing out the anticipation of pleasure.

Coating his fingers in your juices thoroughly enough, Darkness seemed to finally be ready to give you just what you wanted. Trailing his thumb up, he lightly ran it over your sensitive nub.

The sudden sensation made you flinch slightly from the sudden contact before letting out a small whimper. Being teased for so long by him, had made you so aroused you thought you might be brought to release if he touched you again.

He was patient, letting you adjust and taking his time before touching your clit again. Darkness was light and soft, starting in a circular motion, keeping you close, but not quite close to the edge of release.

As he set a comfortable pace, which had you biting your lips and gasping lightly, he inserted his forefinger slowly into you. His hands were large, and so were his fingers. Stretching your walls, Darkness was careful with moving inside you. Even though he had quite sharp clawed nails, he was gentle. You could feel the length, the notch of his knuckle as he adjusted to your tightness.

Working his thumb, building up a steady rhythm. You could feel yourself slowly coming undone, with the intense sensation of him rubbing your clit with that now pleasurable burning feather-light touch. This was coupled with him working his finger inside you, causing that coiling tension to get tighter and tighter every time he hit that one spot.

It felt so wrong but so good. Knowing that he was so big, his presence so dominating. Looking up you met his gaze, piercing and focused on your every subtle expression. Written on his face, you could see the pleasure he was taking in seeing you lose yourself to his ministrations.

Noticing your gaze meeting his he gave you a knowing smile. He could tell how close you were. That you were about to reach your peak. Just him fixing his enticing bright yellow gaze, with all its illicit unsaid implications was enough to bring you right to the edge.

As if he knew the tension built up had reached it's height, Darkness withdrew his hands from you. The sudden absence of the sensations drawing you to your climax, made you groan in a shameful combination of annoyance and desire.

Darkness chuckled, looking over your body, tracing every curve and flushed bit of vulnerable flesh. He then let out another deep chuckle.

"You're really desperate for me. I can see in your face, your body." Reaching out one of his hands, he lightly traced your cheek, slowly. You wanted desperately to lean into his touch, but you felt heavy with the built up pleasure.

His finger inched its way to your lips, moving over them lightly, before slipping between. You let him, sucking at it lightly, tasting your own juices. Locking eyes once again with him, you watched how heavy his breath became, the smile from something mischievous to a look of pure unbridled lust.

The sound of cloth shifting, you looked down in time to see Darkness, undoing his robe with his other hand. A thrill ran up your spine as you saw the outline of his cock against the fabric as he fought with the fabric.

When it finally dropped to the ground, you saw what was in store for you. His dick was big, going from a lighter shade at the base to a little darker near the tip. Some precum leaked coating the top and running dribbling a little down the ways of his length.

Removing his finger from her mouth Darkness brought his hand to hold her hip, as he used his other lined up his cock with your entrance. He rubbed his cockhead, against you, adding again some stimulation to your body once again.

Coating himself in your fluids, mixing with his own, rubbing them over his length. His teasing was almost unbearable, feeling the slight throbbing of desire in your core to be filled.

He must have known what you desired, as he stilled his movements momentarily before pressing his tip to your wet aching opening, sliding slowly in.

Using his hand he had used to tease you, he rested it again the surface of the table to gain balance as he pressed further into you. With every inch you felt filled. It was painful, yet you didn't want it to end.

The sensation of every throb and vein sent a twinge of pleasure through you. Leaning down, Darkness brough his face close to yours, allowing both of your heavy breaths to intermingle.

Letting out a low almost primal growl, the large devilish man bottomed out. Never before had you felt so utterly stretched. Darkness had stilled in order to let you get used to his size, and while it was painful, it was less so then you expected.

Knowing you should feel ashamed, or at least disgusted by what was transpiring had fallen to the back of your mind, all you wanted was for this man, this beast, to fuck you. However, Darkness had other plans, staying still as stone inside of you.

Desperation started to set in and you tried moving in order to create some delicious friction. Instead, being stopped by Darkness hand on your hip tightening, holding you still.

Letting out a frustrated noise, only served to make the man laugh softly and lean in so his mouth met the shell of your ear. "Are you comfortable?" His voice was almost mocking, smug.

You just wanted him to move at this point. Being filled like this was making you so aroused in the most frustrating way.

"Please." In response to this desperate plea, Darkness leaned in further, pressing down on you, lightly nipping the sensitive skin of your neck playfully. Before he finally gave you what you wanted so badly.

Inch by excruciating inch, he pulled himself back until he was nearly fully out of you. The emptiness was only momentary though, before burying himself back into you setting a brutal pace.

Darkness was merciless with his thrusts. At first it was painful, but that was slowly being replaced by the building tension in your core.

The way he gripped you tight, claws digging into your skin, sure to leave marks and his mouth finding your throat only served to heighten your desire.

All the shame and fear had been washed away and replaced with passion brought on through flesh meeting flesh. The lewd sounds which your bodies made as they met serving as a symphony for your conflicting emotions finally being forgotten.

Now all that was on your mind was having this beast of a man ravage you forever, to have this sensation of such pleasure brought on through every roll of his hips causing him to hit that sensitive spot within you.

If you'd known being seduced would include feeling like this, so utterly free. Only letting your mind focus on the sensations of Darkness cock pounding into you, his teeth skimming the skin of your neck, it was all becoming to much.

A pleasurable burning sensation had started to build again, announcing your climax was imminent. Moaning and wrapping your legs around Darkness waist, you tried to match the thrust of his hips.

You could tell he was getting close himself, as his pace picked up, the table creaking slightly as he pounded you into it brutally. There would be bruises to go along with the claw-marks on your hips.

His frantic movement kept pressing girth right into the perfect spot to bring you right to the peak. This time you were going to get to fall of the edge.

You cried out as Darkness allowed his teeth to sink into your neck, bringing pain once again to the overwhelming pleasure sending you over the edge. It felt like a damn breaking as you came, clenching around his length, body twitching.

Darkness pulled his face back from your neck to admire your body as you came, still fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes filled with predatory lust focused onto yours. Bringing one hand to your throat, he squeezed lightly bringing his lips crashing down onto yours.

Pumping himself still at a fast animalistic pace, growling into your mouth. Then he thrust as deeply as he could into you before releasing himself inside your walls.

You could feel the hot spurts of fluid deep in you, painting your insides. So much of it.

Pulling away his face from your own, he looked once again into your eyes. "I suppose we should negotiate your brothers return to your village. You I might find harder to let go of."

[sea-owl]

because I'm a sucker for violet x portia. how do you think portia would comfort violet (or vice versa) when penelope is discovered to be whistledown?? just something that I randomly thought of 🤔

In actual show wise, it's gonna be interesting because they've been shown to be foils of one another since season 1.

But using the shows background and add in some romantic/sexual tension between the two this is probably how I would frame it.

Violet wasn't so sure this was a good idea, wasn't sure she would be welcomed after tonight's dinner announcement. Not after the way Portia had slipped her hand out of Violet's when Colin had announced to the two families that Penelope was Lady Whistledown.

There had been anger at first, of course, Whistledown spared no family in the ton when it came to her column. That included the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons. What surprised Violet, though, was the neutral mask Portia held as she stared down her daughter, asking for an explanation. Portia refused to let anyone else, but Penelope speak then.

By the end, the tension was broken by Kate and Simon, who joked if Penelope had any desire to write about Bridgerton foolishness, especially Anthony's, again to please consult them. Anthony's jaw dropped at his wife and best friend. Kate and Simon defended their position, saying Penelope was one of them, a Bridgerton spouse, and now she gives them an edge since they're still outnumbered. This led to rounds of laughter. Violet herself was proud of the girl, her cleverness was truly something.

Violet had just barely caught Portia hugging Penelope before slipping out the door.

Violet had followed after, now slipping into the baroness' chambers.

Portia was sitting at her vanity, pulling out the pins in her hair. Her only acknowledgment of Violet is the brief glance of Violet's reflection in the mirror.

"I'm not mad at her if that's what you're wondering," Portia said, still not looking at Violet. "I am actually rather proud of her."

Violet walked up behind Portia, taking over to remove the pins. "But you're still hurt."

Portia sighed. "It was a tough situation back then, I did what I believed was right at the time, as did she."

Violet didn't need to ask what Portia was referring to. Penelope's first season, where she chose to save Colin from a loveless marriage and a lie even if it led to the downfall of her own family. It had taken a while for Violet and Portia to go back to them to go back to being friends. It actually wasn't until this year that the two matriarchs rekindled. A huge part of that being Portia reminding Violet that she was not so innocent when it comes to saving her family. After all, Berbrooke still has not shown his face since Violet unleashed his secret so that it would get back to Lady Whistledown.

"It just wasn't until that moment that I realized how like me Penelope was. I love my girls but we did not have the support system to be vulnerable. Tough choices have to be made, I tried to make sure they knew that."

Violet stayed silent. She knew she had a chances and a certain privilege that other girls of the ton did not have. She was raised by a loving father, she had a love match. Most of her peers had marry for convince or business deals between their parents and their future spouse. Portia was one of them.

The hair pins were now laid against the vanity. Violet rested her cheek against Portia's head, arms wrapped around her shoulders. Portia took one of Violet's hands.

"Do you want me to leave?" Violet asked.

Portia shook her head, her grip on Violet's hand tightened. "No."

"Okay," Violet whispered. She moved just so to place a kiss on top of Portia head.

[polskasroka]

Ghostober Day 14

Welcome to Day 14 of Ghostober created by @kroas-adtam!

Pairing: Rain/Phantom

Main tag(s): Suits/Uniforms

Additional tag(s)/cw: none

Word Count: 1034 words

Read also on ao3!

Phantom was on his way to Rain’s room, tightly clinging onto what Papa had asked him to tell the water ghoul. One could say that the young demon was clutching onto the thought as if his life had depended on it and he was more than intent on passing the message forward. He ignored every other Sibling of Sin or ghoul that he met, no matter whether they just wanted to say “hi” or they had some actual business for him.

Once he knocked on the door, he nearly barged inside, not waiting for an invitation. Phantom may have not been in the lair and on the surface for too long yet, but he’d managed to get very close to Rain nonetheless. Since there was no one in the room and there were sounds coming from the en suite bathroom, the quintessence ghoul decided to wait a little while, repeating the message from Papa in his head.

Phantom sat down on the bed, nearly vibrating on his spot, impatient to finally tell Rain what he had to tell him. His ears perked up when the bathroom door creaked and the figure of the water ghoul slid out, revealing the tall and lanky body dressed in something that made Phantom’s jaw drop.

It was the stage uniform.

It wasn’t that Phantom hadn’t seen it yet because he had. He just hadn’t seen it from this close. The message from Copia quickly fled his mind as it got filled with the sight of Rain dressed in his nearly military-like outfit, only his helmet was missing. It didn’t matter. Phantom was happy because he could stare at that pretty face all wide-eyed, causing the ghoul in question to tilt his head in amusement as he walked over to his guest.

The gesture made Phantom compose himself and close his mouth that had fallen agape. The tip of his tail twitched and there was a spark in his eye that Rain recognised from afar. He decided not to fall for it just yet, so he simply strolled over to Phantom as if nothing had happened.

“I thought you’ve seen these clothes already,” Rain said neutrally.

“I have,” Phantom retorted, fast as light. “Not on you, though.” He gripped the sheets in his hands and then let go, his tail swooshing atop the fabric.

“Well, now you have!”

Rain smiled and gazed into Phantom’s eyes innocently. There was something far from innocent brewing in his vivid purple irises and in one rapid move, he was before Rain, gripping the lapels of his jacket and pressing his lips against the water ghoul’s. Rain chuckled at the eagerness as he let the smaller demon push him up against a wall and devour him, snaking his forked tongue into his mouth.

A soft gasp that left Rain’s mouth had Phantom tremble with desire flooding his senses and he held even tighter onto the jacket. It didn’t last long, for he soon let his hands travel down along the lapels and Rain’s shirt underneath. Phantom moaned, huffing air out of his nose straight onto Rain’s mist-covered skin. The quintessence ghoul then pulled back a bit, only to lick Rain’s lips and smirk against them, causing the taller imp to watch his moves with growing interest.

Phantom kissed along Rain’s jaw and grabbed the water ghoul’s crotch, eliciting a slightly startled groan from him. He started rubbing his stiffening member through the fabric, which made Rain keep his mouth open as he kept letting out small exhales, smiling all the while, flashing his sharp white teeth. A trill reverberated in Phantom’s chest that had Rain throw his head back and expose his throat and gills to Phantom.

The quintessence ghoul didn’t waste even a second as he latched onto the bare skin and began to leave wet kisses, nips and licks along the column of Rain’s neck. His hand sped up as well but he soon abandoned the motion to undo Rain’s pants instead.

“Rainy,” Phantom muttered against the taller ghoul’s gills as he got him out of the confines of the rough fabric and wrapped his hand around his half-hard dick. “Rainy, if you’re planning to perform in this…”

“I don’t have any other choice, do I?” He sniggered and let out a strained sigh, pushing his hips forwards out of pure instinct.

“Then expect me,” Phantom purred and stood on the tips of his toes to lean close to the water demon’s ear, “to fuck you after each. And. Every. Show.”

Rain moaned hoarsely as the quintessence ghoul emphasised his words by very precise and thorough pumps of his fist. The sensation spread tingling warmth all over Rain’s underbelly and the bottom of his spine, causing his legs to tremble and his muscles to flex. He also tried to squeeze his butt both to bring himself some more pleasure and stop the slick from slowly dripping out of his hole.

“Something’s the matter?”

“I guess I’ll have to– ah! Wash these pants, you know?” Rain mumbled and swallowed, feeling Phantom’s breath on his gills.

“Why?” He licked one of the wet slits as Rain shuddered underneath him. “Soaking through them already? That’s how wet you are?”

“It’s your fault, I–!”

Rain’s voice faltered as Phantom kissed his gill and sucked on it, stroking his cock even faster in the meantime. It took the water ghoul by surprise, since he didn’t expect himself to get this close this fast. He blamed the heat of the moment and Phantom’s sudden eagerness for that and soon afterwards, he was deprived of his whole ability to think clearly.

The wet and hot laps of Phantom’s tongue against his gill felt even better than the friction all over his now leaking shaft. He shifted on his feet again, failing to prevent arousal from trickling out of his ass and down his thighs. He blushed a deep indigo and mewled, shivering, his muscles tensing up already.

“Come on, Rainy, give it to me. So quick today, is it the effect that I have on you?” Phantom smirked, feeling how taunt the taller demon’s body was.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Phantom, I… Oh shit, I– ah!”

“Let go, Rainy.”

[greypetrel]

[WRAP] for cullen/aisling? ❤️

Oooh this got me so indecisive between ANGST and FLUFF. Decided on the ANGST. Some hurt/comfort after Before the Dawn. ☺️

From this list, if anyone wants to ask another prompt!

  [ WRAP ]: when sitting astride a horse/motorcycle/etc. together, the sender reaches back, takes the receiver’s wrists, and gently pulls their arms around the sender’s waist in an embrace designed to keep the receiver safe, despite feeling remarkably intimate.

Nobody wants to talk, still.

Three days after they made their way out of Dumat’s Temple, the party’s been closed off in a tense silence, speaking just out of necessity, when months of travelling and camping and fighting together are proving to be not enough to just guess movements and requests with but a nod of the head. Even Dorian seems to be at a loss for words, and Varric lost all that he had left after a couple of attempts at jokes.

It has been… Worse than the Emprise du Lion, and that was saying something. The extreme temperature changes of the desert surely aren’t helping, as it osn’t the fact that resources were limited and Cassandra was adamant in rationing, since even Aisling couldn’t work out much to find good, reliable sources of waters beside the wells that marked the road back south east.

Aisling is trying to keep up and stay strong, functional and efficient as a person and as a leader all the time. She slept little, and when she did, it was on the saddle, silently handling the reins to the Seeker when the map and their journey there promised a good deal of nothing for the next hours of night riding to avoid the extreme heath. But, she has been affected too, by what they saw and read, and more than anything by what Maddox told them. And to add to everything that was weighing on her mind, Cullen… Has not taken it well either. And how could he, after all? One thing was discovering that the order that was once your whole life has gone mad and sold itself to the last wannabe evil overlord, for reasons you can vaguely understand, another… Another is knowing that a person you knew experimented on people who were loyal to and trusted him so much.

She knows him well, she knows it’s a lot to take in and digest, and so she didn’t pressure him, slipping into professional mode easily and doing more than she technically would have to, so to ease the burden off his shoulders a little and leave him time to think.

By now, they’re setting up camp in the outskirt of an oasis, the sky paling in the approaching dawn, and Cullen’s just… Not returned from a hour, after going to “check the perimeter” on foot. Aisling’s worried, and doesn’t listen to Varric suggesting her to leave him be. She just hops on her horse, patting his neck with affection and gently asking him to please endure a little more after the whole night of travel, and spurs him on to the direction he went.

It’s not difficult to find him, really, staring at some old ruins half buried in the sand at the other end of the oasis, standing in the middle of the small circle of crumbled columns after he checked for trapdoors and dungeons, no doubt. There’s no veilfire torch waiting to be lit, no runes or weird inscriptions. Whatever that building was, it is long forgotten.

She doesn’t even dismount: all she does is having Little Brother slow down, approaching him from the side. He still hates when she just walks her horse on stone pavements, but for once he doesn’t complain.

“Something noteworthy?” She asks, simply, in the most neutral tone she can muster. It comes out as tired, but there’s really no point in masking, not with him.

“No. Just palms and stones.” He replies, equally tired, and from more than the long ride in the night.

She humms to signal she heard him, and just leans on her side, offering him a hand.

“Let’s get back.”

Cullen doesn’t say anything, there’s no need to. He just sighs, nodding and turning to take the offered hand. She slips her foot away from the stirrup, slipping a little forward to give him more ease to mount and space to sit, and hushing the horse when he does and the weight on the back adds up. It’s not far and Isa’ma’lin is strong, they can make it.

Commander safely on the saddle, she shakes her head when he offers her the stirrup back, and clicks her tongue twice to start walking back, easily guiding the horse around and outside the ruins. She keeps a walking pace, not wanting to overdo it and, honestly, taking the chance for some moments closer to the man she loves. It’s been a while and she misses him, with everything she really would need him close, but won’t pressure him into anything. So, she takes what he can give, even if it’s just a slow ride back to camp on the same horse.

“You’re tired.” He notices.

“You too.”

“Want to- Ah, give me the reins?”

“And guide my horse? No way, good sir. We both like you, but don’t push it.” She chuckles, tiredly and forcing it up just a little. But… “I didn’t mean to-”

She corrects right after, realising it could sound bad or give the wrong message, right now and then. It’s just a stupid matter of pride, really.

“I know.” He guffaws, in the same tired way, before the conversation dies again.

It’s like taking a breath, in the quiet of the incoming dawn, stars quickly disappearing and sky vaguely turning lighter, lilac to the east. She pulls on the rein: if Cullen laughed at her joke, maybe he won’t mind if she takes the longer route back, not cutting through the palm trees and shrubs but circling the oasis. Slower, but it’ll allow for a view of the dawn on the distant mountains. He doesn’t say anything as she turns the horse left and reassures a mildly disapproving snort from the equine with a dismissive “Hush, you bicoloured doofus!”.

By the time they reach the outskirts of the oasis and Aisling turns the gelding east again, directed to camp and facing the sunrise, the Commander on her back clears his throat to speak, gently resting his hands on her hips, very tentatively as if it could break her. The elf doesn’t react in any way, in a silent “go on”, and after a moment, he speaks.

“About the Temple…”

“It was difficult for you, wasn’t it?”

“No! I mean – yes, but… It’s not what I wanted to say.”

She hums, waiting for him to collect the right words, put them in order, displaying each of them as he would the pieces on a chessboard. He always does, when he has to say something important, and she learnt to give him his spaces.

“About- About Maddox… Aisling, if I ever-”

Oh, she knows that voice. He stutters and fumbles on his words when he’s embarrassed, but that broken, ragged tone is the one of “I’m flailing myself”, is the one of any lyrium withdrawal or any burst of regret over minor things that aren’t under his control, as much as he tries. She shakes her head, decisively. She wouldn’t have any.

“No, venhan.”

“Let me-”

“No, Cullen. I know what you’re saying and- And, no. You won’t.”

“I did.”

“You won’t, not anymore, not with this regret.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. Take your time. I’m here.”

She leaves the rein on the withers, to sneak her hands slightly back and close fingers on his wrists. Slowly and delicately, so he has time to oppose the movement, she moves them forward, arms and bust slipping towards her in the movement, as she brings both hands to hug her waist, leaning back into him for good measure and not caring if he’s still wearing armour nor if the fur on his collar tickles her ears and her neck. She sighs contently, as he slowly accepts the hug for what it is and brings her closer, spreading legs further and tucking her in, securely. She leans back, solid and grounding and protective, even being smaller than him of a full head, size difference even greater from her not wearing armour. She’s there, she smells like her elfroot lotion, and he’s rarely been as grateful of her presence as in this moment.

“I missed you.” She tells him, after a minute, voice little as if it’s a secret, looking intently at the sun peeking above the horizon, turning the sky in pink and peaches.

"I'm here for you as well. You know it?"

She just nods against his cheek, melting a little, back slouching forward. If he peeks at her profile he can see the eye towards him is watery, shining bright in the dawn, and he knows in an instant that she’s letting go as well, she needs to but doesn’t want to.

“I’m here.” He repeats, squeezing her snugly and tight, and that’s all she needs to believe him, tears falling off her eyes with a snort. He kisses one away, bending slightly. “I’m here.”

[jaitropdonglets]

How Can I Teach My Autistic Students to Love Their Disability?

Autistic Advice #1: A New Column by a Neurodiverse Psychologist

7min read

Welcome to Autistic Advice, a new, semi-regular column where I respond to questions about neurodiversity, Autism acceptance, and disability rights from Autistic people and their allies. For the past month or so, I’ve had a Curious Cat question box open, and have accepted questions from educators, parents, and Autistic people themselves. You can anonymously send me questions there as well.

Before we dive in, a bit about me: I am a 32-year-old Autistic person who didn’t realize they were on the spectrum until their mid-20’s. My whole family is full of people with Autism-spectrum traits of one kind or another, and at this point in my life I socialize with fellow neurodiverse people almost exclusively. On Medium, I’ve written extensively about my experiences, and the experiences of other adult Autistics whom I’ve interviewed. Though I am a research psychologist, I am not a therapist, and this column should not be treated as therapy.

My first question comes from an educator who works with Autistic children and adults. They wanted to know how they could teach their Autistic students to take pride in their own disabilities. They wrote:

When did you start to see your neurodiversity as an asset rather than a deficit? I work with some really amazing kids that I’m convinced are going to be the next CEOS, leaders and game changers of this world. Right now though, their peers can’t see how amazing they are, and this is (partly) the lens through which they see themselves. Also, sometimes their parents aren’t much better. So when did you start to see yourself differently in a positive way? (I’m assuming you didn’t always see yourself as positively as you do now- disregard if I’m incorrect). And also, was there something that someone said or did that helped you develop this positive perspective of yourself? Was there anything you did that really felt like it helped facilitate this shift? Anonymous

Hi Anon,

Thank you so much for your question. It’s wonderful that you want to bolster your students’ confidence, help them overcome the low opinion that so many peers (and parents!) have of them, and empower them to live their best Autistic lives. It’s also so great to see you are approaching this question with the built-in assumption that Autism isn’t a shameful disability or something to be hidden away or overcome; every Autistic person deserves to exist in an environment where they are accepted as they truly are in this way.

So, it’s clear to me you’re an awesome, supportive educator who is going out of their way to do research on their students’ experiences and wants to help them succeed on their own terms as best you possibly can. But I’m going to be annoying and challenge (delicately!) basically every completely well-intentioned assumption you’ve made in your letter.

First: When did I start to see my neurodiversity as an asset? Is Autism an asset?

I don’t see being Autistic as an asset more than a deficit actually! Autism is just a way of being that is different, and less accommodated, than some other ways of being. It can be positive, or negative, but on balance I think neutrality or ambivalence feels like the right approach.

I have written about the positives of Autism, a lot, especially when I was early into being “out.” In some ways I think that was a mistake.

I’m an especially lucky and privileged Autistic person. I run in social circles where being quirky and obsessive is cool, and not a huge social detriment. I have an easy time sticking to a schedule and getting work done. Most of the features of Autism that suck for me (like sensory overload) are relatively easy to hide.

I kinda hate that my success as an Autistic person has required I hide aspects of myself, and play up the side that is witty, hard-working, and respectable. It leaves me constantly at war with myself, in a way. I’m thankful for the positives of my Autism, but also resentful that my social acceptance is so conditional.

Which brings me to the next part of your letter: How can you help your Autistic students become the CEOs and world leaders they seem destined to be?

To that, I’d counter: Do Autistic people have to be “successful”?

When we focus on the “positives” of Autism, we run the risk of giving the wrong implication. Yes, there are Autistic inventors, comedians, CEOs, revolutionary thinkers and more, but Autistic people matter and should feel good about themselves no matter what they do or don’t accomplish.

All Autistic people have equal worth, including the ones with intellectual disabilities, nonverbal Autistics, Autistics with zero social skills or interest in socializing, ones who won’t ever become CEOs or game changers. A lot of Autistic people don’t have the skills necessary to become big movers and shakers; some Autistic people who do have those skills will elect not to use them (read: they’ll choose to not have their talents exploited by an employer).

There is this danger sometimes to playing up the advantages of Autism. I’m guilty of this sometimes. When we talk too much about the brilliance of Autistic people, it kinda implies that they need and deserve acceptance because they are an asset to the world. That is a very othering, objectifying message to send (intentionally or not). It suggests that embracing Autism is merely a means to an end.

I have to reject that. Making the world comfortable for Autistic people is a good in and of itself. The Autistic people who are severely impaired or won’t accomplish “big” things in life are just as valuable as me and they deserve accommodations just as much as me. And all Autistic people deserve to have complex feelings about their disability, including a mix of pride and sadness, no matter what their disability looks like.

And that brings me to the next question in your letter: Do I feel positively about having Autism? Is Autism positivity the goal?

I like some aspect of being Autistic. Many of my Autistic traits have been socially rewarded. I can focus on tasks for a long time. I can read a lot, write a lot, ask pointed questions that help people see and understand problems. I sound smart when I speak. I’ve been rewarded for all that.

But being Autistic also sucks. I truly hate it, often. I hate how much loud noises bother me. I hate having meltdowns. I get sick on public transit. Bright lights make me angry. I am easily made irritable and I have a short temper. I have hurt people by saying flippant, dismissive things. I’ve missed social cues. I’ve spent years being lonely and not knowing how to make friends.

Autism is a mixed bag, and me feeling more positive about it isn’t really the answer. What I need, and what more debilitated Autistics need, is acceptance and accommodation. I’m taking a play out of Your Fat Friend’s playbook here. She often says that fat people don’t need to feel more “body positive” in order to thrive; what they really need is fat liberation, an end to the oppression of fat people on a society-wide scale.

I think a flavor of the same thing is true for Autistics. We don’t all need to see our disability as an asset. Indeed, for some of us it is not an asset. What we need is to stop being oppressed, excluded, dehumanized, and robbed of agency.

I think for the Autistic students in your life, it’s important they know how diverse their neurotype is. They should know about the Dan Aykroyds and Chris Rocks and Anthony Hopkins and Nicole Cliffes of the world. It can be encouraging for them to recognize that there are successful people who are like them. If parents and non-Autistic peers get acquainted with these figures (or successful Autistic adults in your area), it might help bust open some of their stereotypes of what the disability is.

However, your students should also get to know nonverbal, intellectually disabled, and multiply disabled adult Autistics, and have some of those people in their real lives. They should meet Autistic women, Autistic trans people, Black Autistics, Autistic people who use wheelchairs, Autistic people who only communicate via typing. Your non-Autistic students and their parents should meet all of these people too. They should learn to embrace all types of disabled individuals, especially those who haven’t “overcome” disability or done huge impressive things.

Shifting the attitudes of your non-Autistic students and their parents will pay huge dividends. The less people tie accomplishment to a person’s worth, the less ableist our world is. The more accepting neurotypical people are of difference, the easier and more comfortable Autistic lives become.

Furthermore, your Autistic students should know that when they are suffering or struggling, it’s not their fault. It’s the fault of a society that doesn’t accept them, and was built to be hostile to them. They don’t have to “try harder” or succeed in order to prove they are full, complex humans. They are important people no matter what their lives look like — they don’t need to achieve a thing, or be good at *anything*, to be an important and loveable person. And again, it’s just as important that the non-Autistic students learn this too.

So, that’s where I’d start. Work on accommodating your students & accepting them as they are. Surround all your students with a diverse array of disabled adults and role models. Teach all your students to see themselves (and other people) as innately lovable and deserving of accommodation, no matter what they do or don’t accomplish in this life.

Thanks for your question! And keep up the amazing work advocating for your students!

[4e7her]

these are mostly for personal reference but here's some little extras for a drop of silver in a sky of stars - i've got a collection of short character descriptions and chapter summaries ^^

the character descriptions are just hair and eye colors and key features, no pictures, but it does include ages and roles for everyone. chapter summaries include four key points for each chapter and helps to summarize the passage of time. it's actually already been a year in the story - it was spring when fenrir transferred worlds, winter when he escaped from linemell and was found by the grand duchy, and spring again when he travels to the northern territory.

also, i've made a little timeline for my own reference, marked with fenrir's age. each bigger line is marking winter, as his birthday is in winter, and the smaller red lines in between mark each season. for example, the first column would read '15 winter' and then the smaller marks are 'spring, summer, fall', and then the bigger mark again is '16 winter'. the events with blue lines under them are ones that have already been written and are set - the text without blue lines are planned, but subject to change.

timeline image and more rambling under the cut.

most of the actual romance isn't going to start until fenrir turns 19, as he'll be starting in an academy at that time. i wanted to give him time to develop and meet most of the love interests beforehand, so that's why i started the story with fenrir at 15. it also serves to give him some time to start healing from his trauma, as i don't think it would be realistic for him to jump worlds and immediately respond even just neutrally to being pursued by various yanderes. and, it works well for euryn's character particularly - if i hadn't included their interaction at the start, spending six months in metaphorical hell together, he would've just been a carbon copy of rhain (as in, twisted and cruel. instead, he's more obsessive and puppy-like).

right now, i'm focusing on fenrir getting to know and growing closer with his family. i've hinted at it in the upcoming chapter, but the verdandi grand duchy hosts an annual swordsmanship competition in the winter, which is when we'll be introduced to the next love interest - ceri. he'll be fenrir's knight, and the main reason why i said 'most' romance and not 'all'. eldrid, from the southern grand duchy, will be introduced after him, and then rhain will be introduced in a hunting competition in the fall celebrating his successful return from war with the kingdom of panna.

i do have the timeline going forward still after all of that, as i'm not sure how long this story is going to stretch out over, though i doubt i'll use the full timeline i made unless i do a timeskip to an ending, which i'm not planning on doing. i'm not sure if i'll be leaving the ending open-ended or getting fenrir together with only one of the love interests as of now, but i suppose it'll depend on how he interacts with the love interests and more or less what the people want. i was also thinking of a rhain-euryn ending at one point, though i’m no longer sure about that. i might even write out endings for each of the love interests if i'm so inclined - right now, i'm not decided on any answer.

and though it's not yet noted in the timeline, i also need to bring in something with the mage tower - they will be an antagonist in this story. there's also the uror duchy and the eastern grand duchy that i'd like to touch on.

overall, basically, this story is going to very long i think. i'm having a lot of fun developing the characters and the world around them, and it's been a while since i started and kept with such a big project. feel free to ask me more about it, or any of the characters, or even the location. i have a lot in mind.

[lcstinthewoods]

open to: member of rival racer team or gang that she has a history of bad blood with? or any other kind of enemies to lovers kinda thing where they've definitely fucked before

mariana could feel the heat of their stare as she danced with another, as she pressed her body close to his and allowed his mouth to work on the column of her throat all the while she lazily rolled her head to the side to meet their stare, a playful smirk on her red painted lips. she'd come to this club as a means of recruiting, its location in the center of neutral territory a prime opportunity, but it seemed she wasn't the only one with that idea. and she couldn't help herself from having a little bit of fun for herself. with their gazes still locked, she allowed her mouth to drop open in an exaggerated show of pleasure as the male she danced with sucked on the skin of her neck, before she reluctantly pushed herself away, murmuring something about needing to leave. and then very deliberately, she made her way towards the true object of her desire. "oh, so sorry." she cooed after brushing right up against them, acting as if the entire thing had been an accident.

[riseshinelandscape]

Landscape Design Trends for 2023

The new year has begun, and with it come new ideas for everything, including outdoor landscape design. There will be a trend that will work to maximize and personalize your outdoor living space, regardless of your tastes and preferences. You can choose to revitalize your yard with a Greek style, a terra cotta style, a new deck, a sustainable design, and a variety of other options. Some of the biggest landscaping trends for 2023 focus on natural wildlife gardens, kitchen gardens, sustainability, and the environment theme.

The recent pandemic sparked a surge in interest in gardening and landscaping. Homeowners are now maximizing and customizing their gardens and landscapes because of many emerging trends in garden and landscape design. Here are some of the landscape design trends for this year that you should be aware of so that you can be inspired and collaborate with a landscape contractor to make it even more beautiful.

2023 Landscape Design Trends 1. Bringing Indoors and Outdoors Together - Integrating indoors and outdoors by opening up the home to the patio or garden through folding glass doors and adding enclosed verandas partially covered with gardens is one of the top trends. Indoor furniture such as sofas and chairs made of metal or wood should also be included.

2. Greek-Inspired - This is a well-known theme for conveying romance and history. Columns, archways, formal hedges, Grecian statues, stone pathways, and gravel gardens can help you achieve this look. Pots and urns can also be placed on Greek-inspired platforms.

3. Terra Cotta - The color of the year for gardeners in 2023 is terra cotta. Terra cotta is a term that refers to reddish brown unglazed clay that is used for planters and pots. The color and texture of the terra cotta can lend a Moroccan and Mediterranean flair to the backyard design.

4. Pathways Made of Natural Stone - This is a low-maintenance trick for creating a cottage-style feel and adding interest to a solid lawn. Broken stones are also popular, and you can make them appear more natural by using asymmetrical slabs and boulders. You can choose from brushed or textured porcelain, granite, limestone, or sandstone stones.

5. Adding a Retaining Wall - This is an important feature, especially if your yard slopes towards your house. It can aid in the prevention of foundation problems, soil erosion, and mudslides.

6. Build a Garden Pond - This will set your landscaping design apart from the crowd. It is a lovely garden feature with numerous advantages, including increasing the overall value of your home. It also creates a peaceful environment in which to unwind after a long day at work.

Immersive Gardens - This trend emphasizes the use of natural and landscaping materials in neutral tones and rich, fresh textures to showcase the beautiful scenery of your outdoor spaces despite their imperfect appearance. This trend includes local species or native plants that have been purposefully cut and trimmed to appear flawless by landscape maintenance in Collier County, FL.

Using Drought-Resistant Plants - As the climate changes, this is becoming the most commonly used plant. These plants are easy to care for and can grow in any weather. Choose plants that have deep roots and require little care and water, such as sage, rosemary hebe, hot poker, native grasses, and kangaroo paw.

Utilize Smart Technology Landscaping - Although it is not a landscaping design, technology such as a smart irrigation system that can control the flow of water in different zones can be extremely beneficial in maintaining vibrant gardening, especially during the dry season.

Tropical-Themed Garden - This is distinguished by a profusion of bright green leaves, grasses, and trees, as well as an ebullient mix of textures, leaf shapes, and sizes. Ponds and fountains, for example, can create a calming tropical oasis effect while also attracting bees, butterflies, and birds.

These are some landscaping design trends for 2023 that you should consider incorporating into your home this year. These are useful not only for stress relief but also for your home. It takes your home's appearance to the next level and increases its value if you plan to sell it in the future. Making these trends work is not difficult, especially if you are a garden lover. You may have had the idea and practiced gardening during the pandemic, but looking for a contractor to have a landscape design in Collier County, FL, will make your outdoor space even more magnificent.