#the only thing stopping him from killing himself is the knowledge that doing so wouldn’t help his friends if he thought it would keep them

[sinoptics]

[luvyeni]

❛CUPID AND HIS ANGEL❜ ( l. know )

💬nia's notes: i seen the shoot and got hella inspired.

p. cupid!leeknow x angel!reader w. 2.5k+

warnings? yandere themes, corruption kink, talks of blood, oral (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, poor knowledge of greek mythology ( like zesus should strike me down), leeknow is referred to as both lk and cupid.

— 𖦹 ( youre lee knows precious angel, and he'll be damned if he shoots his arrow into your hear for anyone but himself ) !

“she is a beauty, isn’t she?” lee know stared at the photo in front of him, ready to snap his bow and arrows in half. “she isn’t a goddess by any means, just a mere angel, but she’s special.” he knew who you were, he’d been watching you since you arrived here in olympus, he already claimed you as his. “you want me to use my arrows on a useless angel?”

he didn’t mean to be so harsh, but if this male angel found out he also had an eye out on you, he’d surely try and start a war over it – and lee know didn’t bother for another war, nor did he wish bloodshed, but he’d spill the angels blood all over olympus if it meant you’d be his alone – plus the angel would never win against lee know, he was a god of course, but that wouldn’t stop him, male angels are very prideful. “please, i’ll pay you a generous amount.” lee know smiled, tapping the table. “of course.” the angel put the sack of gold on the table, lee know scooped up the bag, putting it in his pocket. “good day to you.” he turned to walk away. “so you’ll do it?” he turned back facing the angel. “consider it already done, i’ll inform you when it will take place.” he smirked walking out of the establishment.

of course he wasn’t gonna do it, no way was he gonna let you be taken from him by some lowly angel, no you deserved more than that – you deserved to be treated like the goddess you really were, spoiled with many jewels and dresses, to eat the best foods… you deserved to be with him, he could give you all that and more.

of course, he already knew where you hung out, in the fields with the other angels, he’d often watch you picking flowers, your wings fluttering behind you, perfect for him. “hi my precious little angel.”

you turned around to face the voice, with a smile, it was your friend leeknow, you smiled running over to him. “hi cupid.” you teased, he smiled, patting your head. “i told you to call me leeknow.” you chuckled. “i know, but i like teasing you.” you were so cute, so unaware of the explicit things he thought about doing to you. “are you here to stay or are you gonna go make people fall in love today.” he shook his head, he only had one person he was gonna make fall in love today – and she was standing right in front of him. “no i’m just here to watch you today, make sure you’re being the good angel i know you are.” he took a flower from your pile. “(y/n), come!” your friend called for you. “go little angel, i’ll be here when you’re done.”

he sat down watching you run over to your friend who wanted to show you something in the grass, probably a animal or something – he didn’t mind, he had business to attend to. pulling out his trusty bow, along with a single love arrow, he waited for yours and your friend to be far enough so you’d be to look at him first, but you won’t see him shoot you, before aiming the arrow, making sure to wait for the exact moment – lord knows that if he shot your friend by accident he’d sure end up killing them, he didn’t want anyone else but you, and was willing to do anything, and he couldn’t have that if he has a stupid little angel floating around here actually thinking he’d love them, no all his love was for you.

once you were in the right place, he wasted no time, letting the arrow go, shoot right in the heart, right where it needed to be. he saw you stumble, meaning the arrow did hit you – making direct eye contact with him. he smiled, and just as he planned, you dropped the flowers, waving goodbye to your friend, running over to him. “you’re back my little angel.” you smiled, he seen the look in your eyes. “pretty little angel.” he held the flower he took from you, placing it behind your ear. “leeknow, i feel- shh, i know angel, let’s get you back to my castle okay?”

lee know was ecstatic, the magic from the arrow seemed to hit faster than anyone he ever shot before, you were all over him on the ride back, to the point he had to hold your wrist down to keep you from unbuckling his pants, “angel stop it.” he sighed as you pressed warm kisses to his neck. you pouted, whining. “but why, i just want to show you that i love you so much.” he smiled, this is exactly what you wanted. “yeah? you love me?” you nodded. “yup, so so much.” he chuckled. “and i love you too angel, but you have no clue what you’re doing, just wait a little while longer, and i’ll show you exactly how you can show me how much you love me.”

as soon as you touched the inside of your castle he was taking you to his chambers, not even caring to explain to the maids, close his door, leaving you both alone. you rushed to kiss him, he finally allowed you to, it was messy, due to your lack of knowledge of how to kiss someone or do anything in a sexual nature at in general. he pulled away grabbing both your cheeks. “calm down my little angel, you don’t even know what you’re doing.” he chuckled. “let me guide you, okay? i’ll give you anything you want, just submit to me.”

Your body finally calm down some, he smiled. “good girl, now undress for me.” you untied the string of your dress, that was tied around your neck, letting it fall, uncovering your boobs, the cold air hitting your nipples. “perfect, my perfect little angel.” he brought his hands up to your nipples, pinching them, you whimpered at the sensation. “sensitive baby.”

he sat down in the chair, patting his lap. “come here pretty.” you moved to where here was, standing in between his legs. “be my sweet little angel and get on your knees for me.” you obeyed, sinking down on your knees, looking up at him. “good little angel, listen so well for me.” he caressed your face, the lovesick look in your eyes making him smile. “gonna do whatever i ask you, be a good angel for me.” you nodded. “anything.”

he let your face go, sitting back to unbuckle his slacks, pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock slapping again his abdomen, his hissed at the cold air. “are you hurt?” your eyes filled with worry, he let out a dry laugh. “no angel, i’m fine.” he groaned, stroking his cock in front of your face. “you want to show me how much you love?, prove to cupid how much you love him?” you nodded. “i do.”

he grabbed the base of his cock, bringing it to your pink glossy lips. “open for me angel.” you slowly parted your lips, he slid his cock into your mouth, moaning as he guided you down his length. “there we go angel, keep going, don’t use your teeth.” you took as much as you could, until his tip hit the back of your throat. “pretty girl, my cock is too big for your little mouth.”

you shook your head, desperate to please him, you tried to take him further down, gagging around his length. “you really want to please me little angel, you took me all the way.” he threw his head back as you worked your mouth up and down, eventually getting the hang of it. “sh-shit you’re a natural angel.” the god was losing his mind, the way your mouth worked on his cock, he had to grip the chair to keep from grabbing your head, fucking up into your mouth – not wanting to frighten you during your first time, plus you both had all the time in the world, both of you being immortal, he had all the time in the world to fuck your face, teach you and corrupt you even more than he was about to.

“fuck angel, angel i’m about to cum.” he groaned. “wanna cum in your mouth okay? gonna fill your mouth with my cum.” you hummed, he grabbed the back of your head, pushing it down until your nose poked his pubic bone. “breath through your nose angel.” he groaned out, stilling your head. “ngh, fuck angel, i’m cumming!” his cock twitched before you felt his warm cum hit the back of your throat. “mhm shit, take all my cum love.” he cursed, his cum filling your mouth.

he finally released your head; you coughed, spit and cum wetting your lips as you caught your breath. “did i do well?” your voice was scratchy due to his previous assault, he smiled at your need to please him – even though he was the cause of it. “yeah angel, you did good.” he said grabbing your cheek, wiping the cum from your lips. “now it’s time for me to show you how much i love you now.”

he helped you up, guiding you to the bed. “lay down angel.” you complied, laying down, your wings spread behind you, your skin glowing, you were truly a beauty. “such a pretty creature.” he lifted the skirt of your dress up on your waist, your white panties on display. “so fucking pretty angel.” he kissed your navel. “spread your legs for me angel.”

he sat on his knees between your legs, the wet spot in the middle of your panties, proving your arousal. “look at the mess you made angel, you love me that much?” he rubbed you through your panties. “leeknow.” you whimpered, your eyes widened at the noise that so easily came out of your mouth. “it’s normal sweet angel, it’s just you showing how much you love me.” he moved your panties to the side, your cunt soaked with your juices. “look so sweet angel, gonna let have a taste later.” it didn’t sound like a question, and lee know didn’t mean it as either, he would spend the rest of eternity in between your legs, but he was equally as desperate to fuck you, his cock swelled just at the thought. he pushed a finger into your hole, you whimpered out his name in reaction. “that feels nice angel?” you nodded. “i’ll let it slide this once angel, but when i speak to you, you use your words, okay?” he pressed a second finger at your hole. “you want another?”

“pl-please.” you moaned as he added the second finger, using his thumb to rub your clit. “sweet angel your little cunt is squeezing my fingers like crazy.” he said. “you’re barely taking them, how can you take me cock if you can’t even take my fingers.” you whined. “i-i can, i promise.”he smiled, speeding up his movements, curling his fingers. “you gotta cum on my fingers first then, gotta open you up to take my cock.”

you felt something, your thighs began to tremble, your legs trying to close around leeknows wrist, but he held them open. “s-something- shh let it out angel, this is a good thing, that means you’re about to cum, be a good angel and cum all over my fingers.” on his word, you felt yourself release, cumming on his hand. “le-leeknow.” your body convulsed as he worked you through your orgasm, pulling his fingers out, bringing them to his lips. “oh fuck angel, you taste so good.” he groaned, tapping on your sticky clit.

“you ready for cock angel?” he rubbed his length on your folds, your juices coating his cock. “y-yes.” your whimpers turned into a loud moan as he slowly entered you, the tip of his cock alone stretching your cunt. “leeknow.” he sighed, his cock sinking into your cunt, your walls gripping him like vice. “fu-fuck angel, your cunt is squeezing me like crazy.” he grunted. “relax your pretty cunt for me, let me in.” he slowly moved his hips, taking his cock out, pushing back in.

you were a mess as he slowly moved inside you, the uncomfortable feeling slowly subsiding, turning into pure pleasure. “m-more.” that’s all he needed to speed up his movements, your moans bouncing off the walls of his chambers as he fucked you. “that’s it angel, take all of my cock.” his hand toyed with your nipples, pinching them.

you felt like you were floating, the tip of his cock slamming into your cervix. “are you going dumb on my cock already angel?” he chuckled. “it’s okay love, i’ll be right here, your love will be here when you come back.” he lifted your hips fucking deeper into you.

“fu-fuck angel, gonna make you my wife.” he grunted. “give you everything you deserve.” he promised. “no one will ever be able to harm you.” you listened to his confession, unable to speak. “sh-shit you’re clenching so tight around me, gonna cum aren’t you, tell me you love me first, i want to hear you say it.” he grabbed your chin. “i-i love you, i love you so much.” you mustered out. “lee-leeknow i’m gonna cum!” you screamed.

“cum for me angel, cum for me so i can fill your little cunt with my cum.” his words alone made you yell out his name as you came, your thighs shaking. “fuck angel, you came so fast -shit- you want my cum that bad, want to have my children, give me a heir?” you nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist. “p-please.” his hips began to falter, his thrust becoming more messy. “fu-fuck angel, i’m gonna cum, gonna fill your pretty cunt up -ngh- fuckfuckfuck.” he cursed, his cum filling your cunt up. “take my cum, my little angel.”

your body laid there limp, your eyes fluttering close. “little angel are you sleepy, my cock made you that tired?” he chuckled as you nodded. “go ahead and sleep, i’ll clean your sweet body up.” that’s all you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

“you cannot enter cupids chambers right now he is-.” his door swung open, lee knows eyes opened, the angry angel making his way in. “you bastard! you’re a thief and a crook.” he yelled at the god, you can tell he was angry, because not even a prideful angel would dare do what he was doing. “you stole my gold and my angel.”

your eyes opened due to the commotion. “leeknow?” leeknows eyes darken upon hearing your voice. “you woke up my little angel with all your yapping.” he said. “your angel? she’s supposed to be mine!” the angel yelled. “enough of this.” leeknow belted. “why would i need your gold? you’re a lowlife.”he scoffed, the angel stood there fuming. “now get the fuck out before i have you killed, you’re scaring my wife.” with a snap of his fingers, two guards came in dragging the male out. “who was that?”

he turned to you, starring up at him. “just a upset customer, don’t worry about you’ll never see him again.” he dipped under the blanket, kissing your thighs. “wh-what are you doing?” you stuttered.

“gonna eat my little angels pretty pussy.”

©LUVYENI

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 9:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy, hurt feelings, tiny bit of sexual tension

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

The flight back to Ord Mantell was silent. Hunter sat stiffly in the cockpit after checking on Omega. The rest of the team sat in silence under the dimmed lights.

The situation played over and over again through his brain.

Omega dropping from the vents alone. Without you. It was so hard to dispel the fear that flooded his veins like ice water.

Were you hurt? Captured? Dead!?

Then you’d entered the room with that staff, that blaster bolt so narrowly missing your head.

Why was it so important to grab that staff? Why risk your own life and Omega’s just for a few lousy credits.

I thought I knew her better than that.

Then there was that all-consuming guilt-laced horror when the pair of you fought the guards so viciously and he could do nothing but watch. Powerless. Afraid. Angry at the smugglers. Angry at you for being so reckless. Angry at himself for being able to do nothing but watch it happen.

---

The others seemed to know better than to bother Hunter right now, but you had to know why he was so upset.

Part of you knew it was you - your reckless plan that could’ve gone wrong in so many different ways.

But how was it any different from one of his plans that always seemed to turn to chaos? That tiny thought voiced defiantly, only serving to fuel the anger and frustration that boiled through your veins.

Against your better judgment you strode into the cockpit.

“Hunter, I…” you stopped as he held up a firm hand.

“Go sit down, we’re about to land. We’ll talk about this later.”

No, I want to talk about this now! The impatience rattled around inside, barely able to be contained.

“But…”

“Now.” He commanded, pointing to the seats. “I’m giving you an order, try not to disobey this one too.” His words were sharp and impossible to argue against.

“Yes sir.” You answered harshly, matching his tone.

There wasn’t much discussion upon landing, either. Nor was there any argument when Wrecker and Omega took off to celebrate their Mantell Mix tradition.

Echo and Tech disappeared soon after. The bitter taste in your mouth festered as you watched Cid carefully place the staff in her back room. You stood and walked out of the parlor.

We got the staff, we got paid, and nobody got hurt. It sounded fine to you. In fact, it sounded like success, yet you couldn’t shake that growing hurt of disappointment and shame.

That should’ve been enough. I should’ve been enough. Maybe I could’ve done more. Maybe I should’ve done less.

But the reality of it all only served to solidify the nagging knowledge that you really didn’t belong here.

Sighing, you walked faster down the street away from the figure you knew was following you.

"What the hell was that!?" Hunter growled from behind you as you stalked back to the Marauder. Clenching your jaw, you purposely ignored him, just wanting to shower, grab some food and forget about the whole thing. You were starving and could definitely use a good long nap.

“Hey!” Hunter grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him. “No. You don’t get to ignore me when you nearly got Omega and the rest of this squad killed!”

You jerked your arm free with a huff which just seemed to aggravate him further. “Omega is fine.” you snapped. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to her. I got the job done. You got paid. What more do you want from me!? You wanna hold hands and talk about our feelings?”

Heavy, angry breaths forced themselves from your heaving chest. You were fully aware that Hunter could easily hear how quickly your pulse thundered in your ears without a chance to easily reign it back.

“I gave you a direct order and you disobeyed it!” he snapped.

You scoffed, “You all do it all the kriffing time! I don’t see you shouting at Omega when she plays by her own rules! So what’s so different when I do it!? Huh?”

Hunter was silent. You could feel the anger simmering beneath his skin. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, sounding more like a groan of frustration. "For once in your life would it kill you to use your damn head!? You almost got yourself killed out there, and I…!” He stopped himself.

“What do you care?” You spit venomously, spinning around to face him again. “According to you lot I’m just a ‘useful asset’!”

“What?” Hunter ran a hand through his hair, visibly confused.

You took a breath. “I heard you talking to Tech!”

A look of realization began to appear on his face as you looked down. “That's not - “

“No!” You interrupted angrily. “You think I'm reckless and irritable and only useful when you need me.”

“No! I didn't mean it like that. I was - “

You held up a hand to stop him. “It's fine, Hunter.” You said coldly. “At least I know my place now so thank you for bringing that to my attention.”

“But I…” Hunter stuttered, looking completely bewildered.

“Stop.” You commanded. “I said it's fine. It hurt, but I forgive you. Everything's fine.”

He could only watch as you stormed down the ramp, leaving him in a cold silence as it hissed closed behind you.

He sat unmoving for what seemed like hours.

The hatch opened again after a few minutes and for a brief second, Hunter felt his heart race raising a hopeful gaze as the ramp slid down but it was only Wrecker clamoring up the ramp with a crate of thermal detonators. He set them down and raised an eyebrow sticking a thumb out behind him towards the open door. “What’s with her?”

Hunter sighed, “Don’t ask.” Shoulders slumped, he turned and headed into the cockpit. Maybe he could convince Tech to let him help with one of his projects. He could use the distraction.

Tech glanced up as Hunter all but fell into an empty chair. He raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?”

“She heard us talking the other night,” said Hunter.

A look of confusion flashed across his face for a split second before quickly realizing what his brother was referring to. “Oh!” Tech looked up, “So then, I assume she now knows how you feel, and judging from your facial expression and closed off body language, she does not reciprocate those feelings.” Tech paused and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry.”

Hunter shook his head. “No, she only happened to hear you say that she’s a ‘useful asset’!” He glared at his brother as though to blame him for the entire misunderstanding.

“Ah..” Tech put a finger to his chin in thought. “That is most unfortunate.”

Hunter slumped lower in his seat. “Yep… and what’s worse is that she heard me agree with you and now she thinks that’s how we all feel about her.”

“But that was only a small sample of our conversation and very much taken out of context. If she had stayed and listened a bit longer she would have realized this.”

“Well she didn’t, and now she thinks I hate her.”

Tech frowned. “Per our conversation, that is quite the opposite of the sentiments you expressed.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Perhaps you should speak with her about it. Explain to her that what she overheard when she was eavesdropping, was entirely incorrect.”

Hunter shook his head.

“Or I could tell her if you prefer,” Tech continued helpfully.

“No!” Omega leapt from her room, bypassing the ladder entirely, and landed on her feet with a thud, nearly tripping over Gonky as she slid into the cockpit in front of them.

Hunter’s head snapped up in alarm.

“No.” She repeated adamantly, “Do not. Please do not. The last thing she needs to hear from us is blaming her for the miscommunication!”

“Speaking of eavesdropping…” Hunter crossed his arms, looking at his sister who responded with a sheepish grin. He rolled his eyes, not able to help the smirk that pulled at his lips at her antics.

“What? It’s a small ship. I can hear everything.”

“I wasn’t blaming her.” Tech said defensively. Hunter’s face fell again as Tech brought their attention back to the matter at hand.

“Well she’ll probably think we are if you say it like that.” Omega told him.

“She won’t talk to me.” Hunter shook his head, “Besides, she left after I yelled at her.”

Omega looked up at him with a grimace, “You did sound really mad…”

Hunter winced at the blame that flashed nearly imperceptibly through her eyes. “She almost got both you and herself killed during that last mission!” His voice grew hard again. “She’s reckless and I hate it!” His voice grew softer, “I can’t wa- ”

A scoff interrupted his lament as both Tech and Omega sported alarmed looks. Hunter turned to see you leaning against the bulkhead, face contorted in a mixture of anger and hurt. He could see the telltale shine of unshed tears you fought so hard to hide. Hidden from the world but not from him. Hunter noticed everything - especially when it came to you.

You chuckled dryly. “Nice to know how you really feel.” Your voice cracked, desperately straining to hold back tears. “I came to apologize and hear what you were going to tell me before I left. I gave it some thought, you know? I thought, ‘maybe I did misunderstand him’.”

You shook your head, “But no…. I guess I was right.” You spun around, heading to your bunk, pushing past Echo who’d returned just in time to witness your words.

“Wait…” Hunter stood up, calling after you but you did nothing to let him know you’d even heard him.

Quickly taking a few steps forward, fueled by a burning need not to let you slip through his fingers again, he grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

You let out a gasp as your back hit the cold of the wall, feeling a strange warmth sink into your bones as he pressed you in place.

No. You didn’t want to be here. Hunter didn’t want you to be here.

But yet…

All was silent as you found your eyes drawn up to his. A painful longing drove a wedge in an ever widening crack in the wall you’d so carefully thrown up to protect yourself from him.

This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong.

“Please…” he was practically begging now. Then he froze.

There it was again. That scent. The one that drove him crazy. The one he’d smelt on you when you’d come out of the fresher just a few days ago.

“Hunter!” Your voice had an edge to it.

No matter the hurt, leaving was the best option. You couldn’t stand how these mixed signals, sending you spinning one way and then the other.

He groaned, “Will you please calm down and let me explain!?”

"Calm down!?" The moment was broken and the anger returned, hot and fierce, sending rivers of steel to reinforce the shoddily crafted walls, turning it into a fortress. He would not break through so easily.

Not now. Not ever. He made his choice.

You ripped your arm from his grasp and spun around, anger blazing through your eyes. “Go kriff yourself, Hunter!” You turned to leave but spun back around, eyes blazing. “Actually, no. Go kriff Tara!”

The anger and hurt bubbled over. If he wouldn’t be honest with you, at least he could be honest with himself.

Conscious thought was gone. Emotion spewed like venom. “I saw you getting cozy with her at Cid’s so you obviously have feelings for her!” You spun back around, forcefully grabbing your go-bag from the foot of your bunk and strapping your blasters tightly around your thigh and another at your side. Without a second glance, the ramp hissed open and you strode out, missing how Hunter’s mouth fell open in a confused, but reluctant understanding as the ramp hissed shut behind you.

Oh. The realization soaked him to the bone as if he’d been woken up by a bucket of ice water.

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[awkwardandeccentric]

I cannot stop watching the first four minutes of Apology Tour because it’s so well-acted and animated (especially Bryan Pinkham, oh my god he was told Stolas was a cunt this episode and he delivered).

Stolas admittedly got petty when he brought up Striker and reminded Blitz that Blitz wasn’t there when he was being tortured and was almost murdered. But I think he knows Blitz was prioritizing his child and while it may hurt, as a father himself, he doesn’t actually hold it against Blitz for not being there.

What I think is actually cutting him up is that the guy he’s in a situationship with and in limerance with (meaning intense, obsessive crush), never showed up to see him at the hospital and kept making excuses to to not talk to him after he was tortured and almost murdered.

Like, fuck man. That has to hurt. That has to feel like a stab to the gut. We know as the audience that Blitz is keeping himself at a distance because of his self-hatred and complicated feelings and guilt, but Stolas doesn’t.

And shoutout to @timkontheunsure for finding this:

To be very quickly followed up by Blitz admitting he already knew Striker was trying to kill Stolas, even if he didn’t take it seriously (I take it at face value that Blitz didn’t think of Striker as a threat to Stolas. He took the assassination attempt itself seriously but had no reason to think Striker would attempt a second time and especially be successful. He seemed genuinely shocked that Stolas could be killed in Western Energy).

So, from Stolas’ POV: you’re have this intense, obsessive crush on your situationship. The other guy does not take it seriously that you were badly injured, never saw you in the hospital, is avoiding seeing you after you get out of hospital, sent you pictures of your torturer’s horse as memes, and then admitted that he already knew your torturer had plans to murder you while calling your a racist. Stolas probably believes Blitz does not care if he lives or dies. And while we as the audience agree that Stolas has racial blindness to work on, I’m sure the first time he’s ever had to think about race/class dynamics being when he’s being tortured is not giving him any motivation to check himself on it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole topic throws him into a PTSD episode. This is especially heartbreaking because Stolas is making an effort to hide an injury he still has from Striker, most likely because he’s royalty and royalty have to appear strong at all times.

Sometimes I wonder if Blitz knows if Stolas wasn’t a pacifist, he would have murdered him ten times over by now.

And Stolas’ little drunken speech at the end is so fucking sad. I think he’s being literal when he says he wants someone to care if he stays or goes, but also euphemistic. He wants someone to care if he leaves the morning after, but he wants someone to care if he’s fucking murdered or not.

My sad birb, the bar cannot be this low.

And I think it’s going to be another thing that makes things very complicated and vitriolic between them. On Blitz’s end, you have the racism/classism and the power dynamic. On Stolas’ end, you have the knowledge that your situationship only wanted to see you for your access to the human world (there’s no way he didn’t figure that out after months of being left on read, which he mentions in S1E1) and probably wouldn’t have known if you passed at the hospital because he had no intention of seeing you. And Stolas deserves to have that hurt acknowledged. All the birb wanted was a “hey I’m glad you’re not dead here’s a little kiss on the forehead and a horse movie to keep you entertained.” That’s it. The bar is so low it’s six feet under Hell and it still wasn’t met.

And Stolas’s response was to get a little petty one time when they were already arguing? My ass would be using this to win every argument from now until Armageddon.

“Stolas did you do the dishes?”

“IDK Blitz. Did you come visit me in the hospital after Striker tried to gouge my eyes out?”

[boolger]

So long as I'm your favorite toy ☆ COD fanfic

Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. The title is from Jazmin Bean's song favorite toy.

☆fem!reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley ☆ explicit. MDNI ☆ 1,655 words

☆summary: There was something wrong with Simon. You knew that, had a bad feeling whenever you were together with him, felt like he could tear you apart with his teeth whenever you saw him. Yet, here you were, once again. Together with him, with that bad feeling in your stomach, your instincts telling you to run away, telling you that he could hurt you. He sometimes did. You tried ignoring the feeling, tried not to think too much about it, about how he screamed danger. About how he used you like a toy.

☆tags: dead dove do not eat, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, stalker!Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Alternative universe, serialkiller!Simon 'Ghost' Riley or well its hinted at, BAD bdsm etiquette, bdsm, humiliation, degredation, verbal humiliation and abuse, non-con elements, squirting, car sex, semipublic, rough.

☆☆MDNI☆ Dead dove do not eat☆MDNI☆☆

extra warnings / note: This is just straight up an abusive relationship. Reach out for help at the proper resources in your country if you’re in one of these and maybe don’t read this fic. Simon doesn’t r*pe but reader does acknowledge that he probably wouldn’t stop if she asked him to. Also this is not proper and safe BDSM. Bdsm shouldn’t be like this, even if it’s cnc or free use. If you use your safeword, that should be respected and acted on. It is hinted that Simon is a serial killer, but he doesn't actually kill anyone, only mentions it.

There was something wrong with Simon. You knew that, had a bad feeling whenever you were together with him, felt like he could tear you apart with his teeth whenever you saw him. Yet, here you were, once again. Together with him, with that bad feeling in your stomach, your instincts telling you to run away, telling you that he could hurt you. He sometimes did.

You tried ignoring the feeling, tried not to think too much about it, about how he screamed danger. About how he used you like a toy.

He said it was bdsm and to a certain point you agreed. But in proper bdsm both parties respected each other, even when there was degradation involved. No matter how rude one was to the other, in a healthy bdsm relationship there would still be respect, there would still be the knowledge, respect and acceptance that if one party said stop the other would do so immediately.

… you weren’t so sure that Simon would.

Sure, you had a CNC kink, but even when that was practiced, a safeword was in place - and technically you had a safeword, but you doubted Simon would actually stop.

It was a dangerous game. Toxic. Unhealthy. You should really stop, really get out of whatever it was that you had going with him.

Yet, here you were, together with him. Again. He had texted you and you had come running like a desperate, shaking puppy, craving attention, even if it was technically the wrong kind.

Like a toy, ready to be played with.

“Fuck,” he snarled in your ear, “you’re such a fucking whore, yet your pussy is so tight all the time.”

A whimper left you, your eyes fluttering shut as you shook, his cock ruthlessly trying to bully its way deeper into your poor shaking body.

Sometimes, sometimes , he was nice afterwards, after fucking you, after using you however he wanted. His fingers running along your abused skin, littering it with kisses, muttering about keeping you for himself. His own little whore, pretty girlfriend in his house, his wife waiting for him when he got home, homemade food ready for him.

You knew he didn’t mean it. Or at least, you hoped he didn’t. The two of you never talked about it afterwards, he never mentioned wanting something else than the whole fuckbuddies thing you got on. You didn’t even know where he lived, if he actually had a house, hell, you didn’t even know what he did for a living. For all you knew, he could be a monster or a CEO, a cashier behind the counter in a supermarket or a handyman. You had no idea. You tried not to care. It wasn’t like he asked about you either… though he sometimes just seemed to know a little too much. Or he at least hinted at know.

The way it squelched as he fucked you made you dizzy, you body already hurting from the position you were in. You were in his car in the backseat, trying to pretend that you weren’t afraid you were going to get caught, your knees over his shoulders, you body bent in half, thighs almost touching your chest. You were crying - you didn’t know when you started doing so, but you couldn’t stop. Besides, Simon didn’t mind it. He just fucked you harder, making the entire car rock to his thrusts, even leaning down to lick off your tears, calling you needy, pathetic, a whore.

You had already come twice. Maybe that was why you always came back, the orgasms were fantastic and plenty. Simon might be a mean bastard but he always made you come at least 3 times every time you saw him.

“Fuuuuuuck, princess,” he moaned, one hand on your neck, squeezing a bit while the other was on the car door, giving him something to hold onto, “you’re so fucking wet - gonna squirt, huh? Squirt all over my fucking car seats? Make it - fuck - make it dirty and all wet, huh?”

You sobbed, trying to shake you head. “No no no pleased down, Simon it’ll - fuck - ah ah ah—“

“Fucking whore,” he continued, “I’ll have to get ir cleaned then, won’t I? Tell the staff how it got so dirty?”

You sobbed, only moans and wails interrupting them. You didn’t want to squirt, he would never let you hear the end of it, you already knew.

“C’mon then, lass,” he moaned, his cock hitting you even harder; it hurt, hurt so badly yet so perfectly as you cried.

“No no no - Simon - Simon - stop, I’m gonna -“ you tried begging him but it was already too late.

Despite Simon’s strength, his cock was forced out by your body as you squirted, but he merely slapped his tick member against your cunt instead, hitting your clit. He forced your body to continue, his hand moved from your throat, instead holding onto your ankle, keeping you open for him, using the other hand to tap his cock against you. It was like it kept coming, making you scream and twist in the cuffs he had forced you into earlier.

It was soaking his entire lower body and the seats, the shame worse than you had expected; you had sprayed your juices all over his thighs and it was dripping from yours too, when your body finally finished. He was moaning, somehow making that degrading and you could barely hear the words that followed, too gone.

He was on you again, forcing you into the same position, your poor, wet and puffy cunt stretched again as he filled you once more, making you squeal. Your sight was blurry and his hand was on your jaw then, grip bruising, as he forced you to look at him. You barely understood the words he said, something about fucking you dumb - but you felt the spit that then hit you cheek, splatting all over your face, making you whimper.

He continued to fuck you, as if he was some fucking machine, growling like a dangerous animal in a rut, unable to stop breeding you.

“I would kill for this pussy,” he moaned, eyes dark as he met yours, fucking grinning, a sight that made your toes curl and stomach twist,  “do you want me to kill for you, huh??”

“Noo,” you whined, shaking your head, making him laugh.

“I fucking would, princess,” he growled, making you cry again. It was getting too much, everything felt overwhelming, your poor pussy almost in pain - but somehow he forced another orgasm from you. It made your entire body shake and finally, fucking finally he came with a loud, primal-like scream, filling you up with his cum.

You panted beneath him, knowing you looked like an absolute mess. Sweaty, drool running from the edge of your mouth, his spit on your face; your own juices running down your lower body and his cum would no doubt drip out the moment he pulled out.

He was softening inside you, yet he still leant down, your poor legs hurting and still bent, kissing you. He kissed like he fucked you. Dominating and controlling, forcefully yet so fucking wonderful. You moaned and gasped into his kiss, making him smile smugly. Simon pulled back, just a tad, your faces so close.

You felt a shiver run along your spine at his words, nausea appearing in your stomach.

“I meant it you know,” he whispered, all lovingly, “I would kill for you, princess.”

You let out a small sound.

“I don’t want you to,” you answered weakly, voice shaking a little. He looked cold just for a second as he replied.

“Then don’t give me a reason to.” 

Simon grinned all happily then, straightening up and pulling out, cum immediately oozing out, giving your ass a hard smack, just to watch you clench and twist for a second as you wailed.

“Get dressed,” he then said, opening the car door behind him, casually stepping out all naked, “I’ll drop you off.” 

He stepped to the front door then, putting on his boxers, his own clothes on the seat all neatly. Then he reached into the small cup holder in the front, picking up the key for your cuffs.

You awkwardly turned around and he moved again, opening the cuffs and your arms hurt from behind beneath you for so long. Your eyes flickered to him as you reached for your clothes. But Simon was quicker than you. Without even looking apologetic, he reached down to pick up your clothes at the car floor, rummaging through it for a second until he found your panties. 

You knew not to argue.

You got dressed quickly, knowing he wasn’t always patient.

You felt his cum seeping into the fabric of your skirt as you sat down at the passenger seat next to him a minute later, hoping it wouldn’t drip onto this seat too.

Simon turned on the car, fully dressed himself, the radio automatically starting to some low rock music. He drove from the forest casually, his hand resting on your thigh whenever he wasn’t changing gears.

“Are you busy this saturday?”

You were. But he never liked it when you were.

“Only in the evening,” you answered carefully.

“Good. I’ll pick you up then.”

That was that. A little while later he dropped you off after a bruising kiss.

You stumbled into your apartment a few minutes later, body sore and dirty, discarded like a used toy that he was done playing with. You knew there was something wrong about him. The words about killing for you made you feel bad as they replayed in your mind again, as you quickly stripped, stumbling towards the shower to clean.

You should stop seeing him. Start dating. Get a partner, a good one, a loving one. Yet… yet you were going to go Saturday when he texted you. Like a good toy should.

[pianokantzart]

Broken Warp Pipe AU

Based off of a concept by @multicolour-ink and @wiz-witch​ where the warp pipe in Brooklyn breaks down, leaving Mario and Luigi stranded separate dimensions: X.

From there I just went off the rails.

Mario (Brooklyn Side)

Mario has not stopped working toward finding a way to The Mushroom Kingdom since he and Luigi were separated, and has run himself ragged in the process.

He started off trying to discover if there is a working warp pipe somewhere else in the world. After all, if there was one just under their noses in Brooklyn, surely there’s another somewhere! He just needs to search, and search hard.

He’s always on the move, working some side-gigs to stay afloat while spending every second of free time pursuing and studying warp pipes. He eats bad, sleeps bad, and even smokes sometimes when he’s sleep deprived and can’t focus (though he always feels guilty about it afterward. Luigi would NOT approve.)

Mario hates being alone, but spends most of his time alone, because he feels that’s what he deserves at this point. He’s reached so many dead ends he feels like he’s already failed his brother, but refuses to slow down all the same.

When he’s feeling particularly hopeless or lonely, sometimes he talks to nobody as though he’s talking to Luigi. This helps a little. 

He calls his family every couple of months to let them know he’s okay, and to see if there’s any sign that the Brooklyn warp pipe is working again. These phone calls are brief, and he never properly explains where he is or what he’s doing.

 Mario has stolen (and usually returned) many ancient artifacts and documents, and broken into many a location trying to uncover a warp pipe. He hasn’t hurt anyone, but his impatience and determination has earned him a bit of a criminal record in the human world. 

In his travels, Mario found one or two working warp pipes, but they led to weird alternative dimensions not even close to The Mushroom Kingdom. He has done some heroism in these places whenever the situation presents itself (he’s still a good guy), and has been rewarded with helpful information about warp pipes and how they work.

Through knowledge he gleaned from his travels, combined his own advanced skills with traditional plumbing, Mario eventually pieces together how to repair warp pipes, which he uses to fix his own pipe back in Brooklyn.

Luigi (Mushroom Kingdom Side)

When Mario first got trapped in Brooklyn, Luigi desperately tried to fill his brother’s shoes until he returned. When Bowser inevitably reattempted to destroy The Mushroom Kingdom, Luigi tried to channel his brother by taking the tyrant on alone. He was very nearly killed as a result. DK, Toad, and Peach successfully fended off Bowser in the end, but Luigi was left physically and emotionally scarred in a way he has not quite recovered from.

Luigi still does his best to be a hero despite everything, but is only barely functional unless he has someone backing him up. Princess Peach sticks close to him whenever possible, and Toad is ecstatic to have him as a friend and adventuring buddy.

 Luigi has an official place on the Toad Brigade, and is happiest when he’s doing missions with them.

He eventually develops into one of the most formidable heroes in the dimension, especially after he gains the powers of the thunder hand. He rarely gets recognition for this though, because he very much does not behave like the traditional hero, and far prefers the sidekick position. He wouldn’t have it any other way.  

Luigi does not spend a lot of time in his and Mario’s house, save to keep it clean and tidy. He has not moved any of his brothers things, except to keep them dusted. A part of him still holds out hope that he’ll be back one day.

Princess Peach hooked Luigi up with an apprenticeship with Professor E. Gadd during one of his slumps, and he spends most of his nights sleeping over at the lab. The professor is happy to have him around; Luigi keeps the place so neat and organized, and makes the best cup of coffee!

Though they have some wardrobe changes, both Mario and Luigi have their original hats, and are extremely protective of them. 

[k-s-morgan]

Why did Will reject Hannibal after Muskrat farm? I see a few justifications saying that Will was tired after Hannibal almost eats his brain and is fucked up by Mason, but that doesn’t seem reason enough.

Will also talks about the rejection when he visits Hannibal in TWOTL, saying Hannibal would only turn himself in if Will rejected him. What was Will’s intent here?

Hi! So, this is a very complex arc that has many interpretations. This is how I see it - and I'll start from the start of S3 because it's important to keep track of the change of Will's attitudes.

In the first several episodes, Will is operating under the knowledge that Hannibal loves him, and his emotions come to the surface more openly. He can't and doesn't want to move on: the first thing he does upon waking up is voicing his pain at Hannibal leaving him to die, then berating himself for lying to him, then realizing Hannibal left him alive deliberately and that he wants to be found. Will begins to analyze their conversations and quickly figures out where he should go to look for him. After being released from the hospital, he starts building a boat to travel to Hannibal by sea. The nature of this action is romantic by itself - also, this scene is intercut with his Mizumono memories, namely, with Hannibal's face that emerges every time he moves yet another part of the engine. This is a vivid demonstration of Will trying to repair what is now broken. He openly admits to Jack that he wanted to run away with Hannibal.

Similarly, Will spends some time sitting in Hannibal's empty house. He is pining hard, his feelings are so intense that he no longer even bothers to hide them from Alana and Jack. The whole E2 is Will's love letter to Hannibal - he's reverent about him, he thinks about him non-stop, and he tries to find him very hard, even literally chasing him down. He even lies at the place where Hannibal left him his "broken heart," as if needing closer physical contact.

Things begin to shift as Will meets Chiyoh. I feel like Will starts drawing comparisons between them and comes to a conclusion that Hannibal doesn't love him after all. That if he abandoned Chiyoh, whom he was supposed to love, so easily, for so many years, without bothering to return to her, then maybe he's just not capable of love. Will's torn now, wondering if he was mistaken about Hannibal's feelings as well as about his and Abigail's importance because if Hannibal left his family so easily once, who’s to say he wouldn’t do it again? Will is insecure by nature, he often doubts himself, and textually, that's the first time when he starts considering killing Hannibal again. Seeing Bedelia as his replacement just reinforced this idea, so Will returned to his bitter and vengeful state, hence his half-attempt with a knife in Dolce.

After Hannibal reacts to this attempt by trying to (half-heartedly) saw Will's head open, and then the whole disaster with Mason happens, it all becomes a breaking point for Will. The initial excitement and determination he felt have passed. He has grown disillusioned, bitter, hurt and hurtful once again. He's tired, he's no longer certain of anything, and he needs to re-retreat. It's similar to how people often feel a boost of energy to do something daring, but at some point, they lose this spark. They stop feeling like they could move the mountains, and Will feels it, too.

He rejects Hannibal because of this, as I see it. He doesn't know what he wants again, he isn't sure Hannibal loves him, and he's no longer willing to break the fragile, shattered semblance of normalcy he has been cultivating for decades. He's clinging to what he's used to instead of jumping head on into something new and mysterious, even if it's much more exciting. Will has no strength for excitement and passion right now.

I never quite bought that Will knew for sure that Hannibal would give himself up if he rejected him. Yes, Will was probably lying when saying he wanted everything to be over, and maybe on a subconscious level, he hoped for some grand proof of love, but I don't think he could be actually sure that something like this would happen. For one thing, Hannibal's response is genuinely unexpected - just in Mizumono, he gutted Will after his betrayal; in Dolce, he attempted to kill him after Will betrayed him again. Giving himself up is something new - Hannibal has grown a lot during these months and days, but Will doesn't know it. Also, I don't think Will is nearly confident enough about his place in Hannibal's life to predict that Hannibal would give up his freedom for him. In addition, he just strikes me as surprised and pained when he sees Hannibal's surrender.

So, maybe Will was thinking about it a lot afterward, and during that moment in prison, he wanted to hurt Hannibal, so he exaggerated the depth of his manipulation.

If this is the case, then why did Will want to hurt Hannibal at all later? In my opinion, it's for several reasons. Will is feeling extremely petty. He's hurting Hannibal just because he can - he now fully realized the power he holds over him, and he's enjoying it. He's paying him back for everything he's still angry and hurt over. It's possible that he's also playing it up for the cameras, making Jack and Alana believe that he's leaving for good and wants nothing to do with Hannibal. That would make his break out plan easier. He lies not just to Hannibal here, he lies to everyone who's watching. He claims he had nothing to do with setting up Chilton, even though he took the responsibility for him with Bedelia; he claims he's going back to Molly, even though they broke up.

[simplyluunaa]

˙⊹ ੈ✰[Stopping them from killing]✰ ੈ⊹˙

-ˏˋ. rules + masterlist ˊˎ-

Fandom: Danganronpa 

Characters: Gundham Tanaka, Nagito Komaeda, Teruteru Hanamura

Warnings: !!NOT SPOILER FREE!! This one especially has many many spoilers from SDR2. This one refers to Nagito’s plan in the first chapter, not the fifth

Tags: Mentions of death, plotting murders, kinda ambiguous ending?

A/N: This one has been marinating in my brain for a while, so I finally put it into words. Also, I apologize if posting has been a little slow or the posts haven’t been quality, I had some personal stuff going on but it’s all getting resolved, so I may start posting more frequently!!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Gundham Tanaka

It had been two days in the funhouse when Gundham hatched his plan. He’d go to the final dead room, figure out the secret of the funhouse, and use his knowledge and perhaps a few weapons to fight Nekomaru, and one of them would be the sacrifice needed to free all the others

The two of you had been spending a lot of time together, both from him wanting to protect you and him wanting to spend his final days with you

He would be sad to leave you, but he would never forgive himself if he let everyone else idle around and die from starvation

You had been sleeping in your own room most nights, but for some reason, this night you had a feeling of dread you couldn’t shake

So, you head over to Gundham’s room, asking to spend the night with him

He knows his plan is ruined if he lets you, but he doesn’t have the heart to refuse you

So, he lets you stay with him

Cuddling in his bed, he starts to hatch a new plan

One that doesn’t involve him leaving you alone

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Nagito Komaeda

Nagito had everything planned out perfectly

The knife was under the table, the AC and irons were set up, and the lamp

All he had to do was wait

Unfortunately, he didn’t plan on one thing

That was you

When the lights went out before he could lean down and follow the lamp cord, he grabbed onto him, spooked by the sudden blackout

He knew he couldn’t push you off, that would be suspicious, and that would make the trail far too easy

So, he stayed still

Obviously, this was a result of his luck, but he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad

On one hand, it could be seen as good, saving a life

On the other, it meant that hope wouldn’t be able to blossom

He had a lot to think about the next day

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Teruteru Hanamura

He didn’t want to kill anyone

But he also didn’t want Nagito to kill anyone, and with Nagito having revealed his plan to kill someone during the party…Teruteru knew he had to do something

He felt as if he didn’t have a choice

He had to protect them from Nagito’s twisted plan

He had it all planned out, during the blackout he could go under the building, and stab Nagito when he tried to grab the knife

He was the only one in the kitchen, so it would be easy for him to slip away

At least, it would've been

Instead, halfway through the party, you came to the kitchen, deciding to keep him company

The plan slipped his mind at that moment, and he allowed you to sit and watch him do his thing

When the blackout hit, he realized

He couldn’t just leave, and if you did leave you would probably ask where he was going, or maybe ask to come with him…

He had to stay with you

When the lights came back on, an announcement played on the monitors, stating a body had been discovered

Rushing to the dining room, Teruteru’s worst fear was now a reality

Hajime Hinata, dead on the ground, a knife plunged into his chest

[artful-aries]

Can I please have How they flirt headcanons for zhongli scaramoche and Childe? Thank you in advance 🤗

Hello hello!!! I have no excuse for taking so long to put out content other than my job killing me and getting distracted with oil painting

How They Flirt With You (Zhongli, Scaramouche, Childe)

Zhongli:

His flirting is as refined as osmanthus wine

He is very gentlemanly when he flirts; chaste, grazing touches, deep, meaningful looks, and his willingness to jump at your beck and call are very prevalent as he seeks to woo you

Zhongli wouldn’t overload you with compliments, that would make it seem like he only cares for your physical appearance or that he is too obsessive. When he does compliment you, it is pure poetry that falls from his lips

“Your eyes shine like the purest noctilucous jade. For all of the wonders of Teyvat, you are certainly the most captivating.”

He knows his compliments can come off pretty strong in their own right, which is why he keeps them to a minimum unless he is absolutely sure that you are okay with it

None of his flirtations would come across as needy or desperate, he is calm, cool, and collected as he effortlessly but respectfully flirts with you

Being as old as he is, he does not clam up when it comes to things of this nature, nor is he afraid of the possibility of rejection. It’s all part of the mortal experience that he wishes to see more of

The unfortunate part of Zhongli’s flirting is that he can be incredibly long winded and wind up telling you the whole history of processing silk flowers into usable fabric before he can think to stop himself

He tries to pay attention to what you’re interested in, but if a topic comes up that he’s knowledgeable about, he can’t help himself but to delve deep into the topic with you

It’s not that he’s trying to show off in a conceited way, but Zhongli does like showing you that he is knowledgeable and capable in a wide variety of subjects. He just has a hard time reigning himself in once he gets started.

If you decide to flirt back with him, his demeanor isn’t going to change much other than he’s going to have a soft smile permanently plastered to his face

The way you flirt amuses him, but it makes a warmth seep deep into his heart, and his hands tingle slightly as he practically eats up your flirtations

He wants nothing more than to kiss you in these moments, but Zhongli is going to bide his time and wait. Like stone, he knows his feelings are not subject to change for a long, long time, but mortals can be fickle with their affections. He wants to wait and see how serious you are about him before trying to take things to the next step

Scaramouche:

Chant “tsundere” in the mirror three times and Scaramouche will appear

When he starts developing a crush, he’s going to deny it to himself for a while. What use is a crush to him?

As the feelings only continue to grow as he’s around you, he has two options; avoid you, or bully you (these are clearly the only two rational options for when you have a crush on someone)

Scaramouche will attempt to avoid you first, going weeks meticulously avoiding you before he finally just gives up. It’s clearly not working for him, if anything, it’s making his thoughts of you worse

So, dropping back into your life like he never left in the first place, he starts bullying you

He never gets physical and doesn’t say absolutely horrendous things, but he will frequently imply that he thinks you’re an idiot or a weakling

You might genuinely think he just hates you, and rightfully so. Yet if you ever actually get genuinely upset with him, especially to the point of storming off or giving him the silent treatment, Scaramouche will internally panic

He won’t apologize, at least not outright, but it is very easy to see the shift in his demeanor. He makes sure that you’re in earshot to hear him say nice things about you to others, or he just sort of hangs around you as though he’s silently begging you to forgive him

When you do finally start talking to him again, he can’t help but feel a little giddy even though it makes him feel weak and pathetic

From there, his flirting actually begins, but he’s certainly no charmer. Scaramouche is still as abrasive and hard to get along with as ever, but he does random acts of kindness for you now. He’ll call you an idiot, but give you bundles of your favorite snack. He’ll scoff at you cooing over a cute cat, but will sneak a cat plush he made himself that looks just like the kitten you were cooing over the other day into your belongings

If you decide to flirt back, he’ll laugh and ask if you’re serious. When you confirm that you are in fact serious with your words, a blush will develop on his cheeks, and he will finally be rendered speechless instead of running his smart mouth

Childe:

This man is quite the tease, and it’s hard to tell when he’s just looking to get a reaction out of you or when he’s being genuine in his flirtations

He’s touchy to a fault. He sees no problem with hoisting you up randomly over his shoulder and carrying you off somewhere. The way you fluster and struggle against his hold his just so cute to him, you can’t expect him to behave when you give him such nice reactions

If you gave indication that you would genuinely start hating him for being so handsy, Childe would reign it in. As much fun as it is to push your buttons, he doesn’t want you to hate him

His touchiness doesn’t completely die, but it’s a lot more gentle and sweet, more like proper flirtation rather than borderline manhandling you

With his connections to Northland Bank, he likes to spoil you just a little bit with gifts. Nothing extravagant since you’re not dating yet, but just nice little sentimental things to show that he’s thinking of you even when he can’t pry himself away from his work

Childe also flirts by showing off, especially when it comes to fighting. He makes sure that the fight is never too dangerous or scary, but he wants you to see him absolutely decimate his enemies

It’s like he’s showing you how strong he is, that you can rely on him if you wanted to

That being said, he definitely gets a little cocky and gets himself hurt a time or two, but that just gives him an excuse to play up the injury a little so he can get you to tend to him

He will totally give you flirtatious winks and teasing remarks as you help him apply bandages to his bare torso, saying that surely you must have been dreaming of the day he got hurt so you could do this

This would be your chance to turn the tables on him and get him flustered. Shoot him a teasing remark back or let your hand ghost over the curves of his muscles and the man will turn as red as his hair

Childe loves a competition though, and will ramp up the flirty comments and gestures until you give up and walk out a blushing mess or you give in and finally kiss his stupid lips already

He knows that no matter which way things will turn out, it’ll be all the more thrilling for him

The Harbinger totally doesn’t mind staying in the flirting stage for a while; he almost likes the chase more than the reward. Almost.

[paradlselost]

CRIMSON.

JOHN SEED X FEMALE DEPUTY

Sort of a dump, I was really debating on just publishing this as a WIP but I was halfway through the smut and decided to just finish it. Not my best, but I tried to go for a more canon accurate John, which means he’s a major freak in this sorry :/

I mentioned it in the fic but didn’t go too deep, I kinda love toying with the idea of a more selfish deputy - humanizing them. If I were to ever write a longer fic with more of an oc-ized version of the deputy would anyone read? Let me know.

I probably won’t post about John Seed or FC5 for a little while after this. I have ideas for a Black Noir (my bbg) fic and then a Father Paul Hill one from Midnight Mass cause I love religious trauma as y’all can tell. I do also like indoctrinated!deputy so maybe maybe eventually I write about that.

2.7k words

content warnings: mentions of cutting into flesh. smut — dubcon, choking, blood play (John being a freak sorry), dryhumping, oral (m receiving), fingering, debauchery in a house of God.

She should’ve known from the start, when the crackle of her radio sounded, interjecting her music with his voice; that this request was nothing but trouble. But rage had blinded her, wrath seeped into every pore in her body, selfishness.

It was never the Deputy’s plan to become the symbol for the resistance, even after the blades of the helicopter stopped, and smoke and fire billowed out from the engine. Even after Dutch saved her and enlisted her help, and despite the stories from countless other resistance members, she only really had one prerogative; save her friends. 

Hudson, Pratt, Whitehorse. Trapped in the claws of the cult, it was her duty to get them back, and despite the help she had been giving to the resistance, those were the only three people she cared about.

He knew this, stalking her like a cat preparing to pounce, he watched every facet of her life from the moment she ventured into Holland Valley that he could. A selfish little thing, ripe for his obsession.

John Seed was a proud man, bold and brave as he had so eloquently begged Jacob to put in his song. His pedestal as a Herald inflated his ego, the knowledge that without him Eden’s Gate wouldn’t have prospered nearly as much fueled his narcissism, which is why he surrounded himself with only the peggies who would do anything for him.

He isn’t sure whether new members are supposed to pledge their lives to him and the cult, but it sounds so sweet when the floor pools with the blood of their atonement and he coaxes those little words from his new followers' lips. His tongue is coated in silver, he loves this new power, and she threatens to take that from him.

He knew she wouldn’t be as proactive if he crooned to her that he had a resistance member or two, and she would swing in guns blazing if he claimed to have Hudson right beside him. So, instead he played on her curiosity, that little nudge in the back of her mind that forced her to seek him out whenever he called. Like a moth to a flame.

“Fuck you, Seed!” Voice so filled with venom it might’ve burned a hole in the floor, he tilted his head at her profanity, a sadistic grin playing on his face.

Hope County was filled with little white churches, chapels with steeples that attempted to reach to the heavens above. She assumed they were much more lively before, now most were barren except on Sundays, when the peggies who could not fit onto Joseph’s compound would listen to him under random roofs of God.

This. He chose to be under the white ceiling specifically, to call her into the thing she had been fighting against. To hear her screams echo against the chipped painting that decorated the walls, for her blood to be stained on the old wooden floorboards.

Curiosity killed the cat. She was stupid enough to venture into his trap, falling to the ground when hit hard enough over the head, and now she was stupid enough to attempt to fight off the peggies that held either arm.

“Such profanity. You’re in a house of God, Deputy, mind your tongue.” He scolded her as if she was a misbehaving child, as if everything she had ever done could be chalked up to that. A spoiled rotten brat.

His fingers danced over the tools he had brought with him, his trusty tattoo gun being at the top, but an assortment of knives he also deemed fit for this occasion. Oh, the blood she would spill for him, he became giddy at the thought.

“Get off of me-! Woah woah woah- hey stop!” Yelping, she still attempted to fight off the peggies that held her arms, she shied away when he advanced toward her, tattoo gun in his hands. He had tried this before, she knew what he was doing.

“No one here to help you now, Wrath. Don’t try and fight, your atonement will hurt much less if you cooperate.” He was too calm for this situation, a practiced art he had been through hundreds of times. It was a skill, making people spill their most intimate secrets, a skill he had perfected.

The Deputy was a fighter, through and through, though John could understand Jacobs words. She was weak without her companions, without pastor Jerome stealing her from her atonement, or Nick Rye strafing his armed convoy, she was nothing now - and it was almost endearing to him.

With her hands bound, she resorted to spitting that same venom that she held in her words, marking his perfect face with her saliva. He grimaced, wiping it off his cheek before it trailed down to his beard, pretty blue eyes flashing with that same bloodlust that dictated his every waking moment.

It was shocking to even the peggies that held her when he grabbed her by her throat, pinning her to the ground and straddling her hips. His hands shook with anger - the same wrath that he deemed consumed her now making an appearance in himself. Two sides of the same coin, two heads of a snake.

Her head ached now, body feeling as though it was echoing. A second blow to the back of her head that surely would’ve knocked her out if the pain of his tattoo gun wasn’t keeping her grounded. She didn’t know how fast he had ripped her shirt, or how long it would take for him to carve her skin, but she was reduced to pained whines and pleas for him to stop.

And he relished in the noises she made. The blood that covered his hands and trickled down her chest wasn’t an unusual sight for the herald - but her being the one under him made it all the more exciting. His Deputy, his wrath, his perfect rival. The peggies that stood above him now didn’t matter, and what are they to him anyways? Expendable followers he could use, the Deputy was everything.

“Yes yes, c’mon, keep pleading…” How could he help it? Her eyes half lidded as she looked up at him, hands no longer bound by the peggies now loosely grabbing the wrist that held the tattoo gun in an attempt to stop him. She looked so pathetic under him, so why shouldn’t he grind himself against her when his pants were so uncomfortably tight?

Her words didn’t quite reach his ears, not as he waved his followers out - who hurriedly scrambled in embarrassment. The old church was silent, save for her soft sobs and his intense breathing. His hand still placed over her neck made her choke on her words, which only fueled his desire. He could crush her windpipe, her life rested in his hands, and maybe he would’ve if the nagging reminder that she was the only way he was getting into New Eden wasn’t playing in the back of his head.

His ticket, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with her.

He removed his hand from her neck as he finished carving into her pretty skin. WRATH, her own personal scarlet letters. He hummed, looking down at her with lustful eyes, fluttering between hers and the blood that pooled on her chest and trickled down her body to the wooden floor below.

She hated the feeling that bubbled in her chest as the pain subsided, now only a dull ache danced with the look he gave her, how he rubbed the tent made in his pants against her. No doubt, a mark had been left on her neck - his handprint, a reminder. The world felt silent at this moment, when she should've pushed him off.

Selfishness. Prioritizing that small ache he gave her over what she should be doing. Finding anything to act as a weapon against him.

But she didn’t, not as his head lowered and she was greeted with his perfectly slicked back hair, shaking hands reaching to play with a strand. A soft grumble came from his throat, tongue lapping at the blood that trickled down the valley of her chest, tasting what he had drawn out of her.

“What are you doing-?” Her voice was soft, he barely heard it over the ringing in his ears. Too long had he been subjected to resorting to his hand when he thought about her, or messing up his silk pillowcases with his pretty ropes when she teased him over the radio. He had her under him, he wasn’t going to let her go now.

“Shh.” His voice was more scolding then he meant it to be, his tongue traveling from the blood he lapped at down to her budding nipple. He wasn’t gentle, and why should he be? After everything she had messed up for him, he felt it justified to bite down on her pretty flesh, pulling at the bud as much as he wanted.

He relished in the pretty, pained moans that fell from her lips, how her back arched into it. Two sides of the same coin, both reveling in whatever pain was brought to them.

The Deputy’s head tilted back, allowing him a chance to latch onto her neck as a vampire would, smearing the blood on his lips all over her pretty skin. He bit, marking her with his teeth over the forming bruises from his handprint. His hands, decorated in the crimson from his hold on the tattoo gun traveled down her body, painting her in her own red.

He slipped his hand below the rough fabric of her jeans, being met with a contrast, soft and delicate and slightly damp. A soft grumble left his lips at the feeling; which were still pressed against her pretty neck. He felt the way her breath hitched as he ran digits over her most delicate areas. Being so close to her neck, he felt how her muscles tightened and how her breath hitched in her throat.

Lifting her hips to meet his tattooed fingers, a small admission of need. She bit her bottom lip to suppress the noises that tempted to fall from her lips - not wanting to give him the satisfaction. They were still enemies, still rivals, at least to her. 

John on the other hand seemed to be on cloud nine, relishing in how she moved against his hand, grinding herself through the fabric of her underwear. He bit down once more, slipping her out of her jeans and grabbing her hips, sitting up and pressing his pelvis against hers.

“John- John cmon…” Head thrown back, panting as she grabbed at the blue silk of his top. He tilted his head down at her, a sadistic smirk playing on his features.

He always took what he wanted, no matter who it was, and the Deputy was no exception to this. To him, it was God's Grace that placed them both here, that gave him the opportunity to rut his hips against hers.

The bulge in his covered jeans met her underwear, fucking himself against her covered cunt. He leaned down overtop of her, panting against her ear. Hot breath on her neck, the sounds of his soft moans mixing with his heavy breaths, and of course his restricted cock grazing just over her clit every couple of thrusts, it was enough to make any girl's eyes roll back.

He stopped, only for a moment, but long enough for her to let out a needy whine, lifting her head to see what he was doing. Tattooed fingers worked the EG belt off, letting his pants pool at his ankles. He wasted no time once they were off, underwear meeting underwear as the outline of his dick was much more pronounced.

“Fuck fuck, put your head back. Fucking-… good girl.” He groaned out, one hand leaving her hips and grabbing at her pretty hair, pulling her head back against the cold wooden floor of the church. She ached, head pounding and echoing from the injuries earlier - but the feeling of him fucking himself against her needy cunt kept her grounded.

In this moment, she needed him, needed this feeling to not pass out.

He tilted his own head back, sweat casting a slick sheen over his skin. A hand dipped against the drying blood on her chest, gathering what he could over his fingertips before bringing them to his lips, sucking on the bloodied digits. He groaned around his fingers, muffling the moans that threatened to fall.

The head of his cock strained against the blue fabric of his boxers, hips thrusting sloppily against her as his hand tightened on her hips, leaving pretty marks in his wake. One thrust, another thrust, and finally another before white pooled at the head, spurting out of the tiny holes in his underwear.

Panting, he finally moved his fingers out of his mouth, cleaned off the blood and tilted his head down at her almost mockingly; he got to finish, the cum that leaked from his underwear dripping down onto hers, and she didn’t get to. He relished in that, that power he had over her.

“H-hey! Not fair!”

“Oh, Deputy. Come here, maybe I’ll let you get off.”

He grinned as he stood up, fixing himself before moving back onto one of the pews, watching her scramble over to him. He had her eating out of the palm of his hand as she kneeled in front of him. Her head pounded harder, eyes a little woozy.

“Poor baby, rest your head, sweetheart.” He teased, a sadistic grin on his face as she nodded and rested against his thigh, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He couldn’t help himself, not if she looked so pretty right there in his grasp. 

He tangled his fingers in her hair, watching her confused expression as he moved the blue fabric off of his legs, dick springing up as it was freed from the confinement of his underwear. Guiding her head over it, watching her part her pretty lips to suck on his leaking tip.

Milking his cock, swallowing the spurts of salty seed that spilled onto her tongue. She drained him for all he’s worth, looking up at him as he ran his fingers through her hair. He was soft and gentle in this moment, noises falling from his lips that told her how good she was doing. She shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be sucking off John Seed of all people.

He grinned as he watched her, once he was satisfied with the way she suckled on him, he grabbed her chin and pulled her off of him. Guiding her up to her feet, he let her loom over him. She wasn’t intimidating like this, he didn’t know if it was because he had just fucked her over their clothes or because she was relying on him for an orgasm, but she seemed almost adorable.

His lips found her neck once more as she leaned against him, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. He forced her to stand, to spread her legs to allow his fingers to feel the now wet fabric of her panties. He hummed in satisfaction, moving them aside and tracing a finger over her slick folds.

A soft gasp left her lips, grabbing onto his shoulder and attempting to move back to look him in the eye. He grumbled, forcing her in that same position as he bit down on her neck, pushing a finger inside of her at the same time. He loved the moans that fell from her lips as he pumped a digit deeper inside of her.

Another finger stretched her out, deep enough to hit those nerves that made her legs tremble. She whined, shaking against him and propping herself up as he continued to pump in and out of her. He pulled away from her neck for only a moment, watching the way she buried her face against him and laughing softly.

He added one more finger before her legs fully began to tremble, grabbing onto his shoulder. Pumping more, fully reaching those nerves, which caused her to spasm around him, her orgasm flooding around his fingers. She rocked against him once or twice, chasing her high.

“Look at you, Deputy, needing me. Did I make you feel good? Use your words.”

[letters-from-dekarios]

midnight tears

summary: stricken with grief, anxiety, and the shadow of his former, prouder, self, gale takes to seeking comfort in the swift end he dreamt up many moons ago. tav finds him before it’s too late.

or: gale considers exploding and tav stops him

word count: 2.1k

tags: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: this story contains themes of self-harm/suicide. it is not my intention to trigger or harm anyone who comes across this story, but, rather, to share a side of a fictional character I’ve taken a liking to. please do NOT read if these themes, discussed in a reasonable concept of detail, could potentially harm your mental state.

other tags include; gn!tav, act 1 storyline, major gale angst, im still a part of the mystra hate club

He had it all planned out. Written down. He had a failsafe in case things went wrong. Timed it down to the letter, against all the knowledge he had on the orb within him. If worse came to worst, Gods he hoped it wouldn’t, he knew precisely how he wanted to go.

When he first gathered the understanding of the Netherese orb within him, its desperate need to consume the Weave, he was confused. Which was a rare occurrence for him. He was always so knowledgeable that confusion rarely ever happened. He’d question things and soon find an answer, but with this.. no, this was different.

In his quest to prove his love, he only proved his egotism. Something he had tried to stay away from and here he was, indulging in it. How proud was he that he could be able to love the Goddess and Mother of all magic and still be unhappy? Still try to attain more power, more love? How dare he, a mortal man, try and capture the Weave for himself?

Was it really out of love, or was the idea of power and the concept of Godhood too tempting to be toyed with? How did he get this far? How did he manage to do it in the first place, if not by his handling of the Weave itself? He had all the power he could hold and still wanted more.

He was the epitome of a power-hungry, egotistical, jackass.

He deserved the consequences he now had to suffer. He could blame no one other than himself for Mystra’s decision to make him live with it. She could have, very well, killed him right there. But she, by her merciful graces (or what the larger part of Gale perceived as merciful), allowed him to live. He would sacrifice himself to right the wrongs he had created.

As he lay in his tent, one uneventful night, staring at the stars, he pondered the plan he had in his back pocket. He had it figured out for years now, so it wasn’t a question, but he questioned the actual statistics of it. He pulled out a little vial from his bag and turned it over in his hands, reading the neat handwriting over and over again. Midnight tears. A poison whose consequences would only take effect at midnight exactly. If he consumed it in the early morning, traveled far into the Underdark and waited, he would avoid injuring any innocents in the process.

It was a desirable end to his misery, he concluded. If he woke before Tav and the rest of the group, he could be gone before they arose. He doubted they would notice he was missing.

He knew Tav had accepted him for his faults, his lies, and everything else with him. They had encouraged him to stay traveling with them, but he didn’t feel as though he deserved to.

He wondered what the poison would feel like, how it would taste. The seller who gave it to him was vague on the details, and Gale didn’t know if he preferred that or the horrid truth of receiving every component.

He set the poison to the side and conjured a dagger in his hands. He twisted it between his palms, considering the other option to poison. It wasn’t the preferred way to go, but it was his failsafe in case the poison went bad. All he had to do was plunge the magic knife into his chest, and off he would go.

It wouldn’t be the prettiest, he knew that, but it would be better than nothing. His blood pooling out onto the ground, pained cries filling the air- he’d apologize again and again to Mystra, his goddess, his first love, telling her how sorry he was for the stupid mistakes he’d made.

His mouth would taste like copper, eventually, and by then he’d begin slipping away. His body would go numb, he figured, and then his hands would drop. He would fall onto his back, staring up into the vast sky of Faerún, before everything disappeared.

He had a letter written already for his soul to pass on to Tav and the others. He’d apologize to them, too, for letting them down. For not becoming the man they hoped and wished he was. For everything. There wasn’t enough time in all the realms where he could be forgiven for his mistakes.

The longer he sat there, with his thoughts, the more he twisted the knife between his hands. The more he sunk into himself, the harder he pushed it in his palms.

He didn’t even realize he was bleeding until he felt his hands become oddly slippery. He sat up and looked down, his eyes going wide as he saw the blood trickling down his fingers. His heart began to race, his chest becoming tight. He couldn’t live with himself if he died now and took out all his companions with him. Though, maybe he was just being dramatic.

The knife in his hands disappeared and he looked clearer at the cuts on his hands, cursing himself under his breath. He grabbed a nearby carafe of water and poured it over his hands, hissing in pain while they stung.

“Goddess forgive me..” he sighed under his breath, looking around for some cloth he could use to cover his wounds. Then, during one of their battles, he could play it off as an injury received. Why did he do this?

Why was he like this?

He could never know the answer to those questions. The questions that pulled at his heart and broke down in his mind- they had no real answers, they never were able to be answered to begin with. In all his years living as some high, extraordinary Chosen of Mystra, he never found the courage to become insightful of himself. He never understood why he was never enough, or why he couldn’t do things right. Why did he feel the need to lie to cover his imperfections? Why was he so scared that if he messed up, he would never be exonerated?

Mystra had planted the seed in his head that he was not worthy of forgiveness, that death would be the only thing to balance his scale. It got to him. Terribly so, Gale began to believe that she was right. After all, how could one commit such a sin against a God and not be considered unworthy of their forgiveness? He had tried to usurp her authority, whether for love or pride, and had to deal with her wrath. She had every right to not pardon him. She had every right to make him feel how he did.

Though he was rather calm in these situations, no matter what was happening around him, right now he was panicking. His breath picked up, his chest rising and falling faster by the second. Why couldn’t he find a damn cloth?

“Gale?” Tav’s sweet voice broke him from his thoughts. Was he crying, too? He couldn’t tell anymore. He was a whole mess and a half.

“Tav-“

“What happened?” The way they spoke, so much concern in their voice, he couldn’t help but be ashamed of what he had become. How could he sit here, hurting, and hurt others around him? The look Tav gave him was enough to break a thousand realms over again, and he felt awful for making them deal with him.

“I- I don’t know…” he replied, the panic in his eyes as evident as ever.

Tav disappeared for a moment but quickly returned with more water and some towels. They sat down beside him, sighing softly as they took his hands in their own.

He winced, pulling back for a moment before Tav eased him, gently cleaning the wounds.

“Gale..” they started again, and he looked away, ignoring the wounds on his hands. Gods, he was so stupid.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” he replied, taking a breath as Tav made sure his hands were okay.

“Gale,” they repeated, glancing down suspiciously at the poison beside him.

He looked to his side, sighed, and then opened his mouth to speak. How could he even begin?

“You promised me,” Tav sighed, waving their hands and muttering a small healing spell. Soon enough, the wounds closed, and his hands were clean again.

“I wasn’t going to-“

“Gale-“ they sighed again, running a hand over their face. “Why do you even have it? We discussed this. It won’t come down to that.”

“We don’t know that.”

Tav looked at him with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. Hurt laced their words, how could Gale be so cruel to himself?

“It’s for safety.”

“Safety of who, Gale? What happens if you accidentally drink it instead of a healing potion? What happens if it ends up in your food?” They asked, eyebrows furrowed together.

“I wouldn’t do that-“

“Oh, come on. We’ve all done it. These damn bottles look so alike! I hardly know the difference between a feather fall and an angelic sleep spell, Gale. It could happen to any of us.” Tav replied, their words rather sharp. Gale flinched, looking down at his fully restored hands.

“I cannot live on if I do not have a clear source of escape should things turn the wrong way,” Gale replied, honest-hearted words clashing with the things he was actually thinking. Yes, he felt that way, but did he think that way? Hardly.

Truth be told, Gale was angry with Mystra. At least, a small part of him was. He had done everything to love her, to prove his love, going so far as bestowing this upon himself, and instead of helping, she cast him aside. If she truly loved him as she claimed to, would he even be here? Why had she left him like this- surely death would have been much kinder. This was just plain cruel.

“I don’t want you to think like that, Gale. I want you with me, with our party, for as long as you can be. You’re supposed to stay by our side, not have a plan to leave us,” Tav took his hands in their own again, looking him in the eye. “Please, Gale. I want you to live. I need you to live. Planning your demise does no one any good, especially not yourself.”

“Mystra-“

“Enough about Mystra!” Tav dropped his hands, frustrated now. “We know. I know. Why are you so devoted to her when all she’s done is bring you pain? It makes no sense to me that you would continue to suffer in her name. You need to be free, Gale. Netherese orb or not, and whether you like it or not, you’re in this tadpole journey with us. I don’t give two damns what Mystra thinks or feels. This is about you, not her.”

Those words struck him. Yes, that tiny part of him agreed, Mystra was harsh for leaving him like this. She was rather harsh to toss him aside after doting on him and his abilities for so many years. But the larger part of him outweighed that piece, and he could only help but feel guilty for thinking such things about her.

“But-“

“No buts, Gale. You’re going to stop this stupid ‘I’m going to blow myself up for Mystra’ nonsense. I know it’s a part of who you are, we all have things we have to deal with, but please. For me, for all of us, you can’t go on with this weight on your back.” Tav sighed, taking his face gently in their hands and wiping away his tears.

“I’ll try to do better, I promise,” Gale replied, letting his face rest in their soothing hands. Why did he always hurt those that he loved? He couldn’t answer that. He never could.

“The next time you start contemplating your death, please, Gale, talk to me. Talk to any of us! We all want to be here for you, and I know I would be so incredibly miserable if we lost you,” They looked into his eyes and pulled his head against their own. Their foreheads touched, Gale’s eyes shut, and for a brief moment, he felt at peace. No matter what happened he knew he had friends to rely on. And for that, he was thankful.

Tav made sure he was alright before returning to the campfire to rest. He tucked the poison into the furthest part of his bag, laid himself to rest, and let his mind slip away into the night.

He would keep the poison and the letter handy, just in case, and it would take quite some time for him to be fully able to talk to the others when he was feeling like exploding, but it would happen. Eventually, he would be okay. Eventually, he would find peace.

[layraket]

Day 5 - Sunburn

Character(s): Four and Shadow (LU)

Words: 772

Summary: Shadow tries to stay out in the sunlight, Four told him to not do it

Whump scale: 2 (see the full scale here)

Warnings: Burns, it's not that graphic but just to make sure

-

Traveling with the chain has been a whole adventure, literally.

They were all kind and fun, even the veteran who tried his best to hide that soft spot for the younger ones.

Us included. Maybe you, I’m already old enough. Guys we’re all the same age.

While the three colors discussed the fourth was worrying about their secret friend.

Shadow has been living inside their, well, shadow since Link reemerged, them learning this a year after. It was a little hard at the start, but they figured out a way to communicate with sign.

The demon wasn’t completely trapped, with the shard that Vio grabbed from the broken Dark Mirror he was able to become physical. The problem is, this only worked when the sun wasn’t touching him.

“I don’t think it is a good idea” They had this argument already too many times, and Four didn’t wanted to risk Shadow’s life for an experiment.

Wow, Vio not putting someone at risk for the sake of knowledge? That is really new. Don’t start. You know is true!

‘But what if now I’m able to walk in the light? I could convince the others that I’m not gonna kill them!’ The signs were a little sloppy but at least made sense.

“You only have one small shard of the mirror, even with the whole thing the light harmed you.” Four sighed “I don’t think it is enough.”

Normally talking with Shadow would be only limited to signs, but with the rest of the chain occupied and with the excuse of going for firewood communication was easier.

‘We’ll never know!’ Before Four could say anything a figure in his likeness emerged from his shadow.

There was a beat.

Shadow opened one eye to check, then smiled “See? Now I can help you with the fire–“

The demon started burning, in the literal way. Burns were already covering his body and screams filled with pain came with them.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!” Was the first thing that Four said, letting the firewood aside and already trying to cover the shadow being from the light.

“BURNS BURNS BURNS! LINK IT BURNS SO MUCH!” Smoke came from him and the smell of burnt flesh was strong.

In theory this wasn’t a natural body, his flesh was made with magic. So, it is possible with Dark Magic to create a full working body?

Vio! This is not the right time! He’s gonna turn into ash! Do something! Ugh he made this to himself! Let him burn a little Blue that’s too cruel! It’s not my fault that the idiot decided to become roasted cucco– GUYS.

Right. Shadow was being burned alive.

“Hold on a little!” He tried to cover the demon with his body, to give him an opportunity to go back to his shadow, or at least to protect him from the light.

“M-make it stop!” The damage was already big, the burns being bigger than some seconds before and already covering a big part of his face.

If he didn’t act fast Shadow will die. A third time. He doesn’t want to be responsible for it again.

Four lifted him carefully and ran towards some spot where the shadow was more prominent, maybe like that the sun wouldn’t be able to hurt him more.

There wasn’t a moment where Shadow let go of Four’s tunic, tears coming non-stop from his red eyes and the smell of smoke becoming more and more strong.

Finally, in the safety of a tree’s shadow, the demon was able to start healing himself. The damage was big, almost his whole body was covered with sunburns and it made harder to mitigate the pain.

Four finally with his mind calmer, allowed himself to breathe. “Better?” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to bring again the panic of the shadow being.

“Mmhmm…” He didn’t dare to let go of Four’s tunic, keeping a death grip that made his knuckles turn white.

“Deep breaths, Shady, keep making deep breaths…” Even with a body that was basically made with Dark Magic, it was very warm. Maybe for the sunlight.

After what felt like an hour Shadow was able to go back to Four’s shadow, now safe in his little hiding spot.

They came back to camp, luckily nobody heard Shadow’s screams and noticed how Four twitched with the mention of how long he took.

The lesson of the day? If Vio tells you that it is a stupid idea, maybe listen to him.

That isn’t true. Shut up. 

[theoldoor]

Hello tumblr it is your daily dose of fenrot (fenrir brainrot)

On today’s episode we return with more kakavasha x fenrir / aventurine x eifenhe THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG ONE PLEASE BEAR WITH ME

Thats it

Thats

Literally what they are

—- Aventurine’s part… this one is rather shallow i need to work on it more

Kakavasha aided Fenrir greatly by accommodating his partial blindness by being his eyes in talia, they were an inseparable duo. The thief and the getaway driver. The distraction and the agent. Etc… Well mostly due to obligation to the other party, but the obligation soon grows to be affection and they were doing it willingly without being asked.

Obligation as in Aventurine needed a guide to live in Talia and Fenrir needed a pair of eyes to navigate through Talia so it was initially just transactional that they helped each other as they both win. You know, a good deal also comes with some other gifts and that was their growing affection for one another. Platonic, family whatever the relationship status is they will still care for each other unconditionally at that point, even if they were enemies.

Aventurine, then was Kakavasha and Eifenhe was Fenrir. They have both left their past behind, recycled what their scars had taught them to knowledge to survive in that deserted plains. I think that’s a beautiful thing to Talia as well. The junkyard of Galaxy where everyone cared for survival, your past wouldn’t matter, as long as you live that’s all that matters. Maybe that’s why Aventurine/Kakavasha thrived there, and so did Fenrir. They could literally just renew themselves, in exchange of dropping their humanity for the sake of survival. But that is a trade which they have no power to decline - Talia gives you no other choice but to survive.

—- but Talia is not total rebirth, it’s recycling

“In your distance, I find my desperation.”

“In your closeness, I find my fear.”

One would still have scars of their past, and that is exactly what Fenrir and Aventurine/Kakavasha had as their obstacle

Fenrir - cares for other to distract himself from caring for himself because he’s to afraid to confront his own issues as he knew it would be a hard thing to accomplish, and he’s scared to open up because what if other will think of him differently? What if they think he’s disgusting?

Aventurine - distance from others so that he wouldnt hurt them by making them care because he believes he’s not worth being cared for. Aventurine wouldn’t open up either for somewhat of the same reason.

Both seeks to be understood but refuse to be weak.

—Put this in a scenario

Be mean or be quiet.

Fenrir, he would want you to be mean. Cruel even, hurt him or kill him. Just don’t stay quiet and let him care.

Aventurine, he would stay quiet. He would let himself rot, to be hurt, to die. Just to free the others from the hassle of dealing with him.

Desperately helping an individual who believes there is no cure is a good trope but i need to figure out how to write it. Or like the Doctor is sick with the same illness trying to treat the patient who believes the cures the doctor is saying is bluff because he has the same illness. Lol.

—- Fenrir’s part —-

No matter how ‘ruined’ and ‘broken’ a temple is, as long as there is faith, there will still be respect and devotion and that is Fenrir and Aventurine.

Fenrir will not stop loving others, he will devote himself to everyone and anyone - as long as they return affection and acknowledgement but not too much. Make sure to run, make sure to keep him on a hook because if you shower him with love, he’ll think it’s fake and run away himself. So Aventurine distancing himself actually works :P

BEAR WITH ME— AVENTURINE AS THE RUINED TEMPLE

Aventurine, when he was with the clan and was full of potential, waging with luck but is now only a shadow of that former self as he is invalidated and traumatized through his past with slavery and now burdened with being in the IPC - his constant smile hides a fractured soul, much like the crumbling walls of a temple that concealed its past glory.

The constant distance he kept from others to protect them from the burden he believe he would put on them would make him seem unreachable. And his first-impressions is like this all out brazen-bravado guy that you admire ties more to the ruined temple as the place was once a place of reverence, maybe people could tour outside, but left in desolation once you look closer due to its unstable structure within.

We all know Aventurine’s past - the stories of bloodshed, etc. Much like the old relics in the ancient temple that held stories of a fallen glory. Many people would see it as “just an empty and dusted relic”, which is what Aventurine would probably see about his past as well, nothing of value. But to historians, the scholars, it is a blessing to find fragments of its story. And also, the avgins being ethnically cleansed… oouuuHHHHHG AAWWDD - Rich of history and honor, yet scarred and hidden from plain sight.

NOW ONTO FENRIR’S PART- FENRIR AS THE FAITH

It’s… literally his character. The devoted. The dog that follows.

Fenrir’s tendency to prioritize others’ needs over his own is a clear example of his unwavering faith and devotion. He will search for the good in things to believe in them, yk’know the stupid dog, even in things that are inherently bad. Much like a believer that see divine in a place of worship, even if their faith is in the wrong place, even if the place is in ruins - his faith in Aventurine’s potential and his commitment to staying regardless as he saw Kakavasha before Aventurine, despite that he’ll be hit with the latter’s distance and fears for his closeness.

Within Avidity (talia clan), Fenrir is established to be a caretaker, mediator and a restorer of sort. His care is a reaction to distract himself from the main issue, himself, but also a sort of hope - to bring back Kakavasha, revitalize that young and hopeful spirit even after he knew how it had grown to Aventurine. A devoted prayer fixing the temple for their faith. He will not keep praying to the broken temple. HE WILL BUILD IT FROM SCRATCH IF HE MUST.

This also carries on to Fenrir’s constant chase for validation. Despite Aventurine’s retreat and the metaphorical crumbling of his defense, Fenrir would always chase to support him. If a devotee’s know that their object of faith is crumbling, they’ll still persist to maintain their belief. Fenrir is devoted to Aventurine, affectionately but borderline religiously… :freaky:

— FOR THE BOTH OF THEM:

The interdependence:

Aventurine and Fenrir depended heavily on one another, whether if they like it or not. It was Talia, the Kingdom of Banditry, the Junkyard of the Galaxy that they live in. The place was cruel and they must rely on one another to live.

Similarly to the temple and the devotee, they cannot exist meaningfully without the other.

Religious trauma (my thoughts are trailing off FFAWWWK)

Aventurine’s religious trauma and Fenrir’s atheism… hehehahauahAAAAAUUUGHH

Fenrir never believed in Aeons, gods or whatnot. Well he knew they existed, but he did not put faith in them as he knew they would do him no good due to his past of trying to rely on them but they all ignored him. However, he betrayed this belief for Aventurine. He believed in Aventurine, devoted in even. (Ok this soudns kinda toxic but BEAR WITH ME ITS NOT ITS AFFECIONTALEY)

But his belief is out of a imaginary salvation or blessing, he believes in Aventurine so deeply is because out of his own personal conviction and trust for the man. He believes in Aventurine because Aventurine heard him while no one else had.

And Fenrir, as mentioned above, he won’t use some divine blessing as protection. He doesn’t believe in that. He will go head in, he will build the temple (aventurine lol) back up, brick by brick bare hands if he must. He is practical, as taught by living in Talia.

Aventurine would of course notice the devotion to him, and obviously gets reminded of his past and the Giathra Triclops… eheheheuh…. But what separates them is that, Fenrir relies on him - not any other force. The place is being restored not through divine intervention, not from others, but through the personal effort of Fenrir.

(Ok fuck im rambling im trailing off now but WE GOT ONE MORE SECTION TO GET THROUGH - THE BROKEN MIRROR X FRAME AND SPEAKER X FLY WILL AND FLAG POLE X WAR TORN FLAG WILL COME TMR!!!)

—- THIS WILL BE A SHORT ONE DEAD LANGUAGE X LINGUIST

Its similar to the ruined temple and the devotee, but this one reflects more onto their post-talia time and more direct considering their post-talia quest is Fenrir and Aventurine shit talking in Avgin sigonian and everyone is trying to figure out what the hell theyre doing because everyone is freaking out as the room theyre trapped in is being infiltrated by a Riddler.

Within Talia, their dependence were a necessity to survival, but now they’re back on their feet theyre justttt chillinggg.g

—-

FUUUCKK OK READ THIS ONE CUZ IM TRAIING OFF, IN CONCLUSION FOR THE DEAD LANGUAGE X LINGUIST

- Literal and direct connection to Avgins and Fenrir’s dedication for linguistics (he wrote a dissertation about the Avgin-Sigonian dialect as a thank you gift to Aventurine)

- Fenrir having a PhD in linguistics and Masters in Archeology -> a literal linguist and historian

- Aventurine being guarded and of a ethnically cleansed race -> a dead language, full of mystery and history

- Fenrir’s patience and persistent efforts to understand Aventurine -> understanding a dead language, reviving lost words and tales from Aventurine

- A dead language is useless to most people. But to linguist they’re a treasure -> Aventurine thinking he dookie but hes literally Fenrir’s everything + Fenrir will love regardless Aventurine for Aventurine, regardless of relationship status and if he could use Aventurine or not

Ok im logging off now brainrot is enough

—— scrapped but i like to include this in for lenght

Its obvious, Aventurine is the dead language, once vibrant and full of meaning but now lost and obscure. Also direct reference to the Avgins being exterminated.

+ His past of being guarded makes him complex and enigmatic, much like an ancient language.

Fenrir, having a literal PhD in Linguistics, its so obvious with this one lol. Now that he doesn’t need to build up Aventurine or anything, he takes his time to still devote to the man by understanding him. He wanted to understand Avgin-Sigonian partially because its his chosen field of interest, but also, he wanted to understand Aventurine. (And the Riddlers are trying to ruin the last bit of Avgin Sigonian, despite being in the same faction, Fenrir does not want them meddling with the few last trace of Avgins cuz… aventurine)

It’s not necessarily reviving Avgin Sigonian, it’s more like Fenrir comprehending the language to make sure, even if there were no more speakers, the language would be written in history in a way. Fenrir trying to understand Aventurine’s structure through the language now that he’s no longer a need, but a want for Aventurine lol so he needs to make sure he’s still relevant to Aventurine in a way. (Ok im trailing off a little too much here.)

[elizabeethan]

Not With Haste

An Overboard Conclusion

Oh hi, where the hell did this come from? I'm wondering the same thing. in reality, @donteattheappleshook talked to me about oarfish maybe 2 years ago and I started writing something stupid. I always intended to finish it and post it for @the-darkdragonfly's birthday, but I never found it in me to complete it. Then tonight I found that stupid thing and I finished it. You never know when that funny little creativity bug might bite, I guess.

I've always wanted to write some form of conclusion for Overboard because it's one of my favorite things that I've written. I first published Overboard way back in May of 2021, and looking back, I've grown and learned a lot and there are things I would probably do differently if I started the story over again, but I can't see myself ever editing it because I love what I wrote. Would I rewrite it into a novel and really flesh out the story and the characters? A girlie can dream, never say never, you never know when the creativity bug might bite, etc.

I hope everyone here is well, I know I am for the most part, and I'll never stop being grateful for this little community that I found all those years ago. More than that, I'll never stop being grateful for the feeling of being able to come back after a time away. It's been fun to log back in to everything and pick up where I left off as if no time has passed. (It's been so long since I've done this so if the formatting is all messed up, I'm really sorry, but I barely knew what I was doing.)

Long story short, this story is finally complete. It's barely edited and it's not beta'd, so thank you for giving it a chance.

Rated T I think

~2300 words

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Even after sixteen years of marriage, Killian often finds himself wondering what on earth could possibly be going through his wife’s head. 

  The thoughts of wonderment and confusion strike him at the oddest of times, always in response to something she’s said or done and never with any sort of answer. The first time he knew he was in trouble was fifteen years ago, when he returned home from a trip to find she had adopted a rottweiler. Still, Ripple refuses to retire from her post as the Jones’ Harbor Tours’ mascot, and Emma often tries to convince him that it’s because she’s as stubborn as her father. 

  In truth, Emma Jones is the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life, a fact which will likely never be contested. 

  He finds himself confused so often that he can barely recount any examples of her free spirited nature. (She calls herself a wild child, although she often shouts at him whenever he uses the term in bed.) There was the time she impulsively began tearing up the tile flooring in the bathroom after watching three whole YouTube tutorials (her words), only to sob into his already sea-soaked sweater when she realized how physically taxing reflooring an entire room is without any experience, general tiling knowledge, materials, or help. Then there was the time she randomly asked him if he would still love her if she was a worm, and then became irrationally angry when he found himself unable to answer without first asking clarifying questions. And the incident when she questioned his loyalty to her when he refused to hunt down and kill the person who bumped into her parked car and drove off. He later discovered that the question came after she had finished some romance novel about the mafia. He chose not to dig any deeper into that one.

  All this to say: Killian’s wife is a free spirit, a wild child, a confusing, strange, barely-readable woman who stole his heart in one breath and has yet to give it back almost two decades later. 

  And, he has no idea what the bloody hell she’s talking about more than half the time. 

  He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): have you ever see this??? In the wild??????

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: What are you doing?

  He shakes his head, as exasperated as he is filled with a warm sense of comfort, just like he always is whenever he sees the name she gave herself the moment their vows were exchanged pop onto his phone screen.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): they inhabit the atlantic ocean. *vomiting emoji*

  Killian: Stop watching National Geographic if it’s going to make you nauseous. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): that’s where you worked!!

  Killian: That’s also where we live.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you never saw one in your sexy fisherman days? LOOK at that thing. 

  Killian quickly discovers that she’s referring to an Oarfish. They’re the longest known bonefish and inhabit very deep water, are rarely seen or caught alive, and are thought to be generally harmless. Still, he knows that these facts will not prevent his wife from overreacting, so he chooses not to bother. 

  Though she’s always hidden it well, Emma has a strange fear of creatures of the deep, as she often calls them. She’s told him that the tuna he used to pull onto the deck of his boat didn’t bother her– even though they were often almost twice her height in length and weighed upwards of 1,000 pounds– because they were no longer in the water. But the thought of running into one of those slimy bastards while swimming gives her panicky symptoms— her words. He hasn’t bothered to point out the absolute impossibility of her ever running into a giant bluefin tuna while swimming, either. After sixteen years of marriage, he’s learned which battles are better left unfought. 

  Of course, there are times when his correcting her drives her absolutely mad, often to the point of her feeling compelled to kiss him in order to shut him up, and he navigates those moments very carefully and with a smirk on his lips. 

  Killian: They aren’t known to be predatory.

  Emma (Trophy Wife) disliked “They aren’t known to be predatory.”

  Killian: Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: You see? They have small mouths and no teeth. Harmless.

  It’s unlike her to wait so long to reply, as she’s often glued to her phone at least when she’s mid conversation. But it’s almost a full two minutes that he finds himself standing in front of the display of pasta sauce, looking like a complete fool and blocking the path of an elderly woman, breath bated as he waits for a response from her. Bloody hell, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head. He’s known the woman for eighteen years and he still can hardly breathe in anticipation of whatever adorably inane thought leaves her mouth without any sort of filter. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Video

  Lovely. Even as he watches the attached video of her silently dry heaving, he’s desperately in love with her. He watches it again. 

  Her blonde hair has gone lighter over the years, streaks of white coloring through the gold in a way that makes her look somehow even more sexy and playful than when he first laid eyes on her. There are soft creases beside her eyes as she squeezes them shut, her mouth open and her tongue out as she pretends to be so violently offended by the image he sent her that it’s made her ill. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): expect consequences when you get home. even if you get the good mac and cheese. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you KNOW how i feel about serpents and sea monsters. 

  Killian: I do. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): … and????

  Killian: I’m sorry for traumatizing you with my serpent. 

  Killian: And for how that just sounded. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): if you’re not home in 34 minutes i’m not touching your serpent for two whole days. 

  Killian: Well, now that I'm familiar with your gag reflex… 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): 33 minutes. 

  ~~~~

  Ripple is the oldest dog Killian has ever known. Her silver snout and eyebrows catch in the setting sun, and it’s painfully obvious from her gait how sore her joints are, but still, at his arrival home, she hurries her way towards him with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. 

  Their vet has told them that she’s the healthiest dog he’s treated in a while, considering her age, and Emma uses that as a point of pride for their perfect child. 

  “Hi, darling,” he says when she finally reaches him, her soft smile lighting up her face once he drops the reusable grocery bags in order to give her a scratch behind the ears. Killian’s getting up there in age, too, but he still manages to squat down to her level and kiss her nose. 

  The two of them make quite the pair while Killian struggles back into a standing position and then they both hobble towards the front door. His fishing career was lucrative and rewarding, but dammit if it didn’t lead to stiff joints that his wife pokes fun at. She’s never met a “my husband is older than me” joke she hasn’t loved. 

  “I’m glad you both made it,” she happily chortles from the kitchen, making him smile. He’s never smiled more widely than he does with Emma. 

  “The abuse I’m subjected to,” he mutters as he drops the bags on the floor for her to peruse. It’s a deal they made years ago; Killian does the shopping because the grocery store makes Emma too itchy, and she puts the groceries away in exchange. 

  She snorts when she pulls out the bag of goldfish, sending Killian a playful smirk. “Looks like a good haul.”

  “Aye, love. I thought you might enjoy a fishy treat after our conversation.”

  “Always so thoughtful,” she murmurs as she makes her way to him. The kitchen is small, but they’ve always had just enough space for the three of them. 

  “It’s a difficult cross to bear,” he nods, catching her wrist as soon as she’s close enough to pull towards him. “But anticipating your needs is one of the many responsibilities I take very seriously.”

  Emma’s hands land on his neck, fingers tangling with the silver hair at the back of his head while her thumbs trace along his jaw. She likes to call him a silver fox when she’s feeling playful. “My perfect husband,” she says softly, voice syrupy sweet in that way that still manages to get him excited. 

  “I couldn’t be a perfect husband without my perfect wife,” he answers, earning a beaming grin that he barely catches before her lips press to his. 

  It never ends. The way he wants her has been an inferno so intense since the day they met, and it hasn’t been snuffed out in all these years. The moment she’s near him, his blood starts to simmer, and once she touches him, kisses him like she is now, he’s a goner. 

  Her tongue is soft as it sweeps over the seam of his lips, lazily working to deepen the kiss they share. She kissed him with urgency, but not with haste, never rushing but always desperate. It’s enough to have him pushing her backwards, her lower back softly pressing against the counter before he lifts her onto it. Emma’s legs part seemingly without her even thinking about it, and before either of them have a chance to put the rotisserie chicken in the refrigerator, he wonders if he should just carry her to their room. Part of him has this never ending need to show her just how desperate he still is for her. 

  But then, she speaks. 

  “Wait,” she breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly as her warm breath fans over his mouth, her forehead still pressed to his and her fingers clinging to the collar of the light sweater he wears. 

  “Yes, love?” he asks, perfectly prepared to answer whatever silly question she likely has as long as he can have her after. 

  “About the oarfish…”

  He fights a groan. “I promise you, there is absolutely no chance of you ever seeing an oarfish for as long as you live.”

  “I know, I did plenty of research while you were gone.”

  He breathes out a soft laugh, his smile growing when she kisses it. “What’s wrong, then?”

  “Would you still love me if I was an oarfish?”

  His world stops for just a moment. Just a second, really, as he tries to right his mind and will a tiny bit of blood back to his brain so that he can answer this very unimportant and yet somehow very vital question correctly. 

  “If you were an oarfish,” he starts, hand sliding up from her hip to her ribs before finding her cheek, “then I would be an oarfish. And we would be married and have a pet… eel, perhaps. Named Ripple. And we would live in a tiny oarfish cottage and be happy and in love for as long as oarfish live.”

  Emma sighs, the softest smile on her perfect lips making him crazy as her arms wrap around his neck in one of his favorite hugs. 

  “I love you,” she whispers into his ear. He’ll never tire of this. Of the soft, almost unfathomable way that the love they have for one another strikes at the most random times. 

  “I love you, too, Swan. Always. No matter what species we are.”  

  “And I love you, no matter how much older you are than me.”

  He grabs her then, hoisting her against him to the best of his ability as her ankles cross at his back. “Disrespectful,” he murmurs, carrying her from the kitchen and happily forgetting about the frozen broccoli florets, not cuts she made him buy. 

  “You better teach me a lesson, then,” she taunts with a smirk, as if that isn’t exactly what she was after. 

  “Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you want, love.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t get off on giving me exactly what I want.”

  To that, he just returns her smirk and offers a quick smack to her ass before dropping her onto the bed they share, because he knows she’s right. For the rest of his days, he’ll be happy, as long as he has his family. 

~~~~

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[cravingpepsimax]

hs reference like a flashbang aside, choosing a dave and rose excerpt activated something in my brain. (stan voice) it’s just like them. in a way

one is a certified journal writer mastering the arts of the horrors and homosexuality, while the other’s a comic drawing “”cool”” twin with a touch of big brother worship. ford a constant knowledge (light) seeker. stan and the motif of fire. the similarities obviously stop at the surface level traits but thats actually so funny

actually, i wouldn’t say the similarities are surface-level at all!

both ford and rose deal with the Horrors, yes, but there’s more to that. the reason they deal with them is for the same endgoal — obtaining knowledge. this even results in them both being taken advantage of a nigh-omniscient, devil figure (doc scratch vs bill). like you mentioned, she journals, but i’d also like to point out her walkthrough. kanaya reads her walkthrough, not knowing the identity of rose, creating an idea of her in her head, using it as a reference for her own journey… hey, doesn’t that sound familiar?

also, like, horrorterrors aside, you’re out of your mind if you don’t think ford would have a book called “grimoire for summoning the zoologically dubious”. like, title alone, that’s a ford thing.

like ford, rose thinks of herself as a character in a story, rather than just… a person (light player moment). she’s surprisingly calm about sacrificing herself to create the Green Sun, like how ford had resigned himself to being trapped in various hell dimensions, as long as that meant his dimension being safe from bill. also, they’re both nerds that are terrifyingly good at combat.

the rose-ford parallels aren’t shit compared to the dave-stan parallels, though.

they’ve both got a father that isn’t easily impressed, that pushes them to learn how to fight and how to fight well, who wears sunglasses 24/7. they both seem to have complicated feelings about their father, despite their father being shitty & abusive.

despite their detached appearances, both stan and save genuinely care for those close to them, and will do drastic things to protect them. becoming davesprite, dying for jade, actually just dying a lot in general (time player moment), and sacrificing himself for the Green Sun are just a few examples of this.

neither of them really want to do what they’re doing, either. dave doesn’t like time travel. it’s complicated. it’s scary. he’s afraid of his own mortality, and time travel involves a LOT of death. not just his own, either — if he fucks it up, he could end up killing literally everyone. but he does it anyways, because he has to.

stan hates science and math. growing up, he struggled in school, even with the smartest kid in school being his brother. but he still taught himself everything he needed to know to get the portal up and running — with only a third of the instructions. he did shit he hated, complicated shit he hated, for 30 years, because he had to. despite ford criticizing his recklessness, there’s not a single timeline where ford gets sucked into the portal and stan DOESN’T try to save him. and, just like how dave sacrifices himself for the Green Sun, stan’s willing to have his memory wiped for the sake of beating bill. sure, the Green Sun might’ve led to dave god tiering, but dave didn’t know that — just like how stan didn’t know his memory would come back.

they’ve also got the whole “i’m not a hero” thing, despite regularly doing heroic things.

(also, couldn’t find a gif of it, but ford calling stanley a hero both in the show after his sacrifice & in the journal)

also, just… read the aspect descriptions for light and time and tell me that isn’t ford and stan. especially time for stan.

…also, erm, fitting the themes of this blog, dave has… some stuff going on

also apparently davesprite and his rose may have gotten together according to the hs book commentary but i don’t own those and i can’t find an actual like. image or anything so don’t quote me on that lmao

[benevolentcalamity]

Dragon (Maythyr) x Female!Reader [3/3]

Now, I do believe Maythyr may be the husbando I wanted him to be, which makes me very happy. So as a special treat, you guys get the special third part! Now you can fuck him. :D

My special, loving regards to my dear friend Chelsea, without whom this would’ve never been remembered.

Enjoy!

Warning: This fic contains smut, pregnancy, and references to parental alcoholism.

CURTAINS!

You remember it well, even moreso than the day you discovered him for the first time.

Maythyr had earned your father's respect and your mother's gentlehearted approval. Not just because of him clearly being a seasoned warrior, but his accolades through his time - some of them more ambiguous due to him being a dragon in disguise - as well as the good words of praise in the letters he brought. Those were surely just to stroke his own ego, but he had the knowledge of human societal customs to know he could walk the walk and provide proof of his footprints.

Now to be honest, your father is indeed the 'what you do to my daughter, I do to you' kind, which may also be why you would have men lined out the door for you if not for him. Then again that's likely so that anybody that can get past him is worthy of even breathing your air... Which is a fair improvement when he's been drinking.

After a hearty dinner with them, during which Maythyr spoke - rather happily in fact - of his recent campaign in the north. Luckily for him his armor implied what his words did not: he was from the northern kingdoms, defending them. He would go on to whisper to you that he was actually just usurping them, but he didn't have it in him to displease your parents in such a way or give them cause for concern.

Once all was said and done, he knelt before your parents - something he himself said he'd only ever do for you - and asked for your hand in marriage. After a bombarding of questions that would make the most patient of sages enraged, he received their blessing.

At first, you have admitted it confused you. By all rights, Maythyr didn't have to - he could've just swooped you up and gotten you the easy way. But in his words, the easy way was doing it 'properly' to minimize the amount of people that would be upset with him down to the boys that would chase your hips if you weren't careful. And besides, to just do that would undo all the hard work he put in to ‘appear’... well, human.

So to the village itself, he is a living legend. To you, he’s the Dragon God of War.

Now that the recap is just about over, the little extra pages that don’t mean anything will be flipped to this current moment.

The ceremony was planned admittedly quickly, as Maythyr agreed to marry you in the village. Not to say he had plans of taking you elsewhere far away - he did, you know, he just doesn’t mention it - but it wouldn’t be fair for him to have received their blessing and not witnessed the two of you together. It’s the sort of thing that kills a dragon inside, but according to him it stopped being the sort of thing that bothers him centuries ago. Actually he said decades, but you humor him.

So you’re standing here, in a white gown, as your mother gives the final touches on your hair.

“And not to worry, sweetheart,” She softly assures, tucking some stray strands back into your ‘do. “I’ll make sure [dad’s name] doesn’t drink too much.”

“I am concerned, mom, that he’s been drinking too much lately,” You frown. “It’s one thing to have some ale to take the anxious edge off, but to drink almost a full pint every couple days...”

“Believe me, it worries me as well.” She sweetly kisses your cheek. “But not to worry, Malcolm-” the village elder- “and the others will be watching him carefully.”

It is true. Your dad’s a very cheery drunk, it’s true, but he’s long forgotten what it’s like to be clearheaded and sober. When last you asked when he’d been sober, he simply pulled you into a hug and said you had beautiful eyes. Either he had no idea what you asked him, or he did know and just decided not to burden you with the truth. Whatever it is, it’ll eventually tear this family apart.

But for now, you’ll be assured everyone will make sure he’s not as drunk. Though you are brought back from those concerns when she softly nudges your arm.

“You just concentrate on Maythyr. Today is the day for both of you - nothing else matters, alright?” She finishes straightening everything out. “I’m so proud right now... My baby’s found someone!” Now it’s your turn to prevent the waterworks. “No, no... Sorry, I lost myself for a moment. Are you ready?”

You smile.

“Let’s do this.”

___

Now, considering this is a mountain village, it would be forgiven - expected, even - to not have a simple chapel. However, you lot are lucky, considering a few clergymen became a congregation, and finally with the help of donations one was erected. A huge one was unwanted, unnecessary, and so it’s a quaint building with the stained glass and angelic statues to signify the love you all poured into it. The presence of God is strong there.

Once you’re at the doors, that’s when dad hurries over. You sigh in admitted relief upon seeing his skin crystal clear and not a stagger in his step.

“Thanks, dad,” You say softly as he loops your hand into his arm, to which he gives a squeeze.

“I’m not missing a day like this,” He replies, kissing the side of your head - and undoing some of your mom’s handiwork. “Oops.”

“He won’t notice some stray hairs,” You chuckle. “... Alright, let’s do this.”

As if on cue, the doors open with a resounding, somewhat elegant ‘creak’. Rows of people dressed to the nines stand up, making a perfect aisle. Swallowing, you walk in perfect tandem with your father, nodding at some of the happy faces so that your frayed nerves will begin to calm down.

Once you look up again, there’s a breathtaking sight.

Maythyr’s abandoned his armor. Instead some deep black and white flowing robes teasing his chest a bit - you would swoon if he wasn’t wearing pants - blow in the faint breezes. His hair pouring down his back as the mountain streams, he looks right out of a fantasy novel from once upon a time. Sharply lined sapphire eyes crinkle in unfiltered happiness at the sight of you.

Wordlessly dad kisses your cheek, passing your hand to Maythyr’s awaiting one, and you stand opposite your dragon. With his touch, cradling your hands with utter delicacy, your troubles and anxieties melt to the wind, and for a moment you don’t even register anymore the music being played at the far side.

“I bid you all welcome,” The pastor greets. “We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate one of life’s greatest moments, which shall unite [Name] [Last Name] and Knight Maythyr-” Oh, that’s right, Maythyr neglected a last name- “in matrimony.”

Blinking, you note some figures outside each window, and lean in, which Maythyr reciprocates as the pastor continues. “Maythyr, do you know them?” You whisper.

He nods, keeping his voice down. “They are my fellows.” A wink; they’re dragons too. “I gathered them during my campaign, and about commanded them to bear witness and protect us.”

“Us, you mean... well, myself,” You chortle, and it only gets worse when he chuckles in affirmation. “You do think of everything.”

“To be expected from a god of war such as I, my dear.” He sneaks a tap to your nose. “I’m more marvelous than you think.”

“Try me,” You smile, earning a suggestive smirk before you straighten your backs in unison, continuing to listen to the sermon.

“-And who choose to spend the rest of their lives together.” The pastor looks between you two with a playful scolding look. “This ceremony does not birth a new relationship between the pair of you, nor are old ties forgotten and cast into nothingness. Rather, it is the binding of your two hearts, two souls, that your love may become whole, overcoming every trial and obstacle life shall bring, and join you as one in the eyes of the gods.”

“Alvis!” A hushed voice from the dark corners by the door perks up your ears. “You idiot! That’s your cue!”

Chortling, you watch as a scarlet haired man, clearly a bit boggled, elegantly steps through the aisle, a pillow in his hands. For a moment he gives Maythyr an annoyed glance completely ignored, long ears twitching as he hands the pillow to the pastor, whom unfolds the fabric atop it. Once his work is done he retreats behind Maythyr, folding his hands before his stomach.

... Ah?

Maythyr taps your one hand in reply - a message that he will explain later - before having to break from you to receive one of the rings. It’s a fine iron, as opposed to the traditional gold. To you it means more, for reasons you’ll find words for soon, and to Maythyr it’s a symbolism of your silent, pure, and true acceptance of his being a dragon. It melts his prideful countenance, if for a moment, and clearly he’s having to restrain himself from kissing you right there.

Not yet.

“Maythyr, if you would put this ring on [Name]’s finger and repeat after me.” Maythyr follows the pastor’s instructions, slipping your ring on and clasping that hand in both of his. “I, Maythyr, do eternally swear.”

“I, Maythyr, do eternally swear.”

“That I shall take thee as my wife.”

“That I shall take thee as my wife.”

“To have and to hold.”

“To have and to hold.”

“Through sickness and in health.”

“Through sickness and in health.” His adam’s apple bounces with a restrained chortle of irony, which you respond to with narrowing your eyes playfully.

“I will give to you my hand and my heart.”

“I will give to you my hand and my heart.”

“T’il death do us part.”

“T’il death do us part.”

You hear mom choking up beside you in the front, but then you’re taken from the sound by the pastor handing you the other ring.

“[Name], if you would put this ring on Maythyr’s finger and repeat after me.”

You nod, slipping the ring onto his finger, clasping his hand in both of yours this time. Man, you feel so small.

“I, [Name], do eternally swear.”

“I, [Name], do eternally swear.”

“That I shall take thee as my husband.”

“That I shall take thee as my husband.”

“To have and to hold.”

“To have and to hold.”

“Through sickness and in health.”

“Through sickness and in health.”

“I will give to you my hand and my heart.”

“I will give to you my hand and my heart.”

“T’il death do us part.”

“T’il death do us part.”

Turning pink, you allow Maythyr to return your hands into comfortably resting inside his, and the sun slowly lights up the room more and more.

“If anyone has just cause for these two not to be joined in union...” The pastor’s voice turns a bit low. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

Nervously, you turn your eyes to the congregation. Your blood runs cold, if for a moment, when dad’s hands twitch ever so slightly. As if noticing your worries, he meets your eyes, giving you a reassuring smile. Simpering, you return your attention to Maythyr, and he gives your hands a soft squeeze.

“Well, then.” The pastor’s voice is jovial once more. “By the power vested in me, I declare [Name] and Maythyr husband and wife.” He then smiles. “Kiss your bride, Maythyr.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Maythyr reaches up to cup your face, pulling you into a deep kiss. There’s cheering, there’s clapping, even some whistling going on, but you don’t care. Deep inside, there’s a stirring feeling, perhaps even a liberating one; like your soul is being warmed by a gentle fire. There’s also a sensation like something kind of poking you, but you choose to ignore that one.

At last... at long last, you’ll be together now.

__

Now this is you we’re talking about - there is no way you, a beloved part of this village, aren’t getting an absolute party  for your wedding. Matter of fact, Maythyr too was all about it, and so before you knew it there were lanterns, song, and dance lighting up the fading dusk. Not to mention the delicious food lining every corner of the venue - even the not-that-hidden dragons Maythyr invited are digging it.

One leg a bit sore from your one dance with your dad, you watch from the punch line - Grizelda’s secret - as he downs his first drink, in the general view of the village elders as promised. Well, at least he’ll be supervised...

A pair of arms loops around your waist, and you smile, reassured, leaning back into Maythyr’s chest.

“I’ll say one thing,” He murmurs, sending chills down your back. “You humans very much know how to throw a party.”

You chortle. “What, dragons don’t dance?” You tease, nudging his arm.

“Our only ‘dance’ is in combat, love.” He gives your ear a nip. “... Elsewhere, too.” The connotations aren’t unnoticed.

Biting your lip, you tilt your head back to meet his eyes properly, him softly toying with the stray strands of hair. “Maythyr.”

“Mmm?” He nuzzles the side of your head.

“My parents must be allowed to see us,” You mention. “I know you don’t like visitors, but... I don’t want to lose my family.”

“... Very well.” He’s a bit begrudging - the generic nature of a dragon being possessive - but his voice doesn’t express it that well. You can detect it all the same. “You are my treasure, but more importantly you are my mate; consider your wishes mine as well.”

You flutter inside, smiling a bit. “And our children, too... How many kids do you want, Maythyr?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, by the gods-!” You playfully smack his forearm, to which he pulls your cheek, the two of you erupting in fits of laughter as his other hand goes and tickles your belly for a moment.

“Come, now.” He starts leading you back towards the party. “If you’re not at all spent, I think it’s time they learned how to dip.”

“Maythyyyyyr!”

The both of you look, and your dad is stumbling over, tanker in hand, giving your new husband some kind of eye. A stinkeye? Can he even give those when he’s almost drunk as all fuck?

At the flick of a wrist, Maythyr readopts the cordial nature he greeted him with when he came back to get you when he promised to. With a smile, the natural growl in his voice is turned way low, and he again appears human even to you for a moment.

“Hello, father,” He greets. “Ah, it is okay to call you father, right?”

“Yes...” Dad drawls. “But you better understand one thing.”

Maythyr crosses his arms, tilting his head feigning an innocent stare.

“What you do to my daughter...” As he swigs his tanker, you notice people keeping their eyes on him. “I do to you.”

Worriedly, you look towards Maythyr, and-

Oh.

Flip-flopping from his innocent expression, his lips stretch into a smile too big for his face, narrowing his eyes and raising his eyebrows before wiggling them. A provocative, suggestive expression, indeed. One that double dog dares your dad to live up to it. An amused snort-hum leaves him, almost leaking fire, but dad’s already so drunk he wouldn’t be able to tell.

Realizing how Maythyr had silently twisted his words, a cold sweat perspires from dad’s face, and he starts stammering in an attempt to backtrack so his new son will stop looking at him like that. He’s drowned out, promptly, by the howling laughter of whoever could understand what was going on. Leaving the kids attending in the dark, the lot of you seemingly reignite the party, and the dancing continues as old Malcom leads dad away to sober up or throw up - one of the two.

“And just so you know,” You remember Maythyr whispering once it’s time for the lanterns to go out, having slipped you into the shadows to steal a kiss. “There’s only one thing dragons are better at than fighting. Do you dare to hazard a guess?”

You grinned.

“You’re on.

___

“A-aah!”

The palace in Arktikania, where the snow masks rotting kills and the howling wind carries song but mutes screams and moans. Dragons under Maythyr’s command as their god of war fly to and fro, fresh from reconnaissance or campaigning. But none dare disturb the palace’s uppermost rooms apart from the throne at the apex.

Why? Well...

“Hnnhhh...” Maythyr purrs, massaging the soft skin of your breasts. “Such a good girl...” Pulling one into his mouth, he sucks hungrily, watching your reactions as you struggle to keep balanced.

The proper answer to Maythyr’s question is on full display. After some non-permanent goodbyes, he took you up here to give you a proper wedding consummation. At least, that was kind of his words - his actual words were a whoooole lot hungrier. Not that they bear repeating, mostly because it’s the sort of thing he rather stay with you.

Both hands tangling into his hair, you arch your back a bit, feeling his other hand slipping down between your legs. Your naked body is protected from the climate by the insulating fabrics that curtain the bed. It’s by no means a small one, considering he also likes sleeping as his dragon self still, so there’s plenty of room for these little games. And being a creature known for being able to rage on for years if they must, well... you’ll be feeling this one when it ends. If you even want it to.

“Maythyr... Ah...” You moan, your head lolling back a bit as you feel his fingers slip into your folds. Wasting no time ‘hooking’ you in with one, his hips grind up into your legs, his lips curling into a smile whilst sucking.

All too soon he breaks from you, lifting you up and plopping you onto your back with ease. Just as you think to complain he lifts your hips, looping his arms around your thighs and pressing them against his ears. An uneven gasp rips from you as his forked tongue laps up your wetness.

“Gh-ah! M-Maythyr-!” You squeak, hands flying back towards his hair.

Like an answer to your prayers, he fully presses his face into your arousal, tongue sliding inside you with ease. Arching into him, your grip on his hair tightens, only seeming to egg him on. As though wanting to see how far you can go his pace quickens, and outside you he nips and sucks where he is able. Every nook and vein is licked and sucked with ravenous greed, and only when he opens his eyes once more and meets your pleading stare do you realize he intends to do more than just absolutely nail you.

An almost devilish grin cements this, before he plasters himself to you once more, going full-force inside you. The tips of his tongue about wrap around your sweet spot, wriggling it until a pulsing inferno bubbles in your hips. Your vision is flooding with the very stars, and your breath is wrenched from you as your heat begins to clamp down and pulsate around him.

“A... Aahh... Ah...!” You let out, before finally your orgasm takes hold. “Aaaaahhh!”

His tongue pulls out, but like a drunkard he’s gulping down all the ambrosia seeping from your trembling pussy, savoring it like a fine wine. Once you’ve given all you’re able right now, he lowers your hips once more,  moving upwards so he can kiss you. Not caring that you can taste yourself on him, you allow your tongue to be wrapped up and played with, his hands holding your head and hips grinding into yours.

Eventually, he pulls away, moving down and nipping at your neck. “I just can’t get enough of you, treasure...” He purrs, both hands caressing your breasts. “Mmm... You’re so warm, my dear... And wet.” He chuckles. “You’re so eager to be this dragon’s prize, aren’t you?”

Sitting up, he spreads your legs widely, nipping at your ankles. Unrestrained, he stares hungrily at the visible clenching.

Finally, you can bear it no longer. “P-please...” You whimper.

He snickers, nibbling at your shins. “Please what, lovely?”

Unsure if you can even hang onto your dignity at this rate, you plead, “Please, Maythyr-! Fuck me!”

His smile doesn’t falter, instead dripping with a beast no longer to be restrained. “Good girl.” Leaning forward, he pushes your knees up to your chest, hovering  so his cock teases your heat. Biting his lip in concentration - by the gods if that isn’t the sexiest thing he does - he loops his arms through your shoulders, parting his thighs to better split your legs.

Wanting to savor this, he nips your lips as he pushes inside, rumbling deep in his chest as his cock effortlessly melds into you. Moving one hand to your belly he rubs the resulting bulge with a chuckle. Once the discomfort fades, you nod, and almost abandoning restraint he’s pumping in and out of you, as if intending to mold you into his cock’s shape.

“Ahhh... Ahh... Aaaah!” You moan, arching up into him as your hands claw at his back. “M-Maythyr-! Aaah!” Stars only begin glittering your vision when he pulls your legs up into his arms, pushing your hips up so he can get even deeper. With each thrust pounding every good spot you’re left mewling, crying out, thankful for every protection around you two. He won’t care about you screaming his name into the arctic winds - matter of fact he’d aim for it. But right now, he’d rather just have this.

“Nngh...” He grunts. “Heh, if I knew you were this good, I’d have figured out a human form the first time you came to me in the mountain.”

You can’t even answer him; any attempt at words just comes out as a squeal or a moan - which he is definitely doing on purpose. After all, he did promise you the night of your life... And it’s hardly past midnight-!

“A-ah?” Something feels different.

Opening your eyes, you watch as Maythyr... shifts, kind of. His black scales become more prominent on his neck and cheeks, eyes more serpentine like his full dragon form. Inside you his cock grows larger, even seeming to change its shape a bit, and you squeak, walls clamping down and pulsing around it. The base of his shapeshifted cock swells, like a bubble, squeezing against your pussy hungrily.

Swallowing, you dare look down, and-

“Oh, by the gods...” You swoon. “M-Maythyr, you’re knotted-!”

“I know...” He groans, pushing it against you impatiently. “... Can you take it all?”

Not even hesitating, you have your legs in a higher position, ready and willing without taking anything else into account. You don’t care how sore you get or how your body has to contort; you need all of his cock. Right now.

“Give  it to me...” You quiver as he begins thrusting again. “Please...”

He leans down, licking up your neck to your jaw. “Very well... My sweet, good girl, I’ll pump you so full you won’t be able to walk for until our babies are born.”

And without a shadow of hesitation he does just that. Every thrust of his cock, his knot squeezes ever so much more, wanting to be inside you. The way your nails scratch the hardened skin of his back eggs him on, perspiration shining his face as his cock nails you until you’re seeing stars. Only occasionally does he swallow your screams with his tongue, which you respond to by desperately clutching his head.

Fuuuck... You moan as your own tongue is subdued and wrapped up, feeling the bubbling heat in your hips once again...

“I-I’m going to...” You breathe, and- “A-AAAAH!”

Almost unceremoniously, the knot pops right inside you, and that’s when Maythyr is at last at the apex. Much like he would as his fully shifted self, he throws his head back, roaring a mighty roar, and before you know it he’s cumming once; twice; a whopping six times with a driving thrust. Even then there’s still more coming out of him, the knot emptying shamelessly into your womb.

Arching, your orgasm has the combined fluids flooding down your skin and to the bed, hanging onto Maythyr as though you’ll die if you let go of him. When at last the tremors of orgasm cease, and the knot is emptied, the both of you collapse.

Falling down behind you, he wraps you up in his arms as his body is once again fully human. Nuzzling into your back, he’s too fatigued for a witty comment or even some risque implication of the morning’s activities. Instead, he’s silent for a moment, caressing your body delicately and embracing you, peppering your skin with kisses.

Nudging you so you open your eyes, he hovers over you a bit, both hands interlocked under your back. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Barely mustering the strength, you nod, reaching up with trembling fingers and caressing the apple of his mocha cheek. Snorting with palpable adoration, he catches your hand in his, kissing the heel and nipping a bit at your wrist.

That’s when you see the same expression he gave on your wedding. A gentle, endearing smile meant only for you, the only proof of his softness.

“... I love you,” He murmurs, lowering down to kiss your lips. “Ah... By the gods, I love you...”

The blizzard outside is silent once more.

___

Beyond thankful that you still are able to, you’re whiling away the quiet hours with your lyre. You’ve gotten so big you can hardly move, what with the babies seeming to multiply in your belly. Nevermind a bowl or a plate, an entire banquet could fit on it, which is a joke you’ve made many a time every meal you share with your husband.

Speaking of him, he yawns, readjusting so his wing continues to shield you as his tail locks it in place. Chortling, you crane your neck to look at him properly, his one eye peeking open once he senses your gaze.

“How are you feeling, love?” He asks, to which you smile.

“I feel like I could pop any day now, honestly, but even I know it won’t be for a time... As much as it looks like it.” Your fingers don’t even miss a string; you suppose you’re still as adept as ever.

“And that is why I’ve sent Alvis to the west in my stead.” The redhead from the wedding; one of his most trusted war generals. “I do not care the severity of matters overseas - t’is my duty as a husband and a father to be here.”

Your smile only grows. “You’ll be a good one, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I will be. And with a treasure like you as my wife and their mother... Hah, they will be this world’s greatest beings.” And there is that classic Maythyr confidence, along with a puff of his soft chest.

“Speaking of, what names should we give them?” You tilt your head. “You haven’t forgotten about that, right?”

“Of course not. Hmmm... Why not a girl’s name, first? Make that a few. I think... Valka, Lymeria, Rosarion... Yorshka?”

“Those are lovely, Maythyr. And for a boy... Hmmm... Tyr, Egil, Ragarruss?”

“Wonderful.” He moves his head so he can nuzzle you, only slightly obstructing your music. “We’ll revisit the storybooks you love so much when next you feel like walking, we’ll have an entire list then. For now, is there anything you need, or you would like? Are you hungry?”

Simpering, you lean back into his belly, the warmth helping you to relax your back. “Hmmm... I have missed mama’s chocolate cake these days.”

His head snaps back with a laugh, and along a warm snort he nuzzles you once more. “Very well.”