#this poll can go choke and die

[dilf-docs]

A Pillar I Am Of Pride

vander x younger!fem reader

summary: you're too young, that's what he tells himself; that you could be one of his kids. but of course you have spent too much time with vi, and unfortunately for him, stubborn rhymes with your name: you just don't know when to quit.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (25ish/45ish), smut, p. in v., ofc there is SIZE KINK who do u think i am (he can choke me with those huge arms idcidc), manhandling, thigh riding, dirty talk, virgin!reader, public sex (they violating every health code on the last drop), belly bulge, cream pie, breeding kink if u squint, this is basically pwp also with happy ending (no one blows up or dies yet THIS IS my story and i say they're all happy as a big family SHUT UP)

word count: 3,142 words

side note: hope the arcane community hasn't died yet, looking at the amount of votes i received on the poll where i asked if y'all wanted stuff from the show. I LOVE VANDER!!! saw the drawing and went insane like A PRIMAL NEED TO WRITE SMTH abt one of zaun dilfs I MEAN who do u think i am???? ++based this little filthy 2D piece on the hozier song dinner and diatribes.

You just don't know when to quit.

Vander isn't dumb. He's lived enough and seen enough. He's lived enough to tell when the admiration became adoration on those big eyes of yours, that looked up to him first but now down without an ounce of shame through his sturdy built whenever you think he isn't looking.

He isn't dumb, so he knows he shouldn't encourage it. Yet, Vander also thinks there is something different about you.

There is this desire to protect you, love you like one of his kids, but there is something unique about you he can't quite tell, enough to differentiate you from viewing you as part of them, even if there's a bed belonging to you next to theirs.

He is a fool, for thinking you wouldn't end up adopting at least one of his or the kids' traits. And of course, lucky him, it had to be Violet's headstrong nature.

"Vander" you call out his name, and he's brought back to the red and the bridge.

He can still see you, eighteen, fighting against an enforcer twice your size: because he took the life of your parents, faces Vander had seen in the mines and then at their meetings, ready to fight in the name of the undercity, for a change and a future: for their daughter.

That is what Vander wants for his kids in Zaun. For you.

So he negotiates with them, even if your eyes fall when you learn the truth one evening, eavesdropping. He pleaded you not to tell the rest, afraid they'll see him differently, just like you. Still, you keep calling his name like you did at the bridge: like a hero; savior. He saved you from death, but you'd die for him.

He keeps his eyes trained on the glass he's wiping as you take a seat in the stools infront of him, unable to look you in the eyes. It kills him; gets harder each passing day. He can't keep lying to himself, but he can lie to you. Protect you, he swore he would do that when he saved you and took Powder and Vi. So, yes, he'll lie his ass off, that his heart too hasn't changed after the years; that it doesn't beat for you and only you.

"Hey, y/n" he forces out, but even saying your name brings him pain.

When did you go from a kid leaving the last remains of hope and naive kids in Zaun drop sooner than others, to a woman equally dangerous in heart and beauty? When did you stop looking like a big sister or a babysitter, to more as a mother to Mylo, Claggor, Powder and Vi?

"Vander" you call again, touching his arm softly, but it burns. It burns.

He stops what he's doing, still without sparing a glance your way.

"C'mon, V." he hates the way such a silly nickname, a monosyllable on top of that, makes him feel. "Look at me, will you?"

He does so, because he can't deny you anything.

"There you go" you laugh easily, as if you didn't know the power you held over him. "Easy, isn't it?"

"You better let me finish" stern, but a smile betrays him.

"No one is stopping you" you huff, "or bothering you"

He finishes the glass, picking up another. "You are"

"Me?" you laugh the accusation off. Then it dies down, and all that's left is the neon hues of outside, reflecting something more mellow, akin to sincerity in your face. "You're right, it's always me"

He doesn't know what to say, all words lost. Silco used to say he knew how to move the people, that masses would follow just by looking at him: Vander always knew what to say.

But as of late, during the end of the day, when it's just you and the dirty glasses he cleans away, Vander finds it hard to speak even, like you're trying to talk in a language he doesn't know, or worst, used to, yet is too old for that now.

"Where is everyone?" he asks, and when you laugh, he knows he's said something stupid. But there are more stupid things to say, like I love you, so he's safe. For now.

"Might be because we're closed" you mock. "The kids are asleep, if that's what you truly wanted to ask. Made sure of it"

The last part, whispered like a secret. He can see the dare laced in between your words, the desire that pours like the drink he's serving you right now, but he's too old to play games.

"Good" then pushes the glass to where you sit. "Drink"

"Is it new?" you inspect the glass. "I hope you're not trying to poison me"

He laughs, "You know I couldn't hurt you, y/n"

There goes that expression again, and he hates to realize he's playing along.

"I know, Vander" you take a full sip, as if showing him just how much you'd trust him. Like he could have a gun put to your head and you'd understand; like he could have a hand around your neck and you'd breath the last huffs of oxygen in his name.

Silence settles in, until you decide to break it by saying:

"You know, if you wanted to get me drunk" the drink dissapears in a rough gulp, the liquid smooth while it burns and slides down your throat, "you could've just asked"

"And for what would I want to do that?" he bites right into the bait.

The stool creaks as you get up, and he finds your face closer than the smoke and ashes of when he takes a drag.

"Because I know you too want this" you whisper, dangerously low.

His breath hitches, heart beating fast. He could break you in two, if he wanted to, but now trembles like a leaf in the wind with just your perfume and eyes piercing through his.

"Want what?" he dares to ask, duties forgotten long ago.

You click your tongue, maybe in dissapointment.

You just don't know when to quit.

"The evening's slow" now sweet, tempting. "About to end"

He feels drunk, even if he hasn't had a drop. You're lulling him right into your trap. It doesn't matter if he has stopped you before: ignoring the bat of your eyelashes, the lingering touches and the sweet words that seemed reserved for him only.

"What would you do?" he gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. To me, too coward to voice out loud; to stop this nonsense.

You walk over to him, standing still, almost defiant, even if he doubles your size; the thought only makes heat pool in your stomach. The ember of the moonlight shines over your corageous eyes, and Vander thinks he really needs to shorten your quality time with Vi. A hand traces over his defined pecs: hands he's seen before hold a gun, now touching him with a softness that doesn't belong in the undercity.

"Don't you think knowing it's late makes it easier know what I have in mind?" you laugh, and it tickles parts in his body he isn't ready to say yet. "Just give in"

You should've know when to quit.

His eyes darken, and this isn't the Vander you know. If anything, you should be scared, but you rub your thighs together, spot already wet.

"If anyone's about to give in, it's you"

Before you can register, his lips smack together with yours as he takes the lead. His big hands cup your face, traveling down until they reach your hips, and the pressure of his size feels so much better than you imagined.

"Tell your man what would yo do tonight?" huskily whispered your way. His knee finds it's way between your thighs as he applies pressure to your already slick cunt, making you yelp. "Or cat got your tongue?"

You're at loss for words, for the very first time in a while. All that time spent provoking him, edging and pushing for a reaction, so sure of the hidden flame sparking behind the curtain of smoke of his pipe, to know surrender so easily, like your body is unable to react at all.

So instead, you entangle your fingers through his greying hair, a small whine escaping your lips, the sleeping fierce need of battle now translated in the fight for dominance, his mouth growing more demanding.

Vander pushes your body against the bar, making the wood creak. He applies more pressure with his knees, making you whimper again, his tongue reaching every spot inside your sweet mouth.

"God, you're so sweet" he mumbles.

"Then why did you stop yourself all this time?" you breath out, as tempting as the shadows that walk through the streets.

Hi smiles devishly, biting your lip. "Ain't nothing stopping me no more"

He uses your body as he pleases, handling it to his complete and utter advantage, thumbs now digging into your hipbones before he feels you grinding against his knee.

"Greedy little thing. Haven't I taught you manners, ey?" but the way he looks at you, like a starved man who's been denied a meal for years, encourages you to keep rolling your hips. Once you find a steady rhythm, he releases your hips and moves to grab your wrists, pinning you down in the free bar. You whine, the pain of the hard wood on your back digging on your skin.

"Vander" you gasp, but he shuts up the pain by forcing his lips right back. His handsgrab back ahold of your thighs so you keep up the rhythm. He can feel a spot over his clothes start to dampen, doing nothing but augmenting the hunger. God, he can even feel the smell of your arousal.

You moan, head leaning back.

"Feels good?" he asks, and you mumble a nonsensical myriad of words that sound like yes. He nips your neck, making you squirm under his touch.

"C'mon, baby. I ain't deaf but I didn't hear you" Vander taunts, biting still. Now he travels to your collarbone and then tits, removing your shirt to reveal no bra under. Of course, you little vixen had planned it all and he fell like a fool. Not that he's complaining, of course, giving a lick to the soft rosy skin around your nipples.

"M-more, please!" you whimper out loud, mind numb.

"You wanted it so bad, yet can't even speak" he murmurs, sucking a spot dangerously near to your nipple. Your movements against his knee come to a halt, but he makes sure to keep you and your puffy core grinding against his thigh. "Talk"

He should know that you wouldn't give up that easily, prideful as he was, no matter if this is what you've always wanted.

"I said talk" your legs tremble around his when he forces you down harder. "I wanna hear you ask for what you say you wanted so bad, don't think I didn't notice all your traps, taunts and plays, little vixen"

The nickname makes you moan, inciting you to pour the words out.

"Ruin me, Vander" and he barely has time to react, knowing that no man has ever touched you before, your untainted territories dripping for him. "Please- take me and make me yours"

"You know I've never denied you anything" he breaths against your neck, "how could I ever say no to you if you ask so nicely, huh? I see you remembered those manners"

It's now his hand what touches between your thighs, leg long gone. His fingers rub firm circles around your clit through the cloth, making you shiver.

"Let's start small, yeah?" he encourages, "I know you're my brave girl, but I would like you to come on my fingers first"

Vander strips you down, eyes going dark when he sees your needy cunt on display. He shuffles himself down between your legs, and the pressure is new and much, you feel you could come with just the touch of his hand.

"You're so pretty. Can't believe you're giving all of this to an old man like me" he kneels down as you sit legs opened up on the bar, dragging his tongue through your wet folds.

"Sit still, yeah? Let me take care of you" he licks again, gently sucking on it as well. He can't help but wonder why he folded so easy, as if he hadn't put a stop or ignored all of your previous attempts at having him. Now he has you, under him, saying his name in a way he hadn't before, as he makes out with your puffy clit.

"Fuck" you gasp, head falling against the wood. Your hands and toes curl, waves of sensations never felt before washing over you, as Vander continues giving your pussy ministrations.

The energy is electric, your arousal flowing like a river, making wet slurping sounds come out of his lips, feeling up the empty bar, your moans as back track filling his ears. Vander's beard is covered in your juices, making all of this the more obscene.

"I see you liking it" he jokes, licking some of it off his mouth. He adjusts your legs over his broad shoulders, barely noticing the added weight. Your thighs are so close, he can feel them tremble as he slips a finger inside of you, pumping in and out.

"V-Vander" you whine in ecstasy. He loves the little sounds coming out of your mouth; obscene symphony. He adds another finger, now curling them upwards, making your walls drip more while clenching around them, loving the sensation. Your nails dig so deep, you can feel blisters inside of them, holding yourself for as what would be your first orgasm.

"I-I think I'm going to-" he can sense it, years of experience ahead from you. So now he gives his fingers a break, kneeling to let his tongue enter the game again. It swirls around the tight walls, making you squirm.

"Fingers. Now" you demand, and he's carrying your legs again on his shoulders, thrusting them inside of you aggresively. You feel your folds clench around them, your very first orgasm washing over you.

"You behaved well" he praises while kissing your puffy cunt, skin glistening and still sensible. "That's my brave girl"

He uses the cloth he's cleaned the glasses with to wipe off himself. You gasp, laughing even if your eyelids feel heavy.

"What? Think I'm gonna be dirty when I fuck the shit out of you?"

You didn't think his mouth could be so filthy, used to his fatherly side, but oh, you're not complaining. He removes his belt, pulling his pants down. Of course he's huge down there, you think, as the tent behind his underwear marks a reasonably large silhoutte.

"Now, will you be brave one last time? I don't want to scare you, or hurt you?" his boxer falls to his knees, dick hard. You gulp, but can't back off now. He, however, can sense your doubt. "Just say it, and we'll stop"

"No" even you are surprised by the conviction in your voice. "I want you, Vander. Always will"

You open up your legs, closer to the edge of the furniture. He walks over until his dick brushes your cunt, pulling up your legs once again, a position you've discovered as of today, might be your favorite.

"See, there is a reason I didn't clean you up. Don't think I don't know my manners as well"

He lubes with your still wet pussy, wasting no time to rub his dick against your glistening folds.

"We're alone, but don't want to wake up the kids, ey" you nod. "So, you'll behave?" you nod again. "Good girl"

"Now, if it hurts, tell me and I'll stop"

Vander aligns himself up with your entrance, and with one deep motion, buries himself all the way to the hilt. It's almost as if he's forgotten his gentle side.

"Mphm-" you're about to scream, but his big hands cover your mouth.

"Bad girl" he tuts, "you promised"

Your back hurts, arching itself from the wood as you take all of his girth, walls squeezing him perfectly.

"Don't worry, the pain doesn't last long" he assures you, hips going back and forth softly. He picks up the pace, slowly but determined, seeing you have adjusted to his size already. "There. Take it, my girl"

He buries himself inside of you, body numb at his size and strident movements of his hips against you.

"Y-you're so b-big" you speak up for the first time in minutes, letting out another moan. "I can even feel you-"

You don't finish the sentence but the image is there, right infront of him. That only encourages him to fuck you harder, the thrusts now more brutal and violent.

"Tell me, where you feeling me?" you can't speak, so you point to your stomach. "Yeah? Filling you up so good you can't even speak?" then pounds you even harder. The pain is intense, but so is the pleasure, making you mumble more incoherences while even tears begin to well up in your eyes.

There is pressure on your lower belly, and it's not his bulge. No, you recognize it, despite having only felt it once: your orgasm is building up again. The furniture squeaks, looking like it will break under both of your weights combined, his thrusts now sloppier and messier. He was also close, grunting when your walls begin clenching around his dick.

"Fuck, Vander" you whimper out. "I think I love you"

Before he can register the weight of your words, thick ropes of cum fill up your pussy, his whole body shaking and finally succumbing to his age. He empties himself inside of you, your greedy cunt taking every drop. It's a fleeting second, but he remember Felicia, and the news she dropped that day. He thinks of a child with your eyes and his hair, the cruel world that awaits them but still can't let you waste any of his seed.

The room goes quiet as both of you try to even your breaths. After a while, your confession settles in.

"I don't think I love you" he gets down, kissing your nose gently. "I know I do. Can't deny that anymore"

The adoration on his eyes is so pure, you feel like crying again. The feelings you kept to yourself and left like crumbs for him to pick up through out this past days have finally transformed into something real. So real, your pussy still feels warm, just as your heart.

He easily carries your body on his strong arms, up to his room. You had never slept there before, and despite the numbness, you keep your eyes open, excited as a child.

"Good" you laugh, "because I was running out of ideas"

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Monster x Reader [Werewolf]

In Romanian mythology, Pricolici is an evil spirit believed to be born after the death of wicked humans, able to transform into certain animals such as ferocious dogs and wolves. The etymology is unknown, although it's suspected to be of Dacian origin, thus going as far back in time as the 1st century BC. An ancient creature has set its predatory eyes on you.

Winner of the Folklore Monster Poll celebrating Romanian history!

TW: obsessive behavior, violence, death

[Horror Masterlist] [More Headcanons]

He can tell it's a dream. Nonetheless, it always feels unbearably real. He can smell the incense, hear the hurried trample of feet underneath him. He wants to open his mouth and demand they stop. No words ever come out, the throat is dry and flattened by heavy despair. It's a dream, after all. The priests march on, and the spears are lifted. For a moment, he's blinded by their powerful, sharp glisten. As he gazes at the sacred circle, it occurs to him just how uncomfortable the shackles are. He becomes somewhat distracted by this irritating friction, so much he doesn't register the instructions given by the mysterious men. 

Centuries later, he would stumble upon an old history book by Herodotus that detailed his misfortune:

"The Getae are the bravest of the Thracians and the most just. They believe they are immortal, forever living, in the following sense: they think they do not die and that the one who dies joins Zalmoxis, a divine being. Every four years, they send a messenger to Zalmoxis, who is chosen by chance. They ask him to tell Zalmoxis what they want on that occasion. The mission is performed in the following way: men standing there for that purpose hold three spears; other people take the one who is sent to Zalmoxis by his hands and feet and fling him in the air on the spears. If he dies pierced, they think that the divinity is going to help them; if he does not die, it is he who is accused and they declare that he is a bad person. And, after he has been charged, they send another one. The messenger is told the requests while he is still alive."

The foreign hands tighten around his limbs and he takes a deep breath in, ready for the plunge. Truth be told, he's not too anxious. The first time was terrifying, but one becomes accustomed to death if it repeats itself, night after night as the years pass and millennia settle over it, like a thick blanket of ash and bone and dust. He doesn't remember the pain anymore, only the bitterness. The wrath. He had no business playing God's messenger. He hadn't wished to be choking on his own blood, rippling violently at the corners of his mouth as his eyes dart over the excited masses. There are claps and cheers, and hope, and peace. Just not for him. 

No matter, if they long so dearly after eternity, he'll become their very proof. A tangible undead, a creature of eternity. Let them gaze at their ardent desire as it claws their bowels out for the birds to feed on. Let them sing praise before their God as their soft throats detangle under his fangs. Before he knows it, the corpses lay mangled at his feet and he notices his horrid reflection swaying in the puddles of fresh blood. 

He has become a beast. 

And just like that, the nightmare ends. It always ends here. He pats the sweat off his forehead with the monotonous vigor of habit. It's already noon and the narrow street flocks with curious tourists and natives on their stroll. Every now and then he will venture into the city, just to get a glimpse of the world. He twists the knob and opens a window, enjoying the breeze that cools his skin. His tired eyes wander around with no purpose. 

That's when he sees you. Your wide, carefree smile as you converse with your friend. You're drawing circles along the edge of your coffee cup, propped over the table, entranced by your discussion. Your gentle laugh rings unexpectedly loud against his ears. He finds himself frozen in place, unable to contract a single muscle. 

"Oh, this trail is supposed to have some really nice sights." Your friend is shuffling through unfolded maps, spread out onto the small café table. "We should leave pretty early though, otherwise it'll get dark before the return."

You groan at the idea. Your friend responds with a chuckle. 

"Remember, our tour guide joked about werewolves roaming the outskirts. Do you want to be eaten?" She inquires with a cheeky grin. 

"You know I have a thing for monsters." You answer with a wink. 

The jokes carry on until the bill arrives, and you eventually stand up and merrily make your way down the street. For a brief moment you feel a cold shiver running down your spine, so you peek back inquisitively. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Ah. By the time his focus returns, the sun is setting, reflecting its crimson rays over the old cobblestone. You've been gone for a while, so he must've been staring into the nothingness for good hours. He clears his throat, mildly embarrassed by his absent-mindedness. He isn't hungry, so he has trouble explaining his sudden captivation with a random human.

Even more bizarre is the consequence of the accidental encounter. The following nights are devoid of the usual torment. Has he ever had a peaceful slumber before? He can't recall. And yet here he is, vacantly eyeing the ceiling without the labored breath or cold shivers, faintly reminiscing about your amused expression. He frowns slightly at the realization that his recollection seems to contain less details compared to yesterday. Your face is smudged by the intense light of the noon, titled at an angle that allows no shadows to discern the features. What will he do when it's entirely gone? A faceless memory, anchored in the depths of his heart as a reminder of what could've been. Is there some universal law that dictates only misery remains unforgotten, or is he just exceptionally unlucky? Infuriating. 

The overwhelming sensation creeps upon him again. A primordial vengefulness that hasn't yet released him from its cold, bony fingers. For once, can't he be granted fairness? His jaw clenches and he marches out of the room. 

Tonight shall be a feast.

The lights are still on in the little tavern inn, and through the small windows he can make out the lively movement of the people inside. He glances at the waning moon one final time. The world may change, and the years may pass, but one thing has never left him throughout the centuries. Always bearing the same pallid, melancholic countenance, his taciturn companion rises, indifferent to the Universe. 

His back arches outwards, the bones tear and twist, the joints dislocate and the skin is giving way to coarse, thick fur. His eyes now carry an amber glow as they rest on the modest building. Without further hesitation, he pounces on the door and it folds like cardboard under his inhuman strength. The room goes quiet and all heads turn to him. He recognizes that look. A fleeting second of fear and curiosity, before true panic settles in. But they rarely have the time to scream. Just as the vocal chords contract and vibrate, their chests are trashed and limbs are tattered. Splattered visceral remains and blood coat the ground under his feral attack.

You squeeze your eyes closed and force your hands over your mouth to ensure your stillness to the massacre. You were just returning from the bathroom when you heard the wails and the wet sounds of mutilated flesh. You'd ducked behind the wall and hid under an end table. What the hell is that creature? You initially thought a wild wolf had somehow made its way into the tavern, but no animal can be this large. There is a backdoor, but on the other side of this hall. You'd have to sprint across the archway that leads into the main room. Then again, if it's this busy ripping the others apart...

No need to ponder your options much. Silence falls behind you, which means the creature must have finished its horrid sport early. His snout picks up a particular scent and he tenses up, expectantly. Could it be? 

The wooden parquet tiles creak under the weight of foreign footsteps; a human approaching you. You look up from under the table. Has someone dealt with the beast? Although you immediately regret revealing yourself. You freeze in your spot, hands propped on the ground, like prey awaiting execution. 

The man is unnaturally tall, having to crouch under the ceiling, with wild black hair and rough features. His chiseled face is painted red, and his clothing is torn apart and soaked in blood. His large hands end in sharp claws, and amid his ruffled locks you can distinguish animal ears. 

There you are.

Well, quite the irony to meet you here of all times and places. From this distance, you look even prettier. He bends over slightly to examine the details that have faded since the first encounter. A surreal experience, really. Seeing you kneel right in front of him and not as a figment of his imagination. He extends his fingers over your face and presses his nails in, leaving a vague trail of swollen, red skin. What a frail being you are.

"Your friend is alive, by the way." His deep, dissonant voice pierces the silence.

"O-oh." You gasp. You were so anxious you barely understood the meaning of his words.

"You may check on her if you so desire, however..." 

He considers it. Normally, even after allowing his anger to seep into cadavers and ruins, all he's left with is disgust and emptiness. Yet your presence seems to fill him with unfamiliar comfort. If one is drowning, is it truly selfish to hold onto the first thing that keeps them afloat? The only people who'd condemn such beggar are the ones that have never been underwater. They don't know what it's like to have your lungs tighten and collapse under the heavy pressure, waving your arms towards a surface that's never reached. 

"...You'll be coming with me afterwards."

You can only stare.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you." He attempts to simulate a smile. "I suppose I'm not too convincing like this", he jokes as he gestures towards his body, "But you have my word I'll never harm you."

"Why, though?" You manage to stutter, frowning in confusion. 

He's taken aback by your inquiry. Perhaps his statement is indeed more threatening than anything else. On the other hand, he hasn't conversed with humans in...longer than he can remember. What might pose as convincing in this case? Drawing out a rose and confessing his undying love among the bodies he murdered feels rather ridiculous. Suddenly, a passage he's once read comes to mind. At the time, it depressed him greatly. Now it feels like the only fitting reasoning.

"Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?"

"Isn't that from Stoker's Dracula? How is it-" 

You pause and search his eyes. Golden trenches of loneliness and gloom. Your heart is heavy and your mouth curls into a grimace the longer you stare into these pools swirling with agony. 

"I understand." Is all you can mutter as you stand up. 

Have you had a choice to begin with? Not even the frothing waves of a storming ocean can come between a dying man and his only raft. 

[whumpuary]

Welcome to Whumpuary 2024!

Whumpuary is a whump themed mixed-media creation event/challenge taking place in January.

This year the prompts came together through a community submission form and then a poll, where I picked the 53 most voted prompts! There are 15 numbers with 3 prompts each, plus 8 alt prompts. The dates are just meant to be a general guideline for those who want/need some structure in a challenge (e.g post every other day), but you don't actually have to create/post on those dates. You can combine prompts any way you want or just pick one of each number, do every single one or even all of them combined into one big creation (or just use one single prompt. That's already an achievement!) If you don't like any prompts of a number you can also replace or combine them with an alt prompt. The main or alt prompts don't have to be done in order.

Go here for more information, rules and the tagging system Go here for FAQs

The inbox is open for any questions!

Text version of all the prompts is under the cut

Whumpuary 2024 Main Prompts 1. (Jan 01-02) Captivity / Snow / Secret Revealed 2. (Jan 03-04) "Get away from me" / Collapse / Choking 3. (Jan 05-06) Used as bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt" 4. (Jan 07-08) "Help me" / Lightheaded / Kneeling 5. (Jan 09-10) Can't move / "Stay. Please" / Kidnapped 6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries 7. (Jan 13-14) "I didn't know where else to go" / Bruises / Drugged 8. (Jan 15-16) Muffled Screams / Hostage / "You look awful" 9. (Jan 17-18) "Make it stop" / Restraints / Hair Grabbing 10. (Jan 19-20) Desperation / Gunpoint / Can't stay awake 11. (Jan 21-22) Blood / "Just get is over with" / Memories 12. (Jan 23-24) "You're awake" / Rescue / Unfair Fight 13. (Jan 25-26) Left to die / Barely Conscious / "I'm Fine" 14. (Jan 27-28) Flinching / Breakdown / Sleep Deprivation 15. (Jan 29-31) You're safe / Aftermath / Touch starved

Alt Prompts 1. Stabbed 2. "Let me see" 3. Recapture 4. Forced to watch 5. Headache 6. Gagged 7. "Do you trust me?" 8. Blood Loss

[steddieasitgoes]

Inspired by the tags I left on @phoenicae poll about our favorite way Eddie didn't die.

I know we all headcanon Steve being the one to carry Eddie out of the Upside Down when they make it back in time after defeating Vecna but consider:

Steve's own body is giving out on him. He's bleeding through the makeshift bandages Nancy fitted him with from all the running they've done getting back to Forest Hills. He's woozy and lightheaded and relying too much on Robin to keep him upright as they finally make it through the woods and spot Dustin and Eddie in the distance.

Dustin is crying, yelling about how Eddie still has a pulse and they can't leave him here, and Steve tries his best to suck up his own pain. Tells Dustin he'll get Eddie back through, but when he bends down to hoist Eddie up, his own knees give out and his vision blacks out.

There's more yelling and pulling, and before Steve knows it, he's being fully supported by Robin. Dustin hobbling behind them.

"We can't leave Eddie," he shouts, glancing over his shoulder as Robin guides him to Eddie's trailer door.

"Nancy's got him, come on!" she shouts, pulling him faster.

And then there's Nancy.

So-called priss Nancy Wheeler.

Nancy Wheeler, who lost Barb, her best friend, to the Upside Down three years ago.

Nancy Wheeler, who lost her classmate and friend Fred days ago because of the Upside Down.

Nancy Wheeler, who just spent several days keeping Eddie safe from a misguided witchhunt that is all the Upside Down's fault.

The same Nancy Wheeler who shot rounds and rounds of bullets through the monster controlling the Upside Down minutes ago.

Nancy Wheeler has been here before.

She's seen what the Upside Down does to a person.

Knows first-hand what it does to the people who get to escape while others don't.

Nancy Wheeler has lived with survivor's guilt for three fucking years.

And she's not going to let Dustin, her favorite of Mike's friends, have to learn what that survivor's guilt feels like.

She's not going to let another one of her friends die because of this place.

Not on her watch.

So, she drops to her knees and gets to work. Stars ripping her shirt to wrap around the worse of Eddie’s wounds, hoping it’ll keep some of the blood in. Eddie winces in pain and it’s the most beautiful sound Nancy’s ever heard because it means he’s still alive. 

“Come on, Eddie. Stay with me okay?” 

She’s left in just her bra when she finishes bandaging him up as best she can. His blood is already soaking through the cotton material and she can hear Robin shouting for her from inside the trailer. 

There’s no time to waste. 

She takes a deep breath, plants her feet and slowly hoists Eddie into her arms. His screams are defending but she tunes them out, running towards the trailer with all the energy she has left in her. 

“M’sorry, I thought you were a priss,” Eddie chokes out, blood oozing from his mouth. “You’re b-b-badass.” 

“You’re pretty badass yourself,” she says as she takes the stairs to the trailer two at a time. “Maybe when all this is done we can be badass together.” 

Eddie hums noncommittally as his eyes start to flutter and Nancy kicks herself into high gear. She manages to get him to clasp his hands around her neck, positions him so he’s on her back and starts climbing the rope. When they flip through, Nancy makes sure to turn their bodies so she absorbs the brunt of the fall, Eddie falling limply on her back with little protest. 

Nancy only has a moment to catch her breath before the door flies open and she’s following a dying Eddie into the back of an ambulance. Robin and Dustin piling into the ambulance for Steve. 

Days later when Hopper asks Nancy how the hell she carried Eddie through a gate in the ceiling, she shrugs. 

“I guess it’s like those moms who lift cars off their kids. I just did it.” 

“It’s because she’s badass,” Eddie supplies instead. “Badass Nancy Wheeler.” 

[maklodes]

I feel like I barely have the right to get into “Star Wars would be so good if it were good” posting given that I haven’t actually watched VII-IX, but I keep thinking about the myriad plots and subplots that could follow VI, after the fireworks stop, all without slamming the reset button.

Like, as of Episode VI’s end, Emperor Palpatine, Darth Vader, and Grand Moff Tarkin are all dead, but much of the rest of the Imperial bureaucracy and military are still intact. Maybe there’s a legal chain of succession that establishes who’s next, but probably it’s pretty weak, because tyrants generally don’t like saying “you know who would benefit greatly if I were to ‘accidentally’ drink poisoned blue milk and die? That guy!” So there’s a likelihood of power struggles, different factions emerging among moffs and admirals. How would the Alliance respond to two moffs waging a brutal war against each other, extorting civilians to death for supplies, bombarding civilian population centers that are not logistically accessible enough for their side to extort but that they think the other side will, etc? Can the Alliance afford to intervene to help the innocents suffering in this conflict, or is it best to just let their enemies weaken themselves and clean up afterwards?

Meanwhile, some moffs and governors see the writing on the wall, and are approaching the Alliance and saying “Yes, I was a high official in the Empire, but I was one of the good ones, working within the system to make it as humane and decent as possible. Now I am preparing to join the New Republic, and preparing to hold free elections on my planet(s) (supervised, of course, by the erstwhile-Imperial bureaucracy under my control – who else is around that could competently manage such an affair?) Yes, there are a few incidents during my reign that can be classified as atrocities, but I can assure you that if anyone else in the empire had been in charge, they would have been more numerous and severe (anyone harsher than me would’ve been worse, and anyone gentler would’ve been force-choked to death by Darth Vader and replaced), so let’s just leave those in the past and work together toward a better future.” Can the Alliance accept such a defector on those terms? Can the Alliance afford not to?

At the same time, former members of the senate – dissolved at the beginning of IV – are saying “Alright! With that tyrannical emperor gone, we are ready to get back into the action and help rebuild the Republic,” while more radical members of the Alliance are like “no, FUCK those old senators. Those were the guys who elected Palpatine chancellor. Then they kept giving him more and more emergency powers. Then they voted to make him emperor. Then they stuck around as a rubber stamp Imperial Senate for like fifteen years legitimizing the Empire, before the emperor finally dissolved the senate. A few of them may be okay, but they are all on probationary status in the politics of the New Republic at best, and many of them should be charged with corruption/oath violation/etc and barred from politics and maybe incarcerated/executed.”

Some people might even question the whole idea of One Galaxy Government going forward. Sure, there are advantages to having a singular Republic/Empire coordinating things, but there are risks. Maybe local control – with the risk of the occasional local dictator, or local border war – is safer than putting all eggs into one basket? Coordinating the resources of a galaxy has proven useful in destructive massive scale projects like planet-killer battle stations. Is there a more productive use case for that much broad scale coordination? 

As more systems democratize and lift censorship and restrictions on holonet, you get paranoia and rumors going around that this or that office-seeking politician is the Next Palpatine. When a planet’s leading candidate for senator faces rumors of being a Dark Sider, the runner-up currently polling at 48% clears her throat and says “The threat of the Dark Side is too serious to be turned into a political issue, and unfounded rumors and partisan smears do nothing to help us re-establish our still-fragile democratic norms. At the same time, any credible allegations of Dark Side influence merit a thorough and independent investigation. After all, recent experience has shown just how destructive the Dark Side can be: whole inhabited planets got destroyed! Once we establish a transparent, impartial process to examine these claims, we can move beyond all this baseless speculation about my opponent (and the baseless speculation that the first anonymous rumors were traced to a holonet account belonging to my campaign’s chief of staff).” You could have HUAC / McCarthy hearings type shit.

You could have some genuine (aspiring) Dark Side guys – no one who knows the true Sith teachings, but maybe some force sensitives who see the force as a Will To Power thing. (The Jedi haven’t been abducting children who show force potential for decades, and the Sith had no room beyond two, so I guess force sensitives have mostly sorta been figuring out what they could of this stuff themselves for a few decades? Most of them are probably pretty weaksauce compared to trained Sith/Jedi like Yoda or Palpatine, but maybe they can influence weak minds and shit) You could have any combination of actual Dark Side influence and rumors: have some people correctly accuse real Dark Side guys, have Dark Side guys spreading false rumors that their innocent opponents are on the Dark Side, have two different candidates both being Dark force sensitives, spreading rumors about each other (or one spreading rumors, being a down and dirty political fighter, and the other refusing to stoop to that and going for the Stately Above the Fray vibe, but secretly being comparably ruthless), or (perhaps most common) rumors of Dark Side influence being spread in politics when no one involved is actually even Force sensitive let alone in touch with the Dark Side.

You could go a little deeper: some people in the aftermath of the Empire might think  that the Force – both the Dark and Light sides – has held the galaxy kind of kind of technical and moral cul-de-sac, accounting for the ways in which the whole setting combines backwardness and advancement:

Why is it that in spite of having overcome the light barrier many millennia ago and being able to build small planet-sized battle stations, they seem to have made negligible progress against senescence and death generally? Because the Force provides a frame in which you either embrace the Dark Side, in which case triumph over mortality is a personal achievement to be hoarded and lorded over your inferiors, or you adhere to the Light Side, in which case you reject the “unnatural abilities” of Dark immortality. Progress against mortality at a collective, civilizational level doesn’t make sense from either of those perspectives.

Why is it that in spite of apparently being fully sentient in many cases, droids are still treated as chattel property without rights? Why is it that they still seem to have widespread animal agriculture? Maybe because the Force doesn’t notice forms of sentience that have no or negligible midichlorian counts or force sensitivity or whatever. Obi-Wan could probably walk past a droid refurbishing facility where droids are getting reset to factory settings, or a slaughterhouse, and not feel any “disturbance in the force, voices crying out in terror and suddenly being silenced” etc, and when the Light Side is treated in some respects as the moral arbiter of the setting, and when a big part of the Light Side is “trust your feelings,” and when the “force feelings” don’t really apply to beasts or droids, they don't get a lot of consideration.

Why is it that the only visions of authority are somewhere on a spectrum from “centralized, despotic autocracy” (the Empire) to “decentralized, semi-feudal oligarchy” (the Republic, with a Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth-style weak senatorial authority, proliferation of local nobles like counts and princesses, etc, and, perhaps to an even further extent along that spectrum, the Confederacy of Independent Systems)? Maybe because it reflects  how the Force tends to structure itself: the Dark Side tends to concentrate power in the hands of a couple of megalomaniacs. The Light Side tends to distribute it across a broader order of Force-wielding elites, but still very rare as a fraction of the  population.

You might say that these ideas don’t really get to the essence of the core appeal of Star Wars, which is more like stuff like starfighter battles and lightsaber duels and such, but I’m not saying these themes would necessarily be debated in great detail to the exclusion of action and stuff. They just could be the reason for the lightsaber duels and starfighter battles and such. Consider: in Episode I, the pretext for a lot of the action was a dispute over tariffs. Stated baldly, I think that’s drier than anything I mentioned.

[hilkaro]

I've played through the DLC for TPoF countless times. Eventually, after some time, I unlocked an achievement I had no idea existed - called Real Simp. I completely forgot about it, but when I wanted to play the game again next time, alongside the memelord mode, another one called Simp Mode appeared. I turned it on, and OH MY GOD, IT COMPLETELY CHANGES THE GAMEPLAY! I don't know about other characters, but with Fox, everything is better.

At the beginning, of course, there's the auction where you beg the announcer to take you every time you have the chance. Then you wake up in a bunker, and that's when the real rollercoaster begins. From my experience, I can immediately say that Chat doesn't matter at all, only Fox's points matter. I'll give you a brief walkthrough in case you haven't unlocked it yet.

Warning: spoilers ahead!

You wake up in the bunker, it's dark, you're tied up. You make noise and catch Fox's attention. Nothing changes here, but your thought process is… significantly different. Someone is in front of me. I focus my gaze and see my favorite beastkin. He looks great, only he wears a mask covering his handsome facial features. Too bad, a great pity.

Fox asks how you feel and if you remember anything. You get several options, including a new one to click on: I meant your bedroom. This leads to a dialogue: You: (sigh), I don't want to be rude, I really appreciate that you fulfilled my request and took me, but I meant your bedroom more than this musty basement. He is silent for a moment, looking at you, then bursts into laughter.

It's the standard text about not worrying because you made the choice to be his co- star. You look around, see cameras, he says no one has ever asked to go with him before. Then you notice the lingerie he chose for you, praise it, and he's happy, standard. For a while, nothing changes; you choose the option to Stay quiet, then Put it back. Fox turns to the cameras and talks to Chat.

This wasn't what I expected from our first night. I'm a little disappointed, you think bitterly.

Let's move on to the foot and there's a slight difference here. Fox: She's gotten nice and wet… What do you think Chat? You (smiling weakly): I'm nice and wet, not only there But Fox rudely interrupts you by sticking his finger into your wound.

Still nothing changes. When you get a choice, you click on Beg him to stop. He cuts you with a knife until you bleed, you cry, standard. At WoundFucker's request, Fox starts choking you, but before you choose the Please, I don't want to die option. He chokes you with a cable until you pass out, then he smashes your face on the concrete, great.

The next game is a gun blowjob and here you have to click Obey confidently, because this time Fox forgot to do the poll. So you do your thing, looking deep into his eyes, he touches himself , nice time. Everyone is impressed by your skills, so you survive, but it's not over yet, because the icing on the cake awaits you. AND THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. Once Fox holds your poor eyelids, a new narrative emerges. I know well what will happen next…. And you can select the Open Mouth option, but it only lasts for a few seconds, so you have to be quick. Once you manage to click it, this appears: I open my mouth and stick out my tongue. He must be surprised by my reaction, because the grip of his claws on my head weakens and I manage to squeeze my eyes shut at the last moment, just before his cum lands all over my face and hair. But not in DAMN EYE! Fox is a bit surprised, ends the stream and you pass out from blood loss.

You wake up in a cell. He speaks to you with ordinary words. You look around and express the hope that now that you've performed so well, Fox will finally take you to his home. He just laughs and states that you now work for him. He's about to leave when you stop him and choose the option: Please stay, I don't want to be alone. Fox tilts his head, with a half-smile, remains silent for a moment, and exits without a word.

Then, you sit in the cell and contemplate. All narratives about the eye are, of course, omitted. You worry that perhaps you didn't try hard enough, considering Ren didn't want to take you home. Since you care so much about him, you decide to give it your all the next time you see each other.

Finally, they come to you. You dress up in a sexy mesh outfit and decide firmly that you'll survive this stream too. When given the option, you choose: Please go easy on me, and Fox likes it. He's about to start when someone asks: What happened to her? And Fox tells and shows everything. Fortunately, your eye is intact.

You move on to the soldering game, and when he asks you, you confidently reply that it's a soldering gun. You're not stupid, duh. Fox burns a heart on your back, and when he shows it on the camera, you comment aloud: You: Wow, it looks great, much better than a tattoo. Fox: I'm glad I fit into your tastes, darling.

Then you let him set up your arm without any protests, standard.

And the sex scene. Not much changes here except when Ren wants to put a tentacle dildo in your mouth, you have a time-limited chance to click: Open your mouth. Probably just to score points with Fox. Of course, while you're at it, you're pushing against him with all your might, in fact, you've been dreaming about him fucking you. It's a bit shame to be in front of the camera and with that collar with needles, but you don't complain, you take what they give you.

After everything, perhaps the biggest change. Because there's no longer an eye operation. Instead, there's a game with a nail gun for questions and answers. The first question is, of course, about Fox's name, and here, a window appears WHERE YOU CAN TYPE YOUR OWN ANSWER! There's no other option; you type REN HANA, all in capital letters, because you're so excited to finally let it out at this moment. He looks at you carefully, averts his gaze, and… shoots!! Shocking. Here, I think there may be several reasons for doing so. Firstly, theoretically,you don't have the right to know his name as MC, and maybe it unsettled him, put him on high alert or something. Or it could be an option that it was a warning shot. Ren didn't want to reveal his identity to Chat. Generally, the matter is a bit strange because if you answer all the questions correctly, he shoots a nail into the middle of our forehead, killing you. Okay. Some sample questions: What is today's date?, Whose father is my most loyal patron? And the question about the last letter of the alphabet, but it's time-limited. If you answer this incorrectly, Fox mocks you. After this wonderful game, you are forced to remove the nail from your body, which is quite painful but concludes the second show. You lose consciousness.

You have various dreams, when a touch wakes you up. Fox strokes your head. The beginning of the conversation is the same, there are no texts about the eye prosthesis because you have that eye. You ask: Why are you helping me? He explains that Chat loves you, but it is picky, and you may not survive for long. You relax and gaze at him, and he points out that it's not very polite. You ask, Who did this to you? He responds in the usual way. But your reaction is different. You: Are you sure? Fox: About what? You: That if it weren't for that person, you would be in exactly the same place doing exactly the same thing as now? Fox measures you with a probing look from half-closed lids and says it's time for him. Then you have the option to click: Hug him. You do it, and he looks at you surprised. You ask him not to leave yet because you don't want to be alone. He also lightly hugs you and strokes your head. After some time, you drift away.

And the ending. THE BEST.

You wake up in a bright room. Apparently, someone's bedroom. You feel an electric collar around your neck. Fox appears, wrapped only in a towel, wet hair, bangs falling on his forehead. He pins you to the wall, his eyes glowing, and says: I decided to keep you for myself. You're mine.

[sengardet]

Poll Reward: Assassin Encounter (part 1)

Continued from:

Terra freed a hand from the woman’s neck to send fingernails trailing down her captive body. She traced the curves of her breasts, over her jumpy heart, and down the dip of her stomach, before sliding between her thighs. The woman let out a soft moan as Terra's fingers mingled within her slick arousal.

She couldn’t help but sit there reveling in the power she held over this deadly assassin turned pathetic whimpering creature that begged to be dominated. Terra was growing attached and that feeling made her revolt.

Terra squeezed tighter around that delicate throat, feeling the captive's pulse race beneath her dark fingers before shunting it off completely. Yet only then did this woman’s full depravity reveal itself. The woman’s thighs clamped around Terra's hand in a desperate, needy embrace. inner walls fluttered around her digits as arousal overflowed into orgasm.

Terra let out a defeated sigh, softening her grip to let her enjoy herself. Watching this fragile creature come undone was intoxicating, but Terra knew such things were short lived in this line of work.

Terra loomed over the tied-up woman, her heart racing with a mixture of adrenaline and an unfamiliar emotion she couldn't quite place. She supposed it was best to put a bullet through the woman’s heart before the euphoria settled down. Maybe then she would see this mysterious creature’s face.

"Thank you, my love," the bound woman said softly beneath the pillow, surprising Terra with sudden affection.

Terra laughed. "Is that all it takes, the first chick to choke you and we’re hitched?"

The woman's voice grew somber. "I bit the cyanide pill. You don't have to waste a bullet, but you can if you like the feeling. Otherwise… I'd like you to hold me. My name is Sophie."

Terra's heart skipped a beat, her mind reeling at the revelation. Frustration and panic surged through her as she tried to make sense of why she felt betrayed.

"Dumbass," Terra snapped "You think I wouldn't have a cyanide poison kit after all I've been through?"

She quickly got up and rushed to retrieve the kit.

"Wait, what? You were going to kill me anyway, weren't you?" Sophie asked, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion.

"You don't get to decide when or how you die, I do!” Terra yelled through the house.

Terra burst into the bedroom, and there… Sophie lay motionless on the bed, not a shiver of a response. Terra rushed over and dragged the pale woman's limp body onto the floor. Her first sight of the woman's face. Sophie's head lolled to the side, revealing blue vacant eyes staring into nothing.

Terra hung the IV bag on the bedpost. Sophie’s pallid skin bared the delicate blue veins going down her arm, Terra picked one and plunged the needle in.

Once ready, she straddled Sophie's limp body and placed her hands on the woman's pale chest. She pushed hard and fast, commanding Sophie’s heart with unrelenting force. Sophie’s limp body jerked with each compression, her arms twitching and rubbery at her sides. held together at the wrists behind her.

Terra could feel Sophie's ribs bending and flexing beneath her touch as she pumped relentlessly. The sensation was oddly exhilarating, as if entrapping the woman yet again, pulling her back from her pitiful attempt at escape. Terra's own pulse raced as she worked to pull her back and punish her.

"You don't get to decide when it ends. Not after I gave you that little sendoff, bitch." Terra muttered in frustration.

Terra's mind flashed to their earlier encounter; Sophie's arousal still wet on her fingers. The memory sent a fresh surge of adrenaline through her veins. Her compressions intensified, driven by a primal need to maintain control.

Looking up, Terra saw that the bag was half-empty. Now was a good time to see if this pretty little thing could use oxygen.

Leaning down, Terra sealed her lips over Sophie's slack mouth and exhaled forcefully. Sophie's chest filled like a balloon and fell when Terra let go. Terra pulled back, resuming the furious rhythm of her compressions. Seconds stretched into minutes as she labored over Sophie's inert form, aware of every nuance and contour of the body beneath her...waiting for any flicker of life to reward her efforts. She would not be denied.

The blonde woman's eyes squinted shut, a slight frown crossing her pale lips.

"There we go," Terra said.

Sophie let out a faint moan in response. Relief surged through Terra. The woman was still responsive, if only barely. Terra tapped Sophie's cool cheeks, then quickly dismounted Sophie's limp form and rushed to grab the stethoscope from atop her dresser.

Placing the ends in her ears, Terra pressed the bell to Sophie's bare chest. She held her breath and listened. There it was - the soft, steady thump of Sophie's heartbeat, growing stronger with each passing second.

As Sophie began taking slow, shallow breaths, Terra allowed herself a triumphant grin. She had done it - thwarted the stubborn assassin's desperate escape into death's waiting arms. Terra savored the thought as she gazed down at Sophie's vulnerable form, color slowly returning to her porcelain skin.

"Please..." Sophie didn't know what she was begging for anymore.

Terra's full lips curved in a wicked smile. In one fluid motion, she slid her body up to straddle Sophie's heaving chest. Sophie gasped as Terra's weight pressed down, constricting her lungs.

"Shhh, it’s time for you to sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow." Terra said, covering Sophie's mouth and nose with a slender dark hand, sealing off her airways. She ground her hips slowly, sensually, feeling Sophie's rib cage flex and strain beneath her as she struggled for breath, her heart slamming in Terra’s ears as it strained beneath her.

Sophie's blue eyes widened in panic, her pale skin flushing pink as she thrashed weakly. Her oxygen-starved lungs burned, screaming for air that would not come. Terra held her fast, dark thighs clenching tight around her ribcage, one hand still clamped over her face. She rocked her hips in a steady rhythm, pressing Sophie's chest down with each undulation, forcing more precious air from her lungs.

She could feel Sophie's squished and starved heart pounding frantically against her most intimate places, the terrified muscle's vigorous thudding reverberating through her core before winding down in defeat.

The light faded from those defiant blue eyes, and Terra removed her hand allowing a hard intake of breath. She got up, and slapped the woman’s chest gently. A slow and steady little heartbeat filled her ears, one that assured her that her toy was still working...

[lactodebillus-bulgaricus]

guys so there was this poll titled "ur blorbo gets a death note, what do they do with it"

so I thought about bulgaria getting a notebook that kills people (basically like a death note hetalia au but the only thing from the death note anime in this au is the death note itself)

so

tbh I wonder what bulgaria would do with a death note

maybe initially, he wouldn't want to use it

but then, he'd realize that he can off people who harm others for the greater good such as corrupt politicians, oligarchs, mafia bosses, drug kingpins

at first, he will be reluctant to the idea of killing them (like any normal person would be disgusted/against the idea of killing someone) but at the same time, he will be feeling immense guilt at being able to stop these people from robbing his country and making life bad for everyone in it and not stopping them with the death note

eventually, he'd kill the first one and he'd feel pretty horrible about it

like he has probably killed people before but it was in wars, during bayonet charges, etc, there, you think in the moment, you fight to protect yourself and your comrades

this here is different, this is a premeditated, calculated action, yes, it's to protect his people and for their wellbeing, for his wellbeing and survival as a nation, that's what he's telling himself

like yeah he's seen people getting executed for treason in the past, but he didn't carry out the killings

he'd end killing more oligarchs/drug kings/mafia bosses/corrupt politicians and becoming number with each kill. maybe he'd be happy that he's not feeling that horrible anymore? that he's becoming numb/desensitized?

also his friends, the balkan countries, will ask him to lend them the notebook for similar purposes when he opens up about it :D I mean they will notice the difference, his cheerful nature will be gone, he will be very sulken, he will eventually admit what he's been doing

but more and more of those people (corrupt politicians, oligarchs, mafiosi) will pop out and fill the power vacuums that bulgaria has caused bc 1. the system is flawed, it allows for such people to exist, arise, gain power, and 2. there are players behind the scenes (mafia, oligarchs, drug lords) whose names bulgaria can't know so he can't kill them

eventually he'll go full madman mode and track down people who make the system flawed such as local thugs, gangsters, corrupt cops, corrupt judges, corrupt magistrates, corrupt prosecutors, drug dealers, pimps

something like a reflection of his cheerful nature will return but it will be like a sick version of it

like imagine him making someone die by choking on yogurt and laughing about it

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Whumptober 2024

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

A/N: work for prompt No. 1 is out, guys! Since most of y'all voted for tcw/tbb in the first hour that the poll was out, that's what I whipped up! Also, this has not been edited at all and has SPOILERS FOR S3 EP 11 of The Bad Batch. Read at your own discretion.

Okay, those are all my disclaimers. I'll be posting this, and anything else I write for Whumptober on my AO3 and FFN accounts, so you can check them out there if that's more your style. They're linked in my bio!

tw: panic attack

You failed.  She’s gone.  It’s all your fault.

Those were the three things that kept spinning rapidly through Crosshair’s mind like some sick mantra. 

You failed.  She’s gone and it’s all your fault.  Your fault.

Tag the shuttle.  That was all he had to do.  The search parties were after them, and she had known as well as he did that they would tear the island apart until they found what they were looking for.  So, they would give them what they were looking for.  That was the plan.  It was the easiest route, by a tactical standpoint.  By far, the most logical.  Fewer casualties, for the greater good.

That thinking was exactly what had gotten Tech killed.

Crosshair’s grip tightened on his rifle, until he realized one thing. 

His hands were steady.

Somehow, of all the things that had occurred in the last hour, from the destruction of their ship to the sight of the imperial shuttle disappearing into the cosmos, that was his breaking point.  The final crack in the glass before it shattered.  The straw that broke the bantha’s back.

His hands were steady.

Crosshair’s rifle dropped to the ground.  He didn’t register the harsh clatter as it collided with the cobbled path.  The safe space that had been his helmet for as far back as he could remember felt hot, suffocating suddenly.  Even as he ripped it off and it struck the ground several steps away, he couldn’t seem to escape the sensation of dread that was rapidly taking hold of his body, the crushing, squeezing pain that gripped his whole chest.

You failed.  Omega is gone, and it’s your fault.  You weren’t there when it mattered most.  Just like Mayday, just like Cody.

Just like Tech.

And just like that, they were on Kamino.  He knew they were, because of the familiar curve of the circular room, visible to him even in the pitch darkness.  It always was, no matter how dark his brothers kept it for him and Hunter.

He could hear their steady breathing now.  Wrecker’s intermittent snores, Hunter’s steady presence, and Tech—

He was gasping, choking on air.  He couldn’t breathe— he couldn’t kriffing breathe—

The pain was excruciating.  It set every nerve in his body aflame; the restraints on his wrists and ankles felt like they seared his skin with the barest touch.  And yet, to speak would be ever more unbearable.  To break now would be to admit the pointlessness of his existence.  If his secrets died with him, so be it.  He had betrayed his brothers before, he refused to betray them again.

Let them hurt him all they wanted.  He would die before he yielded to the Empire again.

—and he was on the ground.  The stones were icy cold, but his skin was coated in a sheen of sweat—

You failed.  He’s gone.  You weren’t fast enough, and now he’s gone, a life wasted like a pawn in the game you’ve been playing along with like a good soldier.  Whatever happens next, it doesn’t matter.  Nothing matters except revenge, as cold and heartless as the predators that will devour your worthless carcass when you die

A shadowy form slid across the ground within his line of sight.  He would be next—

“Crosshair—?”

They had him now, but something had changed.  When they had stopped asking questions, he didn’t even know.  All that he knew was that there was something different in way they looked at him, with those cold, calculating eyes.  He wished they would go back to asking him their questions. 

At least then he would know there was something – someone – still out there to look for—

“Crosshair!”

A hand gripped his shoulder, sent shooting pain through his nerves everywhere it touched.

“No—” he croaked; the single word stuck like shards of glass in his throat.

“Where is Omega?”

She’s gone.  I failed.

“Crosshair, where is she?”

His pulse hammered in his ears, a frantic pounding, as though it were a crazed animal trying to break out of a cage.  He felt the hand release him, curled in one himself.  His body was shaking—shaking and it wouldn’t stop, the crushing, squeezing, wrenching— it wouldn’t stop.

He felt a gentle pressure on his clammy forehead.

At first, it amounted to nothing next to the thoughts and sensations that ran rampant in his mind, the violent trembling that wracked his frame.  Until a voice seemed to call to him from far away, like a whisper carried on a strong wind.  Almost impossible to make out, so quiet you question whether you heard anything at all.

“Breathe, vod…”

That single word caused a flicker of recognition in the very back recesses of Crosshair’s mind.  Something he hadn’t encountered in a very, very long time.

They were trapped underground.  They cave system Republic intelligence had informed them about did exist, and it had gotten them into and out of the Separatist outpost quickly and quietly.  But what they hadn’t considered was how very weak it was, and that the blast from their detonation charges wouldn’t just destroy the outpost, but their means of escape, as well.  “Intelligence,” indeed.

Hunter was hurt.  Badly.

Wrecker and Tech both seemed a little shell-shocked.  It was the first time their sergeant, their ori’vod, had been incapacitated so completely during a mission.  Wrecker got quiet.  Disturbingly quiet.  Tech had fallen back on his old friend, logic, to calculate himself a web of positive probabilities and outcomes.  He was also utterly silent.  And Crosshair?  Ironically, he had nothing to say, not even some dry comment about the uselessness of the reg’s so called “intel.”

The only sound that hung in the stuffy, oxygen-scarce air was Hunter’s labored breathing as the life slowly seeped from his unconscious form.

That is, until he gasped awake, a ragged, panicked sound that caused all three of them to jump.

“Hunter!” Wrecker exclaimed, and Crosshair shot him a warning glare.

“Wreck—?”

Unsuccessfully, Hunter struggled to sit up, arms trembling from the mere effort.  Crosshair placed a restraining hand on Hunter’s chest as Tech hurried over to run another scan.  They already suspected he had one hell of a concussion, and internal damage to boot.  But Hunter’s confusion and alarm only seemed to increase with Crosshair’s attempt to keep him from harming himself further.

“Where—? Let me go!” He croaked, only to trigger a coughing fit. “Let me—cough—let me go—!”

Moving closer, Crosshair kept his hand on Hunter’s chest and squeezed his shoulder tightly with the other.

“Hunter, look at me,” he snapped, hovering directly in his brother’s line of sight.

Whether or not Hunter registered the command was irrelevant.  He simply took another gasping breath, eyes uncomprehending and wild.

“It’s me, vod, you’re safe,” Crosshair continued.  “It’s alright.  Just breathe.”

Gradually, the panic drained from Hunter’s face, and his whole body seemed to relax slightly.  “Crosshair…?”

“Yeah,” Crosshair said, loosening his grip on Hunter’s shoulder as he watched the last of the tension dissipate.  “Now take it easy.  Tech’s going to take another look at you.”

Already, fatigue seemed to be creeping back into his brother; just keeping his eyelids open was obviously getting more and more difficult for him.  Crosshair’s gaze moved back up to Tech, who was tapping away at his datapad.  To anyone else, interpreting his expressions and mannerisms could prove challenging, but Crosshair read them with ease.  Tech didn’t need to tell them that they were running out of time – and air – fast.

If only the search party would come for them sooner.  If only we could hold on, just a little longer… Crosshair thought, as Hunter succumbed to another fit of coughs.

“Breathe.”

Crosshair blinked.  He was back.  He tasted the acrid smell of discharged blasters at the back of his throat, heard the steady whisper of the ocean.  He felt the cool stones under his palms and the steady pressure of his brother’s forehead against his own.

He breathed.

The seconds stretched on – an eternity and no time at all, until he heard the rustle of movement.  When nothing happened, no shouting, no curses, Crosshair looked up.  Hunter was standing now, eyebrows drawn together, gaze distant.  Crosshair waited several more seconds, expecting something – anything – from him.  And got nothing.  Nothing except for a single question, heavy with dread.

“Crosshair… where is Omega?”

[puppiesandnightlock]

Link: My Blood (super sons week day five)

Summary:

Damian reflects on the use of the nickname "dami" and jon tells him abt some new words he learned in arabic.

also known as some angsty shit that started out rlly sweet but ended with a possible dead damian??

The first time that Jon had called Damian “Dami”, he had instantly recoiled, with a stubborn response of “Don’t call me that.” 

After all, how could he know what it meant to him?

Nevertheless, he persisted. His brothers had taken to calling him what they assumed was only a shortened version of his name, as well as his father on rare occasions.

After a particularly hard battle, Jon had said it with such reverence, he nearly believed him when he did, although he was quick to snap back at him. 

A few similar altercations like that, and Jon had stopped, changing it to various other little nicknames, somehow only ringing it out in the most dire of situations, when emotions ran high.

It sent a pang to Damian’s heart, because although he wouldn't admit it, he missed hearing the word from his lips.

And if he were to die, that would be the last thing he wanted to hear.

“NO! No, Damian, stay with me. Stay with me, bud, just a little longer..” Jon’s face was streaked with tears, and Damian reached a bloodstained hand from where he was laying, his head on Jon's lap.

“Isn’t it funny?” He said suddenly, the world going dizzy.

The sky behind Jon was an orange-purple hue, the battlefield littered with bodies and metal pieces, and battered heroes stubling together, trying to find each other.

“What’s funny, D?” 

“You all call me Dami. and here I am, covered in my blood. ”

“Damian, Damian, please don’t-” Jon choked out, looking anywhere but Damian’s stomach, where an alien spear had pierced through the kevlar of his suit.

His hand cupped Jon’s face, bringing him back towards him. 

“Hey. Hey, look at me. It’s okay. You can let go. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

A heartbroken laugh sounded from the younger boy as he looked down at him, brushing the matted hair from his emerald eyes.

How he would miss them..

“Oh, Dami…”

“I’ll be okay, Jon. You know why? Because I'll have you with me wherever I go.” He gave a smile, the broken domino on his face sliding down.

Jon held him, desperately praying for a miracle, for at least a Bat to show up to see Damian should the worst happen.

His eyes grew heavy, and he let a smile grace his lips. “You know to tell them I love them, right?”

“Dami, stop, you're not going to die, you’re not!”

The younger boy pleaded with him, the pain in his face something that hurt Damian more than the gaping hole in his stomach.

“Call it a nap, then. Will you talk to me? I want to see you smile.”

A wobbly grin spread across his features, and his hand ran through the bleeding boy’s hair as he began to talk.

“I was so confused, why you were always so mad when I called you Dami, why you always told me to stop. I remembered you did speak arabic a lot, and so i looked it up. I found how much it must have meant to you, so I switched it up. I used it only when I wanted you to know I meant it. 

“You are my blood, my heart, my soul. You’re a part of me, a teammate, my partner. I found a few more terms like that. Hayati was my favorite. That describes who you are to me, Dami. You’re my life, my light…my whole world. I love you so much/”

His eyes shut, and the world went dark, He floated off in his mind, to wherever this would take him, with the reminisce of the words Jon had left him with. 

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. My life.

Hayati.

A/N:

DAMIAN NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

okay, you choose, did he die or was he saved????? personally i would have gone with death lmao yes i did cry a lil writing this thats how u know its good lol

i may be persuaded to put up a poll on who wants him to die and who wants him to live and write a sequel on whichever is most popular O.o

if u read it and feel the need to screm at me for doing this, go ahead id love to c it lmao

for @super-sons-week-2023

[slvt4conniee]

One More Time For Me?•Vinsmoke Sanji

contains: kitchen sex(AAAAAHHH), choking, fingering, dom!sanji, sub!reader, black reader.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

as you were walking in towards your apartment from work, you saw your lover sanji in his apron preparing dinner for you.

his nice toned back was towards you while he has on long patched pants, the colors red and black on it. You closed the door behind you, locking it for safety reasons.

he heard the door and looked behind himself, a smile forming on his face.

“hey baby, how was work?” he says, flipping over the burger patty in the pan.

you returned back the smile, taking your shoes off by the door heading towards him.

“work was great as always, very tiring though,” you responded over his shoulder. your hands around his waist.

“stay awake please. i need you to eat something before you doze off to sleep.”

you squeezed his waist tightly.

“i know i said work was tiring… but i never said i was tired,”

sanji turned the stove off, giving the burger patty time to cool.

“what are you intending here?” he questions, turning around. your hands now on his chest and his hands now around your waist; his right hand going towards your ass ever so sneakily.

“i don’t know, you tell me?” your head tilted in a bratty manner. sanji caught on quickly, one of his eyebrows lifting up faster than his hand went towards your throat. you gasped with a smile forming after.

“i know i said you need to eat food before you doze off. but you’ll be alright for a few hours right?” he added pressure around your throat making you let out a breathy whimper.

“i’ll be alright,” you responded and within that he’s already tonguing you down. his lips, so soft it made you melt. you stumbled back, making him stumble forward.

your back was now against the kitchen counter. sanji put his hand under your thighs to put you on top of the counter. his mouth unlatched from yours and went towards your neck, leaving a few marks on your neck.

while he was at your neck you undid his apron and he undid your top. your bra being exposed, your harden nipples being exposed through the thin fabric. his fingers flicking against them.

you let out a soft moan, your body twitched. he pulled your skirt down exposing your clothed pussy, his fingers trailing up and down your sides making you shiver.

“sanji please,” you whined, placing your hands on his face pulling him in for a kiss.

he kisses you back, his hand trailing down to your clothed cunt. “whatever you want beautiful,”

you push yourself forward, your ass hanging off the kitchen counter while sanji took off your underwear. his tongue licking up and down your clit, hands gripping on your ass to hold you up.

you threw your head back, your mouth slightly opened when his tongue swiped over your sweet spot. your hands wrapped up in his golden hair as you grind up against his face.

“sa–nji fuck” moans escaped your lips. he looked up at you, smiling in the process of him eating you out. he gripped your ass tighter, his left hand smacking your ass made you jump.

sanji kept sucking at that one spot he knows that makes you orgasm. putting pressure on it with his tongue, he felt your body shake. your body now grinding again this face uncontrollably, your hands gripping his head tighter making him groan.

“sanji—sanji, im gonna cum,” you repeated. your body shaking violently as you let out a high pitched moan, the sound echoing through your walls.

sanji still tonguing you down, letting your orgasm die down. he rose his head up towards you, kissing you deeply with his tongue letting you really get a taste of yourself, he sneakily slid his fingers inside your pussy making you gasp mid kiss.

“you can cum one more time for me, right princess?”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

a/n: DO NOT MIND THE POLL- IDK HOW TO ERASE THIS SHIT🥲 also not ~proof-read~

[accidentalkilljoys]

Pill-taking poll followup

#is this outrage bait #are we having a 'it never occurred to me someone would take 12 pills in one gulp because I can't do that' moment #or a 'I'm perfectly aware people take 10+ pills at once I just want attention and I don't care how I get it' moment

It’s not outrage bait, I swear! It honestly did not occur to me that, faced with a handful of small things of various sizes, shapes, and colors, tumblr users would NOT immediately sort them. (I personally take five in the morning, which I put in a little pile next to my cereal bowl, and then sneak them into my mouth between bites, largest first, like I’m tricking a dog.) 

I was not expecting over 50,000 responses to this poll. I have fewer than 100 followers, and that’s including the pornbots. But the notes are fascinating to read! 

“All at once,” or as one person called it, “the cursed jello shot,” was by far the most popular response, despite my forgetting to put it as a poll option. [The following quotes are all by different people.] 

Didn't realize there were other methods besides chaos #SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS #i slam them all back at once to take advantage of my powerful throat #i take pills with the same energy ppl in movies put their broken bone back in place #I will just shove them all in my mouth at the same time and hope I don’t die #<- YOU GOTTA SHOT GUN THEM BACK LIKE A CHEEP BEER #those mfs get gulped as a team #Genuinely I just chuck them all at once down my throat hole #i take my pills like a fucking whale shark ok!? #i gobble them up all at once like im a starving horse eating delicious gruel from the palm of a cowboy's (my own) hand. #all at once and I look like an owl eating a rat I unhinge my jaw, stuff them all in my mouth at once, then slam a big glass of water #all at once bby #all in one go baby #ALL AT ONCE BAYBE #ALL AT ONCE BABEY #Three at once baybee i am unstoppable #all at once babeeee

(There were also some people who were very judgy about people who can’t do the cursed jello shot, whose thoughts I am choosing not to reproduce here.) 

I am amazed at how many pills you all are taking at once. 

YES I usual to take 7 pills at once just to save time like a fucking animal #all at once #even if I have like 8 and they're huge #i take 9 pills at once about twice a day I take about 10 pills. I take them all at once. #i take 11 in the morning all at once including two large ones #i take 12 pills every morning and 7 at night and my family hates it but i just knock em back #i take them all at once #granted i take like 13 pills at once every night sometimes more #i take 15 pills every morning and i just swallow them all at once #i learned to take all 17 at once #i can swallow upwards of twenty pills at a time #i can easily swallow like 20-30 pills at a time

There were also a couple of notes from people who USED TO do the cursed jello shot but don’t anymore because they choked or, in one case, misfired and spent the day with a Claritin in their cleavage. 

Other things that didn’t occur to me: pills that dissolve under your tongue; people who use feeding tubes; the options of “in order from least tasty to most tasty;” random order; texture order; order in which they were prescribed; “whatever I grab first;” “all at once except the fish oil which is unreasonably large;’ order of how easy it is to swallow; in order of buoyancy because some pills float; by shape; “I only take one pill at once;” “top to bottom of my body so head pills first birth control last.” 

#i dont take any pills reglarly but secret 5th option had me think of someone fucking plinko-ing their pills

In conclusion: I’m glad we’re all doing what we need to do to survive and thrive. I’ll be over here with my cereal bowl. Thank you for participating in the poll. 

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Fic: IVF Successes, Addendum to the First (Poll Results 3rd)

You thought you got away with only a Part 1??? With one of MY favorite categories?????? THINK AGAIN!

This list was inspired by this poll, sharing 3rd place with post-Tithonus Mother Hen Mulder.

**Note**: Will ghost edit later.

Loose chronological order below~

eponine119's

Journey

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

""There was more she wanted to tell him. He could see it in her eyes. "Okay," he said gently, encouraging her to go on, watching her eyes, caressing her fingers with his, reminding himself that this wasn't about him, or his feelings. It was her, it was all about her, and he would do anything he had to in order to take care of her.

A strange look twisted her face suddenly - a mixture of fear and tears straining not to fall. His heart leapt into his throat and he expected her nose to begin to bleed again. The episodes had become more frequent over the last few weeks, and that instant of choking panic was one he'd grown to recognize. But this time, it was words she was struggling with. "The doctors say I've got a year. Give or take. And they said that I can do this."

She didn't look at him as she plunged ahead. "I didn't talk to them about your theory. I'm a doctor, I'm willing to take on that risk. But I need to know there's someone who will raise my child if it doesn't work. If I....die.""

S4 Mulder and TLG frantically look for a cure for Scully's cancer, finding tenuous links to various IVF clinics and the late MUFON women. He pitches IVF treatments to Scully, theorizing that the hormones would be enough to help. He supports her through her hesitation with his own eagerness; and the two of them puzzle their way through their fears while taking brutally honest steps to a normal, healthy relationship and new family.

@iwtbscully/@jewish-mulder/@anders-hawke/BananaChef‘s

The In-Between - Chapter 16

""Mulder takes a deep breath. “If you could have children, would you?” He meets her blue eyes.

“What?” She sits up slightly in the bed. “Mulder...”

“Please,” he says, and something in his voice must convince her to answer with a nod. Mulder nearly collapses inward with the weight of his emotions.""

Redux II Scully is told about her ova. She recovers; and Maggie proudly hangs a pic of their IVF child to celebrate their success.

Branched

""I want you to be the father of my kids.”

Mulder gazes at her like a lost puppy until she reaches out to wipe away a tear trailing along his cheek. “Me?”

She nods and cups his cheeks. “You.”

He nods with her, a smile spreading across his lips. “Okay.""

Scully found out about her infertility in S2, leading her her even more depressed outlook during her cancer. Mulder fesses up about her ova; and by the time she's in remission, they are already dating and making plans. It's a bumpy road after they save Emily and retire from the X-Files; but they get their miracle, too, in the end.

@myownsuperintendent/MyOwnSuperintendent’s

All in a Family

""I hate this,” Scully informs him, sitting back down next to him on the plane; she’s just returned from the bathroom, where he assumes, based on the expression on her face when she leapt up from her seat, she threw up. “I never got sick on planes before. Never in my life.”

“It’s the first trimester,” Mulder says. “It should stop by late February.” He realizes he doesn’t sound very comforting.""

Post Redux II Mulder tells Scully about her ova when she returns home. She immediately launches into IVF attempts. It's successful... and then she finds Emily. Maggie is shocked by their whirlwind life events when asked to witness their courthouse ceremony.

Humphreywrites's Sundries in the X-Files Universe

""They implanted four embryos and two took. Given my age in relation to this pregnancy and the fertility drugs... it just happened.” Multiples in IVF were common, she just hadn’t thought it would happen to her.

Now, he looks like he’s about to pass out. “Two?”

“They’re fine. Very strong heartbeats,” she added, as he continued to stare at her.

“You’re okay?”

She’s contemplating, bites her lip. “I’m processing,” she answers honestly.""

Early S6 Scully's IVF round is successful-- so successful she is expecting twins. Diana, however, keeps pulling Mulder away from their growing family; and it's not until a near fatal incident that gives him the guts to permanently glues himself to their sides.

Malibusunset's 40 Weeks

""After that, things escalate a little and Scully glances his way often, checking his face for evidence of visual trauma.

When the screaming starts, he presses his fingers into Scully’s thigh and she pats his hand reassuringly. His eyes are glued to the screen. It’s like a horrible accident he can’t turn away from. There’s more shrieking, bodily fluids, and carnage than The Exorcist, Halloween, and all the Scream movies combined.....

He looks at her with terror and doom in his eyes. She seems to read his mind and mouths, “it’s okay.”

It is not okay. Nothing about this process is okay.  There has to be another way to get a healthy baby out of this situation.

...Scully wants to stop for milkshakes on the way home. How can she possibly eat something? He pulls into a McDonalds, throws it in park, and leans his head against the steering wheel.""  

The IVF is successful; but for every step forward, Mulder seems to find another step back. Finally, he extracts Scully's insecurity of his commitment and reassures her of his intentions.

Thousand_Sweet_Kisses's Baby... Maybe?

""Are we telling you mother about us, and the IVF today?” Mulder asked when she came back into the room and tied her shoes.

“We can tell her about anything you want,” she smiled at him. “I personally would love to tell her that you and I have finally decided that we wanted a deeper relationship, though I would like to leave the IVF out if at all possible, she hasn’t been too comfortable with test tube babies.""

Mulder and Scully are already dating; and they join Maggie for dinner after the first embryo transplant. 

jeri's (mulderscreek) Ersatz Matriarch (mulderscreek)

""Finally, Beth broke the silence. "I have good news and bad news." Mulder and Scully turned to look at her, not saying a word. "The good news is, you'll still be parents. The bad news is one died."

Scully's motionless tears finally fell. "It was more than one?"

Beth nodded. "Triplets. The other two were fine, though. They didn't seem to be harmed a bit."

They were quiet, then Mulder asked, "Girl or boy?"

"The girl died. The other two are boys. They're perfectly healthy, I made sure of that. Please remember, Marian had a miscarriage about a year ago. She just may be one of those people who that happens to."

Scully nodded. ..."Then why weren't the other two infected?"

"Luck? I doubt we'll know the answer to that question. But I'll request the autopsy.""

S6 Mulder and Scully are dating; but she aches for the daughter that she lost. Mulder finally tells her about the ova; and the two of them work through his indecision before eventually agreeing and outreaching to a surrogate under pseudonyms. The mytharc, as always, tries to tamper with their happiness; but TLG, Skinner, Maggie, and even Bill Scully give them unflinching support.

@alienbaby-babymama/ABBM515‘s Potential

""Scully looks up at him, willing him to continue with encouragement.

“While I’d love nothing but to…” he gestures between their bodies in some weird man-sign language. “I like the pace we’re going. If it happens this weekend, then it happens. If not, I’m still gonna call you when we get back to D.C.""

Post Closure Mulder and Scully seek a reprieve at Martha's Vineyard; and she convinces him to lease it and use the rent to pay for IVF. They are, of course, successful.

Marguerite's (Ao3) How Glory Goes

""He didn't know." For a horrible, guilty second I'm afraid that I asked my question out loud, but when I look at Scully I can see that she's just telling me something I need to understand. "I didn't know, myself. I felt sick. I thought it was a cold, or stress. It wasn't until afterward..."

"He would never have left if he'd known." I'm telling her this because I saw how hurt she was when Monica put out her cult theory. "He'd never've left you."

"I know." She covers her mouth with her hands, shaking, trying not to cry..... We didn't think it worked, the in vitro, but the doctor was wrong.... He did it for me, he went in there and signed the papers and...he...""

Post TINH Scully ruminates on her IVF baby girl, now fatherless, while accepting Skinner's comfort and barely registering Doggett's own sense of failing his son yet again.

@dashakay​‘s (Ao3, Gossamer)

Fabric of Our Lives

""Our lives are much quieter now. When it all ended, after we found out the truth and lived to tell the tale, I worried that it would be the end of Mulder and me....

But Mulder, his quest for the truth was all he had, his reason for breathing. It was everything to him, all he knew.

A few days after it all ended, I came home to find him sitting at my kitchen table. His back was hunched over; his head in his hands. Mulder was crying, convulsive sobs wracking his entire body. I put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up at me, his eyes shiny with tears.

He gripped my hand.

"Are you all right?" I asked. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

He nodded. "I'm just saying goodbye.""

Part 1-- Scully is on bed rest with placenta previa; and, as she quilts to keep her mind occupied, she ruminates on her husband, Mulder, and his unshakeable ability to keep her hopes afloat: even when they transition to a normal life, even after they mortgaged the house to afford another round of IVF, even now with her Emily fears.

Bound Together With Invisible Cord

""It truly hits me then. Scully is a mother now, and I am a father. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Scully gives a sleepy smile of assent. The nurse hands over the pink bundle to her and she takes her daughter into her arms with a grace that can only be inborn.

"Hello Anna," she says, her voice cracking, "Do you know how long I waited for you?"

I am undone.""

Husband Mulder waits for Scully to wake, doing his own ruminations on his wife's struggles to achieve their daughter. 

bugs's Even Doves Have Pride 02 (PG Version)

""Scully, did I drop the baby?" I've failed already and I've only been a father for--how long had I been out?

She's calm. "No, Mulder. How's your head?"

For once, I won't accept her assurance. "Scully, where's the baby?"

"In the nursery for now." She lifts herself carefully from her wheelchair.

"Should you be up?" I fuss as I watch her tentatively take the few steps to my bed. I try to rise to help her, but my whirling vision forces me back into the pillow. I must have a concussion-- great.

As she settles herself on the edge of my bed and slowly swings her legs up beside me, she gives me her sneaky, bad-girl glance from under the sheet of her hair. "No. But I want to make sure you're okay."

I pull her close to me and we both groan in pain as our battered bodies come in contact, but neither of us shifts away.""

Mulder and Scully are married; and their IVF success sends him into compounding anxiety bolstered by unrealistic expectations of himself. This culminates during Scully's C-section when he passes out; but, luckily, it's all swept aside when their daughter turns out to be a daddy's girl.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[pyrothecary]

They weren't gonna kill Ethan for sure. Bryce as well as the second most popular LI. Jackie is the only female LI so that left Rafael to be the sacrificial lamb.

And the only reason they didn't go through with that was the script got leaked at the height of BLM protests and everyone protested that it was damn in poor taste to kill the only black LI in OPH, in a poisonous gas attack to boot.

So the attack was rewritten with the random security guard and Danny taking Rafael's place, but it was clear from Rafael's absence and the start of the story with MC at the funeral that he was the one supposed to die originally.

Man, fandom was. a. MESS. Everyone arguing on whether it was good Rafael had survived because the story suffered after the rewrites, whether PB was being racist in their decision etc. Polls were made on this subject. Everyone yelling and angry. People questioning the decision made to KILL Rafael in the first place because why not make it a close call from the start? Him dumping MC without a canon reason given already left a bad taste in people's mouths, and we never got an answer to that so it could have been a good opportunity for them to talk.

Anyway, Rafael survived and that's all that matters to me. The rest can choke.

Also, uh, I don't want to influence you but, uh, don't have much expectations out of OPH 3. It's, um, not very good. Had an interesting premise but didn't live up to it whatsoever. All non-Ethan LIs and non-LIs suffered from bad plotlines and OOC— actually even ETHAN got fucked over. It's a very frustrating book so please do your best to get into it calm.

holy fucking shit what a mess 😭😭😭 but yes i'm just glad rafael's alive and well!!!!!!

also anon PLEASE SAY SIKE. i was hoping book 3 would heal me from the shitshow that was the book 2 rafael romance. PLEASE I CAN'T TAKE ANOTHER L

[theealluringstoryteller]

Welcome to the what if series! Something I’m trying out! I also believe @themonotonysyndrome is also doing! Where we take scenarios that aren’t in the storyline of the series ‘Arranged Marriage Series’ and write ‘What if!’ If you saw my poll and voted then you know that thee scenario ‘What if the servant didn’t give the baroness a choice and took her back to the Empire’ if you still want to vote on something you can scroll through my page and fine the poll on what type of content you want to see in chapter three of my fanfic ‘Against the world around us’

@neptune-cinths

PART 2

Castin sat in front of cell glaring down at the rebels who returned his look. His anger and impatience made him more aggressive. Time was of the essence and it seemed like everyone around was wasting his time, playing in his face. It’s been about two days since the rebels took Omorose. Two days since Castin recovered from neglecting himself and he wasn’t going to allow himself to recover any longer, he couldn’t.

“I get it! I’m a degenerate, rake, low life, dross that disgust you all but- I am this close to slicing your throats! Where exactly are they taking her?”

“Threats…Will get you no where…” the rebel Castin ruthlessy beat weakly trailed.

“Threats?” Castin question pulling out a knife pointing it menacingly through the cell bars.

“I don’t make threats.” Castin huffed. His thumb rubbing along the handle as he tried to calm himself a bit.

“Promises are meant to be broken.” The rebel said trying to piss Castin off.

“I’m not making a promise! I’m stating how I feel. I feel like I’m this,” Castin used his thumb and index finger to showcase just how close he was to snapping. “Close to opening this cell and slicing your neck! I’ve put up with enough Imperial bullshit but taking my wife crosses the line from what I’m willing to let go! Where are they taking her?”

“Imperial bullshit? You’re married to an Imperial! Is that how you see her? Bullshit you have to deal with?”

Castin scoffed getting out of his seat that knocked backwards from the force of him getting up aggressively. He snatched the keys from the guards hook, unlocking the only thing that kept Castin away from the rebels.

The sounds of gargling echoed through stone walls of the prison as the rebel choked on his blood. Castin watched on his face showing no emotion as the man died at his hands. Soon the noises stop and Castin turned towards the other rebels that occupied the cell.

“I’m not afraid to repeat myself.” He gritted through his teeth holding up the bloodied weapon.

“Fort! They are taking her to a fort!”

Rhett walked along side Castin trying to speak reason into him. The rebellions are on going and the last thing Rhett needed was for his commander to abandon his duty. “We will get her back! After we put an end to theses rebellions-”

Castin stopped in his tracks done with Rhett trying to stop him. “No! They could hurt her or worse Rhett! She isn’t safe-”

“She’s an imperial she’s safe among them-”

“Rhett please! You’ve seen what they have done during the war! They are ruthless-”

“They won’t kill one of their own.”

“Okay but what will they do to the wife of an Intacian Commander?” Castin questioned crossing his arms over his broad chest. His furious emotions diminished into sadness. “They already took my mother Rhett! And now you’re allowing them to take the only thing in this world that matters to me-”

“She’s the only thing that matters to you?” Rhett asked slightly hurt at the news.

“I would die for her, I would kill for her, Rhett…I need her.”

“And you’ll get her back! After we-”

“No! I’m not putting anything or anyone above Omorose. She’s my only Priority.”

Omorose sat in her room that the rebels assigned to her. She’s been there drowning in her though and anxiety silently suffering. Could this be the start of a new war? Everything she’s done and sacrificed all wasted at that impending possibility. She thought peace was finally here but was she wrong. Could she loose everything she’s ever wanted? Could she loose Castin?

Their last moments together spent on an argument. Was that the last time she was ever going to see him? The thought made her heart hurt.

She loved him! She really did. Though they had their ups and downs and many things to work through she knew he was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

A knock on the door startled Omorose out of her thoughts. “Lunch will be served soon. Will you be joining us or should I bring your food to your room.”

Ellis asked walking into the room with a fresh pile of clothes in his arms.

Quickly Omorose dried her eyes and stood up looking on as Ellis set out the clothes on her bed.

“I’ll join…”

“Perfect many have been waiting to see you.”

Omorose was curious. Curious to know who else was apart of the Rebellion. Curious to know who saw the new kingdom as its enemy. Who was no longer her friend and ally. Thought she knew curiosity kills the cat the satisfaction of knowing just who she couldn’t trust is sweetest thing the rebels could ever give her.

So she bathed and got dressed making herself presentable before making her way towards the dinning hall just to see just who were all rebels.

“Oh my dear Baroness! We heard if your arrival and couldn’t wait to see you!” The countess if the coastal bay positively hummed walking towards Omorose with a bright smile. “We are so glad to see you away from your captors! We are truly sorry none of us intervened when that bastard king married you off to that Intacian Gorilla.” The Duke of the south coast chimed in offering a glass of wine.

“You didn’t have to-” Omorose attempted to explain her marriage but was cut off swiftly as the Duke took her hand and placed the glass in it. “Nonsense! Your parents would have a heart attack if they were here.”

“A woman from your social class shouldn’t be married to such a degenerate rake.”

“It’s very low to insult someone’s spouse especially in front of them.” Omorose spoke up in defense.

“Oh please Omorose! You’ve been given a shitty deal by the Intacians and now that you’re back in the coastal Empire you’ll get your life back! Marry someone who has actual worth.”

“I love my husband.”

“Ellis told us about your… syndrome.” The Dutchess shameful whispered the last part taking Omorose’s unoccupied hand in hers. Stroking her aged thumb across the youthful skin on the back of Omorose’s hand.

Omorose raised an eyebrow in question. “Syndrome?”

“Stockholm! He must’ve done a number on you!”

“A number on me?” Omorose gasped not knowing why they would say such a thing. They were so asinine before but now! They took it to a whole new level.

“He has his faults but he isn’t mentally abusive.”

“Physically then?” The Duke asked leaning in closer.

“He would never!”

“We heard about you storming out of the room where you ‘decided’ to agree to marry him. Him putting his hands on Lord Reyes, allowing your servants into your bedroom while your indecent and vulnerable. Embarrassing you and dismissing your feelings in front of his soldiers.” The Duke went on placing a ‘comforting’ arm around Omorose. Lightly breathing in her scent.

“I dismissed the brutality and violence our country committed against them-”

“Brutality and violence? We only tried to make them civil!”

“Civil? Imperials savagely murdered them! Soldiers and the women and children!”

“The Empire kills those who poses a threat. They must’ve had a reason.”

The baroness scoffed. “Mass murder? Genocide?”

“Intacians are low lives who needed help getting out of their primitive ways! We were helping until they fought back.”

Omorose’s face morphed into disgust looking at the two as if they were the stupidest creatures who walked the earth.

After a long journey alone Castin finally made his way into the Empire.

Running on a day of sleep and one meal he used majority of his energy fighting against a group of rebels he came across. Killing all but one who tried to run away after noticing how weak the fight made Castin, but the Intacian warrior threw a blade that embedded its self into the rebels leg keeping him from going far. That line rebel was going to show Castin which fort the rebels were using.

The Intacian Commander knew that if he wanted to actually get to his wife he had to rest and eat unless he wanted to die out in the forest. After cleaning and dressing the rebel’s wound the two snuck into an ear Imperial town that was once an Intacian village that was taken over a hundred years ago.

As they ate in the dark corner of a small diner Castin couldn’t help but ask.

“Why?”

“Why what.” Grumbled the rebel

“Why are you apart of the rebellion? Do you not want peace?”

“Of course I do but, not with you low lives-”

“Low lives? You Imperials-”

“Are suffering under Intacian hands!”

Castin’s eyes soften a bit at the rebel’s claim

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The way Intacians treat those who had nothing to done with the war like shit! Intacians refuse to service us at their shops. We have to pay Intacian servants and warriors half of our wages just so they can go into town and buy what we need. Your men have threatened us- many of us have been assaulted!”

Appalled at what the rebel was saying not wanting to believe it. He knew if the disdain Intacians had but he never would’ve thought they would go so low.

“Why didn’t any of you say anything? I would’ve straighten them out!”

The rebel rolled his eyes pushing his food around on his plate with his fork. “Sure you would’ve.”

“I’m serious! If you guys didn’t feel comfortable with me you could’ve gone to Omorose-”

“And put her under more stress? Your king already turned her into his work mule! We didn’t want to add anymore stress on her. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“We can both agree on that-”

“You don’t deserve her.”

Castin let out a sigh tired of hearing that and feeling like it was true.

Everything he wanted for himself and for his future lied with Omorose and imperials constantly reminded him how undeserving he was to it all. She was all he wanted in life and he would fight for her.

“It’s true…I don’t but I love her and will do anything to get her back.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“You love her but the whole Linger-”

“Was foolish! And happened before I fell in love her. We moved passed that.”

“Fine! Allowing Ellis into your shared room while The Baroness is in the bath…naked! No loving husband would even entertain the thought of such a thing.”

“He was barely looking at her.”

“He saw more than enough of her. Like the birth mark right above her-”

“Woah! You guys have discussions about my wife’s body?” Castin felt himself getting heated at the mere thought.

“We talk about your brutish behavior and how you enjoy showing the Baroness off as if she was a show pony.” The rebel states giving Castin a blank stare over castins words.

“I don’t-”

“You do! We have all seen it and we have all witness her smile fake and replace with a fake one to keep up appearances.”

After their meal they were back on the road towards the fort. It took another day to get there and Castin was growing eager to have Omorose back in his arms safe and sound.

“There’s no way you’ll be able to get in, get to the Baroness, and then get out.” The rebel spoke as they took cover behind the greenery close to the fort.

“I know… that’s why Rhett has been following us with an army.”

Suddenly Rhett appeared quickly coming to Castin’s side as the rest of the army hid behind tress and small hills.

“How long have they been-”

“I started to notice them after 3 days.”

“Brother I am truly sorry for allowing you to face this alone. After much thou-”

“Don’t worry about Rhett! You’re always there when you’re needed.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We get them to attack and while they are distracted by battle I’ll sneak in and get Omorose”

Omorose sat in her room refusing to leave it and be amongst the fool headed nobles. Deep in her though and woes. Her room quite no longer “Baroness! We have to move. We’ll get you to someplace safe!” Ellis barged into her room quickly grabbing a hold of her arm and yanking her out of her seat that sat by the widow she was staring out off.

“Why?” She asked startled at by his sudden agitated state.

“Intacians are attacking!”

“Then let’s put an end to this.”

“Surrender?”

Omorose nodded “the endless violence needs to stop!”

Ellis grumbled pulling Omorose out of her room “Those Intacians really got in your head.”

Rhett lead the army into an attack as Castin used the battle as a detraction to sneak into the fort. Sneaking passed the fort walls and taking down anyone that he came across swiftly before entering the main quarters.

“An Intacian made his way passed the walls!” The Duke scrambled away passing by ascendants that stayed to defend the Imperial Nobles.

“Stop right there?” A fire ascendant ordered.

“I’m only here for my wife-”

“The Baroness? You’re the bull that got lucky?” The Duke laughed sarcastically.

“Excuse me- I’m not in the mood for any bullshit! Where is Omorose?”

Omorose ran quickly the hem of her dress in her hands as she kept telling herself not to look back. Ellis close behind adamant on getting her out of the fort.

The Baroness rounded the corner towards the common room she knew she had to pass to get to the vault she planned tricking Ellis in.

Her fast feet halted in the common room seeing a familiar face.

“Castin?”

“Sweetheart.”

“Of course he’s here!” Ellis spat hurrying into the room.

Castin tore his eyes away from his wife looking at Ellis like he was insane. “I get it! Intacians treated you guys like shit but, that doesn’t justify you taking my wife. Come on man that’s a low move.” Castin voiced unsheathing his sword itching to use it on the man that planted the worse feeling in him.

“Your king manipulating her into marrying you was a low move.”

“Manipulate? I know the beginning of our relationship was rocky but I gave her an option to leave…twice and she stayed.”

“Stockholm syndrome!” The Dutchess called out pointing at Castin.

“What?!” He called out sick of everyone in front of him except Omorose.

“They think I have Stockholm syndrome.” Omorose explained slowly inching her way towards Castin.

“It’s clear you do.”

“I don’t! I hated him at first but I truly do love him now-”

“Which is a clear sign of Stockholm syndrome.” The Dutchess stressed.

“I’ve been stuck with theses asinine people more than enough.” Omorose said tiredly, making her way to Castin side.

Castin lowered his sword pulling Omorose into a tight hug keeping his eyes on his enemies.

“Did they hurt you? Are you hurt?” He questioned pushing the sandy coils away from Omorose’s face to get a better look at her when he glanced down at her for a second. “I’m fine. I’m okay…” Omorose assured him laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms the furthest they could go around him.

“You on the other hand. Castin it looks like you barely slept-”

“I couldn’t. Not when you weren’t-Sweetheart I was so teary when they overtook the palace and then wh-when the rebels took you…I-I just-”

“Shh I’m here, with you, safe-”

Ellis rolled his eyes at the sight before loudly encouraging the ascendants to “Attack him!”

“The Baroness!”

“He won’t allow her to get hurt! Trust me he has quick reflexes!”

“I would advise against it! I may be the king and emperor but I’m still a witch hunter when it calls for it.” Rhett’s voice boomed as warrior flooded into the building.

“It’s good to see you safe and well Baroness! You should’ve seen Castin though. Brink of death this one was!” Rhett said walking towards the couple as the warriors arrested the rebels.

“It’s good to see you too. How’s Aurelia?”

“She’ll be better when she learns your safe.”

“Thank the Goddess you are. I was loosing my mind.” Castin admitted placing a kiss on Omorose’s hairline before tucking her back into him.

Finally able to actually rest knowing she was safe.

Do you guys think Desmond Asmr modeled the Intacians after Vikings in some ways? I’m watching this series on Netflix and it’s low key reminding me of Castin and the other warriors.

Just a thought.

[paperanddice]

The poll I put up on Patreon also gained a lot of votes for 13th Age material. A lot of people who love the system have been finding my work, it's very wonderful, so based on the votes I'm going to be changing up my weekly schedule going forward. Twice a week will be 5e and 13th Age conversions of Pathfinder Bestiary material, and once a week will be a post just for two 13th Age conversions of either material I made for 5e before discovering 13th Age or monsters from the Tome of Beasts.

Starting these 13th Age conversions is a few of the unusual elementals I made back at the very start of my regular monster production. Most people summoning elementals go for the base 4, but by channelling that energy into alternate mediums you can get versions that may be more useful to your specific situation. They are also sometimes summoned accidentally, such as when someone is going for an air elemental but the area it's summoned in is so choked with dust that some Earth is called up as well and creates a merged air/earth elemental. Ice elementals are simply water in the right environment, and while they are vulnerable to fire and melt easily, canny conjurers can purposefully include them in ice spells to heal them up and keep them in a fight longer.

I didn't give these elementals the same 4 levels that the four core 13th Age elementals have, partly just because it's a bit of busy work. Releasing 4 stat blocks for each one that mostly are just number adjustment for different levels is useful for letting the creatures show up across the spectrum of the game without the GM having to do as much work, but for this I'll leave the adjustments to those who want to scale them up or down. They are slotted in as one level higher than the "normal" version of the elementals, representing that utilizing non-standard environments is a little bit more powerful but harder to pull off in a lot of places.

This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

Dust Elemental  6th level spoiler [elemental]  Initiative: +11 Dusty Strike +11 vs. PD - 17 damage. Natural Even Hit: The target pops free from the elemental. Natural Odd Hit: The target is also hampered (save ends). Burrower: loose ground like dust and sand only. Flight. Resist Non-Spell Damage 14+. Dust Devil Transformation: Roll a d8 at the start of each of the dust elemental’s turns. If you roll less than or equal to the escalation die, it shifts into dust devil form until the end of the battle. While in this form it gains the following attack (and you stop rolling dust devil transformation checks): Slashing Whirlwind +11 vs. PD (all engaged enemies and one nearby enemy) - 10 damage and the target is hampered (save ends). Natural 16+: The target is also dazed while hampered. AC 22 PD 21 MD 16 HP 74

Ice Elemental  6th level blocker [elemental]  Initiative: +9 Vulnerability: Fire Jagged Icy Fists +10 vs. AC (2 attacks) - 6 damage plus 6 cold damage. Natural 16+: The target is also stuck until the end of the ice elemental’s next turn. Freeze Over: Roll a d8 at the start of each of the ice elemental’s turns. If you roll less than or equal to the escalation die, it shifts into frigid defender form until the end of the battle. While in this form it gains a +1 bonus to AC and PD and the freezing aura ability (and you stop rolling freeze over checks). Freezing Aura: Staggered enemies that start their turn nearby the elemental must roll a normal save. On a failure, they are stuck until the end of that turn. Absorb Ice 18 and below: When the ice elemental is targeted by an attack that deals cold damage and rolls a natural 18 or less, the elemental heals 3d6 hit points and takes no damage from the attack. AC 22 PD 20 MD 16 HP 92