#void and morals KILLED ME

[aur-el-ias]

@laulo821

[robygoonn2]

wait do u guys actually think the narrator is hot? i thought it was a joke

[chaos-burst]

[ID: a digital illustration of two D&D characters, one mine (Asche, he/him, on the left) and the other one belonging to @fearless-flower (Kieran, he/him, on the right) done by @sadfishkid. The art shows the two characters from a bird's eye view as they're lying on a bed, spooning and asleep. Asche is a black-skinned tiefling/fire genasi with black, untidy hair and orange, glowing markings all over his body as well as many scars and bruises. Kieran is the big spoon behind him. He is a grey-skinned drow with long, pointy ears, black curly hair and he's wearing a white tank top and a turquoise shorts with small dragons on it. Next to the bed stands a nightstand with pain killers, sweets and two mugs on it. Warm evening sunlight bathes the scene in a soft, orange glow. End ID]

At this point I feel like Tasha is the official artist for my Enor campaign :'D Kieran is a PC (rogue/fighter) in my homegame and Asche is an NPC (rogue/warlock). When the guy who was sent to assassinate you saves your life instead this is what happens. Oops.

[gece-misin-nesin]

Regarding Batman and Responsibility: A Rant

So, whenever there is talk about the age old question of "Should Batman kill Joker?" there is always, and I mean always someone who says something along the lines of: "But it's not Batman's responsibility to kill Joker so it's wrong to put the burden onto him." and on the surface this seems like a reasonable argument. After all, there is a police department in gotham, there is a government, so shouldn't we hold them accountable as well? Well, not exactly.

(Warning: I probably mispelled responsibility and responsible a LOT in this post, please don't begrudge me for it.)

Of course, those institutions ARE responsible for the Joker to some degree but the real question, to me, is: why is Batman considered as "NOT responsible" when he very much is.

People who make this argument usually say: "Well Batman is a volunteer, a vigilante! This is practically none of his bussiness." And true, Bruce isn't required to be a vigilante, he does it entirely out of his own volition. But is that not the whole reason why he IS responsible? I mean, Bruce is the one who CHOSE to take up that responsibilty, he is the one who CHOSES to shoulder that burden. In that sense he isn't that different from a government official/cop/etc. those people do it of their on will too don't they? Bruce, day after day, year after year, choses to fight for Gotham, to protect it and its people; he takes those responsibilities onto himself and yet... stopping Joker somehow, isn't one of them?

In my opinion, it is hypocritical. Bruce is the one who says things like "Gotham is MY city" or "I don't allow metas in Gotham, you need MY permission." or "You can't operate as a vigilante in Gotham without my say-so."(Stephanie Brown, anyone?) he routinely describes his vigilantism as a "war on crime"(which, yikes) and calls it a "crusade" and says it is his "mission" no? He chooses to do these things all on his own, no one forces him to. At a certain point, it's a matter of integrity. He can't pick and choose what exactly constitutes to protecting Gotham and what doesn't. He can't decide that beating up muggers in the streets is extremely important and is his job while improving Arkham isn't. He can't decide that, despite putting Joker in Arkham over and over again knowing he's going to escape, he isn't at least partly responsible for Joker's future victims. He can't keep stopping people from killing Joker(Under the Red Hood, hello!), saving Joker from the death row, putting Joker into a Lazarus Pit, or saving him from natural disasters(because you KNOW he would) and then claim "Oh, but killing Joker isn't my responsibility." He can't willingly claim responsibility for Gotham in every other scenario, EXCEPT for that. That's just having your cake and trying to eat it too. Unless he decided that by saving Joker he is not actually harming Gotham, by allowing Joker to live he is actively NEGLECTING his mission, his duty. And anyway, I thought the whole point of superhero comics was that people with power to better things shoud use those powers to do exactly that. Batman DOES have the power to "better" Gotham, he just isn't using it.

"Killing Joker isn't Batman's responsibility." No, it is. Because protecting Gotham and its people IS his responsibility, as he took it onto himself. If he didn't want to deal with the consequences of such a thing then he shouldn't have become a vigilante in the first place.

Mind you, this doesn't mean he's the ONLY one responsible, far from it, just that he is.

(I genuinely don't remember whether I made a post on this before but I have ranted about this to myself outloud when alone multiple times and if I have to think about this so do you)

[And YES we all know the real reason is because Joker is DC's cashcow, that is not the point of this post...]

[kaleidoscopic-quiddity]

i know i shouldnt be suprised but sinners being out for less than a week and already tumblr is fandomifying and 'poor wet pathetic cat'-ifying the main white man villain of the movie is so... disapointing??? like did the fucking point of the movie really go over your heads that badly or are you just willingly ignorant and stupid?

AND BEFORE ANYONE STARTS; im not saying you cant like remmick, he's a very interesting character, a great villain, and jack o'connell gave a great performance playing him, nor do i care if you think hes sexy, I think hes sexy

but i think to come out of a movie where vampires serve as a metaphor for how black american communities have the life sucked out of them by white people via cultural appropriation (remmick wanting to use sammie's gift to summon his own ancestors) and forced assimilation (all the turned vampires singing and dancing along with remmick's irish folk song and dance juxtaposed with the blend of cultures during sammie's song in the juke joint) and for your main take away to be 'aww the main villain is just a misunderstood sadboy' or 'idc abt the atrocities he looked sexy doing them (when the atrocities in question were racism)' then youre just being so disengenuous and antithetical to the whole point of the film?

and dont come at me with the 'let people enjoy things' bullshit, sinners is a movie FUNDAMENTALLY about racism and racial dynamics in the united states, and i do think focusing on your little y/n x [whiteboy of the month] fics and 'hes so babygirl' posts do actually stunt your own critical engagement with the message this movie was trying to convey to its audience

i think its also a disservice to remmick's character; the moral nuance that comes to light when you consider his position as an irish immigrant to the US, a victim of the colonialist british empire just like the black main cast (although in a very different way) and how, whilst his desire to reclaim his ancestry and heritage is understandable and even relatable, his pursuit of sammie and willingness to kill literally everyone else at the juke joint is allegorical for how, regardless of their own marginalisation, white people will prey upon and steal from black culture(s) and destroy/disenfranchise black communities to serve their own interests, and the movie is NOT subtle about this either, delta slim literally lays it out for us "white folks like the blues just fine, they just don't like the people who make them"

idk im yelling into the void here, the ppl im complaining about are never going to give a shit about racism or even just critically engaging with art when theres a new cute whiteboy to write fluff and angst about, but its just soooo annoying to see, yet again, how fandom spaces, which SHOULD be about uplifing and celebrating art in all its diversity and complexity, once again is nothing more than people ignoring anything that actually makes them have to confront reality and filing off the serial numbers to slot characters into pre-determined fanon molds so they can pump out incorrect quotes and coffee shop AUs en masse until the media iliterate heat death of the universe

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

To the one guy who maybe remembers the void wip ... I put off writing that because I thought it would be too challenging and my skills weren't at that level back then. And now I've been thinking abt it. And I feel like I might? Have an idea for how it finally could work?

[offmyfuxkingmind]

sometimes i wish people held their morality lectures in front of a mirror instead of dumping them on your head

[totalapathy]

141 x reader Fic REC | Follow the Authors!

I did not write any of these. This is a list of fanfics I really liked that include all members of the 141 x reader or poly!141 x reader. If you have a 141 fanfic you like msg me and ill add it to the list! If you are an author and do not want your fic listed msg me and ill take it down.

- Series -

Off to See the Wizard | @nerdygirlramblings

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 9/? | 15.2k | Stuck on Reader being someone like Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds, stationed in the US under Laswell

Forever winter (If you go) | @loveindefinitely

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 14/? | 50.1k | When your commander -- Phillip Graves -- turns against the Los Vaqueros and Task Force 141, you find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Between your own morals, and your duty to serve the man you can no longer idolise, a choice must be made.Do you help the two operatives you know deserve to live? Or do you fight with your unit -- the men you swore to stand beside?The decision is made when you find yourself stumbling, quite literally, into one Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish; and, effectively, the 141's entire lives.

This is Going To Hurt | @moody-alcoholic

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 5/10 | 14.8k | During a botched military convoy you're kidnapped by Al-Qatala. While the rest of 141 are on their way to find you, you're forced to endure torture and help the enemy to survive.

On a Wing and a Prayer | @moody-alcoholic

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 11/11 | 19.2k | 141 mistaken you for the traitor. The person who leaked intel to Makarov and got Johnny shot. Now you're forced to move on without the people you love the most.

Rec Room | @void-my-warranty

Poly!141 x Reader | Series | 2/? | 3.6k | NSFW The 141 swear the clit is in the wrong spot and you show them proof. After you sneak off to the rec room to jerk off at night, but Ghost seems to have a similar idea.

Fire Watch | @auspicioustidings

Firefighter!141 x Reader | Series | 14/14 | 30k | NSFW You really should have been less stubborn and just called an electrician to do the wiring, because after your cottage had went up in a blaze the 141 had made the decision to spirit you away to their fire tower deep in the woods to take care of you.

Deity!AU | @meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender

Deity!141 x Reader | Series | 3/4 | 10k | NSFW Once upon a time, there were four gods. Together, they took turns helping the mortals. But what spirit connects them all, centering their efforts? Of what clear mission banner do they unite under? To whom is the focal point of life’s great mysteries? In other words, smut about diety! 141

Mafia AU | @peachil

Mafia!141 x Show girl/Law Student!Reader | Series | 9/? | 17.5k | You’re a law student who performs shows at night, and you catch the eyes of a group of dangerous man.

Dukedom AU | @beloveds-embrace

141 x Duchess!Reader | Series + Extras + Drabbles | Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️

Omegaverse Works | @beloveds-embrace

| Poly!141 x Designationless!Reader | Poly!141 x ES Omega!Reader Beloved's embrace's omegaverse works

Hoarfrost | @prettypinkguns

Wolf Shifter!141 x Human!Reader | Series | 1/? | 5.5k | You soon realize something wasn’t quite right about those men or the pack of wolves, with their strangely intelligent eyes, that frequented the woods surrounding your property. Curious, you're determined to get to the bottom of it. But as the saying famously went… curiosity kills the cat.

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood | @soaps-mohawk

Poly!141 x Omega!reader | Series | 46/? | 377.5k | NSFW Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it. It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks.  As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Call of Duty Omegaverse AU | sprout-fics

Poly!141 x Omega!Reader | Series | 14/? | 20.9k | NSFW You've concealed your presence as an omega for your entire military career, careening up the ranks, collecting accolades, and having the privilege to assist the notorious 141 Taskforce. Yet on a mission gone wrong, you find yourself in circumstances entirely out of your control, and the events that follow hurtle you into the path of a pack that finds out they will do anything to make you theirs.

Only Human | @diejager

Monster!141 + König & Horangi x Human!reader | Series + Extras + Drabbles | God - Laswell - blessed you with a team of strong, capable monsters.

- Shots -

Home is where you are | @1-ker0sene-1

Poly!141 x Wife!Reader | One Shot | 1.3k | It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are.

Something Bad | @loves-alibi

Dark!141 x Reader | One Shot | 1.6k | There’s something wrong with the 141…

Digital Mischief , 02 | @goatgoesmbe

Poly!141 x Reader | Double Shot | 3.8k | "In which you joined a discord server to find people to play an FPS game with, only to be welcomed by four military men."

Body Electric | @yeyinde

141 + Los Vaqueros x reader | One Shot | 8.9k | NSFW Several drinks in, Gaz turns to you and says: never have I ever... had a gangbang before, and things quickly devolved from there. (Well. You can scratch that off your bucket list.)

Afterburn | sprout-fics

141 & Los Vaqueros x reader | One Shot | 8k | NSFW Sprout-fic's take on the aftermath of Body Electric by @yeyinde

Call in Sick | @yufloria

Soft!141 x Reader | One Shot | 3.2k | After a mission gone wrong in an undisclosed location Task Force 141 is forced to stay in a safe house, a cabin, in the middle of a dense forest and high between the mountains. It is no task for the team but unfortunately for you. You were injured.  

Gangbang | @konigsblog

141 x Reader | One Shot | 6.5k | NSFW the 141 finally have their way with their teasing, disobedient recruit.

Crappy Alpha Male Bf Gets Dunked On | @charliemwrites

Poly!141 X Teammate's Gf!Reader | One Shot | 2.7k | Mr. steal your girl 141 & crappy alpha male bf

Free use Medic | @all-purpose-dish-soap

Poly!141 X Medic!Reader | One Shot | 1.1k | NSFW "You can share,” Price tells them. Then he gives you a pointed look. “Saves time. You can rest on the bird, sweetheart."

Ravenous , 02 | @tojisun

| One Shot | 7k | NSFW cant come <fuck me please <> quite forward of you. well, since you asked so nicely, we’re on our way.You had sent the message to- you had sent it to the damn group chat

Need to Listen to Me | @loveindefinitely

Poly!141 X Teammate!Reader | One Shot | 4.4k | NSFW Yeah. You don't fear many things. But Johns disappointment is quite easily in your top three, and this situation only cements it.

Our Girlfriend | @vampire-matcha

141 X Kyle's Gf!Reader | One Shot | 2.2k | NSFW Everyone always talks about John “share my wife” Price but what about Kyle “our girlfriend” Garrick???

"Shared Wife" Trope | @beloveds-embrace

141 x Price's Wife!Reader | One Shot | 1.2k | It wasn’t just him anymore, though. They were always there, watching. Protecting- for you belonged to John, and so did they

Bf Simon Shares Your Nudes With the Boys | @duskier

141 x Simon's Gf!Reader | One shot | 1.2k | NSFW "Come awn, tell us about her Lt," Soap would try and goad him. They were leaned up against each other, shoulder to shoulder against the wall behind them.

Our Girlfriend , 02 , 03 | @3amfanfiction

141 x Johnny's Gf!Reader | Triple Shot | 9.5k | NSFW (unknowingly) being the team's girlfriend. Smut, fluff, & a snippet

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star | @vellichor-of-the-solivagant

Professor!141 X Student!Reader | One Shot | 5.3k | NSFW A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy.

The Prize of Prey | @quitefawnish

Knight!141 x Reader | One Shot | 3.6k | NSFW knights in the middle ages only had to court noble women, whereas any peasant woman was open to their desires, and they were in fact encouraged to do so.

Bodyguard!141 x Sick!Reader | @beloveds-embrace

| One Shot | 1.7k | while you had initially bristled at the idea of four men shadowing your every step, you’d quickly grown accustomed to their presence.It was hard not to. They made you feel protected.

Deductive Reasoning | @auspicioustidings

Merman!141 X Researcher!Reader | One Shot | 1.3k | Mermen au with mer TF141 and researcher reader trying to learn about their... biology

Saint's Story , 02 | @charliemwrites

Omega!141 x Alpha!reader | Double Shot | 3.8k | NSFW having a full-time Alpha in a squad isn’t a necessity except in special circumstances.Per usual, Task Force 141 is special circumstances.

Yandere Hybrid team 141 | @nina-renmen

Hybrid!141 x Polarbear Hybrid!Reader | One Shot | 1.2k | 141 stumbles upon y/n. Thinking that she’s small and fragile they attempt to ‘take advantage’ of her only to figure out she’s a polar bear hybrid.

- Drabbles -

141 x Reader | Drabble | @cod-indulgences 141 finds your dildos NSFW 141 X Younger!Reader | Drabble | @loveindefinitely Uni Student!reader meets the 141 at a military bar 141 x Medic!Reader | Drabble | @goatgoesmbe there are an odd four that somehow always made your day better. Poly!141 X Puppy Girl!Reader | Drabble | @loveindefinitely 141 with a girl who acts more like a puppy than a soldier NSFW Poly!141 x Reader | Drabble | @lunarkitten97 Poly!141 x reader with an oral fixation NSFW Poly!141 x Reader | Drabble | @duskier Price holding your pussy open with his thumbs while the rest of the team looks over his shoulder NSFW Poly!141 x Reader | Drabble | @xo-cod Sharing the barracksSharing the barracks NSFW 141 x Kyle's Gf!Reader | Drabble | @all-purpose-dish-soap Poker night. But the boys know how to keep things interesting Retired!141 x Neighbor!Reader | Drabble | @burner141 they meet you. The charming new neighbor with a pretty voice and an even prettier smile. 141 x Bartender!Reader | Drabble | @devil-in-hiding The boys find out your not married Monster!141 x Owl hybrid!Reader | Drabble | @gremlingottoosilly Monster!141 turn Barn Owl!reader into their pet NSFW Monster!141 x Cat hybrid!Reader | Drabble | @gremlingottoosilly Kitten!reader gets tied up in string just as Monster!141 come back NSFW Monster!141 x Bunny Hybrid!Reader | Drabble | @gremlingottoosilly Crybaby Bunny!Reader who stumbles upon Monster!141's base NSFW Vampire!141 x Human!Reader | @beloveds-embrace they don’t tell you they are vampires and you have no reason to suspect they are Demon!141 x Reader | Drabble | @red5tars demon!141 staking claim on the poor little thing that summoned them. Dark!141 x Angel!Reader | Drabble | @goatgoesmbe GuardianAngel!Reader who was sent to 141 at their darkest time. Hybrid!141 x Human!Reader | @ cs-fox they’d be so surprised when a normal human joins their task force. Hybrid!141 x Crow Hybrid!Reader | Drabble | @ teddy-bear-baby crow hybrid!y/n joining hybrid!TF141 and just stealing random things from them Poly!141 x Beta!Reader | Drabble | @ teletubbyinlipstick okay, hear me out a/b/o tf141 universe where female betas are RARE. Poly!141 x Omega!Reader | Drabble | @ kaadaaan Soap who is sick of being the only omega in his pack so he’s digging up some dirt on another Sergeant Poly!141 x Omega!Reader | Drabble | @ kaadaaan They wind up with another omega, and find themselves more attached than they thought they would be. NSFW Poly!141 x Omega!Reader | Drabble | @ thecherubangel ���Simon…f-fuck stop-“ You close your legs and try to move his hand; the others watch as you struggle in Ghosts grasp. NSFW Viking!141 x Reader | Drabble | @ nerdygirlramblings viking!141 with some historical accuracy Knight!141 x Peasant!Reader | Drabble | @ drgnflyteabox four massive armour clad knights at the door... and whaddyaknow, they're looking to stay the night NSFW Cultist!141 x Reader | Drabble | @ pricegouge Outlast2!au “Give us a baby and we’ll keep you safe.”

Last updated 03/11/25

[lacroixqueen]

you're too pretty to kill (18+, noncon)

deadpool x fem!reader

Summary: deadpool was hired to kidnap and kill reader but reader is just too cute so it puts him in a moral dilemma

Pairing: fem!reader x deadpool

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: bondage, brat, gun kink, gun play, praise kink

You loved days when you could just rollerblade around the city without so much as a care in the world. The feeling of the warm summer breeze running through your hair. Watching as the lights zipped by like dust lost in the wind. You wish you could do this forever. After all, it was your peace, your one true happy place. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Out of nowhere, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a leather glove holding a handkerchief cover your nose and mouth. 

You tried your best to fight whoever your assailant was back, pulling on his wrist in a desperate attempt to rip it off your face. But before you knew it, you felt your vision blur and your head begin to spin. It felt like the world was melting right before your very eyes. 

Next thing you knew, you woke up to a sea of black. You could feel a piece of fabric cloaking your vision and tied securely behind your head. You tried to move your hand to hoist yourself up, only to find that both your hands were roped together behind your back. You tried to scream into the void, only to find that your mouth was sealed with a piece of tape.

“Mmfffhn!” you managed to sputter out, leaning against what felt like a cold, concrete wall. In fact, it was quite chilly wherever you were. Was it a basement? Warehouse? Regardless, you were shivering from head to toe. The tiny crop top and mini skirt you threw on this morning before going rollerblading was just not cutting it, unfortunately. 

You quickly snapped your head in the direction of what sounded like heavy footsteps and… clapping?

“Well, well, well,” a sly voice rumbled from the opposite end of the room. “Now what do we have here?” 

The unknown person gradually made his way over toward you, knelt before you, and removed your blindfold and gag. 

You looked up, only to lock eyes with what you could only describe as two white ellipses, narrowing ever so slightly amidst the shadows. Your eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness. 

“Such a shame,” your captor sighed to himself. “You’re so pretty too. As in, way prettier than most of my other victims. Normally my clients pay me big bucks to knock out assholes with beer bellies, bad breath, and a name on the registry but you.” He made a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers as if to take your photograph. “You are perfect.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with me..?” you stammered, almost too afraid to ask. You never took your eyes off of him. He was tall, lanky, even. Dressed in all red and black. You took note of the gun in his holster and the two massive swords strapped behind his back.

“Oh, nothing to write home about,” he assured, ruffling up your hair like you two were childhood best friends. “Well, I guess if you are really dying to know. Someone important wants you dead. So I guess you could say, I, being one of if not the most popular hitmen on the black market, was hired to.. Uh, what’s the word, kill you! Yeahhhh, that sounds about right.”

“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself. “All my life, I can’t think of a single thing I did that could possibly warrant this, I mean.. why me?”

“Oh how tragic,” Wade remarked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear while a tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “I mean, who in their right mind would want to kill someone like you? You are the literal picture perfect definition of the girl next door who wouldn’t hurt a flea. It would take a psychopath to even dream of such a thing!”

You glared at him while he carried on his little performance. “Don’t mock me.”

“Oh.” Deadpool stopped mid-sentence as he lifted up your chin with the tip of his index finger. “So it’s going to be like that, then.”

He leaned back slowly, only to gingerly remove his pistol from its holster. 

“Tell me, Y/N..” he whispered softly. “Have you ever held a gun before?”

“I.. no..” you replied, gasping as he pressed the cold barrel against your cheek. 

“Would you say you’ve ever, oh I don’t know, felt it on your skin?” he teased, dragging it across your neck and collarbone. He took notice of how you swallowed the lump in your throat nervously, and the way your lip quivered ever so slightly. 

“Or what about in your mouth..” his voice suddenly took a dark turn as he shoved the front of the handgun in between your lips, forcing it into the back of your throat. 

You felt your blood run cold. At first, it all felt like some sort of a game. Like one sick, twisted joke. But now, it suddenly became real. 

Wade was absolutely giddy, watching your soft, plump lips part open and accept the icy metal. He liked seeing how your pink tongue was forced still and how you squirmed like a helpless animal he had total control over. And the adorable little noises you made when your mouth was full. It delighted him in a way even he couldn’t explain. 

“Would you say you’ve ever.. choked on one?” he said, barely being able to contain his laughter. Without another word, he pushed the pistol even deeper, causing it to squeeze against your uvula, eliciting your gag reflex. 

“Whghnnn..” you muffled out, trying your best to mentally distance yourself as far away from this entire ordeal as possible. Your mind was racing at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You were trying to formulate a plan, something, anything to have him show you mercy. 

“Wow, you really are so good at this,” Wade mumbled, not relenting at all as he continued to shove the gun further down your throat. “Definitely better than I thought. Hey, do you like practice or something? Because God, you are a natural! If I weren’t about to kill you right now, I’d hire you on the spot.”

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo. 

Realizing he wasn’t getting any further reaction from you, Deadpool slowly removed the pistol from your lips, watching with glee as a string of saliva connected your tongue from the tip of the barrel. 

He then proceeded to drag the side of the handgun across your chest, over your bare stomach, and finally, resting on the waistband of your skirt. 

“So.. Y/N was it?” Deadpool rambled on, as he played with the pleats of your skirt with his free hand. “Right. You know, I would say I don’t have a lot of weaknesses in this world, wouldn’t you agree? So anyways, after I got mutated and all fucked up from that bastard Francis and became who I am now, there’s very little out there that truly phases me these days. But this..”

He gestured towards your pastel pink miniskirt. “This is something else.” 

And with that, he gently lifted up the cloth with the front of his gun to reveal your lacy magenta underwear.

“A thong! Boooold,” he commented, pressing the cold metal of the barrel right up against your labia. “I was wondering if you were wearing something underneath, and this answers the question. God, that’s hot. You know what’s hotter, though? One of my best friends, Logan. There’s just something so je ne sais quoi about that beautiful man. Anyways.”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly, a wave of goosebumps cascaded over your skin, and it was like the world just stopped making sense. Why did this suddenly feel sort of.. good? Minus the incessant yapping and endless sidetracked one-sided conversation, you wanted more. More of whatever this was. 

And Wade granted your wish. He pulled the fabric of your thong to the side with his other hand and gently prodded your clit with the tip of his pistol. 

He was taken aback when you moaned softly at the sensation. 

“Oh?” he said as he raised an eyebrow.

He pressed the gun even harder onto your pink pearl, eliciting another sigh. 

“Huh. Color me impressed,” he muttered. “This entire time I thought you were fighting for your life but you are actually enjoying this? You dirty little slut! And here I thought you were prim proper little miss perfect..”

“Why.. why are you stopping?” you breathed, a splash of pink brightening up your cheeks, causing him even more of a surprise. “Just keep.. Keep going.”

And to his own dismay, he obliged. 

“How would you feel if I did this?” Wade asked, but before you could even react, he had already shoved the barrel of the gun deep into your cunt. 

You tossed your head back in response, moaning helplessly as he pushed the pistol in and out of your swollen pussy.

“Ah, ah~” you cried out, instinctively spreading your legs open to allow him even more access.

“Now that’s a good girl!” he encouraged, taking note of your subtle invitation and pushing it even harder and deeper than he did before. “Wow. You know, this has been truly enlightening, Y/N. I never in a million years would have guessed you of all people would turn out to be a freak! And you, my friend, are the freakiest of the freaks.”

“I-I am not!” you protested, gasping as you felt the cold steel pushing heartlessly against your walls. “I like normal things too.”

“Uh huh,” Wade said as he continued to fuck your insides relentlessly with his gun. “And I am a three-headed sabertooth tiger named Richard. See? We can all tell lies to ourselves! It’s fun.” 

You could feel yourself practically melting into his hands, your soul floating into the ceiling until you heard it. The click. 

“Well, it has been real Y/N,” Deadpool sighed, his index finger resting comfortably on the trigger. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell had the time of my life! Shit, if we didn’t meet under these circumstances, we absolutely would have hit it off in another reality. As in, I would have fucked you in a multitude of positions in a variety of exotic outdoor locations! Unfortunately, however, the fun and games have to come to an end somehow. I mean, wouldn’t you agree?”

You felt as if your heart was about to both break and jump out of your chest simultaneously. 

“B-but..” you tried to reason with him. Not that it was any use, of course. “I really liked this..”

“I know, babe,” Wade cooed, his free hand snaking up and gripping around your throat tightly. “But if I don’t kill you now, I probably never will because you are just too cute. And sometimes I just can’t help myself but make stupid decisions.”

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, looking up at him. 

Wade was just about to pull the trigger until you caught his eye.

“Aw, FUCK!” he shouted, immediately removing the gun from your dripping snatch. “Don’t.. don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you inquired innocently, tilting your head to the side. 

“That!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards your face. “Looking up at me with those big, stupid adorable eyes. You know I can’t help myself when you do that.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you shrugged. “Besides, I thought you had already made up your mind. You sounded pretty sure of yourself after all.”

“You know, you really are a little shit, you know that?” Deadpool fired back, placing his hands on his hips. “God, and this was supposed to be sexy and dangerous, but you totally ruined the atmosphere.”

You smiled to yourself, self-assured in your victory. “Well, does that mean you are going to let me go?”

“Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself,” Wade responded, untying your ropes and smacking you on the ass as you stood up. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Before you walked out of the warehouse, you stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek over his mask. “Thank you.”

“Go, GO!” he yelled, pushing you towards the exit of the dingy building. “And don’t come back.”

And as soon as you came, you were free. The moonlight poured through the cracks of the tree branches outside and lit up your face. The door slammed behind you in a dramatic fashion. And with that, you finally felt yourself settling into another moment of peace. 

[thevibraniumveterans]

I have THOUGHTS about… ahem… the “Thunderbolts*”…

SPOILER ALERT!!!

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT…

LAST WARNING!

I’ve just watched the film this evening and I have so many thoughts off the top of my head and in no particular order

Valentina, you SCHEMING little shit, I KNEW something was up! That was insane.

Movie was big on mental health, for sure.

I previously thought we’d see Bucky going up against himself, but I was wrong; why would he ever need to do that? The MCU was his process and we’ve been watching him absolutely go through it.

And speaking of going through it, Bob and his room reminded me of Moon Knight, what with the abusive parents and whatnot, him being in the safest room he can be in, surrounded by toys.

And speaking of rooms. Yelena’s scenes around the Red Room situations, oof, that must’ve been really hard on her, that she could not change anything, that it would keep happening.

The whole you-don’t-have-to-do-this-alone aspect of the film was so well made, and that one scene near the end, the group hug, heartwarming. Very emotional scene. Loved it.

Very nearly upstaged by the previous scenes where Bucky, Walker, Ava, Yelena, and Alexei stopped that stone slab from hitting the ground, saving civilians

Alexei was hilarious throughout the whole movie, awesome at that

HOLY SHIT THE NEW AVENGERS??? I’ll get back to that in a bit but OMG.

The thing about Bob punching his own dark reflection and almost becoming what he feared the most was just… so so well done, that even when he was being mocked, he found the strength to get up and fight back, inspiring the others to get up and fight back too, and fight back together

Taskmaster? Yeah, we knew she was toast within the first 20 minutes but not how, now we know that Val had sent Taskmaster to kill Walker to kill Yelena to kill Ghost

That was one hell of an introduction though

And speaking of introductions, I gotta say something about the post-credits scene. First off, those new outfits are really cool; Walker getting a beret?? BUCKY GETTING A NEW OUTFIT AND A STAR OVER HIS RIGHT ARM?? I love that it’s navy blue now. AND THE FANTASTIC FOUR SHIP?? We know F4 is right around the corner this summer; I’m guessing that in the mid- and/or post-credits scene(s) of that movie we’ll have the F4 interact with the New Avengers before DOOMSDAY

And speaking of the New Avengers! That was Val’s whole setup! She had to get all shady and morally grey and villainy-like, trying to get her potential Avengers members to kill each other in some kind of wretched test to see how’d they fare against each other.

And oh right, BUCKY SAID SAM ISN’T HAPPY about the New Avengers; remember in CABNW Sam said that Ross told him to form a new team? What kind of beef is Val having with whoever is the president now? I mean it’s not like Bucky put together a team, it was just convenient that four of them were in the same car. But think about it, in the Doomsday lineup video, Anthony Mackie was third and Sebastian fourth, so the fact that they’re really high up on the roster and right next to each other tells me that Sam may be mad an Avengers team has been formed and there was nothing he could do about it

And like, it’s 2027 in the MCU now, right? The movie ends like 14 months later so now it’s freakin’ 2028 in the MCU now.

Bob is a cool person, I think, Sentry was the midpoint between Bob and the Void, and Bob doesn’t want to become the Sentry due to how he’d also become the Void - this avoidance is kinda like how Banner didn’t want to become Hulk but then reconciled. I like Bob’s dynamic with Yelena.

The whole metaphor of walking into the void is like choosing to confront your shame, your darkness, the things you think you don’t deserve sympathy for, but then again the whole point of Yelena, Bucky, Walker, and Ava coming together to group hug Bob was just so good.

It’s hilarious that Val didn’t just go “I’m putting together a team”, she went “Imma send these misfits to kill each other, send my latest project to kill them, ALL IN THE GUISE OF HOPING THEY ALL TEAM THE EFF UP but I can’t tell anyone that until the events I put into motion cause them to save the city and become the heroes I always knew they were” and honestly? What the hell, Valentina?! 🤣 You played them, you played us, well effing done, loved it, 15/10 no notes.

Bucky with the good hair! 🤩

Oh and the mid-credits artwork referencing famous historical promo, the Yelena “We can do it” poster referencing the WWII Rosie the Riveter propaganda, the team shot referencing the “Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima” photo

And part of the artwork also being in-universe headlines of people not exactly loving the New Avengers

And the classic Avengers theme song as the undercurrent for the main theme of this movie!

I may have other points but I’ll save them for later, I think??

[seleneprince]

When it comes to neglected readers/ocs fics, it's always about the batfam, or even the superfamily. but recently i've been thinking of another idea

Because if those families can have neglected readers, where does it say the rest of the superheroes can't be the same? Specially as yanderes?

i love the aus where the JL has kids around the same age and they know each other or even form a group together similar to their parents and stuff (i blame @fancyfeathers and their amazing yandere au ideas for this. Go check their blog, their latest work Burn it Down it's awesome and the biggest inspiration for this), so hear me out: An au with JL's kids where it consists on neglected readers/ocs. Except, unlike their heroic fathers, most of these kids have been raised by morally questionable people and followed that path to fill the void of the neglect.

Imagine Oliver Queen's son, who similar to Bruce's, was born out of a relationship between Oliver and a woman he spent some nights with. She was a mercenary going undercover, who happened to meet Mr Queen and agreed to go on some dates with him to keep up the facade, but unfortunately, the rich asshole happens to be very charming when he wants to be...just like that cursed black canary of his. She gave in, against her best instincts, and by the time she realised what she got herself into, she was staring at a positive test in an hotel's bathroom. She chose to keep him at first, raising him alone and away from Oliver and Dinah, believing the man was unfit to be a proper father (and fearful the pregnancy would shackle her to them). She trained the boy and taught him everything she knew, but also kept him separated from her job...until she couldn't. Things got too dangerous and one day, she was killed. Her body was never found. He was going to move in with some of her mum's friends , but then he received an unexpected visit: Mr Oliver Queen. Apparently, the mum reached out to the man a while ago to let him know of his son's existence, and since his potential foster family were essentially criminals like her mum, it was decided he was to live with his father instead. The boy is taken to the Queen's household, but as all stories go, his dad never has time for him and his stepmother is, well, she's not rude but she's busy as well and it's messy. He has his little brother, Connor, and he's expected to be his caretaker when their parents are out, and as much as he loves his brother, he low-key resents this role imposed on him. His main comfort is sneaking out to visit his other family, who are basically a bunch of other mercenaries that act like his uncles, aunties and cousins, who keep encouraging him to follow his mother's footsteps. And there's the thing that, well, Oliver's son doesn't really believe his mum died. He suspects she faked it to hide from enemies and protect him, and he's determined to find her. After all, she's the only parent he feels that has ever loved him.

He and Bruce's daughter know each other since childhood, due to being both introduced to high society around the same time and having the same age. They're not best friends, but they share a mutual understanding and keep in contact from their respective cities. They're usually glued to the hip in events where both families are invited because they're the only people who they don't have to pretend or put on a mask with. They also talk shit about their fathers together over glasses of wine and complain about their family.

Imagine Hal Jordan's daughter, whom he conceived with an enemy of his, non other than a Yellow Lantern. Obviously, this affair was doomed from the start and, one day, she vanished. Leaving no trace of her, as if the galaxy had somehow swallowed her. Not even Hal couldn't find her, leading him to believe she was really dead. In truth, the woman gave up on her yellow lantern duties for the pregnancy and tried to lead a normal life. Out of spite and paranoia, the woman refused to tell Hal about their child, raising her as a single mother and doing everything in her power to hide her parentage from her. Also, because she earned quite some enemies during her time as a yellow lantern, and wanted her daughter to remain unknown so she wasn't targeted. However, the woman missed the power, the freedom to fly around the vast space and the adrenaline of instilling fear in others, so eventually, when Sinestro contacts her, she agrees to take the yellow ring again, but with that choice, it comes a raging fear (ironic, isn't it?): Her daughter won't be safe if she stays with her. And bringing her along isn't an option either, Sinestro made it clear. That lifestyle isn't suited for kids. So she makes a hard decision: Leave her at her father's doorstep to stay with him while she's out with the Sinestro corps, along with a letter revealing that she's his child but not who the mum is. Given his record, he assumes it was one of his one-night stands and doesn't suspect the truth at all...not initially. He tries to be a good dad, he really does. He's a good uncle, so he can definitely be a good parent, right? But being an uncle isn't the same as being a parent, obviously, and with his constant responsabilities as both Green lantern and pilot he's constantly out of the house, leaving her with his brother's family. He's awkward about it, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do with a surprise child, how he's supposed to act or feel. He's lost, and shamefully, sometimes relieved to leave her with his brother so he doesn't have to handle that task. Meanwhile, the girl is still in contact with her mum and they meet when the woman swings by to Earth, having some nice mother-daughter bonding until she has to leave again. The topic of Hal is still taboo, so they act like he doesn't exist. She loves her mum, truly, but can't fight the crippling loneliness when she realises both her parents chose their duties over her again and again. She won't admit it, ever, but deep down, she also craves for her dad's affection. She knows her mum wouldn't approve, but don't all kids need their father's love at some point? She sees him with her cousin Helen and wants the same wants it so badly she could cry, but he doesn't look at her the same way and sometimes it feels there's something wrong with her. As she grows, she learns to fight the insecurities with adrenaline, throwing herself into dangerous situations, like illegal car races, and overall breaking the law for the fun of it. She's scared every time, but after all, like her mum always taught her, fear is power. And having others fear you too? It's even sweeter.

She and Bruce's daughter have an intense love-hate relationship, leaning towards hatred but also reluctant respect. They have, unknowingly, inherited their fathers' beef and throw shit at each other by instinct. I see them having met as kids too, and that's where the beef started. It never stopped. But they just can't connect with anyone else the way they do. They speak in insults and mocks, or are silently judging people together. There's no in-between.

Imagine Barry Allen's daughter, who came to exist after a one-night with a fellow forensic scientist before he ended up with Iris. They cut off contact after she went to work in another lab, but just a month later she finds out she's pregnant. She debated whether to tell Barry or not, but since she didn't have the resources to raise her alone, she ultimately told him and, after some very awkward and tense talk, he agreed to be part of her life and help them, sharing custody and all. She has criminal ties (maybe Captain Cold is her uncle or sum), so Barry's daughter grows up with slight anti-Flash propaganda in her mum's house, which feels weird to her because everyone she knows loves Flash. At first, Barry is a decent dad and does his best to be there for her even when his job keeps him away a lot. He makes time for her, they do stuff together and they have fun. He even argues sometimes with his mum to keep her work him longer than they agreed to. But all changes when he marries Iris. Now, the woman is never anything but polite with her, but it's made abundantly clear from the start that she already has a mum and Iris has no intention of taking that role anyway. Suddenly Barry is cutting his time off with the girl to go on dates with Iris, which, okay, it might be understandable, he has the right to fall in love and all and she already has her mum to be with. But she misses her dad too. But she doesn't want to come off as an entitled brat. But she's just a little girl yet who feels like she's losing her dad even though he's still there. And then, Iris gets pregnant. Barry is over the moon and kinda forgets he already has a child. Everything becomes about the incoming babies. All the conversation revolves around them. Getting her dad alone becomes impossible, and he doesn't make time for her anymore. Doesn't argue with mum to keep her with him longer. She's not a priority anymore. And godamn it hurts. Hurts like a bitch. Hurts more than anything she's ever felt. Not even her mum can console her. With time, it feels obvious to her Barry is not going to be invested in her life anymore. Not when he just started a family with a woman he truly loves and with kids he actually planned for. But fear not, because if her dad isn't interested in her, she has her mum and her side of the family, who love her as well. And she learns a lot about chemistry from her mum, enough to help her with the family's secret and not-so-legal work. But when she's running to get the morning bus for school and in a blurry second finds herself in another state, her body vibrating with something unknown, that's when the real problems start...

I see her being best friends with Hal's daughter, simply because it's written in the stars that for every speedster there's a Lantern with them and they have to be besties, so the girls are too. Every Flash comes with a Lantern as a pack. She's also good friends with Oliver's son..but maybe she wants to be more.

Imagine Zatara's son, younger than Zatanna, born from his second wife. When Zatanna was a teenager, he found love again and remarried with a woman who knew all of his bussiness with the Justice League and had a child, whom from an early age he initiated in the art of magic. However, there's something different about the boy. Something that sets him apart entirely from his father and sister. He doesn't have their proefficiency towards magic. He seems to get hurt by it, and also gets sick easily, which makes him unfit to become a wizard. Instead, he's seemingly made for a completely normal life with the bonus of having to stay in bed more often than he'd like due to his poor health. This pushes Zatara to focus a bit more on Zatanna, who still doesn't fully control her own magic, and leave his son to be mostly in his civilian mum's hands. The boy grows up feeling lonely and frustrated with his own body for being wrong, because he can feel something wrong just doesn't know what it is. It pulses inside him when he's near certain parts of the house and almost hurts when his dad or his sister cast spells near him. There's also the fact that when his emotions run high, sometimes windows are shattered and furniture slashed around him. He gets told its because of the remnants of magic his family leaves behind and respond to emotions, that it has nothing to do with him personally. But for some reason, it's usually after those incidents when he falls sick and isn't allowed to get out of bed. It's only years later, with secret research on his own and reaching out to certain people, that he finds out the truth. About why he can't fit with his dad and sister, why he can't do magic the way they do and why he's in pain a lot at convenient times: He's a wizard of chaos, like Klarion. And someone put a block on his powers "to protect him". Now, he's just determined to prove not all wizards of chaos are inherently bad (and maybe prove to himself that he can be as good as his family if not better)

Clark Kent's daughter, older than Jon, who was apparently born as a complete human like her mum and showed no signs of kriptonian powers, like her brother. Because of this, much like Zatara did, her dad focused on training Jon and teaching him everything while his daughter watched from the sidelines, feeling displaced and lonely because of it. Add to that that because of her seemingly human nature, Clark sees her as fragile and takes a sometimes overprotective stance that only suffocates her further. She's the oldest, the one expected to take care of the family and the house, yet she has to hear him tell Jon is his duty to protect her and make sure they're all alright. Just because she doesn't have heat vision doesn't mean she's helpless! She's not good enough to hang out with them or defend herself, but she is to stay put at home like a little housewife? Like her mum is stuck to? She refuses. And she loves her family, she really does despite all, but the bitterness is sore. She craves to get out of Kansas, this small farm with the same damn routine every day, and go see the world. Experience new things, have fun, feel like a girl her age for once. She thinks that's the most she can aspire to...until one day, after an argument with her dad, she storms out of the house and punches a tree out of sheer frustration....only to watch in shock how the tree is ripped away from its root and lays torn apart in the ground, with a big ass dent where her fist slammed against to...opsies.

In the ultimate act of rebellion, she would apply for a Lexcorp's internship as a school project, believing it won't work anyway because in paper, she's just a journalist's daughter living in a farm. But for some reason, she gets the internship, and Luthor seems personally invested in her career choice..

I know it's cliche as hell but i really just want to add a group of JL's neglected children that band together out of spite to fight their daddy issues by being absolute menaces to society with very questionable morals (and the ocassional "accidental" murder ofc)

[pedgito]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 — one: beginnings | Joel Miller x reader

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chapter summary | You're dead weight, a burden on Joel's shoulders after the death of his daughter and the collapse of the world. But, if there's one person to challenge him, it was you.

author's note | this spurred from jo (@undercoverpena) and i, a conversation over kinks and wanting to explore them in separate chapters but somehow create a cohesive story and here we are. she spun for me and gave me a collection of beautiful kinks to try out. this is going to be BIG one for me, so if you plan on staying along for this ride, i love you so much.

chapter warnings | 18+, early outbreak, age gap (early 20s, mid 30s), canon character de*th, canon typical violence, m*rder tw, morally grey!joel with trust issues, tommy is buffer, use of weapons, weapon training, unjust decision making, reader is such a nuisance to joel, sex as a distraction, joel is so emotionally stunted he can't help it, awkward aftercare

word count —6k

SERIES MASTERLIST, PLAYLIST, AO3

You’ve never seen so much blood.

His shirt was soaked to his neck, expression blank and void as Tommy rounded the truck to open the door—it wasn’t the same one you’ve seen pull into their driveway for years now. It was new, unfamiliar. Joel’s weighed down, his arms straining as he heaves whatever he’s holding up in his arms, finally coming from around the door and into view. Her curls fell first, body limp in Joel’s arm as he held her close–it was Sarah. Little Sarah who you would babysit in high school for extra cash when the Miller brothers had to work a few extra jobs to pay the bills, little Sarah who always had the biggest smile on her face. Not so little anymore, years gone and passed as you graduated and went off to work some dead-end job to stay afloat in hopes that you could attempt to pay a college tuition.

But, that all seemed futile now. 

It was late September when the world ended—Joel’s birthday, you’d know that from the fact Sarah had mentioned it to you that morning as she checked the mail that Joel had forgotten from the day before. A normal day for you, for everyone else. But, for Sarah and many others, it was their last.

The neighborhood was quiet now, the hoard of freshly turned infected heading for the inner city and toward the noise, like one singular hivemind following a predetermined path. 

And your parents—they weren’t even here. They had left for vacation a week prior, spending the next two weeks out of the country, celebrating their anniversary far away from responsibility and the barrage of news from all over the world. But, they would come back to nothing. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t wait around—it would get you killed; starvation, lack of resources, it would only get you so far. 

The infection was worldwide, incurable—it was the last thing you heard before the satellite on your television cut out, snuffing out any last bit of hope you had left.

In the midst of Joel’s mindless walk to the front door of his home, Tommy glances over his shoulder to survey, likely for more infected. But, he spots you.

His eyes squint slightly, like he’s seeing a vision of you. They widen as he realizes you’re real, you here—you were shaking, arms crossed over your chest and your fingers digging into your biceps as you hid by the shadow of your door.

Tommy knows that look, your eyes go wide but soften as he approaches. 

You can’t say you’ve held a conversation longer than five minutes with either of them, even after living next to them most of your life, but his hands are held up as he approaches and carefully, almost as if you were going to scurry away like a feral cat.

“You alright, honey?” His voice is quiet, a hushed whisper as he comes closer and stops a few inches, peering inside of your house and finding it empty, “Are they—did they—”

He looks over at you wearily and your fingers dig into your skin, peering over his shoulder and staring at the open door, Joel no longer in sight, “They left on a trip and I—I don’t,” You sigh through your nose, closing your eyes to blink away the stinging tears, “They’re dead either way, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t answer, but his hand reaches around to rub at your back and you fall into him easily.

“Sarah–” Tommy tenses up, pulling away slowly to look at you as you peer up at him, noticing the near permanent frown on your face, your expression unchanging as you attempt to process and fail—it wasn’t fair, none of it made sense, “is she dead?”

The sound of something fragile falling and breaking in Joel’s house startles you both, sending you both apart and rushing toward the house without thinking. The idea of being alone now was more fearful than anything else—no survival instinct, no plan or method to stay alive. You’d be dead by next nightfall if you stuck around though, that much you knew.

The sight sends your heart into your stomach. Joel was hunched over Sarah’s lifeless body, his arms sticky with blood—some of it dried and some of it not. There were a few broken picture frames on the floor at Sarah’s feet and you felt your breath catching in your throat, watching as Joel brushed her hair from her face and cried, silently.

“Joel,” Tommy begins, slow and careful, “we’ve gotta figure out a plan.”

“We’re buryin’ her first,” Joel tells him, “not leavin’ her like this.”

Tommy nods in understanding, looking over at you briefly.

“Listen, Joel…”

“She ain’t our problem, Tommy.” He bites harshly, resting Sarah down gently as he rose from his knees, “Kid’s got her own family.”

“Joel,” Tommy stresses, motioning toward you subtly—Joel looks reluctantly and he can see the fear, practically smelling it on you—it’s the last thing he needs right now, “they’re gone—can’t leave her here.”

“We can.”

“We won’t.”

You take a few careful steps back, quiet and timid, away from the brothers.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy moves in, blocking his brother’s face from view as you lingered near the open front door, staring out toward the street as you couldn’t bare the sight of Sarah’s body laying a few feet to your right, “she used to babysit Sarah—helped you out in a pinch a hundred times. I understand this—”

“This is my daughter—”

“She’s my niece too, goddammit—don’t try and spin this, Joel.” Tommy rocks on his heels, hands hugging his hips as his shoulders stretch out, broad and wide, “We bury her, we get our shit and we go–I’m not losing you, too. I will drag your ass out of here if I have to.”

There’s a sliver of Joel’s face that comes into view as he peers over Tommy’s shoulder at you, eyes dragging over you carefully before he returns to Tommy, “She’s ain’t worth the trouble.”

He’s completely tossing aside the fact that you were an adult, young but still—you sigh shakily, “I can carry my own weight, you know?”

He’s stoic, a long stretch of silence as Tommy stares him down, lingering and waiting for Joel to come to his senses, but even when he does—it’s forced.

“Then start loading the truck,” Joel tells you, “anything—food, water—”

“Yeah, I got it.” You respond in a pinched tone, trying to stifle your own emotions.

Joel doesn’t argue further, picking up Sarah with a sudden gentleness that returns at the sight of his daughter while Tommy disappears to the attached garage and you linger for a brief moment as Joel admires her, knowing that this was all he had. Knowing that eventually even this memory would fade over time.

His guard softens as he looks at her and you find that was the right time to speak more candidly.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” You tell him, your voice quiet as you approach and he looks at you briefly, acknowledging with a nod as you move beyond him and toward the kitchen, “she’s a sweet kid.”

His voice breaks but barely wavers, a subtle sign of emotion that he was suppressing deep down.

“She was.”

His departure after that is quiet, meeting Tommy at the backdoor as he reentered from the garage with the shovels and blanket in hand, a sorrowful look on his face that furrowed his brow.

They both worked silently in the backyard while you loaded up what you could. Their house was mostly scarce, knowing Joel was probably creeping up on a shopping day that would never come. There’s a few canned goods you manage to scavenge along with a decently untouched pack of water bottles and while you couldn’t brave the other houses in fear that something else might be lingering, you gather what you can from your own. 

By the time you’re closing up the truck bed they’re both walking toward you, a gun tucked away in both of their waistbands and a rifle in Joel’s free hand—his arms were cleaner, albeit still dirty.

He’d changed, rid himself of the bloody clothes and brushed past you silently, his eyes dark and empty. 

Tommy stops at your feet, offering up a knife sheathed in a leather casing that you could attach to your jeans, “Ain’t got another gun, but it’s somethin’.”

You nod slightly and take it from his grip, “Thank you,” You tell him, turning to find Joel waiting with the door open, expecting that you would climb into the middle as there was nowhere for you to go, unless the truck bed seemed like the better option—it didn’t.

It was blind trust, putting your life in the hands of both brothers. 

But, you had no choice. All that mattered was living.

—

And for Joel, the cost didn’t matter.

It’s jarring, frightening. His emotions are like a light switch—when on, he’s calm and able to hold small talk, but even that was forced and uneasy. But, when your supply dwindles down after a week or so of driving and camping in the deep brush of forest, you find what the light switch is like when it’s off.

It was a stranger, a helpless guy alone and clearly on the verge of death. All of you were on edge, the dwindling September heat still lingered into October and you had blew through your last bottle of water the night before, sweat dampening your clothes as you sifted through the aisles of the convenience store that was bare bones and empty by now but you were hoping, praying—but then you hear it and to Joel, it was prey. 

He yanks your knife from where it’s secured at your waist, so quick you barely even feel the tug as he carefully steps around the corner toward the counter, finding an older gentleman with feeble hands and energy that was dying out by the second. He was starving, dehydrated. But, so were you. And so was Joel.

“Joel, don’t.” You speak from behind him, “There’s another store in town. It’s bigger.”

“Hand it over,” Joel demands, the knife tucked away in his right hand behind his back as he held out his left, beckoning with his fingers as the man stared on, bottom lip trembling in fear as he squeezed at the plastic bottle, “now.”

There’s a moment of hesitation where the man begins to speak, shaking his head, but Joel is on him before he gets the chance, shoving the knife through the center of his throat—quick, quiet, efficient. You sigh deeply, knowing it was already coming. Joel wipes the blood away on the now dead man’s pants and snatches up the water bottle before he’s shoving it into your chest and sliding the knife back into the holster.

“You killed him,” Joel looks at you torsely, eyes half-lidded as he waits for you to continue, “you—you didn’t have to kill him, Joel.”

“You’re welcome,” He answers with finality, “Tommy’s waiting’, let’s go.”

You glance at the dead body with a grimace, the weight of it pulling down as the man slumped to the floor and his blood pooled closer and closer toward you. You step back quickly and follow after Joel who’s already ringing the bells on the door above the entrance.

“That was quick—no trouble?” Tommy asks when you return to the truck, climbing over Joel’s lap as he refuses to move, digging your knee into his thigh out of annoyance.

He takes it in stride, though. Doesn’t even react.

“No,” You lie easily, “Last one, though.”

You’ve learned to not speak on it—Joel’s quick tendencies for anger and bruteness. Hell, most of the time you could just ignore it, like now. Arguing never worked, Joel didn’t care enough.

Besides, you were just a waste of resources. Joel said it so often that it echoed in the back of your mind every time he slashed, stabbed, or gutted someone for something you needed, or wanted.

It started in small glimpses, you or Tommy could say a word, make a noise, and Joel’s brow would pinch together and the scowl on his face would deepen. 

And Tommy was objectively selfless, which bothered Joel more than it should—but given how things were, it made sense. Good karma wasn’t going to do anything for your conscience in a world that was based on self-preservation. In Joel’s mind, it was kill or be killed. And he always killed first. He learned not to take chances, hold out on good faith. It didn’t exist anymore.

And he didn’t just attack on his own behalf—he’s done it for you on a few occasions. You’ve never killed an infected, Joel always got the first hit in. Your knife would be at the ready, shaky in your grip and he would look over at you with dismay, knowing that if you did manage to have a shot you would ultimately miss. So, instead of coaching, he yanks the knife from your grip and plunges it into the skull of the infected. 

He hides his tendencies from Tommy well for a while—you always sensed Joel’s underlying itch for conflict after Sarah’s ultimate death and the few weeks you spend together on the road. You didn’t stay anywhere longer than a couple days, different cities throughout Texas as you made your way upstate. Utah, Boston, Pittsburg. Anywhere but here.

The early mornings in the forest after an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement—no rain meant sleeping in the bed of the truck or setting up camp in the one tent you had to share. But, when it did, the three of you would be forced to hunker down inside the four feet of truck cabin with nowhere to angle yourself but one of the brothers. Joel almost always shrugged you away, so by default, Tommy was the one you always chose. He didn’t seem to mind, thankfully.

Regardless, early mornings usually meant that Tommy would take his time teaching you a few things while Joel slept heavy in the truck, the low rumble of his snore heard as you both paused and Tommy readjusted the position of the knife in your grip.

“If you’re gonna hold it the way you gotta keep the dull side close to your arm,” He tightens your fist around the handle, “that way you ain’t accidentally cutting yourself with your own blade.”

You nod, squeezing down on your grip until it feels comfortable and Tommy leads your hand back toward you before guiding it through and back towards him slowly, “Always aim for the head on infected—right to the brain, kills ‘em instantly.”

You already knew that, but the reiterating is a nice reminder. 

Everything had a weakness.

“People,” Tommy starts hesitantly, “I mean, they’re livin’ and breathin’—if you let them close enough anywhere is gonna hurt them, but try to aim for the neck or the face.”

The stark image of Joel forcing the knife through the center of the man’s throat is heavy on your mind and Tommy pats on your arm as you lower it, but your eyes focus on his waist.

“Can you teach me how to shoot?”

Tommy looks at you wearily—not because he doesn’t trust you, but there’s something there.

“What happens if one of you is in trouble?” You ask him, pressing on the issue. “And I’m the only one who can do anything? I don’t even know how to shoot a gun. I’m not asking for everything, just enough to know. Tommy, come on.”

Tommy sighs, scratching at his slightly grown-out facial hair. It wasn’t nearly as thick as Joel’s, but it was clear you had all been deprived of basic hygiene over the last several weeks.

“Alright,” He relents, but holds up a finger at you, “Just the basics, for now.”

“I mean, Joel’s planning to drop me off at the nearest QZ anyways,” You joke, shoving your knife into the casing at your waist as Tommy pulls the gun out of where it’s tucked into the back of his jeans, “might as well learn as much as I can before then.”

“He won’t,” Tommy assures you, “we’re not abandoning you like that.”

You didn’t agree, but you push the words back down and take the gun that Tommy is offering as he comes to your side, arms coming around your back and around you. He’s positioning your fingers alongside his own and speaking over your shoulder and neither of you hear the car door that opens over your shoulder.

Within seconds the gun is being yanked from your grip and into Joel’s, his fingers dangling through the loop of the trigger and his eyes locked on his brother, “You lost your damn mind?”

Tommy snatches the gun back from his brother, tucking it away into his waistband.

“She’s got just as much reason to learn,” Tommy argues, “—I don’t see you makin’ an effort to teach her anything.”

“It’s not my problem,” Joel says dismissively, “we’re better off just doing the work ourselves. Kid can’t even kill an infected, she’s not gonna save your ass in a gunfight, either.”

The frustration in you boils, simmering over the edge as you push through both of them and toward the truck, closing the door with a slam as their angered voices muffle into the cabin of the truck.

“She’s not our problem, Tommy,” Joel tells him, “the sooner you realize that the better.”

“That why you plan on droppin’ her off on the doorstep of the first QZ we stumble into?”

There’s a long beat of silence before Joel speaks, “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Tommy answers, his voice laced with smugness that even you could hear, “she’s already got it set in her mind that you will and you know what—don’t blame her, either.”

Eventually, the argument settles. It’s abrupt and both of them sandwich next to you in silence as Tommy follows the path back to the road, his fingers drumming quietly against the steering wheel. But, you can feel the charge of Joel’s frustration as his fingers twist around each other. You tune it out eventually, the silence drowned out by the low hum of a cassette tape that was playing a song you had heard a thousand times by now.

You knew your own weakness was hope and it was dwindling every day.

-

By Denver, you’re all irritable. Eleven hours cramped in a truck on days of very little sleep and small scraps of meals you’ve made stretch for weeks. All the tension, arguing, and frustrations comes to a head when you stumble upon an abandoned cabin on the outskirts of town, close to the mountains and secluded. It was perfect. 

There was a large, brushy forest to hunt and it was right beside a stream. You knew it was better than nothing and that the three of you could make it work for a time—the only problem, it was already occupied.

“Stay in the truck,” Joel orders to you, cocking his gun in his lap before he’s stuffing it back into his jeans and nodding at Tommy to follow. You almost expect him to argue, but he doesn’t. He follows, like a dutiful little brother as they both stalk toward the cabin calmly.

It was one car, clearly hot-wired and stolen alongside its broken windows.

It was clear that whoever was in the cabin wasn’t the original owners either, spotting the pile of dead infected burned to a crisp beside a stack of logs that you assumed were to keep the fire burning inside the house, watching as the black smoke creeped out of the chimney.

The minutes that pass feel like an hour and you begin to wander if they both decided to keep going, abandon you and try their chances down the stretch of highway without you.

You scoot into the driver’s seat and open the door, stepping out carefully as they muddy ground causes you to slip until you regain traction and as you close the door you hear it—a loud crash, a scuffle, and then Tommy’s voice alongside Joel’s.

You run in without thinking, crashing through the slightly open door to find them both with their arms around the neck of two other men, the strangers your eyes set on are already fading. They claw, scramble for air but they’re losing. Joel slams the butt of his gun into the back of the head of the guy he’s holding before they’re both twisting at their necks in unison, the signifying crack louder than the bodies as they hit the ground.

It isn’t shocking as it should be, having seen so many people on the other end of Joel’s violence—but for Tommy, the guilt of you having to witness that is immediate.

“Kiddo, I’m sorry,” He approaches, his hands out in front of him—he was approaching you the same way he had on outbreak day, timid and careful, “you shouldn’t have had to see that.”

You glance at Joel briefly who’s gun drops to the floor behind him as he heaves the dead man up in his arms and drags him out the back door of the cabin, there’s a subtle shake to his head at Tommy’s words that makes your ears ring, drowning out his profuse apologies.

“It’s us or them, right?”

It cuts off his line of speech and his eyebrows raise slightly, “What?”

“Us or them—I’m always going to choose us, for as long as that is. Joel would too.”

Suddenly he realizes that his justifying is naut as Joel rounds the corner and continues to drag the other body out before he’s joining you both in silence as he rubs his hands against his jacket.

“Alright, uh—I want you both to settle in here, try and make it more homey for the time being. I’m gonna drive into town and see what supplies I can scavenge, should be back by nightfall.”

“I’ll come with you,” Joel adds, but Tommy stops him.

“No,” He tells his brother, a quick shake of his head, “stay here with her, get another fire going.”

And for once, Joel listens to his younger brother. His tongue is poking at his cheek as he looks away with a begrudging annoyance as he stalks toward the fireplace.

“Keep an eye on him,” Tommy whispers to you, “alright?”

You nod and smile at the gentle squeeze to your bicep that Tommy offers as he departs.

When he’s gone, the silence is deafening. Joel’s gun was still on the floor, somehow forgotten by the man who never let anything slip past him, always on guard, always ready to attack.

His back is turned when you pick up the gun, the deafening click making his head turn on a swivel.

-

He’s on you in seconds, standing from his crouched position but you were quicker, stuffing the gun behind your back with a faint smile, taking a few steps away.

“Give it to me,” Joel commands, palm extended in waiting.

“Not like you to leave stuff layin’ around,” you comment jestingly, “I think I’ll keep it for a bit.”

He stalks, heavy footsteps against the hardwood floor as you retreat further and further until you’ve ultimately cornered yourself and Joel lunges for it behind your back but you take the opportunity to sweep under his arm and slip from his grip, dangling the gun from the grip of it with two fingers.

“What? You don’t trust me with it?” you taunt, “Think I’m gonna shoot you, don’t you?”

“I’m not askin’ again,” He charges and despite your quick reflex his hand is on your wrist first, the other coming around your neck as he presses you against the back of an old, dusty couch. It creaks under your weight and sends a cloud of dust up with the movement, “drop it.”

“Say it to my face,” you retort behind a strangled tone, feeling the heavy pressure of his thick fingers around your throat, tilting your chin up at his face where he towers over you, “say it and I’ll go—you won’t see me again, hear from me. I won’t be your responsibility anymore.”

Joel shakes your wrist and squeezes and the gun drops, clattering against the floor but he doesn’t let go, not yet.

“You’ll die out there.”

You squint your eyes in disbelief, a soft laugh bubbling from your chest.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you repeat that to Tommy a million times over the last few months.”

You pull at his grip but find that it only tightens, your fingers clawing at the hand around your throat, his fingers tucked under your jaw as it pulls your chin up and up, nearly touching his chest with how close he is to you now, your feet scrambling slightly underneath your for proper footing as you leaned against the couch. 

You speak again, hoping to crawl under his skin and make him uneasy, bothered.

“What? Sudden change of heart?” you ask, “Suddenly I’m worth protecting? Tommy would love to know about the handful of men you’ve killed in my honor, you know?”

Joel’s face twitches at that, his eyes dragging toward the gun on the floor—that was your window.

You force your knees up and into his stomach, shoving him away as he stumbles but the feeling of his arm coming around your abdomen has you squirming, turning and hitting him with weak, balled up fists that didn’t amount to half the strength he encompassed. It was barely a struggle for him.

Eventually you give up, waiting and waiting for him to let you go. His gaze is heavy, almost curious in the way he watches you go through the stages of resistance to acceptance and then finally giving up before your eyes are peering up at him, pressed against him at every point of contact, the cold metal of his belt buckle digging into your stomach.

“You’re stuck with me and I’m sorry,” you tell him out of desperation, “I just want to learn and you could teach—”

It takes you a second to process when his lips press against yours, a biting kiss that is forceful and startling, gasping into his mouth at the action but your body reacts instinctively, arms wrapping around his neck and hands fisting into his hair, the subtle essence of salt and pepper that was only noticeable this close. Joel groans softly, the first true and honest sound that has come from him all evening.

“Irritating,” Joel speaks against your lips, mumbled as he leads you, bumping your legs against the arm of the couch before you’re both tumbling over, “—do you ever fuckin’ shut up?”

He’s coined you vexatious in his own mind, not realizing how impossible he was to be around either—stubborn, impossible. An unmoving force of rigidness, but here he was—pliable to the fingers that slip under his shirt as he settles between your open legs, his own pulling at the button of your jeans.

You don’t need words, knowing that you both have communicated off eye contact at a level that was never spoken about but just worked. It clicked and when he pushed, you gave into the blow.

Silently you work alongside his own hands, pushing your jeans down and off. You kick them to the floor, working at your underwear while he undoes his own jeans, feeling like you were both working against the clock with your heart hammering in your chest. He was eager, impatient—still Joel, but it was a new look. It was the dynamic that, for you, felt like the missing piece.

Weeks of constant bickering and side-eyed glances all boiling down to one break in his mulish personality, this was the resolve.

The warm touch of his palm against your upper thighs pull your attention to him and he breathes out harshly through his nostrils, his jeans shoved down his thighs and his free hand palming himself over his underwear, squeezing at your skin as he offers only one word in acknowledgement. A question.

“Yeah?”

You nod shakily, answering with a soft, “Yes.”

-

There is no build-up, no gentle touching that leads to soft caresses as Joel presses himself inside of you. His hand is gripping the arm of the couch above your head as he grips himself at the base of his cock before he’s pushing in with one solid jerk of his hips, a hurried and desperate movement to bury himself inside of you. Your fingers pull at the hair by his nape and he grunts, head pulling back as he snapped his hips back and pushed into you again, sharp and angered. His jaw was tense, the subtle peek of teeth bared behind his lips

It’s a harsh disjunction; a man you would watch from your window on weekends as he spent mornings chasing Sarah out in the lawn—softer, happier. Her protector.

With reluctance, he’s become your own. Whether he would admit it aloud or not, he knows. But, it isn’t the same—you were extra baggage, a burden, but one he felt chained too. And more importantly, distraction.

You could see his humanity slipping week by week, a dull shell of himself most days. He won’t even look at you now, his eyes squeezed shut as he thrusts into you, your eyes dragging from his face to his cock, your hand traveling down to fist at his shirt, dragging it up his stomach. 

The dark, coarse hair at the base of his cock traveled up his stomach, across his thighs. Big, strong thighs that held your legs apart and the thickness of him ached, stretched you open after months of unintentional celibacy forcing you to grip him tight, wincing with every continuous snap of his hips, feeling a hand come around to cup the back of your head, cradling it as his forehead drops and presses against your own, blocking your line of sight and forcing your eyes closed. Just feel, he’s trying to convey. Don’t think.

And it works, lingering thoughts fading away as pleasure bleeds in. His top lip grazing against the round part of your nose, his hot breath fanning over your mouth as he huffs and you moan against him, a soft and broken noise that only forces his grip to tighten against the back of your head and the other hand at your thigh, finger digging into the flesh so harshly that the ache would linger for days.

You feel the crest creeping up on you but it isn’t enough, slipping your fingers between your body silently, but the fingers around your wrist startle you, dragging you back to the surface and opening your eyes to his, his expression earnest but stoic.

“Don’t,” He shakes his head, “—just close your eyes, I got it.”

You can’t find the energy inside to argue, feeling the hand cradling your head circle around to the crown of your scalp, fingers digging into the hair and pulling taut, forcing your head back and then he’s touching you, two thick fingers circling your clit in time with his harsh, hurried thrusts.

You do close your eyes, feeling the soft tuft of his hair against the side of your face as buries himself there, his movements jerkier as his fingers work quickly, squeezing around him as your fingers dig into his forearm, hips working against his fingers instinctively to search out more and more until you’re tipping over the cliff and free-falling, coming with a soft gasp as he pulls away suddenly, fisting his cock tightly as he came over your stomach, hastily shoving your shirt out of the way as he grunts quietly, his face pinched and completely unreadable when you do finally find the energy to look at him, eyes dragging toward the ceiling as you breathe and try to process what the fuck just happened.

There’s a distant rip of fabric somewhere to the right of you and far away, noticing that Joel’s already redressed when he approaches and wipes gently at the mess of cum dressed across your stomach, shoving your jeans back into your hand in the same movement. 

You look at him oddly, shuffling the jeans and underwear in your grip as you rise, eyes following as he moved around, started building the fire Tommy had told him about a half hour ago and is so glaringly ignoring what had transpired just now—you move quickly, redressing to avoid the judgment if he looked back and you were still staring.

And you notice the itch, the unavoidable twitch in his shoulders as he can’t settle with his movements, occupying himself to keep running on the clear adrenaline high he was on—he’d killed a man and immediately directed his frustration at you and used it as a means to stall, distract, satiate that monster dwelling inside him that always came out around you.

“So, can I leave now?” You ask him, his eyes peeking over his shoulder as he shoved a new pile of wood into the fireplace, “Are we finished?”

“You’re not leaving,” Joel tells you—you weren’t moving, weren’t planning to, but you wanted to see where the conversation would go, whether Joel would admit that he cared more than he let on, his emotions so stunted since Sarah that they came out in bouts of violence and rage, “I’d never hear the end of it.”

You offer a smug chuckle in response, “So, I was right. You don’t want me around.”

Joel turns on his knee, allowing you to see the remnants of flush in his cheeks, his messy hair and his response that rips a hole straight through your chest, “I’m stuck with you because Tommy wants you around.”

It wasn’t a direct answer, but you could read into it enough.

You glance over the back of the couch, wondering if the gun was still laying on the floor where Joel had squeezed it out of your grip, but the click to your right has you turning in an instant, staring down the barrel of Joel’s gun.

“You got a lot to learn,” Your glare is less than impressed as it lands on him, petulant and annoyed, “Don’t ever touch my gun again, alright?”

“Oh,” you respond airily, an impish smile creeping onto your face as you tilted your head slightly, “so—you fucked me as punishment or because of some silly little fantasy you've always had of fucking your neighbors daughter?”

And to your surprise, Joel's response is less angered.

“You could do with a little punishment,” He rises on his knees, pocketing the gun back in his jeans, and smirking at your dumb-founded expression, “—couldn’t you?”

Joel approaches closer, motioning with his fingers for you to stand and without thinking, you follow. His subtle smirk grows wider and he’s reaching for the forgotten knife on the floor, having fallen off your pants in the midst of your hurried undressing.

“I ain’t here to teach—I’m keepin’ us alive. The sooner you learn to shut up and follow, the better,” He reaches for your hand, placing the knife into your open palm, “and you kissed back, so that look on your face, that regret—”

“Who said there was regret?”

Joel’s eyes stick to you, meeting yours fiercely for a moment as you take the knife from him and reattach it to the loop on your jeans. His tongue licks at his bottom lip briefly, watching the subtle grin spread across your face.

Your words were a challenge. 

And for you, that meant game on. 

-

dividers creds: @/saradika-graphics

[fangsandfeels]

"Everyone gets along because there is a threat", yadda, yadda, yadda.

Bullshit. This is not how real scenarios work and it has never been.

russia is a global threat right now, but the world can't decide between sucking its dick and politely asking it to stop because the mere thought of confronting russia makes it shit its pants. The very few countries who scream into the void, warning about russia and telling people to wake the fuck up are ignored and viewed as crazy doomsayers.

This is how real crisis looks like. Nobody works together against a threat because people are spineless cowards who would rather throw their neighbors under the bus than fight. Nobody learned anything from history lessons, books or survivors.

The only difference in a fantasy game is that NPCs end up having more spine and moral principles than real people.

But in Veilguard, everyone gets along because they have NO reasons not to.

Davrin has no real reasons to beef (if you can call it that) with Lucanis because he is a Grey Warden. He knows where Grey Wardens take their conscripts from. He knows that Grey Wardens regularly recruit mages who are a lot more likely to get possessed if they're not careful. Working with an assassin who knows friend from foe isn't the worst thing ever. One subtle warning about taking action if demon takes over is enough.

Taash has no reasons to antagonize Emmrich aside from horrible writing.

Neve gets along with Bellara because writers gave Bellara a happy childhood with her family and turned Dalish artifacts into Apple store gadgets, while refusing giving Neve any nuance as the citizen of Tevinter.

Emmrich gets along with everyone because he is generally a kind and well-mannered person who doesn't like to stir the pot.

Any companion who could have had a sharp edge, got that edge ripped off and a cartoon band-aid slapped on.

Never doesn't deal with people who don't know about Shadow Dragons (and they probably shouldn't know much because when you work against a powerful government who wants to destroy you, you shouldn't show off), so she constantly has to deal with the fact that people assume she is a noble or a slave-owner because she is from Tevinter; that they don't know that she had to literally fight against being enslaved herself because in Tevinter mages who refuse to use their power to dominate others are turned into slaves as well.

Bellara isn't conflicted about working with humans, especially Tevinter humans at all. She seems to never have dealt with oppression her whole life and she is super quick to write off Cyrian as evil even though there are clear SIGNS that he was tricked and controlled by the Forgotten One. But no, she never thinks "He is still there, I can save him, I won't lose him again", she goes straight to "Oh nooo my brother is dead to me".

Emmrich doesn't get burdened by people reacting to him and his sincere intention to help with fear, because of all the sinister rumors revolving around necromancers and Nevarra. He isn't hurt by people assuming that he loves death and things dying. If even he openly admitted that he is deeply terrified of death, they wouldn't have believed him.

Harding isn't burdened by the revelation she learned and what to do with it. Should she storm her way to the Orzammar? Should she talk to fellow surface dwarves and reconnect them with their history? Should she never breach the subject because the truth hurts and it's too much pain, too much anger to live with - and maybe she shouldn't let other dwarves go through it?

We don't even have a party divided on what to do with Solas (kill or talk it out)? Even though it's logical to have companions who are convinced that Solas has to die and those who think that he is misguided and can be convinced to stop.

Also, there are NO companions whose background, viewpoints and attitude would rile other companions up. We have no controversial characters whose interactions with the crew Rook would have been forced to intervene in unless they want their team to start throwing hands with each other.

We could have had Imshael - to give EVERYONE a reason to worry, and argue, and have conflicts. We could have had an ex-Venatori Calpernia bashing heads with Neve, Bellara, and Emrich. We could have had a Qunari spy who'd make Lucanis' dagger-arm itch.

If writers didn't forget about the Architect, we could have had an intelligent Darkspawn companion Davrin could be losing his shit around.

Or heck, we could have had a former red templar who got partially (magically?) reversed from their mad state and is now not a mindless beast, but still is on a borrowed time, probably needed due to their strength, but barely tolerated by anyone.

Who is fanatical, mostly because they have to believe they made a noble sacrifice, that it all was for the greater good -- because the truth scares them to their core. Who gives Lucanis shit for being an assassin and abomination, who bashes necromancy, and mages, and talks about purity, while downplaying their own actions as "Yes, these are my sins, but they are for the better world, and I would be proud to die for that world unlike you heathens who would rather ruin it than repent for your flaws". The kind of companion you'd initially want to do nothing with, but who can reveal an entire gallery of fucked up contradictions and trauma if you decide to keep them around.

However, writing such companions takes skill, courage, and requires absence of greedy corpo "we don't want to scare away new players with all that moral nuance" thinking.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Incomplete Summonings (Demon Alastor x Living Reader)

CW: Creampie, temperature play, demon summoning, virginity, light blood, Sex with Alastor's shadow, Sex with Alastor, human Vox cameo Rated: Adult Summary: You summoned a demon to remove your romantic competition from the equation. When your sacrifice was far too little, earning you only the shadow of the demon you had called, you had to find something else to sacrifice to pay the price. Requested by: Not Red, @redvexillum

You were hurt. Bitter rage burned inside you. There was nothing that could soothe your rage. Meditation did nothing. Talking about your feelings was a waste of time. Time did nothing to dull the ache. 

You had given everything to Voxly. He had blurred the lines between professional lives and personal. Again and again, he promised more, that you would matter. The things you did for him. You had been on your knees, worshiping him under his desk just to find out he was seeing yet another new girl the following day. 

You hated him. 

It had been a year, and you hated him just as much as you did the day he told you ‘sure thing,’ when you told him you needed, wanted something more with him, something official. You knew the ‘sure thing’ was just to make you happy for the time and goddamn you, it did. 

Again and again you fell for his sugar-coated lies. 

Maybe, if you had given him your virginity, he would have wanted you.

You were supposed to be exclusive and yet you found out through the gossip of others that he asked someone to marry him. She was tall and elegant and everything you could never be. 

You hated her even more than you hated him. She took what was yours. He should have been yours. 

It was madness, you knew, as you crouched over the dirt in the clearing. Pesky morals wouldn’t do anything to stop you. Your heart ached for the life lost as you poured the dog’s blood into the designs and symbols needed for the spell. 

The more valuable the blood used, the stronger the power. That was what the book had said. Dogs were well loved and a family pet was a child’s first best friend. 

Your mind whispered that human blood would have been more powerful, but that thought was pushed away, banished. You wouldn’t kill a human. You were not a murderer. 

But if you could summon the soul of one to do it for you, that was alright. It kept your hands clean. You could have Voxly back. 

“Vox,” you whispered as you sat back, looking at your work. “For you, Vox. I’m doing this all for you.” 

Power radiated through the shadows, a quick flash of it. Alastor’s ear twitched absently as he looked up from his book.

“What a pathetic attempt,” Alastor murmured to himself as he turned the page.

Shadows moved around you, dancing in a ghoulish display of horrors. Wind threw the fall leaves into the air, sending them high only to land on your hair along with dirt and twigs. 

Instantly, you regretted everything you had done. This wasn’t supposed to work. 

A shadow rose from the center of the circle, humanoid in shape. The silhouette wore what looked to be a skirt or… no; it looked male. Perhaps it was a long coat it wore. Tall tufts of hair stood atop the shape of the head and between them, stretching out from the head, were wide antlers. 

“What are you?” You threw a rock at it only to watch it fly through the black body. 

He cocked his head to the side and pointed to himself. A question mark floated, black as void, atop his head. Red glowing eyes and a mouth that spread in a sharp grin broke the black of his face up. 

He held his hands up, long fingers curving into claws as he mimed being a monster. 

“You’re a demon?” 

The monster’s smile spread wider as he held his thumbs up in confirmation. 

“I- I summoned you?” 

The black void nodded eagerly, the motion large and exaggerated. 

“Right.” You took a deep breath, running your sweaty palms over your lap, wiping them on your skirt. “Right. I summoned you. You have to obey me.” 

The void held his hand out, rocking it back and forth as if to say, ‘kind of’. 

“I summoned you to kill the woman my boyfriend is to marry.” You felt dirty just saying it. 

A big X appeared above the void’s head. 

“Why not?” 

The void held out his hand, showing miniatures. A void man walked, a shadow stretching out at his feet. The void man pointed at the shadow and then at himself. 

“You’re just… the shadow of the demon I wanted to summon?” 

A black checkmark appeared over his head as he held his thumbs up in again. 

“Why?” Tears welled in your eyes. “Can’t you do it, anyway?” 

The shadow shook his head. The voids in the air changed into a series of animals, then people of different age. The shadow pointed to the shape of a dog, to you and then to himself. Then he pointed to the people and pointed to the silhouette of the man with a shadow, still walking in place through the air. 

The shadow then pointed to the circle he stood in, the dog, and then walked his fingers through the air. The fingers walked into his other hand, falling over as an X floated above the finger puppet man. 

“You can’t leave the circle.” 

The X became a check mark. 

“What if I sacrificed more?” you asked. I could get more dogs- I could-” 

The X returned at the mention of more dogs. 

“What could do it then?” Tears gathered in your eyes.

The shadow looked at you, grin spreading freakishly wide as he made a show of looking up and down your body. He made kissy faces toward you, little black hearts floating up from his head as he motioned for you to come closer. 

“A kiss?” Timid legs took you closer and closer to the edge of the circle. 

He made the seesaw motion with his hand again. 

“More?” Your knees were knocking together as the hand shifted into a thumbs up. 

“I’ve… I’ve never…. I’ve never done much more than that.” 

The shadow put up his second thumb. 

“If… If I let you do whatever you need to… to me, you’ll kill her?”

The red eyes closed, and he nodded his head. 

“Are… are you going to hurt me?” You toed the line of salt and blood, terrified of crossing over. 

The shadow man shook his head, signaling a negative answer. 

You didn’t want to do this. It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t smart. But was any of this smart or safe?

One foot slowly crossed over the line, and then you were stepping over. Static tingled over your skin as you moved into the circle where two worlds could exist at once. 

The moment you crossed, cold limbs wrapped around you, shifting and slithering as he pulled you close. The wide red eyes and inhuman smile looked at you, a predator ready to take its prey. 

A shiver ran down your spine as black shadow claws cut through your dress as if it was nothing. He shredded your bra and panties with manic glee. His touch was cold, so cold as it ghosted over you. 

There was a shimmer of shadow for a moment and then the thing appeared, a black body without the trappings. The shadows reached up, wrapping around your limbs as he held you in his arms. They worked together to guide you down to the ground. 

Rocks and sticks bit into your skin. Leaves and dirt gathered in your hair as you trembled. The shadows wrapped around your wrists, pulling them up above your head. More shadows spread your legs. 

The man in control of it all knelt in front of you, eyes running up and down your naked body. You could see a rod protruding from his body. You shivered, the cold ground under you and the night air stealing the warmth from your body. 

Black hands ran up your skin, examining the smoothe expanse of your legs. He caressed higher and higher. You gasped as his fingers ran through your folds, ice cold. He ran his black claws through them again and again, each pass sparking more pleasure. 

A black tongue ran out of his mouth, licking lips you couldn’t see. The passes of his fingers came easier now, smoother. The pleasure was growing. 

Cold pressed into your core as he moved himself between your legs. He held the hand that had been working over your core up, spreading fingers covered with a clear slick. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, hips twitching as the blunt end of his icy cock pressed against your opening. 

He held up his hands, one making a circle with his fingers. He pushed his fingers through the circle in a lewd miming of penetration. Once his message was delivered, icy hands fell to rest on your waist. Gooseflesh ran across your body as he pressed forward slowly. 

Your virginal body resisted the intrusion. The cold of him had your body tightening up. That didn’t stop him from pushing forward. With the steady soft pressure, your body relented, spreading over the bulbus head of his cock. 

Your back arched as a cold fullness dominated your senses. Deeper and deeper he pressed, hands pulling your hips to him. The shadows held your arms steady; the ache settling in the joints as he stretched them. 

You were freezing, cold from the inside out, as he reached deeper and deeper until his hips pressed into you. Your walls ached around his shaft, cramping and quivering as the coldness sank into your cervix. 

Shivers ran down your body, tears running down your face. It wasn’t painful, but it felt wrong. There was no warmth. There was no love. The shadow looked down at you, greedy at the sight of your virginal body spread over his cock. 

Pulling back, he slammed into you again. The harsh thrust jolted your body in the constraints of shadow. Each thrust was harsh, claws digging into fat as he worked in and out of you. 

Cold touches ran up your ribs as the shadow man leaned forward, thrusting harder. Freezing palms enveloped your breasts, cold sinking into you. Your nipples pebbled under his touch painfully. 

His shadows pulled you up as he leaned back. A black heart floated over his head as he wrapped his arms around you. The shadows holding your wrists stretched your arms higher and higher until your knees struggled to touch the ground. The man thrust into you, torso slapping against your sensitive clit. 

“So cold.” You could see your breath as you spoke. 

The shadow ran his tongue over your painful nipple. The saliva froze on your skin, quickly melting as he moved on. It hurt. It felt good. You were going insane. He was driving you insane.

“Fuck,” you whispered as your body tightened around him. Each thrust wound your body tighter around him. “Too much. Too much.” 

The shadow man shook his head, running cold hands over your skin as he continued running his freezing tongue over sensitive skin. 

You came with a scream, cold muscles cramping from the power of the convulsions. The shadow man thrust into your body through it, each thrust bullying walls that wanted nothing more than to hold him in place and milk him. 

Shadows ripped your body from him, sending you spiraling through the air as they pushed and pulled your limbs. Landing hardly on your hands and knees, you tried to scramble away. 

Cold pushed into you again, sensitive body eagerly making way for his freezing cock. A hand made of nothing and everything wrapped in your hair, pulling you on your hands as he fucked into you. Each thrust was silent even as his hips slammed into your ass and knocked the air from your lungs. 

Alastor sat in his chair, book set aside, as he glared at his lap. His cock stood tall and proud from his open pants, painfully throbbing. He had already taken himself in his fist once, working himself to a quick completion, hoping to be rid of the annoying state. 

It didn’t do him any good. He could feel the way his shadow, the keeper of all his troublesome and distracting emotions, did something to his counterpart. 

“What are you up to?” Alastor murmured to himself, struggling to tuck his painfully erect cock into his pants before melting into the shadows. 

As he rose from a pool of shadows, Alastor realized he was in a clearing in the living world. The shadow must have answered the pathetic attempt at a summoning, he decided as his eyes scanned the small area. 

“And what are you doing?” Alastor’s eyes went wide at the sight in front of him. 

His shadow had you on your hands and knees, drool running down your chin and hair wrapped in his hand. Through his connection to his shadow, Alastor could feel the waves of your orgasm running through your body. By Alastor’s count, it would be your third. 

“Leave her.” Alastor ordered, sending his shadow cowering behind him. 

You looked over your shoulder, seeing the colored counterpart of the black void that had taken your virginity. He ran his red claws up the back of your thigh as he knelt behind you. 

“You summoned me?” His voice was smooth, static radiating through his words. “For what?” 

“To kill a woman.” His hand was so warm after feeling nothing but cold. It felt like you had been trapped in the cold of the shadows forever. “Have I… have I given enough? Please, say it’s enough. I’m so cold.” 

“Shh,” Alastor cooed, working his pants open. “Just a little more, doe, and I’ll warm you up during it.” 

The head of his cock felt like it was on fire as he pushed into you. You screamed at the contrast, body trembling as he sank into your sensitive walls. 

“Go,” Alastor said as he bottomed out inside you. The chill of your body had his cock twitching inside you. “See to our task.” 

The shadow man nodded eagerly and melted away. The red man turned his attention back to your trembling form, shifting you to your side. His searing hot hands gripped your leg, spreading your folds around him as he rested your calf against his chest. 

“What a troublesome girl you are,” Alastor cooed, running his hands up and down your cold leg as he thrust slowly into you, his cock burning your chilled core from the inside.

The smile he wore was far more frightening than that of the shadow man. This new man’s smile was a dangerous mask. The shadow wore his emotions on his sleeve, or rather in little designs that floated around his head. There was no part of this demon that you could trust. 

Large red clawed hands ran up your waist, chasing away the lingering cold on your skin. Burning trails of his touch ran along your sides, up your ribs as he thrust lazily into you. 

“Please,” you begged, back arching as his warm hands soothed your breasts, warming your painfully cold nipples. “So cold.” 

“I know,” Alastor cooed as his hand wrapped around your thigh again.

He used it and his hand on your hip as leverage, pinning you in place as his pace quickened. His hips pistoned into you, rough pants biting into your ass with each slap against it. What had been silent with the shadow man was loud and animalistic now.

Your cries filled the circle, joined by his panting. His cock pistoned into you, head slamming into your cervix as the angle allowed him deep access to your core. Your hands, no longer trapped by the cold shadows, scrambled for purchase as one of hell’s demons used your body for his pleasure. 

Nails dug into the ground, ripping dirt and grass up by the roots as you tried to turn onto your side, to crawl away. His grip was unrelenting, grunts of effort joining your moans as he worked his cock into you again and again. 

Each drag of his large cock through your sensitive, abused walls stole the breath from your lungs. Pleasure, fear and pain all mixed as you moaned. His claws punctured through your skin, hot blood running up your thigh and down your side. 

You didn’t know where the pleasure ended, and the pain began. Fear and lust became one. 

“Too much,” you moaned, “Please, I can’t.”

“You can,” the man, his voice sounding like it came from an old radio said, “And you must. It’s your payment to me.” 

His hand ran over your skin, finding your clit between your legs and rubbed over the slick nub. Each pass of his fingers had your hips thrashing as you were pushed closer and closer to your end. 

You were sure if you came again, it would kill you. There was no way you could survive another round. Your body was spent. 

“Please,” you sobbed as the coil tightened inside you. Each thrust into you felt like he was clashing against glass. It was just a matter of time until…

You broke, back arching, and a scream echoing off the trees, sending birds flying through the night sky. The force of your orgasm was blinding as your walls thrashed against the cock still pounding inside you. 

“There you go,” the demon cooed, folding over you. Your knee pressed into your shoulder as he pounded his hips into you. His pants sank lower as he changed position, balls now swinging into you with each thrust. “Good girl,” 

You couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air in the world when he looked at you, face so close and eyes so inhumanly red. Your walls continued their convulsions as your hands moved from the dirt to the man atop you, digging into the fabric of his red suit. 

“What a good little sinner you are,” the demon spoke as he moaned, hip stuttering with a broken rhythm. Hot ropes of his seed shot inside you. He painted your cervix with it with so much force you could feel each pulse of hit. He throbbed inside you as he wedged his cock as deep as it could reach, moans of praise on his lips. 

Only when his cock stilled, no longer twitching inside you, did he slowly pull from your body. He left you limp on the ground as he stood, tucking his softening member into his pants and straightening his clothes. 

You gasped for breath, left on the dirty ground as your leg fell without a thought. Alastor watched as his seed ran in a thick river from your used cunt. Could it take root here, in a living body? Wouldn’t that be a surprise! 

It would serve you right, having disturbed his evening. With one last look, he turned and stepped away, melting into the shadows as he left you. As the last traces of his form left the living world, the surrounding candles winked out of life. 

You lay naked in the clearing for over an hour before you stood and stumbled toward your home. You walked, naked and bleeding through the streets as a demon’s seed ran down your legs, reminding you of the sin that would have you damned to hell. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[feather-bone]

Hey, I’m just reaching out to people on Tumblr. You’ve probably heard of Jesus and God, but have you ever reached out to Jesus for problems in your life? Big or small. Not to make you uncomfortable, but did you know sin (in your life and other people’s lives) can really hurt you, it make feel like there is a void that is never satisfied. That void could be called a “God sized hole.” Sin sucks and not just in a societal cookie cutter way, but in a way that it feels like there is a decay within a person. That can be a lot to take in, but I hope it is good food for thought. I hope you’re having an awesome day!! 💕

Answering this only because I went to Catholic school pre-K-high school, and it hurt me, and now I'm a pretty poorly adjusted adult who's had to do his own self-help work to get myself to an okay mental place. So I have a thought I want to share on this topic.

I don't care about your Christian god at all. He is none of my business. Y'all have constructed a guy malleable enough for political use, but the spirit of the world is much bigger than that construction. What does the god of ants look like? What does the god of stars look like? We think we can know the divine because we want a tangable relationship with the spiritual, but the guy y'all have made up is one I do not want a relationship with.

My inner demons aren't things separate from myself that need exorcising. They didn't come from the devil. Life is challenging, and humans respond to pain in a variety of ways - some of which the Christians will tell you is sinful. There's a good point in here about introspection, caring for yourself, taking care to do no harm, but if you find that hole in your heart where the natural decay of living has started to hurt from the inside, there are other ways to mend it. Im friends with my sin. I'm coming to terms with the cruelty of the outside world, as well. The pain of living things is interconnected - if I hurt you, it rebounds and hurts me too - but I no longer think of these things within the framework of Christian morality.

I recommend putting that framework away, if you've been stuck in it for a while. Go touch grass, watch a hawk kill and eat a squirrel, remember that we are borrowing life from the earth and will go back to it when we're done - there's no guarantee of an afterlife except the life your bones feed to the grubs and mushrooms that bloom from your corpse, so let's take a minute to feel that divine relationship that For Sure exists.

If you need to pick your religious community and comfort back up after that, do what ye will. But harm none. Also, proselytizing is annoying.

[kelpweedkelpweedingkelpweeds]

Reading analysis about Cal while screaming into the void known as an empty room and here to publish my unneeded thoughts about my blorbo.

Cal deserved more screen time, he deserved more chapters of his POV and honestly VA did him so dirty 😔

Because our dear RQ characters are definitely unreliable narrators, the reader’s perception of characters is based on their own POVs and how other characters perceive them. Unfortunately, every character describes Cal as a lovesick puppy, a mopey matchstick, a dense moron and everything in between. It's not that these are wrong, they're part of his character, but these are incredibly surface level traits which leads to the general perception of Cal’s character being superficial, bland and boring. It seems like his only purpose in the story is to be Mare’s love interest because Maven betrayed her.

However, he has a whole lot of untapped potential. My man did not get betrayed by Mare, betrayed by his brother, find out his mother was murdered buy Elara, get forced to kill his own father, lose everything he had and got sentenced to execution all in 1 day for people to call him boring. Honestly, when I listed it out like that, I truly realised how crazy the whole situation was. Within the span of a day he lost any form of stability he had even known in his life, and found out that one if not the closest person to him (maven) was a lie. If that isn't traumatic, I really wouldn't like to hear whatever other definition of trauma there is out there. I think the only reason we very much overlook Cal's trauma is because 1. It happened in real time, 2. He's no longer a child, 3. We didn't see it from his POV and 4. In this scene he and his father are technically the "bad guys".

Here's the thing though, he has never talked about it. Not once. Never. The closest we ever saw this man to losing his mind was when he was planning the Corros prison break. He'd never mentioned this trauma from any POV, not even his own. Maven told Mare about how Elara messed up everything in his brain, and how he never recovered from it. For Cal, we never found out how he dealt with it and how close to the brink of insanity he was. If he ever just felt like exploding and destroying everything. Nobody except Mare ever asked him if he was ok. He had every right to go mad. But he didn't. Some miraculous way, Cal managed to maintain some semblance of sanity and that is unimaginable mental strength like holy shit.

Another way too glossed over plot point was why he chose the crown over mare in the epilogue of KC. This one I get genuinely frustrated over sometimes because there were so many reasons for him to make that decision. I know many people have talked about this before but I'm just going to repeat it 1. It's the best political move in the situation. Cal isn't stupid, no matter how many people seem to think he is. He knows better than to let the place of King open for anyone to snatch up and that it was the only way the Silvers and the Scarlet Guard would ever work together. 2. To him it's his moral obligation. Cal's loyalty and sense of duty is a huge part of his character. All his life he's been told it's his responsibility, his destiny to become king and serve the people. Not only that, the crown is his family's legacy and considering the fact that he was the one to behead his own father Cal likely feels even more morally obligated to become king. The words he said to Mare, "I love you and I want you more than anything else in this world". He uses the word "want", but how can a want, a desire ever compare to what he believes is a need, an obligation? It's not that he didn't love mare enough like Evangeline suggested, or that he fell prey to the power's lure like Mare insinuated in the epilogue. He did what he full heartedly believed was right, and unfortunately this was barely touched upon in war storm which made me want to tear my hair out.

This yap session is nearly done, just hold on a bit longer. The last thing that DEFINITELY should have gotten more words was his ultimate decision to abdicate. All we got was him reading Coriane's diary, Evangeline telling him "if it's not too late for me, it's not too late for you" and then the decision. WHERE'S THE IN-BETWEEN THOUGHT PROCESS? He read through Coriane's diary and realised that she wanted her son to have a different life, and of course he probably had some thoughts about it. Considering how he knew the Scarlet Guard and Montfort weren't with him, how he still loved Mare, perhaps realizing what his life could have been with an alive mother was what tipped him over the edge. Perhaps it was loyalty to his mother he never had the chance to know, loyalty to the little of her forever bound in a gold-covered book, buried in the graveyard known as time. Maybe he asked Julian who seemed to want him to reconsider his decision as king, but we'll never know because it wasn't written 😭😭😭

Cal is incredibly kind, loyal, warm, passionate, motivated, and indecisive, and I love that about him. His story could have been a tragedy, a prodigy put on a pedestal that had everything and was forced to be everything, reduced to nothing in an instant. But it wasn't. He found love in a girl that took everything from him, and rebuilt himself a far better life from the ashes of nothing. Normally the circle between characters I like and characters I respect rarely overlap, but somehow this 6'3 adorable ass dork stuck himself straight in both and this is why I will defend what his character is and could have been. Thank you for attending my Tedtalk, it's literally all my thoughts about this man exploding into text and falling onto a Tumblr post.

This is me getting distracted from writing Fated god send help I just can't stay on track

Funny story I wanted to copy this essay into a document for fun just to see how many words and guess who highlighted a portion of it and clicked space by accident. Hahaha (that whole thing was 1000 words btw I need to learn to shut up)