#well better drawing skills than what i got

[aeligsido]

I'm very tired but plz get this:

The Marauders do a group costume for Halloween (they always do). They chose Little Red Riding Hood. The cast is as follow:

→ Remus as Little Red Riding Hood (he didn't get a choice);

→ Sirius as the Hunter (promise it's a fake axe but real abs);

→ James as the Grandma (he's rocking the nightdress, also already had the glasses);

→ Peter as the Wolf (he would get a furrsuit just to be more authentic if he could).

[sleepn0tfound]

That's MY Daughter

DC x Fem!Neglected!Batsis! Reader x Marvel [Just some midnight thoughts]

Bruce and Tim realised something odd about Stark Industries. Ever since a few months ago the technology being produced there had improved by an unbelievable amount. It was futuristic, nothing that this world has seen before. And the weirdest part of it is the fact that Tony Stark had offered to partner up with Wayne Enterprises. THE Tony Stark, Iron Man, the most egotisical man they knew had willingly offered to partner up with them? After years of being petty with Bruce and the JL?

Tim had been made to prepare to become the new CEO soon, thus he recently started taking up more work at Wayne Enterprises when the agreement was made. Though instead of Tony being the one to talk about ideas it was an unknown woman communicating with him about the ideas, the product, the marketing, etc. And the merge of the two companies was an absolute success, the marketing especially drawing in young adults. (courtesy of Tim and the mysterious women who seems to be around the same age as him)

Who was the mysterious women though? Well both Bruce and Tim could only come to one solution. The least known character to Bruce, to Batman, which says a lot considering the fact that he had made a contingency plan for every Avenger, every hero, including his own teammates, including himself, yet this one character was completely unknown, zero plans if she were to go rogue. And that drove Bruce crazy. Her file was blank. Every vital information was marked with the word 'unknown'. It had been making Bruce paranoid for years since she had appeared next to the Avengers.

The reassurance from the Avengers never helped. It was as if something was gnawing at him. After all how could he trust them anyways? (careful Bruce your trust issues are showing)

One of the only things they knew about her is that she is the main hacker/coder for the Avengers, hence the reason why the Avengers digital security was admittedly better than the Justice League's and how much faster they got, what should be, classified information. (no matter how much Bruce wants to deny it)

And her codename, Special Agent Reaper. No she wasn't originally an Avenger, she was crowned the most skilled assassin of this era, working under S.H.I.E.L.D and one of the sole reasons why all of the HYDRA agents that have sneaked into S.H.I.E.L.D have been successfully taken out, her name would pass by in the wind every so often, they might be rumours or the truth but no one truly knows. Hell even Ra's Al Ghul, The Demon’s Head, had acknowledged her once. Even Talia had admitted that Damian's fighting technique was made to mirror The Reaper's, the only difference is he used katanas while the Reaper, fittingly, uses a scythe.

But one thing was for sure. If you saw the shadow of a hooded figure you better run, though at that point it might be too late.

As the saying goes, "Beware of the Grim Reaper. Wherever it goes death follows closely behind.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Ah! Brucie! Here you are!” Tony said, wine in hand as he approached Bruce at the gala. Well that was a first. He usually never played into the Brucie persona. Well nonetheless the show must go on.

“Tony!” Bruce threw himself at the other billionaire, acting as if he was drunk, ignoring the way Tony’s expression turned into a grimace for a split second.

As usual, they were both around other pretentious socialites who never seemed to run out of questions.

“Ah! Tony, I heard Stark Industries have been bringing in more money than ever.”

“Oh yes! It’s all because of this prodigy i had found. She actually was the reason why Stark Industries and Wayne Enterprises had a collab. I might even give the company to her when I retire!" He let out a laugh that seems to emanate the word 'rich', a small smirk stayed on his lips as he heard the guests at the gala begin to whisper.

"Oh? Is that so? Then I would love to meet the person I have been working with this entire time." Tim Drake-Wayne said as he finally came out of the corner where he would usually stay in to observe rather than interact.

"Be my guest." A subtle challenge, as if Tony was daring him to go through with it as they locked eyes. A smirk on one face while a well practiced smile on the other.

Bruce let out a light hearted laugh as he tightened his grip around Tony, a subtle warning to stay away from his son, "Well then I wouldn't mind arranging a meeting! I'm sure you wouldn't mind the others joining." His tone had a slight change that even the most observant wouldn't realise.

Bruce could barely keep up the 'Brucie' act with Tony bragging about how Stark Enterprises profits have shot up with him finding a 'prodigy' and someone who will take over the company once he retires.

"Not at all. The more the merrier. I assume you wouldn't mind me inviting more people as well." Tony sipped his wine, he wasn't one to back out from a challenge, especially when he is so confident.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

This certainly wasn't how the Justice League and the Avengers expected their next meeting to happen. A petty fight between the two men that singlehandedly funds their respective teams causing all of them to be in one room together.

"Well then, Stark. Where is this prodigy that you speak so highly of?" Bruce said as he sported his famous batglare.

"I assure you she is on her way. She should just be right about done with her mission." Tony replied with the same tone, shooting a glare as well.

Meanwhile the two teams were watching this as if it was the most entertaining show they have seen.

.

.

.

"Hey I'm here." Y/n entered the hall, still wearing her assassin suit, though her signature black hood was down, revealing her face.

Silence seemed to engulf the room.

"Kid... Your hood."

"...Fuck."

hi! i might have disappeared for a month :D To those who are waiting for more parts of DC x Super/Kent!Reader it will come... eventually. I'm having the biggest writer's block for that specific AU so uhm yeah! I wasn't really planning on making that AU a series since it was mostly just me being bored and writing for the lols but since it received so much attention [thank you guys so much!] I have to do it now. i was doing some worldbuilding and already know how I want the reader to be and allat but I cant really think of how to shape the story ukukuk. so yeah stay tuned for that! also this thing was also just a blurb. Might make somewhat of continuation parts if I feel like it. [Also the neglected!batsis! fanfics I've been reading is getting to me. i have a feral urge to create a diff AU series for that] Also would you guys be interested in me creating a twitter/insta account or like a tele channel to post random things

[cheer-nympho]

Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.

Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,

But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,

Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?

He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.

When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.

Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.

“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.

And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.

This court jester is really fucking hot.

He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.

Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.

An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’

He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.

He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”

Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.

“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.

He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”

“It certainly makes an impression-“

“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”

“Steve is fine.”

“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”

“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”

“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.

So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.

Then out of nowhere… “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”

He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.

“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.

“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.

Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.

Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?

But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.

The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.

Shit.

He forgot to watch the fucking hands.

[krysmcscience]

It’s finally done, guys – five whole pages of Narilamb AU comic AND MORE be upon you! (If you have trouble reading any of the text, view the full-size! These pages are huge!)

Yeesh, this took forever. <:)

There’s probably a ton of inconsistencies and anatomy/perspective wonkeries, but this was mostly just comic practice, so Oh Hekkin Well, Lol <:D

(Yes, I am aware the Gateway’s door isn’t present in the Afterlife, and the actual way in is just a pentagram portal. Yes, I put the door in there anyway because Artistic License, i.e. it felt more impactful for there to be a prison door of sorts to walk through to freedom, rather than just a bland boring portal on the ground. 😠)

anyway, i hate backgrounds so much lmao

Alternate ending and a buttload of bonus art under the cut, followed by goofy AU rambles and headcanon stuff:

I’m calling it the Revival AU. It’s not all that creative a title, and someone else has probably used it already, but I am too lazy to really care, LOL

Alternate ending page, which you will Definitely need to view the full-size for, Whoopsie Daisy:

The alternate ending was actually the first ending I finished things off with, because I had a brief badbrain moment where I forgot the emotional beat I initially wanted the comic to end on, and I tend to write comedy, anyway. I later remembered and drew out the proper ending, but I preserved and finished this one, too, because it still makes me giggle.

They had to go back for the followers off-screen in the AU’s real ending. And by ‘they’ I mean just the Lamb, because they weren’t about to ask three newly freed cats to go back into what used to be their prison. The Lamb DID spend some time watching Narinder and the bois enjoying the outdoors first, though:

In other news, here’s the Lamb and me making fun of my anatomy-drawing ‘skills’:

Meanwhile, if you’re wondering why the Lamb is just a-okay with how things went down vis a vis Their Murder, this bonus comic should answer at least some of your questions:

Ah, yes, also this is how they get engaged outside of the alternate ending. Forgot to mention that bit. XD (I already refuse to believe that Narinder is capable of flirting normally, so why would his initial marriage proposal be any better???)

Oh, and before any of them get a chance to actually head back to the cult grounds, there is one potential problem:

And by ‘problem’ I mean something Narinder intends to ignore for At Minimum a thousand years. Cuz he’s a petty bitch like that. :D

what do you mean i drew the lamb too tall compared to the background? clearly they’re standing on top of baal and aym lmao, why else would you think those two aren’t in this one??? (aym and baal got way too excited about finally being outside, you see, and their silly modes are nothing to sneeze at)

And, speaking of heading back to the cult grounds, I’m sure y’all would love to know how the Lamb’s followers felt about the brand new change in management:

It all went better than expected. <:D Tiny ramble now, feel free to skip down to the next comic.

Before you ask, no, the Lamb does not have any actual powers anymore, other than the immortality Narinder definitely grants them. The Red Crown just thinks it’s funny to suggest otherwise, and Narinder does nothing to discourage this. Also, the Lamb and Narinder aren’t actually married here yet, but, uh. Pretty safe to say that particular ritual directly follows the events of this comic. XD

Given how quickly he mellows out in canon, Narinder probably chills out a lot in this AU once he’s in charge of the cult, too, if only because 1.) He’s finally free, and 2.) He’s equally smitten with and distracted by the Lamb. He’s definitely in charge at least 95% of the time, though, because the Lamb never actually wanted to be a cult leader and, now that their time as a vessel is done, they just want to be a normal(ish) sheep who’s wholly devoted to their hot new divine husband.

Some followers do still have some valid concerns about these two being together, though, which I’m sure at least a few of you might share…

Unfortunately for any such concerns, the Lamb is a bonafide masochist in this AU. :D

They’re also 100% a sub, obviously

Anyone at all: Your relationship is problematic and potentially toxic

The Lamb: fuck yeah it is, it’s so hot~ OuO

Here’s just the last panel, made transparent for whatever nefarious purposes y’all might have for it:

Additional exchange Narinder and the Lamb have at some point, probably after the Lamb does a fatal whoopsie while out on a mission trip or in response to things getting a little too sadistic in the bedroom, ahaha:

Look, there is a very important distinction between life and death, and if you don’t understand that, then you’re probably not worthy of being the God of Death, anyway. (At least, according to Narinder, and ONLY Narinder.)

Last but not least, have these shittens:

~Such creative naming conventions I have utilized, lololol~ :D Anyway, there's a few deets on them in the rambles down below.

The rest is all ramble, so before I get to that, I’ll just say – likes and especially reblogs are very much appreciated!!! :D If you happen to really really REALLY like my stuff, meanwhile, I do have a link in my bio to my ko-fi page, where I’m accepting commissions and donations if you’re especially generous… ÓuÒ

Now, BE FREE IF YOU AIN’T DOWN FOR READING MY GOOFY RAMBLES

First ramble is re: Baal’s question of ‘Did it really work?’, since I didn’t feel like expanding on it in the comic proper, and it’s arguably pretty vague? He doesn’t ask because he doubts Narinder or his capabilities, exactly, but because neither Baal nor Aym have ever actually seen their god at full power before (he’s still technically not at full power here, either). It’s not expressly stated how soon the brothers were brought to Narinder after his imprisonment, but whether it was early on or after a length of time for Shamura to (somewhat) recover from his attack, he must have already been weakened, since I have no doubts that there was a huge battle that accompanied the Bishops working together to trap him. So, between that fight with all four of his siblings, sharing his power with a variety of vessels over time, and being chained immobile for a thousand years, he must have been severely weakened by the time he lent the Red Crown out to the Lamb, which would have only weakened him further.

I like to think this is how the Lamb is able to defeat him if they refuse to be sacrificed, despite how it took all four Bishops working together to subdue and chain Narinder in the first place.

All that aside, the three cats have been trapped in the Afterlife for so long that Baal also wanted verbal reassurance that they are all, indeed, actually able to leave it now – something that I headcanon isn’t possible without a significant amount of power (i.e. the Red Crown’s cooperation with its bearer/vessel).

(On a semi-related note, I don’t headcanon Aym and Baal as twins. I like sweetheart big bro Baal and snarky little goth bro Aym too much to have them be that close in age.)

Ah, teeny thing: If you noticed I switched up the art style for Narinder on the second page, that was intentional. It's sort of a visual indicator that there has been a Big Change for him - that being, how much power he has after sacrificing the Lamb. As for why I changed up his arms in the grass rollin' pic, I don't really subscribe to the notion that his arms are spooky bones because they're horrifically injured (beyond chain-chafing scars, that is), but rather just because he's the Bishop of Death, so he can change how normal-to-spooky they look at will. At some point I might doodle out how I imagine his appearance to range between least to most eldritch... 🤔

Next ramble, regarding Narinder’s feelings towards the Lamb...he was initially too focused on being freed from his imprisonment to form any real attachment to them. They were a tool for his use, first and foremost, but he did notice their intense devotion towards him. It was impossible not to notice, because the Lamb was always very happy to see him, even if it was because they died during a crusade (yet again). He wasn’t originally planning to revive them once he was freed, either, because he saw no real point to it – after all, they were already dead when they first met him, just as any other mortal would be when meeting him in the Afterlife, so death has very little real consequence in his eyes. But, once the chains were off, and it really sank in that he stood to lose the most devoted follower he’s ever had, he decided…why put their soul to rest for good or leave them stuck in the Afterlife when he could just as easily revive them again? And why not reward them for their hard work, anyway? Not only would it cost him nothing by comparison, but the future devotion that could come of it would surely make up for his (bare minimum) effort in reviving them.

He wasn’t expecting to get a full dose of that devotion and a smiling face so soon after killing them, though~ :3c (because the Lamb is a bonafide freak, and not-so-secretly into the fucked up power dynamics going on here, lol)

I should mention here that I am firmly of the belief that any non-god/vessel who crosses through the Gateway and into the Afterlife just straight up dies. So, Aym and Baal? Also straight up dead, from the second Shamura brought them through. Their souls were just never put to rest so that Narinder could have some company – if only according to Shamura. Narinder kept the two around mostly out of bewilderment, because honestly, who are these kittens, and what is Shamura’s game here, anyway??? They never even explained anything, they just tossed these kittens into the Afterlife and LEFT!!! At any rate, Aym and Baal being dead is how I explain why their souls apparently become lost in the void if they’re killed, along with the added complications required to revive the two because of it.

So, with those deets in mind, and given a bit of time, if Narinder hadn’t chosen to revive the Lamb, and also hadn’t chosen to put their soul to rest, they still would have woken up at some point, despite being as straight up dead as Aym and Baal. Who, don’t worry, were also properly revived while Narinder was waiting for the Lamb to wake up. Because I am also firmly of the belief that, first, the dead cannot leave the Afterlife without the use of a ritual/relic (and can't stay in the living world for long regardless), and second, dead followers’ devotion isn’t anywhere near as potent as that of the living, given how much more the living stand to lose.

Final ramble, regarding the Lamb’s feelings towards Narinder, and why they’re so devoted to him…

Well, you don’t spend most of your life on the run with your steadily-dwindling herd, trying to evade the ongoing genocide of your species, without becoming a little fucked up in the head. Maybe a lot fucked up in the head. Life is suffering, so might as well have fun with it, right? Maybe start finding death and pain to be kind of hilarious, even a little bit hot, once everyone you know and love is dead and gone, leaving you all alone? And maybe after that, there’s something comforting in how, despite the cold, cruel uncertainties of life, at least you can always count on the inevitability of death, patiently waiting for you until your very last breath? Who knows. Either way, as soon as the Lamb was killed, and they learned that the literal God of Death was offering them a second chance at life and vengeance via effective immortality, they were 100% ride-or-die-devoted all at once. Turns out death is kinder than life – go figure. (Of course, it helps that Narinder is 100% their type.)

They weren’t put off by Narinder’s thinly-veiled sadism or manipulations, either – they’re not too different in those regards, albeit opting for vastly different methods. It’s a very ‘two sides of the same coin’ sort of deal. In order to stay alive once they were made the last of their kind, the Lamb had no qualms with using others to their advantage, and that did not change once they were revived and expected to run a cult. They didn’t care for the position of authority, though – being a sheep and all, they’re much more of a follower than a leader, and thus greatly appreciated Narinder’s need for control. With how they had to keep on their toes for so long, the Lamb was also pretty good at reading people by the time they died, so they could recognize that a lot of Narinder’s posturing was just that – posturing. Dude’s 95% bluster and only 5% bite. He could obviously be vicious when he wanted or needed to (the Bishops' injuries were clear proof of that), but underneath his outer layer of cruelty was a generous layer of tsundere, and underneath all THAT was a soft squishy middle sibling velcro cat in desperate need of attention and affection.

(Which, for the record, he Did Not feel comfortable getting from Aym and Baal – Narinder still has no idea why the fuck Shamura sent them to him, beyond acting as keepers at best or trying to sabotage his attempts to escape at worst. Which, he thought HE sabotaged in turn, by guiding the kittens into being his devoted disciples instead. He thought he was very clever for it. ‘I outsmarted Shamura!’ he thought, despite that there was never anything there to outsmart. ‘What do you mean, Shamura sent your kittens to me for company?’ he demands of Forneus later. It may or may not lead him to pull Shamura out of Purgatory just so he can shake them and scream about how they should have Fucking Explained that!!!)

But, getting back on track as to why the Lamb was so willing to be sacrificed, I cannot stress this enough – if you pay even a minimal amount of attention to what he’s saying, Narinder is REALLY NOT SUBTLE about his intentions. ‘Death is of little consequence.’ ‘Followers are for you to use to your advantage.’ ‘Sacrifice a follower to absorb more power.’ So, yeah, the Lamb knew exactly what would be expected of them once the other Bishops were dead. They knew Narinder would expect them to die for him one last time. But, after all, death is of little consequence (not to mention hot), so when the time came, they wanted to see him freed, even if it meant oblivion for them in the end.

He’d given them a second life, and the ability to avenge their kin, and they felt indebted to him for that – so, while they were still pretty glum about the possibility that they might not get to see him free of his chains, nothing beyond their devotion and debt to him mattered. They never wanted all the drama and expectations that came with the Red Crown’s power, anyway, so, better for Narinder to have it back so that he could deal with it. What he did with the Lamb afterward would be up to him, and seeing as he was their god, they’d accept his decision gladly.

Were they in love with him by that point? Oh, obsessively so, but only in the devotional sense – romance was nowhere on their mind nor radar. That is, until he unexpectedly revived them again, told them he still needed them, and then offered down his hand to help them up.

The Lamb fell HARD for him in that moment. :3c

And now, a tiny shitten ramble. Lu and Li are twins, because sheep tend to have those a lot, and are conceived not long after the Lamb and Narinder’s marriage ceremony. Lu is the minutes older one, but Li is much more mature. I have put no further thought into these two, other than that they are utter menaces, birthed by the Lamb, cling hard to both their parents but especially Narinder (who spoils them rotten), and they are both genderfluid, using whichever pronouns/names they feel like at any given time. They are also both intersex, same as the Lamb, who was initially infertile up until Something Something Vague Magic, which I have also put no further thought into ¯\_(シ)_/¯

oh, and before anyone tries to suggest i headcanon this AU’s lamb as trending more female due to them giving birth or whatever, no, no, a thousand times no, they might have a vag, but they've also got a dick, and even if it's not as big as they'd like, they still know how to use it

Finally, the very tentative name for the Lamb in this AU is Yazdi, which is really just another name for the Baluchi breed of sheep XD (Not that the Lamb is this specific breed, I just didn’t like any of the other sheep-related names I found, ahaha...)

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW (collapses into an exhausted pile of goopy limbs)

[lexirosewrites]

Omega Steve is enamored with Cringe Fail Alpha Eddie and everyone in his life knows it and doesn't understand why.

He's watching Eddie with heart eyes in their one shared class, sighing longingly as Eddie, bites the skin off around his nails and eats it while he ignores the teacher and plans his campaign. He's ignoring his friends' attempts to draw his attention when Eddie gets up on the table to give his semi-regular lunch table rants, almost slipping when he steps in someone's sandwich.

He is hands down the most popular Omega in the school even after he ditches his old friend and becomes Pack Omega to a bunch of puppies and band nerd Robin Buckley. He gets a stupid amount of courting gifts and never says yes to anybody, even a good amount of Betas have tried for his hand. The only Alpha that's never offered is Eddie Munson, and it makes Steve feel crazy.

And Steve knows he could just go over there and ask Eddie if he would be interested in courting, but he wants to be wood! He knows it's silly to way for the Alpha to make an offer but Steve is a romantic at heart and he wants to be wanted.

When Eddie starts dealing in his second senior year and Steve's first, Steve sees this as his chance to finally get close to Eddie organically and flirt a little to show Eddie he's interested. That he only smokes when someone buys for him is irrelevant. He'll buy every day if it means Eddie finally notices him. Robin says he's being a dingus. Steve insists he's a genius.

And so he goes to meet Eddie in the woods. To the average outsider, Eddie's hair is all frizzed out and he's probably worn the same pair of jeans every day this week and is overall a little bit of a rat. Steve Vision, however, only sees an extremely handsome, rugged Alpha seemingly waiting for him in the woods.

"Ah, King Steve. To what do I owe the honor?" It's probably meant as a dig, but it makes Steve preen a little anyway.

"Heard you were dealing now. Couldn't miss my chance to buy from the infamous Eddie Munson." Steve replies as he sits, leaning his head on his palm so he can look up at him from under his lashes. Laying it on a little thick? Maybe. But the way Eddie blushes is worth the cringy move.

With an in, Steve slowly starts inserting himself into Eddie's life more and more. He buys at least once a week, flirting all the while. Eventually, he asks if Eddie would like to meet his kids.

"They love that game, the dungeons one, and I think it would be fun if they all got to play while you ran the plays or whatever."

"Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. I know you know what it's called, but hell yeah lets do it! I'm dying to test my skills on some fresh players."

And of course, the kids love him. Well, Max is less than impressed and while Erica recognized him as an adequate DM, she is firm in her belief that Steve could do better. She's been insistent for the last year that he should be looking for a "real Fabio type" and Eddie Munson doesn't really fit the bill.

The real win of the night, however, is that Eddie brings so much stuff directly from his house that carries his scent. He still wears his scent patch like they all have to in school, which is disappointing, but his notes and books carry a distinct smokey, wet earth smell that nearly makes Steve swoon. He didn't get to see Eddie's reaction to walking into his house, another disappointment, but he just knows they're compatible.

After that, Steve gets himself an invite to Hellfire to watch. He loves seeing Eddie in his element, smiling along when Eddie crows with victory when someone in the party dies because of their own hubris. He stays and hangs out while Eddie cleans up chatting away about their days.

But for as much as Steve puts out all the right signals, and as much as Eddie seems to be flirting back, he hasn't made even a hit of a movement toward courtship. Steve doesn't want to give up, but he's starting to resign himself to the idea that he's just going to have to ask Eddie out himself.

Then one day while Steve is loitering around after Hellfire, an Omega cheerleader walks through the door asking for Eddie. She'd been sent this way by Chrissy Cunningham for some kind of anxiety medication since her mom wouldn't let her get a prescription. Steve's not thrilled by the interruption and is glaring daggers at the poor girl, but Eddie doesn't notice. No, Eddie is too busy breaking Steve's heart.

Eddie is doing all the same things he's done with Steve. All the things that gave Steve hope that Eddie was interested despite his lack of courting attempts. He's leaning in, teasing, hiding behind his hair at the slightest bit of attention. Apparently, those weren't reactions to Steve. That's just how Eddie reacts to any available Omega who looks his way.

Suddenly mortified, Steve jumps off the table he had been so happily perched on not five minutes ago. He grunts out some half-assed excuse and bolts for the door, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the humiliating tears.

From then on, he avoids Eddie as much as he can. No more weekly buying appointments. No more sitting in on Hellfire nights. He can't avoid him completely with the kids in the mix, but he keeps his distance as much as possible, too embarrassed and heartbroken to reach back out. He doesn't drop, not with Robin being such a stable Alpha figure in his life, but everyone can tell he's in a funk.

Eddie, meanwhile, has been as enamored with Steve as every other Alpha in Hawkins for years but never figured he would ever look his way in a million years.

When the Omega started appearing in his life, it felt a little like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Like he would wake up and it would all be some crazy dream induced by years of unfulfilled pining.

But Steve never disappeared and Eddie never woke up. Eddie still wasn't convinced that Steve would ever entertain the idea of courtship with him, so he simply didn't put himself in a position to be rejected, no matter what the Corroded Coffin boys said about Steve "blatantly and obviously begging you to court him, dude."

So on and on it went. The more time went on the more Eddie's instincts screamed that the Omega was his and the more Eddie forced himself not to think about it until all of a sudden Steve was just...gone.

Not gone gone of course. He sees him in the hallways and every now and then when Steve comes to pick the kids up from group hangouts that used to involve Steve on default. Robin also seems pissed at him which is its own thing, but Eddie would be lying if he said her glare didn't make him nervous.

He doesn't know what happened, but what he does know is that his chest hurts almost permanently now. He misses Steve like crazy and is determined to make them talk about whatever it is he did to make Steve avoid him.

Now if only he could get him alone...

------

Ran out of steam at the end there but in my mind Steve keeps avoiding Eddie with the help of Robin, Max, and Erica while Dustin, El, Will, and Lucas help Eddie. Mike would like for them to never get together, please and thank you.

After a couple of months of successfully avoiding Eddie, Steve decides to take up a beta's offer for a date which makes Eddie more jealous than he ever thought was possible. He's absolutely seething, even if he knows it's irrational to be that mad about an Omega he never had any claim over.

He ends up using the kids to break into Steve's house while he's out on the date to set up a competing date. He's all puffed up and ready to posture against Steve's date when he drops Steve off but instead, Steve walks up the driveway alone, looking defeated.

They argue on the front porch about why Steve has been so absent and eventually, Eddie deflates realizing that he's been hurting Steve with his inability to confront his own feelings.

He shows Steve the date he painstakingly set up for him inside, presenting his first of many courting gifts.

idiot4idiot steddie wins again🥰🥰🥰

[forzarma]

makeup disaster

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: lando Doing your makeup on stream what could possibly go wrong?

warnings:haven’t proofread 😞

You joined Lando while he was streaming last week, and both of you were playing a game. Well, you lost, which means you’re gonna let him do your makeup on his next stream.

Both of you sat, and you got your makeup essentials that you’re gonna have to use for this stream, hoping Lando wouldn’t freestyle your face considering the fact he doesn’t know anything about makeup.

“Hello chat,” he said while looking at the computer, “so apparently I’m doing your makeup,” giving a cheeky smile.

“I’m regretting this already, omg,” you said, laughing nervously.

“Anyways, first thing, I guess primer ’cause you have been nagging about killing me if I don’t put it first,” Lando said.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

He started tapping your face aggressively.

“Ouch, Lando,” you said, giving him a stern look.

“I’m trying, okay?” he said, looking at you innocently.

“Anyways, I think we need to use this,” he said while holding your foundation and your beauty blender.

He blended your foundation, and you were thanking god that he was doing good for now. Well, your happiness didn’t last long when you saw him taking your setting powder and putting it over your face.

“Wait, Lando—“ you were trying to tell him he should put concealer, but all you heard was “SHUSH.” You gave him a literal side-eye.

And then he had the audacity to put concealer after what the hell????

Looking at the mirror, all you could see is your cakey face.

He opened your eyeshadow palette and took a bright blue and started putting it over your eyes.

Then he picked your blush, PAINTED your face with it, making you look like a tomato.

Then he got the liquid eyeliner and hummed, “this is interesting,” and decided to literally act like your eyes are drawing papers.

He gave his attention to the chat, reading it, and people saying that’s not how he should put things, just for him to say, “nah, y’all are just wrong, I know what I’m doing.”

He took the lip liner, he put it on your lips, and gloss.

“Alright chat, that’s the finished look,” he said, looking proud as if he did an achievement.

“You did terrible, Lando,” you said, looking at him.

“You know, I did good, better than you do,” he muttered.

“Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed this stream and don’t fall in love with my makeup skills ’cause,” he said, smirking, then he ended the stream.

After ending the stream, Lando turned to you with a cheeky grin. "Alright love, let me help get that makeup off you. Can't have you walking around looking like a clown all night!" 

You playfully hit his arm. "Whose fault is that?" You retorted with a laugh. Lando gently took a makeup wipe and started dabbing at your face, his touches soft and caring as he removed the remains of his "artwork." 

"There we are, much better." He smiled, gazing into your eyes. You felt yourself getting lost in his stare, all thoughts of the disastrous makeup attempt melting away. 

Suddenly , you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Lando made a small noise of surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, cupping your cheek tenderly as he kissed you back. The spark between you that had been building for so long was finally igniting. 

When you finally broke apart, Lando rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. "Well, I may not be able to do makeup but at least I know how to do that," he whispered with a wink. You giggled, feeling giddy and light. It seemed the stream had ended on a much sweeter note than anticipated. Your "punishment" had turned out to be quite the reward after all.

[littlebearbun]

Ford Pines NSFW Alphabet

(Written for my best friend <3 I hope it makes you feel better)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Absolutely doting. Brings them a warm, wet rag to clean off, water, a fresh shirt, you name it. Very touchy, lives off the closeness and skin on skin contact. Asks a lot of questions about what they liked and what they didn't, if anything. Catalogues the marks he left. Sometimes draws them if they falls asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part is mouth, I think. Knows what it's good for-talking and as a seat. (I do think he would grow to like his own hands after being with someone he loved)

His favorite body part of his partner is this one specific freckle/mole behind their knee. Oh, you wanted something like boobs/ass? Neither. The crux of their leg.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum is a little more liquid than not. Comes a normal amount but it comes in waves. Whines through it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Thought about his partner sexually before their first time together and considers that a dirty secret for sure.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced. College took up a lot of his time, then he was paranoid as hell, then he was in alternate dimensions for 30 years. Did fuck around with aliens, partially for science and partially cause he was lonely.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary??? He's classic. That, or spooning, him behind them and lazily rocking against them. So much skin contact.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Definitely more serious, he's trying very hard and he needs to focus, dammit. Once he gets started it's hard to stop.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Takes very good care of himself, keeps it trim and neat. Has a happy trail and also grooms that.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very romantic, I think, or tries to be. Sometimes he gets caught up in his head/too focused but most of the time he's very about his partner and he's so, so sweet.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Did in high school/college to see what the fuss was about. Did not when he was working on the portal. Rarely did when In between dimensions cause he wasn't often safe.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

If they wear his shirt. Or on the opposite end of the spectrum of tameness, making them come until they cry. Somnophilia, if they gave permission first. If he can't sleep it's a nice way to pass the time and feel close.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In bed??? (Later they could convince him to do it in his study)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Every touch is like electric to this man. Touch starved as hell. If they look in his general direction sometimes wonders why his pants got tight. It's a process.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn't want to hurt them at all. Would also not want to be restrained, triggers him to Weirdmageddon. Do not degrade him, he takes it too hard.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preference to give for sure. Would stay down there for hours if they let him. Gets lost in it. He's greedy. Wants to see how many times he can get them to tremble for him. Tell him he's made for it and watch how red he turns.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He's half and half. Ideally he wants it slow so he can focus and commit it all to memory and slowly take them apart. Sometimes he just gets too caught up in it and then he's much faster.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He would much rather take his time. What's the point if he only gets to make them come once??

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experiment, yes. He's definitely made an aphrodisiac/stimulating gel before. Has made an experiment about how many times he can physically get them to come (actually had to be begged to stop, he apologized with lots of kisses) Risky? No. Wants them safe and happy always

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's so touch starved I think he comes pretty quick. Prefers lots of foreplay and for them to come at least twice before he gets his. Is a little embarrassed about it but makes up for it in spades.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Makes toys, but more for teasing than actual insertion. I mentioned the gel, but I could also see remote control vibrators or experimental stimulations.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He likes to think he can tease but he's too desperate for that. He can't tease for long before he wants more. Sometimes he breaks before his partner does.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man is loud. Whines a lot. Moans. Whimpers. He would try to talk through it and get cut off by his own sounds.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Listen I'm still on this-the mind reading helmet. Making them wear it and going down on them. In a less sexy note, is self conscious about all the scars and old tattoos. Lichtenberg scars are really sensitive, though. They can replace his self conscious thoughts with other ones. ;)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hairy but well groomed. Has a little tummy. His arms are built but not as big as Stans-Ford is built more for dexterity and speed. His pecs make perfect pillows. Has “Flirty Girl” and “Hey now you're an all star” tattoos. Definitely had old Bill worship tattoos that he burned/scarred the eyes off of. Has Lichtenberg scars after Bill electrocuting him and has many scars from knives and bullets from his time in the portal.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before he meets the love of his life, very low. (I headcanon Ford as Demi) After??? He can't get enough of the physical contact, though it's not always sexual. Just wants to be touching them. He yearns more for them sexually then he yearns for his own release.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Ford doesn't sleep very well anyway (cat naps or like, an hour or so increments) knows it's not healthy but he has nightmares and is not used to being safe when he sleeps. Anyway, after sex he stays up looking at his partner, memorizing every mark, freckle, mole, wrinkle, scar. He is very doting in aftercare and will absolutely cuddle. Draws them, like I mentioned. Sometimes reads in bed.

[breadbrobin]

lavender roses

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of persephone reader]

summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers

word count: 3.3k

(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)

(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)

———————————————

“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.

you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.

he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. “okay, we should hang out then.”

you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?

either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”

“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.

the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”

if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.

what the fuck. why would you say that?

chris was staring at you in shock.

your mouth was dry.

and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”

when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.

chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”

“i have no idea,” you breathed.

“do you think he knows?”

your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”

valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.

you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.

he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”

you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.

you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.

your arrow barely hit the target.

luke winced. “that was… better.”

you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”

he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”

“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”

“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.

you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.

“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.

“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.

“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.

you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.

he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.

you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.

“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”

you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.

your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.

luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”

your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”

he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”

then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.

february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.

but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.

“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.

you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.

“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”

“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.

“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?

you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”

“at two?”

“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.

his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”

“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.

at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.

your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.

even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.

she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”

you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.

she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”

“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.

you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.

then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”

you sat up. “what?”

“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.

you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.

you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.

holy shit.

becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”

you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”

she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”

as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.

“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”

“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”

“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”

you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.

it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.

you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.

luke was no where to be found.

great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.

just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.

“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”

he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.

shit. that would make things more difficult.

“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”

“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.

gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“

“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”

your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.

but he led you past the fields and into the forest.

great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.

you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.

you knew where you were going.

there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.

you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.

he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.

you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.

you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”

“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.

“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.

luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.

finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.

as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.

you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.

you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.

and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.

you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.

“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”

“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”

his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“

“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“

“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”

you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”

“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”

“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”

“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”

“you, what?”

he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”

you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”

“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.

“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”

he didn’t.

soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.

“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.

“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.

you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.

the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.

fucking hell.

you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.

the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.

he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.

[qqueenofhades]

I am FULLY ONBOARD the Harris/Waltz train, tho before this i was leaning towards Mark Kelly (AZ is a swing state! He's an ASTRONAUT!) If you want or have time, no pressure, but any thoughts on what makes Waltz a better pick?

I like Mark Kelly too, and since he's married to Gabby Giffords (having run for public office after she got shot and could no longer do so) he would have been an amazing pick in terms of supporting the first female POTUS. But he is a less charismatic public speaker than Walz (for whatever that's worth, but politics is a mess of Aesthetics and Vibes that matter as much and/or more than actual facts) and more moderate/conservative. He's been a great senator and picking him would defuse some of the BORDER IMMIGRATION BLAH BLAH!!! scaremongering that Republicans love to run on, but it would also leave open the possibility of losing a special election and other dangers with the Democratic senate that we really need to minimize. So Walz is a better choice for that alone, but also:

He really has serious progressive credentials as governor, even if he was a fairly mainstream Democrat (who flipped a rural red House district in Minnesota that Democrats have not been able to win again after he left) during his 12 years in the House. This is an INCOMPLETE LIST of what he was able to do in two years with a one-seat Democratic majority in Minnesota:

A Climate Action Plan that included:

Investing in energy infrastructure

100% carbon-free electricity by 2040 goal

Transition off of fossil fuels and onto clean energy resources

Building more electric vehicle charging stations

Providing funding to help workers acquire new skills through apprenticeship programs in clean energy fields

Direct state funding for transit

Money for rail

Tax credit for e-bikes

Permitting form to fast-track clean energy projects

And that was in addition to:

Codified abortion access in Minnesota

Guaranteed paid sick time and paid family and medical leave

Funded replacing ALL LEAD PIPES IN THE STATE

Free school breakfasts and lunches for all

Made public college free

Stronger labor protections

Drivers’ Licenses for All

Voting Rights Act to reverse recent court rulings that make voting harder, including restored voting rights to convicted felons

Banning medical debt from credit bureaus

The "Taylor Swift Bill" requiring all ticket "junk fees" be shown up front

Banning most "junk fees"

No book bans

Protection for tipped workers

Banned non-competes

Legalized recreational cannabis

Gun control, including increased penalties for straw purchases of firearms, expanded background checks and enacted red-flag laws, passing gun safety measures that the GOP has thwarted for years

Made MN a Trans Refuge State, and required health plans to cover “medically necessary gender-affirming care.”

Pay increase for Uber and Lyft drivers

Elimination of the so-called “gay panic defense”

A ban on “doxxing” election workers

A prohibition on “swatting” elected officials

In March, during the height of the Gaza/uncommitted primary protests against Biden, Walz said that young people should be listened to and they had a right to be speaking up and the situation in Gaza was horrible and intolerable, without directly slamming Biden or getting involved in the issue in a way to draw negative headlines. Regardless of what you think about any of it, that is a very deft way to handle it and pairs well with Kamala's better responsiveness on the Gaza issue overall. That was a big part of the reason why Gen Z/younger voters were very excited about Walz despite him being an "old" (actually the same age as Kamala but he has joked that teaching high school for 20 years will do that to a guy) white guy. If half the battle in politics is making the right pick to excite your core voters and reach out to new ones, then Harris nailed it. As I have said in earlier posts, there was just too much energy with young voters FINALLY checking in when Harris became the candidate, to risk introducing a big ideological split with Shapiro.

Aside from that: the most insufferable Smart White-Bro Political Pundits (TM) are big mad about Walz, many Never Trumper Republicans thought they were entitled to a "moderate" in exchange for oh-so-generously lending us their vote against Trump and not run the risk that we might end up with someone *gasp* progressive, and the regular MAGA Republicans are hysterical, which means they're terrified. It's also incredibly hard to paint Literal Midwestern Stereotype Dad (football coach, social studies high school teacher, military veteran, etc) as THE EVIL END OF AMERICA in the way they desperately want to do, though the fact that they're trying shows that they've got literally nothing. The fact that Kamala picked Walz against the PREVAILING WISDOM!!! that she had to take Shapiro (for whatever reason that might have been) is also a good sign, because by far the most genuine and extensive enthusiasm that I have seen from Democratic voters, especially those feeling burned out or disillusioned or angry with specific policy choices of the current administration, was for Walz. Having everyone excited for the pick beforehand, effectively using the "weird" line, and rallying behind the guy, only for her to actually go for him, is inspiring. It makes people feel like they're being heard and the Democrats have decided to win by being progressive, and not just endlessly Catering To The (Imaginary) Middle as they have always been told to do (and often done). That alone is MASSIVE.

Walz is tremendously funny, personable, has Democrats from AOC to Joe Manchin praising it (again, shocking), was right out the gate supporting Kamala, has already been majorly successful on TV, was by far the most progressive-on-policy picks of the VP finalists, is incredibly, hilariously wholesome and small-town Midwestern (he's the JD Vance that they wish JD Vance was), and is already sending ActBlue gangbusters with donations again. And when you're getting this kind of response on the Cursed Bird Hellsite, just:

Just. I don't know what's happening either. But let's enjoy it, and then work hard, because we gotta fucking do this and for possibly the first time this entire year, I really think we might. Heck yeah.

[sweetiecutie]

AHHHH I NEED MORE KEEGAN IN MY LIFE PLEASE could you write some Keegan h/c?

Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: just general stuff, language, bad driving, NSFW under the cut, mdni, spit kink

A/n: it’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing😌 Keegan is such a bad bitch, he deserves more attention

• Starting off - I’m pretty sure that Keegan would want a civil partner; someone not related to military and actually as far as possible from all the war stuff. First of all, it’s to avoid having constant fear of losing you on the battlefield - it’s a highly dangerous job, sometimes coming out alive is not only a matter of skills, but also pure luck. Secondly, the amount of trauma and emotional damage Keegan carries is more than enough for two people - he needs someone grounded and, well, more stable, someone who will be able to give him a piece of blissful domestic life, faraway from all the constant war Keegan lives in.

• Always referring to you as his girl in conversations with other people or when introducing you to someone new. “That’s Y/n - my girl” “That’s for my girl, she likes pink” “My girl doesn’t like the smell of smoke so I’m trying to quit”. It’s also a way of showing everyone that you’re his - letting others know from the very beginning that you’re taken and no one better try anything with his precious girl, otherwise a few bones will be broken.

• Gives off annoying older brother vibes. He’ll always playfully nag you, and it’ll only become worse once you start dating. Placing stuff on the highest shelves just to watch you struggle to get it yourself, drawing some silly doodles on your notes, messing with your makeup that you spent nearly an hour organising neatly, punching your favourite plushie just to get a rise out of you. And of course, constant bickering! “Keegan, can you pass me that book?” - “Fuck no” *passes the book*. “Keegan, I want some sushi” - “Well shit, what am I supposed to do about that?” *already placing an order online on his phone*

• Another amazing driver here. Keegan has horrible road rage, hitting the car horn aggressively, yelling most intricate insults out the window at whoever that happened to piss him off. I also have a feeling the he drives really fast and reckless, teasing you whenever you ask him to go slower - so you better always buckle up. And yes, he definitely got in a few minor accidents - scratching or leaving indents on other car’s bumper.

NSFW here~*•.

• And while we’re speaking of driving - just imagine giving him a sloppy noisy head while being stuck in a long traffic. Keegan is seething with hot anger, rolling his eyes on other drivers, lack of nicotine adding to his distress. And here’s a sweet lovely you trying your best to make Keegan feel at least a tad bit better, soothing his booming annoyance with your silky tongue swirling around throbbing shaft, cheeks hollowing to provide stronger suction, allowing Keegan to set the pace. And it seemed to work wonders on him - his nape against the headrest of driver’s seat, pretty blue eyes half lidded, staring at the car ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, feeling your throat wrapped around his cock.

• Oh, how nasty he is. Biggest spit kink ever - ordering to open your mouth nice and wide just to spit a thick globe of saliva in it, then closing your jaw and making sure that you swallow it. Will gladly let you spit in his mouth as well; loooves messy wet kisses - either during make out session or after you gave him head, slurping up your spit mixed with his cum from your lips and chin. Very often uses his spit as lube, or telling you to spit in his palm before spreading it all over his needy leaking cock, plunging it deep inside your warmth.

• A horndog. You never have to ask him if he’s in a right mood because yes, he is. He is always in the mood to fuck. Now, he always lets you know that it’s totally fine if you say no - Keegan will never pressure or guilt trap you into any kind of intimacy, no means no. You can always cuddle up together or do something fun like cooking, dancing or simply dorking around. But if your sexdrive happens to match his - oh boy, I’m sorry for your neighbours. Let’s just say - there’s hardly any surface in your flat that you didn’t fuck on.

• It’s nothing new, but this mug is cocky. Like, I don’t think he has unimaginably big dick - not small for sure, but not huge as well; but the way he works with it - a chef’s kiss. Keegan just knows how to angle his hips to massage that one spot within you, how you like your clit to be played with, how he quickly discovers and memorises all the sweetest spots of your body. “Aw, cumming already? I barely touched you, does it feel this good?” - he’d purr, curling three of his long fingers inside of your needy cunny, thumb flicking swollen clit while hot mouth sucks on perked up nipples.

• Daddy kink? Daddy kink😏

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love<3

[prythiansprincess]

CHAPTER ONE

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🤎 pairing: azriel x reader.

🤎 song inspiration: dark matter by rivals.

🤎 author’s note: surprise! it feels strange to be writing for azriel again after such a long break, but here I am returning to my roots. this series has been sitting in my drafts for a year and now i've finally got it fully fleshed out. let's just pray to the cauldron that I actually get the motivation to finish it all the way through.

Every mission required you to play a part.

Over the years, you have worn many faces. The thief. The seductress. The assassin. The dagger in the dark that no one ever saw coming. 

Tonight you were a tavern wench from the Western Isles, eager to attract the attention of a nobleman who hailed from one of the oldest families in the Night Court. Given his societal standing, his voice of dissent against Rhysand and Feyre’s rule and rumored sympathies towards Hybern’s cause had not gone unnoticed. Certainly not by you nor the High Lord and High Lady themselves. 

For Rhysand to send you out to personally deal with the lordling meant that the situation required your level of skill and discretion. The High Lord usually preferred to keep you close to home so you could monitor any potential threats in Velaris, but this pesky little lord had caused enough trouble to warrant your involvement.  

For centuries, you had served the Night Court well. Even before Rhysand assumed power, you moved in the shadows like a phantom, setting matters straight when threats arose and making sure your beloved city was safe.

At present, the threat before you took the shape of a High Fae male, who in all honesty, had a rather lofty opinion of himself. You could tell he was unseasoned and unblooded from the way he carried himself, moving with the ease of someone who had never seen the toils of war and strife. The lordling likely lived in the luxury of grandiose balls and palaces filled with servants tending to his beck and call. No was not a word in his vocabulary. 

He had a pretty face and a cruel mouth, those gray eyes of his raking over your figure with unabashed scrutiny. The dark veil covering your face reveals a sliver of your amber eyes, concealing your identity and drawing him into the mysterious aura you perfectly crafted with ease. 

You had dealt with his type a thousand times over. Males who looked at you like a challenge, a prize to chase after and inevitably conquer before tossing you to the side for the next pretty little thing that crossed their path. Little did he know that once you set your sights on him, his fate was as good as sealed. 

Judging from the finery of his clothes and the gold rings adorning his fingers, this one was a rich little lordling, probably the heir of some cranky old bastard who would have known better than to engage with someone like you. It was glaringly obvious that the male had never learned how to spot an enemy, so he didn’t know any better when he sidled up next to you, completely unaware of the blades concealed underneath the simple cotton dress you were wearing. 

A small smile graced your lips, playing the part of the shy and demure maiden who was unfamiliar with being approached by handsome lords.

Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent underneath it. 

“What does a lord have to do to get a pint around here?” He greeted with a smirk as he slammed down his empty glass. You didn’t miss the way his oily gaze lingered on the swell of your breasts peeking out from your tight corset. 

“It’s on the house, my lord,” you said sweetly while you poured ale from the flagon in your hands, filling his glass with amber liquid. 

The lordling threw the drink back in one gulp and slammed his hand down on the wooden table with a loud smack. From the far end of the tavern, his companions hooted and hollered at his little performance. 

In the three days that you’ve been tracking him, they’ve never left his side. Two of them were his personal guards — trained soldiers who you would’ve liked to toy with if you had the time, but unfortunately your schedule wouldn’t allow for deviations no matter how much you would thoroughly enjoy carving those traitors up. Instead, you settled for incapacitating both males for the rest of the evening. The rest of the lordling’s company was inconsequential, too busy gambling and pulling females into their laps to take note of you. 

“What about you? Are you on the house as well?” 

Your fingers itched to reach for the twin blades sheathed on your hips, but you resisted the urge and offered a smile instead. “I’m afraid not.” 

He grabbed your wrist, pressing his lips close to the shell of your ear. The heady scent of ale was heavy on his breath. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like to lie with a nobleman? I promise I’ll treat you like a lady.”

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, surveying the boisterous crowd in what appeared like self-consciousness, but in reality you were assessing whether or not you would be able to slip out with your mark without anyone noticing.

“But what will your companions think?” 

The lordling chuckled. “They think whatever I pay them to think.” His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “But you need not worry, I have a room all to myself upstairs.”

With one last look at the crowd, you lured the male right into your trap. Pushing those golden curls out of his eyes, your fingers traced the outline of his lips. “In that case, lead the way.”

Compared to the boisterous tavern downstairs, the dark room he ushered you into was quiet and intimate. Clothes were strewn all over the wooden floors and his sheets were unmade. Moonlight streamed in through the glass windowpane, leaving half the room shrouded in night. The male wasted no time and pressed you against the closed door, his eager mouth nipping at your neck impatiently. His hands sidled up your spine, deft fingers tugging at the veil tied behind your head. 

You caught him by the wrist, preventing him from untying the fabric before pushing him towards the bed. “Not so fast, my lord. I need you to savor this.”

Dark, lustful eyes drank you in as you crawled across the mattress, straddling the male and effectively trapping him in a vulnerable position. You lifted his arms over his head, tutting your disapproval as he tried to reach for you. He was so drunk with desire that he didn't even question the rope you pulled out from beneath your skirts.

“Be patient and I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” 

He inhaled sharply, his body thrumming with anticipation beneath you. “You’re no lady, are you?” 

At his words, you unleashed a glimpse of your true self as your lips curved into a seductive grin. “You have no idea.” 

You tied his hands to the bedpost, twisting the rope into a secure knot. Slowly, you unbuttoned his shirt, trailing your fingers down the hard muscles of his chest. The male shivered at your touch, bringing a smile to your lips. He was making this way too easy. 

“I’ve been watching you for days.” You discarded his shirt to the side, making your way down to unbuckle his belt. The bandolier of knives secured around his waist fell to the floor with a soft thud. “You never go anywhere without one of your sentries. You’ve made it very hard for a girl like me to get you alone, my lord.”

“I’m here now,” he responded in a low voice. The fog of lust dancing in those sharp gray eyes clouded his vision.

“Indeed you are. I’ve been waiting a very long time to get you all to myself, Lord Covington.”

At the sound of his name, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I never told you my name.” 

You laughed mockingly. “No, but I know exactly who you are. Declan Covington, heir apparent to the Western Isles. An avid supporter of Hybern’s cause. A loyalist through and through, hiding in plain sight. Your family provided the gold for weapons and supplies to our friends in the West, did they not?” 

He bucked underneath you, pulling at his bound hands. “Who the hell are you?” 

“A friend of the High Lord and High Lady,” you said with a devilish grin. The sharp edge of your blade gleamed against the moonlight as you traced his torso with it. “Rhysand sends his regards.” 

Panic set in his features. “Whatever he’s paying you, I can double it. My family has great fortune. We have connections. Name your price and it’s done.” 

This was always your least favorite part. The bargaining, the pleading. It was all so tedious. 

“You couldn’t afford me if you tried.” Your fingers threaded through his golden hair as you tugged his head backwards. “What you will give me is the name of every family who helped support Hybern’s cause.” 

“Over my dead body,” he said defiantly. 

“I can arrange that, my lord.” Shifting your hips on his lap, you examined his face. You almost felt sorry for him. He looked so young and naive. The lordling didn’t stand a chance against you. “Though I’d hate to waste such a pretty face. Give me their names and I’ll grant you a swift death.”

Anger came next. He spit in your face, which only made you throw your head back in laughter. You always liked the feisty ones. Watching the fight go out of their eyes brought you a sick rush of power. 

“My father will hear about this! He’ll drag your lifeless corpse through our lands and gift your head to me on a golden platter.”

As far as hateful vitriol goes, the little lordling was rather creative, but neither he nor his father could stop what was about to happen. These males were all the same. They never recognized the danger you posed until it was too late. It was a weakness that brought you great pleasure to exploit. 

“I’m afraid your daddy won’t be able to get you out of this one, Lord Covington.” 

Deciding his fate, you untied the veil and let it fall to your lap. His eyes widened in fear and for the first time since he laid eyes on you, the severity of his situation settled into the worried lines on his pretty face. A silhouette of fire materialized from your body as you unleashed the beast within. Your true form was a nightmare personified, murderous and bloodthirsty, composed of the fury and vengeance that you tried so hard to restrain. Tonight, you loosened the reins to give her what she wanted. 

Mine, she whispered as fiery tendrils caressed the lordling’s pretty face. The victims who saw her never lived to tell the tale. 

“You’re her,” he breathed, his voice full of trepidation. “The fire priestess. I thought you were a myth.” 

The crimson slash of your smile served as confirmation. “I’m no one and I will stay that way even after you’re long gone.”

Lord Covington narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t always, were you? You’re the exiled priestess of the Autumn Court. Lady Thorne.” 

Kill, your transfiguration hissed. She hated that name and so did you.

Silence fell upon the room. Whatever pity you might have felt for him vanished at the mention of the girl you used to be. The one who died the minute you crossed the Autumn Court’s borders. 

“Like you said, I’m no lady.” 

You pressed your blade into his cheek and crimson droplets dribbled down the front of his chest. The male shivered as you licked away the blood, savoring the sweet taste of his fear. With crimson dripping from your lips, you opened your mouth and sang. The lordling fell into a daze, his silver eyes clouding over with fog as your voice wrenched through his mental defenses. With a jolt, you invaded his thoughts and drew out his deepest fears. 

Everyone was afraid of something. This little lordling’s weakness was snakes. The spell of the song took hold, making him see what you wanted him to see. Serpents appeared all over Lord Covington’s body, crawling through his arms, tangling in his limbs, and twisting around his neck until he was gasping for air. The illusion was plucked from his own personal version of hell.

A nightmare, that’s what you were. 

The veil of the illusion slipped, swallowed by the living flame of your true form. Whatever fear the serpents invoked paled in comparison to what he felt as he looked upon the monstrosity of the reality before him. A creature of fury, a demon of vengeance.

Lord Covington screamed and begged for his life, but the ward you cast in the room swallowed the sound. No one was coming for help. 

Just then, a pulse of magic thrummed against your wards. You stopped singing and reigned in your flames. Your true form hesitantly retreated into the darkest pits of your heart, rattling against the cage you kept her in. Even as the flames receded, you could still hear the echo of malice. The small taste of blood wasn’t enough. 

It was never enough. Someone was going to pay for the disruption.

Out of instinct, the dagger in your hand sliced through the air. Without missing a beat, the male who materialized out of the darkness caught the blade with precision. He hurled the blade back at you swiftly, making you twist in an uncomfortable angle to snatch it out of the air. 

Glowing hazel eyes appraised you with scrutiny as the familiar silhouette of wings darkened the room, belonging to the tall and lean figure of the warrior standing before you. Cold, beautiful, and utterly lethal, Azriel flashed you a smile that chilled your bones. 

The shadowsinger briefly took in the male squirming beneath you. With a voice like cold death, Azriel’s drawl made your skin crawl with irritation. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to play with your food?” 

Your head whipped in his direction. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

The Illyrian warrior moved in a shroud of darkness, shadows twisting across the dark leathers adorning his powerful form. The blue siphons on his armor glowed brightly, bathing the dark room with a soft cobalt light. Azriel paused at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wooden bedpost with a bemused smirk.

“It’s nice to see you too, princess.” 

The nickname grated your nerves. In fact, everything about Azriel had the same effect. He seemed to have a special talent for getting under your skin.

“Bite me, shadowsinger.”

Whatever sarcastic remark was dancing on the tip of his tongue was interrupted by the male pinned between your thighs. Distracted by your hatred for the spymaster, you nearly forgot that he was even in the room. Freed from the spell of your song, he returned to consciousness and thrashed underneath you. 

Lord Covington released an ear-splitting scream that ravaged his throat. His silver eyes flickered to the shadowsinger, fear and trepidation undulating from him in violent waves. 

“Please,” the lordling pleaded. “Please, get it away from me. Kill me if you must, but please don’t leave me with her — don’t leave me with it —”

“For Cauldron’s sake.”

You drove the hilt of your dagger against the lordling’s forehead and he fell slack, mouth hanging open with unspoken pleas. Rising from the bed, you marched towards Azriel and shoved an accusatory finger at his chest. The action failed to even startle the shadowsinger. If anything, the cock of his head displayed nothing but amusement. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I need you to come with me, Thorne.” You paused for explanation, but none came. Azriel only stared at you as though his vague words were enough to make you drop the mission and go traipsing off with him to the Cauldron knew where. 

You waved your blade in the direction of the unconscious male. “What about him?” 

“What about him?” 

The glare you directed at the shadowsinger would’ve sent lesser males to run off with their tails between their legs, but the Azriel only repaid you with equal venom. Needless to say, the dislike was mutual.

Without warning, Azriel disappeared into a shroud of darkness and the void of his shadows swallowed the lordling along with him. He reappeared a moment later with his arms crossed. The red and golden membrane of his wings shimmered at his back, blocking the only source of light in the room. 

You balled your hands into closed fists. “Where did you take him?” 

“The dungeons.” 

“You had no right! I’ve been tracking him for days. He’s mine.” 

You shoved at his chest again, but Azriel was immovable. His gaze dipped down to your shoulders and you realize with a start that the laces of your corset had come undone, leaving your collar bones exposed. The bloodstone necklace that you never took off peeked out from the swell of your breasts. The shadowsinger’s eyes lingered for a split second before his unrelenting stare flickered back up to your face. 

“There’s other pressing matters at hand. We need to meet the others.”

You fumed with anger. You’ve been working on your mark for days and now thanks to Azriel, you wouldn’t even get to reap the benefits of the hunt. 

“I don’t answer to you, shadowsinger. Rhysand sent me here for a reason and I don’t intend on coming home empty handed.” You screamed in his face and though you’ve always been on the taller side, you barely reached Azriel’s shoulder. He had the nerve to blink as though you were merely conversing about the weather. “Now return the lordling at once or you and I will have a very unpleasant discussion with the High Lord.”

You blanched as he closed the gap between you, his eyes darkening with something unreadable. His voice was smooth and steady, washing over you like shadows given form. 

“Who do you think sent me here?” 

Your mouth fell slack as the shadowsinger held your gaze. You hated it when Azriel looked at you like that. Like you were some sort of puzzle that he was on the verge of deciphering. 

One of his shadows darted towards you, but before it could touch your cheek, Azriel took a step back. Without a second glance, the shadowsinger held out a scarred hand in your direction. 

“Come, princess. The High Lord has need of you.”

[neurospiczzzziee]

Blitzø is actually really good at Art

From an Art Educator Perspective

Okay so I saw some posts on Blitzø actually really enjoying art and that being his passion other than horses. I don't know if in the fandom we have had this consensus or if this is a hot take on my part, but Blitzø is actually really good at drawing.

You may ask why I know this and why I am so confident?

My credibility: I literally specialize in it.

I am a professional artist. I am a High School Art Teacher, who got their degree in art education and attended a well acclaimed art school.

(Self-taught artists are extremely valid and you do not need to go to art school to be an "actual artist". I am bringing up my background to show that I have a lot of knowledge of the development of fine motor skills and the ranges of art abilities and how to further improve them.)

As an educator, if Blitzø was a student and I saw Blitzø's drawings/doodles I would automatically recognize that he was actually advanced in abilities. Based on looking at his drawings I can tell if he were to actually take his time and focus on something he could create really beautifully detailed/rendered artwork.

You may ask how I know this??? I'm glad you asked.

THE AMOUNT OF LINE QUALITY THAT IS DEMONSTRATED IN BLITZØ'S DRAWINGS IS INSANE.

✨Art Lesson time✨

Okay so everyone learning to draw goes through the necessary stages of development

I'm just going to give humans as an example because obviously this is a fictional demon we are talking about.

Generally everyone goes through these stages as they grow and work on learning to draw. (Prodigies are extremely rare and I've only seen one once)

Art skills are like a sport. You need to train in order to develop fine motor abilities and control in your hands. The more you draw and do art the more you gain control of your muscles. It takes a lot of time and years of work to improve.

When a person's fine motor skills aren't as developed their lines tend to be shaky and they have less control. The more a person draws the better their line control becomes.

(Think of when you were little and you were first learning how to write)

The way I can tell how advanced Blitzø is, is through his line quality.

Now what is Line Quality?

This is a screenshot from this wonderful article

So in Blitzø's artwork he very much illustrates good Line control, force, thickness, and fluidity.

Okay first of all I want to Mention

THAT BLITZØ IS DRAWING IN PEN. You can tell this because different parts of the Calendar are crossed out with his scribbles. Also anybody with a calendar knows you have to write with a pen.

LOOK AT HOW CLEAN, FLUID AND CONFIDENT THESE LINES ARE DESPITE THAT HE IS DRAWING IN PEN!???

My assumption is that Blitzø is not using a reference for these drawings. You could make the argument that he has photos for M&M, Loona, and Stolas; however, he definitely does not have a photo of Striker.

I want to mention how dynamic of a pose he is drawing people in. He isn't avoiding hands at all. All of the hands are relatively accurate (Strikers especially).

In these drawings you see variation in line weight meaning parts of his lines are thicker to thinner. So Blitzø is purposely pressing harder and lighter to show variation and depth. His lines are very clean. I don't see repetitive Stokes and lines for the shapes. He is really confident with his mark making and you can tell because his lines aren't shaky at all.

By looking at his line quality and how clean it is you can tell he drew it quickly.

Not to mention he actually has a huge range of items he can draw confidently including and not limited to horses, weapons, leashes, cars, demons, and of course genitalia.

Blitzø isn't what you call a one trick pony 🐴 when it comes to what he can draw.

You can see this skill demonstrated in his other doodles.

You can even see this ability demonstrated in his drawings on the whiteboard

Okay anybody who has drawn on a whiteboard knows that they are difficult to draw on.

Whiteboards smear and are very streaky. In this photo you can tell where Blitzø made a mistake or changed information. Notice that none of his drawings have any smears. That means he did these drawings in literally one take.

I also want to mention his drawings in spring breakers. He is speed drawing directions and illustrating a plan perfectly to his employees.

HE IS LITERALLY RAPID FIRE SPEED DRAWING HERE

His drawing of Veroskika which he DREW FROM MEMORY.

Demonstrates the following:

Line control, Line Confidence, Line Fluidity, Variation in Line weight, and still has relatively correct proportions!?

Basically shut up MOXIE?!!! He did a good job!

Why have we not seen more detailed Blitzø artwork?

Okay so I as we know in the show Blitzø puts his doodles everywhere. So if he is good at Art why isn't he showing his artwork he spent a long time on????

The answer: he's insecure

Showing someone your art is a very vulnerable action. This is especially true if you spent a long time on it.

If someone doesn't like or makes fun of your doodle you can brush it off and be like well it's only a sketch and I did it in under 5 min.

It's a lot easier to show someone a silly little horse drawing you did than something you poured your heart and soul into.

We already are aware that Blitzø is insecure and has self-esteem issues. He literally covers his face in the photos of himself throughout his apartment. He is a very guarded individual. Of course he wouldn't show people the art he spent hours on. What if people reject them? They judge him for spending that much time? What if they see how much he actually loves them?

Blitzø feels like the kind of person who would crumple up or destroy his art that he spends long amounts of time on. It's a way of self-sabotaging yourself and further self-loathing.

Now do I think he has these hours long art pieces/drawings????

ABSOLUTELY

My guess is that Blitzø most likely has a hidden sketchbook. Artists tend to draw their loved ones and especially their children and partners.

There is no doubt in my mind that Blitzø hasn't been doing long observational drawings of Stola's especially when he is sleeping.

He has most likely been drawing Loona all the time. Why do you think he takes all the photos? Those are his references. He has probably been drawing detailed artwork of his loved ones this whole time (and of course horses too lol).

In conclusion

Blitzø actually can draw really well because his doodles demonstrate high levels of skill in line quality.

Going forward I would really appreciate if someone actually finds Blitzø's sketchbook or portfolio of his artwork he spent large amounts of time on. It would be really cute. It would be adorable if Loona or Stolas found them.

Blitzø could gain more confidence and put is artwork he really cares about on display 🥺

I also just want Moxie to find out and eat his words. (Guys I swear I don't hate Moxie 😂)

Thank you for joining me here today on my Ted talk on how I think Blitzø is actually a talented artist. I'm just an art teacher who has problems with how much helluva boss lives in rent free in my head.

[chimimon]

Just Hold Still

Astarion x f!Reader

Word Count 1.7k

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: fluff! melancholic fluff and impatience!

& what I have to say is… I hate the Underdark Act 2. But I like it better Act 1. But I hate the Underdark and wish that everyone in this forsaken wasteland dies either by my hand or... well actually no I will singlehandedly wipe out everyone in that joint if I have to. But besides Baldur's Gate I decided to take this hyper fixation on such a bratty vampire as an opportunity to create the art that a high school Honors Art course burnt out of me. Needless to say that drawing him is making me delusional...

“You’ve spent an awfully long time staring at my nose.” In the late evening sun insecurity bled from Astarion’s tone as he watched you diligently map out whatever it was that needed to be adjusted this time. 

You leaned in, “I want this to be as accurate as possible...” Tracing the space between his brows in the air before repeating the movement on the paper. “So, shush for a second.” 

Astarion flattened his eyes. He was beginning to feel restless, and you were trying to be very patient with him as he unconsciously lost interest in holding still. “You doing that is going to change your whole face, my love.” 

“Seriously, darling?” 

“Yes.” You peeked over your journal. “Seriously, darling.” 

Astarion sighed and did his best to revert into his less impatient pose. 

  After watching you draw portraits from memory, Astarion marveled at your skillful pastime. There was a fluidity in your art, in how you mapped out faces and their intricate details. Sometimes he would watch you go over the same lines after erasing them repeatedly and wondered what his untrained eye was missing. “That line looks almost identical,” he would comment over your shoulder or “I thought you already adjusted that eye.” Very kindly you would explain the seemingly meaningless adjustments to him, and Astarion would nod and hum in feigned understanding. 

The request for his portrait was rhetorical. You weren’t meant to say yes, and it wasn’t meant to make him anxious. After spending so long in the dark of his reflection, Astarion now sat in his velvet cushioned stool unsure if he wanted you to stop drawing or if he wanted you to hurry up. It almost felt like being on a first date as he held still and somewhat patiently waited as you worked. Occasionally he would glance over at you on the floor while you studied his face and shoulders, leaning in with a closed eye and your pencil to measure features that were muddled in his mind. He could tell when you didn’t like how something was when you got off your bottom and stood up on your knees to get even closer to the feature in question. You lit a candle as the sun began to set, and focused on his mouth before you lost all the daylight. 

“Soft,” you whispered to yourself. 

Astarion lifted his brows at your steady stare. “Are you asking if they are?” Without a response from you, he lowered his eyelids and grinned. “Did you want to feel them for yourself-?” 

“Your cupids bow.” The tip of your pencil tickled his upper lip as he scrunched his nose and jerked back. “It’s softer than I originally drew…” The obvious invitation to kiss him flew right over your head. 

“Darling,” he tried again. 

“Yes?” You slowly withdrew from his mouth to his eyes. 

The sincere look in your eyes stirred something in his chest as he thought of what to say. His confidence faltered but regardless he leaned in again to cup your chin. You just as quickly retracted with wide eyes and a nervous smile.

“Oh,” like a switch his confidence was glowing. “So, you get to be a mere inch away from my lips but I can’t close the distance?” 

You avoided his heavy watch as you sat back down, shyly grinning. “Sorry.” 

“For?” 

“Being so close.” You sighed. 

He tiled his head. “My sweet, I just want a kiss.” 

“And I just want to draw your lips.” Your knowing grin and thinning patience were apparent in your slouched position. “I promise to kiss you when this is...” your tone died, “finished.” 

With a slight shake of your head, you got right back to drawing. After five minutes Astarion had unconsciously moved again, and you had to ask him to lift his chin up. He couldn’t sit still. Every time you gave yourself some quiet praise, he held his breathe thinking he’d get to see the finished piece until you quickly moved to the other side of the paper. Then his leg started bouncing which quickly caught your attention. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“Hmm?” Astarion didn’t notice until the end of your pencil gestured to his knee. “Oh, sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine,” you set the paper on the table beside him. With the pencil overtop and the blank side up you were up on your knees again. “If you want to stretch that’s fine,” you cracked your knuckles and rolled your head. “Or did you want to finish this up tomorrow?” 

“No!” Astarion gently but quickly placed his hand over yours. “I mean it’s fine. I can sit still some more.” 

A small laugh escaped your lips as you pulled your hand away. “Some more,” you lightly teased while reaching for your supplies. “I’m almost done with the shading. It’s just your hair.” 

“What about my hair?” 

“Nothing. Er-well,” Astarion looked bored and made a face. “I just have trouble with light hair. It’s the shading, or lack thereof.” You said thoughtfully. “Now hold still.” 

Nothing about his hair seemed to be right to you. Scribbling, erasing, with more scribbling and erasing. Astarion had dropped his head a couple times as ten minutes turned into twenty before he combed his hand through his hair and nearly misplaced every curly strand.  

“Astarion.” You said flatly. 

He sighed and stretched. “Let me get my comb,” he stood up. 

You waited as he brushed his hair back into place before you got right back to the scribbling and erasing. 

“I appreciate you doing all this. But is my hair that awful to draw?” 

“Do you want it to be perfect?” 

“Hmm,” Astarion asked himself sarcastically. “I mean, yes that would be nice.” 

With a deep breath in you crinkled your nose in growing annoyance. “It would be. So be patient.” 

After two minutes he started flirting. “I feel like you might be dragging this out on purpose. I’ve been told I’m easy on the eyes, aren’t I?” When you silently looked at him, tilting your head and sighing, he continued. “I mean honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t ask to draw me first. But clearly, if you’re having a hard time capturing my ever-lasting undead beauty why not just-” 

“Have Shadowheart cast ‘Hold Person’? Yeah, that’s getting tempting.” 

He snorted. “Don’t be snippy, darling.”  

“Well, if you’re going to be noisy...” The best smile you could give him was in the shape of a thin line. 

Astarion nostrils flared as he thought about it, muttering the spell to himself with folded arms.  

“Don’t do that.” Without looking up from your paper you said, “I can tell you’ve moved again.” 

“My head didn’t move.” 

“Unfold your arms.” Was said as a soft warning that blanketed the frustration in his attitude but as well as your skills. “Please.” 

He groaned. “Fine. But how much longer-“ 

“Astarion,” you snapped onto your knees into his lap, or more between his knees. “Good Gods, I swear on if you cannot sit still for 5 minutes without moving, I-” A forcibly calm breath in interrupted your threat, and a moment of quiet let you come back to him. “I don’ know… I know I’ve kept you waiting long enough and I want to be finished too.” You admitted. 

Astarion was speechless as he watched the careful studious nature of your eyes dim into insecurity. “I-I’m sorry, my love.” He leaned in on his knees. 

“No, it’s not you.” Your smile seemed genuine. “I just want to you know what I see when I look at you.” 

“Surely you mean my timeless and again, undying beauty?” A raised brow teased. 

Something in his still heart fluttered around as you met his gaze, smiling still as you shyly shrugged your shoulders. 

“I knew I upset you when I mentioned your smile lines and the curl of your hair around your ears.” You set the portrait in your lap, but Astarion did not care to look as you spoke. “But I love that there’s proof of your striking smile. And that proof creases around your eyes. Speaking of your deep, red eyes. Gods, they could put me in a trance. They have.” Your eyes had gone over every feature you mention, and he watched as your gaze now connected with his. “And when I called you beautiful, I meant it.” You quickly looked away. “The whole of you is bewitchingly beautiful in my eyes, my love.”  

Astarion could feel whatever blood he had in his body rush to his cheeks and ears. The attention you paid him now was bordering too much. Looking down to see the pure adoration on your face felt embarrassing. But before he could think he reached out to cup your face. 

“My sweet…” he let out in a low hum. 

“Even now, just looking at all the things that make you up is enough for me.” 

In wide eyes and a shyness that showed, Astarion had trouble putting up his usual act. “Here I was, scared I had really upset you this time.” He said too sincerely. 

The snake of your head side-to- side eased him. “You did.” A grin made it easy to get back into the swing of things. 

“Well, I guess I can sit still a little longer if you can keep that lavish flattery going.” But he held his breath as you looked over the paper. 

“I could say, and honestly, I think I am done with your portrait.” You sounded unsure of yourself, but you knew that you couldn’t adjust his likeness forever. “Yeah… I’m sorry for the lack of speed in skill.” Like a little kid handing out a valentine, you bashfully placed it on his lap before covering your mouth in wait.

Astarion flipped it slowly, feeling unsure of seeing his likeness for the first time in just under three-hundred years. As he traced over his features with his eyes and carved the image to memory, he felt his own face with his hands and a pensive grin. Under his fingers simultaneous with his study, he felt those smile lines you admired; his soft cupids bow you traced and the tip of his nose you struggled with. “I wish I could honestly tell you that this looks just like me, but this-this is...” melancholy stained his tone as he found the words. “Thank you.” 

At some point you stood beside him, watching as he looked up to you. “I tried.”

Astarion quickly wrapped an arm around your hips, bringing you close as he pushed his cheek on the top of your tummy. He stared through his lashes with a toothy grin. “Well, we can confirm with the group just how true to me this portrait is, later. But right now, I think I remember my sweet treat promising me a kiss.” 

© 2024 chimimon

[deezee112]

The child Doll

Chapter 2

Yandere!Twisted Wonderland x GN!Reader

A/N : I got inspired by @kansetsu001 on Twitter while I was reading the pictures he used to draw. I got this idea. But this is just something I thought of for fun. I hope you like my little idea.

Warning : This story contains themes of psychological tension , unease , an unsettling relationship dynamic between a protagonist and a mysterious humanoid object , y/n is a hot-tempered and tall person.

English is not my first language.

you sighed, pinching the bridge of you nose as the clock ticked past 6:00 PM. The office, dimly lit and mostly deserted, hummed faintly with the sound of ancient computers and the distant clicking of a few remaining coworkers' keyboards. You leaned back in you chair, you frown deepening.

Four years working under Dire Crowley had conditioned you to expect little in the way of fairness and less in the way of sanity. He was a man who thrived on chaos, throwing his subordinates into bizarre, ill-defined projects while swooping in at the last minute to claim the credit—or shift the blame.

" Y/N, can you come to my office? " his voice crackled over the intercom, interrupting you train of thought.

you rolled you eyes, muttering, "What now?" before dragging youself to you feet. you tall, imposing figure and perpetually frowning face had earned you a reputation as someone you didn’t mess with. Yet, despite you intimidating demeanor, you prided herself on efficiency and pragmatism—qualities Crowley never seemed to value.

The walk to his office felt unnecessarily long. you wasn’t in the mood for whatever nonsense he’d concocted this time, but you curiosity was piqued when you noticed the odd stillness in the air. Normally, Crowley’s office was a hub of noise—papers rustling, phones ringing, his voice booming with unwarranted confidence. Today, it was eerily quiet.

Pushing open the door, you found Crowley seated at his desk, a smug smile plastered across his face. Beside him stood a large, ornate box.

“ Ah, Y/N! My most reliable employee! ” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

You raised an eyebrow. “ What’s this about? ”

Crowley gestured theatrically toward the box. “ I have a very special task for you. One that requires someone of your… unique disposition. ”

You crossed her arms. “ Get to the point, Crowley. ”

His smile widened as he lifted the lid of the box, revealing what appeared to be a doll. But it wasn’t like any doll you had ever seen. It was life-sized, with eerily realistic features—soft skin, glassy eyes that seemed to follow you every movement, and hair that looked and felt disturbingly real.

“ What the hell is that? ” you asked, you with suspicion.

“ This, my dear Y/N, is a revolutionary creation! A child doll unlike any other. It’s capable of eating, sleeping, and reacting just like a real human child. And you, lucky you, have been chosen to take care of it! ”

You stared at him, incredulous. “ You’ve got to be kidding me. ”

“ I assure you, this is no joke. It’s an important project! Top secret! And who better to handle it than my most dedicated employee? ”

“ Dedicated or expendable? ” you shot back.

Crowley chuckled nervously. “ Oh, don’t be so dramatic. This is a marvelous opportunity! Think of it as…..fostering innovation! ”

You narrowed her eyes at him. “ What’s the catch? ”

“ No catch! Well, apart from the fact that you’ll need to keep this little one with you at all times. It’s crucial for the experiment, you see. ”

You pinched the bridge of you nose again, you patience wearing thin. “ Let me get this straight. You want me to take care of this creepy, overly realistic doll— ”

“ child doll ” he corrected.

“ Whatever. You want me to play house with this thing, and you think that’s a normal, reasonable request? ”

Crowley waved dismissively. “ Oh, Y/N, don’t be so cold-hearted. Think of it as a new challenge! You’re always saying you want to expand your skill set. ”

“ I’ve never said that ” you deadpanned.

But Crowley wasn’t listening. He was already bustling around, preparing to hand over the doll. “ Now, its name is—well, it doesn’t have one yet! You can name it whatever you like. It’s designed to adapt to its caretaker’s habits and preferences. Isn’t that fascinating? ”

You stared at the doll. Its eyes seemed to glimmer with an unsettling awareness. you didn’t trust it or Crowley but you knew arguing was pointless. He’d either guilt you into accepting or find a way to dump the task on you regardless.

“ And if I refuse? ” you asked, crossing arms.

Crowley’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “ Oh, Y/N you wouldn’t leave poor little me in a bind, would you? This is a once-in-a-lifetime project! Think of the company’s reputation! and Think of your reputation! ”

You sighed heavily. “ Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I don’t want to hear you whining about it later. ”

“ Splendid! ” Crowley beamed, practically shoving the doll into you arms. “ Now, take good care of it. I’ll check in periodically to see how things are going. ”

You scowled but didn’t bother arguing further. You glanced down at the doll cradled awkwardly in you arms. It was heavier than you expected, and its skin felt disturbingly warm to the touch.

“ This is going to be a nightmare ” you muttered under you breath as you left Crowley’s office.

Back at your apartment, you set the doll down on you couch, glaring at it as if it were responsible for your predicament. You barely had time to process the absurdity of you new task before you phone buzzed with a message from Crowley.

Don’t forget! It needs to be fed, bathed, and put to bed on a strict schedule. Oh, and don’t let anyone else see it! Confidentiality is key!

You're groaned, tossing you phone onto the coffee table. “ Great. Just what I needed parenting advice from a man who can’t even manage an office. ”

The doll sat eerily still, its glassy eyes fixed on you. Despite you frustration, You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching you.

Shaking you head, you grabbed a blanket and threw it over the doll. “ Out of sight, out of mind. ”

But as the night wore on, you found youself glancing at the covered figure more often than you cared to admit. Something about it unnerved you, though you couldn’t quite put you finger on why. ( She's just a little tsundere🥺 )

When you finally crawled into bed, exhaustion tugging at you, you muttered to youself, “ It’s just a doll. No big deal. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out how to deal with this mess. ”

But deep down, you knew this wasn’t going to be as simple as Crowley had made it sound.

You woke to the faint sound of something rustling in the living room. You froze, Had you left a window open? Was it a burglar?

You Grabbing a heavy book from you nightstand, you crept toward the noise, you heart pounding.

When you entered the living room, you stopped dead in you tracks. The blanket Your thrown over the doll was on the floor, and the doll itself was sitting upright, its head tilted slightly as if observing You.

You grip tightened on the book. “ Okay, that’s creepy. Did Crowley install some kind of remote control in you? ”

The doll didn’t respond, of course, but its lifelike appearance made you unease grow.

You approached cautiously, picking up the blanket and draping it over the doll again. “ You stay put. I don’t have time for your nonsense. ”

As you turned to make coffee, you phone buzzed again. Another message from Crowley.

Don’t forget to check its morning routine! It’s designed to respond to kindness and care.

You scoffed, pouring youself a mug of coffee. “ Kindness and care, my ass. He just wants me to babysit his creepy science experiment. ”

But as the minutes passed, you couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that you should at least check on the doll. Begrudgingly, you set your mug down and returned to the living room.

“ All right, let’s get this over with. ”

You lifted the blanket again, half expecting the doll to have moved. To you relief and mild disappointment it was exactly where you left it.

Still, as you looked into its unnervingly realistic eyes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far stranger than Your signed up for.

[wolvietxt]

Congrats on 1000!!!!! 🥳

How about Daryl with this prompt? ❤️

secret talent: sunshine finds out grumpy has a hidden skill, like playing an instrument or drawing. sunshine keeps encouraging them to show it off, and grumpy tries to act like it’s no big deal but secretly enjoys the praise

THE CABIN smelled faintly of wood smoke and pine, cozy and warm as you settled into the couch with your cup of tea. daryl was at the far end of the room, tinkering with his crossbow, muttering something about the sights being off. it was a quiet evening, the kind you’d come to cherish out here in the middle of nowhere.  

that’s when you noticed it - a sketchbook poking out of the half-open drawer by the desk. it wasn’t like daryl to leave things out of place, and your curiosity got the better of you.  

“what’s this?” you asked, standing up and plucking the book from the drawer.  

his head snapped up immediately, eyes narrowing. “don’t go diggin’ through my stuff.”  

“it was already sticking out,” you said, flipping it open before he could stop you. your breath caught at the first page - a detailed drawing of a deer mid-leap, its muscles and fur rendered with startling precision.  

“daryl,” you breathed, glancing at him. “you drew this?”  

he grunted, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “ain’t nothin’ special.”  

“are you kidding me? this is amazing!” you walked over, flipping through more pages. there were sketches of birds, trees, even a portrait of carol that captured her sharp eyes and soft smile perfectly.  

“stop,” he muttered, reaching for the book, but you held it away, grinning.  

“why didn’t you tell me you could draw? you’re so talented!”  

his ears turned red, and he scowled. “it ain’t no big deal. just somethin’ i do sometimes.”  

“not a big deal? this is incredible.” you sat beside him, laying the sketchbook on your lap and pointing to a drawing of a bear. “look at this! the detail, the shading… you’re an artist, daryl.”  

“i ain’t no artist,” he grumbled, but there was a flicker of something in his expression - pride, maybe, or at least a hint of satisfaction.  

you leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “you should show people these. they’d love them.”  

he stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. “nah. ain’t for showin’ off. just for me.”  

“well, i love them,” you said, turning the page to a sketch of a rabbit. “and i love you.”  

his hand settled on your knee, rough and warm. “you’re just sayin’ that.”  

“no, i mean it. you’ve got a real gift, daryl.”  

he was quiet for a moment, then let out a soft huff. “well don’t you go makin’ a big deal outta it.”  

you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “too late.”  

the evening went on, with you occasionally flipping through the sketchbook and gushing over his work while he tried to act annoyed. but you could see the way his lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile.  

later, as you were cleaning up the mugs from your tea, you caught him at the desk, pencil in hand, sketching something new. you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting your chin on his head.  

“what are you working on?”  

“nothin’.”  

you peeked over his shoulder, grinning when you saw the beginnings of a sketch - your face, soft lines shaping your features.  

“that’s me,” you said, your voice filled with wonder.  

“don’t get all mushy,” he muttered, but he didn’t stop drawing.  

“too late,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his temple.  

he finally set the pencil down, turning to face you. his blue eyes were softer than usual, and his hands settled on your hips. “you really like ‘em?”  

“daryl,” you said, cupping his face. “i love them. and i love you.”  

his lips twitched again, and this time, he didn’t bother hiding the smile. “guess i don’t mind hearin’ that.”  

you leaned in, capturing his mouth in a kiss, slow and sweet. his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. when you finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and rough.  

“you’re somethin’ else, you know that?”  

“so are you,” you whispered, your heart full as you kissed him again.  

[kykyonthemoon]

rafayel and xavier with a reader that gets so stressed out she breaks down sobbing? 🥹

(and zayne if you want)

Soothing

Thank you for requesting!

🌻 Character x F!Reader

Masterlist

Part 2 - Comforting (for Sylus & Caleb)

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

When you entered the studio, Rafayel was resting on the sofa with his eyes closed.

“You're back already? How was the meeting with your old friends?"

He got to his feet just in time to witness the pearl-like tears that were cascading from your eyes. You quickly wiped it away, but Rafayel immediately came to your side and held your wrist.

"What's wrong? Did someone bully you?”

You hiccuped loudly. Rafayel wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his arms. "Tell me. Who dares to make my bodyguard cry?

You leaned against Rafayel, a cheek pressed against his chest. His heart rate shot through the roof, then steadily stabilized. The sound of his heart pounding was what you loved listening to, as it soothed you.

Waiting for your sobbing to pass, then you added:

“Sometimes being around other people is so tiring.”

Rafayel took a small step back. His hands circled your neck and raised your chin just enough to make you meet his gaze.

“Are… Are you sick of me? You're about to leave me again, is that true?"

You had to giggle at the pathetic and sulky look on his face. Rafayel was drawn closer by your arms encircling his hips, and you said:

"No. I'm talking about my group of friends. As for you, Rafayel, you are not even human.”

“That's right.” Rafayel exclaimed as his face brightened. “Then you don't have to be sad. If you no longer have friends on land, you still have fish in the aquarium, and in the sea. Fishies are waaaayyyy better than humans. Especially a particular fish that knows how to draw, sing and make you laugh.”

This time you laughed out loud, cracking in the room filled with Rafayel's artwork. He was right; you always had him and the ocean for company. You did not have to try to please everyone, but just the people who were most important to you.

“Thank you, Rafayel.” With a little tiptoe, you kissed his cheek, causing his face to flush.

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

As soon as you left the practice area, you caught a glimpse of Xavier waiting outside. You did your best to conceal the tears that were ready to fall, but they were still visible to him.

“What's the matter?”

"Nothing." With a forced smile, you replied. Of course, Xavier did not believe that.

“Are your test results not good?”

He had got you, so you just stared down at the ground. You were trying my best to stay calm, but all you wanted to do was cry out loud in his arms.

Seeming to know that, Xavier pulled you close. His hand gently stroked your hair, pausing now and again to pat your shoulder as a gesture of comfort.

“I… I've been practicing for months… And yet… I still couldn't pass that test…”

"It's not that bad. There haven't been many Hunters who had successfully completed that test. No need to be so harsh with yourself. You did very well, and you are always the best Hunter.”

Feeling Xavier's arms tighten, you sobbed again. It wasn't enough to simply aspire to the top; you also wanted to succeed in every test and every challenge. Given Xavier's level of expertise as a Hunter, you wanted to show that you were strong enough to accompany him and shield him without letting him worry about you everywhere, all the time.

Xavier waited for you to finish crying before gently suggesting:

“You know, getting plushies from claw machines is also a way to practice skills.”

“You just said that to cheer me up.”

However, when you thought about the cute plushies waiting to be taken home, you suddenly felt calmer. Why not, when the most adorable plushie in the world was standing in front of you, eyes wide open as if he was pleading with you to accompany him to the arcade?

“Are you sure you want to miss the special edition plushies this week?”

Xavier asked. You replied with a shake of your head.

"Of course you won't. Let's go then. The greatest Hunter in Linkon cannot be outplayed by any claw machine."

With a smile on your face, you held his hand. You might have failed this test, but you already won Xavier's heart.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

You did not say anything to Zayne the whole way home. Yet Zayne remained silent, concentrating on driving without even asking you a single question, even though he knew just by looking at your face, you had had a very bad day.

The intense work made you exhausted. You had been under constant stress for around two weeks straight. The number of Wanderers appearing more and more seriously caused you to take on extra shifts, but that was nothing compared to the paperwork you had to report, or the secret meetings that lasted for hours.

Somewhere in your crazy schedule, you still hoped to receive a call, a text message from Zayne. But when you saw nothing on the phone screen, your heart sank even though you knew Zayne's work was very busy these days.

In any case, you were grateful that he took you home and agreed to cook dinner for you today. You decided not to let your stress bother him. But as soon as he put the bag of food on the kitchen counter, Zayne pulled you back and gave you a strong embrace from behind.

“Z-Zayne?” You were startled and couldn't move because he held you so tightly.

“Now, can you tell me what’s on your mind?”

His whispering voice and his warm breath made one of your ears turn red. You were confused:

“You noticed?...”

There was a sigh coming from behind you. Zayne let go of you, then turned you around to face him.

“I didn't ask, because I expected you to tell me everything only when you wanted first.”

The number of patients visiting Akso Hospital has also increased dramatically in recent days. Regular overtime work was required of Zayne. Yet he still maintained a calm attitude in all situations. Every day and every hour, he always tried to be better, to save more people. You should do the same and become stronger.

You sat up straight to look into his eyes. A smile flashed across Zayne's lips. He lifted your chin and wiped your face with a tissue.

"Do not be sad. A smile is much better on your face."