#well not dire nor need but I just wanted a change

[boiled-bronze]

The Rivulet!!

[kavehater]

I’ll never understand younger siblings whining about their older siblings moving away like I bet yall were nasty and annoying too like wow all those years and you claim to adore the older sibling and post oh woe is me the older sibling abandoned me … girl … the older sibling didn’t have a parental certificate or anything.

[dixons-sunshine]

Look At Me | Scud Frohmeyer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Scud never wanted you to get hurt. If he had known what would happen, he never would’ve let you out of his sight. However, there was nothing he could do to change what happened, and he could only hope that you could keep your eyes open long enough until he could help you.

Genre: Angst.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, injuries.

Word count: 1.1k.

A/N: Is Scud potentially ooc in this? Yes. Do I care? Not really. I need some soft!Scud in my life. Also, I just had a lot of feelings and placed it into this as a way to feel a bit better. I think this is the first story I’ve ever written that had a ‘cliffhanger’ ending. Might expand on it, might not. Guess y’all will have to wait until next Saturday to see. Anyways, (not-so) happy Scud Saturday!

Joshua “Scud” Frohmeyer was rarely a serious man. He had a care free spirit and a positive outlook on life. You would rarely catch the stoner without a huge grin on his face. It took a lot for him to drop his happy, free spirited demeanour.

So when Scud was unable to crack a joke to lighten up the dire situation you were in, you knew that your predicament was worse than you would have liked.

“Shh, it’s okay. I got you. I got you. You’re gonna be just fine, Baby. I promise.”

Despite his attempts at reassuring you, your whimpers of pure, unadulterated agony did not cease, nor did your shivers from being absolutely soaked from the rain you had been carried through to get to the van. However, the man that held you within his own soaked, shivering embrace could not find it in himself to blame you. Those vampires that had kidnapped you had done quite the number on your emotional and physical well-being, so it came as no surprise that you were unable to hide the extent of your pain. And each turn and bump of the vehicle the half-blooded day walker was driving only further accentuated your misery. Scud tried his absolute best to try to keep you as comfortable as he possibly could, but his attempts were proving to be futile.

“It hurts,” you cried, tears streaming from your eyes. Your battered and bruised form screamed in protest when you tried to move to make yourself more comfortable, punishing your efforts by sending out more waves of pain through out your body. “Josh...” you trailed off with a quiet whimper, your hand tightening its grip on your boyfriend’s bigger one.

In answer, Scud gently rubbed his thumb over your bruised knuckles, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead, his other hand continuing to put pressure on your wound. “I know, Baby. Just hold on a bit longer, okay? We’re almost there. We’re gonna fix you up real good, I promise.”

You could not find it in yourself to argue with him. You could feel your eyes growing heavier with each second that ticked away on the metaphorical clock, the darkness luring you to its comforting depths like a siren’s song. The blood that gushed from the horrible wound in your abdomen dripped down onto the floor of the van, making you acutely aware of the reality that your injury wasn’t as minor as Scud had tried to make it out to be. You attempted to bring yourself into a seated position to peer down and examine the true extent of the injury Scud had his hand pressed against, but your boyfriend stopped you.

“Nah, don’t look at it,” he told you, his eyebrows furrowed together. Never before had you seen Scud look quite so serious. His light, care free attitude had been what made you fall head over heels for him in the first place. It took a great deal for him to lose his usual nonchalant demeanour, so that was all the confirmation you needed that you were in a dire situation.

Not that you needed that as confirmation, however. Your aching body already did quite the impressive job of telling you so regardless.

You let out a small, bitter laugh, the action sending a wave of pain throughout your body. “I’m going to die,” you whispered, your previous laugh being contradicted with the tears that fell from your eyes.

That comment sent Scud into a spiral. He vigorously shook his head at your statement. “You ain’t gonna die. Not on my watch.” He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself. He willed the tears that formed in his eyes away, well aware that you needed him to be strong. However, when he opened his eyes again, his heart stopped when he saw your eyes begin to droop. “No. No, look at me. Just look at me.” He gently grabbed your chin in one of his calloused, work-worn hands and forced you to look at him. “Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes. Think of something to keep you awake.”

“Like what?” you asked him softly. His hand fell away from your face, his arms instead wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into him.

Scud desperately wracked his mind to come up with something. Then, something clicked in his mind. “What’s my word of the day?”

His word of the day. Despite the fact that the man had the brains of Einstein when it came to conjuring up bombs from body lotion and talking about whatever came with fixing up vehicles, you had quickly realized that he oftentimes used words in the wrong context. So in exchange for being taught how to build flamethrowers and other cool things that came with it, you vowed to help improve his vocabulary.

You tried to wrack your hazy mind for a word you had yet to use, thankfully landing on one you, too, had only recently discovered the meaning of. “Abstruse,” you managed to murmur.

“Abstruse?” Scud repeated, his head tilting to showcase his confusion, an action you always found too adorable. “What’s that mean?”

You hesitated for a moment, attempting to recapture your breath that was steadily shortening. “It means ‘difficult to understand’.”

“Oh. Think you can use it in a sentence for me?”

You knew what Scud was doing. He was doing everything in his power to keep you awake. “Sure,” you wheezed, a cough wracking through your body. You knew that wasn’t a good sign, but you chose not to comment on it. Thinking about your current predicament would only make you spiral. Your tears hadn’t stopped, but had slowed down considerably, possibly due to the fact that the pain in your body had given way to a woozy feeling instead—another sign that you weren’t going to last much longer. “So, uh, abstruse. ‘Your handwriting made the letter abstruse’, so basically, ‘your handwriting made the letter difficult to understand’...” you trailed off, your eyes drooping closed against your will.

Scud let out a small chuckle at that. “Is that supposed to be a jab at my handwriting? Y’know I’ve been working on improvin’ it, Sweetheart.” When you didn’t respond, Scud looked down at you. His heart stopped when he saw your closed eyes. “Y/N? Baby?” He gently shook you a couple of times, desperately trying to wake you up, but to no avail. “Y/N!” His heart began to pound against his chest. He leaned forward and hit the metal of the van a couple of times. “B, ya gotta hurry the fuck up! Now!” He turned his attention back to you, the tears now falling freely from his cerulean eyes. He put more pressure against your wound, hoping the action would somehow managed to wake you up. “Don’t worry, Baby. I got you. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Scud just sincerely hoped that he would be able to keep his promise.

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

Alright alright, this might be about someone I know, who knows? So I know I should be writing other things than typing out what kind of ex Sephiroth would be, but here I am. With nobody to stop me. Not that they could.

This was supposed to be longer than this, but somewhere along the lines I began accidentally writing a Yandere!Sephiroth and I didn't want that...not right now at least.

He probably won't talk to you for a couple of weeks following the break up. If he can even stay away that long(I give him a week at most). The “I can’t sleep without you ex.” and he means it to the core. Knocking at your door in the middle of the night, his eyes unable to focus on you. Sephiroth’s eyes locking onto the floor as he expresses the lack of sleep since you’ve separated, he needs you nearby to feel the slightest bit of comfort. There’s no way you can say no when Sephiroth asks to stay the night with you. Of course this starts a routine and it’s like the two of you never broke up. On the rarest occasion he’ll try sleeping at his own place. Not that he’s successful at all, instead Sephiroth calls only to fall asleep on the phone with you. 

Spends his off days with you. It’s what he would typically do. Why stop just because of some pesky title? He’s yours still, forever in dire need of your presence. Did you expect him to find something to replace all of that time spent with you? You’re the crazy one if you thought that. Seeing how you’ve been the center of his universe, constantly making sure your needs were put above his own, it’s impossible for Seph to shift focus. 

Gifts? He’s always been a giver. Partially due to Genesis teaching Sephiroth how they’re a great display of affection without being verbal. Considering Sephiroth is not great at vocalizing emotions at all, it’s the easiest route to take to express himself. Still sends you the weekly bouquet of flowers with a cute note attached and his beautiful signature attached to it. Usually a few words of appreciation along with an “I love you.” He’s going to keep soiling you, taking you out on dates, there isn’t anything Sephiroth changes after breaking up. He’d much rather keep the pretence that you’re his baby. With what’s already been stated, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Sephiroth was at your door, dressed for your usual date night. Of course he has questions upon realizing you’re not ready to go. It’s just so cute, Sephiroth would seem hurt by it in my opinion. All you can do is shake your head, telling him “You really don’t get how this works do you?” Inviting him in while you get dolled up. Of course you’re going out with him, don’t be silly.

Mr. “Why didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t be home?” Like, I beg your finest pardon? Didn’t know this was a requirement, especially when you’re single, but Sephiroth expects you to still keep him filled in in regards to your life and whereabouts, down to your dental appointments. It’s not in a toxic manner per say, he just needs to know where you are and that you’re safe. If he’s your usual form of transportation around Midgar, he expects this to stay the same. Will get very pouty because you caught a ride to work or wherever else you need to go. Please don’t do that again, he’ll pout for another two days over it. 

How’s this man just gonna move on so easily? He’s not. He is fucking not. You literally taught him how to kiss, you thought that was going to smooth over well? So sleeping with new people won’t be an option nor is it something he’d be comfortable doing. But you, his oh so beloved significant other(purposefully without the ex part in mind) will still absolutely be railing this man. There’s not a chance in the world he’ll create a bond with someone to the point of singing songs together or randomly shouting military cadences. 

I know what we usually say about SOLDIERS not getting drunk. This one will make sure to drink himself into thinking calling you during a night out with Angeal and Genesis despite their protest telling him to give you some space. Imagine the distaste on the other SOLDIER's face as Sephiroth rolls his eyes, whines at you, and insults them in the process “I miss you, these guys are lame.” 

Any new friendships are met with a side eye and questioning on who your new companion is. Would be insecure about it til he’s green in the face. That being said, fully expect him to be even more clingy. If that’s even possible. You’ll be spending quite a bit of time reassuring him that nobody can come remotely close to replacing him. Getting any texts? Calls? Shall be met with “Who is that?” Probably won’t go through your phone, but will get increasingly paranoid if he senses any sort of deceit in your answer. Don’t even give a pause in between answering his questions, Sephiroth is instantly going to overthink and watch you like a hawk. 

Will I do more with this? Maybe, not anytime soon though.

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐭

cw: masturbation

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

you’re defeated. wrapped up and consumed by your solitude and despair at how dire this situation has unfolded to be. you’ve lost all that you have of yourself and this may be the lowest moment in your life. shaking it off, you stand back up, making your way back to your bathroom yet again, to wash your face of these tears. are you really killing yourself to get into a good school?

the cold water sends a shock through your system as it makes contact with your skin as you wash and wash your shame away, failing to scrub the permanent stain etched into your vessel. sighing you raise your head, the droplets plunging down your neck and soaking your shirt. you slowly drop your head, watching the water spread so quickly, drenching your blue t-shirt. it’s almost as if a well has been dug in your heart, carving out all your sentiments and feelings. turning off the water you turn to dry your face before leaving to retreat in your room again.

your room is a lifeless little hole, with no shade or depth of life to it. a simple white-walled room, built to fulfil its purpose. you have no posters, colourful rugs or dangling displays. your mother would say it looks like a zoo either way. pale sunlight strains its way into the room as you sit down on your swivel chair, solemnly placing your glasses on your face today. the really bitter fact about this situation is that you have no form of solace. no girls to lean back on, no one to empathise with your sorrows and situations, no one to fight for you. just yourself. a fundamental truth you have grown to learn. no matter how loved you are, or may think you are, once the seasons change and the time comes, you’ll be alone like you always were. no one will be there when you need them the most, and they shouldn’t have to be. this life is your own, you get what you work for, and it’s not any other way.

sure that belief could've stemmed from the blubbering jealousy you’d feel when seeing a group of girls in the hallway snickering and giggling behind lockers, or groups of friends walking home together talking the entire way. certainly not. because you knew you were right.

the door opens silently, but not quiet enough. it’s like you can feel your mother’s presence hovering from outside your door. her negative aura could easily be recognised by you. “ good afternoon mother.” you greet, momentarily tearing your eyes away from your laptop to look at her. the look on her face is rigid and undecisive on how to treat you today.

“look at your shirt. didn’t know i had a toddler alone in this house. how on earth could you make such a mess of yourselves and be so unbothered? you ruin my reputation, child, you really do.” the wicked words don’t plunge as deep as they used to. they don’t twist the chords of your heart anymore, they simply deflect off of you. she leaves your room, her chilling presence following behind her shortly.

you don’t know why your mother is this way, nor do you care. you have money, you have food, a bed, and yourself. and you’re doing fine, just as how you’ve been doing all your life.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹

days roll into the night and your mother is asleep, preparing for her next early shift and the maids are asleep leaving you to be the only person up, again. the issue with tonight is that there are 3 more course assignments due that you want to finish before going to sleep if there’ll even be sleep. but you’re not sure if your mind can carry on with you anymore, you’ve been stuck reading the past few paragraphs over and over and over again, making no progress.

there is only one thing to do. destress.

you click off all of your study websites and open a new incognito tab. you know it probably doesn’t do much, but it’s the feeling of security it provides that makes you use it. your practised fingers type the name of the specific website you’re looking for. after a couple of seconds of slow website loading the erotic home page has taken over your screen. videos of butts and cocks and vaginas are all over the place.

as you scroll you don’t notice anything new, just regular videos with absolutely vile titles of “dumb blond gets fucked by stepfather.” or “petite redhead taught a lesson.” unimpressed you keep scrolling, fearing this is one of the days where the is nothing to watch. until you see it.

a thumbnail of what appears to be a very muscular tan-looking man with dark wavy hair. the still image is focused on his rippling back, the light in the video hitting all the right angles and some woman beneath him. looks promising.

you stand up, checking your door is properly locked before returning to your seat and placing your earbuds in. once you make it past the ads, the video begins. at first, it’s nothing more than sensual kissing and groping on a white sheet bed, nothing unusual. but when the shot angle changes and focuses on the woman sopping cunt getting fiddled with by his large fingers, you start to feel the usual tingle of excitement break from within. his finger movements were so precise, and you could only imagine what that would feel like for you.

eyes glued to the screen, you slip your hand down your pyjama shorts, lifting a leg unto the chair for extra space. you’re biting your lips as you mimic his movement, his strokes, his flicks his pauses. “there’s a good girl.” he purrs on camera, his face still out of the shot. such a shame. your fingers rub faster and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. you bite your lip to suppress a moan, reminding yourself that it’s late at night. “you like that huh?” he says again, something about his voice, fueling your arousal. you hear your own cunt, drenched in the silence of your room.

He coos again, “You’re so wet f’me baby, want me to slip it in?yh? there’s a good girl.” you watch as he rubs his leaking tip around her entrance, moving slowly as he traces in, before nuzzling the tip inside. you don’t even have to think when your hands do the same thing, slipping into your snug cunt a groan of ecstasy slipping past your lips. your free hand seems to have been groping your breath in the meanwhile, fingers squeezing around your clothed nipple, giving you pleasure.

his ridiculously thick cock pushes in an out of her, struggling to fit itself back in. a thin white layer coating its length as he pumps faster. your free hand now slips under your shirt, holding and squeezing your breast, fiddling with your nipple in your fingers again. the back arches of your chair and you close your eyes sinking into it all, listening to his voice groan in your ear, praising you and calling you sweet things like “ good girl.”

you’re close. you feel it when your walls start clamping down on your fingers and your hips can’t seem to stay still as they rock back and forth. you allow your soft moans to escape your lips as you fall into the building pleasure more. peeking your eyes open to notice he’s got his hand on the other’s head, pushing her down unto their bed as he thrusts into her mercilessly. your gingers brush up against your g spot and your moth goes agape. “you’re close aren’t you, why don’t you come around my dick huh? i want it all over.” his ridiculously attractive voice is distracting you from the fact that this would be over faster than usual times, but you don’t mind. you feel yourself tightening and wondering how much longer you can go on, your fingers slipping in and out at an incredibly fast pace.

“give me the best you’ve got come on.” you’re coming undone, pulling your fingers as your cum flows out of your fluttering hole, rolling down your thighs and drenching your panties and pyjama shorts. “good girl.”

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

(please send a dm or comment on my the pinned blog to join the taglist.)

taglist: @slutkoo

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

[Just corrupted anon again]

Johnny has a thing for Stoic!Reader because of the mystery behind them, always keeping a poker face even in dire situation and the strong, powerful aura that reader has but it's also reassuring. A mix between Price and Ghost the stern yet comforting from Gaz.

Johnny knocking on stoic!reader's door because Price had asked him to get the paperworks that were needed but ends up just stammering towards reader because the way reader speaks is so emotionless and stern, it sends him into a horny frenzy-

Finally telling stoic!reader what Price wanted, reader dismisses him but he doesn't leave and just stands there like a sweet, lost puppy and who is totally not horny or anything because reader is only in a black tank top and their cargo pants while reader does paperwork.

Stoic!Reader casually staring at Johnny because he hasn't left and asks if there is anything else.

Johnny stutters as he tries to explain that Price, Ghost and Gaz were getting ready for a mission, clenching onto the documents, trying to ask a certain question because poor pup was going to be alone for quite awhile but ends up silencing himself and leaving. 'Cause why would reader do that for him if reader was aroace? (again, sue me).

Not even 2 weeks in when the other three were gone. Johnny pathetically asks Stoic!Reader if they could fuck him.

Stoic!reader who wanted to say 'no' till they saw the twitching outline of Johnny's bulge and felt a twinge of pity for Johnny boy and sighs.

Stoic!reader who says 'yes' but only on one condition which makes Johnny happy, though the next day Johnny was now on his hands and knees with stoic!reader prepping his rim to take in the strap-on they bought online together (Johnny totally didn't get the overnight shipping).

Johnny is already a squirming mess as he came twice already from being prepped by reader. Reader obviously not done with Johnny, had already put the big, girthy, bumpy strap-on, on already and grabs him roughly by his mohawk. Rubbing the plastic-rubber against his weeping cock gathering the cum and proceeds to rub coated strap-on onto his ass, slicking it up before pushing it to the hilt.

Pathetic whining moans leaves Johnny's lips as he's drilled onto Stoic!Reader's bed like reader hates him, shocking Johnny at the full force that comes from reader's frame, he never would've guessed reader would have it in them to be this way. Letting him orgasm in this position twice before doing it once missionary.

Johnny already an overstimulated little pup on stoic!reader's bed, crying from too much pleasure and was ready to give out, to fucked out to even help reader orgasm. But don't worry, reader already had a plan for that.

Stoic!Reader pushing Johnny's legs up, stroking the tip of his cock before guiding it into reader's hole making poor Johnny weep from overstimulation, pain and pleasure. Knees behind Johnny's ass while holding his legs up as reader fucks down onto him, closing in on their own orgasm and Johnny building up his, what? 5th? 7th orgasm? He doesn't know.

Neither of the two hearing the sound of multiple boots hitting the floor nearing reader's barracks. The door opening as both Johnny and Reader orgasms at the same time.

Johnny looks weakly at the other three with a smile, who stared at Stoic!Reader in shock, Reader's expression remains stoice but as their eyes trailing down the three men's body already seeing their growing bulge, stoic!reader gives a small smirk and removes themselves from Johnny (who totally didn't pass out).

Well shit. Price, Ghost and Gaz later on couldn't remember that reader smirked at them, nor did the four remember that reader pecked their foreheads as they all lay together, asleep, after being fucked and looked after by reader.

Stoic!reader who finishes changing, closes the door quietly letting their four boys sleep. Till next time.

I-

NOW HOLD ON JUST A MINUTE-

THAT MADE ME FEEL THINGS

ANON, I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT YOU JUST WROTE SOMETHING SO GLORIOUS AND I-

YOU'RE NOT RECENTLY CORRUPTED, YOU'VE **BEEN** CORRUPTED AND I, FOR ONE, AM ABSOLUTELY EATING IT UP

[mychlapci]

I was thinking way too hard on vampire Prowl and now i think I hauve anthrax.

SO anyway, if vampirism is a line of code that needs to be added to the base coding, I think Prowl would ABSOLUTELY loathe it. Asides the unsanitary fact of being a glorified mosquito, it also means the humiliation to get irreversibly changed into it. With that in mind, he kept it a secret of everyone and decided to ignore it and just drink his rations even if it makes him puke and sick. What he didn't count with was his tacnet getting the grip on how to let him survive, the damn thing is smart and in dire need of nutrition after weeks of subsiding on non-optimal routes: instead of strategy and raw logic it keeps suggesting him on how to maul his comrades in feeding himself or how to steal the biggest amount possible of medigrade energon to guzzle down. With that in mind, terrified of the prospect of losing himself and still stubbornly not wanting to share his problem and be humiliated, he just goes into hiding in caves before becoming half feral.

What he didn't count with was an worried faction leader. A big hearted idiot that can't handle the loss of his soldiers well and worries way too much over things that he shouldn't. You see, Optimus knows how much Prowl is passionate over the cause, it's not in his character to just vanishes in thin air. And even worse that there isn't a single sign of kidnapping nor of desertion, in fact, he kept all the work updated and even elected someone to "replace" him and with the possibilities of attacks and what could happen. And no long after scouts say they can feel a raw broadcast, as if someone is half conscious and yet asking for aid with a signature that looks like their prickly praxian. Fearing it could be the cyberplague, or something worse, he decides to track him himself and use his trailer to haul his SIC back into medical treatment without the risk of infecting more bots.

And that's how seconds after entering the cave he got pounced by an energon-thirsty half-crazed SiC with wild almost white eyes and fangs, one wich bit hard into his auxiliary energon veins in the neck and kept sucking greedily, pinning both his hands on the ground possessively and sitting in his wide torso to avoid resistance. Imagine him sucking it off greedily after weeks of starving himself and getting energonthirst, basically half conscient of what is happening but getting the gaping hunger of his stomach filled pleasantly, almost like the buzz of engex, but lighter and more tasty.

His crafty tacnet, in a way to make it so to avoid him starving himself again, rerouted that pleasant feeling, that buzz of feeding, into arousal and without even realizing he is rutting himself into Prime like a turbofox in heat. And Prime, first unwilling and struggling, and then after seeing the state of his friend and guessing rightly it's the vampiric code, became permissive, letting his half-starved SiC feed and later bounce in his spike like a high class slut, half smeared of energon and getting pumped in transfluid, his spike bumping in his ceiling node all the time and pleasantly stretching him enough to get all his cock into the praxian, who was moaning and snarling until he overloaded and rebooted himself into the horrified of his actions but still very aroused prickly prick again.

(sorry for all of this I swear I am normal and ok and sound of mind).

tears my shirt off VAMPIRE PROWL hgrhhhH. it took me so long to get to this. I need him to crazed for energon his rational processor completely switches to surival mode and he becomes the hungry beast he was afraid of becoming... Optimus is so understanding, he has to be. If Prowl wants to drink from him with his spike in Prowl’s valve, he’ll do it for his second in command.... he’ll help him feel good <33

[rawliverandgoronspice]

forgive me if I sent this before sdfg But I sorta have this headcanon about the Gerudo? Gender is fucking weird to me anyways, so my brain looks at "they only have a man every 100 years and he's destined to be king" and i'm like 'but why tho'. I like to think their view of gender just doesn't translate well into Hyrulian/a language with gender binary. There are technically trans* people born into the Gerudo (*everyone is assigned 'female' at birth) so they are able to sustain themselves just fine. But the role of like, champion or king or whatever you want to call it, there's a distinction from the average person. Ganondorf isn't special because of his, err, equipment or anything. But this nuance is lost on Hylians, and centuries of misunderstanding contributed to this idea of "ah gerudo only have 1 man" (always did find it backwards that divinity is feminine in this series, yet it's almost always Zelda's father The King who is in charge and gets to be a character)

Ohhh the famed question of Gender Among Gerudo!!!

Okay, so. I think I'm a little weird in that regard. First, I think I need to be a little transparent about how I write, because it changes the way I go about this sort of things. I tend to be the sort of person that kind of gravitates around fictional cultures with really weird gender components and pressure points and then want to scratch at them and push them to their breaking point, because it interests me to see characters struggling to make sense of their identity in these contexts.

Again, all of this is about my own approach/my own creative curiosity and not at all a rebuttal of any other approach!! I'm super interested to see gerudos interpreted across the fandom, it's always so endlessly fascinating!!

(I'm putting it under the cut because I don't know if my own approach interests you, so just in case!)

So. While I think that it would also make sense for gerudo to think of gender in way that are radically different than hylians, I'm personally interested to take the claims at face value and see what sort of people that would create --for better and for worse. I am a big fan of the gerudos, but I also see gender (and especially masculinity) as one of their messiest pressure points.

The reason why that interests me is that an enormous part of Descant's subtext is Ganondorf being completely overwhelmed by the notion of masculinity and its expectations. Having no real blueprint to even understand what being a man is even supposed to imply beyond old legends about kings long dead, more myth than people, the contradictory, vague and messy expectations of the gerudos women who hardly know any better than him (but might say that they do, right Koume&Kotake), and hylian men who are literal threats to his life, actively hated by his people and who get imprisonned/killed if they ever get inside gerudo lands... How in the world are you expected to construct a stable perception of yourself in a context like this? And that's excluding the differences between hylian and gerudo perception of masculinity, or the insane stuff that hylians do project upon him based on their own understanding of gender and gender dynamics. In the end (in Descant), it's Darunia who does the most for him in that regard, though pretty much without realizing it nor the importance that it holds for Ganondorf, and then uhhh everything goes well forever and nobody's people gets eaten by a reanimated dragon very importantly.

I am taking a rather dark interpretation of the gerudos in OoT by taking their situation so literally, buuut I'm that kind of writer unfortunately for everybody involved. :((( This makes their relationship with hylians and their own brithrates very very dire in a war context, makes Ganondorf's appearance in the equation all the more important --but also very... questionable in a lot of ways. Extreme arbitrary gendered power combined with absolutely crushing gender expectations you can't really run away from, and expectations that are far from neutral (that's some wild shit to project onto a literal newborn is all I'll say). I think a Ganondorf raised in such a context might try to do anything for his people, buuut a part of him might also cultivate some resentment for the role bestowed upon him and the fact that he can't just be. This would have uhh implications once he gets a whiff that divine power (so self-definition at its most absolute) is a goal he can strive for.

What can I say, I'm interested in the mess!!!

But I also think trans gerudos are completely fair game, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a social space for trans gerudo to exist without this kind of pressure, especially when, culturally, masculinity is also a function --but I also think sheikahs might be much, much better at the whole gender thing than gerudos are as a culture tbh.

And as far as Goddesses being feminine while Zelda not holding actual power... I agree that it feels weird. I decided to handle this as hylians using it as an excuse to have the Goddesses relegated as religious passivity --blessed symbols of balance-- while having the concrete messiness of down-to-earth power be the domain of men; less pure and heavenly, but also, by definition, more power.

(I think this also changes a lot across Hyrule's history, but again I'm talking OoT era)

Thank you so much for your ask!! I hope I didn't overspill with my own headcanons haha

[tavyliasin]

The Scent of Cinnamon 2 - The Contract, The Kiss, and The Cambion's Pride

With the talking over, it is time for the deal to be sealed. However, Haarlep is not willing to relinquish their physical form so quickly, nor are they in any rush to finalise the contract with Raphael without enjoying it first. 4,965 Words - AO3 Link Click Here

--- Summary: Haarlep draws out the first kiss into far more devious uses of their own lips as well as Raphael's. They will ensure he doesn't forget a single thing about them. The sound of their voice, the feel of their touch, the taste of their- Pairing: Raphael/Haarlep SPICE Rating: 3.5/5  Content Warnings: Oral Sex, Shapshifting, Power Play, Mild Choking, BDSM, Aphrodisiacs, Incubus Kiss, Mild Blood, Mild Humiliation/Name Calling

Spoilers Vague House of Hope and Act 3, but most of this series is focused on what came before. Canon Compliance As before this is now taking on my canon and headcanons for this section. Other Notes Haarlep has the ability in this to change their form, which in my HC here is only for when they are in their original body. So unfortunately not something we will see later in the series when they have Raphael's form, but they want him to remember. They want you to remember too~

Song Pairing (Click the song title to open it in spotify) Diabolical by NYXX "I love the night That's the only time I feel really alive! I'm sugar on your tongue My name sounds so sweet Swimming in your blood I'm under your skin, baby Well, I got you strung out You just can't get enough, oh"

--- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT --- ---

The Contract, The Kiss, and The Cambion's Pride

The moment their lips touched, Raphael could feel a heat that rivalled his own. Haarlep curled one arm around his waist, the other hand reaching up into his hair to pull him closer. Their tail snaked out from behind them, grabbing at the base of the cambion’s own tail and squeezing hard. Raphael’s mouth opened involuntarily at the sensation, exactly as Haarlep planned. Their tongue dove between his lips, hot with sweet cinnamon and an edge of hellfire that immediately drew a low moan from his throat. Their wings fluttered happily, he was responding perfectly. They could feel the well defined muscles of his body beneath the layers of silk shirts, a pleased purr rumbling in their throat as they continued to devour his kiss, tasting the edge of black pepper and coal fires. The cambion was pliant, willing, the tension beginning to soften as the aphrodisiac began to work its way into his infernal blood. Had he been mortal, Haarlep would have pulled back, consciously weakening the effects of their saliva lest their partner’s body burn entirely to cinders in the heat of lust. But Raphael was no mortal. Inexperienced, perhaps, or at least he had yet to bed an incubus, succubus, or concubus… He would be able to withstand what Haarlep demanded of him. Their words had been no passing whim or idle threat. They were determined to burn their very presence into his soul. Their tail pulled his leg up, hooking his now bent knee around their hip as their hand moved down to grip his thigh, the hint of sharp claws making their presence felt through the fabric. The move was reminiscent of an old romance, a lover bringing their bodies closer, holding them together with affection and a dire need to be connected in their passion… Romance, however, was not in Haarlep’s vocabulary. This was all about power. —

The cambion was now balanced on one leg, forced to cling to the incubus to retain his balance, lips still locked together and moaning softly from the effort it took to cling to what remained of his pride. His mind was becoming clouded by desire, a lust risen from a libido he had long thought to be non-existent. His body responded likewise, fine silks straining as he unconsciously pressed his hips towards the Harlot he had invited to get closer than any others had been permitted. This felt different to the boring performance required to satisfy mortals foolish enough to lust after him while chasing the power his contracts held. Those times he simply went through the motions, physical stimulation enough to prevent anyone foolish enough to complain from voicing them. His pulse did not rise, his breath did not turn ragged with desperation, and his tongue certainly did not seek to drink in the sweet cinnamon of mortal conquests. When they pulled back, he was breathless, lips already seeking theirs for a moment before they tugged his hair slightly to force eye contact. The emerald green was even brighter, the slight glow colouring their tan cheeks, made all the more vivid by the dark makeup they wore to accentuate their features. Raphael’s arms were around their back, holding tightly to keep his balance still, though one clawed finger stretched up to the base of Haarlep’s wings. They smiled as his sharpened talons drew the slightest drop of blood from their skin, a slight shake in their breath from the sensation. Good, he thought to himself, feel it, I will not give you everything quite so easily. 

“Marking me already~” their voice purred close to his ear as they pulled him closer, “do go on, I shall return every mark in kind. I will ensure your body knows nothing but me.” “You are very sure of yourself, Harlot.” He growled deeply, pushing back against their control again, even as the heat in him built further.

“My my, Archduke, you gave me a name and yet you do not use it? Very well…” Their lips pressed to his ear, quickly replaced by sharp teeth that bit down and made him hiss from the moment of pain. They smirked as they licked the droplet of blood from his heated crimson skin. “When you lose control, when you give yourself over to me, when you are ready to turn over your pride to the pleasure that only I can give you, when the only word left upon your breathless tongue is me - that is when you shall call me by my proper name.”

“If you believe yourself capable of such a thing, you are welcome to-” Raphael’s voice was cut short. He had forgotten about their wicked tail, but now the almost sharp arrowpoint tip was at his throat. “It is adorable how you fight me even as you want me. How your lips speak of rebellion but your hips are pressing you to my body to seek your greedy release already.” They kissed more softly now, each touch of their lips a heated lie of affection, another spark to his overheated libido. They began to alternate little bites with their soothing tongue when they reached his neck, nudging his frilled collar out of the way even as the tip of their tail still pressed into the vulnerable flesh beneath his chin. “Go ahead, Archduke, let yourself go. We have all night, or longer if I have to - I shall not let you have a moment’s rest until our deal is complete. Do not think you shall get away with finishing swiftly and considering our business finished.” “Haa-” Their tail pressed down now on his tongue, stopping the word even as his body quivered against them with his release. “Too easy, and not even honest. There is more to your pride than preventing the stain spreading through your smallclothes.” They smirked, aware of the damp spreading through the layered finery. All Raphael could do was groan against the invasion in his mouth. The Harlot pressed against him did not seem to care one bit for how easily he had been overtaken by a swift climax, driven over the edge by the stimulation of their voice in his ear, their body possessively gripping him, the scent of cinnamon hot on their skin… 

— Haarlep withdrew their tail from the groaning cambion’s lips painstakingly slowly. “My, what a mess you have made…” They gazed down at the infernal fire in his eyes, still fighting their control over him. “Oh, very well, I shall indulge my poor Master a while longer.” Their words might have spoken with a respectful title, but the tone carried no such deference. They found it delightful to peel away his pride as easily as they begin to peel away his outer clothing, finally allowing his feet to both remain on the floor. For now. “Do not expect me to be so generous with you every time we meet. This is…a special occasion. We may only make our deal once, after all, and then you shall be intimately bonded to the form you wish me to take.” They ran their hands down his exposed body, tracing the lines of muscle with sharp claws. He was young, lithe, and undeniably strong. But that strength would be so much more delicious when it bent to their will. Raphael bit his lip, Haarlep watched with amusement as they continued down until they were on their knees. “You know, the next time I do this for you, you will feel it too. Can you imagine, tasting the ghost of yourself on your own tongue, your lips parting just as mine do, your throat filling with your own heat-” The incubus stopped with a laugh as they saw him already responding without a hint of their touch. “But you will remember this face, Archduke. You will hear the echo of this voice even when I speak with yours, you will see these eyes buried behind your own, you will feel the touch of my hands to the point that touching your own body will feel like me.” —

Their words sank into Raphael’s consciousness, burying deep into his lust-clouded mind. He had no way to know if this was another part of the deal, if it was just a game they were playing to toy with him, but some part of him - some very deep and intimate part of the core of his being - was paying very close attention. The moment their tongue began to taste him, curling around the ridges of his tip, he groaned. His wings spread behind him, tail pressing down onto the floor, both of them an attempt to maintain his balance. Haarlep’s own tail coiled around his hips, pulling him closer as they suddenly took every inch between their infernally heated lips. He felt their throat tighten as they swallowed, pulling every last drop that had spilled into their mouth with a soft moan. If Raphael had any care for the gods, he would’ve sent several silent prayers for his own sake at the sight of the incubus looking up at him. Ebony hair still perfectly sleek, horns wickedly sharp, and those perfectly green eyes gazing up at him as they pulled back until only his tip was still in their mouth. Even though they had stopped talking, he could still hear their voice. The night had barely begun and they were living up to their promise… Sharp teeth kept his thoughts sharper, not allowing him even a moment’s lapse in concentration as they continued to work every nerve with only their mouth. —

Haarlep listened with great enjoyment to the heavier breathing above them. They could feel his pulse quicken on their tongue, and though this was an act they performed only rarely, it was necessary to sear the essence of their being into his memory. Even as the essence of his being quickly rushed out once again, pouring heated lust down their throat. They swallowed hard, being sure to drain every last hint of him. It was amusing that even this carried the faint taste of cherry, a thought that brought a smirk to their lips as they released him from their grasp. “Once again, you are so very easy to please~” They rose slowly from their feet, watching his brow furrow with growing gratification, even though anyone else seeing that same expression from the cambion would be feeling nothing but the knot of fear sinking into their stomach. “Oh don’t be so serious~ you are with an incubus, after all. And not just any incubus. When we are through, I shall be your incubus, just as you shall be mine.” “As I shall be your what?” Raphael’s face darkened more, eyes blazing even as they laughed at his query. “Why, my Master, of course. Although, by your own agreement, not one with any power over me within these four walls.” They began to lead the way to his bed, tail curling around his wrist to tug him along behind them like a disobedient brat on a short leash. “Do not dawdle, Master, if I am to be your loyal servant then I must know every way I can serve you.” They looked back over their shoulder at the cambion, his feet moving automatically across the floor, as they left the last part of their thought unspoken: Perhaps I shall have you call me Master, some day… —

Raphael allowed himself to be led, wondering how he did not already feel drained completely by the incubus’ powers. It seemed they had an easy control over it, just as they had a vice grip on a libido he was not aware that he had. The aphrodisiac they had kissed into him was growing still, a burning that kept him pulled towards them more powerfully than the tail tugging on his arm. “You can serve me without force, Harlot.” He spat the insult easily as they reached the edge of the bed. “Oh, of course I could, Archduke.” They returned the spiteful nickname with his own, their face betraying their quiet amusement at his reactions. “But isn’t a little force a lot more fun ? Of course, if you don’t think you can take any more…speak one word, with your mouth or your mind, and I will show you nothing but mercy. Angel should fit us well, no? I doubt either one of us would utter such a disgustingly divine term.” Without warning, their claws were on his chin, pulling him into a ferocious kiss that still tasted of his own skin and seed. Haarlep’s other hand gripped the base of his tail and pulled on it wickedly, their own tail coiling around his waist preventing him from moving with the vicious yank to reduce the pain. Raphael yelped against their lips, or would have had they not been so tightly holding him, not giving him room to so much as breath. His mouth was filled with a ferocious tongue, the taste of cherry, salt, and cinnamon hot with more of the salacious drug that set his nerves alight even further. He felt his own blood rush lower once more, flooding him with an aching need that made his knees weaken. The cambion’s hands rapidly sought purchase at the point Haarlep’s wings connected to their back, claws digging in to sensitive muscle and drawing a low warning growl from the incubus. —

The pain did not bother Haarlep so much as the audacity to cause it. Still, it was pleasing to them that they could make him lose his grip on his sanity so easily. Perhaps in years to come it might be harder to pull such a reaction, but they relished it now. Even their wings would be in his memory, the feel of every kiss lingering on his lips when they eventually pulled away for the last time in this form. Everything they did was carefully calculated, though. They could not risk giving him too much of their “poison”, there was little point in draining him to the point of death. Instead, the goal was to secure their deal, cement their very being in the core of his soul, and perhaps even gain a little favour in the process. His demise would cost them everything, but the potential of his power could bring them anything. “That’s enough for now, Master, greedy as you are, you should not think yourself enough to handle too much at once.” They licked their lips as they pulled back, pleased to see the hint of disappointment in his proud eyes. “Now, if you would be so kind as to release those claws of yours from my back, kitten.” “Harlot, I will permit you to name me Archduke if you must insist on insulting me, but I am far from some mewling housepet.” He snarled, the attempt at intimidation only amusing the incubus further. “If you say so~” Haarlep purred, silently wondering exactly what his mewling would sound like when they inevitably drew it out of him. That would be an exciting challenge… Their tail was still wrapped around his waist, one hand on the base of the cambion’s own appendage with a tight grip. They chose their timing carefully now, using one foot to hook Raphael’s knee out of balance, their other hand on his shoulder to spin and hurl him bodily onto the bed with the strength of all their limbs working in a smooth and powerful motion. —

The air left Raphael’s lungs in a rush as his body slammed onto the mattress. He would have cursed under his breath had he any left within him to curse with, instead he lay gasping as his wings folded uncomfortably beneath him. He watched as the incubus stood beside the bed, towering over him with a wicked grin. They were clearly satisfied with watching him writhing and vulnerable, looking every bit like a predator about to swoop down upon helpless prey the way their wings spread even further above them casting a looming shadow over him. They finally began to unfasten their robes, allowing the silk to slide slowly over their skin, revealing their body inch by agonising inch, as he felt compelled to watch intently. Unsurprising to the fiend, Haarlep did not wear anything beneath the silk. However, they appeared somewhat smoother than he had imagined. Raphael’s eyes were directed to the hand that wandered down Haarlep’s body, curling in between their legs for a moment before reappearing slick and shining. “Are you hungry, Archduke? You should know that I am capable of transforming this part of myself to whatever I wish, it makes it far easier to devour my usual meals. This does not mean I will deign to receive you here, but your mouth would do well to remember everything that I am, that I was, and that I could have been had I not chosen to accept your terms.” They smiled as they licked their own arousal from their fingers, an act that he found far more enticing than he should as his own tongue absentmindedly licked his lips. “See? You are just aching for another taste, are you not? Use your words now, Master, I should like to hear it clearly, if you please.”

“You insolent-” He found his usual venom running dry in his throat. “If you insist on being so obstinate, hurry up. I will not be kept waiting. I have no issue with what configuration you prefer, if this is what is necessary to fulfil the contract then so be it.” Haarlep laughed again, seeing through his veil of pride easily. “Rationalise it however you like. I prefer my other form, it is more… versatile for the pleasures I can provide, but I will not have any part of me forgotten.” They knelt on the bed, moving forward until they were straddling his chest. “So, tell me. Are you not hungry? Don’t you want another taste?” The scent from them was even stronger now, the essence of lust itself raising his appetite against his will. Raphael moved his wings upwards and out of the way, stretching them uncomfortably above his head. “Must you draw this out?” “Oh do indulge me for one night, Archduke. This is the last time I shall feel such pleasures, at least until you see fit to allow me this form again. Though I should imagine that might well be centuries, so prove to me that it is worth my time.” They moved a little closer, though still keeping just out of reach. Frustrated, Raphael grabbed at Haarlep’s hips, pulling them forwards and onto his face with a ferocity that surprised even himself. He moaned as he began to taste them, the same cinnamon spice dancing across his tongue in a heady cocktail of pure lust. His greed made him messy, a thin line trailing down his chin and neck, holding them tight against him as they moaned wantonly above him. It would be humiliating were anyone to know he was accepting a lesser demon above him, allowing their thighs to grip at his cheeks, giving them everything they asked for and more in an unsightly display of submission. —

The incubus gazed down at the cambion between their thighs, relishing the tight grip he had on them, how his claws dug in to their heated skin. They reached down to smooth some of the hair that had fallen out of place when they threw him to the bed, a moment of softness before they found a firm grip on his horns to redirect his attentions. They moaned a second time as he obeyed the unspoken demand, switching to sucking, nibbling, and flicking his tongue in a way that was swiftly driving them towards a climax they longed for. Even an incubus was entitled to their body’s own pleasures, especially as these sensations would soon be lost to them when they took on his form. This…this they would miss. They would miss the feeling of their muscles tensing, the heat building in a single point, the almost overwhelming sensitivity reaching a near unbearable peak before their head fell back in pure bliss. Their hips were barely held in place by Raphael’s rough grip as he relentlessly continued to devour them, pulling out every last shuddering convulsion, before roughly pulling them forward to delve his tongue deeper inside them again, earning himself a pleased gasp as Haarlep’s wings fluttered in a moment of pure ecstasy. —

Raphael listened closely, judging by the incubus’ breathing and moaning, stopping only when he was certain they would be satisfied. His pride might be reeling at submitting to them like this, but it would also not stand for him to fail at the given task either. It was a conundrum he did not wish to indulge with further thought. That was unnecessary. So long as the deal would be done, he reminded himself, it didn’t matter what it was that signed the line. Or how slick his skin was with sweat and cinnamon scented lust. His head fell back onto silken pillows the moment Haarlep released their grip on his horns, the taste of them still hot on his tongue. Emerald eyes gazed down with approval, as the incubus casually wiped a line of moisture that was trailing down his cheek with the side of their hand. “Good, Master, very good~” They purred their approval, though the cambion felt the title was even more disparaging than before. Still, something about the praise… He shook the thought from his mind. He did not need nor desire the devotions of a lesser being. “Are you quite satisfied now, Harlot?” “You think so much of yourself after a single passable performance?” They grinned wickedly. “You have barely done half of your work, or did your lust-addled mind forget that I told you I can change my form?”

The magic was almost subtle at first the infernal flames wrapping around their hips and curling beneath them. Despite his resistance to fire, Raphael’s hands withdrew from the range of the effects automatically in the way one might recoil from a sharp blade against the skin. He blinked a few times as the light hit his eyes, and when his vision cleared he saw that they had indeed completely changed. With their devilish tail, horns, and wings, he had perhaps expected something more rigid and barbed, similar to his own cambion form, however perhaps to his relief now what he saw was decidedly closer to a human shape. The tip was a little wider, maybe, as if echoing the arrow-head end of their tail- A tail which now cruelly curled forwards around his throat, applying just the lightest pressure so he could feel it. —

Haarlep watched Raphael’s eyes as they changed, wondering what he might be thinking behind his carefully held expression. As their tail took hold of him, however, they felt the bob of his throat as he swallowed subconsciously. “Hardly an impressive trick for someone as long-lived as you, surely~” They mocked him, though both were over a century old he was certainly less experienced in the bedroom. Not that they minded. They were using this time to judge his responses, to get a feel for his body and his needs, to begin learning how best they might use him to satisfy their needs. Besides, this way they could shape his desires closer to their own whims, just as he was going to shape their entire body to fit his designs. “Do not think yourself so impressive,” Raphael lied, “I have simply not witnessed this ability from your kind up close. Cheap parlour tricks, nothing more.” “Cheap?” They were offended by the implication. Everything they had given, everything they stood to receive- “Enough. Pay for your words with that silvered devil tongue. Make that your Parlour Trick, and I might deign to make it pleasant.” Their voice was growing more demanding, their movements rougher as they yanked him forward by the neck and thrust between his lips. —

The cambion resisted the urge push them away, instead working his tongue swiftly, rewarded by the stiffening and growth that pressed towards the back of his throat. The shape was different, but their flesh just the same. Heated, the taste of them becoming as familiar as their scent. He wasn’t yet sure if he despised it or felt a deep desperation for more - the effects of their aphrodisiac made it maddeningly difficult to tell. He felt the same way about the pressure on his neck. It was demeaning, of course, but having that choice of when to act taken away… No, now was not the time to go admitting deeper desires that were blinking into life. The bitch above him, as he decided bitch was indeed a fitting word, demanded satisfaction. Just as he was finding a rhythm, however, copying the careful motions they had used on him earlier, he found his breath leaving him in a gasp as their clawed hand reached behind them and took hold of him again. Raphael almost bit down in a mixture of surprise and frustration. Perhaps they would’ve deserved it if he did, or so he thought…but the pleasure quickly grew to be the greater sensation of the three as that grip began to work him into a desperate need once more. He blinked back his own frustration as they laughed above him. “Oh you are so so delicious~” The grip of their tail loosened slightly, but their hips thrust forwards instead. “And how do I taste, Master, do I satisfy your hunger?” He could only moan as they filled his throat, swallowing hard around their intrusion, and at last remembering he had hands available for more than just gripping the silken sheets beneath him. The cambion slid his hands across the incubus’ abdomen, caressing their form with an act akin to affection but bearing none of the goodwill or pleasant emotion. His claws dug in and drew sharp lines into that far-too-perfect skin, crimson seeping out in drops along rich tan, as if already painting them with his own infernal hues. —

It was Haarlep’s turn to moan now, the pain was unexpected but not unwelcome - pleasure and pain were two sides of the same coin and it was one they enjoyed spinning on its edge. However, they were still not going to take the insult of being coloured with their own blood without incident. Sharp talons pressed threateningly into Raphael’s most sensitive areas, not yet breaking the skin but close . “Now, now, play nicely or be prepared to feel the same as you-” They paused as he redoubled the efforts with his mouth, clearly pleased with the way he was able to stop their words mid sentence. They decided firmly to remove every last trace of that smug look by the time the night was through, however…they felt their release building again with the stimulation of being with a newer partner and tasting so many delicious sensations and emotions drifting from his body. Each touch, every motion they made on him, all the reactions of his body were singing to them - this was a buffet, and one they would take their time over. They released their grip on him now, bringing their hands instead to grab his wrists, letting the thrill of the power raise their arousal further as he continued to work lips, tongue -

Their wings rose high above them, shuddering with the pleasure once more as their tail tightened slightly on the throat that was obediently swallowing everything. He was not so careless to be as messy with his meal this time, though his eyes watered from the pulsing rush that filled him as they moaned through the orgasm. —

The cambion’s body shuddered slightly with the effort, and the complete overstimulated arousal of having the incubus use his body for their own gratification. By the time they withdrew, still pulsing slightly and shifting their weight back over his chest, releasing their tail from his throat, he felt as if the sensation of them within his mouth would leave an eternal impression. He lay gasping a while as they caressed his body with a liar’s touch, the passion of a lover with all the emotion of a chef who was simply preparing a meal, or perhaps more accurately an archivist checking every last letter in the document of a deal. “You did well, Archduke, after consuming that much of my particular poison most would be consumed entirely by lust by now~” They casually pushed their stray hair back over their shoulder, gazing down at where he lay, assessing the reactions in his body. “Although, you aren’t too far from that now, are you?” 

“Go on, Harlot, you have me where you want me, do you not? You are well aware of your potent abilities. Do what you will.” His eyes almost betrayed the pleading of his body as it ached, yearned for everything he knew they could give him. They were finding every string in his body, tuning each and every one until they were able to play him like an infernal violin. “What are you waiting for? Permission?” “No,” they smirked, eyes flashing with a light that screamed danger to every remaining sensible thought in Raphael’s lust-addled mind, “I was waiting for this. To see you fall entirely into your own desire. To desperation.” “Harlot,” he began, but found even the insult was dying to a whisper on his tongue. “Please- ” The incubus laughed, a mirthless sound that ricocheted off the walls, accompanied by the display of their wings and tail rising to their full height above them as they glared down at the helpless cambion in their claws. “Be careful what you wish for, Master, you might just get it.”

--- --- ENDING NOTES --- --- The next part will cover the finalising of the deal, and I should have it out within 24 hours as it is already written and published on AO3 - it just takes a little time to transfer. I didn't set out to write what is essentially just shy of 5,000 words of oral sex, but here we are and here it is~ Haarlep would be satisfied with no less. Raphael is not permitted to forget, and neither are we~ They also have the ability here to change their genitals, which I decided makes sense for a genderfluid incubus who has different kinds of partners to satisfy. It's not in lore, but it's in mine now~

The story continues at the link below!

[denji-irl]

hello my friends, things have been very horrible for me lately. ive been stressed bc of so many things and have been having a hard time making it through life. my parents do not want to support me financially anymore, ive been having a bad time finding loans, ive been trying to manage work and school but most days I'm so low energy, and right now im 100 dollars under rent and bills that I need to pay by the 1st of the month, not to mention I have school to pay as well which I'm not sure how I'll make money for that considering everything I make goes towards rent and bills and groceries...

all that to say I need help. im still looking at outside sources for help but I'd really, genuinely appreciate any bit of change that could help. at least with rent as I do not want to be kicked out and homeless if I fail to pay rent, nor do I want to risk it... i really hate asking and being vulnerable like this so please if anyone would be kind enough to donate even just a bit here is my PayPal feel free to repost if you can... if you need to contact me feel free to message me here or on discord denji_irl id really appreciate any donations and id be willing to do whatever it takes to show my appreciation just let me know... also putting my gofundme here

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs: Post Production - Tower Lovers Star

Primary Pairing: N/A Starring: Nico, Nozomi Implied Pairing: NicoMaki, NozoEli Rating: G Words: 686 AU: Werewolves Prompt: Tower

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Summary: Nico discusses her concerns over the full moon with her roommate

Author's Note: Primary entry for the 5th

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A knock came at the bedroom door.

“Come in.” Nico called.

The door opened and Nozomi stepped in.

“What do you want?” Nico grumbled.

“Is that how you greet your marvelous agent who landed you your dream career as a star at the best theater in Japan?”

“We don’t have an appointment today.”

“We live together, Nicocchi. Can’t I just stop by to visit my roommate?”

“Not with that tone.” Nico turned and placed a hand on her hip. “What are you scheming?”

“I came to deliver news most dire.” Nozomi’s voice became ominous.

“And here we go…” Nico rolled her eyes.

“I consulted the cards just now.”

Nico sighed.

“On your behalf, Nicocchi.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“As your agent, I need to know what lies ahead and how best to guide you down the path of success.”

“I think I’ve been doing pretty well as of late. And yes, I do attribute some of that to you.”

“However, I do not believe the cards wished to tell me about your next production.”

“So?”

“Nicocchi, do you not understand the gravity of the situation?”

“No. Nor do I want to.”

Nozomi produced a card.

Like the rest of the deck, the card was well worn. And while Nozomi liked to claim it was because it had been passed down through the generations, Nico had personally been with her when she purchased it at a vintage shop near their apartment. This particular card depicted a tall stone structure had been capped with a crown. But now a thunderbolt was striking it, ripping off the crown and setting the structure ablaze. Two panicked figures flung themselves from the windows, choosing to chance the plunge rather than daring to face the flames.

“The Tower.” Nico stated.

“Exactly.”

“What of it?”

“Nicocchi.”

“Nozomi.”

“Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation… awakening.” Nozomi wiggled her fingers and dropped her tone with the last word.

“Yes, I know the full moon is coming up.”

“And I, my dear Nicocchi, have a date with Elicchi that day.”

“And? Are you planning a wolf-friendly date or something?”

“Elicchi and I will be going on wolf-free date.”

“But foxes are alright.” Nico pointed out Eli’s kitsune nature.

“Elicchi is indeed foxy.”

“Nozomi…”

“My point is I will be unavailable to watch Nicocchi this full moon.”

“But… who…” Nico’s mind spun. “Mama’s gonna have her paws full with the kids. I can’t…”

“There is someone else, Nicocchi.”

“Who?”

Nozomi produced a pair of cards this time. One depicted an angel with outstretched arms seeming to be blessing a man and woman below. The other had a woman pouring out a pair of containers while a sizable star shown in the sky above.

“The Lovers and the Star…” Nico observed. “Do you mean Maki-chan?”

“Who else?”

Nico’s shoulders fell. And with them, her defenses. No longer was she resisting her roommate’s shenanigans. Far greater fears began to settle in. And her gaze found the floor.

“What if she…” Nico’s voice failed her as she couldn’t decide on which concern to say first.

Of course Maki knew full well that Nico was a werewolf, she’s seen her wolf form minutes after they first met. And she still agreed to start dating Nico, after a few hiccups… just a few… She even seemed nearly as good as Nozomi at teasing Nico to trigger a change.

But a full moon transformation was different. Nico would have no control. And no memory of her actions during the duration. She needed someone she could trust implicitly to keep herself, and others, from harm.

“That’s where the Star comes in, Nicocchi.” Nozomi stepped forward and placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Hope and faith. It’s time to trust Maki-chan with more. And trust me when I say she is ready for it.”

“How do you…” Nico looked up to a warm smile. Nozomi wasn’t teasing anymore. Still… “Never mind, I know how…”

Nozomi laughed lightly and pulled Nico into an embrace. “You’ll be in good hands, Nicocchi. I promise.”

Nico took a deep breath and held it for a moment before releasing. “Alright.”

---------

Author's Note Continued: A while back, I wrote about Maki's first time keeping watch over full-moon-forced-werewolf Nico, so a prologue of sorts came to mind when I thought about something Nozomi might predict with a Tower card draw. Also, I enjoy writing Nico and Nozomi interactions, especially when it involves Nozomi's signature teasing style of playing wingman to NicoMaki.

Prior Prompts Used: Thunderbolt Vintage Dream Time Memory Roommates Moon

[malsfefanfics]

Dimitri and Rosamund B-Support

To collect: Have Rosamund and Dimitri share meals, or have Rosamund as Dimitri adjutant. Summary: Dimitri asks Rosamund to talk in order to find out more about her feelings towards the Kingdom.

Written in script format under the cut.

Dimitri: Rosamund, may I have a moment of your time?

Rosamund: I guess, but you'll have to make it quick. I was about to go herb gathering. There's a rare herb that has to be harvested at moon-high, so I can't afford to dawdle.

Dimitri: I promise, I won't take too much time. I just wanted to ask why you feel the way you do about Faerghus. You seem particularly angry about the Kingdom, though as far as I know, you have never been there., nor have any ties to Faerghus.

Rosamund: Oh, trust me. I'm a delight compared to my mother. She'll go on an entire lecture on everything wrong with the Kingdom, Empire, and Alliance. And expect you to turn in a five page essay afterwards.

Dimitri: Is that a fact? Well, what is it that you hate about Faerghus? I know it is not a perfect place, but-

Rosamund: Do you, now? Did you know on average, one out of every five children struggle to get enough to eat in Galatea and Conand territories? And the number of illiterate adults who aren't nobility in Itha and Fraldarius outnumbers the number of all of Leicester combined? Don't even get me started on the number of people who died because of untreated infections and illness.

Dimitri: What? I knew things in the Kingdom were rather dire, but this?

Rosamund: This is all statistics of how the Kingdom has been this past year, and are nothing compared to the overall statistics of what it's been like since your great-grandfather took the throne. There has been a steady increase in the divide between the haves and have-nots of Faerghus for decades. Though I will admit, Adrestia isn't much better, especially if the latest census is to be believed. We're just barely scraping ahead of Faerghus and the Church in terms of literacy rates.

Dimitri: Things have really gotten that serious everywhere….I…truly had no idea. This is terrible. How could I have not realized it sooner?

Rosamund: To be honest, I don't blame you for not knowing. You've been through a lot over the past five years or so. And you're still just a kid. No one should expect you to know everything, especially after…um…

Dimitri: Ah. So you know about that as well?

Rosamund: Yes. I heard about the Tragedy of Duscur, and how you lost your parents and an old friend. I'm truly sorry for your loss, Dimitri.

Dimitri: Thank you. Your condolences are appreciated.

Rosamund: Sure. But as much as I sympathize with you, your Highness, I still don't like your kingdom. Not as it is now. And I'm personally not a very big fan of who you are right now either. No offence.

Dimitri: You would not be the first person to share that sentiment. So, you hate Faerghus due to the current state of things. Well then, what would you recommend I do? What can I do to fix things in my Kingdom?

Rosamund: Do you really want the opinion of a Vestra who hasn't seen a lot of her own Empire, much less the continent?

Dimitri: Certainly. If I'm going to ascend the throne, I need to know where it is I'm lacking so I can fix it. Any insights from multiple viewpoints would be welcome. And I can tell this is something you're passionate about. So please, don't hold back. Tell me what I can do.

Rosamund: Very well. Where to start…. Apologies, but let me be frank. To start; you're too caught up in your own head. You need to stop focusing on the past, as hard as that might be at times. Focus on what is to come and plan for the future, and make stern, immediate changes to start building things back up to a stable state.

Dimitri: Stop focusing on the past? But…it is our past that defines us. How could you say to stop focusing on that?

Rosamund: Because it is not the past that defines us. It's what we take from the past and put forth in the future. I'm not saying to forget the past entirely. It's what helped create us. Just to learn from it, and try not wallow. Take it and turn it into a blade to carve a better path for all.

Dimitri: You make it sound so easy.

Rosamund: It only sounds easy coming from me because I try to put my money where my mouth is on a daily basis. When I'm not hunting, I'm gathering herbs for the infirmary. When not doing that, I'm helping teach reading to people in Abyss, or tending to the sick. I help pay for necessities for people who can't afford things otherwise. And in between all that, I'm training my dogs to aid the hunters and the guards. I'd do far more if I could, but I still have to try to keep up with my studies and training.

Dimitri: And here I thought I was working myself to the bone with my own obligations. You really shouldn't take on so much. You need to rest.

Rosamund: I rest plenty enough. If I don't work, these things won't get done.

Dimitri: I'd like to think they still would. There are plenty of others who can do these jobs, aren't there? You could afford a day or two to rest.

Rosamund: Actually, that's not really the case. There aren't very many people putting forth the effort, especially from the wealthier side. I'm sure you've noticed the two-faced reactions of some of the clergy regarding many of the people of Abyss.

Dimitri: I have. It's rather disconcerting to say the least. I've had a word with a few of the guards myself to try to get them to stop harassing the civilians there.

Rosamund: Exactly. It's despicable. It's hypocritical. And if there's one thing I hate more than Faerghus, it's hypocrites like them. So I try hard not to be one myself. Because I was lucky enough to be born into a noble house, I learned a lot, despite my own limited world growing up. I never had to worry about where my next meal came from, and I was provided the best possible education. So now I want to take my good fortune and knowledge to give others the same opportunities.

Dimitri: That makes me relieved to hear, Rosamund. I wish for the very same. But… such changes take time. You can't rush them, lest the results make things worse for the people you wish to help.

Rosamund: Fair point. Systemic change takes time. But there's no time like the present. You can't make sweeping change right away? Then why not start small and get involved in the streets? Start with something as simple as teaching people who don't know how to read their letters and numbers. Or help people repair holes in the road, or help pay for medicine for the people in the slums. Help provide food so people don't worry about when they'll eat. It might seem like it isn't much, but a little bit can go a long way.

Dimitri: Hm. I have considered going out and seeing how things are for myself. Perhaps it's time I actually took that thought and acted on it. There's nothing like firsthand experience, as they say. And if there's any way I can help even a little, I want to do so.

Rosamund: Go for it. Just, try not to go it alone? You're still the Crown Prince, after all. If something were to happen to you, there'd be a war to succeed you, and that'll just make things worse. Take someone with you when you decide to go anywhere. I recommend Ashe or Yuri. They could provide you additional insight on how to fix things, and are less conspicuous than other members of your house. And we don't want another unsuspecting hunter shooting you with an arrow.

Dimitri: Perhaps, but…. What about you?

Rosamund: What about me?

Dimitri: Would you be willing to go with me some of the time? Your insights are rather interesting. I'd like to learn more.

Rosamund: Respectfully, I decline. I have far too much to do. I don't have time.

Dimitri: But I…. Oh, very well. But, may I ask you one more thing?

Rosamund: Fine, but make it quick.

Dimitri: How do you know so much about our nations? Most nobles in the Kingdom aren't even allowed near those records, and yet you have knowledge of our census going back decades. And that of the Empire and Alliance. I don't think the Church would let anyone see theirs.

Rosamund: Well, that's, uh....

Dimitri: And what's more, you said I have "been through a lot these past five years or so". How much do you know about-?

Rosamund: Oh dear, we're out of time. My apologies, your Highness, but I cannot answer any more questions. If you'll excuse me, I need to head out. The moon will be high soon. If you need anything else from me in the future, don't. See you later, your Highness. [LEAVES]

Dimitri: Rosamund, wait! I only- and she's gone. [SIGHS] She is an odd one….

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

The Birthday Song: a Malevolent Fanfic

Very much post-canon.

Very much fluff.

John has a body.

Arthur has his sight.

They've figured it out, working in Arkham, making their way through life, and John, at last, has chosen his birthday.

It's all fluff from here, folks.

AO3

--------

John grins. “There’s your song on the radio again!”

“I know, I know. So, we’ve decided on June third. You’re certain? You’re not going to change your mind this time?”

“Damn it, Arthur, that’s what I said. Are you listening? It’s your song.”

“I know it’s my song. Calm the fuck down. I just needed to know how much time I had.”

“What? For what?” John looms, having never understood personal space nor seen the reason to try, and casts shadow over Arthur’s paperwork and pencil marks.

Arthur glares up at him. “Never you mind. Don’t you have a case to solve?”

John scowls thunderously, then goes back to his research, muttering about arrogant humans and dire consequences and foolish schemes.

He leaves the radio on.

Arthur snorts at him and ignores it all.

#

The radio has played four of Arthur’s songs today, and John is very proud.

He has no one to boast to. That’s the downside. These lonely stakeouts make him want to cast a kitten, sometimes, but he holds it together. It would all be worth it when—

The perp finally leaves the house in question.

John remembers the rules this time and snaps some photos before following. Stupid coppers, not taking his word as law. They didn’t know who he was, sure, but when you had to get PROOF for everything, it was hard not to feel disrespected.

John chases the guy down.

Then John reveals more of himself than intended when the guy tries to shoot him, and John’s manifesting slips, and then the guy screams about pointed teeth and yellow eyes and who cares what the fuck else until John knocks him out.

The coppers don’t buy any of the guy’s story about John being a demon.

They do take the film, and the proof of the disgusting kidnapping-for-ransom scheme, and they are grateful.

John goes home proud.

He finds Arthur asleep sprawled across music sheets, pencil still in his loose fingers, and John drapes his coat jacket over Arthur’s back (they both realized John’s scent does something to calm Arthur’s dreams, and neither of them knows how to address it), then makes his own way to bed.

#

“I’ll be back tonight, I swear,” mutters John, who’s really not happy about traveling to Boston right now, but the kidnapping case requires him to testify in court.

“You're sure you've got this?” Arthur says for the billionth time.

“Arthur.” John puts his hands on Arthur’s shoulders (and he and Arthur both ignore how huge they are and how hot they are, how strong they are and how the nails, unseen, dimple into Arthur’s back). “I said I’d be back. I said I could handle this. You’ve got a deadline. Shut up and write.”

Arthur makes that face. The one John could just…

Do something to knock it off him. He’s not sure what.

There are, he considers, a lot of things they don’t discuss.

Well, whatever. There’d be time for that when he returns. “Keep the wagons circled,” John advises with grave solemnity because he’d heard it in a radio drama and liked it a lot.

For no reason John can understand, Arthur laughs at him the whole way out the door, and it leaves him in a tetchy mood.

#

So, Boston is crazy!

So, it has cultists who know who he is and knew he was coming, and they fucking picket outside the courthouse with signs like FREE HIM FROM HIS MORTAL COIL and damn near ruin the whole damn day!

(And oh yes John caught a glimpse of Kayne laughing his ass off while the cops tried to calm this down, and oh yes John has every certainty just how these wackos knew where he was and who he used to be, but the case comes first, and he goes to the stand and gives his fucking testimony, and knows he’ll make Arthur proud.)

And it all goes well, though the jury is distracted, and the outside chanting makes its way in (YELLOW IS GOD! YELLOW IS GOD!), and only toward the very end does the Judge turn to him and—as if not really expecting an answer—say, “Doe… what in God’s name is going on out there?”

And maybe it was the irony of god’s name (because that’s what they were using) or maybe he was just tired, but John forgets the rules Arthur drilled into him, and says, “Fuck if I know.”

The judge stares.

John remembers to add, “Your honor.”

Your honor does not, in fact, resurrect the situation.

At least this particular “in contempt of court” charge only lands him in jail for one night.

#

John’s in a terrible mood the next morning.

His cellmate had been some kind of drunk who pissed all over the wall. Kayne kept appearing in the barred window to throw peanuts at him and laugh. They didn’t even tell him until the next day that the jury was unanimous in conviction, that John’s case won, that (the copper whispers in secret) nobody really found him offensive, but he had to spend the night in a piss-filled cell, and you know how it is.

He does not know how it is. Humans don't know how it is, he's certain, because they're utterly insane.

Whatever. Then there’s a train ride, and people making faces because he smells like pee, and a sour and miserable mood that just ruins everything even though this really was a happy ending.

It doesn't feel like a happy ending.

John likes having a body. He loves being a P.I. (though he often wishes he doesn’t have to do it alone). He does not like body odor, or rumpled clothes, or the weird itchiness of a face unshaven, though, and he's got all those things right now.

At least Kayne leaves him alone once he’s out of Boston proper.

John is feeling foul in more ways than one when he storms back into their home.

Arthur is waiting for him.

Arthur, waiting with a smile.

Arthur, holding a cake—decorated with bright yellow flowers, and made tall with bright yellow candles, lit with bright yellow flame that Arthur must have struck while John was storming up the drive.

And then, Arthur begins to sing.

Happy birthday to my friend! He is faithful to the end— Though he’s got thick sausage hands, And a back that just won’t bend.

He is my most favorite bird, In this land or worlds unheard. Happy birthday to my friend— May our time here neeeeeveeeeer eeeeeend!

“Happy birthday!” Arthur proclaims, and holds up the cake.

There is a moment of precipitous silence.

John sniffles.

Arthur goes really still. “John?”

He sniffles again. “You remembered?”

“I planned this out, you wacko,” says Arthur. “It’s a lemon cake. Just like you like it. Now come on, they baked it today.”

John sniffles again.

Arthur wrote a song for him, all for him.

And it was stupid and silly and absolutely absurd and no one would ever hear it on the radio if he had any say, but…

Arthur wrote a song for him.

“Thank you,” John manages, his basso profundo wobbly and unsure.

“Yeah, uh,” says Arthur, who is red as a beat, and holds up two small plates and a knife. “So. You want a bite?”

“I really do,” says John, meaning more than he knows he means, meaning nothing and everything and all the rest of their human lives. “I really, really do.”

-----

Notes:

I have no excuse for this. Blame the Invictus Discord server. (My fellow 8-ball patrons, if you know, you know.)

Why is Arthur not a P.I. right now? He will be again, but… he needs a little bit of time to find himself again. That's okay. By the time he rejoins, John will be a pro.

Anyway, here is the tune for Arthur's birthday song, and yes, you're right - I have no shame.

Sorry about your teeth.

[ambeauty]

Titans 410 Thots

Happy to have my family back. I loved how they are framed in the beginning of the episode with Dick, Kory, and Rachel. I love how they all mimic each other in specific ways whether tone of dress, stance, or manner of speaking. It shows are close they are. When you’re around people you love you tend to pick up on mannerisms and influence because they impact and inspire you. I see this happening between the entire core4 and that makes me so happy. Now here’s where things got dicey. Anything having to do with Sebastian, Conner, and Mother Mayhem are so dry and so boring. I feel like it’s controversial to say this but I actually enjoy Conner Luthor. I enjoy seeing Josh do something new with the character and although his attitude can get nasty it’s actually a refreshing change of tone. There has to be somebody that tells it like it is and unfortunately that’s ConLexy. I may or may not identify with him in that way. But seriously, having this Brother Blood villain build up was such a mistake. Joseph Morgan is such a charismatic actor and I feel like they have lost a lot of that by making him this sniveling incel. Two episodes left and I still don’t fear for Kory’s life.

And that’s a whole nother thing. Since Dick tries to remain “level” headed by simply not reacting with urgency to Kory nor RACHEL wanting to sacrifice themselves, I don’t feel like there are any stakes. Dick has remained seemingly unconvinced and unmoved this entire season, which could be attributed to his overall calculated “detective” character trait. But for me as a viewer, if he’s not moved, I’m not moved. I do love how Kory and Rachel do seem to be the only ones really concerned about what could potentially happen. I wish Dick stepped in and showed a little more emotional vulnerability to what we presume are his fears. And if when he does… It’s gonna be too little too late because the show is over. Honestly I could write an essay about Dick’s lack of character development, but this season isn’t about him, and clearly the writers forgot to include his own development in that as well. Anyways back to the stars of the episode.

Koriand’r and Garfield Logan. They had a stand out performances. The emotional vulnerability and care that these two feel for each other was present in the whole room. Garfield subconsciously opened up the Red to Kory because she needed space to think. He provided that safe space for her. You can tell that these two actors are really close because the ease in which the conversations between them happened so genuinely and authentically. When Kory says the line about Sebastian trying to destroy everything she loves and lists off the titans.. I CRIED! Like Anna KILLED that delivery! I really felt the familial love in the room between this team and that’s honestly what we’ve been missing from the entire group for most of the season. Confessions of the love that these characters have for one another. It was so powerful. And Dick and Rachel got something similar, but if I am being honest, it fell a little flat. Some acting choices, script choices, it just didn’t feel as dire as it could have. To have Dick refer to Rachel as his friend, after he just called somebody like Constantine his friend. It makes no sense to me. And again shows a lack of care for Dick’s character development in terms of referring to these people as his family, which I believe he did to Conner in 401 or 402. Again I am just confused by Dick’s progress and vulnerability in the very beginning to complete lack of sentimentality in the end. “Friend” feels so trivial and clinical to their journey as a pair. I didn’t expect daughter because that’s not how Dick rolls but “put my family down” or “put HER down or Rachel” would’ve felt a little better to me. Maybe it was the delivery. Didn’t feel desperate or urgent. But maybe friend means a lot to Dick🫣 I’m glad they got to have their moment.

I love how Gar was loved on this ep. He received so many hugs and smiles and genuine opportunities for people to show him how meaningful he was to them after a tough s3. I LOVE THIS FOR GAR! He is literally the heart and sunshine of the team and he deserved it all. TimBer….. If you like it I love it 🫠 With only two episodes left I have set my expectations accordingly. I hope we get to see Dick lose some type of emotional control over somebody KORY at the very least next week. I am tired of having to create fantasies in my head for how Dick feels. I want it to be shown to me and most importantly KORY! SHOW ME PLEASE!

[cheerstotheelites-if]

For the song shuffle, 72 and whatever RO you want to write for!

Just girlies hanging out :D

=-=-=

I used to find things about me

That were wrong to me

But then you came along and showed me

Showed me where I was wrong

So thank you, 'cause now I'm where I belong

In a world where I finally feel strong

=-=-=

A blunt statement. "It's not bad."

A gasp of awe. "You look beautiful, Lia!"

A soft scoff of disbelief from the taller girl with pale blue hair. "I don't believe you."

"Of course you don't." The shorter girl with pastel pink hair sighs with a slight eyeroll heavenwards.

The redhead with a mauve ombre pouts in disapproval at the girl with pale blue hair. "Don't say that. You're just being mean to yourself."

It's not often that Ophelia goes somewhere high end. She'd be lucky if she were given the rare chance by her siblings, but this...

This is a boutique. One of the high end boutiques in the Valley district of Delphinium. It smells of expensive perfumes, paper bills, and aromatic herbs. Fleur invited her to come (more on requested, really), saying that Ophelia is in a dire need of new(er, and fresher) clothes in her wardrobe. Zephyrine tagged along, insisting that she's coming for a) moral support and b) she's planning to buy some clothes.

... Well, it was more of Zephyrine pleading to come since she wants to do some window shopping first, and Fleur eventually (and begrudgingly) allowed her to after making the redhead promise not to tell anyone about this little venture. Zephyrine swears not to, of course, but knowing how much of a socialite she is, Fleur can't help but doubt. Regardless, here they are now, having taken one of the Heartstein limos to this boutique in the middle of the morning.

Ophelia looks back down at the assortment of clothes Fleur suggested for her to try. A simple button up blouse tucked into linen pants with dress shoes. No accessories, since Ophelia would rather cut her wrist off than constantly feel bracelets sliding up and down her arm and rings that tightly wrap around her fingers.

Her nose scrunches in displeasure as she examines herself. "This feels... weird."

Her arms feel naked. Dear gods.

"You're just not used to it." Zephyrine quickly reassures, bounding up to Ophelia's side with a smile and looping their arms together with a pat to Ophelia's forearm. "Don't worry, once we try on more stuff, you'll end up loving them. Besides, if you find anything you like, Fleur will buy it." Zephyrine looks at her smaller friend with a grin. "Isn't that right, Fleur?"

Fleur frowns. "Well, yes. Isn't that why I invited Ophelia here in the first place?"

"And what about me? Are you going to treat me to some expensive clothes too?"

"You invited and begged yourself to be here, Vel delle." Fleur's frown deepens. "You pay for your own expenses."

Zephyrine doesn't seem that all offended, and instead pouts. "Meanie. Seems like you have favoritism."

The frown turns into a scowl. "I don't have favoritism."

The redhead ignores Fleur's scowl, looking back at Ophelia with a reassuring smile again. "See? Nothing to feel bad about. Just choose whatever you like, and if you don't find anything you want, we can always go to a different store."

Ophelia can only meekly nod, fingers already finding themselves and pressing down on uncracked knuckles. "If it's okay..."

"Zephyrine wouldn't be telling you that if we weren't." Fleur states, with a look that... tries to be reassuring but ultimately comes off as blunt. "Don't worry about the price nor needing to repay me. I doubt my father would notice us spending a few thousand Petals on clothes."

The nonchalance about money doesn't ease Ophelia, but she nods again nonetheless in acceptance.

"... Can I change out of this now?"

•••

The morning slowly turns later, and later, closing in on the lunch hour, and Ophelia still hasn't chosen anything that has caught her eye. They're all too... fancy for her simpler, more rugged style of fashion; to pristine to the point she's afraid of trying any of them and ruining them in mere seconds. Looking over at where Fleur and Zephyrine are across the boutique, both are busy with clothes they've picked out.

Fleur looks busy trying on coats before a tall mirror. Putting one on, twisting and turning to examine how it looks on her, frowning in disapproval a moment after, then moving on to the next one in the pile she had brought with her.

Zephyrine busies looking through a rack of flowy dresses with poofy sleeves in the shades of the most pastels of greens and lightest of creams. She pulls one out, examine it for a moment, glance at the price tag maybe, grimace, put the dress back and the cycle repeats.

Ophelia can't help but feel a bit out of place.

She went shopping for clothes before, though they are most often with her sister and her girlfriend in local stores or at the closest mall, shopping for clothes that look way too old on her. Now, she's out with people her age, no longer with women in their early 30's who stress about taxes and discussing about an annoying co-worker named Evan from the Pathology department. No, these are girls who go to the same school as her, are in the same grade, and stress about grades and the highschool social life like her.

And yet there is this disconnect; a divide of sorts.

They look comfortable in where they are and Ophelia...

"Ophelia?" The girl in question flinches, whatever thoughts that jumbled in her mind have fumbled away, and she looks at whoever called her. It was Zephyrine with brows furrowed in concern and holding a flower embroided blouse by its hanger. Fleur is a few feet away, a coat with its hanger hanging off her arm, silently observing with an unreadable expression.

"Are you okay?" The redhead asks, stepping closer to her friend and gently taking a hold of Ophelia's forearm. "You blanked out for a moment."

Ophelia can only nod and look away. "Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Just thinking about stuff..."

"It's okay if you didn't find anything you like here," Zephyrine gently reminds, "because we can always go somewhere else if that's the case."

"No, no, it's fine." Ophelia strains a smile. "I'll just look harder. I'll find something eventually."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"I'll be fine, Zephyrine."

A pregnant pause as Zephyrine pulls her hand away. The redhead gives a small nod and backs away. "If you say so," is all she says instead.

Footsteps walk over, and the two girls look over to see Fleur carrying a brown, wool cardigan by its hanger. She stops before Ophelia, looking her straight in the eye and offers up the cardigan.

"Try it." The shorter girl says.

Immediately, Ophelia shakes her head with a faint smile. "Really, Fleur, you don't—"

"Just only this, and I won't ask for more."

The two girls stare at each other in silence, Fleur's staying unwavered as Ophelia struggles to hold hers as she eventually sighs in relent and looks away again with a small nod. She takes off her aviator jacket, letting Zephyrine hold it for her and takes the cardigan from Fleur.

She puts it on.

It's soft.

And comfy.

And like wearing a warm pillow.

Ophelia can't help but squeeze the hem of the cardigan from how soft it is. It feels so squishy in her hands.

"This is nice..." Ophelia mumbles, still squeezing the cardigan as a soft smile tugs at the edge of her lips. "Better than my usual jacket."

A small, teasing grin forms on Zephyrine's face as she nudges Ophelia a bit. "Does that mean you're gonna take that home with you?"

The squeezing stops and Ophelia bites down on her bottom lip, her eyes now looking for the price tag. "... How much is—?"

"Ophelia," Fleur sighs, arms once again folded across her chest, "don't worry about the price. I'm not going to demand or expect you to pay me back. Take this as a surprise gift from me."

"... Oh." Ophelia nods, a hint of red embarrassment and fluster lighting up her ears. Her eyes refuse to look up, lest her ears will burn brighter. "Thank you, Fleur."

"What about me, Fleur?" Zephyrine protests with an audible pout in her voice. "All I wanted was one blouse damn it!"

A groan of begrudging exasperation from the girl in question. "Fine. Just this once, and I'm not paying for you ever again."

Zephyrine squeals a bit in glee, a wide grin forming. "Hell yeah. Thank you, Fleur! Can I hug you? Please? Just for five seconds?"

"No." Fleur deadpans, to which Zephyrine whines in displeasure.

As the two girls lightly bicker about hugs and Fleur's bias to letting Cooper hug her all the time, Ophelia's hands are back at squeezing the hem of her new cardigan as she tunes them out.

Her soft smile returns to her face.

[midnightmah07]

Hewwo!! 💔🪓 For Jeanne pls!

Also! Daisy's tsum groovy looks absolutely beautiful!! She's so pretty!!

Ahhh tysm Toasty!! And ty for the questions!

💔 (broken heart) - Who has your character hurt most? Physically or emotionally? How did it feel? Do they regret it?

Herself– ok let's not unpack this uhhhh

Kalim, I think, not surprisingly. I think Jeanne doesn't have a problem walking over people, she has never felt remorse by it, but when she hurt Kalim she felt like an immense amount of guilt that she holds even to today (twsten mid book 7, they're in a relationship). She has not hurt him physically, but tried to use him and manipulate him for her own personal gain, and just because Kalim knew and was warned about it by Jamil doesn't mean it didn't hurt– like Kalim is quick to forgive, especially because he has always been honest with how much he loves Jeanne (even her twisted personality), but that doesn't change the fact that he was hurt, he just didn't admit it to her nor to others because... It's Kalim😭 always looking at the bright side😔

Like I said Jeanne regrets what she did immensely and she hates herself for it (girl has serious self hatred issues), she didn't even accept to be Kalim's girlfriend after she apologized, she told him they needed to stay away from each other for a while and if he still wanted to be with her then they'd try it out

🪓 (axe) - Does your oc have survival skills? Have they ever had to use them? What would they do in an apocalypse? Could they survive?

Considering she's a pirate and was trained by her awful parents to be strong, fierce and independent, yes she has survival skills. I don't think she uses them as much bc she's not always in a dire situation, but she has them!

I think she'd survive quite well in an apocalypse too