#well... ive not the excess for either | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedge-page · 7 months ago

Note

i was to late to vote in the poll (as if my one vote would have changed the results lol) but now i’m constantly thinking about sub! piss kink! joel aaaaaaa maybe like pee shy in public joel who needs assistance 👀

Don't Be Shy

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: anon referring to a poll waaaaay long ago. But I'm happy that i was now finally able to write this!!!! Haru is BACK.

Warnings: piss kink, very slight piss drinking, subish!Joel, public assisted masturbation, oral m receiving, exhibitionism, getting caught

Check out Piss Kink section on my Masterlist for more

18+ ONLY

- - - -

He grumbled this morning about going for a walk around the local park, but you insisted it would be good idea to get some fresh air, work those joints.

Get some revenge.

“Ya happy gettin’ your sun like a goddamn plant?” He grunts as you sway his hand in yours.

You’ve found quickly that Joel is actually a homebody. He likes to stay in for everything : food, entertainment, comfort. So naturally anything that one can do in the privacy of your own home—should stay in the privacy of your own home.

The sun is shining bright as you squint and nod happily. He does look a bit out of place: such a pleasant atmosphere, hot as hell with clear skies and beautiful nature all around, while he wears a paint and hole ridden shirt and some thick jeans with boots. Perspiration bead at the edge of his hair line, and despite the creaks of his fine wrinkles, he doesn’t look that unhappy. He’s exaggerating most of it.

You carried along a large canteen of water as well—for special reasons.

You unscrew the cap and practically shove it in his mouth. “Drink up big boy. Don’t want you dehydrating.”

“This the third time you have me ‘hydrating’ in fifteen minute,” he noses suspiciously, but still gulps the fresh water without hesitation. His wrist comes up to wipes the excess dripping from his lips. “Got a reason?”

“Depends. How are we feeling?”

He shrugs, though there is a little shift in his jeans. “Wouldn’t mind a bathroom sometime soon. They don’t got porta potties on this trail, do they?”

You giggle and kiss his scruffy cheek. “Ive got something better.” You grip his hand more firmly and rush over to a semi secluded water edge that has shrubbery and trees along either side of the clearing. There’s even a wooden bench settled facing the lake to enjoy the lush calm scenery of the still water.

Excitement rushes through your veins as you glance around to make sure no one else is coming before getting to your knees and undoing his pants.

Joel panics for a moment, his hands quickly going to scoop you back to your feet.

“Nononono, darlin’ this ain’t a ‘me’ thing this is a ‘you’ thing—“

you slap his bear paws away and continue your ministrations. “You always make me do it. It’s your turn.”

He hisses inwardly, looking around as well as you fish his soft cock out of his underwear. He peers down only to make contact with your doe eyes all big and seductive staring back at him. Your fingers wrap around his base before putting his tip into your mouth. Even soft, he’s got quick a package, but the feeling doesn’t last long as you quickly begin bobbing and sucking around his rapidly growing erection.

He tilts his head back and lets out a groan, hand coming over the back of your head. The warm wet sensation of your perfect lips suckling in his dick is almost enough to distract him from the fact that he’s got his jeans pooled by his leg in a public park with his girlfriend sucking him off.

Your hands glide along his thighs and over his ass, soothing his agitation. Reminding him that you’re here now, with his member deep in your throat. His insides unwind a little. Falling under your spell as you bring him pleasure.

When your palms begin to creep to his lower belly and push, he centers back to reality with a yelp. Startled, he instinctively pulls away from you, but the strength of your other hand wrapped around his ass reels him back in.

“Shhhhhhh,” you hum, grinding your fingers into his pelvis. “Didnt you say you needed to go? All that hydration a bit too much for you?”

His nose scrunches into an angered snarl. “I fucking kneeewwww…” he exhales through gritted teeth and a pointed finger down your way. He can’t even stay focused on scolding you as he anxiously checks behind him for any passersby. There was a host of walkers and joggers when the two of you started your walk. The idea that any of them, particularly the judgmental looking highty-tighty women, catching him right now makes the situation 10x worse.

100x times better for you, though. You can see the little crevices in his forehead each time he breathes shakily. His Adam's apple wobbling and the inward press of his knees. You know Joel lives to make you piss yourself anywhere and any time he commands it. Today, you wanted him to surrender control, something he seldom does. But you know he’d love it—he just needed some encouragement.

“You look so pretty, baby,” you tease. Your thumb circles his lower belly as you kiss his salty mushroom head.

He shakes his head with a throaty laugh. “Know what ya doin—shit—mmmmm!—ain't gonna work.”

But the signs are there: he’s crumbling, both brain and body. Lying through his teeth in the hopes you’ll stop and just tuck him back in and continue on.

Though if he doesn’t piss right now, he might just do so in his pants five minutes from now.

“Fuck,” he rasps, hunching over slightly with closed eyes. His lips are trembling as you take him deep, your tongue swirling on his underside before pulling out with a pop. You jerk him off with a smirk on your lips.

“You wanna do it? Gonna piss in the middle of a fucking park, because you can’t hold it in your pants like a big boy?”

“Nnnmmm—y—yessss,” he whines. “Wanna—wanna go.”

You shush him with a satisfied grin while lazily pumping his girth against your cheek. Standing up, you kiss the worry wrinkles on the crevice of his eye. "Don't be shy, Joel. Show everyone what this piss-hungry dick can do."

Desperate gasps escape his full lips as he can’t help but lean his head onto your shoulder, staring down at you jacking his cock off.

“You’re so good to me,” you coo, stroking the tense muscles of his back with your other hand. “Let me help you. Let it all go—“

No sooner that you had finished your words before Joel staggers a breath and begins unloading his bladder. He watches with parted lips and raised, relaxed brows as you hold his dick, the tip shooting out a strong stream of piss into the lake water where it splatters satisfyingly against the surface.

You giggle and press your face to his ear, kissing his pulse. “How’s that?”

“So—so good, baby,” he rasps with a throaty choke. You don’t miss the way he ever so slightly cants his hips forward, fucking your soft fist. “Shit.” He tosses his head back again and chuckles from deep within his chest. He’s very rarely felt this level unwinding totally, let alone in public.

Joe’s cock is warm, undoubtedly from the hot piss he’s dumping like a beautiful fountain of yellow.

“You’re so pretty when you let me help you. You like being a horny little boy, letting me suck you off till you’re peeing everywhere. It’s okay baby. I’m always going to take care of you. Need me to help you every minute, huh?”

His face unwinded in a drunken bliss. Pouty lips parted as he gazes upon you with hazy loving eyes. You continue to kiss between his jaw and lips, tongue teasingly wetting his skin though he doesn’t care. “Love—ugh fuck yeah—love pissing. Pissing for you, baby. Feels better when ya do it for me.”

You pumping his cock and bring your finger to his slit, just slightly interrupting the stream and getting your fingertip wet with his warm urine. His brain is so far gone, that when you slide it right along his lips, the rancid salty taste doesn’t phase him and he happily sucks your your piss-dripped finger into his mouth with a hum. You laugh and kiss him again, tonguing one along so you too can barely taste his pee on his lips. “You’re so bad, Joel Miller.”

If he had half his mind right now, he’d still be so worried about onlookers. And maybe you would be too, now seeing some movement coming from the trail behind you. He sees the change in your expression briefly, immediately turning to see a woman strolling along, not paying any mind until she hears the trickle of splashing water, sees the two of you standing so close, and a fat strip of urine shooting from Joel’s crotch that she gasps.

Joel chokes when he makes eye contact with her, turning to push his red face into your chest as his piss stops and is replaced with thick shots of semen blasting from his dick.

You continue to watch the horrified women, your jaw dropping with a wildly sadistic grin as Joel stutters in your grasp, working his orgasm over and unable to really hide what’s happening from any crevice of the world. And he likes it, fucking hell. Whimpering pathetically like a hurt pup. He’s never cum so hard from a piss in his life. The embarrassment he should feel, being caught pissing in a lake with his girlfriend jerking him off in a public park, and then cumming as soon as he’s caught...

The two of you are equally in a state of shock and odd satisfied at the revelation.

As a show of dominance, you maintain eye contact with the poor walker and kiss Joel’s fluffy head. The lady makes a disgusted sound and storm away, unable to bring her eyes to the sight before her any longer.

Your boyfriend, however, is so drained of liquid from his body that, as the last little drips of his cum pebble out onto your fingers, still gliding over his over sensitive length, he huffs into your breasts and closes his eyes. His breath is hard, gulping his saliva trying to catch his breath.

“You’re amazing,” you whisper to him. He laughs a little, shivering. He feels good in your grasp, in your protection. Your arm protectively wrapped around his back his other shoulder, while your other hand strokes gently along his spent, wet cock.

“‘M never comin’ on a walk with you again.” He finally stands up fully on his own and fists his softened dick back in his pants. Even as he glares at you, regaining his in-control composure, neither of you miss the little smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth. One that neither of you need to really verbally address again, but both still know his little newfound secret.

That Joel Miller would jump to do this again in a heartbeat.

- - - -

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rookinthecrownest · 21 days ago

Text

Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part IV (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Word Count: ~ 5.2k

Rook is trapped in the Fade. Spite is determined to get her out. But the truth of the prison is slowly unravelling itself.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Madeleina Mercar can’t sleep.

And this is quite unusual, because for the last few nights – really, ever since she can remember being at home, she has simply woken up to the next day. Every night was a dreamless slumber, shuffling her between moonlight to sunlight with little fanfare. Not so much as a violent twitch of her body while her mind convinces it she’s falling off a ledge.

Since Spite’s visit earlier, something hasn’t felt right. There’s not one thing she can really point a finger at. It was more of an ill-defined uneasiness that started bleeding into her interactions with her parents.

Later in the afternoon, she went to help her mother with the shop as she always did. It was only today that she realized that there were never any customers. Eurydice baked the bread and croissants and tartes every morning and arranged them neatly onto silver display trays. Each day, they went un-eaten, and Madeleina had no idea what happened to the excess, because she certainly never saw her mother carting in boxes of those leftover pastries into their home.

When she asked her mother about it as she was sweeping the floors (that never seemed to have any dust on them), Eurydice had simply returned a blank stare and asked her what she would like for dinner.

Madeleina had blinked, confused at the sudden shift in subject.

“Um …” she began, and really thought hard about it. Her face scrunched in concentration.

What had she eaten lately?

She remembered … well, she only remembered her favourite meal. Dolmades and vegetables with Tzatziki on the side. The same thing, every night.

“I want spiced lamb stew” she answered a few moments later. Madeleina didn’t even remember what her mother’s lamb stew tasted like but certainly wanted the opportunity to.

Her mother had nodded, airy and light, as if she hadn’t even heard, then went back to fussing over the displays that would certainly go unnappreciated.

Madeleina doesn’t question it until she’s sitting at the dinner table, and she doesn’t smell spiced lamb stew – she smells Dolmades. Sure enough, the stuffed grape leaves appear in front of her, with a side of grilled carrots and eggplants, and Tzatziki dip. As they had the night before. It was as if the conversation in the bakery earlier hadn’t happened at all. Since her mother didn’t acknowledge it, Madeleina didn’t either. She wordlessly ate her Dolma and ignored the sensation of the food turning to ash in her mouth.

Later that night, her father told her a story, before he went off to work for the evening. The same story, every night. Always The Sleeping Princess. And after Spite had tried to retell it in his own disjointed way, evoking all those strange memories as he did, she couldn’t help but notice how stilted her father’s delivery was tonight.

Almost as if he was reading from a script he couldn’t deviate from. A character in one of his own stories.

Had it always seemed that way and she just hadn’t noticed? Or was he becoming … different?

She desperately wanted to say something but her lips wouldn’t make the words. Just like at dinner. Would it even matter if she did, or would he brush her off like her mother had?

Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, Madeleina listened and nodded at the appropriate times while he spoke, as the figures of the Princess, the King, the Demon, and the Hero danced behind her eyes, brought to life by her over-active imagination.

Madeleina’s eyes fly open as a memory starts to take shape in the back of her mind.

A memory of stories brought to life by magic. Her magic. In front of an ornate hearth, in the company of a man who’s face she still cannot see. A man whose name is as familiar as breathing, and yet entirely foreign as well. The phantom smell of coffee and chocolate and cinnamon lingers in the air, even now. She hasn’t been able to stop smelling it since Spite left. Wherever they are, it’s warm. Safe. Comforting. A private little haven for the two of them, forged first in blood and comradery, then molded into something tender and sweet with time and trust.

Lucanis.

Home.

Madeleina shakes her head.

No, this was her home.

A sleepy little village tucked safely between a forest of great Sycamores and the Hundred Pillars. A bakery that she tends with her mother, while her father plays at the tavern down the street every night.

A bakery without any customers, she reminds herself.

Madeleina tries to blink the thought away, but Spite’s words keep nagging in the back of her mind like a small dog yipping and snapping at her heels.

The young mage takes a slow, deliberate, inhale and closes her eyes, trying to focus harder on that memory.

She needs to figure this out. If there’s nothing to be worried about and she can go back to her regular, day-to-day, mundane life.

A day that repeats like turning wheel, a snake eating its tail.

Madeleina pushes the thought to the back of her mind, and with some reluctant effort, she’s back in that elusive memory.

Madeleina sees the stone hearth again. She can feel the hard, wooden chair beneath her. The warmth of the fire spreading like a wave across her body. As before, she tastes something sweet and familiar on her tongue - cinnamon and dough. He’s sitting across from her, partially shrouded in the dark. His voice is muffled, as if he were speaking under water.

Madeleina shuts her eyes tightly tries to focus harder. Spite’s words come streaming into her consciousness, guiding her down the turbulent river of her thoughts.

You show him. Wonders in front. Of his eyes. Stories brought to life. With magic. He measures nights. By your tales. Days. Waiting for the next

When she remembers Spite’s words, something strange happens.

She opens her eyes to find her chest glowing, as if someone set her heart alight with blue flame. It flickers weakly in the dark, almost like a beacon. There’s the sensation of being tugged towards some unknowable, far-off direction she couldn’t pinpoint. It’s stronger now than it was before. She’s almost afraid she’ll fly out of her own window, trying to find whoever is pulling at her heartstrings. Acting on instinct alone, Madeleina places a hand over her chest, inhales deeply once more, and concentrates on the strange sensation in her chest.

The scene bleeds into her mind’s eye again, a bit sharper now than it was before the sudden interruption.

The fire feels warmer, a balm to her sore joints and muscles. The desserts on the table smell fresher, sweeter than they did before. The leather of her father’s journal in her left hand feels rough, and weathered with time that shouldn’t yet have come to pass.

Her free hand flourishes across her vision, and right in front of her eyes the castle from The Sleeping Princess blinks into existence in sharp, striking detail.

Stories brought to life with magic. Just as Spite had said.

“It’s incredible, Rook” The man across from her breathes.

His voice is low, soft and gentle. Each word a velvet-soft petal falling upon waiting ears. The sound practically wraps around her like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s morning. She could live in that feeling.

Madeleina blinks in the memory.

His face his clearer now, coming into clear focus. Rimmed in the contrasting warm orange glow of the fire and eerie blue light of her magic, Madeleina drinks his features in like a madwoman dying of thirst, and he an oasis in the sand.

His eyes draw her in first. They’re big, and the most beautiful shade of earthen-rich brown she’s ever seen. She could fall into them for an eternity and be content to drown in their warmth. His black hair is styled into a mullet and feathered at the sides – almost like the wispy wings of a bird. His beard frames a strong, square jaw. His features are accentuated by soft lips, and an aquiline nose.

Breathtakingly, devastatingly, handsome. Words are inadequate, and so her body settles for a releasing a soft breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She continues moving through the motions of the story, bringing every figure and every scene to life with a wave of her hands, like she was the director of a theatre production.

“Well, go on” He motions to her eventually, with an expectant look flickering in those perfect brown eyes. At some point, the illusion she had been maintaining disappeared into the ether. She was too busy studying him like an art piece from one of the old master’s to have noticed. Lucanis is resting on his forearms now, practically at the edge of his seat.

Lucanis. Waits for what happens next.

He waits for you.

Only you.

Madeleina grins widely, pleased by his reaction. “Impatient, are we?”

He smirks, and she’s undone at the sight. “Spite wants to know how it ends”

She raises an eyebrow and folds her arms over her chest, “Oh? And you’re not the least bit curious?”

Lucanis’ lips quirk into a little smile, and her heart melts into her stomach. “I might be” he adds, as he takes a sip of his coffee.

That same melted heart is somehow solid enough to able to thrum erratically in her chest, flitting about like a crazed hummingbird trapped in a cage. A faint smile works its way onto her lips but she’s afraid the quickened rise and fall of her chest will give her away. So, she does the only thing she can think of and takes a sip of her own coffee. She’s not really thirsty, but the cup is large enough to hide the blush spreading across her face. The coffee is a bit lukewarm by now, clearly forgotten over the course of the story the two were enraptured in.

Satisfied that blush is gone and the pounding in her chest has settled, she sets the coffee aside and wrings out her hands.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit parched there. On with the story”

A lie, a terrible lie. But a needed one.

As her free hand flourishes the figures into being once more, the memory cuts off abruptly. She opens her eyes and grips the fabric of her shirt through the thick blanket.

The warmth of the fire dissipates slowly, receding like a tide and although she’s under the covers, Madeleina feels cold. There’s no smell of coffee or cinnamon anymore. Lucanis is gone, and in the wake of his memory, a horrible realization settles in.

A piece of her heart is living outside of her body, somewhere far beyond her reach.

And she has no idea how to get to him.

“Lucanis”

She whispers his name like a prayer in the dead of night and hopes that wherever he is, he’s listening for her.

~*~

Lucanis Dellamorte has been sleeping more than usual these last few weeks, which was quite paradoxical because he wants to spend every waking moment making sure Rook’s rescue plan goes perfectly. He’s convinced he’s driven even the patient, kind-hearted Professor mad with his meticulous planning.

Unfortunately, it’s easier for Spite to traverse the raw Fade and keep an eye on Madeleina while he’s asleep. So, Lucanis acquiesces and lets himself drift into a dreamless slumber as Spite monitors the situation.

Once they told the group of the danger and time was running out, everyone was firing on all cylinders. It was a cacophony of organized chaos in the Lighthouse until the Veilguard was geared up and ready to head to Arlathan Forest through the Vir’Evas.

The entire trip through the Tevinter countryside to rescue Rook has him so on edge he’s lucky to get a few uninterrupted hours, much to Spite’s annoyance. He puts on a calm demeanour for the group, but each day that passes, given what he knows is happening inside that prison, Lucanis grows more agitated. Spite can feel it too. The demon’s … fear, for lack of a better world, is palpable under his skin, rolling across his body like a passing thunderstorm.

If the other members of the Veilguard have noticed, they have the good graces not to say anything.

The group is speeding along verdant hills in a large Dalish Aravel with Strife, Irelin, a few Veil Jumper mages, a sizeable quantity of Lyrium, and a few Resonance Amplifiers.

Bellara and Irelin are holed away in their own little corner, still furiously studying the Resonance Amplifiers and coming up with all sorts of far-fetched theories on how to … reverse their something, so they’ll weaken the veil instead of strengthening it. He may have spent a good portion of his career hunting mages, and he did know his way around a sordid variety of dangerous magic, but the finer points of magical theory are lost on him. Their chattering, as a result, filters in through one ear and out the other. Unfortunately, the amount of magic they’re using to try and get them to work is making the backs of his eyeballs itch something furious and is a lot harder to ignore than talking. He tries to blink the sensation away to no avail, so he settles for getting up and moving closer to Davrin and Assan’s corner of the Aravel.

The Griffon squawks excitedly at his approach. Lucanis gives him a quick smile and ruffles his head. Davrin is still working away at his wood carving. A wooden chess piece, Lucanis has noticed.

A little Rook.

The sight of has his heart squeezing in his chest.

He and the Grey Warden have settled into an easy friendship, one brokered by Rook, of course. She had that effect on people – was able to make them see past petty differences. Madeleina eased tension just by existing. Like a little sun, catching everything in her orbit and bathing it in her light.

Although he still thinks Davrin all too pretentious and self-righteous, he does have one endearing quality that Lucanis has come to appreciate. He can tell when is the time for words, and when is the time for silence. And Davrin is more than content to let Lucanis sit beside him in companionable silence as he continues carving his wooden figurines.

Assan stands on his hind legs next to him and watches the Tevene countryside roll past them.

He wiggles his hind legs and looks into the air, then to Davrin expectantly. His right ear flops as the Griffon tilts his head, pleading.

Davrin smiles and gives him a quick nod towards the air above them, “Just don’t go too far, boy. Stay where I can see you”

The Griffon needs no more encouragement, and a moment later, he’s leapt into the air and flying circles overhead, squawking delightfully.

Lucanis watches the young Griffon joyfully, freely flying through the air. With Spite’s wings, he could be up there too. But the absence of Rook is like a stone in his chest, keeping him and Spite grounded.

“Incredible, isn’t he?” Davrin remarks offhandedly, while he carves out dainty triangular designs on the side of the Rook tower.

Lucanis didn’t realize he was still staring up at Assan, basking in the sun, and gliding on an air current just to the west of the Aravel.

He makes a noncommittal hum of agreement.

“A little young to have seen so much, though” The assassin remarks, after another few moments of silence, recalling the fight with the Gloom Howler in the Cauldron. Remembered Assan's squeals of terror as the Gloom Howler had him in its claws, about to be blighted with Arch Demon blood.

Davrin’s lips quirk, “Not unlike a certain illustrious leader of ours”

Lucanis hadn’t given much thought to Rook’s age. It was just another thing in a growing list about her he thought he’d have time to ask about. Her age, her birthday, bothering Neve about what kind of jewelry she likes (or if she even likes jewelry), her favourite flowers, more of her favourite food and drink than he’d already gleaned from their time together. He wanted to know it all. To know her in her entirety.

But he didn’t ask those questions. Not her age or her birthday or her favourite flowers or her taste in jewelry. She was definitely younger than him by a good margin, but the gap between them could span as large as a decade, for all he knew. Madeleina certainly had the recklessness of youth. That he’d seen in spades, because she was constantly hovering at the edge of death’s door and he was constantly pulling her back by the scruff of her neck. But she also possessed a wisdom well beyond her years, and he never once factored her age in as a detriment to her ability to lead the team, although she might disagree.

“I expect in these times, that’s become more and more common. Growing up faster than one’s years.” Davrin murmurs, nicking some decorative dots on the tower’s side with the tip of his blade. “I don’t envy the decisions Rook’s been forced to make. I’ve a good five or six years on her and I don’t know that I would’ve fared any better even with that experience on my side”

Lucanis didn’t quite know what to say, so he let Davrin continue talking.

“All this to say,” The Warden shoulders him gently, “Try not to worry so much about Rook. If there’s anything I can say with confidence, it’s that she’s not going to let anything keep her down. Including some weird, nightmare-inducing Fade prison that’s trying to siphon her memories and – “Davrin stops abruptly when he sees the frown spreading on Lucanis’ face, “… I’ll just be quiet now. You get the picture. She’s tough, don’t worry”

He looks down at his wood carving and continues working at it, glancing up at the sky every once in a while, to make sure he can still see Assan.

Lucanis sighs and closes his eyes. He tries to focus on things he can hear and smell to keep his thoughts from winding him up like a children’s toy. The rustling of the leaves on the wind, the smell of pine and oak, the sound of Halla hoofbeats beating against the ground and low grunts of effort as they pull the aravel through the woods.

Try as he might to distract himself with this world, his mind continues to cycle back to Madeleina in the Fade. The very idea that the Fade prison could cause her to forget about him, forget about all their time together, as absurdly terrifying. It makes his skin crawl, and Spite rattle angrily in the back of his mind.

He’s mid-way through thinking about how he’s going to wring Solas’ neck the next time he sees him (and he isn’t entirely certain the thought only came from him), when Lucanis feels a pinch in his chest. Like someone was plucking a thread attached to his heart. He closes his eyes and reaches for Spite through their shared connection, much easier now with the newfound alliance.

Spite. What’s happening?

The demon bristles behind his eyelids.

Calling. To us. Through the Fade.

Is she in danger? He asks quickly. Lucanis can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he waits for the Demon’s response.

Don’t. Know. Spite replies after a thoughtful moment. Go. To sleep. I will. See.

Lucanis blinks as a hand waves in front of his face.

“Lucanis?” Davrin snaps his fingers for good measure, “Hey, Lucanis. You alright?”

He shakes his head and waves off Davrin’s concern, “I’m fine – it’s just… Spite and I sense something off with Rook.”

Davrin frowns, his brown eyes alight with concern. He sets his blade and wood carving down, before leaning closer to Lucanis, “What’s going on with her?”

“I don't now. Spite needs me to go to sleep so he can investigate”

He ignores the knot of anxiety forming in his stomach and tries to settle into his spot on the wooden floor of the aravel. It’s not the most comfortable place to fall asleep, but with about a year of sleep deprivation to catch up on, the bumpy ride on dirt paths hardly poses an insurmountable obstacle.

He turns to Davrin, “Watch my back?”

Davrin grins, “Do you even have to ask?”

The Warden claps him gently on the shoulder before quietly returning to his whittling, “Just make sure our friend’s alright. I promise not to let trouble disturb your beauty sleep”. Davrin huffs, “Maker knows you need it”

Lucanis rolls his eyes. As much as he wants to quip back, the feeling that Rook is in danger in the Fade has him desperate to let sleep take him as soon as possible and reigns in the impulse. The assassin draws his legs in to his body and rests his head in his arms, before closing his eyes and letting sleep take him.

Assan squawking overhead as he flies in circles, the wind whipping the trees and the sound of soft hooves beating on gravel soon fade away into a dreamless slumber.

Wait for me, Madeleina.

~*~

Spite Dellamorte hates the Fade Prison with an intense, all-consuming passion, even though he is Spite and not Passion. He doesn’t completely understand how that works. There’s still a lot of things about existing in the material world that are confusing to him. Sometimes, he doesn’t know how much of him is him, and how much of him is Lucanis. The edges between the two have blurred significantly since they made a new alliance. So much so, that his human host seems to have put new emotions in front of him to grapple with that weren’t there before. More things that aren’t him, on top of the memories from Rook’s journal that also are not him.

Regardless, Spite was determined to answer her plea for help.

The young Demon flies circles around her home inside the Fade prison. The journal’s essence flickers in and out, just a little weaker than before. Then, an emotion he’s felt from Lucanis bleeds into him, one they both know all too well from their time in the real Ossuary – fear. Fear that it won’t be strong enough to get him out. That he could be trapped in here, with her, unable to open the door that frees her.

He has to be the one that opens the door.

Spite ignores the thought as much as he can, and lands softly on her windowsill. He peers into her bedroom, expecting her to be doing something mundane, like she was before. Instead, he finds Rook sitting on the corner of her bed, with her head buried in her arms and knees pressed close to her chest. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. He can hear soft, muffled sobs escaping from the narrow space between her face and her arms.

Spite is Spite, he is not comfort or compassion. But Lucanis’ nature has once again, made him feel things he’s not supposed to be feeling. He doesn’t want to see Rook crying. He hates the sight of it, actually.

Spite taps on the glass several times, harder than he normally would, to make sure she hears him above the sound of her soft sobs.

Rook looks up at him, her green eyes bathed in a sea of red. Her face is puffy and tear streaked. She looks awful. Rook shouldn’t look awful. He doesn’t like that she looks awful.

Smells like. Salt and Lavender. Not right.

He taps the window again.

Rook wipes the tears from her face with her arm and slowly walks to the window sill, before unhooking the latch.

Spite ruffles his feathers and flits to perch on the back of her chair, as he did before. Madeleina closes the window and sits back down on her bed slowly, sniffling the entire time.

“Rook” He croaks, tilting his head. “Why. Are you crying.?”

Rook inhales sharply and closes her eyes before exhaling. “S-Spite …” she whimpers his name, and he hates how that sounds.

She draws her knees in close again and frowns deeply. “W-why do I keep seeing Minrathous burning? P-people being h-hung in the s-street” she takes a shaky breath between words. "E-every time... I look ... in the m-mirror - I s-see it ..."

Rook has a distant look in her eyes, like she’s staring through him at not at him.

“A v-voice in my head … it’s … it says … it’s my fault” She cries softly, and wipes her nose with her sleeve again, “He s-says I l-let them take the city … t-the dragon…”

Rook grips her head and shuts her eyes tight, and then takes a ragged breath. “It won’t stop! It won’t stop…” She raises her head and looks at him with pleading eyes, “Spite, how do I make it stop?” Her face crumples as more tears threaten to spill from her eyes, “S-Spite … help me… it w-won’t stop … my head…”

Spite tilts his head and thinks.

She’s starting to remember things, but not the right things. He’s rightly quite confused. Solas’ prison so far has been showing her what she wants to see - her parents, her childhood home - familiar things that would presumably function to keep her from wanting to leave. Why would it be showing her a blighted Minrathous? What purpose would that serve?

He remembers the day they found her in the music room, days after she’d returned from visiting Neve in Minrathous.

Smells like … cheese and salt. He had thought, as Lucanis brought her a cup of cioccolata calda to share.

They sat beside her, and she quickly wiped her hands of the remnants of the cheese wedge she’d been eating and moved over. He remembers Lucanis’ fretting over her mental state very well. Locked in their pantry, he thought of little else.

Knowing Treviso was safe brought him little relief every time he watched her go into the infirmary to talk with Varric’s ghost because she couldn’t cope with his death. When she stopped coming to dinner, he started drinking more coffee and staying awake even longer worrying over her. Pacing back and forth, paralyzed with inaction, with uncertainty on how to help her.

It turns out he was severely overthinking the problem.

All he had to do was tell her a story.

Maybe Spite had to do the same, like the first time he came. She was only remembering the bad that came from that decision. It figures the Dread Wolf’s prison wouldn’t want her to remember the good she did during that time.

“This place. Doesn’t want you. To know what. You saved.” Spite begins, “Minrathous fell. But Treviso. Lived to see. Another day. Because of you.”

Rook releases the name on a soft breath, “T-Treviso?” Her brows furrow in confusion, “I … I’ve n-never left Tevinter…”

Spite preens and plucks at a loose feather as she speaks.

“Saved Lucanis’. Home.” He squawks, “He trusted you. Above all others. And you saved him. There when he. Needed you most. And he will. Never forget.”

Rook’s eyes flash with recognition at the name, “Lucanis – tell me about Lucanis. P-please, Spite. I think… I think I remembered him last night – his face, his voice … but it’s gone again”

If Spite looked like Lucanis, he was sure his face would split in a satisfied grin.

He was going to break apart the Dread Wolf’s prison, memory by memory. He would open the door for her and pull her out.

“He came. To you. In the music room. After the Dragon. Took Minrathous”

She closes her eyes, as if trying to picture the scene herself. He can see her eyes flicker back and forth behind closed eyelids.

“He wants. To help you. Like you. Helped him. With Treviso. With Caterina’s funeral.” Spite says, “He helps. Only way he knows how. With a story.”

Rook’s fingers grip the edge of her bed tightly, and her lips press into a hard line, deep in concentration.

“I smell something warm… chocolate?” Her nose wrinkles. “Warm chocolate… like before…”

“Cioccolata. Calda.” Spite corrects her gently, although his own pronunciation of the word is a bit clumsy, “He knows. You love it. He makes it. When he knows. You’re in need.”

Her lips part in a sigh, as if she’s taking a sip in her jumbled memories.

“T-tell me more… please …” Rook whispers, biting her lower lip, “I want to remember him”

“He tells you. The story of how. He became the Demon of Vyrantium. The Wigmaker. And his. House of Horrors. Of blood magic and demons. And freeing slaves.” Spite recites the memory as he had seen it through Lucanis’ eyes. “A story. For a story. He always. Wants to help.”

A small smile creeps at the edges of her lips, “I remember him… I remember him telling me about a terrible pickup line Illario used on a guard”, Spite tilts his head as she giggles, “I couldn’t believe it actually worked, you know”

Rook wipes a stray tear from the corner of her eye, before opening them both. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners as she erupted in a warm smile. Like they did when she would tell them stories.

She swings her legs off the edge of the bed and comes to stand in front of the little Demon.

“He’s important to me… isn’t he? You both are” She whispers quietly. Rook touches her chest, and a faint blue glow erupts from where her heart should be. His chest is alight with its twin flame.

Spite merely nods and flutters his tailfeathers in response.

“He waits. For you. Only you.”

“You said that before” Rook nods and looks around her room, “You also said this place isn’t my home”

Spite nods wordlessly.

“Then what is it exactly? Why… why am I here?”

“A prison. Made by the Dread Wolf. To keep you in. Away from. His plans.” Spite nearly hisses the words out, rage bubbling in his chest. He puffs up into an angry little ball as a result. “A prison. To make you forget. Forget us. Lucanis.”

Rook grips her chest through her shirt and frowns. “The memories they … they come and then… then the day repeats and I forget ... I think…” She releases a shaky breath, “I think I’m living the same day again. And again. And again.”

If Spite could scowl, he would be scowling harder than he ever had in his entire existence.

“Spite” Rook leans in closer, so close he can feel her breath on his feathers. Her eyes are wide with panic now, “Spite… help me… I don’t – I don’t want to forget but each day I think I’m losing more of myself- “

She turns abruptly when the door opens, and Spite is startled enough to let out a surprised squawk. He flies out the window quickly before he can be spotted, leaving Rook to deal with the intruder. Spite hovers outside her window for just a moment, and sees a tall woman pull her into a tight embrace.

The woman, who resembles an older Rook with straighter hair and brown eyes, seems to be looking straight at him. The eyes are soulless and empty. Yet somehow, there is a warning lurking beneath that hollow gaze. She grips Rook tightly, as if to signal to him she will not the girl go.

The sight of it chills Spite to his core.

The Demon calls on whatever essence of the journal is left and propels himself out of the Fade with dizzying speed.

Each day I think I’m losing more of myself -.

He would not let that happen.

If she loses herself to this prison, he will find every scattered piece in the Fade and put her back together himself.

The Dread Wolf will not win.

Demons do not fear Gods.

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

Wooooo okay, well that took a lot longer than I thought. Once again big thank you to @teawithshakespeare (honestly my honourary co-author at this point for how much time I spend rambling in their DM's about this story), and @juneiper-art and @thewardenisonthecase as well for letting me bounce ideas for this chapter off them. I appreciate u guys.

Also, the Fade prison is doing weird things now! It's changing and reacting! Freaky stuff. But then again, the Fade's a freaky place.

I'll give bonus points to whoever can guess which movie I'm sort of loosely basing this off of haha.

I think this part of the fic is coming to an end in maybe another chapter or two.... I really just wanna write the Rookanis reunion :')

Anyway,

As always, thanks for reading! Appreciate all the love and support for this fic <3 MUAH!! See you next time!

-Rookie

#lucanis dellamorte #spite dellamorte #rook #lucanis x rook #lucanis x mercar #rookanis #fanfic #rook mercar #oc: madeleina mercar #dragon age veilguard #datv #dragon age #rookie writes #fic: bedtime stories for a demon

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toysrguts · 4 months ago

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smiling friends headcanons!! :D

i have smiling friends brainrot

allan:

•wine is his de-stresser. after a long shift he likes to go home and sip on a glass of wine while watching shit TV like some kind of cool guy

•doesn't smoke cigarettes often but will bum one off of charlie sometimes during their breaks

•bites people he loves :)

•perhaps his dr. monsters appointment with dr. monster was an appointment to assess him for OCD

•very very particular about the way he likes things and hates unexpected change in his routine

•also a math god he's like a walking calculator

•always helping other people reach things that they cant

•he has to be like 6’3 or something probably

•autism be damned my boy can work a grill (he can cook really well)

•in fact hes often the one cooking meals for the other smiling friends

•he also lovessss to garden its one of his favorite hobbies

•he grows his own vegetables to cook with and flowers to decorate his home :)

•i feel like this man would get down to some queen or duran duran

•he’ll listen to pretty much anything but i feel like he would gravitate towards 80s classics

•used to own a car that he loved but it broke down and he never bought another one

•went to school for engineering and started volunteering at smiling friends after graduating as kind of a placeholder job, but loved it so much it became his full time job

•cheese is his safe food

•had to wear glasses when he was younger but felt like they deterred the ladies so he switched to wearing contacts

•probably drinks black coffee like a fucking freak

•either that or he adds oat milk

•hes pretty anxious and freaks out a lot and will also snap if he has sensory overload

•wears noise canceling headphones a lot cause too much noise drives him insane

•HATES fabric touching his skin but will still wear a tie cause “it’s classy” and will wear clothes if hes out in public

•once took a trip to france and almost didnt come back cuz it was like cheese heaven

•goes clubbing during some of his nights off and is a karaoke GOD

•also goated at chess and gets heated during a game of scrabble

charlie:

•definitely sneaks a cart into work every day

•if allan didn’t cook this dude would go into debt from ordering takeout every day

•was raised mostly by his uncle cause his parents werent always around, and they're more like really good friends now that hes older

•grew up poor and had a pretty hard childhood overall but he doesn't dwell on it too much

•relieves his stress and frustration by terrorizing people in fortnite lobbies

•the smiling friends hq is air conditioned 24/7 per his request, he's heat sensitive and sweats EXCESSIVELY

•uses axe body spray to mask the stench

•his living conditions are depressing to look at, the only furniture in his apartment is a mattress and an old camping chair he borrowed from his uncle years ago

•also probably owns a shelf dedicated to lego builds

•he spends like 90% of his time in his bed if not working

•his morning routine consists of waking up disoriented asf, throwing on some clothes laying on the floor, forgetting to brush his teeth and walking out the door

•was exposed to shock sites wayyy too young

•acted out and got in trouble a lot in his adolescence but now just likes to keep to himself for the most part

•believe it or not he was baptized as a baby

•started caring about life a little more ever since experiencing hell

•feel like he likes music his uncle showed him as a kid, maybe judas priest and whitesnake type shit

•doesn’t even have to say anything when he goes to salty’s cause hes a regular and they know his exact order

•thats a bisexual man if ive ever seen one

•the hat hides his receding hairline lul

•has a fat ass surgical scar on his nose from when james ripped it off

•wears the same beat up white adidas shoes and got in highschool

•owns one of those “dubstep, weed and jacking off” shirts

•hes an only child but pim is like a brother to him

•had a family dog growing up and is a dog person overall

pim:

•begs to play roblox when anyone else is playing video games in the office

•curls up into a ball when he sleeps

•also will freak out without a night light

•his room is definitely littered with stuffed animals

•grew up watching mlp (g1) and probably still owns some pony figures

•and says “hello everypony!!” when entering a room

•played a LOT of browser and flash games as a youngster like club penguin and moviestar planet

•genuinely finds beauty in everything i wish i was on his level of joy and whimsey

•would totally listen to vocaloid and would totally go on a super long tangent about how its so cool and holograms are so cool

•also has a collection of light sticks and miku plushies and definitely kisses his miku poster goodnight

•i feel like he ate paint chips as a child

•craves social interaction cuz his parents had a rocky marriage and were neglectful and his sister treated him like shit when they were kids

•his sister would tug on his nerve ending when she got annoyed

•having a rough upbringing and dysfunctional family is what pushed him to start working for smiling friends, hes genuinely passionate about making people smile and just wants to help people who are in bad situations like he was

•prone to panic attacks :(

•sings little songs to calm himself down

•flails his arms or jumps around when hes excited

•still uses pool floaties when swimming lmao

•also still loves to dress up and play pretend as an adult

•mmmmm loves sweets what is a nutritious meal?????

•wore glasses growing up but just kind of stopped for some reason probably cuz his eyes are fucking massive

glep:

•chronic cyberbully-er

•tells people to kts in his gibberish language when they annoy him

•has most likely caused several wars across the globe

•puts whatever he wants on the tv and then hides the remote and watches everyone fight over who took it

•small but lets out the most diabolical burps imaginable

•is fluent in every single language on earth and probably space too

•absolutely brainrotted from that ipad he wont stop watching skibidi toilet

•unties peoples shoes when theyre not paying attention

•little guy has never known sobriety in his life

•has so many random ass pictures and videos saved on his tablet

•hes like a little vlogger

•if someone says or does something he doesnt like he’ll probably hire a hitman on them

•definitely has access to the deep web

•hates gardening but will help allan out with it once in a while for something in return (like a grilled cheese or some weed or something)

•also will sit next to allan while hes cooking so he can eat all the scraps

#i love queer ppl #smiling friends #frowning friends #charlie dompler #pim pimling #allan red #alan red #glep simpson #glep smiling friends #headcanons #smiling friends headcanons #smiling friends hcs #smiling friends fanfic #smiling friends x reader #charpim

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starfall-spirit · 1 month ago

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Read on Ao3 // Fic Masterlist // SJM Omegaverse Masterlist // Dark Feysand Masterlist

Summary: If there was one thing Rhys was well aware of, it was that his life expectancy as a kingpin was a short one. Unless he wanted his uncle seizing power the moment he bled out, he was in need of an heir. An Alpha heir at that.

The only way he could guarantee such a thing was by breeding an omega, a designation nearly extinct in the world they lived in. Regardless, he would acquire one—no matter how unconventional his means may be.

OR;

The Mafia Omega Auction Fic

CW: Rhys is still mean, this is dub-con at best.

Chapter IV

Feyre

Men like Rhys—men who snapped their fingers and bent the world to their will—all had one thing in common. Appearance was everything. Stepping into the walk-in closet she assessed the row of suits in front of her. Black, perfectly pressed, expensive. He’d be livid to find them carelessly crumpled and tossed on the floor to fill out her nest. Pulling one suit jacket halfway off the hanger, she hesitated.

What would the consequences be? And could she handle them? She’d cleaned herself as best she could without taking the time to shower, but there was no denying she was sore from her punishment. And going right into a heat the pain might not register the same way, but she would certainly feel it when the fever and craving faded.

Then again, heats often sent nearby alphas into rut. Would he even realize she’d used them before the week was behind them? He’d be too tired to be angry then. Unwilling to think on it longer, she shook her head and pulled down half the jackets and several dress shirts tucked away behind them.

Meticulous as she was, her nest still didn’t take long to complete, seeing as she’d completed the foundation before bed last night. The shirts and jackets ended up in a semi-circle around the top and sides of her nest, almost immediately changing the scent of it. Something tightened in her belly, but she really didn’t want to think about that either.

By coincidence or consequence of having Rhys’ scent so concentrated around her, a hot flash began to wash over her, the ache between her legs morphing to a different kind. “No,” she whimpered. She knew what she’d find when she reached beneath the nightgown she’d just put on. The slick was already dripping down her thighs.

Feyre bolted for the shower, grinding her teeth when the cramping started, melding so terribly with that half-pleasant twisting from before. She sobbed, barely feeling the cold spray even as it soaked through her skimpy pajamas and settled in her bones. Vaguely she recognized movement outside the shower stall, but with the doctor gone it could only be one person and there was no use in fighting the fate he’d rewritten for them. Stepping into the large stall with her, he pulled the showerhead down and adjusted the water until it was moderately cool before kneeling beside her and stripping her once again.

“Little omega.” Her tears only fell faster at the endearment and she found herself leaning into his chest, numb as he washed her down. “Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” Her whole body jerked when the showerhead and his fingers came down between her legs. “Easy, sweetheart.” Changing the setting to soften the spray, he cleaned her there too, chuckling when fresh slick coated her the moment he moved the showerhead. Reaching up, he shut the water off, ringing out the excess water from her hair. Drying himself in a hurry, he returned to her with a large fluffy towel that felt like it had just been warmed in the dryer. She’d never appreciated the texture of something more. She’d hated showering during and after her heats when she was going through them alone. All of her towels had been old and cheap, nubby and abrasive in their age.

“I’d love nothing more than to spoil you rotten, but I won’t tolerate you fighting me constantly.”

Rhys lived in the lap of luxury. She could too, but only so long as she was a docile pet to him. Another cramp hit her like a punch to the gut and her knees buckled.

Rhys already had her up against his chest. “Shh. I’ve got you, darling.” Feyre barely heard him, head stuffy, ears buzzing. Alpha. Protector. Mate. She tried to shake the thought, but it had already made itself at home, each title sinking little hooks in her brain, there to stay. Alpha. Protector. Mate.

He’d keep her safe here. For the first time in her life she could have a truly safe space. More comforts than she dared dream of. If he’d give her that, she could be a good girl. Could give him a baby. Wasn’t that all he was asking of her now?

He stopped in front of her nest, setting her on her feet just long enough to strip her of her towel before guiding her back against the pillows. “Let Daddy in your nest now?” She nodded quickly, pressing a hand between her legs. Towel discarded, he sank to his knees in front of her, curving his hand over her own to guide her clumsy fingers to her clit. “Pretty baby, made the perfect little nest. Such a good girl, using Alpha’s clothes to fill it out.”

“You’re… not angry?”

“That my little girl wanted my scent in her nest?” He chuckled. “No, darling. I’m not angry.” He kissed the tip of her nose and his smirk softened. “I’m going to get your plate off the dresser. If you eat all of it, I’ll give you a special treat before I knot you again.” He slid back so his head was even with her core, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, lips wet with her slick when he pulled back. Looking into his eyes… she’d never felt so much like prey. “I think it’ll be just as much of a treat for me.”

She eyed the plate of finger foods he brought back with a frown.

“You need to eat, darling. I know it’s the last thing on your mind right now, but you aren’t going hungry through your heat.” Begrudgingly, she nibbled at a cracker and cheese slice. He sighed at her slow progress, but didn’t rush her, just rubbed small circles over her lower belly to try to ease the cramping that had set in before her shower.

The pressure hurt before it helped, but he just hushed her, offering little bites of food to distract her until the plate was empty and the pain slowly began to twine with something else. The scent of her heat was far past subtle at this point, but still it grew. The rumble of Rhys’ growl was just barely audible, sending another shock of arousal through her.

Chemistry. Just chemistry. An omega reacting to an alpha during her heat.

Why did that excuse already feel so flimsy?

“Now that my little wife has eaten…” He slid down to the bottom of the nest, parting her legs again. “My turn, darling.”

Feyre froze, any comprehensive thought falling away to make room for that one word, a mantra in her mind.

Wife. Wife. Wife. Wife. He wanted—

His laugh was a shock of warm air against her cunt. “You thought I’d put my baby in you and not lay proper claim? Not a chance, silly girl. Now, relax. Let Daddy have his treat.”

He started slow this time, almost an apology for the way he’d so brutally claimed her after her punishment. He was devoted in his task, the only sound leaving him his pleased growling and soft praise. As for Feyre, she couldn’t manage more than whining and pleading for him to stop after the first orgasm washed through her. It wasn’t a punishment, but his recent attention was pushing her closer and closer to overstimulation and the demand of her heat did nothing to improve the situation.

“Rhys, Rhys, Rhys. Rhys. Please!” He pushed her over the edge a second time and she screamed, unsure what she had resorted to babbling until she finally recovered from the crashing wave of her climax. “Need you. Need your knot. Daddy, need your knot, please.”

He shushed her softly, kissing a trail up her body until she was forced to taste her own slick straight from his lips. In her state, she honestly couldn’t care less. “Hush, pet. I’ll give you what you need when you’re ready.”

She moaned as he pushed two fingers into her, squirming at the pressure even as he continued to soothe her. “Rhys.”

Another finger and she tried to retreat, whimpering when he pulled her back to her place beneath him.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, voice dripping with condescension. “Knows what she wants but doesn’t think she can take it, hm?” Feyre sniffled, nails biting into the tender flesh at his wrist. “We’re gonna fix that right now.”

“I can’t—”

“Shh. The first time was a punishment, little one. But you’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you? My baby knows she needs a knot.” It only took a few seconds for Rhys to withdraw his hand and line up against her, dragging the head through her slit. “Easy, pet.”

“Not your—” Winding a hand in her hair, he leaned down to claim her mouth, quieting her protest at the name. The words died there, replaced with a long moan as he claimed her inch by unforgiving inch, seating himself to the base in one steady stroke.

His lips slid over her neck, hips shifting just enough to tease her with his knot. To remind her how desperate she was to have him locked inside of her once again. “Let me hear it again, little one,” he ordered, setting a steady rhythm. “Tell Daddy what you need.”

“Knot,” she panted. “Need filled up, Daddy. Want you to knot me.”

He cursed, voice low and rough at her ear. “So sweet. So good for me, asking for what you need. Precious girl.”

His pace quickens, a few sharp thrusts her only preparation before Rhys pushed all the way in, his knot already swelling. She whined, scraping her teeth across his neck, feeling herself clench around him. Rhys just groaned, nipping her earlobe in reprimand. “Take me so well. Fuck, Feyre.”

His constant praise settled something within her, soothing an ache she hadn’t recognized until that point. “Please,” she breathed. One last thrust of his hips and he drove her over the edge, blinding pleasure tearing through every inch of her from head to each curling toe. Her orgasm kept rolling through her, fed by his own release the moment he spilled into her, knot locking in place.

She must have blacked out, because the next time she opened her eyes she found Rhys easing out of her, his fingers replacing the thick length of him to push the cum leaking from her back into her core. She whined softly, trying to shift her hips away from his touch. “Hush, darling. Need to keep you nice and full if you’re going to give me an heir.”

She couldn’t hide the shiver that ran though her, but refused to acknowledge what that revealed about her.

Biology. That’s why the idea isn’t entirely abhorrent. Why some parts of it all were pleasant.

She pushed the thought from her mind, instead watching her alpha rearrange the ruined nest to a near replica of its original state.

Attentive, she couldn’t help but think. A good quality in a mate.

Even banishing that train of thought from her mind as well, Feyre found herself inching over in the nest, seeking his warmth, the comfort she knew she’d only find wrapped in his arms. She loathed everything about it.

His scent caught in her nose, the rising ache, in her core even before she could manage to clean up, how her nerves and worries melted away the moment he started to purr for her.

“Not fair,” she pouted, nose buried in his neck.

Rhys sighed. “I know, pet. I know.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @littlest-w01f // @whatishowedyouinthedark // @ninthcircleofprythian // @sajirah // @acourtofladydeath // @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer // @toporecall //@popjunkie42-blog

#acotar #feysand #Scarred So Pretty #SSP #feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand fic #mafia au #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics

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cultofdixon · 1 year ago

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Strong, Healthy, that’s all that matters

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Part 2 to “You do what you can” • Alexandria is a wonderful luxury the group was given. Even with the ups and downs • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Nudity • TW: Miscarriage Mentioned / Pregnancy / Vomiting & Excessive Nausea / Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

“Why are you out here and not inside with Y/N?” Carol asked her best friend from her porch while he sat on the fence fiddling with his crossbow.

“Doc gave her a sedative. She’s safe, don’t gotta watch her”

“Then why are you biting your thumb every now and then?” She comments on his anxious habit resulting in Daryl stopping himself from continuing.

“She’s weak, can barely stand weak. I’m tryin’ to think of what to do for her when the best thing for her right now is sleep and the IV that doc put in her. He comes by every hour to give us a new one and take the old one to refill. Rick or I change it but I don’t know what else I could do”

“Well, how about I make something that I ate during my pregnancy that I knew I kept down…see if Y/N can handle it. If not, I’ll keep making things pregnancy friendly with what we’ve got.”

“I heard what yea said when they took her to the infirmary.” Daryl hung his head low to avoid her shocked expression. “You wished she’d lost it, then she wouldn’t be useless when we take this place if people fuck with us enough.”

“Daryl—-“

“If yea mean it, then do that shit for my partner and our baby. Otherwise I’ve got it.”

“Yet you’re siting out here and not being with her. Doesn’t matter if you can’t do anything but watch her sleep or hell, sleep with her why not. That’s doing something” Carol states walking past to go to the pantry.

“You look ridiculous by the way!” He had to make one last comment which got a laugh out of the woman.

After a bit more time sitting on the porch to think of anything else he could do for his partner, he decided it was best to listen to his best friend. But when he entered the bedroom Y/N took, she wasn’t in bed and her IV bag was unhooked from her and clamped to keep it from continuing to dispense. Daryl was about to let his anxiety take over when he heard splashing of water.

The second he peaked his head into the bathroom, Y/N quickly turned to him.

“Hi…”

“Hi…how are yea…” His face distorted to the mixture of smells happening in the room. “feeling? What is—-“

“Vomit. I didn’t…make it to the toilet or the trash can at least and puked all over my clothes” Y/N frowns feeling awful about it as she quickly turned away to avoid her tears being noticeable. It’s small potatoes but she’s crying anyway…and again.

Daryl brought himself to kneel by the bath gently taking her chin bringing her attention onto him. He then took care of wiping away the tears bringing out that smile of hers as he leans against the edge of the tub.

“I’ll get you clean clothes. There’s sweats I saw….uhm. Did you take your IV out? Do I have to get—-“

“No it was uhm. The IV tubing was one like a screw in and not a needle piercing the plastic” Y/N showed him that she taped the excess tubing to her arm and did her best to keep it dry. “It’s honestly hard to explain and just easier to show you when I put it back in”

“Puttin’ your old nursing days to use”

“Surprised you even remember that…and it was just a clinic” Y/N laughs softly sinking a bit into the water that was starting to lose its warmth.

“Everythin’ you’ve said to me, I’ve kept to memory. You’re my girl.” Daryl gave her a soft smile which she will take to memory as she brought her hand to rest on his cheek watching him kiss the inside of her palm.

“You know you don’t have to be calm with me…” Y/N reassures even when he gave her a confused look. “I have gotten pretty good at reading your expressions, especially your infamous blank ones…I know you don’t like it here. It’s…scary and I’m not gonna get used to it instantly either or like the others”

“All I want is to keep my family safe. Something doesn’t feel right here but all I gotta do is keep y’all safe”

Y/N smiles bringing herself to the edge pressing a kiss to his lips as he happily returns the gesture.

“Need help out?” Daryl asks when Y/N pulled the stopper out to let the water drain. She nods watching him stand up holding his hands out for her to take carefully.

The second Daryl helped her stand to her feet his eyes fixated on something that anxiously took Y/N’s attention.

“What happened?”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ bad” Daryl states still staring as he helps her out of the tub and reaching for the towel on the sink she set out for herself. “You’re showin’” he says while gently wrapping her in the towel and finding the opportunity to rest his hand on her belly after giving her a quick glance for any signs from her of not wanting him to do such.

But his large hands make it look like nothing in comparison to Y/N keeping the towel from covering her belly a moment so she could rest her hand on her small but growing bump. She couldn’t help the tears that started to form at her waterline when looking at the small bump as she was worried ever since she found out she was pregnant and had this 1 in a million case of intense nausea that the baby wouldn’t grow.

Yet here they were admiring the small thing as Daryl rest his forehead against hers a moment while they both looked before he wrapped her entirely in the towel and picking her up bridal style carrying her back to the rest of bedroom.

Once she dressed in the sweats and long sleeve Daryl had gotten out for her, it felt like a cue for Rick to step in without knocking but Y/N was used to that. She grew up with the guy.

“How are yea feeling?”

“I’m doing okay” Y/N gave him a tired smile while showing Daryl how to reconnect the IV bag. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah you remember Deanna coming in to introduce herself to you?”

“Yeah?” The confusion grew on her partner’s face to what he was getting at.

“She’s throwing a welcoming party or whatever they’re called for our infusion to the place. She wants you to come if you’re feeling well enough”

“I could just lie—-“

“Yeah I know but I have to go and so are the kids. I’d just. Like it if you came” Rick says on his way out before Y/N could say anymore on the matter. She turned to Daryl and before he could share his concerns on why he doesn’t exactly feel welcomed…

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Frankly I don’t…really want to either. I never fit in with this kind of crowd” Y/N rest her head on Daryl’s shoulder feeling his arm snake around her bringing her close. “You just be safe with whatever you do and I promise you I will be safe.”

“You just know what to say huh?” Daryl chuckles lightly pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll uh…well, I wanna check out the place when there’s not a lot of people ‘round”

“Can you make sure the wall is actually secure?”

“That what you’re really worried about?”

“I’m pregnant, Dar. I’m worried about a lot of things”

The night of the party came and Rick quietly approaches Y/N’s bedroom knocking on the door frame watching her attention go from the full body mirror to him. She was wearing a dress that was more on the fitted side and showed off her bump, the dress was given to her by Deanna. As if she wanted to show everyone who the pregnant newcomer was.

“You look miserable”

“Yeah but not in that sense. The doc came by to check me out…as per request by—-“

“Jesus fucking Christ”

“And he said I should be fine to go. So I can’t really stand up this party…especially since she also dropped this dress off and it’s like. She wants everyone to know I’m the pregnant one”

“Yeah I don’t quite understand this whole “reliving the old life” Alexandria’s got going for it. But I’ve found a sweater in my closet that I think you’d like to wear over the dress.” Rick tossed his sister the grey sweater that she instantly put on. “Well don’t we clean up nice”

“You miss it?” Y/N questions as she sits on the edge of the bed slipping her untied converse with ease as Rick instantly knelt down to help her by tying them. “The old world?”

“Honest? I don’t”

“Why?”

“I missed my sister, now I see her everyday” Rick stood to his feet once he tied her shoes and helped her up. “I don’t ever want to go back to rarely ever seeing you”

The first thirty minutes of the party, Y/N was approached by those simply introducing themselves to the newcomers and the occasional woman that was too curious about her pregnancy. She even had to swat someone from touching her belly. It seemed to only get worse when one of Deanna’s sons, Aiden walked over trying to do his usual shtick.

“Come here often?”

Gross. “Nope” Y/N tried to brush him off but he kept his place.

“I saw yea come in on a stretcher. Thank god a bombshell like yourself pulled through”

“I wasn’t dying”

“Ah well. Still”

“Still what? Did you not see the man glued to my side or the smallest but obvious reason why I had to be rolled into this shithole?” Y/N glared at the man while holding her belly as Aiden cleared his throat.

“I uh. Just thought you were fat—-“

“EXCUSE ME?!” Y/N scoffs about to break this man in half when Maggie cut in and physically shoved the guy back.

“Woah watch it. I was having a conversa—-“

“Yeah and it’s done, unless you want me to let her beat you to a pulp”

“Like her weak ass can even land a punch”

And without another word, Maggie moved out of Y/N’s way and she didn’t hesitate to land a good one right in the kisser. Aiden instantly fumbled back about to fight back when Reg instantly pulled his son away letting Deanna take care of the situation. But Y/N had enough of being there.

“Come on Rocky, let’s get you home before the ref realizes what happened to her bitch of a son” Maggie quickly wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders walking out of the house and heading toward the Grimes’s residence.

“Hope Daryl is having a better time than I am.” Y/N frowns feeling the sick feeling return.

Meanwhile Daryl was checking out the bike frame Aaron had shown him and while he was making a plate for the archer’s partner…Eric wobbled in.

“Hey you never told us your wife’s name”

“She’s not my—-Y/N—We ain’t married.” Daryl fumbled a bit as he had that strange old world feeling when it came to their “situation”.

Y/N Grimes is the love of Daryl Dixon’s life. Neither of them like labels.

Daryl calls her sunshine, darling, and lovely.

Y/N calls him my love, babe, and the occasional Darbear for the fun of it.

The archer calls her his partner to others and some part of him would love to use my wife.

So what’s stopping me? Daryl thought as Eric gave him a confused look after his scrambling.

“I know we just met but do you mind if I push?”

“Why do yea want to?”

“Because I feel like it. I talked to Y/N when we were both in the infirmary” Eric leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. “She’s a catch, and fate brought you two together…you don’t need a fancy wedding for a union anymore. I get some don’t like labels or whatever, but honestly, those labels are sometimes not for you…besides” He reached into his pocket tossing a ring box at the archer. “She loved that”

Such little time in the infirmary lead to a lot of unanswered questions. But Daryl found himself heading back to the Grimes’s residence with a wrapped plate of spaghetti and a ring in a velvet box. Nothing too fancy. Nothing like what the brides have in the old movies. It suited them. That’s how perfect it was.

“Hey Dixon!” Pete calls out to Daryl carrying a few things in his hands as he stalls by the steps. “Got a few things for your woman after doing a bit of research and what happened tonight”

“The fuck happen tonight?”

Pete gave him about the same level of blank staring before handing him one of those instant ice packs. “She punched the Monroe boy. Should help with the bruising. Plus found one of these pregnancy books in what we are suppose to call a library? Anyway and some nausea meds”

“Thanks…” Daryl accepted everything as he watches him leave before quickly picking up where he left off heading inside.

The archer quickly dropped the plate off on the kitchen island before making his way upstairs and into their shared room finding her still awake. Y/N still wearing the sweater her brother gave her but was finally out of that stupid dress. When she locked eyes with her partner, some part of her wished she still wore it for him to see but she was more focused on everything he carried.

“You were busy tonight”

“Uh. I guess.” Daryl brought himself to sit beside Y/N feeling her lips instantly press onto his cheek the moment he sat before resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Heard about your right hook”

“Dumbass deserved it…”

“Gotta point him out for me, so I know who to fucking show who’s boss”

“I sort of already did, but I will” Y/N laughs lightly against him, taking the offered instant ice pack to crack it and hold it on her dominant hand. “What else you’ve got?”

“I’ve got yea a plate in the kitchen. Had dinner with Aaron and his partner Eric. It was…nice. I wish you were there with me” Daryl kissed the top of her head as she snuggled up into him humming in response. “The doc also gave me meds for yea to try when it comes to your vomiting”

“I can take down fluids so I don’t need the IV anymore. That’s one good thing happening”

“That’s great” Daryl repeated the phrase once more before carefully pulling away from Y/N setting down the nausea meds along with the pregnancy book that peaked her interest—-for only a short moment.

Because the archer getting down on one knee instantly brought her attention away.

“Daryl Dixon. What are you doing?”

“Something…something stupid? I…I know about what we think of labels and shit but I can’t shake this”

“Daryl…” Y/N softens bringing herself entirely to the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been wanting to call you my wife since the last month of peace back at the prison. I want and am gonna spend the rest of my life with you…and this peanut is just. Our overflowing love onto another human being…”

“So poetic of you, Daryl Dixon…” Y/N laughs softly bringing his face into her hands as the tears instantly fell from her touch.

“I love you so much, sunshine”

“I love you so much more Darbear” She smirks hearing his annoyed laugh escape his lips as she gently wipes away his tears. “Now are you going to ask me? Because I don’t need a ring to tell the world how much I love being your wife”

Daryl gently pulls away to take the ring box out of a pocket in his vest as it surprised Y/N slightly when he opened it. It brought out a small tearful laugh to the silver arrow wrapped into a ring. It was a little cheesy but it was for them.

“Will you be my wife, Y/N Grimes?”

“I do, Daryl Dixon. I sure as fucking hell do”

It’s been about two months since then. Y/N was now six months pregnant and Alexandria went through…a lot.

The wall collapsing

The herd

Carl losing an eye

Maggie’s pregnancy announcement

Losing a lot of Alexandrians

It took about a month to fix the wall and collect themselves, slowly bringing themselves back to a sense of normal.

The morning came slowly, or slower than usual…

Y/N shifted slightly in the bed feeling the discomfort truly grow in her back once she opened her eyes. A soft groan escaped her lips which stirred Daryl awake as he lifted his head to check her face for anything but kept his hand secured on her belly.

“The baby isn’t going to kick every time your hand is there”

“She does. Sometimes”

“She huh? What happened to strong and healthy…that’s all that matters?”

“That’s still fact. Don’t mean I can wish for somethin’ on the side” Daryl whispers as he pressed a kiss to her belly which resulted in a laugh from his wife but also a kick hitting his hand. “That’s my girl”

“Rick caught me up on your supply run just the two of you…promise you’ll be safe?”

“I always do don’t I?”

“Yeah but last time you came home with a knife wound in your shoulder”

“Alright, fair enough” Daryl brought himself to sit up and help his wife do the same as Y/N gently caressed his cheek worried about him. “I promise”

“Good…”

Because I have a weird feeling about today

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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icarusredwings · 4 months ago

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i’ve already expressed how much your agere! headcanon means to me in the tags lol, but i also wanna add that you just write it really well. i stopped reading age regression fics a LONG time ago because they felt really cringey or unrealistic, but the way you’ve written it feels natural but over the top in just the right ways for Wade. It doesn’t feel fetishized at all or like that’s all he is, and it’s really nice to see it to be taken seriously in a fic setting. So thank you 😅🙏🏻

Thank you, and I did read all of that by the way, I didn't want to upset you by responding but wasn't sure if ti would be creepy to inbox you or not about it. I fully understand though and Honestly am semi in the same boat? The first step is definitely taking care of yourself and I think you have something to be proud of because you did it :)

I don't think there's anything to worry about and that's the great thing is being able to do it at your own pace and when its time, label it. if you don't want too then don't. What ever you are comfortable with because at the end of the day its for YOU.

I have two more request slots open by the way!

Yes, I found it unrealistic too especially when everything is perfect and its barley ever related back to the characters trauma rather then "Lol I'm baby, goo goo ga ga, Nothing I do has consequences apparently because 'im daddy's favorite baby girl' also I just ripped off my nappy and wet the carpet" ????? Im not kidding There is genuine things written like this. And its not satire? It feels unserious and more of a mocking or joking thing then actually helping the Charater?? if that makes sense?

Anyway- Yeah I've gotten this comment a lot that most of the stuff written is flat out fetishization or is cringy in the sense of being not thought out so it sounds soooo weird. (Again- more fetishization, Especially with the excessive ageplay ones where they're literally pretending they cant walk yet.. sexual stuff.. it's definitely not for me.)

Ive said it before but Ill say it again. What people do in their bedroom with consent is not my buisness, maybe that stuff does help some people? maybe they are just inexperienced writers and I'm misunderstanding something? Either way- Im not judging, I just wish there wasn't so many sexual innuendos in the SFW ones. like.. huh? That's the point of SFW right?

Another thing I do when writing these is I think of actual littles reading these and I think about what is going to make them happy/ feel understood and seen as someone trying to heal rather then as a massive joke.

Look- As my therapists funniest patient- Truama can be hella funny but I feel having Agere as the butt of a joke is just.. wrong.

#tw #sfw interaction only #sfw agere #poolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #deadpool 3 #KidWade #“He doesn't quite get it but he has the spirit” Caregiver Logan Howlett #logan howlett #fanfic discussion #thank you for asking!

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aicosu · 2 months ago

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Pathologic headcanons? You mentioned having a lot of them

So fucking many I dont know where to start? Maybe with bigger ones? Then character ones?

The Town/Kin

- I actually played much of p2 first before playing 1 and then returning to finish 2. So I have a lot of attachment to the Kin, and Boddho and their pov.

-I think that Boddho is an empty nesting eldritch mother. That she either is like... Illuvatar from Silmarillion (from what my husbands told me) where she came or grew from earth and wanted to make specificslly humans, but made the worms and brides and shabnaks first at her version of the Valor, or their job is to prepare the world for her true children (humans). even as "excess materials" shabnaks excess bones, worms excess muscle, and brides excess blood. But she didnt expect them to grow out of their need for her. Steppe life does eventually evolve towards integrating with the settlement and she resents creations who can create towers to heaven without her. Hence plague. But again, boddho creates creatures who are individually sentient. Even some of the proto kin seem rebellious. So I imagine the plague too, is sentient with its own ideas and goals. Poor boddho seems a bit immature and frustrated that yes. Eventually, even the plague and kin will want to grow and elvove without her.

-or shes already dead. Love the dead boddho theory, thanks andrey stamatin. That maybe everyone who hears boddho is just hearing her talk from centuries ago cause shes to unfathomable and eldritch creature to speak to. Neat! I think it doesnt hold up in 2, since you see her (someones?) Heart beating but cool.

-i do think the proto humans have preferences but dont know what a preference even is. Theres obviously (in p2, i know p1 was more an obvious patriachal straightfoward thing) brides who prefer townsfolk and brides who prefer the steppe. There are worms who like the city people they make friends with, and shabnaks that feel fear but aspire to grow ans meet and learn langauge.

Daniil Dankovsky

-trans daniil just makes so much damn sense to me its stupid like its perfect. At first I thought maybe he was amab and experiencing gender envy at the women in the town, coming to a conclusion he's in denial of why he favors their company or feels a sort of kinship with. To me, women are to Daniil what children are to Artemy. His bound in 1 as the uptopians is eh to me, but yet anytime he is speaking with Lara or Yulia, even Aspity, there is a understanding, condescending, even familial, protective frustration he has thats so complicated.

-to me that works so well as his journey as afab. Only child. Born to a young dead mother and a military man who didnt want much to do with him.

-I imagine him pursuing college and medical school for a year before his father dies and he drops out to transition. Ive seen other fans of transkovsky say he invented hrt himself, but if I think about how medical was approached or even philosphized about in patho or the older days I think he approached it by killing singular nerves and doing invasive surgey. They werent super great at the hormone or brain level and its just more... danils style to think to himself "i will literally kill what i dont need or want" (and then wearing uterus trophies on his neck because he cant brag out loud)

-which leads me to my other headcanon that this secret invasive self experiments and his success at splicing himself gave him a bit of cancer or a debilitating "mystical" disease he refuses as mystical. While i do love daniil being pompous about defeating death just cause hes pompous, I also love the idea that he wants all his cake and flowers. He succeeded in defeating gender, birth, orientation, and now its making him die? How unfair. How horrible. No one will steal his time at finally being himself not even death.

-thanatica I see as a mask over that research, too. Cause he can not come out and show himself off to substantiate his achievements. The medical world would be too distracted by the social ques to care that, hey, I've stopped cell generation. I've propugated cells. I've made parts of a body grow that stopped in the womb. Its a breakthrough he cant discuss so hes hauling in dead bodies and reanimating skin with the same methods or stacing off tuberculosis with the same technique hes using to stave off his death disease and it give him all this internal, unvalidated, seething frustration that he cant just scream what a fucking genuis he is. (He does anyway but without that to back him up)

-I think he joins the military for a year or two and assumes the identity of a dankovsky son. And the military stupidly, weirdly, validates him in his identity but also hardens him the way war does. The way death does when you have soldiers dying on your medical table. Then goes back and finishes his degree before opening thanatica.

-i hc Daniil as a messy bisexual. I think pre transistion he was always attracted to women actually, and that also motivated him to a smaller degree of well, why not get married to a lovely lady. Why not be the head of my household. Why not conquer society and genetics and death and enjoy things I could not myself feel comfortable to portray, but want to covet.

-you know and he gets to busy to actually finally indulge in that and then gets to town on ghorkan and meets artemy burakh and is like, wait, no, stop, this isnt the plan dammit.

-but I do think also that's complicated when it comes to sex and love. I can identify aapects or a gradient of a sexuality to him. Not necessarily demisexual, but his identity and his mind can get in the way of desires or even, that it takes a specific amount of vulnerability that he avoids. So maybe it's trauma or his being on the spectrum. So in his journey of self-discovery, maybe he's been a lot of whatever "labels." I think so much of labels and identity play into his vast acknlowdgement of philosophy too. Why talk about sex at all if we arent also talking about society and death and culture and etc (que daniil stopping his one night stand mid sentence to lecture about the differences of breeding expectations in different economic structures or population.)

-I ship daniil with Burakh mostly, (stamatins and block too at times) but I also ship him with the Marble Nest bride at the stillwater, who I guess is like a projected OC of mine. (Shes a special model, one of the only ones wearing jewelry and also one of the only kin whose sweet to daniil? She also seems critical of her own culture "weddings are a sad thing for us". I have a million headcanons and ideas for them two, who I think he names her Theralydice (thera for theraputrix the assitants to aescluipis or healers, therayl for feral or wild, and dice for custome or law as well as a common form for femininenames) Something heretically latin and inappropriate and artemy shakes him stupid for naming a bride at all- "but how will I refer to the only reasonable one burakh") but I wont bore you with all that crack.

OTHER:

Sorry this has already gotten so long so ill just list random other stuff.

-I think burakh is a man of little words not cause he's shy or reserved but because hes very smart about his town. He knows that information and gossip spread like wildfire. And stating his ideas, thoughts, plans, TO ANYONE so plainly (as dankovsky does) means in another twenty minutes 6 other people might find out and stop him. It's in his best interest to act stupid and complacent. It's the best idea to shrug at young vlad and go "idk maybe" because saying yes or no would maybe mean making an enemy.

-I think there are two eldritch horros now one. Aside from boddho i think the mistresses are hearing something else out there in the ether. Same as those whispers to peter about building the polyhedron. Boddho from this planet or not, something in that void is wanting to come in and use her or the earths power to its own end. Town on Ghorkon seems like an open battery everyone wants to suck dry. And while the kains can talk a big talk about plans for nina or simon, I wouldnt be suprised if someone or something kicked their souls out and took over for itself.

-I 1000 percent think Aspity is the first outbreak in human form if that wasn't already established. But I also dont think clara is. But I do love the idea that it's possible to do. In the same way, maybe annaAngell occupies Willows body? Hmm.

-also all yes to everyone is just actually dolls, but then wheres the fun in hc-ing the world lore???

#pathologic #headcanons #theyre mine headcanons not yours please dont hate me you dont have to like them

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genderqueerdykes · 3 months ago

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Any tips for surviving the summer/heat? I think I'm probably going to ask for clinical antiperspirant but I'm so fucking sweaty all the time. I do still have times where I'm cold, (mild anemia and inconsistent with my vitamin lol), but if I wear too many layers I get hot and sweat thru all my clothes the summer has truly been awful. I do acknowledge that some of my clothes might not be the most breathable either but like man...

Thankfully it's cooling down but now I have to figure out how to layer without getting damp.

you know, that's a good question, because i struggle with temperature regulation, myself! i've had to figure a lot of it out on my own

testosterone can cause a lot of hot flashes in the early stages, and when doses are missed or late, so it's good to assess how you feel on a given day before trying to do a lot of things outside. you may have to shift your plans around depending on when you're having hot flashes, but they also may be mild. clinical antipersperant very well be a good idea and it's good to check in with your HRT provider if you can look into whether or not this will be a long term thing or if you just need some treatment short term

layering very light clothing can be helpful if you need to bind or cover your chest but also dont want to run the risk of getting too hot, although i usually wear one incredibly thin layer. you may be able to get away with fairly short shorts or tank tops, but it's going to depend on what your needs are when it comes to dysphoria

try to make sure you've eaten some food before heading out into heat. not a ton but just enough to make sure your body isn't fighting for resources because i find chills and hot flashes are way worse when my body at least has something in my stomach. it's also way more likely to get nauseous from being heat sick if you are already feeling unwell in the stomach

i use a parasol sometimes and ive used an umbrella in the past when walking around a lot on foot in the sun. i don't care if anyone thinks that looks "dumb" a lot of people need to shade themselves from the sun, that's okay. sun screen will help a lot if you're able to get some, at the very least it will help the surface of your skin from overheating and contributing to your overall increase in temperature and sweating

if you're using a binder try to take breaks when and where possible so you don't overheat, start chafing, struggle to breathe, etc. even if you can go into a public bathroom stall and take it off and just breathe for a while that's better than nothing. it can become really easy to overheat or begin sweating excessively if you're wearing a binder

if you pack, try to take breaks with this as well, and if it's really hot, you may want to consider leaving it at home whenever you can as you don't want to get chafing in your genital region. wearing menstrual pads in the heat can also cause this to happen, sometimes poorly fitting underwear can do it too. this area gets very hot and sweaty so you don't want anything there that can trap in excessive heat. it is in fact okay to air out your crotch, too. people get weird about this but it's an area of the body that traps in heat and moisture. you have to spread your legs pretty damn far to actually be a problem

try to avoid traditional backpacks if you can, they're huge and they trap in heat and moisture on your back which can make you even more miserable. try to carry water on you whenever possible, especially if it can be chilled in a container and kept cold for a long time. you may find that you want to try to drink more electrolyte drinks (Gatorade, Powerade, Pedialyte, etc.) as you sweat more, as the increased sweating from testosterone will cause you to lose additional electrolytes which are necessary. if you're sweating a lot, don't drink just water, try to get some electrolyte drinks in there, because your body won't hydrate itself as well without a good balance of electrolytes

try not to carry too many things so that you don't get tired or weighed down from having a lot of heavy things on your person. when being anemic and chronically ill a lot of small things can take up a lot of energy, so try to travel light when and where possible so you're not exerting extra energy just carrying things. you can also try to consume chilled things like drinks or cold foods while outside in the sun, which can help if you start to feel overheated

if anyone else has any advice, feel free to chip in! i wish you good luck, i'm very sensitive to heat and the sun so i get it. stay safe out there, if you have any more questions feel free to ask

#asks #answers #open to response #testosterone #hrt #testosterone hrt #t hrt #hormones #hormone replacement therapy

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lives4lovesworld · 1 year ago

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Dragons, their unique and extraordinary bond and why the binder is a red herald.

“If you read Fire and Blood, you’ll know there’s definitely a bond between the dragons and their riders and the dragons will not accept just any rider,” says Martin. “Some people try to take a dragon wind up being eaten or burned to death instead, so the dragons are terribly fussy about who rides them.” - Grrm November 2018

We shall not pretend to any understanding of the bond between dragon and dragonrider; wiser heads have pondered that mystery for centuries. We do know however, that dragons are not horses, to be ridden by any man who throws a saddle on their back. - writings of Gyldayn

Most speculations around dragons, the dragonbinder and any potential riders are blatantly rooted in nonsensical delusion and pure envy of House Targaryen and the power it derived of their dragons, and the deranged need to see the dragons fight and wreak havoc to finally villainize them all once and for all the eyes of the realm as the clowns of this fandom all do in their posts, so their excessive hatred is finally validated by canon. Nowhere is all this more apparent than in the ridiculous popularity of the theories that have Stannis Baratheon, Young Griff, Victarion and Euron Greyjoy become dragon riders, and more specifically all in context as enemies to Daenaerys.

It's truly astonishing what loops people jump through to make these theories appear even the slightest bit feasible;

Even if Stannis Baratheon would survive long enough to set eyes on Dany's dragons and even if the theory in and of itself wouldn't be a pathetic attempt by his delusional stans to still present him as a viable candidate for Azor Ahai Reborn. There was not one recorded incident of a Baratheon riding a dragon, and mind you Orys Baratheon was likely Aegon’s bastard brother yet neither he nor any of his closest descendants have been dragon riders, and each of them had more blood of the dragon than Stannis. The prerequisite of even being one.

Young Griff [or FAegon or Aegon VI] tho the most feasible of all the "candidates" it is ridiculous which lengths the proponents go to, to craft scenarios, where he, always a political enemy of Dany, somehow obtains one of her sons. It's often argue that, regardless of who Young Griff truly is, Targaryen or Blackfyre, due to his blood he must be a dragon rider! An equally bold as unfounded hypothesis: i) the concept that House Blackfyre would have been dragonlords as well had the dragons not be extinct by the time the cadet branch of House Targaryen was founded is purely speculative! Neither House Celtigar nor House Velaryon, two ancient Valyrian House, had been dragonslords. Hell, not even all members of House Targaryen had been. ii) Young Griff surviving long enough to set eyes onto Daenerys's dragons is as hypothetical as Stannis's prior, and given how he is currently risking an all-open war with only 5000 sellswords at his disposal with no prior war experience against the current reign is just as unlikely. iii) However, let's assume Young Griff indeed survives long enough to do so and ends up fighting Daenerys; as already stated dragons aren't mere mounts, they choose their riders and need to bond and for that, they need a considerable amount of time, training is time-consuming as well. So how exactly would Young Griff even get the chance to bond with either Rhaegal or Viserion? In addition, Daenerys's dragons are unique to their ancestors all of them having bonds to her as their cherished mother. Despite what the fandom argues, dragons are not nuclear bombs, they would never bond with someone who would want to severely harm or even kill their mother. Lastly iv) which is purely theoretical but IMO a very solid theory: @luchibelle theorized that Magister Illyiro Mopatis put the eggs into his son's cradle after the Targaryen fashion and hoped they would hatch. The man likely attempted several times to hatch them. In vain, he gifted them to Daenerys as bride's gifts. In all likelihood to make the marriage with Daenerys for Khal Drogo more desirable, for Dany's bride's gifts are his property, which the Magister needed for his scheme of Viserys as the evil invader with his foreign army of savages for his son to defeat as the gallant Aegon VI Targaryen. However, it does further contradict the speculation of Young Griff's potential being able to bond & ride a dragon.

So far Euron and Victarion Greyjoy are the only ones actively perusing Daenerys for her dragons, name and beauty, something none of the other "candidates" do which should at least be the bare basis on these speculations if you want to call them that way. However, the unquestionable fact that the iron borns do not possess a drop of the blood of the dragon should end all speculations then and there. The unfounded idea that Euron possesses unnatural power and/or uses the horn he proclaims is a tool that can subjugate dragons should serve as a substitute for the lack of valyrian is a jump through a loop unparalleled: i) While GRRM can stress as much as he wants that Euron is much more than what he appears to be; a megalomaniac sadistic busy-body. The Forsaken shows that Euron sacrifices humans and uses tortured captive priests to perform their magic FOR him. The power does not come from him, unlike Daenerys and some of the Starks. ii) the unwillingness of this fandom to see Euron's tale of him traveling to Valyria as a lie is on the same level as its unwillingness to see Petyr Baelish's one. Valyria after the doom is hell on earth. GRRM emphasized this more than once in his lore; Princess Aerea Targaryen, Garin the Great. Hell, he even wrote this scene. Yet because some really want to see their super specific unfeasible(!) fever dreams to validate their need to punish Daenerys and House Targaryen and their dragon for being perceived as obstacles to their favorite character's rise to power, Euron Greyjoy, a minor character introduced to us in ADwD, is the first to set foot onto Valyria after more than 400 years. iii) Since we have established the truthfulness of Euron's tale, let's extend the same skepticism to the "Dragonbinder" as well; true dragonbinders were used by pure-blooded Valyrians to tamp even the ill-willed and oldest dragons. In the millennia of wars between the dragonlords of the Freehold and the rest of Essos dozen of such horns must have been lost by riders and found by other folk. If the possession of one paired with enough magical expertise and lust for dragons would been sufficient to make anyone a dragon rider, the Freehold of Valyria would not have been the only civilization to tamp dragons. So why would two Greyjoys make the exception? On top of that, why would Euron let the horn out of his sight and more importantly give it into the custody of his brother he knows has wronged and slighted more than once? And if Euron is indeed an agent of the Others, of Ice GRRM won't have him subjugate one of the embodiments of Fire, which shall be triumphant at the end of the series. Lastly, the speculation of Victarion Greyjoy as a dragon rider is a misunderstanding, likely deliberate, of Moqorro and the dialog between him and Victarion; Moqorro is a red priest sent to Daenerys so she might know she has been identified as Azor Ahai Reborn by his temple. If he is even half as frantically loyal as Melisandre is to Stannis, Moqorro would never actively try to sabotage his Chosen One by helping someone, a non-believer at that, to rob her of her dragons. Creatures that are sacred to the religion of R'hllor. Not to mention who is Victarion to Moqorro? A pillaring slave catcher who worships an agent of the Others for everything that isn't R'hllor.

If speculations around potential dragon riders do not serve to despite Dany, then they are handed out as rewards to favorites. Nevertheless, GRRM has written to many hints for the other characters to become riders, likely Tyrion and Jon Snow, despite it being incredibly repugnant to me for numerous reasons; it has been Daenerys who has to do all the hard work, who figured out how to birth them, how to raise and feed them, how to train them and deal with all the moral dilemmas. No matter what it will always be cheap, offensive and lazy to me that two characters will swoop in, become legendary as as the first dragon riders woth Danya and reap all the glory, and given of which descent they will be, a violation of GRRM own lore and rules of physic. The excuse of 'its the ending of the world' is beneath his talent.

To conclude its despicable how something as unique as the bond between dragons and their riders and the otherworldliness being of the blood grants is cheapened by all these speculations, which are almost exclusively petty fantasies that should be impossible to happen.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #dragons #Old Valyria #dragonbinder #FAegon #Young Griff #Aegon VI Targaryen #Euron Greyjoy #debunking popular speculations #✨vent time✨#stannis baratheon #victarion greyjoy

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