#writying

[daenystheedreamer]

three of my insane westeros OCs

 JEYNE WHENT: jeyne whent is a lady-in-waiting oc for danelle lothston (cough cough self insert cough). the whents were canonically sworn to house lothston and i can see their daughters being companions for them. well danelle’s maids keep dying and disappearing and it’s jeyne’s turn to be handmaiden! they have a horrible relationship which ends in danelle perishing in harrenhal not by jeyne’s hand but certainly by jeyne’s will :) 

danelle is ambiguously dragonseed idk how ive tried making the lothston family tree but fucking lucas the panhandler and manfryd and manfred keep fucking it up. basically shes got the DAWG in her. she bathes in blood elisabeth bathory style and visits the god’s eye because she believes the god’s eye is basically a time vortex and she wants dark sister. and jeyne is like bloodraven has dark sister. and danelle is like he has it NOW he didnt have it THEN. and jeyne is all girl what the fuck are you on about but she doesnt say that cos she doesnt wanna get murdered.

DAENYS TARGARYEN: ok this one is INSANE. so i have this alternate timeline au where after maegor imprisons viserys (aenys’ second son, the one who got tortured and died rip) he’s like hey whats better than 3 wives? 4 wives and one of them is my nephew (no black brides yet). maybe THATS how ill get an heir. 

so he uses blood magic to essentially omegafy poor viserys and they have three abominations children (sorry viserys): Jaehaerys, Daenys and Viserra. only death can pay for life so Jaehaerys (our Jae the Wise, in this au he gets murdered rip) died for Jaehaerys, Poxy Jeyne Poore died for Daenys and Tyanna of the Tower died for Viserra.

Daenys is Haunted by the Visions and by the ghost of Poxy Jeyne. plus her dad-mother viserys is Haunted and her dad-father maegor is maegor AND her younger sister viserra is visenya kin AND she has shameful lesbian desire for her aunt/cousin rhaena AND her cousin/step-sister/sister-in-law aerea. daenys is like what if u were raised by the most traumatised man in the world and the most evil man in the world and all your family is married to each other and you are LITERALLY an abomination AND u are gay. what then.

LILY: jeyne poore is a military leader! she needs a squire! but we are good and faithful catholics and we cant have an unmarried women with a SQUIRE besides shes not a knight shes a GIRL. okay we will give her a maid who can dress her in armour and such. and thats lily! shes very normal. isnt super gung ho about the faith militant, shes mostly just like Hey Its Kinda Fucked Up And Generally Ungodly To Be Incestuous And Polygamous. maybe she and jeyne kiss idk <3 she dies during the ambush after jeyne’s execution (rip)

[hamsternamedmarinette]

I love this series so much

[homiesexuallaj]

Red Ginseng

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x reader

Warnings/Genre: a sex pollen fic <3, porn with plot, foreplay, semi-heavy petting, fingering (fem receiving), unprotected p in v (non recommended), fluff, smut, size kink if you squint, let me know if I missed anything, not proofread because I'm lazy

———

You’d worked with the Mandalorian for a few years now. What started out as some commissioned help had developed into some lifelong work. You were good with a blaster and excellent with knifes, which you assumed in the beginning was why the Mandalorian kept you around. Now, you think he keeps you around simply for the company.

The Mandalorian is a many of few words, even this long into your partnership. He prefers to shoot first, ask later. He wasn’t also too fond of physical contact. You only felt the Mandalorian’s touch when he needed to pass you through the small hallway under the cockpit of the Razor Crest. This ship really wasn’t meant for two people..

This week, or two at this point, you’d been brought along to a forest-y planet that you couldn’t remember the name of in hopes of finally catching a bounty that the Mandalorian has been hunting for about a month now. This planet was hot and sticky. Leaves, vines, and other foliage practically soaked you when you just barely brushed past a leaf. It was irritating at this point, never being dry.

You let out a loud sigh, stomping over dead leaves and slapping away wet leaves. You were soaked through your clothes. You internally cringed at pealing your leather pieces from your body tonight. Just before a complaint crawls up your throat, an arm cut you off. You looked at the Mandalorian with scrunched eyebrows and annoyed eyes.

He only gestured ahead of you with his head.

You followed the gesture, peaking between your cover of leaves.

Ahead of you, in a shady clearing, is your’s and the Mandalorian’s bounty. It was a male Gungan with burnt orange skin and green eyes. With him was a small male Neimoidian with gray skin and gold eyes. Both were huddled around a smoking campfire, and were sopping wet and obviously malnourished. Runaway life seemed to be harder than they thought.

The Mandalorian caught your attention when he moved the arm down from in front of you.

You looked up at him, waiting to tell you what to do.

He gestured to the right with his head, indicating to circle around and trap the runaways in their clearing.

You headed off and around, careful to barely brushing by foliage and tiptoe over sticks. You positioned yourself facing the back of the Neimoidian. And you watched as your companion strutted into the clearing, the leaves of his cover dripping water onto his already shiny armor.

At the sound of a breaking twig, the runaways snapped their head in the direction of the Mandalorian. They both stood quickly, looking around nervously.

“A Mandalorian!” Exclaimed the Gungan. “What a surprise!” There was obvious panic on the creature’s face. “I didn’t know Mandalorian’s resided on this planet.”

“Perhaps he can show us to a nearby village,” The neimoidian hoped.

The Mandalorian only stayed quiet, waiting for the two to get their panicky blabbering over with. Once deemed quiet for long enough, he spoke.

“Via order of the leader of the planet Naboo,” The man started. “You two have a bounty placed on your head to be brought straight back to Her Majesty’s palace.”

“We can’t go back!” The gungan exclaimed.

The Mandalorian did not react. He only started walking towards them.

The creatures panicked and ran straight for you, the only clear way out of the semi-dry clearing. You jumped out, stopping the runaways in their path. You grabbed the small Neimoidian, trying to restrain him.

His partner, the Gungan, ran straight at you. He pushed himself against you and the Neimoidian, knocking all three of you over. It was a slick battle of trying to grab and get up at the same time.

There was a high-pitched zippering sound that caught your ears and the Gungan gasped, and you watched as he was dragged from the pile and back towards your partner.

The tussle got easier again, with only you going against one. The small Neimoidian fought and squirmed, but his small stature made it an easy fight for you. You restrained him with ease, knocking him to the ground and holding him down back and arm twisted around his back and a knee across both of his legs.

You heard a battle-ish cry and looked up.

The Gungan had leapt from the ground and onto the Mandalorian. The Gungan used his bottom half to grab onto the upper half of the Mandalorian and send them both tumbling down a small hill and into some foliage. Squabbling and scrambling was heard before the Gungan crawled back up into the clearing. He took a gasp of air before there was a shot of something and he fell to the ground.

You’d thought for a moment that the Mandalorian had killed him out of frustration, which wouldn’t have been the first time.

The Mandalorian came out from the foliage, his shoulders heaving as he caught his breath. His chest place and lower left part of his helmet was covered in this sticky looking red pollen, no doubt from a flower or two. As you looked him over, you saw a blaster in his right hand.

“Only a stunner,” The Mandalorian said. “Don’t worry.”

Without another word, he pointed the stunner at the Neimoidian and shot before the creature could get in his pleas. He went limp with sleep, finally.

You both picked up your respective bounties and hauled them over your shoulders. You made your way through the foliage and towards the ship. After you figured enough time had passed for the Mandalorian to catch his breath you started talking.

“What is that stuff?” You asked, hoping he knew that you were talking about the pollen.

“Pollen from a flower I’ve never seen before,” The Mandalorian answered, his voice slightly gruff. “It got under my helmet.”

“I hope there’s no side affects to inhaling the stuff,” You wondered.

“I hope not,” Your partner sounded disgruntled.

You thought back to the time where you tripped and fell into a garden of flowers you’d never seen before. All was fine and dandy until about halfway through that job. You’d becoming loopy and tripped over your feet about every other step. There was no way you’d be able to help the Mandalorian now, so he hauled you over his shoulder, much like he’d done to the Gungan now, and brought you back to the Razor Crest. He sat you down in your bunk, which was one of two bunks in the Razor Crest, and told you very sternly to stay. And off he went.

You don’t remember what you said during that time, but you hope it was nothing too embarrassing.

Once you two arrived at the ship, the Mandalorian encased both bounties in a block of carbonate and slowly got settled into the ship for the night. The Mandalorian disappeared in the refresher to shower and clean his armor and you wandered into the shared space of yours and the Mandalorian’s impromptu shared closet/bedroom space.

It was a small nook in a semi-hidden corner in the bottom half of the Razor Crest. The only light over here was a small lamp you’d bought for the space and the dim lights from your bunks. There were shelves and racks here for clothes, towels, blankets, shoes, and other necessities.

Taking advantage of the limited time of the Mandalorian showering and cleaning his armor, you peeled off your soaked clothes and limited pieces of leather armor. It was more a struggle that it needed to be, but soon enough you were free from your uncomfortably wet prison and it was a wet pile on the ground. You changed into some looser, brown cloth pants and a large white sleeveless shirt, with some socks and a knife around your waist to accompany you. You patted your hair dry with a towel before brushing it out and picking up your wet clothes and towel. You hung the clothes on a nearby rack that was below a vent in the ship, hoping to dry them off before the day tomorrow.

You sighed, stretching a bit. The hiss of the refresher door opening caught your attention and you turned.

The Mandalorian made his way from the steaming doorway, clad in some now shiny steel armor.

“Feel better?” You asked, still observing him.

He hummed in affirmative, making his way past you and up the ladder to the cockpit.

You followed.

When you found you footing on the cold, metal floor of the cockpit, you saw that the Mandalorian was already typing in coordinates for Naboo.

“We’re not taking off already, are we?” You asked, coming up beside him to watch as he pressed buttons.

“No,” The Mandalorian answered. “But I would like to get up early and take off as soon as possible.”

“Why? Is this planet to wet for you?” You teased. “Or are there too many weird, stinky flowers.”

The Mandalorian only looked at you, before turning his attention back to the buttons so he could finish what he was doing. Once done, you noted that the armored man hobbled his way over to his captain’s chair and groaned as he sat, subtly clutching his right side.

Upon not so close inspection, you could see blood seeping out from his black flight suit and pouring over his metal belt, the black cloth damp across the ribcage on the Mandalorian’s right side.

“Mando, you can’t even take the time to stitch yourself up in the shower?” You scolded lightly.

He knew what you were talking about immediately, “It wasn’t bleeding in the shower.”

“Mando.” You scolded.

He only sighed.

“C’mon,” You gave a sigh of your own after a few heartbeats. “Let’s get you stitched up.”

You made your way down to the second level of the Razor Crest first, knowing that the Mandalorian wouldn’t have to take much convincing to follow you down.

While you dug around for a medpack, the Mandalorian sat down on a crate, awaiting your instruction.

Once you found a medpack, you drug over another crate and set that medpack on top of that, opening it and making sure it had all the supplies you needed.

“Alright, armor off,” You order around first.

The Mandalorian unclasped his chestplate and abdomen armor from his torso. Then he removed his cape, setting all pieces to the side. You did the next parts yourself.

You pushed up his shirt and slowly inched down the tight cloth he wore around his mid to lower abdomen until you had clear view of the cut that made its home on the Mandalorian’s right side.

The cut was long and jagged, looking like whatever cut him had torn its way forcefully through the layers of cloth and into the skin. The Mandalorian was lucky that whatever cut him didn’t cut him deep, but it was still needed-stitches deep.

Before continuing, you went and grabbed a washrag and wet it in the refresher’s sink before settling back down at the Mandalorian’s side and wiping off the blood that had smudged around the wound, revealing the golden skin that hid under the armor.

It wasn’t the first time seeing the Mandalorian’s skin, having needed to stitch him up a few times now, but it still caught you by surprise, especially when you could see the muscle rippling under his flesh with every move. It was still distracting, especially as the Mandalorian stretched an arm over his head so you could work with more area.

You shook your head slightly, willing away your distracted brain. After a few more wipes against the skin, all blood was gone. You grabbed a bottle of medical alcohol and damped the rag with the liquid, wiping and the dabbing the wound with that now, hoping to kill off any chance of infection. And next, the stitches. You grabbed a sterile needle from the medpack and situated a thing of thread through the eye. You glanced up at the Mandalorian, anxiety making you nervous.

“Ready?” You asked, giving the Mandalorian a few moments to compose himself.

He nodded.

The Mandalorian never really reacted when you stitched him up, but the tense muscles and the clenching of fists was the tale tell sign of discomfort and pain.

Upon the first stab of the needle, the Mandalorian sucked in a breath and you heard the squeak of leather as the Mandalorian clenched his fists.

“Breath, Mando,” You told him. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

It was a slow process of stitching up the jagged wound, but in order to close it properly you had to take your time. Before long, you were done. You tied the stitch off and cut the thread with some small sheets you kept in the medpack. In order to keep the wound clean, you packed some firm cotton around the wound and wrapped some gauze around his abdomen to both keep out germs and hold the cotton in place. You gathered up the medical supplies and turned to put most of it back into the medpack, and threw the used and unclean stuff, like the needle, away. After getting the area situation again, you crowded into the Mandalorian’s space, checking that the gauze was tight, but not too tight.

“Okay,” You patted the Mandalorian down. “I’ll have to check the wound and change the bandages tomorrow morning.”

He nodded.

To check, you poked around the wound again, to make sure there was no excess bleeding. Upon touching a tender spot, the Mandalorian groaned and grabbed onto your waist, the closest thing for him to grab.

On instinct, you jerked your hand away and froze at the contact. A shiver erupted from the grasp and traveled outwards through your body and a hint of heat bubbled in your lower abdomen. It was still moment before your touch sense picked up on something else, how hot his hands were. Not on an attractive scale, but on a temperature scale. From the scarce touches that the Mandalorian provided you, you knew that his hands were abnormally hot. Without thinking, you reached down between the Mandalorian’s legs and placed the inside of your wrist on the man’s upper thigh, noting that the heat radiating through the pants was abnormal as well.

Full on concern, you spoke, “Mando, you’re running a temperature!”

At your words and touches, the Mandalorian adjusted his hips, dragging your attention to the tense cotton between his legs.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” You tore your hand away from his thigh. “I-I was just checking your temperature, I promise! When I was little my mom used to check my temperature this way!”

The Mandalorian only groaned in response, gripping your waist tighter and hanging his head, which ended up resting on your stomach.

“But I think you’re sick, Mando,” You held your arms up and away from the man’s body, not sure where to put them.

The armored man only groaned again before a strained voice broke its way through the static of his modulator, “Hot. It’s so hot..”

“Okay umm,” You hesitated. “Do I have permission to take the rest of your armor and shirt off? It should help you cool down.”

You felt the Mandalorian nod, so you got to work with unclasping his shoulder and forearm armor and setting the pieces on the ground. Carefully you inched the t-shirt off and over his helmet, and found out that the overheating man wore two shirts and inched off the long sleeved turtleneck he wore to keep his skin concealed from the world. And finally you took off his gloves. With all these clothes on, you wondered when he had the time to get sun and make his skin such a golden tan. It had to have been when you’re not around, or busy with something inside the ship.

The Mandalorian still rested his head against your stomach and his hands had wandered down from your waist to your thighs, gripping the flesh.

Letting your eyes wander before the Mandalorian sat back up, you noted that his back was wide and rippled with muscle at every breath. The skin was littered with scars, big and small, short and long. The perks of being a bounty hunter, I guess.

You tried to keep your hands to yourself, you really did, but the temptation to rest your hands upon the Mandalorian's shoulders was too much. You gave into the temptation and the man jumped below you before relaxing under your touch.

After a few more heaving breaths, the Mandalorian sat up and looked up at you. You could feel his intense gaze boring into you from underneath a heavily tinted visor of his helmet. His large hands squeezed at the fat of your thighs again before he tried to speak.

"I need you," The man croaked out.

"Wha-?" You were shellshocked at the confession.

"Please," He practically begged. "I can't-"

He could barely finish his sentence before a shivered flowed throughout his body and a groan forced itself passed the Mandalorian's vocal chords.

"Ok-okay," You agreed, nervous. "What-what do I do?"

You could barely get the words from your mouth before the Mandalorian stood at his full height. You hands fell from his shoulders and he gripped your own, his large hands engulfed the area. Gently but urgently, the tall man pushed you backwards. You had no idea where you were going until your surroundings became overcast and you were dead-legged by a firm object behind you. You fell and the plush surface of an unmade bed caught you. The overwhelming smell of manly musk and leather were tell-tale signs that you'd been pushed into the bottom bunk of the small sleeping lofts, the Mandalorian's bunk.

Metal sliding against metal filled the small area and the bunk became dark, too dark to see. You could hear a small "hiss" from somewhere above you and a "clank" of metal being dropped to the ground.

A hand patting around on the side of your face, fingers gently finding their way around. A finger found your lips and within a heartbeat it was replaced by a pair of lips. You jumped in surprise, grabbing onto the body that hovered over you, meeting thick biceps.

The Mandalorian leaned down onto his forearms, one hand resting against the side of your face. He kissed and kissed, switching between quick pecks or smooches. A shiver passed over his body and you heard a groan and a quiet "smack" of a mouth opening. You met the man's open mouth with one of your own, and the Mandalorian practically plunged his tongue into your mouth.

Your tongues danced and teeth found lips, tugging slightly. The Mandalorian pulled away for a moment before nosing his way over the right side of your face and burying himself into your neck. He started out with kissing all over, searching for sweet spots, before leaving open mouthed kisses all over. He accompanied the wet kisses with nips of teeth and the sucking of skin.

At a particularly harsh nip you gasped, "Mando!"

"Din," The Mandalorian breathed out.

"Huh?" You questioned through a foggy brain.

"My name," The Mandalorian answered. "It's Din."

You nodded, hoping that the Mandalorian, Din, would feel your response.

Din moved over to the left side of your neck, giving this side the same treatment.

You felt one of his arms move and you felt a tug at your waistline. A quiet hiss of fabric rubbing against fabric told you that Din was untying the tie at the waist of your pants. You let it happen, gladly. After the loosening of the tie, you could feel your pants and underwear being pushed down. You helped Din out, lifting your hips and using your hands to help shimmy the clothes down your legs. You kicked the fabric away. Instinctively, you tried to close your legs at the cool air against your center, but the body between your legs prevented that. You jumped at the feeling of foreign fingers exploring your lower lips. They traced the skin before dipping into the slit and feeling up the wet flesh hidden away. Din's fingers danced all around, feeling you up and almost trying to mesmerize the new area of flesh. They traveled up and up before skimming against your clit. You hissed at the contact, gripping Din's left bicep tighter. He doubled back, finding your sweet spot.

"Here?" The man asked, rubbing your clit with two fingers.

"Yeah," You breathed out.

The warmth and presence of a body left you as Din sat up. His fingers began rubbing and circling themselves around and on your clit. His other hand gripped at your hip, attempting to keep you still.

You gripped at the wrist of the man's left hand, the one gripping your hip. You whined and moaned, squirming below the man. Due to the special attention and desperation, it didn't take you long to climb to your peak. Your pelvis tightened and tightened.

"You gonna cum?" Din asked, his own arousal evident in his voice.

"Y-yes, sir!" You answered.

Din kept the same pace and pressure and before long you were crying out and squirming. Din kept his fingers moving, helping you ride out your orgasm. But the man kept moving, driving you into overstimulation. You tried to pull Din's hand away from your clit but he captured both your wrists in his left hand and kept moving his hand until you tried to close your legs.

You took a deep breath and relaxed, skin cold due to a light sheen of sweat. You tried to catch your breath and Din pulled his fingers away from your clit. Only a few seconds after did you feel a prodding against your vaginal hole. Din's already wet fingers and your soaking arousal made it easy for Din to edge his one finger inside of you. It wasn't hard to do and you felt his finger, whichever one it was, press itself against your cervix. The Mandalorian gave a few gentle pumps of his finger, bringing out gasps and moans from you.

You yelped a bit, Din's finger pressing uncomfortably against your cervix.

"Two-" You tried to speak between breaths. "Two fingers."

A grunt answered you and Din pulled his singular finger out before pressing two against your opening. He slid in with ease. It was uncomfortable at first, but after a few squelching pumps of the man's fingers you relaxed.

Sensing your relaxed state, Din pulled his fingers from your cunt, which caused a noise of protest to sound from your chest. You could hear the shuffling of clothes and the drop of fabric onto the floor. Din sat you up and moved around you, laying down and taking up your place on the bed. You felt hands grab at you and urge you in a certain direction.

You followed his hands, moving up and over to straddle the Mandalorian. You were surprised to find that the man had already discarded his armor, pants, and boxers. You hovered over Din's pelvis and felt around for his cock. Your searching hand skimmed over Din's dick and you heard the man take in a sharp breath. You grabbed the member, taking note of it's girth, length, and a vein that traveled up the side. You adjusted your body and pressed your vaginal hole over DIn's dick. The head stretched you out a bit more than his fingers and you whimpered at the feeling. A few more presses down and the head practically popped into you. You sighed, sinking down more until you and Din were pelvis to pelvis.

"Comfortable?" Din asked, obviously breathless below you.

"Umm it's-" You tried to get words past you tongue. "Something doesn't feel right."

"Here," Din gripped your hips and forced you down more onto his pelvis.

The movement caused Din's cock to press wonderfully and overwhelmingly against your cervix. You cried out, gripping onto Din's biceps again.

At the adjustment, Din started shallowly thrusting up into you. His hands wandered up from your hips to your abdomen. He gripped your loose t-shirt and pulled it up and off your body. Both of you were now completely naked.

"Gods..," Din breathed out.

He gripped your hips once again, urging you to move on top of him. The meeting of your pelvises was made apparent by a slapping sound. You couldn't help but throw your head up, eyes squeezing shut. You still gripped onto Din's biceps. Din groaned and gasped below you, growling as his thrusts became harsher.

In an almost too-quick-to-process movement, Din gripped your hair into a ponytail in one of his hands and pulled you down by an arm around your shoulder blades. He smashed your lips together so hard to almost hurt. He opened his mouth almost instantly, invading your mouth with his tongue. You wrapped your arms around his head and gripped his hair. His messy, wavy hair caught you by surprise, having never actually seen or felt his hair. You wondered what color it was.

The Mandalorian pulled you from your thoughts when he pulled away and buried his face into the left side of your neck, resuming his previous kissing and nipping. At a rather harsh nip, you pulled the man's hair and Din groaned.

Almost out of nowhere, Din's thrusts up into you sped up and lost their rhythm. His body tensed and you inferred that Din was getting close to his own orgasm. You could feel his heartbeat speed up below you and his breathing become ragged.

"Bite me," You begged.

Din made a questioning noise below you.

A moan forced itself as a sob from your throat and you begged pitifully, "Bite me- bite me- bite me!"

Din listened to your cock drunk babbling and sunk his teeth into your neck. With a muffled groan and the tightening of his jaw, Din reached the peak of his orgasm. Slowly, his harsh thrusts slowed and he relaxed, still keeping himself buried in you. The man unsunk his teeth and let your hair go, letting his head fall back into a pillow and wrapping his other arm around you.

You relaxed into Din's sweaty, hot body. You waited until you caught your breath before speaking.

"You feel better?" You asked.

"Yes," Din answered with a sigh. "Thank you."

You responded with a hum.

"Can we..," Din hesitated. "Can we stay like this for a little bit?"

"Of course," You tell Din. "For as long as you want."

[redvelvetcupcakes21]

Buck: You got me flowers?

Tommy: Yeah, I mean, who doesn't want flowers, right?

Buck: *breathes in bouquet of roses* I never get flowers, well unless they're "get better" flowers. I've gotten a bunch of them. You're the first person I've dated that's given me flowers though.

Tommy: *turning a bit red* uh...this isn't the first time I've given you flowers.

Buck: 🤨

Tommy: I actually sent you flowers after the firetruck bombing. I called Chim when I saw the news report since I knew the 118 was involved and he told me you were alive but seriously injured so I sent you flowers.

Buck: 😳

Tommy: I didn't really write anything significant on the card and I'm sure you got a bunch of people sending you things at that time so -

*Buck pulls Tommy by his shirt and kisses him*

[definegodliness]

Conservator

Upon the banks of river Strang I circle back to origin, alike the hesitant sun Rise after you waved goodbye, stratocumuli; Fingers in the sky, and all my porcelain Dreams, reduced to susurrus, then silenced Until I turned a stranger to myself; foreign in The Xanadu of my most infantile convictions Where Rodin's eternity would taste of cherry Chap stick, and your waltzing Bougival smile Is painted as perfect as all those starry nights We spent, expecting to fly.

--- 4-10-2024, M.A. Tempels ©

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you guys wanna see a thing I tried writing? It's pretty unfinished and I don't think I will finish it but it was fun to play with and it might be okay as a lil snippet! I also have like no energy for drawing right now but I wanna post something lol

(The context is Cross and Killer are alone on a mission in some unspecified au when Killer goes stage 3)

“Killer?”

Cross looked over when he got no response, half expecting Killer to have wandered off in some direction as he did on these longer jobs. His loyalty to Nightmare was often at war with his attention span in the field, and you could expect a job to take longer if it was anywhere a cat was liable to appear.

What he didn’t expect was to catch sight of Killer’s wildly fluctuating soul glinting in the reflection of the knife that was coming right for him.

Cross managed to lunge back just in time for the knife to arc downwards into the snow in his place. Its wielder slowly turned his head, tracking the path to where Cross was now. His empty eye sockets gushed with more ooze than usual, stare somehow colder than the ice he was now shaking from his blade.

“Killer…” Cross began, trying to keep his tone steady and authoritative like a warning. He was ever hopeful that this was some stupid game Killer was playing out of boredom, but that hope died as he watched some of the black goop begin to drip out of the corner of the other’s mouth.

That only happened when he went stage 3.

Shit.

Cross felt his soul drop. He’d never dealt with Killer like this alone, usually they handled him as a team if Nightmare wasn’t there to take over. In the time it would take him to look down at his phone to call for help there would probably be a knife in his head.

This was fine. He could handle it. He always had more training and stamina than Killer anyway, he just had to play keepaway with his life long enough to go home with it.

Killer teleported in front of him, something that caught Cross off guard. In his right mind, Killer almost never seemed to use his magic in fights unless he wanted to fuck around with the other. 

[Put the fight part here idk pretend there was a really cool fight, it was so cool, you loved it]

Cross felt his soul drop again, but this time the rest of his body followed. Killer was using his gravity magic to hold him to the ground, and was shambling towards him ready to finish things. Cross struggled for a moment to see if he could fight his way out of the magic’s hold, but to no avail. He was pinned as his assailant now stood threateningly over him, knife raised. In a flash of desperation, he reached out both hands and grabbed Killer’s ankles, quickly moving his head to one side as a bone attack pierced up out of the snow and struck the other in the jaw.

It wasn’t his strongest attack, but it was enough to knock Killer backwards and stun him. As Cross felt his soul being released from the other’s magic, he quickly scrambled forward and sat on Killer’s chest as he lay sprawled out in the snow, pinning his arms down on either side of his head as he began to come back around. His face was leaking so much determination from every crevice that at that point it was hard to make out an expression under it all, but Cross could tell he was frustrated as he felt the rumble of bone attacks beginning to rise up out of the snow around them.

He followed suit, carefully forming a line of his own bone attacks closely around them to act as a barrier. He could feel Killer’s attacks bouncing off of his, each hit more desperate and frantic than the last like an animal clawing at the sides of its cage. He felt some magic encircling his soul again, but this time trying to raise him up rather than push him down. It was weaker than before, whether because Killer’s attention was split with still launching bone attacks or because he was beginning to tire out, but Cross managed to fight against it and stay put.

“Killer!” he barked, leaning over the other’s face. “That’s enough. You’re not going anywhere until you pull yourself together!”

The gravity magic seemed to cease at his shout, so Cross continued in the fervent hope that he was getting through to him.

“We’ll stay here all night if that’s what it takes, but I’m reporting back to Nightmare when this is over and I’m not leaving without you! Do you hear me?! I don’t care if I have to bring you back hogtied over my shoulder, I’m not gonna hurt you and I’m not gonna let you kill me!”

He didn’t realise he’d been shouting until the clinking and scraping of bone attacks had slowed and stopped altogether, and it was just the sound of his promise echoing off the bones and snow surrounding them.

And the strange gurgling sound coming from below him.

He opened his eyes again in confusion and stared down at the skeleton weakly fighting against his grasp, determination pooling and soaking into the snow from every gap in his skull. It took a second longer than he’d like to admit for Cross to realise that sound was Killer choking on it.

His bone attacks shrunk back into the ground and he shot backwards, landing ungracefully on his backside with a little curse. He hurried to pull Killer up and help him lean forward, swatting his back as he retched and spat the toxic goop up onto the ground where they’d just fought.

It was never an elegant dismount from these things, they’d found there was just no dignified way to get out a ribcage worth of black ooze. After a minute of heaving and gasping, Killer finally got a hold of himself and started glancing frantically around.

“Where’s Dust??” he managed to choke out with the urgency of a parent who’d lost their child. It always seemed to be the first thing on his mind when he came to from one of these episodes, Cross was never really sure why since any other time it seemed like they hated each other.

“He’s at home,” Cross assured, pressing one hand to Killer’s spine for support. “It’s just us, we were on a mission.”

He could see now that Killer’s soul had calmed down from the pulsating mass of spikes it was a few minutes ago and become somewhat soul shaped, still twitching nervously but a far calmer sight than before. That was a good sign that the attack was over. He wondered how much control Killer had over it, since he’d definitely seen it turn that way without having to go through a fight to the death first, but it was rare.

Cross flinched as he felt Killer grab him again, though this time instead of kicking him in the ribs he simply held on for dear life. That was another clear sign, after he was done puking up whatever goop had built up he usually cried for a while.

It was odd, especially the first few times, to see someone who always seemed so disconnected and unphased have a sobbing breakdown after trying to kill you.

“Hey,” Cross said, voice hushed as he wrapped his arms around the skeleton trembling in his lap. “It’s okay… you’re okay…”

Cross had never been the best at comforting words, but he knew Killer just needed someone to cling to while he got a hold of himself, and he was content to be that for a little while. Especially after being thrown around so much, his aching bones were more than happy for an excuse to sit in the snow for a bit. He could feel Killer’s soul being pressed against his chest as he wept silently into Cross’s shoulder, the fear and regret seemed to be radiating from it like smoke from a smothered flame.

He wondered idly if this was what Nightmare could feel all the time.

...

He also wondered just how hard it was going to be to get these black stains out of his jacket again once he pried Killer's face off of it.

[avalonia320]

Galladrabbles: Autumn

Of course I interpreted Autumn as Halloween, as one does. Thanks to @millennium-time-machine for the @galladrabbles prompt!

“Hey!” Mickey  jumped a mile when he’d turned the corner to see the guy standing there staring at him silently. Well, he thought the guy was staring , hard to tell under that creepy ass clown mask. “Halloween was last night. All I got left is tricks so fuck off.” 

The guy didn’t move. Exasperated, Mickey stomped over. “The fuck-” he froze. It’d been a year but that posture…that hair - God, he’d know him anywhere. 

“Gallagher,” he tried to sound angry, but when he pulled off the mask to reveal the tear filled eyes, his anger crumbled. “Dammit, Ian. Come here.” 

[little-frog-writes]

I started picking out outfits for my mermaid AU, but got sidetracked with skirts. I feel like the more reasonable thing to wear while out on the sea is pants or shorts with knee high boots, but Mirabelle looks so good in a skirt! She is so pretty and I can’t get over it. I ended up doing a lot of skirt studies instead of getting anything done, again… below I have close ups of each drawing. Enjoy!

[twost3ps]

I reread your swap au and the fact you didn't decide why Michael give Adadm the forbidden fruit, the thing that cause everything to went wrong and I can't help but think,

What if no one knows why Michael did it? That it's a point of contention for Heaven, Michael was the good one, the well behave one, the one who followed the rules and suddenly, he seemingly lose his mind one day and did the one thing that can't be forgive and through his deed, the blight that is Hell formed

The Hell you describe in the au sound like a Hellish Wonderland in the sense of Alice in Wonderland, a dreamlike unreality where you are being hunted, and who better to rule the world were minds are torn asunder than the one who lost his mind and the one who eat souls to regain his

Honestly, why Micheal gave Adam the pear is sort of a mixed bag.

What I had planned at the time was Micheal had become more influenced by his brother. Lucifur still had ideas that are shunned by the angels

In this, Micheal comes to question his purpose as God's sword and leader of the heavens army. He has, even before Lucifer brought up his own doubts. Why is he the face of judgment when all things are just? In a way, he feels like a black sheep. Gabriel relays messages, and Uriel explores ideas, Lucifer creates things. Even Rapheal, who does not need to really heal any physical injuries, spreads gospel and keeps up the happiness (emotional and spiritual healing). Micheal is fighting for a battle he does not know of yet. He's really questioning his purpose here.

But Micheal isn't made to imagine either. Lucifurs mind is a bit more complex (for me, he's the angel of imagination and creativity), so Lucifurs ideas are still hard for him to comprehend. They make some sort of sense, but they also go against God which tweaks him out.

Everything is making him paranoid. He doesn't know what side to take. He wants to stay loyal to his father, but Lucifur is making some sort of sense to him.

But like lucifer with lilith, he's also influenced by love.

Adam is his everything. He'd fallen head over heels. While he doesn't want to stray from gods word, he wants Adam.

There is also a bit of a complex of Lucifer being gods favorite because why is Lucifer the favorite what Mike does everything he's told but that's very minor

The collective (lucifer, his down doubts, and adam) make the pear decision happen

God knew that Lucifur and Lilith would rebel. He realized the instance he created him from the star, which is why Micheal was made, to balance him out and ultimately take him down. They were equals. However, when the day came and it was Micheal and Adam, it was a shock.

That's why the punishment was so extreme. Because it was never planned. And no one, not even God, saw it coming. Had he seen Adam being influenced beforehand, maybe God would have just stripped Adam of his fertility.

Micheal is also deeply hurt that Lucifer and Lilith didn't stand up for the in the end. It was Lucifer that influenced him and Lillth who would then influence Adam. Maybe it was the fear and shock of punishment but Michael grew mad at that betrayal as well. (He thinks they're frauds and cowards)

The collective and Adam going insane for many many years is what drives Micheal to be very cold and unforgiving as a ruler.

Micheal does keep to his roots, angel of judgemnt of all that. Weirdly enough, he still believes in God's judgemnt still and while he may not think Adam deserved it, he knows that he did and so does every sinner that comes through. After years of killing it's just the norm for him and he feels very little or nothing at all. All they are is stock that deserves little treatment, and that perma death is gift to them.

But overall, Micheal has a lot of it, it's just covered by a calm mask. He's gently calm amongst his family but he'd snap if anything bad happened to any of them

[thatoneweird014]

tsp fandom i have a crumb for you

[adelaidedrubman]

KINKTOBER DAY 7: RISKY PLACES for faith x jenna | from prompt list by starsandskies summary: faith and jenna take a break from bliss production — and from lab safety protocol.  wordcount: 2.5k notes/warnings: NSFW! in the sense of explicit sexual content and in the sense of OSHA violations. sex in the chem lab. flop styles, it’s a failsex production. shower sex, technically. author is a faith is a pillow princess tease truther. author is a faith is stinky gross truther (/affectionate, horny). potential secondhand embarrassment. you can get a visual on the footwear described for faith here, if you’re so inclined.

“Not at the lab station,” Jenna panted as she caught Faith by the small of her back to interrupt her effort to push herself up by her palms to sit atop the table, gently guiding her down from tiptoes. 

“It’s covered in glassware,” she answered to Faith’s drawn out whine of protest, kissing away the matching pout. “And we can’t risk it breaking,” she said softly against the side of her mouth. “Far too great a safety hazard, when…” 

Jenna gulped, spell momentarily broken as she recalled a rather unfortunate reality, taking a step back and trailing her gaze down Faith’s shapely legs to her feet.

She nodded in gesture towards the hastily slipped on latex gloves stretched up to her ankles, empty fingers flopping past the length of her toes to create a resemblance to a bizarre pair of bright blue udders — Faith’s latest clever effort to evade Jenna’s strict enforcement of the ‘closed toe footwear must be worn in the lab at all times’ policy. 

“... when those would hardly offer much protection from broken glass,” she finished, clearing her throat and lifting her head to put the display out of sight, and hopefully out of mind. 

“You make the choice where to take me, then,” Faith replied, tacking an extra trill onto the double entendre. “But you better hurry,” she added in sing-song, tugging playfully at the waistband of Jenna’s slacks. 

Jenna hummed in consideration, throwing her head to the side to look over her shoulder at the expanse of the lab as Faith worked unbuckling her belt and pressing kisses to the freshly exposed column of her neck. 

The sample storage freezer. No, she wasn’t particularly in the mood for temperature play. She craned her neck further. 

The Bliss barrel loading dock. Well, they were safely sealed, but there was always the possibility of a machinery misfire, and the shortcomings in Jenna’s curriculum vitae included not being forklift certified. 

The exam table. A perfect option, if only it had been recently sterilized. As it were, moving on. 

The safety shower and eyewash station. She smiled. 

What better place to safely conduct their impromptu lab hook-up than the safety shower? 

“Have a bit of patience, darling,” Jenna chided, snaking a hand up Faith’s skirt and grasping tight onto her ample backside as she turned her in the direction of the shower and began walking them towards it in a sloppy, groping waltz. “It is a virtue.”

“I’m not so interested in virtue right now,” Faith replied, undoing the final buttons of Jenna’s pants — and causing them to pool at her ankles, so that she had to waddle the remaining few steps to the stall. 

“Well,” Jenna replied, allowing a second hand to join the first under Faith’s skirt as they reached their destination, one on each cheek to squeeze and spread. “Far be it for me to keep you from pursuing whatever does interest you.” 

With that she braced herself and tightened her grip at the top of Faith’s thighs, tensed her muscles to hoist and lift Faith to set atop the basin of the eyewash station — her slender arms trembling and nearly giving out, unable to support the weight with their lack of power — Jenna worked out at the library, as she’d heard the kids say these days, after all. 

Still, she somehow managed to lift Faith high enough she could get the rest done herself, doing the kindness of sighing in appreciation as if Jenna had really been the one to earn it. Sighing in that dreamy way that was all warm whispering breezes and perfumed haze settling over the world, that managed to make the space between them airy and bright, yet sticky and dense at the same time. Like a storm settling in.  

Faith pushed back the sleeve of Jenna’s lab coat to begin pressing kisses up the length of her inner forearm that carried that same feathery light electric current.

“You know nothing could stop me,” she hummed against the pulse of Jenna’s wrists, followed by her teeth catching the thick rimmed cuff of her protective gloves and pulling to peel the latex from her skin in slow, teasing crawl that caused her skin to pull tight and pimple. 

No, Jenna thought as she shivered at the snap of the glove springing fully freed to hang from Faith’s mouth, nothing likely could. Her beguiling little force of nature, her darling little marvel of the universe she could spend an eternity watching in awe. 

So engrossing she could barely even think to lecture her about not putting things that might have toxic residue in her mouth. 

Instead, she simply brushed a thumb against pink lower lip to pry it from top and knock the glove to the ground, forgotten. 

She certainly couldn’t dwell on it as Faith took the thumb into her mouth to teasingly suckle before guiding the hand between her legs and beneath the lace of her underwear. 

She glanced to the side and trailed her eyes along the curves of Faith’s legs, briefly considering replicating the gesture to remove the obnoxious sight of the gloves her lover donned on lower extremities — thinking better of it as she glimpsed the flaking brown of dried river mud braceleting her ankle. There was such a thing as too much toxic residue to ignore. 

Instead, she focused on slipping her fingers inside Faith and working them to a steady curl-then-stiffen rhythm, delighting in the easy glide they found. 

“My, my,” Jenna purred at the trembling ridge of Faith’s jaw. “Someone’s well lubricated.” 

She smiled as Faith responded with a hook of her leg around Jenna’s waist to pull her in and a demanding rise in pitch and volume to the melody of breathy moans. Faith was the only woman Jenna had ever been with who never chastised her for the overly clinical dirty talk. 

The thought made need assert itself freshly in her body, warmth surging in the pit of her stomach and bubbling upward to flush across her chest, blessedly just as Faith’s fingers began undoing the buttons of her blouse to slip beneath her bra and squeeze a nipple. 

“No,” Faith huffed as Jenna shrugged to shuck clothing from her torso completely, pulling the stiff white lapel of her jacket back up to her shoulder and patting it in place. “The lab coat stays on.” 

Jenna laughed into their kiss in indulging agreement, rewarding Faith for the flattering flight of fancy by working her fingers harder and faster. 

She felt a burn grow in her forearm from the effort as Faith began to flutter and tighten, her own hips rocking in rhythm as she sought the friction of its steady pressure. 

She pushed herself further, powering through the pop and crackle of her overworked joints (there had yet to be an invention of medical science to counteract aging past thirty) and losing herself to the sweet chorus it created with Faith’s gasping moans, fading into the background as a low, steady creaking. 

It all so paired so perfectly, a subtle slick slap that punctuated every thrust, the ‘oh, oh’ that every cry of her name stuttered into, the throb throb of her pulse in her ears, the creak, creak creak snap — 

Thud. 

Jenna blinked eyes open to the sight of the glistening pink of her fingers still outstretched in front of her but decided bare of breathtaking blonde sitting atop them. 

“Ow!” 

Then down to the woman now sprawled on the floor at her feet, face scrunched in pain and hand reached behind her to rub at her tailbone, water pooling beneath her. 

Water? 

Then up midway to the basin of the eyewash station, now hanging crooked, ripped from the wall from the force of the weight, exposed pipe spewing water where it was once mounted. 

“Ah,” Jenna noted thoughtfully, rinsing her fingers under the freely streaming water and reaching and turning to step from the stall and fetch the first-aid kit. “Do you need me to call for medical —” 

“No.” Faith cleared her throat, a brief gravel before she smoothed her voice and skirt and rose to her knees, scooting sideways and out of the water of the sprung leak. “Let’s worry about that later. And for now, get back to where we were,” she cooed, reaching palms towards the back of Jenna’s knees and pull her in. “Or better…” 

With the ghostly swiftness of a strong wind whistling through a window’s cracks Faith pulled down Jenna’s underwear and slid tongue between her lips, swiping back and forth with just enough pressure to be more satisfying than maddening from the lack of focus. And just as it began to creep into the territory of the former, Faith mercifully ended the torment — a final upward glide to settle tongue pressed against her clit and flex. 

Jenna slapped a hand against the concrete wall to steady herself as Faith’s tongue firmed and massaged with an ever increasing force that drew her wound her ever tighter, closing in on release. She careened even faster towards the edge as Faith’s lips pursed, giving a light suck that cause pleasure to spike, and another — drawing so close — and another, and — 

Pop.

Not exactly the release Jenna had in mind, as Faith pulled back with a giggle and shuffled to her feet, propping arms atop Jenna’s shoulders. 

“But we should finish what we started first, shouldn’t we?” Faith whispered with a devastating drip of venom laced honey, leaning back against the wall and guiding Jenna’s hand back in place between her legs. 

She really should have seen that coming, shouldn’t she? 

“I do believe teasing is half the fun for you,” Jenna sighed, weary but free of malice as she obligingly began to pump her fingers to build back to the rhythm she’d previously set. 

“But only half of it,” Faith replied, raking fingers along Jenna’s scalp to the elastic band tying her hair back and through to pull it loose and allow curls to spring free. 

One hand stayed buried in Jenna’s hair as the other roamed her body, ghosting every stray place it could. A brush of fingertips along her collarbone, a fist bunching the sleeve of her lab coat, a teasing caress of her inner thigh. 

All that contact disappeared as Faith tossed her head back with a sharp gasp, free hand instead reaching back to the wall to push her forward and into Jenna. Her muscles tensed and writhed in the uneven jerks of a body given over to sheer reflex as it chased release, hand against the wall clenching and unclenching as it crept up and up and up, fingers curling around the handle they finally reached and closing in to grab for purchase, pulling down to — oh no — 

A click, and a cascade of water fell from the plastic fan of the showerhead jutting from the wall, causing Faith to turn her head to the side and cough as it poured into her open mouth. 

Jenna gave her lover a few slaps on the back to clear her airway as she pulled her to the side and out of the stream’s way. 

“Maybe we should go dry off,” she suggested, stroking Faith’s back as she continued coughing in her arms. “There’s some towels in the supply closet, and —” 

“No,” Faith interrupted sharply, brow pinching inward and green eyes squinting into a glare. “No,” she repeated softer, dipped back inside and sugar spun and spat out again with a sticky, glaring bright fluff. “This is spontaneous and romantic,” she said, voice ringing high and clear like a bell, but one packed too tight in cushioning to reverberate as she enunciated every word with a pointed care. Oh, she did so love when Faith took that tone with her. “And we are going to enjoy it.”

Before Jenna could mumble an appeasing ‘of course,’ Faith jerked her wrist a bit too roughly to return her hand its place, the force of her leg hooking around her waist to pull her forward causing Jenna to stumble forward. 

She kept her balance and caught herself with an elbow against the wall easily enough (another benefit of non-skid shoes to tout to Faith in the afterglow), rather appreciating the support as her tired arm got back to work. 

And getting soaked hadn’t made Faith any less, well, soaked — still all depths of slick past dripping blonde curls. 

It was a quick build back to where they’d left off, no time at all before Faith’s breaths were uneven with labored heaves of her chest, pink flush creeping up her neck. 

And those sounds she made — ever higher in pitch and volume, chiming like a bell indeed, one struck harder and more rapidly with each passing second until it was a continuous, blaring trill. 

Wait — 

Jenna pulled back from her place nuzzling against Faith’s pulse, ear back from the lips spilling sweet cries to hear the shrill, drawn out siren piercing through the air — just before a fresh drizzle of water fell down from above, this time from the sprinklers fixed to the ceiling. 

Jenna belatedly noticed the heat that radiated against her back rather than the front she had pressed against warm body, turning to look behind her. 

She was greeted with the sight of hot blue flames reaching up from the matte black surface of the table, trailing gaze further down its length to see the tip over bottle of ethanol laying just where they’d begun their endeavor, having finally crept over to the still lit bunsen burner to fuel and spread its flame. 

“I think that’s an official ‘experiment failed’ for today, darling,” Jenna said with a flick of her eyes up towards the flashing light of the blaring fire alarm, removing her hand from between Faith’s legs. 

She once again silenced the beginnings of a complaining huff she saw preparing to pass through pouting pink lips with a kiss, weaving her fingers through the spun gold tresses of still soaking hair to tilt her head back. She reached to grip the back of her thigh and raise her leg to prop at her waist one last time as she deepened the kiss, subtly slipping away as she angled her lover back. 

“Let’s grab a fire extinguisher and take care of this,” Jenna offered as she pulled away, giving Faith’s leg a parting squeeze. “Then we can take this somewhere a little less… high risk.” 

Faith smiled, reaching to the side and pulling down the fire extinguisher to pass to Jenna as she answered in sing-song, “Just don’t be long.” 

“I’ll be as efficient as I can,” she answered, taking the item from Faith. “Although…” She smiled, taking a step back before nodding at the floor in gesture towards Faith’s gloved feet. “This probably wouldn’t have happened, if you’d just worn proper footwear.” 

Jenna turned and pulled the pin of the fire extinguisher to release a pressurized whoosh that drowned out any responding protest Faith had to offer.

High risk, high reward, Jenna thought to herself as she swept the snow white spray along the length of the ignited lab table, smile widening as she considered. At least if it worked. 

Getting Faith to wear shoes in the lab would be better than sex. 

[machudson]

math & music are . lovers intertwined. If u ask me

[bogkeep]

ACTUALLY would u guys like to send me some poetry prompts, like topics or themes or words... please send them as asks (not replies) so that i can go through them at my own leisure! and only if u want of course.

[psychologicalwarclaire]

tw: implied death

also spoilers for 'Spider's Web With Strings Attached'

Blame @drsmer for putting this idea in my head.

LINK TO THE FANFIC IN QUESTION.

[lowkey-loki245]

WAIT, IDEA FOR SHIP ANGST!

So I ship Loop x Siffrin x Isa (polycule, let's go!), but Loop and Siffrin would definitely have a super deep connection (you know, since Loop is an alternate version of Sif).

So what if Isa was a little jealous of this. He use to be the closest person to Sif, but know that's Loop. And he feels bad about being jealous cause he should be happy that someone understands Siffrin so well.

So when Sif and Loop eventually find this out, they have to reassure him that it's okay to feel that way they also start trying to make him feel more in the loop (heh, get it?)

Just a cute, slight angst ship fic idea.

[sciderman]

Sci, I’m sorry, I haven’t read the blog from the beginning because I’m exclusively on the mobile app. Why did Peter and Gwen break up?

you… don’t have a computer? i mean - it’s a feat but - but - I’d recommend reading the blog from the beginning, at some point - I mean power to you for being here regardless! but I’d be so confused. everything here must be so confusing.

but I mean - gwen kind of… died.

peter was about to propose, the night she died.

prior to that, though, they were on break for a while after captain stacy’s death

[x]