#yall better be ready

[anteroom-of-death]

Yayo

Synopsis: Gideon Shepherd wastes a life or two over a girl.

A/N: thanks to @lex144 for inspiring me to not give up. Will be a 2 parter/prequel. Dark fic time. Sorry for no publishing of all .... burn out. Listen to the unreleased version of Lana del Rey while reading.

How many times must he repeat the same life, the same lie, over and over again? How many times could he go through the exact same suffering and the exact same thwarting of evils in this world?

Gideon, in his sixties, again, having a cup of tea in an inconspicuous tea shop, mused. He’d just stopped a plane crash he had stopped dozens, if not hundreds of times. He was losing count. Losing control.

He knew it was only a matter of time before he was locked back up, dressed in red with those detectives again. Bargaining with the girl, Lucy. Trying to make her understand her son and him. Each time it seemed a tad more futile.

He tied the bag’s string around his finger like he’d done with that red one in that room. Repetitive and simple as always. Perhaps even a nervous tic.

He’d always die, just before total lucidity. It was annoying. And it just added more into his already over-crammed skull. He felt bursting at the seams. Almost like he had multiple brains.

Preposterous!

He admitted that in this particular cycle he’d been a little more neglectful of his needs. More rash. Less calculated…It was getting worse each time. More world-saving. Less keeping himself intact to save it.

He had to change all of this. Maybe take a breather. He’d still stick to his schedule from thousand lives past. This time, it would be difficult, just infinitesimal.

He even had been to this little tea shop every single time. Exactly the same day, the same time. He had observed people casually. Not much to do with anything…

Everyone was safe by his calculations.

The slouched-over nervous girl was going to accidentally water board herself with her drink in a few seconds.

On cue, her little iced coffee spilled. She sighed, seemingly looked up, as if beckoning a favor from God. She grabbed a napkin and went to wipe herself and the ground up.

In an echo of so many times previously, “Nothing comes easy, does it?” She muttered and slouched into her knees. She started to scrub a particular big stain in the making on her floral skirt with her spit.

It was probably incoherent to anyone who didn’t hear it or know to hear it time and time again.

She eventually pulled herself off the ground, her hip cracked. The slit in the side rode up, accidentally flashing the grey panties she wore…

Suddenly he felt like focusing in on her.

Maybe next cycle he’d offer to help her.

For now he got up and offered her his napkin. A small smile spread on his face.

“I have a spare coat in my boot…you can cover it up, keep it.” He offered another shiny object.

He didn’t know what exactly started coming over him. It was carnal, primal. Effervescent even. She obviously suffered from some self-confidence issues. Despite her bold outfit choices. Her large earrings clanked against her necklaces. Skittish. Unsure.

It made him incredibly hard.

He hadn’t allowed himself any pleasure, just the continuous pursuit of justice. In his own way. The only way that was dramaturgically correct he felt. He had to be the one to make it happen. The cops were as much as complicit as sometimes perpetrators.

“Go to the toilets and freshen up, yeah?” He instructed her plainly. The pit of the toll of all his dark deeds starting fray him like the trim of her denim jacket that seemed slightly too small.

He forced himself out to the car and popped the boot. He grabbed the aforementioned coat.

He walked back into the shop just she exited the loo.

She sniffled and saw the coat. It was black, utilitarian. Nothing special.

“Thanks.” The smile was weak, she still was obviously reeling from her previous remark of nothing coming easy. However, it was genuine. She was thankful and seemed placated by the action.

“I’ll…get another coffee.” She remarked as she tied the thing around her waist.

He couldn’t help but notice it hung sensually around her hips. Accented the torso and her tits in a weird way. How would it be to bite them? Mar them with his teeth?

“Why don’t you join me?” He offered.

“I can’t.” She frowned, a line developing in her still somewhat-young forehead that didn’t go away when her face relaxed moments earlier. It was fully etched in.

How lovely was it that such a nervous wreck had somehow made it this far in life? To see such a line. Pity it was there in the first place.

Such a contradiction…

She got her new coffee.

He still felt incredibly urged to take her and hide her away. Stop her from herself and her own nervous nature.

The proverbial butterfly was stepped on, who knew what was in store now…

Next cycle, he remarked to himself as he got into his car and drove off. He had to complete this. Make the Lucy woman understand. Die, come back. Same shot, different day…

His cock still remained at attention. The depraved thoughts still rung in his thoughts.

×××××

Here he was, back at the tea shop. She was walking in. Here was his chance!

He’d fantasized about this chance for decades now. Ever since the first rush of teenage hormones rushed into his body. Again.

She walked in, her tote bag swinging.

Only one chance. He could blow it, hypothetically. But this opportunity was literally once in a lifetime. No matter how many he’d been allowed. (Or cursed with depending on current emotions and outlook…)

He knew the pitfalls of approaching a woman and making oneself known. It came off predatory. Not that he wasn’t predating her, in more than one sense of rationale, or definition. Was there any good, wholesome way to approach her and her grey panties? He’d killed enough rapists to merit knowing what they liked.

And yet, here he was entering his era of perversion.

He firmly believed he had to liberate her from herself. Somehow.

Never one for true romance, even in the first time he seemingly entered the cycle, he lingered unsure.

He got up and made a show of asking for extra napkins.

One word, one small line would disrupt this. She’d not spill her drink, and he’d garner an actual chance with her.

“Those are some lovely necklaces.” He tried for a bit off a soft entrance.

She touched the tangled mass of gold on her neck, “Oh! Thanks!” Her left hand went to fiddle with some of the pendants on a few of them. The free thumb rested on one of those comically-large hoops.

She placed her order and went down to fight for her life to find her pocketbook.

“No worries,” Gideon assured, “I’ve got it.” The fiver, easily produced from his jacket pocket.

“Oh?” She flashed a befuddled, nervous half-grin at him. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

She shook her head. “Thanks so much!”

He felt moved to go back to his seat. He didn’t know exactly what to do to go from here.

Something told him to just toss her in the boot and drive off. Or perhaps, to lure in promising safe travels to wherever she was headed.

The darkness rubbed off so easily.

The toll of a billion lifetimes.

He remembered some parable of a little bird and a rock. Something about a boy saying something about it being ‘One hell of a bird…’

He sucked on the options. They all weighed heavy on his heart and his conscience.

He ultimately chose the less devious of them all.

Just asking.

He saw her go to pick up her drink. Would she spill it? He half-wished to see. See of the actions interrupted the truth of time. Such a small gesture maybe would provide her a sense of calm? Could it? Would it?

He started to rise yet again from his seat, and she spilled it anyways.

A flash of grey panties, a mutter again about nothing being easy for her, her spine twisting into a serpentine knot. Her lovely skirt and top stained.

He offered her a clutch of napkins. Then repeated last life’s offers.

“Are you my guardian angel? Or something?” She asked. “First paying for my latte, now this?”

Fate must have been sick to give her him if she thought he was an angel. Even in a semi-facetious manner. Sure, he was on the side of angels, in a sense. However he was far from celestial. Mortal, frequently.

He went out, produce the jacket. Came back. She tied it.

He offered to pay for her replacement- “On caveat you join me, an old man for a bit of a chat on a slow day.” He went for the genteel route.

She involuntarily shook herself, her eyes blinking rapidly.

She looked at her phone’s clock.

“Sure. Why not? Only five minutes, yeah?”

She sat at his table and they chatted. Her name was (y/n), she was (insert your age, reader) and she was between jobs. The drink went much easier down now that she was sat. Gravity and natural klutziness weren’t fighting her here.

The way she placed her elbows on the table further accentuated her heaving chest. Despite her current state, she seemed to breathe a little harder than Gideon suspected someone should.

Maybe her baseline anxiety messed around with her rhythms.

Gideon gave her the most basic and innocent of responses. Just enough information to tantalize. Keep it light, keep it friendly, he chided himself over and over again…

She glanced over at her phone and saw the time…she excused herself and left. Thanking him for everything.

She even brushed both of his cheeks with a small, friendly, definitely foreign kiss on each.

The door bashed her on her way out and she tripped on her way over the bus stop across the street. She put in her headphones and leaned against the pole marking it.

He felt them burn in response. His cock stayed as hard as rosewood.

He regretted not getting her number.

Or he could follow her discreetly. Put in what he learned from men worse than him by a thousand-fold into practice. Keep her somewhere safe, where she couldn’t be harmed by anyone, let alone herself.

Yes, that would be fine. He would just be looking after her best interests? Correct?

Correct.

He waited a moment and trailed his way to his car.

The bus pulled up, she went in. He turned his car on. A simple game of cat and mouse. If the cat were ever so interested in the mouse’s uninterrupted survival…

Or perhaps, did he not want her to meet a darker end at anyone else’s hand but his? His thoughts kept delving deeper. Were these dark, frankly barbarous images his fantasies regarding this (Y/N)? Or just fears?

He did notice from their brief conversation that she did have some scar tissue around her wrists. So even if he did very into these mental images, it would probably be for her betterment. They were obviously self-inflicted.

He felt himself grow more and more irrational. There was something burning in his chest. An itch that maybe he’d scratch just this life. Then the next, go about, offer her the basic kindness of the jacket and go.

If he was doomed to repeat every sinful day of every sinful life, what was one slip up? He’d done so well before.

He was trying so hard.

Yes, why not?

[schumigrace]

god I miss seb so much but I just cannot allow myself to have a breakdown about him right now I've got too many other things going on. I cannot wait until I have the mental capacity to lose my shit again

[pearls-n-opulence]

They better bring it for this met gala tomorrow

[dropsofs4turn]

me bc i get to see mj this week

[anony-geist]

Dracula doesn't even get killed by a stake, he gets mobbed by an American and a realtor with knives.

It’s been tried, it only works with a Silverado.

[spacegoblinratspecies]

Just some doodles I did awhile ago

[darththrog]

I've kept my mouth shut even to myself for so long in order not to jinx anything but BRO AM I GONNA START YAPPING JUST NOW

[real-hottopic]

Lore posts will be beginning soon. All lore posts will be tagged with #lore and/or #hottopiclore

[cockscombplant]

one small step toward my ultimate plan. WORLD DOMINATION.

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

"shipping saiki is aphobic because he's aroace!"

stares at you with my demiromantic asexual in a committed relationship eyes then looks at the camera like im in the office

[last-of-cheese]

As a reader I used to be like I should tailor my feed/create a side blog to reblog fics I like so I don't spam those who follow me with all these fics.

Fuck that.

Embrace the "cringe." Reblog the goddamn fic.

If it's good writing, spread the joy.

Educational Saturday 😉❤️

I come to you today with a very important and very loving blurb about requests, courtesy, and how this site works.

This was a recent interaction I got, and I know others will be able to elaborate on it much better, so I'll keep it simple:

The single most important way to support writers is to REBLOG.

This site operates on REBLOGS.

Reading or requesting without doing anything to share the writer's work is very one-sided and not how we do things here.

SO, my beloved readers...

If you enjoy it, reblog it.

Don't bother with likes.

Comments can be put in the reblog.

.

sincerely, one of many authors putting their hearts and souls into creating awesome stuff for you to enjoy (and appreciate). ;)

[apnourry]

are you healthy or does the infectious disease office phlebotomist know you by name and call you "my friend!!!"

[medievalsmithy]

Calling the writer who has made your entire career possible on YouTube a "drama queen" after he makes a blog post talking about his closest friends passing and generally how tough circumstances have been for him , and beforehand calling him "unprofessional" after he does what is well within the right of every artist by calling out a huge Multi Billion dollar company with self-entitled writers capitalising off of HIS work and messing up HIS story is bonkers and leaves me with only one conclusion : some of you do not deserve any of George's amazing work and should not profitize off of it . He owes you NOTHING .I hope George feels better soon and is meaner to hbo and its shills next time (:

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Hey guysss, this art is the first installment of a series of profiles I wanna make for each of my self inserts! I figured I would start with R. Marie, seeing as they're probably the s/i I've put the most thought and development into! A bit of backstory info (as well as the tag list) will be under the cut, and once more profiles are created, they'll also be linked with this one! Any reblogs and comments are all seen and appreciated!! 💜🥺💛

Other Profiles: Nurse (Team Fortress 2)

As a child, young Ruby Marie was lacking in the characteristics that begin most villains' tragic backstories; she came from a loving, middle-class family in a good neighborhood and made friends easily. Not only that, but she excelled in class and always had a good rapport with her teachers and fellow students. If things had continued the way they did, she may have been on her way to growing up to benefit society with her inventions, maybe even winning a Nobel Prize or two.

But all of that changed in the third grade, when the science fair project Ruby Marie had worked for three weeks on came in second place to a first-grader's potato battery. A potato battery, the most basic of science projects!! From that traumatic, devastating day forward, the young scorned genius swore that the world would never made the mistake of believing there was anyone more intelligent than her.

She immediately threw herself into the studies of evil, and the more she learned of its ways, the more she convinced herself that she was made for it. After years of self-taught villainy and perfection of deadly robots, the young kind Ruby Marie was long dead, and the cold-hearted, ruthless R. Marie was born.

R. Marie quickly figured that making their genius known across the world could easily take decades of their life - which were decades that they would rather spend enjoying their reign over humanity - so they devised a plan to get to the top in record time; they would simply ride the coattails of someone who had already been working for decades to take over the world, and as soon as that poor sod succeeded, they would overthrow the fool and take their rightful place as ruler of the world. And R. Marie had just the sod in mind...

@ava-ships @bee-ships @beetleboyfriend @canongf @clawfull @cloudyvoid @derelictdumbass @discountwives @dissonantyote @edencantstopfallininlove @final-catboy @gible-love-nibles @halsdaisy @hoppinkiss @hotrodharts @hyperionshipping @iyamifucker @lex-n-weegie @little-miss-selfships @little-shiny-sharpies @loogi-selfships @lovebugexe @mandrakebrew @mintpecks @mrs-kelly @nameless-self-ships @nerdstreak @paper-carnation @patches-and-her-selfships @p-i-t-s @reds-self-ships @rexscanonwife @ship-trek @spacestationstorybook @squips-ship @scroldie @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @toogayforthistoday @winterworlds

[jadewritesficshere]

It's time

Alpha!Steve Harrington x Omega!Reader

Steve goes into his rut.

Warnings: omegaverse dynamics, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, knotting

18+ Only

Steve blearily walked into the kitchen. It was 1 in the morning and something had woken him. He couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe it was Eddie coming home late? Or you, finally getting off a shift (if they would stop switching your hours all over the place, Steve would be happy so you wouldn't be so exhausted). Maybe it was simply the thunder outside.

Either way, Steve awoke with a mouth dryer then the Sahara. He needed water. He felt extremely hot too. As Steve grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the sink, he stared at the rain pelting the house. Taking a quick dip outside sounded nice. Steve chugged the water, quickly draining the cup. He left the sink on and dove forward, drinking directly from the tap.

A low growl rumbled through him as he drank. The water was cool on his tongue, quenching his thirst, but he felt hot. Steve dunked his head under the running water. The cold water running over the back of his head and down into the sink. He panted into the sink, nails digging into the edge.

The realization of what was happening struck him at the same time your scent hit his nose. Your scent smelled so sweet. It beckoned him. It called unto him to go to you. To make you his. To have you cry out his name in pleasure. To writhe and pant beneath him. To knot you.

The thought jolted him. Steve wanted to knot you. Steve knew what was happening. His rut had come, sooner than anticipated. Steve wasn't supposed to go into his rut yet. They had always been on time, but he had never lived with an omega before. That was the only reasoning that would make sense in his mind. Last rut, directly after you presented, Steve had holed up at his parents house (not that they would ever know since they were never there). Steve didn't want to pressure you and thought being around you would have been the most bittersweet torture.

But now you were dating. Now you were his omega. And he needed you. Now.

Steve's head snapped up, water rolling off his hair and down his neck. Beads of water were rolling down his bare shoulders. He never slept with a shirt on, only a pair of boxers. But they seemed too constricting now that he had his mind set on you. He hastily shoved them off, his erection springing up.

Steve's hand fumbled with the spout, turning the handle to shut the water off too hard and hearing a crack. The water kept trickling out, now leaking. It had Steve pause, he didn't want to use too much force and hurt you. You were soft. Pliable. You were sweet. You were his. And he was going to make sure you knew it.

Steve stumbled down the hall like he was drunk. Drunk on your scent. It beckoned him, calling like a siren to a sailor. He made it to your door and almost keeled over. It was too much and yet not enough at the same time.

Steve grabbed the door knob and yanked the door open. In his haste, the handle broke off in his hand. He inhaled deeply and exhaled a breath slowly. The door slowly creaked open as he stood there, staring at the handle in his hand.

Being in a rut, Steve forgot how strong he was. His thoughts only of you. Of pumping you full of his seed. He needed to get a hold of himself. He needed to be careful, or else he could hurt you. He didn't want to hurt you-

"Steve?" You called sleepily, rubbing your eyes and sitting up partly in bed.

He wanted to knot you. Wanted to have pups with you.

Steve felt like he was hyperventilating, taking breaths in and out so quickly. In one quick motion, he had slammed the door behind him and was on your bed. The door handle landing with a metallic clang on the hardwood floor.

You blink the sleep from your eyes as Steve slowly crawls up the bed towards you. A low growl escapes Steve, fangs peeking out between his parted lips. You can feel yourself become wet with arousal from anticipation. Steve's scent rolling of him, almost intoxicating.

You lay back on your forearms, watching Steve. Steve reaches your thighs, prying them apart. He leans in, nose brushing against your clothed cunt, and deeply inhales. Steve groans and inhales again, eyes locking with yours.

You can feel your slick soaking your underwear. You fidget slightly causing Steve to throw an arm across your hips to hold you down. "Smell so fucking good," Steve growls out. He nudges your clit with his nose causing you to jump. His tongue licks the slick seeping through your soaked underwear.

Steve moans at the taste. His fingers grip your thighs tighter. Steve opens his eyes to look up at you. Your eyes meet his, his eyes so blown they look almost black.

Your mouth is simultaneously dry and salivating at the sight of him. You can feel another gush of slick occur as your stomach alights with that familiar warm fuzzy horny feeling. You want him.

But he needs you.

"Please?" He asks, fingers flexing and pulling you closer. Even filled with the hormones from his rut, Steve thought of you first. You thread a hand through his hair,"I got you Alpha." Steve inhales shakily and nods.

On a normal day, he would take his time. Make sure you've orgasmed before him. Spend time being close and nosing at your mating gland, holding hands, whispering promises. Foreheads touching as he thrusts into you, fingers interlocked. When he takes you from behind, he envelopes you with his arms and holds you close. Soft and sweet.

But Steve can't. Not today. There is no soft and sweet in his mind. Steve can't even formulate words at this moment, just a low growl as he grabs your underwear. The sound of fabric ripping fills your ears as he tears the underwear from you.

Steve groans at the sight. You're drenched in slick. You look perfect. So ready for him.

Steve crawls up over you, face hovering over his. "I- fuck. I need-" Steve stumbles over his words as a whiff of your scent hits him. A scent that you've released to calm him. But he can also smell an undercurrent of your arousal.

"I got you Steve. I'm ready for you. Want you." You cup the side of his face with your hand and smile at him. Steve licks his lips before kissing you. He moans into your mouth as you return the same fervor. Steve can feel your tongue brush against his fangs before wrestling with his own tongue.

Steve lines himself up, cock catching on your hole. He teases your entrance slightly, feeling slick gush around him. Warm, wet, and fucking made for him. Steve growls as he thrusts in quickly, filling you to the brim in one motion.

You gasp slightly before a moan escapes. Steve sets a brutal pace. Fast and hard. The bed rocks with each thrust, headboard clanging against the wall. He shifts slightly, grabbing your legs and throwing them up over his shoulders.

At this angle, Steve hits that spot inside of you which every thrust. The thatch of hair and his pelvis hits your clit just right. A gasp escapes you with each thrust, sometimes being able to be formed into a moan.

"You're so- fuuucck. You. Omega!" Steve bites at your chin, close to your mating gland but not quite," So good. Gonna take care of you. Gonna fill you with my pups." You nod," Want it Stevie, please." "You're gonna get it babe. Gonna fuck gonna give you my knot. Make sure it sticks."

You tumble over the edge into pleasure. Your orgasm runs through you, leaving you shaking and spasming against Steve. You've never felt this good before. The pleasure was so immense it felt like you were floating.

Steve could feel your walls clenching around him. His abs tensed and he knew he wouldn't last. He thrust deep inside of you and came with a loud groan. Steve could feel his knot pop. You could feel his come painting your insides, the pressure of his knot holding you in place.

Steve collapses onto you. Steve pants heavily as he looked into your eyes. Careful of his knot, he wraps his arms around you and rolls onto his back, pulling you onto him. "You ok?" He manages to ask. You nod in response, laying your head against his chest. Steve can feel some of the hormones leave, able to think clearer.

"Not too much? We never...talked...about pups." Steve runs a hand up and down your back. You hum as you think before quietly saying,"Didn't think it would be this soon but...I want your pups Steve."

Steve's eyes shine slightly with unshed tears. He wasn't expecting to get emotional about it. You were his Omega. He would bite your mating gland today if he could- but he knew he should wait until after his rut. Steve didn't want you to think he only did it because of the hormones. Didn't want you to think it was "in the moment", even if he wanted to spend every moment with you.

He wanted to be your Alpha. Permanently. To take care of you. Wanted you to be his Omega forever. He can imagine a life with you. Growing old together and falling more in love. He can imagine you pregnant. Your swollen stomach, breasts full of milk. The way you would handle it with such grace. The perfect omega, not because you were an omega, but because you loved so hard and were amazing. Because you were you.

Steve can feel the heat start to come back as his knot starts to deflate. He wants to knot you again. You push off him slightly, sitting up and staring down at him. "Round two?" You grin down at him, running a hand through his chest hair. Steve groans and thrusts his hips up slightly," you're fucking perfect."

You begin to rock into him, slowly working your way up to lifting more fully off him and back down. Steve's hand lands on your hips, helping guide you up and down. He could stay like this forever with you. Gazing up at you with adoration, Steve hopes you want to stay like this with him forever too. His eyes land on your mating gland. He'd ask soon. Make it official. But right now, he was going to fill you up and knot you again.

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Another DPXDC post for the first time

Yall remember winged danny? Yea me too the good ol days lads

But imagine Danny in Gothem cause hes either on the run from his family or the GIW you decide boys on the run and probably alone.

He gets picked up by the Waynes at some point and eventually he goes to have the “im not normal talk” but they all know. He is a meta or something. They have been waiting for him to be ready to tell them, if ever. They would accept him no matter what.

Except the time comes and he just “I have wings” and like everyone is shocked™️ Danny gets the idea hes about to be rejected and starts to fold in on himself and someone better snap out of it before the kid cries. Alfred is the one to speak first probably.

Just everyone so shocked but I mean it’s more a shock that they missed this instead of that Danny has wings. After that they fully accept him and apologise. Someone says the “we thought you were about to tell us about your powers!” Danny just has his own little moment before shouting “YOU GUYS KNOW I HAVE GHOST POWERS!?!?!!!?”

Anyway they move on and Danny hardly brings the wings up again but he does get seen around with them every once in a while. But eventually they find out hes not taking care of them as he should. It’s probably Duke who sees Danny with his messy wings and offers to help him.

Let Danny get help with self care ok. The Bats would all go nuts learning how to take care of Danny if he ever asks.

Now imagine the reverse of this and they all know he has wings but not that hes the High Ghost King Phantom.