demothers-empty-blog

[demothers-empty-blog]

hello mother

have some creatures

oh my god, it’s happening. professor mach has presented me with three starters—

i love jeff, i think he’s my favourite what a guy. look at him, so jittery 😩 dw we can stress over tiny things together

puddle is a st bernard string worm mix who isn’t aware of his own size, will try to sit on your lap. 10/10, look at those big paws 🐾 🐛

and then there’s bobert. he’s about to burst into tears, isn’t he? that or he’s just heard the most disgusting piece of info ever and is judging hard. we all need a bobert in our lives

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oh no yeah definitely saving these for later

mwwwah gimme the list to all ur skin products ✨🙏

aah!! skin care time teehee, mwah! love talking about products<3 on top of these, I also just try to drink a decent amount of water consistently. also also, washing your pillow cover regularly helps reduce acne so that’s my personal tip

face masks🥒

I’m Honey Sheet Mask (Ulta link) - my go-to full face mask. I usually buy them at Target, but Ulta also carries them. they’re super refreshing. I always think it leaves you with a nice glow afterwards from being moisturized heavily. every time I’ve bought one the mask itself was thoroughly soaked with the goop and it absorbed into my skin really well

Strawberry Matcha Latte Eye Patches (Target link) - bought them on a whim, love them. they’re just meant for your under eyes, you can go about your day and forget they’re there. helped reduce my eye bags, and it’s refreshing if you pop them in the fridge beforehand

face products🌸

Crème Shop x Pusheen Cleansing Wipes (Pusheen link) - super addicting sweet strawberry scent, but it’s really light. I found them to be pretty juicy with the cleanser and they definitely got all the schmutz off my face haha

The Water Cream (Tatcha link) - my favorite product on this post! Tatcha has a lot of really good products, but their water cream is my top tier pick. it helps with moisturizing and generally makes your skin look clearer. also, I found that it helps reduce the eczema on my hands with a little of it. usually, when I’m done applying it to my face, I’ll just wipe the excess on my hands if I have eczema

Clear Days Ahead Acne Treatment Cleanser (Philosophy link) - you don’t need to use a lot of it, just until it gets a little bubbly and then you rinse it off. I found it to be gentle on my acne, just apply it gently. it has a light citrusy scent that I like too

body products🌺

Strawberry Pound Cake Lotion (Bath & Body Works link) - to be honest, I basically bought their whole strawberry pound cake collection so I’m biased… but I really like this lotion! the scent doesn’t linger too long and it makes my skin feel really soft afterwards

Pomegranate & Shea Butter Sugar Scrub (Dove link) - second favorite product on this post! love my pomegranate sugar scrub, it smells good and it makes me so smooth haha. I use it, like, twice a week and it is a killer combo with lotion afterwards

seasonal mention🍂✨

Apple Cider Shower Gel from Philosophy! it’s out of season right now and it’s killing me😩 I believe it’s an autumn-only exclusive. Philosophy offers other shower gels throughout the year, but I love their apple cider scent

[demothers-empty-blog]

better days are coming in August

better days are coming in August

better days are coming in August

better days are coming in August

better days are coming in August

better days are coming in August

better days are coming in August

[demothers-empty-blog]

Plant of the Day

Saturday 2 August 2025

A species from Northern India, Anemone rivularis 'Glacier' (riverside windflower), is a clump-forming perennial for cool places in partial shade. The leaves are deeply cut into three fine lobes and the small white petals are set off by steely-blue sepals and blue anthers.

Jill Raggett

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https://www.instagram.com/reel/DLRxCGno2d0/?igsh=MXN3NmNkOWthYWdsbA== MOTHER IS THIS NOT HIM HELP ME 😭😭

here

would you look at that, König owns a shirt shop 😭😭😭

[demothers-empty-blog]

the love i hold for german characters is very normal yes yes, in a very normal amount and totally not bordering on obsession

my guy friends would disown me in half a second if they knew what unspeakable things i would let Medic from team fortress do to me—in the name of science of course

in the same breath, i wish i could spend the entire afternoon in Krieger’s laboratory. just don’t touch anything, you don’t know where it’s been

platonically speaking, do not, repeat, do not ask me about Werner Ziegler (better call saul) i will violently sob—the man just wanted to see his wife!!! 😭 AUGH—he was so passionate about his work too, i can never get over how excited he was explaining about his lab project to a couple of strangers at a bar even if he was supposed to keep his damn mouth shut… stupid man

CoD zombies is severely underrated imo and i have no clue how Dempsey puts up with beloved Richtofen. at any rate he’s better than me, i’d be clinging to his leg he’s just so! ugh, and his voice lines? i could listen to that zesty man forever✨

anyhoo, do i believe König would be equally unhinged if given the chance? yes. am i going to write a fic about an unhinged König? also yes.

i was asked (i wasn’t) Demother, how did you come about liking the giant austrian/german from CoD?

and i say… that this little problem of mine started way before König was introduced…

have y’all ever heard of Algernop Krieger? No? you’re gonna. and i’m gonna be super annoying about it — jazz hands

[demothers-empty-blog]

Plant of the Day

Friday 1 August 2025

In the shaded, humus-rich soil of this woodland garden the Corydalis flexuosa (blue corydalis), probably a yellow leaved cultivar, was forming a stunning groundcover. This herbaceous perennial will dieback in summer (summer dormant) and is most striking in late spring and early summer.

Jill Raggett

[demothers-empty-blog]

i was asked (i wasn’t) Demother, how did you come about liking the giant austrian/german from CoD?

and i say… that this little problem of mine started way before König was introduced…

have y’all ever heard of Algernop Krieger? No? you’re gonna. and i’m gonna be super annoying about it — jazz hands

[demothers-empty-blog]

I like to think Medic and Krieger go through a good number of ‘Pigleys’ in the name of “science”

[demothers-empty-blog]

oh to be strapped to a table by a mad scientist who's a little bit horny about their work

[demothers-empty-blog]

john price retiring and living a quiet life with his husband. living in the woods does wonders for him- lets him focus on smaller, trivial tasks; gathering firewood, fixing the sink- it keeps his hands busy without worsening his never ending migranes, without giving him anyone new to worry about- it's just you and him up here. on days where he feels more fit to socialise, he heads down to the town with you- gets groceries, resting his hand on top of yours as you push the cart.

lazy (more accurately lazier, because time moves much slower with you) include price resting on the porch chair, reading a novel as you refill the bird feeder at the front of your home. going on long walks in the forest and taking photos of the wildlife you see- there's herd of deers that you're well aquainted with, and a barn owl that seems to perch on the same tree every day. he slumps against your shoulder while you're cooking dinner, arms around your waist as he hums a song his late mother had taught him.

night comes, and john falls asleep to the sound of cicadas chirping rather than the persistent buzz of helicopters and the nonstop chatter of a military base, your bodies slightly sticky from cuddling so close on a summer night. you grumble about how there's now a danp spot on your singlet, and how he snores like a bear for most of the night, and john can't help but smile.

you never point it out, how he's smiled far more since leaving the military. doesn't feel the need to talk half as loud as he used to, keeping his words rumbled, soothing. eventually, they'll lose the demanding edge that his job has taught him, and he'll stop holding you like you'll slip from his fingers. the cigars john used to smoke so frequently are now buried deep in his drawer, and his uniform has found it's resting place in the corner of your closet. he introduces himself no longer as captain johnathan price, but as john. just john.

after everything, he's become so soft. and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[demothers-empty-blog]

this august do whatever you want and stay up late

[demothers-empty-blog]

i love you all 5 people in tumblrs archer fandom

[demothers-empty-blog]

Dr. Krieger in all of the screen-capped glory. (I had to.)

[demothers-empty-blog]

Pam and (my boyfriend) Krieger ☺️👉👈

[demothers-empty-blog]

oh to be strapped to a table by a mad scientist who's a little bit horny about their work

[demothers-empty-blog]

another cliffhanger how could you do this to me…

Chiseled Heart | Part 13

When A Heart Claims

AO3 | Part 1

Music spilled from the speaker König had connected to his phone. He loved working late into the night; he hadn’t done so since you moved into the room down the hall.

Tonight, though, was a trivia night with your coworkers. You would call him if you needed help getting home. Your last message had told him you were hopping in a cab. That had been thirty minutes ago.

König didn’t know why you insisted on jumping into vehicles, but he knew questioning you would not reveal the answers. Although…it might make you laugh, and he loved listening to your joy. The chime of a text message interrupted the music—the one he had for you. Setting his tools down, König pushed his small wheeled stool across his studio. The preview showed a voice message. Smiling lightly to himself, he pressed play.

“So…I might have drunk a little more than I planned on. I gave the taxi driver my home address instead of yours.” The syrupy laughter you only had when you drank filled the space around him. Warmth filled him. “Plan is to hang out here until you can come get me. If you don’t see this, then I will sleep here and catch a ride back in the morn—”

A squeak followed by the harsh vowels in a masculine voice being cut off as the message ended had König running for the door. His knee creaked as he put speed through it he hadn’t used since the last time he escaped a building before it came down on him.

The lights watched over the half-finished bouquet he had been carving for you as the music struggled to play, as the connection to the phone got tenuous. Silence encompassed the space.

König couldn’t remember the last time that fear swallowed his better sense. It had to be the first few jobs as a new soldier—more than a lifetime ago. He didn’t remember the drive to your place. None of it.

This late into the night, parking was slim. Leaving his SUV across the street in the lot of a closed restaurant, he bit back the panic. Distant Doppler of passing cars and the buzz of wings surrounding the doom of the street light built the soundscape. It scratched at the back of his throat. He fought the urge to race. Running soldiers were camouflaged litter. He couldn’t afford to fuck this up. Not about you.

Slamming the driver’s door closed, König took a deep breath before donning his hood. The light brush of the fabric against his skin, like the demons of his past choices, choked him as it dragged him into the headspace he had successfully fled from with Rich’s help. He’d had the presence of mind to pull it from a drawer in his shop. The violence this called for roused more easily under its weight. When his eyes opened, the Colonel stood in place of König.

The tingling in his fingertips led him to your door.

Subtly twisting the doorknob, it turned. When he pushed though, the door didn’t budge. The Colonel took two steps back, shoulder blades brushing the wall opposite your front door. Tennis shoes, the ones he mowed the small patch of lawn he cared for in, were not the best for breaching doors. It didn’t matter. Trusting his left knee to hold the weight of his world crashing down, the Colonel planted his right heel above the deadbolt. The door shuttered in its frame before giving to his will. Bastard couldn’t lock the door completely.

Your front door opened into the living room, the kitchen, and a table visible from the first step into your home. To the right, a hallway dipped into darkness, heading for your bedroom and the bathroom. No one but you could be seen in the open areas. From where he stood, König could see your tear stains and strained smiles at the small table.

“He’s in the bathroom,” you croaked out, hands creaking against the restraints he could see more the effects of than the physical ties at this distance.

König took two massive steps through the door—toward you. The frog in your throat worsened into a broken scream. A flickering of motion to his right did not prepare him to fend off a bat to the ribs.

Bones creak.

They whisper of distress like trees fighting a storm.

That hit shifted him from a man choked up with the need to save you to the monster who towered over the battlefield, the Morrigan circling his head.

These muscles did not remember bloodshed. Years and years had passed, replacing their memories like those of the flowers in the meadow. His bones…his soul…they remembered. They stood like the trees that held the memory of his footsteps and cradled his weight like the earth that echoed back his footsteps. He moved, a concertmaster—violin to violence.

Elbow snapping back and down König pinned the bat to his bruising ribs. Snapping his head to the bastard that attempted to destroy his joy, he saw nothing but a broken shell. Sandy blond hair and eyes that held no color or spark snarled up at him. Wrenching his body toward the man who still held the bat, König’s mass and movement ripped it from the stalker’s hands. The squat metal dropped into his hand before being tossed away. He didn’t plan on killing the intruder. Yet.

König forgot one especially important thing from his time being wielding as a weapon: crazy is always strong.

The blond lunged forward, fingers scrambling for a neck to squeeze, all the while he began to spew sing-song sour notes of his unwell thoughts. The words didn’t make sense. Wrists pinning the claws aching for his blood, König threw the weight of his skull into the man’s face. The satisfying crunch of bone did not phase anyone but you.

The squeak turned wretch pulled König from the Colonel’s mindset.

He couldn’t prevent his eyes from finding you.

Your visage entered his sight.

His vision went white.

Stalker, unable to overcome König’s physical differences, had bitten him in the pectoral. Snarling, König reached up and over the man’s head. Fingers dangling before the soulless eyes, he curled them. Wrenching back on the already broken nose, the stalker released the zombie-strong clamp of his jaw. Instincts still warring with concern for you, König maneuvered the bloody scene into the darkness of the hall.

It didn’t take long to subdue the man. König hoped the stalker would suffocate on the blood now sliding down his throat from where he lay slumped against the carpet. It would save him the trouble of exercising more demons from his ledger. From his mind to the ears of angels.

“König?” Your voice breaches his parched lips, water to dehydration. The layers of cautious fear, fighting back of anxiety, and so much more could have taken him a week to unpack, all in the single warble of his name.

Rushing to your side is the only answer. He scoops up the discarded bat as he passes it to sink to his knees before you. Setting the offending sporting tool on the table, he focuses on setting you free. Murmuring to you in whatever words he can pluck from his fear-rattled mind, he works at the knots holding you to the chair. Fucking Boy Scout. Stalker could knot efficiently enough to pin you like a bug to a display, but couldn’t remember to lock the damn door fully?

One hand pops free with a gasp of pain. The flesh around your wrist is already showing the abrasive abuse of the rope. König shifts, hissing as his knee protests all of its own misuses. Your hand slips beneath his hood as he deftly works at the other hand. When your fingers etch their memory into his jaw, he cannot help but lean into it, momentarily forgetting.

“You saved me.”

The whisper is one shared between lovers—vulnerable and connective. König opens the eyes he didn’t know had closed. You are there, fingers on his face and tears on your lashes, looking at him like he matters, like nothing of the violence he showed you had changed your desire to see him. A small smile softens your expression. Your gaze doesn’t leave his as you tug lightly on your still-trapped hand. It pops free with a harsh sound of dry skin fighting rough rope.

König whines as the hand beneath his hood leaves his skin. Your smile stretches. Cooing at him, you gently lift it from his face.

“There you are.”

Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his forehead. The weight of his past slides off his shoulders and onto the table, where you leave all the evils he’s never been proud to claim. Now he knows he lost the fight, and this must be hell. In no world he can conceive of would you return his affections. Especially not after seeing him as the monster he was.

“I saw you take a hit to the ribs.” You press the words into him before pulling back and sparking heat low in his gut by the look you give him. “Sit here.”

Without waiting for his acquiescence, you stand. Using his shoulder as a balance point, König watches over his shoulder as you touch everything you pass. Reaching the fridge, you pull out a gel ice pack. He chooses then to attempt to stand. König’s huff of pain is drowned out by the crack of his knee. It sounded more like a branch as thick as your wrist snapping off a tree than a man attempting to straighten out his limbs. Your head snaps left, the side eye you give him nearly surpassing that of Horangi’s judgmental stares. Instead of commenting, you grab another frozen item.

Forcing back a laugh, he turns on his good leg and collapses onto your recent prison. One ice pack wrapped in a towel is pressed to his knee in short order.

“Hold that,” you demand as you set the other on the table. It makes an interesting tale as his eyes drift from bat to hood, then to the ice pack wrapped so neatly as to avoid further harm.

König does as commanded. Your fingers curl around the bottom edge of his shirt, lifting. He stiffens. It is your turn to murmur soothing nothings at him. The molting colors of a forming bruise cause you to suck in a breath between your teeth. Switching hands holding his shirt, your gentle fingers begin to explore. König holds stiller than stone. Not even the threat of death would chance him losing your hands on his flesh.

“You took a bat in the ribs…for me.”

He can’t parse out what emotions are swirling under your words. Senses honed for action pull his eyes away from you as his former men push the door open from where it hangs askew. Krueger leads, his shorter stature showing Nikto and Horangi behind him.

You, while not tuned into death’s cadence, are attentive to König. Before Krueger can take two steps into the space, you are grabbing the bat. Whirling to face what must seem your nightmares in triplicate, König only sees your fear in the tightening of your shoulder blades.

Tossing the ice pack from his knee, König settled a hand on each of your elbows. The slightest pressure of his fingertips encouraged you back until you perched on his good leg.

“Mien herz, they are here to help. I called them.”

Krueger looked you up and down. Lascivious bastard.

“The colonel found a heart? Knew you were Frankenstein’s monster after all. If you can’t find a pulse, I would be happy to take this one off your hands. Not often you find someone willing to take a bat to the soldiers God prays don’t breach his pearly gates.” The words in German taunted him.

König stared the man down over your shoulder.

“Kraumpus will regret not taking you if you try.”

The man laughs, wiping his eye as if to swipe at tears. All lies.

Horangi, annoyed with the side chat, pushed Krueger forward.

“We are here for a body, not for you to become another. Move.”

The two moved into the hall. Nikto followed. A pace behind, he stopped long enough to nod once to you and König. Returning the gesture, König ran his fingers down your arms. The goosebumps that rose from his soothing gesture worried him. Were you cold?

No conversation drifted from the dark hallway, nor from either of you. The seconds sloughed away.

Dragging his fingertips up past your elbows König categorized the twitches in your body. The weight of you on his thigh settled in his chest. He wanted more. More always of this, you within reach and breathing his air.

A breath before his fingers could begin a coup, Nikto appeared—body slung across his shoulder. He nodded once more before disappearing into the light spilling in from the building hall. Horangi maneuvered behind Krueger, the force of his presence pushing the first man. Turning the corner, the bastard winked and flashed a scrap of fabric.

König didn’t clock what the item was. You did, though.

Jumping to your feet with a shriek, bat still in hand, you get a couple steps in before Horangi grabs Krueger by the back of the neck and shoves him for the door.

“It’s not worth the fight. He bites. König, we’ll see you later?” Horangi lifted a brow.

König nodded. He would handle the nearly departed himself.

The fallen angels that answered his call on the drive over slipped back into the night. His pockets were three favors lighter, and better for it.

Horangi’s dark-as-sin hair slid past the door frame and out of sight. One moment of silence, and you spun on him. Pointing the bat at his chest, your brows furrowed so hard he worried you might pinch a nerve.

His hands lift of their own volition.

“Mien herz?”

“How long were you planning on waiting to tell me you’re King’s Healer?” You snap your question, whip-like in precision.

The first and only response you will get from him until the tent in his pants recedes is a loud and visible gulp.

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