#Hope you like this :)

[nuppu-nuppu]

I wanna watch yugioh again lol

[sky-kiss]

Hi love!

Okay so we all know I love your writing, especially for Raphael.

How about a scenario where Tav is in mortal peril and Korilla is NOT around/able to bail them out. Raphael has to do it himself. Well, he doesn't "have" to, but he will.

_________

A/N: MY QUEEN. I will do my best. Think this is the first time I've done a Tav who is DOWN BAD (in more ways than one).

_________

Korilla never failed him. 

It made it all the more shocking when the dwarf appeared at his side, stinking of sweat and brimstone. Her robe, ever flattering, was torn at the shoulder, and the slightly sweet, slightly sick, stink of burnt flesh filled the Devil’s Den. He reached out a hand on instinct, stabilizing her swaying form. The deal he’d been brokering fell by the wayside. A sinking feeling settled in his chest, all too familiar. His carefully laid plans might come apart at the seams. He felt invisible hands pulling at his stitches. 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

Korilla shook her head. “Your project…your mouse.” She winced. “Got in over her pretty head.” His warlock squeezed his wrist, “Raphael, I couldn’t…” She’d failed to protect his asset. “I kept them off her, but…”

The weight, curling, twisting; fate was determined to spite him again. And beneath that, more insidious, a second thought. Rage. Something had dared to touch her; something had maimed his pet. 

The cambion bowed to his guests, lips pursed. “My associate here, lovely as she is, shall have to entertain you for a moment. Beg pardon, my dears.” 

Raphael snapped his fingers. 

_________

Pain blossomed through her side. Tav staggered back a step, bringing her weapon up to intercept the blow. The blade doesn’t break the skin; she managed to stop that much. The impact…she’s less fortunate. Her muscles screamed, something tearing in her shoulder. 

She’d been stupid. Stupid and shortsighted…

All she’d wanted was a moment's peace. Tav had slipped from the party’s shared room at the Elfsong, determined to watch the sunset in silence. As dearly as she loved her friends, they could be loud and opinionated. After months on the road, with no privacy or distance, she figured she’d earned that much. 

Bhaal’s cultists were waiting. If it’d only been a handful, she could have handled herself. It’d been more, so many more. An inane thought chased through her head as she danced out of the way of another strike: how many changelings were left in Baldur’s Gate? How many Bhaal cultists did Orin have? It seemed excessive. 

Dozens. There were dozens of the damned creatures. For every cultist she killed, another three seemed to arise, like some hellish parody of the hydra. Tav was tired. One of them moved behind her, knife flashing in the dying light. Fresh pain as the blade tore through the muscles in her calf. She screamed. No, no, no, she had to keep moving. They couldn’t hobble her; she couldn’t…

“How dare you.” 

She barely recognized the voice. She was aware of his heat before anything else; the cambion appeared beside her in a wash of flame, catching her attacker by the throat. Panic flashed across the changeling’s face, the briefest hint of emotion before Raphael’s claws tightened their hold. A warm spray of blood coated her face as he tore its throat free, leaving it choking through the ruin of flesh. 

“Insolent creatures! You would touch what is mine?”

They tripped back, almost as one. Tav stared up at her savior, confused, vision swimming. The cambion, red, so red, fire and blood, his right-wing curled around her shoulders. Cherries and sulfur fill her nostrils, too sweet for the night air. Too soft in the face of his fury. Raphael snapped his fingers, and the air around them seemingly combusted. Hellfire consumed her would-be killers. Tendrils of shadow and flame consumed every ounce of flesh and bone, leaving nothing but a black mark on the streets. 

She blinked, staring up at him. Raphael’s eyes continued to blaze, his jaw set. He dusted a nonexistent speck of dust from his sleeve, lips curling in a sneer. “Strange, I expected the god of murder to employ hardier thralls.” 

Tav swallowed. Her throat burned. “Stealthy.” 

“Hmm?” 

She tried again, struggling to her feet. Raphael caught her elbow. Tav tried to ignore the press of his claws, itching, so full of potential, and the heat of his skin. It had to be the blood loss. His eyes glowed in the half-light. “Orin isn’t looking for hardy. They just need to be quick enough, quiet enough, to catch their victims off guard.” She frowned. “Tonight, they were.” 

“Yes.” The lowness of his voice chased along her nerves like a caress. “Are you bold or stupid, pet? The city wants you dead, and here you are.” He motioned to the darkness surrounding them, the alley nearly bereft of light. "A little mouse, alone in the dark."

She scoffed. “I needed…I wanted a moment to myself. Is that too much to ask?” His gaze flicked to the scorched flagstones, brow arched. Tav shook her head. “Regardless, thank you. It…” she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Thank you. For saving me.” 

“I sold myself as such, did I not? A friend and savior?” 

Tav smiled. “Truth be told, I didn’t believe you.” 

“And you’re more clever for it, sweetling.” 

Color flared in her cheeks. He was too close for this. Too close, too sweet-smelling, too handsome, and too much. The air in her lungs felt overheated and stagnant by comparison. The blood loss, undoubtedly. Tav chewed her lower lip. “Did you…Raphael, before the…did you call me yours?”  

His eyes narrowed. “Careful, pet.” It’s an answer in itself. Raphael extended his free hand to her. “Come. The devil shall return his erstwhile heroine to her companions.”

“I can make it back on my own.”

The severity of his expression left no room for argument. “No, you’ve lost the benefit of the doubt. I shall leave you safely in your bed. Not before.” 

She hated the flare of heat in her belly. Raphael's hand settled at the small of her back, wings curling more closely as he whispered the incantation to return them to her room. Weak as it may be, she wrapped her arms around him. 

The devil said nothing. But he bent, pressed nearer. Solid and strong, smelling of cherries and fire. Some part of her wondered what he would do if she kissed him.

Tav was saved from any potential embarrassment. Raphael left her at her bedside, bowing, smirking as if he’d followed the line of her thoughts. The damned creature took her left hand and kissed her knuckles. 

And then he was gone in a swirl of fire and ash. 

[not-neverland06]

If requests are still open, how about headcanons of Heisenberg with a reader that is a fifth lord. Reader's Cadou allows them to manipulate sound (radio) waves, and go as far as sonic scream. No pressure or rush, just curious on your interpretation :)

Karl Heisenberg x GN!reader A/N: This is only the second time I’ve done HC’s and I’m still struggling to get a grasp on them. Thank you for the request, your prompt was interesting to think about. This is a little short, so if I didn’t give you what you wanted let me know and I’ll try again.

He really doesn’t give a shit about you at first

Unless you go out of your way to catch his attention he’s treating you the same as he treats the rest of the family

Whatever your powers are, he’s gonna assume you’re just as bad as the rest of them and dismiss you

You have to actively make him notice you

It wouldn’t take a lot, maybe one snide comment towards Mother Miranda and suddenly you have value

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You scoffed, glaring down at the horde of Miranda’s worshippers that had surrounded the old church. You’d just been passing through town, picking something up from the duke before heading back up the mountain. 

Heisenberg happened to be there at the same time. You weren’t sure what his deal with the Duke was but it seemed to be complicated. His head perked up as you glared at the villagers. “What’s your problem?” He muttered, tone bitter. 

You nodded towards the villagers, “They are. All their Mother Miranda bullshit, I’m sick of it.” You walked back towards your lair, the old radio tower up in the mountain. It was the best place for you to be with the way your powers functioned, your strongest point. 

He watched as you went, staring at you contemplatively and wondering how he’d missed that hatred in your eyes. 

When he and Alcina start to argue, Miranda will just look at you and you’ll let out a scream so loud bits of drywall fall from the ceiling

It’s painful but it’s effective, you’re essentially used as a mute button when things get out of hand

You tend to avoid the others, keeping quiet and to yourself

When Miranda had first experimented on you, your experience with the sound waves had been less than pleasant

Learning to control them was difficult. The first time you spoke after waking up from her little experiment, you’d blown out your own eardrums. 

Even after you finally harnessed them, you figured that it was better to just be quiet. The times you did speak you kept your voice below a whisper. 

“You don’t talk a whole lot do you?”

You shrugged, “Only when I have to, really.” You sat in his workshop, mostly against your will. He’d invited you to dinner, though it felt like more of a command, and you’d tried to get him to make the journey up the mountain to you. 

He’d, of course, refused because he was a stubborn bastard. You didn’t even want to sit down anywhere, there was oil and blood on nearly every surface. And if it wasn’t covered in that, it was sticky with dried lycan drool. 

At least Moreau managed to keep his quarry clean.

Heisenberg hadn’t stopped staring at you since you sat down, it was starting to bug you.

You don’t normally speak with your family, mainly because you don’t really care for any of them. Having his attention on you was disturbing.

He sets his fork down on his plate and gives you an odd look, “How do your powers work, anyway?”

It was easier to show than it was to explain. You focused on the large pile of metal scraps on his desk and opened your mouth. The noise was nearly silent at first, a high pitched ringing that you questioned if you were actually hearing. 

Then it got louder, the ringing clear now. It was painful to anyone outside of the focused stream of sound waves, but it was lethal once you stepped into the stream. The metal shook, vibrating loudly against his desk. A few toppled over, the rest exploded in a violent display of clashing metal shards and sparks. 

Heisenberg clutched his ears, a small stream of blood leaking from between his fingertips. You want to apologize to him. You’ve always had a little difficulty controlling your powers in such close spaces. 

But he doesn’t look mad, he doesn’t even look like he’s in pain. Instead he’s grinning widely at you, something glinting in his eyes that had you feeling on edge. 

He sees the uniqueness of your powers, the untapped potential for violence and how helpful someone like you could be to his cause

He waters the seedling of resentment you already hold towards Miranda and helps it grow

He whispers words of hate and anger into your ear until you’re just as passionate about taking Miranda down as he is

You two work together, using your odd understanding of radio and sound waves to improve his soldat designs 

Slowly, your loyal followers from the village start to abandon you and move to different lords. Your connection to Heisenberg has soured your influence among the sheep in the village, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care

Your status as a lord meant little to you when you had him

He’s intrigued by your powers and loves to experiment with them, but more than anything there’s something soothed inside him because he’s no longer alone

He’s grateful for the support you provide when he feels like he’s just stagnant in his progress taking down Miranda

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Resident Evil Village, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[marinaiguess]

Amy flower scene? Amy flower scene.

Amy flower scene!

amy flower scene!!

(slightly alternate version under the cut)

[patolemus]

Wip (not) Wednesday

thank you @dontcallpanic for tagging me!! once again i am not doing this on wednesday lol. i unfortunately don’t have anything new from my time travel au because uni is kicking my ass right now and stiles is being unsurprisingly uncooperative but i know how much you love my demon!stiles au so… surprise?

Stiles loves dead bodies.

Okay, that sounds wrong. Stiles doesn’t love dead bodies, because he’s a demon, not a sociopath, and he actually does feel bad when people die. But dead bodies found in suspicious manners usually mean a murderer, and a murderer means a mystery. And Stiles oh so loves his mysteries.

Would he like for his mysteries to be murder-free? Oh, absolutely. Stiles is an asshole, pretty ruthless and more cruel than he probably should be—given the position of power he finds himself in as part of the problem-solving team in this town—but it’s not like he wants for people to die. It’s just that no one ever listens to him until they have a body.

So even if he feels bad about it, he can’t help the small thrill that runs up his spine when his stolen police scanner picks up an 187 alert. He’d been getting a feeling that something was going on lately—because honestly? Something is always going on in Beacon Hills, so when things are quiet for more than a couple of months, Stiles starts preparing for an epic smack down of apocalyptic proportions in his near future. And now that they finally have a dead body, the rest of the pack can’t chalk up his intuition as paranoia anymore.

Someday, he’ll get them to listen to him without question. But today is not that day, so he’ll have to make do with a dead body in the preserve, because it’s always a dead body in the preserve. One would think this town would have learned to leave the woods alone at this point.

Then again, they’d probably have to close the high school, too. And the hospital. And the Sheriff’s station.

And Derek’s loft.

So they get a lot of dead people in their sleepy cursed town. So what? It’s not their fault that there is an evil magic tree that attracts back luck and malicious intent like it’s going out of style.

this can either be the best idea i’ve ever had or completely blow up in my face. expect me in your dms freaking out about this at some point. no pressure tags for @kittykatstiles @fuji09 @oldefashioned (for when you're feeling up to it and only if you want to!!) @dear-massacre @hedwig221b @salty-fryingpan @novasillies and of course @dontcallpanic again, let's keep the cycle going! sorry y'all that i tagged again feel free to ignore me lol. and of course whoever wants to do it, got for it!

[ask-courier-eddie]

“Thank you Frank…”

Have you ever wonder how did he get that feather?…

Archivist!Frank belongs to @melancholic-crayons

[unreliabletv]

Darkheart!!

Requested by @simply-windy :3

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

Helloo! I love your ABC's series of Alan Rickman's characters and so happen to see that you posted a prompt idea list a few days ago! Could you do a "wearing the other person's clothes" and "head scratches" for Lionel Shahbandar please? (Either of the two is fine if it's too much 😅) Thanks! <3

Ohhhhhhhh I love this one. We're gonna go with both here. <3

Sleepy morning snuggles

Lionel Shabandar x Reader

Lions are softies at heart, sometimes they just want snuggles and scritches

It was an early Wednesday morning in London. The sky was grey, and rain was falling steadily against your apartment windows as you moved around your kitchen to make breakfast. Movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention and you turned your head to see your lover emerging from your bedroom, still looking sleep mussed. You tried to stifle a giggle as you saw what he was wearing. "What's so funny?" He asks, with a mock indigent glare. His deep voice even more gravely than usual. "Nothing." you reply, innocently, shifting you attention back to the toaster in front of you, "Pink's a good colour on you." He shook his head, a smile tugging on his lips as he closed the distance between you. "Well, it was the only dressing gown you had, and someone made off with my shirt." He ran his hands down your sides to your hips, his palms gliding across the soft, white button up shirt you were wearing. It looked like a mini dress on you. Gripping your hips gently, he turned you to face him. "Not that I mind. I quite enjoy seeing you wearing my clothes." Leaning in and pulling you closer, he pressed a trail of soft, lazy kisses from your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You brought your arms up to wrap around his shoulders and he responded by nuzzling his face against the curve of your neck. Your body relaxed fully against his. He was still warm from your bed and his arms made you feel safe and secure. You slipped on hand up from his shoulder to the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his greying hair. You flexed your fingers, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails the way you knew he liked. The soft moan of pleasure he let out sounded almost like a purr. Lions were just big cats after all.

[nectorbruise]

Hi I just went crazy and drew this for the past two hours

I started with lineless because whenever I use the fill liqufy tool I lose my mind. This did not disappoint. So Roman Sanders as the hanged man tarot card

[gmaybe666]

this is basically two middle school girlies fighting

full college!kenstewy comic!

context for their fight

[nuppu-nuppu]

I can’t stop drawing him

[lonelyheartedmusings]

In the park, on a nice sunny day, a fox-boy trap was having a jog, until suddenly, he started to have his heat cycle. He was suddenly filled with the desire to mate and to breed. Nothing else mattered to the cuntboy vixen at this point.

@greninjazac

[will80sbyers]

BYLER WEEK - DAY 1 THEME: CLERADIN / D&D

[sweetbrier2908]

HIS EYES

Lucifer

Lucifer's eyes are like two rubies on fire. There is always something in those eyes - pride, wrath, trust, fear, protection, regret - there is always something in Lucifer's eyes, there is always a burning fire in Lucifer's eyes. That is something you always know since the moment you saw him.

You know all too well that fire is going to burn you. The fire inside him is similar to the fire presented in those ruby-red eyes. The fire is going to burn you the same way it used to burn those pure white feathers. You know too well, all too well, when he looks in your eyes.

But the fire leads you to touch those fingers covered in black velvet, but the fire leads you to those cold thin lips, but the fire leads you to his bed and the fire leads him to you.

Lucifer's eyes are still two rubies on fire. For the first time ever, you have seen your reflection in that fire.

[delzinrowe]

happy valentine's day ღ to my favourite geto girlie @just-avi-youknow

[bellamyblake]

The world hurts less when I'm by your side

He was fine now, though and when they asked 'Why couldn’t he stand up now?' or 'had he seen a real rifle and shot one?' he answered them with ease he didn’t know he possessed until then. 

At some point one of the babies pushed his hat off and the scar he had on his head from the blast got out, now much visible with his shorter hair. They all climbed up on him and awed at that, asking if they could touch it.

“Do you have metal brains? Are you a robot, uncle Bell?” they asked and he laughed.

“No, not really, sweetheart.” he stroke a little girl’s hair while Andrew kept peaking at his scar.

“That’s badass!” he exclaimed “I want to be like you when I grow up.” that made Bellamy’s heart skip a beat, though and he carefully placed his hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

“Trust me, kid, you do not.” Andrew furrowed his eyebrows a little and tilted his head in confusion “You should leave the war games on the playfield, alright?”

“But I want to be like you and my dada!”

“And you can, if that’s what you really think you should do but what I’m trying to tell you is that there are other stuff out there too. You don’t need to carry the burden of your family on your shoulders, alright?” Andrew thought about it for a second and Bellamy wasn’t sure the kid let the words sink in but he shrugged a little, gave him a small nod and then ran off after Ares again. 

At some point they all gathered the kids back inside because the wind got quite harsh and cold. Bellamy patted Ares’ head too and laughed when he looked down at his friend-his tongue was out and he looked exhausted.

“Too old for that stuff, huh, big boy?” Ares whined as he followed Bellamy back inside just when sister Hannah welcomed him at the front door with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What made you think that being out in this horrible cold weather could be any good for your lungs, young man?” she scolded.

“I’m sorry, sister.” she huffed and came behind him, picking the wheelchair and pushing it down to the left hallway.

“Sorry sister, sorry sister, that’s all I’ve been hearing from you today.”

“That’s because I truly am.”

“Right.” Bellamy coughed a little and looked up at her innocently, making her roll her eyes at him “Come on, we're going to the clothing storage.”

“I was thinking of going to the library-” he began carefully but the look she sent in his direction was enough to make him completely change the ending of the sentence “but I definitely need clothes more than books now, you’re right.”

“That’s what I thought.” she commented “Silly child.” he smiled but when she fixed the hat back on his head and rubbed his shoulder, he knew she was trying to apologize for her harshness and he offered her a soft look in return.

What was really funny was that all the women and children joined them down the hallway and the kiddos kept jumping around Bellamy and poor tired Ares, asking for attention. They apparently had a shift at the storage room, distributing donated clothes and it just turned everything into a sort of game for the kids.

Sister Hannah wasn’t happy about it and was trying to put some order in it while Ares fell asleep under the table with a toddler sprayed on his back, a little boy with dark hair that refused to leave him. 

Bellamy pushed his wheelchair to the edge of the table while all the other kids, seemingly already in love with him, piled up all around him, Andrew, a few girls and some baby boys crawling all over the place near him while he picked them up and settled them on their tiny butts, hoping to keep them down for a minute.

The moms really had to work and so did sister Hannah, so the best he could think of was tell them a story.

“Okay now, shush...shush, let’s let your mamas work, huh? How about a story? Would you like me to tell you a story?”

“What story?” asks Andrew rather suspicious and Bellamy beams “We know all the fairy tales.”

“It’s not a fairy tale. It’s a Greek myth. Have you heard of those?” they all shake their heads and he picks up one of the crawling babies whose name was Leah and who was a bit of a menace so he puts her on his lap and jostles her a bit “Do you know about Hades and Persephone? Or Zeus and Europa? Or Promethius the man who dared to steal fire from the gods and give it to us, the humans?” the kids all shook heads but huddled together and looked at Bellamy with expectation in their eyes.

“Tell us.” Andrew asked and Bellamy smiled as he rested his back on his wheelchair.

“So Hades was the Greek god of the underworld and he fell horribly in love with a beautiful girl called Persephone-” he begins and they all collectively hold their breaths as he talks. He tells them all about it-their love, how Hades kidnapped her which elicited a responce from the others saying “That’s bad! That’s wrong” making him smile, then how the seasons came to be, how much Demeter loved her. 

Everyone listened instensely until he finished, even the mothers and sister Hannah were quiet in their work. 

When he was done some of them were half asleep like the baby in his lap and others were staring as if they just realized something big, Andrew among them.

Full chapter can be FOUND HERE