#also hi sorry to all the half life folks following me now I just have to go insane for a lil bit here ok? ok love youu

[zanukavat]

secret keeper

[lovenotesuggestions]

I’m alive

I’m sorry for abandoning this blog for like 3-4 years. Executive dysfunction just kind of got on top of me and I couldn’t keep up with it anymore, and the further behind I got the more insurmountable it became to get back on top of it. I’m sorry to everyone who never got a reply to their messages/asks. 

I’m trialing migrating back to tumblr after *gestures broadly at twitter* and while I don’t have the bandwidth to revive this blog, I’m proud of the little community we had here and I don’t plan to delete anything. I remember the time I spent on here fondly and I wish I could have kept doing it. Thank you to everyone who supported me over the years the blog was active, especially folks who sent regular asks. 

As a little life update, I am still with the person who I made this blog about - we’ve been together over 6 and a half years now. We moved back to our hometown with our three cats, he’s doing his Master’s degree and I have a proper grown-up job now. I had my two year HRT anniversary this year, I’m pursuing an autism assessment for myself, and I got really into Dungons & Dragons over the pandemic. 

I hope everyone is doing as well as you can be. Feel free to send updates, I’ll keep the inbox of this account open (though I probably won’t be answering advice asks). But you will probably find me for the most part over on my new main blog @queerf0xx (which currently doesn’t have anything on it). Also basically everyone I followed back in the day has been inactive as long as I have, so I welcome any recommendations for blogs to follow. 

Sending my love to you all,

-Fox

[writeforfandoms]

Jen you wonderful human you congratulations on reaching 500 followers bebita!

"Sharing injuries - you receive an injury in the same place your soulmate does though to a lesser extent" Ok. Upon seeing this I immediately yearn for our soft grump Pero. Would you please bless us with a story about this Spaniard?

Also umm there's this prompt I saw the other day that just screams Pero so I dunno if you're open to it but I had to at least let you know: “You want me to act like your paramour to annoy your parents? And what do I get out of it?” “How about the best food in the kingdom and the most luxurious lodging you can even imagine?” “Sold.” I mean does this not feel so on brand for him, always thinking with his stomach 😂😂😂

Maybe you wanna include it in the scene? Like, the silly pretend dating thing leads to them finding out about their entwined destinies? Maybe not? Writer's choice, of course, and thank you Jen! 💞

Hello my darling friend! I am so sorry this took me so long. 

I didn’t end up using exactly the prompt, but I think I kind of got the feel of it rather than the words. Hopefully you enjoy!

Now presenting...

Blood In the Water

You had lived a sheltered life, and you knew it. You had received very few injuries over your life, perhaps a half dozen or so. 

Your soulmate was a different story entirely. 

You'd received dozens of wounds from them, some severe, some less so. Your parents were, of course, horrified. Their precious daughter was tied to someone clearly steeped in violence. A soldier perhaps, or a mercenary. 

But no one of status to marry you, certainly not. That would be below your station, and so unacceptable. At least as far as your parents were concerned. 

Honestly, with all the marks you had received and carried over the years, you wanted to meet this soulmate, to see what he was like. 

The opportunity didn't come for years. You'd practically given up on ever meeting him. You knew he was still alive because you still found occasional bruises and injuries on yourself that were not yours, but not as often now as when you were both younger. 

And of course now you were of marriageable age. Past age, really. Your parents were pushing suitors at you, although they were also waiting to see who offered the best benefits. 

Because of course your parents didn't marry for love, and didn't care about that consideration for you, either. It was all politics to them.

Which is why you escaped as often as you could, disguising yourself as best you could and mingling with the common folk. Oh they were not always much good for conversation, but you could at least watch and listen and observe. And, most importantly, be away from the house. 

It was in this way that you first heard of the mercenaries. They had stopped to winter in your town, four of them. One of them, the blonde one, seemed amiable enough - from the talk you'd heard, he was amenable to sharing stories in the evening at the inn. 

You knew little about the others. But you were beginning to have a plan. 

You didn't want to marry some rich man you didn't know. Everyone expected you to, of course. And maybe if you were less difficult or less willful or a more dutiful daughter, you would have done it anyway. 

But you were who you were, and you were too wild for this life. Too stubborn. 

So you plotted. 

It was easy to see that the mercenaries were taking odd jobs for the winter - they couldn't continue to travel, not safely, and needed money to get them through the season. 

Four of them was overkill for your purposes, but fortunately they didn't come as a set package. You'd seen one take a job, or two. 

So the question became which two?

The blonde one was an easy choice. You wanted one you could talk to easily enough. The other three, though… you were debating between them until two things happened simultaneously. 

The blonde one was talking to his dark-haired companion - they seemed closer, spending more time together. But it was the first time you'd gotten a proper look at his face. 

The scar on his face was striking. And familiar. You had had a similar injury years ago - your parents had been livid, as the mark was impossible to hide and open proof that your soulmate was someone of a lower station. 

Honestly, that scar made you about 90% certain that this was your soulmate. The placement and size were a perfect match. 

So he became your second choice. 

Next was the issue of approaching them. You needed to do it quietly and out of sight. 

You got lucky one evening and caught them outside, away from prying eyes and ears. 

"You two are mercenaries, yes?" You looked between the two, shoulders back, chin up. 

"We are," the blonde one replied, slowly but not concerned. 

"I'd like to hire you."

At that, the dark-haired one snorted and leaned in to mutter something angry-sounding to his companion. But it wasn't in a language you knew, leaving you clueless. Which you rather thought was by design. 

Your potential soulmate was less than polite. Lovely. 

"For what job?" The blonde one asked, still polite. His gaze flicked over you, assessing, leaving you a little warm. 

"I have some suitors that I need you to scare off."

The dark haired one scoffed. "Poor spoiled brat doesn't want to marry who her parents picked?" he spat, scowling at you. 

You scowled right back at him. "I'd rather find my soulmate first." 

He grumbled something you didn't understand but leaned back a bit. Apparently he was leaving it up to the blonde one now. 

"We will need payment for our services," he said, watching you with one eyebrow raised. 

That much you had covered. You pulled a couple coins out of your sleeve, where you had stored them expressly for this purpose. You handed the coins to the blonde one and stood, waiting his decision. 

He inspected the coins and both eyebrows flew up his forehead. Then he nodded. "It would seem we are in your employ." 

You nodded your satisfaction of that, smiling just a little. "Good. I don't want them killed or anything, just scared off." 

The blonde nodded. "Easy enough," he agreed. "You have their names?"

You rattled off the names easily, without hesitation. The dark haired one was watching you, a slight sneer on his lips. But you didn't let him bother you, simply meeting his gaze for a few moments in a silent challenge before you focused on the blonde one again. 

He nodded. "How can we contact you?" 

"I'll meet you here in three nights," you decided. It was too risky to have them come up to the house - they'd never get to you. 

"We shall see you then." The blonde stepped away from you, and his dark haired companion followed him inside. 

Feeling victorious (and a little cold), you hurried back home. 

Perhaps now things would be easier. 

One suitor had a sudden emergency come up and withdrew. You smiled behind your hand when he did. He had been your least favorite pick, as he had been a slimy man who made your skin crawl. 

So, that was one down and two to go. 

You met with the mercenaries that night. The blonde was waiting outside for you, and ushered you inside to a table in the back where the dark haired one was waiting. 

"One has gone home," you told them with a grin. 

"He was easy," the blonde agreed. "The other two will be less so." 

You shrugged and slid two more coins to the blonde. "I don't care how long it takes. I can keep this up until spring thaw, if I must."

"Why?" The dark haired one glowered at you, the question rough and sudden. "Why not just marry one of the fools?" 

Your jaw clenched and you had to work through some initial irritation at him. "I don't expect you to understand," you finally settled on. 

"Understand that any of these men could offer you a comfortable life?" He snarled. 

"Tovar–" the blonde started, somewhere between exasperated and annoyed. 

"Ah yes, a life of comfort, where I am expected to risk my life to give him children with little in return," you shot back, eyes narrowing. 

"Food and shelter is no little thing," Tovar growled back at you. 

"Food and a cage, you mean."

"I think we got off track," the blonde interrupted, putting his hands out and giving his companion a Look. "Let's calm down before we draw attention to ourselves."

You took a deep breath. He was right. Your current freedoms depended on your discretion, and clearly this Tovar had none. "Agreed. Thank you, sir. If there is nothing else of note for tonight?" 

He shook his head, just a little. "Let me walk you out," he offered, standing. 

You stood as well with one last cold look to Tovar, who was scowling at the fireplace now and ignoring your presence. You turned and let the blonde escort you out. 

"I'm William, by the way," he said casually. 

You felt yourself warm with slight embarrassment, and you gave him your name in turn. 

"Please ignore Tovar. He's always grouchy, but he especially dislikes the winters here." William smiled a little at you. "He has no manners."

You laughed softly at the assessment. "Well, you're not wrong." You paused outside and looked at him. "When would you like to meet again?"

"Four days. We'll meet you here, same as before." 

You nodded and turned to go, and paused at a gentle call of your name. 

"Do you have plans for after this?" 

You blinked. "Not really," you admitted. "Honestly, I need to get past this part first, then worry about the rest." You shrugged and continued on. 

That was the truth. You needed more time to figure out what you wanted to do with the rest of your life, once you had options available to you. 

The next days passed quickly. Well. Mostly. You managed to slice your hand, scowling at the blood and cleaning yourself up with the help of one of your maids. 

Another suitor left. You heard rumors that he left with a split lip, but he did leave. 

And when you met with William and Tovar again, you almost didn't notice. But you put your hands on the table, and Tovar focused on your left hand. 

"What is this?" He asked, his right hand tugging your left closer to him. 

"Just a scratch," you dismissed, frowning at him. "Nothing to be concerned about."

He released your hand but stared at the bandaging the entire time you and William talked. 

William seemed content to ignore his friend's odd behavior, but you were keeping an eye on Tovar. He was strange, and you were still not convinced that he was not your soulmate. 

Not that you were going to do anything with that information, not right now. 

Finally, you stood to leave, and to your surprise so did Tovar. You blinked at him, and he merely grunted and nodded for you to go first. Perplexed but unwilling to argue, you agreed, stepping out into the cold ahead of him. 

"This last man… you should be careful of him," Tovar said once you were both outside. 

"You think he will do something?" Your heart stuttered in your chest at the thought. You lived a sheltered life, yes, but not one free of rumor and gossip. You knew what damage men could inflict on women. 

Tovar shrugged. "I do not know, but is better not to find out, yes?" 

You nodded slowly. "Well. Thank you for the warning." 

Tovar was looking at your hand again. He caught your wrist gently, lifting your hand slowly to examine the bandaging. You watched him, lips parted just a little in surprise. When he finally saw you looking, he looked away and dropped your hand. 

"Do not get hurt again," was all he said before he turned and stomped back inside. You stared after him until a brush of wind made you shiver, and you hurried home. 

The last suitor was stubborn. He kept trying to get you alone. Tried to follow you to your room once. 

He scared you, in a way the other two hadn't. And you were eager to be rid of him. 

Perhaps it was this haste that made you slip. Perhaps you were not wary enough. 

But the result was the same. 

You slipped on some stairs going down to the tavern to meet the two mercenaries for an update. You landed hard on your side, and pain emanated from the spots that hit the stairs. You'd have bruises later, you were sure of it. 

And then he was there. The final suitor. Glee brightened his eyes and widened his grin, and he bent over you. 

"There you are," he cooed with false sympathy. "I've been looking for you. Here, let me help you." One of his hands grabbed your wrist, far too tight, wrenching a cry from your lips. In an instant, his other hand was over your mouth, silencing you. 

Your eyes went wide and you jerked in his hold. You couldn't believe he had you, that he had actually grabbed you. 

"Stop moving," he growled, the cheer falling from his face, fingers gripping you even tighter. "Or I'll do worse. Understand?"

Terrified, you stopped moving. His smile returned, once again full of false sympathy and charm. 

"Better," he agreed. "Now, here's what we are going to do." 

But you didn't get to hear what you were going to do next. Because a knife appeared at the man's throat. 

"I suggest you start by leaving town," Tovar growled, low and dangerous. "Without her." 

The man's grip tightened for a moment before he released you. You stumbled back away from him, hands trembling. 

"Start walking," Tovar snarled, a second knife appearing and pressing into the man's back. 

For a moment, you thought that would be it. That would be the end of this suitor. 

But he turned sharply, and the two men struggled over the knives. One knife clattered to the ground, and you picked it up quickly. Tovar grunted as the two struggled over the knife. The suitor got the upper hand briefly, twisting the knife and nicking Tovar's hand. Tovar growled something in another language, and one foot swept out and kicked the suitor in the knee. He fell with a strangled yell, relinquishing his grip on the knife. 

Tovar stood victorious over him, knife poised under the suitors jaw, glaring. 

"Leave," he growled, voice deep and rough and furious. "Before I decide you're worth the trouble of killing." 

The suitor finally, finally backed away, scrambling on his hands, until he could stand and run. 

For a few moments, you and Tovar stood there in quiet. He was breathing steadily, resheathing his knife, hands steady. You, on the other hand, were trembling a little, gripping the knife probably too tightly, breathing a little fast. 

Tovar turned to you and held his hands out. "Give me the knife," he murmured, voice low and even. "Take a deep breath. Relax your fingers."

You made a choked noise but did as he said, taking a deep breath and relaxing your fingers. He stepped in closer and gently took hold of the knife, taking it from you. 

He stopped. Tucked the knife away. And gently took hold of your hand. 

You had a cut. A smaller cut. In the same place his was still bleeding sluggishly. 

You lifted your gaze slowly to his, finding a mirrored surprise in his eyes. You had suspected, had even been mostly sure with his eye, but to have plain confirmation this way… 

Well, you could hardly be blamed for kissing him. 

--

Taglist: @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira @kiizhikehn-cedar @green-socks @withakindheartx @linkpk88 @anditsmywholeheart @amneris21 @grogusmum @eri16 @pedrostories @alexxavicry @elegantduckturtle @pjkimrn @trash-dino-5000 @mandalwhorean @mswarriorbabe80 @magikfanatic @ickystickysap @luz-introvertida @hb8301 @bruxasolta @lowlights @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @chaoticgeminate @thirddeadlysin @beskarprincessjenny @stevie75 @the-feckless-wonder @janebby @idreamofboobear @jaime1110 @recklessworry @hotchlover @snarwor @bowtiesandsandshoes @scorpio-marionette @buckybarneshairpullingkink @borinquenasoy @practicalghost @beecastle @phandoz @tintinn16 @tanzthompson @the-fic-baker @churchill356 @tentacruels @fabilei @trickstersp8 @ruhro7 @karlawithacapitalk @grippleback-galaxy @thesmutslut @harriedandharassed @quica-quica-quica @littlemisspascal @ezras-channel-rat @miraclesabound 

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Hi I’m sorry to bug you (pun intended) but do you mind explaining everything you listed in the 2023 tumblr bug poll. I’ve been here all year but I don’t think I understand all of the options. You have been really fun to follow this year I appreciate your presence in our community :)

thank you Anon 1 that is very kind of you to say!!!! :)

All right, buckle up folks:

Get Back day-by-day re-watch (January): In January some people on decided to rewatch the bits of Get Back from that specific date, some also went through the nagra tapes of that day. They'd make cool compilation posts with moments that stuck out to them. I just remembered it was actually called Get Backuary :) I didn't really participate though because January is a busy time for me, in general.

Beatles poll wars (around February-April): once the poll feature reached bug tumblr we started having a LOT of polls and it caused a not insignificant amount of discourse and accusations of "bootlicking" or whatever lol. Interestingly, we discovered that Paul and George have roughly the same amount of fans (taking ~35% each) and John and Ringo also have about the same amount of and only about half as many fans (~15% each).

McLennon Conspiracy Blogger Disappearance Event (April): I explained this here, though I forgot to mention that in mid-April this blogger went scorched earth and dropped off tumblr completely. One time they made a post insinuating that no one's ever bothered wondering why John was depressed in 65/66 (and implied it was because THEY knew McLennon had broken up for a while or something)… Sir, this is the John Lennon Psychoanalysis Website.

Eyes of the Storm (June): Paul published a book and held an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery featuring tons of never before seen pictures from late 1963 to early 1964. Very fun time though people randomly claimed the majority of the pics were John when that wasn't really true lol there was just a general bias in which pictures from the gallery got shared.

Now And Then announcement + initial discourse (June): in a radio interview to promote said gallery, Paul offhand mentioned he had used Peter Jackson's AI technology to isolate John's vocal and "the last Beatles song" would be released later this year. There was a first wave of discourse from people thinking Paul was gonna use an AI-generated John vocal, rather than use AI to isolate an existing vocal (this was so frustrating because it was so clear in context what Paul meant but online news just ran with it). Then, there was a second wave of discourse (which was revived upon the songs release) over the extent of George's involvement and how much he would have wanted this.

Beatles song tournament (July–August): A sideblog was created to do a Beatles song poll battle. It got a bit intense lol. Everyone started hatejerking about Hey Jude beating A Day In The Life in the semi-finals.

Top Worm™ (August): Literally One Of The Greatest Moments On This Site. Also, let no one tell you John wasn't Top Worm. It is law.

Now And Then song + video (November): think this one's self-explanatory but basically Now And Then came out, we all reacted to it, the video came out the next day and was kinda hilariously bad but in the funniest way possible, George Discourse Part 2 and also How Much Is Paul Allowed To Change John's Song Discourse which I found puzzling lol. Someone said him removing a verse was "Paul Rewriting History". fantastic. no notes. what a time to be alive.

[randomheadcanons]

When Aaron and Mona meet, 1810.

Aaron liked Forsaken Bluff. It was a mostly sleepy little town that suited Aaron just fine. Additionally, because the town catered to supernatural folk, they often had warm blood on hand. That always made his journey back from the California territory of Mexico easier. It wouldn’t be long before it became a state territory, Aaron reasoned; it had too much value as a resource haven for the Union not to take notice and ultimately grab it for itself.

His time in California was good; he and Bruce always had a good time. He also took the opportunity to get to know the other vampires in the area; one never knew when it would come in handy, and Aaron liked to keep tabs.

But it was time to head home. He had some affairs to attend to back in Jamestown. He needed to check on his younger brother, Samual. Though younger was a relative term at this point; Samual would be about 45 now, Aaron mused. Far older than Aaron himself would ever get. And “checking in” as Aaron saw it, was probably far more unsettling to a human than a vampire. Aaron loitered around his family’s farm, of which Samuel was now the owner. He would hang around for a couple days, watching his brother, before leaving a monetary gift on the doorstep before disappearing. Aaron never left a note, nor did he stick around to see Samuel find the envelope. He simply left, trusting that Samuel would do what he needed to do with the money.

Hopefully invest, Aaron thought to himself with a snort before entering the saloon. While the stock market was less than 20 years old, Aaron sensed that it was going to be quite popular, especially as his contacts in New York were involved in the original market in Holland.

“What will you have?” The bartender asked. She was tall and tan. Her blonde hair was bound at the nape of her neck, the scar on her lip bending with her smile.

“A glass of A-” Aaron smiled, taking a seat at the bar.

The bartender grimaced. “Sorry darling,” She apologized. “I’ve got AB+ and O-“.

“O is fine,” Aaron assured, waving his hand.

The woman nodded. “Want anything in that?”

“Uh,” Aaron mused, “Bourbon, if you don’t mind.”

“Make that two,” said a new voice to Aaron’s right. He looked over and smiled.

Vampires, generally, were beautiful; it was a natural part of their arsenal to catch prey. When turned, a human’s most attractive attributes were heightened, to better draw in their next meal. Aaron was used to seeing beautiful vampires.

But this woman was something else entirely.

Her deep, rich, dark hair was coiled elegantly on top of her head, with wind whipped strands framing her face. Her equally dark eyes drew Aaron in immediately, and he knew that those eyes had seen centuries of life already. Her lips…her lips were a soft pink and would no doubt gain some color with the blood cocktail that was placed in front of her and Aaron.

She was alluring.

“Hope you don’t mind that I swooped in,” she said, picking up her drink.

Aaron blinked, “No, of course not,” he assured, putting 2 half dollars on the counter. “My treat,”

She smiled, craning her head over to a quiet table in the back. “That’s kind of you,” She said softly. “Care to join me?”

Had Aaron had a heartbeat, it would’ve skipped several beats.

He picked up his own drink before following her to the table. He beat her to it and pulled her chair out for her, which she took, tucking the seat of her dress underneath her as she sat.

The other nice thing about Forsaken Bluff, Aaron mused, was that he could move as freely and quickly as he desired without fear of repercussions.

“What brings you to Forsaken Bluff?” the woman asked, taking a slow sip.

“Passing through,” Aaron supplied, “Coming from California, and you?”

“Heading to,” she said with a smile. ”meeting some acquaintances there,”

“Are you traveling alone?” Aaron asked, some concern in his voice.

She laughed. “Yes.” She paused, taking another sip. “It’s 1810, after all. And I can take care of myself,”

”Of that I have no doubt,” Aaron agreed. “Where is home?”

“Italy,” she said, glancing out the window, “have you been?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “There’s so much to explore here,” he said, gesturing around, then grinned. “But I have time.”

She nodded. “Plenty of time.” She agreed, finishing her drink and offering her hand. “I’m Desdemona de Leon,” she introduced herself. “And you?”

“Aaron Shepard,” he replied, taking her hand and pressing his lips to the back of her hand. Her eyebrows rose in bemusement.

“A true American then,” she mused.

Aaron nodded. “Yes ma’am, born 15 years before the War, turned in 1781.”

“Oh very young,” Desdemona commented.

Aaron shrugged and smiled easily, “Plenty of time to explore,” he agreed. She smiled back. It was like the sunrise Aaron hadn’t hadn’t seen in 30 years.

“Well, Mr. Shepard,” She said, standing up. Aaron aimed to follow before she lifted up her hand, “Please, no need to rise on my accord.” She said, holding up a half dollar up. She smiled. “Your next drink is on me. Thank you for your company.”

Aaron nodded with a smile. “Will we meet again?” He asked, eyes meeting hers.

Her dark eyes met his and a smile played on her lips. She opened his palm and lightly placed the coin in it before curling her fingers over his to close around it.

“I’ll make sure of it.” She promised.

And then she was gone. And Aaron was out of breath.

[lockandkeyhyena]

Sorry in advance for the long block of text here… Ive been seeing your ocs all over my feed and now im obsessed!!! Hope you do not mind answering my 5000 questions!! . ~ What was Hercules like as a wee lad?… For the sake of science if you stuck him in a room with 6 other children, what would he do..? would he have any notable / unusual habits compared to the others….? ~ If Hercules could wish for anything ever in the world what would he wish for. Also whats the most expensive thing hes ever bought! ~ Does he have any consistent quirks/stims…? Any silly gestures or quotes ? ~ What do you think an average day would be like for him ? What does he usually eat ? … Hows his morning / evening routines? Is it basic or extensive? Do you think hed be the type to take an hour long candle-lit shower and bathe himself in 50 creams lotions perfumes … or does he just dip and go ? ~ What is his house like…? Does he have his own or is it a family home / did he inherent it. Do you have any idea what it would look like ? What does his own personal room look like ? does he enjoy keeping/collecting anything in particular , or is he a minimalist

Okay now for the sake of science and connecting to Hercules psychologically I must know how he would react to the following scenarios: ~ If he one day woke up in a 4x4 cage in the middle of the Arizona desert what would be do? … ~ If he was walking around one day and suddenly the government said his city was gonna be nuked in 10 MINUTES what would he do? … ~ If he went to walmart and saw a child throwing a tantrum over toys what would he do? …. ~ If he was sitting around and a cute little kitty or puppy came up to him and wanted food and pets really badly what would be do? … ~ if he was going on about his day and, bare with me now, was firsthand witness to the oppa homeless style tumblr text post scenario, in real life, what would he do? That is all .... Thank you for your time homie of tumblr nation

please DO NOT apologise these sorts of questions and character analysis things are the stuff i LIVE for. strap in folks its gonna be a long one gonna answer these in bulletpoint form maybe a drawing or two scattered throughout!

~ Hercules was,, uhhh,,,,, Not that similar to other children and that fact only exacerbated as he got older. At his mentally healthiest he probably would’ve gotten a lot of ‘wow you’re so mature for your age!’s from adults. Growing up being completely desensitised to violence and in a relatively loving but still very fucked up environment will do that to you.

In regards to sticking him in a room with a bunch of other children and seeing what happens- he actually went to kindergarten! Titan was surprisingly firm that he have as regular of an education and upbringing possible for the kid of a mafia boss. She…. half-managed.

In regards to your thought experiment, here are some drawings from his time at kindergarten when he was at his least traumatised!

~ If he could wish for anything. This is an amazing question- what do you give the man who thinks he has everything he wants? He’d probably wish for whatever problem in the moment that was stumping him to be fixed (gang relations, nosy detectives, etc). Personally I think he should wish for some therapy but thats just me.

In regards to money, he’s really not that extravagant a spender (leave that to Titan) and his quarters are rather modest, the most he’s ever spent on things are probably gifts for his mother lol.

~ Oh BOY does he have stims- he taps. He’ll rhythmically tap his cane on the floor, tap his feet, twitch his tail and tap his nails against the nearest surface. He usually does this when he’s impatient or bored and it’s Not a good sound to hear when in a meeting with him. Though he tends to do this unconsciously and will usually stop if he notices and is in the company of other people (he thinks its unprofessional).

~ Like I said above, he’s really not super into decadence, he thinks extravagance and showy displays of wealth are tacky and unnecessary. His morning routine is probably something along the lines of wake up at 8am, take an ice cold shower, get dressed, eat breakfast (homecooked meals only. He’s a surprisingly good cook), check up on his finances, go do all the things he needs to do for the day, come back home and go to sleep. Very important note is that he wears those cartoon blue and white striped pyjamas.

~ DESPITE not being into overt displays of wealth, he does in fact live in a giant fuck off victorian mcmansion that he inherited from his mother. He doesn’t even use half of it and spends all his time in the house either sleeping or holed up in his study.

His study is a mess btw. Papers everywhere, needs to be swept. He’s very embarrassed about it but since he only ever uses it for all-nighters he never has any time to clean or organise it. His bedroom is immaculately tidy with only a few personal effects and the rest of the house aside from the essentials and a few guest rooms is covered in a fine layer of dust.

okay and here are his reactions to some hypothetical scenarios!

~ Cage in the desert. Okay so his thought process would probably go something like this;

Step one. Don’t panic. Evaluate the time of day through the position of the sun. Scan memories from last night to check for any gaps or places he could have been drugged.

Step two. Go down through his list of enemies and try and figure out who was most likely to have done this.

Step three. Do not panic. Felines can survive for three days without water. It likely hasn’t been more than half a day since he was kidnapped and Leroy will have been alerted to his disappearance and is likely looking for him now.

Step four. Do. Not. Panic. Stay put and attempt to look for weaknesses in the cage, if none can be found stay put and don’t waste your energy. Prepare to drink your own piss if things get bad. Also prepare snarky retort for when Leroy finds you.

~ Nuke scenario. Probably try very hard not to panic and follow his emergency evacuation plan of the city and try to get as far away as possible with his friends most valuable employees.

~ Child tantrum. Depending on the age of the child he might just straight up flash a gun at them to try and get them to shut up. He wasn’t this whiny as a kid- what’s their problem?

~ Very cute animal begging for attention. If alone, the most logical course of action is to acquiesce to its’ demands and give it a pat. It doesn’t take away attention from the task at hand will get it to stop making annoying noises. If he’s with other people he would ask them to give it attention to get it to stop bothering him.

~ Oppa homeless style. He would slowly back away, go home, get out a bottle of his strongest liquor and re-evaluate what he’s doing with his life. Too bad oppa homeless style doesn’t exist in the canon of sadboycats 😔

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE QUESTIONS and apologies for the absolute wall of text in response. These kitties have been eating up my brain.

[desnas]

!! (For the ask meme!)

okay i just want to start off by saying i'm so deeply sorry this took me so long to reply too (we're in the process of a move so i've been sooo busy. also have adhd brain worms)

from this ask prompt!

i was originally going to do this for signe, because she's one of my oldest ocs but i've had taro on the mind lightly and it's all consuming so i just know for a fact that i need to talk about them here

this is taro! any prns are fine (they/she/he/fae/faer)

they are my main pathfinder: wrath of the righteous knight commander, and a druidic feyspeaker half-elf from the mwangi expanse!

they follow the green faith while simultaneously worshipping desna / shimye-magalla, and they have an animal companion, a large elk named moyobi! their best friend and noble steed...

spotify | pinterest

more under the cut to keep this from clogging up folks' dashes :)c

cw for disease/plague/sickness/cancer!

so taro doesn't quite have a full name. taro amalathea is what i have so far, but i've been trying to decide on their last name for months now. i figure it will come to me when it's ready lol, so far nothing's sounded right

that aside, taro is a very colorful and vibrant person. they aren't ashamed of who they are! they are wholly devoted to nature and the restoration of golarion, the planet they live on.

they were born in western mwangi to a bonuwat human mother and an ekujae elven mother (two moms :))

their elven mother was born with an incredibly adventurous spirit, prompting her to leave behind her life among other ekujae-- when she travelled west, she found the bonuwat peoples and fell for taro's other mom-- together, they had a child and began to wander with a desnan caravan around the expanse. this was how taro grew-- on the road with a whacky, ragtag family of people from all over the expanse travelling together with a shared love for desna. for music, art, magic, nature, and beauty, but most of all, dreams.

taro's childhood was incredibly enriching and fulfilling, and she learned much about the world both from her mothers and from the others who partook in communally parenting her. however, an ekujae curse finally caught up with taro's elven mother. a leukodaemon, monster and harbinger of plague and disease, had been following the caravan for years. it wasn't revealed to taro until later that that was the true reason her elven mother left her home. she was cursed to always run, or this monster would catch up with her and end her happy life.

when the leukodaemon came, no one but taro survived. the violent event would stick with taro for the rest of his life. he ran, ran north, taking note that this daemon was following him to resolve unfinished business. taro was only 11 at the time. he remembered a relative; an estranged auntie (sister of his elven mother) who lived in southern avistan around taldor.

and so, he travelled by boat, then by caravan, then by wagon, in a rush to outrun the monster trailing him. he'd finally reached his destination in taldor, reuniting with his kin, only to find that a noblewoman had taken claim of his poor auntie and made her into an indentured servant. taro and their auntie butted heads quite a bit, but an ekujae is always loyal to family. she requested that taro be allowed room and board in exchange for working for this noblewoman, but in turn, the favor would extend their auntie's fees owed to this noblewoman.

a former crusader, ruthless, rich, and permanently injured by the demons, this noblewoman saw potential in taro and decided to recruit them as her assistant. she took them everywhere with her, and overtime they learned battle strategy secondhand by taking notes for their employer. she was not a kind woman, however, and did little to make taro feel like less of an outcast in a village where people knew so little of the mwangi expanse and their culture.

taro found solace in the gardens of the noblewoman's estate, often singing quietly and playing pretend with herself. these gardens were vast and untamed, and taro would get lost in them for hours. one day, she had the misfortune of stepping into a faery circle-- and it was then that the fey stole her name. no one in the village remembered her; not even her auntie. taro stole back into the gardens and adventured into the feywilds to relieve herself of this curse. she was just an adolescent!!! it would seem that her trek would turn into a myriad of riddles and puzzles; but her sharp mind carried her through and eventually taro even managed to charm her way into the favor of a small faery court. from this point, she developed a connection with the fey, and they even granted her her own animal companion; a trained battle-elk who she named moyobi.

when she'd returned to the mortal realm, she'd found that everyone within the village had fallen ill. each illness was different from the other-- some with the pox, some with colds, etc.

after having escaped the leukodaemon for so many years, she knew now that it had caught up and was toying with her life, with the people she cared about. many succumbed to illness and passed, including her very own aunt. so grief stricken, taro turned back to the gardens and hid there to wallow, and to die. it wasn't until desna reached out in taro's sleep with the song of elysium chiming in her ears that taro was pulled from the brink of death.

when she awoke, there was a bushel of berries-- and it was a faerie and servant of desna that told taro one berry could cure any disease. the catch was this-- there was only one berry for each surviving villager. and so, taro returned. they told the village of what they'd found-- and their employer demanded she be given rights to the bush as it was grown on her property. taro remained steadfast and stubborn. they would not let anyone touch the bush until every single villager had been cured, and eventually the whole village revolted against this noblewoman. soon, all the berries were gone and the village had recovered, but it wasn't long before taro found she was sick herself-- breast cancer. we're calling it elfwort. the village felt so indebted to her that they took great care of her. she had a mastectomy, underwent both magical and medicinal treatment, and recovered with desna's blessing.

unfortunately, the leukodaemon was still lurking behind, waiting to wreak more havoc, and taro had to say goodbye to her village. she'd heard rumors of a witch near sarkoris who had a proficiency in both handing out and removing serious curses, and so she travelled north. that was how she found herself there, in kenabres, and became the knight commander of the 5th crusade.

DEEP BREATH. ANYWAYS, SO MUCH BACKSTORY. AND IT'S STILL NOT EVEN FULLY FLESHED OUT. can you tell he's my brain guy. i love him so much. he follows the azata path, the guardians of a realm called elysium; i think truly, deep down, taro craves the freedom to stay in elysium. no other place they've encountered has felt like home as earnestly as elysium has. i'm still playing through wrath of the righteous, so we'll see where their story goes.

but as of right now, they're romancing both arueshalae, a desna-worshipping succubus looking to ascend from her demonic status, and daeran, a posh nobleman with a vety pretty smile.

ferne and i also have an au where their commander, luthais, chose the aeon path (with space and time travel) and created a universe in which, instead of him, he chose taro to take his place as the commander as they are nearly the exact opposite of him. he's... more lawful neutral/evil and taro is very chaotic good. she hates law and order, values goodness and sees the light in others. she loves unconditionally, and can be a bit reckless due to this. her love extends to the entirety of the army, and as someone who has never liked the military, she now views her own crusade as a large family.

regrettably, i don't have much art of taro but here is the full body ref i drew + game screenshots

[darubyprincx]

The CC's Responses to the MCYTBlr Sexyman Polls, Thread 4: This Is Getting Seriously Out Of Hand

welcome welcome welcome all and sundry to the fourth thread we've had to make on this topic, because folks, there is a LOT of material!

our name is Keys and we'll be your host for... the rest of this event, since nobody else is really doing anything else like this. since we're on thread four, i figured i might as well let y'all know what's going on here and a quick recap of what we've been covering, as well as some facts and questions that literally nobody has asked.

if you are anywhere in MCYTBlr and indeed in other fandoms here on Tumblr, there's a good chance you've heard about the MCYTBlr Sexyman Polls, which I've helpfully put in the title of this post so that people don't get confused! if you haven't, though, the polls themselves are hosted by the @mcytblrsexymen blog and are heavily inspired by Tumblr's own Sexyman Polls of 2022, but specifically for the MCYT fandom. they've been going on since Feb. 5th, 2023, or 6 days ago as of today, with the later polls often gaining upwards of 20,000 votes!

if you want to see all of the shenanigans and hijinks going on within the fandom (and subfandoms) itself here on tumblr, the best place to get a good luck at all of that is at the blog itself, which I linked above. fellow journalist @salemoleander has also whipped together some INCREDIBLE short videos going over the events and tragedies of this event since day 1, one of which I've been featured on myself!

this thread, and all threads before it, which if you're interested are linked to in my pinned post on my blog, are focused rather on the nominees' reactions and responses to this poll. i take screenshots on Twitter to post here, and also try and get stream clips to quote, although since I never watch streams this is a bit difficult for me. i also have done an interview with a nominee himself, and with one of the mods on the official blog itself!

FAQ

Q: Lots of nominees are campaigning really hard for themselves. Are you going to cover that? A: I have before, yes, but to keep things as unbiased as possible in the spirit of journalism I'm probably just going to drop that. Sorry Joe Hills.

Q: There's a lot of people submitting things as soon as they happen to the blog itself. If that's going on faster than you can cover it yourself, then what's the point of this? A: Well, this has always been something we've been doing for fun. I assume people follow the main account as well if they follow me for this, but they can get their news fresh from the spigot there. I'm just here to make funny jokes about it and vibe.

Q: I've seen you refer to yourself as "we" and "us" sometimes despite maintaining that you're just one person running the blog- what's up with that? A: That is not a typo! The person behind this blog (hello, that's me, I'm typing this) is plural, and in fact we are very casually open about it. We regularly switch between referring to ourself as "us" and "we." This is an advantage in several ways because not only can we accurately pull off the "over to you, Keys! over to you, Keys!" joke like, forever, it also provides some Headmate Enrichment™️ whenever someone wants to join in on the fun. Also plural people are just inherently cool and wouldn't you want to have a cool person bringing you news?

Q: Where's the Dominion coverage of this? A: We have made the executive decision to not include the Dominioners since they have single-handedly made our life hell and made up half of our second thread. No hard feelings.

And now to the actual reporting.

JoeHills and ZombieCleo have been spotted campaigning quite heavily for themselves over on Twitter, as per the norm the past few days!

Martyn has been spotted on his stream voting!

Quackity made a tweet yesterday evening saying he didn't know what he won but thanks anyways!

Also, this isn't exactly a nominee update nor an external one but shhh, the polls have gone live during the U.S.A Superbowl. This is hilarious to me because our father is a huge sportsball fan and this is like, gay person sportsball for the rest of Tumblr. Godspeed to the mods.

[twosides--samecoin]

Hello! If you're still taking questions for fanfic writer friday-- do you have any headcanons about little lamplight or MacCready's childhood?

Sorry for late reply I'll send you an ask back when I get a minute!! @vault-heck

RJ always wanted to go to Shenandoah National Park. He heard about it from the older kids and through merchants who would come trade with the Little Lamplighters. Sure, he might prefer a rocky ceiling now, after years of being gone, but once upon a time he was aching to get moving and see the world.

He didn't want that rocky ceiling for a time. I think your home/hometown as a kid can annoy you and make you feel like you wanna go run away to greener pastures and RJ felt those kinds of feelings especially as he hit his teen years and had ample time to dream about what he wanted his life to be. There was a period where he ached to sleep under the stars, to see these outlooks and views and endless forests. On occasion, the merchants would have a rare copy of a National Geographic and he loved poring over the images, learning what the world looked like. What the world used to look like before pre war folk bombed it to hell. When he heard about the Appalachian Trail.. All bets were off. He was gonna go do it. Some hikers build up to the Triple Crown trails over a lifetime interest of hiking, some people hear about it and say "I'm sold". This is def where I write RJ from my own experiences and interests when I was thinking of what RJ was like in his teen years. Luray Caverns - the place LL is based off of - is not terribly far from the closest side of Shenandoah. In chapter 1 I wrote that RJ and Lucy followed the Potomac to Harper's Ferry, VA. This is a hiker's Mecca as far as the AT was concerned. It just fell into place for me that the hikable proximity fit RJ's life situation once he left LL. It also makes one thing make sense IMO: We know him and Lucy had been to Boston before. How'd they do it? They hiked the AT.

Lol I'm so wordy I'm sorry I'm the worst

Other things

Angry ADHD child (you're projecting Indeed I am and I shall continue to do so) onions have layers and I think just beneath the dry outer skin, the next 2 layers for me personally as an ADHD person is basically a sort of irritability and cynicism, it has also been depression too. I can mask it better off medication. On meds that outer dry layer is like 99% ripped off and I have to remember to code switch for work and I don't always. So the way I write RJs thoughts and voice is like, the way I remember what I was like the last time I didn't have meds in my system when managing my exterior personality was easier

Really wanted a dog but most of them in the Wasteland were feral and also there was a good chance a dog would be viewed as food by someone else in LL. He always imagined that some dogs - the way they were painted in advertisements with white picket fences and a family - had to be friendly. He met Dogmeat and finally felt like he found one of those dogs in the ads

Before they left LL Lucy wanted to go to River City first and RJ BEGGED to go hike instead. They didn't see Megaton or Rivet City until the way back from Boston

RJ kept the tough mayor act up but he didn't really need to use authority with people who lived there during his tenure as mayor. If they had issues it was a family affair where everyone yelled about it until they felt done or half a resolution was decided on. Even messy fights among them was better than the kind of trouble mungos and brotherhood brought

"I'm so wordy I'M the worst" WRITES MORE

[stephy-gold]

4 am really?????

Unremarkable house. Sunday 4 am. Scully and Mulder where in bed when the phone rang, groggily Mulder answer. “Mulderr” (answer slurred more sleep than awake)

“Sorry for bother you sir but we have your son in the police station for drinking while driving and surpassing speed limits”

“HE WATH???????” Mulder shout rising from the bed. “Mulder WTF I’m sleeping” “what happened to William?” Scully asked rising from the bed. Mulder was all over the place getting dressed to pick up his irresponsible 16 years old son from the police station *two FBI parents and he behave like this, really amazing this kid* he thought. “MULDER WHERE IS WILLIAM?????” Scully asked from the bathroom getting herself ready for whatever happened. Mulder stood in front of her “Our son is at the police station…”. Scully “why? Did someone hurt him?? He’s been followed??”. Mulder massaging his knots formed by the stress “None of that; as i was saying…. He’s been detained for speed limit and driving drunk FOR GODS SAKE, but he’s fine on top of everything” Mulder was furious for various reasons 1st his son who’s supposedly was studying at his best friend house where actually drinking with who knows who and then taken to the station because he had the great idea of driving while being drunk; 2nd it’s 4 freaking in the morning on a Sunday *great timing kid*. Scully was obviously worried sick and also furious at her son for being so stupid

At the police department station. 5 am

“Hi we are looking for William Scully-Mulder, he’s our son” Scully tell the receptionist “oh yeah the drunk kid?”. “That’s right” Scully tone was increasingly angry while Mulder was more annoyed because of the hour (long gone where the days when they, he particularly, spent the whole night chasing leads, on steakes, discussing a case or, she, doing autopsies in the middle of the night with only a half bagel with fake cream cheese 🥯 in the stomach; they’re older now and obviously not the same) “can we see him?”. *Will escorted by an officer go to his parents, clearly less drunk, “fuck” he said under his breath*

“Since it’s the kid first strike and seeing that you two are FBI agents and to our understanding capable of manage the situation we won’t take your car Mrs. Mulder so you’ll just have to pay the ticket” the officer seemed tired and thank god for that. “Thank you officer we really appreciate it” Mulder took hold of his son and walk away to the parking lot to Mulder’s mid life crisis car while Scully took hers.

unremarkable house 6 am

“REALLY!!!!!!! WILLIAM SCULLY MULDER. What in hell where you thinking????” You could see the anger in Scully by her coloring; Will start to head to his room but Mulder block the stairs “None of that William”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever folks” William said slurring a little “I’m going to bed so you can save the speech “you are the son of FBI agents” for later along whit “we’re disappointed. Yadda yadda yadda. Night” he push Mulder a little and run to his room locking himself “NIGHT”

“I swear Scully one day he’ll give me a heart attack and it’s really not that far” sitting in the coach embracing “tomorrow we’ll talk to him and obviously he can forget about the parties, video games and obviously the car; okay Mulder?” “Yes honey, what do you think about getting out the stress?” “Im up for it”.

[seiyasabi]

Ripe For The Pickin’

(This is a Yandere Kita x Fem Reader Story! Hopefully y’all like this lmao, sorry if his hick accent is annoying lmao, I thought it gave him ¬flavour¬

Tw: !!noncon!, !misogyny!, breeding kink!, !Detailed postpartum depression!!!, !!!Mentions of attempted suicide and murder of a child!!!, !Mental illness!, !Defeatist attitude!, !Disassociation!,  housewife reader!, threats of physical harm!, manipulation!, mentions of kids!, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution! Note: Part of my family are farmers- my grandpa specifically, and he speaks very similarly to how I wrote Kita’s dialogue (the joking bit). He had a farm in Hawaii growing up, and he always jokes that he’s ‘but a country folk,’ so I mean no offense to those who own a farm. )

Throwing down his work cap on your kitchen table, Kita visibly brightens at your busy form. Your two year old son is balanced perfectly on your hip, your other hand stirring a pot of Udon. The steam rises around your head, slightly flushing your (skin colour) complection. 

Looking up, your eyes immediately meet the white haired male’s, causing you to freeze up momentarily. He sends you a warning look. 

“Welcome Home, Shinsuke,” A wobbly grin spreads across your painted features (just how Kita liked- he likes when you try to look good for him), catching the attention of your son immediately. 

“Daddy!” He practically hops out of your hold, rushing to the large male. Your unwanted husband scoops him up in his buff arms, swinging him around. 

“Whoa, one’a these days yer gonna throw yer Pa’s back out,” He grins happily at his carbon copy, smooching the small boy on his grey hair. 

The little one giggles cutely, basking in his father’s presence. You quickly approach Kita, hugging him from the side, and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, “We’ve missed you all day, My Love,” He always likes it when you’re sappy- it makes him feel wanted. 

At your words, he delivers a lingering kiss to your lip tint stained lips, your son half in your arms and half in your husband’s. You lightly pinch your babe’s cheek, causing him to giggle, before you kiss him on his forehead. Kita visibly brightens at your affectionate side, his open arm wrapping around your waist, “What’cha makin’ fer dinner, Pretty Lady?” 

You cringe internally, yet you can’t help the blush that forms on your pretty face, “Kazue wanted Udon- I hope that’s okay,” Shinsuke nods, a thoughtful look on his face. 

“‘O course,” He lightly pinches your son’s other cheek, “If our growin’ boy wants Udon, by God, he’ll get it.” 

-

Settling Kazue down in his bed, you give the sleeping boy a tender kiss on the forehead. As much as you hate Kita, you don’t have the heart to hate your son. He, like you, didn’t ask to be here, so you decided to be the best mom he could ever have. 

Smoothing his blanket over his lower body, you tuck the other bits under him, and lay his favourite stuffy next to him. Once done, you step away from the slumbering babe, and make your way out of his room. Kita is waiting in the night light lit hallway, leaning against the opposing wall. 

You jump slightly, not expecting him to be there. 

“Is something wrong, Shinsuke?” A practiced smile appears on your face, hands clasping behind your back to keep you grounded. 

He says nothing, motioning you to follow him, before turning and walking towards your shared bedroom. Shuffling after him, you try to still your rapidly beating heart. Did you do something wrong? 

Kita isn’t one to shy away from punishment. If anything, he revels in the momentary feeling of power-that is, until your broken body and mind are left in the aftermath. Then, he can’t help but feel horrible, because in some twisted way, the man truly loves you. So, he’ll try to cuddle and kiss his wrongs away, trying to forget that he’s the catalyst of all the things going wrong in your life. 

Burying those thoughts away, you step into the darkened room, noticing immediately that Kita is settled on his side of the bed. He’s stripping himself of his overshirt, exposing his wife-beater underneath, “Ya know, I think it’s time fer the boy ta have a brother.”

It feels as though the world around you is crumbling. Just when you gain a sense of normalcy, the bastard rips that away from you. 

Your smile visibly wavers, but you try to hold strong, “I-well, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Your hands are trembling, your heart practically being torn from your chest, “Kazue is still a toddler, I think it would be better if he was around five. Then, he can interact with-” Kita holds up a hand, halting your speech. 

“Yer gettin’ too technical fer the simple folk in tha room, Pretty Lady,” He stands to his feet, discarding his slippers, before slipping his baggy jeans off of his lower half, “Jus’ say yer too selfish to give yer lovin’, hardworkin’ husband tha things he deserves-” 

Kita knows that you had postpartum depression. He knows that you not only almost hurt yourself, but also your precious son. He knows that you had to be sedated at one point to even continue living. Yet, it seems like he doesn’t care. 

Tears fill your eyes, as you finally let your feelings become known, “That was horrible to say, Shinsuke. You know how hard it was for me-”

“It was also hard fer me too, ya’know,” He’s doing it again… trying to manipulate you into being the bad guy, “Seein’ ya go bonkers was hard ta’ watch. Plus, seein’ our son almost drown in tha tub-” 

“Stop it!” You finally lose your cool, surprising your usually collected kidnapper, “You don’t get to claim it was hard for you, when everything is your fault!” His mouth open and closes like a dying fish, unsure what to say, “If you waited for me to be ready to have children, I wouldn’t have spiraled out of control. If I was given the help I needed, I wouldn’t have gone psychotic. If you hadn’t stolen me away from my life and forced me to bend to your will, none of this would have happened!” By now, you’re a sobbing mess. He always does this. Kita always breaks you down until you seem crazy, but you’re not. You’re just tired of how he treats you like a baby maker, tired of how he treats you like nothing, yet claims you’re his entire world. 

But, when you hear him sigh softly to himself, you know that he doesn’t care about your feelings, “Do I need to use the gag? I thought we were above that.” 

Knowing that refusal won’t be tolerated or respected, you don’t bother wasting anymore of your breath. Slipping off your house slippers, you shuck off your dress, revealing your bare chest and panties. More tears slip down your face, as you lay down on your large shared bed. 

Shinsuke grins at your compliance, quickly moving between your legs, and stripping you of your drawers. His rough fingers rub at your clit and slit, “Good girl. ‘Ya know yer man jus’ wants what’s good fer ya, an’ a baby is good fer any good woman.” 

You ignore him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Kita continues to rub against your clit, trying to coax an orgasm out of you. But, you don’t give him the satisfaction. 

Staring at the ceiling, you let your mind go. Your dissociated body reacts well to his ministrations, your arousal coating your thighs, as they tremble in lieu of an orgasm. 

His fingers dig in deep, as they force your pussy open. Feeling how relaxed you are, he decides that you’re loose enough to go right in. 

Pulling out his thick cock, he bumps the head against your slick cunny, “Don’ worry, Darlin’, yer man will take good care of ya,” He slides in with relative ease, your hips bumping against his.  

The normal constricting feeling in your chest has long since faded, instead, the feeling of acceptance at the fact that you couldn’t get out of this replaced it. 

Your body jolts and rolls with Kita’s harsh thrusts, his panting warm against your neck, “Yer so good fer me, (Your Name), yer gonna bear me healthy sons,” The gummy walls of your pussy knead his cock thoroughly, trying to milk him for everything he’s got, “I knew you were perfect fer the takin’.” 

He forces your knees next to your head, the head of his cock bashing into your cervix painfully. Fortunately, that was enough to set your body off. A gush of cum drenches the both of you, as Kita slams himself inside of you entirely, allowing your womb to be filled to the brim with his fertile cum. 

“Ya never disappoint, Darlin’,” He smooches you on your lax lips, ignoring the fact that your head is practically empty, “Maybe you’ll have twins this time.” 

With that, he starts his hardcore pace one more. 

But, you can’t bring yourself to care. As long as you can drift away from the events unfolding in front of you, 

[goblinshork]

Ok so what abaut Bodyguard and Agony whith a a naga prince that just hates the royal life and dreams of just having a simple life living in a cottage and selling homemade jewelry, so Reader his childhood best friend, personal bodyguard and person who he feel in love whith decides to make his dream come true (bonus if the prince has a sister so the kingdown whont stay whiout a ruler and she helps Reader whith the plan, bonus+ if the prince is kinda huge and scary to other people but he is just a chill dude that likes to make rings and necklaces)

Short scenario please! (Also sorry if its too long, feel free to just ignore this if you whant)

Not too long at all and I think it's an extremely charming idea! Thank you for sharing; big gruff, undercover sweeties are one of the most Choice(tm) archetypes.

This also got super long, but the vibes were singing to me.

Features: Slight angst, happy ending, kissing

Bodyguard + Agony (Monster Ask Meme)

Hands, Touching Hands (m!Naga x gn!Reader) [3.7k]

“Don’t lie, how many names do you remember?”

Alok yawned, curved fangs peaking out from almost-lips.

“None, thankfully,” he said, scratching at his curls, cut short enough that they barely formed.

“Impressive.”

“Oh—no, you won’t distract me. You agree with me don’t you?”

The book Alok had toyed the entire briefing slammed shut, the many bracelets at his wrist clinking for emphasis when you did not answer.

Watching him unfurl his tense length of tail, broad shoulders rising far above you as he 'stood', there was little to say but, "It’s not my place."

"Then it’s not mine, either."

He slunk toward the door and you picked up the book--the monstrous thing--with your arms rather than your hands before following him.

"Just give it time," you said in a reassurance that was too shallow to drown his mood.

Every move forward looked painful as he slithered forward like a child first learning to move against stone rather than soft grass. Unlike when he was a child, he was stilted by frustration rather than inexperience.

The conversation was left dropped, burning like the weight of the tome in your arms. If you were alone, you'd tell him to carry it. But servants, nobles, and royals passed frequently, all low bows and murmurs, moving on a touch quicker than polite.

When you first arrived to the kingdom, a slave dressed sweetly and presented as a gift, you'd marveled at how anyone could find the royal family intimidating when removed from their wealth and status.

Baby yellow skin and soft pink dapples painted everyone of them. Alok, himself, was more pink than yellow, and it reminded you of those delicate, painted dolls you'd press your face against glass to get a closer look at before being shooed away by the shop-keep.

You supposed little had changed since then, except now you were simply stared at, expected to keep your fingers off the pretty pink glass always, always in front of you.

The hallway Alok stopped moving forward in was empty, private; his. Without a word, you tossed the horrible book toward his crossed arms and swept the windows, floors, and ceiling for anything strange. His fumbling for the book, fingers audibly skimming against pages, made you smile.

"It's clear," you nodded. "Workshop, right?"

Alok deflated a bit, too caught between the mention of his workshop and pretending to have perfectly caught the book to keep his anger stoked.

"You're asking now," he said flat, looking from the book to you.

Putting up your hands in mock defeat, you turned, alert enough.

@

"I'm not angry at you.” The slits that served for his pupils, deep red and small in their focus on the gem he was cutting, turned to you when you said nothing in response.

“Sorry, I--” was dazzled by your eyes? Was enamored by how passionate you are for perfecting that sparkling little gem? “I know.”

“I just wanted to say it.”

You stretched from your place beside the door, perched on one of the few chairs at your disposal in the entire castle, “Thank you.”

“Don’t be patronizing,” Alok grumbled, pausing in his work. “I know...I know very well you must be tired of this, even if you won’t say it.”

The window was suddenly so interesting, your throat burning as you swallowed down the feeling kindling there.

“This is my home,” you said after hearing the scales of his tail shift closer. “There’s nothing to be tired of.”

Slowly, his hand rose to hover over yours, where it lay on your lap, “But you should be. I’d give you anything you needed. They couldn’t stop me.”

Everything you wanted to say was tucked in the patch of air that separated his touch from yours.

Any person, bought and raised to be singularly loyal would hesitate at the offer of freedom, wouldn’t they?

They’d want to grab his hand, wouldn’t they?

You could only guess as a love for a prince was not something to be said aloud unless you were allowed.

And you, a slave turned body guard, were not.

Standing, you scattered the almost-moment with a shake of your head, “I don’t care about freedom half as much as you think I do.”

His hand fell limp to his side, the slits that served as his nose flaring wide, as you continued.

“I’m your bodyguard and I’ll be your children’s bodyguard and I’ll be the same to whoever you choose from that book,” you finished, thoroughly shooing yourself away, wanting so much to run out the door.

Alok said your name quietly, but you remained silent.

And everything was still until it wasn’t.

In one smooth motion propelled by his sheer size, Alok stretched to the book and hurled it out the open window.

“No, you won’t. I’ll be their prince,” he said low, body suddenly too large for the room. “But I won’t be their king.”

You did run, then.

@

Perhaps the only place off-limits for a would-be king allergic to potential suitors was his sister’s drawing room.

Adur payed you no attention as she demanded entertainment from the brightly colored darlings and dark patterned beauties of the upper echelon.

“Did you know, I simply adore the pattern of your bangles lately,” she cooed, pointing to a decorated tail. “So perfectly in style.”

She continued on, picking this and that to sigh over, as you stood against the corner that provided the best view of the room, next to the door. 

You recognized each piece she fawned over as being similar to something Alok had on display or nearly-done in his workshop. Ah, to know a magician’s tricks.

Melting into a squat, you let their voices wash over you. No heart could hurt for long listening to women enjoy court gossip as much as this bunch did...from a distance.

When you, Alok, and Adur were younger, the rules seemed less stone and more like blades of grass, flexible and beneath you. Adur set you in front of her always revolving group of friends and tried to fit tail bangles around your thighs and waist. Alok insisted you sit side-by-side while studying geography, arithmetic, and etiquette. You lay between them on sunny afternoons, napping, legs touching tails.

But everything golden goes grey eventually.

“Well, do tell me. Did he throw it in the fire?”

You turned from the window, swapping red, setting sun for sharp, red eyes, “Out of the window.”

The room was empty but for you and her now. Adur pacing around, tail making quick work of circling the room as she read from her collection of letters.

“Still the amount of melodrama I expected so,” she shrugged, raising shoulders toward her pleased mouth as a silent finish to her sentence. “I, on the other hand, did pick.”

You rose, legs tingling from the sudden change. “Who?”

“Prince Talsa,” she said after cutting open a letter with her claw, “I’ve already decided on a short engagement and a respectable wedding down south. Perhaps closer to his kingdom than ours.”

“Talsa? Not rare one who everyone’s after?”

Adur looked at you as though you should know better before deigning to explain, “Prince Talsa is rather plain looking for a naga, yes, but that’s just the point.”

“Go on,” you said, wanting so much to be distracted.

“Think about it,” Adur scoffed. “Rare, beautiful babies create wonder amongst people, but children who look as though they could be born anywhere....don’t you see the appeal?”

She leaned against the window, long black hair obscuring her pink and yellow face, “They would be royalty that even the most common of folk could feel familiar to--feel endeared to. Even someone as devoid of charm or pretense as Alok could gain some favor. From their birth, I’ll have them attend every little festival and celebration. Their bond with the people will be unshakable.”

“You’ll make the best queen,” you said, unthinking to the implication.

“Has something happened to Alok?”

“No, you ju--”

Adur turned to you, delicate face empty, “It doesn’t matter what we know. He’s the eldest and alive and destroying a book won’t change that.”

Your hands shook as you laced them together, risking at least your life, by asking:

“What if we could change it?”

@

Everything in the little room lacked splendor, save the jewelry that her brother displayed to no one but himself, built only to separate Alok from his mentor. A failed attempt to elevate a man too gargantuan to grow further.

Even the flooring was rough on the tail, not smooth stone but brick for retaining heat. Only care for function within these four walls.

Adur noted her brother’s tail was bare as she swept over the lacking room, only his leather work belt draped over the apex where tail met torso. Every bit of jewelry he wore crowded his wrists and fingers, noisy as he worked on some large bangle unfamiliar to her.

He looked haggard, frown too ugly and deep to be a mere product of concentration. Grey tickled the roots of his bangs, pronounced enough to shine in the lamplight. Alok was getting too old to be a prince with only time for his hobby.

“Sometimes I think it would be kinder to simply put you out of your misery,” Adur said, closing the door behind her.

Alok’s back tensed, but he did not pause his work, “I’m surprised you said it out loud, but don’t say it like a joke.”

“Don’t be so serious,” Adur sighed, “of course it was a joke.”

“Where is--”

“Your human delight? Running errands for me.”

Alok did turn then, face flickering through emotions too fast to name, “They’re just as much your dear friend as mine, you little viper.”

“Forgive my callousness, but I find you respond to little else,” Adur said, picking at the sheer fabric of her top so it draped correctly against her arm again. “And perhaps they are my friend. But they are not just yours.”

“I won’t be king...even if they weren’t here.”

Adur laughed in a sizzling tone, forked tongue dancing with humor, “Oh? And I suppose your little fantasies of running away involve you doing so alone?”

Only the flames licking back and forth in the small forge answered her.

“You’re too old to be deluding yourself like this,” she went on, dropping a bottle and a sheer robe on Alok’s work desk. “It’s time to make choices once and for all, brother.”

“I’m not--”

“I’m not asking you to rule. You’d be pathetic at it, yes, I know. If not for our dear human friend, you’d have flunked every tutor save for your precious jewelry maker.”

Alok curled back over his tail, fingers picking at the fabric of the robe his sister had dropped. “Then what are you asking?”

Hand on the doorknob, Adur smiled, “if you had your way and left to live like a common man with your human, would you really never come back?”

“Never.”

Adur opened the door. “Good.”

@

The drider--Woodnet? Woodne? Wodner?--stayed near the the door as you did, but unlike you his sleek, black legs rested on a few thin lines of webbing where wall met ceiling.

Slowly, Alok raised his face to address the bodyguard, entirely unused to being the short one. Worse still was the struggle to match sights with the correct pair of the drider’s many blinking eyes. If you were here, you’d have nudged him to follow your lead already.

If you were here...this wouldn’t be happening in the first place. Just another wishful thought to swallow down as Alok struggled to stay polite in the face of his father’s prime bodyguard.

“Outside the room is fine,” Alok said in a clipped tone, turning as he did to avoid dealing with anymore niceties.

“Forgive me for questioning, Prince Alok,” the drider said, voice drifting down like floating silk. “But bathing is when you are most vulnerable. I can not help but object to the risk.”

The drider polished each word, in no hurry to finish his sentence and Alok’s eyes rolled once--twice--thrice by the time there was silence. If only this were any guard other than his father’s favorite.

“I understand,” Alok said. “But, the windows are trapped and you will be guarding the only entrance.”

The sound of burdened legs skittering down stone, followed by the opening and closing of the lone, stone door was his answer.

Driders were generally no longer friends of Alok’s kingdom. Wodnel....no, Wodni perhaps, was a relic of a time long gone, when his father was just proving himself a leader of a nation. That Wodnir--that was it, Wodnir--was so protective of Alok, having sparsely been involved with him and having been enslaved through ruthless, warmongering means made Alok’s shoulders bunch, the muscles between protruding over scales.

Is that how it was between you and he? Did you feign fondness and care or was it true? Was it true but maligned of him to hope for it due to how you came to be near him? Because of he was?

Alok disrobed and slunk into the hot water, hoping to drown his pithy doubts that crowded so large in his mind.

Flakes of shed rose to the top the longer he soaked, proof of a difficult shed. There was sure to be more bits to come as he scrubbed himself with the, apparently, ‘to die for’ body scrub his sister had left last week.

You were usually the one to soothe his bubbling stress in a life of constant politics and decorum, but the bits of dead skin were proof enough that Alok truly was getting too old for delusions. You’d only been away for a week and a spare number of days and here he was, so tense that not even a hot bath could unfurl him.

Ugh.

Politics and decorum. How would he survive tonight without you? Adur was announcing her engagement tonight, in tandem with the nobles emerging from their collective sheds at the tail end of the Harvest Festival.

Alok scrubbed himself raw, hoping to emerge a new man who could weather life half as well as everyone around him. But the harder he lathed himself in soap, the clearer the truth rang.

If only he could have you.

@

You had relieved Wodnier of his duties, thanking him with a bow, and standing stiff beside the door for precious minutes, waiting for his delicate range of hearing to wane.

As an apprentice, you had met Wodnier often enough to know he wished you well as much as any spider did a fly.

Hammering against your chest, you feared the vibration of your heart was loud enough for him to hear. And there was always a chance the door shutting at the end of the curved hallway was a trap; that Wodnier still stood in Alok’s quarters and was not making his way back to the King.

But you didn’t have time to be safe, only quick.

Jittered by adrenaline, you sprinted to Alok’s room---toe first, heel last--and back, holding your breath once you made it back to the door of the bath.

Sweat pooled against your forehead, but nothing sprang toward you sans the faint sounds of Alok bathing.

You slipped past the door, the pack in your hands bulky enough that the door opened wider than you’d wanted, the hinge creaking.

“Alok?”

The figure behind the curtain froze before calling back your name.

“We don’t have much time, Alok,” you pressed in a sure voice, but your legs wobbled as you neared the curtain. “I’m....I’m running away and I’m taking you with me.”

“What?”

Coming past the curtain, your chest could barely contain your quick breathing. His hair was devoid of any gray, blacker than pitch as it fell just above his ear holes and forehead. Muddy brown and maroon scales were sleek and wet, droplets rolling down his body, even near his---

You looked back up quickly, away from where his belt always covered. “I mean, I want us to run away and we need to go now.”

Having followed your wandering gaze toward the apex of his stomach and tail, Alok frantically looked toward his arms, the muddy water, “What in the fuck is this?”

“Adur is helping us,” is all you said and it was all Alok seemed to need as he picked up the bottle the dye had been in, nodding. “She said it’ll only last until your next shed but, by then, hopefully....”

“She wants to be queen very much,” he murmured.

You tore open the pack, reminding yourself that time was short, and held them out. “Yes. So, we need to go.”

“You have no idea--,” Alok started, before interrupting himself. “I need something from the workshop.”

“We don’t have time.”

He shook his head as he took what you offered, dressing himself in plain leather and thick, scratchy wool. “It will be quick.”

You opened your mouth--- “Please.” --but couldn’t keep firm in the face of his pleading.

“Okay.”

@

Alok threw a few rings, bangles, and tools into the bag.

“Only enough to sell and get started again,” he assured.

But as you turned to leave the room, his hand was on your arm, pulling you back.

“We--”

“I love you,” he breathed, holding two thick, ornate bangles in his free hand. Both were decorated, from the side you could see, with marigolds, jewels gleaming in the center of their petals. You recognized each one.

One was the size to fit a large tail while the other...

“Alok.”

“I want us to leave belonging to one another.”

Your shaking hands dropped the large bag and his slid to hold both yours in his large one. “If we leave together, we’ll live together too won’t we?”

Even your head shook now, from side to side, hoping to discern the moment as waking or dreaming. “Alok. Of course, because...Of course we will.”

“Oh, please say it,” he said, tugging you nearer still.

He repeated your name and like a spell, you found your words, “We’ll live together because I love you, too.”

His thin mouth, soft and bloodless, fell to yours from his full height, his body curling over you as he pressed against your lips again.

“Let me put it on you,” he whispered, mouth moving against yours as you clung to him.

“Hurry and then we can....Just the bangles and then we must go before it’s too late.”

Careful of his claws, he lifted you to sit on his work table before slipping his own bangle over the small tip of his tail and up further, until it stuck in place under his belt.

There was no time to remove your pants, to mold the bangle against your bare thigh as was intended, but Alok’s thick hands skimming around the metal the entire way up burned as though he were doing just that.

You slid off the table, when the bangle was snug, to melt against him for one brief moment of loving calm, your face rubbing against his neck.

You didn’t have time for more.

After disentangling from his tight hold, you threw the bag at him, near tears as he scrambled to catch it. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m so glad you’re going to be mine instead of a king.”

And then you ran, hand in hand.

@

“Hey! Heeeeey,” one of the children yelled as the whole group of five ran toward you, kicking up dust on the dirt-packed road. “My momma said that snake man eats kids who don’t do chores!”

“My papa said he can’t help with the festival because he’s growing more arms!”

“That’s dumb, Brittany. My papa is smarter and he said the same thing as Corey’s momma. He’s a kid eater!”

The group shrieked in delighted horror as they squabbled on the specifics of what was really, truly going on in their village.

You hiked the basket in your arms higher after several attempts to respond, loudly telling them to pay attention or you’d leave.

As though pulled forward by strings, they straightened as still as a child could, a few even holding their hands over their mouths to keep silent.

“All of your parents are right,” you nodded, “Every two months he must curb his huge appetite and force back his new, child-grabbing arms so he doesn’t hurt the very naughty children of this village.”

They all clamored to stress their innocence in a cacophony of babbling that soon grew into questions.

“Is that why you live with him? ‘Cause you protect the village?”

“And him,” you said.

“At the same time?!”

“Of course, it’s my job. Now go back toward the smithy before you find out just how many arms he has.”

Lunging forward in jest was enough to urge the children away, all of them teasing the other that they would be last to get there and a snake man’s lunch.

@

“You’re horrible,” Alok groaned, scales pale pink and yellow from a successful shed. “Soon, they’ll be grown-ups, running us off.”

Hefting the basket onto the dining table, you laughed, “they adore you in secret.”

The cottages here were baked of mud, hay, and a few supportive beams of wood and yours was no different. There was no splendor in the room-less house, but it was truly yours and his. And that was luxury enough.

“They had enough this time?”

You shook the canteen of dye, moving to stand next to him on the low hammock that served as bed, “And the next shipment of birch will contain enough to last us three months or more.”

Alok smoothed his claw down your face, his own expression wistful, “I feel too content to explain.”

You pressed your nose against the pink of his jaw, letting him raise you to straddle him.

“Then show me.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 3 - Loki x Reader

Summary: You find shelter in the freezing lands of Jotunheim, and surprisingly some new allies. But Loki is already coming after you...

Warnings: Angst

Words: ~1500

A/N: Sorry, this one is a little short.

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist:  @hi-there-x @haloangel391 @misssilencewritewell @babayaga67 @accioremuslupinn @mochimommy2002 @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @damalseer @bethanystan @loser-alert @star017 @nina1800​ @queenariesofnarnia @n1fangirlsblog​

Only the anchestors keeping watch over you would know just how long you had been resting until your body was eventually able to move again.

As you looked around, you found several pairs of glowing red eyes observing every one of your moves, clashing with the otherwise darkness around you.

You bolted in an upright position, chest waving heavily as your breath was forming a cold mist. Much to your surprise, you were covered in warm furs.

“Worry not” one of them spoke, their body almost inseparable from the icy cave you apparently resided in. “We are a warrior tribe, not warmongers. What do we gain from killing a weak Asgardian noblewoman and their child?”

“Where is he?!” you choked on your own sob, only able to calm down when yet another giant handed the small bundle into your arms. 

They seemed to have cared for him while you were unable to, having fed and cleaned the small boy who was still impossible to distinguish from those powerful giants.

“What is his name?” A female of them seeked to know.

You stopped in your tracks at her question. Everything happened so fast, there was no time to think about it until now.

“His...his name is...L-Liam*. Liam Lokison.” The unintended alliteration made you smile. Yes, this was a formidable name for such a little fighter.

“Loki, you say?” A row, deep voice drang to your ears, huffing at hearing the name of your husband.

It is him again - Laufey.

Initially, you wanted to express your gratitude for his benevolent hospitality, but concluded it would be better to not interrupt.

“Loki, you say?” he repeated the name, tone laced with venom pumping through his heart. “That pathetic excuse of a Jotunn?”

What in hel did he just say?!

“No wonder that crossbreed of yours is so pathetically tiny.” Laufey would now eye his grandson with great fascination, even though adverse. “A disgrace, just like his father.”

“Wha- what in the realms are you...talking about?”

You took in a sharp breath,pulling the child deeper into your arms and away from his wary eyes.

The king could only laugh at your attempts, finding this farce absolutely amusing.

“Hilarious”, he scoffed, “I take from your reaction that Odin is still the old, pathological liar.”

The Allfather had expected you to die in this environment before you’d ever find out the truth, and even if not - Odin thought Laufey to be wildly ashamed of his son, and he would never admit that this freak was his child.

And that was where he was wrong.

“He still didn’t tell any of you?” The Jötunn thought back to that day of indescribable loss. First and foremost the war with Asgard and them taking away his power, together with the Cascet of Ancient Winters - and then...

“The man you call the God of Mischief was born on Jotunheim, as Laufeyson” he declared, and the following words made your heart clench dreadfully. “For whyever I deserved such misfortune, my firstborn came into this world as a failure.”

“Our world is harsh and unforgiving” Laufey continued and apparently, none of the folk seemed surprised. “It is an act of mercy to erase the weakest of our kind, since they wouldn’t survive either way.”

“Lies” you hissed - but the proof was right there, in your arms. “You are lying!”

However, deep inside, you already knew that his words were true.

Why?

Not minding the surrounding giants, you began crying from all the weight on your heart - mourning over the fate of your lover.

From his very first day, Loki Laufeyson was doomed. His only birthright was failure, exclusion and resentment, with death’s grip constantly at his throat.

“Then-” Connecting the dots, fear overcame your system. “Why did you help me?”

“Too much blood of Asgardians and Jotunns had been shed.”

Now that you thought of it, they had saved you - cared for Liam, even. Neither had they left you to die, nor tried to harm you or the child in any way.

Odin was really the greatest liar in all of history - for there were no monsters in Jotunnheim. Only a different race of people.

“I have stained my own hands in countless battles against your kind. But we are in dire need of peace, Y/N of Asgard. And your child could be the key.”

Anger began boiling inside of you, thoughts still revolving around how Loki had been lied to for all those years - and for what? Diplomacy? Using him like a tool, to control the Jötunn?

“Loki is Asgardian just as much as you are.” Somehow, the king almost sounded pained at the revelation. “He is unaware of his heritage, taught to despise us from childhood on. There is no way he would connect our two cultures with how much hatred he bears in his heart.”

At first, you felt close to passing out once again - the emotional exhaustion being way worse than what your body could take.

Those past two days were just too much for you: Liam’s birth, his genes, being cast out by your own people - and now, knowing that Loki had been lied to and used, even might be in danger at the hands of his own father?!

“So, you want me to...raise him here?” The thought alone made your insides churn, thinking back to your homeland. “I think I have to decline that generous offer.”

“No, not like that.” Laufey slowly approached both of you, wary to not touch your skin in any way. He signalized the want to touch his grandson, and you allowed it.

Of course, in a primal tribe like that, showing weakness was unforgiveable - especially if you were the king.

Yet you couldn’t really describe why, but somehow you knew that Laufey wasn’t as heartless as it appeared to be. Maybe, back then, he really thought his decision to be best - but now?

Everything you could decipher in his orbs as he touched Loki’s child was remorse, yearning and guilt. The loss of his firstborn was still present in his heart, aware that even though alive, they had grown apart from each other beyond repair.

“You need sunlight and warmth to survive.” Homesickness could also kill you, you knew that much. “We only ask of you for visits during his upbringing, so he can learn our ways and traditions. See both sides of the coin.”

A bridge between worlds, huh?

On the one hand, it was a huge responsibility you would burden on your child - yet you knew that at least learning about his heritage was his birthright.

Never you would allow yourself to dwell on comfortable lies like Odin, just because you didn’t want to be condemned for the past!

You would save Loki, as well as ensure this wonderful child’s future!

“Laufey, my king and inlaw, so it shall be. This child is now part of your tribe, as much as it is Asgardian.”

_____

[Several weeks later]

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Laufey looked down on the Asgardian prince, standing in front of the gates of the Jotunn village.

“I demand on seeing my wife, you dull creatures!” Loki materialized a dagger, threatening to throw it right into the Jötunn’s eye. “Whatever you’ve done to her, I will repay a thousand times!”

Unimpressed, Laufey spoke “I see Odin has taught you his manners. Violent, hotheaded and selfish. No wonder she did not stay with you.”

“I ask you this one last time: Where. Is. Y/N?!”

Without any second thought, the God of Mischief had left in secret, facing the giants all alone without help of his brother or soldiers.

Because your husband was devastated beyond relief.

Without you at his side, the half-god had completely lost his way. All this time since he thought you dead, nothing could save Loki from his own mind.

For weeks, he wouldn’t leave his chambers, sitting in the dark for hour after hour without nourishing his body in the slightest.

He was haunted by how your belongings reminded him of those blissful days of your marriage. Your scent was still present on those now empty bedsheets, fogging his mind and keeping him from much-needed sleep.

The only matter he busied himself with aside from screaming and crying until his throat went sore, were the thoughts of what could be:

Knowing himself responsible for your imminent demise was eating him alive - even if that child wasn’t his, if only he didn’t rush things and would’ve let some time pass, to become clear-headed again as he was now.

Would Loki be able to forgive you and live on, overcome this hardships like so many before?

Most certainly! Because he needed you at his side, more than anything else.

Loki Odinson couldn’t live without the light of his life.

And if there was even the slightest chance of you still being alive, he would claim what was his and start anew.

“Loki, your eyes are wide open, and yet you don’t seem to see the full picture.”

When Laufey refused to descend to the entrance, Loki would immediately teleport himself towards the giant, blade aiming at his throat. “You will answer to your crimes, monster!”

The king was able to repel the attack by grabbing the god’s wrist - yet instead of the incoming pain Loki was expecting, merely his clothing froze into crumbles...

...and his limb turned in a shade of dark blue.

“You’ve grown strong, my son.”

_______

*Liam is a irish name, meaning “strong-willed warrior” or “protector”.

[carmensbroom]

I've once again had 6 hours to process everything I saw in season 4 so I'm just gonna say my thoughts on it (hold onto your fedoras again folks)

first off, WE FOUND OUT GRAY'S LAST NAME?? I was so shocked and happy at the same time I love how everyone asked for player's real name and we ended up with gray's surname for some reason shsjsj. NOBODY ASKED FOR THAT BUT THEY DELIVERED ANYWAY

ALSO GRAHAM IS AN ORPHAN?? my precious boy *throws mommy's boy headcanon out the window*

the second episode really had me shipping carmivy they're so cute we got a girl's trip and I'm all for it

I think I may now be a dash haber stan but let's not make a big thing of it

also ivy eating the chocolate in the middle of a mission deserves an honorable mention because of her cute little tongue (I'm weird okay djsjsjs)

zack trying to bond with shadowsan and him having none of it was delightful

that fucking robot god damn bellum really thought of everything didn't she every time I thought it was gone it made a come back I literally said out loud "carmen is so fucked"

I SWEAR TO GOD EVERY TIME GRAY TALKED ABOUT CARMEN I KEPT THINKING HE WAS GONNA SAY "BECAUSE I LOVE HER" IN WHICH CASE I WOULD HAVE DIED AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY

yall have no idea how relieved I was when I found out that photo of julia was her and her (presumably) mother and NOT a boyfriend sjsjsjs

catch me making a headcanon that julia has a single mom because her father disowned her for coming out as gay based on that picture alone 😭

I'M SORRY BUT THE AMOUNT OF FLIRTING BETWEEN CARMEN AND JULES?? PLEASE THEY'RE SECRET GIRLFRIENDS JUST ADMIT YOU CENSORED THEM AND GO

OKAY BUT WHEN THEY WERE IN JULIA'S OFFICE AND CARMEN SAID "WAY TO FOLLOW YOUR HEART JULES" AND SHE WAS LIKE "YOU REMEMBERED" I LOST IT WHAT DID CARMEN REMEMBER JULES?? DID THEY HAVE A CONVERSATION OFF SCREEN? MAYBE I'M JUST A BIG HUGE LESBIAN BUT THAT'S A BIT GAY LADIES

carmen getting all worried when julia wasn't answering her phone was the blessed gay content I signed up for PLEASE THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO MUCH

never thought I'd say this but I loved devineaux this season he was funny, he improved his treatment towards julia (I don't recall him officially apologising I must have missed something djsjsjs)

the only thing I didn't like was it kinda seemed like they were trying to hint that chase and jules were into each other and I didn't really vibe with that

all that shit with dr bellum and the crown for cleo really had me thinking cleobellum was gonna be canon what a clown I am (seriously tho the way she lost it when the crown got stolen GIVE IT BACK IT BELONGS TO HER WIFE)

look all I'm saying is: tigress new outfit in the egypt episode was hot

HER FACE AT THE END AFTER SHE GOT TRAPPED WITH ALL THOSE BUGS

I wish julia and gray could have met there's so much friendship potential there 😭

is player... is he a bit 💅 I SEE THAT PRIDE STICKER ON YOUR LAPTOP YOUNG MAN YOU'RE NOT SUBTLE

ngl I nearly teared up when player finally met carmen in person

I'M SORRY BUT JULIA'S BLUSH IN EPISODE 7 PLEASE SHE'S SO SMITTEN WITH CARMEN IT'S BRILLIANT

EVIL CARMEN WAS REALLY SOMETHING ELSE I WAS SO SCARED SHE'D BE STUCK LIKE THAT FOREVER

I mentioned this in another post but when julia was like "don't you remember me? I'm your girlfriend friend, jules" I NEARLY FUCKING CRIED THEY WERE GETTING KINDA CLOSE AND THEN CARMEN GOT MIND WIPED

JULIA TOPS JULIA TOPS I SAID IT ALL ALONG AND IT'S TRUE SHE REALLY PINNED VILE CARMEN THAT'S TOP BEHAVIOR (also this now makes carmen a bottom I don't make the rules)

kinda shocked that paper star was hardly here I don't stan her so it didn't bother me much but still it was just strange they didn't use her this season

when shadowsan whipped out the last doll and carmen had all those flashbacks to when she was at vile I nearly started crying AGAIN

I LEGIT THOUGHT CARMEN HAD KILLED GRAY DJSJSJS AN ELECTRICIAN GETTING ELECTROCUTED THAT'S SOME IRONY RIGHT THERE

gray really confused me towards the end he kept switching sides every five minutes for the whole season I wasn't sure whether to trust him half the time dhshsjs

THE LOOK ON CARMEN'S FACE WHEN SHE THOUGHT SHE'D KILLED GRAY WAS SO HEARTBREAKING AND THEN SHE STARTED CRYING OH MY GOD I'M SORRY BABY

the way she's always been against hurting people/taking lives and then she ended up hurting all the people she loves (she nearly killed zack for god sake) really hit me hard

gray's ending was... kinda weird I understood the parallel of him not wanting to complicate carmen's life like she said about him in season 2 but it was still kinda strange that they didn't have one more conversation or get any closure

I'm obviously kinda upset that carulia wasn't canon they had so much potential imo and the show isn't about romance anyway BUT I'm happy with the content we got and THEY FLIRTED SO MUCH THEY'RE CANON IN MY HEART

THE TEAM RED GROUP HUG KILLED ME IT WAS SO CUTE

kinda annoyed that carmen just straight up left zack and ivy she really just left a note and said YEET

ivy's voice crack when she read the note got me all choked up

ngl I'm still not entirely sure how it ended I had to rewatch it a few times to understand what they were trying to imply sjsjsj

would have loved to know carmen's given name but at the same time she's literally THE carmen sandiego that's who she is, it would be silly to go by a name that she doesn't connect with just because her parents gave her it

her mom being a regular citizen was kinda bittersweet I mean a plot twist would have been good but at the same time it would make the story even more complicated

*dreams of a spinoff movie where we get better closure on everything*

ACME IVY ACME IVY I'M NOT AN IVY STAN BUT DAMN IF I AIN'T SIMPING FOR ACME IVY

I know carmen didn't want revenge but I feel like chief got let off with killing her father way too quickly if I'm honest sjsjsj

JULIA BEING IN CHARGE OF FINDING CARMEN'S MOM OH MY GOSH

I feel so bad for laughing when julia got knocked out the way the cloth fell on her head sent me but when the pole hit her head I was like "OKAY I TAKE IT BACK THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE"

was not expecting julia to physically fight anyone I mean she's always been so calm and collected and then this season she was like fuck it might as well hit a few people before we finish forever

wishing carmen and jules could have hugged or had a scene together where they talked about stockholm but I won't complain it wouldn't have really made sense anyway considering they were cool with each other at the university

so glad the trailer was misleading about the coach brunt situation I really didn't want her to get a last minute redemption

another honorable mention: cleo snapping at julia "DON'T YOU DARE IMPLY THAT I AM COMMON" sent me djdjs she was just stood there like "I am but a humble history lesbian leave me be"

I think that's everything I'll probably add to it later if I think of anything or I might make a part 2 djsjsjs (I've been writing this for almost an hour now 😭)

overall I enjoyed it from start to finish. I haven't really cried about it ending yet I'm still processing everything but I'll probably have a little sob when it finally hits me djsjsjs

CARULIA NATION WE BASICALLY WON NOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I REWATCH ALL THEIR SCENES TOGETHER AND MAKE IT MY ENTIRE PERSONALITY

[violetlilysunshine]

Late Night

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: You meet Chris working in a bar, before he invites you to his house after closing.

WC: 3,525

Warnings: maybe a quick make out?? idk if I need to warn that, but better safe then sorry. Fluff, fluff, fluff 

A/N: I’m sort of feeling a part two, because I’ve been in such a fluffy turned smutty mood recently. Anyone down?? Lemme Know :)

Tagging the lovelies that wanted this! @maximeevansblog @saltyflowermakertaco

MASTERLIST

You’ve been working in this small bar for years now; it mainly catered to older folks, the owners having fallen in love with the 40s and 50s and themed their bar after that. You quickly fell in love with the decades as well, hearing the old music and seeing all of the older people’s faces light up, reliving their glory years. However, usually, there were a couple younger groups there to relish in the theme a bit.

You started as a waitress at 18, trying to work your way through college. Quickly, you moved up to bartender, before one slow night when you randomly decided to sing along to one of the songs that the Thursday night live band always played. They were a pretty good group, and you soon found yourself listening to the songs they played in your free time. After you sang with them, the owners decided to add you to the regular Thursday night entertainment, still bartending on other nights.

You were nearing the end of your set, just two more songs to go before you could take off the heels you had ridiculously decided to wear tonight. They were very 50s and you loved the look, but, carelessly, you hadn’t broken them in yet. You thought you would be fine, but your typical little dance during Fly Me to the Moon had suffered greatly. However, they matched your midi-navy-polka-dot dress and your pin-up style curls, so it wasn’t a total loss.

“Alright everybody, we’re getting close to that time of the night,” you hummed into the microphone, “for this next one we’re gonna slow things down a bit. To those of you I’ve been watching sit in your chairs all night, you’ve only got two more chances to ask your ladies to dance. Even if you don’t know how, ask her anyway, she'll love it.” you joked.

The band started to play Paul Anka’s Put Your Head on My Shoulder, a personal favorite of yours.

“And remember, if anyone needs a partner, I’m ready and willing,” you joked as the intro played. Quite a few times, older men who no longer had a partner took you for a spin for a song or two and you loved it.

You hummed a bit before you started singing along.

As you were singing, you watched a few of the younger guys in the back finally bring their girls out on the floor. Smiling as you watched them, you swayed back and forth.

You kept going with the song, almost at the end, glad that someone hadn’t asked you to dance, because your feet were really killing you.

You finally finished it off, earning a small applause as you twirled with the mic.

“Alright y’all, last song of the night and you know what that means as well,” you spoke to the crowd, “last call for alcohol,” you sang out.

You pointed back at the bar, and your friend who was tending tonight, before she waved at the group. A few people left the dance floor to get a drink as you continued your end of the night spiel, “fellas still sitting by themselves, last chance to take a spin on the floor. I see you still sitting there in the back! It’s a short song, I promise,” you chastised the last table you saw still sitting there.

Two couples from that table got up to dance, leaving one man sitting by himself. You felt kind of bad for turning everyone’s attention to him, but you had offered earlier to dance if anyone needed a partner, so the ball was in his court.

You signaled to the band to start up and spoke, “alright here we go,” into the mic.

It’s Been a Long, Long Time kicked off, and you instantly swayed. The band didn’t usually play this song, but after your Marvel obsession kicked in, you convinced them to add it to the set list.

You sang away, loving life, but your eyes didn’t leave the man in the back. He was obscured by shadows - probably purposefully - but you felt drawn to him already. Something about him sent tingles down your spine.

Before you knew it, the song was over. You took a small bow before turning and pointing at your band, getting the audience to applaud them individually.

“Thanks everybody, have a good night and drive safe. Hope to see you next week!” you spoke quickly and everyone filed off the dance floor to collect their things.

“Thanks, you guys, that was a good show!” you spoke to the band before you rolled up your mic cord and packed it away backstage. As soon as it was safely in its case, you took a seat on one of the saxophone cases and started rubbing your feet.

Soon, the band came back to put their instruments away and you reluctantly gave up your seat. You headed to the bar to sit with your friend while she finished cleaning up; this gave you a chance to rest your feet a little more before attempting to maneuver yourself home.

You glanced around the room quickly and everyone had cleared out except the back table. They were all standing, putting on jackets, and just beginning to file out the door. The couples went first hand-in-hand, followed by the single man. You looked back at your friend and began to make small talk about the next night, seeing as you were off, before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“That was a great set,” the man spoke out in a low raspy voice, “I wish I had a dance partner.”

“Thank you, but if I remember correctly, I did offer to dance with anyone. Anyone included you, Chris,” you quipped back lightly, chuckling.

“Well, doll, the way you were stumbling about up there, I didn’t want to risk it,” he joked back, “and you know who I am?”

“I’m gonna head in the back to finish cleaning up and then we can go,” your friend spoke, gently tapping your forearm. You usually carpool to work because you live a few houses down from each other and it just makes sense.

“Alright, sounds good,” you answered her before turning back to Chris, “well I did just sing Steve and Peggy’s song. I wouldn’t be doing it justice if I didn’t know at least its major history. And I don’t think I was stumbling.”

“Okay, fair,” he answered, “maybe stumbling wasn’t the right word, but I can tell your feet hurt in those shoes.”

A small silence settled between the two of you as you got lost in his eyes, barely registering what he had said. His lips curled into a small smile as he gazed back. His eyes darted from yours to your lips for only the slightest second, before wandering down to your feet, which you were rolling slightly on the leg of the barstool, attempting to massage them a little. He looked back into your eyes again, his smile growing. The tension in the room rose quickly, and you began to get a little hot under his gaze. You were wondering how you ever got so lucky to have Chris freaking Evans looking at you like that.

“I’d offer to get you a drink, but you did say last call a little while ago,” he spoke slowly.

“That I did,” you answered, “maybe next time.”

“Or, I could take you somewhere else,” he offered lightly, his voice raising in pitch.

“Hmm, I don’t know if my feet are up for it,” you said softly, “and I don’t know where else we would go on a Thursday night. Everyone is probably announcing their own last call.” You were surprised by your own confidence in front of him. You had no idea how you were keeping it together, let alone flirting.

“Another option,” he suggested, “I could offer you a nightcap at my place. Or maybe coffee? A glass of wine?”

“Eager there are we?” you quipped.

“Well, what can I say, that last song did it for me,” he chuckled, “but really, it would be totally casual, no expectations.”

You thought for a moment, weighing the options. He probably wasn’t a murderer, or a kidnapper. He was probably one of the gentlest guys you could go home with, and lord knows you’ve taken a few risks with others.

“Totally casual doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Really?” he asked, “great! Do you have a car here?”

“No, we carpool,” you said, gesturing at your friend who had just walked back into the room.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Actually I was going to head out with Chris,” you said, looking at him while you spoke.

“Oh, okay,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “well, I’ll lock up the front and we can head out the back together then.”

“Great,” Chris answered, his eyes never leaving you.

You slipped your shoes back on and stepped down from your stool. You grabbed your purse from next to you and turned to grab your jacket, which was no longer on the back of your chair. You looked up and saw Chris holding it open for you and you slipped your arms in, your heart swooning wildly. You smiled at each other and followed your friend out the back.

You hugged her quickly, whispering “I’ll send you my location,” in her ear. After all, a girl can’t be too careful.

You followed Chris to his car around the front of the building, where he opened the door for you before jogging around to the driver’s side.

His car was nice, as to be expected, but not flashy and you enjoyed his modesty. It smelled freshly cleaned - a big plus - but also rode incredibly smoothly. You were more than content to drive around with him, listening to pop songs and belting out musicals, but before you knew it, he was pulling into his driveway.

He got out first, stepping out quickly. You waited half a second, sending your location to your friend quickly. As you were reaching for the door handle, it was being pulled from the outside. Always a gentleman, he is.

Chris flashed you a charming smile as you stepped out, swinging your purse over your shoulder.

“This way, darlin’,” he spoke lowly, shutting the car door. His hand was quick to find a home on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the front door.

Once up the stairs, he crossed in front of you, unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open. The alarm on the wall chirped, signaling the opening of the front door. Chris quickly bent down with his hands in front of his knees, preparing for the impact. Dodger came flying around the corner having heard the chirp, and slammed right into his dad’s hands before jumping onto his dad’s legs begging for pets.

“Hey bubba, how you doin’?” Chris spoke to his best friend, rubbing his ears, “this here is Y/N, be nice to her buddy, no jumping.”

Dodger quickly took notice of you and immediately tried to jump onto your legs, a greeting you weren’t necessarily against, but since Chris said no, you quickly pushed your hand down and met him on the ground. He sat at your feet, immediately accepting your presence.

“He never does that!” Chris spoke, shocked at how quickly Dodger took to you.

“What can I say? I must be magic,” you joked and shrugged at him, making him laugh.

“Well let’s move out of the doorway, yeah?” Chris asked before closing the front door behind you.

Chris moved to the side of the hallway quickly; he kicked off his shoes and encouraged you to do the same. You happily followed suit, aching to get those damn heels off again. You sighed in contentment once your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, throwing your head back slightly, closing your eyes, and breathing deeply.

“That bad, huh?” Chris chuckled, waiting for you at the end of the hall.

“Oh yeah, I definitely have to get used to those before I try to wear them again,” you answered back.

“Well, follow me and we’ll figure out that drink I offered.”

You set your purse on the bench next to your shoes before following him into the kitchen. He strolled around the island, resting his forearms on the island.

“Take a seat, doll,” he encouraged you, gesturing to the barstools on the other side.

Usually you wouldn’t have obliged so quickly, offering to help him make whatever, but given the state of your feet, you hopped up quickly.

“Alright, so you have a lot of options, water as always, coffee, beer - my personal favorite - tequila, a slew of other liquor, juice, soda, milk, - which would be weird but whatever - wine, take your pick,” he said smiling at you.

“Coffee sounds good to me, to be honest,” you answered quietly. You would’ve chosen beer simply because it was his favorite, but you weren’t a big fan if you’re being honest.

“Coffee it is, gorgeous,” he answered, filling the pot with water and loading in the grounds, “milk, creamer, sugar, black? What do you like?”

“Milk and sugar would be good.”

“You sure? I’ve got peppermint creamer,” he coaxed you.

“On second thought...” you chuckled, taking him up on his offer.

“Alright, doll, peppermint it is,” he laughed.

Soon the coffee was ready and as excited to try the peppermint creamer as you were, you could’ve watched him flutter around the kitchen for days. He handed you a sleek navy blue mug, taking a red one himself.

“Shall we head to the living room?”

“Whatever you want, it’s your house,” you laughed.

“Alright, follow me,” he said, leading the way, “you too, Dodge,” he called over the island. Dodger had been sitting at his feet the whole time, watching his dad.

He settled into one arm of the couch, pulling the coffee table closer to rest your mugs on. He placed his mug down and gestured for you to join him. You sat on the other end of the sofa, gently, looking over at him. He threw an arm over the back of the couch, kicked his feet out in front of him, and turned his body towards yours. Dodger watched you sit down and looked at you, almost saying “you’re in my spot,” before turning around and going over to his bed by the fireplace.

“How’re your feet doing now?” he asked you.

“They’re okay, it may take a few days to recover,” you laughed back, turning to face him as well. You held your mug in one hand, bringing the other to your foot as you swung your legs up at your side.

Chris reached over towards your feet, pulling them into his lap, “here let me,” he spoke.

You blushed lightly at the very domestic action, but who would say no to a beautiful man rubbing their feet? He massaged them gently and you let out a little groan.

“You really don’t have to do that, but you’re so good at it I don’t want you to stop,” you told him.

“Well then I won’t stop, darlin’.”

He looked at you from across the couch, making your heart swoon again. You let out the quietest moan, enjoying the work of his hands, and closed your eyes.

Chris laughed lightly, whispering something to himself under his breath. You were a little lost in the moment, so you didn’t hear him.

“Sorry, what was that?” you asked him.

“Oh, nothing, just talking to myself,” he answered. You knew that wasn’t the case, but let it rest anyway; it couldn’t have been too important.

Chris started asking you about your work and friends and family, what kind of movies you liked, and music preference of course. You asked him as well, really getting to know each other. He had stopped rubbing your feet a long time ago, but kept them in his lap, an arm thrown across them, rubbing your shins and ankles lightly. Dodger was snoring loudly across the room, and had been for quite a long time. The both of you were so lost in the conversation, that you didn’t realize how late it had gotten. You glanced out the window behind him, beginning to see the sunrise.

“Oh my goodness, what time is it?” you asked him, chuckling.

He glanced at his phone quickly, “almost 5:00,” he said with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said a little embarrassed, “I’ve stayed way too long, I’ll just get out of your hair.” You began to pull your legs out of his lap, but he locked them down.

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” he spoke quietly, “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome…” you trailed off.

“Positive, sweetheart. Please, stay.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. He nodded slightly at you. “Then I'll stay,” you said, settling back into the couch.

“Can I get you another cup?” he asked, gesturing to your mug.

“Sure,” you answered lightly, handing it to him. He got up and trailed into the kitchen. You waited half a second before following him.

Chris heard you walk into the kitchen, turning around to look at you quickly, “sorry, can I get you something else?”

“No, I’m fine,” you answered.

“Oh, well, uh… I would’ve brought your mug back to you,” he chuckled.

“Oh that’s okay, I felt weird just sitting there,” you laughed lightly.

“Oh, okay,” he chuckled back, “well, since you’re here now, can I offer you breakfast?”

You didn’t realize how hungry you’d gotten until he offered, “only if I can help,” you responded.

“Oh well, that’s a deal breaker, darlin’,” he answered, almost seductively.

“Well then no breakfast for me,” you laughed.

He was starving too, only having had a small dinner before he went to the bar last night. He didn’t know when you’d eaten last, so you must be hungry as well.

“Well, maybe there is one way, you can help,” he said in a high pitched voice.

“What can I do?” you asked quickly.

“Come here,” he said.

You walked around the island you had been leaning on, joining him between it and the cabinets on the wall. Chris extended a hand towards you. You took it quickly and allowed him to guide you closer to him. Once you were fully in front of him, he dropped your hand and grabbed both of your hips. He picked you up quickly, surprising you, before setting you on the counter.

You laughed lightly at him, “okay, now what?”

“Now, you sit there and look pretty while I make breakfast,” he chuckled out, standing between your knees, keeping a little distance between the two of you.

“Chrissssss,” you whine out at him.

“What, doll?” he asks, taking a step closer to you as you wrap your hands around his shoulders.

“I can do more than just sit here.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, taking another step towards you, now standing between your thighs, almost flush to the counter.

“Yeah, I can,” you breathe out, barely able to contain yourself now that he’s slotted between your legs.

“Nope, darlin’, this is enough help. Promise,” he says quietly.

Chris glanced down at your lips quickly before looking back into your eyes. He ran his hands up your thighs, starting at your knees, before settling onto your hips again. The temperature in the room seemed to rise at an unbelievable rate as you stared into each others’ eyes. You could feel his breath on your lips, you were sure he could feel yours as well, the smell of coffee and peppermint radiated between you. He slowly leaned in and connected your lips.

It was like time stood still. He moved one of his hands around to your lower back, pulling your body to the very edge of the counter and flush against his chest. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, digging in just a little. You wrapped your arms around his neck even tighter as you molded your lips together. He licked your bottom lip slightly, asking for entrance, which you granted. He explored your mouth just a little bit before pulling back, breathless, and resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, that was, uh…” he spoke.

“Yeah,” you answered, breathless as well.

You held his gaze for another second before moving forward and kissing him once again. You pecked him sweetly, before mumbling against his lips.

“I’ll let you cook, as long as you let me clean up,” you laughed a little before connecting your lips again.

Chris let the kiss hang just a little longer than a peck before pulling back completely. He pecked your forehead quickly, before answering.

“No,” he said firmly, turning around and letting out a loud laugh, one you knew so well.

You laughed right back at him, watching him start to cook and shaking your head to yourself. How did you get so lucky?

[imherongraystairstrash]

I know you write about relationships in TLH and TID that are rarely/seldom touched on in the books or extras, but I wanted to know if you would consider a Christopher and Thomas Lightwood fic. Maybe the first time they are both in the lab and Thomas experiences the first of the many explosions which Kit unintentionally created. You could follow it up with another scene: Thomas pointing out to Christopher what had led up to the explosion (a misidentified component or measurement).

Of course! I absolutely adore the Lightwood cousins! I put a tiny bit of all of them in this fic, but it's mostly focused of Thomas and Kit :)

Thomas and Kit:

Thomas’ sisters have been giggling for what felt like days. Not only giggling, but they kept pestering him, asking about what men fancied the most in women.

Oh, Tommy, do men like shorter hair or longer hair?

Do men prefer a woman who speaks softly or says what’s on her mind?

Thomas would always say the same thing: I don’t know.

Because, really, he didn’t. He’d never thought of women in that way, though the angel knew he’d tried. He simply couldn’t. His mind told him to like one thing, but his heart said otherwise. It was frustrating. And very confusing.

“Why can’t you just be yourselves?” Thomas said. “Who cares what the men think?”

They giggled again, which made Thomas furrow his eyebrows.

“Don’t you understand, Tom? You have to lure them in by attracting their attention, and then, once you have them wrapped around your finger—”

“Then, you can show your true colors.” Barbara finished.

“That’s a terrible idea.” Thomas said. “You’re just wasting your time.”

They both shook their heads in perfect synchronization.

“He’s too young.” Eugenia said.

“And innocent.” Barbara replied.

Thomas rolled his eyes as they giggled again, and began discussing possible bachelors.

Thomas could only tolerate two minutes before he felt suffocated and stood up, frustrated.

“Wait, we still need you.” Eugenia said.

“Where are you going, Tommy?” Barbara asked.

“Out.” He snapped, taking his coat from the hanger and tugging it on. He let the door close behind him, ignoring his urge to slam it, and quickly made his way down the steps of his house.

The cold air bit into his skin and made its way to his neck and down his back. He silently cursed his sisters for making him leave in such a rush that he forgot to take his scarf.

Thomas walked down the streets of London, letting movement cool his head.

He was tired of the world. Angry at it. The way his sisters embraced it and tried their very best to be a part of it. The way it would force him to live his life differently, with someone he could never truly love.

He wished it would disappear, leave him alone, and yet it was always there, floating over his head like a shadow.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and briskly crossed the street.

Most days, Thomas missed Idris; walking barefoot through the forest and simply being outside in the clean, rich air. In Idris, if he wanted to be alone, he could. He could lay on the grass and fill his lungs with it’s wonderful scent, or climb a tree and hum melodies of his own creation. Of course, he liked the fact that in London, he could be with his friends, but there are some things even friends can’t quite help with. His friends could calm his mind the way the soft breeze that ruffled his hair or singing of birds could.

Thomas didn’t realize where he was going until he was standing in front of his Aunt and Uncle’s house.

He knocked on the door, and when nobody answered, he shrugged and opened it.

He made his way through the house, poking his head in certain rooms, trying to find one of the residents. It was usually quiet today. He looked into the parlor and found Cecily with her back to him. She was swaying back and forth, her hair falling from it’s bun.

“Hello, Aunt Cecy.” Thomas said.

Cecily turned, and smiled when she saw him. Her eyes had bags under them, as she and Uncle Gabriel were very tired these days, the reason for which was soundly snoozing in Cecily’s arms. Thomas’ new baby cousin, Alexander (whom Kit had informed Thomas was very loud) apparently has lungs of steel. Cecily had said she looked like a raccoon these days, but Thomas thought she still looked as pretty as always. “Oh, hello Thomas. Have you come to see Christopher?” She asked, rearranging Alex’s blanket.

Thomas nodded, “is he here?”

“In his room. He’s been awfully quiet today.” She said, simply. Then she furrowed her eyebrows, as if realizing what she’d just said.

“Do make sure he's not partaking in something foolish while you’re there, Thomas, would you?”

“Yes, Aunt.” Thomas said, making his way up the stairs.

He hadn’t wanted to come any closer to his baby cousin, for fear that he’d wake him, and Aunt Cecy would have to put him to sleep again.

Thomas waved at Uncle Gabriel as he passed him in the study, as he walked down the hall. Gabriel waved back half-heartedly, as if the life had been sucked out of him.

When Thomas opened the door to Christopher’s room, he found him bent over the table in his room.

“You’re going to hurt your back if you stand like that.” Thomas said as a way of greeting.

His cousin looked up immediately.

“Shut the door,” he hissed.

Surprised and confused, Thomas did so, and Kit straightened.

“What ho! How wonderful that you are here, Tom. I was working on something fascinating.”

“Is it related to science in any way, because last time you tried something like it, you blew up one of Henry’s walls.”

“That was because I made a simple mistake.” Kit said, with a wave of his hand. “This time it’s different.”

Thomas wasn’t very convinced. He noted Kit’s askew cravat, his tousled hair, his glasses that sat crooked on his nose and his wide-eyed gaze and concluded that his cousin has officially lost his head.

“Why did you look like I’d committed the largest sin on the planet when I left the door open?” Thomas said, deciding to change the subject.

Kit scowled. “Alexander.”

Thomas blinked. “You’ll have to be a little bit more specific than that.”

“Any small amount of noise and Alexander will cry for hours.” Christopher said, scrawling something on a paper. “At least this way I don’t have to hear the racket so much.”

“Oh,” Thomas said.

“I don’t know why Mum and Dad even wanted another baby. They’re demonic creatures.”

“I thought you liked Alex.”

“When he didn’t cry so much.” Kit said, rather darkly.

Thomas had never seen his cousin so…gothic? Not only was he strangely gothic, but he has also thrown himself into science experiments, which didn’t settle well with Thomas. It was as if he were a mad scientist and Thomas, who’d read Frankenstein, didn’t think those two words were ever a good combination.

He cast an uneasy glance at Kit, who was biting his bottom lip as he combined two solutions.

“Kit, what are you even trying to accomplish?”

“Oh, erm, actually, I don’t know. I’m just observing what will happen if you combine— Oh, that’s not good,” Kit said.

“What’s not good?” Thomas asked, just as a large explosion answered the question for him.

“What the Hell was that?!” They heard Gabriel’s frantic voice call from the hall, just as Alexander began wailing and Cecily let out a noise that started out as frustration, then became something halfway between confusion and worry. Christopher, covered in soot, simply stared, dumbfounded, at the place where the vial had once been.

“Erm…” Thomas said, unsure of how to answer the question his uncle asked.

Not that it mattered, as Gabriel burst into the room a few seconds later. Much like his son, he blinked and just stared at the explosion site for the moment it took Cecily to come inside with a red faced Alexander in her arms. The latter was rubbing at his puffy eyes with his small fists, clearly not happy to have been woken up from his nap in such a way.

“Christopher Gideon Gabriel Lightwood, what in the name of Raziel have you done?” Cecily said, not hysterically, like most parents might ask, but more so weary, as though she wasn’t entirely surprised by the fact that there was an explosion in her residence on a Sunday morning.

Kit shrugged, still staring at the explosion site.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Thomas said, “but are these chemicals toxic? Shouldn’t we be evacuating?”

And for the first time in Thomas’ life, he saw his Uncle Gabriel and Aunt Cecily exchange a wide-eyed expression before Cecily ordered them all out of the room and briskly led them down the hallway.

She knocked on Anna’s door as they passed it. “Cariad, make haste, we’re evacuating the house.”

“Why?” Anna asked in a bored and strangely breathless voice, as if she were dancing.

“Your brother caused an explosion. Did you really not hear it?” Gabriel said.

“Oh, that’s what that was?”

“Yes, now come outside before you start glowing in the dark from the toxic fumes.” Cecily said firmly.

Anna groaned. “Alright. Let me get dre— I mean, I’ll be right down.”

Cecily sighed and continued down the hall.

…

Thomas waited outside with the Lightwoods, Anna climbing out of her window a short while later, not bothering to straighten her simple dress as she landed. If either Gabriel and Cecily were by any means surprised by Anna’s exit, neither remarked upon it. Nor did they mind that Anna was barefoot or that her wavy hair was unbound, waving in the wind like an ebony banner.

Gabriel and Cecily were simple folk, in that sense. They didn’t waste time trying to make their children conform to society, they just let them roam free.

Well, except for now, as they were scolding Kit, Cecily forbade him from any sort of experimentation within their house. They may differ from parents in many ways, but they were still parents, regardless.

Anna slumped down beside Thomas, watching the house.

“Another day, another dollar in the Lightwood residence.” Anna said mournfully.

Thomas just stared blankly ahead.

“One of these days, Tom, I’m going to get my own flat.”

Thomas nodded.

“And you can have my room here.” Anna said.

Thomas snorted. “Your room is pink. Very pink.”

Anna pressed her lips together. “Believe me, I’m aware.”

When Kit was done being scolded, he came over to them. Anna patted the grass next to where she was sitting and Kit plopped down beside her.

“How angry are they?” Anna asked.

Kit just frowned.

“At least they’re not disappointed.” Anna said, ruffling his hair.

Kit just pressed his lips together, identical to the way his sister had done shortly before. Anna and Kit looked very alike, despite their coloring. They always denied it, of course, just as Thomas always denies it when others say that he looks like his sisters.

“Well, you two are a dull bunch.” Anna said, getting up. “If neither of you are going to talk, I might as well leave.”

They watched her go to her father, most likely making a joke as she walked and despite everything that happened, Gabriel chuckled.

Kit scooted closer to Thomas, who put a hand on his cousin’s back.

“Maybe next time, you should study the chemicals better.” Thomas said, “see how they react to other chemicals. I don’t think spontaneity is something scientists encourage.”

Kit looked up.

“And maybe don’t do it in your room?” Thomas said.

Christopher nodded.

Thomas looked straight ahead, and they sat in a comfortable silence.

“Do you really hate Alex?” Thomas asked after a while.

“Not really.” Kit said. “He is just vexing sometimes.”

Thomas huffed a laugh. “I feel the same about Genia and Babs sometimes, if that makes you feel better.”

“I still like Alex, though.”

Thomas hummed. “Yes, I still love my sisters too.”

Thomas leaned back on his hands and closed his eyes. He may not be in Idris, but at least he still had his family. He may be different and the rest of the world might shun him, but at least his parents would still love him.

At least he was alive, and though sometimes it wasn’t always perfect, life was still good.

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet  @atla-lok143  @rinadragomir  @youngreckless  @autumnangel20  @julemmaes  @cupcakesandkittens  @no-scones-allowed  @fictionally-fantastic  @stxr-thxif  @writeforjordelia  @itsdaughterofthemoon  @jordeliasupremacy  @cordelia-cardale  @will-effing-herondale  @axoloteca  @heronstairs2014  @ilovemanicures @ti-bae-rius @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @readersconfessions812 @nightshade3465

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Also, if you want to be removed, send me a dm! I won’t be offended in the slightest :) Oh, and if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded lol).