#also yes my V sometimes has black eyes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: bro, Idk how I start at point A and get to fucking outer space. Also happy bday to Steverino.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gardens of Astra Castle are unlike any you’ve seen before. Certainly, you’ve never been to a royal castle previously. Your father’s own hold is modest, still bearing the wooden foundation, whereas the rich lords have poured mortar and built in stone. 

So, it is a great honour to be among the noble women chosen to serve the queen. Most unexpected. As a daughter of a lower house, it is rather unusual, but it comes with the newly set writ tabled at the end of the uprising. That is how your father tells it anyhow. 

King Steven is as newly crowned as he is newlywed. After a lengthy revolt against the previous king, the land has settled, and upon his victory, the new ruler promises the expansion of prosperity to all. The very precedence of his war rested on the greed of the former court and its covetous lords. 

To those who took up his mantle, he has made good his word. To the commoners, he has sent bread and ale, livestock and alms; to the nobles, he has granted titles and lands. You were of the same doubt as your father, however, you expected to be forgotten in the disarray. 

Yet, you were not. You’re there with several other ladies. A set of blond twins borne of a duke and duchess, the sole heir of a widowed countess, and several earl’s daughters such as yourself. Unlike them, you do not wear satin or silk, not muslin either. You have only the dyed linen your mother attempted to enhance with some embroidery around the cuffs and collar. 

“Marcia and Marigold,” the twins introduce themselves as you cluster together in the gardens, grooms and servants bustling around carriages and chests. “Lady Calliope,” they call out the countess’ daughter, “we met prior, yes? Your mother is near Estrela.” 

“She is,” Calliope answers in her stern manner, herself seeming a widow in her black dress. The shimmery fabric makes up for its single tone. 

“Ameri, Dorida, and... Selene,” they point to the other girls, themselves clothed in scarlet, rose, and azure respectively. “We know the earls, your fathers. They gathered at our father’s hold for the battle near Caffre.” 

The twins take turns speak so that sometimes you cannot track whose lips are moving. It is even that they trade off in the middle of sentences. You find yourself almost as lost by their words as your new surroundings. 

“And you...” The twins turn their jade eyes upon you. It is there you have found the only difference in them; they have the same heights, the same hair, the same gowns even, but there is a sliver of grey through Marcia’s green iris. “We haven’t figured who you are.” 

“My father is an earl. In Woodsdam.” 

“Woodsdam,” they echo in unison and share a look. They are perplexed. 

“A minor house,” Calliope provides. “a farmer more than a noble, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“We have vast lands and we tend to them, yes,” you assure. You expect their condescension. Your father warned you for it but he bid that you keep your chin up. The king has given him a mission of his own and so you will represent the family for the time. “We keep our people well and we fed the king’s troops when they marched." 

“Mm, sounds very... common,” Marigold grins and her sister snorts into her hand. 

“We know many lords like us, yes. They work hard amidst their vassals. It keeps the lands strong so that we may better serve the crown,” you return evenly.  

Your mother helped you prepare. She coached you to keep your manners and your spine. The latter is much more difficult as you face these ladies and their bobbles with only a ribbon in your hair and a pair of patched gloves. 

“Woodsdam? I think I rode through it once on the way to my grandfather’s summer castle,” Ameri tuts, “it was little more than a swamp.” 

“It must’ve been the spring rains, perhaps, lady,” you offer. 

“Summer house,” she enunciates, “one travels there in the summer.” 

Your cheek twitches at her barbed retort. Very well. You are not used to their sharpness. Their chittering has thus far centered on gossip and the cost of their new caps. 

“A wonder the pauper’s daughter received an invite. Are you certain you can read, lady?” Dorida snipes and looks to the twins for approval. You notice how they all tend to do so. 

“It was sent to my father, Lord Eldon,” your voice quavers. You are not so strong as your mother bid you to be.  

They cackle at your meek response, “the precious maiden of Woodsdam.” 

You put your head down as the activity all around threatens to swallow you up. You wish the ground would rent and you would fall right through. All your excitement has dissipated to a sludge in your veins. You touch your cheek as you try not to show your embarrassment. 

“The Lord of Woodsdam,” a deep voice startles you as boots approach from behind, “is that what I heard?” 

You stiffen up as the ladies before you hush and blink, almost in tandem. They curtsey as their faces wash over in shock and you turn to face the newcomer. A man in a deep blue vest over black sleeves and grey breeches. He wears belt of gold and a circlet across his brow in a similar hue. It is that which betrays his statues. 

You lower your eyes and mimic the other women, mortified to be faced with new king so informally. You would not think him wandering out in the yard. Still, he has vowed to be unlike the former leige. That he would be of the people. 

“King Steven, your majesty,” the others titter in a messy chant and you murmur your own propriety as you back away. You find yourself still to the shoulder of the king as the other ladies give no room for you to join. 

The vision of him stains your mind. He is tall, with dark blond tresses that extend past his neck, and blue eyes which put his own attire to shame. He has a jaw which looks etched in stone and a bearing which matches his rank. He is tall and broad and a finely built knight. 

“It is an honour,” Marcia says most boldly. 

“You may rise,” he allows in a breezy timbre. “I did hear my wife would receive new ladies. Young ladies.” 

“Your majesty,” the murmur rolls across each lip. 

“It is much needed. We have so many established ladies at court and yet we need to think of the future. Of the next generation,” he declares as he emphasizes his words with his large hand. You watch his garnet ring to keep from so brazenly looking him in the face. 

“Certainly, your majesty,” Marcia and Marigold chime in unision. 

“And don’t worry for there are many young lords as well,” the king laughs galely at the quip which makes the ladies, yourself included, blush. “Ah, then, Woodsdam I believe we were speaking of...” 

You blink and glance at the other ladies. They are cowed, unsure if they were overheard in their derision. You hope as much as they that they were not. It is rather unflattering. 

“My father, Lord Eldon,” you explain, “your majesty.” 

“You? You are the young lady of Woodsdam I heard so much of.” 

“You did? Er, your majesty,” you curtsey apologetically; unnecessarily. 

“Certainly, I did. Your father was a great assistance in me holding counsel with the lower lords. He is very patient. “When not about his duty, he spoke of you oft. Though what matters are more important than family?” 

“Yes, your majesty,” you can’t help a smile, “my father is a very kind man.” 

“Kind and courageous. I’m certain you’ve inherited as much,” the king praises, “and these other ladies. The twins who belong to Mawsley, the Countess of Clovers daughter, and the three earls daughters from the White Plains.” 

The ladies each bow their heads as he proclaims them by their forebearers’ titles. You watch from aside, feeling even more out-of-place. The king recites them all proudly as he extends a finger for each. 

“Allow me myself to extend a welcome to Astra. When you are sorted, my wife shall receive you all and have you acquainted with the grounds. I hope you enjoy them, we’ve had the gardeners at work day and night,” he pronounces, “for now, I must be off, for a king has many obligations and not so much time.” 

He bows and turns on his heel, marching off with his shoulder straight and head high. He walks as a soldier does, not some lord. You’ve seen the difference before, more recently in the aftermath of battle. A soldier is more akin to a farmer, much as your father, whereas a Lord tends to keep his steps tight. 

“Wow, oh my,” Dorida fans herself, “he is rather handsome.” 

“Oh yes,” Marcia and Marigold say, the latter forging ahead, “we met him at our father’s castle. He is ever so charming.” 

“Hm, and the queen would love to hear it, I’m certain,” Calliope intones brusquely. 

“The queen is not here,” Ameri sneers, “so what does it matter? Besides, is it so wrong to state a truth?” 

“He is very elegant,” Selene agrees. 

“Much too kind, as well,” Marigold snips, “Woodsdam? He speaks as if it more than some paltry farmhouse.” 

“You’d never even heard of it,” Calliope remarks. 

“And how had you, hm? You seem the bookish type. Perhaps you should leave the maps to the men. What good will a river or road do for a widow’s welp?” 

“Needn’t be cruel,” Calliope rebuffs. 

“Pity if this is the lot they send,” Marcia shakes her head as the sisters share another cryptic look. 

You keep to yourself. That is all you can do. It is better to watch and learn than to leap and land wherever you might. Your mother always said so and she was your best teacher. 

“Right, there must be some maid who might show us to our rooms,” Marigold stands on her toes and waves at each passing servant. “I tire of the sunlight and boorish company.” 

👑

You have two trunks awaiting you in your chambers. Not as the other ladies who had at least a dozen each. Less humble than your lunger are the rooms themselves.

There is an antechamber hung with tapestries showing wildlife and flora, a table set for two and cushioned bench by the window. The bedroom is draped in similar hangings with a four-post bed and a grand hearth. A desk, another bench, a woven carpet, and fine accouterments on square tables. And a closet for the commode as well and a pot in the far corner of the bedchamber. 

If only your mother and father could see this. They would be just as amazed. You can’t help but admire all of it. To touch the curtains as you approach the window and stare off at the afternoon sky. The gardens are a medley of hues; petals and thorns; leaves and dirt. It’s all so wonderful, you can still hardly believe it. 

Seems those other ladies can’t either. You can’t help but think of their words anon. They said so outrightly what you doubted inwardly. You don’t belong here. It must be so clear to them. 

You lean on the ledge and peer down into the garden pathways. It is almost a labyrinth with how intricately they’ve laid out the hedges. You lower yourself down to your elbows and cross your arms as you sigh. 

Your eyes are drawn from the swaying roses to the dark speck that appears below. You squint at first. From the second floor, it is harder to discern. It is the glimmer of gold in his hair and the defined gait that gives away the king. For an instant, you believe you might be dreaming. 

He walks along one path and to the next. There is another with him. A man with darker hair and a stauncher figure. They speak and stop just as they enter a circled walkway centered by a large vase of flowers. The other man talks, though you can hear neither, and the king rubs his chin. 

You should turn away. They might think you an eavesdropper. Oh, too late! You don’t dare move as the king tilts his head. You wouldn’t want to pique his attention. You cannot tell if he has spotted you. Not until he raises a hand and waves. The other man stops and looks to follow the gesture. 

You stand up straight but before you can flee in horror, you recall yourself. It is improper to turn your back to the king. You lift your hand and return the wave. He dips his head and turns to clap his companion’s shoulder, pointing him onward. 

Oh, you hope he is not unhappy. If you pray, perhaps he will not have recognised you. You needn’t an enemy of the king as well. 

[footballfanficwriter]

Prise giving ceremony

Summary:Jude and the reader are invited for their children's prize giving Ceremony

"Jude c'mon we're gonna be late" I say

"Yeah, I'm coming" he says, he takes my hand and we make it out the front door

"I've already spoken to mum she says they'll meet us there, cause they need to get a few things before the Ceremony starts" He says

"Are your parents going to be there?"

"I don't know honestly, but it would be really Nice if they showed up, it would mean so much to the kids if they did"

"Hey don't worry, even if they don't show up, I'm sure it will still be fun"

"Yeah"

" how many awards do you think the kids will get?"

"I don't know, besides, I don't care I'll be proud of them either way"

"Yeah, me too, But you know how they are, they always want to be top achievers in everything they do"

"I think they get that from the both of us to be honest"

"I don't always strive to be a top achiever"

"Yes you do Jude"

"How?"

"What about that time after one of your matches and you didn't play the way you wanted to, were you not having a fit?"

"I did not"

"Babe you did"

"Well you're also like that"

"Oh I already know I strive to be a top achiever, I'm not going to deny who i am"

"Whatever" he says rolling his eyes

"But I'm sure the genes didn't spread to our kids, right?"

"Yeah, no that is a lie, our children are so competitive it worries me sometimes"

"You're overreacting"

"Oh, am I?"

"Yeah you are"

"Remember that time when Julian, lost his football game and he got so upset he wouldn't even eat his dinner?, or what about the time Julia didn't get first prize for her 1200m run, and she nearly fought the girl who did, need I go on?"

"Alright you've made your point"

"Thank you"

We arrive at the school and Jude parks the car, he walks out of the car and comes around my side to open my door

"Thank you"

"It's a pleasure babe"

"You actually look beautiful in that outfit you know"

"Really, you like it?"

"I love it"

Jude has a black turtleneck on, with a suit Jacket, black slacks and dress shoes and a silver Rolex watch, while I have on a black dress that reaches just past my knees, with a criss cross back and a slight low V cut in the front, matched with a pair of black heels a gold necklace, gold earrings and my wedding ring

As we enter the venue we see people taking pictures, no dought that these pictures will be on the internet by the time the ceremony is over

When we enter the venue we find Denise,Mark and Jobe sat in the second row behind all the teachers and principals, we make our way to where they are sitting and greet them

"Mom we're here" Jude says

They turn their heads towards us and stand up

"Hi Darling, you alright" Denise says greeting me and coming in for a hug

"Yeah mom, I'm alright"

"Aren't you proud"

"Very proud"

Mark taps my shoulder getting my attention

"Hey" he says coming in for a hug

"Hi dad, how've you been?"

"I'm alright"

I greet Jobe and give him a brotherly hug while he daps Jude up

We all take our seats with me sandwiched in between Jude and Denise and Mark sitting next to Denise and Jobe

The MC starts the program and the school choir sings the school song, after that the MC starts her opening speech

"Good evening everyone, we're so grateful for your presence here tonight, thank you for coming to celebrate the children who have undoubtably worked hard to achieve these achievements, without further ado let's get started, I would like to call on Mrs. Clinton to come and present the awards"

Mrs. Clinton walks onto the stage and greets everyone

"Good evening everyone, I am here in front of you all to present the special awards to the children, the first award is awarded to the most creative student, Jessica James"

Everyone claps for Jessica as she walks onto the stage to get her award

"Why does she walk like that" Jude asks

"Don't Judge other people's kids Jude"

"Next, this award is for the most kindest and caring student who always puts other's needs before their own, this award is awarded to Ronald Johnson"

People clap for Ronald and  he collects his award

"Those are some big glasses he's got on" he says as he fists his hands making a hole in between each hand and putting each fisted hand on each eye

"Jude, stop" I say tying to hold my laugh in

"Next this award is for the most improved student, who has improved either academically or Socially, having had a hard start when they first arrived in the school and to adapting the school's culture, this award is given to Melissa Hall"

Melissa collects her award and we all clap for her

"Now lastly this award is a prestigious one and is a shared by two students, this award is for the most ambitious and Hardworking students, Julia and Julian Bellingham"

Both Julia and Julian walk onto stage to get their shared award, I turn to my right to see Mark filming Every moment

Jude and I stand up so both of them can see us, they see us and wave and we return the gesture by smiling and waving

Next they announce that they'll be announcing the prizes for the year 1s ( first graders)

Which is Julian and Julia's year (grade)

"We will first start with the year 1s and their achievements" the MC Says

"I would like to call Mrs. Madden to the stage to present the Awards"

Mrs. Madden walks onto the stage, greets the audience, and continues Jude gives me a side eye as if to say "look at her outfit" Mrs. Madden has on an old looking cardigan and a pair of baggy trousers, bright red glasses and Pebbles/stones for Jewelry "Good evening, everyone. It's my pleasure to present the awards for the Year 1 students. These young minds have shown remarkable dedication and enthusiasm throughout the year. First, we'll start with the award for Excellence in Mathematics, which goes to... Julian Bellingham!"

The audience erupts in applause as Julian confidently strides to the stage to accept his award. His smile is radiant, and his eyes gleam with pride.

"That's my boy," Jude whispers to me, his face beaming with pride. I squeeze his hand, sharing in the moment of joy.

Julian accepts his award, posing for a quick photo before returning to his seat.

"Next, the award for Outstanding Performance in English goes to... Julia Bellingham!"

Julia, not to be outdone by her brother, walks gracefully to the stage, her expression one of quiet confidence. The applause is even louder this time, with our family cheering her on.

"I'm so proud of them," I say to Jude, my eyes welling up with tears of happiness.

"I know, me too," Jude replies, his voice full of emotion.

Julia accepts her award and waves at us again before taking her seat beside Julian.

Mrs. Madden continues, "The next award is for Excellence in Sports. This student has shown exceptional talent and dedication in various sports activities. The award goes to... Julian Bellingham!"

Julian gets up again, looking slightly embarrassed but very pleased as he accepts his second award. The applause is thunderous.

"He's going to need a bigger shelf for all these awards," Jude jokes, making me laugh.

"And finally," Mrs. Madden announces, "the award for Leadership and Teamwork goes to a student who has demonstrated exceptional leadership skills and the ability to work well with others. This award goes to... Julia Bellingham!"

Julia stands up for the second time, her face glowing with pride. She walks to the stage, collects her award, and waves once more, her smile brighter than ever.

As the ceremony concludes, the children are invited to take pictures with their families. Jude and I rush to the front to congratulate our kids, enveloping them in big, proud hugs.

"You both did amazing!" I say, kissing each of their foreheads.

"We're so proud of you," Jude adds, ruffling Julian's hair and hugging Julia tightly.

"Thanks, Mom and Dad!" they both say, their faces glowing with happiness.

Denise, Mark, and Jobe join us, offering their congratulations. Denise takes out her phone and suggests, "Let's get a family picture to remember this moment."

We gather together, with Julian and Julia holding their awards proudly. As the camera clicks, I can't help but think about how lucky we are to have such amazing children and a loving, supportive family.

"Alright, let's go celebrate!" Jude announces, lifting Julian onto his shoulders. And me taking Julia into my arms, planting a kiss onto her cheek then her forehead

"Yeah, ice cream for everyone!, Say goodbye to your grandparents and Uncle Jobe" I add, placing Julia back down then holding her hand

"Bye nana" Julia Says as she hugs her grandmother

"Goodbye my Darling, I'm so proud of you, and you as well Julian" Denise says as she hugs the both of them

We continue saying our goodbyes and walk them to their car and we start making way to our car as well

as we make our way out of the venue, hearts full and spirits high.

The evening is a perfect blend of pride, love, and celebration, and as we head to our favorite ice cream parlor, I know that this is a day we will cherish forever.

As we walk to the car, Jude spots another kid and nudges me. "Look at that kid's bowtie. It's bigger than his head."

I laugh, nudging him back. "Jude, be nice!"

"And that one," he whispers, nodding towards a girl with a massive hair bow. "Is she trying to take flight with that thing?"

"Stop it!" I giggle, trying to hold back my laughter.

"Alright, alright," he says, chuckling. "But you have to admit, this is entertaining."

"You're terrible," I say, still laughing. "But I love you anyway."

"I love you too," he replies, pulling me close and kissing my forehead. "Now, let's go get some ice cream."

We pile into the car, the kids chattering excitedly about their awards in the backseat. Jude starts the engine and we head to our favorite ice cream parlor, the mood in the car light and joyful.

As we arrive and park, Jude turns to me with a playful smile. "You know, I was just thinking..."

"Uh-oh, should I be worried?" I tease, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," he laughs. "But seriously, what if Julian and Julia go into comedy? They seem to have a knack for entertaining, just like their old man."

"Oh, really? So now you're a comedian?" I say, laughing.

"Well, I did make you laugh, didn't I?" he retorts, winking.

We all get out of the car and head into the parlor, the kids rushing ahead to choose their favorite flavors. Jude and I follow more slowly, holding hands and enjoying the moment.

As we enter the ice cream parlor, the sweet aroma of freshly baked waffles and scoops of ice cream fills the air. Julian and Julia rush towards the display of flavors, their eyes wide with anticipation.

"Mom, Dad, look at all the choices!" Julia exclaims, pointing excitedly.

"Yeah, Dad, they even have that weird green one you like," Julian adds with a grin.

Jude chuckles. "Hey, mint chocolate chip is a classic! Don't knock it till you've tried it."

I roll my eyes playfully. "You and your adventurous taste buds."

"Just trying to keep things interesting," he replies with a wink.

We join the kids at the counter, scanning the menu for our own favorites. Julian opts for a towering sundae while Julia goes for a colorful cone with sprinkles.

"I think I'll go for something simple today," I say, eyeing a scoop of strawberry cheesecake.

Jude nudges me. "Oh, come on, live a little! How about a triple scoop with all the works?"

I laugh. "I'll leave that to you, Mr. Mint Chocolate Chip."

As we wait for our treats, Jude leans closer to me, his voice low. "Did you see that kid's hair over there? It looks like a bird's nest."

I stifle a laugh. "Jude! Be nice."

"I'm just observing," he insists, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know I can't resist a good hairstyle critique."

"Well, keep your critiques to yourself," I tease, trying not to giggle too loudly.

Our ice cream arrives, and we settle into a cozy booth. Julian and Julia dive into their treats with gusto, their faces quickly turning into a sticky mess of smiles and satisfaction.

Jude leans back, savoring his mint chocolate chip. "You know, I have to hand it to them. These kids really know how to enjoy life's simple pleasures."

"Like ice cream," I add, licking a stray drip from my cone.

"Exactly," he says, nodding. "I mean, who needs fancy dinners when you've got a scoop of your favorite flavor?"

"Or a tower of sundaes," I reply, gesturing towards Julian's creation.

We watch our kids laugh and talk between messy bites, their joy infectious. It's moments like these that remind me why I fell in love with Jude—the way he finds humor in everyday moments and brings out the best in our family.

As we finish our ice cream, Jude leans over and whispers, "That kid over there looks like he's trying to break the world record for fastest ice cream eater." He says eyeing the poor child that just seems to be really enjoying his ice cream

I burst out laughing, unable to contain myself. "Jude, stop, what's wrong with you today and making fun of kids!" I manage to say between giggles.

He grins mischievously. "What? I'm just stating the obvious, and it's not like I'm saying it to their faces, how will they know I'm talking about them ?"

"You're terrible," I say, shaking my head, still laughing.

He chuckles softly. "But you love me anyway, right?"

"Of course," I reply, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "Even when you're making fun of kids' hairstyles."

He squeezes my hand back, his eyes warm with affection. "I love you too, always."

We sit together in comfortable silence, watching our children and soaking in the happiness of this simple, perfect moment. As we prepare to leave, Jude leans over once more.

"Ready to head home, or should we challenge the kids to a rematch in mini golf?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Let's save that for another day. Right now, I think we've had enough excitement for one evening."

"Fair enough," he says, rising from the booth. "But don't think I won't take you up on that challenge someday."

I smile, knowing that whatever adventures lie ahead, we'll face them together—as partners, parents, and best friends.

"I love that idea," I say, kissing him on the cheek. "It's perfect."

As we sit there, enjoying our ice cream and each other's company, I realize that moments like these are what life is all about—love, laughter, and the simple joy of being together.

Jude takes a spoon of his ice cream  and leans back, content. "This is the life," he says, smiling at me and the kids. "I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Me neither," I reply, squeezing his hand. "Me neither."

The evening winds down with more laughter, stories, and plans for the future. As we drive home, the kids eventually fall asleep in the backseat, clutching their awards.

Jude looks over at me and smiles. "We did good, didn't we?"

"We did great," I reply, feeling a warm glow of happiness. "Our little achievers."

We pull into the driveway, and Jude gently carries Julian inside while I take Julia. We tuck them into bed, kissing their foreheads and whispering words of love and pride.

Back in our bedroom, Jude wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. "Thank you for being my partner in this crazy, wonderful life," he says softly.

"Thank you for being mine," I reply, resting my head on his chest.

As we drift off to sleep, I can't help but feel incredibly grateful for this beautiful family we've built together—a family filled with love, humor, and endless possibilities.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Touch and Go: A Detective's Romance

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI 

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Detective!Female!Reader 

Fandom: Night Hunter 

Word Count: 3.3K 

Summary: What happens when a touch-starved detective who isn’t well-versed in human interaction meets their match?  

Warnings: touch starvation, awkward conversation, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, crying during sex 

A/N: It’s apparently winter in this story, damn Minnesota weather. Honestly, I was watching the movie while writing so it ended up being snowy. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.  

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me 

Cover Art by me 

My Masterlist 

It’s not like you never noticed your fellow officer. Of course, your attention has been pulled to Detective Walter Marshall once or twice, or several times throughout your time working together. Damn, ok the man was a presence. His very existence should have a warning label on it. 

Not that he’s a bad person. Far from it, in fact. You thought the world of him. Not that you’d admit it, but you found his grumpiness endearing. His monosyllabic responses to questions made it a bit hard to get to know him. You weren’t exactly an open book yourself. But you forced yourself to try and get to know him. 

You didn’t make it a habit to get to know people very often. You had trust issues, and rightfully so after what your ex-partner left you with. A broken heart and a fractured view of your self-worth. You hadn’t even let anyone touch you in so long. A handshake here or there, maybe a pat on the shoulder but nothing more. 

And now here you were, a touch-starved mess who had grown to be a bit more than interested in another detective. You wanted to make him smile and that was a foreign feeling to you. So, you started with an olive branch. 

Asking if he wanted a coffee on your way to the break room. After the fifth time, he relents, requesting a cup of black coffee with three sugars. While you’re there, you pick up a granola bar from the cabinet. Handing him the paper cup of coffee, you also pull the treat from your back pocket and toss it on his desk. 

He tilts his head like a giant puppy at the snack. 

“Humor me and eat something. I’m curious if you’re eating enough if I’m being honest.” You bite your bottom lip unconsciously, and the beginnings of a smile appear on his face as he rips open the bar and takes a bite. 

Chewing slowly and staring at you, he seems to look right through to your soul. You look down at your feet to break eye contact and he clears his throat, getting your attention back.  

“You know, I actually love food. I love to cook almost every night.” As the words come out of his mouth, it’s like they’re fighting their way out. As if each syllable is a punch to the gut. 

“I love food, too. But I hate cooking,” You suddenly had a very dry throat, so you sip a bit of coffee before speaking again, “I’m not inviting myself over or anything, but if you’d be up for it sometime...I, uh...yeah.” You look everywhere but him as you trail off. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice. I normally eat alone. Be nice to have someone...there...to eat with.” It’s like speaking makes him physically nauseous, the way his jaw tenses like that. 

“Well, I’m free most nights, so...just let me know.” You move to turn and leave his office, but he stops you with an offering. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be free tonight?” He’s even surprised by his question but plays it off by folding his hands on his desk and maintaining eye contact. 

“Yes. I’m free.” You know you sound desperate but at this point, this is the most contact you’ve had with the man since you’ve been here so who cares? Well, you do, but you can worry about that later. 

“Good. Yeah. So, uh, I guess come and grab me when you’re ready to go. You can follow me to my place. Sound good?”  

“Yeah, that sounds great. Um, I’m gonna leave so I don’t say something embarrassing. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I just—” 

Walter cuts you off, saving you from yourself. “Don’t do this a lot?” 

“No, I don’t. Been a long time and I don’t want to fuck this up, ya know? Not that playing it cool was ever my style. Why start now, right?” You surprise Walter by laughing at your self-deprecating joke and he follows suit. 

The little duck of his head doesn’t stop you from seeing the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. When he picks his head up again, a broad smile is painted on that normally glum face. If you had 1% less control over your face, you would have drooled. 

This man should smile more. 

And you know you hate being told to put on a smile but fuck, his face was made for it. You realize you’re still looking at him and a faint rose-tinted blush dusts across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

You should not be allowed to be that adorable. 

“What?” Walter’s question brings you back to where you just said that sentence out loud. 

“I think I just called you adorable. So, I’m gonna see myself out and try not to throw myself into traffic on the way to my desk. I’ll be back when I’ve calmed my brain down a bit.” You wave awkwardly and exit his office before you can notice the smile inching back over his features. 

You spend the next two and a half hours hoping you didn’t make a complete ass out of yourself in front of the only man you’ve talked to in the last few months that wasn’t a delivery driver or your boss. The only person who you’ve talked to for more than a few minutes about something other than work.  

When 5:30 p.m. comes around, you gather your things and drag your feet to Walter’s office. He’s already standing, putting away some files in his desk drawer, looking up when he hears your polite throat clearing. 

“How do you feel about Spaghetti Bolognese? I have a recipe from Jamie Oliver that I’ve been meaning to try out.” He says, putting on his parka and moving toward you where you stand in his doorway. 

“Um, pasta is life. Pasta with meat sauce? Even better.” You brighten at the mention of a familiar dish, your previous nerves all but forgotten. 

“Great. Shall I help you with your coat?” He hinted once he realized you weren’t moving toward the exit. 

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.” You set down your purse and handed over your fluffy overcoat.  

Walter holds it out for you as you back your arms into the sleeves. As it comes to rest on your shoulders comfortably, his hands smooth over the fabric that covers your forearms, your hands ending up in his for a moment. 

You freeze at the sudden contact but if Walter notices, he doesn't make a big deal out of it. He just squeezes your hand quickly and hands you your purse so you can walk out together. You are grateful to be among the stragglers leaving the office so that you don’t draw too much attention. 

Walter walks you to your car and has you put in his address to your GPS, ‘just in case you get lost�� he jests before heading to his truck. As you watch him walk away, one thought comes to your mind. 

Is this a date? 

You park behind Walter’s truck in his driveway, climb out of your car, and crunch through the snow behind him. In your clumsy state, your foot slips, and strong arms catch you so that you don’t completely bust your ass on the unforgiving ice below.  

This time when he touches your arms, you are beyond grateful to be able to pull yourself upright again. Once you’re stable, Walter keeps one of your hands in his until you make it to his front door. He lets you walk in first, turning on the light to the short hallway after you chuckle in the darkness. 

Walter takes your coat and hangs it up with his, your wet boots left by the door. Walking into the kitchen, he pulls out a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Opening the wine, he pours each glass and brings them out to where you are standing in the living room. Handing you a glass, he raises his own.  

“Shall we toast to something?” Walter smiles softly, expectantly waiting for you to suggest what to salute. 

“To...being pleasantly surprised that you still wanted to cook for me despite every awkward moment I’ve had since earlier today. You are a gentleman and a scholar and I'm gonna shut my mouth and drink this wine before I just...keep talking.” You cringe inwardly before looking back up at Walter. 

He is watching you with rapt fascination, a slow smile forming. “Let’s toast to practicing human interaction. I’d say we could both use some assistance in that area. We’ll help each other, deal?”  

“Deal.” You tap your glass to his and take a sip of the now-aerated wine. Your cheeks warm at the blackberry finish of the cabernet sauvignon.  

Maybe there is something to the whole liquid courage thing. 

Dinner turned out lovely. You were pleasantly surprised that Walter could cook. There were moments watching him cook where he didn’t have to measure things, or he added a little extra of this or that. He didn’t use a recipe while making the garlic toast like it’s a staple of his repertoire or something. 

Sitting on his couch with your feet tucked up under you, you look around the living room at the lack of family photos or little touches that scream Walter Marshall. Not that you would have any idea of what those little touches would be. It just doesn’t feel like a home. It feels like a house, just a house that someone lives in. 

When he comes back to the couch with freshly poured wine, you accept your glass with a smile, and he returns it.  

“It is a Friday night. We are enjoying our second bottle of wine. You made me a delicious dinner. And I still can’t figure out if this is a date, Walter.” You fiddled with the glass in your hand, looking into it as if the answer was inside the wine. 

Walter’s thumb and forefinger on your chin have you looking up at his face. “I’ve used almost every excuse to touch you tonight. I kept talking to you earlier when you thought you’d lost me. I feed off your awkwardness because you say what’s on your mind without a filter. I’m not exactly one to speak a lot but I enjoy talking to you. Because you make me feel like I’m not alone.” 

Unshed tears gather at the corner of your eyes. You swallow the lump in your throat, clearing it loudly before you speak. “Can you tell I’m touch-starved because you are too?” 

At his quiet nod, you take his wine glass and set both of your glasses on the coffee table. You lean forward, your elbows on your knees. He watches as you have a silent moment with yourself, going over different scenarios before you reach a consensus with yourself. You look back up to him and your face softens. 

Reaching out your hand, you intertwine your fingers in his curls. As he turns his head to push it further into your hand, his breathing picks up. He grabs your fingers as they migrate to his jawline.  

“I want...I need more than this. I'd like to say I could wait, but all I can think about is kissing you until you can barely breathe.” Walter forces the words out, his breathing in time with yours. Erratic. 

You climb into his lap, one hand still in his, the other hand fisting his wool jumper. “Then kiss me until I can barely breathe. Fuck breathing. I just need you.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth, than Walter’s lips are on yours. It’s like he was starving and the breath from your lungs was the only meal he’d had in weeks. You could feel his hunger as he licked the seam of your lips, letting him in was the only option.  

As your tongues fought for dominance, he took the lead in a way you couldn’t ignore. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your torso flush to his. You felt so small yet so special as he held you. So new yet so treasured as you broke the kiss and rested your forehead against his to calm your nerves and catch your breath. 

A moment passes between you where you both just breathe. Until you lean your head back, locking eyes with Walter again, and you nod. He understands your non-verbal request, picking you up and walking toward his bedroom. Kicking the door behind him, he lays you down in bed and gets to work undressing you. 

You lift your hips as he pulls your jeans and underwear down your legs. You remove your top and bra, and he watches as your body is exposed to him. He stands to make quick work of his jumper, and you salivate at the sight of his hardness through his boxers when his jeans are pushed down his legs. His hefty dick springs up against his abdomen as his boxers are removed. 

Your hands roam over his hairy chest as he climbs onto the bed. With a hand under each knee, he pushes your legs back as far as they will go. He admires the shiny wetness that your pussy leaks. Shifting closer, he pushes the head of his dick through your folds and groans. 

He looks up into your eyes and asks silently if he can continue. When you nod, he enters you and your body accepts him fully. Allowing you to get adjusted to his size, he wraps your legs around his waist and pulls out until just the tip remains inside you before he slams back into you. This time you both groan, you at the fullness, him at the tight squeeze. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing. But please, keep moving.” Your words are all he needed to begin an all-out assault on your cunt. 

If it had been a while for him, you’d be none the wiser with the stamina this man possessed. He held your legs open while he fucked into you. He allowed you to just take it as he did most of the work. You could hardly keep up with his thrusts as you melted beneath him. 

“You’re so fucking close, just let go for me. I can feel you squeezing my fucking cock. Be a good girl and come for me.” While he whispered in your ear, he ground his pelvis into you to stimulate your clit and G-spot at the same time. 

When your resolve finally breaks, you try and hide your face in Walter’s neck to no avail. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls you back so he can watch your orgasm play out on your face. 

“Don’t hide from me when I’m making you come. I want to watch you fall apart under my hands. You are so fucking gorgeous when you come for me, girl.” He talks as you come down from your orgasm and the warmth that spreads over your body is palpable. 

“Thank you,” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. 

Walter all but runs with it. “Fuck yes, you fucking thank me for your orgasm. That’s my good girl.” He pulls out, turning you on your side and sliding in behind you. Entering you again, he reaches a hand around to play with your clit. Circling your nub, then flicking it to keep you stimulated enough to come all over his fingers. 

You come for a second time within a few minutes, and he fucks you through it. Your words are clipped while you try to thank him once more and it just comes out as breathy whispers. 

Your moans are music to his ears and he pistons in and out of you. As your walls massage his cock, he starts to falter in his movements. You reach back to grab his hand, lacing your fingers together before pulling your hands to your chest. 

Getting the message, Walter wraps his other arm around you to pull you even more impossibly close to him. He slows down his pace, dragging out your moans as he unhurriedly moves inside you. He leans into your ear and speaks softly. 

“You have no idea how much I needed this. How much I wanted you. I didn’t know how to talk to you. Fuck, you feel amazing. Need you every day, girl. Just like this, wrapped up in you. I won’t last much longer. So perfect.” He babbles near the end, whimpering your name. He latches onto your neck as he stills inside you. 

His teeth nip at you and his tongue soothes your skin as you feel his cock twitch and paint your walls with his spend. You can hear him groan in your ear as his arms hold you tight. You haven’t felt this safe in someone’s arms since you were little. You don’t notice you’re crying until Walter wipes away the tears that fall down your face. 

“I’m sorry, I—” 

“If you’re about to apologize for crying in front of me, please don’t. You deserve to express your emotions no matter who is around. Least of all, me.” He places a kiss on your neck, attempting to soothe you. 

“Fair. I haven’t been held or even touched in so long and it’s a little embarrassing that my first reaction is to cry.” You sniff, rolling your eyes at yourself. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I know that’s easier said than done. But trust me, we just experienced some intense sex. And it was emotional for both of us. Trust me. Can’t you feel how fucking hard I am still inside you?” He moves his hips just slightly and is rewarded with a shiver going down your spine. 

“Walter...please.” You let your whimpers be heard and you get what you want.  

He moves to his knees while keeping you on your side. He pushes your leg up to a 90-degree angle and leans forward to fuck into you. The sound of slapping flesh fills the room as well as Walter’s grunts as he buries himself deeper inside you than before. 

“I’m gonna...please, don’t stop!” You reach up to hold his cheek in one hand and he shuts his eyes at the contact. When they open again, his pupils are blown wide. 

“Not stopping until you come again for me, girl.” The hand on his cheek migrates to his forehead to wipe away sweat-slick curls from his brow. 

“Come with me, Walter!”  

“Ugh, fuck!” 

The hold you have on your orgasm falters and your walls flutter around him, his hands curl around your thigh as his hips pound into you one last time. As his cock spurts inside you, your cunt continues to milk him until he softens and is released from your hold on him. 

He collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. You reach an arm across his chest and settle in to catch your breath. Looking up one last time to Walter’s face, you’re pleasantly surprised to see a smile on his normally grumpy face. His eyes are closed, and you feel at peace knowing you are the cause of that serene expression. 

“Stay with me tonight.” You’re startled by his words, but you can’t deny the smile that crosses your face.  

Leaning up to kiss his stubbled neck, you revel in the grunt that follows. “Good night, Walter.” 

You feel him kiss the top of your head, nosing at your hair. “Night.” 

You fall asleep with your hand in his chest hair, your legs tangled together. You are held, you are safe, and you couldn’t be happier. Talking about what all this means could wait until the morning. For now, you bask in the feeling of warmth that this man and this moment give you. 

Touch and Go: The Morning After

A/N: Shout out to @sillyrabbit81 for her Detective Grumpypants Spotify playlist which helped me so much in writing this. 

**Tag List** 

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @peyton-warren @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel 

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁 

[braxiatel]

An assortment of Grian appearance headcanons I’ve had on my mind lately!

(Obligatory mention that I’m talking about Grian the character and not Grian the youtuber, here’s your confirmation that this is not about real life guy Grian minecraft whose appearance is well documented, but rather it is about his minecraft roleplay character who is made out of pixels and blocks and whose appearance is very much up for discussion)

His eyes are that shade of brown that’s so dark it looks black

He wears glasses, and through experience he has learned that unless he wants to be replacing them about once a month he needs them to have a thick and sturdy frame

Grian has a whopping case of adhd and is extremely good at misplacing his belongings. His glasses are not exempt from this just because they help him see, and he has managed to lose every single pair he owns several times. At some point one of his friends (I'm leaning Pearl or Jimmy) got tired of hearing him complain about it, and got him a golden chain to keep them on. Grian pretends he’s just using it because it appeals to his love for shiny things, but in reality it actually helps him a lot and he would be very sad were he to lose it

Speaking of his adhd. This guy moves. He does not sit still, does not like to be doing nothing. He builds, he helps other hermits with stuff they don’t have time to do, and he is well known to do Grindy tasks. And you know what that means? Grian is strong. In fact, Grian is buff

This is related to some hybrid stuff I’ll get more into in a sec, but very specifically, Grian is a flyer and those natural wings need a lot of muscle around them to work. That means a lot of upper body strength, especially in the pectoral region. Yes, I said gritty rights.

I wish I could remember what artist originally drew Grian’s waffle as an undercut with a pattern because I love that headcanon so much. He varies what the rest of his hair looks like (he has a manbun in season 9) but the undercut stays no matter what

Tangentially, the reason Mumbo now has a waffle as well is that his hair just grows in that shape now. He has extremely specific alopecia, and it is unclear whether or not Grian is the same or if he just prefers to keep his hair that way.

Grian has clear and visible bald patches in his eyebrows. This is a product of him having had TNT blow up in his face one too many times, resulting in the follicles having been damaged

Along a similar vein, he is also missing somewhere in the realm of 1-3 fingers total on his hands

I don’t think of Grian as someone who is very particular with his hair or with stuff like makeup. Most days he’ll do the bare minimum of combing his hair to look presentable and that’s it

That said, he loooooooves shiny jewellery, and his wardrobe is by far the largest on the server. Due to aforementioned constant moving he need things that are practical to move in, but other than that he has no rules on what goes in there. You’ve got sequinned mini skirts next to permanently dirt-stained overalls next to rainbow bucket hats. This guy has it all.

He does sometimes wear a red sweater, but I am going to say something controversial here, guys. Look at that man's shirt. Look at that cleavage view. He’s wearing a v-neck

Okay so hybrid headcanons. I have several, mutually exclusive ideas here, but I will go with one I think is, frankly, very underutilised: gryphon hybrid Grian!

Want avian Grian for all of the historically present bird coding? Also want to acknowledge the fact that he has so much mischievous cat energy? Gryphon Grian! He’s half bird, half cat, half human, and all menace.

There are a couple of different bird species I think he could be.

House sparrow, for the noise levels, the tendency to travel in a pack, and the sheer gremlin energy these little bastards exhibit outside of my kitchen window on a daily basis.

I think he could definitely be some kind of corvid too. Maybe a magpie? Beautiful plumage (fight me), incredibly intelligent and likely to make that your problem, and with a call that lends itself very well to Grian’s screech-laughter

You all know my opinions on potoo Grian. It works, okay? Look into his horrible, haunted eyes, you know it to be true.

For a season 10 fisherman arc Grian I am very much leaning towards an oriental darter. There’s just something about the idea of Grian spearfishing for mending books, and sulking in the sun to dry his wings when he only catches fish that I enjoy very much

Owl for his cursed head movements

Okay so wings talk time! I headcanon that naturally avians simply do not have wings strong enough to fly with. They’re too short, and even for someone like Grian who flies A Lot the musculature to support a humanoid frame just isn’t there. That said, elytra are easily modified to function as a sort of wing extension/prosthetic, that allows them to gain much more power for less energy expended.

You would think, with me being the owner of three cats, that I would have some kind of idea for a specific breed of cat he might be. The thing is, my family have historically always kept the same breed (Norwegian forest cat mix c: ), so I know very much about those and no other cat breeds. He is simply cat :)

Biiiiig naughty tortie vibes. My sources for this is I have one of the latter and she is the same level of Problems a Grian

This is the little madam caught in the act of doing something dastardly. She commits one hundred crimes every single day and we love her. Tell me that is not big Grian vibes right there. You can't, right? he is a naughty tortie

Other Grian hybrid options I also like: avian, watcher, robot!!, cod, enchanted armour stand come to life!, and fey!Grian

[thrashkink-coven]

Answering FAQs I get ab Lucifer and I

1. Are you godspoused?

A: Nope! Lucifer and I’s relationship might emulate some elements of god spousal, but the “label” I would use for our relationship is “devoted”. In the same way that people can have intimate relationships with their friends, I happen to have an intimate relationship with Lucifer. But I wouldn’t consider him to be my boyfriend or husband, for some reason the concept of that feels odd to me.

2. Does your irl partner know about your relationship with Lucifer?

A: Lol look at our room. Yes. It was my bf who got me my Lucifer ring :)) my bf is not a pagan but she is finds the whole thing interesting. My bf likes to hear about what I’m up to with Lucifer, and Lucifer absolutely adores hearing about my partner.

3. When did you first start seeing Lucifer intimately?

A: Probably about a year or so into our working relationship. I already did sex magic and things of the sort so he kinda just helped out. I immediately felt very connected and familiar with him when we first started working together. Over time we just got closer.

4. Have Lucifer and you ever argued?

A: Lucifer is very difficult to argue with because he’s really great at diffusing aggression and he loves to debate. He doesn’t back away from confrontation. Have we disagreed? Constantly. He loves to challenge me, even if only to test my convictions. But I wouldn’t say we’ve ever really “argued”. I don’t think he’s ever done anything that made me hold a grudge against him. There have only been like extremely minor instances of him crossing a boundary and he apologized profusely.

5. Does Lucifer get mad if you forget to give offerings?

A: I didn’t approach Lucifer looking for a deal or outcome, we have a contract but not a transactional one, so I’m not really “obligated” to give him offerings just like he’s not obligated to give me anything… because we didn’t make a business deal. If you approach a demon and ask for a promotion at work then you’ll probably be obligated to hold up whatever your end of the deal was. I kinda just… wanted to get to know Lucifer so that didn’t really apply.

Lucifer doesn’t particularly demand offerings, he makes requests but that’s only because he knows I like giving offerings. He has never gotten mad at me for not giving him things.

6: What are Lucifer’s pet peeves?

A: Hypocrisy and lack of accountability. If you’re not willing to admit you’re wrong sometimes you’re never going to be willing to learn better.

7. How do you start seeing a deity romantically or intimately?

A: 🤷‍♂️ idk. I didn’t really plan to get swept up by Lucifer it kinda just happened. one day a god went “I like this one I think I’ll keep him” and I’ve been winning ever since.

8. What does Lucifer look like to you?

A: Gorgeous 💕. no but to be real Lucifer doesn’t always appear to me as a human (serpent Lucifer has been v prevalent lately, that’s really cool). oftentimes he appears as a twinkling light or a place like a garden or river. When he does appear humanoid he usually has long, curly, gold or black hair depending on whether he’s the morning or the evening star. He’s always illuminated as if he’s standing in front of the sun. Sunlight shines through his hair. Similarly his eyes are either blue, or red depending. They’re sharp and intense like smouldering coals. He’s had many different shades of skin, and he usually appears male aligned with some feminine traits. He’s built strong. There have been occasions in dreams where he’s carried me around in one arm. If ever he has wings they are pearl white, six in total. He can be the size of a regular human or massive like a planet. If he’s wearing clothes he usually wears robes or very loose fitting fabrics, lots of jewelry. It sometimes appears like he’s wearing makeup. He likes to look elegant.

Here are a couple pics I found that kinda emulate him:

It’s also worth noting that my Lucifer’s appearance is definitely most probably highly informed by my human partner. Their hair and facial features are somewhat similar.

9. Has Lucifer ever scared you?

A: Honestly yes, not in the way that I thought I was in any danger, but I’ve seen how terrifying he can be. He’s never directed any aggression towards me, but I’ve seen him in his more warlike archetypes and I understand why he is often considered to be the King or Emperor of Hell. I’ve seen him get extremely protective and vengeful, which is a hard contrast to his usually very chillaxed vibe. The thing about Lucifer is that he doesn’t rage, he stews and simmers and festers and plots until he knows exactly how to destroy you.

10. What’s your favourite thing about Lucifer?

A: His patience and leadership. Dude is just so fucking good at explaining things and guiding you through concepts. Physically I would say his voice. His voice comes in this very low hum that’s just delicious to listen to, especially when he’s singing. like a really nice bass guitar. He also smells very great.

[fireflyinks]

good girl

Mike Schmidt x reader smut

contains : degrading (slut) , sort of dacryphillia if you squint, dom mike, p in v, blowjob, praise, use of daddy

MATURE 18+

Mike was a very introverted person. He didn’t like having loads of attention on him, in fact, he avoided it at all costs. When my friends would come over for girl talk and wine, he’d politely greet them before slipping into our bedroom to hide.

“So…” one of my friends turned to me, pouring herself another glass of wine. I was completely sober, mainly because I had to drive Abby to school in the morning and I felt that any proper host shouldn’t be black out drunk. “What’s up with Mike?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“What’s he into? He’s so quiet when we’re around, is he always like that?”

Shaking my head, I look back at our door. He’s probably asleep, I thought, he won’t hear me.

“He’s actually pretty kinky.”

The girls started to squeal, kicking their feet. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” I giggled, “he acts shy around you guys but he’s…”

“He’s what?”

I sigh, “Girls, I shouldn’t be telling you guys this. It’s an invasion of privacy!”

“I literally just gave you an in-depth description of a blowjob I gave last week… you’re fine! This is just girl talk, we’d never tell anyone.”

I guess that’s true, Mike couldn’t be too mad. It’s just girl talk after all.

“Okay… he’s into the whole bdsm thing.”

More squeals follow, along with a few gasps and giggles.

“Really? Okay, be real with me, does he like the whole ‘daddy’ thing?”

I laugh, looking down at my hands before nodding.

“Okay… well what’s the kinkiest thing you two have ever done?”

Thinking for a moment, I feel my cheeks flush.

“He likes to tie me up sometimes, and he spanks me a lot.”

I hear a floor board creek behind me, and look back only to be met with Mike’s on me. He pauses for a moment, before continuing walking down the hallway.

“Oh shit.” I whisper to the girls, crossing my arms in embarrassment, “I am so fucked.”

—

By the time the wine was gone and the girls had left, I’d accepted my fate.

As I opened the bedroom door, I was met with Mike’s glare. He sat on the bed, facing the door, as if he were waiting for me.

“Undress for me.” was all he said, keeping his composure. His tone made me so wet. I rubbed my legs together as I slipped my shirt off slowly. I stepped out of my pants.

“Leave them.” He ordered as I began to remove my panties, and I nodded.

Mike stood up, walking over to me.

“Get on the bed, ass up.”

I did as he said, positioning myself in the way I always ended up by the end of the night. Mike has been obsessed with this position ever since we got a mirror right beside the bed. He loved forcing me to watch him ruin me.

He looked at me through the mirror, almost smiling.

“Since you want to be such a loud mouthed slut,” he began to tug at my panties, removing them himself, “I’m gonna fucking treat you like one.”

“I’m not a slut…” I decided to argue back. After all, my fate had already been decided, how much worst could it get?

“Is that so…? Well, you’re certainly not a good girl.” He held my panties up to my face, the wetness glistened in the light. “Because good girls don’t get off to embarrassing their boyfriends.”

“I’m sorry-“

He tutted, placing a firm smack on my ass.

“Don’t talk unless I tell you to. Do you hear me?”

I nodded, my bottom lip trembling, “Yes sir.”

“God, you’re such a bad girl. What happened to my good girl, I miss her.” He unclipped my bra, pulling the lacy fabric off of me and lifting me onto my knees. Mike examined me in the mirror, shaking his head.

“You’re too fucking pretty to be such a bad girl, you know that?”

“Yes sir.” Our eyes met in the mirror, a small smirk crept onto his face.

“No, I don’t think you do. I don’t think you understand how fucking gorgeous you are and how much it kills me that I have to punish you like a brat when I should be worshipping you.”

I hung my head in shame while also trying to hide my blush.

“No.” He grabbed my jaw and forced me to look in the mirror. “Look at my beautiful girl. Too bad she’s too busy telling her slutty friends all of our secrets to even notice how much I’d praise her if she were a good girl.”

“I’m sorry daddy.” My lower lip trembled.

I guess I had been really bratty lately. Teasing Mike any opportunity I had, talking back to him, whining. And now I’d embarrassed him in front of all of my friends. He was right. I’m supposed to be his good girl.

Hot tears began to pour down my cheeks. His face contorted, and he spun me around quickly.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Do you need to use the safe word?” He caressed my cheek, not taking his eyes off of me.

“No, I’m just sorry daddy! I’ve been such a bad girl lately. I wanna be good for you, please let me be good for you.”

He began to smile, patting my cheek.

“Aw, of course.” He laid me down on my stomach, my face directly infront of the grey bulge in his sweat pants.

“You’re too cute, so I guess I won’t punish you if you can make it up to me.”

I nodded vigorously, getting to work pulling down his sweats and boxers. His cock sprang forward, almost hitting me in the face.

“There, baby. Be a good girl and suck on it.”

I took him into my mouth, swirling my tounge of the tip the way I knew he liked. He groaned, throwing his head back with a pleasureful sigh.

“There’s my good girl.”

His words made my core flutter. I bobbed my head on his cock, earning more lewd moans.

Right as he was about to finish, he pulled me off, caressing my cheek. I pressed my thighs together, the friction causing a small whimper to fall from my lips.

“Are you needy, baby?”

I nodded vigorously, “Yes daddy.”

He smirked, “What do you want?”

Gesturing to his still hard cock, I hoped he wouldn’t tease and just give me what he knew I needed.

“Nuh uh, I have to hear you say it.”

“I- I want your cock.”

He tilted his head, putting on a look of confusion.

“Where do you want my cock? Hm?”

I bit my lip, blushing. “In my pussy.”

He smiled, flipping me on my back. “Well, since you’ve been so good for me, I guess we can manage that.”

Mike connected his lips to mine, before entering me slowly . His pace wasn’t the quickest, but he thrusted deep and hard, earning strained moans after every drive of his member.

He played with my clit with one hand, while holding one of my legs over his shoulder with the other.

“Feel good?” He asked teasingly, staring at my fucked-out face.

“Yes, can I cum, please?”

In a matter of seconds he flipped me onto my stomach, so that we were facing the mirror.

“Look at your pretty face when you cum. When I paint your fucking walls white.”

His pace quickened, which drove me to an orgasm. He came inside of me shortly after, staring at my face as he did so.

“Good girl.” Feel from his lips as he laid beside me, panting heavily.

“Thank you daddy.” I cuddled up to him, blushing. I was so glad that I could be his good girl once again.

[scuttling]

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 2

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,441 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, it's gonna get real nasty Summary: Sookie's cousin returns to Bon Temps, and Eric wants her... to work for him. She says yes.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

She finds herself at Fangtasia again a few days later—what else does she have to do, unemployed and ostracized as she is?—with another martini in her hand as she stares up at a surrealist painting hanging on the wall. It’s larger than life, with tigers and an elephant and a nude woman lounging in the sea, but she’s afraid she can make no emotional connection to it. Dali is weird.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” Eric greets in a low, even tone as he seems to materialize beside her, his eyes also on the painting. This time he’s wearing a black v-neck sweater, and it makes the muscles of his arms look even better, if that’s possible.

“Teasing you?” she asks, looking up at him, and he turns to her and scans her body the way he seems to every time they meet. It would irritate her, if it were anyone else, but having Eric’s attention is hugely flattering, and she can’t bring herself to dismiss the way it makes her feel.

“Coming into my bar again… looking like that.” He says it like she’s a forbidden snack dangled in front of him, and she ponders it.

She is technically fully covered in a maroon turtleneck, black miniskirt, tights and boots, which doesn’t seem all that tempting… until she considers that he’s nearly fully covered too and has quite literally never been more attractive to her. He buzzes in her ear again—his mind, his aura, whatever the hell it is—and she finally remembers that he’s said something, wets her lips to speak.

“There’s no vampire bar in Bon Temps, or I’d probably be there,” she says with a sip of her drink. Okay, maybe not, she thinks as he leans into her space, tilting his body so that it’s him she’s looking up at instead of the art. No, either way she would probably find herself drawn here, to him.

“Why? Do you like vampire blood?” he asks seriously, almost like an interrogation, and she shakes her head, frowns.

“I don’t do drugs, and no vampire has ever offered it to me.” She wants to make sure she covers all her bases, is transparent in her knowledge of not only V as a commodity, but the ritual of bloodsharing that vampires sometimes perform with their companions. “Regardless, blood isn’t the reason I came.” 

“Did you come for me?” he asks, the tone of his voice the same but his expression more relaxed. She nods her head.

“Yes. I’ll do it – consult for you, work for you, whatever you want to call it.” It took her about two days to decide, then two more to get up the courage to come down to the bar and ask for what she believes she deserves—a problem she’s never had professionally before. Her answer earns her a change in posture, and Eric seems gratified by her response.

“You will? I’m pleased to hear that,” he says, and she nods her head, trying to ignore the way it warms her all over to know he’s happy with her choice.

“I have some stipulations,” she tells him directly, not intending to mince words, and he carefully takes the glass from her hand and sets it on a table behind them. The two middle aged humans who occupy it look absolutely thrilled at this sighting of a vampire in the wild, which makes Cam want to smile.

“I would expect no less. Let’s go into my office so we can be candid,” he suggests, gesturing toward the back of the bar, and he leads her through the crowd of bodies to the cluttered, unremarkable office with a hand hovering at her lower back.

“So what is it that you want from me? Explicitly,” she asks when he closes the door. “You know I’m a lawyer, so specific language is kind of my thing.” He pulls a chair out for her, then takes the seat on the other side of the desk and leans across it to speak.

“I would like to be able to call on you when I have a situation that could benefit from your gift—and I would like to be the only vampire who calls on you. That’s non-negotiable.” 

She’d expected the first part—not so much the second—but it’s nothing she’s unwilling to give.

“I can agree to exclusivity, but keep in mind that occasionally I will hear or see things whether I want to or not; if I come upon a vampire matter, I’ll inform you and let you decide how to proceed. If it’s not a vampire matter, I’ll provide the information to whomever I see fit.”

“Okay, yes,” Eric agrees easily, and then he backtracks for a moment, looking curious. “Hear or see?”

“Well, thoughts aren’t always just a string of words, you know? Often they include images, memories, even vague feelings. What I do, it’s kind of a mixture of all those things.”

“That’s… good to know,” he says, and he taps his fingers against the desk. “It’s also important to me that you make yourself available when I need you; as you know, I only do business between sunset and sunrise. If I’m calling upon you, I have deemed it important, and I expect to take priority over other things you may be doing—anything short of a life and death emergency.”

“That’s fair,” she says, though she wonders if they should take a moment to formally define life and death emergency in case it comes up in the future. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “See? No threats or manipulation necessary.” 

It’s playful, now, his tone of voice, and she answers it with a slightly skeptical smile.

“And what are you willing to give me in exchange?” 

“Anything,” he says, and it sounds earnest; he splays his arms wide like he’s gesturing not just to the room, but beyond it to the bar, the city, the world. “Anything. Money, blood, drugs, sex, protection, power—whatever you want.”

All of those things come with a hefty price tag, she thinks—and part of her has to wonder if her gift, as he called it, is actually worth it. The short list of demands she was fully prepared to fight for just an hour ago seems to pale in comparison to how important he thinks she will be.

“I would expect to be compensated in the event you come to me and I am involved in solving a problem, but I also need a retainer. Nothing outrageous, but if I’m going to be at your beck and call I won’t be able to commit to a regular job.”

“Of course,” he says easily, like the financials don’t matter to him in the slightest. She’s dealt with wealthy clients before, of course, even wealthy vampire clients, but his flippancy adds another layer of surrealism to the already surprising conversation. Should she ask for a luxury car, a yacht, season tickets to see the Saints? “What else?” 

She’d considered this next point, and then abruptly un-considered it, felt she was asking too much… but given his promise of anything, she feels bold again. Like she could actually have the upper hand.

“I want protection—your protection. If I’m in real danger, and I call for you, I want you to be the one who comes for me.”

Eric raises an eyebrow, looks over her face carefully. It’s like he’s regarding some part of her for the first time, his gaze lingering.

“Do you anticipate being in danger often?”

“No, but I made enemies in Chicago, and you know how word travels in those circles. There are certain groups who aren’t fond of what I’ve done—and it’s possible there will be people who don’t approve of my employment here. I’d just like to know I’ll be safe, if I’m going to make working for you my priority.” 

She exhales, feeling a bit less confident than when they started this, but Eric just makes a thoughtful sound and says, “It’s yours. Anything else?” he asks, and she considers that a win and stands up, feeling instantly intimidated when he stands too, tall and dark and strong. It’s so much easier to do business with him when they’re sitting down, when he’s on her level, or as close to her level as he will ever be.

“No, I think that’s it,” she says, and she sticks her hand out to shake, feeling oddly formal as she does. As a lawyer, she would have preferred the security of a contract, but that’s not the way most vampires operate and she knows better than to suggest it; that could be seen as an indication that she doesn’t find him trustworthy. A handshake, his word and hers, will have to do.

Looking into her eyes, he reaches out and takes her hand in his, shakes for a moment and then holds it there for just a beat too long before pulling away. She walks toward the door, and then, when the thought strikes her, she turns back to face him once more.

“Actually, there is one more thing,” she says, and as he walks closer she can’t help flashing back to his offer of sex—thank god she’s the one with the power of telepathy and not the other way around. “Could you help me find a decent apartment somewhere between here and Bon Temps? Sookie’s a great roommate, but I can’t stand that drafty old house.” And all of its memories. 

“Consider it done,” he tells her, and she nods her head and leaves the bar, climbs into her car, and definitely doesn’t pump her fist in the air when she stops at the red light at the end of the block.

Two days later, a FedEx driver actually drops off an employment contract—it was silly of her to assume he wouldn’t also want their terms in writing—along with a slip of paper, upon which is written an address and a phone number, and a key.

The first night she spends in her new apartment—which is truly perfect, bright and white and airy, with tons of nearby green space and amenities—there is a knock at the door. When she opens it, Eric is on the other side, in a leather jacket and jeans, holding a bottle of wine with an expensive French label. She looks him over, and he does the same, making her feel a little self conscious in her bike shorts and oversized t-shirt, ponytail, bare feet.

“Eric—what a nice surprise,” she says, and it really is nice, and surprising. She never would have anticipated him coming to her without needing something—assuming he doesn’t need something now. The wine would be an odd touch, but as always with vampires, nothing’s out of the question.

“I just wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood,” he replies. 

Cam had been slightly suspicious when the very first listing he sent her was a mere five miles from his bar, but when she considered his request for her exclusive availability, she figured it made enough sense not to question him any further.

“You did that when you paid my rent. For a year,” she tacks on, her tone admonishing, because that was not part of the employment contract. A faint smile lifts his lips. 

“Consider it a sign-on bonus.” The air between them feels oddly charged, and then she tunes into it, realizes it’s that static that seems to follow him around. He shifts where he stands. “I brought you a bottle of wine. A housewarming gift,” he explains, handing it to her, and she wraps her fingers around the neck and pulls it close with a smile of her own.

“Thank you. Would you like to come in and have a glass with me?” 

It’s clear by the look on his face he hadn’t been expecting that—probably didn’t expect to be invited into her home unless it was absolutely necessary for her protection in the future—but he nods, and when she takes a step back he crosses the threshold, closes the door behind him, and follows her to the kitchen.

“Are you sure this one is okay? The neighbors are so… close together,” he remarks of her new townhouse, and she bends to sort through a box full of kitchen gadgets, pulling out the corkscrew after a few seconds of rummaging.

“Oh, trust me, it’s great. My apartment in Chicago was little more than a shoebox with windows, and there’s a pool here, and a park nearby. I really appreciate everything you did.” 

She opens the bottle, pulls two glasses down from the cabinet—the only cabinet she’d managed to fully unpack—and carries them over to the table, where Eric has already settled into a dining chair. He looks uncomfortable, tall and stiff and alert, like this is all a little too human for his taste.

“Still, it seems like you miss things there,” he says as she pours them each a serving, and she shrugs, then sinks down into the seat next to his with her leg tucked beneath her. 

“Things haven’t been very good there for the last couple years, so I’m actually happy to have a fresh start.” She takes a sip of her wine, full-bodied and earthy with a peppery finish, and can’t help the sigh of pleasure she expels. “My god, that’s good.” She says it with the hint of a smile, something he casually reciprocates. 

“I had a feeling you would like it,” is all he says, but when he takes a sip his eyes fall closed, and he seems to let it sit on his tongue a moment before continuing the conversation. 

“So what kinds of things do you anticipate calling on me for?” she asks later, as they are finishing their second glass. Eric takes a moment to gather his thoughts, and she thinks it’s because he’s choosing his words intentionally, for her benefit.

“Mostly to confirm my suspicions if I think a human is being deceptive; I have some human employees, and I make business deals with others. Sometimes I need to know if my patrons are lying—if they’re underage, or looking for V, or conspiring against us. As sheriff, sometimes vampires come to me with human problems as well—it would be easier to deal with them if I had you available to me.” 

“That sounds fair,” she says, appreciating his careful explanation. She shifts in her seat. “At my old firm they called me the human lie detector… they just didn’t know quite how close they were to the truth.” 

“It must be difficult, to hear all the things you hear,” he says, and she nods her head in agreement.

“It can be, but I’ve gotten fairly used to it over time. Taught myself to control it instead of letting it bother me.” Things are quiet for a moment, and she takes the opportunity to say something that’s been on her mind since he arrived. “I feel a little uneasy about asking for your protection the other day. I think I may have asked too much of you,” she says with a frown. “I know you’re busy with the bar, and as sheriff, that a lot of people rely on you, and I’m not sure it’s fair of me to make such an extravagant request.”

It takes some effort for her to be able to look up at him instead of focusing on her glass, but when she does he seems thoughtful, his eyes serious but gentle.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I thought it would disrupt my other obligations. No harm will come to you while you’re under my employ, I promise.” She nods, placated by his reassurances, and he taps a finger against the tabletop. “You said you’ve taught yourself how to control your gift. Can you… hear vampires?” 

His tone is reserved, but hopeful, and she grimaces.

“No offense, but vampire minds are kind of empty. My guess it has to do with electrical impulses, or lack thereof. Technically, I can hear you, but it’s like white noise, sometimes, or tinnitus. I don’t get any actual thoughts.” She ponders his question for a moment, wonders if that unique buzzing she picks up when he’s around is his mind, or something different. “Touching helps with humans, though. I can rewind a little bit, see memories instead of just what’s playing live, if that makes sense; maybe it would help me hear something from you?” 

Eric stretches his arm across the table, his bare hand palm up, and she slides hers over it after a cautious moment. She presses their skin together and lets her eyes glance over his face, listening carefully, searching. It feels like a very, very long time passes, and a lot of static, but eventually she finds a moment, a phrase or sentence among the near silence.

“Ӓr du död?” she murmurs, and while she can’t see anything, she can feel the heat of flames nearby. It warms her hand where it turns to ice against Eric’s. His brow furrows in recognition, and she exhales, blinks. “I don’t know the language. What does it mean?”

“It’s Swedish. ‘Are you death?’ It’s the first thing I said to Godric, my Maker, before he turned me,” he admits, his voice serious and somber. Cam inhales sharply at that knowledge.

“Wow. I can’t imagine I’ve ever gone back further than a few days that way, let alone…” 

“A thousand years, give or take.” He answers her unspoken question with a deeply curious expression. “That was among the last of my human memories, so I suppose it makes sense that you can see it.”

“I can feel it, too,” she says, and she wraps her fingers around his, searching for more, for a deeper connection. She closes her eyes this time, in hopes it strengthens the memory. “I can feel the heat from a fire. And I can feel that you’re dying. You’re cold inside, but your skin is warm.” 

“Tell me more,” he says, his voice barely there. He tightens his grip on her hand.

“There’s a man there, a very young man, and you’re not happy with him… but you aren’t afraid of him, either. He has a strangely calming presence; you’re not sure if he’s an angel or the devil.”

“Godric.” His Maker. He looks strangely young for a vampire, vulnerable, and though he’s short, he towers over Eric in his memory, eyes deep and dark and full of possibility.

“Through your eyes, he looks larger than life,” she says softly, and his fingers flex. Even if she hadn’t known Godric was his Maker, the way this man makes him feel is as clear as any emotion she’s felt herself. He is death and life, the end and the beginning. 

“He is,” Eric says—not was, she takes note of that—and when he starts to pull back she releases his hand and lets hers drop to the tabletop. She feels tapped out after that, exhausted, and Eric nods his head once in her direction. “That is a remarkable gift you have.”

“It’s something,” she says casually, as if she didn’t just travel over a thousand years in her mind and pull out his last memory of human life, as if she didn’t feel like she was inside him, a part of him, his heart, his head, his hands. She sits there, speechless for a moment, and then Eric takes a deep, exaggerated breath.

“Well, I should get back to Fangtasia—I’m happy to see you’re settling in,” he tells her, and when he stands she stands, walks him to the door. It closes behind him, and she feels both strangely invigorated by his presence, and deeply conflicted by his departure.

At Fangtasia, Pam waits for Eric at the front door. 

“Where have you been?” she asks, her heels clicking on the floor as she follows him back to the office. The crowd naturally parts for them, and though Eric probably attributes it to his aura—he’s been acting strangely woo-woo lately, talking about witches and energy and vibrations and the like—it’s more likely his huge, hulking frame and the fact that his expression alone would kill, if such a thing were possible. “You know I find it distasteful to be left alone with the humans for so long.” 

“I had an errand to run,” he says, but he smells like wine and the girl, there’s no mistaking it. Errands, her perky ass. 

“How is she?” she asks as he slides into the chair behind the desk, stretching back so he can hook his ankles over the edge of the desk. It’s even worse than manspreading. He looks up at her like he’s not sure what she means, and she crosses her arms over her chest and blinks. “Our new employee. Camila. That’s who you were with, isn’t it?” 

“You don’t care how she is,” is all he says in response, and she leans over and smacks his boots so his feet fall to the floor. Pam knows that only happened because he let it, and she bites back a fond smile.

“No, I don’t, but apparently you do. I thought you were obsessed with Sookie when she came along, but this girl has you… buying apartment buildings, and promising your protection, and you’ve barely known her for a week.” 

She hopes he doesn’t take her tone for jealousy, because it’s not, not really; she’s just never seen him this infatuated, and it’s freaking her out a little, if she’s being honest. Like it or not, her life, her comfort, relies very heavily on Eric and his… happiness isn’t quite the right word, but when he is content, her nights tend to be much smoother, more enjoyable all around. She gets to drink from an endless supply of young, willing, rich-blooded partygoers instead of traipsing around the woods and ruining her favorite pumps, or trapping moronic anti-vampers and using them to set an example for their friends.

“You have no idea how important she is going to be. No idea,” he repeats, and his voice has that strangely mystical quality about it again, a faint undertone of magic that hovers around its edges. He’s been to see a witch, she thinks, or had his fortune told, something that’s led him to believe this girl and her gift are crucial to whatever he has planned. It sends a chill down her spine that she’s unable to fight. “Her gift is going to make us unconquerable.”

After a long pause, he pulls out his laptop from the top drawer, opens it, which she knows is equivalent to dismissing her, and she sighs softly and makes her way back out to the floor. 

“I cannot believe you’re working for Eric,” Sookie says as she hangs a handful of pressed skirts in Cam’s bedroom closet. Her typical uniform is very different from Sookie’s, the blonde notices. Across the room, Cam carefully arranges gold jewelry in a tiered acrylic box with satin lined drawers.

“It’s as close as I can get to my old job for now, and I’m not really in a position to be picky, or I wouldn’t have come back to Louisiana at all—no offense,” she throws over her shoulder. Sookie tuts and waves her hand.

“None taken. I know where my heart is,” she assures her cousin. Like all small town girls, Sookie sometimes kicks herself for never leaving Bon Temps, but more often than not she loves her hometown, its history, her family’s legacy. 

Gran’s, at least.

She grabs a pile of folded sweaters in cashmere and various knits, stacks them in the space above the closet rod. “Aren’t you at all worried he’s going to use you to hurt people?” 

Behind her, Cam takes a long, careful breath and turns to face Sookie.

“One thing you have to understand—especially if you and Bill are in it for the long haul—is that vampire justice is different. I know it shouldn’t be, but until now they've been non-existent in terms of conventional law. They have their own systems in place—hierarchies, rules, punishments—and we can’t step in and tell them how to behave overnight just because we think we know better.” 

Sookie shoots her a look—as pro-vamp as she is, she admits she’s not comfortable accepting their more violent tendencies, especially where humans are involved. Cam only shrugs. 

“I’m going to defer to Eric’s expertise as sheriff, but I’ll call it like I see it. If he’s being unnecessarily cruel or unjust, I’m not afraid to discuss it with him. If his actions seem to be aligned with the usual nature of his business, I’ll excuse myself.” She walks toward the bed, picks up a pile of panties, mostly black, and places them into the top drawer of a light-colored dresser. When she turns back to Sookie, it’s clear that Cam can read the expression on her face, one of thinly-veiled awe. “What?” she asks, and Sookie smiles, shakes her head. 

“I don't know, I guess… Just, when did you get so confident? So smart, so sure of yourself?” Cam had always been the leader, strong where Sookie was soft, sure where Tara was uncertain, and though Sookie feels like they’ve all come into their own in recent years, she is so pleasantly surprised at the absolute stunner her cousin has become—physically and intellectually. She feels as proud as Cam’s mom would if she were around, Sookie’s sure.

“It’s been a long ten years, Sookie,” is all Cam says, and though she can tell there is more to that statement, she can also sense that now isn’t the time to get into that. Later, someday. 

“Yeah, it has. I just wish I was half as comfortable as you in this new world… sometimes I think I stick out like a sore thumb,” Sookie admits, lifting a stack of shoe boxes and lining them up on the floor of the closet. Cam steps over to join her, adds a couple pairs of boots, and puts her hand on Sookie’s shoulder.

“You’re like a sunflower growing among dead grass. It’s not a bad thing to stick out,” she promises with a smile that crinkles the corner of her eyes, and Sookie pats her hand in gratitude continues to help her settle in.

[russilton]

i am genuinely so curious about your opinion as to why you think merc likes george as much as williams. not to cause discourse but i would actually love to change my mind if george is going to be there for god knows how long.

my impression has always been that merc likes george, but williams loves george. that he is merc's guy but williams' BABY.

(like ngl they didn't make any effort to stop the cyber bullying during the season on his own team's page, which might be minor but it rubs a lot of people the wrong way)

I think it comes down to less weighing up social post vs social post, which is what people often do, and more remembering that both Williams and Mercs socials function fundamentally differently.

Also you can still like whatever teams you want- this post is not me arguing to not support Williams, I still support Williams, I’m just gonna talk about some ways Merc HAVE supported George, and Williams have been the less idealised version people sometimes remember.

We have for a while seen more jokey silly, vloggy content from Williams socials (at least from 2019 on), while we are still, STILL, teaching Merc to pull the stick out of their ass and stop holding themselves to such an aloof standard from 2020 on- compared to other teams. Merc were winning for a long time, they didn’t need to appeal to people they way they now have to as a team winning less and advertising a new driver.

Meanwhile Williams had NOTHING going on for a long time, they were fighting for 19th/20th, all they could do to sell their team to sponsors was provide content people talked about. Mercedes had the name power of Lewis Hamilton, Williams only had George and Nicky for two years- two junior drivers people didn’t know.

I also just… I personally don’t gauge love based on social content alone, since it’s usually run by 2-3 people who have to put out positive content, it’s designed to make you think they love them as much as they can.

Arguably Williams never HAD to defend George the way people want Merc to, vitriolic fan tweets scaled up massively in the 2021 season and Williams was a back of the field team, plenty of people barely knew George existed. George entered Merc at the most controversial time he could, when Max fans were filling their replies with slurs and Lewis fans demanded to know why the fuck we weren’t fighting for a reclassification at the championship- something we now know why they couldn’t but still hurt. When you watch an entire sport break the rules to fuck you, you start making unreasonable demands to do anything to get back at them and make it hurt less. Merc will never satisfy them, and if anything when Merc DID step up to defend George in Singapore and Qatar- people just got madder at George.

When you look down at the team behaviour as a whole… I would really counter your point about George being Williams baby- because he’s been Merc’s baby for double that time.

George was beloved by engineers, drivers, mechanics and upper staff alike, including Nicki Lauda who notoriously used to go to George’s junior series podiums when they supported F1, took him to a black eye peas concert, and called him the future of Merc. He was coached by Val and particularly Lewis on how to drive, George still mentions Lewis’ coaching as what secured his f2 championship and had him coming back from the summer break reborn. The likes of shov, Bono, James v and Mike Sansoni used to tease George lovingly when he did rookie tests for Merc, invited him to run club and team dinners, George even went to the Merc team bowling nights Lewis organised.

My point is, all of the ways Williams yes, does show public past support for George… Merc were doing that behind the scenes. It may seem like they don’t share stuff from George’s Williams past- they don’t have the licenses to show some of those photos, and given that socials are a brand promotion exercise that just serves to promote a team that’s not your own. But in a practical sense they were inviting George into their family and making sure he always felt at home.

You just have to listen to George himself- he said so often last year how he didn’t feel much like he had to settle into Merc because he’d always been with them, long before he was an F1 driver. They are his family, and this is always what HE wanted.

I also have to look at how they treated George trust wise. In 2020 Mercedes trusted George to drive the fastest car in the sports history, Lewis’ car, when he was sick. They skipped over their TWO reserve drivers, Stoffel Vandoorne and Nyck De Vries, to give George a shot, and had to bargain with Williams to borrow him for Sakhir, when arguably Stoff and Nyck would have done more sim work than him.

At the same time, Jost Capito and Williams were trying to find a way to get out of their contract with George for 2021, because they were annoyed George was planning to leave them for Mercedes, and wanted to start working with someone “committed” to them, to the point they approached Kmag about the seat (in his book, Kmag says he called them idiots for it).

It’s theorised George only kept his seat by virtue of the incredibly strict contract Claire Williams tied him into, and Toto/James Vowles threatening Williams within an inch of it’s life. It wasn’t lost on me in the 20/21 season how Jost tended to not always blame their dog shit car for the poor performances, but George and Nicky for not doing more. Hell the way he portioned money in the team was so poor JV is appealing to the FIA for a special grant to upgrade their factory. In 2021 George DNF’d SIX times, mostly mechanical, you can see him disparing in dts about their borderline undrivable performance, but very little changed- but when a fuck up happened they looked right at the drivers.

Meanwhile, Mercedes saw exactly the kind of driver George was trying to be even through the worst car on the grid, and hired him anyway. I’ve seen teams outright throw drivers to the curb for performances they had very little fault in. You can feel how you want about Nicholas Latifi’s confidence in his driving in 22, Williams gave him a car even George struggled to place in for two fucking years, one year with a car Alex just about got by in, and then replaced him with Sargent, who placed lower in F2 than Nicky did.

Nicky has moved on, Williams ARE doing right by Logan now, but a lot of people are only seeing the Williams James Vowles has run. James Vowles who was at Mercedes… longer than Toto. If you want to base Williams current love of George on him, you’re basing it in a reflection of the James who worked with Gwen lagrue to support George for Merc.

You can still love how Williams love George! I do! I like current Williams and I miss James Vowles at Merc so much, but he’s flourishing leading Williams and it’s incredible. I like how silly Williams are sometimes, how they put themselves out on a limb more- but ultimately they have had to make less hard and controversial choices than Merc has, and the one time they did (Hungary 21) George took the choice from them and asked them to prioritise Nicky. Merc has had make choices nobody wants to make- and often panicked and straddled the line in a way nobody was happy with. But to call back to a post @ininininininstayoutstayout made once- when both sides come out of a choice complaining they got fucked over, ultimately you have to reevaluate what the team really could have done because nothing would have pleased everyone.

You can be upset with some of the choices Merc made with George on track over the last couple years, I have been mad at them myself. You can be angry at the mistakes they made with the sakhir pit stop and countless other strategic fuck ups- but none of those were intended results. Nobody at Merc has deliberately targeted George (OR Lewis) for poor treatment, nor did they WANT to make the boys a shitty car.

At the end of the day Merc as a brand poured hundred of thousands or maybe millions into supporting George as a Junior, Toto lead him the the Williams seat, the engineers and mechanics continued to develop him and train him and invite him into the factories and their travel team. He went out to dinner with them, tested their cars. They chose him over Valtteri, who was arguably the safe choice, trusted him, and now George is on their team they support him. Sometimes at a booming volume when George was adjusting, or then punishing himself for things like Singapore or possible controversies like Qatar.

Arguing Merc don’t adore George is like arguing that they don’t love Lewis- if you only look at specific circumstances you can build that idea- but if you look at the longer history it’s abundantly clear that Merc’s employees do fucking love them, they’re just an organisation not a monolith, and really stupid choices happen. And as much as I hate Jost capito, Toto is just as prone to bullshit, just with less “funny”stories about sexually assaulting his employees.

People who want George to go back to Williams are covering over just wanting him to face less backlash, and have less eyes on him, gatekeeping him almost for comfort. I get the impulse, but it’s not what George wants, what he’s fought for, for almost a decade.

Merc are giving him a chance at what he wants, and as bumpy as it’s been it’ll only pave his story as an underdog fight rather than a gifted ride, and they’re doing all that they can to put he and Lewis back up there.

[forlorn-crows]

YOU DEMAND GHOULETTES AND I HAVE ARRIVEN WITH OPTIONS

GIMME MOMMY DOMME CUMULUS

OR

GIMME SUNSHINE GETTING THROATFUCKED BY CIRRUS'S STRAP

OR

GIMME A SOPPING WET SHOWER THREESOME

C'MON BITCH G I M M E

IM HERE TO BE NASTY, ALSO THANKS TO THIS ANON:

FOR SUGGESTING NIPPLE CLAMPS.

its is filthy wet nasty hours, my dudes. dommy mommy cumulus under the cut.

Cumulus loves to serve. She loves to get bruises on her knees, marks on her throat. She loves to have her face shoved into a wet cunt, fingers tangled in her curls. She’s a giver, and that’s what she does best. Cumulus also loves to be spoiled. She loves to be laid out between her lovers, hands caressing her soft body. Kisses on her tummy, on her cheeks, on her breasts, on her hips. She loves to be treated like an altar at which to be worshipped carnally.

And sometimes, Cumulus likes to own—slip into something a little more intimidating, enthralling, and hauntingly devious. She has a gentle, commanding aura, one that Cirrus and Sunshine can never get enough of.

And so, the two ghoulettes find themselves under Cumulus tonight, following her desires with utter devotion.

“That’s a good girl. What sweet noises you make,” Cumulus coos at Cirrus who’s kneeled beneath her. Cirrus’ hands are placed firmly on her thighs where she’s been told to keep them, despite the fact she’s almost falling onto the floor with the way Cumulus pulls on the chain connected to the clamps on her pert, reddened nipples. Goosebumps dimple the surrounding flesh each time she tugs, followed by breathy moans behind bitten lips.

“My, look how wet you are, my cloud,” Cumulus purrs. And it’s true—Cirrus’ pale blue panties are darkened, almost see-through, clinging to the outline of her folds. It’s the result of what feels like hours of stimulation, every sensation a hot spike of pleasure running from her breasts to her clit. Cumulus reaches down to cup one of her small breasts, framing a clamped nipple between the V of her fingers.

“Oh, oh fuck,” she moans, loud and wanton. The patch of slick gets darker between her legs.

Cumulus hums. She flicks the flushed bud just to watch her squirm a little before rising back up.

“I think she could cum just like this, don’t you Sunny?”

“Y-yeah,” Sunshine breathes from her spot next to Cumulus’ leg. She’s completely fixated on Cirrus, slack-jawed and eyes glassy. Cumulus runs a finger along her short horns, falsely soothing, before wrapping her hand around the appendage and yanking Sunshine’s head back. She gasps, pale column of her throat exposed and craned so her face is pointed upwards.

“Full words, Sunny,” she warns.

“Yes, ma’am.” It’s whispered like a confession.

Cumulus smiles. “Beautiful job. Now get behind Cirrus, won’t you?” She releases the smaller ghoulette’s horn, giving her a light nudge with her foot. Sunshine moves behind Cirrus so she’s positioned between her thighs, back pressed against her chest. Cirrus groans at the contact and lets her head fall back onto Sunshine’s shoulder.

“My girls. What did I do to deserve you?” The coolness of the metal chain kisses Cirrus’ skin as Cumulus steps closer. Sunshine’s eyes trail along the slack of the chain from Cirrus’ nipples, to the junction where the links meet, all the way up to the leather handle and midnight blue polish on Cumulus’ fingers.

She’s truly a sight to behold, standing over them. From this angle she’s all leg, fully encased in delicate, black lace. The jumpsuit highlights all her curves, still radiant in the dark fabric. Sunshine continues to track her eyes down to the very bottom of her heeled feet and all the way up to the very top of her icy-blonde ponytail.

“Hands on her waist, Sunny. And put your head over her shoulder. I want you to watch.” Sunshine does as she’s told, snaking her palms around Cirrus’ middle and resting her chin in the  open space of her neck.

Cirrus thighs start to shake as Cumulus closes the distance between them, putting a hand on the side of her cheek. “Head up, my cloud.” Reluctantly, Cirrus drags her head up and looks at her through lidded eyes. Cumulus runs her thumb along Cirrus’ bottom lip, plush and smooth. She lets her mouth fall open, jaw dragging down under Cumulus’ touch.

“You’re so pliant like this. Pretty.” Cumulus draws closer still, mouth inches from Cirrus’. Just as their lips could meet, she pulls Cirrus’ mouth open further and spits into it, warm saliva straight onto her tongue.

Cirrus whines in shock, high and reedy. Cumulus taps the bottom of her chin, forcing her mouth to close. “Swallow. Whore.” She barely has time to register the command before Cumulus is pulling on the clamps again, short little bursts that take her breath away. It’s enough to almost make her choke on the spit running down her throat. It doesn’t help that now Sunshine’s body is pressed up against her, warm palms at her sides, chest heaving against her back.

“You two are such a pretty sight.” They nod their heads in quick agreement. Cirrus’ clit is throbbing now, slick steadily soaking into her panties and coating the very inside of her thighs. She really could come like this, and she thinks she probably will.

Each tug is erratic, unpredictable. Some are slow and smooth, with even pressure; others are sharp, quick, and laced with beautiful agony. Cumulus adjusts the clamps a few times to ensure they wrap around every part of her nipple.

Cirrus trembles with each wave of pleasure, struggling to keep her head up and eyes open. Moans tumble from her mouth, each punctuated with a heavy breath from Sunshine on her collarbone.

Cumulus can read her like a book, especially with the way her thighs shake and her stomach jumps. “Close, aren’t you, darling?”

The words are heavy on her tongue. But she manages to get them out: “Yes, ma’am.”

“Play with her tits, Sunny.” Sunshine nods, moving her shaking hands up to Cirrus breasts. She cups them gently, slotting the clamps between her fingers. She presses a kiss to Cirrus’ cheek as an afterthought and squeezes.

“Unholy shit, fuck,” Cirrus cries, canting her hips against the air.

Cumulus pulls again, long and hard. “Such a slutty mouth on you, Cir.”

“Uh huh,” she whines, fingers digging crescent marks into the flesh of her thighs.

Cumulus kneels in front of her, dragging downward now. “Gonna cum for me, darling?”

“Please please, y-yes, ma’am.”

Sunshine’s hands knead into her breasts, each press and squeeze lighting up her sensitive nerves. Cumulus runs her hand over them too, feather light in contrast to the way she pulls on the clamps. Cirrus knows what’s coming, anticipation shooting down her spine.

Cumulus runs the pad of her finger over her nipples, caressing the tip of each one and smiling at the way Cirrus writhes under her touch. She leans in close and hovers her mouth just above Cirrus’ pulse point on the side opposite Sunshine.

“Such a good girl,” she purrs before she sucks on the spot, pinching and twisting over the clamps simultaneously.

Cirrus cries out and spasms between them. Hot fluid seeps into her panties and gushes from her cunt onto the wooden floor, pooling between her knees. Sunshine moans in her ear as she watches her twitch and gasp through her orgasm, flush creeping from her neck to her collarbones.

Cumulus pulls back and releases her hands from the clamps, admiring the wreck of a ghoulette before her. She waits for Cirrus to take a normal breath, chest heaving with the effort of sucking in a normal amount of air. Cumulus removes the clamps then and looks down at the underwear now completely translucent against Cirrus’ soaked cunt. She can just see the outline of her engorged clit, still throbbing in the aftermath.

“Oh darling, what a mess you’ve made,” she coos, slightly mean. She rises back to her full height and looms above them, ethereal and intimidating.

“Help her clean it up, won’t you Sunny?”

[nosolaceofastraightanswer]

happy pride month!!!! anyway tua pride headcanons cus i want to lol :P *note- i do not identity with all of these labels. i cannot give you a personal experience or defense for these. if i include any harmful stereotypes, lmk. it’s pride month and queer people are valid*

quick overview, analysis below the readmore

luther- he/him cishet

diego- he/him cis and bicurious

allison- she/her cishet

klaus- he/she (they sometimes) genderqueer/enby, pansexual

five- they/he gay and ace. agender.

ben- he/him cishet

viktor- he/they transmasc lesbian

for some i used the canonical pronouns as to not confuse before i get the explanation. <33333

luther- to me he’s like a cishet guy honestly. i still love the pride hc’s other people have, bc most of the time they’re really good. i just prefer this reading, espec. with sloane (QUEEN!!!!). i also don’t like the s1 era fics where everyone hated luther (almost entirely unjustified) so they would make him be a dick to klaus and stuff. like did he drink reggie’s kool aid? yes. but is he homophobic? no. i think a better example in a canonical kid fic of him saying mean things to klaus for plot would be like,, making fun of him for being a druggie or lazy, because that’s stuff that reginald would actually encourage him to say. rant over lmao that just has always bothered me.

diego- honestly this one is back and forth for me, between bisexual and straight. like him and lila being bi4bi is just too fucking amazing, but he does give off straight guy energy sometimes so i’ll put it at a bi-curious. he’s def an ally though, and i can imagine he would do his best to get over his fear of needles to help v with his t shots, or defend klaus from homophobic assholes. although i personally hc him as cis, the transmasc diego people have their fucking shit together because that HITS DIFFERENT. i think done right, it adds so much to his character in AU’s and stuff and it’s just rly cute!! but bisexual diego is a very fanon thing that i like to see.

allison- i think probably straight and cis once again. she seems very comfy and happy in her femininity and gender, and her with ray??? (sidenote almond as a ship name makes me lose it ITS SO CUTE). i think she’s always been a big ally to klaus. i can also see her as pan or bi, but pressured to appear as straight by the constant eyes on her since she was like ten. i mean not only was she the only girl, but also a black girl? she was 100% so insecure during her childhood because people were constantly critiquing her. so honestly i don’t think it would be too out of the ordinary to hc her as queer.

klaus- i mean, we all know this one. as far as i know he has been canonically (though not mentioned in show, more like an interview or something) pansexual and non-binary. if not then it’s VERY FANON. directly through the show, we see his attraction to men through dave and also his enjoyment of more feminine clothes and makeup and things like that. i hc him as genderqueer and just generally chilling out and not really caring too much about labels. like a “i’ll fuck you if you’re hot” kind of attitude.

five- now this one might get me some weirdness, but i don’t see five as a cishet man for my hc’ing purposes. a common fanon opinion is that he’s asexual, which i totally like. i also think he’s gay. i guess that would be homoromantic? and also agender. he said no. no. MEN. i think that any romantic hc that does not acknowledge delores is not doing it right, bc holy shit delores is so fucking important to the understanding of his character!!!!! i believe in the interpretation that delores is himself, but a separated part that he forced himself to view as a separate entity to survive the apocalypse. he kind of fucking tricked himself into loving himself, though unfortunately as many people have pointed out, he doesn’t see himself as capable of good. he doesn’t see that delores is him- he can’t. he was down bad though for his mannequin apocalypse wife okay??? they were in love fuck you???? idk sexuality is fluid. let this old man live his life. he’s so tired. also agender, i think they don’t like being called a boy (possibly childhood trauma, possibly gender) but still is okay with “old man”.

ben- he is the token cishet of the upper numbers trio ( 567 icons real and true ). the jennifer incident was heavily implied if not directly and canonically stated to be a romantic issue, and also him and jill!!!! yes it was weird but it was so cute. bring back umbrella ben istg idc about the themes you messed them up in s3 anyway. i would talk more about him BUT HE NEVER GOT ENOUGH FUCKING SCREENTIME EVER AND THE THEMES THE THEMES HIS CHARACTER THEY DIDN- gets shot

viktor- canonically transmasc, canonically a woman enjoyer, ten out of ten character. i love looking at s1 era fics where people would be like. there is no way this guy doesn’t like women. *lesbian headcanons*. and elliot page just slaying with the queer rep season after season. i think he/they pronouns for viktor is really good and i like it :)). also some people hc them as bi because of harold (or for weird reasons but we don’t talk about that-) but i think it’s more of a lesbian thing personally. now. don’t come after me i’m not looking for he/him lesbian discourse on my pride month fandom post. AND FURTHERMORE elliot page is a king and he doesn’t deserve in any way the crazy hate he gets for being trans. trans men are men, trans ppl are valid etc. that being said, i hc him as a he/they lesbian. RESPECTFULLY. i imagine there were a lot of complicated factors while he was coming out and realizing things about themself. i think the harold thing was wanting to be wanted and loved more that actually wanting or loving, and you know we all gotta have that spicy *heteronormativity* woohoo.

bonus LILA (queen)- bisexual!! also she/they hc’s are valid asf for that. we love a queen who can do both. not sure if this is partial or full canon, or just heavy fandom but idc.

okay byyeeee happy pride month and also have a good juneteenth. black lives matter!!!!!

[ohyespotatous]

Nisa!! how are you? this is just me popping in to give you a boop 💙 I saw your recent post, so glad you've been feeling better, I hope you're completely recovered soon!!

I also wanted to ask, what are some of your fav pieces of literature? I'd love to hear about a book or even just a few lines that have changed your life <3

hope you've been doing well!! lots of love ^=^

Oh my god, Meg!!! Hi~ *boop back 😻

I'm recovered now! Well, I might never fully recover; it's like my regular guest now haha. But I'm in a good state right now! And I'll try my best to keep fit for a long time :) Thanks for checking up on me! How about you? I hope you're happy and healthy always! Good luck with your internship and masters and everything!! 💪❤

Also, thank you for asking about my fav pieces of literature! This is my favorite topic to talk about. So... Uhm.. where do I start? :v

First, it's not easy to discuss literature without separating the works and the authors. Like other types of art, despite their marvelous works, sometimes the artists are not the best people. There's this prose that's close to my heart, but it was written by a problematic author, so it doesn't feel right to discuss it :(

But, if we talk about literature that changed my life, I think I should pay tribute to one of the first books I read. They inspired me to study hard and pursue my dream. It's called The Rainbow Troops by Andrea Hirata. I read it when I was 13 or 14. 

It's about the journey of ten motley students from a tiny elementary school in a rural area trying to pursue their dreams; and their two teachers. One of the teachers calls them the Rainbow Troops because they love to stare at the sky after rain and admire the magnificence of the rainbow.  

These students come from poverty-stricken families, and their school constantly faces threats of closure due to government officials, greedy corporations, natural disasters, and the lack of students' self-confidence. For most of us, school might be a struggle. However, for them, access to education is a luxury. One of the smartest students has to ride his bicycle 40 kilometers over a red gravel road to school daily. His sandals—made of car tires—burnt from pedaling for so long. 

I kept the money carefully in my pocket and never let go of it. Suddenly everyone looked like a thief. Money, indeed, has a cruel influence. – Chapter 40, My Promise to Bu Mus 

I was disappointed that so many intelligent children were forced to leave school for economic reasons. I cursed all of the stupid people who arrogantly acted smart. I hated those children of the rich who threw away their educations. – Chapter 46, His Third Promise

-

Gosh, the discrimination towards the lower class frustrated me! But their innocent childhood and the dynamic of rural life warm my heart. Their friendship and persistence in pursuing their dreams were also inspiring. 

But what I know for sure from my own experience at the poor school is that a hard-working life is like picking up fruit from a basket with a blindfold on. Whatever fruit we end up getting, at least we have fruit. Meanwhile, life without hard work is like looking for a black cat in a dark room with closed eyes, and the cat is not even there. – Chapter 48, Don't Give Up

I decided on my dream college right after I finished the book. Was I accepted to that school? Yes, in four years. Did I succeed in graduating from that school? That's a different story lol.

But anyway, it might not be the fanciest literature I've ever read, but it surely has a place in my heart. 

Sorry for the long answer >,< But thanks so much for the ask, Meg!!! It really made my day~ hehe 🐈💌🌿

[apuff]

@sagaofa-dying-star thanks for the tag!!! rewriting the post because it's long asf

 Do you have freckles?  everyone has a little freckles. but i dont have too many

 Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it?  i only drink southern style sweet tea bc we never have any good hot tea around

What was the last song you listened to?  MAMA APPARENTLY?? i was on that black parade grind i guess

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side?  stomach usually but sometimes i go for the recovery position

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?  yes

Do you prefer drawing or writing?  probably drawing but i like writing too

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with?  i have 6 blankets in my bed and it's not enough

What’s your favorite band/artist?  ahem. aheem. hehe. my chemical romance

When is your birthday?  am i not supposed to say this for internet safety-? anyways its in december

How tall are you?  5'2 is on my id but my family says im taller than that

What color are your eyes?  green 😏😏i have the rarest eye color 😏😏😏

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now?  two of my online friends one of my irl friends one of my mutuals and one person i don't even like but probably really needs it

Fears?  im afraid of people i love dying, being in trouble, being late, and tape measures.

What’s your favorite color?  green BUT I LIKE ALL OF THEM

What’s your favorite season?  I LIKE ALL OF THEM

Want any tattoos? What of?  i kinda want some of those semi permanent ones that last for a few months of just random shit like band members and memes actually maybe i just want to draw on myself in sharpie

Want any piercings? Where?  i just want normal ear piercings :<

Who is the last person you texted?  my ex- camp roommate

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends?  yes me and my bestie have been friends for like two and a half years

What/who do you miss?  i miss having good breakfast at camp 😭😭 also i hate to say it but getting exercise. also going outside..

How was your day today?  pretty good

How much sleep did you get last night?  like eight or something

Do you believe in aliens?  y'all. the universe is REALLY big. there's gotta be some alien bacteria hanging out on SOME planet SOMEWHERE

When was the last time you cried? Why?  yesterday because of algebra 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️muhammad ibn musa al-khwarizmi when i FUCKING CATCH YOU ITS OVER

What’s your favorite decade?  2020s- if i had to pick something else it would be 2000s

What are some seemingly childish things you like?  laughing at my reflection in spoons (i highly recommend doing this btw)

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times?  i like too many books to count and i have read hp and pjo too many times to count, but recently ive wanted to reread the outsiders so much i go to bed thinking about it and wake up thinking about it

How are you, really?  fine but every other time in my life i have thought i was fine i have been very mentally ill in retrospect so 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

Does it take you a long time to make decisions?  depends on the type of decision..

What are you looking forward to in the near future?  artfight being over

What are you looking forward to in the distant future?  moving out :v

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?  i am going to the house of my online friends

Do you sleep with your door open or closed?  who sleeps with the door open

What’s your favorite flower?  cherry blossom or lily of the valley

Do you currently have a squish?  i don't know what the difference is between this and just loving your friend, so, idk?

Do you like your middle name?  yeah, i actually use it as my internet and gaming name

Do you prefer dogs or cats?  cats, i respect dogs but they have no concept of personal space

Do you have any phobias?  y'all i really don't like tape measures

Do you stay up late? i consider 11 30 to be late but some of my friends stay up all night sooo its subjective i guess

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy?  yes; sunny beach is better because where i live the water is always freezing so you need it to be hot or else it's just miserable

What’s your favorite cartoon?  maybe she-ra

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs i'm already tagging my moots later.,/,/

Do you have siblings? How many?  i have 6 siblings

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to?  MYSELF- i am lonely right now

Is there anyone you would die for?  why is this such an intense question 😭😭😭probably no i'm a bit of a coward

What do you need when you’re sad?  gerard way but i need him all the time so

Have you memorized your phone number?  no and it haunts me every day

Who’s someone you can trust with your life?  myself (no offense)

What does your last text say?  just had the most transcendent sandwich on the way home

i know this one is really long so no pressure to do all of it OR do it at all LMAO @the-mighty-q @karineverse @the-mighty-mittens @sea-creeture @thankyouforthev3n0m @hopelesshardrockfan @wannabescemo @starbird06

[leedollop]

ʚ♡ɞ Unholy Antagonist Kisser ʚ♡ɞ

Hi hi! This is the Hazbin Hotel self shipping blog of @silver-heller, thanks for stopping by! I have a lot of F/Os in this series, but my main ones are Vox, Adam, Lucifer, and Alastor. I love those silly guys. Please read my DNI before following, and I can't wait to hear from you! I hope to make more self shipping Hazbin buddies and my asks are always open for gushing!

I am okay sharing F/Os unless you paint any of my F/Os as unredemptive or abusive.

���┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・DNI・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

This is an 18+ blog meaning no minors. Pro/shippers, minor x adult shippers, or incest shippers are not welcome. System unfriendly individuals, exclusionists, and bigots get out!

If you're rude about other's ships, yes, including ones that aren't self ships. I don't appreciate that kind of energy here. There are certainly ships I don't like, but my motto is just to leave it alone.

Yes, I do explore themes of sexual abuse within my fanfiction, particularly how it effects victims, but it is never glorified.

If you don't like H/azbin H/otel you're not welcome here. This is a discourse free blog. If you hate my F/Os you're entitled to your opinion but you're not welcome here either. V/oxV/al makes me extremely uncomfortable, please don't bring that here.

Keep in mind I like this show for its mature themes and explore these within my ships, fics, etc.

Religious takes on this show, quite frankly, make me very uncomfortable. I use this show to process things like the harm of purity culture, so don't bring support of such topics here.

For my own comfort, I will block you if your F/Os are from these sources: SAO (sword-art-online), R/ayman, J/ekyll and H/yde, and H/arry P/otter.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・F/O List・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Lee (S/I Info)

Orientation: Transman (he/him), asexual demiromantic biromantic

Personality: Quite shy and skittish, though also playful and mischievous.

Design notes: Looks like a pink plush dog with silver accents, several glowing dots for eyes that can sometimes change shape, and a speaker on his back.

Tag: #lee🐶🔌

(As drawn by @floofyboi57).

Vox

HC orientation: Bisexual demisexual biromantic

Status: Married

Design Note: Receiving a new TV head, Vox's screen is smaller and squarer. The colors are hazier, with Vox's face leaning more towards a deeper blue, his eyes towards their pink shades, and his black frame is lighter, though still black.

Below is my editing attempt to showcase the color differences.

Tag: #turnthetvon📺

Adam

HC orientation: Bisexual biromantic

Status: Married

Design Note: Since his time in Hell, Adam retains his goat horns, along with his now furry goat legs and hooves. He also now has adorable goat ears and a tail. His fur is the same color as his hair with a light sheen to it, and his horns and hooves are golden.

Tag: #getintoit🎸

Lucifer

HC orientation: Pansexual panromantic

Status: Married

Tag: appleduck🍎

Alastor

HC orientation: Asexual demiromantic biromantic

Status: Boyfriend

Tag: #radiolove📻

Angel Dust

HC orientation: Homosexual demiromantic homoromantic

Status: Filtrations queerplatonic relationship

Tag: #cherryontop🍧

Velvette

HC orientation: Bisexual demiromantic biromatic

Status: Queerplatonic

Tag: #velvetandswirl💕

Lute

HC orientation: Bisexual biromantic

Status: Girlfriend

Tag: #steelangel⚔

Charlie

HC orientation: Bisexual biromantic

Status: Found family

Tag: #insideisarainbow🌈

Rosie

HC orientation: Bisexual biromantic

Status: Mother figure

Tag: #roseontop🌹

Husk

HC orientation: Bisexual asexual biromantic

Status: Good friends

Tag: #bartenderbuddy♠

Ship Tags

#evilhugsgood🤗💚 - Vox x Adam

#inthistogether💞- Vox x Angel Dust

#appleontheradio - Lucifer x Alastor

#appleonthetv - Lucifer x Vox

#forbiddenfruits🍎🍏 - Lucifer x Adam

#radiomeetstatictv - Alastor x Vox

#shark🦈xdeer🦌xsnake🐍 - Alastor x Lucifer x Vox

#thesharpteethcollective🦷 - Alastor x Adam x Lucifer x Vox

#sinner&saintkiss - Vox x Lute

[kookaburra1701]

WIP Wednesday - Ordior Arma

tagged by @dirty-bosmer tyty❤️ tagging @nientedenada and @tallmatcha, @thana-topsy, @gilgamish

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T Category: gen Main Character: Hadvar of Riverwood Genre(s): Coming of Age, Fish out of Water, Special Interest: The works of Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus

Summary: Hadvar of Riverwood arrives in Cyrodiil as an Imperial Legion officer candidate recruit with very lofty ideas about what exactly being a soldier is all about. Those ideals are tested as he goes through the rigorous Legion training school and tries to acclimate to the much more "civilized" Imperial way of life in the Heartland Province. This is scene happens near the mid point of the fic. Zelmog gra-Morkul is an orc recruit in his training cohort. Immunis (pl. Immunes) was a rank in the Roman military that was given to those who instructed recruits in the art of warfare. (It was also given to specialists like engineers, doctors, etc, those who were immune from regular duty like digging latrines.)

Hadvar's eyes widened at the exquisite blade that was revealed as the wrappings fell away. The sword was beautifully balanced, with a dull olive sheen that flashed when the light struck it just right, marking it as made from an orichalcum alloy. Rather than the curved single-edged swords that had sometimes come through Uncle Alvor's workshop for repair, it was double-edged and straight, the broad blade perfect for the stabbing motions the Legion had drilled into them.The handle was wrapped in black and red leather, and the delicate metalwork of the hilt marked the smith as a master craftsman. A large black stone was set into the pommel.

"Zel, it's beautiful!"

"I suppose it is," Zelmog said, her voice quiet. "My mother made it, her mark is here." She ran her thumb over part of the hilt, where a flaming hammer was seamlessly contained in the scrollwork.

"See, you didn't have to worry about your family being disappointed," he said, grinning. "This sword is better than half the weapons I've seen actual Tribunes wearing! I guess you have to use the weapons they say during training but just think of how impressive it will look when we've got our own commands!"

"Yes...proud." Zelmog smiled at Hadvar, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes. Something was bothering her, and Hadvar could not work out what. "That's what this means. She's proud of me." Zelmog sighed and looked out the doorway. "I'm going to go work on that maneuver Master Graccus was showing us. You'd better get back to-"

"Recruits!" Immunis Siccia's voice rang out behind them, Hadvar and Zelmog immediately snapped to attention and saluted, their fists hitting their chests in unison. "At ease." They both relaxed marginally as Siccia approached.

She held out her hands, and Zelmog dutifully placed the sword and its wrappings in her open palms.

"I thought that might be what was in that package, recruit. It's beautiful work."

"Yes, ma'am."

For a few long moments Siccia looked over the sword, testing its balance and inspecting the careful stitching on the leather. Finally she spoke.

"Many of our most distinguished officers wear weapons they received from their strongholds instead of the weapons the Legion issued them. You may do so if and when you wish."

Hadvar was surprised - he had never heard of a recruit being allowed to have their own weapon during training! He shot a happy look at Zelmog, but she was still staring at the sword in Siccia's hands.

"I- I'd like it to be placed with my personal belongings, ma'am." Her voice was flat.

"Of course recruit. I will personally see that it is secured appropriately." Siccia started to turn away, then paused. "You are well on your way to being an exemplary Legion officer, Zelmog."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"As you were."

When Siccia had disappeared around the corner, Hadvar turned to Zelmog with a wide grin. "I bet that's the first time Siccia has ever given a recruit a compliment! I can't-"

"I'm going to go to the weapons yard," Zelmog interrupted him. "I need to be alone."

Before Hadvar could say anything, Zelmog was stalking quickly down the path to the training yard, and he was left with the uncomfortable feeling that he had missed something very important.

[thenickelportrust]

was wondering if you have any appearance descriptions for the model citizens characters? i wanted to draw some fanart but then realised i don't think there's any... unless i missed something. don't need to put any descriptions up, i'm just asking! if not i'll make up my own appearances lol

Aw, you're very sweet, anon! I'm flattered you'd want to draw fanart! So thank you!

And sure! Some basic descriptions for ye (keeping them simple so I don't overwhelm and so that there's still room for your own imagination and such!):

Finley: Pale blonde hair that falls at around their shoulders, usually kept off of their neck in some kind of ponytail or loose tying to the side, blue eyes, cool-toned skin that should definitely see the sunlight more often, but alas. Tall. Very Tall. Like 6'6". Raf: Pre!Divorce his hair was short, Post!Divorce it's grown out to his jawline-ish. Dark wavy hair (technically brown, but it's that kind of brown that looks black until the light hits it directly), warm mid-toned skin, brown eyes with crow's feet by the edges. Jacob: Messy mouse-brown hair and hazel eyes, rosy-cheeked like he just ran there (he probably did run there) (warm-toned light skin). Short. (Probably tried to see what he could squeeze himself into and fit in. Has probably gotten stuck in a locker as a kid doing this. No one put him there. He put himself there.)

Lucy: Long curly dark hair (think type 3A curls), usually keeps it away from her face in a ponytail, deep brown eyes with the kind of rich color that makes it hard to tell where iris ends and pupil begins, warm toned sepia-brown skin, muscular/athletic figure.

Yolanda: She messes with her hair on the daily sometimes so go wild with the styling, black hair (if left purely natural and not messed with, 3C curls), cool, jewel-toned skin that is often very expertly painted with makeup (the sparklier the better in her humble opinion). (Yolanda is fun because her fashion and makeup aesthetic can be anything because she loves to get creative with it, so there's no such thing as Too Much when it comes to her styles). Also Tall. Very Tall. Like 6'4".

Eileen: Bobbed naturally red/ginger hair that can get very fluffy. Freckles. Freckles. Freckles. Dark green eyes. Rounder/softer figure. Short. Very Short. Like 5' even short.

Informant: He keeps his black hair cut short, his eyes are ????? as they're hidden behind the sunglasses he wears. He wears relatively form-hiding clothes in general, and tends to stick to dark, neutral colors.

Ricky: Picture the kind of man that would wear a grey suit daily and yeah thats him.*

V: All V's have wild, somewhat wavy (like 2A) red hair and dark green eyes. Vera wears her hair long and loose (down to her hip, even), Vincent and Vega both keep it short, but Vega is more experimental with their styling. (Lowkey have sometimes debated giving them an undercut. It feels like something they'd do themself at like 2AM because they thought it might look neat)

Erin: Straight black hair and deep dark eyes that are, technically, brown but look black from pretty much any angle or light. All versions of Erin wear their hair relatively long, in order from longest to shortest: Female Erin, Male Erin, Agender Erin. Callouses on their fingertips from playing guitar. *Jokes aside: Brown hair that he keeps slicked back from his head. Pale blue eyes and sharp features. Always keeps his appearance pristine and crisp.

[vince-linder]

[WIP] Police Mayhem // 2010 AU, Police V

Its ages I started this kinda AU, first after meeting the Maxtac guys in the one sidequest. Afterwards I was just. Damn. I read too much lore about the police system and putted Vince into a pretty Police fit. Also thats what my brain wrote about it. Its a perma-wip, as I am just not feeling the idea behind it anymore. But why not post it anyway. Vince is here "Sergeant Smidt", my lil fucker. The rest should be clear ______________ "Sergeant Smidt, there's another 7-13, down at Martin Luther King Boulevard."

"That's not our problem, call Beat Patrol, or someone from Vice Department. But don't ever waste my time."

"No, no. Sergeant Lewis from Beat called for Assistance with this. Said to come especially to you, Sir. Heavy armed forces, many aggressive accomplices and a handful of..."

"Dirty punk rats?" Smidt let out a deep sigh.

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell the boys to delta in five. Its crushing time." crackling his neck and knuckles, he gets up and leaves his office. Another night, another dirty duty. But he would love to punch in some heads of cyberpsychos, not hunt down dirty rioters, just cause they always riot at corpo places. Priority one, his ass. These people were small fishes, far beyond his talent. But he knows exactly why he has to deal with this. Fuck this Black Mark he got as a Veteran, since then all dirty biz got his biz. Sure, he got, finally, promoted this year, but doesn't change a thing. And he knew for sure, if he wouldn't catch em promptly, it wouldn't take too long, until he would work on Beat Patrol. That was the last thing he ever wanted again. Hunting down every small criminal wasn't his working style.

On the way out, he starts calling his Lieutenant

"M'am, got another 7-13 with 23-245, seems to be the usual guys."

"Get 'em this time, Smidt! Every two or three weeks the same."

"They are fast, as rats are. But I'll get 'em this time. Smidt out."

Fumbling for his lighter for a moment until funding, he lits up a cig and takes a deep puff, deeply exhaling after. The AV lands just two feets before him, the doors shed open. His team was ready, as always.

"Ha, happy to see your beloved rioters again, Vince?", one of his colleagues jokes, as he got in.

"Always, Ted.", he smiles smally. "You know how I love to smash faces of dirty goons."

Both started laughing.

"Oh, for fucks sake, could you two for once be serious?", her feminine voice stood out, with a dark glace she looked at them.

"Chill, Kate." Vince smiled at her "Not as if this was a big thing for us, hu?"

"Not for us, no. But if you fail.", she looked him dead in the eye "All of us knew that the next mission would be without you. Am I right?"

"That's cold...", whispering from the side.

"No, no. She's right. So, s'ppose we start the briefing now. I want the three main rioters, these Samurai guys, alive. Break their bones, if you need to, but dont kill em. If any of em die, or escape, my last act in this position will be giving out black marks without charge.", a dark smile formed on his face, as he spoke out this soft threat.

"You... you dont mean that, Vince!", Ted looked at him with pure disgust.

"He means it, and you know it.", Kate putting on her helmet and the rest of the gear, getting finished. The rest of the team followed her lead.

Flight were silent for the rest of the time, nobody dared to say another word, one could just hear the rattle of the AV, and sometimes a small rustle if someone moved a bit.

Vince was fully in his mind. He know these fuckers far to well. God dammit, in his Beat time he even visited some of their concerts, listening to this heavy rock music, helped him to chill a bit. But in the last few years, these rats just dont stop. He watched the news. There were fires at corpo grounds four times last week. And it always were this samurai fuckers or their fans. But they are always ready to run, there are always some cars with running engines, some spontan gathering of more people, to protect their getaway. This time, they needed a better plan.

"Call Beat for me."

"Sure thing, serg'", it took only a moment "Connected with Veteran Officer Myer"

"Greets, Myer. Sergeant Vince Smidt, MaxTac, Badge 1077."

"MaxTac?! You one the way?", he could feel the shaking in his voice.

"Yes. But I need your help."

"Sure thing, Sir!"

"Listen carefully to me, Myer. I am not the person to repeat myself."

Five minutes later they arrived at the scene, even up from above one could hear the screams of panic and violence, a few gun shots here and there. But one thing overshadowed all other noise.

A sharp voice, echoing through the air. A well known voice, for Vince at least. It was truly one of the two lead vocalists of Samurai. At some moments one could also hear the second one, but not nearly as clearly. The AV stays in the air, a few hundred meters above the ground.

"Just jumping, or taking a rope today, Vinny?"

"Oh shut up.", he laughed for a short moment. "And besides, my ankles can take the jump.", he saluted, smiling, to his colleagues, and just jumped out. The others shook their heads in disbelief, and got their gear ready to jump off.

In the air, free falling, Vince did a few forward rolls, getting his 'wear ready for contact with the concrete at the bottom. In a moment, he would just land directly in front of the so-called rocker boy.

And there were the screams he enjoyed the most.

"MAXTAC! THE FUCKERS ARE HERE!", after that scream, Vince could feel the panic emerge in the group beyond him. And then he could feel it. A frown from a certain rocker. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He could see the dark grin, as the fucker flipped him off and started running.

"Not this time, fuckboy.", he landed with a crash on the concrete, the floor beneath him cracked, but he doesn't have time for that. Just after landing, he started his Sandevistan. He got thirty seconds before his brain would start frying. He has to get a trail of him. This fucker was the main rioter.

With a quick scan through the mass, he found him, and charged at him. Twenty seconds left. There he was. And he turned and looked at him, just for a split second. What? He shouldn't even be able to sense him! Not important. He tackled him, and back in real time.

"MAXTAC, surrender now!", he was on his back, kneeling at the spine.

"Get down off me fucker!", the rocker twisted beneath him, trying to get free.

"Not this time, Silverhand. Listen closely, I never repeat myself.", he got both hands of the other, and cuffs him.

"SHUT UP!", more twisting, so Vince gave him a slap against the back of his head.

"You have the right to shut the fuck up, call whoever you think would get you help, once we reach the police station, and rot in jail until you got free again. So never.", he smiled darkly. Finally he got him. And he could hear his team, and Beat getting control of the rest of them. Trying to get the rocker on his legs, he turned his head and spit Vince directly in the face, against his Aviator.

"You little dirty rat." Vince punched him directly at his kidneys, and the rocker twitched in pain.

Vince hate it when this little fuckers get disrespectful, so he grabbed the other at the hair, and pulled him up, to his face. "If you ever do something like this again, boy, I'll kill you. You know, most of us MaxTac Soldiers are Cyberpsychos."

"As if, asshole. Know you from Beat. Punched you in the guts back then.", he grinned widely.

"Dream on kid, never get punched on duty."

"But you are dumb like a scav."

"What did you say?!", he shouldnt even be talking to him. But whatever. He could feel Kate and Ted coming to him.

"Sergeant, we got the rest of his crew." Kate and Ted saluted, stopping behind him.

Vince could hear the muted screams of the second vocalist and the girl they have with them. Perfect. "The officers got hold of em."

"Great, and as I see, alive and loud as always."

"Yes sire. But we have another problem.", Ted nervously rubs his neck.

"What is it?", annoyed Vince let out a small sigh.

"Arasaka self wants em. But we cannot reach the Lieutenant, or even the Captain. The connection outside this district seems broken."

Vince could feel how the rocker in his hands started chuckling "Hearing em, Ker? Jammer is working!", he shouts in the direction of the other members.

"Bring the other two here to me.", his voice was ice cold. He could not risk another failure with this.

His officers, as always, were obedient and dragged the other two at his feet. With a small sigh he pushed Silverhand into Teds grip. "Stuff his damn mouth."

"Yes sir.", with a grin, and much screams from the rocker, Ted got him all shut up.

"So, 'Ker'", Vince grabbed the head of the second vocalist, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"Wazzup cop?", he grins widely. There was not a single bit of panic in the face or voice of the three. The girl and Silverhand just sat up, both smiling totally pleased. This could not be real. This fuckers, they were between six MaxTac Agents, and nothing?

"Bite your tongue, pig?", the girl spit out laughing.

"Tell me one thing, rats. Why aren't you afraid? All of you are cuffed, surrounded by MaxTac, positively these are your last moments in freedom, and you are laughing?"

"Yes sir, am crazy, cannot control myself. Hes drunk, and shes totally gonked out."

"Fuck off, you are gonked out!"

"Nah, Rogue, you've always been gonky."

One could hear Silverhand spit out the clothes his mouth was shut with, and he just laughs

"Both of you are crazy gonks."

"All of you shut up!" Vince demands, massaging his scalp. He needs answers, but they won't give it to him. Cause not. He's a Cop, they are thugs, nothing to work with. He just should punch em unconscious and wait for their 'Taxi'. But no, at least he wants to break them! If he cannot crush a thing.

Cannot be...

"~Tonight is the night that we run, the hunter becomes what he hunts~", 

Silverhand and 'Ker' just started singing. How much more mockery would he get this night? But somehow he was stunned? He stared at Silverhand, following his mouth forming the words, spitting out the dirty song.

"~The escape and the chase is now one, run!~"

All his alarm systems were screaming in his head, but he could not move a single muscle. Could not speak, but he felt the panic rising in him.

"Spiders here, kids.", Rogue smiles smally, standing up and grabbing the keys from Ted. Nononono. This could not be. Vince's inner voice screamed, he had to stop em! These dirty rats played for time, until their backing arrived! Goddammit, Silverhand even called him dumb, and was he right. They all got rid of the cuffs.

"Come on, Johnny, have to run.", Ker demands.

"Yeah, coming after.", he smiles widely "He Spider, knock em all off, besides the blue haired, would ya."

Vince could feel how the rocker got hold of his hands, bent them behind his back and cuffed him, kicking his knees, so he had to kneel down. "Yeah, wake him, could control it. Yeah, leave em offline."

"YOU little fucker!", Vince roared out, as his voice worked again. He tried to activate Sandevistan or his Blades, but nothing. He couldn't even move really!

"Ah, found your tongue again. Nice, nice.", Silverhand putting his hand beneath his chin, grabbing his fingers in the flesh and pushing his gaze up. "Hows the feeling of being absolutely helpless, Mister 'Im so important, look at me, Im Maxtac'?", he chuckled darkly.

"Shut the fuck up and tell me what you want."

"Not the best at flirting, ain't ya?"

"What do you want, Silverhand?" Vince was at the end of his tether. This was it, goodbye MaxTac, hello Beat Patrol! Now he would run after some little gonks again, for years.

"Delete our records.", his voice suddenly got grim. "Or protect us from 'saka."

"I cannot do one of these, and you know that!"

"Find a way, Cop.", he slapped his face hard with his mechanical hand, Vince could nearly feel unconsciousness coming around. Spitting out blood, he felt somewhat funny.

"All you got?"

"Want to fuck around with me, Mister?", Silverhand eyed him up. "Hope some more troops arrive in time, to catch me and rescue your little ass? Sorry, not today."

He kicked against his chest, moving him on his back. His legs just were not working.

Standing on top of him, the Rocker bent down to him and grins widely. The next punch hitted his nose, and got all his lights put out.