#and i do not feel like i will have that with a username

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You still don’t know what to call the man. Captain? Rogers? He’s just the man to you. The stranger who doesn’t speak. 

He doesn’t linger. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some game. If he’s playing with you. His stoicism is just another weapon against you. As he leaves, you sit, stunned and lost. Alone. 

The front door of the cabin shuts you in but you don’t know that you would have the courage to let yourself out. The man found you once; unbidden and unexpected, you’re certain he could do it again and again and again. So, you wait until you’re certain the house is empty before you get up. 

You fix the nightgown and hug yourself as you peek through the open bedroom door. You emerge warily and glance through to the bathroom. The front room once jars you further. You forgot how cozy, how normal it seams. 

You wander around the frayed rug and inspect every piece of furniture. A draft runs through the room, blowing in around the door. There’s an iron basket of split logs next to the fireplace. There’s something yellow on top.

You go over and open the packet; inside, a lighter and a little booklet on how to start a fire. Hm. There’s a bag of kindling next to the wood as well. Maybe later. 

You set the packet back down and turn to face the other doorway. The one you’ve not yet ventured through. The kitchen is small but tidy. On the table, there’s a small crate. Within, sorted neatly, are similar silver packets to the one he handed you in the bedroom. They are labeled alongside a large bag of quick oats. 

The oats simply read, ‘Breakfast’. The writing is jagged but legible. Each packet is labeled decisively; Day 1 – Dinner, Day 2 – Lunch... On and on. You turn and face the fridge. The only thing on it is another note. ‘Drink Water. Not Tap.’ Got it. After the complete absence of communication, it’s nice to have at least a little directive. 

You retreat to the bedroom and check the empty packet. Yep, Day 1 – Lunch. Amid the chaos of your abduction and the desolation of this place, the pieces of order stick out sorely. It all feels so fractured. 

You go to the armoir and try to open it. The doors don’t budge. You back up and cross your arms again. You’re really starting to get cold. You should get the fire going before your fingers go completely numb. 

You strip the flannel blanket from the bed and wrap it around your shoulders. You go back into the living room and hep the extra layer at your waist as you sit on your knees and try to figure out the fireplace. After several splinters and some sparks from the lighter, you get a flame struck. 

You stay close and hold up your hands as it begins to lick. You settle down on your butt and hug yourself under the blanket. You watch the flames swirl and your vision blurs with little orbs of colour.  

The questions don’t matter. The answers won’t make a difference. Why are you here? Where is here? No, it’s useless. Just like from the first moment you saw him. You know now, it wasn’t the first time he saw you. 

You hang your head and let it pour out of you. The fear throttles you so you’re choking on your sobs. Your body wracks and your skull throbs. You don’t want to live like this but you’re too afraid to die. 

You wade up from the dregs of your grief and the room comes clear again. You’re on your side before the glowing embers. You sit up and put another piece of wood on the pile then get up. You stagger around to the bedroom, your feet moving without your mind’s intent. 

You go to the corner. You stare at the shelf. The pictures, the stolen parts of your existence, the shank of hair... is gone? You saw him put it there. Oh well. Good riddance. 

You shudder and squint over the images. There’s one from over a year ago. The last time you saw your family. You shake your head and back up. No. No. You didn’t know for that long. Well, how could you expect something like this? 

You sniffle and leave the room. You can’t stay in there. Not with that shrine? Altar? You don’t even know what. 

You take a stiff pillow from the couch and lower yourself in front of the fireplace again. You close your eyes but you don’t know if you’ll be able to sleep. There isn’t much else to do. 

Time skews into a haze. It’s dark, then light, and dark again. Your stomach gurgles but by the time you get the food warm, you’re too sick to eat more than a few bites. As the days wilt by, a stench roils from your body. 

The packets help you track the day, even as you miss some, you try to keep some order in your mind. On Day Four, you dare to try the faucet. The tub pours out steaming water. You adjust it before you sink in. It’s as close to peace as you’ve found. 

As the water stagnates around your body, you can’t help but think. When will he come back? Will he be back? You don’t think he’s out there having fun and frolicking. You could tell by his attire, by the marks of death on that shield. 

You let the water go cold then drain it. You pull the same nightgown on, even as it reeks. You just need something on. You reclaim the blanket and your perch before the fireplace. You wish you had something warm to drink. Coffee or tea. Nothing could ever make this place anything less than a prison, but you wouldn’t mind some comfort. 

[httpscomexe]

is chapter 4 of runaway will be coming out soon? just genuinely asking, take your time don't feel rushed!!! i absolutely adore your fics 😍😍

Runaway 4

Summary: Xavier takes others over you, leaving you with Logan's worst nightmare. Staying with Wade Wilson.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Hybrid!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, forced drinking, sexual jokes, fourth wall breaking. (Individual warnings per chapter) This will most likely be a non-con fic.

Word Count: 4155 (Find all chapters here) CH5

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

It becomes sort of a routine with Logan.

Wake up, let him brush your hair, let him choose your clothes, study, eat dinner, let him brush your hair, sleep, and then repeat. Occasionally, he would have days where he was busy, and you knew better than to try finding Wade. Since he’d taken your phone as a punishment, you hadn’t been able to contact anyone else either. But you didn’t think much of it.

And right now, it was morning. The sun was shining through his open curtains, light shining onto your thighs as you sat on the floor, Logan sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed as he brushed through your hair, his fingers occasionally stroking over your ears.

“Okay, what does this word mean?” You held up the book you were reading, and you pointed at a word on the second page.

“Do you know how to say it…?” He asks you, still brushing through your hair, you weren’t sure why he still was, since there weren't any tangles left.

“Sub…Lim…” You try pronouncing the word, stuttering a little. “Inal?”

“Good, now say it all together.” He asks, taking a tie off his wrist to pull your hair up into a ponytail, but he changes his name and continues to brush it.

“Subliminal? What does that mean?”

“Read the sentence, try to figure it out…” He tells you, sectioning your hair now to part it into box braids.

“It says ‘As is typical with this method, no part… particip…ant… participant reported being aware of the sub…liminal faces.’” You struggle a little, and hear him chuckle behind you.

“Good, what do you think it means?”

“Well…” You think about it, trying to remember what Xavier had taught you about root words, and just as you’re about to explain your thought process, there’s a knock at the door, making your ear twitch slightly to the sound. “Ow…” You move your head away, the pointy end of the brush he was using the part of your hair pokes the sensitive skin of your ear.

“Shit… sorry… are you okay?” He quickly gets down to his knees, and his hand fans over your large ear, and there's another knock at the door, the person behind it getting impatient.

“I’m okay Lo, go see who’s at the door.” You gently nudge his hand away, and you watch as he sighs and stands up to open the door, leaving you to gently rub your ear. You weren’t sure why they were so sensitive, but you were sure it was because you weren’t grown in your deer form yet. You’ve only spent a few hours in that form in total in your many years of being alive, so of course, it wasn’t very… developed.

“Jean?” You can’t see too well from your position on the floor, the bed being in your way.

“Hey, I wanted to talk about something, is Bambi here?” You stay quiet.

“No, she’s out with a friend.” He clears his throat, and you understand what to do, you crawl to the other side of the bed so you wouldn’t be visible to Jean.

“Can I come in?” You hear Logan step inside, then lighter footsteps until Jean is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“So Xavier told me…” You hear the bed move a bit more, and assume Logan sat down next to her. “Having her here is too risky.”

“Too… risky?”

“Yes… Considering she’s a hybrid and all.” You hear her sigh. “Obviously, people are searching for those. And if anyone finds out that she’s here… Well… Then we’re compromising the safety of everyone in the mansion.”

“So what? He wants to just throw her out?”

“No, he will provide her with a home and clothes to hide her-”

“It’s not happening.”

“It’s not up to you, Logan.” By this time, your ears were already pinned down to the back of your head, and if you weren’t sitting on your ass, your tail would be between your legs.

“She will die…”

“She’s survived all this time alone already. What difference would there be?”

“Yea she’s survived!” He half shouts and half whispers. “She’s survived because they catch her and hold her like a fucking animal.”

“Logan, why are you whispering? We’re alone.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then a sigh comes from Jean. “Bambi, you can come out.” Your ear perks up slightly, but you don’t move, she wasn’t in control of you.

“Bambi honey, come on out.” You stand to Logan's demand, slowly before crawling onto the bed, sitting near Logan.

“Hey… Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You tell her, but your ears are still down.

“It’s just… If they find you here, it’s putting everyone else at risk, and Xavier would… Well he’d rather lose 1 hybrid than lose hundreds of mutants.”

“I understand.” You whisper, but your eyes meet Logans.

“When does Xavier want her gone?” Logan's voice comes out gruff.

“As soon as possible. He was hoping this afternoon.”

“And why isn’t he the one telling me this? Why did he send you?” She’s quiet again apart from a sigh. “God he’s a fucking pussy.” His head turns towards you. “There’s a duffle bag in the closet, start throwing our clothes in it Bambi.” He stands up, and Jean stands up with him, a stunned look on her face with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry… Our?” She watches as you disappear into the closet, and her jaw goes slack as Logan follows behind you. “No, no. Logan, you can’t leave.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, Logan. We need you on missions.” She stands at the opening of the closet, and you ignore their conversation, deciding it doesn’t have to do with you.

“You guys will do just fine without me.” He says, reaching over your head to grab a heavy jacket. “Here hun, carry this one. It’s cold outside.”

“Logan-” She grabs his arm, and tries to pull on him. “You can’t-”

“No.” His tone changes completely, from just simple annoyance to straight anger and frustration. He clearly wasn’t happy about Xaviers negligence, and the last thing he needed was the stubborn red head pulling on his arm and telling him he can’t. “I am not leaving her out alone in fucking New York to be kidnapped by another fucking gang.” He pulls his arm away from her and he points in her face. “If you guys need my help so fucking bad, then you better talk to Xavier and figure out a way she can stay here.”

“Logan, there are hundreds of lives on the line, you could at LEAST do the logical thing.”

“The logical thing?” His voice gets louder, and you take a small step away but continue folding clothes and stuffing them into the duffle bag. “I lost my entire fucking family and everyone I knew in my fucking universe, and Bambi is the closest thing I have to family here.”

“The closest thing you have to a family? Logan you fight beside us in missions that could end up with the entire state exploded to dust and what? We’re not your family?”

“No, you’re not. The Jean that was my family is fucking dead, the Xavier that was my family, guess what? He’s fucking dead…” You glance over from the corner of your eye to see Logan take a progressive step towards him with each name. “Ororo, Hank, Scott, everyone that was my fucking family is dead. So excuse me if I don’t want to see a walking fucking corpse every last waking second of my life, and be reminded of my fuck up, everytime I see you motherfuckers…” Jean was now packed into a corner, Logan's face barely inches away from hers, and you can see the way her jaw is clenching. “So don’t you fucking dare tell me what I can, and can not do. I have no connection to you, and will have no fucking problem sending three fucking blades down the centre of your throat.” She doesn’t say anything, only swallowing her spit before her eyes move to yours, still in the closet and frozen in the middle of folding a pair of Logan's jeans before you had become invested in their argument.

You’ve never seen Logan so pissed.

“Fine… Leave.” She looks back up at Logan. “Have the lives of a couple more hundred people in your hands because you left, again.” Shit… You watch as his claws slowly extract from his hands, and you put the jeans down, slowly approaching in case Jean becomes a target.

“You better take that back…” They stare at each other for a long moment. Only the sound of the fan above spinning and the heavy breathing from Logan could be heard through the room.

“Make. Me.” Logan.

“Oh…” He chuckles. Logan…! “Now you’ve done it…” Logan!

“Logan!” Your voice comes out small, and his head twitches a little as he looks over his shoulder. He looks as if he had forgotten you were there. “Can we leave… Please?” You glance down as his claws are hidden back beneath his skin, and it heals over quickly.

“Right…” He growls a little, and backs away from Jean after one last look. “Are you ready then?” He asks, ignoring Jean now as he goes into the closet and lifts the duffle bag, tossing in the last pair of jeans before zipping it up.

“Yes I’m ready…” You stand in the centre of the room awkwardly. “I guess…” You mumble, and Logan sways his hand in front of him, signalling for you to move ahead of him as he grabs his keys, and you’re out of the door quickly, leaving Jean alone in the room, and his arm slides behind your back to walk next to you.

You were sitting in the passenger seat, watching in the mirror as Logan tossed the bag in the back, slamming the door and making the truck shake a little before getting behind the wheel and starting the engine.

“So where are we going?” He sighs, thinking of an answer to the question with one hand on the wheel as he stares at nothing. Then he reaches into his back pocket, and takes out his phone, handing it to you. “Call Wade.” You take the phone. “Act happy or whatever, and ask if he has space for both you and me…” He growls a little again, looking out his window as you find Wade’s name in his contacts, and you ring it.

“Peanut? And I thought you deleted my number.” The sound of Wade's voice alone was enough to make you smile.

“No, it's me.” You chuckle a little, expecting him to recognise your voice.

“Oh, darling. Bambi, you’re using Logans’ phone. Everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything is fine. But he and I were wondering if you had space for both him and me?”

“They’re kicking him out already?”

“No, they’re kicking me out actually.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. I have the couch, and I have an air mattress that I let Logan sleep on before he left me for one-eye. You guys can obviously stay here.” Logan sighs, but he starts the engine and speaks up.

“Still living under that bridge with Althea?” He asks gruffly.

“Of course, I wouldn't want to leave this humble abode. But peanut?” Logan grunts. “Do you mind picking up dinner? I’ll pay you back. We just need pizza.”

“Sure. What kind?” He turns over his shoulder and begins backing out.

“Hawaiian, no ham. And then just normal cheese.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks pea-” Logan reaches over and hangs up before putting the truck back in forward and he drives out of the parking lot, leaving the mansion behind.

“Can we also get some brownies?” You ask, putting the phone on the centre console.

“Of course, Bambi.”

“Oh, my two most favourite things ever are here!” Wades’ voice is joyful as both you and Logan walk inside of his little home, the smell of sweat and dog smacking you in the face.

“Male strippers and cocaine?” Another voice comes from a different room.

“Bambi and pizza!” He hugs you, and Logan grunts from behind. “Male strippers is my third favourite, silly.” He calls back, letting go of you and taking the pizza boxes from your hand.

“Hey Bam, how about you go shower, the bathrooms back there.” He points to the room where the other voice came from. Just another person comes out, wearing glasses and with a white afro and walking cane in one hand.

“Who the hell gives birth and names their kid ‘bam?’” She says, feeling around a little for the couch and mumbling something along the lines of ‘why does Wade keep moving the fucking couch.’ “That’s a stupid-”

“Her name is actually Bambi.”

“That’s a little better.” Just a few sentences in conversation between Wade and Althea, and you could tell just how close they really were besides their constant bantering. “Wait, her?”

“I know right? Logan managed to pick up a little girl.” Wade says giddily, placing the pizza boxes on the table and opening them all before taking two cheese, a pineapple, and three brownies.

“Oh then it’s not as surprising, I thought she was your girl.”

“Look, Wade and I need to have a talk.” Logan says suddenly, gently grabbing your arm to get you to look at him. “How about you go take that shower, okay?” You nod, and take some clothes from the duffle bag he's set on the floor.

“I promise the bathroom is the cleanest place in this house.” Wade tells you as you walk by, grabbing a brownie as you pass him. 

“Just ignore Wade's toys, he uses them when Vanessa is around.” Vanessa? “Or whenever Gossip Girls is playing… Wish I was deaf.”

You walk into the bathroom, the sound of Logan's voice disappearing as you close the door, and your eyes immediately land on the large dildo sticking to the wall, which you try your hardest to ignore and not laugh at as you turn on the faucet and remove your clothes.

With the time that you’re in the shower, Logan takes his time explaining to Wade why they need a place to stay for a while, at least until they find another place.

“God they are such pieces of shit. Like I get where they’re coming from with saving hundreds or saving one, but there’s also like either you save one hundred chickens or you save one unicorn. One’s just more important. You don’t find any mammal hybrids anymore.”

“Exactly, but also Jean got pissed off at me because I told her I’m leaving. Apparently I’m so important and they can’t win without me.” He takes a large sip from his beer, an understatement when half the bottle disappears down his throat.

“I mean they’ve survived and fought so long without this world's Logan before…” Wade tells him, snatching another cheese pizza.

“Look, if I ever end up having to leave…” He sighs, regretting his next words. “Just promise to take care of Bambi. Other than you, she’s all I have left.”

“Wow, talking about me like my life doesn’t matter.” He chuckles, shoving the cheesy bread into his mouth, getting the red sauce on his lips.

“Well you can’t die, she can.”

“Now, now. I was joking, Peanut.” Logan grunts at the use of the nickname.

“What’s this girl's real name anyways?” Althea asks, using a nail fail on her nails, not even realising how incredibly crooked they were becoming.

“No idea, I’ve been calling her Bambi cause… Well, she’s a deer hybrid.”

“Ah, ah. She’s a fawn hybrid.”

“Fawn isn’t a fucking species, it’s an age.”

“Yes, but she’s not a deer.”

“Pretty sure she’s full grown.”

“Maybe in her human form. But she hasn’t spent nearly enough time in her deer form to call herself a deer.”

“What are you talking about…?”

“Look at it this way, if she spent the majority of her life in her deer form, then she’d be a full grown deer, and whenever she turned into her human form, she’d be a toddler. Right now, she’s a toddler in her deer form, AKA, a fawn.” He pauses and looks away from Logan, eyes landing on Althea. “Al honey, if you keep doing that to your nails, they’ll be sharp enough to give someone a Prince Albert piercing.” He looks away from Althea and at a wall. “Readers, I don’t suggest looking that up.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Logan growls, and he can hear the sound of the shower being turned off.

“He does that sometimes, you learn to ignore it.”

“Maybe you do, but you’re blind. He literally just stared at the fucking wall and spoke to dust.”

“Like I said, you get used to it.”

As you get out of the shower and dry yourself, some sort of talk about walls and dust quickly changes into how Wade is a psychopath. Throughout your entire shower, you were thinking about where you’d be sleeping. Of course, knowing Logan, he’d let you choose between either the air mattress or the couch. The problem is, you didn’t know what’s been done on either of them. You knew Wade pretty well, and judging by the dildo still suctioned onto the wall, he didn’t really care who knew about what he did, and he didn’t mind where he did it. So you were sure there would be stains on either one.

“There she is.” Wade automatically silences the conversation as you walk out of the bedroom and back into the living room wearing only your favourite white lace panties and one of Logans’ hoodies, which looked oversized on your smaller body.

“Want the couch or the air mattress Bambi?” There it is. You still had the towel in your hands, and you were drying your hair as you sat next to him on the couch.

“Yea I had a question for you about that.”

“What’s up?”

“Is the couch even…” You look at Wade. “Clean?” You ask it in the nicest way you can, and the sight of Althea suddenly breaking out in laughter seems to stun Wade.

“Careful now, don’t want to have a stroke.”

“Oh fuck you.” She stops laughing and looks in your general direction. “Want my honest input.” You nod, but then remember she’s blind.

“Yes, please.”

“Sleep on the floor.” She tells you, then stands up with her walking cane, and heads towards her room, closing the door behind her.

“Logan, where would you rather sleep?” You expect him not to answer, and to just tell you that where he sleeps is based on your answer.

“I’d prefer the couch, an air mattress is like sleeping on a damn rock.”

“Can I just… Can I just sleep on you?”

“Oh. My. God. You better say yes, she’s offering to sleep with you.” Wade stands up from the couch, stretching in place before heading to Althea's room. They sleep together?

“Wade, we sleep together all the time.” Logan sighs.

“It was supposed to be a sex joke, Sheldon Cooper.”

“Who…?”

“Ignore it…” Logan holds his hand out, preventing you from saying anything else.

“Goodnight, Peanut. Goodnight, Bambi!” He calls from the room before closing the door, and you can hear the sound of him throwing his jeans down on the floor before the bed in the room creaks under his weight.

“So…”

“What do you mean sleep on me?” Logan asks, interrupting you.

“I mean like… You sleep on the couch, and I sleep on your body. Like you’re my bed.” He stares at you for a moment, as if deciphering your request.

“Yea… Yea, we can do that, that’s okay.” He groans as he stands up, tossing his beer bottle in a pile of more bottles, some broken from previous other bottles being tossed on them.

“I’m gonna eat first though, does Wade have anything to drink?” You ask, standing up as well, and skipping a little to his fridge.

“Ugh… I know he has beer.” He tells you, opening another closet and pulling out a few blankets as you open the fridge and search for something other than alcohol. You simply will not touch it.

“Gross… Is the sink water-”

“Don’t even think about drinking the sink water.”

“What does he give her?” You point down at the slobbery looking dog that’s been snoring this entire time, kicking her legs in her sleep.

“Probably his own saliva.” He tells you, and it almost sounded serious as he covers the couch in clean blankets. “Did you bring your hairbrush?” You nod, walking back over to the couch. “The beer?” He quirks his eyebrow, reaching down to find the hairbrush in the duffle bag.

“Beer is gross.”

“Grab me one then.” You turn back around, opening the fridge again to grab a beer for him. “Sit here.” He points to the couch, and you sit exactly where he’s pointing, and he sits behind you on the back of the couch as you’re seated between his legs.

“Thank you baby.” He takes the beer from your hands, and removes the few braids he was able to get in from that morning and afterwards he pops the beer open.

“How does your ear feel?” He asks once they’re all out, gently touching your ear with his fingers and stroking the fur gently, causing you to purr quietly.

“It’s fine, it was just a poke.”

“Good, I didn’t mean to hurt you Bambi…”

“I know, it was my fault. I moved.” He doesn’t say anything back, instead, he grabs the hairbrush and begins to gently brush through your hair, and again, as always, he’s careful to avoid your ears, using his hands to gently pull threads of your hair off the fur.

“Are you sure you don’t want the couch to yourself?”

“Logan, you know I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“I know, Bamb. Just trying to make conversation.” He tells you, and you reach forward, him gently letting go of your hair so he doesn’t pull it as you grab two cheese pizzas, the pineapple box completely empty.

“You have to drink something.” He continues brushing your hair, occasionally taking a sip of his beer as he focuses on brushing.

“I know, but beer is gross… We can always go out and get apple juice in the morning?” You suggest, and he sighs behind you.

“You haven’t drank anything all day.” He tells you, and you look up and over your shoulder at him as he sets the brush aside and puts more of the liquid in his mouth, you watch as his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

“I’ll be alright.” You tell him as he stares down at you, and his right hand finds your chin as he lifts your face up slightly. Then he presses a single kiss to the corner of your lips, pulling back for a moment to take another swig of his beer, and his lips find yours fully now. His fingers squeeze your jaw carefully, but enough to force your own lips open, and he spits the alcohol into your mouth, making you involuntarily pull away but he keeps you still, replacing his mouth with his hand and covering your nose as well so you’re forced to drink the foul liquid.

“Now we either do that about five more times, or you drink the rest yourself.” He tells you, holding the half-filled bottle up to your eye level.

“Fine…” You groan, taking the bottle and sipping from it as he watches you.

“Good girl…” Your tail begins to wag on its own again at his praise and he removes his shirt before lying down on the couch with only a lamp on a small table next to the couch to illuminate a small portion of the room.

“Do I have to drink it all?”

“Just half is okay.” He tells you, and you close your nose before downing half of what he’s given you, hacking a little at the taste.

“Done.” You hold out the bottle to him, and he takes it, swallowing the rest before tossing the bottle towards the rest as before.

“Alright, lie down…” He pats his stomach a little, and you quickly crawl on top of him, taking a soft blanket from the side with you.

“So… since we’re living with Wade now…”

“You don’t have to ignore him…” He answers your question before you even finish asking it, and he shuts off the light behind him, casting the room in darkness, barely seconds later you feel his hand on your head as he gently scratches that spot behind your ear, making you purr.

You were relieved you wouldn’t have to ignore Wade, considering you’d be living with them for who knows how long.

“Just don’t ever sleep with him when I’m not here.”

Tags: @shybluebirdninja @atomicheartbroken @hazydespair

[salt216000]

I saw a post today that made me quite upset. Normally I'd just ignore, but I read some of the tags and they upset me quite a bit too.

Username is cropped out because I don't want to make it seem like I'm putting 'em on blast, I just want to give my opinion on this.

Transfem headcanons of Gabriel are absolutely fine. Awesome, even. But not while putting down transmasc headcanons at the same time.

The post makes a really interesting and good point! Transfem Gabriel does work well with his narrative of growth and discovery of his own identity, especially as someone cast out of Heaven for not achieving the ridiculous standards they set. That is a really good notion that, yes, being entirely honest, I don't see as frequently from that angle.

But you do NOT have to say it is a 'failure of the fandom' and pin the blame on more people headcanoning him as transmasc. If you want transfem Gabriel content then you can make it: art, writing, musings, anything, but you don't have to put down other creators for projecting their own ideas and potentially their own experiences onto a character they like and relate to.

I'm going to preface this next part with: I am NOT disparaging against transfem Gabriel headcanons, or giving reasons as to why they shouldn't exist. All I am doing here is clarifying why people tend to headcanon him as transmasc. Francis Xie was hired by Hakita to draw concept art, and he is known for drawing a lot of artwork of Gabriel (some NSFW in nature, as a warning in case you decide to look for yourself), and in said artwork he depicts his headcanon of Gabriel being transmasc. Of course, this is not gospel, it is not officially canon and even if it was people are allowed to headcanon him as whatever they want, I only bring this up to help explain why the headcanon may be so popular.

More personally, I find it really gender affirming to have a character in the ballpark of masculine in frame and voice, but to see him wear more feminine clothing in official artwork without it being degrading. It's very nice to see a depiction of this to help push back against the reinforcement that masculine presenting people must conform to certain standards, and that's why I personally enjoy the headcanon too.

There are also a decent few characters that DO get more transfem rep: Mirage, the mindflayers, mannequins, V2, so I don't understand why it's a problem that it is the minority with Gabriel. I wasn't originally going to post this publically, but these tags pushed me to do so:

Username once again cropped out for the same reason as above. To be clear, these are NOT OP's tags.

I don't care what the original tone OP meant was, if it was joking or playful or whatever else, because the sentiment that that post gathered is absolutely wretched. I don't have much else to say about it without getting deeper into gender stuff that I don't want to extend this post with, but I'll reiterate my main point.

You can be upset that there aren't headcanons that represent a certain idea you prefer, but DO NOT put down others who have contrasting ideas in the same breath. If you want to make a post about Gabriel being transfem being a great narrative, go for it, no one will stop you, but do not fucking wrap in a 'transmasc headcanons are wrong and don't get it, and my headcanon is more correct', and at those tags in particular, do NOT treat transmasc headcanons like this, 'transmasc pandemic' is such an awful way to put it and makes me feel as though a line in the sand is being further drawn between transmascs and others who are not.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Epilogue

As summer fades, the ghouls settle in further. New friends and relationships blossom, and a new band performs their first ritual in the local village.

Rating: M Content: possessive behavior Words: 4812

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Not bad for a fic that was meant to be 5 chapters and about 15k words… this was supposed to be a quick little fic that I wrote before moving on to write the longer soulmates AU I’ve been planning since around March! 

As I think I've mentioned, this isn't the end! This was always supposed to be a Raindrop fic, and so Swissalps's story will be continued in a sequel. I'll be dropping the first chapter shortly, and I have a special invitation for it if anyone wants that in their ask box! message me or reply if you'd be interested?

I can't let myself get too sappy here or it'll end up longer than the chapter itself. But thank you to everyone who's been so lovely about this fic in replies or reblogs (especially looking at @everybodyshusband @cosmicseafoam @jazz-bazz @0-miles-away @papaslittlesunshine @ligovskaya @midnight-moth @karmicbias @kentuckyfriedsatan and anyone who's AO3 username I haven't correlated to a tumblr blog yet!), I wouldn't have stuck with this so long without you guys 🖤🖤

Read below, or on AO3!

The weeks passed, the summer fading further every day. With the final harvests nearly all brought in and the trees painting themselves in a hundred shades of amber and gold, autumn was finally upon the Abbey. No amount of dulling of the colours of nature could dull the passion of Rain and Dew’s relationship however, even as they found themselves slipping into a routine. For the Abbey’s fire ghouls, it was all hands on deck to help keep the grain dry, yet amidst his busy schedule Dew still found ample time to luxuriate in him and his pack’s safe and comfortable new home. Most importantly though, he thought, he had time to spend with his m– Rain.  

Dew had to stop himself for the thousandth time from thinking of Rain as his mate. To him, the rituals were practically complete. Having passed on his amulet, he had opened his heart and shared his soul. For Rain though, he knew they were only at the end of the first step of the many that comprised a water ghoul's courting ritual. They had many months left before Rain would have completed his side of the tradition; the next step being gifts that were less about being pretty, and more practical gifts for their future together. Dew had no way of knowing that Rain was already hard at work on that front; taking advice from his new pod of water ghouls on the best kinds of kelp to harvest from the lake here, and the weaving patterns that would create the softest possible blankets from it. Dew was happy to wait for Rain however; even if it took millennia, he would wait for him. 

As the weeks passed for Dew and Rain and their relationship grew both deeper and stronger, Swiss and Mountain continued to dance around each other, both backing out of making the final move at the last second. Their friendship had never been stronger, and with that came the higher pressure of what was a stake if their feelings were not reciprocated. 

Aether could see straight through their – at times – comedically oblivious behaviour. He had known Mountain for so many years now, and Swiss a great number too, that he could decipher the thoughts running through their heads just like reading a book. Seeing his pack couple off like they were doing could have made him feel lonely and jealous, he supposed. Considering his thoughts however, he couldn't find a scrap of negativity towards any of them. Really, he was just happy to see his pack happy.  

He had a fulfilling life; a pack, new friends around the Abbey. Aether had always said that he was happy alone, with no desire to settle with a mate. Admittedly, Mountain had said something similar when they first met, but Swiss seemed to have been an exception there. Over the recent weeks since Cumulus had properly introduced them, Aether had especially been enjoying getting to know Cowbell. The quiet ghoul's steady, timeless attitude felt grounding amongst the recent chaos of his life, and Aether could tell they seemed as delighted to have made a new friend as he was. 

Aether’s role in the infirmary was also going better than he could have expected. Astra had quickly seen how unnecessary any training she could offer him would be, and had set him up mentoring some of the younger quintessence ghouls. To his mild amusement, he had gained a small gaggle of quintessence ghouls who followed him around the infirmary like little ducklings, hanging on his every word and keen to lap up every scrap of knowledge he imparted. Aether found he enjoyed that side of his new role more than he had expected, and looked forward to teaching the younger ghouls each shift. 

With the Harvest Festival quickly approaching, one of the main tasks of the infirmary ghouls had been to prepare a supply of tinctures and remedies for the ghouls and siblings alike who would inevitably indulge a little too heavily in the Abbey’s famous blackberry wine. Due to his extensive knowledge of medicinal plants and herbs, Astra had delegated the task of organising this to Aether, who had grasped the extra responsibilities firmly. 

Before the festival however, came the one thing that was more exciting to the pack; Swiss, and Copia’s first musical engagement in the local tavern. Sunshine and Mountain were also heavily occupied now in rehearsals for it, the three ghouls – and one human – doing an excellent job of hiding their nerves from the rest of the pack. 

The pack was something else that had grown stronger at the Abbey, thought Aether. It hadn’t taken long for the five ghouls to begin to see the ghoulettes they lived their lives in such proximity to as more than just casual friends. Dew had clearly seen them as family long before the others had, but within the span of time they had been here the other ghouls also came to see them as an interwoven part of their lives. 

The ghoulettes, Cirrus and Cumulus in particular, had been referring to the new ghouls as pack, long before they were aware of it. The Den had become so much more crowded and noisier since they arrived, but none of the ghoulettes would change it for the world. The Abbey could feel large and lonely at times, and the constant presence of at least one member of the newly extended pack made everything feel cosier.  

Indeed, the concert – Aether still found calling it a “Ritual” to be laughable, although he would be happy to be proved wrong – was to be their first true pack adventure. The nine ghouls, plus Cowbell, Copia and several Siblings of Sin, were all planning to make the journey down the hill to support their leader’s latest passion project. Cowbell had offered to drive them in the large horse and cart usually used for their monthly grocery runs to the village, and as such the event was developing quite a party-like atmosphere. 

Even amongst the ghouls not attending, most either too busy or incapable of holding an adequate glamour, the day held excitement and novelty. There was a general buzz in the air throughout the Abbey, and it was riding this high that inspired most of the ghouls to finalise their remaining chores before the harvest festival the following day. 

One ghoul in particular who seemed to be buoyed along by the jubilant environment was a young, dark-haired fire ghoul. He was comparatively new to the Abbey, arriving some years after Dew left. Swiss was hurrying back to the Den, bringing armfuls of freshly-washed clothes from the laundry when the fire ghoul strode up to him with a self-assured, almost cocky, grin. 

“Good luck for tonight,” he purred in a low voice like treacle, reaching out a muscular arm to lay a hand on Swiss’ own bicep, “I’ll be at the festival tomorrow, if you want to get a celebratory drink together?” 

Swiss stood confused: he couldn’t remember ever speaking to this ghoul before, and certainly not in a way that would cause him to be so familiar with him. He hoisted the pile of clothes further into his arms, trying to think of a polite was to ask who he was exactly. 

“I, um…” Swiss trailed off, distracted by a low noise ringing in his ears. He shook his head slightly, trying to dislodge it but to no avail: if anything, it seemed to be getting louder. A dark and earthy scent suddenly assaulted his senses, and he wondered if he was falling ill, or if he had been cursed or something. It seemed the fire ghoul could feel it too though, as Swiss saw the colour drain from his face, rendering his tanned, olive skin an ashy grey. His terrified eyes were fixed on a point above and behind Swiss, and he stood frozen like a deer caught in a ranger's torchlight. Swiss cautiously turned around, half expecting to see some kind of nether-worldly monster oozing out of the wall. 

All he saw was Mountain however, stood tall and stony-faced with a dark aura emanating from him. The added height of his antler-like horns meant he cut an imposing figure. His lip curled into a snarl as he growled again, and a new wave of that woodsy, almost possessive scent washed over Swiss. As much as it seemed to be scaring the fire ghoul, Swiss thought it smelled divine. He smiled at Mountain with a questioning head-tilt, wondering where this strange behaviour was coming from so suddenly. The Earth ghoul’s eyes were fixed on the fire ghoul however, who managed to unfreeze for long enough to stutter out a disjointed sentence. 

“I’m sorry!” He looked like he was staring straight into the face of death himself. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry!” 

With a jerk of his head, Mountain dismissed him, sending the terrified fire ghoul scuttling down the hallway as fast as he could run, his tail between his legs. Once he was out of sight, Mountain seemed to calm down. His expression softened, and the air around him seemed lighter again.  

“What was all that about?” Swiss asked, confused by the earth ghoul’s sudden black mood, and the even more sudden departure of the unknown fire ghoul.  

Mountain muttered something Swiss didn’t catch and started relieving him of the large bundle of black clothes in his arms. Swiss trailed back to the Den beside him, still utterly confused by the interaction that had just taken place. 

“Was I meant to know who that was?” He mused aloud. “He acted so familiar, yet I can’t remember him from anywhere!” 

Mountain almost dropped the clothes, as he doubled over and snorted with laughter, previous aggressive attitude long behind him now that he had the multi ghoul to himself again. Was Swiss seriously that clueless about the fire ghoul’s unsubtle actions? Ever since he’d known him, Swiss had been taking advantage of the humans’ proclivity for flirting with him, often reciprocating if he thought it would secure him more work, or tips and favours. He couldn’t think what would have changed now to make him so oblivious, unless it was simply that it was another ghoul, rather than a human? 

“He was clearly flirting with you, Snapdragon!” Mountain guffawed in disbelief. “Could you really not tell?” 

Swiss’s quizzical expression suggested that no, he had not been aware of that. Adding to his confusion was Mountain’s reaction: he seemed to be finding the fire ghoul’s actions funny now, but what had the growling and – he realised what it was now – scenting been about? The bounce in the taller ghoul’s gait could only be described as victorious, and he chose to file all the hope about why that could be away until after their performance tonight. That wasn’t a distraction he would allow himself today, not when Copia was relying on him. 

Swiss had a suspicion however – one he kept to himself – about why he hadn’t grasped what the fire ghoul was really suggesting, and it had everything to do with the earth ghoul trotting slightly ahead of him. He was self-aware enough to know his feelings for Mountain bordered on infatuation, and he figured that now he had become used to the intensity of those feelings that he had forgotten what anything smaller felt like. The thrill of attraction, or of a newly developing crush felt so insignificant now that they were dwarfed by the magnitude of his feelings for the earth ghoul. He only had eyes for Mountain, and the thought of anyone else thinking they stood a chance in the battle for his heart was laughable to him. Hastening his steps to catch up with Mountain, Swiss fell into step with him to revel in being by his side once again. 

Reaching the Den just before they did was an excitable Dewdrop. He burst through the main door, and then into the room he shared with Rain, brandishing a dull metal object. 

“Look!” He exclaimed to a slightly startled Rain lounging in their nest. “A horseshoe!”  

Rain could see that, although what he couldn’t see was why Dew was quite so excited about such a mundane object. He smiled at him with a questioning tilt of his head and waited for Dew to elaborate. 

“The humans do something with them at weddings,” Dew explained as he joined Rain on the bed, still clutching the curved iron shape, “something about them catching luck? I thought we could hang it on our door!” 

He held it out for Rain to examine, demonstrating how it could look like a vessel for capturing luck when held in a U-shape. Rain took it from him, and it really was just a regular horseshoe: slightly rusted and worn down from use. More interesting than the horseshoe though, Rain realised that this was the first time Dew had ever brought back something to keep for himself. He let Dew chatter on about needing to find a hammer and some nails, if they should think about painting their door before or after mounting the horseshoe, and what colour Rain would like if so, would he like teal? Rain nodded along, only half his mind on the conversation. The other half was preoccupied celebrating this relatively large step for Dewdrop; this was yet more proof that he was finally starting to settle properly and relax, putting down roots for himself and Rain, finally feeling a sense of permanence. 

“I got it when I went to see Cowbell just now,” Dew elaborated, “to check if they’re all ready to drive the cart down to the village tonight. They were just reshoeing the mare we brought with us from the village, so that means this shoe played a part in getting us out of there! It really is lucky!” 

Rain melted further. It was becoming increasingly apparent that deep down Dew had the potential to be an incredibly sentimental ghoul, and he couldn't wait to see how that continued. 

“It seems to be working so far then,” Rain murmured, holding it up, “I've had nothing but luck since you came back for me.” 

With that, he leaned in to steal a kiss; both the horseshoe and all talk of home décor soon being forgotten. 

The day seemed both to drag and pass all too quickly at the same time. Before they knew it, Swiss, Mountain and Sunshine were all dressed, and carefully buffing the metal masks that were a part of their outfits one final time. Copia had decided they added a nice touch to their costumes; the shining horns hinting at their ghoulish nature without actually revealing it. The whole Den was alive with excitement and nerves, the fervour growing as the light outside began to fade. 

Walking out to the front courtyard to meet Cowbell with the cart, Swiss proudly led the way with his guitar strapped to his back. This felt familiar, and more importantly it felt right; doubly so with Mountain by his side. Cowbell was leaned against the wooden trailer, as human-looking as anyone could remember ever seeing them before. They were smiling softly, although slightly apprehensively, as the pack approached. Behind the pack followed the Siblings of Sin, who had initially been keen for an evening out but now seemed to be regretting their decision. Swiss could smell the waves of alarm pouring off them as they got closer, none of them used to interacting with the ancient ghoul who lived in the stables. 

“Good evening, dear ghoul!”  

Copia greeted Cowbell as he bustled forward and hoisted himself up next to them at the front of the cart. The rest of them would be travelling in the back, even though none of them were particularly keen to be sharing the space. They had no choice however, and the Siblings dutifully lined up behind the crush of ghouls that were piling in and jostling for space on the narrow wooden benches. Rain and Dew happily squeezed themselves into a corner, and Swiss settled himself into another; Mountain willingly joining him and shuffling closer until their thighs were pressed tight against each other. There was eventually space made for everyone and with a jolt, the cart set off. The sudden motion and continued bumping along the cobbles of the courtyard threw Mountain even closer into Swiss. Even once they were onto the smoother path into the village, he remained plastered along Swiss’ side as the countryside flew by.  

It really was a beautiful evening, Swiss though as he glanced out at the trees and fields around them. The orange sunset cast its glow over everything, making the whole world look like it was on fire. Most vibrant of all however was Mountain; his auburn hair glowing in the light like it was itself aflame. With his large horns glamoured away, the russet glow was all that served to make him appear as otherworldly as he did. Swiss thought that the whole world around them could truly be on fire, and he would be happy to sit and burn if only to stare at Mountain for a second longer.  

They continued rattling down the hill towards the village, and Swiss felt a pang of longing when he spotted Dew with his head leaning on Rain’s chest; held against his front by the water ghoul's long arms. He wished he could be so casually affectionate with mountain, but he dared not. He wouldn’t allow himself to dream that until he had first concluded the hard part – making sure they really were both on the same page. He didn’t deserve such a reward without the prior work, he thought.  

All too soon they were slowing to a stop outside a wide stone building that was emitting a narrow stream of smoke from its chimney: the village tavern. The Siblings practically fell out of the cart, their instincts screaming at them to put some distance between themselves and the ghouls. 

“Go, my Children, enjoy yourselves!” Copia laughed as they threw themselves towards the tavern door. 

The ghouls were only slightly more restrained as they clambered down and spilled into the building. Cowbell made no move to follow the others inside, instead staying next to the pair of horses, stroking one's nose. Aether paused, looking back at them. 

“You aren't coming in?” he asked, worried that the ghoul didn’t realise that they were welcome in too. Cowbell shook their head. They didn’t like crowds, especially human ones, as the noise and bustle were too much for their deeply ancient mind to handle. Despite that, the biggest thing stopping them now however was their appearance: Cowbell gestured to their feet, where Aether saw that their hooves were very much still visible. 

“My glamour’s incomplete,” they shrugged, “’m out of practice. It’s been centuries since I last used it.” 

One day, Aether thought, he would ask Cowbell just how old they really were. He suspected it was millennia. 

“Go inside with the others,” Cowbell smiled a wonky smile, “I’ll be happier listening out here anyway. Besides, I have company.” They stroked the second horse. Reluctantly, Aether followed after the rest of the rabble he called pack, throwing a final look back at Cowbell. They were muttering something in the horse’s ear while continuing to pet them. It sounded to Aether like they were speaking Infernal, a language only spoken in the pit, or so he thought. The horse didn’t seem perturbed though, and she whinnied happily at the attention. 

Inside the tavern, the atmosphere was jovial already. The large room was dimly lit, wood-panelled walls and supporting columns all stained dark with years of fire and tobacco smoke. Scattered across the panelling were a patchwork of lighter sections from recent and less-recent repairs. The only lighting came from lanterns that lined the walls and hung directly from the vaulted ceiling, as well as a small number of candles dotted on tables that lent a cosy and friendly air to the place.  

Better lit however, was the makeshift stage against the wall. It was slightly raised, simply built from a few wooden planks resting on crates, but it did the job. On the other side was the bar, its countertop polished as smooth as glass from generations of patrons leaning on it. Along its length were a line of stools with faded fabric covers, and the remaining floor space was filled with a hodgepodge of tables and chairs, scattering in increasingly private settings ranging from the centre of the room to corners almost entirely shrouded in darkness. 

Leaping lightly onto the stage, Copia looked resplendent in his robes, with his face painted black and white in the mimicry of a skull. Swiss thought he cut an imposing figure, when he wasn’t turning around to look at his ghouls with nerve-tinged excitement at least. The man stretched his arms out wide, the candlelight flickering off his bedazzled chasuble and truly making him look like the head of the dark church. 

Before long, the tables began to fill up with locals, intrigued by the talk of visiting musicians from the mysterious Abbey up at the top of the hill. Rain, Dew and the other ghouls not performing settled themselves at the table nearest the stage, Dew looking particularly excited and practically bouncing in his seat beside Rain. Swiss didn’t know what had overtaken him recently, but he seemed so much lighter and carefree now. He assumed it was Rain. The bustling crowd completely filled the tavern as the four musicians took their places on stage. Swiss caught Mountain’s eye once he was settled on the box he used as percussion. He saw the twin green flashes of his eyes behind his mask wink at him, silently wishing him luck. Swiss beamed back at him, his teeth glinting in the firelight through the bottom of his mask. With a final tune of his guitar, and another smile at Sunny, Swiss nodded to Copia and the man addressed the crowd. 

The ritual passed in a blur, and before Swiss knew it, they were leaving the stage to rapturous applause and cheers. As he stepped down onto the solid floor, Swiss had a large beer thrust into his hands by a grinning stranger. The jubilant atmosphere continued as the night wore on, the ghouls and their Papa swept up with the crowd, never finding their tankards dry. Even the ghouls who had not been performing seemed to be having fun, spending the local money Copia had given them to allow them to fit in and enjoy the night. The man himself was circling through the crowd, inviting anyone and everyone to the Abbey’s harvest festival the following night. His plan to spread their message was going better than any one of them could have imagined, and he had gained the interest of several curious village members.  

The noise and ruckus were proving too much for Aether however, and after a while of watching Dew and Swiss race each other to down their pints, he grabbed a pair of tankards and slipped out the door. Another musician had taken the stage, an accordion player, and Aether found Cowbell tapping along to the beat on the frame and iron wheels of the cart with two sticks like it was a drum kit. Aether chuckled as he approached. 

“Copia ought to make the band all wear floor-length robes, then you could join them!” 

Cowbell looked slightly sheepish at being caught, but their forked tongue slipped out as they smiled anyway. They joined Aether where he perched on some crates and accepted one of the beers gratefully. Apart from the rhythmic sound of one foot and one hoof tapping on the ground, they sat in a comfortable silence; two friends enjoying each other’s quiet, unhurried company. 

Back inside, Swiss could feel every drop of alcohol going to his head, and he thought Mountain must be feeling it too. The night was blurring together into a busy cacophony of singing, cheering and laughing. The one thing he could feel coherently was the constant, grounding pressure of Mountain’s hands on him. The earth ghoul had slunk across the tavern to join him, then barely let him go all evening, always keeping a hold of his waist or hip, or letting their shoulders press against each other. If their tails weren’t safely hidden away, Swiss had the feeling that they too would be braided together.  

In his fuzzy mental state, he wasn’t entirely sure what could have brought such behaviour on. The almost possessive twinge to it, like Mountain was trying to ward the humans off, was making his him feel even more floaty than the alcohol. Running on a high from the successful performance, Swiss couldn’t find the mental energy to really care about why Mountain was suddenly glued to him, he only cared that he was. He saw Rain and Dew similarly pressed together, and his inebriated mind let him convince himself that they could be the same, if just for tonight. 

Whoever was on stage currently seemed to know the audience well and was gradually convincing more and more of the tavern’s patrons to dance to the jig he played. The humans pressing close, swirling and stamping to the beat, swept the ghouls up in their fervour. Swiss soon found himself pressed closer to Mountain, dancing partners even without indenting to be, the pair clutching each other's arms for balance as they ebbed and flowed with the tide of the crowd. 

As the dance ended, Swiss fell against Mountain’s chest. The earth ghoul held him close while they both caught their breath and laughed at the exhilaration. For a while, they held each other and swayed to a slow dance only they could hear. Hearts beating in sync, Swiss looked up at Mountain to see him already staring down at him. His peridot eyes were at the centre of his vision, the only thing Swiss could focus on. They seemed to grow and expand to fill his field of view, and Swiss only realised that this was because they were getting closer together when the twin points of light blurred out of focus.  

Swiss’s eyes fluttered shut, and with his vision gone all his other senses heightened in response. He could feel Mountain’s breath against his face and could smell the sour note of beer in it, although he didn’t find that as off-putting as he supposed he should as he stretched up on his tiptoes to bring them closer still. Swiss felt rather than heard Mountain’s final sigh against him, before the soft yet insistent press of Mountain’s lips to his shook him like an earthquake. With all their prior hesitancy washed away by the free-flowing liquor, Swiss pressed back instinctually, throwing his arms around Mountain’s shoulders and holding on like his life depended on it.  

Time meant nothing to the pair as they ignored the general ruckus of the crowd around them, and the chorus of whoops and cheers that Dew was leading. It was like all the background noise had faded away leaving only them stood in a world of their own. Before long, although it was really several hours at this point, Copia was desperately trying to shepherd his sleepy, tipsy ghouls and the Siblings into the cart to head back to the Abbey. They had a busy day tomorrow, he reminded them, as he had promised all the villagers that their little band would be performing at the harvest festival too.  

Slowly, they all stumbled out into the brisk night where Aether and Cowbell were waiting, three sheets to the wind themselves. Swiss and Mountain had managed to make it over the threshold of the tavern without separating, but getting into the cart proved more difficult. Breathing their own air for the first time in a while, they unsteadily clambered into the trailer, cramming themselves into a corner to continue where they left off, despite the jeers from the ghouls around them. 

“Even we're not that bad!” Swiss thought he heard Dew crow from somewhere behind him. 

Eventually, they had made the short trip back up the hill and were all bumbling back into the Abbey, still drunk off free beer and good energy. Kiss broken, Swiss continued to hold Mountain's hand as he pulled them into the Den and their room. He kicked his boots off, uncaring where they landed as they tumbled into bed, still giggly and touchy but both too tired to do any more than that.  

“Today was fun.” Swiss purred sleepily, as he wriggled in Mountain's arms. The earth ghoul was almost asleep already as he hummed in affirmation. Quickly, they fell into a deep, contented sleep. They could think about what the events of tonight meant for them in the morning. 

To be continued... 

[hannahluvsbillie]

causal.

pairing: billie x reader

a/n: this is my first time writing a blurb like this! sorry if it’s lowkey messy and confusing, let me know if it is 😓. i came up with this idea half awake at 1 am and i thought i’d post it here!! ok bye im talking too much

warnings: none (maybe angst if you squint)

“this’ll be casual right?”

billie says, looking into your eyes. the moon shining through the windshield of her car, giving the car a type of lighting that can’t be recreated, especially as it’s shining on her.

you nod. you’ll regret nodding in the later months. when everything doesn’t feel casual. especially these car rides you two have. where she picks you up, then somehow you two end up in the backseat, her between your legs, praising you like your the only woman that really matters to her.

“yeah. causal.” you say under your breath.

billie just nods, smile still lingering on her face as she backs up out of the parking spot and starts to drive back to your apartment.

i tried to be the cool girl that holds her tounge and gives you space.

you and billie were driving, again. it’s become a weekly routine of yours. she picks you up, then she drives to nowhere in specific. then you end up in a parking lot, in the back seat. every. time.

suddenly, her phone lights up. out of pure instinct you look down at it, seeing a DM from instagram. you immediately recognize the username, that’s the girl you saw in her following. it was almost like the username lit up with red light to you.

billie glances over and sees you looking down at her phone, she casually puts her hand over the phone and flips it over to where you couldn’t see it. of course she’s hiding it from you.

whatever, it wasn’t like you two where exclusive. no matter how much you wished you two were, it would never happen.

a few weeks later, you two where in the same spot. the same thing happened. her phone lit up with the same username.

it may of been the lack of sleep you got last night, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“who’s that?” you say softly, glancing up at billie.

“hm?” she hums, her hand resting on your thigh. she looks down at her phone and if you weren’t staring at her, you wouldn’t of seen it. but the slightest bit of anxiety crosses her face.

“oh, just some girl.” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing.

she does the same thing she did last time, and the time before last. she flips her phone over.

“are yall two… like a thing?” you say softly, your voice dripping with anxiety.

“don’t worry about it mama.” she says, looking over at you for a split second.

you wanted to chuck her phone out the window at that moment, irritated by her causal response.

you take a deep breath, this could either lead to another argument or to just a brush off response from her. deep down you hoped for the latter.

“how many girls do you talk to bills?” you say, your tone comes off annoyed. your true emotions showing.

her hand grips your thigh just a bit harder, and her eyebrows raised at your tone.

“whys it matter?”

“we aren’t exclusive.” she says the last sentence under her breath.

that last sentence felt like she just stabbed you in the chest. even though you knew deep down that was the truth, you had found yourself believing a false reality, that maybe she did want more with you. that you could be her one and only.

“oh- i was just wondering.” you say, sounding small. she always had a way to make you feel like you were in the wrong.

but no, it was all just a game to her. your just another one of the girls she talks to. you always will be to her.

[p1xiemeat]

since the ppl i was trying to avoid have already found my new blog, there's no point in trying to hide it anymore.

my new blog is @faerymeat 🧚🏻‍♀️🎀🥩

i decided i am going to leave this blog up for all the ppl who like my edits🖤 maybe i will come back to it in the future but for now im really enjoying having a fresh blog🥰

im so sorry if u messaged me asking for my new username and i didnt reply to it.

soo many ppl asked for it which made me so happy because i had no idea how many ppl actually love my content🥺 it makes me feel a lot better knowing i have a lot more kind ppl watching my page than i had thought and i really genuinely appreciate all of you🖤

i also decided to reactivate my twitter too.

i know that no matter what i do or say someone is always gonna criticize me for it.

it doesn't matter how many new pages i make in attempt to hide from the ppl who wont leave me alone, because they always manage to track me down in a matter of days. even when i block them right after creating it -_-

so yeah, there's literally no point in trying to hide from them anymore. and i shouldnt even have to. i've already been lied about, insulted, harassed, and blocked by hundreds of ppl so what difference does it make to just keep posting what makes me happy? im just gonna be myself and let ppl believe what they want.

after the experiences i've had with internet thugs, i am forever going to have some sort of anxiety when i go online. i will always feel unsafe because of them. i have such bad paranoia when choosing whether or not to reply to a message from someone because these ppl have befriended me just to post our private conversations online or to make fun of me behind my back.

but my love and desire to create and express myself outweighs all that. some days i just can't handle being online mentally. and sometimes i wanna hurt myself knowing whats been said about me by people who will never even know me. i've tried to change myself in order to avoid harassment only to be made fun of for different things. i'm damned if i do & damned if i don't.

even though she's just a video game character, this quote by alice inspired me and made me decide to just do whatever makes me happy without letting other ppl stop me. 🖤

its always been 1 of my favorite quotes from the game, but seeing it pop up on my feed earlier helped me make this decision to just say fuck it and be myself, unapologetically 🥰

[otaku553]

Otaku, do u know what otaku means ?

Yep! that’s why I mostly go by Jen on all my platforms now instead of Otaku like I did before haha

I have some thoughts on this so I’m gonna put it in a read more

For those who don’t Wikipedia has a good page with the definition on it and the word can mostly be boiled down to “geek” or someone with a consuming or obsessive interest, though usually used in the context of liking anime/manga or games. You can also find it used in anime for other things, i.e. in Detective Conan, Ran calls Shinichi “推理オタク” (suiri-otaku, detective/mystery nerd)

For some context on why I chose this name, I started getting into anime in 4th grade and pretty much watched nothing but anime after that. I chose the name Long Ago first as a username for Toram Online, as otaku555 instead of 553. It really felt like a lot of my defining trait in early middle school was just my interest in anime since I didn’t know many other people who watched it at school.

I feel like especially with the term weeaboo starting to get popular at the time, I enjoyed the word “otaku” because it seemed to have less of the negative japanophile connotations? But I also definitely did not know enough about Japanese language or culture at the time to call myself an otaku I feel— it seems like there is a historically negative connotation for otaku in Japanese culture as well.

At this point it’s become pretty inseparable from my identity online as an artist, which I why I never changed it, though I would be lying if I said I had no regrets about the username. I’ve had an incredibly strong admiration for Japanese culture since childhood and it’s difficult upon reflection to tell where admiration turned into infatuation and into misrepresenting a culture that wasn’t mine. So nowadays I do try to be a lot more careful about that. Hence, I go by Jen now.

That said! I do think that if you enjoy a culture it never hurts to learn more about it from good sources. I.e. don’t learn your Japanese from anime alone: make sure you have a teacher who knows about the manners and the nuances of respect in the language. It’s easy to think from a young age that you know a lot about a culture just because you consume their media but the world exists outside of that media and spreading views of a culture based solely on a singular and limited experience can be harmful, not only to the people misrepresented but also to yourself if you ever end up interacting with people from the culture.

I don’t know if this conveys all my thoughts as well as I hoped, but that’s my two cents on my username and the connotations of the word otaku and its relatives.

[knifegremliin]

go fuck yourself.

[velvetwyrme]

( ❌ ) Sorry! That name is taken :(

Figuring out a username is tough. So... why not outsource it ;)?

The upcoming chapters of Flipping Fate require Edge to have a username, so we figured we should open that up to y'all to decide! This is all for fun, so go buck wild! Do you want to give him the coolest, most badass username? Or perhaps you want him to be embarrassed to even type it? (Maybe his brother got into his account and changed it?)

We'll hold another poll with your submissions once this poll ends so that you guys can decide what username he gets stuck with >;3c

[diamonds-at-y11]

Saw everyone talking about how Minecraft story mode is a better adaption than the literal MOVIE and it got me thinkin

Minecraft story mode is the game I vividly remember playing on our xbox in the little room connected to the attic with my sister beside me. I was a Minecraft obsessed kid and this game was so COOL to me at the time. Minecraft??? My beloved game??? But with a story???? That I get to be a part of and change??? Obviously a lot of people don’t like Minecraft story mode and that’s completely understandable, it’s pretty silly and hard to take seriously, but one thing it was was GENUINE. It had unique characters and a story that was new and exciting while still completely grounded in the world of Minecraft. You fought monsters and rode mine carts and interacted with cool red stone stuff and survived a fall from thousands of blocks up by falling into water and when that stupid fucking pig died a pork chop floated on the ground. It was so stupidly, unambiguously, completely, genuinely Minecraft. You were literally a character born and raised in the game. It even had beloved Minecraft YouTubers as guests in a silly murder mystery (that was actually the coolest thing ever ngl). It was for the fans, fully committed to the world the fans already loved. 

Who is this movie even for?? Why does it make this wishy-washy half commitment to the very game it’s adapting?? WHY IS IT ISEKAI?? Where’s the nostalgia?? The childhood experience of playing around in the silly block game with your siblings, not a care in the world?? Why is the sheep on sonic trailer levels of horrifically realistic?? This game is about BLOCKS thats its whole THING that’s why we love it you FOOLS. Why are there curves!? (That can’t happen without mods!!!) WHY IS JACK BLACK HERE?? 

You had such a beautiful, beloved, game with such genuine heart and meaning. The end poem literally makes me CRY and I don’t CARE how stupid that sounds. I don’t even want to try to describe it just go read it. And I just know the movie is going to have such a surface level depiction of what the game is, designed to be brainrot easily consumable for 7 year olds. Something tells me the people who made this movie would just skip past the credits anyways.

[tumblasha]

headcanon that hero schools and agencies are in charge of making hero merch. so there's some deku merch out there up until midoriya graduates. then there's merch of him again after eight years when he becomes a fighting pro-hero once more.

high school bakugou bought a plushie here and there while he was still in UA. but pro-hero dynamight?? #1 deku fan??? once he has to stop financially contributing to the mechasuit, he actually starts collecting every piece of his merch. his new collection's price doesn't even come close to deku's hero suit's monthly contributions. his collector fanboy nerd self is very pleased <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

A storm falls like a harbinger of his return. Winds batter the siding and the windows rattle with the speckle of cold rain. The chill creeps through the walls as you ration the last few pieces of wood.  

As you quake before the fireplace, the door swings open and hits the frame, adding to the cacophony of nature’s rage. You hardly have a moment to react as his dark figure falls on you like a wraith. You flail your legs as the blanket catches on a lose tile before the crackling flames and he drags you across the floor. 

Your heels bounce futilely on the rug as the rain blows through the open door. The man once known as a hero, the man lost to the ice all those centuries ago, take you into the bedroom and flings you like a rag doll. Like a thing. 

You hit the food of the bed and land on the floor with a crash. You groan as your bones ache, not only with the impact but from the endless tension. As you writhe, he steps over you, smearing blood onto your night gown as he grabs the tinged fabric. 

He hauls you up so you stand on your toes. You smell the iron stained into his body armor. You look up at the mask that hides him. You try to imagine those blue eyes but you only see a monster. He is only the indomitable villain that plucked you out of your own life. 

He hurls you across the bed and you gasp as you land on your side. You roll onto your stomach and crawl up the mattress. He catches your ankle and tears you back as the frame dips with his weight. You rip the sheets into a wrinkle as you fight to escape him. 

This isn’t the man that left. This isn’t the docile stranger trapped in indecision. You sense in him a furor worse than that wailing outside the cabin.  

He flips you onto your back and grabs the front of the linen nightgown. He rents the fabric down the middle and exposes your body. You bat at his hands without effect as you wriggle. He pushes a knee between both of yours, splaying you wide. 

He grips your hips and hauls your closer. You squeak and reach up, clawing desperately for any escape. There’s nothing by the flat pillows and the top of the rumpled sheets. He pushes a hand up your body and stretches it around your neck. 

You still and whimper as you put your hand on his wrist. You flick the tears with your lashes and whine. Terror swells in your chest and floods through your veins like icy water. You can’t fight him. Not physically. 

“Please, don’t,” you beg as you touch his knuckles. “Please, you don’t have to--” You wheezes as his hand squeezes tighter. “You don’t have to do this. Please, please, I’m scared. I’m scared...” you croak between willowy heaves, “it hurts. Please don’t hurt me anymore.” You trail your hand up his arm, feeling the rough fabric, dirty dusting off beneath your graze, “Captain... Steve Rogers--” 

His hand nearly crushes your throat and cuts off your next plea. Your head pounds and your tears trickle out unchecked. No, no, that was wrong. You shouldn’t have said any of that. You’re just so scared. 

You close your eyes as your skull pulse and you choke for a breath, clasping onto his thick forearm as you try to ease his hold on you. His other hand pushes away the night gown so it splays around you. He shoves his hands between your legs, rough as he pokes at your folds. 

He wiggles his fingertips impatiently and rams into you without warning. You smack his bicep desperately as he jerks you with hard thrusts. You whimper and your eyes snap open as his hand slips just enough for you to gulp in a breath. 

He rips his hand away and shifts on his knees. He struggles to undo his fly, growing more impatient as the sheaths and weapons get in his way. You try not to look at him as you know what he means to do. 

All that hope, that sliver of hope that you had before, that he might be gentle, that he might be appeased, is gone. You latch onto his arm as you brace himself. You jostle on the mattress with his movement. He leans weight on your neck as he looms over you. 

He pushes his knees wider and pushes along your cunt once more. You can tell it’s him; not his fingers, but that other part of him. His blunt tip strains against you as your body tries to resist the intrusion. He grunts and bucks his hips. As he breaks through you gurgle and dig your nails into his sleeve. 

He snarls as he curls his hand around your hip and jerks again. He thrusts deeper and your eyes roll back as your body locks up in agony. He dips his hand around your neck and lifts you, bringing you into his lap as he tilts again. 

He bottoms out as he hooks his thick arm around you and cradles your head with his hand. You hang off him limply as you suck in air. Tendrils of pain entwine you and have you paralysed and prone. If you fight, it will only be worse. 

He rocks you in his lap. He growls and hangs his head down next to yours. He moves your head to the side and presses his cowl against your next. You babble and snivel each time he sinks into you.  

The storm has swept away the calm at last and you’re lost to the dark clouds.

[lucid-daydreaming-art]

this is like the third time ive had to post something like this but you guys need to stop treating unodum like a celebrity or fangirl over him or act like its some sort of gift to be talked to by him or especially treat his friends weirdly because they talk to him regularly. ive gotten word that his friends are being treated as special just because they have connections to him and being asked to like say stuff to him or whatever??? which is legitimately very very gross behavior. cause its not only really uncomfortable for uno but it gets very awkward and uncomfortable for me and his friends. im aware my popularity in the regretevator fandom is largely because im associated with him and in all honesty from the START that concept has made me pretty upset. neither me nor his other friends want to be seen as special just because we’re close to him. its part of why i didnt make much outside of the blog AND why i just abandoned the blog and the fandom altogether. i think a lot of you guys are a younger audience and are still learning internet etiquette and social boundaries, but this needs to be a lesson in how NOT to treat others on the internet, especially content creators. this isnt to say dont attempt to build friendships with people you think are cool and feel like you have things in common with, but you cant go into that with the mindset of “i worship you notice me.” you need to understand that no matter how popular your favorite creator is, theyre literally just a person. thats it. just a person. not a god, not a character, just a person. im really fed up

[adozentothedawn]

Paper mosaic Saint Waidwen in different lighting cause my camera is bad.

[commandertartarsmoocher]

*trundles into your askbox* guess who dug through this entire blog! Hellar it makes me so insanely happy to see more people enjoying this cringe phone I've been on this grind for five years now all alone. Some of my older drawings are in here too I used to be stobotnik :} cheggout my BAG

Holy moly guacamole, that is an amazing Commander Tartar ita bag you got there!

I am so in love with the blender-thingamajig... ohhh look at Agent 8 in there with the lil memcakes... And Tartar on top of the blender... It's so creative!

Yep, this is the best thing I've seen in a long time.

Super duper mega awesome stuff, thank you for showing this to me 🫶

[inkdemonapologist]

What are your thoughts on the characterization of the ink demon himself?

In BatDR? Ehhhhh…….

There’s plenty of room for interesting headcanons, especially what with the Ink Demon and Bendy behaving so differently. A lot of folks have imagined it as a Jekyll & Hyde type situation, which is neat, or just an internal Venom-esque “the souls of the innocent/two bagels” dynamic. Or there’s the interpretation that the Ink Demon deep down wants the love and acceptance he gets as Baby Bendy; he’s the same guy, but his emotions have been messed with and he’s being treated differently so he reacts differently, which is a take I actually really like.

Just looking at the Ink Demon on his own, it’s SO easy to read him as a teenager, thinking he’s so cool and edgy talking about his Dark Kingdom, not looking like Bendy anymore b/c hes decided wanting to look like Bendy is cringy and he’s TOUGH AND POINTY NOW – then making The Dumbest Mistake at the end by letting Audrey possess him because he thinks it’ll make him more powerful, and having no idea how to fix it, but still trying to act cool. The idea of BatIM’s Ink Demon being the equivalent of a frustrated child lashing out, and BatDR’s Ink Demon being a teenager who has internalised that he’ll be harmed if he’s not powerful and has embraced being evil and violent and hated as a shield, is an interpretation that makes sense to me. There was this GREAT fanart I vaguely recall but cannot find again of the Ink Demon with a symbolic birdcage in the middle of his chest where the little Bendy rocked peacefully on a swing – Bendy as the piece of him that’s scared and hurt, a piece he’s pushed from sight more and more in favour of making himself more sharp and cruel, but now can’t always hide, is a REALLY INTERESTING thematic concept.

But the truth is that we didn’t get any of those things --

Bendy and the Ink Demon being the same creature is a really interesting development that is literally never touched on beyond explaining how and why it happened. What does Bendy think of the Ink Demon form? What does the Ink Demon think of the Bendy form? Are they two consciousnesses, or the same guy? Really obvious questions that you’d think would be inherently guaranteed to come up due to the premise, but they don’t! Audrey discovers that Baby Bendy and the Ink Demon are the same entity and seems to feel exactly nothing about this? She still supports ending the Ink Demon, even though he’s the little cartoon devil she made friends with and said she didn’t want to hurt… it just seems like there should at least be a conflicted feeling somewhere. The Ink Demon himself is portrayed as Just Evil, and nothing challenges that, to a level that’s so bizarre that it really feels like the NARRATIVE ITSELF is baffled by the idea that anyone might question the basic idea of "Scary Demon Bad, Cute Bendy Good". And I’ve talked before about how strange Joey’s final speech comes across once you notice this, as he brushes the Demon off as an “evil face” while telling Audrey how special and perfect and loved she is, and the whole moment is framed as though we’re meant to be encouraged by Joey, and not wincing at the way he disregards the demon he mistreated and abandoned.

The Ink Demon has been regarded as a soulless, monstrous mistake by various characters throughout this whole series, locked up and now literally, unambiguously tortured because of it, and it’s easy to imagine the story that assertion suggests – one where the Ink Demon’s cruelty is the result of him being cast out and treated with disgust by humans, like Mewtwo or some kind of inky Frankenstein. But in BatDR, we never see any hint that the initial reading of “monstrous mistake” is incorrect. As if locking him up was the correct, smart thing to do, and creating Baby Bendy to trap him and cause him pain was a good move, and the only problem is that it can’t be made permanent.

I think the closest we get to seeing something more from the Demon is his line to Audrey about being a mistake and a monster, “like me.” I really like his speech in that scene… He could simply be trying to manipulate her, but it’s so easy to read as projection, as if the only way the Ink Demon could reveal his own betrayed feelings is by accusing someone else of them. And then… nothing really comes of it. Everyone continues regarding the Demon as a purely evil monster. When the Ink Demon lashes out at Joey, it’s not framed as a reaction to being rejected so explicitly, it’s just… trying to stop him because Joey’s getting through to the Demon’s intended prey (with bonus points for "the wretch is mine" making him feel particularly scummy). You can still imagine he’s motivated by those things, but I really feel like you have to come into the story with that assumption in order to see it there.

This isn’t saying that the Demon has to not be a bad guy for his characterisation to be compelling – like, for example, Audrey could just have a short moment of realising that if Bendy IS the Ink Demon, there must be more to the Demon than we can see – but decide he’s too dangerous to risk giving up the chance to stop him (WHICH SURE WOULD BE INTERESTING GIVEN THE TRAJECTORY OF HER FATHER’S LIFE, HUH). He can still be a violent monster who is creepy at Audrey, tries to kill her, lies to her, and then eats(???) her. He doesn’t have to behave sympathetically for the narrative to acknowledge that he’s been treated unfairly, and the other characters don’t have to give him a chance at redemption in order to be believably good people. But it feels weird that…. the narrative never seems to notice??? Anywhere???? ESPECIALLY AFTER MENTIONING THE TORTURE EXPERIMENTS??? I think Malice’s writing in this game was incoherent, but the narrative’s treatment of her was humane; she’s violent and cruel and has to be stopped, but the character who keeps having to drive a sword through her torso still feels for her and notices her pain. It’s bafflingly wild that Audrey never really gets a moment like this for the demon.