#i know i know i will not survive the winter etc you don't have to remind me what happens to overly compassionate people

[remyfire]

I totally get not caring for a particular character or ship or something. We all have our own tastes. What I don’t understand is why some people feel the need to be total assholes towards those who do like a character or ship that they can’t stand.

On the flip side, some people do need to grow a thicker skin and accept the fact that not everyone likes their favorite character or ship or whatever.

This is one of those asks where unfortunately I’m not able to tell if you’re sending it to me in good faith or bad faith, which is a shame. I’m hoping it’s good faith, so I’d like to answer seriously and trust that you’ll take it that way also.

Let me start by saying that I don't believe anyone is under the impression that everyone should like their favorite character or ship. We're all adults here. We all know that preferences exist. It's a matter of how we choose to honor and respect those preferences.

There are absolutely instances where a thicker skin should be grown. I can think of a number of situations where that can happen, such as if people are having a civil discussion about things they disagree about, but because one of the parties feels uncomfortable, they start throwing pretty rough accusations or virtue signaling to try and make the conversation end as quickly as possible. I get it. It can feel super icky and squirmy if someone has a different viewpoint from ours. Sometimes it’s really hard just to say, “Hey, I feel a little cornered. I wanna check in that we’re both still feeling okay about this, and if we’re not, then I’d like to agree to disagree. We can just leave it here with mutual respect, all right?”

But there’re also times where it really doesn’t come down to someone being overly sensitive. It comes down to downright meanness and rudeness.

Let’s be honest. There is a very high probability that you and I both know what’s being talked about. I don’t have to spell it out. So let’s be frank with each other. If you go through one of these tags, post after post of insightful, creative, loving, funny, interesting commentary, and not a single rude or mean thing to be said. The other one, a similar situation, but interspersed with just outright rude, mean, and intentionally inflammatory comments that absolutely did not need to be put in the tag at all. There seems to be this belief that certain characters or ships are disliked with an equal amount of vehemence, like two warring factions. This is clearly not accurate.

This isn’t a situation where someone just needs to grow a thicker skin. If there is a ship/character tag that is completely left alone by the people who don’t care for it versus a ship/character tag that keeps getting rudeness filtered in every so often, this doesn’t mean that the latter group of enjoyers should just…not experience annoyance about it nor withhold expressing that annoyance. And again, there is a distinct difference between civil discussion/disagreement/opposing opinions and intentionally inflammatory statements. I like to believe that people can generally tell the difference between them and react accordingly.

Everyone is free to express their own thoughts on this platform as long as they’re not against TOS. We all know this and we all respect this. This applies also to how we choose to use tags. There is a generally understood etiquette that if you’re saying something just outright mean about a character or a ship, you don’t put it in that specific tag. This is not a requirement. No one is asserting that it is. It’s just a polite courtesy because we recognize that tags are used by the people who browse those characters/ships because they enjoy them, so we don’t typically like to rain on their parade.

But this also means that if someone says something rude—if someone walks into somebody’s sandbox and kicks sand in their eyes—then they have no room to whine if that person stands up and complains about it, and they really have no excuse for doubling down with EXTRA rudeness either. If someone tells us not to tease an animal, and we do it twenty times in a row anyway, then ultimately we are responsible for the fact that we were bitten.

Notably, I am saying this about all people involved in a fandom. Including those who are intentionally inflammatory in the tags of posts where they really did not need to commentate. There's a way to say, "I'm surprised by this and I really don't understand how we got here," without implying that anyone who disagrees is lacking in taste. Again, differing preferences. Respecting them. Standing up and walking away from the keyboard if we experience a big and overwhelming emotion in our chest so we can ensure that we don't just kick a hornet's nest for the sake of feeling personally superior. So anyway! After that big long ramble, I’m happy to say that I agree with you. I just also believe in people’s right to express annoyance—especially if it’s untagged and on their own blog—when someone shows up and, again, kicks the sand around. And hell, for all I know, maybe you agree with that too and I made some assumptions about this ask out of habit due to some particularly awful anon asks that I’ve gotten recently. But I’d really, really like it if there was less sandkicking all around because, y’all, I really like it here. I love all of these characters and ships so fucking much. You only have to glance at my AO3 page to see that. And I’d really like to keep having fun with you all instead of flinching every time Tumblr yet again recommends me a super intentionally inflammatory post in a tag that I follow.

[lilithdeparis]

A little help.

I swear to you guys

I've been having meaningless thoughts lately

l have to write it down, even tho l requsted it to someone.

If you don't like anything from here or don't feel comfortable reading about it, please don't read.

Forewarning: It will definitely be smut, the reader is a single mom, breastfeeding, etc.

Summry: The reader is a single mother who is having trouble breastfeeding her baby, but Simon wants to make it easy for her and helps her with it.

After six years in the army, you suddenly had to take a break, and that break was probably because you were pregnant out of nowhere.

Well of course you knew exactly who the father of the child was, but after talking with him about the pregnancy, you once again realized that sleeping with him that night was the biggest mistake of your life.

It was not easy for you to leave the army, probably because you had many friends there, and not only that, but you also loved your job very much.

You already talked about the problem with your Captain, you wanted to tell others the reason why you had to leave, but somehow you were embarrassed ? It's as if you imagined yourself as that stupid girl you always said you won't be,

"How can I have fun with a man for one night and get pregnant."

You used to say always and the love of a idle man really dragged your life to end, as if, as they say, God was laughing at you.

You left Task Force 141 and left all your friends behind, and the most painful thing was to see those disappointed eyes through the skull masked merciless Lieutenant, who once valued you so much, but now thought you betrayed him.

The pregnancy was the most difficult for you, you had no one by your side, no one at all, went to the doctor alone, took care of yourself alone, you didn't have a man who would run to the end of the world for you in the middle of the night to find strawberries in the middle of winter.

But you were a strong woman, you survived the worst, and you knew that the day you found out the gender of your baby, you would go through anything for your little girl.

And that's what happened, you walked to the hospital alone because you spilled too much water and left the hospital in a five days with a small, healthy and beautiful girl in your arms.

When you hold little Vivienne in your arms first, you felt as if all the problems around you were gone, after that day everything seemed to be going better and better, you had enough money because of your old job, you had a house, and now you had a beautiful daughter.

You continued living with your daughter, waking up with her in the morning, feeding her, taking care of her, enjoying her and you didn't want anything else until one New Year's day, you heard a knock on the door of your house.

Your six-month-old girl, who was still wrapped in cute deer pajamas, you immediately took her in your arms because when you left her at such a time, she cried, that's why you immediately went to the door with your girl in your hands.

As you open the door, met those familiar cold eyes and skull mask.

The man fastly turned his blue eyes to you and then looked at the little girl, he looked a little surprised. "Did you start working as a nanny ?"

"What ?! Of course not, this is my daughter."

It was the only thing that came out of your mouth in protest and that surprised Simon even more.

"And when did you have time to have a baby ?"

Simon asked directly and didn't even think before you closed the door, he put his foot between the door and opened it strongly, he was strong then and still is.

"Listen, I don't have time for you, I have to feed Vivi."

You said and the man didn't even listen, he entered the house with his muddy boots and closed the door behind him.

In ten minutes, both of you were in the living room, you were still holding Vivienne, Simon sitting on the couch, was looking at you still, he didn't seem to know what to do, should he be angry with you ? Should he be happy or should he just reached for your waist and kissed you hard because of longing ?

"Tell me why you hid from me ? you know that I would understand you, for you I would be the Simon that I was not with anyone else."

The man looked at you and said, then looked at the little girl, and as if there was sadness somewhere in his words, which was the most unusual for a lieutenant you knew.

As if you didn't need much to open up, just a little push which Simon happend to do, you immediately sat next to Simon with the baby in your arms and told him everything that happened to you, everything what you went through without him.

"I didn't want to leave you, but I had no choice, I was ashamed to tell you about my pregnancy."

Those were your last words, and after that tears started to fall from your eyes, you couldn't hold them back.

The man laughed suddenly, his big scarred hands immediately went to your face and the man wiped the tears from your eyes.

"Damn, what a fool you are."

He said and gently grabbed your chin, then lifted your head up and you couldn't see through his mask but you were sure he was smiling.

Before it could turn into something more romantic, Vivienne suddenly burst into tears and that because she was hungry.

You immediately started to calm her down, while Simon's big hands now went towards your angel's small hands.

"It's amazing how small and innocent ."

The man muttered to himself, you hear it too, perhaps life was amazing, the hands of an man with lots of human blood on it and the hands of a little angel who has never felt anything other than her mother's breast.

"Listen, can l hold her in my hands ?" Simon seemed to have the courage and asked and you didn't even need a few minutes to think because Simon was the only guy you trusted with your little girl.

The man took the little child in his hands, the hands with which he mercilessly suffocated and chocked men, so gently, he was so careful that even you were surprised and smiled.

In a few seconds, Vivienne started to look at Simon's mask and even touched it with her little hands, In one part, I think she even wanted to drool over the mask, which made the man laugh.

"Soo is this your little troublemaker ?"

Simon said and looked at the little girl who was smiling, maybe if there was someone else in her place, she would have broken her hand for holding on to his mask, but Vivienne, like you, already had the right.

"I think I better feed her or she might really drool over your mask."

You smiled and said, looking back at Simon, who nodded and gently hand the baby to you.

You watched him for the next minute, hoping he would figure out what to do, but then, when he didn't understand anything, you tell him.

"I have to breastfeed her Simon, could you... ?"

Simon looked at you and then when he understood, he shook his head, realized that it wouldn't be entirely comfortable for you to be watched by him, so he turned away.

When you fed Vivienne, the girl's stomach was so full that she fell asleep in seconds and you immediately put her to bed.

Although you had problems because you always had more milk left, full breast.

When you put the little one to bed, you tiredly went out to the living room where Simon was still sitting on the couch waiting for you and sat next to him.

"Vivi will probably be asleep for a long time."

You sighed and continued talking, but you didn't realize that Simon was busy with something else, he was probably already dying to see your big tits naked, In his hands or his cock right between them.

"Simon, are you listening?"

You spoke and the man immediately looked down at your chest, seeing the leaked milk coming from your breasts on your T-shirt.

"Listen, I think you have a problem with your chest right there."

Simon said it as sarcastic as he used to be with you most of the time, while you immediately looked down at your chest.

"Damn it's leaking, I need a drainer."

You spoke and before you got up, the man immediately put his hand on your waist, gently pushed you back on your sit.

"Listen, I can help you."

The man said in all seriousness and you raised an eyebrow, immediately asking. "And How ?"

The man immediately put his arm around your waist and placed you on his laps, so that he was now looking directly at your breast.

"Shhh, don't ask questions, I know you want my help."

The man spoke and then lifted his mask just up his nose, slowly moved his hand under your T-shirt to your stomach, and soon your T-shirt was nowhere to be seen, so that now you were in a white bra only.

"Damn it, how I missed them."

The man spoke and placed his lips on your stomach and kissed it gently, then slowly moved up.

"Hmmm Simon a bit fast."

Upon hearing your complaint, the man immediately take off your bra and almost started drooling when he saw your breasts so full and round because of milk.

"What a good girl you are, damn it."

The man cupped both of your breasts with his big hands and then bent his head so that he kissed one and then the other.

Before you could say anything, the man pressed his lips to your breast at full speed and then sucked hard with his tongue around nipple, squeezing it with all his might, more milk started to leak.

The man this time took both your breasts firmly in his hands and squeezed one harder to make the milk come out, when he pulled his head out, he looked at you, who had both hands covering your mouth.

"Honey, this is the best milk I've ever tasted."

You can ask me anything you want guys, l will try to write it, because l have no brain to think about it much, thank you for reading it ☆

[somerandomdudelmao]

what are the post-apocalyptic takes on holidays? christmas/hanukkah/whatever you celebrate, halloween, etc? how do they celebrate them, if they actually celebrate them anymore?

I think they rarely celebrate anything. I think almost none of them even know what month or time of year it is, because the Krangs screwed up the weather and now things like winter and summer no longer exist.

Donnie keeps track of the dates, though. Well... he did.

He grew something special in the greenhouse for the holidays. It wasn't much, but to kids who grew up in the apocalypse, a holiday didn't mean "hey, another year has passed" or "today is a special day because of tradition."

To them, a holiday was "today we eat good food and all the adults smile, remembering the days before Krangs.

The people of the resistance are tired of fighting. And they don't have the energy to make real preparations for the holidays. But they do little things on special days, just because at least there must be something in their lives other than survival

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Something I Can Turn To

And now for something different again! I took the AU in 'Domestic AU' and I ran with it! So this is your classic sort of everyone's alive alternate universe, set some nebulous time in the current-ish era, wherein Charles and Edwin attended school together and both survived (slash saved each other from) their canon deaths. It's just a sweet and slightly sad little thing that doesn't go into a huge amount of detail, but I got very attached to it so who knows, maybe in future I'll expand on the backstory! Warnings for references to their pasts and the bullying, child abuse etc. that went on there, as well as to injuries, scars and trauma that resulted from it. But we're not getting into super nitty-gritty detail and hopefully the overall vibe is one of love and safety! Still, tread carefully if those topics are at all triggering for you 💛 2.3k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Charles!" Edwin called — bravely poking his face out from the warm duvet to be heard. "The advertisements are over!"

"Coming, coming!"

Charles scurried into the room moments later, two cups of tea in his hands. He huffed and puffed as he padded along the floorboards in hole-riddled socks. "Cold, cold, cold," he muttered, thrusting the cups towards Edwin in a sloshy, mildly dangerous manner. "Grab these a sec!"

Edwin did so, wincing as his arms breached the bounds of the duvet nest to the frigid air beyond. Once Charles had his hands free he wasted no time diving into bed, burrowing into the pocket of warmth.

"Mate, it's fucking cold," he said, reclaiming his mug. "Freezing my bollocks off out there."

"Perhaps we should have prioritised buying that space heater, after all," Edwin mused.

"Oi. 'Nuff of that. That kettle's a bloody essential bit of kit."

Edwin sipped his tea. Scalding hot, just as he liked it. "Hmm. Agreed."

Charles squirmed around getting comfortable, taking care not to spill his tea. He almost succeeded. "Ow. So! What'd I miss?"

"Nothing whatsoever — you made it back just in time." Edwin settled in as well, against the headboard — though by headboard, he of course meant the bare magnolia wall. "I must say, I'm intrigued by this one. I wonder how Detective Columbo's going to get this villain dead to rights."

"Always fakes you out, don't he?" Charles grinned, finally finding his space — pressed up against Edwin, hip to shoulder. "Mm — pass us the biccies."

Edwin handed him the somewhat depleted packet of ginger snaps. "Do be careful of the crumbs — we've only one fitted sheet to our name."

One sheet, one duvet. Two pillows. No bed frame. It was a modest sleeping arrangement. Particularly for two grown men, squeezed onto a mattress that was only a double by the barest technicality. But on these cold winter nights, that closeness had its benefits. Several benefits, in fact.

As though reading his mind, Charles grinned. "What?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Never messed about on a bed of biscuit crumbs?"

Edwin groaned and, lightly, pressed his palm to Charles' face and pushed it away. "You're revolting," he said.

Charles just laughed. "What? It's just like sex on the beach, really." He bit down on a biscuit. Loudly. "Bit crunchier."

"You will never persuade me that sex on a beach is a good idea," said Edwin, with a shudder. "The sand..."

"Sex in the sea, then?"

"Best of luck with your urinary tract infection."

Charles’ laughter rolled pleasantly in Edwin's ears as he nestled in properly, head on Edwin's shoulder.

Edwin chuckled in turn, draping his arm around Charles, fingers sinking into his hair. He played absently with Charles' unruly curls, as Columbo talked circles around his latest hapless ne're-do-well.

It was a strange little life they'd carved out for themselves, here in this sparsely-furnished nest. They had Edwin's scholarship to thank, and the student housing fund he'd received alongside. Though Charles helped as best he could with his meagre earnings from his part-time job at the local gym, they barely scraped by. Charles might've also been able to apply for student loans, once upon a time. But he'd never managed to bounce back after the sharp decline of his grades in year eleven. And what else could anyone have expected? It had taken all of his considerable strength to get back on his feet after what happened to him. Every ounce of his tenacity to return to his life after the incident that had almost ended it.

Edwin would not soon forget those hideous, harrowing weeks. Counting days of silence, of filling the Rowland family's voicemail to no acknowledgement. Of pitying expressions from hospital staff as they turned him away, time after time. Stewing and seething in the fear and the worry. In the rage of being told that he had less of a right to visit his best friend than the man who'd covered his back in belt scars did. Edwin didn't sleep, he didn't eat, he worried himself away night by night, and the boys who did the damage? Oh, they were suspended. For less time than it took for Charles to return to form. Back to school with a slap on the wrist. Any notions Edwin might've still held about there being justice in the world had been quite thoroughly quashed by that ruling.

It was a miracle Charles even found the strength to attend school for his last two years — let alone the same school. The one where he had, to reiterate, nearly lost his life to hypothermia and internal injuries at the hands of his hooligan 'friends'. Edwin had scarcely believed his eyes when he'd spied Charles across assembly that Tuesday morning. A month with no word and suddenly there he was, beaten and battered and more beautiful than Edwin's heart could take.

His parents — or at least his mother — had wished to transfer him, of course. But Charles, in true Charles fashion, dug in his heels and refused to be moved. Edwin had cornered him that very morning, on the stairs after assembly. He must have been angry — because he shouted at Charles when all he truly wanted to do was collapse into his arms.

"I cannot believe you would stay here in this barbaric horror show after what those boys did to you," Edwin had snapped, eyes stinging with the threat of tears to fall. "That is so fucking stupid it's unbelievable!"

"Sorry," Charles had replied — not sounding sorry in the slightest. His stitched-up split lip curled with his weary smile. "No version of this where I don't stick this out with you, is there?"

And that, as far as Charles had been concerned, was the matter closed.

The simple fact was that Edwin had never had a choice in which school he would attend. St. Hilarion's was in the family tradition; his father, grandfather, great grandfather, all honoured alumni. And if Edwin's own incident a year earlier hadn't been enough to convince his father otherwise, then nothing else would. The only way Edwin was leaving that school before graduation was in a body bag. And Charles, the stubborn fool, could only be convinced to leave Edwin in the same manner.

And so for the last two years of hell they had tried, in their own ways, to keep their heads down. 'Tried' being the operative word. Charles could never leave well enough alone, and fights were amassed. But every time he showed up to their hideout in the attic with a black eye or bloody knuckles, it was always the same story. One where he saw someone else being bullied, and threw himself at the situation as a substitute punching bag. Sometimes, the person he was protecting was Edwin. More often than not, it was some boy he'd never exchanged two words with. Made no odds to him.

And no matter how it terrified Edwin, or how he admonished Charles, he could never truly take issue. To resent Charles for being protective would be to resent him for being tragically, quintessentially Charles. In the end there was nothing he could do but patch Charles together with his pilfered first aid kit, and plead with him to be more careful. Maybe, just maybe, it would sink into his thick skull one day.

While Charles spiralled, Edwin studied. And studied, and studied, and studied. During slow lessons, after hours in the library, in the dead of night under the covers — he preferred to catch his sleep in daytime naps, anyway. For obvious reasons, sleeping in the dorm around the other boys had lost its appeal. There were days where he was so exhausted he could do nothing in his lunchtime trysts with Charles but sleep. At times it seemed there was no safe place in the world besides that dusty attic, with Charles' thigh as his pillow.

It was worth it, the sleepless nights, the borderline mania of his studies. With his stellar grades at sixth form, Edwin secured a scholarship on the other side of the country — fully paid. Meaning freedom, at last, from the golden shackles of his father's money. He'd packed everything he could carry into a backpack and his grandfather's old leather travel case. And with the first money he'd ever had to his name and no one else's, he made his first purchase: two train tickets. One way.

It wasn't an entirely seamless escape, of course. When he'd walked to the Rowland house to collect Charles, he'd found him scrambling through the narrow window of his basement bedroom. Nothing on him but the clothes on his back, and a fresh bruise across his jaw. But escape they had — and Charles had slept the entire way to Edinburgh, head on Edwin's shoulder. Safe and sound, at last.

It had felt good to be able to rescue Charles, for a change. He'd been playing the hero for others long enough.

Edwin scratched lightly at Charles' scalp as the Columbo credits rolled. He smiled when Charles snuffled and nuzzled into the sensation in the manner of a contented old dog.

"What's on next?" asked Charles, drowsy.

"I believe there's an episode of QI on the next channel." Edwin enjoyed that programme — some of the humour was a bit crass for his tastes, but he almost always learned something interesting.

"Tenner says Alan comes last place."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Easy money. And I haven't got a tenner."

"Fiver?"

"No."

"One-er?"

Edwin laughed. "I shall wager you... a kiss."

Charles perked up. "I'll take that action!"

"I hope you never take up a gambling habit, Charles," said Edwin, fondly. "Why on Earth would you place bets for something you can have at any time, in abundance?"

"Yeah, but it's not just a kiss, is it? It's a victory kiss. I get to be all smug and that."

"Charming."

"Oh, I'm a charmer." Charles smiled up at him crookedly, eyes hooded. "All the fit lads love me."

Affection bubbled in Edwin's chest as he looked down upon him. It was a flagrant hollow boast — Edwin knew better than anyone how dire Charles' opinion of himself could be. A situation that had only worsened in recent years, as the beatings from home and school grew more frequent and harder to hide under shirts. The scar on his lip had never fully healed. Nor had the proud sweep of his nose recovered from the time it was broken and poorly reset. He was a war-torn thing, and a bit of a hodgepodge. Elegant frame under rugged wounds, topped off with subtly effete highlights of gold earring and smudged eyeliner. Eyes older than his years, and a newly gap-toothed grin that could still light up the room. He was a strange young man, a walking contradiction; and Edwin loved him dearly, fiercely, and oh-so-terribly.

Edwin leaned down, dropping a sweet kiss between Charles' eyes — just above his broken nose. "I should think so. You're very easy to love."

Charles blinked up at him, a flash of vulnerability in his dark eyes. Edwin gathered him close under his arm before he could do something silly like second guess his affection, or shy away.

"Now shush," said Edwin primly, cupping his warm tea to his chest. It was an awful mug, scrounged from a charity shop with a chip in the rim. It declared the holder a certified 'Tired Old Queen', and it was always Edwin's mug without question. "Mister Fry is about to tell us the theme of the week."

And for a little while, that was that. Edwin followed the programme, rapt, humming in interest at new information — and rolling his eyes at the obvious blunders of the panel. Charles did not speak for some time, still warm against Edwin's side. Sometimes, upon being paid a compliment, he needed to sit a while and let it absorb.

It was the ad break, and Edwin was considering braving the arctic chill of the unheated flat for another tea, when Charles spoke again.

"Edwin?"

"Hm?"

Charles wrapped the arm clutching his — now empty — chequered mug around Edwin's waist. "When the Beeb come and drag me away for not paying the telly licence, will you visit me in prison?"

It was so out-of-pocket that Edwin couldn't help but laugh. "Well. Technically, I will be the one going to prison," he said. "It is my name on the apartment lease."

"Would you want me to visit you in prison, then?"

Edwin flicked Charles' earring, playful. "Obviously, Charles."

He could feel Charles' grin against his shoulder. "Brills. You tell me the layout, and I'll bust you out."

"That is not what I agreed to."

"I'll chat to that new girl at the gym, Crystal? Bet she'd help with a prison break. Reckon she's got a wild side."

"Charles," he said, flatly. "I'll not have you imprisoned with me when your madcap scheme goes awry."

"Why not?" said Charles, giving Edwin a warm squeeze. "That's the whole point of doing it."

Edwin scoffed — but his heart was beating ten to the dozen. "Charles —"

"Nope. Sorry." Charles took Edwin's empty mug from his hand — and leaned up to plant a loud, obnoxious kiss on his cheek. "Looks like you're stuck with me. Prison's not getting you out of this relationship, mate."

He made as if to leave the duvet igloo — and immediately hissed at the cold. "Although this bloody apartment might — fucking hell. Going outside; I may be some time."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Oh, for goodness' sake." He inched over to the edge of the bed and gathered the duvet about both their shoulders like a cape, tucking his arm neatly around Charles' waist. "There. If we make haste, we can be back before the general ignorance round." He met Charles’ eyes, stoic. “No man left behind.”

Charles’ smile was a soft and doting thing; somehow it warmed Edwin deeper than any space heater ever could. He wrapped his arm around Edwin's shoulder. Their feet dangled side by side, toes flexed to avoid premature contact with the chilly floor. "Together on three, then?”

Edwin smiled back, and nodded. "One."

Charles bumped their heels together in companionship. "Two..."

Edwin returned the gesture, in commiseration for the unpleasantness to come. A cold and bitter expedition to the kettle lay ahead; but as in all things, they’d tough it out together.

"Three!"

~~

Thanks for reading, this one's very dear to my heart - would love to know what you think 💛 Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the lovely comments you guys have been leaving on my fics - I have SO many to catch up on but I promise I'm gonna reply to them! I love talking to you and really appreciate you talking to me 💛💛💛 Not sure right now whether there'll be a fic for tomorrow (canon divergence/case fic) or the day after (free day). I have nothing written, none of my ideas are really sticking, and I'm still feeling kind of ill. I might end up just posting some ink sketches instead! But whether there's fics tomorrow/Saturday or not, there will defo be a fic Sunday 💛 Thanks so much, my lovelies - I'll be seeing you soon 💛💛💛

[reidsworld]

Masterlist ☽｡⋆

Mars speaks… Here you can find everything you need to know, from a bit about me to all of my works! My requests are currently opened! I ask that you do not request anything to do with rape, incest, abuse, etc. (basically anything super dark) between the reader and love interest(s). No one is allowed to use my works in any way without my permission, if you would like to write something based on one of my works please ask first!

About me:

mars

she/her

nineteen

canadian

virgo

adhd (fanfic writing is my current hyper fixation)

loves f1, soccer, skiing and snowboarding, lana del rey

Fandoms I write for:

Criminal Minds (pref. aaron hotchner, spencer reid)

Marvel (pref. wolverine)

Formula One (pref. kimi raikkonen, max verstappen)

The Vampire Diaries Universe (pref. elijah mikaelson)

Note that I am willing to write for almost anyone from these fandoms, those people are just my preferences!

What I write:

one-shots

mini-series’

smau’s

if requested, i would be willing to write other forms of works such as head canons!

Masterlist (a-z)

Aaron Hotchner

Unveiled Secrets - Fluff The BAU team has a sneaking suspicion that their stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner, is in a relationship, but they don't know the extent of it.

Disobeyed Orders - Angst, Fluff Being married to your boss has its complications, especially when you have a habit of ignoring orders. Requested.

Elijah Mikaelson

In the Arms of Eternity - Angst After holding your dying body in his arms, Elijah realises what he has to do to protect you, even if it means breaking your heart in the process. Requested.

Hugh Jackman

Beekeeping Age - Fluff Who knew having a crush on your best friends dad would turn out so good? Requested.

Logan Howlett

A Different Kind of Training - Smut When sparring with Logan turns into something more.

Winter’s Constant - Hurt/Comfort, Fluff You have always dreaded winter, every year it’s a challenge just to make it through the day. Except this year, things are a bit different with Logan by your side. Requested.

Patience Wears Thin - Smut Logan’s flirty behaviour has you thinking he’s just being sarcastic. But when his attitude changes and his grumpiness intensifies, leading to him avoiding you, you confront him, only for him to finally snap. Requested.

The Time We Have - Angst, Fluff Logan struggles with the fear of dying and leaving Laura alone, but meeting you helps him find peace. Set in an AU where Logan does not die at the end of Logan (2017).

Beautiful Tragedy - Angst Set in late 1800s London high society, Logan Howlett falls for a woman who is off limits, resulting in what can only be described as a beautiful tragedy. Part 2.

Out of Control - Hurt/Comfort Logan helps you learn to control your powers. Requested.

Drabbles

Giving old man!Logan head - smut Requested.

Headcanons

Birthdays - Fluff

Mini-Series

Scars of Time For decades, Logan and you have been each other’s sanctuary in a world that never offers peace. From a fateful encounter in a dive bar to a life together at the X-Mansion, your bond has weathered countless trials. But as Logan’s once-impenetrable healing powers begin to fail and your own abilities start to drain you, the stakes grow perilously high. With your love on the line and survival in question, can you both endure the ultimate test of sacrifice and devotion? Or will the scars of time finally come to bite you in the ass? Requested. Ongoing.

Max Verstappen

Baby Fever - Fluff Max gets a case of baby fever after seeing you with his nephew. Requested.

Spencer Reid

Parties - Smut Spencer, Reader's boyfriend, gets jealous of the Readers family friend at a party.

[wordsarelife]

—LOVER: the 1k follower celebration

content: various requested x reader fics that will be posted in the week of july 1st!

warnings: some are overly angsty, fluffy, happy, funny etc (they will have their individual warnings

note: so here we finally are!!! i spent the past (i think) two months, working on these fics and i'm so happy that i'm finally able to share this 1k follower celebration with you!! again, thank you so much for following and reading my stories, it truly means the world that people are actually interested in the stupid shit i write.

you will find all the fics tagged under the hashtag #lizzys1kfollowercelebration and now without further ado, the schedule:

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ monday

✧ FOREVER WINTER, theo

↳ ❜all this time i didn't know, you were breakin' down. i'd fall to pieces on the floor, if you weren't around❛

✧ WE ARE NEVER EVER GETTING BACK TOGETHER, mattheo

↳ ❜you go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me, but we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together! like, ever❛

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tuesday

✧ HITS DIFFERENT, isaac

↳ ❛i heard your key turn in the door down the hallway is that your key in the door? is it okay? is it you?❛

✧ VAMPIRE, rafe

↳ ❜i tried to help you out, now i know that i can't❛

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ wednesday

✧ SO HIGH SCHOOL, theo

↳ ❜you know how to ball, i know aristotle❛

✧ TEENAGE DREAM, george

↳ ❜yeah, they all say that it gets better, it gets better, but what if i don't?❛

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ thursday

✧ YOU'RE NOT SORRY, mattheo

↳ ❜and you got your share of secrets and I'm tired of being last to know❛

✧ SHAKE IT OFF, quill

↳ ❜i stay out too late, got nothing in my brain❛

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ friday

✧ ANTI-HERO, draco

↳ ❜it's me, hi, i'm the problem, it's me (i'm the problem, it's me) at tea time, everybody agrees❛

✧ SUPERMAN, theo

↳ ❜i'm lovestruck and looking out the window, don't forget, don't forget where i'll be❛

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ saturday

✧ MISS AMERICANA AND THE HEARTBREAK PRINCE, mattheo

↳ ❜it's you and me, that's my whole world. they whisper in the hallway, 'she's a bad, bad girl'❛

✧ BIGGER THAN THE WHOLE SKY, theo

↳ ❜salt streams out my eyes and into my ears, every single thing i touch becomes sick with sadness❛

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sunday

✧ LONG STORY SHORT, theo

↳ ❜long story short, i survived❛

✧ THE MOMENT I KNEW, quill

↳ ❜"i'm sorry, i didn't make it" and i said, "i'm sorry too" and that was the moment i knew❛

---------------------------

tagging a few mutuals: @ahead-fullofdreams @obsessedwithceleste @mqstermindswift @ahqkas @amongemeraldclouds @blooberry-bagel @mitskiswift99

[daydaydayrk420]

So basically...

Could I please request a fluff smut with a male reader and Tony Stark where Tony wants to have sex with reader (for the first time) but when he asks reader about it reader feels conflicted and uncomfortable about it thanks to his trauma? To the point of breaking down?

Tony is sorry and comforts him, telling him they don't have to do anything. Reader calms down and tells him he would love to but he doesn't know...how. He was never loved and never loved anyone, never had sex, etc.

So Tony takes it as a challenge to make him as comfortable as possible, talk to him, comfort him, love him and stuff and they both make the most loving and mind blowing sex? Ofc reader's the top and Tony the bottom.

Backstory: Reader used to be a soldier on his home planet, but his people lost in the last one, the remaining got locked up, tortured and killed. He thankfully escaped and ended up on earth. Avengers found him (after causing a mass hysteria that there's a feral devil on the loose) and gave him a safe space under the condition he would become an Avenger. Through his time recovering he got close to Tony who was curious about his kind/race and story (also because he's a huge hot buffed guy).

Reader comes off as cold, stoic, almost insensitive, but it's just him not tolerating bullshit. He's also not naive or dumb.

Reade's not a monster ofc, he's just been through a lot. In reality he's a loyal, kind, loving and gentle gigant.

Tony also likes him because he laughs at his stupid jokes (they both gossip and hate on Steve), listens to him and they both understand each other because both know how it feels to be the black sheep and unlovable. They hit it so well together they started "dating".

Reader never was in love and could never be with someone, have sex or have a family, being stripped of such privileges because he was only a soldier, just a tool to kill and win battles, if you survive you survive, you die and you die. Sex was also used as a tool to only make children or as a way to punish or reward someone (not him). The saddest thing was that he thought, from the day he was born, that this was the way of living and he never questioned it. His time on earth ofc changed it, Tony changed it.

Thank you for the opportunity love~! ❤️

God dayum. You sure you don't want to start a blog too? XD

My first request!! I'll try my best!! And thank you for all the details I won't have to write XD

How do I do this

Tony stark X male reader

⚠️trauma, first time, soft sex, bottom Tony, top male reader, marking, creampie⚠️

🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨

______________________________________________________________

Screams.

That's all he hears when he sleeps.

Which is what he's hearing right now. He can't help but thrash around in the bed. Mumbling soft pleas for silence.

"Y/n" Tony mumbles as he rubs his eyes. He looks at the sleeping giant. Sleeping is a strong word.

Tony and Y/n have somehow become a couple. It started with Tony calling him Winter Soldier 2.0. Then Tony changed his mind about his cold and lifeless demeanor when he heard him laugh at a poorly made joke. Since then Tony has been making jokes left and right just so he could hear that laugh again. One day they were the only ones in the tower so Tony used it as an excuse to get to know him.

They actually share a lot in common. They both have trauma and absent fathers, and they both hate Steve.

They've gotten so close they practically became a couple but they never really specified it.

"Y/n" Tony calls out again to try and wake the giant. Y/N only grunts in response and twitches in his sleep. Tony leans over and kisses his forehead. Y/n sits up wide-eyed and looks around.

"Easy big guy. It's just me." Tony took his hand. Y/N lets out a sigh and lays down. He runs a hand over his face in frustration. Tony lays his head on the giant's chest and traces his faint scars. Y/n closes his eyes and rests his free hand on the smaller man's head.

"Your planet?" Tony asks even though he already knows an answer. Y/n just nods not wanting to talk about it. Y/n's home planet is probably dead by now. He doubts anyone is left.

Tony kisses his chest gently. Y/n tenses not used such care or touch in general. He only started sleeping in Tony's room two days ago. So this position is new to him. Why is he shirtless? He sleeps without his shirt in this weather. Which gives Tony more access of course.

Tony caresses the giant's chest and lulls him to sleep.

The next morning y/n wakes up to breakfast in bed. Tony is making sure the tray is secure and stable as y/n moves. "Morning sleepyhead." Y/n only response with a soft hum. He's still a bit disoriented.

"I made you some pancakes." Tony smiled and sat down next to him. "Did you or did you hire a chef?" Y/n jokes. Tony shrugs. They both know he can't cook.

The day goes on like any other. There's no missions to go through so the tower is pretty calm. Most of the people are either home or somewhere at the park. But Tony and y/n are in the tower. Watching TV. "Baby?" Tony's voice suddenly calls out and grabs Y/N's attention. He looks down at the smaller man and tilts his head.

Tony is looking at him with something in his eyes the giant doesn't understand.

"Can we have sex?" Tony asks bluntly. The giant is stunned. His eyes widen as he looks at the younger man with uncertainty. "Tony i-" "please?" Tony begged with puppy eyes. The giant shakes his head. "I don't know..."

Tony tilts his head. Trying to understand what's wrong and why he doesn't like the idea.

Y/n looks at Tony. "I was never in a relationship Tony. Everything we do is new to me. Including that." His confession made Tony's eyes widen. He never thought of that as a possibility. But considering y/n was raised as a soldier since day one was an understatement. Tony lets out a quiet "oh.." as he thinks of all the possibilities his unofficial lover would be comfortable with.

"I won't force you into anything. But I will make it my mission to make you as comfortable with it as possible." Tony said with determination. The giant smiles. He feels warm in his chest as he realizes how different his current life is. And how Tony makes it better.

Tony kept his word and every day he made the baby steps forward. He started with more physical touch. Holding hands whenever he could. Running his hand over the giant's shoulder, giving massages, high fives when he was playful. Which of course made y/n make use of his height and always put his hand high up so Tony had to jump up. He was getting more comfortable.

Then he started giving more kisses. Pecks on the cheek. Morning pecks on the lips when the giant wouldn't want to wake up. Pecks on the chest or anywhere Tony could reach when the gentle giant didn't want to bend down. Sometimes Tony would climb on a desk to be on eye level with y/n. The giant found that amusing. And adorable.

Then he started to show his body more. Y/n is used to sleeping shirtless and sometimes in just his boxers. But Tony? This is unusual for him. He starts off by wearing more revealing clothes. Like a thin tank top. Or a band crop top. Then he started sleeping without pants with only a large shirt and loose boxers. He made sure to cuddle with the giant so he could get used to their skin touching. Then he removed the shirt and started only sleeping in his boxers.

And now? He walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing and laid on the bed like nothing was unusual. Y/n on the other hand is staring. Not with hunger. But with confusion. He didn't realize he was staring but Tony knew. He was filled with butterflies as he thought that this could be the night.

"Did you forget to wash your laundry again?" Y/n asks with genuine curiosity and confusion. Tony can't help but laugh at his boyfriend's cluelessness. "No. I've been getting hot in bed recently with the summer heat so I decided to shed some clothes." Tony lied. Well not really. It is pretty hot but the actual truth as to why he's naked is that he wants his lover to get comfortable with the nudity.

"Oh." The giant looks ahead of himself as he thinks that it's a good idea. It is pretty hot tonight. He removes the sheets and stands up. Tony watches with curiosity. Y/n removes his boxers too. Tony shamelessly looks down. And he is very satisfied with the view. He knows his boyfriend is a giant. But he didn't imagine it being that big.

Tony feels his dick get hard against the mattress. He blushes and stays lying on his belly. He doesn't want y/n to be uncomfortable.

But he didn't realize that the giant had gotten used to their every nightcuddles he would notice how he was not already throwing his tiny arms around him as soon as he laid down.

"Tony?" Y/n asks confused. Tony snaps out of it and looks at the giant. He didn't realize he had laid down next to him. "Yeah?" His voice comes out shaky.

"Are you alright?" The giant runs his hand over the smaller man's back. He felt the sudden shiver his touch caused and raised an eyebrow. Tony buried his face in the pillow. He doesn't know why he's feeling like this. He's been with both men and women before obviously. But y/n's touch had a different effect on his body than anyone else. Y/n realizes what's happening. But he doesn't stop. No. His body is screaming for more. So his hand moves on its own. Lower. And lower.

Tony moans into the pillow which only fuels the giant's needs. The giant watches his hand move as he contemplates the situation. But he kept going. Until he reached the curve of Tony's ass. Tony whines as the hand stops. "Why'd you stop?" His voice is quiet and shaky as he lifts his head from the pillow. He looks at the gentle giant and pauses. He can see the hesitation. He can practically hear the cogwheels breaking.

"Hey." He sits up and takes Y/N's hands. He looks into his eyes and smiles softly. "We don't have to do it." He said softly as he caressed the giant's knuckles. The giant in return was staring at the smaller man's body. The way his dick was hard and yet he's still saying that it's okay to leave it. He looks Into the smaller man's eyes. "I want to..." He whispers. Tony's heart exploded.

"Are you sure?" He has to make sure. He'd be lying if he would be disappointed if he said no. But fuck does he need him. And he knows forcing it won't do anything. The giant nods. But Tony wants to hear it. He needs to hear it. "Use your words big guy." Tony whispered as he kneeled and leaned closer. Y/n'd eyes fall to his lips. "I need you." That's all Tony needs for his mind to go blank and his lips fall against the giants.

Y/n is fast to respond. His larger hand is cupping the smaller man's cheek as he deepens the kiss. Tony moans and wraps his arms around the bigger man's shoulders. The giant takes his time and slowly moves his hands down the smaller man's boy. He wants to memorize everything. Every inch of his skin.

"Tony..." Y/n moaned. Tony's knees buckled. He always imagined him moaning his name but he didn't think it would affect him that much.

All he knows is that he doesn't want it to end. Once the giant's hands reach the smaller man's thighs he slowly lowers him onto the bed.

They separate for air. Tony looks up with cloudy eyes and shivers once he sees the primal hunger staring dead at him. Even if his eyes are hungry, he can still see their gentle care.

Y/n kisses down to his chest and gently marks it. "Do you uh... Do you have any lu-" Before he can finish Tony is already pulling lube from under his pillow and handing it to him. The giant chuckles and takes it.

He wets his fingers. He reaches down and barely circles Tony's hole. Even if it's a featherlight touch it makes his stomach burst with butterflies. Y/n watches every reaction as he does what feels right. He carefully inserts the first digit of his middle finger.

Judging by Tony's whines he assumes he's doing it right. So he moves his finger around and pushes further in whenever the tight ring of muscle will allow him.

Tony whines and moves his hips against the giant finger. He may be going slow and easy but his larger fingers make it feel like he stuffed in two at once.

"Oh my fucking god." He groans and arches his back. Y/n stops and looks at the smaller man with worry. "Did I hurt you?" He starts to pull his finger out but Tony growls. "Don't you fucking stop." Y/N hesitates. He's never seen him like this. He doesn't like it. It feels like an order and that makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't pull his finger out but he doesn't move it either. Tony realizes what he said and forces himself to relax. "Please don't stop." This time his voice is more gentle and pleading.

Y/n looks through Tony's eyes. He relaxes and slowly moves his finger again. Tony lets out a really high-pitched moan. He moves his hips against the giant hand asking for more. So the giant slowly adds a second one.

Y/n keeps watching Tony making sure he's doing everything right and that he's comfortable. Tony is not here with his mind. He's too focused on the large fingers stretching him out. If this is how he feels from the fingers he doesn't want to know how pathetic he'll be once he gets the real deal.

"Please please please please" Tony whimpers for more. Y/n doesn't know what he's begging for so he only adds a third finger. Tony groans and arches his back. He knows he has to be stretched well for a man his size. But fuck was he getting impatient. He has to wait, for y/n's sake and comfort.

"Are you feeling good?" Y/n asks and gently moves his three fingers. Tony wants to laugh but all that comes out are moans. "SO good."

The giant nods and speeds up a bit. He also is getting impatient.

Tony basically crumbles in his hands as his fingers hit the right spot that makes him see stars. "Tony I need you" Y/n whines as he begs for permission to get on top. Tony whines too. "I need you too."

That's all it takes for Y/N to remove his fingers and tower over the smaller man. He pauses a bit to admire how Tony looks. Eyes half-lidded and face flush with pink.

Y/n suddenly realizes what's happening and is filled with hesitation again. Does Tony actually want this? Does he want it? Does Tony have a box of condoms somewhere? Do they even make his size?

"Y/n?" Tony's concerned voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Y/n looks at him. "Hm?" He whispered. Tony reached up to caress his cheek. "We don't have to if you're not ready." His voice is soft and sweet.

Y/N takes a deep shaky breath. They have already gone so far.

"Should we use a condom?" Y/n whispers. Tony relaxes and lets out a chuckle. "I don't think I have one your size big guy." The giant lets out a small chuckle at Tony's teasing.

He grabs the lube and squirts some into his hand. He makes sure to lube himself up as best as he can. Tony shivers as he realizes that's about to be inside him. He grabs a pillow and rests it under his hips.

Y/n adds a little bit more lube to the smaller man's hole and throws the bottle aside. He lines up and looks up into the smaller man's eyes. He waits for permission. Tony also looks up and nods.

The giant slowly slides the tip in. Shivers go through his whole body at the unfamiliar sensations. His mind goes blank as he keeps pushing in. A soft whimper from Tony snaps him out of his daze and makes him freeze in the spot. He looks up at the smaller man's face afraid he hurt him. The smaller man shifts a bit getting used to the larger size. He's been with men who got lucky with their sizes before but never like this. Which is obvious considering that the man is a literal giant from a different planet.

Tony whines and holds his abdomen. Y/n gives him time to adjust. In the meantime, he caresses and kisses the smaller man's body.

"I'm good." Tony breathes out. The giant nods and slowly pulls out and then slowly pushes back in. He repeats that multiple times until he finally bottoms out. They both let out loud moans. Y/n moans because of the new feeling. And Tony moans out because of the large bulge that has appeared under his hand.

"Oh my god, you feel so good, Tony." The giant moans as he rests his forehead on the smaller man Tony uses his free hand to run it through the larger man's hair. "You feel amazing Y/n."

They just hold each other like that until Tony commands for more.

The giant nods and slowly pulls out and then slowly pushes back in. He moves slowly. Pouring all his love and passion into his touches and kisses. Tony whines and begs for more but the giant never complies. It's his first time and he wants to memorize everything about it. Y/n angles his hips trying to find the right spot that makes Tony let out one of the sweetest sounds he's ever heard. You'd think that with a size like that, he'd be hitting it every time. You're not wrong but it does take a certain angle for the actual pleasure to spread through Tony's body.

So he finds the perfect angle and makes sure to hit it every time he can. Tony becomes a whimpering mess. His nails are clawing at the bigger man's back and his back arches right into Y/n's touch. The way his back is arched gives the giant better access to kiss and mark his body. Y/n never gave anyone a hickey. Only bruises. But it¨s basically the same thing. Right? So he does anything he can think of that would make a hickey. He bites harder than just a nibble but that only leaves a love bite. He licks it and that reminds him of how Tony gave him a hickey once. He remembers he sucked on the skin. so he does just that.

He sucks in a good chunk of Tony's pec and bites it too for a longer effect. Tony practically screams out in ecstasy.

"Oh my god, you're so deep. How are you so deep." Tony moans and keeps resting his hand right above the abdomen. Y/n can only grunt out in response as he holds him close. His body is tingling in multiple places. He doesn't know why but he doesn't want it to stop.

"oh fuck fuck fuck fuck wait-" Before Tony can call out in time he's covering his belly in white sticky streaks. Y/n only watches in amazement at how Tony's body can squirt and squirm in his arms. But he's nowhere close. Not that he can tell. He wants to continue but thinks he should give the poor man a break. So he slows his thrusts. Tony is blissed out of his mind but the moment the thrusts slow more than they already make him snap out of it.

"Don't stop." Tony calls out in panic. He doesn't want this night to end yet. The giant hasn't even cummed yet! Of course, he doesn't want to stop. "Please don't stop." He pleaded instead of ordering around. Y/n nods and starts to move again. Tony's body shakes as it's slowly being overstimulated.

But he only begs for more. And the giant gives him more. His chest is covered in large deeply colored hickeys.

"Yes yes yes yes." Tony chants with shaky breaths as he shakes with extreme and pleasurable overstimulation.

It takes everything in y/n to hold back the urge to rut into the smaller man. But he keeps fighting his urges because he wants this night to be the night when he takes care of Tony.

Tony's nails dig deep enough into the bigger man's back. Which causes the giant to groan out. He can feel the blood on his back but he doesn't care. He loves how everything feels. How he feels. How his Tony feels. His Tony. His. "Mine" Y/n growls out before he can think and marks the small spots of Tony's skin that haven't been marked yet.

The smaller man grips onto the giant's hair and cries out. His body is so sensitive it's overwhelming. "Holly fuck!"

Y/n starts to feel a tingling sensation in his abdomen. Is this it? Is he close? "Tony" He moans. "I think I'm close." He whines and buries his face in the smaller man's neck. Tony whimpered and wrapped his shaky and barely working legs around the bigger mans hips. "Me too."

Y/n manages to give a couple more deep thrusts before that tingling sensation in his abdomen changes into a warm feeling that spreads throughout his body as he spills himself into Tony. He moans loudly and drops his head. His forehead rests on Tony's chest who's also shivering from his climax. The overstimulation has caused to make Tony to squirm more than before which made his streeks of cum reach further and some even reached y/n's cheek. Which only gets him to chuckle and lift his head up to look at the art under him. He smiles to himself as he watches how Tony uncontrollably whimpered and shook.

Eventually Y/n finally pulled out and left to grab something to clean up with.

Tony's arms fall to his stomach. His eyes fall closed and a small smile forms on his face. He feels a bit bloated with how much y/n has cummed but oh god does he love it.

The gentle giant returns with a warm wet rug and crawls back into bed to clean the smaller man up. But he stops once he sees how happy Tony looks as he holds his belly. He admires him for a while. Tony's hair is a mess, his eyes are closed, he's smiling so sweetly, and his chest is covered in large hickeys. Y/n can also feel how his back is burning from the multiple scratches the smaller man left behind. Especially the deeper ones. He gently touches Tony's dick to clean him up which makes his body jolt. "You're so responsive." He chuckles. Tony mumbled. "I'm so overstimulated every little touch will make my body jump." He responds tiredly but there's no annoyance behind his words. Only satisfaction and bliss.

Once they're both clean Y/n lays down. But his back burns with immediate protest which makes him wince and flip onto his stomach. Tony turns his head and looks at the bigger man with worry. His eyes widen once he sees the scratched red marks he left behind. "Oh god, I'm so sorry." Y/n chuckles at his reaction and turns his head to the side to face him. "I like it." That made Tony relax. He wants to so desperately move closer and cuddle the larger man but his body wouldn't respond even if he tried.

"Cuddles in the morning then?" He teased. The giant chuckles in response but nods. "Happily."

Before they both fell asleep Y/n spoke up with a sleepy tone. "Will you be my boyfriend?" Tony lets out a sleepy chuckle and responds with also a sleepy tone. "Of course, I will numbnuts."

They both fell asleep with goofy smiles on their faces.

[gilverrwrites]

Hellooo, I hope ur doing well ;) Can I request Bruce Wayne/Batman for the headcanon meme ? I know this is a lot and I apologise in advance lol, but I’m genuinely so interested about your takes on Bruce 🫶🏼 Hi anon, I hope you don't mind but I'm posting this as a text post so I can add a read more to it. Thank you so much for the ask, I'm honored that you're curious my HCs. Again thank you, and have a super rest of your day! 💖💖💖

• what religion are they? how do they practice? Canonically, I believe he was raised catholic, and identifies as an atheist because if there was an all knowing God, why would he let Gotham exist as it is?

But I’ve always had trouble rationalising religion in comics. I’m also an atheist but if I’d met/knew Gods literally walked the Earth (Zeus for example) I would be having a crisis of faith. Pretty sure Superman once met the Christian God? Bruce clearly has a stronger sense of belief than I.  

So, practice wise; Growing up would be church on Sundays, grace before dinner. Nightly prayers. Once his parents had passed, while Bruce would be questioning his faith, I don’t think Alfred would have enforced such things if Bruce didn’t want to continue practicing.

• what holidays do they decorate for? For the longest time he didn’t decorate for any. Alfred decorated at least for Christmas every year, but Bruce stopped noticing once he became Batman.

It wasn’t until a young Dick mentioned he’d never been trick or treating that Bruce started to put the effort in. That year Dick had the best Robin Hood costume, Bruce dressed as Little John, and Alfred as Friar Tuck. Not only did Dick get to go trick or treating, but Bruce and Alfred decked out the front yard for any local kids too.

When thanksgiving rolled around, Alfred was delighted that Bruce seemed to care about it again, having gone out to buy new centre pieces. And that year was the first year since he was child that Bruce helped put up the Christmas decorations.

Every year he tried to one up the last, however, his presence on the day dwindles until Dick goes off to college and Bruce’s motivation to care about such frivolous things while Gotham needs him is gone. But this exact process repeats with every adopted child until there’s always somebody home, be they young and living with him or old and visiting.

• what clubs / sports were they involved in as a child / teenager When he dropped out of school, that also meant quitting any clubs and sports. The lack of team sports is probably a contributing factor to his inability to communicate well with others outside of strategy. However, prior to that he was a Cub Scout, as well as tennis and fencing (fuckin’ Rich kids).

Post homeschool (much like in the Gotham TV show) Alfred ensured Bruce was still doing outdoorsy activities; camping, hiking, learning survival skills. As well as Bruce insisting on multiple forms of combat training. He continued fencing.

• do they take any medications? No. That’s not to say he shouldn’t be on medication, he just doesn’t. Hard to speak to a professional when you can only tell them half of your life.

He does however take daily vitamins along with his protein, creatine etc. If he’s not taking supplements, Alfred is sneaking them into his food. He eats nothing but protein, gotta make sure he’s getting his nutrients somewhere.

• do they watch the olympics? do they prefer summer or winter Rarely has the time. But if and when he does sit down to watch I’d say his preferred watches are; tennis, fencing, boxing, and judo. Sports that mean something to him. For that reason he also prefers the summer games over winter.

• what are they like when they're sick? Nightmare. Alfred is a saint for putting up with it, honestly. That WFA comic where he’s trying desperately to get back to work whilest injured is 100% accurate to my imaginings. Even when he’s too sick to move, he’s still thinking up ways he can sneak out of bed, wondering if he should build a batlaptop for these sorts of occasions.

Crime is never sick; therefore Batman can’t be sick!

• what do they usually buy in a gift shop? It varies from place to place but typically:

Fridge magnet and/or some other small kitchen accessories for Alfred.

Stationary for Damian.

Preferably a cola drink, but if not a snack for Tim. He’s specifically looking for decorative packaging that can be saved. [See this Tim HC]

Pin badges for Babs.

Postcards for Dick.

An oversized hoodie for Cass. Black only.

An oversized hoodie for Steph. Tacky only.

Keying for Jason.

Puzzles or decorative decks of playing cards. (Duke is into tabletop card games, Bruce thinks they’re the same thing)

A coffee mug for himself.

• what color was their childhood bedroom? Blue, and it’s still blue but a lot of the furniture has changed. Can’t sleep in a kids bed forever.

Most of the new furniture is sleek, modern looking and black. He likes the gothic style, but this is where he often brings his dates/hook up, and the minimalist style suits his image better.

The old bed, desk, toy box etc haven’t been thrown out or anything, they’ve been used by most of his family as they’ve grown up and are currently in Damian’s room. Everyone who has used the desk (B included) has carved their their initials on the underside of it.

• what does a typical day off work look like for them? A day off? What’s that? Seriously, even if he’s not being Batman, he’s being Brucie, Mr Wayne, Matches, or Dad or even just working out.

On the rare, rare, rare occasions he’s not doing any of those things, the first thing he does is sleep in. He probably needs to sleep for 5 days straight, but he’ll only sleep until 10/11ish.

By now he’s missed breakfast (which is served from 8-9), so he’s latching onto the first person to pick up the phone and taking them out for brunch. By now he’s already itching to get back in the cave, and to thwart this he forces himself to stay in the city; go to a museum, walk in that park, visit a friend, go shopping for (another) new watch, anything but return home.

Will surprise Damian by picking him up from school. Damian, as he gets older externally complains and cringes more and more, but he loves it.

When they get home, he becomes a nuisance until dinner, offering help to everyone with anything to distract himself. It’s appreciated but nobody needs help with homework or housework.

After dinner is the home stretch, and the easiest part. He gathers as many people as he can in the family room for films or games, and by the time they’re done it’s bedtime.

He’s in the batcave at midnight.

• how many pillows do they sleep with? One. He has at least ten in the bed, every night she shifts all but his favourite to the floor, and every morning Alfred makes the bed and puts them all back and arranges them perfectly.

• what's their least favorite chore? He rarely does chores, but Alfred must have time off. The first time he took a week off since Bruce became Batman was the first time he realised the impracticality of having a CAVE! So much sweeping and dusting and everything smells damp, he has no idea how Alfred keeps it liveable because after 2 days Bruce was overwhelmed and ready to risk it all by moving everything upstairs.

• how often do they do their laundry? He doesn’t. If Alfred isn’t available, he’s been specifically instructed to take anything that needs cleaning to the dry cleaners. Not because he’s incapable of doing laundry, he’s not completely inept at doing normal things. He just thinks he can do it better. Which often results in the washer-dryer being ‘upgraded’ in ways that nobody ever needs, and Alfred hates it.

• what is their favorite wine / liquor? Prefers wine to spirits, specifically red. Or better yet, champagne.

When he does drink spirits he leans towards brandy, the same kind that his mother would drink.

• what is their favorite scent of candle? Citrusy, fresh scents. Something strong that pierced the musty smell of the Batcave or the damp of the city. Sage & citrus, lemon lime, maybe even mint cucumber.

• what's their guilty pleasure tv show? Again, he rarely watches TV. But I think at least once while on ordered bed rest he ‘accidentally’ watched every season of the Kardashian’s. He 'hated' every second.

He’s assigned all of his children a Kardashian and keeps up to date with every episode, just as a person who hates the show would do. He will never tell anyone else.

Tim knows. Bruce knows that Tim knows but they’ve never discussed it. Tim has never seen a single episode, but he’s seen memes, and will quote them in front of people to make Bruce sweat.

• have they ever done volunteer work? Bruce is a known philanthropist. The Wayne Foundation is a non-profit which primary cause is funding charities, hospitals, medical research, urban renewal, etc.

He puts a lot of money into The Wayne Hospital (or whatever its called dependant on the media). He also funds a lot of youth centres, and rehabilitation centres.

But as for actual hands-on charity work, no. It anything it would cause more harm than good.

Could you imagine being homeless, starving, at your lowest, and when you arrive there’s fucking media vans and photographers everywhere, cataloguing your worst? And then inside, the herald prince of the city that has screwed you over, billionaire Brucie Wayne is serving you ladles of dirt-cheap slop? You'd be mortified, pissed.

• do they listen to music or watch tv more often? Definitely music. TV is time consuming; music is easier to multi-task. I don't think he listens to much of anything other than classical and meditative music. Maybe some kind of classic rock workout playlist on Spotify that Babs occasionally hacks into and keeps adding back-to-back plays of Black Betty. Bruce gets so into his workouts that he doesn't notice until one day he realises he's done a 2-hour cardio session and Black Betty has been playing the entire time.

• do they watch the superbowl even if they aren't into football? Not into football and barely has the time. However, when it's football season, the men (and some women) in his social circles go crazy for it, so he keeps up with the matches through news reports and tries to watch the final, Batman missions permitting.

(Psst. I'm from the UK and know nothing about American football. I presume the Superbowl is preceded by a series of tournament matches like euro football (soccer) is?)

• do they collect anything? Children

Watches, and cars. Later in life, he's fixed on these things a lot more, because he's been collecting them for so long. But they started purely as a way to fit in with his high society peers. To make him appear more normal.

Imagine that scene in American Psycho where they're comparing busisness cards, but it's Gotham’s richest competing over who has the latest watch, the nicest vintage car etc. Now that he knows what he likes he's more focused in on those; he like vintage European watches and American cars.

I also love the idea that Dick once bought him an ugly novelty tie (completely earnestly) on like his second Christmas at the Manor, and that quickly became a tradition. Every year he gets a new tie, the most hideous the kids can find, and the following year, Bruce wears it during Christmas dinner.

• what hill are they willing to die on? Mint is the superior dessert flavour, milkshakes, ice cream, Oreos, coffee syrups. Dark chocolate and mint = peak.

[codename-adler]

28: Yanko Florescu (22) USC Trojans Backliner

(USC Trojans lineup of OCs)

Ah, big ginger man makes Mateo brain go brrrr!

*Yanko is supposed to have a little bit grown out buzzcut but I couldn't find a gif that satisfied my mental image so. That but cropped. He shaves it every month on the 28th. Call that sports superstitions.

With Jean, Viggo and Nikita, he is one of the tallest Trojans, standing at 6'4. With Nikita also, and Mari, and others, one of the most unproblematic teammate ever. He is so chill, but in a different way than others. Mari is chill because she does not care enough about anyone's bs outside of Exy; Nikita is chill because of his infinite patience and open mind. Yanko? Nothing fazes him, because he is so inside his own mind, minding his own business, that rarely anything else registers, and if something does show up on his radar, he does not have an overly sensitive personality, so he is able to put his emotions aside and deal with what's at hand. He might be on the AS in that area. You tell me. However, nobody on the team, and I mean nobody, has ever seen him lose his cool, either in anger or sadness. He has the occasional goofy-looking smile, or a small private thing. He's very good at straight-faced comebacks. If he's acting silly, his face rarely shows anything but a mischievous glint.

Yanko can appear scary, because he's very tall, very quiet. minimally expressive, and his goddamn fucking blue eyes are very... there. He might seem broody and gruff, but that's because his brain-to-mouth connection isn't always working, and he really enjoys being in his own bubble, so sometimes if you intrude on that time, it takes him a few seconds before he understands what is happening but his facial expression might take over before he has the chance to adapt. He's just a big mountain man, big to survive and adapt to harsh winters, not to harm! But his opponents would differ.

He does resemble Mari a lot, but they really don't have the same vibe, trust me. They are not on the same wavelength. Mari carefully curates how she experiences life so as not to get bullshit and waste energy on things and people that don't matter. Yanko is just that unbothered because he does not see the point. Physical embodiment of 'it is what it is' you know?

His two best friends are George A. and Viggo. Though those two are a piece of work because they always be in impossible situations Yanko has to get them out of, he likes them for their lightheartedness, and because they make him happy. And they know it. They don't tell him to smile more, or let loose. They love him as he is, love how reliable and steady he is, how helpful and generous he is. Yanko likes to simply be in their presence, no matter how loud they can be, no matter the trouble they attract.

Yanko was born in the US to Romanian parents, he studies Psychology at Dornsife and he goes Pro after college. He is a very, very smart and hard-working student/person.

He is the sunscreen dealer, because that man would have burned 5 years ago if he hadn't ransacked a Costco. He's got tubes and balms and jars everywhere: car, backpack, locker, dorm, duffel, emergency kit, etc.

Now the Mateo part.

Yanko has always been of the same opinion as Kevin Day: it's easier to remain heterosexual. Even lower than that: it's easier to remain single. He's not a high-maintenance guy by any means, but all his relationships' beginnings were always just that, beginnings. He has a deep, deep potential and will to invest himself wholly in another person's wellbeing, but girls usually break it off, gently or not, before it even gets there. He's peculiar, he gets it, but it begins to feel draining to have to start over every time. He doesn't want to hear another 'you're too quiet' or 'you never look like you enjoy my presence'. He doesn't want nor have to explain himself, and so if the date really can't see past that, then he's not going to dedicate energy and time to that. After high school, he completely stops looking for dates. Instead, he works on himself, and knowing himself. Plus, Psychology and Exy? Yeah, no, he'll pass on girls.

That's right, girls. Yanko has never dated men, ever, and never even thought about it. If he doesn't even think about dating, thinking of dating a guy is even less probable. It's just not... something he registers. So this... thing, with Mateo? First time for him too. And yeah, Mateo is a weird af choice for a gay awakening, because he might be pretty, but he's a whole-ass bastard. Eh, what can you do.

Because Yanko is very difficult to piss off, to get a reaction out of, he's kind of perfect to handle Mateo and his demons. The catch, though, is that Yanko also suddenly becomes very good at pushing Mateo's buttons. In a way, it helps Mateo to expulse all the shit that pollutes his brain, so he's calmer afterward. But it also gives Yanko special power over Mateo. And Yanko kind of likes that.

He is not in denial, okay? I swear. He's just so fucking oblivious. He doesn't put the finger on the actual thing until he literally kisses Mateo. And he has the galls to be so fucking smug about it. Like the cat that got the cream, Archimedes who figured out his eureka or whatever it is. Mateo is able to make him feel that way. Proud and powerful in ways he never felt before.

Yank takes it in stride like a fucking champ. It's like 'Welp, I'm dating Mateo now. He is my squishy and I like him so much. No, he sucks to you. Now back to our regular program: Exy. Yippee!' It's really, really not that deep. The romance part is more nerve-wracking than the gender part, if anything. He doesn't want to lose the essence of what he has developed with Mateo.

Of course it's much more complicated on Mateo's end, like I said, but Yanko knows, and feels, that he is not a waste of time and energy. That he actually motivates Yanko. He simply waits him out. He's there whenever Mateo needs, whenever he wants, and doesn't ask for anything in return, because what is the rush? It does make Mateo mad and jealous that Yanko is taking this so well, but it's also a steadying presence, that when the world is collapsing around you to take a new uncertain shape, Yanko is just there, same as he always was, ready to back you up, push you further, steady hand upon your back.

Anddd wrapping up on the cool & unproblematic king now!

[utterentropy]

Now, I have the dilemma of being both a scrawny Heart and a chubby Heart fan.

My taste in men is scrawny, short and meek, don't get me wrong; and my only taste for chubbier people is very specific, so naturally making my second-favourite character of all time be the latter option seems rather unlikely, but believe it or not I'm capable of liking a character even if they're not my type! Just because I love pathetic twinks doesn't mean rounder characters aren't cool and deserving of love too. :)

However, strangely I just love chubby Heart. I love it when depressed characters are overweight because it adds a special layer of realism; depression can cause overeating, depression can cause a lack of exercise, antidepressants can cause someone to gain weight, someone can become depressed because of insecurities about their weight, etc.

I think we need more characters that are chubby for reasons besides loving food, because there's a lot of complex reasoning behind it! Plus, representation for bigger people is wonderful. But while I could rant about this for hours, that's not what I'm here to talk about!

I made a compromise for my Heart with my love for both headcanons. However, it's not in a way that would be traditionally realistic for humans, it's written with fictional evolution in-mind!

Ids, Heart and Mind (and kind of Soul)'s species in my little canon-divergent AU I share with Grimm Grimm, are strange animals meant to survive in mild conditions, namely forests.

They are not meant to survive the cold; in-fact, bundling up with several layers of clothing won't keep them warm enough, like how a human would.

Instead, they have two solutions that work in coordination: By eating a lot, ids can release a significant amount of that energy as heat, whilst also putting on a lot of weight to help insulate their bodies.

Ids do not have fur (in-fact, they somehow have less than a human does), nor do they know how to start fires in the wild, with their IQ-of-a-five-year-old in their natural habitat. So, they get plumper and spent the coldest hours of the day in a den, snuggling up to one another to preserve and share as much warmth as possible, and rest through much of the colder temperatures, before going out to hunt and forage for plant-based food to help maintain the weight and heat they need.

Heart and Mind are the rare case of civilised ids; ids raised by a human. This means that they don't technically need to do this, as a nicely-heated home can do the trick, but they still have the instinct to get chubbier to help warm, especially with the outside temperatures posing a threat, and the imminent risk of hypothermia even in good conditions.

Heart is not at all bothered by having a heavier size during the colder months, even having a bit of fondness of it due to sating his body's needs. With this compromise, half the year Heart is scrawny, and half the year he's a decent bit chubby– for a reason I think is pretty cool! He's an animal going by animal instincts.

I apologise if this is bad somehow! I have no intentions to hurt anyone's feelings. I just simply like the idea of Heart and Mind getting bigger in the winter months because, well, they're animals, and it's their way of keeping warm. I've always been a massive zoology nerd, so I thought it'd be pretty cool. :)

That's all! I hope you enjoy my little ramble about my little evolutionary anomalies. :)

[inkblot22]

The Same As Always

So I can already hear it. If I'm so scared of Rook, why am I always writing about him? That's because fear makes me nut, and I'm horny on side (this is not my main blog lmao) Also I'm so sorry, I cannot remember who made this divider since I downloaded it a few years ago, so if it's yours please let me know and I will credit you! This is kind of a reimagining of events based on that very loose series I have floating around on my page (He Begs Not For Petulance) so I hope it comes across as well as those.

Who is this fic for? I tried to keep it very gender-neutral, so hopefully anyone who can handle it. I apologize, since Rook does use the masculine version of most pet names in this (cheri instead of cherie, etc) but it's less feminizing than him referring to the reader as "ma biche" or "ma coccinelle", so that's just how that goes. It is a shame, but I also stayed away from "mon nounours" because that is also a bit too gendered. Very cute, though.

Anyways, this fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. It's not as dark as my usual stuff, but that's not saying much. TW for noncon (touching and sa), knifeplay, blood, head injuries (accidental), captivity, and yandere. Also rusty, probably incorrect French and Rook Hunt, of course. I don't add translations because I feel like if the reader doesn't know all or any of what he's saying, it adds to the creep factor.

You don’t like it here. You think you don’t, at least. It’s hard to explain.

It’s winter, it has been for far too long. Maybe you’ve been here for a bit too long as well. It’s hard to keep track of time, since the sun seems to never rise wherever you are.

You can’t exactly remember how you got here. You remember the wagon. You’d needed quick travel through the mountains, but you also can’t remember where you were traveling. You remember everything going dark, waking up to see a blood-stained stone before you, feeling the warmth on your forehead and wondering where the wagon had gone. Your first thought was that you were now in a survival situation as it began to snow around you, the snowflakes dancing in the wind that found its way inside your loose clothing. You stood there for a moment, maybe, and then you started walking, and from there it all goes black. 

You can definitely remember the first time you saw him. You were lying in an unfamiliar bed, something snug around your forehead. A candle cast a warm, quiet light into the room, and it burned through your eyelids, your vision a murky orange-pink until you opened your eyes and came face to face with… him.

Flaxen hair, a soft smile as he reached forward to caress your cheek, and most of all, those intense jade eyes. You jumped and immediately felt woozy, but you were confused enough to pay that little mind.

The man shushed you, gently pulling you back into a relaxed position and cooing at you as though you were a small child, “Ah-ah, fear not, mon cheri, you are no longer in death’s grasp. Do you remember your name or how you’ve gotten here?”

You couldn’t answer him at first. His eyes narrowed, the rest of his face still a pleasant mask, and he eased you onto your back, your head against the pillow.

“Fret not, mon petit. How about I tell you my name, and then you can decide if you’d like to tell me yours?” His voice was quiet when he spoke to you, and you noticed that there was a large knife sheath snug on his thigh.

You were still bewildered. You couldn’t connect any of the dots that had led you to this moment, and it was making your heart beat a bit too fast for your liking. The stranger smiled wider and squeezed your trembling hand.

“Je m’appelle Rook Hunt, le chasseur d’amour. I found you wandering aimlessly in this forest, the life pouring from your head like a faucet. You passed out in my arms, and brought you here.”

You didn’t remember wandering around. You could remember getting up, but you didn’t remember wandering around. Your hand comes up to your forehead, the soft bandages rubbing against your fingertips. When you looked back at Rook, you tried to figure out what you should say. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth.

“I… I’m kinda thirsty.”

Rook smiled ever wider and stood, and you got the chance to look around a bit more. You seemed to be in a small log cabin, the bed in a sort of nook, away from the rest of the cabin. You could see Rook from where you were, his back facing you as he poured you a cup of water. The kitchen area was open, but small, a table with three chairs right next to it, and you could sort of see a pretty ornate looking rug, but as you were looking at it, Rook returned and helped you into a seated position.

He held the cup for you as you drank. When you finished, he placed the cup on the table and stroked your cheek, still smiling. His actions towards you were awfully familiar, as though you were old friends or something.

“Where am I?”

“A little cabin in the woods.” Rook didn’t remove his hand from your cheek. His gloved thumb was so gentle against your cheek. “Why don’t you get some rest? You lost quite a bit of blood, cheri.”

You did feel tired… and even though you were confused, it was almost as though a spell was cast on you, lulling you back to sleep.

You’re almost certain you don’t like it here. Although he never said anything to you about it, it became somewhat clear that you couldn’t leave once you felt well enough to move around again. At least you were moving, though.

It was also at this point that Rook began leaving the cabin often. It left you bored, not that his form of entertainment was a good one, and you started cooking to alleviate that boredom. You couldn’t really recall if you were good at it before, but you were decent enough to make basic stuff, so you did. For some reason, Rook had an icebox, not a refrigerator. You didn’t know what it was at first, and you felt like it was rude to open random cabinets in a strange man’s cabin, so you left it alone until he informed you that there were usually fresh vegetables inside.

You’d sit next to the potbelly stove and sip tea as you stared out the window at the snow. This winter was going on for far too long, and it always seemed to be dark here, but you didn’t know where “here” was.

Rook would stomp back in, snow caked along the feather in his hat and melting off the brim, and he’d cast you a smile before swishing into the basement. When he’d return, he’d guide you back to the bed and sit at the table himself, writing furiously… until recently.

Last night, he’d led you back to the bed after checking your wound and changing the bandage, but instead of taking a seat at the table and writing, he slipped into the bed beside you. You didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the precedent for the rest of your life.

“What are you doing-”

“Shh, shh. Relax, cheri. I will recite a poem for you.” He curled his arms around you, holding your aching head to his chest as he whispered.

“What?” You were fatigued, still recovering from your injury, but you struggled to break out of his hold anyway.

He shushed you again, his deceptively slim arms keeping you immobile, and then he began to speak, quiet and steady, “My darling is silent. Quiet as the night.”

“R-Rook…”

He continued speaking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, “Mon orilles sont pauvres faute de sa douce voix.

As I look at that sweet face,

Beautiful as a flower, as the moon, as the blood in our veins,

Je me sens seule dans ma peau.”

You… are not amazing at French. A small English to French dictionary was left on the table whenever Rook left, but reading made your head swim, pangs of pain so bad that you had to rest immediately. But, from what little you understood, the man who had saved you from a cold death outside seemed to have something worse planned for you, if you were in fact this “darling” he spoke of.

You definitely do not like it here. You’d made the mistake of pushing Rook’s increasing affections away every chance you got, resulting in him reading your reluctance to be around him as hostility. You’d gone to cut some vegetables and found that all the knives were replaced with children’s safety cutlery. While you could very well still cause damage with them, you couldn’t do anything life-threatening without a lot of effort and no fighting back. The serrated plastic edges were only good for cutting through the flesh of fruits and tender meats, and the rounded tips meant you couldn’t really pierce anything.You couldn’t even skin a fish that Rook came back with, he did it with his hunting knife after watching you struggle for an irritatingly long time.

And then there’s the cellar. You had taken a nap after trying to read and woken up, the sky dark as usual and a terrifying grinding, clunking noise coming up from the basement. You felt like you needed to hide, so you did. You crawled under the bed and waited, the basement door flying open and a few more candles getting lit echoing as the grinding noise- the sound of something big and heavy being dragged- moved further back towards the area of the cabin that you didn’t go in usually. There wasn’t much over there except for a wardrobe, and you didn’t like opening cabinets here. It stopped being about politeness a while ago, and had turned into the fear of finding something you didn’t like.

When you heard the front door open and close, felt the frigid rush of air that entered the cabin, you felt like you were frozen as well. You couldn’t move as you heard the sound of water being poured, and you worried for a while that you would start to feel the wooden floor beneath you grow cold and wet. Instead of wet floors, however, you saw Rook’s feet- you could only tell because of the freckle that peeps over his sock on his left leg and the fine blond hairs prickling from his skin- in your narrow window of vision from where you were cowering.

“Cheri… come out from under there.” 

You did, but you did so slowly. As soon as you were no longer under the bed, Rook pulled you to your feet and looked at your face. He’d never made such a serious expression before, not that you’d seen, and it made you feel a bit panicked.

“R-Rook, what was all that noise?”

His face smoothed and he let go of you, then he waved towards the dark corner of the cabin.

“I’ve run a bath. The water is warm, lapin, so you’d best get in before it cools.”

You did feel grimy, and since you were okay with standing and walking around for longer periods of time now, as compared to the first few weeks you were here, you jumped at the prospect of getting clean. You quickly undressed, knowing it was dark enough that Rook probably couldn’t see you, and climbed into the warm water. You couldn’t see if there was any soap, but as you were squinting into the darkness, kneeling in the tub as you leaned forward over the side, you felt something brush against your back. When you turned around, you shrieked like an owl and had a very intense internal dilemma.

Rook was seated in the tub behind you, or in front of you now, since you were facing him. He produced a bar of soap and began washing himself, dipping his head under the water so he could wash his hair as well. You couldn’t help but blankly stare at him, eyes wide as he acted so casual. This had been a problem for a while, actually, but never so severe as this. Rook was overly familiar with you, he touched you as though you had been married or were close friends, and apparently now he thought it was fine for you to share a bath. His eyes met yours in the dark corner, and he possibly smirked. You couldn’t quite see, but you could hear it in his voice.

“Ah, mon cher, did you need the soap? But you can’t see very well, can you? Come and let me wash your supple skin.”

A moment before he said that, you were debating if you should get out of the tub or something. You couldn’t tell if it’d be better to be ogled as you dressed or if staying under the water would give you a bit more modesty. After he said that, his arms reaching for you, you began to stand up. Although it was dark, you still saw his eyes flash, saw a slight movement in his wrist, and you were brought to your knees. It felt as though vines were wrapped around you, and you tilted forwards into your captor’s chest as your balance failed you in the dark water of the tub.

This man was a mage. You didn’t think you’d ever met one before, but you couldn’t remember. You wailed and begged for him to let you go as he began to gently wash you, but he simply shushed you and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You absolutely hate it here. As you chopped carrots for the stew you had decided to make, you wondered where you were from or where you were going, and hoped someone knew you had never shown up and was looking for you. You didn’t think that was the case, however.

“That does smell divine, trickster.” Rook said, walking up the stairs from the basement, “Et vous êtes terriblement mignonne, portant ce petit tablier adorable et préparant le dîner…”

“I can’t cut the meat well with this. Can I have an actual knife, please?”

Rook didn’t answer, leaning against the wall and watching as you chopped the carrots with some difficulty. He looked pleased, though whether it was with you or the situation remained to be known. When he finally pushed off of the wall, he wrapped one arm around your front, burying his face in your hair as his other hand slid down your thigh.

“Get off of me!” You tried to slash his arm with the knife, but it barely even scratched his skin, and the hand that was resting on your waist came up to crush your dominant hand so you’d drop the knife.

Panic spiked through your veins as he slipped his hand up your leg so he could slide it in the waistband of the pants you were wearing. His hand that was crushing yours lowered to hold your wrist against the counter.

You’d never tried this before, but when his lips pressed against your neck, you felt your breath hitch and you let out a desperate cry for help. 

Rook laughed in response and nipped your neck, his teeth pinching your skin between them. His hand in your waistband smoothed down your pelvis to gently massage your sex, and you screamed again, thrashing and flailing so he would let you go.

Despite him never quite showing this side of him to you before, Rook was something of a strategist. As far as you could tell, it hadn’t been that long since you’d gotten here, if your head injury was anything to measure time by.  

“Relax, ma crevette. You are still recovering, no? Allow this lowly hunter to take care of your body.”

Your head hurt and you felt dizzy as he stoked your arousal. A disconnect between your mind and body grew into a chasm and you began to bawl as a pressure built up in your core. Your head was spinning, it felt as though your brain was throbbing, and you shuddered and wept as Rook peppered kisses on your cheek. He had you pressed solidly against the counter, his body keeping you more or less still. His breath was hot on your skin, and you felt like you were in hell.

“Come, trickster. The soup can wait. Je dois t'avoir.”

“No!”

Rook paid you little heed as he dragged you backwards towards the bed, and while you were expecting him to just throw you onto it before he assaulted you, he gently swept you off of your feet and laid you down. That was where his mercy ended, however, if it could even be called mercy here. That knife that was pressed to his thigh, still warm from his skin and him doing whatever he did in the basement, was quickly unsheathed and trailed lightly up your sternum.

“Not struggling any longer, mon petit lapin? I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses.” His blade slid back down and he used a finger to help hook it under the hem of your shirt, cutting through the fabric as though it was nothing, “And I am sure you must be confused, but a little… exercise is good for your condition.”

You wanted to vomit, but Rook’s gloved hand cupped your chin. His knife felt cold against your now bare skin, and your breath hitched as you sucked in and held it, your eyes looking down at where Rook had his knife.

One of his leather-covered fingers tapped your cheek, and you looked back up at him. He smiled sweetly and sat up a bit, his blade still pressed flat against your stomach, right over your navel. He caught the fingertip of his glove in his teeth and yanked that glove off, tossing it to the side and passing the knife to his now bare hand. As he leaned forward to hover over you once more, his knife pressed under your chin and his gloved hand slipped into your pants, shifting lower than your crotch to prod at your poor ass. You closed your legs tighter in panic, and Rook tutted at you as though you were an unruly child.

“Come now, cheri, you should relax.” He whispered, leaning closer to press a kiss against your forehead, where you’d hit your head and how you’d gotten into this whole mess. “Plus vous êtes tendu, plus la douleur est forte…”

“D-don’t do this, don’t-” Your voice sounded so shaky, and you realized that you were trembling. Every time you made the slightest movement, you could feel the sharp edge of Rook’s hunting knife against your chin.

“Open your legs, Trickster. I’m not touching you for my benefit… although your faces of bewilderment and pleasure are quite sweet.” His finger circled the tight ring of muscle around your anus and you slowly relaxed.

“Wh-why are you d-doing…?”

Rook smiled sweetly and removed his finger from your anus slowly, instead dragging your pants down your legs and relaxing his hand with the knife against your neck. When your lower half was mostly bare above the knee, he pressed two fingers into your ass and slowly massaged you from the inside, tilting his head as his face fell.

“After I graduated from NRC, I did not think I’d see your darling little form again. It was a welcome surprise… but I don’t suppose you know what I’m talking about.” He mused, reaching over your head to grab something. He opened the little bottle with one hand, the slippery liquid cold on your asshole as he resumed his gentle fingering, “You don’t remember me in the least. Do you?”

You felt so woozy and scared, but it explained so much if he knew you… but that didn’t matter. He was still a stranger to you, and one who was currently preparing to do more terrible things to you.

“Heh… I did think so.” Rook quickly unbuckled his pants and tugged them down just enough to free himself. He pulled back away from you to seat your thighs on his own, his cock slowly inching into your poor hole. His knife slid away from your neck but remained in his grip as he slowly slid his hips forward, his opposite hand holding your ass.

Your vision was white for a moment, and when it returned it was blurry. Were you crying? You could hear loud, shuddery breathing, and it took a moment for you to figure out that it was coming from you. Rook sighed peacefully, as though this was a walk in the park for him. 

“Aw… I do not enjoy harming you, trickster.” Rook murmured, his hips slowly beginning their undulating motion. He shushed your pained sounds, “This is my love for you. You’ve only grown more beautiful these past few years.”

You winced and pushed against him, your feet shifting so you could try to kick him away, and his knife came back to rest against your collarbones. His hips rocked a little faster, every pump leaving a burning stretch that only felt like it doubled over onto itself.

“Did you know? How I felt for you, how I longed for your touch all those years ago? These three on my own… they have been l'écrasement de l'âme. I’ve had far too much time to- Putain, tu n'es pas du tout détendu…” Rook wheezed and grunted, dark and low.

You felt a pit in your lower belly, and you grabbed the wrist that had the knife, your watering eyes wide as you looked up at this man who apparently knew you.

“Please, petit, you have to… fuck- you must unclench, or this will not last much longer.”

His demand was probably one of the most ridiculous things you’d heard. You couldn’t relax. He had a knife to your throat, he was rearranging your guts, and he had chosen just now to inform you that he was aware of at least a portion of your past. You made this strange whining shriek noise, and Rook’s hand holding the knife slipped ever so slightly.

It was unclear as to whether or not he did that on purpose, especially since he removed the blade from your skin and lasciviously lapped at the small cut on your collarbone, his lips trailing up to your ear.

“Préparez-vous, car je vais déposer mon amour dans votre estomac en attente.”

The sentence itself was honestly quite jarring, but Rook groaned loudly into your ear and nearly folded you in half as he came inside of your ass. It felt hot and sickly, and the musky smell of Rook’s skin and sex permeated the room. Your head panged, woozy throbs that made your stomach churn. Rook dragged his body up and gently teased your sex with his gloved fingertips, his murky green eyes glued to yours. 

“Wh-”

“Did you truly think I would not give you the same bliss you have given me?” He mumbled, “You really don’t remember me, then.”

As he pulled out of you and stroked you to your own orgasm, he smiled sadly.

"Don't worry, trickster. You will remember in time."

[saltysaltdog]

With the future winter/ice updates looming in the distance I want to get this theory out sooner rather than later.

Narinder has a potential connection to snow/ice through his curses. While other curses are related to specific persons (the occultist, the necromancer, the beguiler, the horde,) the ice curses are the only ones related to a place.

The Tundra.

Onto the three curses

Divine Blizzard: the breath of a forgotten god... once stronger than them all.

Death's squall: a kiss from death, so cold and inviting.

Touch of Ithaqua: a call from below that began the winter year.

Now hear me out. I know the icegore exists, but I propose these curses all relate to Narinder.

Narinder is a forgotten god. You have to be told his name and his existence as one of the Bishops and as their brother had been erased. It took all his siblings to trap him because he had grown too powerful.

He describes his heart as cold and unbeating, so presumably we can describe his breath, etc, as such as well. Death has always been described as cold, and winters are a popular synonym for death due to leaves disappearing from trees and animals fleeing from the cold/ migrating for food.

As for the last curse, he is the One who Waits Below. The one Below. If Narinder does have ice powers he could have sent a blizzard to try and consume his siblings followers and force them to let him out.

But onto the elephant in the room. Ithaqua. Due to its spelling, you may think of the creature from cthulu mythos. With its burning eyes and lonesome life, giant and living amidst the pine trees. The death-walker. But enough drawing suggestive similarities. I don't think Ithaqua is a name.

It's a place.

If you've been into The Oddyssey lately, you've probably heard of the Island of Ithaca, the home of Odysseus. There was some debate with ye olde scholars on what Greek Island Homer's Ithaca actually was and where it was located, compared to irl, making it a nice little reference to how the bishops can't seem to find where the lamb's cult is, and neither can Rinor or Jalala.

Narinder's realm in between looks very tundra like, with the ground looking white and fluffy. In that sense, a sheep would be the perfect symbol of life in the cold north, wool being very necessary for winter clothing, insulation, etc. A key element in surviving "death" (winter). Thus, to destroy the way of life for Narinder's followers, they had to go after the sheep.

But why is it turning winter now?

Idk. Maybe removing the bishops and meant there was nobody to keep his old winter curse sealed anymore, maybe the seasons are returning, maybe we get santa. Who knows.

[sapphyreopal5]

A monarch butterfly flies around my body this morning. And, then, when I open my Tumblr app, I see the photos of monarch butterflies without even searching for it. (Ps. It is the first post I see in my Tumblr acc.)

Hello Anon, so I see you may have found my page due to tags like divine signs, synchronicities, etc. I don't know what is currently happening in your life but this is what I could find regarding the spiritual meanings of the monarch butterfly, which is said to be the king of butterflies. Universally, butterflies in many cultures are seen as messengers of those who have passed from this physical life. Note that all animal/insect/plant signs can have individual meanings to us all depending on our own experiences, culture, species and therefore appearances, etc. For example, some non migrating Monarch Butterfly populations travel to Florida due to the tropical milkweed found throughout southern Florida. Other Monarch populations may travel to coastal California to spend the winter there. Western Monarch populations don't travel in large groups. The Monarch Butterfly can travel as long as 200 miles a day and can fly at higher altitudes, due to them flying through the Rocky Mountains.

More notably so, some of the Monarch Butterfly populations are known for traveling to what's known as the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve in Mexico and tend to arrive there close to when the Day of the Dead/Día de los Muertos is celebrated throughout Mexico. What sets the Monarch Butterfly apart (especially the migratory populations) from other butterflies is the very long migration from throughout the United States and southern Canada to this very same place in Mexico; the monarch's dangerous and long migration to this sanctuary can in ways be a message to remain steadfast even when facing difficult circumstances in life. Many butterflies unfortunately do not survive this long trip.

On another note regarding the symbolism of the Monarch Butterfly in Central America, the Aztec cult of the feathered serpent deity Quetzalcoatl was said to require the sacrifice of hummingbirds and butterflies. I bring this up because interestingly enough, the temple of Quetzalcoatl in Teotihuacan, Mexico is about 2 and a half hours away from this butterfly reserve.

According to well+good, seeing a monarch butterfly fluttering around you as you described may point to major internal changes you will soon discover. Having one land on you can mean you are ready for changes to happen and are on the right path. The Monarch can represent a need to trust the journey, trust the process of this upcoming internal transformation (or what is already happening). Overall the Monarch butterfly is a sign of strength, endurance, spirituality, trust, transformation, evolution, and strengthening your beliefs.

Unfortunately, Monarch populations have seen a great decline since the 1990s due to pesticide use, elimination of milkweed vegetation, climate change and overall logging and construction development that result in the shrinking of Monarch overwintering sites. Los Angeles saw under 2,000 Monarchs in 2020 and for years before under 30,000, according to the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation. For some encouraging news in 2021 however, they counted over 100,000 Monarchs the highest they had seen in years. Still, in winter 2023-2024 there were 59% less East Migratory Monarchs in the Mexican butterfly reserve compared to the previous year.

Perhaps this encounter of yours with the Monarch Butterfly along with the first post on Tumblr you saw featuring a Monarch Butterfly could mean also that the deity Quetzalcoatl is trying to speak to you. If you are able to do so, also consider having a butterfly garden to help with the butterfly populations as well?

Thanks for the ask Anon. I always love hearing about signs like this happening back to back, as this is a divine sign of good things if you ask me ♥

[trinitywc]

Your great light story is so much fun to read! May I ask about some of your research into nuclear effects on the environment and living things? It all seems too detailed for you to have winged it!

Thank you! (Long answer)

So a lot of my research started off from what I already knew about Chernobyl, Fukushima, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Three Mile Island, the Manhattan Project, etc, for the specific chain of events or immediate after a nuclear incident. For general "what happens in a disaster", you can research any kind of disaster for the basics of survival and what needs must be fulfilled for life. I've linked some books I recommend below. I also recommend Slaughterhouse Five for an account of the Dresden bombing and how absurd and insane these things are.

I also used films like Threads, Grave of the Fireflies, Where the Wind Blows, for the more "human" or down to earth element and start researching from there; Cold War nuclear theories and nuclear war tends to be quite macro- and focus on the *big*- and not the day to day human (and then animal) aspect. I guess I wanted to focus on the lesser thought about things- I've always wondered "what happens to a hobby shop during a war" and while the answer is obvious, no one really thinks about the specifics; rubble is not rubble, it's a cafe and a mechanics and a dress shop, all tattered in the brick. What happens to the park when it is abandoned? The school? The pet shop? Walk around your neighbourhood.

A lot of stuff on the Internet is sensationalised- especially ""crazy nuclear wildlife"" and pictures of "crazy" flora and fauna are likely misleading- the wildlife bounces back quite well decades later; a little skew-iff, but no six legged deer monsters en mass, or Deathclaws. Disregard it.

Also remember, nuclear winter is just a theory. A lot of the side effects from radiation/nuclear war is just that! We don't know, because it never happened; however as volcanic clouds, ie Krakatoa, or debris from meteor strikes, ie the Dinosaur Extinction, have caused weather disturbances, long winters, etc, so its reasonable to assume the debris from nuclear firestorms would do similar. A lot of the nuclear war theories come from the Cold War idea of Mutually Assured Destruction and nuclear panic (or even todays) and is likely over the top. The Manhattan project feared setting the whole world on fire through chain reaction so. Have fun with it, take creative liberties. Radiation fucks with DNA- do you know how little natural/accidental mutation it takes to make people ginger? Why not have radiation change the future cats colours as well. Hell why not have it change the landscape entirely. It's your story. Pinefrost should likely be dead, but nature always finds a way.

I also played a shitton of Stalker. Thats neither here nor there.

[xo-zozo]

Do you have any headcanons about avery during thl when she was healing from the plane bombing? Like Nightmares, difficulty with limitations from her injuries while she's healing, processing all the info she learned and trauma from near death experiences, trouble sleeping because of the coma, etc. Because other than her waking up, we don't see much else even though she says it was the worst time in her life in brothers hawthorne.

this is such an interesting idea... i'd gladly do it for you <3

~ i feel like she would definitely get nightmares while she was in the coma and jameson would sit there with there while she got them (like holding her hand, kissing her on the forehead, touching her hair, etc. 🥹)

~ she would also have nightmares after the fact but i think we all knew that but i don't just mean right after i mean like in the grandest game era yk

~ i think i read a fic where it was her leg that got hurt but i'm not sure... anyway, i think that it would be hard for to do things for a little bit afterward and she would need more help with things that she used to be able to do and knowing her it would make her upset because she was so used to doing things herself (ofc jameson would be her number 1 cheerleader)

~ migraines all the time after she woke up from the coma

~ she would have trouble with everything that she learned but i feel like that would be expected considering how much she learned before the plane freaking blew up

~ the media would be really hard on her after she disappears for a while so that would be another really hard thing for her to deal with but i just KNOW my girl alisa was on that

~ most of the time she just wouldn't tell anyone how she felt because she thought that she was being dramatic about how much pain she was in

~ for a while her hands were really shaky so that would also make it hard for her to do stuff

~ she would also get sick really easily because she was so weak and so there was just a period in the winter/fall where she kept getting sick

sorry if i felt like i was romanticizing this with the averyjameson... i just can't survive one post without mentioning them ig

-zoey ☆

[ramshacklefey]

Do any actual historians or sociologists still think that women magically become housebound and oppressed when a society picks up grain-based agriculture, or is that just one of those things they teach us in school?

Because first of all, in a small subsistence farming community, everyone works the fields during planting and harvest seasons. There's not really any other option.

And secondly, in a non-industrial society, there is so much fucking work to do to keep everyone alive, even if we only look at food. Grain farming is a solid way to get a staple food, but you need a lot more than that. Once grains are harvested they need to be threshed and stored. You need vegetable gardens, and then you need to preserve the vegetables so you'll still have food outside the growing season. That means pickling, drying, packing in oil, making jams and preserves, etc. There may also be orchards or bushes to tend. Herbs (because everyone has always wanted their food to have fucking flavor). There are animals to care for: feeding, milking, and collecting eggs. Butchering and then preserving meat. Someone in a household has to also be aware of and tracking how much of everything you have. Between planting and harvest, crops need to be tended: weeded, watered, protected from animals or thieves.

And if we look beyond just food production? Clothes and tools need to be made, which is a full-time occupation by itself: sheep or goats have to be sheared, fibers processed and spun, cloth woven, and clothes stitched. Raw materials need to be gathered and prepared for use. If something breaks, someone has to repair or patch or make a new one. Pottery and baskets need to be made, as do string, rope, and fishing nets.

Wood or dung for cooking has to be gathered, and if you live somewhere with cold winters, a LOT of wood needs to be set by. Water needs to be fetched from wherever your community gets it. Children need to be looked after and educated. The elderly and infirm need care.

All of these tasks require specialized knowledge and skills. People are by and large not idiots, but there's a limit to how many skills a single person can acquire well enough to perform them on the level needed for survival.

And this isn't even getting into community leadership, arbitrating conflicts, organizing group labor, and the host of related social wrangling that has to happen to keep a group of people functional.

Throughout history and around the world, different cultures and communities have organized who takes on which of these tasks differently. Yeah, there are some trends and patterns about gender roles that are interesting. But it would be foolishness to assume just because work in a particular group is segregated by gender roles, that women were also oppressed and devalued. That speaks more to our own views of the value of certain kinds of labor more than anything else.

I guess my point here is that we don't know how or why so many societies developed some form of gender-related stratification. And projecting our own particular form of patriarchal society backwards in time or onto different societies is an unhelpful form of revisionism.