#i mean the only thing i might not be able to get my hands on is doc martens as shoes but eh

[jiarkives]

Azriel meets his mate who is a no nonsense female and isn’t dealing with the IC busy body bullshit. And azriel loves it cause he wants to be able to have something that is just his

He loves his brothers but they don’t know how to butt out of things. But his mate puts her foot down and lays down the law.

I need someone to stand up for him and take care of him.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — azriel’s mate does not take shit from anyone, not even the high lord.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — azriel (a court of thorns and roses)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff ; written with fem!reader in mind

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — i loved the idea but i fear i didn’t write my thoughts well enough so i might rewrite this completely and i changed the plot a bit so yeah !! thank you for requesting !! 🤍

~

“Love? Where’d you go?” Your voice was soft and so was your touch as his eyes focused back on you. It was early in the morning and you were both still in bed, opting to spend your day lounging around to let him rest after his week-long mission with the Night Court’s general in Windhaven.

“It’s Rhys.” He sighed and you knew immediately what he wanted, your eyebrows furrowing as you sucked in a breath. “He needs my help with something regarding Autumn.”

“But you just got home last night,” you said. “Have you talked to him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did he listen?”

“Well—”

That was all you needed to pull away from him and get off the bed, going straight into the bathroom.

“Wait, Dove.” He quickly followed after you, gently grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him. “It’s alright. It’s just a quick in and out. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you can handle it, but just because you can doesn’t mean you have to, especially not this soon,” you said firmly, giving him no room for arguments.

And that was how you found yourself barging into the High Lord’s study after knocking briefly with Azriel trailing after you quietly, causing both him and the High Lady to look up at you with confusion written all over their faces.

“Good morning, High Lord, High Lady,” you greeted politely, looking at them as you addressed them. “I heard about you wanting to send Azriel to deal with the Autumn Court, but if you aren’t aware, he just got home last night.”

“We are well aware.”

Azriel sucked in a breath at Rhysand’s response, his eyes widening as he shook his head at his brother as he attempted to get you to back off with a gentle touch of his hand and his shadows.

“Then why are you sending him to another mission so soon?” You crossed your arms, looking at Rhysand with an eyebrow raised. The corner of Feyre’s lips twitched into a smirk as she witnessed the scene before her.

“Well—”

However, you did not give him a chance to respond as you cut him off, “Well, you better find someone else to do it for him because he will be resting at home with no interruptions.”

“You do remember that I am your High Lord, right?”

At this point, Azriel had given up completely and let you take the reins, while Feyre watched in amusement as you grilled his mate on his seat.

“Alright then, High Lord, find someone else to deal with your shit in Autumn and let my mate rest,” you said, your tone firm and stern as you practically glared at him, no room for any arguments.

Rhysand could only gape as his widened eyes flitted over to Azriel, then to you before quickly clearing his throat as he composed himself, “Alright.” He relented. “Azriel may take the whole week off and rest with you. Then, I get the Night Court’s Shadowsinger back.”

“Good,” was the only thing you said before giving Feyre a polite nod, staring at Rhysand for a moment longer, and finally leaving the room, leaving the two of them alone with a smirking Azriel who looked proud (and aroused).

Azriel was not even surprised when his shadows left him and followed his mate out of Rhysand’s study.

“Sorry, brother.” He shrugged. “What the missus says goes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rhysand nodded with a grin, waving him off. “You go home and rest, brother. I’ll see you in a week.”

Azriel grinned and bowed slightly in goodbye before moving to leave the room.

“Wait,” Feyre spoke and Azriel immediately stopped and turned to face his High Lady. “Please tell your mate I’d love to introduce her to Nesta. I have a feeling they’d get along well.”

“I will.” Azriel nodded.

“Leave, brother, the scent of your arousal is starting to flood the room.”

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

hello! sorry to bother you but i am currently working on character designs for my next d&d campaign. i am creating a winged elf inspired by avariels, and he will have some form of physical disability which causes them to be unable to fly. however, i am not very educated about physical disabilities, so do you know any which might affect limbs such as wings and any ways i could portray life with them and accommodations for them in a respectful way? any tips are appreciated. thank you :)))

Wing disabilities are a bit harder to research than regular human limb disabilities, but you might be amused to learn that the very first thing i found upon a quick search for bird wing deformities was something called "angel wing", found in many different bird species. I've linked the article I found. It develops over time and can be corrected, but obviously when it happens in wild birds they have no means to fix it on their own and it becomes permanent.

Angel wing is a deformation of the wrist area, making it droop and then turn outwards. Once it's permanent, the crooked shape of the wing makes flight impossible. If a winged humanoid had this problem, they would need to worry about things like how far the crooked wing sticks out, maybe bracing it to alleviate chronic pain. I'm sure something like that would cause pain, even if it wasn't mentioned in the article. It may be helpful to clip the feathers on that part of the wing, so they're not in the way. Finding a comfortable sleep position may also be a bit tricky.

Other possible wing disabilities which I have not researched at all but sound like plausible congenital issues for people with wings:

- underdeveloped wings. They never get big enough for flight, maybe the feathers never grow in properly, possibly they're also shaped wrong for flight. Could come with chronic pain, weak muscles/atrophy, etc.

- missing wing. Somehow just didn't develop a wing, or developed a nub where the wing should be. Could also be missing just the "hand" part of the wing.

- general feather growth problems. Weak feathers, feathers that come in short, chronic molting that causes a lot of unhelpful bald patches, etc.

- chronic joint pain. Wings appear to be normal, but the joints hurt a lot and movement is difficult.

You can also go the route of disability by injury, having a wing broken or amputated or otherwise harmed in a way that is difficult or impossible to recover from.

Overall, the accommodations needed could include pain relief, a brace to keep the wing in a comfortable folded position, feather clipping, massages, etc. Mobitiy aids to let this character fly without the use of their wings is easy to handle in fantasy because you could give him an enchanted flying device of some sort. Magical prosthetic wing might work, but that depends on the disability you're working with and also wing prosthetics are pretty tricky. It would not be as functional as a real wing. If the wings are fully grown and intact, but the problem is something like joint pain, then a flight brace to steady the wings could be useful. They'd only be able to fly for short bursts though, probably. But it would be akin to giving someone leg braces so they can walk, while also having access to crutches or a wheelchair. You can work with your dm on figuring out what's allowed in the campaign setting.

As for being respectful in how you portray the character, I think the most important thing is to let them be a full person. The disability is obviously a major part of their life, but they ought to have more personality than that. Hobbies, interests, attitude.

They're also allowed to be sad about the disability, but this should not be their main defining trait. I think it is pretty normal to be sad that you have a physical difference preventing you from doing something other people can easily do. The problem in fictional characters who are sad about their disabilities is that it often becomes Their Entire Thing and then the character arc is either "so I became evil about it" or "and then they died" or "but there was a magical perfect fix!" all of which obviously don't respect the reality of being disabled. But making them totally happy go lucky about it also doesn't work. So you just need the middle area there, as that's the most realistic one. How does it feel to have a permanent disability? Well, it ends up feeling pretty normal when you're used to it. Sometimes it sucks a lot. Sometimes you hardly pay attention to it. Focus on making your character emotionally varied and give them an interesting personality that makes their interactions with other characters more fun.

Roleplay games are great for that, because you'll have to mesh with the group and really flesh out your character relationships as you go.

Anyway I hope that was all helpful! No illustrations to show, because I'm sleepy today. But good luck with your character! And maybe go check out @cripplecharacters for extra advice on generalized disability rep if you haven't already!

[robbinghisdick]

It's as they're wrapping up yet another potential world ending threat when Hal's voice cracks across Bruce's comm-link.

"Hey, heard everyone's still alive."

Bruce is more relieved to hear his voice than he'd ever be able to let on. "We could've used your help." It comes off harsher than he means to.

"Missed you too, Spooky." Hal sounds tired. "Any chance you can come meet me in the Watch Tower?"

It has been a solid nine months since they had last seen each other. Their ambiguous relationship meant they had sex before Hal left and Bruce pretended that he wasn't bothered by the radio silence. It was better to keep things more professional, less involved, in any case.

Bruce glanced around at the barely contained destruction around him. They might've actually come away from this incident with no casualties. Superman and Flash have doubtlessly already scoured the affected area for anyone caught in the crossfire.

"I'll come up in a few." He didn't bother asking why Hal wasn't coming down to talk to him. If he could, he would have.

"A few what?" Hal asks in exasperation. "Minutes? Hours?"

"Maybe more."

"Oh my god," Hal hisses, "you are insufferable."

The slightest of smiles twitches on Bruce's lips. "I'll be up as soon as I'm sure I'm not needed down here."

///

Hal looked just about as tired as he sounded over the comm. It was clear he hadn't showered in a few days, hair disheveled and greasy, tired bags under his eyes. While there weren't any apparent injuries on his body...

"You had a baby."

Babies, especially newborns, grew up fast. This baby looked only weeks old at most. If Hal hadn't joined the fight, Bruce estimated the baby was only days old, and that Hal was far from recovered.

Hal snorts. "Great deduction skills there, detective." He swallows hard. "Can you solve the rest of the mystery?"

For a moment, Bruce doesn't say anything. He stares at the sleeping baby, at its whispy locks of dark hair. He glances back up to Hal's eyes, notes the guarded look on the other man's face given away by his tense shoulders.

It doesn't take a genius to put together the fact that Hal wasn't pregnant when they last slept together nine months ago.

Bruce's eyes fall back down to the baby, chest constricting as he finds himself moving forward towards Hal. He wordlessly reaches out, and Hal responds in turn after only a moments worth of hesitation to hand over the baby.

Cradling the baby in one arm, Bruce pulls off his cowl with the other. Bruce suddenly finds himself needing to sit and finds himself sinking into the nearest available chair.

"For what it's worth, I tried to get back to Earth before he was born."

Bruce barely hears Hal, making a small hum of acknowledgement. His hand reaches to touch his son's face before freezing. He's quick to bite off his glove and drop it off to the side. The baby barely stirs as Bruce rubs his finger against his cheek. The tiniest eye peeks open, not enough to really see his eyes before it closes again and he grunts softly.

When Bruce is finally able to tear his gaze away, Hal is looking at him nervously.

Suddenly there is issues to be had with their ambiguous relationship... but Bruce doesn't really feel like getting into all of that at the moment.

"Have you..." His voice comes out hoarse, prompting him to clear his throat "Does he have a name yet?"

Hal relaxes a little. "I've just been calling him "little man" the past couple of days. Been thinking of some names, but I really thought I'd have time to talk to you first."

The thought that Hal had an entire pregnancy on a foreign planet was enough to unnerve Bruce. Hal could've died, the baby could've died, and Bruce might not have ever found out.

"Are you mad?" Hal asks after a beat of silence.

Anger was far from Bruce's mind. "Did you purposely keep your pregnancy from me?"

"It pains me that I couldn't use the pregnancy against you and you wouldn't have been able to fight back," Hal laments with a sigh, an attempt to lighten the tension. "But no. I couldn't get back home, it was out of my hands." He studies Bruce for a moment, a serious look on his face. "You're not upset at another kid being sprung on you?"

Bruce had met Damian not too long ago, all things considered. He had wanted him, back when he found out Talia was pregnant, before she lied about a miscarriage and left him. Ten years he was left out of his child's life.

"No," Bruce says, looking back down at the infant, "this is the first one I've been able to hold."

He's carried his Robins before. When Dick was still so young and tired, when Jason was hurt and could've walked it off, but didn't pass off a chance to be carried, Tim in a rush to get him somewhere safe when he got injured, and Damian as huffed and puffed about being fine, but didn't fight Bruce too hard on it. He's held Cass hard enough to hurt and she held him back just as tightly.

This was different. He never got to hold his own baby.

Bruce feels his throat constricting. He swallows hard and takes a deep breath. "What names did you have in mind?"

"Was considering maybe Thomas after your father, Tommy for short."

Bruce briefly considers it, but is very quick to decide no. "Maybe as a middle name. What about your father?"

Hal immediately shakes his head. "No. He's too young to be a Martin."

It's not like Bruce had never thought of names before, names he would've potentially given Damian... but that was for a different time.

They lapse into silence.

"Are you okay?" Bruce finally asks, taking another good look at Hal. He wasn't sure where they were going to go from here.

"Just need some rest, really." Hal rubs at his eyes. "It's been non-stop for weeks now--"

"Hal!"

In a blink, Barry is there, hand on Hal's shoulder. "Where you've been, man?"

"Oh, you know, space," Hal smiles and brightens up a bit.

"Very descriptive," Barry said with a huff. "You look like shit. You alright?"

Hal waved him off. "Yeah yeah, I'm fine." He gestures over at Bruce. "What should we name the baby boy?"

Barry glances over. "Uuhh, Finneas?" He then does a double take. "Wait, what the hell?" He immediately drops into a crouch in front of Bruce, a grin on his face as he coos at the baby. "Hey there little guy!"

Barry holds out his hands and Bruce reluctantly hands the baby over.

"He's way too cute to be your baby," Barry teases Hal before booping the baby's nose. "Am I the god father?"

Hal spares a glance at Bruce before saying, "Of course!"

Bruce didn't have any complaints anyways.

"I like the name Finneas too, Finn for short." This time Hal's look towards Bruce was seeking actual approval.

"No objections here," Bruce finally decides on.

He notices the way Barry's eyes dart between them, realization suddenly dawning on his face. "Hold up! Hal, you and Bats are a thing?"

"No!"

That stung a little.

"Well, I mean," Hal runs a hand through his hair, pointedly not looking at Bruce as he seems to reconsider. "Kinda. I don't know. Either way, yes, he's the other parent."

Barry hums thoughtfully, looking down at the baby. "So... who's last name is little Finn here gonna take?"

Hal and Bruce stare at each other.

"I carried him for nine months."

"Finneas Wayne sounds better."

(Art of Finneas!)

[callingbridgerton]

I am in the minority, I know, but I wasn't all that bothered by Colin's entrapment comment.

Beyond the fact that Colin is a human being who is allowed to make mistakes, be harsh, be "occasionally excitable," he is also experiencing a type of betrayal I honestly cannot even imagine.

With everything we learned about him, how highly he regards intimacy, how much emphasis he put on knowing each other completely at their engagement dinner... can you imagine how he feels looking back on their first time? From his point of view, doing that with Penelope changed everything for him. "Nothing compares to this." Nothing!!

Taking that into account, remember how Penelope responded when Colin asked why she wanted to be married?

"So that I may have my freedom."

This, of course, is understandable to Colin before LW. I don't think he'd find it much a stretch to imagine that that is what she was looking for but got lucky that she found love with him instead.

Post-LW reveal, is it really all that shocking that Colin might rethink things? Reconsider his understanding of their friendship, of her plan?

To entrap means to trick or deceive.

As much as we all understand why Pen was struggling to tell him - she did deceive him.

She accepted a marriage proposal without telling him (which again, I understand, I probably would have too.) And yes, she planned to tell him. But she was also willing to give up LW and never tell him. She was willing to have Colin never know the whole of her.

Colin wants to know all of her. He thought he did. But she was harboring the secret of all secrets. And if I were Colin, I cannot say I wouldn't feel the same. Entrapped. That the thought wouldn't cross my mind.

If Penelope can be LW, if she can write what she has written, if she can lie the way she has lied, what else can she lie about? Certainly she could lie about her intentions, certainly she could lie and say she loved him.

That is why he so needed to hear and believe her say she loved him. Yes, she responds that way after the comment. I think he hears her, but his mind is still spinning, he is still fuming.

In the alleyway he is finally able to hear her "COLIN, I LOVE YOU." and is overcome.

This is why he is so willing at their wedding. He now can make at least a little sense of it. Penelope loves him. He loves Penelope. Only question remaining is whether he loves LW. He says it himself, he attempts to separate them. He is marrying Penelope, love of his life. You see him during their first dance, touch his hand to her face, try to make sense of his wife. When LW gets brought up at the wedding breakfast, he is reminded how the two intertwine. And Penelope doubles down. Colin still cannot reconcile the two. So he sleeps on the couch.

And no, Colin Bridgerton, demisexual, finally aware of what it feels like to connect and be intimate with someone when there are no barriers and (what he thought was) full trust, cannot give his wife a wedding night. He cannot touch her. Not like that. Not now that he knows. Would you want him to?

Should he have said it, no. But if allowing himself to speak aloud his greatest fear is his worst crime then I am happy to say that Colin Bridgerton is still the most sure and sound of his siblings. I am certain we have all made graver mistakes...

[666writingcafe]

Uh-Oh

Simeon

I originally wasn't even supposed to come to the Devildom. That responsibility got bestowed on one of the remaining seraphim, but they flat out told Michael that they didn't want to spend any time with demons and that this invitation of Lord Diavolo's was a ploy for him to seize control over the Celestial Realm. It wasn't until all the other seraphim rejected the idea of going that I was offered the job, and even then Michael wasn't too keen on sending me down here. For one, I'd have to take Luke with me so that he wasn't left unattended. The main thing, however, is that he's afraid that seeing the brothers will prompt me to misbehave, and I'm already on thin ice as it is due to my actions during the war. Of course, I assured him that everything would be fine and that I'd conduct myself properly during my stay in the Devildom.

I'm beginning to regret making that promise. But not because of the brothers.

No, it's that damn attendant of theirs, Zephyr.

It's possible that they're using both their looks and charm to lead me astray, but if that were the case, I'd feel like their attempts would be more deliberate and pointed. As far as I can tell, they're simply doing their job ensuring that our stay in the Devildom is as comfortable as possible. I don't think they even realize what they're doing to me, which makes the idea of them manipulating me that much more unlikely.

So why am I feeling this way towards them?

I head down to the kitchen to grab something to drink for Luke, hoping that the task would distract me.

But no. As soon as I enter, I notice Zephyr standing at the counter, chopping vegetables. Trying my best to ignore their presence, I head over to the refrigerator and begin rummaging through it.

"Can I help you?" they ask a couple minutes later, causing me to jump and nearly drop the bottle I have in my hand.

"Well," I respond once I've calmed down. "Luke was feeling thirsty, so I was looking for something for him to drink, but I'm not sure what's safe."

"Let me see what you have." I close the refrigerator door and turn around so that I'm facing Zephyr. "That's a bottle of wine. Probably not the best thing to give to a child. If you'll give me a moment to finish what I'm doing, I'll whip you both something safe to drink."

"Thank you." I stick the bottle back in the fridge. "You're proof that there are some very kind demons out there."

Father, what am I thinking?!

Thankfully, Luke is in our room, or he'd be chewing me out for saying that, and rightfully so. The whole thing might just be an act, part of a scheme to trick me. They might even be putting a curse on me at this very moment.

So why do I feel certain that they're not planning on doing that to me?

"Everything alright?" Zephyr asks, forcing me back into the present moment.

"Yeah," I answer. "I was just zoning out a bit, that's all." They don't seem to buy my lie, but they're also not pressing me further about it, so I suppose I'll take that as a win.

"I'm actually glad you decided to stop by. I'd like you to taste something for me."

Great. This is what I get for being too trusting.

"Don't worry, Simeon. I haven't tampered with it." They've sensed my concern. "Even if I wanted to, there simply isn't enough time to put an angel-specific curse on it and still have everything ready for dinner at a reasonable time. Plus, I don't like a spoiled meal."

I mean...they have a point.

"What is it?"

"I've made a dessert from the Celestial Realm. I figured it would help you guys feel more at ease here if you were able to eat something you recognized at least once during your stay. I'm just not sure if I've prepared it right or not. It's currently chilling in the fridge."

I'm not sure how I missed the giant container of angel pudding before, but I grab it and set it on the counter. Zephyr grabs me a spoon, and I scoop a little of the pudding out and stick the dessert in my mouth.

It's...wow. The only words that come to mind that are close to describing how good this pudding is are in Old Angelic, and there's no way Zephyr's going to understand any of them.

However, I must have a pleasant enough look on my face for them to be satisfied.

"I'm glad you like it," they tell me as they put the pudding away. "I've been taking lessons with Barbatos." That explains some of it. He's regarded as one of the best bakers in not just the Devildom, but in all of the three realms.

But in order for him to be a successful teacher, there has to be some natural talent in his student, which Zephyr clearly has.

The soft smile they give me makes me feel like my stomach's doing flips, making me remember why I was nervous to be around them in the first place.

This is going to be a long visit.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[hungryforjay]

after hours ✦ nishimura riki

[g angst, bsf riki, confessions]

✦ smoking terms: “joint” + “jay” is a rolled marijuana cigarette, “cherry” refers to the end of a joint/jay (the red/fire that leaks smoke) “rolling tray” is a tray you use to roll a joint, to “pull” a joint is to suck it as you inhale so “pulling” means you’re taking a hit, “roach” is the remains of a joint that’s already been smoked.

✦ i tried to make this as genderless as possible, as i do with all my au’s. the pictures might be misleading but it’s more for the aesthetic!

“you sick of me yet?”

the lighter flickered a few times before igniting, the wind pushing away its attempts and pulling your hands to form a barrier around his.

he lifted the joint to your lips and grounded his finger against the gear to light the end of it, you pulled on his go. a faint taste of blueberry hit the back of your mouth as you inhaled and exhaled, eyes stuck on riki’s who eyed the wandering flame.

“sick of you? ‘m sick of everyone,” you mumbled and snagged the joint, fingers brushing his as you took another drag and watched as the paper burned.

he hummed, leaning back on the step and setting the lighter on his thigh. the porch light only did so much, you couldn’t see anything but yourselves and the rolling tray with your contents. the breeze let you know of the trees that were there up ahead, the rustle of the leaves against each other, the wind chimes dangling from the house lining.

you’ve known riki since you were fourteen and since then him and his family have long known of your family issues. the moment you turned eighteen you put your hands on your mothers boyfriend after he attempted to grope you after a shower, and in result you ended up homeless in the street with nothing but a towel on and a broken heart on your sleeve.

it was bordering week three of your stay in riki’s home.

his folks were nice enough to let you crash, acting as a set of parents you never had, and to show your gratitude you cleaned up your act. you kept the house tidy, you walked the dog, hell you even spoke nicer to riki during the hours when they were awake.

after hours was when the real you came out.

exhaling another puff, your wrist bent backwards towards riki, handing over the jay.

the summer heat was like no other. humidity licked at your skin, coating your lungs as you took a sharp inhale that formed into a nasty cough. a rough and calloused hand rubbed your lower back in small circles, slow and comforting.

“you sure that’s not gonna change?” riki muttered, the smoke wafting centimeters from your face.

with eyes teary and red rimmed you looked back at him, he who avoided your gaze by staring at the firefly crawling up the step below him.

he always did this.

communicate useless worries of you abandoning him like everyone else did. the only time you’ve come close to leaving him was when you both were fifteen, the friendship still fresh and vulnerable. you didn’t know how to communicate then but you know now, because who knew how to when they were fifteen?

how does any teenager know?

your hand found its way to his knee, knocking the lighter down in favor of your fingers resting there. he took another hit and put the joint besides the ash tray, the smoke from the cherry still burning.

“i don’t want you to take this the wrong way. okay?” you finally spoke, words sounding foreign rolling off your tongue.

you were out of it and you were sure riki was too. your body felt farther than it was and your eyes kept darting from thing to thing to make sure you were still alive.

“riki…you’ve done so much for me, so so so many things that i couldn’t ever imagine happening for me but it has because of you. your heart is so large, i’m—i’m so blessed and privileged to be able to feel its embrace and i’m thankful everyday that i get to wake up next to someone who loves me so much and values me in their life as i do them.”

word vomit. word vomit. word vomit.

“and that’s not the only reason why—do not take this the wrong way i do not love you just because you give me things. i love you because you are you. i love your smile and i love your laugh. i love your god awful food combinations and your never ending attempts to make me try them. i love when you play songs on your keyboard and i love your voice when you sing me songs you wrote,” your hand jumped away from his knee as a tear threatened to release, you quickly swiped it away.

you looked at riki for the first time since before the speech, and you couldn’t tell if his eyes were red because of the high or because of you.

“i love you and i will never leave you. ever.”

because you’ll never leave me. ever.

overwhelmed, you stood up with the sudden urge to find a bathroom and cry until you got over whatever the hell you just spewed. it was true of course, and that was the problem that it is true, you’ve barely even said those words to yourself before let alone outloud.

before you made it to the door his hand reached and gripped onto yours, forcing your body to pivot back into his. you eyes bore onto riki’s, his face getting inches closer as he stood fully, slowly, until he towered over you with squinted eyes that trailed down to your lips.

your rising heartbeat reached your ears and your body vibrated with each pump, you hoped riki couldn’t notice, you prayed riki didn’t notice. your senses were heightened times ten and for the first time ever you regretted smoking because why could you feel everything—every emotion swirling in the pits of your stomach threatening to spill through your mouth.

he opened his mouth and his breath hitched. with a free hand he ran through his unruly bed head, gaze flickering elsewhere for a few moments until he landed back on you.

oh shit. oh fuck. oh shit.

the wind chimes clanked against each other in the wind. you scrunched your toes against the floor of your sandal, trying to ground yourself, trying to feel real.

“i love you and i’ll never leave you. ever.” his whisper was the last thing you heard before he moved in closer, pink lips slotting between yours in a deep and hungry kiss.

you leaned back, eyebrows furrowing and throat humming in his as your lips moved against each other, devouring, starving. his hand slid under your jaw and his thumb pulled the corner of your mouth down to open it up more, tongue slipping and pushing into yours.

riki was a man of few words, only going on tangents when he was really passionate about something.

he must’ve been really passionate about this.

you hadn’t realized you were moving ‘til your back hit the screen door, bouncing riki’s lips off yours but he chased after you like it was the last time he’d ever taste them again.

weed. peach tea. a faint taste of caramel candy. all from riki’s mouth. all from yours. bitter and sweet, like your relationship to each other.

a groan slipped past your lips as his hand found its way to your leg, lifting it and pressing it into his side, his body pressing deeper into yours.

it was impossible to think of anything else but riki in this moment, but the blinking light directed over the door had you pushing him back. he hummed, confused, lips pouting and glistening with spit.

you jerked your head over to the security camera and brushed off your clothes. you had half a mind to feel embarrassed, the other part still riding off the high of hormones and marijuana.

he nodded, out of breath just as you were and reached down to grab the half burned joint, damn near a roach at this point.

“finish this in bed?” he mumbled, grabbing your rolling tray with the same hand.

smiling, you nodded back, cheeks red and warm, eyes red and shiny.

a/n broke my 6 day t break clap if you care

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Is the Alphabet still going on? If so can I please get I, J, K, L and N with Paulie?? I’m sooooo starved for content for this man!!

Paulie my beloved~

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Paulie leans towards some old-fashioned mindsets as far as your relationship goes. Getting married at some point in the near future feels like a given to him. As soon as he's developed a romantic interest in you, it'll only take him a few months to propose. He won't take no for an answer when he does. Any attempt to reject him will be misinterpreted as you just being shy or playing hard to get. He's eager to be a good husband and provider for you and loves the idea of being able to come home to his darling at the end of a long day.

While he does like the idea of potentially having children with you, he's too shy to bring it up. It'll be up to you if you guys have any.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Paulie gets horribly jealous very easily. He doesn't want anyone to so much as looking at you. Ideally, he wants to keep you locked away in his home, only letting you out when he's with you. It's a toss up if he'll be more mad at you or the other person that's making him jealous. So long as you don't do a single thing that could be interpreted as reciprocating the other person's "advances", Paulie will just focus on getting rid of them. He makes it quick, usually just punching their lights out and flinging them away using his ropes.

If he thinks that you were even a little bit into it, he'll go quiet and stare at you with the scariest expression. The other person is still getting their ass beat, but now you're in trouble, too. He'll drag you back home while being eerily silent, but once you're behind closed doors, he's in your face and yelling at you for being a "harlot" amongst other far worse things. Then he'll restrain you with ropes and leave you alone in your shared room until he's calmed down enough to talk.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

In public, he always has a hand on you while scrutinizing everyone around you. Other people see him as being an overprotective but well meaning boyfriend.

In private, he's much more affectionate. He can't get enough of you. He's always finding an excuse to be touching you, though he prefers anything where he's holding you from behind. The reason for this is because he gets more flustered when he can see your face. He enjoys helping you out in any way that he can, but he also wants you to dote on him in return.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

His behavior before you get together does nothing to tip you off. He's constantly flustered and blushing whenever you're around. You can definitely tell that he has a crush, but you have no idea how deep that goes. He initially tries to get you interested in him by giving you little gifts or offering his services to fix anything of yours that's broken.

The more that you indulge him, the more bold he gets. You might come home and find him fixing the hinges on your bathroom door even though you never gave him permission to come over. Or let him in. The gifts also start getting more grand and expensive (much to the frustration of his debt collectors). At this point, he already considers you two to be in a relationship and will casually refer to you as his significant other.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

While he would never physically hurt you, he can lash out verbally if you do something to upset him. If you really push him, he'll tie you up with ropes and leave you alone in a dark room for hours until he's calmed down and you've "learned your lesson". If you got any rope burns during this, he would get this guilty look on his face and silently clean and bandage the wounds. He doesn't apologize, though, because he believes that you ultimately deserved it.

[paintedkinzy-88]

For the rottmnt dragon au, since Leo is jealous of the others ability to fly etc etc, do the other brothers also have elements of Leo that they’re jealous over?

Or follow up question: what are some very unique traits to each of the brothers and their “species” of dragon?

…This’ll definitely get so long, I apologize in advance XD

I’ll try to highlight which paragraph is for which character, maybe that’ll make it easier???

Starting with the unique traits! To get my thoughts together hahaha.

Mikey’s the fastest flier and can make those real quick maneuvers in midair! He likes testing his limits and learning new tricks, all of which give Raph a heart attack. He’s especially proud of dive bombing, where he can tuck in to basically a tiny missile. His tail’s also the most prehensile of the bunch! I gave him the long tail as a reference to his nunchuck chains, so you bet he can grab things and hang from it. Very useful in a fight!

Oh and he breathes fire. He’s the “truest” dragon of them, which is why he’s so much more mystically powerful later on.

Leo’s very similar to Mikey, but in the water. His scales are smooth and he’s physically lean, so he’s an incredibly fast swimmer — and those fins make for quick turns! He can regulate his body temperature a lot more than his brothers, making him less susceptible to the cold, which is helpful for diving. On smaller details, he has the best sight, underwater “hearing” (like he can feel vibrations in the water), and mystic talent (meaning portals are so hard to learn, and he figured it out pretty quickly, even if it might not look like it).

Donnie may not be the fastest swimmer, with his rougher scales and larger figure, but he is more physically strong than his younger brothers. He’s technically faster than Leo, but it’s only in small bursts, giving him a sort of “ramming” ability underwater. He may not be able to breathe fire like Mikey, but it’s clear he was meant to, as he can practically boil water in his throat and mouth to spit at threats. His bite is also quick and powerful, and his lack of chest plates leads to better flexibility in general!

Raph is obviously the tank of the group. He’s stronger in every physical aspect, including his jaws, wings, hands, and, more specifically, his tail. He has the sharpest claws/spines and the most durable body as well, meaning it’s incredibly hard to hurt him or even chip his spines/horns/claws. His size doesn’t make him very fast or agile, but he’s not slow either. He’s also the one that’s sufficient in both land and water (naturally, that is, now that Donnie built his own wings), though that may be more because he had to teach himself to swim well when the twins were younger…

Now, on the “jealousy” question…

Donnie has a tendency to try and match his brothers in areas he is not as naturally talented at, specifically flying and swimming. He admires Leo’s speed and diving abilities underwater, as well as Mikey’s speed and agility in the air. He has always challenged Leo in the water since they were tots, usually trying to test boosters and the such, but has more recently taken to trying to beat Mikey in flight instead. Either way, he hasn’t beaten them much even with his inventions. At this point, he’s just using the two of them as references and a challenge, and has accepted he’d likely never get to their level. (It also doesn’t help that both Mikey and Leo have STRONG competitive natures lmao)

He also wishes he had Raph’s durability, since his scales, though rough, aren’t much when it comes to protection. That’s probably his biggest concern.

Mikey wishes he could swim in general. The little guy’s more like an eagle in the water— he can somewhat swim but is very slow and vulnerable. Imagine a doggy paddle, but with the addition of flapping splashing wings. He also likes to challenge Leo to races, but aside from Mikey sometimes having an advantage in the air, Leo usually still wins. But, aside from maybe wanting Raph’s big size sometimes, the lil dude is pretty content as is!

Raph admires his all of his lil bros’ maneuverability and size (hard to hide in a busy city when you’re an absolute giant). He’s simultaneously envious and terrified of Mikey’s fire and Donnie’s boiling water abilities, too. As much as he would love to be more like a classic dragon, he also sees the absolute disaster it can be, and has been, for the two of them. They don’t need any more fires and scorch marks in the lair, thank you. Raph’s also jealous of Leo’s quick thinking and plan-making, but is equally as proud of it.

It’s all not really on the same level as Leo and flight though… a lot of this is wishing they could do something better like their brothers, or they just accept it’s not possible and move on. Leo dreams of doing something he physically cannot do, and is willing to put his life at risk to even try and fake the same feeling… He can’t accept it. Or at least he can’t move past it.

I like to think the one closest to understanding Leo’s inner turmoil is April! She’s been hanging around these living mythical creatures for years, and the best she can ever get to their level is riding on their back, and that’s really only comfortable on Donnie. At the end of the day, though, she’s the most jealous of Leo in particular, cuz as fun as it is to fly, she’s far more fascinated with the ocean’s mysteries, and Leo’s the only one who can dive deep enough to see them.

[trashland-llamas]

I'll Stay

Sequel to Exsanguination

x female reader

‘I’d like to stay with you.’ Astarion’s heart fluttered at y/n’s response. Having waited through the night as she recovered from being the tavern’s feeding bag. Astarion checked over her bandages, freshly clean ones replaced the blood crusted old ones. Fingers light so she wouldn’t wince. The bruises hadn’t gone down in the slightest. ‘…okay then.’ Clapping his hands, he set off to pack up camp, wanting to introduce y/n to the rest of his party. ‘We might end up doing odd jobs here and there, you good with that?’

‘As long as I don’t have to be a blood bag again, I’m fine.’ Comfortable voicing her opinion. ‘No offense.’ Having forgotten in the moment that Astarion used to be a vampire. ‘Oh, none taken sweets. Plus with the way they treated you, I’m not surprised.’ Astarion how she would have to return to tavern that morning to pick up her last paycheck and essentially give her 2 week notice. Not that Astarion would let her even entertain staying around for said 2 weeks.

'Quick in and out, yea? Think you can do that?' Astarion tried hyping y/n up to face her boss. Tailing behind as a shadow since worrying about her safety. If there was no oversight the first time they met except for the bartenders who only looked out for themselves. Astarion wasn't annoyed at them for such self preservation, rather that there was no one to protect an employee that was put in such a vulnerable position day in and night out. Especially when in a job position that definitely brought heaps of profit to the establishment. Hiding his sneer when y/n gave him one last glance for reassurance.

'Ah, y/n! Nice to see your stellar face again, what can I do for you?' It was all a facade. Shown by the vice grip of his handshake and the tight lipped smile. 'Uh...I want to put in my resignation today.'

'Well, it's sad to see you go but if you insist. What date do you plan to be your last?'

'Yesterday.'

‘While I appreciate it, you didn’t need to do that,’ Y/n felt guilty, his bruised wrist gripping the reins. Bestowed with a constant viewpoint of it, sat in front of him. Arms sandwiched her in place. Astarion had punched her boss in the face after he had the audacity to try and get away with not paying her. ‘Don’t sweat it, the guy was a scumbag.’ Biting through the pain that was his knuckles throbbing. Surrounded by dried blood. ‘Seems like it hurts.’ It wasn’t the worst injury he’d endured but he wasn’t used to the healing process that came with wounds. It all annoyed Astarion to no end. One of the few things that he missed about being a vampire. 'It'll heal back up in no time. You didn't force me to punch him. Did it out of my own free will.' She could sense the heaviness that accompanied his words, a hidden meaning that she wasn't yet privy to.

‘What was it like, being a vampire?’ Hearing how long the horse ride was estimated to take, y/n wanted to learn more about him. ‘Hungry,’ remembering how lethargic he’d get when he wasn’t able to find animals to feed on, never really feeling satiated. ‘And oh so lonely. More of a pawn that someone used to lure others to their death. Thought he was my savior for the longest time.’ Averting his gaze from her neck. ‘Never longing?’ Not wanting to ascertain exactly how long. ‘No, too much fear to even dare.’

‘You don’t have to answer, but did anyone try any… funny business? When I spotted you last night, you were so out of it. Damn near loopy.’ Astarion worried while he kept watch over her sleeping form, double checking that she was still breathing at multiple points. His tomes unable to stave it, barely concentrating on the words. ‘I’ll admit that there were some close calls here and there. A few ‘patrons’ over the years tried to suck me dry. The hangovers were downright terrible.’

Astarion held onto y/n’s waist as he helped her off the horse, hands braced upon his shoulders. ‘Should I be aware of anything before meeting your friends?’ Letting out a laugh, ‘They’re an eccentric bunch, can be overwhelming at first. Interacting with all them at once. But they mean well,’ he answered honestly, not wanting to scare her off. Giving her a rundown of all their quirks. 

'Fangs! Oh, who is this? And what adventure did you get up to?’' Karlach greeted the duo. The tiefling’s second question being a nod to their small injuries. ‘Y/n, think you could say Astarion rescued me for a bleak life at a tavern.’ Withholding some details, cognizant of the fact that she’d have to introduce herself a dozen times over. Waving Astarion off, Karlach takes over, guiding you around camp. 

[corrodedcoughin]

younger Eddie being excited to go to sleep because he unintentionally figured out lucid dreaming so he could plan entire dnd campaigns and feel like he was creating his own fantasy world

Sometimes he’d just go to the shire and hang out with his favourite characters, watching Gandalf’s fireworks, eating with the hobbit and hearing stories from Aragorn and Boromir while being infatuated by Legolas and Gimli’s interactions with each other

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

me: wakes up and uses my entire photo upload limit immediately

[spirirsstuff]

planning my connor murphy costume for halloween

[dirt-str1der]

Love all the randos in y0 making fun of majima for being skinny calling him shit like stickman and other insulting things i forgot and they make sure to really cement that majima is your wireframe protagonist and then he takes off his shirt and hes literally normal shaped. Bullshit i want to see a scarecrow i dont like his beefy body , you hyped me up only to lie to me

[dan-crimes]

The world isn't ready for all my amazing and wonderful takes on media but maybe my OCs will make them understand...

[shatteredfears-arch]

anyways normalize lucas surviving his death at the hands of chris bc wtf his dad survived like 20 times why tf not but also lucas being insanely pissed off bc ethan became the head of the strain and lucas wanted that shit

[actiniumwrites]

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

synopsis: wriothesley finds out you have a crush on someone and somehow manages to guess it’s on literally everyone but himself

characters: wriothesley x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: fluff, a tiny pinch of angst and insecurity, my poor attempt at humor, slight miscommunication, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, swearing, first time writing for wriothesley so he might be ooc

notes: i almost made this angst to fluff but then decided i need to stop adding angst into literally everything i write (even though there’s like a tiny pinch of angst in here too 🙄). anyway, wriothesley is a lot harder to write than i thought he would be so i apologize if he seems ooc here

“Heard you gotta crush on someone,” Wriothesley teases as he walks into his office where you sit on one of his couches. You don’t even hear him walk in, too engaged in the book you were reading to pass time until you had to go through hundreds of inmate records to find something Neuvillette had requested.

His declaration is so sudden it almost makes you spit out the tea you had stolen from him.

Your eyes go wide as you stare at where he moves to lean against the front of his desk, arms crossed and waiting for an answer with that stupid smirk of his, “Hey now, that tea is expensive, so don’t go wasting it, okay?”

“Who told you about that?” you press for answers, a hint of anger in your voice as you ignore his previous statement about the tea. He had plenty to spare anyway.

Wriothesley’s smirk widens a bit, “So it is true.”

Damn him.

You don’t even bother trying to make an excuse, knowing your best friend all too well. He’d pick apart your words like weeds in a garden, finding meaning in them that you hadn’t even intended.

“And what if it is true?” you cross your arms defensively, glaring at him from across the room.

“At least tell me who it is,” he says as he rests his palms on the wooden desk behind him. When you don’t give in to his pleading, he playfully scoffs, “Oh c’mon, I’m your best friend! It’s kinda an obligation for you to tell me these things.”

You turn away, fixating your gaze on a nearby wall adorned with some weird painting he had hung awhile back, “Oh yeah? Since when? Last I checked there aren’t any rule books for being friends with someone. I don’t have to tell you a damn thing.”

“It’s Neuvillette, isn’t it?” he smiles knowingly. Perhaps that was why you were always the one receiving tasks from the Chief Justice instead of him — a guess at best, but enough evidence to convince him Neuvillette was the one.

No, you idiot. It’s you.

You snap your head back toward him, “What? No! I don’t like Neuvillette…not like that, at least. He’s nice and all, but I don’t think I’d be able to date the guy.”

“Damn, I really thought I had that one,” Wriothesley mumbles in defeat, pushing himself off the desk and instead moving to walk around the room as he thinks. It scares you. The fact that he’s so particular with facts and little details that it’s only a matter of time before he collects all the pieces to the puzzle and figures out he’s the one you like. What would he say when that happens? “Too nice, huh? So you like someone a little colder, then.”

Damn it, he got you again!

You don’t answer him.

“Not even going to try to deny it?”

“No,” you grumble to yourself, slumping further into the couch, “you’re only going to dig further anyway.”

He gives a satisfied hum, “Right, so it’s Clorinde then. I mean c’mon, we don’t get a lot of visitors, so it has to be her. She fits the description too.”

You exhaustedly sigh and swipe a hand over your face dramatically, done with his antics, “It’s not her either. And there is no ‘description.’”

He perks up in a way that makes you way too uncomfortable, “Navia?”

“No, I’ve never even met her aside from like one time two years ago,” you refute, sliding further down on the couch to fully lie down and shut your eyes, “I don’t get why you’re so excited over this.”

Wriothesley thinks for a moment before squinting his eyes, “Don’t tell me you have a crush on a prisoner?”

You teasingly peek an eye open while leaning back to look at him, “And if I did?”

“You better not,” he warns, pointing a stern finger at you like you were a prisoner and not his coworker.

You laugh to yourself at his sudden change of mood, “Relax, I was only joking!”

“Not funny,” he says unamused, prepared to pull out the prison’s rule book and slap it over your head if you did, “I’m really runnin’ out of people here.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, “thousands of people live in Fontaine. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

You really hope he doesn’t.

The following ten minutes consist of Wriothesley irritatingly pacing around the room and mumbling all sorts of names to himself. Some of which you recognized, others you had never even heard of before. And, despite all of your countless no’s to his guesses, he never gives up. Nor does he realize the answer is right in front of him.

“Just give it up already,” you finally interrupt as he stops in front of you.

A heavy sigh falls from Wriothesley’s lips as he collapses onto the couch, narrowly missing where your legs were outstretched. Defeatedly, he lays his head against the back of the sofa, shutting his eyes as he thinks a little harder. “Oh my god,” he says suddenly, head shooting up to look at you, “…don’t tell me.”

No way. Did he figure it out?

Your breath captures in your throat as his eyes flicker back and forth between your own, searching for some sort of truth. He knows. Your best friend knows that you have feelings for him — and not just the platonic kind.

His brows furrow and his face morphs into one of disgust. It makes your heart drop; the way he’s looking at you.

He doesn’t feel the same way.

“I can’t believe it,” he clicks his tongue in disgust, crossing his arms and turning his attention away from you, “you like Furina.”

Your jaw drops to the floor and suddenly you don’t feel bad anymore, “I actually can’t believe you just said that. Archons, I think you need to visit Sigewinne. I mean, seriously! Furina? Of all people!”

He grins and shrugs carelessly, “I don’t know? She was the last person I could think of.”

“Something is seriously wrong with you.”

“Clearly not so wrong that I couldn’t figure out that the person you actually like is me.”

“Oh please, I don’t even—wait, what? You knew?!”

A boisterous laugh erupts suddenly as you stare at him with wide eyes. You sit up on the couch quickly, slapping his shoulder as he continues to laugh, “Sorry, sorry!”

You don’t find it amusing, “I—when did you figure it out?”

His laugh eventually subsides into a drawn out sigh and his blue eyes soften a bit as they gaze into your own, “I’m not an idiot, you know? I wouldn’t be running this place if I was.”

“Right,” you mumble awkwardly, averting your gaze from his, “so, um, were you just doing all that to lighten the mood so you could let me down easily or…?”

“Or…what?” Wriothesley mocks you, a playful smirk pulling at his lips.

You roll your eyes with a scoff, “don’t make me say it.”

He spares you, luckily. It’s unlike him, but he doesn’t care to joke with you any longer when the subject is so serious, “Yes, I feel the same way. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, I totally wanted to hear you say you hate me and want me dead,” you say sarcastically, trying to fight a smile.

“I’m being serious, I really do like you,” Wriothesley presses, ignoring the way you’re becoming awkward from the nervousness floating in the air.

You finally exhale the breath you had been guarding in your chest, relieved that this didn’t go as horribly as you once thought it would.

The alarm sounding for dinner goes off after and you both stand from your places on the couch, “So what do we do now that that’s out of the way?”

Wriothesley falls into step next to you, holding the doors to his office open to let you out first, “We have our first date in the cafeteria, of course.”

Your face drops and you stop in your tracks to glare at him, “That better be a joke.”

He laughs it off quickly, not thinking you’d take it so seriously. Eagerly, he grabs your hand tightly in his as he pulls you to the exit of the Fortress, “Relax, I’m just teasing you! You deserve only the best, after all.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”