#perhaps it fills me with so much rage because i do so much work to help those less adoptable cats

[pwurrz]

the misinformation about no kill shelters fills me with burning rage ahahahaha

[hllywdwhre]

Revenge - Tommy Shelby

Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy

Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any

Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖

MDNI, 18+ only

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.

Scratch that.

You knew exactly how it had happened.

Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.

Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.

It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.

Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.

It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.

“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.

Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.

“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.

Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.

The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.

You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,

“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”

You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,

“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.

Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.

The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.

Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.

Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.

You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.

I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.

You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.

As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.

The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.

“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.

The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.

You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.

You needed Sabini to notice you.

You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.

The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.

You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.

It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.

“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.

A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,

“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.

“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“

“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”

His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.

“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.

Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.

“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.

He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.

Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.

“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.

You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.

“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.

“And how do you see it?”

“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.

“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.

His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.

“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.

You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.

“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”

“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.

“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”

His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.

“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”

In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.

You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.

Revenge is a scorned Shelby

As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.

Sabini is dead.

That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.

But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.

You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.

You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.

When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.

You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.

He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.

Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.

“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,

“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.

“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”

“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.

“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.

“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.

“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”

“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.

“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.

“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”

“Explain.”

“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.

“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.

“Yes.”

“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.

You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”

“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.

In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.

“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.

“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.

“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.

“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.

He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.

“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.

He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.

He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,

“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,

“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.

“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”

The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.

“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.

“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.

You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.

His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.

It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.

His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.

Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.

Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”

Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.

Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.

You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.

If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.

And then your third.

Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.

He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.

“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”

You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.

“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.

Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.

The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.

Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.

He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.

His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.

The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.

“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.

“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.

“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.

“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”

“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.

“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.

You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.

His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.

“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.

His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.

Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.

“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.

“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.

“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”

His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.

“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.

“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.

“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.

A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.

He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.

“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.”

[the-whispers-of-death]

Home Again

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Most gods would be happy that they were back in the paradise realm after previously being banished and stripped of their divinity, but Fallen God!Ghost aches for you.

His nights are spent dreaming about you, the mortal who showed him what love was. He dreamt of sleeping beside you, kissing you, even cooking with you. He dreamt of your beautiful hair, your breathtaking eyes, your jaw-dropping smile. His dreams were filled with memories of your laughter, your smooth and lyrical voice.

Paradise realm is a paradise, sure, but nothing could compare to you. Your beauty outshines the paradise realm's, your presence calms Ghost in a way the paradise realm can never. The air was always lighter when he was around you, the colors of the world always brighter. You are his light, his world, and everything is dull without you.

He spends week after week searching for how to get back to the mortal realm and back to you. His power is potent, he can just teleport himself down to the mortal realm to see you but that doesn't seem like a satisfying answer to him.

Ghost would eventually have to leave you and go back to the paradise realm, forced to be able to only visit you from time to time. He didn't want that, he can't bear the thought of leaving you. Of sleeping in his own bed, alone.

He also couldn't make you a concubine of his, bring you to the paradise realm. It didn't feel right for him to ask you to leave everything you knew behind just so you could spend hours alone in his temple while he worked. You deserve better than that.

So what else was there to do?

It takes Ghost a few days to realize what he must do. What he has to do in order to see you again.

He is standing in God!Price's temple, all of the deities summoned there for the monthly update of what the pantheon has been doing since they last convened. He can barely hear what the others are saying, it being meaningless as his mind finally reaches an answer to his burning question.

"I'm stripping myself of my godhood and powers, permanently," Ghost says, interrupting the conversation.

The entire temple is silenced at once, everyone turning their heads to stare at Ghost in disbelief.

A god deliberately turning himself mortal? That was unheard of. It was absurd to even those deities who loved the mortals so much.

Price frowns, clearly thinking Ghost has gone mad. "Now, Ghost, let's think about this," he says, his words slow and carefully curated. "You can't just abandon your godly duties, you're the God of Warfare. If there's one thing that the mortals do the most, it's engaging in war."

Ghost scoffs. "My duties can easily be done by our Goddess of War," he replies, gesturing with his hand towards said goddess. "I no longer want to be a god."

His words ignite a flurry of murmurs between the other deities, all of them shocked beyond disbelief. They don't understand why he wouldn't want to be a god, especially after centuries of hearing him look down on mortals.

"Is this because of the mortal you met during your banishment, {Name}?" Price asks, peeved now. "I hadn't thrown you down to them for you to fall in love with them, Ghost."

"No, you did it so I could learn the importance of mortals and I have," Ghost cuts in, his power flaring up as his anger spikes. This isn't up for debate. "I'm doing this no matter what any of you say, I was doing a courteous thing by giving you all a heads-up."

Price shifts in the seat of his throne, itching to get up and slap some sense into Ghost. "Enough of this, Ghost. You don't even know if they will take you if you're not a god. Perhaps that was the only reason they fell in love with you in the first place."

Ghost snarls in rage at the accusation and assassination of your character. "Even if that's the case, which I doubt it is, it is my choice. I'd rather spend the rest of my mortal life heartbroken if they turn me away than spend eternity aching for them," he says defiantly.

Immense power fills the temple, all of it Ghost's as he pools it all in his veins. Stripping himself of his godhood and powers is excruciating, the pain almost enough to stop him, but he keeps pressing on with the action.

It was worth it, for you.

"Someone stop him!" Price bellows at the other deities, but it's too late.

Just as God!Soap reaches for Ghost to try and stop him, Ghost's godhood and powers are stripped from him, his last act of being a god is to send his mortal form where it needs to be: at your doorstep.

His second fall seems euphoric, a laugh bubbling up in his chest as he falls through the clouds and lands on your front porch just like he had done months ago.

He looks to the side just as you open your front door, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of you. The weight on his chest is lifted, everything falling into place once more.

"Ghost?" You ask, surprised. You had thought you would never see him again. "Did... Did you get your godhood taken away again?"

Ghost stands with your help, his skin thrumming at the sensation of your hands on him again. "I took it away myself," he murmurs, breathless as he stares in your beautiful eyes.

Your face twists into confusion, which makes sense since he had been itching to be a god again the first time he fell. "Why?"

"For you, love. I couldn't bear to live eternity without you," Ghost says, secretly nervous that you won't take him now that he's not a god. "I love you, {Name}."

"I love you too," you reply, making him relax. You step closer, happy that this isn't a dream. "I don't care that you're not a god anymore, I only ever wanted you."

"You will always have me, for as long as you will have me."

Ghost steps closer as well, reaching up to gently cradle your face between his hands. He can't wait for you to lean in as well, though you do so as he gently presses his lips against yours.

The kiss can only be described as heavenly, all of the noises of city life fading away until there was only the sound of you two kissing. It's so gentle and slow, Ghost savoring what it's like to kiss you. He pours every ounce of love into the kiss, needing you to be filled with his love.

It feels like you are kissing for hours before you both pull away for air. Your soft pants fill the air between you two, you smiling at him.

"Come on," you say, gently grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together. "Let's go inside and have dinner together."

Ghost nods and follows you inside the house that truly feels like home now. He lets you lead him into the kitchen, not even complaining about having to cook with you.

He had been a fallen god when he had first met you but now, he was neither fallen nor a god. He was just Ghost. A man you loved.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[thedevilspearl]

favourite time of the day — all brothers

a/n: so this one is inspired by moonlight sunrise by twice and are basically my headcanons of the brothers’s favourite times of the day to have sex. and before you tell me, i know the devildom is dark 100% of the time but these are just how i imagine them if they had both daylight and night time.

tags: all brothers. no explicit smut but consistent discussion of sex, so minors do not interact!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 likes to head to bed early; he needs his rest. so he tries his best not to be too active in the evening or else he won’t sleep a wink. that is until he’s stuck in his office with a raging boner under his desk because he thought about you for a little too long. he’s not sleeping now either way so as soon as he gets his hands on you, he’s giving you all he’s got. his evenings finally feel more fun with you. he doesn’t get any work done because his desk is occupied with your bare bodies, but this is a much more satisfying way to spend his evenings.

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍 lives for the nights. daytime is a hassle, but the night is when he peaks. more so, the early hours of the morning. the vibes of a pitch black sky signalling the end of his rowdy night out. and as much as he’d love to stay out until dawn, he’d rather bring you home safe and sound and use all of his remaining energy (which is a lot) to fuck the living daylights out of you. he doesn’t stop until the sun rises, and he finally collapses with his arms around you as golden rays fill his room, lulling you both to sleep with the added warmth.

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 finds something provoking about late afternoon and early evening. he likes dusk in particular, the air is different. it feels romantic and dreamy, but also nothing out of his comfort zone. it’s a relatively quiet time so he won’t feel disturbed. at this time, he’s tired after a long day of classes, but he’s not quite ready for dinner yet. and he needs something to fill the time which would usually be games but spending time with you will always come out on top. so he always tries to fill this time with a shared intimate experience.

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍 is a difficult one to figure out but it depends entirely on his mood. he doesn’t have a specific preference, but cares more about whether he will be disturbed or not. so again, it depends on the mood. if it’s a busy morning, no morning sex. but if he knows it’s a quiet morning and the two of you are alone, then he’s all for some lazy morning sex. it works in the evenings like this, too. he won’t ever make a move if he knows his brothers will interrupt him at any given minute, but perhaps when they’re busy downstairs, he’ll sneak you up to his room and give you the perfect end to your day.

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒 is all about that daylight. sure, romantic candlelit sex at night is nice, but there are too many shadows working hard to hide your body from him. he doesn’t want a single inch of you hidden away from him. there’s just something so sweet about it, too. most people assume these kinds of things happen at night when it’s quiet and intimate, and that’s why he loves sex with you during the day all the more. he can escape from all of his duties and responsibilities and instead adore all of you with his undivided attention.

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁 is an early bird. he rises with the sun and has the most energy on mornings when the golden sunlight pours into the bedroom, highlighting your body in all the right places and making you glow. he is definitely the type to wake you up with oral; he wants you at any given time of the day, but mornings feel special in a way. there is added intimacy from waking up in each others arms and being alone together. he can’t imagine his mornings any other way because sex with you is always the best start to his day.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑 is a night guy, there is no question about it. and while he’d rather spend his nights sleeping and dreaming until his heart is content, no dream could ever beat the real thing. the night for him is long, too. it could be from nightfall all the way until dawn. it doesn’t matter to him, as long as it’s dark and he can feel the vibe of night time. it’s comforting to him, and he wants to share that cosiness with you. it’s the right amount of seductiveness and sleepiness in the dark, so sex with belphie at night is the dreamiest!

[utilitycaster]

You mentioned it briefly a few months ago (but it lives rent free in my head sorry!) that the most popular ship from this campaign has almost only AU fanfics and it's really telling me something about the characters from c3, that there is just really nothing to explore about them.

So here's the thing. I do not think the characters aren't worth exploring! There's been good character work (a lot of which gets ignored, actually, because it's not what many of the people who insist that C3 is their favorite as they slowly turn into a corncob want*; see basically anyone on Twitter about Orym), it's just not central to the plot.

I stand by what I originally said and which was validated at a recent Q&A panel: the cast wasn't told that this was going to be the Moon Plot Campaign (they were just told pulpier and deadlier) and Laura wasn't told that Imogen would be as central a character as she was. So I think we have characters who could have, for the most part, had a character-driven campaign around them, but it became clear relatively early on that this was the Moon Plot campaign and that wouldn't be the focus; and because to get all of his ducks in a row for the Moon Plot Matt had to take a heavier hand with the rails and as a result the party didn't have a ton of bonding time early on because they were always taking NPC missions/being ferried around in an airship with no need for watch conversations, and it's hard to go back and fill in those interactions later, which is why they've sort of fallen out of the habit.

With respect to the ship...the thing is, I genuinely believe it could have been good. The reason I'm not a fan of imo/dna isn't because I think the characters aren't good (well, my feelings on Laudna are documented but I do think Imogen is a great character). It's because, ironically enough, every barrier between them did get removed all too quickly in the service of Cottage Endgame and as a result I think many of the people who wanted that are like "wait...that's it?" Like, the gnarlrock fight fizzled out only for the same conflict to come up briefly with Ishta (swordgate) 70 episodes later and be resolved a day later in-game. When they reunited I was like you know what would have made this good? If Laudna had remained angry in episode 65 and turned Imogen down which Laura 100% expected to happen, because they hadn't talked about this and they were awkwardly trying to deal with unresolved feelings for 30+ episodes and perhaps Laudna actually leaned into Delilah wholeheartedly during that time and realized she had feelings for Imogen after all, while Imogen was simultaneously struggling with that rejection and realizing Laudna was going into a dark place but didn't feel like she could get involved, and they both leaned more (platonically) on other characters and Swordgate was the point where Laudna said "oh no, I'm becoming too much of a problem and I do want Imogen to like me" and the soul anchor felt like a culmination of a deeply felt struggle instead of a quick fix for something that had only inconvenienced her a few times and led to a 20 hour long minor spat at best? If we actually got a fucking slowburn? It would have been great! Turns out if you always go for the instant gratification, it makes for a story without any tension! And now we're watching people who were always clamoring for skipping to the good part realizing that in doing so we skipped all the buildup that makes it the good part. There could have been something to explore. It was not explored.

*I think that there are people who for whatever reason do legitimately prefer Campaign 3 for whatever reasons and are in earnest and this isn't about them. While I don't share their tastes I support them and their feelings; we all have our preferences. This is about the people who are already visibly setting up the groundwork for a dramatic rage quit that will make copious, wildly incorrect use of the term "neoliberal" if the campaign ends with the gods still in place while still insisting this is definitely the best campaign and making absolutely brainless statements about prior campaigns not being as political even though this is the least politically inclined or aware group by a country mile. I think the lesson from the above and from here is that you really cannot have your cake and eat it too.

[pigeonpeach]

A casket for one but a grave for two

Jingliu x dead foxian fem reader

Random drabble because i haven’t written in too long!!! This isn’t edited so please excuse me if it suck!!!

Also warning: reader is dead :(, desecration of a corpse/ gravesite (Its not sexual) but jingliu misses her wife and digs up her grave to celebrate what should’ve been their anniversary, angst

The night is young, the moon is full land vibrant. Its bright pearlescent colors match what remains in the casket Jingliu digs up, its lid its released as the stench of death washes over. The swordswoman doesn’t falter though, the smell of a skeleton is better than the smell of the battlefield. They’re still dressed in the beautiful hanfu she saw them in. When flesh hung on their skull, a constant pink would linger on their cheeks. They used to smell of the ocean with sea themed perfumes, their hair was always well kept, she’d run her fingers through it when stressed. The hair has since fallen off. But Jingliu isn’t herself anymore. She knows that. Something grows within her. Those cursed yellow leaves climb out if her throat with a heavy and hurtful cough, as if the roots of the ambrosial arbor grew within her lungs and tore at her veins. This day was one tragedy already, years ago, her beloved having passed in wore. Their death… the cause is starting to blur. Jingliu wonders if this cursed disease will rid her of everything, her love, her life, the memories of her wife… What had she done to deserve this cursed fate? She fought valiantly, she held her ground, and the aeons or whoever wrote the details of fate decided to play the cruelest joke on her. That her beloved would lay alone in the ground, and she would be unable to join them… not anymore. Perhaps it was the pain of the roots and leaves growing, perhaps it was the anger and homicidal reaction that drove to such extreme. In her worst moments in life, her wife was there. The sight of her alone would ease tension, her hands would work into her shoulders and her voice was the siren’s call. But she’d never hear it again, she’d never see her again. The mara cannot revive, at least that she knows of. Yingxing’s corpse had been fresh when Dan Feng committed that sin. But there is no muscle ontop of the bones, it’ll do

“Tonight is lovely isn’t it?” Jingliu held the skull of her lover in her hands with the gentleness and fondness she did in life. “Today.. today would be our 40th anniversary..”

“Actually it would be our 100th.” Jingliu could hear her say that in her head.

“It doesn’t matter the number. What matters is just how much we love each other right?” She peered into the skull, trying to mentally piece the flesh onto the bone, the eyes into the socket, the hair into the skin, but it was blurry. She felt a surge of distress, no.. she couldn’t forget. She can’t forget her. She couldn’t protect her to the end the least she can do is firmly protect her memory. Jingliu hissed in pain, clutching her head as it began to spiral with thoughts. A storm brewed, a flame ingited, a endless stream of water filling the room (metaphorically), sowing thd seeds of a rage and berserker that could cause her to further fall into the trap of mara.

“Jingliu~” a voice called, a siren’s melody that cleared the air in a instant. The night was quiet now. Nothing made a sound. Not the heliobi roaming in the gardens, nothing. But the silence didn’t feel threatening, she couldn’t explain it. She looked back at the skull. “Fight as you’ve always had. That is my wish. Do not let my death hold you back.. save them.. for me.. please..” Jingliu’s wife’s final words to her acted like a slap as she held the skull to her chest.

“I avenged you dear.. Hoolay.. he is locked away.. tortured for eternity.. never will he be able to hurt your people again.. you didn’t die for nothing.. I promise you.. I did it..” Jingliu wept silently, staring at the moon, as if to pray.

“I love you.. Jingliu..”

“I love you too, for eternities and centuries.. my love will never die even if I someday become a wretched beast.. I promise even then will your voice be my medicine…” Jingliu pressed a kiss to the skull, her lips only meeting hard snd cold teeth. She laid back on the ground, the skull on her chest, wanting to enjoy this peace for a little bit longer

[cinhomi]

hey there!! i was wondering if i could be 🐮 anon? 🫣

also… *hard thought incoming* what do we think about fwb!changbin? who’s just a liiittle bit 🤏 (spoiler: a lot) in love with you? and that perhaps gets jealous when he sees another guy flirting with you and has to fuck you asap to show you that nobody knows your body like he does? and maybe is only slightly possessive and has a breeding or a marking kink?

i’m sorry but i’m in a changbin brainrot and it shows… 🥺

i absolutely love your works and the way you write!!! 🖤

hi!!! welcome anonnie, you super surely can!! expecially because you seem to have such beautiful brain... 😔🫶 glad that you enjoy what I write, thank you 🩷✨️

we think that fwb!Changbin doesn't realize his feelings for you until he sees guys trying to take you away from him when you two hang out, before going to his place and have mind blowing sex -because you also like to spend time together-. can't they... see that you are with him? his arm around your shoulders as he pulls you closer, the drink you're sharing, his jacket knotted around your waist, who would even dare to lay eyes on you when you're literally glued to him? maybe it's obvious you don't have anything romantic going on?

he feels irritated anyway, dragging you out of the noisy club to pound your sweet, sweet cunt on the backseat of his car, hoping for those losers to have a glimpse of it all. you, being a sweet, sweet girl to Changbin, can never protest and let him do whatever he wants anyway. there's a reason you decided to make this deal with him of all people.

he denied it for such a long time, the boiling rage and disgust towards whoever tried to touch you, to talk to you while you are together, the itch in his hands and the instinct to just punch whoever lingers their gaze on you. he thought he was afraid of losing his perfect sex partner but oh boy if he was so superficially thinking, just to cover up his real feeling. it's not all about your pussy being shaped exactly for him to fit, there's so much more he himself struggles to process. until...

"ah, sorry Bin, I'm on a date with a guy I got to know the other day... maybe next time?"

Changbin... he's not angry, you're not together after all. he's a bit disappointed maybe. in the end, he knows no one can make you happy like he does, so the fact that you even try to go out with someone else... he doesn't like it. it's useless.

and, in fact, that same night you are at his door once again. you always come back to him. you meet a stoic Changbin who coldly gestures for you to come in, who signals for you to strip, and yes you feel so guilty for even thinking about another man so you just do as he says. all those stupid names disappear as soon as you are with him, as soon as you are bent in half at the end of his bed, "Changbin! Changbin!"

"who? who's making you feel this good, bunny? hm?" he's not arrogant, nor cocky, lifting you up with his muscled arm slightly trapping your head high enough for him to whisper in your ear. squelching sounds fill the room and it makes you so flustered, knowing that you already came who knows how many times but he doesn't show any sign of wanting to stop.

"c'mon, say it. who's the only one for you?" his thrusts are mouthwatering, rolling his hips so that they reach deep and are calculated to press on your g-spot, thick cock stretching you deliciously.

"C-Changbin..." you can only stutter, the hand placed on your hip squeezing you tighter, tigether, with the other one who reaches to wrap your neck delicately, keeping you in place to lick and nibble under your jawline. no coherent thought in your mind, just his name, the feel of his skin against yours, the fluttering in your belly increasing every second that passes.

"you can do better bunny,"

"Seo Changbin!"

"do you think someone else could fuck you as good as me?"

"n-no Binnie!"

and you're suddenly on your back, still at the edge of the bed as he towers over you, your legs wrapped around his sides. you're his to kiss and taste, a trail of purple-ish marks decorates your cleavage like a necklace. you're his, his, and his full name slips from your lips like a mantra between some "mine" he grunts while he picks up speed.

Changbin knows that it's not exacly right to want to possess someone, but he can't help it. he becomes greedy in front of beautiful things and you're pretty much his definition of 'beauty' and 'perfection'.

fwb!Changbin who usually pulls out or uses a condom but tonight fills you with his cum so many times it leaks whenever he slips out of your pretty little hole. fwb!Changbin who is certain you will never, ever leave him. fwb!Changbin who treasures you and makes sure to ruin you for others, to ask you to be his partner because, "bunny, you will never be able to stay with anyone else and you know it" but in reality he's the one who needs you so bad.

boyfriend!Changbin who gifts you an anklet with his initial. it can't be seen so easily but you and him know it's there... when your legs are up in the air he likes to hear it tingle and be reminded that you're his princess.

I want to write a whole ass fic about it now...

[sehtoast]

Hii! Id like a request!

Could you perhaps do a scenario where the reader gets stranded at an airport (Perhaps with panic attack)?

I'm experiencing this currently and thinking about Homelander is helping, Somehow

i'm so sorry you had to go through that anon ❤️ homie has an odd way of making life's woes suck a little less. apologies that this took as long as it did (and also i've never been in an airport before so idk if this is even the right vibe adfkljdfk), but i hope it's still enjoyable and i hope your airport adventure ended happily.

Oh, if you thought it couldn’t get worse, you were so wrong. 

Cancellations across the board, a raging snow storm outside, disgruntled people everywhere, and far too much noise for your overloaded senses.  This is what you get for flying out to go see a friend in the dead of winter.

It wasn’t like you could call an uber to the nearest hotel, either.  Pretty much nobody was going anywhere in this storm, and you’ve been here for hours now. God, you should’ve picked a morning flight, but you just haaaad to sleep in.

Eventually it started getting to you.

You’re alone, surrounded by angry people, in the middle of fuck knows where, with no guarantee of getting home or if your ticket is still going to be honored and–

You don’t even notice your breathing growing frantic until it’s overpowering and all you can do is hug your knees and try to stay calm–

You reach for your phone and send off a text to the one person who would maybe be awake at this hour.

God I’m fucking stuck here and I miss you and I don’t know what to do.

Your chest feels tight and your mouth is dry.  You hold your phone tight, cringing at the battery level.

7%.

You’d love to charge it, but the iPad parents are currently occupying every outlet in the area and if you hear one more child scream because they couldn’t watch their damn skibidi toilet videos–

It buzzes and you unlock it like a madman.

Told ya you should’ve flown air-Homelander.

You smile, warmth trickling in to fill your otherwise endless pit of anxiety.

It would’ve been too cold on my face :(  and you’d be carrying all my luggage.  Besides, I couldn't ask you to fly all this way.

The next response comes almost instantly.  Well, as instantly as it can with how slow he types.

Picky picky.  Where are you?

In the lounge-ish area.  On the floor, because I guess I picked the busiest airport in the world…

2%.  You’re almost ready to snag one of those outlets and suffer the blubbering.

Shucks, that’s a bummer.  

It’s not so–

You wince as your screen flickers, waves of sadness overtaking you in conjunction with that dreaded anxiety.  Gone is your only lifeline, and it hits you that you’ll have technically left him on read too.  You should’ve told him about your battery– fuck, fuck, fuck.

You hug your knees again and shove your useless earbuds in, hoping to dampen some of the noise.  It doesn’t work, and you can distinctly make out the sound of a man loudly demanding a full refund.

You try to imagine Homelander.  What tales would he have for you once you returned home?  How much trouble did he stir up while you were away?  Probably the usual, but… you were supposed to see him tomorrow morning when you got home.

God, that thought makes you ache for home even more.

You shut your eyes and attempt a nap.

You try and try to sleep to no avail.  Just when you think you might get a wink of rest, you hear audible gasps and shouting.  Your eyes shoot open, expecting the absolute worst, but all you see are two imposing sets of red boots.

“You forgot to text me back,” he says nonchalantly.  

Tears of joy bite at your eyes as you look up, and you all but launch yourself off the ground and into his arms.

“M’sorry,” you mumble against him.  “Battery died.”

“Mm, if you say so. I feel like this was all part of your elaborate plan to get me here.”  Homelander pulls away just slightly to look down at you, a twinkle of sympathy in his eyes- a very rare sight.  “Well, I know I can’t fly you home, because you’ll turn into a big popsicle, but… there is a hotel nearby and you do deserve a nice place to lay your head.”

Your heart feels so warm it could melt the blizzard outside.

“You just gotta tolerate a little cold.” He grins, winking at you.  “And air-Homelander doesn’t have delays.  No luggage fees either.”

You throw yourself back into the hug, squeezing him with all you’ve got.  

“You’re the best,” you whisper in his ear.

“Yeah, I know.”  He replies, uncaring of the spectacle you two must be.  “Now let’s get you cozy.”

[ghostchems]

Raphael teasing a naughty little mouse 🐭 (if you feel up to it!)

a/n: here we aaaare. a lil suggestive but nothing too spicy i think :) raphael is just... a stinker. but ya know what maybe mouse also is kinda stinky. so uhhhhh... about 700 words of stinky.

There’s not much stopping you from lunging across his desk and grabbing him by the chin to force him to look you in the eye — to finally give you the attention you’ve been so desperately craving. He hasn’t looked up at you once or acknowledged your presence in any way since you strolled into The Archive. Which is cruel in itself because of the big todo that was made to announce he was coming Home. The organs rang out through the House of Hope, the lights dimming in every single room and the debtors working themselves into a tizzy over it. And then he appeared without fanfare, sequestered in a nook to review paperwork from the looks of it.

Raphael has been gone for sometime and as one of his pets you haven’t been played with in a while. Most of his toys wait for him to come to them, but not you. You’re special to him. Or at least, you think you are. The two of you have a past that spans several world-ending threats, battles with a deranged cult and other side quests, some of which Raphael came to you himself to deliver. He always enjoyed the fire in your blood, the way you spoke your mind and didn’t give in so easily to him. Now, you’re enjoying your retirement with him in a twisted turn of events.

But you don’t mind. Your past lets you get away with things most of his pets don’t.

You find yourself sitting at one of his many organs, perfectly in view from his desk. Fingers tap on the fine, smooth wood, eyes fixed on him. Lips twitch into a sly smile before putting both forearms onto the keys.

BWWWAAAAAAAMMMMMM!!!!

Rage filled eyes fixate on you and you’re practically able to see the smoke coming from his ears. Makes you smile even wider.

“Here. Now.” His voice booms through the Archive, echoing from every corner. You obediently get up from the organ but take your time striding over to him. Raphael’s glares at you, eyes never leaving you and while you should be worried by his anger you can’t help but feel exhilarated. Finally — you have his attention.

“Took you long enough to — ah!” A strong hand grabs you by your waist and pulls you into his lap while his other hand snatches the back of your neck. You will never not be rendered speechless by his mere strength. Thumb presses just beneath your ear, his golden gaze staring into where you soul should be.

“Missed me, did you, pet?” Nimble fingers stroke your upper thigh, leaning in so his nose brushes along yours. “Business comes first. You should know this better than anyone.” Warm breath on your lips, Raphael’s voice no more than a deep rumble. You’re on fire for him and lean in to get a taste. He tilts his head back, just out of reach, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Come on, Raphael.” You whine and try to press in closer. He grumbles, fingers inching ever so close to your inner thigh but he stops short.

“Whine all you want, mouse. I have work to do.” One last smoldering glance before his attention turns back to the papers in front of him, removing his hands from you. No, no, this won’t do. The ache between your legs is unbearable now, cheeks flushed and eyes half-lidded. You need him badly, so much that your immediate action is to snatch him by the collar of his doublet and wrench those caramel eyes back to you.

An animalistic growl rips from his throat, his nose scrunching in annoyance. You blink and he has your hands pinned behind you back and his forehead pressed into yours, so hard that it makes your ears ring.

“Behave.” Sharp and angry against your ear, his fangs scratching the sensitive skin. “Perhaps I’ll be generous enough to offer you some relief.” Another nip and he leans back, expression back to cool and calm but you see the slight blush in his cheeks. You squirm in his grasp but it’s futile to try to break free… so you give a deep, defeated sigh as Raphael’s attention turns back to his work.

Still, you find yourself smiling. You are most certainly still special to him.

[oleworm]

Did anyone else get the impression that Lisa might have thought Randy was on drugs? He shows up at her workplace several years after they broke up, looking unkempt and wearing clothes that are too big for him and not his style. And there’s a weird older guy hanging around him that he looks more than a little scared of.

Her body language shows that she’s uncomfortable, but I don’t think it means that she’s mad at Randy or that she resents him for something that happened back when they were kids. When she asks him what’s going on and he starts talking about their breakup she looks surprised, like, seriously? Is that what it’s all about? She might have been upset at the time, but she’s moved on in a way that foreshadows the situation with Mrs Beard. Randy might have caused others pain, but their lives didn’t stop because of it. They were able to move on in a way that he didn’t permit himself to.

It’s clear to me that Lisa does care for Randy, or she wouldn’t act the way she does. She humours him and answers his questions, even though she doesn’t owe him anything. And really, imagine your ex from five years ago showing up at work. Would you be so nice? And later, after they’ve discussed their relationship, she’s serious when she expresses her concern. He doesn’t look like himself, and she doesn’t understand him—Benson, a constant and threatening presence in this scene, who intervenes as soon as he sees Randy and Lisa laughing.

Randy needs help. Though perhaps it isn’t the safest moment to mention it—she can tell that she’s in the middle of an awful thing, though not exactly what.

Lisa works with children. She would be sensitive to how people feel without them having to put it into words. She notices that he’s walking on eggshells around Benson. I imagine that she would assume that Randy was in an abusive situation, or that he was doing drugs with this guy. It happens often that a person who is abusing substances isolates themselves, and then for whatever reason starts hitting up people from their past. To reminisce, to ask about what went wrong, especially if they knew each other before things went bad. And here comes Randy out of nowhere, with a haunted look in his eyes. It’s funny that in an earlier scene Benson gives Randy the abusive boyfriend speech, “I don’t want to hurt you, but you forced me to”—I paraphrase—when, in the short time that we see them, he also isolates Randy, but in a manner that does not really fit the conventions of the hostage thriller but more of a realist relationship drama. He separates him from someone who could have been a friend, who after such a long time seems to be looking out for him. He tells Randy how bad Lisa is, and that he is too good for her. He wants to capture Randy’s attention—after all, it is his last day on earth, if consequences follow his actions—and he has dedicated it to “fixing” Randy. It’s interesting how his personal hangups get in the way of his stated intentions—wouldn’t Randy do better in life, if he knew there were people on his side? But Benson projects his past self onto Randy, and number one, it doesn’t seem that he ever got much support from anyone, and number two, as much as believes he wants to help—and I believe he fully does—it fills him with jealousy and rage to see that Randy has what he has not. Love, care, a chance to be.

[arc-misadventures]

A Solider, A Huntsman, And A Monster

They made a wide berth around me as I walked through the halls of, Atlas Academy. Many moved to the side to make way for my presence, others stopped in their walking to jump back in alarm as they saw my ghastly visage before them. I tended to create, although involuntarily, stirs around people who haven’t seen me.

Although, many offered me a kind, and polite nod of the head in acknowledgment as they saw me walk by. These were mostly the rank, and file soldiers you would find strewn about the academy. Be they enlisted, or officers, my actions in the defence of, Atlas, and Mantle had earned me their respect, and mine in turn.

But, peoples fear of me would have to wait, General Ironwood wanted to speak with me, and I for one wasn’t planning to keep him waiting, especially since his summons seemed rather urgent. A notion that filled my broken soul with unease.

When I reached the doors leading to, General Ironwood’s office I softly knocked on the door, and entered. Well, what what I thought was a soft knock made a sound more akin to a hammer pounding warped steel. I looked down at my right hand, inspecting the white bone plate upon it, as I entered the generals office.

Jaune: My apologies… I thought that was knocking softly… evidently not.

Ironwood: It is quite alright, Mr. Arc. Please do come in.

As I entered his office I saw several other individuals in the room. Specialist Winter Schnee, Specialist Ebi Clover, several of Atlas’s council members, including its latest addition, Robyn Hill. My gaze lingered upon her longer than others, but it was soon put to an ease as she walked over, and held out her hand.

Robyn: It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Arc. How are you feeling?

I took her hand in mine, and simply replied:

Jaune: I’m doing fine.

There was genuine concern within her voice. Robyn, and I had created an ammoniacal relationship between the two of us. I found her presence calming, and her smile comforting, but more importantly I could use her semblance to gauge my mind’s true feelings. And, based upon the red grow that emanated from our hands. Well, there was much lies to be told.

Robyn: You’re lying, Jaune.

Jaune: To myself, or you? That’s the real question…

Robyn gave me a sad smile as she pulled away, patting my arm as she turned to stand beside her colleagues.

I thought my night with, Willow would have lifted my mood. But, seemingly only on the surface it had been lifted. But, now wasn’t the time for mopping about, or swallowing myself up in rage. I was summoned here for a reason after all. What that was, was the question.

Jaune: So, you wanted to speak with me, General Ironwood? May I assume this is about my work schedule, and teaching documents that I will need? Or, perhaps some individuals have voiced their objections to me becoming a teacher at, Atlas Academy because of various… circumstances.

I cast a cautionary glance to my left, I gazed upon the gaggle of council members currently present. I couldn’t blame them if they objected to my appointment as a teacher, I was a for the better part, a Valian after all, and not an, Atlasian. Many would find pause in that alone. Taking into consideration me being a Grimm/human hybrid, well, I’m still surprised I’m not locked up in another lab getter poked, and proded, again.

James saw through my not so subtle pointed questions, and smiled softly at that, and he shook his head dismissively.

Ironwood: No, no nothing of the sort. This is about something else all entirely.

Jaune: And, that would be?

Ironwood: I, General James Ironwood would like to, on the behave of, Kingdom of Atlas, and Mantle, would like you to offer you a military commission.

The eyebrow over my left eye rose as I looked at him skeptically.

Jaune: You want to buy my services as a mercenary? But, I’m already a Huntsman working for, Atlas Academy. Aren’t I already a mercenary under a contract?

General Ironwood, and the Specialists all looked at me wide eyed for a moment before bursting our in a small fit of laughter. Even, councilwoman, Robyn Hill chuckled at my expense.

Ironwood: Hahaaa… No, Mr. Arc, what I’m saying is that I want to offer you a position as an officer in the, Atlas Military. The process of doing so is called, ‘a military commission.’

My head nodded in understanding at the terminology, but I was nonetheless confused.

Jaune: I understand, but why are you doing this? Don’t I need to serve in the, Atlas Military for a while to become an officer?

Ironwood: Normally yes, however, Hunter’s, such as the, Specialists have, Huntsman level of training, and are a part of the, Atlas Military. This exemption to the rules also applies to you as well, since you were gifted you, Huntsmen license from, Atlas Academy. And, as for why we’re offering you a commission, well there are several reasons.

I could see an almost nervous sense of unease fill the room. I looked towards, Winter, and caught her gazing at me, her eyes quickly darted away from me. I did the same to other members of the, Specialists, and they gave the same distant look, but, Robyn kept her eyes locked with mine unlike the rest. Interesting.

I tore my vision away from, Robyn to look back at, Ironwood, and ask the question he wanted me to ask.

Jaune: And, those reasons would do doubt have to do with, Salem’s attack upon, Mantle, and Atlas, no?

Ironwood: You are correct. We lost a lot of people that day… Mostly soldiers who sacrificed their lives in the defence of, Atlas, and Mantle people. And, while we lost many of the common rank, and file soldiers, we have lost far more officers than we can allow.

I looked at him with a mild sense of confusion, his words didn’t add up. I knew the body count of that day, I knew how many soldiers died, I knew who were the grunts, and who were the officers among that number. I knew how many civilians they saved that day was, and I knew how many they couldn’t save that day. I knew all too well, and I could never forget.

Jaune: Unless I am mistaken the total casualty numbers for the day people have dubbed, ‘The Siege of Atlas,’ was around three hundred, and thirty eight, Of that number, one hundred, and seven were civilians, leaving that count being that there were two hundred, and thirty one casualties sustained by military personnel. Now, not counting the casualties sustained by the, Atlasian Knights, which I believe is around, three hundred, and ninety two. That number of, two hundred, and thirty one only, forty one of them were officers. Now, if we are not counting the nine, Paladin pilots who also lost their lives among that count. Since I assume you are counting officers that were in positions of command, and any soldier who is, ‘Fitted for their suit,’ as the slang goes is gifted the rank of lieutenant upon graduation. So that would leave approximately, thirty two officers who lost their lives in the line of duty. Now I mean to speak no ill of the dead, but is that not considered, ‘An acceptable casualty rating?’

My words may have been as simple as reading a causality report, but the shocked looks I received from those present was odd. It seems like they didn’t expect me to know the exact casualty rates we experienced that day, and based upon how, Ironwood was over looking a series of documents in front of him he couldn’t believe it either.

Ironwood: You are correct, those were indeed the casualty numbers we received that day. And, the number of three hundred, and thirty eight fatalities among the enlisted personnel, the officer core, and civilians is indeed, ‘an acceptable causalty rating.’

: An acceptable casualty rating?!

I looked of to one of the council members, a lady whose name was, Mrs. Alicia Ophilia. She seethed in a cold, and silent rage as she started us down at our seemingly disconcert regards towards the glorious dead.

Alicia: I for one do not consider over three hundred dead civilians, and military personnel as an acceptable casualty rating! How can you be so callous, and emotionless towards such a substantial lose of life?!

Myself, Ironwood, the Specialist, and even, Councillor Hill understood fully well the reason behind her rage. Which made the cold, grim logic behind, Winter’s following words all the more damning on an already weery soul.

Winter: If I may, Mrs. Ophilia. The term: ‘Acceptable casualty rating,’ is an euphemism used by the military, and huntsmen alike to address casualties, or destruction inflicted by an enemy force that is considered minor, or tolerable.

Alicia: Tolerable?

Robyn: Please put it into perspective, Alicia; we lost over three hundred people during the attack, and out of two cities whose total population nears ten thousand, which would you prefer; one thousand dead, or three hundred dead?

Mrs. Ophilia looked at the group of soldiers, and Huntsmen before her, and as she processed the words spoken to her, and gave a heavy sigh as she relented.

Alicia: I concede. You are right: Theee hundred dead is a more… acceptable number… than one thousand dead.

Jaune: While I agree with you, Mrs Ophilia, that one death is one too many, I was actually referring to the casualty rating among the officers, not the total amount of dead. Wouldn’t losing thirty two officers be acceptable, surely there is more than enough soldiers to fill in the holes they departure has created.

Ironwood: That is the case, and those officers positions have been refilled by newly promoted soldiers. I’m afraid to say we lost more than thirty two officers.

Jaune: What? How?!

Shock roared through my voice causing others to jump back from me, I could see, Harriet from the corner of my eye adopting a combative stance. Their shock was understandable, but they mistook my cry of alarm for one of rage. An understandable reaction at the end of the day; I sound like a monster as much as I now look like one.

Jaune: My apologizes. My voice betrays my mood. I am not angry, but shocked that we lost so many officers. But, how did this happen, did we have a sudden, Grimm attack, or something?

Ironwood: We didn’t lose any more officers to the, Grimm after that. We did lose an additional forty seven officers, most of whom were dishonourably discharged afterwards though.

Jaune: Dishonourably discharged?

The confusion laced within my voice was just as loudly heard as the silent rage that echoed from the, Generals.

Ironwood: Yes, you are aware of what a, ‘bought officer,’ is?

Jaune: A corrupt officer?

Ironwood: No… Well it wouldn’t surprise me a few if a few of those officers weren’t taking money on the side to look the other way. But, no, a ‘bought officer’ is a slang for officers who purchase their rank with lien, not years of dedication to, Atlas, and its people.

Jaune: You have such officers in your ranks? That doesn’t seem like something you would allow.

Ironwood: And, I wouldn’t have. But, a contract made by the founders over a hundred years ago said we had too, and it would have taken just under another hundred years ago for it to expire. Luckily, taking in the results recent attack in mind, I was given the ability to remove such a contract, and the filth it brought with it from our ranks.

Jaune: And, the individual reason these officers were removed?

Ironwood: General cowardice: abandoning their post, leaving their men behind, trying to steal military craft to flee, Atlas. Simple things such as that.

Jaune: Ahh, well that certainly explains things…

I could remember seeing individuals fleeing from the frontlines at the beginning of the battle, all wearing officer’s uniforms now that I think about it. I couldn’t pay too much mind to it though, there were too many pressing matters to attend to at the time.

Jaune: And, you want to offer me an officers commission to fill in one of these missing positions?

Ironwood: Yes. You would still be a teacher at the academy, you would just also have an officers rank, and be expected, if the need arise to, to lead troops upon the battlefield.

Jaune: Just like what I did during, Salem’s attack?

Ironwood: Correct.

He wanted me to be an officer. An officer in the, Atlas Military. It sounded like in the end I would just have a change of clothes, and some pretty bobbles on my uniform. But, I looked down to my right hand, and thought hard about his offer. The white bone plate that covered my hand, and the pale skin that rested below it. I wasn’t human anymore, would these soldiers follow my orders into battle? During the, Seige it was different; There were no officers, just soldiers fighting for their lives. I gave them orders, and commanded them to obey my commands, saving thousands in the process. But, that was in the midst of a battle, the largest, and most deadly battle, Atlas had ever experienced. Would these soldiers be willing to follow my orders, the orders of a monster during a time of relative peace?

Ironwood: They recommend you.

Jaune: Excuse me?

I was ripped from my musing at the, Generals words. I was recommended for this position; By who, and why?

Ironwood: Several of the soldiers you fought along side that day were also promoted, and made officers to fill in the ranks. Now we have competent, and skilled officers in our ranks. But, while these officers were being promoted, they often asked the same question: Is the, Hero of Mantle, Jaune Arc joining us?

Jaune: H-Hero of Mantle? Are people calling me that?

Robyn: Its the name the people have given you for your heroic acts for saving them that day.

Jaune: Hero…?

Robyn: Jaune…

I looked up to see that, Robyn was holding my left hand in a comforting grip as she softly smiled at me.

Robyn: Regardless of what you think, people don’t see you as a monster.

Jaune: They don’t?

Robyn: No. People see as a victim of the horrendous acts of a true monster. They see you as a man who risked his life to save them. You are a hero to them, Jaune. You are not the monster you believe yourself to be. You are, Jaune Arc, the Saviour of Mantle.

I couldn’t help, but snort at her words.

Jaune: ‘The Saviour of Mantle.’ Sounds a little much now doesn’t it?

Robyn: Well, it’s shows you how the people truly see you as.

Jaune: But, I’m just a huntsman doing my duty. There’s nothing more to it than that. I

Robyn: But, don’t you like being called a hero?

Jaune: No, not really.

Robyn: You sure about that?

I looked at her skeptically before staring down at my hand enveloped in a red glow. I looked back to, Robyn’s cheeky smile as I swatted her hands away.

Jaune: Stop doing that!

Robyn: Not going to happen.

Jaune: Damn…

Ironwood: So, Mr. Arc, what do you say?

I turned away from, Robyn to address, General Ironwood. I straightened my back, and stood tall before everyone with my hands held firmly behind my back.

Jaune: If, if I accept this offer I would like to make one request.

He quirked, and eyebrow at me, as he straightened his back in turn to address me.

Ironwood: And, that would be?

Jaune: A custom uniform that would fit me properly, and new armour as well. My bodies… alterations have made my armour rather cumbersome to wear.

Ironwood smiled as he took in my simple request.

Ironwood: I think we can do that. Anything else?

Jaune: No that is all. In any case, I humbly accept my commission to… uhh… what rank will I be receiving… Sir?

Ironwood: You can save the ‘sirs’ until after your commission. As for your rank; taking into consideration the deeds you’ve accomplished in the service of, Atlas, and Mantle. We have agreed on giving you the rank of, Colonel.

Jaune: Does this mean I will outrank the, Specialists?

Ironwood: As a matter in fact, you will indeed outrank the, Specialists.

Jaune: Oh good… Now, Marrow can be the one getting me coffee instead… Heheheee…

Everyone seemingly flinched as I chuckled to myself. If, Marrow’s face was saying if he had a pair of ears instead of a tail, they would have dropped in fear.

Jaune: …

Jaune: That did not sound like I was making a teasing remark in the slightest did it?

The resounding choir of nos soon swiftly answered my question.

Jaune: Great, not only did he turn me into a monster, but he took away my ability to make a joke… Godsdamn bastard…

Everyone seemed to find something else to look at, all seemingly not wanting to comment on my feelings towards that particular monster. Like there was anything else to comment on it anyway.

Ironwood: Ahem. The award ceremony where you will be granted your new rank will take place in a week from today. I recommend you get fitted soon, so they can make your new uniform soon.

Jaune: I understand, will that be all?

Ironwood: That’s everything. I look forward to working with, Mr. Arc.

Jaune: Likewise, General.

We grasped one another’s hands in a firm handshake, before others came along, and also gave me congratulatory hand shakes as well. The Specialists were open, and receptive to my commission, while Marrow did look nervous as I teasingly smiled at him. Though I doubt it was very teasing, a smile filled with fangs no doubt always looked threatening.

The council members gave me celebratory handshakes as well, they were pleased with my appointment to become a colonel. No doubt for some political bullshit they were planning to use me in.

But, then there was, Robyn.

Robyn: So, Jaune, how does it feel to become an officer in the, Atlas Military?

Jaune: Ask me again when I’ve dawn on the uniform.

Robyn: I’ll have to remember to do that. I’m glad you accepted the offer, the other two council members are actually opposed to your appointment. You no doubt understand why.

I looked towards the other councillors as they addressed, General Ironwood. No doubt talking about future plans, and meetings they must attend to. However, as I looked upon the three of them a thought crossed my mind.

Jaune: Wait… Two votes for, and two votes against? You were the deciding vote.

Robyn: I was, and I voted: For.

Jaune: Why? You don’t trust, General Ironwood, and the military, why would you agree to have me instated in the military?

Robyn: Because I trust you, Jaune. I trust that with your calm head, you will be able to keep the others in check. That with your help we can lead, Mantle into a brighter future for the good of everyone.

Jaune: A brighter future lead by a, Grimm/human hybrid? I find that hard to believe. No, Robyn you are the Bannerman, the one leading others to a brighter tomorrow with hope as your forge a better future. I however, will be the sword that protects that future. I am more suited for that role. Soldiers can easily follow a monster into a war, but not in peace.

Robyn: Jaune, just because you look like a monster doesn’t mean you are a monster.

My head fell as I shook my head. Blind optimism fuelled by hope, I never thought I would miss someone talking like that. At least, Robyn has a realistic head on her shoulders. But, still blind optimism will never help me.

Jaune: We’re all monsters, Robyn. We may not look like ones since we’ve all been well groomed, are well dressed, and given etiquette lessons. Some monsters wear the skin of monsters, others wear the skin of humans. But, it doesn’t matter, because at the end of the day we’re all just monsters, now we’re just well dressed monsters.

Robyn: Well dressed monsters…

Robyn looked away from me as she pondered my words before she shook it away before looking back at me with this mad glint in her eyes.

Robyn: Jaune, are you busy this afternoon?

Jaune: I was going to grab my teaching manifest, and study what I need to be teaching the students. Why do you ask?

Robyn: Class doesn’t start for two weeks, you can put that off until tomorrow. Come with me, there’s a victory celebration being held in, Mantle.

Jaune: A victory celebration? But, the Siege was over a month ago, why are you having one now?

Robyn: The Siege turned everyone’s lives upside down, people needed time to rebuild, to morn those they lost. The people of, Mantle need to let loose, and relax. To let the burdens of, The Siege fade away, so we can all move on from it. So, we’re going to have a massive party to do so. So, would you like to come?

Her logic made sound sense, but I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, I would probably cause a small panic, being a monster, and all. But, the people of, Mantle do call me, ‘The Hero of Mantle,’ so maybe they might actually enjoy me being there. But, I had to ask something very important before I offer her any answer.

Jaune: Will I have to give a speech?

Robyn: No I don’t think you would will have to.

Jaune: I’ll hold you to that.

Robyn: So you’ll come?

Jaune: I will, but don’t expect me to dance.

Robyn: We’ll see about that. Come on, Jaune we have a party to go to.

I hope this will be fun event. a chance to unwind, and relax, just as, Robyn said. But, honestly I just hope this wouldn’t be an event that I would come to regret.

I can at least hope for that right.

Right?

[phantom-playdough]

Red Son x GN!Reader: Happy Birthday!

My 20th birthday has passed and I wanted to celebrate with a fanfic. I promise I will work on the small list of requests I have piling up, but this red baby needed a fanfic. I guess this is my [very late] birthday gift…?

IF THERE ARE ANY PRONOUNS THAT ARE NOT GN FOR READER, LET ME KNOW AND I WILL FIX IT ASAP.

Red Son was sat at her desk with about a dozen crumbled up and/or torn up pieces of paper that were filled with scribbles flooding every surface around her.

She was trying to prepare for her significant other's birthday. However, the task of coming up with something to give Y/n was proving to be more difficult than Red Son accounted for.

After around two hours, Red Son decided to take a small nap...okay that's a lie. What actually happened is that Red Son passed out on her desk mid-scribble on her papers.

~~~~

"Red Son?" She just about shot up fin her seat, at first thinking that it was Y/n beside her. However, it luckily just appeared to be her father, DBK.

"F-father!? What are you doing in here? I-it's still early in the morning!" Red Son said, clearly confused as her father was FAR from a morning person.

At this, The Demon Bull King blinked once or twice. He clearly was confused as well. "Red Son, I came down here to tell you that it was time for dinner."

...

Silence for a beat or two.

After a moment or two of quiet, Red Son groaned loudly and face-planted onto her desk.

DBK felt a sweat drop, feeling around ten times more concerned for his hot-headed child.

"Nothing is GOOD ENOUGH!!" Red Son yelled, her hair igniting into flames.

Not sure of what to do, DBK patted Red Son's shoulder gently. "Uh, there there...?" He said, uncertainty leaking from every syllable.

Despite the crappy way to try and comfort someone, Red Son somehow felt it start to help as she slowly relaxed. This could be guessed because her flaming hair calmed itself, as well as how she peeled her face off of the table and her expression was just glum instead of full of rage, like before.

"Red Son, what is troubling you?" DBK asked, the effort he was making was strong and commendable despite how poorly it could be seen as.

Red Son sighed lightly. "Y/n's birthday is coming up in four days and I...I just CAN'T think of what a good gift for them could be! I swear this is more impossible than scheming to taking over the city!!"

DBK could empathize. "Well, Red Son, maybe you should stop trying to figure it out on your own and ask your mother for help. Or perhaps you could ask the noodle-boy and dragon-girl for advice." DBK chuckled. "I am afraid I will not be able to help much, though."

"Huh, why not?"

"I once gave your mother asparagus for our anniversary. I...am not sure I could help you if I wanted to." DBK explained, a little embarrassed at having to admit a blunder like that to Red Son. DBK patted her shoulder again.

"But, whatever you decide to give Y/n, make sure you put your heart into it." DBK then turned and left, leaving Red Son with her thoughts.

"Put your heart into it..." Red Son mumbled. She wrote those words down before deciding to ask around.

~~~~

Well, Red Son had asked everyone, and I mean EVERYONE she knew, about what to get Y/n. Some of the advice was good. Macaque mentioned to get them something that will always make them think of Red Son. Tang and Ne zha both said to get them something personal, but useful.

Some of the other advice Red Son received was not as constructive. Like, how Wukong had suggested a gift that would not and SHOULD not be said in front of a room full of children. MK and Mei were really random with their gift ideas, but almost everyone said something similar at the end of the day:

"Put your heart into it."

These words swirled around in Red Son's fiery head so much it felt like the world was spinning.

But finally, it was time.

Y/n was seated across from Red Son, enjoying a small dinner at their apartment that Red Son INSISTED on cooking.

"Um, Y/n, I-I have your gift." Red Son said, pulling on her collar nervously. "C-could you close your eyes for me, dear?"

Confused, but compliant, Y/n agreed and did as told. Red Son fumbled with getting the box out of her inner coat pocket, but got it out without tearing up the wrapping paper, luckily.

"Alright, open them."

Y/n did just that and was greeted with a bright red wrapped box. The bow of the box was a vibrant (Favorite color), the bow shining in the light. It was almost a shame to rip the wrapping off, but it needed to be done.

Y/n began to tear off the wrapping, revealing a box (red of course) that was velvety. With a confused glance at Red Son, Y/n opened the lid of the box and gasped as they saw a picture frame. It was a picture frame in the shape of a big heart, a small slideshow of photos Y/n and Red Son took together playing on a loop within the frame.

"I-I wasn't sure about what exactly to get you, but I just thought that I could...put my heart into it?" Red Son began to trail off as he saw Y/n was starting to tear up. "Y-Y/n? What's wrong? Is it not right? I-I just--!" Y/n cut Red Son off and launched themself into her arms.

"It's perfect. You're perfect, Red Son. I love it. I-I-I love you. Thank you." Y/n said softly as they fought back the tears. Red Son had to fight the sudden surge of emotion as the love of her life held onto her for dear life.

Red Son smiled and placed the picture frame on the coffee table next to the pair. The two of them then spent the longest time looking at the photos slide onto the frame, enjoying the memories and the moment with each other.

The End~~~!

[unityrain24]

anyways was thinking of a thor ragnarok rewrite last night as sleep refused to take me. obviously it can't be exactly like actual ragnarok bc marvel/mcu's norse stuff is..nothing like actual norse lore but i figured it could still have some more similarities than what the actual movie did.

(also if i were to rewrite the movie this isn't actually what id do, this was just. idk. what i was thinkin about as i was desperate to actually falll asleep).

anyways i figured this rewrite would actually work best if it rewrote the end of tdw first- loki gets stabbed by kruse and passes out for a while (rather than being able to pick himself back up in secret like what actually happened) and in that time odin senses that loki isn't dead and sends some guards to collect him. since loki technically broke the law *again* (committed treason, escaped jail, etc), he can enforce even more punishment, especially now that frigga is dead and she can't do anything about it. That, combined with some prophecy from midgard (or maybe asgard, idk) as an excuse added justifying reason, he sentences loki to the worst thing he can think up: to be bound against a rock with a snake dripping venom on him, his lips sewn shut so he can never lie again, forced to be in his jotun form, for all of eternity. In the deepest dungeon.

Thor obviously doesn't know about any of this, because he thinks loki dead.

so loki is taken, bound to a rock (idk if it's really work to have him bound with organs tho, since he doesn't have children in the mcu. maybe it's his..pet's? or maybe just chain. idk.), a snake coiled above him, seiðr bound, lips sewn shut, and his æsir form taken. He is completely alone, save the guards outside the chamber.

i don't really ship logyn in the mcu, (bc she doesn't exist in the mcu and their relationship feels to me like it would span for several centuries prior, so just randomly introducing her in one movie would seem strange to me), but i follow some people who do, so i wondered how i could incorporate that anyways, and make it not seem too strange.

Sigyn is one of the guards who has a shift guarding loki's chambers. She feels awful about it though, and eventually decides she has to do something to help. She ventures into the chamber and decides to catch the dripping venom with her helmet.

She also tries to cut the stitches from lokis lips, but when one string is cut, it doubles and repierces the skin, now twice the strength. She tries again, cutting them all at once this time (rather than individually), and grabs them all at once and pulls them out before they can multiply and repair themselves (luckily this time it works). She almost regrets it, though, as now she has to hear loki scream himself hoarse, and she can't do anything else to ease the pain.

she stays for several weeks/months/idk, holding the helmet above loki, having to empty it every so often. Perhaps she gets to know loki in this time, perhaps she doesn't. Perhaps she notices a certain brand on his shoulder, perhaps she does not. Perhaps she knew loki vaguely before, and now muses to herself what could have possibly changed him. Perhaps she didn't know him before, and doesn't muse. I don't know. But eventually she decides she needs to find and tell thor.

as hard as it is, she leaves loki to suffer alone (she tries to see if she can leave the helmet or fashion some contraption to make sure the poison cannot get in his eyes, but she cannot). After some searching and asking, she finds the mourning sullen prince thor and tells him what has occurred. Thor, now filled with joy, rage, guilt, horror, and sadness, breaks loki out with sigyn.

Loki is a mess. He has gone blind- whether temporarily or permanently is unknown- and has visible burns from the acid venom. His hairs a mess and his skin sweaty and thin. You can see his rib cage with how thin he's become. He wasn't allowed much clothes at the start of his punishment, but what few he had have been burned by the venom as well. He can't walk. He's barely conscious, and what little bit he is is just filled with delirium. They basically have to carry him.

They hide away from asgard (or at least the palace). And then ragnarok gets unleashed and they have to fix it etc and in the end they realize that it wasn't literally loki's being freed that incited ragnarok, but it was necessary for him to be freed so they could help stop/fix it/lessen the damage etc idk i was pretty tired at this point i wasn't thinking of details. anyways

idk if that made any sense lol but i'll tag the logyn people i follow/was thinking of

@therese-lokidottir @jonquilclegane @cosmic0artist

[sweatytimetravelearthquake]

Your bully has a soft spot for you

The relationship between you and Haitani has always been a bit complicated. On the one hand, he's a bully, always teasing and making fun of you in front of friends. On the other hand, he seems to have a slight weakness for you and always secretly helps when you're in trouble. And you tried to ignore his behavior, but part of you can't help but wonder, "is there more to this?" But you didn't have much time for such questions. You were sitting in class not thinking about the guy, but thinking about not getting a grade below four, because your family was very strict about grades. Okay, physical violence, you get used to it, but it's not possible to get used to moral pressure, it will become a lifelong trauma.

"What are you thinking about, nerd? Me, perhaps?" — He teased you by taking your glasses, which made it difficult for you to see. Your thoughts weren't the brightest. I was just afraid to go home, knowing what I could get for today's top three. And at first you were a little scared when the glasses were taken away and moved forward to pick them up, frowning your gray eyes.

"Ran, please give it back..." — He grinned, handing back your glasses. Then he came up to your ear and whispered something.

"What are you worried about? I'm sure you passed the test well. You never cease to amaze. You don't have to be so hard on yourself," — he ruffled your hair and smiled.

"I only got C... my mother and father will be unhappy."

"Are your parents strict about grades?" — Haitani's expression was surprised and worried for you. He looked around to see if anyone was watching and pulled you towards him. — "Don't worry about it. I think your parents will understand that you just didn't quite understand the topic, and it's not your fault," — he patted you on the back to calm you down and smiled warmly. You looked down, flinching a little.

Ran noticed that your body was shaking and your eyes were filled with sadness when you turned away. You knew that nothing good would come of it, your parents were going to scold you for getting a grade below four. You knew that as soon as you got the results sheet. My throat was dry from stress at that moment, my hands gave up the paper and I had to put a lot of effort into not crying right in class. He put both hands on your shoulder and stared into your gray eyes.

"Hey, listen to me, okay? Don't worry about it too much," — Ran looked at you with a serious smile, showing his true feelings for you, protecting you.

"They'll hit me again..." — Ran took you by both hands, looking into your eyes.

"I promise you, I won't let that happen. I always protect the people I care about," — he ran his fingers through your coffee hair and soothed you in a gentle tone. — "I don't understand why they have to be so strict with you, I think they really overreact to the test... it's not the end of the world if you get a grade below three," — he tried to laugh off his worries, trying to comfort you.

"Do you care about me?.." — I got caught up in his words alone. Haitani was surprised by your sudden question, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. Even if you couldn't see his face, you could feel his smirk.

"Maybe I have some feelings for you," — Ran looked at you with a sly smile, then hugged you tightly to his chest. He hugged you even tighter, his strong arms wrapped around your waist. He held you close and whispered in your ear, his voice sounding hoarse as he spoke. — "I love you.." — He couldn't hold back his true feelings any longer and decided to confess his love to you. — "Will you let me see that test? Maybe I can help with the mistakes?" — He picked up your work and began to look through it carefully, and then his eyes lit up with rage. — "This sheep forgot to count your points for the second part. Don't worry, we'll figure it out now, and you'll have a beautiful D."

______________________________________

A must-read!!!

hey, guys! I know that sometimes various translation jobs can be taken from Tumblr. My native language is not English, I forbid you to take your work for translation, as I already post sketches in my native language.

[abysskeeper]

Bronch day sucks. Too busy to actually write this week. But! I've been sitting on this for a while and after rereading it last night...yeah, I'm still pleased with this.

So, WIP time (apt for Wednesday). I love me some wizard angst fights. Who knows, one day I may even complete this.

******

They were hurtling towards the final confrontation still somewhat in the dark, and he was hurtling towards his judgment. It was…a necessity—divinely tasked. He couldn’t see a way out of it now, and the way she continued to refuse the truth hurt. It hurt him to know there was someone like her still keeping faith in him, and it hurt him to watch her work herself into a frenzy trying to save him.

He wasn’t worth it. It was not what he wanted, but Gale Dekarios had made his mistakes and knew his path towards penance. It was a path he could take, so long as he had her at his side until the end.

“Is that so wrong?!” he demanded. “If we are correct in our theories based on what we read in Thorm’s room, this is an elder brain controlled by the Dead Three. That alone is already magnificently worse than when we believed this was simply an illithid invasion!”

“And I do not agree the sacrifice is worth it before we are even certain of what we are dealing with,” she refuted, throwing up a hand in exasperation. “I am not relying on your death to solve all our problems before we are even fully sure of what they are!”

“We have a very simple solution to it before this whole plot grows even more out of hand! One life for the Sword Coast, that hardly seems like a sacrifice.” It wasn’t a sacrifice at all. It was the only thing he was meant to do from the moment the Orb fused into his chest, he had to believe that. He had to. “One life to prevent a future you have already seen and know can come to pass—”

“A future that is one of several possible outcomes!” Nox corrected on a cry. She glared up at him, anger glinting in the few tears pricking her violet eyes. “You might be so cavalier with your life, Gale, but I am not,” she hissed at him. And despite his anger, despite his annoyance—at her, at the situation, at what he was charged to do—his heart stuttered with her admittance. “I don’t want you do die. None of us want you to die.”

“Alright…” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a step away from her. He needed a moment to disengage before he said something he didn’t mean—or, perhaps, said something he meant all too much. “Disregarding the several issues that exist with you making that decision for me, and there are several—” He glared at her to get his point across. She narrowed her eyes at him in return. “—Did you not think that I would want to be down there, regardless?”

Nox’s jaw clenched and her nostrils flared with the release of a breath. “And did you not think that the rest of us would take necessary measures to prevent you from killing yours—”

“This isn’t about that!” Gale shouted. It was an outburst of tangled emotions, rage and fear and an overwhelming sadness, but he felt it cooling in the few seconds her shocked expression stared back at him. “Do not cast me from your side, Nox’ani,” he said, the desperation pumping in his heart bleeding into his voice. “I have had more than my fill of that in my life already.”

She stilled in front of him, momentarily stunned at his admittance. He watched her composure fall, the same fear and desperation flowing in his veins mirrored in her eyes. Then it was gone, schooled behind a mask of cold, metallic resolve. She sincerely believed she was doing him a favor. He did not know how else to convey this was anything but.

“This is hardly the same,” Nox bit back, harsh. Her arms crossed over her chest once more.

“Isn’t it?” Gale demanded, mimicking her stance and rocking back on his feet. Was it better to show his anger or his despair? He didn’t know, but he was bordering on both. “Because it certainly feels the same.”

“No! No, it isn’t at all! Don’t you dare compare me to her,” she ground out. “One was over a grandiose mistake you should have known better than to make, and one is over whether or not you deserve the right to live because of that mistake!”

“And that is ultimately my decision to make in the end,” he pointed out, voice rough from holding back tears.

“It is,” she agreed dangerously low. Her hand clutched at her staff, still stuck in the ground. “But I find it difficult to believe you are acting of your own accord.”

Gale swallowed, struck nervous by the puzzle in her words. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you truly want to die?” Nox asked quietly. “Do you truly want to sacrifice your life to save the world? Do you truly believe this is the only way? Or is it your own gods’ damned ego being stroked by a Goddess to court her own means in the end?”

He momentarily forgot how to breathe, indignation flaring in his veins to temporarily burn away everything else. “You…you think it is pride that is driving me to blow myself up to the Heavens?!” he asked, incredulous. “You believe my ego is so easily inflated I would consider killing myself over some pretty words and half-baked promises? This is Mystra! This is eternal salvation!”

“I don’t know what else it could be!” she shot back. Nox growled out a string of curses in Elvish under her breath and ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Of course you are the only one who could solve this problem, right?” she demanded, glare snapping up to meet his eyes. “Only you can fix it and bring an end to the Absolute? Only you have the capabilities, never mind everyone else and what we can do. Never mind none of us want to watch you die for a threat we could handle!”

“Nox…”

Some of his anger chilled the longer she shouted at him, ironically enough. He could practically see the desperation rising in her throat, her arms flailing like a signal for him to understand what she was saying. For him to understand what she was truly saying beneath the surface. And he wanted to—he so dearly desired to—but it still didn’t change the truth sitting before them. “My Goddess asked this of me—”

“Your Goddess forsook you!” Nox reminded him with an exasperated shout. “And now she demands penance in the form of your life for a mistake she refused—still refuses—to explain! How is that right? How is that demand worthy of consideration?!”

Gale remained silent, taking a moment to truly examine her. Heavy bags rested under tired, pleading eyes while she panted with exertion and frantic appeal for him to see her version of sense. For all he probably should have, he couldn’t prevent the fondness welling in his heart at watching her argue with him for his life. It was charming, heartwarming…and very reminiscent of a life he once knew. The words were out of his mouth before he consciously thought on them, “…for someone who so often speaks of hubris, you have little self-reflection.”

She recoiled like she had been zapped. “And what, exactly, do you mean by that?”

He shouldn’t have spoken a word. “This is Mystra,” he answered softly, honestly. That was all he could do. “You are asking me to consider you and your words above the command of the Goddess of Magic.”

He intended it as a compliment. It was a compliment, in his eyes. It took some gall—it took some care and some heart for someone to demand something of that nature. It was still the wrong thing to say. Gale watched the deep wound cleave through her eyes, her jaw falling open in shock and unfettered pain. Just as quickly, she snapped her mouth shut and turned away from him. He still noticed how she tugged at the collar of her robe and how her hand remained, clenching the fabric and trembling slightly.

A grave error, indeed. “…Nox—”

“You’re right,” she said, voice chillingly quiet, “I do speak on hubris often. But do not misconstrue what I am asking here. I am no better than Mystra. I am far, far below the Goddess…on all counts, I see now, but I am still asking you to consider what I am saying. As a friend and…as one who knows hubris.”

Nox breathed deep and the mask slipped over her with her exhale, a glossy veneer as cool as the ice she wielded. Elegant, beautiful, fragile. “I speak on pride because I know what it is, Gale. I speak not on mine because I have already had it trampled.” Her hand slipped from her staff, defeated, and she rocked between her heels and the balls of her feet. “My pride was believing I could ever step into my mother’s shoes and fulfill her role after we lost her. Elturians did not believe me. My own sister did not believe me and Elturel fell. Again.”

She turned away from him, her feet dragging her into a slow, circular pace around her staff as she contemplated it. Gale wanted her to stop then. He knew where this was going, she had already recounted her history to him. She hadn’t said it, but he knew there was a lot to regret in it.

“My pride was believing I would ever be able to recreate the lost art of chronomancy where my mother failed. Now I am chained to a past I cannot escape and haunted by a future I do not know how to prevent,” Nox continued, words rising in volume and speed. “My pride was believing I could ever act like my sister and step into a leadership role with respect. It is something I have here only because of her, I know this—”

That was blatantly untrue.

“And my pride was in hoping I could still use that regardless. My pride was in hoping I could talk to a talented, stubborn, good wizard as a peer and a friend and have him consider my words!” she said, motioning towards him in exasperation. Or as an example. A few tears started spilling from her eyes. “And my hubris was falling for that stubborn man—who tasted power and divinity beyond what I could ever comprehend or compare to—and believing I ever stood a chance!”

They both froze. Gale stared at her, Nox stared back, eyes wide enough that she appeared as though she were just caught in the midst of a crime. It was the appearance of someone who instantly regretted saying way too much in a fit of madness. Her tears fell faster, slipping from glittering eyes that she squeezed shut before violently turning on her heel from him.

His mind screamed at him to step forward. To respond. To pull her back before she inevitably left. He didn’t—couldn’t—move.

“Oh…fuck it,” she growled. She uprooted Mourning Frost from the ground with a quick yank. “Just…do whatever you will,” she muttered roughly and began walking further into the darkness of the cursed lands. “I have tried all I can.”

[toytanks]

Hello!! :D Thank you so much for the last fic, it was wonderful! Your Dark Ford is just perfect and your writing is incredible!!

I just saw your valentines suggestions post scrolling through your Billford tag and if you still fancy writing something with one of those prompts, the ones I adore are- 17 ("You meant the world to me. You still do.") 20 ("I needed you and you weren't there.") 27 ("You make me fall apart so easily") 36 ("I'm such a fool for you. I'm your fool.") 40 ("Let me call you mine. Just for tonight.")

Because any/all of those sound awesome! <33

i filled out just one of these, but trust me when i say that ill be doing a few more of the ones you requested! #17, this ones real angsty >:3 read below or on ao3!

Ford thrashed, pulling the chain taut as he scrambled away from Bill. “No! No! I’ll never join you!”

The demon sighed, they’d been at this for a while now, and while torturing his dear Fordsy never got truly old, perhaps it was time for something new. The man cowered, hunching into a little ball, expecting jolts of electricity that never came. 

Bill floats over to Ford silently, and rests his hand on the man’s back, almost tentatively. Ford jerks, stiffening at the unexpected contact and growling under his breath. It's difficult for Bill not to laugh, but he schools his face into one of resignation and regret when Ford ventures a glance at him. Confusion twists his features for a moment before Bill speaks.

“...I never wanted to hurt you, you know.” Lie, even though it does have some truth to it, from certain angles. Yet, everything does. Still, it comes out easy as breathing. Ford looks unconvinced, hunching back down with a disbelieving snarl, but there's the tiniest of cracks in his facade.

“If you’d only give me what I need, I won’t have to hurt you again.” Need. Have to. The devil in the details. Ford doesn’t pick up on it, and if he does, he ignores it, relaxing ever so slightly. Bill doesn’t know which one he thinks is more funny.

Bill’s silent for a time, letting Ford meditate on it as he rubs the man’s back, working out some of the tightness in his muscles. It works wonders, Ford unwillingly relaxing into the touch and releasing a soft noise of pleasure. Humans, man. So easy.

Eventually, after hours of soft words and praise, he has Ford contented, happy and blissful, corralled into his lap, gaze absent. He draws the man up by the chin, and kisses him softly. Ford gasps, but once he catches up to the present, he is eager and attentive, immediately deepening the kiss. He lets slip sounds that Bill drinks out of him and rubs his hands up and down the demon’s edges.

Bill breaks the kiss in favour of biting at the man’s ear and Ford whines. Swallowing down laughter at how needy he is, Bill murmurs into his ear.

“Just give me the equation, Fordsy. We could do this forever.” 

Ford’s breathing is heavy as Bill bites his neck waiting for a response. Still in need of convincing then.

Here. Here is where he takes a calculated risk. It could seal the deal, or it could put him in danger. There is a truth in what he says next, and not just a shard. Not just a wisp of it if you look at it from just the right way. It could give him everything, though.

It does not.

“You meant the world to me. You still do.” It's a whisper, a confession, it means more than Ford could possibly know. He feels time still around them.

Ford is shaking, “Liar.” Ford is angry, “Liar.” Ford is clueless, “LIAR.”

~~~

“Liar!?” He screams, furious and distraught.

“I chased you for years!”

“I begged you to stay!”

“I made you mine!”

“And you call me a liar!?”

I loved you, he does not say. Not that, never that. Not You complete me. Not Please love me back.

He did not think you would deny him the silence they would hang in.

~~~

Bill rages. (Liar.) Wrath runs unbridled through his form, explosive and uncontrollable. (Liar.) He barely schools his expression into something more presentable for the man. (Liar.) This type of fury does not come often to him. (Liar.) This rage that burns and consumes and leaves nothing behind but sorrow and lethargy. (Liar.) The kind that turns you to ash. (Liar.)

He boils Ford alive just to blow off some steam. To let him get a taste of the fire that rages inside Bill.

Liar.