#this is a bit of an axe to grind for me as not only a femme lesbian but an alternative femme lesbian

[marzipanandminutiae]

hey nerd, you're a historical clothing person: whats the best fit for like genderqueer time traveler back on their bullshit?

I am, but you have to tell me more about what this genderqueer person likes to wear. I can't make any assumptions just from their gender identity.

Signed,

Someone who knows nonbinary folks who enjoy dressing like Marie Antoinette and nonbinary folks who enjoy dressing like stereotypical long-haul truckers, and everything in between.

PS- probably get a puffy white blouse though.

[cultofdixon]

Only you understand

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • There’s only one person on Daryl’s good side and it’s not even his brother. So when certain decisions led to leaving Merle chained to a roof, you were the one to talk to the youngest Dixon • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Unprotected Sex / Groping / Grinding • TW: Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

She’s heard it all

Y/N I could use a favor?

Got a second Y/N?

Mind talking to them, Y/N?

Sweetheart, can I pick your ear about something?

It all falls around the same thing. Asking the Dixon Brothers for anything…mainly for help acquiring food within the woods that the sickos haven’t taken for themselves. But they did everything she asked. Some thought it was because Merle would do anything and everything for her attention even if she doesn’t give him an ounce of anything.

But it’s really Daryl. Y/N is the only one that the youngest Dixon brother tolerates and some, more like Glenn alone, believes the Dixon likes her personally.

“Y/N…we need yea for something” Dale didn’t mean to disturb the girl when she was in the middle of another batch of squirrels she was skinning to prepare for the stew.

“Dale. This must be serious” Y/N half jokes as she wipes her knife off with her rag. “You’re usually not the one to ask me for help”

“Right well, you know the drill” Dale frowns removing his bucket hat and squeezing it out of nervous habit. “This isn’t gonna go well”

“If it’s anything like Daryl and Shane fighting over a little dispute about hunting grounds, I think I can handle—-“

“Lori’s husband came back with the Atlanta group, but they left Merle behind hand cuffed to roof” Dale stated without hesitating or letting Y/N process as she drops everything to go check on Lori for another personal matter that almost everybody knows about before thinking of the words to tell Daryl when he returns from his hunting trip.

When Y/N made herself known to the man that left the eldest Dixon behind as she felt a sense of warmth with the family reunion. But she knew that was going to be cut extremely short if Daryl gets his hands on him.

“You’re the Rick guy?”

“You must be Y/N, the resident Dixon whi—-“

“If you call me that stupid fucking shit that Shane came up with, I will hit you in front of your son” Y/N frowns watching Rick zip his lips to let her get to it. “What’s your plan here?”

“I don’t think I get what you mean” Rick laughs slightly only to immediately stop when it wasn’t getting anywhere with Y/N. “Are you talking about getting Merle back? I think we can do a bit of justice without the racist son of a bitch”

“Oh believe me, I agree wholeheartedly with that. But he’s not your family. I think you can agree that if it were you that got left behind, that you would want someone to come and find you” Y/N watches his expression fall making her cross her arms and stand her ground. “Right. You understand that completely and no one came to bring you back”

“Now that’s uncalled for, Y/N” Shane interrupts only for Y/N to take her leave on that note, picking up her axe from beside the put out fire pit.

“Sit with it, Shane. Call me when you have a plan, I have to try and keep his ass from being killed by the man who’s brother you left on that roof” as Y/N leaves the group to follow a familiar hunting ground to find the archer, Rick was left thinking about what she said.

No one came back for him.

The next day came around and the woods were quiet until they weren’t…

“Stupid fucking shit” Daryl curses under his breath over another deer being eaten by another walker.

As he knelt down to get a look at the damage to see if he could take any of the meat back, he heard a shift in the woods. The archer quickly rose to his feet aiming his crossbow and when the figure didn’t make themselves known, he fired.

Daryl instantly tensed when Y/N made herself known with an annoyed expression at him and the arrow in the tree beside her head.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I should be askin’ yea the same thing!” Daryl scoffs taking the arrow from her hand once she pulled it out. “I could’ve killed yea”

“Yeah well you’d do me a favor” The one thing he hated about her was her joking about death. “You gotta head back”

“Yeah?” Daryl scoffs putting his arrow away. “Ran out of food?”

“No, I’ve given them my squirrels to make a stew out of. But this is more of a matter regarding your idiotic brother”

Why did you give them the food I caught for—-“Wait. Merle? Is he back?”

“Daryl no he—-“ Daryl brushes past Y/N causing her to quickly deflate and follow him back to the campsite.

“Swear, yea think I don’t know they get yeah to talk to me about my idiot brother”

“I mean would you rather have Shane talk to you about Merle? Now Daryl come on. I gotta tell yea—-“ Y/N stops herself when he rose his hand indicating he heard something.

Daryl gave her a quick sign that it was another deer and then Y/N decided to take a second to put the Merle conversation on the back burner.

“They never make it this far up the mountain” Dale frowns staring at the walker that Jim had finished off once the group addressed the children’s screaming.

“They are running out of food in the city” Jim states stepping away from the carcass and the undead beside it.

Before any of them thought of walking back, that’s when the bushes started to rustle some more. Shane instantly readied his shotgun aiming toward the sound until he lowered it along with the others doing the same with their weapons of choice when their resident hunter popped out with the “Dixon whisperer” following behind him.

“Son of a bitch” Daryl scoffs bringing himself over to the deer. “That’s my deer…look at it. All gnawed on by this—“ he quickly kicked the walker out of anger. “Filthy, disease-bearing, motherless proxy bastard!”

“Daryl, come on” Y/N elbowed him when she brought herself close, giving Rick a certain look to watch his words.

“Think we can—-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Dar. It’s not safe” She pushes him carefully away from the tainted meat as Shane couldn’t agree more but when his voice spoke up, both gave him an annoyed look.

Then it was time.

“Merle!” Daryl calls out brushing passed everyone as both Shane and Rick gave Y/N a confused look.

“What?! You think I can instantly get through to the guy? It’s a conversation not a “oh by the way” type shit like you pigs are used to” Y/N scoffs shoving Shane to catch up to Daryl.

“MERLE! GET YOUR UGLY ASS OUT HERE” Daryl shouts once more, surprised slightly that his idiot brother didn’t instantly come. “I got us some squirrel! Gotta help Y/N skin’em for the stew!”

“Daryl, hold up. I need to talk to you” Shane caught up pushing Y/N aside as that lead her to give Lori a glare on the matter given she knows her hatred for the man. Not that she fully expresses it given what she’s walked on in the woods.

Daryl slowed his movement turning around to the pig watching him hesitate before getting to it.

“There’s been an incident in Atlanta…about Merle”

The tension grew in the space making the archer give his only close friend there a blank expression that she wasn’t giving him any answer from hers.

“He dead?”

“We’re not sure” And that caused the emotions to rise.

“He either is or he ain’t!” Daryl rose his voice watching the unfamiliar man bring himself over.

“No easy way to say this so I’ll just say it—-“

“Who are you?”

“Rick Grimes—-“

“Rick Grimes” Daryl mocks watching Y/N get closer to the situation. “You’ve got something you want to tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all” Okay… “So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He’s still there” Rick states watching Daryl’s rage grow on his face as he takes a step back scoffing slightly with a hint of a chuckle.

“Hold on, let me process this—-“ Daryl laughs with the venom in his tone of voice. “You saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and YOU LEFT HIM THERE?!”

The silent “yeah” that came out of Rick made Y/N wince ahead of time for what was about to happen next. Even if Daryl didn’t land a punch on either ex-cops. It wasn’t until Shane started to get Daryl into a chokehold that she brought herself over clawing at him to let go.

“Nah he’s gotta calm down before I—-“ And without another thought, Y/N punched Shane square in the jaw to let go of Daryl. She quickly caught his knife under her foot to swipe it away from him trying to get a shot on the new comer. “You crazy son of a bitch!” He barked at her as Y/N quickly stood in front of Daryl blocking him from either of the two.

“Chokeholds illegal asshole” Y/N barked back getting up in his face to have him stand back and away from Dixon. “Seriously. You fucking morons”

“You clearly didn’t prepare—-“

“Oh and you fucking did?” Y/N scoffs at Rick bringing herself to Daryl. “You need to let me fucking tell you next time so this wouldn’t happen. Can’t have them being fucking entitled dicks to the only motherfucker that understands me! Jesus.”

The tension only grew within the group as Daryl couldn’t calm the pounding in his chest when she said such.

“He listens. Rick’s gonna go and get him” Lori was quick to add crossing her arms as she wasn’t exactly happy about the situation. “He’ll listen to about anybody but his wife.”

Daryl waited for the group to disperse before bringing himself over to Y/N, taking her by the arm and dragging her slightly to his tent.

“You’re hurting me—-“ Y/N frowns as Daryl lets go quickly giving her a stern look before taking her hand into his to check the bruising from punching Shane. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay—-Sure” Daryl scoffs. “Yea ain’t coming”

“Seriously? How the fuck—-“

“YOU JUST AINT” He snaps a bit too close to her face resulting in a flinch coming from her as Y/N puffed up. “I don’t trust that Grimes guy and I ain’t letting yea near him after the fucking stunt he pulled with Merle”

“I can handle myself, Daryl.”

“Yeah. No shit. But you don’t have’ta” Daryl frowns feeling her presence grow closer to his person as he towered her slightly. “You didn’t have to stand up for me”

“Little too late for that. I just…wanted yea to know what happened from someone who gives a damn.” Y/N took a step back keeping her attention on him as the look in his expression seemed to want more and that drew the pounding in her chest to get louder. “Well find Merle, and whether you like it or not. I’m coming with”

I can’t lose you. Daryl frowns followed by a nod deciding not to argue further with the woman.

But nothing went their way since returning back to Atlanta, even when returning back to the quarry empty handed…

After taking out the herd that swept through the quarry camp, Daryl didn’t hesitate to shove T-Dog out of the way of getting to Y/N. She strayed from the group when returning to take out a few walkers by Carol and her daughter, he didn’t see her until the dust settled and wasn’t about to lose his mind all over again.

“You bit?!”

“No! Are you?” Y/N went to check his person as Daryl tugged her aside from everyone else back to their secluded corner. “Daryl please just answer—-“ she was instantly cut off by his lips smashing into hers, making her drop her axe to bring her hands onto either side of his face. In her mind the timing could’ve been better but neither of them was going to interrupt the moment. “Dar—-“ she breathed when their lips parted a moment.

“Ain’t bit.” He quickly responds with while returning his lips to hers as he drops his crossbow to his side bringing his hands to her hips gripping them.

Y/N tugged back a bit receiving a concerned look from Daryl until she brought her hands to his belt and he got the idea. He helped her get the belt off that led her to work at the buttons while he slipped her shirt off quickly bringing his hands back to her hips tugging her jeans down steadying her to finish removing them. Daryl brought his lips to hers once more before moving to her cheek down to her neck and then her collarbone working his way down while helping her descend along with him.

“Can’t—-“ He exhaled suddenly making Y/N stop her actions until he pressed his forehead against hers. “Can’t lose yea” he sighs feeling her arms snake around his neck while he positioned himself in between her legs towering her on the dirt.

“I’m right here, Dixon” She returned her lips quickly to his as he feverishly kissed her while bringing his hands below the belt to remove her panties along with pushing his pants and boxers further for his cock to spring out.

While Y/N found purchase on the back of his shirt, Daryl started to push his length in inch by inch listening to her gasps as she dug her nails into the fabric bringing her legs around his lower back. He didn’t move right away and waited for her to adjust once he was fully sheathed.

“Y/N—-“

“Please” Her voice shook with anticipation wanting him to move but there was more to it as she brushes her face against his feeling his lips graze her features. “Please tell me it ain’t just me”

“It ain’t just you, sunshine” He exhales, starting to move thrusting inside of her warmth listening to her quiet sounds wishing he could drive them out but didn’t want anyone to interrupt them.

As he picked up the pace, Daryl felt her tighten around him drawing a low growl to escape his lips feeling her bring themselves to his shoulder and bite down when she felt the cord begin to snap.

“Let go for me, sunshine” Daryl begged bringing his lips back onto hers listening to her hum while bucking her hips against his as he moans into her mouth at the feeling of her unraveling. “Fuck—“ he pulls out quickly before he could climax inside of her.

The archer carefully lays on top of her feeling her death grip on his shirt weaken and flatten her hands against his torso. Slowly bringing one of her hands to run through his hair as they both panted softly remaining in the other’s embrace.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“I can’t lose yea” Daryl frowns feeling her tighten around him for reassurance.

“You’re stuck with me, Daryl” She laughs softly feeling him shift to rise above her to look at her as she couldn’t help the littlest head tilt wondering more of what’s going on in that mind of his. “What is it?”

“Guess this uh…explains a lot of what I’ve been feelin’ lately” He laughs slightly with her joining.

“Truly, and uhm. I hope this…isn’t the only time and—“

“You’re mine, sunshine. We’re something”

“We’re something” Y/N smiles catching a glimpse of his smile before he started to clean themselves up.

It took them long enough.

[sourlove]

YANDERE ROCKSTAR 🎸 INTRO FIC (200 Follower Special!)

TW: HE GETS YANDERE LATER ON. NOTHING REALLY IN THIS ONE, CARRY ON

THANKS SO MUCH FOR 200+ FOLLOWERS! ENJOY!

(FEMALE GROUPIE READER)

Smoke billowed from Axel's parted lips as he ran a hand down his face. The club was hazy and jampacked with drunk people grinding on each other. It would have been too much if he had been a part of the sweaty throng, but Axel had the luxury of watching them from the balcony of the VIP section.

He sighed and took another drag of his cigarette, dropping his head back against the seat. He shouldn't have come here.

"Axe! My man!" An arm slung over Axel's shoulder and he was greeted with the unwelcome face of the Jailbird drummer, Max. The man grinned at the distaste on Axel's face. "Jeez, man, you've been so uptight lately. Should I get some girls?"

"Get off me," Axel grumbled. He couldn't even be bothered to shake him off. "You know why I'm fucking stressed."

Max hummed in understanding and handed him a bottle of beer. For the past few days, Axel couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. Jailbird's new album was supposed to come out in a few months and for the life of, him, he couldn't stop mulling over the title track. It was the most important song in the album, one that should be guaranteed to make headlines. One that he hadn't written yet.

"Would you look at that?" Max mumbled, causing Axel to glance towards the entrance of the VIP lounge. The bass guitarist, Eli and the pianist, Maryanne, came in laughing. But they weren't alone. They were followed by a gaggle of girls, all awe-struck and giggling at whatever story Elijah was telling. Max immediately gravitated towards the group, followed by the other guitarist Riley.

Axel stayed seated and sipped his drink, ignoring them when Max tried to pull him into the conversation. He didn't have time for this. Normally, he would be working his charm on some poor girl, using her to blow of some steam and slip away once he was done.

But there was an itch he couldn't scratch tonight. One that had him snapping at the only girl who dared to try her luck with the lead singer and guitarist of the band. Everyone steered clear after that. He needed some kind of inspiration for the fucking song and nothing in this club was helping.

Axel was nearly done with his third cigarette when his eyes drifted and suddenly met yours. E/C eyes widened and immediately darted away. He would have thought nothing of it if you didn't glance back after a few seconds, looking embarrassed when you made eye contact once again. He smirked and took you in for the first time that night. Now there was a surprise. There was something striking to you. You were dressed the same as the other girls and seemed starstruck by everything, just like them, but there was a freshness to you that intrigued Axel.

Before he could register his thoughts, he beckoned you over. You blinked and looked around. He shook his head and pointed directly at you, grinning. You stood up shakily and walked to him, looking like a newborn fawn in your precariously high heels.

"H-hi," you said, standing next to the couch.

"Hi. Come sit." Axel made room for you, just enough that your thighs still touched. You twisted your hands nervously as he drank in the sight of you.

"Um, i-it's nice to meet you. I'm a huge fan."

"You like Jailbird?" he asked. "What's your favorite song, then?"

You jumped when his hand played with the collar of your blouse. It was cute, like you. A bit revealing, Axel noted, as his eyes drifted over your cleavage, but nice. Simple.

"Oh no. I mean the band is awesome, but I'm really just a fan of you." You ducked your head shyly. "I like 'Starlight'."

He laughed loudly, surprised. "You know Starlight? Fuck, that's an old song. I don't believe you."

'Starlight' was one of the few songs he performed alone, when Jailbird was just a dream that only he and Max believed in. Axel only ever sang it once, at a random talent show and he didn't even place on the board. It had been a blight in his career, one he buried with new albums and songs that topped the charts. So he was genuinely surprised to see you reach into your bag and unfold a creased flyer for the talent show, dated years ago. On the back, was his old signature, a rough scrawl that he hated but remembered.

"Shit." Axel squinted at the paper, suddenly sober. "You-you really were there..."

"I don't think you would remember me," you babbled on, oblivious to his internal thoughts. "I wanted to ask for a picture, but you didn't look so good, which I understand because you were robbed! I-I mean, you obviously deserved first place, Starlight was-is amazing!"

Axel didn't like to be reminded of the time when he was nobody, when nothing he ever wrote was good enough, especially not Starlight. It was his first song, his favorite song, until all he got for it was scattered applause and a participation slip. The band was formed and Axel had a new sound, a new meaning to his songs. Starlight did not cut it anymore.

And now, here you were, digging up his dirty past, holding it to his face. And showing him how much you loved it. It was humbling. Axel didn't like to be humbled. But he liked you. He liked you very, very much.

"Ever had a shotgun kiss?" He asked, interrupting your rant. You blinked again and shook your head.

"Oh no, I don't smoke, sorry."

"You could start," Axel said, holding his cigarette up. He took a long drag and grabbed you face, squishing your cheeks to part your lips. He smirked when your breath hitched as your mouths met and chuckled when you coughed, pulling away from him. "Not bad, starlight. Just needs some practice." He held out his bottle and you took a tentative sip, smiling shyly. Cute.

"You're much nicer than you look," you commented. Only to immediately backtrack. "N-not that you look mean or anything! It just seems like you prefer being alone..."

Axel hummed, lighting another stick. He held it up to you and stared at you with an eyebrow raised. You grimaced but wrapped your lips around it anyway. When you stopped coughing, he said, "You should listen to your instincts. I'm not so nice, starlight."

He watched you fiddle with the hem of your skirt for a moment, before glancing up at him through your lashes. "Well...what if I don't want to listen to them?"

Suddenly, Axel wanted nothing more than to leave the club with you on his arm. He grinned and stood up, offering his hand to you. "Oi, Max! I'm heading back so don't wait up!"

You blushed as your friends cheered, and Max gave Axel a thumbs up. "Where are we going?" Were you really that clueless? Axel would have a lot of fun ruining that innocence.

"Just you wait, starlight," he purred into your ear, nipping at the soft shell as you shivered. "I'm going to change your life."

Hours later, in his hotel suite, as his sweat cooled and his heartbeat slowed, Axel's mind buzzed with ideas. The inspiration he had been desperately searching for rushed to him as you nuzzled into his neck, sleepily.

"What did you say your name was again, starlight?"

"Hmmm? Y/N."

"Fuck that's a pretty name," he breathed.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N...it looked like he had a title for the song. All he had to do was start writing down and tweaking the lyrics. But that would have to come later. Axel pulled you closer and drifted to the first peaceful rest he'd had in weeks, with your name still on his tongue.

Y/N...

READ PART 2 HERE

FIND MY MASTERPOST AND ALL OTHER LINKS HERE

A/N: Hope you guys love Axel as much as you love Lucas! If you enjoyed, leave a like, comment and reblog. Or drop and ask for anything you had in mind. Loves ya xxx

[gladiatorcunt]

Literally begging you to please write more Patrick Zweig x Reader fics 🥵🥵

cw: 18+ MDNI, afab reader, hints of patrick x art / patrick x reader x art, consensual and accidental somno, gross patrick, hint of breeding kink, college era ish, mention of ass play, unedited

Tired Loser Bf!Patrick who hikes one of your thighs over his, pressing up against you and sinking back into your already wet pussy. It’s so early in the morning, but sometimes he gets in a mood where he just needs to go lose himself in your cunt even if you’re not contributing. You hum and snuggle further into the silk pillowcase, relishing in the too tight grip of your plush love handles and the sloppy sounds his balls make against your ass. You hardly spend any time together due to his career rhat’s been on a bit of a decline, so you’re more than happy to be his toy if that’s what makes him feel like he’s worth anything. Like he can only find meaning in the warm walls of your pussy, and ass, on occasion.

It’s either this or quick fucks on the counter or kitchen table, both of you nearly clawing at each other in desperation to all but consume the other. Sometimes it’s softer, slow thrusts angled to perfectly hit the right spot every time as he trails open mouthed kisses along your collarbone. Patrick offers to take a shower after coming home sweaty and disgusting but you always say that you prefer him like that anyway. He whines pathetically for a kiss for you and for him from a best friend you’ve never met into your neck and pounds you harder. Your eyes flutter half open at the impact, the grunts behind you and the thick weight moving in and out of you being the only things you can comprehend.

“Glided right in, didn’t even have to finger you or anything.” He moans too loudly for sleepy sex at 5 in the monring. “Always so ready for me, just how i like you.”

“Uh! Uh huh-“

You sigh and nod into the pillow, lazily throwing your ass back on his cock as he fucks you. His pace is so fast that you’re worried he might throw his back out, it’s so frantic and desperate, like he’s trying to stab your guts and leave a permanent mark on you from the inside. You zone in on his heavy breathing, he grinds his length deeper inside and lifts one of your ass cheeks just to watch it fall and jiggle back into place. It’s almost like he’s on the court, eyes watching the ball like a hawk and giving you the most toe curling punched out sounds when he hits it. His precision and raw enthusiasm has you gasping.

The sun’s not far off from rising, so you give up on getting anymore meaningful rest and drown in the intense smell around you. Sweat, slick, old almost acidic cum from when he bred you in his sleep, take out containers from last night that haven’t been thrown away, sharp and piercing autumn air, Patrick’s horrific axe body spray, your much more pleasant cherry blossom body wash. His thrusts send you rocking up the bed, tits swaying back and forth in the mess of tangled thin sheets. Your still half concious but he fucks you like he’s been awake for hours, eyes wide and crazed and brow furrowed like he needs so much more of you than he thought. He moans two names after quick sucks to both of your nipples, one for each. Yours and that same best friend’s.

The red cap Patrick has stashed away in the nighstand collects dust like a skeleton in a closet. There are sessions where he won’t, or maybe can’t, cum unless you cry and whine for that best friend too. You don’t even know who you’re begging for another cock to steal your voice and ravage your throat, but you do it and take note of the euphoric shout that rattles all the way out of Patrick’s chest, the all too pleased sigh into the valley of your breasts. You don’t ask in the shower or in bed, the buried sadness he carries like a chain gives the impression that the abscence is not his choice. Might be a nice birthday present, a reunion.

You wake up more as he goes insane with his fucking, his arm restrains your thigh and pulls it up so high you can feel the muscle stretching. He doesn’t communicate beyond feral grunts and something primal between a growl and a whimper, making sure you can really feel his thick cock bullying your poor pussy beyond repair. You never mind, in fact some days it’s you who wakes Patrick up by bouncing on him like a cock starved slut. You like when you can’t forget what he’s done to you, when you can raise your head to admire the new necklace of bruises. It’s not like he’s never gentle with you, but you don’t feel ashamed for loving him how he is. The jagged edges and aching need to belong somewhere, to someone.

Sometimes all a relationship needs to work is for the people involved to be the same, deep down or surface level. You take whiffs of his pubes that are too deep to be normal apprection for your partner’s body and he eats his own tangy cum out of your puffy pussy like it’s God’s gift to humanity, spitting the left over jizz and additional saliva into your ass hole and slurping that up too. But in the here and now, he’s fucking you without a goal or an end in sight, heavy balls wetly kissing your lower body with no assurance of being emptied. It could be hours before Patrick lets either of you cum, like it’s one of his games that more closely resembles a heated battle to something that looks and acts like death. Evenly matched, no one being stronger than the other.

So you give him the point and drift off, messily tongue kissing him back and lulling yourself to the chaotic rhythm of his thrusts. Outside, it starts to softly rain, the ambience of the moment softening both of your hearts. You put effort in a real kiss, only for a second, whisper an ‘I love you’ and wait for a resounding ‘I love you too’ before shutting off your brain for the time being.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 9

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.

Nine.  九

You wake up the next day certain you will be fired. But when the axe does not fall, you relax slightly, going about your tasks. It occurs to you that maybe you should leave–but you don’t really want to, and only part of that has to do with your fascination with Donaka himself. The coming weeks seem almost normal, and you begin to think that Mr. Mark decided to be a gentleman about it all, and pretend it never happened.

What a fool you are. 

Your first inkling of your idiocy comes when you are called into Mr. Mark’s office, after dinner, when usually you are hanging up your apron and calling it quits for the day. 

You approach his massive carved ebony desk with folded hands, feeling all for like a naughty school girl. Donaka Mark sits behind it, every bit the lord and master of the house. He has discarded his suit jacket, the top buttons of his black dress shirt undone, so handsome it hurts. His eyes are sharp as obsidian knives upon you, and a cold chill runs down your spine as you come to stand beside him, as he directs. 

That is when he produces the colorfully-covered journal you usually keep secreted in your underwear drawer, the little book dwarfed in his hands. Your heart does a swan dive–you hadn’t even realized it was missing. 

He does not seem amused. 

Maybe you can’t blame him. In that book, amidst your more pedestrian musings and accounts of your day, you have detailed every torrid little fantasy your rotten brain ever concocted about this man. Scorching alternate endings to all your encounters in which you were too smart, or too much of a coward to actually see through. Not to mention, the completely fictional bonus scenes too. It’s like an X rated love letter that rambles on for pages and pages and dear lord, it’s in his hands.

He throws the book down on his desk with a clap that makes you jump out of your skin. With narrowed eyes he looks up at you, his voice low and dangerous. "Care to explain this?"

Your mouth makes a perfect ‘o’ of surprise, your blood turning to ice in your veins. A flood of unbearable embarrassment washes through you, and you begin to shake like a leaf. Never in your life have you ever been so mortified, or, so angry, that he has that obviously private book in his hand. 

"How dare you read that?"

Rage flares in Donaka's dark eyes, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth. 

"How dare I read this filth, written about me, in my house? I have every right."

You are quaking, tears in your eyes. The things you wrote about him in that diary...it’s not all filth. Some of it…is foolishly sweet. And he read it all.  Your chest feels like it's pressed in a vice. You feel like you want to throw up...or just die, there on the rug of his office, rather than speak to him further about this. A timely earthquake would be most appreciated; a fissure in the floor to jump into, quite ideal. 

Donaka takes in your reaction to his intrusion of your privacy with secret pleasure; he knows he's got you right where he wants you, completely at his mercy, humiliated and vulnerable.

He leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on your face, drinking in your misery. "I read every single word," he delights in telling you.

You look away, utterly unable to meet his eyes. "Congratulations, Sir," you rasp past the lump of sand in your throat.

Donaka can't help the cold smirk that appears on his face as he watches you look away, unable to meet his eyes. The way you address him as "sir" makes a shiver of satisfaction run down his spine.

“I've got to say, I'm impressed. I never would have guessed your imagination was so...vivid. You seem like such a nice girl.”

A shuddering breath escapes you. You’ve resisted him all this time, taking solace instead in writing in your journal. It was better that way. Safer. But this man is not the type to be satisfied with just words on a page. That's why...he runs a billion dollar corporation, and you...sweep floors.

Donaka watches your defeated gesture, savoring it like a fine dessert. 

“Just what did you intend to do with all this?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” you defend immediately. Dear god, you think. Please don’t let this man think I was planning a ‘Tell All’. 

“This is a lot of energy gone into nothing?” 

He doesn’t have to tell you. “It’s just…my journal. To clear my head.”

“Your journal. Of things that never actually happened?” It sounds pretty stupid when he puts it that way–you feel every pound of pressure he puts in that statement, and you think you really just might faint right there beside his desk. “Do you actually get satisfaction out of that?” He sounds genuinely curious.

You close your eyes, so you don’t have to look at his blazing dark stare boring into you as you nod.

“Just give it back, and you never have to see me again.”

He laughs at you, a cruel little chuckle that pierces you to the core. “No, this little treasure is never leaving this house. And you’re not going anywhere.” 

You can do nothing but shake your head, trembling in your very bones. 

“You’re brave in many ways, y/n,” he tells you, fingering the cover of your damning treatise on The Art of Being Creepy About Your Boss. “But in others? Such a coward.” 

It’s the understatement of the century, and you can’t stand it anymore. You turn on your heel to leave–and a grip like iron encircles your wrist, so tight the bones creak. You get your first real taste of how strong this man is, when he jerks you down into his lap like you are a ragdoll made of straw. A yip of a scream escapes you, as he manhandles you like he owns you.

You feel so small, enveloped by his massive frame, his long arms wrapped around you.

"Let's have story time, shall we?" he says with a wicked chuckle, cracking the journal to a random page, and he begins to read the explicit scene you wrote starring the two of you, against the bookshelves, in the library. You can feel his deep, baritone voice vibrating against your skin as he recites, his arm around your waist holding you tight, preventing you from escaping.

“The strength in his hands makes me weak, those veritable paws gripping my thighs and lifting me, the desperate fury of his kiss pressing me back into the shelves so hard there will be linear bruises imprinted upon my skin. Perhaps I will look upon the souvenir tomorrow with equal parts pride and horror, still unsure if I am a victim, or if I welcomed the beast’s ravishment with open arms. Both feel true. The lush wetness between my legs suggests the latter, and as he explores my center with those long, blunt fingers I embrace the prospect of my ruin, bewitched by his skillful touch… Sweetheart, I’m flattered!”

You are dying in your mortification, your face on fire, your every nerve ending aware of this man. You physically cannot stand it, going feral in his arms, squirming in his lap like a fish on a hook, desperate to get away from this hell of your own making. It’s like pushing on a steel wall; he does not give a millimeter up to you. 

"Forget travel writing, I think your calling is the x-rated romance novel," he congratulates you cruelly when you finally go still with exhaustion. And maybe it’s true–you can feel the bulge of his erection pressing into your behind, and fuck if despite your desperation, you start to ache between your thighs, your unhelpful lady parts casting their usual vote for what is undoubtedly a form of suicide.  

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Look how you’re trembling. You’ve tried to deny it all along, but you want me."

"I want you to let me go." You push at his muscle-corded arm around you again, fruitlessly. You haven’t resorted to nails or teeth yet–somehow, you suspect you would not like the result of such an escalation. 

Donaka's grip on you just tightens even more, squeezing the breath from you. “You know…something about reading this makes me think that’s not what you really want.” 

Suddenly he stands, dropping you on his desk hard, tossing the little book away so that he can use two hands to pin you down. You might have screamed, had it not knocked the breath out of you. "I liked your ideas about this desk," he growls, taking your mouth in a punishing kiss, pressing you down into the wooden surface with his full bodyweight, his slender hips wedged between your legs. He kisses you like he means to devour you whole, starting with your mouth. 

This. This is what you expected all along. 

"Please, Donaka–" you plead when you are allowed to draw a breath. But his fingers in your hair control your head, pulling your lips to his again. His kiss is fueled by a fierce, primal hunger, his tongue delving deep into your mouth, seeking and claiming every inch of you as his own. His free hand moves over your body, exploring and caressing every curve and contour, squeezing the soft meat of your bare thigh, sliding under your panties to cup your ass.

"I'm not angry that you wrote the words," he snarls against your cheek. "I'm angry that you dared to deny me, lying to my face while you wanted me all along." His eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense. "Your charade ends tonight."

“But I–”

You whimper as he tugs at your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes again. "No more excuses, you little coward," he snarls. "Did you think you were going to tame me with a potato chip?”

"I wasn't playing with you," you protest, on the edge of tears. "I never meant to hurt you!" 

“Hurt me?” His tone is incredulous, but in that moment it dawns on you that that is indeed the root of his fury. He’d offered you sweetness, at least his version of it, such a rare and unheard of thing for him, damn near showing vulnerability–and you’d denied him. So now…you were getting the stick, and despite the flood of arousal between your legs, you weren’t really sure you liked it all that much. There were no straight lines with this man. Everything was a jagged edge, or a shade of grey. 

"You didn’t hurt me, you infuriated me,” he insists, his lips on your neck. “You knew what I wanted, what I needed, and yet you still dared deny me." He returns to your mouth, his lips hovering just above yours. "You wanted the thrill of bedding the bad man, but none of the blame. That’s fine, bunny. I’ll be your villain.”

At hearing that you renew your struggle, trying to worm out of his grasp.

Donaka's grip on you tightens even more as you writhe, his weight crushing the breath from you, his hips pinning you like a butterfly on a board. There truly is no escaping him like this.  “Give it up," he admonishes, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You wanted me to make you. I read all about it, and I’ll give it to you, sweetheart. I'm not letting you go. Fight me, I like it. Or submit, I like that too. Either way, you're mine tonight."

You’ve known all along that he is a dangerous enigma, and that was why you tried to exorcise your desire for him in words on a page, and not play with fire, not taunt the beast and offer him your tender flesh because you knew you would get bitten. 

But deep down...God, you’d wanted it anyway. You’d wanted to know, just once, what it would be like to bare your throat to a man like Donaka Mark, wondering if he might find you enticing enough, worthy enough, to kiss rather than kill simply because he could. 

“I hate you,” you hiss through your tears, but all you win is his dark laughter. 

“You wish that you hated me, baby. I read all about that too.” He kisses you again, almost tenderly this time, though his hold on you is still bruising. He kisses your cheeks, savoring the wet tracks of your tears. “Don't cry. I’m going to make your wicked little fantasies come true.” 

He kisses you, a deep, punishing lock of lips, and his hand disappears beneath your skirt. When he touches your soaking wet center he smiles against your mouth. You know it is not a nice smile, but still you moan as his thumb circles your clit confidently, as though he knows exactly how to handle you–as though you already belong to him. When he withdraws you watch with horror as he licks his thumb clean, his eyes all for you. 

“Tastes like little liar,” he sighs with narrowed eyes. “But we’re going to fix that.” 

You scream, when he savagely tears open the front of your dress, the black buttons flying to every corner of the room. He ducks to kiss your freshly bared skin, impatiently pulling down the cup of your bra, presenting your mounded flesh for his delectation. When his lips close on your nipple, his tongue flicking, you feel it simultaneously in your throbbing clit. An involuntary moan escapes you, and you know this is the beginning of the end.

“That’s my good girl,” he encourages between ravishing your sensitive flesh, his hips locked against yours. “Tell me all about it.”

“I do hate you.” 

He laughs, a short bark of mirth before kissing you again. You feel him reach down to work his buckle and buttons and zipper, taking himself out with one hand, the other still holding you down. He’s so impatient he simply pushes your panties to the side, his thick tip sinking past your entrance with embarrassingly little resistance, you’re so wet. He growls as he bullies himself inside, lost in the sensation of you, drunk on the heady high of triumph at last.

When you open your mouth to protest he makes the final thrust that fills you completely, tearing a sound from your throat instead that sounds suspiciously like enjoyment. Your head rocks back against the desk as your body adjusts to this delicious invasion.

This is bad. Very bad. But it feels so very good. 

He pauses for a moment to savor it, looking down at you with a smirk, and maybe you invent it out of desperation–but a smoldering warmth in his eyes.

You are so fucked.

“I just knew you’d have the sweetest little pussy.”

He kisses you, moaning in your mouth as he thrusts, losing himself as he wrecks you with his unfairly endowed cock. When his tip hits your cervix you flinch, your body still trying to get away, even while the rest of you has accepted the inevitable. “Too much?”

“Yes,” you hiss, still writhing beneath him.

“Be good then,” he warns you, his voice rough in your ear. “Or I’ll have to punish you.” 

He ducks to your breast again, his tongue wreaking havoc as his thumb slips between you, moving in time with his manhood stretching you to perfection, hitting just the right spot like he was made for you…

“Fuck,” you pant, out of frustration and need and worst of all…the knowledge of absolute defeat. 

You feel him smile against your skin, surrendering to pleasure while he works inside you once more. “Someone’s finally catching on…” 

You let out a growl…but you’re not fighting him anymore, your back arched as you strain for the release that is building in your hips, that maddening promise of euphoria coiled in your loins, the gratification you’ve craved from this man since day one. The tightening of your walls around him wins you another ragged groan, his forehead pressed to your breastbone as he concentrates on making you cum first. A part of you wishes he’d just get off and leave you alone–but he’s not going to do that. There’s no way in hell, you’re in his claws and so you might as well wring every little bit of enjoyment out of it that you can, before you meet your inevitable demise…

“Come on baby,” he coaxes. “Give me what’s mine. From now on, this is where your pleasure comes from, and I intend to keep your schedule full.” 

“This is not–becoming a thing,” you insist, short of breath, because it feels like he’s in your lungs.

He laughs at you, a wicked chuckle that raises your every hair follicle. “No? Do I have to keep you on the edge until you beg me for it, pretty girl? We could do this for days.”

Is it possible, to cum out of spite? You think it might be, as you wrap your legs around his narrow hips in a bid to control the timing of his thrusts. He lets you, caught up in the moment you start participating rather than fighting. You clench upon his perfect cock buried inside you, desperate to indulge yourself before he can torture you by withholding it. 

Your orgasm takes mercy on you, rising to the occasion valiantly. The rapture of it destroys you like a chain explosion, filling your loins before ripping up your spine, hitting so hard you arch and lift him from desk for a few, beautiful moments of ruin. He moans with you, fucking you hard as your needy, turncoat of a cunt milks him, sending him over the edge to spill inside you. He fills you with hot spurts of his essence, his powerful body locked against yours as though to make sure you get every drop. 

For a few long moments he collapses on you, his breathing heavy in the bend of your neck, his lips gentle behind your ear.

“Was that so terrible?” he asks you smugly, sitting up on his elbows to sweep the wisps of your sweat-plastered hair from your forehead. You close your eyes, lulled by the unexpected tenderness in his touch.

“I still hate you,” you sigh unconvincingly.

“Mmm hmm. I can tell. Are you on birth control?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked that beforehand?”

“Don’t be smart, just answer the question.”

You growl, winning that smirk that quickens your heart. He just thinks you’re cute, goddamn him.

“No, I’m not going bear your demon spawn,” you grumble with an eye roll.

“Hmm.” He smirks down at you, his eyes sweeping your face, then lower, and for a terrifying moment you can’t tell if he’s pleased by your preparedness, or contemplating the thought of filling you with his child. The latter scares you more than anything else he’s done so far tonight.

Spitefully you muse, “I kinda wish I had a venereal disease to give you though.” 

Now he narrows his eyes. “Very funny.”

“You’ll find out, I guess...”

He puts his hand over your mouth; it's so big it envelopes the whole lower half of your face.

“Let’s have silence now.” You glare–and you lick his hand, though you don’t make a sound. He looks at it with a frown, then wipes it on your cheek.

“Come on.” He withdraws, righting himself, then you, papers fluttering to the ground as you make your dismount from the desk. Whatever he was working on is surely ruined by sweat…and other bodily fluids. He doesn’t seem to care, for the smug way he smiles at you. 

You might have fallen, if not for his strong arm steadying your shaking limbs. He gives you a moment to find your legs, and as you rest against the solid warmth of his chest, enveloped by the spice of his cologne, you are consumed by the warring urges to kiss him and to hit him. This man. This man could prove to be the death of you through confusion alone. 

He tilts your face up to his, surprisingly gentle now. It’s hard to believe this is the same man from five minutes ago, when he presses his lips to yours. 

You try to button your dress, but it's a lost cause. Maybe it doesn’t matter, because he is pulling you away, towards the door. In the hallway you try to break off in the direction of your room, but he snorts at you, guiding you in the opposite direction with a hand on the back of your neck. 

“I’m not done with you yet, bunny…”

“Donaka…” You only narrowly resist the urge to sob. “You won. Just let me go…” All you want to do is be alone to lick your wounds, and reflect on what the fuck just happened to you. Your thoughts are a complete jumble; you are a walking well-fucked vessel filled with shame and confusion and you hate to admit–total gratification.  It all went by so fast and maybe deep down you wanted it but he just took you and you– 

As though he knows you are trying to pick all this apart and doesn’t intend to give you the chance, Donaka jerks you to him, pulling you into a punishing kiss that melts your bones all over again. You make a small, kittenish sound that betrays your begrudging enjoyment. You swear you feel his smug satisfaction emanating from his pores.

“Don’t you get it yet?” he asks you darkly, a dangerous sparkle in his midnight black eyes. “You’re mine now.”

[glitterincandles]

smiling friends playing minecraft ; ☆

glep

is the one who thought of the idea in the first place #socialmediamanager

brought it up to mr. boss as a "team bonding activity" LOL

in charge of their minecraft server and mediates any conflict that happens within it

the ultimate gamer actually a gamer GOD

is in the game 24/7, they never stop the grind

definitely the first one to find diamonds

yo glep the typa guy to have his whole house and storage decked out by the first day

has an automatic farm for everything (cobblestone, iron, gunpowder, slime, etc) like u name it they have it for some reason

he doesn't let everyone use them for free though

he makes the others "pay" (read: do something embarrassing, run an errand for him, give him iron or something) to get access to any of his automatic farms of their choosing for a whole day

they can negotiate w them tho

like if one of them comes up to him and they have something that he doesn't find valuable then they DO have a chance to convince him of its value but otherwise it won't work lol

in fact he'll be quite offended

like u think that red dye is enough to get access to my automatic iron farm?! HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

undeniably the most powerful person in the server

his minecraft skin is definitely either one of those meme skins with an oddly realistic face on the torso or a skin that looks like some sort of lizard dragon monster thing

mr. boss

honestly barely knew what minecraft was before glep brought it up

he did assume it was some kind of game when he hears the word

like any other video game, he had to be introduced to it by the ppl around him

despite him approving of the game, he's barely ever joins the server

^^^^ he's more into rhythm games and fps

has no clue whats going on in the server tbh

he just gets bits and pieces based off of what others say to him or around him

because of that he tries to join the server more often but he really really can't get ahold of minecraft in general bc he gets bored very easily and needs outside stimuli

is the type to log into a server he hasn't touched in a hot second and be upset that everyone else is so far ahead

he always spawns in the middle of nowhere every time bc he hasn't made or slept in a bed yet

^^^ because he usually leaves the server within 5 minutes which isn't long enough for the day-night minecraft cycle to commence (minecraft days are 10 minutes long)

when he logs on while its nighttime in the server he literally BREAKS into allan's house (much to his dismay) and forgets to patch any hole he left in his walls or windows

he hits/kills everyone else in minecraft for fun

literally just logs in to cause chaos then leave

^^^ everyone is thankful that he doesn't have access to tnt yet

definitely uses the alex minecraft skin

allan red

he took a while to accept that they have a minecraft world together

he found it kinda obnoxious (he joined the server anyway)

determined to have the best house in the game

if he had to take any role, he would be the builder

the first thing he did when he logged in was start building a house... like wood enters his inventory, he just makes a fuckin axe then uses the rest of the wood to build his house ;w;

he's actually pretty good at it since he already is very detail-oriented and shit so he can definitely make a fire house

when it comes to mining or combat tho he's so shit

^^^ glep helps in this aspect LOL

only went to the nether for glowstone and it pissed charlie off once

bc theyre already pretty close, glep is more lenient on him and is usually on his side when it comes to any conflict that occurs in the server

not only does he put a lot of effort into his houses, he also puts a lot of effort into the outside of his houses

he just be building shit

built a whole mansion for his minecraft dog once (just bc)

every time he dies in minecraft he's like "ok that means its time for me to log off"

surprisingly has a very healthy balance of play time. he plays just enough to get very far in the game and keep up with everything and ALSO keep his real life stabilized and normal

he has a creative minecraft world outside of the server that he tries redstone in to get lights in his normal minecraft house to work without it looking too bulky and ugly

^^^ he also uses it to make booby traps for anyone entering his house without permission

^^^^ they never fucking work on mr. boss

he made his minecraft skin himself and its just him if he were yassified

charlie dompler

oh god fucking finally was probably what ran through his mind when he heard the news

he probably joked about it once to pim and was surprised that it actually came true

this guy is second to glep when it comes to gaming

like srsly bro probably has a gaming setup and/or is saving up for one

he was the second to join the minecraft server (second to glep again)

he is the opposite of allan; he hates building and only ever mines or fights mobs

in fact he made his whole minecraft hideout in the side of a cave and it only has like. one crafting table, six fucking furnaces, and like 10 chests full of random drops and bulllshit, then his singular bed in the middle of the room with a big path leading down to a random ass cave

looking at his minecraft hideout would make a minecraft builder CRY their eyes out its worse than u think

would often vc with pim and play with him on the server

spends a concerning amount of time on minecraft bc he always has something to do on it, he just gives himself random side quests

despite the disorganization of his minecraft home he's actually more organized in minecraft than in real life believe it or not

he probably hasn't touched grass since he joined the minecraft server

him and glep duel it out sometimes for fun, or they do like fighting challenges with each other like who can kill the most zombies without dying

extremely attached to a wolf he tamed when he first joined the server

he watched minecraft gaming youtubers and bc of that he enchants everything he owns bc those were his favorite episodes

his minecraft skin is some sort of character from one of his interests, like mr. frog or a random salty's mascot bc he finds it funny

pim pimling

his poor cheap office laptop can barely run minecraft omfg

when he boots minecraft up, it'd lag so hard and the fans in his laptop would go crazy, then after five minutes minecraft runs "as normal"... like it's playable but not to ppl who are used to 250 fps

^^^ it happens every fucking time he doesn't know how to fix it

he's ok with it though he's like ok give it a sec this happens all the time ^w^

^^^^ was the last person to join the server bc of this

sings a song while he's doing a minecraft chore, like in the silly halloween special episode when he was singing picking up twigs! picking up twigs! that'll be him while getting wood or something similar

he's real careful about how long he plays bc he doesn't want his laptop to overheat

his combat skills r pretty good bc of his experience playing gwimbly's games when he was younger

his favorite thing is definitely farming though

he's at a constant dilemma of using bones for either bone meal or taming another wolf to add to his mini army

^^^ the mini army is only making his lag worse charlie Really doesn't understand

settled down in a village in one of those empty houses and fight to protect them from any raid that occurs

talks aloud to minecraft villagers as if they can hear him

his village house is filled with many animals actually

he is charmed by baby zombies and baby villagers

^^^ he adopted a baby villager in minecraft once

^^^^ she died in a freak accident during a raid

^^^^^ pim was heartbroken for days

he does a lot of side quests with charlie for fun

like charlie, his minecraft skin is a character from one of his interests,, most likely gwimbly or a character from that game

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Precious chapter / Epilogue

a/n part fifteen! Right so, welcome to the end of it all. I genuinely from the bottom of my heart didn't expect you all to love this series so much. It's hands down one of my favorite project through a year of writing. It breaks me to know that we are meeting here with all of them for the very last time... You will get an epilogue chapter after this so. Second to last, let's say. Enjoy! And thank you once again. ✨🤍🫧

warning: kids - a fan favorite, past trauma, injuries, self sabotage. Nothing major, I promise.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

All Azriel remembered was the excruciating pain that ripped through every fiber of his body as he took step after step down the mountain from the fallen sanctuary. He had roared for Rhys, but either from his share of luck, at a second chance at life, or the level to which his body had been drained, Azriel was nowhere near his high lord mental shields. So he walked with your limp body in his hands. His wings dragged behind him. Jaw flexed. Teeth grinding against one another. Azriel took shaky steps. Because he never, not even in thousands of years, was gonna give up a chance to save you.

He collapsed shortly after reaching the burned outskirts of the city. Anger and dread pooled in his gut. He couldn't give up. Couldn't lose consciousness. Yet his knees dipped, and Azriel was on the hard ground. You slipped out of his grip, the pearlescent sheen of your hair and skin mixing with the ashes. "I'm so sorry," Azriel had breathed as he laid there beside you, feeling his body draining of last bits of strength. "If only I hadn't met you," he breathed, and the words alone shredded his heart. Because, as much as he tried to tell himself that you all would have been safer without him interfering, the spymaster couldn't imagine living in a world where you three weren't the center of his heart. But maybe that was the same selfish part of him. So deeply rooted in him. No matter what, he always ended up thinking how he couldn't live a life without the feeling of you in his chest and without the laughter of the kids. Azriel had let out a shaky breath, and then everything turned to darkness.

He had woken up in his bed sometime later. Rhys was sitting by his side. His faces were so dull and pained that it almost made Azriel want to reassure him, but he couldn't because the wave of anger that had rippled through Azriel was way stronger. The spymaster sat up quickly, pulling the blanket off. "Azriel," Rhys had let out a shaky breath. "Where are they?", black dots sprung into Azriel's vision, but he stood up regardless. "I think you should..." Rhys stared, but Azriel quickly cut him off. "I think you should tell me where my family is before I do something we might end up regretting down the line." His voice was rough and bitter.

"Give me a chance to...", Rhys pleaded as he stepped closer to Azriel. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, but Azriel didn't let them sway his judgment. "Give you a chance to what? Tell me that you all love me but sabotaged the best thing in my life because you didn't care all that much". His words were venom. Pure lethal venom. But the panic that rushed through Azriel was too strong. Too... "So I'll ask you one last time, where is my family?" His tone turned even deeper, "Where are my kids?" Rhys just stared at him. One heartbeat too long. Azriel growled as he yanked the door open. Swaying as he stepped into the hallway, on good days, when his scenes were intact, he would be able to find them with the emotional pull alone. But now... The spymaster was a mess as he wiped his head in different directions.

"Axel!", he yelled, not caring what hour it was. "Zofie," he breathed. He had to see them. "Ax!", Azriel roared, followed by the second part of his plea, "Zo!" The sound of the door opening somewhere down the hall made Azriel turn his head back. Nyx had stepped out, his weary eyes watching the spymaster. "In here, uncle," the boy called out softly, his eyes drawing back to the room. Azriel let out a relieved sigh as he rushed forward.

Axel met him almost halfway, and it was enough to almost send Azriel back on his knees. The feeling of these messy black curls beneath his fingers eased some of the worry. "Papa," Axel breathed into Azriel's chest. "I got you, my worrier; you did good," the spymaster muttered into the boy's hair. "I was trying to look for you. I was trying," Axel's lip trembled. Too little. They were too little for this. "And I should have been there sooner; I'm sorry, Ax," but the boy simply shook his head. "You're here now," he said, his tiny hands wrapped around Azriel's neck, and for a moment, Azriel just kneeled there, holding him.

Madja stepped out. A kind smile on her face. Azriel's puzzled eyes met her, and she knew that she had to put out the flames burning within the spymaster quickly, or they would all blaze in it. "Both girls are okay," she said in a comforting voice. "Y/n just needs to rest; your mother is with her." The healer reached for Azriel's cheek in a similar way Cordelia always did. "Zofie?", Azriel breathed out. "She needs you the most out of all of them now," Madja stepped aside, and Azriel let go of Axel as he pushed into the room.

The moment the dim lights cast a shadow over the shadowsinger, Nyx let go of Zofie's hand. Moving away from the bed, "Nyx being here helped her a lot," Madja said from behind, trying to earn a free pass for the boy now that Azriel was less himself than most of the time. But at that moment, he didn't even register his nephew's actions. Because all he saw was a sickly pale girl lying in bed. "Little star," he breathed as he reached out to brush some of her messy hair away from her face. He drew his fingers back momentarily because the girl was colder than any ice Azriel had ever touched.

He quickly sat down on the bed, pushing some of the covers away from her frail body and biting his teeth at the sight of her already in his shirt. He was her anchor. Empaths didn't know how to shield in the early stages. So they, in a way, hung on their lifelines—a person, an object—something that could swallow their overwhelming emotions and fill the cracks up with calmness. Azriel scooped Zofie up with one hand. The girl let out a pained grumble. Mother only knew how many suppressed emotions were clawing at her from within.

"You're okay," Azriel breathed as he moved her up and onto his chest. The moment the two of them came into full contact, Zofie let out the deepest sigh. And that was when it struck Azriel. For the very first time, he could feel the emotions pouring through him. Fear, worry, anger, and helplessness but he welcomed it all regardless. He would endure just so she could get better. Just so she would no longer have to hurt. He would do it over and over again for her. Until she was strong enough to protect herself. And even when she's older and in control, he would still never decline her request for help.

A tiny, cold finger fisted into his shirt, making Azriel look down. Here she was. His baby girl. Her golden eyes were slightly dazed, but she still held a firm gaze as she looked up at him. "Azzy," she breathed, the spymaster's lips curving upward instantly. "Hey, my little star, who dared dimming your light, huh?" Zofie's face scrunched up instantly. As if she was slowly plunging back into the events of the past few days. Then her eyes grew big. "We... had a card made for you... it," she muttered, her gaze falling into the room as she searched for Axel. If was way to sweet that that was the first thing she worried about. "I saw it. It was very pretty," Azriel muttered, right as Axel crawled onto the bed beside them. "You saw it?" Zofie's voice was barely a whisper, and Azriel could feel the worry building up within her. "You both know it would be an honor if you two called me dad or papa," Azriel said, looking at the two kids who gaped at him. "Just no father; it sounds too old-fashioned." Azriel barely managed to speak his last words as the sea of tiny libs was all over him. The spymaster wrapped both of the wings around the overly excited younglings. Savoring the sound of their squeals and giggles.

"So, we're a real family?", Zofie asked as her head hit Azriel's chest. His fingers instantly reached to twirl around the ends of her hair. Axel bit his lip as he looked at Azriel. "Mommy, papa, and us," the boy breathed, his eyes glistening, and Azriel had to blink a couple of times more so he wouldn't start crying in front of them. But Axel frowned slightly, "You do love Y/n, right?" Here was that protective thread that was never far behind. "They are mated, Ax," Zofie huffed tiredly. Azriel was about to ask how she knew that, but then she probably not only felt but also saw emotions. "So we were always meant to find each other?", Axel mused. Azriel reached out for the boy, and he wasted no time snuggling into Azriel's side. "We were always meant to be a family," the spymaster breathed, kissing both of their hands softly.

"You too can catch a cold, you know?", your voice made Azriel flinch slightly as he turned to you, already moving to get up from the patio in his mother's backyard. "You shouldn't be standing," he huffed, his shadows instantly swarming all around you. That's how it has been ever since you woke up. You had to admit at first that you needed his help to do everything. He carrying you around places. He feed you and helped you stand. You had drained so much of yourself that it had taken a toll on your body like nothing before.

"It's been weeks, Az," you breathed as his arms wrapped around your middle, taking most of the weight from your feet. "I won't get better if I just lay in bed," you grumbled. "Last time I checked, that's exactly what would happen if you stayed in bed," Azriel huffed. You twisted in his embrace. "You should be resting as well," you said, cupping his face. It all felt almost like a fever dream. It almost felt as if time had moved way too quickly. You didn't even remember how you ended up back at Cordelia's house, where you four had been living ever since. Azriel shook his head. "I can't sleep," he muttered, shaking his head. "Every time I close my eyes, all I see is you or the kids dying," you pressed your forehead against his. Letting him breathe his emotions out. "But we are all here," you mumbled, looking up at him. Azriel's face hardened. "By pure luck and all because Rhys...", "Azriel, you can't blame him forever," you sighed. That was another thing that had changed. Azriel had stepped down from his court duties. He had cut off his family completely, and with that, you had a bone to pick. "Watch me," he breathed, turning away from you, but you quickly cupped his cheek. "Make it my winter solstice gift," you muttered, "At least think about it." Sighing, you pressed your head against his chest as your arms snaked around his torso. Azriel kissed the top of your head, still weary of the nail scabs on your scalp.

"How does your head feel?" he muttered softly. It was torture watching your hazy eyes the first time you woke up. You just lay there, staring at the ceiling. No reactions. There were no signs of any awareness to your surroundings. But Azriel didn't budge, regardless. "It's okay, I still can't summon though," you muttered against his chest, savoring his heat. The morning wind wasn't as pleasant now that winter was around the corner. Snow not only covered the mountains but also in the city. "You drained yourself raw... for me," Azriel's arms squeezed around you just a tag stronger. "I'll do it all over again," you mumbled, kissing his chest right over his heart. Azriel shook his head and said, "I'll do everything so you will never have to go through anything like that ever again. Two times too many", he said softly. You knew he meant it. Meant all of his words every time he spoke them. And even more so, you knew that no matter what you said, his burden, at least for now, would not get any lighter. So you pressed yourself closer to him, pouring love through the bond, hoping to warm him from the very inside of his heart.

"No, go left," Zofie huffed, her finger pointing to the exact location where she wanted Axel to hang the ornament. Axel clapped his little wings as he looked back at his sister, who had inspected the placement, before nodding her head. "That's where I put it five minutes ago," the boy grumbled as his feet hit the wooden floor. "It was not," Zofie huffed as she continued to match different ribbons with the glass ornaments. "Females," Axel said, rolling his eyes. "I heard you," Zofie said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Hey, you two. No fighting", you said from the sofa, Azriel had practically tied you to. You knew that it was a huge deal for them. They had never celebrated the solstice properly. let alone in a loving family. "He's being rude," Zofie said, sticking her tongue out, and Axel quickly crossed his arms over his chest, "Look at what I need to deal with." You let out a chuckle. If only they knew how lucky they were to have one another when these moody swings hit. "I think you two are long overdue for a hug," you said softly, pulling the blanket off your legs as if you had triggered the alarm shadows swirled into the room, making you roll your eyes. Don't you dare, you muttered into the bond. You couldn't even see him, but you knew the smug idiot had a smirk on his face. We made a deal. You promised to lay down for the evening. You shook your head. I've been glued to the sofa for the past two hours. Get over yourself, mother hen.

"Go on, a little hug won't hurt you two," you urged the two younglings, who both huffed and puffed till they were wrapped up in one another. And the look on their faces changed. There was only happiness there. "Why do we only call grammy these days?" , Zofie tilted her head to the side, "Uncles don't visit, and we don't get to play with Nyx." A warm smile spread to your lips. Leave it to little Zofie to worry about everyone who was a part of her little world. Don't even think about it. Azriel warned you, but you quickly ushered him out of your mind.

"Papa is a bit upset with them," Gods, you will never get used to the joy of referring to Azriel as their dad. "There were some misunderstandings that involved all of us," you softly cupped both of their faces, "And because we respect Azriel's emotions, we will support his choice... for now." "So, he's brooding," Zofie stated bluntly, making you laugh a little. "I think so, sweetheart", you had conversations with them about what happened. Mother, they have been sleeping with you and Azriel ever since. Too afraid of the dark, of little sounds, of monsters that fly through the door.

You could pull yourself through the pain, but watching them suffer in the aftermath was more torturous than feeling the last bits of your power leave your body. "But...Granny said that high lady likes lemon biscuits, and it's her birthday soon," Axel said while helping Zofie tie up the knots of the colorful threads. "We should make her some and go visit them," Zofie said, clapping her hands. Her emotions were fragile these days. Azriel would cut his sulking hunts in the forest short, almost daily. Winnowing back just so she could recharge once more. I said, Don't think about it. Azriel grumbled once more. "Go, pull up the bowl. I'll come help you shortly", you smiled at the kids who had been halfway through the door before you had even finished your sentence.

A part of Azriel knew that he should have moved on some time ago. His anger had simmered down. He wasn't even mad. But sometimes disappointment was stronger than anger. He had felt neglected by them all when he was desperate to get with Elain, and he could look past that. You were a whole different story. You were his mate. Azriel had gone to hell to protect Feyre, all because she was important to Rhys. He and Cassian had almost died for her and for what?

"I knew I would find you here." As if summed, the Lord of Bloodshed stepped out in the clearing. "When have these trees grown so big?", he muttered. "Please, no small talk, or I will winnow out of here," Azriel grumbled, pulling his daggers out of the tree trunk. "It's good to see you; you know it's no fun now that I'm the funniest in the family", Cassian nudged Azriel's shoulder, but the spymaster didn't share the enthusiasm.

"How's Nesta?", Azriel watched as Cassian's face lit up at the mention of his mate. "She started showing," he muttered, his eyes filling up with proud tears. They had all been so supportive of Feyre's pregnancy. It was a family thing. Sure, the dad got the worst spells of protectiveness, but even Cassian and Azriel would find themselves growling at people they didn't trust around her. Now Azriel couldn't help but wonder if Cassian felt more vulnerable because he didn't have two sets of extra eyes looking out for the mother of his child.

"I miss you, you know," Cassian breathed, right as Azriel threw one of his daggers at his makeshift target. "Rhys is also practically going bald. Come on, man, you owe him at least one conversation." There had been times when the spymaster thought he would never pay his debts to his high lord. But that had been then. "I have nothing to tell him," Azriel grunted. "Now you're being a little bitch," Cassian said, moving to stand right in front of his brother, "They fucked with the report Rhys got. Do you seriously think that he would play with the lives of your family?"

Azriel's turned away abruptly. "We've all been in positions where we thought we'd never see our mates again, so I know that you are pissed off," Cassian pulled at Azriel's shoulder. "Fuck it; I can be mad alongside you if you want. But we are family. We talk shit out". Azriel slowly felt his walls crumbling. They had spent almost their whole lives together. For years, it had just been Cassian and him when Rhys got taken under. A choked-out cry slipped past the spymaster's lips, and Cassian didn't even waste a single moment as he wrapped Azriel in his arms.

It was the laughter that greeted him as he walked through his mother's door that, just as all the times before, set all of his worries free. Azriel stopped by the door. Closing his eyes for a second. Letting the sounds surround him. Fill in his broken parts. This was home. You were his home. Azriel had barely managed to get his muddy boots off when the most excited shriek filled his ears.

"Papa," and here it was the most beautiful thudding of tiny feet against the floor. He caught Zofie mid-jump as she moved to squish his cheeks. "Cold," she muttered at Azriel's rosy cheeks. "Been outside for a while, bug, that's all," he reassured her. She seemed seemingly pleased with the answer as she shimmied out of his grip, opting to pull him by the hand instead. The silent command was clear, so Azriel didn't even fight it.

And there was his other half of the heart. Both covered in flour from head to toe. "What happened to making cookies?", Azriel chuckled slightly. Axel hopped off the table, his hands leaving white imprints on Azriel's black clothes. The look merely lasted a moment, but the mischievous laughter that left both of the kids said it all, and within minutes, Azriel was chasing them around the kitchen. "Duck!" Axel shouted, and Zofie quickly hid beneath the table. Yet her laughter didn't die. Axel jumped off the chair, throwing the last bit of crumbly dough at Azriel before he too took shelter beneath the table.

Azriel turned his attention to you. Leaning against the counter, biting your lip, trying not to laugh. "Excuse me, miss; maybe by any chance you've seen rebels running around," he asked in his spymaster tone, making you snicker. "Two rebels?", you put your hand on your chest as Azriel approached you. "Kind sir, they could be far away from this kingdom by now," hushed giggles sounded from beneath the table. Don't call me that when kids are around. Azriel growled into your mind, making you smirk slightly. Got it, sir kink it is. You purred back right as Azriel wrapped his arms around you, spinning you around. You shrieked and giggled as you held onto his muscular arms for support. "Help, help," you pleaded, right as Azriel playfully started to nibble at your neck.

"Don't threaten, princess; help is here." Axel's little voice sounded from behind, right as another lump of dough hit Azriel in the back of his head. More giggling erupted right after as Azriel swirled back to catch a glimpse of their next move. "You all were allies; how did I not realize?" he mumbled in a half-dead tone. Scooping up a handful of flour and throwing it at the two little monkeys, who were already climbing the counter, fearlessly leaping off it and into Azriel's arms. The spymaster twirled them both around. Trying to escape their sticky hands but finding no luck there. His stomach hurt from the laughter, and for the first time in a long time, Azriel felt so alive. The nagging fears had been shoved in the back of his head, locked under the heaviest iron door. Upfront was the side of Azriel he never thought he would get to show.

The two kids huffed for air in between their giggles, and Azriel slowly lowered them down. "You two win," he muttered, watching the two of them high-fiving one another while lying on the kitchen floor breathlessly. "You got some dough here," you pointed to the side of Azriel's face. "Oh, just there, nowhere else?" he teased back, earning a shake of the head from you. You walked closer to him, picking the bigger chunks out of his hair. "Still attractive?", Azriel asked, holding onto your hips. "Yeah, not bad", you shrugged your shoulders. Azriel pulled you in quickly, brushing his lips against yours softly.

"We have dinner tomorrow with the rest of the family," he muttered quietly, making your eyes grow big, "Bumped into Cassian; he invited us. " You could tell that he was still so hesitant, but he was trying to open his heart once more for his first family. "That's amazing; we already made cookies, and a cake is sitting in the fridge." Azriel raised an eyebrow, "You made a cake?" You simply hummed, "Let's just say I knew that I was going to get you there one way or another." You shrugged, making the spymaster shake his head.

Slowly, he pushed the strand of hair away from your face. "Hey, you two," Azriel said softly. "It looks like it's bath time for you." Axel helped Zofie up, but the girl only huffed, "Just say that you want to make out with her," the girl muttered, making Azriel choke on his breath as he hit his chest a couple of times while coughing. You let out a chuckle, feeling your cheeks heating slightly. "Come on, Zo, the faster we go, the faster they will finish," Axel waved a hand in your and Azriel's direction before dragging his sister through the door.

"They are too smart for their own good," a couple of Azriel's shadows followed them through the door as well. "So, are we going to make out or what?", you asked, catching Azriel off guard slightly before he sat you back on the counter. "I'm proud of you for accepting the dinner offer," you said as you brushed your fingers through his messy hair. "I can't promise I won't growl and scowl," Azriel let out a sigh. "That's okay, I'll scratch your ear," you smiled, and Azriel instantly moved to tickle your side.

"Can I tell you a secret?", Azriel muttered against your ear. You draped your hands over his shoulders loosely, nodding your head. "But you can't tell anyone," he said in a serious tone. "Okay, what is it, Az?", you frowned slightly. Azriel tilted his head to the side, watching you for a heartbeat. You felt a burst of warmth rushing through the bond. One heartbeat. Two. "I love you," Azriel muttered, "I love you so much. You are a part of me now." You smiled at him softly, brushing the skin on his neck. "Well, I should tell you a secret too," you breathed, "I love you too, with the darkest parts of you, all of you, with no exceptions." Azriel leaned in, brushing his lips against yours, igniting the flame within you even more. "Close your eyes," the spymaster breathed against your lips. You hummed, packing his lips one more time before pulling away. Azriel felt his heart drumming against his chest.

Of course, you trusted him fully. But something about him having full control over you like that sent a shiver running down your spine. Then you felt it. Azriel gently picked up your left hand. There was a moment of stillness, and then a cold metal brushed against your skin. Your eyes snapped open right as Azriel placed a beautiful band on your finger. An oval blue sapphire was glistening in the kitchen lights. "Az...", you breathed out, your voice shaky. "I know that I should ask first, then put..." he breathed out with a chuckle, but you leaned forward, smashing your lips against his. It was way more needy and rushed. It was almost hard to see where your own emotions started and Azriel's began.

"I didn't ask," Azriel pulled away breathlessly. "You don't have to; yes, it's a yes," you muttered. The glistening light in your eyes was enough to make him melt. He was yours in so many ways. In ways, even he still didn't know about. "Let's call it an early mating ceremony gift," he muttered, "Plus, it will keep other males from looking at you for too long." "Az," you breathed out, shaking your head and looking down at your hand as your eyes filled up with tears. "Thank you for allowing me into the middle of your darkness," you muttered. As a tear slipped down your cheek, Azriel carefully brushed it away, "Thank you for shining your light upon me, love."

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @stressed-reader

[cakerybakery]

Adamsapple week story for the Teeth prompt.

Lucifer’s mouth was achey. Thousands of years and he still wasn’t use to the feeling, the instinct that over came him to chew. He gnawed on the ice, the cold helped numb the soreness but he needed to sink them into something for substantial, to grind them down during this time of rapid growth. To sharpen them against something harder and less yielding.

It was a shame he didn’t have time to get something with a more satisfying crunch. A nice thick bone, something like a femur. A big hip joint from wrath cow would be nice. He could practically taste the marrow and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth.

The intercom buzzed to let him know his ten o’clock appointment was down from heaven. He grabbed his cup of ice and made his way down to the nearly empty lobby of the embassy where the delegates were waiting.

Heaven insisted on inspecting Charlie’s hotel before agreeing to an official meeting to discuss halting the exterminations. To see how it works and if it could work as a long term solution.

“There you fucking are. We’ve been waiting.” Adam huffed angrily. He was leaning against the empty reception desk while Sera and a set of exterminators stood by.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and tossed another cube in his mouth. Crunching down hard and wishing it was something more. Maybe Adam’s throat. Shut his bitch mouth up.

He ignored the first man and his little friends in favour of holding out his arm to Sera for her to take.

She smiled warmly, “good day, Morningstar.” Sera was always so formal. She must be in a good mood to have merely addressed him as Morningstar instead of The Morningstar.

“I’ve told you dear sister, call me Lucifer.”

Placing a hand on Lucifer raised arm she agreed and allowed herself to be lead to the front doors.

They were barely into the blazing heat of hell’s sun when armed sinners sprung out.

“What the fuck? It was a trap!” Adam shouted accusatory. He and his exterminators rushed to protect Sera from the holy guns.

They barely took more than a step when a sinner started to pull the trigger and Lucifer burst past them.

He landed on the arm, pushing it toward the ground and the holy bullet buried itself into the steps. Lucifer launched himself towards the sinner’s neck. He dug one clawed hand into the sinner’s face, shoving the head back with a crack and sunk his other hand into the sinner’s chest. With a quick snap he buried his teeth in the sinner’s neck and tore.

He could hear the crunch of bones. Feel the elasticity pull and snap of tendons. Taste the hot blood as it sprayed from the sinner’s neck.

The crowd barely had time realize the shot rang out when Lucifer used the crumpling sinner’s body to launch himself at another.

She screamed as his unhinged jaw snapped closed around her head. He twisted and she could scream no more. He spit her severed head straight up and caught it between his aching teeth to mash the bones of her skull.

A third sinner pointed a gun at him.

Lucifer spit the crushed skull out and turned himself into a serpent to zip along the ground and fly at the sinner’s arm. He bit down and turned back into himself, the combined momentum and weight allowing him to twist and tear the sinners arm off at the joint. He tossed the arm into the air, unhinged his jaw again and swallowed the limb whole.

The remaining sinners had scattered. Rightfully fearing for their lives.

He didn’t bother to wipe the blood from his face. Turning back to the delegation he apologized for the rudeness of his people. Lucifer didn’t bother to step around the corpses on his way back up the stairs, only pausing to grip the leg of one of the corpses and pull it off.

He snapped the leg off at knee and tossed the lower part to the ground. Using his claws he tore away the muscle and flesh so he had a fresh bloody bone to gnaw on during the walk.

“Holy shit.” Adam’s axe was still out and the guards raised their weapons at him.

“By all means,” Lucifer opened his arms wide to invite them to try their luck, “my teeth still hurt and I’d be happy to use your bones instead to soothe the ache as they grow.” He snapped his jaw at them and Sera commanded her people to stand down.

When he offered her his arm again the smile was less easy and she had to use her fingers to avoid the blood stains.

They strolled through hell like that. Sinners sprinting away or offing themselves to escape becoming another stain on Lucifer’s jacket.

By the time they reached the hotel Adam was huffing under his mask. He whined, “We couldn’t have flown or better yet, fucking drove here?”

Between the heat and the walk, even Sera was perspiring a tad.

Lucifer turned back at Adam and grinned. It had the desired effect and Adam took a step back. Even through the mask and sweat from the journey Lucifer could smell the tang of fear and- he grinned, arousal.

Adam had always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Too curious for his own good. He only lived so long due to Adam’s busy hands, never idle enough for the devil to use, to temp him into danger. Adam was too busy raising kids to raise hell.

But now that’s he’s dead, what bigger rush was there than slaughtering sinners? Apparently, it was watching the devil slaughter sinners.

He could work with that. Lucifer had been lonely these last several years. Maybe instead of sinking his teeth into a femur, tonight he’d gnaw on Adam. Lick the glistening sweat from Adam’s heavenly body and listen to him scream as he was marked.

“My people seem to have forgotten their place if they dared to attack my guests.” Lucifer left Sera’s side to face Adam directly. “I thought a stroll through hell might remind them of my power over them. That they live because I do not deem them worth the dry cleaning.”

Making eye contact with Adam, his forked tongue darted out and he licked a long dribble of blood from the bone before cracking it open with his teeth.

Lucifer discarded the end and shards before sucking on the opened end of the bone for the marrow.

Adam spiked arousal and Lucifer circled him. A shark on the hunt for his prey. He reached around with his free hand and gripped Adam’s generous side, digging his blood stained claws in just enough to sting.

“You must be hot in that outfit on a day like today. Why don’t we go inside. The hotel has air conditioning.” He pushed Adam along, up the hill towards the hotel. “Perhaps if you’re interested you could rest in one of the rooms for a while.”

Out of earshot of the others Lucifer hissed. “I can show you how sharp my teeth really are.”

[dailyadventureprompts]

So I was joking around on this post about the lack of alignment in Baldur's gate when a shiver ran down my spine. My badtake senses were tingling, and lo and behold there was this waiting for me in my notifications:

Now this is fascinating because this user obviously has an axe to grind: We were specifically talking about a notoriously clunky and contentious ruleset in d&d that no one really likes, not even the current developers, and this person decided to go off like I was the architect of the modern godless age.

Checking their blog shows we're dealing with someone with some baggage, as what appears to at first be your bog-standard cocktail of conservative cottage-core and LOTR memes gives way to Jordan Peterson clips, antichoice rhetoric, and more than a few posts that veer into Q-Anon nonsense.

What leaks through most however (especially if you're like me and spend a lot of time examining the whys of ideological brainrot) is that despite how much this person wants a peaceful life in the country what they REALLY want is to die for a righteous cause: Their blog name is a biblical reference to mass death and the punishment of the wicked, they're WEIRDLY invested in the final charge of the Rohirrim, and simmering below the pretty pictures of forests and mountains and animals and guns is the sense that the world is an evil place and the only thing that's going to fix it is a cleansing wave of violence.

Normally I wouldn't go so in depth like this but I thought since we were talking about morality systems and where they might lead us it'd be a good idea to get a read on where this criticism is coming from.

Now onto my rebuttal: My desire to see the alignment chart left behind along with other clunky rpg systems like Thac0 has no bearing on my real life stance on morality. You shouldn't NEED a fantasy rolplaying game to tell you that you're objectively good in order to soothe your IRL moral anxieties and you going off like this when I suggested changing something tells me that this is a bit of a safety blanket for you.

The fact that you can't tell the difference between a story with no moral compass and one that allows for diverse opinions on what could be considered "moral" tells me that you're terrified of doing the wrong thing and that makes you easily exploited by people who cloak themselves in righteous authority and call you a good boy for wasting your life in their service. I was like that too once but let me tell you it's far better to question who decides what rightness is than to follow it blindly.

Lastly, on the topic of morality codes in rpgs, I'm not against characters or the stories they're in having morals, I just think it's silly for there to be only nine codified (though extremely contradictory) options for how those morals can be expressed. Why hold onto a system that's too flawed to be useful ?

[artbyblastweave]

So one thing that irks me about discussions of the NCR is the idea that "they're flawed because they're trying to be America again. And Being Too Much America is what caused the War" without differentiating between the vast buildup of Nuclear Weapons and Geopolitical tensions, versus, like, being a republic and having a large-scale central state.

What's your thoughts?

I think the NCR circa New Vegas is textually intended to be repeating the USA's downward spiral. They're in the process of recreating the core dynamics of pre-war America- overconsumption of resources driving imperialist expansion, capture of the government by moneyed interests, and a prolonged conflict with a peer power that's suffering under similar expand-or-die pressures- but they're constrained from a one-to-one recreation mainly by the fact that they're working with a post-apocalyptic resource base, with the scraps left over from the last people who went down this path. Peanuts compared to the Sino-American war, but likely as close to that situation as the post-war-world is logistically capable of producing.

You see bits of this from the NCR perspective all throughout the game. There Stands the Grass is propelled by projections of incipient famine in the NCR due to rapid population growth, and you see the beginnings of this in Flags of Our Foul-Ups- O'Hanaran was sent to the Army by his family to lessen their food burden. Chief Hanlon's very first line is about how the NCR is overtaxing most sources of freshwater within the core territory, and he recounts how tiny groups of settlers backed by NCR logistics were able to take and hold a well in Baja against scores of locals; IIRC there's a cut event at Camp Golf itself where you'd see NCR rangers doing the same thing to Mojave locals encroaching on their water supply. The White Wash demonstrates that the NCR's sharecropping setup in outer Vegas operates at the expense of the locals, who can only get the water they need to support their own crops via subterfuge. If you assume that Heck Gunderson's underhanded Brahmin-farming empire in Beyond the Beef is supposed to parallel the real-world problems with the sustainability of beef farming, you start to get a sense of where all of that water is going and what structural problems (Heck Gunderson) might be in the way of allocating those resources more sustainably. There are likely more examples of this storm on the horizon that I'm forgetting.

As a result of all this, there's a level on which I think introducing the Tunnelers in Lonesome Road as a dangling White-Walker style Looming Apocalyptic Reset Option hanging over the west coast was gratuitous, not because it's Avallone grinding his axe with the idea of society rebuilding, but because it's simply redundant with the political situation already depicted in the base game- If you want the NCR to have collapsed by a future installment, just establish that they weren't able to put the brakes on in time and devolved into a completely dysfunctional oligarchy that collapsed under its own weight!

(Now, as a final note, one thing preventing me from fully committing to this take is that we honestly don't have a fantastic sense of what day-to-day life looks like for the average citizen in the NCR heartland, which I feel is kind of important. Because if the textual situation is supposed to be that the resource crisis is due to misallocation due to interests capturing the government, I like that a lot better than if the situation is genuinely intended to be that there are Just Too Many Goddarn People, because that's like. Lazy and Malthusian and leads to the usual ugly conclusions pretty quickly. More and more it's looking like the upcoming Fallout TV show is leaning into the recent decline of the NCR as a plot point, so, uh, fingers crossed they stick the landing when it comes to fleshing that out?)

[imtrashraccoon]

I dunno why this one seemed to take me longer than the previous one to write as they're pretty much the same length. Meh, it's a solid chapter with plenty of comfort and a teensy bit of spice.

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Last Day.

Bad Sansuary: Free Space - Scars

Word Count: 2,889

Feat. Axe & Killer!

Today was another difficult one. You couldn't put your finger on an exact reason why but you were just feeling down. You'd decided to just wander around the castle to see if one of the boys wasn't busy. Surely hanging out with someone would help cheer you up.

Just as you passed by the kitchen, you heard some clattering inside like someone was inside doing something. You poked your head in the room to find the exact person you had figured would be cooking right now.

Axe was in the middle of chopping up a small mound of potatoes, presumably to go with dinner later on, and he was already almost through what was there. You couldn't help but admire how dexterously he wielded the large knife that he was using and how perfectly uniform each of the cubes were.

He seemed to be in his element and you almost thought about just leaving so you wouldn't disturb him. He glanced up before you could though, apparently having sensed that you were staring. You had no idea how he kept doing that.

"hey, lil' chip," he greeted. His permanent smile stretched wider into a more genuine one and the corner of his good eye socket crinkled slightly.

"Hey Axe..." You went to go sit down on one of the barstools that were on the other side of the kitchen island where he was working. Folding your arms on the counter, you propped your chin on them so you could watch him work.

"somethin' the matter?" he asked, raising a bonebrow.

You hummed in a non-committal way.

"if ya need to, ya can tell me anythin'." He finished chopping the potatoes and moved them into a pot of water before setting them on the stove to boil.

"I don't know where to start really."

He started getting some spices out of the pantry. "are ya feelin' sick?" he called over his shoulder.

"No, I feel fine... A little tired though I guess."

He emerged from the pantry with a cinnamon stick, the container of peppercorn, and a couple of other ones that you didn't know the names of off the top of your head. He got out a mortar and pestle from the cupboard to start grinding them up before speaking again.

"i'm guessin' you're not sleepin' well then?"

You shrugged, "Nightmare still has to knock me out with magic so I guess not."

Axe grimaced and shook his skull. "that's better than not sleepin'... i could look into some remedies if ya want, besides actual medicine anyways."

"Sure, it couldn't hurt."

You found yourself following the grain of the finished wooden countertop with your eyes for a couple of minutes while Axe continued with whatever he was preparing.

Only when he set a mug with something hot that smelled spicy on the counter next to you, did you look up at him again. He sat down on a bar stool next to you and gently stroked your hair. You continued to sit there quietly while he tried to comfort you with a little bit of affection.

Hearing footsteps, he looked over at the doorway and quirked a bonebrow at whoever had entered the kitchen. You glanced over as well only to find Killer leaning against the wall.

He smirked and tilted his skull in what you thought was curiousity. "what's up?"

Axe hummed before answering, "she's havin' a day..."

Killer nodded in a knowing way and strode up to the kitchen island. He leaned against it and scanned your face thoughtfully.

"aw, you poor thing," he murmured. "maybe we could cheer you up?" He glanced over at Axe who only shrugged in response.

Killer took a seat next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leaning his skull against your head. "i found a new joke if you want to hear it, cutie."

"Is it a good one this time?" you grumbled.

Rather than answer, Killer decided to go ahead and tell the joke. "what do you call a bear with no teeth?" He only paused for a few seconds before adding, "a gummy bear."

You rolled your eyes. It was another lame one.

He tried again. "two men walked into a bar...you'd think at least one of them would've ducked."

Axe chuckled quietly but you could only bring yourself to exhale through your nose.

"did you hear about the claustrophobic astronaut? he just wanted some more space..."

You buried your face in your arms and groaned. "Your jokes are always bad, Killer..."

Axe quietly clicked his non-existent tongue and you heard the distinct sound of bone hitting bone followed by Killer letting out a surprised yelp as he jerked his skull away from you.

"what'd you do that for, big guy?"

"you're bein' annoyin'," Axe rumbled and took one of your hands in his much larger one.

Killer huffed and turned to properly look at him. "let's see you tell a better one then?" he asked in a challenging tone.

Axe paused for a moment as he thought it over, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing circles over the back of your hand. "ok, here's one... how many telemarketers does it take to change a light bulb?"

You looked up at him in a curious manner. "I dunno...how many?"

Before he responded, Axe glanced at Killer, who only shrugged, although he also looked interested in the answer. "only one, but he has to do it while you're eatin' dinner..."

You couldn't help the small smile that flickered over your face. Maybe it was because Axe was the one who'd told it or maybe it was just an actually good joke, you didn't know.

Killer let out a quiet hum of approval, "not bad..." He glanced at you and tilted his skull as he studied your facial expression. His smile fell slightly and he scooted a bit closer to you when he failed to find whatever he was searching for.

"it's not like you to be this quiet... so, what's bothering you?" he asked in a more serious voice.

You sighed and straightened up slightly. While you didn't want to talk about it and risk making them feel bad, they were still concerned about you.

"Well, besides the whole going through literal Armageddon, I guess right now I'm struggling with guilt. Like, I'm the only one who made it out alive and...it feels like I could've done something to help others."

"nightmare wouldn't have rescued anyone else, you know. he helped you because he took a liking to you like we did," Killer said in a matter-of-fact tone. He chuckled and glanced at Axe before adding, "In case you forgot, we're not exactly good people, angel..."

"ya told me yourself that ya weren't close with your family and i know ya didn't have any other close friends. so who would ya have even tried to save anyways?" Axe asked.

"I...don't know..." you murmured and looked down at your hands. "Even though I wasn't particularly close with anyone, I guess I'm just sad that everyone I ever knew is gone."

Both skeletons were quiet for a moment.

Axe finally put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "it's okay to feel this way, lil' chip... it'll probably be rough for a while, but ya aren't alone in this."

"you can come to any of us if you need to talk, okay?" Killer added. "we'll probably understand as we're all survivors of our respective worlds."

You glanced at him and then at Axe, who nodded solemnly. From what they'd told you about themselves, you knew in your soul that they were telling the truth.

The mug of what you thought was tea had cooled off a little bit and you finally took a sip. It was sweeter than you'd expected but not like a sugary sweet. It was also spicy but in a way that made you feel warm and cozy.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment as the warm, comforting liquid made its way through your system. It was easily the best tea you'd had in a while even though you generally preferred to drink coffee.

Looking over at Axe, you gave him a warm smile. "This is really good. What's it called?" you asked.

He seemed really pleased by your reaction and the corners of his permanent grin quirked up at the edges. He couldn't seemed to restrain his joy and gave your head a gentle pat.

" 's called chai tea. i can show ya how it's made later if ya want more."

You nodded enthusiastically and turned your attention back to the tea, relishing how warm the mug still was against your palms.

"the thing with trauma, is it's somethin' that ya nearly always carry with ya... sometimes 's pretty obvious and other times it isn't," Axe said with a hum.

When you glanced at him, he gestured to the crater in his skull. "i never told ya how this happened i guess..."

You shook your head and he let out a small sigh. He drummed his claws in the countertop for a moment while he collected his thoughts.

"...i don't like to talk about it much," he muttered. You noticed the edges of his deep red eyelight were quivering and he started to reach for the right side of his face, but stopped himself and clenched his fists on the counter.

"You really don't have to if it's that painful..." you started to say.

"no." Axe interrupted and turned to look at you sharply. "i want to tell you. 's not somethin' that bothers me as much anymore..."

You nodded and took another sip of your tea, giving him your full attention. Killer's arms snaked around your waist as he practically sprawled out on top of you. He only smirked when you gave him an unimpressed glare but didn't let go.

"you remember the famine i told you about, right?" When you nodded again, Axe continued, "that wasn't the only issue we had to deal with. the core, the thing powerin' the entire underground, started to fail. i used to dabble with technical stuff and so i stepped in to help..."

He grew quiet again and clenched his fists. "my brother also stepped in to help a friend, who used to be the captain of the guard, rule the underground after the king died... they got into an argument over somethin' trivial, i forget exactly what, and started fightin'... i tried to break them apart but she was too angry to see reason... that's how this happened..."

You furrowed your brows with concern. You'd tried to be careful not to stare at the crack in his skull in the past as it seemed rude and you'd never asked about it either. Before now, you had just thought he'd received it from an accident or from a fight. Although, knowing that a friend was the one who'd hurt him was far worse than either of those scenarios.

"That's awful... I'm amazed you managed to survive and come out of that in one piece."

Axe shook his skull slowly. "not quite... memory's not great anymore and talkin' used to be a lot harder too."

Killer hummed and his hold around your waist loosened a bit. "i changed too," he murmured. "after everything i've been through, my soul became heavily warped and now it's always visible."

"I was always curious about what that was." You briefly glanced at the red target that always seemed to float over his sternum.

"i'm still surprised you never asked me about it...most people can't help but stare." He shrugged and looked away. "i don't mind anymore but it's still my soul, you know? it's still embarrassing when people draw attention to it or touch it without asking first. granted, most aren't alive that long to even focus on it..."

"I can understand how that must feel, being so exposed that is, but I can't imagine having to deal with that all the time," you remarked and squeezed one of his hands in an effort to comfort him.

On second thought, you reached over and placed your other hand on one of Axe's. "You're both so strong... I... Sometimes, I don't think I deserve to have friends who care so much for me like you do." You swallowed in an effort to keep yourself from crying and took a steadying breath.

"Just...thank you... Thank you for always being here for me and trying to make me feel better. Thank you...for sharing your scars with me..."

Axe placed his other hand on top of yours and gave you a gentle smile. "ya don't have to have visible scars to be valid, lil' chip. we'll always be here if you ever need us..."

Killer nodded vigorously in agreement. He chuckled and ran his other hand over the back of yours. "even when you're feeling down, you're still quick to try and comfort people, huh, angel cheeks?"

You rolled your eyes and jerked your hand away from him. "Look, I can't help it... It's basically second nature to me, okay?" you grumbled.

Axe stood up suddenly, causing you to glance over at him, wondering if he was upset. Instead, he seemed happy and held open his arms in the universal gesture for a hug.

You didn't hesitate for a second and squirmed out of Killer's grasp, which he let out a small whine of disappointment over. You didn't care though and immediately went to embrace Axe.

He responded by picking you up and engulfing you in one of his signature bear hugs. You couldn't help giggling from the gesture and tried to wrap your arms around him, but couldn't even span halfway around his ribcage.

"aw, don't leave me out!"

You and Axe both looked over at Killer, who was doing his best to look forlorn. You didn't know skeletons could manage to look so pouty but it was somehow effectively tugging at your heartstrings.

Axe grunted and you swear he rolled his eyelight. "you've been hangin' off of her this entire time so ya don't get to complain..."

Killer stood up and marched over to the two of you. "so? she's too adorable not to hug..." He winked at you and to Axe's frustration, managed to worm his way into the hug.

You didn't mind in the slightest and tried to hug him back, but it was a bit difficult to do so as you were technically pinned between them.

Killer was suddenly inches from your face and his permanent grin morphed into more of a smirk. "i know something that could make you even cuter though~"

You felt your cheeks heat up and you tried to create some distance, but you literally couldn't move. He closed then closed the gap and pressed a kiss against your cheek, with no regard for how embarrassed it made you.

"there we go~" he purred.

Then, one of Axe's large hands grabbed Killer's skull and basically pried him off of you. He tried to reach for you with grabby hands, but Axe was holding him just out of reach. Thankfully, the giant of a skeleton safely set the beanpole on the ground, but then he adjusted the way he was holding you so that you were more out of reach.

"tiny menace," Axe growled, although he didn't really seem angry, just mildly annoyed.

Killer crossed his arms. "i resent that, you're literally the only one taller than me."

"still tiny."

While it was kind of funny watching them bicker, you weren't about to point out that you were shorter than all of them. It was still slightly frustrating that they could just leer over you whenever they felt like it.

Axe clicked his non-existent tongue and shifted his attention over to you. "you're not mad he did that, right?" he asked.

You shook your head but avoided looking directly at Killer for fear of blushing even more. No doubt he'd make a face or do something stupid just to get that sort of reaction out of you.

"i can't let him get away with that, ya know?" His tone was a bit more gruff from before and being this close to him caused it to vibrate throughout your whole body.

"I...uh..." You couldn't seem to formulate a coherent response and you were certain your cheeks had turned a bright pink.

With a low chuckle, Axe pressed a skeleton kiss against your other cheek. As soon as he let go, you ducked your head against his ribcage in an effort to hide how flushed you'd become.

"well that's one thing i can agree with ya with," Axe hummed. "she's definitely cuter this way..."

You weakly punched his shoulder and grumbled under your breath. They were going to be the death of you one of these days, you were certain of it.

Things would be okay eventually or at least, you were confident you'd be able to say that one day. You had actual friends now who would see you through thick and thin, which was certainly more than you had before. You had plenty of time to make many more happy memories too. Maybe you could even make some more friends? Hopefully some more "normal" ones but you weren't betting on it...

[richincolor]

3 YA Black Horror Books for Spooky Season

Now that spooky season is in full swing all around me, it's time to turn to some spinechilling reads. It's been an amazing year for Black horror in YA, from an anthology (out October 17th!) to exciting new books that will keep you up all night long. Here are 3 YA horror books with Black protagonists for you to check out!

I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me by Jamison Shea

There will be blood. Ace of Spades meets House of Hollow in this villain origin story. Laure Mesny is a perfectionist with an axe to grind. Despite being constantly overlooked in the elite and cutthroat world of the Parisian ballet, she will do anything to prove that a Black girl can take center stage.

To level the playing field, Laure ventures deep into the depths of the Catacombs and strikes a deal with a pulsating river of blood. The primordial power Laure gains promises influence and adoration, everything she’s dreamed of and worked toward. With retribution on her mind, she surpasses her bitter and privileged peers, leaving broken bodies behind her on her climb to stardom.

But even as undeniable as she is, Laure is not the only monster around. And her vicious desires make her a perfect target for slaughter. As she descends into madness and the mystifying underworld beneath her, she is faced with the ultimate choice: continue to break herself for scraps of validation or succumb to the darkness that wants her exactly as she is—monstrous heart and all. That is, if the god-killer doesn’t catch her first.

From debut author Jamison Shea comes I Feed Her to the Beast and the Beast Is Me, a slow-burn horror that lifts a veil on the institutions that profit on exclusion and the toll of giving everything to a world that will never love you back.

You're Not Supposed to Die Tonight by Kalynn Bayron

At Camp Mirror Lake, terror is the name of the game . . . but can you survive the night? This heart-pounding slasher by New York Times bestselling author Kalynn Bayron is perfect for fans of Fear Street.

Charity Curtis has the summer job of her dreams, playing the “final girl” at Camp Mirror Lake. Guests pay to be scared in this full-contact terror game, as Charity and her summer crew recreate scenes from a classic slasher film, Curse of Camp Mirror Lake. The more realistic the fear, the better for business.

But the last weekend of the season, Charity's co-workers begin disappearing. And when one ends up dead, Charity's role as the final girl suddenly becomes all too real. If Charity and her girlfriend Bezi hope to survive the night, they'll need figure out what this killer is after. Is there is more to the story of Mirror Lake and its dangerous past than Charity ever suspected?

All These Sunken Souls: A Black Horror Anthology by Circe Moskowitz (Anthology editor) -- Out on October 17th!

Welcome to the Dark. We are all familiar with tropes of the horror genre: slasher and victims, demon and the possessed. Bloody screams, haunted visions, and the peddler of wares we aren’t sure we can trust. In this young adult horror anthology, fans of Jordan Peele, Lovecraft Country, and Horror Noire will get a little bit of everything they love—and a lot of what they fear—through a twisted blend of horror lenses, from the thoughtful to the terrifying.

From haunted, hungry Victorian mansions, temporal monster–infested asylums, and ravaging zombie apocalypses, to southern gothic hoodoo practitioners and cursed patriarchs in search of Black Excellence, All These Sunken Souls features the chilling creations of acclaimed bestsellers and hot new talents, with stories from Kalynn Bayron, Donyae Coles, Ryan Douglass, Sami Ellis, Brent Lambert, Ashia Monet, Circe Moskowitz, Joel Rochester, Liselle Sambury, and Joelle Wellington.

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Hi, I'm new here. Sorry if you've already answered this question; I'm new here. I saw your post about the Biden-Harris nuclear plan. I've long-since been loosely optimistic about nuclear as a petrol alternative, but knew that more reactors in the imperial world intrinsically means more bombs as well. Reading through articles here is starting to confirm some suspicions. Have you talked already about serviceable energy alternatives, or is the solution basically to just dismantle capitalism, or?

the IEEFA PDF on the most recent (third) reblog is pretty clear that renewables (wind, solar, and batteries) are the viable/cost effective mid-term strategy. these are not without their own problems (land use, resource consumption, and again batteries) but they are a better option than nuclear. it also points out that full-scale nuclear is more cost efficient than SMRs which i can't dispute, and i wouldn't theoretically have a problem with it if it weren't for the capitalism. you don't gain anything by scaling them down, and IEEFA makes the excellent point that privatized off-grid SMRs do not maintain a consistent baseload supply in the way that full-size on-grid reactors do

waste handling is a sticky problem but it's exacerbated by profiteering and corruption (unfortunately not magically solved by a revolution, either). more reactors only inevitably means more bombs in a war empire, but eliminating capitalism doesn't magically resolve all geopolitical strictures nor does it necessarily equate to eliminating war. i think it would be foolish to build them now and kick the can down the road about seizing power from capital ("you're handing the climate change machine a new 50 year megawatt generator," i keep saying). my main axe to grind is that nobody is taking any of it seriously. that's rude to somebody's kids and i'm still mad it's been done to us. if you want new reactors, know the deal with the devil you're signing, so that you will know when they slack off on their end of the bargain and start doing ohio nuclear bribery incidents and progressively abdicating decommissioning responsibilities for san onofre by reselling it over and over. saying this has made a shocking number of people very angry at me, i assume because their worldview rests on the existence of a magical solution. well, there isn't one. sorry

i'm a degrowth communist. i don't want new reactors. so, i think we should start asking where we can reclaim parts of the energy budget from industry instead of building out more capacity, but, lol. not so long as the democratic party exists, i'm afraid. they sure have been "ironclad" about that! there may be capability to persuade the political establishment toward degrowth but i'm not optimistic, since they love parading around a 0.01% solution for a 100% problem (like carbon capture). because it allows the illusion to continue

(you would think the most energy intensive sector of industry would be computing, for the amount of time we spend talking about energy consumption for crypto, ai, and datacenters, right? well, it's chemicals. i just found that out while fact checking the post. paper also still consumes more than computing, apparently. (third of the top three is "oil/coal products" which is a bit nebulous and i would have to dig into the report the EIA is referencing, MECS 2018, to figure out what's going on there. surely some of that is going back into energy production, right? so, energy production is one of the largest energy consumers? i guess that tracks, but i haven't dug. i assume it also refers to other products.) i think this was in the post but i also love to say "It's Lawrence Livermore National Library Energy Flow Sankey Diagram Sunday!" and point out that 67% of energy in the US is lost to waste heat, labeled rejected energy in the diagram. obviously that runs up against laws of thermodynamics but surely we could be doing better than that)

that was all about energy. you asked about bombs. unfortunately i have to tell you we are likely not going to live to see disarmament. maybe if we stop building reactors, disarmament will become inevitable, at best, in a hundred years. maybe if we seize power from capital it could be administrated more quickly. but, for the foreseeable future, mutually assured destruction is the only thing preventing them from being detonated. thank god for the rosenbergs

[nobedofroses]

December 5th

pairing: Pero Tovar x reader

warnings: fluff, some light smut (thigh grinding)

words: 1.2k

a/n: as always, a bit longer with Pero and it's also set in the vague past. inspo from the quote prompt "I totally definitely did not just watch you chop wood outside” from @toomanystoriessolittletime's winter writing challenge ❄️

Full List

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“If you drop one more egg, I’m going to make you muck out the stables instead of him,” your sister, Martha told you, looking pointedly between you and the hired hand that was currently outside chopping wood. 

You wrenched your attention away from the way his body moved to look at her, heat creeping up your neck. Still, you avoided, “Instead of who?” 

“Oh, do not try to deny it, I’ve been watching you watch him for the past half hour. And you’ve lost one egg and only barely managed to save another you’re so distracted,” she impugned. 

“You have two dozen chickens, it’s not as if we are hurting for eggs,” you muttered, sheepish at having been caught. 

“Regardless, I will not have needless waste in my house because you are staring at the hired hand.” 

“He has a name,” you reminded her, thinking that Pero deserved to be referred to as such. 

“Fine,” Martha acceded. “Stop trying to picture Pero’s nude body and get back to baking. 

Your mouth dropped open in shock that she would even say that aloud, but Martha just laughed loudly and ushered you away from the window. 

___

An hour later, with the cake in the oven and Martha keeping an eye on it, you had been sent to collect the eggs and skim the milk for cream. Skimming the cream was one of your favorite chores, quiet and meditative. The shed it was kept in had an open doorway that faced the house, but from where you were standing, all you could see was the stacked firewood. 

And then a couple minutes later, you could also see Pero, back again with the ax and a cord of wood over his shoulder. He made it look effortless, but you knew it must be ridiculously heavy. The thought of what else he could do with those strong arms made you shiver. 

You lost track of what you were doing for several seconds, just watching him starting to do… whatever it was he was doing. You weren’t paying much attention to the technicalities. 

So you also didn’t notice when Pero looked up and caught sight of you through the doorway. Which meant you just about jumped out of your skin when he spoke. “I hear you are making an almond cake.”

You gasped loud, hand coming to your heart and splashing some of the milk. Luckily it wasn’t the cream or else Martha would have your hide. 

Pero’s eyes got wide and he looked so sweet and sorry you couldn’t help but adore him, “I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you.” 

You stood, having actually finished the skimming while you were distracted, and you wanted to move on before you embarrassed yourself. 

“It’s fine, I was just woolgathering. Um, yes, almond cake, do you like it?” you asked, getting the subject back on track and moving out into the open air. Hopefully the chill would help you think straight. 

“Yes, it reminds me of home,” he told you softly and when you looked up, his warm brown eyes were deep, just asking you to fall into them. 

“What are you— I mean, you were cutting wood earlier, so why are you cutting more now? Do we really need that much?” you laughed awkwardly. 

“This morning I was chopping the logs into pieces and now I am splitting them so they are the right size for the hearth,” he explained, gesturing with his large hands and you got distracted again, wetting your lips as you looked at them. 

Pero noticed your stares, had noticed them for weeks but was waiting for you to decide what you wanted to do. After all, you were the sister of his employer and he was only planning to stay in the area for a few months longer, getting food and board on the way to his own brother. William had a farm with both of their names on it waiting just a mountain away from where you lived. 

In Pero’s distracted daytime fantasies, he pictured wedding you and taking you home with him, coming home to you everyday. 

And in his nighttime fantasies, he pictured what you would feel like under him, how sweet you would taste, the sounds you would make when he touched you. Like how he wanted to touch you now, with the hands you couldn’t stop staring at. 

The two of you were broken from your separate albeit related reveries by the loud squawk of a chicken. 

“I— I have to go collect eggs!” you said, unnecessarily loud and hurried away. 

“Yes, of course,” Pero replied, watching you practically run away from your desire. 

___

That night, long after Martha and your brother-in-law, John, were asleep, you snuck downstairs, avoiding the creaky steps, because you needed one more sliver of the spice cake. Martha had finished it with her famous orange marmalade icing and it might’ve been the best thing you ever tasted. 

The fire in the hearth had dwindled, leaving just coals, but you didn’t need the light to find your way, you were more than familiar with the layout of the house. What you weren’t expecting was to trip over a pair of boots as you walked past the chair closest to the fire. 

For the second time that day, your hand flew to your heart and Pero apologized for scaring you. 

“I must have fallen asleep reading. The fire is low, I should build it before I return to my quarters,” he said, referring to the loft that was on the far end of the house from the other bedrooms.

As he spoke, he relit the candle he must have been using to read, just about an inch of it left but enough that it became very clear that he was fully dressed and you were in your white cotton nightgown. It wasn’t revealing, but it was intimate enough that you felt heat creep up your chest and neck in embarrassment. 

“I don’t know, it feels pretty warm in here to me,” you don’t know what possessed you to say that, but his soft, sleepy eyes and the warmth of his face in the candlelight had your heart beating faster. 

“Well maybe you are feverish, because I am cold,” he said with a chuckle. 

“Maybe… maybe I can help you with that,” you told him and took a step forward. And then another. You leaned forward and then, with his help, climbed onto his lap. 

Your hands rested on his shoulders for balance, one knee between his and the other pressed into the side of the overstuffed chair. The skirt of your nightgown had to be rucked up by his rough hands, and you held your breath as you waited for a rip, but he was surprisingly gentle. His hands came to your hips when he was done and you settled your weight down, breathing in deeply when his thigh pressed against the most intimate part of you. 

“Pero,” you breathed, and then he was kissing you. 

His full lips pressed into yours, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he tugged you closer until your chest was flush with his. The thin fabric of your nightgown let him feel your warmth easily, and he moaned into your mouth when he felt your hips move against his thigh. 

He helped you along, moving you in a slow grind until you had to pull away to gasp a quiet whine of his name and your body shook in his arms.

After a couple shaky breaths of calming yourself down and trying to regain some semblance of dignity, you asked, “warmer yet?” 

Pero laughed lightly and kissed your cheek, “Almost, but I think I want more of your heat.”

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hEY btw I think that Cult of the Lamb except instead of any of the actual stuff please focus on God!Dream being married and fucked by loyal devoted worshipper Punz who kills in his name and tells Dream how beautiful he is as he makes him cry on his cock

I think that God Dream should be absolutely obliterated carnally

I think that he saves Punz from death and in turn Punz spend eternity loving him

I think Punz, right before he's executed, seeing the axe swing down, is brought before Dream, who takes an interest in him and decides to spare him On A Whim, and in turn Punz must dedicate himself to Dream. Dream expects "dedication" in maybe the form of occasional prayers and thanks, maybe a small altar, and believes Punz will ultimately just be grateful to be alive but not be happy to be tied to Dream.

He Is Very Wrong

Punz is the only person to touch Dream in hundreds of years

After Punz shows off how much of a crush he has on Dream (he is covered in blood and murdering people in his gods name and gifting Dream pink roses and so, so reverent) Dream offers to show his appreciation for Punz's worship in turn.

And Dream very much treats it like he's being High and Mighty to this small mortal who doesn't understand a lot of things, he's giving him such a Gift, allowing him to touch his God

Listen Dream is expecting to hard dom in this scenario, and for a bit he is!!! Because Punz is so, so utterly enthralled, willing to let Dream take whatever he wants, absolutely down for that. He just also really likes those little flashes of vulnerability, likes being able to serve Dream and make him come, likes Dream writhing with pleasure and know that he's brought it

Punz is a monsterfucker and this is not something Dream accounted for in any situation when he really should have. Honestly. Dream tries to keep his appearance Semi-Human when they fuck but he has trouble controlling it when Punz fucks him so well he can't focus

the claws the eyes the horns and teeth the demon wings

Punz is having a good time. Dream is also having a good time, but like, unexpectedly

I'm trying to bring my thoughts together to write coherent smut. I don't know if I'll succeed but so far I got

"Dream milks Punz's cock for a bit, smiling like a lazy cat and asking if it feels good, if his follower is satisfied, has his god attended to him? And Punz tells him how it feels, tells him how good Dream feels,

But he brushes his hands over Dream's human form and asks if he's felt the same, do you feel good, my lord?"

listen to me

please consider that Dream fucks Punz on his cock, doesn't let him come, but gets him right on the edge, then slicks Punz up and straddles him and sinks into him, letting Punz fill him, talks about how gracious he's being as he shimmies and tightens around them until Punz is bucking and coming inside him. Lazy and relaxed and magnanimous, polite, mmms and ahhs as he grinds his hips down, prolonging Punz's orgasms and getting some pleasure for himself

and Punz gets to come a few more times, Dream will allow himself to be filled. It feels nice, its so rare for Dream to indulge and allow for such closeness. Really, he should be thanking his dear worshipper for giving Dream the opportunity to engage in this act. Its so rare that Dream touches someone without violent intent (so rare that someone tries to touch Dream, although he would never frame it that way.)

But he's thanking his worshipper now by allowing him to come again, sweat dripping down his brow and loud moans that sound so pretty falling from his mortal's lips

and Dream this entire time has been feeling low level pleasure, but he's Not Mortal and doesn't Need It so like, while he finds sex enjoyable and fun, he's not particularly prioritizing his own pleasure here. Its that aroaceness thing where "oh sex, nice" but also if its not brought up you forget that it exists and masturbation is a thing people do. thats the best way I can explain it here. Dream is experiencing a rare stimuli that feels nice but not essential. he's not like, being a martyr or anything by focusing on Punz.

But also Punz would very much like to bring pleasure to their God, and Dream not getting off is Not Good Worship You See

obviously Punz needs to ask if Dream feels good, if he's been attended to. And Dream laughs and teases his worshipper for not properly enjoying their gift, and Punz is reverent when they cup Dream's cheek and say its a gift to serve you, my lord

and I think that Dream startles and shifts as Punz grinds his hips up, stops gripping the sheets (because Dream fucked them so hard its all they could do to hold on and ground themselves to sanity) and place their hands on Dream's thighs so they can angle themselves better inside him, and yes, Dream could feel that lovely sweet spot inside him on occasion, it was fascinating how good it felt, but suddenly Punz is hitting it every single time, and Dream can't stop the moan he lets out

Dream feels his form shift, his claws tear into the sheets, but Punz only praises him, breathless, you're gorgeous, beautiful my lord, does it feel good? Am I pleasing you, my lord?

When Dream's voice cracks, it gains something otherworldly, losing his composure, ah ah ahs as he falls forward a little, flushing because Punz is so completely awestruck watching him. Dream whimpering when he feels Punz twitch inside him, brushing against his prostate, biting his lip and unable to scold himself for making such a noise because Punz seems intent on fucking him until he can't think about propriety. Dream moaning louder and louder, hearing my lord but for a moment it sounds like my love

Punz stopping suddenly and Dream feels his sanity untangle a thread, panting heavily while Punz suddenly grabs his hand (still clawed and blackened and inhuman) and presses a kiss to the palm, sits up and kisses his arm, his shoulder, his collar.

you're taking liberties beyond your station. Dream tries to keep his voice even, but its shaky.

I'll never take anything you don't want me to, my lord. Punz murmurs. May I kiss you?

And Dream allows it. Dream lets them, on the condition that its Only Once, Only The One, Don't Be Greedy, and Punz is tender, treating it like the gift it is, and Dream moans into their mouth as they rock into him, starting up again

Punz has already come inside Dream before this, when Dream pushed him over the edge. So he's already been filled, it's dripping down his thighs

And maybe he lifted himself off of Punz's cock before, to show off how Punz had left him a mess. Let some of it leak out of him before dropping himself back down

Or maybe he just kept going, and Punz is now fucking his come back into Dream

[desmothene]

still thinking about angels & demons.

I was watching and thinking about how I wasn't really sure I enjoy the type of media that leans super hard into elaborate conspiracy theories (like the illuminati) anymore, bc of how they're currently used to drive certain desired political outcomes through a narrative of fear and cartoonish evil (see: Qanon).

but see, the movie specifically plays into that - the illuminati *aren't* real (or they might have been real once based on the clues but certainly aren't now) and in reality it's someone with an axe to grind against progress that is puppetmastering the illusion of an ancient enemy coming to attack the Church in order to scare people into unity of purpose.

to do so, Father Patrick McKenna (the camerlango) studies the historic illuminati well enough and closely enough that he can lay a convincing trail for the supposed expert, Robert Langdon. He is obsessed enough with this historic enemy of the church that he mimics them close enough that there's actually a trail to follow. commitment to the bit x5000, for basically only one person to play the game (Langdon) and use him to sell the lie of an illuminati return.

and tbh I think this twist does save the movie for me rather than it actually having been a case of "somehow the illuminati have returned." bc Ewan McGregor as Patrick's balls to the wall fanaticism and belief is what sells it.

this man was so committed that he mutilated himself. he's almost named the next pope but as far as I can tell that wasn't actually part of his plan - there was no guarantee he would survive the jump from the helicopter, and honestly I don't think he had intended for the bomb scare to come that close. but when it did he puts himself on the line to ensure the bomb goes off not inside the Vatican. the OG plan wouldn't have actually given him power outside of the prestige he gains from managing the situation - someone else would still be named pope. and then when he gets found out, he sets himself on fire and his last words are to God. this man did not falter a beat the entire time, regardless of whether things are going to plan or not.

and it's his fanaticism that re-suspended my disbelief, because there absolutely are some crazy people like that running around right now.