#we should clean out the rest of his minions

[average-hua-cheng-fan]

i think about this thumbnail every day

[daniels-swagger]

Try On Feminine (Danny Wagner x Reader)

Author's note: first fic I'm posting :) It was gonna be a smutty josh one shot but my last post inspired me to write this blurb! I wrote it in 20 minutes so it's kinda shitty but yea.... Danny is so charm coded!!!

Word count: around 600? Just a little blurb :)

Warnings: fluffy fluffy fluff!!! Use of "baby", reader wears makeup, chronically online daniel low key.... Danny is a sweet boyfriend and also a girly girl!!! DANIEL IS ALSO A CHAPPELL ROAN FAN!!!! Tehehe!!!!

Summary: you put makeup on your boyfriend :)))) pretty much it lol might do a part 2?? Where I pick out an outfit for him??? 🤭

“Does this feel alright?” You stood over Danny, who was seated in your vanity chair. You were meticulously applying eyeliner to his waterline. The soft hum of your Carole King record filled the room.

“Mhm,” he replied, careful not to move. You smiled and set the pencil aside.

“How about a little wing?” You giggled. “Not as in Jimi Hendrix, but as in eyeliner.” Danny chuckled as you shook your liquid liner to mix it up.

“Go for it, baby.” He gave you a playful smirk. “Just don’t turn me into a minion... I’ve seen those videos...” The two of you laughed together.

“I would never, Daniel,” you said, clutching your imaginary pearls in mock shock.

His base was flawless, perfect. A touch of bronzer, blush, and highlighter gave him a bronzed and glowy finish. The way his freckles peeked through the makeup was particularly charming. Just before applying the eyeliner, you had created a warm brown smokey eye, topped with rose gold shimmer and a bit of highlighter in the corners. He looked absolutely gorgeous, more than words could express. You were thrilled that he embraced his own femininity and allowed you to play dress-up with him.

“Close your eyes for me...” You applied the black liner with a steady hand, crafting a sharp wing. “First try, baby!” You pumped your fist in triumph. He laughed.

“Don’t celebrate too soon... you still have the other eye...” You resumed work, replicating your movements on the other side. You giggled as you made a slight mistake, using a Q-tip to clean up the edge. You picked up some wispy lashes, letting the glue dry slightly before placing them over his own, gently pressing them into place. You stepped back, checking for symmetry, and sighed.

“This is as close as I’ll get. That was genuinely nerve-wracking....” The two of you chuckled. “Alright, what should we do for the lips? We’re almost finished...” You sifted through your makeup drawer.

“How about that pinky-red shade you usually wear?” he suggested. You raised your eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.

“A man of good taste.” You smiled, grabbing your usual lip liner, lipstick, and gloss. You applied them with precision, cleaning up the edges with a Q-tip. You signaled him to rub his lips together, blending everything seamlessly. You stepped back to admire your work, beaming with satisfaction. You turned the chair towards the mirror. “What do you think?”

He took a moment to scrutinize his reflection, examining every detail. A genuine, heartfelt smile spread across his face.

“I look... beautiful,” he said softly. “I look like you.” He glanced up at you from the chair. You grinned and placed a kiss on his forehead. He leaned in to kiss your lips, but you gently pushed him away.

“Oh, right... gloss...” He giggled. “Are you sure you didn’t just turn me into you?” You playfully rolled your eyes. He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. You pulled back slightly and looked up at him, caressing his cheek tenderly.

“Such a pretty boy... We should do this more often.” His eyes sparkled, and he smiled widely.

“Can we try Chappell Roan makeup next?”

“You're too cute... of course!” The two of you giggled. He drew you in again, and you rested your head on his chest, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Thank you, baby. I really feel like i get to be myself when I’m with you, when we do things like this...”

“Anything for you, Daniel...”

Tell me what you guys think about this :D

[cinnbar-bun]

Dio w/ an S/O who Celebrates Ramadan

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~750

Notes: Muslim!GN!Reader. So yeah, obvy talking about religious beliefs and practices- if those make you uncomfortable please feel free to skip <3

A gift for my friend @over--heaven enjoy my darling!!!

We all know Dio, our proud and very devoted brother, mashallah. 

Okay, okay, being serious. Dio definitely did read up about different cultures and religions during his time in Cairo. Catching up has never been so informational, and Dio views these reading sessions as a way to formulate a plan. 

Yes he has canonically read the Quran (in the OVA) no I’m not arguing with this leave me alone!!!

Especially since he was in Cairo, he was exposed to Muslim culture not only through his reading, but quite literally outside his doorstep. He didn’t make many appearances outside (duh, vampire) but on the occasions he did, he was taken by the customs and celebrations by some of his neighbors. 

Well, the people here certainly know how to have a nice time compared to England. 

I would say he’s participated in many events or Muslim customs, maybe not out of sheer devotion or anything, but mostly due to entertainment and intrigue. He tends to people watch and view how some of the Muslims pray or how they behave with one another. 

He is aware of what Ramadan is, and since he reads the Quran, I can imagine he’s got a pretty good grasp of Islam as well as the Arabic language in general. 

It is quite ironic that Dio of all people had a partner who was Muslim, but he honestly doesn’t mind. All humans are the same to him, so he doesn’t hold one higher than another.

So, when you begin to prepare for Ramadan, he’s understanding (somewhat, he’s still Dio and he still will be a menace as usual). He’s pretty curious how devoted and disciplined you’ll be. 

Makes an off-hand comment how he’d be willing to participate with you, just to experience it alongside you.

Might even pray beside you if he’s feeling up to it (although he gets tempted to do it more when he sees you doing it). 

His sleep and eating schedule is pretty messed up as a vampire, I assume, so I like to think he’d be doing the opposite and eating breakfast during iftar and dinner during suhoor. It’s a funny thought and whether or not you decide to follow his flipped schedule is up to you. He’s just gonna be Dio throughout. 

He’d occasionally get philosophical with you about your faith and feelings. He likes to hear your interpretations of your faith and compare it to his own/what he’s read. He’s not sure if Islam itself will help him achieve heaven, but the discussions he has with you are rather thoughtful. It’s very rare for him to take what others say to heart, but for some reason, he can’t help but be enthralled by your words (we all know the reason is because he loves you). 

He does like you feeding him dates and fruits when it is time to break your fast. Heck, he might even feed you back if he’s feeling up to it. 

Although that’s kind of what Dio does during the month. He likes to bother you or annoy you for attention, but often will return the favor by making it so you can rest easily and not bother with things like cooking or cleaning. The minions can handle those tasks, but you are needed beside him in the bed for cuddles (I mean, serving him faithfully, my bad). 

Part of his studying of the human condition just leads him to be appreciative of you and your place beside him. Dio tends to make a show of it that you should be grateful he’s spoiling you like this, but truthfully he’s got a soft spot for you that is reserved for only you. No one else gets the level of care Dio gives you. 

He’ll hold off on ‘tempting’ you much during this month. He originally was going to tease you to see if you could be tempted, but after he saw you were steadfast, he softened up and quit trying to mess with you so much. He still will, but prepare for him to be a lot gentler with you. 

Soft kisses on your forehead, him gently rubbing your hands in circles with his fingers, and lots of cuddling. Again, stuff he only does with you. 

All in all, Dio is considerably more giving, quiet, and reflective during the month of Ramadan with you. It’s a new level within your relationship that he wanted to humor you with but ultimately finds rewarding in many ways.

[lying-hyperion-jackass]

dreadful need in the devotee

the dark urge x enver gortash

rating: explicit | word count: 1517

notes: canon typical violence, female reader, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv

summary: durge wants to celebrate a job well done

You stalk down the hallways towards him. His simpering minions practically dive out of your way, desperate to avoid your eye.

Bloody footprints mark your path. Your body thrums with adrenaline, making your limbs tingle and the blackness in your chest pulse with pride. Today you made your father proud, and he blesses you for it.

The door to the audience hall is unlocked, but when you enter you find a meeting in progress. Gortash sits at the head of the table as always, patriars and nobles surrounding him, discussing some business you couldn’t give less of a shit about. 

“Leave us,” you say as you stalk across the wide hall. All heads snap in your direction, eyes going wide at your appearance. Perhaps you could have taken the time to clean yourself up before you came to see him.

But where was the fun in that?

His mask remains in place. “Excuse the intrusion gentlemen,” he says to the table. “Perhaps you could wait in my office - there is business still to be done,” he says evenly, dark eyes meeting yours. 

You’ve reached the table now. “Ma’am if you please, we are in the middle of-” one of the windbags at the table begins to speak to you. 

As if he deserves to even look at you. Punish his insolence.

He screams as you drive your knife into his hand. Blood pools around the wound nicely, spilling onto the ornate wooden table. You pull the knife from him as he whimpers, running your tongue along the blade as you move towards Gortash.

He looks incensed, so you smile at him. “Clear the room,” he says. The rest of the noblemen scatter as you finally reach him, sliding into the chair and settling yourself heavily onto his lap. 

“No one could say you don’t know how to make an entrance,” he growls. “You have just made my life much more difficult.” 

You toss your knife to the floor and grind your hips against his. “On the contrary actually,” you say. You lean in close, bracing your arms on the back of his chair. Your lips brush his ear as you whisper, “Stelmane is dead.”

His hands come up to your hips, holding you firmly against him. “That is excellent news,” he purrs, irritation dropping from his tone. 

“Wouldn’t beg for her life. So stoic, so serious,” you say, nipping at his ear and pressing yourself against him to feel his racing heart. “But she screamed so prettily once I had my blades in her.”

Gortash slides one hand up your back to your shoulder. You pull back far enough to see his face. Eyes alight, flush creeping into his cheeks.

His eyes should show fear. He underestimates you. 

The whispering behind your eyes is drowned out by the arousal pooling at your center. You’re sticky with blood and still he slides his hands into your hair and pulls your mouth to his, licking into you, swallowing your moans.

“Tell me more love,” he says against your lips, golden nails scratching against your scalp. You let your own hands wander to his chest, reaching for any exposed skin.

“I drove my blades through her guards one by one, right into their necks so no one could hear them scream,” you whisper between heated kisses. “She was alone when I found her. I could practically smell her fear.” You shiver, grinding your hips against his and you can feel him now, hot and hard beneath his robes. 

“I questioned her first, cut off little pieces when she gave the wrong answers,” you smile, leaning in to sink your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. He keens and rocks up against you. “Her blood was so sweet,” you continue, kissing your way up the line of his throat. “But not nearly as lovely as yours.”

Gortash stands, lifting you with him. As your feet hit the floor he’s already pushing your trousers down. You throw your head back and moan as his fingers slip between your folds, wet and waiting for him. 

You seat yourself on the table behind you, grinning at him as you use one foot to knock him to his knees between your spread legs. 

“Cheeky little pup,” he says, cold metal fingers spreading over your bare thighs. “You think you’ve earned such a reward?” 

You thread your fingers through his hair and yank him towards you. “Always.” 

His eyes stay locked with yours and leans forward and licks a stripe up your center. His tongue works against your clit and you pull harder on his hair, grinding against his mouth. You can feel his muffled moans vibrating through you.

He digs his claws into your thighs hard enough to draw blood, and it sends a chill up your spine. So few have ever been permitted to make you bleed. 

He does not deserve to have you this way. 

Any hesitation is once again washed away by his tongue finding its way to your entrance, lapping up the wetness accumulated there. He slides his mouth back up to suck hard on your clit and you groan. “Gods yes. Make me cum,” you growl, catching his eyes again.

There’s a gleam in them as he redoubles his efforts, snaking one finger inside and curling it just right. It’s one of the three without the claws, but part of you wishes it wasn’t, wondering what the sharpness would feel like inside you.

There isn’t long to consider it as he stretches you around a second finger, and it’s enough to send you careening over the edge, clenching around him and rocking against his face. Your thighs are so tight around his head you wonder if he can even breathe. You find you don’t really care.

Your body tingles as you fall back against the table. Gortash stands, looking smug, mouth shiny with your release. His eyes rake over you, devouring every detail. You decide to reward him, unbuttoning your shirt and wrenching it open until you’re on full display.

His mouth quirks into a smile and he leans over to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you arch up into him. He pulls back just enough to show you his gauntlet, your blood still pooled on the tips of the claws. 

You lean forward to lick it off, sucking on each fingertip. He watches with rapt attention. The muscle in his jaw twitches. You know him well enough to know how hard he is working to look composed. 

“Stop holding back,” you growl, before crashing your mouth against his, more teeth than lips. But it seems to get your point across. 

You find yourself flipped, face pressed into the wooden table. Cold metal presses into the back of your neck to hold you down. You laugh wildly, grinding back against him.

You get little warning as you feel his cock pressing against your slit, before he slams into you. You scream, but it's an exquisite kind of agony. Too fast, too deep, too much, but perfect all the same.

His free hand digs into your hip, pulling your back against him with every thrust. Your laugh dissolves into a loud series of moans. “This is what you interrupted me for? To get fucked on my table like some common whore?” He groans.

Glancing back over your shoulder at him, you smile. He’s still in his ridiculous robes, his hair mussed and out of place, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. “Gorgeous,” you purr at him. 

His hand twists on your neck and presses your face back against the table. You keen as he somehow fucks you faster, harder. His hand tangles in your hair and pulls you up, forcing your back to arch for him. 

It allows him to hit some new angle inside and you’re coming again, pulsing around him as he swears. He pulls you up entirely then, back pressed to his chest, hand coming around to hold your throat. 

You fall back against him, letting him hold you up as he chases his own release. “Gods you’re insufferable,” he whines against your ear and you clench around him just to hear him moan.

He pulls out then, pushing you back down against the table. You hear him working himself with his own fist until you feel his spend, warm and wet across your lower back. 

The sound of your heavy breathing echoes through the large hall. You roll over, smearing cum and blood across his table. He narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything, instead extending a hand to you.

You take it and sit up, aching in all the right places. He puts a finger under your chin and leans in to kiss you, more gentle this time, but still hungry. 

“Everything is almost in place,” he says as he pulls away. “We’ll rule this city yet.” 

There is no we. You will take his life. The only question is when. 

You silence the voice by kissing him again, content for now in sharing your victory.

[evecolourshock]

Inspired by this compilation of Beck about to/in the middle of beating the shit out of cops...

Beck knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that picking a fight with authority is a bad idea. Especially now.

But damnit, there's no one here to hold him back, and it is so glitching tempting to just start punching. He might be in the middle of a bar full of red-circuited soldiers - former soldiers? Given Clu's demise due to a badly maintained lightjet Beck totally had nothing to do with? But Pavel is right there and he reckons he could break at least the guy's nose before the others pull him off or take him down.

He hears the rumbling before he sees the Program, and half the bar very deliberately Does Not Flee from Rinzler. Beck stays where he is, mostly out of spite.

The rest is morbid fascination at this point. Anyone who knew Tron even half as well as Beck does can see the remains of the Monitor in the Enforcer, and Rinzler's more Program than monster now his master's gone. On a whim, Beck orders a drink he knows Tron enjoyed from the increasingly nervous bar staff, and slides it over when Rinzler gets close enough to notice it.

He gets a helmet tilt, and looks back calmly. Rinzler seems to shrug, and sits next to him, a slot opening up in the bottom of his helmet so he can drink.

Beck gets the unfortunately hilarious mental image of Rinzler using one of those ridiculous-looking curly straws to sip at his drink, and has to bury a snort in his own glass. Rinzler makes a questioning sound at him, and he waves a hand. "Nothing, it's fine. Just a funny but stupid thought."

He gets what's obviously an eye-roll he's been on the receiving end of enough times for it to have no effect, and Rinzler returns to his drink and relatively companionable silence.

There's a joke in there somewhere, two parts of a Program's legacy hanging out in a bar.

Chatter starts up again, and unfortunately so does Pavel. Beck doesn't even want to know why the Commander starts approaching him - he's been sending minions up all night because ordering drinks is beneath him, and Rinzler is literally sitting right there and clearly doesn't want to be bothered - but Beck just sighs and drops his forehead onto the smooth bartop.

"If there was ever a face that needs punching, it's that one." He grumbles, and gets the distinctive sound of Rinzler choking on his drink and trying not to laugh. "It's not fair - I'm gonna get banned from Mara's paint stash if I get in another bar fight, but he keeps on encroaching on me and just- look at him! Look how smug he is - at that stupid expression making him look like what processes he has have been halved. He's begging to have it wiped off his face."

Rinzler is definitely laughing, clapping Beck on the back once and spooking almost every Program in the room. Beck turns his head so he can see Rinzler better, noting in his peripheries Pavel's sort of. Stopped. And looks more perplexed than usual. "He derezzed a Bit just because he could, you know? He'd barged into the garage, threatened us, and when our Bit started to tell him off slashed his disc clean through it."

Rinzler makes a kind of humming sound, eyeing Pavel more keenly.

"I know, I know, should be thankful it was the Bit and not one of us, but. We liked that Bit. And getting a replacement... even if we could, it wouldn't be right, you know? Wouldn't be our Bit, and that's not fair to the new one."

Rinzler ruffles his hair. It's weird, but familiar at the same time.

"If he starts a fight with me, can you tell - or, not tell. Write, ping, or whatever. Let Mara know I neither started it nor threw the first punch? Self-restraint, and I promise to only break his nose a little. And maybe his jaw if he doesn't shut up."

Rinzler calmly stands up, unfolds - and yep, Beck was right so Zed can suck a Gridbug, Rinzler is Tron's height when he actually stands up and isn't compressing his own code - and puts himself between Pavel and Beck. Considering he's the only Program Beck respects enough to not try and fight around anyway, it's probably a good move in helping keep Beck still in his coworkers' good databanks.

"That works too."

In one of the clearest, most elegant dismissals Beck's seen, Rinzler simply spins Pavel around and shoves him back at the table the Commander claimed, serenely taking his seat next to Beck again.

"Thanks." Beck rests his head against Rinzler's shoulder for a nano or so, and gets Rinzler's arm slung across his shoulders. It's nice - Tron used to do that too, when he felt safe enough to relax and show affection.

Pavel hisses something, because he apparently can't leave well enough alone, and Beck goes eerily still with rage.

"Did you hear, Mechanic?" The Commander jeers after Beck's lack of reaction. "I said-"

"I heard." Beck borrows his vocal tone from Tron. Deceptively light, promising extreme violence. "And next time you insult Rinzler I'm going to break the tables with your face."

It's the first time he's laid out explicitly what he's going to do, after such a comment gets thrown in his direction. He can handle being called an easy charge point, it even used to have a degree of truth to it, but he will not allow an insult to a friend to go unchallenged. Especially not the Program he used to look up to, his mentor and the closest he had to a Creator, who molded him into who he is now.

Pavel looks at him oddly, thrown off-guard. "Which tables?"

"All of them." Rinzler puts a hand on his shoulder, and Beck laces his fingers with the Enforcer's for a moment before brushing it off. "No." He murmurs. "Not after what he said about you, or what he's implying about us. He doesn't get away with that this time."

Rinzler gently turns Beck to face him, trying to calm him down. Beck chuckles softly despite the fury simmering under his skin. It's such a role reversal. "I know, vengeance won't solve anything, even if it feels good in the short run." He recites back teasingly.

Rinzler makes a pleased sound, and-

Beck swears those orange circuits flicker white. Doubly so that the tetromino winks out - the stealth suit's true appearance, visible for a moment. His eyes sharpen, but his attention is drawn away almost as fast when Pavel approaches again.

"You reckon you can beat me, Mechanic?" Pavel taunts, and Beck shrugs.

"I've fought better warriors than you. And worse enemies." Tron, repeatedly through training. Tesler. Paige. Dyson once, though he was lucky to survive.

And Cyrus. The only Program he's fought to derez before. He barely survived that one too, Cyrus himself a formidable opponent and the bombs he favoured equipped with a deadman switch - if Cyrus was derezzed, they went off, and Beck hadn't quite got far enough away to escape the blast.

Pavel's certainly above average, and unpredictable, but... the ones Beck's won against were in leagues of their own.

"I could beat anyone in this room. Including that bloatware Enforcer you're palling around with, Mechanic." Pavel laughs, looks away, and tries to follow it up with a hit he thinks Beck isn't expecting.

The disc halts inches from his face, Pavel's wrist creaking under his hand. Beck raises an eyebrow at the stunned Commander, stepping smoothly around so he can grab the other by the back of his armour and flip him through the table on his left.

The solid veneer shatters, and so does a good portion of Pavel's cheek.

"I told you - insult Rinzler again, and I'll break the tables with your face." Beck tells him calmly - like Tron would. Getting angry means your opponent's in your head and can play you if they choose to. Being calm... you're in control, and your opponent's unsettled.

Rinzler makes a laughing sound, raspy and crackling but unmistakeable, and Beck smiles.

Unfortunately, as he knows, Pavel doesn't know when to leave well enough alone, and Beck has to reacquaint the Commander with the floor. It becomes... a bit of a blur after that.

Later, Beck will appreciate the irony in Rinzler having to pull him off a battered, beaten Pavel, will groan good-naturedly at the repair tab he's accumulated (five tables, three chairs, and a window), will pull the kicked-Bit look on Mara and bring the time he's banned from the paints drastically down from a full millicycle to five work-cycles because he didn't start this fight (just decisively finished it).

Right now, Beck only barely avoids outing himself as the Renegade, because he's got too much pent-up anger to use that economical yet showy style distinctive to the persona. He's all but wholly focused on punching Pavel through the nearest hard surface - most of the time, it's the floor. "You. Do. Not. In. Sult. My. Friends." Beck seethes, accentuating each syllable with a punch to Pavel's face.

He can hear Rinzler's growl thrumming behind him, dimly through the haze of every satisfying thud of his fist, but the Program in his peripheries has white circuits and Beck honestly can't tell if he's hallucinating or not. Wouldn't be the first time, but usually it's The Eyebrow Of Disapproval in a reflective surface before he does something ill-advised.

He's hauled up by the scruff of his suit, still very much trying to batter Pavel - lands a kick against the Commander's dock when Pavel staggers away, and he swears he did not mean to send Pavel toppling through the front window. Those are a pain to replace, and he didn't want to inflict that on the staff. Once Pavel's out of sight he stops thrashing, dangling in someone's grip dejectedly, and hears a crackling rough sigh.

Rinzler drops him in a booth, checking him over for injuries. Beck winces - he'll be feeling the damage to his shoulder for a while - but looks up at Rinzler with big sad eyes. "He insulted you. Twice."

Rinzler flicks his nose.

"Ow." Beck pouts. "Come on, he deserved it." Rinzler's circuits are still white, the tetromino absent, but Beck doesn't dare hope. He's also being stared at in a very familiar judgemental way, and-

Beck cracks. "He doesn't get to do that, okay? Doesn't get to- he's not glitching superior to anyone. I get it, shouldn't have let him get in my head, but- he doesn't get to say that and not find out what the floor tastes like. Not to- not to you. Not to any of my friends, but especially not to you."

Beck is not going to apologise for something he is absolutely going to do again if he feels the need to.

The stare-off continues a little longer, glossy black to exhausted brown, and then that sleek helmet folds away.

"Thank you." Beck hears, pulled into a hug, and his arms wrap around his mentor's shoulders. They're shaking - or maybe he is, or maybe both of them are. "Well done, Renegade."

Beck smiles - ow, he'll be feeling the split lip for a while as well - and tucks his head into the neck of the Program who taught him. "Any time."

"You're still grounded for fighting though. I taught you to hit better than that."

"Oh, come on!"

[liminalpebble]

Hi, lovely! 💕 I’d like to request a drabble featuring Magnus. Perhaps a smutty one? I’ll leave all the details up to you.

(You cannot convince me that boy isn’t a freak! He’s likely got some tricks that would make even Blanche Devereaux herself blush.)

Hello my love! Thank you for being a friend!

By sheer luck I did a raunchy as fuck Magnus fic not too long ago based on a brilliant prompt from @muddyorbs.

Her request was to put Magnus and OFC on a mission together and he finds a little vibe in her suitcase and things get spicy. It's a very hostile fucky situation and I imagine our girl as a Lisbeth Salander type because my queer little heart is in love with her too. Anyway, I hope this pleases your inner Blanche as you reach for the cheesecake.

Much love, '

Peb

Magnus Martinsson fanfic, Magnus Martinsson x OFC, smut!, one shot, enemies to lovers (well...fuckers?), hostile but very consensual fucking, Minors DNI

Word count: about 3000 (sorry...bit of a honker. Worth it. I promise).

--

Bullets

Mara rolled her black-lined eyes when the call from Wallander came in. “Mara, are you still freelancing? We really need a tech wizard on this one.”

“Cute euphemism, Kurt...points for flattery. You need a hacker who will do the dirty work so your little lapdog techie can keep his hands clean while micromanaging me.”

Wallander sighed, and quipped sarcastically, “Why, yes, Mara, I'm doing very well, thanks. How are you today? Still your charming self, I see. By the way, you're on speaker. ” He looked across the conference table to where Martinsson (said lapdog techie) was glaring at his superior for putting him in this situation yet again.

Mara's eyes scanned around her tiny apartment full of computer equipment and old band tee shirts piled in an ever-increasing mound of black cotton. In her own mind, she'd named it Mount Doom. “Oh you know, Kurt, living that rich girl high life,” she replied in a prickly tone, toking on the remains of a joint from the night before. “And whose fault is it that I'm on speaker, hm? Really. You should know better by now.” She blew smoke out in a resigned exhale, “Alright Wallander, tell that minion of yours I'm in. I'm sure he'll be delighted.”

Kurt raised his voice. “His name is Magnus, or Detective Martinsson and I'd appreciate it if you stop calling him 'lapdog' or 'minion' especially to his face as you seem rather fond of doing...”

“Alright Kurt, see you tomorrow,” she said interrupting his lecture to end the conversation.

“Charming,” Magnus groaned.

--------

“The same room?” Mara said, with an air of annoyance, hauling her bags up the hill to the rundown Motorlodge.

Martinsson sighed and said with an edge of frustration, “Yes Mara, the same room. We can't work together from different rooms.”

“Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, minion! I know that, but I thought that at least when we're taking shifts we'd have our own space to rest. It could be days! It would have been nice if the police department had sprung at least for adjoining rooms. I'd even tolerate sharing a bathroom with you if...”

Magnus stopped in his tracks, putting a hand up so she nearly stumbled directly into him. “Can you please, please not do this? I'm just here to do my job, just like you are. Can we try not to be at each other's throats?” As he said it she couldn't help looking at his throat, that pretty pale neck and sharp jawline she'd love to suck on and bite and make him moan while...

“Mara!” he barked, snapping her out of her lurid daydream.

“Okay...fucking hell. Okay,” she said, shouldering past him to enter the little 70's time capsule of a room. He fortified himself with a deep breath, stepping into her wake.

-----

“Well,” she said, between sips from the paper cup, “At least the Bates Motel has a pretty decent coffee machine.”

They both laughed and smiled to each other, faces bathed in the blue glow of computer screens; a rare truce. They had set up efficiently, both very good at their jobs and surprisingly good at working together despite the personality clashes.

“See?”

“See what?” Mara asked, sitting forward to scan the screen.

Magnus put a finger on her chin to turn her face towards him instead. “See how nice it can be when we actually just have a pleasant cup of coffee together and work?”, he elaborated. It was adorable, she had to admit...those big innocent blue eyes and golden curls making him look like a particularly naive, hopeful and, possibly stupid, angel. But from his work and credentials, she knew he was far from idiotic; just sweet, gullible, optimistic. And as he was staring at her with that sweet dumb incredibly handsome face, it just made her inexplicably angry, like his kindness was some kind of trick.

She shrugged, and took a sip to avoid looking at him, then stated, “Their hard drives will take hours to clone. It's a waiting game for now.” She yawned and cracked her knuckles, stretching up from the uncomfortable chair to flop onto the tacky paisley comforter. A sliver of orange glow from the setting sun slid between the heavy curtains, illuminating her body, and Magnus couldn't help but notice that like that, in this wash of golden hour light, she really was very pretty. Yet, for some inexplicable reason Mara seemed almost determined not to be, with her prickly personality and tent-like clothes hiding her rather nice curves. What a shame he thought.

Magnus took the opportunity to move too, rising to his feet and stretching his long arms over his head. Mara peeked at him with one surreptitiously open eye to drink in the sharp dips and muscle of his lower belly and hips as his shirt raised, ever so slightly, to show skin. Why does he have to have the body of a fucking Greek god? Jesus Christ. Eyes wondering south, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rather generous outline in his pants, she saw where his service revolver was strapped to him in a shocking interruption of black metal and leather. It didn't suit such a soft, posh, pretty boy to be toting around a gun like some cowboy. Having come from a wealthy suburb, Martinsson could never understand the grip of fear firearms held on poor neighborhoods like hers. She didn't like guns, and she didn't like the criminals or the cops who didn't seem to mind using them liberally in her childhood neighborhood while everyone else was caught in the crossfire.

“Do you have to wear that thing?” Mara asked, gesturing to the holster. “It's only me. I'm like a foot shorter than you and you could probably kill me with your bare hands if you wanted. Are there bullets in it now?”

Magnus turned to her, eyes soft and considerate. “Well, yes. It's part of the job. We have to wear them at all times on the clock and they have to be loaded. And it's not you I'm afraid of, Mara,” he said, sitting beside her on the bed, looking at his hands. “It's you I need to be ready to protect if things go south.”

Mara turned to perch on her elbow and look up at him, genuinely swooning for a second before she recovered hastily, coating it with sarcasm. “Awww...my hero. This is why they call you The Prince Charming of Ystad? And I know damn well you're afraid of me.”

“Not afraid...annoyed. Are you allergic to having a single genuine moment of humanity between us? What have I ever done to you?” he huffed sounding wounded, and standing up again to pace.

She groaned, standing up to face him, admitting to herself that she had been especially hard on him, and she couldn't even be entirely sure why (or at least, she wouldn't admit why, not even to herself). “Look, Magnus, I'm sorry, really.”

“Really?” he said cautiously, distrustful and surprised.

“Yeah..yeah, really. I've been such a bitch to you.”

As Magnus spotted the unprecedented chink in her armor, it set off the explosion of a tirade. It finally released itself from his mouth after brewing for months and he was powerless to stop it. “Listen. I don't know why you're like this, Mara, really I don't. I haven't done a bloody thing to deserve this, neither has Kurt.”

Mara felt a little fizzle of fear at the mounting growl in his voice, and she felt a little ashamed, but also aroused. It was deeply confusing.

“I wasn't socialized enough as a puppy. Why the fuck do you think, pretty boy? You're cops. I don't like cops. I don't like what you stand for...your mindless conformity...”

Magnus' voice rose, “Did it occur to you that some of them, Kurt and I for example, chose this life to protect people? Because we care about people, even people like you who hate us. And I'm not saying you don't have a good reason to hate the police, but you don't have to hate us. We're on your bloody side. And...and you think you're so clever and rebellious with your bitch act and your black hair dye....and and...your edgy jewelry,” he continued, reaching down to her open bag where there was an unusual silver necklace, with a heavy bullet for a pendant. He lifted it saying, “Oh so you don't like guns and bullets, but you'll wear them to look oh so cool and fashionable? What a fucking hypocrite...”

Mara was thunderstruck (and frankly excited) by his anger but the end of his little speech made her want to laugh hysterically. He had no idea that what he was holding was a state-of-the-art vibrator, beautifully designed to multitask as a piece of jewelry styled after an actual bullet. She thwarted her chuckle to say simply, “Please put that back. It was expensive.”

Magnus blinked in confusion, as if slapped by her unexpected response. As he moved to put it back, one of his long fingers fumbled around it, accidentally pressing a hidden button. As he dropped it back on top of her bag of toiletries, it began to buzz. The detective narrowed his eyes, mouth agape as the gears turned in his lovely head. “Is...is your necklace...vibrating. Holy shit...is that a...”. His broad Cheshire cat smile unfurled across his face, as he began to chuckled in long breathy laughs.

Now it was her turn to be angry...not to mention mortified. She darted her hand out to switch it off, crossed her arms, and stormed to the other side of the room. “Oh this is rich,” he purred out in his deep delicious voice. “Why did you bring that? And when on earth did you expect to have the time and privacy to use it?”

She yelled, “That's none of your business! And I thought we'd have separate rooms.”

He moved closer, now standing directly in front of her. She felt that looking into his bright eyes might sear her like a laser, so she settled for looking forward at his chest. Then his long soft fingers, tucked themselves under her chin, raising her eyes to his, as he asked in a deep intimidating voice, “Mara, why did you really bring that with you?”

Fuck. She could see why he was so good at interrogations. This is the kind of man it was no use lying to. She sputtered, “Be...because I know it might be a few days and...”

“And?” he prompted, taking a step closer.

She fumbled nervously, “And...and...because I knew I'd be trapped with you strutting around with your perfect fucking body and your pretty fucking face and your sweet fucking disposition, and I'd have to take care of myself if I wanted to think straight...okay?”

His smile dropped even as the heat of excitement coursed through his body. Magnus could see she was flustered, defenses down, nearly to the point of tears. Finally it occurred to him; so this is why she was so mean, so prickly and defensive towards him... because she liked him so much. She was harboring a hopeless school girl crush and assumed all of his kindness towards her...his goodness...was some kind of joke to mock her. She ignored the reality that he paid attention to her because he liked her too. She excited and intrigued him, but that all turned to bitter frustration that she would never let him near her. He just kept encountering all that barbed wire around her and finally quit trying to breach it...until now.

“Mara,” he said her name reverently like a prayer, in a low gentle whisper, full of empathy and kindness. He moved his hand from where it still was propped under her chin, to cradle her face. Neither of them could say who moved first as they crashed together, but before they knew it they were latched onto each other's hot mouths, kissing, licking, biting, barely able to breathe and neither of them minded.

He moved to her neck, sucking it hungrily then growled into her ear, “You think that little gadget could hold a fucking candle to me?”. She moaned in response, sliding her shaking fingers to begin unbuttoning his shirt while he worked at his pants and his holster. He was peeled out in moments, looking absolutely mouthwatering in nothing but his underwear. Mara tore her shirt and bra off over her head, then pressed the swell of her breasts against his firm torso, while her lips rejoined his. Her leg swung around his waist as she licked up his throat, bit his earlobe playfully and said, “Pull my hair. Call me a bitch again...”

He was panting as he said, “I...didn't call you a bitch...I said it was a 'bitch act'...”.

She gathered his curls between her fingers and tugged while she bit at his lovely throat, drawing a nearly-pornographic moan from the young cop. “I said, call me a bitch, you pedant.”

It was adorable, how he struggled to get the word out. He was the type of well-bred man who had trouble calling a woman anything other than “Miss”, which made it even hotter when his eyes darkened and his mouth twisted as he growled out, “You delicious bitch” and wrapped his big hand around her ponytail, yanking sharply. She was grinding against he thick erection, teasing him, desperate for him, until he stopped her with a bruising grip on her hips and met her eyes. “You called me a lapdog, huh? Well, there's only one lap I'm interested in being in,” he said in a velvety purr as he tugged her pants and panties off of her, pushing her onto the bed completely naked, as he snaked between her legs, biting and sucking ravenously at the soft flesh of her inner thighs, breath ghosting against her soaked pussy. She wove her fingers into his hair with surprising gentleness as she sighed and writhed while he kissed his way up.

When he licked the first firm line up her slit she arched her back and gasped out, “Holy fuck,” while he chuckled against her skin and she could feel his smile.

“Mmmm...you're even more delicious than I imagined,” he confessed, and the idea of him jacking off, thinking about this only aroused her more.

He began to suck delicately on her clit and swirl his tongue, bringing her close to the brink in mere moments. She lifted his head gently and said, “Wait...wait.”

His big, bright eyes met hers, solicitous and concerned as he panted out, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...yeah amazing,” she said, smiling, “I just want to come on your cock. I want to feel you inside.”

“Oh darling...” he purred as he crawled farther up the bed to kiss her, sharing her own taste with her. He stood up for a moment to slide his boxers off, revealing his cock (which was just as gorgeous as the rest of him), stroking it lightly in one big hand. “Jesus Christ,” she gasped when she saw it, big and flushed with a tantalizing drip of precum. She crawled over to him and taking it into her mouth hastily, dying to savor it. He groaned in ecstatic surprise at the feeling of her hot mouth around him, her clever tongue caressing the hard length. He combed his hand through her hair, chuckling softly, teasing, “eager, are we darling?”

“Shut up and fuck me you cocky little shit,” she barked out playfully, making them both smile. “Prove to me that that little trinket will never satisfy me again, detective.”

He pinned her on her back, caging her between his strong arms, “Cocky, yes....little...well, my dear, I think we both know that's just a bit inaccurate.” His tone changed as he settled between her legs, and his hand stroked her cheek gently. He asked, “You're okay? This is okay?”

“Yes...please...just go in slowly?”

He nodded.

Magnus eased in gently, as they both gasped at the decadent feeling of his cock inside her slick, warm walls, adjusting to each other. “Mmmm. God...yes,” she purred, stroking his sharp cheekbone with her soft little hand. Meeting his eyes she said, “Magnus?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Now, please, fuck me like a whore.”

It rough and relentless as Magnus drove into her again and again while her legs clamped tight around him, calves bouncing on the muscular curve of his ass as he moved. The wave of both of their orgasms crashed quickly and simultaneously as they rode it out, making a mess of the old duvet, and collapsing naked against each other, spent and smiling. Mara massaged Mangus' head as he rested it against her breasts. He trailed little pecks along the soft skin, sighing contentedly. She peeked over his lovely golden fleece to see where the blue-glowing monitors were still reporting their downloads in progress with lots of time to go. Idly she said, “Looks like this is going to take longer than we thought.”

“Oh no, whatever shall we do in the meantime,” Magnus chimed in from where he had begun lapping his tongue over her tits, as they both laughed in an all encompassing high of relief.

@smolvenger @goblingirlsarah I can't think who else might like this one, but feel free to share!

[tantalizingtopi]

Foolish

Gortash x Durge (Draela)

Word Count: 783-ish

Disclaimer: Characters are belonging to Larian Studios and Baldur’s Gate 3

Pretadpole. Moonrise Towers, a meeting of the Dead Three’s Chosen. Mild tension as the plan continues.

Enjoy ~

“I still fail to see why you insist on animity, Draela,” Kethric begins, leaning over the table towards me. “It’s not doing you any favors.”

I laugh. “It’s easier for me to keep them in line if they don’t know what purpose I serve, if they remain at a distance and fearful.”

“And they should fear you,” Enver agrees readily.

Ketheric shakes his head. “But how do you expect them to continue to revere you as they should, without knowing how pivotal of a role you play?”

I lean back, steepling my fingers together and take a deep breath. I try to remember that we are only a couple of months from the beginning of the end. Yet I am so tired. I cast my eyes to Enver, watching as he works his fingers against his palm, clearly fighting the stiffness in them from all of his correspondence. He will have to take his leave soon to return to Baldur’s Gate and I am itching to join him, torn between feeling like I need to be here to keep the elder brain functioning properly as well as Kethric’s little minions in check and taking care of temple matters as well as causing further panic in the name of the Absolute. The Banite catches my eyes and smiles guiltily, stilling his hand.

“I prefer some intrigue and mystery, old man. Besides, I doubt your own followers would feel comfortable knowing they remain a heartbeat from death in my presence. I work best in the shadows, and that’s where I will remain.”

“For now, my dear. But you will need to embrace the light at least a little when the time comes for us to rule together,” The tyrant gently reminds me.

“I think we are both looking forward to you taking the centerstage with us as your counterparts, Gortash,” Kethric is quick to respond, and I nod. Kethric has always been a reluctant participant in our partnership, more so since Myrkul brought back his daughter who is disgusted by him. I try to find empathy for him but I simply don’t have it in me. Only an old fool would expect his daughter, whose faith is so strong in an opposing god, to be grateful to be by his side and join him. Especially after all these years she’s lost.

Gortash lets loose one of his famous political smiles, the smile that charms dozens and dozens of elites, and strikes fear in many more. I say very little else for the rest of the meeting as the two hash out intricate details over and over again. The same things we have discussed a hundred times over, with only the tiniest variants that change nothing.

I have been struggling to sleep lately, tucked up in small quarters. Kethric had offered to move Balthazar out of his hole for me, but contrary to popular belief, I prefer sleeping in clean quarters and without the stench of the undead flooding my nostrils. My father visits me while I sleep, visions of a future of rivers of blood and gore, carcasses of the dead piled like mountains on his altar, for him. He wishes for quicker progress, but we are stalled for the time while we track a new lead on something that may prove to be our undoing if we cannot locate it.

I watch my lover as he talks, gesticulating as he goes. I think about what those hands, those fingers, can do to me. What mine can do to him. Suddenly I find myself standing, my hand on his shoulder, freezing him mid-sentence. He looks up at me, concerned. I blink down at him, equally as surprised. I quickly catch myself and turn towards our third. “I think we are done for now, Kethric. That will be all.”

“But—“ Kethric begins, and my grip tightens on Gortash’s shoulder.

“You heard the lady, Kethric. We can continue in the morning. It’s late,” Gortash crosses himself, putting his hand on mine.

Kethric stands, fixing me with a glare. “Fine. But this—“ he gestures to the two of us, “needs to not interfere with our plans.”

“It’s just sex old man,” I retort to his back. “I have told you before I can assist in finding you a suitable replacement if you are interested.”

“I’m not.” He opens the door to leave, looking back at us once more, “you’re both being foolish.”

Kethric’s words echo in my head long after he is gone, long after Enver and I have exhausted ourselves with one another. I lay tucked into my lover’s side, listening to him sleep soundly, longing for that sleep myself, wondering just how foolish I truly am.

[abugwritesstuff]

The Princes React to MC Being Sick: Toa

i headcanon that toa has an anxiety problem so that's where this story kinda goes lol. as before: in honor of being sick, here's a toa fic about caring for the mc if she's ill.

-----

“Sherry Invidia.”

“Here!” “Rio Voleri.”

“I’m here!”

“Aquia Avari.”

“H-here, sir!”

“MC.”

Toa looked up from his attendance sheet after a beat of silence, scanning the room for his seemingly silent paramour. Usually before one of his classes they’d meet and she’d come to assist in the setup, but she’d been absent- no matter, he’d thought. Perhaps she was otherwise occupied in her studies. Perhaps she’d been accosted by one of her friends and would come in with the crowd of other students. But as Toa had become engrossed in his preparations, he’d hardly looked up until that moment and was startled to find no evidence of her anywhere.

“Hmm. Absent,” he muttered, crossing an X in the box beside her name. He gave a questioning look to the Voleri-Invidia pair who sat in the usual spots. When she wasn’t with him, she was often with them- but they shook their heads. 

“I haven’t seen her all day,” Rio volunteered. 

“She retired early last night after we had tea together, but I haven’t seen her since then. I thought she was with you.” Sherry said, her face drawn into an expression of concern.

Toa shook his head, dispelling the incoming tide of anxious thoughts. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. Let’s begin with today’s lesson.”

But even as the lesson progressed, Toa’s anxiety built. He instructed students on their activities in a well-hidden fog, fidgeting with his hands slightly and glancing at the clock on the wall. Time had never moved so slowly. Different scenarios played through his mind. Had his sister sent some minion of his after her? Had Avari captured her somewhere? What if she’d snuck off into town on some flight of fancy and met trouble there? Wouldn’t her little cat have sent word? Perhaps he should have insisted on her staying in his chambers.

The bell rang.

Toa jumped, startled out of his thoughts. Shaking his head, he dismissed the students and quickly reset the room as they poured out, sending vials and bottles rattling back to their places on the shelves and quickly stacking assignments into their spots. He tossed his bag over his shoulder and shoved in his personal effects.

“Uh, Toa?”

He turned to find Knight peering up at him, looking concerned. “You seem off.”

Toa pressed a hand to his chest to find that his heart was beating at an uncomfortably rapid staccato. He let out a breath and massaged the bridge of his nose. “...Perhaps. I am going to go verify MC’s wellbeing, if you don’t mind cleaning the rest of this up on your own.”

Knight nodded. “Of course.”

The walk (or was it a run, almost?) to her chambers was something he would struggle to recall later. One moment he was leaving the classroom and the next he was at her door, knocking rapidly and wringing his hands anxiously. “It’s me.”

After a few moments the door opened and Toa came face to face with her little winged cat, hovering at face level with a worried expression. “Prince Toa! I’m glad you’re here! Milady is bedridden with some sort of illness!” he mewed.

Toa brushed past the cat to find his paramour curled in bed, hair swept off her face in a messy bun and face flushed a vibrant pink. Tendrils of her hair clung to her skin and her comforter was pulled up all the way underneath her chin. Her eyes seemed misty and she sneezed into her arm as he came near and pulled a chair to sit by her side. He pressed a hand to her forehead and winced at the heat emanating off her.

“You’re unwell.”

She drew in a rattling breath and coughed a bit. “...Yeah,” she croaked. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to class today.”

Toa shrugged off his jacket and laid it at the end of the bed, rolling up his sleeves. “Don’t apologize,” he murmured. He turned to the cat and tilted his head to the door. “Go tell Knight to bring my medical bag from the infirmary. And to rearrange my schedule for the day.” At this, the cat nodded enthusiastically and sped from the room. Toa laid his hand to his chest again, sucking in a breath. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I do have to,” Toa interrupted. “First of all, I am in charge of the infirmary most days, so caring for you is in my purview and my duty. Secondly,” and at this, he leaned in close and pressed a shaky kiss to her brow, holding her cheeks gingerly in his palms. “...I am your paramour. I would hardly be worthy of that title if I abandoned you when you fell ill.” He straightened up and studied her face, willing away any signs of protest. “Now, tell me about how you are feeling? Did anything preclude this? Did you consume anything strange? When did your symptoms begin?”

She was silent for a long few seconds, wracking her fuzzy mind for details. “I didn’t eat anything strange. I started feeling off last night- no, in the afternoon. I felt so tired. And cold. I took a bath early last night and went to bed because my throat was hurting and my body felt achy and I couldn’t get myself warm.”

“You should have sent word for me. I could have helped then.”

“Yeah, but… you had paperwork last night.”

Toa sighed. “I’ll always have paperwork. And it can always be done later. You matter more to me than work.” He took her hand into his and brushed his thumb across her knuckles absently, feeling the tension beginning to loosen around his shoulders. “I’d thought perhaps something awful had happened to you when you didn’t come to class.”

She frowned. “You were worried about me?”

He smiled awkwardly. “I always am.”

At that moment, Knight and the cat burst in, the valet nearly breathless and immediately thrusting out Toa’s bag. “‘Ere you are, Toa,” Knight gasped out, crouching over with hands to knees for a moment. “I came as quick as I could. How is she faring? Shall I go get anything else?”

Toa pulled vials and bottles and salves out of his bag, lining them up on the bedside table. “It’s a viral illness,” he replied, to which Knight slumped in relief. “But if you could bring tea and soup from the kitchens- I doubt she’s eaten today.”

Knight bowed. “On it. I will be back. Kitten, assist me.”

“A-Ah, yes Master Knight!” 

The pair ran from the room and Toa continued to assemble a medication, mixing together liquids and powders and imbuing them with magic slowly. “I saw you frown when I mentioned eating. You lack an appetite, then?” he asked, not looking up from his work. 

She pursed her lips. “...Yeah. Nothing sounds good. I’d rather not…” she mumbled.

“You have to,” Toa replied curtly, pouring one last vial into the mixture and shaking it in slow, fluid motions. “You won’t recover if you don’t fuel yourself properly. Here.” He turned with the bottle in hand and poured a small amount into a cup, offering it to her. “Drink this.”

Slowly she sat up- Toa magically propped up her pillows as she did -and she took the glass, downing it and then sputtering into a cough. “Uck! That tastes awful.”

Toa took the glass back and chuckled a bit. “I should imagine so, yes. But it’s effective.” With that, he went to the fire and sparked the remaining wood logs into a roaring fire, sending the room into a warm glow. The room was by no means actually cold but he’d seen the fine hairs on her arms standing up and realized she was still extremely cold, despite the feverish sweat gathered on her forehead. He smiled to himself, watching her sigh in relief as the room became warmer.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I appreciate this.”

Toa sat back down at her side, once again taking her hands into his and kissing them. “Always.”

She tugged on him slightly, moving back slowly and then patting the open space beside her. “You don’t have to sit there. Come in here with me,” she whispered. Her eyes were half-lidded and almost closed, nearly delirious with exhaustion. 

Toa allowed himself to be slowly pulled into the bed until both of them were snug beneath the covers and she was sidled up next to him, her head resting on his chest, her arm across his chest and her leg thrown over his. He stroked a hand through the free tendrils of her hair and listened to the shaky, weak pattern of her breathing. Already her coloring was looking better, despite the severity of her illness- something that relieved him enough to let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

“Promise me something,” he whispered to her, tucking her in closer.

“Mmmhm?”

He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. “In the future… Always tell me when you need my help. Please. For my sake. I need… I need to know you’re safe and well.”

“...Okay. I promise.”

He listened as she fell asleep against him. Outside, the sound of rain was pattering in increasing intensity against the window. In combination with the roaring fire, Toa found himself becoming drowsy as well and waved a hand to extinguish the lit candles lining the room until the room was enmeshed in darkness. The heat and weight of her body against him felt like a precious, fragile thing and Toa swallowed the growing lump in his throat. 

“She’s fine… she’s perfectly fine…” he whispered to himself. He tilted his head to stare down at her- her long lashes and pink lips, her flushed cheeks and the shape of her nose. Every bit of her was completely and utterly perfect. The thought of her suffering or worse made him shudder. He squeezed her in closer and closed his eyes again, vowing to always protect her and keep her well as the sound of the rain lulled him to sleep alongside her.

[arrancxr]

What are the espadas thoughts about their living spaces in las noches (or even las noches in general) ? Do you have any headcanons about like... their sleeping arrangements, how they each got their quarters? I feel like they fought for the "best" spots.

In one of your loly analysis, you touched a bit on how this would be hell for hollows to be packed in such a place... and it bought me back to a scene in the manga where we realize that the hollows are actually super heavily monitored too (the cameras 😭🔪).

My general headcanon is that Las Noches kind of sucks for Hollows, just, in general. It's sterile, too clean, and endlessly white, and smells somehow never stick how they should— so everyone constantly feels like they're in one big, overlapping territory where boundaries are crossed left and right. This is not good for anyone's tension levels, and especially not the weaker Arrancar, who now have to live with basically pissing off stronger Hollows on a regular basis.

Their sleeping arrangments are a shallow imitation of what would work for a human or Shinigami, with little consideration for what's actually comfortable. Aizen made Las Noches look perfect, but its substance, when you look closely enough, can often be a little lacking; and the Arrancar's living spaces are perfect examples of it. The beds have that "hospital bed" feel. You know the thin, vaguely crinkly sheets? Yeah. They look perfectly fine, but would barely be comfortable for a human, let alone a creature that's more used to seeping half-buried in a hole in the sand. The rest of their sparse, bland furniture is more of the same; plain, white, and fake-feeling.

In all, the whole place is just uncomfortable. Hollows aren't meant to live so close together, and Aizen absolutely does not care about how miserable his minions are. But the living arrangements are better than, y'know, risking death out in the desert, at least... and low on the list of Aizen-related complaints people have, to begin with.

idk how to tag thissss

[hummingbird-of-light]

Round 2: Seventh story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: Mistakes Of The Past

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Original Male Character(s)

Relationship(s): /

Rating: T

Words: 754

Prompt: Ambush

Warnings: Violence, Mentions of Drugs, Ambiguous/Open Ending

A/N: Based on my one-shots "Failure" and "Worth It" from Bad Things Happen Bingo Round 1

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ Mistakes Of The Past ~

When Robert "Robbie" Scott entered the dark warehouse and saw no one except for Daniel, his heart sank a wee bit. This was all way too easy.

Wasn't the gang leader supposed to be joined by his minions? Usually, he was never all by himself. It was very unsettling.

Still, the young Scotsman couldn't show his fear. Not on this day. Not when he'd finally put an end to this horrible business.

"H-hey Daniel," Robbie greeted the man with a wave of his hand and a smile crossed Daniel's face as he turned around to face the young man.

"Robbie, buddy, how nice to see you."

The Scotsman tried his best not to wince when Daniel slapped a hand onto his shoulder and pulled him in for a quick hug.

"I was very surprised to hear from you. Thought you were clean?"

Cold sweat formed on Robbie's forehead as he shrugged his shoulders. His heart started to beat a little bit faster.

"Y-ye know me. I n-need the stuff."

It was a lie. After he had taken an overdose, his family had helped him to get off the drugs. Even his big brother had come back from the academy to help him.

"Ah, I see. Well... I can't blame you. After all, I sell the best stuff in town."

Slowly, Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out an ampoule.

Memories of all the times Robbie had used this horrifying substance crossed his mind and he suppressed a shiver. It had been wrong, had made everything worse. He knew that now.

And that was the reason why he was helping the police get these guys.

They had wired him to listen in on everything. As soon as Robbie left the house or was in danger, the officers would storm the building. They had told him not to worry.

And yet it gave him the creeps to be near the man who led the gang.

"T-that's just what I'm looking for. S-same price as always?" Robbie didn't mean for his voice to shake, but he just couldn't stop it.

The grin on Daniel's face only widened and he nodded.

"Sure. Always for one of my best customers."

He placed the ampoule in Robbie's hand, then pulled him close again so that he could whisper the next words into his ear. Still, his voice was loud enough for the bug to pick it up.

"Especially if that customer leads the officers who are after us right into an ambush."

Robbie's heart skipped a beat and his eyes widened in horror at what he heard. He shook his head in disbelief as Daniel grabbed the bugging device, threw it onto the floor and crushed it with his foot.

N-no... That couldn't be!

Before the Scotsman could say anything, he heard loud shooting and yelling outside the warehouse.

Daniel let go of him and chuckled coldly, slowly shaking his head.

"Oh Robbie, Robbie, Robbie. Did you really think that my gang is small? I have so many members on my side."

"I-I-I-" Robbie stammered, slowly tumbling backwards. Tears filled his eyes as he realized just what Daniel had said before he had destroyed the bug.

The police! They would think that he had worked with Daniel and his gang! That he was responsible for leading them into that ambush! That he was part of the plan!

Amused, Daniel took a few steps forward, reaching for the phaser he always carried with him.

"Now, what will you do, Robbie? Try to escape the police for the rest of your pathetic life? Or should we end it right here and now?"

The gang leader's finger played with the trigger and Robbie just wanted to scream for help. But he knew that it would get him nowhere. It was useless.

"P-please..."

"I'm sure they'll put you in jail for a very long time once they find the evidence we hid in a locker only you officially have acces to."

Tears started to stream down his cheeks as Robbie placed one hand on his mouth.

That... that was impossible! It couldn't be!

His eyes found the phaser pointed at him.

He knew it. He knew that he wouldn't survive years in prison.

"Now? What do you say, Robbie? Want me to end you?"

Daniel's voice was filled with pleasure. He really enjoyed this way too much.

And Robbie? There was only one thing he could do. One way out of this mess he had caused.

So he closed his eyes... and nodded.

[massivesimpfordilfs]

Chishiya Fic pt2

Here's pt2, rly cranked it out there. Also on request from my same friend. Here's pt1 if u havent seen it

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

Chishiya x gn!reader

“Hearts. Just had to pick hearts.” (y/n) grumbled, avoiding looking at Chishiya.

“Hey, you said you didn’t want to get blown up.” Chishiya shrugged, scanning the forming group within the prison.

“Hearts is the one game I’m not good at. You saw me during the ten of hearts! I was a mess!”

“Wasn’t that bad.” Chishiya laughed a tiny bit smug, eyes trailing the way his partner paced back and forth.

(y/n) calmed down as more people entered, trying to not bring attention to them and flipping his hood up.

“Game: Solitary Confinement. Rules: Every round is an hour, at the end of a round you must step into one of the cells and guess your suit. If you guess incorrectly, the collar around your neck explodes. To clear: Kill the Jack. There are plenty of snacks and drinks.” The robotic voice explained.

“The Jack?” (y/n) asked.

“This game could last for days.” Chishiya muttered, glancing at his friend.

“We can win by just telling each other the suits! Quick, what’s mine?” A guy asked, turning so his neck could be shown to a person next to him.

“This is a game of trust. We won’t know who’s telling the truth if we play like that. And the game won’t end unless someone lies to the Jack.” A elegant looking business man explained. At that, everyone started silently grouping, cautious of one another. A boy who looked kind of like a minion or El Chavo approached (y/n) and Chishiya.

“I’m Ippei Oki.” He said, bowing to the two. “Can I…group up with you two?”

(y/n) glanced at Chishiya who smiled and nodded, keeping his hands in his pockets.

A large group started forming and instantly, (y/n) did not like it. They thought that the girl leading the group was too cheerful for such a dark game. They glanced over at Chishiya who looked at the level below them, seemingly observing two other players.

“Do you want to join us?” Some scared looking people walked over and asked the now trio.

“N-”

“Sure.” (y/n) glared at Chishiya who looked over at them and winked. (y/n) blushed and looked away. The group thanked them and the round continued.

“Heart.” Chishiya told (y/n).

“Diamond.” They replied.

The round went smoothly, no one died until the second round. (y/n) was downstairs getting snacks, finding some delicious biscuits, and returned after the scary guy had been lied to. After making their guesses, (y/n) flinched as a loud explosion sounded next to them. Exiting the cell, they peeked in and found the bloody mess that was the big scary guy. Everyone else became more cautious and heightened. More and more people started lying and dying, but (y/n), Chishiya, and Ippei remained silent even within their own group. They were downstairs in the cafeteria together and (y/n) handed Chishiya a bag of the biscuits.

“I think we should eliminate that kid.” The girl, Urumi, suggested when they had walked off to get a drink.

“Why?” Ippei asked, a little nervous.

“I don’t trust them. They have a kind of…attitude.” She hummed, eating her snack. Chishiya pressed his lips, cautiously watching his friend.

“(y/n).” He approached the kid later. “Urumi and the others plan to lie to you.”

“Oh? Well, isn’t that just lovely.” (y/n) sighed. “You won’t, right?”

Chishiya smiled, nodding and (y/n) turned around. “Spade.” Chishiya said.

“Thanks.” (y/n) held up a fist for a fistbump and Chishiya reciprocated.

When the guesses were made, (y/n) closed their eyes tight, hoping that Chishiya really hadn’t lied as the rest of the group had told them Club.

Nothing happened and they walked out clean. With a shrug, they walked past the members of the group. They remained distant, with Ippei and Chishiya mostly relying on each other while Chishiya helped (y/n).

“These biscuits are good.” They said, just after Urumi was killed.

“Did you eat them in the real world?” Chishiya asked, stealing a couple.

“Nope. I didn’t even know they existed.” (y/n) smiled, wiping some crumbs off the corner of their mouth.

“I think Urumi was mad up until she died that you didn’t.” Chishiya hummed, looking at the last two of the original group. They were crying and quite obviously lying to one another.

“It’s amazing how quickly people can lose faith in one another.” (y/n) hummed, drinking some of the green tea they had in a bottle. 

“Just shows how fragile humans are.” Chishiya replied. He stood up and walked past (y/n), patting the kid on the head as he passed. (y/n) froze, going bright red before choking on a biscuit.

“Ooh, you’re crushing?” Ippei asked, walking over after a minute.

“Shut up! No I’m not!” (y/n) denied. Ippei just laughed. They calmed down and sat in silence for a moment.

“I’m getting tired of this. Watching people betray each other because of a deadly game. I shouldn’t have made it this far to begin with.” Ippei smiled sadly, looking at the floor.

“Hey, come on, we can get through this.” (y/n) said, trying to get him to cheer up.

“During the next guess, I’m going to guess wrong. I don’t want to keep risking everything for these games.” Ippei looked at his newfound friend who looked back with creased eyebrows and a disheartened expression.

“Ending on a heart, befitting.” (y/n) smiled but it was obviously forced. It seemed as though they were just trying to lighten the mood.

After their guessing round, (y/n) walked out and bumped into the boy with hair in his eyes. He reminded the kid of those angsty teens stereotyped in shows and movies. His nervous nature and the hair all fit.

“Hey.” They said but the boy didn’t stop. “Matsushita, right?” The boy paused and (y/n) smiled. “You’ve been real quiet. Your friend was the first one to have someone killed, yeah? What’s his name?”

“Banda. And I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Matsushita didn’t turn around completely, just kind of looking to the side over his shoulder. Four other doors opened and out walked the remaining players. Chishiya, Yaba, Kotoko, and Banda. They all seemed to stare at (y/n).

“What’s with those looks?” They asked, confused. Chishiya nodded to the unopened cell beside them and they glanced in. “Oh.”

“Ippei was too pure-hearted for this game.” Chishiya clicked his tongue. He walked off past the group. Everyone else continued looking at (y/n) who felt next to naked under all their gazes. None of them had really seen them talk to Chishiya so everyone believed the kid was all alone. They laughed nervously before walking off towards the cafeteria.

“Everyone thinks you killed him.” Chishiya rounded the corner, munching on some of the biscuits.

“I know. Ugh, now how are we supposed to win?” They asked, grabbing a box of mint pocky.

“Those are so gross.” Chishiya snickered, looking at the package.

“Shut up. What’s the plan now?” (y/n) asked.

“Well, I think they think we’re both alone now. I’ll lurk down here and try to get someone to spill, maybe intimidate Matsushita a bit about Banda and try to get Kotoko to talk to me. You will stay away from here. I’ll tell you your suit now so you won’t have to worry about getting it later.” (y/n) nodded, turning around. “Spade.”

“Turn around-”

“No, I want to see if I can get the others to tell me.” Chishiya smiled.

“But-” They were cut off by a biscuit being shoved in their mouth and receiving a little peck on the head. They started turning bright red.

“Don’t worry, I’m good at guessing games. Now go, someone is going to come down soon.” Chishiya nodded towards the stairs and (y/n) walked off.

Sure enough, the last round went smoothly. (y/n) pretty much hid in the corner, trying to keep themself busy while avoiding everyone.

“Planning to die?” Yaba asked, approaching them in the last twenty minutes.

“Yeah. Kinda no point if my buddy is dead.” They shrugged.

“I’ll tell you your suit if you tell me who you think the Jack is.” Yaba offered.

“Hmm, I’ll tell you that for free.” (y/n) offered, smiling and tapping his cheek.

Yaba laughed. “Ok, sure. I think it’s that boy you first arrived with. The one that abandoned you after your group tried to kill you.”

“Oh? Nah, if anything he’d probably be the king of diamonds. I really think it’s that boy Matsushita. He’s just…really off.” They answered, standing up and stretching. “If you were a face card, which would you be? I think I’d be one of the spades cards. Probably the Jack.”

“I’d like to be…the Jack of hearts.” Yaba smiled, tilting his head just a bit.

“That’s cool, you’d probably be really good at it.” The voice announced the guessing time, interrupting the conversation. “Well, good luck.” (y/n) got up and walked away, entering a cell.

The countdown began and they announced with a smile, “Spade.” Time ran out and only one explosion went off. After a few minutes, they heard an echo down the hall, like someone was laughing. 

“Oh, guess it really was Matsushita. Aw and I wanted him to be the nice one.” (y/n) sighed, walking out after another few minutes. They followed the voices and ended up on the same floor as Chishiya, waving down at him. Chishiya waved back and continued talking. The two walked out of the prison together, only pausing when the explosion of the blimp came from behind him.

“Well, that was fun. What’s next?” (y/n) asked, Chishiya just laughed and pulled out a stolen pack of the biscuits.

[honeybeewhereartthee]

Madness Mansion of Helter Spider 15

꒷꒦˚︶꒦Previous꒷︶꒷꒦˚Chapter Fifteen꒷꒦˚︶꒦Next꒷︶꒷꒦˚

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

You choice to stay still and be taken away by Cheshire cat.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

You watch how the large Maine Coons walks around the estate with no much care but as spider comes from the corner he jumps and a portal appear below his feet, in you two go to another place.

The corridors seems too long and maze like but before long, he made a leap up to the roof and you saw the view of twisted world from above.

Vermillion flowers that grows almost in the haft of the view, two sides and the madness mansion is station in the between of those sides.

He put you down in between of his front paws as he lay down and hugs your small feline form to make you safe from falling off the edge.

"meow. (=^ ◡ ^=) ( cousin, isn't the world beautiful in it's twisted way?)" The Maine Coons ask you as he lick your furr to clean you off the scent of that mad hatter and it's minion.

"meow? ( What? Why are you calling me cousin...)" You were so confuse why this big house cat is calling you that

"Meow, meow (=`ω´=) (aiyo, my adorable cousin don't want to be my cousin no more? Shall you be my child instead?)" The cat mewl as he put his paws on top of your head after he lick off the last scent that can truck you down.

"meow.. Meow??? (Wait... Are you... The Cheshire cat???)" Your adorable large cat eyes widen as you realize who this is. But it strange, you think Cheshire cat is a person too. But such a fluffy cat. "Meow... (Soft fur)" You rub your head against his fur thinking how soft it is.

"meow. (^˵◕ω◕˵^) ( you like my soft coat ? Ah. I'm glad.)" His eyes seems to sparkle in glee before he look down to the garden, he saw someone is looking up to him. It was the mad hatter who have already sense his presence.

That person knows his in his mansion the very beginning, what every type of event happened in his domain, he knows it all. He have eyes everywhere.

He watch in amusement how Blood cross his arms and stared to his eyes with dull eyes not amuse by his presence to his domain even in the slightest.

" meow meow... (=①ω①=) ( does that guy really think I will left him off and have such treat? Since you claim to be my relative. Your now my responsibility)" he suddenly bite the back of your neck again as mad hatter point at your direction and the mansion roof transform into set of sharp blade and descended to the two of you-- more to the cat who's holding you by the nape.

But those blade all enter a portal and all went to the direction of the mad hatter who wave his hand to change the flower of danger from hi. With a snap those blade become roof tiles once again.

"blue." You heard mad hatter called before long, the taller blue appear before you with a smile on his face.

"we don't think so kindly to tresspassers. Now parish." Blue says as he attack Cheshire cat who's carrying you but the mischievous cat jump back and enter a portal and now the two of you are gone from the mansion.

.

.

Blood stared at the scene as he wave his hand to fix his mansion roof, blue come down and bow down in his knees in front of blood already expecting the punishment.

"I have failed you, my Lord."

"ah.. what shall I do... " The mad hatter murmur as if in deep of thoughts, his bangs over shadow his eyes as he stared at his useless minion.

"Sir Mad hatter... Should we give chase?" Grey ask in worry.

"... Hmm... Kokoko..." He suddenly chuckle, a sinister chuckle. "They will be back... That stupid lying feline cannot survive outside after all... What's the point of using man power in such trivial thing... " He returns to his chair as he cross his leg, once again resting his head against his palm. As grey serve him vermillion tea.

Staring at the tea reflection his smile drop as a thought come in mind. He once again in a deep thoughts when there's nothing to disturb his mind and he tone down the volume of madness.

.

.

.

"meow meow (=`ω´=) ( since we're out of that place, which place do you wanna visit my little kitten? ) Do you wanna go cause some trouble in that vermillion bitch king or the childish white king? " When the two of you are outside the madness mansion, Cheshire cat put you down to draw two paws of the two good place to visit on the ground.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Where do you wish to go?

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[ominoose]

Your Blue discourse is excellent! Ngl, I took that one line so differently when I saw the movie first time around.

Here's my thoughts: I had a headcanon/theory that orderly Blue was originally a patient, one that either a) got released wayyyyy before he was ready, b) somehow took over the place from the original head orderly and just made everybody think he was supposed to be in charge, or c) it was originally for men until one of them (Blue) got out, disposed of everyone else, and freed the rest of the patients to be his minions essentially. Overall... I've put way too much thought into this.

Another thought/hc i have, especially for that scene when he's upset over everyone else "playing with his toys" but him, he a) calls everyone 'toys' because he's been treated like one as a child or possibly because if he starts viewing them as human beings, he'll lose control over his own emotions even more, b) he actually craves something more than what he's got (maybe a fucked up version of a romantic relationship with one of his patients) because I see him as someone who if he caught feelings, he'd become the most possessive fucker there is, or c) back the the childhood trauma theory, and now it's his personal mission to never lose control over anything ever again, because he can't even get control over his own self, so he gets it over everyone else.

One more thought/hc for now for Blue's childhood, he was never loved the way he should have been, and that was out of his control. Maybe one parent was abusive to the other while the other was too distant to be there for him (why he freaks out when Babydoll goes into her mind) and now, subconsciously he craves that feeling of love that he's convinced himself he'll never get so he gets power and control over anything/everyone he can because that's what he can control. If someone did show him any willing submission I honestly think it'd probably ruin him.

I cannot describe how happy this ask makes me, I cannot explain how giddy I am getting into and dissecting this horrid mans life.

My personal little hc for his childhood is that his mother worked at the hospital and slept around a lot, he never had a real father figure. She spent most of her time at the hospital, which we know is out the way and in some woods, so with no one else to watch him he was stuck hanging around there too and seeing his mum not so subtly be passed around the men working.

He was neglected, his only example of relationships were sexual, transactional, a power play. Its likely he saw the old head orderly there, someone his mum had to suck off up to for more shifts. Somewhere along the line, when he's old enough, he just ends up working there. It's mostly cleaning or running small errands, but as he gets older the head orderly takes him under his wing a little, showing him the ropes, letting him have a proper job.

At some point his mother would die of an overdose or something, the head orderly dies or retires and Blue is left in charge. Remember at the end when he says "You're stuck here with me, in all this shit", he says it with such venom. Stuck here is such a particular phrase, like he's just as trapped as the girls staying there. I think he is, at least mentally. It's all he's ever known, he has no power outside of Lennox House, he probably lives there too, meaning any power he has is central to there. It's his to own, play with, make it how he wants. It's his prison as much as his home.

Thats also likely reflected in how he treats the girls. Jointly stemming from resentment towards his neglectful mother and from the only way he's seen women treated, his relationship with the girls is one where he feels powerful and treats them as objects. To him, they aren't anything more than an object to make money off of, sheep to be herded and trained.

Switch to the Club version of Blue, and again Oscar himself says this version of Blue is as much of how Blue see's himself, not just how Babydoll see's him. We can apply the hc backstory here too. His mother was a dancer, he spent his childhood here, he saw the women being used. The brothel owner takes him in and then Blue ends up with the business, etc, etc.

Why would Blue see himself, picture an idolized version of himself as some glamorous brothel owner? Likely because it's a world where the few skills and assets he have are more than a depressing, run down mental hospital full of depravity and hopelessness. Here, it's more than selling mentally ill girls to his fellow slimy workers, now it's having pretty girls do elaborate dances to high class clientele.

All that aside, I really love the idea that he used to be a patient that was let out early. What would he be in for? It works because he'd known the ins and outs, he'd know how shit the staff is, he'd be in with some of the worst of them. Him taking over from the head orderly is the most likely though. We know he can forge signatures and documents, would've been not too hard for him to pull the credentials needed for the job outta thin air and make up some story to sack the former head orderly.

I genuinely do think he craves a person to love him unconditionally, in his own twisted way. Someone that see's and acknowledges how deprived he is and is happily willing to put up with his abuse. He's possessive, and Club Blue likes to look his best, so why wouldn't he want someone obsessed over him?

Would he love them back? I'm not sure. I don't think he has enough control or attention to direct to a single person, but he might have favourites. Overall he would just love the feeling of someone worshiping him.

Also how did you take the line first time around?

[spellbook-gayboy]

Suit Swap: The Love Language of America’s Superheroes by Christina Cabello

Valentine’s Day is certainly a special time for those of us caught in the throes of love. It’s a time of romantic gestures, chocolate boxes and all around mushiness with the people we hold the closest. Superheroes are no strangers to the celebration, and can enjoy it just as much as we do, either with other heroes or regular people. But as the years have passed and more and more heroes have come and gone, a sort of tradition has sprung up in the American superhero community, equal parts ingenious and adorable: Suit Swap. 

To put it simply, Suit Swap is exactly what it says on the tin: a couple, usually two superheroes, will swap clothes or costumes for Valentine’s Day, which is meant to signify the commitment they share to one another, as well as creating some absolutely hilarious photos. The first known instance of a Suit Swap taking place was all the way back to Valentine’s Day of 1973, when two employees of Capes Inc. USA, Sister Siren and Grey Swordsman, posed for a photoshoot while wearing each other’s costumes. Aside from showing the world how good Swordsman’s legs looked in fishnets, the shoot proved popular with many subcultures at the time that eschewed traditional gender roles, and was cited as a major milestone in the Sexual Revolution movement of the 60s and 70s. Seeing an opportunity to score points with those communities, it didn’t take long for Capes Inc. management to endorse Suit-Swap, and it soon became a tradition for many employees at the corporation’s offices through the following decades, long after the couple who started it left over a nasty legal dispute in 1978. After a while, interest in the custom died down, and it soon became a small event only celebrated by a select few. That was until the mid 1990s, when retired employee Night Flyer used his photography skills to make a photoshoot featuring his wife in his old costume, in honour of their 40th anniversary. This photoshoot managed to not only revive interest in Suit Swap, but also make it more popular than it had before, to the point that it still continues to this day albeit in a slightly altered form. 

And this year has been no exception, with many heroes honouring the tradition this year, with some truly hilarious results. First up is the pair of Kid Thor and Knockout, who were called out with the rest of their team to help deal with a supervillain attack in Albania, and from what has been shown, apparently the sight of Kid Thor smashing a killer robot in a crop top is a popular one. Next up is the well-known same-sex pairing of Shrinking Rae and Dupli-Kate, who joined their fellow Guardians (including Rex Splode in a somewhat ill-fitting Invincible costume) as they aided in clean-up efforts following an earthquake in Indonesia. Finally, we also have the solo partners from San Diego, Magic Man and Multi-Paul, who managed to take on an actual tentacle monster from either outer space or another dimension (both are equally plausible when Magic Man is involved), which had the unintended side effect of sending his online fanbase (who have taken to calling themselves ‘Magic Minions’) into an absolute frenzy.

Finally, while the tradition is typically associated with romantic couples, there had also recently been a push to include those who aren’t romantically involved in the tradition. Groups such as Eight Capes (the biggest advocacy group for LGBTQ+ superheroes in North America) has called for greater consideration of those in queerplatonic relationships as well as those on the aromantic spectrum, stating that they should be included in order to ‘prevent reinforcing the message that romantic love is superior to other forms of affection, and help to break societal amatonormativity’. Several heroes have already chosen to show their support, such as the friendly duo of Welsh supers Green Knight and Red Dragon, as well as the queerplatonic couple of Argentinian heroes Devastador and Lobo del Valle. While the opposition to this has been stiff, progress on the issue has certainly be made, especially as more and more high-profile supers show their support for their non-alloromantic peers. 

[splashesdarling]

Question on your loumand timeline. Could not the 70s devil's Minion have happened but Armand erased Daniel's memories of it like what happened in San Francisco.

I suppose he'd have to erase Louis memory of him sneaking away but/or he could be meeting Daniel during day's when Louis is asleep.

These are just some of my thoughts and I'm curious on what you might think of these.

Hi!

Well, season 3 may prove me wrong, and i'll gladly eat my words if it does (also, you do you. Like I said in the tags, if you like the idea of Devil's Minion in the '70s go for it, that's cool!). But the idea that Armand fell for Daniel in the '70s and was seeing him behind Louis back is not supported by the show's actual canon at all.

Per the canon of the show right now, it was made clear in both their meeting in ep.5 of season 2, and throughout the rest of the season, that Armand hates Daniel (and vice versa).

In ep.5, Armand is presented as being incensed that Louis finds Daniel "fascinating" while calling him "boring". As a result, he goes out of his way to torment Daniel mentally and physically, while also causing severe emotional distress by rooting through his memories and throwing everything back in his face to prove to both him and Louis that he is anything but 'fascinating'.

By the end of the ep. Armand fully intends to drain Daniel dry and dump his dead body somewhere ("You were going to drain me, pal.") and only doesn't because Louis demands that he let him live, as a testament to his love for Louis and their enduring relationship ("But I need this one to live. As a testament to our companionship. Of its endurance. […] No, Arun.I'm not asking.").

Had Louis not stepped in, Armand would have gladly killed Daniel there and then, and he seems mighty disappointed he didn't get to ("I'm cleaning up the mess. […] After what you've put me through here, I deserve this.").

I also see people arguing that Armand's tenderness towards Daniel when he's lulling him into death is a sign Armand likes him, but... the show establishes that that's just how Armand kills. As Louis says: "He'll have Malik begging for it in an hour. His methodology, it's never violent, I assure you." So Daniel is not special in that regard.

Likewise, when the show says Armand 'saved' Daniel, I think people misinterperate that as meaning Armand cared for him, when the ep. tells us he wasn't actually saving Daniel, he was saving Louis:

"You don't have enough to fear from Paris? [...] You'd have been passed out on the floor next to him, Louis! Out on your feet from the drug you stuffed him with!" - Armand doesn't save Daniel, he doesn't care about him, he saves Louis from himself because he's high during the day and could have burned up in the sun just like Claudia did in France. Again, Armand had no intention of 'saving' Daniel, he would have let Louis drain him just like he did all those other boys, and was planning on killing him himself before Louis stopped him.

We also hear throughout the season Armand telling Louis to end the interview and send Daniel home, that he doesn't want this interview to take place or for Daniel to stick around:

"Unworthy in San Francisco, unworthy in Dubai." [...] "He's reveling in it. You should end it." […] "Put him back on a plane is what I mean."

And it's obviously because he doesn't want Louis to realise Armand didn't save him in Paris, or that their current relationship is built on lies and deception, he's desperately clinging to what he has with Louis. As Armand say: "Don't let an insignificant detail, delivered from am insignificant mortal -" ruin our relationsip. He's trying to keep his relationship with Louis, because in spite of everything he does still love him.

I know some people will also argue that Armand turning Daniel when he's never turned anyone else means there's something special between them, which yes there is, but as of the show's canon right now that 'special' something between them is Louis.

We hear to Louis tell Armand "You harm him in any way, I will kill you.", only to see Daniel turned and Louis apologising: "I'm sorry you were burdened out of spite. I shouldn't have left you alone with him." So, per the show's canon, Armand turned Daniel out of spite, as in - how can he harm Daniel without killing him? Turn him.

Daniel already said back in season 1 he didn't really want to become a vampire: "I'd give it to you now. A still hand, time to watch your daughters marry -", "And divorce. And die. Save it for the rent boy.", so this is actively spiteful of Armand towards both Daniel and Louis. He gives Daniel something he said he didn't want, while making a mockey of Daniel living for Louis as "testament to our companionship. Of its endurance".

Things might change and I may be proven wrong by season 3, but as of right now there's nothing in canon to suggest anything but negative feelings between the two, both in the '70s and present day. There is however plenty of canon evidence that Armand still loved Louis and wanted to save their relationship from breaking up.

Again, like I said in my tags, if you like Devil's Minion (which I do, btw) and you like the idea of them happening in '70s go for it, live and let live, head-canon away, write that fic (I will be reading). But if we're talking actual show canon and timeline? It didn't happen, based on what we've seen/been told so far.

[liminalpebble]

An imagine to distract you while you're travel-stranded:

Imagine Magnus & Reader are away on an undercover mission and he finds a lil vibe in her suitcase 👀

Hi, my dear @muddyorbs!

And thank you for this prompt. It definitely kept my mind active during travel stranding and beyond. I kind of had it in my head that our OFC would be a bit of a Lisbeth Salander type and they would be at each other's throats until...well...you know. Hope you enjoy!

Magnus Martinsson fanfic, Magnus Martinsson x OFC, smut!, one shot, enemies to lovers (well...fuckers?), hostile but very consensual fucking, Minors DNI

Word count: about 3000 (sorry...bit of a honker. Worth it. I promise).

----

Bullets

Mara rolled her black-lined eyes when the call from Wallander came in. “Mara, are you still freelancing? We really need a tech wizard on this one.”

“Cute euphemism, Kurt...points for flattery. You need a hacker who will do the dirty work so your little lapdog techie can keep his hands clean while micromanaging me.”

Wallander sighed, and quipped sarcastically, “Why, yes, Mara, I'm doing very well, thanks. How are you today? Still your charming self, I see. By the way, you're on speaker. ” He looked across the conference table to where Martinsson (said lapdog techie) was glaring at his superior for putting him in this situation yet again.

Mara's eyes scanned around her tiny apartment full of computer equipment and old band tee shirts piled in an ever-increasing mound of black cotton. In her own mind, she'd named it Mount Doom. “Oh you know, Kurt, living that rich girl high life,” she replied in a prickly tone, toking on the remains of a joint from the night before. “And whose fault is it that I'm on speaker, hm? Really. You should know better by now.” She blew smoke out in a resigned exhale, “Alright Wallander, tell that minion of yours I'm in. I'm sure he'll be delighted.”

Kurt raised his voice. “His name is Magnus, or Detective Martinsson and I'd appreciate it if you stop calling him 'lapdog' or 'minion' especially to his face as you seem rather fond of doing...”

“Alright Kurt, see you tomorrow,” she said interrupting his lecture to end the conversation.

“Charming,” Magnus groaned.

--------

“The same room?” Mara said, with an air of annoyance, hauling her bags up the hill to the rundown Motorlodge.

Martinsson sighed and said with an edge of frustration, “Yes Mara, the same room. We can't work together from different rooms.”

“Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, minion! I know that, but I thought that at least when we're taking shifts we'd have our own space to rest. It could be days! It would have been nice if the police department had sprung at least for adjoining rooms. I'd even tolerate sharing a bathroom with you if...”

Magnus stopped in his tracks, putting a hand up so she nearly stumbled directly into him. “Can you please, please not do this? I'm just here to do my job, just like you are. Can we try not to be at each other's throats?” As he said it she couldn't help looking at his throat, that pretty pale neck and sharp jawline she'd love to suck on and bite and make him moan while...

“Mara!” he barked, snapping her out of her lurid daydream.

“Okay...fucking hell. Okay,” she said, shouldering past him to enter the little 70's time capsule of a room. He fortified himself with a deep breath, stepping into her wake.

-----

“Well,” she said, between sips from the paper cup, “At least the Bates Motel has a pretty decent coffee machine.”

They both laughed and smiled to each other, faces bathed in the blue glow of computer screens; a rare truce. They had set up efficiently, both very good at their jobs and surprisingly good at working together despite the personality clashes.

“See?”

“See what?” Mara asked, sitting forward to scan the screen.

Magnus put a finger on her chin to turn her face towards him instead. “See how nice it can be when we actually just have a pleasant cup of coffee together and work?”, he elaborated. It was adorable, she had to admit...those big innocent blue eyes and golden curls making him look like a particularly naïve, hopeful and, possibly stupid, angel. But from his work and credentials, she knew he was far from idiotic; just sweet, gullible, optimistic. And as he was staring at her with that sweet dumb incredibly handsome face, it just made her inexplicably angry, like his kindness was some kind of trick.

She shrugged, and took a sip to avoid looking at him, then stated, “Their hard drives will take hours to clone. It's a waiting game for now.” She yawned and cracked her knuckles, stretching up from the uncomfortable chair to flop onto the tacky paisley comforter. A sliver of orange glow from the setting sun slid between the heavy curtains, illuminating her body, and Magnus couldn't help but notice that like that, in this wash of golden hour light, she really was very pretty. Yet, for some inexplicable reason Mara seemed almost determined not to be, with her prickly personality and tent-like clothes hiding her rather nice curves. What a shame he thought.

Magnus took the opportunity to move too, rising to his feet and stretching his long arms over his head. Mara peeked at him with one surreptitiously open eye to drink in the sharp dips and muscle of his lower belly and hips as his shirt raised, ever so slightly, to show skin. Why does he have to have the body of a fucking Greek god? Jesus Christ. Eyes wondering south, hoping to catch a glimpse of the rather generous outline in his pants, she saw where his service revolver was strapped to him in a shocking interruption of black metal and leather. It didn't suit such a soft, posh, pretty boy to be toting around a gun like some cowboy. Having come from a wealthy suburb, Martinsson could never understand the grip of fear firearms held on poor neighborhoods like hers. She didn't like guns, and she didn't like the criminals or the cops who didn't seem to mind using them liberally in her childhood neighborhood while everyone else was caught in the crossfire.

“Do you have to wear that thing?” Mara asked, gesturing to the holster. “It's only me. I'm like a foot shorter than you and you could probably kill me with your bare hands if you wanted. Are there bullets in it now?”

Magnus turned to her, eyes soft and considerate. “Well, yes. It's part of the job. We have to wear them at all times on the clock and they have to be loaded. And it's not you I'm afraid of, Mara,” he said, sitting beside her on the bed, looking at his hands. “It's you I need to be ready to protect if things go south.”

Mara turned to perch on her elbow and look up at him, genuinely swooning for a second before she recovered hastily, coating it with sarcasm. “Awww...my hero. This is why they call you The Prince Charming of Ystad? And I know damn well you're afraid of me.”

“Not afraid...annoyed. Are you allergic to having a single genuine moment of humanity between us? What have I ever done to you?” he huffed sounding wounded, and standing up again to pace.

She groaned, standing up to face him, admitting to herself that she had been especially hard on him, and she couldn't even be entirely sure why (or at least, she wouldn't admit why, not even to herself). “Look, Magnus, I'm sorry, really.”

“Really?” he said cautiously, distrustful and surprised.

“Yeah..yeah, really. I've been such a bitch to you.”

As Magnus spotted the unprecedented chink in her armor, it set off the explosion of a tirade. It finally released itself from his mouth after brewing for months and he was powerless to stop it. “Listen. I don't know why you're like this, Mara, really I don't. I haven't done a bloody thing to deserve this, neither has Kurt.”

Mara felt a little fizzle of fear at the mounting growl in his voice, and she felt a little ashamed, but also aroused. It was deeply confusing.

“I wasn't socialized enough as a puppy. Why the fuck do you think, pretty boy? You're cops. I don't like cops. I don't like what you stand for...your mindless conformity...”

Magnus' voice rose, “Did it occur to you that some of them, Kurt and I for example, chose this life to protect people? Because we care about people, even people like you who hate us. And I'm not saying you don't have a good reason to hate the police, but you don't have to hate us. We're on your bloody side. And...and you think you're so clever and rebellious with your bitch act and your black hair dye....and and...your edgy jewelry,” he continued, reaching down to her open bag where there was an unusual silver necklace, with a heavy bullet for a pendant. He lifted it saying, “Oh so you don't like guns and bullets, but you'll wear them to look oh so cool and fashionable? What a fucking hypocrite...”

Mara was thunderstruck (and frankly excited) by his anger but the end of his little speech made her want to laugh hysterically. He had no idea that what he was holding was a state-of-the-art vibrator, beautifully designed to multitask as a piece of jewelry styled after an actual bullet. She thwarted her chuckle to say simply, “Please put that back. It was expensive.”

Magnus blinked in confusion, as if slapped by her unexpected response. As he moved to put it back, one of his long fingers fumbled around it, accidentally pressing a hidden button. As he dropped it back on top of her bag of toiletries, it began to buzz. The detective narrowed his eyes, mouth agape as the gears turned in his lovely head. “Is...is your necklace...vibrating. Holy shit...is that a...”. His broad Cheshire cat smile unfurled across his face, as he began to chuckled in long breathy laughs.

Now it was her turn to be angry...not to mention mortified. She darted her hand out to switch it off, crossed her arms, and stormed to the other side of the room. “Oh this is rich,” he purred out in his deep delicious voice. “Why did you bring that? And when on earth did you expect to have the time and privacy to use it?”

She yelled, “That's none of your business! And I thought we'd have separate rooms.”

He moved closer, now standing directly in front of her. She felt that looking into his bright eyes might sear her like a laser, so she settled for looking forward at his chest. Then his long soft fingers, tucked themselves under her chin, raising her eyes to his, as he asked in a deep intimidating voice, “Mara, why did you really bring that with you?”

Fuck. She could see why he was so good at interrogations. This is the kind of man it was no use lying to. She sputtered, “Be...because I know it might be a few days and...”

“And?” he prompted, taking a step closer.

She fumbled nervously, “And...and...because I knew I'd be trapped with you strutting around with your perfect fucking body and your pretty fucking face and your sweet fucking disposition, and I'd have to take care of myself if I wanted to think straight...okay?”

His smile dropped even as the heat of excitement coursed through his body. Magnus could see she was flustered, defenses down, nearly to the point of tears. Finally it occurred to him; so this is why she was so mean, so prickly and defensive towards him... because she liked him so much. She was harboring a hopeless school girl crush and assumed all of his kindness towards her...his goodness...was some kind of joke to mock her. She ignored the reality that he paid attention to her because he liked her too. She excited and intrigued him, but that all turned to bitter frustration that she would never let him near her. He just kept encountering all that barbed wire around her and finally quit trying to breach it...until now.

“Mara,” he said her name reverently like a prayer, in a low gentle whisper, full of empathy and kindness. He moved his hand from where it still was propped under her chin, to cradle her face. Neither of them could say who moved first as they crashed together, but before they knew it they were latched onto each other's hot mouths, kissing, licking, biting, barely able to breathe and neither of them minded.

He moved to her neck, sucking it hungrily then growled into her ear, “You think that little gadget could hold a fucking candle to me?”. She moaned in response, sliding her shaking fingers to begin unbuttoning his shirt while he worked at his pants and his holster. He was peeled out in moments, looking absolutely mouthwatering in nothing but his underwear. Mara tore her shirt and bra off over her head, then pressed the swell of her breasts against his firm torso, while her lips rejoined his. Her leg swung around his waist as she licked up his throat, bit his earlobe playfully and said, “Pull my hair. Call me a bitch again...”

He was panting as he said, “I...didn't call you a bitch...I said it was a 'bitch act'...”.

She gathered his curls between her fingers and tugged while she bit at his lovely throat, drawing a nearly-pornographic moan from the young cop. “I said, call me a bitch, you pedant.”

It was adorable, how he struggled to get the word out. He was the type of well-bred man who had trouble calling a woman anything other than “Miss”, which made it even hotter when his eyes darkened and his mouth twisted as he growled out, “You delicious bitch” and wrapped his big hand around her ponytail, yanking sharply. She was grinding against he thick erection, teasing him, desperate for him, until he stopped her with a bruising grip on her hips and met her eyes. “You called me a lapdog, huh? Well, there's only one lap I'm interested in being in,” he said in a velvety purr as he tugged her pants and panties off of her, pushing her onto the bed completely naked, as he snaked between her legs, biting and sucking ravenously at the soft flesh of her inner thighs, breath ghosting against her soaked pussy. She wove her fingers into his hair with surprising gentleness as she sighed and writhed while he kissed his way up.

When he licked the first firm line up her slit she arched her back and gasped out, “Holy fuck,” while he chuckled against her skin and she could feel his smile.

“Mmmm...you're even more delicious than I imagined,” he confessed, and the idea of him jacking off, thinking about this only aroused her more.

He began to suck delicately on her clit and swirl his tongue, bringing her close to the brink in mere moments. She lifted his head gently and said, “Wait...wait.”

His big, bright eyes met hers, solicitous and concerned as he panted out, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah...yeah amazing,” she said, smiling, “I just want to come on your cock. I want to feel you inside.”

“Shut up and fuck me you cocky little shit,” she barked out playfully, making them both smile. “Prove to me that that little trinket will never satisfy me again, detective.”

“Oh darling...” he purred as he crawled farther up the bed to kiss her, sharing her own taste with her. He stood up for a moment to slide his boxers off, revealing his cock (which was just as gorgeous as the rest of him), stroking it lightly in one big hand.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped when she saw it, big and flushed with a tantalizing drip of precum. She crawled over to him and taking it into her mouth hastily, dying to savor it. He groaned in ecstatic surprise at the feeling of her hot mouth around him, her clever tongue caressing the hard length. He combed his hand through her hair, chuckling softly, teasing, “eager, are we darling?”

He pinned her on her back, caging her between his strong arms, “Cocky, yes....little...well, my dear, I think we both know that's just a bit inaccurate.” His tone changed as he settled between her legs, and his hand stroked her cheek gently. He asked, “You're okay? This is okay?”

“Yes...please...just go in slowly?”

He nodded.

Magnus eased in gently, as they both gasped at the decadent feeling of his cock inside her slick, warm walls, adjusting to each other. “Mmmm. God...yes,” she purred, stroking his sharp cheekbone with her soft little hand. Meeting his eyes she said, “Magnus?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Now, please, fuck me like a whore.”

It rough and relentless as Magnus drove into her again and again while her legs clamped tight around him, calves bouncing on the muscular curve of his ass as he moved. The wave of both of their orgasms crashed quickly and simultaneously as they rode it out, making a mess of the old duvet, and collapsing naked against each other, spent and smiling. Mara massaged Mangus' head as he rested it against her breasts. He trailed little pecks along the soft skin, sighing contentedly. She peeked over his lovely golden fleece to see where the blue-glowing monitors were still reporting their downloads in progress with lots of time to go. Idly she said, “Looks like this is going to take longer than we thought.”

“Oh no, whatever shall we do in the meantime,” Magnus chimed in from where he had begun lapping his tongue over her tits, as they both laughed in an all encompassing high of relief.

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