#you might even say it was the golden order that encouraged him to be like that in the first place…

[slavonicrhapsody]

I'm still trying to take in these complicated words like Praetor and Inquisition

I don't know all the words in English or other languages so sometimes there are old words I don't know

But Praetor is like a high ranked official in an Inquisition that's like a controlling government/organisation that would eliminate anything that threaten its ideals or its authority correct? The ideals,the power they enforce is a set of rules they created right?

I think I heard a few things about Rykard killing heretics before he became Snakey Ryck and from what I know,an Inquisition hates heretics so that might've been his job too,including various other tasks

Honestly you would be fucked too if killing people is a job you do

In real life, “praetor” was a magisterial title granted by the government of Ancient Rome. The main functions of a praetor were administration of civil law, military command, judges in courts of law, and the governing of provinces. From Gideon, we learn that “Praetor Rykard is the Lord of the Volcano Manor on Mt. Gelmir. He is a ruthless justiciar who commands a company of inquisitors,” so in the Elden Ring universe, we can assume that the duties of a praetor involve enforcing law. Additionally, we are told Rykard led an Inquisition: in real life, historically, “the Inquisition” referred to institutions of the Catholic Church which were created to combat heresy and conduct trials of suspected heretics. So not only was Rykard responsible for enforcing law, but it was specifically religious law. And given the fact that Rykard is specifically referred to as a “traitor” by those affiliated with the Erdtree, we can safely assume that he served the Golden Order before betraying it. We can also find several golden tree banners in some of Volcano Manor’s abandoned cells, suggesting that the castle was at one point Erdtree-affiliated:

Exploring Volcano Manor, there can be little doubt as to what Rykard’s duties as Praetor involved. On the upper floor, we can be invaded by Inquisitor Ghiza, who wears the blue Official’s Attire: “Grubby blue robe worn by magisterial officials to carry out their grim tasks. Surveillance, executions, gruesome rituals... The darkest duties drive the wheels of mankind.” The inquisitors who worked under Rykard were responsible for many such “grim tasks:” Ghiza’s Wheel, as well as the Inquisitor’s Girandole, are explicitly identified as weapons of torture:

“Great iron wheel lined with flesh-flaying blades. Device of torture used by Inquisitor Ghiza.”

“Instrument of torture used on nobles behind the curtain at the Volcano Manor of Mt. Gelmir. Its numerous spikes pierce the flesh, then singe the wounds with flame. The smell of burnt blood induces despair in the victim. A candlestick conceived by a thorough mind.”

The more you poke around Volcano Manor, the more instruments of torture you’ll find in the background too, like this lovely spiked chair:

There’s also the whole existence of “Prison Town” in the first place — filled with cells and cages, it’s clear where the Inquisition housed its unfortunate prisoners. And speaking of unfortunate prisoners, the dungeons are packed full of Albinaurics stuck in various torture devices, including the “Black Dumpling:”

“Mask forced on a victim's head to lend torture an extra degree of cruelty. It magnifies one's fears and makes them acutely aware of all forms of pain. […] When the Black Dumpling goes on, the torturer no longer seeks answers; only to inflict suffering without hope of relief."

Anyway, Rykard’s previous occupation is what makes his character arc ironic; he was the guy who enforced law, but ended up betraying it. The main takeaway is that everything I’ve talked about here is Golden Order-sanctioned violence… Rykard was always committing horrific acts of violence, but the Golden Order actively encouraged this violence until Rykard dared to turn it against them instead.

[plussizefantasia]

Good Punkins

Flufftober Day 21: Pumpkin Patch

Steve Rogers x f!mom!reader

Word Count: 2.7k (actually the longest fic I've written to date)

Warnings: reader is a mom in this one, she is referred to as Mamma several times so if that's not your jam don't read this.

AN: Holy crap this went way beyond my original plan but I just love Steve and little man so much now. This story does have a part two coming later (on day 30). Feedback and reblogs are always encouraged! Thank you for reading.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

Steve was an amazing husband. The two of you were married six years ago and within a year you were expecting. Nine months later, Caleb James Rogers was born and you realized something amazing. Steve was an amazing husband, but he was an even better father.

Little Caleb wanted for nothing, but he wasn’t spoiled. He was adventurous and kind and everything that you could ever want in a child. Even as a baby, he wasn’t very fussy. When he was all it took was Steve lifting him into his large arms and cooing at the infant to get him to calm down. At first, you were a little jealous that Steve seemed to have the golden tough when it came to your son, but you couldn’t help the overwhelming feelings of adoration for your husband every time you saw the two of them together.

Caleb was an extremely curious child, he also didn’t like being left out. When you had driven the two of you home last week after picking him up from and he had seen the new decorations your neighbors had put out for Halloween it was no surprise when he asked, “Mamma, why dey have punkins?” You dread the day when he’s able to say the word pumpkin.

“Why do you think they have pumpkins, baby?” You returned.

“Dunno Mamma, but they gots faces in them.” 

“Some of them do yeah,” you opened the door to your house and watched as Caleb climbed up the singular step that led up to your door. You don’t know who designed it, but your little tyke has tripped on it more than once and you’ve made sure to be very watchful every time he tries again.

At the sound of the front door opening, Steve made his way towards the entryway of your home. He looked soft, as he usually did nowadays and you couldn’t love it more. Steve had hung up the shield when Caleb was born and since then he let his hair grow out, and bought a few more pairs of sweats and at your insistence shirts that fit him. He didn’t have abs anymore but that didn’t mean the strength had gone away, just that he was more worried about his family and being there for every moment than staying in peak shape.

“Buddy! How was school?” Steve got down on one knee in order to intercept the charging little boy.

“It was so funs Daddy! I got to play on the park and Mrs. Hilly gave me two gold stars today.” Steve lifted Caleb off the ground and cradled him against his hip. He began walking the two of them towards the kitchen.

“Two stars? That’s great bud.”

“Yeah and on da way home I saw punkins on the ground. Mamma says some of them face faces.”

“Yeah, it’s October buddy, that means some people have started decorating.”

“Decorating for what Daddy?”

“Decorating for Halloween.”

“Can we decorate for Halloween?”

“I don’t see why not, do you want to get a pumpkin and put a face on it with me?” Steve smiled at his son and shifted his eyes towards yours.

“Yes! Can we go gets one now Daddy?”

“Not now baby, we can go this weekend though.” You interrupted, noticing the look on Steve's face. He had a hard time saying no to Caleb and you knew that he was about to go put his shoes on and drive thirty minutes away to the nearest pumpkin patch just to see his little boy smile.

‘But I wants to go now, Mamma.” Your little boy whined.

‘I know baby, but if we go now we won’t have enough time to do all the fun things there. Don’t you want to be able to do all of the things they have?”

“What else do the punkin people have?”

“Um, well they usually have a corn maze and tractor rides. They might have a big ol’ room of corn that you can play in as you do at the park. And they might even have animals you can pet.” You said, thinking back to your childhood memories of going to pumpkin patches with your family.

“They have all of that?” His eyes had gotten wide.

“Yeah baby, they have tons of stuff but if we go tonight we won’t have time to do any of it. But if we wait until Saturday we’ll be able to spend the whole day there.”

‘I want to spend forever there!” 

“I don’t know about forever buddy, you still have to go to school but we can spend the whole day on Saturday how does that sound?” Steve asked the little boy.

“Sounds good Daddy.”

And so, three days later your little family of three loaded into the SUV all bundled up for a cool day at the pumpkin patch, and made your way further out of town and towards the fall-themed activity.

Your little boy was in the backseat singing along to the songs on the radio and occasionally asking nonsensical questions to either you or Steve. And both of you tried your best to answer them as seriously as you could.

Half an hour later you pulled into the farm and Steve rolled around the dirt parking lot looking for an open spot. It wasn’t too busy which you were grateful for, Steve may not exactly be Captain America anymore but that didn’t mean that he doesn’t still get recognized.

Steve parked the car and jumped out before you could start unbuckling Caleb. You rounded your way to the trunk to grab the backpack you had packed full of some extra snacks, a light blanket in case anyone got cold, and a hat and scarf for Caleb in case he needed it. Your husband and son joined you a moment later, Caleb holding onto Steve’s hand and practically bouncing in place.

“Alright baby, we need to go get our tickets to get inside and then we can do whatever you want.”

“Otay Mamma.” 

You passed through the ticket line with ease and without much time passing at all, you were inside. You checked your phone for the time, 10:30. 

“Alright baby, what do you want to do first?” You asked, looking towards your son and patiently waiting for him to make his decision. Caleb scanned his surroundings taking in all there was to do and weighing his options carefully. His eyes landed a little ways away at a large pile of hay that several other children were climbing on top of and running up the side.

“Look, Daddy! A mountain of straw!”

“I see buddy, you wanna go play?” Caleb screamed his assent and grabbed his father’s hand pulling him towards the miniature mountain. You followed behind them and took a seat on a nearby bench to watch your boys have their fun.

Steve would lift Caleb into the sky so he could get to the top and then the little boy would count down and push himself down the hill like a slide. Several times, he would just run straight at the pile and bury himself in the looser straw on the surface. At one point Caleb, convinced Steve to climb to the top of the pile and all at once all of the children playing tried to push him off. You laughed loudly and took pictures the entire time.

Eventually, though your baby boy got a little tired and made his way towards you. He was breathing heavily and his entire body was covered in straw. You pulled a few stray pieces from his hair and offered him one of the juice boxes you had packed.

Steve too came towards your sitting place, also covered head to toe in straw. When you arched a single eyebrow at him and looked him up and down, a small plush, and sheepish expression crossed his face and he looked down at his shoes.

When Caleb’s breathing returned to normal you asked him what he wanted to do next and he immediately perked up.

“You said there would be animals to pet Mamma?” 

“Yeah, baby I think they have some goats if you wanna pet those.”

The rest of the day followed similarly. Caleb running from activity to activity. Sometimes you joined in, sometimes Steve, sometimes both of you. He was having a blast and you were so happy he was getting to make these fun memories like you had. 

Caleb played in the corn pit for a little while, he fed the goats and took a ride on the mini-tractor coaster for the kids. He also had his face painted and the three of you had your photo taken next to the sixteen-foot-tall scarecrow. You all had hotdogs and apple cider for lunch and Caleb insisted that he wanted to go play on the hay pile again.

“When can we get out punkin Mamma?” Caleb said after his third yawn of the last hour. Your little man was fading and fast.

“Right now Baby, let's go get in line for the tractor ride and then we can go out and get our pumpkins. Caleb turned towards Steve and lifted his arms at his father, asking without words to be picked up.

Steve hoisted your son into his arms and the three of you made your way to the actual line to go into the patch. It was nearing time for dinner and you wanted to be able to get your pumpkins and go home before Caleb completely conked out.

One short tractor ride later and the three of you were immersed in the sea of orange gourds. Caleb seemed to perk up when he saw all of the pumpkins and began excitedly running from row to row inspecting them.

Steve and you strolled hand in hand along with him, both of you with soft smiles on your faces as you watched the little man you created having a wonderful day.

“Thank you.” Steve had said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

“For what?” You laughed.

‘For this” He gestured towards Caleb, also lifting your intertwined hands and placing a kiss on the back of yours, “I never thought I’d get this, so thank you.” You leaned in and softly kissed him, taking your time to let him know through your affection that you’d do just about anything for him. 

“Well then, Thank you too.” You said as you pulled back. 

“Mamma! Daddy! Come on, come look!” Your attention was drawn to your son, jumping up and down next to a couple of pumpkins he seemed to have lined up.

“What did you find bud?” Steve asked when the two of you got close enough.

“Good punkins, we can put faces on dem.” he pointed at the three pumpkins he had lined up. You had to admit, it seemed like Caleb had a knack for picking pumpkins. The ones he had grabbed were practically perfect, with only one of two spots on them.

“Good job, baby these are great ones.” You ruffled his hair. “Alright, we gotta bring them back to the tractor so we can take 'em home. You wanna grab one?” He just nodded and went to grab the biggest of the three.

“How ‘bout Daddy take this one and you can take that one,” Steve said pointing toward the other pumpkin on the ground.

“Otay Daddy, but if you need help let me know.” You both softly laughed at how sweet your little boy was.

“Sure thing, buddy.” Steve hiked the largest pumpkin onto one shoulder and went to grab the stem of the one in his arms.

“What are you doing?” You asked him as he lifted the pumpkin from your hands.

“What was the point of marrying a super soldier if you don’t take advantage of the strength.”

“I didn’t marry you for your strength, I married you for your rugged good looks.”  You responded and he let out a large guffaw followed by a smaller stream of laughter laughter.

Without your arms full you were free to take pictures of the father-son duo carrying their pumpkins side by side toward the tractor. You helped Caleb load his pumpkin up into the wagon that the passengers rode in and watched as he climbed up the steps into the wooden structure. Steve followed after you and the three of you in the corner with the pumpkins at your feet.

When the wagon started moving it began sort of rocking side to side, lulling your little boy closer and closer to sleep. You were sort of impressed that he had lasted that long and pulled him into your lap so that he could be more comfortable. Not even five minutes later he was asleep with his head rested against your shoulder and his arms around your neck.

The tractor pulled back into the main area of the farm and you had to disembark and grab your pumpkins so that other people could have their turn.

Before you could even start to get up with your sleeping son in your arms, Steve had taken him and lifted him onto his shoulders. He had one of Caleb’s legs on either side of his head and the torso of the little boy was leaning on his head, his little hand resting on Steve’s forehead. 

Since he had taken the boy you went to go grab one of the pumpkins but Steve had beaten you to that too. In some miracle, Steve had managed to hold onto not only the sleeping little boy, but all three pumpkins and get off the wagon without jostling any of them too much.

“Steven Grant, let me carry a damn pumpkin.” You chased after your husband, attempting to relieve him of at least one of the decently sized pumpkins. 

“Let me think about that.” He kept walking.

“Steve seriously, I look so mean making you carry everything.”

“You’re not making me do anything Honey, I’m doing this of my own free will.”

“Well, will your free will at least let me grab Caleb.”

“He’s comfy up there”

“Yeah mamma, comfy” a little sleep-riddled voice replied from your husband’s shoulders. And Steve let a smirk of victory cross his face.

“Whatever.” You huffed. Following next to your husband and hoping that nobody else thought you were some kind of nightmare woman who made your husband carry everything.

It was a short trek after that to the car and you began to increase your pace so that you’d be able to open the door for Steve to be able to transfer Caleb back into his car seat, but Steve matched your pace easily and you watching as his smirk continued to grow.

He got to the car first and instead of depositing the pumpkins in the trunk, or going to put Caleb in his seat, Steve opened the passenger door for you and gestured for you to get it.

“You’re kidding.” You deadpanned.

“I got this Honey, just get in the car.”. You didn’t argue just shook your head with exasperation and climbed into the car. Turning the heat on and getting the directions home pulled up on your phone.

Meanwhile, Steve, who you’re now convinced was a juggler in a previous life is opening the hatch of the trunk and placing all three pumpkins plus your backpack that you didn’t even realize he had into the space. He pulled Caleb down from his shoulders and placed a kiss on his head. Closing the trunk, he made his way around to Caleb’s door and opened it without moving the sleeping boy an inch. Steve flawlessly deposited him into this seat and buckled him up with astonishing speed and you had to admit to yourself that watching Steve do all of this was turning you on more than you thought it would.

Finally, Steve opened his door and climbed into the car, starting the engine and looking to you for the go-ahead to leave.

You just leaned across the consul and placed a large kiss on his cheek. Making him smile like a schoolboy.

“I love you.” You had said.

“I love you too.” He had replied before shifting the car into reverse and beginning the half-hour drive home.

You looked into the back seat at the tuckered-out boy in his car seat and thanked the universe and Steve all over again for giving you such an amazing little gift.

[writingsofwesteros]

Hello love.

I don't know if I can post that or is it right day for that , but this thought of mine keep floating in my head. It can be easily place on wednesday when yandere theme is coming in.

Maegor the Cruel didn't get his nickname for no reason. We know how he was and how much he loved to marry many women who, to his frustration, did not give him any children. What do you say about little sister reader who was born maybe few years after him , and even as a young child he was obsessed with the child. He grow up with the idea thath reader is his and only his. His to love , his to claim.

When Maegor finally claims iron throne his first order is to the reader , she marry him , she will be his lady wife , even when he has others. And to the young Targaryen's surprise, her brother treats her with a decent dose of gentleness and love while committing the cruelest act known to man before her eyes. His obsession and possessiveness knows no bounds, especially when she becomes pregnant shortly after their wedding night. He takes her every time he can, even when she is heavily pregnant , it's only encourage him more. Of course other wives are not happy, trying to do everything to get reader in some sort of trouble. It would've been souch a drama.

AN: In the stupid office tomorrow so posting this a little early - I have another scheduled for when I come back tomorrow afternoon - between larys and Criston ;)

I am so interested in him and I really should not be!

We need a face claim!!?? 

The drama would be like a soap Oprah but so much more darker. He would end up locking reader away in her own tower if he begins to believe their lies. On the flip side, they might enjoy how his attention is always on Y/N. At least it’s not on them and they still get the perks.

At least the reader would be looked after and not want for anything..except freedom but I imagine she does not even know what that is, with growing up with him. A golden cage for sure.

So many children. Breeding Kink Galore over here with this man. Poor girl. Would he care if her labours got progressively worse or she might have easy pregnancies...charming him even more.

For sure a way of controlling her too. He would take them away if he thinks she needs punishing. 

Cockwarming - on the THRONE!!!! He does not care even as Y/N hides into his neck; shyness moving. 

[galactiquest]

Hi call me blueberry anon or just blue!

I was hopin to ask with Vash and Knives with an Angel!reader g/n.

Like you know when Vash and Knives show their true selves and reader dont give a shit because they literally have giant ass wings and multiple eyes yknow like one of those biblical accurate angel but more human.

If its too specific just ignore this JDJKDKDKDK (ps when i said show their true selves i immediately thought of those wolf alpha vids on tiktok)

Hello Blueberry Anon~ I'm sorry that this took longer than usual to get to, I promise I wasn't ignoring or forgetting this request! College woes... (´Д｀)

I think this is a super cute idea and I'm always a sucker for a chaotic angel or devil or any sort of creature really. (Probably why I enjoy writing about Vash and Knives being little beasts so much LOL)

Vash and Knives x Angel!Reader: Heaven

Content warnings: None, but the descriptions of multiple eyes/wings might be offputting to some. Otherwise just fluff!

Vash

I take Vash as someone who's really accepting of everyone else's differences--even to the point where he'll feel a sort of disdain towards his own differences because of it.

But when he learns about your otherworldly nature? He's immediately curious. He really can't help himself.

He wants to ask a lot of questions. How do you hide your wings? Are humans afraid of you? Do you have any sorts of powers? Does this mean you're immortal--wait, are you here on a mission?!

Whether you indulge him or not in answers is up to you. He won't pry (but he might whine a little if you tell him it's a secret).

Now that he knows you're different, he wants to embrace it as much as possible. He's always trying to compliment how soft your wings are, how radiant and sparkling your eyes are, etc.

I think this especially goes for the '98 iteration of Vash--the "did it hurt when you fell from Heaven" pickup line. Feel free to respond with "yeah, actually, a lot" to get him sputtering and scrambling to apologize.

Knives

When you explain it to him, he's very quiet at first, running all possible responses through his head. What he doesn't say (but is thinking) is that he's thankful you're not human (because admitting he loves a human is an utterly impossible feat!).

He also hopes, deep down, that since you're inhuman, you might better understand his intentions for a world without humans. (Of course, if you're the kind of angel who's sent to help humans, this goes against your direct orders... cue troubles!)

He has a deep respect for your otherworldly self, being not of the planet himself, so he takes a lot of time to study and understand you to the fullest.

He's especially intrigued if you have repeating features--multiple eyes, pairs of wings, floating motes of flame, spinning golden rings, that kind of stuff. He really enjoys symmetry and repetition. (Vash does, too, but he'll appreciate from afar.)

He encourages you to take your "natural" form more often, rather than sculpting yourself into a more humanoid form. If this more "natural" form is imperceptible/cosmically incomprehensible to him, he won't mind. (Okay, he might be a little sad if he can't see you in all your blazing glory, but he won't make it obvious.)

I think there's definitely a case here for a "fallen angel" type deal--you've fallen from the sins of humanity, and now you've joined up with Knives in order to restore what should have been. Or maybe you find more worth in each other...

End notes: I finished this up on mobile so the formatting might be off. I promise I'll fix it tomorrow!

[gold-rhine]

Sub! Thoma x Dom! Gn Reader

Warnings: nsfw, minors please get out, edging, praise kink, service play, slight degradation, chastity cage, overstim, vibrator, oral (reader receiving), ruined orgasms. Fluff. Yes, I said fluff, and I mean it.

Wordcount: 4k

A\N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. as always, filth is under the cut, don’t worry. If you’re a worldbuilding purist and vibrator bothers you, pretend it’s from Fountaine. If they already have cameras, they can manage vibrators.

Thoma is just great. He would almost be too sweet if he didn’t have another side as a problem-solving fixer or didn’t have a spine.

And he does have a spine, unarguably, he threw a spear at the face of his country’s god during her one-hit kill boob-nuke move. So when he submits to you, you know he’s doing it by choice and not because he’s a pushover, which makes it even better.

Like Diluc, he's a dedicated pyro workaholic who will not take care of his own needs or pleasure unless he’s literally forced to, but unlike Mond’s Batman, Thoma is not on 27 layers of dissociation and is actually aware of what he wants.

It’s not that he couldn’t be smth more ambitious than a housekeeper, it’s that the combination of mild OCD and people-pleasing motivation make both housekeeping and being a fixer a very rewarding occupations for him, and why be ashamed of something that makes you happy.

Thoma’s natural impulse when he sees something wrong or out of order is to fix it, and the scale doesn’t really matter - from spilled coffee, to trade deal disputes, to tyrannical government decree. And because of his indifference to the scale, he doesn’t turn this world-bettering into a grand mission or an isolating burden of responsibility, unlike SOME people, and therefore manages to have one of the healthiest mentalities out of all genshin workaholics.

His biggest turn-on is bringing pleasure to the partner and he will always put others' satisfaction above his own, which is why he can top if that’s the best way to please his lover, but his ideal role is a service sub.

with proper encouragement, he’ll be very open and needy, but also bashful enough to be fun to tease when you want to. Literally best of both worlds.

You might not appreciate Thoma or not find him interesting compared to other, loudly flashy characters, everyone has a right to have no taste.

He might be ready for almost anything to please you after you’ve already made him yours, but he has his quiet dignity. He will not be advertising if you don’t notice first.

He’s a bite of a fresh green apple, warm from being left in the summer sun, a tangible pleasure to sink your teeth in, with just enough tanginess to offset the sweetness. A breathy laugh, ruffled sunset-gold hair, agile body, always in motion, green-grass bright eyes, a late spring on the cusp of turning to summer, warm and sunny, but not yet stifling hot. Golden time, all yours to claim, but very easy to miss if inattentive.

Has a praise kink, obviously, but whatever he does for you, he will never ask for the compliments himself. He can be easily persuaded to beg, but not for praise - he needs to be complimented not because he asked you to, but because he’s earned it.

Also likes degradation at the same time. In the hangout event he was like “Nooo, traveler, don’t stop these authorative men from openly disparaging me, I don’t mind. Despite the fact that I have more than enough influence as both Ritou fixer and closest confidant of the Kamisato clan siblings to put an end to it myself. It just doesn’t bother me haha.”

Yeah okay, sure, whatever you say, babe.

Has a highkey oral fixation. Not only the balls-eating idle animation. But also completely unprompted, out of nowhere basically railroaded his friends into doing a weird “game” where you have to guess the unknown weird foods just by taste and texture. Brought the weirdest foods and tasted them the most for no reason until he’s literally got sick. Like, you didn’t have to go this hard, king, your friends were just sitting there confused anyway, it wasn’t even a competition.

Later brings up said event as a fun time that he’d like to repeat

Yeah okay, SURE, whatever you say, babe.

Someone please fuck this man on the mouth with a variety of differently shaped and textured dildoes to satisfy his need for interesting mouthfeels and save him from another indigestion.

Thoma’s biggest insecurity is belonging. Caught between two heritages, disconnected from Mondstadt, but always seen as an outsider in Inazuma. He found his place in the Yashiro commission, and he threw himself fully into his work for this sense of belonging, but secretly and, as he thinks, selfishly, Thoma yearns for someone to want him just for himself, not for his skills. And not just to want him, to claim him, own him fully, without stipulations, to reward or punish him as you see fit, but to know that he’s completely, undoubtedly, unquestionably yours.

His enjoyment of chastity cage stems from both of his main preferences, first, it’s a constant, tangible proof of belonging to you, more permanent than any mark on the skin could be. Second, it appeals to his cheeky part that enjoys the thrill of having a hidden side, like  “oh, you think that i’m just a humble housekeeper, but I’m actually a resourceful influential fixer, but you’ll never know that :3”

He’s not clingy, but he blooms when given attention, like a sunflower quietly turning to the sun. He cherishes anything - from the smile and quick peck on the cheek, to slap on the ass or you dragging him into a broom closet and fucking him against the wall while he bites his handguard to stifle moans. The anticipation that you might ask for anything from him at any moment sparks deep in his belly like a small flickering candleflame.

Like any pyro, he loves a challenge, but because Thoma is like the farthest you can get from a brat, he doesn’t like challenging you, but enjoys endurance or patience tests, and the more he has to work for it, the sweeter the reward will feel.

If he’s only left one room to clean, you can order him to do it with a remotely controlled bullet vibrator in his ass and enjoy the show of him struggling to keep his composure and finish the job.

At first he tries really hard to pretend it’s not affecting him at all and go on as usual, but you notice his hitched, and then quickened breath, tensed body, his movements are stifled in comparison to his usual easy fluidity, he’s stealing quick glances at you from the half lowered eyelashes.

As it gets worse, you can see him breathing through the mouth, swallowing harshly, his hips twitching, so you ramp up the vibrator’s setting and he almost doubles over the table he was wiping, gasping from surprise. For some time, he struggles to get a hold of himself, his thighs shaking, fists clenching on the table’s surface, but then manages to get back to cleaning, his hands a little trembling, but still careful and melticiuos and you turn the intensity down. You don’t want this game to end too quickly.

Of course, you can cheat and tease him directly, starting from fleeting caresses, to stealing kisses and getting in his way and groping. He’s left with his clothing ruffled, shirt riding up from when you slid your hands under it, pants half-undone by you and hanging on hipbones. He blushes, but doesn’t fix his clothes, because you made a point of leaving them like that, and the way you watch him with obvious desire riles him up just as much as the bullet pulsing inside of him. It takes all of his willpower to not go to you, collapse at your feet and beg to touch him, fuck him, let him finish.

Finally, there’s only one bookshelf left to dust, and at this point Thoma is no longer even trying to keep up the pretenses, he’s squirming, letting out shaky gasps, lightheaded from mix of desire and ache in his aroused cock, cage feeling more and more painfully tight. He’s steeling himself, taking deep breaths, because by the archons, he’s not going to let some dusty wood planks get the best of him.  

He’s so focused on his goal that he doesn’t notice how you approach him, until you hug him from behind, so he shudders, letting out a surprised gasp, and you chuckle.

“So, how is it going, baby?” you ask with an innocent tone, but your mouth is pressed to his ear, and you feel him shiver from your warm breath.

“Great,” he manages to start out with an upbeat tone and a smile, but then you start kissing his neck and sliding your hands under his shirt, and his voice gets wobbly. “I’m… ah, I’m… so close…” you find his nipples and they harden immediately under your touch, forcing a shaky, needy moan out of him before he can continue, “Almost done… just…mmmhm… just a bookshelf…” you twist his nipples and buck your hips against his ass, and he arches in your arms, “Oh, fuck, please!”

He’s too fucking delicious, so you turn him over and press him against the wall, claiming his mouth. He’s such a good kisser, even half out of breath and out of mind like this.

“No, I can’t let you fuck the bookshelf, babe,” you tease, smiling. “That would just be a mess.”

He starts rolling his eyes at your joke, but ends up with his throat arched, your lips trailing kisses under his jaw.

“Wait, I didn’t finish…”

You smirk and pull his pants down to the thighs in one abrupt motion. “Oh, you’re definitely going to finish.”

He blushes, but meets your eyes anxiously. “You mean, like that?..”

“Yeah, with your pretty cock still caged, darling.”

He blushes even more brightly and swallows hard, but doesn’t argue, doesn’t complain, doesn’t ask you to take it off, despite how uncomfortably tight it feels, despite knowing that coming like that won’t bring him pleasure or even relief, just frustration. It’s been a few days, and he wants to finally be allowed a real orgasm so badly, but he follows your order like a good, obedient boy that he is.

He lets the last dregs of his control go, because that’s how you want to see him, submits to your caresses, and the world drowns in a delirious, needy haze of desire. He hears his own filthy, shuddering moans without realizing it’s him making them, basks in how you rake your eyes over him in hunger, exposed, writhing against the wall under you, blushing cheeks and parted lips, shirt pulled up to the collarbones and pants pulled down to the thighs.

It’s worth the sweet, maddening torture of his aching dick and overstimmed, abused prostate for how you claim him, your hands and lips all over his body, your tongue sliding inside his mouth, it’s overwhelmingly too much and desperately not enough. He isn’t sure how much time has passed, every moment feels like stretched out, agonizing eternity, until he can’t take it anymore.

He comes with a half-choked moan, his legs going weak, and slides down against the wall, panting. You kneel down next to him, kiss his face and whisper praises as he’s trying to catch his breath, and reach between his legs to take the bullet out.

But instead of switching it off, you press it against his cock, sending a violent jolt through his entire body.  He gasps, his bright green eyes going wide in disbelief.

“Shhh, baby, I just need you to cum one more time for me,” you tell him, kissing his cheekbones tenderly. His cage has an opening that leaves part of the cockhead exposed, it’s swollen, red and throbbing against the bullet.  

“No, please, I can’t,” he gasps for air with an open mouth like he’s drowning, presses his back against the wall in an instinctive urge to get away.

“Of course you can, baby,” you catch his chin, forcing him to look at you. “You are mine, aren't you?”

“Yes,” you can feel his throat moving under your fingers when he swallows.

“And your cock is my favorite pretty plaything. So I need you to come for me again like my good little whore.”

“It hurts,” he moans weakly and shuts his eyes, blushing brilliantly, his gasps turn into quiet whimpers. His body is twitching, nails scraping helplessly on the floor, but he still hasn’t said the safeword, so you keep the bullet pressed to his throbbing cock.

“I know, baby,” you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his parted lips. “But I want to have you whole. I want to take everything you have, sunflower, and I know you can still give me more.”

His arm springs up abruptly and for a second you think he’ll try to push you away, but instead he finds your free hand and intertwines his fingers with yours.  

“Yes,” he whimpers shakily and looks up at you, his eyes bright and glittering green from tears. “Oh, please, please…”

He looks incredible like this, luminous in combination of filthy hunger and naked tenderness, an exposed, helpless mess, writhing on his knees, trying to spread legs that are caught in half-undone pants on his thighs

his cheeks glowing bright red, he’s keening and begging, without even knowing what he begs you for, with wet parted lips, chest raising in heavy feverish breathing, cum from his first orgasm still staining his cage and stomach, the swollen, pulsing tip is leaking under your finger when you thumb his slit with the same hand that holds the bullet against it.

Сompletely undone, unraveled, tortured and trembling, but nonetheless, he’s clutching at your hand, reaching, leaning into you with desperate need.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” you squeeze his hand, press yourself against him as he whines, and you can tell he’s close by how the muscles of his abs tighten, his thighs tense. “Show me how good you can be.”

He comes with a choked, broken sound, half-moan, half-sob. You hold him as he’s shaking, pepper his face with kisses, whisper praises as he’s trying to catch his breath.

“Good boy. You are such a delight to have, my little treasure.” His body is full of raw-nerved, unreleased tension, but your words add a maddeningly sweet undercurrent, shiver that runs down his spine, makes the torturous frustration worth it if you’ve enjoyed him. “You’ve been so good for me, I’ll even let you choose your reward. If you want, I will take off your cage and make you cum until you lose your voice from screaming.”

His breath hitches, eyes light up in hungry anticipation, but you continue.

“Or, I’ll let you serve me. I’ll fuck your pretty mouth.”

“Let me serve you,” he answers without hesitation and you smile, because you always knew what he'd choose.

Few minutes later, he’s kneeling at your feet, already naked except for the handcuffs and the cage, the longer strands of his molten gold hair falling freely over the sculpted shoulders. He’s quiet, but he’s looking up at you in restrained anticipation.

“Are you sure, baby? You can still change your mind.”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation, nuzzling at your knee. “I’m sure.”

“I might not let you out today at all.”

“I know,” he kisses your knee, rubs his cheek against it pleadingly, looking you in the eye. “Please… Use me.”

You smile, let him start slowly, trail a line of kisses up your thigh until he presses his mouth to your sex. It’s not the first time you use his mouth, so he knows what you like, eager lips and searching tongue. He looks up at you, watching for all signs of pleasure: heavy breath, narrowed eyes, bitten lip. You slide your hand into his hair, stroke it softly and he hums in appreciation. When your hips buck against his face, you can feel his moan reverberating against your flesh.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you forcibly pull him closer, fuck his mouth as he goes slack, his eyelashes flutter, warm and willing for you to take.

You slow down a little bit, just enough to hear him make a tiny choked noise, caught deep in his throat, see him look up at you from under half-lowered lashes with glistening, dizzyingly grateful green eyes.

When you finish, it’d be enough for him to cum if he wasn’t caged still, so when you let him go, he slumps against your leg, breathing heavily through his bruised mouth, his ragged breaths hot against your skin.

“Thank you,” he whispers, blush on his cheeks heating up against your knee, just barely loud enough for you to catch it.

You take him to the bed, throw him on his back, and he lies sprawled helplessly in front of you, delirious from the constrained pleasure, watching you with bated breath.

“You’ve been very good, my treasure,” you whisper, looming over him, move the unruly bangs, no longer held by a headband, from his forehead. His hair is too bright and saturated for a blonde, not dark and red enough for ginger, another duality caught in between, gold and tangerines, amber and buttercups, sunflower petals in the light of the late sunset.

“So even though you refused your reward, I’ll give you a chance to cum. If you can win a little game,” you smile, open his cage and slide it off. It goes slowly, with an effort, too tight around his swollen dick, and he shudders, sighs deeply when he’s finally free.

You press your palm against his cock and kiss the corner of his lips. “I’m afraid you’ll have to work for it, baby.”

He throws a glance at you, blushing, unsure. Is that all you’ll ask from him, to debase himself to show how much he wants it? That seems too easy for how far gone he is in his desires, but he doesn’t question you. He catches your mouth in an eager, sloppy kiss, thrusts his hips up, rubbing his cock against your hand.

You let his dick slide a few times against your palm, drink lovely, sweet moans from his lips, and then move your hand up, out of his reach. You chuckle as you watch him thrust helplessly into the air, groaning in frustration.

You only touch him again after he settles down, let him build up the rhythm, his thrusts turning quick and frantic as he’s getting closer to release. When you smirk and caress his cheekbones, he tenses, your grin is so teasing he expects a catch.

He waits for you to move your hand away again, but instead you lean down and sweetly tell him: “Slower.”

This catches him off guard, his eyes and mouth going wide in surprise and dismay. He has to brace himself forcefully to obey against his natural instincts. He grips at the bedsheets, but manages to slow himself down to half the speed.

You watch him struggle with a smile, his chest rising in heavy panting, parted lips, fingers clutching at the sheets, involuntary arch building in his spine as he focuses all his willpower on controlling his hips. You kiss a line down the exposed column of his throat, feel him shudder and his cock twitch against your palm, he almost bucks erratically, but catches himself at the last moment.

“Good boy,” you whisper, raking your fingers through his tangled hair. He meets your eyes, pleading, at once desperate and hopeful for release.

Instead, you tell him “Stop moving.”

He lets out a loud groan that breaks into a shaky whimper as he forces himself to pin his hips down to the bed. He throws his head back and arches his back, squeezing his eyes shut, his dick twitching against your palm and his knuckles whiten from how hard he’s clenching his fists. You run your hand up the length of his painfully hard, throbbing cock, provoking a moan, gently thumb at the slit of his swollen, leaking tip.

“Fuck, please, I’m so close, please…” he gasps for air with an open mouth, writhing under you as you kiss his jaw, slide your other hand over his body in tantalizing caresses, feel his muscles clench under your touch. You’re not so cruel to count this against him, because he does manage to keep himself from thrusting into your teasing hand as you slowly, maddeningly slowly stroke his cock, pearly string of precum dripping on his stomach.

“Very good, sunflower,” you whisper in his ear, feel his eyelashes flutter as he’s struggling to look at you. He’s so tense he’s shaking, sweat pooling on his temples and a trembling slope of his collarbones. You kiss his parted lips, cover his clenched hand with your own. “You’ve been such a delightful, beautiful plaything today. Come for me, you’ve earned it, baby.”

He comes undone immediately, with a desperate, strangled scream that he’s too unraveled to feel ashamed about. You pump his cock, let him ride out the pleasure he’s been waiting so long for, forcefully held control finally lost completely and his mind going completely blank, watch him thrashing under you until his screams turn to whimpers and he grasps at you and pulls you close.

Later in the shower he has no strength left, so you start cleaning him up yourself, and he tries protesting, but you gently pin him to the wall.

“Can I take care of my own little treasure, hm?” you ask him teasingly, and he laughs with both embarrassment and gratitude, melts under your touch.

You feel quite tired yourself, looking forward to finally getting to bed and falling asleep entangled in his warmth. But when you walk into the room, he slips out of your arms and starts tearing off sheets from the bed with amount of energy that he frankly should not be able to produce in this state.

“Babe. What are you doing? Cum didn’t even get on the sheets, it’s fine.”

“I’m not going to sleep on sweat-covered bedsheets,” he throws an affronted look over his shoulder as he’s pulling a new sheet over the frame. “I wasn’t raised in a barn.”

You sigh and watch him silently, until he grabs a pillow.

“Thoma. Thoma, what did the pillows do to you? We haven’t even touched them.”

“It’s going to bother me if the sheets are fresh and pillowcases aren’t. *And* if they don’t match.”

“I’m starting to think I’m taking the handcuffs off you too early,” you say sourly, and he chuckles, blushing faintly.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m almost done. Just a minute.”

He is done pretty quickly, but then you catch him eyeing the heap of bedsheets on the floor.

“Baby, if you try to start laundry right now, I will have to knock you unconscious for your own good.”

“I was just going to put it into a basket…”

“NO.”

He laughs airily, lets you drag him into bed, falling down next to you.

“But you have to admit, sleeping on clean linen is so much better.”

It is pretty great, it’s fresh and cool, and smells faintly of lavender.

“It’s nice,” you concede, pulling him close.

Thoma gives absolutely the best hugs and cuddles, firm, but not restrictive, like all pyro, he emanates warmth even when he’s not using his vision, but from him, it’s a lenient sunlight, not the aggressive heat of fire. Amber-hued protective bubble where nightmares seem stupid and everything is going to be alright, a feeling normally only achievable by months of therapy, being covered in puppies or copious amounts of drugs.

“But you are still crazy. I’m going to fuck you over the counter in the morning instead of the bed, so you don’t change the sheets *again.*”

He makes a content little noise, something between a chuckle and a purr.

“And what would you like to have for breakfast? Other than me, of course.”

“I don’t really care. Other than you, of course. Surprise me, sunflower.”

[imthejudge]

cruel intentions

Astarion x F!Tav

Word Count: 2.2k

Tags/Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, blood, all the fun stuff

Read on Archive

He supposes he shouldn’t have been surprised, looking back on it now.

The way her golden eyes flickered fleetingly to the exposed skin of his neck that dipped ever so slightly above where he’d rested the collar of his shirt the first time they’d met. Her gaze that felt like the forbidden rays of the sun upon his pale complexion scorning him even before he knew. 

Oh, the smirk that played and twisted her lips when she’d caught him in the early nights of their acquaintance and his thirst had ruled his better judgment. Much like the curve of her blade she’d sink deep in her foes drawing that same crimson reflecting in his own eyes. 

She craved blood, too. Only in a different way. 

How long did you know? He’d said

She simply smiled, full and never restrained or calculated as his. There wasn’t a time when I didn’t. 

He thinks that was the most genuine he’s ever seen her. He still wonders how he was ever blessed enough to have convinced her to offer herself up that night. A night so full of ecstasy at sinking his teeth into her flesh and sating more than his hunger. But a deep need. Coursing through his body like never before, so full of a pleasure he had not encountered nor anticipated. And not knowing if he would have been able to stop were it not for her forceful hand that felt like fire against his icy skin. 

They both continued like this, a routine between them saved for the darkest of nights in the most secluded of places. Far from any prying eyes, lest their companions catch on. It made the act all the more sweeter, all the more secretive, and it left him craving it all the more. To him it had become an oath. 

Part of him was sickened by such sentimentality at seeing it so, but he could not help how he reveled at the thought of how she might see it the same.

Not that she gave any indication outside of their shared salacious meetings. Did not give any hint at the fact that they’d grown so physically close while on the road or when caught in a fight. Her voice commanding as she spoke his name in giving an order. Whether to hang back to cling to shadows and wait for an opportune time to strike, or remain at her right side. Always her right, as she knew he worked best that way, as he’s grown to understand she covered him most effectively positioned there. 

Astarion, to my right. Eyes only lingering on him for a moment, brow creased in concentration and braced for combat. He tried not to seek out the validation he’d feel at her call, to acknowledge how his blood would heat when the fight had ceased and their enemies fallen. To take it as praise when she’d allow words of affirmation at their success occasionally pointed at him in specific. 

It meant little to the others if not for encouragement towards what they have yet to face. But for Astarion, it roused a deep part of himself he felt was long dead. Cursing himself at the stolen glances of her as she wiped the soot and ash from her face, sweat dripping down the side of her dark hair that stuck to her forehead. Along her temple to run all the way down to her neck past the collar of her armour and where he wished to follow it further. 

All that remained — all he looked forward to were those nights. Nights that chipped away at her hard and ruthless nature. There he could take her neck in his hands and hold onto the fickle intimacy that was always over too soon. How she’d lean into his touch as if melting in his hands, a stark contrast to that of who he knew her to be.

Asha. He longed to whisper her name against her own skin. And yet somehow he couldn’t. Something holding him back, for all the overly saturated and honeyed words he’d use on her in their passing conversations, to say her name would be to go too far. 

When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet crave only to die again with you.

Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.

He could even say everyone’s favorite little words, I love you, and he has. With enough conviction to fool most. But not all.

Him and his scandalous mouth. His obvious overdramatic and flirtatious behavior always did evoke a person's true perception of him. Take Shadowheart, whose immediate reaction never failed to cause a blush to creep along her complexion followed by a scowl and her attention to go askance. 

Or Lae’zel, who’s disgust becomes too prominent as if radiating off of her, a most welcoming and inspiring reception to his words. And Wyll, who took it in stride yet also gave the faintest of interest, a feat most surprising. 

Asha, though, never let up. There was never any indication as to how she took any of his words that remained dripping with sweetness. How they did stir her, he could never tell. And it drove him all the more curious and desperate to know when faced only with that exterior made of stone, or that smile of hers that she’d press her stained lips into as if to humiliate him, as if to show him she knew how to keep a secret, and keep it well. 

Further into madness it drove him, much to his own confinement. As no one else knew but her, and he hoped she could not pick up on the restlessness that grew within him. How the need would crawl across his skin in an itch that he could never be fully rid of. To crave to have more of her. 

It came almost as a dream, then, the night the moon hung low and emitted a pale glow as if to mock him. The hours that passed into the night unbeknownst to him as he idly flickered through pages of a well-loved tome. The embers of the fire dying and a hush that fell over their companions as they slowly retreated to sleep. 

Not a particularly interesting evening for him to make note of, as he had no intention of seeking to quench his thirst tonight. A disappointing revelation due to it being too soon to the last time, and yet he could not help the piqued attention of his ears that drew him to the eased footsteps coming towards him. 

Only to look up and witness her before him. Her pronounced silhouette accentuated by the brightness of the moon and her lack of armour. Jagged edges and steel replaced by casual attire. He straightens from where he lounges, instinctively closing shut his book to give her all of his attention. Muscles already tensing for him to stand and follow her anywhere. Anywhere. 

But all his plans are ruined in a blink of an eye when she places her fingers against his shoulder to keep him from moving. “Don’t get up.” 

He doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to, a paralysis consisting of shock that keeps him seated and looking up at her both in expectation and slight question. His brow furrowing, his lips parting as if to ask. 

With quick wit and fast hands, actions he’d once considered his own, she trails her slender finger from his shoulder to his mouth. “Shhh... you wish to wake the others?” 

It was not so much a question as it was a threat, and all he could do was shake his head and swallow a lump that had begun to form in his throat. Suddenly wanting for nothing but her touch, however slight it may be. 

“Mmm, that’s what I thought.” 

Her knee slides between his legs, easily parting them at the same time as she takes hold of the book that’s gone slack in his grasp. He’s left to stare in continued awe as she lowers to set it upon the ground, eyes never breaking from his even as they become heavy lidded. 

She turns, without saying a word, with a fluid movement to sit atop his lap, his hands instantly on either side of her waist as her back presses lightly into his chest. His mind goes blank, if not only aware of his quickened breaths. If he still had a heartbeat, he’d know it would’ve quickened, too. 

His mouth turns dry, tongue darting out to lick his lips with hunger, no longer in control when his hips twitch in urgency under her weight. 

She meets his gaze again with a look over her shoulder that shows a hunger as equal as his, a delicate hand coming up to pull back her raven hair to expose her slender neck. 

He pulls her back against him, sinking his pointed teeth deep within the crook that has become all too familiar. She lets out a sharp gasp, and combined with how she presses down atop his thighs in a movement he knows is intentional, he cannot help the involuntary thrust from his hips. The rhythmic act overcomes him. 

Soon he is gripping her sides, his nails digging into the exposed skin there as her shirt rides up, grinding into her hips with a desperation as his need for release steadily climbs. 

How hard he is beneath her, using what little strength he retains in his arms to press her down right as she arches her back in a way that has him begging to moan her name. 

The fangs sunk deep into her neck release as he gasps greedily for air causing a sharp inhale that sounds from her at its sting. It’s motivation for her to grind down harder against him and bring a palm to his cheek, “Keep going, sweet prince.” 

His pace stutters at her words. Words dipped in a sweetness he’s wielded for countless lifetimes now used against him to cause him to teeter on the edge of release. All he can do is obey, allow his body to keep going as he lets his tongue follow the trail of blood that’s trickled down to her collarbone and sink his teeth back in to suck harder, one hand climbing up to wrap around her throat, head tilting back, his other hand reaching the warmth of her abdomen. 

It’s all too much, holding on, his body melded together with hers as he reaches the precipice of both agony and pleasure like he’s never known before. Anticipating to break with a hitch of his breath. Unraveling in the next instant, making him yearn for but a second more. A second longer that could have felt like another century passed fused to one another.

He trails a lazy kiss down her neck, heavy breathing mixed with hers and limbs that have become lead, leaving him to wonder how she was able to affect him like this without removing their clothes. She’s turned in his lap, cradled there to sit heavy against him as if she’s lost the ability to move, too. They stay molded like this for a while, bodies one in the same. 

Until all too soon she’s leaning away. He thinks she’ll disappear into the night, leaving behind only the cold air to stick to the sweat on his skin. Taking all her warmth with her and robbing him of the small yet indisputable flame that’s started up deep in his chest. The feeling of long-known solitude that he’d been acquainted with squandered if only for a moment in her presence. 

But she leans back only to bring a hand to his forehead where his hair curls, running her fingertips to push them aside with a gentleness he’d never have guessed of her. And then she’s smiling down at him, lips stretched out reflecting that same genuine mirth like the first time she’d allowed him to taste her.  

Her golden gaze like sunlight on him, reminiscent of the first time they’d met. But now, instead of bursting into flame like he’d feared the first time he stepped out of the shadows, he basked in it. That warm sensation growing past physical like when he learnt it could no longer hurt him anymore. The sensation like a warm embrace upon his skin. 

And when finally she stands, she bends down with the cruelest intentions to place a single kiss on his head. He thinks he could melt, perhaps even die. How could the simplest, if not most innocent of gestures be his complete and utter undoing? 

He does not know. But he does not ponder over this when she straightens, holding out a hand towards him. An invitation, to spend the remainder of the night with her. Not in further physical intimacy, he knows. But intimate all the same, terrifying. And yet he does not hesitate in accepting her offer and raising his palm to meet with hers. 

He knows in that instant that perhaps his clever words wielded like weapons were not such pretty lies like he’d imagined they were. That maybe, here in this moment, he’s become aware of the truth behind them after all this time. Not realizing their truth when first spoken, but how they have unfolded that way, always indented for her. Beautiful lies made true in her wake.

[firstofficerwiggles]

Happy Thot weekend! Congrats on finishing the semester!

Do you remember the Tik tok you sent me of Din sitting in a chair with legs spread wide and he taps with thigh to signal you to come sit in this lap?

I'm thinking of that with Sith Lord! Obi-Wan. You're in a meeting with him and other high ranking members of the first order. It's a pretty standard, boring, meeting that's more fluff than anything. Some of the officers are having disagreements about paperwork and efficiency. Obi finds this rather dull, though he loves a good chaotic argument. He looks over at you and pats his thigh for you to come sit. Everyone knows you're with the Dark Lord. No one questions it when you move to do what he asks. He praises you when you sit down. He promises to thoroughly reward you after the meeting with bending you over the table. Meanwhile he teases you with the force. Phantom touches trace up your thighs, chest, neck. Enough to make you squirm but not enough to satisfy your need for Obi. Obi takes immense pleasure in the effect he has on you. He's possessive and loves to show the power he has over you.

Idk I'm a slut for Sith!Obi. You've shown me the dark side and I'm obsessed. Lol.

Oooh, we are starting strong with my favorite new obsession Sith!Obi-Wan! An absolutely brilliant beginning to thot weekend. Welcome to the dark side 😈

Pairing: Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi x gender neutral reader

Rating: Explicit/Mature 18+ only

Note: I use my favorite pet name “sweetheart” in this but I am a firm believer that it can be used with everyone and is not inherently feminine

You stifle a sigh as yet another admiral argues that his fleet should be first in the Empire Day parade. It’s been a full week of meetings like this, all for an elaborate show of the Empire’s might and supremacy in the galaxy. As much as you’re looking forward to celebrating with everyone, you have to wonder how many galas, parades, and circuses are necessary, and why there needs to be an endless meeting for each one. 

Your eyes flick over to Lord Kenobi, resplendent in his white uniform, and looking rather bored himself as he sits to the side of the meeting room, comfortable in the luxurious leather-covered loveseat. Feeling your eyes on him, he turns his attention towards you, his golden gaze meets yours and a sly smile draws over his face. You feel a warmth come over you, a tingle that flows from your lower stomach to the rest of your body. Ghostly fingers brush over your cheek, caressing so softly you wonder if it is only a memory of the last time he touched you. Yet, the sensation continues, over your throat, across your collarbone, and then down your chest. Even though you’re dressed in your full uniform, it feels as though he is touching your bare skin. Your mouth falls open in a small gasp as you feel the invisible hand move between your legs. 

Obi-Wan’s smirk deepens, as he hears that soft breath leave your lips. He relaxes into his seat, placing his left arm on the back of the small couch, widening his body. Then he uncrosses his legs, spreading them open and shifting his hips upward in a movement that draws your eyes right to his growing arousal. With his right hand, he pats his thigh, a clear invitation for you to come join him.

You’re standing and moving towards him before you even realize that you’ve interrupted a heated argument about which uniforms the officers should wear on parade day. You mutter a quick, “Excuse me,” as all eyes are on you. Still though, you stride quickly over to your Dark Lord, always willing to give in to his whims. 

“You may continue,” Obi-Wan says lazily, paying the others almost no mind as he pats his lap again encouraging you to take your seat. Your arm winds around his neck as you settle onto his thigh. 

“That’s it, get comfortable, sweetheart,” he purrs to you, “I love it when you follow my instructions so well, I didn’t even need words this time.” 

His hand comes up to hold your jaw, making certain that you are looking right into his eyes, while his other arm has wrapped around you, low on your hips. 

“Shall we make this meeting more interesting? Hmm?” he inquires, his voice is low so that only you can hear him. You feel his Force fingers tracing over your skin once again. 

“Anything you desire, Lord Kenobi,” you reply with a soft smile, knowing that whatever he has in mind will certainly lead to your pleasure.

“What I really desire is to bend you over that table, and take you right in front of all these pompous windbags,” he tells you, his voice rich with want, “Would you like that? For me to show them all that you’re mine?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at his suggestion. Another gasp leaves you. You can’t say for certain whether it’s from shock or desire. You can feel him touching you with his mind, knowing exactly where his fingers will be most pleasurable, stroking and rubbing you in a way that makes your head spin. You lean into his otherworldly touch, yearning for more. You know he wants you to answer him though, so you manage to stumble a reply,

“Th-they all know I’m yours,” you reassure him.

“Perhaps they do.” 

Obi-Wan sounds so nonchalant, nothing in his voice betrays how well he’s working you up right now. But with the way your leg is pressed against him, you can feel how hard he is. 

“Although, perhaps it will solidify it for them that you are mine, if they see me railing into you, watching you take my cock like you were made for it.”

You can’t help the whimper that leaves your throat at his dirty words combined with the way he’s teasing you with the Force. The pleasure inside you is coiling tighter and tighter with each passing sweep of sensation. The room feels stifling and you squirm in his lap. It’s so much but still it’s not nearly enough. 

“Tell me that you want me to fuck you, sweetheart,” he demands in that velvet voice of his, “Tell me how you want it, how you need it.”

Your breath is coming in gasps now, as a shiver of embarrassment runs through you at how badly you do want it. The thought that he might actually carry out his idea, ravish you right in front of all of these officers, thrills you in a wholly unexpected way. 

“I do want it, my lord, and I don’t care who sees us, they should all know I’m yours,” you tell him, your words tumbling out as he keeps you right on the brink of an orgasm, “I want to feel you deep inside me, to feel you pressed against me, your weight on me, I need it so badly, I- I want to be full of your thick cock.”

“My, my, sweetheart, what a filthy mouth you have,” Obi-Wan drawls, before he pulls you into a deep open-mouthed kiss, heedless of whatever discussion is still going on in the room. 

When he breaks the kiss, you’re dizzy with pleasure. You’re so desperate for him that you’ll do anything he asks, and the naughty smile on his face tells you that he knows this. 

“This meeting is adjourned!” Obi-Wan announces in a loud voice, “Get out of my sight now.” And he waves the others away, sounding bored.

You watch dazed as the officers shuffle out of the room, and then you turn to your Dark Lord with a slightly puzzled expression. You were so certain he was going to do something more in front of them. 

“It pleases me to see you so willing,” he murmurs, “But I don’t like to share, and I think only I should get the pleasure of seeing you so thoroughly ruined.”

He leans closer to you, “Nevertheless, they should know for certain that you’re mine, so you be sure to scream that nice and loud for me. Now get on that table.”

Keep sending in your thots! It's going to be a very spicy weekend

@boomtowngirl @kavecika @becks-things @mysticalgalaxysalad @catsnkooks @starlightrows @tailorvizsla @bitchin-beskar @lilhawkeye3 @acourtofsnakes @grogusmum @buzzybeebee @deannie13 @ladykatakuri @noodlesfics @the-good-shittt @princessxkenobi @everythingyouwanted @jewfro24 @vaderthepotater @pinkiemme @laichka @elinedjarin @myeternalsin @kazthedestroyer @writeforfandoms @startrekkingaroundasgard @onabouteverything @beskarmermaid @flightlessangelwings

[angelynmoon]

"We're not calling Merlin." Arthur said as he stared at the mess of his Castle, "He deserves time away with Lancelot."

"But it's not coming off." Gwaine whined as he scrubbed.

"I know." Arthur said, "But if we call him he'll never let us babysit again."

"What do you think he'll do when he comes back tomorrow and sees the state of the Castle?" Gwaine asked as he threw his rag in the bucket and gestured, "He has been gone a day and look."

Arthur looked and sighed, the twins had seen not having their parents around as permission to use their Magic as they pleased and now every wall in the Castle was painted with a variety of colors and scenes, although, Morgana, Leon, and Elyan had caused a fair bit of the mess.

It hadn't stopped there either, the terrors had gone on a rampage and caused a dough explosion in the kitchens and the laundry was ruined, whites had been washed with a load of red Camelot capes and now all the knights' linens were an uneven pink color.

They had terrorized the chickens and Arthur thought Effie may have even hunted one for their dinner.

And now the group was nowhere to be found, Arthur had every one of his knights looking for them, though he knew Elyan would keep the children safe, the last thing Arthur needed was for them to still be missing when Lancelot and Merlin came back tomorrow.

"I don't know how Merlin keeps the Castle running." Arthur said, "He's been gone a day and everything is broken."

"You should give him a raise." Gwaine said as he looked at the wall they had been scrubbing, "Do you suppose we can just leave it and say we were encouraging the childrens' creativity?"

"Don't you dare." Gwen said as she dropped a clean bucket of water next to them, "You will clean this or paint the wall a solid color."

"Yes, ma'am." Gwaine said as he returned to his task.

"Have they been found?" Arthur asked as he continued as well.

"No, but one of the maids said Elyan stopped in the kitchens for snacks and there's been suspicious noises near the library, Geoffery claims he's heard nothing of the sort, and that he hasn't seen them either." Gwen sighed, "We might have to call Merlin."

"We'll never get to babysit again." Arthur cried.

"I know." Gwen agreed as she sat next to Arthur, "I don't know how Merlin does it."

The three of them looked at each other and grinned, "Magic." They said together.

"What about Magic?" Lancelot asked as he and Merlin entered the courtyard.

"Um..." Arthur stood up, hiding his wet rag behind him, "We can explain."

Merlin raised an eyebrow and looked at the walls, "Hmm, looks like Morgana's Magic came back on it's own."

Merlin waved a hand and the children's mischief washed away in a golden river.

"That's not fair." Gwaine whined, "We've been scrubbing for hours."

Merlin laughed, gave Lancelot a kiss and walked off.

In short order Merlin cleaned up the kitchens, righted the laundry and collected Elyan and the children from a hidden room in the library, scolding Geoffery for harboring the fugutives, all of whom Merlin then confined to their quarters, Elyan included.

"How did you know?" Percival asked at dinner, the mischief makers seated on the floor near their responsible adult, Elyan had been assigned a knight to keep him from trouble and was pouting about it.

"Merlin put up a monitoring ward." Lancelot told him.

"What?!" Arthur yelled.

"You didn't trust us?" Gwen asked quietly.

"It wasn't you I didn't trust." Merlin said, gently and looked at his Dragonlings and their co-conspiritors, "With good reason, apparently. Since this was our first trip away, I guessed that their might be a revolt against whoever was left in charge."

"The day away was nice though." Lancelot said, "Next time we'll get Hunith to come. She raised you after all, she could probably handle it."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at his Mate.

"Are you implying I was worse than two hatchlings, a child Morgana, an impulsive knight and Leon?" Merlin asked.

"No, I'm sure you were worse." Lancelot said and dodged Merlin's swipe, "Merlin, you convinced me to commit identity fraud not even a full day after we met, not to mention every thing else you've done to keep Arthur safe and Camelot standing."

Merlin glared but sighed, "Alright, that's fair."

"Can we go back a moment? You commited identity fraud?" Gwaine asked, voice an octive higher than it usually was.

"I mean, we met in a tavern brawl, Gwaine, I'm not sure what you expected." Merlin pointed out.

"Next thing you know you'll cop to an assassination attempt on the king!" Gwaine cried.

"Well..." Merlin started.

"It wasn't an assassination attempt." Arthur snapped.

"It was just a fight in the lower town, at least their second meeting was." Gwen threw them under the wagon, "Although, Merlin did throw a puch at him during their first meeting."

"He deserved it." Merlin grumbled, "There was no need for him to be throwing knives at a servant."

"He had a shield." Arthur protested.

"Stop digging, Arthur." Gwen patted his hand soothingly.

"I've learned so much." Percival said quietly as Gwaine stared into space in shocked silence while Elyan looked at Merlin with new eyes.

Lancelot, however, looked at Merlin the same as always, besotted and willing to follow him wherever he might lead him.

--

A/n: so Merlin amd Lancelotxs vacation was cut short because their Chaotic children were left unsupervise, Theron was an angel and tucked away in a baby wrap the whole fic that's why no mention, he slept most of the time so.

[spamgyu]

Yk I just had this thought and it’s really making me want to kms cuz I don’t have a KIM MINGYU for myself and if I’m suffering you have to suffer too (I love you)

Ok so we all know how mingyu is a total extrovert and he doesn’t have any problem socialising with basically anyone, making friends everywhere he goes and even keeping in touch with them INVITING THEM TO SVT’s concert😭. He exudes TOTAL golden retriever energy.

So imagine him with someone total opposite of his personality. Someone who’s a total introvert, doesn’t like talking that much, likes to keep it to themselves, also a little socially awkward, really calm and collected. Basically someone with black cat energy.

I’m crying cuz as an socially awkward introvert myself just thinking abt how even though sometimes they would have to compromise with e/o, Mingyu would totally be fine with it and he would encourage her to go out and have fun yk help her get out of her shell and just be the sweetest bf EVER!!

If her s/o wants to stay home and cuddle, no problem he’s on his way to order pizza and already picking out her fave movie but if they are out let’s say a party he’s there with her, keeping her close to him and just being happy when he sees her just having fun and if her s/o runs outta her social energy he’s ready to say goodbye to his friends and taking her home even if it’s only been 2-3 since the party started.

Overall he would just be the sweetest bf ever!!

Every girl deserves a Kim Mingyu for herself😭

Anyways that was really long but yeah now 👹SUFFER WITH ME👹

Love yaa🥰

JDEJFJE "if im suffering u have to suffer too" yeah okay that's valid.

Wow okay wow that sent me into a spiral hello??? I no longer want Mingyu.... I NEED Mingyu bc I might just kms. Sweet bf Mingyu who knows that after a social gathering you need time to decompress and let's you sit in silence and just brainrot on your phone. He gives you space, while you sit on the couch in your own world and he just comes over with glass of water and a throw blanket. Like it's his way of saying hey I'm still here but you do ur thing

I need to be put down, sedated, taken out.

[vamp-stamp-fics]

The black phone Headcanons pt. 2

Fandom: the black phone

Word count: 1226

Tags: fluff, Headcanons, slight mentions of Finbin & Brance, some angst for Vance & Robin but not too much

The black phone hcs pt 1

A/n: here's part 2 of my tbp Headcanons

• going back to Robin liking Michael Jackson I feel like when he's doing chores he's having a whole concert in his living room, he's putting his SOUL into lip syncing/singing those lyrics. Sometimes he'll invite Finney over so they can dance around the living room to Mj lol

• Robin & Finney are childhood friends. How they met is that Robin saw finney alone on the school playground and decided to walk up to him and they stuck together since.

• Robin was the first to develop a crush on Finney while finney thought his attraction towards Robin was just extreme admiration. He talked to Gwen once about how much he admired Robins ability to not take shit from people and how much he likes hanging out with him, it finally clicked With Gwen and she explained to him that "Finney you might have a crush on him 😐" he stood there for a good 2 minute because realizeation hit him like a train of holy shit she's right

• Robin calls Finney Guey (someone said it meant dude but when I looked it up it meant smth else but progressed into being used as dude but that might be wrong so I apologize to my Spanish speaking readers in advance 💀) Finney understands little Spanish so he hopes whatever Robin's calling him isn't insulting

• Bruce is passive aggressive when insulting people while Vance is just upfront calling people cocksuckers he loves using that word

• speaking of Bruce being mean, ik alot of people characterized him as a Golden boy, the boy next door, sunshine but he can be mean as shit if he has to Don't tell me he can't be, y'all saw the way he looked when he thought finney was gonna win the game when he is he's sarcastic and somewhat of a smart ass. Vance finds it hilarious and encourages it when he gets that way

• Bruce is also extremely competitive even outside of Playing baseball. banned from playing board games with the gang cus it went to his head

• Vance is also banned from playing for the time being cus he almost broke his mother's vase out of anger which insued a scolding in front of the rest by his mom lol

• Vance is a great cook but he's like Gordon Ramsay whenever someone (besides his mom ofc) tries to help him

• Vances mom's Italian, his mom taught him how to cook when he was younger so that's why he's great in the kitchen lol

• Everyone survived/lived Au: this is a continuation of pt 1 of my Vance hcs with his mom when Vance got older (like older teens-young adult age) his mom got back in contact with him and decided to stay in his life for good

• Grab n Go used to have a vending machine but soon went out of order cus Vance kept punching it every time the food got stuck which was often, the thing was a piece of shit anyways as Vance would say

• English is Bruces second language and Japanese is his first, when he talks with his parents and sister he uses Japanese most of the time. obviously they speak English as well but when it's just the 4 of them they like to talk in their native language. Bruce sometimes likes to use it to confuse tf out of the rest of the group when talking with them. Robin thinks it's funny

• Robin will absolutely destroy the school lunch food after saying "it's not even that good" mf will eat that dry ass chicken sandwich like he's on death row and it's his last meal. Same for Vance tbh

• Robin favorite candy is Reese's absolutely devours them. Idk if Reese's pieces was a thing back in the 70s but if they were he fucks with them too. Finney also likes Reese's and M&Ms while Gwen prefers M&Ms more

• Robin's a single child but has a fuckload of cousins that visit him on holidays. He's secretly always wanted a little sibling (I mean he sees his baby cousins as his own siblings but they're not always around) so when finney introduces Robin to Gwen they immediately have a sibling relationship

• Robin's uncles has a son named Rick/Ricky. He's older than Robin (like around 17-19) Robin sees him as a older brother.

• since Rick is busy most of the time with work and school it's always a treat for Both him and Robin when he takes Robin (+ finney to ofc) to hangout

• Rick also has a girlfriend that finney might of used to have a small crush on lololol that sometimes also comes with them if she's free

• Vance uses a fucking trash bag as his backpack 💀 that or a backpack that's a thread from falling apart

• Griffin loves goldfish. He'd inhale a whole carton if he could but his mom always stops him before he can (talking about the snack not the actual fish)

• speaking of Griffin he's an absolute mamas boy. Always clings to her whenever They're in a store together

• Griffin bruises easily. He doesn't know why he just does, and what makes it worse is that he's a bit unaware of his surroundings sometimes so he's always bumping into things. His mom playfully scolds him about it while she kisses them to make them feel better

• Griffin is an extremely picky eater as a kid. Literally any fruit or vegetable he doesn't like except apples, oranges, and carrots. when he gets older tho he grows out of it a bit, still hates broccoli tho

• Griffin also is a bookworm. Loves books and likes sitting in the library during lunch sitting next to the shelves and read. He got his love for books from his mom as she is also a bookworm so they bond over that hobby

• if someone calls Vance an idiot or a dumbass it'll set him off. Vance hates when people insult his intelligence, school already makes him feel like shit as is he doesn't need some dickhead telling him he's stupid even as a "joke" like if it's his friend jokingly call him a dumbass once he'll laugh it off but if it's someone doing it to make fun of him they're catching a right hook

• Everyone survived/lived Au: when karate kid is realesed it became one of Robins all time favorite movies and had Finney watch it with him (also modern au: he absolutely loves Cobra Kai)

• when Vance died his mom found out in a newspaper after they found the bodies and broke down in her kitchen. Asking herself why was her baby taken

• and when Robin died it hurt too much for his mom to remarry or have other children as she felt it would be "replacing" her passing husband and son

Wow dropped those angst bombs out of nowhere. Sorry lol

• as much he likes to seem tough Robin absolutely hates spiders. He'll scream and violently stomps the shit out of it but if he's with the others he'll act like they're being overdramatic and kill it as if he isn't internally screaming with them. Finney knows but doesn't say anything

• Billy loves marvel and has a comic book collection. His favorite marvel character is spiderman

[about-faces]

What do you think of a Harley/Harvey romance? Or do you think they won't just fit and better left as friends or antagonists? Do you think Harvey would be a good fit as the 'token dude' among the Gotham Sirens (Harley, Ivy , Selina)?

Honestly, I don’t know what kind of dynamic Harley and Harvey should have. You’d think they’d have some common ground to build on, between their names and their taste in split fashion! But beyond that, they’re a pair of characters I can never quite figure out when it comes to them being together as anything but antagonists, which is boring to me.

(Note: when I speak about Harley, I’m taking about my own personal understanding of her, as I prefer the character. She’s been so inconsistent ever since she became the Sexy Elmo of the DCU, to the point that she’s more a vague merchandise concept than a character. For all intents and purposes of this, I’m thinking of her as Arleen Sorkin’s Harley from BTAS for the most part)

The big fundamental difference is that Harley is all about fun, while Harvey is all about pain. The guy literally wears his agony on his face, and is a big wet blanket for any irreverent antics Harley might want to commit. It's not even a Bert-and-Ernie situation where there's a wacky character and a stoic, straight-laced character, because Harvey is just TOO serious and TOO tormented to be any fun for Harley. There's little room for give-and-take between them. There's just Harley trying to be wacky while Harvey stares at her like someone who has entirely forgotten the concept of fun.

Now, that's not to say that Two-Face can't be a fun, wacky, flamboyant character for Harley to play with! But we'd have to go back to his late Golden Age characterization, where he was entirely focused on outlandish crimes based around the number two. I could possibly imagine a Harley who encourages Harvey to be that kind of Two-Face again, doing something like... oh, let's say, robbing a circus while riding on two horses at the same time. Harley might have a great time with THAT Two-Face!

Now, one might thinking about going the opposite direction. That, instead of encouraging his worst criminal instincts, there's some potential for Dr. Harleen Quinzel to actually be a healing influence on Harvey Dent. Unfortunately, I can't stop thinking about that comic where Mark Russell had Harley "cure" Harvey of needing to listen to his coin, which not only overlooks the core reasons why the coin is so important to him (Russell just kinda treated it as an obsessive quirk and no deeper), but it also shows how Harley's professional care only resulted in making for a more deadly, unpredictable Two-Face:

(Sidenote: brilliant as Russel is as a writer, you can tell he doesn't understand Two-Face because Batman doesn't refer to him as "Harvey.")

I'd love to see Harley as someone who truly empathizes with Harvey Dent, someone who actually understands his trauma from abuse and his internal divide, but it seems impossible to consider how both characters are usually written. It would require a Harley Quinn who actually does fundamentally care about helping people and a Harvey Dent who is written as both a good man and a victim.

Which is where Stjepan Šejić's Harleen was so fascinating and frustrating alike. Harvey is a major character there, and he's miswritten as a hardline dickbag who is all about being Hard On Crime, just for the sake of clashing with the tragically-empathic Dr. Quinzel.

This Harvey Dent is not sympathetic. He's a moralizing prick who straight-up advocates for a fascist police state, including releasing Arkham inmates to show Gotham in order to unleash martial law. It's a perversion of the subplot from the 1989 comic strips, where Harvey wants to resign for unwittingly almost aiding a plot to do exactly what he tries to do in Harleen. To top it off, this Two-Face is willing to re-flip his coin to get a desired result, which is just Bad Two-Face 101.

And yet, despite ALL that, Šejić makes an impressive stab at showing how his compassionate take on Harleen is two-of-a-kind with even this jerkass Harvey Dent.

Even now, I don't know what to make of this, nor do I know what it could possibly mean for either characters. But I remain intrigued by the potential implications of two tragic characters who both lost everything and became "monsters" all in the name of trying to help others. Two irreconcilable people, bound by fate and ideals and "Ha Ha."

So no, I don't know what kind of relationship these two could ever have. I'm even more doubtful there could ever be romance between them. But in other circumstances... who can say? Maybe in some AU, there's a tormented, scarred crime boss driven by revenge and punishing the Haves (Halves?) on behalf of the Have-Nots, and he surprises even himself by bonding with a whimsical, colorful, tortured, and tragically unstable mischief-maker in pigtails.

Maybe. Just maybe that'd work.

[smallraindrops-blog]

A Judas Kiss

Fandom: Trigun Stampede (2023)

Pairing: Very light Vash X Wolfwood

Word count: 1k

Summary: Wolfwood and Vash share a cigarette.

Warnings: No Beta, written in the middle of the night.

Notes: still dealing with writer's block but managed to word vomit this out. 

Enjoy! 

~

The sweeping winds left fine waves in the mountains of sand, the moon a pale light upon the barren land. The chill of the night chased away any possible sign of life, not even a single mark in endless sand.

Wolfwood fished out a smoke, shivering at the chill of a desert night.

The lighter was too bright for the kingdom of starlight and void, a bright orange light against the dark.

The taste was sharp on his tongue, the burn of it was a comfort. His weapon settled into the ground, the white cloth softened by moonlight. Idly he listened to the others get ready for bed, Meryl and Roberto bitching about something their boss had said.

Wolfwood took another long drag, his ears perked as Vash spoke up. Once Wolfwood realized that he was listening, he took another puff, finishing off the cigarette. He scoffed, mostly at himself and tossed it away.

He ignored Vash’ birdsong voice, pulling out a new pack as Vash asked polite questions about the newspaper. It was bullshit as Wolfwood cared, small minded office politics and mindless greed.

It was when he started on a new cigarette when the camp finally quieted down. He let out a sigh, watching the smoke trailed up into the riots of stars. For a moment, he let himself admire their unreachable beauty.

Wolfwood didn’t often leave the orphanage during the night, he was too busy helping the younger kids get ready with brushing their teeth and coaxing them to sleep with promises to play tomorrow.

Occasionally he would allow himself to be tricked into telling them a bedtime story, the smell of their soap and warm skin enough to smooth a deep, deep ache in him. He had lost any innocence a long time ago, but it was worth it if no one else had to pay the cost.

He sensed the weight of Vash’ stare, settling on his back like the cross, a heavy weight that bent his spine. 

“Aren’t you tired?” Vash asked, joining Wolfwood's side. He had a small, private smile. His glasses tucked into a side pocket of his bright red jacket. His everblue eyes were almost sliver in the moonlight.

Wolfwood didn’t respond, flickering the ashes away. 

Vash just smiled more, like it was funny that Wolfwood didn't say anything. He glanced toward the cigarette, his expression thoughtful.

“Do those things actually taste good?” Vash asked, head cocked. His golden hair fell forward, almost hiding his left eye. 

“What? You never had one of these before, needle noggin?” Wolfwood replied gruffly, dragging on his cigarette. The orange glowed like an animal’s warning of its venom. 

Vash shrugged, his grin lingering. There was an unnatural quality to him, washed out like an old memory but one that could still breath, one that could still be touched. Not for the first time, Wolfwood caught himself admiring the curve of full lips, the smooth line of an elvish jawline.

Wolfwood pulled the half used cigarette and held it out as an offer. Vash didn’t hesitate, his long fingers brushing against Wolfwood. He thought he might have heard a hitch in Vash’ breathing but didn’t acknowledge it, too busy with his own pounding heart.

“Don’t rush.” Wolfwood ordered, his voice gone raspy, low enough that he felt it in his chest. “This is something to be savored, inhale slowly and gently. Hold it there for a second then let it out just as slow as before.”

Vash licked his lips, eyes flicking toward Wolfwood. The contrast of Vash’s guileless expression as he held a lit cigarette touched by Wolfwood’s mouth causes something to go hot and tight in his guts.

This was stupid, a mistake in the making yet Wolfwood only nodded in encouragement.

The sight of Vash with a cigarette between his sinful lips was a sight Wolfwood will never forget. Vash obeyed his commands easily, his chest rising as he took the smoke. 

Those baby blues eyes never left Wolfwood’s, and when Vash pulled the cigarette away and exhaled out, thick smoke trailing upward to the starry skies. Wolfwood couldn’t look away, his mouth dry.

Wolfwood took a step closer, filling the space between them. And those beautiful blue eyes widened.

Then Vash coughed. He kept coughing, bending over as he wheezed.

The spell broke and Wolfwood shook his head, moving away. His trembling fingered reached for another smoke. 

Stupid. Stupid, foolish little man.

Wolfwood wasn’t sure if he was talking about himself or Vash. 

Eventually Vash straightened, his mouth pursed as he stared down at the cigarette. His nose wrinkled. Wolfwood eyed him, sure that he was going to get a very familiar lecture about the dangers of smoke, of how foul it was.

“I can see why you like it.” Vash said, his voice roughed by the smoke. It shouldn’t work for him but it did. Vash’s everblue eyes sparkled as a boyish grin formed. Wolfwood didn't move, didn’t breathe. His brand new smoke dangled loosely between his lips.

Vash returned the used cigarette between his lips, finishing it off. He didn’t cough this time, and once he was done, he tossed it away. “But I don’t think I will smoke one again.”

“Whatever.” Wolfwood snapped, hitching his shoulders as another chilly wind swept over the land. Vash clicked his tongue, and nodded toward the camp. 

“Come join me by the fire.” Vash whispered. To anyone else, it was a polite request but Wolfwood heard the iron under that gentle tone. 

Anger should have sparked in his chest, like he would get to the adults at the orphanage, mad that they were acting like they cared when all they wanted was control.

Except this was Vash, the one person Wolfwood knew didn’t care about power. Who might be the only person in the damn universe who didn’t care. Vash just wanted peace. It was a shame for Vash that Nicholas the Punisher had no soul, no compassion for anyone else.

A burning rage - a shame cold as the deepest pit of hell- came roaring alive and Nicholas twisted around, yanking his weapon out the sand. 

“Just fuck off. You can’t order me around.” Nicholas snarled, stomping off toward the camp. He didn’t look back but his mind could fill in the blank. He imagined a faint hurt on Vash’s face, a slight pout on his lips.

A moment later, Vash followed him.

When he did finally look at those everblue eyes, warmed by the light of a dying fire, all Nicholas -Wolfwood- saw was forgiveness.

[lollytea]

going back to ur castle kids au post made me think a little more abt how jealous hunter would get of gus's friendship with willow and how he might make excuses to follow gus to join the flyer derby team at school esp after hearing willow's team captain.

so instead of huntlow finding comradery with one another, they are now so completely competative with one another.

"oh captain wants us to do 30 laps? that's baby scout training. i can do 100 and not break a sweat"

"ok caleb! you want to just warm up? that's fine! the rest of us will do our laps and then get started on our drills! Have fun! :)"

just getting absolutely in each other's faces sometimes but its never vindictive or mean. i think they might be tactless sometimes but it more like just feeding into the other's intensities like two dogs on opposite sides of a street to see who can bark the loudest and longest.

it really becomes less about gus over time and more about just one-upping each other and riling one another up. i just think its really funny to think about how they obviously respect each other abilities and think about each other all the time but neither of them will ever say anything about it because hunter's too proud to admit it, and willow knows if she ever brought it up, her prev crush of the gg will come up and that can never EVER be mentioned in front of him.

like hunter's huffing and puffing that willow's so good at talking to the team constuctively and he "complains" how clearly she's so thoughtful, and wise, and strong, and really intuitive as a leader but he's the golden guard so he's clearly got more tools under his belt as a leader and he could take the time to show her some pointers ha ha ha

or willow's grumbling about how hunters always so honest about giving compliments to the team and he never fails to execute the play perfectly and he's such a good flyer, its so nice to have someone so clearly passionate about flyer derby because his cute gaptooth shows every time he smiles at the team, but she's clearly got more background in flyer derby and he's "just a bit cocky for her taste" (note: never bothered her b4 when he was just the gg)

i just really love the idea of huntlow rivalry like recognition of the self through the other (mortifying so now i'm racing you to the cafeteria to grab the last appleblood juice for gus) and mutually becoming a little obsessed with each other.

I am FUELED by the idea of Castle Kids AU huntlow rivalry. Like there are a lot of lovely reasons for Willow to strive to become the toughest strongest version of herself (to protect her friends and whatnot.) But there's something very chaotic and funny about her being partly motivated by pure spite. Gotta knock this cocky bitch off his high horse. (Griffin? Staff?? Whatever, she's gonna knock his ass off something or die trying.)

I love to think of Willow being involved in an antagonistic dynamic that doesn't make her feel small, but rather it just encourages her to hype herself up in order to prove him wrong. Because she already found him a bit snobby to begin with so has wanted to show him up for quite some time. She is mortified by the fact that she originally had a little crush on him (before she was made aware of what a chilly jerk he was.) so now she makes a point to stubbornly disagree with everything he says, just to prove to herself that there's not even an ember of that flame left. Of course she's awesome. Because the Golden Guard doesn't believe so, and he's never had a halfway decent opinion on anything in his life. Fuck that guy. Plus he's not even that cute.

Whether the two of them like it or not, in any universe, they're kinda destined to have this spark of mutual understanding very early on. (Like how they were having full out conversations with their eyes in ASIAS after knowing eachother for a day.) But it's like. On a subconscious level. They don't realize that they're enjoying this little rivalry even though they'll insist they don't care for each other and yet it never even occurs to them to try to cut the other deep with a remark that would actually hurt. They both understand feeling worthless too intimately to inflict it on anyone else. However there is no harm in getting a little competitive when the person you can't stand has this annoyingly smug look on their annoyingly pretty face that you're just itching to wipe clean.

I think when this whole feud over Gus started off, Hunter didn't even see Willow that often, not that he was going out of his way to do so. Willow wasn't in the castle very much. The Emperor's Coven doesn't exactly supply extra rooms for friends and family. (An exception was made for Gus as Perry was a single dad so Gus had nowhere else to go.) Usually Willow stays at home with Harvey. But she'll show up at the castle a few days a week to visit Gilbert when he has a free moment from his duties and she'll hang around until the evening when Harvey picks her up. Occasionally she'll stay the night.

Gilbert's room happens to be directly across from Hunter's. So when Willow does stick around, she has the misfortune of being Hunter's neighbour. (💘😡)

Usually when Gilbert is busy, Willow will hang around with Gus. Hunter gets very annoyed that he's usually unavailable to butt in between them and establish his friendship because he's carrying out Golden Guard duties.

I think Willow's crush was still kinda there when she first showed up, because she never really got the chance to interact with him, and she was way too shy to approach him herself. However it was immediately stamped out when he found her wandering the castle hallways one day.

"Oh. It's you." He had said, his expression hidden beneath that mask. Willow swore she picked up a hint of distaste in his tone but she wasn't going to dwell on that.

"It's me! Hi!" She had answered hurriedly, a little flustered that he apparently knew who she was. "I've got a name too. It's-"

"Everyone has names." Interrupted the Golden Guard, confusingly snippy. "Are you lost? Should I return you to your father?"

Some of the charm Willow had always heard in his voice drained away.

She didn't like the insinuation that she had to be shepherded around like a child.

"I'm just exploring."

"This castle is not the place for that."

That was a lie. Willow had heard all about Gus venturing around every nook and cranny of this old place. And she knew for a fact that the Golden Guard sometimes tagged along.

"But I guess your school still hasn't taught the lesson about respecting the Emperor's home."

Oh. Bitch.

"Are you..." Willow began uncertainly, gobsmacked by the audacity. "Are you seriously making fun of me for being in school?"

The Golden Guard shrugged jauntily, before polishing his gloves knuckles against his uniform. "When I was your age, I was already serving the Emperor." He declared, the words dripping with pride.

"When you were my age?!" Willow spluttered, incredulous. "You mean last year?!"

"It's a significant amount of time!"

"It really isn't."

He had gotten huffy then and strode away, his ridiculous cloak dramatically flapping as he departed.

Alright. Willow had been made insecure before but she just simply couldn't summon that emotion this time. Not with this guy. Because, frankly put, he was fucking stupid. She was fourteen, where the fuck else should she be but at school?

It became more obvious to her over time that he didn't turn up his nose at her specifically, but the whole world. He was just so much better than everyone, wasn't he? He was so obnoxious, just his presence alone made Willow livid. He wasn't like Boscha or Amity (sometimes), as he wasn't really mean about it but....Titan, she could feel self importance radiating off him.

If nobody was gonna show him up, then she supposed she would just have to do it herself. His smugness was maddening.

I like to imagine that Willow does not see Hunter's face until they're really down bad in the throes of this flyer derby antagonism. He'll ditch the uniform and the cloak during practise but the mask is always there. It's a barrier Hunter establishes between the two, to convince himself that she's nothing but a civilian. He only goes maskless around higher ups of the Emperor's Coven, the occasional scout and those close to his heart (Gus) and Willow is none of these things. She's not important to him.

She is not important to him.

And maybe the mask makes him feel more confident. Which is really useful during his interactions with Willow. It's freeing to know she can't see his expression.

Plus she's really pretty (an objective observation! Hes not blind for Titan's sake.) while he's....not. So he'd prefer to leave his appearance anonymous for now.

They also don't do first names. Obviously Willow has known Hunter's name since before she met him cuz Gus talks about him nonstop, but she never refers to him as anything but "Golden Guard." Or sometimes just "Guard" if she's flirting antagonising him.

When they first met, Willow was referred to as nothing but "You" or "Her" or occasionally "Park's daughter" when she wasn't around. It bothered her. She liked to be called something.

So, after begrudgingly allowing him to join her derby team, (he was a good flyer and she hated it.) she made one thing perfectly clear.

Willow strode up to Hunter with a rolled up jersey and shoved against his chest so forcefully he nearly topped over.

"I know you might be used to taking the lead, Guard." She said. "But this is my team. You are my player and I am your captain."

"Captain." He had tested the word on his tongue. To Viney and Skara, it may have sounded pleasantly cheerful but Willow knew better. As this was a boy without a face, she had to pay special attention to the subtle lift and fall of his voice. She believed herself somewhat fluent in reading his signals by now.

He was humoring her and thinking himself so very decent for doing so. He was baiting her and she wasn't going to tolerate it. That one word expressed a challenge.

Why don't you show me what you got then?

Willow had every intention of doing so. The Golden Guard was going to do what she told him to do. And with the Titan as her witness, by the end of the week, she'd have him asking "how high?" if she ordered him to jump.

At first, Hunter only called her Captain sparsely. Like when she had gotten all up in his face, or when he was teasing her or being so Hunterishly annoying. "Captain" had become something he used to get under her skin. It made her bristle with irritation.

He was always sending her some kind of message when he used it. But as time went on and it became a far more frequent nickname, Willow started to lose her grip on what those messages meant.

Sometimes when he said it, his voice was strangely soft. Sometimes it was loud and enthusiastic. And sometimes it was so completely neutral that it made Willow feel funny. He was not using that term to antagonise her. But rather...it seemed like "Captain" was simply the nickname he had decided suited her.

She would never tell anyone just how much she liked it. But she often wondered when he had chosen to stop using the name as ammo. Or....the shift had been so gradual...had he even realized....?

But yeah. When Hunter came strutting up to join her team, Willow anticipated that he would be difficult. She had geared herself up for somebody who would challenge her authority at every corner. And she was prepared to fight fang and nail to keep him in his place.

So she was very surprised to find that....he didn't actually do that? Sure he made a point to show off and boast about how easy Willow's team warm up exercises were. ("It's my Coven Training. But I guess you wouldn't be familiar with those kind of brutal drills, huh Captain?") But when Willow gives him orders, he follows them. And then he proceeds to blow her away by doing what he's told expertly. And he has the audacity to do a cocky little gesture at her while doing so.

He's perfect. She can't stand him.

Willow does everything within her power to outdo him. Which results in her pushing herself during practise until her bones ache and she smells awful.

Something Willow doesn't take the time to realize is that Hunter is trying just as hard, if not harder to outdo her.

It straight up isn't about Gus anymore. The issue with Gus was like the training wheels on the bicycle of their rivalry. It wouldn't have been able to get moving without them but at some point the training wheels have been removed and they haven't noticed yet because the bike is still rolling.

Like. Seriously. Are you guys really arguing over who's gonna give Gus a piggyback home for Gus's sake or is it because you both wanna show off how strong you are to the other?

Gus is aware of this and quite frankly, he doesn't give a fuck about the reason. He just wants the piggy back.

It's so funny to think about how Hunter was originally miffed that Willow was taking away all of Gus's attention. But at this stage, Hunter and Gus will be having a sleepover and Hunter will spend all their quality time ranting about his feud with Willow.

"Dude you realize that you're like....obsessed with her?" Gus interrupts.

Hunter vehemently denies this.

Meanwhile Willow has been spending the night at the castle a lot more frequently lately. Who knows why this is.

Probably not because when the three of them return home from practise, Gus splits for his room at least 20 doors down, so there's a whole hallway walk where it's just her and Hunter.

They never really spend any time alone. Why would they? Not like either of them want to. But they have no option in this case. But she supposes it's....tolerable. They're both too tired to be antagonistic so they just....talk.

On one occasion, as Willow reaches her room and her hand rests upon the handle, she swallows and says something she's never said to him.

"Goodnight, Guard."

She can't see his reaction. But he freezes where he stands, his grip on his own door handle tightening. He doesn't dare look back at her.

"Night, Captain."

A jolt of nerves strikes down both of their systems as they turn in for the night without another word.

Something is beginning to change. But they cannot put their finger on what.

All they know is that person in the room across from theirs makes them behave like a fool.

[clusterduck28]

Hunter Back On His Bullshit AU(?)

Okay, check this out, it's the Human Realm, Connecticut, Gravesfield, the Hexsquad has been hanging out here for a solid month or two, everyone is slowly but surely settling into their new routines, Hunter is deep in the process of working through his identity crisis, it's fine, it's whatever.

Amidst all the uncertainty one thing becomes clear to him: despite all the horrible horrible emotional baggage attached to it, he still really misses being Golden Guard. The sense of unquestionable authority, the confidence, the sass, the outfit, OH THE OUTFIT... He simply can't help himself. Denying that Hunter might very well still be Golden Guard's biggest fan would be an act of Self-deception and We Don't Do That Anymore, Hunter! (internally, to himself). Anyway, he's very conflicted about this, he keeps rotating the general notion of GG in his head with no particular end goal in mind, it's just sort of there fading in and out of the background as he's going about his day working at McDonalds, never bothering him too much, nor ever really going away entirely.

One day though, something clicks into place. Nobody's really sure where exactly he got the idea from, might've been one of the movies Luz has been showing the rest of the squad in order to help them catch up on human culture. Could it have been The Batman? Spiderman? Perhaps an odd episode of Darkwing Duck that was supposed to be fulfilling the role of background noise but managed to inexplicably get a strong grip Hunter's attention? Regardless of where it came from, it soon became clear that the idea of caped and costumed vigilante justice has firmly planted itself in Hunter's mind and he'll be damned if he didn't at least try to do that cool thing where the guy goes and beats up a bunch of nasty bank robbers and cape go whoosh while he's doing it and it looks really cool or something like that.

Aided by insomnia, an old sawing machine, YouTube arts and crafts tutorials and an occasional concerned chirp of encouragement from Flapjack, it takes him about 2 weeks to put together a near perfect replica of the old GG uniform, complete with the mask, the cape and even the GG seal! You know, the one that is coincidentally happens to have a near one to one resemblance to the Gravesfield town seal, which is extremely convenient for Hunter as he doesn't have to reach too far for his new superhero name - "The Gravesfield Guard"!

On his first night out TV cameras managed to catch him miraculously saving a small kitten that was being mugged in a dark alley way by an evil scientist while tied to burning train tracks with a speeding train full of bank robbers and thermonuclear bombs on its way.

Crazy situation, I know, Hunter's luck is just like that that, the important thing is that he rescued the kitten in the end, okay? At least that's the kind of thing he'll be saying to the rest of the family next morning after they are horrified to find out about his antics through the morning local TV news because of course he was trying to keep it all a secret from them too. He end up spending the rest of the day having a big ol' nap and waking up to an ✨INTERVENTION✨ and they collectively come to the conclusion that if you're gonna be back on your bullshit you should at least let ppl know beforehand, sheesh...

[fantasyinvader]

Upon thinking about it, I kinda love what Injustice 2 did with Wonder Woman and Harley Quinn. How Wonder Woman has become the villain, while Harley is a hero and can even end up as a member of the new Justice League.

Now, I'm sure there's going to be people who will take offense to this. After all, Harley was Joker's accomplice in nuking Metropolis and sending Superman down the path of tyranny. I'm not denying that, but then again neither is Harley. I'm getting ahead of myself. During Story Mode, you play as both Harley and Diana in one chapter and in each case the third fight sees the introduction of Scarecrow and his fear gas.

In Harley's case, her four fights are as follows.

Poison Ivy, Harley's ex-girlfriend. Harley has joined Batman, Ivy remains a criminal. Despite their history, it's clear that they are on two different sides now.

Scarecrow, another member of Batman's rogues gallery. He's actually been shown as being nice to Harley in past, being among those in Arkham who hate Joker for what he does to Harley. He was even shown in TAS to stop screaming at the doctors in order to pleasantly great her. But now Harley is no longer under the Joker's thrall, and they're enemies.

A fear gas-induced hallucination of the Joker. This is supposed to represent Harley's deepest fear, her going back to her old ways. Her becoming a villain again and turning her back on those who have given her a second chance.

Swamp Thing, a being that's typically neutral in super-events. After the fight, Harley talks him down and explains what's happening, parting on good terms.

Now compare this to Wonder Woman's list.

Captain Cold, a criminal who is after the ex-regime for executing his sister Golden Glider. The Regime does not give second chances, and Wonder Woman points out that Cold led his sister to a life of crime. Now, the lack of second chances is something called out in the Injustice movie and with Cold it's a bit deeper. He reforms in his ladder ending after beating Braniac, becoming partners with The Flash to stop criminals. Reformation IS possible, but the Regime disables it through it's measures.

Reverse-Flash. He's made because he's stuck in a time paradox, unable to return to his home in the future after the Regime killed one of his ancestors. This begs the question over it's meaning. That ancestor was originally supposed to live, have a child and their bloodline would continue down until Reverse-Flash. Now, multiple people have been erased from history and the implication that they weren't supposed to die.

Scarecrow. The lead-in to the fight sees Diana face her greatest fear, her own culpability. Joker might have broke Superman, but she's the one who always pushed him into more severe measures, the one who always told him he was in the right, encouraging his actions in building the Regime. Supes always said he was doing it all to prevent another tragedy like the nuking of Metropolis, but she supported him when he ordered the destruction of both Metropolis and Gotham to show people what happens when he doesn't get his way.

Compare this to Harley. Most media either depicts Harley as being an innocent psychologist twisted by the Joker, driven insane by a mad love for the Clown Prince of Crime she won't let go, or that she always had this darkness in her and the Joker got her to let it out of her own freewill. Either way, the Joker was a devil on her shoulder.

Wonder Woman was Superman's, putting her on the same level as the Joker. And part of it was her own desire for Superman. Really makes her the Hubert of the Injustice-verse, and that's what's she afraid of.

Cheetah, an ex-friend who blames Diana for being cursed. After the win, Diana opts to kill Cheetah “to free her from her suffering” despite Batman's stipulation they don't kill.

Harley saves Cheetah, pointing out Batman's orders. Wonder Woman asks Harley how much blood is on Harley's hands, to which Harley says buckets full. She doesn't deny it, or deny why she did it. She did it to make a guy like her, throwing it into Diana's face that she's doing the same thing for Superman. Wonder Woman stabs Harley, her ally, which causes Supergirl to realize that the Regime wasn't the good guys and turns on Diana (the first fight of Supergirl's chapter) to save Harley's life.

Harley knows she did bad things, but she's trying to do the right things now. Her ending sees her join the Justice League intent on making the good guy-thing stick, despite how she still gets violent urges to bash in heads, for the sake of her daughter. This is in contrast to her fellow former-Batman-Villain-turned-ally Catwoman, who returns to a life of crime in her ending despite Bruce asking her to marry him. Wonder Woman's ending? She helps restore the Regime and intends to force the Amazons to submit to her after they kicked her out following the first game. Diana, like Superman, refuses to own up to her crimes. She's just going to go right back to what she was doing before. She refuses to reform, because she still thinks she's the hero.

Harley just comments that people think Harley's the crazy one.

So, yeah. Harley was an accomplice to the deaths of (checks notes) millions, but there's a good reason why she's meant to be the good guy here... besides character shilling and Bat-Wank.

I'm going to do a bit on Batman and Superman tomorrow, with some talk linking evil Superman to Edelgard. Since Injustice Superman pretty much sums up the concept of hadou in a piece of Western Media, while typical Supes is more oudou.

[terrence-silver]

Do you have any autumn and/or Halloween headcanons for Terry Silver? Any and all ages and eras 🥰

― Terry has undoubtedly attended many a masked Jet-Set costume parties, especially in the 80's, entirely independent of Halloween and these gatherings often doubled as debauched orgies involved a lot of expensive liquor, drugs and lavish entrees passed around, yet specifically for Halloween, Terry Silver practically had an on-hand team of personal stylists coming up with elaborate, rich disguises he'd wear for every season and he'd simply be the best dressed individual for every occasion on every off-limits, elite gala. His costumes, given, were often ironic and self-aware. He once attended 'disguised' as a vampiric Judge Attorney. On one occasion, 'as a poor, hard done by version of himself'.

― Then again, speaking of ironic costumes, Terry often had the habit of dressing as his enemies. Current business rivals. People he was targeting. Wouldn't be entirely unusual for him to dress up as a conglomerate owner whose firm he ruined, someone whose reputation he singlehandedly destroyed or someone who he is in the process of putting, for the lack of a better word, on his shitlist --- regardless if this, ahem, disguise, merely included a mustache or a wig and not much else. People would think it is a bit confusing and even humorous and that Mr. Silver is a good sport and that he has a funny streak, but it is rather eerie when you think that Terry views this as wearing someone's skin as a trophy of triumph, like a hunter wears a lion's pelt.

― Hey, his own staff back in the days no doubt, as encouraged by him, would be allowed (or rather, ordered) to wear disguises at work, well, or at least on certain evenings when he'd request for it. Snake and Dennis for sure would, and this was done purely because it would personally make Mr. Silver laugh, and he would, often to no avail, try to get Margaret to lighten up and wear something too. Milos as well. Naturally, Terry would badger and badger and badger until they agreed and he was left with the giddiness of conducting work with Margaret who would be there wearing some elaborate headpiece and Milos who was persuaded to add a very tasteful, couture Dracula cape to his otherwise grim and very tidy butler's suit and answer the front door looking like that.

― Had the habit of watching gory slasher movies, let us say, from his tub, like one watches a sitcom or a comedy, smoking a cigar, sipping a ceramic cup of tea, or having some luxurious brandy. The gorier the slasher, the better. The 80's and 90's craze of horror flicks didn't bypass Terry and often, he'd have some truly disturbing stuff on the TV from his private VHS theatre collection he might have his staff pull up around autumn and sure, it wouldn't be entirely out of the norm for Mr. Silver to be negotiating his good intentions with a new business partner, charming and sweet-talking them in the smooth corporate dance, turning the volume down on the TV while someone from some obscure, import foreign film is getting hacked in two with a chainsaw.

― On a slightly lighter and more of a melancholic note, a young Terry undoubtedly grew up with an elaborate sense of seasonal family rituals typical for someone in his class. Thanksgiving dinners exuberant enough to be fitting for royalty in small. Halloween balls involving rich, important guests his parents hosted on their private estate. Golden carved forks, knives and spoons. Thematic cocktails for his father's peers involving...crystal pumpkin decorations, silver candelabras, Cuban cigars and blackjack (Terry had to get his tastes later in life from someone). His parent's staff preparing a barrage of typically fall oriented meals. Elaborate dining for Rosh Hashanah. The wealth of his family was always on full display.

― Old man Terry has no personal use for Halloween anymore except that it is a good marketing excuse to be tactically charitable, and it is something of a facade for him to come off as a local benefactor, as much as he...genuinely is in his element when he does so, feigning it and yet at the same time not really feigning a single thing about it, meaning his PR team and him go out of their way to organize some sort of fundraiser for the season that is aesthetically in-tune with the holiday. Trick and treating at the donation event he hosts, except, hey, instead of candy, it is cold hard cash? Maybe. People are oddly charmed and amused by it, and he gets to garner a quality reputation all while entertaining himself in the process as well.