#It was 3am when this idea occurred to me

[jhonnyhotbody]

What! Indeed

A crossover.

#Not an excuse to draw a man #No idea why he was even that angry #batman #Gets dunk by a pony #It was 3am when this idea occurred to me #superman #Be nicer to your friends #Or dont #Okay he was probably that angry bcs superman took the last brownie. #twilight sparkle #bruce wayne

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 4

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Summary: The truth is out. Will you see Jake again? Is Moon Knight back in business?

Pairings: Jake Lockley x reader, (Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader). Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, references to alcoholism and recovery, cursing, a little bit of voice-raising I guess, some arguing, some touching/grabbing but no one is getting hurt i promise. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

The two of you held one another in the middle of your drafty little kitchen, the shared answers between you only raising more questions.

“I think you should talk to Steven,” you suggested gently, “if you feel ready.”

Resting his forehead against yours, (Marc) rubbed your back soothingly. “Yeah. And maybe...maybe Jake too.”

It occurred to you, over the next two nights, that perhaps you were a heavy sleeper. 

Marc and Steven had a little heart-to-heart about “that bloody stupid pigeon” - Steven’s words, obviously. Steven made it to class and to his university library shifts. Marc’s two years of hard work and sobriety paid off, because he was now equipped with a wonderful support system - you, Steven, a close friend of his, and he even called his old sponsor. 

Then he attended a meeting (his idea). It was also his idea for Steven to keep his normal schedule. Marc felt guilty enough for getting Steven fired from the museum those years ago. (That, plus all the secrets.) So he changed his mind about hiding out in the flat with you. Routine was key. Routine and communication. 

You were so proud of your guys, but there were still a couple of glaring issues: Jake and the bloody stupid pigeon. 

Three nights after you first met Jake, you were determined to talk to him again. Marc had tried, Steven had tried, but Jake was used to operating completely alone. You got the feeling that this alter rarely did one damn thing he didn’t want to do. 

So you set three of the loudest, most blaring alarm sounds to go off on your phone - one at 2am, 3am and 4. You warned Marc and Steven, of course. In the event that Jake fell asleep, one of them would most likely wake up. Or Jake might not even front that night. 

But in case he did, you wanted to be awake for it. The alarm wasn’t for him anyway. It was because you had apparently slept through Jake’s entire existence, and you would never get to know him if things went on this way. You had to try.

So, tonight you made the effort to sleep in actual pajamas - black satin ones - a gift from Steven, instead of one of Marc’s comfy undershirts. The outfit wasn’t particularly revealing - you weren’t trying to seduce anyone, you just wanted to look a little more presentable than the worried, frantic mess from the first night you met Jake. 

Exhaustion overtook you easily and you did fall into a deep sleep, only to be jolted awake by your blaring 2am alarm, which scared the shit out of you. This could possibly be your worst idea ever. But you quickly realized, while trying to calm the hammering of your heart, that your fiancé was not in bed with you. 

Sitting up and pushing off the bed, you trudged to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face before checking the apartment for signs of life. Nothing. 

So you waited. 

You were alllmost back to sleep when he arrived - through the damn window, again. 

Sitting up, you flipped on the bedside lamp, just as he pulled his flat cap from his head and raked his fingers through his lustrous, chocolate waves. Sporting what you were starting to believe was his signature look - this alter carried himself with a self-assurance you had never seen from your fiancé. 

His expensive but worn leather jacket stopped at his waist, meeting well-fitting, sleek black pants. The same crisp, white shirt and dark tie, along with black, leather driving gloves completed his style. These weren’t clothes off a rack - they were tailored to fit him perfectly. He had chosen his look for a purpose...you assumed. 

“Jake?” you softly greeted, easing off the bed. 

Warm brown eyes stared at you, flashing as if momentarily caught off guard, before he pulled at the fingers of his gloves, just like he had done the first night.

“Go back to bed, cariño,” he implored, his voice rich, alluring, and much deeper than Steven’s. “It’s late, you should sleep,” he added, forcing himself to look away from the black satin draping itself over your body. 

“I don’t respond well to orders,” you nonchalantly replied, easing toward him. “I was waiting for you.”

Clenching both of his removed gloves in one hand, he stopped and turned to glare at you. “Why?”

“Why not?” you shrugged. “It’s the middle of the night. I was worried.”

He scoffed. Dropping his gloves, he peeled off his leather jacket, turning his back to you. “Well, don’t. I can take care of myself.”

“Apparently not,” you shot back, reaching down to gather his discarded hat, gloves and jacket, domestically picking up after him, as if it were completely natural to you. “Not since Marc woke up in an alley the other night, in the Moon Knight suit.”

Jake was not sure what was more infuriating at the moment: you touching his shit, or you running interference for Marc. 

“I get it - can’t let anything upset Marc,” he growled, jerking his clothing out of your arms, a little more dramatically than he intended. You didn’t even flinch. “Believe me, muñeca(o), I’ve been dealing with him my whole life.”

You rolled your eyes, bristling in Marc’s defense. “Okay, first of all, I am not your doll.” You matched his glare with your hands on your hips, “and secondly, you can fuck right off.”

“Happily,” he sarcastically agreed. “You’re the one who ambushed me.”

True. You were in rare form tonight. However...

“Oh. I didn’t realize walking around my own bedroom was considered an ambush,” you fired back. “I was worried about you, Jake!”

“You were worried about him,” he sneered, dropping the pile of clothes onto the bed. “And I get that. You two are getting married, or whatever. Just let me do my job in peace.”

“And what is your job, exactly? Being Khonshu’s slave? Almost getting yourself killed?”

Dragging a hand down his face, he groaned.

“I fucked up, okay? It’s never happened before.” Angrily jerking off his tie, he silently cursed himself for coming in the window again, without making sure you were asleep. Although part of him knew, deep down, that he was dying to see you. And now this. Now you knew what had happened to Marc, that night, in the alley. 

“Jake, I can’t control what you do,” you admitted, your voice softening. You rarely ever raised your voice, let alone argued like this with Marc or Steven. But Jake just got under your skin. The heat in your cheeks and the heaving of your chest was definitely all worry. Nothing else, not at all...right?

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” you started again, boldly reaching for the tie clenched in his strong fist, which he held tightly to. “Your choices are yours. I respect that.”

He waited for a moment. “But?” He prodded. 

“But,” you added, swallowing hard, “You could have seriously been hurt. Khonshu is not obviously not protecting you. He doesn’t care what happens to you.”

“No one cares what happens to me,” he snapped, jerking away from you, tossing his tie carelessly. “That’s how it works. I protect them. That’s my job. That’s my only job.” 

“Bullshit,” you challenged, following him closely. “I care what happens to you, Jake. I care!” Reaching out, you desperately took hold of his forearm. “I’ve been waiting three nights in a row to see you again. I set my alarm just to wake up and see you. I’m yelling at you, Jake, and I never yell, ever. You’re driving me crazy!”

“Is that right?” He lowly growled, grabbing your arm - the one connected to him - and walking you back toward the wall. If you wanted his attention, you damn sure had it now. “You’ve known me for three days and I’m driving you crazy?”

All the air rushed out of you as one grip became two. Jake grasped your shoulders and pressed your back up against the wall, bending his knees slightly to descend to your height. “I’ve been sleeping next to you for years, mi amor. So believe me when I say that I know how you feel.”

“Jake, I...” you struggled to breathe normally as his dark eyes burned into yours, the grip of his fingers unyielding, yet somehow tender. “I didn’t know,” you finally uttered. “I didn’t know you were there, all this time. We don’t even know each other.” 

“I do know you,” he confessed, his voice softening as his thick fingers loosened their grip. “I know you. Marc and Steven too. So I can protect you.”

“But who will protect you?” you whispered, placing your palms on his chest to brace yourself, the heat of his firm body seeping through his dress shirt.

His searing gaze faltered, eyes dropping, his jaw clenching in determination. “Doesn’t matter. I have to do this for them. You have no idea how many enemies Marc has. Nothing else can happen to him.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him, your voice softening. “Doesn’t being an avatar make more enemies? Marc was trying to leave all that behind.”

Shaking his head, Jake turned his face away, sighing loudly. Why was he even doing this with you? As foreign as a personal conversation felt to him, he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be looked after - to be worried about, to be touched. 

“He can’t - leave it behind. It’s not safe,” Jake finally explained, his head still turned to the side, avoiding your pleading gaze. “We’re not safe without Khonshu.”

You wanted to protest, but in all honestly, how would you know? 

“Jake,” you whispered, pushing your fingers up the definition of his chest, over the length of his neck to trace the sharp edge of his jaw. God, he was beautiful. So like the men you loved, yet completely his own, complicated person. You knew next to nothing about him. He could have his own life, his own family - someone of his own to come home to.

...but why, then, had he spent years sleeping next to you? And why were you drawn to him like this - following him, touching him, shouting...your emotions wild and unpredictable?

“Jake,” you began again, your breath faltering as his eyes met yours.

He couldn’t take it - being this close to you. “What?” he rasped, his voice softly betraying the stern pinch of his dark eyebrows. “What do you want from me?”

Releasing your shoulders, finally, he took hold of your hips, pulling you flush against his chest. “Tell me, cariño,” he whispered darkly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want -” you hardly recognized the plea in your own voice, you fingers still dancing over the angles of his handsome face. 

Jake’s eyebrows shot up inquisitively, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. You realized, then, that he seemed pleased to see you falter - to see you speechless. 

Well, fuck that. 

“I want to know you,” you finally admitted, returning the press of your fingers to his chest, your gaze dropping. “I want to know who you are, and if...if you have anyone. Someone - a family. And I want Marc and Steven to know you.”

Ah, he should have known. Releasing his grip on your hips, he pulled away, nodding as he headed toward the edge of the bed. Pushing his discarded pile of clothes aside, he sat down on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“I don’t know what you were thinking,” he finally responded, “but...this is my only home.” His eyes met yours from across the room. “You’re my only family.”

Your whole world stopped.

All at once, you were both devastated and thrilled. Jake had no one else to answer to in his life - he could be a family with you and Marc and Steven, if he was willing. Even if he didn’t want to be involved with you romantically, you wanted him to be a part of your life. But what kind of lonely existence had he led? Out at night, the avatar of a god, bringing vengeance to the vilest of men...protecting the system, but getting nothing in return? 

But the two of you couldn’t solve everything in one night. You would try, once more, to take what was in front of you, one step at a time. 

“I am,” you finally answered, crossing the room to ease down on the edge of the bed beside him. “I am your family. And this is your home. You don’t have to hide from us, Jake, or sneak in through windows.”

“I’m not...hiding,” he attempted, eyes downcast as his shoulder rubbed up against yours. “I just don’t want to take any more of their life. Of yours.”

“They’re trying to talk to you, you know. You don’t have to shut them out.”

He said your name then, and it almost felt strange to hear him say it. Different, but...good. 

He waited until you turned your head to look at him. “What I have...the way we are,” He tapped a finger to his temple, “in here...it’s not like a phone call. It doesn’t always work like that. It’s not always a sure thing.”

Shit. You violated the my-man-has-DID rules somehow. “I-I’m sorry, Jake, you’re right. It’s not my place to tell you how to...I don’t know, interact with your alters. I’m really sorry.”

Scowling, he paused, making you wonder if you really offended him. 

“Are you always this damn infuriating?” He cracked a smile, letting you know it was all right. 

“Actually, I’m usually a very calm and reasonable person,” you chuckled, leaning against his arm and giving him a little shove. “You just bring it out in me.”

Oh, he liked the idea of getting under your skin. He liked it a lot. 

“Really?” He teased. “You mean you don’t scare the shit out them in the middle of the night? Follow them around? Drive them crazy...wearing that?” He threw your words back at you. 

What a little shit. 

“No,” you steadily answered him, your gaze open and honest. “I guess I’m just here to drive you crazy.” 

@stormydaysxx laaundromat @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face​

#with you fic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #steven grant x you #marc spector x gn!reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #steven grant x gn!reader #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #moon knight #mcu #moon boys #moon knight system #oscar isaac fic

[zombee]

I feel like the luckiest Our Flag Means Death fan in the world after the season 2 finale. By a series of incredible circumstances - including a significant metatextual realization that came in at the 11th hour - it was close to perfect for me.

This essay has everything. Completely normal behavior over a television series. Steven Universe references. The David Jenkins School of Whatever is Best for the Bit. Humbling catharsis.

First: this piece does not exist with the central thesis of “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad.” I feel like thousands of words have already been written on this since Thursday, so I’m going to try to not get too in depth on that.

Second, cards on the table, because it’s relevant and I don’t want to waste your time if this is going to sour your ability to hear me out: I’m an Izzy Canyon hater. For MANY reasons, but from way before the concept of the Canyon existed, (some) Izzy fans pinged me in the same way as Snape/Kylo Ren fans did, and before May 2022 was over I went from genuinely enjoying Izzy’s character and place in the narrative to hating him because his fans made it impossible for me to enjoy him anymore.

(SOME! of his fans. Please don’t keep making me say this, although I’m not going to talk about the Canyon directly anymore after this. I know there are a ton of normal Izzy Enjoyers and even Canyonites, I am literally friends with many of them, please take this all in the good faith it’s intended and if you’re not One Of The Bad Ones then you’re fine! I very carefully don’t go anti-Izzy on main, and when I stopped enjoying his character, I stopped writing him into fics. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just want to be honest. Anyway.)

The season 2 finale made me weep over Izzy Goddamn hands.

ALL season long, I was disgruntled. All season long. I really, truly, DEEPLY appreciated what they were doing with his character and arc, I thought it was wildly on brand for the themes of community/queerness in the show, I saw the vision, I liked it!!! But. I wanted a fucking apology, yall. I needed three seconds of “sorry I called you a slur, Ed :/” and that would have been enough. But I had to let it go. It was poisoning my enjoyment of the whole season, which I loved with very little exception (not none!) and I just had to let it go. I wasn’t getting an apology. That didn’t negate what they were doing with his character.

Yall. They withheld the apology on purpose.

THIS FUCKING SHOW!!!

Let’s go back a bit. I was at the episode 6 + 7 screening, and the breakup shook me. Probably a LOT more than if I had watched it alone in bed at 3am on my laptop - five days of no sleep after NYCC, lots of emotions, seeing it on a big screen with a hundred other intense fans, etc etc - but I did see other folks reacting in parallel ways to me when the episodes aired to the regular public, so maybe I would have felt the same way. Regardless, I was mad at Stede and to a lesser extent Ed. I NEEDED AN APOLOGY FOR THAT FISH LINE. I needed it! “Whativah” autocorrects to “WHATIVAH” in my phone. I was going through it.

(When I rewatched the episode when it aired it was not nearly as bad as I remember, lol)

So now the episode 8 screeners go out and the reviews drop and I think I catch one half-glimpse of a “What a heartbreaking ending!” kind of snippet, and some of my friends who are spoiler fiends unintentionally drop little hints about similar ideas (devastating/heartbreaking/split the fandom) type shit.

And I was a fucking WRECK! about it.

I do love this whole show with my whole chest. I do!!! But I’m not rotted because this is an excellent television show, I’m rotted because two old men kiss each other! On the MOUTH!!! in an excellent television show. You get it, right? I’ve written 700,000 words across almost 100 fics and 98% of them are dedicated to those two men falling in love in different universes. 

So it just did not even occur to me the “heartbreak/devastation/fandom split” would be about anything but Gentlebeard.

Another piece of this that was fucking me up - David Jenkins and his “satisfactory” ending biz. My brain was reacting like this show was ENDING ending, even if I knew logically! that this is just season 2!!! And I wasn’t ready for that, because what if it wasn’t personally satisfying, and I’m a mess about it? Why was I so worried about not liking it? I’d liked the whole season! Even if they didn’t nail the landing I wasn’t going to stop writing fic or hanging out with my pirate community & friends. 

…is what I kept trying to tell myself, but the way anxiety disorders work is funny like that lol. What if I did stop writing fic and hanging out in pirate spaces? That would hurt much more than a show I like disappointing me. And for anyone who’s having that experience with ofmd s2, I’m so very, very sorry. It sucks and that’s where my epiphany came from on Wednesday before the finale.

Because it has happened to me before.

I flit from hyperfocus to hyperfocus, as ya do when you’re spicy, but the last thing to get its hooks in me PROPERLY like pirates was Steven Universe. And I did NOT like the way the regular season ended!!! (I actually really did like most of Future; that’s not what I mean. I mean season 5). I don’t like how they handled the Diamonds, tldr; I think the scope of their villainy got too out of hand, and I was left grieving the thing that had meant enough to me I ran a fan convention for four years based around it. 

Side note: imagine if I had channeled the hyperfocus of almost a million words of fanfiction into an American OFMD con instead. We could have made magic :( I did consult with Our Con Means Death though so I am at least a teeny tiny bit of that one!

I did not like the way Steven ended… but I do respect the story they were telling and think they told it well.

I’m still sad about it. Steven is still one of my most beloved, it will always be beautiful and great to me, but that experience did and does sully my memories. There is so, so, so, SO much more good than bad from being in that fandom, and I cherish it. And I hope, if you’re having this experience with OFMD right now, that you’ll find similar comfort.

But, like I said at the top, “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad” has been belabored already by people better at writing about it than me. I just had the incredible privilege to remember my brush with lower case T trauma and having that experience in my last REALLY big deal fandom. That’s why I had been so extra anxious about being disappointed. Because it happened to me before. It helped so much to connect those two.

So the finale happens, and it’s actually about twelve hours of me going from “eh, rushed but fun, whole season was great” to “THIS MAYBE IS THE BEST SHOW OF ALL TIME, ACTUALLY!”

BECAUSE THIS SHOW MADE ME CRY OVER IZZY FUCKING HANDS!!!!

They literally told me this was the story they were telling this season. “Men can change” “The end  of piracy” “Ed leaving Blackbeard behind (ish).”

As for me? I didn’t get an apology for the fish. Instead, I got “Sorry I was a dick.” “You weren’t a dick. Life’s a dick.”

Just… fuckity BAM. THREE FUCKING SENTENCES resolving that fight. Saying so much in so little.

In real life, should these two men have an actual conversation about this shit? Sure!!! But that’s not how OFMD tells its stories!

It works in symbolism. It works in vibes. It works in an hour’s worth of content into each half-hour episode, and for how much lamenting I have done about the pacing, I would prefer that 100x to having to stretch it out too much.

I have said since March 24, 2022 that OFMD wields anachronism as a weapon. First and foremost, it’s fucking funny, but in addition to that, it’s stating clearly: “This is a fantasy world. This is not real history. This show is about romance (and so much more than that), and the rest is just VIBES!!!”

Sometimes vibes can be historical accuracy. Sometimes vibes can be true emotional poignancy. Sometimes vibes can be Ed finding his sunken leathers in the sea, changing underwater somehow, and coming out of the ocean like the Birth of Fucking Venus, because water and rebirth and mermaids and shit is all very prominent this season. And ALSO, and this is very important! BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!

I don’t want to do much real Izzy meta here. It’s been said by others, and better than me. But it was telegraphed and it was symbolic – he was the paragon of Traditional Piracy in season 1, for goodness’ sake, and Traditional Piracy is Toxic Masculinity, and he was a part of Blackbeard and Ed had to leave Blackbeard behind (yknow, ish), and he got this ABSOLUTLEY FUCKING LOVELY! storyline about appreciating what a (queer) community can do, and god fucking shit fucking dammit… most of all, best of all (for me), was Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave at the end. Men can change. And Izzy DID!!! He did it for Ed. For love. For community. I am puzzled by “it’s fucked up to use Izzy to further Ed’s storyline” because… this was Ed’s season, in the way that season 1 was Stede’s. And Ed cannot be removed from piracy as a whole (neither can Stede!) so to have this old, set in his ways, coded-queerphobic character blossom to the point he can give this gift to Ed and to piracy… idk man. I just find it so fucking beautiful.

It is okay not to like what they did. It’s okay!!! It’s okay, and it’s okay to mourn, and while it’s not okay to do [insert vile behavior here], it’s okay to carefully examine what you think is “bad writing” vs “what you would have preferred to happen” and give good-faith, textually-based criticism on that.

But I want to remind you over and over and over again, this show works on vibes. It tells its stories leaving many, many, many gaps. There are many things I would have liked to see, and y’know what? I would have told the Izzy story differently. I would have personally done it differently. But it’s not my show! It’s not my show, and I am humbled and delighted to remember that, and to appreciate Our Flag Means Death for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Other words have been written better than I could about the 18 months between seasons 1 and 2 and what that does to us as rabid fans with expectations of how things will go. Millions and millions and millions of words have been written about OFMD, fictional and non, and that is going to color our expectations and experience. We had built it up SO MUCH in our minds and along the way I think some of us forgot (INCLUDING ME!!!) that it is first and foremost about Vibes.

The vibes of Izzy’s death are about rebirth and forgiveness and leaving traditional piracy behind. And he got to die in Ed’s arms, knowing (HAPPILY!) that he had been wrong, and giving Ed the gift of letting him know he is loved, and being a part of something. We had a funeral but we also had a wedding. The only constant is change. Men, piracy, Blackbeard; it all changes. And Izzy found peace in that.

Before my last point, I want to @ myself on things I felt versus realizing in the end it is (I will say it until I’m blue in the face) about vibes.

· I was convinced they left Buttons’ transformation ambiguous because they wanted to leave room for it not having been real. NO!!! It is real, until they decided it isn’t. Magic in the OFMD universe? Fucking why not!!! IT’S SYMBOLIC!!! IT’S IMPORTANT TO ED’S STORYLINE AND THE CENTRAL THESES OF THE SHOW!

· I was unhappy, and still am a little, about the Polycule Situation, but now that I realize Oluwande is Zheng’s Stede… I am less so. The Zheng : Auntie :: Ed : Izzy vibes, btw? Fuckin immaculate.

·        Obviously they touched on Stede/Ed’s “killing people trauma” but I’d reallyyyy like Stede to address it, and even though I think Ed’s is left on a very satisfying note, I’d like him to dip a bit more into it as well. But if they don’t, oh well! It’s not like they ignored it, they just didn’t have a Deep Dive like I Wanted Them To!

· They didn’t deal with Ed throwing Stede’s shit away. They just ignored it! Stede started to collect new trinkets, and I believe that was as much about giving the audience back the old feeling of the Revenge as it was anything important (not to say it wasn’t also important thematically!!!). Just like Ed going back to his leathers is both Extremely Important thematically and about putting Taika back in the leathers because that’s what Blackbeard should be wearing for the epic final scenes for the sake of visually keeping the show consistent. That’s Blackbeard’s uniform.

· Stede’s frilly little outfits my beloved. God I hope they give him back some of his frippery in season 3. I think they will re: cursed suit BUT his journey this season was about something else, so!

· Ed’s stupid little non-profit non-apology, oh my god. It was so funny. And there is a transition from eps 5 to 6 where Ed is back in his leathers and the crew is more comfortable around him. They didn’t have to have him do a Real Apology, it’s implied it was all settled. What was the timeline? A day? DOESN’T MATTER, BABY, VIBES!!!

· Lots more, I’m sure, but now that I’ve tried to let it all go, I’m remembering less of what I wanted and appreciating what I got!

And, last point here, I think it is also very very very important to remember that a lot of people are normal about this show. In fact, WAY more people are normal about this show than aren’t. And that is EXTREMELY! IMPORTANT!!! because otherwise it wouldn’t be profitable and we all know what would happen then. We are the core of it, to be sure. Without word of mouth that stems from our intensity, this show would not be NEARLY as successful as it is. I truly, truly believe that.

But.

Do normies need deeply emotional discussions dissecting the central relationships? No. What normies need is Ed and Stede running dramatically toward each other on the beach and kissing. And I am happy, so fucking happy, to realize that’s what I need too. I’ve got fanworks for the rest.

I love this fucking show and this fucking fandom and its fucking creators so much. Fuck.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2

[cookiebelle]

Me Fui de Vacaciones • Damian Priest x AFAB reader

Warnings • 2nd person pov (no use of y/n), reader is Afab but I did my best to be as inclusive and nondescript as possible

Smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected PIV sex, oral (m receiving), names (Gatita, baby, you get it), some extremely light kink (spanking, biting, choking, hair pulling), lil bit of Sir kink, size kink sort of, exactly two uses of the word “whore”, porn with an unnecessary amount of plot, tropes galore, idiots to lovers requires its own warning, bad Spanish translations probably.

Word Count • 6.2k words, I have no reasonable explanation for this.

A/N • This should go without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway. This is a wrestling fic, featuring wrestlers. While wrestlers are indeed real people with real lives, they are also playing characters. The people mentioned in this fic are their characters, and in no way am I depicting the individuals who portray them.

Burning logs crackled. One. Two. Three beers became five. Your feet dug into soft, cool sand as you and your closest friends talked around a fire.

It was the beginning of a well deserved mini-vacation, and the five of you weren’t intending to waste a moment of it. So when you all arrived at the little beach cottage you had rented, even at nearly midnight, you were hell bent on getting the most of your time off. So the fire was built, drinks were passed around, and laughter carried across the beach.

Most people called your friends “The Judgment Day”. You just called them family, though. You had met Damian first, in 2020, the near end of his NXT career marking your beginning. He quickly became your mentor as you navigated the tribulations of what it meant to work for the company, a true friend among those who looked at you only as competition. Later, he introduced you to Rhea. Then the faction formed, and Finn joined the circle, then Dom. Your call up to the main roster occurred shortly after, during the draft. The celebration that ensued when you learned you would be working with the rest of the crew was legendary. These, truly, were your people.

And then there you were, a year later, feet in the sand. You played a light tune on your guitar as though it were the backing score to Bálor’s story, leaving the group captivated. Well, everyone but you. You were looking up at the stars, taking it all in, wondering how you could possibly be so lucky. You decided not to tempt fate by asking the universe that very question, but it seemed fate had its own ideas for this week.

“You good?”

Rhea’s voice pulled you from your daydream and all at once, everyone was looking at you. You realized, in your deep state of thought, your random plucking at the guitar had faded to nothing.

“So good…” you grinned, slurring slightly, at which the group chuckled and carried on with their conversations. Crisis averted. At least you thought. Damian’s gaze lingered on you when you looked back down at the frets of your guitar, but you didn’t seem to notice.

It was a drunken stumble back to the house, sometime around 3AM, everyone finally exhausted enough to end the day and refresh themselves for the next. Except you. As they all said their goodnights and retired to their respective rooms, you found yourself on the couch, unable to sleep and watching reruns of the same sitcoms you had seen a hundred times.

—————

“Hey… Hey you…”

You felt something… poking you?

“Hellooooo…”

You gasped and sat up, eyes wildly searching the room until you found Rhea standing above you. It was light outside, light enough that golden rays peeked through the curtains and illuminated her face. You glanced at the clock. 7am. Hadn’t you guys just gone to bed?

“We’re going to the gym. You coming?”

“I thought we were on vacation,” You groaned and laid back down, covering your face with a throw pillow as you realized how sore your back was. Why the hell did you sleep on the couch all night?

“Suit yourself. We’ll back in a couple hours.”

You rolled over, scrunched up but content as the footsteps left the house, got in the car, and drove away. Slowly, you dozed back off into that euphoric state of half sleep.

“Hey…”

Oh fuck. Damian. Your heart picked up and suddenly you were awake once more. You thought you had heard all of them leave, and yet…

“Hey, you awake?”

You remained rigidly still save for your breathing, even as you heard him approach. For whatever reason, pretending to still be asleep was your first and only instinct. It did you little good, however.

In one sudden motion, as if you weighed nothing at all, you were scooped up into his arms. Still, you pretended to sleep. Despite your heart racing. Despite how badly you wanted to lean into the safety and warmth of his chest. Despite the fire that sparked in your core every time you got close to him.

Yeah, you were down bad. The moment he got in the ring to spar with you that first time, you were a goner, and it only got worse as years went on. You had spent holidays together, traveled to countless cities and countries, bared your soul to him over late night gin and cigarettes. You saw him for what he was. When others saw a monster of a man, a Broken Angel as he was once called, you saw someone sensitive, fierce, and loyal. Even the flaws drew you closer, but you could focus on those another time.

You kept the feelings under the hat as best you could. The only time you let it slip was to Rhea, early on in your friendship, your eyes lingering too long on Damian as he walked away from the two of you. She promised to take the secret to her grave. That didn’t stop her from teasing you in private, though, or from dropping the subtlest of hints when you were all together. Hints Damian never seemed to get, or maybe he did. Who really knows?

Back in the present, he was carrying you… somewhere, that much you could glean with your eyes closed. And then you were placed somewhere soft. Already warm and slept in, like the comfiest hug. Wait… was this his bed? You breathed deeply and realized it was, regrettably, recognizing the scent of his hair left behind on the pillow.

He covered you with a blanket, pushing away some hair that had fallen in your face. It was a surprisingly tender gesture from someone like him, especially for “just a friend”, but that was something you had gotten used to. It was one of the many facets of who he was, showing his love with touch. He was always there for you with a hug when you needed it, or a rub to your shoulders after a good match, and he seemed to mess with your hair a lot, too. You thought nothing of it. That was just.. him.

You decided, as his hand drew away from your face, that now was as good a time as any to begin to stir. You slowly blinked your eyes open and looked up as he was still standing beside you, just turning to leave.

“Mmmm hello…” you mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up… you just looked uncomfortable and I was getting up anyway so I figured…” He seemed almost nervous, immediately pulling his hands away from you.

“No, it’s fine,” you cut him off, stretching for the first time in what felt like days, “thank you..”

“Okay, well.. you sleep. I’m gonna make breakfast..” he turned back to leave and you quickly grabbed onto his hand, tugging it backward.

“Too early for breakfast. It’s your bed. Come lay down…” your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard every word.

It wasn’t as though you two hadn’t shared plenty of beds. Traveling on tour was like that. With Dom and Rhea paired off, and Finn preferring to be alone, you two often ended up in a room together, and thanks to Damian’s stature that meant sharing a single king bed. Of course, you didn’t mind. Not even as you laid awake all those nights, trying to quell that burning need you couldn’t seem to shake when you were so close yet so far from him. You wondered how he could sleep, how he couldn’t feel your nervous energy from across the bed. Maybe he could, and just paid it no mind.

This time was different, though. Charged. Like the energy you felt shooting through the fingertips that touched him was somehow a mutual exchange. Like if you pulled your hand from his right now, you would see the electricity connecting them. You couldn’t explain how or why, all you could do was tug on his hand as he tried to decline your invitation.

“There’s no way you’re not tired, come on…”

And, after a moment of your insistence, he reluctantly obliged.

There was a dip in the bed, and you hummed happily as a strong arm wrapped around you, hugging you close for a moment as he got situated. You rolled onto your side, facing away from him so you could hide your secret little smile. Strong arms wrapped around you again, to your surprise, and you shifted until you both were comfortable laying there in each other’s space.

You two always ended up like this, once you finally found yourself able to sleep. You would wake curled up against his massive frame, him holding you in a manner that could only be described as possessive. It was almost as though he was protecting you in your slumber; From what, you weren’t sure. Bad dreams? Aliens? You always played it off as though you two just enjoyed the closeness, drawn to each other in the unconscious. You’d vehemently defend to Rhea that it was strictly platonic. The butterflies in your throat disagreed.

It felt like every single cell in your body was vibrating. You thought there was no way that you could sleep, and yet you felt your eyelids droop as his warmth spread around you. Once again, you dozed, your body weightless despite being hyper aware of the fact that you were pressed up against him. His shallow, sleepy breaths puffed across the top of your head, but you would later learn he was also not sleeping.

No, he was in the same predicament as you. Pretending to sleep while his mind raced and the smell of your hair drew him further into this downward spiral. It was all innocent thoughts at first. Friendly. Looking forward to spending time with you and the others over the next few days. Then he opened his eyes, catching a glimpse of your peaceful, sleeping face and a switch flipped. Suddenly he was consumed by the thought of waking you up and taking you then and there, finally giving into the urge he felt every time he got close to you. Every time he watched you wrestle. Every time you smiled at him from across a room, or fell asleep on him during long flights, or gave his butt a pat as he walked out from Gorilla to the ramp. He valued your friendship more than that urge, though, and it’s stopped him every time he’s nearly gone through with indulging it.

Lost in your thoughts, you only barely registered the fact that he had scooted a little bit closer to you than before, hips flush with the curve of your ass. Something else pressed against you, something somewhat firm and insistent. You blushed, trying to muffle the faintest gasp at the realization of exactly what it was. He had to be sleeping… right? Would he do this if he wasn’t?

You didn’t know what to do, frozen still by the options before you. You could ignore it, pretend to keep sleeping and act as though nothing was happening. That was the safest option. You two could proceed as usual, protecting your friendship for the long run while you pined for him still. Or… you could give in and acknowledge it, say fuck it to all of the doubt and uncertainty.

Fuck it.

You moved to back yourself up further against him, making sure to slowly grind your hips and drag your ass against the clothed protrusion. You heard a low, barely audible noise from him, spurring you on as you arched your back slightly and once again pressed your ass into him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing…” he whispered under his breath, not wanting to wake you if this was all just some kind of cruel joke the universe was playing on him. His hand went from holding you across your waist to slowly tracing a line down your side, stopping at your hip and squeezing gently. You hummed again, softly, leaning into his touch.

It burned where his fingertips made contact with your skin, feeling that same electric energy as before, stealing the breath from your lungs. It was now or never, you decided, no going back from here. A calculated risk, but you were always so bad at math. Slowly, you reached back, grabbing hold of his hip and using the new leverage to really grind against him. You heard a low rumbling, like thunder in his chest, fingers digging into your hip.

“Don’t tease me…” another barely audible growl of a whisper. You chuckled softly, putting on an air of confidence in spite of your hammering heart, moving just enough in his hold to turn your head and look innocently at him. God, he loved that look. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking you over with a glint in his eye you’d never seen before, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Who’s teasing?” You offered a smile over your shoulder.

“I mean it…” he brought you closer to him, his lips finding your bare shoulder. He placed a kiss on it, then bit down softly, eliciting the tiniest gasp from you. Another kiss, another bite, another low, sleepy whine from you as your hips begged for more friction. His hand on your hip pulled you back as he rocked slowly into you. God, why did he have to make this so good? It was bad enough that you were past some kind of point of no return, but every press of his hips to your behind only made it worse, forcing tiny moans out of you. Officially helpless to the way your body was reacting to his touch, you didn’t bother resisting it any longer. Your hand on his hip reached between the two of you, teasing along the waistband of his boxers before reaching in. Your hand slid tentatively down his pelvis, running over smooth, hot skin before finally wrapping around what you were looking for.

It was damn near as intimidating as he was. Long and thick and heavy, twitching slightly in your grasp as he grew harder. You couldn’t help but utter a quiet “Fuck”. His chest rumbled as you stroked him a few times, and you couldn’t help but groan with him, the slick heat of your core only growing more overwhelming with each glide of your palm. You felt lips on your neck now, doing the same as before. A kiss, a bite, then another soothing kiss as you mewled at the sensation, your walls clenching around nothing, absolutely begging for him. You’d be lucky if you made it out of this without him marking you, but would that really be lucky? You kept on with soft, slow strokes, breathless as he continued to focus on your neck.

“Are you sure we should do this…” he breathed in your ear, your movements slowing as you processed his question. He was giving you one last out, it seemed. One last opportunity to say “you’re right, let’s stop”, though you both knew you had already gone too far to come back from this. But, with no hesitation, you nodded.

It all happened so fast after that. In half a second you were flat on your back, eyes wide as you tried to choke out something clever or witty to say, completely failing. He wasn’t touching you yet, but nonetheless you were pinned, his massive frame caging yours entirely. Your eyes cut down to discover he’d slid his boxers off, hard cock hanging between his legs. Fuck, it looked even better than it felt. Your gaze wandered back up to his confident smirk. He knew what he was working with, clearly. Smug bastard.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice…” you couldn’t help but laugh, doing everything you could to look normal, ignoring the steady beating in your ears.

“Just couldn’t help but notice you admiring something…” he chuckled, then leaned back down to kiss your neck, and suddenly your mind was mush again except for him.

You were ripped from your thoughts as you found your top being pulled off and your breasts exposed, his mouth immediately attaching to one. He was all teeth and tongue, frantic and desperate, years of tension finally breaking the dam and rushing through his veins. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, writhing and gasping as he played you so expertly, somehow finding every little sensitive spot and knowing exactly how to wring the most pathetic little sounds from your throat. Had your nipples always been this sensitive? You couldn’t remember. In fact, this all felt so new, like it was your first time all over again. His intense focus turned up to you as he switched to your other breast, the eye contact enough to ruin you both. You broke it, certain you would come in an instant if you held his dark eyes any longer.

Damian let go of your nipple with a tug of his teeth, leaning up to finally kiss your lips, both hands holding your face. White heat burst behind your eyes as his tongue immediately assumed dominance over yours. You wrapped your arms around broad shoulders, moaning shamelessly into his mouth as tongues danced and one of his hands moved to firmly hold your jaw. He only broke the kiss to speak, lips just centimeters from yours.

“Pretty little thing… me estás matando…”

Your loss for words left you grinning stupidly in response. You, killing him? While you’ve lost all sense of chill, not even bothering to pretend to be casual about this? He kissed the smile off your face, biting and tugging on your bottom lip as he pulled away, leaving your lips to chase his as you whined with need. It was strange, the fact that you needed him. You’d had plenty of partners, plenty of good sex. Sure, you wanted them, but this felt like you’d surely die if you didn’t feel him inside you soon. Like your body would simply vaporize without his touch. Maybe this was how it was going to be from now on, feeling like something was distinctly missing when he wasn’t touching you.

Your flimsy cotton shorts were the next to go, his lips finding every inch of exposed skin down your abdomen and claiming it as his own. Eager hands glided down his shoulders and back, taking in the way each muscle flexed as he moved along your body.

His energy was impossible to place, manic but calm. He knew exactly what he was doing, but still moved with an urgency as if the two of you would be caught any moment. Which… was partially true. In a moment of clarity, the rest of the crew came to mind and your heart picked up at the realization that they would be back soon, and this would be over. Or worse.. they could find you two, passionately entangled. What would they say? What would HE say? You feared he would deny it, too ashamed to admit he felt anything for you, even just lust.

Your thoughts continued to race, eyes closing as you panicked. You tried to be discreet about it, but if anyone knew your cues, it was Damian. He moved back up to you, a strong yet delicate hand wrapping around your throat as he kissed you. Well, that was one way to knock out the intrusive thoughts.

“Look at me,” he squeezed ever so slightly as your eyes focused, his tone stern yet soft, “whatever you’re thinking about. Doesn’t matter right now. Tell me what does.” Another squeeze.

“You.”

“And what else…”

“… me?”

“Good girl.”

Another kiss, another squeeze, and he was gone. Back to leaving bite marks down your body. He came down to your panties and let out a silent, somewhat shaky breath. Finally. Finally he had you right where he always wanted you. It was almost overwhelming, but he didn’t let onto that. His fingers gently traced over black cotton, finding a damp spot along the seam of your cunt.

“Oh gatita,” he kept focus along that spot, shooting sparks through your entire body with how inexplicably sensitive you were, “is this all for me?”

All you could do was whimper in response, letting your head fall back to the pillow as your hips chased his fingers, begging for more. He granted you that extra friction, mouth falling open as he watched you shamelessly grind against his hand.

And then he pulled away, leaving you whining from the loss. In a blink, your panties were tossed to the floor and finally the two of you could take in the sight of one another. It took all of the self control he had not to split you open on his cock right there, but he resisted, instead kneeling between your open legs.

You looked up at him, breathing out a barely audible “please”. You nearly took him out right there, his composure faltering as he fully looked you over.

“Perfect,” he exhaled, readjusting his position and giving his straining cock a few lazy strokes, making sure you were watching. Oh, you were watching, nearly drooling at the sight.

His hand found your pussy again, gently swirling a thumb around your clit, eyes locked with yours and hand still slowly working his cock. He wanted to see every reaction, every little microexpression, he wanted it all. He had waited this long for you, years of picturing you in this exact moment. He wanted to savor everything.

You moaned through your bitten lip as he teased, not daring to look away from him. He had you captive, it seemed, frozen in place and begging for anything he could give you. Which is why you whined so pathetically when he pulled his hand away, once again.

He sucked your essence from his thumb, savoring your sweetness. You hummed at the sight, closing your eyes, only to feel his grip on your jaw a moment later to tilt your head up toward him.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice deeper, more serious. You didn’t dare disobey him, looking up like a deer in headlights. Something about that voice… you couldn’t quite place it. He growled lowly, bringing his hand back down to your cunt. He collected some of your juices on his finger, running it up and down your slick folds before slowly, agonizingly sliding it inside.

He still gripped your chin, daring you to look away as you whimpered at the sudden fullness. You had always admired his hands, giant and strong and rough, yet gentle. You’d wondered how they would feel in this exact scenario, often finding your mind wandering as your own smaller hand worked to your release in the late nights. It was beyond what you had imagined, so much more. His finger found a slow, steady pace, filling you perfectly and yet not enough all at once. You moved your hips with his rhythm, mouth slack in euphoria, eyes still trained to his.

“So fucking good for me, look how well you’re taking it,” he praised, letting go of your jaw to let you look down at where his finger was disappearing into your tight hole. Then, as you watched, he added another finger, wrenching a moan straight from your chest as your head fell back once more. Now the pace picked up, the thrusts of his hand stronger, more precise as he curled his fingers to find that sensitive little spot. You gasped and panted pathetically as he played you so expertly, looking back down at his hand only to fall back onto the pillow, overwhelmed by the sight.

It’s unfair, how he seemed to know you without knowing you. Without much effort at all from him, you found yourself closing in on climax, your panting gradually becoming uninhibited moans of “Please. Please. Please.”

“Please what, gatita?” He cooed, slowing the pace ever so slightly as he leaned over you.

“Please. Just. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just don’t stop.”

“Oh, don’t stop?” He slowed just a bit more, grinning down at you. You could only whine in response, hips moving sloppily now, trying to encourage him to fuck you faster. Harder. He obliged… for the moment. Your walls slowly grew tighter, your moans more heady and uncontrolled. You felt the coil tighten. Tighten. Tighten…

And then he slowed again. Painfully. Your orgasm held at bay, he couldn’t have appeared more smug, knowing exactly what he was doing. You looked up at him, flushed and desperate.

“Why’d you do that?” A whine, to which his response was simply to kiss you. Again, he picked up the pace, adding another finger, making sure you felt just how much he stretched you. Oh, you felt it. Your vision went blurry at the sensation, focusing on him and only him.

It didn’t take much to bring you to that edge again, the coil tightening even more, threatening to break with every rough pump of his fingers. He was hovering over you now, leaning down and biting on your shoulder, sucking a mark into it. Apparently, he didn’t think about the consequences of that… or maybe he didn’t care. Nevertheless, he bit again, smirking into your shoulder as you arched your back and rode his fingers, dramatically chasing your high. You were so, so close, every muscle in your body tense, hands scratching down his back.

“Come on, baby. Come for me.”

It hit like a brick to the face after that, overtaking you in every way as you moaned and gasped, holding onto him for dear life. He nuzzled his face into you, kissing and sucking marks down your chest to your abdomen, every press of his lips electric.

Everything felt blurry and yet razor sharp, every muscle in your body twitching in the aftershocks. You barely registered that he had kissed back up your body, hands on either side of your head as he waited above. His lips locked with yours the moment your eyes focused, your hands immediately twisting in his hair, holding him as close to you as you could.

You felt the weeping head of his cock prod at your folds, one of his hands guiding it to rub against your clit, still sensitive from your first orgasm. You mewled with anticipation, your hips grinding down against him.

“Patience…” he breathed against your lips, your hips stilling as he slowly slid inside. Just the head. A gasp from both of you. And then another inch. Fuck. And then another. And another. Until you felt all of him and all you could do was pull him in for another consuming kiss. He started with a slow pace, almost sweet, letting you get used to his size. It quickly grew intense, rough and fast, as he let himself fall into the demands of desire. Your hands grabbed at anything on him you could as he overwhelmed you with his force.

It really was unfair, the way he was fucking you. You didn’t stand a chance against him, not finding a single opportunity to gain the upper hand, left only to meet his thrusts with reckless abandon as you moaned with each moment he filled you. You liked it, though, being at his mercy. You trusted him, strangely. You could probably get used to this.

He’s stronger than you thought possible, his grip on your thighs surely bruising you as you writhed and arched your back at a particularly delicious sensation within you. You couldn’t help but close your eyes, completely lost in the rhythm and harshness of the snap of his hips. He bared his teeth as he fucked you harder. Faster. Tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the intensity. And then his hand was over your mouth, his eyes off you for the first time since this dance began. He was scanning outside the open window, watching a car come down the street, thinking it could be the rest of the group. That didn’t mean he stopped fucking you. In fact, it only got more intense.

“That’s right. Fucking take it.” he was back to looking down at you and your wide eyes, burying himself so deep inside you, you were sure he was ruining you entirely, “that’s it, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” Except he didn’t pull his hand from your mouth, smirking as you attempted to speak anyway, your mind too gone. That is.. until he slid himself fully inside, grinding his hips against yours. You moaned out loud, sure that the neighbors have heard you by now, your walls squeezing around him and feeling the drag as he pulled his cock out entirely.

“On your knees,” a simple order, and yet your brain was static. You blinked up at him before shaking away the fog and turning yourself over, wiggling your ass in his face just a little. His growl shook you, two strong hands grabbing hold of your ass and squeezing.

“Love this ass. Always loved this ass. Estuve soñando al respecto,” he kept squeezing, spreading you and groaning at the sight. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, giving it another shake in his face. Suddenly, you felt teeth on flesh, letting out a yelp that quickly became a satisfied sigh, your head dipping down past your shoulders. Somehow, you didn’t expect his hand to come crashing down on you, the slap against your ass ringing out in the empty house. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, too immersed in the moment to acknowledge anything but the way your back arched and your chest created the most depraved noise you’d ever heard.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Another slap, you gripped at the bedsheets to keep yourself grounded, “you like being treated like a whore?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered involuntarily, nearly slapping your own hand over your mouth at the realization of what you’d said.

“What.. did you just call me?”

“Nothing…”

A ruthless slap, “Tell me.”

You sobbed at the impact, “sir.”

The growl in his chest shook you, and with little warning his cock was pressing to your folds once again, sliding in with ease and setting a brutal pace right off the bat. You dropped to your elbows and arched your back, eyes closing as your head once again dropped. Of course, he took advantage and leaned over you, one hand finding the back of your head and pressing you down into the bed, holding it there. He slapped your ass with the other, laughing when you moaned into the mattress. It left the prettiest pink handprint, he almost wished he could get a picture of it.

You couldn’t believe the way he was fucking you. Like— like a whore, just like he said. You’d think he’d be gentle with you, being your first time together, that he’d want to show you how worthy he was of your pussy. In a way, he was showing you that. He was showing you his worth by fucking you absolutely stupid, and you were loving it. So much that you weren’t far from another climax, feeling your walls tighten around him, dragging such a beautiful sound from him. His hand found your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling your head off the bed. You cried out, steadying yourself on your hands. It was overwhelming, every sensation he subjected you to, to the point that you felt completely delirious with pleasure, all sense of control lost. You fucked yourself sloppily back on his cock, his fist pulling tighter on your hair. The tears pricked your eyes again, eyes whiting out.

“Ohhh fuck, are you coming? You filthy little—” he didn’t finish, groaning as your cunt rhythmically clenched around him, his own thrusts growing more erratic. You didn’t even hear him praising you with little ‘good girls’ and whispers of how good you feel, your head clouded with the sounds of your own depravity. You rode out your orgasm for what felt like hours, nearly collapsing as your body ceased quaking.

Your brain was working in half time, barely registering that he was still fucking you slowly, trying to bring you back to reality. You tried to speak, but the words were completely incoherent.

“Need a minute,” you finally mumbled, reaching back and grabbing his hand that rested on your hip. He obliged, pulling out and laying down beside you, pulling you into his arms. Your breath caught gradually, your mental faculties growing stronger by the second despite your throbbing cunt. You sighed contentedly, leaning up and kissing him for just a moment. You had your own ideas, now, and one in particular overtook your thoughts.

You kissed him again, grabbing hold of his cock, still slick with you. Your hand stroked him softly as you shifted down the bed, timidly tapping his leg as to ask him to open them. He did so, and you climbed between them, licking your lips as his cock bobbed in anticipation. You took him hungrily into your mouth, not bothering to tease, too eager to feel him.

Now it was your turn to show how unfair you could be, expertly taking him deep into your throat, holding there until you choked. Immediately, he was gone, head falling back on the pillow until he realized he would rather watch you. Your hand assisted your bobbing head, using your tongue to lap at every vein and ridge of his perfect dick. His groans and words of encouragement and yes gatitas only fueled you, giving everything you had to taking him. You almost wanted him to cum right there, to lose all composure and fill your mouth. He had other plans, however, pulling you by the hair off his cock and admiring the fucked out look on your face.

“So fucking pretty,” he mused, pulling you up to him and kissing you. It was all a ploy, of course, and you let him guide you to straddle him, your hips hovering just above his waiting cock. He ordered you to look at him, your brain already to fuck drunk disobey, eyes fixed on him as he lined himself up with your entrance.

“Go ahead, take it all,” he couldn’t help but grin, brow furrowing in pleasure as you did just that, your own face mirroring his. It was almost too much, almost. Getting your balance, you slowly began to bounce on his lap, leaning on his shoulders for leverage. From there it was an endurance test, the pleasure of riding him only tainted by the strain it put on your knees. Still, you continued, his hands finding your hips to help bounce you on his lap, mewling when his hand crashed down on your ass.

You loved having the power. Loved watching his face twist in pleasure as you grinded your hips down onto his. … and you loved that it took little effort for him to suddenly flip you onto your back once more, placing your legs up around his shoulders as he sunk back into you. Every thrust was slow now. Powerful. So much so that each one knocked you back into the wall. It didn’t matter, you were too delirious by the way he was abusing that little spot inside you, seeing stars as you looked up at his concentrated face.

It was close, again, a climax brewing in your core that nearly overtook you the moment you felt it. Your sighs and moans became whines, hands gripped the sheets below you as he just continued with each knock of his hips to yours, folding you up as he leaned forward and somehow sunk impossibly deeper inside you. You pleaded to him, begged him, did everything you could to encourage him to keep going, please. Just another minute. ‘I’m so close’. But he didn’t even have time to stop, the wave crashing over you as the last ‘please’ left your lips and all you could hear was ringing in your ears and the sound of him grunting through each perfect squeeze of your walls around him.

And suddenly you heard something new. A breathy sort of noise intermixed with ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ as his thrusts grew less calculated. Almost sloppy. His hips jerking with every thrust until he couldn’t stall any longer.

“Come on, Papí. Come for me…” you breathed, certain you were tearing the sheets at this point while your cunt pulsed around him, still coming yourself.

Papí. That was all it took for him to fill you, painting your walls as his fingernails dug crescents into your thighs. You laid there, chest heaving as the two of you shared a blissful moment, eyes locked in the realization of what had just happened. And then, as if to dispel the little voice of worry in the back of your mind, he let your legs down gently and climbed up beside you, taking your face into his hands and kissing you. It wasn’t a particularly passionate kiss, but it was perfect for that moment. Perfect enough to ease that budding anxiety.

“We should do that again…” he whispered into your ear, breaking the tension in the air as you burst into a laugh.

“I was thinking the very same thing.”

——

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#damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian priest smut #damian priest fanfiction #punishment martinez

[littledollll]

hey sweetheart :'3 I was wondering if you were taking request. If you are would you be open to do a Lucifer x little angel reader. I just love your little fic if these and I'm always looking for more if them. I think I've read them all tho. So my idea was that maybe Lucifer and reader could have a fight I'll let you decide why. Then reader decide to go hide from Lucy and our favorite god starts panicking and all. Over all just really cute stuff 😊😊💖 Thank you for reading and have a nice day bby💕

The Gardens

Lucifer Morningstars x Little!angel!reader

A/n: man i just hope this is half decent. Got a little motivated to write about this idea when I got the request which made me very excited! I rarely let us see when R isn’t regressed which is kinda the point? But I think insights like this are really fun to write! (May 6)

A/n pt 2.: finishing this July 21 at 3am, where did I go wrong? I’m so sorry I took so damn long it’s insane bc i don’t even notice time passing. I was looking back at my old fics and noticed I’m always writing R going to sleep? I love that cuz some of my friends actually call me “sleepy” because apparently I’m always tired. (I am)

Warnings: a little arguing, Lucifer says some hurtful things, not much else. Just some sweet fluff after the hurt.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Im the judge here. I alone decide the punishments and how souls will be handled. You might be my partner but you hold no power over me or hell. These are not your decisions to make or have a say on.” It was an angry spew of words. Lucifer doesn’t like having their authority challenged and you were the one person who could do that. For the first time, your own opinions were voiced in their work, and Lucifer didn’t seem willing to listen or like it at all.

Never in your time living in hell had you and Lucifer clashed about something so much.. it hurt, not to be ironic but it hurt like hell. Lucifer had never spoken to you in such a way. Never before had they used their intimidation tactics on you.

Lucifer being unnecessarily stubborn didn’t help at all, as they refused to actually listen to your opinion or swallow their pride and compromise. Or simply speak to you like an equal. Their words almost stung. “You have no power here.” That’s what they meant. And you couldn’t bear to listen anymore or even respond after that.

After a certain point you just gave up and walked away, leaving whatever they were about to spit back, in the dust, mid-sentence, and then ending up with a confused shocked expression. No one gets to just walk away from The Devil.

The worst part was that you wanted to run to them. As if words and a voice laced with venom hadn’t just been thrown in your face. As if they’d protect you even from their own self. They’ve always been your safe space, your comfort.. but you couldn’t, not today, not after your argument.

At first they were fine with you just walking away. They admit to being stubborn and hard to talk to.. everyone needs a little space to think sometimes, right? But then hours and more hours passed and you still refused to show.. it’s like you were hiding from them. There’s nothing Lucifer hated more than the thought of that. Did they really mess up that badly? That you, the most forgiving and lovely being they’ve ever met, simply refused them?

They couldn’t possibly leave it like that. Let you believe they think regularly of you, like you aren’t the most important being in their life, like you aren’t their special angel. So settling their pride aside accompanied with a bit of anxiety, they set out to find you.

You had gone to your safe space.. hiding away physically and mentally, letting your much calmer but also a lot sadder, little self take control.

Lucifer searched high and low for you, all around the palace, going as far as to actually ask for help looking. And thankfully it occurred in their mind that there was always one place you went when you seek comfort, and that was the little hidden gardens of the palace.

And there you were. Quietly sitting by their most recently planted flowers, daisies in fact. They always claimed those flowers suited you perfectly, not just the look, but the meaning. Which included purity, innocence, new beginnings, joy and cheerfulness. All things they saw in you. All things they loved about you. But of course there’s more, so much more that they love.

“My angel..” their voice was a complete contrast to their earlier attitude. Cautious as they approached you but still with a rush to have you close. Lucifer was unsure you’d ever forgive them, but there was no way you could possibly resent them, maybe you should have, but it wasn’t in your heart to reject them, so you let them approach without scurrying away.

Lucifer got down to your level, kneeling down on the floor and holding their hands out for you, which you immediately took, being pulled into a tight hug, their wings wrapping around you, effectively hiding you from the world just because they knew you loved it so much. They pressed a kiss to your forehead before hugging you close again. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet angel…”

Not knowing how to respond, you nodded just a little as you nuzzled close to their shoulder, basking in the warmth and comfort of their hug. “I should’ve never said that.. never. And I promise you I didn’t mean a single word of it. I’m.. I’m in no way excusing myself, and my awfully hurtful words- but I’m just not used to this, angel..”

You could understand that.. there’s no being of higher power here in hell, even in the universe actually, no one but them and the very God that created and banished them. They’re not used to being challenged or disagreed with, and ever the sinner they are also quite prideful, even as an angel. “I’ve done this alone for so long.. of course there’s other lords.. and Mazikeen. But not even they step in when it comes to my decisions, and when you did- I felt questioned. Which I recognize should be much more frequent than it is, but it’s a new thing, and I responded very wrongly to it.”

Not for a moment did the soft tone leave their voice, a mere whisper as they hugged you and refused to let go. They’d apologize for eternity if you so requested it. But even in your headspace you could appreciate them taking accountability, and recognizing that it was wrong. Not just that it caused a bad reaction from you. “I’m working on it, I promise. Your opinion does matter to me, In whatever situation, your voice matters to me.”

It hurt, of course it hurt. But Lucifer is always sincere in their word, and they were willing to work together, that’s all that mattered to you. So you quite adorably mumbled out a little, ‘I forgive’, as you rest your chin on their shoulder. And Lucifer couldn’t be happier. “Thank you, my sweet angel.. but also, you can’t hide away from me like that, tiny. You had me running all over the palace looking for you like a maniac!” They said in a more playfully, less serious tone as they chuckled.

“Let’s make a deal, yeah?.. if anything of the sort ever happens again, can I trust that you’ll be in your little room? Even if we’re a little upset at each other I always want to know that you’re safe. I understand needing a moment to decompress and think, that certainly helped me a lot today. But I’d just like to know you’re safe and that we can talk when we’re ready to, how does that sound?” You giggled as their voice took a more playful tone and you nodded, moving away a little to look at them, an adorable little smile painted on your face. “Deals!!” You said, rather excited despite the topic.

Of course you were aware that it was indeed quite possible to run into more arguments and disagreements like this, and even more that you’d slip. But knowing how much they care for you and love you, how much they worry and want you to be safe was quite reassuring that no matter what problems you ran into there wasn’t a thing you couldn’t surpass with just a little talking and cuddles.

They nodded, placing a soft kiss on your temple and deciding just then to take a moment and sit outside with you, which was rare, for reasons neither you or they could quite place. “It’s a deal then..” they replied with a soft tone, and you could hear their smile as they spoke. It was surprisingly quiet, oddly peaceful being out here with you. They scolded themselves for not doing this sooner and made a mental note for next times.

Of course your regression was still a secret and hell can be a dangerous place but the gardens are safe enough, specially with Lucifer and your hound friend who always stayed near. After a few moments, your voice interrupted their train of thought. “luci likes birdies?” The question seemingly came out of nowhere which made them chuckle a bit. “I do. What’s going on in that cute little mind of yours to ask me that, sweet one?” Their tone was obviously amused.

“No birdies in hell! Want one.. like morphi!” It seems your mind was running elsewhere, curiosity of things you always wanted to question but didn’t. “You could have one.. how about a dove? Just like you are my little dove.” Lucifer smiled and placed a little kiss on the tip of your nose, making you giggle and shy away. You were quick to nod and respond with a slight tone of awe. “Dovs pretty!”

“As are you!” Lucifer was never one to make spur of the moment decisions.. well- not at least until you came along. But how could they ever say no to you? The little angel wants a hound and a dove, so let’s get them a hound and a dove. Lucifer sighed, not in an upset manner nor exhaustion. More so in content, amused with themselves for being so susceptible to you. “Well then. Looks like my little dove is getting their own..”

#gwendoline christie #lucifer sandman #little angel (lucifer x little!reader) #sandman lucifer x reader #the sandman #🕊️ anon #lucifer morningstar the sandman #the sandman lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar (the sandman) #the sandman lucifer morningstar #little angel #Little angel (Lucifer x little!angel!reader)

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

warnings: (angst/fluff) mention of blood, loss, alcohol, abuse, hints of depression.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: you had loved Sihtric since you were young, but a lot of things happened and changed since then.

word count: 4k

Note: requested by @lady-targaryens-world, I hope I did some justice to your idea and didn't go overboard too much. Also This isn't fully in line with the series timeline I think, but hey. Oh, it's nearly 3am, I can't see straight anymore so forgive me for any errors.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @bathedinheat @hb8301

'You are nothing like the boy I fell in love with.'

'What are you smiling for, little sister?' Uhtred asked.

'Nothing,' you smiled.

'I think she likes a boy,' Thyra teased.

'A boy?' Uhtred taunted, 'without our permission?'

'He's just a friend!' you said and stormed off, cheeks red.

What did they know? The boy was your friend, your best friend. He was just as old as you were and you had met him in the forest, as you were pretending to be a warrior on a hunt. You were just a little girl when you first met, but now you are getting to the age of becoming a young woman. And yes, you liked him. You liked him a lot. But no one could know because the young man, who you met as a little boy, was Sihtric. Sihtric Kjartansson. 

And everyone knew that Kjartan and Ragnar did not get along. As you both grew up, it became harder to see each other and keep it a secret from everyone else. But countless nights you had both escaped your families and you'd spent the night together in the forest, hidden away, talking about everything you could think of. There was always laughter and sometimes tears were shed too. And if one was wounded, the other would take care of it. 

It felt like an unbreakable bond until that one night.

You were woken by screams and the smell of fire. You had managed to sneak out of your camp as Kjartan and his men had set it ablaze, killing everyone, and those not dead were captured. You had managed to run into the forest, hoping you'd find Sihtric as you always felt safe with him and desperately wanted to have his arms around you now. But you never saw him that night, or any night after that. Uhtred and Brida did find you in the forest as your family was murdered, and they brought you to safety. You all mourned your family but you also mourned the loss of your best friend, who seemed to have vanished. And you mourned the fact that your brother, young Ragnar, had no idea about all this and Uhtred would have to tell him once he came back from his journey.

Uhtred and Brida took good care of you ever since and taught you how to fight. Uhtred had made you one of the best shield-maiden he had ever seen and said you were a natural. But Uhtred didn't know that Sihtric had taught you a lot of things about fighting. Sihtric had said he taught you how to protect yourself, for maybe one day he couldn't be there to protect you, and you always wondered if he knew what his father had been up to and if that was why Sihtric had never shown himself again.

-------

And so years went by, but you never forgot about Sihtric, you just came to terms with the fact that he was gone. You often wondered if he was dead, and it always made you sick to your stomach. The thought would always occur during a battle. You feared that you would look down at the man you had just brought to his knees with your axe into his chest, only to see Sihtric's duo coloured eyes look up at you, as the life would fade out of them. But it never happened. You somehow always hoped you would find him as your eyes darted over the surviving warriors after a battle. But that also never happened. 

You had looked for the company of other men as years passed by, hoping they would sweep you off your feet and make you forget all about Sihtric. But that too never happened. No one made you feel like he had done, and you always told yourself he was your best friend, but as you got older you knew he had been your soulmate. And no one could ever take his place in your heart, even if he was dead.

---------

'Sister!' Uhtred called across the town, and he gestured you over.

'What?' you hissed.

'Go to the stables and keep an eye on my new servant.'

You frowned.

'Not really a servant,' Uhtred rolled his eyes, 'we captured him and he attacked Halig.'

'What? Halig?'

'Halig is fine,' Uhtred said quickly, 'the young man didn't want to hurt Halig, he wanted to offer me his sword for his life. He has sworn loyalty to me and he can help us with our revenge on Kjartan,' he smiled.

'Kjartan?' your eyes grew wide.

You knew Uhtred and Ragnar still wanted revenge, and so did you, the plan was just never solid enough.

'I know how much you love to take care of the horses, and I need someone I trust to keep a close eye on him for a while, until he has proven his loyalty. So, go.'

You sighed and knew you wouldn't win this, so you went to the stables. Uhtred knew you were too good for this kind of task, but Uhtred knew you were good at observing people. And if the man was to try anything, you'd slit his throat in a heartbeat. 

When you reached the stables you saw the "servant" with his back turned to you as he was brushing one of the horses. You watched him for a moment, several paces away, as he was unaware of your presence. You looked him up and down and smirked at the sight of his muscular arms. You were happy that Uhtred finally took in someone who might be a pleasure to the eyes, instead of the other men in his crew. You were curious about the man's face and you took a step closer.

'So, you wish to serve Uhtred then?' You grinned as you had startled him, causing him to drop the brush and freeze, his eyes looking at his feet, his back still turned to you.

'Y-yes, my lady, I have given Lord Uhtred my word.'

'Lord Uhtred,' you giggled, 'and what is your name?'

'Sihtric, my lady,' he said, and you froze to his words.

Sihtric? Your Sihtric? The one who knew all your secrets since childhood, the one who just disappeared when you needed him the most?

'Is… is something wrong, my lady?' he asked after a while of silence, still not facing you.

You took a deep breath, 'Sihtric Kjartansson?'

The man turned around. Both your jaws dropped and eyes grew big at the sight of each other. You felt your heart skip a beat, and so did his, and you couldn't find the right words. He was incredibly handsome, he grew up just fine, and you were so happy to see him alive. But you were also still hurt about how he had just left your life. You didn't know if you wanted to hug him or punch him right between his mismatched eyes. But honestly, you could never punch Sihtric and the sight of him in front of you made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

'I,' Sihtric started, but he got interrupted as Uhtred appeared.

'Sihtric, I need you to tell me all about Dunholm, now.'

'Yes, lord.'

Uhtred smiled and nodded at you, 'Check if he cleaned the horses well enough,' and he walked away. Sihtric followed him, but not before he stopped  right in front of you, looking deeply into your eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Uhtred once again interrupted.

'Sihtric, stay away from my sister!'

'Yes, lord!'

And so he did.

--------

Weeks had passed and Sihtric had only looked at you from afar. He had promised Uhtred to not get close to you, but he also felt ashamed and guilty for what had happened to your family. Sihtric hadn't been aware of his father's plans until the day itself and he hadn't been there when it happened either, for he had tried to sabotage his fathers plans, but was caught by his brother, Sven. And Sven had beaten him unconscious and locked him up before they marched. When the men came back days later, Sihtric was beaten and tortured by his father and brother, and they proudly told Sihtric how they had set fire to your camp.

Ever since that day he assumed you were dead, a feeling he could barely live with, but simply had to all this time. He mourned you, every day, causing him to rebel against his father even more, which made Sihtric's life a living hell. But he felt he deserved all the beatings and degradings for failing to protect you. You were his best friend, his only real friend, and he had told you how Kjartan abandoned him as he was a bastard, and he always ran to you when he was younger after he had been beaten by his father. 

You were the only person who Sihtric allowed to touch him, as you mended his wounds, and he never told you, but he really only felt safe in your arms and he had felt lost ever since that brutal attack. But now he knew you were still alive and felt he just couldn't face you after everything. He felt he had abandoned you, because he never went looking for you, and he felt that his heart still jumped at the sight of you, as it had always done. He always told himself you were his best friend, but deep down he knew you were his soulmate, and he could never love anyone the way he loved you. But he felt you were distant, and he didn't blame you. He thought it was better to leave you be. You deserved happiness and he felt he was not deserving to be a part of that, he didn't deserve you. And so he'd find himself in the alehouse each evening, trying to drink away his feelings for you. And when that didn't work he'd go to a brothel, trying to find a woman for the night who could make him forget about you. Yet he always found himself looking for a woman who looked like you, but he never found her, because they weren't you. 

------

A lot had happened since Sihtric's arrival. Uhtred and Halig had been sold as slaves, and as time passed you and Sihtric only grew apart more. Sihtric had proven himself loyal to Uhtred, being part of the plan to free Uhtred and Halig, and you had to give him some respect for that. Unfortunately, Halig never returned, but Uhtred did and he came with an Irishman named Finan, who you quickly grew fond of.

------

You had been visibly upset lately, even more so than before. Uhtred and Ragnar kept asking what had happened to you, but you never spoke the whole truth. You told them that you felt anger and sadness, for there soon would be revenge on Kjartan and were nervous about Thyra. Uhtred told you a while ago that Thyra was still alive, as Sihtric had told him, and she was held captive. You had been kept in the dark about their plan to attack, as your brothers insisted, they knew you were a fierce fighter but they didn't want to involve you as they worried about the state you were in and saw it as a weakness. Which you told them also had hurt you. And that wasn't a lie, but you couldn't tell your brothers that you were also heartbroken by the fact that the man you had always loved had been within arms reach for a long time now, but he wouldn't even look into your eyes. You felt as if you were nothing to him, as if you had never been anything to him. You felt as if he purposely got drunk in front of you before slacking off to a whore, one he had apparently married at some point, which you only recently found out, causing you to spiral even more.

Sihtric made you so angry and it pained you so much that he didn't seem to understand that he didn't need to numb himself and hump his frustration out with a stranger. It broke your heart that he never considered sneaking off with you, into the woods close by, like you had done when you were young. And you thought he was just too dumb, like any other man, to understand that you wanted to be the one who would kiss his worries away and make him feel good. And when you saw Sihtric tonight, as he stumbled out of the brothel once again, you got up and followed him.

'What are you even doing?' you scoffed as you had followed him into a narrow, empty street.

'Hmm?' Sihtric hummed as he turned around.

It was dark, yet you could tell there was still a tipsy glance in his eyes, but he wasn't fully drunk anymore, at least humping a whore had probably sobered him up a little.

'What happened to you?'

'What do you mean?' he frowned.

'Really?' you scoffed again, 'you are dumber than a pig's arse. What happened to that boy I met as a child?'

'A lot of time has passed since you met that boy,' Sihtric spoke with a soft but stern voice, slightly slurring here and there.

'Yes, there has. And so, what, you just come here after all those years, back into my life without saying a word to me? Only making me watch you get drunk and hump nearly every night? Such a good friend, you are, after all that time,' you spat as you stepped closer to him.

'And that's all I am to you!' he hissed, before suddenly raising his voice, 'a friend! I'm just your friend!' You watched as Sihtric sighed and looked down to his feet. Then he chuckled and shook his head, before he stepped closer and looked back up at you, 'What do you care about how I spent my nights… and with whom?' he nearly whispered, but his face was so close to yours, that you could hear every word clearly.

'Because I care about you!' you snapped, 'because we used to share every secret with each other! Yet now I have to hear from the other men that you married some… some whore! Because she said she loved you?! After how much silver did she tell you!?'

'She loves me!' he suddenly yelled.

'Oh, Sihtric, does she really?' you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

'She does! She does love me!' Sihtric's voice broke as he yelled, 'she says she loves me! And no one else ever told me they loved me!'

You watched how Sihtric stepped away from you as his lip trembled and tears formed in his eyes, 'you don't even love me,' he spoke bitterly.

'Sihtric,' you said calmly, trying to keep your voice steady as you fought your tears, 'you are nothing like the boy I fell in love with. He would've known I always loved him. That I still love him. But I guess he really did die somewhere, just as I had feared.'

You turned from him and walked away, calmly, as tears rolled down your face. And you cried yourself to sleep that night, not knowing Sihtric did the same, after he had thrown his wedding ring somewhere into the bushes before he dragged his feet home.

-------

Several days had passed and Uhtred had informed you that tomorrow they would march to Dunholm. You insisted on going with them to which Uhtred and Ragnar eventually agreed, but made you promise you wouldn't fight. At first light the next morning everyone was ready to go and so the three day journey started. Uhtred informed you of their plan during the day, even if you wouldn't fight, you had to know what would happen. Brida and Ragnar soon separated from the group with their own troops, and you stayed with Uhtred and his men. Soon the sun would set and you all stopped to make a camp. Uhtred told you to stand guard for the night which you agreed to. As darkness had taken over you sat far from the camp, but not too far, to have a good look out. Uhtred told you he would have someone take over from you during the night, and not much later you heard someone crouch down next to you. You sighed quietly when you saw it was Sihtric, the last man you wanted to see now, and you both sat in silence for a while.

'I divorced her,' Sihtric suddenly said quietly.

'What?' you snapped your head towards him.

'You were right,' he said, but he didn't meet your eyes and then he chuckled, 'everyone was right. She didn't really love me.'

He turned his face to look at you, 'no one really loves me,' he said with a weak smile and he clenched his jaw.

'That is not true,' you whispered, and you studied his scarred face. He was still beautiful, despite whatever pain was once inflicted on him and left its mark.

'You know... I hoped to find you in the forest that night, when… when… my family,' you stammered.

'I tried to stop Kjartan,' Sihtric gently interrupted, 'but Sven fought me and locked me up. Days later I heard what they did and I assumed you were dead. I should've looked for you eventually, but I never did. And I have carried that with me ever since. I wanted to be there for you, that night. But I… I was chained to a wall.'

A few tears escaped your eyes, and Sihtric gently wiped them away before he cupped your cheeks.

'I have never stopped thinking about you, and I mourned you. But then when I suddenly saw you again,' he paused, 'I couldn't bear looking at you. I failed you, and I will never forgive myself.'

'Sihtric,' you hushed him, 'you never failed me. At least you tried to stop Kjartan and you deserted him. But I assumed you were dead too. I hoped to find you in a battle, to know you were still standing, but I never saw you. Until you arrived with my brother.'

You sighed and Sihtric gently pressed his forehead against yours, to which you closed your eyes.

'Many days I wish I had died,' he whispered, 'until I saw you again. But I don't deserve to be around you. That is why I did what I did. I hoped the ale would make me forget you, and I clung onto the first woman who'd tell me she loved me, because I knew you would never be the one to say those words to me. I only tried to distance myself from you.'

'But I do love you, Sihtric,' you suddenly said, 'I love you. I have always loved you. And I know I always will. I have also looked for love in the wrong places, but no one could make me forget you. I could never love anyone the way I love you. And when I saw you behave the way you did, it just angered and hurted me. And I distanced myself too.'

'You love me?' Sihtric asked, he looked into your eyes and you found a shimmer of hope in them.

'I love you,' you said again, and felt a smile curl onto your lips as you watched Sihtric's expression soften, but he quickly frowned again.

'But I don't deserve you,' he said weakly as he shook his head.

'Sihtric,' you placed your hands onto his nape, 'you deserve all of my love, if you want my love, that is. But I will be your only woman and no one else will interfere with our love again if you will have me. And if you love me the same.'

'I want you, I mean, I, I,' Sihtric stammered, 'I love you.' 

And he impulsively brought his lips to yours, locking you in a long, desperate kiss. And you kissed him just as desperately. You have wanted Sihtric to be yours since you were young, and now, here, he finally was yours. And you fell asleep in his arms as he continued to guard the camp the rest of the night.

You woke up just before dawn and kissed Sihtric passionately, before anyone else woke up, and you made your way back to your tent. The rest of the journey to Dunholm, Sihtric stayed close to you, but not too close to make it obvious to Uhtred, who would probably kill him for not staying away from his sister. You kept giving each other sweet and flirty smiles throughout the day, and as everyone had fallen asleep later that night, Sihtric came over to your tent and asked you to come with him. Without alerting Finan, who was now guarding the camp, Sihtric took your hand and sneaked you out with him further into the forest.

You giggled as you felt that sudden rush of excitement, sneaking away from camp with Sihtric, just like you had done when you were younger. But now you were a grown woman, and Sihtric was a grown man, yet you both giggled like youngsters. Until Sihtric pulled you close and guided you backwards until a large tree forced you to stop. You leaned back against the tree as you felt Sihtric's hands on your waist, and you brought your hands up to his shoulders. You both chuckled before he leaned in to give you a quick, soft kiss.

'My love, will you have me tonight?' he whispered, after which he kissed you again.

'Mhm,' you hummed and smiled against his lips, and you felt how Sihtric lifted you up into his arms, and after that night you knew you never wanted anyone other than Sihtric.

After you had woken up in your tent the next morning, alone, you knew today was the day to avenge your family. Sihtric had told you he would be happy to see his father die, and that you didn't have to worry about him, but you still did. 

Sihtric had protected you when all hell broke loose in Dunholm later that day, he looked more secure than you'd ever see him before, and he insisted you stayed close to him until it was safe. You hadn't left his side when suddenly the square was made for Ragnar and Kjartan, and you felt anxious for Sihtric. As the two men fought, until death, you saw how tense Sihtric became and he shouted at Ragnar to kill Kjartan. Then Kjartan was suddenly on his back, and Ragnar stood above him.

'Sihtric,' you said, grabbing his hand, 'you don't have to watch.'

'I want to watch,' he growled, and he squeezed your hand before he pulled you into his chest, 'but I don't want you to see this.'

'I am a shield-maiden, Sihtric,' you smiled, 'I can handle this.'

Sihtric looked down at you with a tired smile, but his eyes grew big and head snapped back up as Ragnar was about to give the final blow to Kjartan. You heard everyone cheer, but you never saw Kjartan getting killed. Not because you didn't want to, but because you wanted to keep an eye on Sihtric, making sure he was okay. It was still his father, despite everything.

And at first Sihtric was ecstatic, there was pure joy on his face. But when Ragnar kept stabbing into Kjartan and the crowd slowly became silent, you saw how it all dawned on Sihtric. You watched his face drop, becoming almost deprived of emotion, and you wrapped your arms around him as he flinched.

'My love,' you whispered, 'you have seen enough,' and you gently pushed him backwards out of the crowd, which he allowed you to.

And later that night, when everything around you was safe and sound again, you took care of his wounds just like you had done when you were young. But this night you knew it was the last time any harm would befall Sihtric due to his father. It was also the night Sihtric promised you he would never leave your side again, and it was the same night he asked you to marry him.

#sihtric x you #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #sihtric fic #sihtric kjartanson #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom

[trashlama]

Heeeeeyyyyy.... guess who's ADHD can't let them write for shit?~ This bitch✨~

I suuuuuucck guys I know! I did a poll and everything just so I would have to write some of these! I just couldn't help but get side tracked.... My brain is in the LMK and Spiderverse fandoms!!! Though I will say I basically got this Rise Donnie x Big Mama Assistant req almost done. Almost I say. We'll see if I post it in the next two days and not something else random instead.... I suck lol

Anyways— here's my 3am thoughts from the other night that I'm finish up tonight ironically at 3am again. Soooo bare with me these are basically a bunch of summaries/plots/not fully flushed out possible one shot ideas I might do. Probably could've re-read it a couple more times buuuuttt it's about to be 4 now so....

I hope you guys enjoy!

Sorry this is long↓ I don't own these memes. I've never claimed to do so. I just come across them on Pinterest when I'm on break at work and think they're funny so I like to share them. If I mistakenly put one on here that I shouldn't have please let me know! I like to respect people's wishes. And if you could add the creator names too that would be great so the same mistake isn't made twice. Sorry for the inconvenience that my sharing may cause. I hope you have a good day.

+++++++++++++++++++

Sooooo I was going through the Across the Spiderverse tag(specifically Miguel O'Hara) because you know he's hot. Priorities— Anyways— I kinda had an idea. Brahhzz what if I just took the whole Miguel kidnapping his dead wife/lover's alternate dimensional copy deal that everyone has been throwing around and introduced a new take on this tale?

We all know that the Spiderverse is very open to a wide selection of possibilities and versions of Spiderman and we're all aware that the same thing applies to other characters as well. Soooo who said that Y/n has to be a civilian/or a version of Spiderman for this idea to work?

My fellow peeps I introduce to you Earth 2099 Miguel O'Hara x  Villain/Alchemax worker/Morally Grey scientist Reader!

I can kinda see this playing out in a few ways.

1.)Villain reader investigating the strange phenomenon that occurred a couple months before hacking the multi verse and stirring up trouble. Miguel intervenes and takes what he wants.

For the last year since the bizarre phenomenon in downtown Brooklyn you've been stirring up more trouble than you typical due to collecting the materials needed for your "experiments" to figure out what that phenomenon really was and what the hell was Alchemax —your ex-employers— were up to with your research. With some finessing of the illegal kind you figure out what the corporation was up to. Before being fired you had discovered the existence of the multiverse however before you could investigate any further you were let go. Now that you have your research back you're able to Doc Octo this shit and break into the multiverse. If you could pull this off nothing was stopping ya' from fulfilling yer goal and maybe scoring some fame while you were at it. After some convoluted ass science mumbojumbo. You manage to Doc Octo this shit and break into the dimensional web that held the spider verse. Inside the alternate universe you immediately start messing up shit straight off the back as soon as you fly through the colorful portal. Miguel is quick to pick up on this anomaly and sends some Spiders out to handle the issue. Long story short— they fail. Forcing Miguel's hand to go and correct the anomaly himself. Only to find that it was you. Her. His dead wife/or dead lover. The only problem is that you're obviously not a good guy. Miguel being Miguel will try to rationalize it to himself as he demolishes your equipment/suit that you're not his Y/n, you're a villain, he can't keep you without risking a whole universe just for his selfish desires. However as he stood over your defeated helpless form. He decided. If one anomaly can exist and not destroy existence why can't another? There were ways around this. There had to be. Holding you in his grasp again the hero wasn't sure if he could let you go once again....

2.) You're an inventor/scientist that works at Alchemax/or your another rogue scientist . Either way you're looking to get into the Spider verse. Since the phenomenon from a couple months ago you've been intrigued by the strange occurrence. The news labeled it a "strange weather occurrence" however you knew that wasn't the case. If you're working at Alchemax you've known about the phenomenon since the beginning. If you're an inventor/scientist (with some grey morals) you found out after some research and trespassing. Either way your tinkering pays off thanks to the help of some stolen tech from Alchemax and an interesting glitch from the hacked tech. You eventually have yourself a fully operational universe hopping watch. And where do you end up? Right in the middle of Earth 2099. Miguel is immediately alerted of your presence. An obvious stranger to this Jetson world you find yourself quickly apprehended by a small group of spiders/or Miguel. Either way the red & blue leotard nosferatu as soon as he catches sight of you the dude is all over you. Miguel may be a man who would like to believe he is in control of himself and his rash decisions buuuuttt that's gonna be a nah. Never had the Spiderman ever expected to speak to an alternate version of his dead wife. Especially in person. Every time he's stolen a glance it was from a distance or behind one of his various monitors. He couldn't risk ruining another verse. However somehow regardless of his attempts to keep his desires at bay you've still managed to break past that last thing that was keeping you from him. Now that you're here the thirty year old wasn't sure if he could let you leave him again...

3.) What if instead of breaking into the multi verse. Alchemax employee/Morally Grey scientist Reader! is lured into the multiverse? In your home verse the Miguel who you had married was dead. Struggling with piling debt and depression you choose to bury your problems under research into the weird phenomenon that occurred in downtown Brooklyn a few months before. During this time of trial and error you figure out how to access the multiverse thanks to some misplaced Alchemax files and risky choices. The documents aid in building the device that would aid in your plan to find your ex-husband's alternate universe copy. All the while you were walking right into Miguel's clutches. Cause like you Miguel was having an equally hard time getting over his family's death. Although they are gone the widowed father couldn't help but, search for his loved ones amongst the various worlds that rest at his finger tips. He needed them. He needed you....and you needed him. Although you guys weren't from the same earth you both can replace the pain that was birthed from this tragedy and regain something more. Just be a family.... Hopefully you want to play his game because Miguel couldn't watch from the sidelines any longer.

Alrighty guys that's all for now! Sorry if they're a little all over the place. Regardless I hope you guys liked them and I hope you guys have a good week!

#im a simp #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse yandere #yandere spiderman #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #dead doves do not eat #lol i suck #rough idea #rough draft #incomplete #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #yanderecore #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #yandere miguel ohara #yandere spiderman x reader #yandere marvel

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi! i've been reading through your blog and saving n rbing posts as i go i'm someone who creates creature characters rather than human and am very voice oriented with my process. i wanna use more black voice claims for my characters so my things aren't dominated by solely white voices but in a way that doesn't come off as eyebrow raising or as tokenism since i'm a white usamerican apologies if these two questions are vaguely worded/too open to properly but there's two things i'd find useful to keep in mind (also it's close to 3am as i'm writing this) 1. are there any things to avoid when deciding on black voices for critter characters? like a certain species or something? this one's probably a bit general to answer but any definitive Do Not Do This would help a lot haha 2. would it be realistic and/or respectful for characters to use aave? the settings i write are urban fantasy w/ no humans but you do have dragons running around with laptops. from my uneducated pov it'd feel lacking to have every character speak with the same kinda phrases that white people usually use, but i don't know if having one character use aave and another not would feel alright any guidance would help a lot :) i want my things to not have the 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 problem that exists everywhere

This is a new one, so thank you for introducing me to a new concept to think about!

I mean, ME personally, I'm always wary at the idea of Black people voicing some sort of monkey or gorilla, especially if a nonblack person wrote the script lmao. It's not inherently racist, but like... It always makes me raise a brow 🤷🏾‍♀️ but that's just me! I'm sure it can be done if the writing is respectful and thoughtful (like if you told me Kerchak from Tarzan I'd be like okay bc that was a hell of a role, but the Standard is High). I'd like to allow others to offer their thoughts!

Well that's definitely an interesting thought. I think this is an issue of coding. Do you have a specific species that you want to be the "African Americans" of your story? Because it would be odd if one animal guy just randomly started speaking AAVE- and especially in that awkward "what's up my homies" way that Black people cringe at. Like, idk if you've ever heard of that One Miles Morales What If Thor comic? Yeah that's how you DON'T do it. Does this character have a community that he speaks AAVE with? is he That Comfortable with the people he's around to not have to code switch? Is it natural? Or is it really just this one dude lmao and no one else in the world does it.

I think, if you're really determined to do so, a good idea would be watching movies with Black people who speak AAVE and get used to hearing it spoken naturally. Be okay with getting uncomfortable about it lmao. Like, I remember when I first started watching The Untamed and I didn't understand one LICK of mandarin. And while I still am nowhere near understanding, after watching it and other shows in other languages, after a while you start to pick up on certain grammar rules (and how the phrases are spoken in a different order than the English subtitles), how certain responses occur, etc. Again I'm not saying I'm fluent or you have to be fluent or anything, but you have to surround yourself with the language to really understand it. And if you're not comfortable, don't shoehorn it. We'll notice. Black people speak the Queen's English too lmao. We have to. So it's fine if they just speak Standard American English.

Hope this helps!

#creatingblackcharacters

[indigodreames]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

respond to the prompts out of character!

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? a few of my kids i've had for years since i first starting making ocs, like lex, avery, kelly & a few othrers. but i just create ocs based on whatever inspires me or ideas that come to mind and research that i do or sometimes even just fcs that inspire me to want to make a new oc

is there anything you don’t like to write? not really, but i'll admit as much as i love action and romance, i don't write those very well lol. but i guess also smut, just a personal preference more than anything.

is there anything you really enjoy writing? haven't really done much of it lately, but i loveee writing angst a lot!

how do you come up with headcanons?  usually when the 3am insomnia hits is when i get the best headcanons tbh i both love and hate it lol

do you write in silence or do you play music? definitely music. i can write in silence sometimes, but music helps set the vibe the most when i write.

do you plan your replies or wing them? depends if something is plotted out with a partner or not, so i guess both? most of the times it's kinda just basic plotting and then if things need to be plotted out further down the line. but not always.

do you enjoy shipping? i lovee shipping! i'm always open to shipping for my muses and if chemistry naturally occurs without plotting, that's cool, but for a more solid romantic ship between muses i definitely prefer to plot somewhat

what’s your alias/name?  jem

age?  just turned 31 last month!

birthday?  feb 25th

favorite color?  emerald & lime green and baby blue (but really most shades of greens & blues )

favorite song?  oh god, way too many. but let's just say most, if not all of monsters and men & btob or skz songs.

last movie you watched?  the mean girls musical movie, much better than i thought it would be tbh

last show you watched?  school spirits, but currently rewatching b99 & watching queen of tears & doctor slump

last song you listened to?  eric nam's house on a hill

favorite food?  spaghetti, lumpia, palabok, steak, probably others but i could literally eat any of these all the time and never get tired of it

favorite season?  fall/winter. i just love the colder months, i don't like hot weather, and i just love getting to wear warmer/winter clothes too

do you have a tumblr best friend? @fatescattered bc sofia's the loml :') <3

TAKEN FROM : @luckhissoul :') TAGGING : @fatescattered/ @dandeliicns / @maimeelai / @shchvnts / @@lattehearted / @puremorte / @svnandmccn && anyone else who wants to do it tbh !!

#。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ i'm holding my heart and it's overgrown ⊱ ◜ooc◞ #。‧ * ‧: ✧ ┊ wake queue up i'm fever dreaming ⊱ ◜q◞

[finelyageddragons]

Currently in love with the relationship between the Grey Wardens and being doomed by the narrative, especially with how the HOF subverts that relationship so here's a 3am rant about it. Enjoy! The wardens are ghosts. They are born by letting go of everything you had before and drinking poison to bind your fate to the darkspawn and promise that your life and perhaps more importantly, your death belongs to them. The whole joining is a terrifying experience, you're drinking the blood of monsters and seeing a corrupt god in your mind and waking up to see those who died around you and being told you'll meet the same fate soon enough you've just been given more time to get there because to sacrifice, to die is a warden's purpose. Even if you survive becoming a warden, your best case scenario is sacrificing yourself to end the blight but it's far more likely you'll die fighting darkspawn or even more likely lose your mind and have to go to the deep roads to be lost and have your death be your last act of defiance in the face of this overwhelming wave of evil waiting to rise again. The best thing that can happen to a warden is to die in a meaningful way because you gave away your life the moment you drank that blood. All you are now is a soldier waiting to die in war and hopefully take the enemy down with you. It is tragic and haunting and noble and so full of grief. Grief for the live you gave behind and for the one you'll never have. Every warden spends every day of their life hoping not for a future or any life for themselves but simply to make their death mean something which is an incredibly interesting mental state and I could go on about how that effects individuals and messes with their values so that corruption is rife but what started this whole thing is Fereldan.

A wonderful post by @sapphim (which I don't know how to cite but I wanna give credit so if there's a way please tell me) discussed how beneficial it was for the wardens that the fifth blight occured in Fereldan and how much they lost by it being solved so soon. To put it simply, they wanted to sacrifice Fereldan as a lost cause and use it as an example of why they wardens shouldn't be neglected. They wanted it to be known of how much of a sacrifice they make an how important their duty by letting the country of Fereldan be an example of what happens when no one is there to do it and that the narrative has doomed everyone, that the world's crimes will be paid for unless someone is willing to be selfless and bear the burden to give the world another chance. Andraste would have been a great warden I'm sure. In the eyes of the warden, Fereldan is tainted just like their blood, it is promised to the darkspawn just like they are, willingly or not it bears the duty that all wardens do and must make the sacrifice they do too. For the greater good. To stop the darkspawn. It's better you having a death that matters than a life that lasts. This is the psychology of the wardens and they are applying those same beliefs to all of Fereldan. Why must they be the only ones doomed by the narrative? There is no surviving this story and there is saving the world there is only killing the darkspawn before it kills you. Thedas is at war with the archdemons and until they're all dead, there is no peace, there is only preparing for the next battle. There is no building a life, no building a country, there is nothing to protect because it is all doomed.

The way duty and sacrifice and the promise of the Grey Wardens must alter their values and perspective on life is fascinating and there is so much to explore here but what's important for this post is that the foundation of their entire order is that they are already dead.

This then brings us to the HOF and cheating death. Duncan is like the grim reaper in Origins the way he comes and snatches your soul at the end of each origin which I honestly love and it ties in so well to the idea that wardens are ghosts given you die in every other version of the story without him but that's the story of all wardens. They all die a symbolic death at the joining so that's okay but then Ostogar happens. Flemeth happens. You should have died. Fereldan should have been lost. Remember, the duty of the wardens is dying not surviving but you did survive, snatched away by a god. Every other warden has died thinking their paying the price for an absent god yet this goddess not only favours you, she changed fate for you. Every other warden throughout history has paid the price but not you. Not Fereldan. You get to cheat the fate while it dooms everyone else. Can you imagine how that must have felt for the other wardens? How much they must hate the hero for stealing the martyr Fereldan was set to be and making all their losses naught but a tragedy when it could have been so much more? Not only did you escape your own death but you stole the value of theirs. You survived which goes against everything the wardens are made for.

Going even further than that, you have the dark ritual where you can actively choose to cheat death again. When every other warden has had to give their life, had to sacrifice and lose and grieve and poison their humanity as they did their bodies, you get to escape it all. Wardens have struggled for decades to have a foothold in Fereldan but you'll go so far as to choose their ruler for them without any consultation. You have been a warden less than a year, ended a battle that they prepared for over hundreds of years and sacrificed more hundreds of years fighting in the past and not only have you defied everything they defined themselves by, you have made them look like fools and decided their fate for them. You have stolen the meaning of the death of every warden, you have stolen their martyrs and the justifications for their actions and by keeping your own life and humanity, by resisting their poison you have made them all look like monsters.

The hero was doomed by the narrative as all wardens are but they rewrote fate, they stole their life back so many times and by surviving, they created a whole new narrative that ruined everything the wardens were built upon. The wardens were made to be ghosts, not heroes. They're meant to die and be remembered nobly so they can be redeemed for they had to do to get there but not you hero. You get to shame us all, don't you?

#I have work in like 5 hours but it is my duty to share my madness with you all #UGH I need to make more warden OCs #I can't fix him but I can become equally corrupt by his side #There are so many ideas in here I can't wait to elaborate on over the next few days/weeks/lifetime #Anyway good night y'all #Also hi Saph it was me thank you for encouraging this #Got a good grade in anon something both normal to want and possible to achieve #GOODNIGHT #dragon age origins #dragon age #ramblings #grey wardens #doomed by the narrative #idk how to tag things but I hope people see this I want to hear ideas #Rubbing my hands together and giggling like a goblin thinking of all the potential warden content #I'M GOING TO BED NOW BYE BYE

[angelthefirst1]

Penguin symbolism and fish symbolism, unlocked.

Last night, something occurred to me. I can't believe I didn't see it on the first watch.

Typically, at 3am, it hit me.

King penguins mate for life...and we were just shown how Daryl finds out his mate for life, Beth, is alive!

The soft toy seen in the photograph on the boat that Daryl comes across is of a king penguin, specifically.

To start, I thought it was an Emporer penguin, but after looking into the differences (they look very similar) but King penguins are smaller and have yellow beaks and more colour under their necks.

While Emporer penguins have more orange/yellow colouring and not much colour under the necks.

Daryl will first see a photograph of his life mate, Beth!

What does he do next? He gets a hot flame going on, which he cooks and eats a whole fish.

Why is this significant?

It shows the very moment that Daryl Dixon goes from Atheist to believer in God!

The fish represents belief in God, becoming a believer.

After seeing the photograph of his mate for life, he also gets given some idea of where to start looking for her. The voice on the tape recoder gives him a starting point on her location and where she was heading.

Again, after this, he comes to Faith.

Now he's on a journey to find her, which he does...

😂😂😏🐧🐧🐧

It's also why Emily has been posting poleroids, heaps of them recently to promote her new album.

Notice she is very deliberately wearing a lot of black and white like a penguin.

It is interesting to note that penguins are flightless birds. In the past, Beth has been connected to birds of flight, like the blue bird. Meaning she will leave and fly away. But now they are connecting her with a flightless bird, meaning when she's back, she's not going anywhere.

@frangipanilove just did an incredible post here about deeper symbolism on the birth of Venus and how a vessel = rebirth, birth, or womb. Well worth reading it!

It's significant because Beth will be re-born (come to life again), and Daryl is born again!

But there's more to the V or womb symbolism in regards to Daryl and Beth becoming parents to a child that will bring a cure. I'll do a separate post for this at some point.

Emily's new album cover for air-conditioning is actually the birth of Venus symbolism. She literally put it right in our face!

@frangipanilove I see your 'this is the same picture' and I raise you...

This is literally the same picture 👇 ☺️🙂

😍😍😍

#team delusional #team defiance #team beth lives #bethyl #beth greene #beth is alive #beth is coming #beth greene lives

[bravevolunteer]

GET  TO  KNOW  THE  MUN.

WHAT  MADE  YOU  PICK  UP  THE  MUSE  YOU  HAVE  ?   well you see i liked fnaf and its lore a normal amount until one night after security breach boosted the fandom i thought a little bit Too Hard while staring at the ceiling and decided to add michael afton the next day-

IS  THERE  ANYTHING  YOU  DON'T  LIKE  TO  WRITE  ?  aside from the obvious? in spite of writing a marvel character for years straight i also suck at constant action with nothing else going on (aside from figuring out how to phrase it i really struggle knowing how far to go in those kinds of replies without overstepping what the other muse would do if that makes sense), which is great because for as much as michael gets into fights he is Just A Guy. and uh... for michael specifically, given the ambiguity of fnaf, there are some ideas that i'm not on board with because they don't align with how i see the story you know?

IS  THERE  ANYTHING  YOU  REALLY  ENJOY  WRITING  ?   angst and hurt/comfort sorry i am a predictable bitch i'll eat it up every single time. the softness hits harder when it comes with or after excruciating pain

HOW  DO  YOU  COME  UP  WITH  YOUR  HEADCANONS  ?  possession yeah. i can't force them they just occur to me in sudden visions. who said that.

DO  YOU  WRITE  IN  SILENCE  OR  LISTEN  TO  MUSIC  ?   music always i CANNOT write in silence, i barely Exist in silence. usually i'll use a character playlist (stupid amount of michael ones), however if it's overstimulating and makes writing more difficult i'll loop specific songs that set the mood but i can tune out for the most part

DO  YOU  PLAN  YOUR  REPLIES  OR  WING  THEM  ?   somewhere in between? i definitely like to plot things out, ESPECIALLY with michael, however i prefer plotting that leans closer towards discussing overall dynamics or the general vibe/direction of a thread. i will not hesitate to go super in depth there. while i rotate them in my head constantly before i write the reply, i tend not to go too far discussing a Hyper Specific prompt though because then i'll avoid writing it (both because i've already discussed it so much and i end up hyping it up to the point where i've set impossible standards)

DO  YOU  ENJOY  SHIPPING  ?   yes :) all kinds :)

WHAT'S  YOUR  ALIAS/NAME  ?   ash which is just. my name. real nickname. it's not that interesting of a story DKFHFJDS however if i were to start going by an alias online my favorite option has always been atlas

AGE  ?   21

BIRTHDAY  ?  october 17

FAVORITE  COLOR  ?   always changes because something's wrong with me. been a sage green enjoyer lately like the gay person i am ( but most of my clothes are black )

FAVORITE  SONG  ?   soooo many so you're getting my 2023 winners: song was not strong enough boygenius but my favorite Album was unreal unearth

LAST  MOVIE  YOU  WATCHED  ?   humiliatingly enough i. Think it was the fnaf movie ( at 3am on call while going insane ) i don't think i've watched one since then

LAST  SHOW  YOU  WATCHED  ?   oh god my brain hasn't been letting me watch anything new lately but i THINK it was trying to watch infinity train and then giving up because of that lmao. if podcasts count i'm relistening to tma-

LAST  SONG  YOU  LISTENED  TO  ?  ... once more to see you mitski

FAVORITE  SEASON  ?   autumn

DO  YOU  HAVE  A  TUMBLR  BEST  FRIEND  ?   i have so many beloved close friends i've met on tumblr i can't just list ONE

tagged by: @mischiiefs tagging: yea mak you stole a good chunk of the crew just steal it from me idk DHJFSJDF

#alright morning coffee drank back to the trenches i go #⁂ ･ﾟ: i was looking for a job‚ and then i found a job‚ and heaven knows i’m miserable now ➛ ooc #⁂ ･ﾟ: sometimes the only way out is as a carcass ➛ dash games

[pompadorbz]

Back on my Mondo girlisms because she's so funny. ummm I was just thinking about the progression of her becoming more outwardly feminine because it's one of those things where it's hard to imagine how it would even happen in the FIRST place. I think Mondo has the slow realization that the reason why constantly trying to become more and more masculine didn't boost her confidence wasn't because she wasn't being masculine enough, but rather, it was the opposite. Instead this WHOLE TIME she'd just been making increasingly aggressive attempts to throw herself into the dysphoria contraption without even knowing it. I personally like the idea that every time Mondo shrugs off anything even REMOTELY feminine it's just her last ditch attempt to distance herself from the things she's just naturally drawn to. Mainly because she just gets so??? Defensive??? Why do you get so defensive about these things babygirl. Anyways. I think she knows there's about a 75% chance that she'll have her classmates' support but erm! One small problem! She's the leader of the largest gang in the country!! So while she absolutely has the ability to kick people out, the fear is still there, along with the whole facade that she'd already been keeping up for the past who-knows-how-long. I don't think she hates her gender momence or even has much of a crisis about BEING that, like honestly I think she'd be more relieved?? Like she just found the source for about a third of her issues in life and can now take steps to not feeling like shit all the time! The REAL crisis comes at the fear of how people are gonna react, especially since she's carrying such a heavy (not to mention incredibly DANGEROUS) leadership position. Luckily I think this is right around the time where she'd be thinking about handing over the position to Takemichi, so I think she ends up making the decision to start out much slower and be only lightly experimental with her appearance until the torch is nearly/completely passed over so that things don't become daunting. A lot of the heavier experimentation is done in her room at first, but it gets to the point by the time she's graduated that she's adopted a sorta light gyaru appearance (she did not get her pointers from Junko, god no. It's like 80% Sayaka and 20% Miu). AFTER she graduates I think she has a spur of the moment thought that's like. If she spent her whole life trying to be as masculine as possible and feeling MISERABLE, then what if she swung the pendulum all the way to the opposite end and tried to be as feminine as possible? It's probably 3am when she thinks this and it passes her mind for a little while but I think it sneaks back in eventually. I think she coordinates one outfit. just one. She then looks in the mirror and oops!!! Trajectory of life has now been forever altered!! I think this is the moment where she gets freed from the i hate pink arc. She still goes into it pretty slowly but I think she's hit with the realization that there is SO MUCH pent up energy regarding this specific facet of her life. She needs to have a year or two where she gets absolutely bonkers with exploration before she even THINKS about mellowing out. Also like. Her sudden alternative fashion explosion occurs like. RIGHT in line with her becoming a carpenter, and getting good with woodworking, and I think that she's already good with embroidery and probably sewing as well, and since she's literally in the culture revolving around heavily modified and customized bikes she likely has a bit of an eye for design. Guys. Do you see the potential here. Do you understand me. This specific version of Mondo needs to become. A weird artist. SHE HAS TO. ITS DESTINY FOR THIS TO HAPPEN!!! THIS BEAST NEEDS TO WALK OUT OF THE WORST PERIOD OF HER LIFE FEELING ALIVE AND BIZARRE!!!

#syd spiels #this is so incoherent. whatever. #hashtag girl. #for a second i thought i'd keep this out of the mondo tag #but then i remembered that we're literally STARVING for beyond surface level takes #so #mondo oowada #keeping this out of the dr tags tho. great googly moogly

[genderqueerpond]

3 and 2 for the music ask please :)

I hope you're having a great day

3: a song that reminds you of summer

2: a song you like with a number in the title

okay so I was trying typing numbers into my library search bar thinking about this and the idea occurred to me give an answer for *every* number 1-10. So. I'm going to try to do that because I think it's fun. Sorry.

1.

2. (twa is two in Scots)

3.

4.

5.

(I could cheat and just use these for all of it because Sleeping At Last did one through nine and they're ALL great... but I won't. I do especially love this one though.)

6.

7. (nostalgia, this one! I've recently started listening to Anthony Green again, he was my icon and role model when I was like 14-17. Meant a lot to me.)

8. (I LOVE this song. This is probably my favorite on this list and so the real answer, and look I didn't even think of it until I got here)

9.

10. okay typing "ten" just gave me parts of words beginning with ten so I'm actually going to stop here.

11. psych. eleven

And bonus song about counting!

....or not, apparently ten is the limit for embedded audio in a post. I'll reblog with it because I also almost forgot to answer for the summer song!

#music asks #god i love music a lot #overthinkinks

[gobstoppr]

a couple mixed media/ environment practice thingies i made

the aesthetic i was going for was sorta . the disorienting and somewhat nonsensical vibes of dreams/ nightmares

--theres a bunch of rambling here about dreams n stuff but before the read more cut i want to mention that i got the textures from the free stock photo website unsplash.com awesome resource -

i cant always exactly recall what my dreams precisely are but theres a specific fascinating energy to them .

when youre dreaming, all these strange events occur, but its only when you wake up can you realize how little continuity exists between each moment you recall . like in the dream, everything feels like it makes enough sense .

i have some . ideas for games n stuff . to do with my funny parasite oc guys but . i feel like theres some potential in these concepts

ykno how sometimes in a dream you can be doing one thing in one place and just sorta . without reason now its completely different . but its not something u ever question as it happens . the vibe of turning around and suddenly being somewhere else .

hear me out . ykno how roguelikes tend to have random dungeon generation and stuff

sowhat if player character is exploring others dreams n stuff . trying to get to some goal idk . navigating this everchanging space not bound by normal logic .

another idea floating around my brain is like . ok what if we have this dream world and the normal world and theres like . an overlap between them . switching between 'modes' to make your waythru the dream space .

ok so this is a bit hard to convey what i have in mind but . imagine your in a dream where you're in some room . letsjust say like a classroom . youre seated in one spot , viewing the room from one angle . your perspective is limited . is there anythign behind you, just out of view? whos to say .

because in dreams, whatever isnt the current focus of the dreamer tends to quickly slip our minds . youre focused on the current story or event or whatever . you might slightly remember an earlier event but the superfulous details are all a blur .

ok with that confusing rambling heres the idea . what if these gaps in our perspective, these spaces in our dreams that we arent paying attention to,,, what if the player could travel through the literal holes . like the example with the classroom, the wall behind you isn't the focus, so it may as well not exist at all . a small hole that our funny player character could slip thru to navigate this dreamworld . intentionally disregarding the made up logic of the dreams .

a lot of this is likely kind of nonsense i need to go to bed its 3am as i write this but yea . ideas . !!

#art #text #oc #? sure fuck it #scheduling this for the morning so that more than 2 people will see this

[particular-one]

Yes! You get it, why are we so twinning right now!!! When you said you had a bunch of angst drafts I was so 👀👀 but this first love fic was also scrumptious 🤌

OMG just earlier I was talking jokingly about my soulmate being a guardian angel and then you said that!! The universe is universing 😵‍💫 mallues, my love confirmed!!! Omg oikawa's defense lawyer LOL you're hilarious 😂 you must have your work cut out for you, that's a full time job!! I also think he's whipped in love and would be so down bad! And seijoh hates him for it because he's daydreaming through all of practice and out of it but once game time comes,, the KING is back! It's so effortless too! He would look totally cool if every point wasn't followed by a 'yoohoo~~~' and him winking and shooting hearts at reader LOL. What I wouldn't give to break Oikawa's heart and leave him a mess 🥲 The only man's heart I want to fictionally break and have an angsty love story with more than oikawa is.....kuroo. pls those two simps would be so good to ruin in misery! Oikawa crying in the rain, after having his heart broke multiple times, whyyyy would you put that in my headdddd!!! Kuroo's a scorpio so he'd be so ready to get revenge but he's a squish at heart and really just wants to be loved 🥺 would have a whole revenge plan and then see you in the aisle at target and kenma has to hold him back from going over and proposing right then and then. OMG AND THE THREE AM DRUNK TEXTS AAAAAA!!!!

I'm sorry for spamming your inbox, it's so fun talking to you hehe 💕 I had a rough few days so I'm really enjoying myself on your blog hehe. I'll go now but I look forward to your other works! I do want to request but I have no idea what 😅 Take care and stay hydrated 🥰

-🐰

the conflict of wanting to give my comfort characters the biggest and warmest hug and simultaneously unleashing pain on them is my dilemma always and forever<\3 but heehee it was def fun to write something more fluffy for dan heng before disaster strikes OH FR?? what are the chances LOL a mind link is occurring?? all jokes aside, malleus truly seems like the perfect match 🤭 no but ABSOLUTELY. oikawa thinks he’s all that but reader being 🫤 just throws him off majorly. like what do i have to do to actually make you find me charming :( he is so down bad it is actually really funny. he’s so used to easily winning people over that it frustrates him that it isn’t the same with you. the fact that he is oh so willing to get his heart broken for you???? dedication. yet another point for my “why is oikawa one of the most dedicated characters from the media i consume” essay. 😤 OH I GET U I GET U …. kuroo getting his heart broken and coming up with a full blown revenge scheme but simultaneously drunk texting reader at 3am on why things ended up the way they are is just :(( oikawa and kuroo are just hopeless idiots pining in denial. dw abt it!! it was definitely fun talking to you<3 i’m sorry to hear that, but i do hope things get better for you! my inbox is always open whenever you want to chat ✨ if u come up with any requests u would like for me to write, hmu anytime!

#·˚ * 🔭 carlyle asks: 🐰 anon