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agroteraa · 2 days

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I Wanna Be Your Dog

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: Oliver's memories of one of the evenings at Oxford, where you began getting closer. And a night in Saltburn, where you try to be dominant with him.

Actaeon series spin-off, taking place between Artemis and The Wrath of the Stag.

Warnings: smut, dom!Reader, sub!Oliver, switching, oral, penetration sex.

Word Count: 2,8K

It was another spring party at Oxford. All the young people were chatting cheerfully with bottles and glasses in their hands in the slightly dim light of the dormitory's common room. Felix and Oliver were almost lying relaxed on the couch and had been silent for some time.

“Now, can you eenie, meenie India or Annabel, and take one fucking home? Because they look miserable,” Oliver suggested softly.

“Eenie, meenie, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by his toe. If he squeals, let him go. Er..." Felix seemingly forgot the text of the counting-out rhyme, but decided to finish it as soon as possible and make a choice anyway, "You're out, boy scout!"

The choice fell on Annabelle. He happily pecked Oliver on the cheek in gratitude, which made him grin widely. Oliver liked being praised. Especially by those who were important to him. Felix quickly jumped up from the sofa and, lightly slapping the contented girl on the ass, and went off with her upstairs.

“Well, what the fuck, mate? I’ve been chirpsing her for about an hour. I wanted at least a hand job...” the guy Annabelle left said in disappointment.

An hour. What did he know about waiting. How about almost a whole year, mate? Oliver smiled indulgently to himself. And anyway, how shallow that guy thoughts and desires were.

“I know. We all want a fucking handjob, mate. Get yourself a title and a massive fuck off castle.”

That where it was hard to argue. A title and a massive fuck off castle had never harmed anyone in life yet.

"Hey, here I am! And where is Felix?.." you were surprised when you returned from your dorm room and sat back down on the sofa, only this time next to Oliver alone.

"I don't know really," he shrugged, smiling, "I think he’s decided to go have some fun on his own."

"Hmm," you pursed your lips, not really surprised, but still, deep down, a little upset that Felix was acting like that again. You guessed where and why he might have gone, but decided not to focus on that thought right now. Besides, you'd already poured another bottle of your drink into yourself. There was some silence in the air. Before that, you had fun talking to the guys, mostly Felix, and you had never been alone with Oliver for long, especially at parties. You clenched your bottle tightly like a social lifebuoy.

Oliver was even beginning to interest you a little, just a little, but you still had no idea what and how to talk to him in private. He still seemed more like Felix's shadow. But at the same time, being face-to-face for at least a short time, you felt like you had to tell Oliver something meaningful, something deep... as if you should be giving away to him some of your secrets. You were vaguely disturbed by this feeling, as now you were just in the mood for small talk only.

"Um... so… how’s your study going?" you asked, not knowing where else to start a new separate conversation with him besides studying.

"Pretty well," he replied a little awkwardly, embarrassed by your close presence himself. Before that, Felix separated you on the couch, but now he wasn’t a bother anymore. Oliver definitely liked this intimacy, even though he was obviously not used to it yet. But one gets used to the fine things quickly. And Oliver was greedy for all the new truly fine things in his life.

"And yours?"

"Yeah, too," you took a small sip from the bottle, trying not to look him in the eye. At the same time, because you felt awkward and because these blue eyes have been looking at you so piercingly lately, as if they were drilling right into your soul. You couldn't tell if it was embarrassing for you, or if it was some other kind of excitement. Maybe both.

"And what about yours..." Oliver was interrupted by one of Felix's many friends, Chad, who plopped down on the arm of the sofa next to you.

"Hey, Y/N! I finally got to the party on your campus! How are you?"

"Oh, Chad! It's been a long time, it’s like you've disappeared somewhere. Have you really been studying so hard lately?" you both laughed loudly at this very bold assumption of yours. You continued to communicate, actively exchanging the latest news. Over time, you felt guilty a little. You turned to Oliver and smiled at him. He smiled back understandingly. His face visibly saddened when you turned back to the blond guy. He began to examine the empty bottom of his plastic cup, twirling it slightly in his hands. How should he get Y/N's attention? He didn't know. He had to come up with a plan. What would he do, what should he say, so that you…

"Hey, Oliver! Did you have any classes with Mr. Wharton?" you asked with interest, involving him in your conversation. He exhaled a little as he realized that you weren't leaving him in the middle of this party, where he felt like a stranger without Felix and you. You looked at him with a warm smile, and something inside him finally clicked and fell into place.

"Er, yeah... that oddball. He constantly comes up with fruit analogies for everything and even sometimes speaks on their behalf while holding them in hands."

"Ah, have you seen that too?! Y/N, I told you, he's an old weirdo! Only you are attending the wrong classes!" exclaimed Chad, and you all laughed merrily. The conversation was going well, and Oliver was incredibly happy about it. He didn't feel lonely anymore because of you.

But in return, some feelings that he had only vaguely suspected until this moment began to awaken inside him. You didn't stop drinking, and at some point, Chad put his arm around you and started lightly stroking your back. You giggled without giving it much thought, especially under the influence of alcohol. But Oliver saw perfectly well how Chad looked more and more into your eyes, lowering his gaze to your lips and lightly licking his own. It was very subtle, but Quick noticed it all. The way his hand keeps stroking your back, gripping you tighter and tighter. Oliver saw it all perfectly well, because he wanted to be in that place himself.

No, rather, he didn't really want to. He had long imagined your first kiss when you were fully conscious, willing and not under the influence of some alcohol, when you were too much mellow-minded. And he wouldn't let your kiss with Chad happen now, in this state, nor ever.

Sometimes it seemed you and him were very different. He could see through everything, and sometimes it was like you notice none of what you really should. How could you not understand that this Chad wanted to take you upstairs just like Felix did with Annabel?

You were kind and open, maybe even too friendly, oh, Y/N. Oliver was drawn to you like a moth to a fire. You were quite a complete and content person in your own right, and this was very attractive to the many-faced Oliver, who was still struggling to find a place in this life, especially here, in his first year at Oxford.

And it seems that he began to realize that he had found his place next to you. And he wanted to take this place like a guard dog, protecting it and you from all the adversity and guys like Chad.

You didn't forget about Oliver and wanted him to feel fine and less lonely, even hardly knowing him, even having so many friends and acquaintances here, even in the midst of fun of the party. You showed towards him attention and care.

Yeah, he would like to be your dog, he thought now.

Fortunately, you soon got up, freeing yourself from Chad's embrace and going to the bathroom. Great. Oliver had been carefully observing the situation in the common room all this time, so he immediately got up from the sofa and sauntered into the common kitchen, where India was smoking, still slightly displeased that Felix had not chosen her.

"How’s the party? " Oliver asked politely, grabbing a can of beer from the fridge.

India rolled her eyes, twirling a cigarette in her fingers, "What do you need?"

"Me? Nothing. But that guy has been looking at you half the evening without stopping," he nodded towards Chad and winked, "Just saying."

"Isn't he hanging out with Y/N?"

"No, he doesn't sleep with his buddy Felix's old friends. So, the way is clear."

"Oh, are they friends with Felix?" India narrowed her eyes. That was good, she needed some male attention right now, especially from those whom Catton Jr. might become jealous of. Thus, the girl went off towards her chance.

When you had returned to the common room, you saw Chad and India flirting with each other on the couch, and the girl did not let go of her hands off him. Okay. That was unexpected, but okay, it was a student party, after all. You shrugged your shoulders and started thinking about where you could sit now.

"Everyone seems to be having fun with each other tonight," Oliver, who happened to be next to you, shrugged sympathetically. Indeed, everyone around was busy with their own lively conversations, and someone was already far from just "talking".

"To singles?" he offered a playful toast, and you agreed with a grin, "Apparently so!"

"Cheers!" you clinked your drinks, continuing to talk a little more relaxed with each other. So, that how you started getting closer from that evening, and you began getting to know the real Oliver. At least that was what you thought at the time. He looked at you with a shy smile of a complete adoration as you were telling your stories full of joy and tipsy giggling. His eyes were shining like two starry sapphires right now.

If a guard dog wants to protect the peace of its owner and scare away other dogs, then it must inspire fear itself. Maybe sometimes not very intentionally, but instill just a little fear and sense of power even to its own master. Oliver wanted to be a good guard dog.

He would take this place next to you.

* * *

And he took it.

Now he was hovering over you, pinning you between his arms, leaning on your bed in your bedroom in Saltburn. It was the middle of the night, and finally not a single one inhabitant of this house could bother you right now.

Oliver thought all day about how he would continue his way with you at night, along the way remembering the evening of that party in Oxford, where you finally began to get closer. He looked down at you rapturously, biting his lip and breathing heavily, still not believing that all this was really happening. Not just right now, but in general, everything.

His blue eyes were gleaming with utter delight in the dim.

"What else does my sweet Y/N want?" Oliver asked you, recovering his breathing.

He bent lower, and a chain dangled from his neck, swaying slightly. The metal heated by the warmth of your bodies tickled your lips slightly. You lifted your head and gently but firmly catching the chain with your lips.

"Mm-hmm," Quick mumbled with curiosity. You smiled, gritting the chain with your teeth and began to shake it slightly from side to side. He opened his lips excitedly, inhaling sharply.

"Am I your doggie today? Oh, I'm more than willing to be, sweetheart," he said in his deep sexy accent.

He wanted to add "now and always," but didn't. Oliver was afraid that if he showed how willing he was to obey you, he would lose your interest. He was used to changing masks, adapting to different situations and someone's needs. He was an awkward and shy nerd when you first met, and that was largely true, because of his deep core nature and the new posh environment at Oxford. Fortunately, he had successfully joined Felix's company and was able to relax a little. And here in Saltburn, he almost felt like the master of the situation.

If you wished, he would always be that sweet, shy and awkward guy for you, if only you were truly happy about it. But he had learned that he interested and intrigued you mostly when he showed a more powerful, dominant and somewhat even dark part of himself. And that made him really pleased, because you viewed him the way he hoped to be in his own deep wildest dreams.

And yet, he still wanted to be your dog, an obedient dog who would do anything for you. In a sense, he was. And today he decided to demonstrate you that in more obvious way.

"What do you want me to do? I'm all yours," he leaned back next to you, belly up. Oliver smiled playfully. Right now, he was a tiger who had been caught by the toe with his own permission.

Biting your lip, you straddled him, sitting on his thighs. After enjoying this view, you ran your hand from his navel, sliding your fingers up the groove between his prominent muscles. Oliver exhaled sharply. You stopped at his neck, grabbed his chain, and pulled him to you. Now the guy was in a sitting position, he looked at you adoringly while his hands slid over your waist.

Without letting go of one hand from the chain, you slowly rose and began to descend on his cock. Oliver hissed with satisfaction, "Yes, my dear, just like that..."

"I didn't let you talk," you pulled the chain slightly, smiling slightly.

"Oh," he said in surprise, but gladly began to obey you, nodding in agreement.

You began to move slowly on his things, while Oliver's strong hands supported you with ease, guiding you, leaving hot prints on your skin.

His hands were all over you as his lips feverishly kissed everything they could reach. Finally, he reached for your lips, covering them with a hot kiss full of saliva, admiration and arousal.

When you broke the kiss, you said, a little hesitantly, but still firmly enough, "Take your hands off, next time you touch me when I tell you."

Oliver smiled enthusiastically – you learned quickly from his example, apparently. He liked the hint of his own power and dominance reflected on himself now through you.

He obeyed your request, although it was getting harder to fulfill it by every passing minute. He wanted to touch you again, guide your body and push it harder on his hard needy cock. It became unbearable after a while, and he whined a little. He looked at you a little pleadingly, but you nodded no.

He kissed your breasts again, but in response he got "Do not touch at all."

"Only I can now," with these words, you ruffled his hair and pressed harder against his shoulders. He groaned at the inability to touch you at all, it was a new sensation, or rather, its absence.

You grabbed his hair, and he put his head closer, burying it in your hand. It was the only chance to touch you in any way. Oliver closed his eyes and inhaled noisily through his nose. He didn't even mind if you squeezed his hair even harder, hell, maybe even poked his face into the sheet, where he would inhale the scent of your arousal. If you had forced him to lick it off, he would have willingly obeyed, as long as you continued to press his face to the bed, clutching his dark curls. He even imagined doing the same with the bathtub you were lying in lately. In his bathroom. This thought turned Oliver on even more.

Degrading him, talking him down, pulling his hair or chain harshly - he would not always like to be in this role, but he would like to give you that opportunity from time to time. If only you'd asked. And even if you hadn't asked. Because it was you. And because he was like that.

Reaching the peak almost at the same time, you dug your nails into his back deeply, which made Oliver's eyes darken slightly and starry at the same time. With a pleased moan, you released your grip and sank down onto the pillows. But that wasn't all of it, and you decided to play the role given to you to the very end.

Clutching his soft dark hair, you moved his head to your thighs. He looked back at you with hazy from own rapture eyes.

"Please," you said softly, still not being able to be dominant enough. But this sweetness and dissimilarity from his own, even in a situation where you could and should do it, but asking instead, drove Oliver crazy to his limit. He attacked you with a growl, delivering all the pleasure he could possibly give to you that night.

* * *

Oliver was lying with his arms around your lower back, his head resting on your stomach. Quick looked faithfully into your eyes. His face reflected the moonlight of the deep quiet night that was now in Saltburn.

You stroked and scratched him behind the ear, he rubbed his nose contentedly against your smooth belly skin.

"Is my mistress happy?"

"Yes," you laughed, started to play softly with his hair.

"Then I am happy too," he said, closing his eyes and rubbing his cheek against your soft belly, "Now and always."

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loveyourownsmiilee · 2 days

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Hello :) I’m not used to asking questions on here but I’m just curious and I coupdn’t stop myself. How do you think they can turn this whole season the way so it has nothing to do with Buddie. Because since the first episode of season 7 they’ve been writing their lines with kind of a deeper meaning, in a way that can be understood like a foreshadowing in them going canon (like the whole jealousy plot where Buck is still so obviously confused to what/who he wanted, Tommy’s „MY attention?”, the coming out scene when Buck says he’s relieved and he looks anything but). I have my clown shoes on and I don’t see how they can end this season without giving us a hint at Buddie (my guess is Buck will have some kind of feelings realisation about Eddie) but knowing what they did to couch theory and other times where they crushed shippers hopes showing only their friendship and nothing more I’m trying to brace myself for another dissapointment. Like, we are all just so sure about Buddie, but what if the writers throw another curveball at us? And what could that curveball possibly be? Anyways, hope you have a nice day! 😊

Hello! Thank you for taking the time to send me a question! I’m always happy to answer 🥰

Here’s the thing, the last two seasons were all weird bc we had another show runner who point blank made it clear she wasn’t on board with Buddie being romantic in any way. She legit called that will reveal scene platonic and said it’s normal for best friends bc her mother and her female best friend did the same thing. She was allergic to queer people. We have the return of show runner who was the original show runner. He was always pro Buddie even if he never point blank said so. This man killed off Shannon bc he knew the fans were angry with her for leaving her child. He liked a tweet that said Shannon was Eddie’s beard. He’s been proactively and consistently sharing Buddie content before the season even started. Also talking about how much he enjoys Buck and Eddie’a dynamic and is going to try to hit that in every episode. The first episode was very much a reintroduction and what did they do? They showed Buck, Eddie, and Christopher as a whole ass family unit. They made it clear to everyone tuning in that those three are a family together.

Now I think the reason Eddie is soooo heavily intertwined with Buck’s scenes is bc it’s intentional. I also am under the impression, as I’ve said many times recently, that Tim not only spoke to Oliver earlier in the season about his plans, but also Ryan. There’s a deliberate reason as to why Oliver and Ryan are actively promoting this season together. I will die on this hill that Ryan is fully aware. And we had that confirmed when Lou pretty much said it was originally supposed to be Tommy and Eddie but things didn’t work out. So what that actually tells me is that Tim has plans to make BOTH Buck and Eddie queer. And he’s going with Buck first but will eventually get to Eddie. They already planted massive seeds in 7.05 by bringing up religious guilt and all that talk about Eddie’s Catholicism. It’s happening and that is a far better way to tell Eddie’s story than him being kissed by a man randomly. So I just, idk even with this new interest in Buck and Tommy, I truly don’t think it’s something that will divert the writers and show runner from their original plans, I should hope not. They can’t dismiss 6 years of development for a new love interest especially when said love interest is a literal copy of Eddie. So I don’t think they’ll switch gears and I think we’re on the same page as to what is coming up for them. Literally the fact that they made Buck bi confirms to me that Buddie is inevitable.

#juju answers #sopphiex #buddie #tommy kinard #911 speculation

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skyevie · 2 days

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I finally finished both mcl new gen episodes (kind of long post about my opinions and feelings)

Tbh I wasn't so sad about the old mcl coming to an end because I think when armin was removed back in hsl it just prepared me for whatever could come next LMAO. I am a big fan of Jason and Amanda, the rest of the Li's... are there I guess ! I think the new point system is kind of weird and overcomplicated for no reason, I really don't like the fact that we have to pay AP's for dialogue and clothes because I can either buy more clothing/recolors and be satisfied with how my character looks or save up for the new episodes... and the fact that you can't buy AP with money, only the blue hearts that can be traded for AP? (not to mention that the prices went up comparing to go mcl at least in my country) But you also need the blue hearts for those special moment with LI's every ep... like idk its sad that there is a part of content you can miss out because you simply don't want to spend money every time an ep is here lol. The missions (which is basically the eldarya expeditions) are fine since we get clothes for that. The calendar is a nice touch up because it's something new and refreshing. But the paid part and vip subscription and the clothes offers in the shop are the next thing that don't seat well with me.... Like we could get a little more for that price... especially since it rounds up to 120 dollars per year... And the fact that all the cute outfits are locked behind a daily shop rotation that have to use real money on... Oh and the last on the more negative side why does our uncle only give stuff for our fuckass goose.... We love you Taki but it's not that serious we could get like a t-shirt... or smth...

On the positives, I really like the fact that our Candy can have a personality now! Like finally we aren't a blank page that adjusts to the people we talk to and we can have opinions AND THEY MATTER! Also the clothes are much cuter, like finally someone thought - yes u can be an adult and have fun clothing and not dress boring! We love that! And I giggled to myself a little when I read why Candy switched her job lol. Reminder me of Eric's arc Eric we love you forever idc about what other said about your route.

At the end of the day I think I will try the vip for one month just to see is it really like worth it for someone who is going to be rather active on this game. Idk im excited for the plot tbh and especially how much it changes depending on the fact if we romance the Devenementiel LI's or Jason.

Also if anyone needs help with answers to the episodes I can help :3

#mcl #mcl new gen #my candy love #my candy love new gen #my friend asked me if was writing a constitution #otome game so impactful on your life you write a whole pharagraph on tumblr

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yourtongzhihazel · 3 days

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At least voting is doing something, even if it's the bare minimum. All you're doing is talking about a revolution and overthrowing the government without actually doing anything.

And on the very very very slim chance you are doing something, it clearly isn't working and it failed since we're stuck with Joe Biden and Trump.

No, anon, it is you, not me who is not doing anything. 3 states have now banned protesting. Roe v. Wade was overturned under a "blue" regime. Cop cities are being built across the country under "blue" politicians. the surge of attacks on LGBT and especially trans people have continued under the biden regime, who claim "they can do nothing". Some of the most draconian crime bills are being instituted by "blue" politicians. A new PATRIOT act is just about to drop. To cap it all off, you are actively supporting a genocide. The fascism has been here for years, but your pansy ass just won't see it and in fact, constantly run along and defends it. Liberal democracy's chickens have come home to roost. Enjoy the blue fascism we have now. Maybe it's color will change soon. But I know you're, more likely than not, in a camp who doesn't materially give two shits about our suffering. If you did, you would be scrambling for something that works, even direct action. Instead, you're very content living in the current fascist state of affairs.

I am a labor organizer. I organize and work for unions. I do exactly everything I tell everyone else to do. The revolution takes time, energy, and self defense, things which I AM organizing. It is not a cake walk. It is not a dinner party which we can do in a fortnight. If you want to make the claim that organizing isn't working, then you are also making the hidden claim that what you are currently doing, that is, voting, is working. Which, as you even admit yourself, it is not! You have done jack shit but actively support imperialism abroad and fascism at home. You have no material or moral ground to stand on.

Grit your fucking teeth and start fucking organizing or stand with the fascists and wait for a proletarian bullet to enter your skull, you fucking fascist.

#i fucking hate liberals #unlimited genocide on the first world #every fucking day i become more and more third worldist

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cozy-cinnamon-roll · 2 days

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Stitches (Part II)

(Read Part I Here! used to be We Interrupt This Broadcast... changed the name because I feel like this fits better 😅)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Ler!Rosie, Ler!OC, Lee!Alastor (strictly platonic)

Content/Trigger Warnings: tickling, very brief blood mention, medical themes (non-graphic & painless). And again, this is set right after Alastor gets his ass handed to him by Adam, so you can expect some angst (don't worry, he gets better).

If there are any trigger warnings you'd like me to add in the future (and/or to this fic), PLEASE let me know! I am always happy to oblige. 💕

This is a ticklefic! If that's not your cup of tea, kindly move along.

"Almost ready" I said. "Basically finished" I said. Sorry y'all, the Chronic Illness Fairy struck. 😅 I will say this was my favorite part to write, but also the one I'm most uncertain about... bit more angst in this installment and I'm not much of an angst writer lol... but with Rosie in the mix (especially as a ler), angst never lasts long. 🥰

Also I changed the title. Hopefully it's not confusing that way... cuz without Part 1 this fic makes zero sense 😅

One last thing... I'm so happy y'all like Trudy! Was thinking about posting a lil sketch of her at some point (I need a new insomnia project now that this fic is done 😅). I've been having a truly awful few weeks on the anxiety front, so all the positive feedback on Part I has been quite literally making my days 💕

Hope you enjoy!!

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"Ooh, you stubborn little bastard. You're still gonna refuse to laugh?" Rosie mutters.

Alastor doesn't dare try to speak. All he can manage is a defiant shake of his head.

"Look, my friend. If you 'don't mind a little tickling,' and getting all giggly is your specialty…" Rosie tweaks his bottom rib, eliciting a noise that comes just short of a squeak. "What, exactly, is the problem here?"

"I'm supposed to be in control!" he grinds out through his twitching grin.

"You are in control, sir." Trudy abruptly withdraws her hands, holding them up innocently. "You can tell me to stop at any time."

Alastor cringes. He was sorta hoping no one would point that out.

"Which is why I find it so fascinating that you haven't yet." A sly smirk creeps across Rosie's face.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I- I'm humoring you!"

"Humoring me?" Rosie tilts her head. "My dear, I hope you're not doing this just for my sake. If you don't want Trudy to check for further injury-"

"No, I do! O-on my terms!"

"This is on your terms."

"Yes, but-"

"In fact, you insisted."

He stumbles again, before mumbling another meager, "…to humor you!"

Trudy shoots her boss a disoriented look - but Rosie, as usual, is hearing her friend loud and clear.

"Alastor." Rosie rolls her eyes, gestures for Trudy to step aside, and scoots over to place a hand on his knee. "Adam is dead. Everyone in hell thinks you're either succumbing to your wounds in some remote gutter or hiding in whatever alternate dimension you just spent the last seven years. You're not even 'on air'." She leans in. "You can drop the act for a moment, if it's what you need."

That certainly hits the mark. For the first time, Alastor's smile falters - not completely dropping, but certainly losing much of the strained quality it's had since he arrived.

"I wish I could, my dear."

Encouraged, Rosie continues. "Well, what's stopping ya? As much as I love spending time with Alastor the Radio Demon… if you wanna take this opportunity to let out whoever's underneath that effervescent grin of yours, you know we wouldn't mind."

Alastor swallows - and for the first time in a decades, Rosie finds his expression difficult to read. "Rosie, I'm afraid I can't really..."

"I mean, you've been holding that same silly show-host-smile for years! Don't tell me you've never gotten tired of it!"

"It's sewn on, Rosie."

"…What?"

He hesitates. "Let's just say today wasn't the first time I've been, ah... stitched up." As he speaks, he gestures to his toothy grin. And for once, there's not a trace of distortion in his voice.

Rosie's dark eyes go wide when she realizes what he means. The cannibal overlord just stands there for a beat, in an uncharacteristic moment of shock.

But, being Rosie, she quickly recovers. "Well, so what?"

"I'm just saying, I'm afraid I can't really drop the act."

"Nonsense! Since when has your act had anything to do with your face?" Rosie flicks her hand, as if brushing the thought aside. "Who cares if you can't show genuine Alastor. I wanna hear him."

"But my microphone..."

"You're doing just fine without it."

Once again, this attempt at reassurance only makes Alastor look more disturbed. "Th-this can't be me!"

"...Well, no. This right here sure isn't the Alastor I know. But…"

Alastor is barely listening to her anymore. His broadcast persona has been his sole identity since he was alive. Now his radio tower has been reduced to rubble, his microphone snapped clean in half, even his carefully-styled clothing left in tatters…

If this is the Genuine Alastor he's now stuck with - panicked, stuttering, weak - he can't imagine how he'll ever be able to face the rest of hell…

But these racing thoughts are once again interrupted by nails tracing up his sides. A sharp yelp cuts the air as poor Alastor just about jumps out of his skin.

"…Perhaps I can offer a little help?" Rosie suggests gently, once she has his undivided (and adorably flustered) attention. "On your terms, of course?"

Alastor just gazes back at her for a long moment. "What do you have in mind?"

"I happen to know something about you that even you can't fake."

The radio demon hesitates… before heaving a sigh and, to Rosie's surprise, giving a small nod of consent.

She breaks into a brilliant (and frankly terrifying) smile.

Before Alastor can brace himself, Rosie's hands have both found his sides and begun working into his waist. Having just watched him squirm around under Trudy's thorough probing twice (and adored every second of it), she already has a pretty good idea of where his worst spots are.

Which is made abundantly clear by Alastor's reaction. Within seconds he's gone from still trying to hold it all in by habit, to giggling into his hands, to cackling hysterically.

And it's the kind of laughter she's spent the last seven years missing. This isn't the confident, taunting chuckle he brings out for battles or brushing off rivals; this is bright, helpless, occasionally hiccuping laughter, the kind that is nearly impossible for him to stop once he starts - and the kind she only has the privilege of hearing when something truly amuses him.

"You can't sew your laughter on," Rosie reminds him. "This is all yours."

Rosie's fingers creep up under his shirt to scribble on bare tummy, adding a couple new sweet spots to her mental catalogue. This technique brings out even more of her favorite little quirks: the way he bats playfully (and completely ineffectually) at her wrists; his repeated attempts to speak around his laughter that only result in frantic spurts of incomprehensible, giggle-laced gibberish.

As she traces her nails across his lower belly she also finds a tiiiny layer of unexpected pudge. Which probably shouldn't surprise her - he's been out of the battle scene for seven years, after all. All those deer carcasses have to go somewhere.

Regardless, she finds it terribly endearing for some reason... and the surge of affection translates into a corresponding surge in the intensity of Rosie's tickles.

"AHaha! Ro- Rosie!" he blurts, his voice jumping a full octave higher than normal. "Stop!!"

Rosie removes her hands immediately. "Stop?"

"Aha- ah- well- I mean, er…" He stumbles breathlessly, and gives a sheepish cough.

"You didn't really want me to stop, did you?"

Rosie resumes with a chuckle, reeling herself in just a little. "How 'bout we say... oh... 'enough,' if you really want me to quit?"

Of course, she has to go and say it out loud.

"M-more of a reflehex..." he admits reluctantly.

Alastor tosses a shaky thumbs-up at her, already too lost in his own giggles to manage a verbal reply.

And he's gotta admit… Rosie was absolutely right. He wouldn't stop her right now for all the souls in hell. There's a reason Alastor has the most recognizable evil cackle of any other overlord. He can't help but find dissolving into laughter as cathartic and exhilarating as always - even if this time, it's not at some poor soul's misfortune. It's a result of his best friend's affection for her darling deer demon.

"As fun as getting your soft little belly is," Rosie muses, pausing to let Alastor catch his breath for a moment, "I can't help but wonder if you're ticklish anywhere else…"

Alastor may be off the air, but Rosie can practically hear the screech of microphone feedback just by the look on his face. "….I plead the fifth."

"Have you considered his ears?" Trudy pipes up shyly. While she'd managed to restrain herself behind an impeccably professional bedside manner earlier, it had taken everything in her power not to stroke Alastor's ears when she'd been close enough to do so. They were just. so. fluffy.

"Ohhh, heavens…" Alastor, for his part, curls in on himself at the mere suggestion.

Rosie grins. "Hey, 'no' is always an option."

A long pause. Alastor can't believe he's considering this. But the sensation of being tickled, as unbearable as it is, does feel awfully pleasant… and it's been so long since anyone has dared to touch him…

And what else does he have to lose at this point, anyway?

"I suppose if you're… very gentle…"

"Are you aware that your ears are the softest thing in the nine circles?"

This stipulation ends up backfiring. When it comes to his ears, gentle is worse. So, so much worse.

Poor Alastor is too busy clutching his stomach and snickering madly into his sleeve to reply.

"I should know, I work in retail. These right here-" Rosie traces her fingers down the feathery-soft edges, sending the radio demon into a new round of hysterics. "-Would fetch a pretty penny."

"They're nohot for saHA-ale!!"

"Nooo, I should say not." Rosie's hapless victim lurches back into the cushions as her fingers find the fluffy region at the base of his ears. Even without the microphone, his cackles have no problem filling the room. "You're the only demon classy enough to wear them."

"And don' you - GAHaha! - f-forget it!" He's so drunk on laughter now that he's beginning to slur his words. His careful elocution has gone the same place as his steady tone, and lack of stutter.

Luckily, he's also far too drunk on laughter to care.

...Right about there, Rosie notices that the faint hum of radio static in the air is no longer just in her head.

He is laughing his heart out for the first time in weeks. Genuinely laughing for the first time in decades. And laughing completely for himself, for his own enjoyment, without need for intimidation or control or image or audience, for the first time since long before he died.

While Trudy typically can't say much for her self-preservation instinct, she's got enough of one to feel hesitant joining her boss in tickling the most powerful overlord in hell (outside the pretense of medical intervention, at least). So she just stands back, watching fondly as The Most Dangerous Overlord This Side of the Pentagram utterly destroys the deer demon.

...At least, until she notices a flicker of green light out of the corner of her eye. Lying forgotten on the end table, the splintered ends of Alastor's microphone are sparking and crackling like live wires.

The surgeon creeps over for a closer look, staring in fascination. And then - just as Rosie gets poor Alastor behind the ears and delivers a scribble to his tummy at the same time - she ever-so-gently nudges the fractured ends closer to one another.

To her surprise, a bright green spark arcs clear across the gap. For a fraction of a second, the whole staff radiates a flash of a familiar green glow.

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

"Keep him laughing, Rosie," Trudy murmurs over her shoulder. It appears the Radio Demon's downfall will be nothing more than an intermission.

Thanks for being so patient with me y'all! Hope it was worth the wait 💕

💜- Cozy

#lee!alastor #ler!rosie #ticklish!alastor #oh deer he's ticklish #hazbin hotel tickling #hazbin hotel tickles #ticklefic #dr. trudy sawblade #my ocs

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karniss-bg3 · 1 day

Text

Salute, Larian Studios

Heya folks! It’s been a while, I hope everyone is doing well. I’m breaking my hiatus to discuss the recent announcement made by Larian Studios on their steam development blog. I will add the link here for those who wish to read the blog in its entirety but be warned, there are patch seven spoilers within. I wish to focus on a particular section in the final three paragraphs of the document, which reads as follows:

“Being given the chance to develop a game set in the Dungeons & Dragons universe has been a dream come true for all of us. But as Swen recently confirmed, we won't be introducing any major new narrative content to the story of Baldur's Gate 3 or its origin characters and companions, nor will we be making expansions or Baldur’s Gate 4. As an independent studio since 1996, we value the freedom to follow our creativity wherever it leads. In this case, after six years in the Forgotten Realms and much discussion and rumination, we’ve decided to seize this opportunity to develop our own IPs. We’re currently working on two new projects and we couldn’t be more excited about what the future has in store. It’s still early days - we’ll tell you more about those later down the line. But know that even as our focus turns to these new games, the sensibilities that brought you Baldur’s Gate 3 are alive and well here at the Larian castle. We’re fueled by the very same fire in our bellies, one that drives us to create immersive experiences shaped by your choices, and we can’t wait for you to join us on this next adventure.”

I will admit, when I first read this I felt a tinge of disappointment. As someone who had a lot of hope in seeing some stories continued, Kar’niss especially, this feels like the once open door is now sealed shut permanently. To be entirely fair, I always looked at an expanded Kar’niss story with skeptical optimism; hope for the best but expect the worst. After all, Kar’niss was designed as a throw away plot device that had no real bearing on the over-all narrative. Most of what has been derived of the character is entirely fan driven and not based on anything confirmed by Larian as a whole. Furthermore, there were many fan favorites that had a larger base than our dear drider and chances are even if Larian did decide to do an expansion, Kar’niss still wouldn’t make the cut.

With that said, I respect Larian in their choice. To expand on other characters would cost a lot of money and time. To juggle that alongside making new games would be unrealistic, and I understand their point of view completely. We also don’t know what is going on behind the scenes which could’ve influenced their choices all the more. Over all this situation mirrors the old saying, “Don’t cry because it’s over, be happy that it happened.” I am happy, and grateful. Without Baldur’s Gate 3 this blog wouldn’t exist. All of the amazing interactions I’ve had over several months would’ve never occurred, nor would I have found the courage to publicly publish stories to the internet. While I don’t consider myself an awful writer, I never believed my work was good enough for those outside of my personal circle. To say that my confidence has blossomed over the last few months is an understatement, and I owe that to the fantastic support of those in the fandom as well as those close to me. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

With Larian closing up the BG3 shop after the next few patches the question becomes, what’s next? For me, I don’t know. Sadly I’ve been swamped lately and it’s not destined to slow down until the middle of May. By then I hope to have a sufficient breather so I can return to projects I’ve left on the back burner in the interim. The Kar’niss blog will remain in place along with all of the archived stories, theories, and miscellaneous posts that are present. I still have a few writing requests that have waited a lot longer than I anticipated, so forgive me for the delay. I may also make a new blog that is dedicated solely to writing and other fandoms of interest. When the time comes I’ll post it here and folks can follow it if they wish but I’ll understand if not. Regardless of what the future holds, I am very stoked with the experiences I’ve had within the Baldur’s Gate 3 fandom. I’m a painfully shy individual and I am not a spotlight seeker by any stretch of the imagination. This section of the internet allowed me to expand my horizons a bit proving that you can indeed teach an old writer new tricks.

I look forward to seeing what is in store for Larian Studios. So long as they stick to their passion for making good games and treating their customers like people instead of money cows to be milked, then I will support every game release that comes in the future. While I’m sad that the many questions I had about Kar’niss will go unanswered, at least the drider will live on through the stories, art and other creative works made by his fans. In that way he is eternal, as are all of the other characters we’ve grown to love over this journey.

I hope to return on a more regular basis soon. Until then drider army, take care of yourselves and thank you for your continued support.

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #bg3 #karniss #drider #baldurs gate 3 #larian studios #steam #essay #writing #I've missed posting here #the chaos on my end should be over soon #I hope

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failedaethercore · 2 days

Text

Another chapter

So...I wrote that last mini fic I posted, but had this brewing for a couple weeks in the back of my mind, so...I just wrote it.

Obviously (if you read the last one) this is only my third fic ever. So I apologize for any inconsistencies or poor writing. I'm trying to improve.

Enjoy, and please feel free to let me know if you have any requests, I am willing to try!

Pairing: Rafayel x MC (reader, usage of "y/n")

Content: Some drama, mostly fluffy at the end.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

Rafayel twirled his paintbrush idly in his fingers, he was distracted, lost in deep thought as he remembered your last visit.

He had always put up a strong, flirtatious front. He always winked and smirked, and said something to put you on edge, especially when he could pull a clever innuendo out and make you blush first.

But more often than not, your straightforward and candid remarks, gentle and innocent touches, would drive him wild, causing his ears to turn a deep shade of pink. His blood would boil in his veins, unable to control himself whenever your naiveity showed, while you drove him closer to the boundary between respecting your boundaries, and tipping over the edge into taking what he wanted.

You had forgotten. Again. And that in and of itself was enough to drag his heart into depths of sorrow reserved only for those who lost their soulmates to the deep undercurrents. So when you fell back into his life…heh…more like, he tempted you as subtley as he could. The coral he had ground into paint was no mere coincidence. He knew what he was doing, and had hoped that somehow, in some way, you would be pulled in.

He had heard of your new position as a Hunter, so he had hoped you would be a part of the investigation. When Thomas let him know via text a Hunter had come to investigate his paintings, specifically the one that Raymond had bought before his death, he wanted to sing. But when he discovered it was you yourself, he was ready to dance as if there was a bonfire in the center of his studio. He was selfish to drag you back into his life, but he was done being the silent observer. His heart had grown too impatient, too ravenous.

Too weak.

But he gave in to the temptation, finally. His heart had won, and he was slowly playing this game with you, trying to tempt you to choose him, one more time.

Except…

Every small glance, every tiny smile, your angry face when you argued with him, the way the light reflected in your eyes when you laughed. They made his heart beat faster, his temperature rise, and his eyes darken. It would make sense to him, except you were so innocent now. Your memories would flash in your dreams, but never linger long enough to make him feel comfortable to reveal the truth. When you would mention those dreams…or sometimes, nightmares, his heart ached and growled against his ribcage, begging him to tell you. But you would remain in the dark until the day you remembered on your own.

He couldn't thrust the past sins of both your lives onto you, when you were innocent now. He would wait to let those memories resurface on their own, and let himself enjoy the time he has with you now, before the burdens of history rip you from his arms again.

He got to see you often right now, and you had come to rely on him, even if only a little. His heart sung when you would call him out of the blue, or send him a poke for no reason. You wanted to see him, to hear him, you wanted him to think of you, too. But he never needed a reminder to think of you. His heart would never let him forget you, even when he had wanted to. You were his soul, his devoted follower. His heart of itself.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

But now he was consumed by the thoughts of you, as it had been so long since he last heard from you…your recent silence was driving him slowly mad.

He dropped the paintbrush when the phone rang, his thoughts had dragged him far away into the depths of the ocean to reminisce. At first, his irritation overwhelmed him, but then he held a glimmer of hope. Could it be…?

It was Thomas. He left a voicemail mentioning an upcoming interview for a magazine. He had been really putting the pressure on him lately to be better at his media presence. But he sighed angrily, and threw his phone across the studio. It fell with a thud under the sofa, as he reclined against his elbow, sitting halfway up his ladder and staring at the unfinished painting before him.

The blurred smears of color weren't right yet, and he was already annoyed because of that. But you hadn't called him in two weeks. He knew you were on a mission, but the fact that you hadn't so much as checked in once yet, he was ready to snap. You usually at least sent him a text or something by now, just letting him know you were alive.

He refused to text you first, he wasn't the needy type. He meant it. He wouldn't cave. He wouldn't give in. You were the one being childish. Not him. He would hold out until you came to him first.

But when Thomas called again, and wouldn't leave a voicemail, but kept ringing back again and again until Rafayel picked up… He finally picked the phone up from under the sofa, and sighed as he answered. So when Thomas was saying that his bodyguard had ended up at Akso Hospital in critical condition, he didn't hesitate to drop everything and run. He didn't even bother to remember his phone, let alone change out of his wrinkled and paint-splattered clothes. He drove like a madman, the wheels of his sports car squealing whenever he took a turn too hot, and he didn't even apply the brakes if he could avoid it. Running lights whenever he could, if it weren't for the fact that the roads were quiet, he would have been pulled over and arrested for endangering the public.

He pulled into the emergency vehicle loading zone, parking and dashing in, ignoring the shouts of the understandably frustrated paramedics and drivers who now had to deal with his haphazard parking job. He sprinted to the reception desk, immediately asking for you by name.

"And what is your relationship to y/n l/n?" The gentleman behind the desk was clearly exhausted and overworked, nearing the end of his shift, as he glowered up at Rafayel's handsome face. Rafayel didn't even miss a beat, stating bluntly, as if you had agreed ages ago to this arrangement. "My fiancee, she's just been admitted in critical condition, where is she?" The gentleman takes a moment, before making a quick and quiet call to someone on the phone. After hanging up, his face hardened into indifference, as he looked up at Rafayel and motioned down the hall. "She's already been admitted to room C127. You can wait outside until the nurse is done in there."

Rafayel strides to the room without so much as a nod, and grabs the door handle. Before he can open it, he hears a long, painful groan from inside. Your voice. It sounds like you're in agony. He throws it open, shouting your name before the nurse can shush him for being loud.

Your body is laying on the hospital bed, weak but still very much whole. Scratched and battered, and clearly not doing well, but you are not missing anything that he can see. Maybe some hair got chopped off somehow, but you look beautiful to him regardless. He would love you even if you came back as a sea cucumber in the next life, he didn't care.

So when you locked eyes with him, startled by his shout and the slamming of the door, your blood ran cold. You had dropped your phone at some point, the screen shattered and the special hard case you had gotten completely useless, so the entire mission your mind had nagged at you at how worried he must be. You spent all your time teasing and sometimes flirting, but you hadn't been able to shake this feeling that you needed to tell him something more. Your thoughts had drifted to him frequently while you were out on your mission.

So when things started going wrong, and you mean very wrong, you couldn't let him know to wait for your call, or to assure him you were going to be okay, that your wounds were mostly superficial. His eyes, piercing and intense, bore a hole into your heart as if he was trying to make you pay for your betrayal, as if you had broken a promise from centuries past that you had made with him. You quickly tried to cover yourself in a defensive position, even from the bed.

The nurse immediately began to scold him, but he ignored her, as other staff began to run over at the shout. He was about to be escorted out, when you called his name. "Rafayel…" He stopped struggling against the orderlies in that moment. "Y/n! Tell them! You're my fiancee, are you not?!" You blinked through tears of fear, the repercussions of your actions would be indeed steep. "Yes! He is my fiance! Please, let him stay!"

The staff release him soon after, deciding to let it go. Before he could take a step into the room, he was pushed past by a tall, black-haired doctor. He felt familiar, but he couldn't place him. The door was shut shortly after with a cold, short "please give me a moment, she is my patient." And Rafayel stood there, dumbfounded. And a little embarrassed.

He glanced around as people whispered and stared, until he went to sit down outside the room on the chair, and folded his arms impatiently.

He was tapping his leg in annoyance until the door opened again. He stood and watched as the doctor left. He noted now that he was very handsome, and a pang of jealousy gripped his heart as he watched him solemnly nod to you in the room, and then ignore him on his way out. The nurse left shortly after.

You were laying there, in the room. You looked a little haggard now, as if the doctor's words had drained the energy out of you. He strode in, reaching your side in three long steps, only to grab your unbandaged hand and squeezing it.

You were looking down at your hand, as you tried to brace yourself for the barrage of questions, accusations, and the inevitable fight. But suddenly you felt tears on your hand, as his eyes blankly stared at you, large tears rolling down his gorgeous face. Your eyes locked onto his, and he nearly burst into an argument on the spot.

But you held your other hand up to stop him, before he could vent his anger. "I know. I messed up." His eyes softened as he took your other hand and pressed it to his cheek. "Don't do this to me, y/n…" The tears wouldn't stop, he was so angry. He had stayed home for weeks, absolutely worried sick over you, and the first thing he learns is that you've been injured like this, and you just ignored him instead of letting him know yourself.

Then he saw tears, returning his overwhelming emotions with your own. "I'm sorry…my phone…it got damaged…" You keep your hand clasped in his, the other still gently stroking his face. His eyes softened until he found himself holding you, his face buried in your neck. "Don't you dare ever do this again. Never again. You have to tell me when things happen…you must come back to me. Every time. In one piece." Before you could make another move, he scooched you over so he could sit beside you and hold you close. "This is why I hate your work…why can't you just be my bodyguard, and never leave my side? You're not supposed to be hurt like this, y/n…"

You wrapped your arms around him and held him for a moment. Your partner had kept you mostly safe, as he could handle himself, but you had fallen down a hill because of a misstep, which was the main cause of your obvious injuries. This was the first time in a very long time you had needed so many bandages, you usually just needed a quick patch on your way home. But this time you had messed up. You were such a clutz sometimes. But you would berate yourself later.

This man, this beacon of confidence and light-hearted whimsy, who always came bounding into your days with a smirk and a witty retort, was trembling in your arms, as if his world was shaken to its core. You stroked his back and buried your face in his collarbone, sighing softly in his warmth, as you waited for his quiet sobs to subside.

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

He was on top of your treatment plan after that, talking to the nurses, and even Zayne, your primary care physician. They were cold and calculated with eachother, and Zayne seemed especially displeased when he now knew the supposed relationship between you two, but you knew it was because Rafayel had wanted to see you right away, he didn't want to be hindered at the entrance. He didn't love you like that, but you were happy that he cared so deeply, nonetheless.

Zayne took him aside and spoke with him frankly in private, and you couldn't help but overhear some of what was said outside the door, as Rafayel was questioned mercilessly about his intentions, if he was lying, and if he truly even cared for you. When he flat out stated that he loved you and would die for you, your cheeks bloomed red, and you sat frozen to the spot, unable to move ever again.

When a nurse brushed past the two men glaring eachother down outside your hospital room, you were forced to focus on something else, as she mentioned you should be able to leave tomorrow, as your injuries turned out to be almost all superficial in nature. You had been covered in blood, scratches, and some severe bruising when you had arrived, but there was no internal bleeding, no deep gashes, no major bloodloss. Your Hunter partner was elsewhere in the hospital receiving treatment, and she advised you to be more careful from here on out, as she wouldn't be there tomorrow to see you released. The scolding smarted, but when the two men came back in after the nurse left, the room's atmosphere dropped to a point below freezing, as the two of them still hadn't reached an understanding.

"Um…Rafayel, this is Zayne…he's my doctor, and childhood friend…uhh…Zayne…this is Rafayel…he's…" you trail off, unsure what he was to you. Were you just friends with a deep bond? You didn't want to overstep his boundaries, making assumptions on his behalf. "Her lover." He stated flatly, still glaring at Zayne with a firey rage. Zayne maintained his aloof nature, glancing away from Rafayel to look at you. Your bright blush returned as you didn't argue the point in any way, and that seemed to answer the question he had.

"…I see." He nodded curtly to you. "Then I will leave you two to talk… Make sure she gets plenty of rest after this, and don't let her move around too much, she's still wounded." He turns to leave, before you have a chance to say anything to the contrary, and you are left in a storm of emotions, overwhelming and causing your heart to bob in your chest like a buoy at sea. Did he mean that? Did he want that…why would he say that to someone so important to you, without asking you first…you swayed between anger and fear, to warmth and joy at the idea that he wanted you to be in a relationship with him like that.

Before you can speak, he puts a finger to your lips. "Shh. I'm not going to force this, but…I was honest, what I said." Your heart flutters at that. Normally you wouldn't be swayed by his words like this, but his eyes were full of honest determination. He held your hands as he looked into your eyes. "I'm going to let you choose. But know that I want this…" He kisses your knuckles as he continues to stare into your eyes, holding you transfixed.

You gave it a lot of thought before you gave Rafayel an answer, and surprisingly, he didn't push the issue. He did spend a lot more time with you lately, making sure you ate and relaxed. He kept an eye on your bandages while you healed, and kept your mind busy with games and chatter all day when he dropped by. He almost lived at your apartment for a few weeks, so much as to even meet Xavier on his way home from the hospital himself. The two also didn't get along, and you found them outside your door having a silent argument, when you came out to see what was taking him so long to come back with the snacks.

"R-rafayel…this is Xavier…he's my partner. We go on missions together." Rafayel's eye twitches with jealousy at the mention of it. Xavier gives a faint smirk of smugness. "Xavier…this is…Rafayel…h-he's my…l-lover."

And in that instant, Rafayel's heart burst, and his smug smirk outshone even the sun. You had made your decision in that moment, without having any thought behind it. It just felt right. Xavier nodded quietly. "Well…I'm back, we'll talk soon at work…" Xavier turned to leave, and you gave him a smile and a quick "uh huh". Before he had taken even a step, Rafayel was pulling you into the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

You let out a scared gasp as he pinned you to the wall beside the door, and looked into your eyes, searching, pleading that it was true. "…are you sure?" You swallow hard, blushing deeply, before you let yourself finally nod silently. He smiles brightly, and takes your face into his hands gently, before placing a soft kiss to your lips. "Good. I was growing impatient."

✧𖤐✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𖤐 ✩

a/n: I wanted something that pulled on some of the lore that really made you think about how Rafayel approached MC in general. I dunno, writing this made me happy. ♡

#love and deepspace #rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #xavier #zayne #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #fanfic #fanfiction #rafayel x mc #neer writes

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