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youryanderedaddy · 4 months

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Summary: You're a princess locked in a tower and guarded by a big, scary dragon. But is he as scary as it seems? tw: female reader, deceit, manipulation, murder (not reader), stockholm syndrome(?) My ko - fi <3

As the youngest princess, you'd always known you would end up like this. In some far off land with little to your name other than some jewels, stuck in a tower just like your mother had been before she got married to a foreign lord, and finally allowed to re-join society. It was such a cliche it was funny at first, but now you just felt like screaming at the top of your lungs from boredom.

At first you didn't feel the unknown presence. The tall man was lurking in the shadows, as if part of the ancient building. You could smell the herbs in the air around him - the minthy fragrance trailing long after he had retired to his chambers. Then little by little you started to recognise him - in certain shades of sunlight, in the back of mirrors, in the tiny lizards crawling at the corners of the stone walls. But nothing could prepare you for that first morning when you saw him - really saw him.

You had woken up early, startled by noise reminiscent of that a bird makes during flight - but multiplied tenfold. You had looked through the window with a weak, fluttering heart. And then you saw his true form - massive yellow wings covered in what looked like pure gold burning brightly in the sky. Long, hard body made of sun - kissed flakes; so sharp they could be used as arrows. And a thin, curled tail drawing circles around your tower.

One of his empty moonlit eyes turned towards you, and it was all over. He immediately dissapeared into thin air, the only evidence of his existence being miles of thick gray smoke. But you weren't going to let the only living creature around run away so easily.

"I saw you!" You screamed long before you could even begin thinking of proper etiquette. Ladylike behavior be damned, you were dying of loneliness in this stupid tower. "Please..." You begged, voice hoarse and desperate from weeks of forced silence. "Come here." You continued ruefully, playing with your hair, chest riddled with anxiety - after all you hadn't spoken to a human being in so long.

You heard a long, almost pained sigh, which made you turn around. You were greeted by a tall brooding figure. It wore the face of a man, but its long golden hair and broad, muscular shoulders pointed to something a lot less human and a lot more devine. He must have been twice your size - trully intimating in all his shining glory. Even in his human form his skin seemed to glow just like his sharp almond - shaped black orbs, constricted in his yellow pupils.

"I'm always here, Your Highness." You remember his exact words simply because you were taken aback by how soft his voice was - just like fine silk. It wasn't the voice of a dragon, but the voice of an angel. "You just never see me." He added with what you then assumed was a hint of playfulness, but now recognised as annoyance. With that he leaned against the wall, crossing his hands together.

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Many months passed since that fateful day. You slowly got to know your new companion - or perhaps, guardian. You learnt that many called him Cain after the fallen son* - once a strong soldier of the Lohemian Kingdom, his injuries had made it impossible to keep fighting. That's how your father found him - abandoned by his brothers, lying in a mudded puddle of his own blood. The rest was history.

He didn't speak very much - but he never left your questions unanswered.

"Cain..." You'd call out with practised uncertainty. Even so far removed from your peers, you still couldn't escape the twisted societal ideals of propriety. You could never be too eager to speak to a man - even if he wasn't fully human. "Is that your real name?" You wondered, genuinely curious. You slowly looked away from the book you were holding and towards your friend, the book long forgotten. The dragon was sitting in the other corner of the room. Despite all the time you had spent together so far, he was still hesitant to come near you. There was a certain stiffness in his strong shoulders - as well as his jaw.

"Princess..." The man mumbled softly, your heart aching by the sheer tenderness of the term. Usually you'd pay it no mind as it was your right from birth, your title - but titles didn't matter here. There was no place for status or riches between those four intimate walls that always felt small despite the spacious squares. "Don't you know curiousity got the cat's tongue?" He responded with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - even his smiles were serious and stoic.

"You have it all wrong." You huffed, standing up from your comfortable chair just to make a big, dramatic gesture with your hands. "It's curiosity killed the cat." You stated confidently, waving your finger at the dragon. He let out a soundless chuckle and averted his gaze away from you. He still couldn't get over the fact that you weren't afraid of him.

"Whatever my Princess says, goes." Cain teased, eyes narrowing further - now they looked like two pitch black slits. He tuck one disobedient lock of gold behind his pointy ear, making the glass beads of his earring jingle in tone. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He whispered with slight condescension, toying with the dancing little crystals. "My name is Kaajin, if you must know. I doubt you can spell it. It's in Lohemian." He suddenly stared at you as if in a challenge. "Does this change anything? Anything at all."

You shook your head - of course no. There was little your protector could do to make your feelings change; not when you had been so terribly alone without him. Not when he looked at you as if you were precious - breakable, yet precious.

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The days went by slowly. There was nothing there to help pass the time - just your voice and his voice blending together in the echo of the tower. Again and again and again.

"Entertain me." You asked authoritatively, looking at your friend from down below while you were sitting on the ground. You were bored - so very bored. "I don't remember ever signing up to be your personal jester, my Princess." Cain, no, Kaajin replied succinctly, showing off two pointy fangs - and you couldn't help recalling the story of the Sleeping Beauty and the spindle that sent her into deep, eternal slubmer. You wondered how his teeth would feel against your finger - and your throat. Whether they'd tire you or save you with the kiss of true love.

"Please?" You asked sweetly, just the way he liked - just like you had done that cold winter day in December when you first met face to face. It seemed to work, because soon after that you could feel him move through the room with a tired step - ever so dramatic, closing in on you. "Sure." The dragon breathed in your ear, enjoying the way the flesh quickly reddened with emotion. He reached behind the sensitive shell and slowly waved his fingers just short of your nose. In his hand just milimeters from you was hanging a thin silver chain with a little red rose dangling down. "Here. Have fun." He let it slip past his slender fingers and you swiftly reached to catch it before it could break in thousand pieces.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" You asked, puzzled - still looking at the delicate bracelet and the way it seemed to come alive under direct sunlight. "I am not a child." You suddenly puffed, stuffing it into the pocket of your long skirts. Kaajin only clicked his tongue, gently tugging at your wrist until you took it out of your pocket. "Don't be so ungrateful." His strict yet plush voice took you out of your little outburst, and you finally looked up. His eyes were measuring you up, scanning for any hidden movement - any secret emotion. "I am a dragon, remember? We tend to be awfuly protective of our things."

Your eyes filled with curiosity once again. "You mean your jewels?" He nodded rhytmically, trying to keep his composure at the mention of his old, forgotten customs. "I've read some stories about dragon kings stealing piles of golden coins and locking them away for all eternity. "You chuckled to yourself. "Like they could ever use them." Even after all those years you still found the thought amusing. Humans spent their youth slaving away so they could waste the money gained once they were old and wise. Dragons, on the other hand, were satisfied with holding onto wealth and jewels and all those shiny human things - with little understanding of the subejctive value they held in the human world.

"Yes. It's true indeed. Dragons-" Your guard nodded yet again, now somewhat uneasy. "We take good care of our..." He averted his eyes far away from you. "treasures." He finished stiffly, gaze basically burning the ground. "So you shouldn't take my gift lightly. You should wear it with pride. And perhaps in time you'd find another use for it, too." The man explained, a slight blush spreading across his usually high, cold cheeks.

You smiled gingerly, kissing your fingers around the chain before pressing it to your chest - close to your heart.

"I shall cherish it forever, then." You exclaimed, feeling warm inside. You were uncertain as to why, but your stomach was spinning wildly, as if filled with bubbles. "But you still owe me some fun." You giggled, running to start the old phonograph in the corner of the room. It was your favourite thing in the whole world - which didn't mean a lot up here, but it was enough to make your legs move on their own.

As you danced to Vaarlen's famous spring waltz, the air seemed lighter and the cramped hall just slightly more grandiose. It was easier to breathe. You extended your hand towards your dragon, asking him to join.

"You know I don't dance, princess." He grunted, his mood souring. He never told you why he hated it so much, but the man was never too fond of music. Still, you decided to try again. "Oh, come on. Just this once." He didn't seem convinced. "Let me teach you as a thank you gift. I'm serious." You tapped your chest playfully. The man rolled his eyes, then gently took your hand in his. You almost broke into a giddy giggle - for the first time since your family locked you up in the rotten tower you felt happy.

And he always gave into you.

So you two danced, both lost to the music and your own racing thoughts. Kaajin kept his distance, but his hold was strong onto your wrist - unrelenting, like he never wanted to let go. Your body twisted and turned, perfectly synced to the chords, blind to the pass of time. You only realized it had become evening once your back hit the window - it was dark outside. Yet another day gone. Yet another day lost.

"Kaajin..." You could feel the tears burning at your wet lashes before you could stop yourself. You had promised yourself not to think about it anymore - not today, or ever for that matter, but it was impossible once you were faced with the Creator of All. The Master of everything, of everyone - time. How could you ever pretend otherwise?

"Do you think-" You bit the inside of your cheek, your hands fighting the guilt as you let go of his. "Do you think my father would ever let me go into the outside world?"

The guard gulped dry, taking a step back to give you space.

"I-" He took a deep breath, gaining the courage to look at you. "I don't know. The war is still going. Your kingdom has lost many brave men and women. Even the strongest soldiers are starting to capitulate." He couldn't bear to look at your pretty face all messed up by the pain and sorrow, but it was for the best.

"I understand." You muttered, turning your back to him - curling back into yourself. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you remained quiet - neither fighting it, nor embracing it. "Don't cry, my princess." The man whispered. "No matter what happens, I will always be by your side." He meant it. You knew it by now, and that only made it all the more tragic. "I swear on my life." You believed him, you had no reason not to - he was the only one you had left.

As for your father, he couldn't really give a proper order now, Kaajin thought. After all, dead men tell no tales.

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere dragon #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut

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asoftepiloguemylove · 1 year

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i think my body is falling in pieces i think my blood is passing me by

Micah Nemerever These Violent Delights / I.B. Vyache Excerpt 07.01.21 / Silas Denver Melvin excerpt from Grit: A Poetry Collection / Christa Wolf excerpt from Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays / Ethel Cain Family Tree (Intro) / unknown / Fiona Apple Left Alone / Richard Siken The Worm King's Lullaby / Gwen Benaway Holy Wild

i. Micah Nemerever, These Violent Nights

[ "I don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you. / We've found each other, out of everyone else in the world. Does that hurt, too?" ]

ii. I.B. Vyache, Excerpt 07.01.21

[ "It's time to forgive my hands for being hands. I'm going to hate myself a little less tomorrow. I'm going to hate myself a little less tomorrow." ]

iii. unknown

[ "have you shot a gun? is your blood authentic? is your blood authentic? is your blood authentic? can you prove it to me?" ]

iv. Christa Wolf, Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays

[ "You looked at me / (did you still see me?)" ]

v. Ethel Cain, Family Tree (Intro)

[ "The fate's already fucked me sideways / Swinging by my neck from the family tree / He'll laugh and say, 'You know I raised you better than this' / Then leave me hanging so they all can laugh at me" ]

vi. unknown

[ "I fight. I resist. It doesn't even matter what I resist; there is simply something in me that tends to resist things as they are. I have been fighting since I was very small." ]

vii. Fiona Apple, Left Alone

[ "[Chorus] / How can I ask anyone to love me / When all I do is beg to be left alone?" ]

viii. Richard Siken, The Worm King's Lullaby

[ "Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story." ]

ix. Gwen Benaway, Holy Wild

[ "I am tired of explaining the fire, / it burns because it must." ]

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thisiswhereikeepdcthings · 9 months

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What were each of the batkids' reactions to Bruce crying in front of them the first time? Because the first time I saw my mama crying it just broke my little 9-year-old heart

9-yr-old Dick Grayson: *look of judgment*

(24-yr-old Dick texts Clark and Alfred)

12-yr-old Jason Todd: *silently hands Bruce a cookie*

(21-yr-old Jason checks to see if he’s breaking out in hives)

13-yr-old Tim Drake: *pats Bruce awkwardly on the shoulder*

(17-yr-old Tim awkwardly pats his shoulder and hands him a cold case file)

16-yr-old Cassandra Cain: *pushes the panic button Babs gave her*

(19-yr-old Cass gives Bruce a hug and M&Ms that may or may not have been hiding in a pocket dimension for all her siblings have been able to track them down)

14-yr-old Stephanie Brown: *lights flares to get Robin’s attention*

(19-yr-old Steph takes a picture for her file and another for the Batkids group chat and then floods Bruce’s phone with memes and cat pictures)

10-yr-old Damian al Ghul Wayne: *looks around for the substance that must be causing this reaction*

(15-yr-old Damian immediately turns around and finds another place to be)

16-yr-old Duke Thomas: *asks Bruce if he’s okay*

(16-and-half-yr-old Duke finds the nearest sibling and pushes them towards Bruce for hugs)

16-yr-old Barbara Gordon: *stares with incomprehension*

(26-yr-old Babs either texts Dinah’s contact information to Bruce while looking him dead in the eye or sends the location of every Batchild and half of the Justice League for reassurance purposes)

#batkids #batman #bruce wayne #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #damian wayne #duke thomas #barbara gordon

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bet-on-me-13 · 10 months

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Symbiote Ellie Phantom AU

After she was saved from Destabilization, Ellie gained a nifty new power. She can Melt on command and move around freely, which is just a really fun power, even if she is a bit weaker when she uses it .

But one day, she gets really badly hurt. Like, Really Hurt. Let's say the GIW got a lucky shot and managed to capture her, and experimented on her for a week before she managed to escape.

She can't keep her Human Form stable anymore, but her Goop Form is good enough for now. All she needs to do is find an Ectoplasm Rich Environment and try to heal up the best she can. Hopefully Danny will find her after she misses her monthly Visit.

She ends up in Gotham while searching for a place to heal, but the GIW is hot on her tail.

She needs a place to hide, and the only way she can think of is to overshadow somebody and pretend to be them while the GIW passes her by.

So she jumps into the nearest person she can find, a girl close to her age jumping across Rooftops.

But since she was in her weaker Goop Form, she can't enter a person without their permission. So she slides up to the person in Goop Form, jumps on her Back, and telepathically asks her for help, begging for permission to hide in her for a bit.

The girl she tried to overshadow was Cassandra Cain.

After some begging, Cass agrees and Ellie sinks into her. Again, she can't fully Overshadow her, so she's basically a passenger until Cass decides to give her some control.

The GIW passes by them, and Ellie tries to leave Cass only to realize that she can't. Since Cass was exposed to the Lazarus Pits, she is has a weird Biology, and since Ellie already had a Wierd Biology being a Halfa Clone as a Pile of Goop, they somehow can't leave eachother.

Cass gets a new Roommate, but instead of sharing an apartment, its her body. It's honestly not that bad, Ellie can give her some of her old powers and she can still communicate by making a Goop Head come out of Cass's shoulder.

They get along really well too, Ellie can ways be there for Cass whenever she needs somebody to talk to, and Cass is the Supportive Older Sister who helps Ellie talk about her feelings.

The Bat Fam also doesn't know. They figure that this will probably be fixed soon enough, so there's no real reason to tell her Family. They do find out after a few weeks however.

Cass accidently uses Ellie's powers in front of one of her brothers, which causes them to tell Bat's which means the entire family knows by the end of the day.

Cass has to explain the situation and introduces her new little sister. "This is Ellie. She's a Meta who escapes a secret Government Organization and asked for my help to hide from them by hiding in my Body. Unfortunately, we can't split up because her powers reacted strangely to the Lazarus in my blood. She is now my sister. You are not going to make her leave, I will not let you."

It takes a while, but the Bat Fam ends up accepting her. They do end up looking into that "Secret Government Organization" though, and find that they have been experiencing Raids by an army of Ghosts for the last few weeks.

"Oh right, I missed my monthly visit to my brother." Says Ellie from Cass's shoulder. "He must be looking for me, no biggie."

It's definitely a Biggie.

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

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𝐌𝐮𝐥𝐞 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Other Joel Fics: Atta Girl [10.2K], PlayBoy [3K]

Summary: A betrayal causes both you and Joel to fight for your life.

Word Count: 5.1K!

CW: In order: Horror themes. Bodies. Gory imagery, fighting infected. Wearing Joel’s clothes. Fluffiest, softest, sappiest, most tooth rotting smut. Orgasm denial. Fingering. I have been a fan of the game for YEARS, given it is the first episode of TLOU TV I am basing most of Joel’s character off game Joel. Gif credit unknown.

Tease: “… You’re not wearin’ anythin’ under that, are you?” He whispers.

The static firework-like display of spores ejecting from the corpse slumped against the opposite wall had captured your attention despite the delicate situation you found yourself in. The tendrils of fungus creep up the walls, painting them with streaks of muted peaches and reds, not unlike human flesh. It bursts from the fruiting body as violently as a bomb going off. You suppose that’s what it is, a bomb detonating slowly, killing those that breathe in the cordyceps spores.

Your gas mask sits tight on your face, digging into the skin of your nose to effectively create an airtight seal to prevent the malignant disease from entering your lungs and turning you from the inside out. Even through the dirtied visor of your mask, you can see that the corpse has fused to the ground and wall it was once sat up against, calcifying to the brick and plaster. It’s reaching its final stages of the infection: complete takeover, encroaching upon any space it can find. You didn’t doubt that in 6 months it would fill the whole room.

Despite the crawling sensation that itches across your skin at the idea of fungus creeping from your body in the cover of darkness, you couldn’t deny the morbid beauty of the scene before you. It oddly reminds you of different breeds of coral, like the kind that clings to the Great Barrier Reef. There are tan-coloured, fan-like protrusions, long strands of crimson and tubal fungi that bust directly from the chest of the deceased. Silvery dust spores glisten under the beam of your flashlight, giving the abandoned house you had entered an almost glittery effect.

“Oi. C’mon.” Your smuggling partner's Texan typically cold baritone cuts through the uneasy hush in the room. “We stand in this shithole any longer and we’ll be ambushed.”

Peering up from the putrefied body, you find Joel Miller gazing back at you, jerking his head to the door in a silent order to urge you out of the rotten room. Stepping away from the body, you walk towards the exit.

“How much longer?” You ask, studying his weary expression. The two of you had been travelling for hours, on red alert for infected or human danger alike. Outside of the quarantine zone was a death trap, and Joel always insisted you both never get too comfortable. Always be cautious.

“Half an hour tops,” Joel rumbles, holding the door open as you step through. His hands smear it with blood as you walk by, the ghost of his fingerprints leaving ribbons of crimson against the surface.

The blood had belonged to a medicine dealer called Cain. Joel had been working for him, the two of you smuggling the precious supplies into the quarantine zones in return for ration cards and weapons. You and Joel must have made ten, hell, fifteen runs for this crooked fuck, only for Cain to send the two of you on a dodgy mission. You’d both been jumped by the middlemen who were meant to hand off the medicine- when under duress, they admitted to ‘just following orders’.

It hadn’t taken you both long to find Cain and took even less time to dispatch him. Joel had taken his time and, as always, you turned your back on the shrieks of agony as Joel delivered justice. Though he had been particularly brutal this time around, the crunching of bones and cartilage was loud enough to be heard over the dying screams.

Said cries of pain and the extended period of torture had drawn the attention of several Runners and Clickers. They’d overrun the smuggling tunnels somehow, obstructing your return to the quarantine zone and safety. It had been the fight of your life, and the two of you were damn near out of ammunition and energy to battle the waves of infected.

“You okay?” You croak, almost afraid to speak into the silence between the two of you as you stumble through the darkness, navigating using only the dying light of Joel’s torch. A small reprieve from the onslaught of runners.

“Yeah,” he grunts, his eyes drifting over in your direction. “Wanna get home. Think I hurt my ankle back there, fighting the clicker.” If it hurts enough to admit it, it must be bad. Yet Joel maintains a strong pace, refusing to allow the pain to slow him down. He was stubborn like that, the two of you always arguing about his thick-headed disposition.

You nod in silence, eyes on the floor and focusing on not tripping over loose bricks despite running this smuggling tunnel with Joel for years. It was probably so familiar that you could walk it blindfolded. The walls of this small passage had seen the slow and subtle changes in the dynamics of your relationship.

It had seen the beginnings of your partnership and witnessed you constantly vying for Joel’s approval to extend the coalition you had fought so hard to convince him for. The cracks in the walls had observed the slow-growing kinship between the two of you, jokes told and three-sentence conversations shared. The shards of glass swept into the corners of the floor had heard the difficulty you both had continuing those discussions after you had stupidly gotten drunk on this old whiskey Joel had found, kissing him in the early hours of the morning when he finally carried you to bed.

That was a few weeks ago, and he still hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact with you for more than a few seconds. Like a child unable to look into his mother's eyes when telling a lie.

Grabbing ahold of the cold handle of the metal door ahead of you, you force it down to open it. The door jams on the opposite side, not moving despite putting all of your weight behind it to the point the edges of the handgrip leave a rectangular imprint in your palm.

“Joel?” You call him, “Gonna need you to open this.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he responds, the same way he always has. He steps forward, the soles of his boots scuffing the floor as he approaches.

Joel shifts his shoulder against the flat of the door, hooking the handle downwards with his calloused, bloody palm and uses his strength to push against the blockage. The hinges of the door strain under the pressure, squealing in the silence as Joel grits his teeth.

He grunts loudly, heaving the door so the obstruction falls away from the entrance, clattering to the floor with a racket that ricochets off the wall. It echoes all the way down the corridor. You freeze, the deafening sound causing the hair on your forearms to stand on end.

The chill on your skin only intensifies with the blood-curdling groans that sound from the blackness.

“Fuck-“ you stammer, Joel’s hand quick to settle between your shoulder blades to push you forward through the open door. Adrenaline courses through you like a live wire, singeing your extremities and curdling your stomach as Joel forces his way through the door and pulls the pipe from his backpack.

Amongst the panic, you still manage to note that a metal storage unit that had once been set against the wall had been tipped on its side, forcing the door shut. Joel had used it just this morning to grab ammo before heading out for the medicine drop. Someone had forced it over- didn’t take a genius to figure out who.

“Gonna have to run,” Joel pushes you forward, causing your feet to stumble as you desperately grasp for your rudimentary shiv. It slices your fingers open as you grab for it in the darkness, terror pushing your body forward in a sprint. You can hear the thudding of Joel’s boots just behind you, and the screams and wails of the infected as you chase you down the tight corridors.

It feels as though seconds and hours pass simultaneously, your lungs burning as you suck in gasps of air through your gas mask. Your muscles are seizing, cramping up and your fingers sting with the cuts that you sustained from your blade. Over the all-encompassing sound of shrieking from the creatures and your sharp, shakey inhale, you can hear Joel urging you forwards. “Go Go Go! You got it darlin’ keep goi-“

It hits you like a runaway freight train at top speed. Thundering into you, a Clicker knocks you from your feet with an utterly horrifying scream. Pain shoots up your ribcage as you slam into the uneven floor, a discarded glass bottle shattering beneath your body and cutting into you. You’re scrabbling with the beast, its nails digging into your flesh as you stab blindly at its shoulder, your other palm on its sternum to hold it away from your throat while you scream for Joel.

“Joel, fuck!” You sob in fear, the clickers jaws gnashing at your exposed jugular, growling and snapping. In the pitch blackness, you can smell the damp, mouldy scent weeping from the fungus on its skin, the metallic, bloody twang of human meat on its tongue that wafts over your face as it heaves its breath onto you.

Your biceps scream under the strain of its weight as you feel the fungal growths on its face lightly brush at your throat as the creature goes in for the kill. Just as you feel its teeth skim your flesh, a sickening crunch sounds, and a hot splatter of viscous blood drenches your face as Joel removes the blade of the shiv he had plunged into its skull.

“Fuck, y’alright?” His gruff voice shouts over the din the approaching runners make from down the hall. He doesn’t really give you the chance to answer him, grabbing ahold of your hand and wrenching you out from underneath the limp body of the Clicker before pulling you along in a sprint.

You sob with relief as you both turn the corner to the exit. Joel wastes no time, running ahead to force the door open so it’s ready when you approach. It swings open so easily as if it senses your desperation, and you launch yourself into the safety of the building that serves as an entrance to the tunnel. Joel isn’t far behind, slamming the door shut on the hoard and bolting it shut with a thick wooden plank that you’d both been using as a stopper.

The room swims, the image of the door swirling in your vision as you lean your back against the wall, taking deep, heaving breaths in what both was an attempt to feed oxygen back to your lungs and also to alert your body to the fact you were alive.

You barely have a moment to thank God when Joel is on you in an instant.

“Good Christ,” he heaves his gas mask off his face, blood-soaked palms taking ahold of your chin as his deep, earthy irises flit over you, searching for damage with a panicked expression. You note it’s the longest he’s looked at you in weeks. “Sure you’re okay? Jesus fuck, I thought-“

He’s twisting your head from side to side, checking your throat for bites. The infected are pounding on the secured metal door, but the noise is drowned out, faded as you watch Joel tend to you. You like him this close, you can see the freckles under his eyes. You’re not sure whether it’s the adrenaline of survival or if there was a crack in your mask and the spores had driven you crazy, but you are almost certain that Andromeda lies somewhere within the constellation of the minute spots of melanin.

“Joel,” you whisper, breathless for a whole other reason than the fact you just fought for your life, “Joel, I’m okay.”

You watch your partner hesitate for a moment, checking over you one last time before setting his lips in a firm line, his panicked eyes growing protective in an instant. “Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that again. Y’hear?”

Cross-legged in Joel’s bathtub, hours after escaping the tunnels, you use rainwater and a sponge to scrub the Clicker blood from your skin. Even now, years after the outbreak, you found yourself silently pining to the walls in the bathroom for hot, running water. They were no genie, and never responded to your wishes, but your wordless complaints often made you feel better as you scrubbed cold water over your body.

The droplets are tinted maroon as they run down your legs, seeping down the drain beneath you as you meticulously work each disgusting patch of blood from your skin. Despite telling Joel that the Clicker hadn’t bitten you, it still came as a palpable relief to scrub away the grime and not see a single mark in the crescent shape of teeth anywhere.

You did, however, have some brutal cuts across your ribs from falling into the glass bottle in the tunnel. They’re like lightning slashes, open and sore as you run a fresh washcloth over the wounds. At the very least, they were superficial and didn’t need stitches. The last thing you needed was to be burdensome right now.

Stepping out of the bath, you wrap yourself in a towel, scrubbing at your face with your sore hands. At least the slices on your fingers from your blade had stopped weeping blood. You’re sore, and mildly damaged, but otherwise alive. Alive. The proof is in the reflection that stares back at you when you glance in the bathroom mirror. Though- you certainly look as though you had just stared death in the face.

You open the door of the bathroom slowly, tentatively stepping into Joel’s bedroom. He’s sitting on the bed, slowly easing his boot from his sore ankle with a hiss of complaint. It does look painful, swelling until the definition in the bone was encroached upon by inflammation, and you have no doubt it’s been throbbing with pain inside his boot the entire journey back home.

“I think you’ll need to take a break for a while,” you gently urge Joel from your place in the doorway, who nods simply in return. Yes, he was stubborn, sometimes downright pigheaded, but he would never be stupid enough to go outside hindered by an injury. There were more than enough ration cards to tide you both over until Joel was fit enough to do another run safely.

“You can- uh, grab some’a my clothes from my closet, if you need,” he rumbles, moving to untie the boot on his other foot and avoiding your gaze. “Don’t want you to have’ta put your clothes back on. They’re covered in clicker brains.”

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper, despite the shiver of disgust that runs down your spine. Slowly padding your bare feet across his wooden floor, you approach his closet. All of the shirts and flannels he owns are thread-bare, soft to the touch from wear. You grasp at a grey and black flannel, dropping the towel to the floor as you pull the comfortable clothing over your head.

Joel is silent, his back turned to you as you dress. Perhaps it’s from years of knowing him, or it’s seeing how tight the muscles of his back are through the fabric of his shirt, but you know something is amiss. The discontent rolls off him in waves.

Wordlessly, you climb onto the mattress, approaching Joel from behind. He seems to tense up further, even if momentarily before his muscles ease again. You stay seated firmly behind him, just outside of his peripheral vision as you attempt to breach the topic of conversation in a way that the stubborn mule of a man won’t shut down.

“Is it the pain?” You ask delicately, voice soft as a feather as you watch him feel his swollen ankle with the tips of his fingers.

“No. No, it ain’t, I just-“ he exhales sharply, as though he’s urging the words from his mouth, expelling them from his lungs. “No I just really thought that I’d lost you for a minute there, ‘n’ I just…” He trails off, leaving the unspoken words to admit what he couldn’t.

That he couldn’t bear to lose you.

You nod slowly, despite knowing he can’t see you, as the realisation sets in. He cares about you more than he shows, more than he lets on.

Softly, you lay your palm against his back, between his shoulder blades. In the low light of the bedroom, Joel’s silver hairs gleam as he turns his head around to look at you. You feel his nerves before you see them, feel the shaky exhale he lets out against your hand.

“I’m still here,” you whisper to him, capturing his gaze as you attempt to bring him down from the fear that must have seized him. You drag your palm down his back slowly, and in turn, he leans his body towards you at an achingly slow pace. Your stomach is doing somersaults thanks to the way he gazes at you, watching the nervous trail of your tongue over your lower lip.

“I know,” he answers back, his gruff voice so much softer sounding in this fragile moment. He inches towards you, and you can see the fine creases in the edges of his eyes, the constellations of his freckles even in the limited lighting. “I know I just-… Wanna feel it.”

It’s almost as though there’s a static moment, fizzling in the air as the tip of his nose brushes yours. He parts his lips softly, ghosting them over your own in a touch CW that’s barely there but sets your blood ablaze. His breath, exhaled through his nose, tickles your red-hot cheeks and you grip onto his t-shirt until your knuckles turn white. You wait for the plunge, for the powder keg of your heart lodged between your ribs to burst with his kiss.

Cautiously, Joel touches his lips to yours in a kiss that sparks up your spine. His lips are slightly chapped, his moustache and beard scraping gently against your skin as you lean into the kiss, letting out a soft moan of relief.

Your fingertips are tingling as you brush them up Joel’s neck, cupping his face to hold him there. He’s so gentle with you, like he’s afraid you’ll turn to dust in his hands. Joel has lived the past 20 years surviving, trying so desperately to stay alive. You’re not sure what that meant for him- the horrid things he had to do- but in this moment he’s so delicate with you, his knuckles brushing across your jaw as if those same fingers hadn’t squeezed triggers for two decades.

Working your own fingers into his curls, you feel the vibrations of Joel’s moans against your lips. It isn’t overtly sexual, it’s as though it’s a sound of comfort- of appreciation for being shown some tenderness. He responds to your touches by tracing his tongue over your lower lip, deepening the kiss and pulling you closer.

“Joel,” you whisper against his open mouth. He’s panting softly, hands moving to your hips to hold you in place like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. “Joel, lay back.”

“… Yes Ma’am,” he murmurs, a hint of a smile spreading against your lips. You find yourself relieved he didn’t argue, finding this nerve-wracking enough. It’s as though the two of you are inexperienced teenagers, fumbling with each other and fighting the butterflies in your guts. As brutal as the world you both fought to survive in was, there’s an innocence settling between you, nervous laughs shared as Joel lays back slowly against the pillows.

He gazes back at you as the crown of his head settles, holding his breath as he awaits your next move. Swallowing thickly, you watch Joel’s hand slowly reach for your knee. He swirls his thumb in uneven circles over your patella, gently coaxing you out of your shell. “You good, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” You whisper breathlessly, the soft and innocent touch leaving tingles in its wake. “Yeah ‘m fine.”

Joel, the hardened bastard that he is, doesn’t give much away. However, you see the edge of his lips lilt upwards at your less-than-convincing answer sliding his palm up the bare skin of your thighs. His hands are warm, calloused from hauling ass across the country and slicing open Clicker throats to protect you.

Swallowing thickly, you loop your thigh over his hip to straddle his waist. He watches you, his dark lashes dipping low as he witnesses you seat yourself across his abdomen. As you sit, the leather of Joel’s belt bites into the soft skin of your flesh.

“… You’re not wearin’ anythin’ under that, are you?” He whispers. It’s less of a question than it is a statement, those dark, mahogany eyes gazing up at you with a knowing expression. It’s intimidating, and you find yourself unable to answer with anything other than a slow shake of your head.

Joel responds with a low chuckle, tutting slightly as he brushes his palms further up your legs. They disappear under the worn fabric of his flannel, settling against your hip bones as his fingertips brush the curve of your bare ass.

Ever the gentleman, Joel stills his movements there and awaits your next orders, his eyelids heavy. You let a shaky breath escape your lips despite trying so hard to appear cool and collected, and you can practically feel the amusement emanating from the man beneath you.

Taking control, you trace the hem of Joel’s shirt and ease your fingers beneath it. Again, he’s warm to the touch, a human bonfire. It reminds you of the same level of comfort, the heat of the flames licking the skin of your cheeks in the cold autumnal air and providing relief from the numbing chill.

You don’t rush this, dragging the shirt from his body achingly slowly. Scars litter Joel’s skin, silver against the melanin. Sometimes large, wide and brutal across his ribs, others small and circular, barely noticeable. You notice them. You love them all.

Joel lifts his arms for you to raise the fabric over his head, and you reward him by pressing gentle kisses to the exposed skin of his neck. He hums softly at the gentle touches of your lips, his fingertips squeezing into the soft flesh of your hips. You’re almost certain he can feel the way you’re smiling.

“Mhm, Darlin’” he grumbles softly, using his hold on you to slowly grind your hips down over the soft flesh of his stomach, angled perfectly. It causes you both to stutter to a halt, your own pause caused by the spark of arousal that blooms through your abdomen at the friction to your clit.

Joel slowly uses one of his hands to grab the back of his flannel that you wear, sitting you up. His irises are inky black as he looks up at you, startling you into submission. Stoic, he says nothing, but looks pointedly down at his stomach to divert your attention. Uncertain, you follow his gaze.

It’s utterly mortifying. Across the tanned, freckled skin of his stomach is a silvery-pink scar. Following the same direction, a wet steak of your slick traces where Joel had pushed your hips down onto him. Shock and humiliation flood you all at once.

“Oh my God, Jo-! I’m so sorry-,” you stammer quickly, but Joel is grabbing ahold of the collar of his flannel with both hands, using very little of his impressive strength to pop the buttons on the stupid thing. The buttons go flying, rattling as they roll across the wooden floor and banging as they ping off the wardrobe. He exposes your breasts to his eyes, drinking in the view like he does whenever he sees a beautiful sunset while smuggling across the state. He stops and stares and takes it all in, just like he does with you.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about,” he insists, not allowing you to feel embarrassed a moment longer as he uses his grip once again to push your hips against him. Perhaps it’s the shock of his unfiltered satisfaction, or the arousal he draws from you once again, but you don’t find yourself fighting with him. Instead, you lean your head back as he directs your body exactly where he wants it, pushing your cunt against him and drawing delicious swirls of pleasure throughout your abdomen.

“That’s it Darlin’. Just relax,” he murmurs, clearly pleased as you begin to match his movements by rolling your hips along with his touch. Your palms rest against his muscular pectorals, nails digging in whenever he catches your clit just right. Sometimes he hisses in pain, sometimes he groans in delight.

The muscles of your thighs clench against his waist as the walls of your cunt flutter around nothing. Your jaw is slack, your mouth falling open as you crease your brows together and feel the surge.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel curse, the gravel of his voice tipping you ever closer, “I can feel your pulse.” He sounds incredulous.

“D-Don’t-“ you gasp, teetering on the edge of an utterly devastating orgasm. Your eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on that feeling that barely holds the seams of your soul together when he shocks you completely, using his strength to lift your hips from him just as your release bubbles up.

A sound of utter anguish reaches your ears, and it takes a moment for the pulse of your heart in your ears to subside before you realise it came from you. Joel is chuckling, kissing your trembling hands in an uncharacteristically soft move. Though- you suppose all of this is out of character.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chastises you gently, in an almost mocking tone. He’s enjoying seeing you fall to pieces for him, even if it is just because you look so pretty over him. “I want you to look at me. Want to see it in your eyes when you cum.”

“Joel,” you wail, in utter disbelief as he shakes his head at your complaint. He’s not listening. Instead, he draws tight circles on the inside of your thigh. His touch is wet, your slick drenching the inside of your legs and showing how desperate you are if your impassioned whining wasn’t enough to convince him of your need to come undone.

“Listen here, Darlin,” he orders in that same tone he uses when on supply runs, the kind that makes you warm and fuzzy, “I ain’t gonna ask you to do nothin’ for me. Want you to feel good. The least you can give me is that pretty face.”

You swallow again, like you’re parched and only he can quench your desperation. Silently, in bitter defeat, you resign to a nod.

“Yeah?” He urges, wanting to hear you say it.

“Yeah,” you choke out.

“Good girl.”

Again, you moan out like you’re in pain, Joel rewarding your vulnerability by slowly slipping two fingers into your drenched cunt. You’re so worked up, so slick he doesn’t need to open you up. Your cunt takes the intrusion of his digits greedily, and your thighs begin to shake at the intense relief it grants you.

Agonisingly slowly, Joel eases his fingers out of you before plunging them back in. He doesn’t need to go fast, the drawn-out drags of his fingertips against the walls of your cunt enough to work up your arousal, but you know that he’s setting this pace to watch the micro-expressions on your face.

Your brows pinch together, and your lips form subtle shapes that indicate his technique is working. He’s watching your pupils dilate, your nostrils flare as you inhale sharply when he touches that spot inside you that makes your vision go fuzzy.

“Joel,” you wheeze, the dexterity of his fingers driving you very quickly to the precipice of something soul-shattering. The pads of his finger focus on that spot that makes your body tremble, and you’re sobbing above him, tears streaking your face. “Oh God, Joel, I can’t last-“

“It’s okay,” he urges you, so calm that he almost appears lazy as he curls his fingers inside you. “You know what to do.”

The bastard hurls you over the edge of the cliff he’s built for you, pushing the pad of his thumb against your clit. The most intense burst of pleasure explodes beneath your skin, streaming through your blood vessels as your body crumbles inwards. You’re not sure if he’s even circling your clit, if he’s moving his fingers because it’s so visceral that you can’t see, can’t hear, don’t experience anything other than the liquid heat that drips through you.

When you come to, Joel is humming softly, stroking his palm over the back of your head and easing you down from the clouds he sent you to with a gentle touch. You’re lying across his chest, his arms seemingly having pulled you against him during your blinding relief. You’re sticky with sweat, as though you’re coated in honey.

Joel smells like the apocalypse. Like earth and mud that has been wet with rain. The sharp smell of gunpowder clings to his skin, having coated the shirt he wore only minutes before. There’s the musk of his sweat, the tang that sticks to his skin despite the rain that you had walked home in after leaving the tunnels. It had washed away the smell of the blood and the grime but left every part of Joel.

“Oh fuck,” you choke out, and Joel can’t help but chuckle at the way you sound so fucked out. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple as he soothes your aching muscles from their contractions.

The rise and fall of his chest ease you down from your heightened state of shock, and your partner slowly peels the destroyed flannel from your skin. The thin bed sheets float across your body to give you some privacy, Joel wanting you to feel comfortable and respected despite him utterly destroying you literally moments before.

“That good, mhmm?” It’s said with Joel’s typically flat intonation, but you know he’s amused.

“Shut up Joel,” you whisper, still breathless. God, had he just stolen the air from your lungs? It’s as though every functioning part of your body has stalled, taken up entirely with bliss.

“Hell, you’re stubborn,” he mumbles, and it’s like he puts a spark up your ass, body jolting into action.

“Excuse me?! I’m stubborn-?!”

END

🏷️ Taglist: @hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @astroboots @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @ofmortems @hold-our-destiny @xcatnapsx @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @moonnaught @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina

#Joel miller #joel miller x reader #Joel x reader #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel the last of us #the last of us #TLOU #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #1k+ club

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gremliinsart · 4 months

Text

There's something I've been thinking about Carnival Bubble...

I think Bubble sorta knows they're an ai in a video game. They kinda have to... it's their job.

But unlike the others, they've embraced it. Why? Because they have Caine, of course!

How wonderful it must be to know that you were literally made/designed to be someone's friend...

Welcomed into this world...loved for just being you...

What a wonderful existence that must be.

AU belongs to @sm-baby

#art #digital art #gremlins art #the amazing digital carnival au #idk I just think it's a very sweet idea #it's like when you adopt a pet and you look into their eyes for the first time #I imagine it was a very emotional moment for Caine #especially considering that Bubble holds all his memories #he knows they'll do their best to keep them safe 💖#anywhoo there's a simple drawing for you until I get my motivation back #mwa 💖#edit: SORRY I FORGOR TO @ YOU BESTIE #took me like a whole day to realize too NDHSJHSKA #oups

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flamingpudding · 7 months

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 10 - "It's alright, I'm here now."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight mention / implications of experimentation

A/N: I might have gotten a bit carried away with this... I also might take a little inspirational break tomorrow.

Damian should have known better, he knew his mother and he knew his grandfather. He should have known, especially after having met Respawn. Could his mothers behavior maybe clued him in sooner? But nothing had seemed any different lately, maybe that was what should have tipped him off. Yet if it hadn't been for Drake's paranoia, after another incident with his grandfather, Damian knew he probably wouldn't have found out anytime soon, either.

He ran through the halls of the League of Assassins facilities, knowing this place probably better than his siblings that were keeping his grandfather's men busy. He could hear them over the coms, he could also hear his father confronting his mother. They were in a different location to cover more ground. Richard and Todd were with him in this location while Drake and Cain had gone with their father. Brown and Thomas were back in Gotham awaiting hopefully good news.

Damian rounded a corner, dodging another of his grandfather's men. He did not wait or turn to pin the man down. Trusting his siblings to take care of this, and a second later, gunshots echoed behind him.

There were various options of where the child, his newly created younger brother, could be. But considering how his grandfather had changed, Damian took another turn leading to the underground area. As much as there was a likelihood that the child was created to replace him, he was sure that grandfather was raising the boy differently also, as he was now considered a failure since he had left.

When he reached the underground area he slowed down, blade drawn and surveying the area. It was surprisingly empty, something Damian did not trust. Carefully he walked along the hall until the distant sound of sniveling made him pause.

"I think I found him." Damian relayed through the coms.

"Gotcha we will catch up with you brat." Todd answered and Richard agreed a second later, spouting some 'mushy' nonsense in addition.

"We will finish up here then and prepare for the pick up!" Drake on the other hand informed, despite the fact that Damian could still hear their fathers end of what appeared to be a heavy argument with his mother through the coms.

Carefully he made his way over to a heavy looking metal door. Locked. Damian clicked his tongue. It took a bit of lockpicking but soon enough he heard the soft click of the lock and he slowly pushed the door open.

"Of course grandfather would have an underground lab." He eyed the room and the equipment stored in it. Different machines with different functions were lined all along the walls. He could see villes, tubes, containers and pinchers of Lazarus Water. But what really caught his eye was the huge tank in the back of the room. The tank was nearly empty except for a four inch high puddle of Lazarus Water and a barely clothed, blue eyed child sitting in it.

The child was indeed the source of the sniffling Damian had heard early as he now saw the boy looking at him wide eyed and rubbing at his eyes furiously like he did not want to be seen crying.

"W-who are you?" The child asked, voice cracking from obvious disuse. How bad were they treating this boy? "You look weird."

Damian knew his eyes were softening just a tiny bit at the child's question. They hadn't trained out the child's natural honesty yet. There was still a chance for this boy to grow up with more normalcy than he ever did.

"You can call me Robin." He answered the child as he stepped closer, noting how tiny the boy appeared to be, unintentionally clicking his tongue. Something must have been wrong with the documents Drake found. The papers spoke of a boy at the age of six. But this boy was tiny, clearly younger than that. Or perhaps they hadn't had the chance for the forced aging process?

"Are you a fruitloop?" The boy inched to the back of the tank away from Damian and he barely refrained from clicking his tongue at that motion.

"I am human, not a type of cereal." Damian shot back at the kid inspecting the tank and how to best open it to get the child out.

"Well duh. But you could still be a fruitloop." Richard would have a great time talking to this child, Damian briefly thought as he knocked against the glass of the tank, trying to judge from what kind of glass it was made and if a Batarang was enough to break it.

The child watched him, there were still some tears in the corner of the boy's eyes but there was also curiosity. "You really are getting me out of here?"

Damian absentmindedly nodded as he reached back with the batarang in hand. "Keep were you are, I am going to bre-"

"No, it's fine!" The child suddenly hopped up, splashing the puddle of Lazarus water against the glass as he clumsily stumbled forward, pressing his hands against the glass from the inside. Damian stopped mid movement, watching how the child's tongue stuck out in concentration as the boy continued to press his body against the glass.

For a moment, Damian was wondering what the child was doing until the boy's hand suddenly went through the glass, falling forward. Damian hurried to catch the boy as he literally fell through the glass.

"What did you do?" He asked once he had the boy, his new baby brother, securely in his arms. The boy giggled, swinging his legs a little in the air.

"I got powers!" It didn't make sense to Damian, neither his mother nor father had a meta gene but there was the possibility of his grandfather mixing in other DNA or possibly, he looked around the lab, no he didn't want to imagine this.

"I see." Was his only answer to the boy for now, he turned to his com. He balanced the boy in his arm while placing a couple of devices in the room in preparation. "The child is safely retrieved. Prepare for pick up."

The boy's eyes widened as Damian made his way out of the underground part. Richard and Todd were waiting at the entrance of the stairs for him. The weight of the boy in his arms and the feeling of his small hands clinging to his uniform, it slowly caused the realization that Damian indeed had a blood related little brother now. Not a clone, but a little brother. Sure he had been created through an artificial womb but the boy was not a clone.

"ETA 5 Sending the pick up location." Drake spoke over the coms.

He was close to the stairs when he noticed the boy pressing his face into his shoulder, shaking slightly. It caused Damian to slow down and inspect the child. Did he overlook an injury?

"You… are you really taking me out of here? It's not a trick from the fruitloop to make me trust him? You are taking me away?"

The words made Damian stop right by the foot of the stairs. Richard and Tood were right at the top, waiting for him. He could go up and let Richard carry the child and do the comforting. His brother was better at this than he was. But for some reason, Damian didn't want to do that. He sent one look up the stairs before putting his focus on the child.

"Do not worry." Carefully, while still holding the boy securely Damian made the boy look at him, wiping the beginning of tears away from watery blue eyes. Whatever his grandfather had done to this child, Damian as well as the rest of his family will not let it happen any longer, especially now that they know of his existence. "It's alright, I am here now."

Saying this sounded very 'cheesy', as his oldest brother would put it, in his ears but the small hopeful shine in the boy's eyes was worth it. "As long as I am here, grandfather will no longer lay a hand on you, nor put you through anything you do not want. I am sure father and the rest of our family will agree."

And didn't Damian know it? Because despite all the conflict and contempt that sometimes existed among them, it was still a fact that his family was protective, it was not a if but a certainty that if anyone harmed his baby brother then he was surely not the only one burning down a building or two.

It rang especially true that once they got picked up, instead of letting one of his siblings hold their new brother he tossed them a controller with a certain gleam in his eyes and watched them fight over who got to trigger the explosive he had placed underground before they were out of reach. All while their baby brother was snuggling into his arms and purring like a cat. Damian smirked at his older siblings, it appeared that his baby brother already had a favorite. Not like his siblings would have been a competition in the first place.

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laweonakenny · 5 months

Note

Why specifically do you ship Kinger with Caine?

like... not wanting to offend your romantic taste (I don't know what that's called)

But Kinger and Caine barely speak to each other in the pilot or in any other official media

My time has come... Hehehe 💕✨️

Well, I must admit that it is true that both characters had a few interactions (being precisely only one), but the reason why I love this ship so much is because Kinger, having been in the digital circus for so long, can be reached to think that he and Caine have known each other for quite some time. It may sound like nothing, but the fact that Kinger didn't abstract makes me think that there might be a reason why that didn't happen to him, maybe it's just luck, but sometimes I think that maybe Caine gives his greatest effort to ensure that this does not happen to Kinger...

Thinking that the two of them have been together for so many years makes me imagine that there is some kind of connection between them. That maybe it started when Queenie get abstracted, probably Caine saw Kinger's pain and that made him experience guilt and empathy for him, something that Caine had never felt for someone in the past... This made Caine start to get closer to Kinger, because he was worried about him and the situation he was going through... Thus beginning a kind of friendship that turned into romance, and which became stronger as time went by... Or maybe none of that happened, but thinking about it makes me love the ship more and more.

Yes, very long answer, but when they ask me about my ships I can't stay silent 💞

#royalteeth #the amazing digital circus #caine x kinger #tadc caine #tadc kinger #kingleader #kinger x caine

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loving-family-poll · 4 months

Text

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Propaganda under the cut:

Liam/Noel:

The incest rumours used to be common for good reason <3

those two have kissed and groped each other too many times

They are really weird about each other, they have kissed a few times, made incest jokes many times, wrote songs about each other (I could be your lover/you could be all mine) and had a break up so messy they haven't been on speaking terms for +10 years

The song that goes like "I'm your brother/ you're my lover" there are many such cases

"Liam's gotten all religious. It's quite disturbing. He thinks he's Abel for some weird reason. He wrote a new song called "Guess God Thinks I'm Abel." And I thought, "Right, so you think you're Abel. That must make me Cain. Doesn't Cain kill Abel?" But then the first line of that song is "You could be my lover." I'm not too sure about that. That's illegal, innit? It's kind of illegal for two brothers to make love. It's certainly frowned upon."

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

#liam/noel gallagher #gallaghercest #oasis #samdean #wincest #spn #supernatural #tw incest #round 2 #tumblr polls #tournament polls #incest poll

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tadc-ragatha · 6 months

Note

I saw your requests open and I am in dire need to ask: Could you do some headcanons of Caine with a shy child reader?

I absolutely love your writing and saw a few others with stuff like that and I just need to word vomit how adorable of a situation that’d be. I feel like Caine would be ECSTATIC to have a child playing the game! It’s literally perfect for kids! He’d be over the moon about showing them around and chattering nonstop, only to find they’re…gone?!? Turns out, the situation is very overstimulating and adding a terrifying and loud ringmaster to the mix doesn’t really help. Queue the confused yet frantic search for the hiding newcomer, and Caine’s bafflement on how to handle the situation after. Just this over-excitable AI trying to connect with this little shy bundle .u.

Caine with a Shy Child Reader

TW: Crying

Type: Headcanons

A/N: The reader is about 9 years old. Obviously platonic only. Spoilers. You specified headcanons so I did that, but I also have a fic in the works that goes more in-depth. Thank you for the compliment!

Caine

Caine is, as you said, ecstatic to have a new, younger member of the circus. The youngest he's gotten before that is Jax, who was born in the first half of the year and was aged twenty-two. So, getting a member as young as nine in was quite the surprise.

And compared to the now second most recent member, Pomni, it seemed you had a much better transition. You didn't say much--or anything, really--and although it made some of his jokes flop (why didn't you respond?), he took it in stride.

After giving you a tour of the world of the digital circus, he dropped you off back inside to announce the day's activity. Turns out, you would be playing a fun game of hide and seek, with you being the seeker. But as Caine went to point to you, he found you gone. Very strange, considering before that you mostly stood there quietly shaking.

Caine, however, didn't quite understand what was going on. Gooseworx confirmed he's just clueless to how humans work, and so he assumed you must have just been very excited to get started. Because you got a head start, Caine decided to send everyone to look for you.

Gangle was the one to find you. You were hiding behind a set of curtains backstage somewhere crying. She had a lot of empathy for you in that moment, and although she's not very good at comforting people, she tried to make you feel better by resting a hand (or ribbon) on your shoulder.

However, the comfort was short-lived, as soon the rest of the group caught up to you. Everything got overwhelming again, and you started to cry. Gangle gave up on trying to comfort you as Ragatha took over. She was much better at the job, and managed to get you to tell her what was wrong.

You explained you were scared of being in the circus. Understandable for everyone. But you also explained being scared of Caine. You said having a loud set of teeth talking to you was overstimulating (or, in your words, "made you feel bad"). The others had known your silence wasn't one of comfort, and quickly understood Caine was clueless to this, too.

Once they told Caine, he was confused. But he wasn't harsh about it per se. He was disappointed you didn't like his game or self-described fun personality, but he tried to be nice about it. But don't get me wrong; the show is about the characters facing their traumas, so you'll definitely unfortunately have to deal with many more unpleasant-at-best moments.

#amy's writing #anonymous #the amazing digital circus #tadc #the amazing digital circus spoilers #tadc spoilers #tadc x reader #tadc caine #tadc caine x reader #x reader #child reader #tadc headcanon

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impishjesters · 6 months

Text

Jax-in-a-box Part 2

warning(s): suggestive/implied sexual content/language, potential out-of-character Jax (look you're just so big and it's distracting okay... let him be distracted and have thoughts), bratty(?) Jax note(s): I swear this wasn't intending to go down this route of horny rabbit man, but I was feeling some dom/sub vibe and it just happened I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm like this. A/N: I wanted Jax to feel teeny so the reader is at least 9 ft/274 cm minimum. Man, Pomni must look like a step stool next to the reader... Also, this would take place at some point in the dating stage. Also, this is the same original requester of the Jack in the box reader, thank you for requesting more this was really fun to write~ request: I’m just requesting a little story if your up to continuing that request. So what l’m thinking is just a little scenario of the reader completely coming out of their box for the first time (well the first time they were caught) Mabye the scenario has Jax coming into reader’s room unexpectedly and seeing reader chilling outside their box? Though of course you can do/write anything you’d like for this. I’d like it if you made the reader even taller, since they are actually standing this time instead of being in their box.

While being inside your box brought a level of comfort your bedroom couldn’t provide, that didn’t mean you didn’t use it. No, the privacy of your bedroom was used to stretch your legs—something the others, specifically Jax, hadn’t known about. Not that it was a secret, you just loved seeing it wrack his brain as to what lay beneath.

The box sat abandoned, lid wide open as you lay in the provided bed just a few feet too small for you. It’s not like Caine had expected someone as tall as you after all, you aren’t even sure if Caine is aware you can even exit the box, but you made do and got yourself nice and comfy to relax.

You plucked up an interesting-looking book earlier from Caine’s weird collection of provided reading material. Nothing risque sadly, but you can’t help but feel like Caine has never even read any of these and merely plucked them from whatever and just willed them into existence.

The next hour easily passed, nose buried into the book, so much so that you didn’t even hear the jingling of your locked door being forced open. Hell, you didn’t even notice until he said something.

The first thing Jax saw was your box, empty, his eyes shifting to the bed to see long legs dangling off the bed before he realized who it was. Well, of course, it was you, it was your room and it was locked.

“You have fucking legs?!”

You snorted and finally looked up from the book, Jax looked completely flabbergasted, and fuck, if only you had a camera. “Just normal legs, but they could do that too.”

Jax didn’t even have it in him to retort to that little comment, no he was far too focused on the fact you had fucking legs. He’d been entirely convinced that you didn’t have anything below the waist, it’s like that box had this weird black fog that looked like a void you were just coming out of. There are so many questions he wants to ask…

How the fuck do you fit in the box with legs that long? Do you sit with your legs crossed or on your knees? Do they just vanish into that weird black void? Have you been just weirdly seat-jumping around this whole time?

He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t even process that you moved to sit at the edge of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. It’s not until you clear your throat that he realizes how close he’s gotten and wow, you’re just sitting and you’re able to look him straight in the eye. Is this awakening something in him? God, he hopes not.

“What can I do for you, my little cotton tail?”

You loved the dumb little pet name, he claimed to hate it and it stuck. If he was gonna call you all sorts of dumb pet names he was going to get at least one of his own.

Jax cringed at the name and rubbed his face as if that would get rid of the growing blush. “Stop it with the name would ya?”

“Then stop calling me Jack.”

He waved his hand before snorting out a “Nah”.

“Fine, at least stop calling me Boxxie.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s cute.”

It was your turn to cringe, he only called you that because he was convinced you were a box when you first showed up. A sentient box, how fun. “Was there a reason you came lock-picking into my room?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, I’m not a heathen to stoop so low as to lock pick.” he held up one of the many keys in his possession. “I used a key.”

A chuckle left you, accompanied by an eye roll. “Yeah okay, that I didn’t say you could have but it’s you so I’ll let it slip. Now spill cotton tail.”

Jax’s face scrunched up at the name again before moving closer, forcing your ankles to unlock so he could stand between your legs. “I wanted to see if you’d give me the honors of helping in a little mischief. But after seeing your legs I’m not sure if I wanna go cause mischief or stay and admire them in their spread-out glory.”

“The only legs getting spread are yours, cotton tail.” Reaching out you placed a hand on his hip, your fingers easily wrapping around him, your thumb meeting your middle finger on his other hip. “Who do you want to bully now? It better not be Pomni again, that poor girl doesn’t need another scare so soon.”

He swallowed hard, eyes glued to his waist and the way your hand just completely wrapped around him. You’ve done it before but in a setting like this, it just hit differently. “It’s not bullying, she’ll be fiiine.”

Jax cleared his throat and used the arm closest to him as his own armrest, you easily supported his weight as he crossed one foot over the other. He was trying hard to play this whole situation off, he was supposed to be in charge and you’ve gone and taken the upper hand without even trying. “So uh, h-how tall are you now? Ya know, without the box.”

That was a good question.

You gestured for Jax to step back and he did so hesitantly before you pulled yourself up, grumbling at the way your knees hurt from getting off the already low-ass bed. Truly a downside to being taller than the furniture here, something you didn’t experience until you started taking breaks outside the box.

Jax let out a string of unintelligible words as you stood to your full height. He knew you were big before but you were a lot taller than he thought you’d be, god his neck already hurt. Is this how Pomni felt standing next to him? God, you could just, break him…

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You tried not to look so smug, but god damn if it wasn’t satisfying to see such a thirsty yet bewildered expression on the usually smug rabbit’s face. Truthfully you weren’t too sure just how tiny Jax would be at your full height, he’d already seemed small before but now you could just toss him like a Javelin spear.

“I take that back, sit your ass down.”

“Make me.” You crossed your arms with a grin and simply watched him curiously.

“Don’t think I won’t climb your raggedy ass and—”

“And what cotton tail?” He flinched when you bent down to get in his face. “Can’t knock me down if you climb me, not that you could on the ground either.”

Jax chuckled nervously but didn’t back down. “Oh yeah? Wanna try?”

Looks like causing mischief would be put on hold for an hour or two.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

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