#how many of ya'll actually read these tags

[generalsmemories]

WHO'S KICKING YOU?? Imma go kick them back >:((

no one kicks my favorite writer and gets away with it

you might as well kick me again then anon <3 <3

CAUSE THAT'S MY RATIONAL SIDE FIGHTING MY DELUSIONAL SIDE HALLELUJAH 💃💃💃💃

#narus' message corner #anon #for every delusinal message i send out there's a rational whacking waiting right behind it #i'm my biggest motivator and my biggest reality checker #wdym i can't marry jing yuan #the day i see his tiny lil nendroid self on the shelf is the day i actually combust and die. #how many of ya'll actually read these tags #im so sorry im more feral under these-

[geraldthellama]

Bowuigi Corpse Bride AU Lore Post

So I said I would probably make this and while I thought about making this into a fanfic and making ya'll read that, I decided that I need to commit to the other three (two and a half?) Mario fanfic ideas I have. So if anyone wants to make a full blown fic or whatever with this AU, feel free (but tag me ofc because I've got to see it).

(This will not be short, just a quick warning that this is a commitment).

This AU is very loosely based off the actual movie. Instead of them being in the underworld, they're just in a haunted house that Boo lost to Bowser in a game of poker, and instead of being a corpse (as the name suggests), Luigi is just a slightly annoying boo. Him and Polterpup are the only ones that inhabit the mansion, and, with the house completely abandoned, it's probably going to stay that way.

In this world, ghosts only stay after some massive traumatic death. Problem is, Luigi has no recollection of how he died, he just knows he hit his head and a little while later awoke, a ghost that's unable to be seen, heard, and is completely alone as a newly-deceased. Aside from the yipping ghost dog at his feet (Luigi has always been afraid of both ghosts and dogs).

As a ghost, Luigi originally spawns (spawns?) into this world with little ghostly abilities. Living beings can't see or hear him and he doesn't have the power to manipulate objects or people in any way. He is essentially a specter, watching the lives of other people for years until, eventually, it's abandoned, and the Peasley family mansion (one of many, that is) is gambled away to King Boo.

But, King Boos already got his own slew of creepy haunted mansions, and, frankly, this one is haunted by a ghost he can't stand. A ghost that hasn't been able to speak to someone for around a decade. A chatty ghost that hasn't been able to speak to someone for over a decade. He's not exactly torn up about parting with it.

Bowser, the poor thing, is on attempt...

Attempt... 2 hundred... something.

(at least 4 proposals a year, for around 20 years... that's...)

Let's just say, Peach does and has not wanted Bowser for a long ass time, and it really doesn't help his self esteem that he's still being thwarted by a plumber that's old enough to be his dad and uses a cane. He really can't understand what Peach sees in him, especially considering she still looks like a youthful 20/30-something into her 60s. Frankly, it's unfair. He's got money, kids (some really awesome ones too), power, looks (he thinks so at least), and isn't 3 pudding cups away from dementia.

What he hasn't got, until right now at least, is an awesome mansion, specially built for human(oid) creatures. Maybe she just didn't like gothic castle architecture? Maybe, as Boo suggests, he just has to get her scared enough to fall into his arms for safety. He's got this all planned out.

Boo did not specify that the "ghostly inhabitants" of this mansion were a hyperactive ghost dog and naive plumber. He didn't think it was important information at the time.

So, when Bowser is plotting and practice-proposes (does he really need more practice?) to the striking blue eyes of a, surprisingly, human painting, the last thing he expects is to be met with a ghoulish grin.

Barely ghoulish, because, god, the thing is bright. The smile and the bio-(bio?)-luminescent energy it's attached to. For a ghost who's wearing bloodied bandages and has been dead for 30 lonely years, he's surprisingly optimistic.

"Really?! And you're not even a boo!" :D

He's very optimistic, in fact, because he's willing to believe that this complete stranger might just be his ticket out of this wall-papered purgatory. He died meeting up with his forbidden love, after all, so it must be a sign. He does not hesitate to shove that ring on his finger, even if his new fiance looks hesitant (he might be naive enough to go with it, but he's not blind). He's convinced the two will make it work.

Luigi is... very tired of looking at the same things everyday. Now, he can attach to his new fiance, who's only slightly hesitant to engage with him, (and is not bad looking at all, in Luigi's opinion). Together, the two can actually have a life together. Luigi was only 25 when he died, and he was far too shy then to do any adventuring. The most rebellious thing the man had ever done was sneak out.

Man, look where that ended him.

For Luigi, this is his opportunity to live the life he wasted was robbed of.

And the guys got kids! How awesome is that?

Bowser is not liking the new pets at his side. One never stops yipping and yapping and one is a dog. Luigi is... fine. From a distance. The problem is that they physically can't get any. As long as Luigi is attached to him, consider them hand cuffed. This stupid, green boo is crimping his style, and any game he had with Peach is virtually ruined when he's got his "fiance" clinging to his side like he's the best thing since breathing air.

At least Luigi appreciates his kids. The ghost obviously has some taste (of course he does, he chose him for pete's sake), and Junior and the rest seem to like the ghoul enough... Even if Junior isn't completely sure that Luigi is a ghoul. Both Luigi and Junior agree that boos are scary.

Maybe, after some hard self-reflection (with Luigi close and present, of course), and some growing emotional intimacy and openness, Bowser begins to kind of, perhaps tolerate Luigi. Just a little. Just enough to find his stupid quirks endearing and just enough to start to think that maybe he's always been too good for Peach, anyway. Maybe he should be with someone who appreciates him and loves his family. It's not like her and Mario had ever had kids in their relationship, and her not wanting kids is kind of a deal breaker.

Bowser's newfound attention on Luigi is driving everyone else nuts, though. Boos barely seen the man since his unfortunate run in with the green leach and no one else at their poker table is any good. At this rate, Boos not even satisfied winning Peasley's riches off him anymore. Occasionally, a guy just wants to lose, y'know? Boo hates only one thing more than Peasley whining about the consequences of his gambling addiction, and that's boredom. He misses when the Koopa King spent all his time plotting against the old-ass plumber. At least then he showed his face at their meetings.

And when Boo finally brings up his grievances, because he deserves to rant, Peasley seems... nervous. Boo loves nervousness.

"There's a... human boo... in the mansion I gave you..?"

"One, you didn't give it to me, you lost, fair and square. Two, yeah, and he's just about the chattiest thing I've ever met. All dressed up in a white suit, the pretentious-"

At that, Peasley turns about as pale as a ghost. Well, if that were possible, considering he's a legume. Suddenly, he's got some important things he has to do somewhere else.

This poker table is looking weak.

When Peasley asks Bowser to meet at the mansion, Bowser warns he can't come alone. It's a stretch to get the green ghost to go back with him, and as much as Bowser wants to tell him "you're coming with me, whether you like it or not", he can't bring himself to say it. Instead, he convinces Luigi that it's a quick stay. Essentially, a welfare visit on the old house and a quick meeting with an old friend. Luigi's narrowly convinced.

Stepping back onto that porch brings back a lot of old memories for the human. Few of them anything good in retrospect.

But he does want to see his painting again. He always did cherish that painting. He's sure Bowser will too, right?

Is that painting a good memory for Bowser? He wonders.

It was all those years ago that a young Peasley gifted him that painting. Like him, he had been optimistic and in love. Even if his rich, snobby parents weren't a fan of the human, they had an entire life ahead of them. Peasley had made him a beautiful painting. It was the one part of the house Luigi felt was his. A good memory.

He never expected to be greeted by the same image he had all those years ago. Peasley, now older, stood in front of the painting. His face now wasn't proud or love-struck or whatever expression he had had then (Luigi can barely remember Peasley's face until just now), he looked somber. It was a rare occasion that Luigi wasn't green, and his teal glow seemed to throw Bowser off.

And divert Peasley's attention away from the miserable painting and over to the ghost, who was nervously twiddling his thumbs with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

It's not long before Bowser realizes that this meeting was never about him, and he feels more awkward than anything else...

Except that Polterpup has been on edge since the moment he saw the bean (now) king. Has he ever seen the dog not wag it's tail at someone?

Immediately, the older man apologizes. Things were never meant to end up how they did. He tried his best to help when he could.

Luigi's not angry, how could he be? Luigi's fall was an accident.

Peasley says he didn't know Luigi had stuck around, and if he had, he thinks he would have done things differently. He would have at least had the place cleaned instead of just letting it rot.

(So Peasley abandon the mansion? The perfectly good mansion for no reason, leaving Luigi alone.)

And, of course, Peasley's sorry for not telling Mario or his parents about what happened to him.

(HUH?)

He insisted that he waited for hours with Luigi, hoping he'd recover with enough gauze. The man told him it was a lost cause. If he could have saved him, he would have.

Hours?

"I was unconscious for hours?"

It came out as barely a whisper.

"I stayed almost the entire night. As long as I could."

Bowser didn't know boos could turn so many colors, especially that quickly. Bowser didn't think Luigi even had it in him to be anything less than smiley, especially completely enraged.

Luigi had never been more angry in his life (death).

Even Peasley's insistence that "You don't understand what they'd have done to me if they'd known I went against their wishes!" fell on deaf ears.

When Luigi's aura finally finished raving, Peasley had backed away from the now red ghost. Again, Luigi recognized the position they were in;

One of them backing up, away from the painting and towards the basement stairs. How could Peasley forget that door never closed all the way? It had only been the exact thing that killed Luigi 30 years ago. The exact thing that, of course, Peasley hadn't fixed.

Luigi swears he didn't push him, even in that state. Bowser believes him, only because the still angry and unaware Luigi yelled angrily down the stairs: "You better not die here, because I'll make your death hell!"

If they both hadn't just watched Peasley fucking die, Bowser would have kinda been into it.

It took Luigi a second to realize that even if his own fall had been an unlucky hit, Peasley wasn't 25 anymore. And he wasn't responding. His red hue didn't last long, especially when Polterpup no longer seems threatened (and Bowser notices that the bean king no longer seems to be breathing).

"What did I do?"

Bowser suggests fleeing the crime scene, which normally isn't his move, but he'd rather not be tied to the murder of a fellow royal. Luigi shakes his head.

This is his fault. And as angry as he still is at Peasley, he can't flee what he's done. Not in a right conscience. Not like what Peasley did to him. Luigi suffered enough sitting in that mansion alone for 30 years, and, as much as revenge tastes sweet, a small part of him still cares. Had he lived, Peasley and him would have had a life after all.

But he hadn't lived, did he.

Bowser can't remember a time ever seeing Luigi's color look quite as dull as it did then.

Playing with his engagement ring, Luigi thinks back on the part of the man he loved. Peasley never did buy him the ring, like he had hoped. Luigi remembers getting himself all excited over the possibility of a scenic proposal as they walked through the flower garden of the mansion. He had gifted him a painting. Which was almost as good.

He couldn't even count how many times he had stood and looked at that painting, thinking:

Was it worth it?

An apprehensive smile comes onto his face. A nostalgic smile. A somber one.

Doesn't really matter, does it? He'd never know if it was worth it in the end. This was how it ended up. Luigi had always believed that fate is what had brought him and Peasley together, considering everything else had lined them up for failure. Fate was what brought him here. What kept him here.

Who is he to drag down others?

He returns Bowser's ring.

"I'm sorry."

Bowser never deserved to have him weigh him down.

"I wasted my life chasing after a family I never got, and then spent my death doing the exact same thing."

Bowser awkwardly matches Luigi's bitter laugh.

"I lived my life, be it a short one, but you deserve to live yours."

Luigi pats the ring on his hand.

"I hope she likes it." He smiles. He means it. Peach sounds wonderful.

Tears prick Bowser's eyes, and all because...

He never did tell Luigi about him and Peach, did he? He can't help but laugh. Tears streaming down his face kinda laugh. The laugh you only get once a year kind of laugh.

"You spent, what? Maybe five non-consecutive years chasing after a family? Try twenty!"

Luigi's eyebrow goes up. This is supposed to be a super emotional goodbye and this goobers laughing? On about his conquest to marry Peach (who, apparently, is already married) and make his picturesque life. Luigi can't help but laugh, because it's so stupid that Bowser's laughing about this right now.

"Her and her stupid, human, mustachioed husband Mario have been kicking my ass for decades. I promise you, boo, you weren't ever getting in the way of anything."

Mario?!

"Mario?" (!)

"You heard of him?"

The excitement in Luigi's eyes (and aura) is obvious.

"My brother's name is Mario!"

With a look of determination, Bowser promises he'll tell Luigi the story of all his and Mario's exploits if he does him two favors.

Leaves this, frankly, ugly and decrepit mansion with him. Because this story needs atmosphere.

Puts the ring back on his finger. Because how else is everybody going to know they're engaged?

Luigi gives a grin.

He looks down the stairs. What about doing his due-diligence?

"I promise you, boo, if fate brought you and Peasley together, and pushed you down those stairs, and brought us together, and then pushed him down the stairs, fate is on your side."

Luigi's lips are still pursed.

"And it's almost sunrise," Bowser points out.

"So?"

"Well, we've waited almost all night, seems like a fair amount of time to me. It's obviously a lost cause."

At that, Luigi begins laughing. Not quite Bowser's guttural, teary laugh, but certainly a cackle. Enough to turn his aura back to a vibrant green, just like before. Enough to make him hunch over and take some (not really) much needed gulps of air.

When the laughing dies down to a hurt giggle, Bowser assures him that:

"You didn't kill him, Weeg."

No. I guess he didn't, did he?

Looking down the stairs one last time, (his death completely bloodless, the lucky bastard), Luigi's brows furrow for a second and he twiddles his thumbs.

If Luigi's learned one thing from being a condemned ghost, it's that you should take every chance you get.

The bottom of the stairs don't look so intimidating now.

"I...

I forgive you."

Maybe that is all Peasley deserves.

Luigi deserves to have another chance. And maybe Peasley does too, maybe he'll find one in the next lucky winner of poker. Someones gotta replace his spot at the table.

Bowser shares that he certainly deserves a mother to his children, and he's already got a quality candidate who's proved he's got what it takes. ("One who cooks, cleans, can't call in sick, die, and is pretty good looking! I hit the jackpot!")

Maybe, at the very least, Luigi deserves to see his brother one last time.

And maybe a few more times after that, for good measure.

Anyways so the original plan was just to have either Luigi and Bowser straight up immediately abandon the crime scene (not really crime scene) or have Luigi sit in the mansion forever and live out a miserable existence.

But I couldn't do that to my boys now could I. (But Peasley still gets abandoned because screw Peasley I hate that little bean man /j).

This wasn't meant to turn out in the format it did but, y'know, it did. Just know this isn't brief but also isn't comprehensive. I might (big emphasis on might) make a shorter headcanon post on this, but we'll see.

I hope you enjoyed. And sorry for the length, I am not known and will never be known for being concise.

#luigi #luigi mario #mario and luigi #prince peasley #king boo #bowser #bowuigi #boo luigi #mario au #corpse bride au #I'm ngl writing this took me multiple hours #but I said I'd do it #for my fans #(they aren't real I'm just delusional and tired)

[breannasfluff]

LU Write This In Your Style!

Welcome to #lu wtiys! I wanted to do something beyond a fandom prompt and this idea was born:

One fic, with a beginning, middle, and end for plot. Your job is to pick any member of the Chain you want, and write what happened from their PoV! When reading you'll notice I've left some details you are welcome to use, as well as options for angst or fluff.

Did Time lose a battle to a cucco, or did he have to rewind time and save the boys from certain death? What was the wolf doing in town and who was bleeding? How many tries did it take Hyrule to carry one bucket of water up a hill?

All these choices are yours! Pick the same character as someone else? Who cares! Everyone will do it different. Don't write but want to participate? Draw a scene! Everything is welcome; the idea is just to have fun as silly or as serious as you want to make it!

Fic link is here: AO3

AO3 Collection link here: LU_WTIYS

Tag #lu wtiys on tumblr and/or add your fic to the AO3 collection!

I can't wait to see what ya'll come up with! Excerpt of the fic below the cut:

Right. Purah can—she can do this. With the heroes' help, maybe it won’t end in a disaster. She grabs a scrap piece of paper and starts scribbling. “There are some items I need if we’re going to survive this. It’s imperative I get them before this evening, okay? If you are late, well…” She shudders and keeps writing. “Please, just take an item and go. There’s no time to waste and some of these might be difficult.”

Wind throws her a jaunty salute. “Don’t worry, ma’am, we got this!”

Time reads from the list, “One bucket of water from a tide pool in Hateno Bay. One bucket?”

Hyrule tentatively raises a hand. “Isn’t Hateno Bay right down there?” He waves toward the direction of the ocean.

Purah nods. “There’s a path that goes right down to the beach from here, actually. Can’t miss it.”

“Sure you won’t get lost on a path, traveler?” Warriors nudges Hyrule, who bats him away.

“I think I can handle one measly bucket of water.”

“Wanna bet? 20 rupees says it takes you three tries.”

“40 rupees that I can do it in one.”

#lu wtiys #write this in your style #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #lu sky #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu four #lu wind #breannasfluff #lu fanfiction #lu fanart #luwtiys #dtiys #wtiys #wild linked universe #ludtiys #lu dtiys

[xxavengingangelxx]

As the Rush Comes 1/1

Ya'll! I posted this fic a while ago. It was the post that took my Tumblr virginity. However, I was dumb back then and I'm still dumb now, honestly and I thought Tumblr had a low word limit so I removed some scenes like a director in a movie that's too long and I think that really took away from the quality of the story.

With Graves coming back, I figured now was as good a time as any to repost this. Although this time, I'm posting the whole thing. It came to me after a reading a fic by halfmothhalfman on AO3. Beginning is kinda boring but it sets things up for some good smut ;)

Summary: A female mercenary and Graves meet in a bar. @bellgraves because you asked for it ;)

Tags: Porn with plot, gun kink, hair pulling, borderline hate fucking, friends to enemies, blood and injury, shooting, top!Phillip Graves.

Tagline: You had 74 hits under your belt. A man named Phillip Graves would make 75.

TRIGGERS: Alleged/referenced child abuse, referenced suicide/self-harm, triggers for domestic violence, possible character death. MDNI, 18+ only.

-

I hate you.

That was the first sentence you said when you were 3 years old. You screamed it, shrieked it, to this towering man standing right in front of you. While you don’t remember exactly what had transpired, you know that you both were standing over your parents’ dead bodies and that your pajamas were sprayed red. The man in front of you did not know how to respond. It was almost as if he had never been around children so young.

You were perceptive like that even when you were 3 years old.

Sirens in the background seemed to pull the large man out of his reverie. You saw panic in his green eyes despite the fact that the rest of his face was covered in a black mask.

Then he took you.

***

And the rest is history. You learned from him later that he grabbed you because the police were on the way, you were clearly verbal, and you might make a good witness. He admitted later that he had not been around any children much less raised one. My childhood was a shithole, he would tell you.

He told you eventually that the initial plan was to avoid doing the ‘hit’ when you, a toddler, were in the home but that the timing had not given him any other alternative. He mentioned his boss told him that if the child, you, were in the home, to avoid doing it in front of you. But if shit hit the fan, then, hell, he said he had been given the green light to get rid of you, too.

He told you many times, sometimes when he was drunk, that there was no way he could kill any child, much less one that’s not even school age. So he did the only thing that came to him. He eliminated the witness without killing you. He couldn’t just throw you into foster care or abandon you because then you could be a witness. Plus he mentioned to you a lot that foster care was fucking awful. You learned that when you spent almost 6 months in foster care after he was accused of abuse. He’d burned your fingerprints off when you were 10 and the teachers were shocked when they tried to do a science project that involved fingerprints. You denied abuse, saying you were a disturbed child (you really were disturbed so it was half truth) who’d done it to herself. You were happy to be home with him however dysfunctional the home was.

He raised you. He raised you the only way he knew how. He actually never really abused you. Sure he’d beat the shit out of you if you acted up. You tried running away once and he almost put you in the hospital with the beatdown he gave you. He smacked you across the face if you got smart mouthed with him. You saw your first murder/hit when you were 10. But you didn’t consider that abuse. You considered it being put back in line. He raised you and taught you the only thing he knew.

Murder for hire.

He’d given you the name Raquel, after one of the avenging angels of heaven. You never knew your real name and to be honest you didn’t really give a fuck. You were apparently born in California and he hauled you all the way to the miserable, lonely town of International Falls, Minnesota to grow up. No one would bother looking in the nation’s ice box.

Businesswise, all you knew is that he was paid by someone else. He was hired by different people to do different hits. His own boss, your boss’s boss, ran a PMC on the side or so you heard. That was your goal: to be a PMC contractor. You’d been all over the world with your job with countless identities. But PMCs got to go to the really fun places. You’d sniped once or twice but wanted to do it more often.

So now you did what he did. Kinda. You’d have to work your way up the ranks. You’d been killing since you were 18. He was ‘nice’ enough to not make you kill before you were 18. Besides, you’d be fuckin’ sloppy anyway. At least when you both thought you were about 18. You did not know your actual birthday and neither did he. Neither of you gave a fuck. You had 74 hits under your belt, all done in the last 15 years. About 5 kills a year and the rest off to do whatever the hell you wanted whether that be party and get drunk (no drugs allowed or you risked getting a target put on your back) or whether it was nothing in a hotel room. You needed 100 hits to be considered for PMC.

A man named Phillip Graves would make 75.

You never asked the why. You never asked if they worked for him before and they had gone rogue. He made it a goal to not let his soldiers know about each other in case he had to order a hit on one of his own. The why was simply not important.

So, Phillip Graves. Someone above your boss had ordered the hit.

You were told to be careful, that he was the CEO of his own PMC. He was dangerous, you were told. You’d have to be on your toes.

I want to make your 75th special, he had told you. Try not to die. We could use a woman in the PMC. Ya’ll get to do stuff men can’t. And definitely do not let him recruit you. It’d be treason to me. Pays $50,000.

The hit was not ‘immediate’ which meant you needed to gather some basic information from him. When the final order came down for the hit to be carried out to “full term” you were to kill him. But not until then.

***

You initially met Phillip Graves in a bar.

You wore something revealing. A hot, tight black dress with thigh boots. Your hair curled over your shoulders and you had your fuck me makeup on. One of the ways you would attract your mark’s attention was to wear a black silicone wedding ring. And it worked this time, too.

“Your husband know you’re here?” A man with a Southern drawl called from behind you. Before you faced him your smirked to yourself.

“I’m not married,” you snapped, turning to face him.

“Coulda fooled me,” he shrugged and nodded towards the ring on your finger.

“Maybe I wear it to stop creeps like you from talking to me,”

“Ain’t gonna stop me, sweetheart,” he moved to sit on the stool next to you, removing dark aviator sunglasses. His blue eyes shone even in the low light of the bar. “Are you?” His cologne smelled intoxicating in a way. There was a slight smell of…gunpowder.

Hot motherfucker, ain’t he?

“Nope,” you replied.

“Name’s Phillip,”

“Ariel,” you lied.

“I’m just gonna ask, ma’am,” he started eyeing your body up and down without shame. “Are you for sale?”

You scoffed. In a way, you thought.

“What makes you think that?”

He huffed a laugh.

“Pardon my language but you’ve got fuck me written all over you.” His eyes focused on yours, looking for a reaction. “Hell several men in here are actively eye fucking you.”

“You mean that disgusting fuck in the corner?” you signaled to an overweight 50 year old eyeing you like you were prey. “Ugh,”

“He seems like the rapey type,” Graves added. “You can either hook up with him or me,”

“Or neither,” you rolled your eyes. “And no I’m not for sale, sir.”

“Sounds good to me because I don’t pay. If I see someone I like I get ‘em.” He paused. “Even if that means using force.”

You scoffed. The only reason you took him half seriously if because this is Phillip fucking Graves. “You come off a deployment or somethin’, man? You seem desperate.”

His blue eyes flashed anger and you could swear he was resisting the urge to smack you across the face. He seemed like the type that didn’t have a problem hitting women. Or killing them.

“It’s been longer than I’d like,” he admitted.

“Whatever,”

“Playin’ hard to get?” his blue eyes were dilated now. He liked the thrill of the chase.

“Start over,” you snapped.

You saw when he gritted his teeth. This man was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted to.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he smirked.

***

You led him back to your motel room.

You didn’t have to wait or ask for him to get things started.

He shoved you against the door, one of his hands tangling in your soft hair and the other gripping your ass in an almost bruising grip. He detangled his hands from your hair and your ass and then used them to tear your short dress from the bottom up.

“Asshole,” you breathed. “This was expensive, dick,”

He ignored you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hiking you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. One of his hands went back to your hair, gripping it tight and pulling hard, causing sharp pain and making you hiss.

His teeth grazed your throat. If wanted to he could’ve ripped your throat out with his teeth. You had a fleeting thought, wondering if he’d ever done that to someone. If he had ever ripped a man’s throat out. His mouth moved to your pulse point. You felt him grin when he felt your accelerating heartrate. He bit and sucked. You were sure he’d leave bruises.

“No marks,” you retorted. “I don’t belong to you,”

“No, you do tonight,” he breathed.

He continued biting, sucking. Your boss would call you a fucking whore with a smile on his face when he saw.

You had never been afraid to sleep with the men your killed. It was weird in a fucked up kind of way. Your boss, also known as your caregiver when you were growing up, had never laid a hand on you that way but he’d mentioned many a time that women can use their looks to bait when men usually could not. It was one of the reasons he wanted to accelerate you to your 100 kills…to get you into that PMC. You’d feel a rush when you finished off men as they slept off their tirade. You’d call it a rush coming and it released only when they were dead.

Graves wouldn’t die tonight, though. But he would eventually.

Flirt, fuck, repeat until the order came in to drop him.

You were tossed on the bed roughly, bringing your mind back to the present. He finished ripping your dress open, saying something you didn’t quite get because no sooner than he tossed you on the bed he had unclasped your bra and started biting and sucking your breasts, again leaving hickies and bruises. He got lower…lower…

And lower. He made quick work of your underwear, his hot breath hitting your sex and making you sigh.

“I said, you’re sure moaning like a whore,”

And with that you wanted to hear him beg.

You shoved him, shedded the rest of your clothing and walked towards him. You then knelt in front of him and he was clearly confused by the way you went from shortly dominating the situation to submission. You knew Graves…at least enough about him…to know he got off on being in control. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun.

Your trembling fingers unbuckled his military-style belt and that was when you noticed his sidearm. You were tempted to grab it and just fucking kill him then but not yet. You didn’t have the orders. You easily worked the belt off but he grabbed his sidearm out of your reach.

You got on your haunches, appearing even smaller before him. You look at him through your bangs, through your lashes (real lashes not that fake shit), and you feel your mascara and eyeliner running, initiated by your sweat and the rain outside. You parted your lips slightly and he sighed, his blue eyes barely visible because his pupils were so dilated.

“I don’t trust you, sweetheart,” he grabs his sidearm and yanks it from the holster. Shit…you might have to kill him tonight.

You pouted, attempting to manipulate him.

“You seem like you’re into dark shit,” he grumbled as he freed his cock, the tip of it leaking precum and standing inches from your lips.

“What’s that mean?” you whispered as you licked your lips.

He aimed the sidearm at your head. “You sure as hell know what to do,” he hissed, his other hand stroking himself. “Get to it. Now.”

“Sick fuck,” you mumbled. You took him into your mouth quickly, knowing no man would willingly shoot a woman giving him head in the head or anywhere else. Teeth could be deadly to a man in more ways than one.

“No sicker n’ you,” he moaned. He kept one hand on his sidearm against your head and one hand then tangled in your hair.

You felt as he got harder and harder in your mouth. You moaned around him and he hissed, the vibration apparently rubbing him the right way. It was fucking hot. Here you were sucking cock with a gun to your head. You didn’t mind. Phillip Graves was attractive unlike most of the men you’d handled.

His hand started loosening on his sidearm and you took that as you doing your damn job right. His hips were thrusting into your face and you felt him hitting the back of your throat. Tears escaped the sides of your eyes as you almost, almost gagged.

It was at that point that he tossed the sidearm on the bed to grasp your hair with both hands. He effectively started facefucking you. But that was where you drew the line. He still had his uniform pants halfway on and you gripped the thick fabric, preventing him from bruising your throat. You stopped it all…you stopped using your tongue, stopped using your tongue piercing to get him even harder.

“Beg,” you said after you pulled away from him. His cock was angry…red.

“Bitch, you don’t get to tell me—” he grasped your hair and threw you onto the bed again. “You dress like a whore, you get treated like one.” He climbed over you. You found it hot he was still in uniform and you were totally naked. Well except for your knee boots. Hell, he still had the vest under his shirt on. “I don’t treat a lady like this, but you…”

He settled between your legs, his hot cock rubbing your entrance. You moaned like a porn star because you’d started getting wet the moment you saw him. He was hot. And the fact that you were going to end his life not long from now got you hotter. So easy to manipulate men…

He didn’t even bother preparing you. He slammed in to the hilt, making you cry out.

“Whatever, slut,” he snapped. “Take it.”

He reached for your wrists holding you down as he rammed into you. His eyes looked down on you, focusing mostly on the way your breasts bounced as he fucked you…hard.

He was hitting that special spot inside of you. One few men knew to hit. He ground against you, rubbing your clit in between you both. You had never understood women who couldn’t cum from vaginal sex. How could you not?

You wanted to break your hands free from his iron grip. You were sure he’d leave bruises on your wrists, something else for boss to tease you about. You’re fucked up, he’d likely say. But he never complained because you always got the job done.

You felt that heat building up deep inside of you as he continued his relentless thrusts. He was thrusting faster, deeper, harder. When he leaned forward and bit your lip with his teeth (and drew blood) that pushed you over the edge.

You cried out in his mouth. You finally got your hands loose, tangling them in his short hair. You wrapped your legs around his waist, as you rode out your orgasm. You moved your hands to scratch his back but you felt only unform and Kevlar, no blood like you would have liked.

He broke loose from the kiss, moving to leave another mark just under your jaw.

He followed with his own climax shortly after. You felt him throbbing inside of you and it was at that moment that you realized ya’ll hadn’t even considered safe sex. Not that you cared. Hot men got a pass on that. Ugly ass men had to wear condoms.

His breath came in hurried gasps as he rode out his own orgasm, pulsing inside of you all the while.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned. He stilled his hips and hovered over you, his dirty blonde hair ticking your breasts.

You were both hot, both sweaty, and you had several marks all over you. Proof of his dominance. It was almost like he wanted to mark you so no one else would touch you. He wanted you all to himself.

“Motherfucker,” you hissed as he pulled out of you and collapsed next to you. “I said no marks.” You observed marks on your breasts and that the bony part of your wrist already had a light blue tint, promising a bruise.

He scoffed, rolling off the bed. All he had to do was pull his pants up and secure his belt. He secured his sidearm next.

“What’re you doing about…” he trailed off.

“About what?” You sat up, your body aching in protest. You felt his essence sliding out of you and onto the cheap motel bed.

He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly appearing shy. “You know what.”

“Pregnancy?”

“I’m actually looking to settle down and have a kid,”

His eyes widened and you saw panic in his blue eyes. His blue eyes had lost the indigo color they had when he had been fucking you. You wondered if that would be the same look in his eyes when you killed him. You weren’t sure yet if you’d use a gun or a knife but the orders said the mark has to be within arm’s reach so that meant no sniping.

“Kidding,” you laughed. “I don’t want no fucking kids.” You sighed before adding, “I’ll get Plan B but I have an IUD.”

He sighed in obvious relief.

“Leaving already?” you asked as he started for the door.

“You know what kinda relationship this is gonna be,” he replied, not even bothering to turn around. He opened the door. “See you next week?”

“Count on it,” you smirked.

***

It had been exactly 30 days since you met Phillip Graves when the ‘full-term’ order came through. You’d learned the basics about him. Some of his habits, that he was ex-military, that he owned his own company although he refused to tell you where he worked.

So you met him at another that Friday night. The Friday night. You met in different places, sometimes hundreds of miles apart. But all were close to a base. The bar was usually filled with uniformed men looking to have a good time and relax. It was colder then and so you wore tight jeans with knee boots. A beanie covered your normally cascading hair. It was sleeting outside. And it was about to turn into snow.

“Hey there,” he drawled.

“Graves,” you smirked.

”It’s gonna be hard to peel you out of those jeans,” he eyed you up and down. Little did he know you did not intend to take your clothes off for him this time.

You followed the typical schedule. Some drinks and then you both left to go to the nearby motel. It’s not like you had a home to take him back to. You’d lived in hotels and motels and extended stay inns since you were 18.

It had started to snow and you watched some of the small furry white snowflakes landed in your loose curls of hair.

“After you, ma’am,” he smirked, holding the motel room door open.

“Such a gentleman,” you purred.

“Not for long,” he sneered.

You had set an alarm on your phone. You’d timed it to go off right before he dragged you to the bed like he always did at least once a week.

“Ugh, my fucking boss,” you pretended to be annoyed.

“What’d you do?”

“None of your business,” you responded to his question about what you did for a living.

“Whore out apparently,” he laughed.

You glared.

“Let me text this asshole and then we’ll get down to business,” you smiled.

“I’m gonna take a piss then,” Graves said nonchalantly as he walked to the bathroom.

Perfect.

You heard as he took care of business, flushed and then went to wash his hands. His back was to you. Foolish move.

So you grabbed a 9mm you kept in your large purse. A 9mm had more recoil than you liked but it definitely got the job done. Especially at close range. You wanted to look in his eyes when you killed him. You didn’t know why he was on a hit list but he had apparently pissed someone off badly enough to want him killed at close range. You’d have to aim for the head because he had his heavy duty tactical vest on today. The one with the wires for communication, the antenna folded several times over. It had an American flag and a patch that read B-23. You suddenly regretted you hadn’t had him use zip ties with you in your month together.

He looked in the mirror and…the cat was out of the bag.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” he laughed. “You were too good to be true.” He turned and walked towards you.

You raised the 9mm.

“Don’t do that. Don’t. Do that,” he warned. He had a different look in his eyes this time. His hand brushed his own sidearm, almost as if he didn’t take your threat seriously, like he knew he’d kill you before you ever got the chance to even try to kill him.

You scoffed. He was a military man. He knew orders were orders.

“You work with a PMC? Or are you a hired slut with a gun?”

“None of your fucking business,” you said through gritted teeth.

“No one needs to get hurt here.”

“You know one of us has to get hurt.” You paused before you added, “mortally so.”

“Let’s not do this,” he said calmly. He knew that his heavy duty vest would catch almost any bullet you fired at his chest.

You shook your head.

“Why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation?” He demanded. “It’s not.”

“You’re right it’s not,” you stood strong. “I can’t fail. I’ve never failed. He always told me I don’t want to find out what will happen to me if I fail. He just said I’d wish I was dead.”

“Leave,” he snapped. “I like you but I will hurt you if you so much as try.”

You scoffed internally because none of the men you’d killed had put a fight.

You clicked the safety off and before your finger could go from straight to curled over the trigger, he lunged.

Suddenly you found yourself flat on your back with the back of your head hitting the thin, cheap, disgusting carpet with a thud. You saw black spots in your vision. You immediately came back to lucidity. Passing out would be certain death. Or Graves escaping.

“Get off me, you asshole!” you screamed. All the extra gear he had on made him heavier than he already was and some of the gear was digging into your ribs.

He didn’t respond. Instead Graves easily straddled you and pinned you down the same way he’d held your wrists down when he’d fucked you. He leaned forward, his dirty blond hair falling over his forehead. He easily peeled your fingers off the gun and tossed it out of reach.

You shouted, “Ugh, bastard!” before you wrapped your right leg around his waist, feeling bruises forming from his gear. It was usually a lot easier for you to wrap your legs around him but not tonight. Luckily your heels gave you extra height. You dropped your heel on the small of his back, where it was not covered by the vest.

Momentarily startled, he eased his grip on your wrists. You eased your right hand out of his grasp and punched him right in the face. He full on growled with fury as he fell sideways a bit and you shook your hand from the pain, knowing you’d broken something. He stumbled again so you put your right leg in between the two of you and kicked, pushing him off you.

He stumbled, falling sideways once more. “Bitch,” he growled lowly. This was a tone you had not heard from him before. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you. I’ll watch the light leave your eyes.”

You reached for a knife you kept in your boot and taking advantage of the fact that you were both still on your knees, you lunged and sliced.

Graves almost yelped. He pressed his gloved hand to the open cut on his face. On his right cheek. It was sure to scar. Not that it would matter since you’d be killing him tonight. You’d go to his funeral. You were actually going to miss him. If only you’d sliced lower than his right cheek you would have sliced his throat.

“Motherfucking bitch,” he snarled when his fingers came back with his own blood. “Walk away!” he roared. “Last fucking chance before I rip you to shreds.”

“I told you I cant,” You replied simply. “One of doesn’t get any older than tonight.” You reached for a small pink Beretta you kept in your leather jacket pocket. It was your go-to if things got too hot. And things were HOT right now. Not sexually so but dangerously so.

He got in front of you so fast you barely registered.

How did a man that large move so quickly?!

You felt him full on punch you with a closed fist across your face and you heard a sickening, nauseating crack as blood gushed from your nose. A choked sob escaped you despite your attempts to hide it because holy shit he hit you hard. Like he would hit a man. You were losing and losing badly. You stumbled but he then gripped your right arm in a hold.

Another second and he had broken your arm…easily.

You screamed because fuck it hurt and it forced you to drop the gun.

Your boss and caregiver had forced you to be ambidextrous with all your weapons and you silently thanked him for that now.

You reached for your second to last weapon. Another knife. You got it in your left hand and sliced towards him, almost catching his throat when he again attacked you, assaulted you, almost ripped you apart (like he said he would) again. It was so close you yelled out in anger, frustration. You’ve been close two fucking times now.

Two loud bangs and flashes threw you off.

Things blacked out for a second or to and…

You were back on the floor again, on your back, your head hitting it a second time. You immediately spat and coughed blood when you tried to take a breath. You felt a red mist fall on your face and chest. Your ears were ringing, painfully so and you vision had black edges.

What the hell had happened?! Your mind went into panic, something you’d never really experienced before. Your brain switched to a more primal state of survival.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” he repeated a line he’d said earlier. “You there?” he drawled as your hearing went in and out, all while painfully ringing. “That was a big mistake. It did not have to be like this.”

You barely heard him over the ringing in your ears. And…were your ears bleeding?

“Sunovabitch,” he muttered. He said you’d made a grave mistake and some dark part of your mind laughed insanely, because his last name is Graves.

“I don’t usually kill or punch women but you’re an exception to that,” he said cooly. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

You saw him blurrily but you still saw him as he picked up both your firearms and your knives. He then walked up to you. He was getting hurried in his movements. While this was a shady ass motel with gunshots all the time, he knew he couldn’t be found anywhere near there when the police eventually came.

He then grabbed your jacket and dragged you closer to the motel door. You left red streaks as he crudely hauled you. He tossed you into a corner. Probably so when he walked out you wouldn’t have a clear view on him.

“Sorry, soldier,” he commented. “Should’ve kept an eye on the 9 I made you drop earlier.” He laughed. The sadistic bastard laughed cruelly and he added, “Shot with your own sidearm.”

“Kinda a shame,” he continued, his eyes glinting as they caught the bright neon streetlight just outside your room. The blood on his face was now running down his neck, to his shoulder, staining his uniform and vest. It look bright red in places and dark red in others. “I mighta hired ya for some of my less challenging jobs.”

It was probably the first time in your adult life you started crying. You likely had a pleading look on your face. You felt tears of frustration, of pain, or red-hot anger fall from your eyes and slide down the sides of your face. They landed in your hair and they were tinged red from the coughed up blood on your face.

He slipped your Beretta into a pocket, saying, “souvenir,” as he grinned callously. You expected him to hold it to your head and finish you off. You were going to make him look at you when he killed you.

But he turned away.

“You’d better kill me,” you gasped. The effort sent you into a gasping and coughing fit and you were again covered in your own blood. You swore on your fucking life this man would die if you survived this.

He turned back towards you and easily grabbed your cellphone from your jacket pocket, kneeling beside you. He rested one of his knees on your ribs, making you really start crying. You couldn’t stop it…it hurt. It hurt so fucking bad.

“Unlock it,” he demanded of your phone. He held it just out of your reach, almost as if he wanted to see you suffer. “You put up a good fight but fight’s over.”

Cruel, merciless bastard.

You were dying tonight so what the hell. You used your left index finger to unlock the phone.

He creepily knew right where to go. His rust-red fingers danced over your screen, his blue eyes shining bright with the screen’s light. Your screen would likely be caked with your blood and his blood. At least you’d made the great Phillip Graves bleed.

That scar on his face would make sure he never forgot you. But then again if your survived, the scars that would litter your body (the gunshot wounds, the plates probably required to repair your arm) would make sure you didn’t forget him either.

He showed you the screen.

He had gone into your text messages and somehow found your boss’s number.

He had typed: Come get your girl’s body. -Graves

And he hit send.

“You’re very likely as good as dead,” he said before he clicked his tongue. “But if they get to you in time, stay the hell away from me.” He reached down, grasping your hair with a ferocity he had not before. He raised you off the floor and you were pretty sure you lost consciousness for more than a few seconds. But he waited for you to open your eyes again before he asked, “We clear?”

You nodded despite yourself. Hell no you intended to make him suffer if you survived.

“Good,” he drawled. “If you don’t die tonight, I’ll fucking slaughter you if I see you again.” It sounded like a promise. “I’ll have one last fuck and then I’ll paint the fucking walls with your brains.”

He got up and tossed you your cell phone on your chest. You’d seen that curiously enough, weirdly enough he had dialed 911. He stood back up. The movement of air as he stood resulted in scents of blood, sweat, cologne, and gunpowder being sent your way. Usually it was hot. Tonight it almost made you gag.

You tried to roll into the recovery position on your side and you screamed as it felt like your inside were on fire. The phone slid off your chest onto the floor.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

You ignored it. You looked for something, anything that could kill this son of a bitch. Like an attack dog you’d been conditioned since you were a child: Either finish the job or die trying. He had your Beretta and your 9mm and both knives. There was no way you could reach your last resort weapon. He was taking no chances and giving you nothing to strike back at him with. He knew you better than you gave him credit for.

Besides, he was gone.

The 911 operator kept trying to get in touch with you.

You tried to say you’d been shot but could only gasp for air, choking on your own blood. Being in the recovery position helped you not choke and gag as much but you were sure you had bad internal bleeding. You vomited the alcohol you’d recently drank, the liquid burning your inside wounds like lava. Something primal in your brain fought for survival and wanted you to reply to that 911 operator.

You set your head down on your left arm, cradling your broken right. You sniffled because fuck…fuck…FUCK. Phillip Graves had mopped the floor with you. He had beaten you within an inch of unconsciousness and then shot you. All in the span of less than 5 minutes. You’d been cocky, so sure you could manipulate him with sex and seduction. It had worked for all the other men.

But not Phillip Graves. Speak of the devil because you heard him start his pickup truck parked just outside the motel room window.

You opened your eyes again, not knowing how much time had passed. You then noticed something…your 9mm. You thought you were hallucinating so you tentatively reached out for it, choking back a sob of pain and misery. You’d been crying at this point so you gave up on trying to hold back tears. You gripped it with trembling, bloody, sticky fingers. So he hadn’t taken it. When did he drop it or set it down? You had no idea.

“I’m sending police and ambulance to your location,” the 911 operator’s voice echoed in your head and it seemed to reverberate forever.

You ignored her. You grasped the gun and pointed it to the left side of your head on your temple. You angled the gun downwards because you knew that made it more likely for the bullet to take out the basic part of your brain that controlled breathing and heartrate and blood pressure. You squeezed your eyes and pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened. You then saw that the son of a bitch had ejected the clip and the bullet from the chamber.

“Motherfucker,” you whimpered in a whisper.

Your phone dinged. A text message.

You better fucking explain yourself, Raq. What the hell kinda message was that? You lazily read the text message from your boss. Graves better be KIA. Another text bubble. Just because you grew up with me doesn’t mean I won’t beat your ass and put you back in line if you failed me. You couldn’t reply and didn’t want to. A phone call from your boss. Another text message as you wavered in and out of consciousness. You blinked through tears and saw him text again. Answer your fucking phone. Yet another text bubble. You’re pissing me off, Raq. Answer me. I need a sit rep.

Oh well. You were likely going to bleed out anyway.

A fucked up end to a fucked up life. If by some miracle you survived, you might have to go rogue. Missing in action because there would be a hit on you for the failed job. Phillip fuckin Graves would die if you survived. That much you promised yourself.

But you were dying. Fast.

At least it was looking like you wouldn’t find out what happened if you failed.

***

I honestly don't know if she's alive or dead ;)

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #mw2 141

[mtreebeardiles]

Fandom Questions

Ah! Got tagged by @theoriginalladya - Many thanks! I think I read this at like...some obscene hour in the early morning, passed back out, and promptly forgot about it til just now hahaha

Tagging let's see uhhh... @urdnotflexthejedibard @aleiocus @solstheimtxt @clericofshadows and uhhh @illusivesoul -- only if ya'll want to, of course!

How many works do you have on AO3? 50!

What's your total AO3 words count? 643,168

What fandoms do you write for? That have actually been posted: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda, Cyberpunk: 2077, Dragon Age, Fallout 4, The Outer Worlds

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Intangible Things (131) The Paths You Take (125) Biotic Theory (95) No Matter What (92) Stealing for Spite (92)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! Even just an expression of gratitude, though I'm not averse to rambling hahaha

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Hmm that's probably No Matter What, my in between fic for ME2 and ME3...

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Currently, gotta say Restoration (ME3/Post-ME3, mshepclone x Major Coats)

Do you get hate on fics? Hmm I don't think I'd qualify anything as "hate," but I have had readers express a dislike for a direction I seemed to be going in. Eh, what can ya do?

Do you write smut. If so what kind? I do! Generally not very explicit, and I'm a sucker for fluffy smut specifically. I love lovers being incredibly dorky together, and that includes in the bedroom.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Hahahah, yes. Stardew Effect is a crossover of Mass Effect and Stardew Valley that I'm surprised got a lot of positive reception haha

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge

Have you ever had a fic translated? No

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? No. Original works, yes, but that was a while back, and never for fanfics.

What's your all-time favourite ship? I gotta pick ONE!? How about...one per my favorite fandoms...ME: mshenko, ME:A, mreyder, and Cyberpunk: m!V x Kerry

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? It's not a matter of doubt, it's a matter of getting my muses to be consistent. I'll get to all WIPs in due time, though some may be absorbed into other projects that better suit them

What are your writing strengths? I like to think I'm mechanically and stylistically pretty consistent?

What are your writing weaknesses? Plotting. Outlining. Like long-form, I just can't follow an outline to save my life

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I've had some interjections of other languages (mostly Spanish, since I have some very very basic understanding there), but otherwise I don't think I could get the words to flow right if it wasn't primarily in my native language.

First fandom you wrote for? TECHNICALLY? Tortall. But I was like, 11 and idr what it was even about. More recently, Mass Effect.

Favourite fic you've ever written? Ahh that's hard! Restoration will always have a special place in my heart, but Chasing Storms had some really fun moments too in terms of writing in and of itself

#fandom questions #tag meme #my writing #had to really noodle on some of these haha

[seiya-starsniper]

Trope Game

Finally getting around to doing this! Tagged by the amazing @tj-dragonblade and @reallyintoscience, thank you so much darlings! <3

Rules: How much do these tropes affect your decision to click on a fic?

-10 -> very dissuaded

0 - don't care either way

+10 -> very enticed

nope -> if it's a hard no and you'd never click on a fic with that tag or or you even have the tag blocked or you'd insta click out of the fic if it wasn't tagged

Bonus points for explaining the rating and whether it's conditional.

Age gap: +8

Age gap is a pretty compelling trope for me, mainly due to the power dynamic differences and how those get addressed. In a dark fic, the power imbalance can make for good whump/angst if the writer really leans into. In a more romantic/fluff setting though, addressing the age gap and the power dynamics in a healthy manner is practically a requirement for me to enjoy the fic. In a pwp/smut setting, sometimes it's just hot to have an older person guiding a younger one.

Codependency: +3

Co-dependency can be a compelling trope for me, but I won't seek it out unless it's from an author I know and love, or it's recommended to me by someone who shares my tastes. If it's darkfic co-dependency though, sign me the fuck up, maximum whump and unhealthy dynamics let's gooooooooooooo.

Obsession/Possessiveness, jealousy: +10

Love this trope. Love it in dark fic when things get dicey between the two love interests and there's a power struggle, but I also love it when someone kills someone just because they hurt their lover, amazing trope. A++++++++

Opposites (grumpy/sunshine etc): +20

99% of all my favorite ships are some combination of this in canon and in fic. Give me all of it, all day, every day.

Enemies to lovers, Enemies with benefits: +10

Big sucker for this trope in all forms. I love antagonism that turns into something else and then oh no, we have to actually communicate about things. Or not. Or, for maximum angst purposes, a betrayal happens. (can ya'll sense a trend yet lmaooooo)

Friends with benefits: +5

Big fan of this trope in a PWP setting, but for anything else, it must also be accompanied by (see below trope) or I probably won't be super interested in the fic.

Sex to feelings: +10

Absolutely love this trope. Sex first, communication second. Lots of room for misunderstandings and heart to hearts.

Fake dating/relationship: +5

Fake dating is my guilty pleasure and I adore it but it's not a drop everything and read it sort of thing for me. It's gotta be propped up by some of the other tropes for me to find it compelling.

Friends to lovers: +5

Same as with fake dating. There's gotta be something else in there to make it more compelling to me, but I do love reading it (and writing it!)

Found Family: 0

This trope used to be a +10 for me but I think I've burned out on it over the last few years lol. Too many antis have used the excuse "ew you can't ship them, they're part of the same found family so it's incest!" and I am just...tired lol.

Not to mention so much fic I've read is often just the female and/or poc characters propping up the white mlm ship and slapping "found family" on the tags.

That said, I'm still a sucker for the trope as a whole, just not so much in fanfic.

Hurt/Comfort: +10

ANGST ANGST ANGST. My bread and butter. Give me all the hurt/comfort. Or hurt with minimal comfort. I love having my heart wrung out.

Love Triangle: -10

Unless the love triangle resolves into a polyship do not even show me a love triangle fic lol.

Poly, open relationships: +10

A++++++++++ trope. No notes.

Mistaken/hidden identity: 0

Mistaken and hidden identity to me are two TOTALLY DIFFERENT THINGS but I digress. Not my favorite trope and won't go seeking it out. This kind of goes hand in hand with amnesia fic too I think. I have read some AMAZING ones, but that's like 1 out of every 50 I try to give a chance to lol

Monsterfucking: +100000000000000000000000

Just, yes. Proud monsterfucker always and forever.

Pregnancy: -5

Meh lol. I like kidfic quite a bit, but pregnancy is just not that interesting to me in fic. I think the one exception to this is maybe omegaverse pregnancy fic, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I'm a slut for omegaverse worldbuiding than anything else. Human pregnancy though, could take it or leave it.

Second Chance: +5

I really don't care for this trope as a whole, however I have read some amazing ones recently for Dreamling so it's I'm giving it some points. This is probably due to the fact that I am also a slut for angst hahahaha.

Slowburn: +7

I love a good slow burn but I am also impatient as fuck so I'm docking some points from the full +10 hahahaha. Bless authors for 100k slowburn fics, you are the backbones of fandom.

Soulmates: +10

I LOVE SOULMATES. I love true mates, I love all the lore around having one person be your other half. But I also love people who subvert the trope in fun ways, people whose soulmates have died, people who don't marry their soulmates, immortal soulmates, people born without soulmarks, worlds where soulmates aren't perfect and sometimes your soulmate is also your worst enemy. I may love the subversions more than the actual trope come to think about it lmao.

Tagging with no obligation @aquilathefighter @eobardthawneallen @lyriclorelei @rooftopwreck @ferelden-loser @tryan-a-bex @bazzybelle @zigzag-wanderer @silver-dream89 @lenreli @valiantstarlights

#seiya gets tagged #this was fun thanks for tagging me!!!!

[fortheloveofdeaddove]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

WHOMST. Whomstever you are, many secular blessings upon you. How kind and considerate! <3

I don't have much under this pseudonym yet so this is practically my catalogue minus like... 3 fics.

Each of these fics is Dead Dove and has an Explicit Rating. Please read the tags on Ao3 CAREFULLY before proceeding to any actual reading. My fics contain dark material such as rape, underage, violence, MOIDAH (murder), etc.

The Magnificent Centuries - The Hobbit - Harem AU (Erebor never fell)- Bagginshield, Durincest, tons of pairings, much incest - Featuring Thorin/Kili, Bilbo/Thorin, Bilbo Baggins must navigate his way to the top of King Thorin' harem. Along the way he faces rivals for Thorin's affections who will go to any lengths to prevent the Hobbit's rise. Meanwhile, Fili struggles with his unrealized love for his brother while doing everything in his power to protect him from the machinations of the harem. He must do this all while not endangering his heir status by challenging or questioning his uncle's authority, or getting too close to Kili.

From my The Witcher House of Rivia series:

Making Room - Geralt/Ciri, Geralt/Jaskier and soooo many more - Grooming AU - Geralt navigates maintaining his seduction of his son Julian while integrating his new "adopted" daughter into their home, and bed. Many chapters of dark, dark smut.

Getting Settled - Sequel to 'Making Room' - The twisted adventures of the debauched Rivia clan continue. More of the same, but I'd say my writing quality significantly improved.

Increase and Multiply - Lambert/Triss, Eskel/Triss, Coen/Diedre - Standalone fic, focused on breeding - from House of Rivia - The kids are getting older, and Vesemir just isn't ready for that. So he takes action.

Goodbye To You - Geralt/Yennefer, Eskel/Yennefer - Side fic from House of Rivia - In order to address past mistakes, Geralt addresses a lingering issue in the present, and we see it's impact down the years. (Geralt brutally murders Yennefer, ya'll. Don't @ me, don't come inside if that ain't your thang.) Ciri is excited for her trip to Disneyworld. There's a new person in her sphere, and she'll be leaving Geralt behind in order to go. Yennefer pays the ultimate price. Many years later, Geralt shows his adult son just how close the apple falls from the tree.

#Fortheloveofdeaddove #house of rivia #dead dove do not eat #geralt/ciri #geralt/jaskier #read the tags on ao3 #don't scar yourself #the magnificent centuries #making room #getting settled #eskel/deidre

[pucksandpower]

hi natalia! i hope life has been treating you well and that you're doing amazing. i wanted to say, i love your account so very much! everytime i go through the f1 tags on here i'm alway searching for your username among the fics and safe to say is you have never ever disappointed me. when i first got into the fandom you were definitely one of the blogs that really hooked me in. oh girl you don't know how ecstatic i was going through your masterlist, i literally felt like i was camping in that one post going through everything in one night. still, even now i love going back and reading it again because that little spark of joy i feel clicking the links to every au is the reason i love to be on tumblr!

you never fail to deliver an insanely good level of world building like this is kind of surreal to me, because you give us such a fresh and wonderfully blissful take on social media au's. it's super cool to see you explore all types of medias like articles, blogs, twitter, instagram, youtube videos—i feel like you've used EVERYTHING girl. all your posts are sooo long and idt people realize how much work you have to put in to make a cohesive story like that?? + using all sorts of outlets ur an actual beast at this wow. and it's not just the way you deliver it, it's also all the ideas that you have. i'm a huge sucker for the deep lore ones that are like the ones involving racing teams and stuff. it's so great to see your takes on real time events and how it could've been if this or that happens. the readers are also of so much variety, i hope you keep doing that bc it adds a lot of potential and spice into the story. royal au is also sooo good! your account to me is basically girlhood personified. i'm always so immersed in it that i forget i'm reading an au... that really shows your effort in the work you put out. i can tell the time you spent crafting these pieces i mean WHO goes this far and wide if not pucksandpower?? ur the backbone of my mental health i would've gone in the trenches if it weren't for you... that's my mother ya'll. there is not one fic of yours that does not have me at the toes of my feet, all giddy to click the "keep reading" button. i wish for you to know that i, and i'm sure many others who follow you, really appreciate all the work you put in! i'm lowkey like suspicious with how real and professional some of the articles you make are bc how is that not something that would come out of an actual blog? 😭

AND OHHHMYGOOOD you are doing god's work for feeding my delusions on giving charles leclerc the team that he deserves. seeing the newey reader fic, that was when i knew you were ON to something like this girl is special she's doing all the research.. babe you could be the new damn chief tech officer if you wanted to i mean. you are operating in levels that we can't even comprehend?? one step ahead in everything. when i read your cl stuff in my heart i'm rooting for this man so bad and like if this isn't happening irl at least pucksandpower got my back like... you know what they say about delusions=manifestations so if we keep this up yall i believe it can be real trust me i've seen it in my head....

i'm sure there's a lot more that i want to say but anyways, i'm really glad that i ever found your blog and i look forward to future works you're gonna put out! cheering for you always and please take care of yourself, xx ❤️

Hi, my love! Thank you so much. I totally teared up reading this and I am not the slightest bit ashamed to admit it. Every single thing I post is crafted with love — I do it because I love working on them and because I love being able to make my fellow fans happy through my work. There truly is no more rewarding feeling. I have posted a whopping 119 fics/imagines/AUs on here and typing that number out really made me realize how crazy that is and how far I have come since I started this blog back in November

I can’t lie, sometimes the research and time I put into each of my works can feel overwhelming at first but I am always proud of the end product and especially happy to share it with you all. Some are lighthearted fun and I can have them completed in a few hours while others run deeper and can take me days upon days to finish. I truly want to build a mini immersive world through each of my AUs and I am so happy that you have been able to get that experience through them

Also I like to say that delusions make the world go round (and help keep us sports fans semi-sane) so I am more than happy to contribute on that end

Thank you again because your words mean so much to me! I can’t wait to share more work with you. Have an amazing day 🫶

[hopelesscrawl]

Yo

5 Questions 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @jcamilov06, thanks a bunch! :)

1. Are you named after anyone?

I'm not entirely sure, but my mom once told me that there was a song or a person that had my name and she liked it. Yeah. Dunno if it's true though.

2. When was the last time you cried?

(Trigger warning: Death)

Today in the morning, I was on my way to work and came across a dead fox and this fucked me really up tbh, I'm still emotionally agitated. I didn't even expect to cry that much but it was such a sad and heartbreaking sightning. And it made me think about other things as well, which made me cry even more.

3. Do you have kids?

No.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I do, but not with everyone, because some people don't get it or I'm afraid to seem like I'm mean or something.

5. What sports do you play/have played?

When I was a pre-teenager, I joined an athletics club and we were focused on running, long jump, javelin throw, weight training, and stuff like this. I stopped when I was around 16 because of school and other reasons. It's actually a shame and I definitely wanna do sports again but I need way more discipline.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

It depends, most of the times I caught myself always looking at their arms and I really don't know why, I kinda like it when I see people with strong arms. But I never thought about it, I just think the eyes or hair are also very noticeable at the first sight. The whole face I'd say.

7. What's your eye color?

Green with a slightly touch of grey

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Ugh, these are hard to compare, like I enjoy watching both but for my mental health I mostly prefer the happier ones because I get scared and saddened very easily.

9. Any special talents?

I don't know, my smelling sense is veeery sensitive, like so many people told me that they would never smell this or that and I always catch EVERYTHING, so bad smell is even worse for my sensitive nose than for others. So, if you need a sniffing dog... here I am. I don't know if that counts as a special talent, but it was the first and only thing that came to my mind.

10. Where were you born?

In Austria.

11. What are your hobbies?

Watching youtube, playing Minecraft, listening to music, dreaming, drawing, reading, ...

Do you have any pet?

We got a dog, her name's Zora :) and birds!

13. How tall are you?

170 cm / 5,5 ft

14. Favorite subject in school?

History and sometimes Music and Geography

15. Dream job?

I don't have one anymore, because I realized day by day that capitalism is a cruel bitch and most companies are just interested to exploit you. Most jobs don't apply to me, and I really dislike the whole working class society and the whole concept. But things that I'm interested in are pharmacy, working with animals (and helping them), art and maybe voice acting. I also love to play different roles and characters, let's see if I'm able to find something that isn't just totally exhausting and horrible.

I will tag @eluice @prosopagnosias @requiesticat and everyone else, feel free to do it if you want to! No pressure! Love ya ya'll.

#tagging game #ye

[artificialqueens]

Hiyaa ! I would like to request some Rajila, if thats not weird, could you perhaps make it magic-y ? If there's some things that prevent ya'll from writing the iconic duo, I dont mind actually. Also, new fic writer and a beginner here. Any tips for beginners ? Thanks in advanceee !!

Hello darling!! Welcome!! Sorry it’s taken me so long to respond—there’s been some Drama in my personal life, but I’m trying to get back to a normal routine. 💞

ANYWAY enough of my bullshit. This is a 100% totally perfect thing to request! And since it’s so possible to write multiple stories based on it, I recommend that you try doing something yourself too! 

Do I have tips? SO MANY TIPS! 

If you haven’t read the FAQ, that’s a great place to start and has some fantastic resources. If you don’t have the energy to go through all the text, scroll right to the bottom for a bunch of super useful links that explain things like how to submit, how to tag, etc. https://artificialqueens.tumblr.com/faq

For general encouragement and camaraderie with other writers, consider joining our Discord server(s). More info here but also, feel free to just DM me if you want to get an invite link to the writing server: https://artificialqueens.tumblr.com/discord (DM me at @veronicasanders because this account DMs go to some random British girl who hasn’t been on Tumblr since 2016.)

Check out the “writer tips” tag: https://artificialqueens.tumblr.com/tagged/writer%20tips

Check out this great post created by a former admin (HEY VIXEN! ARE YOU STILL AROUND? LOVE YOU!!!) but updated recently: https://artificialqueens.tumblr.com/post/148256298264/writing-resources

Most importantly: feel free to always, always ask any question you have! We're here to help!! XOXO

#asks #requests #faq #ca44en

[aheathen-conceivably]

7, 11, 16 ❤️

7. How many URLs have you had? What are the meanings behind them?

So I’ve only had two URLs….but really they’re the same. My first one was aheathenconcievably which is what I started with. I thought it was all fine and dandy until someone tagged me in a post intended for the actual aheathenconceivably (see the switching of the I and the E?). Well it was at that moment that I realized my username had been misspelled for months 🤣 so now I’m aheathen-conceivably.

And I think I’ve explained the meaning behind it elsewhere? So if you’ve read it already bear with me lol

It’s a reference to one of my favorite movie quotes in the 1975 Wicker Man. The protagonist (who’s a hyper religious Christian) accuses a character of being a pagan, to which he responds “A heathen, conceivably. Not, I hope, an unenlightened one.”

Not to bore ya’ll with my religious views, I’ve just always liked the line. I think it’s very funny in context of the film and such a flippant dismissal of fundamentalism. So I started saying it to folk and it stuck. My friend even bought me a wine glass that says “a heathen, conceivably” on it; so when I started my tumblr, it just seemed appropriate. And I thought no one else would have it yet…which if you just read the first bit of my answer you’ll know that I was wrong 😂

11. How do you edit your photos?

So this one took me a while to figure out, mostly because I felt like I needed to make up for my lack of reshade/gshade. I still sometimes feel like my posts would be more aesthetic and simblr worthy with gshade, but honestly learning new programs frustrates me, so I’ve decided not to do it.

Instead I rely on softerhaze’s lighting mods to really make my screenshots better. I also have a no-blur mod which makes everything nice and clear. Still, I use Fotor to edit all of my photos. I usually just use two filters to slightly increase the brightness and give those deep, contrasting colors that I like.

However, there are some pictures that I have to work a bit harder on. These are usually inside, since sims indoor lighting is so inconsistent and often VERY yellow. This is the worst with candles and off the grid lights. You can see in my early posts that I hadn’t quite figured out how to color correct these yet, but now I use Fotor to adjust it and make the colors more true to life.

16. Recreate someone else’s sim in your style.

Oh man, this is honestly the one question that I don't really have an answer to, mostly because I don't feel like I really have a sims style?? 😅

Whenever I'm in CAS I'm almost always messing around with outfits; sometimes hair, but really never genetics. Then I pretty much stick as close to the original game sims style as possible, except for face blush and eyelashes, because without those I think the sims look so odd.

But if anyone wants to send me a sim to recreate with whatever my sims style is to ya'll, free free!

#whew those were some long answers I’m sorry lol #but at this point y’all gotta know that’s how I roll 😂 #ask #answered #ask game #simblr ask game

[pinklem0nadepunk]

Welcome To The 54th Dimension, home to Horny Beasts

Well, not actually. But whatever lmao

Welcome to this small corner of the internet that is my Horny Blog, where I'll be sure to Post and/or Reblog whenever I feel like it. Read through this post before Interacting; its not that long, trust me.

Basic Info

Lets get this out of the way first: I'm currently 20yrs old. Going off of this, anyone under 18/Minors can get the fuck off this blog. Its a boundary of mine that has been crossed too many times now, sadly. Minors, I'm pretty sure theres resources out there for NSFW stuff that you can find if you really want to look for Horny Shit. Also being said, I don't give a shit if you're 17 or if you're turning 18 soon or whatever. If you're not over 18, get the fuck off this blog.

I'm OtherKin/FictionKin, Meaning That I don't ID as Human. A Good Majority of the Gay Sex Stuff I Post/RB Involves either Eldritch Tentacle Monsters or Robots, Mainly Because two of my Main Kins are Those

I'm a Trans Aro Fag who loves Men, Masc-Aligned Folks and people with Weird and Fucked-Up Genders; I'm also Polyam and I'm a Relationship Anarchist. I have a Qpp/Companion ( @waifuexecutable ) as well; I'm not Actively Looking for any other Partners or Play Partners, if Stuff Happens, it Happens lmao

I'm a Verse Service Top in Practice and a Verse Switch in Theory/Fantasy. This means that while I might Fantasize about bottoming once in a Blue Moon, I'd never do so irl. That shit is saved to Fantasy Only

Masculine/Neutral petnames/terms of endearment/ect are fine by me; just don't call me Daddy, thanks. While I'm fine with most terms, my favorites are Divine One/Your Highness/My Lord/Anything that connects to me being a Godlike being in a OtherKin Sense. If ya'll don't want to call me any of those, Pink works fine lmao

I have other blogs besides this one!! I Follow/Like from @certainpinkglitter, so if you See That URL in your Notes, that's Me!

Mutuals are free to Message Me on here and are More then Welcome to Ask for my Discord!!

Don't refer to me or my blog as cute, adorable, pretty, ect UNLESS I GAVE YOU PRIOR PERMISSION. It makes me uncomfortable

Also I'm Objectum! We Sexualize Computers and Machines here

Kinks and Horny Shit

If you ever want me to tag something, please ask!!

Good Shit

Monster Fucking and Tentacles

Collaring and Leashes

PetPlay

Bondage and Restraints

Degradation and Humiliation

Praise

Impact Play

Marking/Biting

Roleplaying

Breeding, minus Pregnancy Shit

Overstim

Denial and Edging

Knifeplay

Wax Play

Light CBT

Voyerism (With Prior Consent ofc)

Begging

Cockwarming

Dacryphilia

Body Worship

Boot/Shoe Worship

Worship/Heirophilia

Primal Play

Power Play

Special Circumstances/Maybe

CNC (I'm Kinda Picky about this Though)

Snuff (OFC IN FANTASY ONLY!! ITS MY TRAUMA AND I CAN PROCESS IT HOWEVER I WANT :3)

ForceMasc

Somnophilia

Consentual Intoxicated Sex

Anything thats not listed in my Soft/Hard Limits since I'm okay with Trying Out Most Things

Fuck No

God idk how to Word This but. Using the term 'Rape' when Dealing with CNC Stuff

Breathplay/Choking

Detrans/Misgendering/Sissy/Forced Feminization

Double Penetration (ie, two dicks in one hole)

Bodily Fluids (Urine, Scat, Blood and Spit in some cases)

MPreg/Pregnancy

CGL/Ageplay

Feet

Kinks relating to weight loss and weight gain

Raceplay, Incest, Necrophilia, Zoophilia/Beastiality/pedo bullshit

And weirdly enough, Latex. Mad Respect to those who are into latex, but its really not for me. Expecially latex masks. Those freak the fuck out of me

DNI List

I block pretty much on sight since I have notifs on for this blog, and I block freely as well. That being said:

Anyone under 18/Minors

CisHet Men

Blank Blogs and Blogs without their age in their bio/pinned post

TERFS, RadFems, 'gender-critical' folk, anti-neopronouns, LGBT+ Phobic People, people who don't see Aro/Ace Spectrum folks as LGBT, transmeds and transphobes

Detrans/Misgendering kink blogs and anyone who has these kinks

Ageplay/CGL Blogs and anyone who has these kinks

Sissy/Forced Fem blogs

Men DNI Blogs. I Might be Nonbinary but I'm Still a Man, in the Same Way you'd Refer to a Ship as She/Her

Misogynists and Those with Misogony Kinks

Racists, Pedos/NoMaps and their supporters, Zoophiles, Necrophiles, anti Sex Work; people who fetishize certain groups such as POC, trans and nb people, MLM/WLW fetishisers and the like

Weight Gain/Loss blogs, including Feeder/Feedee Blogs

Anti OtherKin/FictionKin/Kin In General folks

#remade the pinned post lmao #pinkposts #nsft #mlm nsft #nsft text #nsftumblr #queer nsft #trans nsft #minors dni #ftm nsft

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way From Home 8/8

Ya'll know the drill. I assume this isn't ya'll's first rodeo when it comes to reading this but alas, because it's a dark fic, I will post triggers again. MDNI, 18+ TRIGGERS: Implied/attempted suicide, self-harm, torture, brainwashing, physical abuse, mind fuckery, Stockholm syndrome-related mental gymnastics, trauma bonding, mentions of foster care, threatened/implied/referenced rape, EXTREMELY dubious consent, flashbacks of torture, female being drugged. Self-hate in this one :( If I miss, any let me know, please! DARK FIC!

This fic is almost coming to an end...kind of. At an end! This will be the first part of the series. After MW3 comes out, I can start posting part 2. Now I've decided on an ending and just know I'm not a believer in happy, fluffy endings because that's just not real life. Read my other Graves/Reader fic As the; Rush Comes to see ;) @josieguts because they asked to be tagged :)

Thanks for all the love! I was so scared putting this out there.

-

Back on base, you learned that each Shadow kept track of how many enemy combatants they’d killed on the inside of their vests. They’d taken yours and proudly added two tally marks before giving it back to you.

One Shadow mentioned the possibility of you being charged with war crimes. Graves mentioned not to worry about it. The military thought you were dead and his company was in the process of creating another identity for you. Now, once you were on paper in Shadow Company, you had to be a little more careful about how you handled that anger in the field.

War crimes? You?

What did Graves say again? Don’t worry about it. Just another reason to stick around.

-

So they taught you less lethal forms of combat. The training had you on a hair-trigger and while you responded immediately to threats or attempts to grab you with nonlethal interventions, it was made clear to you that any threat on your life should be met with deadly force.

It got to the point to where you could seriously hurt someone with just your hands despite your small size. Add a sidearm or even a knife and that made you deadlier. Enemy combatant men especially just rubbed you the wrong way. They way they looked at you. Despite your gear they knew you were female. They’d smirk until they met your glare. It had gotten to the point to where just looking at an enemy made them do a double take. Your glare had that much hatred in it.

But they never limited your access to weapons, sidearms, or knives. Because they wanted you alive.

“But no more killing people just because, ‘kay, darlin’?”

-

But you kept at it, your anger getting the better of you in the field more often than not. Before you knew it you counted 14 tally marks on the inside of your vest. Shadows had added each one proudly. The more the more pieces of shit you killed, the less pieces of shit were left alive on Earth according to them. Graves didn’t care, either. These were terrorists you were eliminating.

It wasn’t really a problem because you were technically dead. No one could trace those deaths back to you. If someone tried hard enough, they’d be traced back to the only female operator in Shadow Company. You didn’t have a real name. You stuck out though. You were a lot smaller than the rest of the crew and you were the only one with pink accents to your gear. Despite the heavy equipment, your female figure was still obvious.

While raising hell in the Middle East you’d picked up a nickname. Several, actually. Because you were female, Middle Eastern enemy combatants, mostly men, had of course attached genderized terms to the epithets they gave you. Angel of Death was one. But the one that stuck and the one that Shadow Company picked up and labeled you with? Ice Queen, IQ for short.

Naturally, these sexist Middle Eastern enemy soldiers had assumed you and Graves to be a married couple because they could not imagine a woman your age not being married and not being under the control of a man. Graves had picked up his own monicker: Blue-Eyed Devil. Blue eyes were rare out here and so Graves also stuck out in a way.

The Blue-Eyed Devil, his wife the Ice Queen, and his men, Shadow Company were seen as terrorists in these lands and all of you had bounties on your heads.

-

Graves got less physical with you because you were entirely cooperative. There was not even the slightest disobedience left in your body or your mind. As far as you knew you and Graves were one. You were so far gone from your previous self but you didn’t know it. You’d forgotten who you once were. That woman had died long ago.

Graves sometimes still got physical with you, though. Just not like he used to. Instead of inflicting pain to make you suffer, Graves inflicted pain to elicit pleasure.

Some nights Graves was almost brutal. He’d have you on your knees before him, his fist grasping your soft hair in such a strong grasp that side of your head ached when he eventually let you sleep. You’d feel tears escaping from your eyes which were shut so tight it almost hurt as he quite literally fucked your throat.

And you…

You

Got

Off

On

It.

Graves could hold you down in bed and fuck you so hard you stayed in bed a little longer because you were nervous that others would notice you walking differently.

But that was okay. Because whenever he pulled that shit, you'd edge him mercilessly. Over and over.

But sometimes he became physical in an entirely different way. Sometimes you and him engaged in that delicious, slow burn sex that lasted…and lasted. It would leave you both hot, sweaty, and drowsy. Graves would lie in bed with you and just hold you sometimes. He’d listen as your heartrate went from rapid and erratic to slow and lethargic. He liked resting his head on your chest in between your breasts as you laid on your back and tried to fight off sleep. But he was like a warm weighted blanket and more often than not sleep won.

Sleep would often conquer you both those nights.

The room you shared was always private. Off limits. But you couldn't help but wonder what you both looked like. You under Graves. Sometimes your legs would still be spread with him between him. Sometimes he would just lie over you, legs and all. His face, especially his cheekbones would be colored red from your recent sexual efforts. His hair tousled and ruffled. He'd be on your chest trying to catch his breath while you ran lazy fingers through that messy sex hair. Your fair skin wouldn't be able to hide your post-orgasm blush, either. Your other arm would be rubbing his arm while your long hair fanned out behind you on the bed.

-

That mask you wore around everyone but Graves? It started to come off around Shadows. You saw them as older brothers, really. And they protected you like no one’s business.

One of those edgy, overly eager enemy soldiers had gotten the drop on you once when you had been busy trying to pull intel off an enemy device.

Said enemy combatant had been able to knock you off your feet. And climbed on top of you. He got four punches in, shattering your goggles and making the fragments scatter while some scratched your face.

Four hits.

Shadows were never far behind. You were never alone. The enemy soldiers had a nickname for Shadows, too. Hellhounds. Shadows were quick to pull this man off you. They dragged him off somewhere and tortured him slow.

They’d let you kill him.

You’d taken off the shattered goggles. They hurt your face anyway seeing as this motherfucker had caused your face to be cut in several places from the sharp plastic when they broke from his punches. You’d stopped wearing a mask around Shadows long ago. You approached said enemy and shot him point blank.

He made the 15th kill. Shadows added one more tally to your vest when you got back to base.

-

Addicted. That was the only term you would use to describe how you felt towards Graves and how he felt towards you.

Neither of you could function without the other for long.

You had no idea what you would do if something happened to him. Or if for some reason you were taken from him.

While on base you got whatever the hell you wanted. That top-of-the-line computer to run code with your hacker Shadow friend? Bought and paid for. Noice-cancelling headphones to blast music through? Done. “Just don’t run your hearing, ‘kay, sweetheart? I need you sharp,” Graves said. Graves loved showing off that he had a female on his team that was all his and so when you wanted dark pink highlights in your hair? Go for it.

You remembered your past, dead identity reading about trauma bonding and wondering if Graves felt bad about all the shit he’d put your through before you started cooperating. Sometimes when a captor started feeling for a captive they might look back and feel…uncomfortable…unsettled with how they had treated said captive in the past. You noted how Graves had not inflicted any of the torture you’d suffered since you got to his black site. He’d had his men do it. And he’d turned away more than a few times preferring they drug you than keep inflicting pain.

Sometimes you’d catch Graves looking at you. Not in a sexual way. Not a predatory way. Not in an I own you type of way. You couldn’t quite describe it. But you wondered if it was because he missed your past self’s easy smile and joking manner. They way you could always pull him into conversation no matter that kind of shit day he’d had.

But that wasn’t you anymore and you had no plans of returning to that persona.

You still hadn’t smiled.

And you still barely talked.

-

“Konni Group,”

“What?”

“Konni Group,” Graves repeated.

“What’s that?” you asked, attempting to catch your breath. You were laid on his chest this time, feeling sleepy after one of those slow burn sex episodes.

“The reason might have to team up with an old foe,” Graves responded.

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #mw2 141

[kyurilin]

Got sentimental, decided the first few days of December are gonna have posts about the stories I completed this year and then maybe a post about other new ideas I've had!

So starting off with

Which is starting off STRONG, but it's the one I started posting in May. I promise I'm still working on it, it's uh. Very hard to write. Also I think I have to put an AU tag on it now

This is the first chapter story I've posted since October of 2017. Between trying to make myself write by just making long stories out of prompt blogs and switching to only typing in Google docs, I hadn't really worked out how to do chapters and didn't want to do multiple Google docs. Fun fact, this story was supposed to be a single chapter but it got way, WAY bigger than I expected.

As hard as it is to write for various reasons, it's one of my favorite things I've written like, ever. It's been a lot of effort to work on, but I've always wanted to write a struggle between two characters having to share the same body and never got it right, and I feel like I've finally hit a point where it works.

Considering my headcanons for these characters remain consistent and I keep accidentally linking all my stories, it was very hard not to make this somehow linked to Mic's Bullshit Life so the erasermic origin story is very subtly changed, but the All Might's Thicc Thighs Fan Club is still in existence. Go figure.

My favorite part of writing this story is dancing around the fact I have no idea where the actual story ends and as of chapter 373 of the manga I am very scared.

My least favorite part of writing this story is writing it. The first chapter plays out so well that I kind of use it as the baseline for how the chapters should flow, which is why I had to scrap most of chapter 5 and start over. It wasn't working and I'm VERY slowly getting through it now but my brain has exploded with ideas lately.

Writing the podcasts and getting to work with the dynamic of this friend group before any of the trauma was like, perfect. Originally the Hizashi and Oboro podcast was Oboro meeting Shouta's family for the first time but it was too much exposition so that was cut in favor of the sports festival bit. Expect at least one more podcast bit, but uh. It's not a happy one. There's an OLD story idea from before even Mic's Bullshit Life I had revolving around Mic's high school podcasts, and realizing I wanted to incorporate it into this story meant finally using it

I don't have much more "fun" trivia about this one because it's so sad but man. I've loved the idea since it came to me. I will continue to love this idea even when it makes me really sad. And I'm sorry ya'll have to put up with a non-existent update schedule because I'm not lying when I say I have SO many more stories in the works right now. But thanks to everyone who's read it so far ya'll are great.

#kyuri writes

[scriptlesssnake]

Introduction  • TW : British /hj

New to tumblr so I figure it only fair to give a small intro since ya'll can't see most my content yet and I'm not very used to this platform.

About Me

I go by he / him pronouns as a primary but accept stuff like it and neos. I'm 18 and a messy artist at heart that can't focus for more than 30m on a piece before wanting to scribble up the damn walls. Oh- and also I'm british. Horrifying, I know. /lh

I accept and comfortably use tone tags so don't be afraid to communicate that with me and whilst most my art will have a set background should you want a clear copy I can supply one no questions asked within reason (some commission pieces I cannot).

Posts

What you may see me posting : Furry Comics LGBTQ+ Warrior Cats Primarily this will be in artwork form but there's a few I'd like to diversify on that link very much to who I am... Starting with 'LGBTQ+' to be a tad more private about my life I won't go in-depth but my pronouns are he / it and I'm accepting of neos and whatever so long as ya ain't hurtin' nobody. I'm always open ta learn but please use tone tags to educate me since sometimes I can't tell if its a joke or serious. Then comics, I'm a huge fan and it breaks my heart to see all the damn clutter with webtoons, this and that and platforms I'm passionate in but I guess that's what I'm stuck with. I am working on a few comics I'll give some bios for below but they are my passion with my main genres being action, thriller, comedy and some romance as a side genre.

WIP Comics

Many of these don't currently have 'set' titles but I'll only list those that currently are probable ideas that I can accomplish. I will list them in vague prompt like forms because- I'm horrible at not spoiling so that's the best I can do.

Disabled bully takes out his anger on everyone around him and begins sneaking out at night to talk with a cat who tries to help him become a better person. The world begins to merge with another, trapping a queer couple at the epicentre with the government close on their heels.

The second prompt is actually a collaborative effort between myself and a friend and hence will also have a big focus on romance alongside the intrigue. I also hope to include some polyamorous representation as it progresses but don't let him know I told ya ;))

(My collaborator uses he/they pronouns please respect this should you refer to him, I will simply title him 'Bunny' for now.)

Thanks for reading this far, have a good one and feel free ta interact and tell me how to use here cuz I'm right daft ^-^

#new user #introduction #introductory post #first post #furry #lgbtq #lgbt #lgbtqia #queer #comics #comic artist #webtoons #tapas #furry fandom #furry artist #warrior cats #warriors #artist #artist intro #queer artist #art trades open #commissions open #art #oc #digital art #digital artist #persona #personal #new pfp #my persona

[dracereads]

June Wrap: Short, Sweet, and On Time For Once

Oh arbitrarily taking whatever deity you worship’s name in vain or in candor (whichever you prefer), I thought that MAY was a spectacle. I wish there was a way to describe the back half of June to the idiot writing about May. They might have actually cried.

Anyway, imagine a hobgoblin scurrying along with sticky notes and a stack of books away from a dumpster fire. That's your mental imagery of my June. However! HOWEVER, the important part is that we made it through unscathed. I can continue to crawl along into July now.

July Reading Goals: 1. Continue to make progress on the Alexis Hall book challenge front. 

2. Continue with the goal outlined in June Vs. May, which is to tdlr finish another DNF book 

3. Try to knock out at least 5 “new” entries on the potential entries list for the blog. 5 new books to blurb about after reading. 

4. Figure out what I’m going to do for conclusions of series, since I finished a whole series that I want to blog about finally? 

5. Organize and fix my broken tag page (again) 

How Many Books Did I Read Breakdown? Official number count is 10. As I write this I’m finishing up the last 20% of number 10, and I might squeeze in a 13th hour 11th book if I feel up to it. Probably not, but I can at least make some headway in July’s first book. 

I DNF busted (1) book this month! I started… 8 new books that I read fresh, and I finished 1 book that I’ve been reading  on the roundtable for a total of 10! Apparently my brain chose a new book who dis dopamine this month. Oh Well. 

June Vs May’s Reading Goals 1. Finish books simmering at the 3/4th mark. I sort of did this? I finished 1 book that I DNF’d at a little less than this point, and I finished a good one I had been procrastinating on. However, there are still more in that pile that need to get weeded out and taken care of. This goal continues for July. 

2. DNF Books– I started a DNF diary to help me sort out my thoughts and decide which books that I can probably finish, and which books are going to be sitting in my official DNF pile for a while TBH. I’m happy. 

Blogging Side I did about 3 weeks worth of a book challenge for June. I was really happy with what I managed to accomplish despite the fact I just lost the energy at the end to finish it. I might just throw together the last couple of images in the prompt together and publish them at a later date. Or at least the ones that I had ideas for, at any rate.

I have a couple of things floating around in my head that I want to do for July / August, so you have that to look forward to.  I definitely enjoyed getting cronked and reading one of my books on a DNF. I might make an evening of it this month and see what becomes of it. As always, if you stuck around to the end to put up with my bull-crap. I appreciate it unconditionally. I'll see ya'll real soon I think since wrap goes live on a (semi) newish project day.

#monthly wraps #blog updates #misc #hehehehehee I finished it