#i will draw every rogue in a dress one day.

[marxtheimpish]

jonathan crane out on the town!!!! he is 50 years old and his knees hurt

#jonathan crane #scarecrow dc #i will draw every rogue in a dress one day. #just you wait.

[arcielee]

dōna riña

Summary: You are enraptured by the prince and princess.  Paring: Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 2053 Warnings: Kissing, fingering, oral (female receiving). 18+, MINORS DNI. Author’s Note: Thank you to @aspen-carter​ for being my beta reader. Her stories are amazing, so go and enjoy her work! This is one of the poll options and it didn’t win, but I couldn’t help but write this anyway. I was inspired by @sapphire-writes​ (The Au Pair) pieces they have been working on and it literally would not leave my brain alone. Anyway, this is dedicated to @howyouloveyourdragon and @evattude for voting on this in that poll ♥ Italics are High Valyrian.  Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel 

The prince and the princess as newlyweds were insatiable, by all accounts.

The chamberlain of Dragonstone had advised to allow the space their unbound passion ceaselessly demanded, as their fervent dam broke and the outpour spilled into every corner, every crevice of the castle.

Rhaenyra had a shyness at first, with her cheeks pink from the salacious affection from her new husband and her whispered plea to take her to the marital bed, but Daemon would not be abated. The staff learned to recognize the lingering, lustful gaze of the Rogue Prince and would be quick to clear the room.  

While the others scurried away from the fire that bloomed between these two dragons, you could not help but be drawn to their flame, with an awe that radiated from your face whenever you caught sight of their fervor. You dared allow your eyes to dawdle past what was deemed appropriate for your station, just captivated by their beauty and mesmerized by their actions towards one another, the intimacy of their touch and the beauty of their old language that spilled from their lips in soft, honeyed tones. 

On this day, your steps were nimble towards their bedchamber with the clean bedclothes held against your chest. You had been informed that they were bathing, together of course, and it permitted a window of opportunity to tidy their quarters and change the linens. 

Inside the bedchamber, you saw the royal garments strewn across and the sheets bundled, with the musky scent of sweat and sex that was heavy in the air. You walked to draw the curtains aside, allowing the light and sea air to pass through; you then began to sort  the clothes and separate the ones that had been damaged with their removal and required mending and the ones that needed to be washed only. As you stripped the bed and gathered the soft silk, your eyes fluttered with the intoxicating smell of their lovemaking, and its potent smell made a warmth curl within your core. 

Gods, you sighed, setting the soiled linen on the velvet settee and began to place the fresh sheets. Your mind fluttered to another night when you had this same task and you had been late to come; your hands had trembled as you tried to tuck the corners, quickly, when the door had banged open. 

You had muffled a squeak, ducking behind the woven partition wall and peering carefully at the noise. 

It had been, of course, the prince and the princess, once again in an impassioned embrace and their lewd sounds filled the room; the suckling noises on the bare flesh from their ardent undressing. 

Your eyes widened as you watched them, your tongue wet your parted lips and you felt that same warmth, almost as ache to your core. You heard their hushed whispers exchanged between and your fingers began to trail your dress, dared to press over your clothed cunt and it caused the softest moan to spill. 

Everything stopped. 

The prince pulled away from Princess Rhaenyra, shirtless and flushed, with long strides to throw aside the partition and find you. You fell back, stumbling over the velvet stool and pressing yourself against the vanity. 

The fury etched on his brow lifted, aware that you were as white as his long tresses that spilled onto his shoulders. Behind him, you saw the princess move, who was still wearing her corset and shift, peering curiously. “What was she doing, husband?” She asked him in their foreign tongue.

“I believe we have a pervert amongst us,” he replied, a smirk on his lips. “I can smell her cunt from where I stand.”

You did not know what was being exchanged, you were only aware of the dark gaze of the prince in that moment; you fell forward, your knees bruising against the cobblestone. “My prince, my princess, forgive me,” you cried. “I was only changing the sheets and you…you startled me…and I…”

“Stop scaring her,” and the princess pressed from the bed, coming to your side with purposeful steps. “You may leave us,” she said to you, her voice sweet. 

Your eyes strained to focus on her, aware of how her nipples pebbled beneath her chemise; you focused on her blonde lashes, so light they seemed a golden halo around her lavender eyes that keenly watched your reaction. “Thank you, your grace,” you whispered and you were quick to leave. 

The days passed and reprimand never came from the chamberlain. You did not speak a word about the encounter, remaining dutiful to finish your chores assigned and trying to ease the small hitch of panic in your chest as you finished their bed. Your hands fluffed the feather pillows and your fingers traced the sheets, stopping at the edge to gather the old sheets and, before you could stop yourself, took a deep inhale of them.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

You jumped, the flutter of silk around you as you brought your arms sharp to your sides. You turned towards the voice and saw Prince Daemon Targaryen leaned against the doorframe, a smirk to his lips. 

You curtsy, your head bowed and your eyes bore into the silk spill on the cobblestone, unwilling to make eye contact. “My prince, forgive me,” you stammered for words, “I was only changing the sheets and I will be on my way-” 

“Must you frighten every handmaiden in Dragonstone?”

You had to look up, dared to turn towards the musical tone of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her silver curls were still damp at their ends, the wetness made them seem almost golden, and her skin was flushed pink, she was wearing only a chemise and no corset. Freshly washed, perhaps waiting for another one of the girls to help her dress but you knew they would not come unless summoned, unwillingly to disrupt them. 

“My princess,” you rasped.

“I believe this is the same handmaiden as before,” the prince responded and you saw how she tilted her head towards her husband, the curl of her pink lips to whatever he was saying to her. “I can smell her cunt from where I stand.”

The focus returned to you and you felt the burn in your cheeks from her gaze. “Indeed,” she murmured and began to walk towards you. 

You held your ground, eyes wide and forced yourself to swallow, but your throat was desperately dry. As she came closer, you cast your eyes downward and enjoyed the floral scent that wafted with her queenly presence. She leaned forward, her arms crossed behind her back and catching your eyes with her own lavender ones, with the same sweet or mischievous smile splayed on her face. “My dear girl,” her voice was low and sultry, her lilt clenched at your core. “You seem so very devoted to your queen to-be, is this correct?” 

You nodded your head quickly.

“And you would serve your queen however she requested?” 

“Of course,” you breathed, straightening to look at her. 

She hummed and pressed closer still, the warmth radiated from her and seemed to meld with the passion that churned in your lower abdomen. “Then allow me to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened still, your lips parted with shock and she gently cupped the back of your head, tilting her head and bringing her lips to touch yours. Her lips were soft and your hands trembled before they rested on her hips, your soft moan allowed her tongue to curl against your own with a languid pace to savor your taste. 

She pulled back and peered past you, only then did you remember that Prince Daemon was still present. You looked back at him, your pupils blown and your lips red, and he returned your gaze with a steely one, a fire burning behind his eyes as he moved towards you. 

The princess slipped her hand into your own, pulling you towards the bed you had just made and stopped to cup your cheeks, bringing your lips to hers again. 

You were bolder with your touch, one arm curling around her waist and pulling her closer against you, your other hand grabbed the back of her neck and your fingernails were gentle to scratch her skin. She almost purred in your mouth, her tongue running along your bottom lip before she nipped into it and broke away again.

You saw that the prince was laid across the bed and the princess pressed another quick kiss to your lips. “You may leave now and without any ill will,” she offered you an escape. “Or you may stay and serve your liege.”  

Your hands moved to untie your apron and the cotton fell to the floor; the princess smiled and helped with your laces until you both wore only your chemise, hers was silk and yours was cotton. 

She guided you to lay on the bed, until your back was pressed against Daemon, his bare chest warm on your backside, and you watched as Rhaenyra crawled onto the bed and towards you.

Your heart was aflutter from the soft touch of her hands on your thighs, her gentle nudge to spread your legs and you obliged her. There was a shiver of pleasure as her fingers traced the insides of your legs and you felt a shift behind you, the prince’s large hand grabbing the fabric and rucking it around your hips. 

The princess looked up through her lashes at you, her fingers slipping into your smallclothes and pulling them down; you lifted your hips so she could remove them, her exhale a tickle on your wet cunt. She watched you carefully for a moment and your own breath caught in your throat when she dipped forward, the touch of her tongue bloomed the blood to your cunt. 

You mewled pitiful from the sensation of her hot mouth, how it caused a blossom of pleasure that pulsated from your center and flittered to the ends of your begin, rushing back with each lap of her tongue. 

“She likes it,” the prince spoke, his low baritone reverberating against your back.

She stopped a moment, perhaps to respond but instead you leaned forward, capturing her mouth with your own with the desire to taste yourself on her lips. Her kiss was soft and warm, and her tongue gently flit across your upper life. “Lay back,” she breathed against your mouth and you felt the thick arm of the prince snake around your waist and pulled you back against him.

You gasped as she dipped forward again, her mouth pressing on the top of your slick folds; her quickened motion of her tongue against your pearl made you moan louder, your back arching against the prince. 

He hummed and his hold on your waist relaxed; the princess peered up towards him once more. “Will you help me, husband?”

You felt the warmth of his palm press against your stomach and move to rest above the patch of your pubic curls, his fingers traced your slit and then pressed against your nub. You jumped from his touch and his chin rested on your shoulder, his warm breath tickled your ear. 

Her hands gripped into the softness of your thigh to hold you still and you felt the sinful curl of her finger within you. 

Your cries grow wanton and she added a second finger to the sensual tactician against the sweet spot within you. “Do you like this, sweet girl?” She breathed into your cunt. 

“Y-yes, my princess,” you stammered.

The prince stopped his ministrations and brought his fingers as a sharp slap against your clit. You cried out, a mixture of pleasure and pain. “That is your queen.”

“Yes, my queen,” you corrected yourself, tears brimming the corners of your eyes. “Forgive me, my queen…” 

Your words trailed off as the first wave of pleasure began to crest, the simultaneous actions of both the prince and the princess brought your climax with a fury that drew the breath from your lungs, an anguished cry with your release. Your gaze fell towards the princess, who withdrew her fingers and brought them to her lips; you were enchanted by her perfect pink tongue that curled around her digits. 

She smiled at you, still sweet, still mischievous, and all she said is, “Good girl.”

#daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra x you #daemon x rhaenyra x reader #fem reader #daemyra #daemyra x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd fanfiction #hotd smut

[12pt-times-new-roman]

IT'S MIGHTY NEIN DAY LET'S GOOOO

god, the SET, the COSTUMES, travis in full half-orc makeup — fucking gorgeous. but I do have the sneaking feeling that Matt is dressed as young Ludinus.......

The time: seven years after the peace treaty that ended the War of Ash and Light, immediately after the ignition of the Malleus Key. The level: 20. The setting: the Encanter's Rest, Blightshore, where Caleb and Beauregard have landed.

In the midst of this, Caleb has a terrifying realization: if his own collar has been disenchanted, what others have been, too? But Beau's priority is to get to Yasha, who was with Caduceus, and Caleb teleports them there with a chipped piece of gravestone.

The Blooming Grove is healthier than they've ever seen it, and the curse of the Savalirwood has been driven away slightly. Caduceus' hair is a vibrant pink again.

"We made it to the Malleus Key like we planned, but nothing ended as we planned. Da'leth brought down a champion of the Matron, into the heart of the dig site, and he did something — our vision went white, we woke up in a different part of the world —" "Long story short, everything's fucked. I think we need to rally the troupe."

Next stop: the deck of the Nein Heroez, docked in Nicodranas.

Fjord update: his level 20 multiclass is warlock 14/paladin 6, and holy fuck his new art—

Stone's Throw has acquired multiple new ships, including the Rumblecusp Express and the Sapphire of the Sea.

As they travel through Nicodranas toward Veth, they catch wind of something having spooked sea-beasts into the streets.

"I'm sorry, the place is a mess, the world has been turned upside down—" "Wait, something happened here too? What's wrong?" "I have a teenager!"

They sit down to have a conversation, alongside Yeza.

"Uh... Cerberus Assembly, global fuckery, the moon is not where it's supposed to be, Trent may not be imprisoned anymore — and we're getting the Nein back together to deal with it."

Jester update: she took flash recall as her 19th level feat.

Jester attempts to scry on Trent and it doesn't work. They immediately assume that he's broken out and has an amulet, but it could still be that the entire prison is warded against scrying.

"Caleb, do you need an amulet so he can't look in on you?" "Let him come." that's what we call character development!

The Nein, in true Nein fashion, decide to tackle the immediate problem first, rather than trying to push the moon back into space when they don't really know anything about it. Trent joined with Ludinus is far more dangerous than Ludinus on his own, so they'll take down Trent first and play whack-a-mole with the rest of the Assembly later.

Veth isn't sure if she should go with them, but Luc slams his door open — "mom, don't be a coward! You do this every time! You have to be an adventurer for everyone, that's our calling! You can ground me all you want, but I learned it from you!"

Caleb cuts in. "Young man, you do not take your mother's love for granted. Do you understand me?"

They start to leave, but Veth doesn't want to. Caleb draws the circle to the Cobalt Soul archive in Rexxentrum, he steps through, the last to go — and Luc, rogue 5/wizard 3, dashes through at the last second!!

The way the entirety of the Mighty Nein turns on Luc the second they realize he's there and are so protective of him is fucking adorable. Beau challenges him to hit her with a spell, but ol' uncle Caleb counters it and puts him in a wall of force. "We are dealing with people who could kill you with a blink. You are not ready. You are talented, and I'm proud of you, but you're not ready." Luc is out here using Sam's 22 charisma to convince everyone — including Caduecus — to let him stay. Caleb agrees, too, on one condition: that Luc will stay under his eye at every moment, and that he reserves the right to teleport Luc back home the second it becomes too dangerous.

On the upside, it appears that the teleportation circles in the Cobalt Soul are still working.

Since the solstice, the Cobalt Soul has closed its archive doors. They discovered that the master vault has had its wards interfered with and has actually been infiltrated and trapped from within — with Yudala Fon meeting with the king, they ask the Nein to investigate.

Caleb update: Fortune's Favor is his second-level spell mastery choice.

The hallway to the vault leads to a massive adamantine door covered in runes — though it would usually glow blue upon approach, the runes are cold and lifeless. It creaks open without issue.

Inside is a storage room filled with various chained crates, tomes, display cases, and other such things.

In the middle of the floor is a toothy mouth. "Welcome, Bren. You are nothing if not reliable. It feels good to be free — have had so much time to ponder. I can now see how solitude forged you, I now know the greatness that can come from endless quiet and conjecture. At the edges of my mind, many seek me in silence. I wonder If any partnership would meet my standards. I have much to thank you for, my exemplary pupil. It is only fitting you have now taught me, and I return renewed. I must confirm my theories, for they keep many secrets beneath this library. You are welcome to learn what I have, Bren." The magic mouth spell vanishes.

At the far end of the room is a figure, crouched — Aggy, a dwarvish monk (way of the drunken fist, presumably), level 5, played by Wembly Arena's announcer Daniel! The monk was sent into the archive ahead of them, but got caught in some kind of explosion. "Without being too rude, who the living fuck are you?"

Beau update: She got promoted to High Monk!

Fjord uses see invisibility, revealing a handle on the wall that was previously hidden. Aggy goes and headbutts it, inadvertently turning the lever and opening a secret door in the wall.

Through this new door, another mouth appears. "We have all done terrible things, Bren, and we all must be punished for them. I still pay the price, and so too shall he. The Shadowhand must step into his own might. I will tell the Bright Queen of his betrayal, and in this, he shall be made free to follow your path of pain. Only in suffering are we made paragon, and I will make you better; you will be my proudest achievement."

The passage leads to a series of terraced platforms that then lead to a room covered in lockboxes. Each is hidden with invisibility, and protected by various wards.

Aggy, brazenly running down the passageway and sticking his hand on one of the lockboxes, gets instantly killed by a disintegrate.

One of the lockboxes is slightly ajar, and no longer has a trap on it; the inside is empty except for a piece of paper, and another magic mouth appears. "To bleed is to scab, to break is to mend stronger, to hurt is to learn; but recklessness will only leave you dead and forgotten. I was called here to take of its blessing and release one of its forgotten nightmares; arrogance thinks it can use me, but I am the master here. I am he who feeds on ambition, he who drinks of promise and leaves nothing unearned." He tells Caleb to meet him at the ruins of his childhood home — "dinner will be waiting."

Beau comforts Caleb in the way that she does. "You've worked really hard to overcome this. You are above this." "You are right. I don't care that he taunts me. But he doesn't need to be breathing anymore."

With at nat20 plus true seeing, Beau can see the name of what each lockbox contains. The two that were ajar read "adrenus sap," a rare unholy ichor distilled for use in abyssal rituals to bind servants of the abyss or undeath to their domains, or to ensnare such creatures; and "afterimentahl," an arcane binding stone used to capture powerful beings for study, syphoning, or experimentation. The ones known typically contain an entity from the Calamity or before, but the process of creating them has been lost.

back from break and so ready to watch them finally kill this motherfucker—

They put up the tower to sleep for the night, and cast a heroes' feast preemptively.

Caleb uses wish to cast simulacrum on himself to create a copy. He then gives Luc his luck stone, re-attunes his ring of evasion, and casts mind blank on himself before going to bed.

And with a night's rest, Caleb can prepare another 9th level spell or can keep wish — he didn't even have to roll for it because he duplicated a spell! 20th level wizards are a hell of a thing.

With potions drank, fog clouds created, and a heroes' feast had, the Nein plus Luc teleport to Blumenthal.

As they approach, Caleb feels the ghost of his grief, but he has come to terms with it. The house that stands here looks exactly like his childhood home. "I have done what I have needed to do in this world. If I don't walk from this, I need you to get that boy to safety."

Inside, there is laughter — Una's, followed by Leofric's, mingled with Trent's. Caleb walks in, followed by Jester and Fjord. With divine sense, Fjord reads both Una and Leofric as undead. Caleb's simulacrum is polymorphed into a sabertooth to protect Luc. The rest flank the house and watch through the windows.

Breakfast is set at the table. There are seven empty chairs.

"Mother, don't you think it's strange, you haven't changed one iota?" "Not at all. He has given us a second chance." With an insight check, Caleb sees them for what they are: just bodies, reanimated.

Jester leans, says "I'm sorry" to Caleb — and casts turn undead. Both parents fail their saves, fall back. Trent's face falls. "Wery well, then. Perhaps the lesson should start with me." The entire house explodes, but their preparation reduces the damage significantly, and before them is Trent Ikithon, floating up in the air — and where Una and Leofric were are two ghoulish corpses.

time for initiative and combat updates!

Trent's spell save DC is 22. That's just about on-par for a 20th-level wizard with money; a 22 INT plus a robe of the archmagi gets him there, and an arcane grimoire can compensate for no robe or a 20 INT.

Trent can use 2 legendary actions to cast a spell.

Caleb Prime: *downed* Caleb 2: immediately turns into a fucking t-rex

Luc casts see invisibility and reveals that Trent's avatar is an illusory duplicate, and the real Trent is crouched behind a tree like a little fucking creep.

After a chain lightning, a meteor swarm that did higher-than-average damage, and a massive house explosion, everyone's back to full with a mass heal! So with two clerics in the party with a 9th level each, plus a guaranteed divine intervention that can duplicate a mass heal, these fuckers have a latent health pool of 2800 hit points.

Beau update: Her 19th level feat is mobile.

In an antimagic field, Trent is cowering — "but this is why the intelligent prepare. Omentis, be unleashed." The field doesn't suppress artifacts, and he breaks the afterimentahl against his chest. From where he stands, an orb of pitch darkness grows, and a 40-foot entity made of purplish and black shadow, with four arms and glowing purple orbs begins to stalk toward Blumenthal itself.

Seeing that, Caleb plants one palm, two palms on the ground — and uses shapechange to transform into Gelidon, the Nightmare in Ivory.

KAIJU FIGHT!!

and then, just to top it all off, Luc casts enlarge on the fucking t-rex!

"Arty, if there's ever a time we needed you—" Jester uses gate to pull Artagan out of the feywild and right into this fucking kaiju fight. "Don't worry, Jester, I've got y—oh, what have you brought me into?! Really?!"

An archfey, an ancient dragon, a giant t-rex, and the avatar of an abyssal archfiend tethered to the soul of a 20th-level archmage walk into a bar...

With holy weapon active, Yasha does 168 damage in a turn without a crit.

Its full name is Omentis, Scion of Ruin. Everyone within 60 feet gets hit with its "void hunger," automatically takes necrotic damage at the top of its turn. It also has "aura of oblivion," a beam that emits from its face and deals massive (as in, 150 points on a failed save) force damage. Its AC is 24, and it is considered undead.

With his passive perception, Caleb notices that the crystal that Trent shattered is still visible in its chest.

Luc notices and targets the artifact, which causes the shadow holding the creature together to flicker.

Caduceus uses divine intervention (which automatically succeeds) to cause the creature's shadow to become translucent, so that they can see the artifact clearly within it. In the center, with the crystal at his heart, is the shadowy echo of Trent, hanging like a puppet.

what is it with live shows and nat20s at crucial story moments???

With a nat20 strength check, Beau rips the heart from the creature. All the shadows swirl around it and get pulled back into the egg, and as it reforms, Trent himself gets pulled, screaming, into it — Beau tosses it up, Gelidon catches it and smashes it into the ground.

As the dust settles, the people of Blumenthal gather, and the sun begins to rise.

The heart remains intact, but sealed forever with Trent inside it.

Caleb uses demiplane — which opens into a familiar nine-sided tower — to seal the heart away for..... future use.

They decide that after all this, Luc deserves a party — not least of all to celebrate Fjord and Jester's engagement!

At the end of it all, Caleb uses the tower to cook a feast for all of Blumenthal.

"While this was a singular victory, it is still the beginning of much work to be done."

#critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role liveblog #note watches critrole #mighty nein #critical role c2 #critical role c2 spoilers #echoes of the solstice #long post #very long post

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Another cute scene I thought of:

Kitty: what did you guys get on question 6?

Pietro: I got 7

Wanda: I got 9

Kitty: Damn, I got 42, guess I flunked this math quiz… Reader, what did you get?

Reader, with this expression 🫠: I got George Washington…

-Later-

Professor Xavier (who’s favorite student definitely isn’t reader, what are you talking about?): I got your tests back. Except for Readers, sadly your test…drowned. You get an A though

- ❤️ Anon

🤣😂😅 Oh dear... I can see that happening! But I raise you this: What if Reader actually was correct? Now that would be hilarious 😆...

• I headcanon Reader is great with things like algebra and multiplication, just maybe not word questions in math or English

• Reader is good with drawing notes, charts, and diagrams/pictures for science, biology and anatomy classes. Scarily accurate, in a way, at least compared to the other teens closer to their age

• Reader has weaker arms, but really strong legs. They're a good defense on sports teams, so they're more likely to block someone or hit/kick/strike the ball to someone else (they accidentally kicked someone in the shin, hard enough for then to fall over in agony)

• Reader is good at baking/cooking. They tend to be okay with measurements, but struggle a bit when it comes to dry vs. wet ingredients and diffent oven temperatures

• I'm going to say the campus appears similar to a boarding school: Everyone lives there, basically

• Reader does not have a roommate; they are invited to stay over with others, though... or have a few platonic yans invite themselves to stay over with Reader in their room

• The town near the school (it's a few miles out) is pretty much like a ghost town, save for a few odd individuals... There are places to go for field trips, such as a science and history museum, an aquarium, an art museum, and some landmarks/environments such as a mountain range, the beach/coast, and a few forests...

• The Town has a few places to visit, for food or clothes or movies, it's just... really, really quiet... If it weren't for the few people living there, one would think they're in the middle of nowhere...

• Is there a uniform? Not exactly? Everyone has to wear a wristband that states their name and school number, but otherwise? There isn't much of a dress code

• The campus has dorms, it has a few built-in cafes and galleries, as well as an auditorium, gymnasium, pool, garden, library, and a few other places... (Don't look beneath the /&>=# &!))... )

• The students and teachers have their own living areas and recreational rooms. Sometimes the students throw large sleepovers in one or two of their rec rooms, because no one's room is big enough to hold everyone; Reader, once they join the school, is being invited to these sleepovers almost every time

• The students, the mutants ones, have their mutations. Sometimes they have to take a day or two off, due to them (namely those who have feral mutations and instincts, those with mind-reading or telepathy, those with specific needs where their mutation has to be controlled, ex. Rogue wearing gloves, Scott wearing glasses, etc.)

• Reader has a mutation, but for some unknown reason, it isn't showing or known to the students or teachers... They've had tests done and had the feral mutants see if they can scent the X-gene from them (it causes a distinct scent), and so far Reader has passed each test... It's confusing for a lot of them...

• There is a dark secret buried beneath everything, something pulling a few characters' strings and forcing paths and actions... But this secret keeps itself hidden and unknown... What I can say, without spoiling anything, is that it's not one person who's behind it... It's several...

And these are a few fun facts to know about the 📒Mutant High🧪 AU!

(Thank you, ❤ Anon, or Bee🐝!) (Or BeaBee🐝!)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #📒mutant high🧪 au

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

Damage Gets Done - SAS Rogue Heroes x OC - Chapter 8

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 |-| Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Summary: Tension runs high as the SAS carries out a potentially disastrous raid on Benghazi

Relationships: L Detachment x Platonic!OC, eventual Reg Seekings x OC

Warnings: Language, descriptions of graphic violence, implied death, Randolph Churchill

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags: @20th-centu-fairy-girl @trenchenjoyer @dcyllom @footprintsinthesxnd

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Diana crouched down to eye level with the jeep's side mirror, squinting against the sun that reflected in the glass behind her as she did her best to tuck every last curl safely away beneath the headscarf she had shrouded herself in. Their raid on Benghazi was fast approaching, and it had been decided amongst the group that the easiest way to smuggle her into the city would be to dress her like a regular civilian, rather than attempt to explain away her military garb.

Once she had finished the task, pinning back one last curl that simply would not stay put on its own, she had moved to stand, but the sight of her own reflection gave her pause. It was rare that Diana remembered much of anything of her mother, but some days she looked so remarkably like her that it seemed to draw long-buried memories back to the surface. She had those same dark eyes, the same curve of the lips and point of the nose. She could almost half-remember sitting in her mother's lap as she put on her hijab each morning, the calming tones of her singing keeping the child from getting in the way. When she was herself, the similarities were hardly noticeable. But now that she dressed like her mother too, those brief, hard years were becoming visible again in the back of her mind, as if watching on through a veil.

"Hey," Jim Almond's voice rang out behind her. Springing upwards to resume her regular posture, she glanced at him with a welcoming smile. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Diana nodded assuringly. "Yeah, I just... I look like my mother." She grinned at the confession, and he couldn't help but return the smile. Jim squeezed her shoulder affectionately, and their heads both turned as Stirling's voice came from over by the well where he stood with Randolph Churchill. Since the Prime Minister's son had arrived, she had managed to avoid speaking to the man, but it appeared Stirling was not going to make it easy on her.

"You've been summoned, milady," Almonds teased, and she slugged him gently in the shoulder, kicking up sand as she marched over.

"Oi," Diana greeted, tipping an imaginary hat to Stirling as she rested a hip against the side of the well.

"Diana, it seems you haven't yet been introduced to Mr Randolph Churchill, here," David spoke. His tone was jovial, friendly, but she could tell he was teasing her, and sent him a sideways look as Churchill reached for her hand, pressing dry lips against the back of her palm. She did not attempt to disguise her grimace, especially as she heard Pat and Johnny chuckling at her discomfort from back by the truck.

"A pleasure," He greeted, maintaining his attempt at a charming smile even as he noticed her wiping the back of her hand against her trousers.

"Winston's boy, eh?"

"... The Prime Minister. Yes."

She shrugged. "Not my Prime Minister."

Randolph let out something between a huff and a laugh. "Oh, you didn't vote Labour, did you?"

Diana's brow raised as she lit one of the cigarettes in her pocket. "I'm Egyptian, Randy."

"Right, yes... Of course... You're a rather striking young lady, you know."

Stirling almost choked on the dirty water he had pulled from the well as he tried not to laugh, and she stomped hard on his foot, digging in her heel. "Yes. I do know. Is that all?" When neither of the men spoke, she nodded firmly, patting Stirling on the shoulder. "Wonderful exercise, thanks David."

Pat was still laughing at her as she returned to the others, his enjoyment only enhanced as she flipped him off, propping herself against the back of the lorry with her elbows.

"He liked you," Cooper teased, a boyish grin overtaking his expression as he jammed a fresh cartridge of bullets into his gun. Beside him, Reg didn't say a word, his brow furrowed, expression thunderous, the only sound coming from him the occasional indecipherable grumble.

"Fuck off," She sang, holding her cigarette between her teeth as she sifted through the bullets they had brought to fill the small pistol she had been given to conceal on her person. To go with her civilian costume, Sadler had acquired her own car - a creaky, unassuming thing with a bad paint job, but an almost brand-new engine that could get her out of a tight spot should the need arise. It was risky, to enter Benghazi alone, to separate herself from the rest of the group, but once inside the walls she would find them again, and finally receive a gun that was worth a damn.

Seekings had scarcely looked away from his weapons since the moment of her approach, checking and re-checking every gun and knife he had on his person as a permanent scowl etched his face. His hat was resting in the truck bed beside Diana, and she noticed, seizing it by the visor and planting it firmly onto his head, forcefully capturing his attention. A smile curled the corner of her lips, and he couldn't help but do the same, finally able to take in her new appearance up close. He missed her hair - the only part of her wild enough to reflect the spirit inside. She looked wrong without it, every inch hidden from the world.

"Chin up, soldier," She teased. Reg hated this plan. He hated it more than he'd ever hated any of Stirling's batshit insane ideas before.

They were putting Diana in danger. More danger than they ever had before. She would take her own car into Benghazi, alone, with nothing but a tiny pistol to protect herself and a cache of explosives hidden under her seat. They were relying on nothing but her pretty face and Arabic tongue to get her into a building none of the others would dare try to breach for fear of a bullet to the skull. And worst of all, she didn't seem to care.

"You're good on the plan?" He prodded.

Diana let out a chuckle at his uncharacteristic concern. "All good."

There was no certainty they'd all see each other again after tonight. And one question plagued Reg - one question he ached to know the answer to yet could never bring himself to ask. Did she remember that night in Stirling's flat? The night she had spent sitting on the hardwood floor in that wonderful dress, the night she had kissed his bruised knuckles and smiled at him and made him feel all kinds of confusing things. If only she cared as much for herself as he did.

In order to avoid any suspicion, Diana was ordered to pass the checkpoint into the port city an hour before the others - a measure taken to dispel any possible assumption that they may be arriving together, but an altogether risky move. If the others were intercepted at the border, she would be in Benghazi alone, forced to carry out her objective and escape without any backup whatsoever. In the Great War, General Hannigan had made his reputation through acts of reckless daring, and it seemed he had passed this lack of regard for self-preservation onto his daughter. A quiet fell over the small group as the time came for her departure, a duffel bag of explosives hidden in a compartment Sadler had hollowed out beneath her seat. Diana seemed unphased, quickly affirming their rendezvous point with Stirling, but the others watched on in grim silence, hesitant to even wish her good luck for fear of jinxing their fortunes. They all knew there was a chance that this could be the last time they were all together. It wasn't an impossibility. They'd lost Eoin. They'd lost Jock.

Tonight had the opportunity to ruin everything.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The desert road unfurled itself before her, the wheels of the car kicking up sand as Diana streaked across the landscape, radio tuned to a local station as she sang off-key to an Arabic cover of a Billie Holiday song, occasionally interrupted by static from the terrible reception all the way out here.

It was not until the checkpoint came into view that she realised she was driving altogether much too fast, and the breaks let out a terrible shriek as Diana attempted to slow down, jostling the wooden barrier with the bonnet as she rolled to a clumsy stop. Now she remembered why Stirling had initially appeared so horrified at the prospect of letting her drive herself.

One of the soldiers marched up to her window, knocking harshly on the glass until she rolled it down to let him speak. He scolded her in a flurry of Italian that she only partially understood, and Diana attempted to thrust her forged papers at him, matching the man's irritated tone in her own rambling Arabic, spouting meaningless nonsense whenever she ran out of things to say once she as confident he didn't understand a word.

The soldier examined her papers, occasionally asking her questions as he peered closely at the writing. Diana could only decipher a few words here and there - certainly not enough to gauge the soldier's meaning - and so she continued her meaningless tirade in the hopes of moving things on.

"I really like this song!" She declared, brow furrowed, tone angered as she pointed sharply at the radio, the soldier's expression growing more confused by the minute as he attempted to decipher what the frustrated woman was yelling at him. "It's very good! But I'd like to get moving, I'm very hungry!"

"Cosa?" The soldier asked, still clutching her papers.

Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes, reaching out and tearing the document from his grip. "Is this really the best your lot could do? Fucking embarrassing really." His mouth hung open, gaping as he found himself helpless to decipher a word of her ranting. With a pointed gesture towards the barrier, she finally seemed to get through to the man, who hurriedly ordered for her to be let through.

Nodding to the soldier in mock appreciation, Diana cranked the radio back up to full volume as she passed, resuming her sing-along as she trundled towards Benghazi, taking extra care to regulate her usually reckless driving as she entered the pedestrian-littered streets. It wasn't entirely unheard of to see a woman like her driving alone here, but just unusual enough to ensure that, whenever she slowed down or stopped for traffic, she would hear a wolf whistle or jeer from some passer-by. It was nothing Diana hadn't heard before, but still, her grip on the steering wheel tightened with agitation each time.

Benghazi was littered with administrative buildings and headquarters for the Nazi and Italian forces, with guards at every entrance. This was not a problem. Diana didn't need an entrance. One of the key Italian admin buildings had a side wall facing a nearby alleyway, used almost exclusively by street vendors and tourists, when there were any. But there was not a guard in sight, for the wall had no doorways or windows that could be used for infiltration. Engine rumbling to a stop, she yanked the gearstick, pulling in to park along the side of the alleyway. Rummaging below her seat, Diana retrieved the explosives she had been given, concealing them in a small compartment she had sewn into the bottom of her handbag, hidden beneath all manner of day-to-day belongings.

The only explosive she left behind was a primed Lewes bomb, prying open a loose seam in the driver's seat cushion with her fingernails and burrowing it deep inside among the stuffing. Worst case scenario, the car would be removed by guards hoping to keep the perimeter clear, and provide a helpful distraction come nightfall.

Best case scenario, this explosion would rip a hole straight through the building, killing dozens.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moment their truck pulled to a stop, Reg was on the lookout, his gaze scouring their surroundings for any sign of Diana among the sparse, moving crowds of civilians.

"Hey," Almonds hushed voice reached out to him as they clambered out of the truck bed. "She's not coming. Stirling told her not to be seen with us until it's time to go." Reg almost questioned this - questioned why, of all things, Jim knew he was searching for Diana. But it struck him as best not to ask, best not to come face to face with his own weakness that apparently everyone could see. This wasn't the time for it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Diana had spent her afternoon in a nearby cafe, sipping on herbal tea to calm the beating of her nervous heart as she waited for nightfall, pretending to read a book as she watched the soldiers walking around in her peripherals. Anyone who had paid enough attention would have noticed that she hadn't turned the page in almost half an hour, but there were hundreds of women in Benghazi who looked just like her. She was utterly unremarkable, utterly unworthy of notice. The disguise was working wonders.

But darkness was falling. And the longer she stayed, the more suspicious her presence would become. Ensuring her headscarf was still on properly, Diana departed, shoving her book back in her bag as it covered the concealed explosives within. She prayed the carefulness with which she handled the bag had not been too obvious as she made her departure, slipping away down a nearby side street.

The car was still there. She made a mental note as she passed, tossing a crumbled paper bag containing a Lewes bomb into a nearby trashcan, one of many lining the back wall of another administrative building. Laying individual charges was never going to do a significant amount of damage, but it would certainly provide ample distraction. If the guards were too busy chasing after exploding bins and cars, they would miss the real targets.

She wanted a cigarette, but frankly, the idea of smoking one so close to a bag full of bombs made her nervous. Diana was just about to throw out her matchbook as a precaution when a lone guard turned the corner towards her, rifle slung lazily over his shoulder, gaze pinned on her from the moment he entered the space.

"What are you doing?" He called, eyeing the matches in her hand with suspicion. His Italian accent was heavy, but his English wasn't half bad. He thought she was a local - that was good, he was searching for some in-between dialect to bridge the language barrier between himself and the Libyans.

"Smoke break," Diana replied simply, trying to maintain the accent of her mother tongue even as she spoke her second language. It was difficult - she had been taught Arabic by Egyptians and English by the Brits, it was not a line she was used to blurring.

The guard flicked his wrist, beckoning her closer as he reached into his breast pocket for a proper lighter. As she plucked a cigarette from the battered box in her bag, he held the flame up to her, just far away enough that she had to lean in towards his chest, dipping her chin to meet it. She could feel his eyes on her, tracing every inch of her face and quickly travelling downwards. His hand reached up, knuckle brushing lightly against her cheek. Diana felt the urge to recoil, nausea dredging up the pitifully sparse contents of her stomach. Instead, she pulled herself back up to full height, a pleasant smile curling her lips as she took a puff of smoke.

"Pretty girl like you shouldn't be out here alone," The guard tutted, a glint of lust in his eye that made her want to vomit straight onto his boots. "Anything could happen."

She let out an easy laugh, shaking her head slightly. "Well, then it's a good thing I have your gun, isn't it?"

He paused for a moment, head tilting to the side as he squinted in confusion. "...What?"

Diana's hand shot out at his face, not even pausing to drop the cigarette, its burning butt scorching the flesh of the soldier's cheek as her fingernails met his eyes, scratching painfully at his corneas. Before the man could scream, her free hand, balled into a tight fist, punched him sharply in the windpipe, and the guard choked for breath, staggering backwards as blood began to run down his face from where her nails had taken chunks out of his eyelids.

Blinded and winded, he groped for his rifle, but Diana seized it in an instant, a kick to the stomach sending him toppling backwards onto the ground. If she had shot him, she would've drawn half the guards in the port. Besides, this was more fun.

"Fascist fuck," She muttered, tearing off her headscarf, curls erupting outwards like a lion's mane as she balled up the fabric, stuffing it down into the guard's mouth so he couldn't speak. With the pocket knife tucked in her boot, she sliced off one of the straps on her bag, using the long strip of fabric to bind the man's hands behind his back. The guard whimpered helplessly, sounds muffled by the fabric that he found himself unable to spit out as his feet lashed out, kicking wildly but never landing a blow, his vision still blurred and useless in the dark.

Diana manoeuvred the thrashing, whining man into a nearby alcove, propping him up against the backdoor of a local restaurant. Delivering a swift, sharp blow to the head, the guard fell unconscious, and she was free to leave his limp body for someone else to find once she was long gone.

But now there was a problem. Her disguise was ruined - her headscarf gone, bag noticeably torn, blood staining her fingernails. A wad of spit was enough to clean most of the visible dirt from her hands, and she realised she had little choice but to get rid of her bag. Carefully retracing her steps back towards the car she had abandoned, Diana tossed the entire cache of explosives into the trunk and made a run for it. Perhaps multiple distractions were off the table for tonight, but this distraction was certainly about to be a big one.

Tousling her hair and undoing the top few buttons of her shirt, exposing a sideways view of her cleavage, she felt satisfied with her new disguise. If she couldn't pass as someone's dutiful housewife, she could at least do her best to blend in with the local prostitutes.

God this was humiliating.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Reg and the others were waiting impatiently behind a nearby car, anxiously watching Stirling and Churchill approach as soldiers swarmed their truck, which had - until now - been their only means of escape. David approached the group, strolling casually so as not to betray his agitation, although his brow began to furrow as he surveyed the group.

"Where's Diana?" He whispered, leaning in close. Reg thought he might vomit.

"She's supposed to be here?" Riley hissed. One by one, their expressions began to fall with concern.

"I told her to meet us at the rendezvous, she's supposed to-" Stirling had gone from a state of panic to one of confusion, trailing off as his gaze locked itself upon something behind the others. Reg turned to follow his eye, brow raising as he spotted Diana across the street, purposely avoiding meeting their gaze as she strolled through the crowded space. But something had changed since that morning - she looked different. She looked good.

There was no time to express relief, no time to calm the thumping of his heart as Stirling ushered the group out from their rendezvous spot, marching across the street. They were making it up as they went along now - the most dangerous way to be. But she didn't follow, simply stood in a nearby doorway, leant casually against the wall.

"Seekings, go over and pretend to chat her up," Stirling ordered under his breath. Reg suddenly realised what was going on. "Get her over here with us, now."

Seekings slipped away from the group, taking extra care to look at ease, confident, not like he was following orders. His eyes met Diana's, and he stepped up onto the doorstep beside her, the pair standing close. "...You look different," He pointed out.

"It's been an... eventful afternoon," She explained. As she spoke, she maintained an easy, flirtatious smile, ensuring that anyone passing by would still believe she was a prostitute trying to chat up a client, despite the words being exchanged. Reg felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, turning his face redder by the second.

"We've gotta go," He said, and she nodded, following alongside him as they moved to rejoin the others. He felt her gently nudge his side, and slug his arm casually over her shoulder. They would have to keep up this pretence until the very last minute, until they were somewhere free from any prying eyes. But Reg couldn't even pretend to dislike the position he now found himself in, her body slotted against his in a way that just felt right, her shoulder somehow comfortable as it dug into his side. Her hair blew gently with each exhale he took, and he was almost too distracted to pay attention to the others, watching her instead of the guards Johnny was attempting to negotiate their way past. Reg couldn't even understand Italian - in his mind, this was a much better use of his time.

It seemed Diana had realised this distraction, for a sharp poke to the ribs alerted Reg that they were moving again, sauntering past the men after whatever ruse Cooper had concocted had worked. "Start paying attention," She muttered, beginning to smirk.

But there had been no time to formulate a retort before an earth-shattering explosion rocked the ground beneath their feet, a great ball of fire turning the sky red as a building burst into flames a few streets over. It was bigger than the blast from any single Lewes bomb, and Reg raised a brow, looking down at Diana who had begun to cringe slightly. Stirling turned to stare pointedly at her.

"I had to improvise," She shrugged, and Reg almost laughed before his own charges exploded somewhere behind them, and the group broke out into a sprint, making a wild dash for the nearest side road that could potentially promise a means of escape.

The first explosion had been so huge that almost every guard in the port had began running towards it, and once the other bombs went off as well, the place was plunged into chaos, no one sure of which crises they should tend to first.

"Where's your gun?" Stirling hissed as she ran alongside him.

"Like I said, change of plan," Diana huffed, catching a pistol as he tossed it over to her, the group crouching around the corner of a nearby building to evade the scattered guard force.

"Well, y'know," Almonds shrugged. "At least the bombs worked."

She let out a breathless laugh, but no sooner had she stopped running was she compelled to start again, dashing towards a jeep Reg had managed to commandeer.

"You got it?" Diana asked, a grin spreading across her face as he touched two wires together and the engine burst to life, rumbling steadily as they dogpiled hurriedly inside. They trundled away at a regular pace, so as not to draw attention, but it may as well have been a hundred miles an hour for how quickly her heart beat inside her ribcage, chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath, feeling as if it were the first full breath she had taken since the moment she had first arrived in Benghazi.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Stirling's car ahead had burst through the checkpoint they had passed that morning in a flurry of bullets, picking up speed, the jeeps going faster and faster by the second until they were streaking across the desert. Johnny had been standing atop the back of David's jeep, mowing down the nazis with his machine gun as they passed. As they passed back into safe territory, he turned back to face the second car, grinning elatedly, and Diana replied with a whoop, laughing at their success. She had not quite realised how scared she had been to die tonight until the relief of surviving had settled in, and now she was euphoric, the desert wind whipping her hair wildly in all directions.

Reg had the wheel, unable to tear his eyes from the road for how fast they were travelling, but he began to grin as Riley started singing a raucous drinking song, Diana and Jim joining along by the second verse. Almonds had taken off his hat, jokingly attempting to plant it on her head, but she let out a yelp as the wind caught its brim, tearing it clean off as the hat vanished into the night. They laughed at this too, everything suddenly hilarious as they were consumed by the joy of victory. The jeep's side mirror had been jostled in their hurried attempt to climb in, and rather than reflecting the road behind, Reg could see her - smile visible even in the darkness, both hands trying in vain to hold down her hair against the desert wind.

It may have been the greatest night of his life.

#sas rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes oc #sas rogue heroes fic #sas: rogue heroes #reg seekings #david stirling #pat riley #johnny cooper #jim almonds #oc: diana #fic | damage gets done

[riddle-me-ri]

Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow x Reader - Haunted Past, Haunting the Present

What happens when on an ordinary Halloween night with your beloved rogue…an old possessive and aggressive flame comes back to haunt you and your new partner?

A/N: so believe it or not this idea is based on an old original Halloween story I’ve been working on and off with for the past three years rip, and I decided to try and do this one shot with just Scarecrow cause it’s his holiday lol and I wanted to practice writing for him more. This is still just my general version for now, a strange concoction of BTAS and Happy Halloween Scooby Doo! cause I adore those two. And I do have a drawing with him planned out, but not sure if I’ll have the energy to finish it in time for Halloween rip

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Have fun but PLEASE stay safe while doing so!!

Trigger Warnings: mentions of an abusive past relationship, stalking, violence, and some language. Please if any of this may seem slightly triggering to you, please avoid! I do plan to write an alternative less triggering version of this story soon! Just hang tight!

Word Count: 2.0 k

Needless to say Halloween was you and Jonathan's holiday. Most couples went all out on Valentine's Day or Christmas, but not you two. 

Your house was filled with hay bales, fake cobwebs, various jack-o-lanterns all over, and skeletons on the front porch swing. 

The whole nine yards. 

You still giggled at the little almost life sized scarecrow figure you found that stood at the bottom of your doorsteps. It took a minute for Jonathan to roll his eyes back into his eye sockets, but you could tell he grew fond of it, eventually. 

Every night you two cuddled up and watched horror movies. You never got enough of Jonathan's smartass commentary, or how he'd go out of his way to be the one to scare you next. 

The following days, the two of you tried to restrain yourselves from adding more décor both inside and outside your home. As hard as it was at first, Jonathan found it easier to not pull any Scarecrow like antics when he found himself genuinely enjoying the festivities with you.  

As thrilling as it was to watch and test others' fears and tolerances against it…it didn't compare to the warm swelling in his chest when he heard you laugh or squeal whenever he spooked you around the house. 

While he's Fear Incarnate, you love and trust him enough to cling to him when you are at your most frightened. 

Much like tonight. 

It was finally Halloween night. 

You were dressed up and handing candy out to the kids. Meanwhile, Jonathan was mirroring his scarecrow twin on the other side of the steps. Every now and then he'd jump out and scare a group of kids, or he would tap a child on the shoulder and return back to his post like nothing happened. 

It was hard to keep a straight face whenever he heard you giggle or when you cheered him on. 

"Good job, Jonny!"

"Damn, Jonny, you scared me and I knew you were there!"

"I think you're having too much fun there, Mr. Crane." 

Jonathan bloomed with pride. This night couldn't get any better. 

It didn't. 

As the number of children started to dwindle, Jonathan decided it was time to pack up the suit for tonight. He hopped off his post but not before regarding his other partner in crime. 

"Good work tonight, my friend." He patted the hay stuffed shoulder of the fake scarecrow before heading inside. 

When he first walked in he headed toward the left where the kitchen was. He removed his hat and mask and took a refreshing breath of air. 

"Gotcha!" You jumped out and wrapped your arms around Jonathan's waist. He may deny it all he wants but you felt that sharp intake of breath he took. 

Jonathan did jump a little bit from the shock, but he immediately relaxed into your embrace, chuckling. "Seems you finally got me." 

You squeezed him with your arms. "I've always got you, but I will scare you properly one of these days! Mark my words, Jonathan Crane!" You kissed his cheek before releasing him from your arms. 

"Where are you going?" Jonathan watched as you headed outside. 

"I forgot to grab the mail." You were already out of your costume and in a Gotham University hoodie of Jonathan's and some sweatpants. 

"Darling, it's really late. I'm sure that can wait…"

"Jonny, I'll be fine." You assured. "Besides, I need you to hop in the shower…" You hummed. 

"Um, why?" He quirked his eyebrow. 

"So I can come in and join you." You winked at him, before turning the doorknob to head outside. 

Jonathan nearly tripped going up the flight of stairs as fast as possible to the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~

You were snickering to yourself as you were pretty sure Jon missed a step or two running up the stairs. 

The night was still, the fog had gotten denser. If not for the decorations and littered candy wrappers all over. You wouldn't think it was Halloween. 

You shivered, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. It was quiet, the whistle of a soft breeze being all you heard. 

You made it to your mailbox at the other side of the sidewalk and found yourself quickly shuffling the envelopes into your arm. The squeak of the old rusted metal door to your mailbox seemed to echo down to the end of the street. 

When your feet pressed down on the wood of your footsteps you felt much safer. 

Until you felt a rough hand land on your shoulder. You knew it wasn't Jonny's, this hand was cold and calloused. 

You jumped out of your skin, falling on the steps. and dropped all the envelopes to the ground. 

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy it's just me, baby.."

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" 

You couldn't tell if you were frightened or enraged. How? What? When? Why? 

What the hell is your ex partner doing here? 

"Hey, is that anyway to treat your significant other? You really thought you got away, huh?" They asked. They held their hand out for you to take. 

"Get the fuck away from me! We're not together anymore!" 

"Aww, that's cute, that's real cute, baby. But it's okay, there's no hard feelings." They reached out and grabbed your wrist and started pulling you towards them. 

"LET GO OF ME! LET GO!" You immediately went into fight mode as you scratched and yanked your hand away from theirs and scrambled to the door. 

You could hear their feet stomping up the steps behind you. You slammed the door shut, quickly trying to lock up the door with all the locks. 

It didn't take long for your ex to start beating down the door. Calling you out, cursing you out, threatening you. 

"JONATHAN!" You began running up the stairs and headed to the bathroom. 

"Y/N? Darling, what's wrong?" Jonathan was already running down the stairs and met you halfway. He was wearing a plain shirt and boxers, he had yet to get into the shower, waiting for you.

"I-It..I-I don't even know HOW b-but…"

All his years of studying and being enthralled by the fear in people's eyes. 

He loathed this. 

He didn't ever want to see that level of fear in your eyes. He didn't want to see you quivering, whimpering, crying. 

"Y/N…Y/N, darling breathe please…please breathe. You're okay. I'm here, you're safe, sweetheart." He began walking you the rest of the way up the stairs and to your bedroom. 

"I-it's my ex…I-I don't even know how they found me…Jonathan I'm so sorry.."

"Is. Is this the ex you told me about? Who hurt you?" He asked sternly, as he set you down on the edge of the bed. 

All you could muster was a nod. "I-Im so sorry, Jon I have no idea how-"

"This isn't your fault, darl-" 

CRACK

You screamed and Jonathan's blood ran cold. A medium sized rock had been thrown through your bedroom window. 

"J-jonathan…I-I'm scared."

Jon's eyes widened. Any other time someone told him that he'd be grinning with pride, elated to achieve this terror. 

Now that it wasn't him causing it, but it was happening from an outside factor towards someone he cared more than anyone or anything in the world. 

Jonathan saw red. 

"I know, my love." He held you in his arms, rubbing his hands up and down your back. He kissed your cheek and your forehead. "Stay here, lock the door behind me. And no matter what you hear, stay here. Understand?" 

"B-but Jonathan…"

"I would say call the police but I don't trust the GCPD as far as I can throw them." 

"Jonathan, w-what are you going to do?" 

Jonathan looked over his shoulder at you as he opened the door to leave your shared bedroom. You were still shaking in the fetal position on the bed. 

"I'm going to show them true terror." 

~~~~~

"Y/N!!! Don't make me throw another damn rock! You can't hide from me forever!" You ex hollered to the new hole in your bedroom window.

"Come on, you stupid bitch! How long did you think you could stay away from me?! You can't fucking live without me!" 

"I beg to differ…"

"Hey whoa!" They jumped back and looked behind them. They started chuckling. 

"Really? You're gonna try and scare me, Y/N? Please, I thought you were more mature than that." 

They opened their mouth to say some more degrading things, but the words were caught in his throat. Almost quite literally by the scythe to their throat. 

"Trust me…you know nothing about true fear…" The Scarecrow growled into your ex partner's ear. 

"Hey, hey, who the hell are you? Cut this shit out, man! This ain't got nothin' to do with you!" 

Scarecrow brought the blade closer to their skin. "Oh, but it does…and as to my identity…" 

Scarecrow swiped his other hand up to the other side of the ex partner's neck and injected them with his signature fear elixir straight into their jugular. 

"I'm your worst nightmare…" 

~~~~~~

You were pacing back and forth upstairs. Constantly looking through the hole in your window, but due to the fog you barely made out the two figures outside your home. You couldn't tell who made it out, but you were hoping Jon was okay. 

You had no doubt Jon took on his Scarecrow persona to encounter your ex, and you couldn't deny the satisfaction it brought. Knowing that your ex was finally feeling the fear they instilled in you for so long all that time ago. 

Some time had passed, almost an hour or two, the fog had cleared some but you didn't see either your ex or Jon outside. Just when you were about to head outside…

You heard the door to the bedroom open. 

To anyone else if they saw a tall lanky scarecrow with a burlap mask in their room they would be screeching in fright. 

For you, though, you immediately ran into his arms, letting out tears of relief. 

"You're okay, I'm so glad you're okay…" You sniffled, as you rubbed your face into his chest. 

"Of course I am, my love. Why wouldn't I be? Surely you didn't doubt me?" Jon teased as he slipped the mask off and tossed it to the floor. 

"No, no I just…I tried to look, but I couldn't see what was going on…" You explained. "A-and you were both gone." 

Jon shushed you softly, he began rubbing your back like he did before. Squeezing and holding you tight. "I'm here now, it's okay, they're gone…" 

For a second you think to ask him where he took them, but you didn't want to know. If Jon said they're gone, then they're gone.

Good riddance. 

"Thank you, Jonny…" You whispered. 

"Anything for you, my love." He kissed the crown of your head.

You squeezed your arms back around him, not wanting to let him go. Sensing this, Jon lifted you up off your feet. You let out a fit of squeals and giggles as you cling to him for dear life. 

He lightly tossed you onto the bed, as you giggled and got comfortable under the quilt and sheets. Jonathan began slipping out of the rest of his costume. Going back to his plain shirt and boxer shorts. 

When he looked back to you, he couldn't help but chuckle as you reached out for him with adorable grabby hands. 

He pulled the covers back and as soon as his body made contact with the mattress you immediately entangled your limbs with his. 

You wrapped your arm around his abdomen and your legs wrapped around one of his long ones. "Took you long enough." You muttered, as you laid your head on his chest. 

Jonathan chuckled some more as he began placing his arms where they belonged around you. You resonated in his touch; warm and loving.

You propped your head up for a minute and stared into his soft brown eyes. You leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss on the lips

"I love you, my scarecrow…" You whispered almost breathlessly, you laid your head back down and started to doze off. 

Jon kissed the top of your head. "And I love you, my sweet raven."

#ahaha I liked this at 4 am this morning #now posting it..ahhh...kinda unsure #rip #hope you guys like it though! #jonathan crane x reader #the scarecrow x reader #dc the scarecrow x reader #ri writes #happy halloween!! #have fun and be safe #love you guyss

[finniestoncrane]

You got any more ideas on the other rogues (any rogues, specially Harvey) who like a thicker girl??? 💕🍑

mhmmmmmmmmm YEP because there's nothing stopping me from insisting that all of these men are weak in the knees for a literal fuckin marshmallow of a woman (tastes sweet, looks soft and round) 💚

healing fat girl problems one scenario with a criminal at a time, if there are any rogues i didn't get to let me know and i can try my best!

minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff

scarecrow

someone get this man a big tiddy goth girlfriend, STAT. he uses the word plump a lot there's something classic and gothic about it to him. he's into white knuckle clinging and he can sink his fingers into every bit of you with ease so your body is a literal playground for him. there's not a bit of you he hasn't tried to taste or bite, and he finds it absolutely insane how much he enjoys pressing himself into you, between your thighs, your butt cheeks, your breasts. something about being enveloped in warm skin makes him feel safe and calm.

penguin

chubby power couple of gotham alert. he worships the ground you walk on and NEEDS to be seen with you, like you're a bit of a trophy and he loves showing you off. he's so happy just to have you on his arm and sharing his umbrella with him. also, it helps with his own self-image, being able to see obvious beauty in someone his shape and size makes him more confident. also, as someone who desires status and places a lot on his cumulative resources, someone who is large gives him a sense of value in you, that you're worth a lot more because there's more of you.

two face

there's something insanely glamorous about a plus size woman in a silk dress. y'know the way that silk kind of clings to the stomach and highlights the belly button and the shape of all the lumps and bumps HNG omg. and that's probably what would draw him to someone in the first place. he's quite aggressively complimentary, and if you were ever to say something slightly mean about yourself on a bad day, he would be ready with a retort. don't like the way your thighs chafe when you walk? that's fine, you can spend the rest of your life in bed with your legs spread for him. think your boobs are too big and maybe saggy? less effort for him to be able to put his face between them when you're on top. feel iffy about your double chin or neck one day? please remember that it's easier on his hand when he's choking you, which is one of his favourite things to do.

harley quinn

harley would absolutely find a chubby gal to be the cutest, most adorable thing ever. like she'll consider you a little stuffed animal that she is fiercely protective of. she'll squeeze your chubby cheeks and call you puddin' and she'll put a lot of effort into making you a matching outfit that shows off your curves. she's a tits gal for sure, but she loves prodding all of your lumpier bits and squealing over how CUTE you are.

bane

no matter how big you are, you're smaller than him and he likes to remind you of that by petting your head and treating you like a delicate angel. also, this might just be a me thing, but i missed out on being lifted and carried as a fat girl, but he's SO STRONG. forget about walking anywhere ever again, he's carrying you in his big strong arms. he's so aware of how hard his body is, it's nice to have something soft and squishy to hold against him. ALSO ass man ass man ASS MAN loves smacking it and watching it jiggle

poison ivy

your body and the way your curves flow make her think about the curves of flower stems, or the way that vines will curl and wave to find their way to the light. if you have stretch marks, she likes to stoke them and comments that they remind her of delicate petals with the lines that are on them, like hydrangeas. she's absolutely obsessed with thick legs, thighs and calves, because how are you not constantly arousing yourself by getting to walk around on those sturdy stalks god damn. she literally pictures you like an oil painting, cherubic, soft and dewy, literally surrounded by wildflowers at all times. she can swear she smells them when you walk past her.

#finnie writes #batman #fanfic #scarecrow #jonathan crane #oswald cobblepot #the penguin #harvey dent #two face #anon #friends being friends #harleen quinzel #harley quinn #pamela isley #poison ivy #bane #eduardo dorrance #rogues #rogues gallery

[beantothemax]

Chapter Two:

Praem and Ekaterina arrive in the city of Macbergen, a city ruled by the “last great skáld of the Fjordlands”, allegedly descended from the great poets of the days of yore

The fact that this is the last guy doesn’t inspire confidence in his claim but we’re not talking about that right now

This skáld is one Joren Hamlann, and the duo need to wait a couple of days before being granted leave to come before him

The guy is fairly ornately dressed, as is the seer in his employ, who is more than happy to speak to Praem on the topic, alone at Praem’s request

A large guard-type guy is by his side, doesn’t really talk

This guy’s a little weird and a bit shady but generally seems to have some good advice

Nothing specifically relating to Praem’s ability

As their conversation draws to a close, Praem is hit with another vision

She doesn’t pass out like last time but it is enough to force her to double over

She sees the seer’s wrists have their clothes ripped from them

He is bound and gagged, and thrown into some sort of cage

He says a specific phrase that I haven’t decided on yet

Praem comes to with notably less purple mist than before, but it’s still noticeable

Tells the seer that he needs to get out of here, which he declines

Praem explains what she saw, but he sort of laughs her off

Can’t imagine visions of such clarity being true

Praem does NOT like that one, and storms off

Regroups with Ekaterina, explains the situation, and the two agree to stick around for a little longer to see if anything happens

Smash cut to a week later, nothing seems to have happened, so the two visit the skáld again to thank him for having them

Everything goes well, but the seer looks a little different

Praem asks to speak to the seer one more time (in private), which triggers a mandatory Unmask segment

Turns out that this is straight-up just a different guy. The previous guy that Praem had spoken with was arrested for treason two days prior

The skáld has been running what amounts to a sham this entire time, and the “seer” has been a bunch of different guys masquerading as one individual psychic

The original might have been the real deal (this iteration of the seer claims that he was for sure), but every subsequent one hasn’t been

Praem leaves the room, fills in Ekaterina AGAIN (I promise that she’s gonna be more in the loop from hereon out, this is a special case), and gets out

Thinking back to how the original seer might have been legit, the two formulate a scheme to break into the palace gaol

Unsurprisingly since I am woefully uncreative and cannot think of a good transition for this, this leads into…

The Second Dungeon: Palace Gaol

Yeah I’m just gonna call it that

Anyways I haven’t written a dungeon in a while so I’m feeling the rust on this

Also Praem’s story is very light on exploration. Hers is a boss-fighting rush moreso than anything else

Regardless the vibe I wanna go for with this one is like… slightly damp.

A little too poorly ventilated, a little too poorly lit, et cetera, et cetera

Rats and similar enemies abound, with the occasional guard-type enemy

Most of the cells near the entrance are empty, to give the illusion that the palace is mostly

Eventually they reach centre of the gaol and find a cell block that’s entirely full

It’s dedicated to the former “seers” who either cracked and told someone or spoke against the skáld

Their ages vary but they mostly look similar so it’s not especially surprising that the skáld was able to pull this hustle for this long

Praem and Ekaterina look around for whoever was there first and eventually find the guy

Break the lock because these two are NOT rogues. They do NOT have proficiency in Thieves’ Tools (this is a lie, Ekaterina is so so very Swashbuckler Rogue-coded but hey this ain’t dungeons and dragons)

Are about to leave until Praem stops and just. You know what. We’re gonna do a prison break for realsies.

Ekaterina gets on board pretty quickly cuz you know. None of these people are guilty of a crime.

Fifteen minutes and ten or so prison cells later, the gang is ready to leave

Would it surprise you if I told you that this is when a twist happens? Probably not.

At this moment, Skáld Hamlann enters the fray with the guard from earlier

Normally I would make this lead into a lengthy conversation but honestly there isn’t a ton to hash out here

The skáld is pissed off, says exactly what you would expect about it, Praem and Ekaterina respond with righteous anger in kind

This chapter’s pretty tropey to be honest

Hammann steps back, tells his guard to deal with the intruders, and triggers…

The Second Boss: Sir Otheann

This fight is another semi-ripoff of one from the original Octopath Traveler, this time being reminiscent of Omar from Tressa Chapter 2

Lackeys will be present but I have nothing interesting to say about them

General theme of this fight is that he is going to try his damnedest to knock you unconscious

His Boost Mode attack probably reduces Defense but I haven’t decided on that for sure

He has two actions per turn, might boost that to three at a certain point

If he doesn’t boost to three attacks, he’ll instead have an action that buffs his shield point total

Haven’t decided which one of those to go with

Regardless, this is a simpler fight.

The post-game cutscene reveals that Praem kicked ASS in this fight, regardless of how well the player actually did

It opens with Otheann being kicked into a wall, Praem holding her sword to his throat, and Ekaterina cornering the skáld

The two ask if the former seers will be able to handle revealing the skáld’s crimes to the two, which they happily oblige

Everyone leaves, with the duo regrouping with the original seer at the entrance

Turns out that this guy is for real, or so he claims

Says that he’s familiar with the idea of Praem’s ability, and that a legend regarding her has been passed down in his family for generations

He’s able to point the two to a location in the Goldlands that may be able to shed some more light on the matter

Before they leave, he says that there was something the skáld’s men took from him when he was imprisoned, and that he was supposed to give it to Praem

The three go to the palace’s vault, where they find a dagger, with a small amethyst in its hilt at the centre of an eye design

Ba-bump. A dagger with an eye design and an amethyst

Ba-bump. She’s seen that before

Ba-bump. She saw it held in her hand, sheathed into Ekaterina’s chest

It’s the dagger. It’s real.

Praem does a good job hiding the fact that she’s scared shitless, accepts the dagger with grace, and leaves

Ekaterina pauses for a moment and gets a little “…” speech bubble before leaving

The two are going to the Goldlands. It’s time.

I WAS GONNA COMMENT ON HOW MUCH I LOVED THE FACT THAT THE SKÁLD HAD LIKE SEVEN DIFFERENT PEOPLE TO IMPERSONATE ONE PSYCHIC BUT THE END PART HAS THOROUGHLY HALTED THAT TRAIN OF THOUGHT. PRAEM HAS THE DAGGER. EKATERINA’S THE ONE GETTING STABBED. I AM FEELING SOME CERTIFIED DREAD

#asks #chaotic-good-mom-friend #iris oc hours

[selfdiagnosedeyemotif]

Chapter Two (Praem):

Praem and Ekaterina arrive in the city of Macbergen, a city ruled by the “last great skáld of the Fjordlands”, allegedly descended from the great poets of the days of yore

The fact that this is the last guy doesn’t inspire confidence in his claim but we’re not talking about that right now

This skáld is one Joren Hamlann, and the duo need to wait a couple of days before being granted leave to come before him

The guy is fairly ornately dressed, as is the seer in his employ, who is more than happy to speak to Praem on the topic, alone at Praem’s request

A large guard-type guy is by his side, doesn’t really talk

This guy’s a little weird and a bit shady but generally seems to have some good advice

Nothing specifically relating to Praem’s ability

As their conversation draws to a close, Praem is hit with another vision

She doesn’t pass out like last time but it is enough to force her to double over

She sees the seer’s wrists have their clothes ripped from them

He is bound and gagged, and thrown into some sort of cage

He says a specific phrase that I haven’t decided on yet

Praem comes to with notably less purple mist than before, but it’s still noticeable

Tells the seer that he needs to get out of here, which he declines

Praem explains what she saw, but he sort of laughs her off

Can’t imagine visions of such clarity being true

Praem does NOT like that one, and storms off

Regroups with Ekaterina, explains the situation, and the two agree to stick around for a little longer to see if anything happens

Smash cut to a week later, nothing seems to have happened, so the two visit the skáld again to thank him for having them

Everything goes well, but the seer looks a little different

Praem asks to speak to the seer one more time (in private), which triggers a mandatory Unmask segment

Turns out that this is straight-up just a different guy. The previous guy that Praem had spoken with was arrested for treason two days prior

The skáld has been running what amounts to a sham this entire time, and the “seer” has been a bunch of different guys masquerading as one individual psychic

The original might have been the real deal (this iteration of the seer claims that he was for sure), but every subsequent one hasn’t been

Praem leaves the room, fills in Ekaterina AGAIN (I promise that she’s gonna be more in the loop from hereon out, this is a special case), and gets out

Thinking back to how the original seer might have been legit, the two formulate a scheme to break into the palace gaol

Unsurprisingly since I am woefully uncreative and cannot think of a good transition for this, this leads into…

The Second Dungeon: Palace Gaol

Yeah I’m just gonna call it that

Anyways I haven’t written a dungeon in a while so I’m feeling the rust on this

Also Praem’s story is very light on exploration. Hers is a boss-fighting rush moreso than anything else

Regardless the vibe I wanna go for with this one is like… slightly damp.

A little too poorly ventilated, a little too poorly lit, et cetera, et cetera

Rats and similar enemies abound, with the occasional guard-type enemy

Most of the cells near the entrance are empty, to give the illusion that the palace is mostly

Eventually they reach centre of the gaol and find a cell block that’s entirely full

It’s dedicated to the former “seers” who either cracked and told someone or spoke against the skáld

Their ages vary but they mostly look similar so it’s not especially surprising that the skáld was able to pull this hustle for this long

Praem and Ekaterina look around for whoever was there first and eventually find the guy

Break the lock because these two are NOT rogues. They do NOT have proficiency in Thieves’ Tools (this is a lie, Ekaterina is so so very Swashbuckler Rogue-coded but hey this ain’t dungeons and dragons)

Are about to leave until Praem stops and just. You know what. We’re gonna do a prison break for realsies.

Ekaterina gets on board pretty quickly cuz you know. None of these people are guilty of a crime.

Fifteen minutes and ten or so prison cells later, the gang is ready to leave

Would it surprise you if I told you that this is when a twist happens? Probably not.

At this moment, Skáld Hamlann enters the fray with the guard from earlier

Normally I would make this lead into a lengthy conversation but honestly there isn’t a ton to hash out here

The skáld is pissed off, says exactly what you would expect about it, Praem and Ekaterina respond with righteous anger in kind

This chapter’s pretty tropey to be honest

Hammann steps back, tells his guard to deal with the intruders, and triggers…

The Second Boss: Sir Otheann

This fight is another semi-ripoff of one from the original Octopath Traveler, this time being reminiscent of Omar from Tressa Chapter 2

Lackeys will be present but I have nothing interesting to say about them

General theme of this fight is that he is going to try his damnedest to knock you unconscious

His Boost Mode attack probably reduces Defense but I haven’t decided on that for sure

He has two actions per turn, might boost that to three at a certain point

If he doesn’t boost to three attacks, he’ll instead have an action that buffs his shield point total

Haven’t decided which one of those to go with

Regardless, this is a simpler fight.

The post-game cutscene reveals that Praem kicked ASS in this fight, regardless of how well the player actually did

It opens with Otheann being kicked into a wall, Praem holding her sword to his throat, and Ekaterina cornering the skáld

The two ask if the former seers will be able to handle revealing the skáld’s crimes to the two, which they happily oblige

Everyone leaves, with the duo regrouping with the original seer at the entrance

Turns out that this guy is for real, or so he claims

Says that he’s familiar with the idea of Praem’s ability, and that a legend regarding her has been passed down in his family for generations

He’s able to point the two to a location in the Goldlands that may be able to shed some more light on the matter

Before they leave, he says that there was something the skáld’s men took from him when he was imprisoned, and that he was supposed to give it to Praem

The three go to the palace’s vault, where they find a dagger, with a small amethyst in its hilt at the centre of an eye design

Ba-bump. A dagger with an eye design and an amethyst

Ba-bump. She’s seen that before

Ba-bump. She saw it held in her hand, sheathed into Ekaterina’s chest

It’s the dagger. It’s real.

Praem does a good job hiding the fact that she’s scared shitless, accepts the dagger with grace, and leaves

Ekaterina pauses for a moment and gets a little “…” speech bubble before leaving

The two are going to the Goldlands. It’s time.

#iris goes to OC hell #project OCtopath #a blade in the fog

[timaeusterrored]

Hi, it's me again, back on my bs.So this is for the very extensive ask meme.

2, 5, 7, 15 to 27, 36, and 43. For Vax. Or Vincent.

Whomever you choose and whichever questions you choose to answer. I'm interested in all 50 but that'd be going overboard. 😅

So um. I really appreciate you and your characters, and I'm sorry for the amount of work I put on you 💜

☄️🐉

Hello Lovely!!! Thank you sm for the interest and never apologize 😭💕💞 I love talking about my babies and love people being interested and involved with them it makes me so happy

-

2. Do they have any daily rituals?

Vax- Yes, he always showers in the morning, after breakfast and coffee. If it’s going to be a stressful day or he just feels like it, he’ll make a cup of green tea to go. And every morning he brings Kerry breakfast from their favorite bakery💓

Vincent: Always showers at night. He also likes to draw before bed, it doesn’t matter if he’s home or at Johnny and Kerry’s place, he always draws a little before bed. 💕

5. Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

Vax has a home office that’s actually pretty tidy, he knows exactly where everything is, files organized physically and digitally. He also cleaned the office of the Afterlife as well. And for fun I think he once stress cleaned the Villa and it scared the people that work for Kerry because there was a merc in his house stress cleaning.

Vincent keeps his tattoo booth clean, he kinda has too since it’s a sanitary issue but his room… not so much. He tends to throw clothes around and drawings and papers and old homework shoved everywhere. It’s a nightmare but he can tell you exactly where the paper clip on the floor left of his desk is.

7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time?

Vax likes to paint. He likes to blast music in his ears and paint until his arms feel numb. But he does get worried about not being productive even when there’s nothing to do. Being the owner of the Afterlife, he’s always expecting the worst or a phone call saying a merc died and it’s just stressful. Kerry sometimes makes him go sit down in his studio just to relax a little

Vincent loves wasting time. Homie is so unbothered. He’ll smoke, watch tv, draw, maybe write about his dnd campaign.

15: Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Vax: Biggest Short term goal, meeting Kerry’s family. Smallest short term goal, um, not dying so he can meet Kerry’s family.

Vincent: Biggest short term goal, putting his art on display for a contest. Smallest goal, getting a new car because his truck is an issue and River drives it more than he does.

16. Biggest and smallest long term goals?

Vax: Biggest long term goal, running the Afterlife and possibly raising a successor so he’s not running it for the rest of his life. Smallest long term goal, getting Louise to like him. (It’s not that it’s not important to him, he just knows it may take a while)

Vincent: Biggest goal, opening his own tattoo shop one day. Smallest goal, graduating college. (Again, important but gonna take at least another three years)

17. Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding it?

Both are the same, shirt first, the pants, then socks, boots, and THEN jacket/hoodie/whatever they are wearing that day over their clothes (if you put your socks on first I’m scared of you)

18. Favorite beverage?

Vincent; Vanilla Coke

Vax: just a normal cola or green tea

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Vax: The good stuff? Kerry. The bad, literally everything. The stress of being the owner of the afterlife and trying to fit into Rogue’s shoes, how many people depend on him, how heavy everything feels on his chest. Missing Johnny.

Vincent: A good life where he and Kerry and Johnny all live and love each other forever. He likes thinking they’ll live forever.

20. Childhood illnesses? Not really?

21. Turn ons, turn offs?

Vax: Praise kink, hair pulling, being called Prince (he likes to be a lil spoiled okay?)

Turn offs: Bitches names Allen Or Kovachek. Fuck those assholes.

Vincent: I really haven’t thought about it😭

(Gonna skip a few, this got a lil long. But I do love answering them💕💓💓)

27😈. (Hehehe angst moment) What is their biggest regret?

Vax: being unable to save Jackie and Johnny. He wakes up calling for Jackie often and cries in Kerry’s arms. Especially after he finally gets to process and mourn, he still can’t believe Jackie is really gone. And Johnny, Johnny was always there. Not that he had a choice, but Johnny became his saving grace a lot, and damn did it hurt losing him. He thought he’d lose his mind, he almost did.

Vincent: he let everyone down. He tried and fought and cried and bled and at the end of the day, he abandoned everyone and left them. He disappointed them. It hurts knowing he let Kerry down, broke his promise. He hopes maybe one day, he can fix it.

36. What makes them feel guilty?

Vax: Jackie, Johnny, anytime someone mentions the amount of money and sleepless nights Kerry went through to get Vax down from the space station, remembering the panic Vik went through when Vax was going through some shit.

Vincent: Nicky (ex boyfriend), thinking he came between Johnny and Kerry, not being there when Kerry needed him most, adding stress onto his parents in middle and high school.

43. How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self- education

Vax: So, i don’t quite know abt schools in Night City in canon, but I don’t think Vax went to school, I do think he learned from Vik and the other people that helped raise him. I think he’d value self-education because that’s what he went through, and obviously he came out okay. (And no child of his is going to Arasaka Academy 😡)

Vincent: He’s in college! So he got through elementary, middle, and high school, and by the time we meet him in the fic, he’s a second year in a five year program. I think he loves learning, but also understands it’s not for everyone to go to college. He loves learning about what he wants to learn about, either at school or self taught.

#this took a while but this was a lot of fun #I love talking about them #and obviously they are my babies so #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk college au #vax eurodyne #vincent welles #asks

[maladaptivewriter]

The Enchantress Who Sold the World

A SlyvieXLoki Fanfic * This is not cannon to Marvel comics or MCU this is inspired by the Enchantress and Season 2 of Loki. Enjoy my time travel novella. I will be posting every Thursday a new chapter.

The Enchantress who sold the World.

Prologue:Let’s do the time Warp Again.

1975, Braxton Oklohama

Variants Records, Downtown Braxton.

Rhianna -played in the background as Sylvie arranged the brightly colored vinyl in order, everything had to be at least in order the store records were disorganized-yet again. 

She sighed it was close to 7 and she had to get home to celebrate her older adopted brother’s acceptance into Stark Industries. He was going to be leaving for New York tomorrow. Sylvie would be lying if she didn’t feel a small pang of jealousy for her brother getting to finally get out of this small town, small minded place.They didn’t even appreciate anything remotely interesting.Her brother was no exception.Phil was such a square, and now he is going to the home of studio 54! Its NOT FAIR! She hissed to herself remembering the alphabet. It will have to do she had countless things to get done this evening and being here any longer. She rushed through her list before, she flipped the sign to closed. 

She ran down Main Street seeing some of the familiar places of the homely sleepy town in the midwest the sweet smells of the ice cream and candy store, the bridal dress shop that hung beautiful dresses that shown like diamonds. Sylvie  was greeted by several familiar people, everyone in town knew who she was. She was lost in thought when she was bumped almost off her feet by an older tall woman with long black hair, her eyes deep green and narrowed, she had on a black cloak and was dressed in all black to her stylish heeled boots. 

“Beg yer pardon,” the woman said in an polite English accent, but gave her a curious stare then and took off. 

Sylvie turned around watching the stranger try to blend into the background. 

“Beatnik weirdo,” She muttered to herself when suddenly she heard a loud ringing and than a large BANG. It shook the whole Downtown. 

A  large group of soldiers in strange suits and helmets all of sudden swarmed the entire picturesque area. She heard someone say in a strange southern draw. Hunter-23 today is your Lucky day! We got two for the price of one! Two rogue Variants. 

Sylvie trying to figure out what was going on when she found herself jumped by the English woman from earlier she seemed to teleport her to inside the ice cream store. 

“WHAT THE HELL JUST-DID YOU-.” She stammered for a second never feeling the sensation to teleport to another place and about puked in the process. The woman led her through the families all eager for ice cream and treats to the back way towards an alley away from the men, she narrowed her forest green eyes on the very confused college student.

“OK CAN SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON? IS IT THE RUSSIANS ARE YOU CIA?” 

She heard her companion groan becoming more annoyed by the second. She turned around and faced her, “did you really come here Amora, to forget him was the spell cast not enough?” She pursed her lips in disgust  and then gave a small taunting giggle.

 “Did you think you could hide from them?You cruelly hid from him, with no care you forgot EVERYONE!  Or even me your- only friend who you double crossed!”  

Sylvie still confused by the whole thing barely noticed the flashes of green light that came from the woman as she pointed her palms at her. 

“Hey wait a minute, who is Amora? I am Sylvie! Forget who?” Nothing made sense the woman was looking angrier by the second.

“ I am sorry I have never met you in my life.” Her voice shaking, who was this woman? Who was Amora? Who would she want to forget?

“We should have left you to rot in the TVA in that PRISON! !”She hissed her voice growing angrier as the womans energy became stronger.

A small crackling, with a glow of a small zap of energy came from her finger tips swirling a green light came from her hand, as she sent it shooting to her like a green fireball , the oddest thing happened instead of being hit by the ball or jumping out of the way. Sylvie’s eyes went from their sage aqua green to a cloudy white and sparks of, green and white bolted from her hands, the two fireballs fighting and crackling as they fought a tug of war. These new powers coming out of nowhere. Sylvie looked at her hands in complete confusion, as she felt the need to give one big push, throwing the woman into a brick wall. 

Sylvie caught her breath for a moment when she ran to the now crumpled brick wall to see if the woman was gone? “How is this even happening? I did this what is happening to me?” She muttered to herself when she came face to face to one of the soldiers.  Sylvie heard on their strange radios they called for someone called. 

Hunter-23, we got one of the rogue Variants. Excellent work team. Lets take her back,another voice announced. We will find the other two soon! Jeez how many Loki’s are in this timeline? Another voice scowled with annoyance.Why Oklahoma? The hiss of the radio disappeared. 

“Lokis?” What is a Loki? Do they think I am one of those things she looked up at the visored soldiers?” Her thoughts were gone when one of the Minutemen tossed a small floating ball that released a net covering Sylvie and knocking her down to the floor hard the gravel scratching her cheek.

“Owe!! Hey I think you totally got the wrong girl! I am Sylvie Lushton! I was adopted by the Lushtons when I was 12! Please!” They ignored her pleas, pulling her bound bundle up form.

One of the soldiers pulled Sylvie like a bundle over their back and with blink of an eye everything froze around her. Her bonds suddenly disappeared the solider let her down. She couldn’t even thank them, before the soldier transformed into a tall slim man, in a green suit with the most ridiculous horned helmet and sardonic smile graced his fair face. He had a large button on his lapel that said-Loki 4 President? 

“Are you a Loki?” Sylvie looked at the man puzzled as if she knew him from somewhere? It was TV maybe a game show?This day was getting weirder by the second. “Am I a Loki? Oh darling, I am the best Loki! I am President Loki, well not yet but they will kneel” He turned to her dramatically. “In the voting boxes of course.” He winked, now about questions lets ask later, since I have suspended time from about 5 minutes, the Minutemen won’t know what hit them! I caught them at their own game.” His voice dripping with arrogance his eyes narrowed giving her a look. By the way though darling, don’t take this the wrong way, but you were quite the bird in your day, no wonder the younger fell so hard.” He laughed as he put his arm around Sylvie.

 “Of course I fancy more redheads,myself? Funny doesn’t matter the Loki we still have differences in love and desires.” He gave her a devilish grin.”Oh well let us go.”

“What are you talking about? I am not going anywhere!”

 She wanted to be free but it was as if she was being pulled like a magnet to the man and had no control as she followed him. He looked over to her and smiled. He waved his hand as she felt the freedom lift from her shoulders yet felt like a wall was in front of her she couldn’t go anywhere.

“Alright Sylvie Laufeydottir you got a lot of people looking for you, I will say this trick you did was a certain finesse. You enchanted that family making them think you were their adopted daughter? What is it with you people and families?” He groaned, Sylvie noticed he had something in his hand that zapped lines of electricity traced what appeared to be a door. He pulled the wall away from her but still had a pull on her. “I mean Sylvie you are an obsessed creature when you said, you would forget him you weren’t joking! I mean you enchanted the whole town? Variant records? So unoriginal!” He snickered, that whole town thing, beautifully done darling, I only heard of one other who could do that.Now lets talk about your powers in somewhere a little more private.” 

He cracked his impish grin,before she could protest and pushed her into the glowing door with him behind her the door flashed and disappeared quietly into the newly pruned timeline.

#loki x sylvie #fanfic #pro sylki #sylvie #loki season 2 #lady loki #tom hiddleston #sylvie (marvel) #ke huy quan #mobius #writing #romance #lovedaggers #coming of age

[oscill4te]

.

I look too much into movies and bad at interpretting things soooooooo forgive me if im yknow. Way off the mark

but that scene where scarlett and red were fighting and he tries to get her drunk and i think its even implied he sa'd her... bc she was pregnant after that scene where he forcefully carried her up to her room and he said "i wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me". That scene before she fell down the stairs yknow. Thats the vibe i got. I already hated him but thats where my brain went "Okay. I keep teetering back and forth but now I fucking hate this guy."

He constantly others Scarlet by saying "you're not like (insert stereotype of how women should be here) and demeans her character, saying she is "just like him". And when their child Bonnie died, he wouldn't even let Scarlet come in to grieve for her daughter. Hes always violent and throwing things in the movie. Hes controlling as hell.

Im supposed to sympathize with a man like that? Maybe its bc his behavior reminded me so much of a person who hurt me and that made me criticize too harshly but idk. I asked my aunt abt it and she didnt really see my take, but listened anyways. She thinks he was meant to be a sympathetic rogue character yknow

Im all about shitty characters and I understand its possible to like flawed characters but I dont understand how people can sympathize and see Red as "humorous" character "Who is good deep down and truly loves Scarlett" after all he did imo. Idk. I really hate him. He was posessive and obsessive. Thats not love. Don't get me wrong, I am a sucker for toxic and abusive relationships in fiction but to imply hes "the one" for scarlett? Idk.... she deserves better

Anywayzzz. The bond between scarlet and melanie.... deeper and truer than anything red coulda offered Scarlett.. js......... i loved every scene with Melanie and scarlet. I love how at first she resented Melanie and later came to see how true of a friend she was.

Writing all this bc my memory sucks and i know im gonna forget a lot within a few days but yeah... i love scarlet maybe its bc i dont watch many movies and dont see many strong headed female protagonists (partially due to the fact that!! I never expand my bubble and watch movies or read books) but yeah idc i love her a lot as a character. Shes brusque and a bit impish, manipulative at times but I love her for her free spirit. and the outfits she wore were so pretty

I have an OC named Scarlet who is vry fem and i wanna draw her in some of the dresses scarlett from the movie wore

well. I still liked it bc scarlet as a character (and many others), the cinematography, the beautiful outfits n scenery and will throw my modern, irrelevant, maybe not well-informed or messy opinion at it.

And yeah i know this movie is from the 1940s and of course has its many flaws such as racist depictions of black characters (considering the time... yeah.), sympathizing w the confederates, showing the plantation owners as treating slaves "kindly" and "as family". (you and I very well know... that just was not the truth) & ofc the manyy issues I said about Red Butler.....

I should watch more movies and take adderal bc wow. Adderal helped me focus deeply and made me realize movies aren't boring at all, not even the old ones! its just my attention span lol... maybe I wanna do more than just watch cartoons... maybe its time to explore more films from all time periods and all around the world

#thoughts on gone with the wind #general tw bc i think the relationship between red and scarlett was so abusive imo #but im misses Look Into Everything Too Deeply And Cant Interpret Narratives Well #ramblesss #very disorganized ones that make no sense lol

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

Some really tasty factoids here.

Cut for length.

Dragon Age: Origins

The continent of Thedas was at one point going to be named Pelledia, a name initially floated by James Ohlen

“Qunari” was a temporary name that ended up unintentionally sticking, much like “Thedas”

Mary Kirby wrote the Landsmeet. To this day, nobody understands how it works, except possibly her. If she’s “really really drunk” she can explain how it works. There’s as many words in it as Sten’s entire conversations put together

Concept art for Thedosian art - as in in-world art - draws heavily on Renaissance-era portraiture, the Art Nouveau movement, religious styles and media like stained glass, and favorite pieces from the golden age of illustrations in the early 20th century

Andrastianism in-world (art-wise) is depicted in wildly different methods depending on who in-world made the art in question. “One religion, 3 different lenses”. There’s the Chantry take, the Orlesian take and the Fereldan take; each with its own different interpretations, different mediums and different stories

The stained glass images were drawn by Nick Thornborrow for DAI, to decorate religious spaces in that game “and beyond”

irl Viking art influenced Ferelden

Greek and Italian art influenced Orlais

The book also had other insights into and anecdotes from the development of DAO, but I’ve transcribed them recently as they’re essentially the stories DG has recently been relating on the awesome Summerfall Studios DAO playthrough Twitch streams. (On those streams he provides dev commentary while Liam Esler plays through DA. The ones with DG are currently once every two weeks. Check them out! Here’s a calendar where you can check when the next one is) Instead of repeating myself I’ll just provide the link to the first transcript. From there you can navigate to the subsequent parts. Note these streams are ongoing. At this point I will also point you to a related post which is cliff notes of the Dragon Age chapter in Jason Schreier’s book Blood Sweat and Pixels.

Dragon Age II

DAO had the longest development period in BioWare history. In contrast DA2 had the shortest

Initially DA2 was going to be an expansion to DAO. A few months in EA said “Yeah, expansions like these don’t sell very well, so let’s make it a sequel.” So it suddenly became DA2 and they had to make it even bigger, although they still only had 1.5 years of time in which to do this

Production of DA2 officially lasted only 9 months, and at the time the team was still supporting live content for DAO! They finished development that January after the design team crunched all the way through the holiday period that year. Then it went to cert 9 times

The limited time they had is why the story takes place mostly in and around 1 city, and over 7 years (so it was temporal, rather than over physical distance, because a more expansive world would have taken more irl time to make)

They had no time to review even the main plot. Mike Laidlaw pitched the idea of 3 stories taking place at different points in the PC’s life, tied together by Varric’s recollections of events. DG rolled with this and made 1 presentation on the idea. This presentation was then approved and off they went

As they were writing DG realized that there was going to be no oversight and that everything was going to be a ‘first draft’. “Because nobody had time.” He sat down with the writers and said “Look, here’s the conditions we’re working under. A lot of what we’re putting out is gonna be raw. We’re not going to get the editing we need. We’re not going to get the kind of iteration we need. So I’m going to trust you all to do your best work.”

Looking back, DG has mixed feelings on DA2. “A lot of corners were cut. The public perception was that it was smaller than DAO. That’s a sin on its own.”

Despite this he thinks DA2 has some of the best writing in the series, especially character-wise. The DA2 chars are his favorite

The pace with which production progressed may in some ways have helped. “When we do a lot of revision, we often file away [as in buff off] some of the good writing as well. Somehow DA2′s whirlwind process resulted in some really good writing”

The pace meant chars landed on the writers in various stages of completion. For example Isabela was fairly defined due to appearing in DAO. In contrast Varric at the start was just that single piece of widely-shown concept art

Varric was conceived as a storyteller not a fighter. His skills are talking and bullshitting. Hence the question became, so what does this guy do in combat? The direction was to make him as different as possible to Oghren, so not a warrior. He couldn’t be a dual-wielding rogue in order to differentiate him from Bela. But you can’t really picture this guy with a bow. “For a dwarf, it would probably be a crossbow. We didn’t have crossbows, or we only had crossbows for the darkspawn. And they were part of the models. We didn’t have a separate crossbow that was equip-able by the chars. They had to like, crop one off a darkspawn and remodel it. And that became Bianca” (quote: Mary Kirby)

“Dwarven mages are exceedingly rare.” [???]

If DAO was a classic fantasy painting, DA2 was a screenshot from a Kurosawa film or a northern Renaissance painting. (Here Matt Rhodes was commenting on art style)

John Epler: “In any one of our games, there’s a 95% chance that if you turn the camera away from what it’s looking at, you’ll see all kinds of janky stuff. The moment we know the camera is no longer facing someone, we no longer care what happens to them. We will teleport people around. We will jump people around. We will literally have someone walk off screen and then we will shift them 1000 meters down, because we’re fixing some bug.” John also talked about this camera stuff in a recent charity Twitch stream for Gamers For Groceries. There’s a writeup of that stream here

Designing Kirkwall pushed concept artists to the limits of visual storytelling, because it has a long history that they wanted to be present. It was once the hub of Tevinter’s slave empire, so it needed to look brutal and harsh, but it also then needed to feel reclaimed, evolved, and with elements of contemporary Free Marches culture

The initial plan was for DA titles to be distinguished by subtitles not numbers, so that each experience could stand on its own rather than feel like a sequel or continuation. (My note: New PCs in each entry make sense then when you consider this and other factoids we know like how DA is the story of the world not of any one PC). Later, DA2′s name was made DA2 in a bid to more clearly connect the game to its predecessor. For DAI they returned to the original naming convention. (My note: so I’d reckon they’d be continuing the subtitle naming convention for DA4)

DA2 was initially code-named “Nug Storm”, strictly internally

The Cancelled DA2 Expansion - Exalted March

This was a precursor to DAI

It was meant to bridge the gap between DA2 and DAI

It focused on the fallout from Kirkwall’s explosion, with Cory serving as the villain

Meredith’s red lyrium statue was basically going to infest Kirkwall and it would end up [with what would end up] the red templars taking over Kirkwall and essentially being Cory’s army

To stop him Hawke would have recruited various factions, including Bela’s Felicisima Armada and the Qunari at Estwatch, forcing Hawke to split loyalties and risk relationships in the process

It was meant to bring DA2′s story to an end and end in Varric’s death. DG was very happy with this because all of DA2 is Varric’s tale. The expansion was supposed to start at the moment Cassandra’s interrogation of him ended in the present. “And we finished off the story with Varric having this heroic death.” It tied things up and would have broken many fan hearts, something BioWare writers notoriously enjoy. But between a transition to the new Frostbite engine and the scope of DAI, the decision was made to cancel EM, work any hard-to-lose concepts into DAI, and in the process save Varric’s life. DG has talked about the Varric dying thing before

Concept art for EM explored new areas previously not depicted in the DA universe, with costumes that reflected next steps for familiar chars. Varric was going to war, what would he have worn? With Anders, if he survived DA2, the plan was to present a redeemed Warden

A char that vaguely resembled Sera in DAI was first concepted for EM. This fact was mentioned near this concept art (see the female elf) and this concept art of Bethany with the blond bob

The writers sketched out plans to end it with Hawke having the option to marry their LI. This included alternate ceremonies for party members like Bethany and Sebastian if the player opted not to wed. There was even a wedding dress made for Hawke. This asset made it into DAI (Sera and Cullen’s weddings in Trespasser). The dress can also be seen in DAI during an ambient NPC wedding after completing a chain of war table missions

The destruction of a Chantry was explored in concept art as it might have happened in EM. This idea ended up carrying over to the beginning of DAI. (My note: Lol, the idea that DA2 could have had 2 Chantries being destroyed in it 😆)

World of Thedas

Sheryl Chee and Mary Kirby started with “a disgusting little dish called fluffy mackerel pudding”. In the middle of DAO’s busy dev period one of them (they can’t remember who) found a recipe online for this, scanned in from a 70s cookbook. “I don’t understand why it was fluffy. Why would you want fluffy mackerel pudding?” MK says. “We loved it so much we included it in a DAO codex.”

This led them to create more food for Thedas, full recipes included, like a Fereldan turnip and barley stew from MK and SC’s Starkhaven fish and egg pie. The fish pie became Sebastian’s favorite. “To me it made sense for it to be fish pie because a lot of the Free Marches are on the coast”, SC says, “It was something that was popular in medieval times, so I thought, let’s make a fish pie! I looked at medieval recipes and I concocted a fish pie which I fed to my partner, and he was like ‘This is not terrible’”

For WoT the whole studio was asked to contribute family recipes which might have a place in Thedas. SC adapted these to fit in one Thedosian culture or another, including a beloved banana bread that localization producer Melanie Fleming would regularly bake to keep the DA team motivated. “Melanie’s banana bread got us through Inquisition”

DAI

It says part of DAI takes place in or near the border with Nevarra [???]

This game was aimed to be bigger than DA2 and even DAO in every conceivable way

The first hour had to do a lot of heavy lifting, tying together the events of DAO and DA2 while introducing a new PC, new followers etc in the aftermath of the big attack. DG rewrote it 7 times then Lukas Kristjanson did 2 more passes

DG: “Our problem is always that our endings are so important, but we leave them to last, when we have no time. I kept pushing on DAI: ‘Can we work on the ending now? Can we work on the ending now? Can we do it early on?’ Because I knew exactly what it was going to be. But despite the fact that it kept getting scheduled, whenever the schedule started falling behind, it kept getting pushed back... so, of course, it got left til last again.”

“The reveal of the story’s real antagonist, Solas, a follower until the end, when he betrayed the player”. “Solas’ story remains a main thread in Inquisition’s long-awaited follow-up” [these aren’t DG quotes, just bits of general text]

Over the course of development they had 8 full-time writers and 4 editors working on it. Other writers joined later to help wrangle what ended up being close to 1 million words of dialogue and unspoken text. While many teams moved to a more open concept style of work for DAI, the writers remained tucked away in their own room, a choice DG says was necessary, given how much they talked. All the talking had a purpose ofc as if someone hit a bump or wall in their writing they would open the problem up to the room

As writing on a project like DAI progresses, the writers grow punchier and weirder things make it into the game. This is especially the case towards the end of a project (they get tired, burned out)

Banter and codexes require less ‘buy-in’ (DG has talked about this concept a few times on the Twitch streams) from other designers. DG liked to leave banter for last as a reward because it was fun. Banter begins as lists of topics for 2 followers to discuss. These may progress over time or be one off exchanges. One banter script can balloon to well over 10k words. “The banter was always huge because we were always like, laughing, and really at that point, our fields of fucks were rather barren, so we would just do whatever”

The bog unicorn happened pretty much by accident. It was designed by Matt Rhodes and was one of his fav things to design. They needed horse variations and he had already designed an undead variant which was a bog mummy [bog body]. irl these are preserved in a much different way to traditional mummies. When someone dies in a bog their skin turns black and raisin-like. The examples we know of tend to have bright red hair for whatever reason. It’s a very striking look and MR wanted to do a horse version of this as he thought it’d be neat. 5 mins before the review meeting for it he had a big ‘Aha!’ moment, quickly looked up a rusty old Viking sword, and photoshopped it through its skull like that was how it died. “And I was like, ‘I just made a unicorn. Alright, in it goes!’” It got approved. “So we built the thing. It fit. It told a little story”

With the irl Inquisition longsword, one of the objects they tested its cleaving ability on was a plush version of Leliana’s nug Schmooples

The concept art team explored a wide variety of visuals for the Inquisitor’s signature mark. It needed to look powerful and raw but couldn’t look like a horrific wound. In some cases, as cool as the idea looked on paper, they just weren’t technically feasible, especially as they had to be able to fit on any number of different bodies

Bug report: “Endlessly spawning mounts! At one point during development, Inquisitors could summon a new horse every time they whistled, allowing them to amass a near infinite number of eager steeds that faithfully followed them across Thedas. “You could go charging across levels and they’d all gallop behind you,” Jen Cheverie says, “It was beautiful.” Trotting into town became an epic horse siege as a tidal wave of mounts enveloped the streets. Jen called it her Army of Ponies”

The giants came from DA Week, an internal period when devs can pursue different individual creative projects that in some way benefit DA. They also had a board game from one of these that they were going to put in but they didn’t have time. It’s referenced though. It was dwarven chess

Josie’s outfit is made of gold silk and patterned velvet, with leather at her waist. She carries “an ornate ledger” and she has “an ornamented collar sitting around her neck, finished by a brilliant red ruby, like a drop of Antivan wine in a sunbeam”

Iron Bull’s armor is leather. His loose pantaloons and leather boots give him agility to charge

On DAI in particular, concept artists took special care to make sure costumes would be realistic, at least in a practical ‘this obeys the laws of physics and textiles’ sense. “While on Inquisition, we thought about cosplay from a concept art perspective. Given how incredible a lot of [cosplays] are, I now am not worried about them. In fact in some cases in the future I want to throw them curveballs like, ‘All right, you clever bastards. Let’s see if you can do this!’”

2 geese that nested on the office building and had chicks were named Ganders and Arishonk (it wasn’t known who was the mom or the dad). Other possible names were Carver Honke, Bethany Honke, Urdnot Pecks, Quackwall, Cassandra Pentagoose, the Iron Bill, Shepbird, Garroose, Admiral Quackett, Scout Honking, HChick-47 and Darth Malgoose

Bug report: “The surprising adventures of Ser Noodles!” DAI was the first time the series had a mount feature, meaning this had a lot of bugs. A lot of the teams’ favorite bugs were to do with the mounts. There was a period of time where the Inquisitor’s horse seemed to lose all bone and muscle in its legs. They had a week or so where all quadruped legs were broken. It was a bit noticeable in things like nugs and other small beasties but the horse was insanely obvious. “The first time we summoned the horse [for this] and started running around, the entire QA exploration room just exploded with laughter.” Its legs flapped around like cooked fettucine, leading testers to lovingly nickname it Ser Noodles. At galloping speeds the legs almost looked like helicopter blades, especially when footage was set to classic pieces such as Wagner’s Flight of the Valkyries

For DAI the artists were asked questions like “What would Morrigan wear to a formal ball? Can Cassandra pull off a jaunty hat?”

On DAI storyboarding became the norm. John Epler: “Cinematic design for the longest time was the Wild West. It was ‘here’s a bunch of content, now do it however you want’, which resulted in some successes and some failures.” Storyboarding gave designers a consistent visual blueprint based on ideas from designers, writers and concept artists

Quote from a storyboard by Nick Thornborrow (the Inquisitor going into the party at the end of basegame sequence): “Until Corypheus revealed himself they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. A magister and a darkspawn combined. The ultimate evil. So evil. Eviler than puppy-killers and egg farts combined.”

A general note on concept art:

In the early stages of any project, before the concept artists are aware of any writing, they like to just draw what they think cool story moments could be. It’s not unusual for the team to then be inspired by these and fold them into the game as the project progresses

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #bioware #video games #the da4 tags are due to a few references to da4 #cassandra pentaghast #my lady paladin #lul #feels #solas #mass effect #garrus vakarian #best boy #morrigan #queen of my heart #fenris #the Fenaissance #Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development spoilers #Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development spoiler #Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development #spoilers #spoiler #mj best of

[lovestrucked-again]

1.2k  warnings: oral sex (F receive), overstim, heavy smut written by a sudden urge :)

Jaehyun shuts the door.

His office is messier and more comfortable than Taeyong’s. The blinds are pulled down and the only artificial light comes from a desk lamp.

He leads you around behind his wide built-in desk, rolls his chair away and brushes a pile of mail back from the writing surface, clearing his desk.

"Have a seat," he encourages you, gesturing to the cleared spot on his table.

You carefully inch your bottom up onto his desk and scoot backwards, tugging the lower hem of your dress down to cover as much of your thighs as you can. Jaehyun flops into his chair and looks you up and down. Without warning, he rolls forward and lifts your shoes to his lap. You try to cross your legs but he catches your bare calves and stops you.

"You looked pretty excited with Mr Lee back there. How's your first day going so far?"

"Uh, it's... it’s not what I... I didn't expect you guys to—"

"The spankings? I know. I told them that was crazy.” he chuckles.

"Really?"

"Of course”

"Why didn't they—?"

"I got outvoted three to one. So... here we are."

"No, it's gotta stop! I'm not like, okay with it... sir."

"Well you seemed pretty lit-up when I saw you."

You look away. You can’t admit that to yourself yet, let alone to this gorgeous man holding your knees slightly apart.

"I think your body has different ideas," he continues soothingly, "about what it enjoys."

"NN-o," You shake your head, still unable to look at him. "No it doesn't. You guys are... you're my employers. You can't just..."

Jaehyun moves his hands to your thighs and pushes your dress back softly.

You tense.

"This all seems very strange to you, I know," he says quietly. "And since it's your first day, you're probably feeling extra sensitive but I think... what you need now is some way to calm your nerves."

"Wha-t?" you stammer nervously.

"This will make your whole day seem easier," he whispers as his elbows spread your legs apart and his face doves to your crotch. You slump backward, gasping loudly as his mouth latches onto your swollen vulva and sucks your clit and labia through the sheer panties.

"Oh Sir! What are you—? Oh... God!"

You claw at the desk behind you, trying to scoot away, but he pulls your hips firmly closer. His mouth attacks your pussy so adeptly that your panties may as well have been invisible.

You struggle but his hands bend your legs back until your feet are over his shoulders. You tip backward, onto your elbows.

Within seconds your neck slackens as your groin endures a flood of ecstatic sensations. It’d been ages since anyone had gone down on you, and after your gushing orgasm in Mr Lee’s office your body was well-primed for more.

Jaehyun takes a breath and yanks your underwear to one side. Then he immerses his tongue inside your folds, licking and sucking every millimeter of your bare sex into his mouth. You collapse completely and grab his head.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God..." you pant. He was obviously an expert at this.

His hands pushes your legs farther back, folding your knees to your chest until your shoes are inverted high above your face. Your toes curled-up tight.

He peels your panties out from under your and gathers them into a rope around your knees, enabling him to keep your legs pinned back with just one hand. His free hand then takes up a position alongside his chin, thumb extending to probe your labia. Moments later he buries that long digit deep inside you, rocking it back and forth while your clitoris grow inside the vacuum of his mouth.

Your body squirms against his face. Your tailbone lifting off the desk.

He shivers his mouth against you, slurping your folds between his lips while his thumb probs your narrow depths.

For you, each successive minute of this was more ecstatic than the last. Finally you let out a desperate and plaintive cry.

Juices from your interior mingle with his saliva and trickle down the crack of your ass. The tempo of his mouth and thumb accelerate.

Your fists ball. One against his desk while the other lodges itself between your teeth.

Your clit was being pinched between his lips and shaken. His tongue flicks like a rabbit's foot. Then he wiggles his index finger into the slippery ring of your anus.

You feel all your orifices tighten at once. His finger pushes deeper and wiggles further.

He chooses that moment to suck your clitoris extra hard.

You scream as the climax hits you. It arrives with the force of a rogue wave, crushing everything in its path. Your jackknifed body quakes and wriggles. Your breathing stops.

As you come, Jaehyun carefully squeezes a second finger into your ass. Still he flicks and sucks your clit unabated.

A string of wavering sobs burst from your throat. Your hips jerk under him. Fresh secretions ooze from you.

Finally you grab his hair and shove him away. It was too much.

He raises his face, sucks in a lungful of air and surveys your body.

Your outer labia was puffy and gaping. Your delicate inner petals are bright pink and awash in lubricant. The head of your clitoris held itself high, entirely too swollen now to fit beneath its narrow hood.

His fingers remained half-inside your slippery butt, gradually creeping outward.

"How's that for a warm welcome?" he asks through a greedily glistening grin.

You rock your head from side to side, unable to speak. Eventually you reach down and push his hand from your ass. He obligingly removes his fingers, but keeps your legs pinned back for a moment in order to watch your anus recover its pucker.

Then he releases your knees and sinks back in his chair. For the next dozen seconds he simply admires the sprawled beauty lying atop his desk.

Your slender legs are slack, draped wide apart. Your sandals are heel-to-heel in front of your butt. Your nipples pointing at the ceiling, having completely escaped your bra.

You try to sit up, but only manage to get to your elbows. Your eyes are half-lidded. Your feet slip off the desk and fall, drawing your legs somewhat closed. You gaze at him sleepily.

He stands up and closes the distance between them in a single step. You do not move other than to track his approach. He bends over, cups your face in both hands and pulls you into a kiss.

You’re so far gone you answer his tongue's probing requests with eagerness, kissing him back as though he were a newfound boyfriend. Your heart flutters in your chest.

None of this makes sense. Here you are, hooking-up with another of your new bosses, giddy after such orgasms. Anything seems possible now.

Because it’s only nine fifteen in the morning.

#nct smut #nct jaehyun #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #dirty hours

[doctorstethoscope]

Moment || Aaron Hotchner x gn Reader

A/N: hiiii besties expanding on a lil prompt from the weekend due to popular demand! Thank you to @the-modernmary for  helping me with it!! If u liked this teeny bit of angst u will love her fics!!

just a little note for those of you who read The Right: I am going on vacation this coming Saturday-Wednesday. I will have the chapters queued to post for y’all, but I will not be able to respond to taglist requests or update the masterlist until I come back! Still let me know what you think about the chapters though, they’re some good ones! ok onto this fic.

contains: slight cursing, alcohol consumption

wc: 1.7k

You take a deep breath as you walk out of Strauss’s office, taking exactly one beat to regain your composure before hastily making your way over to Hotch’s office, letting yourself in without knocking. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” you said by way of greeting as you crossed his office and settled into one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Tell you what?” Hotch asks, looking up from his paperwork with confusion knit across his brow. 

“That Strauss was going to harangue me the second I walked into the building this morning. I seriously didn’t even make it past security before she nabbed me.” You told him, disgruntled. 

“I didn’t know. What did she want?” Aaron asks, and you look up and see that he’s telling the truth-- he really didn’t know. 

“Oh… I assumed she would have cleared it with you before she asked me.” You said, your boisterous energy deflating the longer you sat in the chair. 

“Is she pulling you for undercover work? She always does that, and she never asks if we have anything coming up or what your consult workload is--” 

“No, Hotch. She’s, uh, she’s not pulling me for undercover work.”

“What is it?” 

“She said the director tapped me to lead the field office in Vegas.” You confessed, looking up and seeing the air leave Aaron’s chest. 

“Wow.” Aaron says, blinking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. 

“And you’re going to take it?” He asked. 

“I told her that I needed some time to think about it.” You answer him.

“What’s there to think about?” He wonders. 

There’s a moment where you think you might actually roll your eyes at him. There’s a moment where you consider begging him to give you a reason to stay. There’s a moment where you consider crossing the desk and depositing yourself in his lap, kissing him with the weight of all of the feelings that had you wanting to stay. 

But, after a moment, you realize that none of that’s happening. He’s sitting across from you, looking at you like you’d be the biggest fool in the world not to take advantage of this opportunity, and maybe he was right. Maybe you would spend the rest of your life wanting him one-sidedly, wondering what good you could have done for the world if you had simply accepted that he’d never love you back. 

“Nothing,” you answered, after a moment. “There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all.”

****************************

Aaron’s barely even distracted when you swing his door open and plop yourself into one of his chairs first thing in the morning. He’s used to it, by now. He may have been a less-than-willing participant in your friendship at the beginning of your relationship, but now he was glad to call you someone he was close to. His closest friend, really. 

His ears perk up when you mention Strauss. “Is she pulling you for undercover work?’ He starts to rant, already planning the tirade he’s going to deliver to Erin when he notices your demeanor change. You’re… shy, all of a sudden. You’ve never hidden from him before. He doesn’t like it. 

“She said the director tapped me for the field director position in Vegas,” You revealed. The sentence hit him like a punch in the gut.

“Wow,” is all he can manage to get out, fighting the way his throat threatens to close up. “And you’re going to take it?” He asks, although he knows the answer will break his heart. 

“I told her I needed some time to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?’ He asked, allowing himself to hope for a moment that you’ll make some grand confession, to imagine for a moment that you might possibly feel the same way he does, to believe for a moment that he’s worthy of your love. But he’s not.

“Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing to think about at all,” you tell him, standing up and leaving with a forced casualness. 

Aaron had been married long enough to know that that tone and those words together mean the exact opposite of what they are supposed to mean-- but he was still confused. What could possibly make you stay? And how could he find it before you left? 

*****************

The following days between you and Aaron had been chilly, to say the least. You didn’t bounce ideas off of each other on cases like you normally would. You came to the opposite conclusions at every turn. You were out of sync, and everyone felt it. So when the case wrapped up on a Friday afternoon, you were more than happy to rush home to a bottle of wine, a pint of ice cream, your moving boxes and some trashy reality television.

You’d given up on packing after about an hour. Your heart just wasn’t in it. So instead, you lounged in your pajamas, sipping at your wine in the hopes that it would guide you to your first full night of sleep since you’d spoken with Strauss. You’re just about to head to bed when there’s a knock at your door. You swing it open, revealing Aaron, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. 

“I was an asshole.” He offers. “Am I interrupting anything, or?”

“Just packing,” you say, wanting to twist the knife a little bit even if it wasn’t truthful. Aaron is undeterred, and steps inside anyways. 

“I didn’t want you to leave with us still in the middle of the fight. You can be as mad as you want in the morning, but have a glass of champagne with me?” He asks, with those big brown eyes you could never refuse. 

“Fine,” you sighed, still easily won over by him, even when you were heartbroken and mad. 

“Here, you open it. Congratulations,” he tells you, handing over the bottle. You start picking at the foil, and he speaks up in the silence. “Things are going to be different without you, you know. I like that our team is structured the way it is… as a team, but you know, in a lot of ways, it was nice to have a partner in you.”

“You know, come to think of it, I’m not sure if I even have cups. They might be packed away,” you say, still picking at the foil and decidedly not looking Aaron in the eye. He chuckles a little at your comment.

 “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone. I mean, who else can rein in Derek, or get to see me the big picture, or talk Emily off the ledge when I’m sure she’s about to go rogue?’ 

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him, setting the bottle on the counter, still unopened. Aaron heaves a sigh. 

“You should stay.” He says, after a moment. 

“What?” You say, blinking, because surely you must be drunk or dreaming or something else. 

“You should stay here. You don’t have to take the job in Vegas.” 

“Haha, very funny,” you joked, bringing your attention back to the bottle to avoid looking him in the eye. 

“I’m serious. Listen, I know I said there was nothing to think about, but I changed my mind.” 

“Oh, did you? And what if I haven’t changed mine?” You asked, getting angry now. 

Not able to hold back for another second, he takes your face in both of his hands and kisses you. “Just, think about that before you board a plane. Okay?” He says, and before you can even speak, you hear the door swing shut behind him. 

Damn you, Hotchner. 

You don’t sleep a wink.  When 8am finally rolls around, you pull yourself out of bed and get dressed, heading over to Aaron’s. As you buckle your seatbelt, you realize that you know you have to go over there but you have no clue what it is you even want to say to him. You hope you’ll figure it out without sounding completely insane as you knock on Aaron’s door, and he swings it open, still in his sweatpants and incredibly surprised to find you on his doorstep.

“I’m even more mad at you right now than I was last night,” you tell him by way of greeting.

“That’s understandable. I haven’t been very fair to you,” he agrees, and the fact that he’s being so reasonable only makes you angrier. You slip past him and step inside the apartment. 

“I don’t get it. You couldn’t just let me move on, start a new life and forget about the torch I’ve been burning for my boss the entire time I’ve worked here? You had to have the last word, even if I was leaving forever.” 

“No,” Aaron says, and you bite your tongue, trying to allow him a moment to respond even if you weren’t feeling all that gracious. “No, I couldn’t let you move on thinking the torch you were carrying ws unrequited.”

You’re struck by his words. “What are you trying to say?” 

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t matter. It’s a great opportunity for you in Vegas. I’m happy for you, and you shouldn’t let this--” 

“Hotch, what are you trying to say?”

“Just that I’m proud of you, and I know that you’ll do excellent work, and--”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to hide from me.” You call him out, and he looks at you for a moment. This time, you don’t break his glance. 

“I’m not trying to hide. I’m just too late.” He tells you, looking down at the floor. 

“Tell me, Hotchner. Tell me, please.” You beg of him, shifting to try to get him to look you in the eye.

“I love you, and I figured it out too late.” 

You draw in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he’s ruined any vestiges of friendship that still existed between the two of you in this moment, and that you’ll board your plane to Las Vegas and he’ll become a creepy old boss that you never think about again. He takes a moment to look at you, a moment to mourn what might have been, a moment to remember the way your laugh made him smile while the memories were still fresh. He takes a moment, and then you speak up.

“No,” you correct him. “You figured it out just in time.”

tagging: @choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14 @torykjamie @maureen4y

@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides

 @itsmytimetoodream @averyhotchner @msmarvelsmain @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar

hi besties I tried to tag everyone who said they wanted to be on my regular hotch list and a few of y’all who regularly interact with the right but if i made a mistake/u want to be removed u can lmk I will not be offended!!!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[raewritesfiction]

House Warming - Chapter 2 - The Living Room

A/N: have had this idea in my head for a wee while. Stay tuned for more - multi chapter.

Plot: You’ve moved in with your boyfriend Chris (Evans, duh) and now he wants to make sure the house is properly christened.

Pairing: Reader X Chris Evans

Warnings: Fluff, Smut

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]]

Tag List: @jaseminedenise @nikkitasevoli @ohh-la-la-leto @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikki-rogue @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @chris-butt @thegetawaywriter @hollyjolly6211 @sambale13 @blowdandelion @peachyrogerss @browneyes9125 @denisemarieangelina @lovinevans

—

While a heating system that actively worked was amazing in the freezing winter that had rolled in so quickly; you were yet to know exactly how to dress around the house. Your usual attire of many layers now had you at an overheating disadvantage and you found yourself stripping them off one by one after every three or four boxes - much to the amusement of your boyfriend Chris, who was enjoying the impromptu strip tease you were giving him.

By the end of clearing the living room of cardboard you were in nothing but shorty panties, a strap top and bra. None of them matched and Chris found your choice of cartoon girl boxers and lace red bra a perfect set. The nearly transparent strap top which had seen you through enough summers to be classed as vintage was just the icing on the proverbial cake to him.

You collapse down onto the large corner sofa unit and smile “one room clear!” Holding up your arms in victory at your hard work.

Chris crawled on over you, kissing you slow and deep when his face was level with yours “well done babygirl.”

Your raised arms drape down around his shoulders and you kiss him back with a quiet hum “do I get my reward now?” It had been a few days since the move but you hadn’t forgotten his words.

“Absolutely, and even better you’ve done most of the undressing for me - remind me to turn up the temperature to tropical and I’ll have you walking around naked yet.” He nips your lip and chuckles as you playfully slap his arm.

His hand travels down your thigh and moves your leg so he could comfortably settle himself between them. His kiss deepens and draws out until you’re both panting for breath, a look in his eyes tells you he’s already mentally undressed you and knows exactly what he’s going to do with you.

Nipping his lip in return you arch off the sofa and slip off the tee, throwing it to the floor where his tee soon joins it. Regardless of the fact you’ve seen him topless and naked times before now, your hands still travel over his arms and torso like it’s the first time. You love taking every part of him in and letting your fingers drift over his skin; your nails digging in just enough to leave light red marks while his teeth and lips bring up dark bruises on your neck and collarbones for all to see.

His hands glide over your thighs and pull down the cartoon underwear covering where he was enthusiastically heading. The material hadn’t been on the growing pile more than a second before Chris’s face was between your legs and his tongue slowly working over you. He manoeuvres your legs over his shoulders and traces his fingers up your outer thighs, over your hips, stomach, ribs and finally slipping under your bra to tease your nipples.

Chris’s tongue swirls and laps over you, he teases your clit with the most minimal of contact until you’re a whining mess begging him for more. Your hands work quickly to disregard the lace bra to the floor and free up all the space he could need for more teasing. He chuckles low against you and sucks over your pussy in pulses but only ever gives a light flick of his tongue over your clit.

“You’re a fucking tease.” You pant and thread a hand into his hair.

“And you’re a procrastinating brat..” he looks up briefly before lapping his tongue over you again; dipping just inside you.

“Okay! Okay! Another room tomorrow… just… PLEASE!”

“Promise…?” He blows a cool stream of air over your clit.

“Yes… yes I promise!” You tug his hair again “Chris… baby… please!”

He smirks and buries his face between your legs, hands kneading and massaging your breasts while his finger tips teased and pinched your nipples. His tongue circled over your pussy again and his lips closed around your clit; he sucked in pulses and flicked his tongue over the same spot.

It wasn’t long before you were arching off the sofa and rocking your hips without any rhythm; Chris’s arms fold over your hips and hold you to his mouth while his tongue and lips work on you. You tug hard on his hair and call out as you cum against his face; writhing off of the sofa just to keep him against you when he pulls away a little.

You slowly release his hair and massage lightly over the area you had pulled at. Chris kisses over your inner thighs and crawls back up over you, reaching for the condom in his pocket. Opening your eyes and looking up at him kneeling between your legs, you hold back a moan at the sight of you over his beard and lips. Your hand again scratches lightly down his chest and ribs while he undoes his jeans with one hand and pushes them down.

Chris knows how much you love to watch him and leans down to kiss you before taking off his jeans and underwear for you, batting your hand away when you reach to wrap it around his hardening cock. “No touchy…”

A small pout crosses your face; your bottom lip playfully quivering in faux-hurt. It’s a look you can’t hold as Chris growls at you and rolls the condom down over himself; there was just something about his hands on his cock that got you very worked up. He kneels down on the sofa between your legs and lifts your hips onto his lap, reaching between you to guide his cock inside you while watching your face intently.

Your arms, once down so you could run your hands over Chris, move to lay above your head and brace yourself against the sofa back. As soon as he is settled fully inside you Chris rolls his hips deep into you setting a steady pace, his hands moving to hold your waist. The light panting and whispered gasps give way to groans and grunts; his voice rumbles low in his chest when he growls and speeds up only to slow back down and make the teasing last longer.

“Feels… so good!” You push against the sofa back and rock your hips down to his trying to keep up with his changing pace.

“That’s it babygirl…just like that…” he moves his hands to your ass and digs his fingers in to leave bruises making you groan louder.

“I’m close… don’t stop!”

Chris grinds his hips and speeds up, pulling you onto his thrusts “come for me… I know you wanna…”

You pant and whine, groaning out the occasional full coherent word as Chris pounds into you relentlessly until all you can do is call out his name when you cum. Your hips grind down along Chris’s cock and pulse around him making him grunt roughly and push deep as he cums a moment later.

His head drops forward and slowly you both relax down onto the sofa; the only sounds, your heavy breathing and kisses over whatever skin you could reach as you curl up with one another under a blanket whispering against lips.

“You gonna stop procrastinating?” He presses a light kiss to your lips.

You nod and kiss him back “I will… maybe…” you smirk and nuzzle into his chest as sleep takes you both.

#Chris Evans #boyfriend!chris evans #house warming #chapter 2 #the living room #Chris Evans imagine