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ssreeder · 1 year

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IF JET DOESN'T LEARN HIS LESSON THAT THE FIRE NATION IS FULL OF NORMAL PPL TOO THE FUCK THE ASSHOLE, KILL HIM IMMEDIATELY

About How, yeah ok i trust him. For now. But I'm too busy suffering bc that zukka reunion better include both of them being conscious and codependent or I'll jump off a tree. Not a high one, bc idk how to climb trees, but I'll jump

And talking about zukka... Author. Author of my heart. Author of my heart and life. DON'T FUCKING TELL ME AZULA IS TAKING ZUKO TO THE FIRE NATION. HELLO???? I trust azula will have at least a very tiny care for zuko, bc she's not inherently evil like her dad, but like... Zuko won't fucking survive that much, c'mon. You've put that bou through the ringer, what else do yiu want to do to him. C'mon. COME ON

-Fragile heart

Jet gets a free pass to do whatever he wants soooooo *sticks out tongue*

Zukka reunion will be dramatic because everything in LIAB is dramatic because it’s just a dramatic fanfic & I like it that way… & long so TWO PART reunion yippie. (I can’t promise conscience but I can assure you codependent)

You make it sound like azula would WANT to take Zuko back to the FN…. like wha would she do with him? “Here father here is the brother you tried to kill but is somehow still alive and now slightly unhinged? I hope you didn’t have plans to be the phoenix king or anything because you gotta deal with this first?”

Ozai doesn’t wanna see Zuko he already killed him once, or ummm he let zhao do it which obviously worked out greattttt

FHA you’re hilarious but also it would be funnnnnyyyyy. (& dramatic)

#I’m sure azula has compassion way way way wayyyyy down?#but she is so conditioned to block out any emotion I don’t see her looking out for Zuko #not at this point #she dealt (or didn’t) with zukos death already #he’s gone #no longer a part of her life in anyway #so she’s planned everything without him there #then what? he shows up?#scarred half to death with a sparkling personality and a water tribe boyfriend ?#I don’t think azula appreciates unexpected things #& that is VERY unexpected #I don’t see her being too happy about it #but I also think she’s smart enough to know there would be NO gain in taking Zuko anywhere #I also can’t see Zuko wanting to go anyway near her or the FN after what happened to him #at least not at this point in his healing process #or ummm lack of healing process haha #he needs time and I don’t think azula or Zuko wanna be in the same room let alone the same nation right now lol #FHA #fragile heart anon #leave Jet alone he’s HURT #yeah yeah Zuko too but this isn’t always about him #liab #itf #ask

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hoodedmenace · 6 months

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#i fully had to step away from making dinner because i can't stop thinking about the panel where dick is beating the shit out bruce #for dosing jason with fear venom (and presumably selina) and i know it's a separate run in a separate universe #(i'm assuming i genuinely don't feel like reading it)#but the fact that that's what you choose to do with these characters is so exhausting like #you take away your kid's agency afraid of what he might do when canonically #following the og run #your neglect led him into the hands of the joker in the first place #you treated childhood trauma in someone who grew up surviving on the streets by letting him beat up the people that used to hurt him #and then someone's like haha you know what would be funny if we took the guy who had little agency in his childhood #no agency in his death or rebirth or recovery (looking at you talia)#and then made his FATHER FIGURE dose him with FEAR VENOM #listen i don't care if i'm getting the details wrong the point is that it's stupid i hate it and dick grayson is correct in his actions #get his ass

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ziracona · 2 years

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Yeah, they really made an absolute dogs breakfast of the writing in Inquisition? It's so abysmal that I don't know if it'll ever recover, much less if the writers would even WANT to. In all honesty, I know the previous two games were far from perfect but at least the writing was more or less consistent, can't say the same for DA:I unfortunately...

Yeah. I kept hoping the end would somehow fix stuff but the end was worse than most of the game. O_O I could have written a god-tier game with the concept and basic outline for Inquisition, but alas I am not head BioWare staff. And we sure as hell did not get a god tier game. Tbh I have no interest in DW unless I hear they’ve like, wildly changed the game/writing course of their development. And I don’t exactly have high hopes, because they seem to have mostly staff from Inquisition on it. But I in good conscience can’t keep forking over piles of money for a tripple A game and DLCs when they U-turn from lauding me for massacring a bannon for what they did to my husband, Alienage, and friend, and even Lady agreeing that while she wants the descendants free, the original humans the Keeper went after absolutely deserved their fate, with a little DLC that talks about the cultural appropriation of indigenous people in the world and the loss of their own history to their invaders to the point a circle mage can read and speak more elvish than the Dalish companion, and how terrible it is, to a game where they refuse to take any stance really, finally to a game where they frame Briala & Celine together as cute & sweet with no tell to player who hasn’t read TME on their own what that woman did, retcon the godhood of every culture they based (often not just visibly but explicitly Word of God as well) on minority cultures until the only not retconned god is Fantasy Catholic God, so the only paths forward are Fantasy Catholic (traditional white Europeans are right & all other cultures wrong) or Atheism (modern white European ideology is right and all other cultures wrong), both terrible, and are so allergic to a minority rights narrative they retcon the entire elven history of the franchise to make it Opulent Suddenly European And Slaver Society back in its glory days, and kneecap the game’s second best character by making his sudden face heel end game goal Racial Supremacist Genocide to go back to Opulent Suddenly European Styled Culture for Elves?? And-ah forget it this would go on for a while day. Just. Yeah. It had wild potential as a game and I loved scenes and characters, and am retreating to DAO->DA2 with the things I liked in the divorce, and I could have made SUCH a DAI. But as it stands, I just. Both don’t and can’t really care going forward. I love the games I played and characters and that won’t change, but I have no faith they’ll not just keep getting worse (personally), and I’m not Paying to see that. But yeah, the others ain’t perfect, but they’re fun and solid enough. Even though I think DAO is easily the most well made, DA2 has such a fun cast and interesting concept and story, and such moments, it was my favorite. And he’ll, Nothing is perfect. That’s normal and expected. But there’s a big difference between ‘I don’t like these aspects but I like the whole enough’ and like

#ask #anonymous #dai spoilers #I still can’t BELIEVE they gave Solas one of the most God-Tier charcaters of all time in DAI and then in Trespasser went ‘haha psych! time #for racism species Supremacist Genocide Intellectual Dude Bro motives!’ like wtf I’m taking him & Cole in the divorce and leaving #they really had a charcater all game that was ‘pretending to be a calm Lawful Good professor but he’s Wearing the Mask & sometimes it cracks #but when you see behind it it’s not death sidius it’s Bugs Bunny sawing florida off the United States and ALSO he’s a big wolf’ and then #didn’t even let him actually be a trickster god just some dude who’s willing to kill every species in existence to hit race supremacy again #UNBELIEVABLE writing move in the worst way. I could have made the most amazing upsetting Solas starts a war finale while he’s still a god #and elves keep their elf culture and shaken the franchise to its knees and delivered writing unknown to man and done RIGHT by the bald man #but the devs fkn decided to massacre their franchise and my boy right in front of me #well not on my watch. I’m taking him and leaving back to previous games and writing my own - better inquisition in my head #if this timeline won’t deliver I’ll make my own! it won’t be the first fkn time #GOD it’s the little things too! in DAO I can help my bestie kill her abhsive mom but in DAI I’m supposed to find Flemeth sympathetic??? shes #the same flemeth who ruined my girl’s life as she has countless others! they really nosedive into so many piles of shit in DAI #to unfortunately paraphrase Trespasser Solas: I would be /thrilled/ to be proven wrong by BioWare. like you can’t imagine #but I’m not holding my breath. one fan who loves a charcater generates in a month 12x more usable DAI story and lore than the entire team in #the last 9 years

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fragmentedblade · 2 months

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It's as if they're saying... "Why... why did you and Imbibitor Lunae commit such an unforgivable sin?"

I know that you have no interest in my answer.

...which is why I asked the question as you looked me straight in the eye. I've asked myself that same question infinite times... but was never able to find the answer...

Why... why is it that only the abominations can return time and time again...?

Why does someone like her have to be buried, burned to ash, and eventually forgotten...? Why!?

This play on questions that await no answer, yet are in their way a response to what was asked, is so good

#The way they manauver around silences and how they don't say straight away what they mean and meant and felt and thought #yet know and understand even in their not sharing the other's position #I love how it works with Jin.gliu's understanding of Blade seeking B.ailu but not taking her medication‚#hoping for a different kind of treatment‚ just as she had #They stood in opposite sides of a board‚ with totally contrary opinions on the same matter‚ yet ended on the other side of each other #So similar both in stories‚ influences‚ relations and personality in some ways. So similar in movements in the end #So similar in drive to live beyond their death at the end of it all. Unable to let go and move on #Holding on to grudges and hatred and their sword if only to keep the pain and the memory alive if it's all that rests #I love them so much #I talk too much #Traces #Fragments and scraps #Why did you do it? Why is it that only monstrosities come back? Why did you do it? Why does she stay dead while my flesh restores itself?#Why did you do it? But seeing Bail.u is the best medicine she could have hoped for. And he did it‚ but is full of regrets #The absolute reproach and yet the mutual understanding is so good. It feels so natural and coherent. So human #I truly love them and their dynamic a lot #Also‚ obsessed with the fact that Blade says she stabbed him through his heart in the final blow‚ and how the image reflects it #'In the end‚ you stabbed me through the heart and left me and the sword in that withered grave'#'最后‚ 你刺出穿心一击‚ 把我和剑一起留在了那片枯冢'#I can't tell just how moved this whole quest makes me and how satisfactory it was to me haha #The Gongshu reference makes me want to scream every time #The weight of 'you left me and the sword' with how Blade and that sword are linked in life and death and change of being and name #Avfkabfkkd I couldn't love him more

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yeonban · 5 months

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「 RP MEME : CARING FOR SICK MUSES . 」

@skilledsenses asked: ‘ you look miserable. ’ ( ranpo for nikolai - )

The cheery facade the jester ne'er drops is nowhere to be found when he teleports away from the gruesome scene of the murder and appears in an enclosed alleyway at the edge of his ability; though the clown's appearance may imply the murder has moved along with him to the new location as his blood seeps into the whites of his clothes and he wonders whether the official he's just killed has felt any sort of solace after inflicting the injuries Nikolai has allowed them to before giving out their last, suffering breath.

It isn't a fatal injury for him anymore, not after the killer clown has taken the antidote for the poison that has oh so accidentally slipped into his blood vessels when the victim has gnawed at his skin in their desperation to live, but Nikolai's body continues to remain ill at ease, still displaying tell-tale signs of having been poisoned even after its fight against the deadly poison has been won. It's when he uses his cloak to spawn a napkin and bring it upwards to wipe the blood from his face (both his own, caused by a severe nosebleed; and the victim's, caused by their... rather gross death) that a familiar voice rings in his ears and Nikolai half-attempts to remember if hallucinations were due as a side-effect of the poison; only for heterochromatic eyes to glance in the direction of the sound and fall onto his (favorite!) detective.

Gently erasing the stains of blood from his visage while idly staring at Ranpo, an eerie smile blooms from the spots where the drops of blood used to be and it soon shifts into a loud burst of laughter as Nikolai remains entirely nonchalant about the acute loss of blood and the way in which the sharp movements of his laughter only further cause him harm. ❛ Ahahaha!! What an amusing twist of fate! ❜ A downside of his ability is not being able to perceive the world beyond its 30 meter border until after the transfer has been completed, which is why he tends to teleport to nearer places and blend within the crowds after most heists or murders - yet this wasn't a possibility with his current state of being in mind, and therefore it seems he ought to improvise and deal with the cards at hand. Perhaps it isn't such a bad thing though, to have come across the other in this dire state of affairs, and indirectly offer him a new angle to consider his psyche from.

Why would Nikolai be standing here, as viciously injured as he is, despite being easily able to dodge or block any incoming attacks he wishes to, from the brilliant detective's perspective?

Ranpo's remark almost incites a second fit of laughter from the jester, one that Nikolai only abstains from out of pity for his poor, mishandled and abused body (after all - he can't afford to die just yet, now can he?) and instead opts for a slightly less ostentatious show and a calmer (though still unnervingly upbeat) tonality. Is he really as fine as he makes himself out to be, or are his injuries (internal and external) far more painful than he allows them to appear? ❛ Is that any way to talk to someone who's bleeding out in front of you, Ranpo-kun~? What if those were the last words I ever heard, hm~~? ❜

#muse: nikolai gogol.#skilledsenses #* nikolai gogol. / ic.#ask 2 tag #This man is sick but sick in the head LMFAO #I love how you sent this in and even tho Kolya doesn't get /sick/ he immediately let me know I can brutalize him in front of Ranpo #FOR CONTEXT! (My) Nikolai sometimes allows his victims to do their worst to him in their last moments; as a fucked up show of mercy #in the same vein as the act he puts up as a ''heartless murderer who enjoys their suffering'' - it's to give them SOME sort of relief #before death inevitably takes them. and while it may come across as penance in others' eyes... it's actually more on the lines of #going against humans' innate fears of feeling terrible pains and bordering death (no sane person would ever do what Kolya's doing)#This is also why Kolya has a MYRIAD of scars on his body. especially on his legs since plenty of victims can't quite... stand up #and in this particular case? he used poison on his newest victim; a poison that got into his own blood vessels too #he Could've easily dodged that bullet. but he Didn't. he let himself suffer like hell til the victim died before he took the antidote #and now he's living w the consequences of his (conscious) decisions AGAIN :). except unlike usual; he encountered a wild Ranpo LMAO #Nikolai; looking like a picasso work if picasso ever decided to be a fan of depicting brutal murders: Haha fancy meeting you here!#QUEUE.

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ttearsofthekingdom · 8 months

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oh my god i just spent an hour and a half writing bullshit about that post. maybe ill finish it tomorrow maybe ill just be too embarrassed to post it. uh either way getting to spend a while reading about fallout spread and acute radiation sickness was fun.

#if i dont post it my thesis is that no they wouldnt get ARS but all of the stupid baubles finn kept from that time COULD be radioactive #not fabrics...unless he doesnt wash them...#but ehhhhh its tricky #on one hand you got the dust from fallout and yeah encased in ice stuff is gonna stay pretty dirty #so anybody who got turned into the snowman's toys mightve released some cs-137 into the area AGAIN after they got thawed #and then you have the groundwater seepage. which uh. haha #theres no rivers or creeks in junktown iirc so it'd be wellwater. and it only takes a few months for that stuff to seep down #and then uh lets talk about the elephant in the room alright?#i did consider neutron activation but honestly the amount of neutrons actually released by a nuke are very small and in a short burst #most of it is soaked up by the bomb casing (which contributes to fallout when the metal gets shredded in the blast)#so really you're just looking at the water the soil and whatevers going on with the people in the ice #the 2 culprits of fallout have half-lifes of 30 years give or take #so its been like what 12 years? its still a pretty hot zone #actually wouldnt it have been like 10? since snowman was around for a year or two? does it even matter actually no not really #but uhhhh id say if FnC and Simon were to get radiation sickness it would be from that fucking soup #kicking around in the crater would probably make them throw up at least #but theyre not gonna die #and uhh . that was probably the most merciful death finn could have gotten. given that he was pretty much at ground zero #the crown probably protected him from most of it but hes literally living on that same land that used to be his parents farm #he KEPT ALL THOSE THINGS #im just mad like STOP you need to MOVE you need to GET RID OF THAT HAT you will get TUMORS #kids your mother and i love you very much which is why we are living on the superfund site i caused 12 years ago . sorry

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fangswbenefits · 5 months

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Pointy Ears

Summary: You accidentally find just how sensitive Astarion is when it comes to a certain part of his body…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Sub-ish Astarion. Ear sensitivity. Blood drinking. Fangs. Astarion being a whimpering mess. He's also a big shooter (idk if there is a more accurate terminology in fanfiction haha). Handjob. Cumplay. Praise kink. Edging (if you squint). Nipple play.

Word count: 1.8k

You could feel Astarion was nearly done, as your fingers raked across his scalp and through unruly curls, the warmth of your blood spreading gradually across his skin.

He was comfortably nestled between your legs, occasionally bucking his hips into you as his cock hardened with each passing second.

Even as your vision began to blur, the pleasure vastly overcame the impending sense of dread. After all, he could easily send you over the edge between life and death if he lacked the restraint to stop himself.

Your other hand caressed the lukewarm skin of his arm and traveled up to his neck, where you could feel his throat shift rhythmically under your touch as he downed mouthfuls of your blood.

“Astarion…” you whimpered faintly, as life slipped from you dangerously fast.

He grunted once but didn't budge.

Bringing your hand to his face, you felt a growing wave of panic take over.

He had never gone too far.

But dizziness and chilling shivers quickly enveloped your body, rendering you nearly helpless.

“Astarion…”

He rolled his hips into you but kept his mouth firmly latched onto your neck, his concentration never wavering.

With eyes pressed shut, your fingers reached up until they faintly brushed past the tip of his ear.

And then he instantly froze.

As if stung by some unseen entity, he quickly pulled back from you, wide-eyed and lips stained with blood.

“What's wrong?”

He reached out for the scroll of Lesser Restoration on the bedside table and placed it in your hand before rolling off of you and onto his back.

You uttered quick words and watched as the piece of paper dissolved into thin air, quickly feeling your life force being restored as warmth and vigour sprawled along your body once again.

“Astarion?”

He had his eyes closed shut, and you watched as his hand hurriedly made its way to unlace the front of his trousers, alleviating the constricted erection.

Had you done something wrong?

He didn't seem troubled or uncomfortable, and merely let out a sigh of pure relief as he freed his cock.

“Do that again. Please.”

You arched an eyebrow as you rolled on your side, utterly confused. “Do… what?”

“My ear… touch it…”

Oh?

Your eyes landed on his flushed, pointy ear, and you proceeded to give the sharp edge a tentative caress with the pad of your thumb.

His lips parted with a soft gasp and he arched his back ever so slightly.

This was new.

Your gaze shifted to his lower half, noticing how his hardened cock twitched as you brushed the warm skin of his ear.

Seeing his cock fully hardened and with this faint blush to it thanks to your own blood coursing through his body, never failed to send the most delicious jolts of pleasure between your legs, effectively igniting a gentle throb.

“Does that feel good?” You cooed, staring back at his face again as he let out a few whimpers.

“Ridiculously good.”

That was all the incentive you needed, bringing your forefinger to his ear and giving it a soft squeeze between your thumb.

“Gods…”

This time, he rolled his hips, and you could only stare in complete awe as the first beads of precum began to drip from the tip.

You involuntarily licked your lips and lowered your head to rest on his unmoving bare chest.

He felt cozily warm from having fed on you and couldn't help but to reach down with your other hand, tracing a finger along a single bulging and thick vein that spread along his cock.

Your feather-like touches kept drawing out the most beautiful whimpers and gasps from him.

His mouth watering cock was always so responsive to your touch, that you found yourself grinding your hips instinctively against him.

A needy moan parted your lips slightly at the mesmerising sight of a single string of precum bridging the flushed tip of his cock to his lower abdomen, and beginning to pool on his skin as a few droplets threatened to spill down.

Once again, you ran your finger along the protruding underside of his length, too entranced with how it twitched so eagerly for you.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion reached down with one hand, wanting to wrap his fingers around his length, but you intercepted him halfway through.

“Allow me, lover.” You whispered sweetly, lifting your head to take a look at him.

As expected, he looked positively ethereal; his face tinted with the faintest blush and his half-hooded crimson eyes set on you.

“You don't have to.”

You shifted higher, letting go of his hand, which he dropped to his side, and you leaned in until your lips brushed against the pointy edge of his ear.

“Do you want me to?”

He chuckled lowly. “If I want you to pleasure me? What a silly question, darling.”

You smiled at his bluntness before darting out your tongue to join your fingers.

Another guttural groan escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut once again.

Leaning back, you positioned yourself to sit next to him, wanting to keep your focus on both his cock and ear.

His eyes flew open, and he began to prop himself on one elbow and hand reaching out for your trousers, clearly trying to be the one setting the pace.

But you shoved him back with a chuckle. “Just lay back and allow me to take care of you.”

He arched an elegant brow at you.

He was too used to being the one taking the lead. It was instinctive for him to have control over each other's pleasure.

But you wanted him to lose himself in the moment, not having to concern himself with anything but his own bliss.

“Pretty,” you said truthfully as his eyelids nearly dropped when you brushed a finger along his tip. “So pretty…”

He immediately whimpered, lust-blown eyes never leaving yours. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

Gods…

Astarion was truly a natural at leaving you speechless with his words.

You kept the gentle and unwavering caresses along his sensitive ear.

As you shifted your gaze, you noticed the pool of precum on his lower abdomen already overflowing, droplets rolling down his skin.

Instinctively, you swiped two fingers to collect some of it, and began spreading them along his cock, earning a hiss of approval.

“You delectable little vixen.” He groaned out with a few rolls of his hips.

The swell between your legs throbbed viciously from his praise, and it had you wrapping your fingers around him.

His own wetness aided you in your initial strokes, feeling the bulging veins under your touch caving in momentarily before filling up with your blood once more.

You could get used to having Astarion like this for eternity.

Just too lost in genuine pleasure and lust.

Trusting you to guide him to unheard of heights and fully letting go.

The pace was set.

The perfect balance between steadiness and tightness, and more than enough to have him jerk his hips upwards as he fucked your hand.

You reckoned he wouldn't last long given how his whimpers intensified each time you applied the slightest pressure to the shell of his ear.

Suddenly, he moved one hand to your chest, and you gave him a disapproving pout, not wanting him to take over.

But…

“Let me see them…”

His words came out laced with desire and whimpers, eyes set on your eyes as the hint of a plea made you gasp.

You kept the pace on his cock as his experienced fingers tugged at the lacing of your shirt. He worked his way down agonisingly slow, chills spreading throughout your body as more and more of your skin was exposed to his gaze.

He halted once he found what he was looking for.

With a soft tug, he moved the fabric out of the way, your swaying breasts in full view.

A violent jolt of pleasure nearly has you halt at once, too taken aback by the eroticism of all of it.

“Keep going, darling…” he urged, honey dripping from his words. “You can grip it tighter, can't you?”

Gods above…

He then brushed his thumb across a hardened nipple and your mouth fell open in a strained gasp.

Your breasts moved in unison with the pace on his cock, lewd sounds echoing around the room.

You had to bite down hard on your lip to muffle the moan stuck in your throat.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted disapprovingly, his thumb releasing the trapped lip and moving to press down on your chin to pry your mouth open. “Let me hear those sweet moans.”

It annoyed you how he was so quick to reverse the roles and how easily you fell for his traps.

But you weren't ready to let him win just yet.

"Maybe you shouldn't make such demands when I have you in the palm of my hand - quite literally."

The glaring pun made him scowl.

You offered a devious smile instead.

Then, you increased the pressure on his ear, and the effect nearly had you chuckle viciously at the sight of him immediately crumbling down, back pressed flat against the mattress again.

“Gods!”

The whine of frustration mixed with a moan let you know you were victorious in having him right where you wanted.

His hips snapped more aggressively into you as you squeezed him even tighter.

He was so close.

There was something so incredibly hypnotic about having this man coming undone for you.

Because of you.

You couldn't think of a more effective ego-booster.

So by the time he reached his peak, you could only glare in utmost wonder as you felt his cock twitch violently under your palm as the first spurts of cum shot out, reaching as far as his chest - one even reaching his neck.

Your mouth fell open.

He had balled his fists, gripping the bedsheets so fiercely as he rode out the untameable wave of pleasure. His head was thrown back as he arched and shuddered, profanities spilling from his pretty lips.

And the sound of fabric tearing echoed in the room.

Oh.

You aided his cock as best you could, squeezing the final drops of cum, mesmerised by the amount of thick liquid that now covered him.

Still driven by your own unrequited pleasure, you leaned to swipe your tongue across his nipple, collecting as much as you could.

His hand moved to the back of your head, silently urging you.

It only took a couple of swipes to gather enough cum to pool on your tongue.

Astarion's half-hooded eyes met yours. “Does it taste good?”

With the most sultry look you could conjure, you swung your leg over his torso, effectively straddling him as your mouth hovered over his.

“You tell me.”

He furrowed his brows inquisitively.

And you promptly took his lips in yours, which he eagerly parted. You seized the opportunity to push your tongue against his, allowing the liquid to drip down.

He groaned as he tasted himself on you, deepening the searing kiss, both hands on your hips, grounding you.

Yes.

You could definitely get used to this.

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x mc #astarion scenario

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deadghosy · 2 months

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AND NOW….WHAT WE ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR…. PENGUIN! READER IN COURT.

HAZBIN HOTEL X PENGUIN! READER pt.4

Prompt: after lute’s acting out and hell’s celebration. A court was ordered for the custody for you.

“We are here in court today to discuss the home and place that reader should be in” says sera as she eyes Lucifer and his daughter that’s beside him.

Charlie smiles at the thought of winning this time as she smiles at her father who seemed to be a nervous wreck. He is hair was messy but almost kept as he kept fidgeting with his hands.

“Okay let’s start,” she says as she pulls up some cards. “Please no definitions this time.” Sera says strictly. Charlie gulps as she pulls out another bunch of cards. “Okayyy..no defining..but I have kept record on how comfortable they are with the hotel and the residents” she says with a small smile as Lucifer glances at his daughter hoping she could change the seraphim’s mind.

“Do you have any proof of this suppose claim?” Sera says with a raised brow. “Why yes! I do and my dad also has some. Right dad?” Charlie says looking at Lucifer who jumped at the sudden spot light. “Uh- yeah, yeah. I have some proof and rebuttals.” Lucifer says sitting up correctly.

Sera and Emily look at each other as a ball rises into the room. The angels seem to look each other and watch the ball carefully. Charlie smiles ready to show them how you belong in hell with them, for family of course.

“Oh oh oh, I would love to watch this shit show.” Adam says pulling up popcorn out of nowhere as the ball in the court starts to play. Lute grabs two movie glasses to wear with him and herself.

*flashback*

You were sleeping peacefully in Lucifer’s bed as he made you another duck toy as you woke up to smell pancakes beside you. You grabbed the pancake and ate them with a cute smile and squeak/quack. Angel busted in the ring leader’s door to grab you up and take you shopping as you got dressed.

Charlie and vaggie were talking downstairs as Lucifer was after Angel trying to pack up reader’s small little bag just incase there is trouble, like a small phone, small juice box, a rubber duck that turns into a monster to protect the penguin. And while type of stuff. Of course Angel rolled his eyes and took it for you as you two exit the hotel with vaggie and Charlie saying bad. You looked visibly happy as Lucifer gave one more goodbye kiss to your forehead.

*end of flashback*

The court chatters seeing such wholesome moments like that in hell. Adam rolls his eyes as lute basically breaks a mug beside her in anger seeing the angels nod and smile.

“How do we not know that you forced them to basically like that shit show of your hotel? You bride them with something?” Adam says rolling his eyes “Probably threaten them like the bastards you are.” Lute says as she glares longer at the two Morningstars.

The angels whisper gossiping about this. Charlie looks nervous as Lucifer looked as if he got sent to a death sentence. But Charlie then stood up with a nice compute looking around. “Don’t you ever think about what they want?! They’re our friend, heck even our family at most. PLEASEE…we just want them to be here with people they feel comfortable and loved around.”

“BLAH BLAH BLAH!” Someone says, ruining the soft moment as the court looks at Adam and lute who are scowling at the demon princess. “Why keep spitting these bullshit out your mouth and just admit that heaven is their rightful place? I mean, HAHA- they love me and plus they love the food here even better.” Adam says with a snarky smirk and lute smiling evilly.

Charlie’s demon form was slightly slipping from anger at adam’s words before lucifer had put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Adam, that is no way to talk to my daughter” Lucifer says with a scowl at Adam. Adam just smirks as lute was beside the first man throwing her middle up at him. “Ah please, you’re gods most hated thing to ever exist. Why let an ANGEL, who is supposed to be here, go live with you?”

Charlie opened her mouth to speak, “it was a rhetorical question.” Lute says with blunt venom. Charlie closed her mouth embarrassed. The court whispered and gossiped with a few nods as they did agree you were one of them that accidentally got sent to hell instead of heaven itself.

Sera felt a heated stare from the devil himself, he kept his deranged look from the stress of this. The last time he had to be in court was when he got sent to his own kingdom.

“DONT you care Sera! They are just a person who can’t control who loves them! They love us…and maybe..you guys as well.” Charlie says as she hesitated on saying how you loved heaven as well. She stared around sera as well as sera closed her eyes not wanting to hear it. Emily glanced at the older seraphim uncomfortably.

Her first sentence made it feel like Deja vu in front of the whole court as Adam exclaimed, “HOLD ON HOW BITCH! You don’t get to sing in court ever! Plus.” He says smirking. “Of course they love us, we’re fucking heaven for crying out loud.” Sera sighs, “Adam, please no interrupting in court.” Adam scoffs sitting back down with lute who glares at Lucifer with full of hate. “Fuckin' bitch.” Adam grumbles under his breath.

Charlie growls under her breath to Adam as she pointed to Adam, “well, what do you have for claiming they even love heaven at all! What and where is your proof.” Adam smirks as lute flies, getting a presentation. “I’m glad you asked bitch, LUTE HIT IT!” “GREAT PLEASURE SIR!” Lute yells back smiling as she starts up the slideshow.

*flashback*

You were cuddled by Adam as he was hand feeding you some of your favorite chips flavor. You made a nice purr sound as you snuggled against Adam, adam’s tough facade faded as his eyes soften. “You like me right? You won’t leave me?” You nodded to Adam as you nuzzled your face in his pudgy body. Adam smiled and looked forward at the tv.

The next day was you and lute having a flying race. With your cute chubby penguin body, you couldn’t fly well. But lute just smiled and picked you up to her chest and starts to fly around heaven. You smiled as you quacked out how beautiful and exciting this felt to fly with someone you deem who you liked. You clearly liked the fresh and heaven air as lute put you to the ground to go get ice cream with you.

*end of flashback*

Adam smiles with a laugh as lute and fist bump at the presentation they made of you basically feeling cozy as heaven here. The angels awe and coo at adam’s part of the flashback as some clapped at the nice friendly encounter you had with lute in the second part.

The court whispers again as Emily and sera look at each other. Emily grabs onto sera’s hand as sera glances at Emily and her hand. And finally at the Morningstars who have a pleading smile as you are beside them playing with a train you. Sera lets out a deep breath and opened her mouth for the whole court to hear.

“The court has spoken. The rightful place the reader belongs in, is……”

CLIFF HANGERRRR💗

taglist: @caffieneaddictt18 @galaxywing-has-adhd @aria-tempest @chefysawesomeideas @zamadness @libraryraccoon @ilovelyneysm07 @speckle-meow-meow @timeageusveryquickly @skymac712 @loyx2 @nicoblob @badatpunz @listenerchan

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moondirti · 11 months

Text

animalic (1)

series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 1.9k summary: he won't stop until he gets you warnings: enemies to lovers, injuries, kissing, minor ATSV spoilers, size kink (?), mentions of gore and death, not spell checked nor edited, honestly not my best work but the horny is all that matters notes: stayed up all night for this because i had to get it out of my system before finals. there'll be a few more parts, i promise i'm not this cruel haha

“I thought grace was a prerequisite for your little spider-club.”

Your quip sounds disjointed – even to your own ears – entwined with wheezes that rattle your splintered rib cage. In all honesty, the circumstances don’t seem to be favouring you; he’s got you confined upon the wreckage of your own fight, hanging off the remnants of a crane that dangerously tips over a quarry. And though this isn’t the worst you’ve faced, Miguel’s presence always seems to make things more complicated than they need to be.

You’d had a stable hold on the beam, ready to pull yourself up and dematerialise to wherever he wasn’t. Until, of course, the asshole kicked your elbows off. Now, your fingers remain as your only attachment to the structure, shaking violently with their diminishing strength. Your torso isn’t faring any better, either – the bleeding both internal and trickling from the gashes in your hoodie.

(You wonder if he’s toying with you, like a panther with its food. Of the rare times he’s assigned another spiderman to pursue you, they didn’t tend to drag it out for this long.

But, you suppose, Miguel’s different.)

He takes a small step forward, lifting his foot over your digits. He could crush them like this, turn the bone to powder and keep pressing until it macerates in the gore. You can’t put it past him, really, not if you utter one more self-sabotaging word. You’ve seen him rip through steel and silk alike, fueled on the resentment that simmers deep within his very essence. Yours is merely the same fate that’s befallen every other obstacle that’s dared to come his way.

But the tension buzzes between you two, thickening until it’s palpable enough to taste. Miguel is quiet as ever, completely still save for the flickering light of his dimensional travel watch. You envy his position – that resolute stature, brimful of power as his shoulders square, his calf rippling with subdued strength, still stretched over your hand. You blame that, or the mask, slick with sweat and humid as it sticks to your nose. Or the glasses that slowly slip to reveal your squinting eyes. You blame anything apart from what it is; that fear that steadily begins to flood your senses, numbing it all into one, cohesive panic.

You’ve never been good at life or death scenarios.

“Or, maybe, the big boss thinks he can break his own rules?”

The air snaps. With an infuriated roar, he lunges at you, razor-sharp talons swiping at your face. In your frenzied dunk to avoid them, your fingers drop.

You plunge to the bottomless chasm below.

Okay. Let’s try to get this right, one last time.

Your name doesn’t matter. It hasn’t, not for a while now.

For the past year, you’ve been on the run from the Spider Society. You don’t exactly blame them for it, either. Every world you’ve crashed has gone to shit, despite serious lack of trying. Food-barren wastelands, borderless warzones. Truthfully, after the mantle of Earth 7BB-1 convected in on itself, you were inclined to turn yourself in.

Independant of the fact that Nueva York seems to be the only place you can’t fuck up. Regardless of the relatability you have with the residents of its lobby. You were bitten by a radioactive spider just the same, and for all the good you’ve tried to do, you’ve never been a spider-hero. If it meant that no one else got hurt, you really would have been able to cope with lifetime confinement.

(Greater good and all that.)

Would’ve. Could’ve. If it weren’t for Miguel O’Hara’s interjection, and his goddamn alternative solution, things just might have turned out that way.

You’re not dead.

The realisation whips your consciousness into high alert, eyes snapping open to survey your surroundings. You process the light first, its brilliance piercing through the bromine-doused cotton that stuffs your skull. Then, it’s the pain that, up until this point, had been thrumming in the background. It crackles, marrow-deep, tearing down the tendons in your shoulders to the throbbing area around your ribs. They’re in doubtlessly worse shape than they had been at the quarry, the ache searing across to engulf your spine too.

He had let you fall on your back, that dickhead.

But–

You’re not dead.

It doesn’t take you long to figure out why that is.

A red forcefield entraps you, droning its monotonous hum, partially obscuring everything beyond your own reflection. You can see the faint impression of a silhouette – no, multiple – stalking you on the other end, a great shadow court. They warp and grow with every passing second, gorging on your offered vulnerability, awaiting some wordless signal from the harbinger of death, to execute justice upon the one who’s been causing them so much trouble. Jess Drew. Hobie Brown. Ben Reilly.

(They’d been more forgiving, once. Willing to negotiate peace, to treat you more than the screw up you’ve proven to be.

His voice overrode theirs. Always.)

It’s easier to make out the devil himself – more so than the others. You’ve come to memorise the slope of those shoulders, how his fists clench at his sides as he circles you. You imagine the smug set of his jaw and those eyes, just as luminous as the cage you curl within. The puck at the base is recognisable, akin to the capture weapons he’s thrown at you previously. He’d saved your life, then.

On a technicality. You’ll bury that thought to rage over later.

“How–”

The question hardly forms before you’re ripped in two, the atoms of all but your spirit splicing into one another in a defect of blue and orange. The glitch exacerbates the fractures that threaten to knock you out, racking through your system as it rearranges your matter into amorphous forms. It’s only when something is thrown into the enclosure do you snap back to. A bracelet clatters to the floor.

“Didn’t know whether you’d be used to the glitching yet.” A disembodied voice remarks. It’s at a particularly whiny pitch – you assign it to Ben.

“We… tried to get it on you, kid. But you–” A feminine inflection crops up. Jess sounds the same since the last you spoke.

You glower at them from the corner of your eye – unsure if they can actually see you – and snap the day pass on. Your spectral abilities were handy at the best of times; to shift from the corporeal, coming into immateriality, makes the most complicated situations evadeable. You credit it for your continued survival, if nothing else. Yet to speak like you could control it, especially while unconscious, was pushing it. You clearly weren’t able to activate it when you needed it the most.

And now you’re here.

“I’m not going to ask what you want, so let’s keep this short– y-yeah? Either you let me go, or this Earth’ll be the next to unravel.” Despite your intentions, the demand escapes you in a long-winded croak. You hear Hobie snicker, the laugh teetering the edge of approval. Anyone can tell the promise has no foundation.

“That won’t be happ–”

“Leave us.”

The room clips into white noise. You fail to focus on anything but that echoing order.

His voice comes across clearer than all else, too, cadence resonating past any natural boundary, tugging your heart right where it’s tender. There’s that fear again, that singular dread, only ever triggered by his indifference. Perhaps more potent than fury, his patience gives away an all-assured determination. Deadly.

You bite your cheek, steeling your expression into one of similar apathy. It feels like a child’s attempt at dress up, grubby hands clutched around mother’s lipstick, painting on a clown’s complexion. Crackling apprehension brushes across your most vulnerable parts; layer by layer, you’re skinned as the group files out. Bare nerves are all that’s left for your faceoff with the hulking man.

He throws another puck to the floor. His own forcefield conjoins to yours.

His cheeks have gotten hollower, you notice, emphasising the cheekbones that are just as keen as everything else about him. He offers no smile, no grand boast of victory. Instead, he breathes – calmly, fixedly, and lets you absorb the overwhelming magnitude of his size once more. He’s aware of what it strikes in you, can see it in the way you falter upon every reintroduction. Miguel is colossal, a reality that has never been more apparent than in this cramped enclosure.

You know that if you stop to ponder it, it’ll ruin you.

Rearing on your heels, you bounce from your place on the ground, making a grab for his watch. He anticipates it, having caught the decision blaze in your pupils, and side steps, pivoting to gain the upper hand while your back is still turned. You rebound off the field wall, stumbling back when he yanks you by your hoodie. Your shoulder presses into his chest, and he moves to wrap himself around your form.

Your skin prickles. His body passes right through you.

His recovery time is nearly nonexistent relative to your last fight – quick learner – but you’re still swift on your feet, bolting to his watch again. It’s a millisecond too slow, for his talons sink into your forearm when you start to pull away.

Your pained yelp loses momentum as he slams your back against the wall, using a knee to pin your other arm in place, his free hand wrapping around your neck.

He’s close. Too close. Your stomach flips, pushing up on your oesophagus until you choke with the bile that sears its lining. Your breaths are as deep enough as his clutch will allow, index and thumb cutting off the circulation on both sides of your neck.

Ichor blooms from the puncture points at your wrist, the warmth puddling at your palm, not yet heavy enough to drip down onto the floor. You don’t think he realises how deep his claws are, how near he is to scratching bone. You don’t think you do, either. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should, and while you’re sure you’ll regret not prioritising it sooner, you don’t think– Don’t think–

“I-I’m not goi…going home,” You gasp.

“It’s not up to you, Wraith.” Miguel growls, chokehold loosening.

It hits you, then. Animalic. He smells addictingly animalic. Like musk, a blend of brine and hot air and hints of a patchouli aftershave that still clings to his jaw. Your eyes flutter, seeking all you can get of the latter. Unwittingly, you move in closer.

You haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time.

His expression oscillates between a sneer and a grimace, nose pulling up to reveal the very pointed ends of his two canines. Set side by side with plush lips, you zero in on the thought of experiencing the contrast with your own.

He’s huge.

Closer.

Completely overwhelms you, in size and presence and–

Closer.

Your ribs ache. Your back groans. You’re quickly losing feeling in your fingers, and movement – soon – if you don’t do something.

Your breath weaves with his. He doesn’t reciprocate when your lips brush, but he doesn’t pull away, either.

You kiss him for longer than you should. Longer than you need to. It’s firm, and not unlike what you expected.

(World-shattering, all the same.)

Your skin prickles. It takes all of your rationale to pull away – dematerializing out of his grasp, and into the portal you’d activated from his wrist.

chapter 2 →

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lilisette · 3 months

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this game- you cant just put my type in front of me and then take him away!!!!!!

heres to hoping that his corpse is not found and the game is like "haha hes actually not dead!! he was just severely wounded and was kidnapped by the sus group that mc encountered beforehand! and now that group is holding him against his will and you have to save him!!!"

no for real i hope that happens because my god. that childhood friends trope is really hitting now. (i know we have zayne but caleb??? the banter??? the potential for a love triangle?? HELLO???) it would make sense right? no way the game is just gonna spring a death this early on us for no reason right??? plus hes in deepsace aviation, a top secret supee dangerous organization, it would make sense for that sus group, whatever their intentions are, to kidnap a member of that group to extract info and make him work for them...

also!!! maybe i am hallucinating and reading too much but did anyone else think that caleb has somewhat of a crush on mc because that line... "you wouldnt understand even if i told you" and his sadness when mc wont trust him and wont let him protect her... gdi game.

yes i am coping hard. please game dont do this....

#love and deep space #love and deepspace #i am coping so hard atm #cmon look at him hes sooooo jekejndkwd #tinfoil hat theory but ive seen this trope happen before i will stand by this #if not this is my hc game you cannot take this away from me

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b1rds3ye · 8 months

Note

hi!! this is my first time doing a request so idk if I'm doing this right haha but uh, I was wondering if you could do like. yknow the masked one you made for the 141 (I can't remember the name rn💔)? I thought of like, a sequel idea. like, what if during combat an enemy manages to take reader's mask, and so reader panics and like, rips the enemies throat out with their teeth (or if that's too violent, just goes basically rabid on them lmao) and how they would react?? if this is too violent or specific dw you don't have to!! anyways, I love your content it's totally awesome ur writing is amazing! have a good day!!

YES I LOVE THE BADASSERY AND THE UNHINGEDNESS!! If I'm your first request I'm so flattered anon pls do feel free to drop by again <333 Also just going to do general rabidness because ngl the throat thing sounds like an infection speedrun and we want our masked reader to stay nice and healthy <333

Word Count: 1.2 (it got a little long WHOOPS)

Warning: Canon typical violence, reader does get a lil sadistic and unhinged <333

Beyond Task Force 141 and Laswell, many - if not all - allied soldiers wondered about what lay under your mask. Obscuring even the eyes, your visage was more unreadable than Ghost's. Larger than life, a soldier among men.

There was a running joke that there was just nothing under your mask, perhaps an eldritch horror of sorts. You let the new recruits entertain the thought, it kept morale up as they conjured more myths of you. They said that no one has seen you without your mask. They were partially right.

It simply was that no one lived to tell the tale.

You were never one for close combat, but fighting terrorists was never smooth sailing. The chaos of battle had all of the 141 separated against the tight streets of Las Almas. How uncanny that you could not see your allies but hear their gunfire. Running out of ammo, you couldn't lament at your misfortune as a shoulder pummeling into your chest, sending you to the ground and the air out of your lungs. Head bashing against the floor you groaned as you furiously clawed up to whatever heavy weight was crushing your body. You were starting to make up the figure of a man hovering over you through the blurry haze of a concussion that filled your sight. The distant static of Price's voice through the radio, probably asking where the hell were you but you had more pressing issues at hand.

Through your struggle and flailing limbs you managed to wring the enemy's pistol off of them with a painful twist of their wrist. And they retaliated tenfold, a large sweaty hand reaching down and pressing your head back against the ground. Your adrenaline makes you writhe further, he was going to suffocate you, or worse, poison you with how fucking awful his hand smelt as the stink of burning gunpowder replaced any of your oxygen. But no, he committed a far worse crime.

A singular pull and the grating tear of fabric as your mask is pulled off of your face.

A heavy moment where your enemy looks down at you and his gaze is not like before. It's clear, it's deep. It is not looking at your facade but at you and you are no longer a soldier. You are merely a human, so fragile, so weak. One that is on the verge of death in a foreign land surrounded by bodies of fallen comrades and enemies alike. One whose mythos is all but lost at the victorious and leering smirk of an enemy as they take in your face.

That simply won't do.

Pulling your knee up to create space between you and the man, you pull out your tactical knife from your waist and drive it into his torso. His smile falls only to land at settle on yours below him, just like his blood that trickles as forbidden crimson down your hands and seeps into your uniform. It's disgustingly warm. He grows heavier as he loses all control over his body and you heave to throw his figure off to the side. You stab him once again for good measure. And then again. And again. Quick, short jabs down with a sharpened blade that cuts through uniform, flesh and bone alike. You did not count how many times you drove your blade down, numbers were too complex when your mind was running faster than any comprehensible speed. There was only one goal. To make sure no one knows what happened.

A harsh grip on the shoulder yanks you back up and you swipe with your armed limb to cut your new assailant's neck but they were onto you. Catching your arm, they pull it up as they hold onto your shoulder once again with a tightening grip that digs into your uniform. But they do nothing more, no matter how much you thrash and kick.

"Wake up, Sergeant," your opponent seethes and that voice makes you still, a buoy that floats across through your rage. Deep and grounding and your captain's.

You nearly stumble back but Price catches you before you crumple to the ground in exhaustion. The adrenaline was escaping your body leaving you with barely the energy to stay upright. Your head lolls back for a second before you bring it to the side to look at your direct superior, the remnants of a concussion making your vision blurry.

"You broken?" he asks.

"Negative, sir,” you respond immediately but he looks a little doubtful, a singular eyebrow raised as he inspects you. Not your body, but your face. The dilated pupils and the taut muscles told more than any wound.

"Can't say the same about your wee friend over there," Soap whistles as he tilts his head to behind you. “Christ, you did a number on him.”

You dare turn to look over your shoulder but Ghost already situated himself in front of the body. But between his feet you could already make out the indistinguishable mass of tattered fabric and discoloured flesh. Fresh blood filled the rivets between the cobblestones, the remnants of the body inching its way closer to you-

"Was it the mask?" Simon brings your attention back to him. You nod dumbly. He only dips his head in what you can only describe as understanding as he folds his arms, fortifying his stance in front of the mess you made. You weren’t going to see your handiwork, he was too kind to ever let you.

John drops his hands down to his sides as Gaz approaches you with your mask.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," Kyle offers you a sympathetic smile.

"Learnt that the first day I saw 'em on duty," Johnny retorts and you instinctively smile as you take your mask from Kyle. The hardened plaster of your mask had cracked, the fabric that hugged your neck had become torn but it'll do for the remainder of the mission. Slipping the mask back on, Simon offers a nod of approval while Johnny tugged at the fabric for a few finishing touches.

Ultimately the mission was successful. The task force returns to base and although none of the boys mentioned the carnage you left, there are still whispers of it on base. You had hurried to debrief and get your mask fixed but it seemed some privates caught sight of you and that was enough to spark rumours. Your mask had gotten so fractured that a shard was left back in the streets of Las Almas and revealed one of your eyes to the rest of the world. Such a small organ but so vivid. The privates saw, and more was added to the myth that was you. There was now no question about what was under the mask. No lovecraftian horror or empty space, no monster beyond comprehension. No, what was under your mask was terrifyingly human.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #anon mail ❤️#/*avery checks the mailbox*/#/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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