the xenk/edgin dynamic is hilarious bc xenk is like edgin🥰i have the utmost faith in you and your oath to me🥰i will gladly save your life and explicitly trust you to do the same🥰it brings me great joy to see you reawaken as the harper you are meant to be 🥰 here take my hand🥰 and edgin is like Fuck U. *takes hand*

obsessed with the prospect of Howdy Figuring It Out via the neighbors enjoying non-food items

Poppy oughta know by now that with Branch, clear communication is absolutely key

pretty girls

pairing : azzi fudd x reader

warnings : smut.

notes : azzi 😍💞💓🌸💗💗🪷💖🥰💝💘🌼🌺🌺❣️💞💞💞 thats all.

words : 1898

you and azzi collapse onto the couch in the dorm, exhausted. drunk. annoyed.

tonight was a dud, to say the least. you’ve barely had any time to go out and have fun, like you should as college students, because of basketball and junior year being the absolute worst when it comes to your workload. and then, on the one night you do have off, free of practice for the next couple days and all your homework turned in, both the guys you planned on spending it with turned out to be absolute dicks.

yours had seemed nice enough, in the beginning. he’d been the one ask you out after over a week of staring you down in your shared econ class, take you, azzi, and the football player she’s been talking to out to some club in hartford, and then back to his place after a couple hours of dancing and taking shots. but just as he’d gotten you back to his dorm and out of your clothes, he’d said something so boyishly disgusting, it’d taken real reserve for you to not to slap him before pushing him off of you, re–dressing, collecting your things, and getting the hell out of there.

it’d been pure coincidence that azzi texted asking if you could meet with her as you’d stumbled out of werth tower, phone in one hand and your heels in clutched in the other. you’re not sure what happened with her and her football player— it couldn’t have been good, judging by how her makeup was running. you’d felt bad, and held her hand the whole uber ride back to the dorm, the pad of your thumb caressing the back of her hand.

“want a water?” you ask the girl, tiredly. you’re still very much inebriated and standing could result in a pretty embarrassing fall.

she nods, though, and so you decide to risk it, stumbling into the kitchen and at one point using the wall for support. you grab two bottled waters and pad back into the living room, handing one to azzi and sighing as you sit back down next to her, close. you can feel the heat from her body radiating onto you.

“that fucking sucked,” you gripe, recalling the night, earning a weak, drunken laugh from azzi.

“dudes…” she says, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her water, eliciting giggles from yourself. a single word is enough to get her point across; men fucking suck.

“ugh, and i’m still wet,” you murmur to yourself, the alcohol in your system removing any filter you’d have otherwise. you and azzi are close, so this is probably the least provocative thing you’ve said to her tonight; you both laugh at the statement. you shift uncomfortably and tug at the end of your dress. you need to get out of this chiffon and take a long, hot shower.

azzi turns to look at you, one of her curls falling out of place. she still looks so pretty, even though her makeup had gotten messy. her big brown eyes and perfect, clear skin and full lips. how could anyone fumble her and live with themselves?

“what?” she giggles at how long you’ve been looking at her.

“nothin’,” you smile back. “you’re just too pretty to be crying over some guy.”

then, azzi leans in and kisses you. she pulls back to assess your reaction, before kissing you again when you don’t look petrified or disgusted. you let her slip her tongue into your mouth this time, and surprise yourself with the little moan that comes with it, eyes fluttering closed. your back naturally arches to push up against her.

you lose track of how long you make out before azzi’s hand finds it way to your knee, resting there gingerly, “can i…?”

“like, finger me?” you ask dumbly, because fingering is definitely a step above kissing. plenty of girls that are straight and just friends kiss each other, even make out. but you and azzi are crossing into the territory of actually having sex.

seeing as you play basketball, the conversation of sexuality has obviously come up before, often. every other morning, actually, as paige feels the need to recount her sexcapades to you all. you hadn’t really thought about yours until you got to uconn, and then decided to quietly give yourself the title of unlabeled, while still just hooking up with guys because that’s all you knew. you didn’t think azzi…

“it doesn’t have to mean anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she assures you, her tone surprisingly casual, like she’s trying to convince you to try a new drink at the bar or attempt a shot you haven’t tried before at practice, not breach the basis of your close but purely platonic relationship. “we’re just having fun.”

you consider your position— on the couch, in the dorm, basically out in the open. the other girls had gone out, too, to ted’s, of course. but knowing them, with a schedule this clear, they won’t be home any time soon. and wet is an understatement; you’re practically aching down there, you need to be touched so bad. what could it possibly hurt?

“okay,” you say, finally, a smile slowly spreading over your features. azzi pecks your lips once more before sliding her hand further up your leg.

never having done this before, you’re nervous as you part your thighs, just slightly, still confined by the tight dress, but then her hand is there, warm palms caressing your skin and inching closer and closer towards your core. you gasp when her fingers finally graze the thong you’d put on, feeling a rush of wetness between your folds at the small contact.

“is this still okay?” your friend asks, voice barely above a whisper, and you nod, almost embarrassingly quickly. so she keeps going, experimentally rubbing you through your underwear and you keep gasping, bordering on whimpering with every touch.

“here,” azzi climbs off of the couch and positions herself between your knees, encourages you to push yourself forward by grabbing onto your hips and finally pushing up that dress. when she finally gets you out of your thong, carelessly tossing the garment aside, it’s less like she’s actually trying to get you off and more like curious touching, unknowingly sending you closer and closer to the edge as she spreads your lips open, drags her index finger up from your slit to your clit. “you are really wet,” she muses, pulling her hand away, bringing her thumb and index finger together just to pull them apart and watch as a thin string of your arousal connects them. you blush, suddenly embarrassed, thighs twitching. “it’s okay, just relax for me.”

she smiles up at you so sweetly, and you’re trying to, throwing your head back and closing your eyes and trying to even out your breathing, but then she’s bringing her face toward your cunt, flattening her tongue against you and licking upward, sending shockwaves up your spine, and you can’t help but squirm and whine. “open your legs a little wider, y/n… good girl,” she instructs, and your head practically feels like it’s swimming at the words, unbelievably sexy in her voice.

“a–az,” you want desperately to grasp at her hair, but know how long it took for her to style her curls, so you opt to just fist your hands into the sofa and cry out when she sucks your clit into her mouth.

the way azzi’s using her mouth so well and holding your legs open with a firm grip on your thighs makes you wonder if this is her first time with another girl, too. she doesn’t look grossed out by the taste or confused on how to make you feel good. if anything, when she drags her tongue down from your clit to your entrance, licking into you, she seems all too happy to responsible for the long, drawn out moan it elicits from you, and repeats the motion until you’re practically crying. when you feel your heart start to hammer against your chest, you know you’re not going to last much longer.

azzi removes her mouth from your pussy, but quickly replaces it with a pair of fingers, working over your clit at high speed while she presses wet kisses to your thighs. all it takes is a few more flicks of her wrist to make you cum, thighs trembling and toes curling into the carpet. she doesn’t stop playing with your clit until your moans turn into winces, signaling that you’re being overstimulated.

you feel almost delirious as azzi climbs into your lap, arms looping around your neck. it feels almost natural for you to place your hands on her waist, looking up at her like she hung the moon. “was i good?”

“i can’t feel my legs, i think,” you rasp in response, earning laughter from the girl, before she leans down to kiss you, the taste of your own cum potent on her lips and tongue.

as the kiss intensifies, you just go with the flow, letting your hands slip past the hem of the crop top azzi had worn. you push the fabric up until its bunched up at her chest, glad to find she went braless, and, tentatively, take her breasts into your hands, fondling them gently. azzi chuckles at your obvious nervousness and lack of experience, but her laughter quickly melts into soft moans as you take one into your mouth, sucking firmly— you don’t think you’ve ever heard a prettier sound. you don’t think you’re going to be able to just go without ever hearing that sound again.

releasing her nipple, you let your free hand travel down to the button on azzi’s shorts, popping it open, and pulling down the zipper with haste. despite the constricting denim, your hand still fits into the opening, past the hem of her panties. you figure it can’t be much different than getting yourself off with your own fingers, so you just go by what you’d do if you were on your own, rubbing slow circles into azzi’s clit to work her up before quickening the pace.

she buries her face into your neck, moans muffled as her hold on you tightens— you take that, and how wet she is, as a sign that you’re doing it right, and continue until you feel her physically shaking in your arms. “fuck, y/n, i’m gonna—” she cuts herself off with a high–pitched moan, and you continue to rub her clit through her orgasm until she stops grinding down against your hand. you rub her back, also, feeling that you’re actually kind of good at this. that you could get used to it.

the exhaustion from the night seems to hit you both like a brick, all of a sudden, and you both just sort of slump over in that position, limbs tangled and all.

I know there's some parts of your fanfiction where Clora has some passing feelings of jealousy because of a comment or two made by background characters towards Sebastian, but I was wondering how you think Clora and Sebastian would genuinely react to a situation where someone was actively trying to pursue him? I was just curious since the raven and the snake have a good bit of people chasing after Clora and Sebastian being jealous (cough physically violent cough)

BAHAHA seb doesnt get physically violent when he gets jealous, he just gets irritated and petty LOL. gotta defend my boi for a sec, hes only gotten physically violent twice, and once was when clora was being blackmailed/SA'd, and the other was when he was corrupted by the relic, so it wasnt REALLYYYY him.

BUT to answer the question, this is what happens when clora gets jealous LOOL basically its: she gets jealous > knows that its unfounded and seb wouldn't reciprocate, so she keeps her feelings to herself > but still cant help but feel down about it > seb catches on and makes sure to reassure her. and seb would 1000% be willing to just never talk to the other girl ever again if thats what it took BAHAHA but obvs clora would reject that and tell him thats way too extreme. and altho seb thinks its cute when cloras jealous, he also doesnt like making her feel that way, since he considers it a sort of failure on his part (like, if ur feeling jealous, it means im not proving that i love you enough LMAO) whereas for when seb gets jealous, its: he gets jealous > tells clora of his suspicions / that the dude is trying to get with her > clora tries to reassure him that its nothing, and that its all just platonic (bc it IS from her POV, whether the dude actually likes her or not, bc shes naive af) > seb has no choice but to put up with it LOL bc he's self-aware and knows he gets jealous easily, and accepts that he might be overreacting, but he'll still keep an eye on it regardless. he trusts clora but he doesnt trust the guys, and unlike seb, clora wouldnt stop talking to someone she considered a friend just bc seb THINKS they like her. unless the dude is straight up asking her out/being super bold and obvious about it, clora would just default to 'oh hes just being friendly😇 LMAO. basically seb is too jealous and clora is too naive and they both know this about themselves and each other, so they kinda have to meet in the middle on these things HAHA. for seb its like yeah fine, i might think every guy has nefarious intentions, but YOU also think every guy is completely pure and has absolutely NO romantic intentions ever LOL. but they know this so it works out LMAO (plus even if it is slightly infuriating for each other at times, seb still finds cloras naivety/innocence endearing, and clora also finds sebs possessiveness/jealousy endearing as well🥰) also unrelated but i finally changed my pfp after a year and its cracking me up. that is all

The real loss of Capcom putting Kristoph in the basement is that we can no longer get any more scenes or context about the weird gay shit he and Phoenix had going on. I think they painted eachothers nails and shotgunned cigarettes together during the late hours and explored eachothers bodies once or twice, you know what I mean. I just feel like we could have had a scene where Phoenix talks about him in passing and says some shit like how when they drank together they only used one glass between the two of them; both because they were close and because it guaranteed to Phoenix that he wouldn't be poisoned by Kristoph if they were using the same glass, and then apollo looks at him like he just said he kissed his old boss with tongue. I just think it would be funny, you know

HAPPY GARASHIR MONTH TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE

I’m gonna defend Seward for a sec here because if I found out that the unsettlingly beautiful corpse of my ex girlfriend was missing from her victorian era tomb, I also wouldn’t assume “she got up and walked away” was the reason.

You know what's interesting to me? For all people keep claiming at every juncture that perhaps Bells Hells will come around on the gods and see the harm they do (which, as discussed extensively, is, half the time, simply not intervening) not only have they never done so, but also they never quite cross the line into saying the party should join the Ruby Vanguard or aid them - and indeed, they defend against it - so what does this achieve? It feels like they're asking for a story in which the party stands idly by, which isn't much of a story nor, if I may connect this briefly to the real world, a political stance anyone should be proud of.

That's honestly the frustration with the gods and the "what if the Vanguard has a point" conversations in-game. What do we do then? Do we allow the organization that will murder anyone for pretty much any reason that loosely ties into their goals run rampant? The group that (perhaps unwittingly, but then again, Otohan's blades had that poison) disrupted magic world-wide, and caused people who had the misfortune to live at nexus points to be teleported (most, as commoners, without means of return). While also fomenting worldwide unrest?

Those were the arguments before the trip to Ruidus; with the reveal of the Vanguard's goals to invade Exandria, the situation becomes even more dire. Do you let the Imperium take over the planet?

And do the arguments against the gods even hold up? If Ludinus is so angry at them for the Calamity, what does it say that he destroyed Western Wildemount's first post-Calamity society for entirely selfish means? (What does it say about the validity of vengeance as a motivator?) What does it say that Laudna told Imogen she could always just live in a cottage quietly without issue before the solstice even happened? (Would this still be true if the Imperium controls the world?) What does it say that when faced with a furious, grieving party and the daughter she keeps telling herself was her reason for all of this, Liliana can't provide an answer to the question of what the gods have done other than that their followers will retaliate...for, you know, the Vanguard's endless list of murders. (That is how the Vanguard and Imperium tend to think, huh? "How dare your face get in the way of my boot; how dare you hit me back when I strike you.") She can't even provide a positive answer - why is Predathos better - other than "I feel it", even though Imogen and Fearne know firsthand that Predathos can provide artificial feelings of elation. Given all the harm Ludinus has done in pursuit, why isn't the conclusion "the gods should have crashed Aeor in such a way that the tech was unrecoverable?"

Even as early as the first real discussion on what the party should do, the fandom always stopped short of saying "no, Imogen's right, they should join up with the people who killed half the party," it was always "no, she didn't really mean it, she just was trying to connect with her mother." Well, she's connected with her mother, and at this point the party doesn't even care about the gods particularly (their only divinely-connected party member having died to prevent the Vanguard from killing all of them). So they will stop the Vanguard; as Ashton says, the means are unforgiveable. As Laudna says, it's not safe to bet on Predathos's apathy. As Imogen says, she's done running; the voice that she used to think of as a lifeline belongs to someone she doesn't trust. So I guess my question is: if they're stopping the people who are trying to kill the gods (and defense of the gods isn't remotely their personal motivation)...do you think the next phase of the campaign is Bells Hells personally killing the gods? Reconstructing the Aeor tech and hoping none of their allies notice? How does this end? Does your ideology ever get enacted? Or is this entirely moot and pointless and the story ends with Bells Hells saying "well, I'm really glad we stopped the people who [insert list of Vanguard atrocities from above]; none of us follow the gods or plan to, but honestly, the status quo we return to is preferable to whatever nightmare Ludinus had concocted in his violent quest for power and revenge"?

relistening to wolf 359 and somehow it always catches me off guard how even the characters that care deeply about each other just piss each other off constantly. eiffel comes back from being assumed dead (and going through hell for months) and stalwart commander minkowski crushes the air out of him with a massive hug but that doesn't mean she's not gonna complain for hours when she has to input the nav data he neglected nor does it mean he won't mute her comms channel when she does

Peacock Au Part 2

Okay so!!! Part two of this post about the DPxDC eldritch Danny fic that I'm now calling the peacock au lmao!!!!

(Chapter two of the fic under the cut) (Edit: You can now find part 3 Here!!!)

-

When the feeling of being just slightly dispersed settles onto the outer layer of his skin while he’s lying in bed, Danny knows what’s about to happen.

The thing is, he’s in his pyjamas. Sure, he could just stay in his human form for the summoning- because he’s done it before and it went fine- but he never knows who it’s going to be, and being spirited away to some college students’ dorm in his pyjamas is embarrassing. And sure, having something appear in the circle in the first place is probably enough that they’re not paying attention to what he’s wearing either way, but he refuses to bank on that. So, with a sigh, he allows himself the transformation, his human appearance falling easily away. 

It always feels more natural to be a ghost during rituals, probably because they’re summoning a ghost and not a human, but still, it’s different. He feels that little bit looser, maybe even a little more himself, though he guesses being a bit more glow-y is just nice generally, and the space decals that tend pop up as part of his whole light-show-summons are a homely touch. On the other hand, it does make it harder to take stock of his surroundings when he finally fades into view wherever he is. He can make out vague grey walls and floors, but that’s about it. 

Well, that and the man in front of him. Blond, taller than him if he wasn’t in the air, somewhere past his forties, wearing a beige trenchcoat and looking oddly terrified. Danny can see his hands shaking just a little. Does he know this guy from somewhere?

“Uh, dude?” Danny calls, going for something light. It’s annoying being dragged from the comfort of his own home, definitely, but this guy doesn’t look like some cult member, and if he’s alone and this scared it might mean he really needs the help. Danny can sympathise with doing stupid things in stupid situations. “You good? You’re not looking too hot there.”

He knows he’s using ghost speak, but it feels weird to use English in a summoning like this, and fortunately, Danny spies a translation sigil wrapped around the inner centre of the circle, so he knows it should be translating right back to the guy in front of him. Very handy for language barriers, he’ll admit- and it’s working, too, if the reply is any indication. 

“I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

His voice is gravelly, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s nervous, doesn’t speak much, a smoker, or all three. Either way, probably not Danny’s business, and right now he’s just curious about what the man’s talking about. “Pits? That’s kinda vague, man. What pits?”

“The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. I… heard you could take care of ‘em.”

Lazarus Pits. He’s heard of those, Clockwork’s mentioned them a couple of times. They’re natural portals that open when enough energy is built up, and end up stabilising into the ground instead of collapsing to help seep ambient ectoplasm into the air. They don’t work as actual portals after that, but it’s vital to keep at least a few around no matter how corrupted they can get through human interference, because it keeps the balance of both realms steady. Having too many around isn’t a good thing, though, and especially not in populated areas. It can cause ecto-contamination, which is a lot more dangerous when you haven’t been around it since birth (or if you aren’t from Amity). 

Speaking of which, it certainly is stinking up the place, now that he’s aware of it. Or maybe that’s just Gotham, he’s heard a lot about-

Hang on. Gotham. Weird potentially magic dude. He knew he recognised him! That’s John Constantine! Danny’s heard of John Constantine! Sam’s got her fingers in enough credible occult spaces that they’re at least vaguely aware of some of his endeavours, but if he’s in Gotham then that probably means he’s doing something for the Batman and, wow, Danny totally would’ve tried to go more professional for this if he knew this was going to be his first encounter with the Justice League,of all things. 

Well, he guesses it’s too late now. At least the guy’s not being too weird about it or anything. “Man, yeah, I’ve totally got the smell stuck up my nose now that you mention it. Do you get that as well? Since, y’know, you’ve probably dealt with a couple ghosts.”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

Dang, the guy seems stressed about this. Maybe he just doesn’t like being in Gotham territory? He’s pretty sure he’s heard of Batman having a thing about magic. “Sure I can.”

“…Will you fix it?”

Danny figures that if they already know about his status through his Zone maintenance duties, and he’s going to be helping the Justice League, he might as well show off a little bit. Assenting with a hum and trying not to grin, he puts his hands to the floor, and lets his ectoplasm reach out to the source of the smell, sending a flash of light across the ground as it goes through. When it twinges back a response, he closes his eyes, and his energy curls around it, threading through like needles to seams, and pushes it shut with a gentle nudge. Luckily, it hadn’t been around for too long- barely fully formed and not even corrupted by human contact yet- it would’ve be a lot more difficult if it had. 

He lets his hands rise up again after a long moment, looking to Constantine for a reaction. He can’t quite gauge what the man is thinking. “Alrighty, that should’ve done it.”

“Uh… cheers?”

He’s about to say something along the lines of ‘no problem’ or ‘you’re welcome’, but then he remembers he should probably warn him about the aftermath so he doesn’t freak. “The pit shouldn’t come back again, but just as like, a PSA: you might see more shades than usual hovering around for the next while. It shouldn’t be too big a deal so long as you leave ‘em alone, though, so don’t worry about it.”

For all that Danny’s trying to be considerate here, Constantine doesn’t look very considerated. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“…Dude, what d’you think I am?”He replies, thoroughly bemused. Isn’t this guy supposed to be one of the League’s paranormal experts or something? He really should be able to recognise a ghost by now. “I keep your Lazarus Pits in check. You know, the pits of the dead?”

Okay, maybe a little rude on his side, but he thinks Constantine’s expression is a bit of an overreaction; he can see the sheen of sweat across the man’s forehead reflecting the light of the sigils. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“Well, I mean, this was a favour for Batman, right?” He asks blithely, pointedly not paying attention to the way the man’s face keeps contorting. He swears Sam said he was more stoic than this. “I’m gonna go- ‘cause I’ve got things to do- but I guess if something comes up I’ll come to you? Or Batman, since this is his city and all. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.”

Figuring there’s nothing left to be said, Danny lets the return sigil on the edge of the circle activate and punt him back home, wheezing a half-sigh and arching his back once the wispy image of wherever they’d been recedes. He probably looks exhausted after all that- no matter how recently formed the pit was, it still takes a little strain, and he’d just been about to sleep before he got summoned- but looking in the mirror on his wall for confirmation, he doesn’t find his usual face. Something twinges against where his spine should be, confirming its own previously unnoticed presence in the mortal plane. 

…He didn’t go ghost when Constantine summoned him, he used his true form. That must be why he looked so nervous that whole time! And, man, ghostspeak never translates over quite right in this form, either- the Ancients use a different dialect to original ghostspeak- the man probably wasn’t hearing what Danny thought he was at all. What if the only reason he wasn’t attacking was because he was terrified? What must Constantine have thought of him? 

Crap. He has to fix this. How is he going to find him?

my favorite wordgirl character, jerma

People playing Ensekai vs people playing JPSekai

alex who is good at heart & said  “good luck” when he rejected you after  “nah... I'm gonna ask someone else” on flower dance festival

and actually care about having friends,

that he has been acting friendly to u even at 0 hearts, in seek of new friend opportunity.

Listen I don't think Ven and Icarus could ever get together except in what if fics BUT what I could see happening is Icarus having a deeply unrequited crush on Ven that they would not be willing to explore because Icarus is under the impression that Fable will be bringing everyone back from the dead. OR post war I could see them developing either a QPR or a romantic relationship as they heal (if they both survive that is.)