#I WANT THAT SICK FUCKING HEADPIECE

[intofree]

how did I not notice before that Laura Bailey voices like half the female pawns

[http-tokki]

Who hurt you?

~ bakugou katsuki x reader ~ tags/cw: aged up bakugou, cute, cotton candy sweetness, living with bakugou ~ wc: 400

The first time Katsuki brings home flowers for you, you’re confused. In he walks with a giant bouquet of daisies and baby’s breath, roses and peonies all wrapped in a pretty pink paper and a small little note tapes to the outside. He saw them on his walk to the car, bright and pretty in the little florist on the ground floor of his agency’s building, and he hadn’t gotten you anything since your birthday last month. Yeah, they were a little on the pricey side and money was tight but he was sick of giving you hand made gifts. All those little paper flowers and stars he made for you (he spent a little too long on them because they were so fucking complicated for no good reason) you loved those gifts, giving him the same hand made gifts in return because that’s all you two could afford with living in the heart of Tokyo and both as interns. Regardless of how much you liked the little things, you deserved something big and pretty and expensive so he bought those flowers.

Katsuki sets them down on the kitchen table as he shuck offs his shoes before grabbing the bouquet in search for you.

His eyes quickly scan the space , spotting you sitting at the desk in the corner of the living room; headphones in as you scribble your notes. Part of him wants to scare you, sadistically delighting in the way you scream and grab the nearest object as a make shift weapon. There was something so funny about seeing you attempt to defend yourself with a Shooky plushie. The small and cruel part of him is pushed down as he calls out to you, making sure to have enough volume to be heard over the headphones. You turn quickly, eyes lighting up as you see his face but then frowning at the bouquet in his hands.

“What did you do?” You ask, hesitating in removing the headphones.

Katsuki is taken aback by your response to seeing the flowers. “I- nothing. Why would you think I did something?”

“Because you have flowers and it’s not our anniversary or my birthday or anything,” You remove the headpiece, pausing the pre-recorded lecture on your screen. “So you’ve done something that requires an apology so you’re buttering me up with gifts.”

“What?” Bakugou’s brows furrow. “Who hurt you?”

[ehlnofay]

Pax should have said no.

Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.

(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)

But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.

At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.

(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)

(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)

(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)

(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)

(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)

“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.

He looks up.

At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.

She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”

Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”

“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.

It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?

(She knows why.)

The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”

The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.

Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.

There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.

“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.

It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.

Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.

“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)

I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?

It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.

“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”

Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.

In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”

They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”

(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)

Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”

Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.

“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?

Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”

Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.

Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”

“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”

(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)

(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)

The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”

“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”

A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.

Pax licks their teeth and takes it.

The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.

“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”

[alchemist-shizun]

I was waiting you've been waiting ... MYATB final ep live reaction!

Somehow even later than last night, not only did I work for 6 hours again, I have guests over, but with no further ado let's begin!

first off i am terrified, somehow, even if im sure everything will be fine

STARTING OFF STRONG WITH THE HUAIBAO FANCAM. Does anybody look at first episodes Xiaobao expressions and how much of a genuine happy and warm smile he had, and now it's been SO LONG since we've seen one. Healthy happiness where are you?

Also. If I had a nickel for each time a danmei character falls off a cliff i'd be fucking rich let's BE REAL

lil meowmeow ...

XIAOBAO IS LOOKING FOR THE PENDANT SOMEBODY HOLD ME BACK

IT'S SOMEONE ELSE'S BLOOD XIAOBAO NO WORRIES this is so funny to me

Su Yin it's your turn for some character development come on I believe in you I know you won't disappoint me COME ON

My main question is why make him suffer so much things can be fixed so easily. so easily. oh my god.

Internally I'm also laughing a bit because Su Yin is just saying THIS MAN RUINED YOUR LIFE AND U WANT HIM BACK JUST HOW GOOD WAS THE DICK TELL ME. TELL ME

look at him, moisturized, in his lane, i dont know how the rest of the meme goes but you get it

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. YOU NEED TWO PEOPLE WITH STRONG INTERNAL FORCES. OH MY G O D u mean to tell me both Huai'en and Su Yin need to help him, this makes my ot3 mind go insane. This is beautiful, thank you Que Siming, again, he fixes everything, he is insane

NNNNNNNNNNnNnNnim goinG INSANEEEEE SIMING'S LIL be careful TO JINBAOOOOOOOOOOOOO STOPPPPPP IM SO SOFTTTTTTTT WEEPS WEEPS WEEEEEEEEEEEEEPS.

A few words for Xiaobao in this scene because holy shit. My boy is wholly desperate he'd do anything just to let Huai'en live, his feelings have been a mess for so long but he still finds it in himself to care about him so deeply he's better than any of us

This entire drama has been either of them in bed suffering and the other watching over, beautiful

holy fucking shit they FINALLY kissed. I'm going insane. THEIR HANDS!! THEYRE SO SOFT. Huai'en looks so cute after being kissed, they're so I'm so insane. my children.

i love my sick wife (literally either of them)

THEIR LITTLE SMILESSSS THEYRE SO SOFT AND VULNERABLE I WILL CRY

"swear to god if u and i become like this i give you permission to kill me" the most homophobic gay ever

I think he might really be one of my favourite characters I swear. Give an award to his actor. he is so disgusted by everything I love him

OH WOW OKAY. BATH TIME? Oh my god Su Yin and Huai'en. Here we go. My immediate response is "just kiss about it" but I don't think they will. Their tension would bleed out so easily

OOOO ZHAOCAI'S A MEANIEEEEEEEEEE

huaibao: having a small moment. Su Yin: THIS AINT ABOUT YOU!! i love them all, good god, he is hilarious, his jealousy is visible from three hundred miles

The healing process is so interesting to watch, I could just stare at them work for hours

WHY IS THIS GUY STILL HERE. WHAT. Thats a lot of food for a prisoner. TELL HIM LI GONGXIANG. HE IS SO AWESOME. God I ucking hate this guy.WHY ARE THEY LEAVING HIS CELL DOOR OPEN

HAPPY LITTLE THINGS

"Who am I to be mad at you?" I KNEW ITTTTTT I KNEW YOU'D CAVE SU YIN I LOVE U. WOOOOOOOOO

Heeeeeeeeere comes the cocklockkkk

MY TRIO OF WONDERS TWT <3 MAN the best dumbass trio ever

this is so fucking funny those two are lounging and there the others go being dramatic

im going to cry over su yin and xiaobao's bond again? yes. i am.

Thank u for calling that man a freak xiaobao

SHAOYU?? also this is the first time I see some actual help for starving people, that's a nice touch.

That was the stupidest interaction ever thank you shaoyu

oh he knows. he knows.

XIAOYU EXTERIOR DESIGN PASSION

THE SHADOWS MOVED IN WITH THEM ZHAOCAI NO LONGER ALONE. Also the matching headpieces!

THEY SAVED HIM TWT SHADOWS MY BELOVEDSSSSS

HUAI'EN IS SO HAPPY ABOUT BEING HIS WIFE

xiaoyu istg- HFAHAHAHA SHES DOING IT ON PURPOS. WE'RE ALL LAUGHING AT THEM LIKE ZHAOCAI

PLEASE IM NEARLY CRYINGNFDSAJAHAHAH

HE CANNOT BE JEALOUS ABOUT SU YIN AFTER HE PROPOSED FSJ

NOOOOOOOO WDYM THATS IT??????? NOOOOOOOOO THEY BARELY GOT USED TO EACH OTHERS SMILE. AND NOW IT'S OVER TWT NOOOOOO well that was a wild ride

I dont know what it is about danmei novels and NOT SHOWING ME THEIR WEDDINGS!!! I WANT TO SEE THEM!!

Anyway. WE REACHED THE END. WOW. Insane. Incredible work to all who worked hard to give us our first uncensored Chinese bl, may it pave the path to many more! I had fun waiting for episodes each week, hadn't felt this elated in a long time. I'm sad I cannot look forward to more, but I might get inspired and create some art or fics for this series, who knows owo the actors are too pretty to pass on.

I'm extremely glad we got that Su Yin acceptance arc I have been mentioning, Shaoyu hasn't gotten more bearable but ig he has to mature yet. Xiaoyu was an icon all episode, I must admit, Zhaocai has found his new partner in crime. I also dearly missed Jinbao and Siming as soon as they left :( their energies were something stupendous. I also liked that Huai'en did not go back to see his foster father, he didn't give him the fucking satisfaction. As it should be.

I'm not smart enough to make much more introspection so I think this is where I'll leave it! Come talk to me if you too have nobody to discuss this series with lmao, askbox is always open. Time for a deepdive into the tag now. I hope I see more of this soon!

A big pat on the back to all those of us who suffered to this day. WORTH IT WORTH IT.

HAVE A GOOD NIGHT

[tremendum]

hi!! tiss i, bringer of the art thingy for '''me and the devil'' (fucking amazing song btw, could be applied to both of the men she has been promised to)

anyhow

she :] so thing is i truly do think that how you've described her clothing, the meaning it holds (the meaning she wasn't tought) is truly sick!! it's sutch a visual to me. though i would of hopped she'd worn it longer, continued to be a green ghost through hallways, houting paul in meetings and dreams. i do get when and why she took it off so easily, how it didn't mean as mutch as it could of if not for her mother, the breeding program.

also please do forgive how fucking compressed it is, mspaint isn't a big fan of deetails.

um. i think i could of done better with her clothing, how it flows and folds around her body, like the branches of a willow tree, growing oppon her like moss. but :/, hm, got too into it without meaning to and now we're here. i though of the light backdrop as when she's first on caladan, seeing pauls green eyes and grinding her teeth, trying not to steam. doubt it reads so, tho. (should of given her longer nails caked with blood, but mmmm, hands are fucking frustrating)

and! i had fun with this :], so i was thinking about a past and a more current present form of her? (the pale horror marking her face as she watches how her parents bodies flinch for the last time, black flames and all that. no veil and sword at her hip, warm greens enveloping her as she watches forward ((side eyes paul?))) dunno dude

hope you're well, sorry for the far too many words

HI!! first off im floored and beyond touched that someone was inspired to make something so beautiful based off of what i wrote???? omg? but i have to say this is absolutely stunning! EXACTLY how I imagine reader's clothing/style/everything. you've done incredible work. so talented.

i completely agree!! the clothing and its meaning is an important theme (hopefully that conveys throughout the next couple chapters as well) for the story and I hope you like where it's headed... no spoilers ofc but the symbolic clothing has not disappeared! You have captured the flowing style of the dress and veil so well and I can't even tell you how perfectly you captured my vision for the veil and headpiece and my god the DETAIL you put into it... i am so so touched. its truly beautiful, I keep coming back to look at it as i write the next few chapters!

I love the touch you put with the backdrop - the first few moments when they see each other for the first time and she's just a green ghost, mysterious and simmering under her veil when she sees his eyes. truly fucking incredible art.

also, the blade - it is so perfect. It's literally exactly what I imagined - in the style of Harkonnen blades, similar to Feyd-Rautha's to honor her nameday and their future marriage. and the way you placed it above her head; protecting her, or haunting her. maybe both.

I wanted to explore the concept of preserving culture with this story but focus on how customs and traditions can get lost in the sands of time and within the fall from power. & how the unusual dynamic (Paul knowing about her culture, and her not) shapes their relationship. I think you've done an incredible job bringing her to life - your attention to detail is incredible.

I am so completely obsessed with this, it's gorgeous. If you do feel inspired or would like to create more (the past and present ideas are amazing!! yes!!!), I would love nothing more than to see them and talk about it!! If you don't mind, can I link this post on my next chapter so readers can see it???

I love this so much, and if you choose to make more, i cant wait to see it all :) i could talk about this art forever. thank you!!! you're so talented!!!

[keithydove]

I'm someone who really liked Mel's species, really, but the part where she rarely updated the guides (Parvas and Colden more precisely, Goatasus always received updates) or never made a guide (Zebon and Rainbow Holographic Narwhal) made me upset and discouraged. Also, the goatasus species was kind of getting too… OP? I don't know how it was in the last update, but goatasus could relocate their limbs, not get sick, not have any disabilities and their only weaknesses were also taken away/diminished (Goatasus would die with their heads decapitated, after a while no longer, or their heart being hit, to still survive???). Idk, a species that seemed simple to me ended up something like this, i don't know if I'm being too critical or just exhausted from putting up with this.

YEAHH.. 😭😭 I was honestly really confused on what killed goatasi because. like. the only weakness that I knew of was if u fuckin rip off their brooch/headpiece things off?? idek

What also made no sense is that Mel was dead set on brooches being naturally made things like plants, flowers, fruit, basically anything that can be made without human intervention yet Corundum had a fucking blade brooch?? that’s not naturally made 💀 you don’t find blades growing on trees

I myself have a Zebon + Parva hybrid oc (which I will obviously change the species of but stay with me here) n im gonna be fr with u I just went “fuck it we ball‼️🗣️” I just gave it the abilities of the species that it was based off of/have been shown in characters like Leo (so for example I gave em fire abilities cuz iirc Parvas are basically just a fusion of rabbits n dragons + Leo has been shown to have electricity powers n I doubt that Zebons would have like. water powers or something). You’d really had to dig into ur cranium to create characters under those species I swear 😭🙏

I do wish there was more to Coldens tbh,, and I’m like 99% Mel probably abandoned the holographic narwhal specie cuz now Narla n her sister are just your average run of the mill unicorns

One specie you didn’t mention was smiling demons which I find unbearably stupid that Mel doesn’t want anyone to make ocs of it…. 💀 omggg the demon!! izz smiling!!!!!!! super original donut steal!!!!!!! on some 2018 deviantart closed species type stuff…..

[sinistersinister]

dragula finale liveblog, under the cut. i'll just make one post and type in it as i watch.

warning: spoilers ahead

first thought: a lip-synch? may the best monster win? this is just goth rupaul i guess.

second thought: the boulets are gorgeousssssss i LOVE their headpieces. anna-varney CUNTodea more like

skipping most of the confessionals. i want to be surprised. but i did catch nio's and it's like hoso's, part 2, but it's an important message and it still feels fresh.

love throb's filth idea.

ork remains colombian tommy wiseau. "my filth look is inspired by this... fucking GROSS slug... i found one time in a bathroom."

ork is such a sweetheart. i do not get why the fandom on reddit seems to hate him. i think it's probably classism and maybe a bit of racism. he's like what jay kay said they were-- up-front and honest and 'telling it like it is.' unlike jay kay, ork can actually dish it out AND take it, it seems like. (i do not dislike jay kay, but the way they were portrayed on the show made it seem like they were immature but not in the fun way. i do love a shit-stirrer but i like someone who's more incisive and self-aware about it.)

throb is very sincere and a bit socially inept. which i find charming.

i would have loved to see more of blackberri beyond 'nicey cutie with a beard.' like that weird tangent a few episodes ago about the christian traveling puppet show. like what? hello??? that was FASCINATING? she spent too much time being the producers' friend and not enough time being blackberri. imo.

at this point (~20 minutes in) i think nio's taking the crown.

FILTH TIME!

first thought: ork needs more goop for his slug to be gross. it's just cute, not filthy.

second thought: oh. oh THERE'S the slime. i am literally gagging so that's a good indication this was a 'successful' look. not the first time i've seen that pose from ork tho. nonetheless i would have liked more slime. it's a 'fucking GROSS slug,' so i want slimes and goops!

first thought: blackberri doing some christian puppetry callbacks with that suit. i think that's a good idea. playing to her strengths. it's kind of cute and menacing in an '80s mascot costume that was left in a warehouse and is now mildewed and spooky' way.

second thought: insufficiently filthy. ohhh you ate a raw fish. and? and? put more gross trash in your mouth! nose fell off too!

first thought: throb is also not sufficiently gross. but i love the lewk.

second thought: nvm i am again litcherally gagging. i have a thing about bubbly fluids and i was never more glad for 'switching tabs and looking away.'

fist thought: NIO OH GROSSSSSSSSSS. nio proving that the filthiest thing......is racism U___U. also slopping around in rotting food. that is also very nasty.

second thought: idk there was more potential for nio being gross. she came out so strong and i was underwhelmed by how gross she didn't get. make soy sauce come out of the pig foot strap on!!!!

winner: throb. i think a filth look is successful if it makes me feel sick.

post-show: oh, i didn't know ork was trying to literally puke. it would have been SO good if it had worked. next time put some ipecac on that tail, ork!

HORROR TIME

woah ork has great taste in obscure scary movies!!!! blackberri has a great taste in classic horror movies!!!! the girlies have done the reading!

nio: this could have been a glamour look. giving TITTYcut follies. i think the bodysuit was underwhelming though. same with the hairography.

blackberri: LOVE the idea and i think the execution is 80% there. the glittery blood is SO good. i just wish the skin looked more like skin and less like a trash bag? also lol at the silly little heels.

ork: jesus christ

throb: eh, whatever. why the pregnancy? i liked how unwholesome and distended the belly looked. maybe they could have leaned into that more?

winner: ork. i mean. come on. runner-up: blackberri based on concept alone.

GLAMOUR

oooh i just noticed the boulets' glove nails. we looooove

nio: best face, absolutely the most glamorous face. the bodysuit is good but i think it needs more rhinestones, or encrusted jewels from the sea, or something.

blackberri: nice but not especially glamorous? idk. i need more. and i haaaaated the necklace. it felt so out of place and like something i could get on aliexpress for 10 bux (and not in the ork "make something that cost next to nothing into art" way).

ork: i don't think it's uhhhh glamorous in the conventional way. i like it but i don't get 'glamour' from it. i think the number one ork critique (he can only do one thing) applies here.

throb: lmao this IS goth rupaul. complete with rose petal reveal. weird chest piece too. but unarguably glamorous. face was so good. also, they had the best performance. you can tell they were a burlesque performer. also, their gags finally worked :3 yaaaaay!

the music reminds me of the birthday massacre. nostalgic, to me.

winner: tie between nio and throb. this glamour section was probably the weakest of the three sections.

alright. all the sections are over.

based solely on the floor show i stand by my original assessment that it's nio's show to lose. throb (not memorable but quite good at what they do) and ork (one-trick pony, but that pony can fuckin PERFORM) tied for second. blackberri should not have made it this far. i do not think there should have been a top 4.

judging panel boulets again steal the show. i adore the wigs with the spiky sparkly gelled (?) points, and the luxurious big fluffy (feathery?) collars.

why tf are they hyping blackberri so much? what kind of dirt does she have on them? did something get lost in translation? is it something you have to see in real life and you're missing something otherwise?

aw at the boulets being nice to nio.

love the final lewks. my favorite is ork's because it's a callback to the dbz-looking thing he had for the blacklight challenge. nio's underwhelms me but it's a smart choice for if you're dunked in blood. the makeup is killer. throb's is ehhhh. blackberry's is quite glamorous and put together but insufficiently goth/weird for me. i do like the face pearls though!

YAAAAAAAAAY I WAS RIGHT NIO WON. and ork clapping his flippers in delight again :3

anyway. good season i guess. i hope jarvis is in a mental space where he's good to compete again for titans. and i hope there's nothing terrible that happened between nio and ork.

[dragmiire]

thoughts on the big ganondorf fight(s)! i totally forgot to post them, but i got THOUGHTS INDEED.

okay first off, RLY wish we had a cooler arena for the humanoid fights. Just A Dark Room(TM) felt boring and dull. it would've been neater to slowly walk into deeper and deeper darkness, until finding a light root. then when you light it up, you're face-to-face with The Horrors(TM) (like idk a bunch of gibdo corpses, creepy gloom, whatever) and ganondorf awaiting you. and then you gotta fight in the creepy depths arena lit only by the light root with all the outside edges of the arena pitch-dark and very spooky scary. just. just anything, pls.

MY MAN CAN FLURRY RUSH OUT OF MY FLURRY RUSH?? WHAT. the way i actually screamed when i did a flurry rush (which i rarely do successfully i am SO bad at timing) and he flurry rushed out of it and beat the shit out of me. or when i'd do a flurry rush and he'd just do a sick backflip. what the fuck. why is he so AGILE.

again, HOW IS HE SO AGILE?? he is HUGE and was doing backflips and front flips and flying through the fucking air PRE-DEMON KING MAGIC FORM. if i didn't have to do the stupid army bit every time id love to just go back to watch him do his insane acrobatics.

to beat him i literally had to shove him into a corner against the wall so he'd stop back-flipping away from me. literally every time i would try to hit him he'd slow-motion backflip away and i was going to lose if i did not fudge it a little.

apparently when a dragon dies it causes a NUCLEAR EXPLOSION? PARDON?

also why is it HIS secret stone ends back up on his forehead, but zelda's remains in her tummy?? both of them ate their stones, it made zero sense.

god his demon king form is SO sexy.

lowkey him eating the secret stone, just the intensity of how he seemed to shove it down his own throat? also kinda sexy im weird im sorry.

it took me a total of three hours-ish to beat him, including my first try. as cited to blue, i needed the following to beat him: fierce deity armor (all save for the headpiece at 3 star, headpiece at 2 star), gloom-resistant food, defense-up food, LOTS of gloom removal food, LOTS of heart-up food, and so many prayers.

OH AND I FORGOT, THE FACT HE CAN PERMANENTLY REMOVE YOUR HEARTS?? I WAS SCREAMING?? BRO WHAT THE FUCK??? if i didn't have all that fucking extra heart food he'd have KILLED ME. literally was about to go into a rage if i lost after struggling SO hard.

the dragon fight was super fun and i found it very rewarding, personally, after getting my ass beaten into a blood stain. i honestly don't mind a super easy final fight after a really hard fight, it feels like a lil 'u did it!' final lap.

all in all, i was caught between being SUPER pleased at how hard he was and how they made him rightfully super tough, and also dying because PLEASE nintendo i JUST want to see the last few cutscenes my GOD.

not ganondorf related, but i did like how the game ends with link finally being able to grab zelda, and it was nice to yknow, do it urself. i almost wanted to see what happens if u let zelda go splat but i didnt wanna replay the boss fights if it restarted u. STILL do not like everybody swearing fealty, i didn't like it with the og sages and rauru, ESPECIALLY did not vibe with it and zelda.

idk how to exactly put it into words, it just puts everyone on a subservient level to her when they rly should be kicking the outdated monarchy system to the curb and functioning as equals each trying to boost up their individual societies and hyrule as a whole. but it was rly funny to see link wearing his usual resting bitch face while everyone else is fumbling thru their vow.

[fallen-soul-starz]

I can’t breathe I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t.

My chest feels heavy.. I can’t breathe correctly.. I have to sit here and watch these people not give a fuck about me anymore-… I feel worse and worse every day…what I do wrong…what I do wrong- I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I’m a jinx. Im not good enough… you make me feel horrible and I can’t do this anymore…do you not think of me at all.. I feel so strange constantly…I’m ready to pull off my skin off my bones and bleed nonstop until I feel the relief of death… why do I have to be treated like this…I’d rather them be telling me that everything is wrong with me instead of this..I can tell they’re starting to dislike me…I thought my own best friend would know what they were doing made me feel… also everyone makes it sound like there’s no way to help me even though Ive explained what I need….im desperate…someone out there…why do I endlessly beg and plead for validation I’ll never get…I’m sorry..I’m being annoying…they’re back is all…I know exactly why they’re back..but I don’t think they’ll disappear this time…— I’m sorry if I don’t survive. I don’t know if I can anymore.. it’s all so heavy…. You say you’ll never leave me but you’ve already left…you’ve been gone for weeks now..

I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done…I’m sorry I can’t compare to your relationship…I’m sorry I’m just not good enough for the emotional attention anymore..or even the calls anymore… I’m sorry if I’ve been too much…

Fuck you…I want to hate you but I can’t..I never could hate you…I just want to hate you because you hate me..and I hate the way you treat me… it’s never gonna change though… I want to be at peace… but I can’t have that alive..

My hallucinations…I can barely tell if they’re actually there or just a hallucination anymore..theyve been constant since you left…let’s be honest…you haven’t wanted to dedicate your time to me in a while…I’m lucky to get you dismissing me.. I’m sorry..whatever I did..to fuck it up…I’m deeply sorry..- I can’t do this anymore though… I want any sign to keep going…you didn’t even care to notice my headpiece I made… but everyone else did..you said you wouldn’t ever leave and you need me..but I think you need your relationship more than me…it’s always been that..I haven’t felt seen by you in months since sunflower was here..I love her too, but what about me…I know it isn’t about me constantly.. it feels like it isn’t about me enough anymore…I’m..sick..and tired..of letting you tear me apart and treat me like this….

Will you love me again—? I need a sign to keep going…but I don’t even think you could give me that… I’m sorry I’m not good enough..I’m going to be different and meet you back in this life…just not as me so you like me better.. maybe if I’ll come back as a dog so you seem to like me again… I can’t do this..I’m sorry I’m this way.. I’m sorry you had to meet me…you’ll never have to see me again.. I promise.

[crazyxshit]

Nighttime Activities.

my blog is 18+ (minors dni) & remember you’re responsible for your own media consumption. 

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated!

words: 2.3k

warnings: NSFW! slight breeding kink, penetration, oral sex, slight choking kink, angry sex with Matt! (argument about his daredevil activities)

mcu masterlist | nav

It was twelve am. You knew he had responsibility for his city. He was the infamous Devil of Hell's Kitchen. You knew, appreciated, and were patient about his identity. It took a long time for him to even tell you who he was even though you had your suspicions.

Even now, you could tell that he regretted telling you at times. You hated that he felt like that. That he had to push away everyone in his life for this life. You never let him push you away though. Every time he tried you tracked him down and didn't give up until he told you what was happening.

What you hate the most was waiting. The waiting for him to show up bloody, bruised, and limping. It scared you half to fucking death because you loved him so much. You were the one who would bandage him up and clean his cuts after all. As of lately, he seemed to barely be getting away with the type of people he's been dealing with.

Sitting on his couch, your nervous leg bouncing up and down as you bit down on your lower lip staring absently at your phone you waited. and waited.

It was nearing two am and you don't know when you fell asleep but the sound of a crash startled you. Fuck. Don't let it be anyone else but Matt you secretly prayed.

As you pulled yourself up from the couch, Matt's voice said your name which quickly reassured you. "What are you doing here?" He grunted out, taking off his headpiece while almost collapsing on a chair.

You quickly got out your medical supplies and placed them on the table, quickly getting to work on patching him up. There was blood on the side of his lip, as he clutched his side, giving away the fact he probably had a bruised rib. At least it wasn't that bad. That sucked for you say.

"Waiting for you," a sigh following the sentence as you clean the blood from his lip. "You should've gone home, I could do this myself." He hisses the sentence out defensively, causing you to roll your eyes. "Matt, we discussed this. Stop trying to push me away. It won't work." You tell him, placing a bandage on his ribs. He would need to rest but you knew more often than not, he wouldn't.

"Maybe it should." The three words ceased your actions. You knew he was just saying shit off the top of his head but you couldn't help to be hurt and angry. Why did he have to act so stupid at times? He walked past you, throwing his shirt somewhere standing in a pair of boxers.

"Shut up." You spit back, closing your medical kit, letting his words go into one ear through the other.

He sits on the leather chair in the middle of the room, his absent eyes looking in your direction. "You know I'm right. This is bad for you. You shouldn't have to worry about your boyfriend fighting crime at all hours of the night. Maybe you should go. Go find someone who can actually make you happy. Who can lie beside you and someone who you don't have to fight their war." He says the words with such ease it makes you sick to your stomach.  You knew he knew you loved him.

"God, you're an asshole. You know I love you. I don't want anyone else. I want you Matt Why can't you understand that? Why do you think you're so unlovable? That pushing away people are the solution. You did it to Foggy and Karen and now me." You knew you were calling him out. But you didn't care.

The tension in the chair was firey and tense. The air seemed to bubble up, the electricity between you both palpable. It burned hot, bright, and searing. Like at any point things could explode. In which they did.

Matt stands up and grips your jaw with one of his hands. "You don't know what you're talking about." He whispers, his voice filled with rasp and anger. The sudden action leaves you breathless. Matt's face was so close to yours all you could do was stare into his roaming eyes. Suddenly, you were trying extremely hard to be angry, but your body betrayed every thought. You willed yourself to stop the beating in your core and swallowed the dryness that seemed to fill your mouth.

"I do know what I'm talking about. I love you. And you love me. So stop acting as if people leaving you is going to help your heroic agenda." Softly whispering it. You didn't trust yourself to say anything more, afraid you were going to give up your rapidly beating heart and the wetness between your legs.

He didn't say anything just licked his lips. Fuck he wasn't helping. Then he fucking kisses you. Were you still mad? Yes. Were you going to sidetrack this argument? Yes.

Everything happens in an instant. His hand travels to your hair and then to your neck not squeezing just holding you possessively. His smooth lips attack yours, biting and licking at them. As he tugs on your hair roughly causing you to gaps, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

There's a short battle of dominance while you, interlock your hands, gripping his hair to pull him closer to you. It takes everything in you to not melt like putty in his hands.

He doesn't stop kissing you as he directs you both to his bed. Ripping your shirt off, unclasping your bra. His hands traveled all over. Your hands go from roaming over his bare chest to tugging on his hair. He does the same, tugging on your hair causing you to moan for him. Fondling with your breasts so he could hear your angelic whimpers. He wanted it all from you.

You were like his drug. One he couldn't get enough of. He wanted to worship your body, take his time with marking you. Matt knew his thoughts alone would condemn him but he secretly wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He tried to push you away so much, but each time you came back causing him to fall in love with you more and more each time.

He pushes you onto the bed, taking off your pants and panties in one motion. "You smell so sweet." He grunts against your skin-- licking, sucking, doing whatever he could do to leave his mark on your skin.

"Matt, please. I need you." You practically whimper for him. He makes his way higher--not giving you a warning before he delves deep into you. He works you with his tongue as he slips one finger into you slowly. Your hands immediately find his brown hair tugging on it, drawing him impossibly closer to you.

"Fuck. Matty." The words break out from you. You crave every second his warm tongue and finger are inside you. The feeling makes your body hot and your entire lower body seems to pulse with every passing second. You couldn't string together words just desperate moans and pleas for the man below you.

He speeds up, he slows down, he takes his time bringing you to your orgasm. He switches paces, going slow when he hears your heartbeat rapidly beating. He slips one finger inside you, curling it so it fills you to the brim. But goes fast as soon as your heartbeat relaxes. He adds two of his fingers, pounding them into your hold relentlessly as he draws your climax out, fucking you with his tongue and fingers in ways you've never felt. Sex with Matt has always been good but what he was doing felt different. Like he was ruining you for anyone else.

Matt knew you were on the edge of release. The way your pulse quickened to the way your legs wrapped around him, trying to suffocate his head between your legs. How your hips dug more into the bed like you were trying to escape his mouth. Gripping your hips he held you in place as he's let his tongue alone reach places even you were unaware of.

"Oh my god." You barely breathe out, your climax hitting you like a train as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your body goes weak. Matt smirks against you, liking his hips and spreading kisses all over your body a mix of his saliva and you.

He kisses your hips, making sure to suck and bite at the skin so it leaves marks. He trails up from there to between your breasts, gripping one of them with his hand, and sucking the other.

"Your body was made for me," Matt says, taking your breast into his mouth. You couldn't respond, the feeling so euphoric so you replied with a pleasurable moan. He smirks against your skin, switching from one breast to another, making sure to give each part of your body an equal amount of attention.

He eventually moves up from your chest, kissing your cheek "We're just getting started sweetheart." You look at him, fully out of your lustful phase. Sure enough, a mischievous smirk was on his face.

You catch on to what he says as his hard-on pressed into your thigh. "Did eating me out get you off?" A seductive tone took presence in your voice. It was your turn to smirk now. He chuckles, kicking off his boxers before bringing his face close to your ear. "Your pussy gets wet at the sight of me, so yes it does get me off." He states calmly but his deep voice says whispers, arising goosebumps all over your skin. Fuck he had you there.

He moves back to grip your leg, running his hand over your exposed pussy, collecting the wetness from it onto his hand to lather it to prepare his cock. His head drops, his hair covering his face a bit and It was a fucking hot sight to see.

He roughly but softly grips you closer to him by your throat, slamming his lips onto yours. His tongue slides in your mouth--tasting a hint of yourself. This kiss itself felt like magic. The type of kiss that makes you weak at your knees. The type of kiss that makes a knot form in your stomach. It's a kiss that makes you drunk on the feeling of whirlwind burning romance.

He grunts against your mouth, applying a small amount of pressure on the hand around your throat. Disconnecting from the kiss he presses his head against yours, both of you panting slightly. Tightening his bruising grip on your leg, he stables it around him while pushing you onto your back, your foreheads still pressed against one another slipping inside you in one smooth motion.

You moan as Matt grunts, the pleasure of your bodies connecting with each other. He moves slightly making sure to not cause you any discomfort. You guys could fuck non-stop but you could never adjust to the size of him. His dick seemed to find new ways to pierce your body from the inside and out.

"Do you feel us." Matt whispers, almost panting the words. "Yes." The short sentence squeaks out from you. "The way I slip in and out so easily." His sinful words only seem to make you wetter. You moan out a small pleasurable sound.

It wasn't enough. You wanted more. Wanted him closer. "Matt more. Please." You were shamelessly begging. You wanted your high. Craving it. "Use your words, sweetheart."He spat out. He started slowing down, knowingly teasing you until you specified what you wanted.

"Please. Fuck me. Harder. Faster. Anything please." You begged, gasping between each sentence. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling his face to yours, wrapping your legs around his lower body. Desperately doing anything you can to bring him closer.

His body against yours was a feeling you dwelled in. He began a brutalizing pace, filling you in a completely different way. You could feel him everywhere. Your body was on fire and it was like he reached your stomach, fucking you in the best way possible. Bending your body in a bendable way that only he could do. His pace was hard and rough almost like he was punishing you with his cock.

"I'm going to fill you to the brim. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. Your mine and mine alone." He emphasizes each word, each promise with a hard thrust. "Your close sweetheart. Come all over me. Give me everything you have to offer." He fucks you harder, despite also being close.

Your vision turns white, your body tetters on the edge of bliss as you scream out an "Oh god." finishing all over Matt. He fucks you through your orgasm, not giving you a second to breathe until he's satisfied himself. He does exactly what he wanted to do, finishing inside you and taking a moment to recollect himself.

He eventually peels himself off you and you didn't even realize he went anywhere until he comes back opening your legs to clean between your thighs. You sigh contently from being so sensitive. "Was I too harsh?" The concern in Matt's voice clearly evident.

"No, no." You try to reassure him, not knowing if he even heard you from how low your voice was. A moment later he slips next to you in bed. "I'm sorry, for the record. I love you and I know nothing I can do to make it up to you but I-" You cut him off with a sweet and tender kiss, not letting him finish.

"I know Matty." You used the nickname you called him when you were serious about something. "And I love you more." You whispered, draping an arm around him, resting your head under his. The overwhelming tiredness took over your body and sleep took over before you could register the rest of what he said.

"Impossible. I'd leave this city before that ever becomes true."

[lokittystuckinatree]

Assorted Sylki headcanons:

General

Loki is genderfluid, and goes by multiple prounouns, but I’m not sure about Sylvie. Perhaps she is fluid as well, or maybe she’s cis, agender or a trans woman. My current head-canon is that she is AMAB and uses she/they prounouns.

They are both bi/pan (duh), though I headcanon Loki as gray-aro and possibly poly. Once again not sure about Sylvie.

They have a lot of the same hobbies. Both being huge fans of literature, history, science and the arts.

This leads to lots and lots of deep and nerdy conversations.

Ultimate power couple. Could probably take down Thanos by themselves if they teamed up. They laugh together, they fight together, they teach eachother magic and learn some together as well.

I feel like they would develop some healthy competition here. They love eachother enough to be more proud than jealous if one learns something faster or is more natural at a specific skill.

They totally fight for Mobius’s attention. Mobius is just very happy to have two Loki variants in his life to study. (And be besties with of course)

I’m not saying they adopt kid Loki, but I’m not not saying it either...

They have thier ups and downs but always come back to eachother. They are literal soulmates, after all.

Emo

They still ask eachother if they’re okay.

Loki writes her poetry and reads and/or sings her to sleep. She likes to give him massages or use her enchantment to soothe him.

They love slow dancing, though it takes a little effort to get Sylvie onto the dance floor in public. Their song is “if you love me” by Brenda Lee.

He tells her everything about Asgard, reteaches her Asgardian, tells her about the life she could have had. She tells him tales of things she’s seen and he could only dream of.

Then Loki takes her to Asgard. She gets to meet his family. Perhaps they even manage to go back and meet hers.

Loki helps Sylvie trust again, and teaches her how to have fun and be vulnerable. He is the only person she will cry around.

Sylvie helps Loki love himself and opens him up to life paths and ways of thinking he isn’t used to.

I don’t think they’ll have thier happy ending, as much as I want them to. As much as they deserve. So when they are inevitably parted, they console themselves with the knowledge that somewhere, sometime, they are eternal.

But even eternity isn’t forever. In that eternity, they die hand in hand.

Mischief

They cause a LOT of trouble at family gatherings and similar events. They crashed Sif and Valkyrie’s wedding. The heros, Dr. Strange in particular, are fucking fed up with them. The Peters love them.

Everyone is weirded out by their relationship but still somehow ships it. They receive lots of teasing and “go fuck yourself” jokes, as well as the odd “stop touching yourself and concentrate.” Thor definitely finds it weirdest.

Sick of people assuming they’re related, Loki and Sylvie start playing along and introduce themselves as siblings just to see the horror on people’s faces when they’re caught kissing.

But sometimes they’ll use illusion projection to have some (Ahem) fun in public and/or avoid being walked in on.

Matching outfits. Enough said. Honestly if we don’t get to see both of them donning the full costume in season two...

They shape shift into eachother sometimes to either annoy other people or annoy eachother. On a smaller scale, they’ll sometimes switch their hair colors or headpieces for a laugh.

Trick tournaments. They know eachother so well that is nearly impossible to lie to the other. So they make a challenge of it. They compete to see who can prank or fool who first. The winner gets a...ahem...special treat that night. They’re both incredible actors, so these games get intense.

They tease eachother constantly. This banter can get quite mean, but they both know it’s out of love.

Spicy (18+)

These two have two kinds of sex: tearful, tender lovemaking, and the wildest kinkiest shit conceivable. We’re talking shapeshifting, consensual enchantment, illusions, knife play, and some of the strangest and most messed up foreplay you can imagine.

Some of their faves include King and Queen (on Asgard’s throne), twincest (you know they would), conjuring an illusion they’re fucking in front of everyone they know...walking around in public appearing naked to eachother but clothed to everyone else...

It’s also very good sex. They know exactly what the other wants and how. And they have a lot of it. Everywhere. And in the strangest places. You can’t even imagine the situations they’ve been caught in.

Oh and they’re both switches. Sometimes he’ll dominate her and she’ll finally trust someone else to be in control. Sometimes she’ll peg him. Remind him just how powerful she is, as if he needs reminding.

Loki does this all the time, but sometimes Sylvie will change up her genitals for a twist. Or her species.

When it’s rough, it’s rough. Scratching, screaming, roughhousing, biting. Lots and lots of biting.

When it’s tender, it’s tender. Loki whispers softly in asgardian. Sylvie admits things she never has before. They trace patterns on skin. Kiss tears away.

[astranva]

harry’s child being jealous about the new baby getting all the attention and he has to reassure her that he loves them both the same 😔💔

Title: Pinky Promise

Word Count: 2.7k

Category: Slight angst, Fluff dad!Harry

Warnings: A couple of F words.

I loved writing that omg my heart😪❤

You remember 4 years ago, in September of 2016 when you told Harry you were pregnant. Well, technically, you shouted it out.

Both of you being fans of Adele, you had decided to attend her show in Madison Square Garden.

Harry was already working on his debut album and knew he needed a break, especially when he was a nervous wreck.

You remember it all starting with your lack of appetite then suddenly feeling like eating everything and anything edible. You blamed it on hormones, until morning sickness happened. If there was one thing you absolutely loathed, it was nausea. You remember waking up to churn and throw up, your throat only hurting and your muscles aching due to the fact that your body had already digested the food you had eaten the night before and you hadn’t had anything to eat yet that morning, but your body still felt the need to make you run to stick your head inside the toilet bowl.

The first 3 days it happened, you were alone, with Harry being in the studio after leaving you notes that told you about his whereabouts and that he loved you and couldn’t wait to see you.

Not wanting to trouble his inspiration and progress, you only told him that you had an upset stomach every time he questioned why you looked sick.

You remember one day, after Harry was out with Jeff, that you called your best friend and had them bring you a pregnancy test, choosing to avoid any tabloid-talk.

Your heart was thumping, palms sweaty, nausea already kicking in as you waited after following the instructions.

And then it happened; a cry of surprise, eyes growing tearful as one hand was clasped on your mouth while the other held the test tightly – pregnant.

You knew that Harry loved a lot of people, a lot of things, a lot of abstract ideas, like love. You knew he loved kids, and he had often talked to you about them, telling you that he saw you and him starting a family.

It was why after you knew and had checked up at the obstetrician’s and knew that you were 3 weeks pregnant, you were giddy and excited to let Harry know but had decided to do it in a different setting.

Four days after your OB visit, you and Harry were in Madison Square Garden, singing along with Adele.

You were standing in front of Harry, back against his front, his arms wrapped around your waist, your hand holding on to his arms, his chin on your shoulder as you both swayed with Sweetest Devotion.

It was when you moved just a little to the side, still in his arms, to look at him, Harry looked down at you, singing to you.

“I'm heading straight for you. You will only be eternally, the one that I belong to.”

He gently nudged your forehead with his, pecking your lips. He pulled back slowly, smiling down at you.

And then you said it.

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows shot up, leaning closer, “Can’t hear you!”

You grinned, turning in his arms to cup his cheeks softly, “I’m pregnant! 3 weeks pregnant!”

His world had stopped, eyes going wide as his mouth formed an O, “Y/N, are you joking?!” He had asked with a laugh of surprise, his lips stretching into a grin as he asked, “Baby, are you for real?”

You nodded as you laughed in glee, moving one hand from his cheek and to your stomach, “You’re going to be a daddy!”

And that was what it took for Harry to break down and cry, tipping his head back as he bit on his lip, nose red and veins showing on his forehead as he cried before wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, crying into your shoulder.

Tears were flowing from your eyes as you held him, feeling him pull back to rest his forehead on yours, his hands moving to either sides of your neck, “I love you. I love you so fucking much.” He pulled you back in a hug, one hand moving to the back of your head while the other was on your back, bringing you closer to him.

The 9 months of pregnancy were smooth, as well as emotional. Especially since it was in the 2nd month that Harry went down on one knee, somewhen in the morning when you were both preparing breakfast. You turned around to grab the toast, only to see him on one knee, with a blue velvet box in his hand opened to show you the thin, golden ring with a small diamond in the middle that you knew Harry picked carefully with the thought of how you moved minimalist jewelry in his mind.

“I had a speech and – I don’t remember anything from it other than the fact that I have so many songs about you, and some more, and that I am head over heels in love with you. And that you’re carrying a soul inside you that is made from you and I. I just – fuck, Y/N, I can’t imagine a life you’re not in it and just – marry me?”

His eyes were already glossy, lips pink and dimple there for your eyes to see as he pursed his lips before taking a deep breath.

You had let out a cry, hands on where your heart rested, nodding as you cried, “Yes! Yes, oh my- God, yes, please!” And he didn’t get the chance to stand before you threw yourself at him on the floor, hugging him tightly against you.

You also remember the celebration being very low-key, with only close friends and family there at your house. Gemma, as your maid of honor, had taken charge of the decorations, making the backyard of yours and Harry’s shared house well-lit with all the globe bulbs adorning the trees and walls. The moment Harry saw you in your simple white wedding dress, was one that would forever be engraved in everybody who was present’s mind. He had squatted down, hands covering his face in disbelief before they covered his open mouth as he took you in; laughing bashfully as you, too, took him in.

He was in a white suit, pink embroidered flowers on the side of his pants that resembled the headpiece you wore.

Polaroids were taken, all pictures were taken on film, making everything about the night more magical and sentimental, especially with the 6-month bump you walked and danced around with.

The 9 months of your pregnancy were painful, but not too much for you to feel anything but love for how supportive and helpful Harry was, and admiration for your daughter – Eileen Mae Styles.

Since the moment Eileen came into the world, you knew that she had Harry wrapped around her tiny little finger.

Your daughter was attached to both of you, but you were proud of the character and personality she had at such a young age.

When Eileen turned 3, you and Harry took pride in how you could have a conversation with your daughter, even when it was about how pretty Harry’s butterfly tattoo would look if it was colored. Yes, she ended up coloring it, and Harry loved every moment of having his daughter lying on top of him, coloring his tattoo as he lounged on the sofa while she talked to him about how she likes strawberry chapstick.

It was one day when you felt the familiar feelings of nausea and change of appetite, the reminder of the late period only making one question come into your mind.

That time, you mentioned it to your husband as you ate lunch, who had chocked on his food.

Long story short, you were pregnant – again.

“Mummy,” Eileen called you as you, your husband and your daughter sat in your backyard, letting Isla [Eye-la] get her vitamin D.

Harry was reading a book beside you as you both sat on your swing, Eileen playing and running around with her toys, while you wrote in your journal.

“Yeah, bub?”

She ran towards you, putting both hands on your knees as she grinned up at you before looking down at your 8-month pregnant bump, “What’s in here?”

Harry chuckled, putting down his book to watch the conversation more carefully.

“Your baby brother is in here.” You smiled at her.

“But how? Can I sit there, too?”

You and Harry giggled at her question. “You once sat there, Isla. But then you came into the world, 3 years ago.”

Eileen frowned, looking up at you. “I want to go back again.”

You looked at Harry, silently asking him to help you.

He leaned forward, wrapping his hands under his daughter’s armpits before carrying her to make her sit on his lap. “But then your brother won’t have enough space.”

“I don’t care.” She whined, the frown still on her face.

“Your brother needs all the space so he can grow to meet you, and play with you, don’t you want that?” He asked her softly.

“He-he will take my toys.”

“You can share all the toys with him, bub. He’ll share his toys with you, too.” You cooed, almost scared that your daughter wouldn’t like her brother. Something neither you nor Harry had prepared for.

“But-but you and daddy will get more toys for him. I don’t want him.” She said with a whine, crossing her arms against her chest as she looked down, lips starting to quiver.

You and Harry shared a look, before moving back to your 3-year-old.

“Eileen,” Harry called her name gently, watching as she didn’t look up at him, “Honey, look at me, please.” Slowly, Eileen looked up at Harry, letting the both of you see her tearful eyes. “You know mummy and daddy love you and we always will, right?”

“We do love you so much, bub, and nothing will change that,” You assured her, putting one hand on her knee, “Your brother is also very excited to meet you. He loves you, too.”

“Weren’t you excited the other day to show him your room?” Harry asked, rubbing her back gently.

“Yeah.” She mumbled.

“You have a lot to show him and teach him. You can be his first best friend, isn’t that nice?”

As if she was absorbing what you said, Eileen nodded slowly.

“We love you, Isla. Forever.” Harry said, leaning to press a kiss against her temple.

Turning to look at her dad, Eileen uncrossed her arms to raise up her two pinkies, one reaching out to you, the other for Harry, “Promise?”

It felt as though your heart melted right there and then as you latched your pinky with hers, watching Harry do the same.

“Promise.”

But nobody told you about the hell you’d go through when your daughter was jealous of her new bother, Elio.

The moment Eileen entered the hospital room, holding hands with Gemma, and looking at you as you lied on the hospital bed with Elio right at your side, eyes open as he moved his limbs around, making baby noises, you knew that she wasn’t very welcoming.

Harry was sat on the other side of his son, hand playing with your hair as to comfort you after the pain you went through, and as a simple nonverbal way to thank you. His lips were fixed on the smile his face wore, heart soaring with happiness at the new family addition and the fact that both, his wife and son were healthy.

Eileen looked at her parents, too short to see her brother who was in the middle but hearing him. She was overwhelmed, knowing that she was going to meet her brother.

“Hey, honey!” Harry grinned at her, leaning down a little and opening his arms, hugging her tightly as she ran into them before he pressed a kiss against her cheek, carrying her to place her on his hip, watching as her eyes instantly moved to the newborn baby.

“Meet Elio, bub.” You said tiredly but with a smile on your face, watching your daughter and hoping she would take the new change lightly.

Well, you hoped.

But Eileen had broken into fits of crying, straight out wailing as she threw herself on Harry, leaning her head on his shoulder.

The close family and friends in the room all pouted and cooed, watching the scene.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked urgently, rubbing his daughter’s back.

“I don’t love him.” Eileen dragged as she cried, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck.

Your heart broke, the small smile falling as you looked at Harry in worry.

As if his sister’s cries triggered him, your smallest, Elio, began crying. You sat up, taking him gently in your arms and placing him against your chest, softly hushing him and supporting the back of his head as you looked at Harry, almost pleading him to do anything.

Understanding, Harry stood with Eileen latched onto him, holding her as he walked out of the room and walking down the hall, softly and gently bouncing his daughter to calm her.

“Come on, Isla, please calm down.” He cooed, adding a sigh at the situation he and his wife were in. “Why don’t you love Elio?”

Eileen sniffled, pulling back but keeping her head down, one hand moving to poke at Harry’s pearl necklace – which you and Eileen made him – as she replied, “Nobody will love me anymore.”

Harry sat down on a chair, still holding his daughter just the same. “What makes you say that?”

“Because-because-because he is little, and he needs more attention and I will have no more.”

Harry took a deep breath, letting her words sink it. While it was true that his youngest needed necessary and a lot of attention, he didn’t know how to explain to his oldest that that wasn’t how it goes.

“When you were just a little baby,” He began, looking down at her, “Mummy and Daddy were all over the place. You cried when we were asleep, threw up on us a lot,” Harry chuckled to himself, remembering these moments and taking notice of how it all felt like it was only the day before, “You wanted Mummy and Daddy with you all the time. And we never left you,” He concluded, “So what makes you think that will leave you now, Honey?”

Eileen didn’t reply.

“Your brother still can’t talk. He can’t say when he’s hurt like you do, he doesn’t even know how your favorite blueberry pancakes taste like. And we need to make sure that he does all that, exactly like you. But here’s the thing,” As though he was telling her a secret, Harry leaned to whisper in her ear, “Mummy and Daddy can’t do alone. We can’t do it without you.”

Eileen slowly looked up at Harry, face losing its frown.

“We promised, Isla. We promised to love you forever. Have we ever broken a promise?” He asked, watching her shake her head, “And we won’t. So what do you say? Can you, please, give your brother the chance he needs? He’s actually quite funny.” Harry smiled at her.

“Funnier than you?” She asked.

Harry laughed, “Way funnier! You just have to keep a close eye.”

Eileen giggled quietly.

“Mummy is really excited for you to meet Elio, you know? Was telling me all about the numbers you can teach him, all the photos we’re going to take of the both of you. What he’ll get you for Christmas.”

“Can he get me a book about stars? With pictures?” She asked excitedly.

Harry grinned, peppering her face with kisses and hearing her giggle, fully knowing that it was one of his most favorite sounds, “You tell him.”

Once he stopped, Eileen let out a sigh, her shoulder slumping. “Fine, Daddy. I will try.”

“Thank you.” He smiled gratefully, “How about we go back?”

The moment a knock sounded on the door before you saw your husband with your daughter in his arms, you didn’t know what to expect.

Looking shy and bashful, Eileen clung onto Harry as he returned to his spot after sharing a look with Anne, as if telling her that he would tell her later.

Elio was back in his spot as well, going back to his noises.

Eileen looked down at him once again, finally taking notice of how tiny his hands were and feeling curious. Reluctantly, she leaned down a little, intending to poke his hand softly.

But the moment she touched his hand, was the moment Elio wrapped his hand around her finger, making her grin. “He’s holding my finger!” She squealed as she giggled, “You’re right, Daddy. He is funny.”

9,789,345 likes

harrystyles: Conversations. 

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Unabridged: 109 (1978)

The X-Men, those plant-loving mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 109) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne

Ororo not noticing Moira casually drowning Banshee or Wolverine being punted around by some poutine-roided idiot because she’s too busy eating the Piotr-shaped eye candy is such a mood.

I wonder what my ethnic curse would be. Perhaps: ‘By Mata Hari’s bedazled bikini!’

Plot-wise, issue 109 is not that dense. Half the issue deals with the X-Men coming home from their space-adventures, the other half has Wolverine dealing with the Canadian government coming to claim their lost asset. I mean, Claremont uses three pages to tie up some loose Shi’ar ends through flashback because the last issue couldn’t fit it all in. It’s by its very definition a breather issue.

Doesn’t mean it’s not awesome.

WHERE TO START?! Why not with plant mommy Ororo?

Storm’s secondary mutation has to be that her hair always looks like a fabulous follicular cascade, even during an indoor spring shower.

Look, if I had weather powers, I’d probably be using it for mundane shit like watering my plants and ensuring nice weather at my friend’s weddings too. (Okay, maybe sometimes I’d zap dudes who tell random girls in bars to smile more.)

While Storm talks to plants and takes all her clothes off, Kurt does the other thing I do after a rough day at the office: he calls someone for some nookie.

I love that Amanda is so extra that she gives out signed photos of herself.

Kurt just looks so fucking cute here. Look at those little fangs! Yeah, Amanda, get it.

Like a lot of people to whom communication comes as easily as breathing, Piotr is defeated when faced with a blank letter. Look at that trash can: he’s tried this waaaaay too many times.

Anyway, I think “Sorry I haven’t been writing, was busy saving the universe. Weather’s lovely” has a nice ring to it.

Star Wars had been out for around half a year when this comic was published, and it’s safe to say Claremont was a huge fan. You can tell by the direction these comics are taken: the whole Shi’Ar space opera is obliquely inspired by Star Wars and Star Trek and their aesthetics. I mean, Corsair asks to be beamed up and there’s even references to a captain “Spo’ock”.

It was the end of the 70s. Everybody wanted to be a Skywalker: space was big, y’all. Nightcrawler loving the movies is not a coincidence - I wonder if Claremont was also a fan of Errol Flynn.

Anyway, we follow Kurt one more floor down, where he spooks Scott, brooding at the window. The result is an unintentionally hilarious interaction, where Scott and Kurt discuss Real Issues Like Men while Jean comes out to her parents outside.

“Mom and dad, I’m… the Phoenix.”

“Honey, we figured you might be when you introduced us to Misty Kn… Wait, what?”

To be fair, being possessed by a cosmic force for rebirth is almost the same as being gay: it imbues you with fabulous new insights, you start experimenting with your wardrobe and ever so often, you want to burn down the galaxy because some bitches in a gay club have slighted you.

But all that will come later.

Anyway, Jean’s kinda silly coming out leads to a pretty honest heart-to-heart between Nightcrawler and Cyclops. Scott tries to give Kurt grief because of his happy-go-lucky attitude, and Kurt gives him a deserved put-down.

Life can be unkind, Scotty, so embrace the kindness provided to you by a wise little devil.

Scott prefers to brood and Kurt is hanging with Amanda, so it’s a foursome - maybe even a double date? Moira and Sean, Piotr and Ororo. Logan asks for a ride - not because he wants to eat cheese and crackers among ants, no, he wants to blow off steam.

The X-Men’s chicken or egg: did Logan’s sideburns decide the shape of his headpiece, or did the headpiece shape his haircut?

I started reading the X-Men just when the Marvel Universe was starting to reach the height of Wolverine saturation: he was simply everywhere. Like, at some point, he was in X-Force and the Avengers while also being a Headmaster of the Jean Grey school. Add to that him being the face of the Fox X-Men universe… Listen, it was easy to get sick of him. I kind of did.

But this? Original flavor Wolverine, who’s still kinda short, kinda ugly and kinda stuck being a loner? He works as a character. Chris Claremont is beginning to explore his duality: the wild animal who has been experimented on vs. the honorable man who would do anything for his found family. He gives me major Granny Weatherwax vibes: he’s the kind of person who doesn’t need people, but he does need people to know that he doesn’t need people.

So yeah, he's still cool.

Also, his healing factor hasn’t been kicked to superhuman levels yet - you know, being able to regenerate from a single cell or whatever - so he actually feels kind of anxious when he’s about to toss himself off cliffs etc.

Not happy about that red belt, though.

Anyway, Wolverine is out doing the noble hunting-without-killing-thing, and then this motherfucker wrapped in a flag shows up. Look, I know I have something against dudes who brandish their nationality as their superhero identity, but this fool is just… ugh.

James MacDonald = the worst. Trust me on this.

Major MacMapleleaf then punts Wolverine across the forest, right into the other X-Men’s picnic, and now we’re all caught up.

Out of all the X-Men in this issue, Sean gets the least amount of screen time but, hey, at least I can steal a joke from him.

Don’t worry, despite the martyr/pièta pose, Moira will turn out just fine!

You weren’t worried?

Anyone?

Look, is there anyone who genuinely likes Moira as a character?

James Hudson, being the worst, doesn’t give a fuck that he just cross-fired an innocent woman - er, innocent as far as he knows, at least - and just nopes out of there, too outnumbered to fight the X-Men.

Yeah, you better run.

He vows to return with Alpha Flight, which… Eh, he’ll at least bring some more interesting characters with him. (Snowbird!) Now that he has sown enough seeds for a future plot to pick up on, Claremont calls it a day. I will also call it a day, after a little fashion watch. Out of all of these character, who has chosen the worst outfit?

Scott. It’s Scott. Look, I get that those ruby quartz glasses make the world a different color for you, but you’re wearing a mustard suit and a bespeckled yellow shirt underneath. Even when considering Moira’s attitude, it’s still the most stank thing in the doorway.

Sean, just what do you see in her?

[secretsniper2]

Just a “Touch up”

You always wanted to do something outlandish, all the other girls had gotten something done and bragged about it non stop, it was driving you crazy! So you decided to get something done yourself, nothing major, just a touch up. So now you sit in the doctors office talking with the man who would be operating on you, you explain that your only looking for a light touch up to your face so your friends will notice instantly. The doctor explained that at 19 years of age “there wouldn't really be much they could do” but you were adamant that you get it done. Date set for 2 weeks away you cant wait!

Time flew past with more of the same, your friends bragging and you roll your eyes every time, your certain they will envy your face when your job is done. The date finally arrives and you head to the clinic to get started. Sitting in the waiting room your not alone, there is a creepy guy with a green hat, sitting in the corner, every time you look over at him he is staring at you. “can i help you?” you ask and he stands and walks to the counter, asks for something and is given a grey folder and a pen, taking both to his seat he begins to fill out a form. “bit late to fill that out” you think to yourself, oh well. A Nurse walks into the waiting room with a piece of paper, “Layla!” she calls and you stand and follow her into the room.

Walking through the single door you notice the main table in the middle of the room, and a few covered tables to the side, at the other end of the room is a wide double door your unsure why they need 2 doors for 1 side and a single door on this side.. “ehhh” you think to yourself as the Nurse gives you your gown to change into and as your the only 2 in here you strip down and put your light blue hospital gown on. it barely goes past your pussy! Tying it on securely your just in time for the surgeon to walk in with 2 folders, 1 blue and the other grey like the man in the waiting room. Flicking through both folders he leads you to the table to begin your surgery.

Laying down on the table it feels weird, like the table itself can be pulled apart due to how it shifts beneath you, its certainly not all in 1 piece. The surgeon begins drawing lines on your face where he will be doing his work, as you had discussed. Looking up to the ceiling you see a camera pointed right at you, clearly for medical reasons you feel more lines get drawn on you.  Taking a needle from a shelf he explains “this shot will feel weird and you may get confused, its to ensure you don't feel pain”. Holding out your arm your given the shot, it feels warm as you lower your arm back onto the table, the warmth spreading through your body, its pleasant at least, the warmth flowing up to your head and your hit with the confusion he mentioned. If you were standing you would fall over instantly, but your laying down so your head just rolls to a side, completely relaxed. As the warmth continues to roll down your body it hits your tight pussy and you start to feel a little aroused, at least your legs are closed but with this gowns length its only a matter of time before your lips start showing your arousal.

Continuing down your legs your toes go numb as the warmth hits them, it tickled at first but now you notice you cant move your arms either, you begin to breathe faster as you learn just how little you can move, its just your head! everything under your neck is completely still. Acting as if nothing is wrong the surgeon walks up and puts a headpiece on your face, bit weird as that's where your getting work done, and all you can see is darkness, nothing else. your body tingling all over from the shot earlier and with your vision limited your sense of touch has increased, your now acutely aware of the hairs on your arms standing up, it is cold in here though but your beginning to panic a little.

A sudden burst of light floods your eyes and after a few blinks you see yourself, from the camera hanging over your body, you see everything, almost the whole room! Worse still you see what the lines on your forehead are, he wasn't tracing out lines, he was writing “Fuckslut” on your forehead! examining your body from this perspective you can see your bald pussy peeking out of the gown, raising your arm for the shot must have pulled the gown up! your pussy is exposed! you can see the glistening from your arousal which has only gotten worse since it started, a hand reaches out and grabs your thigh. the surgeons unwanted touching makes you sick, but your pussy just cries out for more touches and you hate that your body is reacting positively.

Walking up beside your body he reaches out and grabs your breast “what the fuck” you think angrily! who does this guy think he is?! as he squeezes your perky C cup breast, moving to the other and repeating after a minute, leaving both your breasts a little sore but your nipples have reacted to the abuse and you can already see them poking against the gown. your head flooding with shame as you see them get harder and harder as his hand snakes its way up to your smooth neck and holds your throat. caressing your skin he loops his hand under the neck of the gown and to your horror, pulls hard and you feel the tight knots you did earlier come undone as the gown soars off your now completely naked body!

You cant believe what your seeing, your 19 year old body laying flat on the table with nothing covering you, your nipples reacting even more as they get even harder than they were seconds before, and your pussy is drooling with need, your humiliation has only begun and you know it. Watching in horror as the hand moves from your neck, sliding down your smooth skin to once again grasp your breast, your nipple being pinched hard this time, you hear him say “this size wont do, ill have to fill them out a bit” and worse still, you hear another unseen man say “you have the chart, make it happen” your eyes scanning the room as much as you can see, but you cant find the source of the second voice! Movement draws your eyes back to the hand as it slides easily over your smooth, flawless skin and glides over your pussy and fingers dip between your lips. Fluid now flowing out as he probes your most private area with his fingers, expertly drawing more and more fluid from you, clearly knowing what he is doing as he brushes across your clit forcing sharp sensations to stab your mind.

Pulling your legs open you see a separation in the table and sure enough the surgeon separates them, putting a brace on the inside section he opens them wider, catching your ankles in the process, and as the table continues to widen, so do your legs. Pussy now completely accessible now to even the most aimless of people, the surgeon brings a covered cart over to you and upon removing the cloth your witness to needles and a scalpel among other tools. Your terror reaching new heights as a needle is taken, full of a pink liquid it is moved straight for your clit, eyes almost bulging out of your head as the tip sinks into your precious bulb, but no pain, at least he was honest about that. Pushing the tip in further you see him injecting the fluid inside your clit and it actually begins to bulge, blood flooding to your nub forcing it to grow out, pushing its hood aside it now sitting out, you cant stop looking at it, its 3 times bigger than what it was!

A flash of steel and your eyes dart to the cause, the surgeon holding the scalpel now moves in on your engorged clit, slicing from the base and moving to the tip you see blood and you have no idea what he is doing to you.. placing a cup over your clit you see him attach a pump to the end, its a suction cup! you feel him pumping away your sensitive clit moving further away from your body, so sensitive the pumping continues will its 8cm out of your hood, then its bandaged to keep it out and exposed, “if she messes up you can grab her by her clit now and lead her anywhere you want” you look at your once adorable clit, you think “i could give my clit a fucking handjob now!” and its almost big enough too. pumped full of blood the sensitivity is through the roof, and because of the fluid he injected your clit with its completely rigid and standing straight out, not bending at all..

Taking 2 more needles from the cart he aims them for your exposed labia, penetrating them your injected with a blue liquid this time, and you feel a instant burning in your pussy as he injects you multiple times around your pussy and even your inner lips get 4 injections. Heat burning away as your arousal forced your pussy to clench and fresh juice squirts out, not a orgasm but it may as well have been, your so desperately horny now and there's nothing you can do! Watching in terror as he gets more needles and walks over to your breasts, 1 needle in the tip of your nipple and the orange fluid is injected followed by the burning sensation in your breasts, “experimental drugs are illegal but im sure you dont mind right” “not at all” the 2 men agree. both your breasts are burning from the inside as you feel them growing! you can almost see it happening right in front of your eyes, your C’s are growing to D’s!

Whatever the injections were they work fast and your not liking this at all! Taking a device from the table your pussy is opened up as he looks inside. “not a virgin” your surgeon says then a very long needle is inserted in your pussy. reaching far inside he hits the entrance to your womb and injects another drug, “what's going to happen to my poor womb?!” you think “there we go” he says, “she should be hypersensitive to touch now” not waiting for a invitation he touches your clit and you orgasm on the spot, from a simple touch! “now for her ass!” you hear him say as you come back down from the orgasm, a brown liquid filled needle is jabbed into your asshole and your filled once again with a burning sensation, likely being made hypersensitive like the rest of you. Looking to your breasts for a moment your stunned at the DD set your now carrying! your breasts are huge!

“Care to sample the goods?” your asshole of a surgeon says and you see him, a green hat moves into your sight, its that guy from the waiting room! You watch as he pulls his cock out and stands between your open legs and pushes into your soaked pussy! forcing 3 orgasms simultaneously from you as he thrusts in, pushing straight into your womb pulling a further 5 orgasms out of you! your mind is going numb already! you have never cum so many times so fast! your sure no woman has in history and yet here you are, a slave to the orgasmic hell these men have forced on you.. The man in the hat pulls out to your entrance again and thrusts once again straight to your womb, so many orgasms you only thought it “kill meee..” as even your voice in your head trails off in the pleasure. As he slams his length into you your clit gets rammed hard by his body and your rewarded with another 6 orgasms! “its not possiblee-ohmyfuckinggod!” you think as your mind melts through your gushing pussy!

After what seemed like a eternity of orgasmic hell, having well over 50 orgasms the man in the hat moves to your chest, hopping on you he slides his cock in between your DD breasts and begins thrusting hard, you have given a titjob before but it never feels this good! your already cumming just from having him fuck your tits! and he clearly enjoys his time as you feel a splash on your face and mouth as he cums on you. “can we make that more fun for the slave too?” he says, your mind stopping at the word “slave” what did he mean by that? your name is Layla for gods sake! you came in here for a touch up and your being transformed into a cum crazy slave?! you watch as a clear liquid filled needle is brought over to your face, your mouth is opened with no resistance, and your tongue is jabbed and filled with the fluid. “this will ensure the she enjoys giving you head as much as you enjoy receiving it” he said with a laugh!

Your mouth burning as the surgeon returns you your pussy and grabs your clit hard and begins playing with it, forcing you to cum instantly with each stroke, having a further 12 orgasms pulled from you in seconds and he is still going! your eyes roll back into your head as you cum wildly! your mouth still open from the injection some of the mans cum drips into your now open mouth and lands on your tongue, you never did like the taste of cum but this was different.. though you cant move it the cum just slides over your sensitive tongue and you can taste it, somehow you love it! it tastes amazing!, hearing something click your head drops backwards as your eyes look down at your body through the camera once more, the green hat man is lining up your throat for some fucking. Nothing you can do but watch this man fuck your throat, as his cock enters your mouth it pushes your tongue to the floor of your mouth, and you can taste his cock in detail. “s-so tasty!!” your mind screams as he begins pumping down your throat!

“i think were almost done here!” the surgeon says loudly and you hear a grunt of agreement from the man as you feel his hot load pump into your throat as he pulls out, raising your head back up and locking the table back in position, the surgeon stops pulling orgasms from you as he releases your hypersensitive and overstimulated clit, you couldn't count how many times you came if you wanted to.. Watching as the man in the green hat beings a bag over, he pulls some small devices out and places them beside you, “how long will she be paralyzed?” he asks as he does, “5 hours at least.” the surgeon replies, “5 hours of immobile hell?! fuck!” you think. Watching as the man places 2 devices on either side of your nipples and tapes them there you recognise them as vibrators.. “the sick fuck is going to keep making me cum?” you scream mentally.. a thick dildo is placed between your tits and turned on, it feels amazing already!

Watching in fear as a series of vibrators are stuck to your solid clit, covering it completely. A long dildo is pushed right into your pussy and into your womb, pulling more orgasms from you, and finally a scary long dildo is pushed inside your virgin ass, the sensation is incredible for your first time, you can feel it as it moves further and deeper inside you. a foot of rubber cock now fills your tight ass! you can see your pussy gaping open as the dildo doesn't even stick out a little, the man pulls a pair of panties from the bag. black and shiny you realize its a latex lined chastity belt. pushing your clit through the large hole in the front, the panties push completely against you, orgasming immediately as the latex hits your pussy, form fitting almost as it hugs your hips perfectly, metal on the outside you see him lock them on and lower a weird ring around the base of your clit and snapping it shut locking your clit in the belt. At the push of a button your whole body cums instantly as every vibrator activates at seemingly max power!

8, 20, 36, 53.. orgasms every few seconds as your clit visibly shakes as each vibration quakes your mind and body, your pussy and ass vibrating furiously as the tip of the cock in your womb wrenches more orgasms out of you. in the first 10 seconds you have already lost count of not only how many times you came, but also where you are! “my name……. is.. Laylaaaaaaahhhhhhh” your mind dribbles out, “fuuuck-ohmygodnooo!!” you would be screaming if you could. Your mask is removed and your eyes dart around looking at the man in the face clearly. you burn his face into your mind as the man who stole your life, but with his large beard you cant make out much! “FUCK! im cuuuuuuhhh..“ your mind trails off. countless orgasms pulled out of your body as the wheels on your table are unlocked and you learn why there are 2 doors on 1 side of the room, its to fit the table.. wheeled through the doors you see a carpark, and your new ride.. a car boot. Your body is folded up with the surgeons help and your bound into a doll almost, still cumming furiously as your placed in the boot of this mans car and locked inside.

Its dark inside, your body still cumming and you cant move even if you wanted to.. a life of sexual slavery at the hands of this man.. You wanted a Touch up, and now this man is going to touch you up any time he wants..

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 11

Breaking the group apart, several guards escorted each participant to their rooms. Cara lost the comfort of being in a crowd, feeling exposed like a specimen on a microscope slide being scrutinized. The white sterilized hallways were suffocating, leaving a bad taste in the mouth. The people around her stopped talking to her. Now they talked about her as if she wasn't there, not a human being glaring at them and their fancy clipboards.

She lost track of the many security doors they passed, each one requiring a key card for access. Her eyes kept darting back to the door they came through, painfully aware of how much farther away it shrunk with the growing distance. Her gut screamed. Any further, and she felt she may never see the exit again.

"Boy, this was a bad idea," Cara mumbled under her breath, fidgeting with the loose seams of her collar. Of all the times she was stupidly impulsive, this was the worst. She should have never trusted a shady advert at a bus stop.

Cara never spent much time in hospitals. She was never sick enough for her parents to even consider taking her. God knows she needed it in the past. The point is, maybe this was simply a phobia of the white coats. Fear of the unfamiliar triggering all these emotions and the bad taste in her mouth.

This situation reminded her of when her parents left her five-year-old self in a car on a record-breaking heatwave. She was stuck with the windows closed for over an hour, delirious from the heat and struggling to breathe. Her trip in the oven ended when her parent came finally came, casually going about their business without a look at the back seat. At least her torture ended then when her parents returned. But here, there was no one to help her. She neglected to tell Claire and all her friends what she was up to. Looks like all the lies are catching up to her.

Cara had no idea where her worry came from. She came here by free will and had yet to see anything illegal. The money was within reach, but the nerves couldn't be soothed.

Cara started walking slower than the guards, hoping to give them the slip. Of course, they noticed, grabbing her arm tightly. She was shoved forward hard and almost stumbled face-first onto the white tiles. The hair on her nape stiffened, and she raked her fingers through her hair, clenching her jaw.

"Hey, what's your problem? I was trying to follow you. It's not my fault you were walking too damn fast," Cara snapped, scowling at the men. She didn't like how they manhandled her, throwing her around like an object, physically steering her this way and that like an infant who couldn't take direction. Three grand wasn't worth this treatment, or so she told herself. She was, Afterall, very, very desperate for money.

"Don't you want the money, little girl? It's super easy paper. In fact, the checks are already signed and ready, sitting in a drawer somewhere. They just need to be distributed by the good doctor," Tilting her head, Cara watched the knowing look shared among the three guards. Their smiles were anything but friendly, looking more like a wolf than a human.

Crossing her arms, Cara narrowed her eyes. " If the money was so good, why don't you join the study?"

"Why would I do that when I could be helping poor, unfortunate, folks just like you get themselves out of poverty. I'm all about the charitable work."

"Oh, of course. Thank you so much, sir. I was so desperate for help. I'd be homeless if it wasn't for your generosity." Cara patted her eyelashes, grabbing onto the front of a guard's bullet vest. "It's getting cold again, and I only have the clothes on my back. How could I live-"

"Shut the fuck up and keep walking. Don't even think of causing trouble. We have a special place for such folks." shoving Cara away, the guard placed his hand on his gun holster. She received the message loud and clear.

So much for the charity work.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir," her smile turned into a scowl as soon as the men's backs were turned. She dragged her feet as she followed them, racking her brain for some sort of plan, mentally willing time to move slower. She needed time to think.

The alarms in her head rang louder. Beads of sweat collected on her forehead despite the frigid air of the hospital. She needed to get out immediately. But how?

She was shoved into a room and forced into what resembled a dentist's chair. With one final warning look from the guards, they exited the room through the automatic sliding doors. She sprang out of the chair as if it burned her. She felt even more trapped, her eyes darting around for an exit. The door was the only way out, and she didn't have the key card. She was utterly fucked.

A woman's voice sounded over the speaker system sending Cara sprinting to the corner of the room, her back pressed to the wall. Heart hammering against her ribcage, it threatened to jump out of her throat. Realizing the voice was recorded, she still couldn't relax even as the standard messages about handwashing and proper coughing etiquette played.

If only washing hands could get her out of this situation, she'd scrub her skin raw.

Two researchers, a man and a woman in white hazmat suits, walked into the room. Cara inhaled sharply when she noticed the syringe filled with a neon green fluid. It was carefully contained in a glass case held by the woman. Cara's eyes stayed glued to the syringe as they came closer, barely listening to what was said about her and to her. Their questions fell on deaf ears. In a trance, all she saw was neon green.

She absolutely knew that the contents could end everything as she knew it. Death in a bottle, or in this case, a syringe no wider than her pinky.

"It's easy money, kid. Relax, it'll be over before you know it." the woman holding the syringe said, slowly approaching Cara as if she were a cornered animal.

Cara's preparedness to fight for dear life disappeared when a taser struck her in the stomach. Waves of pain shot through her body as her muscles turned to jelly (the liquid kind). She was on the ground, and they were on her before she even realized what happened. she couldn't lift even a finger.

Her mouth refused to work, and all she could do was whimper pathetically. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her eyes pleaded with whatever tiny speck of humanity the two had left. All she saw was desperation for results at all costs, greed, and over-ambition for recognition, a cold and calculating look.

Cara thought it was all over, or maybe it was simply her fear of needles blowing all her emotions out of proportion. Either way, she will find out very soon.

Shutting her eyes, she tried to relax, hoping for a quick end. She tried to imagine herself back at school getting a vaccine like all the other kids in her grade. She was usually called to the nurse last due to her last name. It always left her waiting and dreading until every last kid received the shot before it was her turn. By then, many kids would make up stories about the pain and how they found needles stuck in their bones, inflating her terror.

Cara hissed as the needle broke through the skin of her neck, clenching her eyes even tighter. She refused to look, scared of what she might see. The woman's finger moved over the plunger, ready to apply firm pressure.

A pager went off, screeching. It startled everyone, and the woman holding the needle suddenly jerked her hand. "Shit! The needle broke," she snapped, examining the shortened tip. She not so gently forced the broken tip from Cara's neck, squeezing and pinching until it emerged.

Boiling over, the woman yanked out her pager. She was going to make whoever interrupted her experiment pay very dearly. As she read the message, her face paled, and she stood abruptly.

"Who paged?" the man asked, quickly glancing between Cara and the woman.

"you 'know who', wants to see me, something about a possible security breach." the woman answered with a warning look after giving Cara a once-over. She understood why. Names implicate people, and whoever is on the other end of the pager does not want their name casually used.

"Fine, for now, take the girl to her room until I deal with this. They are too damn paranoid around here."

Only then did he remove the taser, and Cara inhaled with greed. Finally able to use her muscles for more than gasping for breath.

---------------

Seeing her body quivering as she walked, he didn't see a need to call for escort guards. He didn't see the kid as a threat and was sure he could handle her on his own. He never knew anyone get so lucky, but it won't happen again. The inevitable was temporarily delayed. Pretty soon, her heart will pump not only blood but a very valuable virus. Dying for umbrellas ambitious is an honor.

Taken to another room, Cara struggled to keep up, her body exhausted from the endless shocks she had endured. The room was tiny, barely big enough for the bare twin-size bed and metallic toilet. Cara knew she had to do something quickly. A chance like this won't come again.

With an idea forming, Cara hoped she still had a dab of luck because what she was about to do was incredibly stupid. Leaning against the wall, she clenched her stomach and cried in pain.

"The fuck's wrong with you? The man approached her cautiously, and her eyes flickered to her target.

Once he was close enough, Cara grabbed the taser clasped to his belt and jabbed him in the neck with the highest voltage. His body went slack, and she grabbed his head, smashing it against the metallic toilet with a loud crunch. She repeated it for good measure, watching as the body lay limp on the floor.

She wasn't sure if it was the adrenalin, but she barely remembers donning his biohazard suit and pocketing his key card before rushing out of the room. Cara had to remind herself to behave normally, to slow her breathing to avoid inciting suspicion.

The suit fit her poorly, hanging on her frame awkwardly, clearly meant for someone taller. But the headpiece helped conceal her face a little. If anyone looked at her from behind, they wouldn't immediately think it's a run-away test subject. It was a tiny bit of comfort.

Surprisingly, no one stopped her. The researchers, assistants, and guards ignored her. If they gave her a second glance, she wouldn't know because of the helmet. They were each in their own world, fussing over clipboards and busy yelling at assistants for every little thing. The air was thick of tension, putting everyone on edge.

The place was a maze, full of endless hallways of white. She thought she would fuse with the white walls in her white suit before she was ever found.

"Cara," someone behind her growled her name, and she froze, holding her breath. The voice was thunderous, and she couldn't focus enough to hear their next words.

She didn't need to turn around to know Wesker stood less than two meters away.

The voice was unmistakable. She'd know it anywhere. But how did Wesker recognize her from behind? The suit left only her face visible. She had no idea why he was here and why he was angry. Well, she did steal a biohazard suit and injured a researcher. It wasn't hard to connect his overtime activities to a hospital run by Umbrella. Now he really might kill her, clean up a mess long overdue. Especially now that she likely pissed off his employers.

Cara pretended not to have heard him, attempting to casually walk away with her head down. Hearing his thunderous footsteps behind her, she broke out into a sprint.

She sprinted into a crowd of researchers, taking random turns in hopes of losing him. She ran until she no longer heard his steps and became even more lost in the maze-like building.

The room she ducked into contained several workbenches lining the walls, complete with microscopes and other high-tech appliances. Thankfully, no one was in the lab.

A jar caught her attention containing something between a cross of a human baby and a lizard. It neither moved nor breathed, and Cara concluded it must be a dead experimental specimen. Things like this must be illegal.

Approaching a workbench, Cara peered into a microscope. While she found the cells colorful and interesting, biology was not her strong point. She had no idea what she was looking at. But it definitely wasn't a plant cell. There were too many tentacles. Maybe it was-

Grabbed from behind, Cara screamed as she was yanked hard by her arm. She kicked and pushed but could free herself. Her voice died in her throat when the headpiece of the suit was yanked off her head. She was left gaping at Wesker, barely noticing when the headpiece was thrown across the room, taking down an office lamp with it.

"I knew it was you," Wesker spoke in a carefully controlled tone, but the edges were jagged.

"I-I can explain!" Cara stammered, feeling the edge of the desk cut into the back of her legs as Wesker cornered her, their chests touching.

with a curl of his lips over his teeth, his smile did not match his eyes. "Oh, please do go on. Explain what you're doing here." He seemed like a different person; eyes warped into a miserable pit of ice.

"Why are you so mad?" her voice quivered under his piercing scrutiny. Cara knew she fucked up but didn't want to admit this to him. "They said the drugs should be-"

"Safe?" Wesker said with an ominous smile and threw his head back, laughing without humor. "Half the participant won't make it out of this experiment alive. Even if they survived, there is no way they would be allowed to leave."

"What?" Cara shook her head vigorously. "If they knew it'll kill people from the start. Why the hell are they going through with it? Why? This is a hospital for god's sack."

"Simply because Umbrella can. They do what they want, and the locations of the experiments are irrelevant. It could be in an orphanage or a sewer, and they will still get their results."

"They are fucking monsters. How could someone so evil run a fucking hospital?" Cara swallowed, thinking about how she almost became an experiment. How many of the participants were already injected? Were they already dead? How important were the drugs for someone to be willing to kill unsuspecting people for data? The cure for cancer? What a fucking joke.

Her questions were endless, but Wesker had his own.

"It's called business, sweetheart. Now, why are you here?" He asked again, but she knew he already had an idea. What was the point of putting her stupidity into words?

"I... got evicted. They were offering money and-"

"Why didn't you tell me? you could have come to me,"

Cara gapped at him with wide eyes, feeling a loss for words. "Why would you help me? wouldn't this help you get a problem off your hands?"

"Sherry cares for you." she didn't know if she had imagined it but, something flickered in the depths of his icy blues.

"Sherry, right? Is this really about her? are you sure it's not you feeling something in your cold dead heart? But how could you feel anything? you're a monster covering up the work of other monsters."

"Watch yourself, Cara. I make one phone call, and you'll be the next body piled on the others sent for incineration after the good doctor gets what he wants from you. This could all happen in less than an hour." He hissed

Something snapped inside of Cara, letting loose a current of emotions too fast to control. She was too tired, exhausted from clutching the bar with all the weight dragging her down constantly. No matter how much she had told herself to hold on a little longer, she didn't see an end to the stress. Her problems only seemed to grow heavier. Her blistered hands and broken arms couldn't hold on for another second. she let

"How long are you going to threaten me for? You know what? I am sick of it. I'm done! I'm done!" Cara shoved at his chest, her voice rising in octaves. "I'm here! Come, and get me motherfuckers!" she screamed, Choking on her sobs. She didn't care what happens next. All she wanted was for the stress and the fear to end.

Spreading his fingers through her hair, Wesker pulled hard. He tilted her head up, his eyes setting her ablaze. Cara swallowed, running her tongue over her chapped, dry lips. She felt as if she was looking down a cliff. One step forward, and the jagged rocks below would greet her.

Cara's eyes widened as his chin tilted towards hers in one fluid motion. Her words were lost the moment his mouth came down, claiming hers. Her gasp was stolen, along with her ability to breathe.

In moments of confusion, she would lean into his touch, remembers who he worked to protect, and she would rack her nails over the skin of his arms. He let her hurt him, pulling her even closer, and she would let him.

This was so wrong. So very wrong and so was how much she wanted him to continue. Her lips moved on their own accord, responding to his touch. Her fingers slid over his chest, feeling the engraving of his badge. The moment she kissed him back, Wesker pushed harder into her.

She tried to focus as Wesker's lips brushed her own, hungrily devouring everything. His hand left her hair, sliding down her neck while his other hand snaked around her waist, fisting into up the material of the biohazard suit. She let him lay her back on the desk, his body quick to cover hers like a warm blanket. She anchored a hand into his belt, tugging blindly. She wanted- no needed too many things and didn't know where to begin. She wanted the suit off her scorching body and his damn belt undone, but her shaking hands could do neither.

Shoving her away, Wesker abruptly turned around.

In a moment of clarity, Cara could finally think clearly without the cloud of haze Wesker brings. She couldn't believe what had just happened, staring at his back, dazed and speechless. She touched her swollen lips, feeling them tingle.

Wesker's jaw was tense, and it took him extra moments to steady his breathing. While Cara still sat flustered on the table, Wesker had recovered his well-kempt appearance just as three guards burst into the room, guns raised.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" He answered in his usual tone, completely unaffected, and Cara hated him. He was quick to wear the mask, too damn good.

A look of recognition crossed their faces, and they immediately lowered their guns, taking cautious steps back. "Captain Wesker, what business do you have here? Dr. Stanford was not notified about you taking a tour of the wing."

"I sent one of my employees to test the security, and she made it all the way in here and escaped the test room. Let the head of security know that I would like a word with him...soon." Wesker said before grabbing Cara's arm. "Have a good day, Gentlemen. You may go now. There is no threat to Umbrella in this room. Go spend your efforts where they are needed."

Reluctantly, the men followed each other out of the room, leaving Cara alone with him. Her heart pounded in her chest, feeling the room shrink. She couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, busying herself with unzipping the biohazard suit. The clasps and zipper kept slipping away from her clammy fingers, refusing to open. After multiple failures, she aggressively tugged on the plastic material to rip it off, but its thickness taunted her. Of course, these scientists only worked with high-grade materials.

Feeling long fingers slid up her back, Cara's hands froze. She held her breath, every muscle tense. Warm hands covered her cold ones, dropping them to her side as they took over the task. With a few clasps undone, her neck was exposed. The hair on the back of her rose as the cool nipped at her skin. Something soft touched the base of her neck, and she gasped, realizing they were a pair of lips. Slowly, they spread featherlight kisses towards her throat, then her chin. Her face was on fire, steadily gaining degrees.

"Relax, I'm not going to eat you, dearheart," Wesker whispered against her skin.

Cara pushed him away, desperate for some distance. "We shouldn't be doing this. This was a mistake. I-"

"I don't make mistakes," with one firm tug, the suit dropped to the ground, pooling at her feet. Cara felt all the warmth migrate downwards and shivered, feeling her stomach play host to angry butterflies. She still had her clothes on, but she felt naked in front of him and yearned for the scorching suit to cover her again.

"Come, it's time to go," Wesker turned to leave, and she exhaled, her body losing its tension. She couldn't bring herself to move, glaring at his back. She chewed her lips and sighed at the confusing thoughts now occupying her mind. There was enough stress in her life, and this was the ripe cherry on top.

Noticing her lack of movement, Wesker paused at the door, "I know you want to continue, but this is not the place nor time. wouldn't want anyone thinking they could join in,"

when she thought her face couldn't glow any hotter, it proved her dead wrong. "You go ahead. I'll take the bus. It's safer." Cara rushed to the door, but he hooked a finger in the back of her shirt, pulling her back.

"Nonsense. a young lady like you shouldn't take the bus this late at night. wouldn't want you falling into the wrong hands."

"Like there are worse hands than yours." Cara retorted, slapping his hand away, but they just went on to wrap around her waist. She was ready to munch on some fingers when the hand suddenly disappeared just as a couple of researchers passed them in the hallway. They all greeted him as 'Captain Wesker' before making quick strides out of sight.

"Oh yes, there are. Ones holding scalpels over your skin as you lay paralyzed,"

"Have you... have you dissected before?" Cara swallowed, glaring at his hands as they continued stealing touches. Those hands hurt and killed innocent people, yet she couldn’t fully say they were unwelcome.

"I was a scientist before I was ever a cop." she hated people who dodged questions, skirting around the sinkhole but never falling to the bottom.

"So... you did? Or not?" she frowned, failing to read him. his long strides made it harder for her to keep up, forcing her to almost jog after him.

"Give me the badge you stole from the researcher. I don't want it leaving the building."

"Come on, it's a simple yes or no,"

Stopping suddenly, Wesker extended his hand, palms up. " The badge, now." The order was clear, and she struggled to do the opposite.

Huffing loudly, Cara ignored his outstretched hand and shoved the key card beneath his bullet vest before walking away.

"Cara," He called out to her, and she couldn't help but pause. His voice had a way with people, lulling them to do his bidding.

With arms crossed, Cara glared at Wesker. "What is it? I already gave it back. It's not broken. I just used it."

"Since you know your way around the hospital so well, why don't you give me a tour?" He smirked, leaning against the wall, his eyes following her movements.

"I'm your employee, right? I Gotta do my job properly. I was checking for security threats over there, but it looks like the hallway is clear. I'll be checking this way next" Cara turned around and began walking down another hallway, her hands over her eyes like binoculars.

"you're still going the wrong way dearheart, it's this way. I ought to demote you for your lack of direction," Wesker smirked, nodding in the opposite direction she was going.

Cara followed, admitting that she had no clue where she was going. She pretended he wasn't walking ahead of her trying to focus on everything but him. it was hard, given how she nearly let him have everything. No matter how many times she forced her eyes away, they kept soaking in the way his muscles moved beneath his uniform as he walked. How was she supposed to behave around him now? Pretend it didn't happen?

With his words fresh on her mind, Cara nibbled on her nails. ' I don't make mistakes.'

What was she supposed to do now?

[hils79]

Monday Fic Recs

Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji (The Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi)

hope dangling by a string by kouriarashi

Lan Wangji had never had call to perform the spell of silent communication before he and Wei Wuxian joined together to fight Xuanwu. He figured it was temporary. Spoiler alert: it wasn't.

Or: the AU in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian psychically bond in the cave, Wei Wuxian overhears Lan Wangji thinking about the fact that he actually likes him, and after several minutes of confusion, is fully on board with this.

This is such an interesting idea executed beautifully. I was absolutely hooked while I was reading this

your refuge in the bitter cold by foreverkneeld

After the events in the Cave, Lan Wangji goes back with Jiang Cheng to Lotus Pier.

It’s amazing how one small change affects the rest of the story entirely. This was an absolutely fascinating and riveting read.

grow by cafecliche

“Okay,” Jingyi says, as Sizhui puzzles this out aloud. “Okay! So the demon has been turning its victims into children.”

“I think so,” Sizhui says.

“To make them easier prey,” Jingyi says.

“Yes,” Sizhui says.

“So—” Jingyi’s voice cracks here, “this kid is Senior Wei.”

Wei Wuxian, still tangled in his own massive robes, blinks politely at them.

(Or: Wei Wuxian is cursed on a night-hunt, and the junior quartet rapidly finds themselves in over their heads.)

I love a de-aged fic and this was so sweet and gave me a lot of feelings

dream of a funeral; hear of a marriage by defractum

The news spread around the cultivation world quickly: Hanguang-jun would take whomever was skilled enough to take the Gusu Jade Token from around his neck as his cultivation partner and spouse.

Ten years later, Wei Wuxian is brought back into Mo Xuanyu's body, and he is awfully confused as to why random cultivators keep trying to attack Lan Wangji.

This is a really fun idea, but there’s actually a lot of feelings packed into this fic as well

hunters seeking solid ground by attila

“Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian repeats. His heart clenches. He wants—but he’d really meant to have this nightmare stuff down before they met again, so he wouldn’t find himself relying on Lan Wangji’s nearness. He’s not supposed to go back yet. But he’s so tired, and his will crumbles. “Yeah,” he says. “All right. Take me back to Gusu with you.”

This is just 24k of hurt/comfort and it’s beautifully written

your heart, two doors down by ficklish

It begins with a stray clementine, half-peeled and trailing rind, rounding the corner and rolling down the hallway. Lan Zhan has just stepped into the lobby of the apartment complex, grateful for the reprieve from the heat. He blinks, bemused, and watches as the clementine rolls to a stop just behind him.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying start off as neighbours but soon find themselves fitting into the spaces in each other's lives like they were meant to be there all along.

This is just so sweet and adorable

Content Warning: Romance by ariaste

Wei Wuxian just wants a little warning before Lan Wangji says nice things. Lan Wangji just wants to love on his husband, thanks.

Kink can be soft, and this is so very soft. 

something wild calls you home by fleetling

The innkeeper looked at them all, and then turned to Lan Wangji, clearly noting his robes, headpiece, and sword. “Chief Cultivator,” he said, stammering slightly. Lan Wangji didn’t sigh as he sheathed Bichen, but it was a near thing.

Jiang Wanyin scoffed as he watched. “Take us to his room,” he snapped at the innkeeper, and the man led the sect leaders and their first disciples to the room that had been Wei Wuxian’s.

The first thing Lan Wangji noticed was the red-black blood smeared on the floorboards, and then the black flute sitting in the centre of the room, innocuously still and plain.

(OR: Wei Wuxian is kidnapped. Somehow, this leads to Lan Wangji playing Chenqing, Jiang Wanyin revealing he thought they were already married, and a few love confessions.)

I really love the idea of LWJ getting to play Chenqing

Zhao Yunlan/Shen Wei (Guardian)

like the deserts by yantantether

Somewhere far below, Shen Wei is counting on him, and Zhao Yunlan is so fucking useless he can't even find a way to help him. He imagines a future without Shen Wei around to complain about the state of his fridge, bully him into eating vegetables, provide his effortlessly startling insights into SID's cases, and kiss him until he's nothing but a mass of nerve endings, and the thought makes the emptiness inside expand until it begins to swallow him.

Oh god the worry and yearning was so palpable in this I felt like I was going through it myself

家教 - or - Domestic Education by rageprufrock

Shen Wei is the Ghost King, born out of the unyielding chaos of entropy that had consumed the underworld before the creation of the wheel of reincarnation. He's the cosmic guardian of death and all her darlings, and the universe through the lens of his eye is rife with demons, hungry ghosts, and shadows creeping out of their places. So there is absolutely no way he is getting sick.

This is so sweet and domestic and touching. I love getting to see more of Zhao Yunlan’s family

You Had One Job (take off your mask and smile) by starandrea

Allied Dixing turned a blind eye to any and all indiscretions committed by the foreign General Kunlun. The Black Robed Envoy owed Kunlun his life, so the Dixing forces would never speak against him. The Envoy defended his people with every power he had, and they followed without question.

They followed both the Black Robed Envoys, not that everyone believed there were two of them.

Oh I love the idea of Shen Wei and Ye Zun working together, and Zhao Yunlan being the only one who can tell them apart. 

Helpless by riventhorn

Usually Shen Wei is the one taking care of Zhao Yunlan when he's injured.

I will absolutely read any post-episode 33 fic and this is another lovely one