#Very traumatic experience with fire

[monstersmutpeddler]

A Soul to Touch: Duskwalker Brides: Book Three

By: Opal Reyne

Monster Scale

Level 05: Advanced Monsterfuckery

Y’know Elias from Ancient Magus’ Bride? He’s basically that. 

My Overall Rating For The Book

"I Bought The Book/Series And Want Them Signed Please Holy Shit"

These two are absolutely adorable together. It's also nice to slow down and take a breather with these two as they just enjoy being around each other and fall in love, despite the time limit 'Kitty' may have.

Overly Simplified Summary

Kitty (or Faunus) may only have a short time left alive, and all he wants is to be around Mayumi, a young woman he saved when she was younger, and who he has been checking in with from afar for a long time.

Mayumi, despite being banished from the Demon Hunter's Guild, still continues to fight demons every chance she gets. Once she is reintroduced to Faunus though, she begins to recover and fight her inner demons.

Keep reading for ‘This Book Has Everything’ and possible Trigger Warnings.

This Book Series Has Everything

[x] Touch them and I’ll kill you vibes

[x] Big buff love interest

[x] Soul mates or fated mates

[x] Love interest and/or main character is hiding something

[x] Plot first smut second

[x] Love interest goes on a rampage when main character is either hurt or kidnapped

[x] Girl ends the book pregnant or is pregnant

It's in the epilogue.

[x] Straight

[x] Dude got an interesting dick

It's big with ridges and tentacles.

[x] Main character and love interest talk about their problems or tragic pasts and heal together

[x] Open communication

[x] The couple has equal power in the relationship

[x] You will likely cry at some point while reading this book

[x] Friends to lovers

[x] Kinky af sex

[x] Love interest is an absolute cinnamon roll  

[x] Lead or love interest gets injured and the lead or love interests drop everything to take care of them

[x] Happy Ending Guaranteed

[x] They purr like a FUCKING CAT

[x] Super scary/dangerous but very gentle and sweet with the one they love

Here’s a link/buy the book!

Trigger Warnings

[x] Kidnapped/held captive against their will

[x] Loss of a loved one

[x] Very traumatic experience with fire

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[eccentricallygothic]

Divorced Dad!Captain Syverson who experiences a real time brain short-circuit when he sees how well you get along with his kids during your first meeting with them… 

Warning(s): Breeding kink, size kink, old man!Sy, age gap, manhandling, groping, fluff, boob play, unprotected p-in-v, I added plot to it TT. MDNI.

. . . 

After the messy divorce that followed his turbulent marriage, Sy was not looking forward to any relations with the opposite sex, if possible. With his former profession a constant hurdle to his life as part of a unionized pair and marital bliss, what had started as a promising relationship had turned out to be one of those unfortunate marriages where children were sought as a last resort to perhaps save the remnants of the already rotten love between man and wife. Though being someone from a background that held family in the highest esteem and always having been fond of the idea of his own lot, Sy loved his children more than life itself and there was not a thing in the world he would trade for them. And that was the reason why he had preferred to opt for an early retirement so custody would not be an issue between him and his ex-wife who was more than eager to shed off everything affiliated with the name Syverson like an illness.

You, on the other hand, though not much experienced with the opposite sex were not too warm to the idea of children. Being a student in her last year of higher education and only so old as you were, your attitude hardly deserved to be subjected to scrutiny. That, and the fact that you hadn't really had many young ones around you while growing up as an only child, calling you a foreigner to the scene would not qualify as an exaggeration and hence it can be said that it is more indifference than contempt on your part. 

So naturally, when it happened, it was strictly unplanned. And very fateful. With a rather traumatized Sy in a sort of an emotional limbo who had more than enough reason to keep to himself, and a stressed with soon approaching future endeavors as well as disillusioned with the opposite sex you, the night you had bumped into each other outside the bar restrooms where Sy had been dragged to cheer up by his friends and you to loosen up by yours, the rather fast yet steady rate at which the two of you had woven into each other had been unexpected to say the least. 

But now, as Sy fires up the grill in his backyard to begin the little BBQ he has planned for today when you meet his children for the first time, the prided and much experienced grill expert nearly burns his hand because he is so busy inwardly fawning over how quickly his rugrats have warmed up to you. And you, Sy will swear on anything that you are just the most perfect woman— person alive. Everything is just right with you. Even on days when the world seems to press down on him, your mere presence is there to help his spirits back up and elate as well as support him in every sense.

Though he had been honest about his condition since the beginning, after his initial reluctance to get with you as you were so much younger and inexperienced compared to him, children weren't peculiarly a topic that came up between the two of you except occasions where Sy wanted to share a little victory or rant with you. So as you keep his toddler on one hip with a protective arm around her, your perfect body -Sy's words- clad in a bonny bright coloured sundress, and hold the hand of his 5 year old who excitedly shows you around the mini patio of the modern farmhouse, memories of his own mother scarce if any, your making conversation with the boy and giggling along to his lisp droning flutters Sy's heart in a way that he thought he had outgrown. 

It also excites him with a kind of boyish heat that the former military Captain had thought he had shed off with his adolescent youth.

And so he just has to have you by yielding to a similar impatience and desperation, the musical sound of your giggles faintly fluttering its melodies upon his flush and thumping ears as he gets to it.

“God, Sy!” The huff in your words fires him up even more and he cannot hold back any longer. “You’re such a brute!” His coarse and scarred paws heavily pull at your dress with a crazed desperation to help you find the restroom, as he had told one of the farm hands that he had left the children under. “Oof!” The whine you let out before instinctively craning your head to try and ease the way his thick beard tickles the tender skin of the curve of your neck makes him growl into your carotid pulse that he worships with his hot lips, the pressure of your pressing your face into his as well as the soft pants you let out, your chest bumping into his with each heave of your lungs, only lithifies his bulging erection even more. 

“Gon' fatten up your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum, baby” Sy's breaths scorch your clammy skin with their burning weight. His hands grope and expose you everywhere they can reach, and they can do so everywhere because of how much smaller hence ragdoll-like you are compared to him. “Wouldja like that, angel?” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he boosts your thighs up his tall legs and around his waist, the fat and leaking tip of his cock grazing against your holes from how he is kissing you everywhere he can reach. “Me stuffing that cute tummy full of siblings for Tim and Bethy, huh?” You know he would never actually do something as serious so callously without a prior discussion so you breathlessly nod, pushing your oral muscles to gulp down the thick bile in your throat and tip your head against the wall to prepare yourself to withstand his intrusion of your pussy that thanks to his girth always feels like not only your first time with him but your very deflowering in general.

 “Yes” your mouth falls open as he reaches below the hold with which he has your whole body propped up. “Yes, please~” his balmy tip finds its destination in the tiny, drenched and quivering closed up band that leads to your reproductive cavern. “Please fimme with your babies, Sy~” when the stretch makes your tiny hole burn around his girth, your mouth lets loose all the obscene words of vulgar desire. 

“Yeah, baby?” Sy's fingers flex over your ass and caress their way up your side before coming down and repeating the action, his thumb stealing strokes of your nipples as he does. “Wanna make me a Daddy, yeah?” A hiss leaves your mouth and your back arches at the feeling of your walls sheathing him deep within themselves. His breathtaking urgency nearly puts a dent in your innards. “Want me to make you all round and heavy here?” Your pussy clenches around the hilt of his cock when he suddenly gropes your naval into a greedy handful.

“Yes, please, Sy!” Your whole form bounces up in the air when the man gives you a thrust so powerful that has you mewling and digging your nails in his shoulders. “Wanna make you a Daddy so bad, Sy!” His dick has always had a hypnotic effect on you, for the minute it's in the vicinity of any of your holes, you become a brain dead parrot for him. 

“Atta girl~” he cooes, tossing your body further up with a strong stab of his hips so he can clamp his teeth down on one of your boobs.

MASTERLIST

. . . 

I am MAD for this man. Like I am not even hot on kids. WHAT—

[hauntingrabbits]

More Batman/My Little Pony au art because these are ridiculously fun to draw. Part 3 here! Part 1 here!

More info under the cut!

1. Sweet Talk/The Harlequin (Harleen Quinzel)

Originally contracted to work as a psychiatrist for the Tartarus villain redemption program, Sweet Talk had a unique relationship with the Joker. This relationship was proven to be even stranger than her coworkers had originally assumed when she broke him out and joined him in his life of crime.

Devoting herself entirely to her new life and relationship with the joker, she covers her original cutie mark at all times. Snce her horn was snapped she can no longer cast precise spells, leaving her magic mostly emotion-based and intensely volatile, (typically manifesting in the form of sparks, zaps, and explosions).

Other Notes:

-Using Tartarus as a substitute for Arkham Asylum for this au because why not.

-The villain redemption program did NOT go well. Sorry Twilight.

-Mostly based on BTAS Harley because I adore the original costume.

-Her horn was cracked by the Joker

2. Pudding Pie/The Joker (The Joker)

Batpony’s most notorious foe. Said to have been just a regular pony until he fell into a vat at an Ace Potions factory during a conflict with Batpony.

He doesn’t have a Cutie Mark, but it’s unclear whether this was always the case or instead a result of his accident. The effects of permanent Cutie Mark loss—the only known cases of which occurred via long-banned magic and/or traumatic injury—are largely unstudied, and it’s ramifications are unknown. Some ponies theorize this may be the reason for the Joker’s mental state and general disposition.  

Sundown has a different opinion on the matter.

Other notes:

-Based mostly on BTAS joker and the ‘89 Nicholson joker.

-His name is just based on Harley’s “pudding” nickname for in in a lot of versions, but I think it would also be hilarious if he was a distant relative of Pinkie Pie.

-I could leave it ambiguous but. Yeah the potion vat didn’t actually do anything beyond slightly altering his physical appearance. He’s just like that and he never got a cutie mark in the first place.

3. Gadiel/Scarecrow (Jonathan Crane)

Raised among ponies, Gadiel was relentlessly bullied for being gangly and birdish, earning him the nickname “Scarecrow” in his youth. Though he later successfully became a professor and psychologist in Gotham, Gadiel was eventually fired when he was found to be testing his fear-inducing potions on his students and purposefully putting them through terrifying and dangerous situations. Deciding to take his experiments to the masses, Gadiel donned the mantle of Scarecrow and weaponized fear to become a career criminal.

As the Scarecrow, he’s known for his skill in manipulation, psychological torture, and crafting dangerous potions and gas. The effects of fear on magical creatures are unique and intense, much to Gadiel’s delight and interest.

Other Notes:

-I wanted to make his front half a crane but I couldn’t get the long neck to work right with the mask, so he’s more crow-like instead.

-according to the wiki 1/3 of Griffin names start with a G so naturally I was extremely tempted to name him Gonathon and you should all be very grateful I did not. The name Gadiel has origins in the bible as the name of an archangel which I thought was fitting given the insane religious trauma some versions of the scarecrow went through. I thought about trying to do something similar for this version but given that the mlp universe uses Princess Celestia as a replacement for God in expressions like “Celestia knows where” and “Oh my Celestia” I wasn’t really sure how to go about it. There’s probably some kind of sun-worshipping thing in equestria idk.

-I spent a long time on the mlp wiki but from what I could find the only “fear” magic in the show is just used by one guy and its just called “dark magic”. I thought for sure there would’ve been some random plant or magical creature they dealt with at some point that maybe did something similar I could use for his blurb but unfortunately there was not.

4. Mandible/Falseface (Basil Karlo/Matt Hagen)

Hungry and deeply resentful of the changeling queen for forcing her underlings to share what little stolen love they had with her, Mandible went rogue early on and split off from the hive to pursue his own ventures. Finding success under the name Claypose as a pony actor in Gotham, he was sustained primarily by the one-sided love of his fans for years, despite the false identity having no real prior personal relationships to leech from. 

After a magical special effects accident on set revealed his true nature, he went into hiding and immediately started crafting a new persona, but soon found in his distress and rage over losing his identity as Claypose that he could no longer sustain any disguise long enough to keep up a long-term facade. Blaming the accident, he targeted the unicorn responsible by posing as his wife to leech his love, but ended up killing the pony in a panic when his disguise failed much faster than he’d anticipated it would. Unable to keep up a new identity or return to the hive, Mandible turned to a life of crime instead, doing dirty work for the bigger criminal names in Gotham and leeching love from his employer’s targets to survive.

Other notes:

-Clayface being a changeling was an obvious pick given his power set but I really wasn’t sure how to tackle the main issue of him being unable to keep a solid form for long. I went with his distress and frustration being the main thing keeping his disguise flimsy (so he gets put in kind of an ourobouros cycle where his disguise being bad makes him upset but him being upset makes it harder to fix his disguise), but the magic accident probably also contributed somehow.

-Why are all the changelings straight up just named after body parts in this show whats that about. The “Clay” in Claypose is obviously a reference to his title/schtick in the comics while the “pose” comes from both his job as an actor and the fact that he’s posing as a pony. Mandible is the name for the jaw part of an insect.

-there's actually an entirely different batman villain called falseface in the '66 series but I couldn't come up with anything better. Changeface just does not roll off the tongue.

3. Winglon/Killer Drake (Waylon Jones)

Originally intended to be used in an entrance exam, his egg was stolen from a Canterlot delivery cart on its way to Celestia’s school of magic and sold on the black market to a Pony Island circus. Raised to be part of the freak show, Winglon was pitted against circus performers and overconfident challengers in ring fights for money and entertainment. Enduring abuse and injury throughout his life from ponies that he was always fundamentally stronger than, it was only a matter of time until he snapped. Garnering the name Killer Drake for his actions, Winglon escaped into the Gotham sewer system.

Not knowing how to return to the dragonlands or whether he’d even fit into dragon society at all, he continues to lurk in the dark away from any life, deeply resenting ponies and all other manner of magical creatures that make friends with them.

Other notes:

-I like silly names ok. Winglon Jones. -I like the theory that the dragon egg used for Twilight’s entrance exam was actually fake/meant to be a no-win scenario, but I also don’t think it would be that hard for enterprising ponies to get their hands on dragon eggs. The practice probably stopped in the later seasons when they made friends with the dragonlands or whatever though.

-Given that dragons threaten to eat or kill ponies at multiple points in the show, the cannibalism is actually kind of understandable. And also not even cannibalism anymore. Still murder though.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Why summoning the Ghost King and Danny when he expects Pariah Dark might literally give John a panic attack

So, this would not be the first time John has summoned something and didn’t get what he expected. To explain that, I’ll have to explain the Newcastle incident, and I will but going to give a brief overview of what the consequences are before dipping into that… because it’s a bit intense

So during a summoning one of the things you need to do is name the being you’re summoning. The ritual and sigils are what brings the being forth. Naming the summoned entity is part of the binding. The binding is what gives you an amount of control over the being summoned and offers protection to the summoner

So having the wrong name means they have no control over what they summoned. Naming the spirit puts it on a leash and muzzles it, having the wrong name is just letting it in without the leash or muzzle

Let’s just say at this point, Constantine’s past experience with summoning would make him super against summoning “the Ghost King” and one of the other magic users like Zatana would have to do it

John would be freaking out the moment the wrong guy showed up, he has some trauma around that. Even if it’s just Danny, this is going to dredge up some stuff and he’s going to have a hard drink afterwards

I will now be going into one of the most traumatizing moments of John Constantine’s life. As such, it’s going to get pretty intense and I’m toning it down a bit

Explanation of the Newcastle Incident Content warning sexual assault and abuse

In 1978 Constantine and his “magic gang” go to the Casanova Club to deal with a bit of a situation there. They arrive and there’s a lot of dead bodies in the basement and a very traumatized girl

Astra Logue’s father was basically a cult leader and an orgy enthusiast. He and his followers did some not so great things to Astra. Astra was psychic, so in her distress she summoned a hellhound named Norfolthing (actually a primordial elemental but that takes explaining) to protect her from the sexual abuse of her father and his followers. Norfulthing proceeded to commit sexual assault against the cult before killing them

John and the Magic Gang showed up to deal with the aftermath. In order to get Astra out of there and get rid of Norfulthing, they decided the best way to deal with this was to “fight fire with fire”

They then proceed to summon the demon/former god Nergal but the ritual didn’t have his name. Right ritual, wrong name. Nergal then proceeded to drag Astra’s soul to hell, Norfulthing raped one of the magic gang

John then spent the next two years at Ravenscar Mental Asylum and only managed to rescue Astra’s soul from hell about a decade later. She was still dead obviously but at least she wasn’t suffering in hell

So yeah

John has some baggage when it comes to summoning things with the wrong name

[jacevelaryonswife]

The way that you move

It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

warnings: porn with 10% of plot. p in v sex. english is not my first language. 1,1k.

Even if it’s recent, your marriage to Prince Jacaerys was very promising and pleasant due to the commitment employed by both parts. Your husband was very polite, good-natured and kind, and you strove to be the proper and loving lady wife that Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir needed. In addition, the engagement period was charming and prepared the ground for a young and happy union, much better than most of the weddings of the other court ladies in all aspects. Or almost all because unfortunately not everything was flowers. The subject in question referred to the misfortune moment of bed that tormented you and your husband.

Neither of you had experience, which made it a little traumatic for both of you, especially painful for you but quite fast too, proving to be a great relief (not crookedly for Jace). Throughout the act the prince remained redder than a ripe tomato and hated several aspects that were part of that situation, the first was not being able to reverse the pain you felt, because he didn’t know the female body to bring some relief to his good wife and because it ended up faster than dornish wine in celebrations. The precocity wasn’t at all bad for the situation, but it wasn’t exactly the virtue that a man should be proud of — but it served to your beautiful face was no longer dented with discomfort.

He apologized vehemently after that and assured that he didn't want to hurt you and that you didn't need to do it again without wanting to, a really sweet gesture that had you waving to him and ensuring that everything was fine. “My mother said the first contacts are painful for the chaste ladies,” you said. And in fact it was terribly uncomfortable, until last night...

Gods, what was that? It was the best physical feeling you felt in your life and it seemed so profane to admit it while letting pleasurable sounds escape your throat. It was so good! And that was the problem!

How should you approach your husband about repeating that night? It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting, so your only mission that day was to find a demure way to ask your sweet Jace to make you come as your friends had instructed. What a scandal! There was no way to say this out loud, not even other ways to approach the topic seemed decent! Everything seemed like a complete disaster until the moon emerged and the inhabitants of Dragonstone gathered in your chambers, just like your husband and you.

The thick sheet that wrapped your body was responsible for hiding most of the bold and light blue lacy dress you wore, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the watchful eye of Prince Jacaerys, especially when he joined you in bed. That was the ideal moment to execute your plan in the urgency of the last minutes, which consisted solely of action.

"Jace, husband, can I kiss you?" You tried to contain the anxiety of what you wanted to happen next by leaning over it gently.

“Of course you can, my love,” he smiled sweetly and his beautiful brown eyes shone with tenderness. He was so adorable.

After many attempts (some slow and others sloppy) you understood a part of the mechanics of kisses and began to appreciate and perform the art often. His full and terribly soft lips were pressed so pleasantly against yours in the initially chaste kiss, who became sensual and lustful thanks to your desire. Oh, you couldn't wait any longer.

Climbing on his hips, you interrupted the kiss to face those beautiful brown eyes. "I want to do what we did last night."

“D-do you, my lady?” He asked surprised, "do you really want to?"

“Yes, husband,” you purred and kissed him deliciously again, playing with his tongue as you moved your intimacy dressed over his groin, making you both sigh. “I want it now,” you said during the kiss, sitting in the center of his body to remove the dress and expose your naked body.

The poor prince followed the whole situation astonished, stunned by his newly existing disinhibition but not a little dissatisfied (just worried). "M-my lady, shouldn't we wait until you're ready?"

“I'm already, my prince, I've been ready since the first rays of sunshine,” you knew what he was referring to and learned from the other ladies that the moisture between the thighs was a positive indication. And you've been uncomfortable wet since you woke up. "Do you want that?"

“I do,” he nodded hypnotized, holding his soft hips to squeeze the flesh gently.

It was not secret that the prince has never been with a woman before and the fact never bothered him, but he would like to have experience to properly satisfy his wife in pleasure meetings. He quickly flipped through a book on the subject as his cheeks warmed up and his limb hardened shamefully. After that he tried to remember some information to use at the moment, such as knowing that women needed time and a certain humidity so that they could feel pleasure, however, almost all reasoning was lost when your hands released his masculinity and involved him. He grunted low in response, breathing hard to prepare for the- Seven heavens!

You sank deliciously into the thick and soft shaft, ecstatic by the indiscriminate sensation of being filled. There was no way for something so good to be considered depravity, no, it was totally adequate, it was so right to jump freely on the cock of your charming Jacaerys and enjoy what he had to offer. The prince was so confused, drunk and excited by the way everything happened that he was dazzled by the beast that mounted him ardently. If in the previous times he made an effort not to end quickly, this time he was begging the seven heavens for the moment to last.

“Take off your tunic, my love, I want to see you,” you said between sighs, moving up and down constantly, moaning shamelessly.

He did what was asked, sitting in bed with you on your lap just to kiss you fervently and pull you down with him, moving your hips with yours. The gesture was much appreciated when his legs got tired of doing all the hard work, limiting himself to rubbing against his groin while he repeated the action, the constant and strong friction.

“Wait! Wait! I need some time... I-I want this to last,” he said between heavy breaths, almost begging.

"Right, right."

— "It's hard to describe, it's intense, hot and your whole body shudders at the sensation. It's probably the best thing you'll feel in your life."

Your friend Belinda's explanation of the apex of female pleasure returned to surrounding your mind again, making you yearn to discover such a sensation. It was torturous to accommodate your husband inside and not be able not to move your hips, even though it was for good reason. And he, well, he was almost exploding with pleasure.

Jace pulled you for an excited and demanding kiss, very different from the ones you used to share but just as good. Good? No, better. His tongue touched yours in a different and sloppy way, which would strumble you

The prince wasn’t blind about women but never dared to give himself to a pleasure before the wedding — he was less man for that. He thought he wouldn’t be so affected by carnal pleasure, but he could not deny that the attraction he felt for his beautiful wife increased every day and each time you lay down together. He longed for it more quietly.

“Keep going, my love,” he held your buttocks when you remained in the same position, moving your hips experimentally to keep up with your pace.

“Yes, husband,” you sighed numb, kissing him again as you moved sloppyly, dragging your hips against his groin. Gods, how good it was.

Although he was loving the position he was in, Jace felt a sudden urge to cage your body against the bed, so he turned you lovingly to take control and pushed your hips against his at a constant pace that stole the air from both of you. The thought that happened in your head was indecent, but it was the complete reality of the situation. It wasn't love made between you and your husband, no, you were fucking with all the lust there was.

He rested his face on your neck as he hit you deeply, the delicious and maddening friction building a euphoria in your unknown stomach and making your walls squeeze madly. “Jace!” You moaned loudly, scratching his back as you held him more between your legs. “Oh! Jace!” Your sight turned white and your whole body spasmed on bed, the most wonderful feeling in the world numbing your senses.

That was too much for him. Both the grip around his cock, as well as your sounds, as well as the call by his name and his own limit sent him to the apex in the blink of an eye, grunting in your ear in such a sensual and deep way that it made you squeeze even more. For the seven, what had just happened?

Such pleasure from such indecency made him hot, confused and red like wine. Your breaths were heavy and agitated, stabilizing slowly and silently on the soft bed as you sighed satisfied with what had just happened. "So that's how it feel? Now I understand why some people indulge in promiscuity," you commented in a good mood, feeling your body return to normal. "We will do this more often, yes, husband?"

Who was he to deny your request? (Especially on the content of the request).

"Of course, my lady." Yes, your husband was perfect.

═════════════════════

taglist

general: @valeskafics @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

jace velaryon: @howyouloveyourdragon

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a vent fic wip that I may or may not finish so I just need to tell someone that I am...feeling so many things all the time about the consequences of the 16th birthday but...

primarily, right now, at this moment. without Robin/Bruce, Tim thought he would lose Dick and everyone else he knew through Robin. and then a little bit later when he quit for Jack, he got radio silence for Months until he became a potential victim, and even then it was just Cass stopping in to give the message and be like "I'll watch you to keep you safe 👁️👁️ ok bye" and he had actual Proof that without Robin, he would lose everyone.

and then. Dick "you're my equal (even tho I'm drastically changing your life without your knowledge or permission), you're my closest ally (even tho you don't even have a name to go out in the field to assist me as backup), I need you (even tho, as mentioned, I made a huge decision without your input because I didn't need it because I know best actually)" Grayson.

skipping over the fact that Dick didn't even have the time to say "you're fired" or anything resembling that, when Tim lost "Robin" to Damian, he felt like he lost everything else too. it didn't matter what Dick said about "equals" or "allies" or "needing". he already had Concrete Proof that it was all false. cheap words that are easily disproven do nothing in this situation, Dichard!

(disclaimer: I love and respect Dick Grayson, I just also think Dick Stopped Existing as soon as he made Damian his Robin for the most pathetic stupid illogical risky-ass excuse he could ever give for making anyone Robin (or a vigilante in general). "because he'll kill someone again". who the fuck says that?? who thinks "oh no oh god oh fuck this kid is gonna go off the rails he's gonna kill someone, I need to Put Him In A Place Of Power Over Oblivious Innocent Untrained People Who Are Expecting A Kind And Empathetic Hero To Save Them" hUH???? ok sorry, I just wanted to rant about what Tim "losing Robin" meant)

I agree with ya. Dick Grayson is fantastic, but it seems weird that he nuked his entire relationship with Tim (a very strong one that other fans have referred to them as "The Brothers") for the new kid.

Yes, Damian is a ten year old traumatized kid who just lost the dad he didn't really have the chance to get to know. Yes, Damian needed guidance, boundaries, and compassion.

But DC spent so much time and effort building up Tim and Dick's rapport only to obliterate it once the "blood son" came in (I also love Damian. This is not hate on the kid. This is confused commentary on DC's choices). It's just a strange idea, but that's also why it hurts so much when Dick does that to Tim.

Then you tie in Tim losing Robin by Dick to Tim's experiences before? Fuck. You are so right for that.

As far as the RR run, Dick could've handled Tim believing Bruce a bit better. I don't necessarily blame him for that one. I get why he wasn't supportive in the way Tim wanted, even though I would've chosen differently for my siblings.

Dick taking Robin, though? That was fucked up. I, honest to the gods, do not see how that was a justified course of action. I can understand his perspective, but it's still not okay. At all.

There's your very adequate analysis:

Robin, for Tim, is his tie to his loved ones. He has proof (twice) that without it, he does not have access to the people he cares about and his support system.

Dick said a lot of pretty words about "equals," but his actions were precisely contradictory to his "intentions."

Tim has had Robin taken from him before or had to give it up. He chose to go back despite this. He obviously feels strongly about being Robin

Damian has not proven, at this point, to be trustworthy as a vigilante (someone in power without oversight). He has instead shown use of excessive force

This isn't even going into the way he found out. That's just an extra layer.

The way Tim has repeated lost and regained Robin (even after RR) as well as his title as Red ROBIN are, to me, a sign that he's still trying to hold on. It's my belief that he would have moved onto a new title, like his predecessors, if it hadn't constantly been an unsure role.

His start was rocky as hell due to Bruce not initially wanting it. Tim had to prove himself and put himself into the costume.

He "quit" twice before it was taken from him in a traumatic way (nothing like being instilled with the fear that the position you've held for four years can suddenly be yanked out from under you without warning)

Damian and Jason both vehemently protested to him being Robin

It would make sense if all of these factors combined to Tim's unwillingness or inability to just let Robin go, especially when we factor in his reason to be Robin. Since Bruce never really gets "better" and continually falls back into bad habits, Tim needs to maintain his task of pulling Bruce back from the edge. We could also throw Jean Paul into this to further how Tim is forced to play as the barrier between a grown adult and their desire to harm others in the name of good.

So, Tim's time as Robin is marked by consistent instability while contrasted with his inherent position as Bruce's leash and the batfam fixer. While the other Robins did have times of doubt, the predecessors of Tim did not have the pervasive role insecurity with regards to Robin.

They had their big moment at the end and some smaller moments in-between, but not quite on the continous scale of Tim. Tim had three big moments and was still sucked back into Robin when Damian quit.

To be Robin is to earn Bruce's love and the ability to be part of the Wayne family. To lose Robin is the risk of losing that (at least to the perspectives of the Robins if not 100% the reality).

I'm not sure I'm articulating this accurately. Regardless, no wonder Tim clutches the title of Robin with bleeding hands no matter how much it cuts him and costs him.

[badaziraphaletakes]

Making jokes and laughing about a frightening experience does NOT mean someone does not appreciate the gravity of a situation. Quite the contrary, in fact - it is a very, very common way of processing trauma.

In fact, I can't offhand think of any traumatized people I know who haven't make a joke about their traumatic experience/s. It's a deeply normal, human thing to do.

(And please don't try to tell me Aziraphale seeing Crowley be kidnapped and then being hit over the head with a crowbar (?), violently kidnapped himself, and dragged to hell, and then seeing the awful people and place Crowley had been stuck with for the past 100k+ years, witnessing the usher being murdered in cold blood before his eyes, and wondering if the same thing might happen to him, and/or if he hell was going to discover his and Crowley's secret, not to mention seeing for probably the first time what exactly the thermos of holy water would have done to Crowley if he'd used it, wasn't traumatic. First of all, that just is. Second of all, look at his irises. He was probably having a bit of fun - not surprising considering how relieved he was that the holy water didn't work on him and hell appeared not to have caught onto the deception; of course you'd be a bit giddy - but he was also terrified and scarred and angry and disgusted and I don't even know what else.)

There's a reason the rates of depression found among comedians are off-the-charts. And it's not because humor causes depression (we know it actually alleviates it). It's because traumatized people and people with mental illness (I mean, the Venn diagram between those groups is basically a circle, but y'know) gravitate to humor. It is one of the most powerful weapons we have to ward off despair. Humor can save us when nothing else can.

It can also stop you from wanting to punch someone when you're really, really angry. I propose that we can see smoldering contempt and fury and outrage and disgust on Aziraphale's face at the end of the scene, hidden just under that cheeky grin. It's some masterful acting work by Tennant, so many emotions going on at the same time.

Also - may I point out that Crowley loved Aziraphale's jokes about the whole thing. Aziraphale knows how to cheer Crowley up. A big part of the reason he was so sarcastic in hell was for Crowley, to score some points against the people who have been oppressing him for millennia without him ever being able to answer back. (And also he was acting that way because he figured it was how Crowley would act and he had to be convincing. If he'd gone in there and hadn't been 100% confidence and swagger, hell would have noticed something was off. They're paranoid, and Beelzebub, at least, is smart. No flies on that one. Heh, heh. Did Aziraphale overplay it a bit? Maybe. But the deception worked, so clearly his approach was correct overall.)

And finally: Don't tell me Crowley wasn't having a little fun with all this, too. His laugh on the bench was sincere:

He could arguably also be accused of overplaying it a bit with the neck cracking (which I don't blame him for; I would have done the same - but I don't see anyone getting mad at him for having a little fun the way they did with Azi):

And he LOVED getting to breathe fire at Gabriel & Co.

Which is exactly as it should be. :)

[clydesavage-thefox147]

I don't think enough fanders are aware of this little piece of evidence, so I'm going to post about it. (Also pardon my nearly 2 months long hiatus, been mentally shitty)

Ever wondered why Janus has that pink blemish around his eye?

So, according to Joan in a past Livestream in late 2019, they confirmed that the pink was actually a scar. Yep. A scar. It makes sense since snakes and no other reptiles have that marking naturally. Apparently, it was added to make it more menacing and scary which honestly it did work at the time of his introduction, if you remember how scared people were of him then.

Initially, they weren't going to explain why he has the scar, since it would have been "too intense" to do so. To be fair, at the time it would have been, but now, do we really care how intense it could've happened? Also, I feel it's a bit messed up to make people with scars out to be intimidating, especially since that scar must've been a traumatic experience. I do think that they should go back on their statement and confirm that scar canonically in an understandable, less insulting way.

Now like I said in a previous post, I know Joan isn't much apart of the team anymore however, some of Joan's influence has still carried on in recent canon. Not to mention that Joan literally created Janus as a character. Another thing Joan did mention in their statement was that the scar..has a connection to the next side which is Orange. Which got me thinking-

Does that mean that Orange will be scarred too? Or..did Orange do it to him? Honestly, it does make sense. If you look at the pink hue enough, it does resemble that of a burn scar. Orange has been associated with that of fire.🔥

A character Janus has been connected to is Harvey Dent or Two Face due to Virgil's retort in Embarrassing Phases. According to the comics, Two Face is an ex lawyer who uses his studies in criminology and Law to commit his villainous crimes. He was chemically burned at a court trial, however some alternate versions suggest a more gruesome torture. And, it also happens to be on the same side of his body as Janus' scales and scar. This reference was made the episode right before SvS, where Janus was a lawyer. Definitely foreshadowing.

Another connection is to that of Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender. We know Thomas loves this series and the character is notable here for having a very similar burn scar on the same eye. Coincidence? I think not!

Now, if it is answered, was it truly Orange who did it? What if it was Remus? And was it on purpose or accident? With Remus, it's more likely to be an accident but Orange we have yet to know but it's more likely purposeful. Unless, Virgil caused it and that could be something he's guilty of but who knows. I just feel bad for Janus in the sense that his snake vision must already suck and then he was nearly blinded a second time? Damn man.

But yeah..that pink is a scar..from some injury..from someone...for some reason or motive. What do you think about this?

[imitationgame77]

Progression of intimacy in Artificial Condition

Cycle 1

MB: After the events of All System Red, spent 7 cycles on a bot piloted transport, then embarks an unmanned ship, thinking it only has a low-level bot pilot.

ART: Readily responds to MB's ping, and accept media in exchange for passage to RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station, letting MB to believe that it is just a bot pilot. It admits later that it was curious about a rogue SecUnit trying to travel on its own.

ART: Waits until MB settles down and start watching media before suddenly addressing it via its feed, and reveals its true self by dropping the wall for 0.0001 of a second.

MB: Instantly recognizes its power and implicit threat and withdraws. When ART, not understanding MB's strong reaction, tells it not to sulk, it fires back and sends a file showing its experience of torture as a SecUnit.

ART: Stays silent for 5 minutes, and then apologizes for having frightened it. [For omniscient machine intelligence like ART, we now realize that is a VERY long time. It was probably shocked by the cruelty experienced by a SecUnit, and digging up extensive information on SecUnits and how they are treated in Corporation Rim. Also analyzing why MB was reacting the way it was.] Then withdraws behind its wall, giving MB space.

MB: Watches 3 episodes of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, while trying to calm itself. Then starts to see the event from the transport's point of view. [This demonstrates its ability to understand the world from other person's point of view, known in psychology as Theory of Mind, lack of which is considered to be indicator of autism spectrum.]

Art: After further 6 episodes, quietly re-enters MB's feed, and lurks there while MB watches 7 more episodes. [No idea how long an episode is, but even if it is about 30 minutes, ART was patiently watching MB watch its favourite show at least for 3-4 hours without interruption!] Then politely pings MB to request to watch the new serial World Hoppers. When refused, repeats the request after 2 minutes. And explains that it cannot usually understand the context of media, and watching through MB's filter gives it the context and understanding.

MB and ART start watching World Hoppers together

Cycle 2~

MB: While watching World Hoppers (3 times) and other media (hundreds of hours), comes to see how ART is attached to its humans, and begins to feel "charitable" towads it, letting it to watch a potentially traumatizing episode 1 or 2 minutes at a time. Also comes to understand it well enough to create a content filter.

[There is no mention of specific time span, but it must have taken at least a few cycles to view all that media, even without recharge cycle]

ART: After 4 episodes of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, by which point ART had noticed that it was MB's favourite show, it asks if the serial has a SecUnit character. Subsequent conversation (reluctantly, on MB's side) reveals that MB does not like SecUnits in the way they are used, and even portrayed in media, because it is unrealistic, but not in a good way.

ART proceeds to ask why MB is there, surprising it because MB had assumed that the transport had no interest in it. MB reveals its brief history with PreservationAux but reluctant to talk any further. ART confesses that it is not supposed to pick up unauthorized passenger, saying that they both have a secret. MB goes as far as to admit it is going to RaviHyral Mining Facility for research, but would not say any more. And when pressed, proceeds to start a shut-down cycle.

[When MB wakes up 4 hours later, ART immediately resumes argument, calling the shut-down a childish behaviour. With ART's processing capacity, managing travel through a wormhole would not take up much. Probably lots of speculative thoughts were going through its mind while also probably looking up on everything about the Mining Facility and SecUnits, as well as past newsfeeds on Mensah's team.]

ART does not drop the subject. It presses MB saying that it should share its plans as they are now friends. MB tries to convince the transport and itself that constructs and bots can never be friends as they may have to act against each other if their humans command them. ART simply points out that there are no humans now. Eventually, MB relents and tells ART what happened at RaviHyral Mining Facility before the partial memory purge around the time of Governor Module hack. Discussion with ART gives MB new perspectives. [It is around this point that MB decides to call the transport ART, short for Asshole Research Transport. ART does not show any negative response regarding MB's grim past]

ART points out the risk of being spotted as a rogue SecUnit at RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station, much to MB's dismay. [MB talks of "ART was doing that thing again where it asked me questions it knew the answer to so it could trap me into admitting stuff I didn't want to admit. I decided to skip to the end." This passage indicates that perhaps more conversations had taken place prior to this, and like a good university instructore, ART was manipulating guiding MB's thought processes, and MB had noticed it.]

ART suggests configuration change which horrifies MB. ART points out that its survival as a rogue SecUnit is at stake, and makes it realize that if it wants to survive and meet the PreservationAux people again, it needs to make sure it does not get caught as a rogue Unit. MB thinks it over 2 cycles, during which time ART says nothing more about it, watching media together. During the same period, MB tries to see if it can look less like a SecUnit by creating codes to make itself behave like a human. MB asks ART to record its movement, but realizes that it still looked like a SecUnit, as it meets the unit standard size which can be spotted by a scan.

[ART loves being right, but it shows genuine desire to help it survive, and tries to get MB to realize the importance itself. Probably having learned MB's character and its past (at least in part), once having given suggestions, it simply waits (and trusts) until MB comes to make the choice itself.]

Unspecified Cycle

MB and ART argued a lot over what should be done to change MB's configuration from the unit standard. ART even suggests giving it sex related organ which MB vehemently rejects.

ART performs configuration change on MB.

While MB is still incapacitated ART does search on RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station, narrowing down the likely place of incident to Ganaka Pit.

There is no mention of time frame from the configuration change to the arrival at the destination. However, based on the facts that they seemed to know about each other a lot by Network Effect, they must have spent some quality time together talking, as well as watching media. Once they have reached RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station, they stayed together by the Comm feed, but most of their attention was on protection of the three young humans.

Cycle 21-23?

They reach RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station. ART suggests that MB takes on a temporary job as a security consultant (augumented human) in order to gain legitimate way to access installation site and helps it with preparation. MB protects its first voluntarily taken clients and does a lot more than what is required as a security consultant. It also manages to find out what really happened at Ganaka Pit where the incident happened before its memory purge. Throughout, ART stays with MB, keeping company, offering tactical and morale support, except when it was in Ganaka Pit and out of comm range. When they finally part company, ART tells it to keep its Comm in case they may come within the range again, to which MB could only send an acknowledgement, as it feared it would get too emotional if tried to speak.

Rogue Protocol; Exit Strategy; Fugitive Telemetry

In all the books whose timeline come between Artificial Condition and Network Effect, MB mentions ART several times, indicating that it was thinking of its friend frequently and misses it.

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

Not explicitly written interactions that solidified the basis for their friendship "mutual administrative assistance" probably happened from around the time of the configuration change and arrival at the station. By the time MB starts its security consultant job, they seem significantly more comfortable with each other than before. Some indications are:

MB admits that the only important thing while at RaviHyral Mining Facility Q Station was ART's comm interface.

MB could tell ART was withholding something by its a few seconds of pause and pressed it, and ART admits it has debris deflection systsm.

MB allows ART full access to its brain in order to let it use it as a bridge to reach the shuttle's control. Twice. MB has guarded its mind tightly ever since it hacked the governor module. It disliked Gurathin because he accessed it while MB was shut down, which he found as violation of privacy. Even with different circumstances, with more urgency, MB does not hesitate much nore does it seem to mind that it had to allow ART full access.

When MB was distressed at Tapan's questions about its "augumentation" after investigation into Ganaka Pit incident, ART plays soundtracks of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon for MB, which calms it down. It knows that the serial is a kind of security blanket to MB.

Before meeting ART's crew in Network Effect, MB had already known that Iris was ART's favourite human.

ART was telling its crew about MB, without going into details about their adventure on RaviHyral, but in such a way that its favourite human had thought of MB as "Peri's SecUnit".

ART entrusted its fate to MB when its existence was at stake. Not to its colleagues from university. Nobody else could have rescued it except MB.

The first thing it said to MB when it came back online after deletion was, "I'm not going to hurt your humans, you little idiot", which sounds extremely affectionate.

Their mutual feelings (despite MB being very angry at the time) were apparent enough that Rhatti, only shortly after hearing them interact briefly, called it "a relationship" which horrifies MB.

Overall, they exhibit deep level of mutual affection from the moment they are reunited in Network Effect, which suggests their intimacy had progressed rapidly even before arriving at RaviHyral. Also, probably "absence makes the heart grow fonder" was also the case. ART must have been keeping track of MB's doings as much as it could. Otherwise it could not have known that it was then working with Arada at the time of kidnapping!

[lordofdestructionm]

Having a nice day?

I hope so

Just thought I would remind you that Mordecai doesn't currently know what a TERRIBLE state Viktor is in

The only thing he knows about it is what Mitzi reveals at the lunch meeting.

That Marigold sending the pig farmers and Mordecai robbing the Lackadaisy armoury "almost got Viktor killed"

This has a visible effect on him. Almost breaking his cover right in front of Asa and ruining his one man investigation into Atlas's death before he restores his barriers with the help of his menu.

Even when the attention is off him he keep his eyes firmly down towards the table

By the time Mitzi and he have finished their conversation in the car, her second attempt to use Viktor to get under his skin is less effective. Now he refuses to engage and responds with a warning to her about crossing Marigolds path.

Mordecai knows how desperate Mitzi is. He knows that she is not above a little emotional manipulation if it suits her.

"Almost got him killed" could mean any number of things after all. He could have just been in the room when the attack happened. Mitzi never mentioned any specific injuries. For all he knows Viktor was near the gunfire but no worse for wear afterward

On top of that, as far as Mordecai is concerned, Mitzi may very well be exaggerating the situation to jab at his conscience. Considering his poor opinion of her due to their previous rivalry for Atlas's favour, and resenting her current decision to keep Viktor in the firing line for her own ends, he would consider that more than likely.

Of course we know that Viktor was VERY badly wounded in the chest (in part due to Rocky's terrible timing), and perhaps worse still this has further damaged his mental and emotional health.

Already traumatized by his war experience, and his wife walking out on him with his daughter, Mordecai's own betrayal and shooting of his one good knee had already gotten him relegated behind the bar, now he can't even do that for the foreseeable future.

For a man who prefers to be busy and feel like he has a purpose, being in a situation where he feels broken and useless is guaranteed to cause despair.

Considering that Mordecai's carefully constructed cover almost broke at the mention of the possibility of Viktor getting hurt, finding out or seeing just how broken his old partner is would likely be a very nasty shock

With Mordecai himself starting to tear at the seams, as the strain and emotional turmoil of getting to the bottom of his surrogate fathers death catches up to him, it may well be the straw that breaks that carefully constructed facade.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards: Part 4

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.0K

Author's Note: This is the second part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

There was an odd pain radiating from your temple, stretching around your forehead to the back of your scalp, pulsating. What happened? you wondered. As you reached up to press your palm into the epicenter of the pain, you felt a distinct sharp pain radiating up your side from your ribs, spreading down through your back. It was enough pain to justify saying your entire torso felt like it was on fire. A sharp hiss escaped from between your teeth as you finally managed to bring your palm to your temple, the ache still pounding. You ran one hand up your side to find it bandaged, a wooden splint strapped to your side to keep you from bending. Something very bad had happened. You tried to recall events leading up to now, but the memories were foggy. Something about rain and darkness? Your body remembered biting cold, but other than that, you struggled to pull anything from your subconscious. Right now, you were just exhausted, both in mind and body.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with an odd sight. A wooden ceiling, vaulted high above you. You squinted, unsure if the pain in your head was distorting your vision. The roof of your cabin was much lower and certainly didn’t have the ornate carvings lining the beams. You managed to turn your head slightly, your neck sending a shooting pain through your spine as you clenched your teeth. Unless you were dreaming, this wasn’t your cabin.

To your right, there was a small wooden side table with four ornately carved drawers. Atop it was a washbasin with a dirty red rag draped over the side, and a single candle burned down almost to its base, the wick and flame high and flickering. Across the room was a large window with brown curtains hanging from the beam above it. On the window sill stood a series of bottles and candles—perfume bottles, perhaps. Below that was a chest carved with various markings, some of which you could make out as stars. Fighting against the pain, you craned your neck to look at the fireplace, where wood cracked and split as smoke curled up the chimney. Resting next to the mantle was a series of weapons: swords, knives, an ax, all left haphazardly as if someone had thrown them down some time ago and left them to collect dust.

Your head sent another pang of pain through it as you squeezed your eyes shut, your head falling back to hit the pillow again, which was soft, warm, and inviting. You let your hands fall back to your sides, instinctively curling into the warmth of the soft fur at the side of the bed. You let your fingers run idly through it as you tried and failed once again to orient yourself. Thinking too hard sent the pain burning through your skull again, and every breath felt as if someone were dragging a knife down the length of your side.

You must have fallen asleep, because when you next opened your eyes, the light in the room had shifted to the oranges and yellows of evening. Struggling once more to turn your head and look around the room, you noticed the washbasin had been removed and the candle replaced with a taller, newer version. Someone had come in while you were asleep. When you reached down your sides, you noticed the wooden splint had been removed and the dressings replaced with smoother, cotton bandages. Not only had someone been in the room with you, but they had also nursed you.

You tried to sit up. Another blast of pain, and a small inadvertent squeak from your mouth, and your head fell back to the mattress. When you turned your head, you recognized the male standing in the doorway, but couldn't quite place him. Your eyes squinted at him, mouth slightly open.

“You’re awake,” he finally spoke, making his way across the room and setting a basin of clean water on the side table before wringing out the rag within it. He reached across to run it across your temple, and you jerked to the side, causing another roar of pain as you squeezed your eyes shut and groaned.

“You can’t move like that,” he warned, pulling his hand back, the water dripping onto the floor. “You haven’t fully healed, and every time you move, that rib recracks.”

A broken rib. So that was the cause of the pain.

You groaned slightly as he placed the rag back in the basin and took a step back. You gave him a long look up and down. Yes, he certainly seemed familiar. His tanned skin, covered in swirling black tattoos running down his arms and up his neck, barely visible above the collar of his black shirt. His face was hardened yet kind, with hazel eyes meeting yours as you continued to try to decode this familiar stranger. His hair, soft black waves, swooped down over his forehead, and the most familiar part of him were the large bat-like wings protruding over his shoulders, the talons on the top glinting in the light of the fire, now blazing at the foot of the bed.

“Do you not recognize me?” he asked after you seemed satisfied with your visual investigation.

You rested your head back down on the pillow, your neck nearly giving out from the strain of holding it up, which felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. You choked back a slight gasp as your neck spasmed. “No,” you finally got out. “Should I?”

The male’s brows furrowed, and a hint of concern flashed across his face as he clasped his hands behind his back. “We met a few nights ago, both at the Starlit Stag Inn. You were in the room adjacent to mine.”

You pulled through the memories, recalling your initial interaction, walking in to find him lounging on the chair. Memories seemed to be coming back, slowly.

“You were in my room,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

The male let out a light chuckle as he pulled a wooden stool from the wall, planting his large frame onto it. His forearms rested on his thighs as he leaned forward, clasping his hands. “I would argue you were in my room, given I was there first.”

You opened one eye, the other still clenched shut, to look at him. His face was soft, inviting, handsome for sure, but what struck you most was the seeming care he took in looking at your face, which you were sure was battered and bruised based on how it felt.

“Well,” you replied, “I guess I’m sorry about taking over your space.”

He smiled again, his scarred thumb stroking the top of his other hand as he looked down at it. “I was more than happy to share.”

There was a pause as he looked back up at you, now staring toward the ceiling, ragged breaths escaping from you as you tried to peer through memories, searching for what had happened over the last few days.

“What do you remember?” he finally asked.

You blinked a few times. Rain, cold, pain, male voices echoing, saying such foul things, and before that, purple flowers, your mother. “It’s fuzzy,” you finally said, tears building at the corner of your eyes, though you weren’t sure why.

“Seemed like you knocked your head pretty hard,” the male said, gesturing to your temple. “Though I can’t say what happened to the rest of you, you were pretty battered when I found you”

“Found me?” you asked, a tear slipping down your cheek, though it was on the other side, and the male couldn’t see it as you shoved the sadness deep down.

The male nodded. “You were lying on the river bank, soaking wet and freezing. I assume you’d somehow fallen into the river and hit your head. You don’t remember any of that?”

That would explain the blasts of pain.

“What river?”

The male’s eyes furrowed again, apparently you knew less than he thought. “The Frostvale.”

“Frostvale, as in the Illyrian Frostvale?” you clarified.

The male chuckled again. “I don’t think there are many others named that.”

Frostvale was where your mate had taken you one summer, to spend the weekend swimming in the cold water rushing in from the eastern sea. Your mate. Oh gods.

You suddenly tried to shoot upwards, but the pain pushed you back down.

“Whoa, whoa,” the male warned, rising from his seat and rushing over to you.

You screamed as the pain radiated up your side and seemed to erupt from your mouth.

“You need to be careful. Your ribs are shattered,” he warned, pulling back the blankets slightly to check your bandages. It was then that you realized you didn’t have a top on and that the bandages around your midsection barely covered your breasts. You gasped quickly as the male went to adjust the bandage, but you whipped out an arm to push him back, slamming into his chest, pulling the fur blankets up.

“No!” you screamed at him.

He threw his hands up in defense. “Alright, alright” he conceded. “That was fair. But you need to not move so much. You already punctured your lungs twice just while you were sleeping.”

That explained the wheezing, hollow, raspy sound emanating from your chest.

“Half of this week has just been trying to keep you still,” he said.

“A week?” you suddenly realized, your eyes widening.

The male nodded, lowering his hands and returning to his stool. “Yeah, you’ve been out for about four days.”

You gulped down the anxiety growing in your stomach. You’d lost four days, and who knows how many more from the injury. You suddenly ran through how far you would have made it from your cabin, realizing your original plan to escape had altered based off of this slight mishap.

You learned, after more questions, that you’d been away from the cabin for the last seven days. A full week without being found or going back—the longest time you had made it, although the injury certainly aided in that. But what you found strange was that since you had woken up, and the entire time you had been unconscious, the slimy voice of your mate hadn’t wormed its way into your mind. You shuddered at the thought of being unable to get away from your mate's coercion, insults, rages, and any other commentary he might throw down the bond. You silently thanked the Mother for whatever grace had been gifted to you.

The male looked toward the washbasin and then back to you. You followed his eyes. “I need to clean the gash on your head,” he said.

“I can do it,” you retorted.

The male frowned. “You can’t sit up. If you lift your arm above your head, your lung is going to pop, and I’m not even sure you have enough strength to hold yourself up for more than a second.”

You weighed your options, your eyes darting between the washbasin and his face. He sensed your hesitancy and finally responded, “I promise I won’t do anything. I just want to wash your wound.”

He held his hands up again as if in a peace offering. You gulped, still not fully sure why you felt so against this male touching you. Something in you felt incredibly hesitant about those wings, but you couldn’t quite place why.

The male sucked his lips between his teeth and peered around the room, his eyes landing on the fire mantle. He stood slowly as you watched him. You tried to cover yourself more, but pulling the blanket up caused a small fire to radiate through your back. The male seemed attuned to your nerves and said, “I’m going to get up and grab something from the mantle, and then I’m going to come back here and sit down.”

You nodded approval, and he gave a small nod back before he stood, continuing to face you, hands drawn up before himself while he walked slowly to the mantle. Your breathing paused as you waited. He reached up and grabbed a single hunting knife from the top. You suddenly panicked, trying to sit up, in fear of what you didn’t know. He wasn’t coming at you, wasn’t menacingly brandishing the knife, and yet you felt an inherent need to flee. When he saw your reaction, he quickly placed the knife on the floor, standing again, hands drawn up to his shoulders, palms facing you.

“It’s okay,” he reassured as you grunted at the pain. “I’m sorry, I should have told you what I was getting.” He pointed a finger down at the floor. “I was going to let you hold this while I cleaned the wound. You can hold it to my stomach, and if I go too far or you feel unsafe, you can defend yourself.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused at his remark. He was willingly giving you a weapon and asking you to stab him with it if you felt uncomfortable. “What?” you asked.

He looked at you, pausing, eyes meeting yours. “I just thought you might feel safer if you had some control.”

You tried to wipe the confusion from your face. He wanted you to stab him. No, he wanted you to have a way to stop him from hurting you. Even if he didn’t plan on hurting you, he wanted you to be able to stop it. You didn’t say anything, just continued to look at him.

“Are you okay with that?” he asked. When you didn’t respond, he added, “Look, I don’t know why you aren’t healing faster, but I’m worried that letting that fester is just going to make it harder and harder or deadly.” A pause. “Plus, I’ve been working hard at cleaning it for the last few days, so having you ruin my work doesn’t seem fair.” He gave you a small smile.

You nodded, and he smiled again, saying, “Alright, thank you. Now, I’m going to lean down and get the knife. I’m going to put it next to you on the bed and then step back until you take it, okay?”

You let out a sound of agreement, and he slowly crouched, one hand descending to grab the blade, the other still held in the air. He stood back up and slowly walked to the side of the bed, putting the knife next to your hand and taking a step back, both hands returning to the air. You quickly gripped the knife, and through the pain, held it up, your upper arm still propped up by the bed.

“Doing okay?” he asked. You nodded.

“Okay,” he pointed to the washbasin, “Now I’m going to grab that rag and dampen it. Then I’m going to run it over your forehead to clean it. It might take me a few rounds before it’s clean, and I am going to want to stop to look at the wound, but I promise I won’t let my hands touch you. Is that okay?”

You nodded your agreement. He nodded back. “I’m going to have to lean over you a bit, so you just keep the knife steady. You can rest it against my stomach.” You nodded again. He paused momentarily, “And please don’t accidentally stab me, if you’re going to do it, make it count.”

He slowly walked forward, grabbing the rag and dipping it into the water before wringing it out. He then brought it to your forehead, wiping it gingerly at first, his eyes focused on the wound. You held the knife to his stomach, pressing the tip gently into his shirt, feeling the hardened muscles underneath.

You gulped a few times, your sight locked onto his face and hands as he tended to you. He spoke the entire time, telling you what he was doing, alerting you when he was going to move, and warning you if things would hurt. At some point, you let the knife fall from his stomach, but you couldn’t decide if it was comfort or fatigue. When he was finished, he tossed the rag into the basin, scrubbing his hands clean and then wiping them on his pants.

“I probably should have opened with my name,” he chuckled to himself. “It just seemed like you were more preoccupied than niceties would have allowed. I’m Azriel.”

You looked at him, your fingers tracing the knife handle. “I’m Y/N,” you responded.

“That’s a pretty name,” he replied, turning back to you.

You smiled lightly, not looking towards him, just tracing the carved woodland animals on the handle of the knife.

“Look, I—” he started, then stopped, pondering his response. “I don’t want to intrude, and I know you’ve got some amnesia from hitting your head, but I just—” He paused again. “That first night, in the tavern, I came into your room and woke you up because you were screaming and—” He stopped.

You gulped, your eyes filling with tears, and you sniffled them away. You didn’t know why this kept happening. Why did you keep allowing yourself to the brink of tears in front of this stranger? He watched as your eyes reddened and lined with silver. “We can talk about it later,” he said, then smiled, picking up the basin and propping it on his hip. He looked toward your torso. “Would you feel more comfortable if a female looked at your ribs?” he asked.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat that built before you could cry and nodded your head. Azriel smiled slightly, aware of the oncoming storm, and said, “I’ll send a female up here tomorrow morning.” He turned, walking toward the door, his large wings narrowly fitting through the entrance. Before reaching behind him to pull the door shut, he paused and asked, “Do you like berries?”

You nodded again, unable to speak for fear you might sob. He threw you another smile before ducking his head and leaving the room. Then he shut the door, leaving you alone as your tears began to fall and you coughed out long sobs that sent your body radiating with pain. You were stuck here, in a room, unable to move, with a male you didn’t know. You gripped the knife in your fist before pushing it under the fur blanket as your exhaustion hit you again, and your weary body succumbed to sleep.

Authors Note: Thank you for everyone who has been keeping up with the story and interaction and a special thanks to those who asked to join the tag list, it means to much to know there are people out here genuinely enjoying my works!

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll

@fightmedraco

@marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx

@romantasyreader28 @minnieoo

@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

[https-furina]

heres my apology for the trauma:

(i forgot who i asked for in the previoys ask) kazuha, xiao, heizou, aether, albedo and wanderer with fluff ideas

(im giving you the power to make the scenario wtv you want bc i traumatized u the most lmao)

✎ our time together. ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader content: pure fluff, so much comfort after that angst you could suffocate, sickeningly sweet stuff. mentions of injuries in xiao’s part.

detective's notes. this is aly's attempt at therapy following that angst req - i did everyone who was in the original request that you can find here. i apologise in advance for xiao and kaeya, i think they’re ooc. not proofread.

albedo often has you admiring the sights of dragonspine with him whenever you take the time to visit him at the summit. on bright, sunny days, depending on the direction you face, you can gaze upon mondstadt, liyue or the ocean. it amazed you, to be surrounded by so many fantastic sights. and not only around dragonspine but the mountain itself hosts the most beautiful scenery. scenes of white snow, pure and blanketing the ground around your boyfriend's camp - it's innocent, wholesome. the snowflakes dance together with each other.

albedo loves to watch you admiring what is so common for him, snow drifting down almost every other day.

"love, it's snow," albedo chimes from where he's jotting down notes from a research experiment he'd conducted earlier in the day. you're sat by the campfire, eyes glazed over as you watch the snowflakes, "the city really doesn't get snow this much?" "the city doesn't get snow, bedo," you comment back, quick on your words and clouds of hot breath coming from your lips as you spoke, "the sentence should have ended there." your wit makes him chuckle under his breath, his gaze falling back to the cursive scribble in his notebook. every time you visited him it was almost like he got to witness your child-like state over and over again, never-ending and yet he cherished every moment of it. he cherished the way that a smile would slowly break out on your face no matter what you was doing when that very first snowflake lands on your sleeve. unfortunately, albedo often keeps you in the safety that is his camp, situated in an alcove not far from the summit of the mountain. it's sheltered and it encompasses the warmth from his fire perfectly. he's never had any qualms with it but he can see how your fingers itch, longing to touch at the cold that settles on the ground only to melt moments later when the sun glimpses from behind grey clouds. he basks in your innocent behaviour and how it glows in the campfire's orange light. with a gentle noise, the blond finds himself raising from his chair, joints stiff - it's only now he realises how long he'd been seated, writing about his experiments while you sat and watched the snow. "you want to go out in it, right?" he asks quietly as he wanders to your side, a cotton scarf in his hands as he wraps it around your neck, "we can't have you getting sick, i can only cook so much goulash." his voice is light, teasing but you're focused on his insinuations that you can in fact go out into the snow that you've been meticulously watching for hours now. he watches the realisation wash over your face, your eyes glittering as you stare at him - it's almost as if you're asking for permission. albedo chuckles, a cloud of breath falling from his lips as he does so before he nods. you've left the warmth of the camp before albedo can even process you getting up from your spot, spinning in circles as you let the snowflakes cover the fabric of your clothing. a faint smile appears on albedo's face, watching your excitement as you giggle in the snow made him fall in love with you even more than before.

aether absolutely loves travelling with you at his side. you're the light of his life, always finding the positives in the stickiest of situations where even he debates whether it's a dead end. this applies to his search for his twin sister, you're convinced he'll find her and you are quick to reassure him that you'll be there every step of the way! but adventuring is tiring and your feet are sore. aether treats you like a princess despite getting pushed around by civilians and archons alike wherever he goes.

it comes as no surprise when he is the one who proposes a campfire for the night, cooped up together on a woven blanket you insisted on bringing with you.

"aether," you mumble your boyfriend's name softly as you curl into his side, attempting to count the stars - it's futile but you tried anyways, "what do you think most of these people would do if they knew their archons were among them?" "mondstadt would think it's a harsh prank," he comments from where he's cooking food. there's a strong aroma of mint, chicken, radish with perhaps hints of calla lilies and fish, "imagine diluc's face if he knew it was venti." a laugh comes from you, looking over at the blond with a hint of admiration. he's deep in concentration with his cooking despite them being dishes he's made hundreds of times before - he's sure got the proficiency down at least. he glances at you and his sharp eyes soften. he loves your laugh, he finds it more musical than anything venti could play on the holy lyre or even anything that yun jin performs. to aether, your laugh is explosive and beautiful like yoimiya's fireworks and it's more illustrious than any aranara tale that sumeru could conjure up. you were his partner, a beacon of light and hope as you travel wherever he goes. sometimes he'll joke that you're his shadow, watching his back just as much as he has yours. a smile breaks out on his face suddenly. "what's that look for?" you pout, puffing your cheeks as aether shakes his head, turning back to the campfire. his calloused hands work meticulously on chicken and mushroom skewers and radish soups like their recipes are engraved into his memory. "am i not allowed to look at my girlfriend?" his question flushes your cheeks with warmth that crawls up your neck and makes butterflies crazy in your stomach. clearing your throat, you look away with a dramatic huff, no longer attempting to push aether for his prior facial expressions. aether makes a noise of amusement, holding out a skewer to you, "it's hot, don't burn your tongue." his words echo in your head, ones that would seem patronising to anyone else but to you, they meant the world. you knew that aether would fret over the smallest injuries - just like he did when you managed to get a papercut from a book you borrowed from xingqiu. he merely cared more than you could ever ask for in exchange for the positive aura you carry with you that keeps him sane.

heizou can disappear from days, perhaps even weeks at a time. he remains a hazard to anyone he comes across who aren't aware of his apparent disappearances when he gets a lead on a particularly pressing case. when he is around however, even if his head is buried in case files, he's by your side. he craves whatever touch he can get from you, always somehow finding a way to be touching you. it only gets worse after his peculiar disappearances.

it's no wonder that the next day after he suddenly turns up at your shared house again, a wide grin on his face that he's keeping his hand lingering on your skin.

"could it be premeditated? surely not," the detective mumbles, his face hidden in documents that you're sure his grip is crumpling, "but the change of clothes suggests otherwise - unless it's a case of panic..." "do you speak out loud at the station too?" you muse, one of your hands holding a novel from mondstadt whilst your other hand is playing with heizou's fingers, his hand on your thigh. heizou makes a soft noise, chuckling as he raises his head from the papers finally. "on the odd chance that i'm there? sometimes." he admits, grinning mischievously and you roll your eyes with a light scoff. his attitude to his work attendance was unbelievable sometimes, even more so than his ability to crack cases like they're precious geodes with goods inside of them. you click your tongue playfully, shaking your head as heizou raises the hand you're using to play with his idly, pressing his lips to your knuckles with a chuckle. you try to send him a pointed look, hoping to insinuate that his attitude wasn't acceptable but verdant eyes are looking at you with a teasing sparkle and you sigh, accepting that he was enjoying winding you up over the situation. "how old is that case anyways?" you ask curiously, tilting your head as you glance at your boyfriend. heizou lowers the documents, a drastic sigh escaping his lips. "only a few days but it happened within the tenryou commission," heizou explains, rubbing his temple with his spare hand, "madam kujou sara has the whole station working on it." you gently squeeze the hand heizou is holding, giving him a reassuring smile when he turns his gaze back to you. you knew the case would start eating him alive if he let it, to the point where he'd be mumbling theories even in his sleep. "don't overwork yourself, please." you sigh. it's soft and light, your hot breath fanning over heizou's skin when he moves his hand from yours to your cheek. where would he be without the rational mind of his own girlfriend to keep him in check?

kazuha loves being at sea with the crew of the alcor. captain beidou has been at his side numerous times and helped in his times of need but there is one more thing that kazuha loves more than the salty air of the ocean and that is you. he's known to skip the occasional adventure at sea to stay by your side a little longer, especially around both your birthday and his.

it turns out that when he does return from sea, all he ever wants is a homemade meal and the loving embrace of his partner.

"kazu-" you blink as you stare at the mound in the bedsheets, curled up nice and warm like a kitten - he hums, "was you sleeping?" the silky silver hair of your boyfriend peeks from the top of the sheets, his eyelashes half open as he lets out a small yawn, looking at where you stand at the bedroom door. he sends you a small smile, nodding. "just a nap, my love - what's wrong?" he rests his head back down on the pillows, arms moving to lay above the sheets so that you may see him better. the action makes you smile, leaning on the door frame as you admire him in such a relaxed moment, his voice mildly deep as he wakes up. "i was coming to ask if you wanted dinner," you admit sheepishly, eyes trailing over how his messy hair frames his face when he has it down, specific strands of red hanging above his eyes and catching in his long eyelashes, "are you hungry?" "maybe - can i ask for a hug before you go?" who are you to deny such a request from your boyfriend? you catch the way kazuha grins when you approach the bed, his arms tightly wrapping around your waist and pulling you down to him. you yelp, caught unaware as you fall on top of his body. there's however a few moments of silence as you sink into a calm state of mind, pressing the skin of your cheek to his bare chest when kazuha nuzzles his nose into your hair, exhaling softly. there's a solace that you only get when you're in his company and he can say likewise to you too, when he breathes in your scent and drinks it in like a wine. "i missed you," he comments quietly against your hair, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. a smile cracks onto your face, your eyelashes fluttering shut at his words. you had missed him too undoubtedly when he's been away for so long.

wanderer has had his hands full ever since lesser lord kusanali thrust him into studying at the akademiya - against his will, nonetheless and if someone cared enough to listen to his complaints, they'd hear his whines about the 'awful' work load they give students. it would take a few hours of listening to his sharp wit and grumbles to understand that he despises his academic studies this much because it limits his time with you - the girlfriend he says he "can't get rid of" because you "won't leave his side."

he has lesser lord kusanali promise that she won't rat him out whenever he turns up to the sanctuary of surasthana asking what girls like for gifts, giggles coming from the small archon.

"what the hell does this mean?" he mutters to himself, pads of his fingers pressed to his temple as his eyes scan over the text again. it's not going in, it simply just isn't. he's reread the paragraph ten times now and even though it's definitely in a language he understands and even more so a topic that he's already studied, it's not sticking the way academic materials are supposed to. he groans, eyelashes fluttering shut in frustration. he swears he's a changed man but the patience he has wears thin when it comes to studying. the house of daena is a considerably quiet place for a public library. there's the occasional bustle of students, their arms full of leatherbound tomes as they gossip amongst themselves - whether it is research related or not escapes the man from where he sits. he knows why he's so distraught and unable to focus but celestia forbid if he ever vocally admits it - it's been a few days since he could even see your face. he'd got himself tangled up in preparing for this exam to the point where he'd barely left the house of daena. that would be another thing he is not keen to admit aloud, his determination to receive praise from lesser lord kusanali regarding his efforts. "i knew i'd find you here," that voice... it's so familiar but why? his eyes open, his gaze sharp at whoever dared to disturb him when he was clearly so perturbed by his studies but they fall onto your form, a bag in your hands that smells like fresh pastries, "i passed kaveh on the way here and he voiced that you hadn't eaten lunch, love - so i stopped at puspa cafe." he clicks his tongue, a soft scoff coming his lips as you approach closer to the desk he was seated at, numerous books scattered wide open on differing pages. for someone who uttered nothing but complaints of his position in the vahumana darshan, he took his studies awfully serious. more so, you didn't miss the way his eyes rolled at the mention of the blond kshahrewar alumni who was always too expressive for his own good. "you didn't have to." he mumbles, a little reluctant to thank you but you knew what he meant when a smile crosses your face, placing the brown paper bag onto the desk beside his books. wanderer glances down your body before his arm wraps around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. "h-hey!" you squeak, eyes wide in surprise. he quirks a brow, amused before he rests his chin on your shoulder, returning back to the studying he'd previously struggled with. coincidentally, suddenly the words made sense and weren't so hazy in his mind. "just stay still." he sighs, a hand placed on the small of your back while the other one flips the yellowed pages in front of him. you have no choice but to slump your shoulders, hands idly playing in his hair - a rare opportunity considering he is usually wearing his hat - as your boyfriend continues to study.

xiao promised that auspicious blonde traveler that he'd be at their beck and call if only they said his name. you had no qualms with this, it was a scenario he also had applied to your relationship. at first he hadn't, being too scared of genuinely giving you love and affection to begin with but when he'd warmed, xiao promised to protect you with his life. you do however scold him when he returns back to his room at wangshu inn, some minor scrapes and injuries dotting his pale skin.

he would flinch at the slightest of your touches but there was always some sort of warm feeling resonating deep in his chest when his eyes glaze over how concerned you are in his stead.

there's a sharp wince that leaves his mouth through gritted teeth when you wipe the cut on his cheek. a frown adorns your face and xiao feels a stab of pity that you were once again nursing his wounds like a disappointed mother. he was starting to seriously debate if there was anything he wouldn't feel extreme guilt over when it came to you, you truly were too good for him in his eyes. "what are you thinking about?" you ask quietly, watching his brows knit together in a slight confusion, "your eyes always look so pitiful when i do this, love." xiao makes a soft noise in return, golden eyes flickering away to avoid eye contact. he'll look anywhere but you, not keen on how well you read him like a book even during his worst moments. even when it works against him, he treasures that you know him well. he's never been explicitly good at communicating - he might as well start writing his feelings on parchment - and your coincidental skill of just being able to read him fit that perfectly. "you care so much despite-" you click your tongue, a little irritated as your eyes turn sharp on your boyfriend. xiao sighs, tilting his head away when he feels you wipe the damp cloth across his cheek again. "someone has to care for you when you're off gallivanting being the hero in everyone else's story." your words tumble out without second thought. he's always at the ready when it comes to that blonde traveler's life or even yours and yet, nobody is at the ready for his own life. he knew that you was always going to be the one that cared and protected him when he didn't do it for himself. you were his home to come back to, the warmth of a fireplace and the golden glow of an oil lamp in the corner. you were the one who attended to his every scratch and cut, the one who placed kisses on his bruises and claimed your kiss was 'magic.' a small crack of a smile appears on xiao's face, his head nodding as he leans to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

kaeya may have his bad habits of occasionally slacking his work sometimes on the premise that he gets to spend time with you however when he does bury his head into the paperwork and commissions - only after you nag him - it becomes a challenge to get time together. if you even remotely complain, kaeya will cheekily shove back in your face that it was you who nagged him to get his work done.

he makes up for the time he loses with you while he's away at work, whether it be candlelit dinners over a bottle of red wine or picnics in the mondstadt summer sun, he's sure to cherish every moment he gets.

"that one looks like a bird." you comment, index finger pointing at a cloud as it floats past, light and fluffy in appearance against the blue backdrop of the sky. kaeya grins, shaking his head. "how in teyvat did you get a bird from that?" he asks curiously, glancing over at you with an eye so blue it challenges the tides of teyvat's oceans. you pout at the thought that kaeya hadn't seen the same outline of the cloud that you had, puffing your cheeks. "well... there's a wing and if you look over there that's a beak..." you're explaining it so vividly, hands waving around as a form of expressing yourself but kaeya isn't looking at the clouds. he's drinking in the sparkle in your eyes, the smile that widens on your face when you spot another cloud - this time you're certain it's a fish! kaeya lets out the occasional hum of encouragement, giving off the impression that he is most certainly listening to you but all it takes is one glance in his direction and you can see the half dazed look in his eye, swirling with distant dreams; ones where you have a family, a glittering ring on your finger and perhaps even a house in the city. "are you even listening to me?" you huff, a heat flushing up your neck and to your cheeks when your boyfriend doesn't pull that lovedrunk gaze away from you. a chuckle leaves soft lips, one of his gloved hands lacing with yours. "uh-huh, yeah, something about beaks and wings..." kaeya finds it adorable when you roll your eyes, looking away in a flustered state as he props himself on his elbows, leaning closer to you, "the clouds are pretty but you are much prettier." "kaeya i swear to-" he cuts you off, tutting with a cheeky grin. "swear to who? barbatos?" he hums, pressing a kiss to your head when you roll into his chest, hoping he'll give it a rest if you just comply and wrap around his finger, like you always do. and unsurprisingly, he does give in. he hooks an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as his gaze finally turns up the faint hue of orange that the sky is fading into, the clouds dusted rosy pinks when the sun begins to set. he knows that soon the two of you will have to walk back down the cliff, back to mondstadt where you'll share a night curled up in bed for the first time in days before kaeya is back to work the next morning. in retaliation of these thoughts, the tips of his fingers press into the flesh of your upper arm more than usual and his brows knit together in a way he hopes you don't notice. but your eyes are closed, your face falling peaceful when you've drifted asleep to the rhythm of your boyfriend's heartbeat.

© https-heizou 2023.

[cecilysass]

Happy birthday, Fox Mulder! (celebrating with Spooky fic recs)

In honor of Mulder’s birthday, here's a somewhat eclectic selection of Mulder-centric fic. (Some of this isn’t a very nice way to celebrate his birthday as it is a bit angsty and traumatic, but luckily he doesn’t know.) These are all just fics that feature Mulder in the foreground I happen to admire and think of offhand; there are sooo many more.

Genius by Kipler This is a vintage fic (written 1995!) and it feels SO MUCH like an early episode of the show in vibes. A casefile that becomes a serious Mulder character exploration. Canon divergent, but it feels like it could have been canon in some parallel XF universe.

Just the Thing - pinebluffvariant This is about opening presents after How The Ghosts Stole Christmas, not his birthday, but right mood. The end of this … y'all, my breath catches, it’s so perfect.

The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet - storybycorey Mulder’s ABCs of Scully. This seems at first like alphabet themed vignettes, but omg keep reading until the last, because it becomes a narrative that make me weep.

Mrs. and Mr. Spooky - leiascully This fic has both (1) a Tom Colton reunion and (2) Scully seriously upping her birthday present game.

Normal Conversations - Soronia Mulder goes to therapy. The therapist suggests he has normal conversations.

october midnight- skuls Mulder celebrates his birthday in 2018.

Radium - spark_writer Dysfunctional, miserable Mulder in love will do anything but tell her.

Seventeen - scapegrace74 A history of Mulder’s sexual experiences. This ends up being a really moving character study that takes his personal trauma seriously. It also is MSR and leads to that in a simply beautiful way.

Vox Mulder: Wired and Fired - darwin_xf This is a long, rich exploration of how Mulder evolves season 6/7, a kind of replacement for The Sixth Extinction / Amor Fati. Masterful dialogue, partner vacations, smut -- if you haven't read this, it's a treat. You should.

You Send Me - spookynerd Mulder as romantically smitten and completely in character. He’s anxious and miserable and developing theories. This fic is sweet and darling and deliiiiiightful.

[ebonyslasher]

Spicy Alphabet: Black Noir

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Staring at you lovingly, he caresses your face. Your arm. Your stomach. Earving carries you to the bathroom for cleanup and carries you back when you're done. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner���s)

Earving: Arms. They are toned perfectly. They look very good when he's wearing a T-shirt. He flexes them in front of the mirror like he's a bodybuilder lol 

You: Stomach. Black noir is a sucker for a nice stomach. He will have his hands on your tummy in some type of way. Holding, rubbing, etc. Tummies are just adorable to him for some reason. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Doesn't care where he comes, he's just happy to be there! Although, it looks very nice on your skin….

He has an average amount of cum. For some reason, it always has a nice taste. Good for swallowing.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

His cartoon animals had to give him a demonstration on how sex looked like and how it should feel. Although grateful, it was traumatizing to see that play out. And embarrassing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Fairly. He's had a few sexual experiences with other people. It's pretty scattered. Black Noir is an expert in everything that he does. So, his stroke game is absolutely fire 🔥. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Earving can be silly if he's in the mood to be. He has pretended your nipples were joysticks a couple of times 😑. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Ahhhh so tidy! He keeps his lower curls trimmed at all times. Unless he's been on a mission for a while. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's a cartoon-style romantic. Seriously does everything you'd see in a show or movie. It's extremely romantic- often a bit overwhelming. But it's cute to witness. Earving likes holding your hand during sex. Everything.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sometimes he will jack off, only when you aren't available. Black Noir would rather wait until he gets back to you. The orgasms hit harder.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Roleplay/cosplay, phone sex, abduction play, voyeurism, bondage, etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom or an abandoned building (abduction play) 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Flirting, mainly. Watching you when you're alone; if you walk around nude, then he'll go a little crazy. Rubbing your own stomach is a turn on as well. Being silly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that seriously hurts you or him. Also, don't touch his head injury during sex. He's okay with it before or after. Also, no blindfolding him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Black noir prefers to give and he does it well. Your toes will definitely curl. 

He doesn't care to receive. It's just that he prefers to be inside you than getting a BJ. But if you really want to, he will let you. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on what you tell him you want. He's great at going slow and hard though.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a huge fan of quickies himself. Only if he's extremely horny and about to go on a mission will he consider one.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Somewhat, it depends on the activity. Earving will weigh out the pros and cons before making a decision.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Black noir is a supe, and a very strong one. His stamina is amazing. He can keep going until you say stop. He hasn't reached his limit before.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

At most, he'd own one toy, but he's good with his hand. For you, he will contribute to your collection. He loves watching you masturbate with them. And he likes using them on you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Surprisingly, he can be a big tease. Earving wants to see your reaction to being teased. He thinks your faces are cute and frustrated sounds are sexy. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Somewhat loud. He will moan and say your name. And give you praise. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He avoids wearing his suit when he's at home and he turns off his suit camera during any abduction plays. However, one time, he forgot to turn it off during one of your sessions. The next meeting he had a Vought featured them trying to sell the footage as an exclusive sex tape. He almost eviscerated everyone in that room.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8", moderate thickness. His dick is pretty looking actually 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Moderate. He's very controlled. It's higher when you're around.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He will stay up for a while after. Depending on what he needs to do, he may or may not sleep. But what he will do is kiss and hold you with love

[puppetmaster13u]

SO. Thinkin of This AU/Thread of ideas. Y'know, Halfa Jason adopting the entire liminal class. That one.

But what if, Dragon. Because I am in fact weak to dragon AUs. And I could draw them, but instead have scrys beneath the keep reading bit.

So, Ghosts are Dragons sort of AU. Which means that the people in Crime Alley debate on whether local dad Peter (Who is totally with Red Hood they're sure) & the kids are dragon-based metas, or in fact straight up dragons disguised as humans.

Jason isn't exactly oblivious about this per se, but like, dude also has 13 kids ranging from 4 to 6 who are also both very powerful and also traumatized from the whole GIW experiments going on. So. He's understandable more than a bit Distracted.

Jason [Star Core] & Jazz [Ocean Core] & Jordan [Sun Core]

Kyle [Shadow Core] & Kwan [Wind Core] & Dash [Speed Core]

Wes [Light Core] & Paulina [Fire Core] & Star [Electric Core]

Sam [Life Core] & Tucker [Storm Core] & Valerie [Metal Core]

Ellie [Moon Core] & Danny [Space Core] [& Bonus Fright Knight just Because]

Also have link to the designs of the fam for the base Au

Psspspsps @mkarchin713 @radiance1 @hdgnj @theobliviousshipper perhaps u may enjoy or have ideas