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komelliko · 2 days ago

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manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: Now that he finally has you alone in his office, Sunday decides to further his goals of dominion. wc: 2.3k - this is nsfw! cw for dubcon! sexual fantasy, piv penetration, office sex, desk sex, softdom!sunday, huge massive misogynistic hypocrite sunday a/n: The guillemets «» are used to indicate Sunday's Harmony powers this time!

part 6 (nsfw) / part 7 (nsfw)

---

You've broken out your old typeboard to compensate for having to sit in an office all day. Most people don't bother with typeboards anymore. Not when phones can record speech or pull up a keyboard on the screen, and not when typeboards are so.. noisy. The flurry of smooth metal buttons clacking like cold rain on a tin roof is a sound that makes the younger Oak Family interns anxious, but you enjoy the sound. When you can't hear the clicking of your shoes against the floor as you walk around, the sound of the typeboard is a decent enough substitute.

Sunday has been watching you from his desk, reading over grievances relating to The Family's congregation. He couldn't care less about the complaints of some of these corrupt, selfish reprobates. Not when watching you cross your legs and stare harder into the screen of your typeboard is more entertaining.

He wonders to himself: Do you even notice the way his eyes linger? How his watchful gaze sticks to you like dew on a fresh blade of grass? How the slightest smile forms at the corners of his lips from the way your trousers are just short enough to show a sliver of ankle, soft and bared?

Should you have no reason or means to protest, Sunday would sit in front of you and remove your shoe himself, gloved hands starting at your short sock, ascending to cradle your ankle, then disappearing up and underneath the leg of your pants to stroke your calf, fingers running calmly over your flesh as the outline of his hands stretches the fabric of your trousers. He smiles as he ponders if that, too, is something you would never even consider from him.

Sunday leans back in his chair, his legs spread slightly open. There’s no reason for him to be ashamed of anything, he surmises to himself. His handling of you has been modest, after all, compared to the filth of Penacony. He’s seen what avaricious, lustful men do when they feel they can exercise their will, and he hasn’t done anything of the sort. None of those men enact their will for the sake of responsibility.

Sunday gets up from his chair, which only draws his attention to how tight his pants have become. Still, he’s sure you won’t notice when he asks you: “Dear, I’ve been looking for something Madam Ellis sent me, but I’m afraid it got itself lost in my desk. While I fetch myself some water, can you look for me?” As you get up to do so, Sunday goes to fill a small paper cup of water from the dispenser near the door. He takes a single sip, glances to see if you’re watching him, and quickly disposes of it, locking the door to his office and gripping the handle.

« Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, may your hands seal this entrance and isolate this space, so not a sound may pass through. »

You bend at the hips to search through the drawers of Sunday’s desk. It’s a learned habit: Even with how long your pencil skirts often are, crouching while wearing one has always felt way too risky, especially for the secretary of a Family Head. Whether this was Sunday’s intention or not when he put them in the dress code, you suppose you can never be sure.

There’s this dull throbbing you feel as you scan over every paper and file, felt in tandem with your heartbeat, that settles itself in your core. Even as you try to take your mind off of those odd moments with Sunday, the knowledge you gained from them is something you can’t shake, tucked snugly within your body with no plans of extricating itself. It’s… not exactly lust, you reason, but more so an anticipation or a dread. You can feel the anxiety pool between your thighs as your eyes scan blankly over words you’re no longer reading; Whatever you want to tell yourself the feeling is, it’s potent and it clouds your mind.

By the time Sunday is back and pinning you against his desk, you've forgotten why he told you to look through it entirely. —In all fairness, it was meant to be a trap.

"I don't think I thank you enough, [Y/N].” His voice is soft and gentle as he keeps one hand resting on your hip, the other snaking around to find the button of your pants. “I can’t imagine what I’d do without you in my life, dear. I’m a much more fragile man than I present myself to be.” His eyes lock on the door at the end of the room. It would be entirely irresponsible to have left the door unlocked or even open, and Sunday wouldn’t dare take such a risk when a man like him had too much at stake. Still, his nostrils flare as he pictures what it would be like to fuck you in front of an audience. That Avgin scum especially. Perhaps the gambler deserved a demonstration of Sunday’s claim over you, both to send a message and to humble him. Damned wretch.

You can feel his clothed cock poking against your backside even better now that Sunday has let your pants fall to your ankles. You stay put, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you switch between looking at the desk you’re pressed up against and the door in front of you. It would only be sensible to at least raise your concerns (even if making a scene was something you couldn’t bring yourself to do), but… that sense of anticipation building inside of you wants to be sated, even for a little bit. Even if your conscience disagrees.

Two of Sunday’s fingers breach you, and you flinch as they begin to move, stroking you from the inside. Just like before, Sunday lets out a groan, albeit softer and more controlled. You can’t see his face, but his eyes are now focused on where his knuckle ends and you begin, fluid dripping into his palm. Sunday is moved by the sight of it—by its beauty, and by the equal beauty of your mewling noises as he continues to finger you. As he moves closer to you, hips flush against his hand flush against your cunt, Sunday lets his other hand explore your bare legs, gloved fingers running over the soft flesh of your thigh.

“You don’t need to keep quiet, my love,” he reassures you, quickening the pace of his fingers. “I promise you, nobody can hear us right now. It’s just us.” Sunday takes a breath, and as he grazes your g-spot you nearly gasp with him. “I don’t ever mean to frighten you, you know. Sometimes, we simply have to be more forward when it comes to what is ours and what isn’t, yes?” Your brows furrow. What the fuck is he talking about? It would probably be easier to process his words if he hadn’t just slipped a third finger into your cunt, though, so all you can respond with to voice your confusion is a low moan.

“More than anything, I want you to be willing,” Sunday continues, maybe for no better reason than to hear the sound of his own voice over your cries of pleasure. “I want you to want this as much as I do, as often as I do. Only then can I be truly happy with myself. Do you understand that, my love?” You nod out of instinct, and Sunday takes it as his cue to finally free his erection. After cleaning the juices from his hand off on it, Sunday removes your panties, steadies your hips with his hand, and then penetrates.

Another mess of unintelligible noises leave your mouth from the feeling of him inside you. You’re too far gone to have reservations, so all you do is push your hips back into the feeling and grip the ledge of the desk. Your hair must be a mess by now, your face flushed and tear-pricked, your clothes wrinkled and wholly unpresentable—After all this work to get to the top through work alone, you should probably feel like this is an insult. Still, Sunday begins to thrust, and you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“[Y/N]! Mmh, Aeon— You’re divine,” Sunday gasps, his grip on your hips only tightening. “Oh, was this worth every minute of waiting! I’ve been so patient, darling, so incredibly patient.” As Sunday finds his pace, his hands begin to wander, the smooth cotton on his gloves running up and down your naked thighs and hips, gently kneading your flesh. In the safety of the closed-off room, he lets himself moan freely, gasping and crying out every time he feels himself bottom out inside you. Sunday flexes his abdominals to keep himself standing lest he falls over on top of you and loses himself in his own pleasure, the muscles in his stomach quivering and twisting. You’re sure that if you could see it, the sight wouldn’t be awful—Sunday has always been a very attractive man. Maybe his gaze softening into a semi-pained expression of ecstasy would enhance his beauty, if he didn’t have a pattern of fucking you from angles where you couldn’t see it.

Sunday reasons to himself that this instance is merely a fluke—An instance of your union (and of his rightful assumption of responsibility) that shall be the exception and not the norm. It’s the sin of haste that has him fucking you like a common whore, your cyprine rolling down your thighs and reaching your knees as his hips rhythmically collide with your ass. Regardless, it’s a sin that does not define him, and one he will not let define him: Any further instance will take the proper course and order, no doubt occurring in his room, on his bed, in the appropriate romantic fashion.

Still, he finds he's getting close—In no doubt due to how perfect you are, how wonderful you feel around him. So, his thinking shifts: Who could blame him? Who could find this worth scorn? As you continue to suck him in further, further, greedily, he surmises that perhaps this act is no transgression. It is only the just thing to do, to give you what you so clearly and desperately need.

You hear Sunday ask you something, or maybe warn you, but you're too far gone to understand his words. The way his hands continue to run up and down your slick-soaked thighs has you paralyzed, and if you had any room to think between his thrusts your first thought would be to worry about whether the puddle of drool you've left on his desk has leaked onto any of his papers. You just let out another moan in response, another weak and mumbled "Sunday", and his own response is to start fucking you harder, effectively shutting out any chance of processing it.

You can only make out bits of what he starts to whimper and mewl as his nails dig into your hips: "union", "perfect", "meant to be". A string of noises sounding awfully close to "I love you", too, amidst babblings sounding like your name. Sunday leans over, and you can feel his stomach press up against your back, his fingers prying your legs further apart.

"The power you have over me is unthinkable, [Y/N]," he whispers in your ear. "You alone dominate every thought, every waking moment of mine." Sunday whimpers some more, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as it drowns out the squelching noises. "Please, you must understand. I need you as much as you need me. Nothing else can take precedence."

"Mmh, Aeons," you cry out, not really in response to his words more than in response to the way he's drilling into you. "Sunday, I'm-"

"Yes, yes I know," he coos back. "Don't hold back, please. You deserve this."

Sunday is barely able to even snake a hand down to attend to your clit before he feels you clench hard around him, your head thumping against the desk as the high of your orgasm overwhelms you. His hips start to move erratically, attempting to help you ride out that high, but soon it proves even too much for him to last through. Of course, you had given him permission to not 'pull out', so what issue could there be?

A wave of fatigue falls over you as reality sets back in, like a cold sobering splash of water to quell the summer heat. Your hair is a mess, you don't have anything on hand to fix your makeup, and your pants and underwear are likely ruined. As you shift in place, you can feel strewn papers underneath your stomach, all of them likely crumpled. You're not sure how much time was spent doing this that you could've spent working on sending emails or looking over reports.

The anticipation has been satiated, and all that remains is an awful sense of dread.

Sunday plants a kiss on the shell of your ear and finally pulls himself out of you, even more cum and cyprine rolling down your legs. You're too exhausted to shut them to try and stop it. Sunday, too, is exhausted, given the fact that you feel him bend over to rest on top of you, his stomach once again flush with your back.

"What excellent judgement I had in choosing you," he sighs dreamily. "You fit me like a glove—Quite literally, I've found." Sunday chuckles, and you feel his hands worm around your sides to wrap around you. "Thank you, [Y/N]. Geniunely."

The moment is interrupted by a phone call. Sunday gets off of you to pick it up, almost immediately discounting you.

"Sister?" he asks, phone pressed up against his ear as he starts to redress himself. He fumbles through redoing his belt with one hand as he adds "No, I'm not busy at all. -Uhm, mind the noise, we're trying to rearrange my office. No, no, you're not bothering me at all, dear sister..."

Your head falls to meet the edge of the desk again. It will be at least half an hour before you get the motivation to move and look at yourself again.

---

a/n: someone teach this fuckass kfc bucket the concept of aftercare tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d @ruruize @herrscherofprocrastination @ikevampharem @hirwishin @jill7848 @breadlmao @belovedoftheanemoarchon @moongirl-1 @qualitysaladfarmstatesman @cupcake54492

#sunday's secretary #hsr sunday #sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday x y/n #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #manipulative yandere #sunday hsr #sunday smut #hsr smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days ago

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Meet the Family 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, reference to suicide and Lloyd being offensive, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Thanks for all your patience.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Migraines always leave you a bit foggy. Like a hangover, or even a concussion. You power through the airport, waiting in line with your mustachioed curse. Lloyd taps his toe incessantly, adding to the plethora of overstimulation all around you. This isn’t how you envisioned your holidays.

It’s the 26th and you’re supposed to be on your way home, not catching the flight you booked for two days before. And alone. You’re supposed to be alone.

You take your boarding pass and leave Lloyd’s for him to grab himself. He huffs and follows after you. He’s like a big dumb dog sometimes. It’s amazing that the realization only comes over you then. It’s pretty obvious when he’s not behind a desk growling like some mafioso. He’s no kingpin, he’s a clown.

You drop into a seat, your carry-on beside you, and he claims the seat to your left. He’s on the edge, jiggling his leg. You could thank him for upgrading you both to first class but he’s the reason you’re even there. It’s the least he could do.

You cross your arms and stare through the haze. The first-class lounge is quiet and softly lit. Isolated but for the pest next to you. He continues to fidget. Is he nervous? You didn’t think that was possible since he seems to lack any degree of self-awareness.

“So, gimme the down low. You got a mom? Girl like you screams daddy issues. Is he still around?”

You sigh. “Sure is.”

“Wow, okay. Good guy? Strict? Shit, knowing you, he must be a hard ass,” he scoffs. “Should I put on my best behaviour? Should I have worn a tie, Pixie pie?” He tugs at the collar of his turtleneck.

“What you can do is hush,” you retort. “Jesus, I’m tryna get my head together.”

“Last night was wild,” he agrees, though it’s not the point you were making, nor a statement of fact. “We were so close, Pix. You shoulda just laid back and let the magic hands do their tricks. Promise,” he smooths his mustache, “this isn’t just for show. I’ve been told it adds a lot of sensation--”

“Ew. Would you—if you even say any of that in front of my family--”

“You gonna spank me?” He asks brightly and sits back, slinging an arm over the back of your chair.

“Please. I have to at least make this believable and you’re not making it any easier,” you snarl.

“Are you serious? Our chemistry is like if Einstein banged a beaker--”

“Einstein was a physicist--”

“Science is science, baby. All I know is there’s something here and the sooner you accept it, the harder I’ll-- I mean the easier this will be.”

You look at him dully. All those years you spent bending over backward for him. Behind the mask, he’s a cretin. You always had a suspicion but he was never your creep to deal with.

“How do you do that?” He asks.

You grumble and shake your head, turning your glare to the flat screen across from you.

“How the hell do you skin a man with your eyes? It’s bone tingling and boner-inducing, but damn, it’s something else,” he shifts in his chair noticeably, “you’re gonna make me fly all the way to Canada at half-mast?”

“You can book a seat across the plane from me if you’re going to keep on,” you warn him. “I’m really not in the mood. We have a deal. I’ll do my part. Pretend, nothing more, and you’ll keep your hands to yourself and give me my money.”

“I got it, baby. I’m a businessman,” he turns straight and plants his feet wide. “I make deals every day. You’ll get yours.”

“I want an advance--”

“An advance? What the hell do you mean? I paid for first-class. Elite,” he punctuates with his finger. “Advance, my juicy ass.”

“Ten. In my account. Before take-off.”

“Pfft, you don’t trust me?”

“No, I don’t,” you affirm. “More so, you owe me. I defaulted on the refund on the flight you made me miss. Oh, and I didn’t get to see my family. On Christmas.”

“Jeez, well you don’t seem that happy to,” he accuses.

“Money, now.”

“Fine, but I get one titty grab--”

“You get nothing. Mon-ey.” You rub your fingers together.

He huffs and leans forward as he takes his phone out. He rolls his eyes and taps around on the screen. He takes a deep breath then pushes down. He shows you the screen. “Go ahead and check. You got your blood money.”

“This is your idea,” you retort.

“It is my idea but you’re rejecting all my other ones. Like, you know, a sexy massage with a happy ending...”

“You’re going to give me another headache.”

“I’ll take it. At least I make you feel something.” He shrugs.

You shake your head at nothing and check your phone. You can never be too careful with him. Sharing a room has more than proven that.

🎁

You put the in-flight earbuds in and resign yourself to the hours ahead of you, trapped in a flying canister, next to this incessant man-child. He really brings out the bitch in you. That irritates you even more. You could do anything before without much thought at all; you just got through but Lloyd makes everything a task.

You close your eyes as the video babbles on. It’s a new release, but those are all remakes and sequels without any real interest. The altitude does little for the shadow of achiness that lingers in the base of your skull. One wrong move and you’ll reawaken your migraine.

The steady thrum of air around the plane lulls you in a stupor. Just enough for you to stop caring but not deep enough for sleep. You let your head fall toward the window and sink into the numb daze.

A small tickle makes you shift. You think nothing of it. It’s so small, it could be nothing. Then the sensation travels down to your knee and back up your thigh. You smack Lloyd’s hand before he can repeat the action.

“Quit,” you hiss.

He spreads his hand and curls his fingers into your tender flesh. You squeak and open your eyes, clasping onto his wrist as he needs. It’s as if he pinching your nerves.

“Ow, oh, stop--” you protest.

“Come on, baby,” he leans over and winks. “Just let me pet the kitty. It’ll help you relax.”

“How many times can I tell you the same thing--”

“Just like a dog, you need to be repetitive. Conditioning or whatever,” he purrs.

You glance past him at the low wall blocking out your seats from the sight of the other pods in first class. You clutch his two middle fingers and squeeze. You bend them back until he grunts and recoils.

“You touching me isn’t going to make me relax--”

“Never know if you don’t try,” he wiggles his brows.

“Trust me, I know.”

“I’m sure your family don’t need you in a pissy mood. I’m doing it for them, Pixie.”

“Can I ask you something?” You narrow your eyes, “does the begging usually work?”

He snorts. He shakes his head and sits back, raising his palms, “you will be flattered to know I don’t usually beg.” He leans against the seat and rests his head on the cushion. “When I tell a girl to hike her skirt up, she just does it. All of them but you.” He clucks and rolls his eyes. “You know that pretty blond from Pristine? Yeah, whenever she comes around, I got her bent over the desk. Thought you’d catch on, she’s not very quiet.”

You won’t grace him with an excuse. You don’t need one. You’re usually busy, minding your own business, running his errands. You never cared about his office flings.

“Maybe you should’ve asked her to meet your family,” you suggest.

“Kidding me? She never shuts up. I gotta stuff my tie in her mouth. Usually why I turn her around--”

“Lloyd,” you snap.

“Jealous?” He smirks and you stare back blankly. “You know what? Gotta admit, you surprised me, Pixie Pie. Always quiet in the office, scurrying around like a little mouse. I figured you’d be good because you’d keep the yapper shut. Turns out, you know how to cut deep.” He pushes his shoulders wide and settles. “Never saw mom like that. Or Lillian. Yeah, that was good. You really got her.”

He snickers and flutters his fingers menacingly. You yawn and look at the small screen. You don’t know what’s going on in the movie. What you do know is that Lloyd Hansen has more issues than one person can solve and you’re not there for anything but business. This is work. You’re getting your money and you’re moving on.

🎁

Landing is usually a relief. You’re always happy to be on solid ground but it feels shaky as you walk off with your travel companion. The bounce in Lloyd’s step concerns you. He’s much too eager for this.

He grabs his bags from the carousel, yours too before you can even approach. He loads them all onto a car and steers it around the airport. He’s whistling as you get through the terminal and head for the front doors. As you step outside, he chatters and stops short.

“Holy grizzly dick, it’s freezing here,” he puffs a cloud of steam as his nose tints pink.

“There’s not much more snow here than back in the States.”

“Nah, it’s fucking frigid. Should’ve known,” he shivers and tucks his chin down. You make note of his snipe but don’t acknowledge it. “You maple drinkers drive on the same side of the road?” You glare at him and he winces as he meets your eyes. You’ve booked him trips to Vancouver several times. “Kidding. Obviously. That whole polite stereotype is bullshit, huh, Pix.”

You ignore him and hail a cab. You just want to be still. The last few days, you’ve been upended. The long drive, his family, the hotel, then a plane ride on top of it all. You’re ready to just stop.

He wheels the cart around to the trunk and leaves it to the driver to load. You want to admonish him but you’re over the argument. You know you’re going to need your energy. You get in and he climbs in with you.

He blows into his hands then rubs his cheek. “Santa dropped a load on this place, huh?” He unzips his coat and reaches under it. He fishes around the inside pocket and slips out a pair of glasses. You furrow your nose. You’ve never seen him wear glasses.

“Where did you get those?”

“Hipster boy in coach. Snagged them when I hit the restroom,” he explains and pops them on, leaning against you as he cranes to see his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

“You stole glasses?”

“Borrowed,” he insists then turns to you. “What’d ya think? Am I the perfect good boy for mom and pop?”

“You think glasses are gonna do something?”

“We talked about this, we gotta be convincing, sweetheart. I gotta be a man that sweet lil Pixie would go for.” He adjusts the glasses. “I read Hemingway and have a degree in Social Justice.”

“Shut--” you catch yourself and sniff. “I don’t even like Hemingway.”

“Jane Austen? Really? A romantic?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’d say. We have to at least pretend we can stand each other. Not just...” he looks down at his lap, “stand for each other.”

“Ugh, well, start with cutting out those nasty remarks. Second, try, uh, taking care of...” you gesture over your lip, “this.”

He blinks and his brows draw together. He touches his upper lip, “my mustache?” His eyes widen behind the lenses. “Um, this is style, honey.”

You scrunch your lips as you try not to laugh. He really believes that. You shrug as the driver gets in. He crosses his arms.

“Whatever. Judge me but don’t just the stache,” he snips. “So, you gotta tell me. Favourite book.”

“Do I?”

“Well, we’re ‘engaged’ so I think I should know,” he argues.

You watch through the windshield as the taxi follows the airport traffic to the street, “The Bell Jar. If I have to choose one.”

“Oooh, Plath. How... depressing. But I knew it, you’re a reader, Pixie. Bet you like to sink into a hot tub and get cozy with a good novel. You get the kinky one, let the hand wander below the surface--”

You elbow him and he cackles. “Alright, sorry. I just—a man’s used to eating daily.”

“Maybe a diet will do you well,” you retort.

“Cheat day will come soon enough,” he says. “I’ll do my best to keep my pants on, just don’t go putting your head in any ovens.”

“You’re awful,” you exclaim. “That’s awful.”

“Alright,” he combs his hair back, “gonna be a good boy. Promise.”

“You can take the glasses off.”

“I kinda like ‘em,” he grins and pinches the arms.

You make a face but say nothing. The city passes by and your eyes gloss over the familiar sights. The taxi drops you at the rental place and you pull up the booking. There’s at least an hour before you get outside Toronto, then another to your mom’s place. You take the keys and jingle them at Lloyd.

“Wanna drive?” You ask.

“I don’t really know where I’m going,” he says.

“Right.”

“Besides, Pixie, you got control issues.”

“Me?” You scoff. “Sure.”

“Oh, you do,” he assures you as you cross the lot to the rental. “Once you give in to them, you’ll be a lot happier and I'll be your perfect sub.”

You pop the trunk and tut as you approach the driver’s side, “get the bags in the car, would ya?”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #meet the family #the gray man

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hedwig221b · 18 hours ago

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You are amazing ✨✨✨

Do you have any feral Derek fic recs?? Especially if he’s stuck as a wolf?? Bonus points if Stiles thinks he’s just a big friendly dog 🥹

Hi, love! Thank uuu! I absolutely love feral wolf Derek, it always delivers. Here's a very long rec list, enjoy!

Waiting by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Not wanting to think on it too much, Stiles took a step forward and passed his hand between the bars, moving the bleeding side closer to Derek’s mouth. “Not too close, he bites.” Stiles snatched his hand away just as Derek had been about to lick at it. The snarl he got in response was not comforting. “He what?” Stiles asked nervously, turning to Deaton. The man looked a little amused. “Don’t worry, only if he doesn’t like you.” “Well, he probably hates me, now!” Stiles insisted, turning back to Derek.

He looked extremely displeased.

You're My Sanctuary by lilmissdaydreamer

The Argent Wolf Sanctuary. It’s been Stiles’ dream since he was five years old to work with the wolves, ever since his mother took him up there to see the magnificent creatures on one of their ‘full moon runs’ that the Sanctuary does once a month. The wolves are beautiful and much larger than Stiles would’ve thought, or at least, the newest wolf is. The owner had said he’s a special breed. Stiles just didn’t realize quite how special he is.

Stuck in This in Between by calrissian18

“You’re not getting better, Derek.” And it was the first time he’d called him that since he’d realized he wasn’t really.

The Feral Alpha by halcyon1993

Derek has lived in a half-feral state in the wilderness ever since hunters killed his family. When the hunters return years later, he gets his revenge and finds his true mate in one of the boys they were holding captive. He claims him immediately.

Safe Mind by LadyDrace

Derek goes missing for a while and comes back full wolf. Only problem is that his mind has gone wolf too, and for some reason the only one he'll allow near him… is Stiles.

Of Blood and Feral Wolves by Flicker_Ash

After Stiles is hurt in a surprise attack, Derek's wolf takes over and won't let anyone near him. Doesn't matter if it's Scott or a paramedic, when there's blood and no sarcasm, no-one's touching Stiles.

Light at the end of the tunnel by Lesatha

“Careful, Stilinski. Don’t think you can go around telling me what to do, or coddling the werewolf.” “What does it matter to you?” “If the feral alpha kills you, it will be my fault, as your supervisor.” Stiles’ head whipped towards the werewolf. He couldn’t see much of him apart from his red eyes, always following Stiles. Crazy as it might sound, it comforted him. The werewolf wasn’t the rabid animal Elis seemed to picture. He was just… hurt.

Feral by melofttroll

Scott’s yelling now as the Jeep comes to a halt, and Stiles ignores him as he clambers from the seat. The skid turned the Jeep completely around, and his headlights are pointed at something that is decidedly not dog-ish, or bear-ish, but very, very human. And by the shuddering breaths coming from the man’s chest, very much alive. Feral!Derek, Sterek AU

Lessons in Humanity by exclamation

Fleeing from werewolves, Stiles comes face to face with Derek, a werewolf human in shape but animal in his mind. Stiles is terrified of being killed, but it seems Derek has decided Stiles would make a suitable mate. Unfortunately, his idea of a romantic gift is a dead animal on the doorstep. Stiles must help Derek remember what it is to be human… and figure out how to explain his new werewolf stalker to his dad.

Throw Away the Key by mommymuffin

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself. It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart. Sucks that it's Derek, though.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist. Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope. He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles. “I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch

Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college. Well, except for the fact that he's a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica's epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there's this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him. Oh, and the murders, of course. But other than that stuff… totally the same old BH.

There Are No Wolves in California (Werewolves on the Other Hand…) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella), KioFox

“I’m not calming down until you call animal control! I fucking saw it! There were fucking wolves!” “There are no wolves in California, Mr. Daehler,” the principal said, sounding exasperated, like this was the third time she’d said it to him. “Well clearly there are!” he shouted back, showing such a lack of respect for the woman, Stiles had to applaud her for her fortitude not to smack him in the face. “Perhaps you were mistaken,” she said calmly. “No I wasn’t fucking mistaken,” Matt insisted, sounding incensed. “No way these were dogs, they were massive!” For a second, Stiles felt like the world had slowed considerably as those words wormed their way into his brain. Because—he knew a dog that was massive. Honestly, he’d also brushed away the idea of the dog being a wolf because there were no wolves in California. But… what if there were? Holy shit, had Stiles literally spent his lunch break with a fucking wolf cuddled into his side while he pet it?! Good God, he was lucky to still have all his limbs!

Where the Real Beasts Are by kaistrex (weishen)

Crown Prince Stiles is gifted a direwolf on his eighteenth birthday by King Gerard I of Venatia. The only instruction? Never remove the collar. Stiles never has been one to do as he’s told.

The Soul Knows What the Heart Wants by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Holy—shit,” Stiles breathed, Bacon stopping in what he was doing, still staring at him intently, as if begging him to understand, for someone to finally understand. Stiles felt like he’d been electrocuted and he leapt out of his chair, kneeling in front of Bacon and grabbing at his furry face. “Holy shit! Oh my God, are you—wait, holy—you’re not fucking with me, right?!” Bacon let out two quick barks, which Stiles chose to interpret as ‘no.’ "Oh my God, are you a real person in there?!” Stiles shouted in the wolf’s face, staring him right in the eye. He was still holding the wolf’s head with both hands, but Bacon dipped his muzzle in confirmation and Stiles officially lost his mind. “Oh my God!” he shouted again, releasing Bacon to clutch at his own hair. “Oh my God! Dude, for real?! You’re—holy shit! Holy shit!” He didn’t know how to react to this news. He had no fucking idea how to react. This was a person?! But how?! How was this a person?! People didn’t just turn into wolves!

Rabbit Hearted by secondstar, Tsuminoaru

Storytellers were known for their talented tongues, their ability to weave tales and enthrall the listener. Their stories held weight, taken as truth as they were passed down from generation to generation. A tale of a cursed pack of wolves was one such story that Stiles had known since he was a child. Never did he think that he would become part of that tale, or that its weight would be up upon his shoulders. A tale of curses, sacrifices, and acceptance of one's inner self.

Being Close to You by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Realization dawned and Derek cursed himself viciously. How could he be stupid enough to forget Scott was a Werewolf? He could fucking smell him! Scott knew it was him! “Stiles?” Scott asked uncertainly while Stiles started opening and closing various cabinets, looking for who knew what. “That’s not a d—” Derek snarled and let out a loud bark, eyes glowing blue in Scott’s direction since Stiles couldn’t see him from where he was standing. Scott scowled at him, moving closer to him and inhaling pointedly. “What are you doing here, Derek?” Scott asked, voice low enough that Stiles wouldn’t hear. He wasn’t listening anyway, still panicking and randomly opening things.

(You) Bring Out the Beast (In Me) by Ember

“Should I make out the wedding invitations?” Stiles swallowed his mouthful of soda.”What?” Lydia smirked. “Well, you and Derek have seemed awfully cozy lately. Just wanted to be supportive.” “Oh, yeah, because that’s exactly why I went into wildlife preservation.” He rolled his eyes. “Beastiality jokes.” +++ Aka the one where Derek is a wolf and Stiles is his trainer, and then magic and transformations and feelings happen.

A Boy’s Best Friend by KnottheWolf

Stiles was just having some ‘me time’ when things escalated with his dog, Wolf. Or at least, he thinks it’s a dog.

"good boy" by quackquackcey

Stiles doesn’t think his senior year can get any worse with his best friend turning rabid every full moon, until he finds himself stuck with a massive black wolf overnight that doesn’t even like jerky. But on the bright side, the hot guy with the half-dying sister he met at the gas station seems to be in town for a bit, so there’s still a chance that his senior year, his supposed best year of high school, isn’t a complete lost cause…right? That is, if he can manage to juggle the sassy wolf that he takes care of at night and the hot guy that asked him out on a date for some reason.~ 🐺🍕

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles x derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #eternal sterek #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #sterek ao3 #sterek fic rec #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf sterek #teen wolf fic rec #derek x stiles #hedwig221b replies

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braclii · 3 days ago

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WELL... ok you asked for it . but be warned that its just me taking diluc crumbs and interpreting them however i want because if hyv won't give me more diluc lore i'll just write my own

first of all. its very obvious that diluc is literally batman. and while the fandom and the story itself focuses on the anti-hero persona i don't think we focus enough on the man under the mask. one thing we know about bruce wayne is that that man is a player. he will flirt with everyone to get what he wants. while i don't think that diluc is the same exact way, i think he Does play into the most popular bachelor in town role to navigate situations and perhaps cope with all that mental issues he's got.

in the webtoon (which is the place where we learn most about him) we first see him as the rich gentleman who is loved by everyone in the city. he mediates between dottore and seamus like "let's just have fun gentlemen 🤍" yet at the end we see him not caring about either of them and trying to handle the situation himself.

now you might say that this sounds more like kaeya's facade of a player. he's most likely pretending to get his way. and you wouldn't be wrong, but there's another element to consider: this man can't lie + he's obsessed with honesty and justice.

this brings me to my other point: diluc and kaeya are narrative foils. they contrast each other in Every Way. even their color palettes are opposites of each other. they're so opposites of each other that at the end they end up as the same person. we see this in their personalities as well: while kaeya pretends to be this rogue character (convincing people that he's slacking off, working on his treasure hoarder list that is supposed to be a secret out in the open at a tavern???, pretending to not care about family) if you read between the lines he's actually a good little boy. see example:

not "the same way you threw me out" no. he's more upset about the family legacy. meanwhile diluc, who's supposed to be the foil to kaeya's ""bad boy"" attitude, doesn't give a fuck.

kaeya is a knight that is "destined" to destroy mondstadt, which sums up his "kind and loyal person who pretends to be a bad guy to cope with the trauma and responsibility placed on his shoulders at a young age" personality quite well.

while in contrast diluc is raging and raving about being honest and protecting the city and its people but look at his actions: goes on a 4 year long journey despite people telling him not to, obsessively hunts fatui for personal pleasure (it's "revenge" but is revenge not personal pleasure?), is a wanted vigilante, but he acts like an innocent, well-meaning businessman. let's quote rosaria here:

to conclude this messy and incoherent rant: i think it would only make sense for diluc to be a flirt no matter how subtly. kaeya flirts to keep a facade and diluc keeps a facade to flirt or whatever. and i'd like to make him more batman.

also lets be real "the most eligible bachelor in mondstadt" is not an innocent nickname .

i’m currently going mildly viral on twitter for this tweet:

and it’s really making it clear to me that some of y’all are not playing the same game as i am because like:

my buddy kaeya? my close personal friend kaeya alberich?

like this was a half-baked thought i tweeted out in 30 seconds so you don’t have to agree with the characterization (i’m not even sure i agree with the characterization)

but if y’all are looking me in the eye and telling me that kaeya is unironically a ladies’ man and a player then i’m gonna need you to go back to every single event he’s been in and look at how his shell of facile charm has been ruthlessly and systematically dismantled by the game itself

#is this a reach? perhaps #but what is media literacy if not reading between the lines ....#also another point i think it'd make sense for him to flirt to cope w his loneliness. the man needs a vice #if there's any opportunity to make his character even more morally grey and confusing you Bet im taking it #anyway i wrote this at work instead of working if it doesnt make sense totally blame that and not my brain. LMAO #hope you like my silly headcanon ....... this is so embarrassing

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yezhi1k · 3 days ago

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Flowers & Cherries chp.3 (Jinx x Reader)

(Had to re-upload, sorry, it got corrupted on my end, not sure if it showed up for anyone else)

Notes: SMUT ALERT!!! Yes, we finally got here. Sorry for taking so long, work and uni are currently making my life a little hectic. Apologies in advance for any typos, I am sure there are plenty, but I am very very very bad at proofreading. Also, pretty please read the CWs carefully! (also also, as usual, all my stuff is on AO3, under MisanthropicMoose).

Summary: After your whole gang is wiped out, you wake up at Jinx's place unharmed. You are angry at her, and she decided to make it up to you in a very special way.

CW: nsfw, dubious consent, edging, overstimulation, sex toys, descriptions of syringes/injections, very brief mentions of addiction/murder/suicide. Minors DNI!!!

A warm, heavy darkness enveloped you. It was almost humid; waves of it cascaded down your arms and legs, pressurized your head. You wondered whether you’ve died. While you were still alive, you never gave much thought to the afterlife. You liked to keep things simple: you live, then you die, and then nothing. Whether you’re good, whether you’re bad, whether you save starving orphans or set churches on fire. Once you’re dead, you’re dead. It was easier that way, you didn’t feel like you had to keep track of your sins. When your parents were still alive, they took you to a small, dingy church further topside sometimes, whenever your mother’s nervousness set in. You didn’t care much for it then. None of the very few kids there did. Did you care for it now? If you had the opportunity, would you atone for anything? There was plenty to atone for, of course. But would it make a difference?

You brought your attention back to the darkness. It pressed onto you from every direction, like a cocoon. Your thoughts drifted to reincarnation. Many years ago, you found yourself undercover at a brothel. You were looking for someone who frequented it. Who was it? Didn’t matter now.

You didn’t want to look suspicious, so you hired a girl. You couldn’t remember much of her now, except that she was tall and smelled of caramel.

“So,” you remembered her voice. Velvety, almost baritone, “What are you looking for tonight?”

You remembered the tips of your ears tingling slightly at the question. You knew you couldn’t sleep with her, you were on the job and had to stay focused. But even if you could… You remembered being attracted to her, very much so. Her skin looked silky smooth and reflected, in an almost iridescent way, the light of the candles. You remembered your eyes lingering on her long fingers, wrapped around the stem of a wine glass. Her big eyes, glistening at you from underneath fluffy eyelashes. You remembered shifting on the plush sofa, changing the cross of your legs. You remembered wanting her, in a way you knew people wanted one another. And you also remembered a weird, invisible, all-powerful force holding you in place, not letting you act on those desires. It wasn’t a sense of responsibility or duty, you knew that much. Was it guilt? Was it that, out of all the immoral and low shit you have done up to that point, that was something you felt like you had to atone for?

You didn’t have answers for any of those questions then. So, you said you just wanted to talk. She didn’t seem surprised. You were sure that that wasn’t the weirdest request she has ever gotten. Probably not even the weirdest thing she had to do that night. Easy money, if you will.

You let her do most of the talking. Partially because you were still on the lookout for your client, partially because you didn’t know what to talk about. She sunk into the sofa, swirling and delicately sipping her wine. She told you about her life: she was from a middle-class family, one of those that lived closer to the surface, but still technically in the undercity. She attended an upside boarding school for gifted girls, on a scholarship. Her first kiss was with a classmate, in a broom closet, she told you, leaning in closer and lowering her voice slightly, as if she was revealing a terrible secret. Much later, in her final year of school, she tried a boy. Didn’t like it very much, she confessed, scrunching her nose playfully. You let out an understanding scoff. You have never slept with a man, but having to seduce drunk bastards on a semi-regular basis was unpleasant enough.

She was a good student, excelling particularly in botany. She loved plants, flowers, trees, all of the things that were so scarce in the undercity. Secretly, she dreamt of bringing the lush greenery to the fissures, somehow figuring out a way to make it flourish in the toxic air. It would greatly improve air quality, she said. People would be healthier, and happier, surrounded by plants.

But then, a tragedy, too common in the undercity, struck. Her father became addicted to shimmer. It was a rapid descent. To that day, she did not know how he even came into contact with it, or what compelled him to take it. But he did. And he lost all semblance of humanity. It’s like he was replaced, she said somberly. Her father died, and in his place was a monster. She begged her mother to leave him, to run away, to retreat deeper into the undercity, if that’s what it took. But she stuck by him. She loved him. And during one of his shimmer-induced episodes, he killed her. And then, in a moment of clarity, during which he understood what he had done, he jumped off the bridge between the upper and under cities. Her mother was buried at a local cemetery, and his body was never found.

She left school the day she found out. Everything seemed pointless then. Flowers wouldn’t save the undercity, she realized.

But she had to live. And after several unsuccessful attempts at finding a job, she found herself on the steps of the brothel. At the time, she thought it would be a quick, temporary gig. Just to gather some money to get her life on track. But then she never left. Surprisingly, in this place, looked down on by the rest of the world, she finally felt accepted. At peace, even. Upside, she constantly had to pretend to be better off than she was. She had to act as though she went on vacations during school breaks, as opposed to retreating to the undercity, that her birthdays were spent at opulent restaurants and not in dingy bars, where the air was thick with smoke and gaseous remnants of shimmer. But here, surrounded by other people down on their luck, she felt as though she could breathe freely. Topside air, she said, despite all their plants and flowers, hurt her lungs.

The night went on, the guy you were looking for was nowhere to be seen. You gave her a brief rundown of your life, entirely made up, of course. Then your conversation turned theological.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked.

You furrowed your brow.

“I… am not sure what that means.”

She giggled and put her petal-soft hand on your shoulder, stroking it lightly.

“Well, some people believe that when you die, you are reborn, as someone or something different. Do you believe that?”

You thought about it for a moment. She continued rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder, and waves of warmth rushed through your body.

“I don’t know,” you finally answered, “I like to think that once we die, that’s it. Then there is nothing.”

“That’s a depressing way to think.”

“Works for me,” you shrugged, “I hope that the things I’ve done won’t catch up to me.”

She tilted her head to the side, a lock of hair falling onto her forehead.

“You don’t seem like the type of person to do bad things.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. In a sudden spur of confidence, you reached out and brushed the hair out of her face.

“I do. I promise.”

Were you being reborn now? The cocoon of darkness enveloping you, was it a new womb? Were you about to see the light of the outside world for the first time again?

Your pondering was interrupted by something cold and wet brushing your forehead. A chill ripped through you, starting from your head and moving down to your toes at lightning speed. And then your face was brushed again. And again. And again.

Suddenly, everything went white. Your eyes, now open, rotated in their sockets wildly, trying to find anything at all to focus on. You were blinking furiously, trying to shed the milky film from the surface of your eyeballs. You tried to move, but something was holding your arms and legs down. All you could do was blink and shake your head.

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s okay, I’m here, don’t thrash.” You heard a familiar voice. Jinx. It was Jinx.

Your surroundings came into view slowly. The first thing you saw was the blinding light of a lamp above you. You squinted your eyes instinctively and looked away. With every passing second, other things appeared before you. Walls, painted purple, a desk leaning against one of those walls. You could make out tiny nuts and bolts and other parts scattered across its surface. A wooden door.

You turned your head to the side and came face to face with Jinx. Her eyes were big, almost concerned, but mostly just curious. Being this close, you were able to make out the faintest whisper of freckles on her face. The microscopic cracks on her lips.

She held a moist rag in her hand. When you stopped thrashing around, she smiled down at you and brought the rag to your face. The same sensation as before. That’s what it was.

Your mind raced. You were now able to make out that you were laying on something soft and springy. A bed? A bed! It was a bed! Not your bed though, your one wasn’t quite this big. Then who’s? Jinx’s?

“Jinx?” your voice came out strained and raspy. She raised an eyebrow at you inquisitively.

“Where am I?”

“At my place.”

You scrunched your forehead. An all too familiar, sharp pain was resurfacing.

“Why am I at your place?”

Jinx gently tilted your chin so your eyes would meet hers again.

“Because I blew your gang up, and you got hurt.”

A strained groan ripped out of your throat. Memories of the latest events refilled your mind. You were at the courtyard, and then something in the bushes caught your attention, and then… You started drawing a blank, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Why?” was all you could utter. You weren’t sure how you felt. You were angry, yes. Incredibly angry. Furious, even. But not because Smeech and his goons were gone. It was something else, something less personal. It was the same feeling as the one you got when a neighbor’s toddler toppled over the pile of rocks you spent all morning building as a child. Scorching pain rose from the back of your head to your forehead.

You suddenly felt a warm breath on your cheek. You cracked your eyes open and saw that Jinx’s face was mere inches away from yours. Her eyes looked even bigger now, sadder.

“Please don’t be angry at me,” she whispered. For a moment, both of you were silent. You tried to collect your thoughts.

“Jinx,” you said, as sternly as your dry tongue could manage, “What happened?”

Jinx huffed and left your field of vision for a moment. You tried to sit up, but something was holding your arms and legs in place. You looked up at your hands and saw that they were bound to the bedpost with something resembling a thick ribbon. The same was true for your ankles.

“Jinx?” you called out. Suddenly, a weight came down on you. Before you could process anything, Jinx’s petite figure was sitting on your stomach, thighs on either side of your body. Your breath caught in your chest; she was so close now. Sweet-smelling heat radiated off her body. Her hands were encasing your head, her long blue bangs hanging down on you, tickling your nose.

“Silco gave the order, obviously,” she started. Her chest brushed against yours, and you suddenly felt the hardness of her nipples under her shirt, “I begged him to keep you alive, and he agreed. Tried to get you on our team. But you had to be stubborn,” she whispered the last sentence, dipping her head down to your ear. You instinctively tried to squeeze your thighs together, but the bindings on your ankles kept you in place. You did your best to steady your breathing.

“Why did he decide to kill them? What did they do?”

Jinx lifted her head back up and looked you in the eyes. You could have sworn you noticed a glint of magenta in her blue eyes. But that couldn’t have been true.

“They were stealing shimmer.”

The words took a few seconds to register in your mind. Smeech and his goons were… stealing? From Silco? That was beyond ridiculous, even for someone as dumb as Smeech.

“That’s impossible,” you shook your head, “I didn’t know anything about it. They wouldn’t do something like that.”

“And yet, they did. They didn’t tell you because they would have to give you a bigger cut.”

You blinked up at her. No way. No fucking way.

“They started almost as soon as we hired them. It was small at first, Silco even thought for a bit that his books weren’t adding up because he’s getting old. But then they got bolder. Some even started meddling with the Firelights. Your lot would let them steal freely, and in return they got a portion of the stock,” Jinx’s eyes narrowed, “We didn’t want a big fuss, so we decided to let y’all do your thing, and figure out who exactly was participating so they could be dealt with… privately. But it turned out almost everyone was in on it. The only dummies left out were you, and that one kid you took in several months ago.”

She suddenly grinned widely at you.

“He agreed to switch immediately. Smart kid. But you were just begging to skip right on into the grave.”

Your head was killing now, and you shut your eyes again.

“Does it hurt?” you felt Jinx’s lips against your ear. All you could do was nod. This wasn’t real. None of this could be real.

She lifted off you, and you heard her footsteps get further away. They then got closer again. You cracked your eyelids open.

She was standing over you with a syringe of purple liquid in hand, looking over you curiously. Your body thrashed. It was shimmer again. Jinx cupped your cheek in the palm of her hand, grazing your cheek lightly with the long nail of her thumb.

“Shh… It’s okay. It’s for the pain.”

Before you could answer, you felt a cold needle press against the side of your neck. A small, pathetic yelp escaped your throat as it broke the skin, and you felt the liquid enter your vein. It tingled, sent a shiver down your spine. A sigh slipped past your lips as the pain started melting away. It was as though a fire was put out on the inside of your head. Your eyelids fluttered down slightly.

But then, a new sensation started taking over. It was small at first, a little warmth at the pit of your stomach. You didn’t even notice it at first. But the warmth grew; it spread from the pit of your stomach down between your legs. You felt something resembling a dull ache, not painful per say, but as though every nerve was firing off at your core. Your thighs tried in vain to squeeze together again, your breath exhilarated. You felt a bead of sweat start forming near your brow.

“Jinx… this stuff feels weird,” your voice came out in a breathy whisper, unfamiliar even to you, “Doesn’t feel the same.”

The blue-haired girl leant over you, studying your squirming form. Her palm found the top of your head, and she stroked you gently.

“That’s because it’s not the same,” she cooed, tilting your chin to meet her gaze again, “Silco’s stuff is nice. Expensive. He keeps it locked away most of the time. I could break into his cabinet, of course, but I’ve got my hands on this stuff. Almost the same, but it has… a side effect. So, it’s considered a failed strand. I wouldn’t say so though.”

You tried your best to keep your cool as strange feelings roared through your body.

“What’s the side effect?”

Jinx laughed, then climbed on top of you again, painfully slowly. Her pelvis came down on yours, and you couldn’t feel but let out a small moan. You prayed she didn’t notice.

Jinx was sitting on top you now, arms crossed, looking down at you with her head tilted. Your eyes drifted from her face down to the delicate curve of her neck, down her chest and toned waist, before landing on the blue cloud tattoo on her hip. Her hips had the slightest bit of fat on them, and they looked so supple. Grabbable. Bitable, even. What the fuck are you thinking about?

“I think you know,” saying that, Jinx bucked her hips slightly, generating the smallest bit of friction between your bodies. Your head fell back onto the pillow, and you had to bite your lip to stifle whatever sound was about to come out. The fire from your head migrated to your body now.

You desperately tried to stay in control of the situation.

“Alright, very funny. Untie me now,” you hissed through gritted teeth, trying to seem composed. By all accounts, you were not doing very well.

Jinx lifted an eyebrow at you.

“Are you angry?” she asked. You couldn’t help but let a mean laugh rip out of you.

“Yeah? Obviously? You think you get to blow up my entire gang, erase years of my hard work, and that I won’t be angry at you?”

You saw Jinx’s expression fall ever so slightly, before restoring back to the smug look she had on before. She reached out her hand and stroked the side of your neck. Her nails scraped your skin softly. You tried your hardest not to react as she traced a sensitive spot near the base of your jaw.

“I figured you’d be angry,” she muttered, bringing her mouth to the shell of your ear. You yelped as she nipped the very corner with her teeth, “I will make it up to you, though.”

You turned your head and looked up at her.

“And how are you planning on doing that, exactly?” you tried to sound angry, but to your horror your voice came out soft, whiny, needy. Jinx’s eyes had a dangerous glint to them.

“Well,” she started, grinding down on your crotch slowly, watching your face keenly for any shadow of a reaction, “I see the way you look at me. The way you looked at me from the very beginning,” her mouth found your ear again, “you want to fuck me, don’t deny it. I see the way you stare at my tits when you think I’m not looking.”

You tried to interrupt her to defend yourself, but she pressed her finger to your lips.

“I like you too,” you felt her fingers get tangled in your hair and pull slightly. Your chin was tilted upwards now, neck fully exposed, “I was going to fuck you myself, at first. But I figured, you’re older, you’re so serious all the time. You would probably want to make the first move. So, I waited,” her knee suddenly moved in between your legs, pressing up to you, pushing your thighs apart, “I waited, and I waited, and I waited, but you wouldn’t do a thing. Just kept eye-fucking me, and that’s it. You know how frustrating that is, hm?”

Jinx’s knee bobbed lightly, sending jolts of electricity through your core. You clamped your teeth shut, trying not to embarrass yourself. Jinx sat up and looked down at you again. Her chest was heaving a little, and a faint blush spread through her cheeks.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” she hummed, still teasing you with her knee. You felt a wetness start forming, and you feared she would make a mess of her pant leg, “Anything you want. What do you like, hm? Do you like to be rough? You like to pull hair? Want to call me names? Or are you more of a receiver?”

Your brain felt like it was melting. You didn’t know what to say, your lack of experience more evident than ever. Jinx’s face suddenly came down to your neck, and you felt her hot, wet tongue slide from the base of your neck up to the corner of your jaw. You couldn’t hold back anymore; a high pitched, lewd sound filled the air. You felt Jinx snicker against your neck.

“So eager,” she said, looking deeply into your eyes, “So, tell me. What do you want?”

There was no lying your way out of this one. You squeezed your eyes shut out of pure humiliation.

“I… I don’t know.”

Jinx’s nails, still tangled in your hair, scratched at your skull gently. Her voice softened, as though she was talking to a startled animal.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sure whatever you are into isn’t that weird.”

You felt tears of frustration and shame form in the corners of your eyes. The shimmer coursing through your veins seemed to heighten more than just your physical sensitivity.

“I don’t know what I’m into! I’ve never done… this before, I don’t know.”

A silence filled the room. You cracked one of your eyes open and peeked and Jinx. You expected her to laugh at you. Maybe look at you in disgust, or with pity.

But, as your eyes met hers, you saw something entirely different, and your stomach churned. Her jaw tightened, and there was no mistaking it now: the hue of her eyes shifted from ocean-blue to magenta. The grip on your hair tightened, and you let out a pained cry. She looked over you with a newfound curiosity. There was something borderline predatory in her eyes.

“No way,” she said finally, loosening her grip. Her thumb came down onto your cheek and she stroked it, head tilted, studying you.

You stayed silent. You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Jinx planted her hands either side of your head.

“You haven’t been deflowered? Haven’t had your cherry popped?” her voice had a mocking tinge to it. You couldn’t keep looking her in the eyes, and you turned your head to look at the wall. Jinx grabbed your cheeks and turned your face back to her roughly.

“Tell me,” her thumb was grazing your bottom lip now, “Did I get that right?”

All you could do was nod. A devious grin spread across Jinx’s face, and she suddenly pushed her thumb into your mouth. You were too caught off guard to fight her, and her thumb planted onto your tongue. She forced your mouth open and watched you for a moment, smearing saliva all around your mouth and on your bottom lip. You knew you looked pathetic, tied up, Jinx’s thumb in your mouth, and all you could do was keep staring up at her.

“How did you even manage that, huh? You’re so cute, I was sure someone has gotten to you by now,” Jinx whispered. You decided you were going to make a last-ditch attempt to escape. The embarrassment was too much.

“Jinx, untie me, please,” your words were muffled with your mouth obstructed.

A cackle, an almost maniacal laugh, came out from somewhere deep within Jinx, and she shoved her thumb deeper down your throat, almost making you gag.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding. No way I’m doing that now,” thumb still in your mouth, she planted soft kisses up your neck and nipped your earlobe, “I’ve never gotten to break in a virgin before, no way I’m letting you go.”

Her lips found the sensitive spot on you neck and planted onto it tightly. You felt her kiss and lick at the spot, coaxing whines and mewls out you didn’t know you were capable producing.

“After all,” she muttered in between kisses, “you wouldn’t want the entire Zaun to find out that Smeech’s right hand, the living nightmare of dozens of gangsters, is a little pathetic virgin,” she suddenly bit down on the soft flesh.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. There was nothing you could do, really. Your limbs were still immobilized, and Jinx was seated firmly on top of you, pressing your pelvis and torso into the bed. And on top of it all, you felt so incredibly warm. Scorching. Your blood became infused with burning humiliation and desire. With one hand still in your hair, Jinx took her fingers out of your mouth and glided them down your neck and chest, leaving a trail of purple shimmering saliva. She grabbed a handful of your breast and squeezed lightly. You didn’t typically wear a bra, being happy with just an undershirt, and you felt her sharp nail graze against your nipple through the fabric. A spark of pleasure ran up your nerves as you tried to stifle another moan. You weren’t sure why you felt so embarrassed; deep down, this is what you wanted since the moment you met Jinx. So, now that she was feeling you up and you were entirely at her mercy, why did you feel such deep seeded shame?

Jinx was playing with your nipple through your shirt now, pinching and tugging lightly, occasionally running the sharp nail of her index finger over the hardening bud. The pressure between your legs built up mercilessly, and you desperately wanted to feel more, for her to do more. You bucked your hips instinctively, trying to generate more friction between your groin and Jinx’s knee. She snickered and tugged harder at your hair, forcing you to look her in the eyes again.

“Are you that desperate already? I’ve barely touched you, and you are already humping my knee,” she lowered her hand from your breast, fiddling with the hem of your shirt now, “I mean, I knew virgins are easy, but you are being outright slutty.”

Without a warning, she latched onto the hem of your shirt and pulled in up over your breasts. Your nipples fully hardened in the cold air. You saw Jinx’s eyes travel down, and she looked over your body with curiosity. You felt as though your face couldn’t get any warmer, and yet with every passing second more blood seemed to rush to your cheeks.

“How pretty,” she muttered, running the pad of her thumb over your nipple. You couldn’t hold in your moan, and it came out in a hoarse squeal. Jinx continued to play with your chest, occasionally moving from one breast to the other. Your thighs squeezed tighter around her as she rolled one of your nipples between her fingers.

She looked you in the eyes as her mouth lowered towards your chest. She planted a soft kiss onto your collar bone, then started slowly moving down. Her lips suddenly latched onto the flesh of one of your breasts, forming a seal. She sucked harshly, coaxing soft yelps out of you as she sucked in more air. When Jinx pulled away, a scarlet mouth-shaped mark was left on your breast, and she admired her work for a second before taking your hard nipple in her mouth. It felt warm and wet as she swirled her tongue around the bud, coating it in a thick layer of saliva. You couldn’t help but throw back your head, not holding back your voice now. It reverberated through the room, bouncing off the walls, and you wondered whether anyone could overhear you. As if reading your thoughts, Jinx nipped your nipple with her teeth, eliciting a louder scream. She then moved over to your other breast, toying with your abandoned nipple with the bad of your thumb as she sucked on the other one. You writhed against her, and she shifted more of her weight onto your torso to keep you in place.

With her lips still wrapped around one of your buds, Jinx glided her hand down to your crotch, palming you through your trousers. The newfound pressure was intoxicating, and you bucked into her hand, almost sobbing from how much you wanted her to touch you. Her fingers circled over your entrance, and you could see now that your wetness soaked all the way through the fabric.

“So fucking wet for me,” Jinx cooed, picking up the pace a little. Her mouth found the lobe of you ear and she took it between her teeth, nibbling softly as her palm continued its attack on your crotch. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Jinx, please…” your voice came out small, higher pitched than normal. She tilted her head, observing your expressions with a mischievous glint in her magenta eyes.

“Please what?” she teased, dragging her nail across where your clit would be under the layers of fabric. You whined and tried to buck into her hand again, but her fingers sunk into the flesh of your hip and she pushed you down forcefully. Her other hand found your hair again and yanked your head back, leaving you panting.

“Please, what?” her voice was stern now. Your lip quivered as you found her eyes with yours.

“Please… touch me more,” you managed in a strained whisper. Jinx’s eyes softened, her grip on your hip getting lighter as she rubbed gentle circles on your hip bone now.

“Well,” she muttered, hooking her index finger under your belt, her eyes never leaving yours, “Since you asked so nicely…”

You felt her work at your belt, sliding it out of its loops and letting it fall off the bed onto the floor with a loud clank. Jinx then pulled at the zipper of your trousers and pushed them down over your hips, leaving them pooled around your knees. You were splayed out under her now, ankles and wrists bound to the bedposts, purple drool dribbling down the side of your mouth, tits exposed and covered in hickeys and saliva, with only a pair of cotton underwear shielding your soaked core from the air of the bedroom. Jinx seemed to enjoy the view, letting go of you and sitting up for a moment, eyes tracing every curve of your defenseless figure.

“What a little slut you are,” she said, softly grazing your clit through your panties, making you shudder in pleasure, “Imagine if your folk ever saw you like this, hm? I bet they wanted to fuck you the whole time you were with them,” she slapped your entrance softly, “And yet, I’m the one that gets to have a taste of you first. Isn’t that funny?”

The pads of her fingers were circling against your barely clothed, dripping pussy now. She started out agonizingly slow, but with every passing second, Jinx picked up her speed, letting louder and lewder sounds spill out of you. You were writhing against her hand wildly, chasing your high; you felt a knot start forming in the pit of your stomach, as if something inside you was going to burst. You’ve never felt this way before, but instinctually you knew that that burst would feel delicious. As you got closer, Jinx grabbed your cheeks with your free hand and forced you to look at her. She was taking in your expression, drinking up your desperation and want. Her thumb made it into your mouth again, smearing your spit all over your bottom lip.

“You wanna cum already?” she asked, the speed of her hand relentless against your crotch. You couldn’t produce any coherent words, resorting to simply nodding whilst letting out an unintelligible groan. Jinx’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she leaned in closer to your face. You felt the sweet hotness of her breath against your mouth, and you tried to lean forward to kiss her, but she yanked your hair, forcing your head to fall back onto the pillow. As you inched closer to your release you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation. You were so close, so painfully close, just a couple more seconds and you would–

Jinx’s fingers left your aching pussy in the last second. You let out a frustrated whine, bucking helplessly into the air, trying to generate any kind of friction, anything to bring you over the edge. You squirmed in frustration, the ribbon against your wrists and ankles digging deeper into your skin.

Your pleading eyes found Jinx’s. She was still holding you by the hair, studying your face, her other hand resting on your lower stomach now. She had a pleased smirk on her face, by all accounts she seemed to enjoy torturing you. Her facial expression quickly shifted into a mockingly sympathetic one.

“Ow, poor baby… What’s wrong?” her fingers traced your abdomen lazily as an aching want raged on between your legs, “Did you really think I was going to let you cum that easily?”

Your head fell back into the pillow in defeat, Below, you felt Jinx hook one of her long nails under the band of your sopped underwear and pull them down slowly, peeling the fabric away from your core and slipping them down to your knees in the same manner as your trousers. You were fully exposed now, and you could feel streams of your wetness cascade down your thighs onto the mattress. Jinx shifted down, planting kisses down your stomach until her mouth was hovering just over your entrance. Her eyes never left yours as she lowered her tongue slowly onto your clit. It was hot and wet, and you couldn’t help but moan as your hips jerked up. Jinx gripped both of your thighs and pulled them apart further, spreading you out in front of her. Slowly, she started lapping away at your clit, sending jolts of pure pleasure up your thighs. As heat started rising from within you again, she picked up the pace, her tongue gliding across your pussy and in between your folds, giving special attention to your throbbing clit. You could see her lips and chin become coated in your juices. Your wetness was also had a purple sheen to it, a common after-effect of taking shimmer. The room was filled with the sounds of your ragged moans.

Jinx’s tongue was dancing wildly over your clit now, and you felt your release rapidly approach again. It felt more intense this time, building upon your unresolved orgasm from before. With every lap Jinx took at your pussy your moans got louder, and you bucked into her mouth. Your mind was liquefying by the second.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. A wave of warmth spread from your groin throughout your body, a pleasant ache spread through your core, rolling through it again and again as screams of pleasure ripped through you. Jinx held down your hips and licked you through your release, every lick sending additional sparks through your body. You chanted her name like a prayer, wishing you could burry your hands in her electric blue hair.

When the fire in your core died down, Jinx pulled away from your pussy. Purple liquid was smeared over her mouth and chin, and she wiped some away with the back of her hand before lunging forward and crushing her mouth against yours. You tasted yourself on her tongue, the shimmer making your juices taste ever so slightly fruity. Her tongue pushed past your lips with ease, and all you could is moan into her mouth as she explored your mouth. Your tongue glided against hers, spit mixing with your wetness in a cacophony of flavors. You were breathless as she pulled away, a string of saliva hanging between your lips. She wiped her mouth and grinned at you.

“How was that?” her voice was cocky. She seemed incredibly proud of herself. You gazed at her through half-lidded eyes.

“So fucking good, Jinx,” you muttered, throwing your head back onto the pillow, trying to catch your breath. A pleasant warmth spread through you. You heard Jinx hop off the bed and move away into the far corner of the room. You closed your eyes, feeling the remnants of your orgasm swarm through your body.

You heard Jinx rummage around her cupboards. Opening your eyes, you saw her approach the bed with a small box. You lifted your head in curiosity, trying to figure out what was in there. She set the box down on the bed, a mischievous grin spreading on her face. You suddenly got scared.

“What’s that?” you asked carefully. You tried to figure it out, but your mind was still swarming from the pleasure, a sweet fog enveloping you.

Jinx glanced over at you and giggled.

“You’ll see.”

You tried to lean forward more as she lifted the lid off the box. In there were laid devices you were unfamiliar with. A couple of them were of a cylindrical shape, some with prominent ridges, others completely smooth. You looked at Jinx in confusion.

She snickered a picked a small, bullet-shaped device out of the box. It was completely smooth, except for a small button at the base. You watched in astonishment as Jinx pressed the button, and the device started buzzing in her hand. She climbed on top of you again, mysterious object in hand.

Without saying a word, she forced your mouth open and shoved the device inside; it vibrated against your teeth. Jinx swirled the object around in your mouth, coating it in your spit. When it was sufficiently lubricated, she pulled it out. Before you could ask what she was doing, she lowered the tip of the device onto your nipple. An intense pleasure shot through you, and you arched your back as the pleasant sensation rolled through your body. The moist, vibrating bullet felt amazing against your skin.

“You like that?” you heard Jinx ask. She was watching your reactions carefully.

“These are all prototypes,” she continues, swirling the toy around each nipple, “You’d be surprised how many people in the Undercity are after a good sex toy.”

The next thing you knew, the device was pressed up to your clit. Your whole body jolted, the sensation was too strong, the pleasure too overpowering. You tried to get away from the vibrator, but Jinx held you firmly in place as she continued her assault on your senses. The pleasure morphed into something resembling a dull pain. You sobbed.

“Jinx, please, wait, it’s too much,” you begged. All you heard was Jinx’s dark chuckle as she pressed the vibrator more firmly against you.

“You can take it,” was all she said. She slid the device up and down your entrance, circling your clit, and your vision went dark with pleasure. Your mouth hung open, your hips bucked and twitched in a directionless manner. Another wave of release washed over you quickly, so intense that it spread through your core in a sharp pain. A wail escaped you as you tried desperately to pull away from the vibrator that was still pressed against you. Jinx was giggling villainously now, evidently enjoying your struggle.

“Good girl, such a good girl… Shh, its okay,” she muttered over you as you cried, desperately thrashing, trying to move away from the toy. After a few more seconds, she finally took it off you. Sparks of pain and pleasure continued shooting through your core and abdomen as you tried to catch your breath. Your clit was red and swollen now, and the mattress underneath you was slick from your juices.

You watched Jinx as she tossed the vibrator onto the mattress and reached back into the box again. The cogs in your brain started turning as you realized what she was up to.

“Please, Jinx, I can’t take any more,” you whined, tears rolling down your face, core burning from overstimulation. Jinx didn’t answer. Instead, she reached backwards and pulled at the knots around your ankles, releasing them. She delicately massaged the red lines left on your flesh, before grabbing you by the hip and turning you over onto your stomach. You were still bound to the bedpost by your wrists, and the bindings around them tightened. You felt Jinx snake a hand underneath your stomach and pull your hips up, pushing your face down into the pillow by the hair. Your ass was now raised in the air, the cool air hitting your pussy, still soaked and throbbing. You couldn’t see what Jinx was doing, but you heard her rummage around in her box, presumably looking for a new toy. As she took her pick, her finger grazed the slit of your entrance. You heard her pick something out of the pile and spit on it. Your insides clenched in horrified anticipation; you were overstimulated beyond belief.

A choked cry escaped your throat as you felt something press up to you, teasing your entrance. It felt bulbous and wet from Jinx’s spit. You turned your head to the side and tried to find Jinx. You saw her, sitting next to you, holding up your hips in the air with one hand and pressing a phallic, ribbed object up to your dripping pussy. It was ribbed, with a large head. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to brace yourself.

“You think you can take it for me, hm?” you heard Jinx whisper in your ear, knowing damn well that it didn’t matter what you answered.

You felt the head of the dildo move between the lips, pushing into you. You whimpered and felt Jinx plant a gentle kiss onto your temple.

“Shh, you are doing so well for me. Don’t be scared.”

The toy slowly stretched you as Jinx pushed it further. With every new inch that entered you, you let out a pained moan, the ribbing on the base stretching you even further. The pillow was wet from tears now. Finally, you felt the base of the toy hit your ass as all of it was now planted inside of you, filling every inch. Jinx stopped moving it, letting you adjust to the size of the toy, your walls desperately trying to accommodate it. She planted soft kisses on your shoulder as you got used to the feeling.

After a few minutes, you felt Jinx start to slowly pull the dildo out of you. As each ridge moved through your walls, a half-pleasurable, half-painful sensation shot through you. You bit your lip as you felt the toy slide back in. Jinx was gently thrusting it in and out of you now, taking care not to go too quickly. The pain morphed into pleasure, and as small moans started spilling out of you, she picked up the pace. Her toy was hitting deep inside you now, the ridges massaging you from the inside. The speed only got faster, and you felt a string of drool fall from your mouth onto the pillow, your eyes rolled back. Your stomach felt tight, it was way too much, every thrust coaxed an animalistic scream out of you. Suddenly you heard a familiar click, and the dildo started vibrating. The combination of vibration and thrusts made you bite down on the pillow as hard as you could, your thighs spasmed and struggled to keep your hips up in the air.

“Does it feel that good, hm? You can’t even keep yourself up?” Jinx’s breath brushed your ear as she pounded away mercilessly at you. Your eyes rolled back into your skull. Another release was on its way, and you could already tell it would be more intense than you could ever imagine. Jinx’s finger snaked underneath you and circled your clit vigorously. Your screams couldn’t get any louder.

“Come on, cum for me. Cum for me, you fucking slut,” she hissed in your ear, “You like to be fucked so much, huh? You like when I fuck you? If anyone else tries to touch you, you will only think of me; my tongue, my fingers, my toys, me,” she took her hand away from your clit for a second to pull your hair, lifting your head slightly. Her mouth pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Tell me. Tell me you are mine. Tell me you are my little whore.”

You yelped as the grip on your hair got tighter.

“I’m yours, Jinx, I’m only yours. I’m your whore,” you whined, trying to choke down your sobs.

Satisfied, Jinx let go of your hair and started circling your clit again. You screamed, and a wave of pain and pleasure washed over you as she sent you over the edge. Your walls clenched around the toy, and you pressed your thighs together tightly as your hips shook uncontrollably. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed onto the bed, still twitching as Jinx pulled out of you.

As you laid on your stomach, breathless, small sequels still passing your lips, Jinx turned you onto your back again and climbed on top of you. She brought the head of your toy to your mouth and you, delirious, wrapped your lips around it, taking it deeply into your throat, cleaning off your juices. Jinx’s eyes were barely visible from underneath her eyelashes, but you could see a dangerous magenta glow emanate from them as she watched you lick the mess off the dildo. She pulled it out of your mouth with a loud pop and tossed it to the side. She quickly untied your wrists, planting kisses onto the raw skin, and plopped onto the mattress next to you. She pulled the covers over the both of you, and her arms snaked around your waist as she pressed her small body up to you from behind. She felt delicate and warm, it was hard to believe that mere moments ago she was ferociously fucking you, humiliating you, calling you names. Your eyes started fluttering shut as you felt her press small, quick kisses onto the nape of your neck. You tried to turn around to face her, but she held you in place.

“But, what about you?” you asked. You knew damn well you were in no position to return the favor in that moment, but that didn’t stop the guilt from bubbling up. You felt her chest rumble against your back as she giggled and brushed a lock of hair out of your face.

“Don’t worry about it for now. We will have plenty of time for that later.”

Tag list:

@kiaralee25

@fvckingeetar

#arcane #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #smut #wlw smut

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iamthezip · 1 day ago

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Who is Edwin without Charles

So I got this NGL and it took me a while to answer. I mean, I had the answer almost immediately, but it quickly became a 3000 word ramble and sparked a few side rambles as well. So I tried to pare it down a bit. It kinda worked. So, here goes...

Fair warning, lots of rambling ahead but I tried!

Who is Edwin without Charles. I have TOO many thoughts about this. Firstly, hypotheticals are hard, especially with people, because there are too many variables! And in the case of Edwin, limited data. We see Edwin in the show after 30+ years of being with Charles. We have his flashback with limited shots showing him being different and ostracized by his peers then sacrificed. We know he spent 70 years in Hell. But this flashback doesn't tell us much about him as a person, just more about his peers response and treatment of him. So his actions in the attic scene and Edwin's own descriptions of himself are what we mostly have to go off of for who he is prior to spending 30+ years with Charles.

A few things we know and can assume about Edwin. Edwin is intelligent, studious, and values information and logic. Edwin is fairly straightforward. Edwin is kind (he may not be nice, but he is kind! I'll die on that hill like Charles died in that attic). He believes he is not good with people. He may have believed at some point that he deserved Hell. He does display some ptsd related symptoms and heightened fear response to certain triggers related to Hell. I mean, 30+ years later, he's still very hypervigilant about the potential of Hell finding him. Also, he has a drive and purpose with his detective work.

As for Charles, there are four things I think Charles provides Edwin that significantly impact the Edwin we see 30+ years down the road - I don't think these four things are the only things, but they're what I'm considering heavily in this portion of my analysis. Charles provides acceptance without change (accepting who Edwin is as he is and not expecting or forcing change or masking), a connection to others and the world, SAFETY (in words and actions, Charles not only claims he'll protect Edwin but repeatedly does), and absolution (this will take some explanation, later in the analysis). I think it might be argued that Charles helps Edwin find purpose in detective work, but I think this would always happen, just maybe not as quickly or easily. Reading detective stories to Charles may have made it fresh in Edwin's mind, but I think Edwin would always seek out some self-appointed task or purpose. Plus, he does reveal an ulterior motive of building a case for leniency, so the detective work purpose would eventually come about even without Charles. But, lets remove Charles from the equation.

First, Edwin will always be kind. 70+ years in Hell after being sacrificed by his peers, he still takes the time to comfort and care for an injured and dying boy, putting himself at risk at the same time. He knew Death would come when Charles passed, he explained the light to Charles, but he waits. He waits until Charles passes and even until the light appears. Edwin maintains his inherent kindness through 70+ years of the worst place and the worst people. So I think Edwin will still be kind.

Second, I disagree that Edwin is "bad with people" but he believes he is. This is ingrained from the treatment of his peers (and possibly family) and further exacerbated by being out of touch with the times, being displaced a 100 years out of time. He asks if the women in Niko's family are prone to bouts of hysteria. This would've been common medical thinking in his time. A couple episodes later, he stops himself from using the word hysteria. This implies part of his "bad with people" is lack of knowledge. That all being said, Charles is largely his source of updated information and also a connection to others, smoothing out things when Edwin says something wrong and being a major support for Edwin being himself. Without Charles as a point of connection, Edwin may never learn he isn't "bad with people" and would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. He might withdraw more and, with no one to help talk to clients and smooth out any bumps and missteps, any error would be amplified. So Edwin becomes what he believes he is, "bad with people", withdrawn, and isolated more. He already reduces a lot of interactions to their necessary functions and would just do this to more extreme.

Third, Edwin's PTSD symptoms would probably be worse including increased hypervigilance, heightened flight-freeze response, and anxiety or possible even panic attacks. All of these would be internalized as well as something being wrong with him. Charles offers safety and acceptance of Edwin - he accepts Edwin's reactions without faulting him, ridiculing him, or shaming him. He accepts Edwin sharing as much about Hell as he does (we don't know the extent and clearly he left out details, but he did tell Charles "loads of stories about Hell"). Talking through traumatic experiences and emotions is a huge part of overcoming them and moving past them. Charles offers that to Edwin. Charles also offers safety - stepping between Edwin and a threat at every opportunity, protecting Edwin from physical pain but also coming to his defense in other ways - protecting him from the concept of Hell, the risk of going back, the idea he even belongs there. Charles shows again and again that he'll protect Edwin. Edwin feels safe! And we see this with his clothes. There are only four times we see Edwin without his armor. Twice are unwilling - pain and fear in Hell and on Esther's table. Twice are willing - Ep 6 in his sweater when he plans to confess to Charles and Ep 1 in the office when its just the two of them. Edwin feels safe with Charles and takes his armor off, even when he's about to do the very frightening thing of confessing his feelings. He feels safe. But if Edwin doesn't have that acceptance and safety, I imagine he doesn't progress as much in relation to his trauma. His PTSD symptoms may worsen or at least he stays in survival mode for so much longer.

Which brings me to point four - survival mode and Edwin finding his purpose - detective work. Again, still think he'd be a detective. I just think it'd be delayed. I think Edwin would spend a lot more time in initial survival more than we can assume he did in the show. Without a sense of safety and acceptance offered by Charles, I think Edwin spends longer in survival mode, a constant state of flight. How long would he stay in survival mode, flight mode for? Would he ever feel safe or would it worsen? You do not run from trauma. You do not hide from fear. Without something to help him feel safe, would Edwin have been as trapped in his own fear and trauma as he had been previously trapped in Hell? Charles is not the only reason Edwin moves out of flight/survival mode. Edwin has to do that work himself, and maybe 30 years later he does or has. But Charles would offer a huge support in this that now isn't there.

Finally, Edwin doesn't deserve to be in Hell, but maybe he believed he did. Maybe, without Charles, he still does. Edwin, when meeting Simon again, says "when you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell." Edwin spent the season learning about himself, exploring parts of himself he didn't before. I don't think these word were always something he believed, nor was that self-punishment something he could let go of. Every time Charles or Edwin talk about Edwin being in Hell (except when Edwin is using is as a "you know nothing of suffering" comeback), they point out that it was on a technicality. The only other exception is the attic, when Edwin reveals to Charles who only just escaped Hell. We know he wouldn't have talked about Hell previously in the attic scene, cause of how Charles reacts "chuffed you got out of Hell mate. Sounds hard" and because Edwin hadn't even told Charles he was dying so as not to scare him. A hell-condemned ghost would scare most people. But, in the attic, Edwin also doesn't clarify that he was there on a technicality. 30 years later, that technicality is always mentioned, mostly by Charles. It is very clear that in their 30 years together, Charles has been openly adamant that Edwin doesn't belong in Hell. But Edwin's first time mentioning he'd been in Hell, he doesn't mention the technicality, even as a means to not frighten Charles. Possibly, Edwin wasn't so sure at that point. Possibly, Edwin believed that he belonged there, even if it was only a technicality that got him there. Maybe he believed he was destined for the red light. So, without that defender to not just his soul but his honor and goodness, would Edwin believe he doesn't deserve to be in Hell.

Edwin without Charles is still kind, still finds purpose, but I think struggles with finding safety and with resulting PTSD, self-acceptance, and absolution, even if its just absolution from his own self-perceived sins.

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #dbda #dead boy detective agency #edwin x charles #payneland #save dead boy detectives

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aalinaaaaaa · 3 days ago

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Author Ask Tag

Thank you to @tildeathiwillwrite for the tag <333

—

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

In reference to Obsidian Sapphires (because that’s the wip whose theme and message I’ve fleshed out the most), the core lesson would be to not let ambitions of grandeur, perfection, divinity, etc derail you from the things you have/the people you love, and that even the most seemingly perfect solutions can still cause tragedy. The central identity of Obsidian Sapphires was always in relation to family, personal identity and the Allaitri Chalice was central to Eshani’s goals even from the first ever draft. This draft focuses on the Chalice and its ramifications as a result of it being openly used in society.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

A lot of it is inspired by my perspective, my experiences, etc. It draws heavily on certain aspects of my home country, and also some of my own thoughts too. For instance, Helindians being maestros at non-alcoholic fruity drinks derived from my own wish fulfillment! I don’t drink, I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my life.

It also contains a lot of nature, because it’s a direct contrast to how sterile and corporate the real-world is and I think it really helps make the world very aesthetic, very alluring, somewhere that people would get sucked into and never want to leave. A faerie-style honey trap, if you will.

I'm going to give a specific mention of Morilaste, for it takes a certain amount of its inspiration from Italian art and history. This really became apparent after my visit to Milan and Venice, because I was in awe at the art and architecture. The scale, the details, the artistry, everything. Absolutely stunning. I find that when I'm in or near places like cathedrals and other highly grand, artistic structures, it feels otherworldly. I am awestruck that people made these, that people put funding, time and effort into these grand structures, and we get to benefit from the fruits of their artistry hundreds and thousands of years later. (This is why minimalistic, corporate-hellscape buildings of the modern age break my heart)

And it's that sense of otherworldliness that I want to evoke when designing Morilaste, because I want it to capture the aura of divinity that the court's namesake sought for. I want to use the sheer scale of it to encapsulate just how much of a beautiful, deadly trap it is, and how it contrasts and complements the way ordinary Helindians perceive it from the outside, with basically nothing but rumours and stories to rely on.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?

Alycja’s trying to prove herself to others, reclaim her innocence in the face of those trying to misconstrue her motives. She wants to be loved, she wants to be admired, and her ordeal is coming at a time when she’s at the start of her teenage years, a pivotal time when she is beginning to flesh out her own identity separate from her identity as part of her family. Her arc is one of the most prominent ones in terms of the theme, because her choices threaten a touch of tragedy almost no matter which path she takes. In a sense, it’s a warning to not let others take advantage of you, and also an affirmation that there is a lot of power in one’s own decisions, even in the face of things that are outside of one’s control.

As for Eshani, she’s also trying to prove herself, but more to repair relations with the people she cares about. She knows what she wants, but her arc is about actually confronting the reality of her desires, and her realising that she wasn’t ready yet. This occurs all while balancing the responsibilities of her current place in life, trying to claw her way out without betraying so many people. She carries a lot of guilt, and the message I want to portray through her endeavour is that the past is the past, it cannot be changed, but the next best thing is to do something now, in the present. Dwelling on what could’ve been is what sets her back, and I look forward to the part where her character development fully clicks into place, I think it’s kinda beautiful (and it fits with the theme and her goals :DDD)

How many chapters is your story going to have?

I’ve an estimate of 30, but this could easily change.

Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content, planned to go on my blog :D

When did you start writing?

Wow, it’s been ten, going on eleven years at this stage!

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Don’t give up on your ideas! And especially don’t delete them. Stash them away, let them ferment, make sure they’re written down somewhere (and not just on a computer, physical notes are important too). You’ll never know when your ideas may germinate and go full circle. And even if they don’t go anywhere, there’s value even in those ideas just existing. (Side note, people love deleted scenes and snippets!)

I follow so many fantastic, talented, creative writers on here (and I know a decent amount in real life too!), that I would break the tags per post limit so many times over. For the writers that I mention here, consider yourselves tagged for this game, and also here’s an Open Tag for anyone/everyone who wants to answer these <3

@seastarblue @bardic-tales @ominous-faechild @leahnardo-da-veggie @the-ellia-west @vesanal @thebookishkiwi @jev-urisk @cljordan-imperium @ieppiq @angelfevr @gioiaalbanoart @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @honeybewrites @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @corinneglass @rae-butter @oros-ash3s @mundanemoongirl @scarletteflamerald @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @ceph-the-ghost-writer @flock-from-the-void @tryingtimi @outpost51 @mattresses-and-macaroni @limitlesswritingvoid @agirlandherquill @space-writes @winterandwords @finickyfelix @wintherlywords @druidx @avrablake @inkednotebook @lizardperson @ineedaplacetostay @gaslightwestern @satohqbanana @acertainmoshke @sleepyowlwrites @talesofsorrowandofruin @talesfromaurea @the-golden-comet @bi-focal12 @write-with-will @glassstardust22124 <333

#writeblr #writeblr community #tag game #writeblr tag game #author ask tag #obsidian sapphires

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fuji09 · 2 days ago

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Derek Hale isn't as... grown-up as you think.

Part 2 of my "[character] isn't as..." series.

Yes, Derek Hale is an adult. No matter if he is 19, 20, 21, 22, ect... Derek is an adult season 1.

However, just because he is in his early twenties, doesn't make him a grown ass adult (as some like to lovingly call him).

Due to trauma that started when he was 15, Derek does not know how to adult.

At 15 he has to kill the girl he loves, Paige, to end her suffering as she's dying.

Then soon after, Kate Argent manipulates, grooms, uses, abuses, sexually assaults, and rapes Derek, when he is 15/16.

Then Kate burns his home to the ground with his family inside, losing his entire world. Only Laura and Peter (known at the time) survived. Peter was severely burned and catatonic. Cora was assumed dead in the fire but we later find she survived too.

So now Laura and Derek are the only ones left, and they leave their only home to go across the country to run and hide from hunters.

Laura is the alpha with only Derek as pack and they run away and end up hiding in New York for 6 years. Just the two of them for 6 years. We aren't really shown what went on during those 6 year, did they party to forget their troubles? Did they hide themselves away from everybody and became hermits? Did they just start over and live normal human lives?

Derek is constantly running. He can't ever settle, can't have security or feel safe. Always looking over his shoulder, and this starts when he's 15/16.

Now Laura returns to Beacon Hills and leaves Derek behind. She is killed and Derek comes looking for her, all alone. Derek returns to the place where he lost it all to try to find his sister, the only family he had left.

He finds out Laura was killed and ripped in half. That there is now an alpha running wild in Beacon Hills. There's a newly bitten werewolf. There are also hunters. The Argents, who is Kate's family, mock Derek's lack of family left alive. Derek could have easily turned around and left. Go right back to New York and not deal with this mess. But he doesn't leave. He stays.

He tries to help the newly bitten werewolf to the best of his ability. This boy can't even take care of himself but he's still trying to help Scott.

Scott fights him along the way, the alpha keeps attacking, and Derek tries to keep Scott from being killed, found out, or hurt someone.

Derek has no clue what to do. He was never meant to be an alpha. The guy lives in his burnt out husk of house and then lives in an abandoned train station.

He's literally still stuck as that 15 year old kid who lost it all. Derek makes many mistakes, and I think part of it has to do with not knowing how to speak to people. He's very short with everyone, uses facial expressions more than words, and has a hard time understanding others.

He gets frustrated easily and then reacts by getting physical, like shoving Scott in the wall and threatening to kill him if Scott risks everything by playing in the Lacrosse game even though he doesn't have a handle on his shifting and there are hunters everywhere. Turns out to be an empty threat because Scott does play and Derek does not kill him.

Derek still acts like a kid, and I honestly believe what helped him start to grow and actually become an adult was Scott. Derek felt responsible for Scott even though he didn't bite him. Sometimes people become the adult they are supposed to be when they get a pet or have a baby. They get their shit together when someone is dependent on them. Derek took Scott on like a brother.

Their relationship is a lot like brothers. They fight and argue, they protect each other, and they help (begrudgingly) each other. They may threaten to kill each other, but then when someone is actually trying to hurt the other, they protect each other.

Derek starts to grow up when he's around Scott and Stiles. Stiles is kinda like the annoying best friend of his now younger brother, so now he has someone who can dish it and take, but also someone who can help him figure shit out.

Derek doesn't have his shit together, he's a hot mess. He's scared and angry. He definitely has PTSD, it makes sense how he reacts to things. He also deals with severe guilt, anxiety, depression, self harm, and he's basically suicidal.

He does know how to keep his strength in check though. We see Stiles shoved against a wall by several people, Scott, Erica, Theo, and Derek. But Derek is the only one who doesn't shove him too hard. Derek is the only one who doesn't hurt Stiles when he shoved him, and most of the movement we see from Stiles is him jumping from being startled.

He does hit Stiles' head on the steering wheel, which Stiles totally deserved, but it wasn't hard enough to leave a mark or do any damage, it was just enough of a warning to never do that again. He knows how to be more gentle with humans.

Derek is a martyr and I really do believe he's suicidal because he also doesn't care if he dies, even though he partly doesn't want to die. He has zero self worth and has no issue with dying if it helps someone. He literally has to prove his worth to Scott and Stiles that they need him so he is worth saving. He doesn't think he's worth saving unless he's useful to someone and he believes that everyone else thinks that way too.

Derek puts up this rough front to keep people away to protect himself from getting hurt again. He makes himself look unapproachable and mean. But he actually cares a lot. He hides as a defense mechanism.

He was taught pain makes you human and keeps you near your humanity and that it also speeds up the healing process so he ends up hurting several werewolves, Scott, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Jackson. Whether it's to help them heal, teach them to hold on to their humanity, or fight even harder, he teaches these things to the other betas.

Derek is so damaged and stuck. He has trust issues. He may be wealthy, but he doesn't know what to do with it. He doesn't spend it for a long time. For two seasons he's squatting, until finally season 3 he gets a loft.

Derek may be an adult, but he definitely wasn't grown up for seasons 1 and 2.

Derek gets along with the teens because he still has the teen mindset. Which causes him to not always make the best choices.

He is still is an easy target to manipulate and try to control. As we see when Peter reveals he's the alpha. In order to keep Peter away from Stiles and not get himself killed, he has to "join" Peter's side. Which by the look on his face the whole time he hates it and doesn't actually agree with Peter, but he pretends for a while. He has to stand by and watch as his uncle assaults Scott again and gives him the memories of the fire. Which side note, I think Peter did that as a jab at Scott for saying maybe the Argents has a good reason to burn the Hales. Doesn't make it right at all, but it makes sense that he would be angry about that comment.

Derek knows he's hot and he uses that to his advantage when needed, but also because he seems to think that's all he's good for when it comes to girls. He's so awkward with women in the first 2 seasons. He seems unable to actually flirt well until season 3.

He works out way more than he should, punishing his body to hurt himself. He lets himself be shot, tazed, shocked, and beaten because he feels that he deserves it. He truly thinks he's a bad person and he's not. He self sabotages at times because he gets too cocky or scared when something is actually going right.

Derek actually tries though. He keeps getting kicked while he's down. He perseveres and he fucks up. And he also learns from those mistakes and tries to be better.

You can find part 1 of my" [character] isn't as..." series here about Stiles.

Hope y'all enjoyed part 2 about Derek and I'll be back with a part 3. Can y'all guess who it will be about?

#fuji rants #teen wolf #derek hale #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #kate argent #paige krasikeva #peter hale #laura hale #cora hale #vernon boyd #erica reyes #jackson whittemore #theo raeken #isnt as series

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codenamesazanka · 3 days ago

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Shigaraki’s death is still bullshit, but while rereading his final battle with Deku, I remember these tags from @shigarakins on my “bnha is like a bad ghost exorcism story”:

#tbf tomura afo and kurogiri kind of were dead all along considering that they literally died and then were brought back #tomura specifically was brought back by a powerful & negative emotion #quite literally like a ghost who can't move on #no coincidence imo that they died alongside the ofa users - who were more explicitly presented as spirits with unfinished business #wherever that fits into the story of bnha or was done well is a different question ofc #very horikoshi though to be all over the place like that

And he's right.

Tracing the Path of Death [Very image heavy]:

So after Deku held Tenko’s hands and destroyed his hatred, both the Memory Tenko and the Physical Reality(?) Shigaraki starts shattering.

The little boy is crumbling, while Deku is intact. Meanwhile, Shigaraki is also breaking away, as is his mass of hands, as seen from the outside world.

The shattering is indeed caused by Deku punching OFA into Shigaraki, by shooting it into the iron core of hatred and rage.

The iron core of hatred and rage shatters, allowing Deku (and Nana) into Shigaraki’s mind. From there, they have to shatter its innermost center too, and they do:

So by the time Deku “gets through” to Tenko, all of that hatred and rage has been smashed. It's gone. Shigaraki starts eroding away.

OFA destroyed the core, which destroyed the body.

Thus: Iron Lump of Hatred and Rage = Shigaraki himself.

If so, then: Destroying the Iron Lump of Hatred and Rage = Destroying Shigaraki himself

Why does that work?

Well, if we think back all the way to the end of the Jaku Battle, the story has this to say:

Shigaraki died for real back here, but it was his hatred that brought him back. So if the only thing powering him alive like a battery is his hatred, then, yeah, destroying that hatred would kill him.

He literally was a ghost that haunted the world out of hatred and anger (at injustice, for himself and the people he cares about.)

[more analysis below, but also counterpoints]

In his dreamscape of Chapter 270, after he had died after falling out of the tube, I wonder if that was like, his afterlife. The transitional state between life and death. Because his dead family was there.

All the dead Shimuras are there, pulling at him. At the time, everyone thought that it was them preventing him from going to AFO, back to the destructiveness enabled by an evil abuser, and yeah, it's still that. But I think it is also just the dead claiming him. Shigaraki/Tenko is dead and they want him to stay dead, to stay with them. Taking him to the afterlife with them, because he actually still loves his family and was thinking of them and so why not stay?

But Shigaraki rejects that. Rejects death, and walks towards AFO, the man who cultivates his hatred and rage. And that’s when Shigaraki comes back alive. He was dead, but he clung to the power of AFO and his hatred and dream, and so he is brought back to life.

So then, how exactly did Shigaraki Tomura die?

The responsibility for that is sorta on several parties:

There's obviously Ujiko, who induced a “deathlike” state in Shigaraki for the surgery.

So he’s the one who physically put Shigaraki into this risk in the first place - however, he did have full intention and the tools to bring Shigaraki out of it too. Ujiko would have, if not for the Heroes.

On the Heroes’ side, it was Mirko who cracked the tank:

Allowing for Mic to later come to shatter it with his Loud Voice:

Note Ujiko’s dialogue - he still has the opportunity and resources to wake Shigaraki up, as long as the tank is mostly intact. But Mic’s attack fully destroyed the tank, and obliterated that possibility.

But of course, there’s AFO himself, who says that his original scheme was to completely take over Shigaraki.

It's not clear if the surgery had been 100% complete then Shigaraki would've been fully suppressed and gone; or if, as AFO says here, that Shigaraki's impulse and will was so strong that it wouldn't have worked anyway. Still, AFO had essentially planned to kill Shigaraki.

And of course. There’s Shigaraki himself, who agreed to the surgery, to take AFO. If he hadn't, if he had just stopped looking for the Doctor, if he had run away from all this the moment AFO was arrested, then he wouldn't have been on this course to death.

The things that contradict this:

-> The only solid text element we had of "resurrected by his hatred" is mainly Deku's narration in that one panel. Blink and you'll miss it; then never mentioned again, so it doesn't feel at all incorporated into the story. Even the mention of the small electric current - In the chapter itself, we saw the broken electric cord in the water, we saw an electric shock in the art.

…Only for the narration to tell us chapters later that the shock was actually so small X-Less didn't feel it. If the story really wanted to lean into the horror ghost element, it would've not shown that, right? No electricity at all, but maybe a sudden finger twitch, then X-Less realizing Shigaraki was coming back to life. Or, X-less thinking on-panel that that electric current was nothing, just static electricity before getting killed by Shigaraki.

Instead, telling us after the fact diminished it. One flashback panel with Deku narration - that he shouldn't have known! he wasn't there for it! - would barely register for the reader.

-> As much as the story rambles on about The Iron Lump Core Of Hatred And Rage, which, yes, is a big part of Shigaraki and what drives him, there’s literally his love for his League as well. You would think that after the hatred and rage is destroyed, that love would remain - and it does:

“…the Villains need a hero of their own.”

{Countercounterpoint: But apparently that love is not enough to keep Shigaraki in this world? Not enough to keep him intact. Maybe if the League had been closer, maybe if Spinner had taken that one extra step.*

{{{*But once again, there's Spinner’s survivor’s guilt musings. The moment when he could've taken one more step, and he could've saved Shigaraki…

If the narrative is right that Spinner should’ve done something here and it would’ve helped, then Shigaraki wasn't just a dead body on borrowed time. But if Shigaraki was dead from the start at Jaku, and his hatred was all that was keeping him going, then…}}}

But with the hatred gone, Shigaraki crumbles, and this desire to be the League’s hero does not counteract that crumbling.}

-> Whatever one can say about [Shigaraki and his Hatred And Rage being one and the same, and when his Hatred And Rage is gone, he would die], but Shigaraki was still fully whole and intact during his battle with Deku, pre-OFA-Kamikaze-Attack.

By all counts, he’s alive and kicking. The OFA vestiges says explicitly that his wounds are healing. Shigaraki says it will only take a super smash to really kill him. And while he’s still got his iron lump of hatred and rage, he’s also thinking about Spinner. His friend. Who he likes enough to want to see happy (see again previous point).

In carrying out the OFA-Kamikaze-Attack, Deku would break and shatter this guy, effectively killing him. It’s hinted that Deku sort of knew this, when he talks about “Smashing Tenko’s spirit would break the both of them,”

And in this scene again:

Deku knew the risk of putting OFA into a body that might not be ready for it, a body that already had a quirk.

So regardless of whether Shigaraki would've died anyway if his hatred had been erased any other way, Deku’s actions still showed intent of possibly destroying Shigaraki and he willingly carried this out. There was a whole and not-crumbling Shigaraki, who Deku refused to talk to, and whose spirit Deku decided to smash by using a power that he knew would have potentially lethal physical effects on the body because he experienced it himself. Shigaraki may or may not have been a ghost, but Deku definitely contributed to the end of that existence.

-> Also, post-Hatred-Smashed, Shigaraki’s body was actually still intact too.

AFO has taken over, but the body is still here. The flesh might have taken damage, but it was still here, in one piece. Decay and the rage and hatred are no more, but the body was still here, whole.

Maybe it’s only because AFO took over, his vengeful spirit somehow able to keep the body whole and working? Who knows. (But then—if AFO can come back from the vestige/soul/spirit dead like that, after Shigaraki swallowed him up, why couldn't Shigaraki? Shigaraki, whose hatred and rage and driving force in his life has been destroyed, and so maybe his vestige/soul/spirit also dying, but if AFO can do it, so can Shigaraki.)

Never mind that AFO only comes back because of Deku and OFA’s actions; Shigaraki was also still existing, somewhere inside the body:

Still screaming in there - Because we know that Nana held him together after he was shattered.

(Also note that Shigaraki thinks his annihilation was when AFO swallowed him up. Not before, when his hatred was gone; but only once AFO took over.)

So between that “tethered, kept-from-fading” spirit that, even with all its hatred and rage smashed, was still existing, and a body that, while having received damage, was still okay enough to be walking around, there was enough of Shigaraki mentally and physically to keep around. Deku just never bothered to think of a plan that would allow that.

So. Was Shigaraki dead from the start? Yes, but not necessarily. Or perhaps didn't have to stay that way. Was Shigaraki gone the moment his hatred was shattered? Sort of, but he was actually able to stick around still. Could Shigaraki have stayed alive after everything? I want to believe so, at least up until Deku’s final smash.

Was it Deku who killed Shigaraki? I'll allow that there were a lot of factors that lead to Shigaraki’s death, but I think it’s also clear that it’s Deku who dealt the finishing blow and smashed away any possibility of recovery and revival.

#nalslastworkingbraincell #@shigarakins: thank you for your tags!#sorry to put you on the spot #I don't disagree with you either #just musing

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bes-ton · 3 days ago

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SBG found family stuff

Bc I am seeing a lot of ship stuff and not found family for ALL of them… I could just be not looking in the right place or something.

so here is both cannon and head cannon stuff, the HC stuff isn’t marked sorry

I have not read passed chapter 91 please no spoilers in the comments, and there will be spoilers for those who haven’t read that far

Ashlyn

Takes on too much responsibility

has a hard time getting attached but once she is, they are her family even if she doesn’t want the to be

Afraid of losing her family, will not stand for self sacrificial stuff (unless it’s herself)

if anyone in her family unit gets hurt she blames herself

feels bad about being mean /rude to protect family

Logan

He was in (even if he didn’t actually do anything) a mafia family, as such family is very important to him

Trusting until someone hurts his family

will look out for the family in small ways (hc: reminders to eat/drink) (he started the three hour timer to get some rest)

when something only affects him he doesn’t want to bother his family

originally had a hard time understanding his place in his family

Aiden

Family is important to him even if they don’t make him happy. (His parents)

will do anything to keep his family happy/safe

even though he is an adrenaline lover, he understands that those he loves might not be

willing to kill for family. (Chap. 73 he was ready to harm/kill Alex for anyone in the group)

More likely to trust his family more than his own mind

Taylor

Willing to bend / twist her morals (not break them) to keep her family safe

will face her fears in order to help her family

loves having physical reminders of being family (the bracelets)

big on physical contact to show that she cares

fixes things (mechanic) to help with the guilt of not being able to fix her family

Ben

Loves being the biggest bc he can shield/ carry/ hug/ fight for his family easily

hates being the biggest because it makes him intimidating and less likely to be asked for help

willing to help strangers even though his family might be wary

while he has a good sense of self, family is a core aspect of himself

he sometimes feels isolated from others because of being selectively mute(idk if that’s the right term) even though he has many ways of communicating

Tyler

This boy has trauma around family

willing to neglect himself for his family

has a very hard time opening up even to family

is used to being the emotional crutch and not being that for his found family is weird to him

will (has) lose his sense of self if it means the family will be able to function

sorry for typos I wrote this on my phone instead of a computer

#school bus graveyard #ashlyn banner #aiden clark #ben clark #taylor hernandez #tyler hernandez #logan fields #found family #bestonposts

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witheredapple · 8 hours ago

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Lucifer & Cerberus headcanons 🐶🖤

Lucifer didn’t want Cerberus in the first place cuz of the responsibility and being too busy to care for a dog but he ended up loving him and spoiling him a few hours later (yes, he is that type of dad)

Lucifer would buy matching clothes for him, Diavolo, and Cerberus (and take family pictures)

Lucifer celebrates Cerberus’ birthday every year (would even send out invitations - “bring presents”)

One time lucifer forgot to buy his brothers (and Diavolo) Christmas presents but he definitely didn’t forget Cerberus considering the amount of bags filled with dog toys, treats, outfits, and accessories he bought

Cerberus has his own room which Lucifer decorated and built a few things for him

Cerberus got lost/escaped twice and Lucifer panicked so bad. He couldn’t sleep or eat bc he was worried something happened to Cerberus (human au)

The first time Cerberus got lost was because of Diavolo, Lucifer gave him the silent treatment (their first major problem they had in their marriage/whole relationship so far). Second time was Belphie and Satan’s fault, Satan was trying to make it up to Lucifer but Lucifer just gave him the silent treatment and just straight up ignored him like he didn’t exist (human AU)

Diavolo used to call puppy Cerberus ‘cockblocker’ bc of the amount of times Cerberus would interrupt him and Lucifer when they’re about to have sex. It happened too often that Diavolo was starting to think that Cerberus knew what he was doing (human au)

Bonus: This has do with the devilgram story: “The Disappearance of Cerberus” and how I wish it went or expected it to go. I like to imagine that when Cerberus ran away, Lucifer got depressed. Yes, the brothers were TERRIFIED to tell Lucifer which they were right about cuz Lucifer started yelling at them while panicking. The brothers even caught Lucifer staring at a picture of him and Cerberus (when he was shrunk to the size of the dogs (large breed) in the human world). He had bags under his eyes and refused to talk to his brothers. His brothers then realized that they actually fucked up big time. Maybe at some point Lucifer shared some memories he had with Cerberus to MC, having that sad smile on his face as he shares those memories.

Most of these are just associated with one of my human AU stories 😂

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everyone-needs-a-hoopoe · 3 days ago

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palestinians on this website have been driving themselves out of their minds since october 2023, past the point of heads full of grey hairs in their 20s, past the point of multiple breakdowns, getting gazans' private documents to prove they're real people while exposing and driving off the very few actual scammers there have been. multiple organisations like operation olive branch and gazavetters have sprung up to try and alleviate the toll this takes on individuals while still saving as many people as possible. ahmed 90s-ghost had a news article written about his successful escape to egypt!

those lovely organisations you listed cannot help gazans right now because they rely on getting aid trucks over the borders, which are kept closed by israel (which is ordinarily responsible for letting the majority of aid through) and egypt. the only people who can help gazans are other gazans and people like us with our valuable foreign currency.

and we need to help! even with a ceasefire agreement, children are being splattered across gaza's few remaining walls because israel never honours these things. families are still starving and freezing to death. people still have to pay rent for apartments with no walls or sleep in tents made of blankets in the pouring rain. every hospital in gaza is a bombed out shell, while wounds go septic in streets running with sewage and lungs fail in air choked with the dust of a nearly flattened city. did you know that one of the terms of the ceasefire was that hostile aircraft are only allowed in gazan airspace for a maximum of 8-10 hours per day? can you imagine living most of your day with the incessant buzzing of death above you, never certain when it's going to come for you? can you imagine how bad it was before that this is an improvement that was fought tooth and nail for?

the people sending you asks use the little internet connection they can get per day on esim cards, and the little phone charge they can buy off anyone who's managed by some miracle to keep a solar panel intact through over a year of carpet bombing, screaming into the void in a language they don't know to beg for their lives. they don't know how tumblr works. they don't know who can help them. they need ANYONE to care that they're dying.

and you don't care, so yes, you are being callous. you would not be the people who sheltered jewish people during the holocaust. you are not a good person. by reporting these blogs without rock solid evidence - evidence actual scambusters like kyra45, mangocheesecakes and neeches work their asses off to find - you are actively sabotaging the fundraisers of dying people. i am not exaggerating when i say that kills people. it has killed people. it is killing people.

i really can't emphasise this enough, much less sugarcoat it: if you've reported multiple gazan fundraisers it's very likely that you've killed someone.

the least you can do is ignore them if you're not going to donate. if you want to be a little more than an everyday nazi with the radio up loud so you can't hear the screams from the concentration camp next door, you could start paying attention to what's on each blog. many have "vetted by so-and-so" on them, or "reblogged by 90s-ghost" who as i mentioned is a real palestinian who escaped gaza who can tell at a glance if their arabic is google translated like a scammer would do. you can check out these vetting blogs and see what they do and who they promote. maybe you could even toss a reblog their way! maybe even a couple of bucks!

it's never too late to start caring. my pinned post has a few links to vetting organisations. top of my blog (under this post now) is a fundraiser led by my best friend for a baby with a failing heart who needs treatment TODAY or he's going to die. one of my friends is even offering commissions for it if that makes you feel better! you know, if it makes a woman starving herself to try and afford treatment for her infant son less of a dirty beggar.

you can stop being callous if you want to. if you have followers or money you can save someone's life. i really hope you'll try.

I'm starting to feel callous for saying this:

Please, Please, Please, if you are in a situation where you need money or have a go-fund-me started, DO NOT send people asks about it.

Make a post with places to donate instead, spread awareness through reblogs, but don't go into strangers DMs or Ask Boxes soliciting donations. It makes you look like a bot, not a real person needing help.

The big scam one I'm seeing right now is individuals "in Gaza" asking for donations. Before Gaza they said the donations were because of an illness. Bots/scammers are using Gaza to pull at your heartstrings and scam you.

Donate to places you can trust. Like Amnesty International, Free The Children/WE Charities, UN Crisis Relief, Red Cross, etc. Places you know are credible.

I feel callous for deleting/blocking/reporting asks like that but just know it is a scam. It's using your empathy against you. Do not fall for those asks. Donate to causes, raise awareness, but delete and block those asks/dms because they are not real people. it's the same copy/pasted story on each one. Do your research before donating and be safe online.

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pynkhues · 21 hours ago

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That anon is so fucking creepy and vile. It would be creepy and vile and disgusting no matter what, but to threaten to do that to two CHILDREN and someone facing domestic violence is just evil. Can you block specific anons on tumblr, or report them? Some people are just so pathetic.

Thank you to both of you, genuinely, it means a lot in a situation that now feels like - - y'know, Yeah. A Lot. I do think I was probably a bit naive with this fandom (although I do think it's the biggest one I've ever been in, honestly), but I think the mention of my sister's children is genuinely just so disgraceful and it actually is a criminal threat. So I hope that anon and the apparently boundaryless group of people they engage with realise that (although if they don't by now, hopefully they will at the end of this reply).

I was already getting dinner with my mum tonight before all of this happened, but I texted her on the way to tell her that I had Stuff to talk to her about, and y'know, I'm in my thirties, and me and my mum have always been close, amd she vaguely knows I'm 'in some fandoms', but to tell her about all of this bullshit tonight and have her opinions not just as a mother, and a grandmother to those two little boys, but also as a friend (which I'm very lucky to have her as at our big ages), and as a professional woman with a science, legal, political and journalistic background, was honestly the best possible thing to come back to earth to (so lowkey thanks for that anon, I guess?). She was outraged (and said things I could never type, haha) and funny and considerate (she already knew I wrote fanfic, but her response to me reminding her and showing her my ao3 was 'i love you, and i don't care' lmao) and, perhaps most importantly! Practical!

Which is all to say I've opened a case tonight, at her urging, with the Australian eSafety Commission, which they are taking quite seriously because of the threat of involving minors. But also generally!, So I guess well done on that, to the anon who's sent me those asks, your attempt to shame me for writing about consensual sex is actually now about you threatening a sex crime, because sending anyone porn over the internet without their consent, is, in fact, a sex crime, even before you threaten to involve literal children. I have to give them my tumblr login, but y'know what? That's okay to me, actually, given they can now track your IP Address!

(Sorry to the anons I'm replying to, this is now becoming a direct address of this [+ the friends of this] anon but - - )

I suspect you won't read this rationally, because I don't think you read much that I write rationally, but I do think you should know that you're assaulting people by sending them explicit material out of the blue, which I write, yes, and I'm going to own it if you do send it on, regardless of who you send it to. Again, yes, I'll probably be embarrassed if you share my fic and replies with people in my life, but I'm not going to be ashamed of any of it. I share it with consenting adults, you're saying you'll share it with adults who you dont give the chance to consent, and also literal children (not to harp on the point, but, anon, my nephews are 7 and 8 years old. They are currently navigating their mother's divorce from their abusive father - real people, real children, not made up ones like Louis and Lestat and Claudia - I'd ask you, genuinely, what you felt bringing them into this conversation was supposed to achieve beyond threatening me into silence? Which is - - I hate to say it, anon - - abusive behaviour).

I also do question what it is about writing sex that you find worthy of sending to family members at all? Do you think I should be ashamed of writing smut? Because that's the interpretation I get from your asks, and, again, that says more about you than it does about me. That tells me the reverse would threaten you, if I could send your behaviour or fandom engagement, or fic history to your family, you would feel threatened.

Because, okay, what's the alternative? You threaten to send my fic to my sister, okay, why do you feel that gives you leverage if you don't inherently find it shameful? I'm sharing work in a community of consenting adults, you'd actively choose to take that out of that (and before you argue this point, you are consenting, by clicking on the links of my fics). In fact, you'd choose to bring my family members into that. Why? Me and my sister talk about sex all the time, we're sisters, my fics aren't going to land on her doorstep as the surprise you think they will (but also, again, the implication of you thinking this should take priority over her literal divorce and custody case from her actually abusive husband, driving what? A wedge between us? While purporting to champion a fictional victim of it.....it's pretty transparent at this point, anon, and honestly I'd say ugly too).

Why do you think I should be threatened by her opinion of what I write? Do you think you know my relationship with my sister and brother better than me? You don't know her or him at all (that actually wasn't even his birthday btw), you don't know me, so then it's - once again - about you - and your opinion - of what I write, but is it? Because I'd posit that the degree of shame you try to place on me isn't about what I like, it's about what you like, because okay. My fics feature Louis often topping, occasionally elements of bdsm, which are literally canon at this point, your subset of the fandom has male lactation, mpreg, ABO, heavily fetishised drag, and feminisation up the wazoo, and it's not to my fancy, but I live and let live. Those are though also objectively far nicher kinks / fetishes than what I'm writing, which is two men trying to pretend they're fucking instead of making love, so y'know - - why am I the hang up, anon? If you send people I know to ao3, I'm not going to be the person they judge.

Anyway, look, you should know that my mum has also organised for me to consult with a lawyer specialising in cyber safety and international law in the next few days, and I had also started the (yeah, sure, admittedly awkward) conversation with my main workplace too about you potentially sending posts or fic to them. We've had an actor doxxed already this year, which opened the doors, and I figured, well, gosh, may as well tell them about you guys too. Again - - you might be able to embarrass me, but you can't shame me out of existence, especially when you're apparently literally willing to commit sex crimes over it. You said I was two-faced in those last asks, and y'know, I don't think I am. I think (hope) i'm someone friendly, empathetic and thoughtul, but there absolutely is a resolute, stubborn cunt in me that I inherited from a generation of Australian women, and the number one thing I was raised on by those women was that you don't bend the knee to bad behaviour.

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valletydarwin · 2 days ago

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Please I would like to know, I think your writing and your fanfics on AO3 are wonderful!

— Mister Void, at your pleasure.🖤🗝

(Notice: Mister Void was asking about my AU and/or headcanons, but for some reason Tumblr bugged and it didn't appear)

OH YES PLEASE LET ME!!!😍🤩No one ever wanted to hear about it🥲

I feel like:

I think that's why she's one of my strongest Kins- BUUuuuut going back

It's not exactly an AU, since I didn't write anything anywhere, I just have it all stored in the back of my brain.It's more like a preference and a mix of several Headcanons and concepts that I took from some fanfics I read on AO3.

Like for example, the Batfam being absolute cryptids and scaring the shit out of everyone else in the hero community. For this trope, I usually like to think of the Batfam as having managed to build functional, realistic and beautiful wings.

Oh yeah, and let's not forget the classic bird language. Oh oh and the feline like claws and pads on the gloves too!Also, I like to think that Billy joined the family like, half a week after being invited to the League, seriously, he may be magical and a little more mature, but he's still a kid, and the Bats only need one slip-up from him to put the pieces together.

I also like to think that this Billy doesn't have the others from Shazamily, yet, because I want him, the way he is, to look at this bunch of orphaned street kids(and his lost twin sister of course), and simply give a Batman, taking them to the mansion just to shock everyone that the first one(technically second because of the whole Park Row's children and Jason thing) to start having Bruce's addiction to adoption was not Dick but Billy.

And even though I haven't put this in either of the two fanfics I've written so far, I'd like Bruce's parents(and Alfred) and Clark's parents to meet before the two were even born yet, and for them to grow up as brothers, and for the Kent farm to be an escape from Gotham's overwhelming elite and the spotlight for Bruce.

I want a young, stubborn Bruce to take a young, scared Clark around the farm and find Clark's ship, I want them to find out sooner what Clark is, who he was, his birth name, I want this duo of kids to be the ones to find out that Diana Prince is Wonder Woman and for her to take them as apprentices (References to an AO3 fic called Shadow Demon, it's really good, oh and I'm also getting a little bit of Alternative Heroes, Same Hearts).

I want a good relationship and communication between the Batfam, make Alfred forcefully shove an angry teenage Bruce into a therapy room, and of course, the training with the monks, and make him be very grateful for that now that he has to take care of other traumatized and vengeful little humans.

I want Jason to be caught sooner, that he was trying to steal Batman's tires to buy medicine for his mother, I want Bruce to take this child and feed him and promise to help in the best way possible, I want Bruce to take him to the moldy apartment that the boy calls home, I want him to realize the state of his mother, I want her to have already left, that she took advantage of Jason's departure to be able to get rid of her pain without having to do it in front of him. I want Bruce to comfort a young and hysterical Jason, I want this boy to cry himself to sleep only to wake up wrapped in the softest sheets of his entire life.

I want a Bruce who reveals his identity to Jim before he even considers taking a young, eager Barbara under his wings, okay? I want a responsible Bruce.

And don't make poor Lucius have so much stress.

I want Bruce to notice the little shadow following them (seriously, I think it's cool that Tim managed to do this without getting caught, but not here, Batman, Batwoman [yes, she comes sooner, i want Kate to come visit her cousin and see the shit he's doing and refuse to leave until he includes her] and Robin have wings, with sensors to feel things that normal people don't feel, like changes in the air, or even sensors to smell more specifically.), I want Bruce to notice that the neighbors left, but his son didn't go with them, I want Bruce to pick up this abandoned boy and wrap him in a hug.

I want him to see the daughter of one of the Rougues trying to sabotage her father, I want him to accept the help willingly and try to slowly gain her trust, I want a Bruce who saves Stephanie from her own father, I want a Bruce who couldn't save her mother, I want a Steph who even though she's sad doesn't blame him. I don't want Tim and Steph to date. I want them to be siblings. I want them to be best friends. I want them to be like twins. I want them to be chaos gremilins together!

I want Talia to not be evil, I want her to be essentially kind, I want a Talia who blames herself millions for what she did to Bruce, I want a Talia who looks at this tiny baby in her arms and loves him unconditionally, I want a Talia who can't stand watching the training her father gives to her baby, her son, I want Talia to take a 3-4 year old Damian and take him to Bruce, I want her to get hurt in the escape, I want Bruce to save her, but I also want her to run away, run away far away so that the LoA doesn't get close to her little and adorable Dami, nor her beloved, or the children he took as his. I want them to have a complicated, distant, forbidden, cursed by others, but true and lasting love.

I want the cat and bat game to be between Kate and Selina, I want more lesbian couples!!!Harley and Ivy? Stuning lesbians.

Oh, and the Joker and Jason incident... I want a Jason who feels so loved in a way he's never felt before that he musters up the courage to talk to his father(!), I want him to tell Bruce about Sheila, I want a Bruce who is an unconditionally loving and supportive father who offers to take him to where she is, I want him to warn him about the Joker, I want the bomb to go off with Bruce opening the warehouse doors just in time to just look at his Jaylad and he looks back and neither of them can get any closer.

I don't want a Bruce who kills the Jokerbut I want a Bruce who beats him to the point of paralysis.

I want Clark to be forced to leave the country at top speed to stop Bruce, but not to save the Joker, I want it to be to help his crying brother, to stop him from destroying himself with the clown.

I want that whole thing about or whoever wrote Alfred putting a "Good Soldier" plaque on Jason's grave to go to the fucking hell, I want him to have a proper burial, I want Park Row to mourn the death of one of their own who managed to get out of poverty and still come back to help them, I want Crime Alley to mourn the death of their little bird.

I want Tim to take a lot longer to take up the mantle of Robin, I want a Steph who stays with her no-twin even more, I want a Bruce who after talking to Clark and Diana makes everyone go to therapy, I want Ivy to help Harley recover from that bastard clown, I want Bruce to go see how the two are.

I want Talia to see a revived Jason wandering and take him in, I want her to try to start making amends with Bruce by starting by taking care of his lost boy, I want her to start seeing him as hers too, I want Damian and Jason to be brothers, I want Talia to show the state the Joker is in, I want her to show that it took Clark to get Bruce away from the clown's decrepit body, I want her to show how his family scared the city so much that not only the rougues avoided going out at night, I want Talia to take them both back to Bruce.

I want them to cuddle in a pile of love and affection, I want a Talia still being treated to be in that pile too, I want that even with her away most of the time, the kids see her as a mother.

I want Tim to take up the mantle of Robin with Jason's blessing. And I want Steph to finally come out as Batgirl.

I want a young Cass to be noticed as soon as she sets foot in Gotham, I want it to be during one of Talia's visits, I want my couple to take this girl raised to be a weapon and turn her into a real child, I want everyone in the mansion to learn ASL when she prefers to gesture rather than speak most of the time. I want Steph to hand her over to Batgirl with Barbara's blessing and the two of them to go out together on Cass's first patrol with Tim hot on their heels.

And I want Bruce to find out about the "we are Robin" movement, I want Bruce to take this boy who started a gang under his wing.

I want Bruce to see this city and the heroes who disappeared out of nowhere and came back out of nowhere, I want the trinity to invite Marvel to the League, I want Bruce to discover that the Champion of Magic, Fawcette's main hero, an idol to many (and to Clark, who was very disappointed when he found out that Marvel wasn't Kryptonian), is a homeless child. I want Bruce to gain his trust, I want Bruce to give him a family and promise to find this boy's sister.

I want a Bruce who, after the invasion of Starro, sees this little star in his hands and can't resist his children wanting to keep him (and he himself wanted to too-), I want Jarro to be included in things, I WANT HIM TO HAVE THE LOVE HE DESERVES, OKAYY!?!?!?!

I want the current Justice League to be new, I want Bruce to be the first father and I want no one but Diana, Clark and Billy to know... Oh, and Barry too, since Dick would be best friends with Wally from an early age.

I want a Bruce who doesn't kill, but I also want a Bruce who doesn't force his rules and morals down his children's throats, I want a Bruce who understands that his children are individual beings, I want Bruce to understand that his children can and do have different morals and views.

I want Jon and Damian to be raised like Clark and Bruce were.

I want Clark to see this clone that looks about Tim's age and not think twice about bringing him home. I want Kon and Tim to be Bi best friends.

Oh and Kara!! I want Kara and Babs to be a thing, I want them together!!! I want my third lesbian coupleee!!

I want Kate and Selina, Ivy and Harley to be the cool aunts who take the kids out to cause chaos.

I want Bruce to have less of a Brucie or hooker persona and more of a tired dad thing. Dark circles under his eyes? Oh, Dami couldn't sleep. Hurt? Uh, Dick tried to maneuver the chandelier and would have fallen if I hadn't run to catch him! Am I a mess? The kids started an argument!

And I think that's it for now, I hope I put everything that was in my head.

Oh, to add, I've never read any DC comics, okay? Not Marvel either, or anything other than Turma da Monica(in english: Monica's Gang)...

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