#and it was take AT LEAST a decade before she would agree to ‘help’ the good guys

[leviiackrman]

I just found out what happens to dabi at the end of mha. Don’t talk to me.

[sundrlands]

‘below the mouth’ j. sunderland x fem reader

minors dni

cw: in the dark, shoe riding/humping, light oral fixation/spit play, slightly messy, james is depicted as a pervert, sub leaning james with him being dominant at times, obsessive(j.), mutual masturbation(?), squirting, breeding, james is in his mid to late thirties. reader uses she/her pronouns.

summary: james… your coworker. the man who seems so hardworking, headstrong and devoted to his work… is nothing but a pervert enticed with the very being that you are… he can’t help but to see you as art— a canvas to paint on… as if his hands were paint… and his fingertips as the bristles, sketching out his greed with his lips and his words.

a/n: more porn than plot, forgive me. not too fond of this one and kept eyeing it over and over over and ended up truly hating this… nonetheless i hope you find some enjoyment in this one. i did not proofread…

oh james… what ever shall he do?

poor thing, constantly wrapped up in his own mind… unable to tame the growing thoughts that mutated within him. being lonely does things to a person… the years of suppression only made his longing for intimacy fester in the darkness of his greed.

in the beginning… it had been alright— good with his composure, carrying a kind of elegance through his actions and words. he wore ‘respect’ like an honorable man— button down shirts, tucked nicely in his well ironed pants. every day he’d come in dapper, not one thing out of place. it would be impressive to notice his true desires when he hadn’t worn them out on his sleeves.

though now… it was a different story. there’s only so much he could take… seeing you in your work outfits every single day or hearing your voice… the song you sung that never failed to make him treasure your being and feel every vowel that spewed from your lips filter and sprawl all throughout his veins. james tried to keep his need low, always being so gentleman like— kind, thoughtful and charming, but his thickening puddle of lust seeped through in the growing void that rests in the center of his eyes… being far dirtier than what meets the eye, disgusting even.

it was cute once you picked up on it… or at least the extent of it— his shyness and ability to lose all self, unable to maintain professional eye contact or a flowing sentence without randomly clearing his throat. a man well into his thirties— one that was valued by your shared boss, exceeding work ethic, always saying ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘yes sir’, not blinking an eye to the rule’s code— felt the need to act so foolishly enticed when it came to you.

for him, the absence of touch— one that he never felt come from your hand — drove james into a constant state of lustrous want… it ate within his being like a hungered cannibal digging its fingers through every fiber of his flesh. it prodded and ripped in the center of his chest like a wolf's canines as he sat at his work desk, drained… lifeless… thinking about everything he wanted to do to you… or whatever you’d do to him.

the inside of his body grew hot at the thought of you— dry throat, racing heart, fumbling words… his eyes, lingering all over your body longer than they had the day before, trying to see how much he could get away with… letting every second store itself in his photographic memory.

infested with carnality, day and night. james’ mind couldnt escape his perverted thoughts; as if it was the horrid and angry deep sea, crashing against the softness of the hot sand, in need of something to fix prurience, and the heightening want to be underneath your skin.

it started off with a hello, you being new and him well within the company’s community by a decade or two. a sweet exchange of a firm gripped hand shake and small talk before you went on your way. upon his sight, he was already fond of the beauty you blossomed. he wasn’t able to stop himself from looking… and as time continued, each day you met with him, it caused him to be in his head.

whenever you agreed to go out with your coworkers to local bars and restaurants, he’d ask around, passively, wanting to know if you’d be there to join. any chance he’d get, he’d sit next to you or across from you, thinking that the lack of lighting would hide the fact that he sat there to study you— his gentle hazel eyes, staring with eagerness… tattooing you into the grooves of his brain. each time you all went out, it was as if he tried harder… or lost the ability to care if you noticed or not. catching his eyes… for the first few seconds he didn’t even realize your attention on him until you’d call out his name a few times or lean towards him, breasts spilling from your top.

he’d go home, all eager. undoing his tie and his belt, slamming his door shut and making his way towards his bed, muttering: “just this once…” to himself, staring down at his hardened dick after thinking about the way your breasts sat prettily in the top you wore.

with his eyes squeezed shut, his wrist rippled in fast motion with whitening knuckles. he’d call out your name. each whinier than the last… feeling the weight of your name kiss the head of his cock— irregular breathing, toes curling into the thick of his comforter— whines that turned into a chants. over and over again he moaned your name, not even lasting three minutes until he let himself go… ribbons of his hot cum falling down onto his chest.

shame filtered his body almost instantaneously, not understanding how he was able to let himself go just from a simple top you wore… he swore to himself that that would be the first and only time he’d ever do something like that— to rush into his house just to relieve the growing hard on that you, without much acknowledgment, gave him.

and for a few days, he hadn’t. it didn’t stop the stares or the way his cock jumped upon hearing your voice… he’d just fall back into the same perverted state, clutching onto the arm of his work chair while you talked to him about something he couldn’t even pay much attention to. he saw the outline of your body against your work outfit thinking about how you’d look if he ripped it off.

his breathing quickened as he tried to direct his gaze on something else, his computer… maybe his paperwork? it didn’t help because he could still hear you fucking speak.

a sharp gulp and a shaky sigh— it was the most obvious he’s ever been, sensing the way he was unable to sit still. “james?” you called out, amusement lingering in the tone of your voice.

“uhm.” he huffed, a faint smirk curling at the side of his lips, trying to keep his composure as much as he could. “sorry… im not feeling too well.” turning his head to you, seeing a warm, devious yet alluring smile rest on your lips. almost immediately, he reacted. swallowing hard and clearing his throat.

walking towards where the man sat, you placed your hand at his shoulder, feeling the softness of his suit glide against your palm, finding his averting eyes, “do you need me to… get you anything?”

he shook his head, flinching upon touch, dropping his attention into his lap where his hands bunched to cover the obvious dent. “it… it’s fine. i just have to use the restroom… excuse me.” his voice quick and slurred, body immediately jumping up from his chair as he made his way to the men’s bathroom.

the beat of his heart ran heavily in his ribcage, causing his body to burn and wither as he laid himself limply against the bathroom’s door. each inhale was harder to stabilize— the air feeling heavy and clunky as it lumped and fell down his throat. with the soft jingle of his belt, he pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, “god…” he sighed, wrapping his hand around his cock— hot and tortured, “why do you… why do you turn me on so much?”

soft chokes and mutters fell in the echoing bathroom’s walls, covering his mouth creating muffled whimpers to exude and swell. his body churned and trembled, hearing the loose hinges of the door combat with his movement. “fuck… fuck…” he whined, his eyes traveling up to see the mirror across the way.

the sight of himself… it almost looked like his own reflection was a stranger. no person has ever made him have the need to run for a quick release… at least not from their voice alone. it was just how eager he was— how eager you made him— the look of his knees buckling, the pace of his pumps, the skin of his face shake and the way he desperately tried to keep himself quiet… he looked so pathetic to himself, never seeing that side or noticing how much you made him that way just from the sight of you.

in a way… it turned him on, getting a better picture of what you’d see if you were to stand in this very bathroom. thoughts grappled through his visionary mind, his vision shooting towards different places in the bathroom, looking at the sink: how pretty you’d look, pants down your legs with him fucking up into you, your own eyes in the mirror, watching yourself getting fucked by him. or in the stall: your fingers clutching harshly at the stall’s door with his fingers deeply plunging itself inside of your cavern.

a million and one things infiltrated his desires until he couldn’t find himself to stop even after the first time he came onto the bathroom’s floor. his wrist burned with the consistent motion, after his cock hadn’t let up its hardness, moaning as quietly as he could to have himself go limp.

thirty minutes he spent in there… and for him to be known to cum quick… it only meant that he rung himself dry. he couldn’t even walk straight— you knowingly understanding the weight of power you had over him after you timed his absence and him finally waddling back into his chair.

“you alright?” you laugh sweetly, being as oblivious as you could possibly be within his perspective, trying not to stare at the small wet spot that circled at his crotch.

“yeah…” his voice trembling, still in a daze from his multiple orgasms, “must’ve ate something funny…”

after that day… jerking off in the office’s bathroom, there was no turning back— as if that was the only reason that would’ve been true. there was no way he’d be able to contain the continuous passion that resonated all throughout his body— as if you talked to him through your idle.

days would pass and he’d show himself more and more obvious, losing the care to show off his usual persona. he’d take one of your handkerchiefs you left on your desk when you hadn’t been around, tucking them in his pockets only to inhale the left over scent that interwoven itself into its soft cloth, using it almost every night until all he could smell was his own scent. he’d hold onto your wrist when trying to grab your attention, clutching it until he felt the gentle pulse, syncing with the growing hard on he’d feel build and tighten at the crotch of his pants.

on random days, he’d listen when you spoke to other’s about the dates you’ve been on, hearing how they werent satisfying you— filling his brain with possible ways he’d make you feel good. taking you out to eat with good food and wine with an even better conversation only to have him balls deep inside of you just for you to remember nothing from anyone in your past and only form yourself at the outline of his cock.

on a sunny afternoon, you had a held a party for your birthday— all the coworkers you found as friends, including james— in your house for drinks, food and good music. you kept your eye on him as much as you could without making it obvious that the only reason for the party was to see how he’d react now being so close to you.

he showed nothing but nervousness, almost never leaving the cushions from your couch, not even drinking or eating for that matter. he looked uncomfortable… or maybe he was just deep in thought. it only took one look away for him to disappear, his lack of person and the indent of where he sat on the couch to be shown.

james decided he needed more… that handkerchief wasn’t enough since your scent was gone and his imaginations made his want physically hurt considering he wasn’t able to touch you like he wished he could.

finding his way to your room, he rummaged through your dirty laundry, finding a pair of black panties, keeping it to himself. in a cold sweat, he knew that he had time to spare, whipping his head back and forth from the cloth towards your bedroom door before he sat on your bed, rolling his thumb at the crotch of your underwear.

deep and staggered breaths, he rose it up to his nose, smelling the soiled cloth, noticing how these pair must’ve been worn during your arousal, his cock reacting like wildfire— choking at the lack of air he gave himself from the constant huffing he did. each inhale was like heaven. god… your pussy smelt so good… better than he could imagine. the muscle of his tongue sliding at the left over cream marks left, his moans staggering, almost in need of crying at how good this action made him feel.

placing the underwear in his mouth, he grabbed what was closest to him— your pillow— angling his body to get himself off. luckily with how loud the music had been outside, no one would be able to hear the brash creeks of your bed as he humped himself to oblivion. hips snapping, fingers curling into your bed’s unmade sheets with his face planted deep within them as he sniffed whatever your body’s scent leftover.

this is what he wanted… this is what he feened for. only orgasming once, he fixed your bed trying to replicate as if he had never been on it, tucking the panties… and one more in his pants pocket and walking out of your bedroom.

met with him, you smiled, noticing the lust that fumed off of his person, not making it seem as if you knew, “what’re you doing in there? the parties out there silly.” you laughed.

“yeah! i was just looking for the bathroom.” he gulped.

nodding, you ran your tongue over the bottom of your lip, eyeing how his hair wasn’t as neat as it had been before and his shirt wasn’t tucked in as it usually was. “it’s just down there.”

“thank you.” scattering down the hall.

upon entering your room, all you could smell was the foreign aroma of his arousal, smiling at how you didn’t even had to do anything to him physically let alone verbally and he got so worked up. riddled with temptation, you knew you had this man wrapped around your finger, obliging with his action and giving him more with your seductive nature.

it was more noticeable now— how you both operated whenever with each other. anyone could just sense it, feel it, cut it in the thickening air of their razor nails. the body languages, the way you both spoke, the way your eyes spoke with extreme intent.

the tingling sensation rose within your body, almost electrifying you whenever you heard your name being called by him— his natural rasp that croaked from his throat, huddling over your eardrums with bliss. you could only guess what he did that day when he bolted off into the bathroom. it was obvious. feeling your attraction grow by his attentiveness and the willingness of him trying so desperately to be beside you… just thinking about him got you so worked up.

it was fun witnessing his obvious need to separate himself just to get off… but the poor boy needed solace you thought to yourself.

he was being such a good boy, trying so hard not to put himself onto you, being respectful enough, kind and excusing himself but you decided to take charge— have him finally able to get what he wanted and what you were curious about.

one night, you took that advantage as everyone else had dispersed from the office, it had only been you two, him hunched in his chair, face glowing from his computer screen and you packing all of your work to go home. he usually stayed overtime, having his own set of keys the boss left because of his repetitive stay.

now you stood within his space, the office dark, a low hum coming from james not even noticing your silhouette that stood just at his cubicle. “you going home?” you spoke out, your voice lulling out.

startled, he turned at his chair, swallowing down the large lump that rested at his throat. “oh!” he chirped, looking back and forth at the shadow that made up of you and his computer screen. “uh not yet… there’s some things i have to finish.”

“could it wait? just for a little?”

furrowing his eyebrows, he sat confused, noticing the tone of your voice, feeling his palms dampen, rubbing them roughly at his pant legs.

oh how cute he was acting.

“sorry i..” he chuckled nervously, “im confused.”

sucking at your tongue, you stepped forward, the screen’s light falling at your outline, exposing the lust that mixed in with the devious expression that wore on your face. “don’t give me that look,” you cooed, closing the distance between you both until your feet planted themselves just before him. “tell me, what has you still in this office this late at night?”

“uhm yeah…” he chuckled again, his words slow as he spoke about the finishing touches of a project that had been due in a few days. quite honestly, you hadn’t cared much to know, you just enjoyed the random inhales of breath in between his words as he tried to keep his composure at bay.

“such a good man you are. i take it your work ethic is better than all of us combined?”

he cleared his throat, tilting his head in nervousness at the choice of words that trickled down, aiming at his spine with him tensing in his chair. “th… thank you.”

“but you should take a break, you seem all pent up. that isn’t healthy, don’t you think?”

“what do you purpose?” he asked with you humming in response.

the silence between that fell in the air was loud, burning against your eardrums until you heard his breathing coming in shallow wheezes, his chest tightening as his heart hammered at his ribcage. he couldn’t even look at you… his head couldn’t lift itself from his hands, fingers tangling with themselves.

“can you look at me?” you soothed.

no response was given, just the raise of his body at every heavy inhale.

“look at me james…” your voice now coming out as a whisper, using your hand to curl at his jaw, feeling the roughness of the stubble that ran alongside it. at a gentle lift, his face rose, his eyes staggering to follow until you saw the gentle, puppy-eyed man lock himself onto you. “that’s it..”

at the tilt of his head, his body hiccuped in a trickling gasp. every memory of him being by himself, jerking his hardening cock, the sounds of his own pleasuring cries echoed in his brain. it burned at his cheeks with a peach strain— embarrassed but enamored by the sway of your lulling voice and kind eyes. the cold that emitted from your hand felt like static, almost foreign, unable to comprehend that you where here, actually touching him and it wasn’t just his perverted mind conjuring up a scene of you having your way with him.

just by your simple touch, it felt raw and ravenous—body stiffening like tainted brittle bones… his spine slowly contorting in a fidgeting arch, like christ himself pressed his jellied pierced palms across the flesh of an aching wound. “fuck…” he breathed, giving up on his lose of current reality, placing his own hand on top of yours, sliding it more onto his own face. he buried himself in it, eyes closing, falling into a blissful state, feeling the warmth that blossomed and coddled at his skin.

his mind and his body was starved… in need of you as if the only sin he knew was nothing but greed— believing the palms of your hands was magic, a bandage to a scab, an antidote to a sickness. you did nothing but stand there, watching him revel in pleasure just from your hand now stroking his face slowly and delicately, admiring the sweet yet sorrowful pout drawn at his lips.

“follow my words.” you spoke, interrupting the silence between you both, “can you do that for me james?”

his eyes dilated, feeling his stomach drop hearing his name being called. it drove him mad and it only was because of your voice— so gentle and sweet, thick as if he could gnaw on it. “yes…” he finally answered.

standing behind him, you let the pressure of your hands massage his back, feeling the tension reside in his shoulders. you could feel his irregular breathing at every push your fingers gave, knuckles whitening at the clutch of his pant legs. “oh wow you’re so tense… why is that?”

“just… all the work is getting to me.”

“yeah?” your voice obvious in sensuality, hearing his grunt when you let the pressure fall a little rougher. a quiet exchange of noises bounced back and forth with comforting and pent up sighs, spending a good few minutes, trailing your hands down the sides of his arms, “you’re pretty built underneath this suit.” you teased.

clenching his eyes tight, he screamed at himself internally, trying to speak to his cock to not harden but it failed, looking down at his lap and seeing what the computer’s light was able to show, letting out a quiet laughing hum. you had him now…

“stand… and kiss me.”

and so he stood, his arms awkwardly at his sides, broadcasting his awful posture as he waited for your next move. from a simple swift movement, your hand met with the back of his neck, pulling him in, pressing your lips against his. the sync of your lips were soft and slow but quickly it changed by the lead of his tongue that cascaded along the bottom of yours, inhaling the hitching breath as his fingers played with the bottom of his suit jacket.

gentle grunts hummed against your flesh, opening your lips to oblige by his speed, noting the way he drank your existence in the exchange of your mouths. his tongue fluttered against yours, rolling the tip of his muscle against the ridges of your teeth, spit spilling down one another’s chins as your bodies fell closer into one another feeling the pattern of your breathing fall as one.

your leg pressed in the middle of his, feeling his bulge rub against you with a higher pitched moan being a gift of your sudden embrace.

the air was hot and heavy despite the chill from the office that hugged you both, "ride it.." you moaned in between the kiss, moving your leg in slow grinds, feeling the heat that emitted from his clothed cock weave through your work pants.

“okay…” he answered back, removing himself from the kiss as his hips started to buck forward in motion with your leg’s movement.

his body couldn’t keep up with the burning passion that continued to spread through his body, starting with the aching sensation that rested at his cock.

no words had been exchanged, only moans as if it that was the only language you both understood— the lack of light only being laminated by the moon that fell through the windows and the computer screen. your hand strengthened its grip, foreheads pressed against one another, feeling his leg fall in between your leg in the midst of his grinds.

both of you fell in lust with the eager grinds you shared, hearing the rut of clothes being rubbed against one another, his unknowing hands, placing its purpose at your hips, gripping incredibly tight, pulling you closer at every hungered thrust, your eyes gulping the color of his.

he moved his body, you whining quietly at the empty feeling of his knee. he dropped down, leveling his face at your legs, pressing kisses starting at your ankle and to your knee, moving his lips as his tongue peaked through, letting spit form and absorb in the cloth of your pants until he reached your waist.

"may i...?” he whimpered, a smile curling at your lips, nodding with his fingers making its way to your shirt, yanking it upwards which made you gasp at the sudden movement. he continued his kiss, the cold inhale of his breath washing against your skin as he pressed his lips at the lining of your peaking underwear, running his tongue alongside it.

with a deep press of his lips, he left wet marks, pressing his face into your stomach, his head dragging all the way up your torso, inhaling the sweet smell of your detergent as well as the soap that coated your skin, until he stood once again, finding your neck, taking a bite without much warning— feeling the flesh sink between the spaces in his teeth. 'so soft', he thought, letting his lips latch and suck roughly, as he used his unoccupied hand to pull your body closer to him.

his tongue rippled and rolled against the aching bitten part of your neck, popping himself off before he pressed a kiss at the hem of your ear, "is this real?" he whispered, pressing more kisses at the side of your face. it felt prosperous, feeling his lips scatter the smooth surface of your face, neck and ear— fingers prodding the side of your waist.

"can you say it… please?” releasing a sharp gasped whisper, his nose dragging along your cheek, sighing out a moan. "say…my name... i need to hear your voice.”

"james..." you exhaled, enjoying the way he wanted nothing but your time and your attention. he made you feel sexy.. desirable, like his own drug that he was unable to let go or take control of. every touch felt purposeful, hungry… soft with a strain of roughness.

"no... louder. say it... please say it louder." his words breathless, cracking each time his voice dipped in register, letting open mouthed kisses to gently press onto your skin.

"james!" your voice rose, saying it over and over at every press of his lips you felt, his moans talking back to each time he heard his name flutter from your throat. your voice felt like it was running down his spine and settling itself right at his cock. you adored how cute he was without even knowing that you wanted to devour him— the sharp want to have him crumble in your embrace.

“fuck..” he cried sweetly, his voice breaking down in harmony. you placed your hands at his shoulders pushing him down as he obeyed your forceful action, him now on his knees.

without a thought, you pressed the bottom of your shoe at his obvious bulge, pressing your weight on it, his body shuddering with his lips ajar. “tell me…” your diction sounding breathless, feeling the outline of him through the sole of your shoe, “do you think of me… while you touch yourself.” his eyes growing, surprised and slightly worried— not as if it wasn’t telling he came at the thought of you.

he couldn’t answer, only giving a harsh swallow and swiveling hips, humping into the sole of your shoe.

“come on pretty boy… answer… i know you do it.”

“yes…” he gulped, “i do… i do. all the fucking time.” he admitted, his words flowing fast with his hips coming at the same speed.

placing your foot down on the floor, he immediately straddled, hands grabbing onto your calf for support as his hips rippled and rutted deeply into you like a horned dog. whimpers roared through the office’s enclosure. he felt dizzy, drunk within the lust that spewed between you both. it was pitiful but cute— losing all forms of self just to hump on your shoe.

grasping his jaw, he looked up at you, eyebrows knitted in pleasure as his hair bounced in movement, leaning down the gather spit, letting it fall into his opened mouth. he drank it instantaneously, nodding at the new action he had never done before. your spit tasted sweet, filling his mouth with an extended tongue in need of more.

and so you did, this time more forceful, some falling at the side of his lip, falling down his jaw and chin.

something about how he acted, the way he presented himself and the way his nervousness wore him so brightly. you could hear it his voice, in his moans, see in his eyes, face and body— nothing he had in display for you showed you otherwise. cupping the side of his face as your thumb gently stroked the warmth of his cheek, making his cock jump more than it already had.

“you like that don’t you baby?”

“uh huh…” he breathed, frantically nodding, letting his eyes drape towards your lips, seeing his tongue peak through, pressing your thumb at his plush lips, dragging them loosely, until his lips would tug, allowing his teeth to peak through before leaning in closer to his until being inches apart— irregular breathing brush against your mouth, as his nose nudges gently the side of yours, kissing you roughly… wet and raw. more spit escaping, coating all over.

“can i…” he spoke in between, “can i taste you?”

and with an accepting moan, his body rose, grabbing you until you sat on his desk, the light of his computer now black and the moon being the only source of light.

opening your legs, he leaned in, his middle finger ran between your clothed, wet slit. raising his head, he looked down at you, “holy fuck… how’re you so wet? i can feel it through your pants,” he taunted, gaining a small glint of confidence.

he lifted your shirt once more, just enough to show your full stomach as he held onto your waist, pressing his lips right beneath your breast, leaving slow, teasing kisses down your body with his eyes staring right up at you. his face met up in between, spreading your thighs apart more as he let his face set right in center, pressing his nose right in the indention where his finger once was, inhaling your sweet smell before rolling his tongue over her clothed pussy. “your pussy smells so sweet.” he breathed, his fingers curling at your pants and yanking them down until you were only left with them puddled at your feet and panties hugging your waist.

his mouth latched onto your clit, slowly sucking you right over your panties, feeling your throbbing bud feather against his tongue.

sliding your panties to the side, he saw the wetness connect from your pussy lips, to your clit, running all down your slit, immediately spreading your lips apart, seeing your whole view.

“so… pretty... god i wanna fuck it with my tongue. have my tongue so deep inside you, i can feel you clench yourself. can i… can i do that?” his eyes not leaving your face, seeing the limited and minimal expression the moon’s light allowed him to see, letting his tongue run up your slit as his mouth latches on.

nothing felt more pleasurable than to see the other pleased. his fingers trembled and ached to take you all in one go, but he believed you deserved more than that, you deserved to feel it run through every inch of your body. he wanted to prove that there’s levels you could reach that’ll make you feel like ecstasy.

his body burned as if he was on fire, feeling himself twitch at every small sound that exuded from your throat. “your voice, it turns me on so fucking much...” gripping onto your thighs, his nose nudging at your clit, mouth hovering over your cunt, drawing ribbons at the entrance of your pussy. he shook his head from side to side, your sweet scent filling his airway as he felt your slick coat the sides of his lips and the tip of his nose.

his tongue plunging itself into you, feeling your cunt pulsate alongside the bud of your clit. as his tongue worked along your slit and hole, repeatedly lapping at each entrance with the flat of their tongue. your scent and flavor enveloping his entire face, like a drug, and erotic perfume that he’d gladly wear if possible. his eyes drooping into a squint, his body loosening— expect the core of his tightening abdomen from holding his breath and their increasingly hard cock. thrusting his face as he began to fuck you with his tongue, hollowing his cheeks, continuing to pay close attention to your clit. pulling back, he licked his lips, gathering spit as he spat right on your cunt, followed by a little slap, rubbing with the palm of his hand against the new tingling sensation, “was that… was that too much?” he slurred, not thinking of the impact of what he had just done with the pleasured yelp you let out.

“you’re such a dirty boy…” you laughed, your hips breaking down as it planted itself more into his desk. “keep going… show me what a horny little thing like you thinks about while you touch yourself.”

drunk of you— the taste, the smell, he could feel a pit of sensation fuel right at the bottom of his abdomen. “hump my face baby, please…use me.”

with his tongue, he lifted your clitoral hood, centering his tongue right at your clit as he fluttered it as fast as his tongue allowed him too, feeling your expose bud jolt. using his other hand, he slid one finger in, curling it slightly as he slowly let it slide in and out, feeling your walls close. the sounds you let out couldn’t be controlled, admiring how he used your body like an art piece, finding his way to use every fragment of your being, getting off to your pleasure. each knuckle falling deeper, as he started to bring up his pace. so wet, you could hear it at each pump, and god did that turn him on. “listen to your pussy baby. my god you’re so wet..”

loving the feeling of your fingers that now laced in his hair, tugging at it whenever you felt so, feeling the tingle wash from down his scalp and spine, making him groan deeply against your, feeling it almost itch his own throat. his other hand pressing firmly against your stomach, rolling it up your body as he dragged the pads of his fingers down your torso, then thigh, letting them create small indentions in your smooth skin.

he watched as you squirmed as you watched how pathetically invested he looked hooked in pleasure— him yearning for this type of attention, as if he cried for it. his eyes begged and begged, his actions looking less and less sense and out of touch of reality. your hips, not having a rhythmic move to them, just rolling and humping as his face kept up with your sloppy hips.

he slide one more finger inside, curling that one as well as his others as he turned his wrist in a circular motion, almost drilling your cunt, pushing it in and out, trying to find your sweet spot. he lifted his head, letting a string of spit and slick connect from his lips and your pussy. “keep looking at me… please don’t stop.” the sting burning at his forearm— veins now prominent running from his fingers and down wrist. your pussy making the most loudest and obnoxious noise, syncing with the pacing of his hand and mouth.

his face traveled up, his face now hovering yours, paying close attention to your expression and the way you moaned for him, furrowing his eyebrows, “yeah? does it feel good right there?” he cooed, singing with your moans which filled the space that surrounded you both. he gathered spit in his mouth once more, letting it go straight into your mouth— your hand out of his hair and to his face, holding his jaw and feeling the grooves of his teeth by how hard you held it.

“god you’re so good for me.” you grunted, eyes almost rolling at the feeling of his fingers plunging at your cunt.

gritting through his teeth, “and you drive me insane…” pressing his mouth against yours once more as he started to sloppily kiss you— your slick already coating his mouth and tip of his nose, now swallowing your moans. his breathing was erratic and his demeanor changed, feeling a sense of lustful malice grow in his body.

hurriedly, you undid his pants, slipping your hand in his underwear, taking out his hot heavy cock, his body immediately reacting with his hand holding the desk beside you for support. without hesitation, you jerked his cock, finding the same speed of his plunging fingers.

shared and eager moans radiated from you both, whiny and pathetic, desperate and conjoined— the sweet sounds of your wet slick and his skin being tugged at his cock.

“don’t stop.” he strained, already feeling himself in need to release, never being one to last longer than he wished to.

spit dripping from one another’s mouths, the tension continued to rise, the familiar sensation cradling at your core as well as his. clenching around his fingers, your thighs started to close themselves, him quickly opening them as he breathed in a choked gasp.

“are you gonna cum for me?” you teased, knowing you were right where he was, his body twitching as he nodded in response, “cum for me… do it james.”

a loud groan crept as he removed your hand, replacing it with his as he jerked his cock in a speed you had never seen from another man, directing his slit right at your clit. spurts of his cum fell right at your clit, the sight being too much for you to handle— the head from it, sliding down to his fingers as he continued his hungered pumps, an orgasm ringing around it. it creamed thickly, white cuddling at his knuckles.

both of your bodies fell weak, the speed now resting slow as you tried to gather your breaths, eyes connecting as one as you recollected all the passion that infiltrated.

“my god…” you breathed, his fingers coating in your natural nectar and his cum, inhaling your womanly scent which sent waves of pleasure directly towards his cock that started to rise again. god… did he love the way your fucking pussy smelt. it didn’t compare to your handkerchief… your bed… even your used panties. his fingers slipping out as he placed them in his mouth, each finger being sucked clean. “you’re so fucking hot…”

the intensity that fueled you both was too much to comprehend. no words being able to be spoken— james blinded by the beauty and the smell of sex that fumed in the air. after all the days of him tugging his cock, the thoughts became real.

his face hovered yours, hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed gentle kisses across your lips, “can i...” he gasped in between each kiss, heavy air pushing through his nostrils as he tried desperately not to pass out from the adrenaline and the need to feel you, overwhelm you and just make you cum from his dick. “can i fuck you…? please… please… please please please please please…” his voice cracking in between.

the need that laced in your whine transmitted through the thick of his burning skin. it was hard to contain steady breathing. mine, he thought. you were all his for the night, and it signified that you were in this very moment.

lips feathering against your chin, each kiss longer than the last, with his nose nudging up into your cheek. just from the quiet sounds you let out, your consent, your ‘okay’ to put his dick inside of you made the way he felt more intense than it already had. his fingers wrapping around the start of his shaft as he started to pump himself.

“you can tell me if you want me to fuck you slow…” he continued, cupping his hand to his lips and spitting in it, making a small puddle to coat his dick. “or if you want me to fuck you fast… tell me… tell me to keep fucking you… tell me… just talk for me… please.”

his eyes jolted down as his cock angled itself right at your opening pushing himself inside. just half of what would be his tip, focused only on you. sucking in harshly at how big he was and how he wasn’t even all the way in. with his other hand cupping the side of your face and neck, his thumb rubbing gently.

“you okay baby…?” his attention still on you, analyzing each expression you gave to make sure that he wasn’t hurting you in any shape or form, pressing a long kiss at the side of your cheek beside your ear, “im going to keep going okay…? just breathe for me…”

they pushed more, his tip fully being in your cunt. his body shuttered… you were so warm, you were tight and held him so comfortably, if you wanted him to stop right there, it’d be enough for him to cum. anything for you was enough for him. bodies slowly enveloping on another as he tried to talk to your body in a way that gave you comfort and pleasure. “more?” he breathed, it hitching as he mindlessly held his breath, pushing more of himself into you— your hot walls holding around the start of his shaft, textured and wet, with a heartbeat that almost felt as if you were sucking him in without his go.

a pornographic moan being spewed from james’ lips. the way your cunt grasped onto him, it's textured walls massaging his cock into heaven. you felt full, his dick thick— leaning towards girth— your breathing picking up in pace. you molded his cock perfectly, his hips slowly pressing himself deeper until his hole cock was enveloped in you. "goo...good boy." you tried to praise, hiccuping as your hands fell onto his shoulders.

the thrust started off slow, hiccuping almost similar to his rut against your shoe. it took a few thrusts until he finally was able to find himself— barely. each inward thrust, the desk shook, your body sliding upwards against his paperwork that scattered and crumpled.

“is this… is this okay?” his voice broken, hearing the new diction in his tone.

“faster… don’t be shy…”

you didn’t have to tell him twice, his hips momentarily stopping as he planted his feet firmly on the ground— animalistic groans combating the way his hips started to snap. each thrust, your rear puckering hole was abused by james’ balls. again and again, the loud rhythmic sound of your skin slapping. "good boy, keep fucking me. make me cum."

the tip of his dick angling in a place you were unsure about. what was this? you thought. your body was excited and you didn't know why— you didn't know how to prepare yourself. your body unable to stay still or find a place where you felt the best in stabilization, screaming his name as he finally hit that spot, your good spot.

"don't stop! don't stop! don't stop! don't—" you chanted, him hitting your g spot over and over with your pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper at each outward thrust.

"i wish i fucked you sooner, why does this feel so good?!" already having the need to cum with no intention of holding it.

you as well. you needed to cum, but you felt something new as well. the similarly feeling of you needed to 'go'.

"waitwaitwaitwait!!!" you moaned out loud, his cock slipping out with an unexpected gift being brought to both of you. you squirted. it spilling from your cunt and drenching on the both of you— your face, his work clothes and your work clothes. you had no time to react, your legs violently shook, with james hurriedly slipping in again with the same need to release centering at the opening of your cunt.

"ineeedto... i... fuhhhcking" you slurred, eyes rolling each time james pulled out, your pussy let out small spurts of your squirting cum.

"that is so fucking hot... you're so hot." james cried, tears rimming in his eyes, feeling himself having the need to cum.

one leg wrapped his waist pushing him down, rolling your hips upward even though it was all too much, but your cunt wanted more, it felt like it could cum at least one more time. grabbing your face, your lips forming a squished 'o'.

"fuck...fucking good boy." your voice fucked out.

"it feels too good… i can’t take it." he continued to wail, tears started to stream down his face. "im gonna—" he announced with one finally thrust, james let his hot load rest deep inside you.

one could say his dream was now complete, but a new question shall be asked; how will this continue? from being ‘friends’, horny individuals to fuck at work. but for now, you both continued to calm down from your high, kissing each other sweetly.

“this won’t be the last time.” you smiled triumphantly, trying to catch your breath.

a/n: i never know how to end these… but maybe there will be another part…

[muffinsin]

hi!!! I have a request for you!!! could we get some general headcanons for how the sisters adjust to having a human s/o? like what are some quirks they've had to get used to/what do they find odd about the things humans do now that they live with one!

thank you!!

Hi, hon! :) Awhh, absolutely! :)

Let’s get into it🙌🥳

Masterlists

Bela

Out of all the three sisters, Bela is the most understanding of you and human nature

She’s wiser than most, using her immortality and spare time to educate herself on many matters that pick her interest

One of them, the human body

Where her sisters struggle, she often excels, or at the very least performs slightly better

She has more information on humans than them, and especially cares to learn more about them

She knows how to treat the staff and even picks up a little regarding their wants and needs

She knows humans are- naturally- more fragile

There’s so many things to harm them, blades and weapons, catastrophes and fire, even the cold, too

They prove easy to bruise, their poor little bones breaking as easily as toothpicks under her touch

She would never want this to be your fate, though

In her time, she has learned to adapt, thankfully long before even meeting you

Out of her sisters, she’s best at controlling her strength, which she proves on a daily

She’s especially careful around you

You know, Bela would never want to harm you, and she never would

She also has the biggest knowledge on humans out of her sisters, ranging not only from their fragile nature, but their appetites, too

That being said, she isn’t always keeping it in mind

After all, it’s been so long, decades of only being with her sisters and mother

Decades of sharing their prey, corpses and animals, the meat often and usually raw, even

As such, it’s up to you to keep an eye out occasionally, as she will sometimes mindlessly offer you a glass of blood or blood wine or a plate of raw meat

She doesn’t mean anything bad by it, and of course would never want you to eat or drink it

That doesn’t mean she isn’t forgetful, too used to being around her sisters and mother only

If you want to prevent eating any of that and spending a good hour puking it back up, you should check the food and drinks she offers you and ask her what it is

Still, she will always hold you and apologise with a flushed face when she forgets about your diet

This was especially a problem in the beginning, but as time goes on, Bela becomes better at reminding herself of your limits when feeding you

She keeps a notebook of your favorite foods, often even seeing to it that you get those

Sometimes, she even agrees to try some

More importantly, she keeps a list of all food humans should not be eating, as well as notes on any allergies you might have and such

As such, food is not a problem in time

What truly caught Bela off guard, especially at the start, is your body temperature, though

While her own is nearly constantly cold, as is her skin, it came as a surprise when she first felt your touch

Of course, she realistically knows that others have warm bodies. Even Alcina’s body and touch is significantly warmer than Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’s

It still surprised her, though

As such, the first time you hold her hand she jumps and swarms wildly, completely caught off guard

The rest of the day you laid on top of her, letting her curl against you and use you as a personal heater

This, she still likes to do, especially in winter

She hates that she can’t quite produce warmth without help

You’re more than happy to keep her warm

Cassandra

In a way, humans are a lesser life form to her

Slower, destructive, treacherous, hardly durable

They’re prey

And she’s a predator

They’re playthings

A game to her, her pets kept in the basement, awaiting her arrival with dread

They make good puppets to test out her tools, good little things she can take her frustrations out on

As such, she usually doesn’t bother studying them too closely, nor even interacting with them

Medically speaking though, Cassandra knows plenty of humans

She is a skilled woman, after all

And as she loves to torture and explore one’s limits, she does have a vast knowledge of humans

Only medically speaking, though

Still, it comes in useful

Most fatal wounds, Cassandra can stitch for you

She knows your body well, knows its limits and how to fix your fatal wounds should you ever get in the situation of being wounded like this

A smaller wound, though…?

Well, she knows how to treat cuts

Bruises, not so much

She’s never bothered learning about that, butchering up her victims to the limit and stitching them back together, usually

Thankfully, due to this knowledge of hers, she’s not too surprised about how very easy it is for you to get hurt

That doesn’t mean she wasn’t surprised by parts of it, though

Such as how easy you are to bruise

Often, she needs to adjust her own strength, fearing she might hurt you

Her hands aren’t made for gentleness, she’s sure…

As such, you often experience feather light touches from her, too scared any firmness could mean a broken limb

You reassure her, it’s okay

She can’t quite allow herself to be too comfortable

She would never want to hurt you, despite her sadistic nature

Only in time does she find the balance to it, holding you tight but never too tight, never too light

Alas, this was only a part of what surprised her

No, her biggest shock comes in the form of your scent

Of course, the huntress is familiar with the scent of human

Maidens, or villagers or poor, lost little humans straying and getting lost in the forest, that is

Not the scent of you at random times throughout the day

At least once a day you find yourself pinned down upon entering her room, like an intruder at her territory

She doesn’t understand

Humans adapt new scents so very quickly, sadly

As such, you make it a point to build up a routine of sorts

The same shampoo and body wash. Either never using perfume, or always the exact same one

When you hug someone aside from Cassandra, you’re certain you will be tackled again

She feels bad for it, too

And still, relying on her somewhat feral instincts is in her nature

At least, in time, both of you can adapt to this

You even find it somewhat endearing, your girlfriend pouncing like a wolf when you come too close and are too out of sight for her to set her eyes on you

If only you didn’t bruise so easily, you’d surely find it more endearing

And lastly, your habits and limits

While being better at caring for a human than Daniela, Cassandra often forgets that you aren’t quite like her

As such, she’ll occasionally ask for you to bite at her neck, or bite at yours a tad too hard and cause bleeding that she’s fast to tend to

Usually with an adorably embarrassed facade, too

Something she often likes to forget are your physical limits

She likes to play with you, either chasing you or going hunting with you

During this, she forgets your stamina is nothing compared to hers

While she can play for hours, run and swarm excitedly, your limit is reached far faster

You’re often doubled over, fed cups of water by her after having been chased by her for hours

You don’t mind, though

She always takes excellent care of you after, keeping you hydrated and allowing you a seat by the warm and comfortable spot by the fireplace at her room

Daniela

With Daniela, you move fast

Yours hers quickly, as she is yours

You know, there have been many human lovers in the past, and you know of what became of them

Alas, Daniela holds no more thoughts of them

You’re her everything

Her soulmate

She’s sure of it

Despite this, she doesn’t know all that much about humans

And, if you knew how many of her past lovers died, you’d likely be rather concerned

Daniela’s biggest problem is that she doesn’t quite know a lot about humans

In the past, lovers have often been forced to consume raw meat and blood, just like here

And you’re hardly any different, having been given meat and blood and wine, too

Thankfully, she listens when you tell her: humans can’t eat those things

That being said, she doesn’t understand

Being surrounded by her family, she doesn’t quite understand why you can’t eat what she eats

After all, she can eat what you eat, too, even if she doesn’t always like it

Still, she wants you to be safe, and she trusts you

She figures, you’ll know what to consume instead

To make up for her lack of knowledge, she likes to surprise you with your favorite foods sometimes, even sneaking a bite when she thinks you aren’t looking

Secondly, one of Daniela’s biggest problems is her strength and your vulnerability

She knows, humans are so very sensitive

Poor little humans, bruising and bleeding and breaking far too fast

Poor little Daniela, unable to control her strength properly at times

In the past, she’s often unintentionally hurt her lovers, breaking hands and fingers when holding them in hers, cutting up limbs and tearing skin with her claw-like nails

And poor Daniela always cried so terribly when it happened

She would never want to hurt you

Would never want to hurt her lovers

She wears her gloves around you nearly all the time, worried her sharp nails might nip your sensitive skin

Additional to that, she’s incredibly worried about harming you by misusing her strength

Your heart breaks as you notice this

She’s so clearly depraved and in need of affection, yet starves herself of it by worrying

As such, you hold her hand gently instead, squeeze and kiss it because you know she’s too scared to squeeze your hand back

You cuddle and and hold her gently, kiss her and let her cuddle up to you

In time, eventually, she grows a little more confident

Testing out and practicing the use of her strenght on random maidens and prisoners,-

she doesn’t dare practice on you, and her sisters and mother just don’t do, being as enduring as her

- Daniela eventually figures it out

While still occasionally worried about her strength, especially when she feels excited, she gets to hold you normally, now

And lastly, the other thing surprising her plenty

That being your weakened senses

Often, you’ll be cuddling when she shoots up

Her golden eyes wide, her head turning

If she was a cat, you’re sure her ears would be twitching and pointing up, listening

You don’t hear a thing

At other times you find her with her head hidden against your stomach, trying to escape whatever smell currently annoys her

Again, you don’t smell a thing

You don’t mind, though

In fact, it makes you giggle more often than not

That is, when she isn’t jumping up and clawing at the bed when she suddenly hears a noise at night, keeping both of you up

[cod-dump]

Open Door (teen!Ghost au)

———

This wasn’t the conversation he was imagining when Kate called him to talk about the kids. John expected it to be just a talk between friends, not business.

“Boys been doing well?”

“Been doing very well. And Farah has settled nicely.”

“She’s been looking at universities, hasn’t she?”

It started off normal. They were sipping tea in the back garden, enjoying the breeze in the shade. The boys were off at Johnny’s, no doubt causing mayhem. Not that the MacTavishes weren’t experts in chaos, John wasn’t worried about getting a phone call about his boys’ behavior from Mrs. Muriel MacTavish.

“I’ve been talking with the Shadow’s CO.”

John bristled at the mention of the mercenary. He looked at Kate, questioning why she would even bring him up when they were talking about their families.

“As you know, he’s become Gary’s full time guardian.”

“But?”

“But… he’s not quite… ready to handle a kid. Especially not one as young as Gary, or as traumatized.”

He didn’t like where this was going.

“He accepted being the kid’s guardian without being ready to take care of him when the need arises?”

“John, he didn’t expect to lose men coming here. With our operation, and, hell, even Nik’s, not it’s not a dangerous place.”

John could hear the unspoken words on the tip of her tongue.

“It’s- This isn’t my area of expertise-“

“Kate, just say it.”

Kate swallows, “Can you take in Gary? At least help care for him until Phillip can take him?”

John lets out a deep breath, there it was. He sets down his cup of tea and leans back, covering his eyes. Kate continued talking.

“After Simon’s transformation I have no higher recommendation for Gary’s care.”

“I have a dog, a cat, a fucking pigeon, three kids, and a Nik in my house.”

“You have the room. Plus Phillip will pay you for all of Gary’s needs and then some. He wants to come over as often as possible, too, to help in any way he can with him.”

John takes a breath before his uncovers his eyes and looks at Kate.

“You really can’t take him?”

“Annie is already doing twelve hour shifts and I’m running the office and helping Alex with his physical therapy and running him to his extracurricular activities. Like I said, after Simon? I no one else more capable that I trust to do this.”

“Oh fuck me- Fine! How much is he willing to pay?”

“£5’000 a month.”

John chokes as he sits up, “You’re joking-“

“No, sir. From my understanding, Phillip Graves is a very wealthy man and he doesn’t half ass anything.”

“Fuck… lead with the money, damn.”

Kate snorted, "Didn't take you as a greedy man, John."

John rolls his eyes, was he really agreeing to this? He wasn't doing as many 'jobs' as of late, mostly running to the office every month and doing surveillance of the town. Compared to how his life was years ago before Simon, he has a lot of free time. But he wasn't sure he was prepared to possible have another Simon in the home.

The hours that went into loving him and helping him get on his feet was worth it but... John wasn't sure he had another decade of that left.

"I'll send you Phillip's contact information so you two can start coming up with an agreement."

"I'm really doing this..."

"I'm not forcing you."

John glared and Kate rolled her eyes before continuing.

"I'm not forcing, just heavily persuading you."

"Forcing."

"Fine, forcing. This could give us a good in with Shadow CO. Besides, I forced you to care for Simon. Of course I dropped Kyle off at your door a few years after that. Do you regret that?

John didn't even have to think about it, "Never."

"Then give the poor kid a chance. I know you'll love him."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

The door opened and Annie called out.

"We're home! Hide the bank blueprints!"

John couldn't help but snort as Kate grinned and stood. She left into the kitchen to greet her wife and kid, giving John an opportunity to escape before he agrees to something else he's not entirely sure about. As he walked into the hall, he caught a glimpse of Alex darting down the hall to his room. Annie was having her coat taken from her by Kate, the woman having that same smitten look she had the day she met her.

Annie spotted John and grinned, "Hey, stranger. Feel like you've been avoiding me."

"You? Never. Her? I try."

Kate gave him a playful glare, "Leaving?"

"If I stay out too long Nik starts getting anxious. And with my boys it's infectious."

Annie gives an understanding nods, "Better not keep him waiting then. Oh! And before you go-"

Annie stepped away from Kate to grab a book from the shelf nearby. She handed it over and John immediately recognized it as a science workbook, "Kyle left this here the other day. I was going to have Alex give it to him at school Monday but he won't be there."

John fought the amused grin that tried to show itself. There was something so inherently sweet about Alex and Kyle's budding relationship.

"I'll make sure he gets it."

John managed to make it outside to his car before Kate stopped him.

"John-"

"I'm going to talk to Nik about it tonight, and you know he can't turn away a stray."

"You won't be able to back out then."

"Exactly why I have to tell him."

Kate smiled, "Tell him if you take in another kid that he has to stop trying to catch one of the neighborhood raccoons."

John laughed out loudly, "Oh, you know that won't happen."

They said tonight and John pulled out of the driveway, preparing himself for what was ahead of him. He thought back to when Simon was first brought home. He wasn't supposed to stay long but three weeks in John was ready to fight the world for him. Simon coming into his life was a blessing, Nik came along and apparently they were a package deal, and them being in his life opened the door to Kyle and then Farah.

He wasn't going to turn away Gary, and he wasn't going to turn away the man who was seemingly determined to do right by the kid. It was the right thing to do, reaching out for help, and John could overlook the fact that the man was a foreign mercenary for the sake of the child. John was hoping, even praying, that this wouldn't lead to anything. But considering what taking in Simon lead him to, he was too curious, maybe even eager, to see what else was brought into his life.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Odette and Clare with bodyguard reader hired by Carmilla to protect them only ending As something more.

Twin Tempations

Carmilla accepted nothing but the best.

Especially when it came to her daughters.

You went through several 'trails' and tribulations before Carmilla gave you the job, the woman instilling the deepest sense of duty and dedication into you before you even met the girls.

Clara was... unimpressed.

She worked besides her mother for decades, and put simply, her standards were exceptionally high so, well, she wasn't impressed.

She understood why you were hired.

Her mother hoped plenty of individuals for similar roles.

She just didn't agree with the decision.

Odette... didn't really care.

Yes, it was slightly demeaning that their mother felt the need to hire another bodyguard, but honestly, so long as you didn't get to big for your boots and get in the way, she wasn't all that bothered.

And so, after the greeting and usual back and forth, Clara being sure to let you know she doesn't think all that highly of you, you just acknowledging it, the girl unsure how to respond to your neutral exchange.

Your major duty was to follow the pair around as they handled various jobs for Carmilla.

From weapons shipments, to collecting stray angelic steel. Your duty being to stay by their side as they carried their duties out.

You of course, just followed them around, doing as you were told, usually resulting in you carrying around the bulk of materials for them.

Loose weapons, crates, baggage and just anything they couldn't be bothered to carry.

You would of course, do your duty as a bodyguard.

Or at least you'd try.

As while your presence alone would deter many creeps and sleeze bags that may have wished to prey on the pair of attractive young ladies, well, put bluntly, Clara wouldn't pass up on any chance to mark you 'redundant'.

And while her comments were almost constant, you'd just shrug it off, ignoring her snide comments while keeping up your professionalism, doing as you were told so long as they didn't do anything to actively endanger themselves.

You'd often find yourself helping in business, whether it be pulling a cart of munitions or simply holding the clipboard. Though even then, Clara was always adamant on checking it herself, determined to not let you 'screw it up'.

And well, despite her hostility, you fell into a routine.

You'd follow them around, helping with whatever job they'd been given.

And when not on the clock you'd train, working yourself hard, or oddly enough, find yourself hanging around Carmilla herself.

Now granted, Odette and Clara would both spend much of their time around her too, unless they were on a job, but when in Carmilla's 'Sanctuary', you'd often find yourself shadowing the woman, waiting for the girls to be sent out on a task.

Now your relationship with the girls would be... rocky... at best.

At least in the beginning.

Clara, as mentioned, was fairly bull headed, the woman a capable fighter in her own right, the demoness always sure to let you know she didn't need you.

She'd challenge you to countless duels, you always refusing to raise your hand to her.

You could take her snide and snippy comments. They were literally nothing compared to what Carmilla would do to you if she discovered you accidentally hurt her daughter while sparing.

And well, she really didn't respect you, seeing you as just another mindless goon sent to watch them work.

Odette on the other hand, was more hospitable.

Now she wasn't exactly your best friend, but she certainly wasn't hostile, the two of you able to hold a conversation without it turning into a one sided snide comment competition.

She didn't really see the need for you, especially with Clara at her side, but she honestly wasn't apposed to more security on their runs.

You'd actually discuss the business on many occasions, the young lady impressed with how much you knew on weapons design and angelic steel. Your mind far more of a steel blade as a posed to the dull hammer Clara propagated.

You'd of course wield those very weapons, so your knowledge was quite intimate in many regards.

Still, having the discipline and drive to use such weapons was nothing to scoff at, the weapons as much a danger to the weilder then it's potential target.

Your little tuff with Clara would come to ahead just after an extermination.

You'd be out collecting angelic steel.

Why would the daughters of one of the most powerful overlords in Hell personally be out collecting handfuls of steel, especially considering she'd have hundreds of souls under her control?

Clara mostly.

She loved field work. And Odette was always happy to get some work done, especially with her sister.

And well, you were kind of stuck with them.

But It'd be as you grabbed some steel, trying to lighten Clara's load, ya know, doing your job and caring for them that Clara would snap at you, telling you off that she could do it herself.

She'd go on, telling you she could more than protect herself and her sister, she didn't need some chump off the street to do what she'd been doing for years.

Odette would attempt to step in and defend you, but Clara wouldn't have it, screaming at you before storming off, breathing hard as she ignored her sisters calls.

With a sigh, you simply told Odette to finish up while you went after her.

Clara would be be marching away angrily, steps heavy as she marched down a decrepit street, the girl muttering and snarling to herself, about you, why do they even need you?! Why would mother give some random such a job?! Doesn't her mother know she's more then enough?!

She hated you. Hated how orderly. How polite. How disciplined you were. How Odette and even her MOTHER seemed to like you!

She hated you!

It was as she finally calmed down that she realised she was lost.

And with a sigh, she'd start walking around, trying to centre herself.

She'd quickly find herself in a decrepit alleyway, the girl freezing as a group of Sinners waltzed up to her.

Clara would tell them to fuck off as they cat called her, and despite her attempts to walk away, she'd find herself surrounded.

She didn't panic of course after all, she had... she... had... her weapons...

It was then that she realised that in her anger she'd thrown her weapon to the floor, leaving her defenceless.

And suddenly she understood why having a dedicated body guard may be a good thing.

She was no such pushovwr even without her weapons, but there were a Lot of them, the girl not sure how many of them she could take before they overwhelmed her.

And it was just as a man was about to reach her, a sinister smirk smeered across his face that his head would explode.

And before she could quite process it, you were suddenly before the girl, and you... you were magnificent.

You, quite literally, cut your way through the Sinners.

You putting those skills, and weapons, to good use as you cut and shot your way through the crowd, their numbers rapidly shrinking.

Rip and Tear!

It'd be as you went one on one with an especially large demon made a go at Clara that you'd be forced to jump in, defending the girl, but having your hand cut off for your effort.

Even with one hand missing, you still cut down the rest of the fucks before turning to her, checking on her

Clara would snap at you for asking if she was alright as your bloody stump dripped to the floor.

You'd tell her that didn't matter, you were her bodyguard. She was your priority. You didn't matter so long as she was alright.

She could see how genuine you were. How dedicated you were to her and your job.

And she felt... awful.

After a few moments, she'd apologise. Telling you how sorry she was for treating you so poorly, promising it would never happen again.

And much to her surprise, you just smiled, laughing actually before you reached out, gently brushing her hair back.

You telling her you appreciate it.

It wasn't necessary, but you really did appreciate it.

Clara would blush at that before laughing it off, punching your shoulder, telling you you should get back, you agreeing as you gripped your stump.

After that you and Clara were on much better terms, you two getting very close over the following days.

In fact Carmilla herself would notice how close you and Clara got over the next few months, even dualling on many occasions, the young lady learning more then a few tricks from you.

Of course you and Carmilla still spent time together, you often shadowing her in her day to day whenever you weren't out working with the girls or spending time with Clara.

But as you grew closer to Clara, you'd also strengthen your relationship with Odette. You'd accompany her on expeditions, works and research works.

And while you were always friendly, it never really breached a professional arrangement.

That was until one particular resource shipment.

You were supposed to pick up some very important materials from a new supplier.

Unfortunately this supplier was a stupid piece for shit, and tried to just gun you down and take the money.

Of course, you wouldn't allow her to fall to any harm.

Though unfortunately for you, the bastards who betrayed you happened to have one of Carmillas very own carbines, attempting to take out Carmillas daughter.

Of course you didn't let that happen, acting as a human shield, taking the bullet as you protected the girl, recieving a ruthless gut wound, and since it was an angellic bullet it did serious damage, you struggling to protect the girl as you git her the fuck out of there.

You sluggishly picking off several goons before you managed to get her out, the two of you stranded for several hours, Odette doing her best to dress your wound, the two of you sharing a surprisingly light hearted moment before you managed to contact Carmilla and get a pick up.

Now Carmilla would be slightly erked at the turn of events, she would understand that the situation was out of your control.

And given your harsh wound protecting her daughter the woman would spend a small fortune tending to you.

Clara especially defending you, not that she really needed too, but it was nice to see the girl warm to you.

Carmilla caught off guard by Odettes rather harsh defence of you, the girls almost zelous defence of you clearly inspired by your selfless act, the girl actually hostile towards her mother for the very first time.

A first for both women.

So after backing off, you and Odette would enter a new balance in your relationship.

A balance that would rapidly become lopsided as Odette and Clara would begin vying for your attention.

Clara through sparing, the two of you dueling or debating your choice in weapons.

While Odette would talk shop, the two of you discussing weapons development, or just having a casual chat on Carmillas business empire.

It really didn't matter what you were talking about, so long as the two of you were close and chatting they were happy.

The three of you getting closer and closer, you and Clara bonding over your mutual combat experience, while your wit and intellect rapidly sharpened with Clara.

Funnily enough, despite the clashes in personality and Claras usually blunt personality, it would be Odette who confessed first.

The studios girl admitting that she was infatuated with you, the girl asking to perhaps become more.

You'd of course take a day to think.

Though having time to think wasnt a luxury you were granted as the second Clara found out about her sisters confession, the girl would confess herself, the headstrong young lady confessing as she pretty much pinned you down mid duel.

Of course she only pinned you down because you let her, the girl rather blunt as she told you you meant a great deal to her and... and she wanted you.

And that's how you found yourself pinned between two headstrong daughters of one of the most prominent Overlords on Pride.

You were of course split between the two, you not wanting to hurt either, but knowing that choosing one would devastate the other.

But funnily enough, the decision would also be yanked from your hands.

The two would discover the others confession, tearing at each other.

Funnily enough, having to step in to divide the two would result in them demanding you choose.

And so, you snapped, scolding the two, stopping the sisters from fighting, demanding they settle down or else you won't choose either of them.

And funnily enough, they did settle down, the power shifting drastically into your favour in a shocking display of power.

The girl's would take up a new stance, both doing their best to seduce you, though in rapidly different manners.

Odette doing so by leaning heavily into the simple yet affectionate way you interacted, relishing the time you spent together, Odette far more playful, not missing a chance to seduce you. Though even then, she couldn't help but be the adorable dork you held so fondly.

Clara on the other hand was faaaaar more physical.

It actually being during a rather rough sparing session that she'd sweep you off your feet, pinning you down, the girl all smiles as she rather seductively demanded you choose her or her sister.

It'd be after a week of the two fighting for you, constantly arguing and snapping at the other that you'd finally snap, telling them you'd date them both, and that's how it'd be.

And much to your surprise, they agreed.

And that's... well, that's how you ended up as both the bodyguard and the S/O of the two daughters of Carmilla Carmine.

It actually worked out surprisingly well.

You spending time with each of them in their own element.

You and Clara duelling, sparing and enjoying each other physically.

While enjoying Odettes intellect in person, the two of you having many a 'stimulating' conversation, the girl not at all hesitant to tell you she wanted you.

You'd do your best to keep this new dynamic under wraps, not wanting Carmilla to discover your new relationship with not just one, but both of her daughters.

As even if you and Carmilla held a level of mutual respect, that was not a fun prospect on your part.

And keeping up your usual relationship with the woman, the two of you speaking after a job, or even duelling, the Matriarch of her slice of Hell going out of her way to see your consistency, as well as testing your skills.

Your dynamic with the girls would, oddly enough, develope smoothly.

You and Clara bonding and developing in the field, you and the young lady often competing in a playful manner, playing off each other strengths, more then happy to compete with each other's strengths, even if you openly placed her safety over your own.

While you would happily go toe to toe with the feisty Clara, you and Odette happily played off each other, the young woman easily, almost scarily, able to set the scene to dominate you, easily getting you beneath her as she showed off that cunning intelligence.

Your relationships would steadily grow more and more intimate, Clara and Odette having their own, and yet powerful hold over you, both women happy to tease and draw you in, and always dominating you, yet never taking the power from you, happy to make it so you were in control, yet never more then when you were a simple bodyguard.

You'd find yourself in more and more intimate situations with the pair, both Clara and Odette demanding a certain style of... smooching~

You'd end up in a very compromising situation after a particularly stressful mission, you single-handedly defending Odette from a gang of hoodlums.

And dragging you back home, the girl giving Carmilla a hasty debrief on what happened before she'd drag you to her room for a quick 'discussion', the girl instead tying your arms behind you, rather aggressively smooching you as you lay back in one of her chairs, the girl sat on your lap as she unleashed her less then subtlely pent up arousal upon you.

And it'd be as she shoved her tongue down your throat, hands gliding over your form, that Carmilla would knock on the door, asking to speak with Odette.

Of course the girl would freak, hurriedly shoving your clothes into your hands before all but forcing you out through a hidden exit.

You'd stumble from her room, stumbling into the hallway just around the corner from her room as you desperately slid your pants on.

Just managing to get dressed, you stumble along, hopping as you furiously buttoned up your shirt. And reaching further down the Hall, intent on putting space between you and Odettes room.

Only to stumble upon a monolith of a demon.

Zestial.

The tall, slender, green and black demon overlord staring down at your for several moments before a wicked, almost wicked, smirk crossed his face.

He'd release a sinister chuckle, the man sighing softly as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Oh... young love. Sweet as wine, bitter as... well, a wine."

The ancient overlord giggled, the man gently combing your hair back before simply turning, waltzing away, leaving you a shocked, terrified lil demon, you hurriedly scurrying off the second Zestial was out of frame.

Of course, running off to the other daughter, Clara was just as bad. And finding you in only your tight, form fitting, crotch hugging pants.

Clara finding that very interesting~

The two of you hanging in her room.

And by 'haning' I mean she also strapped you to a chair, though this time the young lady had cuffs for it.

Why did she just have a chair and cuffs prepared for you?

That's not important.

But you would grow closer and closer to the pair, though Carmilla seemed intent on breaking up any chance you had to go past a uh, certain barrier.

But it wouldn't be until one sparring match, Carmilla wanting to do a 'live practice', i.e. the two of you using actual angelic weapons in a serious duel, the two of you going at it.

You'd hold nothing back, the woman leaving several nicks and shallow cuts on your body.

While that would be a major fuck up for most, considering Carmillas skills and your own extensive training, you considered yourself more then capable.

It'd be as you fought her off yet again, that the Matriarch would pi you to the wall, her angelic steel heels dangerously close to your throat as she stared you down.

And with a stern gaze the woman would tell you bluntly, she knew.

You'd freeze, able to use the moment to throw her off.

She'd stare you down, telling you bluntly that she knows your having relations with her daughters.

You'd stay there for a long moment before sighing.

You knew if she wanted to kill you she would have already, so, you went clean.

You told her that you didn't know how, or why, but the woman's daughters took an intimate interest in you.

You didn't know how you were blessed to earn their affection but you were, and while you completely understood the woman's trepidation towards you, you swore you'd never do anything to harm them.

Those girls were your very life.

Your reasons to exist.

And while they liked to act like it were a game, you took it seriously.

You loved them, as strange of a dynamic as it was, the two girls meant the world to you, and while you'd gladly give your life for them you'd ask the Matriarch to spare you.

Not for your sake, but for the girls.

Knowing full well if the woman simply killed you it'd not only break their heart but destroy her relationship with the girls.

Carmilla showed no expression, staring you down for several moments before humming.

She'd let you off with a cold stare, telling you while she wasn't fond of her daughters competing for the same person, let alone that person being their supposed bodyguard, she respected your grit, admiring your willingness to hold true to your duty and serve her daughters equally, despite the emotional ties.

She'd tell you she'd respect herr daughter choice in partner, but put bluntly, if you hurt either of them, she'd neuter you like a dog.

And with that terrifying note, you begun an oddly intimate relationship dynamic with the girls.

While initially the dynamic consisted of the two girls competing over you, it quickly morphed into an oddly intimate threeway dynamic, both girls acknowledging you as their natural partner, the two reaching a truce as they both pursued you.

And with Carmillas unspoken blessing, your dynamic bloomed into a surprisingly soft and intimate relationship, the three of you becoming an adoring, intimate trio, finding ahealthy balance and loving each other warmly.

You, Odette and Clara all bound into a loving, warm and deeply intimate relationship, the three of you holding a deeply loving bond as the sisters mutually agreed to pursue you.

An odd dynamic to be sure, but no doubt an equally loving and intimate one.

[jiheiendonka7]

the mischaracterization of jun wu by western tgcf fans, an epidemic

to illustrate with a metaphor, jun wu resembles the duality of a crying-smiling mask. while most western tgcf fans already seem to overlook the smiling half completely, i notice a trend of reducing even the crying half into nothing more than “unadulterated hatred toward xie lian".

this often results in takes -- such as jun wu doing xie lian favours so he can make xie lian feel indebted or bestowing symbols of xie lian’s country to provoke painful memories -- that can only be explained with an "evil for the sake of being evil" tag on jun wu, takes that don't make sense when scrutinized within the context of jun wu's purpose.

so what was this guy's grand objective, anyway? he wanted xie lian to come to his side. (and to limit the scope of this discussion, we're not even going to open the pandora's box of the smiling side -- a yearning for validation of the crown prince of wuyong's dreams. that will be a post for another time.) honing in on the crying side, jun wu wanted xie lian to become the second white-clothed calamity, to agree that the common people suck, that they aren't worth saving, and that he should just give up on his dream.

what exactly does making xie lian feel indebted to him achieve? it's not like he expects xie lian to come to his side as a form of debt repayment. if the argument is that jun wu's actions aim solely to degrade xie lian or cause him suffering, this view feels like a significant mischaracterisation. jun wu isn't the type of antagonist who torments xie lian at every opportunity simply for the sake of cruelty.

likewise, reducing jun wu’s replication of the xianle palace to a mere attempt to inflict pain oversimplifies the nuances at play. the glamorous xianle palace stands in juxtaposition to xie lian's humble puqi shrine. i argue that jun wu sought to present xie lian with a tangible vision of why his path -- the path of grandeur and power -- was superior.

curiously, mxtx's pen name means "the smell of copper coins and the fragrance of ink" because she wanted to major in literature while her mother wanted her to pick economics, for the latter secured a more prosperous career. ultimately, they agreed on the best of both worlds, "holding a pen in one hand and coins in the other", the third path.

but jun wu had suggested that xie lian become his right-hand man (when preparing to greet the rain master), and from the deal he was willing to cut yin yu, we can infer that if xie lian really came to jun wu's side, he would've helped cover all of his crimes. they would pretend as if nothing had happened, just as jun wu did all these years, hiding behind glitter and gold, masking away all the decadence beneath the surface.

the gilded palace is a reflection of such a path. it's a reminder of what could've been -- if only xie lian kept "pleasing the gods", wearing the mask, turning a blind eye to the suffering of the mortals and corruption of the officials. if only xie lian had chosen jun wu's path, the one beaten by so many who came before.

but that's inauthentic. that's not who xie lian is. xie lian rejects the mask because he wants to be himself. he'd rather live in shambles than accept the riches of the heavens, than choose coins with no soul. even if there is a wall straight ahead, xie lian will walk right into it if that's where the third path leads, because he refuses to veer left or right, to choose either one of two (that's actually where the proverb that inspired the head-smashing scene originates from, by the way).

jun wu doesn’t act out of a simple desire to witness xie lian’s suffering. seeing xie lian in pain brings him no joy. after all, bai wuxiang once hugged him. half of what jun wu does serves to draw xie lian to his side, to mould him into the perfect successor who will follow his path. that, at least, is the crying half of jun wu's intent.

[crooked-wasteland]

The court scene in hazbin leaks seemed empty .

Lute had no arguments, she was yelling in void, the seraphim and female stolas were just there waiting for plot to happen, Sera answer to anything lute saying was "shut up" literally, which isn't only unprofessional for a governor to do but also it helped at portraying lute as crazy hysterical woman no one respect without the presence of her man.

If hazbin hotel was really interested in discussing the concept of good and evil then here's the right moment, we could take this scene as opportunity to talk about the the justice, lute should represent the concept of the justice is inflexible only bound to the rules that kept people safe for decades . her arguments is that they are currently in war with hell and they can't let a sinner in might be dangerous he might attend some harm upon them or play the role of spy for the morningstars . Emily or stolas-evil-twin or anyone, will represent the concept that there's no justice without mercy and rules should have an exception for cases like this their argument is his sin didn't come from malicious place but rather from a genuine fear so is his act of redemption and therefore we have right to assume that his soul is inherently good and he attends no harm and we should welcome him in heaven .

And I remember a saying in writing goes like :"write an argument where everyone seems to win"(I forgot the actual quote) and I think this one of the scene where we should apply that in order for scene to have a depth

I agree, except on the account of Lute's argument being pointless. Unfortunately, you need the other leak of Seraph talking to Able and the one of Vox to grasp the points being made.

Major spoilers incoming!

The argument Lute makes in the courtroom is nonsensical because we were never given the information. At the start of the season, Charlie has a fairytale book of her parents and it mentions Lilith using music to rally demons against heaven. Vox says this explicitly in a reminder lore dump of 12 whopping seconds that Lilith was prepared to go to war with Heaven before vanishing.

So there's that aspect of the world we never had mentioned or hinted at in the main series. It would have actually helped a lot with incorporating Lilith's army waiting for her in Happy Day in Hell. It also could have been tied back to Rosie and her cannibals. Maybe hinting at the Rosie and Lilith connection more appropriately, or at least opening the idea that Lilith had an army waiting on her still.

Additionally, Seraph mentions how Hell will "want revenge". So even if Hell wasn't a threat before, her greenlighting a genocide is going to make peace a relative impossibility. It's inevitable for Hell to fight back, so now Heaven has to figure out if they will risk their own safety by ending the cullings, or continue and admit they are oppressors keeping Hell weak intentionally. It would make the suggestion of redemption unappealing, regardless of being possible.

But the issue the series will have to patch over is the idea that Sinners would want to be redeemed if it wasn't for Heaven's yearly census shaving. The conflict in the pilot was that Sinners wouldn't want to be redeemed. The exorcists were actually a believable motivation for why anyone would even consider redemption when you have the right to suffer and cause suffering forever in Hell. The issue of the Sinners' immortality questioning how the show is going to believably instill the idea that the discomfort of staying the same is going to outweigh the discomfort of change. And the exorcists seem, frankly, necessary to maintain the pressure on Hell to give Charlie a chance. Meanwhile, maintaining a genocide is going to turn away people who are probably good at their core. The pressure of being oppressed will leave them nowhere to go and without options that don't in some way contradict their own values.

So the story is actually focused on the major plot issue for once. However it isn't staying there. Then we have to remember the sneak peek Medrano shared of Baxter and how the concept of Redemption at all is what is being challenged. Not if Redemption is desirable. So that is where the two sides of the story lose cohesion. Honestly, the Heaven storyline will be far stronger than the story taking place amongst the actual main characters. And between the Baxter/Alastor/Lute reveals, I'm wondering what time there is left to even tell any story about the main character. Once again, we're looking at too many plot threads not being given enough time to expand.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday! Hope its great! The Untamed please? Its one of my favorite fandoms you've gotten me into 🥰

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38

Mo Xuanyu is married to the Second Jade of Lan.

Song Lan had known she’d married into the Lan – it was obvious – but he’d thought it was some not so bright cultivator that had been bewitched by her pretty face, or possibly literally bewitched, which he’d already decided wasn’t any of his damn business. If some stupid Lan wants a terrifying and amoral demonic cultivator for a wife, then good luck to them. Except they obviously don’t know she’s a demonic cultivator, considering their clan’s history with the original. But again, not his business, not his problem. His first priority is Xiao Xingchen and if Mo Xuanyu is going help him, then he really doesn’t care about who she’s terrorizing in her spare time.

Except it appears he’d underestimated her.

Because she’s apparently Jin Xuanyu now, legitimized and married off to the second most eligible bachelor in the cultivation world, superseded only by his brother who’s been unofficially off the market for over a decade.

Hanguang Jun had lived as a widower and Song Lan had been convinced he was going to die as one. Uncharitably, he wonders if maybe Lan Wangji just has a type, then feels bad about it in the next moment.

She orders Sect Leader Lan around and he lets her. She glares Hanguang Jun down.

To say absolutely nothing of the way she’d taken down Xue Yang. And then given him that dubious honor of taking credit for the kill, likely because she didn’t want to try and explain to her family how she’d managed it.

She had been clever and dangerous as a teenager. She’s managed to vault herself from disgraced bastard daughter to wife of the heir to the Lan and the legal mother to the third in line who will likely be the one actually succeeding Lan Xichen.

Jin Xuan – Xuanyu is a friend. She has very firmly shown herself to be a friend, helping him and protecting Xiao Xingchen and showing what certainly looks like genuine kindness to the girl who’d helped them, A-Qing.

Possibly she’s done all this to ensure their silence over what she used to be, what she is, but if so then it’s been successful. Betrayal would be a poor repayment for everything she’s done. The Lan hadn’t helped him or Xiao Xingchen. She had. The Lan can take care of themselves and if they can’t withstand the machinations of one woman, they deserve what they get.

Xiao Xingchen hasn’t said much, and Song Lan owes him so many apologies, but not here in front of everyone. He at least agrees to fly with him without much fuss. It will be difficult for him to fly with all three of them for any significant distance, but A-Qing asks Xuanyu to fly with her and she agrees with a smile.

Lan Sizhui doesn’t seem particularly thrilled, but he apparently is far too respectful of his step mother to disagree with her.

They’re flying back the inn when Xiao Xingchen presses himself back against his chest and tilts his head back to say, “Song Lan.”

It’s been so long since he’s heard Xiao Xingchen say his name. He has to swallow before he says, “Yes?”

“That’s,” he starts, then stops. “Who was that?”

“Who?” he asks. “We’re traveling with the Lans.”

“The woman,” he says.

His lips tug down into a frown but he tries not to panic. He’s been under charms to confuse and dull his senses for months. “That was Mo Xuanyu.”

If he’s already confused, getting into her legitimization probably won’t help anything.

Xiao Xingchen is silent for a few more moment. Then he asks, “Are you sure?”

What on earth. “Who else would she be?”

“She moves like – and sounds – but. It can’t. She’s – different,” he says.

As wonderful as it is to hear him speaking, Song Lan wishes he were saying less worrying things. “It’s been a long time since we saw her last. She’s grown up and married. Of course she’s different.” He squeezes his arms around Xiao Xingchen’s waist, hoping it’s not too presumptuous when they haven’t discussed anything yet. “It’s okay, after everything that’s happened this all must feel very sudden. Xuanyu is the one that found you. We can trust her.”

He thinks they can trust her. They can trust her more than any other sect cultivator, which granted isn’t saying much.

Xiao Xingchen relaxes against him. “Alright. If you say so.”

[akashis-waifu]

An Eternity of Mind Games with You (Aizen Sousuke x Reader)

Canon-divergence one-shot, set years after TBYW. Female reader is the Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough. Your first name is "Hana" for plot-purposes.

Tags: Domestic!Aizen with usual sass, wholesome, fluff, cringe but we embrace it. Immortal x immortal, enemies struggling with new established co-dependency. This might seem slightly out of character, but we've got Kyoka Suigetsu to blame. Contains spoilers on the ending of TBYW and CFYOW!

"Oh please, dear wife."

You raise an eyebrow at your self-proclaimed husband. The two of you have only been together for a decade as Lord and retainer — co-rulers, if you squint hard enough — after Aizen Sousuke tricked you into absorbing the Hougyoku, which apparently had long merged with his spirit. In effect, the man became a part of the Soul King and is now able to use your authority, as long as you agree to it.

In return, you get to wield one of the greatest Zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu. You see it as an absolute win, the Central 46 doesn't.

As to why Aizen insists that you two are husband and wife, he argues that "A system where a man and a woman govern together is called monarchy. And it goes without saying that a King and a Queen are married." He seems to have put the cart before the horse, a very uncharacteristic blunder for the renowned war criminal. You simply guess that the fusion might have caused him brain damage.

"I swear, I haven't used Kyoka Suigetsu for a long time. There is literally no reason for you to act delusional."

He feigns to be hurt at your words. "You are the king, I am the queen. How can we not be married?"

"It's crazy how you easily admit to being the queen now." During your ascension, you had to repeatedly remind him that the Soul King was you. If he insisted on his god-complex-driven monarchy delusion, the Queen would be him.

Aizen shrugs. "As the human saying goes, let me cook."

Chills run down your spine. Something is wrong. "Maybe I'm the delusional one."

"Took you a long time to realize."

A shattering sound awakens you. After adjusting to reality, you glare at Aizen Sousuke who has successfully swiped the two Heavenly Tickets out of your hand.

"Please stop using Kyoka Suigetsu on me."

He chuckles mockingly. "You have a funny mind, I can't help it."

You try to take the tickets from him. Those are your mode of transportation to Seireitei! "It's Rukia's inauguration today. We really need to go!"

"You can go by yourself."

"I can't leave you here alone!"

Aizen smiles. He knows that it is a matter of distrust — that he might destroy the Soul Palace in your absence — but teases you nonetheless. "What a caring wife you are."

"Is the illusion not over yet?"

"My apologies. I'm simply not in the mood to head to Seireitei today," he explains briefly, before turning around. "Feel free to go without me."

You watch with curious eyes as Aizen leaves the room. He has undoubtedly mellowed out compared to 10 years ago. Memories flash through your mind.

At the end of the war, you were supposed to absorb Yhwach, become the Soul King, and be sacrificed as the new linchpin of the Three Realms. If Aizen hadn't given you the Hougyoku that granted your divinity as the Soul King, you wouldn't have gained the authority to banish Hyosube Ichibe.

If it weren't for Aizen, you would've been mutilated into a thoughtless doll. You may not express it, but you are eternally grateful to him.

Standing at the edge of the Soul Palace, you stare at the boundless sky below. It is almost time for your departure.

"He tells me to go by myself, but he knows I hate jumping all the way down to Soul Society. He could have at least returned my ticket to me." You sigh and jump anyway.

Upon arriving at Seireitei, you use Kyoka Suigetsu to disguise yourself as a white butterfly. You dispel the Shikai after reaching the 13th Division.

"Hana-san! Ah, I mean, Soul King!" Kuchiki Rukia hastily corrects herself. She then invites you to a celebratory dinner and you spend some time with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

The party ends late. Rukia offers the Kuchiki residence for you to spend the night in, but you decline, worried that someone might wreak havoc in your palace if left alone for too long.

She suggests to escort you to Shiba Kuukaku's hideout, aware that you would need the cannon to return to the Soul Palace. Still, you refuse, "No no! No need. It's already late, Rukia, go to sleep. I usually disguise myself as a harmless butterfly when I go around Seireitei to avoid unnecessary attention. Don't worry!"

On the way to the hideout, you feel that you're being followed. You instantly regret declining her offer.

When Aizen finds you in the middle of Seireitei, you are already bleeding from a large cut on your torso. He rushes to your side and activates the Hougyoku to accelerate your healing. As if to laud his effort, you soon regain consciousness.

"Aizen...?" you ask, vision still blurry. "What are you doing here? I... I thought you didn't want to go."

"You're not adept at using Kyoka Suigetsu yet. An incident like this is bound to happen."

"I see," you chuckle weakly. "No wonder she saw through my disguise."

His grip on your shoulder tightens. "Who was it?"

"Candace."

"Candace?"

You cough out blood multiple times and reach out to caress his cheek, as if ready to utter your last words — which would be if he doesn't take the joke lightly.

"Can deez nuts."

Aizen deadpans. A shattering sound takes him out of his reverie, and he looks over his shoulder to see you fiddling with the tickets that he had previously hidden in his sleeves.

Of course, the whole farce was an illusion. He should've known since the Hougyoku grants instant regeneration. He sighs in annoyance. "I'd like to take the Hougyoku back. You're too insufferable."

"Is that a request for divorce?"

He smirks. "So, you acknowledge our marriage."

"Hell no!" You click your tongue, frustrated that he always has the perfect comebacks. "Can't you act normal for once? What happened to Aizen Sousuke, the war criminal?"

"You prefer that version of me?" He pushes his hair back. You aren't used to that sight since he always has his hair down when you're alone together.

You visibly cringe. "Stop doing that. What would you do if people recognized you?"

"We're using Kyoka Suigetsu. From their perspective, we are nothing but butterflies attracted to beautiful flowers basking in the moonlight."

You frown at him. "We're literally walking on concrete. Not a single flower can be found here."

"There is."

Aizen raises your chin, staring directly into your eyes. "Hana."

Too stunned to speak, you allow yourself a moment to think.

You finally understand why Aizen was so popular when he was still with the Thirteen Court Guard Squads. His strength, intellect, charisma — the sultry voice and handsome features that you will never admit to his face — he used everything at his disposal to manipulate everyone.

It will never work on you, though. Not today, nor in a million years.

You are good, he is evil. You are yang, he is yin.

You are pure, he is corrupted.

The Soul King can never let Aizen Sousuke dye Her in his color, for that would mean the end of the Three Realms.

You give him a thin smile. "Would you like the Hougyoku back? I can hand it to you now."

"Oh, you jest." Aizen feels the sudden shift in mood and lets you go. That's enough teasing, he muses to himself.

With an eternity to look forward to, he doesn't mind biding his time. You are the Soul King, the strongest, most benevolent, and most dangerous being in the Three Realms. It goes without saying that you are the greatest challenge he will ever face. It could take hundreds or thousands of years — even millions — but he knows that you will submit to him one day.

It's not a matter of if, but when.

You extend a hand at him. "Let's go home, Sousuke."

But, he has to make sure you don't win him over first.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Also again no pressure to write but you know I'm a sucker for a happy end and for Lorcan so his sister being mad at him kills me 😭💜😂

I knew you would fall victim to this😂

Part I here

The light we cannot see II

His ego was bigger than he was. Not an amazing asset to have at times. So Lorcan stuck to what he knew best. Beating the life out of a practice dummy as if there was no tomorrow. Letting his anger flow through him. Growling at himself each time the punch didn’t meet his standards. “You will harm yourself”, the voice made Lorcan jolt slightly. His nostrils flared as he looked at the man he least wanted to see. “If I was you I would go the fuck away”, he grunted, turning back to throw another punch.

“She’s back, safe and sound in her room. Thought you might want to know that”, Rowan tapped his hand on the doorway arch, before inching to step out of the training grounds. “Why?”, Lorcan called out into the night. His back was to Rowan but he could tell that the male stalled as well. “Why her? Even more so how and fucking when?”, turning in full force Lorcan glared at the male who was oozing calmness. “I can’t help my heart, I wanted her from the moment I saw her”, Rowan stated firmly. “Is it only your heart?”, it was a low dig. Out of them all Rowan was the last to sleep around. “I haven’t had sex with your sister if that’s your way of asking”, Rowan started, “I’ve been seeing her for a couple of months. She hasn’t even agreed to be mine, not until you approve”. Lrocan swallows thickly. Eyes burning into Rowan. He wanted to hate him. To find nothing but bitter frustration. “You know Maeve and you willingly put her in danger”, Lorcan points a finger at Rowan. “Don’t you think that it keeps me up at night? You think I’m not scared for her?”, now the tone picks up as he steps closer to Lorcan. “News flash, that thought alone kept me away from her for decades but I can’t…”, Rowan’s voice dies down, “I…”, his eyes burn into Lorcan and he knows exactly where this is going. Knows that if that word leaves his mouth then no power will be on his side.

“I think she’s my mate”, Rowan runs a hand through his hair. And Lorcan can see the tremor there. “She doesn’t know and I won’t just drop it on her but… I… Put yourself in my shoes, Lorcan”, Rowan shakes his head. Lorcan closes his eyes letting his head drop. The silence stretches between them. “She is the only good thing that came out of our fucked up family, Rowan”, the males stand there looking at each other, “She is too good for this world, and if you…”, “I would rather take my own life than watch her hurt”, Rowan cuts in, “I love your sister. I want to give her everything”. Lorcan simply nods. “I hate you, for now at least”, the dark wielder point out, dropping his gloves he slips out of the training room.

He stands outside your door for almost an hour. Losing the number of times he had lifted his fists to knock on your door and backed out. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t take back the things he says. He’s never wrong. But it’s different when it comes to you. “For fuck sake, just come in”, the door swings open, your tiny frame barely filling the frame. “How did you…”, he trails off before his sibling instinct prickles as well. A gift your mother had left you on her dying bed.

“What do you want?”, you grunt, crossing your arms over your chest. “I talked with Rowan”, he hopes that would win him extra words to say before you’re kicking him out but your expression doesn’t change. “I’m sorry about what I said”, he sighs, “I… I shouldn’t have brought our mother’s fate into this. You’re not her and Rowan isn’t our father”, he states firmly. Your sadness crushed his soul as he watched your sad eyes. “I understand your fears but…”, you trail off shaking your head.

“I know and I am sorry”, he reaches out, pulling at your hand, “You know that I’m a bastard. I suck at communicating”. You huff, “Tell me about it”, “I just want you to be happy and if Rowan makes you happy then so be it”, Lorcan squeezes your hand. “I’m still pissed at you”, you point a warning finger at him before letting yourself be pulled into his arms. “I’m selfish, I don’t want to share my light with anyone else”, Lorcan kisses the top of your head. “Just because I found a partner doesn’t mean I’ll stop being your little sister”, you reach up flicking his nose. Lorcan rolls his eyes, “Maybe I should just ship you out to Rowan”, you let out a fake gasp, “Don’t threaten me with happiness”.

[pearlfeline]

in denial

pairing: draco malfoy x reader (supposed to be gender neutral pls lmk if there’s something i missed lol)

word count: 1,079 words

summary: speculations of draco being a death eater are something you deny without a second thought. nothing convinced you until he tells you himself.

warnings: minor violence??? nothing crazy idk if it counts as violence

a/n: severely ran out of ideas and idk what this is i made it out of frustration. WOOOOOO!!!!

Condensation trickled down the outside of your cup. You eyed it until it went all the way down, seeping into the wooden table.

“Cold butterbeer..” Hermione said with a small grin, sitting across from you. “Quite the choice, considering how it’s been practically freezing these past few days.”

“I like to chew on the blended ice.” You shrugged, smiling to yourself at how much Hermione considers your condition.

Hermione eyes you for a moment, pursing her lips almost as if she was holding back a question. If her thinking face was any more expressive, you could call yourself a mind reader.

“What is it now?” You didn’t mean to, but you couldn’t help but to huff out an exasperated sigh.

Hermione immediately shakes her head.

“I could be asking you that very question!”

“Where’s your mind at, Y/N?”

You look out the windows of The Three Broomsticks, hoping to catch a glimpse of Draco walking by, perhaps him even staring back at you. But he wouldn’t. Not this year. This was the year he dropped his prefect duties, was no longer right behind Hermione in his marks, and he stopped boasting about nonsensical things.

“You won’t like the answer… I’m sure of it.” You mumbled, taking a big swig from your glass.

“I didn’t ask because I wanted to hear something I like.” Hermione sighed.

Hermione knew if you were to hold back now, you would never reveal it later. There weren’t many times where Hermione and you get a lot of time without Harry and Ron. It’s either you tell Hermione or tell nobody.

“I think something’s wrong… with Draco.”

Hermione stiffened slightly, not entirely sure if she should remind you that he didn’t need your concern, or just listen to you to elaborate. “Well..?”

“All these years of teasing and torment… Just for it to end now.. I just don’t understand. He just looks so bleak.”

“I do agree with your last point, but I’m not sure if it’s anything to confront him about.” Hermione looks around before lowering her voice.

“On the train to Hogwarts, Harry was convinced Draco has become… a Death Eater.” She looks up with apologetic eyes.

“That’s nonsense.” You immediately reply.

“I said the same thing Y/N. But on the off chance that he is.. you know, you shouldn’t go following him anymore. For everyone’s safety.”

You could only feel something sink in what felt like an infinite pit in your chest.

“I know you’re friends… but just consider everything he’s done to everyone… to us..” Hermione takes your silence as a partial agreement. “If he’s not a Death Eater, he’s just cruel.”

Hermione’s words stuck to you all evening. Maybe his silence was a blessing in disguise. There was no more bullying and his friends weren’t being ordered around for the first time in nearly a decade.

Even if you were completely convinced, you had a feeling that one glance at Draco would make you go after him.

Its been a little while after your conversation with Hermione and you’ve been skipping all meals in the Great Hall. You’ve asking people to bring food back to the dorm so you could have “uninterrupted study time”. You knew if you saw Draco in the Great Hall you would disobey Hermione.

You couldn’t hide for all eternity however, so you waited until dark to use the bathroom.

No one occupied the hallway. At least in front of you.

“It’s after curfew.” Draco’s voice sounded as if he hadn’t drank any water for a week.

You quickly turn around. He looked horrible. It might’ve been the first time you’ve ever seen him sweat.

“You’re not a prefect anymore are you?” You quipped.

“Obviously.” He turns around, sauntering away.

You inhale sharply, picking up the pace to catch up with him.

Draco doesn’t acknowledge you behind him.

“Where are you going this late? The dorms are the other way”

Draco, after hearing you, reroutes himself. He heads for the doors, all without sparing you a glance.

Your cheeks grew hot with anger.

You follow after him far enough away for him not to notice. Both of you were weaving through the hallways like snakes digging through sand. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his destination. You could’ve audibly scoffed at where he chose to hide.

He leans over the railing with a permanent wince plastered over his face. It was so intense you could probably see from the back of his head.

“Really?” You angrily stomp up the steps.

Draco jumps at your voice, almost folding in half from the disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He growled. “Get out of here NOW!”

“Shut up!” You interrupt. Draco’s eyebrows raise, attempting to hide the surprise on his face. He quickly regains his posture, as if he expected that.

“You don’t get to decide to be nice to me, then go back to being a little shit!”

“Why do I have to be the fool for advocating for you when you go around acting like a twat?!” You swing the small bag you had brought with you with your toothbrush and other toiletries.

Draco grabs your arm. “Shut up!” He said in a way that was almost a hiss of a wild animal. He angrily lets go of your arm. “Stop bothering me NOW. I know you don’t care about me being mean to you. You kept following me all these years because you’re just- you treat everyone this way.. but I’m going down a path you can’t follow.” His voice quivers. “If you keep showing up like this you’ll die. Leave me alone before you mess everything up. You’re not going to help no matter what, like you think you can. So just go back to bed and pretend you never saw me. GO.” He shoves you once and when he sees you don’t budge, he pushes you harder until you fall.

He flinches but quickly composes himself and turns around.

You, left to your own devices, slowly get up and pat down your pajamas. He is a Death Eater. They were right. He was just too much of a coward to even properly say it. Yet you were completely convinced of the opposite.

“I hate you.” You spat out before you ran off.

Draco only looks at his wrist watch, biting down on his trembling lip, fighting every urge to ask you for help, for you to make it all better.

[astermath]

sweet like you🍓pt. 2

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen helps you out with perfecting your pastries to present them to your boss. you spend time getting to know each other in the place he knows best; the kitchen. things take a slight turn when you get back to your apartment.

word count: 3.1K

PART 1

notes: I really enjoy writing carmen tbh, I guess writing him is my way to giving his character some peace outside of his usually extremely stressful life. this got suuuper long im so sorry sdfgshj i got kinda carried away.  let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!

warnings: mentions of suicide/death, addiction, use of alcohol, cursing

Carmen hated nights.

At least during the day, he was forced to do things, be productive, talk to people, keep his mind occupied. But at night, it was just him. Alone with his thoughts. The only thing keeping him company his cynical mind and deranged dreams.

That night was no different.

Carmen woke up in a cold sweat, hand clutching at his chest as he sat up. He nearly gasped for air, and upon noticing how shaky he was, got up to splash his face with cold water. That didn’t help much either, so he went to his balcony (if one could even call it that), and lit a cigarette. The sun was already coming up, and he knew he wasn’t getting much sleep again feeling like this.

He sighed, smoke emitting from his nose as he pulled out his phone. You’d replied already, even given a time. Reading your words made him feel slightly more at ease, slightly more... Real. A reminder of his obligations to the people around him, but also, and he’d never admit this, something to look forward to.

[carmen]: absolutely, see you then

Your next shift went by smoothly, as per usual. The French themed café you worked at had become such a big part of your life, not that you minded, you were in love with it. And as much as she’d deny it, you could tell the owner had taken a liking to you. You heard from the barista that most waitresses would get fired within a month or so, but you’d stuck around for three now. 

“She said you have a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’... I think you remind her of her younger self.” Your colleague said while pouring out a cup of coffee. 

“Right,” you took a tray and readied another order. “You sure you didn’t imagine that? I don’t remember Odette ever saying something nice to me before.”

“Not to your face, no.” She grinned, putting the cup on your tray. “I’m sure you’ll get her to put some of your stuff on the menu, she just has to warm up to it.”

“Yeah, just,” you grabbed the tray, balancing it with ease. “Give me a few decades to work her through that.” You both chuckled as you walked off to continue your work.

Carmen stood across the street, looking through the window of the café. Shit, he was way too early, and that wasn’t even usually like him. He’d left the Beef over to Sydney while he was gone, telling her he had something important to take care of. And although that wasn’t entirely untrue, he wasn’t sure she’d agree if she found out he was hanging out at some café.

He slipped into the place rather sneakily, deciding that if he was gonna have to wait, he might as well do it in there. It had been a while since he’d been inside, usually just to get a quick coffee or something, and he’d never paid much attention to the décor before. He was kind of impressed, despite being smack dab in the middle of Chicago, the café had a true Parisian feel too it. Sure, he’d never been to Paris, but he could imagine this was pretty close.

He sat down at a booth near a window and stared outside. He felt a bit uneasy just... waiting. There were so many things he still had to do, so many debts to pay off, things to consider, to change--

“Carmen? Is that you?” 

Your voice snapped him out his train of thoughts, it almost felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through a dark cloud. He turned and saw you holding a menu, dressed in a cute dress and an apron. 

“Yeah, I uh... Got here a bit too early, my bad.” He gave an apologetic, halfhearted smile. 

“It’s no worries,” you handed him the menu. “You can just enjoy a coffee or something while you wait! What would you like?” You pulled out a notepad and a pen.

“Oh, uh... Christ...” His eyes squinted as he scanned the laminated menu. “Am I goin’ crazy or is this all in French?”

“Nope,” You chuckled. “It is. When I told you the menu hadn’t changed, I meant really, nothing has changed.”

“Fuck, alright, uhm... Just a regular coffee then.” He handed the menu back. “Please.”

“Comin’ right up!” You chirped, and he watched you make your merry way back into the kitchen. He could’ve sworn you damn near floated by how excited you seemed. He didn’t really understand it. You worked a waitress job where you weren’t allowed to change anything, you had to work early on Saturdays to help your family out and he could have guessed you probably still had time to maintain a healthy social life. It almost annoyed him how well balanced you seemed.

But someone as cute as you couldn’t possibly annoy him. 

He received his coffee not long after, thanking you and admiring the porcelain for a moment. The more he noticed about this place, the more... Uneasy he felt. He didn’t realize why, and he kept mulling it over until long after he’d finished his drink.

Ah.

Because the Beef looked like a garbage dump compared to this.

And he owned that garbage dump.

He hated himself a little for comparing the two, they weren’t comparable at all besides both serving food and drinks, but the fact that you were only two blocks away didn’t help. And he was about to be helping you too, his competition.

The crew would kill him if they knew where he was at.

You worked on closing up, cleaning a few last cups and arranging them neatly before walking back to Carmen’s table. “Hope you enjoyed your coffee my good sir, but I must request you to join me in the kitchen, for I have prepared a mighty array of desserts for thou.” You grinned.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He got up, ready to follow. “Don’t I gotta pay for that coffee?”

“S’on the house. Come on, we’ve got pastries to try!”

The kitchen closely resembled the rest of the establishment, although much more homely. It was small, doable, but just a little cramped. 

You pulled out two stools for the two of you to sit on, before going to the fridge and taking out a tray. “Alright, so...” You put it down on the counter. “Here we’ve got classic cheesecake with a cinnamon cookie crust,” you pointed at each dessert, “a cream strawberry tart, and last but not least,” your fingers fluttered in a ‘jazz hands’ way, “tiramisu topped with fresh strawberries.”

Carmen scanned the tray before him. The presentation was immaculate, but he found that often with these types of desserts the looks were better than the taste. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

You sat across him, more nervous than you initially expected to be, as he tried each of the desserts. He had some notes about each one, as expected, you were just an amateur cook, but you could tell his eyes lit up a little when he tried the tiramisu. 

“Mm,” He hummed, putting his spoon back in for another bite. “Shit, that’s fire chef...”

“Chef?” You raised an eyebrow. No one had ever called you that before.

“Sorry,” He swallowed, “Freudian slip, my bad.”

You chuckled. “No, no, I don’t mind... The tiramisu is a family recipe, actually. My nana used to make it all the time.” A nostalgic smile graced your face. 

“Those are usually the best.” He thinks back at the food him and Mikey used to make when they were younger, and somehow, it makes the tiramisu taste even better. “So, anything else you wanna add?”

“Oh!” You were a little caught off guard by his question. “Uhm, well... Now that you mention it, I’d love to add macarons, to play into the French theme of the café. I’ve just never been able to get them right, and trust me, I’ve tried.”

Carmen puts away the empty glass cup. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Huh?” You were sure you misunderstood at first, but the look he gave you was telling you he was at least expecting an answer. “Uh... Sure, yeah! I’d love to! I think we still have all the ingredients here from my last attempt too.”

“Great.” He got up, clasping his hands together. “Let’s get to bakin’, chef.”

The two of you stood next to each other at the counter. His jacket was off, now replaced with a baby pink frilly apron, supposedly the only one you had. You’d been relatively quiet, mostly focusing on taking his advice and following instructions. But as he was sifting almond powder, and you were beating egg whites, he had this strange urge to fill the silence. It was weird, usually he preferred working quietly, but it was almost strange to hear you not talking when you were there.

“So... You’re not from Chicago, are you?” He kept his eyes on the sifter.

You grinned, still whisking away. “What gave it away?”

“You smile a lot,” he took the bowl from you and held it upside down to check the consistency of the egg whites, “and I haven’t seen you light a single cigarette.” He put the bowl back and started weighing off some sugar. “So either you’re not from here, or I want whatever drugs you’re taking.”

You chuckled at his remark, finding his self deprecating humor quite amusing. “No, you’re right. I grew up on my parents’ farm, though it’s not too far from here, I never really came close to the city. Moved here about three months ago, so I haven’t explored much.” You took the sugar from him and gradually started adding it to the egg whites. “What about you? Born and raised?”

“What gave it away?” He joked back. “Born, raised, moved away for culinary school, worked in New York, now I’m back.” He sighed. Being back in Chicago was... Strange. Because after not having seen his brother for literal years, he was now constantly confronted with everything that reminded him of Mikey. Including his business.

“Interesting.” You started working together the mixture, sneaking glances at his face every now and then to gage his reaction. “So... What brought you back?”

A longer silence followed your question, and you could tell his hands even stopped moving for a moment. Suddenly he seemed tense, and you worried if your question had struck a cord. 

He swallowed, eyes fixated on the ingredients before him. “My brother.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sure he’s happy to see you back.” You offered a kind smile.

“Yeah, I uh... I’m not sure he would be.” He glanced at you, eyes quickly darting back to the vanilla extract he was measuring out, uncomfortable with eye contact when he talked about Mikey. “He died.” His eyebrow twitched slightly. “Suicide.”

You stop whisking for a moment to look at him, and you can tell his face had reddened. You feel awful for pressing him on such a sensitive subject, but you had no idea.

The two of you continue to prepare the batter in complete silence for a good minute. Both of you feel bad. Him, for dumping this information on you, and you, for even asking about it.

“I’m sorry,” you speak up, filling up a piping bag with batter, “I had no idea.”

“S’okay,” He runs his hand through his hair, a nervous tic, almost. “I’ve been trying to talk more about it. Especially since I kinda run his business now.”

“Well, if it counts for anything,” You give him another sweet smile, and this time, it does actually make him feel a little better. Silently, he wished they could put the feeling your smiles gave in pills, so he could take those instead. “I think he’d be proud of you.”

He doesn’t reply. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know if he agrees. He doesn’t know what Mikey would think, and from what he’s heard from Richie, he’s not even sure if he would recognize the person his brother had become through his addiction. But the possibility is there, and you reminding him of it was enough. For now, at least.

He noticed you struggling with the piping bag and got behind you, hands sneaking over yours to help you hold it correctly. “There we go.”

Carmen doesn’t seem to notice how close he is to you. Or how warm your face had gotten. Or how the way he smelled was distracting you from listening to what he was saying. Cigarettes, coffee and sandalwood... A strange, but not unappealing mix of scents. 

You turn your head just a slight bit and catch a glimpse of his blue eyes. They were so bright, piercing almost, but they held such a profound sadness behind them. You wondered what else they held, what other stories he struggled to talk about.

Carmen noticed you weren’t watching what you were doing and looked up, accidentally meeting your eyes now. And then he realized how close he was, cheeks growing flushed like a teenage boy as he let go of your hands and took a step back, clearing his throat. “Shit, uh... My bad.”

You chuckled nervously. “It’s fine, I appreciate the help.” You leaned down to preheat the oven.

“Yeah… Anytime.”

A while after, the two of you were presented with perfect, pink tinted macarons. You smile proudly, hands on your hips as you admire the final product in front of you. “Man, we really nailed those, huh?”

Carmen smiles, a little sleepily. It was starting to get dark outside and he hadn’t even had dinner yet, but he felt bad about having to interrupt your baking session. Usually when he was in the kitchen he was focused, collected, he was making a product that he had to be proud of. But he’d been open to you, he’d laughed, he almost felt… Relaxed. Maybe that’s why he was feeling sleepy.

That, or the insane lack of sleep was catching up to him once more.

You looked outside and noticed that the sun was going down. “Shit, how long have we been here?” You checked the time on your phone. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I had no idea it already got this late... Uh, if you want I’ll drive you home?”

“Yeah, that would be--” His sentence got cut off by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. The two of you stayed quiet for a moment as Carmen put a hand over his abdomen, clearing his throat, a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I uh... I haven’t eaten anything today besides those desserts earlier.”

Now you really felt guilty. Not only had you kept him at the café for way longer than you should have, but you were nearly making the poor guy starve. “Tell ya what,” You handed him his jacket and took off your apron. “How ‘bout you come back to my apartment and I’ll make us both dinner. I’m no expert chef like you, but I can cook a mean pasta!”

He hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t been to someone else’s apartment in so long, let alone someone he was interested in. But he supposed it was better than being alone in his apartment again, probably heating up a shitty frozen meal because he was too tired to cook.

Your apartment was nice. Well, nicer than his at least, although that probably didn’t mean much. For only having lived there for three months, he could tell you’d really added your own touch to the place.

“Welcome to mi casa!” You playfully bowed, allowing him to enter and closing the door behind you two. You tossed your keys onto the counter and took off your coat, ready to get to cooking. “You can settle on the couch, put something on, I got Netflix if you want. I’ll have dinner made in just a sec!”

Carmen moved with caution. This was... Unknown territory. He knew you were probably just being friendly, but this was a pretty big step for him. He had his boundaries, his walls firmly set, and you were jumping over them like it was nothing. It was just... Easier with you, somehow. To open up, to talk.

Not long after he’d chosen something to watch, you arrived with two deep plates of pesto pasta with mozzarella and diced tomatoes. “There we go, I always make this when I don’t feel like cooking.” You handed him a plate and a fork, before settling down next to him. Your couch wasn’t that big, so your shoulders were touching the entire time.

The two of you were watching a cooking competition, something you didn’t realize would revitalize Carmen so much. Not because he liked it so much, but because he was so focused on the mistakes the contestants were making, and felt the need to point every single one of them out to you. Your two plates stood empty on the coffee table, along with a bottle of red wine and two, very empty glasses. 

“Now, see this,” he pointed at the TV, “can’t believe they’re even allowed to air this, this is a disgrace to cooking. The fuckin’ idiot hasn’t touched a single spice this entire episode!”

The both of you were both kind of tipsy, and you were leaning against him now, smiling to yourself as you tried to withhold laughter from every serious comment he made.

“And now--” He looked at you and realized you were hanging on for dear life not to break out in giggles. “What’s so funny?” He asked with a grin.

“N-Nothing, nothing!” You chuckled, leaning away from him so he wouldn’t see your expression.

“Ah, so now we’re shy!” He poked your side, the wine doing wonders for his confidence. “Come on, let’s hear those laughs then!” He continued poking you, and you couldn’t take it anymore, the ticklish sensation making you squirm. You grabbed his arm and pulled it away from your abdomen, making him fall forward onto the couch. He caught himself, hand resting on the armrest, now leaning over you.

You looked up at him, and god, maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you swore he’d never looked hotter. Leaned over you, curls framing his face, strong arms surrounding you. His gorgeous blue eyes staring down into yours, tension growing between the two of you.

So you couldn’t help yourself.

You leaned up, capturing his lips in yours, a hand coming up to rest on the back of his head to pull him in further.

He froze, eyes only fluttering shut after a few seconds, melting into the kiss as his hand came down to rest on your waist. His mind ran blank, nothing plaguing his mind anymore, all besides one thought;

“Damn. She tastes even sweeter than those strawberries.”

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar   @spr3id   @deadandstill  

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 12

content warnings: discussions surrounding medically induced amnesia, royal/servant whump, angel whumpee, discussions surrounding corporal punishment (torturing onyx lol), let me know if I missed anything!

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The guard took me down three staircases and through too many hallways to remember before opening a metal door. “They’ll be waiting for you right in here. There aren’t guards in there, but those two are plenty capable and I will be waiting out here regardless, so no funny business.” I didn’t miss the click of the lock sliding into place as the door closed.

There was a table in the middle of the room. It had a white tablecloth on it, but it looked like it was metal and sterile under that.

Kieran was waiting at the table. Kieran and… someone else. The someone else would clearly rather I didn’t know. They were wearing a mask, blue and gray and big enough to cover every inch of their face. They had loose enough clothes to hide the curves of their body and their hair was pulled back into a bun that hid the texture and length of it—even the color outside of how dark it was.

“Hi, Onyx,” Kieran said softly. “How’s your arm?”

“Good, sir,” I whispered, bowing my head slightly. “Thank you for the concern. And, um, the medical help.”

“Of course. How about you come sit down, yeah? My friend here is going to stay anonymous, but you can call them Blue. We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?”

He was speaking so gently. As if I wouldn’t understand him if he was blunt with me. I wondered if I should tell him that I knew how to be a good servant, or if that was too irrelevant to the conversation. “Of course, sir.”

“What’s your full name?” Blue asked. They did not sound upset with me, but it was a far cry from Kieran’s soft tone.

“Onyx, Mx.”

“And… your last name?”

I glanced away, focusing my eyes on the tablecloth, tracing the gold embroidery with my eyes. “My apologies, Mx, but you would have to ask the royal family for that kind of information. I don’t know it anymore.”

“No? Why not?”

“I gave it to them, Mx, when I was seventeen. I don’t remember anything from before being a servant. It’s better this way. I'm more productive.”

Kieran and Blue stared at each other for a long moment before looking back at me. “They erased your memory?” Kieran asked slowly.

“Yes, but- but I agreed, sir. I offered to let them do it, because I wanted to become the best servant I could.”

“Okay, but your offer was before they actually did the procedure, right? So the only reason you know that you offered is because they told you.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m very grateful to them for telling me, since they don't usually tell me about before. As is their right, of course.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kieran whispered. “You’ve been with them this whole time, haven’t you? What did you do when they were overthrown?”

“... What?”

“When they were overthrown. Since they’re no longer royal. Did they just take you with them when they left the castle?”

This was similar to what Dr. Charlotte had said—she hasn’t ruled a country for the better part of the last decade—but it couldn’t be true. “The Rao family has ruled Sathenn for sixteen generations, sir. And I don’t- I don’t think I’d ever seen the castle before last night.”

“So you didn't work for them as an employee, or at least not after the memory thing.” Blue tilted their head. “How do you know that the Raos didn’t just grab you off the street and wipe your memory?”

I frowned. “His Highness Prince Ryan told me that I volunteered.”

“And you took his word for it. Right.” They wrote something down on their clipboard. “Did you try to leave?”

“Of course not, not on purpose,” I breathed, staring at them in shock. “I’m- I know how to be a good servant, I can be, I swear.”

“And you didn’t ever want to, or you were just too scared to? Do you understand the difference in the question I am asking?”

“I don’t… think I understand, Mx. I don’t leave because that’s what’s required of me as a servant, and I can be a good servant. It’s not about what I want or how scared I am, I just don't leave.”

“... Right.” I could not see their expression, but I didn’t think they looked convinced. “And what would happen if you did try to leave? Would you… get in trouble in some way?”

“Of course, Mx. But I know my place, I swear I do, I wouldn’t run.”

“Okay. But if you did.”

“I wouldn’t, Mx,” I insisted. “I swear. I can be good, I wouldn’t run.”

They paused for a moment, but nodded eventually. “Okay. Sure. You wouldn’t run. But do you get in trouble for other things, then? Other, smaller mistakes, maybe? Can you describe… I don’t know. Can you describe the most recent incident?”

The most recent one was… last night, despite the fact that last night felt much further away than it was. “Each morning, I bring breakfast to Her Majesty,” I explained. “Yesterday, I was late, Mx. I was punished for that.”

“What kind of punishment?”

“I usually wear a shock collar, Mx, and His Highness Prince Ryan shocked me three times. One for each minute I was late. A fair punishment.”

Blue had been scribbling on their paper, but froze as I spoke. “So you- when you say punishment, you mean corporal punishment.”

“Of course, Mx. Punishment is required for me to become the best servant I can be. How else am I supposed to learn to be better? I make much fewer mistakes than when I was new.”

Kieran was frowning at the wall, and I flinched when he turned his gaze toward me. “Tell Blue what you told me about your wing.”

“My wing wasn’t broken as a punishment, sir,” I explained again, not understanding the relevance. I hadn’t understood the relevance of any of these questions, but it didn’t matter, because the prince had said to do what I was told. “It was only to keep me from flying. But it’s- it’s okay, now, it barely hurts, it’s been years. His Highness Prince Cardan broke it before I gave the royal family my memories, so I don’t remember it happening.”

“That’s convenient,” Blue muttered. “Fine. Okay. Last couple questions, because I can’t stomach this for much longer. What do you know about what you were doing in the castle last night?”

I hesitated. “One of the guards said that we were breaking in.”

“Mhm. Were you aware of that before you came here?”

“... The royal family can’t break in anywhere, Mx. They’re entitled to any building they like.”

“Allow me to rephrase, Onyx. Were you or were you not aware, last night, that you came here as part of a group on a mission to kill people?”

“That’s not-” I hesitated. “They weren’t here for that. They were here for… for Kieran, they said. Anyone that they hurt was someone in the way of their rule—it’s not that they wanted to hurt people.”

“Didn’t they? I’ve seen the camera footage. You were an accessory to murder before you even got into the door. That didn’t make you hesitate at all? It didn’t surprise you enough to ask any of the Raos what you were doing here?”

Right. The guard with the purple hair. Outside, guarding the castle. Guarding Kieran. Dead, after someone had killed her, someone that had arrived in a car with me.

“No, Mx,” I said. “I didn’t- I didn’t ask. I’m not supposed to ask questions. It would be a waste of time. I’m just supposed to do what I’m told.”

Blue took a slow, measured breath. “Okay. I have good news and bad news for you, Onyx. The good news is that I think putting you on trial wouldn’t get us very far because you somehow managed not to realize that the Raos were killing people. Even after watching them kill people. The bad news is that you are ridiculously loyal to people that have been lying to you for longer than you remember existing. These people are dangerous to everything this country stands for. That makes you dangerous by proxy, regardless of your intentions or information, and we can’t exactly let you free either.”

You are ridiculously loyal to people that have been lying to you.

These people are dangerous.

“That doesn’t- it doesn’t matter if they lie,” I managed. “It doesn’t matter if they’re dangerous. It’s not the same for them, Mx. They tell me what they want me to know so that I can be the best servant possible. Sometimes that doesn’t include the full picture.”

“Why do you need to be such a good servant?” Blue asked. “Why does their comfort matter so much more than yours? They might have the best servant in the world, Onyx, but what is the point of serving them so much if they give you nothing in return?”

This was something I had asked too, once. It was years ago, when I was new and I had phrased it differently, but I remembered it. Why is my happiness less important than yours, Your Highness?

Prince Cardan had laughed and asked me how happy I thought he was. And he’d said that happiness- “Happiness serves no purpose, Mx. It doesn’t protect me or keep me safe or provide me with food. The royal family does that for me, if I do my best to be a good servant.”

“They’re not going to be the royal family ever again, you know. They’re-”

“When was the last time you ate something, Onyx?” Kieran interrupted.

Blue glared at him.

“... Last night, sir,” I answered quietly. “At dinner.”

“I think that the conversation Blue is trying to have with you would be better managed over a meal. How about we get you some breakfast?”

Blue was still glaring, and Kieran didn’t look happy. …But someone had asked me a question, and I was supposed to answer it. “Yes. sir.”

“Okay. Blue—paperwork. Try to start questioning Lucia if you have any extra time. Onyx—how do you feel about crepes?”

~

taglist (btw i appreciate you so so much): @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606

[beanjang-draws]

Plague Ponies - Research

CONTENT WARNINGS: no gore

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Summary:

Twilight doesn’t want to admit it, but things in Equestrian haven’t been in tip-top shape recently. It looks like even Princess Celestia has judged that the news cycle has been too grim as of late, as she’s instructed Twilight not to make a public statement about the number of ponies who fell ill after the Everfree attack.

With the help of her number one assistant, Twilight tries to figure out how exactly to quietly prep for an epidemic when they both remember: Granny Smith is super old! She must know what to do? Wait, Pinkie? What are you doing here?!

Twilight and Pinkie end up going to Sweet Apple Acres together, where Twilight is given a book that just might contain the answers she needs. Now to decide her next course of action…should she go back to the orchard and head home now, or should she indulge for just a second in Apple Bloom’s request to check on her project?

Transcript below:

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you for understanding, Doctor. I’ll send word immediately if anything changes.

Greymare: Of course, Princess. We appreciate your generosity. Everything should be ready within the week.

Twilight: Of course. If you’re in need of any more funds, tell the distributors to contact me.

Doctor Greymare bids his farewells to Princess Twilight and takes his leave. Twilight heads back inside the library, where Spike is looking on with concern.

Spike: Twilight…are you sure we shouldn’t tell everypony now? If everypony in Ponyville really is infected, shouldn’t they all know?

Twilight Sparkle: I don’t like delaying things either, Spike, but you read Princess Celestia’s letter out yourself. Our priority is to avoid panic until we know we can answer their inevitable questions.

Spike: I guess that makes sense…hearing about another disaster after the last string of disasters would make everypony totally freak out!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike!

Spike: What? Im agreeing with you! It’s a bad idea to tell everypony about an epidemic after a discord came back, got better, accidentally caused the princesses’ kidnappings, delayed the Summer Sun Celebration—

Twilight Sparkle: SPIKE

Spike lets up after Twilight’s outburst, looking amused as she takes a breath to collect herself.

Twilight Sparkle: Maybe things haven’t been the most…stable, lately, but the princesses have everything under control. Plus, I’ve been reading up on epidemiology and it’s normal for new pathogens to crop up every few decades. We just have to be prepared for them!

Spike: Oh, perfect! You’re the most prepared pony I know!

Twilight loses her composure entirely.

Twilight Sparkle: BUT I’M NOT PREPARED! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF PONYVILLE NOW, BUT I CAN’T EVEN KEEP IT SAFE. ALL I’VE DONE IS LEARN TO FLY AND MEMORIZE PRINCESS ETIQUETTE. THAT’S NOT GOING TO HELP ANYPONY!

Spike: Hey, you’ve been busy saving all of Equestria! You didn’t prepare for that either, but it went fine in the end because of your friends.

Twilight Sparkle: I guess so…

Spike: If these diseases pop up every now and then, Ponyville must have had some experience with this sort of thing before. You just finished talking to Doctor Greymare, right? Maybe he could help.

Twilight Sparkle: That’s just the thing, Spike. He said he hasn’t heard of anything like this before, at least not while he’s been running the hospital.

Spike: Is there anypony who might know what happened before him?

Twilight Sparkle: You would have to be ancient to remember anything further back than that. You’ve have to be…

The cogs in Twilight’s head begun to turn, and she and Spike come to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Twilight Sparkle and Spike: Somepony old like Granny Smith!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, you’re a genius!

Spike: Bah, this is just a run of the mill performance from your number one assistant.

Twilight Sparkle: We should head to Sweet Apple Acres right now—

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie bursts in out of nowhere.

Pinkie Pie: TWILIGHT!!!! SOMETHING BIG IS COMING!!!!!!! THE FATE OF PONYVILLE DEPENDS ON IT

Spike: Pinkie, could you bring down the volume a little? My ears have been sensitive lately…

Pinkie Pie: Oh, sorry, Spike! The fate of Ponyville depends on it!

Spike: Thanks

Twilight Sparkle: Is it your Pinkie sense? Can you feel something bad coming?

Pinkie Pie: Yes! It’s big! Huge! Even bigger and huger than the time you believed in my Pinkie sense!

Spike: Wow, that IS big.

Twilight Sparkle: Well, if it’s so serious, we should tell everypony to stay indoors for the time being.

Pinkie Pie: Waaay ahead of you, Twilight! I already warned everypony not to take any unnecessary journeys on the way here.

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you Pinkie, you’ve saved us a lot of time. Now we can—

Pinkie Pie: —consult Granny Smith for her firsthoof account on Ponyville’s history of health and safety protocols?

Twilight Sparkle: …I won’t even ask. Yes, Pinkie, we’re doing just that.

Pinkie Pie: That’s a great idea, Twilight! Lead the way :3

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, let’s get to Sweet Apple Acres.

Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle begin to clear out to head to the farm. Twilight notices Spike hasn’t made moves to join them, so she sticks her head back inside to check on him.

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, aren’t you coming?

Spike: You know, Twilight, if staying indoors is so important, I think I’d better stay here and…make sure Owlowicious doesn’t go wandering around while you’re gone.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, number one assistant! I’m leaving the library under your watch. We shouldn’t be gone too long.

It looks like most Ponyville Residents have caught wind of Pinkie’s warnings! Twilight and Pinkie only see a few ponies out and about on their way to Sweet Apple Acres. this far out, the news hasn’t yet reached the Apples, who are occupied with a busy apple bucking season.

Applejack: Howdy y’all! What brings you down to the farm?

Pinkie Pie: My Pinkie sense has been going off all morning! Im not sure what this one means!

Twilight Sparkle: But I think I could figure it out. AJ, could I talk to Granny Smith?

Applejack: Sure thing! She shouldn’t have hunkered down for her afternoon nap just yet.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, girls, I’ll be right back.

Pinkie Pie: I’ll stay with Applejack and lend a hoof with the apples!

Applejack: You know what, that’d be mighty helpful of you, Pinkie! Big Mac’s been sick, so I’ve been buckin’ these trees all on my own!

Twilight goes off to see Granny Smith on her own.

Twilight Sparkle: Hello, Granny Smith! Sorry to barge in on you like this..

Granny Smith: Not at all, dearie. In fact, you ought to visit more often! I hear so much about you from Apple Bloom, you really should stay for supper one of these days and tell us about your lessons yourself!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. I’ll make sure to visit more often. Unfortunately, I didn’t come by just to say hi today. I actually did have a few questions for you.

Granny Smith: Of course! Ask away, dear, I’m all ears.

Twilight Sparkle: Have there ever been any emergency health and safety protocols in Ponyville?

Granny Smith: Emergency what now?

Twilight Sparkle: Have there been any outbreaks of sickness in Ponyville in the past? Did the town have a way of dealing with them?

Granny Smith: Oh! You just mean the plague ponies. Hold on dear, I know I’ve got a book back here somewhere…it’s been sitting collecting dust! A sign of better times, I reckon…now if only I could find it…

Granny Smith begins rummaging around the house looking for the aforementioned book.

Twilight Sparkle: I think this might be just the thing I need! I haven’t heard of plague ponies before. None of my books mention them at all.

Granny Smith: Oh, your fancy city books wouldn’t have anything on this.

Granny Smith returns with a beat up looking book on hoof.

Granny Smith: I knew I still had one laying around!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. Um, what it is?

Granny Smith: It’s a home remedy book! Back when the town was first settling, we had all sorts of sicknesses popping up. Prob’ly from all the different ponies coming together. Without much of a way to reach Canterlot yet, we couldn’t get aid from the big city for any fancy doctor magic.

Twilight Sparkle: Oh…I had no idea that happened.

Granny Smith: Heh-heh…I’m not surprised they didn’t teach you this in your Canterlot history classes…What city pony aid we lacked, we made up for in home remedies. We each of us came together and pooled our knowledge in books like these. Here, you take this. This one’s got some of my own notes in it. Maybe you could add your own!

Twilight Sparkle: I couldn’t possibly take this from you! It’s a part of your history…

Granny Smith: It’s yours, too. And it’s doing nopony any good collecting dust with me. Just promise me to read every bit of it.

Twilight Sparkle: …Thank you, Granny. I will.

Granny Smith: Alright, now I’m off to hit the hay. Apple Bloom, you should show Twilight your plant project in the barn!

Granny Smith turns to go and take her afternoon nap. Apple Bloom appears, eager to get her turn talking to Twilight.

Twilight Sparkle: Ooh, have you figured out how to get your subjects to multiply?

Apple Bloom: I sure did!! I made the adjustments you told me to and added a little something of my own! You’ve gotta come and see it!!

POLL: Should Twilight go see Apple Bloom’s Project?

RESULT: Yes

End transcript

[orangedodge]

At least two of the new X-books were not subject to any research whatsoever.

No one involved in writing or editing Phoenix knew who Corsair was before the issue went to script. It just isn't possible to have written him so off, like a knockoff MCU Star-Lord looking for a big score, when he's been a trusted friend since the 1980. Every writer will have their own take on any given character, and wildly different variations can diverge over the course of decades of stories, but this version of Corsair is just not a valid continuation of anything that has ever been written about him before, across any medium.

And there is no way that anyone involved in creating X-Factor has done any reading on any of their characters. None of the established characters would sign off to work for Alex's shady team of reality TV cops. Cecilia Reyes is joining a military operation? She wasn't even comfortable being an X-Man, and she at least agreed with their values. Frenzy and Pyro are assaulting dissidents because some general and her corporate overlord ordered it? They should be attacking the humans to help the mutants escape, not taking any part in raids on their own community.

(Also Havoc's clear disdain for Pyro, while perhaps in character for him to express, feels too much like it carries authorial intent. Pyro's work with the Marauders was a hell of a lot more useful than anything Alex has ever done as a failed superhero. Alex isn't the one suffering with losers here)

Polaris, I can accept that she's been through a lot and finds herself in an uncertain space. But if she actually intends to be a part of an underground movement, she's simply too big of a name in this universe to resurface as the random underling to a group of nameless generics. She was one of the leaders of Genosha. She was chosen from among millions to represent Krakoa as one of their X-Men. She does not need to prove herself to any of these people, much less get talked down to by them. Is Mark Russell not aware that she has a history outside of being Alex's girlfriend?

[rotting-ink]

Starling Knight- Burial At Sea

They hated the ocean. It was impossible for them to tell how much time had passed, even though they knew they were supposed to look at the stars and... Guess? The only thing that warned them of the passage of time was the increasing worry on the Captain's face, and the number of ship hands being confined to quarters.

That, and the amount of times Starling would overheard the Captain and their mother arguing, as they sat outside their shared room. Going from reassuring words to near shouting matches, only quietened whenever their mother would burst into tears, sobbing and unable to stop the wretched, painful breaths she had to take. But, even behind doors, they understood. 

Their father had been dead for 6 weeks. For 3 of those weeks, they had been at sea. For a week, there had been signs of plague on board, particularly in the cargo hold. Where their father had lay, stiff, his own coffin side by side to another corpse. Someone’s niece who flung herself off a building at the prospect of an arranged marriage and her remains was being shipped back, her head in a different box to her body. 

The uncle had already happily agreed to toss her own corpse to the sea, after a small service. Starling’s mother was the one who was refusing to have her husband buried in the water. Starling privately thought that he’d have preferred to be buried at home. Their actual home. They already had a burial plot ready, a family mausoleum just outside their house. He wasn’t supposed to be being shipped back to England, to the family he willingly left behind, the people he made sure would never meet Starling. But they had nothing. But they did have something. 

Starling had watched other women in Egypt bury their husbands, and carry on. Ones with no family except a few children, taking over businesses, becoming the heads of their family. Their own mother wasn’t apparently able to fathom it. No, she had written home to the family she married into, and got a response back. They were sad that Andras was dead. They would love for her to come back and be with the family. They were excited to meet Starling. 

And now here they were, standing by the man who would have wanted to be buried underneath the dark dirt and soft sand, surrounded by the people he made his own family. But then again, as Starling was slowly coming to accept, life was cruel. He wasn’t supposed to die. It was before his time. Their cousin's father died only when she turned 45. Starling was just 15. They were supposed to have at least three more decades. 

If life was good, if being alive was fair, then their father wouldn’t have had a fit, standing among the oranges he was so proud of. He would have been found instantly, instead of hours later. He’d have survived. 

If not that, then he’d be buried at their home. Then their mother would take over. She knew how to. Starling knew how to. They’d carry on selling fruits, they’d carry on watching Starling discover that the world bent to the wills of their fingers, helping life bloom. Helping death shrivel. 

But no. Worst of all, Starling couldn’t get mad at the world for the fact that they had wrapped their father in a shroud made from bed linens. Nor that they knew this was the safest way. They’d seen plague victims. 

They could either hold onto their father and die with him before they ever reached the shores of England. Or let his body go now, and reach their new life… Alive. And nothing else. Just alive. 

So, as their mother wailed, uncaring of the eyes of the boat hands staring at the disgusting display, half of them horrified at the sight of this woman, undone, the other half pitying. Starling endured the stares. They already knew it would get worse when they arrived at their relatives. A part of them felt guilty, for being so selfish and thinking of the future, even when half of them mourned him. 

Starling was selfish, they decided. Starling was watching their father being hefted up, wrapped shoddily in borrowed fabric, to be lowered into cold, gray waters, and while half of them cried out, the other half shook in terror. Of what was to come. 

They were one of Osiris’ Followers in Egypt. Once a week they had gone to spend the whole day with the others with their abilities, to be taught, to be taken care of, to be reassured that their power was a blessing, of Old, but also of New. They’d see other classes in passing, as they walked through the halls of tile and stone. People urging plants to grow, helpers of Renenutet, people who could shape light, illusions, Lovers of Khonsu. Creators of Geb, Nut, Tefnut, Wadjet all showed newcomers their control over the elements. Guardians would let blood flow down their arms, to form crystallized weapons in their palms. 

There were also those, who willingly wielded the powers of Apep, to reinforce Ma’at. Seen as the most powerful, most of these Wielders came forward, to reveal Apep’s influence had come to them, and all would be taken in, creatures hanging off their clothes or curled around them, eyes staring and flicking around. They even talked to one of these creatures. It was perfectly polite.  

Starling’s mother always quietly scoffed at what Starling was taught and would come home with. She often talked about how it was a shame that the Kingdom was forced from the shores of Egypt, taking with the teachings of the Basilica, the power, the culture that the country needed. It was the only thing their parents fought about. Their father happily lived in Egypt before going to marry their mother, watching as they purged every influence from the hold the small island had over them, including reintroducing their old beliefs, to wash out the ones imposed. 

They privately agreed with their father. 

Because of what was to come for them now. They knew that it wouldn’t be long before their relatives would send them off to the Scholars and Keepers of the Basilica, to be Tagged, to be forced to unlearn how they saw the world. They already knew that the Sirelings of the Gods were known as Witches, people to be hidden away or used. They knew that instead of learning in cool rooms, side by side with other children, they’d be confined to the classroom. Then the workplace, if they didn’t want to study. 

So, as they watched their father sink down, swallowed by dark waters, their mother hanging onto their shoulder and sobbing, they wished they could sink wholly into their grief. To think of nothing but their father, lost to an abyss of wet waters, instead of themself.

Their mother was eventually escorted back to her room, to be given tea and made to sleep. The Captain, however, put a hand on Starling’s shoulder and escorted them to his cabin. He prepared an opium pipe, as he talked about his condolences, explaining, again, that he wished there was another way, but the threat of plague was simply too great. 

Then he pulled on the pipe. His eyes glazed. He offered it to Starling. 

They took a moment… Then put it to their lips. 

Years later, when interrogated by their Handler, the one who personally branded Starling upon their arrival to the Conservatory of Natural Research and Sciences, about their use of Opium and other “Instruments of Excess”, they might have admitted that they shouldn’t have taken that first taste. Shouldn’t have let the haze sink over them, to dull the edges that pierced and cut their insides. They enjoyed a nice evening, getting to talk about their father without the pain in their heart, drinking bad beer and listening to tales of the Sea, how the Captain was sure that something lurked in the deep. 

That night was the best sleep they had since their father’s death, curled up on their bunk as their mother cried, even in her sleep. 

Maybe they shouldn’t have become so reliant on it, their own personal escape made from poppies, but then again, maybe their father shouldn’t have died, choking on his own breath, among his oranges. Life was unfair. Starling had learnt how to deal with it.