#female chain reaction

[reasonsforhope]

In the Willamette Valley of Oregon, the long study of a butterfly once thought extinct has led to a chain reaction of conservation in a long-cultivated region.

The conservation work, along with helping other species, has been so successful that the Fender’s blue butterfly is slated to be downlisted from Endangered to Threatened on the Endangered Species List—only the second time an insect has made such a recovery.

[Note: "the second time" is as of the article publication in November 2022.]

To live out its nectar-drinking existence in the upland prairie ecosystem in northwest Oregon, Fender’s blue relies on the help of other species, including humans, but also ants, and a particular species of lupine.

After Fender’s blue was rediscovered in the 1980s, 50 years after being declared extinct, scientists realized that the net had to be cast wide to ensure its continued survival; work which is now restoring these upland ecosystems to their pre-colonial state, welcoming indigenous knowledge back onto the land, and spreading the Kincaid lupine around the Willamette Valley.

First collected in 1929 [more like "first formally documented by Western scientists"], Fender’s blue disappeared for decades. By the time it was rediscovered only 3,400 or so were estimated to exist, while much of the Willamette Valley that was its home had been turned over to farming on the lowland prairie, and grazing on the slopes and buttes.

Pictured: Female and male Fender’s blue butterflies.

Now its numbers have quadrupled, largely due to a recovery plan enacted by the Fish and Wildlife Service that targeted the revival at scale of Kincaid’s lupine, a perennial flower of equal rarity. Grown en-masse by inmates of correctional facility programs that teach green-thumb skills for when they rejoin society, these finicky flowers have also exploded in numbers.

[Note: Okay, I looked it up, and this is NOT a new kind of shitty greenwashing prison labor. This is in partnership with the Sustainability in Prisons Project, which honestly sounds like pretty good/genuine organization/program to me. These programs specifically offer incarcerated people college credits and professional training/certifications, and many of the courses are written and/or taught by incarcerated individuals, in addition to the substantial mental health benefits (see x, x, x) associated with contact with nature.]

The lupines needed the kind of upland prairie that’s now hard to find in the valley where they once flourished because of the native Kalapuya people’s regular cultural burning of the meadows.

While it sounds counterintuitive to burn a meadow to increase numbers of flowers and butterflies, grasses and forbs [a.k.a. herbs] become too dense in the absence of such disturbances, while their fine soil building eventually creates ideal terrain for woody shrubs, trees, and thus the end of the grassland altogether.

Fender’s blue caterpillars produce a little bit of nectar, which nearby ants eat. This has led over evolutionary time to a co-dependent relationship, where the ants actively protect the caterpillars. High grasses and woody shrubs however prevent the ants from finding the caterpillars, who are then preyed on by other insects.

Now the Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde are being welcomed back onto these prairie landscapes to apply their [traditional burning practices], after the FWS discovered that actively managing the grasslands by removing invasive species and keeping the grass short allowed the lupines to flourish.

By restoring the lupines with sweat and fire, the butterflies have returned. There are now more than 10,000 found on the buttes of the Willamette Valley."

-via Good News Network, November 28, 2022

[reiderwriter]

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were. 

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized. 

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight. 

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-” 

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.” 

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot. 

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans. 

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.” 

“Turn around.” 

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day. 

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist. 

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.” 

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest. 

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him). 

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all. 

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you. 

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life. 

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention. 

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet. 

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-” 

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.” 

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on. 

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter. 

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question. 

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?” 

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?” 

xxxxx 

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance. 

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime. 

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character. 

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave. 

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view. 

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair. 

A girl could dream. 

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.” 

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw. 

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?” 

“I don't hit women.” 

“And I do? Emily, wha-” 

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame. 

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?” 

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.” 

“You make a good point, shall we begin?” 

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?” 

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it. 

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane. 

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head. 

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight  but not bruising yet. 

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?” 

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs. 

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.” 

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.” 

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention. 

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little. 

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints. 

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again. 

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow. 

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes. 

“Y/N, put it down.” 

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab. 

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.” 

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward. 

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged. 

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat. 

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun. 

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning. 

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?” 

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat. 

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back. 

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.” 

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties. 

“I can tell.” 

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute. 

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.” 

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach. 

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.” 

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better. 

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers. 

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor. 

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun. 

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.” 

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you. 

“Yes, yes, please touch me.” 

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently  urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue. 

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table. 

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.  

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy. 

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure. 

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you. 

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.” 

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window. 

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path. 

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…” 

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free. 

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick. 

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple. 

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.” 

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release. 

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him. 

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.” 

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged. 

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting. 

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls. 

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair. 

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-” 

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.” 

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms. 

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?” 

[prettyfilmz]

BIG JIM • JIMMY USO

author's note: hey my loves! I hope you had a happy new year🥳 i come to you with big jim for the big 2025. this idea spurred from back at war games and after many rewrites and revisions, this beautiful work was born. I hope you enjoy as I work on chain reaction pt. 2!💗

synopsis: in which amara is the only one who knows the origin of 'big jim'.

warnings: 18+(MDNI), jimmy has a big dick ;) , black female!oc, dirty talk, hotel sex, praise kink, riding, reverse cowgirl, mating press, squirting, creampie, lots of kissing, pussy slaps, overstimulation, spanking, slight dacryphilia, pet names (mama, love, pretty girl baby girl, baby), daddy kink (subtle) , teasing, fluffy lovey dovey shit at the end.

word count: 2.6k words

Backstage at the Intuit Dome, the camera crew was in motion, chasing wrestlers for interviews and behind the scenes moments. Among the chaos, Jimmy leaned casually against a wall, dressed down in his merch and a fitted snapback, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

He wasn’t wrestling tonight, but his presence alone was enough to stir commotion.  Everyone wanted to know the answer to one question, the same one that had been swirling for months.

“Jimmy, got a minute?” Cathy Kelley asked, stepping into frame with a mic.  She was smiling brightly, but Jimmy could already tell where this was headed.

“Sure, what’s good uce?” Jimmy shrugged, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, first of all, congratulations on the momentum you’ve been building since you’ve returned. The fans love and missed you, and you’ve been killing it out there.”

“Always,” he replied smoothly, winking at the camera.

She laughed lightly.  “But there’s something else everyone’s been talking about, and I have to ask: the nickname.  Big Jim.  Where did that come from?  You’ve got the commentators using it, fans are chanting it—and yet, you never seem to explain the origin.”

Jimmy chuckled, the sound low and easy, as if he’d been expecting this all night.  “Man, y’all don’t quit, huh?”

“Come on, Jimmy, the people need answers!” she teased, leaning in slightly.  “Is it a reference to your presence in the ring? an inside joke?”

“Nah, nah,” Jimmy said, shaking his head with a grin.  “See, that’s the thing. That’s between me, my girl, and God.”

The interviewer’s curiosity deepened.  “Your girlfriend Amara?  So, she gave you the name?”

Jimmy tilted his head, smirking knowingly.  “Somethin’ like that.  You wanna know what it’s about, you gotta ask her. But good luck with that, ‘cause she ain’t talkin’.”

The camera zoomed in on his face as he finished the sentence, the smugness radiating off him, and the interviewer gave a resigned laugh.  “You’re killing us here, Jimmy.”

“Hey, I just play my role,” he said with a shrug, then leaned closer to the mic, his voice dropping a little lower.  “But trust me—she know exactly why it’s Big Jim.”

The interview ended, but the smirk didn’t leave Jimmy’s face as he walked away, hands in his pockets, and the sound of the fans chants ringing in his ears.

♡

Hours later, Jimmy strolled into the dimly lit hotel room he was sharing with Amara, his energy still vibrant from the night’s teasing.  The second the door clicked shut behind him, he spotted her on the bed legs crossed, her curvy frame dressed in one of his t-shirts. It barely skimmed her thighs, leaving her soft, brown skin on full display. Her curls pulled into a cute pineapple bun, and her lips curled into a knowing smile when she looked up at him.

“Another interview about ‘Big Jim’, huh?” she asked, her tone amused.

Jimmy laughed, shaking his head as he tossed his snapback onto the dresser.  “Man, I swear, these people don’t got nothin’ better to talk about but that.”

“Well, you love the attention, so don’t act brand new now,” she teased, watching as he peeled off his hoodie, revealing the tattoos that decorated across his chest and arms.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted, stepping closer to the bed.  His gaze darkened as it swept over her, lingering on the way the t-shirt stretched over her curves.  “But you love it too, don’t you, mama?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but her smile gave her away.  “What I love is you keeping your mouth shut about why you call yourself that.”

Jimmy grinned, climbing onto the bed, his weight dipping the mattress as he crawled toward her.  “Oh, yeah?  Why’s that?”

“Because it’s nobody’s business but ours,” she said firmly, though her breath hitched as he slid a hand up her thigh, his fingers brushing the bare skin beneath the shirt.

“That’s right,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her, his lips soft but insistent against hers.  “Ain’t nobody else gonna know what I’m packin’—‘cept for you, baby.”

The kiss deepened quickly, his tongue sweeping past her lips as his hands roamed her body, squeezing her thighs, her waist, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him.  His hard length was already straining against his sweats, and Amara couldn’t help but grind against him, her own arousal building with every touch.

“You feel that, pretty girl?” he whispered against her lips, his voice a low growl.  “That’s why they call me Big Jim. You remember, don’t you?”

Amara whimpered softly, her hands gripping his shoulders as he pushed her onto her back, his weight pressing her into the mattress.  “I couldn’t forget,” she murmured, her voice breathy.

Jimmy chuckled, kissing her again, slower this time, as his hands slipped under the hem of the shirt, dragging it up her body.  “Good.  ‘Cause I’m about to remind you, baby.  You ready for that?”

Her answer was a needy kiss, her hands tugging at the waistband of his sweats, desperate to feel all of him.  Jimmy took his time, though, stripping her down from her shirt to her skimpy panties, his lips and hands worshipping every inch of her as he went.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his eyes raking over her naked body as she lay beneath him.  “So fuckin’ pretty, mama.  Every time I see you, I swear you get finer.”

“Jimmy...” she whimpered, her thighs squeezing together as his hands spread them apart again.

“Nah, don’t hide from me girl,” he said, his voice firm but teasing.  “You know I love seein’ all of you.”

His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin before sucking gently, leaving marks that she knew she’d have to cover up the next day. But she didn’t care—not when his mouth kept moving lower, over her chest, her stomach, until he was between her thighs, his breath warm against her heated core.

Jimmy grinned up at her, his hands gripping her thighs as he kissed her inner thigh, biting softly before dragging his tongue over the spot.  “You want Daddy to take care of you, baby girl?”

Her answer was a soft moan, her fingers tangling in his hair as he spread her glistening lips open with his thumbs, his mouth descending on her swollen clit.

Jimmy’s tongue worked her like he had all the time in the world. He dragged it through her slick folds, savoring the taste of her, groaning against her pussy like he couldn’t get enough. Amara’s thighs trembled, her hands gripping his hair as he sucked her clit into his mouth, alternating between teasing licks and firm pressure.

“Jimmy...  oh, my God,” she whimpered, her back arching off the mattress as his hands gripped her thighs tighter, holding her in place.

“Nah, baby,” he murmured between kisses to her sensitive bud.  “Ain’t no God here. Jus’ me. And I’m the only one you gon’ pray to tonight.”

The cocky rasp in his voice sent another wave of heat crashing through her, and she couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from her lips when he dipped lower to her entrance, his tongue slipping inside her.  He thrust it in and out, his nose nudging her clit, and the combination had her gasping, her head tossing back against the pillows.

“Jimmy! o-oh—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he growled, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his beard glistening with her arousal.  “Give it to me, mama.”

His fingers replaced his tongue, sliding into her pussy curving just right to hit that special spot inside her that made her see stars.  His tongue returned to her clit, flicking it mercilessly as his fingers plunged into her over and over.

Amara’s body tensed, her thighs trembling as she was pushed toward the edge. And then, with a sharp cry, she came, her release soaking his fingers as her hips jerked uncontrollably.

“Goddamn,” Jimmy muttered, licking his fingers clean, his eyes dark with hunger as he looked down at her.  “You always make such a big mess, baby. Can’t get enough of you.”

Before she could catch her breath, he was on her again, dragging her into his lap.  He sat back against the headboard, his sweats already discarded, his thick, heavy dick standing proud between them.  The sheer size of him made her thighs clench instinctively, and Jimmy caught the flicker of awe in her eye.

“C’mon, mama,” he said, his hands gripping her waist as he guided her over him, teasing her entrance with the tip.  “You’ve taken it before.  You can take it again. You’re my good girl, ain’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her breath catching as she lowered herself onto him.

The stretch was intense, almost too much, and Jimmy groaned low in his throat, his fingers flexing against her hips as she sank down, inch by inch, until he bottomed out.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, his head falling back against the headboard as he felt her walls squeezing him.  “Look at you, takin’ all of me.  Pussy so fuckin’ tight for me.  You feel that, huh?”

Amara whimpered, shifting her hips a little.  “You’re so big, Daddy,” she gasped, her voice trembling.

“I know, baby.  I know,” Jimmy murmured, his hands sliding up to cup her ass, squeezing it as he began to guide her movements.  “But you’re takin’ it so good.  Just like you always do.”

She started to move, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had them both moaning.  Jimmy’s hands roamed her body, tracing the curve of her waist, her breasts, her thighs, like he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“That’s my good girl,” he said, groaning.  “Look at you. Ridin’ daddy like a pro. Fuckin’ made for me.”

Amara’s pace quickened, her thighs burning with effort as she chased the pleasure building inside her.  Jimmy watched her intently, his eyes fixed on the way her body moved, the way her nails dug into his chest as she lost herself to the rhythm.

“You close, baby?” he asked, his voice teasing.  “You gon’ cum on Daddy’s dick?”

“Yes, yes,” she whimpered, her head tipping back as the pleasure surged through her, overwhelming her.

Jimmy grinned, gripping her waist tighter as he thrust up into her, meeting her movements with his own.  “That’s it, baby.  Cum for me.  Let me feel you.”

Her climax hit her once again, trembling as she cried and cursed out his name. Jimmy groaned, his dick twitching inside her as her walls clenched around him.

But he wasn’t done.

“Turn around,” he says softly but firm.

Amara obeyed, her body still trembling as she shifted into reverse cowgirl, her hands gripping his thighs for balance.  Jimmy’s hands were back on her ass in an instant, spreading her cheeks as he guided her back onto him.

“Look at this fuckin’ view,” he muttered, giving her ass a sharp smack that made her yelp.  “You’re so goddamn sexy, baby.  Can’t get enough of your pretty ass.”

He thrust up into her, the angle hitting deeper than before, and Amara’s cries filled the room as he pounded into her.

“Fuck, daddy!” she sobbed, her head falling forward as tears pricked her eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips as he drove into her harder, faster.  “You so pretty when you cry for me.”

Amara’s third orgasm ripped through her, her body shaking as her squirted around him, soaking his thighs.  Jimmy didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, still  pounding into her relentlessly as he chased his own climax.

“On your back mama,” he demanded, his voice rough.

She barely had time to move before he flipped her onto the mattress, folding her knees to her chest as he slid back inside her.  His thrusts were deeper, slower, and Amara’s cries got louder as the pleasure overwhelmed her again.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his cock driving into her with enough force to make the bed creak.  “I’m gon’ cum baby.  You want that, huh?  Want daddy to cum inside you?”

“Yes, Daddy, please!” she cried, her nails digging into his shoulders.

With a final, deep thrust, Jimmy came, his dick twitching as he spilled inside her, the warmth flooding her walls.  He groaned low in his throat, his hips jerking as he emptied himself, his release spilling out of her as he stayed buried deep.

When he finally pulled out, Amara was trembling, her thighs soaked, her body completely spent.  Jimmy grinned down at her, leaning in to kiss her softly, his lips lingering against hers.

He rolled onto his side, draping an arm over her body as they lay tangled together in the sheets.  Her chest was still rising and falling heavily, a flush blooming across her brown skin as she tried to catch her breath.  Jimmy’s head rested on her shoulder, his lips brushing against her collarbone, leaving lazy kisses like he was tending to a delicate flower.

“You alive down there, mama?” he murmured, grinning against her skin.

“Barely,” Amara muttered, her voice muffled as she pressed a hand to her forehead, feigning exasperation.  “I can’t believe you.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows shot up in mock offense as he propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with an exaggerated pout.  “What you mean you can’t believe me? Girl  I’m out here givin’ you the best dick of your life, and this is the thanks I get?”

She swatted his chest lightly, but her lips betrayed her with a small smile.  “You know damn well you’re a show off. Who does all that and still has the audacity to talk shit after?”

“Me,” Jimmy said proudly, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.  “Big Jim, baby.  That’s what I do.”

Amara rolled her eyes, but she was laughing now, the sound bubbling up soft and carefree.  Jimmy grinned down at her, loving the sight of her like this; relaxed, happy, and vulnerable.

“You know what?” he said suddenly, his tone playful as he leaned down to kiss her again, this time pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, then her nose, then her forehead, each kiss accompanied by a dramatic “mwah!”

Amara squirmed under his affection, giggling as she tried to push him away.  “Jim, stop!  You’re so annoying!”

“Nah, I ain’t stoppin’,” he said, wrapping his arms around her tighter, trapping her against him.  “I’m annoyin’, but you love it. Don’t even lie.”

“Do not,” she huffed, though her grin said otherwise.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, leaning back just enough to look her in the eye.  “Oh, so you don’t love it when I hold you like this?  Or when I kiss you like this?” He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips that made her toes curl despite her resolve.

“Maybe,” she whispered, her voice soft now, her gaze flicking away shyly.

“Maybe?” Jimmy repeated, chuckling as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.  “Nah, mama.  Say it right.  You love it.”

Amara bit her lip, eyes rolling and her cheeks warm as she finally relented.  “Fine.  I love it.”

Jimmy beamed, his grin wide and boyish, and he pressed his forehead to hers, their noses brushing.  “Damn right you do.”

The moment softened, their laughter fading into quiet, affectionate silence as Jimmy reached up to tuck a stray coil behind her ear.  His hand lingered, cupping her cheek as his thumb brushed her skin.

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he said, “Now, don’t be surprised when I tell the next interviewer they gotta ask you why they call me Big Jim.  You better have somethin’ good ready to tell ‘em.”

Amara groaned, covering her face with her hands as she burst out laughing.  “You’re annoying!”

“You love it though,” he teased, pulling her into his chest, holding her tight as her laughter echoed around them.

And damn it she did.

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[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: You're a lesbian

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Dabi + Bakugo + Mirio

Reaction: Revealing your sexual orientation to your kidnapper is more tense that you expected.

WARNINGS: Kidnapped reader; Manipulation; Threats; Discrimination against LGBTQ.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback. 🙂

–

“I like girls.” 

The words escape from your lips, rushed and dripping of anxiety, and you immediately bite your tongue, already regretting your confession. 

Hawks

“Yeah, I know.” he yawns, rubbing his eyes. “Damn, I’m so tired right now. Think I might head to bed early.”

“Wait!” you grab his hand in a frantic move, stopping him from leaving the couch.

“Wh-What do you mean ‘you know’? If you knew, then why did you take me?!” 

“Cause I love you.” Keigo calmly says, as if that answers everything. “And truth be told, the whole lesbian thing seems like an insignificant detail to me.” 

Your whole face drops at that and Keigo immediately reaches for you, cooing. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that.” he consoles you, even though there’s a slight curl of his lip that proves the lack of regret or sadness. “But, in all honesty, that doesn’t really matter, does it? You’re here now, with me. You can like whoever you want, really. But c’mon, babe, we both know damn well that the only person you’re gonna have is me.”

“But I don’t love you.” you weakly try. 

“Yet. You don’t love me yet.” Keigo corrects you, booping your nose with a kiss. “But that’s gonna change real soon, I bet. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, I promise."

"Cause it’s either me or no one.” 

Dabi

“Yeah? Don’t you say.” 

You blink at him, fighting back the anxiety and confusion that bubbles inside you.

Dabi approaches you, the corner of his mouth twitching as an amused smile takes over. He reaches closer as he sits on the verge of the bed, a bit too close for your comfort.

If you could, you’d put some distance between you - but the solid chain on your ankle doesn’t allow you to do so. 

“What makes you think I give a fuck about that?” his smile widens at your confusion, all teeth and staples stretching. “Lesbian or not, you’re still mine.”

Your eyes load up with warm tears, a pitiful reaction that is starting to become too frequent. But you guess you can’t blame yourself when a half-burned villain is keeping you captive and chained up. 

“I can’t be who you want me to be.” you whisper with a voice low. Begging with your eyes. “Please.”

Long fingers reach for your face, uncomfortably hot, as they brush a strand of hair away from your face. 

“Sounds like a problem you’ve created for yourself. What makes you think I give a damn about what you are or what you aren’t?” his smile gets cruel, sadistic. “I don’t really care about any of that shit.”

“Cause lesbian or not, I’m still gonna make you spread those pretty legs wide for me.”

Mirio

You bitterly watch as Mirio spits out thunderous laughter, grabbing his belly as if you’ve just told him the funniest joke ever.

“Now that…that was really funny!” he says, breathless as another fit of laughter makes its way up. “Didn’t know you were so humorous, huh. My girl has a sense of humor, I like that.” 

You dodge when he tries to pat down your hair. 

“It’s not a joke.”

“Of course it is.” Mirio contradicts you with a big grin. “And a good one.”

“Mirio…”

You barely have time to react before his lips are pushing against yours, soft and firm.

His hand sneaks to grab the back of your head with his palm, forcing you to stay put and take his kiss. He tastes like mint, fresh and clean. 

“You’re so silly.” Mirio laughs when he finally parts away the kiss. “My silly little girl. See, if you were lesbian, then you wouldn’t have kissed me. That means you’re not…that.” 

“Besides, if you really were a lesbian,” he starts, smile is still present, wide and shiny, but his voice is stiff, restrained. “that wouldn’t be good. Not for you, at least. Cause I’d have to take some really serious measures to get you back on track. But I know that won’t be necessary, right?”

And you’re too scared to argue back when he pats your head, satisfied with your submission.

Bakugo

“Uh?” 

His sharp features frown, shock and surprise clearly taking the best of him. 

The way he opens his mouth, only to close it when no words come out - and the repetition of this sequence for a few times - is almost comical, but the deeply engraved fear in your heart doesn’t allow you to find any sort of humor in this situation. 

Bakugo claims to love you. As a man loves a woman. 

So it’s only understandable that his reaction to you confessing to liking women isn’t gonna be euphoric.

Part of you is scared that he might hurt you, beat you to a bloody pulp until you change your mind. You hope he doesn’t.  

“Cut the crap.” he shakes his head, deep frown between his brows. “I know you’re not…lesbian or whatever.” 

“I am.” 

“No.” 

“Bakugo, please.” you plead. “I really am. I’ve always been-”

“The fuck you are, damnit!” he snaps, raising himself so hard that the poor chair underneath him violently stumbles back, falling to the ground with a loud thump.

You wince, but Bakugo doesn’t reach for you, as you expected him to. Instead, he remains standing, hands tightly clenched around nothing and jaw rigidly set. “I know damn well what you are, don't try to fool me!” 

“I-”

“This one of your stupid little stunts, isn't it?” he cuts you off. You yelp when his hand flies forward, wrapping itself around your forearm and pulling you dangerously close to him. “Last week was the good girl act to try to escape and this week you’re pulling this shit up? Fucking behave, will you?”  

“I-”

“Shut your mouth, damnit!” a shiver runs down your spine as he glares at you, clearly pissed off. “The only words I wanna hear coming from you are apologizes.” 

“And don’t fucking piss me off with that crap again or you might not like what I’ll do.”

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

The only correctly-phrased version of this news I've seen. An important highlight:

Older teens and females were most likely to meet formal definitions, the authors said. "We did not find that symptoms or their impact differed by vaccination status," the authors wrote.

By Stephanie Soucheray, MA

A new study from UK investigators shows that—while most COVID-19 patients ages 11 to 17 who reported long-COVID symptoms 3 months after the initial infection no longer experienced lingering symptoms at 2 years—29% still did.

The findings, published in the journal Communications Medicine, come from the National Long COVID in Children and Young People cohort study, which followed up on thousands of young people after their COVID-19 diagnoses.

More than 70% recovered by 2 years In total, 12,632 participants were included in the study. Participants who were aged 11 to 17 years between September 2020 and March 2021 were asked about their health 3, 6, 12, and 24 months after taking a polymerase chain reaction (PCR) test for COVID.

Among the participants, 943 had tested positive when first approached and completed surveys through 24 months. At 3 months, 233 met the research definition of long COVID. After 6 months, 135 continued to meet the definition, and by 12 months that number dropped to 94 participants.

Two years after initial infection, 68 of 943 participants (7.2%) still met the criteria for long COVID. That means 165 of the 233 young people (70.8%) who had long COVID 3 months after infection and provided information at every time point in the research had recovered. But 68 of the 233 (29.2%) did not.

"Our findings show that for teenagers who fulfilled our research definition of long Covid three months after a positive test for the Covid virus, the majority have recovered after two years," said study author, Sir Terence Stephenson, PhD in a press release from University College London. "This is good news but we intend to do further research to try to better understand why 68 teenagers had not recovered.”

No differences related to vaccination status Among all teens included in the study, those who reported COVID reinfections during the study period had the most symptoms through 24 months.

The most common symptoms reported were tiredness, trouble sleeping, shortness of breath, and headache. Symptom prevalence was generally higher in those with recurrent SARS-CoV-2 infection compared to those who never tested positive for the virus, the authors said.

Overall, 20% to 25% of all infection status groups reported three or more symptoms 24 months post-testing, with 10% to 25% experiencing five or more symptoms. Not all who reported symptoms, however, met the formal criteria for long COVID. In fact, five or more symptoms were reported by 14.2% of those who never tested positive for SARS-CoV-2, and by 20.8% of those with at least two infections.

Older teens and females were most likely to meet formal definitions, the authors said. "We did not find that symptoms or their impact differed by vaccination status," the authors wrote.

Study link: www.nature.com/articles/s43856-024-00657-x

[misspelledwordswizard]

Hello there!✨️ First of all, I wanted to say that your writing is amazing! Keep up the good work ;3.

Anyway, I wanted to make a request (if you have too many, please ignore this. Don't overwork yourself). This might be a little cliche, but here is what I had in mind. "The Chain x Mulan!Reader." Mostly their reaction when they find out that the reader is a female.

Like the boys, the reader has the spirit of the hero, but in her time, women aren't allowed to fight or do anything that the men do at all. So, just like Mulan, the reader runs away from home, pretends to be a boy, and fights against Ganon's armies. Even after meeting the Chain, her identity remains hidden. One day, she gets badly hurt, and when they tend to her wounds that's when they notice that he is a she.

You can ignore this if you want ^^, but yeah, that is basically my request. Have a great day, evening, or night.

Again, your work is amazing! ✨️✨️✨️👏✨️✨️✨️

Oh, you are so sweet, thank you so much!!! I really loved doing this, did I mention I love mixing fandoms? cuz I love it so much! Anyway, I hope you like it, dear <3333

The fight against the group of Bokoblins was going smoothly, that is until a Moblin appeared, right behind me, while I was dealing with one of them, a particularly strong one. I must admit that I’ve had better days, this wasn’t a day when I was lucky, I dare say I was very unlucky today, but that was certainly the worst part. 

I barely had time to turn around to see the monster before being hit hard by its attack, and suddenly, Boom, I blacked out. Darkness, I can’t feel my body, and I don’t even know what was happening to my companions. My mind guided me to the day I met them, my fellow heroes, who bore a similar fate to mine, with one small big difference, of course. 

It was a strange day a few months ago, I passed through a suspicious portal thinking it might be some kind of enemy attack, and suddenly I fall in front of nine heroes of Hyrule from different eras.  They welcomed me as one of their own, even though I wasn’t so sure about it myself, and since then we’ve been working together on this mission to stop the shadow and its abnormally strong monsters. Simple, right? 

Wrong, not simple at all. Of course, I already have some experience in hiding my true gender, after all, I had to do it throughout my adventure to save Hyrule in the past, the problem is that now I was constantly surrounded by men! This ended up becoming a huge nightmare. As much as I like the boys, as much as I now see them as my own family, I don’t know if I can tell them the truth. No one knows about this secret of mine, and I fear how they might react, so I’ve been avoiding the subject. 

It was hard, really hard.  Like the times they decided to all go into the river together to cool off, it was hard enough to deal with all those shirtless men without freaking out, and it was even worse because they expected me to do the same, and when I didn’t, they were all over me, worried, thinking there was something wrong, that maybe I was sick or insecure about scars, which they made a point of giving me a lecture about how normal it was, and that I should be proud of mine, because they showed that I was a survivor. Very welcoming, but I still didn’t go in. 

Even with these difficulties, so far, I have managed to hide my secret well, for my own safety. Until now. 

When I finally woke up from my blackout, I felt lost, it took me a while to notice the new environment and my traveling companions who had gathered around me. I was lying on the bed of an inn, everyone was looking at me with curiosity and concern as I tried to sit up in bed, the blanket slipped, revealing that I was without my tunic.  I wore a girdle around my torso that helped to reduce the volume of my bust and keep it mostly hidden, but without the layers of clothing to disguise it, there was no way they could help but notice my visibly feminine silhouette, and it was quite obvious that they had already noticed it. 

It didn’t take long for panic to start to hit me, all the nervousness, the anguish that I kept along with my secrets, ready to overflow. I could feel my own body reacting to this, heating up uncomfortably, and apparently the others noticed it too. Time approached me and rubbed my back gently, in an attempt to calm me down. 

— Calm down, breathe, it’s okay, you don’t need to be nervous. 

— I... – Tears overcame me before I could formulate a complete sentence, which made the task even more difficult. – I’m sorry! I had to do this, no one would ever accept that the hero of the kingdom was a woman, it was the only way. I didn’t have the courage to tell you because I didn’t want you to see me as incapable or treat me differently, please, please don’t hate me! 

The tears, the occasional sobs and my crying voice only made everything harder to understand, and I didn’t have the courage to look them in the eyes, I didn’t want to see their faces of disappointment. The wound on my back hurt as I curled up trying to hide my humiliation. 

— Hate you? What the hell are you talking about, why would we hate you, girl?! – The Veteran’s somewhat aggressive voice left me confused about how I should feel, but his sentence left me confused. 

— Yeah, there’s no reason for that, my dear, it’s understandable that you were afraid to reveal your secret when you were raised with such prejudiced thoughts, but that just shows us how strong you were. – The calmness in Sky’s speech was comforting, but I was still confused. Didn’t they care, really? 

— Your gender doesn’t change who you are, nor does it make you weaker or more incapable, it just shows how amazing you are for being able to deal with all of this! – The Champion’s excitement and support helped me gather courage and look at them again. 

— But... aren’t you mad that I hid this from you? – Even calmer, my crying voice still remained as I sniffled trying to control myself. Twilight just shook her head, as if this was an absurd idea.   

— Of course not, you were just protecting yourself, darlin’.  

— Actually, now that makes a lot of sense, it explains a few things... – The Traveler says thoughtfully, before turning his attention back to me. – And most importantly, are you feeling any pain? – I just shake my head negatively, it was nothing serious, it seems like my injury was practically healed.  

— Look, no matter what they say, you’re one of us, okay? Never forget that. – Warriors speaks in a soft and comforting voice, and I tried hard not to burst into tears again, wiping the tears before they could fall and giving a smile that was a mix of relief and happiness.  

Wind approached me and hugged me tightly, I couldn’t hold it this time and shed a few tears seeing my boy being so affectionate and understanding, partly also because this hug was very close to where I had been hit, but he didn’t need to know that.  I hug him back until he finally pulls away to look at me, wiping away his own tears. 

— Look how cool, now besides being able to say that I have eight super cool older brothers, I can also say that I have an even cooler older sister! – His excitement at this fact made me laugh, and I ruffled his hair affectionately.  

— To tell you the truth, I already knew. – Four’s speech made everyone’s attention turn to him. – I mean, there were some small details that made me suspicious, but I kept quiet, especially since the secret wasn’t mine. I figured you’d say something when you felt ready, and I didn’t see any problem with that. – He just shrugged naturally. His cunning and intelligence sometimes scares me, usually those with the hero’s spirit don’t use their brains much, we usually leave that job to the princesses.  

— By the way... – My attention went back to the Sailor, who seemed thoughtful. – Is your name really Link?  

— No! – I said and laughed at the suspicious expression the youngest gave me.  – I just used it as a codename, if I used my real name, it would be pretty obvious that I’m a woman. And also, that’s the Hero’s name, right? – Everyone seemed to agree with the logic, but it didn’t diminish their curiosity about my real name, which I had no problem revealing. 

— Well, at least now you’ll be lucky enough to be called by your name, unlike the rest of us who have to deal with this bunch of nicknames to try to differentiate ourselves! – Legend pointed out, making me laugh. 

I can get used to being called by my real name again. 

[fantasticarcadefan]

First there was war.

|Warning, graphic descriptions, calculated desperation, curse words, refers to untold amounts of trauma caused by deaths to the reader|

|Imposter SAGAU x Soulsborne Female Creator|

Part 1/2

(First time gendering the reader, throw a sky scraper of criticism onto me on where to improve)

You've been sent to hell and back several times, and now she thinks she can admit it and live? Be her judgement for her transgression.

If fate was a person, you would chop them into pencil shaving sized pieces while it's still alive.

You don't remember when this all started, all you do recall is that you fell asleep one day and the next, you ended up in a land called Boletaria, starting your lives in hell. And it has been about the same situation ever since, with you being transported into several other worlds, all of which had you die. A lot.

Whether it was Yharnim, the Lands Between, Sengoku Era Japan, or the three kingdoms that need a flame to be re-lit to keep humanity thriving, all had a common factor of putting you through hell, dying over and over again and losing those you cared about in each world, with the only benefits you had were that your skills had sharpened over time with each death and that your gear was saved and interchangeable per world.

But even that wasn't fully a blessing, with you often needing to do several of what you call endings, a different fate that would take hold in what ever world you were in, making you lose all of the weapons that you gathered in that world.

And as a result, you became akin to a shell of yourself with how you've changed. If you were to suddenly be taken back to Earth and see your family and friends again, you're sure they wouldn't recognize you.

Worse still, you remembered each death and life you lived vividly, and every friend from those worlds that you lost.

Yet for some reason, you always had the courage to go forward. You always had hope for a better tomorrow, with it growing more and more in each hell you entered and left.

Now, you find yourself chained up in the chamber of a massive chapel, standing in front of your doppelganger, the supposed creator of Teyvat, with her babbling on and on about god knows what, being adorned in what you assumed to be the finest clothes and jewelry they have gotten from the people.

Around you, a huge crowd of said people consisting of both NPC'S and most of the characters that you used to admire listened on to her fervently, with the archons besides Furina who may have been among the sea of people in the crowd with Neuvillette taking her place flanking this clone of you.

Oddly enough, you find yourself wearing the same clothes that you wore when you fell asleep on your last night on Earth.

Honestly, if it weren't the tight chains on you, you're pretty sure you would have fallen asleep several times over due to how annoying she was. Compared to those-

"Are you even listening to me??!!" The imposter yells out, bringing you back to reality with that indignant look on her face.

A moment of silence befell the chamber as all the attention was focused on you, awaiting your reaction. You tried to think of a response, trying to recall what they were talking about. Eventually, you came up with nothing and were unable to think of an excuse.

"I'm sorry, sir what were we talking about?" You asked. The crowd yelled in uproar, unconvinced that you didn't know about your focus.

A blade suddenly appeared in front of you, almost slicing your neck, with its owner, Raiden Ei, on your right. "I would suggest you listen more carefully, heretic. Though their grace wants you alive, she has said nothing about harming you." Ei says, her voice full of venom. "Her word is eternal, while you're damned to the pages of history."

"Enough Raiden." The Imposter said, calling the Electro Archon back. Ei shot one final glare at you before returning to the imposter's side.

"You know, for someone who has gone through the abyss and back, you seem to be as defiant, like you're proud of your transgressions when I'm offering you a chance of redemption." The imposter monologues, getting your attention. How did she know about where you've been.

"I wonder," She continues. "If i brought you here before you were sentenced, would you be as high and mighty as you act, usurper?"

Silence is your response. 'Sentence? What does she mean by before?' You wonder, caution and anger rising at what she's implying. "What are you talking about?" You ask. The crowd gasps before more talking comes from them. 'Drama queens.' You think before focusing on "you".

"We both know what I'm talking about, but it seems I may have to remind you, demon." She says, her tone full of venom before taking a deep breath before telling her story.

"Long ago, shortly after I reascended into Celestia, you went ahead and appeared at the tree of Imursul, altering its knowledge so that you would descend in my place instead. Luckily, I found the change and once I descended, I made some, adjustments to yours, giving you some, "detours", before your audience with me." She says, with a smile appearing on her face.

The color starts to leave your face, before it returns, flooded by red rage. All of this, over you claiming to be someone that you didn't know exists, and the result was you put into hell over and over again.

"All of that didn't have to happen had you not sought to rule. That is the only way this could've been avoided."

A million thoughts run through your mind. All centered on making this bitch suffer. But deep in your mind, one thing always comes up.

You only got one shot at this. Take her out, and this eternal nightmare is over. No more hells, no more dying over and over.

And so, steeling your resolve, and a plan in mind, you take a deep breath, before devoiding your face and voice of emotion. Though you had no weapons on you, you were unsure of how else to push through.

"I finally get it." You say, your head facing the floor.

The crowd starts murmuring, eager to see what would happen, how you would confess, and your punishment that they'd see.

"Oh? And what would that be?" She asks, amused.

"You're not the benevolent goddess that gave life to Teyvat, rather your the primordial sin!" You yell at her, shooting your head up and staring directly into her eyes.

Uproar comes from the crowd, with a wave of disapproval and rage coming from them.

The archons and Neuvillette have varying reactions.

Zhongli and Ei look ready to tear you apart while internally hurting on the inside, seemingly trying to reject your words.

Venti has a stone face but you can sense a tone of sadness in him.

Nahida has a smirk appear in hear face before returning it to an emotionless one.

Neuvillette seems to have taken a deep breath while cooling his emotions, making him unreadable and unsure if he feels rage or sadness.

Mavuika meanwhile, showed a determined look, liking the prospect of a fight, but her eyes seem to betray her body's ideals, with tears rising in her eyes.

The Tsaritsa's face showed that of anger while her eyes agreed with you, semmingly longing to stand beside you.

At least, that's what you hoped they were thinking. For in truth, you had no idea on their internal stuggles since this "creator" was thrown into the picture.

"Deny it all you want, you know it's true!" You yell, stoking the flames. "Every tragedy that has occurred, she's been responsible for! The Archon War! The monsters of the world! Khaenr'iah! All of it was preventable!" You yell, eyeing the archons to see who'd react first.

"But nooo. She had to make you all suffer to determine your "devotion", and failed as a cre-!"

Unable to bear it, EI went ahead and tried to strike you down while Zhongli trying to crush you where you stood. In a second, you pulled on your arm chains hard, catching the guards off as you had the chains take your necks place for the chopping block.

As they were cut, you felt electricity course into your veins from the chains electrifying you and those that held your leg chains, in which you saw them let go of your leg chains.

Looking up to see the falling meteor, you jumped ahead, avoiding the meteor, but your chains were caught in its impact zone.

Seeing this, you tilted your feet and wrists for them to come off easier. Though both hurt,and you likely sprained a few of your toe and finger bones, you were now free from being held back, now able to pursue the look-alike.

"Jackpot." You say, sporting a malevolent smile as you look at your doppelganger in the eyes.

The imposter, horrified, started getting up. "K-Kill her!" She yelled. "Everyone, kill her! Don't let her get close to me!" She said, descending the throne.

Following those words, the entire room mobilized. All there began to climb out of their seats and rush to you, with the guards there leading the way. All of the archons and Neuvillette besides the Tsaritsa, Nahida, and Venti were moving to kill you, with them beside Nahida escorting your look-alike who was leaving the room. The youngest archon, seemingly slipping off and going elsewhere.

Wasting no time, you run after the imposter, juking out arrows, evading melee stikes from various weapons, and having others take the fall for elemental attacks, all the while closing the distance.

You felt electricity charging up from behind you, sensing EI likely gonna try to decapitate you again. Ahead of you, Zhongli is rushing you, spear in hand, with various metals charging up the spear.

Rushing to Zhongli, you waited for Ei to be near you as Zhongli closed the distance too. Once both were near, you jumped out of the way, having their blades connect and shock both you and those nearby, slightly burning you but giving you a clear pathway to the imposter.

"Get back here you coward!" You yell, nearing her, only to see Mauvkia appear on your left, with her about to punch into your gut, no way to dodge it.

Seeing no other options, you use your left arm to take the impact of the punch, expecting it to be dislocated or broken, only for something to appear in a flash of light, taking the impact.

Being sent back, you then find something in your right hand as you're flying across the chamber before using it to halt launch by striking it into the ground.

Once you've come to a stop, you look at what's in your hands, only to be struck by an all too familiar feeling of recent nostalgia.

In your right hand resides a sword that seemed to glow of light, likely from Lothric Castle from one of the three kingdoms. In your left was a shield originating from Boletaria.

A smile appeared on your face, taking in your weapons, as something in the back of your mind told you these weren't your only ones.

Looking at your attackers, you didn't know if this was either the end or a new beginning to your hell, but this just got a lot more familiar. And you preferred your comfort zone, especially in times like this.

"Let's get a little crazy." You say, tightening your shield's strap, rushing into the oncoming of attackers, determined to carve your way through them to your look alike.

Rushing at the attackers, you roll under one, parrying a second into the third, and dodging several other attacks.

Feeling a sharp pain move across your right elbow, you see a bullet pass by you, coming from your elbow, looking back, you see the assailant being Navia, who shot at you again.

Dodging it, you then feel your shield changing, with you feeling a trigger going into your hands. Without a second thought, you pull it, hearing something fire at Navia, before seeing that she was hit in the right arm before being surrounded by several other foes.

Glimpsing at what you pulled, you realize that it's a blunderbuss, one that you used in Yharnim.

But it's only for a moment before you're under attack again with you swapping your blunderbuss back to your shield and having it block another strike. Looking back to where the imposter went, you begin running there, only to be unable to move, under attack on all sides.

Parrying Jean's thrust before blocking Diluc's heavy slash behind you, and then dodging out of the way of Candace impaling you, you twirled once, to block Jean's next attack, when she and those close to you suddenly got forced back by something.

Looking down, you noticed a projection of a dragon's tail on you, reminiscent of those used by the crucible knights that you fought in the lands between.

Looking up, you noticed more foes coming for your head on all sides. Twirling again, you see a greatly longer tail smashing into your more of your attackers, throwing them off of their feet.

Looking back to where your imposter ran off to, you ran over those you used to idolize while dodging the incoming projectiles from those still up and rushing you.

Nearing the doorway, something tells you of an incoming attack moving fast. Sensing it, you turn to it with your shield raised, only for a ray of continuous water to hit against your shield.

Looking above the shield, you see the aggressor being Neuvillette, blasting you with water before yelling "Now!", to someone if out your view.

Suddenly, an arrow of electro was shot into the water spout, with it moving up the spout as Neuvillette endured the electro energy affecting him.

In an attempt to lessen the damage, you drop your sword, but you would do something that you didn't know was possible, for you only saw it done by only a handful of foes.

Reaching out to the arrow before it hits your shield, you somehow manage to grab it, stunning Neuvillette and those that were nearby.

Looking back at Neuvillette, you squeeze the arrow, golden electricity now coursing through the arrow which now has taken the form of a lightning bolt 'Just like Radagon' You think, recalling the Second Elden Lord.

Twirling the arrow, you can't help but recall the first time you saw him use that. It was a shocker, seeing him be able to do that. Then again, you also did recall some other foes in the other worlds.

And suddenly, you find yourself as Radagon, and in-front of you stood a single tarnished. Their gender unidentifiable, and face masked.

You know not of whether this is a new reality made by the imposter, another power that is seemingly awakening, or if this is some mental illusion. In your right hand was the lightning bolt that he(or she? He was basically Marika) held. Aiming the lightning bolt at the Tarnished, you aim it at them, seemingly able to set the charge of the lightning bolt to incapacitate, and hurl it.

When it hit, the sound of a thousand screams hit, with the Tarnished collapsing, ending the vision. Looking around, all that were in the chamber had collapsed, with them all in various states of pain, but not dead.

Despite what they've done, you still feel remorse for them. For not only is the pain all to familiar to you, but some of them still are the characters that you adored back on Earth.

A sudden head ache emerges, and you grasp your head, unsure of where it came from as you try to bring it down, taking you down memory lane.

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The place could be best described as a void, with the only entrance in here sealed. You wore an armor set with a helmet that didn't have a face covering. In each hand resides a scimitar that you found during your travels.

Each scimitar had its own ash of war, special skills that could be applied to your weapons. Your right one caused blood loss after continuous hits as well as attack enemies in a short range of you while your left dealt frost damage.

You had gotten this modified set idea from a well known Tarnished who was basically nude, with him only having cloth covering his privates and a pot on his head for some reason. Despite this, he was a natural killer, slaughtering great foes and shard barrers with ease.

In front of you stood Radagon, the second Elden Lord. He had grayish cracked skin while still sporting healthy red hair, his chest bare besides the emblem of the Elden ring. All he wore were faded pants from what you saw. In his right hand, he held a golden hammer, the same one in which Queen Marika, or himself (You still questioned why she made a gendered clone of herself) used to shatter the Elden Ring untold time ago.

Running up to him, you waited for him to take the bait and as he swung his hammer down, you dodged out of the way, and began to stab into his side, trying to cut a way into his skin and freeze his blood, assuming there was any.

You managed to get a few hits in before being hit by Radagon, his hammer throwing you back a couple of feet. Wincing from the pain as you got up, you noticed how there seemed to be a hole in his skin connecting to something.

Forming a plan, you stored your left scimitar away and swapped it out for a staff. You sent 3 fireballs before rushing Lord Radagon, intending to use it as cover for you to rush up to him.

As the trio were launched, you ran to him, swapping your staff back for your scimitar.

As the fireballs neared the old Elden Lord, he did something you didn't know was possible. Using his hammer, he hit two of the fireballs back towards you before grabbing the third one and doing something to it.

Focusing on the incoming projectiles, you dodged out of the way of the first fireball before trying and failing to do what Radagon did to the second one with your scimitar, taking the heat to your face and gear, blocking your line of sight.

'Fucking Hell,' You thought, coughing through the smoke, waving your hand to clear it. 'Seems that one of the perks of being a god is that you get to do that sort of shit with your bare hands..'

Your thoughts ran cold as the smoke cleared. Radagon had seemed to convert the third fireball into a thunderbolt, which he now held in his bare hands and was aiming it at you.

As Radagon threw it at you, you dodged out of the way, only for the lightning bolt to explode upon nearing you where it exploded, electrocuting and burning your body, your nerves being fried and Arteries bursting, followed with your body hitting the cool, empty void.

As death's grasp covers you in its all too familiar embrace, memories of your life up to now hit you. From your earliest memories, to your awakening in Boletaria, to lighting the flame in the first kingdom, putting it out in the third, and then your duel with Gerhman to try and let him finally rest in the waking world, were some of the memories that filled your mind.

As you recalled the most recent battles with Radagon, you came to a conclusion upon recalling this duel.

'Attempt 89 failed. gonna need a new strategy... again'.

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

Removing your hand from your head, you take a moment of thought when recalling that memory. 'Damn, that seriously caught me off guard. Then again, I should've expected that since they were a...'

Your thoughts shift back to the crowd ahead of you. Most of those that are there are on the ground, incapacitated but alive, you're somehow able to tell.

Those that are getting up, mainly those who have lived the longest, seem to have been greatly shaken by something. Almost as if they had a glimpse with death.

Being snapped back from your thoughts, you run into the hallway that the imposter ran into, not giving mind to those that are ahead of you.

'She cannot get away!' You think, running into a hallway. You hear footsteps ahead of you, thoroughly far away.

Needing to close the distance, you check your pockets for something, uncaring if it worked or not, when you pulled out a gold, crescent shaped whistle. 'Jackpot!' You think, blowing into it.

Beneath you, a horse that you've traveled across both the lands between and the land of shadows emerged. Torrent.

A gift from the finger maiden Melina, he's proven to be of great use in both traveling the vast distances of the lands between and fighting foes of great renown.

Hitting the reins, torrent rushed forward, speeding down the hallway. You didn't know where this imposter was going, but you couldn't let her get away.

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Nearing them, bitter chilling winds nip at you and torrent before they begin to let up. However, there are several flights of stairs that seem to be turning right and down constantly.

At the bottom of the stairs was the imposter with Venti and the Tsaritsa accompanying her as they ran off the stairs and deeper into the last floor.

Having a bad experience with Torrent and deep falls, you decide to continue on foot, disembarking from Torrent and sending him back.

Jumping down from the top floor, you grabbed the ledge of one of the staircases, before releasing it to grab another. After repeating this process for a while, you managed to get onto the last floor.

In front of you was them, with the imposter smack down in the middle. A bit of a distance away, but still reachable. Taking a deep breath, you continued your pursuit, running after them.

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Hearing your footsteps, the imposter looked back, her eyes widening as you drew near, running faster with you right behind.

No matter how far she ran, walls of Dendro kept appearing at every potential exit, all of them too thick that they wouldn't have it opened by the time you're upon them.

Every time the Tsaritsa unleased great glaciers at either the imposter or Venti used the winds the to make great barriers to block you using anemo, you would either melt the ice sent to you, or harness the winds to act in your favor. And that was before the elements betrayed them.

As you're nearing her, you're suddenly lifted into the air and pulled back. For a moment, you think that its Venti getting the wind to pull you out.

However, in the next moment your sword is changing into a familiar lance that belonged to the tail's owner, as well as their golden wings.

As if on instinct, you grab the blade with both hands, and launch yourself at the imposter.

Hearing great wings descend toward her, she takes another look, her eyes widening before grabbing Venti, having him take her place as your blade connected into the archon's skin.

As the blade connected, another vision occurred. This time, you were a crucible knight. In front, three separate warriors, tarnished, you presumed, with one of them impaled by your lance on the ground.

They each seemed to have varying reactions of horror, mainly the one who was Infront of the impaled tarnished.

Before you could register who else was there or what they could be wielding, you were sent back to the present, with Venti impaled, and your imposter look alike baring the same terrified look as the fearful tarnished in the vision.

Needing the blade, you raised it and kick Venti off. You then turn your attention to the other two, with the Tsaritsa being used as a human shield.

"Well don't just gawk there!" The imposter told the Tsaritsa, "Do something!" But when it looked like she was, voices began to invade her mind.

She grabbed her head and lowered it in pain. Her mind, assaulted by many voices. "Damn them all", "Repeat history", "Burn", "Heretic", few of the things she heard.

Visions begin to come and go like grains of sand in a dust storm. Images of Khaenri'ah being destroyed, before being replaced by Snezhnaya. The people being turned into great beasts, where death wasn't possible for their souls to rest.

Looking for ways to distract herself, she turned to the "creator", only to realize that she'd fallen silent, her face full of fear; and growing heat, both holy and unholy, familiar and not, was coming from you.

Turning her head to face you, she saw not a head, but a great void in the center of where your head resided. Surrounding this void was many smaller flames constantly rising from the void before vanishing.

"Give me the imposter," Your voice, supported by many, said. "And that fate, and many others like it, will cease." They said, before more images hit her, though noticeably lighter in effect than before.

Deciding to fold, she grabbed the imposter, and before the false creator could react, the Tsaritsa threw her to you, with you catching her by the neck.

"Good". They told her, before receding, with a wall that combined dendro, cryo, and geo rose, surrounding you two before eventually being fully covered. The imposter looked at her, face full of rage and fear, reaching out to her before she was no longer visible.

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

Venti approached the Tsaritsa, having gotten up while holding where his wound was, which had stopped bleeding, but the aches still resided.

"Thank you, for doing what was needed." Venti said, as the other archons and Neuvillette arrived.

"It always feels like I have for us all." She says, looking at the arriving group

"While your forms and aftershocks could've been a bit more...adept, the path of justice is walked by those who dare." Neuvillette says, looking at the others.

"While true, this imposter shall know what their judgement is...and so shall we soon." Zhongli says in a somber mood, looking at the elemental wall.

A moment of silence befalls them before a muffled scream is heard from the wall, likely belong to the imposter.

"Seems that her judgement has begun." EI says. "It seems so." Nahida replies. "However, if Teyvat still exists as we know it, our fates may not be what we'll have to worry about the most." She says, all eyes now on her.

"How so?" Mavuika asks, crossing her arms.

"Earlier today, I was viewing the creator's memories by the Imursul. More specifically, what they went through before arriving in Teyvat." Nahida says, ignoring the other's gasps at her action.

"And what I saw..." She stops for a moment, recalling what you went through. "Would drive lesser beings insane."

"Explain." Ei says, glancing back to the dome, where the imposter that took your place was still screaming and begging for mercy, before looking back at Nahida.

"The memories that she had endured are all to vivid in detail. These go from her first descent into Teyvat, to today. However, the most common ones that she has most commonly gone through..." Nahida pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Are that of her dying, over and over."

"What!!??" They yell, shock and worry evident in their voices. For if this true, how much has changed about the grace they knew from before. and what would she think about them?

"These deaths seem to be much like Teyvat's ending of a life, with her viewing the memories that she experienced over her lifetime as her consciousness leaves her body, signified by a the feeling of being cold."

"However," Nahida says, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Unlike our world where they'd ascend to Celestia, they awake at seemingly designated safe spots, with them awakening where their body ended up when they have yet to reach one of these areas."

The group listened on in silent horror as they process what they're hearing. The screams from before seem to have been reduced to barely audible wimpers, often being interupted by a banging from the other side.

"What's worse," Nahida continues, shocking the divinity there at how it could get worse. "Is that when it looks like her journey in a world is done, it starts all over again, with the mere weapons she held when she started, and needed to complete every single of what she calls endings, different fates for the world she finds herself in, before being allowed to travel into a different one."

The silence was deafening. How much had the primordial mother change due to this false judgement? And what would happen to them? Though they weren't worthy of mercy, they felt the need to help her heal. Even if it's the sake for those who're still in her light.

Hostile and malevolent energy, which could only be described as unholy, suddenly began to emit from the wall, the imposter's scream's greatly rising. "P-Please! I B-beg of y-you! Spa-Spare me, and I'll do wh-what ever you want! N-Not a S-Second t-thought.!" She yells, her voice rising in desperation. "J-J-Ju- Just please, don't do th-AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

The imposter's screams crescendo as unholy energy surges through their veins. Great chains of lightning are shot throughout the dome. highlighting a brutal sight. Shock was visible on their faces, but not from what you were doing, but rather how.

You, once merciful and forgiving, was using a weapon, who's only purpose was to damn those who've committed the worst of sins. It was considered sacrilege in the old age to spread knowledge about this blade's existence.

To everyone there, both by the lightning and sensing, they saw many appendages of various types, hands, claws, tentacles, and many more indescribable, clawing at the imposter from some sort of abyssal like circle underneath them. While her body was being pulled back by the limbs, they felt that the blade was pulling something out from the body.

As the scene unfolds, the archons look at each other, worried about not only their fates, but those that dwell in Teyvat. "Are the people aware, of who the true creator is?" The Tsaritsa asks, looking at the divinity there. "They are." Mauvika answers, with the Ei and Zhongli confirming it. "The winds have told me that the people are aware, and are fervently praying for mercy while repenting. Though, some are still in denial about the truth." Venti says with a somber look.

Before they could continue, the imposter's pleas went silent, followed by a muffled thud that originated from the dome. Before anyone could react, the dome began to melt, with vines and roots retracting and the rocks collapsing.

"Then lets pray it's enough in the end, and the deniers don't damn us all." Neuvillette says, getting on his knees, followed by the archons doing the same.

When the dome receded, those there looked in fear at you and what held.

In your left hand, you held a shield of pure light Infront of you, with it radiating of holy energy. That alone would've signified your identity as someone holy. But what you held in your right signified you position.

You held a sword which is only known as "The One That Damns". Across the blade's steel resides the faces of those that had been damned as well. From the bottom to the but of the blade, the steel was replaced with an unknown metal. In the center resided three small humanoid skulls in which a horn was on the center of each of them.

Starting from the top section of the highest skull going down was two metalic horns. At the connection point of a regular blade and hilt was face a face infamous to all. That of the first sinner, who now bore the horns of betrayal now metallic, and a ring with arrows going in all lateral directions, signifying how their greed consumed the world many centuries ago.

Due to how volatile the blade's energies were and its ability to corrupt, only the true creator, you, could wield it without being either absorbed into it or lost in it's corrupting influence.

Your face bore that of cautioned aggression, similar to that of a cornered monster, ready to do anything to survive. Your head had about returned back to normal, but the Tsaritca noticed in your eyes was the same void of fire in your irises that consumed your head when you went into that dome with the imposter.

From their point of view, a black substance was oozing out of the imposter's mouth, connecting to the floor. The back of their skull was shattered, with bits of flesh and bones all across where the dome was, with the abyssal circle now gone.

Mortal blood oozed from various stab wounds and cuts all across her body, with some bones visible from their perspective. But at the center of her body was unholy energy and the smell of smoke emitting from it, likely the result of The One which damns.

Her lower body is faring around as well as the upper body is, with wounds and broken bones in her.

The silks and fabrics that made up her dress were torn in your relentless strikes, jewelry thrown all across where the dome once was. Some in pieces, others still whole.

Tension was high between you and them as you waited to see if they'd rise and attack while they hoped that you would lower your weapons, and hear them.

After a while, Neuvillette spoke, taking the initiative. "Your grace. On behalf of the people of Teyvat...we're sorry." He says after a moment of consideration.

You don't know what to say. This seems to good to be true. The person you'd trust the most is Patches whenever you look over an edge, mainly because you've gotten used to him always kicking you off of it just because he can.

He did seem to change his intentions by the time you went to fight Mohg as he claims, due to the dangers that resided within Volcano manor.

Yet, these were the people who's story you've come to know, with their behavior fueled by devotion to this, god. One that sought to impersonate you. Which implied a lot, if they were that desperate.

Half an hour would pass, with it feeling like eternity to them, before you came to a conclusion on their judgement and spoke again.

"In time uncountable for me, as a result of the imposter", you say, gesturing to the imposter's body. "I descended into a decayed kingdom known as Boletaria, which saw me cleanse the land of its demonic occupiers, with nothing but the weapons I found and wits."

Zhongli looks like he wants to say something, but doesn't under your wary glare as you take a deep breath.

"I would've hoped that this led to my salvation, but it seems that the heretic had other plans. For after I purged Boletaria of the damned and left it, I was sent back to the beginning of my journey, with every change I made having the same result besides one.

The group held their breath, feeling worry and concern grow on their backs.

You take a deep breath. This part wasn't something you were fond of, regardless of the world. But it was your only way out.

"The only way out of that world, was by giving into sin." You finish, looking your head down.

The archons and Neuvillette's faces widened in shock at your admission. What sin did you commit to escape, what degree of severity did it hold?

"This, was merely the beginning," you continue on, ignoring their silent reactions. "of what I would have to do. For Boletaria was the first of seven other worlds that I would inevitably be forced to decide the fate of, and being forced to see all of them in each world."

"But now that I am free of that fate, it is my time to heal both me," you say, pointing to yourself. "And you." You finish, pointing to them. "Before my departure into Boletaria, from what I've been made know of, you felt my presence via the traveler at first and then in you, yes?" You ask, with them nodding in confirmation.

"To varying degrees do I know about each of your situations and the history of this world. But one thing remains the same. Celestia has been negligent for too long. If they're unable to justify this properly...," You pause, taking a somber tone. "Their reign is over." You finish, looking at them.

The group starts to worry about the future. The Tsaritsa worries about what's to be released in the future. By both Celestia and you, with the memory of world burning still fresh in her mind, with the others in similar states of worry.

"You and the rest of Teyvat, however, will be spared from the ensuing war that would come should they fail to explain." You reassure them, breaking them out of their thoughts.

"From what I've seen through the winds of freedom," you, turning towards Venti, with the said archon looking up at you. "Celestia has held back valuable information relating to your world, going to brutal measures to ensure that this knowledge was hidden."

"Situations like this of varying degrees are occurring all across Teyvat, and they don't react even when nations collapse due to their failures!" You yell, startling the group.

You take a deep breath, regaining your cool. "As such, I have an offer for you and your nations, as a means of reconciliation. for you." You say.

They look surprised as expected. A chance to repent for their sins? This early? There had to be some trick.

"I ask for each of you to rise, and join me in healing this world." You say, gesturing for each of them to rise. "For too long have the people of Teyvat been neglected and abused, with you and it's people working to ensure your continued survival."

"The path of healing for us both will be beneficial and long, but I hope that in the end," you continue, with the archons and Neuvillette rising, standing up right, "that we will prosper to fix a broken dream."

As you walked out of the chapel, surrounded by the divine that walk the world and your mortal acolytes, you looked up to the rising clear night sky, a light smile appearing on your face.

For now, at least, the constant suffering that you've grown used to is over. Though the potential war with Celestia is of concern to you, you push it out of your mind for now.

For how long have they been fighting their struggles, for them to desperatly fight for a look a-like of you, that only made demand after demand, seeking to enrich herself?

So many questions, but you will find them. Though the path will be long, you will keep them safe in the end, no matter the cost.

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Hey readers, sorry for not posting in a while. This idea was given to me by @ghrgrsfdesfrfg when they were looking for a separate SAGAU fic. I'm going to be releasing 2 new polls soon. The first being the poll from earlier with better descriptions of these stories, and the second being if I should write stories for the opposite gender if I specify the reader being male or female.

[thatsonemorbidcorvid]

Du Wen at Her, the bar she started last year, in Shanghai. “I think everyone living in this city seems to have reached this stage that they want to explore more about the power of women,” she said.

Her is a self-described feminist bar in Shanghai where women gather to talk about their place in society

Tang Shuang at her bookstore, Paper Moon, in Shanghai

Wang Xia, left, and her Xin Chao Bookstore space in the Shanghai Book City in Shanghai

The female bookstore, Paper Moon, in Shanghai

In bars tucked away in alleys and at salons and bookstores around Shanghai, women are debating their place in a country where men make the laws.

Some wore wedding gowns to take public vows of commitment to themselves. Others gathered to watch films made by women about women. The bookish flocked to female bookshops to read titles like “The Woman Destroyed” and “Living a Feminist Life.”

Women in Shanghai, and some of China’s other biggest cities, are negotiating the fragile terms of public expression at a politically precarious moment. China’s ruling Communist Party has identified feminism as a threat to its authority. Female rights activists have been jailed. Concerns about harassment and violence against women are ignored or outright silenced.

China’s leader, Xi Jinping, has diminished the role of women at work and in public office. There are no female members of Mr. Xi’s inner circle or the Politburo, the executive policymaking body. He has invoked more traditional roles for women, as caretakers and mothers, in planning a new “childbearing culture” to address a shrinking population.

But groups of women around China are quietly reclaiming their own identities. Many are from a generation that grew up with more freedom than their mothers. Women in Shanghai, profoundly shaken by a two-month Covid lockdown in 2022, are being driven by a need to build community.

“I think everyone living in this city seems to have reached this stage that they want to explore more about the power of women,” said Du Wen, the founder of Her, a bar that hosts salon discussions.

Frustrated by the increasingly narrow understanding of women by the public, Nong He, a film and theater student, held a screening of three documentaries about women by female Chinese directors.

“I think we should have a broader space for women to create,” Ms. He said. “We hope to organize such an event to let people know what our life is like, what the life of other women is like, and with that understanding, we can connect and provide some help to each other.”

At quietly advertised events, women question misogynistic tropes in Chinese culture. “Why are lonely ghosts always female?” one woman recently asked, referring to Chinese literature’s depiction of homeless women after death. They share tips for beginners to feminism. Start with history, said Tang Shuang, the owner of Paper Moon, which sells books by female authors. “This is like the basement of the structure.”

There are few reliable statistics about gender violence and sexual harassment in China, but incidents of violence against women have occurred with greater frequency, according to researchers and social workers. Stories have circulated widely online of women being physically maimed or brutally murdered for trying to leave their husbands, or savagely beaten for resisting unwanted attention from men. The discovery of a woman who was chained inside a doorless shack in the eastern province of Jiangsu became one of the most debated topics online in years.

With each case, the reactions have been highly divisive. Many people denounced the attackers and called out sexism in society. Many others blamed the victims.

The way these discussions polarize society unnerved Ms. Tang, an entrepreneur and former deputy editor of Vogue China. Events in her own life unsettled her, too. As female friends shared feelings of shame and worthlessness for not getting married, Ms. Tang searched for a framework to articulate what she was feeling.

“Then I found out, you know, even myself, I don’t have very clear thoughts about these things,” she said. “People are eager to talk, but they don’t know what they are talking about.” Ms. Tang decided to open Paper Moon, a store for intellectually curious readers like herself.

The bookstore is divided into an academic section that features feminist history and social studies, as well as literature and poetry. There is an area for biographies. “You need to have some real stories to encourage women,” Ms. Tang said.

Anxiety about attracting the wrong kind of attention is always present.

When Ms. Tang opened her store, she placed a sign in the door describing it as a feminist bookstore that welcomed all genders, as well as pets. “But my friend warned me to take it out because, you know, I could cause trouble by using the word feminism.”

Wang Xia, the owner of Xin Chao Bookstore, has chosen to stay away from the “F” word altogether. Instead she described her bookstore as “woman-themed.” When she opened it in 2020, the store was a sprawling space with nooks to foster private conversations and six study rooms named after famous female authors like Simone de Beauvoir.

Xin Chao Bookstore served more than 50,000 people through events, workshops and online lectures, Ms. Wang said. It had more than 20,000 books about art, literature and self-improvement — books about women and books for women. The store became so prominent that state-owned media wrote about it and the Shanghai government posted the article on its website.

Still, Ms. Wang was careful to steer clear of making a political statement. “My ambition is not to develop feminism,” she said.

For Ms. Du, the Her founder, empowering women is at the heart of her motivation. She was jolted into action by the isolation of the pandemic: Shanghai ordered its residents to stay in their apartments under lockdown for two months, and her world narrowed to the walls of her apartment.

For years she dreamed of opening a place where she could elevate the voices of women, and now it seemed more urgent than ever. After the lockdown, she opened Her, a place where women could strike friendships and debate the social expectations that society had placed on them.

On International Women’s Day in March, Her held an event it called Marry Me, in which women took vows to themselves. The bar has also hosted a salon where women acted out the roles of mothers and daughters. Many younger women described a reluctance to be treated the way their mothers were treated and said they did not know how to talk to them, Ms. Du said.

The authorities have met with Ms. Du and indicated that as long as the events at Her didn’t become too popular, there was a place for it in Shanghai, she said.

But in China, there is always the possibility that officials will crack down. “They never tell you clearly what is forbidden,” Ms. Tang of Paper Moon said.

Ms. Wang recently moved Xin Chao Bookstore into Shanghai Book City, a famous store with large atriums and long columns of bookcases. A four-volume collection of Mr. Xi’s writings are prominently displayed in several languages.

Book City is huge. The space for Xin Chao Bookstore is not, Ms. Wang said, with several shelves inside and around a small room that may eventually hold about only 3,000 books.

“It’s a small cell of the city, a cultural cell,” Ms. Wang said.

Still, it stands out in China.

“Not every city has a woman’s bookstore,” she said. “There are many cities that do not have such cultural soil.””

[streets-in-paradise]

Troy (2004) Masterlist

Requests for this movie are permanently open.

Pending requests - 6

Oneshots

Battle Scars  - (Platonical) Hector x Sister Reader 

Our Strenght Lies in Family -  (Platonical) Paris x Sister Reader x Hector 

Imaginary Feats - Patroclus x Trojan Princess Reader 

Silent Pray  -   Part 1 - Part 2 - Chryseis and Odysseus centered movieverse retelling of the Illiad’s startpoint / oneshot spreaded in two parts. 

The Daughter of the Priest -  Part 1 -  Continuation for “ Silent Pray.” 

Fool - ( Pre War) Paris x Healer Reader 

Songs of Sailors -  Platonical (Family) relationships of the trojan royals and allusions to different romantic pairings. 

Pairings Mentioned: Helen x Paris (most mentioned), (Implied) Patroclus x Trojan Princess Reader, (Implied) Achilles x Briseis, Hector x Andromache. 

Faith or Facts - Hector x Greek Seer!Reader (Female) 

The Insolence of Beauty - Post quarrel, Agamemnon centered. 

For Honor and Love - Helen x Paris (requested) 

Into a New Life - Paris x Spartan Servant!Reader (requested) 

For a Love Like This - Paris x (fem) Warrior!Reader (requested)

Undying Legends - Achilles x Princess!Reader (requested)

Accomplices - Patroclus x GN Reader (requested)

The Last Challenger - Ajax x Fem Reader (requested) 

Borrowed Bride - Achilles x (fem) Trojan!Reader 

A Thousand Times - Paris x Fem Reader (requested)

Anonymous Hero - Hector x Fem Warrior!Reader (requested)

Personal Guard - Eudorus (Fem) Shy Reader (requested)

Third Fate - Achilles x Fiancee!Reader (requested)

Things that will grant me your love - Paris x (Fem) Reader (requested)

The Curse of Poseidon - Paris x Helen Merman AU (requested)

Concealed Fighter - Hector x Wife!Reader / Achilles x Captive!Reader 

The Veiled One - Ajax x (Fem)Reader (requested)

Our Fight - Hector x (Fem)Reader (requested)

Artists of Deception - Odysseus x Wife!Reader (requested)

Eternal Courtship - Achilles x (Fem)Captive!Reader (requested)

Matured Desire - Achilles x (Fem) Reader smut (requested)

By Duty and Chance - Hector x (Fem) Reader (requested)

His Weakness - Achilles x (Fem)Reader 

A Man of Honor - Odysseus x Trojan Princess!Reader (requested) 

From the Deepness of the Sea - Hector x Siren!Reader (requested)

The Wave’s Caress - Achilles x (Fem)Reader (requested)

In These Arms - Achilles x (Fem) Reader

Rosy-Fingered Dawn - Briseis x (Fem)Reader (requested)

Beyond Duty, Beyond Limits - Achilles x Goddess!Reader (requested)

Headcanons

Achilles’ Type (requested)

-Achilles + Patroclus’ turnoffs/dislikes (requested)

- Achilles reacting to a Belle-like town’s freak (requested)

Preferences

- Reactions to your singing

- How they comfort you when the war is bringing you down 

-Their Types (Fem partner version)

Achilles x Mycenaean Princess!Reader Series

Part 1 - The Bride’s Misery 

Part 2 - Fame and Tales

Part 3 - The Veil Trick

Part 4 - To Make a Difference

Part 5 - Family Matters. 

Part 6 - A Curse, a Plot and a Rushed Farewell 

Part 7 - Invisible Influence

Part 8 - The Rejected Side

Part 9 - Consecration. 

Part 10 - Royal Treatment

Part 11 - Aligned Improvements. 

Part 12 - The Weight of Words. 

Part 13 - Occulted Relic

Part 14 - Goodbye Encounters 

Part 15 - Separations, welcomes and the story of an avoidable disaster 

Part 16 - Service to Good Judgement. 

Part 17 - Galatea and a Maenad fighting in the second front

Part 18 - The Enygm of the Horse Emblem

Part 19 - No Space for Loneliness. 

Part 20 - The Games.

Part 21 - The Man of Aphrodite 

Part 22 - Diverted Course

Part 23 - Golden Chains

Part 24 - Loving in the Shadows

Part 25 - The Trial of Achilles

Drabbles

Calm After the Storm - Odysseus x Reader 

Divine Beauty - Paris x Reader 

A Breath of Life - Patroclus x Gender Neutral Reader (Requested)

The Right Way - Achilles x (Fem)Reader (Requested)

[charlie-lec-stories]

McLaren Detectives Department // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: One day Max is totally furious with Y/N and Charles' relationship and the next he's completely fine with it, Lando is not buying it.

Warnings: Suggestive talk, Lando and Oscar rambling on conspiracy theories, Oscar being the annoying little brother, Lando being unable to mind his own business.

Author’s Note: This one is quite funny, I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Rate: +16

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lando Norris was a simple man, he grew up with the commodities and luxuries of an upper class boy and had never in his life took a bus, but you could take away all of his privilege and he could manage to survive. He could adapt, change his ways, work his way back to the top of the chain again, whatever it took. As long as he could interact with other people on a daily basis he didn't care what happened in his life, because he was fueled by one thing and one thing only: Gossip. Nothing in this life moved Lando more than gossip, he was a sucker for it and when he was paired with Oscar Piastri in McLaren, he found someone as unable to mind his own business as himself. They could spend hours just gossiping, about their friends, other drivers, celebrities, their families, whoever lived on Earth, they always had something to chat about. And their favourite part was drama. They loved it when some scandalous situation reached their ears and they'd spend the rest of the week talking about it and trying to keep up with the updates. The rest of the people who worked with them knew they were like that and more than once they would fake drama just to watch them ramble to each other about it for days. Their capability to gossip was the main entertainment of the garage.

Of course, when Y/N, Max Verstappen's best friend, and Charles Leclerc, Max's rival, started dating, it was the biggest drama the paddock had seen in years. Max and Charles going at each other's throats every weekend was like "Keeping up with the Kardashians" for Lando and Oscar. They would try to use any chance they got to listen to the arguments and comebacks the Ferrari and Red Bull drivers would throw at the other. Lando was close with Max, while Oscar was close with Charles and Y/N, which also meant that they would usually get more information from them, making their gossip sessions even more interesting. Lando loved to hear Max complain over and over again about Charles, telling him how much of a prick the monegasque was and constantly wondering what Y/N ever saw in him. Oscar and Y/N loved ice-cream, and they would go out for it pretty often, there, she sometimes talked about how worried she was about Max and Charles fighting all the time and Oscar did what he could to help her out. On the other hand, when Oscar and Charles went to play pool on Mondays, the Australian gladly listened to his friend complain about Max and his possessiveness over his girlfriend, getting a little possessive himself. All of this made Lando and Oscar fans number one of the Max-Y/N-Charles drama developing in the paddock.

The whole season, they watched the progress of motorsports' favourite couple. From Charles flirting with Y/N at the Mercedes garage, to the last race where Y/N hugged and comforted a defeated Charles who had just lost the championship. The McLaren boys witnessed the couple's hard launch on Instagram during summer break, with a scandalous picture of them kissing on Charles' yacht, Y/N sitting on his lap and Charles shamelessly grabbing at her ass. They had a feast with the fans' reaction to the picture and they had even more fun watching Max's live, while the three of them were together grabbing a beer. The dutchman's ears going red and his eyes hyper-focused on the screen of his phone, so angry that Lando was sure some smoke could go out of his head. They also had the pleasure to watch Max call Charles "stupid" on open TV, with millions watching, followed by the FIA's response to that and Max's public, and notoriously forced, apology. They were both aware that Y/N and Charles' relationship was the thing that Max despised the most on this world. He could spend weeks rambling about why the two should break up and how terrible of a combination they were.

It was suspicious, to say the least, when the first race of the next season, Max entered the paddock along with the couple, chatting amicably and even laughing a bit. Lando and Oscar stared at the sight of the three drivers skeptically, how come they were all friends now? What crucial episode of the telenovela did they miss? Something was off. They watched as Y/N and Charles walked holding hands towards the Mercedes garage, Max chatting excitedly with his best friend not even caring about her relationship anymore. At the entrance of the german team, Charles kissed his girlfriend goodbye and Max gave her a friendly peck on the cheek, then the girl went into the garage and the two guys walked to their own garages, talking lively just the two of them all the way. The whole day, the tree of them crossed paths and exchanged some words with big grins and happy auras, all of the previous tension completely dissipated.

"I don't get it, mate. They hated each other three months ago!". Lando said to Oscar while they were chatting in Oscar's driver's room. "I just can't get it".

"Maybe they talked?". Oscar suggested.

"Nah". Lando dismissed his idea with a flip of his hand. Oscar threw a little papaya ball at him, Lando caught it and threw it back. "I met with Max plenty of times during the off season, he would had told me".

"True". The other agreed and passed the ball again. "I also met with Y/N and Charles, went to their house for dinner a lot at the beginning of the year. They would've said something".

"Maybe it's a PR thing". Lando wondered as he played with the ball before passing it back. "Like, maybe they were scolded so bad for their behavior that now they have to act like they like each other to clean up their public images".

"That actually makes sense, I mean, Max did call Charles stupid on TV". Oscar chuckled and threw the ball back at Lando. "Amazing, mate. Sometimes, you do speak some sense".

"You're so funny". Lando threw the ball harder at Oscar, hitting him on the chest as a response to the other's teasing. Oscar let a huff out at the impact and then laughed a bit, satisfied with the annoyed reaction he got from Lando.

With the resolve to find out what made the other three change their act so drastically, Lando and Oscar started trying to gather some information. They spoke with other drivers, people from Mercedes, Ferrari and Red Bull, friends they all had in common, even Charles' brothers and Y/N mentor, Lewis Hamilton. Little by little, they both discovered that no one knew anything about Charles and Max putting their differences aside and were as shocked as them to see them hanging out in the paddock. Lewis asked Y/N about it and she told him that nothing happened and that everything was like always, which was obviously a lie, but he didn't want to pressure her on the matter. Lando and Oscar spent four race weekends melting their brains trying to work out what happened. Lando had enough. Everything was the same? He wasn't buying that. He walked to Max and asked directly. The dutchman was as direct with his answer: "I still want to jump his throat. I'm just being civil about it".

"Is that what he said?". Oscar asked and Lando just nodded his head while he bit his apple.

"He said that and then walked away. He didn't even give me time to ask more". Oscar played with the papaya ball, that seemed to be his new favourite toy.

"That's weird".

"I agree, if there's something Max isn't, is civil". Lando added with his mouth full. They were frustrated, they had even more questions than before.

Over time, Lando kept trying to extract more information from Max, but all he got were answers like "I have a lot of self control, that's all", "Just trying hard to do the right thing", "I'm trying to make him trust me a little more", "Just want to be close to Y/N again", and things like that. But there was a conversation that put Oscar and Lando on edge. They were discussing the Qualifying session, one where Max got pole and was closely followed by Y/N, Lando on third place. Y/N was explaining that she didn't like the circuit, she felt like every lap she was learning new information and she just could never feel like she was familiar with it. That led to talking about perceptions and how other things like lights and unnecessary noises could divert your attention from what's right in front of you. "Sometimes you need someone to remove everything you don't need so you can finally see clearly". Max said and he placed his hand on her hip, squeezing it lightly. Lando noticed the motion instantly. Max's eyes went from Y/N to behind her and the brit followed his gaze, landing on Charles, who was talking with George Russell and Alex Albon. The comment, the possessive squeeze, the way he so intensely looked at Y/N and then Charles, Lando felt a chill down his spine. Not a good one.

"You're crazy, mate. You finally lost it". Oscar said as he shook his head, shutting down the possibility right there and then.

"Think about it!". Lando paced back and forth on the little room, running his fingers through his hair. "He wants to get close to her again? Someone has to remove the things she doesn't need so she can see clearly? He believes that he's doing good at self control?". Oscar replayed the phrases inside his head. They did look suspicious.

"He still wants to jump Charles' throat...". Lando stopped on his tracks at Oscar's addition.

"We need to do something". There was this weight on their shoulders now that they finally understood Max's intentions. "Max is a great lad, we can't let him turn into a...". Lando struggled with the word, so he whispered it. "A killer".

They both agreed on that, they couldn't let Max go on with his plan of eliminating Charles. They liked them both, they weren't losing their friends just because they couldn't see eye to eye about their relationship with Y/N. They took turns to follow Max around, the only free time being when they had to focus on their jobs. They knew that Max wasn't killing Charles in the paddock, with so many possible witnesses. Every night, they both followed Max to his room and stayed there, hiding in a corner of the hotel hallway for an hour, making sure he wasn't coming out. Oscar even went to the extent of suggesting Charles getting bodyguards, when the other asked why, Oscar just ran away, leaving Charles extremely confused. Every chance they got, they did what they could to keep Max away from Charles, which was kind of hard since the dutchman was constantly following the couple around and trying to chat with them. Lando ended up running out of excuses to pull Max away and they understood that they had to do something about the situation.

One particular night, they followed Max to his room as always, but after 45 minutes, they saw him go out again. He wasn't wearing his usual Red Bull attire, instead, he wore black clothes, sunglasses and a cap, the hood of the hoodie covering his head. If they didn't know better, they would have never guessed it was Max. He went straight to the stairs and they followed him quietly, already suspecting where he was going. Oscar stopped to grab two brooms from a service room and Lando frowned at him. "We may need weapons", was what the Aussie said and Lando took one while scoffing. They hid at the stairs, watching Max stop on front of Charles' room. For insurance matters, Y/N stayed at another hotel, with the Mercedes crew, so Charles was most surely alone in the room, it was the perfect opportunity to kill him. First time in the season Red Bull and Ferrari stayed at the same hotel. Max looked around and opened the door as quietly as possible, walking in and shutting the door behind him.

"We need to go in, now!". Oscar said and tried to run off to the door, Lando grabbed him and pulled him back behind him.

"We need a plan. Let me think". Was he actually ready to stop his friend from killing another of his friends? He had never physically fought anyone, could he really stop a murder?

"Fuck a plan, we have to save Charles!". Oscar ran again and this time Lando followed him. They stopped at the door. There was music playing inside and they could faintly hear Charles' voice.

"No, Max, wait. Wait!". That was it, they were barging in.

"No, Max! DON'T DO IT, DON'T KILL HIM". Oscar screamed as they ran into the room with their brooms up, ready to attack. What they didn't expect was finding Max on his knees, in front of Charles, trying to undo the button of his jeans. "Oh... OOOH!".

"Putain de merde!". (Holy shit!). Charles cursed as he pushed Max's hands away from his body and backed away. Max fell backwards. Lando covered Oscar's eyes, they dropped the brooms. For a second, the room fell silent.

"Kill him?". Max asked, confused.

"I think we misread the situation...". Lando added, then, he thought about Y/N. "I can't believe you could do something like this to Y/N". He sneered.

"Are they decent?". Oscar asked, his eyes still covered. Lando removed his hand.

"It's not what you think-". Max started, but Lando cut him off.

"Oh, sure, you were just checking if the zipper of his jeans worked fine, weren't ya?". Oscar shook his head slowly, backing Lando up on his disappointment.

"Don't give me that look, you two barged in with brooms asking me not to kill Charles". Max said. "Sucking him off is way better than killing him". Lando saw Oscar make a face, like he was actually considering Max's point, he elbowed the younger driver and made him go back to his disappointed posture.

"We promise, it's not what you think". As Charles was saying that, the bathroom door opened, Y/N walking out with a blue and red lingerie set. She opened her eyes wide when she spotted to kids that weren't supposed to be there. Lando covered Oscar's eyes, again.

"Okay, I'll give it to you. It definitely wasn't what we thought". Y/N was still there, shocked. "Please, get dressed, there's a baby in the room".

"It's me, I'm the baby". Oscar added, his hands coming up over Lando's to make sure he didn't see anything. Charles ran to Y/N and covered her with his Ferrari hoodie that was close to the bathroom. Lando lowered his hand and Oscar opened on of his eyes to peek if it was safe, he then opened the other one.

"We fixed our problem". Max explained.

"We can see that". The brit stressed.

"We're uhm... all together?". Lando and Oscar looked at Charles when he added his comment. "We've been... you know".

"Fucking?".

"Among other things". Y/N corrected Lando. The two McLaren boys just nodded, synchronized. "We're happy like this, all together. We'd appreciate it a lot if you could keep the secret for us". Lando and Oscar smiled and nodded again.

"Of course, we will". They grabbed their brooms and got ready to leave. "We'll leave you to it".

"Thanks". Max said, the two were going out when he called them again. "And guys...". They turned around to look at him. "Don't play detective again. Do us a favor and buy yourselves a board game".

"Copy that". Oscar gave them a military salute and Lando just smiled. Outside, they both ran back down the stairs as fast as they could, giggling like teenagers. On the street, they kept laughing uncontrollably, walking back the three blocks to their own hotel.

"Mate, we're not gossiping anymore". Lando said, knowing pretty well that they will keep doing it.

"Deal". The rest of the way they just kept laughing and then, at the hotel, they went to their respective rooms, calling it a night. While lying in bed, Lando just couldn't sleep, repeating the night in his mind and giggling, there were a lot of sexual jokes and remarks he needed to let out. He went to grab his phone to text Oscar, ready to gossip again, when it vibrated on his hand. Lando laughed out laud at the message:

Oscar: "Can you top when there are two other people?".

Lando: "Dunno mate, but's gonna be a hell of a challenge to guess the bottom".

Oscar: "Challenge accepted".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Well this one is a lot of fun! I thought Lando and Oscar were perfect for this one. Thank you for reading!

[ataraxiasflame]

Let’s say that the Az BC was actually a Lucien BC. Let’s say that Lucien had a similar inner monologue during the same interactions with Elain…

…calling her ‘the third’.

…describing touching her as ‘so wrong’.

…emphasizing several times what HE needed from her body.

…claiming he hadn’t thought about a future with Elain beyond the ‘fantasies he pleasured himself to’.

…being willing to kill any other male for showing an interest in her.

Imagine Lucien’s flames becoming embers in Elain’s presence and him pointing it out too.

Imagine Lucien leaving that interaction, after calling almost kissing Elain a mistake, then immediately interacting with another female who caused his chest to spark as he imagined her reaction to receiving the gift he’d originally bought for Elain.

Honestly, even thinking about Lucien doing this gives me the biggest ick, because Lucien would NEVER even think of doing any of this to any female, let alone his mate, but…let’s just consider it.

Can you imagine anyone in the fandom trying to claim that Elain and Lucien were endgame after a BC like this? It would be SO obvious that the author is showing that Elain and Lucien are not compatible beyond their physical attraction even with a bond. No one would be able to argue that the Elucien ship had sunk.

And the way people would rip Lucien to shreds kinda like everyone did to Tamlin for thinking about Elain this way and use it as clear evidence that the bond will be rejected…Even I, a fierce Lucien supported and defender, would hate to even consider defending this kind of behavior from him.

Yes, the big difference between the two BC’s is the existence of a bond between Elain and Lucien. But that just proves my point even more because everyone would be screaming about the obvious rejected-bond foreshadowing because of his behavior.

So why is this behavior considered romantic because Azriel does it? Why does it seemingly confirm to some that Az and Elain are destined to be together? Why is this less obvious because it’s Azriel?

As a BC alone, this chapter makes it pretty clear that E/riel just doesn’t work even when they tried. If they were that compatible, Az would never have been able to stay away from Elain. This was the same guy who told Rhys to chain him to a tree and he would still rip it up to defend his loved ones. He truly believes that the cauldron was wrong and that Elain is his mate? Well, Cassian couldn’t stay away from his mate. Even while dying, he still crawled to Nesta.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Hunger

Pairing: Dark Dabi x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: Leaving you with an empty stomach is the first step for Dabi’s plan to break you. 

WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping; Starvation; Manipulation.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Finally entering the Bnha fandom. Give me more ideas, pls, a girl doesn't know what to write :)

–

You wince at the pain that blossoms in your middle.

Your stomach far too tired to growl properly, having resigned to prolonged painful pangs - a pitiful form of begging to which you can’t answer. Your whole body feels weak, no strength left in your limbs aside from a dizzy mind that keeps drifting away.  

You can’t even remember when was the last time you ate something - courtesy from Dabi. He is a vindictive asshole, you knew that from the start.

Wasn't that the reason you got yourself kidnapped? Your constant refusal to his advances snapping him off enough to kidnap you.

But you didn’t think he’d make you starve for days as retaliation for all the yelling and shouting the nastiest insults you could find at the black-haired man. 

You’d kill for a single bite of that delicious crusty pizza you ate that one time. Or that mouth-watering hamburger that so often appears in television advertisements.

Just the memory of food has your stomach hurting even more and you curl your arms around your body in the bed, feeling yourself getting weaker by the minute. 

As time tediously drags by, you fall into a light slumber, wincing at the regular stomach aches. 

The faint noise of the apartment door opening barely means anything to you, however the subtle aroma of warm food that reaches your nose triggers your eyes open. 

It floats through the small apartment, the smell of delicious cuisine bringing water to your dry mouth and you gulp. Are you dreaming?

Footsteps and the chickling of plates is all your ears catch and it doesn’t take long before Dabi appears at the door, holding a plastic tupperware.

“Wakey wakey, sweetheart. Look what I got here.”

You sniff, head rising fragilely and your stomach growls loudly. Dabi chuckles at that, stepping closer to you.

“Looks like someone is hungry.” he opens the container and you almost choke when the luscious smell of seasoned food hits your nostrils. 

One of your hands unconsciously raises, fingers greedily reaching for the tupperware but Dabi is quick in moving it away from your reach, placing it on the floor behind him, knowing there’s no way for you to reach it given the heavy chain attached to your ankle. 

“Now, now, sweetheart, where are your manners?” 

“I’m hungry…” your weak voice brings a feline smile on Dabi’s voice, features twisting with pleasure at the hunger in your face, your cheeks slightly sunken with malnutrition.

“Not so strong now, are we? What happened? Got yourself into a diet?” he maliciously retorts. 

He slowly sits at the edge of the bed, blue eyes attentive to your reaction but you offer him none.

You’re too tired, too hungry to put up with him. The pit in your belly only worsens with each second and you’re about to beg Dabi when his hand reaches for your face, tenderly caressing your cheek. 

The momentaneous satisfaction in his disfigured face is broken into irritation when you recoil, pulling your face away from him, avoiding his touch.

His fingers harden into an angry fist and he scowls for a moment before forcing himself to calm down. 

“Always an ungrateful brat, aren’t you? An ungrateful stupid brat.” his eyes get colder as he glares at you. “Never able to appreciate all the things I do for you, huh? Always so-”

He stops, shaking his head before straightening his back and then he smiles - a wicked terrifying smile that has you forgetting about your devastating hunger - as he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Nah, but you know what? Brats don’t deserve to eat anyways.” he shakes some invisible dust off his long jacket, sighing as he starts to stand up,

“Well, guess I’m just gonna eat all that delicious food all by myself since I got no one to share it with. I even bought those delicious crispy chips you liked so much, but oh well.” 

You blink, panic and hunger bubbling in your body as you hopelessly reach for the cloth of his jacket. 

“No, Dabi, please!” you cry out, swallowing the last of your pride and honor as you beg, and he slowly sits back on the bed, “I’m sorry, okay? Please…”

His jaw twitches with enjoyment and the corner of his lips curl. 

“Yeah, is that so? Little brat wants to be a good girl now?” 

You nod eagerly despite the knot that tightens in your heart, but you can’t afford to think about any of this. You have to eat. 

“You sure about that? I’m not forcing you or anything, right?” 

The irony of his words would make you roll your eyes if you had the energy for such.

“Then say it. Loud and clear, so there’s no doubt left.”

“I-” you lose track of the words at the sight of his electrifying blue eyes, “I want to be a good girl.”

“Then you can start by acting like a good girl. Come here.” he taps his lap, his hand latching onto your wrist and you don’t resist when Dabi softly tugs you towards him.

A whimper escapes you when your frail muscles are forced to move using the last of your scarce energies but at the end you find yourself perched on top of Dabi’s lap, one leg awkwardly bent while the other lays straight, the chain on your ankle fully stretched.

His arms waste no time wrapping themselves around your waist, your arms getting caught in the way. He nuzzles into your neck, humming in delight despite the obvious tension in your body

“Are you sure you want to be fed? Cause you sure don’t seem very enthusiastic.” his dab is enough to snap you out of your transe and you turn your face towards him, pressing a small kiss to his cheek, cringing when your lips touch the cold staples. 

“That’s better.” he opens into a wide smile. “Wasn’t so hard, after all, huh?”

The rumble from your stomach has you wincing. “Can I eat now?” 

Dabi doesn’t mind you, too busy peppering kisses over the expanse of your shoulder.

“Dabi?”

“Hum, maybe in a while.” he winks at you, and you feel sick to your stomach despite having eaten nothing.

“I need to make sure that my good girl doesn’t turn bad.”

[asirensrage]

Title: One More Step Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Izana x Unnamed/Undescribed Female OC Word count: 2072 Warnings: Dark!fic. Violence. Abuse. Threats. Gaslighting. Suicide attempt. Suicidal thoughts. Mention of "being shared". Seriously gaslighting. Implied future infantilization. Not a happy ending. Unbeta’d. *warnings are not exhaustive* Summary: There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out. Including her. Prompt: "Even if you got rid of me, you'd miss me. Admit it, you'd miss me."

Notes: based off of the prompt found here by @seaside-writings. Takes place in the future where Izana is controlling Toman (with Manila!Mikey). This was a lot of fun to write and I've enjoyed the reactions I've gotten so far, which has mainly been shock and horror lol. I hope you enjoy it.

now with a sequel!

**HEED THE WARNINGS**

She’s straddling his chest, knife poised on the base of his throat as her knees keep his arms pinned. His wide violet eyes meet hers and what pisses her off the most is the complete lack of fear she sees in them. She feels like she’s been running a marathon, the end finally in reach if she can just take one more step. That’s all she needs. One more step. 

She doesn't know how it got to this point. 

She can look back, regret bringing a sharp clarity to actions that she was blinded to before it was too late. Before he held her by the throat, forced her to face everything that he was and that he offered and refused to let go. She had been bordered by his men, one way or another. Closed off from anything that could reach out to pull her back out of the open water where he lay waiting to devour. 

She can see every step that led her into his trap, even the ones that were taken in haste because she was forced from behind. The man under her held her softly, sweetly and kissed her deep enough that she could taste the blood on his tongue. Her revulsion made him laugh, made him all the more determined that she remain chained to his side. Every part of her was broken apart, piece after piece, and she has been trying to glue herself back into place. Back into the woman she was before she ever crossed paths with Izana. 

He stares at her patiently, not even trying to fight. As if he knows it’s inevitable. 

It is inevitable. 

There is only so far that you can corner an animal before it lashes out and women are the more deadly of the species. 

“I thought you were going to kill me,” he says lightly, eyes never leaving hers. His gaze strips her bare. It always has. He lured her with promises and idealizations of a home, with the threat of revenge against those who have wronged her. 

“I want to see the life leave your eyes myself,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper with her panting. 

“Even if you got rid of me, you’d miss me. Admit it. You’d miss me.” He stares as if waiting for the answer he knows she’ll give. Not anymore. She refuses. To admit to missing him means that she would miss the way he cradled her to him, the way he held her throat in his hand and threatened to kill her, to throw her to the wolves. To miss him would be to admit that she liked everything he had done for her, to her, and the way he’d allow select few access to her cunt while he fucked them. He was almost always the one fucking. Always the one in control. 

It would be admitting that the pieces she was putting herself back together with were in his image. Not hers. 

She presses the knife a little harder and he doesn’t even flinch. “Never.”

“Liar.” 

He moves. Her weight isn’t enough to stop him, despite her efforts. The knife goes flying as she’s forced onto her back, an inversion of seconds ago. Her feet kick out, arms scratching at his until he uses his hold against her neck to lift her head just enough to slam it back down onto the ground. It makes her dazed. Enough that she stops struggling for a moment as her senses realign. 

“Admit it.” He orders again. “Tell your king the truth.” 

“Not my ki–” her voice is cut off with the pressure of his hand tightening. His gaze hardens at the response. 

“Stop lying.” He slams her head down again, harder this time and her vision goes black for a second before the pain blossoms. It makes her stomach roll but if she throws up now, she’ll choke until he decides she deserves to breathe. If he decides. 

Tears build up in her eyes, a response to the pain. The pressure on her throat releases enough that she can gasp in the air she desperately needs. 

He strokes her cheek gently as she coughs, tears falling out of the corners of her eyes. “You make things so hard on yourself,” he says softly. As if he hadn’t just nearly killed her. He brushes hair out of her eyes. 

“Iz-Iza-” she coughs. His grip tightens again in warning. She closes her eyes, willing to face death for what she’s done. She should have been faster. Why did she hesitate? After everything he’s done, she would have been doing the world a favour. 

“Try again.”

“Si–” his grip tightens and she chokes for a second, coughing once she’s granted air again. “-y king,” she gasps more than says it. A feeble attempt to keep his violence at bay. She’s seen enough of it. Felt enough. 

His grip loosens, back to the softness he imitates. “How long must we play this game? How long until it finally sinks in that you and I are intertwined?” She knows what he’s not saying. She would never be separated from him. He had dug himself into her bones, leaving the remnants of the girl she was into the thing he’s formed. 

Until there’s nothing left, is what she wants to say but she can’t. The words lodge themselves in her throat. Tears slip down the sides of her face as she stares up at the man who calls himself a king. He’s beautiful, ethereal with the casual violence he carries. 

He stares at her a moment longer, the corner of his lips twitching before he nods, seemingly satisfied at her inability to argue. She wants to. She does. She just can’t seem to pull the words out of her chest, to breathe life into a promise that she’ll succeed next time. A promise she’s made repeatedly and never fulfilled. 

She feels…tired. Emotionally wrought and wrung out. There’s a slight ringing in her ears that she can almost ignore. Her gaze slips from his face, staring at the art piece on the wall that he bought her after catching her staring at it too long. He hung it in a place of honour, front and centre as if to remind her that no matter what they’ve done, what he’s done, he’s taken care of her. Isn’t that what’s important? 

His fingers tighten on her chin before he turns her so that her eyes meet his again. He kisses his teeth lightly, another admonishment at her choices. She watches his gaze drift over her face. “You need to stop hurting yourself,” he says almost gently. It sounds like he actually cares, as if she’s only fallen and he hasn’t tried her kill her. Quid pro quo.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” he says in the same tone. “That you never learn, do you? No matter how many lessons I teach, you stay as stubborn as a child.” He leans back slightly, hips pressing closer against hers as he pulls her slightly closer so they remain connected. “Is that what you are? A child?” He stares as if waiting for a response she can barely think of giving. She tries to shake her head but the motion makes her stomach roll and it feels as if he’s finally knocked something loose in it. She probably needs a hospital. 

“Is that how I need to treat you?” 

“N-no,” she croaks out. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she forces out. She has to apologize. There’s no choice. If she doesn’t, he won’t kill her, but he’ll force her into another role that she knows will be worse than being a woman at his side. She can only imagine the way his men's faces will light up in amusement if he tells them to treat her as a child. They like humiliation too much when it’s not theirs. 

“Your words are worthless to me,” he tells me. “But I can be merciful. As long as you held the knife at my throat, you could never take that final step, could you?” 

She swallows the lump growing in her throat. No. Something held her back and she hates every part of herself for it. 

“No,” he answers for her. “Like I said, you’d miss me. Miss this.” He yanks her closer, moving her ass to rest on his knees, to keep her hips pressed against his. A parody of a mating press. One she’s been forced into before even if it never took. They’re consistent, at least, in ensuring she’s protected from that. 

Her gaze drifts again. She doesn't mean it but she can’t stay focused. Her head hurts and her throat feels scrubbed raw from his hold. She blinks and it feels like it takes longer than ever before she’s forced back to look at Izana. Will he mourn her if she dies here? Will he regret everything he’s done to her or will he only regret that it wasn’t on his terms? That’s how she should go. While she still has the ability to. She should wait until she’s left alone again and throw herself away, a final act of defiance in refusal to give him the satisfaction of choosing her death. It should be a choice she gets to make. Unless she hesitates like she did with a knife at his throat. Always unable to make that last move. 

He bends forward to brush his lips against hers. It’s soft, nearly tender and a complete contrast to his behaviour. She could lose herself in it, in the illusion he offers every time. It’s always so tempting to. It somehow feels so much more poignant after the things he does. She wants to soothe him, to make him offer this softness more and more until she’s drowning in it. Even if he’s the one pulling her under. 

“Izana,” she breathes into his mouth. 

He hums, smiling slightly at the submission. “Such a pretty thing like this, aren’t you?” He brushes her hair back. “You always are.” 

“My...my head hurts,” she whimpers. 

“You need to be more careful,” he says. “Such a clumsy thing, aren’t you?” He sighs before getting up, rocking back on his heels and standing. “You need me, even if you’re not willing to say it aloud. We both know it.” He offers his hand to her. 

She stares at it for a long moment, trying to will her body to work the way it’s supposed to, the way he expects it to. She’s been buried in his expectations, slowly suffocating under their weight. Can you be buried and broken apart? She thinks so. She feels like she is. The thing that emerges from the rubble is nothing she recognizes but he looks at her in satisfaction that makes part of her preen. It makes her sick.

She doesn’t know where she gets the strength, the courage, to shove her foot into his knee instead of taking his hand. He’s broken her into pieces, reforming her into what he wants, but the core of it is still her. She is still the woman she once was, even if she’s not the same. 

He swears at her, a hiss filled with warning and anger. She scrambles to stand but the concussion he’s left on her makes it difficult. She’s moving too quickly. Her stomach rolls and she crashes into the couch before she catches herself. The balcony lies before her. A beacon of release. A choice she can make. 

She runs.

Her fingers brush the cool glass before an arm reaches around her shoulder. A hand grabs her throat, circling it with an ease of familiarity before she’s sent flying back. Away from the balcony. Away from her chance. Still too slow, even if she didn’t hesitate. 

She slides across the floor, crashing into the wall across from it. The impact is jarring, sight going blank as her head rings until she’s folding over to throw up on the hard floor. Something’s broken. She can feel it in her arm, but she can’t focus. Can’t breathe through the nausea and taste of bile.

Izana walks towards her. She doesn’t have to look to know he’s disappointed. She can feel his anger even if he doesn’t show it. Instead, she hears him sigh. She curls up tighter, apologies worthless even if she tried. 

“A child it is then.” 

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

also: @scythegal and @m-ilkiee Network: @pixelcafe-network

I’m not tagging anyone else lol

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

Whenever you hear someone trying to blame kid's poor test scores "post pandemic" on "lockdowns," show them this.

By Dr. Sushama R. Chaphalkar, PhD.

New research shows that mild COVID-19 alters brain structure and connectivity in key areas responsible for memory and cognition, emphasizing the lasting effects on young people’s brain health.

In a case-control study published in the journal Translational Psychiatry, researchers used magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) and cognitive tests to examine brain structure, function, and cognition in adolescents and young adults with mild coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) compared to healthy controls in a pandemic hotspot in Italy. They identified significant changes in brain regions related to olfaction and cognition, with decreased brain volume and reduced functional connectivity in areas like the left hippocampus and amygdala, which were linked to impaired spatial working memory. Notably, no significant differences were observed in whole-brain connectivity, suggesting that these changes were localized rather than widespread.

Background COVID-19, primarily known for respiratory symptoms, also affects the central nervous system, leading to neurological issues like headaches, anosmia, and cognitive changes. MRI-based studies reveal anatomical brain changes in COVID-19 patients, such as reduced gray matter and decreased volume in regions like the hippocampus and amygdala, often linked to cognitive deficits.

While research mostly focuses on severe cases and older adults, a majority of infections with severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2), the causative agent of COVID-19, occur in adolescents and young adults who also experience long-lasting cognitive symptoms.

This age group, undergoing key brain development, is impacted by changes in spatial working memory and brain structure, which are crucial for cognitive functions shaped by social interactions, significantly disrupted by the pandemic.

Given that this is the largest and most understudied population affected by COVID-19, understanding the brain and cognitive impacts in adolescents and young adults is vital.

Therefore, researchers in the present study compared anatomical, functional, and cognitive outcomes, utilizing a longitudinal design that allowed them to assess both pre- and post-infection differences, in COVID-19-positive and negative adolescents and young adults from Lombardy, Italy, a global hotspot during the pandemic.

About the study The present study involved participants from the Public Health Impact of Metal Exposure (PHIME) cohort, a longitudinal investigation of adolescents and young adults in northern Italy. Between 2016 and 2021, 207 participants, aged 13 to 25 years, were included in a sub-study with MRI scans and cognitive tests. After COVID-19 restrictions were lifted, 40 participants (13 COVID+ and 27 COVID−) participated in a follow-up study, which replicated the MRI and cognitive assessments.

The mean age of participants was 20.44 years and 65% were female. COVID+ status was confirmed through positive reverse transcription polymerase chain reaction (RT-PCR) tests within 12 months of follow-up. Neuropsychological assessments used the Cambridge Neuropsychological Test Automated Battery (CANTAB) to evaluate spatial working memory.

MRI and functional MRI data were acquired using a 3-Tesla scanner, processed, and analyzed for structural and local functional connectivity using eigenvector centrality mapping (ECM) and functional connectivity (FC) metrics. Whole-brain functional connectivity metrics showed no significant differences between COVID+ and control groups, indicating that the observed changes were specific to key brain regions rather than generalized across the entire brain.

Statistical analysis involved the use of pairwise Student's t-tests, Kolmogorov–Smirnov test, linear regression, two-waves mediation analysis, negative binomial regression, and linear regression, all adjusted for covariates.

Results and discussion Significant differences were observed in the two groups regarding the time between assessments, COVID-19 symptoms, and vaccine status. The research identified five localized functional connectivity hubs with significant differences between the two groups, including the right intracalcarine cortex, right lingual gyrus, left frontal orbital cortex, left hippocampus and left amygdala, which is vital for cognitive functions. Only the left hippocampal volume showed a significant reduction in COVID+ participants (p = 0.034), while whole-brain connectivity remained unchanged, reinforcing the localized nature of the brain changes.

The left amygdala mediated the relationship between COVID-19 and spatial working memory "between errors" (p = 0.028), a critical finding that highlights the indirect effect of amygdala connectivity on cognitive function in COVID+ individuals. This mediation analysis underscores the role of specific brain regions in influencing cognitive deficits, as only the indirect effect was statistically significant for spatial working memory errors. The orbitofrontal cortex, involved in sensory integration and cognitive functions, also showed decreased connectivity in COVID+ individuals, supporting previous findings of structural and functional changes in this region during COVID-19.

The study is limited by small sample size, lack of diversity, potential confounding factors due to the long interval between MRI scans, treatment of certain subjects as COVID-negative based on antibody testing beyond the 12-month threshold, and the possibility of non-significant findings in mediation analysis due to these factors.

Conclusion In conclusion, the findings indicate persistent structural and functional alterations in specific brain regions of COVID-19-positive adolescents and young adults, including changes in gray matter volume and localized functional connectivity, which correlate with diminished cognitive function, particularly in working memory.

Further research is necessary to evaluate the longevity and potential reversibility of these brain and cognitive changes post-infection, enhancing our understanding of post-COVID outcomes and informing future interventions and treatments. The longitudinal design of this study, with pre- and post-COVID data, strengthens these findings by allowing direct comparisons over time, offering robust insights into the impact of COVID-19 on adolescent brain development.

Journal reference: COVID-19 related cognitive, structural and functional brain changes among Italian adolescents and young adults: a multimodal longitudinal case-control study. Invernizzi, A. et al., Translational Psychiatry, 14, 402 (2024), DOI: 10.1038/s41398-024-03108-2, www.nature.com/articles/s41398-024-03108-2

[regency-monster-love]

This fluffy smutty ficlet was inspired by @monstersflashlight's post about monster marriage tokens.

Male orc x female human | Regency era | NSFW: piv

As a little girl, she had been fascinated by the silver or gold rings that many orcs wore on their tusks. Was it simply jewelry, or did it serve some purpose? Her youthful curiosity had driven her to the village blacksmith, an orc himself, to find out why he made such things for his kind to wear. He had no time to explain tusk rings to a bothersome little human girl—but his little orc son had been glad to.

It was fitting, then, that a friendship that had started due to an interest in orc wedding rings should have blossomed into love and led to a wedding, all these years later. Here the two of them were, grown up now, a big orc groom and his little human wife, him bent down before her, her delicate hands placing a thick golden ring on his right tusk. His mouth was stretched into perhaps the widest smile she'd ever seen upon his normally gruff face. It made her want to laugh and kiss him, but all their family were watching them.

When the orc elder connected her husband's tusk ring to the new wedding ring on her left hand with a long golden chain, her orc husband looked happier still. He had assured her that it would not bother him that she had no left tusk to attach the chain to, as they would have done had she been a female orc rather than a human, and judging by his excited reaction to them becoming Linked tusk to hand, he had spoken truthfully. The big hulking male looked positively giddy.

Running the Link to a finger instead of a tusk became a problem, though, when they were alone together in their bedchamber that night and had to figure out how to remove her wedding gown without removing the chain or ring.

The orc had explained to his human, before they were married, that they would be Linked only until they consummated their marriage and became true mates. After that, they would remove the chain and wear only their rings as tokens of their Link.

But before then, it was imperative that they not remove the chain, even for a moment. So how could they get her out of the gown?

“Might we…carry out our, ah, marital duty…with my gown still on? Just this once?” the woman suggested, and was surprised to hear her husband growl low in his throat. She'd seen him have such a reaction to others, many times, but never to her.

He stepped into her, grasping her by the upper arms and seizing her gaze with a fire in his eyes. “I have waited years to find my mate and forge my Link with her, and I will not do so without seeing all of her, all of what is mine. I need you bare, wife.”

He moved his hands to her left sleeve, his thick, rough, green fingers contrasting so starkly with the soft pink silk. “How dear is this gown to you?” he asked.

“I’m pleased with it, but it’s only a gow—” Her words cut off with a gasp as he ripped the left sleeve completely off and tore the shoulder open.

“We’ll have it mended,” he told her gruffly, and shoved it off her body to the floor.

There was a blur of frantic movement then, clothes falling away, messy kisses, hands flying over newly exposed pink and green flesh, limbs tangling as they fell together onto the bed. The chain had become tangled in all this too, draped over his pointed ear and caught up in her dark hair, and they laughed together as they slowed their passion down to get it free.

Once it was untangled, the orc took hold of her left hand to lay a kiss upon her ring, then lifted her hand above her head, pinning it to the pillow there, in order to stretch the chain out in a long golden arc between them. His eyes slowly traced along its length, this gleaming symbol of their lifelong connection as mates, and his chest throbbed with a heated mixture of gratitude and want.

He was slow as he took her, not only because he was loath to hurt his little human on his thick orc cock, but also because he wanted to savor this first mating while Linked. Every plunge into her body made the chain sway between them, like it was dancing to the rhythm that their bodies made together. The only thing that could tear his gaze away from it was his mate’s beautiful face, flushed with pleasure, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted for her moans, as he buried himself in her again and again.

They learned each other’s bodies together as they forged their true Link. He slipped his free hand between them to rub at her swollen little pearl and make her arch up against him, and she slipped her free hand up to tug at his tusks and make him buckle forward with a bellow, and soon they were driving their hips against each other hard and fast, racing toward their peaks. The chain swung wildly between them now, but any sound it might be making was drowned out by the tumult of their skin slapping and ragged panting and cried-out encouragements to each other—yes, harder mate, more, more, yes my darling, just like that!—until finally it hit, her first and him immediately after, her cunt frantically milking his cock to draw out all his seed from his heavy balls into her womb.

Later, when they were sated and cleaned and lying close together under the covers, the orc rubbed his thumb back and forth over the ring on his tusk. He was smiling tenderly, a rare expression for his severe face that filled the woman with a warm happiness to look upon.

“Now we’re fully mates,” she said.

“Yes,” he said in a low rumbling voice that was practically a purr. He lifted the delicate golden chain and rubbed it between his fat calloused fingertips with a fond look. “So we can take this off now.”

“Must we? I’d like to sleep with it on, just this once.”

His smile grew wider and brighter. “I'll not say no to that, mate.”

She laid her head upon his shoulder and her left hand on his chest, the chain resting on top of his dark green skin in a glittering pool of gold that shone as bright and strong as their love itself.

~ 😈🎩 ~

This is the second time I’ve written about monsters using pretty golden chains when they get married. Oops.

Read all of my Regency monster ficlets and snippets at the tag #my writing.