#he has very distinct body language when he is

[roachemoji]

sleepy nub wags

[abyssalpriest]

unrelatedly.... Refreshing pickled ginger palette cleanser bc as Ive said Lev uses my english and habits for writing a lot of the time (and im heavily influenced by him lately), and lately ive been like "ugh god i dont know if im just not getting him across..." no lmfao, looking at how Hermes speaks in that last piece YEAH NO IM NOT CRAZY

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Stuck like glue

Request: "I'm going to scream your domestic character joining coop on his travels from her cabin is SO good 😭 I was wondering if you would write something with the same character in her cabin when coop turns up from nearby having taken one too many bullets? Or maybe he's sick and needs some jet. Some hurt/comfort fluffy sweetness"

A/N: Thank you to the awesome anon who sent the idea! Maybe not AS fluffy as we wanted, but there's for sure some soft Ghoul going on in here. And, oh yeah, the reader has a dog now. No description of said dog has been given, so please imagine as you'd wish.

Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader

WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, brief mentions of sexual interaction.

Summary: Your favorite Ghoul needs to be patched up after a spat with some Raiders, and you always know just how to make him feel better.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Gif credit to @elisefrost from this set

You’re outside attempting to hang clothes to dry when you hear it. 

The soft but distinct sound of jingling metal comes from behind your cabin. You set one hand on the pistol strapped to your thigh and walk in that direction, eyes peeled for any movement. A bark echoes the sound from your porch, and you snap at your four-legged companion in an attempt to get him to stay. 

“Tiger!” You hiss. “Quit!”

 He relents with an indignant huff and returns to the porch, while the metallic noise keeps up in a steady pattern, akin to the cadence of a slow walk. You tilt your head at the thought and eventually move the hand off your pistol; only one person would dare tread this close in broad daylight with such carelessness.

“Coop?”

You don’t see him anywhere, but you’re almost certain it was the sounds of his old spurs that caught your attention. 

“Cooper if you’re tryna scare me, you know I'll gut you.” The threat is an empty one, but saying it gives you some hope that it’s indeed him and not a Raider or Slaver looking to score some loot. 

“No need, babydoll.” His voice sounds ragged, tired. “Don’t think I could scare a bunny rabbit at the moment.” 

You follow his voice to your left, and find the Ghoul leaned up against a tree. He’s practically swaying in the breeze, very apparently unsteady. You rush over just as he slides down and collides with the dirt.. 

“Cooper! What happened to you?” 

Your hands flutter up and down his arms, brusquely checking for any injuries. Nothing obvious jumps out at you, but he heals fast and external wounds are rare. A wheeze claws its way up his throat and morphs into a hacking cough. You recognize the sound as the need for a Vial, and grab at his bag. 

“Do you have any on you?” 

A stuttered cough answers. “Fresh out… s’why I came here.”

Your stash of Vials had been growing just about as long as you’d known Cooper. When you traveled together, he’d hand some off to you for safekeeping, and there always ended up being extras. Upon your return home, he’d tell you to keep them. It wasn’t shocking, given that he found his way back every couple of days.

“Alright, come on.” You crouch down and position yourself beneath Cooper’s arm. 

You can tell he’s weak by the way he leans into you, knees wobbling relentlessly as you pull him up. Another round of coughing wracks his body and you squeeze him reassuringly. 

“Couch isn’t far.” You chose your words carefully, avoiding any inkling of pity. Having an already deteriorating Ghoul is enough, let alone a defensive one who hates being pitied. 

Cooper does his best to keep up with your steps, but his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated. You can feel the heat radiating off of him through his jacket and hear him wheezing beside your ear. Stepping onto the porch gives him some trouble, but you manage to haul him up and inside the door. Tiger whines nervously, circling the pair of you as you trek inside. The Ghoul collapses onto the couch as soon as it’s within reach. 

After making sure Cooper’s not going to slide off the couch, you continue to the med-kit in your makeshift kitchen. The Vials are hidden at the very bottom, wrapped in cloth for extra cushion to prevent shattering. You decide there’s more than enough for him to take two, and carefully extract the mysterious chem. 

Cooper’s laid out on his back when you return with the Vials. One arm is thrown over his eyes and the other dangling off the side of the couch with Tiger perched beneath. The dog nuzzles his favorite person’s hand for attention, and it elicits a chuckle from you. Even as the only conscious person in the room, you were still second in Tiger’s eyes. 

“Coop.” You shake his shoulder gently. “Hey. Hey. Where’s your inhaler?”

You nudge his hat away and he blinks slowly. “Mmm.”

“Ok then.” You mutter and pat down his jacket, searching for the contraption he always carries. The coat yields no results, and you pat down his pants until you feel it tucked away into the pocket at his hip. “Finally.”

Cooper shuffles ever so slightly when you slip your hand into his pocket. “H-hey now. I know you love me, baby, but I-I ain’t got it in me right now.”

An errant smile pushes its way onto your lips. You snap the meds into place on his inhaler 

“Open up.”

He fails to heed your instructions, and you ultimately end up forcing the inhalant into his mouth. It never works instantly, but within a minute or so of administering it there’s movement. One of Cooper’s hands lifts to cup yours, puffing on the inhaler again. 

You release your hold on it and rock back onto the balls of your feet. It’s then you take note of the holes in his clothing, and run a hand down his chest. There’s numerous holes, some as big as your finger and others no larger than a pinhead. 

“Cooper, what happened to you?” You sit on the edge of the couch beside him as he takes his first deep breath without Chems. 

“I just turn’d in a bounty and some Raiders jumped me.” He looks down at your hand on his chest. “Bastards shot me ten or eleven times. Damn buckshot got me good.”

You nod. “I can tell. You were in a bad way, Coop.”

The Ghoul sits up slowly beside you so his legs can swing off the couch. “I’ll be good as new, soon as this stuff starts workin’ good.” 

Tiger hops up on the couch next to him, tail wagging with excitement. The dog licks your cheek on his way to Cooper and pushes his nose into the Ghoul’s shoulder. You chuckle at the interaction, patting the dog’s shoulders. Coopers are still hunched with exhaustion, and his deep-set eyes look even more so. 

“Well until they do, you rest.” You stand, glancing out the still-ajar door. “It’s getting dark anyway.”

Cooper, as usual, opens his mouth to protest. If there’s anything he hates, it’s feeling useless. 

“No arguments.” You point a finger at him. “I mean it.”

He grumbles, but relents. “Fine. Only if you turn somethin’ on that ol’ TV of yours.”

The television turns out to be a perfect method of relaxation. You have to remove Cooper from the couch temporarily, but wrestle it into the pullout bed form and line it with blankets. The Ghoul had given in to his exhaustion rather easily at the prospect of a comfortable bed and kicked off his boots to climb all the way in. You hung his coat on a nail by the door, but made sure to leave his guns, lasso, and assorted weapons within arm’s reach. The TV played some old soap opera from before your time while you snagged a couple of hard candies- a luxury item, as the nearest settlement called them- and made to settle in. 

Cooper had managed to prop himself against the back of the couch, feet kicked out down the length of the thin mattress. Tiger, seeking attention as per usual, is curled up against his right leg. A wet nose rests just beneath Cooper’s knee and twitches in interest when you unwrap the first candy. 

The Ghoul might as well be a dog himself for the way his ears perk at the sound of a wrapper. 

He watches intently as you very gracefully clamber to sit next to him. You pop the fruit-flavored candy in your mouth and scoot around until you find comfort. In this case, it’s leaned up against the Ghoul beside you, head dropping onto his shoulder. His breathing is still shallower than you’d like, but a vast improvement from where it was when he’d shown up. 

“You ain’t gonna share?” 

You open your fist and offer up one of the candies. “I suppose I could. But only for you.”

A smirk twists the corners of his scarred lips. You poke at the candies and attempt to read the labels to no avail. 

“I’d offer you a choice of flavor, but…” You shrug, looking back up to your Ghoul. “Slim pickings.”

He lifts a bare hand to your chin, tilting up. “I think the pickin’s are just fine.”

You smile and lean in to meet him, lips falling into a familiar dance.The hand on your chin slides down to grip your nape and holds you firmly in place. It’s not long before the candy is gone from your mouth. Its remnants remain, mingling with the taste of gunpowder and smoke. A few moments pass before you decide to separate

“Miss me much?” You inquire, cuddling yourself down into his side. 

His arm raises to accommodate your body and lowers it back down to encircle your shoulders once you’re settled. “I always miss you darlin’. For a variety of reasons.”

You hum softly, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Cooper’s hand trails up and down your arm, leaving wide trails of gooseflesh. “Well, the main one happens to be the lack of entertainment.”

You scoff. “I’m your entertainment?”

“Fuck yeah, you are. ‘Specially when you’re hollerin’ at scavengers and shootin’ anything that moves.” The Ghoul chuckles to himself. “Or trippin’ over a sleeping yao guai.”

You shove him playfully. “That was one time, and I shot it dead anyway.”

Cooper pulls you towards him, and you shift until you’re between his legs, back pressed against his chest. “That you did, sweetheart. I ain’t forgot.”

He grabs the nearest blanket and tosses it over your entangled bodies. You curl to the side and rest your cheek to his chest. Tiger shuffles his body with a huff, apparently frustrated with the lack of attention.

“What would you do without me?” You tap his chest gently, relishing in the warmth he produces. “Other than get eaten by a yao guai?”

The Ghoul scratches Tiger’s head. “Prolly go feral. Chase around some folk to scare em’.”

You know he’s joking, but the thought of losing him to ferality scares you to no end. Particularly since he’s just shown up on death’s door and almost hacked a lung onto your floor.

“Don’t say that.” You lift your head to catch his eye. “Please.”

Cooper may be a gruff old Ghoul with a dreadful outlook on the world, but he softens ever so slightly at your words.

“You know I don’t mean it, sugar. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Two scarred fingers hook beneath your jaw and pull you back up to his lips. It’s tame at first, but the Cooper you know wastes no time making an appearance. His teeth nip at your lip gently and one rough hand slides up your side until it cups your breast. You press into him eagerly, climbing upwards until your thighs slot around either side of his hips. He responds by grinding them into you, delicious friction warming you from head to toe.  

Tiger decides he’s disgusted at this point, and hops off the couch with a comical groan.

Unbothered, one of your hands latches onto the lasso that is tossed on top of his pile of weapons. You loop it around his neck, gripping either side of the rope and pulling him in. Cooper smirks against your mouth. 

“Oh I love being stuck with you, Cowpoke.” You whisper against his mouth, earning yourself a quick bite to the bottom lip.

The Ghoul grins and quickly shows how much strength he’s regained by reversing your positions. He snatches the rope faster than you can react, and wraps the fingers of one hand loosely around the column of your throat. There’s just enough pressure to shoot a pang of arousal between your legs. Cooper knows you’re squirming, and presses a knee there to relieve some of the ache. 

“Glad t’hear it.” He murmurs into your neck, “‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[jensthwa]

love's an uncharted path ★ masterlist.

★ prev called: show & tell universe ★

An exploration of the eight distinct stories of friendship, love, and self-discovery that intertwine as each character faces the trials of entering adulthood and falling in and out of love.

warnings: smut, drinking and drugs, adult language and descriptions of the female body, angst, tears and attempted comedy throughout all stories.

note: these stories are being posted in chronological order, although there's some context within them that range from their childhood, teen years and college years. in these stories, the guys are in their last years of college/entering their first job and tasting a bit of adulthood as they navigate through the motions and find love in the way. 

MINGI'S STORY: SHOW AND TELL (bf2l).

summary: you have known mingi since you both were fourteen. you’ve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering he’s your other half. when he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, you’re just the best friend a guy like him can have.

main story: part one (8k) & part two (11k).

extras: tba.

WOOYOUNG'S PRELUDE: A CLOWN'S REMEDY TO HEAL A BROKEN HEART (halloween special, hookeup2??).

summary: a drunk and kind of akward conversation inside of a closet is the start of Wooyoung's journey into healing his broken heart. only he doesn't really know the name of the scarlet witch that helped mend a heart that wasn't supposed to break anymore, even if she starts plaguing his thoughts and dreams after that.

posted here (11.9k).

SAN'S STORY: WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS (f2s2l).

summary: san is your first love. he broke your heart and played with your feelings without even kissing you back when you two were in highschool. now, many years later, you do your best to avoid crossing paths with him because there's just no way you could ever hate him, but there's also no way you two can be friends again. but his best friend is also one of your best friends, so there's only so much you can do to avoid san when he arranges a dinner you're forced to go to.

main story: one shot (20k).

extras: tba.

SEONGHWA'S STORY: I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN' YOU (s2l, love at first sight).

summary: in an attempt to grasp at his youth, seonghwa buys a motorcycle despite not knowing the first thing about them. when it inevitably breaks down, he has no other option that to ride it to a mechanic shop and, after following a sweet hum, he’s faced with the life-changing (and predictable) fact that, maybe, what he needed after all was not a motorcycle. maybe, just maybe, what he needed was you.

main story: one shot (20k).

extras: tba.

YUNHO'S STORY: MOUNTEBANK CHEM (e2f2l, arranged pr relationship). CURRENTLY WRITING!

summary: the first time you met yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. you didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and jeong yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. is that reason enough to hate his guts? well, of course! now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? and, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

main story: part one (9.7k), part two (14.2k) & part three (tba).

extras: tba.

WHAT'S NEXT?

YEOSANG'S STORY: WIP.

HONJOONG'S STORY: WIP.

JONGHO'S STORY: WIP.

WOOYOUNG'S STORY: WIP (extra: woo's prelude / posted!).

[froggiewrites]

A Deal You Can't Refuse

Pairing: Demon!Zoro x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You’re tired. Of coming home to an empty apartment from a shitty job you can’t stand, of every day being the same. Tired of simply surviving and not living. So when a handsome stranger comes along, offering you the deal of a lifetime, who could blame you for considering it? Even if said stranger has curling horns and a sharp toothed smile that show he’s a bit more than just your ordinary man? Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Mild Dubcon, Demonic Contracts, Possession, Masturbation (while possessed), Edging, Marking, Fingering, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 3.6k Notes: I'm honestly pretty excited this one won the poll, I think this is a really strong start 😊This is the longest piece in the entire event! Halloween Special 2024

Another day of shitty work for shitty pay.

Another day of coming back to an empty, crumbling apartment to fall onto a lumpy uncomfortable mattress for a restless night of sleep just so you can wake up and do it all over again.

It’s temporary, you tell yourself. Just until you save enough for a better apartment, just until you save enough that you can quit your job and survive until you find a better one. You just have to wait, and wait, and wait. And sure, you waited for freedom before, and it got you here. But this time will be different. This time it will pay off.

It has to.

It isn’t a particularly bad day when your routine finally breaks, nor is it particularly good. Up until this very moment, it was the kind of perfect mundanity that blurs one day into the rest to create a smothering tapestry of wasted time in your memory. None of them particularly distinct from the rest, none of them worth recalling.

But today there is a man in your bed when you get home.

He’s massive, built like a tank, and he hardly fits in your pathetic twin bed. You can hardly make out any of his features, with his arm covering his face and your blanket covering most of the rest, but for a moment you could swear that his hands seemed to blacken as they reached the tips of his fingers, turning to long black nails with sharpened points.

Your shoulders tense, ready to run, to scream for help (which your neighbors surely won’t provide), to do absolutely anything other than walk through that door.

But then he starts snoring.

It’s so ridiculous you can’t help but laugh. There’s a stranger sleeping in your bed. Of course there is. Why the hell not? At least it’s something new. You close and lock the door behind you as always, throwing your bag to the ground and flopping down on your creaky couch. The stranger continues snoring away, even as you put on the TV and try to drown him out. You should probably call the cops, or grab something to arm yourself with, or do absolutely anything about the situation, but you’re so tired you can hardly bring yourself to care. 

It takes an hour for him to wake up.

“What time is it?” His voice is gruff, deep, and thick with sleep.

You look over the back of the couch at him. “It’s about seven.”

“Hm.” He stays still for a moment, before his eyes shoot open and he stands in an instant. He’s tall, towering over you easily, and you can finally see the entirety of him. He has ram’s horns curling out of his green hair, decorated in beautiful gold that matches the earrings hanging from his left ear. He isn’t wearing a shirt, giving you a good look at his muscles, and the transition of his body from man to beast at his hips, where he starts to resemble a ram. He has cloven hooves, which make a loud clop against the floor when he lands. You realize that you didn’t just let a stranger sleep in your bed, but some kind of monster. A demon, perhaps. One of his hands goes to rub his temple, and he grimaces, showing off his incredibly, incredibly sharp teeth, which you instantly imagine sinking into your skin. “Oh, shit!”

You startle, trying to stop thinking about what his teeth might feel like on your neck. “Um. Ah. Good morning?”

“Good morni–What the fuck? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I don’t…know.”

“What?”

“It was just, um. I had a really long day at work, and you were clearly sleeping so deep, and I just…couldn’t really bring myself to care.”

“Oh my god.”

You furrow your brows. “Can you say that?”

“What?”

“God. Are you supposed to like, talk about him? Is that not frowned upon?”

“Is that what you’re worried about right now?”

“For once in my life, I don’t think I’m worried about anything right now. This is too insane for me to process.”

He stares at you for a moment, before he lets out a loud, bellowing laugh. “God. What the hell, sweetheart? I was right to pick you, clearly you need the help.”

“Help?”

He gives you a sharp, dangerous grin. Some part of you, the part that has kept you alive and safe this long despite the monotony slowing you down and dulling your edges, is screaming for you to run. To leave. This thing in front of you, this creature, is far more dangerous than he appears, than he feels. But you can’t bring yourself to listen. “Yeah, help. Name's Zoro. You’re tired, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He reaches out to touch your cheek, and you don’t even flinch when you feel his claws trace down your face. “You’re working so hard, and for what? To do it all again tomorrow?”

You find yourself leaning in, even as your brain screams for you to stop. “For a better future. I’m thinking beyond tomorrow.”

He’s dripping with sympathy. “Are you? Do you even have the energy to dream anymore?”

You can’t remember the last time you could actually picture your future, picture a life outside of this room. When did you stop dreaming? “Of course I do.” The lie leaves easily, but the bitterness it leaves on your tongue lingers.

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t lie to me. But that’s okay, I know you’re just scared.” He’s bearing down on you, invading your space, and you can feel heat radiating off of him. “But I can fix that, if you let me.”

God, wouldn’t that be nice? To just let go, and have it all work out for once? But you��re not stupid enough to believe a demon, despite everything. No matter how handsome the smile, how saccharine the words, no matter how much you want to melt into him and just let it all happen. “No way in hell.”

His eyes soften with pity. “I thought you’d say that. Didn’t even want to hear my offer. Because you know if you do you’ll want it, and you can’t handle holding yourself back any longer. I understand, really.  And I’m really not supposed to do this, but I just can’t stand letting you waste away here, letting this opportunity slip through your fingers. So I’ll give you a little sneak peek, to help you make your decision.”

“What?”

In an instant, his lips are on yours, and you’re filled with a warmth to your very core. It spreads through your limbs, fills your lungs, the sensation pleasant.

Until you realize you’re speaking.

“Now, sweetheart, I would really prefer to show you the real deal, but I can work with this. Just remember how much better it would be if it were me.”

That was your voice, your mouth moving. “What?”

“Don’t worry, honey. It’ll be good.”

Your hands move toward your chest, and you don’t stop them. You don’t know if you want to. They undo your buttons slowly, as though waiting for a protest that doesn’t come. You don’t say a word until your shirt and bra are fully off, and your hands find your nipples, tweaking them lightly. You shiver, and your mouth smirks. It makes your shoulders tense, makes you defensive. “So proud of yourself for something so small.”

“Is it so wrong to want to please you, sweet thing? To know I was right, and that this was what you needed?”

“What I need, huh? You really think that?”

“I know it.”

Your hands pull off your pants and panties in one smooth motion, no fanfare. Your body sits on the bed, legs spread and ready. Your hands trace delicately up your legs, up to your thighs, and to his final destination. He inserts your fingers into you, not at all delicately, and your body lets out a soft moan. You can’t tell which of you did it. You know it’s him who whispers to the air, tauntingly, “My fingers are longer than this, y’know. And thicker. Imagine how they’d feel, so deep inside of you like this. And god, my tongue? It’s not just for sweet talking poor little mortals like you into deals. I’d have you falling apart already.”

Once he’s done puppeting your head, you feel control fall back to you for a moment. “I think you’re all talk. You can’t even make me cum on fingers I already know can do the job. All size, no skill, huh?”

Your finger finds a spot you know very well, and you can’t help the noise that comes from you. Your mouth smirks against your will. “Is that what you think? You can talk big all you want, sweetheart, but you can’t fool me. I can feel everything you can. And when I do this—” he curls your fingers just right, “—I can feel you clench your teeth trying to hold back. Who are you holding out for? It’s just you here. Would it be so bad to let it all go? Let me take care of you, sweet thing. I can give you all the pleasure you could ever want. You just need to say yes.”

“Eat shit,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

You hear your own laugh, far deeper in your chest than you can normally feel it. “Aw, don’t be like that. This could all be so easy. The only one you’re hurting here is yourself.” The hand he kept idle reaches up, slowly rolling your nipples through your fingers. Your eyes flutter closed despite yourself, as both hands work in unison. 

You hear your voice again, thick with want. “Imagine how much more I could do if you let me. Even just a simple kiss could unravel you. And my teeth—and I saw how you looked at them, sweetheart, there’s no fooling me—I could leave you covered in marks. I could make sure everyone you met would know you were mine, ensure they wouldn’t fade for weeks. Imagine them against your neck, right on your pulse. Imagine how easily I could bite through—but I wouldn’t, of course. No to you. But I could—that’s what matters to you, isn’t it?”

“No,” you murmur weakly, clenching around your fingers. “I don’t give a shit about how you look, demon.”

“Well that’s not very nice, is it? You know my name, you can use it.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying, sweetheart. I’m not the one standing in the way of that.” You’ve never heard yourself purr before. It would be rather jarring if your head wasn’t so fuzzy. “I know you want to be strong, to listen to that little voice in your head begging you not to give in, but you know where that little voice is going to get you in life?”

“It’s going to keep me from trapping myself in hell, I think.”

Another laugh. “Well, it could. But really, it’s going to keep you here. Alone. In this sad little room, in your sad little life, safe and sound and so very, very bored. And what use is a life if you don’t use it to live? Where’s the thrill?”

“I can get my thrills somewhere other than fucking a demon, thanks.”

“But you won’t. Sure, you could get into a fight. Do some drugs. Fuck a stranger—one not as handsome as me, but someone. But you won’t do it. Because it wouldn’t be safe. Because you’d be risking something, no matter how small, and you’re terrified of losing control.” Your fingers pick up speed as his rant continues. “But you don’t need control, really. You don’t even want it. You just don’t know how to let go. I promise you, sweetheart, you’ll never regret letting go of the reins. Hand ‘em to me, and I promise you you’ll enjoy every second of the rest of your life, and eternity after that. Imagine it—a life where you don’t have to agonize over every little choice. A life where you’re warm, and safe, and happy, and never, ever alone. Cockdrunk and lost in pleasure, wrapped up in my arms. Can you really, really tell me you don’t want that? Not even a little?”

You imagine it for a moment. A warm bed. Someone to come home to. Never another night spent curled up in this little apartment, dreading tomorrow, knowing it will be more of the same. Never again having to agonize over every little thing, terrified of something bringing your house of cards tumbling down. Never spending the night having to talk yourself down from fear of an unknown, unnamed threat, some unearned terror your brain has forced upon you. It would be sweet. God, would it be sweet. But that feeling sinks in again, that familiar tightness in your chest, and your mouth says the word you always knew it would. “Yes, I could. I don’t want it.”

“God, you’re full of shit.” Your head extends back, giving you a lovely view of your water-stained ceiling, the one that threatens to crumble in on you any day now. You can feel the coil in your stomach tightening, devastatingly close to snapping. “But if you insist.”

Your fingers are gone, and you’re clenching around nothing.

“Wha–?” You sound absolutely pathetic, wanting and needy, and you finally hear a laugh that isn’t your own as he appears in front of you again. 

His smirk is all teeth, demeaning and dripping with faux sympathy. “Oh, poor thing. Never knowing what she wants. But I have no choice but to listen to you, do I? If you say it’s a no, it’s a no. A shame. Maybe you can get off on your own.” He leans forward, his lips so close to brushing against yours, but when you lean forward to meet him, he pulls back. “Oh, no, I don’t think so, sweetheart. If you don’t want me, you don’t want me. No half measures.”

You suddenly feel horribly vulnerable, naked and dripping as he looks down at you. You could have tried to chase your orgasm, demon in your room be damned, but you can’t bring yourself to bring yourself to put your fingers back, let him watch you try and fail to measure up to his performance. It feels like letting him win, showing him he’s gotten to you. You tell yourself that’s why you sit still, thighs still parted, staring at him with hooded eyes. Because movement would show weakness. Not because you enjoy the way he’s looking at you, like he can’t keep his eyes off of you, like you’re something worth coveting. Even if it’s in a demon’s nature to lust, to want, to conquer, it must mean something for you to be what brings about these sins. It has to.

“A shame,” he repeats. “You were so close.”

You can feel yourself twitch. You really were.

“It would have felt so wonderful. Mindblowing, really.”

It would have.

“It would have been so easy to say yes.”

It still could be. You finally look away from his heated eyes, and you find your gaze drifting down, beyond his bare torso, his plethora of scars, his clawed hands crossed over his massive chest. None of that shakes your resolve, or at least you’re going to keep telling yourself that. What gets you is the massive tent in his pants, evidence of his own desire. Evidence this deal isn’t just for your sake, or for your soul, or whatever else he might demand in exchange for your cooperation. On some level, he simply wants this, wants you. 

“Please.” Your voice shakes.

He stiffens, clearly taken aback. “Please?”

“Please. I’ll take the deal. Just…finish this, please.” You spread your legs a little further, opening your arms to reach out to him. “Please take me.”

“Finally!” He dives forward, lips crashing into yours, teeth clacking. His tongue is longer than you imagined as it shoves its way into your mouth, desperate for a taste of you. One of his hands traces along your thigh, claws raising goosebumps in their path, and the other rips off his pants with an enthusiasm usually saved for unwrapping a present. You suppose he is, in a way. You try to break the kiss to see his dick in all its glory, but he refuses to let you leave, lips chasing yours until he’s finally forced to let you go to breathe.

Even as he parts from you, it's only to move down to your neck, lavishing it with the attention he promised earlier. His bites are not at all gentle, all done with the express purpose of marking you as his. You finally get to see his cock, absolutely massive and throbbing, leaking precum as it rests against your thigh, desperate for entrance. You don’t know what he’s waiting for, you’re ready and willing, but he must have his reasons for dragging this out. You reach your hands out, expecting to touch his abs, feel them beneath your fingers, but instead you find your hands wrapping around his cock, feeling its weight in your hands.

He groans into your neck. “Eager, are we?”

“I could say the same thing about you.” You feel him twitch at the sound of your voice. You pump your hand once, twice, and savor the sound of his moan. The bites on your neck turn to open mouthed kisses, leaving plenty of hickies on his way down to your chest. His hand finally finds its destination between your legs, fingers delicately inserting themselves between your folds, carefully so he doesn’t scratch you with his claws. They’re so much better than you imagined earlier as he had taunted you. You can feel the stretch as he slowly begins to pump in unison with your pace on him, both of you working each other up. You can feel yourself tighten around him, and your hand falters, distracted by your own pleasure. He doesn’t seem to mind as he continues, moaning against you.

“Just let go, sweetheart. Let it happen. I’ll be here to catch you.” You let go of him entirely, your hands falling to clutch the bedsheets. Your thighs clench around his hand as you cum on his fingers, crying out. He keeps moving until he’s sure he’s milked all of the pleasure he can from you, before pulling his fingers out and bringing them up to his mouth. His tongue, long and forked, wraps around them, savoring your taste.

Before you have a moment to breathe, his cock is pressing against your entrance. His breath is ragged against your ear. “Time for the main event, sweet thing. After this, no turning back. You’ll be mine, and you’ll never have to worry about a thing ever again. I’ll take good care of you.”

He pushes in in one smooth motion, your body welcoming him like you were his already. He thrusts deep and hard, arms wrapping tightly around you as he hits spots you didn’t even know existed. You can feel your orgasm building again quickly, and you can hear him moaning in your ear at the sensation of finally being inside of you. “Give me another one, sweetheart, just one more, and the contract is sealed. Then you’ll get this every day. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes!”

“An eternity of pleasure, a reward for all of your hard work.”

“Yes!”

“Yes, just like that.” Your hips snap together furiously, heat building between you. “Doing so well.” The heat grows and grows, burning through you and leaving nothing behind. When you finally hit your peak, you’re so lost in it all you can feel nothing but your own orgasm and the hot cum shooting into you. You don’t feel the heat of the air, or notice the bed beneath you and the scenery around you has changed. You don’t even notice the smell of smoke, too busy screaming in pleasure.

He’s panting, head pressed into your shoulder, before he laughs. “Great work, sweetheart.” He pulls out, rolling off of you and onto his back, arms behind his head. “We’re really gonna enjoy this.”

The mattress beneath you is plush, sheets silky. The ceiling above you is inlaid with gold, and doesn’t threaten to cave in for even a second. The scent of incense fills the air. You sit up, head whipping around, confused and tense. You hear a jingling as you do. You look down to see it: a black leather collar, fitted tightly but not suffocatingly around your neck. There’s a small golden bell attached, which gently chimes when you move. “What?”

A dark chuckle sounds from beside you. “Don’t worry about it, sweet thing. You don’t have to worry about anything, anymore.”

You’re about to get up, get away from him, demand answers. Before you can, however, an arm reaches for your waist and pulls you down. Your head is pressed into a warm chest, with no room to move. “Calm down.” he coos. “Just relax.” His hand pats your head, and you melt into him despite yourself. “Good pet, just like that. That’s all you have to do now. Sit here, look pretty, and take what I give you. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of it all.”

You’re practically purring as he rubs your back, whispering about how much you’re going to love this. An easy life, filled with nothing but pleasure and comfort. Everything you’ve ever wanted. All you have to do is let it happen.

“It’ll be easy, sweetheart. Just leave everything to me.”

You can let go. If the collar fits, why not wear it?

And so you do, as you curl into his chest and fall asleep, lulled by the rumbling of his chest and the sound of his voice.

Taglist: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[the-alarm-system]

A Guide: Encouraging Separation in Plurality

Hello! I'm Ardyn, and I decided to make this guide because after talking to many systems, I've come to realize that moving from a near medianhood to a full multiplicity may encourage better function for certain systems. For us any identity blurriness brings a lot of pain that has been aided by further separation and amnesiac barriers. Before you put an awful judgement on this, remember that healing is different for everyone, and breaking down barriers isn't best for everyone. This is up to the system, there is no guilt on wanting to do what is best for your system.

RADQUEERS DONT TOUCH

This guide will hold many different exercises and ideas that have been taken from tulpamancy and my own experiences.

first I'd say get situated with identity grounding and also following the "The Body is a Car" exercise within these sources

Identity Grounding

Guide to Switching

Building up Distinction

Separate Journals/Diaries

A seperate journal or diary that nobody can write in but that headmate is a good way to help a headmate build up their identity. They will be able to write down their own experiences and their own feelings, and this seperate space gives reinforces the idea that they are ultimately apart from you.

Separate Accounts with a Separate Feed

Something that pushed for the blur was having similar feeds, seeing my interest would push me to the front and cause issues for Vincent. He ended up making his own account on reddit where he is able to join subreddits that appeal to solely his interest, and it would help keep him at front instead of pull someone else.

Distinct Hobbies

encourage your headmates to pick up hobbies that are not something you may be interested in, hobbies give way to individuality as now they may seek others who share that hobby or spaces online that appeals to that hobby.

Different Clothing and Ownership

Assign different clothing and other items to headmates, let them pick out their own jacket and may they be the only ones to wear that jacket. Let them have their own perfume, let them have their own bag, let them have their own keychain for the car keys. This won't just give you that barrier, but also can be used as a form of identity grounding during a blur. When in blur, you will be able to tell whose fronting based on what clothing makes you feel more yourself.

Different Friends

This option may be more difficult, but it works very efficiently. Let your headmates have their own friend, I mean it. Giving them someone outside the system that they themselves can solely talk to is absolutely perfect in giving that split. Interacting and communication outside the body and encouraging unmasking will do wonders.

Drop Part Language

If you really want to encourage separation, you will have to drop the idea that you are all pieces of another. This is however a preference, speak to your headmates about it. Speak to them about terms they may prefer, maybe customized role names, let them be themselves. Push to yourself too that these are different people, not parts of you. But like I said, if parts language isn't an issue for you, then you might not have to change after all :P but I recommend it for this all to work.

Identity Separating Exercises

Now as you have pushed the formation of these headmates, now it's your goal to start separating them more and more through these exercises

Remember: Fake it until you make it

Being consistent in these exercises will be great, but you also have to make sure you believe that they are working. Plurality is very much a brain game, you have power over yourself and the more you believe these separations the more they will be. Some of these exercises are purely for pushing the belief, I recommend having a collection of proof on your plurality to refer to whenever you get doubtful.

I also recommend joining a tulpamancy community such as a discord or reddit, even if you don't practice tulpamancy, these people have so much trust in themselves and the process that it starts to rub off on you.

Separation Meditation

If you are able to visualize and even after doing all the above you still feel like your headmate hasn't fully left you, this exercise may be useful. In this meditation, you are to visualize the headmate in front of you. Then repeat "___ is a separate person from me" repeatedly for however long you like once a day.

Discussions

Speak to your headmates, ask questions about their lives

Here is a good source on that

The best route to take is to discuss opinions and specifically focus on what you disagree on, this will reinforce in your mind that this person is not you, this person does not agree with you, this person has their own opinion. Focus on those ideas until they really settle, and maybe also record these disagreements in your proof collection.

Affirmations

If you are a bit too busy for these things, constant affirmation throughout the day are both simple and helpful. Here is a good list

"__ is a seperate person from me"

"the system has entirely different and seperate people"

"___ is real and a seperate person"

"the system is noticeably distinct"

at first it may feel silly, but like I said, fake it until you make it. These will reinforce ideas.

Building Up Amnesiac Barriers

This may be more controversial, but for us these barriers help a ton. I would like to say that we already had blackout amnesia to begin with, but these exercises made them "worse". There are many reasons why a system may want to have higher amnesiac barriers, ours being privacy and independence, try to avoid judgement on this decision. The Switching Guide above also has an exercise that will push lost time.

"Cancel Recall"

When a memory from another headmate tries to seep into your thought process, immediately cover that memory and say to yourself "This memory isn't mine to remember". Perhaps visualize a door closing on it or a lock appearing on that memory. Mentally assign that memory to the correct headmate and move on

Affirmation

Affirmations that may help these barriers can be used situationally, just whenever you try and remember a time another headmate fronted think "No, I don't remember"

Headspace Tools

If you have a headspace, try using creation. Imagine cutting memory ties off with everyone else that can only temporarily be connected when agreed upon by both parties. Maybe also set up a headspace memory lock system.

Using Remnants left behind

When I say this I mean use something such as text messages a headmate left behind and when scrolling through them, focus and think "This wasn't me, I don't remember typing this".

Memory Redirection

Most times it's harder to push a memory away than just redirect it. When redirecting memory, for example you start to remember something another headmate did in meatspace, recite "that wasn't me, what did I do during this time" and attempt to recall your time within the headspace instead.

FAKE IT UNTIL YOU MAKE IT, REMEMBER THAT

what do you guys think? any changes we should make? we would love to hear how this guide impacted your system!

[jilixthinker]

sweet taster

=͟͟͞♡ minho × fem!reader

word count: 1.6K

content warning: smut, established relationship, sub!minho, cock play, kinda chubby (but not really) minho, a little bit of feederism if you squint, it's all very loving and sweet

a/c: i feel things about minho's imaginary soft tummy, that's it.

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

"That was definitively too much."

Your home smells like savory and sweet, the nice scent lingering in your living room like a warm blanket, and Minho groans in delight as he plops on the couch with his eyes closed, stress from the work beginning to melt away. He loves when he comes home to the smell of one of your cooking, it makes him feel spoiled and pampered.

The portion of bibimbap was more than generous, but what truly tested his stomach capacity were the three big slices of apple pie he gobbled down while you watched him with adoring eyes, fingers softly caressing his plush tighs.

Minho has a sweet tooth and you love cooking and baking for him, that is always been your love language. In addition to that, in the last year of your relationship you started to experiment in the kitchen with lots of different baking recipies, and your loving boyfriend has been your official taster since that.

You cook, he eats, and you look fondly at him while he savors your baked goods, making a series of cute tiny sounds of pleasure that leaves you cooing and pinching at his soft cheeks. That is how you would describe happiness.

"Are you full?" you ask, sitting next to him and immediately nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck.

Minho smiles and his arm circles your shoulder, bringing you closer to him. You nose at his sweater and he smells like candy, smells sweet and intrinsecally like home and Minho. “So full,” he chuckles, placing a wet kiss on the top of your head.

"I guess you don't have space for one last treat then..." you smile against his skin as your hand drops to his belly. It feels tensed and a little swollen because of all the food he ate, and you start to massage it slowly.

"Treat?" Minho's eyes get all round and you hear him sniffing at the air in search of a distinct odor that will make him understand what are you referring to.

"I tried baking some cream eclairs." you smile at him, pinching the soft pudge below his belly button between your thumb and pointer. It's so soft that you wanna eat him whole.

"Well, I guess I can make some space, then".

You sit up again just in time to catch a glimpse of Minho's tongue lapping at the corner of his mouth, pre-savoring the dessert, and you feel a familar warmth spreading through your body. He is just too cute, too precious, too sweet to be yours.

"Let me get it for you. Wanna feed you." You smile as you stand up and head to the kitchen, the platter of creamy sweets ready in the oven.

When you come back, Minho is waiting for you with big pleading eyes, eager to taste the product of your baking. You place the plate on a cushion next to him, but instead of sitting down on the couch, you find your place on his lap, straddling his soft yet muscular thighs.

"Open wide." you say, taking one eclair in your hand and bringing it to Minho's mouth. You tap him under his chin and his mouth falls open easily.

Keeping eye contact, Minho leans forward to take a big bite, chewing slowly to let the flavor really envelop his senses. The lemon cream is sweet and warm, and it melts in his mouth.

You stare at him, pushing the eclair back to his lips when Minho is done chewing, inviting him to take another bite. With a loud gulp, Minho opens up again, and his tongue swirls against your thumb.

"How does it taste?" you ask while you brush a few crumbs from his lips.

Minho swallows the last bit of the eclair and the tip of his tongue laps at his plump lips once again. "Tastes amazing." he puffs out, his breath smells exactly like the cream.

"Want another?" you ask, taking the second one on your hand without even waiting for his answer.

"I am very full, baby." he mumbles, arm falling down to rest on the top of his stretched tummy. "I don't know if I can fit another one. But they taste like heaven."

"Just one more." you murmur as you leave a small peck on the corner of Minho's mouth, licking a bit of sugar away. "You look so cute when you eat. Please, just one more."

Minho sighs, his tummy is stretched and slighly uncomfortable, but saliva begins to pool inside his mouth as a pavlovian response to the thought of the sweet taste. "Just one more." he conceeds.

You hum and bring the pastry in front of his mouth. Minho diligently parts his lips once again and accepts the eclair. Crumbs are all over his shirt and pants, and there are cream smudges all around his pretty red mouth, even stuck between his teeth.

"So gorgeous for me." you whisper as your hips buck involuntarily against Minho's groin. And then you notice that you are not the only one enjoying this.

"You're hard, uh?" you ask with a chuckle, lowering your hand to cup him through his sweats and squeezing him lightly. Minho hisses and you rub his protruding stomach, feeling the soft skin under the fabric.

Minho finishes swallowing and breathes a sigh of relief as he hears you lowering the band of his sweats. “Yeah. It was sweet,” he huffs. "You are sweet. Got me all hard."

You take the opportunity to remove his pants completely to gain easy access to fondle him through his briefs in the process. Minho's breath is is soft and tender, and he smells amazing, all sugary and pretty for you.

"Wanna touch you. Can I, baby?" you ask, finding a comfortable position on the floor, between his parted legs.

The room is warm, but Minho's legs are tensed and his thin hair are fluffy. You caress them and massage the muscles underneath, and you see his fattened cock twitching against his groin. You see a few pearls of precum glistening on the chubby tip, and you wonder if his release would taste like cream if you fed him enough sweets. The thought is enough to rub your legs together, your panties are already sticking to your folds. But this is for Minho, you think.

"You can do anything you want to me." he murmurs, eyes almost closing and head resting on the cushions behind him.

You smile and you scoot forward to wrap one hand around his cock, squeezing it. His swollen cock immediately chubs up even more and wets the fabric of the sweatshirt. The cockhead looks all sensitive, and you tentatively circle the palm of your other hand around it, coaxing a sweet moan out of Minho's lips.

"My sweet, sweet boy." you coo, starting a lazy rhythm of stroking and circling, stopping just to stimulate his spongy head every once in a while. "You are so sweet that I wanna eat you up."

Minho's chuckles breathily and lets out a soft sob as his thighs begin to shake.

"Am I your dessert?" he asks, looking down at you with big eyes and still a few crumbs of eclair on the corner of his mouth. He mindlessly licks them off.

"You so are, pretty. You are my candy, my cake, my chocolate milk." you answer, sliding your thumb against his slit and making him whine slowly. "And I really need to eat you. I am serious."

You lower your head past his leaky cock to brush your cheek against the soft pudge under Minho's belly button. And then you bite him.

The tender flesh is warm and squishy, and the taste of Minho's skin, together with the cream scent still lingering in the air makes you moan against him.

"F-fuck, baby." he mutters, and you feel his cock throbbing in your fist.

With the tip of your tongue you lick at the velvety scar across his lower stomach and then you twirl it inside of his belly button, mimicking the way he usually fucks himself into you. He whines at the movement and his body twitches again.

"Love you." you whisper, keeping your grip steady on him. "Love how soft you get for me. How sweet. Love when you eat well and you look like this. You are so delicious, Mimo."

You keep biting softly at the fluffy fat of his pudge, savoring its taste and jerking him slowly, letting the schlick sound of his wet cock resonate through the room. Minho is pliant under your touch and his eyes are glassy.

"Uhm – I am. I-I am cumming, baby. Sorry." he moans when your finger dips a little into his slit.

"Don't be sorry, honey. You wanna cum?" you ask with a loving tone while your hand slides smoothly on his aching muscle. "Wanna cream on me like the sweet pastry you are? You can, pretty baby. Let it all go for me."

And Minho obeys, as he always does. With one last pump he begins to shoot thick ropes of creamy cum all over your hand and his round belly, covering his pale skin with glossy spurts that accumulate on the curve just above his ribcage.

When he is done, you lap at some of his release and it actually tastes sweet. It could be your imagination or just the fact that you are aroused, but you swear you can taste some of the cream on his orgasm.

"Wow." he puffs, hand covering his eyes in a shy attempt to hide himself. "That was... something."

You chuckle and kiss his tummy one last time before looking up to his face. "Then you will not be surprised when I'll tell you I baked more, right?"

Minho's face blushes to an adorable shade of pink. "Maybe... m-maybe I can eat one more".

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[grunckle]

Qualia and Ascension in Rain World

(To clarify I'm mostly talking about base-game lore and not including Downpour, but honestly most of these things can transfer over)

Qualia

One thing that’s relatively hidden in Rain World’s text and subtext is the concept of qualia. Qualia is described as being, “sensory experiences that have distinctive subjective qualities but lack any meaning or external reference to the objects or events that cause them.” It’s a personal sensory experience that cannot be comprehended by another person other than the individual themself, and are often hard to convey via language.

Qualia is a reoccurring motif in Rain World, but what’s more important is the way in which it’s conveyed to the player. The picture that’s painted is that of a world or civilization that placed a great importance on the individuals’ experience, and it’s shown through pearls or environmental details.

Here are some examples of qualia appearing in the text through pearls.

“It's qualia, or a moment - a very short one. Someone is holding a black stone, and twisting it slightly as they drag their finger across the rough surface. The entire sequence is shorter than a heartbeat, but the resolution is extraordinary.”

“A memory... but not really visual, or even concrete, in its character. It reminds of the feeling of a warm wind, but not the physical feeling but the... inner feeling. I don't think it has much utility unless you are doing some very fringe Regeneraist research.”

“This one... is authored by Five Pebbles, when he was young. There has been an attempt to scramble the data, but it's sloppily done, and most is still somewhat legible. It's written in internal language, or thoughts, so it is hard for me to translate so you would understand.”

But the most prominent examples of qualia and it’s importance in this world are the Memory Crypts and possibly ancient naming conventions. The deep purple pearl (shortened) found in Shaded Citadel states,

“In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids (…) Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane. The assorted memories and qualia include:”

Ancients likely mutated their own neural tissue into the cabinet beasts we see in Shaded, which were used to store their memories and qualia before ascension. Even james said once "how 5 pebs got the rot is a good hint here" in response to someone asking how cabinet beasts work, and how they're made.

Adding on to this, ancient (and iterator) naming conventions seem to be built off of the concept of qualia, with them focusing on individual images or experiences.

Nineteen Spades, Endless Reflections

Droplets upon Five Large Droplets

Two Sprouts, Twelve Brackets

Looks to the Moon

Generally, this all points to a world focused on the expression and preservation of the individual experience. You could even consider some of the echo dialogue as more evidence for this running motif, but I already have too many quotes lol.

Ascension

So now time to talk about my interpretation of ascension. In short, you turn into a worm, but I should probably explain more than that.

So its been surfacing on rw-tumblr that the light in the end of the game is called the egg in files. Although file names shouldn't be taken as fact or canon, it is pretty obvious given the birth imagery.

But something a little lesser known is what happens to the worm that takes us down to the void-sea depths. Void worms normally have a bright glowing effect, on their body, which is present for ours as well. But after it unhooks us, it swims down, and when it passes us on it's way back that glowing effect is gone.

To be honest, I don't really think this can be interpreted in many ways, but the most obvious one and the one I personally subscribe to is that the worm laid the egg. Biology and spirituality really aren't that different in Rain World, it's implied that karma is stored in the brain through Five Pebbles's slideshow. Adding on to that, we see voidspawn after eating an iterator neuron. One's spiritual state is innately tied to their mental state, and that dictates what and what they can't perceive.

And for that reason I decide to take a more biology leaning approach to what happens in the ending. At face value, we are fertilizing the egg of a void worm to be reborn into a voidspawn.

Not only do void spawn and void worms have multiple characteristics in common, (worm like bodies, tendrils/tentacles, glowing heads, void spawn look microbial and void worms are likely some of the oldest "life" in game)

but voidspawn are seen inside egg-like coverings and share the same egg light seen in the end of the game, confirmed to be the same thing by Videocult in a livestream they did.

I believe that all this points to ascension being re-birth into a voidspawn, which eventually undergoes metamorphose into a worm. Higher-dimensional beings, who manifest and give birth to a new world.

So how does this tie in with qualia? Another thing you might know is that the area in which void spawn are most plentiful is Shaded Citadel and areas in Shoreline near Shaded. And shaded is absolutely packed with Cabinet Beasts, even outside Memory Crypts. I believe these qualia-storing creatures are what manifest voidspawn.

From what we see in ascension, it still looks physical and largely based around the real world. Hunter still has his scars and see's an iterator, survivor sees the slug tree in a more mystical and formless state, and monk sees survivor frankly just looking like a normal slugcat. I think that ascension is a product of qualia. We transcend our earthly knowledge via the egg, and our own qualia is used to give birth to a new world. This is why voidspawn appear most in Shaded Citadel.

Now I won't be getting into Void-Worm theories too much here, I'm mostly focused on ascension but I can't ignore the Gnosticism parallels. For those who don't know, Void Worms heavily resemble the Yaldaboath from Gnosticism, along with sharing some similar celestial motifs.

and running with that some people theorize that, like the Yaldabaoth, void worms are responsible for manifesting the material world. Ascension seems to be a mix of the concepts of Gnosis and Nirvana, but I believe it might lean more on Gnosis.

From my limited knowledge, Gnosis is a few things, some of which being a state achieved from experiences or intuitions, and an essential part to salvation is personal knowledge. While researching a bit, I came across this text by Peter Wilberg called "From NEW AGE to NEW GNOSIS" which brings up some comparisons between Gnosticism and qualia as well.

"Gnosis is subjective knowledge of an inner universe made up not of matter, energy, space or time but of countless qualitative spheres or ‘planes’ of awareness – a knowledge obtained directly through inter- subjective resonance. It is the subjective science of this inner universe."

One thing though that has been brought up when discussing this is how this can be consolidated with the tone of the ending. It is pretty un-ambiguously happy, but if we're going with the Void worm Yaldaboath theory then that would put a bit of a sour twist on it right?

I agreed with these for some time, but now I actually think it ties in perfectly with Rain World's core themes as stated by the devs, "overcoming differences and finding empathy." I don't think the void worms are "evil" or malevolent, but I think they (and subsequently us after ascending) play a key role in demonstrating this theme.

By manifesting the physical world, we allow these souls to experience life and develop their own qualia so one day they can ascend themselves. We are shown compassion, and pass it forward.

[bookwormangie]

Harry and Snape’s Clashing Communication Styles

It's interesting to think that Harry and Snape don’t have longer conversations in the series, but when they do, their communication styles are so different that they often clash.

Harry’s way of communicating is practical and straightforward. He tends to break down complex ideas into simpler terms that he can easily understand. This makes sense, given his upbringing in a non-magical world and his tendency to rely more on gut instinct than deep theoretical knowledge. For Harry, things are usually black and white, and his directness shows his desire to cut through the confusion and get straight to the point.

Snape, on the other hand, has a more complex and layered way of speaking. His language is precise and often sarcastic, which reflects not just his intelligence but also his disdain for what he sees as Harry’s lack of subtlety. Snape’s use of imagery and metaphor, especially when he describes consepts, gives his speech a poetic, almost philosophical quality. He takes pleasure in showing off his superior knowledge and uses this as a way to belittle Harry.

We see this clash clearly in OOTP during Harry’s first Occlumency lesson:

Snape looked back at him for a moment and then said contemptuously, “Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency —” “What’s that? Sir?” “It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person’s mind —” “He can read minds?” said Harry quickly, his worst fears confirmed. “You have no subtlety, Potter,” said Snape, his dark eyes glittering. “You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker.” Snape paused for a moment, apparently to savor the pleasure of insulting Harry, before continuing, “Only Muggles talk of ‘mind reading.’ The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter . . . or at least, most minds are. . . .” He smirked. Whatever Snape said, Legilimency sounded like mind reading to Harry and he did not like the sound of it at all.

For Harry, when Snape mentions Legilimency, it immediately sounds like “mind reading,” which is a reasonable but overly simple way to understand such a complex concept. His quick jump to this conclusion shows his need to make sense of something that feels threatening, but it also reveals his limited grasp of the deeper nuances.

Snape, however, can’t resist mocking Harry’s lack of subtlety. His response is laced with condescension as he insists on the complexity of the mind and dismisses the idea of “mind reading” as something only muggles would think of. Snape’s explanation is detailed and philosophical, contrasting sharply with Harry’s desire for a straightforward answer.

Another great example of their different communication styles comes in HBP when Snape puts Harry on the spot, asking him to explain the difference between an inferius and a ghost:

“Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost.” The whole class looked around at Harry, who hastily tried to recall what Dumbledore had told him the night that they had gone to visit Slughorn. “Er — well — ghosts are transparent —” he said. “Oh, very good,” interrupted Snape, his lip curling. “Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. ‘Ghosts are transparent.’ ” Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though his insides were boiling, “Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren’t they? So they’d be solid —” “A five-year-old could have told us as much,” sneered Snape. “The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard’s spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard’s bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth . . . and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent.” “Well, what Harry said is the most useful if we’re trying to tell them apart!” said Ron. “When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we’re going to be having a shufti to see if it’s solid, aren’t we, we’re not going to be asking, ‘Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?’

Once again, Harry demonstrates his practical and straightforward approach. He gives a simple, clear distinction based on what would be most useful in a real-life situation—whether the entity is solid or transparent. This shows how Harry tends to focus on what’s immediately relevant and actionable, and Ron’s defense of Harry’s answer highlights this practicality. Ron even points out that in a real-world scenario, Harry’s answer is actually the most helpful, contrasting it with Snape’s more academic approach.

Snape, though, dismisses Harry’s answer as too simplistic and mocks him for stating what he sees as the obvious. Snape’s communication is more about the theoretical and precise understanding of magical concepts. He emphasizes the deeper, more complex nature of an Inferius, which, while academically accurate, is less practical in the context that Harry is thinking of. Snape’s disdain shows that he values this deeper, nuanced understanding more than the direct, practical knowledge that Harry offers.

These moments really bring out the deeper divide between Harry and Snape. Harry approaches things with instinct and a straightforward mindset, while Snape is all about nuance, precision, and seeing the layers in everything. Because they see the world so differently, they struggle to communicate, which only adds to the distrust and misunderstanding between them—a tension that echoes throughout the entire series.

[springtyme]

farleigh start x f!reader

make it based on the party scene where he sniffs the “nose candy” off the girls hand

PLS THE FARLEIGH GIRLS ARE STARVING😫

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 ♡

Thank you for the request ♡ I know you didn’t asked for smut per se, but I got a little carried away. I hope that’s okay, and hopefully can help feed the Farleigh girls a little ♡

Farleigh Start x afab!reader || Masterlist || Farleigh playlist

summary: You can’t help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions as you stand before him. Part of you wants to turn around and walk away, to avoid the inevitable clash that always seems to occur when the two of you are in the same vicinity. But another part of you, a part that you try to keep buried deep within, is drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

word count: 4.5k

warning/tags: smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Drug use (cocaine). Vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, blowjob, cum swallowing. Enemies to lovers (kinda?). I had pan4bi in mind when I wrote this, but readers sexually didn’t really end up getting mentioned, but Farleigh is definitely pan/queer like in canon. This whole thing kinda started out as one thing but turned into something completely different, so just to clear any possible confusion. Reader is best friends with Venetia, being childhood friends with her and Felix, and that is how she knows Fairleigh. Reader is enrolled in a university in Cambridge, unlike Fairleigh who is in Oxford. No proofreading.

The dimly lit room is illuminated by a dazzling array of colourful lights, flickering and dancing in sync with the music. The deep reverberations of the bass are sending tremors through your body, a pulsating rhythm thumping within your chest, and even piercing your eardrums, but in the best way possible. 

The scent of spilled drinks and way too expensive perfumes and colognes are hanging in the air, mixing with the distinct smell of sweat that, no matter what, or no matter how rich you are, you’ll never be able to avoid when this many people are in one place, drinking and dancing at once. It’s filling the space with a raw, primal energy, an energy which you can feel resonate within you, right into the very marrow of your bones. 

You find yourself surrendering to the music, letting it guide your every movement as you roll your hips to the beat, grinding against the solid body behind you, enjoying the feeling of big strong hands on your waist. You don’t know his name and you like it that way. You’ve been needing this, it’s finally summer, you’re finally on break and away from Cambridge and you have every intent of enjoying it to the fullest. 

As you let yourself be carried away by the music and the pulsating energy of the room, your eyes wander around the crowd. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your gaze meets the eyes of someone familiar, someone you had hoped to avoid, despite knowing it wouldn’t be possible. 

As your gaze locks with his, a mix of emotions floods through you. A wave of annoyance washes over you, quickly followed by a surge of frustration. 

Fucking Farleigh, the embodiment of everything you despise, stands across the room, his tall frame towering over the crowd. He’s always been a thorn in your side, pushing your buttons and challenging you at every turn. The tension between you has always been palpable, a constant battle of wits and wills.

The memories of countless arguments and bitter exchanges flood your mind, reminding you of all the reasons why you can’t stand him. Farleigh, with his arrogant smirk, like he always knows something that you don’t know, and his condescending remarks, has always managed to get under your skin. And now, here he is, invading your sanctuary of escape. 

And yet, and this is something you would never admit out loud to anyone, you have always felt strangely drawn to him, a magnetic pull that you’ve never been able to fully understand. A complicated connection, really, filled with both desire and deep annoyance.

You tear your eyes away, trying to regain your composure and ignore the magnetic pull drawing you towards him. You focus your attention back on the music, trying to lose yourself in its enchanting melody and forget about Farleigh’s presence. The pulsating beats and the heat of the body pressing against yours conspire to distract you, urging you to let go and revel in the moment. You move with more intensity, swaying your hips and allowing your body to glide effortlessly with the rhythm.

But despite your attempts to ignore him, Farleigh’s image persists in your mind, and it is as if you can feel his piercing eyes on you, burning your skin. The curiosity battles with your annoyance, leaving you conflicted and uncertain.

As the music reaches a crescendo, you can’t resist the pull any longer. With a mix of defiance and determination, you break away from the stranger behind you, making your way through the crowd in Farleigh’s direction. Not because you want to speak to him, of course not, you just want to find Venetia, Farleigh just happens to stand right next to the door.  

As you approach Farleigh, you can’t help but notice the way his eyes follow your every move. A flicker of amusement dances in his gaze, as if he knows the effect he has on you. Just as you’re about to pass him, Farleigh steps in front of you, a sly smile playing on his lips, the strobe lights flickering across his face, highlighting his features with pink and purple, and you feel how a warm flutter swoops through your stomach. Someone who is that annoying really don’t have any business being that handsome. 

You try to step past him, but he moves with a frustrating grace, blocking your path once more. “What do you want, Farleigh?” you huff, your tone laced with impatience. 

But he doesn’t answer you at first, instead, he just keeps the weird little dance going, with you trying to push past him to get through the door, and him stepping in front of you, blocking your way, until you finally take a step back, glaring up at him and you can’t help but feel a rush of conflicting emotions as you stand before him like this. 

Part of you wants to turn around and walk away, to avoid the inevitable clash that always seems to occur when the two of you are in the same vicinity. But another part of you, a part that you try to keep buried deep within, is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and it fucking frustarites you.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is a low, velvety whisper that resonates deep within your core. “Long time no see,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The scent of his cologne invades your senses, stirring up a confusing mixture of attraction and deep irritation. 

With a deep breath, you muster up all the strength you have and respond, trying to match his nonchalant tone. “I was actually hoping to keep it that way,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Farleigh’s smirk widens slightly, and you can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Well, that I find a little hard to believe. We are in my house, aren’t we?” he remarks, leaning in closer, his voice dripping with a hint of sarcasm.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, knowing that it would only fuel his satisfaction. Instead, you take a moment to study him. His sharp features are highlighted by the colourful lights surrounding you. Despite your frustration with him, there’s no denying that he has a certain magnetism that draws people in. “I wouldn’t exactly say it’s your house.” You retort, raising an eyebrow. “More like uncle’s house, isn’t it?”

Farleigh chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Touché,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “But you can’t deny that it’s my domain.”

You scoff, unable to resist a small smirk. “Domain? More like your little playground.”

His eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of challenge in his gaze. “Funny, because I always thought you were the one who loved a good game.”

The air between you crackles with tension, the familiar dance of wit and banter that has always characterised your interactions. Despite your annoyance with Farleigh, there’s a part of you that thrives on the exhilaration of this verbal sparring. “Maybe I do, but I have no interest in playing with you.”

Farleigh’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a look of genuine curiosity. “No interest at all?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of intrigue. “I find that hard to believe. You’ve always seemed to enjoy our little tête-à-têtes.”

You resist the urge to let your guard down, refusing to let him see how much his words affect you. “Just because I enjoy a challenge doesn’t mean I enjoy dealing with you,” you reply, your tone sharp and dismissive.

Farleigh’s gaze intensifies, his eyes searching yours as if trying to uncover a hidden truth. “Is that so?” he says, his voice low and velvety. “Because I have a feeling there’s more to it than that. I think you actually enjoy the tension between us, the push and pull.”

You scoff, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that his words are hitting too close to home. “You think too highly of yourself,” you retort, attempting to sound unaffected by his observation.

Farleigh takes a step closer, his presence seeming to fill the space between you. “Maybe,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I also think you’re intrigued by me. Admit it, there’s a part of you that wants to know what it would be like to give in to that pull.”

Your heart races at his words, a mixture of anger and desire swirling within you. “You’re delusional,” you snap, your voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Farleigh’s expression softens, his eyes searching yours with a newfound tenderness. “Am I?” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. The intensity of his gaze leaves you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to make sense of the conflicting emotions coursing through you. You’ve spent so long trying to resist him, to keep him at a distance, but now, in this moment, it feels impossible to deny the undeniable connection between you.

Farleigh leans in closer, his breath warming your ear as he speaks. “You can pretend all you want, but I see right through you.” His voice is laced with a mixture of confidence and mystery that sends a shiver down your spine. Suddenly, all the people around you disappear, the only thing that matters in that moment is the charged tension between you and Farleigh. It’s as if you’re existing in a world of your own, completely detached from reality.

You can’t resist the pull any longer. “Oh, can you now..?” You murmur, slowly, you reach out your hand to wipe a stray piece of glitter away from under his eye, letting your thumb gently graze his cheek. His eyes darken with a mix of surprise and anticipation, his lips parting slightly as if attempting to say something. But before a single word can escape, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his in a passionate, desperate kiss. 

Everything around you fades away as the electricity between you ignites, the world falling away as you become enraptured by the intensity of the moment. All the pent-up frustration and desire explode in that single act of surrender and defiance.

In this moment, you can no longer deny the complicated connection that exists between you. The magnetic pull, the mix of desire and annoyance, it all becomes clearer as you lose yourself in the kiss. The room around you becomes a blur, the music and the crowd transformed into mere background noise.

The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless and gasping for air, but the connection remains. You meet Farleigh’s gaze, a smouldering fire burning in his eyes. And in that silent exchange, the tension and chemistry between you cannot be ignored any longer. 

Farleigh’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire.

You raise an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and defiance in your expression. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you retort, trying to regain your composure. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

Farleigh’s smile widens, and he takes a step closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Oh, it means something, alright,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a tantalising promise. 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, a rush of anticipation flooding through you. As much as you want to deny it, there’s a part of you that craves the excitement and intensity that comes with being with Farleigh. You know it won’t be easy, and there will be challenges along the way, but you can’t help but be drawn to him.

With a mix of determination and vulnerability, you lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Fine, it does mean something,” you whisper, your voice filled with both defiance and longing. As the words escape your lips, you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. The intensity between you and Farleigh has reached its breaking point, and you both know it. Without saying a word, you take Farleigh’s hand and lead him out of the room and through the big, crowded house searching for a place of solitude, finally finding it in the form of an unoccupied bathroom on the second floor. 

The sounds of the party fade into the background as you step inside, the quietness amplifying the intensity of the moment. Farleigh takes a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and filled with a mix of concern and desire.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty and longing. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to find out.” 

Farleigh’s lips curl into a knowing smile, the fiery desire in his eyes never wavering. He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you, his hand inching up to gently cup your cheek. You can feel the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, electrifying every nerve in your body.

In that moment, any last doubt or hesitation you might have felt fades away as the intense pull between you becomes undeniable. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost in the moment. His thumb caresses your cheek, and his voice, filled with a mixture of longing and assurance, whispers, “I’ll make it worth it.”

A surge of anticipation courses through your veins as Farleigh’s thumb brushes against your lips, tracing their outline with a delicate touch. Without even thinking, your own hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. The air around you is heavy with desire and expectation.

As your lips collide once again, the passion between you ignites, consuming you both in a fiery haze. The bathroom echoes with the rapid beating of your hearts and the soft gasps that escape your lips. Farleigh’s kiss is both tender and intense, his lips moving against yours with a fervour that matches your own. This single act of surrender has unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, leaving you craving more. 

You start to walk backwards, until your back gently bumps into the vanity cabinet of the sink, without breaking the kiss even once. You first break the kiss as Farleigh’s hands find your hips, helping you jump up the counter. Your already short dress, hiking even higher up your thigh as you spread your legs to let him step in between them. “You got any nose candy?” you pant, making Farleigh chuckle, his breath warm against your lips as he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer, don’t you?” he replies, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and desire. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small vial of white powder and setting it on the counter.

He carefully measures out a small amount of the powder, offering it to you on the back of his hand. You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of nerves mixed with excitement. With only a very short flicker of hesitation, you lean in, snorting the powder through your nose. The effects are immediate, a surge of warmth and euphoria washing over you.

Farleigh takes your hand, putting the vial to it to make a line for himself, but you stop him before any of the coke has left the container. “No, here.” You say, placing your hand behind you on the counter and leaning back, exposing your bare collarbone, inviting him to snort the line off your skin. Farleigh’s eyes widen, clearly liking your suggestion, his gaze locked on the vulnerable expanse of your skin before a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, lining up a stripe for himself.   

As he leans in, his breath tickles your skin. His fingers, delicate and precise, trace the line of the cocaine on your collarbone before he leans down, his lips brushing against your skin as he inhales the white powder. A shiver races through your body at the touch of his lips against your sensitive skin, the combination of the drug’s rush and Farleigh’s proximity sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You both linger in this moment, caught between desire and the heightened state induced by the substance. Everything in the bathroom seems to fade away as you focus on the connection between you and Farleigh - the electric current that flows between your bodies, the shared need for a temporary escape. Farleigh pulls back, his eyes dark and heavy with desire as he locks his gaze with yours. 

“Come here,” you all but moan, making him chuckle. The lingering scent of his luxurious cologne fills the air, prompting you to inch closer on the countertop, savouring every breath of him. You reach out, pulling Farleigh closer as you crash your lips together once more, the kiss growing even more passionate and heated than before. And as the kiss deepens even more, Farleigh’s hands start to explore your body, one trailing up your thigh while the other gently cups your cheek. Your own hands roam eagerly over his frame, feeling the heat and power emanating from him.

The bathroom becomes a blur of sensations, the feel of his hands on you, the taste of his lips on yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne surrounding you. Time seems to lose all meaning as you lose yourself in the moment, giving in to the intoxicating combination of pleasure and desire. As he finally breaks the kiss, his lips trail a path down your neck, leaving a trail of sweet kisses in their wake. The heat between you builds with each passing moment, every touch and caress leaving you craving for more.

As Farleigh’s lips find their way to the sensitive curve of your collarbone, you let out a soft gasp, a jolt of pleasure shooting through your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. His hands roam over your thigh, inching higher and higher, until he reaches the delicate fabric of your now soaked panties, carefully teasing and brushing against your most sensitive area. Your breath hitches in anticipation as his touch sends a surge of arousal coursing through you.

Unable to contain your desire any longer, you guide his hand to where you need him most, sliding your panties to the side. His fingers waste no time in exploring, gently parting your slick folds and finding your throbbing clit. Soft moans escape your lips as he circles his fingers around your sensitive bud, the pleasure building with every stroke. “Damn, you’re so wet,” he whispers huskily, his voice laced with desire. His fingers skillfully dance along your swollen nub, expertly coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. 

The bathroom becomes a sanctuary of pleasure and intimacy as Farleigh expertly works his fingers, gradually increasing the rhythm and pressure. You tilt your head back, surrendering yourself completely to the ecstasy flooding your senses. You arch your back, pressing yourself closer to his hand, eager for more. The need for release consumes you, the overwhelming sensation heightening with each passing second. Farleigh, ever attuned to your desires, gives you exactly what you crave. His fingers quicken their pace, increasing the pressure against your throbbing clit, using his other hand to push, first one, then two, fingers into your craving cunt, pumping into you, while still working your clit. 

Lost in the blissful haze, you feel your walls tighten around his fingers, signalling your imminent release. Every touch becomes electrifying as you chase that elusive peak. And when the wave of pleasure crashes over you, it’s all-consuming. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your moans echoing off the bathroom walls. 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he whispers, his voice raw with desire as he continues to ride out your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure with his skilled fingers. He keeps his touch steady and relentless, expertly drawing out every ounce of bliss from your pulsing core. It’s a relentless dance of pleasure and sensation, leaving you gasping for breath as the ecstasy courses through your veins.

Farleigh withdraws his fingers, the absence of his touch leaves you yearning for more. He brings them to his mouth sucking off your juices. “Fuck… you taste good, I think I need to get a better taste, baby” he smirks. 

“Please, Farleigh,” you hate that you’re begging, but fuck how you need more of him. “N-need more…” you squirm a little in your seat, squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. Farleigh smirks again, unlike you he is clearly very glad to hear how pleading and desperate you are for him. 

He sinks to his knees before you and slowly pulls your soaked panties down your legs, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable before him all the while keeping eye contact with you. Without a word, he leans in, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. His lips brush against your inner thighs, teasingly light and gentle, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. As his mouth moves closer to your throbbing core, you grip the edge of the counter, desperately trying to steady yourself. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable, the teasing kisses and licks making you ache for more. Finally, his lips press against your clit, his tongue immediately finding its rhythm as he expertly swirls and flicks, drawing moans of pleasure from deep within you. Each flick of his tongue sends shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, building the pleasure to dizzying heights. He alternates between delicate licks and sucking motions, knowing exactly how to drive you wild. The sensation is overwhelming, and you lose yourself in a haze of pleasure. 

The sounds of your moans fill the room, your pleasure echoing off the walls. You can feel the pressure building inside you, your climax approaching rapidly. And just when you think you can’t hold on any longer, the dam breaks, and you surrender to the powerful waves of your orgasm. Stars explode behind your closed eyelids as your body convulses with pleasure, your voice reaching heights you didn’t know were possible. 

Farleigh doesn’t let up, continuing to lap at your sensitive clit, prolonging your ecstasy until you’re completely spent. As the waves of pleasure subside, he pulls away, a satisfied grin on his face as he looks up at you, his lips glistening with your essence. You struggle to catch your breath, your entire body still trembling from the intensity of your release as Farleigh gets up from the floor. You close your eyes for a second, as you take in the reality you’re living in now, a reality where you have been eaten out by Farleigh fucking Start, and now in this moment you almost can’t recall why you ever disliked him.  

As your body slowly comes down from the heights of pleasure, you open your eyes again, breathing heavily, to find Farleigh staring at you with hunger in his eyes. His own desire is evident, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Reaching out, you grab hold of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Your turn,” you say, your voice vibrating with anticipation.

A mischievous smile plays on his lips as he realises what you have in mind. Without a word, he unbuttons his shirt, revealing a toned chest. He shrugs off his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor as he confidently steps out of his shoes. Every movement he makes is deliberate, a display of raw sensuality that only intensifies your desire for him.

With a mixture of excitement and confidence, you jump down from the counter and step toward Farleigh, your legs feel like jelly, but you don’t let that stop you. Your hands find their way to the waistband of his trousers, fingers skillfully unfastening them. As his trousers pool at his feet, you run your hands up his muscular thighs, feeling the contours of his body beneath your touch.

Your gaze flickers upward, locking eyes with Farleigh, the intensity in his gaze mirrored in your own. Without breaking eye contact, you drop to your knees, fully engulfed in the moment. You trail kisses along his inner thighs, teasing and taunting him. His breath hitching with every kiss, the anticipation in the room building with each passing moment.

As you reach his hardened cock, you wrap your fingers around him, feeling his heat and the pulsing desire that emanates from him. He is big; girthy, with a nice vein lining the underside of his shaft. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, eliciting a low growl from his throat, before you pool spit in your mouth, letting it fall from your mouth and down his shaft. With a combination of skill and eagerness, your mouth encloses around him, the heat and wetness enveloping him. 

As your lips slide up and down his length, you can feel him growing even harder, his breaths becoming more ragged. You use your hand in synchronisation with your mouth, working him tirelessly, determined to bring him to the brink of release, moaning around his cock while breathy praises leaves his mouth.

The bathroom becomes a symphony of moans and heavy breaths as the pleasure builds between you. Your lips and tongue work magic, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. And when he finally succumbs to the overwhelming ecstasy, he spills himself into your waiting mouth, his moans of pleasure echoing off the bathroom walls.

You take him in, savouring the taste of him as his release warms your mouth as you swallow him up. It’s an act of trust and vulnerability, something you, just an hour ago, could never have imagined to be between the two of you. As he finally catches his breath, his hands gently lift your chin, guiding you back to your feet.

Your eyes meet, a shared understanding passing between you. “You know, uh…” you start, Taking in a deep breath. “Venetia asked me to stay for a bit, I’ll be here at Saltburn for the next two weeks.” you whisper, letting the implication of your words hang in the air for a moment.

Farleigh’s eyes widen with surprise, a mixture of excitement and hope flickering in his gaze. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your cheek. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can see the longing in his eyes.

“Two weeks?” he repeats, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and anticipation. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You smile, a mix of mischief and desire in your gaze. “I’m saying that we have two weeks to explore this... connection between us,” you reply, your voice filled with a tantalising promise. “But let’s make one thing clear, Farleigh. This doesn’t mean that I like you now,” and you hate how it isn’t really true. 

Farleigh’s smile widens as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I guess I have two weeks to change that.”

Thank you for reading! If you want, please leave a comment or reblog to let me know what you thought of it ♡

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

hi!!! I was just thinking of your amazing trash drake fic, and I was wondering if you had any headcanons for Tim’s “trash” identity?

Just little or big things that separate him from Tim, like mannerisms or how he acts?

AHHH YES- SO MANY HOLY FUCK- Okay okay SO-

Body language wise-

Tim closes his eyes when he laughs, Timothy doesn't

Tim grabs at his hair when stressed, Timothy grabs at his clothes

Tim maybe accepts affection but rarely asks for it, Timothy is a hugger or pat on the shoulder kinda guy (handshakes/hand kiss at the very least are a MUST)

Tim smacks his lips, Timothy sneers

Tim is always at least a little slouched, Timothy has perfect posture

Tim smirks, Timothy shows all his teeth

Tim goes for a fist bump, Timothy prefers high five

Preferences-

Timothy wears gold, Tim prefers silver

Timothy is always wearing jewelry, Tim hates anything more than some earrings.

Timothy adores opera, Tim is a basic fan- but prefers photography

Timothy likes layers and buttons, Tim prefers loose and slip on

Timothy loves Sushi, Tim cant stand anything that isn't a california roll

Timothy prefers his coffee sweet, Tim prefers it just creamy

Skills-

Timothy knows Spanish, Arabic, and French, Tim knows WAYYY more- (including League dilect Arabic and Romani)

Timothy is a child prodigy in tech who graduated early then burned out, Tim is a literal genius and tech mastermind hasn't hit burnout yet tho

Timothy is amazing at chess, Tim fucking hates it but learned out of spite/nessesity

Timothy is charming and a good flirt, Tim has zero rizz for anyone that isn't "morosexual" (he's smart and a dumbass)

Timothy is pretty athletic, Tim has the kind of endurance that is so outrageously good its concerning (he is a persistance predator)

Timothys thumb is double jointed, Tim can fold himself in half

Timothy is useless in the kitchen, Tim can make basics by himself

Timothy doesn't know the first thing about mending?? Tim hand made his entire costume and has re-sewn half his wardrobe at least once

I made up half of these on the spot- but this is the general headcanon distinctions I have between them <33

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (7)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, loss of virginity, smut, angst, mention and description of rape, mention of trauma ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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He didn't know what made him follow her out then, after supper, when his father was carried back to his chamber. He felt fear, uncertainty and tension when he saw her leave without even giving him a single glance, as if what she had just said meant nothing to her.

My place is with you, uncle.

He drank with a deep gulp the remainder of the wine that was left in his goblet and put it down with a loud clink of steel, rising from his chair, avoiding the figure of his mother, who was saying something to him quickly, surely wanting to know how he could have done this to her.

He figured that the last time he had done something just for himself he had lost his eye, and that evening he was not going to lose anything else.

She didn't seem surprised that he had followed her out − she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder when she heard his footsteps.

He was trying to decide what he saw in her gaze, tired, sad, disappointed in him and the way he was acting, who he had become.

Still, it seemed to him that their unanimity at the table had reassured them both, that they had obviously proved something to each other.

Neither of them could end it.

He gulped, looking away from her, folding his hands behind his back.

"Your mother will return to the Red Keep in a few days at my mother's request. To discuss our nuptials." He said dispassionately, hoping she understood what he was trying to imply.

There was no need for her to return with them.

Since she wanted it so much, he could take his time with her, speak with her about whatever it was she had wanted over the years.

His expression that he was able to control his aggressive, violent nature.

She nodded and surprised him by moving ahead again, as if she didn't care what he had to say. He pressed his lips together, furious at himself for the desperation he felt, at the fact that part of him not only wanted to prove something to her, but feared that once she left, she would be gone forever.

"She stole you away from me then, but I won't let it happen this time. You are to stay. You'll return to Dragonstone in a few days, with her." He growled with pain, regret, dispassion, at the very thought of the memory of the night, the first in many months that he had spent alone, crying in despair, listening for when she would come to him.

It was obvious she would come to him, he thought then, trying to calm the convulsions that shook his body.

As soon as her mother was asleep she would slip out of her chamber again, as she always did, sneak up to him, embrace him and soothe his pain and fear.

He waited and listened for her footsteps, that distinctive, quiet creak of wood that always brought him relief.

But she didn't come, then or for many nights afterwards.

He saw her stop again and look at him surprised, as if she didn't believe those words had really left his mouth; something in her eyes had changed, her brow arched in pain.

She lowered her gaze, as if pondering his words, as if she had allowed them into her heart, and he thought in disbelief, trying to calm his breathing, that it had worked.

She hesitated.

She lifted her eyes to him and swallowed loudly, sighing quietly.

"I will stay, but only until my mother returns. Then I will travel back to Dragonstone with her and stay there until our nuptials." She said quietly, looking him straight in the eye.

"Yes. It will be appropriate." He replied at once, forcing himself to be indifferent, feeling his heart pounding hard, his body shuddering with satisfaction and contentment.

He thought with some kind of pride that she remained as she had been years ago, that she, unlike Aegon, could converse.

His brother understood only violence, only force; he could not count the number of times he had dragged him out of the brothels, the number of times he had had to hit him to revive him, the number of times he had yelled at him to make him come to his senses.

With his mother he didn't speak but prayed, with Helaena he didn't speak but stayed in her company, with his grandfather he didn't speak but exchanged dry facts.

He didn't speak with his father, because he hardly saw him.

He did speak with Criston, but he always told him what he wanted to hear.

She, however, understood perfectly the nuances and beauty of conversation, could explain what she herself felt, and could also listen to the other side, accept a sensible argument, take another opinion into consideration.

He thought with shame that he hadn't even noticed when he had become a brutal, silent stone that rammed everything in its path.

He let her go when she replied that she needed to ask her mother's permission and hid in the library, knowing that he had nothing to return to his chamber for.

He knew that his mother had certainly made sure that the guards at his and her door ensured that neither of them crossed the threshold of their quarters.

He sat down in the candlelight at one of the oak tables, taking earlier from the bookcase a book devoted to the complex grammar of the language of Old Valyria that he had been analysing and studying alone for several years, trying not to think about what had happened.

About how, despite what he tried to tell himself, the sight of her, her presence, her voice, her touch did not repulse him.

You desire me, but you're not in love with me.

He heard her words in his head and swallowed loudly, closing his eye, feeling a tightness in his throat, figuring that perhaps the few days they would spend together would calm the chaos in her and his head.

They had met years later at a time when things were happening that amplified his frustration, and although he was furious that Luke got what he wanted again, he promised himself that he wouldn't broach the subject with her.

That he would make an effort not to make things worse.

He shuddered when he heard the creak of the wooden door, and was surprised to find that he felt a warmth in his abdomen when she had in fact come to him, without any word or prior arrangement, as if she knew perfectly well that he would be waiting for her.

She looked around the hall, which she hadn't seen for years, walking slowly towards him, coming up to a bookcase filled to the brim with thick, slightly dusty volumes.

She smiled, pulling out with difficulty a large tome that had a leather, gold-decorated binding, which he recognised immediately, and watched silently as she moved towards him with The Great History of Aegon the Conqueror.

Memory after memory struck his mind as she placed the book in front of him, just to his right, exactly as it was then.

"What are you reading, uncle? Are you looking at our family tree again?" She asked lightly, and he felt a pleasant shudder, tightening his lips, hearing in her voice that she was teasing him, exactly as she had been then.

He crossed his legs and readjusted himself in his seat, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, at her figure and how much she had changed, at her breasts that just yesterday he were caressing with his hands.

"No." He replied lowly, unable to take his eyes off her chest encased in the material of her gown, her bare shoulders glistening in the candlelight.

She approached him, exactly as she had done then, leaning in so that their cheeks were right next to each other. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to pretend he didn't feel what was happening in his breeches, in his manhood which, with its intense throbbing, betrayed what he thought of her long, dark hair and lashes, her bright eyes, the scent of vanilla that filled his lungs again.

"The language of Old Valyria? I might have expected that from my future husband's love of our family's traditions." She said softly, as if with some kind of admiration, and he felt a pleasant shiver run along his spine when she called him her future husband.

He knew she was trying to soften his violent nature, to soothe and calm him, to say and do what he wanted.

"Will you teach me, uncle? I promise to be a diligent and attentive pupil." She said with a quiet click of her tongue, looking down at him, waiting for his reaction.

He knew she was taunting him, wanting him to break, to touch her first, to tell her his thoughts, his desires.

"Mmm." He hummed, turning the page, going back to reading again, trying not to think about the fact that his cock pulsed hard under the thick volume he held in his hands.

He heard her quiet sigh of disapproval, out of the corner of his eye he saw her push back the chair to his right and sit down on it, just as she had then, delving into the story of Aegon the Conqueror again.

He could feel the tension between them, knew they were fighting for dominance, for who would break first.

He pressed his lips together, feeling hundreds of questions rush to his tongue, unable to focus on what he was reading.

What was between her and Daemon?

Did she really believe what she had said at supper?

Did she forgive him, or did she want revenge on him for the years of silence on his part?

He was dismayed that he didn't know what he thought of it all himself, once feeling relieved, once anxious, still coming back to the same conclusion.

He didn't trust her.

He closed his eye, trying to calm himself, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

When he opened it, he met her familiar worried gaze, her eyebrows arched in concern, in a warm, characteristic willingness to understand him, to listen to him.

He felt a sense of discomfort when he realised that once he had felt he recognised her, that she was someone close to him, someone he desired so much, only to decide a moment later that she was a stranger, someone distant, someone different than she had been before.

"You and Daemon." He began, recognising that he could not avoid her if she was to become his wife, that he had to understand what was in her mind, who was the woman who sat at his side. "What's between you two?"

She blinked, looking at him with wide eyes, as if she didn't understand what he was asking her.

"What do you mean?" She asked softly, without any fear or discomfort that might betray that his question frightened her. He licked his lower lip, playing between his fingers with a page from the book lying on his thighs.

"You two are delightfully close." He stated coolly and noticed that she twitched, swallowing loudly, as if she only now realised what his imagination was suggesting.

"Not in this way. Gods, uncle, you're the first one who…" She stammered, they both averted their gazes, embarrassed; he could see out of the corner of his eye her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"And you?" She asked suddenly and this time he threw her a surprised look, frowning his eyebrows; she looked at him fearfully, as if she was afraid of his answer.

He turned away from her, breathing loudly through his nose, feeling his heart pound at the memory of the woman Aegon had taken him to when he was only thirteen, the discomfort and tightness in his throat, that cruel, dark, overpowering shame.

He didn't want to remember it, the touch of that shapely red-haired girl much older than he was, her hand clenched over what was hidden beneath his breeches, his feeling of terror, even though she was telling him to relax.

He didn't want it, he felt it was wrong, his beloved had never touched him in such a way, in such a place.

He felt his lips clench so tightly that they turned blue, so that a squeaky sound of despair did not come from his throat.

"Aegon took me to some whore when I was thirteen. Time to get it wet − he announced then." He said, forcing himself to be indifferent, trying to distance himself from those memories, from the images that flashed involuntarily before his eyes, her body climbing over him, her hands untying his breeches, her whisper with which she tried to soothe him before he began to mutter that he did not want this.

"Prince Aegon paid me for your fulfillment." She answered him then, before she sank down on top of him, forcing him to feel her warm walls; for some reason he felt like he was about to vomit, something akin to a whine escaping his lips.

Seeing his state, tears streaming down his cheeks she stopped, desperate bringing him to fulfilment with mechanical, determined movements of her hand.

Her plump fingers squeezing him, up and down, up and down, as he shuddered and pressed his lips together, as tear after tear dripped down either side of his face onto that strange-smelling, scratchy bedding.

His purity had been taken from him once and for all, even though he had bathed for an hour after what had happened, he could still smell her suffocating scent on him.

That night he took all her letters out of his drawer and laid them down beside him, despairing to find that still when he concentrated very hard he was able to smell her scent, which had seeped into the parchment.

The smell of vanilla.

He shuddered at that memory and returned to the room he was sitting in, glancing at her quickly, unsure if he had done the right thing in telling her.

He swallowed loudly seeing that she was looking at him in disbelief, pained and resentful, apparently thinking that, like Aegon, he had indulged himself that night in the pleasures that a woman's body could give him.

Somehow he liked that look of distress and jealousy, the thought that she wanted him for herself, that she despaired at the thought that he could ever desire another woman.

He grunted, not wanting to mislead her, at the same time not knowing how to explain it to her and not come off as a weak, pathetic man who cried when a woman tried to ride him.

It seemed to him that it should come naturally to him, and the fact that it didn't was endearing to him as her future husband and lover.

"Fear not. I didn't lie in bed with her. I didn't want to bring another disappointment and cause of embarrassment to my mother." He hummed, feigning light-heartedness, spreading himself out comfortably in his chair, looking wearily at his fingers, thinking with relief that he had excelled himself perfectly while not going so far as to lie completely.

It was true that his mother's opinion of him was extremely important to him.

He heard her let out a quiet breath, fiddling in a nervous gesture with the fingers of her hands lying on the book open in front of her, gathering herself apparently to say something.

He looked at her indifferently, at her pleasing figure, her pale face framed by long black lashes and full pink lips, and thought with pain that whoever his future wife was, she was beautiful.

"Will you drink wine with me, uncle?" She asked in a quiet, trembling voice, as if she could not bear this discussion with a sober mind.

He sighed and nodded, recognising that he needed the alcohol in his veins no less than she did.

Criston Cole looked at them distrustfully, watching them closely when one of the servants brought them a jug and two goblets, placing them on the table in front of them; she wanted to pour them some wine, however, his niece pre-empted her, saying she would do it.

"You can leave, Cole." He said, taking his cup from her, which she half-filled first.

His mother's sworn protector stood before them with his hands folded in front of him, clenching his lips, an expression of disapproval and condemnation in his eyes that aroused his frustration.

"My Prince, your mother insists that you…"

"That we don't visit each other in our chambers at night. We are having a conversation in the library. You may leave." He added with emphasis not withstanding the objection, looking up at him from below with a look that did not accept the refusal.

Cole bowed, casting one warning glance at his betrothed, then headed for the entrance with a loud clang of his armour.

His niece sat again to his right, spreading herself comfortably in the chair, raising her cup to her lips.

"Has he been trying to father you for a long time?" She asked without thinking, as if the question came naturally to her.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, fiddling with his chalice standing on the table in front of him, and sighed heavily, recognising that so far their honesty had only brought them closer together, and helped to calm him down.

"Unfortunately." He muttered, lifting the vessel to his lips and tilting it, taking a deep sip from it, the slightly tart, sweet and at the same time sour taste of grapes and alcohol spilling over his palate.

He heard her huff softly, glancing up at him with a slight, childlike smile; he felt hot in his chest at the thought that she still had it inside her, that amused twinkle in her eye, indicative of her brightness, of the fact that she was about to say something that would surely turn out to be true and an accurate statement.

"He's afraid you'll make his mistake." She said raising her eyebrows, however there was no mockery or challenge to be heard in her voice, he could hear her tongue hitting her palate with a quiet click as she uttered it softly, cheerfully, as if she thought it was a funny coincidence.

He looked at her impassively, knowing perfectly well what she was alluding to. He had heard, even as a young child, the conversations of servants who said that Criston Cole had broken his vows of chastity and lain in bed with Rhaenyra, who, however, later refused to run away with him and become his wife.

He wondered, what did he expect?

He answered nothing, taking another sip from his cup, looking thoughtfully ahead, remembering how he had repeatedly promised her that he would take her to Essos once he was a dragon rider.

"You also promised me a journey to Essos, uncle. I hope my future husband will not prove unfaithful to his words." She said lightly startling him completely − he looked at her wide-eyed having the impression that she was sitting inside his head.

Her head leaned against the back of her chair, her body spread out on it relaxed and soft, her beautiful dark hair framed her pale face on either side like the night itself.

She was smiling.

It was not a broad smile, almost imperceptible, at the corner of her mouth, her gaze, warm and assured, confirmed the sincerity of that grimace.

He felt a tightness in his throat at this sight; involuntarily the pointing finger of his hand outstretched on his armrest touched her bare skin. He felt her twitch, her lips parted slightly, her eyelids half open.

They began to play with each other's fingers, their tips rubbing against each other in the air illuminated by the warm light of fire and candles.

He had a lot of questions, a lot of doubts that made him furious − he thought about them as he watched their fingertips brushing against each other in the air, so innocent, tender, her skin so indecently soft.

Did she really think anyone would agree to Jace, that fucking bastard, being heir to the throne?

That a war wouldn't break out?

That after his father's death he would remain silent about who her brothers were?

He pressed his lips together, sighing heavily, realising that he would have to humiliate her along with them. He consoled himself with the thought that once she was his wife it wouldn't matter − she would become part of his family, their children would be from the rightful bed, and she would regain her dignity in the eyes of the kingdom.

They sat like this for a long moment, thoughtful, drinking wine, each locked in their own mind, only their fingers meeting once in a while, rubbing against each other in obvious need of closeness, reminding them of their presence.

"Why did you forgive me?" He asked finally, not looking at her though, but into the giant lit fireplace on the other side of the room, illuminating their faces along with the candles standing around them.

He felt her look at him, her gaze fixed on his face. She was silent for a long time before she replied.

"I have not forgiven you. I have understood you. Just as you understood me." She said finally, and he looked at her with a fast pounding, clenched heart, feeling discomfort in his lower abdomen.

Then, at last, everything became clear to him, and the weight that had been crushing him since he had seen her again fell from his shoulders.

They didn't have to force themselves to forgive each other.

They could just understand what had driven them, accept that they had unwittingly destroyed so much, and that some things they would never regain.

He felt suddenly that she was closer to him than ever before, his hand tightened on hers, wanting to see if she felt the same.

He swallowed loudly when her fingers intertwined with his, like the roots of two trees, like a vine; there was something ambiguous, something lewd about this gesture, he imagined their bare bodies hugged together in the same closeness.

"Spend the night with me." He muttered, looking at her, himself disbelieving that those words had left his mouth, feeling that his mind and his cock, all swollen in his breeches demanded her touch, her scent, her presence.

He saw in her misty gaze, in her slightly parted lips, in her sweetly rosy cheeks, that she felt what he said between her thighs, her chest rising and falling faster in shuddering breaths.

"Your mother…I'm sure Cole is waiting at the door to..." She started, but he didn't let her finish.

"Let's climb out the window to the cloisters. I'll take you to the empty servants' chambers." He said feeling her hand quiver in his grasp, excitement and determination in her eyes.

He thought he had completely lost his mind, that he was acting like a child, but maybe that was the point.

To pretend that he could get back anything of what had been taken from him.

She bit her lip at last, the corner of her mouth lifting in an innocent, cheerful smile from which he felt like throwing himself at her; he was sure that, like him, her daring had been enhanced by the wine she drank.

"Let's go, husband." She said softly, cockily, and he gasped loudly for air, standing up with a loud creak of old wood, feeling his head hum with each step to the shutters, the world around him seeming slightly blurred.

He opened them and immediately the cool evening air surrounded them. He glanced down and was relieved to see that they were not high up; he himself was easily able to get to the other side without jumping.

She moved after him without a word with a fierceness that surprised him, her task made more difficult by her long gown, but when he caught her at the waist and lifted her he managed to silently place her on the ground beside him.

They looked at each other with eyes full of self-satisfaction and pride, he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him, he heard her sweet, pearly giggle.

Although he had said since he was a child that he didn't understand women's notions of fleeing lovers who organised late-night escapades for each other, he thought now that he hadn't known the one thing back then that changed everything.

This overpowering, ferocious desire.

As the door of the cool, cramped, modest chamber closed behind them, as he shut the bolt to make sure no one disturbed them, he turned to her. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle a laugh of disbelief.

"Gods, they're going to kill us, uncle…we're…" She didn't finish as his thirsty, yearning lips clung to hers in a greedy, wet, loud kiss, his hands clenched on her gown and hair.

He heard her sigh of delight, she threw her arms around his neck, reciprocating impatiently the movements of his lust-swollen lips, their fingers trailing and clenching on their bodies as if to make sure it wasn't a dream, sighing and panting into each other's mouths.

"Let me see your bare body." He whispered between the loud, sticky clicks of their saliva-wet lips. "Your uncle hasn't seen you in so long."

"You must reciprocate, uncle." She whispered sweetly into his mouth and he groaned into her throat, rubbing the bulge in his breeches against her. He felt his mind go hazy, her lips, the tip of her tongue meeting his sweet from the wine, everything around him swirling, so he relied only on his sense of touch and smell.

Their hands began to clumsily untie and unfasten their garments, bestowing loud, wet kisses on each other once in a while in an attempt to sweeten the ordeal of pulling off layer after layer of everything they were wearing.

He pulled off his boots with a quick, impatient movement, almost falling over, losing his balance; he heard her giggle sweetly, her grip on his arm keeping him from collapsing.

He thanked the gods that she was already standing in front of him in only her nightgown.

"Too much wine, uncle?" She asked teasingly and he snorted, furious, grabbing the back of her neck with his hand, walking forward, forcing her to step back until she fell with a quiet squeal backwards onto the bedding on the cramped bed.

"I'll fucking show you in a moment." He hissed teasingly, grinning involuntarily; she smiled cheekily beneath him, writhing under him in impatience, watching as with a nimble flick of his fingers he untied his breeches, pulling their material aside, releasing what was underneath.

She looked up at him with a dreamy gaze, breathing loudly when she noticed how big and swollen he was, the pink tip of his cock all glistening, wet with his own juices, twitching all over with desire.

"I need to feel you. Just for a moment. I won't be violent." He muttered spreading her thighs in front of him, drawing her buttocks closer; she nodded quickly, all red and trembling as he lifted the material of her nightgown higher.

"− fuck − what happened here, sweet niece? − you're leaking −" He whispered in a trembling voice, looking in disbelief at how wet she was, his thumb involuntarily ran over her heat from her bud to her slit, she squirmed beneath him, impatient.

"− tell your uncle what do you want − hm? −" He asked, not believing it was happening, having a feeling it was only a dream; he let his manhood run over her wetness, over her puffy folds, rubbing against her.

"− y-you − gods, I want you −" She mumbled out clasping her hands on the pillow on either side of her head, her hair spread around her head in wonderful disarray − his gaze fled from her face to his manhood sticky with her moisture, a shiver ran down his spine at her words.

"− spread your thighs wide − wider − just like that, come here − let me inside you − shhh −" He hushed her, hearing her whimper as the fat head of his cock pressed against her tight walls, with difficulty forcing its way inside her.

"− fuck − so tight −" He breathed out, clenching his eye almost in pain, his hands slid down from her thighs to her womanhood, his thumbs spreading the folds of her skin to the sides, allowing him to open her wide on his length. He groaned pathetically at the sight, her whole body trembling, a cry of exertion escaping her lips.

"− I know − I know − shhh − just a little more − it's almost in −" He gasped tenderly, wanting to soothe her, with a slow motion of his hips sinking deeper and deeper into her throbbing hot body.

The sensation of being inside her was very different from what he had felt when Aegon had taken him to the brothel, her muscles moist and hot, tight, clenching on his manhood so hard it took his breath away.

He felt vulnerable and safe at the same time, for here was his beloved, his Rhaenys reaching her hand up to his cheek, as terrified as he was, trying to soothe him with the gentle movement of her fingers, from which they both sighed.

"− you are so warm −" He whispered looking at her face, with gasp of exertion sliding his length fully inside her, feeling a tightness in his throat as if he was about to cry, her eyebrows arched in indecision, clear discomfort but also desire shone in her eyes.

"− uncle − too big −" She babbled, bravely trying to fit what he had just thrust into her; he shushed her again and slowly slipped out of her only to fill her again with himself. They looked at each other with slightly parted lips, shocked at how shameless and yet delightful the experience was.

"− gods, yes −" He exhaled, sliding out almost to the very end, only to sank inside her again with a loud click of her moisture, both of them moaned pathetically.

"− o-oh fuck, uncle −" She mewled as he sped up, rooting into her tight core again and again, slowly, tenderly, placing one of his hands next to her head. He chuckled involuntarily, guessing this must have been the first time she cursed loudly.

"− be quiet − want anyone to disturb us? − hm? − see how I take what is mine? −" He growled out, moaning low along with her, their naked bodies slapping against each other loudly, his cock all sticky from her moisture, he felt how at his words her walls clenched hard against him, sucking him inside.

"− i-if we get caught, won't you marry me? −" She asked despairingly like a small child and he snorted, looking with parted lips at her breasts bouncing slightly with each of his thrusts, his hand impatiently slid the material of her nightgown off her shoulder and squeezed one of them, massaging it between his fingers, playing with her nipple with his thumb.

"− you silly woman − no mere lord will take what belongs to me −" He hissed, speeding up, each buck of his hips stretching her hot, throbbing muscles with more and more intense, confident thrusts, he had the feeling that her fleshy walls had adapted to his size.

He leaned over her, sliding his tongue deep into her throat, their kisses loud and chaotic, forming a dance of their teeth, lips and saliva; they whined and panted into each other's mouths, her hands clenched on his naked buttocks, her breasts pressed against his chest as he rooted into her with low groans of pleasure.

"− o-oh gods, uncle − m close −" She whimpered, shuddering and panting beneath him, their bodies entwined together as then their fingers, tight, sweaty and hot, pulsing with desire, slapping against each other loudly.

"− me too − fuck − where −" He muttered, feeling that he was as close to fulfilment as she was, that one more push of his cock into her and it would be all over.

"− inside me − please, uncle, inside me −" She cried out and her words startled him so much that he just came, cursing loudly, furious at himself and his stupidity, slapping his hand loudly on the bed frame above her head in rage, moaning and panting along with her in elation and delight as his seed spilled inside her.

"− yes − gods, yes, yes, yes −" She mewled out, her eyes closed, her head tilted back, her lips parted sweetly in complete bliss, her hot walls clenching and throbbing against him in elation.

"− we're fucking fools − gods, my sweetest −" He howled, falling on top of her, crushing her with his body; he sighed quietly when he felt her arms quickly embrace him, his cock twitching hard inside her in the stupefying delight that was shaking his body.

"− forgive me −" She babbled, clearly only after a moment understanding what they had actually done.

He turned his cheek towards her, gripping her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him.

"− we will marry as soon as possible − do not fret − I took you and you are mine now −" He whispered, and she breathed a sigh of relief, her lips swollen from emotion and exertion clinging to his in a tender, warm kiss full of gratitude and affection.

He closed her in his embrace, trying to calm his breathing with her, stroking her hair, thinking only of how never after he had claimed Vhagar had he felt so fulfilled as a man as he did now.

He thought that there was still hope for them.

That from now on everything would be as it should be.

What he didn't know yet was that the only person who wanted their nuptials as much as them had just fell asleep forever.

The King was dead.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires

[knight-says-rollout]

Would you mind telling us about more disabled Cybertronians?

Oh boy would I

For this list let’s focus on physical disabilities, both because they’re the most commonly dismissed by the fandom and bc if we try to cover everything we’d be here all day (that can be another list, maybe, if y’all want)

This isn’t going to be comprehensive bc I’m tired but!! I will aim for a broad variety of examples nonetheless

Bumblebee - You all know him, you all love him. He’s the most obvious and most well known example of a disabled Cybertronian character.

In many iterations he is mute

Not by choice but because he lacks a voice box. Bee physically isn’t capable of speech and depending on the version has different tools to work around that. Sometimes he uses his radio to repurpose song and radio dialogue into speech, in cyberverse he also makes use of the internet for clips. In the aligned continuity (tfp and connected media) he speaks in binary, a very simplified form of language using beeps and buzzes, but still lacks a real voice and can’t form words.

In IDW he has a cane

At one point in the comics Bumblebee was shot by a human protester and as a result used a cane for a good bit of time. I haven’t had the chance to read that far into IDW yet so I’m not sure how long he had the cane for but it was enough time that it’s a solidified part of the charcaters history. I’ve seen little models of the cane for sale, to be paired with bee figures.

TFP Ultra Magnus - everyone’s favorite awkward commander, despite his popularity he’s surprisingly overlooked when it comes to this discussion

An amputee, he lost his hand

During an energon raid with wheeljack, magnus’ hand was crushed. Ratchet couldn’t save it and had to amputate, replacing it with a hooked prosthetic. I call it a prosthetic rather than replacement part because despite him being able to move it, it’s not a hand. Not in the way he had previously, and he has to relearn how to use it at all.

I think that’s an important distinction to make when discussing disability and transformers. Some bots might have only ever had one hand, or no legs, or etc but that’s always been their level of ability and since they Are robotic. Yeah they might not have the same capabilities as another bot but that’s a hard metric to go by. Seekers can fly but a grounder isn’t disabled because they can’t fly too, it’s a different standard.

WFC Shamble - far lesser known than Magnus, and reasonably so, this background character is Also missing a limb

Amputee, leg edition

His prosthetic is a lot less fancy than magnus’s, it’s a simple peg leg. Put em together and you get a pirate. Not much to say about him since i don’t know how he lost the leg, just that he did.

Shadow Striker - Most awesome lady in cyberverse. Unlike the above two, she Was able to get actual replacement parts rather than prosthetics. Despite this, she is both shown throughout the show and implied to have

Impaired mobility

Chronic pain

She was able to get replacement parts yes but they were needed because she was blown up. The limbs she was given were kinda just what the others could Find and as such are mismatched and don’t fit her very well. Her motor skills took a blow especially when it comes to combat, something she used to excel in. Her new limbs are described as unstable and prone to malfunction. The loss of mobility and implied chronic pain that come along with her situation are rough, but she makes do.

SG Soundwave - my favorite little guy, he’s in a bit of a different situation than the previous.

Bad Joints ™

His body was entirely overhauled multiple times, successfully, but the latest frame change was done with conflicting metals. Earth and Cybertronian materials clash in his joints, making them prone to getting stopped up. The most affected hinge being the one on the door to his tape deck. It is so prone to getting stuck that his cassettes refuse to dock with him at risk of getting trapped. To work around this, Soundwave has the aid of a personalized case he carries around that they dock in instead.

IDW Sunstreaker - speaking of assistive devices, this guy was (for a time) a wheelchair user! Or,, hoverchair.

Temporary,,, paraplegic? Correct me if another term fits better

Taking this moment for an aside to say hey!! Lookit that, both canes and hoverchairs are things that canonically and casually exist on cybertron!! It’s not too wild to assume there are bots out there who use them long term!! Yes both characters on this list were repaired eventually but they’re also both very popular old characters from an action based franchise and hasbro doesn’t have the balls to make something like that permanent yet. We the fandom are not hasbro. We can do whatever we damn want with our OCs. It’s canon that ur little guy can use mobility aids.

Ok, PSA over, anyway yeah Sunny’s body was basically wrecked and alpha trion was able to repair all of him except his legs. This put him in a hoverchair for a good amount of time.

Finback - he’s a con, a pirate, who developed a “metal wasting disease”

He’s on permanent life support

The disease is going to kill him eventually, and it’s explicitly stated that he’s come to terms with the idea of his death. In the meantime he’s using pretender tech, kinda like fancy armor, to reinforce himself and boost his immune system

Perceptor - for a microscope, the fact he’s got vision issues in multiple continuities is kinda ironic

He’s fully blind in cyberverse

He lost an eye in IDW

Between the two we get to see both routes taken to work with this. Adaption and technological aid. In cyberverse he uses his scope to compensate for the loss of vision Toph-style. In IDW he built himself a monocle that basically replaces the pieces that are missing.

Now we get into the uniquely Cybertronian disabilities, one’s that don’t quite translate to human conditions

Transmutate - is a beloved bot from beast wars

They can’t transform, they don’t have an alt mode

I’m hazy on the details of their character but afaik they came from a damaged stasis pod. Described as deformed and handicapped for their both their lack of an alt mode and general appearance, they are probably the oldest explicitly disabled Cybertronian character

Xaaron - from G1 is in a similar situation

He can’t transform, it would kill him

Unlike transmutate he does have an alt mode, a tank, but after thousands of years without transforming he is no longer able to. The new stress it would cause on his body would kill him.

Broadside - continuing with the subject of alt modes, this clumsy boy is a boat! That’s not a good thing.

He’s very prone to motion sickness

As you can imagine, chronic sea sickness isn’t the most helpful thing when you are the boat. This brings in the entirely new element of mobility issues that are inherent to alt modes. A bot that functions fine in root form might not in alt mode and vice versa.

Trailbreaker - is another instance of this. He’s not a fast car by any means but that doesn’t stop the fact

His frame has a very high energon cost

Possibly the least fuel efficient autobot, he’s got an outlier ability on top of it all that only further increases his required energon intake. He needs to pay more attention to his energon levels and refuel more often overall.

G1 Knockout - yes that’s right the shiny medic himself is on this list, though not for the same reason as his tfp version, g1 knockout still lives up to his name

He’s prone to fainting

A knockout in the more literal sense, he faints when he gets too excited. Fully collapses and everything. Since he’s a fall risk, his teammates take care to keep an eye on him.

Annnnd Yknow he probably should’ve been earlier in the list along with the “human-ish” issues but I’m tired, it’s late, and I’m bringing this list to a close

Im sure there are more characters that I didn’t mention but I hope this helped! Thank you for the ask

[ramayantika]

I woke up just now but in half asleep summer nap state I will roll for Heermandi

1. I felt that Alamzeb's casting could be better. The girl was pretty but yet I could not feel the budding romantic expressions on her face and body language. Like that sharmana and poetry narration felt very forced.

2. TAJDAR WHY WHY WHY SLB I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU. No spoilers. Tajdar is very charming, amazing voice, very handsome.

3. Okay considering the history of tawaifs I was at times so mad at Alam and was about to hit the phone screen to say woman wake up to reality.

4. Lajjo and Zorawar's story. Why he left her, her addiction and Lajjo's story could have been explored more. You have such a brilliant actress and when SLB is noted for using actors and their character to their greatest potential, I felt he did not not do that with lajjo this time. We only see her enter in sakal ban, she is always drinking and thinking about Zorawar

5. Manisha was brilliant. The ruthlessness, the wit and slyness. And for a tawaif of those times whose existence and power is constantly challenged, by other tawaifs and rivals and then nawabs and British she has to be so clever, cunning and vicious. Yet her feelings for Alam especially by the end (spoiler free) did make me understand her stony heart more.

6. Aditi as Bibbo was charming, graceful and elegant. And goddamn the way she uses her skills to charm henderson so she may help her people to fight against the British.

7. Star villain Fareedan. I was looking forward to her schemes. And it was understandable why she hates Mallikajaan (manisha). The power play, the constant challenging was interesting to watch. Also sonakshi really acted well, both as Fareedan and as Rehana aapa. I won't say much because the way her character changed at a point where mallika was violated (watch the series for that) like it made me get an overview of these women. Women who were wronged since birth, clinging on to their art and performance, carving a distinct identity for themselves and yet having pride over who they are, and despite all the politics, inner enmity and betrayals, they still did not wish the worst to each other and later come together for they all share one pain.

8. The women if heeramandi coming together to fight for the British got me goosebumps. They decide to use all their money and life to fight for the country. Aditi's (bibbo) dialouge ek baar mujrevali nahi mulkvali bannke sochiye and another dialouge which meant that when the country is burning one does not organise lavish gatherings (mujra mushayra)

9. Songs were pretty good. Sakal ban was trending and I loved the other songs too. Reminded me of Pakeezah

10. Sanjeeda Shaikh as Waheeda. Bhai I used to feel so bad for her. She was betrayed everytime. Poor girl wanted power too like her sister but I understand why she wasn't given. Tawaifs cannot be put into a box. They aren't your gentle shy lover girl type women like we see in pakeezah, the lovely shy, sweet, pure sahibjaan. Their world is a golden cage and to survive here is a war fought everyday.

11. Tajdar ka baap kya gadha egoistic aadmi hai

12. End thoughts: aesthetics = 100/10. I was still looking for slb to explore more of their emotions and life and not just their opulence. Summing up everything, heermandi: 7/10

[ghulehunknown]

Papa Headcanons - 💋💑

Day 15 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**WARNING - NSFW**

Also available on AO3!

My headcanons of ~lovemaking~ with the Papas

Primo

Perfectly content to lay on his back and watch you ride, too old and tired to do anything wild and crazy

Had lots of wild sexventures in his youth and is happy to have missionary or cowgirl sex for the rest of his days

Refers to the act as “making love” for general sex, or “fornication” for a quickie

Always conscious about wearing a condom

Lots of kissing and cute pet names

Rarely, if ever, says he loves you but treats you so sweetly you know he does

Switch but mostly a pleasure dom

Won’t stop until you cum

Surprisingly gentle touch

Painfully aware of the size of his member and makes sure to ease into you and makes sure you’re very wet and ready for him

Secondo

Prefers to let you ride him but he controls the motions and speed from the bottom

Also loves spooning you so he can reach around to your front

Has a good read on facial expressions and can generally tell what you’re in the mood for and pays attention to your body language during sex

Comes prepared with toys, lube, condoms, dilators, and other accouterments

Loves to play with your nipples

Leaves you one of his button down shirts to wear afterwards

Indulges in a cigar or cigarette, or a glass of whiskey, in bed with you after

Almost always a dom and will play it rough when you want it

Easily makes you cum multiple times

Wants to service and be serviced by his sub

Loves facefucking you

Terzo

Romantic gestures- lights lot of candles, spreads rose petals on the floor and bed, dims the lights, draws you a bubble bath, sends you roses or a lunch delivery at work

Seduces you all day through texts which include “So what are you wearing? 😼” and “Wanna fuck?”

Has an extensive toy collection

He calls the act fucking but definitely adjusts to the mood/vibe depending on whether you want it slow or fast

Desperate to get you off multiple times

Won’t let himself cum until you have at least once before him

Studies your body’s reactions so he knows when you’re about to have an orgasm

Gets turned on by turning you on

LOTS of foreplay and lots of lube

Consistently asks if you’re comfortable

Likes to switch positions a lot

LOVES doggystyle because it makes him feel bigger

Is relieved when you say you’re on birth control but has condoms in his room and office just in case

Loves cumming inside you but also loves to spill his seed on your chest and see how much you milked him

Switch, but can easily adapt to whatever works in his partner dynamic

Cardinal Copia

Finishes quickly and is a little ashamed about it but is assured when you tell him it’s okay and you know he’s just so turned on by you that he couldn’t help it

Sniffs your underwear you left in his room the night before to get hard again and anticipate the next time

Nearly cums his pants just during the makeout session pre-sex

Carries a condom in his wallet

Wants you to undress him

Surprised and overjoyed if he makes you cum but often confuses your moans as orgasms even if you haven’t yet

Keeps asking “Is this okay?”

Acts like a Casanova IRL but when it’s just the two of you he gets a little shy

Not sure how to incorporate toys but is willing to try

Popia

He absolutely calls it “making love”

Has clear distinctions between just fucking and lovemaking

Absolutely loves facing one another on your sides, one leg hooked over your hip to press you up and down on his cock, so he can look you in the eyes and kiss your face

Loves missionary too

Almost more excited for foreplay and the chance to see you naked than (penetrative) sex

Whispers “I love you, I love you” while kissing your face

Switch; wants to fuck you and also get fucked

Proud if he can get you off multiple times in one session

Can sense if something is wrong or you’re uncomfortable and will stop immediately

Lowkey begging you to peg/top him since you started dating. He’s never tried it but wants you to dominate him

Enjoys cumming inside you because he’s never felt closer to another human than in that intimate moment. The first time he said he loved you was when he came inside you for the first time

[melloollem]

Before The Great Fall|| Jason Todd (Robin) × No reader gender

Summary: You and Jason have become friends because you have a habit of walking around the city at night and Robin has a habit of taking you home.

Warnings: Comfort, teenage Jason Todd, slight flirting (The relationship is much more of a friendship), English is not my native language.

(DC masterlist)

"Where are you going so late?" A sudden voice said, making you stop abruptly and look up, trying to find its speaker, Robin. You wondered if Batman forced him to train that voice, it was so distinctive.

"Aren't you too young to be walking alone so late?" You hadn't found him yet, but now he seemed to be coming from a different, closer place. You turned your head in various directions trying to find him. "Aren't you too young to go out at night to beat up criminals?" You retorted, already frustrated by his behavior, wondering if he was going to show up.

"I'm here" Jason was enjoying how lost you looked. Before you had a chance to locate him, he dashed to your side, you turned away abruptly at the sudden appearance, the boy laughed, it was something that never lost its funny "It's never too early to start fighting crime" His voice tried to copy some kind of charm, the kind seen in movies. Now it was your turn to laugh. "If you say so," you shrugged, finding Jason's behavior hilarious.

Your reaction confused him, had you liked it? He dismissed the question with a shake of his head. "So... where are you going?" You thought about giving him an acid answer, but gave up because of how interested he seemed. "Flat tire," you said with a sigh of defeat. Jason's gaze fell on the bicycle you were carrying next to your body. It was so old that he wondered if it had really worked before the flat tire. You raised an eyebrow as you realized how much he was staring at the object in your hand.

The vigilante grabbed your bike and turned the other way. Your eyes followed the scene with attention and displeasure. "Are you going home" He answered your silent question, receiving a roll of the eyes from you. "There's no crime going on? Do you really need to keep an eye on me?" You haven't moved an inch.

"It's Gotham, it probably is" He shrugged simplistically "But tonight this is my area and if you're in it, I have to make sure you're safe" You didn't want to go home, but there was no point in arguing with Robin or he'd win, or his defeat wouldn't matter and you'd do as he said. You let out a sigh before hurrying to catch up with him. "If some super villain is following you and I'm about to die tonight, I hope you die with me," you complained walking alongside him, Robin laughed.

The two of you walked in silence. Now that you no longer had to look around, you let your thoughts take over, but Robin snapped you out of it by asking, "Where were you going so late?" You rolled your eyes at how insistent he could be. A stupid grin took over your face as you said, "I was going after crime, I'm..." You couldn't think of a hero's name fast enough to complete your joke.

"If you're a crime fighter, you'll lack appropriate attire" He looked you up and down, and you found his insinuation a little offensive. " Said Robin in his underwear," you whispered, but it didn't go unnoticed by him, who pushed you slightly with his body. His first choice of look hadn't been the best, whatever, Couldn't you forget that?

"I'm just kidding," you said when you noticed the boy's new bad mood, but your voice still sounded provocative. It was your favorite pastime to get on the vigilante's nerves.

"Answer my question" You rolled your eyes. "You're very nosy, don't you think?" Before he had a chance to respond, you added, "I didn't have an exact destination, I just went out to think for a while." Robin's eyes went down to your hands and the anxious way you waved them.

He hated the way that whenever things got bad at home, you left for Gotham without considering the dangers. He wanted to say something comforting about your family situation, but he knew you'd only get uncomfortable and try to change the conversation.

"You shouldn't do that, it's dangerous," Jason scolded you, even though he knew it wouldn't change your attitude. You couldn't walk around the city thinking that he would always show up to save you in any situation, you only believed that because it was what had been happening for months.

"Why not? That's how we met, you should be grateful to finally have some friends" You returned to your amused tone. He narrowed his eyes at how astute you were at changing the topic, but decided to let it go.

"You're not part of my personal life, why do you always assume that I don't have any other friends?" The answer came out in a monotone, he didn't know why he was still trying to fight you. "Who would want to be friends with a boy who goes out at night to fight crime? That's a sign of insanity to me," you said as if it were obvious.

"I don't think you understand the meaning of secret identity" He used his free hand to point at the mask covering his face, and you decided not to answer him.

The journey went smoothly, soon you'd be home. Jason thought you wouldn't say anything the whole way, but you did. "Do you think there's any chance of me getting out of Gotham?" The way you looked at him surprised Jason, like someone who thought he really had the answer to everything.

"Maybe, well, do you really want that?" The way his voice sounded more natural didn't go unnoticed by you. "I wish, but it seems that no one can escape Gotham, really escape." The simplicity of your speech made your lack of hope evident.

"Gotham has the lowest real estate prices in the region" Jason justified the phenomenon. You raised an eyebrow, expecting something more motivating from him, shouldn't he be a hero?

"You can be the one to change that" That was the wittiest and most realistic thing he could say, you accepted it gladly, at least he had tried.

"At least, if I stay, you'll have some friends" You brushed aside the seriousness of the conversation, not prepared to deal with it. He laughed quickly, with no chance to retort before he heard a call in his ear. You recognized the tension in his face, knowing there was some crime going on nearby.

"I'm in." You caught his attention, pointing your head towards your apartment, which was just ahead of you. "You can go." You took his bike and continued on your way. "Be careful, Robin." You shouted without bothering to look back, knowing he wasn't there.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

This writing is intended to imitate those movies in which the characters just walk around while having a dynamic and intimate conversation. I hope you enjoy the relationship I build with Jason.