#i want everyone to know that the most difficult part of drawing these was reverse engineering that motion blur for vizzini

[jitterbugbear]

It's MY The Princess Bride (1987) dir. Rob Reiner photo study and I get to choose the frames

[fannish-karmiya]

Is Wei Wuxian's Cultivation Actually Harmful to Him?

Throughout Wei Wuxian’s first life, he frequently argues with Lan Wangji over his cultivation. Lan Wangji believes that his cultivation will harm him and eventually destroy him, while Wei Wuxian insists that he has everything under control. Many readers take Lan Wangji’s warnings at face value, leading to the common fandom perception that demonic cultivation (more accurately, the ghost path) is inherently harmful to Wei Wuxian and that he should indeed give it up.

But does the text actually back that up, when we examine Wei Wuxian’s use of his cultivation? While Wei Wuxian does experience a few losses of control, I would argue that they are far more due to circumstances than anything else, and not a sign that the cultivating with resentful energy is inherently harmful to a cultivator’s body or that loss of control is an inevitable conclusion.

Preconceptions

Lan Wangji is the character who most often tries to tell Wei Wuxian that his cultivation is harmful. Immediately when Wei Wuxian returns from the Burial Mounds and meets Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji again while torturing Wen Chao, Lan Wangji expresses concern:

One against two, Lan WangJi still refused to back off. He gazed at Wei WuXian, “Wei Ying, for cultivating an evil path you would eventually have to pay. Throughout time, there has not been a single exception.”

Wei WuXian, “I can pay.”

Seeing how unconcerned he seemed to be, Lan WangJi lowered his voice, “The path would not only damage your body, but your heart as well.”

(Chapter 62, Exiled Rebels translation)

Now, Wei Wuxian’s path (guidao, the ghost path) is brand new. He invented it, being the first person to ever successfully cultivate using yuanqi, or the resentful energy of dead humans. So why does Lan Wangji speak so assuredly of the harm it can cause?

The term ‘cultivating an evil path’ is telling. Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is a new path, but there are other dark paths of cultivation which exist. The Nie sect’s sabres are an example; they absorb the killing intent and evil energy of the yao and guai they kill, and over time their sabres become more and more powerful but also lead the wielder closer and closer to an inevitable qi deviation.

Of course, Lan Wangji is not aware of the Nie sect’s technique, which is a strictly kept secret, at this point. Nie Mingjue only seems to have told Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao because they were his sworn brothers. But there are surely other paths like this which are publicly known.

We know about other dark rituals which are not part of Wei Wuxian’s ghost path, after all, and ‘backlash’ is a frequent risk, either due to making the user vulnerable or failing to fulfil the contract one agreed to.

The body sacrificing ritual which Mo Xuanyu uses, for example, will cause backlash if you fail to keep up your end of the deal.

It was an ancient, forbidden technique. Compared to an array, it resembled a curse more. The caster of the array injures themselves by creating incisions on their body, and draws the array and writes the incantations using their own blood, finishing by sitting in the center of the array. They can then summon an extremely villainous ghoul and ask for it to complete their wish. The price to pay was to offer their body to the evil spirit, with their own soul returning back to Earth.

This was the forbidden technique opposite to stealing another’s body—offering one’s body.

[...]

The difficult part was that, as soon as the evil spirit has taken over the body of the caster, the contract is sealed by default. The evil spirit must grant their wish, or else the curse will cause a backlash. The spirit in possession of the body will be completely annihilated, never to be born again!

(Chapter 2, Exiled Rebels translation)

Interestingly, the harm here is to the ‘evil spirit’ if they fail to keep up their end of the contract. Well, also the caster who gives up his or her life in exchange. At any rate, this sort of thing seems to be a frequent risk of dark cultivation techniques. The paperman technique is also quite risky:

The good thing was that Wei WuXian had once learnt a certain technique of the dark arts—the paper metamorphosis.

Although it was indeed useful, it had a number of restrictions as well. Not only was the time strictly limited, the paperman must also return as it were, after it had been released. There mustn’t even be a single scratch on it. If, on its way, it was torn apart or broken in any way, the soul would receive the same degree of harm—from a year of unconsciousness to a whole lifetime of lunacy. Thus, one must be extremely careful.

(Chapter 47, Exiled Rebels translation)

This seems to be a frequent concern with any dark technique, which probably is what led Lan Wangji to believe that Wei Wuxian’s new path would be similarly dangerous. It’s also very worth noting that he grew up in Gusu Lan, which is known for being even more judgmental towards dark cultivation than other sects.

He immediately seemed to realize, “Oh. I forgot. Your uncle Lan QiRen hates crooked people like me. You’re his proudest disciple, so of course you’re the same as him, haha. I refuse.”

Jiang Cheng stared at Lan WangJi, cautious, “Second Young Master Lan, all of us understand the Lan Sect’s ways.

[...]

Wei WuXian had been angered as well, “Lan WangJi! Do you really have to make this difficult at such a point in time? You want me to go to the Cloud Recesses for the GusuLan Sect’s confinement punishment? Who do you think you are, what do you think the GusuLan Sect is?! You really think that I won’t resist?!”

(Chapter 62, Exiled Rebels translation)

While many people speak negatively of Wei Wuxian’s cultivation path, Lan Qiren is particularly virulent when Wei Wuxian first proposes the theory as a teen:

Everyone in the room was stunned. Lan QiRen sprang to his feet, “The essence of exorcising demons and annihilating ghosts is to liberate! You do not study the methods of liberation, and even think about increasing their energy of resentment! You reverse the natural order, and ignore ethics and morality!”

[...]

Another book came flying from Lan QiRen. He spoke harshly, “Then, let me ask you again! How do you make sure that the resentful energy only listens to you and does not harm others?”

Wei WuXian ducked while speaking, “I haven’t thought of it yet!”

Lan QiRen raged, “If you thought of it, the cultivation world would not allow your existence! Get out!”

(Chapter 14, Exiled Rebels translation)

Due to their father’s seclusion and their mother’s imprisonment, Lan Wangji and his brother were raised by Lan Qiren. With his uncle having such a black and white view of such matters, it’s understandable that Lan Wangji would absorb that and struggle to reconcile the Wei Wuxian he knows and loves with the man who is cultivating an ‘evil’ path.

With his own sect and family so negatively inclined towards Wei Wuxian’s cultivation, I think Lan Wangji was primed to see every behaviour of Wei Wuxian’s through this lens. Similarly, the audience hears the younger Lan Wangji repeat these warnings so many times that I think many readers wind up believing him, too.

Confirmation Bias

However, I think much of this is actually a case of confirmation bias. Lan Wangji is predisposed to see Wei Wuxian’s cultivation as harmful, and is actively looking for signs that it is; he winds up correlating all sorts of things to Wei Wuxian’s cultivation as a result.

He does so when he visits Wei Wuxian in Yunmeng:

Lan WangJi, “Last time, during the hunt on Phoenix Mountain, have you noticed certain signs?”

Wei WuXian, “What signs?”

Lan WangJi, “The loss of control.”

Wei WuXian, “You mean me almost getting into a fight with Jin ZiXuan? I think you got something wrong. I want to fight with Jin ZiXuan whenever I see him.”

(Chapter 71, Exiled Rebels translation)

Which is true! Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan just do not get on at all. And if we go back to Phoenix Mountain, it’s clear that this was a perfectly ordinary fight:

However, Jiang YanLi didn’t turn around. Jin ZiXuan was even more enraged. He caught up to her in just three strides and was about to grab her hand when a shadow suddenly flashed before his eyes. Before he could see who it was, he received a blow on his chest. Jin ZiXuan swung his sword across and backed away.

When he finally could see, he raged, “Wei WuXian, why is it you again?!”

Wei WuXian blocked Jiang YanLi behind him, raging as well, “I haven’t fucking said it yet—why is it you again?!”

Jin ZiXuan, “Attacking because of nothing have you gone mad?!”

Wei WuXian struck with his palm, “That’s exactly what I’m doing! What do you mean because of nothing? What are you doing trying to grab my shijie just because of how ashamed you are?!”

Jin ZiXuan dodged to the side and returned to him a sword attack, “If I don’t grab her should I let her walk randomly around the mountain alone?!”

(Chapter 70, Exiled Rebels translation)

Jin Zixuan is described as being ‘enraged’ and tries to grab Jiang Yanli. He’s clearly being very hotheaded here himself. What brother wouldn’t be enraged after this, especially given Jin Zixuan’s pattern of speaking of Jiang Yanli derisively?

Earlier, Lan Wangji had forcibly kissed Wei Wuxian while he was blindfolded, and yet he didn’t display any loss of control or temper problems then.

(I also think this ties into how people tend to judge Wei Wuxian more harshly due to his lower social class; he’s often no more brash and arrogant than his peers, but because he’s the son of a servant only he is judged for it. Look at Jin Zixuan pulling his sword on a man who no longer carries a sword! He isn’t criticised for that. But I digress.)

Lan Wangji also believes that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is doing him spiritual harm, using evidence such as Wei Wuxian’s unwillingness to carry his sword or receive spiritual energy to help him heal:

Suddenly, he felt an itch at his throat. Blood began to rise up his chest. Trying to restrain it, Wei WuXian coughed a couple of times. Seeing that Lan WangJi was going to grab his hand again, Wei WuXian dodged, “What are you doing?”

Lan WangJi, “Your injuries.”

Wei WuXian, “No need. Why use spiritual energy for such a small wound? It’ll get better after some sitting around.”

Lan WangJi didn’t waste any words with him, grabbing for his hand again. At this point, two people came from outside of the cave. Wen Qing’s voice sounded, “Get better after some sitting around? Did you think I’m dead?”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

He observes this back when he visited the Burial Mounds in the day, and many years later tells Wen Ning that this was the conclusion he drew:

Wen Ning turned around. He couldn’t help but ask, “Young Master Lan, you don’t seem too surprised about this. Did you… Did you know about this as well?”

“…” Lan WangJi managed, “I only knew that his spiritual powers were somehow impaired.”

But to think this was the truth.

(Chapter 89, Exiled Rebels translation)

Working with incomplete information (since he doesn’t know that Wei Wuxian has no golden core, he instead assumes that he is being harmed spiritually by his cultivation) and a pre-existing bias against demonic cultivation, Lan Wangji viewed Wei Wuxian as someone who was bound to lose control at some point, and everything became evidence to prove what he already believed.

Loss of Control

However, I think it’s arguable that the instances where Wei Wuxian loses control are not an inevitability of his cultivation path. Instead, they occur in extremely dangerous combat situations where Wei Wuxian has no allies and is being besieged by hundreds or thousands of enemies.

I want to go over three instances where things go sideways for Wei Wuxian with his cultivation in his first life: Wen Ning’s awakening, the ambush at Qiongqi Path, and the battle at Nightless City.

Now, I wouldn’t even describe Wen Ning��s revival as a loss of control. Wei Wuxian had spent months trying to revive Wen Ning, and in the end he wound up waking up while Wei Wuxian was down in Yiling, not at the Burial Mounds to keep the situation under control. It’s like an unwatched pot boiling over.

Wei WuXian, “Didn’t I say not to touch the talismans on him?!”

Wen Qing didn’t even have the spare seconds to be surprised that Lan WangJi was here. She answered, “Nobody touched them! Not a single person went into the Cave! He tore them off on his own when he suddenly went on a rampage. Not only the ones on himself, he destroyed the restriction seals at the blood pool and the Cave as well! All of the fierce corpses in the blood pool got out. Wei WuXian, go save Granny and the others. They won’t be able to hold up much longer!!!”

(Chapter 75, Exiled Rebels translation)

Honestly, it’s hard to know based on this what caused Wen Ning to wake up or to return to consciousness. My suspicion is that Wei Wuxian’s efforts had worked, and he woke up with a lot of excess resentful energy he needed to work off; hence going to beat up all the other fierce corpses in the Blood Pool.

After this, Wei Wuxian takes measures to ensure that Wen Ning doesn’t lose consciousness again. For the next year until the ambush at Qiongqi Path, there are absolutely no incidents, and Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian go on night hunts together frequently.

Things only go wrong during the ambush.

Wei WuXian laughed coldly, “You’re seeking your own death!”

As he finished, Wen Ning raised his hand and tore off the red string that hung a talisman at his neck.

After the string snapped, his body wavered, and the muscles on his face began to twist. Marks that resembled black cracks crawled up his neck to his cheeks. He suddenly lifted his head, letting out a long, inhuman roar!

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

So Wen Ning wears a talisman which presumably suppresses his resentful energy, and which he must remove in order to fight at full strength. After Jin Zixuan shows up and completely fails to de-escalate the situation at all, Wen Ning kills him:

Wei WuXian was suppressing a blazing flame of hatred. His voice was cold, “Jin ZiXuan, move away right now. I won’t touch you, but you’re not going to provoke me either.”

Seeing that he still refused to yield, Jin ZiXuan suddenly lunged forward, as if trying to hold him down, “Why can’t you just back off for once?! A-Li is still…”

Just as he reached toward Wei WuXian, he heard a strange, heavy noise.

The noise was almost a bit too near. Jin ZiXuan paused in surprise. He looked down and finally saw the hand that pierced his chest.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

It’s pretty clear that Wen Ning saw Jin Zixuan lunging towards Wei Wuxian and interpreted him as a threat. As objective observers, we can see that this is actually quite understandable, if tragic, and realistically could have happened similarly in a mundane setting with no magic. But Wei Wuxian of course would start to feel doubt when something so terrible happens:

He was clearly controlling Wen Ning properly.

Even though he activated Wen Ning’s rampage mode, he should still be able to control him.

He’d clearly always been able to control him perfectly.

He didn’t want to kill Jin ZiXuan at all.

He never had the intention to kill Jin ZiXuan at all! It was just that moment. He didn’t know why, but all of a sudden he wasn’t able to control it… He had suddenly lost control!

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian had always been able to control Wen Ning perfectly before. Honestly, it’s not a surprise that his control was looser in a situation like this; he’s in the midst of an ambush where 300 people are trying to kill him! Realistically, Jin Zixuan bears some responsibility in his own death, too. When you’re trying to negotiate a ceasefire, you don’t fail to give the target of the attack any assurance of his safety and then lunge for him threateningly! Of course Wen Ning saw him as a threat and acted to defend Wei Wuxian.

Later, Wei Wuxian observes that during his ‘rampage’ state, Wen Ning draws his guidance from Wei Wuxian’s impressions of people:

Listening to him stutter as he apologized over and over again, all of a sudden, Wei WuXian felt extremely ridiculous.

It wasn’t Wen Ning’s fault at all.

It was his own fault.

When on a rampage, Wen Ning was nothing more than a weapon. The person who created the weapon was him. The things it listens to were his orders as well.

At that time, with all the tension and the killing intent on top of how Wei WuXian had never hesitated to show enmity toward Jin ZiXuan in front of Wen Ning, when he was unconscious, Wen Ning recognized Jin ZiXuan as an ‘enemy’ when he attacked, carrying out the order of ‘exterminate’ without a second thought.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I actually think that if Wen Ning had killed, say, Jin Zixun, Wei Wuxian would simply have seen it as a case of self-defence and accepted it as that. It’s the fact that Jin Zixuan is the husband of his foster sister (and the one person there he didn’t actually want dead) which turns this into such a tragedy.

The intensely stressful situation in the aftermath of Jin Zixuan’s death is the only time we ever see Wei Wuxian express doubt in his own abilities or regret choosing the ghost path:

With the child’s cries coming to his ears from afar and the scared siblings who were at a complete loss as to what to do in his eyes, Wei WuXian felt his heart sink lower into darkness. He asked himself, Just why have I been locking myself up on Burial Mound all these years? Why do I have to go through all this? Why did I choose to walk this path in the beginning? Why did I make myself like this? What do others see me as? Just what have I gained? Have I gone mad? Have I gone mad? Have I gone mad?!

If only he didn’t choose this path in the beginning.

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I think that during this period, Wei Wuxian was under an immense amount of stress. He was the sole protector of 50 people who the world wanted dead, and he had to be strong and confident for them at all times. Only during his initial panic after Jin Zixuan’s death does that confident front break down and show us just how much the stress must have been wearing on him:

As he thought and thought about it, Wei WuXian suddenly broke into tears.

His voice was submerged in a deep helplessness, “… Can someone tell me… what I’m supposed to do now?”

(Chapter 76, Exiled Rebels translation)

I honestly think that if Wei Wuxian had had someone to lean on and share responsibility with during this time, it would have helped him so much.

In the past, there were only others who asked him what to do. Now, though, he was the one asking others what he should do, and nobody was able to give him an answer.

[...]

Wei WuXian raged, “You can shut the fuck up! It’s already pandemonium the way things are right now! You two can stop adding more trouble onto my platter. Give yourselves in my ass. Did I tell you to do this? Take it out!”

(Chapter 77, Exiled Rebels translation)

Later on, at Nightless City, Wei Wuxian’s loss of control is directly tied by the narrator to his worsening mental state:

The more Wei WuXian panicked, the less control he had. The corpse ignored his command and instead lifted the sword in its hand, slashing it down at Jiang YanLi!

Wei WuXian had lost it, dashing as he shouted, “Stop it, stop it, right now, stop it!”

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

He manages to calm himself down and get back under control:

Jiang YanLi sighed, “A-Xian, you… you should stop first. Don’t, don’t…”

Wei WuXian hurried, “Yes, I’ll stop.”

He took up Chenqing, placed it by his lips, and began to play. He only managed to steady his mind with great effort. This time, the corpses finally stopped ignoring his commands. One after another, strange gurgles echoed in their throats as if they were complaining. Slowly, they bent down.

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

Only when Jiang Yanli is killed by a cultivator aiming for Wei Wuxian does he decide, in his grief and rage, to put the Yinhufu together again:

Yet, no matter the criticism, the blame, Wei WuXian could no longer hear any of them. As if governed by another soul, he reached out and took two objects from within his sleeves. Before everyone’s eyes, he put them together. One half on top and the other below, the two objects snapped into one, letting out a resonating clang.

Wei WuXian placed it on his palm and raised it high into the air.

It was the Stygian Tiger Seal!

(Chapter 78, Exiled Rebels translation)

We know that after the Bloodbath of Nightless City, as this battle comes to be known, Lan Wangji takes Wei Wuxian back to Yiling. However, Wei Wuxian is in a very poor mental state (most likely due to stress, exhaustion, and trauma), and only regains awareness a few days later at the Burial Mounds.

This is when he decides that the Yinhufu is a weapon which he should never have created, and determines to destroy it.

After using it for the second time, he finally decided to destroy one half of the seal. Before he could completely destroy the other half, the siege at Luanzang Hill happened, and it had since then been beyond his capabilities.

(Chapter 30, Exiled Rebels translation)

So Wei Wuxian was actually able to successfully destroy one half of the seal, and start work on the second, in the three months between Nightless City and the First Siege.

Toward his own creation, Wei WuXian was confident to say that even if the sect that got hold of it, made a temple for it, and offered it incense every single day, the remaining half of the Tiger Seal was just a piece of scrap iron. However, Lan WangJi told him something shocking—it appeared that Xue Yang could rebuild the other half of the seal!

Although Xue Yang was young, he was also quite clever, a bizarre eccentric. The LanlingJin Sect discovered that he could use the remaining half of the seal to roughly piece together the other half. Even though the recreated version wasn’t as powerful and couldn’t be used for as long, it could already result in terrible catastrophes.

(Chapter 30, Exiled Rebels translation)

I gather that the first half, he completely neutralised. The second half had not been fully drained of power when the First Siege happened. We never see the First Siege, but I think we can hazard a guess that once the Wens were massacred, Wei Wuxian knew that it was all over, and decided to destroy the second half of the Yinhufu so that no one there could get their hands on it. It is likely the backlash from improperly destroying/neutralising the Yinhufu which led to his corpses turning on him and ripping him apart.

Wei Wuxian does confirm that some sort of backlash killed him:

Wen Ning whispered, “Sect Leader Jiang, Jiang Cheng, brought a siege upon the Burial Mounds. And he killed you.”

Wei WuXian, “I’ll have to clarify this one. He didn’t kill me. I died from a backfire.”

(Chapter 43, Exiled Rebels translation)

“That’s merely hearsay. Although Jiang Cheng was one of the main forces, he did not give Wei WuXian the final blow. Because he cultivates the Demon Path, Wei WuXian’s powers had backfired and he was ripped to pieces.”

“Hahahaha… That’s karma! The ghost soldiers that he created are like unleashed dogs, biting everyone that they come across. It serves him right to be chewed to death!”

(Chapter 1, Exiled Rebels translation)

While the vast majority of information in the prologue is revealed later to be lies, Wei Wuxian does confirm this. Strictly, the ‘ghost soldiers’ were probably his fierce corpses. ‘Ghost’ or ‘Gui’ is used in Modao Zushi’s magic system as a catch-all phrase for dead humans, whether they’re actual ghosts (incorporeal spirits) or reanimated corpses. We know that Wei Wuxian was using huge numbers of fierce corpses to act as guards at the entrance to the Burial Mounds and protect the Wens, after all.

Wei Wuxian’s Second Life

So the risk of backlash is confirmed as a threat when using guidao and other dark cultivation techniques. However, it seems that they either have a clear contract which has to be fulfilled (like in the body sacrifice ritual), or a clearly defined risk which can be mitigated or prevented entirely through careful use.

It’s notable that Wei Wuxian is in control of his cultivation far more often than not, and in his second life we see absolutely no losses of control from him. This is probably down to a few things, one of them being greater experience. He also is no longer working alone; Lan Wangji is nearly always at his side or very nearby, which removes the intense stress of trying to fight against the entire world alone.

Honestly, I can’t even pull up any instances of Wei Wuxian struggling to control his cultivation in his second life or being even mildly harmed by it; there are absolutely none. We only ever see him dealing with mundane exhaustion, stress, and physical injuries.

He recovers very quickly from performing Empathy with Nie Mingjue:

Hearing this, Wei WuXian instantly pulled himself out!

He was still the thin paperman, stuck to the helmet that sealed Nie MingJue’s head. He had tugged loose the knot that tied the iron shells over Nie MingJue’s eyes, revealing a bloodshot eye, opened wide with anger.

[...]

There wasn’t much time left. He must return to his corporal body immediately!

Paperman WuXian flapped his sleeves, flying out as though he were a butterfly.

[...]

A while later, once his soul had returned successfully, Wei WuXian immediately took a deep breath. He raised his head, opened his eyes, and suddenly stood up. Yet, having not expected his body to still be disoriented, he felt dizzy and leaned forward. Seeing this, Lan WangJi caught him in his arms. Wei WuXian lifted his head once more, and the top of his head collided with Lan WangJi’s chin. With a thud, both of them grunted in pain. Wei WuXian rubbed his head with one hand and felt Lan WangJi’s chin with the other, “Ugh! I’m sorry. Lan Zhan, you alright?”

His chin having been stroked a couple of times, Lan WangJi lightly took Wei WuXian’s hand away before shaking his head. Wei WuXian tugged him, “Let’s go!”

(Chapter 50, Exiled Rebels translation)

After this, he is stabbed by Jin Ling and winds up spending four days unconscious in Cloud Recesses. I’ve seen it suggested that his short bout of hallucinating after he wakes up is due to harm from his cultivation, but I firmly disagree. He’d been unconscious for four days after being stabbed!

He immediately let go, almost wanting to roll away. His movement was so large that it hurt the wound at his stomach. He exclaimed an ‘ah’ as he scrunched his brows, finally remembering that he was still injured. Amid the stars before his eyes, Jing Ling, Jiang Cheng, Jiang YanLi, Jiang FengMian, Madam Yu… Many faces spun around in a large circle.

[...]

Only having ensured that his injuries were indeed fine did Lan WangJi finally let him go, “Four days.”

Jin Ling’s sword stabbed right through. The wound hadn’t been shallow at all. How it healed within four days without even leaving a scar behind meant that high level medicine of the GusuLan Sect had to have been necessary. Wei WuXian thanked him, mocking himself along the way, “I’ve reincarnated but somehow I’ve become even weaker. I couldn’t keep going after just a single stab.”

(Chapter 63, Exiled Rebels translation)

After being a bit muddled upon first waking up, he’s fine. He was also dreaming about his past while unconscious, which is why he’s described as seeing all these faces ‘amid the stars before his eyes’. The flashbacks in Refinement and Poisons-Evil are both framed as Wei Wuxian sleeping and dreaming about the past, and he’s thinking about them as a result; he’s not portrayed as actually hallucinating and thinking they’re really there.

Wei Wuxian is very drained by the events of the Second Siege and faints twice afterwards. However, it’s worth noting that during the Second Siege, he didn’t really use resentful energy (he couldn’t, as all the corpses there were under the control of the Yinhufu); he used talismans, which only require a small amount of spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian even specifically states that Mo Xuanyu’s body is very weak, refusing to use Suibian before the Second Siege:

He wore it by his waist and didn’t seem like he was going to use it. Seeing how Lan WangJi looked at him, he fiddled with his hair and explained, “I haven’t used a sword in so many years. I’m not used to it.” As he spoke, he sighed again, “Alright. The real reason is that my current body is low in spiritual energy. Even if there’s a high level sword, it won’t be able to make the best use of it. And so, it’ll be up to HanGuang-Jun to protect the delicate man that I am.”

(Chapter 68, Exiled Rebels translation)

Wei Wuxian collapses due to exhaustion on the boat ride to Lotus Pier:

OuYang ZiZhen, “HanGuang-Jun, why did Senior Wei collapse?”

Lan WangJi, “Fatigue.”

Lan JingYi was amazed, “I thought that Senior Wei would never get tired!”

(Chapter 84, Exiled Rebels translation)

He collapses again during the fight at the Jiang ancestral hall:

Lan WangJi, “Wei Ying?!” His low voice rang within Wei WuXian’s ears, echoing endlessly.

Wei WuXian was starting doubt if something happened to his ears, “What’s wrong?”

He felt something streak down his face, but reached up only to retrieve a handful of scarlet. Accompanied by throbs of dizziness, blood continued to drip down his nose and his mouth, onto the ground.

[...]

Having come to the conclusion that Wei WuXian was only in a temporary state of unconsciousness due to extreme fatigue and anger, Lan WangJi finally tore his gaze away.

(Chapter 88, Exiled Rebels translation)

When he wakes up in Chapter 90, he feels unwell but recovers fairly quickly:

For a long while, he couldn’t figure out what was happening. Only when he saw the splatters of blood on Lan WangJi’s left sleeve, like a string of plum blossoms resting on snow, did he finally recall what happened before he passed out from anger. His expression twisted at once as he suddenly sat upright. Lan WangJi went to help him, but the ringing in Wei WuXian’s ears hadn’t stopped yet.

[...]

Lan WangJi knew that he wasn’t feeling well. Silent, he didn’t ask anything. He lay one hand on his back, sending him a warm thread of spiritual energy.

[...]

Looking around, Wei WuXian suddenly exclaimed, “I’m hungry.”

Lan WangJi looked up. Of course, Wei WuXian wasn’t hungry at all. He had just eaten three pies at the vendor in front of Lotus Pier’s gates. Lan WangJi only ate one, however, and it was the only thing he’d eaten in the past two days. The matter was on Wei WuXian’s mind.

(Chapter 90, Exiled Rebels translation)

The narrative again directly links it to exhaustion, not to anything more ominous than that:

In the fight at Burial Mound, Wei WuXian exerted too much energy and stamina. Both his mind and his body were strained for too long. A few hours earlier, Jiang Cheng angered him so much that he almost bled from his qiqiao.

He only recovered after a long time of rest. Although he didn’t feel too bad right now, if there was something he missed and he pushed himself all the way to Lanling, it was hard to tell whether or not an accident would happen at a critical moment. On top of that, he wasn’t the only one straining his mind and body in the past few days. Lan WangJi didn’t rest for a second either.

(Chapter 91, Exiled Rebels translation)

As said, there simply isn’t any proof, based on Wei Wuxian’s second life, that his cultivation is doing him harm, nor does he ever lose control of it.

This definitely indicates to me that Wei Wuxian’s losses of control in his first life were related to the circumstances and not an inevitable risk of his cultivation path.

In Conclusion

I actually suspect that Lan Wangji himself came to the same conclusion; he only ever gently warns Wei Wuxian to be careful when using dark techniques during his second life:

Lan WangJi let the paperman wriggle on his ribbon for some time. Just as he reached out to take it down, the paperman slid its way down as fast as it could. No matter intentionally or not, it bumped its head once against his lips.

Lan WangJi’s movements paused for a moment. Using two of his fingers, he finally caught it, “Do not fool around.”

Softly, the paperman rolled its body over his slender finger.

Lan WangJi, “You must be careful.”

The paperman nodded and flapped its wings. Clinging flat onto the ground, it climbed through the door slit and snuck out of the guest room.

(Chapter 47, Exiled Rebels translation)

He still does have some level of distaste for Wei Wuxian’s cultivation path, I would argue, due to the way he instantly latches onto the idea that Wei Wuxian would never have turned to the ghost path if not for his lost golden core:

“…” Lan WangJi managed, “I only knew that his spiritual powers were somehow impaired.”

But to think this was the truth.

Wen Ning, “If not because of this…”

If not because there really wasn’t a second path to walk on.

(Chapter 89, Exiled Rebels translation)

But the discussion of Wei Wuxian’s feelings on his cultivation is one for another day.

At any rate, I doubt that Lan Wangji is only holding back his feelings on the ghost path due to wanting to avoid any more fights with Wei Wuxian. After all, he spent 13 years mourning him. If he still believed that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation was going to eventually kill him, I doubt he would accept it so much more readily now.

I think the lesson he learnt, after looking back and thinking on the past a great deal, was indeed that Wei Wuxian would not have suffered such losses of control if he had had anyone to rely on in his past life. So now Lan Wangji always stands by his side and ensures that he will never reach such a state of desperation again.

[simpywriter]

What they would study in college

Universe: Modern AU Characters: Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Marco, Connie, Sasha, Reiner, Berthold, Annie, Ymir, Historia, Levi, Hanji, Erwin Warnings: none

Eren

Okay I’ve read a lot of headcanons about the subject and according to almost everyone Eren wouldn’t go to college, but would rather join the army (particularly in the air force). I actually disagree: canonically Eren became a soldier after his mother's death, to join the Survey Corps and exterminate the titans, but he previously wanted to be part of the Scouts to be able to explore the world outside the Walls. He has a strong sense of justice and spends much of the time proving that he wants to fight for the weaker regardless of how strong or powerful his opponent is. I see Eren as the type who wants to defend the people even in a modern universe, so I think he’d study journalism or something similar.

Armin

This little precious boy is obsessed with nature. He literally spends three whole seasons repeating that he wants to see the sea, the desert, the volcanoes, etc... He’s certainly passionate about natural sciences, so he would study something related to them, such as geology or marine biology.

Mikasa

Mikasa is very difficult to identify in a modern universe. We know her as the strong, introvert girl that always stick to Eren because of her past with him (I’m referring to when he saved her), but in a modern universe they’re unlikely to meet in such circumstances. What I believe would remain in her personality even in a normal world would certainly be her determination and a cool head even in the most difficult situations. With these characteristics she could easily graduate from medical school, specializing in something like neurosurgery.

Jean

Okay, for Jean it was a bit complicated. He’s an insecure guy, who wants to cover his weaknesses with the image of the strong man and that ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude; deep down he’s sweet, caring and attentive, we all agree on this. BUT, we can’t deny that Jean-boy is still one who likes to be watched, looking for approval. I see him studying acting, to work in the cinema or on television. I know that he’s really good at drawing but I don’t think he’d make it a job, it’s more likely to be a hobby for him.

Connie

Connie is the stereotype of the goofy college student who doesn't want to get too busy with intellectual subjects, but at the same time it's hard to imagine him solving complicated equations or speculating on the stock market. I see him as one to study something mechanically repetitive, where the only way to improve is constant practice (he must be good with manual subjects, let’s remember that he has earned a place among the top 10 cadets). He’s probably prone to study programming or computer coding. (The image of him wearing a cap backwards, a pair of headphones and sitting with his reversed chair while typing on his computer is just perfect).

Sasha

Biological farming, or anything relating to that and the green-sustainable. We all know Sasha as the ‘potato-girl’ and the only one who can bite her best friend’s hand thinking it’s actual meat and going on with chewing it (poor Jean). But she also lived in the forest for a big part of her life, living with her family in a small village in the woods; so I think that she’d be particularly sensitive to respecting the environment and looking for measures to make agriculture and livestock sustainable.

Reiner

He's the man everybody can rely on cough cough whatever, he's the good soldier and the friend always ready to help a comrade in difficulty. He'd definitely become a manager, a CEO or something similar, so I'd assign to Reiner Braun a degree in Business Management/Administration. Plus: I'm not the type for a man in a suit, but hey, let me just say this: his shoulders under a white shirt while he adjusts his sleeves above the elbow. Give us those biceps, dude!

Berthold

So, Berthold is always calm and quiet (even as the Colossal Titan he doesn’t roar even once); in the anime, his personality is not particularly developed regarding his interests, or maybe I missed something. But for what little we've seen he's obviously highly sensitive. This type of behavior makes me think that he needs an outlet and I imagine it in the writing. I don't know why but in my head the image of him as the reserved guy that pours what he thinks and feels in words it's quite suiting. So in college he'd study literature and simultaneously take courses of creative writing, even if, of course, he'd need a lot of support from his close friends, such as Reiner. (I also see him confessing to Annie with a letter).

Annie

She’s calm, reserved and perfectly capable of gaining respect from others with little effort, she reflects the image of a strong and independent woman. The two special episodes dedicated to Annie follow her as she searches for a missing girl, when she is put in charge of the investigation by the father of hers. With these premises it would be easy to place her in the sphere of law enforcement, in particular she would be perfect for the role of detective (not to mention her skills in hand-to-hand combat, this woman would become the terror of the whole police department). But to stick more accurately to the subject of 'college' she could study law to become a lawyer.

Ymir

She probably would like to be as close to the pussy as possible, I think she’d study medicine to become a gynecologist. Sorry, it's really a pitiful reason compared to the others, but in a certain way I see her with the white jacket intent on visiting her patients, she would also be very professional and no one else would see her Historia.

Historia

Historia is a character I personally like a lot; her growth is well made and I find in it a side of myself. Given that, rewatching some episodes made me notice that she really likes animals and taking care of them. From when she was a little girl she lived in the countryside with her mother and did the hard work so I don't see her as someone to take easy degrees. With her love for nature I definitely see her as a zoologist or a veterinarian.

Marco

Marco is a little cute boy and he’s just too innocent for this world. I miss him. However, just as Berthold he’s sensitive but he’s more prone to show it without embarrassment than hide it to then let it out alone in his private sphere. In my opinion he has a talent for literary/artistic subjects and he could be inclined to write too, but at the same time I see him more active than the Colossal-boy. For what little we have known about him it’s pretty obvious that he’s super kind and wants to help other people. Traveling around my Uni’s possible degrees I found something that can actually suit him pretty fine: linguistic and cultural mediation.

Levi

I think that, considering his past, a modern version of him could’ve been born when his mother was really young (and I mean 16 or 17 years old), so they wouldn’t have much money and he probably has to work during summer and right after diploma to gain enough money that would allow him a decent university (it’s not excluded that he will get a scholarship since he would surely be one of those brilliant students even with little commitment). And after securing the chance to study in my opinion he could get a degree in ‘I don’t-fucking-know’. Seriously, this is the hardest character. Reading others’ stories I found that almost everyone disagree about what Levi would study in college: some say medicine for his obsession with cleanliness (but on the one hand this mania has gradually disappeared over the course of the series and on the other it comes mainly from his Underground years, something that would not exist in the modern world), in some one-shots he studies engineering, and in others psychology, etc. Personally among all the ones I’ve read, he could be better suited to engineering. (But I'm still very confused about him so please leave some advice, I'll gladly accept them)

Hanji

She is probably the easiest character. She’s canonically obsessed with the titan’s biology and she loves to do experiments on them. In short, Hanji would absolutely study biology; a lot of people said that with her love for experiments she’s more likely to get a degree in chemistry, but I see her more passionate about the study of living beings, so I think that biology fits her perfectly.

Erwin

This man is certainly gifted for leadership and politics. In many ways he is similar to Eren in his ideals of justice and willingness to discover the truth, but unlike the boy who throws himself into battle even recklessly, we have rarely seen Erwin use the ODM gear to subjugate titans himself. In general, the commander of theSurvey Corps has always been rational and able to elaborate complex strategies to achieve a long-term result. He could graduate in political science or law. OR he could follow his father’s steps, becoming one of the few teachers who truly believe in their cause, with a strong interest in his students. However, it is certain that Erwin could never do a job he does not firmly believe in.

(I hate the fact that Tumblr allows only 10 images per post :() . Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this headcanon you can leave a like or a comment and if you have time you can check my Ao3. Hope you enjoyed!

[inknopewetrust]

Manipulate Me

Summary: As Peter travels Europe as a normal kid, the world’s peril throws a wrench in his plans. With you by his side chaperoning the trip as an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the mysterious introduction of Quentin Beck leaves you breathless. 

Pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None! 

A/N: Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom​ ! I had a great time writing for Quentin Beck again. For context, reader is Peter’s older sister but also happens to be a shield agent (it was the easiest route of explanation as to why she would be meeting with Fury and Maria Hill). Requests are currently OPEN and you can check out who I write for in my request guidelines tagged in my bio. Thanks for reading! :) *gif not mine* I do not own any of the dialogue from the film. 

“May-” 

“-And don’t forget the passports! Oh! The passports!” 

“May!” 

May stopped scrambling around the apartment only to find that you had the two passports already in your hand. The tired aunt pushed her disheveled hair out of her face, pushing her glasses back up her nose, and slowly calming down. It was fine... Peter had you, Peter had all his friends, Peter would be fine in Europe. 

“Everything is going to go fine. I’ll be with him at all times and if he decides to wander off and do his Spiderman stuff––well then I’ll just have to call in some Avengers to stop him.”  

“I trust that you’ll be able to keep him out of trouble if it comes down to it.” May picked up Peter’s suitcase off the floor and listened to his heavy footsteps draw down the hallway and into the living room where you had gathered with her. 

“All ready?” He asked with those inquisitively wide eyes that reminded you so much of your mom. May handed him the suitcase but not before capturing the boy in a tight hug. Her “motherly” instincts grew since she returned from the blip. It was strange without the two of them. You, stuck here in New York without a leader in either Fury or Tony and the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D, Avengers and then the developed Sword, were left to pick up the pieces and build a life without them. That was the most difficult part. 

“Promise me that you won’t get into any trouble?” May asked Peter who in reply rolled his eyes with a chuckle. 

“It’s just a school trip. Besides, Y/n is going to be there and I’m sure she’s told you a million times that she can keep me in check.” You smacked the side of his head but he just ignored you and turned to the door, opening it with a rough pull with his spider-y force. 

“We’ll see you in a few weeks, May!” 

If you were able to take back all the words you said and never go to Europe, you would ask Stephen Strange to reverse time. 

Venice was a mess. The water-creature-man-thing...? had erupted the small city into a chaotic terror with locals and terrified students trying to find cover. Peter was somewhere flying with webs while another hero whom you had never seen before was assisting him. After a few minutes of trying to guide a group of students to safety, you secured cover underneath an awning in front of a store. 

“Ms. Parker! What do we do!?” Flash was almost in tears from fear which you couldn’t help but judge. It was water? the kid survived Thanos’ snap so he could survive this. Not to mention Fury would have your ass if any of the kids died on your watch. 

Out of nowhere the ground started to fill up with water and cracking of concrete or bricks began echoing throughout the small courtyard you trapped them all in. The green man came swooshing in with a cloud of smoke, almost like an illusion, and stopped the water with the sheer force of his magical abilities. The creature reformed into what looked like a water man and the green man dodged the attack with made the sound of bricks tumbling increase in intensity. Suddenly, the tower to your right began crumbling and you pulled as many students as you could closer to the building you sought shelter next to. 

“Get back! Get back!” 

“Who is that guy!?” Jason, one of the students shouted out but you couldn’t answer the question because you didn’t know. 

“I don’t know, but he’s kicking that waters ass.” Brad voiced exactly what you would have said. 

The green man continued to fight the water as the tower crumbled beside you all and then, like the blink of an eye, the monster was gone and the water scattered, soaking your shoes with a safety that was much welcomed. The man landed to sounds of cheering from the students and locals that found themselves in the same spot as you. But something was different. 

Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or maybe the fact that you had never heard of this hero and you literally worked for the agency that worked with them all. Maybe he wasn’t from this world? Space? Another universe? You could have sworn that you heard of the idea of a multiverse. 

But maybe it was the fact that beneath all that smoke and mirrors that made up the helmet of the mysterious man, it felt as though when he looked around at his admiring fans, his eyes trained on you, staring through your soul with some feeling that wasn’t welcomed or unwanted either. Intrigue, that’s what it was. And when he flew off, everyone was left with a curiosity that sparked a great debate throughout the entire world. Who was this man? 

Well, the T.V. at the hotel identified him as Mysterio. Peter managed to make it back in one piece which you were able to celebrate in a brief moment outside before the voices of interested students and the television interrupted the moment. Betty and Ned were searching every website for some kind of clue but nothing other than what the news reported was to be taken as fact. It wasn’t aliens, it wasn’t witches, it was just another hero. 

So that was what you went with. That was until you opened your door to Fury sitting in a chair next to the window. 

“Oh my God!” You shrieked and Fury laughed, laughed, at you. 

“You scare too easy.” 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in spa-” 

The slight reveal of a green hand made you shut up. "Fury” tilted his head with a slight “Ah, well.” 

“Is this about that Mysterio guy?” 

“We’ve got him at a site. Says he’s from another Earth and that these creatures destroyed his own and intend to destroy this one too.” 

“Another Earth? So, the multiverse.. it’s real?” 

“Fury” didn’t respond to that, but he simply rose and gestured over his shoulder to the window. 

“There is a car outside. Go and wait in it while I go get Peter. The big man told me I need to scare the kid.” You smiled at the thought as the man left to go retrieve your brother. 

You had been part of the world of superheroes far longer than Peter had. You had been there when Loki first attacked New York way back when and that seemed like so many years ago. With the blip, it seems like an entire eternity. Nick never let you in on his secrets of his relationship with Carol Danvers, but you had met the Skrulls when you went on a mission three months ago to visit Monica Rambeau in space. Unlike her, you weren’t blessed with some badass powers, though she didn’t always have them. 

Peter looked terrified walking out to the car and when he saw you inside, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be alone. The site of S.H.I.E.L.D in Italy wasn’t far from where you had all taken up residence for the last day or two, but it was secluded, down in the catacombs of old buildings that no one would suspect. It reminded Peter of a Mission Impossible movie that you had watched with him before the two of you left for Europe, he felt more like a spy than a superhero in that moment. 

As you walked behind the two down the long corridors of the abandoned treasure that was used as a make-shift S.H.I.E.L.D, you were surprised to see Maria at a computer, though now knowing about Fury, you were sure it wasn’t even her. The center of the room was filled with scattered agents who you weren’t familiar with and then a projection in the middle of the room, along with the man without the helmet. 

You weren’t one for fawning over men. Jesus, you worked with Thor sometimes and while you were aware of his Godly looks, you never gawked. But this man, he wasn’t a God, he was just naturally beautiful. Dark hair, blueish-gray eyes that surely did pierce your soul, and a stature of a man who knew how to carry himself with power in the world. It was like he walked out of your dreams and into reality. 

“This is Mr. Beck.” Fury introduced you and Peter to the man. Mr. Beck approached Peter with a small smile and held out his hand. Peter looked nervous but responded with his own shake. 

“Mysterio?” 

“What?” 

“It’s just what my friends were calling you.” 

“Well, you can call me Quentin. You handled yourself well out there today. I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world.” 

Peter looked puzzled but Quentin looked behind the boy to you. He held out his hand with another smile which you returned. Maybe there was a shock when you touched hands, but you were sure it was just your imagination. 

“Y/n Parker, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

“It’s good to meet you, Y/n.” 

“Likewise.” 

Did time rush by faster when you were in the presence of someone you were obviously attracted to? Yes, because before you knew it, the night was over, and Fury was leading you and Peter back out to the car. Peter was absolutely smitten with Quentin and could hardly break conversation. The man gave the attention to Peter like Tony did. It was like life imitating itself in another time. Quentin reminded you so much of Tony. Smooth with words, handsome, gifted in almost an unfair way, and he took an interest in the last piece of close family you had. You wanted nothing more than for Peter to have a figure in his life to give him a positive purpose. With Tony gone, he’s struggled trying to find his niche again. 

“See you, kid.” Quentin looked disappointed but hopefully that his and Peter’s paths would cross again one day, even with Peter trying to avoid being identified by his class or the world. At some point, someone would figure it out if they hadn’t already. 

“Yeah, see you.” Peter said as he walked out, following Dimitri, who Fury ordered to keep Peter in check with you. You were more than capable of doing it yourself but for some reason, Fury felt the need to send another agent. 

“Good luck, Quentin.” You told him and he nodded his head, glancing at the holographic map of Venice next to him. 

“I fear I’ll need it. But I’m hopeful that the good luck will be for more than just winning this fight.”

Swoon. That’s what you did for the remainder of the night and into the early morning. You couldn’t sleep a wink after the revelations that Quentin relayed to you and Peter about the elementals. That worried you too. How in the world was Peter supposed to sit by while other heroes with indisposed and couldn’t help? Sam and Bucky were on their own missions, Carole and Monica were off, Stephen and Wanda were no use and Thor was off on his own adventures with that team of riff-raffs from space–you know, the one with the talking tree. 

But somewhere in all the jumble of thoughts, the scenery of the canal that had been a scene of something far different, calmed the noise. Enjoy the trip. This was the first time in years that you had traveled for something other than work and yet it was still filling every thought and moment. The thoughts were so loud and invasive that you didn’t register the person coming up to your right, ready to take the bag off your shoulders. You felt the tug and turned around, ready to punch the person but they dogged it, pulling it off your shoulder. It was a game of tug of war for the bag, but the person was strong. 

“Let go! I said let go!” You pulled as hard as you could, therefore the bag came flying back to you and its contents spread across the sidewalk. The person glanced at the wallet on the ground and then back at you before you both dove to the ground. They grabbed it first and you tackled them to the ground. Wrestling with grunts and yells, you hadn’t noticed the audience of one that rushed to help. A blast of green light shot the person off of you and you clutched the wallet to your chest tightly, trying to reel in your ragged breath. 

“I heard yelling from my hotel...” The hero started only to realize that it was you and with a turn of your head, you had realized it was him, Quentin. 

“Oh! Are you alright?” He extended a hand, which you readily took to stand. He then helped collect the scattered items and put them back in the now ripped bag before handing it back to you. 

“I’m fine. Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” There was a brief, awkward lull but you weren’t sure what else to say. 

“So, do you always wander around at night in a city you don’t know?” It was an icebreaker, a line that he knew would make you at least chuckle. 

“No... I just had a lot on my mind. What you told us in there–it’s a lot of information to retain.” 

“I’m sure an agent like you could handle it though.” You smiled bashfully at the compliment. Quentin gestured over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. You realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform anymore but just a pullover sweater and some dark jeans. How he shot the green light in the first place you didn’t know, but all heroes worked a little differently you suppose. 

“Would you like to take a walk? I promise I won’t try to steal your wallet.” 

“How do I know I can trust you?” The conversation was so light, and carefree that for the first time in a long time, you felt like a normal person. Quentin returned your cheeky smile and began walking. 

“I’m pretty sure a woman like you could figure out who trust and who not avoid. Isn’t that what they train you for? Agents?” 

“I suppose so, yes.” 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked Quentin and he looked at you with a nod of his head. 

“How did you know the elementals would turn up in our Earth?” 

“Intelligence. My wife, she had worked for our version of your agency. Before they came to destroy our city, one had already manifested itself in Mexico. It was as if there would be a pattern to follow. So when she passed, I used her intelligence to figure out where they might be, which led me here.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you, it’s been some time now. She would be glad to see Peter helping me, and you helping out with the cause.” 

“Peter really took a liking to you. I could see it in the way he could barely contain himself.” You laughed, changing the heavy subject to one more light. 

“He’s a good kid. You’re related I assume?” 

“My little brother.” 

“You should be proud of him. He is doing a lot of good for the world. I just wish he was more confident in his abilities to realize identity protect isn’t everything.” 

Quentin was right, it wasn’t everything. But it was more than identity for Peter. It was also no Tony to lead the way, his want to be a normal kid, his need to have friends and well, MJ to like him. But neither of you would know what it was like to be a teen hero, that was a lot of unneeded pressure. 

“It seems that I brought you around full circle.” The sound of Quentin’s voice broke the silence and the realization that you were outside the barely standing hotel. You sighed and tugged the bag on your shoulder. 

“Thanks for saving the day, Mysterio.” 

“Anything to help protect Agent Parker.” 

If you hadn’t just met him a few hours ago, you would have asked him to come upstairs but that was far too forward for the world you created for yourself, so you extended your hand as he had earlier. 

“May our paths cross again.” 

He grasped your hand tightly and agreed. 

“Hopefully under better circumstances.” 

You watched then as he walked away, unaware of the man underneath the facade of Mysterio. How he already knew who you were, knew all your secrets, and was ready to manipulate you to take down the institution that denied him success so many years ago. 

[ladyfogg]

King of Wands

King of Wands

Fic Summary: When you first started with the show, Jimmy asked for a reading but you turned him away because it wasn’t time. Now that he’s sitting in front of you and the cards are all laid out, it’s time to tell him exactly what his future holds. 

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Jimmy Darling/Female Reader

Warnings: Smut. Just, lots of smut. 

A/N: Look, thought of this and wrote it in the last two hours. Just needed to get this gem out of my brain. 

You’re a reader. 

A tarot reader that is. 

It started when you were a child and your grandmother passed away. She gifted you the set that belonged to her mother and hers before that. Your mother never bought into tarot cards and had refused the family heirloom. The moment those cards were placed in your hand, however, everything changed. 

You were obsessed, pouring over the little instructional book day after day, memorizing each card and what they meant. It wasn’t until you performed your first reading that you realized the obsession went far deeper than you ever realized. 

You began to see the cards just by looking at someone. You couldn’t explain it. It was subtle at first, just the card name floating through your mind. But then it became visual, sort of like when photographs were overlaid over each other. You knew exactly what card you would pull before you even started shuffling. And you were always right. 

It scared people. 

At first, you were labeled a fraud; shamed for a gift you had no control over. Then you were hated. People tended to get a bit cranky when you revealed their spouse was cheating on them or that you knew about the little money laundering scheme they had going on. But they were furious when you told them the depths of their character. They didn’t like when you peered into their soul and made them face the parts of themselves they kept locked away. 

One day, they stormed your house, ready to run you out of town. You barely had time to grab your grandmother’s cards before fleeing into the darkness. 

That’s when you met Elsa. And everything changed. See, she had heard about your gifts and had come to check you out herself. She was The Moon. You saw it the second you laid your eyes on her. Fear and anxiety, but full of intuition and illusions of grandeur. You liked her and you knew that you would be safe with her and her show. Though, you warned her that if she didn’t deal with her past trauma it would come back to bite her in the ass. 

She laughed at your boldness. 

That first night you slept more peacefully than you had in years. You were given a trailer, one that would act as your home and your workspace. For the first time in your life, you had a home that was all yours and you cherished it just as much as your grandmother’s cards. The house you lived in before with your parents never felt like home. Not since you started reading cards. 

You didn’t meet everyone until the next morning at breakfast. Bette and Dot certainly were an interesting pair. Dot seemed indifferent to your appearance, Bette was nice and overly curious about your cards. Ma Petite was the sweetest person you ever met and Eve was an Amazonian vision. You met the others as well, but they were the ones who took you under their wings and showed you the ropes. 

Well, them, and Jimmy. 

Jimmy Darling. 

From the moment he walked into the food tent you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Those deep brown eyes, curly hair, strong arms...he drove you to distraction. At least, that’s what you assumed it was when you didn’t see a card for him. You saw one for everyone else. In fact, the others insisted you read for them so they could see what you could do. 

You humored them, mostly because you wanted to impress your new friends but also because you wanted the practice. 

“What do you see?” Bette asked as drew three cards and laid them out before her and Dot. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Bette,” Dot said with her signature firm voice. “Tarot reading ain’t a skill. These people are just very perspective and use the cards as a way to swindle you.”

“You’re wrong and right,” you told her, still staring at your cards. “It’s a skill but most people do use it for personal gain. I however have nothing to gain other than getting these damn pictures out of my head.”

“What sort of pictures?” Bette asked. 

“The cards. I can look at a person and know exactly what card I’m going to pull.”

“What do you see when you look at me?”

You tap the first card. “The Sun Reversed. Means overly optimistic and feeling down. You need to let your inner child come out and play. Have some fun in your life, honey.”

Bette smiled while Dot rolled her eyes. “I try,” she said. “But she won’t let me have any fun.”

“If I let you have the fun you want, we’d get pregnant,” Dot said. 

You chuckled as you kept looking. “Next card is The Lovers Reversed. You don’t love yourself or respect yourself.”

At that, Bette's face fell and she pursed her lips together. 

“You’re facing a tough choice with significant consequences,” you continued, now looking directly at her and not the cards. "Stop punishing yourself. Whatever you did, those consequences are behind you now, and dwelling on it isn’t going to change what happened.”

You tap the last card, still maintaining eye contact as you watch the card of Death appear behind Bette's head like the backdrop on a stage. “Something will be coming to an end. There’s a transition on the horizon and if you don’t deal with what’s in here,” you tap her chest where her heart is. “Then you’ll be blind to the opportunities in front of you.”

“Horseshit,” Dot muttered. “All of that was general. Nothing specific that would apply to either of us.”

“Those cards weren’t for you,” you told her, tearing your eyes away from Bette who was chewing on her nail in thought. “Those were for Bette. I don’t draw cards for people who don’t want them.”

“Well fine then, draw one for me,” Dot said, her voice tinged with challenge. “What card do you see for me?”

“Five of Swords.” You draw the next card in the deck, laying the Five of Swords right in front of her. “The recent battle you fought cost you more than you realize. It cost you trust, respect, and dignity. Moving forward is going to be more difficult than you thought. You should probably decide whether your point of view is so important to you that you’re willing to put your closest and ONLY relationship in jeopardy.”

Dot is unimpressed while Bette covers her smile with her hand. “Obviously you stacked the deck,” Dot accused. “I bet if another card were chosen you’d say something completely different.”

“Well, obviously. But another card won’t be chosen.” You shrugged and gathered all the cards, tucking them back into the deck which you then handed to her. “Shuffle yourself.”

With Bette's help, Dot shuffled the deck, twisting cards multiple times and being a lot rougher with the ancient set than you were comfortable with. You winced at the way she treated them, making a mental note to buy a set that your clients could handle instead of using your personal one. 

Dot slammed the deck down on the table and waited. You smirked and gestured for her to draw a card. 

The Five of Swords gleamed in the light of the tent. Dot's face hardened and she abruptly stood. “We have practice to get to. We don’t have time to sit around listening to a charlatan,” she declared. 

Unfazed, you scooped up the deck and gently shuffled. “Whatever you say, grumpy.”

She stalked off, barely giving Bette a chance to wave goodbye. 

Jimmy took her place at the seat across from you. he looked incredibly amused. “Day one and you’re already making friends,” he teased. “That was some reading. I saw the others you did too. Seems like you know your stuff.”

You smiled at him but your smile faded when you suddenly realized, you couldn’t see any card. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. All you saw was him. 

Jimmy placed his hands on the table expectantly. “Alright, tarot reader. Tell me my future.”

“Sorry, I can’t.” You had never met someone who didn’t have a card and you suddenly worried that something was wrong with you. 

“Ah, hey, that’s not fair,” he said. “I deserve a reading just like everyone else. Come on, doll face. What do you see?”

You considered the situation as you shuffled the card, with such ease and skill it was like the cards were floating between your hands and fingers. “It’s not your time for a reading,” you declared. “Sorry, Jimmy. Maybe some other time.”

As you stood up, Jimmy leaned back in his seat with a smirk. “Playing hard to get, sugar? That’s alright. I’m a patient man. I can wait.”

The circus became the place where you finally belonged. Everyone became family and over the years, your talent and act grew. Soon, your grandmother’s cards were only one of the twelve sets you used. You did most of your work while people were waiting for the show to start. Your trailer was set just next to the main tent so those in line or waiting could come in for a reading. You made decent money too, which of course went right back into the circus to help everyone. 

Your powers grew as your act did. Soon you could see and learn things about someone that you couldn’t possibly know otherwise. The cards helped get things started but once you were deep in a reading, everything else came right from your own mind. 

Every time someone tried to find a way to indicate you were cheating them, you made changes. At first, they said it was because you stacked the deck, so you started having them pick which one they wanted you to use. Then they said you cheated because you could see which one they picked right away and somehow used that the cheat, so you wrapped every deck in the same identical black silk cloth. 

The table was left bare. No books or anything else during readings. You didn’t need the books anymore anyway since you knew each deck by heart. The person would sit and you saw the images just as clearly as you saw them. 

Except for Jimmy. He was the one and only person who never had a card. It annoyed you but eventually, you came to cherish it. Because when you two were together, all you saw was him. You never got distracted by the pictures. Over time, you and Jimmy became close friends. 

Often after a show, the two of you would sit outside and look at the stars, talking for hours. Your feelings for him grew, but you kept them to yourself. He was the first friend you ever had and you didn’t want to mess up the friendship by telling him how you felt. 

Of course, the universe had other plans. As it often did. 

It was nearly five years later and you were in your trailer, cleaning up for the evening when there was a sharp knock on the door. Not expecting anyone, you frowned and peeked out the curtained window before opening the door.

Jimmy stood on the steps, hands on his hips and jaw clenched. You immediately knew something was wrong and stepped aside to let him in. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, heading to the small kitchenette to pour him some tea you had just made yourself. 

“Oh, you know, the usual. Being called freaks and getting shit thrown at us,” Jimmy grumbled as he paced. “I get so fucking tired of it. We deserve to be treated with respect just like everyone else. And no matter how hard we try they never fucking see that.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I know how much this weighs on you. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“Why do you stay with us?” 

His question made you look over at him with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you could go anywhere you want. Do your act for yourself. Why do you stay here?”

For you.

“This is my home and my family, where else would I go?”

He collapsed into your kitchen chair. “You deserve more, you know. Someone—” He caught himself and paused. “Something else. Something better.”

You turned around to tell him that you had no intention of going anywhere when your vision was assaulted by bright lights and the image of the King of Wands. It was so sudden and unexpected that you gasped, letting the teacup slip from your fingers and shatter on the floor. The moment you staggered backward, Jimmy was out of his seat with his arms around your waist to catch you. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, doll face. Don’t wanna bump that pretty head of yours,” he said. “You alright?”

Grabbing his biceps to steady yourself, you shut your eyes and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just give me a minute.”

This was the first time in your entire friendship that the two of you touched. Sure there was an occasional handhold or pat on the knee, but he had never put his arms around you and, in truth, it was the best feeling in the world. Unable to stop yourself, you stepped into the embrace, burying your face in his neck. Jimmy held you tight, his nose in your hair. You were so close you could hear his heart racing and when his hand made a slow trail down your spine, you shuddered. 

“Take all the time you need, darlin’. I ain’t complaining.”

You smiled and pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “It’s time for your reading.”

He quirked his eyebrow in amusement. “That what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

Laughing, you reluctantly stepped out of his arms and patted him on the chest. “I’m serious. I can finally see your card.”

“Hot damn. Must be my lucky day.”

You stepped over the broken cup, too focused on other things to care. As you took your seat, you waved to the shelf with your cards. “Take your pick.”

No longer angry, Jimmy looked incredibly amused at the change of events. “You’ve got a strange definition of foreplay, but I’ll play along.”

You rolled your eyes in amusement as he walked up to the shelf, hands shoved in his pockets. He was as handsome as he ever was. His looks only improved with time and the white sleeveless shirt and finely tailored pants helped a great deal. Often you had to stop yourself from just staring at him. Unless he was on stage. Then, you tucked yourself in the back and watched him with shameless love and affection in your soul. 

It took him a while to pick a deck, but when he did, he gingerly plucked it off the shelf and sat down with it. 

“Unwrap the cards and shuffle,” you told him. 

“I love it when you get all bossy.”

“For Christ’s sake, Jimmy, just shuffle the damn cards.”

He chuckled, placing the cards on the table and carefully undoing the ribbon that bound them. When the cloth fell away, you found yourself staring at your grandmother’s cards. They almost never were picked nowadays. Truthfully, you were the only one to use them in the last two or so years. 

“So what card do you see for me, doll face?” Jimmy asked, shuffling the deck. His hands fumbled a few times but eventually, he got the hang of it. 

“The King of Wands.”

Jimmy smirked. “I know I’m good in bed but damn, I didn’t know I was a king.”

“Not that wand, Jimmy. Well...maybe that wand but I don’t know yet. Just shuffle and draw a card.”

“Why now?” He kept his eyes on you as he shuffled. “We’ve known each other five years and you never gave me a reading. The one time I asked, you said it wasn’t time.”

“You know it’s because I didn’t see a card for you.”

“Yeah, but why do you see one now?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Jimmy placed the deck down and drew a card. 

The High Priestess. No. No, that’s not right. You’ve never been wrong in your entire life. A chill ran down your spine and you frowned as you looked at the card. Jimmy’s card wasn’t the High Priestess. 

“Looks like you were wrong, sugar,” Jimmy said. “That’s weird. I’ve never known you to be wrong.”

“That’s because I’m not. Draw another card.”

“Darlin’, it’s okay—”

“Humor me, Jimmy. Just draw again.”

Jimmy shrugged and drew another card, placing it next to the first. The Lovers. “Still not the King of Wands,” he said. “Look, it’s been a long day. I’m sure after doing all those readings you’re bound to be a little off.”

“Draw one more.” Jimmy said your name softly but you just shook your head. “Draw again, Jimmy.”

Jimmy sighed and drew another card and your heart lept. The King of Wands.

“There you are you sneaky bastard,” you said. “Now what the hell…” You cut yourself off when you realized what the cards meant. Images and sounds came rushing to you all at once and suddenly, you started laughing. Full on, deep belly, laughing. 

Jimmy looked bewildered. “Have you lost your damn mind? What’s so funny?”

“You just gave me a reading.”

“Come again?”

You point to him. “You, Jimmy Darling, just read MY tarot cards.”

“But I ain’t no card reader.” 

“Tonight you are apparently. See, this card is yours.” You point to the King of Wands before tapping the High Priestess. “And this one is mine.”

Jimmy looked down at the three cards. The High Priestess, The Lovers, and the King of Wands. His face broke out in a wide smile. “Well, shit,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Looks like we have a long night ahead of us.”

The both of you were out of your seats in the blink of an eye. When your lips finally met for the first time, it was like your world exploded. Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire and that only amplified times a thousand when Jimmy got his hands on you. He pulled at your shirt, tugging it out of your skirt so he could reach underneath. You gasped into his mouth the moment his skin made contact with yours and he groaned in response, palming your braless breasts with a rough squeeze. 

“Fuck,” you swore. “Jimmy, I want you so fucking bad.”

“Oh, you’ll have me, doll face. All of me.”

He backed you against the wall of the trailer, mouth devouring yours like he was the hungriest man alive and you were the best meal he ever had. Teeth clashed together in your excitement and you were sure your lips were going to be swollen by the end of the night. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he went on, yanking your skirt up to bunch around your waist. His hands grabbed your thighs, giving them an excited squeeze as he yanked you against his chest. “You drive me damn crazy, woman. Always have. Seeing you walking around with this body and this mouth. The things I’ve wanted to do to you. Lost count of how many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you.”

You whimpered at his words, wet with arousal and lust. “Show me.”

Jimmy pulled back to give you that damn irresistible smirk of his. “Kinky. I like that.”

You tugged on his belt, undoing it and pulling it from the loops. “You have no idea, baby.”

Jimmy growled deep in his throat, giving you another kiss before taking over the task of ridding himself of his pants. God, he was magnificent. Long and thick and begging for your touch or mouth. Or both. Jimmy placed a hand on the wall by your head, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he started stroking himself. You wanted to look since that was the whole point, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from those dark brown ones. 

You’d never seen eyes like his. They pierced into your very soul and saw you for who you truly were. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he panted. “You said you wanted me to show you. The least you could do is look.”

So you looked. 

Fuck it was hot. Seeing his hand wrapped around his cock, jerking himself off for you, was more than you could handle. You dropped to your knees, pushing his hands away and taking the tip of him into your mouth. 

Jimmy’s hand fell to your head and he swore out your name followed by a loud, drawn-out, “Fuuuuck!”

It took you a moment to get a good rhythm going. Truth be told, you were severely out of practice. Ever since you saw Jimmy, you hadn’t wanted anyone else. You flirted every now and then with a client, but it never went further because you knew none of them would match up to him. 

You sucked Jimmy off eagerly, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the heady taste of him. He moaned and grunted, urging you on with words of encouragement. You always loved his voice and could listen to him sing for hours. But this was a different kind of song. This was one you knew you couldn’t live without. His hips thrust along with your mouth, burying himself as far into your throat as he could go. 

“Shit, doll face. Why the fuck haven’t we been doing this this whole time?” he groaned, tugging on your hair. “You better stop before this is over embarrassingly soon.”

Pulling off him with a pop, you dragged your tongue along the length of him before smirking. “Thought you would have more stamina than that, Jimmy-boy.”

He yanked you up onto your feet and shoved you back against the wall. “Oh trust me, darlin’. I have plenty.”

His mouth covered yours again as his hand disappeared under your skirt. Jimmy’s hands had drawn your attention but not for the reasons he would have thought. Even when he was self-conscious about them, you admired them. You had heard plenty of stories about his sexual exploits and wished that one day you would experience what he could do. 

He rubbed you through your panties, drawing a gasp out of you as he filled your mouth with his tongue before biting your bottom lip as he pulled away. Jimmy wanted eye contact when he slid his hand under that soft fabric, his finger gently making contact with your clit before he pressed down hard. You shouted in surprise, lust coursing through your veins instantly. 

“You’re already wet, baby,” Jimmy cooed, placing the gentlest of kisses on your neck as he continued to draw hard circles around your clit. “Sure know how to stoke a man’s ego.”

“It’s all you, Jimmy,” you panted, already breathless and eager. “It’s only ever been you.”

He paused, gaze softening. “Ever?”

“Well, not ever ever but definitely since the day we met.”

A second later, his finger slid inside you and with a gasp you grabbed his shoulders, arching your back in a futile attempt to draw yourself closer to him. He smashed his mouth against yours, kissing away what little breath you had and making your knees buckle. Dear lord, he was magnificent. His thick finger stretched you better than you ever thought possible, certainly better than your own had. And if you were this worked up from his hand alone, you couldn’t wait for his cock. 

Jimmy rested his forehead against yours, watching your face as he pleasured you. Your eyes stayed closed but you could still feel the stare, sense his smile as your breaths mingled together. When he leaned against you, you could feel the hardness of his cock. Teasingly, you raised your leg to press your thigh against it and he groaned as precum leaked onto your skin. 

“Fuck me, Jimmy,” you begged shamelessly. 

“Oh, I will, doll face. Once you cum first.”

It didn’t take long for him to make that happen. Just a few more deep strokes and you convulsed against him, still trapped between his body and the wall. Stars exploded behind your eyelids and as you threw your head back, Jimmy latched onto your neck, sucking greedily. He was still at it when you came back down from your high. 

“You’re gonna leave a mark,” you slurred, reaching down to grab his wrist so he’d give you a second to recover. His finger slipped out but he kept his hand on your thigh, his thumb stroking the soft flesh. 

“That’s the plan.”

Laughing softly, you dragged your eyes open when he pulled away, only to be met with the beautiful sight of a disheveled and red-cheeked Jimmy Darling. 

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” you said. 

“I take it you don’t own a mirror. Because you’re far more beautiful than I am.”

“Actually, I do. In the bedroom.” You smirked and nodded over your shoulder to the beaded curtain that separated your sleeping space from the rest of the trailer. “Wanna take a look?”

“Been waiting for you to ask that for years.”

Giggling like school children, you grabbed Jimmy’s hand and pulled him into the room. He stepped out of his shoes and pants along the way, leaving them behind. Your room could barely be called that. It didn’t have space for anything other than your bed and a few decorations on the wall. One of which was a large ornate mirror you had found at an antique shop some time ago. Its bronzed frame shone in the moonlight that filtered in through the tiny window.

Jimmy admired it briefly, staring at your reflection as you climbed onto the bed. “Clothes off, doll face,” he said, yanking his shirt off. “Let me finally see all of you.”

You stripped slowly and deliberately, taking off each layer with careful movements if for no other reason than to give Jimmy the show he deserved. When you were finally, naked, he let out a strangled moan, reaching down to touch himself again. “Fucking hell, you’re just a pretty as I always thought you were.”

“I’m even prettier up close.” You spread your legs for him as you settled against the mound of pillows behind you. 

Grinning, Jimmy climbed onto the bed, crawling towards you with catlike grace. As you leaned up for a kiss, he granted your desire, cupping your cheek to hold you there for a moment. A second later, his hand grasped your neck and he shoved you onto your back before burying his face between your legs. 

His roughness thrilled you right down to your core, which he drank from excitedly. Those lips. That mouth. You knew he had a quick tongue but fuck you never knew how quick it was. He had you soaked from his spit in no time, his tongue switching between flicking at your clit and licking slow stripes along your seam. The teasing didn’t last long. He was too worked up and ready for more. His finger slid into you again as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. 

“Jesus, Jimmy!” you exclaimed, clamping your thighs around his head and burying your hands in that wonderfully curly hair. “Baby, you have no idea what you do to me.”

He drew back just enough to smirk up at you. “I’ve got some idea.” 

His fingers and hand were drenched in your arousal and you weren’t even the least bit ashamed about it. After all these years, to finally be able to touch him and have him touch you was too much to handle. You were never one to play coy and you sure as hell weren’t going to start now. 

“Fuck me already!”

“So damn impatient,” Jimmy teased, still fingering you as he kissed your inner thigh. “You really want it that bad, don’t you?”

You yanked his hair so his eyes met yours. “You do too. I know it.”

Eyes dancing with lust, Jimmy’s hand slipped out from between your legs. He crawled up the rest of your body and pulled you into a harsh kiss. You could taste yourself on him and a sense of possessiveness washed over you. It disappeared and was replaced by instant pleasure a second later when he pushed his cock into you. 

You both groaned so loud, you knew the others could hear you outside. 

Jimmy took you so hard, you could feel the trailer rocking along with his trusts. Not that you minded. Nope. Quite the opposite. You wanted more. You wanted all of him, everything he could give. Five years was too damn long to hold back. You never felt so stretched and full before. The world around you melted away and all you were left with was Jimmy finally claiming your body for himself. 

“Perfect. Such a good girl,” he praised into your ear, his hips jerking against yours with a hard steady rhythm. “Always knew you’d take it well. All mine now, darlin’. No one else gets this sweet pussy but me, we understand?”

“Only you, Jimmy,” you cooed, more than happy to give yourself to him completely. On one condition. You grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you. “And you’re mine.”

He grinned. “If you say so.”

You pushed against him until he sat back on his heels and you were able to climb onto his lap. He slid back into you with ease as you rode him, his hands gripping your ass so tight you knew he’d leave marks. Jimmy turned his head and it was your turn to attack his neck with kisses and love bites. You saw how women looked at him, you weren’t stupid. When they saw the way you marked him, they wouldn’t look anymore. Not if they knew what was good for them. 

“We look good, doll face,” he panted, watching your reflections in the mirror. “Like we were made for each other.”

You pressed your cheek against his and also watched, your bodies grinding and writhing, begging for sweet release. “We were.”

You came not too long after, too tired and worked up to hold back. Jimmy fucked you through it, biting his lip as his own orgasm overtook him. With a groan, he threw his head back and came inside you, filling you up with his release until he was spent and both slumped against each other panting. 

Sloppy kisses were exchanged as Jimmy laid the both of you down. You remained in your sweaty, tangled embrace, neither one of you wanting to pull away now that you could finally touch each other. Even when you caught your breath, you stayed there, you stroking Jimmy’s chest and him running his fingers through your hair. 

“You never told me what my card meant,” he said after some time had passed. His voice was soft from fatigue and he sounded more relaxed than he had been in days. 

“The King of Wands represents pure, fiery energy. He’s a natural-born leader, a visionary. But doesn’t go forward alone. He’s all about caring for those around him and enlisting their help to realize his vision. He’s someone who’s here to leave a legacy.”

“Hmm,” Jimmy hummed in amusement. “I like the sound of that.”

“You create your own destiny. You create the outcome you want. Now, the only question is, what is it you want?”

Jimmy smiled down at you, reaching up to cup your cheek. “Already got what I want right here, sugar.”

With a smile, you kissed him. The both of you remained that way for some time, each kiss getting softer and gentler, until you both fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

[aperfecttimeforscreaming]

10 reasons why a poorly adjusted adult Dib is a Valid headcanon

1. Dib is/was a neglected child

Dib doesn’t have a parent that he can lean on and go talk to for advice, his father is frequently out of the picture and doesn’t give a shit about the thing that Dib cares about. Dib is actively encouraged by his neglectful father to give up on it, actually. I believe this would make Dibs stubborn streak really bitter and spiteful. Most people reading this are LGBTQ+, I assume I don’t need to explain how a fucked up an isolated upbringing, or being unable to be yourself around a parent, hurts you in the long run. 

2. Dib is bullied for the things he is passionate about, and being bullied heavily colours your perception of other people 

The world of Invader Zim is not kind, Dib is frequently harassed by his classmates/superiors/family for his outbursts/lectures/overall investigator shtick. 

Now you might say “but, Screaming, wouldn’t Dib learn to tone it down as he got older?” and YEAH. Probably! But does that mean that he would just forgive all the people that made his life horrible before that point? Or who socially ostracized him for the things he’d done in the past? No. No one is under any  obligation to forgive anyone who hurt them, and I think Dib wouldn’t even try to forgive someone he saw as intellectually inferior 

3. Dib is a selfish rich kid

Dib is selfish. He wants to be the protector of earth- but he doesn’t do it for earths sake. He’s clearly doing it as a cry for attention/ a reason to eventually be vindicated for being spit on by his own kind.  I don’t think he would have genuine empathy for other people. If he did have it, it’d have to be something he had to work really hard at. However, I don’t see Dib putting much effort into understanding other humans. 

Dib is rich (probably). This one being more of a headcanon- in the series Dib wants for no material object, he wastes technology on his explorations like it’s something he can just pick up from the dollar store, his father is a world renowned scientist with access to crazy technology and the ears of world leaders. I think he’d feel entitled to one or two things 

4. Gaz is not her brothers keeper. 

She’s not responsible for his mental health, she’s not responsible for keeping him in line and “normal”. Most of the time she doesn’t want a damn thing to do with him. If we’re going by the standards of the IZ tv show, the only times that Gaz interfered with Dibs paranormal investigations were when Professor M. Was also involved. Either she wanted to see her dad and Dibs antics were getting in the way (forcing her to intervene), or she was directly ordered by their dad to keep Dib out of trouble.  Sure, you could argue that she would beat the shit out of Dib for doing something she didn’t like- but that wouldn’t “fix” the mind of a very stubborn person. It might even make them dig their heels in even deeper out of spite and bitterness as a “fuck you I’m right you’re wrong” 

Furthermore, as Gaz gets older she’s going to have her own life to worry about and might stop tolerating the way Prof. M uses her as a middle man to deal with his “poor insane son”. She’s under no obligation to fix any of the phases Dibs life might go through. If Dib was unpleasant enough, and Gaz had the resources to leave, I think she might just bail on him. 

5. Dib is arrogant 

He's gonna do what he thinks is the best course of action unless you physically stop him from doing so. He comes from a place of thinking that he is right, the opinion of anyone else is secondary. Dib will do “what needs to be done” for “the greater good”. Whatever he thinks that “good” is. He wants to play the white knight at any cost. He cannot be in the wrong, or that bravado towards being righteous in the end crumbles. I think Dib would subscribe to a “the ends justify the means” mentality

6. Dib would harm another person to get what he wanted

In a room with a moose, Dib debates letting himself die just to take his entire class down with him. In the unaired episode “return of Keef”, he co-operates with Zim in an attempt to make Keef explode, because he thinks Keef is irritating. Dib used Gaz to test out an ancient spell book, cursed Gaz to only taste pork, and then only helped fix the problem when threatened with physical violence. This could be the kind of thinking that gets worse over time as more people mock his attempts to save and protect them. Why care about people that don’t even give a shit if they live or die?  Dib is a smart fringe personality in his world, and the otherness that he feels for that could lead to a sociopathic way of thinking if things went bad enough 

7. Dib does not care about other peoples personal space

Dib hides cameras in Zims house. Dib ran right past the front gate at NASA Place, Dib chased a baby big foot up a radio tower. Dib bullied Zim physically on the playground using his known weaknesses against him. Dib would do anything to get the evidence he needed to prove what he wanted to prove, and that would get him in trouble. Repeatedly

8. Antisocial tendencies (like spending countless hours fused to a chair, or most of your young adult life spent hunched over a desk at a computer screen) make it difficult to smoothly socially integrate, and the world of Invader Zim is fuckin' mean

You know the world he comes from is mean. However, assuming Dib did find community somewhere, who’s to say they would agree with him? Or like him? Maybe one of them would cause problems for him that were bad enough he’d have to leave. I’ve always found that the IZ portrayal of earth to be like this funny cynical parody of a dystopian police state america. If we’re going by “what can go wrong will go wrong”, Dibs social integration wouldn’t get easier without a bunch of effort on Dibs part. Maybe Dib would have to pretend to be somebody unlike himself just to get by in his day to day adult life. If we see Dibs country of residence as a police state, the world Dib grows up in would encroach heavily on his personal privacy, and that might make him even stranger via paranoia 

9. Sadistic tendencies towards anything paranormal (obsessed with the act of dominating and exposing the unknown)

Dib is a fucking jerk to Zim (rightfully so), but Dib is a dick to pretty much every supernatural thing he comes across. Either out of an excess of enthusiasm, or using a supernatural being to further his own plans, or from an invasion of privacy, or being an irritant to the entity he’s dealing with. He LIKES to be mean to them.  He  wishes to have mastery over knowing how they work. (maybe it’s more fair to say Dib is a voyeur?)  

This is more headcanon than anything, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to say he might also want to control the paranormal for his own purposes. If Dib could say- catch a ghost in a jar so he could show it to everyone, he’d do it. If he could trick a werewolf into transforming on stage in front of a large audience? He’d do that.

10. Dib is created to be Zims equal

Dib is as “evil” as Zim is and vice versa. Neither of them is good, or pure, or morally justified. It’s a nice little grey dynamic. Both characters think they’re entirely in the right when they act. That they often aren’t in the right is fun because then you get to write/draw/ think about how they’d react to the consequences. Dib could still totally be a hero in his own mind, despite setting an apartment block on fire to flush out a coven of litches.

The reverse of this is also true, Zim can do nice things, and occasionally be good as Dib can be good. I figure the Zim/Dib dynamic changes for everyones interpretations at least somewhat. Having Zims terrible actions rub off on Dib as their battles escalate is a really fun way to go about exploring their relationship 

11. I like the it

There is no right or wrong way to enjoy a cartoon character! Live to make yourself happy in fandom! If you ever thought you needed permission to create rancid content, I’m sorry you felt pressured not to do it. 

You want to make a serial killer Dib?? You want to make a basement dwelling depressed zit covered Dib?? You want to make a Dib who struggles with his trauma through substance abuse?? Go HAM!! 

[mmvalentine]

But You pt 7 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 The smut continues! Honestly I get so carried away this could have been a one shot. You've been warned.

The gallery where Feyre's paintings hung was throwing an honest to goodness ball.

At first she had thought it was pretentious, but then Rhys had actually been excited. In sixteen-odd years of knowing Rhys, in her one year of living with him in their cosy little townhouse, she had never seen him excited for a social event. Not once.

So she brought out the black, backless dress she had impulsively bought for that one gala a couple of years back, and watched with endless amusement as Rhys primped and peacocked for over an hour in the bathroom. They were almost late. By the time got his hair and bowtie just so, Feyre was holding the door open and yelling to the taxi that they'd be right there. Rhys emerged in a haze of hair spray and cologne, took one look at her, and pushed it closed again.

"Feyre you looks absolutely delicious," he said, trapping Feyre against the door. His hands remained on the wood on either side of her face, and his bedroom eyes burned into her as they dragged down her body. Back up. Caught on her breasts, and then on her mouth.

"Rhys, we really do have to go," Feyre said. Rhys bent his elbows, pushed a thigh between her legs and ran his teeth over her throat. "We will," Rhys assured her. "In a minute."

His hands found the slit in her skirt and trailed up the inside of her bare leg. When he discovered she wasn't wearing any underwear, he froze on the spot. Then a feline grin spread over his face. "Wicked creature," he purred. "Pretending to be all business-like when secretly..." He stroked a finger over the centre of her, and her core clenched in response.

"I just didn't want a panty-line," she tried to explain, gasping as Rhys' hand moved. "No objections here," Rhys said, and ghosted his lips over hers. "I'm wearing make-up," Feyre protested weakly. "I just want one little taste," Rhys whispered. "You'll get lipstick on you." "I won't," Rhys argued, and then dropped to his knees and with no warning at all licked a stripe up between her legs. Sucked her clit into his mouth and tongue-kissed it until Feyre's legs started to give.

Then he stood again, straightened her skirts, and smoothed a hand over his hair.

"Well we'd better not keep the driver waiting any longer," he said smoothly, and held his arm out for Feyre to take. She gaped at him. "Come now, my dear, you can't be late when you're one of the artists."

She looped her arm though his, and let him walk her to the taxi in a daze. He held the door for her, and when he slid in next to her she said, "You're a bully, you know that?"

Rhys smirked. "Leave you wanting, did I?" "Started things you couldn't finish, more like," Feyre huffed. Rhys' eyes brightened. "I'll have you know that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to." He hugged her closer to him on the seat. Smoothed a hand down her leg, and found that slit in her dress. Stroked up the inside of her thigh.

"Of course, I don't intend to make this evening about myself," he said conversationally. While his fingers found her entrance.

"I more than anyone know how hard you've worked for this exhibition." The volume of her black skirts over the dark sleeve of his jacket meant the driver wouldn't be able to see anything if he happened to glance back. But Feyre blushed a deep scarlet anyway.

"I mean, you've always enjoyed a bit of exhibition, haven't you darling?" Rhys went on. His fingers dipped in just enough to feel the slickness there, and then slipped up toward her clit. "It's always important for an artist to be able to be in the public eye, I think."

He rubbed slow, wet circles over her clit, and Feyre's hands tightened on the seat.

"Of course, some prefer to labour in silence," Rhys said. "What do you think, Feyre? Could you work unnoticed? Can you stay quiet?" "I... um..." Feyre stammered. Rhys' fingers sped up. "Oh I know, so typical of artists to have difficult speaking about themselves. That's the paradox, isn't it?"

And then he plunged two fingers right up inside her. Feyre bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying out.

"Say driver," Rhys said casually. As he fucked her with his fingers. "How far away do you think we might be from the venue?"

The driver looked up at his rearview mirror, and Feyre forced her features into neutrality. Pretended to cough as the heel of Rhys' palm pressed against her clit.

"I think we're coming up on it now," the driver said. "Oh excellent," Rhys replied. And then sure enough, they were pulling over and Rhys was withdrawing his hand. Feyre whimpered and squeezed her now very empty thighs together.

Rhys got out of the cab and rounded the other side. Opened Feyre's door.

"Why Feyre, you look a little flushed. Are you feeling alright?"

Feyre just nodded, and let Rhys help her out of the taxi.

That cab ride more or less set the tone for the evening. Rhys stuck by her side like glue, and was always touching her some way or another. While they mingled and met patrons and other artists, Rhys kept a warm hand on her bare back and stroked over her skin. Nails on her spine. Finger tips above her tailbone.

When they sat down to listen to speeches, Rhys' hand sat on her knee, drawing circles there, never stilling. Every so often he'd lean over, and brush his lips over the curve of her ear.

Finally, the string quartet sat down and everyone was called to dance, and with no hesitation Rhys swept her up on her feet and into his arms. Where he held her tight enough against his body that she could feel the press of his erection in her abdomen.

"You are driving me absolutely insane," Rhys murmured. I'm driving you insane? Feyre wanted to say. Instead, she asked, "Where did you learn to dance?" "Brazil, probably, maybe, I don't know. I don't know anything right now except that I think I have to get you home immediately." "Rhys we just got here." "Yes yes, we came, we looked amazing, we can leave now, right?"

At that moment, a man whom Feyre recognised as one of the other exhibiting artists tapped Rhys on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," he said, with a beautiful smile. "May I cut in?" "No," Rhys said curtly, and whirled Feyre away, leaving her to mouth "Sorry," and give the man her most apologetic expression as he stood there looking shocked and a little confused.

"Well that was rude," Feyre scolded. "Do I look like I give a flying fuck?" Rhys asked. "When you are in that dress, no one else is touching you, not even to shake your hand. You are mine." "That's so funny," Feyre crooned. She shifted her hips against the hardness pushing into her belly, and watched with satisfaction as Rhys suppressed a shudder. "Here I thought you were mine."

Rhys hid his face in the crook of Feyre's neck. "Of course I am," he breathed. "Of course." "Well then," Feyre said, and stepped away. Rhys frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but Feyre took his hand and led him away. Out of the ballroom, down a corridor, and through a door that she had to open with a keycode.

"Where are we?" Rhys asked, looking around. Rows and rows of large, rectangular canvases lay on their sides. "The archives," Feyre said. "This is where they keep the artworks that aren't currently on display. I have the current code because I have a couple of paintings down here, but it changes every week."

Rhys looked back at her with half a crooked smile.

"And what are we doing here in the archives, Feyre darling?"

Feyre pushed him back against the wall, and when his back thudded audibly the grin stretched wide. "You're finishing what you started is what," Feyre snarled. "Yes ma'am," Rhys breathed, and turned them so their positions were reversed and it was Feyre backed up against the wall. Feyre leaned forward to kiss him, but Rhys pulled away.

"Careful dear," he said. "Wouldn't want to ruin your pretty lipstick."

He grabbed her hips and spun her around. Feyre's hands hit the wall, and Rhys pushed this thigh between her knees to widen them. He pulled her skirts open at the side slit, and put his fingers in his mouth before he slid them into her. Feyre groaned.

"Is this what you wanted?" Rhys asked. "Is this what you've been thinking about all evening?" But Feyre shook her head. "More," she gasped. "More?" Rhys echoed. He slid another finger into her, earning a second, louder moan. Pumped her already soaking pussy. "More," Feyre begged again, and this time Rhys unbuckled his belt and pushed himself into her.

Feyre's knees unlocked, even as she arched her back to get him in deeper. Rhys paused there for a moment, breathing hard, then pulled out and pushed in deeper. Did it one more time and he was seated to the hilt.

"Is that what you needed?" Rhys murmured. He stroked his hands over the bare skin of her back, his rough callouses raising goosebumps in their wake. Feyre smirked at the wall, and licked her lips.

"More," she said, and Rhys growled low in his throat as he gripped her hips in his hands and fucked her relentlessly from behind.

After a whole evening of teasing, it didn't take long for Feyre to come apart. She tried to keep it quiet, but Rhys pounded into her so hard that stars burst before her eyes and no part of her body was in her control. She just had to hope that they were far away enough from the crowd, and that the music was loud enough that the would go unnoticed. After all, she wasn't the only one with the keycode.

When Rhys' hand slid down in front of her to slide over her clit, Feyre's climax was a live thing between them. It burned through her, until she was leaning her hot face against the cool of the wall.

"God you're beautiful when you come," Rhys murmured. He had slowed down as Feyre's orgasm faded, but was now speeding up again, building toward his own release. Feyre let him, for about ten seconds. Then she pushed him away.

Rhys scrabbled to pull her in again. "Where are you going?" he grumbled. But Feyre just smoothed her skirts down and leaned back against the wall.

"You can't come in here Rhys," she said, with mocking concern in her eyes. "These are precious artworks and I am wearing a nice dress."

Rhys just opened and closed his mouth, his erection still sticking out of his open pants.

"Hurry now and put that away," she said with a glance down. "We're at a formal function for goodness' sakes." And with that, she swept toward the door, leaving Rhys to fumble with his button and trot helplessly after her.

"Gods," he muttered, as they made their way back into the main hall. "This why other people are never fucking worth it. Let's get out of here." He made to grab Feyre's hand, but she yanked it out of his reach.

"But Rhys darling, this is a very big event for me, there are still people I have to meet." Rhys groaned loudly and gnashed his teeth at her. She ignored this, and continued to torture him for a good fifteen more minutes before graciously agreeing to leave.

They made out in the taxi all the way home, Rhys tipped the driver generously in apology before Feyre dragged him in through the front door. They didn't make it to the bedroom. Feyre got about half way up the stairs before Rhys grabbed her ass, flipped her skirt up and started eating her out from behind.

Feyre dropped to her knees, hands on the steps in front of her, and was just starting to climax in his mouth when Rhys replaced his tongue with his cock and fucked her until his cum was running down the backs of her legs.

They collapsed there, until eventually Rhys went to fetch a towel to clean up and then carried Feyre up to bed. Carefully helped her out of her ridiculous dress and shoes, and even brought a wet towel for her makeup.

"You're the sweetest," Feyre said. "I might just have a shower before bed." "No," Rhys said, pulling her into his chest. He was now just in his boxer briefs. "Stay here with me." Feyre laughed. "I'll be right back." "Shower in the morning," Rhys insisted. His arms wouldn't budge.

So Feyre lay back down and loved the feeling of his nose nuzzling into the back of her neck.

"Let's not see other people for another month," Rhys said. "I hate everyone." "Everyone?" "But you."

Feyre grinned in the dark. "Good boy," she said.

****

Fam let me tell you I almost ended it when Feyre walked out of that archive room but I figured I had tortured poor Rhysie long enough! That's the end of this one, thank you enormously to everyone who has read and reblogged. I don't hate any of you.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-babies @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @thalia-2-rose @f-cursebreaker

[holycow99]

石田お寿司 12/9/21 stream translation Part 8

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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(t/n: ** means translation may not be accurate.)

*He started drawing choujin X.

I: I’m gonna do my work. It’s gonna be a work streaming onwards. Whoever is sleepy can sleep.

*Showing the screen.

I: This is the 2nd chapter. I’m doing this for the magazine. Even though I’ve done this chapter before, I’m still drawing it. This is what I’ve been doing.  Pitiful, isn’t it? I’m doing this because I want to though. Then, I’m gonna casually draw this for a bit.

C: Looks tough.

I: Not at all. Which page should I do? So exciting!

I: The bgm is called Cry by Queen Bee.

I: I wasn’t told to do this by Young Jump or anything. I voluntarily wanted to do it. I asked them to let me do it.

C: Tell us your favourite panel.

I: Hmm…I wonder. I don’t know.

I: I’ve been doing the manuscript by myself, along with the background as a challenge. When I was able draw the background pretty well, I thought, surprisingly, working this way was better. So, I got carried away and had fun drawing them. I drew too much to the point the pages piled up. It didn’t need these many pages. You can’t have these many pages for the comic, so it’s difficult. The 70 something pages for chapter 2 is gonna be compressed to fit the magazine. I feel embarrassed. I was like “what is this super big spread?!”

I: My goal is to update 3 chapters this month while creating chapter 2 ver 2, and there are coloured parts in between the pages for the magazine. I’m not supposed to do that either… It’s troublesome.

*Someone commented there’s a weird URL. (t/n: the highlight of the stream.)

I: There’s a weird URL? Should I delete it? Which one? Oh, it’s an R-18 URL. “Hot Girls and Boys”. This is definitely an adult URL! Maybe I should check out. Hahaha! I’ll pin this message! What should I do with it? Then…I’m blocking it.

C: Sensei, check it out for us.

I: I’ll take a look at it for a bit later. The virus might corrupt my manuscripts.

C: That’ll be a problem.

I: Do you mean me pinning the message? Oh, you mean my manuscript getting corrupted. That’s okay. It’ll be a corrupted version of chapter 2. The virus version. I have to quickly make ver.3 if that happens. Choujin X adult ver. Adult sites often put X in their URL. That kind of info came out when I searched about the letter ‘X’. Therefore, I wanna do that kind of collaboration, please. I’ll be waiting for it. To shueisha, To Ninohara Matsuo, please make it happen. I’m looking forward to your cooperation.

*Someone commented for him to try get his files corrupted by adult site’s virus for the 30,000 commemoration.

I: That’s a good idea! Try getting corrupted by pc virus. Let’s do it, by all means. Don’t hesitate to tell me any sites filled with virus.

*People commented they can see the comment being pinned.

I: It’s because it’s being pinned. Really? I can’t even unpin it! Why? Amazing. The comment is strong. How about If I randomly pin another comment? Is there any interesting comment? MM, comment something interesting.

*The comments had already been unpinned.

I: I don’t know whether MM is still here or not. They must use the word ‘On the contrary’ in the comment. Something like, “On the contrary, adult sites are…” That person only comment contradictory stuffs.

C: MM’s syntax.

I: That’s a nice one. “On the contrary,…” even though it isn’t. Has MM gone? I’m curious. Maybe he’s thinking of what “on the contrary” stuff to comment. “On the contrary, open the URL.” Haha. “On the contrary, try getting corrupted by the virus.” On the contrary, how about I spread the virus to you guys? You’ll see adult stuffs if you open it.

*Someone commented Ishida would be on Yahoo News if that happened.

I: That’s good. Let’s do it. I’ll add trying to spread the virus into the 30,000 subscribers’ commemoration proposal.

C: I can’t handle the virus.

I: That’s right. The pc will be heavy if there’s virus.

*Someone asked why he wanted to be a mangaka.

I: I’ve told this before, but because I didn’t wanna get a job. I thought it’d be easy being a mangaka. Then, I thought of retiring when I was in my 30s after I’ve earned enough money. Haha. I thought of having an easy life. These were my thoughts when I was 19. But reality is…how do I put it? There’s still more to life.

C: Is it as what you’ve planned?

I: Is it? I did become a mangaka. I’m amazed by that fact. I wondered whether I was gonna be one when I was aiming for it. I thought of being a mangaka and I really did become one.

C: What anime did you obsessed with lately?

I: I don’t have one. I’ve been watching movies only. I watch them if the anime is the laid-back, calming type.

*Ishida mentioned that Goubaru started doing something so passionately, but he couldn’t understand why Goubaru’s doing it. Goubaru tried to explain to Ishida but he was unable to understand what he’s doing anymore in the end. Ishida ended up giving advice to Goubaru.

(t/n: I couldn’t translate the part above properly, so I just summarized it.)

* The adult websites comment came back in the chat.

I: It’s here again. This thing is super famous. I’ve blocked them though. Should I block it? How should I do it? Report it or using moderator? What is moderator? Something like a management or some sort? Would it disappear if I report it?  

C: Moderator is someone who’d ban it for you.

I: I see. A guard. That’s good. But if the moderator is a nasty person, like S******, they’ll ban stuffs randomly. They’ll be playing around with it.

*Talking about the weird comment again.

I: Erotic websites also appear in my stream. Isn’t it amazing? The only thing I’ve got before was a URL for a ramen blog. I should’ve taken a look at the site secretly after that. It was a ramen blog, but the name of the blog was something related to excretion.

*Ishida imitating the ramen blog’s comment.

I: “I’ve written reviews about ramen that I ate.” The content is okay, but the blog name is…, but he might’ve been a good person. But he’s probably not if he put out his url there. Like what are you trying to promote? I’m still regretting not taking a look at it.

*Ishida finding page to draw.

I: I’ll draw this. It looks fun. Is it okay for me to show these drawings? Well, you’re gonna read this in Tonari Young Jump in the end. I’ve drawn it, so it’s okay.

C: Until what time are you gonna stream?

I: I haven’t decided it.

C: You’ve been streaming for almost 4 hours.

I: That’s nice. This can be a record.

*Someone asked if he’s day and night became reverse when working at home.

I: Yes, definitely. That’s basically what’s happening now. I’m currently a nocturnal maybe. I wake up at wrong hours.

*Searching for bgm

C: Please play something that wouldn’t get you banned.

I: I won’t be banned, but I’ll get a copyright notice, just like Juuzou’s video. I got a notice saying I wasn’t allowed to monetise the video. I wasn’t going to. I can’t play songs I usually play because of the copyright.

C: Try getting your account banned for the commemoration project.

C: Copyright is bothersome.

I: You can’t help it. Everyone is protected that way.

*Ishida forgetting Chandra/Chandler’s outfit.

I: Did he wear a tie? He does, doesn’t he? Ah, he does.

C: It looks like Animal Rap at a glance.

I: Quite a while ago, I forgot if it was the drawing stream or not, I was drawing while animal rap videos were playing, right? During the night of the day chapter 2 was released probably, I did a streaming with animal rap videos playing on the screen. I said I wanted to see the final battle. I thought of uploading animal rap video after the stream. Now, I can start uploading them. I’ll upload animal rap video while drawing Choujin X. Need to see the conclusion of it. Are you guys anticipating it? Haha. I’m the one who anticipates it the most.

C: I wan you to bring back the Vtuber.

I: That thing? It’s a nuisance. Hahaha.

C: Is the name of the smoke guy supposed to be Chandra or it is translation error?

I: Is there translation error? I don’t know though.

I: I’ve drawn until B Block’s match for Animal Rap. The 2nd match is over, so another 4 matches to go? Or 3 matches? Huh? Let me scribble (the matches’ chart) , since I’m dumb. It’s like this, right? Until which match did I draw? I’ve drawn the B Block’s matches but I haven’t uploaded them yet. So, I have another 3 matches. So fast! The first match was super long.

*Someone wanted Animal Rap to continue forever.

I: That’s tough. Endless stuffs are tough. It’s good because it ends.

Part 9

[prurientpuddlejumper]

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 3)

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

For @thatesqcrush​​’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Mistletoe square

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Rough-ish hate-sex, mild degradation. Enthusiastic but dubious consent! They both want what’s happening but Bryan is reader’s boss who coerced her into the date and reader is now (half-jokingly?) blackmailing him. It’s super healthy 🙃 

5,400 words

Bryan wished he were drunk.

He reclined in a leather armchair, a warm weight in his lap. He stared intently and with disinterest at the embroidery on the edge of a red Christmas stocking hung above the fireplace in his parents’ living room while his tiny nieces and nephews giggled at holiday movies.

If he had been drunk, he would at least have an excuse for his behavior tonight.

No, not for making a dozen paralegal nobodies miss Christmas, leveraging his authority to coerce you into doing a personal favor, or introducing NC-17 language to a family dinner. Those were all par for the course for the most ruthless litigator at STR Laurie.

It was the particular favor he had coerced you into—asking you to pose as the MILF he’d been banging when she dumped him via text on Christmas Eve.

Just so he wouldn’t have to explain why Sydney wasn’t with him. 

Just so he wouldn’t be alone for the long drive.

Fucking brilliant.

Now his most obstinate, irritating, antagonistic employee knew about Sydney, knew how attached he’d gotten, had met his mother, and seen photos of him getting a bubble bath in the sink. (He loved his mom, but sometimes he wondered about murder.) Making you do such a humiliating favor seemed like a good way to finally control you. But his upper hand was quickly reversed.

You were right. The whole thing was pathetic.

Still, you were playing along better than he could have expected.

The strangest part was, you fit in with his family so much better than Sydney would have. She was hot, but honestly, dumb as a brick, and as difficult as Bryan himself. He had a better time with you. The way you gently teased him, commiserating with his family over what a pain in the ass he could be. The way you smiled so naturally… he saw how things could have been with Syd. With someone who called out his bullshit, but cared about him anyway.

It was a shame you were just pretending.

Try opening your heart sometime.

Fuck that.

He didn’t need to open up more. He needed to get back to the Bryan Kneef he used to be before some bitch fucked with his heart. He needed to get Syd out of his fucking mind and replace her with someone else. Anyone else.

He needed to fuck someone.

And you…

His attention turned to the weight in his lap.

You were there.

*****

When did the pretend little gestures start getting to you? Start feeling enough like real affection that there was a lonely ache in your stomach?

You fucking hated Bryan Kneef.

But there you were, your fingers tangled in his beard when no one was even watching.

You’d been sitting on Bryan’s lap for what felt like hours—you could probably figure out how many based on the number of Christmas movies that had played and how many of the children had gone off to bed in various guestrooms.

Now the fire in the hearth was burning low, and only the adults remained hanging around in the living room.

His hands were wrapped around your waist, and you had gotten so comfortable, you were practically nodding off to sleep against his chest. Bryan was getting more comfortable, too. You idly stroked his beard, and he didn’t disguise the way he nuzzled into your hand.

The private whispers you shared started as touchy warnings not to screw up your “Sydney” act and counter-threats to expose him if he crossed a line. But that invisible line kept moving, and the whispers became more like the sweet nothings between lovers they were meant to resemble.

He even started stroking your hair. Bryan Kneef, gently running his fingers over your scalp. It was a Christmas miracle.

You might have drifted off in his arms, except for one major distraction—the bulge pressing against your ass.

“What the hell is that?” you asked, close to his ear.

“My dick.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Stupid question, then.”

“Fuck you.”

“Want to?”

You accidentally let out a heady sigh instead of an offended gasp, and his hand moved a little higher, slipping under your knit sweater, grazing over your belly. You meant to tell him to fuck off. Really. You should have told him to cut it out. But the problem was, you didn’t want him to.

“My offer’s still on the table,” he murmured. “Since you’ve been such a good girl tonight. You deserve a reward.”

Being called a good girl did something to you, even though it was—or maybe because it was—somewhat demeaning. Your skin prickled. You swallowed the dryness in your throat. Your skin felt too hot… much too hot, and his thick cock was still trapped firmly between his hips and your ass. His offered reward.

“Y-yeah, I deserve a medal of honor.”

For what, again? For helping out your coworkers? They were already home with their families—you didn’t have to stay this long.

Maybe continuing the charade was just more fun than sitting in your apartment eating Chinese takeout. You accused Bryan of being lonely, but the truth was, you were the one who had nowhere to be tonight—everyone you cared about was half a country away. And your horny, irrational side wanted to feel that cock without so much clothing in the way. Wanted to feel exactly how a selfish asshole like Bryan would ravage you with it.

He would devour you like the big bad wolf…

“That wasn’t a no,” he observed, his beard tickling your ear.

“Shut up!” you hissed back, loud enough to draw attention.

He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations of his chest at your back. “Yes, kitten.”

To his credit, Bryan didn’t try anything further. His hands behaved themselves, chastely stroking your hair, and eventually his erection returned to its pre-arousal size. You had been on his lap for a long time, your ass grinding against his groin whenever you shifted. It was a natural, physical reaction… That was all.

The fact that it felt so good you were soaking through your panties was just natural biology, as well.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bryan Kneef was the worst boss you ever had. He had no respect for his subordinates (or for anybody—you recalled the deposition in which he’d told a name partner of Reddick, Boseman & Lockhart to “call her own ass”). The fact that he was handsome just made you hate him more.

But god, his lap was warm. The smell of his cologne, and the steady rhythm of his breath…

You got to see a human side to him tonight. The way he acted with people he couldn’t treat like shit. A private side no one who knew him professionally—and you doubted any of the fifty-two other women he hooked up with per year—ever got to see. You were peeking behind the curtain of his life, and it made Bryan squirm. It was kind of cute. And your wild, horny side was clawing at the inside of your brain to give in to all the lewd promises he kept whispering.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

*****

Martha yawned and patted her husband’s knee. “Well, us old folks are going to bed. Feel free to stay as late as you like, just turn the TV off when you go. No one’s in your bedroom if you do decide to stay over,” she added. “I’m making waffles in the morning.”

You swiveled your head around at the empty couches and realized it was just you, Bryan, and his parents left in the living room. Everyone else had gone home or gone up to bed. Bryan had been so cranky about wanting to leave right after dinner, but after you settled onto his lap, neither of you had found a reason to move.

Bryan stood and dumped you unceremoniously off his lap—you barely stuck the landing. He stretched.

“Nah, we’d better head out, too. Thanks for dinner, ma.” He kissed her cheek and hugged her and his dad goodbye. “Get your things, Syd,” he snapped.

Sounded like girlfriend-duty was over. Good. You could stop pretending to like him.

Good.

“Be nice,” Martha chided, batting him on the arm. “Go help her find her coat; she doesn’t know the way around.”

Bryan put his hand on the small of your back and led you through an archway to the entrance hall.

His father cackled as you passed through it. “Look up!”

Mistletoe.

Bryan glanced up at the bundle of mistletoe without moving his head, so it looked like he was rolling his eyes. Then he looked at you and quirked a brow. You let out an awkward laugh, which he took to mean kissing was not part of the deal.

“It’s depraved that you want to make your children kiss,” he said dryly. “You do this to Tim and Steve, too?”

“We did, and it was adorable.”

“It’s tradition! Kiss. Kiss!”

“We are not going to kiss for you like trained monkeys,” said Bryan.

His parents passed under the arch and pecked each other’s lips.

“I love you, dear,” said his mom to his dad.

“Love you, too,” said his dad to his mom.

“No,” said Bryan.

“’ Night, peanut.” Martha pinched his cheek, and she and her husband took their perfectly hideous matching holiday sweaters upstairs.

“There,” Bryan sighed as his parents’ bedroom door clicked shut. “That wraps it up. Good work tonight.” Genuine praise from Mr. Kneef was rare, and sent a strange flush of heat between your legs. He turned toward the closet to fetch your coat, but you caught his wrist. He turned back to you.

“It is tradition…”

“Is it now?” His eyes narrowed, and a confident smirk turned the corners of his lips. He stepped closer, dangerously into your space, pushing you back against the corridor wall. “We wouldn’t want to defy tradition...”

Fuck, fuck—what were you doing?

His scent was overpowering and masculine, his presence overwhelming your senses, making him seem so much taller than he was as he shadowed you from the overhead light. You grabbed the front of his cashmere sweater and pulled. His lips crashed into yours, as hungry and fierce as you dreamed they’d be. There was no slow mounting of intensity—the moment his mouth was on yours it was fighting for dominance, wet and hot, his tongue forcing your lips open, not giving you a second to catch your breath. He tasted like cocoa and peppermint. A low growl rumbled from his throat, and you felt it in yours, his tongue was buried so deeply down it. You wrapped your arms behind his neck, tangling your fingers in his salt-and-pepper hair, drawing his weight down on you, letting him trap you against the wall. Someone was making a pathetic high-pitched whimper, and you realized it was you, desperately clawing at his sweater to grab more of him, rocking your hips forward until he reciprocated and his erection pushed against the aching heat between your legs.

When he finally pulled away, you were panting, lips drenched and throbbing from his aggressive technique. His hand was unabashedly cupping your ass, rolling the fat of it in his palm.

Oh, fuck.

No. No, no, no. He’s an asshole. A shallow jerk, and you hate him. You were not supposed to give him the satisfaction of seducing you.

He brought a hand to your face, holding it firm to keep you looking at him. His green eyes were dark with lust and energetic with desire. He lowered his face to yours and licked the saliva off your mouth. You shuddered, hips twitching forward into his cock.

Then again, it wasn’t like this meant you had feelings for him. He certainly didn’t have any for you. This was about sex. About your satisfaction. What was so wrong about fucking your boss?

The same dominating, shameless personality that made him a nightmare to work for would be right up your alley in bed. You wanted those big hands all over you, holding you down. That filthy mouth degrading you. You wanted him to call you kitten and sweetheart while he had his way with you.

His big hand was still holding your face, his lips still breathing your air as they hovered over yours.

That was it. The floodgates were open, and there was no closing them again. The wild, wanton part of you won out and took control. There would be no more rational decisions tonight.

“Can I have my reward now… Mr. Kneef?”

“Yeah?” he breathed against your lips, still pinning you. “You want the medal of honor?”

“Fuck you.”

“Since you asked nicely.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you up the master staircase, down a hallway, and pushed you into a bedroom.

As soon as the door was closed behind you, his demeanor shifted slightly. His strong hands were pawing at your ass, roving under your clothing, but he pulled his head back when you tried to kiss him. “You sure you want to do this? To be clear, this is not part of our arrangement—I don’t want to hear from HR later that I forced you to fuck me.”

“I plan to leave this part out of the complaint I’m filing.”

“Good to know you’re still filing it.” He pinched one of your nipples through your bra to punctuate the thought. You tried not to melt in his hands.

“Maybe that depends on your performance,” you purred, letting a slow, wicked smile spread over your lips. “You’d better fuck me like your job depends on it, Mr. Kneef.”

“Treacherous little bitch,” he growled. “I like this side of you. You just tell daddy exactly how you want it...” His teeth grazed your ear. A flight of goosebumps broke out over the back of your neck.

“Oh, fuck… I want that nasty fucking attitude of yours. You never hold back, never have any respect for anyone—I bet you like giving it hard, don’t you?” You pulled his hips toward you and snapped yours against them.

“Is that what you want? You like it rough?” His fingers tangled in your hair and pulled your head back, exposing your neck. His lips were hot and his beard scratchy as he sucked a mark onto the soft skin of your throat while you moaned.

“Yeah. I want you to use me. Think you can do that?” you challenged, only a slight hitch to your breath betraying what his mouth was making you feel.

Despite the soft domesticity of your performed cuddling earlier, you could only imagine Bryan one way. And soft wasn’t it. One tolerable night didn’t mean you liked him… but it was kind of hotter if you didn’t. You had your own frustrations to work out.

The big bad wolf could fuck you hard enough to forget you were alone on Christmas.

“I think I can handle it.” He pulled harder and sucked another mark, this time enough to leave a bruise.

You let a moan slip out, grateful it was the time of year you could get away with wearing a scarf all week until those faded… because you wanted more—a whole little collection from Bryan Kneef’s filthy mouth.

“I knew you were a slut deep down…” He found the hem of your sweater and yanked it off over your head in one motion. “Having such filthy thoughts about your boss is naughty behavior,” he tutted. “Santa’s going to bring you coal.”

“And what about sexually harassing your employee?” You cocked an eyebrow, using the temporary space between you to posture with your hands on your hips defiantly.

“You’ve got no case for that one, sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly, stroking your cheek with unsettling fondness. “You barged into my private office and asked me out for drinks. Sounds like you’re just a slut.”

You glowered at him incredulously because… he wasn’t… wrong.

“It’s OK. I like sluts.” He smirked. The thumb stroking your cheek worked its way over your chin, brushed your pouted lips, and slipped between them. Your tongue instinctively darted out to taste the salty pad, and his eyes darkened with desire. “That’s right… take it, you filthy little—” He hissed when you nipped him hard enough to get his attention.

“And you’re lucky naughty boys are fun to play with.” You ran your tongue over his thumb soothingly.

His chest reverberated with a predatory grumble. You were going to pay for that. Within seconds he had your top off, and then your bra—his hands were everywhere, rough and demanding, not waiting for permission.

He wrapped one strong arm around your back to brace you and lowered his face to your breasts and started sucking on them, hard. His free hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the hardened peak under his thumb. Lightning shot through your body, making your back arch, your chest rising into his mouth. “Oh, Mr. Kneef…” you moaned, curling your fingers into his thick hair.

He was so ravenous his beard burned your skin, his tongue leaving wet trails of saliva along your abused breasts. Your nails dug into the back of his head as you pulled him deeper against you, encouraging every dangerous graze of his teeth and every mark he left on your skin that turned your lower body into molten lava.

“Fuck… yes, Mr. Kneef,” you panted. Always “Mr. Kneef.” It did something frenzied and primal to remember you were fucking your boss. Bryan wasn’t the kind of man you would fuck unless he was your boss. He wasn’t a lover, he was a kink.

Just when your raw nipples couldn’t take anymore, his mouth was on your lips again, assaulting your tongue with his, deep and persistent. There was a blur of movement. Your stomach lurched, the room spun, and suddenly you were on your back, on a mattress with Bryan on top of you.

Then he was sitting back, pulling his cashmere sweater off and unbuttoning his dress shirt while your fingers grasped at his belt, fumbling to unbuckle it. The tent straining the fabric beneath it was considerable, and that melting heat in your core was desperate for it.

You could see the dark need in Bryan’s eyes, but he managed a little more restraint than you were capable of in the moment. “Ground rules,” he said. “If you want to go through with this, there’s none of that fake lovey-dovey shit, understand? You are not my pretend-girlfriend. I am not going to be tender. There’s no cuddling.” His white undershirt fell open and revealed a broad chest covered in a forest of greying hair you wanted to get lost in. He followed the path of your eyes, and one corner of his lips twitched into a greedy smirk. “I am going to fuck you. Hard,” he growled, lowering his body on top of you, so close you could feel the heat of his skin on yours, the tickle of his chest hair on your sore breasts. His half-undone belt hung down and dragged on your hips. “I am fucking pissed about being dumped, and you are just a replacement. A body for me to fuck. That’s the deal—do you understand? Don’t come running to me Monday expecting any special attention.”

“Deal. On one condition.” You grabbed his beard and pulled his face down so his eyes were locked with yours. “You don’t fucking tell anybody about this. No one at work hears a word. No disgusting locking room talk. I am not one of your conquests. You want to tell anyone you got laid? It was Sydney.”

“Deal, Syd. Now shut the fuck up.”

You released his beard and pat his face condescendingly. He caught your wrist with an annoyed grunt, fingers circling it effortlessly, and pinned it beside your head on the mattress. Then he was stealing your breath with another fierce kiss, all teeth and tongue and snarling into your mouth. You felt dizzy when he finally broke it to pull his shirt the rest of the way off and toss it aside.

“Oh fuck, Mr. Kneef… you really are attractive,” you commented, running your free hand over his muscular chest and arms. God, those arms were the size of your head, with thick veins running their length.

He glanced down at you but barely took note of the way you were salivating over his body. He knew how hot he was. It wasn’t news. What interested him was you.

He slid your skirt and panties down over your hips, stripping you completely naked on the bed, and looked you over appreciatively. For someone who dressed so conservatively all the time at work, you were sexier than the real fucking Syd. He was starting to think it was a good thing the bitch dumped him—look at all he was missing out on being chained to one pussy.

“You OK?” you asked. You noticed him pause after getting your clothes off, and he had that strange sort of sad look again.

He blinked, and his eyes hardened.

His pants dropped to the floor so he was standing just in his boxers. Then he was on top of you, pushing you back down into the mattress, using his knees to spread your thighs apart. That wild, needy heat flared up within you, anticipating it.

You reached between his legs to cup his bulge through his underwear, his heavy balls, the stiff erection above it. His cock was so thick you gasped as your fingers surrounded it to take in its size, and couldn’t wrap all the way around.

“Fuck. Oh wow, fuck. That’s huge,” you husked, voice slurred with desire. “I guess when you strut around like you’ve got a huge dick, it’s for a good reason. I always thought you were compensating for something.”

He growled and thrust his hips between your spread legs so you could feel that massive cock grind against your pussy.

“Ohh—fuck!” you groaned. You considered the monster between Bryan’s legs, and suddenly the idea of him fucking you with it as hard as you asked for made your throat go dry. “I don’t know if I can take this all at once.”

“You won’t be able to walk right on Monday. Everyone’s going to know what a great holiday you had,” he promised sinfully. “I’m going to rip you in half.” He rocked his hips again, rubbing your clit with the pressure of it, and you felt yourself getting wetter.

“I fucking mean it, Bryan. You are actually going to hurt me with that thing.”

His face grew serious. “You want me to stop, say stop—any time. Say no. Slow down. I’m not going to fucking hurt you.”

That was entirely relieving, actually. You’d kind of jumped into this hoping he’d ride you hard and push you around, but the fantasy didn’t work if you weren’t in control if he pushed too far. You were actually putting a lot of trust in a man you hated because you were horny.

He felt like shit that you’d think he would actually hurt you like that. But he could hardly blame you. “If you can’t speak, tap out. Can you do that? Show me you know what I’m fucking talking about and you’re not just nodding along.”

You scowled indignantly and tapped three times on his arm.

“Good girl.” His beard was tickling the soft skin of your chest as he made a path of bites and kisses down your body. “Don’t worry, kitten. When I’m done, you’ll be begging for me.”

He lifted your legs over his shoulders and sucked a long, teasing mark into one of your thighs, pinching the flesh in his teeth, determined to leave a lasting impression with this one—so anyone else who might fuck you in the next few weeks would know he was there. Then he moved his attention to your already-drenched heat. He dipped one of his long, thick fingers in first, and you gasped, flinching as it plunged its full length up to the knuckle into you, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“You’re tight even around one finger,” he said. “Am I making you nervous?”

You looked down your body at Mr. Kneef, your asshole boss, between your legs, slowly pumping a finger inside you. “Fuck you.”

“Trying, but I’ve got my work cut out. What a beautiful pussy, though…”

Without warning, his tongue darted out and licked your clit. You felt yourself clench around his probing finger and relax again, flooding with warmth. He grinned against your heat and began eating you out relentlessly, filling the room with filthy wet sucking and lapping sounds. Your soft, whimpering cries filled the air, too—you tried not to make too much noise with his family in the house, but you couldn’t stop a few from slipping out. You yelped as he added fingers with just as little warning, stretching you open a little at a time. He changed up the pattern and speed of his tongue on your clit, always backing away just as the molten heat of your orgasm began to build to its delicious, irresistible heights. He didn’t stop until his beard was soaked, and your pussy was practically sucking his fingers in with the need to be satisfied—until you were begging for it.

“Please… Mr. Kneef—ah! Please let me come?”

“Now, now. You’re going to come on daddy’s cock.”

“Yes!” you gasped, clawing at his hair, “Yes—fuck me. Oh god, fill me up with that perfect cock.”

He stripped his boxers off, and his red cock sprang free, already glistening with arousal, the smooth head pulled out of his foreskin. Veins snaked up the sides of it just like his arms and the backs of his hands. It was every bit as big and solid.

Kneeling between your legs, he gave his cock a few strokes and rubbed it through your dripping wet folds. The blunt, hot pressure of it sent waves of arousal up your spine. Your legs opened a little wider without your bidding them to.

“Wait!” you choked out, coming to your senses. “Condom.”

Bryan grumbled. “I’ve only been with one partner for the last three months. I’m clean.”

“Put a fucking condom on—”

“Or you’ll tell HR?”

“And your mom, too.”

“Bitch.” He smiled, the corners of his bright eyes wrinkling. Nobody ever called you that like it was a compliment before.

“Asshole.”

There were condoms in his business card case, as if he had rather expected the night to go this way.

When he finally entered you, he was studying your face almost tenderly for signs of pain or hesitation. He worked you open in a steady movement—not rough as promised, but not patiently waiting. His blunt head stretched you more than his fingers, but you were so sensitive already—so close—your walls eagerly gripped him, reshaping for his size, and the sore, burning sensation of being stuffed past your limit was one you relished as much as the pleasure.

Your legs hooked around the back of his thighs and guided him in until he was buried in your tight warmth.

Slowly at first, he rolled his hips fluidly until he was sure you could take it. When he felt you relax around his cock, your eyes on his with lust-blown desire, he snapped his hips against you once, the smack of flesh echoing through the quiet dark of the bedroom. A deep, startled moan followed it, torn out of your chest.

You were already at the limit of pressure your body could take just being filled by Bryan’s cock. The hard thrust went even deeper—too deep. You had never felt such a fullness before, and—fuck—he was hitting something so deep inside. Something that made your whole body start to melt. It didn’t matter if you could take it or not.

You wanted every inch of this bastard.

“Yes… That’s it… More. Give it to me.”

Bryan lifted your legs up onto his shoulders and leaned over you, pushing them toward your head. The new angle made him feel impossibly large, and when he found just the right angle for leverage, he started fucking you harder and deeper than you’d ever experienced. Every ruthless snap of his hips hit so deep it knocked the air from your lungs and drew a wailing moan from low in your throat.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes a warning. “Quiet. Don’t wake the house.”

“Oh god… oh fuck, Bryan, you’re so… big.” Your voice shook as you tried to speak and hold back another moan.

Unlike the high, breathy gasps you usually gave, Bryan’s massive cock was pulling a new level of moan out of you, as penetrating as his thrusts. Another tore from your throat. You couldn’t hold it back if you wanted to, when his cock slammed into that spot that made you melt. It came from so deep within it shook your bones.

His hand covered your mouth again, and a fire kicked up in your stomach. The warmth of his salty palm pressing over your lips, pushing your head down into the mattress as he jackhammered into you—you were lost and aroused at the dominance of it. This time you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand over your mouth tighter.

He tipped his head at you curiously, and you shot him a defiant look, grinning against his palm as he realized how much you liked being gagged.

“You like that, you little slut?”

You moaned even louder, letting him muffle you. You didn’t have to hold back now—the harder he rutted, the louder you wailed into the weight of his hand, which meant he didn’t have to hold back either.

The entire bed shook, legs scraping the floor with every powerful thrust as he fucked you into the mattress.

“Take that cock,” he grunted. “That tight pussy feels so good.”

Every stroke bottomed out, hitting depths you never thought possible, and hitting something that ached exquisitely and sent tendrils of molten heat out to your fingertips and down the base of your spine.

It came on so gradually you almost didn’t notice the warm tension building up in every part of your body until it was breaking over you like a wave. Bryan tightened his grip to silence your climax, sobbing into his hand, kissing it, but mostly just letting yourself cry out louder as wave after powerful wave shook you from toes to fingertips, making the world lose focus. All you could feel was him filling you so completely, fucking you through it as your walls convulsed around his cock, and the weight of his hand on your mouth holding you down, anchoring you.

He grunted, pumping faster, shallower as your walls clenched too tight to penetrate, then just as you were starting to come down from your high, his hips jerked, stuttering in their rhythm, and he heaved an exhausted, satisfied sigh as his hot release filled the condom.

His hips stilled. He slowly released your mouth, and you kept moaning, “Fuck… fuck… oh my god, fuck. That was so good.” Your skin was still prickling with warm needles, and you felt… vulnerable.

You felt him start to pull out and grabbed his thick ass, pulling him flush against you.

“Don’t...” you panted. “I want to feel you inside me a little longer.”

“I told you none of this clingy shit,” he frowned. His brow was beading with sweat, and a sheen covered his chest muscles. His pink nipples were hardened peaks in his greying chest hair.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sighed, head falling back on the pillows. You relaxed your legs off his shoulders and crossed them around his back, holding him in place. “I just love your cock. You’re still an asshole. Just shut up and pretend you’re someone nice for a second while I catch my breath.”

It wouldn’t last long before he grumbled about needing to shower and dispose of the condom. But for a few minutes, the callous Mr. Kneef did as he was told and held you as the stars faded behind your eyelids, and your breath stopped trembling. When he was quiet like that, his solid presence was comforting—an anchor when you felt like you might float away.

When he wasn’t taunting and condescending—being himself, in other words—you could imagine he was the kind of person you would want to hold you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @welcometothemadxxhouse​ / @stardust-fray​ / @dreila03​ / @the-baby-bookworm​ / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends​ @storiesofsvu​ @xixxiixx​

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (7/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 6,244

Summary: Jamie  just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian  Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught  up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please note the rating change

read it below or read it here on AO3

VII.

—

Jamie swiped up on the tablet to throw the video to the feed at the centre of the table.

"Rebecca, this is everyone," Jamie said. "Everyone, this is Rebecca."

"I thought that maybe you'd been making up your Jedi friends this whole time. Nice to see I was wrong about that." Rebecca gave a little wave. "Hi, Dani. How's the ghost?"

Dani sank down a little in her seat, and her answering smile was more of a grimace. "Hi. Sorry," she mumbled.

"Yeah, about that," said Jamie. “Back on Quint’s ship, you said you knew what was happening at House Thul.”

“Oh? Finally ready to listen to me, are you?”

“Don’t push me,” Jamie growled, jabbing the tip of her finger at Rebecca’s face on the screen. “Remember. Galaxy’s Biggest Favour.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. She had taken the call with her back to a wall, so it was impossible to glean her surroundings. "The Empire wants a foothold on Alderaan. It's a strategic location in the Core Worlds. They have been working over Lord Wingrave after the death of his brother and sister-in-law, helping him fabricate claims to the House, claims to his niece and nephew, claims to a position in the Republic Senate. You know the drill. Traditional blackmail."

"What else?" Jamie pressed.

For a moment Rebecca glanced over the top of the camera as if looking at something else out of frame, but then her attention returned back to the screen. "The children are Force Sensitives. The Sith have been helping Lord Wingrave keep that under wraps, so that The Order wouldn't take them away to the Temple for training. My sources tell me that the plan was for a Sith Lord to create sleeper agents out of the children through the use of some ancient Sith device containing a ghost."

"Which Sith?" Hannah asked.

"I'm not in the business of keeping tabs on Sith Lords. By the way," Rebecca pointed through the screen at Hannah. "How have you found shaving your head? Because I've been thinking of cutting my hair back, but I’m not sure about going all the way."

Running a hand along her shaved scalp, Hannah said, "There's nothing quite so freeing."

"Good to know. Thanks.” 

"Oi," Jamie snapped her fingers. "Focus. The Sith Lord."

"What else is there to say?" Rebecca replied dryly. "They're a Sith Lord. They're scary. They're dangerous. They're not to be fucked with. Your Jedi friends probably know the drill better than me."

"I hope not," Owen said under his breath as he took a sip of tea.

Hannah sat up a little straighter, hands clasped neatly on the table before her. "Do we know where they are? Where they're going, perhaps? Any information you give us may be vital."

Leaning her back against the wall behind her, Rebecca pursed her lips in thought before answering with a shake of her head. "I know they want the children, and I know they want the holocron. So - Alderaan."

"But the holocron isn't on Alderaan," Dani pointed out.

"They don't know that," said Rebecca. "Peter lied to buy himself time, and told them it was still in the estate of House Thul."

"But -" Dani frowned. "House Thul has its own militia of guardsmen. I know Sith are powerful but the Empire would need to send troops if they wanted to break in and hold ground."

"Then I guess the Sith Lord will be invading with troops as well."

Sighing deeply, Jamie lowered her face to her hands, letting her fingers scrub through her hair. Then she looked up again, hands hooked behind her neck. "Right. Guess we're off to Alderaan, then."

Rebecca laughed. When nobody else joined in, she stopped. "Wait. You're serious? Did you not just hear me say 'Most likely a Sith Lord is going to invade House Thul?' As in — with a shock legion. As in over a thousand soldiers led by a malevolent Force User, who can and would probably kill a room with a snap of their fingers?” 

Lowering her hands, Jamie said, "Yeah, you - uh - you mentioned that. Good thing you'll be right there with us."

"You have got to be joking."

Jamie said nothing. Just gave Rebecca a long look.

"Jamie," said Rebecca, her expression horrified, "You can't be serious. When I said 'favour' I didn't mean 'suicide.'"

"We can’t let them have those kids. Trying to mobilise Republic troops or The Order without enough evidence is a fuckin’ waste of time. We need to get into the estate of House Thul," Jamie gestured around to everyone at the table. "You're a smuggler. So, smuggle us in."

Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alderaan is Republic territory. Why do you need me to smuggle you onto the planet, when you can just fly and land there yourself?"

"Because of her." Jamie gestured towards Dani, who looked both startled at being mentioned and guilty. "I don't want Pasha and his Troopers linking Dani to this in any way. They can't know she returned to House Thul. She has to come out of this squeaky clean."

Groaning, Rebecca said, "Fine. When do you want to go?"

"As soon as possible," said Owen.

"I'm -" Rebecca looked over the top of the camera again, craning her neck slightly. "Thirty two hours from Alderaan through hyperspace. Meet me in orbit around the planet. How's the ship I gave you?"

"Rude," Jamie said blandly. "It keeps insulting me."

A smile tugged at the corner of Rebecca's mouth and she began tapping at the buttons below her screen. "That sounds like Jane."

Jamie's face screwed up. "Jane? It has a name?"

"It's a JN class droid uploaded into the ship’s mainframe. It likes being called Jane. Didn't you ask it?"

"No?"

"Well, no wonder it's rude to you. By the way, I’ve just dropped you those pictures of my godson that you asked for last time. They should be appearing on your device now.” Rebecca waved with a little flutter of her fingers. “See you in thirty two hours.”

The video feed winked out. 

"I rather like that young woman," Hannah said.

“Get in line,” Jamie grumbled. 

The video had been replaced by a file icon. Jamie clicked it and brought up the first photo of Rebecca carrying a blue-skinned Twi’lek child on her back, both wearing big beaming smiles. 

“Oh, they’re adorable,” Owen sighed. 

Fuming, Jamie flicked to the next photo, which was equally adorable. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah. They are.”

—

After cleaning up in the dining room and kitchen, Hannah gently nudged Jamie's arm and indicated she should follow her. Jamie glanced over at Dani, but she was engaged in a lively conversation with Owen while they dried dishes together. Dani's smile had lost its tentative edge the longer Owen spoke to her, but there was still a tenseness to the way she held her shoulders, the same tenseness that had been present back in Ho'kyn's bar on Telos IV, as though she were afraid someone would batter down the door at any moment.

Jamie followed Hannah, who led her up a set of stairs to a mezzanine floor where the walls were floor to ceiling scrolls and books and objects of cultural curiosity.

"Find anything new?" Jamie asked. She leaned back against the railing of the mezzanine which overlooked the lounge below.

Hannah plucked a tome from its shelf, dusted it off, and opened it to a page that had already been marked with a length of ribbon. "Yes and no. Nothing helpful, anyway."

She came to stand beside Jamie so that she might also look at the book. Jamie peered at it from the corner of her eye, not recognising the script around the drawing of a grey-skinned woman in dark red robes with a deep cowl.

"That a Sith?" Jamie asked.

Hannah hummed a curious note. "A Witch of Dathomir. Dark-aligned, for the most part, but not Imperial. They're the only practitioners of possession I've been able to find record of at all. I believe The Lady might have been an early precursor. Or perhaps they developed similar techniques independently."

Jamie stood straighter, hands tightening around the railing. "Wait, so - you can reverse it?"

Hannah snapped the book shut. "No. Though a visit to Dathomir might be in order, should we survive. However, if you chose to go, I won't be accompanying you. They dislike Jedi as much as they dislike Sith."

"Good thing I'm not a Jedi."

"I doubt they'll see the difference," Hannah said, and she tucked the book beneath one arm. "Failing that, the only other people who might know anything about this ghost are the Sith themselves."

Jamie scoffed, smiling. "Right. I'll just sail into their capital on Dromund Kaas and ask for help, then. Great advice."

A flick of the Force against Jamie's ear made her wince.

"Don't be cheeky," said Hannah.

Rubbing at her ear, Jamie opened her mouth to retort but stopped. Beneath them Dani and Owen walked into the lounge, still talking. Dani moved her hands when she spoke, and Owen watched her with a fond if guarded smile.

"I am afraid for her," Hannah murmured so that they would not be overheard.

Jamie nodded. "Yeah."

"For someone like our lovely Miss Clayton, the Dark Side is not a lure so much as it is a glue trap," Hannah mused aloud. "It has a gravity of its own, the darkness. And once there, it becomes more and more difficult to claw your way free. Even if you want to. Even if you know you should, but can’t bring yourself to try. Fear is her failing. And fear is the relinquishment of logic."

Jamie glanced at Hannah. "Can you teach her when this is all over? You're the best of the best in The Order when it comes to balance in the Force."

Without looking at Jamie, Hannah lightly smacked her arm, just a dismissive tap with the back of one hand. "Don't try your flattery on me. I've known you too long for that nonsense."

"That nonsense," said Jamie, "has gotten me out of more sticky situations than you know."

"But it won't get Miss Clayton out of this one."

Muttering a curse under her breath, Jamie sank down a bit, gripping the railing as she did so until she stood bent over and leaning against it. "Don't you start, too. I had Owen in my ear last night about it."

"Good man," Hannah murmured appreciatively.

"Bloody hypocrites. The both of you."

"You can't solve everything with your curmudgeonly charm," said Hannah.

"I fuckin' can."

"Sometimes," Hannah turned, leaning her back against the railing, arms crossed over the book gripped loosely to her chest, "a helping hand can only do so much. A person needs to want to help themself."

Jamie scowled. "So, what? If we can't help her we just ship her off to the Empire? 'Here, have a new Sith apprentice?' You haven't even given her a chance, and you two are already lecturing me on how I need to let go." She shook her head with a bitter chuckle. "Unbelievable."

And of course Hannah remained infuriatingly unflappable, her voice calm when she replied, "I will do everything I can, as I know Owen will, too. But — even should we survive this ordeal — our time with her will be limited. She will not be safe on Tython, where some overzealous Knight will surely sense her presence and jump to conclusions."

Jamie's mouth went dry. She swallowed. "Then where am I supposed to take her for training?"

Hannah smiled and placed a warm hand on Jamie's forearm. "Wherever you want, dear. So long as you're there."

Face screwing up in confusion, Jamie straightened. "But you just - You were just telling me how I needed to keep my distance and all that shite."

"Was I?" Hannah murmured, and she let go of Jamie's arm to instead toy at a gold earring. "I don't recall saying that at all."

And with that she crossed back over to place the book on its shelf.

"What do you mean? Hannah?" said Jamie, turning around.

Humming to herself as if she hadn't heard, Hannah drifted off down the stairs.

"Hannah," Jamie repeated, louder this time.

"We really must pack, Owen," said Hannah, ignoring Jamie completely.

Hitting her fist against the railing, Jamie turned back around to glower down at Hannah, who appeared on the floor below. Hannah urged Owen down a hallway with instructions to pack for the trip, leaving Dani standing in the middle of the lounge, alone. Dani looked up, and Jamie's fist loosened.

The last time Jamie had seen her from this angle, Dani had been in the full thrall of The Lady back on the luxury cruiser, her red-gold gaze piercing through a camera in the ceiling. Now, Dani blinked up at her with none of that cold malice to be found. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Hannah's voice called down the hallway.

"Miss Clayton, what's the weather like at House Thul?"

Dani turned and began walking towards the sound, already answering Hannah's question, and leaving Jamie staring after her from the mezzanine floor, lost.

—

The gangway automatically lowered to the ground when Jamie got within a certain distance from the luxury cruiser still docked where they had left it.

"Good afternoon, Bollocks," said the cultured male baritone of the ship's computer. "You've brought guests."

Beside her, Owen mouthed the word 'bollocks?' at Hannah, who looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

Jamie rolled her eyes and shooed the two of them up the gangway, trailed by Dani. "I have, yeah. Anything interesting happen while we were away, Jane?"

There followed a pause that was slightly too long for a droid of this calibre, and then the ship's computer replied, "Nothing of note. I did not tell you to call me that."

"Oh? Don't like it? Should I call you bawbag instead?"

Another pause, this one affronted. "Jane," said the ship's computer, "is perfectly serviceable."

"Glad to hear it, mate," Jamie drawled and stepped into the ship proper.

As Dani stepped up behind her, the ship's computer said, "And a good day to you, too, Miss Clayton. You're looking very alive today."

"Uh -" said Dani, and she ducked her head sheepishly. "Thanks."

The gangway lifted and sealed behind them once everyone had entered the main atrium, where the ship’s computer had already sent out a small service droid on trundlers bearing glasses of some kind of pale carbonated alcohol. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Owen murmured, picking up a glass and taking a sip. He made an appreciative noise. 

“Where would we like to go?” the ship’s computer asked.

Jamie waved the service droid away when it tried to press an insistent drink into her hand. “No, thanks. Jane, calculate a route to Alderaan. We need to meet someone in orbit around the planet in thirty two hours.”

“Route calculated,” the ship’s computer replied almost immediately. “The journey is only expected to take twenty one hours through hyperspace. I will chart a circuitous route so that we arrive on time. If it would please you, you may make your way to the dining lounge. I have prepared a light lunch before we depart.” 

Frowning, Jamie looked up at the ceiling. “How the hell did you even know we were coming?”

“I have access to the station’s security cameras and systems.”

That gave everyone pause. Owen froze in the act of draining his glass, while Hannah and Dani shared looks. 

“You hacked the station’s security system?” Jamie said.

“Negative, Bollocks,” said the ship’s computer. “I asked the mainframe for access very nicely.” 

“Are you lying?” Jamie turned to Hannah and Dani. “Can droids lie?”

The ship’s computer did not answer. Which wasn’t concerning. Not at all. Owen suddenly looked a bit queasy, and he gingerly lowered his near empty glass back onto the tray held out by the service droid. 

“You need not fear for the condition of food and drink aboard this vessel,” said the ship’s computer. “I am programmed to care for and protect any legitimate member of this crew as designated by the Captain and owner.” 

Jamie pointed jokingly at Owen and said, “Better watch yourself, then.”

Placing a hand over his chest, Owen pretended to look insulted, then followed Jamie further into the ship towards the dining lounge. 

“May I ask,” started the ship’s computer, “what are we going to be doing on Alderaan?’

Jamie dragged her hand along one of the polished white walls as she walked. “Getting in over our heads.”

“Please clarify.”

“We’re going to have a fight. Why?” Jamie asked dryly. “Do you also happen to have ion cannons strapped to your shiny exterior?”

“Negative. But I do come equipped with some accessories the crew might find useful in the event of a boarding attempt.”

One of the panels beneath Jamie’s hand pressed inwards, and a whole section of the wall peeled back to reveal racks upon racks of blaster pistols, blaster rifles, grenades, vibroweapons with wickedly curved blades some small enough to strap to the leg, others long enough to be wielded with two hands. Everything that would make a Republic Trooper get all hot and bothered.   

All four of them stopped in their tracks and stared. 

“Definitely an ex-Czerka ship,” Hannah muttered under her breath.

Hand on the hilt of the lightsabre at her hip, Dani said, “I think I’ll stick with this. I’d be more likely to shoot my own foot.”

“Likewise,” said Owen. 

Meanwhile Jamie reached out and hefted a blaster pistol. She turned it over in her hands for closer inspection, careful not to graze anyone with the barrel, but all defining marks or serial numbers had been either scrubbed off or hadn’t made it far enough in manufacturing to be stamped in the first place. With a shrug, she took one of the holsters and belted it around her waist. 

Owen gave her a look. “Really?” 

“What?” Jamie holstered the blaster pistol and waved at the other three. “You all have lightsabres, and we’re going up against who only knows what. Am I supposed to just hide behind a pillar while you lot do all the fun stuff?” 

Before they could answer, the ship’s computer chimed and said from its hidden speakers in the ceiling. “Not to interrupt,” said Jane, “but the tea is getting cold.”

Immediately Owen’s eyes brightened. “Oh, tea?” 

It was in fact high tea. Three tiered platters. Fine bone china. Petit fours. The whole lot. They amused themselves in the various lounges and quarters of the ship for hours before departure, at which point the ship’s computer insisted upon harnesses being secured. The jump to hyperspace left Jamie feeling on edge, as though she had left her stomach behind on Tython. And she couldn’t have been the only one. Their talk had been too forced, their laughter too loud, Owen and Jamie swapping stories to the delight of Dani and Hannah, who would chime in every now and then. And when Jane rolled out a more formal dinner, it felt like some kind of last meal before execution at dawn by firing squad. 

Jamie couldn’t find it in herself to enjoy the meal. Every bite tasted like ash. The ship’s computer on the other hand seemed thrilled that its crew was finally taking part in its carefully scheduled meals and activities. More than once Jamie thought she heard a low-pitched contented hum from the belly of the ship. Or perhaps that was simply the engine room. 

Eventually, Jamie made her excuses and left the others to their own devices. Jamie walked into the same bedroom she had taken during the initial trip on this vessel. First one on the left from the main lounge. There were at least four other rooms of generally equal size and accommodation on the ship; Jamie had simply picked this one because it was closest to the helm, easy to access and nothing more. 

Jamie sighed and stopped in the middle of the room. She unslung the holster and pistol, dropping it to the ground, then began to unbutton the crisp white shirt she had stolen from the medbay. Back on Tython, Hannah had offered her a spare set of robes, which she’d declined. Jamie hadn’t worn robes since she was a padawan, and after years of boilersuits and undershirts, she wasn’t about to start again any time soon, thanks. Even if it meant dumb slacks and collared shirts made of some anti-wrinkle fabric that cost more than her apartment back on Telos IV. 

She just needed to make it one more day. Just one more day. The last few weeks had shaved off a good few years from her life. Probably. And by this time tomorrow this whole ordeal would be over, alive or dead. Probably. 

There was a knock at the door. With a frown, Jamie turned, hands paused in the act of unbuttoning the shirt halfway down her stomach. “Yeah?” 

The door hissed open and shut again behind Dani as she stepped into the room. “Hi.”

Jamie blinked. “Hey.” 

For a long moment Dani did and said nothing. Her mismatched gaze flicked down to the narrow v of skin and the dogtags revealed by the open shirt, only to dart quickly away again, studying the bedside table with a fixed intensity it did not deserve. 

“Sorry,” said Dani. “I just - It's been a few days since we’d really spoken, and I wanted to check in.”

Jamie nodded. “Ah - yeah. I’m good. Are you -?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” 

Another lengthy pause.

Dani gestured to the door behind her. “Hannah and Owen are very nice.” 

“They are, yeah. Good people. Trust ‘em with my life, and I don’t say that lightly.” Jamie tried to smile, to make light, but Dani had turned that wide-eyed fixed intensity upon her now. It was difficult not to squirm in place when Dani looked at her like that.

Dani took an abortive step forward, only to stop herself before she could venture too close. “Are we okay? It’s just - on Tython you seemed to want your own space, and I thought -” She paused to clear her throat, glancing briefly down at her feet. “Did I mess this up or -? I mean - I know I’m not the best option for anyone, and you deserve someone nice, someone who’s not completely messed up or possessed by an ancient Sith ghost or something. But I -” she paused to close her eyes and draw in a deep breath. “I really like you. And if you don’t want anything to do with me after this is all over, I would completely understand, but I -”

Jamie tried. She really did. But the next thing she knew, she had taken a step forward and pulled Dani in for a kiss. Dani made a small noise of surprise in the back of her throat that Jamie chased after, feeling her respond in kind, feeling the Force welling up beneath Dani’s skin like a hand reaching out in offering. 

“Do you think -” Jamie said, pulling away just enough to speak, “- that I did all this because I don’t like you?”

Dani gave a breathless little laugh, her hands cupping Jamie’s jaw then sliding to cradle the back of her head. “I thought you did it because you’re good and noble and you’re drawn to a lost cause.”

“Can be lots of things, can’t I?”

They were close enough that Jamie could feel the pull of Dani’s smile against her own lips, their noses brushing. 

“I know you like your life to be boring. So, I was thinking," said Dani, "how nice Corsin must be at this time of year. Just a getaway planet in the middle of nowhere. No Sith. No Jedi. That could be boring, couldn't it?"

Jamie swayed forward, eyes half lidded, and murmured, "Could be awfully boring."

Hannah and Owen be damned. The little voice in the back of her head telling her this was a bad idea be damned. Dani was kissing her again and every thought flew right out of her head until there was nothing but this. Nothing but today, this moment, the call of blood in her veins, life as it was and nothing else. 

There was not push towards the bed, no drive to action beyond this. Still Jamie paused, one hand remaining anchored at Dani’s waist.

“You can still go alone,” Jamie said, “if you want. Doesn’t have to be with me.”

Even as she said it, Jamie dreaded the answer. Knowing Dani’s predilection towards shrinking away from things that were too difficult to face alone. Knowing her own history of always being the odd one out, passed from place to place, from Corps to Corps, unfettered, unwanted. 

Dani’s hand tightened in her hair, holding her close. “Want it to be with you.”

Want this, Jamie thought as Dani kissed her again. Want this, too.

Removing Dani’s cloak and tossing it onto the floor beside the blaster pistol had never felt so easy. Kissing her, unhooking the lightsabre and setting it onto the table had never felt so easy. Unzipping Dani’s vest while Dani finished unbuttoning what Jamie had started had never felt so easy. Being with someone else had never felt so easy. 

Jamie’s shirt was discarded onto the ground beside the bed just as Jamie sank to her knees there. Dani’s hair was mussed, her mouth parted, her eyes fixed and unblinking as Jamie began to slowly drag down the zipper of her trousers. She toyed with the chain of Jamie’s dogtags, winding it around her fingers at the back of Jamie’s neck. 

When Jamie began to tug down the material, Dani sat on the edge of the mattress so her pants could be peeled off and placed aside. Jamie leaned forward and stroked her tongue along the soft skin of Dani’s inner thigh, feeling a hand grip her hair when she bit down gently, and making a low dark sound in the back of her throat. 

Already Dani was moving her hips in small motions and Jamie hadn’t even started yet. Jamie laughed softly.

“What?” Dani breathed.

Jamie shook her head, but the movement was restricted somewhat by the tight grip Dani had on her hair. “Nothing,” she murmured and bowed forward to place her open mouth against slick wet and wanting heat.

Wanting nothing but this. The spread of Dani’s legs on either side of Jamie’s head. The taste of her when Jamie swiped her tongue in long slow strokes. The sound of her name gasped in Dani’s voice. The ache between her own legs as Dani rocked her hips to the rhythm Jamie set with a barely restrained urgency. 

Where last time had been fast and hard, Jamie did the opposite now. She traced Dani with the tip of her tongue as if trying to map her to memory, finding the best reactions and storing them away for later, for a time again with her that may never come. One of Dani’s heels came up to press into the small of Jamie’s back, and Jamie could feel the way the muscle of Dani’s inner thigh trembled against the side of her face. The same way her fingers trembled as they combed back Jamie’s hair. 

Want this, Jamie thought as Dani’s groan ended on a broken noise, as Dani’s hips arched up to press more firmly against her mouth while Jamie offered only a gentle suction. Want her. Want us. 

Dani hauled Jamie up by the chain around her neck to kiss her deeply. The kiss was slick and messy and tasted of her, and when they parted Dani was panting. 

“Did I mention,” Dani said breathlessly, “that I really like you?”

Jamie laughed and allowed herself to be pulled up onto the bed. Smiling broadly, Dani kissed her and rolled her over to start unbuttoning Jamie’s dark-washed slacks. Before she could do more than flick open the first of two buttons, Jamie placed her hands and Dani’s hips and encouraged her to rock against her thigh.

“That’s -” Dani swallowed back a reckless sound, her eyes squeezing shut. “I’m going to ruin your nice slacks.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Dani’s answering laugh was breathless. “Do you mean that literally, or -?”

The question died on her tongue when Jamie pressed her knee up and wedged a hand between them just enough that she could brush her thumb just so. She watched as Dani’s face screwed up, as her mouth dropped open and her hips bucked out of time until she came again — smaller this time, but no less gratifying.

Dani slowed to a halt, trying to catch her breath. “All right,” she said. “It’s definitely your turn.”

When they’d finished, Jamie sank bonelessly back onto the mattress. Their clothes were strewn all about the room, and the ship’s computer had set the lights to dim automatically to match a normalised sleep cycle, so that the ceiling was a map of constellations. Dani was stark naked and wiping her hands clean on a shirt with a self-satisfied expression before she crawled back up the bed and snuggled into Jamie’s side.

Jamie rolled onto her side and draped an arm across Dani’s waist to hold her loosely there. She needed to take a shower, but couldn’t find the energy within herself to get up. Not when recent sex had turned her bones to jelly, and not when Dani started to trace the curving lines of Jamie’s monochromatic tattoo. 

Exhaling slowly, Jamie sank further into the mattress. Her eyes slipped shut and she allowed herself this moment of brief respite. 

“Do you ever think,” Dani asked softly, “this was supposed to happen?” 

Blearily, Jamie opened her eyes, lulled half asleep by the way Dani was touching her. “What d’you mean?”

Dani shook her head, admiring the way her fingertips drifted across the pattern of ink on Jamie’s bare shoulder. “I don’t know. I just - When I chose the ship to Telos IV, it wasn’t the fastest or the cheapest or even the one leaving the soonest. I was still in shock, I think. From what had happened on Vurdon Ka. There was another transport leaving three hours earlier, heading towards the Outer Rim, but when the droid asked me what ticket I wanted I bought the one to Telos instead.” Her words slowed to a mumble, and her caress stopped. Dani stared at the flowers on Jamie’s skin as if in wonder. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Coincidence?” Jamie offered, watching the flicker of Dani’s brow in response.

Dani seemed to be trying to remember something intently. “Maybe, but it was so strange. I had this - this feeling. And when I landed on Telos, you know, I -” She broke off with a small incredulous laugh. “I walked straight to that bar. Just - straight there. Didn’t even ask for directions.”

Jamie blinked, more awake now. That hum of energy had returned, threading between them like an arc. Dani’s presence was stalwart, nothing wavering or questioning about it. 

“I don’t know anything about the Force,” Dani continued, “but I’m glad to have met you.” 

A smile tugged at the corner of Jamie’s mouth. It was brief but the warmth pooling in her chest was verdant and budding. “Yeah. Me too.”

—

Rebecca’s ship dropped out of hyperspace only three kilometers from the luxury cruiser, so that the two vessels drifted in orbit around Alderaan side by side. The planet below was a vast curved horizon of blues and greens, struck through with white cloud. Sitting in the pilot’s seat, Jamie noticed how Dani’s gaze kept drifting towards the broad windows of the left wing, staring out at the planet below with her shoulders tense and her hands clasped behind her back. 

The moment Rebecca’s ship came into view, Owen leaned over Jamie’s shoulder and hit the comm button, requesting a transmission, which was immediately picked up.

“Hello again,” Owen greeted jovially down the line. “We see you’ve just arrived in orbit. And might I say - your ship is exactly what I expected from a smuggler.”

“Aww, thanks,” said Rebecca, her video feed flickering into view. “I worked hard to get it just right.”

Rebecca’s ship was a single bladed shape of stark grey material, like a shark’s fin parting the surface of water. Jamie knew from experience that its small size could mislead larger ships into underestimating its speed and firepower. She also knew from experience that the sleeping cots were cramped and uncomfortable, and that more often than not Rebecca slept in a hammock strung up in the cockpit itself. 

Jamie elbowed Owen in the gut so she could have more room. “Status report?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “What are you? Fleet Commander Taylor?”

“Just tell me how we’re getting down to the surface without being noticed,” Jamie said.

“Funny you should ask that,” Rebecca replied, trailing off.

Owen made a face. “Oh, no. Is it bad?” 

“Well…”

“Get it over with,” groaned Jamie. She could hear Hannah and Dani walking closer to join the conversation. “Put me out of my misery.”

Rebecca hit a few buttons to switch over the feed, and the screen suddenly displayed a scene much nearer to the surface. She must have hacked into a few security cameras, because the view turned slowly alongside her tapping away in the background. A towering estate in slate greys with parapets like speartips jutting into the sky dominated the screen, flanked by snowy mountains. A broad bridge led to the front entrance, and a hundred or so guardsmen had set up allacrete bollards behind which they were taking cover to avoid incoming fire, peeking over to return volleys before crouching down again.

“That’s,” Dani said slowly, pointing towards a crest-emblazoned purple and red banner hanging from the manor walls on the screen, “House Thul.” 

Jamie squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head back towards the ceiling. “Don’t tell me.”

“They’re being besieged by the Sith Lord,” said Rebecca.

“I said don’t tell me.”

Hannah peered over Jamie’s shoulder to get a look at the screen. “Can you get us to the surface?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Rebecca. “But after that, I’m all out of ideas. I told you: I’m not a Core World girl. I don’t know Alderaan from a bottle of spotchka.” 

“I do.” 

Jamie opened her eyes and lowered her head. Beside her Dani had lifted her hand slightly as though waiting to be called on in class. “There’s a side entrance used primarily by servants and staff.”

“What? A side entrance dug all the way through the mountains?” Owen pointed to the snowy peaks pressed in tight on either side of the estate. 

“No, it’s here.” Dani tapped her finger against the screen just off to the side of where the camera was currently showing. “It’s where the guards sleep. You go through a security checkpoint and then down a tunnel which leads into a room off the great hall.” 

“Don’t think the security checkpoint won’t be a problem this time,” said Jamie.

“Yeah,” said Rebecca slowly as a guardsman on screen was shot dead and slumped to the ground, only to be pulled back over the bollard by one of his comrades. “They look a little occupied right now.” 

Chatter fizzed from another speaker on the dashboard. Frowning, Rebecca sat in the pilot’s seat and turned a dial until the frequency better matched. They could hear a staticky voice shouting frantic orders over the comm.

“That’s a Pub frequency,” Rebecca said. 

“The Empire has revealed its hand,” Owen said. “The Republic will be arriving with reinforcements soon.”

“Yeah, but not soon enough,” Jamie muttered darkly. 

Hannah hummed in agreement. “Unfortunately, yes. A fully fledged Sith Lord? They can tear this estate apart and be out with what they want before Republic troops make it into orbit.” 

“Yeah, well, hopefully we can do the same.” 

From the sidelines, Dani suddenly spoke, “Can we talk about the children for a sec?” When she had everyone’s attention, she took a deep breath and continued, “What’s going to happen to them now that we know they’re Force Sensitive?” 

She looked towards Jamie, who raised both hands and shook her head, pointing towards Owen and Hannah. Hannah was looking at Owen, who shrugged and made a gesture, which Hannah reacted to with an emphatic tilt of her head, the two of them engaged in the kind of silent conversation only two people who had been together for so long knew. 

“Are you going to share with the class?” Jamie drawled. “Or are you two lovebirds just going to keep having your weird psychic talk that nobody else can hear?”

Hannah gave Jamie an arch, brook-no-nonsense glare, while Owen stuck out his tongue at her. 

“I think it best if we take them back to Tython,” said Hannah to Dani. “There they can be trained in the Force properly.”

Some of the tension held in Dani’s jaw slackened, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks. I needed to hear that.” 

“Anything else we need to discuss before we leap into the fray?” Rebecca asked from the pilot’s seat. 

Silence. 

“Right,” said Jamie, hand on the holster of her blaster pistol. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

[kamuput]

Possible relationships of Ángel  dust

Introduction

Hello everyone, you are present in a somewhat hypothetical publication with a lot of speculation. I am not into making posts with fandom content, and I only did it to see who may have the same speculations or be different.

Sorry if I'm not that informed, I did my best to find out from the characters.

•

°

• It is currently known that Angel has not had a formal partner in the series.

• Before the series came out, Angel, if he had a respective partner, was going to do Vaggie at first, but Vivzie decided to change it to be with a guy named Tyco. An Ask was made between Angel and Tyco, which ended up being eliminated by the respective Vivizie.

It is unknown if Tyco will appear in the series or if he was simply eliminated.

Valentino

° It is observed that he has a relationship as a lover and company boss, Valentino only uses Ángel to please himself when he wants to, so far it has not been shown that Ángel does it on his own and is only forced by his boss to bed, so the spider is sexually abused.

• This only causes more difficulty in his life, apart from coping with his addiction, he has to endure the constant abuse of this supposed lover.

• Being a victim of sexual abuse causes the victim to have anxiety, fear and helplessness; the threat to life; the feeling of degradation; and the absolute loss of control.

• The attitudes that Ángel takes in his case of abuse is, it is difficult for him to tell others about his case of abuse because they feel ashamed of it and they begin to feel fear of how other people react, guilt for not having avoided it, compulsive sexual acts and low self-esteem.

° His relationship is TOO toxic, being exploited at work not receiving an acceptable salary and having his own boss steal all his earnings is complete shit, and let's not talk about the abuse, even so, on his instagram account you see:

He acted in a friendly way with Valentino because of the problem he had with Husk, so if Angel feels hurt or in any way rejects his reaction, it is to go with Valentino even knowing that he will feel more screwed up. Ángel desperately seeks the consolation and love of someone who "values" his actions and the only one he can turn to is Valentino, however his best friend is to support him is very different from receiving the affection of a lover or his partner.

•

°

Sir pentious

° Possible candidate to be Angel's boyfriend, now this character choice is more about how Angel can use having a relationship with him, whether it brings him a benefit or not. In general he is a good boy, he is the typical villain who thinks that they are merciless evil but that they are really silly and sweet; In the pilot he is the one who interacts with Angel the longest, he made sexual jokes that he could not understand but part of the snake we see some discomfort about it, so it stands out that Sir Pentious does not see Angel because of his body but more as a kind of "hassle" that can ruin your evil plans as a supervillain. In short, it is your nemesis.

• We have that in Angel's account he is interested in him but more physically, he has commented on some photos on his instagram but part of the snake does not receive any response so Angel's interests are not so strong.

As Sir Pentious considers Angel more like a nemesis, he does not consider him a romantic interest until as little as possible they could have a friendship, or simply a relationship of hate and love. It is not known if the character brings him boys or girls, so it is doubtful if he could connect with Angel.

° If they were to have a romantic relationship with Angel, it would go very well and his lust would be lowered by the fact that Sir Pentious does not understand sexual jokes and would even say sexual advances, it would be a relationship between learning sexually how to satisfy your partner.

•

°

Alastor

° About Alastor, I have not seen much interaction with Angel but part of Angel can be seen that he likes it or likes it in a certain way.

• On Angel's Instagram account you don't see any interaction with Alastor or a photo that he wanted to take of him, as Husk and Niffty tried.

• He clarified that Alastor doesn't like modern things and that is why he doesn't have an Instagram account.

° I had to see some comics of this ship to understand in some way how this couple would work, since it is known that Alastor is asexual even so he can have a partner without having any kind of sexual relationship.

• However, the probability that he has a close friendship, I see it coming, Angel only looks at the sexual thing and almost most of the men who are interested in him are because of his physique, that is why before male parts they are hinted to see who is the one who doesn't treat him just like a piece of meat. Alastor rejected the offer to suck his cock, before that reaction the interest that Angel would have towards him could be given.

° If they were in a relationship with Angel, he could not have any kind of sexual relationship with Alastor, the only thing he could do with him, is say romantic words, hold hands and even a light hug. Angel would not be so in agreement with this because he would still want to have sex with his partner, although I see the possibility that Alastor can castrate him.

•

°

Husk

° Let's talk about Husk, it is seen that he has addiction problems similar to Angel's; Their addictions are different but they are addicted in the same way and both know they are aware that this brings them down but they are afraid to face it.

• In the pilot, when Angel saw Husk, there were flashes in his eyes, and what he thought at that moment could have been "We both have addiction problems that we find difficult to overcome but perhaps we can help each other"; his interactions on instagram show many signs of being interested in both and gradually reaching a friendship or something closer to a friendship.

• But in one of their publications they had a small dispute, they do not show how Ángel on his part takes the initiative to solve his debts without paying, at first he offered his body and causes Husk an upset, then in the end he made the decision to pay him.

 (here I will talk about instagram publications if you have not seen them yet, I send you to see them https: //www.instagram. com / angie_fluffy_bootz /)

• Husk in this dispute felt the victim because he began to feel insecurity in their relationship, since he began to give a lot of himself in a certain way without receiving something from Angel. Then Husk for a moment had felt that he was being used and they were taking advantage of his gratitude.

• Angel's last 6 posts were about her work and some were to get the kitten's attention. Husk, for his part, ignored him all the time and had more hangovers than ever so I wonder if he missed him in any way. Husk is a Tsunder and an insecure character, so I accept his insecurity that he may not feel Sure even because of how he feels about Angel and that's why he has that attitude.

• In the end, Angel if he managed to return all the money to Husk, Husk realized that Angie would do anything for him, well if he cared, but the sweet kitten that he is, he only took 5 dollars, his intention of not It was making fun of Ángel if not in telling him to take advantage of the money he earns and buy what he really needs. Now Angel is angry about it; in his last post that has mmm ... well he did not respond kindly to the kitten, apparently he is upset because he does not take all the money so now the roles are reversed.

° We do not know anything about Husk's past, I would like to know what was the reason why he "did not feel love", it could be that it was in hell or when he was alive. Anyway, being with Angel will teach him to love again and to feel safe, like Angel. I feel that he would be the right person to help him suspend his traumas and the abuse he has with Valentido, both characters would develop a lot but we can see that in the series and not so much in the instagram account.

•

°

conclusion

Angel will have a boyfriend but it will be like an experience, it could be any of them but the one who is close to having one would be Sir Pentinous and Husk.

•

°

Credits to the images and drawings used to their respective creators thanks

[sassy-headcanons]

Hancon Headcanons:

Who hogs the duvet

Surprisingly Connor does. He powers down for the night and just rolls over . Hank is left with no covers staring at the ceiling contemplating what he’s gotten himself into

Who texts/rings to check how their day is going

I don’t feel like they really need to. They live and work together. They’re really only apart when Hank’s taking a shit. Connor does know not to try and keep a conversation going when Hank’s in the bathroom alone, something about talking while on the toilet makes his skin crawl.

Who gets up first in the morning

Connor because of his android systems only needing a certain amount of sleep to be at full capacity. Even if he was human though, he’d still get up before Hank. That man can sleep for 16 hours and still be tired when he wakes up.

Who suggests new things in bed

CONNOR. He is not some blushing virgin afraid of sex. He was made to learn and investigate crimes. He wants to know everything and anything and Hank is more than willing to show him.

Who cries at movies

Hank, but he tries to keep it in

Who gives unprompted messages

Connor. He is still learning social cues and sometimes just sneaks up on Hank to tell him he looks nice today or something soft like that

What They’re like when they’re sick

Hank: Oh my fuckling god he would be such a hassle to deal with. Whether it be seasonal allergies or the flu he is a drama queen and blows everything out of proportion.

Connor: Connor can’t get sick , but I like the idea of computer viruses getting into androids systems and creating cold and flu-like symptoms. So, Connor would be running warm like a cellphone that gets left under the covers for too long and his blue blood would be steadily dripping from his nose like a runny nose. Lots of system reboots and about a day worth of sluggishness and he’d be back to his usual adorable self.

Who gets jealous easiest

I feel like it’s a draw. Humans flirt with Hank and Connor starts seeing green, Androids flirt with Connor, and Hank gets a little grumpy. However, if androids start flirting with Hank.. Connor’s about to fuck a bitch up.

Who collects something unusual

So we know the androids can store memories in their hard drives. So what if Connor has a little folder hidden in his systems that’s just still shots and videos of Hank smiling?

Who is the tidiest and organized

CONNOR! We’ve all seen Hank house

Who gets most excited about the holidays

Hank has a really difficult time celebrating the holidays because of his son, but after seeing how excited Connor got about the idea of Christmas and Hanukkah and everything else he decided to try and start new.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon

Hank likes to be a little spoon, but it was something he was never comfortable telling his ex-wife. He’s used to be the big strong man in the relationship, but in walks Connor with his behavior analyzing software, and just knowing . I don’t see them falling asleep spooning but before bed cuddles are a sure thing. Connor one night, without saying anything, just flips Hank over and snuggles up behind him, wrapping his human up in his arms, and pecks a kiss on his neck. Doing what Hank does to him when the roles are reversed and Hank just fucking melts.

Who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Connor but only because he should be able to win without trying, so the few times Hank or another human have beat him at something sparks something deep in his hardware.

Who starts the most arguments

Hank’s temper likes to rear its ugly head at the worst of times, especially when Hank is wrong but doesn’t want to admit it. Connor can be a little slow on the social uptake, but he will not stand for being talked down to and before you know it an argument has started, and neither wants to stand down

Who suggests that they buy a pet

Sumo is adorable and loved by everyone, but Connor is for sure a cat person and I feel like he and Hank would adopt an android cat that missing parts from a previous abusive owner and name it after the lead singer of their favorite metal band

What couple traditions they have

Connor starts taking Hank to Cole’s grave on a regular basis again to help him grieve and afterward he rewards Hank with the greasiest carb disaster of a burger for working through his trauma without being self-destructive

What tv shows they watch together

Hank likes showing Connor reruns of shows he was watching as a kid/teen. Connors favorite so far is Wizards of Waverley Place

How they spend time together as a couple

Listening to music in the car is a staple in their relationship. Outside of work, they like to take Sumo to the dog park and go on walks together.

Who made the first move

They had one of those rom-com moments where they both started to confess their feeling at the same time, stop, and laugh at the silliness of the situation.

Who brings flowers home

Connor because that’s what the other deviant told him people do for those they care for. Hank at first doesn’t know how to feel because no one has ever done that for him before, but soon it becomes a ritual for them.

Who is the best cook

Connor hands down, anything Hank makes is slightly burnt and dripping in grease.

Who snores

Hank

[sou-ver-2-0]

what are your thoughts on nao as a character?

Anon, I'm delighted that you asked me about Nao! I've wanted to write something about Nao for the longest time, but it's hard to find the words. The thing is, I love Nao so much!! She is a character who hits close to home for me. I feel like I knew lots of Naos growing up, and I'm a bit like Nao myself. The people I grew closest to in school were the shy artist kids. If I were in the Death Game, I hope I would be brave like Reko, but...then I see Nao, and I see the more vulnerable parts of myself reflected back at me. 

I think Nao is difficult for me to analyze because she has no filter. I’m more guarded with my feelings, even when I’m frightened of the world. You could call Nao crazy or hysterical, but the problem isn't with Nao; the problem is with the Death Game. We could even say that Nao is the only one reacting properly to being trapped in a Death Game. Isn't this the perfect time to panic?

When I first saw Nao, I immediately assumed that she would die. Out of all the characters, I was most certain that Nao would not survive. Sure, she might get to be comic relief for a while, but I couldn't imagine her being anything more than that. A punchline. An easy target. 

Imagine my surprise when Nao became much more than that! "Nao is a strong person," Sara says near the beginning of Chapter 2. Sara admires Nao's maturity in being able to process her grief for her beloved teacher. She contrasts this with her own inability to get over Joe. I thought that was an astounding moment, for our brave protagonist to praise the young woman consistently derided in the narrative as weak. It meant a lot to me that Sara would look up to someone like Nao, when Nao is fully aware of her own weaknesses. But Nao is braver than she knows, and Sara readily points that out to the player.

While Nao always wears her heart on her sleeve, she also makes a serious effort to be a useful team member. She wants to be helpful. She cares about her companions and thinks of them as her friends, especially Reko and Sara. One of the bravest decisions Nao makes is to kill Fake Reko so that Sara won't have to carry that awful burden by herself. It was a painful decision, but it was the only way she could save either Gin or the real Reko. No matter what Sara chooses, Nao is there to take responsibility in the end. Nao is a good friend.

Nao shows us how far she's grown when she secretly teams up with Shin to defeat the Rogue Mishima AI. It was a risky plan but they pulled it off. And it's a fantastic reversal of how Nao was pitted against Shin with the frying pan in Chapter 1. Nobody is using her now; Nao has agency and she's using it however she wants! For Nao to trust in Shin shows that she believes in people's capacity for change, which is an admirable quality. Additionally, she is able to inspire others to believe in Shin as well, which was integral to the escape plan--a plan that nearly worked.

It's easy for me to draw parallels between Nao and Shin, since they are both deeply emotional people. However, Shin hides those emotions and refuses to trust in people, while Nao embraces her emotions and tries to trust in everyone. It wasn't an easy path for either of them. But they were able to find a balance in their hearts for a short time when they formed an alliance. They were both growing as stronger people, more open-hearted yet wiser.

But growth isn't always linear. By this time, I was enthralled by Nao's character development and I had started to believe that she would survive. So the reveal that she was going to die anyway devastated me. Even though Nao had worked so hard to be a braver person, receiving the Sacrifice Card shook her to the core and made her feel weak again. In her weakest moment, Nao asks Sara to leave the others to die and escape with her. While completely understandable, the narrative contrasts Nao's selfish request with the selfless requests of both Shin and Kanna. Nao is here to remind us that humans are often weak-hearted. It’s hard to be brave.

If Sara takes Nao's hand, then Nao once again insists on taking responsibility herself, just like she did with killing Fake Reko. I think Nao's insistence on taking responsibility isn't simply bravery; it also reflects her low self-esteem. Nao doesn't want a worthy person like Sara to suffer from guilt, but Nao doesn't view herself as a worthy person.

If Sara refuses Nao, then Nao feels a burden lifted from her shoulders since she avoided hurting anyone else. However, she spends her final moments screaming that she doesn't want to die. Out of everyone, Nao's death breaks my heart the most. Other characters die with dignity or heroics. Nao has neither. She was just a shy art student who wanted to live. It didn't matter how much she grew when the game was always rigged against her.

Nao is a character who means a lot to me. I love her weak heart because it's deeply human, but that makes her brave moments that much more meaningful. I wish that she had lived, but her death was a pivotal moment in the narrative for me. I had gone from assuming this character would die to being shocked that she could die. Even though her fate was tragic, I'm grateful to Nankidai for creating her.

[fallout-lou-begas]

Questions for OC Creators

Shamelessly stole this from @tarberrymentats​‘ post because I’m always a sucker for behind-the-scenes character inspiration and meaning stuff, so if you steal this in turn, feel free to tag me!

(I’m also stealing Halk’s usage of lovely art by @yesjejunus​ for this one 🖤)

Agnes Sands, Courier Six of the Mojave Express

A) Why are you excited about this character?

Agnes was an opportunity to create what felt like a very unorthodox OC, and it’s an opportunity that has certainly paid off. She’s not young, and she’s not a particularly pleasant or easygoing person to be around, but she’s also not the endearingly tragic loner type or a badass army-of-one. She’s not “spunky” or “fun” and isn’t the kind of Fallout character who’s necessarily motivated to do every quest, meet every companion, accomplish every thing. She’s not an important person; being an important person is anathema to her, and the looming, overarching themes of It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ are these ideas of the hard limits on unlikely heroism, and how you really can’t fly that far on circumstance and luck. I’m very excited for everyone to see how it goes when the going gets tough.

Furthermore, the design and writing process for Agnes was very informed by finding justifications, reasons, and origins for all of her personality traits, skills, and various hang-ups. The result is a character that feels, to me, so deeply real and well-rounded and alive, that Agnes is a person who has lived every one of her 34 years of age, and that in each of those years were key developments that molded her into the person she is. When I write her, I feel like I know her because of how intimately I’ve researched and come to understand the life she’s led. I don’t want to say it comes effortlessly, but there’s a very genuine, sculpted depth to her character that I’m proud of, and it forms the bedrock of It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’.

It is also very important to me that Agnes is a trans woman, and is a trans woman who looks the way she does with a strong jaw and a big nose and long face and a wide body and hairy arms and so many other “masculine” features, because I wanted to create a character with a very real, visceral, visible transness to them, and for this transness to be a meaningful part of her character that informs her relationship to other people and the scarce world of the Mojave Wasteland instead of just an auxiliary character trait. She is no less of a woman for existing the way she does, but I simply wasn’t interested in creating a character or interpreting the Mojave Wasteland in a way that wouldn’t meaningfully grapple with what it really feels like, to me, to be a trans woman.

B) What inspired you to create them?

Many of Agnes’ character traits actually come from mechanical and specialization decisions that I play in game. I often joke that Agnes “just plain sucks,” but it’s true that in my Fallout: New Vegas game, I have encumbrance set to a measly 25 lbs without backpacks (necessitating her shoulder-slung duffel bag), use a directional flashlight instead of the Pip-Boy light (necessitating the shoulder-mounted flashlight), play with dramatically decreased total S.P.E.C.I.A.L. and skill points per level (which is why she’s so bad-to-average at most things except key specialties), and so on. This was the most obvious level of inspiration, and much of Agnes’ personality and backstory is reverse-engineered to justify the aspects of her character suggested and represented by her mechanical stats.

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

Epiphanies have come over time, but ultimately I more or less hammered out Agnes’ whole “story” upfront. I have a detailed character bible saved away that covers not only her entire life pre-courier, but the story beats of her experience as the courier thrown into the center of the events of Fallout: New Vegas and the seismic geopolitical power plays leading up to the second battle of Hoover Dam. So, uh, stay tuned for each new issue of IKROAH!

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

I wouldn’t say that I’ve meant to meaningfully change her appearance over time, but as I’ve been working on the comic, I’ve simply gotten better at drawing and the result has been an Agnes that more consistently looks like how I want her to look. One deliberate change to her appearance has been that her hair is a lot fluffier and voluminous than it used to be, just because a few other peoples’ fanart of her would be like that and I really liked how it looked.

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

Hard to say. Agnes has such a defensive, prickly, and particular personality and is so shy and anxious that she’s someone very hard to get along with in general, regardless of who you are. Cass could only ply her through a combination of drunken genuineness and total embarrassment that razor-cut right to her trauma. I don’t think I’d have the...audacious wherewithal to be that blunt with her if we’d just met. The best case scenario is that she imprints on me as a younger trans woman and feels compelled to look out for me because if there’s one soft spot she has, it’s that.

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Pride at the amount of work I’ve put into developing her and crafting her story so far, pride at how it’s been such a rewarding and enjoyable vehicle for getting so much better at art and writing since this summer, and occasionally sadness just because, man, I really let her fucking have it sometimes, huh.

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

Her solitary lifestyle made it necessary to find a way to write Cass into the story, just so that there would be some more dialogue while she traveled. She has a lot of interpersonal flaws, her habit of going from totally reclusive and private to hollering mad with no steps in between would certainly be off-putting to me especially. She gets a bad, sad, crying kind of angry, and she doesn’t get there quick but she goes get there suddenly.

H) What trait do you admire most?

She has a dedication to her and a commitment to what she’s good at. She understands the value of stability, good work and a good job. Sometimes this value is so much to her that it keeps her stagnant, and she’s very much a person who’s stuck in their ways in so many regards, but there’s a resilience to her that may not be obvious at first, but that she simply wouldn’t have gotten this far or survived without.

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?

Agnes’ story is so tailored to the source material of Fallout: New Vegas that I thought that transplanting her into other AUs would be difficult, but it’s actually been pretty seamless inserting her into the a modern AU with a few friends called Courier House, where instead of being a courier, she kept up her medical training and works as an EMT. That also spun off into a modern zombie AU, which is just fun and tragic in a lot of juicy ways.

I also have a lot of thoughts on an AU in which she makes it to the Commonwealth, in which she’d become Nick’s partner at the eventually-renamed Valentine and Sands Detective Agency, helping to solve cases of burglary and theft, B&E, and advises on various security concerns. She’d also get extremely invested in tracking down missing children. There are a lot of parallels and dramatic development potential between Agnes Sands and Nick Valentine that I’d kill for more time to explore one day.

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

I didn’t have to, no, but I chose to and at least filled in some holes. My theory on transitional health care in the wasteland is all my own (the Followers are the primary manufacturer and distributor of hormones, which can be inefficiently synthesized from Auto-Docs so they’re not impossible to find but are considerably rare) and I’ve taken some liberties in the IKROAH canon so far for convenience, such as Primm never getting taken over by convicts and the Cassidy Caravans buyout offer being a letter at the Mojave Express instead of something she’d have had to get personally from Alice McLafferty later on. Expect a lot more little twists like this in the future.

[roselen-mylady]

In Another Life

Bucky Barnes x reader ° part ten

Summary: Waiting 88 years to find your soulmate? It was cruel. But it was a cruel fate Bucky would have to face whether he accepted it or not. Bucky was a tortured man all his life and he wasn't even granted the solace of having his soulmate at his side. All he had was the promise of one in another life. They were separated by two different times.

But the pain in their lives were connected.

Y/n had been alone ever since she could remember. All she could depend on was the soulmate that was destined to be at her side. Yet when the snap occurred she lost him.

And Bucky never got to meet her.

Though Steve showed no signs of leaving or the anger Y/n had feared, she still felt the anxiety that came from revealing her true past. He was supportive, as he always was and so was everyone else once they were told. Tony only had a mere, 'I knew it' to add to the subject and while Y/n was touched, she couldn't help the array of things she felt. 

Foolish was one of them. Hiding her past from them before was stupid but Steve insisted that her going underground was probably best since HYDRA would've searched for her. While that brought her some solace she was still uncomfortable with the idea of becoming more involved. Something always went wrong and Nat was proof. 

She missed her friend badly and Y/n couldn't help but feel it was her own cursed luck that had taken Nat. It was ridiculous to think that she could ever be happy. Stupid to think she could help her friends bring back everyone. Stupid to think she might actually meet her soulmate.  

"Hey, kid. We're going to put the stones together." Tony cut into Y/n's racing thoughts. Her gaze lifted from the drawing Steve had given her, settling on Tony as he leaned in through the doorway. 

She didn't know why she was still looking at the picture or why she had even accepted it. She wanted to believe she was still furious, still resentful. Wanted to force all the pain and guilt she felt into him once more. But in all reality she was just so lost. For years she pretended to be someone else and now that she was free to be the girl she once was, she didn't even remember who that was. 

A genius? A hero? A terrified little orphan? She had no idea but she didn't want to be any. She wanted to be Y/n, a friend and a psychiatrist. She now understood why Steve wanted her around. He needed someone to remind him of who he was, who he truly was. 

Was James that person once? 

Was that why she found herself gazing at the sketch, hoping for a split second that maybe she could go back to the moment that was drawn? Praying to go back to a time where James Barnes was fighting for his past and his own will. A time where he might comfort her like he did Steve over the death of Nat. A time where his thoughts were his own and so we're his actions. 

Y/m almost hated herself for despising him. Though she knew there was still much to his story she was too scared to ask, she knew he was nothing more than a tortured soul with a gun. She couldn't figure out how the man in the drawing was the same man who'd nearly killed her. 

It wasn't.  

Noticing her broken expression, Tony hesitantly stepped into the room coming to sit with her. Her fingers gently held the page and he looked down at it, recognizing the face instantly. It sent a chill through his spine, seeing the same face almost ripped the arc reactor straight from his chest. 

It had taken him years to forgive Steve but he still struggled to do the same with the man who murdered his parents in cold blood. All the hatred toward his parents' assassin had gone unresolved since Steve and Bucky left him at that frozen HYDRA base. And once forgiving Steve, Tony had no other outlet and he found it difficult to sit there with the picture.

So he tried to focus on something else.  

"So, you and Ms. Romanoff were close?" He mumbled trying poorly to begin consoling her. She nodded numbly, folding the paper and setting it aside. 

The emotions she felt were mixed and intense making it hard for her to filter through her feelings but one surfaced more than others. Guilt. 

"Ever since the snap." She replied, her shoulders slack. Tony and Nat had their own relationship, one much older than her own but they'd been apart for so long. Ever since Nat went off the grid with Steve and even after the snap when he distanced himself from all of them, they hardly interacted. But they were friends. The type of friends that wouldn't be parted even by death. 

"Do you think things would be different if I hadn't showed up?" Y/n asked him suddenly. He looked over at her studying her guilt ridden eyes that she kept trained on the floor. It was a familiar look, one he wore often. But not one he wanted her to. 

"Natasha wasn't the type of person to let anyone dictate her choices. I think she was ready to give her life for a cause and none of us could've stopped her." Tony sighed, the weight of her death finally reaching its max. "Not even a couple of geniuses." 

•••

"Let's hope this doesn't blow up." Tony mumbled next to her. The small group consisting of them with the addition of Bruce and Rocket stood in the lab, waiting in anticipation as Tony carefully placed the stones in the gauntlet. With his shaking hands it was difficult to be precise while he manipulated the machine but he managed to place all six stones in their respective places. They held their breath unsure if the stones would react or blow up the lab as Tony feared.  

"Boom!" Rocket yelled suddenly making all of them flinch. He began to laugh loudly and they all turned to him with annoyed looks. Y/n slapped the back of his head, cutting his laughing short as she walked off trying to ignore the trembling in her legs. Tony muttered something under his breath moving to bring the gauntlet to a more accessible area for the wearer. 

"You're an asshole." Y/n groaned. Tony walked past them, putting the gauntlet on a display table that made it hover a couple inches above. 

"Come on, it was funny!" Rocket argued, earning an unamused stare from both Tony and Y/n. 

It took a few minutes for Bruce to collect everyone but eventually everyone was gathered around the gauntlet. Most had expressions Y/n familiarized with PTSD and once following their gazes she realized their experience with the gauntlet Thanos wore was resurfacing. 

Hopefully, with the new one they'd be able to reverse what he'd done. But the trauma would stay. That she knew. 

"All right. The glove's ready. Question is, who's gonna snap their fucking fingers?" Rocket questioned, looking up at the group. Their options were limited since most people in the room were only human, even Steve. 

"I'll do it." Thor volunteered without hesitation. He drunkenly stepped forward making everyone turn to him with confused and reluctant looks. Their choices were limited but they weren't desperate enough to put such a powerful object on a drunk god.  

"Excuse me?" Scott asked, glancing around at the others for one of them to tell Thor what a bad idea it was. 

"It's okay." Thor insisted, marching forward with a purpose. Steve moved to stop him with the help of Tony making the poor large man pause. 

"No, no, no, whoa. Stop. Stop. Wait a sec. Hey, hey–" Everyone was a mess of refusal and Thor's face turned hurt as he tried to continue. 

"Wait, wait, Thor, just wait. We haven't decided who's gonna put that on yet." Steve explained. Thor shifted on his feet, clearly upset with their rejection.  

"I'm sorry. What, we're just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?" He asked,

annoyed. Scott looked to Y/n hoping she might use some of her 'therapist powers' he called them after realizing she really couldn't read minds. 

"We should at least discuss it." Y/n tried to reason. Thor shook his head stubbornly, swaying unsteadily on his feet. 

"No, no, sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back. I'm the strongest Avenger, okay? So this responsibility falls upon me. It's my duty." He told them, gesturing to the gauntlet then himself. 

"It's not about that–" Tony told him gently, coming to stand in front of him as he started to move Thor back. Thor resisted but was unsuccessful as he started to grow emotional. "Hey buddy-" Tony tried again only to be cut short by Thor frantically shushing him and everyone else. 

"Stop it! Just let me! Just let me do it. Just let me do something good. Something right." Thor begged, tears filling his eyes. He was desperate to prove he was worthy, to prove he could still be the hero he once was. 

"Look– It's not just the fact that that glove is channeling enough energy to light up a continent, I'm telling you, you're in no condition." Tony fought. There was no way they were going to let him hold the fate of the world in his hand while he was drunk. Even the Thor he was years ago shouldn't have held that kind of power, it was too risky. 

"What do you– What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?" Thor asked, his eyes studying Tony's for any kind of hope that might tell him they would let him make the sacrifice. 

"Cheez Whiz?" Rhodey scoffed, earning a glare from Y/n. Thor looked over at Rhodey pointing a shaky finger at him as he tried not to cry in frustration. He held onto Tony, grasping at his shoulders and prying Tony's attention away from Rhodey's comment. 

"Lightning." Thor corrected, looking back to Tony with pleading eyes. Tony nodded but he knew he couldn't allow Thor to wear the gauntlet. "Lightning." Thor repeated, distraught but Tony's reaction. 

"Lightning won't help you, pal. It's gotta be me." Bruce announced suddenly. Thor shook his head letting go of Tony. "You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive." Bruce explained. 

"How do we know you will?" Steve questioned as Bruce paced over to the gauntlet. 

"We don't. But the radiation's mostly gamma. It's like...I was made for this." Bruce mumbled. He gazed intensely at the stones, silently calculating his odds. If the Hulk couldn't handle this, was this really how he was going to die? And if so would it even work? 

They looked at each other knowing it was their best chance at bringing them back. They had to take it. 

Tony stepped forward, grabbing the gauntlet and handing it to Bruce as they headed to a more secure part of the lab. 

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Y/n asked Bruce quietly. She knew how Nat's death had affected him and she refused to make the same mistake with him. 

"Yes. We have to finish this." He declared. Y/n watched as he paced forward to catch up with Tony as she lagged behind to Steve. 

"Do you think this will work?" Steve questioned. Y/n chewed her lip anxiously, focusing her stare at the gauntlet as Steve came to stand beside her. 

"Bruce's gamma radiation is stronger and most equipped to handle the energy but it's still dangerous. The stones are too powerful together, I didn't think they were ever really meant to be used together." She sighed, hating the sacrifices that came with saving the world. If they lost someone else just for this to not work was it really even worth trying? 

"Bruce is strong." Steve tried to ease her worry but it wasn't enough. 

"I know. I just-I can't keep losing people, Steve. It's like a curse. Every time I try to do something good…-" 

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You're not gonna lose anyone else. Not on my watch." Steve promised but both of them knew it was practically empty. There was no guarantee. "Let's just bring everyone back." 

Y/n tried to smile but like his promise it was hollow. "Yeah, okay." 

"Good to go, yeah?" Tony questioned as Bruce carefully held the piece in his large hands. He seemed anxious but who wouldn't be in that situation. 

"Let's do it." He confirmed as Y/n and Steve returned to the group. She walked around him, stopping beside Tony and sharing a steady nod. 

"You remember–everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago, you're just bringing them back to now, today. Don't change anything from the last five years." Tony told him seriously.

"Got it." Bruce assured. Then suddenly the room grew quiet and a tenseness settled in the air that Y/n was too amazed to catch onto. For the first time she realized she was living the dream of millions of people. Everyone had readied themselves and Y/n watched as they stood there in their superhero uniforms, the power and determination they all had washing over her. 

Tony pressed his chest allowing his suit to expand and morph to his body, a shield lighting up before him. His stare then drifted to Y/n who still stood there in her casual clothes, watching them all confused and out of place. Why were they getting ready now? They were doing this here? 

"Hey, kiddo. Come on." Tony urged, motioning to her earpiece. She gave a soft 'oh' mimicking him as she pressed the button making her own suit appear. A shield of her own design came to her forearm and Tony eyed it curiously. 

"Did you mess with the suit?" He asked, the seriousness in his tone startling her a bit. She shrugged, looking at him defensively. 

"Yeah, you said it was just a prototype so I fixed it a bit." She explained. He looked away, grateful she couldn't see the entertained smirk on his lips as he turned back to Bruce. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., do me a favor and activate Barn Door Protocol. Will you?" Tony called. Y/n had gotten used to the suit during the time she could spare to examine it and she put 70% power into the armor, figuring if something did go wrong it probably wouldn't hurt to be a little more protected. 

"Yes, boss." F.R.I.D.A.Y replied. Metal doors began to close off the lab as the compound went into lockdown and if the seriousness of the situation hadn't set in yet it definitely did then as Y/n widened her stance to try and brace herself. 

"Everybody comes home." Bruce reminded himself, cautiously reaching his hand into the gauntlet. The gauntlet expanded to fit his hand thanks to Tony's nanotech but as soon as it was fully on the power of the stones surged through him. He grunted in pain collapsing to his knees as the energy began to burn into his arm. 

"Take it off! Take it off!" Thor cried, waving his hands as Bruce shakily held the gauntlet. Steve stepped forward, keeping anyone from acting. 

"No, wait. Bruce, are you okay?" Steve questioned. He knew more than anyone that just because something was painful didn't mean they couldn't do it. 

"Talk to me, Banner." Tony called, becoming more concerned with each unresponsive moment. Y/n started moving to help but froze as Bruce looked up at them.  

"I'm okay. I'm okay." He insisted. They eased up a little and everyone watched carefully as he tried to regain control of the stones. Thor gave a double thumbs up, watching the scene before him with an astounded expression. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y what are his vitals?" Y/n questioned anxiously. Charts bloomed around Bruce and she quickly read them realizing his heart rate was dangerously high. In fact everything was high, his blood pressure, his respiration rate, even his body temperature had increased. Bruce screamed again, fighting the instinct to remove the gauntlet from the overwhelming pain it caused him as he lined up his fingers. 

The world seemed to stop at the echoing of the snap, the fated sound she'd only heard about for five years finally filling her head the same way it had for the others. 

He fainted and the gauntlet fell off his arm, clattering on the floor before Clint quickly kicked it away from him. 

"Bruce!" Steve called, kneeling beside him as the others rushed forward to check on him. Y/n tugged the remains of his sleeve back gently as Tony kneeled beside her, holding up his hand. 

"Don't move him." Tony demanded, applying a coolant spray from his fingertips over Bruce's arm. Bruce groaned, reaching out and grabbing Steve's arm urgently. 

"Did it work?" He questioned breathlessly, keeping his large hand tight around Steve's arm. Thor gave him a reassuring smile while Y/n looked over the damage of his arm. 

"We're not sure. It's okay." Thor soothed, his voice hopeful as he turned his gaze toward the door where the lab was starting to open up again. Scott walked off to the now open area and some of the others spread out to see what had happened but Y/n stayed at Bruce's side. 

"You did great, Bruce." She told him, giving him a smile to which he returned, though it was a bit more pained. A muted vibrating came from the table on the other side of the room and Y/n turned to see Clint walking over to it almost numb. 

Did it work? 

"Honey? Honey." Clint spoke, his voice quivering in joy as Y/n looked at Tony. They shared a wide eyed glance, both rattled by the idea that they might have actually won. 

Y/n wished to look at her wrist, praying that the countdown she had before the snap returned. She couldn't even remember how many days it had read back then but it didn't matter anymore. She just wanted to meet her soulmate. Would he be looking for her?  

Were his eyes really blue? 

But their victory couldn't last long and Y/n knew that as she followed Bruce's gaze to the skylight above them. There flying menacingly above the compound was the biggest spacecraft she had ever seen and dread instantly set in upon seeing the missile coming their way. 

"Look out!" Y/n screamed, trying to warn the others but it was too late. Her helmet quickly came forward along with her shield which she tried desperately to put over Bruce's head, protecting her and him from falling debris. But the roof wasn't the only thing falling apart. 

The floor split and some of the group fell into the large hole while Y/n struggled to regain her balance. She quickly looked around her, catching sight of Steve sliding across the floor toward the hole. Using the thrusters, she launched forward, grabbing hold of one of the straps to his uniform and dragging him back toward Tony. 

The building was falling down around them and any means of escape were closing off faster than she could find them. Steve managed to climb to his feet again but before either of them could come up with a plan a large piece of the roof fell, striking Y/n down. She cried out falling through the floor to the room below, getting pinned on her stomach under the roofing. 

"Y/n!" Steve yelled, peering down into the hole. Y/n gasped, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Tony looked down too, the two men struggling to keep themselves up as they waited anxiously for her to speak. 

"Minimal damage to prototype armor." F.R.I.D.A.Y announced making Y/n groan. She slowly lifted herself up using her back to push off the rumble before leaning back on her knees, panting slightly. 

"You call that minimal?" She questioned, annoyed. Tony chuckled through the headset, her reply giving him a little relief knowing she was alright.  

"The suits can handle more than we can, kid." He explained. Y/n grumbled, climbing to her feet. She didn't care how durable the suit was, she was still very much human inside the metal and every hit the suit felt, she did too. 

"Are you okay?" Steve called, leaning closer to the edge of the hole. Tony put a hand on his chest, keeping him from falling in while Y/n slowly climbed to her feet. 

"Yeah. I'm fine, Steve." She waved her hand pretending to be nonchalant before coughing from how forcefully her lungs had been emptied. They were about to attempt to go down to her when the floor they were on shifted and Steve fell over, sliding off to another part in the lab. 

"Cap!" Tony called, trying to reach out and catch him. Steve called back that he would be alright giving Tony a little assurance as he turned his gaze back to Y/n. "This building is falling apart!" He called down to her. 

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, looking around at the floor around her. She had landed in the living room area, one of her favorite places but like the rest of the facility it was falling to ruin. 

"Find the stones. We can't risk losing them." Tony instructed. Y/n let out a short sigh, the weight of the task making her stomach turn. 

"Is it too late to go home?" She joked. Tony smiled softly unbeknownst to Y/n. The building shook again with another hit and he knew he wouldn't have long to talk to her. 

"No." He answered truthfully. If she could find a way out, there would be nothing stopping her. She could easily fly away and forget about this. "But you know what they say. It only takes one fight to make a hero." Tony explained. 

Y/n pierced her lips, knowing that she never really intended on leaving. She was all in from the moment Scott had been yelling into the camera and though she'd been doubtful before, she knew this was where she was meant to be. 

"Go be Iron Star." Tony chuckled, making her scoff and shake her head. Of course, he had to ruin the moment. 

"We really gotta talk about that name!" She called, turning away and running off toward the window to her left. Using the thrusters in the metallic boots she flew forward and smashed through the glass, unsteadily keeping herself in the air outside. 

"Just find the stones." 

•••

When Bucky had woken up he was right where he'd been in Wakanda. T'Challa ran to him trying very hastily to explain what had happened. They had been gone for five years according to the wizard man they called 'Strange' and now they needed to come fight Thanos again. 

While Bucky was usually quick to understand and move on to the next fight, he couldn't help but stop at this news. He'd promised himself that the fight with Thanos was the last time so that he could find his soulmate but he was still fighting. When would it stop?

For a split second he feared maybe his chance at meeting his soulmate had come and gone and he frantically ripped back his right sleeve to look at his wrist. 

"3 days?" Sam asked, peeking down at Bucky's arm as T'Challa organized his army. Bucky numbly nodded, his heart racing as he watched the seconds tick away. He was three days away from her. 

He had to make it through this time. 

No matter what. 

•••

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, can you scan the compound for the stones' energy signature?" Y/n questioned, looking over the wreckage of what was once the Avengers compound. It didn't even look the same, all blown to the foundation with rubble spread around like a battlefield. 

"I detect energy levels matching the stones underneath the building in the sewer systems. You should have access through what's left of the first floor." The A.I. answered. Y/n flew over to the nearest opening of the building, using micro lasers to burn a hole into the floor leading down into the sewers. 

She jumped down into it, landing as quietly as possible before looking around. It was hard to see much, the only light being the blaring red light of the alarm system but the tunnel appeared empty other than the obvious debris and flooding. She cautiously walked forward watching as her display outlined the surrounding area. 

It was eerily silent, the soft trickling of water putting her on edge as she continued down the tunnel, following the power signature of the stones. 

"I detect hostiles approaching." F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke suddenly. Y/n watched carefully as her display changed, showing a clearer picture using an x-ray of the surroundings. The stones rapidly approached as did the hostiles and she quickly held up her hands, powering up the repulsors as Clint ran into her vision.  

"Shoot 'em!" Clint screamed, narrowly dodging one of the creatures that lined the tunnel. Y/n did what he said, firing at the closest creature before moving onto the next, trying to hold them off long enough for Clint to run past her. 

"What the hell are these things?!" She yelled, following after him as they both broke off into a sprint through the water. 

"I don't know but I'm tired of this alien shit!" Clint shouted over his shoulder as Y/n glanced back at the creatures, firing again at one that got too close. Clint pulled out one of his arrows, throwing it into one of the pipes next to them before running faster. 

Catching onto what he was doing, she picked up speed as well, jumping with him as the arrow exploded taking out most of the creatures. Y/n looked up from the ground, noticing that some of them had started to crawl through the flames making her climb to her feet, grabbing Clint under his arms. 

She activated the thrusters and they launched up, faltering a bit since Y/n had barely learned to fly by herself let alone while carrying someone. Clint unsheathed his sword, yelling as he cut through some of the creatures that had climbed up beside them. 

Once reaching the top Y/n dropped him to the side before falling herself, tumbling a few feet away. Clint climbed to his knees, holding out his sword as he let out a threatening shout. Thankfully, no other creatures appeared over the edge and he collapsed onto his back next to Y/n. 

"Hey." Clint chuckled, nudging Y/n tiredly. "You're an Avenger now." He told her drawing a half-hearted laugh from her. She groaned the pain in her ribs increasing at the action and she put a hand over her side. 

"Being an Avenger hurts." 

•••

Once going through the portal the wizard had made, Bucky was met with a wasteland. Thanos and Steve watched as others arrived through the portals and while Steve's expression was much more relieved than Thanos', it was clear they were only evening the playing field as Bucky looked toward Thanos' forces. 

The Wakandan armies chanted as hundreds of other heroes came through the portals, each ready for the final battle. He walked forward, coming to stand a few feet away from Steve as he studied the enemy across the way. He was determined to finish what they had started five years ago. He wanted to find his soulmate and he wanted this fight to truly be the last. 

"Avengers!" Steve called. Bucky held his breath, hoping with everything he had that for all his misfortune over the years, today would end better. 

He'd suffered for a lifetime. 

Please let this be the last fight. 

"Assemble." 

Everyone yelled, running forward at Thanos' forces. The fight broke out and Bucky managed to find himself alongside the raccoon he'd encountered last time. They shared brief eye contact and Rocket's eyes flashed with recognition while Bucky tried to ignore him. 

"How about now?!" Rocket yelled, motioning to his arm. Bucky glanced over at him, growing annoyed with the talking animal's persistence. What the hell would a raccoon do with his arm? 

"No!" Bucky yelled back. He turned, noticing one of the creatures had been sneaking up on Steve while he had his back turned and Bucky quickly shot at it, knocking it down. Steve turned, giving Bucky a grateful and joyous smile. Bucky smiled back making sure to keep aware of the creatures around him. 

"What the hell did you get me into, Steve?" Bucky yelled teasingly. His friend gave a short chuckle, using the large hammer to slam back another one of Thanos's creatures. 

"Nothing two old men can't handle." 

Taglist:

Part eleven

@cancanmarvel

@jessyballet

@eldahae

@mc225g

@kissesofdeadforme

@wantingtobekorra

@sxphiiwrld

@lunaticbarnes

@indecisivedolly

@saiyanprincesswanie

@lextheflexsthings

@silver-winter-wolf

@whatifwedo

@arguedquill1226

@lunashaw57

@loushkspr

@3aileypage

@mela-noche

[appples]

Oh, Cats (6/10)

pairing: Aizawa x Reader (OC)

genre/warning: 18+

words: 3,296

summary: An average girl with a cat quirk starting over in a new city, as typical as usual. Until it’s not. You drop into someone’s life unannounced and not necessarily wanted.

The fall cultural festival was fast approaching. Meetings began being held for the classes to decide how they were going to participate. For the most part, the students made up the bulk of the festival, but some teachers have also enjoyed participating in recent years. Midnight was running the teacher's festival meeting during their lunch break.

“I was put in charge of entertainment, but they turned my first idea down. Something about it being inappropriate for school or something. Anyways!” Midnight’s eyes began to sparkle, this wasn’t a good sign. “I’ve signed all the female teacher up for an idol show!” snapping your head around, you took count of all the teacher in the room. Midnight and you were the other female teachers. Everyone turned and stared at you.

“That’s not even the best part! We have a surprise theme planned for the show!” she was clapping with excitement. On the other hand, you were not. I have no idea how to dance, especially not like an idol. Do I have to sing? Oh, please, no. Please, no. Staring at the floor was the only thing you could do. Some more chatter happening, but it was all noise to you. A hand on your shoulder startled you out of your downward spiral. It was Midnight.

“Don’t look so worried, this is going to be great! I have some amazing costumes for us.” She smiled with more information than she was explaining. You feigned a smile, not even attempting to make it convincing.

“You’re going to love it, I promise. But I think right now you might want to get going, classes are about to start.”  She was right. You did have somewhere to be. Today was the demo you promise to help Aizawa do. You wanted to help the students more but were starting to question your intentions walking towards the gym. How was it that the leaves were already beginning to drop, weren’t the trees just budding?

You were desperately trying to distract yourself while Aizawa began to explain today’s lesson and demo.

“Nurikabe-sensei has expressed interest in being more hands-on during classes. Our demo will feature her and center around the idea of finite precision control: knowing when and how to hold back when engaged with a lower villain or vigilante.

You hated how you felt when Aizawa stared you down, the way your body reacts. The heat between your legs growing, breasts aching. Now was not the time for any of this, especially with the students watching so intently.

Aizawa made the first move, sending his capture weapon towards you. The garment was traveling in a straight line. You jumped up before it made its way around you, landing on the weapon before running the length of it to Aizawa. He turned, retracting then redeploying in search to bind you. Again, you jump, leaping forward towards your opponent's face. Claws bared, you slash at him, grazing his cheek and drawing blood. The captured weapon came back around from two sides, trapping you in its tightening grasp.

Unaware, the students were cheering you on as you continued to hold back their teacher. After your last trip off-campus, you buckled down and took a more serious attitude towards strengthening your quirk. Never again did you want to be the one who needed to be saved or someone who was more of a liability when they were there.

A hiss slipped out; fangs bared. It felt satisfying to sync with your quick, allowing it to assume control.  Aizawa smirked, pulling you in. You let your quick take over for the first time, unsure of what comes next. Your pupils begin to mutate, morphing into a cat’s eye. Hissing with more ferocity, you pull your body into itself and slink out from the capture weapon. No one saw that coming. With lightning speed, you darted from left to right, making your way closer to Aizawa. His cloth narrowly missing you each time, your speed increasing. Claws grew and sharpened, fangs bared. You leaped towards his face, stretching your body to the limits as you reach out. Ultimately you weren’t fast enough. The weapon was able to make up the difference as you jumped, ensnaring your leg. Before going down, you make one last swipe at Aizawa’s face. There he looked into your eyes and saw who you really were. Hitting the ground with a thud, you snarled and growled, slashing at the binding coming for your hand. Quickly both hands were bound together as Aizawa stood before you, smirking with that sassy smile again. The pounding of your heart pushed your quirk back down, giving you control again.

“Better than I was expecting,” he said and released you. Launching into his lesson from there, he explained the finer points of what has just happened and why.

“I think the biggest take away from this is to never underestimate an opponent you think you have figured out.” You tried not to look embarrassed. Next demonstration-Next demonstration? What does he mean by the next demonstration? We were only ever doing one. He turned to look at you,

“Did you get any of that?” You shook your head no, he sighed. “Stand up first of all. The only thing they saw was using a weapon. Not everyone has a weapon or long-range attack. We need to go over close-range combat.” Being close to him isn’t as simple as it should be. The closer you were to him physically, the more difficult it was because he became farther away emotionally. Was he trying to push you away? He won’t tell you anything about what’s happening to him or what he’s thinking, but then he shows up in the middle of the night? I don’t understand what he’s trying to say. Maybe, he doesn’t either.

“Are you ready?” standing up, you were in position.

“Ready.” Aizawa ran directly towards you, pulling out his knife as he closed in.

“Excuse me, Aizawa sensei, but I thought this was about restraint.” A student shouted from the sidelines. You dove forward meeting Aizawa, hoping to take the upper hand on impact. Ears pressed back, tail twitching, growling at your opponent, you eased into a high-pitched yowl. As you slash at Aizawa’s face, he brings up his blade to defend, deflecting your blow. Hitting the ground, you bounce back up, snarling again.  Things start to look blurry as your control starts to fade, quirk pushing you out. Again, demoted to the copilot, you watched your body turn into something else.

Aizawa came at you again, holding his weapon defensively. Your body jumped over twenty feet high. As you made the decent to your opponent, claws extend again, now coming in at twelve inches long and deadly sharp. Crossing your arms in front of your face, you slashed in an ex pattern with your growing power and the weight of gravity bearing down. The knife was knocked out of his hands as he was knocked back. Again, you slash your now weaponless opponent, tearing into his forearm, which he rose in defense. His goggles were on now. He was getting serious. Yowling he pushes you off and back.  Immediately you jump towards him, something he was counting on. He had found a flaw while you were fighting. Even with your increased speed, strength, and stamina, you were inexperienced and lacked knowledge in tactics and execution. Before you jump, he discovered you briefly pause before taking off. It wasn’t a fluid movement, leaving you vulnerable to attack. Predictably you took your pause allowing Aizawa to make his way towards you. Unable to notice as you were concentrated on leaping towards him. The jump closed the distance. Without time to react, and Aizawa delt you a finishing blow to your abdomen, forcing the air from your lungs. From there he was able to get behind you and bind your wrists.

“Don’t be afraid to take superficial damage if you can see an immediate advantage.” Aizawa faced a silent class. He was still bleeding. Looking down he saw you weren’t changing back. He had never seen you use your quirk to this extent.

“Nurikabe-sensei and I are going to see Recovery Girl. We’ll be back shortly. Class rep, you’re in charge until we get back. Put everyone into groups and review what the demos covered until we are back.”

“Yes, sensei!” The class rep proudly stood forward and got straight to work. Aizawa escorted you out of the gym.

“What's going on with you?” He continued to walk behind you while he spoke.

“It’s my quirk, something is happening to it.  I’ve been training a lot since my incident off-campus, but nothing like this has happened before. I don’t know what’s happening.” Your voice was starting to sound frantic.

“I think it should be fine.” His voice always felt so calming. “What might be happening is you can’t control your increased abilities, and they’re beginning overwhelming you.” You thought about it.

“That would make sense, but why am I not changing back?”

“I don’t have an answer for that, but Recovery Girl might be able to help there. Are you hurt at all?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry about your arm and your face.”

“Don’t be sorry. I think the students took a lot from that today. I don’t remember the last time they were that quiet.” You could feel the hum in his chest from talking, your tail finding its way around his leg, gently caressing. For a brief moment, you swore, you caught a smile sneak out.

Recovery Girl was perplexed about your quirk as well but was able to reverse the lingering effects. Obviously, you still had a long way to go before you had a proper handle on your quirk. Nonetheless, you were happy to see progress.