#iron flame? you have bad taste but I guess

[regardstosoulandromance]

I was at my local indie today and they have staff book shelves where each staff member puts their book recommendations and this one person had the most insane assortment of books, like I sent me friend a photo and was. This is a crazy person. It was:

Macbeth

Flowers in the Attic

Iron Flame (the second Fourth Wing book)

and I can tell you without a doubt that person is on got/hotd stan twt.

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 11

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Once again sorry this took a while! I'm about to graduate college (which I'm not happy about) and I've been packing and moving stuff home. Also guess who finished Iron Flame? ME! (Yes I know that i'm so late to the game. Graduation remember) but hey y'all drop your Xaden Riorson requests ;)

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: mentions of injuries and infertility, smut, violence.

Word Count: 7,238

The next 24 hours I was bedridden, not by my wishes, but my Madja’s and well, Cassian’s. For most of those hours I was asleep, in Cassian’s arms of course. Getting him to do anything but hold me was a miracle. Not that I was complaining, but when it came to matters of him needing to eat and such I was very adamant that he do so. 

Neither of us spoke much, both of us just wanting the peace of each other's company. When I would wake up I would tilt my head up from Cassian’s chest to see if he was awake or asleep. According to him I was a sleep magnet. 

He would ask me if I was cold or hungry, but mostly he asked how I was feeling, which thankfully was better. My body still aches from the bruises left on me. But since the bloodbane was now out of my system the scars from both of my stab wounds were healing nicely. 

I was lying on Cassian’s chest, enjoying his heartbeat when a timid knock sounded on the door. I lifted my aching body to turn and find my brother poking his head through the door, just like he used to when he would ask me if I wanted to sneak out for a midnight flight to the candy shop. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, shutting the door behind him softly, like the sound would be too much for me to stand. 

“Much better, still sore and a little tired from the blood loss but at least I’m not near freezing now,” I smiled at him, Cassian rubbed my shoulder as if I needed that small ounce of warmth the friction provided. 

“That’s good,” Rhys said, putting his hands behind his back. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to talk to you.”  

“Yes I just woke up so I’m feeling rested,” I say moving to sit up on the bed, my joints protesting. 

Cassian’s hands found their place under my arms to help lift me into position and then fluffed all my pillows so I would sit comfortably. When the Illyrian made no effort to get out of bed and leave the room, Rhys cleared his throat, getting his attention. 

“Yes?” Cassian cocked an eyebrow, clearly oblivious to what Rhys wanted. 

“Can I have a word with my sister alone?” Rhys asked. 

Cassian just rolled his eyes dramatically and moved to get out of bed. Before he left, he leaned over me and placed a kiss on my lips, one I greedily took as there was once a time I thought I would never taste him again. It wasn’t until my mate sauntered out and closed the door that Rhys spoke again. 

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” he laughed sitting at the side of my bed. 

“What is?” I ask, shifting in my seat to get more comfortable. 

“My little sister making out with my best friend,” he explained, nodding towards the door. 

“We did not make out,” I scoff, slapping him in the arm. 

“Any kind of kissing I see from the two of you might as well be fucking,” he laughed again, shying away from my hand. “Now enough of that, I wanted to apologize.” 

“Apologize? For what?” I furrow my brows, wondering what my saint of a brother could possibly have to apologize for. 

“For being a bad brother, for not being there for you after we escaped, for even suggesting you marry Eris,” he sighed, casting his head down like he couldn’t stand to look at me. “After we got back from under the mountain I started thinking about how I did everything wrong. How if father was still High Lord that never would’ve happened. That’s why I went looking through his things, and that’s how I found the contract. I thought that if I was more like him, I could keep us all safe. I could keep us from having to endure Hybern’s wrath like we did Amarantha’s. I spent too much time thinking about my own mate and my own trauma that I didn’t even stop to consider yours, and I’m so sorry.” 

“Rhys,” I breathe, feeling my heart break as I reach for his hand. “You aren’t a bad brother, you’re far from it. You’re the best big brother I could’ve ever asked for. I never gave you the option to be there for me after we got back, and I never made an effort to be there for you. We both messed up,” 

“Why didn’t you tell me about Eris? You know I would’ve stopped the whole thing right then and there if I knew he had hurt you like that.” He asks, gripping my hand tighter, his brows furrowing as he searches my weary face for an answer. 

“Because you sacrificed so much for me, Rhys. You sold yourself into slavery to keep me from the exact same fate. It’s a debt I never thought I’d be given the opportunity to repay.” I take a deep breath, letting the weight of my own words hit me. “You saved me, I owed you Rhys. I would’ve done anything to help you. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, that we won’t have those armies anymore.” 

Rhys’ violet eyes glisten with tears as he takes in every word I say. There’s an overwhelming  guilt that fills the room. One that ebbs and flows from both of us. For the first time in 49 years I felt like I was truly seeing my brother again for the first time and what a lovely sight it was. 

“Don’t you dare apologize y/n,” Rhys says, scooting closer to me. “If you were still his wife and living in the Autumn Court, I would have burned the whole place down, given what I know now. Gods I nearly lost my mind when Azriel showed up here with you, and when Madja said you may never wake up? It was worse grief than when mother and father died. Because it would’ve been my fault. You would’ve died before I ever got the chance to make things right again and I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself.”  

“But we don’t have to worry about that anymore,”  I cry, holding both of his hands. “I’m here now.” 

“And you’re not going anywhere,” he assures me. “I can’t be High Lord of this court without my little sister.” 

My words get caught in my throat at his words and I decide to hell with them. I throw my arms around his neck for the first time in a long time. He plucks me from the bed, pulling me closer, like I might slip out of his grasp and be lost forever. Both of us blubber like babies, but I can’t help but smile as I’m engulfed in the scent of sea salt and citrus again. I had missed him so much. 

I hear the snapping of leather wings and then suddenly the light around me goes dark. I open my eyes to see Rhys' wings wrapping around me, cocooning me, just like he used to do when we were little kids. I can’t help but laugh and wipe away a tear as I take them in. 

“We haven’t done this since-” 

“Since father yelled at you for trying to sneak out to go on a date with the blacksmith's son,” Rhys said finishing my sentence. 

“That’s right!” I gasp remembering the young man with shaggy brown hair. “What was his name again?” 

“Arne, and he nearly soiled himself when father and I showed up to his doorstep and told him to stay away from you.” he chuckled. 

“I didn’t know you went too!” I gawk, eyes going wide. 

“Well of course I did, he didn’t deserve your affections,” Rhys smirked.

“All this time I blamed father but you were in on it! I hate you!” I laugh, slapping his chest. “He was handsome.” 

“Don’t let Cassian know that,”  Rhys teased and I couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Arne standing next to Cassian. Soil himself he certainly would in the presence of The Lord of Bloodshed. 

“I promise you I’m fine. Madja said it would be good for me to start walking around more!” I protest at Cassian’s vice grip trying to keep me in bed. 

It had been two days since the conversion with my brother, one that had gone into the late hours of the night as we reminisced about the old days. The only reason the conversation ended was because Cassian barged in claiming he was tired and refused to sleep anywhere but with his mate. Rhys happily obliged him and promised he would eat lunch with me the following day, which he did. 

Now I was feeling much better, as my stab wounds were scarred but healed. My body still ached from the bruises all over me, both left there from Eris' hands when he took me by force, and from being dragged through the palace. But I was in desperate need of a bath, and a change of clothes. So I wasn’t taking Cassian’s pleas that I stay in bed another day.   

“Fine but let me help you at least,” he grumbles rounding the bed so he can take my  hands and help me stand. My legs shake under the weight of my own body but hold strong. The long sleeve shirt of Cassian’s covering my wobbling knees.  

“See I’m fine,” I laugh taking slow steps to the bathroom where the house has already prepared me a steaming hot bath. The smell of Jasmine bath salts wafts through the air further solidifying that I’m home, in Velaris, and everything is okay. 

I lift Cassian’s shirt over my head, discarding it on the floor and for the first time since I’ve been home I finally get a good look at myself. Except I’m not sure the person looking back at me in the mirror is me. Angry hand shaped bruises mar my hips and my forearms from where Eris gripped me. The hand print around my neck finally started to fade but it was still there. My knees and elbows were bruised from being dragged over stone floors and the scar on my side had finally healed to a faint pink. 

“Gods what did he do to you?” Cassian breathed from the doorway, breaking me out of my trance. I turn to meet his worried gaze as his eyes look up and down my body at the evidence of what Eris did. 

“You don’t want to know Cass,” I say, turning back to see myself in the mirror again. Cassian’s frame comes to stand beside me as he places a kiss on my bare shoulder. 

“If you ever need to talk about it I’ll be here. You don’t have to hide it from me just because you don’t think I want to hear.” he says, staring at me through the mirror. 

I turn in his arms to run a hand down his chest, “Can I ask you a favor? One you can absolutely say no to and I won’t be upset?” I ask him timidly. 

“You could ask me for the moon on a string and I would fly up there and get it for you my love. Anything you want and it’s yours,” he smiles, brushing his knuckles against my face. 

“Will you teach me how to fight?  I’ve been thinking about what happened with Eris, and how helpless I felt. How I knew that all I could do was lie down and take it. I don’t have powers like Rhys, or even wings like you and Azriel to take me away.  I don’t ever want to feel that way again, I never want to feel helpless.” I admit staring at his bare chest, unable to meet his gaze.

His hand finds my chin and lifts it to meet his eyes, in them, so much love. Pain for what I’ve gone through, but pride for how I’ve chosen to handle it. I could feel every emotion down the bond that I thanked the mother for every day. 

“You will never have to feel helpless again y/n. I’ll kill anyone who dares to harm you and I won’t feel a lick of remorse for doing so. But I would be honored to train you,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re going to bring me to my knees in Illyrian fighting leathers,” he laughs. 

I giggle at his comment and smack him on the chest, before waltzing over to the bathtub and getting in. The warm water washing over me practically has me falling apart as I let out an appreciative hum. I close my eyes and lean my head against the edge of the tub already feeling the invisible dirt and grime being lifted off of my skin. It’s like being reborn. 

When I don’t feel another body I open one eye to see Cassian standing next to me arranging towels and clothes for when I get done. I can’t help but smile at the overbearing mother hen he’s been the last couple of days. If I told anyone that The Lord of Bloodshed was fluffing towels and laying out outfits I’m sure none would believe me. 

“Are you going to get in general?” I ask, nodding to the space before me. The bathtub isn’t as big as his, but it’ll do.

“If you’re asking me to get in and just sit with you, yes. But if you’re hoping for anything more the answer is no. You’re not fully healed yet and I don’t want to hurt you,” he says firmly, setting the towels down. 

“But Cass I’m fine-” 

“No you’re not, the wound on your stomach is still healing,” he states and I know he’s right. 

“Fine, get in you Illyrian baby,” I say moving my legs to make room for him. 

He rolls his eyes at my comment but drops his pants. The moment he does I instantly curse myself  for allowing my eyes to ogle him. Then I curse him and his stupid temporary sex ban. It had been well before the wedding since he and I had been intimate that way and I wanted so badly to touch him. To solidify the fact that he was purely mine.  Even as he looked disorientated as hell trying to find a way for his wings to fit in the smaller tub, he was handsome.    

“Here,” I laugh, moving over to sit in his lap so that he can extend his legs and move more. “There now we both fit.” 

“As soon as you're well I’m flying you back to The House of Wind and we’re taking a proper bath,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to my nose. 

“I’ll hold you to that general,” I smile leaning in to kiss him. 

Just like the first time we bathed together he takes the time to gently wash all of me. The way his large hands massage my scalp as he washes my hair has my eyes fluttering shut, as do his soft touches as he washed my body.  The smell of my jasmine and amber soap filling my nose and making me feel like myself again. His hand lingers over the nail shaped scar across my stomach and his eyes zero in there. As if there’s something on the tip of his tongue. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, something that I’ve been avoiding.” he says, not taking his eyes off the scar. “I wanted to wait until you were completely healed but I think you should know now.”

Anxiety starts to build inside of me. I thought that after the wedding he had stopped keeping secrets. Whatever this was, it was big. Big enough for his eyes to start glazing over as they stayed riveted  on my stomach. 

“What is it?” I say quietly when he doesn’t speak up. 

“Madja was able to heal most of you but there were things even her magic couldn’t fix. She says that the wound to your womb was severe, that it hit an area she couldn’t heal. Because of it, you may never be able to have children,” he says solemnly, finally taking his eyes off my scar to look at me. His eyes were full of worry, as tears welled up in them. 

My world stopped as I took in what he said. I knew the reason Eris wounded me was to ensure I wouldn't have his child, but it had never occurred to me that it would prevent me from having any children. Prevent me from having Cassian’s children. 

A wave of grief washes over me for what could’ve been, and then it’s followed by guilt. Cassian had already sacrificed so much for me, for us, for this court. And now I couldn’t give him the one thing the fae prayed and begged the Mother for, a child. I had been a terrible mate all these months. Not knowing about the bond, marrying another male, letting that male put his hands on me. All things I could never atone for. 

What god did Cassian offend to end up cursed with me as his mate?

“There’s still time,” I breathed, eyes cast down to where he held my hands just above the water. 

“Time for what my love?” the general’s eyebrows furrowed at my anomalous response. 

“For you to reject the bond. We haven’t truly accepted it yet and I understand if this isn’t what you want anymore. I know how badly you wanted children and if I can’t-” 

“No,” he answered resolutely, pulling me closer to him pressing his forehead against mine. “This changes nothing. I don’t need children to be happy,  I just need you.”

“Then maybe you can seek out a surrogate and then-” I ramble but he cuts me off again.

“Don’t even finish that sentence. I would rather die than lie with another woman,” he said with a strong tone. “A life with you…That is what I want more than anything. More than children, more than armies.  I have loved you for so long and now you are mine, and I am yours. Anything else is inconsequential.” 

He pauses and leans over the edge of the bathtub grabbing his pants. I can’t help but furrow my brows as he fishes around in one of his pockets until he pulls out something small that I can’t see and holds it tightly in his hand. 

“I made up my mind from the moment you asked me to kiss you all those weeks ago that you would be mine until the end of all days. If you recall, I even told you so.” he starts.

“Now I’m never letting you go”

The words replay in my head as he opens his hand revealing a brass ring. The thing looked so small in his large hand. It was beaten and weathered. No doubt having seen years of life and love. 

“This was my mothers,” he states, holding up the ring. “It’s the only thing I have left of hers, given to me by someone in her village who managed to save it. As you know I’m a bastard, so it’s not a wedding ring. But I remember her wearing it  all the time.” his lips tug up in a small smile as if remembering his mother. 

There is a sadness in his eyes as he stares down at the little ring. But as I see the wheels in his head churning, recalling his mothers face, his eyes lighten and he continues. 

“I always knew that I would give it to my mate, if the cauldron ever blessed me with one. I never once thought I would be mated to the princess. It feels stupid asking you to marry me with this, but I didn’t carry this thing around all these years for nothing.” he chuckles looking into my eyes. “Y/n I love you. I always have. I don’t just want you as my best friend or my partner or even just as my mate. I want you as my wife. I know this ring isn’t befitting of a princess or The Jewel of Prythian, but will you marry me?”  

I can’t help but let out a small laugh and press a kiss to his cheek, “Of course I will Cass, how could you ever think I would say no?”

“I just had to ask,” he chuckles into my lips. 

I look down to see him sliding the circlet of brass around my left ring finger and to my surprise it fits like a glove. As if it was destined to sit there for the rest of its days. 

“We can get you another one, something more befitting of a princess.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the band. 

“No, I don't want another one. I want this one.” I assure him laying my front down on his chest. 

“Whatever makes you happy  my love,” he hums, running a hand through my wet hair. 

We lay in the newly engaged bliss for a long time. Until the bathwater runs cold and our fingers and toes wrinkle. But it isn’t long enough, we could’ve spent hours more in that bath and it still wouldn’t be enough. No amount of time ever would be. 

The next day I woke up to Cassian’s side of the bed cold. No doubt he had finally started training again, something I’m sure Azriel had been pestering him about. Ever since I had gotten back he hadn’t left my side once, and that included training. I joked with him that he was going to lose his rippling abs but he always laughed it off and said I was more important. I wasn’t upset that he had gone to training, if anything it made me feel lighter. It made me feel like things were going back to normal. 

I was sitting in the library reading when he finally waltzed in, covered in sweat with his hair tied at the nape of his neck. The sight had me wondering when his little sex ban would end.

“How was training?” I ask setting down the book I was reading and stand to greet him. 

“Az kicked my ass, apparently a couple days out officially puts me out of practice,” he smiles, bending down to kiss me.

“You’re stinky,” I laughed, twisting my face at him. 

“You like it and you know it,” he teases, grabbing me by the waist to plant another kiss on my lips. 

I cursed at the feral part of me that liked seeing him sweaty and dirty, “Yeah, yeah, yeah so maybe I like it,” I smiled, pulling him down by the nape of the neck for another kiss. 

His hands pulled my waist so I was closer to him and my arms naturally looped around his neck. I was consumed by the feeling of him. His strong arms around me, his lips all over mine, his scent at its purest form. It was enough to drive me absolutely mad. I pulled him in closer with a groan as I parted my mouth for him.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted, breaking the kiss. “You’re not healed yet.”

“Ugh Cass!” I bemoan throwing my head back in a mini tantrum. 

“You’re still a little sore, I can see it when you walk,” he laughs, kissing my temple. “Just a few more days my love.” 

“If you don’t want me anymore you can just say it,” I tease, turning my head to the side so that I’m staring at the wall. 

His hand finds my chin and turns it so I’m facing him again. I make sure to don my most irritated face, one that makes his lips turn up in a smirk. I wish I could kiss it right off his face.

“Oh believe me baby I want you plenty,” he smirks. “In a perfect world I would fuck you over the arm of that couch until the only word that you know how to say is my name.” 

My breath hitches and my toes curl at the image of him taking me that way. I knew he meant every word. Words I would hold him to once I was finished. I wanted him in every way  possible. The kitchen floor, the bathroom counter, the dining room table. Anywhere he would take me. 

As if he can scent my arousal he leans in to place a sweet kiss upon my lips. But when I close my eyes I fall into dead air. I open my eyes to see him staring off into the distance,  a concerned look on his face. 

“What? What is it?” I ask knowing that something is going wrong. 

“Eris is here,” he says assuredly and I realize that my brother had been contacting him via daemati. 

Cassian drops his hands from my waist and walks towards the doorway, picking up the swords he discarded against the wall. A male with a clear goal in sight.

“Wait, I want to come too!” I shout at him, following him down the hall.

He stops in his tracks turning to meet my gaze, “Absolutely not, I don’t want him anywhere near you.” he fusses strapping his swords and daggers in tightly. 

“Cass please I’m not afraid of him. This obviously concerns me, I want to be there,” I plead with him. 

Cassian’s jaw twinges and he looks out the window to my right, as if he is contemplating what he wants to do. Things that might happen, things that could go wrong. I see his eyes dart around slightly as if he’s watching all possible outcomes.

“Fine,” he states, though I can tell it’s not truly what he wants. “But you have to know that if he even comes close to you I will fucking kill him y/n. I will slit his fucking throat right then and there. Can you live with that?” he asks me in earnest. 

“Yes,” I nod. 

In reality my answer is no. The last thing I need is for a war between Night and Autumn just because Cassian killed their heir. I hated the male just as much as Cassian did, maybe even more, but I wouldn’t allow this to happen, which might be the real reason I wanted to attend. 

The flight to the house in The Court of Nightmares was short. One Cassian had clearly flown a thousand times. Growing up I was never allowed to go there, my father claiming it was too dangerous for me. One night curiosity got the best of me and I asked Rhys to take me and he declined. It was at that moment I lost all desire to set foot in the city. 

As Cassian and I stepped foot into my family's house there I couldn’t help but shudder. No wonder I had never been allowed here. It was all wrong, nothing like Velaris. Suddenly all the stories other courts whispered about the Night Court added up. 

When we arrived at the throne room we entered through the back. Standing by Rhysand who was sitting atop the throne he had been born to inherit. Eris is standing before him just a few yards away.  Both of them clearly lost in a heated discussion.  

We stood aside Rhys, Cassian’s arm wrapping protectively around me as his other hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. Eris’ eyes flickered over to me, then to Cassain and then back to Rhys.

“You hold no claim over my sister, not after what you’ve done. You’re lucky I haven’t melted your mind where you stand,”  Rhysand’s voice boomed.

It was the first thing I heard when I walked in, and it made a chill run down my spine. I had never heard my brother this way. I knew Rhys often put on a front for other courts but I had  never seen it. As if he was too afraid to show it to me.

“She’s my fucking wife. You can’t keep my wife from me Rhysand; it goes against the laws of every court in Prythian.” Eris growls back. “Come on pet it’s time to return home.” he says, holding a hand out to me.  Had he forgotten the events that led me here in the first place?

I step closer into Cassain’s frame, my hand curling into one of the straps on his fighting leathers. As if he can sense my fear, his body tenses and he pulls me tighter to him.

“Take one more fucking step towards her Eris and I will spill your guts on this floor,” Cassian growls and even I’m scared of the tone he uses. Unlike the Autumn Court, Cassian has the upper hand here, and I’m deeply terrified he will use it.  While he may be The Lord of Bloodshed, Eris is the son of a High Lord.

“She is my wife, and I hold full authority over her,” Eris seethes, the fire in his eyes returning. 

“You hold no claim over me,” I said. “You never did. By the laws of your court our marriage is null and void. Now I belong to my mate, who loves me.” 

“You once told me you loved me,” Eris says smugly. 

My mind races back to our wedding night. I swore I would never let him hear the words pass my lips. But the pain, it was too much. He told me he would stop if I would just say those three little words, and in a moment of desperation I caved to his wishes. My body too worse for wear to take much more.

Cassian’s body twinges next to me clearly taken back by Eris’ words.

“That’s because you beat me into submission until I did. That’s not love. I gave Cassian my love freely, before he ever touched me. Before I knew he was my mate.” I say firmly, my gaze unyielding at the Autumn Court heir. 

Eris simply rolled his eyes, “To hell with the laws of my court, I had it written today that impure females can still wed noblemen. I want The Jewel and I shall have her,” he smirks looking me up and down. 

Before I can even retort, Rhysand speaks up, “and I had it written the moment she was found that in my court, mates can’t be separated without consent,” my brother says smoothly. “Sister, would you like to go with Eris?” he asked me.  

“No I would not,” I say firmly. “You wouldn’t benefit much from me anyways. The healers say I may never bear children now.” 

“What a shame, now you’re just spoiled fucking goods,” Eris lips twist in a self satisfied sneer. “At least one good thing came out of that nail to your womb. You won’t be making any bastard children.” 

Before I can even start to bring him down to earth Cassian is launching himself at Eris. A frenzy of swords, flame and raw power from Cassian’s siphons barrel around the room. I can’t help but gawk and run to my brother's side as Cassian unleashes his fury upon Eris. Most of Eris’ moves are on the defense, as Cassian never lets him have a moment to strike.

“Rhys stop this!” I say clutching my brother's arm. 

Rhys simply smirks, crossing an ankle over his knee clearly amused, “No I’m actually enjoying this,” he smirks leaning into the arm of the throne as the sounds of metal on metal ring through the room. 

I look up to see Cassian hovering over Eris, a sword held to his throat as Eris uses every ounce of power he has to keep the general from piercing his throat.

“Did I get under your skin, dog?” Eris taunts, trying to catch Cassian off guard enough that he can get the upper hand. “Did I tell you how she screamed as I took her?” he grins. 

Cassian falters just long enough for Eris to get out from underneath him. Eris’ hands are ablaze as he tries to burn through Cassain’s leathers, but the general has him on his back before he gets the chance. His hazel eyes ravenous as he lifts a sword to cleave Eris’ head. I realize that this is truly the Lord of Bloodshed standing before me, and now I know why he had been given the title.

“Rhys!” I cry out hoping he can end the carnage. 

“Fine, fine,” he assures me standing from his seat. “ENOUGH!” the High Lord bellows, his power pulling the fighting males apart. “My word is final. Eris, go home while I’ll still allow it.” Rhys finishes sitting back in his chair with a swagger I wish I could recreate for myself. 

Cassain comes running over to me, not a scratch on him as Eris limps out the doors behind him.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I fuss surveying the burn marks in his leathers from Eris’ hands. Thankfully none of them burnt all the way through. 

“I’m fine baby,” he beams down at me, trying to mask the anger he feels for letting Eris walk out of here alive. 

“By the mother can the both of you get a room?” Rhys chastised, standing from the throne. 

“You’re going to have to get used to it brother,” Cassian laughs, wrapping his arms around me.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhys dismisses us. “Go home, both of you, before I lose my lunch,” he jokes, stepping down from the dais, moving towards the door Cassian and I entered through. 

Cassian and I enter his room, this time at the House of Wind. Both of us had decided that Rhys needed to learn to take the new dynamic in doses. The Illyrian rid himself of his leathers, his body practically vibrating with anger, desire, sadness? I couldn’t quite tell.

“Cass, are you okay?” I ask laying a hand on his now bare shoulder. My voice is small and timid worrying what I might awaken in him. 

“Yes my love I’m fine,” he says, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to my open palm. “Just left over adrenaline inside of me, that’s all.”

My thoughts wander to the sight of him nearly taking Eris’ life. In the moment I was scared he would get hurt, but looking back now? I hated to admit how it made my heart race and my thighs clench. I had never needed him more than I did now. 

“I can think of a few ways to dispel that adrenaline,” I smirk, leaning in to kiss him but he stops me.

“No stop, I won’t hurt you y/n,” he groans, pushing me away. 

I felt something in me snap, something breaking. “Cassian please,” I beg and his eyes meet mine. “Please, I'm begging you to touch me. I am whole, I am well. I just want my mate. I can’t bear it any longer.” I plead with him, tears welling in my eyes.

He moves swiftly, his frame towering over me as he comusnes my mouth as if he’s consuming my soul. I feel the need in him sink into my very skin as he takes me in his arms. I nearly whimper at the way he kisses me so thoroughly. 

“If I hurt you, tell me right away. Okay?” he says between kisses, his hands roaming up and down my sides. 

I can only nod my head in agreement before his lips are on mine again. Every  touch of his hands on my body is so all consuming, yet never enough. The male could be melded to my skin and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

I feel my thighs hit the back of a rogue desk and suddenly I’m being hauled up until my bum sits on the cold surface. My hands wander up and down Cassian’s chest, committing every muscle to memory once more. His own hands wander around my back until I hear a deafening rip ricochet off the walls. My dress being torn in half and discarded on the floor. 

“Cassian,” I breathed as the cold air hit the bare skin of my breasts. 

I  was happy to see that his little sex ban had affected him as much as it did me. His hands and mouth were feral on me, no doubt from the adrenaline. His hand tugged my head back by my hair giving himself full access to my neck. The open mouthed kisses he left all over me drove me wild. But I didn’t stop the general on his mission to worship every part of me. 

His lips wandered over every ghost of a bruise Eris had left on me.

“You are loved, you are safe, you are mine,” he whispered before consuming my mouth once more.

My hands flew to the leathers of his pants, ripping them open seamlessly. His cock sprung free, hard and ready for me. But once again he stopped me.

“I mean it princess. You feel pain at any time and we’re done.” he says pressing his forehead to mine. 

“Shut up and fuck me general,” I grit bucking my core towards him. 

“Is that an order princess?” He teased, kissing my temple. 

“Yes it is,” I groan. “If you don’t I’ll throw you in the dungeons.” I tease running my hands down his chest. 

“Well then, as my princess commands.” He smirks, sinking himself into me. 

If he didn’t have me seated on his desk my knees would’ve buckled. The feeling of him inside me was so overwhelming, so amazing. I found myself crying out in pleasure from the fullness.

“Good girl,” he smiles before thrusting in once more. 

My eyes already see stars as he sets a steady pace. One not nearly as hard as he did at the ball, clearly not wanting to hurt me. Nonetheless, the pace he set felt amazing. 

“Oh Cass,” I moaned,  my nails raking across his back. 

“Did I tell you how I missed this?” he groaned, thrusting into me deeper. “How badly I missed being inside you?” 

His words had me going limp in his arms. My mouth leaving sweet kisses on his neck to encourage him to keep fucking me. I run my hands all over his body, wanting to feel all of him. This man, this glorious, brave and strong man was my mate. For the first time since realizing it, it had begun to truly sink in. This was our first time together now that both of us knew, and I could practically feel the bond between us screaming to be consummated. 

“Mine,” I breathed into his ear as he hit me particularly deep. “My mate.”

His hand came back to cup the base of my neck so that I was craning up to meet his stare. The fanning of his breath on my cheek as he fucked me languidly. 

“All yours baby, forever.” he smirked, leaning down to kiss me. 

Large hands cupped my bottom and I felt myself being carried towards the bed. He set me down in a way that made it so he never had to pull out of me, and I was thankful for the gesture. I didn’t want to be separated from him for a single moment. 

He resumed his relaxed place, one that had me feeling every inch of him. There would be time for fucking in the future, but for now I just wanted him to make love to me, and by the cauldron did he.

I felt my legs start to shake and tremble as he continuously hit the part of me that always had me falling apart. My hands threaded through his hair as I heard his moans and grunts in my ear, only making my stomach flutter even more. The damn inside of me getting ready to burst. 

“Cass I’m going to,” I shudder, raking my hands down his back, an action that spurs him on. 

“I’m close too y/n, just hold on for me,” he grunts fucking into me harder.

In my efforts to hold off on my release in order to wait for him I feel myself clench around his length, his hips stuttering as he tries to keep his pace.

“Oh shit baby you keep doing that I’m gonna-” 

“Cass please,” I cry, nearly arching my back so I can feel more of his skin on mine.

“Fuck, cum with me,” Cassian groans.

The ragged deepness of his voice has me seeing stars as my own release washes over me. He continues rutting into me as he buries his head in my neck, breathing in my scent. Both of us are panting as I run my hands through his hair some more, calming us both down. 

“My beautiful, smart, amazing, sexy mate,” he says, kissing my neck with each phrase.

He rolls over so he doesn’t crush me under his weight, and his arms pull me up to rest on his chest like always. The skin under my cheek is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as I hear his heartbeat beginning to calm down. I can’t stop myself from propping my chin up on his chest and placing sweet kisses all over him. From his abs to his chest, to his shoulders, and his neck.

“If this is us now how bad are we going to be after we accept the bond?” Cassian chuckles, pushing my hair out of my face so that he can see me. 

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to wait any longer to accept it,” I say, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. “Not after today, with Eris. Who knows what kind of crazy strings he would pull to take me back and have me be his lap pet. If we’re officially mated Rhys’ laws will hold true.”

“Trust me, Eris would sooner have his head on a pike than have his hands on you again,” Cassian laughs lightly. 

“I’d rather not have it come to that. If you were on the other end of Beron’s wrath for killing his heir we couldn’t do this as often,” I smirk, placing a kiss on his neck. 

“You have me there princess,” Cassian laughs, pulling my bare body impossibly closer to his. 

“By the end of the week?” I ask boldly.

“What?” he says, caught off guard. 

“I want to be mated by the end of the week, I want to call you my husband,” I smile, bringing my left hand with the engagement ring up to cup his face. “Unless you think it’s too soon?” I ask worried I might be pushing him too far.

“Too soon? I’ve been wanting to make you my wife for over 50 years y/n. I’d marry you right now if you wanted me to,” he rambles and I can’t help but giggle. 

“While I love the sound of that I would like a dress, and maybe a ring for you as well.” I say brushing a hair out of his face. 

“I suppose I’ve waited this long,” he laughs, pulling me over so I’m lying directly on top of his chest. “By the end of the week it is.” he beams, sealing the promise with a kiss.

Hey I’ve been having some problems with tagging so lmk if you get this or if you saw it but didn’t get the notif!!

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21 ,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @mybestfriendmademe , @anxious-study , @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams ,  @sh4nn , @talesofadragon , @5onedirection5 , @saltedcoffeescotch , @flourelle 

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always  

[druidwolf21]

As per the votes, here's some loving smut with everyone's fav space viking!

Leman Russ/F reader

Content warning-

sexual content

A bit of fluff

Homesickness

Saying I love you during sexy time???

@moodymisty @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @lemon-russ @beckyninja @jaghatai-khock

Hope you like some sexy lovins

Words and meanings

Skitja- fenrisian curse

Volda Hamarrki- the mountain range of fenris

Skitnah-dirty/foul

Aett- clan hols/ heath fenrisian name for the fang

Stormurstjórn- stormcaller (I used this as a little pet name

Skíthof- another fenrisian curse

Gmorl-fate

The fire roared and blazed, spitting sparking embers across the marbled guard as you stared listlessly into the light. The book you had been reading hung limply from your hand as your eyes followed motes of flames dancing from one cindered log to another as it's warmth gently toasted your skin.

You allowed your eyes to wander from the embers to the room you sat in. Cold steel walls rising high above you, dispersed with woven tapestries of great battles and flickering oil torches. You sighed wistfully as your sight fell on a painting of a forest, trees frosted with diamond snow and silvered icicles, shadowy wolven figures dancing through the wood with amber eyes that seemed to glow.

You fisted the furs on the bed you had perched on as you threw the book aside and fell backwards, staring at the canopy above you, willing it to turn from soft cotton into the grey fenrisian sky. Squeezing your eyes shut and inhaling, you could almost smell the frozen sap, warm mjord and smelting iron that hung perpetually through the halls of the fang.

But home was a long way away and no matter how hard you willed it, upon opening your eyes, the dream of Asaheim faded into the distance. Your memory of warm meals and warmer company left a bitter taste in your mouth as you swept a hand across your face. Your thoughts were dragged back into the present by a wet nose against your thigh and a quiet whine.

Resigning yourself to your current situation, you drag yourself upright, smiling gently as you come face to face with golden eyes and a maw of teeth as long as Eldari daggers. Thick lines of spit coated each fang as the beast breathed heavily in your face before letting out another low whine.

You snorted and place a hand on the wolf's snout, playfully pushing it away.

""Skítja, fenki!" You curse "what have you been eating, your breath is worse than...well I don't know, but it's bad!"

You recoiled as your question got you a long, hot lick from your bare ankle to the top of your thigh. You hopped off the bed and rushed to an oaken dressing table, ripping a towel from a drawer and dragging it along your leg.

"you are so gross" you laugh lightly, dropping the towel and walking back over, pressing your face into warm fur and inhaling deeply.

"I guess you miss home too, huh?"

You nuzzled in deeper, wrapping your arms around the giant canine as far as you could, twisting your fingers through coarse fur and feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of it's chest.

"I promise, as soon as we can, we'll take you back home, back to Volda Hamarrki. Me, you, Russ and Geri, does that sound good?" You whispered, trying to stem tears before they fell

"we'll go back, away from this Skitnah ship, feel the snow under our feet again"

The tears flowed freely as you buried your face, gritting your teeth, willing them to stop as you fought to push the home sickness from your thoughts.

"Making plans for me, my little Stormurstjórn?"

You spun round, hair whipping around as you turned to face the owner of the deep voice that thrummed through you.

Lemans grin faltered as he saw your face, wet with tears, he threw down his thick cloak as he rushed over, dropping to a knee and cupping your face gently.

"my heart, what happened? why do you cry?" His face darkens and a snarl starts forming on his face, his hands and eyes gliding over you "did someone hurt you? If someone touched you I'll.."

You shake your head gently, looking into lemans icy blue eyes and smiling shyly.

"no my lord, I'm fine, just wishing for the comforts of home"

You see the tension leave your primarks body as he leans back slightly and your heart fluttered as his easy smile found his face again. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before pressing his forehead against yours.

"The Aett may be far, but you are here and that is home enough for me" he murmured, his voice as thick and sweet as honey mjord as he brushed the tears from your face.

You pulled away and pressed your hands to his cheeks, admiring the way the dying embers cast a warm glow across his face and down his neck. His eyes shone, almost reflective as the light flittered and sputtered.

A thick golden braid had fallen over his shoulder and You leant back in, running the hair through your fingers before pressed a kiss against his lips. His arms wrapped around you and you felt like you were melting into him as he returned your touch, running his tongue along your lips, deepening the kiss.

You gasped as a callused hand found your ass, snaking beneath the metal blue dress you were wearing. Leman took advantage of your shock, pushing is tongue into your mouth and tasting you, his other hand locked in your hair. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sucked his tongue, tasting mjord and smoke, earning a growl in return.

You separated and leman admired the mess you had become already, lips pink and cheeks flushed.

"I can give you a taste of home, if you miss it so much" he smirked, running his tongue along his fangs.

You rolled your eyes and grinned, before leaning back in for another kiss.

Russ took this as an open invite and swept you in his arms, dropping you on the bed and slowly slid your dress off your shoulders, peppering kisses and bites marks down your neck and shoulders as he swept the garment from under you and tossed it to the floor. His hand gripped your waist and ran down your thighs as he took a perk nipple in his mouth and ran his tongue around it, he grinned again, lifting himself from your breast to look at you.

Your eyes were slightly glazed as your chest rose and fell, looking at your lover with doe eyes.

He returned his gaze to your body, trailing his tongue down your stomach before reaching where you wanted.

He lifted your thighs higher as he dove in, licking and sucking on your pussy like a starving man. You gasped and instinctively locked your fingers in his hair.

His tongue felt rough but throne did he know what he what he was doing

Your moaned his name, hips jerking fruitlessly as he held you down, his eyes locked on your face as you came, your hands tightening in his hair as your orgasm rocked through you.

Leman rose, licking away your taste from his lips as he looked down at his work, you lay, flushed and gasping on the warm fur across the bed.

Just the way he liked it

He quickly made light work of his own clothes, throwing them into their own heap next to yours

Your eyes grazed over his body as he stalked towards you, trailing down his broad, scarred chest, following the line of his abs and the trail of hair, lower and lower...

Leman, climbed over you, his braids tickling your skin as he gently gripped one of your hands, locking it next to your head and gazing down at you. You felt your cheeks flush at the intensity of his eyes. The concern, care and feral arousal in his stare raised a heat in your core.

"my little queen" he whispered in your ear, as he slowly slid inside you, inch by inch filing you. You moaned as you felt yourself stretch to your limit, his dick reaching deep inside you as your back arched, pressing your breasts into his chest. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and slowly withdrew, before sliding back inside you, over and over.

"I'll fuck all the sadness right out of you"

You moan his name as he ground into you, one hand still gripping yours as the other held your thigh up, fucking you deeper than you could imagine. His dick touched every part of you as he filled you, over and over. The knot in you stomach getting tighter and tighter...

"L..leman right there!" You mutter into his ear, biting at his lobe "p please"

"Skíthof" he cursed as he felt you tighten around him, "so tight for me" your muscles fluttering around his cock as he drove deeper into you as you came.

Yes, scream my name, you belong to me, my sweet, my heart

You panted as you finished, wrestling your hand free, you gripped around his neck and looked deeply into his eyes.

"I love you, leman" you sighed, biting you lip as the feel of his driving into you, the sound of his breath and skin on skin and the heat from his body drove you towards another peak. "I love you, my wolf"

A brief look of shock passed across Russ's face, his movements became erratic and he growled and dropped his head to your shoulder as you felt him finish, feeling his cum fill you up as he jerked into you, pushing it deep inside your pussy and biting your shoulder, marking you as you cried out, finishing with him.

You stayed like that, wrapped under the body of your lord, his face pressed into the crook of your neck and your arms around him, his dick still wreathed inside you as his cum slowly leaked out.

The reality of your words set in

I love you leman...

The sweet comfort of your afterglow vanished and you blushed furiously.

"did I seriously say that for the first time DURING SEX?!" You screamed internally

Finally, you felt your partner moved, slowly raising off you, his locks tickling across your breasts sending goosebumps across your bare skin as he looked down at you wordlessly, the blue galciers of his eyes looking down at you, almost searching.

"mmm my lord I.." you stutter, trying to find the right words.

He silenced you with a firm kiss, grinning that stupid sexy grin. But despite the smug smile creeping across his features, his face was soft and he met your confused look.

"And I you, my Gmorl"

You lay in shock for a moment, your brain twisting at what was happening as leman pulled away from you and stretched, looking over his shoulder at you. You sat, bolting upright.

"I.. you..."

He smirked at you over his shoulder before rising to his feet and throwing your dress at you.

"come then, sweet one, do you still wish to see fenris again?"

He loved the way your eyes sparkled and you jumped off the bed towards him, clutching your wrinkled dress to your chest.

"really?? We're going home?" You laughed and spun and leman felt his heart skipped a beat in his chest.

He shook his head and bared his fangs in a wide love sick smile

"anything for you, my little love"

[outlaw-livin]

Hunting Partners: part two

Part one.

The sun was setting when they set up camp, deep in the cumberland forest, off the trail where the nearest living things were the critters in the trees and the fish in the river.

Canned chicken soup and crusty bread was their supper, and Mercy sipped her beer as she watched Arthur scribble away in his journal, leaning against a tree, the flames from the fire cast interesting shadows on his handsome face.

“Whatcha writing cowboy?”

“Drawing the view…the river’s peaceful.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitated, then sighed

“Sure..I ain’t much of an artist..”

He held the journal up, and across the two pages was indeed the view of the camp, both the tents, the fire, the river but in the forefront was Mercy’s own face staring back, sipping from her beer bottle.

“You…drew me?”

“I’ve enjoyed hunting with ya..” 

He closed the journal and tucked away the pencil 

“Even if we ain’t caught much.”

She smiled “It's you, trudging ‘bout in your boots, scaring away everything.”

“Well we can’t all be dainty little things like you, Miss Thomas..” 

“I ain’t dainty, nor little.” 

She stood up and walked over to him, she held out the bottle

“As you well know, Mr Morgan.” 

“Forgive me for not being terrified of someone who can’t reach the top shelf at the store.”

He took the bottle and took a swig, he chuckled 

“And who drinks watered down beer..”

“You don’t wanna be sloshed out here…lots of nasty things in these woods.”

A glint appeared in his eye, half devilish, half predatory 

���Yet you willingly sit down to eat with one.” 

“You are a teddy bear compared to some, Morgan.” 

She sat down in his lap, he made no effort to stop her

“Sure..you’ve killed some folk, but who hasn’t?” 

She took the beer bottle from his hand and brought it to her lips, the bastard had almost drank all that was left.

“I’ve done my fair share of bad deeds…so ya won’t scare me away with the big brooding cowboy act.”

She discarded the beer bottle, it clattered somewhere near the rivers edge.  

“You’re playing with fire, Miss Thomas.” 

He placed his large hands on her waist, they almost fit right away around her, his thumbs almost touching.

“Did that night at camp mean anythin’ or was it just a cold evenin’ and ya wanted some warmth?” 

He stared at her lips, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his hat.

“Since I first met ya…I felt something…Something I have no right feeling..”  He squeezed her waist “I thought you and Sean had something..but then that night proved me wrong so I guess I was just..”

He sighed and closed his eyes, she could see his long eyelashes up close, blonde and beautiful, just like his hair.

“Mercy..You deserve better than me.”

“Don’t I get to decide that?”

“I’ve got a prize on my head, I can never settle down…never give you a stable home…or children or-”

She cut him off with a kiss, he tasted of beer and tobacco, and chicken soup, bread crumbs were still in his mustache and beard.

“Arthur..I don’t care ‘bout any of that, Would I have moved out of Valentine if I did?”

“You joined the gang because Sean asked..”

“I joined because of the scary cowboy who eyed me over when he brought me to camp, and I stayed when that man saved my life during the train robbery…”

She cupped his face in her hands, tangling her fingers in his soft beard

“I stayed because of you, Arthur.”

“Merc-”

“Don’t.” she kissed the tip of his nose “I’m a big gal Arthur, I’d rather regret us being together then regret never trying.”

He kissed her this time, pulling her closer by her waist so their chests were pressed together, his teeth tugged at her bottom lip and she gasped, opening her mouth just enough for his tongue to dart inside and rub against hers, she moaned, his fingers dug into her waist with such iron grip she wouldn’t be surprised if they left bruises. 

He pulled away, she whined, he chuckled 

“We didn’t need to bring two tents after all…” 

His voice was low, desire dripping off every word, she remembered the night in his tent, of how he’d whispered in her ear as she buried her face in his chest, trying not to let out any noise that would attract attention, he’d left her a sweaty mewling mess and then just rolled over and slept, at least this time she wouldn’t have to walk back to her own tent, tail between her legs.

“This time there’s no one around…so you can be as loud as you want..” He kissed her neck “Ya can make all those pretty noises..”

“If you give me reason too..” 

He stood up, holding her waist so she could lock her legs around his thick waist.

“Oh I intend to Miss Thomas…dontcha worry.”

[littlefreya]

Poison Honey

Summary: Everyone around you is too busy getting drunk and making out, while you are just dying for this dreadful Christmas party to be over. But just as you plan to leave, you catch the eye of a very hungry August Walker.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd pov)

Word count: 1K

Warnings: Passion, romance, sexual innuendo, a “thrill of the chase” if this may trigger anyone and mild alcohol use.  

A/N: Okay this Christmas drabble came to me in a dream a month ago, and I had to write it down but waited for today to post it. Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira​ who did my beta so quickly! 

Title: Poison Honey

Festive fairy tea lights were strung across the concrete office walls, resembling little flakes of gold over gloom and sparks floating from a pyre. Their aura lit fervent bodies clung together, shining over the grinding and touching figures as they danced to the upbeat Christmas carols that played in a volume so high you could hardly hear yourself think.

It was nothing more but a smouldering den of sin, an orgy of delights. 

Standing at a distant corner with a glass of spicy-sweet sangria pressed to your lips, you watched the massive hall, unable to take part in the sweaty horde that pranced around the golden calf.

You weren’t happy this time of the year, but then again, you never were satisfied. It’s not that life was mundane; it’s just that it existed with no meaning, and these sort of cheap thrills left you shaken. 

Because even though you wanted to take a chance and be that bad girl, deep inside, you knew you could never be one of them. 

A sigh left your lips. Waiting for the appropriate time to depart without having people talk about your introversion later, you downed your drink while deflecting the numerous attempts of Debbie from accounting to drag you into the fuss. 

It was then that you realised, you were not the only one standing alienated from the crowd. 

Funny, you’ve always assumed that a man like Agent Walker would be the first to go balls-deep in at least two women tonight. But he seemed far more enthralled in spying on everyone else and like he was having a good time watching everyone else fuck up.

His eyes burnt with blue flames that laved over many skulls before it slowly licked upon your sight. And as if you could feel both fire and ice ascending in your tendons, a shiver crawled down your back. Languidly, he traced your form. Stroking his moustache briefly, Agent Walker raised the glass of bourbon perched in his hand and gave a small tilt of recognition as if you understood one another though you’ve never spoken before. 

The last drop of sangria couldn’t quench the sudden dryness that formed in your throat. As your anxiety spiked, you did what you knew best and twirled your feet, pretending you had to go somewhere. 

Anywhere.

What were you so afraid of? Living? 

Squeezing the purse in your palm, you hurried to find the jacket left abandoned on your desk. Drunk and sultry, your co-workers swarmed every corner like zombies in a horror flick, and the sounds of passionate lovemaking reverberated through the corridors. Somewhere, in one of the glass-enclosed offices, two colleagues were indulging in a carnal dance.

Agent Walker was no longer in sight, still it resonated in your mind that he was stalking through every passage. Heat bubbled in your belly and between your reaching thighs, the tepid dew began to gather. Maybe you wanted to be chased... And perhaps you desired August Walker to catch you.  

Trying to brush these pesky thoughts away, you finally grabbed your coat and headed towards the exit. The calming warmth one feels when arriving at a shelter began to sink down your sternum. A few steps more, and you were to be safe.

But hope blew off like a candle in a ghastly wind. 

August’s shoulders were broad enough to block any way out as he stood at the pathway. His excessively muscular arms were crossed together, biceps so large they were bigger than your head. His steel-blue shirt looked as if it was about to pop and expose what you could only imagine as the epitome of virility.

The shuddering gasp that escaped you didn’t go unnoticed; he smirked with triumph before his eyes slowly levitated above your head and focused on the ceiling.

“Lucky me,” he chimed, his voice a low and melodic growl that felt like a claw cinched around your heart. 

Skin riddled with goosebumps you followed his gaze, the chill increasing as your mind already processed what you feared to grasp.

The mistletoe was hanging right over your head. 

August’s beguiling smile cut into his left cheek, darkness poisoning his lips. He made a large step forward, easily closing the remaining distance. Yes, you knew he was handsome, but up close, his beauty was ethereal: eyes like precious gems and a strong chin that made every other man look stale. His pouty lips parted as he looked down at you. A small flinch marred your face as he reached a hand to the small of your back.

“Will I get a kiss? Or will you doom me with bad luck?”

Thunderstorms struck the strings of your heart, and in your ears, you felt the throb. If August hadn’t held you in his arms, you would be on the floor by now as your legs wouldn’t cease their jittering.

Fear, desire, and the menacing anxiety of doing something completely outrageous toyed you like a marionette. Before you even realised it your mouth fell open and August leaned in, bourbon and candy on his breath. His whiskers and plump lips touched you first, brushing over so gently it was barely a kiss. Innocently he caressed your mouth before his tongue slithered into your hot cavern and tasted you with a devouring yearning. 

He crushed you; his hard pecs collided with your breasts, turning muscle and bones into a liquid thing for him to manipulate. As he pillaged your mouth, a guttural groan made its way down your entire body and ended fluttering at your womb. 

It felt empyreal, you wanted more. Melting into his steady form, you began to picture his warm body naked above yours, imagining what’s beneath his crisped shirt and ironed tie. You wondered of the size of his manhood and how these soft, lips would taste the plains of your body when he slowly broke the kiss, ending it with a tender groan that vibrated at your mouth.

Breathless, you stared at him, utterly distraught and hastily turning upset. Shame burnt white-hot, tingling across every living cell in your body. Not saying a word you pushed right past him and hurried toward the elevator. 

“Guess I’ll see you around...?” He asked behind you, with a definite victory in his voice.

Ignoring his remark you quickly disappeared to the elevator, thankful as the silver doors closed in your face and rescued you at the last moment. Your heart still rumbled in your chest as if begging to rip itself out and in your mouth lingered a honey-like flavour. 

Clueless fingers outlined the electric tingle over your lips; it was only a kiss, yet everything felt different after tonight. 

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Take Me Out (2/2)

(A/N): ehem, this second part’s a little steamy (by my standards lol)

Part 1 here!

______

The next time you had found yourself in the king of curses’ domain, it was the first time you properly saw him in his physical form. 

“You could at least be a little nicer to me, Sukuna.” you expressed your disappointment of not being greeted warmly by the curse when you had made your way to the bottom of his throne of skulls. “I accepted your date even without seeing what you looked like first. The least you could do is say hi the first time we meet officially.”

Leaning on the side of the throne with his chin rested on his hand, he clicked his tongue at you.

“I should just kill you right now and get it over with.”

But you weren’t even listening, too distracted with staring at Sukuna’s appearance. Having always talked to the curse on Yuuji’s cheek, his physical form was unfamiliar to you. 

You unconsciously bit your bottom lip when your eyes trailed down his body, taking in every one of its features. Even though most of his torso was covered by the robe, anyone could tell he had a fit physique. Your appreciative stares seemed to further inflate his already large ego, prompting him to suddenly rip apart his white robe to properly showcasing his form.

Not that you were complaining. Not one bit.

Watching your still-dazed look with a pleased grin, he teleported down from his throne to where you were standing. 

“I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t think you were a pervert as well.” Sukuna smirked, smugly. 

Unknowingly, you swallowed at the sudden close proximity. It took everything in you not to reach out and touch his abs that were presented before you. 

After realizing you weren’t going to tear your eyes away from his chest anytime soon, Sukuna grabbed your chin with two fingers, pointing your face upward towards his.

“Eyes up here, woman.” he ordered you.

Meeting his eyes, you gulped at the look in them. And your breath hitched when his gaze flitted down to your lips.

A second later, his lips came down on yours.

Your eyes widened at the sensation of his mouth devouring yours, but it didn’t take long for you to adjust to the situation. You could feel him smirk when you returned the kiss with equal fervor. 

One of his hands wrapped around the back of your head, the other around your waist, pulling you in closer. Whatever space there was between the two of you was nonexistent now. Even when the two of you pulled apart in order for you to breathe, he didn’t let go of his hold on you. 

The room was filled with your heavy pants when the two of you finally broke away from each other. 

Sukuna observed your dazed look and swollen lips with a satisfied look on his face. It was the first time you were the flustered one, unable to say anything.

And when the strong force pulled at his consciousness, yanking him back to his designated resting corner in Yuuji’s brain, a devious plan brewed in his mind.

_____

Unbeknownst to you, something had been brewing in Sukuna’s mind ever since your previous encounter with him. And on the next assignment you had with the brat, he was going to put the plan into action.

But when the opportunity came the following week, he was met with the sight of you laying on the ground, clutching your stomach in pain. A steady stream of blood was seeping through your fingers, while a smaller trail leaked from the corner of your mouth. Cackling from an unidentified curse was heard over your coughing of blood, the laughter mocking the current state your were in.

At the sight of your injuries and loss of blood, Sukuna’s brows furrowed. He didn’t comment on your situation, instead choosing to direct his attention to the curse that was celebrating your currently wounded state.

When the curse noticed Sukuna’s glare, it flinched under his gaze. 

Realizing who had just entered the room and knowing the obvious outcome if it stayed in the king of curses’ presence any longer, the weaker curse tried to make a run for it. But before it could it could take a step back, its body was slashed into large chunks- thick, black liquid pooling on the ground from the sudden dismemberment. The head of the curse, fully detached from its body, dropped to the floor; briefly rolling a few feet away before coming to a stop on the side of its cheek.

Sukuna grinned in satisfaction as he watched the curse’s dark blood spew out from the its mouth. He neared the now detached head, shoes scrunching from all the blood on the floor. 

“You touched what’s mine.” he stated, with a psychotic smile.

Now, unable to attempt any form of escape, the bloodshot eyes on the severed head widened in terror at the stronger curse in the room. 

Placing a foot on the dismembered head, Sukuna’s smile dropped. 

“Now you’ll die.” 

All of the dismembered body parts were suddenly engulfed in burning cursed flames- and despite being detached to the rest of it’s body, the curse was able to feel the pain of each lick of fire. 

The curse’s face scrunched in pain from the pressing on it’s head from Sukuna’s foot, An only watch as all its body parts were suddenly engulfed in burning red flames, feeling the pain of each lick of the fire despite being detached to the rest of its body. 

Once the fire dissipated after there was nothing left to burn, Sukuna pressed down heavily on the dismembered head; a series of crunches sounding from beneath his foot until nothing stood in the way between his shoe and the floor.

A cough brought Sukuna’s attention back to you.

You hadn’t moved from your original spot, still laying down on the floor; struggling to take in a breath without coughing. He teleported to where you were, the weak curse now out of the way.

A trail of red leaked from the hand you had used to cover your mouth with. And the bright liquid stained the shirt you wore, darkening the white fabric with each drop.

“I guess I’m not going to be able to make it to our date.” you chuckled weakly, staring up at him. Your lips were coated with a mix of dried and fresh blood.

“You’re not going to die.” Sukuna muttered. “I told you, I’m going to be the one who kills you.” 

Placing a hand out, he used the Reverse Cursed technique to direct his cursed energy into sealing up your gaping wounds. In an instant, you were healed. Well, for the most part. The pain from the previous wounds still lingered in your nerves and there was the fact that you had lost quite a good amount of blood, causing your head to spin when you tried to stand up.

Your whole body groaned in protest as you forced your legs to support the rest of your weight; swaying a bit before grabbing onto the nearest stable thing- which was Sukuna. He didn’t seem to mind too much being used as a substitute for a wall, seeing as you weren’t pushed back onto the ground by him.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” you said, clutching your spinning head with a moan. 

The overwhelming presence of iron from the blood on your lips left a bad taste in your mouth. You leaned further onto him for support, trying to avoid looking at spinning floor by closing your eyes.

“Don’t throw up on me, woman.”

You breathed in and out deeply, trying to ignore the pungent smell of blood filling your senses, instead focusing on the musky scent coming from the person in front of you. You wondered if the scent belong to him or Yuuji, since the body technically belonged to the latter of the two.

“Distract me, then.” you replied without thought. 

Expecting another monologue on ways he was going to murder you in cold blood, you mentally braced yourself. 

But to your surprise, he remained silent. Instead, he grabbed your chin, lifting it up to his face.

Your eyes opened blearily in an attempt to figure out what his plan was.  Focusing your blurry, spinning vision, your eyes fixated on the suspicious smirk on his face. Before you could deduce where you had seen the specific smirk- without warning, he enveloped your lips with his own. And when he finally let you breathe, your were sure your head was spinning for a different reason than before.

He held your gaze with dark eyes, making a show of licking some of your blood that had gotten on his bottom lip. The action should have disgusted you, but you could only react with a hard swallow.

You gave him a questioning look when the smirk on his face quickly morphed into a frown. It was when the black marks decorating his body began fading away, that you realized Yuuji was regaining control of his body again.

“(Y/N)-senpai, are you okay?” Yuuji’s face turned into worry after registering your current appearance. “Sukuna wasn’t the one who did this to you, was he?”

You shook your head, giving your kouhai a reassuring smile. 

“No, just the opposite actually.”

“That’s a relief!” Yuuji gave a sigh of relief, completely clueless of what had just happened.

___

It seemed Sukuna had finally come up with the best way to kill you off. 

The cause of your death; prolonged loss of breath due to kissing. Whether this method was going to be effective or not, Sukuna was definitely attempting to find out through a series of experimentations. 

The moment that Sukuna was able to take control of his host’s body, he would seek you out wherever you were on campus, and you somehow always ended up sandwiched between him and a couch, or a wall, or the floor, or a bed, etc. After a round of suffocating you with his lips, he would allow you to catch your breath for a brief moment, giving you the false hope that you could finally breathe like a normal person.  Once he deemed you had breathed enough to continue, he would attack your lips once again, repeating the cycle right until he was forced to hand the reigns of control back to Yuuji.

To say that you tried stopping him would be a blatant lie. Besides, if he was always locking lips with you during his time of control, it meant he wasn’t out somewhere on a killing spree or committing mass genocide of some kind. It was a difficult(?) sacrifice, yes, but one that you were very willing to take for the greater good.

“Mffm- Su-“ you words were again interrupted by his addicting lips. 

Before you could succumb to his temptation for the fifth time that hour, you placed your hands firmly against his cheeks, pulling them away from your face.

“Sukuna, I need to go or I’m going to miss my flight.” you tried to convince him.

But your words fell on deaf ears, as he swatted away your hands, trying to near your lips again.

“Miss it then,” he grumbled.

It took all of your willpower to back away out of his enticing reach.

“As much as we would both like me to stay,” you laughed at his scoff of denial, “my flight leaves in an hour.”

You couldn’t help but grin at him, his disgruntled look resembling somewhat of a childish pout.

“Fine then, get lost.” he griped, but didn’t make a move to get off of you.

“Is that really your parting words to me?” you jokingly frowned. “What if I die out there, Sukuna? This is your last chance to leave behind no regrets and finally confess your secret love for me.”

“I’m the one who’s going to kill you, woman. I’ll confess my undying love for you then.“ he said sarcastically.

“So you do love me.” 

“Tch.” Sukuna rolled his eyes at your cheekiness. “Just don’t get killed out there by some weak-ass curse, like last time.”

You patted his cheek gently with a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t miss our date. I’m looking forward to it too much to die now.”

He sighed once again at your flirtation, now used to your teasing. He motioned to get off from you, but was stopped by a tug on his shirt. 

He raised a brow at your hand gripping down onto his clothing. “You just said you had to leave, woman. Make up your mind.”

“I guess I could catch one of the later flights.” you reasoned with a grin.

And this time you were the one reaching for his lips. 

___________________________

*(A/N): hehe, this was supposed to be angsty but then somehow it ended up like this lol. anyways, thank you for reading~ ^^

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #12: THE ATTRACTION BETWEEN TWO BODIES!

September, 1986

Zzzax!

Quantum!

Halflife!

TROUBLE!

Oh ho, ah ha! I see we’re still doing random super goons for the West Coast Avengers to fight.

I won’t lie, I kinda like it.

Considering the meta plot is ‘Tigra needs to kill Master Pandemonium so the cat king will make her less horny,’ this string of random tricky goobers for the team to fight is entertaining. The wheels sure are spinning on the meta plot but we’ve got some good, dumb fights. It feels like a throwback to the simpler storytelling of the silver age Avengers.

Meanwhile, Stern’s Avengers is killing it on the more serialized style.

I know Zzzax as ‘when an electricity guy is needed but Electro is busy’ but the other two are new to me. Although Quantum looks like he should fight Captain Mar-Vell. He has the look of the kind of guy Mar-Vell would punch.

Halflife is clearly a bride of Frankenstein.

So let’s get into it.

Last times in West Coast Avengers: The Thing almost joined the team but then didn’t. The team fought Griffin and Headlok. Then, Mockingbird and co went to visit Nick Fury so she could give her sympathies for the poor, maligned intelligence community which was even then being compromised as hell. Then the team fought Shockwave, Zaran the Weapons Master, and Razorfist. And now, this:

I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about Simon Williams.

That costume is an abomination.

The fact that the rest of the team repeatedly reassure him that it’s a great change proves that the West Coast Avengers have no taste whatsoever.

Shame on all of you.

Shame.

This isn’t a situation where I’m going to go ‘lol jk’ under the fold.

That costume bad.

Apparently one of the designers (costume designers? Set designers?) for Bladerunner (legally distinct from Blade Runner?) designed this outfit for Simon.

Bladerunner is probably a shit movie if this is what unnamed designer came up with.

I do like that Simon is just flaunting his Hollywood connections though. He wanted a new costume, he just went up to a guy who worked in movies and told him to design him one.

I hope you paid the man for his eyesore, Simon.

There’s some other bits that go in this discussion of his new costume.

Simon was letting his hair gray without much complaint. Now he’s dyeing it black again. He claims that his hair is prematurely gray because of that time he spent dead and anyway, he’s in movies now. Its an industry of vanity.

He also ditched the goggles or glasses because he’s not going to hide his eyes anymore.

Wonder Man: “I’m not Cyclops of the X-Men! The ionic energy in me isn’t dangerous! And once I decided to make that change, I figured -- why shouldn’t I look my age?”

... What IS your age though? You were the CEO of your own company before you drove it into the ground by being less good than Tony Stark and also embezzlement.

How old are you, Simon? How old are ANY of you??

Actually, my favorite part in this parade of bad taste is Tigra asking if moving the jets up to his shoulders will toast his buns.

Tigra: “But won’t the jet-flames shoot down your back and burn your, uh ---”

Wonder Man: “Not if your ‘uh’ is invulnerable!”

Fair point, fair point ipreferredthebeltjetspersonally but fair point.

Is the ass of your pants fire-proof?

I guess we’ll find out one way or another soon.

Mockingbird tells everyone to hold that thought and runs off.

Because Simon isn’t the only one that has a new costume to show off.

God. I don’t like, love, or tolerate Wonder Man’s new costume but I kinda love all these idiots just proudly showing off their fashion disasters to each other.

Anyway, Hawkeye points out that he and Mockingbird have been using the costumes they wore in New York but whoops New York climate is not L.A. climate.

So Hawkeye removed the sleeves from his costume to rock the sun’s out, guns out look.

Wonder Man: “Yes, and we’re glad you stopped there!”

Iron Man: “Just as we’re glad Tigra didn’t!”

Iron Man, please. If you make the West Coast Avengers need an HR department, you know its just going to be Hank Pym and that’s going to be awkward for everyone.

Also, I can’t prove it but I’m like 52% sure that somehow Wonder Man found out about that time Hawkeye’s costume had no pants and he’s been waiting to bust his chops about it.

Speaking of no pants,

Mockingbird’s new costume doesn’t have any pants.

Her fighting style requires the long, wide sleeves, I think. So, yeah, off go the pants.

Also, she’s letting her hair grow out a little. The never ending drama of her haircut continues.

Iron Man refuses to change his armor because this is his new iconic armor dammit. This isn’t the modern age where he can just slap on a new suit every time there’s a new run. The Silver Centurion has to last a while!

Speaking of looks, Iron Man says changing the subject, Tigra has a magical amulet that lets her look like her old human self that she never uses.

Why is that?

Tigra, looking confused at the question: “Huh!”

It’s something she hasn’t thought about lately! She’s just super comfortable in her Tigra skin.

Wonder Man asks if she’s changing her mind on which of her two souls she’s going to keep.

Tigra: “Me? Don’t be silly! But with all this glorious sun, I can’t stop with uncovering just one part of my glorious bod! Might as well be comfortable, right? Changing my mind -- ? No... I’ve made my decision...”

Good for you, Tigra?

It might be an empowering affirmation but this book is gonna be a creep about it.

Also, this creep is gonna be a creep about it.

Using mysterious superpowers to bend reflected light so you can creep from a distance is sure putting a lot of effort into being a creep, mysterious creep.

Mysterious creep is so horny that he decides “I can wait no longer! I must have her, and I must have her now! The plan begins at once!”

So, that’s going somewhere.

Back at the West Coast Avengers Compound, Mockingbird asks to speak to Tigra who agrees “just so long as we stay outdoors!”

Mockingbird reminds that Tigra asked her to help with her two-soul problem however long ago but recently she seems pretty contented sooooo....

Tigra yells at Mockingbird to get off her back about it.

Which is an interesting reaction considering Mockingbird hadn’t even gotten around to asking her question yet.

Tigra: “Everything’s okay with me, Mockingbird! The cat-people promised they’d cure me, no strings attached!”

And then she storms off.

Leaving Mockingbird suspicious that Tigra mentioned strings unprompted. Using her keen intelligence work training, she now suspects that Tigra isn’t telling them everything!

Very insightful, Bobbi.

But Tigra is sure that the Avengers may suspect that there is a string attached but they’ll never guess that she has to do a murder on Master Pandemonium.

Tigra: Not that killing a crook like Master Pandemonium is anything to be ashamed of -- he’s tried to kill us twice -- but they might not understand! They don’t share my sense of the hunt -- for prey, or for passion!

So Tigra goes to try to make out with Wonder Man.

Tigra: “Long time no petting, big man!”

Whoa!

Pretty forward!

But Wonder Man tells her that though he really enjoyed making out with her on the beach, there can be no more casual petting between them.

He thinks that he might have a chance with Christy, from the movie set. Since they’ve been working pretty closely.

And Wonder Man was under the impression that Tigra was with Hank...?

Tigra: “What about me and Hank? We’re not an item, if that’s what you mean!”

Wonder Man: “He thinks you are -- !”

Tigra: “Pfui on what he thinks! NOBODY OWNS ME!”

And she storms off again, yelling that women with glasses aren’t attractive.

It’s a matter of opinion, really.

So, Tigra finds Iron Man instead.

He wanted to relax in the sun as much as everyone else but the most he could muster is... just taking the helmet off.

I don’t remember whether Tony has a secret identity here or not. I know that Tigra knows who he is. And he was walking around with Hawkeye and Mockingbird out of costume so they could visit Fury.

Okay, so probably the team knows.

Don’t know why he’s only taking off his helmet. Because he says he wanted to duck into his personal bungalow so he could take off his helmet. Like he’s hiding his identity.

Whatever.

Anyway, Tigra tries to hit on him too.

But despite all of Tony’s light inappropriate comments during his time on this team with Tigra, he was just being friendly.

Apparently Tony is one of those people who is just always flirty.

But he still feels too guilty over dating Jan after she divorced Hank. He could never do anything with Tigra while she’s with Hank or while Hank thinks she is (because of her making out with him). Especially when Hank is still messed up over losing his robot son.

Since Tony tried to soften the blow by saying he’d be all over Tigra if Hank weren’t involved, Tigra storms off to break up with Hank.

Geez.

She finds Hank inside the main compound building talking to Joachin, apparently the manager of the grounds crew.

Huh! The West Coast Avengers have a support staff!

Anyway, Tigra basically yells ‘beat it nerd!’ and Joachin excuses himself.

Tigra doesn’t get the chance to give Hank a piece of her mind because Hank “aware of what women are thinking” Pym sees her mad face, assumes that it’s because he hasn’t been paying enough attention to her, and asks if she wants to kiss.

And she does.

Tigra: “Sure! Who could turn down a kiss...?”

Tigra, this is just kicking the problem down the road...

Anyway, IN SPACE

Near THE SUN

That Quantum dude from the cover who looks like he should fight Captain Mar-Vell pops out of the Sun and heads for Earth.

In fairness, the Earth shot first.

He’s not the only introduction.

At Horesham Nuclear Plant, alarms suddenly go off, signaling a meltdown or maybe a meltout.

Does that make any sense? No? Too bad.

The bride of Frankenstein like lady melts out of the reactor and kills the nuclear technicians with a touch as she strolls out of the plant.

As she’s on her way out, the high-voltage lines leading from the plant snap, revealing Zzzax, the man-shaped electromagnetic energy field. He was introduced in the Hulk book and has apparently died at the end of his every appearance.

Doesn’t seem to have slowed him down.

Anyway, he joins bride of Frankenstein (Halflife) and the two hike south towards Los Angeles.

Huh. Weird.

Seems like some kind of gathering of some kind of group.

But whyyyy?

Also, according to marvel wiki, this group is sometimes called Trouble, as on the cover, and that’s a stupendously stupid name.

Back at the West Coast Avengers Compound, Hank Pym briefs Hawkeye on his findings on the deed book that was mysteriously burned.

Annnd he doesn’t have a lot to report. There were heavy sulfur compounds and evidence of extremely high heat which didn’t singe the adjacent pages. So its obviously magic nonsense.

Hawkeye: “Sounds like Master Pandabear, all right!”

But Hank has some other ideas.

Since Master Pandemonium was a movie star, Wonder Man could ask around the studios to see if anyone knows anything. And Hank can pick up where Firebird left off and check with any local occult bookstores.

Business out of the way, Hawkeye asks how Hank and Tigra are doing.

Hank, a poor dolt, thinks things are going just great!

Unaware that elsewhere, Tigra is kicking herself “why do I melt any time any man wants me?”

Cat soul, probably.

Maybe you should see about having that looked at?

But she suddenly decides that she doesn’t care about self-control (which is saying no, self-control is saying that’s enough) and that when she kills Master P and gets one of her souls yanked out, she’s going to stick with being Tigra and just Tigra. Goodbye human worries and inhibitions.

And then while jumping around the trees, she comes up short and painfully bellyflops to the ground.

Tigra, if you’re still alive, I want to ask what good is a cat soul if you can’t even reliably land on your feet?

... I’m pretty sure she’s still alive.

She has so many more degrading plot points to be part of.

=|

Anyway, Quantum appears above the city yelling in an alien language and blasting out heat.

The goofy bystanders guess that what he’s yelling is probably a challenge and probably for the (West Coast) Avengers since they’re the only superhero team “this so-called town’s got!”

Oh, and Zzzax and Halflife show up too.

Unlike Quantum, they can speak.

Zzzax apparently wants to eat the electrical energy in people! That’s distressing!

The LAPD calls the (West Coast) Avengers (and gets Hank since he answers the phones) because “this is what you’re supposed to be for!” and Hank summons the (West Coast) Avengers.

Tigra doesn’t show up, due to her probably non-fatal bellyflop but Hank says there’s no time to wait for her.

Hank Pym, non-superhero: “There are three major menaces on Sunset Boulevard!”

Iron Man: “Sounds like a set-up for a punchline -- but I still don’t know L.A. well enough to know what it is!”

... Hah.

Anyway, the West Coast Avengers minus Tigra pile into the Quinjet and about seven minutes later, Iron Man and Wonder Man are jumping out of the Quinjet over Sunset Boulevard.

Wonder Man: “Every time I go into action, I get to be a real, live Wonder Man! What could be better than that?”

He punches Quantum and whoops now there’s lots of Quantum.

Wonder Man assumes that lots of Quantum won’t be strong but whoops, he made an ass out of him and him.

Iron Man: “I think that was the set-up to a punch line, Wondy!”

Wonder Man: “I know! I know!”

With Iron Man and Wonder Man dealing with excessive Quantums, Mockingbird squares up against Halflife (designated girl fight?) and Hawkeye against Zzzax.

In fairness to that last one, Hawkeye has fought and beat Zzzax before. He’s pretty sure he can beat him in no time flat just by shooting an arrow with a wire through him into a water source.

Except... Hawkeye doesn’t know where to find water in Los Angeles.

I think there’s an ocean somewhere westward. Does that help, Hawkeye?

Mockingbird similarly thinks she’ll be done with her opponent “this refugee from Frederick’s of Hollywood” pretty quickly and then she’ll come help Hawkeye find water.

Halflife: “Quiet, woman! Your raucous bravado disturbs the tranquility of -- Halflife!”

Huh, so that’s what she do.

That answers one question about this bridge of Frankenstein. But her statement here raises more questions.

Why is she getting involved in superhero fights if she doesn’t like raucous bravado and would prefer the tranquility of living in a nuclear reactor? Also, why was she living in a nuclear reactor??

(For the tranquility, probably)

Anyway. She makes people age. Probably halves their life, if I had to guess.

A Quantum knocks Wonder Man to the road and Hawkeye asks if he’ll find (and break) a water main while he’s at it.

Wonder Man rips up a water main and sprays the water all over. Hawkeye shoots a wired arrow and shorts out Zzzax just like he said he would.

Wow, Zzzax lasted no time and got to do zero things.

That’s why when villains with a super easy way to beat them come back, they’ve usually made some personal changes so that super easy way doesn’t work anymore.

Otherwise you wind up like Zzzax here.

With Zzzax there taken care of, Hawkeye runs to help Mockingbird who has aged terribly but Iron Man lands between Halflife and Mockingbird and Hawkeye, figuring he’s better suited to take her on.

Halflife: “And you think Halflife cannot speed the process of decay within you, metal man? My touch takes you halfway to your death  -- and each subsequent touch takes you half the remaining distance!”

That makes me curious whether she can age Iron Man’s armor or not but probably not but it doesn’t matter, even touching Iron Man’s armor is aging the man inside.

Iron Man still has a point that he’s better suited to fight Halflife though because he can up the power of his armor to compensate as the man inside ages.

But he’s not actually... doing anything with keeping his power up. He’s not fighting back because he’s spending all his effort adjusting the armor’s power.

So now three Avengers are tied up with Halflife which is fairly non-ideal when the other villain in the fight is a lot of guys.

Wonder Man actually realizes this. That Quantum is strong and numerous but that Halflife is taking Avengers out of the fight.

So he just swoops down and whisks her away from his three teammates.

She threatens that she’ll just age him the same she did his teammates but whoops. Can’t age energy.

Wonder Man: “I’m not flesh and blood! I’m ionic energy -- I don’t ever have to age or die -- and you can’t take me halfway to nowhere!”

And then he knocks her out in one punch. I guess she doesn’t have a lot going for her other than that aging trick.

Wonder Man: All those years of fearing death -- and all the time, I was essentially immortal!

Irony!

Anyway, there’s no ontological inertia here. As soon as Halflife was knocked out, the aging effects vanished from Mockingbird and Iron Man.

Speaking of easy victories once you figure out their deal...

Hawkeye just pulls a theory out his butt that Quantum is solar-powered and uses a smokescreen arrow to make him take a beddy-bye.

I seriously have no idea how he came to this conclusion but I guess I shouldn’t discount the archer.

Remember, he’s the scientific genius who invented anti-gravity just for fun.

With all three Troubles down for the count, Hawkey congratulates the team for good teamwork.

They did a less obvious CHANGE PLACES “and fought what would have seemed the other guys’ enemies!”

I mean. Kinda.

Wonder Man fought the girl who had been designated for the girl fight. And Hawkeye fought the flying brick enemy. But Hawkeye also took out the electrical guy which was his opponent at the start. Mockingbird got olded and then didn’t get to do anything. And Iron Man didn’t do much at all except buy time.

Geez, I keep getting the feeling that Iron Man doesn’t do a lot in this book.

Hawkeye: “We really are what I’ve always wanted us to be -- a team!”

He says as Tigra is missing.

‘Wow, we’re really clicking today for some reason!’

I joke. But its a weird thing to pat yourself on the back for when the team isn’t all there, isn’t it?

With all the back patting accomplished, Iron Man realizes something is poking his brain about the specific guys that they just fought. Poking his SCIENCE brain.

And as waves of gravity bring the team to their knees and then flat on their asses, Iron Man realizes too late what the group theme was.

THE FOUR FUNDAMENTAL FORCES!

Graviton, you giant nerd.

... And he was the one creeping on Tigra and now has her on a leash. Graviton, you consistent creep.

Now, I’m not a very science person, unlike Tony Science-Brain Stark.

But the four fundamental forces are gravity, the weak atomic force, the strong nuclear force, and electromagnetism.

I don’t think Zzzax was very magnetic but was very electric. But he’s dispersed so this group never got to be all four forces together.

Do Halflife and Quantum represent the weak and strong forces?

The weak force is responsible for particle decay and Halflife talked about decay a lot but it was more aging decay so... did Graviton just go ‘wtfe close enough’?

And the strong force is what holds an atom’s nucleus together. Does it make sense that the guy that represents it splits like an RPG slime if hit?

Science side of my audience, let me know.

The important thing though is that Graviton is back even though the last time he tangled with the West Coast Avengers, they drugged his drink and then kicked his ass.

Can’t wait for them to kick his ass again and I hope Tigra doesn’t make out with him.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because. Like and reblog too. Going minimalist this time.

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Wished by Anonymous

Request: Hi! I love your blog! I hope you have a nice day and I got through your rules and I hope this is within what you are comfortable with! Can I request a Marco with a reader that is literally a real phoenix? Like she doesn’t show her powers but when someone (Izo) gets hurt very badly, she just burst out into this bright red phoenix and start heling everyone while hurting the enemy? Thank you!

...

None of them could believe their eyes.  

Not even when they could feel the very heat from your flaming feathers as you flew past them.

Not even as they watched you, from the very corners of their eyes, jump off from the wooden railings of the ship and transform into the very fiery bird they see before their eyes. Clawing away at the enemy as you flapped your enormous wings, the winds produced with every wave being the equivalence to those produced by some of the strongest hurricanes.

It was magnificent you see. To be in the presence of such beauty, surrounded by the warm glows of golden embers and wisp of red. The glow so bright that it blinded all, the hue so vivid that it bathed the blue skies into a deep vermillion. No more could clouds be seen, no more could the sun be seen --- everything was bathed in red and gold, no other hue existed.

“You dare hurt my friends? My brothers and sisters?” Your voice boomed through the battlefield. Your presence was strong, stronger than even those given the title of Yonko. But how could that be? You hadn’t held the ability of the Conqueror’s Haki nor had you yet to take a bite of the Devil’s Fruit ---  by all reason, you were supposed to be an ordinary person, err, pirate at the very least. Yet the question remains, how was this possible?

It was then at the middle of watching you battle the foes, tearing them down by the tens and disintegrating them with the mere look of the eye, that the Whitebeard Pirates had begun to feel a strange sensation course throughout their bodies. A sensation that began as a warmth of sorts before settling into a sort of coolness. They watch in awe as their wounds, licked by your flames, disappear as though they had never been inflicted in the first place.

“Uh, did you know about this?” Ace inquired, landing right beside his brothers, his own flames licking the soles of his feet.

“That (Y/N) was a freaking phoenix? Hell no. Never even saw it coming to be honest.”  Thatch admitted, a chuckle rumbling out from his chest. Scratching his strangely formed beard, he sent a smirk over to his blond brother,” What about you, hm Marco? Knew that the love of your life was of bird kin too, eh?” Said man rolled his eyes, yet his gaze never left your figure. He watched with great pride as you defended the crew with swiftness and grace unlike anything he’s ever seen before. He watched as you made your way over to the badly injured Izo, your figure hovering carefully over his battered body. And with a single wing, you laid it just inches above him, the feathers gently caressing his wounds. With every lick, the open skin would mend itself back to a close, the skin blushed with newly found life. Izo’s jaw slackened, eyes widening in shock upon your arrival.

“(Y/N)? I-Is that really you?”  He asked. His voice shaken and hoarse. He could still taste the iron of his blood in his mouth.

“Hop on, you idiot!” You yelled out,  stretching your wings away to expose your back. Seeing this, he, with his replenished energy, found himself strong enough to haul himself up from the ground and onto your back. His hands, bruised and calloused, gripped tightly onto the flesh of your neck. “Hold on tight cause I’m gonna burn these fools to the ground!”  It was a simple line of dialogue as it was a simple line of truth.

There wasn’t much after that, everything was as you told. 

Nothing but scorched grounds and shadows of those who once stood.

They dared not to speak of the screams that still lingered in the air.

Returning back towards the ship, you were greeted by a merry sight. Everyone stood by the railings of the Moby Dick, smiles upon their blushing cheeks as they roar in applause upon your arrival. If you were in your human form they would be met by the shake of your head and the sight of your smile. Hovering just above their heads, you made way for the middle of the deck, your crewmates backing up as to not get caught by your wings. Hopping off your spine, Izo stumbled as he regained his footing, his hair breaking away from their bondage and flying wildly as you body was overtaken by yet another blinding glow.

As the glow died down, you gracefully landed upon the wooden planks, the fire that once surrounded you now overwhelmed by the nip of the sea’s freshness. No longer did you smell the addictive scent of smoke, but did you smell the equal addicting scent of sea salt. Turning around, you look up to the Gunner, a worried fold upon your brows.

“Are you okay? They didn’t hurt that bad right?” You inquired, voice dripping wet of worry.

 An angry vein popped out from his forehead.

“Fuck off! What I want to know is when were you going to tell us about...about THAT?!” He yelled angrily at the top of his lung, earning a small pout from you. 

“Well if we’re gonna be like that, your makeup is smudged.” If looks could kill... Raising your hands above your head, you made a face as you slowly backed away from him. Putting your hands into your pockets, you spoke, “I was gonna tell you...eventually.” Clicking his tongue, the Gunner’s gaze softened. Walking up to you, he hesitantly placed a hand upon your head, a smile slowly erupting upon his painted lips as he whispered a small thanks before moving way. And with that, the festivities began.

By the time the afternoon sun was no more, every one had gone below deck to enjoy a swell meal prepared by their favorite chef, Thatch. You could even hear their loud cheers and singing even from where you stood. Their joy breathing into the very cold sea air she breathed, their energy running course through her veins as she felt a warmth blossom upon her bosom. A warmth caused by familial love. 

“So, when were you planning to inform me of your...abilities-yoi?” A familiar voice spoke from behind you. It was then that you felt another’s chest press firmly against your spine, their breath right beside your ear. You felt his arms wrapped around your waist, the muscle rippling under his bare skin. Leaning back into your wall of muscle, you breathed out a sigh. Feeling as all the tension in your body quickly faded away. He always did have that affect on you strangely enough.

“I don’t know...I mean you never asked.” He grunted, finding dissatisfaction with your answer. You sighed, “I really don’t know. It’s just something I don’t really talk about. Well mainly because if it were a known fact that I was an actual phoenix, the World Government would be even hotter on my trail.” Humming, he held you in silence for just a few minutes more before kissing your temple, his lips chapped but soft.

“At least now we know for a fact that we’re going to have baby chicks-yoi.” You chuckled, gazing out into the sea with a soft expression. “Yeah I guess so.” “Then let’s go.” You froze, “Huh?” 

Shifting in his arms, you tilted your head upwards. Your eyes peering through your lashes as you gave him a look of disbelief. But you were only met by the sight of his usual expression of half-lidded eyes and that lazy smirk of his. 

“I hate to admit it, but watching you turn into an actual phoenix and slay the enemies really got me hot and bothered. So let’s get going.” You had no time to react for he quickly threw you over his shoulder, a hand sitting on your ass.

“Whoa, whoa! Wait! What?!” A few men still hanged around the upper deck, so upon seeing your situation they couldn’t help but laugh. Wolf-whistling as they watched Marco take you in the way of his room.

“Can you believe that? Soon enough, there’ll be mini-Marcos and mini-(Y/N)’s running around the Moby Dick!” Haruta jested alongside Vista, a mug of beer in his hand.

“Gurararara~! I’m going to be a grandfather!” Exclaimed joyously Whitebeard, a grin on his face as the rest of the men cheered you and Marco on. Smirking, the pineapple man pated your rear,

“See-yoi? Now we gotta meet everyone’s expectation-yoi. There’s no escaping tonight-yoi~!”

Fuck.

...

Original Request 

(A/N): If you’re going to request something, read the rules. 

Hope you enjoyed!

[alatismeni-theitsa]

(1/2) I know this is some controversial topic and that you sometimes cover US politics, but what do you think the american left needs to improve to reach to more people and be taken more seriously?; It's unbelievable that in the very 2021, apolitical folk are still fallin into the whole "the leftist are a bunch of crazies" narrative, we may do some pushback the last three years against conservative politics.

(2/2)  But it's still not enough; on your personal opinion, what fundamental core value needs to be changed to engage to these apolitical people and that leftist want politics to improve the quality of life of the population without being labeled as a "petulant, whiney children" There's some greek-flavored advice that we can apply to our discourse? Thanks in advance :)

========================== END OF ASK ======================

Ooooo… Great question! And by “great” I mean “Do you want me to go down in flames and get cut a thousand times with pitchforks??” xD But it’s very interesting so I will answer it! And you will be subjected to an essay of 3.200 words 😘💅 (I want to be meticulous, don’t come at me)

Please assume the tone is light and conversational. I am not in a very serious or dramatic mood, and I don’t want to estrange any group by assuming the role of an all knowing tutor or someone who always has the high moral ground. This is just 1am blabbering.

I am not against leftists. On the contrary, I know their side so well that I think I have a solid opinion on its flaws. (I have friends who are left- okay I’ll stop xD) Needless to say, the right side also has flaws and the two sides often share flaws. But right now, we are only talking about the leftists. And of course, #notallleftists xD I recognize that leftists are ordinary and diverse people with empathy and capability of critical thinking and problem-solving (Did I mention I have friends who ar--) Jokes aside, I think my following is quite left leaning and I am not bashing them here. I am criticizing the movement as a whole and trying to see where it can be improved.

***** Anyways, I will generalize the bad traits for the sake of everyone’s time, it’s what I am saying! So, when I say “they” I will probably mean “some” or “the bad apples” etc.  *****

To begin, US leftists don’t want to, but they are accidentally imperialist xD Unfortunately, they don't know much about other countries, and they don’t usually have knowledge of countries they are talking about if they don’t have an immediate connection to them. Not knowing things is fine, but when people on this site are like “ugh Americans” this points to an ignorance and a sort of entitlement that doesn’t occur this often in other countries. My internet cycle is overwhelmingly leftist and yet I continue seeing willingness for ignorance all around - and when I check it’s not by conservatives.

Leftists think their (social and not) politics apply to every country and culture, that people in different countries classify themselves as they do in the US. And when people from those countries talk about their problems, there is always an American that wants to give input based on American politics, and without knowing the situation in this other country they want to talk about. Ironically, the last one is a behavior of conservative politicians. Conservative politicians and citizens sometimes think it’s fine to intervene in other countries for “the greater good”. Well, leftists do the same but on the internet. It stalls conversation and makes it messy and force foreigners to apply to American standards.

Because leftists don't understand social differences between countries, they project their own politics, and that can make them seem obsessed with skin color and blind to cultural diversity. They act like only Americans or certain countries have every lived through colonialism and suffered slaughter and slavery. (Because they don’t feel the need to study and learn further.) To an American that might not be the case, but when Americans converse with foreigners about foreign issues, they seem to have a blind spot.

They act as if only white, cis, straight people can be perpetrators of imperialism. Booyyy I have news xD Yes, of course white, cis, straight people can be perpetrators of imperialism, but the attitude that they are the first to blame, always, it’s faulted. I have many experiences, but let’s start with a very simple one, of an Indian American young woman who thought only a lota can clean you with water in the toilet, and that Europeans haven’t heard of bidets or any other means of cleanliness (or that they have the bathtub RIGHT THERE xD) One of the highlights was a Black woman insisting “Medusa was Black because my grandma told me” despite what Greeks were telling her.

Another thing that stuck with me was the case of a Greek who wanted to write about the people who happen to be a minority in the US (you would call them poc I guess). Many people from those countries were enthusiastic about the project and aided the writer as much as they could, sharing culture and realizing how many things in common they had. But it was from same populations in the US that the writer found people who blamed them for daring to write something outside of their culture. (To explain, most US Americans were fine, but only in the US were some who were hostile). Or, I have seen Chinese Americans being offended by a certain thing (I think it was something about fashion) saying “this is an offense to Chinese culture” meanwhile Chinese people from everywhere else in the world (99% of Chinese, I’d say) said “I don’t understand… this is fine!”

Many US American poc categorize all light skinned Caucasians of the world as White Americans and the rest are the “cultured” Black or Brown people. US Americans are now learning that Slavic cultures exist and it’s… something else to watch leftists realizing light skinned people can have great embroidery and they are not actually stealing Mexican traditional clothing xD (reference to an obscure “calling out” comment on tik tok).

I don’t specifically target US poc here, I am just mentioning that everyone conveniently forgets them as if they are untouchable and never said anything ignorant, while they are as active on social media causes as other Americans. In fact, if most poc are aligned to a side, that would be the Left. They are a very big part of the progressive movement – and that’s why I am giving so much space here for them – but then it seems they can’t have a share of the “bad” things of the leftist movement, only the good. Which is humanly impossible, to be always correct.

That’s one of the problems of leftism, that in a way pardons certain minorities and by doing that it not only lets the problematic bubbles grow but also infantilizes those minorities because it passes the message that “they can never do anything wrong”. While background matters when having an opinion, I see that skin-color goes ridiculously above opinion on these matters, which is not very egalitarian. When I argue with a person, the last thing I see is the person’s skin color. When someone says “ancient Greeks were actually a Black nation ad then they became White” I don’t care how this person looks like. No matter your skin color, you must take responsibility for the misinformation you are spreading. I won’t assume that because someone is a poc that they can’t study and learn more about the matter of discussion.

So… the “issue” doesn’t come from being white, cis, straight etc but from being raised as a US American. I don’t imply by any means that being a US American is bad. The last thing I want to do here is enforce guilt. (If you are feeling guilty already I must be mistaken in my wording so I am sorry for that). I am talking about certain beliefs that come with raised as a US American. Similarly, many beliefs a Greek can have are because of their environment. Everyone is affected by their background in one way or another. 

American leftists believe that even the piss poor British farmers benefited from colonialism – and still benefit perhaps on a systemic scale. So, with the same logic, even the lowest layers of the US American society benefit from imperialism and war crimes overseas. (Truth is the quality of living in the US is great and extremely progressive compared to most of the world, because of the US’ politics. I had analyzed this in a previous post). But American leftists never mention that when it comes to THEIR case, because it doesn’t give them an advantage.

To tie it up with how American leftists see the world, there is youtuber I like, who is a US American woc and one time she said “My country is bombing Brown people” in an annoyed tone and it just sounded so offensive I closed the video. It’s obvious the youtuber doesn’t support the bombing, but it was just the phrasing which left a bitter taste in my mouth the whole day. It was the fact that 1) she could make a statement in an annoyed/joking tone 2) people in those countries don’t identify as “Brown” outside the US (and you are talking about them now) 3) your country is indeed bombing them so maybe at least categorize them as they wish?? They have a certain ethnicity, so mention that and stop categorizing them like dog breeds! They already have the bombs, do you want them to hear Americans categorize them like that?

Moreover, many US leftists think they care about other countries while, in actuality, they don’t. They just want to make other countries have the exact progressive US politics - because that’s the only “correct” political system they know. That shows even in kind of superficial matters. In a movie about Greek mythology, they will make sure there is an American Arab, an American Black person, an American East Asian person etc (which would be a cast that would reflect American diversity, not Mediterranean) and are hesitant to cast Greeks or ask Greeks how the portrayal of the story and figures could be better and respecting.

Another thing, they take everything too personally. They think success and failure of a movement is highly dependent on them as an individual. It’s difficult for them to approach a harsh past or present situation in a levelheaded manner because they don’t realize this situation has been universal. So, they feel a special kind of guilt and that makes them over apologetic but also overzealous (like a righteous self-flogging zealot) and that is what drives people away. They combine that behavior with ignorance about the rest of the world, and you can see why a non-US American might want to keep their distance.

I had some Americans apologizing to me because their ancestors did something to Greeks and just… don’t. I know you have the best intentions, but it makes everyone – even me – feel bad. There is no need for apologizing because 1) you and your family did nothing wrong 2) it was centuries ago 3) this bad shit happens/happened literally everywhere. You might as well apologize for your people knowing how to cook. It’s FINE, really, it’s FINE. For instance, do you think I have a grudge on YOUR people running a slave trade six centuries ago while there was dozen active slavetrades in the area, and while Greeks of the Byzantine empire probably bought slaves some decades before they were sold to slavery themselves? Do you see what a mess this is? Not only it doesn’t fix anything, but you also put unnecessary weight on yourself, as an individual. It’s fine to be aware and trying to fix past mistakes - if it’s possible - but there is a certain delicate process that must be followed. Not… whatever this is.

To continue on the extreme individualism, leftists think it's the end of the world if they have done or said something controversial (and that's also because they have cultivated a culture where any small transgression is a potential danger to the whole society :p aka "the left eats itself"). Around them people feel they must tread on eggshells just in case they phrase a thing wrong or post something that could be linked to a person the Left doesn't like.

The left is also on the extremes, so I have to put 1000 disclaimers every time I say something. (I guarantee that the example with the Chinese people will be translated by some Americans like “Theitsa promotes Asian hate!!”) Do you know who doesn't annoy me if I don't put 1000 disclaimers? Certainly not Conservatives. I had more harassment from leftists than I had from actual nazis, even though my blog is not conservative or (god forbid!!) supportive of nazism or any type of supremacy. Even nazis completely understand my beliefs before they send hate. (It might be odd but I never had one not understanding my point xD) But the leftists who sent hate misinterpret stuff, or they don’t bother reading actual posts. The funny thing is that I usually agree with these progressives in 99% of issues but they don’t care asking or learning, they just decide our morals are opposite. I mean they don’t have to like me, but many leftists don’t even read the basics.

On top of that, leftists rarely want to have a conversation with a conservative. I don't say go and AGREE with a conservative, I say just talk. (see? I feel the need to clarify here because many leftists might say “Theitsa wants us to go and AGREE with conservatives! Does Theitsa want us to become nazis and homophobes???”) How does one feel they have to be sooo righteous and then cauterize every member of society who disagrees with them? Why do leftists rarely want to have a conversation? Some people were ready to attack me for referencing a meme which referenced Steven Crowder, as if that shows I am his supporter 😩 (Guilty by association is strong on the leftist side and it’s very reminiscent of authoritarian tactics, another thing that needs to be improved, to my opinion.)

I don’t support Crowder (I know Crowder has done awful stuff) but I shouldn’t be scared to admit I like the “change my mind” episodes. (Flash news, leftists, you might like a part from a person’s work and not 100% support that person!) I like the episodes because both sides are heard, the conversation is civil (for the most part xD) and I can see the thought process of the two speakers as they explain their worries and what solutions are out there.

Most of all, in those episodes I see how BOTH sides CARE about the SAME problems, it’s just the perspectives that differ. And those conversations highlight the issues the left hasn’t studied very well, so it helps the leftists understand what they need to learn in order to better society. But where the “immaturity“ of the leftist side can show is in the unwillingness to approach the “opponent“ as a human just like them.

(They might instead prefer to call Mexicans white supremacists and claim that “whiteness” has no color because quite a few poc voted Republican, as some leftist news sources have stated)

What is more, is it just my idea or conservatives understand leftists better than leftists understand conservatives? Of course both sides jokes about the other one but I am talking about the serious talks. Leftists just describe conservatives as horrible people who want all minorities to perish and we must not talk to them while, surprisingly, the conservatives are the ones who stereotype less the opposite side. (I am talking about the normal, moderate people). From what I have seen, most simple people who are conservatives DON’T want the US’ ethnic and sexual minorities to perish. They are worried about problems they don’t have a good understanding about. And the only way to make them understand it’s to… talk to them, show them what good the left to offer.

Some leftists think conversation is “emotional labor” but 1) that applies to actual labor as in… jobs, so stop invalidating doctors, nurses, teachers etc, 2) yeah, sorry, sometimes things get difficult and you have to explain your side. (As non US-Americans endlessly have to do for US-Americans). That was, is and will be life until the sun swallows us all. You can’t be THAT militant on social media with 100 posts per day and remembering 50 different campaigns about social issues but the moment someone genuinely asks you for directions on your side you shut them off with “why do you demand labor from me? Do your own research” (hint: most likely they have done their research, but they are stuck, and you don’t help them like this).

If you are very tired and don’t want to explain (as it is your right) you can be polite about it and not blame the individual about their circumstances when they are trying to learn. If you DO want to explain but you get tired, be more organized. Have posts and F.A.Q.s ready, or send them to someone else (a friend, a blog, a youtube channel, an article, whatever). Instead of leftists arguing their positions, sometimes they are like “Do more research and realize I am right.” Yyyeah the other person is not gonna do that – especially because you haven’t pointed them anywhere or supported your position with arguments. Moreover, leftists can have the attitude of “I stand for PROGRESS, how can I ever be wrong??” Weeell things are not black and white and me, you, everyone has the potential to not have a not that beneficial to society position at some issues no matter where we stand on the political compass.

For the “petty whiny children” thing, I believe a lot of people might think that because the youth is usually making noise about progressive issues on social media. It’s true that oftentimes in social media discussions their emotions get the best of them (it’s happened to everyone) but combined with the lack of life experience they may have about the world, the argument sounds silly. (I heard one leftist university student say that the US shouldn’t have borders because borders are bad but then they realized they don’t want people to come and go as they please in the US, so she said there should be SNIPERS in the borders to shot everyone who tries to get in…….)

And, as I mentioned, the leftists are very quick to cancel and attack for the slightest transgression so people prefer to deal with the conservatives who can, at least, take a slight misstep, than meddling with people who are going to cancel them for doing or not doing a small, insignificant, but not ‘woke enough’ thing. Leftists are constantly checking each other to see if they are doing better and better (even in silly issues) and that can be intimidating to someone who is new to politics.

Some leftists get REALLY turned on by righteousness (Frollo villain style) and instead of trying to unite the society, they aim to divide it further. They don’t want to create bridges but burn them and find themselves on the “right side“ of morals.

And, last but not least, they don’t realize leftist propaganda is a thing. Malicious people are EVERYWHERE and they don’t just magically avoid the left. Leftists are not automatically super virtuous people. There are some manipulators and bullies around, so one has to be cautious even with leftist sources. (Cross-examine stuff, always. You might have the best intentions but accidentally share something nonfactual because you trusted a source).

Ok that was all, I think. To anyone who comments, PLEASE keep the tones down, have a conversation, take it slow, remember it doesn’t help us being hateful towards each other. (And causing serious friction wasn’t the purpose of this post). Oh, and if you need a clarification on something I said, before gossiping with your friends about how awful I am, do me the courtesy of first asking me what I meant xD

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Pity in Short Supply (baon)

Summary:    In the aftermath of the kidnapping, Red has a few thoughts. There's a reason he's always called 'em liabilities.

Tags:  Kustard, Domestic, Established Relationship, Sans/Underfell Sans, Aftermath of a kidnapping, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus, Background Spicyhoney, A Touch of Lemon Goodness

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time the sun was thinking about hopping over the horizon and getting started on its daily workout, the warehouse parking lot was starting to clear out. All the ambulances were long since gone, the only one of ‘em with a person in the back was the guy who was still stuck in that weird foam shit.

Red didn’t believe in karma; he’d spent much too long eating shit himself for that, but if there was any lingering threads of justice still clinging stubbornly in the air, it’d take a long, painful time to get that fucker loose.

Most of the Embassy Security teams were heading back with all the evidence stacked in their backseats and Red was standing in a shadowed corner away from the streetlights watching them pack it in. Some of ‘em would start working on interviewing the kidnappers who didn’t need a few hours to cut them loose from a little chemical warfare, along with the agents the FBI shipped their way. Some were gonna work on getting shit together for the inevitable interviews with the kidnappees sometime this afternoon. Red had some pull and plenty of strings to yank, but even he wasn’t gonna be able to hold back the tide of questions much longer than that.

There was probably gonna be a fit pitched somewhere along the line that he’d sent his trouble twins home to sleep before getting much info, but Red would have to hula that hoop when it rolled in. Wasn’t only about Stretch, it was about his bro; there was only so much the boss could take before he slammed face-first into his breaking point and he’d been skating a little too fucking close tonight for Red’s taste. Better to let him take his pretty little liability home, clean him up, spend a li’l time rubbing his scent all over him again like a dog in heat and wasn’t it a damn good thing none of ‘em could piss.

The last thing any of ‘em needed was his bro snapping and hauling his honey away like a shorter, skinnier, bald version fucking King Kong.

(and was the memory of his brother's bleak face as he sat there waiting for answers while Red lied out promises about getting his liability back in one piece gonna haunt his nightmares, fuck yes, 'course it was, gotta balance those books somehow, there was always a price, he'd learned that lesson fast while he was still carrying his baby bro on the streets. always a price, fucking always)

Red wasn’t too worried about losing any info, anyway. Wasn’t much chance of Stretch forgetting much, not with that eidetic memory of his. Not being able to forget was half of his fucking problems to begin with.

Out in the mostly deserted parking lot, the last couple agents were finished packing up their car, not even seeming to give him a second glance as they climbed in. ‘Seeming’ was the real shit there, to anyone who wasn’t used to watching. The driver, a deceptively slender deer Monster, their antlers cut stylishly down, paused just long enough for their eyes to flick his way. The subtlest of looks, but that was it. They didn’t make a show of asking if Red wanted a ride, didn’t play any ego trips over spotting him, just hopped into the car and sped off.

Good instincts. Red made a mental note to keep an eye on that one. Good, not great, ‘cause they didn’t notice the one standing further back behind him, the guy who took up the best shadows before Red even showed up.

He stepped up now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he shuffled his way to stand next to Red, untied shoelaces dragging on the damp asphalt. They stood there together while the first unbearable rim of sunlight crested and took the shadows with it, bathing them in painful, golden light.

Red pulled out a cigar and bit off the end, spitting it to the ground. He lit a match with a flick of his thumb and held the tip in the wavering flame. When the end was smoldering, he flicked the match into the puddle, the faint hiss of it extinguishing unheard as he asked in a cloud of exhaled smoke, “how’s it going, sansy?”

Red was looking at the empty parking lot, the puddles dotting it like a scattering of miniature lakes across a land of broken asphalt, so he didn’t see Sans shrug, but he could feel it, a ripple in the still air around them. “went like clockwork. we planned for this sort of shit, you know, planned it out for years. worked out possible sceneries with fuzzybuns, toriel, all the diplomats.” Sans’s ever-present smile widened humorousness, “even had a few for edge and stretch, guess we shoulda brainstormed on those ones a little more. don’t know if we coulda come up with that one, though. drugging him was always a contingency, but no one guessed they’d strip his ass down and lose every damn tracker on him.” Another tight shrug, one quick. cramped motion, “we’ll know better next time.”

The plume of smoke rising from Red’s cigar curled in the air, drifting like a mist in the dawn light. Red watched it and nothing else, letting his sockets fall half-closed as he followed the wispy path with his eye lights. “ain’t asking about the fucking ops. how’s it going, sansy.”

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the rough scrape of gravel shifting under Sans’s feet as he rocked on his heels. “you know, i took up with the security department for paps,” Sans said conversationally. “wanted to keep a close eye on him when he went traipsing around the big bad world to spread the good word. back underground, that whole sentry schtick was an excuse for a paycheck, i wasn’t guarding anything but my own g and a nap.”

“yeah?” Red stuck his cigar between his teeth and bit down, tasting the scatter of soggy, bitter tobacco on his tongue as the jagged tips tore through the fragile wrapper. “that so, sweetheart?”

“yeah, that’s so, dollface,” Sans chuckled mirthlessly. “little ironic, ain’t it, that it turns out i’m good at this shit. who would’ve thought.”

“yeah, never woulda guessed a judge might not be bad at the whole diggin’ up covert info,” Red shook his head sadly, “a shock, really, that ya could put that empty skull of yers to some good use.”

“sweet talker. gonna end up sleeping downstairs with the cat you keep that shit up.”

“fuck, don’t do that,” Red shuddered. “already worried if i don’t get up fast enough to feed that bitch, she’d gnaw off my pinky toe before i wake up.”

“that picky little shit wouldn’t eat you if you rolled yourself up like sushi and slathered on caviar.” Sans hesitated, then asked, softer, “how’s stretch doing?”

“like shit.” Red didn’t bother to cushion it; his pity came sparingly and Sans could take it. “he’s got his judge all cranked up to eleven. caught a helluva glimpse of me when i got here, thought he was gonna puke on my shoes.”

Sans let out a long, ragged exhale. “that’s my fault,” he said bleakly, “i got him to hit his on switch to look for that lost kid, should’ve known he’d have a hard time shutting it down again.”

“maybe.” Red wasn’t too concerned about it. If Stretch wanted to retire and shove all that down into the dark, wasn’t any dust off his ass, but the only way he’d lose it entirely would be if someone ripped it out of him by way of a dustpan. “if those fuckers hadn’t tried to pull a limburger baby on the kid, then it woulda died back down on its own.”

This time Sans chuckle was more real, a little honest humor creeping in. “don’t let stretch hear you call him kid, he’s already got his panties twisted halfway up his spine.”

Red scoffed, tapping away the ash gathering at the tip of his cigar. “honey bun might be the same age as us, but he ain’t as old as we are. don’t matter how the universe tried to age him up.”

The sound Sans made might’ve been a hum of agreement or the juicy, hawking prelude to spitting. The sun hadn’t had a chance to chase away the evening chill and Sans’s jacket was zipped up against it. Over the tab of his zipper, nearly concealed by neckline of his hood, Red could see the glossy rim of well-oiled dark leather, the slightest glint of metal. He let himself look at it for a long moment, take a sip of dark satisfaction at seeing his collar right where it was supposed to be. Then he looked away, back across the empty, crumbling parking lot.

Sans didn’t try to touch him, only shifted his stance until their fingers brushed in a way that could pretend to be accidental, bone lightly scraping bone.

“we should get going,” Red said. The sun was climbing higher, the stars giving way to gauzy, useless clouds. At least stars were interesting, a reminder there was another Aboveground than this one, another path upward that might someday be reached. “we got a lot of shit to do downtown.”

“we do,” Sans agreed. He tipped his head in Red’s direction, slanting him a glance out of the corner of his socket. His eye lights were tinted golden by the sunrise, sly and knowing in a way that had nothing to do with magic. “want me to blow you in the stairwell before we take off?”

Red didn’t wait for him to finish, tossing his half-burned cigar into a puddle, dousing it and sending a splash of ripples through the still water. “fuck, yes.”

He followed Sans into the warehouse and in moments he was braced against the rusty handrail with his shorts around his ankles in the dust, shuddering at the feel of that hot, wet mouth around him, worshiping his cock with lovingly sinful familiarity. Every inch of his focus was taken up by that and there wasn’t room to think about a single other thing. Not even the phantom sensation of metaphorically getting flayed alive by a wild orange gaze, the unexpected, needle-sharp feel of every one of his sins digging in their spidery claws as they crawled up his spine.

He didn’t think about it at all.

-fin

[mollymauk-teafleak]

"you're in no condition to be walking around" + ThanZag

Mermaid AU!!!! Thought it was time to roll this one out, I’m just super feeling mournful Thanatos on a break from his hectic city job post nervous breakdown, out in an isolated cottage by the sea, falling in love with a mermaid Zagreus he’s been secret friends with since they were kids. 

and some Angst

Please leave a comment on Ao3 if you like this! 

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

Three days wasn’t late.

Thanatos told himself that every morning and evening, when he would pull on the largest and thickest of the sweaters his mother had knitted for him, shove his bare feet into boots and take a tin mug of coffee out onto the little jetty to wait for Zagreus. He told himself that every hour as the waves rolled in and out without so much as a ripple or a flash of a scaled tail like fire in the water. He told himself every time he had to trudge back to his lopsided cottage on the fringe of the pebbled shoreline, cold and probably soaked to the bone, to start work or to sink into fitful dreams, still with that question weighing him down inside like a ballast stone.

But three days wasn’t late. He’d been gone for longer stretches than this. His people ranged far, travelled long distances for forage and food or on sheer curiosity. Hadn’t Zagreus shown him fossils he’d rescued from deep coves or necklaces ancient with tarnish he’d scavenged from shipwrecks older than both of them, hadn’t he been widening his friend’s eyes with stories of underwater volcanoes and tropical waters warm as blood and dodging ice floes in arctic waters, since the two of them were children? Three days was nothing. Three days wasn’t late.

So why weren’t the words any comfort?

Because every other time, he told you when he was going away, Than catalogued his reasons for anxiety miserably, sitting on the end of the jetty in a misty drizzle with his eyes fixed out to sea. Because even if he was going ranging, he’d swim back at twice the speed to come and see you. He sipped his now cold coffee and tasted rainwater. Because the storms have been bad recently. He bleakly noted that it was an hour past sunset, their usual meeting time, and he should probably be going inside. Because you have a really bad feeling you just can’t shake.

Thanatos pushed a hand through his silver hair, feeling the raindrops caught in it melt and run down the inside of his wrist. He was beyond exhausted, it was a fog in his mind, but something kept him pinned to the edge of the rickety little pier, swinging his legs like he used to when he was a child. Maybe if he acted like he did back then, Zagreus would just appear with that same, bright grin on his face, as unexpected and magical as the first time.

Eventually the ache in his joints grew impossible to ignore and the damp in the seat of his jeans reached an unbearable level of discomfort. Than swallowed his disappointment and upturned the dregs of his coffee into the sea, wincing as he hauled himself back onto his feet, carefully so he didn’t slip on the slick, half rotted wood and end up tumbling into the slate grey water. He sent one last, longing look out across the waves, straining for a flash of black hair or scales like flame. When there was none, he sighed and turned back to his cottage, a smudge of shadow through the hazy rainfall.

Four days wasn’t late.

The wind was starting to pick up, promising another storm close on the heels of the one that had just broken the day before. It’s low, threatening murmur was almost loud enough that he didn’t hear the wild, desperate cry of his name. Almost.

He whirled and saw it, out where the waves were starting to roll and surge, a good few yards out from the end of the jetty. In between the rising peaks of the water, only visible when they fell away, a pale, shaking form, waving desperately. And, visible even from here, a mouth tight with pain and a pair of mismatched eyes large with panic.

Thanatos barely paused to think. Only to remember the many lessons his mother had drilled into him and his siblings when they would visit in the summer and to realise that the heavy wool jumper and the clunky boots should be pulled off and left behind. Once that was done, he was running, slipping into a smooth dive as he launched himself off the end of the jetty.

As soon as he hit the water, all of his senses went dead for a moment, only to flood back with screaming alarms of panic and pain that threatened to pull him under. But at the last moment he managed to enter that strange, eerie headspace of total calm he could summon when things seemed most dire. He sunk himself into the rhythm of his strokes, the pull of his muscles, the swell of the water around him, the burn as his head broke the surface and he dragged in as much air as he could before plunging ahead.

Thanatos had always been the strongest swimmer of his brothers and a childhood spent trying to keep up with Zagreus had only sharpened those skills. The water was a bitter, sullen force around him, wanting to draw him everywhere but where he needed to go, angry at his intrusion. But Than managed to be stronger, closing the distance between himself and his friend as quickly as he could.

Zag’s mouth was open and faint, frantic words were coming out but Than didn’t waste time listening.

“Go limp!” he called over the crash of the waves around him, slipping his arm around Zag’s chest, tipping him back so he could drag him along.

He heard an unmistakable yelp of pain from his friend and felt a wetness on his side far warmer than seawater but Zag did as he’d asked and towing him back to the shoreline was surprisingly easy, now the shock of the cold was over, now that he could feel Zag’s terrified heartbeat against his arm. Now that Thanatos could feel how much his friend needed him, it was a simple task.

The last part was mostly an ungainly dragging and hauling act as Than laid Zag down as far out of the surf as he could stand to carry his weight. Against the stones and silt and sand, he could see how deathly pale his friend was, how sharply the blood stood out against his skin from the tear in his side. It was like the colours of his tail were running in the water, leeching up

“Zagreus…” he panted, teeth starting to chatter.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zag choked out, his voice a faint echo in his throat.

Than cursed, forcing his burning muscles to keep moving, sliding his arms under Zag and managing to lift him. He wasn’t as heavy as he might have been, built lithe and sleek for a life of swimming, and he wasn’t slimy the way a younger Thanatos assumed fish would feel. But neither was he warm, the way he was supposed to be, and he had the heaviness of someone truly exhausted.

“Just stay with me,” Than ground out, carrying him the last of the cold, windy way to the cottage, “You can be as late as you bloody well please if you just keep talking...do you have enough to change?”

Zag tensed in his arms, grimacing before going limp and shaking his head, “Sorry…”

“Don’t you dare,” Than didn’t even stop, shouldering the door to his home open and just carrying him straight up the stairs to the bathroom, “Just talk. Tell me how it happened.”

Zag swallowed hard and turned his face to Than’s shoulder, clearly trying to bear the pain from the jolt of the steps, “I...I wanted to visit but the storms...and then we heard word of hunters coming into our territory…”

“Hunters?” Than frowned, kicking down the door to the poky little bathroom, “You’ve not mentioned hunters?”

“Half fishermen, half pirates,” Zag’s grip on Than’s shoulders was like iron as he laid him down in the tub, voice tense and tight, “They want our scales. Jewellery and stuff. Or else put us on display in shows. It’s death or captivity if they catch you and we heard they were in our waters. That they already had some of my people.”

Than murmured soothingly as he tried to get him comfortable, wrenching the tight, temperamental old faucets into life so water could pour down onto him, keeping him going until he could summon the strength to shift.

“Let me guess,” he sighed, “You went on a rescue mission. By yourself.”

“Not by myself,” Zag muttered sullenly, as Than moved his arm so he could properly see the gash in his side, “Father’s guards were right behind me. I just got there first.”

Than nodded, unsurprised, studying the wound. It wasn’t clean, the edges were ragged and it was deep. He’d need to stitch it shut, he realised. He could, of course, anyone in his line of work knew basic medical things like that, he’d just need to steady his hands first.

“And did you get them back? Your people?”

“I did,” Zag’s face twisted into a triumphant kind of grimace, “Just got a harpoon in the side for my trouble.”

“A harpoon? Blood and darkness, Zagreus…”

“Sent me right over the side of their damned boat,” he hissed as some of Than’s cleaning came too close, “Storm was up by then, I lost sight of everyone else and...and…”

Than looked up, curious, “Zag?”

“And I ended up with you,” his friend’s voice was faint, his eyes more distant, “I guess the currents just took me where I wanted to go.”

Than’s hands stilled, everything seeming to pause for a moment apart from the rushing of the water from the taps and Zag’s laboured breathing. But the moment passed and he set it to one side, focusing on that calm, the stillness that allowed him to do what needed to be done.

“Well...you’re here now,” he murmured soothingly, “And you’re staying here for the foreseeable. You’re in no condition to be walking around.”

Zag gave a thin laugh, flapping his red gold fins weakly, “You’re telling me.”

“I was more thinking of your oversized new gill,” Than rolled his eyes, “I’ll stitch you up, bandage it and you can shift. Then you’re sleeping for a very, very long time.”

“Aye aye,” Zag murmured, head lolling back against the rim of the tub, “Thanks, Than...and I am sorry I was late. I hope you weren’t waiting for me.”

Than exhaled softly, reaching over and brushing sodden hair back from his forehead. Already he was starting to warm, in from the cold and the wind. Warm and safe and sound.

“Not too long.”

[mydisasteracademia]

Quirk Oddities: LOV

A/N: Warning, reeeeeeeeeally long post under the cut lol yeet

Gotou Imasuji/Muscular:

You have NO IDEA how happy I am that we F I N A L L Y know this man’s name,, anyway

Due to his Quirk having to do with his muscles (and obviously, augmentation of said muscles), he’s constantly in danger of muscular dystrophy if he doesn’t exercise them enough, even when not tapping into that muscular form.

Also feeds into his ‘blood knight’ behavior -- his eternal battle to fight stronger and stronger people and his own fight code matches with his Quirk, which gives him a stronger and stronger physique. He’s literally always itching for a fight.

Needs to eat a lot more than your average person, more on par with someone like Fatgum. Eats a ton of proteins and has a relatively healthy diet compared to a lot of other people. He’s very strict about what he eats so that he can get the maximum amount of energy for his muscled-up form.

Mustard:

His Quirk makes him more quiet and chill than most of the League; due to its somnolent properties (and due to the fact that he likely accidentally exposed himself to it far too often when he was younger), he reserves his energy for when he truly needs it.

As a negative side-effect, however, he suffers from chronic insomnia, which is mostly to blame for his irritability and (relatively) fragile mental state (not ‘fragile’ as in ‘literally an inch away from snapping’, but moreso ‘this close to mania at all times’.)

Drinks a lot of tea to try and calm himself down in the evenings. Lavender and chamomile are his teas of choice. On the flip side, tends to drink energizing drinks during the day so that he has enough energy to function.

Really prone to emotional lows. If he’s not careful, he can fall into depression and can get anxious very easily.

Moonfish:

Eats a ton of meats. Just... raw meats. All the time. He’s incredibly unhealthy. The bloodier the meat, the better. Will not eat anything cooked more than medium.

Will try to bite your arm off if you try to take food away from him. Actually, probably just tries to bite your arm off regardless. Don’t feed him unless you have a Quirk to subdue him in like 0.58 seconds.

Has to keep his teeth in pristine condition so that they don’t... accidentally break off when he’s trying to attack someone. Spends an obsessive amount of time brushing every morning and night. It’s one of the only times you will ever see this man even close to sanity, ironically.

Kenji Hikiishi/Magne:

Used to have to be cautious with using her Quirk when she was younger. Due to her inability to wield it correctly, she ended up magnetizing everything within a 2.5 meter radius. Eventually, she learnt to control it, but this caused some upsets when she was in school and people learned to avoid her if they didn’t want to get thrown like a ragdoll.

Very attracted to people. Not in a sexual way, but she loves socializing and can often wander near groups of people without realizing at first.

This isn’t an oddity with her body, per se, but she used to constantly be careful about magnets getting stuck to her giant magnet. It’s a pain to pluck them all off, so she eventually just started wrapping it, which negated some of its effects on anything close by.

It’s honestly good that her Quirk doesn’t work on herself, for many obvious reasons. When she was a young child in the first years after it manifested, she always questioned it. Now she’s incredibly glad it doesn’t, considering how much havoc she could wreck on other people. Instead she’s more in-tune with it, in a sense. She can tell apart red and blue ‘magnets’ very easily due to that.

Kurogiri:

Y’all don’t know how tempted I was to put Oboro’s name in there lmao

Constantly has a dark aura around himself that looks like a thin fog. I know, that’s canon, but unlike his actual fog created around his neck, this stays around his actual body shape so that even if the collar is gone and he can’t form more fog, the aura would be there enough to obscure some of his more defining features.

Due to him being a literal reanimated corpse, the reason his eyes are glowing and yellow is due to being reanimated. That, and yellow looks cool as hell with black and purple, amirite?

Prefers totally dark rooms. If he’s by himself just chilling after a long, hard day of being a babysitter to about 6-9 societal outcasts, he’s sitting or lying down, eyes closed, with all of the lights off, just basking in it.

Adding to that last point, enjoys misty, foggy days. He doesn’t so much enjoy rain as much as he does the general vibe of a fog-dense area. Really feels at home in it.

His sense of pain is highly muted, and his body is incredibly cold to the touch. I mean, he’s literally a reanimated corpse. It takes a lot of force for him to actually feel anything, and this goes for non-pain sensations too. Often loses feeling in his hands and feet and they feel like wisps of mist.

??? Shigaraki/All For One

Due to his Quirk’s innate nature of taking and giving, he’s a huge kleptomaniac. He just can’t resist swiping things (and maybe giving them back later).

He’s drawn to studying Quirks. Like a certain someone else we know, he’s obsessed with hashing out the more intimate details of a person’s power, and then he can truly decide whether or not he’s taking it.

His body is more naturally suited for taking on more than one Quirk at a time, but without his life-support system he would be royally fucked. Many of his Quirks require a lot of energy and his body is just too weak in its current state with all of his injuries to sustain them all. I know, he’s still incredibly powerful, but he’s considered ‘weak’ right now. Imagine him at his peak. How many Quirks did he have? 50? 100? More?

Adding onto his kleptomania, this applies to people too. He’s incredibly possessive of people he deems worthy of his time (his brother and Tomura being two notable examples) and will do whatever it takes to keep them at his side in the name of ‘keeping them safe’. If he had a family somewhere and he found out about them, you bet your ass he would go full yandere on them, but isn’t hesitant to lay the emotional/mental manipulation on thick.

Tomura Shigaraki:

As I’ve stated a few times before, due to his Quirk, Tomura’s body is constantly destroying itself, from within and outside. His skin is the outward reflection of it; after being found by AFO he was weak and easily sick due to his immune system not fully ready to handle the destructive properties of Decay.

Sometimes he’ll choke on debris from his own mouth and throat, as I’ve stated before. Very prone to ulcers and muscular dystrophy, so he has to be careful to exercise just enough that he staves off his body totally shutting down.

Has to be incredibly careful with his diet, because the wrong foods could damage his body more than before. CAN NOT HAVE SPICY/HOT FOODS. His taste buds have already been damaged enough due to forays into it before, and he can’t afford to sustain even more damage to his throat.

Has to drink a ton of water, not just to flush down debris in his throat but because he’s very prone to having a dry mouth. Part of the reason his voice (well, English Dub voice anyway) is so raspy is because his throat is constantly dry. If he doesn’t have enough water, he’s prone to bad coughing fits.

His nails are actually quite brittle, and when he scratches his neck he has to be careful not to break them. His lips get chapped easily and will split and bleed unless he lays on some ointment.

AND SPEAKING OF OINTMENT! I know the jokes about him needing moisturizer/Chapstick are hilarious, but Tomura has extremely sensitive skin and can not put on anything that has perfumes of any kind in them, otherwise it triggers a severe reaction and it takes him a while to heal. There’s a specific brand of ointment that he and Dabi use, and like the flame user he has to be constantly reapplying it during the day, otherwise his skin dries out even more.

He’s drawn to death/destruction, much like Toga is fascinated by blood and death (and birds). Much of the time, he causes said death/destruction. It’s so morbidly fascinating to him and it fills him with a weird sense of pride or calm.

Prefers humid conditions. If it’s more arid, he suffers. Can’t go out in the sun too much, because he burns very easily (more than Dabi, surprisingly). He likes lukewarm, cloudy weather, and especially autumn (can you guess why?).

Can’t do alcohol. Not just that he legally can’t drink (I doubt he’d give a damn about that), but consuming too much would further damage his body and he can’t afford to do anything too reckless.

Himiko Toga:

Her Quirk makes it so that she’s prone to anemia much easier than a normal person. She needs to keep her iron levels up, especially as a teenage girl, so she usually goes for more iron-rich foods (and especially meats). Give her a blood bag and she’ll drink it like a Capri-Sun.

Normally, a person can’t ingest much blood through their digestive system, otherwise they get sick. Himiko doesn’t have much of a problem, thankfully, but she still has to be careful not to drink too much otherwise she does feel nauseated (kind of like eating too much food will leave you full and vaguely sick).

Like Tomura, she’s fascinated with death, but to a more obsessive degree (given that we’ve seen her literally eat a dead bird before). Unlike him, she actively seeks it out, and most often creates death herself.

Jin Bubaigawara/Twice:

Oh boy, what else is there to say that hasn’t already been revealed in canon? I’ll try my best to go with headcanon here, but Twice is a complicated person to speculate about given that we’ve seen most of everything there is to know.

His body constantly feels like it’s about to split apart. It’s not much of a painful feeling as it is an odd sensation. He’s constantly aware of it and it does a toll on his overall mental state Every time he does create clones, the feeling briefly intensifies, and he finds it very hard not to keep splitting.

Needs the suit to feel like he’s ‘contained’ himself, if that makes sense. Like, he’s less likely to physically split in half if he’s wearing it. That, and of course, needs the suit to keep his crumbling mental state in check.

Atsuhiro Sako/Mr. Compress:

Much like AFO, he’s a compulsive kleptomaniac, especially for expensive/shinier things. He just can’t help but swipe things up, but if the other members ask for it back, he’s generally good about handing it over.

Sometimes is filled with a lot of nervous energy that manifests itself in fidgeting with his marbles. In those periods of time, he feels even stronger compulsions to steal and they mostly go away when he does.

Shuichi Iguchi/Spinner:

There’s so much to put here. Mainly gecko-related things.

As I’ve stated before, he thrives in hot, humid weather. Loves chilling on sun-warmed rocks the best. SUFFERS in the cold.

It’s a legitimate struggle not to eat worms or bugs whenever he sees a juicy one. When he was a kid, he just ate them whenever, but after being bullied for this compulsion, he tried to stop and eventually just hid it from others.

Sometimes when startled, he might make a chirping noise, much to his irritation. If any other gecko-type people are around, they might chirp back.

Sheds a few times a year on a fairly regular schedule. Gets really uncomfortable and itchy for a bit and gets irritated more easily as he sheds. Once it’s over, his mood gets back to normal.

Enjoys dark places to just hide in sometimes. If you can’t find him, maybe you’ll be able to find him in a dark crevice or a hidden nook or cranny. He feels a degree of safety in spots like this.

As we’ve already seen, he can stick to walls. I don’t know why, but that just makes me happy for some reason.

Touya Todoroki/Dabi:

Hoo boy. This one is a doozy.

Despite his Quirk, his body is more suited to cold temperatures, as seen in canon. This means he greatly prefers cold conditions and suffers in heat. He’s one of the only ones of the League who can be out in winter weather without bundling up.

Burns extremely easily, especially when it comes to consuming hot/spicy things. If you’ve ever burnt your tongue on a hot drink, that happens to him at least 70% of the time, but not just his tongue. His entire throat gets burnt, and it takes a while to recover.

His skin is incredibly sensitive to temperature, and whenever he uses his Quirk too much he burns more and more of it. But due to the large amount of his body that’s burnt and scarred, a lot of his sweat glands don’t work properly, and this can overheat him even more. He constantly has to be careful about his internal temperature and often carries a thermos of something cold to help himself cool down. He needs to take colder showers otherwise his wounds get aggravated. It just soaks up the moisture and he’s more prone to bleeds.

As I’ve hc’ed before, Dabi needs eyedrops. Due to his tearducts being damaged enough so that he can’t cry tears (as he’s stated himself), much like Aizawa, his eyes get dry and irritated way too easily. He constantly has to be reapplying eyedrops to keep his eyes moist and try to heal some of the damage already done. If he goes for too long without them, he’s prone to bleeding, and witnessing this man literally cry blood is viscerally disturbing.

His staples can get easily irritated and due to his fire they stay hot for longer. If he’s not careful when dealing with them, he’s liable to get burnt worse just from the metal. If he’s too rough, they will start bleeding and he’ll have to disinfect his wounds yet again.

The purple parts of his body? Third-degree burns. He can’t feel a damn thing. Doesn’t mean he can’t rip and tear, but he’s likely not gonna feel it. He’s had to throw away a lot of shirts because the bloodstains were just too hard to get out.

Prefers drinking things to eating things whenever his jaw is sore from his wounds. While he was first healing as a teenager, all he did was drink things until he could reliably work his jaw again. Cold brew and ice-blended coffees are his drink of choice.

Gets sick really easily. Ever since he was a young child, he’s been more susceptible to ailments like the flu and needs to constantly keep up his health. His body is weaker than it should be, and that frustrates him a lot. As he’s stated in canon himself, he can be easily motion-sick.

[sourbat]

For that writing meme: Melm/Mags "first confession of kink"? (it would be kind of funny if it was something pretty tame, but i'll leave it up to your choice! whatever would be most fun to write)

I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t have them openly confess to the kink (though it’s pretty obvious). 

Rating: M for blood and suggestive imagery 

Melmord woke to another promising day underground, hundreds of feet deep within Mordhaus’ flaming hearth. Clothes ironed and waiting for him, and a file containing the weekly agenda already resting in front of his bedroom door, Melmord could always be certain that his omnipresent savior and master was looking out for him, ensuring that no moment was without some purpose, no matter how menial. As he made his way down the long halls, Melmord opened the file. A quick glance at the list of upcoming meetings and destinations ahead suggested a deepening level of trust, if not tolerance of his meager existence. He’d be leaving his underground schloss this week, though not without supervision. Another peruse through the file gave way to the name of his newly appointed overseer, and Melmord smiled.

Another week under Magnus’ watchful eye. It was news worth celebrating over, though Melmord was careful not to give way to expressions, lest the wrong klokateer notice across the screen. Can’t let the big man upstairs know how relieving it is to be working with someone who didn’t try killing him. To be working with a musician again, no matter how “retired” he may be. Someone who, despite the rough edges, had the decency to acknowledge the shreds of humanity that still existed within his ragdoll form.

A fellow prisoner. 

He closed the file and his mouth shut before taking a sharp left, going deeper into the dragon’s pit, towards Magnus’ quarters.

Still new to this section of Mordhaus, Melmord was careful to memorize his steps. He knew he was on the right track when he couldn’t locate any obvious camera glued on his movement, either hidden or outright barred for Magnus’ sake (Note to self: ask Magnus what’s the deal?) Eventually, Melmord stumbled upon a bathroom door, slightly ajar, welcoming him to the amusing sight of Magnus cupping his chin, long goatee tucked into the palm of his hand as he brought a razor to his chin.

“That time of the week?” Melmord remarked, coming to a halt once the older man detected his presence. He leaned against the frame, pushing the door the rest of the way, revealing Magnus in just his jeans. Truth be told, it was a rather nice sight, and Magnus not immediately pushing him away and shutting the door asserted that things between them were still on the incline.

“You’re awake,” Magnus stated, dragging the razor down his cheek.

“Careful,” Melmord added, raising a finger at a small patch of untrimmed facial hair just under the man’s jaw. “You missed a spot.” 

Magnus winced at the finger pointed at him. “Thank you,” he murmured, meeting Melmord’s stare with his grim reflection.

“No prob,” Melmord replied, reading the room and concluding it was still too early for shenanigans. Though Melmord could summon up a smile at later hours, a laugh after a few drinks, a few wandering fingers after a huff of something good, getting anything from Magnus pre-breakfast was like squeezing blood from a beet. Or rock… how did that saying go again?

Melmord tried not to let the silence that followed get to him, but after a solid minute of watching a blade cut through thick hairs, gave in and ignored the obvious signs and asked, “So, you get this week’s memo?” 

“Yes, but I’ve not read,” Magnus answered plainly, eyes still on uneven trim.

“We’re working together again.” 

“Yes, just as I requested.”

“And it actually happened.” Melmord excitedly fiddled with his watch. “Not sure how you did it, man. I’ve been working under Offdensen for well over a year and barely got promoted out of custodial duty. You’re here for a few months, and suddenly we’re–ah, something wrong?”

The razor was pressed over the stubble, just above Magnus’ lengthy beard, but had ceased all progress. His reflection harbored the late stages of tolerance, now shifting to annoyance.   

“I’d prefer no distractions,” Magnus said, voice low and frigid, as though it took some effort on Magnus’ part to keep from yelling at him. “That is, not at this hour.”

The last second add on barely eased the blow to Melmord’s esteem. Alright, the guy wasn’t a morning person.

“I mean,” Melmord began, admittedly caught off-guard by the subtle accusation. His natural inclination was to make a joke of it, berate himself if it meant a speedy getaway. “Is that your way of saying you can’t handle my dashing good looks, or­–”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “What I’m saying is you–ow!”

Blood oozed from the fine, diagonal cut now adorning Magnus’ face. A small, inflamed cut dripping with vibrant red blood, catching Melmord’s attention quicker than the hiss emitting from Magnus’ clenched teeth.

“Shit,” Melmord said, eyes drawn to a fat droplet already seeping into the beginning of Magnus’ beard. “Here, let me…” 

“No, I’m good.”

“You’re bleeding.”

The action was without thought. Right as Magnus tossed his razor into the sink, Melmord stepped forward, thumb pressed over the cut to stop any further bleeding. Magnus made a slight complaint, another gruff noise to suggest his discomfort, but it vanished under the heated pulse that hummed a constant beat under Melmord’s thumb. Underneath, he felt the warm blood trickle, and as it threatened to pour into Magnus’ peppered roots, reminded Melmord of the single red flash, then darkness that once haunted him. Blood ran further, and as he watched Magnus’ eyes land on him, Melmord saw the blood once more, only this time it lacked the nauseous suggestions, and instead, invited Melmord with its heavy scent.

Another act performed, and Melmord lifted his thumb from Magnus. Not looking away from the man, he brought his thumb to his lips and, unthinking, lapped it up with his tongue. Sweet iron flavored his mouth, leaving behind traces of a man he was still figuring out, and Melmord pursed his lips round it all, sucking and harvesting sweet memories of another life.  

“That was…”

Melmord caught Magnus starting at him with that look. The “holy shit, dude, really” look. The “you’re into that, huh” judgmental stare. Melmord knew it well enough, had made it himself on a rare occasion; however, it was the first time he’d seen Magnus make it, and it was aimed directly at him.

Now, suddenly aware of his surroundings, Melmord brought his hand down to his side, tucking his stained thumb into a fist.

“Bad habit of mine,” Melmord said, stopping Magnus from finishing his thoughts. “Used to, uh, cut myself when I was starting out.” He pointed at the messy scruff lining his face. “That cutting. Not the bad kind. But, uh, I guess I got used to the taste of blood, haha. Didn’t think I’d…well, you know, bro?” 

With the same hand, Melmord combed through his heavy locks, and laughed. Magnus flinched back, left eye wincing as his chin drew upwards, releasing a new line of blood that only served to make Melmord more aware of the discomforting situation.  

“Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” he said, eyes caught between Magnus’ deepening frown, at the blood now decorating his tangled beard. Still, as nice Magnus looked in red, Melmord wasn’t going to risk going any further, and stepped out of the bathroom. “See you at the breakfast table,” he said, back facing the older man. “Or, later. Whenever, really. I ain’t in any hurry.”

It was hardly a save, but by this point, Melmord was more invested in vanishing from existence than he was in saving face.

Licking up his supervisor’s blood? And right after Magnus told him he wasn’t in any mood?

Well, this was going to be the start of a rather…interesting week.  

“Ow.” 

Melmord halted, eye flickering at the low voice that pierced the hall. Hesitant, he glanced over his shoulder, looking past greasy locks and finding the bathroom door fully opened, and Magnus standing at the edge, just under the frame. Blood ran down his chin, into his beard, and just like before, Melmord was drawn to how well it complemented Magnus peppered locks and sharp features. But it was the patter of blood dripping from his hand that had Melmord about-facing. The razor, now clenched in Magnus’ hand, dribbled with blood. Melmord watched, awestruck, as Magnus released his grip, letting it fall and hit the floor. He brought his hand up and stared, eyes yielding little information as he turned his palm towards Melmord. 

Melmord swallowed at the sight of blood now decorating Magnus’ hand, along with the knowledge that, of the few rooms that were guaranteed no monitoring, the washrooms were one of them.

From the tip of Magnus’ beard, a single droplet gathered, filled and snapped off, dropping and splattering over the top of Magnus’ foot.  

With his impression already made, Melmord had little trouble dropping to his knees once the bathroom door was closed. 

A very interesting week indeed.

[popculturebuffet]

Final Space: And Into The Fire Review or Now with 110% More Homoerotic Telepathy

Welcome  new and old to my first Final Space review! If you’ve never seen the blog before, and given this is the first “new” series i’ve covered as it come out in some time that’s probably quite a few of you, welcome. I’m Jake, I do recaps and reviews of various animated shows and comics, mostly just stuff I want to do, often on comission (5 dollars an episode if theres any episode of the first two seasons of this show or any episode of any other show you’d like tos ee me cover), or for my patreon patreon.com/popculturebuffet. And it is my utmost honor to add this show to my rotating roster of shows I cover as they come out. 

I friggin love Final Space. I was intrigued by it back when TBS released the animatics alongside Close Enough (Wth the two shows ironically finally together on HBO max as of earlier this month), for their doomed block. I heard a lot of good things about season 1.. and let it get away from me, not watching it till Season 2. But both seasons had more than enough to pull me in with intriguging characters, even greater jokes and a truly unique idea for a premise involving giant monsters, an edltrich god and lots of cookies. 

So while it took an extra year given Covid, I’m super friggin pumped to get into season 3 at long last after the hell of a cliffhanger, especially since ironically last night I saw Steven Yeun’s oscar nominated performance in “Minari”. Now i get to watch him play a cat teenager again too.. and in a few days Mark friggin Grayson. It’s a good week to be a fan of his is what i’m saying and a good week in general. 

Previously on Final Space Yo!: Since it’s been a year and while the series provides  a recap , I’m going to be doing these anyway so:

Our heroes finally got all 5 dimensional keys and freed Bolo, and in the process also freed Avacato from Invictus, the horrifying entity controlling final space. Meanwhile Tribore got Sheryl to stop being a selfish prick and she joined the team trying to be a better mother from now on. But freeing Bolo came at a high cost as Nightfall sacrified herself as the sixth key (KVN was natrually both Gary and Bolo’s first choice, but was inllegible. ) So we ended the season with our heroes entering Final Space and Gary reuniting with Quinn.... while Invictus loomed. So over a year later we finally get some answers so join me under the cut for spoilers, recaps, and homoerotic text ahoy. 

Something i’m doing since both the roster keeps changing.. and as I correctly guessed from the trailer, and the general tone of the promos for this season, that everyone won’t be all together all season.. or even in one piece.. i’ll be doing a silver age style roll call to let us know who all we have on the Team Squad for the episode Roll Call: Gary, Quinn, Avacato, Little Cato, Ash, Fox, KVN, HUE, AVA, Sheryl, Bolo, and Tribore

So we pick up right where we left off, Gary tearfully reuniting with Quinn, with Quinn wishing he hadn’t come for her, and Gary being Gary naturally having ignored that, and actually been more determined since that made it forbidden which made it extra tempting and him want to extra do it. God I missed this glorious idiot let me tell you. 

So things are quickly interrupted by invictus, who turns out to be a giant flaming head.. thing... and chases them and the crimson light, which has to start speeding with our heroes tethered to the outside, Quinn holding onto Gary. 

So we get one hell of a thrilling chase as the Crimson Light outspeeds the demon head and runs into two titans, but Bolo shows up to take out one, with Mooncake trying his dimension shattering blast thingy on Invictus.. and naturlaly g ven this is the big bad we need to show off how horrying they are, and it does NOTHING. But Gary catches his little buddy so we’re alright. 

Sheryl also shows off her badass bonafieds by LIGHTFOLDING THROUGH A TITAN... granted she still has some parenting skills to learn as “lightfolding while your son is hanging out the back through an edltrich god” really isn’t a motherly thing to do.. but neither is trying to murder your child several times or blaming him for how shitty your life turned out so ANYTHING is a step up for her. 

But.. it’s not enough. While she does manage to kill ONE the Crimson Light is too badly damaged to go on and we get two tragic deaths in one go... The Team Squad is forced to abandon the Crimson Light.. and AVA is too damaged to Upload into HUE. “I’m Sad” “For who?” “For you.. and for us. “ God damn Tom Kenny is amazing. You don’t need me telling you that, but sometimes you need a reminder. 

So our heroes end up on a desolate mystery world, stranded in final space with no ship, no suplies and no hope. The only thing to do now is survivie and hope they can continue the mission at some point. 

ONE MONTH LATER

Things have not gotten any better, as naturally , our heroes have only found weird cartoon eyed worms that regrow their heads when you bite them off. So while this means unlimited food, it’s also disgusting and Garry hates it. “This may be a head but it tastes like a butt”. Quinn and Tribore are with him and Quinn hasn’t been ready to talk about her experiences trapped in this hellscape and still isn’t but being a good dude, Gary dosen’t push her on it. Though the weird red veiny thing on her arm tells me maybe one of you should speed that up before she explodes or gets cronnenburgy. Just saying. I’ll also say i’m not huge on the one month time skip, as while I feel they probably have a reason for being that specific i’ts a bit TOO long and I question why have that long a period of a jump, not the longest but still long enough for things to happen with nothing changingin that time? Still it’s a minor nitpick in an otherwise fantastic episode so I can let it go, I just don’t get it. 

What we do get is some Gary Corpses dropping and Invictius puppeting them... i’m with gary that is bowel openingly scary. I also do like how despite the FAR more dire circumstances, they still get in the requisite shenanigans this series requires. I’ts not to the network mandated subplot levels where it distracts, but it’s enough to help ease the terror of the situation and isn’t around for situations like the opening where it really SHOULDN’T be. As the series always has when something big happens, the bollocks goes away. Once we’re in between we can get back to literal pissing contests, KVN leading a crowd to their deaths and HUE in a pimp hat like god intended. 

So yeah our heroes have to outrun the horrible horde of Gary’s, though Little Cato catches on something’s wrong as Tribore makes gary cary him as foreshadowing for later and Sends mooncake down to asssit. Our heroes escape.. but a cave in happens.

After the break, Gary wakes up confused with the party now split in two: Gary, Quinn, KVN, Tribore and HUE on one side and Avacato, Ash, Fox, Little Cato and Sheryl on the other. So Gary does the logical thing... and take his shirt off telling Avacato to feel him. 

I mean I didn’t even ship them before this scene but... Gary claims because of their bond he can telepahtically connect with Avacato. That’s normal Gary shenanigans.. except not only does he shrug off his girlfriend asking why they can’t do that.. but it WORKS. We have a scene of the two telepahtically talking in a wheatfield that is so homerotic I guarantee there only wasn’t the Careless Whisper sax because they couldn’t afford it.. or their saving it for later this season. Look sometimes you don’t ship a ship because you just.. dont’ care that strongly one way or another and sometimes you just need an incredibly gay scene to see the light. Same thing happened with Weblena same thing here. 

Fox also says “that was glorious to watch” same man. That was freaking art. So our heroes split up into three plots. As usual for me

Team Gary: So yeah... Triobore’s pregnant. No way to really softball into that. He’s been pregnant this whole time. So we get a stupid and mildly horrifying gross out sequence with Gary having to look Triobore in teh eyes and Quinn having to “uncork him”. Which is code for ... you know what i’m not going to say it. If you’ve seen the episode you know and if not your better off not visualizing it trust me. Point is this whole sequence is dumb and the worst part of the episode by far. And the series CAN do good gross out. While Olan Rodgers regrets it, the pissing contest was one of the funniest scenes of season 2, and managed to make a gross idea on paper actually pretty damn funny. This.. this is just “Haha males giving birth and tribore’s an asshole”. There’s no joke here just a .. plug. .. gah.. the vomit is rising let me tell you. 

We do get something good out of this nightmare, Tribore’s son who hatches as the army of gary’s dig their way in, Quanstranstro, who rapidly ages into a stylsih spanish speaking adult badass. He is fucking awesome and a great addition to the team and the sheer.. oddity of his birth is wonderful even if the actual birthing was not. Then the climax happens so before that. 

Team Avacato:

Avacato and Co come across a sleeping giant robot cyborg .. thingy. Naturally Fox wakes him up. Little Cato remains not suprised. It occelates between panicking over it’s legs being gone and amenisa and is pretty damn funny. It’s voiced by John Dimagio. But it gets serious as we find out nothing has ever made it out of final space, and things.. change the longer there there. And Quinn’s been there several months if not a year. Whuh oh. This part is much better both due to better jokes and plot advancment.. though again Quanstrano is still fucking amazing. 

Team Bolo: Bolo meanwhile returns and fights a titan, and has mooncake help him rather htan join the others, but looses, hitting the planet with his body.. I mean he might not get back up.. but the impact shatters the caverns and causes an explosion. Everyone but Gary, Quinn, KVN and HUE are MIA, as our remaining party find earth floating overhead. 

TO BE CONTINUED> 

Final Thoughts: A decent start to the season. Like I said the whole birthing sequence can die in a fire and reminds me of the terrible comedy subplots adult swim wanted grafted onto two episodes.. but otherwise it’s a tense stark opener that sets up the bleak tone while still keeping the series rediciulous shenanigans in tact. It’s the perfect welcome back after so long. I mean the gay telepathy alone would make it a winner. 

Next Time on This Blog: We dive into a little history with HIsteria. See you at the next rainbow. 

[yichens]

for the character ask...OUR FAV BOY LIU SANG

(*´∇｀*)/💖

i had to come answer this one bc!! my son!!!! aaaaaaahhhh!!!!!! so thank you sob now i can talk about my second sour grape boy,,, wait. ok well, hissy kitten  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  spot the difference (you can’t)

give me a character

(placing this one under a cut too bc oh boy. i have things to say about liu sang)

How I feel about this character

Good lord. I feel so many ways about Liu Sang. He is absolutely amazing but he also just drives me insane every day. No other character has ever given me such headaches, he must be proud. Finally someone suffers as much as him (because I bet those ears cause him a permanent migraine). I feel sorry for him. I’ll take this pain gladly if it helps him in any way. 

But well. As simply as with Jiang Cheng, I do love Liu Sang. I shouldn’t really be surprised (at this point) that I fell in love with him but back when I was watching Reboot, he hit me like a truck. Which,,, he probably drove that truck himself, judging from the way he was handling the car chase with Jiang Zisuan. Just ruthlessly drove me over. I never stood a chance, not in front of that arrogance and stubbornness and enormous puppy eyes. 

And with all of himself, good and bad, he makes me feel so many things. One of those, probably the strongest one, is protectiveness. He needs someone to protect him from himself because he has a nasty self-destruction streak going. Boy has not known love since he was born. He has gone through way too much to try handle it alone. I can’t even remember how old he is supposed to be in Reboot (maybe 29?), but that is way too many years of fighting a battle he was never supposed to win. But he pulled through. Cynical and prickly and absolutely terrified of any human contact but he fucking pulled through. I want to fight some battles for him now. He deserves to rest. He deserves some peace and quiet and unconditional care. I want to tell him that he doesn’t deserve all the pain he’s going through, all the pain he himself is putting his body through because he thinks he can only be used as a punching bag. I want to tell him he deserves friends. I want to tell him that it’s okay to trust people again. I want to... just protect him. And maybe this is why – because of all this fragile mess I’ve discovered from inside of him while trying to figure out who he is – I struggle so much with writing him. I feel like I’m bringing up things no one is supposed to see. I feel like I’m pulling out words from him like teeth. But at the same time, I know he’s desperate to tell these things. 

So I struggle because I love him. Willingly. But oh boy does he annoy me sometimes, under all that protectiveness and fondness I have for him.  

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I am quite sure at this point that I don’t really ship Liu Sang with anyone. No one clicks with him in my head so well that I could feel myself slipping into the proper shipping territory. But I haven’t minded any of the ships I’ve seen for him, not Pingxiesang (which makes me super soft) or him with Kanjian (which is so sweet) or even @kholran’s pool noodle Risang (which is very interesting and I will read your fic, friend, when I am out of my Pingxie pit! I just need to feed these beasts first). I am mostly just very intrigued by all these ships people come up with because it really plays to my wish to just explore his dynamic with every other character that is available for him. 

But to put it simply: Not one perfect match exists for him yet in my head. Let’s give boy some time to figure out freindships first. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Well, this one I love because! This is what he is all about for me, somehow. So I will mention three: Xiaoge, Bai Haotian, and Pangzi. 

First, like I already mentioned in my Xiaoge answer, I adore Liu Sang’s dynamic with his ouxiang. They are both so damn awkward. I feel like I’m following a train wreck happening in slow motion any time I see them interact but instead of death and flames and screeching metal, it’s. surprisingly soft and sweet? They are both very tentative when it comes to people so they somehow get each other? Even if Liu Sang is a mess when it comes to Xiaoge which I totally get because I have once in my life met a person I consider a celebrity and who I look up to a lot and I was just shaking. And giggling. And acting dumbly. So I don’t blame Liu Sang for any of that; I’m actually quite proud that he’s keeping his cool so well and despite the rough start, manages to be a huge asset to his ouxiang. I am so happy that he gets to have this budding friendship with Xiaoge because they both need it.

Then! Bai Haotian. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately and the more I rewatch some of their scenes together, the more I notice that they really develop a bond during Reboot. They are in a very similar position: brought in because of their idols, young, sometimes overlooked, struggling, and usually falling behind. And oh, definitely in need of some saving and with tragic backstories. They could be such amazing friends, and I think they come to trust and care for each other during their trip to Thunder City. Bai Haotian is so caring by nature and then Liu Sang is just right there. And Bai Haotian is so lowkey about her care; she doesn’t push if people don’t want her to, which works so well for Liu Sang. She’s there when needed. She doesn’t ask too much. She knows how it feels to look up to one of the members of the Iron Triangle and then curl your own life around them. (She also knows how it feels to have a crush on that same member and then notice that crush will never lead you anywhere, though I guess Bai Haotian comes to realize that during their trip instead of years before but well, details.) She doesn’t judge Liu Sang and somehow Liu Sang comes to rely on her a lot. 

And last but not least (never the least!): Pangzi. God I adore these two to bits. Their banter is just *chef’s kiss* and when I look at them, all I can think about is a big dog trying to pat a hissing kitten with its paw. Which then turns to the kitten play fighting the dog’s big paw. And then getting tired. And falling asleep. While the huge dog just curls its body around the kitten to keep it warm, and maybe the kitten swats at the dog slightly for show but actually it enjoys it. Because it’s nice and soft and very warm. So yes, I love it how Pangzi and Liu Sang start off as enemies but come to care for each other. I cry about the peanut scene every day. Yes please adopt this poor stray kitten, he deserves a loving home ;; Give him food and a blanket and maybe he will hiss a little less (Pangzi also gives great hugs and Liu Sang deserves a dozen. For starters.) 

My unpopular opinion about this character

Once again I am at a loss with this. I don’t really know what this fandom thinks about Liu Sang? I feel like our tiny Liu Sang hyping corner here on tumblr is very much unified with the opinions. We all love him a lot and want the best for him, case closed. So maybe I’ll just talk about my hypersensitivity headcanon for him? Let me do that for fun haha

So, I know he’s sensitive to sounds. Understandable, with his skills. And I feel bad for him for that because it must be horrible at times (we get introduced to him through him vomiting because he can’t handle a train station with all the noise, christ) but I also somehow relate to that. I get sensitive to sounds sometimes too. A simple click of my mouse can be annoying at times. I require absolute silence quite often, and this intensifies if my emotions are on the negative side. So, somehow I’m taking things from that. Touch hurts when he’s feeling bad about himself. Noises annoy him when he’s angry or scared. Lights look too bright or he feels like he can’t focus his gaze when he’s sad or panicking. Smells and tastes are intensified when he’s stressed. I dunno, just simple little things. Him feeling through his senses. Him just generally being sensitive with his feelings because this world is a demanding place and pushes you into feeling things. And I feel like a lot about him is already tied to his hearing so why not his feelings too? I’ve read so many nice takes on him which somehow support this so I feel like this just fits right in. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

Liu Sang joins the final celebration!! Him just disappearing doesn’t make sense at all!!!! Let him get hugs!!! Let him be happy!!!! Oh my god. I was so mad about that and still am because no way did he just leave and not join his new friends for this final evening!!! Dammit. No matter how much he feels like he doesn’t belong and like he’s just “a hired talent” among them, he’s not that dull!! He got those damn peanuts and some hugs and shoulder pats from people, he was there saving the day, he managed to create bonds!!! And god, knowing Wu Xie, he would never allow Liu Sang to think that lowly of himself!!!! He would be there to offer Liu Sang the world if he wants it!! Gaaaahhhh

So yeah, give Liu Sang his moment with his new family or I am throwing something, for fuck’s sakes

thank you again for sending me these asks ♥ i’ll answer the rest during these next few days! you’re amazing!!

[twokinkybeans]

Company Chapter 3: Imbolc

Moodboard made by Kim <3

Peter and Oberon find warmth with each other. Another Fae has different plans.

Warnings for this chapter: Fluff, smut and angst, magic and folklore, mischief, masturbation, anal (fingering), hand job, rather vanilla sex tbh? it’s full of love, then regrets and a scene that could be compared to how victims respond after rape (and the next chapter that will release on Ostara will likely contain actual dub-/noncon so please continue with care), Mysterio is here to fuck shit up.

Go to the Masterpost for all the teaser poems and chapters! Read Company - Chapter 3: Imbolc on AO3 —————————————————————————————- Here it is! Chapter 3! The next one will be posted on Ostara, March 21st. Thank you for reading it, if you do! I hope you enjoy!!! <3 - Lien

...

The Fae haunts Peter. His thoughts, his dreams- both day and night. Oberon’s smile and intense gaze follow Peter through life. He catches himself yearning to hear the man’s laughter, to feel his fingers curl in Peter’s neck as he did when he took off Peter’s coat. Sometimes, Peter imagines how he would whisper, laying next to him in bed. How his soft lips and stubble would contrast themselves on the shell of Peter’s ear. He can only guess the words the Fae would tell him, but part of him wonders what his name would sound like from Oberon’s tongue. “Peter…” The young man gasps as he shakily thrusts up into his hand, spilling over his lower abdomen. His muscles tense and his lips part to let out a strained noise in a half-assed attempt to hold back his ecstatic experience. Wave upon wave of pleasure floods over him until his body and member slack. Peter pants, eyes closed, and whispers the Fae’s name in reply to his imagination. “Oberon-” Peter knows he shouldn’t be thinking of Oberon like this. The more he gives in to his growing infatuation with the Fae, the more likely he is to slip up and give himself to the man fully. He can’t help the small voice in the back of his head, wondering how bad it would be to spend eternity with Oberon. Would it be bad at all?

… When Imbolc finally arrived, Peter took the first train to the woods. Maybe he’s a little eager, but he simply can’t wait to see Oberon again. He scrolls through his phone, smiling at some silly photos of May he took last week and setting one as his lock screen. She’s alive again because of the Fae- because of Oberon. And all the man wants is company. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, Peter thinks. If it’s company he wants, it’s company he’ll get. With the snow gone, Peter more confidently finds his way through the woods. He’s still not exactly sure where to go, but at least the direction he’s taking feels like it makes more sense. “Oberon?” Peter uses his hands to help his voice carry further. “You here?” “Why, aren’t you cute.” Peter’s back straightens and he turns, startled, at the voice behind him. A man with slightly longer, pushed back, dirty blond hair grins down at him from a large branch. His short, trimmed beard enunciates his jawline and he has large eyes, almost comically so. They glow dim, just like Oberon’s. Fae. Bad news. Peter swallows and presses his lips on top of each other, breathing in through his nose. “Says a strange man sitting in a tree by himself in the middle of the woods,” he replies calm and collected. The Fae chuckles darkly, causing a shiver to run down Peter’s spine. The man hops off the branch and lands effortlessly. “Hmm,” the Fae hums. “If it is strange I am here in the woods by myself, then why is it not odd you are here?” “I’m looking for someone,” Peter answers earnestly. “A friend who goes by Oberon.” Suddenly, Peter’s blood seems to freeze, locking him in place as the Fae stalks closer until he is right in front of Peter. He looks down, locking Peter’s eyes with his. The Fae grins and leans in, nearly letting their noses touch. “You may call me Oberon, then.” The man’s breath is cold on Peter’s face and the young man blinks in an attempt to fight a sudden drowsiness that washes over him. “I’ll be your friend.” The Fae’s gaze holds him in place and momentarily, Peter wonders if the beauty of the being’s bright blue eyes are the cause of this sleepiness. He is using magic on Peter and only now does it become painfully obvious what Oberon could have done to him from the start, but never did. “I don’t think I should-” As quickly as the Fae got hold of him, he lets Peter go again. He looks to his side cautiously and when Peter blinks, the Fae is gone. “Puck,” a familiar voice speaks. Immediately, a smile grows on Peter’s face. He pivots and the Fae seems surprised by how Peter beams. “Oberon, hey!” Peter holds himself back. Part of him wants to fall into the Fae’s embrace straight away, but as much as his feelings for the man have rooted and grown, he’s not sure Oberon has gone through the same. “Who were you talking to?” Oberon inquires curiously. Peter cocks his head and frowns. With an uncertain pout, he looks around him. “Nobody- eh, myself, I guess? I tend to do that.” … “What’s that?” Oberon creeps over Peter’s shoulder, staring at the device in Peter’s hand. The young man is seated on the soft pillows of Oberon’s cabin. Peter grins. “With my aunt back at work, she started making money again.” He holds up his phone to proudly show it to Oberon. “She gave me this phone for Christmas!” The Fae frowns slightly and shuffles to sit down next to Peter, who sucks in a breath at how close the man is to him. “Phone…” Oberon repeats, lost in thought. “It looks fragile.” “Well,” Peter chuckles. “I wouldn’t throw or toss it. I don’t want it to break- these things are expensive.” “Huh.” Oberon cocks an eyebrow. There’s a curious glimmer in his eyes as he stares at Peter’s fingers caressing the screen. “May I… May I see it?” “You are seeing it, aren’t you?” Peter smirks. Oberon scoffs and gestures at the phone. “From up close, please?” “Since you asked so nicely,” Peter says theatrically, wanting to hand Oberon the device. However, he quickly pulls back. “There’s metal in this.” “I can handle it, remember?” Oberon says with an encouraging nod. “I am Iron Man.” “Right- right,” Peter chuckles at the silly nickname and passes the phone to the Fae. The man turns and twists it in his hands, studying it intently. His eyes squeeze to slits in an attempt to look into the charger hole. “Press the button on the screen,” Peter instructs. Oberon looks up at him confused, but does as told. The screen lights up and a photo of Peter and May together appears. Oberon gasps in awe. “Who is that?” “M-“ Peter stops himself, nearly saying her name. “My aunt.” “The one I helped?” Peter nods. “She seems nice.” “She’s the nicest.” “Not I?” Oberon jokes, causing Peter to scoff a soft laugh. “Don’t make me choose.” Oberon perks up at that, eyes wide and glimmering, mouth open in a wide smile. “So, you think I am nice?” “I- I don’t mind spending time with you.” Peter looks away into the fire, blushing profusely and silently swearing at himself for feeling it crawl up to his ears. Oberon stays quiet, but Peter can practically hear him grinning. The Fae settles flush next to him as they both stare at the flames. “I think you are nice too,” Oberon speaks softly. He slowly raises his hand to give the phone back to Peter. Instead of taking it, Peter curls his fingers around Oberon’s and presses the home screen again. Oberon seems surprised by Peter’s actions, but watches intrigued as Peter swipes up, opening the camera without unlocking his phone. Oberon gasps when he is met with his own moving image on screen. “It is a mirror?” Oberon moves the phone closer to his face with Peter’s hands still on top of his. “A camera.” “For… Photos?” The Fae looks at Peter with a cocked head. The young man smiles and nods. “Correct,” he replies with a posh accent. “And videos too. Here-” Peter takes the phone out of Oberon’s hands and angles it so they are both in shot. His thumb hovers over the button on screen. “Cheese!” Right as Peter presses the button, Oberon turns to him with a frown. “Cheese?” Click. “What does that have to do with pictures?” Peter snorts and looks down at his phone to open his album. Oberon’s captured face is pricelessly confused, but Peter understands where it came from. “I- I’m not actually sure,” Peter chuckles. “I think it has to do with the word itself? Like, you kind of smile when you say it?” “I smile when I say cheese because it reminds me of its lovely taste.” Only then Oberon notices the photo on Peter’s screen. “Oh, that one is not particularly flattering,” he deadpans as he leans in to look at himself. “Can we tear it?” “Let’s not rip up my phone.” Peter smiles. “I’ll delete it.” “Just because I cannot lie, does not mean I cannot tell when others do,” Oberon says smugly. Peter hides his phone, but his eyes shimmer mischievously. “We could also just try again?” “Yes, let’s do that,” Peter says, already promising to himself that that photo will be his home screen. Peter unlocks his phone and raises his arm to angle it right again. His breath hitches when he feels Oberon press himself against Peter, to fit in the frame better. The Fae’s breath is warm in his neck and Peter nearly forgets what they were doing. He smiles awkwardly, but it turns into a genuine laugh when Oberon pokes his side slightly and exclaims: “CHEESE!” … “So, which one of these are edible?” Peter asks as he pulls at the leaves of a bush, nodding at the berries resting at the base of the twigs. “For starters, that one leads to an eternal nap, so I would advise against it,” Oberon states dryly. Peter immediately lets go of the plant and stands up straight again. They had decided, since Peter can’t actually eat food that Oberon offers him, to go foraging. That way, Peter can collect his own food. It’s been around five hours since Peter had arrived at the cottage and their conversations were as interesting and comfortable as they could be. Peter really loves his time with Oberon. “How about that one?” Peter sheepishly points at another bush with darker berries. Oberon smirks and saunters towards it, taking exactly one berry off of it and tossing it into his mouth. He chews and swallows. “Good pick.” He picks another few berries and eats them. Peter can only stare at Oberon’s bobbing Adam’s apple. After a few bites, Oberon cocks an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Puck? The berries are safe.” Peter blinks and steps towards the bush, but Oberon doesn’t move. Instead, he moves to angle a branch so that the berries are easier to pick for Peter. The young man fills his hand with berries and gratefully pulls his arm back from the bush. Two got squashed in his greedy attempt to fit as many as possible in his hands, but they still look edible. Peter takes his free hand and tastes a single piece. It’s a little sour, but incredibly tasty. He immediately perks up and tosses another three in his mouth, not noticing Oberon’s intense stare on him. Peter’s next bite is a little too eager. To prevent the berry from falling out, he clenches his teeth. However, the berry wasn’t in Peter’s mouth all the way, so it squashes and starts dripping down his chin. “Shit-” Peter exclaims as he makes a cup of his hands to catch the juice dripping down. “Here,” Oberon says quickly. “Allow me-” The Fae raises his hand and steps closer until their breaths mingle. Peter can’t move as Oberon’s thumb finds his jaw and wipes away the juice. He looks up at the man with big eyes, jaw slacked as his mind races. Oberon, seemingly reluctantly, takes his hand back but Peter stops him by dropping the berries he still had to the ground and grabbing hold of the Fae’s wrist. His mouth is dry, regardless of the juicy fruit he just ate. He feels like he’s not breathing, but judging by the fact that he can feel his heart thump in his head and that he sees his chest rising and falling rapidly from his peripheral vision, he’s still taking in oxygen. “Puck?” Oberon whispers. “Are you-” “I think there’s still some left on my lips,” Peter replies breathlessly. It is a bold move, but one he was definitely willing to make after so many more hours of talking and getting to know the man better. “My hands are already sticky.” Oberon licks his lips, eyes strained on Peter’s plump ones. Peter absentmindedly mimics Oberon’s actions. “Only one way to get rid of it then…” Oberon scoffs softly at Peter’s directness. The corner of his mouth curls up as he leans in, closing his eyes. Peter’s and Oberon’s noses brush together and Peter can’t help but close his eyes as well, relishing in the feeling of Oberon’s heat flush against him and his breath mingling with the Fae’s. He gasps softly when he feels a tongue flick against his lips, but the Fae remains distanced in a way that drives Peter mad with want. “I can only imagine how sweet you would taste,” Oberon mutters. “Don’t imagine anymore…” Peter’s order soon turns into a plea. “Please.” “Since when are you so loose? So relaxed? Why would you let me steal a kiss from y-” Peter lets out a strained noise at Oberon’s indecision on what to do, now knowing damn well the Fae wants exactly the same Peter wants. He boldly leans in, immediately opening his mouth so Oberon can push his surprised moan into him. Where Peter took initiative, Oberon now takes the lead. Peter lets himself be guided into the kiss, letting go of Oberon’s hand, so it can find its way into Peter’s hair. After a little bit, Peter pulls back slightly and scoffs a quiet laugh, still not opening his eyes. “Maybe your spells are finally working.” … The door to Oberon’s cabin gets blown wide open as he and Peter are glued to each other, breathing rapidly and tugging at their clothes. The Fae lifts Peter effortlessly, kicks the door shut and pushes the young man up against it. His hips grind into Peter’s crotch and the human whimpers at the friction against his clothed cock. “O-Oberon-” he begs. “More- more, please-” The Fae immediately moves his lips to Peter’s neck to suckle on it. He grins against Peter’s skin when a certain spot has Peter buck his hips involuntarily. Oberon sucks at it a little harsher, drawing the most delicious sounds from Peter. “More-” “I will give you all- everything- all of it.” Oberon’s mutters are nearly incoherent as he ravishes down Peter’s neck, pulling at the hoodie until he can reach Peter’s collar bone. He grazes his teeth past it and pushes his hips up against Peter’s crotch again. “Yes, yes, please-” Oberon carries Peter over to the pillow pile on the floor and sits down with Peter still on top of him. The young man’s eyes flutter open to stare straight into Oberon’s. They glow brighter than they did before. Peter immediately pushes in to kiss him again, rolling his hips into Oberon’s and moaning with every sting of stimulation on his aching clothed cock. The Fae pushes his hips up invitingly as he pulls his head back to take off his shirt. Peter stares, nearly drools, at the beautifully toned chest. “Your turn,” Oberon chuckles darkly. Peter follows the Fae’s lead and undresses his upper body. When Peter’s head is hidden in his dress shirt as he awkwardly pulls it over his head, there’s a sudden intense, wet suckle on his left nipple. “A-ah!” Peter exclaims, twitching under Oberon’s attention. The Fae’s large hands keep Peter in place. He wants to get rid of his shirt asap, but now that he can’t see, the sensations of Oberon’s tongue circling his sensitive bud are all the more overwhelming. When he’s free, Peter throws the shirt away from him and moves his hands into Oberon’s hair to anchor himself. The roll of his hips into Oberon’s crotch is steady now, but both men are ready for more. Peter feels like he’s floating as the Fae turns them both around until he’s pinning Peter on the floor. He rubs their clothed crotches together and all Peter can do is take whatever is given him. “Can I-” Oberon gasps as he sucks possessive marks on Peter’s chest. “M-May I-” “Fuck me-” Peter orders. “Please, I need you-” “Oh, Dandelion,” Oberon moans, tugging at Peter’s pants. “Sweet Chamomile, Bluebell, Primrose…” Each flower nickname is paired with a kiss or a mark or the scraping of teeth over Peter’s skin. His head spins and his eyes roll back as he tries to buck up into Oberon. He can’t close his mouth anymore. All he can do is gasp and moan and attempt to catch Oberon’s lips with his before the Fae moves back to ravish Peter’s neck again. “Clover, Columbine, Sunflower-” When all clothes have been discarded and both men are grinding into each other naked, Oberon’s voice rumbles through the cottage. “Puck-” Peter smiles at how much that particular name takes him out of it. “Parker.” Oberon freezes at Peter’s last name. He pulls back, wide-eyed until he can look at Peter properly. Both of them pant, hips still gently rolling into each other as a soft reminder they’re still going. “What?” The Fae whispers. “Puck isn’t a sexy name, is it,” Peter chuckles, bringing his hands up to trace patterns on his chest with his index finger. He gasps quietly when he brushes past his nipples. “You already know my last name…” Peter half-closes his eyes and licks his lips in an attempt to seduce Oberon to continue. “Use it.” “Parker…” The word gently falls from Oberon’s lips and Peter can feel that same tug at his heart as he did last time. It feels amazing. “Parker,” Oberon repeats, seemingly feeling pleasure from simply saying it as well. “Parker-Parker-Parker-“ Sparks seem to fly from Oberon’s eyes and he growls, moving in to eat Peter up again. Peter is unsure what is happening, but it feels absolutely heavenly. Is it Fae magic? Oberon isn’t in pain, like he said he would be if he broke his promise, so it’s not Oberon using magic directly on him. Maybe Peter feels the unwritten rules of the Fae; rules no one can go around. Not even promises. Oberon might not have Peter’s full name, but through this, part of Peter wonders if he is already bound to him. In all honesty, he couldn’t even mind it if he tried. It feels too good. The sensation is everything; an overwhelming pleasure that makes Peter yearn for more. Earlier, Peter wondered if it would be bad to be bound. But if it feels like this, he is certain that it’s not bad at all. Not with someone as sweet and caring and loving and giving as Oberon. Peter gets brought back to reality by Oberon snapping his finger. The young man blinks dreamily and smiles up at the Fae. “Are you with me?” Oberon checks and Peter nods. “Feels so good-” The Fae grins but it soon fades when Peter cheekily cocks an eyebrow. “However, I do believe I told you to fuck me,” Peter says cheekily. Oberon scoffs a laugh and leans back until he’s up straight again. “Proof of autonomy, right there,” he chuckles as he brings one hand down to circle Peter’s hole. Peter immediately pushes down and lets out a soft whine. “Make me yours-” he gasps. Oberon licks one long stripe from Peter’s right nipple over his collar bone, up to his neck and jaw. “You already are, my flower.” Oberon’s voice is dark and Peter can’t help a high pitched sigh escape his throat. “Are you alright with Oberon?” Peter double checks. “From your lips, always,” the Fae smirks, still teasing around Peter’s entrance. “Anything else, my king?” Peter jokes, referencing the fact that the character is king of the Fae. Oberon freezes at that, causing Peter to open his eyes. “Too much?” Peter ponders out loud. Oberon licks his lips and swallows, seemingly regaining his composure. The Fae then pushes in without warning, curling his finger. Peter’s surprised the glide comes so easily. Like he is already lubed up. Magic, he guesses. He doesn’t really want to think more of it and the ecstasy already makes him forget what just happened. When Peter’s body complies and follows without protest, it doesn’t take long for a second finger to be added. And then a third. Peter is fucking himself on Oberon’s fingers while the man searches for the spot that will make Peter scream. Soon enough, he finds it. Though, after brushing past it once and earning the most delectable noise from Peter, he pulls his fingers back. Before Peter can whine about the lack of touch, the fingers are replaced by Oberon’s stiff cock. “Wasps-” Peter chuckles at the characteristic swear coming from the Fae. “You’re so tight, Parker. So tight.” Oberon bottoms out and stops moving, allowing Peter to get adjusted to the Fae’s girth. Peter, however, is so ready to be fucked, he doesn’t really want to wait anymore. He reaches his, up until now jelly and motionless, arms up until his fingers wrap around Oberon’s shoulders. He then starts pulling and smiles when Oberon lets himself be guided. The Fae’s eyes are closed, like he’s trying to concentrate. It makes him a lot more compliant, which Peter uses to his advantage. Peter keeps pulling and turning until Oberon is laying down and Peter is sitting on top of him. The young man’s hands rest on the Fae’s chest. “Your turn,” Peter whispers, repeating what Oberon said earlier, as he leans down to obscenely lick at Oberon’s perched nipples. He wets them up nicely and moves back enough so his index fingers and thumbs get enough space to start rolling the nipples between them. Oberon chokes back a moan. His entire body is tense. It’s only now that Peter notices Oberon’s arms are spread, fists clenched and… Is that magic in his closed palms? “Are you alright?” Peter inquires. Oberon nods, simply and aggressively. “Holding back-” he chokes out. “What are you holding back?” Peter’s question is paired with a first, slow and gentle roll of his hips. Oberon sucks in a breath and Peter stares curiously at the sparks, brightening in the Fae’s hands. “Magic. My- m-” “Is that magic dangerous to me?” Something about that question thrilled Peter. The only thing that actually frightens him right now is the idea Oberon might want to stop. And also the fact that he may or may not have fallen in love with the man below him. “No,” Oberon groans. “J-Just magic-” he pauses to react to Peter slowly lifting himself up his cock, only to lower himself again and slightly wiggle his hips when he bottoms out. Peter’s curiosity grows by the second, just as his need to get both Oberon and himself off. “What kind?” The words roll off Peter’s tongue, low and alluring. “Illusions- I think I- I can make them be illusions.” Peter isn’t sure what Oberon means with that exactly, but the reply surely piqued his interest. He picks up the pace riding the Fae, reveling in how Oberon falls apart below him. The magic in Oberon’s hands intensifies and it is now Peter’s sole mission to have the man let go for him. Peter leans in and kisses Oberon on the lips, so soft and gentle. “Oberon,” Peter whispers as he sits up straight again, slowly but surely turning his rolling into bouncing. “Open your eyes.” The Fae obeys and moans at the sight of Peter’s body on top of him. In a reflex, the man starts fucking up into Peter in tune with Peter’s bouncing. “O-oh, yes!” Peter exclaims. “I- I wanna see it, Oberon. Y-your magic. Let it out-“ Oberon’s eyes roll back as he loses tension in his fingers. Blues and purples shoot from his hands, surrounding the two lovers with an endless galaxy. Peter gasps surprised, staring at the infinity around them. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. When he looks down at Oberon again, whose eyes still glow and flicker, he notices even the ground has turned to stars below them. He grins as he picks up the pace again. “Never thought I’d get to fuck in space,” he chuckles, riding Oberon feverishly. “Or y’know, get fucked by a Fae.” “You,” Oberon sighs with a smile. “You talk too much.” Now that Oberon doesn’t have to hold anything back anymore, he quickly turns them around like they were before. His hands, still sparking with magic, cup Peter’s cheeks and he brings them together in a hungry kiss. He has once again taken the lead and is now thrusting into Peter, chasing his high. One hand swiftly finds its way down between them. Peter moans into Oberon’s mouth when the Fae’s fingers curl around his shaft to pump him at the same pace as Oberon’s hips move against him. They’re wet and sticky with magic lube and precum and the sounds their crashing bodies make are downright porn-worthy. “Parkeeer…” The Fae groans. “O-Oberon,” Peter replies breathlessly. Their pace is relentless now, bodies tensed and nearing release. “Stark,” the Fae says, causing Peter’s eyes to shoot open when he feels another tug at his heart. The Fae looks down at him with a panting half-smile. “If I get to call you Parker, you get to call me Stark.” Last names. Peter’s entire body shakes and trembles as the edge is ever so close. He’s on fire, surrounded by moons and stars and milky ways and Oberon- Stark, right there with him, above him, making him see even more stars. “S-Stark-” he whispers. Around him, the scene intensifies and Oberon’s eyes glow even brighter. “Yes, that’s it, my sweet, my flower, my Parker-” Peter squeezes his eyes shut. “So close-” Peter isn’t sure if Oberon means himself or Peter, but either way, he’s right. “Wanna cum,” he gasps, biting into Oberon’s lower lip slightly. “Go on then, show me your beauty,” Oberon encourages, moving to sit up a little straighter and parting their faces from each other. Peter instinctively tries to move up along with Oberon, so he can keep their lips locked, but Oberon pushes him back down. The Fae’s thrusts are more calculated now, angled exactly where Peter needs him to go. His last free hand shifts to gently roll Peter’s balls while his other still pumps the young man’s shaft feverishly. “Stark!” Peter’s body thrashes and he cums, spilling himself all over Oberon’s hand and his own belly. He clenches down on the Fae’s cock and smiles deliriously when he milks Stark, the feeling of his insides being coated white adding another surge of pride and pleasure to his high. “Oh, flower,” Stark sighs, nearly dropping himself on top of Peter. “You were so good, so sweet.” Peter’s eyes are already closed, Oberon’s cock still sheathed inside of him. “Hmm…” Stark/Oberon shifts until they are both laying on their sides, bodies still flush together. “Will you sleep for me tonight?” Peter nods absentmindedly, still grinning ear to ear and basking in the afterglow. The smile brightens slightly when he feels Oberon’s lips press a soft kiss on his nose. “I will be here in the morning. Take your rest. I’ll hold you.” Peter drifts to sleep to the soft humming of the Fae’s voice. Not bad, he thinks before losing himself to slumber. Not bad at all. … A chilly breeze hits Peter’s face. His lips curl up and he turns, feeling around for Oberon. For Stark. His smile fades when the haze of just waking up fades and he notices just how cold the room actually is. His hand ends up on the cool flooring. Oberon isn’t there. Peter opens his eyes and sucks in some air when he notices there is snow. Inside. He quickly moves to sit upright, pulling the blankets up to keep himself warm, and he looks around. Oberon sits by the opened door, hands folded together in front of his mouth. He’s hunched up and his expression is stern. Tight. Worry settles in Peter’s stomach. “O-Oberon?” He isn’t sure if he should be saying the Fae’s actual name now. Oberon doesn’t look up. “Get dressed.” “Is something wrong?” Peter’s browns curl together. “Get. Dressed.” Peter remains seated, frozen in place and at a loss for words. When Peter still doesn’t move, Oberon finally turns his face to stare Peter down. “Do as you’re told.” “Excuse me?” The young man’s eyes go wide with surprise. Who does this man think he is? “You’re leaving,” Oberon says with a shaky voice. “Now.” He looks away again. “Get dressed.” The world around Peter collapses. Everything they had been through together, everything that had happened… Is over? “I don’t understand-” “Do not make me get over there and force you.” Peter immediately stands and grabs his clothes, feeling his tears threatening to spill. The only word going through is head right now is why. Why would Oberon do this? Why is he suddenly so different? Why does Peter have to leave so suddenly? Why is this happening? Once Peter is dressed, he grabs his phone from where it’s resting against a pillow. The screen doesn’t light up. Great; his new phone is dead too. He stares at his reflection in the dark screen. His cheeks are red and his eyes puffed. He blinks and then the tears fall. “Puck.” Peter gasps and looks up at the Fae who now stands. An odd glow now radiates from the middle of his chest. The man’s expression is pained, like he’s holding back. “You are no longer indebted to me. You are to go home and forget about us. Do not come back to these woods. Ever.” “You,” Peter pushes out through gritted teeth, his sadness slowly making place for anger. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” Oberon doesn’t speak. The only response Peter gets to his accusation is the twitch over Oberon’s upper lip. “You manipulated me enough to have sex with me and now you’re dropping me.” The Fae looks away and takes hold of the door, gesturing to outside. “Leave,” Oberon orders. “Please.” Peter is confused at how the Fae’s voice cracks, as if he actually cares about Peter. “Unbelievable,” the young man breathes. “I can’t believe I fell for this. For you!” “LEAVE!” The Fae’s aggression reverbs through the cottage, making it even colder than it already was. Peter’s jaw trembles as his tears now freely glide down his cheeks. Peter runs. Past the pots and pans at the cooking area, past the herbs hanging from the ceiling, past Oberon, through the door. The second he sets foot outside, he hears the door being thrown shut, but when he turns around he finds the cabin has disappeared entirely. It’s gone. And now Peter is alone in the woods. He shakes violently, dropping to his knees and sobbing. Part of him hopes that wherever Oberon is, that he can hear him wail. … When Peter arrives home, he plugs in his phone and heads to the shower. He feverishly washes himself, scrubbing his body and hating how he can still feel the Fae’s touch lingering on his skin. He wants it gone. Wants the Fae gone. He sobs under the stream, knowing damn well that he will never be able to get rid of the sensation of disgust. After an hour of letting his tears disappear in the drain, he turns off the tap, broken and drained- empty and dulled. He drops himself on his bed and simply lays there. He won’t be able to sleep anyways. … Peter is startled back to reality by his buzzing phone. The alarm he had set for the morning after Oberon went off, now that the battery was fully charged again. He swallows and grabs his phone, snoozing his alarm. He wants to put the phone away, but notices something is off. He unlocks it and the notification that caught his guard now fully pops up. Recording ended due to empty battery. Confused, yet curious, Peter opens his album to check which recording the notification meant. He blinks a few times when he spots the right one. Two hours and forty-two minutes. When did that happen? He selects it and starts the recording, not entirely unsurprised to be met by Oberon’s face, extremely close to the camera. The sight stings him. “Oh, this is a video right?” Oberon’s voice asks from the phone’s speakers. “Right. Well, hello, future Puck, I am going to show you something.” The Fae turns the camera to show a peacefully sleeping Peter. The camera moves closer to Peter and he can hear a bit of shuffling. He guesses Oberon went to lay down next to Peter. “Do you see your face?” Oberon’s voice is toned down and soft, now that he’s so close to Peter’s sleeping form. Peter watches what Oberon means, already feeling the tears sting in his eyes again. “You wear no mask now…” A hand appears from the corner of the screen to move a few of Peter’s curls out of the way. His fingers caress Peter’s cheek, causing an unwelcome shiver to run down Peter’s real spine. “You are at peace like this. So wonderful, so beautiful…” The Fae sighs content. “I could watch you like this for hours, you know?” “I know.” Peter is startled to hear himself talk in the video. In his sleep. Oberon chuckles. “Oh, do you?” “Mhm.” “Tell me, Puck, what is your favorite season?” “Spring.” “Well, aren’t you lucky that’s right around the corner.” Peter wants to throw his phone to the other side of the room. Oberon is having a conversation with him that he doesn’t remember having. Because he was asleep. It makes him feel uneasy and wonder what else the Fae asked him. “Think you can do some math right now? That ought to be fun to make you try.” The Peter in the video doesn’t reply, so Oberon simply continues. “Puck, what is two plus two?” “Four,” Peter replies promptly. “Easy.” “Alright how about twenty-one times forty-eight?” It’s quiet for a few seconds, but Peter replies still. “One thousand and eight.” “I honestly would not know how to check if it is correct, but I would surely assume you are correct.” Oberon asks Peter some more insignificant questions before falling silent again, simply looking at Peter. It seems he forgot he was filming Peter as the phone is quickly put away in a standing position. Peter guesses this was the spot he found his phone in, looking out over the entire cottage. Peter scrolls ahead in the video, not wanting to watch Oberon play with Peter’s hair for one and a half hours. Peter plays the video at normal speed again when he spots Oberon standing up. He shuffles around the room and speaks softly. “I will be out back to collect some more berries. Will you be alright, my love?” The name is a punch in the gut for Peter and he pulls at his hair. He doesn’t know why he’s still watching, but part of him wonders if whatever made Oberon change his mind like that so suddenly has been caught on camera. “Be fine,” Peter in the video mumbles bluntly. “Love you, bye.” A wide, surprised smile spreads on Oberon’s face and he walks out, mumbling something to himself. Again, nothing happens for half an hour, when suddenly… “Here you are…” A familiar voice speaks. A stranger saunters into Oberon’s cottage. Peter feels like he’s seen him somewhere before, but he can’t recall where. His eyes glow blue, like Oberon’s and when he reaches Peter, he squats down. “Didn’t expect someone as delectable as you to spend time with our heir.” Heir…? Peter’s skin crawls when the man’s hand traces down his bare body, curiously lifting the blankets and grinning wide at his findings. Peter instinctively clutches his sheets, covering himself more. He feels even more disgusted now. “Oh, aren’t you spent…” His eyes darken and his smirk turns ever so evil. “Used.” “Was so good,” the Peter in the video says. The man perks up surprised. “You speak in your slumber?” “Mm…” “Oh, what a nice turn of events…” The man’s hand cups Peter’s face. “Does the prince know your name?” Prince- “No- yes. A little.” “A little? How does that work?” “Last name.” “Oh, like so. Well then, sweet thing, what is your last name?” “Parker.” Peter feels the tug at his heart again. No, is all he can think. Don’t say more. “And then, if you’ll indulge me… What is your first name?” “Your voice is silenced in eclipse, no more words fall from your lips-” Oberon rushes in and reaches his hand forward at Peter, quieting him immediately. The second the spell has settled on Peter, Oberon’s eyes widen and he freezes before he collapses clutching his chest and letting out an agonized groan. Peter stirs, but the other Fae waves his hand once. “Do not wake ‘til morning comes, Parker, I have plans for you.” The man turns back to Oberon and scoffs a laugh. “I can spell him all I want, I have no promises to break. Unlike you, cousin.” Oberon gasps as he trembles, the area where he clutched his chest now glows blue like his eyes. Like Peter had seen the morning after. Oberon broke his promise and now had to deal with the consequences- the pain. He broke his promise; to protect Peter. “Why are you here,” Oberon seethes. “Why, I was quite intrigued to find this beautiful specimen in the woods yesterday. Searching for Oberon. I suppose that is you?” The man laughs condescendingly. “And you are not even king yet.” He turns back to Peter. “Pathetic… You didn’t even take his name.” “Step away from him.” “I will not. You have not claimed him, so I will.” “Mysterio-“ Oberon threatens, squaring up. His hands turn to ice like they had done when he almost spelled Flash. Snow is brought through the opened door by a wind Oberon conjures up. “Leave Puck alone.” “Oh!” Mysterio exclaims. “You call him Puck? And he calls you Oberon. How disgustingly sweet.” His expression drops. “I’m going to hurl.” “He’s not yours to take, leave us!” The snow in the cottage thickens as Oberon’s skin pales more with anger and cold magic. “Iron Man, do not tell me you love him.” Oberon’s jaw tightens at Mysterio’s condescending tone. “Oh, you love him.” Mysterio confirms to himself. “Well, then I’ll certainly enjoy taking him for myself.” “I will not let you!” Peter doesn’t understand why Oberon doesn’t just force the man out of his home. “You will, cousin.” Mysterio stands upright and circles Peter like a hawk, waiting for the right moment to take his prey. “For if you do not, I will tell all of Winter Court of the human you bedded. The human you want. The human you did not trick. The human who is not yours, for you do not have his name.” “You would not,” Oberon breathes. “All the Fae will come for him then. I won’t be able to protect him.” “That is what you are worried about?” Mysterio scoffs. “Not that your father will revoke your title and pass the throne to me for your dishonorable and disappointing behavior?” “I do not want to be a king like my father. The title means nothing to me.” “Then why not pass it to me?” “And leave you in charge of all of Winter Court? I’d rather eat my own two feet.” “Rude, much,” Mysterio says faux-offended. “Tell you what. I’m giving you one chance to redeem yourself.” “What will you have me do.” “Claim him.” “No,” Oberon immediately counters, taking two steps forward. Desperation seeps off every word. “No, please, do not make me do this.” “You choose, Oberon,” Mysterio taunts. “You either take his name and keep your honor, or you will lose your title to me and all of Winter Court will be scouring these woods to use him the way you would not.” He cocks his head and grins. “And I will be first in line. Your boy will certainly look lovely at my feet, having no choice but to worship me for all eternity.” “You disgust me,” Oberon seethes. Though, his magic loses power as his shoulders start hanging. “And you me, cousin.” Mysterio then steps over Peter’s body as he casually makes his way to the door, past Oberon. He places his hand on Oberon’s shoulder and pats twice. “Make our court proud.” Mysterio then leaves Oberon and Peter alone in the cottage- in the cold. Oberon’s sad eyes find Peter’s figure and after a minute of visibly holding in his tears he manages to shuffle towards Peter. A soft sob escapes his throat as he lays down next to Peter again, fixing his hair where Mysterio had undone it. The new light emitting from Oberon’s chest now lights up both of their faces. The Fae waves his hand over Peter’s face to undo the spell he had put on him. He then sniffs and the Peter watching the video cries along with him. “Oh, Puck, my flower,” Oberon mumbles through his tears. “I do not wish to lose you. I want to keep you.” “Keep me,” sleeping Peter replies softly. Oberon swallows and closes his eyes. “I can’t.” “Keep me,” Peter repeats. “No.” Oberon is sobbing quietly now. His shoulders shake with every intake of breath. “No.” The Fae presses his lips together and swallows. “I love you too much to keep you.” “Love you too, bye.” Oberon can’t help but scoff a quiet laugh through his tears. Peter is still asleep. Whatever he says is steered on by his subconscious. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but Peter can’t get himself to stop the video. He watches as all possible emotions in existence pass over Oberon’s face. “Puck,” Oberon asks suddenly. Peter holds his breath, anticipating the question. “What is your name?” Peter stares breathlessly at the screen, but when the Peter in the video opens his mouth to speak, Oberon swiftly covers it. “No. No, I do not want it.” He averts his gaze. “I should not have asked to begin with, I am sorry.” “It’s okay,” sleeping Peter answers, probably only responding to the I am sorry part, not actually aware of what it was attached to. “It is not.” It’s quiet again for a little bit. Peter notices the video is almost at its end. He wonders if anything else will be said before his phone’s battery died. In the last thirty seconds, Oberon speaks once more. “I have decided to let you go, flower.” Oberon’s words are shaky. “You deserve your freedom more than I deserve anything else.” Peter is sobbing now, so painfully aware of the things he had accused Oberon of when he left the cottage. “You will never see me again after this, so I want- I want you to have this… To have mine.” Peter frowns through his tears. His…? His what? “My name…” Peter’s eyes widen and he sits up straight in his bed. Is Oberon giving him the one thing they would never share? “My name is-” Peter stares at a black screen as the video and audio cut right when Oberon was about to say his name. After five solid minutes of being frozen in place, something in his mind finally clicks. He has to go back. Back to the woods, back to Oberon. Stat. Straight away. Pronto. Immediately. Now. … Peter runs as fast as his legs can carry him. The ground in the woods is treacherous and uneven, but he can’t get himself to slow down. The wind cuts the skin on his face and his quick breath condenses in front of his mouth. “OBERON!” His screams carry far. “OBERON, COME TO ME!” He nearly trips, causing him to stop running altogether. “OBERON, PLEASE!” he cries out. “PLEASE!” Peter wants to protect Oberon the way he had protected May. Mysterio hadn’t given Oberon this third option; to let Peter leave. It was a risk Oberon had taken in an attempt to go around Mysterio’s threat, since in both, Peter’s freedom would be taken. The Fae was presented with two choices: claim the name or don’t and suffer the consequences. Thing is, Oberon did not claim Peter’s name. That means Mysterio will still tell all of Winter Court about Peter. Oberon will lose the throne and be shunned from his people forever. That is why Peter is here. Oberon has to take his name. He simply has to. And now, Peter is more than ready to give it to him. The Fae had sent Peter away to protect him from being taken, but there is nothing he wants more right now then to be taken. By no one other than- “OBERON!” It’s no use. Peter has been walking for hours now, searching the woods for any sign of the Fae. Or any Fae for that matter. He assumes they would’ve already found him by now, but they are nowhere to be seen. He unlocks his phone and swears when he realizes what day it is. The human world and the Fae world are parallel to each other and they only really mingle on the actual Pagan celebrations. It’s no longer Imbolc. The veil is back. Peter couldn’t find any fairy circles or other signs of passage to their realm in his desperate attempt to locate Oberon, which means there is no way he can find the Fae before the next time Oberon and he were supposed to meet. Ostara. March 21st. Defeated, Peter falls to his knees on the forest floor, clutching his phone against his chest and crying without tears. He had none left. Peter inwardly has to tell himself that he is going to have to go home… And that he is about to face the longest one and half months of his life…