#like they're worried of him being emotional and wild

[dumbassalex]

Rewatching the X-men movies and along with Logans shortstack status they took all his angry gremlin dna, huh?

[the-acid-pear]

Need to finish my Dave design so I can draw him with Mori

[gaypirate420]

Kaleidoscope // Viktor

S2!Viktor x gender neutral!reader.

Summary: You're staring at his eyes.

Fluff. Spoilers!!!!

Viktor stares at his hand, that purple flowing and metallic skin. He just healed? Cured? an addict from the undercity, his mismatched pupils look up.

At you.

You followed behind when he left Jayce's lab, you were too determined and he didn't fight as hard as he wanted, in other times he would tell you to stay with Jayce, stay safe. He didn't keep you away from the Hexcore without reason, but he couldn't fight, as much as his mind was screaming at him, he just nodded monotonously after a couple of pleas.

Your eyes meet his, you sit down in front of him, whimpering slightly, after the explosion of the Council left you with an injured leg.

His eyes dart back down, he could just reach out and you wouldn't be in pain anymore but he closes his fingers and lowers his hand to his lap. He needs to understand a little more about this new... identity of his before he even attempts to touch you in any sort of way, he doesn't want to risk it. Sky disappeared in front of him like dust in the wind, he can't do that to you.

You smiled softly. His furrowed eyebrows soften.

"How are you feeling?" You asked with a soft whisper. He sighs, his eyes don't leave yours, in one hand he isn't feeling pain, that ache, that little needle-like sensation that infested his leg and back since he had memory. But on the other hand, he doesn't feel much, he isn't scared but also not happy, he isn't completely aware of what is happening but he is not mindless.

You keep looking at him, that smile doesn't falter and that is comforting. You're not scared of him not even after what you just saw.

"I don't know." He answers, there's a small shiver down your back, his speech pattern has changed, it's slow and monotone but there's some sparkles of emotions in it, it's not like he has talked much for you to completely understand yet.

You nod at his words, God you were so patient with him, always have been.

Your eyes don't leave his, the amber eyes he held are nowhere to be found, now a duller color replaces them but there's this drop of cyan, maybe crimson at times that moves around the two irises.

"Is there something wrong?" He asks, you shake your head.

"Nothing wrong, Vitya. I'm just looking at your eyes." You speak softly, scooting a little closer towards him.

Vitya.

His lips twitch ever so slightly, yes he is your Vitya, at least he thinks he is and you don't seem to look at him any differently, there's still that deep affection in your eyes, of course there is worry in your gaze, but the devoted love remains.

"What's with them?" He speaks again.

"They're different..." You whispered as you leaned your face closer. He doesn't move, he remembers the feeling, after years of being with you his heart still went wild when you approached, but now it's dull, but it's there. He knows it is, it's just a little distant, just in the tip of his fingers.

"Like- copper...but...there's this- bleeding of color.." You whispered as your eyes fixated on his, you were so close. Your breath against his face, lips near that beauty mark you loved to kiss.

"Like a kaleidoscope." You whispered, you didn't pull away, you missed having him so close. Viktor nods at your words, he hasn't seen himself fully yet.

You two stare at each other for a couple of seconds. Your hand hesitantly reaches up and cups his face, muscle memory is a hell of a thing, he immediately nuzzles his face against your hand. It's familiar yet he feels like this is the first time touching you.

He feels you. Not just your gentle hand or soft skin, you. It's a different kind of touch, like he's touching your soul, your very being.

You contain your excitement. He is still there. You smiled softly. His eyes flutter as he feels a faint sensation of your lips against his beauty mark.

He stays silent. It was dull, like a ghost touched him yet like every star in the sky placed a kiss upon his face.

"Will you do that again, please?" He whispers, meeting your eyes once more.

A/N: (Divider) Hiiii, hope you like this, I wasn't sure about writing something so fast, but I needed to get rid of the feeling. I loved Act 1, it was worth staying up til 5 am, Viktor has bewitched my soul completely, I don't have a lot of opinions, just questions, I'm going to wait until the whole season is over to talk about it and the characters. Enjoy the fic! Send requests please.

[r0-boat]

*clears throat* PUPPY! *chases Naberius*

(I'm sorry I'm a white girl who has no fear about petting the big puppy)

The funny thing is that he would enjoy it ;)

Naberius general headcanons

NSFW&SFW

His defeat growl gave me chills.

Has different levels of his form!

10% : ears and tail with fangs, they tend to pop up when he is excited.

50%: most werewolf like, Naberius can somewhat control it. He's just more animalistic.

100%: Run! He is no longer in control usually happens when his emotions are at his highest. Extreme anger/extreme sadness ETC.

Clingy, however he doesn't really like to show it. I'll follow you like a lost puppy to any room you walk in. Desperately wants your attention, your touch, even though he's trying to be professional, but you make it so hard.

He'll do anything, get you anything, He is completely loyal, hoping for your praise, your affection. Sitri hates him, calls him your lap dog. As if he also isn't as eager to serve as Naberius is.

Protective. He'll watch you chatting with other devils. He has told you before that some devils aren't as nice as the ones you've met before, but he doesn't want to stop you from hanging out with anyone you choose. However, he will not hesitate in beating The shit out of any devil that harms as much as a little hair on your head.

*Nabs pissed off and chewing out a devil*

Mc: "who's a good boy!"

Nabs: "Mc! Not now..." *He rolls his eyes unaware that His tail is wagging*

He's usually calm and collected, but once he's worked up, it's hard to calm down. Amon and Bael quickly realized that Naberius, in his Titan form, seemed to stop in his tracks when he sees you; the beast that was knocking buildings and setting everything ablaze with fire breath now sitting idly, His three tails wagging happily, nuzzling you with their big noses.

Raw and primal, that's how he thinks sex should be. He can't tell you how many times he has daydreamed about taking you doggy sinking his fangs and claws into you while he knots you. Whimpering, to fill you with his pups. His tail wagging back and for as he humps into your squeezing walls despite to milk every last drop of his seed inside you.

Naberius is just as filthy and wild as he is refined and professional. So eager to turn into a mindless beast ripping off his and your clothes and breed you, make you his mate.

To make him submit to you you'll need to overwhelm and overpower him. Collar and leash him. Make sure the collar and the leash is strong enough so it doesn't break when he shifts.

His were hellhound body is so much bigger than yours. It's not as large as his Titan version, where he towers over buildings. But it's enough to tower over you. To encase you in his arms to hold you down while he mates with you.

Nothing gets him off more than letting him chase you down; nothing gets him harder than the thrill of the hunt. Looking at you with pure hunger in his eyes as it gives you a 1-minute head start. Don't worry; His nose is extra sensitive. He could sniff you out of any hiding spot; he has memorized your delicious scent. He could feel his cock hardening when he saw you from the bushes, helpless prey, vigilant, delicious prey. He hopes you run when you see him, Even though he could outspeed you. Run and fight him till your lungs and legs give out for Naberius to tackle you down onto the ground. And he wants you to fight back, claw and bite, Kick and hit, fight to escape, or fight for dominance. He'll try his hardest to hold deep down, rip your clothes off, and fuck you good until you obey. Take you to his balls are empty, and you are both spent

He is an intelligent, demon with a lot of responsibilities. Despite his powerful position, He craves nothing more than sometimes to become your mindless little fuck pet, his only job being to serve you.

He has ruts; they're so bad if he doesn't knot some tight hole soon, His control will slip, and he will turn into a rampaging beast. He tries to lock himself away. Anyway, he can keep it at bay as much as he wants to slip and become a mindless animal. He knows how much damage he'll cause to the entire kingdom. But now that you're here, his ruts are more enjoyable. Addicted to your scent and the taste of your sweet skin, His body is practically glued to yours, nuzzling his nose into your neck, begging for you to be alone with him. Begging for you to be underneath him, begging for you to let him stick his cock inside you and knot you. He is addicted to the feeling of himself pushing inside you one last time for his knot to lock itself deep inside, with the head of his cock nuzzling against your deepest parts before emptying his balls inside you.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

May I request some full HCs of the M6 with an ex coliseum fighter MC?

The Arcana HCs: M6 with an ex-Coliseum fighter MC

Julian

His first thought when he laid eyes on you after he broke into your shop was "wow, they must have some stories to tell!"

Oddly enough, the physical (and mental/emotional) scars you carry from your time in the Coliseum are big reasons for why he chooses to trust you - and, eventually to cherish you. You've been through it

As someone who's had quite the wild life himself, he can trust you to understand how difficult experiences do and don't define who you are. He knows if he talks about life with pirates, you'll get it

If it's his turn to have a nightmare, he doesn't have to worry that talking about his bad dreams will expose you to new horrors. If it's your turn, he's a light sleeper for good reasons

Tends to pry for stories about your time there, but in a good way that pushes you to process what it was like

Checked over all the scars you accumulated there and regularly asks after any lingering chronic pain from the injuries

Once he's gotten past the initial flirtatious comments and the awkwardness of opening up, he'd be lying if he doesn't find the scars and background very attractive. Rough him up anytime ~

Asra

They're in two minds about the whole situation and they're not totally sure how to proceed with it when discomfort isn't their thing

He's glad you're not there anymore. He often wonders if you coming back without memories was actually a merciful thing, if it meant not remembering the details of your trauma

They hate seeing all the marks of pain and violence on your body, because it's like a reminder to them of one of the many ways they somehow let you down or left you alone when you needed help

Deep down, however, it's beyond comforting to him to know what you're capable of surviving without help, because he knows he can't always be there for you no matter how hard he tries

They know that if you're ever in a situation again where your life is threatened, you'll fight viciously to preserve it. They hate that you experienced it and hope you never will again, but they're relieved

All that to say, he doesn't know how to talk about it and he's not going to broach the subject unless you do

Still committed to loving you and being open with you. They know you, they know you're good, and they want you to know them too

Nadia

When she first met you, she assumed the scars must have come from fighting in a war. The Coliseum didn't occur to her

She doesn't even have the clearest memories of it, since she only really saw it after being married to the man who instated it. That doesn't stop her from feeling immensely guilty about it

This happened to you while she had the power to push back against it, and she didn't. There was so much going wrong that she never addressed because she was holed up in her tower, hiding

That only spurs her to try to make things right. You do receive a halting but heartfelt apology from her early on, and a respectful invitation to share your experience with her at your comfort

Just as you've helped her to move on and recover, she wants to do the same for you. You have a powerful skill set. To the extent that you're willing to, she'd love to see you put it to noble use

How do you feel about teaching martial arts? She'll put you in touch with Nahara, and will help you fund a teaching studio for anyone who could use the coaching

Or you could be her personal bodyguard ...

Muriel

More than anything, he's just relieved he never had to kill you. He already has so much regret to live with, and the thought of ending the person who would've made life good again is horrific

That doesn't make you easy to be around at first. Everything about you brings back the memories he wants to leave behind

The scars that match his, the way you react to movement, even the way you walk to compensate for the drag of chains you don't wear anymore. You're the un-hateable mirror of everything that hurts

And that's just after the first few days. Truthfully, you scare him, and even after building a new life with you there are still moments when being perceived by you terrifies him, because you get him

You don't need words or confessions to understand the hell that's shaped him so profoundly. And even when he can't stand to carry someone else's pain on top of his own, he still understands yours

It's precisely that forced vulnerability that makes loving you so profoundly healing. He loves you for you, he loves you for the pain you've experienced, and since it's the same as his own, he's learning to love himself begrudgingly in the process

Portia

Not put off by you at all, which is extremely rare for you

She finds it attractive if anything. You look like someone who's really lived. You look like someone who gives as good as they get

It makes her a little uncomfortable to be around at first. She's so quickly caught up in the coolness and excitement of your violent past that she can get borderline insensitive with her questions

What's it like to be in a fight? Who's the biggest person you fought? Did you really have to kill all of your opponents? How many did you kill? Was there a lot of blood? What weapons did you use?

Does a complete 180 the first time she sees the emotional and mental toll it's taken on you. She's so empathetic, it takes all of five seconds for her to understand this is trauma before she's weeping

So very happy to be your anchor and grounding presence. She will hold you and grieve with you and never, ever, ever look at you differently for what you were a part of. You're not scary to her

Almost overprotective when it comes to how other people perceive you. Someone's acting like you're the scariest person in the room and making you uncomfortable? She's about to prove them wrong

Lucio

After spending three years as a goat ghost, he doesn't care who you are, just talk to him - oh, his survival depends on your good graces? And he had you stuck as a Coliseum fighter? Hmmm

Tried to hide it, but he was scared at first. He was smart enough to know that you had good reason to dislike him, and therefore plenty of reason to further mess him up in such a vulnerable state

But you didn't. Which made him confused. And curious

Tell him about your time there, then! What was it like being in the ring? Being a participant in his favorite fight of yours?

Oh. Oh, it was that bad? ..... oh.

He carries guilt for every painful repercussion you experience. It was shame, and now it looks more like remorseful responsibility, but he doesn't need it rubbed in his face to know it was wrong

What he also knows is a valuable lesson you taught him, which is both the importance and possibility of making things right

You will never have a nightmare he won't be ready to comfort you for. You will never have an injury he won't be getting his clothes dirty for treating it. You will always, always have him by your side

[emelinstriker]

{Eternal Servants AU} Wukong & Macaque ♡ Obedience

Art drawn by me + the OC is mine... Also the mentioned OCs and the AU itself.

My LMK AU's first ever fic, lezgooo- :D

This one's mainly just showing off the relationship between the monkeys as well as the Reader. The AU actually does feature some input from that one OC group of mine, even if they mostly operate in the background. Some of them do occasionally show up. It wouldn't be one of my universes if they had no input since they're all connected by this group of individuals... A good example would be CM from Castle's Pet, if any of my ancient old Quotev/Wattpad Undertale X Reader fans are reading this.

[TL;DR] Just your monkeys being wholesome while murdering another demon.

♡ ~ Fluff ~ ♡

Seated on your throne, you sighed as you waited for your purple champion's return. You sent out Macaque to retrieve an ancient artifact a demon stole from your palace's storage. Usually it wouldn't take him long to hunt someone down. After all, he was used to tracking down any that would oppose you and would bring them to justice. However, something must've happened since he obviously wasn't back yet. This was highly unusual for either one of your champions.

'Did he get into an accident?', you thought to yourself, now getting worried.

Your blue champion seemed to notice your sudden change in mood. He didn't even need to feel it through your eternal bond, he could just tell by looking at your concerned expression. He leaned down a bit as he obediently stood next to your throne, looking at you with his void black eyes. "Master, is something bothering you?"

You turned your head a bit to look at him. "It's just... Where's Macaque?"

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure whether or not he's still occupied with the thief." He responded flatly with little to no emotion. You hummed in thought for a moment before you turned to face him again.

"Wukong, I want you to check up on your brother... Help him if he needs help, but at least just make sure he's not hurt or anything." You said firmly. The monkey in blue moved in front of you and bowed.

"As you wish, Master."

And with that, he summoned his somersault cloud and hopped onto it before swiftly flying off into the direction of where his sworn brother left to hunt down the thief.

Across the land, a giant smoke monster could be seen fighting a giant demon in green and black. It seemed like a tough battle as the demon the monster was fighting was very aggressive and wild in its attacks. When suddenly, a blunt hit to the back of the green and black demon slammed the demon in green and black face-first into the ground of the clearing they were fighting in. Its body created a giant crater. It was still alive, but just barely as it laid there motionless. It seemed like the battle already weakened it and the blow to the back was too much for it to handle.

The simian piloting the giant smoke monster panted a bit from exhaustion as he smiled darkly at the fallen demon. But then he turned towards the direction of his ginger-furred brother, who was standing on his cloud with crossed arms, and huffed. "Thanks, but I could've taken him down on my own. It just would've taken a bit."

"Master told me to make sure you weren't hurt." Wukong stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

Macaque's smile turned from maniac to apologetic as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, with his giant smoke avatar mirroring his motion. "Oh man, did I take too long again? I didn't mean to make them worry... I just kinda got caught up with stopping the thief. He used the artifact he stole and it turned him into a feral titan." He added as the giant smoke monster gestured towards the other demon on the ground. That's when the monkey on the cloud quickly zoomed down towards the unconscious demon's body. It took him a few seconds, but he quickly spotted the artifact hanging from the titan's satchel. After he took it away from the giant demon, the demon's body seemingly shrunk back to its original size, still unconscious in the ginormous crater. The simian carefully held onto the artifact, as to not accidentally trigger its power, before his cloud flew back to his sworn brother. After Macaque saw the other demon's now normal-sized body, his smoke monster avatar disappeared around him as he stretched with his feet now touching the ground again.

He grinned at the ginger-furred monkey, seeing him hold the artifact the thief stole. "Guess now we also know what thing does... Did Master say anything about wanting us to kill the guy, or to place him in the punishment wing?"

Wukong shook his head in response, his face still not holding any emotion. Macaque sighed. "Well, damn... But I guess we might as well end him now than risk having him try to steal again, right?" He chuckled as he slowly walked towards the unconscious demon's body. The dark-furred monkey gave the demon a wicked grin, not expecting a response as he summoned his shadow staff. "Nothing personal, dude. Just making sure our beloved Master is forever safe and comfortable! Any who are at risk of opposing them in any way must be eliminated..."

And with that, he smashed his staff's thorny end down onto the demon's head, ending his life with one last strike. Wukong just gave the corpse a bored look before he uncrossed his arms. "Do you need a ride back?" The Monkey King asked, referring to Macaque's exhaustion after battle. He could just help the other monkey relax and calm down with his somersault cloud, after all.

However, Macaque just waved his hand dismissively as he took a deep breath. "Nah, but thanks. I'm a bit tired, but not enough to stop me from using my powers. Do you want a ride back though?" He grinned before he summoned a shadow portal on the ground next to himself. Wukong's mouth just faintly twitches upwards for a split second, but it was enough to make his the dark-furred simian chuckle in repsonse. "C'mooon, bud~ We both know my method's faster! Just hop in already!" If Wukong's eyes weren't like a fully black void, his playful eyeroll would've been very much noticeable. He hopped off his cloud, letting it disappear as he approached the portal, straight up jumping into it. Macaque soon followed after, closing the portal once he went through.

On the other side, you anxiously waited on your throne. While you didn't think any of your regular servants would harm you, you still felt a bit uncomfortable without at least one of your champions around. After all, a human ruling over an army of demons wasn't exactly a common thing demons respected. Only those who were already your servants in other lives would respect you fully... probably. And you had no recollection of any of your previous lives.

Your anxiety faded however once your two blue and purple champions emerged from a shadow portal in front of your throne. The sworn brothers didn't hesitate and kneeled upon seeing you.

"Apologies for the wait and for worrying you, Master. The thief ended up using the artifact and I ended up having to fight him to stop him." Macaque says, somewhat sounding ashamed of himself. He didn't like it whenever he didn't meet his Master's expectations. Even if something was out of his control.

You smiled softly as you leaned back. "It's fine, Mac-Mac. It was inevitable if that guy refused to face justice... I'm just glad you're alright and came back to me alive and well." The simian's frown turned into a bright smile as his tail swayed happily behind him. If you used that nickname for him, then he must've done everything right!

Afterwards, you smiled at your blue champion. "Thanks for finding him and taking him home again, Wu-Wu. Great job." You praised him. Now his tail was also swaying more happily. He nodded his head and grunted quietly in acknowledgement. Despite him not talking quite as much as his brother, and usually not showing emotions, you knew he was just as happy and content as your purple champion. His gentle tail sways were enough to understand.

The ginger-furred monkey then pulled out the artifact from underneath his cloaked side, still kneeling as he stared at you expectantly. "Shall I return this to the storage? The Archivist wanted to check on the items later today."

You scratched your head in thought for a moment as you hummed. "Guess that would be the best idea... If the Archivist shows up, then it's best if we have all the items that we borrowed... I don't wanna deal with his colleagues again, to be honest." You admitted, physically cringing a bit at the memory of your last encounter with the group the Archivist was involved in. They weren't happy when an eternal branding iron you used on your servants was stolen. Especially the Judge...

Wukong, knowing what you meant, nodded again as he stood up and bowed his head. "Of course, Master." Then he turned and walked away towards the palace's storage. Meanwhile, Macaque continued to smile brightly at you.

"Do you have another task for me to complete as well, Master?" He asked, eager to follow your every command like an obedient puppy. You hummed in thought again, but before you could respond, you heard the familiar voice of a certain mysterious figure in a black cloak and a fox-like mask...

"They do not. I have a task for you instead, Six-Eared Macaque."

The cloaked entity with the fox mask revealed himself as he walked out from behind your throne... When did he get here? Then again, he was one of the Archivist's colleagues, so you didn't question much anymore due to all they were able to do... You raised a suspicious eyebrow at the masked entity as you spoke. "...What task?" Those cloaked beings weren't to be trusted with how they operated. And while the Oracle usually spoke of the truth and was one of the more gentle-sounding members, you could never be sure whether or not there was malice behind anything their group did.

He responded in a blank tone, as if it were obvious. "The task involves going to the Underworld and retrieving the Scroll of Memory." Macaque visibly flinched slightly as one of his ears twitched at the mention of the Underworld, yet he avoided eye contact and remained quiet. The masked entity continued. "It's not the scroll itself that you might be interested in, but rather the curse that is bound to the scroll. That curse would be an extremely great addition to your palace's security." The entity added.

You grimaced a bit in thought, looking at him with uncertainty as you propped up your head on your hand. "Mhm... Are you sure this is worth it? Macaque isn't exactly fond of the Underworld, and I don't wanna make any of my servants, especially my champions, uncomfortable... Maybe Wukong could-" "NO!" Your purple champion suddenly cut you off as he looked at you, his void black eyes were wide open in panic, practically begging you to hear him out. He coughed awkwardly before bowing his head in a bit of shame and embarrassment for cutting you off.

"M-My apologies for interrupting you, Master... But I'd like to take on this mission myself, if I may." He said firmly, determination clear on his face as he tried to avoid this uncomfortable feeling of having to return to the Underworld. But he really wanted to prove himself worthy as one of your champions. He outwardly expressed his love and devotion towards you so much more than his sworn brother, and yet Wukong usually ended up getting more missions than him despite that.

You gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure? I know you don't like the Underworld after... Well, you know..."

He nodded his head without hesitation. "Yes, Master. Please let me retrieve that scroll for you."

After another short moment of uncertainty, you sighed in defeat. You stood up and moved towards your purple champion, petting his fluffy head. "Alright, fine... But if anything makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, I want you to just come back... Okay? I don't want you to get hurt, Mac-Mac. I'd rather have you here with me without that scroll than have the scroll without you." You said softly as you kissed his forehead. The dark-furred monkey blushed as his breath hitched at your touch and words.

That was all the motivation he needed.

His bright smile returned as he joyfully saluted. "Yes, Master! I'll make you proud!" You chuckled at his sudden eagerness. Almost immediately, a shadow portal opened up beneath the simian as he dropped into it, vanishing. Upon the closing of the portal, you raised an eyebrow at the Oracle.

"...Is this scroll really necessary?" You asked quietly, to which the entity silently nodded. You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"It's not just for your safety, Your Majesty. It's also required to garner enough attention for the future paths to be connected to the present path." He responded flatly, which confused you. But again, you didn't question his words due to his occupation. And soon enough, Wukong returned from the storage. The monkey in blue walked up to you and bowed, as if to say he had finished his task.

You petted him as well, also kissing his forehead with a little smile. "Good job, Wu-Wu." And just like his sworn brother, his tail started to sway in a happy daze as he blushed despite his still expressionless face. He clearly also loved it when you called him by that nickname. The Oracle, upon seeing the Monkey King return and being showered in affection, quickly bid you farewell for now as he still seemed to be busy with other matters. Meanwhile, you continued to pet the ginger-furred monkey, waiting for his brother again. You even decided to continue petting him while your were seated on your throne.

However, at some point while petting your blue champion, a thought crossed your mind...

"Wu-Wu... If your brother isn't back within the next three hours, I want you to go look for him in the Underworld... And help him out if need be." Wukong's eyes were closed as he leaned into your gentle, addictive touch, while his tail swayed slowly behind him. He simply nodded without opening his eyes.

"Understood, Master."

[ Masterlist ]

[stormsthatrage]

Concept: Time-traveling Shinji, whose consciousness took over his younger body, press-ganging the young captain Urahara Kisuke into visoring the other Visored ahead of schedule.

Because the Visored are pack. They're fraccion. And that means they don't live without each other, damn it. Their bond is sacred, soul-deep, and not a single one of them wouldn't fight tooth-and-nail, wouldn't commit atrocities, to fix its severing.

So Shinji, upon arriving in the past, immediately hits up Kisuke. Shinji, of course, has spent enough time with the younger captain to know exactly how to convince him of the truth of the Aizen-induced apocalypse. (Aizenocalypse? Anyway.) Shinji also knows how to emphasize the increased power that comes from being Visored, and how necessary that type of power is in fighting Sosuke Aizen.

So poor Kisuke, under immense pressure from Shinji, finds himself luring various captains and lieutenants into his lab, one by one, over a period of a few weeks, to corrupt their soul. He feels like he's become some sort of horror story villain.

(Shinji does not tell him that, in the future-that-won't-be, Kisuke was framed for doing exactly what he's currently actually doing.)

As soon as each victim is visored, the fraccion-bond snaps into place with those that have already been visored. After a minor initial freak-out, they each quickly find themselves over the deception, agreeing that it was the right choice.

They also all get vague memories and emotional impressions from their future selves, thanks to the traces their future selves left on Shinji's spiritual energy. This has two effects. First, their control over their hollow powers is instinctual, as they essentially have the experience of their future selves. Second, they have a sudden and deep closeness to each other that is impossible to hide from outsiders.

Imagine. One by one, they go down to Kisuke's lab, and resurface with a personality change and a new and powerful ability to give the heebie-jeebies.

Kisuke is pulling his hair out at how suspicious it looks, and how utterly insane his life has gotten.

Also. All of the Visored seem to hover, and he doesn't know why? Before he violated their souls, they were all at best indifferent to him and at worst subtly hostile, and now suddenly they're all very concerned if he's eaten enough or if he's gotten enough sleep? They take turns bringing him meals and forcing him to go home at the end of the day? Instead of, you know, cursing his very existence?????

(What he doesn't know is this: In the future, he was pack, too, even if he wasn't Visored. He stabilized them, and then he and Yoruichi and Tessai -- who were all so young -- took them in at great personal cost. And then those three spent years looking after the Visored, even when none of the Visored knew control and were all wild and rabid and dangerous.

Of course the Visored hover. Of course they worry. Of course they're slightly possessive of their packmate who has no future-memories and doesn't know he's pack.)

Anyway. Imagine the outsider POV. Imagine Kisuke's slow descent into hysteria as he finds himself playing the role of horror-movie villain. Imagine half the upper echelon of the Gotei 13 hiding the fact that they're part hollow. Imagine...

[mirensiart]

I LOVE your pain sharing au!!! How would Malon react? How would Mipha's grace work(if she's still with Wild)?

Aaah thank you anon!!!!

I feel like malon is like, so used to Time's weird shenanigans nothing really surprises her anymore, she would absolutely give them the scolding of their lives and spend like an hour making sure they understand that they have to stop being self sacrificing idiots cause now they're all connected lol

We've talked about Mipha's grace before, but basically if wild dies from say falling off a cliff (happened so much in my botw playthrough lol) everyone would feel the pain of like broken bones and whatnot and then nothing cause like, wild is dead the pain can't be transferred anymore

Cue a full blown blast of emotional pain cause like the guys would probably grieve

And then mipha's grace happens, wild stands up like if nothing happened and is all like "lmao sorry"

And then everyone feels the pain of a hit of the head cause twilight would absolutely hit him for making them all worry lol

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Frank is Pisces

I made a thread for this theory on TSBS Discord server and it blew up (it blew up so much more than I ever thought it would, like Jesus Christ. I'm super happy about it though). I figured that since I moved all my canon info stuff over here from the server, I might as well move my theory stuff over too

Long post warning, since there's a lot here. A lot of this exists because I was possessed by my adhd demon one night, noticed something about Frank, and then ran wild with it

(Last two pictures are part of a chart that SqarletGecko made for this theory. If Sqarlet sees this at any point, hi, hello! I appreciate you for feeding into this, Sqarlet)

There will be more images tacked on later. I'd add them now, but unfortunately, there's a 10 picture limit to posts. As stupid as that is. ANYWAY

Frank’s strong enough to kill two different witherstorms. Although him outright killing them was never verified, it was one of the only ways he could’ve come back so soon. The only other way would’ve been to wait by the portal, but assuming Moon would’ve closed it off due to the dimensions that Frank was in housing witherstorms, Frank would’ve had to find another way out

His name is neither Frank nor Forkface, so it’s entirely possible that it could be Pisces

Sqarlet pointed out that Castor said “Pisces is probably off doing his own thing”, which could be anything, and it certainly doesn’t preclude Pisces being on earth as Frank, doing whatever he’s been doing

In the “Lunar Gets Friendzoned” vrchat episode, Castor mentions Pisces again, this time saying (in reference to how Lunar’s “final test” would go, and how someone would be sent to judge his ability to control his powers) “Could be Nebula, could be Libra. Could be Pisces, but I doubt that. Hell, it could even be Taurus.” This is the second time Castor’s mentioned Pisces, as if he doesn’t have a whopping 10 other signs he could pull names from (minus Gemini and Pisces, obviously). This could be a case of simply sticking to a smaller pool out of the 12 names, but still

Castor has mentioned Pisces offhandedly two different times. Yeah, there could be a really simple explanation for that, but it sticks out to me, and I can't pinpoint why

During an Uno video, they did a “one breath for yes, two for no” thing with Frank, and he confirmed that he had a bad past. Given some of the things that Castor has said about Taurus, it’s a possibility that Frank/Pisces was trying to get away from him. Some other Pisces traits are that they’re supposed to be super empathetic and deeply emotional. If Taurus said or did something that impacted Frank/Pisces enough, he could’ve chosen to leave

For a while, Frank didn’t seem to react much when people acted scared of him, but as he’s spent more time with the channels, he’s developing more emotionally, which would make sense if he was younger. According to a google search I ran, “Pisces emotional sensitivity is high, helping them to remain in tune with others also leaving them vulnerable to criticism, worrying about about the effects that their actions might have on others,” which could explain why he acted so sad when he briefly appeared in the lobby in an FFFS episode and everyone acted scared of him

Pisces has a heightened emotional sensitivity, they're very in tune with the emotions of those around them, and this in turn makes them worry about how others might react to them

In another Uno video, Foxy made a lighthearted comment to Frank about how he reminded him of his son, since he has a habit of inserting himself into situations and things. There are other characters who do this too, meaning that Foxy could’ve compared Frank to literally anyone, and yet, he chose a character that’s a child. If Frank is Pisces, he’d be the youngest of the astral bodies

If you watch him, Frank does have some childlike mannerisms and behaviors. The first thing is the way he sometimes wants to show someone something, but then gets upset when they touch it. It’s like when a kid gets a new toy and shows their friend, but then gets upset when their friends tries playing with it because it’s theirs. The second thing is him apparently drawing on the wall underneath Earth’s bed. Drawing on walls is something that kids do. The third thing is him trying to feed Earth a piece of pizza. Kids will sometimes try to feed people too, though it’s typically only with people they’re close with, that they know pretty well

If Frank is Pisces and therefore the youngest of the astral bodies, there’s a chance that he chose to show up in the daycare because he knows it’s a safe place for kids, and that there are good caretakers there (Sun, Moon, Earth, and Lunar). He could’ve chosen a daycare attendant-esque form to blend in better with the daycare environment, or he could’ve copied what he saw of the caretakers there, much like how kids copy the adults they see

Pisces is the youngest of the astral bodies, so everything that Frank does that seems like something a kid might do,, could sort of tie in with that. Frank has seemed to somewhat mature and "grow up" in a sense as of recently though, so these childlike habits and behaviors have begun to become rarer and rarer

Pisces has ties to illusions, dreams, and the subconscious. This could explain the times when Frank appeared in both Monty and Earth’s dreams, and then dragged the Stitchwraith into his own mind. In the case of Monty’s dream, Frank knew that they’d had problems with their dad and he’d even offered to be their listening ear, so seeing the shape Monty was in emotionally and mentally after their dad died, Frank may have guided them to an image of their dad to try to promote a form of closure and emotional healing and recovery before Monty woke up (did I mention that being a healer is also a Pisces trait?). He was silent in the dream, so Monty’s mind couldn't have heard his signature heavy breathing and did something funky with that. In Earth’s case, Frank somehow knew that she was having a nightmare and he came to wake her up, repeatedly saying “no fear”, as if he was telling her not to be afraid. With the Stitchwraith, the Stitchwraith wasn’t aware that he’d been pulled into his own mind. Frank didn’t confirm that he was until he told the Stitchwraith that “It’s just a bad dream, a nightmare”, and told him to wake up

More Pisces traits are wanting to help people and being a healer. Adding in the ties to illusions, dreams, and the subconscious, I feel like creating dreams to help people recover from things wouldn't be too farfetched. In the case of Earth, Frank knew she was having a nightmare and wanted to wake her up so that she wouldn't be scared anymore. To this day, I have no way to explain how he could've possibly known about her having a nightmare, aside from sensing her distress and/or having some kind of connection to her subconscious

I found a snippet of an article that said “When we meet Pisces, we are taken aback by their remote coldness; they often act like confused geniuses or oddballs who have trouble interacting with others.” It’s confirmed that Frank is highly intelligent; he somehow knew how to get into Moon’s computer and registered himself as the primary user, and he somehow swiped Foxy’s voicebox and installed it in himself, then took it back out and reinstalled it in Foxy. Frank is also an oddball, but I don’t really need to explain that one

Frank has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t like Ruin. He’s had many opportunities to take him out or even just attack him, but he hasn’t. Castor has stated that astral bodies typically don’t get involved with things or associate with people unless they really need to. If Frank is Pisces, he may have avoided going after Ruin because it’d go against the rules

There are some mixed messages on whether or not Pisces is a rule follower, but a couple things I found that stuck out to me implied that sometimes they follow the rules, and sometimes they do whatever they want as long as they’re satisfied. We were given a glimpse of this with Frank when Lunar tried to run him over with a car in a vrchat episode. Frank didn’t seem to care as much about the fact that he was nearly run over, and instead, became agitated with Lunar for parking incorrectly. He also made Lunar get in his car, and then proceeded to move it out of the alley and to the drive thru, where Lunar was supposed to be anyways. He might’ve also reacted poorly to Monty and Earth bringing a goose into the restaurant they were in, since animals don’t belong there. Beyond that, Frank’s also gotten upset with Sun and tried to menacingly follow him around the room when Sun cheated during a game of Uno, showing that he doesn’t like cheaters

Frank seems to have a knack for interrupting people’s dates. Most of the time, he’s trying to help but doesn’t seem to grasp that his behavior might be making people uncomfortable, BUT according to google, the Pisces sign is known for being jealous of other people’s love lives. After the death of Ruined Monty, Frank may have started to feel a little jealous of others

According to google, “most Pisceans are very good at earning a stable living,” and “they are usually very effective in any career that needs collaboration with others or inventiveness.” It’s been stated before that Frank works in at least three different restaurants, and a restaurant type environment would require collaboration with others to keep everything running smoothly. He’d be earning good money from those three restaurant jobs, and another Pisces trait is wanting to help people, so working in a restaurant would be a way for him to do that

Strengths of Pisces would include being selfless and thoughtful, passionate and creative, gratitude and self-sacrifice, tolerance and a keen understanding, and being kind and sympathetic. Weaknesses of Pisces include being influenced by their surroundings, being careless, rash, and ill-disciplined, having an inability to confront reality due to an absence of confidence, being insecure, sentimentalism, indecisiveness, and a lack of foresight. These are all from a chart I found, and although I don’t think we’ve seen too many of these weaknesses in Frank yet, we’ve definitely seen a lot of the strengths

We have no idea where Frank was before he first showed up at the daycare. Fazbear apparently had him shipped in to replace Moon, but with how easily he got into Moon’s computer, it wouldn’t be too farfetched to assume that he could’ve possibly also hopped onto a different device and sent a fake email, posing as Fazbears to keep people from asking too many questions about why he’s there

Like Sqarlet has said, we’ve noticed a pattern of astral signs following the usual astrological descriptions, but it’s not necessarily a rule, nor is it to a T. It’s very possible that Frank mostly follows the general tendencies of Pisces, but still has individual quirks and such that are different. It could be a case where perfectionism or a preference for rule-following/organization is just a lil personal thing of his, unrelated to astrology

Another thing suggested by Sqarlet is that the Pisces dealio might explain why Frank’s general choice of appearance is generally uncanny/unsettling. Astral bodies don’t necessarily have a spectacular grasp on how to Aesthetic effectively, at least from an earthling’s perspective

Eclipse once used star power to get into Puppet’s dreamscape, when Puppet was on his way to get Lunar. If star power is what makes dreamscape stuff possible, then Frank would need access to it in order to do the same (see: all the dream stuff he did with Monty and him showing up in Stitchwraith’s dreamscape)

Whenever Frank appears, whoever he appears around is usually experiencing a negative emotion of some sort. Some instances of this can be seen when he showed up and tried to talk to Monty after Monty had a fight with their dad and was frustrated, when Earth and Sun were worrying about Lunar when Lunar lost his voice, when Sun got turned into a dragon and was panicking, and when Earth had a nightmare and was freaking out over it

Foxy’s implied that Frank was probably trying his best to be helpful, during all the dates that he unintentionally ruined. Which… means that although Frank is trying his best to be helpful, he might not understand what “normal” behavior looks like, then he messes up, and then he gets upset when people misunderstand him and his intentions, or when whatever he’s doing ends up backfiring in some way. Pisces’ loves to help others and can’t stand being misunderstood, so this lines up beautifully

During a podcast episode, Frank breathed heavier when Castor and Pollux were mentioned, implying that he may know them. Given how he even attempted to speak again, he likely had some kind of thoughts or feelings toward them, too

The astral bodies are typically aware of almost everything that happens. This might explain how Frank (if he’s Pisces) knew that Foxy would be alone on Christmas. It was only Foxy, Freddy, and Francine present when the Stitchwraith took FC, so unless Frank was spying on everyone or has taken to watching the channels like Ruin apparently does, he shouldn’t know what happened

If the Foxy’s Intervention episode is anything to go by, no one ever knows where Frank is, and yet, he still knows where he’s needed and goes there to help

With the way that Pisces deals with illusions just as much as dreams and the subconscious, it’s possible that the Frank that the Stitchwaith saw was just an illusion. This could explain why Frank wasn’t hit by Stitchwraith’s weird chest laser thing (unless he quickly teleported out of the way), and why we never saw him go up to the Stithwraith and try pushing him around or anything, despite how Frank was acting toward him. We’ve seen Frank physically interact with people before, so we know he can, but if he was an illusion, that wouldn’t be possible

Something else to consider that I haven't shared with the theory thread yet (that I can remember) is that when Pisces feels hurt or betrayed in any way, they can be incredibly vengeful. Their vengeance, according to a search I ran, could be intense enough to break trust and damage relationships, if they're not careful. In killing ruined Monty, Bloodmoon may have unknowingly made Frank feel so deeply hurt that Frank has now decided that he needs to get revenge on him. He kept saying things during their encounter that made it feel like he may be entertaining the idea of getting rid of one of the twins, which... follows a very "you took away someone who meant the world to me, let's see what happens when I do it to you" sort of logic

[thebearer]

Okay, I feel like Teddy would have broken bones throughout her childhood for sure. But like, imagine Carmy and reader being so worried when Teddy gets hurt each time, and like the one time when she breaks or injures something and she needs to have surgery for it how freaked they are about it and like Tina, and Richie and everyone is there waiting for her. And Teddy would totally beg Marcus to make her all the desserts for her while she recovers. Thanks! I got a little carried away, lol.

i feel like teddy, yes. like ofc she's accident prone (she's literally just a ball of energy lol) but imagine this... it's willow.

like willow is so calm and sweet, but she's so clumsy too. and for some reasons she's always the one getting hurt. mainly bc teddy is so rough with her, not even intentionally, like she's just more fearless and wild.

they're jumping on the trampoline, and teddy is going absolutely insane bc a trampoline??? fuck yeah. and she's bouncing with little four year old willow, who's trying to keep up but her sister (in classic older sister style) has double bounced her like seven times. there's a net and you're watching, warning teddy each time she gets too wild, but then it happens- in seemingly slow motion.

teddy bounces willow, who flies for a second, before falling back on her side, extending her arm to brace her fall. you hear the pop! and then a shuddered breath before willow is wailing, her arm hanging by her side, bone sticking against the skin.

you're nearly lightheaded, screaming for carmen, trying to get willow off the trampoline carefully. teddy is scared to death, of course, and is sobbing too. and carmen is so overwhelmed, walking out frantically to your scared tone and two sobbing babies.

you spend your night and most of the morning in the er, each holding a crying child trying to console them. they tell you willow's break was bad and she'll need surgery, which makes you want to cry now too. carmen looks like he might genuinely pass out because the thought of his baby going to surgery???? he's horrified. needs his emotional support pepto asap.

they get her in pretty easily, and your family and friends (most from the bear) come to see her, bring her gifts and things afterwards. willow is terrified, bright eyes just wide and skittish when they tell her she's going to take a nap and come back with a cast.

carmen opts to be the parent in the waiting room, agreeing to follow all the procedures just to keep her calm until they get her under because willow would not go back there without him.

you're smothering her face in kisses. "daddy's gonna go with you, and he'll be with you the whole time, wills." you coo, smoothing a hand down her hair. "you'll get a pretty blue cast on, and then me and teddy and everyone can sign it for you. and marcus will bring you cupcakes. how's that sound?"

willow is sniffling, shuddering breaths that have your heart breaking but agrees. carmen hugs you and teddy good bye before going with them.

you're thankful richie is there, a sentence you never thought you'd say. your thankful he brought eva to keep teddy distracted, and that he could talk to a fucking brick wall if he had to. thankful he was there to keep you distracted so you didn't keep checking the time.

willow comes back, still asleep, all bandaged and wrapped up in a sling. carmen looks like he might need to throw up, which he does, but he's relieved.

willow spends the next night in the hospital, surrounded by toys and balloons and flowers- and of course, marcus brings her cupcakes.

she gets her cast eventually, and carmen draws on it for her with a sharpie. it wasn't very good, in his opinion, a little difficult to sketch with the cast material and a sharpie but willow seems to love it. giggles loudly when he shows her the various animals he'd drawn for her.

teddy enjoys it too. especially because with the influx of "get well soon" toys, she gets to play with them too. opting to "help" willow, of course, since her arm was broken. willow doesn't seem to mind, playing with her free hand with her sister, and you're just happy she's feeling better.

[riddles-fiddles]

Octavinelle boys with a pregnant S/O

Synopsis: I'm dealing with terrible baby ferver so I need to get this out of my system. Headcanons to how the boys react to your pregnancy all thorough the months (part 2) Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Floyd Leech, Jade Leech Tags: SFW, fluff, domestic fluff Notes: AFAB gender neutral reader, cw pregnancy and birth

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

⁀➷ Azul Ashengrotto — make sure to give him the good news while the man is safely sitting down, or else you'll see him go weak on his knees. Azul prides himself on his collected demeanor and carefully woven expressions - vital skills for his business-oriented persona - but then he is inevitably crumbling down, staring at the positive pregnancy test wide-eyed, struggling to find something clever to say. His mind is racing wild but no rational thoughts are able to fall from his lips, so all he can muster is a very low, shaky "I am… going to be a father?"

Give him some time to digest the news and you'll be met by a very gentle, tender hug from the octomer. Azul is both thrilled and terrified of this new chapter of your shared life; he longed to achieve the same kind of love his mother and step-father shared with each other, to be cared for and desired in such a selfless and devotional way, inspired by the way their love reflected upon his own upbringing. On the other hand, however, his insecuriities threatened to surface once again, doubts and ghosts from the past whispering wicked lies about his worth as a future parent. He doesn't want to fail on you and the child, as a partner or a father, and though he's equally worried about the emotional aspect of parenthood, he sticks to the importance of material goods - they're more on his comfort lane and he does it flawless to ensure your growing family can have everything of need.

(Please leash him while shopping for nursery furniture or else he'll make the baby's room a monochrome nightmare)

Azul showers you with gifts almost everyday: jewels, clothes, accessories… anything he knows you like or make any minimal comments about, being his way of showing how much he loves and cares for you, and as you progress through the stages, he takes more leaves from Mostro Lounge. He loves his work, but you are the lighthouse of his life, the one he cherishes and clings to on stormy or bright days, and the pregnancy only fueled his sense of loyalty and sincerity to you. His cafe actually comes in handy when the cravings start, and Azul isn't even an ounce ashamed to take advantage of the students working under his contracts to request them to make whatever you hunger for, though it was a surprise at first to discover about that particular characteristic of human pregnancy; he was amused nonetheless, but then he will be more careful when handing your requests. He's a very attentive partner, though it could be hard for him to express all the emotions that bubbles within his chest, sometimes too worried about being 'too emotional', scared to say something and make himself a complete fool. He kneads the stress away from your body with careful fingers and helps you out on regular tasks - shampoo your hair, put your shoes on, change clothes.

When the big day finally comes, Azul is already set and ready to go. Fret not, for the darling octo-mer has picked only the best, comfiest and quietest room for the delivery with only the best nurses on the hospital and has already set a very special menu for you to indulge in after all your hard work. But suddenly he is panicking, the danger of human birth finally sinking in as he watches the way you writhe and sob on the bed, but he can't do much but hold your hands tightly and hope for the best as the nurses help you around. When his baby is finally placed over his arms and Azul gazes upon the serene features of the tiny bean, all his terrors and doubts melt away, exhaling out a sigh of relieve and renewed joy - Azul realizes he's madly in love with you and the frail life that lays withing his grasp. He understands that there's no need for him to be perfect, either.

⁀➷ Floyd Leech — very excited from the idea of having a mini Floyd running around the house, a pocket-sized partner in crime, but to expect he would be an exceptional partner is, unfortunately, wrong. Floyd is very complex and his emotions are hard to keep controlled, and now that you are pregnant, he becomes somewhat more intense because of your own hormones and the anxiety of parenthood gripping on his neck. He does tries his best to get his moods in check, though - he doesn't want you to be stressing over him, knowing how dangerous it could be, so whenever he feels like his mood is about to change drastically, he walks away to take a breath. Things can turn into quite a ruckus if you end up experiencing those annoying changes at the same time though, as Floyd struggles to understand why you're snapping at him all of a sudden when he was just asking you something. Jade helps him understand that you're extremely hormonal and how it affects your humor and helps you keep his brother's own on check.

He's a lot more possessive and protective of you now, if not clingier. Floyd will be wrapping his arms around your figure any chance he gets, and when in public he'll always be intertwining your fingers together or holding you by the waist, getting annoyed every time someone comes asking to touch your bump - "I'm the only one who should be allowed to touch my Shrimpy's belly! Strangers have no bussiness being so close to you." Going to the doctor is always amusing because that's the moment Floyd looks the most concentrated than you can ever remember. Human pregnancy is something so new and weird for him, he's totally enthralled; what do you mean you don't lay eggs? Oh, you're just like a whale! How fun! Though he is entertained from all the information he's learning, Floyd is lowkey terrified of the birthing process (he's flabbergasted to know human babies can come out the size of a small watermelon), but he does his best to calm you down, and if you'd prefer to get a c-section, then he'll totally support you! During the preparations for the baby's room, Floyd will prefer to decorate it with ocean-themed stuff, having a blast with the assorted toys you two have bought and you're worried he might be more excited with them than your child. You know that one meme of the dad stealing the kid's tricycle? Yeah, that's him.

The delivering day comes, and Floyd is a whirlwind. He's more scared than you and it shows, no more jokes or smart remarks to try and hide his desperation, only panic, and you need to calm him down, even though he's not the one dealing with hellish contractions. Also, for the love of all Sevens, do not allow him to drive. Once you two get in the hospital, Floyd makes use of scary eel privilege to swiftly arrange a delivery room for you and suddenly almost all the nurse staff is mobilized to take care of you. Floyd can't bear the idea of leaving you alone not for even a minute, so despite the recommendations, he'll sit through hours by your side even if he's tense and stiff, holding your hand tightly. Bless the nurses who'll be helping you, because they'll have to deal with Floyd going through all the emotions known to man. Don't worry though, once he knows his shrimpy and little fry are safe and healthy, he'll turn back to the usual easy-going happy Floyd.

⁀➷ Jade Leech — Jade is surprised to receive the news. Similar to Azul, he does have a bit of knowledge about human's particularities and biology, but he wasn't expecting for you two to be compatible, especially since he's a much more 'feral' kind of merman. Nonetheless, he's happy with the prospect of growing a loving family with you... though by the progression of months, he grows the most worried. He's relieved to see the way you glow, how you seem healthy, but intrusive thoughts sometimes creep on the back of his mind. What if something happens? What if your body rejects the child because of his eel-merman genes? What if— but then you come to him squealing about how you felt the baby's first kick, and suddenly he's relaxing, his heart washed from any lingering fears. He pulls you closer and lays his head on your bump, humming quietly as he feels the baby slowly settling down.

Jade does his own research just to be sure he's doing everything right and what to expect from the significant changes you two are inevitably experiencing, insisting on working out a routine of exams and appointments, always so attentive to every little detail and medical advice. The bad thing is, he strictly follows them, which means you won't be able to snatch something unhealthy for all of your pregnancy; even if you're trying to tiptoe your way to the fridge, Jade somehow knows, he's right there to remind you about 'doctor's orders'. He's got the best of intentions, though he may look too strict. But don't fret! As soon as mama Leech gets word about your pregnancy she's coming to help! Jade actually listens to her tips, recognizing her very valuable experience on the matter and trusting mama knows best. At least you get to eat some cheat food here and there - Jade's shocked and extremely entertained to be taught that humans believe that a baby could be born looking like a certain kind of food if the mother doesn't eat whatever she's craving, and so he indulges you into whatever you ask him to cook. Similar to Floyd, Jade grows more possessive of you, especially when out in public. He dislikes the attention your bump attracts, cautious of ill-intentioned people, so when your belly has grown to it's full glory, Jade gives curious passerbys a piercing cold look while you're not aware, and then carries on to grocery shopping, whispering sweet praises to your ear like the entire mall isn't turning heels as fast as possible the moment they land their eyes on you both.

When the baby's due date comes, Jade is the ever collected and relying gentleman you need. Since he's such a good observer and has kept track of every little thing during your pregnancy - mood swings, body changes, smell and heat - he already has a suspicion you're about to go into labour, so he has prepared everything you might need even before you can shout about your water breaking. It's so endearing how he already looks like a dad - diligently guiding you through the hospital halls, big maternity bags hanging on his shoulders as he coos quietly about how everything is going to be ok, how you're going to be a great parent and how much he loves you. If you ask him to stay with you on the delivery room, he'll gladly let you squeeze his hand into oblivion and look unaffected, watching as you work for hours on end with a ressuring smile and the most sincere devotion on his eyes, totally enthralled by your resilience.

[blackkatmagic]

Gosh seeing prompts from you always makes my week. Great way to start off my first day of this semester! For the clone asks how about Colt?

(Oh, good luck!!! You got this!)

Down in the bowels of the Jedi Temple, deep beneath one of the wild gardens, there's a hot, heavy darkness, cut through with the sound of hammers on metal, and Colt has never been so entranced by anything since the day he was decanted.

It’s possible—probable—that he shouldn’t be down here, shouldn’t have slipped away from the hall outside the Council Chambers while General Ti is in a meeting, but he couldn’t help himself. Blitz and Hammer are up there still, in case she needs them, and Colt was ostensibly walking Havoc to the Halls of Healing to see how the Jedi Healers work, but this place isn't anywhere near the Halls. Colt isn't immediately needed for anything, and that’s a rare experience in the middle of war. Indulging it like this might be wrong, but it’s hard to care when there are shadows of smiths flickering and dancing on the mural-covered walls, like living things entirely apart from the Jedi working the forges.

Colt itches with the need to get closer, to actually see the forging, and he risks a glance over his shoulder, checking that the hallway is still clear, then turns—

Collides, hard, with a body out of armor, and hisses as he’s knocked back a step, his sore shoulder suddenly making itself known again. He snaps a hand up to it, takes another step back to be safe, and says sharply, “What the hell?”

Looking just as startled, Neyo takes a step back as well, then pauses. He raises a brow, gaze sweeping up and down over Colt, and asks, “Why do you look like one of the trainers just caught you in the hanger after lights-out?”

Colt flushes, hot to the tips of his ears. It’s been a long time since he was any sort of cadet—hells, he helped train most of the cadets—and Neyo's not anywhere close to being an Alpha batch clone. The only ones who can give Colt grief are his batchmates.

“Commander,” he says, pointed, and folds his arms over his chest, ignoring the twinge the motion causes. “Know from experience, then?”

Neyo rolls his eyes. “I was with General Windu,” he says, faintly grumpy in a way that’s fully an admission of embarrassment, even if he doesn’t want to show it. “He came down to talk to one of the smiths about supply issues.”

“As you were, then,” Colt says, bland, and Neyo snorts but slides past Colt with the speed of a former trainee trying to avoid having to run extra laps. A little amused, Colt watches him go, then turns back—

Pauses, startled, as something shimmers and catches the light, sliding over his armor like liquid and disappearing beneath the cuff of his blacks.

It seems like a trick of the light, but something feels…uneasy. Colt stares for a second, then strips off his gauntlet with quick motions, finds the cuff of the blacks, and tugs it back as best he can, then stops. Stares, a shiver washing down his spine, at the sight of a spill of pearl-like brilliance sliding down his arm, liquid but still. When he presses his fingertips to it, it feels slick, warm like flesh, with no pain to its presence even though it looks like it’s bonded to his skin.

Something prickles, alarm and a sharper emotion, and Colt turns, catches sight of Neyo just rounding the distant corner. Just a coincidence, maybe, but—

A shadow moves, and Colt turns back sharply, pulse leaping. There’s no one approaching, though, just a door halfway down the hall that’s swung open, copper inlays catching the light and seeming to dance. No one is emerging, and after a second Colt moves forward, not sure if he’s worried that someone could be hurt or simply curious. Rubbing at the pearlescent spill down his arm, he leans in, then pauses.

It's a forge, entirely empty of any Jedi, or the droid professor Colt met in passing. The cryo-furnace is lit, filling the air with heat, and there are tools resting on the anvil, as if they're just waiting for hands to take them up.

Colt curls his fingers around the edge of the door, feeling like there’s a hook behind his ribs, dragging him forward. The want has teeth, and he stares at those tools, at the pile of metal cubes resting beside the forge, a larger one that’s set apart from the rest. He could make something, he thinks, and it’s a little like a surge of madness, a little like a heady rush of joy. He could make a warhammer, or a spear, or an axe. He could create something out of those cold blocks of metal, and it would just take time and effort and skill.

Colt's been a soldier since the moment he was decanted, focused on destroying. The urge to create something is unfamiliar, but desperate.

The first step into the workshop feels forbidden, like he’s breaking the rules. Colt does it anyway, even though rule-breaking is what gets clones decommissioned or sent for reeducation. He’s alone here, though, and when he swings the door shut after himself, it feels like handing the whole universe a dare.

As the lock clicks home, the forge-fire leaps higher, shimmers. For an instant, there are shadows dancing on the walls, not Jedi smiths but something else entirely. Huge figures in armor, in familiar helmets, wielding hammers with an entirely different sort of skill than the Jedi. Colt can almost see them, Human-like but not Human, shadows from somewhere, somewhen else entirely.

One of the shadows turns to look at him, a simian figure with grey skin and yellow eyes that fall to meet Colt's. He’s holding a gravity hammer, slick with the look of pure beskar, and when Colt goes perfectly, breathlessly still, he smiles.

“Grandson,” he says, and it echoes like thunder trapped underground. “Come.”

Colt goes. There's no other option.

(Hours later, Colt wakes to the sound of his comm beeping, missed transmissions flashing red. He stripped off his armor at some point, left it piled at the edge of the work area, and there's a new burn on his arm that he doesn’t remember getting, soot smeared across the bright, shining pearl stitched into his skin.

There's a hammer, too. Something huge and heavy and fit for a Mand'alor to carry, unfamiliar but so deeply known that Colt can feel the shape of it in his bones. His head is spinning, but he takes it up, still warm from the forge, and feels it resonate like a vast roar come down through history, wrapped up inside of him and forgotten for far too long.

The forge-fire is still burning, and there's more metal waiting to be shaped. The warhammer isn't his, but—

Colt made it. Colt made it, and it will find the hands it’s meant for.)

[dirtnapdreamfactory]

Sweetest Sin [Part One]

Content Warnings: Priest Kink, Breeding Kink, Corruption Kink, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female masturbation, Breaking Vows, Abandoned Celibacy, Etc. Etc.

Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 5.5K

[If this work looks familiar to you, it probably is. I originally had it posted to my old account that has since been deleted, so I am reposting it here.]

The grand archway of the cathedral framed Father Astarion Ancunin, his tall figure casting a shadow against the golden light that spilled from within. Despite being a creature of darkness, he had become an integral part of the town of Emberwood, serving as their shepherd of light. His vampiric nature had initially drawn cautious glances, but the townspeople's faith in him seemed to outweigh their fear. They flocked to the cathedral and found solace in his words, a paradox that the elf would have scoffed at decades ago—a vampire spawn preaching salvation.

"Good evening, Father Astarion," Mr. Tiller called out, his voice warm as he passed by with his family. "Your sermon today was truly moving."

"Thank you," Astarion replied, his smile genuine but unable to reach the depths of his crimson eyes. "Peace be with you."

For a quiet moment, the pale elf held up the silver band on his finger to catch the light, marveling at the small miracle that allowed him to walk under the sun. This ring symbolized not just his commitment to his vows, but also to a life he never thought possible. Each day, the weight of his past sins grew lighter as he embraced his newfound purpose with tentative gratitude.

"Father?" A timid voice broke through his reverie.

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Silverleaf." He recognized the couple instantly, their devoutness etched into every line on their faces. "What can I do for you?"

"Your words—they're a balm to our community," The man began, wringing his hat between his work-worn hands. "And…we hate to ask but…well, we've come to ask a favor, if you're willing."

"Of course. Speak freely," The priest encouraged, folding his hands before him in a gesture of openness. 

"It’s our daughter... She strays further each day from the path of righteousness," Mrs. Silverleaf confided, her voice laced with worry. "She has no care for piety or decency."

"Her soul, we fear, is in peril," her husband added, his gaze pleading.

"Would you speak with her, Father?" The woman asked. "Perhaps guide her back to the ways of the faithful?"

The couple's words hung heavy in the air, a weight that Astarion couldn't quite shake off. He knew his duty was to guide and correct those who strayed from the path of righteousness, but the thought of speaking with you, their fierce and free-spirited daughter, filled him with conflicting emotions.

On one hand, he felt a sense of obligation and responsibility towards your soul, which they clearly feared was in jeopardy. But on the other hand, the memory of you tore through his mind like a stormy sea, tempting him with desires he had vowed to renounce.

The request coiled tightly around his heart. The memory of that first night that he had laid eyes upon you surged forward, unbidden and wild. It had been a chance encounter at the tavern, where he had gone to seek solitude among the clamor of tankards and low-burning hearths. You had burst through the door, a vision of ferocious vitality, your presence so startling that even the rowdy din of the establishment had hushed for a brief moment. There you had stood, cloaked in the glory of your conquest—a deer, by the looks of your spoils—and had commanded attention with the ease of one who knew their own power.

"Talia, go fetch Lorrick! And tell the cook to get his shit together, yeah? We're having fuckin' venison tonight!" you’d declared, voice rich with triumph.

Astarion couldn't help but watch you, his eyes tracing the line of sweat that made a glistening path down the column of your neck. Each droplet reflected the light from the hearth, casting a warm glow on your skin. Your soft hair cascaded messily down your back and beckoned his fingers to explore its texture. The sight of you- so raw and vibrant - was like a sharp blade to his senses, breaking through the protective walls he had built around his chastity.

"Father, will you not try?" 

The distant echo of Mrs. Silverleaf's voice pulled Father Astarion back to the present, interrupting his thoughts. He nodded absently, his mind still consumed by the image of your mischievous smirk. Despite his inner turmoil, he affirmed to the couple that he would speak with their daughter, a wave of heat flushing his cheeks at the thought.

"God bless you," Mrs. Silverleaf and her husband intoned together, their sincerity in stark contrast to the hunger gnawing at Astarion's resolve.

"Peace be with you," he replied hollowly, his own words drowned out by the cacophony of conflicting emotions within him.

As the couple disappeared from view, Father Astarion turned back to face the sacred confines of the cathedral. Its cool silence offered no refuge from the heat that still coursed through him, memories of his struggle against temptation flashing through his mind. He had whispered fervent prayers and battled against his desires for flesh and sinew that night at the tavern.

"Forgive me," he muttered to the empty pews, unsure if his words were meant for his deity or for himself. His duty was clear - to meet with the girl and guide her towards the light. But as the sunset painted the stained glass windows in fiery shades of red and gold, Astarion couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to enter a battle for which he may never be fully prepared.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and called upon every ounce of divine strength to fortify his spirit. He would offer counsel to this wayward lamb and do his best to protect her from darkness. But as he locked up the church and began to trudge his way towards your home, nestled at the far edge of town, he couldn't deny the thrill of forbidden excitement coursing through his veins, like a fire burning just beneath his skin. Though he knew that this could prove to be a rather dangerous task, one that could potentially lead him down a path of temptation and ruin...for the sake of your immortal soul, he was willing to take the risk.

The dying embers of the day cast a warm, orange hue over the town as Astarion tread softly along the dirt trail, his boots pressing into the uneven ground scattered with pebbles and twigs. The outskirts where you resided was tranquil, the only sounds were his solitary footsteps and the distant chirping of crickets. He could see your home now, a quaint cottage that seemed to be in a perpetual embrace with the encroaching forest. The air was scented with damp earth and the sweet tang of herbs that hung from an overhang, swaying gently in the evening breeze.

"Ms. Silverleaf, it's Father Astarion," he called with measured calmness, rapping knuckles against the wooden door. His voice felt strangely intrusive in the stillness. "Your mother and father bid me to speak with you."

Silence greeted him, thick and unyielding. He knocked again, a little louder, allowing authority to lace his tone. "Ms. Silverleaf, please. This is a rather important matter."

The quiet persisted, and a frown teased at the edge of his lips. 'Perhaps she is out,' he thought, but something about the soft glow from within your home suggested otherwise. He reached for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. A moment's hesitation lingered like a warning. With a breath to steady himself, he pushed open the door and stepped into the muted warmth of the interior.

"Y/N?" he ventured again, voice barely above a whisper as he closed the door behind him.

Before him, the small fire in the hearth crackled its last dance, casting flickering shadows across the room. Astarion scanned the space, noting the absence of any presence. His gaze fell on the simple furnishings, the homely touches that bespoke a life lived simply yet fully. In that moment, he felt like an intruder in your world, privy to a privacy not his own.

His ears, sharper than most, caught the faintest sound—a rustle, a breath hitched in distress. His dead heart sank. 'Might the girl have injured herself?' The concern edged his thoughts as he moved silently, his steps practiced and light. The noises grew clearer, more defined, and his pace quickened with a mix of worry and something less definable.

"Y/N," he called out softly, reaching the slightly ajar door from behind which the sounds emanated. With the utmost care, he nudged it further open, just enough to allow his eyes to seek out the source of the commotion.

He stood motionless, his hand still resting on the door, as the scene within unfolded before him.

His eyes widened, the crimson depths reflecting a scene of forbidden desire. There in the dimly lit chamber, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desperation, you writhed upon your simple bed—a vision of unbridled sensuality.

"Gods above," he murmured under his breath, unable to tear his gaze from the sight. His voice was a mere whisper, lost amidst the symphony of your pleasure.

Your small fingers danced along the slick folds of your sex, each movement deliberate and hungry. Lustful whines escaped your lips in ragged sighs and your moans pierced Astarion's heart like an arrow. You were yet unaware of his presence, lost in your own world of ecstasy.

"Y/N," he finally managed to say, louder this time, but the plea in his voice was drowned by your cries. You did not hear him, or if you did, you gave no indication, consumed as you were by your own touch.

'Stop,' he thought desperately, 'you mustn't witness this.' But his body betrayed him, rooted to the spot, drinking in the sight of you. The heat that had been kindling within him since he'd first laid eyes on you now blazed uncontrollably.

He watched, transfixed, as your back arched, your breasts rising and falling with each labored breath. The soft mounds were flushed with arousal, your nipples taut and begging for attention. Your other hand alternated between caressing your breast and pinching your rose-colored nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

"Please," you gasped, the word a prayer for release. "I need... I can't..."

Father Astarion felt a surge of protectiveness, intermingled with a darker, hungrier sensation. He knew that he, a man of the cloth, should not be standing there, should not be watching this intimate act of self-pleasure, yet he found himself entranced by your uninhibited display.

"Is this what you seek?" he asked silently, the question for himself more than you. "To be the one to push her over that edge?"

His blood roared in his ears, drowning out the remnants of piety that screamed for him to leave. There was a battle raging within him, between his vows and the yearning to step forward—to replace your hands with his own, to taste the salt on your skin, to hear his name on your lips instead of the silent gods you seemed to be reaching for.

Another whimper, more tortured than the last, pulled him from his daze. He took a half-step backward, the creak of the wooden floorboard underfoot sounding like thunder in the quiet room. Astarion’s throat was dry, his body tense with longing.

"Forgive me," he whispered, turning his face away, though his eyes betrayed him, sliding back for another glimpse that lasted far too long. "Forgive me..."

His breath hitched, a silent witness to the carnal symphony playing out before him. Shadows clung to the corners of the dimly lit chamber as the fading light of day bathed your writhing form in an ethereal glow. Your fingers, slick and unyielding, danced fervently within yourself, your movements both desperate and deliberate. The decadent chorus of your pleasure—a blend of wet, rhythmic sounds—sent involuntary tremors through his body.

"Gods... yes, just like that, please..." Your voice was broken and full of lust, a prayer for release that echoed off the walls.

He swallowed thickly, the taste of his restraint bitter on his tongue. His hands, traitorous and curious, sought the heat beneath his breeches, and he winced at the contact – a touch both foreign and achingly familiar. The sensation clawed at his resolve, tearing at the fabric of his vows.

"Ah... A-Astarion..." you moaned, your voice slowly morphing into a sinful incantation - a desperate plea to the heavens, or perhaps to the depths below. His name rolled off your lips like a sacrilegious mantra, stoking that fire within him into something unbearable.

"Gods above…," he whispered under his breath, a ghost of words lost amid the melody of your solitary passion. Envy gnawed at him, its sharp teeth sinking into his heart as you envisioned another, even if that other bore his visage.

"Please... Fuck - ruin me..." you begged the illusion, your back arching, your body tightly stretched like a bowstring. The priest within him recoiled, but the man, the primal creature lurking beneath the clerical collar, stirred from its slumber.

"Enough," He hissed to himself, his conviction giving way to carnal desire. He could no longer be a mere observer, a passive guardian of sanctity. As you called out for him, in flesh or fantasy, he felt that familiar longing within him awaken. With a growl, he shed his clerical collar and entered the room with purpose. This was no longer a soft tread of uncertainty, but the confident steps of a man who knew what he wanted. You needed him, craved him, and he... he needed this. Gods above, he needed this.

"Ms. Silverleaf," he said louder now, his voice cutting through the haze of your ecstasy.

Your eyes snapped open, bright and piercing, locking onto his deep, vermillion gaze. Your silky hair cascaded around your face as you stilled, your body drawn with anticipation. In that moment, your eyes were a tangle of fire and gold, two stars colliding and igniting a blaze that consumed you both. Your stillness was a bird poised on the edge of a branch, ready to take flight at the slightest movement. And in that moment, the question hung in the air like a forbidden fruit, tempting and dangerous: Which would it be? Salvation or damnation?

"F-Father Astarion," you breathed, a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and something...darker. Something hungry .

The pale elf stood tall and imposing in the dimly lit room, his pastoral leash discarded and forgotten on the floor. The light streamed through the window, catching the soft curls of his silver hair and casting an intimidating glow in his intense eyes. You laid bare before him, a true vision of ethereal beauty - your pleading eyes and wild hair fanned out around you, nearly forming a halo around your glistening, desperate form.

"Tell me, my child," He began, his voice low and steady, "What manner of evil has reduced you to this? A whimpering, sodden mess baring yourself so shamelessly before a man of God?"

"Please, Father...I-I’m so sorry. Please…p-please help me," You whimpered, your voice soft as velvet.

"Of course, child," His voice was a soothing balm, yet it was wrought with an undercurrent of something depraved. "Would you have me guide you in prayer, to cleanse these wicked ideations from your soul?"

Your head shook, a silent bell tolling 'no'. His gaze never left you, sharp and probing as he began to unfasten his shirt, each button relinquishing its hold with deliberate slowness. The pale flesh beneath his priestly attire came into view - his lean, muscular body sending a sharp jolt to your needy cunt.

"Or perhaps," he continued, his tone laced with concern, "you'd prefer I summon the physician? They might concoct a remedy for your... afflictions ."

As he circled the bed, the air around you charged with unsaid words, he grazed your cheek with his knuckles, the touch feather-light yet scorching. Your skin burned under his caress, your heat evident to his discerning touch.

"Ah, you are quite warm," he murmured, almost to himself. He leaned closer, his breath fanning your face as he tenderly pushed away strands of hair that had clung to your dampened forehead. "What then, my dear, do you seek from me?"

You swallowed thickly, your body betraying your desires with a soft whimper. "I don't need a doctor, Father," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Then what?" Astarion whispered back, his proximity intoxicating.

Your breath hitched; you bit down on your lower lip, trapping it between your teeth. In a voice suffused with shame and longing, you uttered the words, "Touch me."

Astarion clicked his tongue, a reprimand and a tease all at once. "You know that is not possible. My vows..." He let the sentence hang, unfinished, yet heavy with implication.

But desire was a siren's call, relentless and seductive. As your fingers resumed their salacious dance, the soft wet sounds that they made reached his ears, sending a bolt of raw need through him. He watched, transfixed, his body responding despite his resolve.

"Is this a habit of yours?" he asked, his voice husky with restrained passion.

"No," you breathed out, your movements unabated.

"Has another taught you such pleasures?" His inquiry was both invasive and achingly tender.

"N-no. Never," you admitted, your voice tinged with innocence and discovery.

He hummed, acknowledging your confession. "There is much to learn about one's own flesh... to understand what brings pleasure, what stirs the soul."

"Please," you gasped, your plea floating between you like a fragile leaf caught in a tempest. "Help me, Father... Show me how to feel good..."

"Perhaps," he whispered, his voice a thread of silk amidst the tension, "a slight... guidance would not be deemed sacrilegious." The words felt foreign on his tongue, like a dark incantation that could unravel the very fabric of his being.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if absorbing the gravity of what he proposed. Your lips parted in a silent plea, your desire an unspoken prayer that beckoned him closer.

With reverent trepidation, he extended his hand, the silhouette of his fingers ghosting over the valley of your chest before descending. The heat of your skin seared his palm as he cupped your heavy breast, feeling its softness yield beneath his touch. Your sharp intake of breath was both a torment and a balm to his conflicted soul.

"Ah..." you sighed, a delicate sound that underscored the urgency of this illicit communion.

Astarion allowed himself a moment to marvel at the responsiveness of your body, the way your flesh puckered against the chilled air, inviting his thumb to graze over the tight peak of your nipple. To him, it was the first transgression – a tactile whisper that spoke volumes of forbidden pleasures yet explored.

His hand trailed lower, a painstaking journey across the landscape of your ribcage, the undulating terrain of your belly, each movement deliberate, a testament to the restraint he fought to maintain. It was an artist's touch, painting strokes of fire upon your canvas of anticipation.

"May I?" The question hung between you, laden with consequences yet to unfold. His eyes sought yours, seeking absolution in their depths. Your gaze held his, fierce and unyielding—a mirror reflecting your shared hunger.

"Please," you breathed, the single word a key turning in the lock of his resolve.

His fingers, cold and steady, grazed the small of your waist, drawing your attention away from his eyes to the point of contact. You shuddered as his touch met the sensitive skin just above your hips. His fingers traced the delicate curve of your pelvis, kneading it gently, exploring your body with the reverence of a man discovering the wonders of the world for the first time.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of your hip. "Sinfully so, darling. But your wants, your needs... they are only human."

Astarion's eyes lingered on the curve of your hips, tracing the silhouette of your form with his gaze. The desire within him threatened to consume him whole, promising to both destroy and purify. He knew that once he crossed this line, there would be no going back. You were both aware of the weight of your transgression, heavy like a shroud about your limbs.

But your voice broke the silence, another soft plea that cracked the veneer of control he had so meticulously constructed. "Please," you begged, your voice trembling.

His fingers found you, hesitant at first, exploring the soft folds that lay between your legs. The air was heavy with the scent of arousal and anticipation, a heady cocktail that intoxicated you both. Astarion was no stranger to the touch of a woman, but this was different. This was sacrilegious. He could feel the weight of his vows bearing down upon him, threatening to suffocate him, but he persisted.

Your body tensed at his touch, the resistance only serving to heighten his desire. As he continued to explore you, he whispered softly into your ear, "You are allowed to feel pleasure, sweet girl. It's alright..."

Your breath hitched as his fingers delved deeper, your body arching against him in response. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, the pulsing life within you behind the delicate tissue that covered your being. He had never felt anything so alive, so vital, so right.

His fingers continued their exploration, sliding gently against your skin, tracing the pathways of your desire. Every touch was a caress, a promise, a confirmation that you were real, that you were there, and that he was not alone in this sin.

As his fingers continued their journey, he felt a surge of pure lust wash over him. He knew that he could not resist any longer. He needed to feel you, to possess you. He needed to experience the fullness of your passion and the sinful pleasures that awaited him.

He could feel your heart racing, your breaths becoming short and ragged as he touched you. Every touch, every brush of his fingers against your skin sent electricity coursing through his veins.

"Gods," you keened, your voice a desperate plea for release as he slowly sunk his middle and ring finger into your tight channel. Your body trembled, and you pressed yourself against him, urging him to continue.

Astarion released a long, shuddering breath. This was madness, this transgression. But the need was far too strong, too powerful.

His pale skin almost seemed to shimmer as he shifted his position on the bed. His scarlet eyes, usually so intense and piercing when preaching from the pulpit, were now dark with lust as they focused on your form laid out before him. The contrast between you was stark—him, the embodiment of forbidden restraint, and you, the very image of uninhibited desire.

"Father," you panted, your voice a sultry melody that tugged at the most carnal parts of him, "please..."

He slid his fingers deeper, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. The sight of your pleasure, the way you arched beneath his touch, drew a low groan from Astarion's throat. He was no longer the vampiric preacher who had given his life to God and vowed celibacy; he was a man, flesh and blood, driven by primal urges he could no longer deny. Your scent filled his senses, intoxicatingly sweet, and it sparked a curiosity that overshadowed all rational thought.

"Gods, I shouldn't..." He murmured, more to himself than to you, but the words died in his mouth as his tongue dared to taste the honeyed sweetness of your center. The flavor burst upon his senses—a delectable mix of sin and innocence—and his groan vibrated against your sensitive skin. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated need.

"M-more...please..don't stop," You encouraged breathlessly, your eyes half-closed, hands finding their way into his silver curls, urging him closer.

Astarion complied, his once-hesitant licks becoming more insistent, delving into your folds with fervor. The holy man within him screamed for repentance, for restraint, but he was drowned out by the carnal beast that had been awakened. With each stroke of his tongue and curl of his fingers, he mapped out every contour of your dripping cunt, committing your responses to memory like sacred scripture.

"Ah, Astarion," you moaned, a symphony to his ears.

"Y/N," he whispered against you, his voice husky with passion, "you taste positively divine ."

As he continued to worship at the altar of your body, the church bells of propriety and oath rang distant, irrelevant. In this moment, there was only you and the undeniable truth that you were bound by something far stronger than doctrine. The friction of his fingers inside of you, coupled with the relentless pursuit of his tongue, stoked a flame within you that threatened to consume you both.

"Father," you gasped, your plea a beautiful litany, "Aah - Gods, yes.."

Your hips bucked beneath him, the fierce desire in your eyes melting into a tempest of ecstasy. The supple flesh of your sex clenched around his fingers, and the sight of it, the feel of it, sent a shiver down his spine. The moments of hesitation were a blur in the past, all that remained was the hunger between you, the natural dance of bodies, the silent pleas for release.

He felt that familiar throb of anticipation, the prelude to a world of pleasure and sin. It would be a fall from grace, a transgression of the utmost magnitude. But he knew, deep down, that his heart would break if he denied you the satisfaction you so desperately craved.

He could feel the tension within your body, the resistance slowly fading away as you came closer to the edge. Your breaths, once short and gasping, now deep and labored as you allowed yourself to fully succumb to sinful bliss.

His fingers, still buried inside of you, crescendoed their rhythm, matching the tempo of your heartbeat. He traced the swell of your clitoris with his thumb and lapped at the nectar that spilled from you, staining his lips with its sweetness.

"Astarion," you whispered, your voice a low, sultry moan. "Please, I need more."

He understood. He needed more, too. He plunged his fingers deep within you once more, eliciting a scream of unadulterated pleasure. The supple flesh of your sex clenched and spasmed around him, and the sight of it, the feel of it, drew a deep growl from within his chest.

His breath was a harsh rasp, his every sense alight with the raw scent of desire that rose from your flushed skin. Withdrawing his hand and mouth from your quivering, wet warmth, he couldn't help but admire the sheen of arousal that coated him, a decadent gloss that marked his sin as much as it did his yearning. He gazed upon you, reclined and panting, through eyes hazed with lust, finding you all the more enchanting for the sweat that painted your delicious curves.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice laced with both reproof and undeniable affection, "such a greedy little thing."

His fingers, still trembling with the remnants of your pleasure, worked at the ties of his breeches with a deftness born of necessity—this shedding of his final vestment felt like the peeling away of his last vow. The fabric fell away, pooling around his knees before he kicked them off, discarding the cloth and constraint alike into a forgotten pile on the floor.

Bare now before you, the dying light cast shadows across his lean form, playing over the muscles that tensed with anticipation. His heavy, aching cock stood proud, a testament to their forbidden ardor, twitching as though it had a life of its own, the tip shining with evidence of his need.

"Can you handle more?" he asked, his voice a low growl that vibrated in the charged air between you. It wasn't just a question of your endurance; it was a challenge to his self-control, a plea for absolution for the hot sin you were about to commit.

Your response was caught in your throat, your eyes wide as you drank in the sight of him. In your gaze, Astarion saw the war between lust and trepidation—yet when you swallowed, it not only discarded your fears but also his lingering doubts.

"Please," you whispered, your voice thick with want. "Take me... I want to be yours."

The words crashed into him like a wave, sweeping away the last of his restraint. A part of him—the man who had clung to his faith amidst a sea of past temptations—whispered that this was the point of no return. But another part, deeper, more primal, rejoiced in the offering you presented.

"Then mine you shall be," he vowed, his mind afire with images of your union, of how he would fill you, stretch you, consume your essence until there was no distinguishing where one ended and the other began.

As he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick heat, he felt the weight of years of celibacy poised on the brink of oblivion. His heavy balls tightened, aching with the promise of release, the need to claim and be claimed overwhelming him.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Yes," came your breathless reply.

And with that single word, Astarion surrendered, gently pushing forward and guiding himself into your tight warmth with a slow, deliberate thrust.

You gasped as his girth split your virgin pussy, your body writhing beneath him, a silent plea for more. Astarion pushed in deeper, sinking slowly into you…inch by agonizing inch until you felt his balls press against the tender flesh of your ass. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced, a divine mix of pain and pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

"Ohh, Gods above ...you're so tight, little one" he whispered, pulling back just enough to tease your entrance and admire the pink ring of your ruined maidenhood around his shaft before plunging himself into your core once more.

You moaned, your hands clawing at his back, urging him on. “Mmf! Ahh…d-don't stop, please..."

Astarion groaned, his hips bucking urgently against you. He wanted to savor this moment, to take his time, but the beast within him demanded satisfaction. He shifted his angle, his cock rubbing at that sweetest spot inside of you just right as his crown pressed rough kisses against your cervix over and over again, and you cried out in pleasure and pain.

"Ahhh - fuck ," you cried, your voice a mixture of ecstasy and anguish, "Gods, it's too much...I can't-”

"Yes you can," Astarion whispered reassuringly, his breath hot against your ear. He thrust faster, harder, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound. "You're taking me so well, sweet girl. Being so very good for me..."

Your body arched beneath him, your nails digging into his back as you climaxed hard, your orgasm hitting you like a whirlwind of bliss and agony.

Astarion felt your muscles clench around him, a vice-like grip that threatened to pull him under. His release was imminent, and he knew that once it came, there would be no turning back.

His thrusts became more frantic, the need to conquer your petite body overtaking him. Each movement was a battle, each thrust a plea, each twitch of his manhood a promise. He could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Forgive me," he grunted, his voice strained, his voice echoing your pleas from earlier. "I just can't control myself around you..."

You let out a needy, lustful whimper as your overstimulated body trembled beneath him, matching his rhythm as you reached once more for the edge of a new kind of bliss you had never known.

"I don't want you to control yourself," you huffed. "I want to feel every bit of you inside me."

Astarion groaned, his eyes rolling back as he plunged into you with reckless abandon, his cock twitching and pulsing within your snug hole. He felt your walls tighten around him, milking him for everything he had to offer. This was it; this was the moment. He knew that once he emptied himself inside of you, he would be lost in you forever. With a desperate cry, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your molten core, stuffing you completely with his thick, neglected manhood as his seed flooded and filled you, a substantial overflow seeping from where you remained joined - a testament to your sinful union.

As he collapsed onto you, his breathing came in ragged gasps. You lay beneath him, your eyes closed, face flushed with the afterglow of your lovemaking. You felt his cock twitching inside of you, still wrapped around him in a tight grip from your shared ecstasy.

He could feel your heart racing beneath him. This was not merely sex or desire; this was something forever altered, indelible in your souls. As your bodies calmed from their fervor, he found himself still nestled within your warmth, where he belonged.

He knew that to stay burrowed within you would be to invite temptation's final caress, but he could not make himself retreat. Not now, not ever. You were his now, and he was yours; there was no turning back...

[r0-boat]

So..... About that Naga Baizhu? ¬v¬

Snake Man becomes a snake

read all about it!

Naga!Baizhu headcannons+Short drabble

Cw: kidnapping,

Sfw

Cut for length

It all started when a white snake You saw it cowering in fear as to heartless teenagers poked at it with sticks. Pulling at the poor thing's tail even as the creature tried to escape. They had it trapped, Tormenting the poor creature, not until you chase those nasty people away, picking up the white snake gently. The poor thing was hurt and scared You kept it with you until it was ready to be released. When you released the whitesnake it's lizard in the grass and before it disappeared into the bushes It stood up looking at you with its big Ruby eyes flicking its tongue at you You could almost swore it thanked you before rushing into the underbrush.

Your house was connected to a lot of foresty land in the backyard so you are used to seeing wildlife... But you are not expecting the visitor you'll have this morning.

You're not sure how he got into your house. Maybe you accidentally left your back door unlocked.

You heard voices as you were waking up.

"are you sure this is the one?"

"Yes, they saved me a week ago, they're perfect for you."

"All right I'll start burning the blend."

As the blend burned the scent of lavender sage and a mix of other herbs hit your nose. Calming you, as you just woke up you already felt like you were falling back asleep. Barely opening your eyes You could sort of make out the two.

You almost thought you were dreaming when you saw the white snake the same white snake and hearing that same voice from her once again. "They're waking up."

"Don't worry The blend should put them back to sleep."The man next to her said His eyes liquid gold pupils like a snake as he looks down at you His green hair matching with the green scales on his hands I see brushes your hair back caressing your cheek. "Go back to sleep my dear." His voice warm and smooth like honey.

___________

Baizhu had been looking for a mate for a while now, but since Fall Baizhu was too busy taking care of other wild hybrids to worry about finding a mate for spring. So Changsheng to get upon herself, She was careless wanting to see her friend happy She separated from Baizhu's side slithering out of his cave. She didn't mean to be gone for so long.

However, her search was highly fruitful. She found a nice human, a human that took care of her, patched her up, and saved her. The caring hands in sweet smile reminded her of Baizhu. After getting yelled at by an angry, worried, sick Baizhu, his anger softened when Changsheng spoke about what you had done to her. Changsheng is a somewhat prickly character, so listening to her talk so extensively about you made him interested to meet you.

Baizhu knew humans had different mating rituals and knew full well that humans are not a... Intense, as the dominating aggressive Nagas. As much as his species fantasizes about how weaker humans are to them and how they are the perfect mate because of it but very little have the temperament to deal with the relatively complex emotions that humans have.

Baizhu was different. He was not as aggressive or dominating as members of his species. But he was not certainly considered weak either.

The way he took you back to his cave was regrettably something he could have done better. But for some reason, you took it rather well. You are more interested in his snake companion and Baizhu's snake body (which he was happy to show you.) He thought you would fear him. He thought you would run from him. To his surprise, if you'd let you go, you would even visit on your own accord. And you did! You are a strange one. But he liked that about you. He thought he understood humans more than anyone

I references species a lot, but the truth is that Baizhu is the last of his kind. Even with his dear white snake friend being the last, Naga hybrid was a lonely title, so he was so desperate to have you.

Baizhu is obsessed with your human anatomy; He's never seen humans this close. He plays with your fingers, rambling on about how your body looks similar up until the waist—squeezing your legs, wiggling your toes, feeling your smooth, squishy scalist skin. He wants to see if your body will react just like any other female Naga. He wonders what your body would do if he kissed you hot and heavy.

He doesn't mind if you touch him too, He knows that you're curious about him just as much as he is about you. He warns you that his skin is rather sensitive and he does shudder with Even the lightest of your touches. Eucharest his cheek honey hold your hand while nuzzling into your palm his lips gently touch your hand his golden gaze piercing through you.

Naga's are always considered more aggressive monsters, possessive of their mates, and highly protective. Baizhu is on the calmer side, more docile; however, during spring, when his more... Animalistic urges come to the surface, He gets more demanding of your attention—practically hanging off you, desperate to mark you with his scent. Baizhu tries to hold back a lot of his urges, not wanting to hurt you or scare you. Even if you accept his advances, he is still hesitant and tries to be as gentle as he can before fully succumbing to lust. When the cloud over his mind finally lifts seeing your bruised and bitten body, he takes care of you like any good mate and doctor would.

You were surprised how quickly you became Baizhu and Changsheng's heat pack. Baizhu would try to wrap his coils around you in any way when he's doing anything, especially when it's chilly. He'll literally cling on to you have as much of his skin touching yours as he can. This is not inherently sexual to him. He just likes the feeling of your warm body directly touching him. He tries not to admit it, but he gets pouty when Changsheng is being warmed by you but not him.

[positivelybeastly]

Love reading through your analyses and I was wondering if you had insight on something I noticed with Hank/Beast and Kurt/Nightcrawler: writers often use both of them in the visible mutation metaphor and emotional cores, but Kurt's approach is more from faith and Hank's is more from curiosity. Often when one or either are gone/dead/changed, things seem to get worse for the Team overall.

Do you think those two would benefit each other's characters? Even just to have spirited philosophical discussion?

So, this actually touches on a funny thing that I've noticed with Beast and Nightcrawler over time - which is that they're almost never on the same team together, probably precisely because they serve an extremely similar function in a team composition, for the reasons you've kind of touched on here.

They are, after all, both heavily visibly mutated individuals who were, or are, considered figures of great integrity and morality, with a strong code of ethics and a depth of feeling that expresses itself in a deeply vivacious personality - romantic, friendly, charming, and erudite.

Therefore, having them both on a team is, unfortunately, somewhat redundant.

That being said! They do still interact, and they're shown to be sources of great comfort and friendship for one another. Their first meetings were - somewhat inauspicious . . .

See, this is the funny thing about old comics - storylines just flow and flow and flow. Comics didn't stop after ten issues and get restarted with a new #1 every few months, they just ran and ran and ran, and the pacing reflected that.

There aren't usually month long gaps where you can assume nothing happened and people just got to hang out, they're working hard! Hank has been working with the Avengers so much that he literally hasn't even had time to meet the new X-Men properly! Wild.

But, eventually, things did slow down, and they got a chance to properly socialise, and, as expected, they got along like a house on fire.

Like, these two are just born to be friends. They have so much in common. Where Hank leans more to the obscure, the erudite, and the scientific, Kurt leans more to the dashing, the swashbuckling, and, of course, the religious, but they're still both fundamentally cut from the same cloth - acrobatic, charming, philosophical, heroic, fun.

But, that same alike quality means you don't get a ton of interaction between them, so I cling to what they do have. One of my favourite interactions between them is in Nightcrawler's 2004 solo series.

First off, absolutely adore Hank in this art style. The fact that the artist decided to include the detail of his fur poking out of the shirt like that is just. It transfixes me. I really want to go over and just. Run my fingers through his side fur. But mostly, I just like their chemistry? Hank's a great supporting character because he's so emotionally intelligent and reflective, and he's great at giving people perspective, usually with a healthy dose of sarcasm and teasing.

That being said, this scene is always the one I point to whenever I say that the X-Men really have no idea what's going on in Hank's head a lot of the time, because this took place after Hank had been psychically brutalised, nearly beaten to death, and one of his best friends had just been murdered - and he's doing a really very good job of hiding that trauma.

So much so that Kurt thinks he's just fine. He's just fine. There's nothing to worry about. But it's not Kurt's fault, and it's nowhere near unique to him, either. He had no way to know, he had his own stuff going on (the subject matter of this solo series, as it happens), and Hank is doing well enough that it isn't interfering with things, so, let him deal with it in peace, I suppose.

At least on this occasion.

Kurt is, after all, an emotionally intelligent and caring individual. You can't stop Nightcrawler from trying to help where he can. And I think that even just the reaching out, just the show of support, can be enough for a character like Hank.

Moments like these matter, in my opinion. It's important to show that teammates and friends care about each other, in the moment to moment stories, otherwise it can all feel very impersonal and like no-one cares about one another. This is how you establish dynamics over years, even between characters who have, technically speaking, never really been on a team together before.

The next big milestone I can think of comes after the X-Men's move to Utopia, where, again, Hank and Kurt don't share a ton of panel time together, but . . .

This is one of the few times you'll ever hear anyone say that Hank was right. And it's not really a surprise that it comes from Kurt, because, again, these men are cut from the same cloth. They come at it from different angles, but they believe in much the same things.

And . . . that's why it hits so hard when Kurt dies.

I don't necessarily agree with the decision to have Hank break from the literal funeral procession to call Scott out for Kurt's death. Some fans of Nightcrawler really appreciate that moment, because it shows how much Kurt's death affected Hank, but I personally just. Don't think it tracks, for Hank to be quite that disrespectful.

After the funeral, or even before, but during it? Nah. Matt Fraction made a good few Hank characterisation choices I don't agree with, and this was one of them.

This felt a bit more apropos.

Remember what I said about how little moments build to dynamics between characters who have never been on teams together? I buy this moment so much more with the context of that moment from Endangered Species, where Kurt is literally positioned as the light trying to pull Hank out of the dark path he's following with obsessive fervour. The fact that he was trying went a long way. Hank felt it, even if he didn't take him up on it at the time. That moment mattered.

And that's why I absolutely buy Hank's reaction when Kurt came back to life.

Hank believes in Kurt. He believes the very best of him. On teams where Hank can often feel alone or isolated, someone like Kurt will reach out, and make him feel connected, and welcome, and pull him back. Temper his scientific pessimism and realism with optimism and belief. Restore his fervour, and remind him of simpler, happier times.

A lot of the best scientists, who have contributed the most to scientific inquiry, were religious, because for a lot of them, there's no real conflict between science and religion, they're both two sides of the same coin, in a way - a belief in a higher power. It's just how they react to that higher power that changes.

And while Hank was explicitly religious for a while, I always interpreted him as losing that faith over the years, becoming bogged down in the real over the sublime as what he went through wore him down. Someone like Kurt was able to spark that in him again. Maybe not his faith, per se, but at the very least belief in the human spirit.

It's important. As you say, massive benefit to each other's characters. Underrated dynamic, these two. Absolutely love 'em.

[merwgue]

(This is neither a pro nor anti post, this is merely to criticise SJM's writing. However, it will be tagged as "anti" because if I tag it neutral, I'll get jumped❤️)

Ah yes, the infamous communication void in Sarah J. Maas's books—a void so deep it could probably swallow the entire Night Court and still be hungry. SJM doesn’t just dabble in miscommunication; she throws her characters into emotional landmines and says, "You figure it out... or don’t." And that’s where the fated mates trope comes in, right? It’s supposed to patch up that mess with some mystical connection, as if being mates magically grants couples ESP-level knowledge of each other’s deepest feelings. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

Let’s dive into why SJM’s version of communication—or lack thereof—just doesn’t hold water.

The Fated Mate Shortcut

In theory, fated mates should have some magical telepathic bond that transcends words. It's the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card for character development: why build healthy communication skills when the mating bond can conveniently swoop in to fill the gaps? In Maas’s world, this idea is wielded like an all-powerful tool: mates just know what the other is feeling, and therefore don't need to use this wild, ancient concept called words. The idea that fated mates can "sense" each other's emotions essentially sidelines the necessity of open dialogue. But here’s the problem: emotional intuition ≠ effective communication.

Psychologically speaking, emotional intelligence involves recognizing and managing your own emotions and the emotions of others. That’s not mind-reading! You can be deeply connected to someone, even soul-tied, and still have no idea what’s going on in their head. People are complex, and relationships require actual verbal communication to navigate emotional landscapes.

Take Feyre and Tamlin. They clearly loved each other but weren’t mates, which might be why their lack of communication felt so tangible and raw. The failure to express needs, fears, and insecurities is what led to their downfall, and honestly? That’s valid. Miscommunication or inability to communicate is one of the most common—and understandable—reasons relationships end. But do we get that sense of growth and change when Feyre hooks up with Rhysand? Not really. It’s like the narrative shifts gears from "Tamlin doesn’t understand Feyre" to "Rhysand just knows because they’re mates," completely skipping the part where Feyre needs to actually talk about what she went through.

The "Communication-Free" Mating Bond

Now we get to the Rhysand-Feyre dynamic. Once they're revealed as mates, it’s as though any need for in-depth conversations about feelings becomes redundant. The bond is treated as an unbreakable connection that automatically compensates for any emotional roadblocks. Rhysand messes up? It's okay, they’re mates. Feyre’s spiraling emotionally? Don’t worry, the bond will smooth that over. In psychological terms, this reliance on a supernatural bond as a "fix" is classic avoidant behavior. Instead of confronting the discomfort of working through problems, the narrative leans into this magical quick-fix. They’re bonded for life—problem solved, right?

Except it’s not.

Relationships—good ones, healthy ones—are built on effective communication, trust, and vulnerability. The mere presence of a fated mate bond doesn’t remove the need for these things. Mates don’t automatically understand each other’s trauma just because of some mystical bond. Imagine being so emotionally stunted that instead of apologizing or owning up to your mistakes, you’re just like, "But we’re mates, so it’s fine." Spoiler alert: it’s not fine.

Nessian: Miscommunication Meets the Mating Bond

And then we have Nesta and Cassian, whose relationship could be the ultimate case study in how not to communicate. Nesta, dealing with PTSD and trauma, is paired with Cassian, who—for all his supposed swagger—cannot for the life of him communicate effectively. They constantly clash, avoid real conversations about their pain, and sweep everything under the rug with physical intimacy. They kiss and make up, but no one is really talking. And that’s not love; that’s avoidance. It's like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

The bond between them is used as a crutch. When they fight, we’re supposed to believe that their mate bond will fix things eventually, but that's simply not how relationships work. Kissing your partner instead of discussing real problems is fine for a silly argument, but when it comes to serious issues—trauma, boundaries, power imbalances—it’s irresponsible. And the fact that Maas frames this as healthy because they’re mates is the narrative equivalent of gaslighting the reader into accepting toxic dynamics.

In psychological terms, this is where we see the conflict-avoidant and emotionally avoidant behaviors on full display. Cassian and Nesta both lack the emotional tools to effectively navigate their struggles, yet instead of being called out, their dysfunction is wrapped up in a bow of "fated mates" as if that’s supposed to be a solution. It’s not. The reality is that their bond does nothing to facilitate real healing; it’s just there as a placeholder for emotional growth that never comes.

The Unhealthy Dynamic

In psychology, we talk about secure attachment as the cornerstone of healthy relationships. You can have a deep connection, but you also need to work on things like trust, openness, and communication. What happens in Maas’s world is the opposite: the characters are codependent on this fated bond, rather than working toward a healthy attachment style. And SJM lets them off the hook. This narrative implies that emotional labor and apologizing for mistakes don’t really matter because "the bond will fix it." Not only does this undermine real, meaningful growth, but it also glosses over the entire point of relationships: to grow and learn together through the hard stuff.

When it comes to Cassian and Nesta, they literally can’t communicate. Cassian has all his own insecurities (hello, always calling himself a brute, never feeling worthy of Rhysand’s inner circle), and Nesta is navigating serious mental health struggles. They’re both drowning, but instead of Maas writing about how they could heal together, she plasters it with the band-aid of "mating bond."

At the end of the day, the whole "fated mates" trope in ACOTAR is a narrative cop-out that excuses bad communication and toxic dynamics. It’s okay to have flawed characters, but the problem is Maas doesn't treat them as flawed. She treats their lack of communication as something normal or even romantic. When in reality, if you can’t talk through your issues with your partner, no magical bond is going to save you.

So yeah, SJM’s version of "fated mates" feels like a lazy way to dodge the hard work of showing real character growth. And if these characters weren’t mates, they’d probably have broken up long ago—because healthy relationships are built on communication, not just magical convenience.