#the way he removes that compass from his mouth

[galaxymagitech]

A New Form of Love

Fic for the final day of @casscainweek!

Summary: This man hurt her father, but he kneels in front of her, hands extended like he expects her to place her tiny, breakable fingers in his palms. (During an encounter with David Cain, Bruce finds a child.)

Characters: Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne, David Cain, Dick Grayson

Warnings: Child abuse

You can read it here or on AO3!

This man hurt her father, but he kneels in front of her, hands extended like he expects her to place her tiny, breakable fingers in his palms. She knows better than to fall for that, knows what will happen. How the man’s hands will close tight over her own and snap, bringing blinding pain. And yet, he seems to be waiting.

This man hurt her father, but his body screams compassion as he moves his mouth, making strange sounds that the weapon does not know how to understand. They are gentle sounds, though, like something to make to a baby to hush it to sleep or to a wild creature to coax it out of hiding. The weapon has heard sounds like this, when she was brought out into the open with her father, but never directed towards her.

This man hurt her father, but he is not hurting her now. He falls silent, shoulders hunching in frustration, but he does not bring pain. Instead, he reaches up and removes the black fabric that covers most of his face. His piercing blue eyes fall on her with a mix of pity and hope.

Her hands have relaxed from their fists without her noticing. She knows that this man is dangerous—dangerous enough for her father to motion her to stay hidden while they fought. If father didn’t think she was ready to fight him, then she is not. If the man wants to hurt her the way he hurt her father, she can’t stop him. And yet, she feels strangely calm.

Slowly, the man reaches up to the weapon’s ear. She stares into his eyes, reading no malice. And then, he withdraws his hand with a flourish, brandishing a shiny object.

That wasn’t in her ear! She would have known if it was! And yet, it wasn’t in the man’s hand before. So where did it come from?

The man smiles. He closes his fist, but instead of using it to strike, he opens it again. The man gives an exaggerated look of fake surprise. Now, the shiny thing is gone!

Her eyes widen. She reaches forward despite herself, running her hand over the man’s black gloves to confirm that the shiny thing has indeed disappeared.

The man holds out his other hand, closed, and then unfurls his fingers. There it is!

She giggles, then immediately flinches back. Sounds are not permitted. Sounds mean pain. Punishment. A slap, bruises, blood.

Instead, the man smiles. He relaxes, holding out the hand with the shiny thing. Cautiously, she takes it, feeling the cold metal brush against her skin. It’s strange. Metal is used to hurt, but all this thing does is sparkle.

The man places a hand against his chest and makes a sound. She frowns at him. He taps his chest. His body seems to curl in on itself, but with a sort of pride. Like he owns himself. It’s a novel concept.

The man repeats the sound. “Bruce.” That…must be his sound. A sound for him. Father has sounds for the weapon, but he rarely uses them, preferring silence. Sounds don’t belong in her world.

The weapon’s mouth opens. She tries to shove a sound out through it. Nothing comes. She closes her mouth, lowering her head in apology.

Still, the man—the “Bruce”—does not bring punishment. Instead, he places two hands on her torso, just underneath her shoulders, and hoists her into the air. Her expression twists in shock and, for a moment, she expects pain.

No pain comes. Bruce just holds her against his chest, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Her eyes widen even further, her breath catching in her throat and fluttering there. This is—

Father never lets her hold him, never holds her in return. Never lets her touch him or hug him or kiss him without a fight, without pain. But this strange man has lifted her from the ground and held her, and still his body is gentle. It’s so warm. She doesn’t want it to end.

But it will end. Better it ends now, before the kindness tears her heart from her chest.

Slowly, she brushes her lips against the Bruce’s cheek. She expects the man to drop her, for his grip to turn painful and constricting, for his hand to crack against her face. But he only reaches one hand into her head, running his fingers through her hair in reassurance. His body is not cold or angry. Instead, there’s a sense of wonder, there. Bruce looks at her like she is amazing. Not the weapon, not the body, but her. The girl who pressed her lips to his cheek.

He speaks again. She doesn’t understand, but his words are soft and soothing. When she puts her hands on his chest, she can feel it rise and fall, rise and fall. And his embrace is so warm, like nothing she’s ever experienced.

Bruce begins to walk. He is carrying her away from her father. She should wiggle free. Fight. Run. Something. But instead, she closes her eyes and curls into him, holding the shiny thing close as she hides from the image of her father lying unconscious on the ground.

When she finally recovers enough to open her eyes and look around again, she is in a strange room. The walls are metal, and so is the floor and the ceiling. At the front of the room are two black cushioned seats, and along the walls there are several other seats with straps to hold a person, facing towards the center of the room. In one of the front seats sits another man—smaller than the Bruce, still young, though not nearly as young as her, wearing bright-colored clothing. A boy.

Bruce places the weapon in one of the seats. No! She doesn’t want him to let her go. This is the best thing she has ever had. She can’t lose it.

She clings to the fabric on his sleeves. When he tries to pull away, the weapon leaps forwards. She knows how to play this game, how to earn being held—her father only lets her hold onto him if she has him pinned to the ground.

The weapon sweeps Bruce’s legs from under him and catches him in an arm lock before throwing him over her shoulder. Still holding onto his arm, she crouches down and rests against his torso. He will throw her off and hurt her, hurt her bad, but it will be worth it, just to hold him for a few moments longer.

The boy in the bright clothes turns around and laughs. He says something, and Bruce grunts. Agreement. She doesn’t know what the two men have agreed on. She doesn’t even know why she’s here. These men haven’t hurt her and she let Bruce bring her here, but they are taking her away from her father. Should she be fighting them? Hurting them? She doesn’t want to hurt them. Not when Bruce held her so gently.

Bruce escapes the arm lock, but he doesn’t draw away. Instead, he picks her up again. He sits down on one of the seats and lets her rest on his lap.

Even if Bruce and his bright-colored friend are taking her away from her father, even if they will hurt her later like Bruce hurt him, this is worth it. She doesn’t know how to thank them. But—

Carefully, she holds out the shiny thing to Bruce. An offering.

Rather than taking it, Bruce places his hand around her own, curling her fingers back over the shiny metal. His motions tell her that this is hers. She has never had anything that was hers before.

Bruce leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. She gasps. There is something strange flowing from his body. Love. Not the ownership-love of her father, which twists something in her even as it fills her up, but a different love. Warm and gentle and kind. And new.

Entirely new.

She has never seen love of this kind before, but she imagines this is what she must look like if she could watch herself in a mirror. Because in this moment, she is certain she loves this man back.

[mystery-star]

Russell Crowe as Jack Aubrey and James D'Arcy as Tom Pullings in Master and Commander (2003)

[hiaennyddei]

is the King in Yellow phallic or yonic ? Discuss. [i am sent to the Dreamlands for 20 years]

Design notes under the cut !

John :

his coat has 2 layers. the outside is always the same shape, the inside is a mess of fabric that doesn't make much sense and whose shape changes depending on what he needs.

his outer cloak separates in 4 large ribbons that act more or less as legs. they're very strong but not very agile.

there's a darker ribbon going from his hood down his back that acts roughly like a tail. he uses it for balance (like a cat), mobility (like a snake), or attack (like a scorpion) depending on what he needs

thin ribbons float and wrap around his arms, and some more can come from his inner cloak. they act as precision limbs.

his hands look human-ish, but very bony and with short claws. the skin feels like porcelain.

he usually has 4 hands out, but can remove or add some as needed.

the brooch on his cloak has the same sigil than the one on his book

the teeth in his mouth are ivory-white

some areas of him are always in complete darkness (the inside of his hood, the deep folds of his cloak). you can only ever see the outline of his face.

the cloak is part of his body as much as the arms, possibly more so

the halo/crown melts more the more he strays from godhood. it is always tilted towards Arthur. (it built back up to an extent during his stint in the dark worlds in s3, then started melting again)

the crown's spikes always point straight up, regardless of how tilted the crown is

King in Yellow :

Some common points with John : hooded cloak with sharp tails, yellow, ribbons/tendrils, vertical mouth, crown, jewelry, bony arms, some areas are comletely in darkness, obscured face, glowing eye(s)

Some differences : John's yellow is warmer ; John has fancy embroideries, King is much more uniform ; John's cloak has natural folds, King's looks more geometrical ; John's eye is bright all the way in, King's is dark at the center like a black hole ; John's hands are human-like, King's has two opposable thumbs like owl talons

Generally they have similar building blocks (cloak, yellow theme, ribbons/tendrils...) but John is warmer, has more human traits, and is generally more organic/more natural-looking.

The King's crown has two points broken off (one for John, one for Yellow)

If you stand in front of the king it always looks like light is coming from behind him, so the side you see is always is semi-darkness and the cast shadow is always on you. If you could circle around him, the shadow would follow you like a compass

The hands are more "puppeted" additions than actual body parts

Yellow :

Basically the King in Yellow forced into a situation of weakness and fragile humanity

Shade of yellow is closer to the King's than John's

Coat's cut has the sharpness and geometry of the King's, but it's imperfect and has visible folds

Crown is broken as representation of his weakness, but unlike John's it's forcefully and neatly broken instead of melted

Him having hands is representative of being forced into a human, but they still take inhuman shapes with two opposable thumbs

Makes a point to keep up appearances, hence the jewelry and coat patterns, but doesn't have the King's glory

Has two eyes because he has Arthur's

Has the king's monstruous tendrils, but a lot more disorganized and more fabric-y than shadow. They spill out of the area where his coat's symetry is broken.

[jinisnuggets]

➳ 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓼𝓸 𝓘𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓽 𝓓𝓸𝔀𝓷𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵

PAIRINGS | Dom! Idol! Sunoo x Sub! Gn! Reader

GENRE | Smut

WORD COUNT | 0.7k

WARNINGS | Nicknames (Love, baby), swearing, (chest) play, rough dom Sunoo, overstimulation, A little time-skipped

SYNOPSIS | In a fan's eye he may be innocent, but to you he is your little monster

NETWORK | @en-diaries @starlit-network @k-library @blossomnet

A/N | Hi! This is my first time writing smut in a LONG time, so I'm open to any feedback/criticism you may have :D

His hips grinded against you as he pinned you down onto the bed, holding your arms tightly to ensure your stay. Light groans escaped from his mouth, as he kept his lips glued onto yours, not daring to separate from your warm touch.

“Sunoo- stop..” you spoke softly, seeing him smirk at you knowingly. He knew what he did to you and felt proud of it.

“Love, you know you don't mean that.”

His bulge grew, moaning in response to his tightening pants. Your ears burned, you couldn't focus and it was his fault.

Commenter: You're so cute and innocent! My Sunoo!

He read the comment out loud and smiled at the camera, making half a heart against his cheek and speaking in a somewhat high pitched voice, as a form of aegyo.

“Thank you!” He said, and shortly after the conversation took place, he ended the live, walking into the room where you found yourself, pushing you up against the wall roughly and beginning to sloppily kiss you.

At first there was nothing concerning about it, that was until you decided to be a bit of a tease and lightly massage his still covered dick, which you could tell was hardening.

“Fuck.” He groaned, feeling his pants tighten around his length, as he became desperate for more of you.

His finger found his way to your pants, undoing the buttons and rolling down the zipper, slowly lifting them from your thighs and taking them off of you.

That's how you ended up here, slammed against the bed cushion with your partner on top of you, grinding his dick into you with little to no compassion.

“Ne - Need you.” He groaned vaguely. His dick began to ache from the prolonged erection. His eyes squeezed shut as you nodded, assisting him in the removal of your clothing.

“Sunoo, don't tire yourself too much.” You said, making him nod though you knew he likely didn't put any sort of mind into what you said.

He lifted your leg, putting it over his shoulder as he practically slammed into you, showing zero mercy as he did so.

He lined himself up with you, starting to slide his long and thick friend into you however stopping due to the overwhelming tightness which had been wrapping around him. He cried in response, making you blush due to the sight of your sensitive lover.

“Shit Sunoo, so big and for what..?” You moaned, tears already flowing down your cheeks as he couldn't hold back his chuckle.

“Please, I know you can take more than this.”

He was never this rough with you, you never even expected this from him.

You guessed it was supposed to be his warning as the very next thing he did was start rapidly slamming into you. It took you by surprise, immediately covering yourself with a pillow to reduce the noise of your loud screams.

This was the same man who rarely ever initiated physical contact with you due to the fact he felt shy about it, he rarely ever intertwined your fingers together and he always preferred to have safe sex over anything.

But today, he was abusing your walls harshly, with a force you weren't even aware he had. His cock was bare and the simple thought of it made your stomach tangle into tight knots, ready to snap at any given moment.

“Sunoo-” you moaned, needing to stop in order to catch your breath. “I'm.. close.” You muttered.

His pace slowed down, making you cry in desperation at the sudden disappearance of feeling.

“I'm not done yet.” He hissed, which was enough to scare away the building up orgasm and make you sink back into the mattress, nodding in understanding.

He picked up his pace once more, this time leaning down to kiss your chest, flicking your nipples as his tongue toyed with the other; you held your mouth, once more feeling those tight knots forming in your stomach.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, uncontrollable tears flowing down your sensitive skin.

“My poor baby,” He teased, “I'll be done with you soon, no worries.” He reassured, landing another kiss onto your nose. You nodded in understanding, preferring to remain silent; it wasn't like you could even say anything.

“Fuck- Y/n, I'm close.” He said, feeling his dick reach its limit before cumming, making a mess all over you.

He picked up his pace, feeling his parts squish against your soft outsides, causing him to let out loud moans and screams.

You both came at the same time, he fell onto you making you wrap your arms around him, cuddling him.

“Thank you..” he muttered, leaving his cock inside of you, allowing it to rest in the depths of your warmth.

[crimsonmoonlight88]

You Belong With Me

Pairing: Mae x Noa

Note: Inspired by the photo Freya shared and this gorgeous rendition by @cj-k. Thank you for letting me share this beauty!

Mae found him by the fire, sitting with his pile of books and rolls of parchment. The hut he had crafted reminded her of a scholar's study, and she supposed it was. Or as close to one as it could be. It was still a shock to her that he could read, that he was teaching the others in the clan.

She told herself she did not wish to disturb him, but the truth was that her throat had closed up. This ape...he was the first that had showed her mercy and compassion, and he had nearly died saving her life. She had later saved his in return, but it did not feel enough, somehow.

"So late," Raka observed, glancing up at her at last. "And so..." His voice trailed off as he squinted in the dim light, trying to read her expression.

Mae quickly morphed her face into neutrality. Steeling herself, she forced herself to speak, to move forward with the inevitable. "I wanted to return this to you," she said, removing the familiar medallion from around her neck. She hesitated, feeling oddly bare without it, before extending it to him. "It is yours, after all."

Raka did not take it. He merely looked at the circular symbol, then met her gaze. "It was...a gift," he said gently. "For Noa. And now...it is yours."

Mae's hand shook. "Just take it."

"It is yours," Raka repeated.

"I don't want it!" she snapped, her voice cracking in the night.

Silence fell, heavy and uncomfortable. Raka closed his book, his dark eyes narrowing in a way that saw too much.

Mae let out a sound of exasperation and looked away. Her eyes wandered until they focused on the fading words of one of the tattered old books: The Words of Caesar. She knew this book. Raka read from it weekly to the others; she had listened only twice, too afraid to hear more.

With a sigh, Mae took a step forward and gently laid the necklace across the book so that the medallion rested on Caesar's name. She stared at it only briefly before finding Raka's gaze once more.

Sadness--and knowing--shone in his too-human eyes. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She felt as stripped of voice now as she had in the wilderness. So she forced herself to turn, moving mechanically to the flap of the door. She reached for it, but then Raka halted her when he spoke.

"I finally found..." he started, "why we call them...Nova."

Mae hesitated. She did not want to know the reason, and yet she turned, angling her head slightly. Waiting. Dreading. Curious, despite herself.

But Raka only smiled gently. "A tale...for another day...I think."

"Maybe someday I could hear it," Mae whispered.

Raka bowed his head, his eyes shining. "I look forward...to that day...Mae."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She darted outside into the chilly night. The moon shone brightly in the sky, and Mae practically sprinted away, heading past the rebuilt structures and toward the small hut the apes had built for her.

Her breathing was ragged as she flung back the animal pelt that served as a door. She she stood there a moment, taking in what had, for the past few weeks--or months--been her home. A bedding of blue cloth and sack stuffed with feathers for her head. A blanket of warmth. Pelts draped over the sides like makeshift walls for privacy. A bucket. A basket of nuts and fruits.

It was not like the bunker with mild human comforts, but it was...hers.

Mae did not know how long she stood there in silence, but a hoot of an owl had her finally moving.

Her hands shook as she knelt and hastily stuffed the few items she possessed into her ragged rucksack. She swiped at her face angrily, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall.

"Going...somewhere?"

Mae whipped around in alarm, reaching for the knife in her boot on instinct. Noa stood in the makeshift doorway, watching her with a sort of calm wariness, his stance almost defensive. She hated that look, that stance--it was so frighteningly human.

His eyes tracked the knife in her hand, his nostrils flaring. In his right hand dangled the medallion. Her throat went dry.

Mae slid the knife back into her boot. "I have to leave," she managed to say, her voice hoarse.

Confusion gleamed in Noa's eyes. "Why?"

"I can't stay here. I'm not..." She struggled to explain how she felt, but forced her way through. "I don't belong here."

"You..." Noa's mouth worked as he mulled over her words, as though he could find no understanding in them. "You would...disappear into the night?"

Mae swallowed thickly, but said nothing. Could say nothing.

"Where would you...go?" He took a step inside, his face incredulous. "You said...you said you had...nothing left."

He had not spoken cruelly, but the words found their mark and Mae flinched. When she had returned here with an injured and scarcely-breathing Raka, she had planned on staying only long enough to see him recover. But then she had stayed longer, and finally admitted the truth to herself, to Noa--that she could not return to the others, to the bunker. That was the agreement, the price for her mission.

He had only asked if she had delivered her book. She said yes. They had spoken no more of it.

Mae had seen the satellites rotate, and knew she had succeeded. That hope for humanity had burned so brightly in that moment, but at some point these past few weeks, she had started to feel a sense of impending doom. She didn't know when she stopped hoping to be found by more humans and when she had started to dread it.

Mae wanted humanity to regain their dominance, their strength, but she wanted this clan, these apes who had accepted and forgiven her, despite what she had done, to remain untouched. She knew it was Noa and Raka's influence that aided in that forgiveness, but she was grateful none the less.

They did not deserve to be caught in the crossfire.

"Mae," Noa said, drawing her attention back to him. "It is...not safe," he insisted. "Out there...alone."

"It's not safe if I stay either."

He looked to her rucksack, then back to her, and took another step closer. "You are safe here...with Eagle Clan. With me."

Mae felt her heart shatter. He did not realize it was he who was not safe--because of her.

"I can't stay," she forced herself to say. "I can't, Noa. And whatever this is..." She waved her hand between them, letting the silence fall.

Noa angled his head. "What is...this?"

"It's..." Words failed her. She didn't know how to explain what it was between them. All she knew was that it would not end well. It couldn't possibly end well. "It's not important."

Noa stared at her.

"Not...important?" He angled his head slightly as he prowled closer, eyes narrowed. "Not important," he repeated, testing the words and making a face, as though finding them sour.

Mae could only say nothing. Could not bring herself to speak another lie. Not to him.

He stood close now, a mere inch taller but somehow towering over her. She glanced away, unable to bear the look on his face.

After what felt like an eternity, he reached up and gently slid the medallion back around her neck. Then he leaned down, bringing his mouth close to her ear. "You are a better liar...than that."

A tear slid down Mae's cheek. As he pulled back slightly, her eyes found his, and the intensity in his gaze took her breath away.

Against her better judgement, her right hand slid up his strong arm, curling into his fur. Her other hand found the band on his other arm, her fingers brushing against the soft feathers.

His arms went around her, angling himself almost protectively, like it was the most natural thing in the world. For a long moment they just stood there, locked in an embrace that seemed to stop time.

Noa's eyes seared into her soul, more human than she had ever seen. "You were...wrong," he breathed. "You belong...with me."

(This picture feels like a cliffhanger, so I ended this just so. In my mind, of course Mae stays. ;))

[itsabouttimex2]

Plot twist: the moment d!reader is set free from both of the circles at the end of the journey, they dissapear into the night, never to be seen again...or not.

I'm sorry i just, as much as i love yanderes, i want to see them suffer. At least a bit.

Ps. You're an amazing writer and i really enjoy your fics. Also, you really helped in getting my friend into yandere, so thank you for that🙂

Taken Aboard:

Running Away

(I’m super glad that you enjoy my fics! And I’m glad your friends enjoys them, too! Yandere is a really fun trope to play with!)

So, in the case that you do pull a runner at the end of this long and arduous journey, Y/N… your biggest enemy is now yourself.

Because, as hard as you might have tried to fight it, you have been civilized. You have grown accustomed to society. You have started to care. This journey has changed and bettered you, as it has all your companions.

You are no longer a mere demon tending to monsters great and mighty, no more a child planting seeds and spreading spores.

You can’t ever go back to being the wild little creature you once were.

If you’ve ever read Gilgamesh, I’d say Enkidu is a good comparison for your development. After he’s been ‘civilized’ by Shamhat, Enkidu can no longer return to the home he knows and loves, the animals who once accepted him now fleeing on sight.

Now, if you leave before the journey’s end…

You run, devastated and distraught that so much of yourself is gone and lost, never to be reclaimed. The forest may not be the home you know, but some part of it is still familiar.

You purge the hunters and loggers who have taken up residence within the Emerald Grove, violently spilling their nourishing blood across the hungry soil, pitch their flesh into the mouths of ravenous beasts.

It doesn’t make you feel better- you know that at least some of these men and women were trying to feed themselves, their children.

But at least the forest is newly quiet, contented by a fresh meal, leaving you in peace to mourn.

As for hoping to ‘never being seen again’…

Sun Wukong’s Golden Vision has a little something to say about that.

Within hours he’s stalking back to the Emerald Grove in a huff, hauling his way up the tallest tree he can find and unhappily making his way over to you.

The Great Sage snatches you off the bark and tosses you over his shoulder, clambering down the tree as you kick and scream. You demand to be released and removed from the group, biting and pounding your fists agains his invulnerable back.

“Being naughty today, bud? Here I was, thinking you had finally gotten past this ‘running back home’ phase.”

“I am not a baby,” you scream, digging your teeth into the base of his spine with all your demonic might. “PUT ME DOWN!”

You manage to draw just a few drops of blood, not that it phases the simian. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re making things harder for all of us, you know that? And you keep setting us back with all the running away nonsense. But I had Master call a certain someone up to maybe settle this for us all, bud.”

Against your angry protests and endless assault does the Great Sage drag you back to camp, switching to hold you in his arms instead of over his back.

Immediately do your screams of anger turn to pained wails, the sound of a holy sutra hitting your ears. The blessed bands around your wrists tighten, scraping the skin they compress to rawness.

And before you stands not only the holy monk who tricked you into wearing these golden hoops, but the goddess who gave them to him.

“Sun Wukong, please place the child down,” she lightly instructs, her tone even and polite. “Might I speak to them for a moment?”

The Handsome Monkey King obeys, nudging your towards the goddess after he releases his grip on you.

Guanyin comes to you slowly, kneeling to take your face into her soft and gentle hands.

And you bite her.

“You- you call yourself a goddess,” you scream, fangs wet with her divine ichor. “Of mercy and compassion! But all you do is hand out tools of torture and punishment! I wanted to stay in my forest! I wanted to stay with my friends!” A hard shove, nearly knocking her over. “And you helped Sanzang take me away! You gave him these awful bands and he pretended they were gifts to get me to put them on! But they weren’t! And you let him! And now he uses them to hurt me! I hate you! I hate him! I hate all of you!”

Finally you collapse, sobbing openly into your hands.

Tang Sanzang watches in horror as heavenly blood feeds the ground, causing new and gorgeous growth to break from the soil, flowers blooming in massive clusters.

Wukong seethes that you could be so disrespectful to the one and only god he actually cares for, the only one he finds to be tolerable and kind.

Everyone else just recoils in both fear and hurt, your last words ringing painfully in the ears.

But Guanyin approaches once more, kneeling to level herself with you. There is no retribution or anger in her touch, placing a light kiss onto your forehead.

“You’re right, aren’t you? This journey has not been easy, nor has it been kind- and for you especially, perhaps it has been cruel. And I too, have been unkind to dabble in your affairs. Will you allow me to ease the burdens of your travel?”

From a silk pouch does she procure a mirror, pushing it into your shaking hands.

“My child, I give to you this heavenly mirror, which has been forged from blessed steel and holy sand melted to glass by dragonfire. To look upon it will show you your beloved forest, and all those you have left behind.”

———————————————————————-

Now, this is super important- Y/N’s involvement in the journey is incredibly unfair. The others come because they seek personal growth or redemption, but Y/N?

They had to come. They were tricked into thinking those golden tightening bands were gifts and eagerly asked Sanzang to help put them on, jumping up and down in excitement at receiving something so pretty. The only reason they agreed to wear these ‘generously’ gifted bands was because they thought it was an honest gift.

So there’s already a sense of betrayal about the whole thing, that their first gift from anyone was actually just a trap to pull them along on a lengthy and dangerous journey.

Then, where the others were either entirely willing (Sanzang) or had to redeem themselves for crimes or mistakes (Wukong), Y/N was forced to come along with their worst crimes being: fighting off invaders and killing poachers. And all for that, they are ripped from home and forced to leave behind everything they’ve ever known and loved.

And Guanyin does three things here:

1. Acknowledges your anger/sorrow.

2. Validates your feelings without hesitation.

3. Actively works to soothe them.

With the mirror in hand, you can look upon the Emerald Grove and see your old animal friends, know that they’re safe even without you, and put your fears to rest.

It’s not perfect.

But it’s a good start to get you to actually care about these pilgrims, given that you don’t spend every night in flurry of nightmares, thinking fitfully of your beloved forest.

[honeyshiddendesire]

Pet Name Headcanon List

Mihawk x Female Reader - Princess

Warnings: BLOOD PLAY/blood tasting!! Possible yandere/ vampire vibes 🤷‍♀️ Use of dagger, bondage/ bound, blindfolded & gagged reader, Vaginal penetration, prone bone, dirty talk, praise kink, pain kink, pussy eating,

*Also a little long only cause it's hard for me to do Blood Play and not add context and compassion @aehtery *

*banner*

Your arms were bound behind your back, thighs tied to stay together with a plush pillow under your hips to keep you slightly elevated. A gag in your mouth making you drool profusely, breath shaky from anticipation as a blindfold was on you hiding his next move. You didn't fear what was to come, knowing all you needed to do was snap your fingers and he would stop instantly. A way he could enjoy you quiet but also be at ease knowing you could still warn me. 

“My sweet princess~ I hope you know how beautiful you look, all bound and pretty, perfectly still and completely under my control.” His smooth voice dripped over you like honey that seeped into your psyche and you wanted to devour the sound forever. You shivered slightly as you felt cool metal run up the back of your leg, his voice being heard again. 

“Princess princess princess~ always so obedient, letting me do absolutely anything I desire.” Mihawk smirks then licks his lips as he stares at your perfectly naked form. “You know princess~ you belong to me…mind and soul but I should make sure you're body knows it too.” His deep voice calls to you, making your breathing pick up. “You see…I want to mark you…forever.” 

Your noises were muffled into the gag as Mihawk sat on your legs and as gently as possible carved an ‘M’ on your butt. Small and not too deep but he wanted it to scar, needed it to scar. “Doing so so well for me princess.” He hums as he kissed the other cheek before moving to lick at your soaked slit. Little whines leaving you at the mix of pain and pleasure that he put you through.

It was maddening the way he spelled his name into your cunt, his tongue diving in to swirl around and go as deep as he was able to. Pulling back to sloppily kiss at your clit making you whimper before kissing his way over to the fresh wound he had made. “My dear princess I must thank you for being so obedient, so good to me. Allowing me this privilege and many others to come.” Mihawk thanked as he licked the blood that started to drip.

“Mmm~ so sweet princess~” Dracule Mihawk's infatuation with blood reminded you of a vampire especially when he sucked on the mark earning a muffled scream from you. “Shhh princess~ you know I can't help myself.” He says with a chuckle. His hands remove the last bit of his clothes making you whine as you hear pants hit the floor. 

“Can't wait anymore dear. Need to have you princess~ the taste of your blood is insatiable.” His words are barely loud enough for you to hear but you don't care as you feel him slide his cock along your slippery folds. 

“Mmm~ my dear, my love, my sweet bloody princess~” Mihawk groans as he bullies his cock all the way inside in one sharp thrust, his hands caging you in on either side. His creamy hips flush with yours making you whimper as they pressed into the fresh wound drawing more blood. “My sweet darling.” Mihawk grunts as he pulls back to admire the blood that stained both of your skin now before slamming back into you.

His fingers sliding down to scope up some of the crimson liquid that spilled as his hips back away. Dipping his fingers into his mouth with a deep groan before slamming back into you. Mihawk's eyes rolled back at the taste of your spilled blood and maybe he was a vampire or maybe he was deranged either way, he was yours. 

“So magnificent, mi princessa~” Mihawk moaned, sucking his fingers clean before leaning down to wrap his arm under your neck. Ripping the gag off your face to pull your head back for a deeply passionate kiss. A moan spilling from your mouth into his at the metallic taste that flooded your senses. 

“Mihawk~!” You cried out at the merciless pace of his thrusts, his other arm snaking it's way between you and the pillow. Skilled fingers vigorously toying with your clit as his cock drilled into your cunt ripping a mind tingling orgasm from you. “Mmm that's it~ my bloody princess~”

[whumplump]

Auction

CW: bidding for a whumpee

The lights on the big stage came on and revealed the magnitude of the scene to everyone who attended the event. Rich men and women enjoyed their glasses of wine at the tables in the main hall. They fell silent to hear the auctioneer speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is an immense pleasure to welcome you here tonight!”

He signaled to his two companions, who headed towards the back of the stage.

“Tonight, I have a special offer for you, my dearings.”

The two men returned, dragging a medium-sized cage on wheels. The auctioneer walked over to it and removed the sheet covering it, revealing a wounded and cornered figure. The poor thing in the cage looked like a trapped animal, moving their eyes across the scene, passing each of the expressionless faces in the audience.

“Here we have a magnificent specimen. Young, healthy, except for these bruises which, by the way, I apologize for my team for causing them”, the auctioneer continued and the audience laughed.

He fit his arms through a recess in the cage and grabbed Whumpee by the back of their neck. He brought them closer for the audience to see, one hand firmly holding them in place, and the other gesturing to explain.

“Look, smooth, hydrated skin. See how the skin sits comfortably over the bones. It's well fed, you can see. Healthy eyes.” He held Whumpee's jaw with his other hand and forced them to open their mouth. “Perfect teeth. Also, I must inform you, it can read and write.”

Several people in the audience began to murmur among themselves, admiring the presentation of the species for sale. An individual raised his hand, but was interrupted by the auctioneer's explosive shout.

“So, let's get started! Who gives the most for it?!”

The audience started to make their bids. Rarely, the price would stand still and the auctioneer would threaten to end the bid, but before that happened, another guest would offer a higher price. Whumpee was released by the auctioneer and went to cower in the corner of the cell. They were shaking, more from the shock than from fear. Thousands of dollars were being offered in exchange for them, as if they were an artifact, a jewel. But Whumpee knew that, in the eyes of those people, they were worth less than that; a slave.

The competition between two specific guests was fierce. At one of the tables, Caretaker feared for the fate of the poor thing selling if they fell into the hands of a rich person with ill intentions, as were most of the people there. Whenever they bet an absurd amount, Whumper came up with an even higher one.

Caretaker squirmed in their seat and ate their own nails, such was their distress. They should be like Whumper, fight for that property. What would be the point of trying to stage a protest? Specimens like the one in the cage were sold at similar auctions every week. What was so interesting about agreeing with, or even trying to reprimand, these rich, sick people?

Whumper stood up from his chair and offered sixty thousand. Caretaker imitated the move and offered ten thousand more. Some other guests in the hall had the courage to increase their bids, but nothing more than a few tens of thousands, rising little by little.

Whumper decreed: 120 thousand.

The auctioneer tapped his shoes on the floor rhythmically. The final move made him jump with excitement.

“120 thousand! Going once…”

Caretaker looked wide-eyed at Whumper, who remained standing, certain of victory. They couldn't raise the bid. It was money they didn't have. If it was worth saving that poor thing in the cage, would it be worth lying and getting into debt?

“Going twice…”

Whumpee stood in the corner of the cell and approached the bars to look into the hall, full of rich snobs. Most were bored now that the bids were impossible to beat. Two guests, standing, one of them, looking at them with a kind of compassion, the other, with malice and possession.

“Sold!”

The room erupted in applause. Whumper smiled to himself and took a big sip from his wine glass in celebration. The auctioneer gave new signals to his companions, who were ready to take Whumpee's cell back to the back of the stage.

Caretaker did not applaud, and sat down defeated.

[munsonkitten]

cw: sexual discussions, gender dysphoria (trans Eddie Munson pov), virgin Eddie, mentions of period typical transphobia and homophobia

It comes as a bit of a surprise, when Steve comes out to Eddie as gay. Even more of a surprise when Steve follows it up with and I’m attracted to you. Eddie has to remind him, with clenched teeth, bracing for the impact of rejection, that he doesn’t have the parts Steve wants. 

“You think I care what’s in your pants, man? You’re hot, either way. I’m just saying, like, I’d fuck you,” Steve says, blowing smoke into the air in front of him. He’s sitting against the side of Eddie’s bed, hogging the joint Eddie rolled for them both. “I’m also, like, really fucking high. So forget I said all that.”

Eddie reaches over the edge of his bed and snatches the joint back before Steve can bring it to his mouth again. 

He takes a hit, letting the smoke fill his lungs while he ruminates on, well, all of that. 

“You sure you’re gay?” Eddie asks, settling on that question first. He winces as he says it, his own internal hangups taking hold of him. He knows he’s a man, there’s no doubt about that. He’s been validated to hell and back by Wayne, a bunch of older queers Wayne is friends with, and the one doctor in the state of Indiana that has shown him any kind of compassion. 

He just knows how other people are. How, despite him knowing who he is, a lot of people just see him for his cunt and his tits. Well, not like he has much of his tits left, not after the demobats performed a botched mastectomy on him and left him with one and a half breasts. The doctors that put him back together wouldn’t remove the rest. He knows that Steve could just be getting some wires crossed — yes, he could be attracted to Eddie, but Eddie has to ask if it’s really because he’s into men and sees Eddie as a man, or if… If it’s the alternative. 

“Pretty sure, man,” Steve answers. He tilts his head back over the edge of the bed and looks at Eddie, where he’s lying against his pillows. “Like, I don’t think about,” he waves vaguely at Eddie’s body, and Eddie knows he’s being careful, like he can’t just talk about him without overthinking each word. “I think about, like, how you pinned me to a wall with a bottle to my throat and I think about how you hotwired that RV. I was definitely into you during both of those things, and I had no idea about, you know.”

And that’s true. Eddie’s been hiding it pretty good since he moved to town. Buzzed his head in his bathroom the day his dad got arrested. Had a pretty good feeling his pops wasn’t coming back from this one before he even left. Usually he took Eddie along with him, but that final time he left him with a pile of change and a phone number and told him to call Wayne if he wasn’t back by the next afternoon.

Wayne took one look at him when he showed up, asked him about the buzzcut, asked him what name he was going by these days, and then took him to meet some friends. Didn’t even have time to meet any other kids before he started getting tips from an older trans man that Wayne met years back. Since then, Eddie kept his head down, his chest bound, and never uttered a sound until he got on testosterone and his voice started to deepen and crack along with all the other boys. 

“Okay, well now you do know, so,” Eddie points out. He shrugs, takes another hit and then passes the joint back down to Steve. “You’d really fuck me? Pussy and all?”

“I mean, I’ve got experience with it,” Steve says. “I just don’t like women, is all. You’re not a woman.”

Eddie doesn’t really get it. How Steve can go from Hawkins’ biggest lady killer to lounging on Eddie the freak Munson’s dingy bedroom floor saying he doesn’t like ladies at all. Steve Harrington, who, and it’s no secret, called Jonathan Byers a queer a few years ago and laughed when his slimy friends called other boys fags. Yet here he is, saying that Eddie’s a man. So much of a man that Steve says he’s gay and wants to fuck him in the same breath.

It doesn’t make any fucking sense. 

“What about you?” Steve asks. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Fuck me,” Steve clarifies. “Want to get fucked by me. I mean, hey if you’ve got a dick laying around, I’d let you put it in me, too. I don’t think I’m picky.”

Eddie sighs, dropping his head down to his pillow. This is where it gets tricky. Yeah, he’d have sex with Steve Harrington. Who wouldn’t? But as much experience as Steve has with pussy, Eddie’s a pussy with no experience. Other than a few drunken kisses in dark clubs eighty miles from home, he’s completely terrified of putting himself out there, and honestly for good reason too. 

Being gay in this town is hard enough, but if anyone finds out he’s trans, he’s fucking done for. It was scary enough realizing Steve knows, and he didn’t even have a choice in Steve finding out. Next time he tries to die, he’s gonna make sure he gets to a hospital instead of getting his clothes cut off on Steve’s parents’ bathroom floor. 

But yeah, Steve knows, and there’s no more risk of him finding out, and that’s pretty much the main reason Eddie hasn’t had sex with anyone, so. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he answers. 

“Cool,” Steve whispers. 

And that’s it. That’s all the conversation is. 

Steve crawls into Eddie’s bed and curls up beside him like they always do when he sleeps over, and he takes the joint from Eddie to take one last hit. He reaches over Eddie to put it in the ashtray and then lays back down.

“So, um,” Eddie says. Because he’s confused. He thought Steve was coming onto him. He thought this was a precursor for Steve coming in him. 

“What’s up?” Steve asks lazily, voice catching on a yawn. 

“Well, I’m glad we established all that, but, like… Are we not going to…?”

“What? Oh, no. I’m way too high,” Steve whispers, turning his face into Eddie’s shoulder. “Another time?”

Eddie laughs because he has no idea how his life became this. 

“Sure,” Eddie agrees. “Another time.”

Steve sits up, presses a loud, smacking kiss to Eddie’s temple, and then drops his head back down. He turns his face in toward Eddie’s neck, arm finding its place around Eddie’s waist. Eddie can’t see his face, but he thinks Steve’s pleased smile might just match his own. 

Read More on AO3

[666writingcafe]

Conspiracy

Simeon

This is wrong. How is any of this deemed acceptable?

Ever since my and Luke's return to the Celestial Realm following the announcement of an indefinite postponement of the opening ceremony for Diavolo's school, these thoughts have been constant in my head.

You see, Father feels like the brothers haven't been punished sufficiently enough for defying Him. It's not enough for them to merely be cast down to the Devildom. In His eyes, they don't deserve the opportunity to live a happy life down there. He'd much prefer to personally torture them for the next millennia or so before casting their souls down in Cocytus for all of eternity.

So, He gave Michael permission to do whatever it takes to get the brothers back up here. Michael decided that the easiest way to convince them to leave the Devildom would be by telling them that we're willing to pardon them for their digressions. And since Michael's presence down there would make the brothers highly suspicious, he's planning on taking on the form of Raphael during his trip. After all, most of the brothers are scared of Raphael, so they'd do anything to avoid his wrath.

And guess whose responsibility is it to make sure that Michael's impression of Raphael is pretty much perfect?

Fucking Raphael. How dare he put this on my plate?

I've been disgusted with myself this entire time. Father is literally having us break one of His commandments for what? Petty revenge? What happened to "love thy neighbor"? Did Lucifer wound His pride so severely that He's forgotten how to act?

And the worst thing about all this is that I am powerless to stop it. As it is, if anyone found out I was questioning His will, I might as well be joining the brothers in Cocytus. I'm already on thin ice as it is due to me keeping vital information about the brothers from Him before and during the war.

And somebody has to take care of Luke. I don't trust the others to keep him from harm's way. They'd exploit his innocence for their own selfish needs, and I won't allow that to happen.

So I've kept my objections to myself. Through Michael's training, through my return to the Devildom to deliver the message to Diavolo about "Raphael's" arrival, and through this stupid meeting in the prince's home office. In His eyes, I'm behaving like the perfect angel, blindly doing what I'm told.

And then I made the mistake of making eye contact with Zephyr. It's only momentary, and yet time seems to slow down to a crawl.

I can't have them disappointed in me. We didn't talk a whole lot during my initial visit, but I know that they have a strong moral compass. They'd reject me if they found out that I kept this from them.

Before I can question my emotions too much, the meeting ends, and the six of us--Michael, Lucifer, Diavolo, Barbatos, Zephyr, and myself--walk out of the office and make our way down the hallway. Zephyr and I trail behind the others.

I have to move quickly. Before I change my mind and before anyone notices.

There's a nearby door that's slightly ajar. Perfect.

I quickly grab Zephyr and drag them inside the room, making sure to reposition the door back to where it was as to not cause suspicion. The second they make noise, I cover their mouth with my hand. Their eyes widen as I begin listening for returning footsteps.

Thankfully, no one comes to investigate.

"Will you remain quiet if I remove my hand?" I whisper urgently. Zephyr nods their head. Sure enough, they don't begin screaming for help when I let go.

"Good sheep," I murmur, mentally smacking myself when I fully register what left my mouth. Zephyr remains silent. This room is rather small. Did I shove the two of us in a closet?

Oh, this isn't good. I can already feel myself begin heating up, and I'm pretty sure it's not just due to the cramped space we're in.

"Listen carefully, because I'm only going to be able to say this once," I quietly tell them. Another nod. "It's a trap. They're not getting pardoned. You have to do everything in your power to convince them to stay here." Zephyr tilts their head and looks contemplatively at me. Are they questioning my intentions?

A moment later, they softly smile at me.

"Don't doubt yourself," they whisper softly. "You're doing the right thing." They gently push the door open again, allowing me to leave the room first.

I needed to hear that.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[lillxart]

WIP Wed!

From a Sotha Sil x Lorkir fanfiction that's way on the back burner lol. Since I made that thing about Sotha Sil the other night, here's the fiction where my thoughts stemmed from!

Tagging: @ladytanithia @dirty-bosmer @hircines-hunter @sanza-17 @fujisakisan @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla @theoneandonlysemla @sulphuricgrin @sanza-17 @ijiwaruuma @pocket-vvardvark

Title: "From One to Another"

Lorkir woke up with the sun hitting her face. The rays of light from the clockwork city working as her natural alarm clock. The sounds that greeted her ears were the chirpings of machines given songs by her own voice. Echoes of secrets passed from one to another. The sheets underneath her body were warm, no doubt from the heat coursing through her blood. She stared out the window, face melancholic and heart empty. Facing the reality of what she had lost, the wishweaver turned away from the window and rolled to the other side of the bed, expecting it to be cold and vacant. 

“Ah, I see you’ve finally awoken.”

But…much to the God’s surprise…it wasn’t? “Sothalis.” She sat up, blanket languidly falling down her bare shoulder. 

Sotha Sil sat there in a pair of bedrobes (funny, she didn’t think he had bedrobes) with a cup of tea in his hand and a book with a title she didn’t recognize. The bronze mask that was on his face last night was now removed, only the metal arm remained permanently attached to him, seamlessly integrated into his dark skin. When the light caught the side of his face, the glow was almost too striking to witness. “I didn’t think you would take so long to wake up, considering you have no need of sleep in the first place.”

Still speechless, Lorkir opened and closed her mouth like a fish. Feeling terribly awkward, she blushed and covered herself with the blanket. “I…well…”

“My, to think I’d hear you speechless, I’m almost disappointed.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be next to me when I woke up.” Lorkir quickly replied. 

“I must leave some room in my countenance for surprises. At least, in cases like these where I am allowed.” Sotha Sil found amusement in his own statement, the corner of his mouth up turning into an almost smile. 

Lorkir had no idea where to go from here. For the first time in a while she was at a loss. The fluttering of her heart demanded that she cuddle up next to Sothalis, enjoy a quiet morning in peace while he continues to read his book and she reads along over his shoulder. However, knowledge of her predicament suggests that the wisest course of action would be that she carry on like before. She had done what she came to do, initially, and so she has no reason to stay. 

But how badly she wanted to stay. 

“Love is the greatest cloud over the mind. No matter how the sun shines how and how the seas rise, the clouds remain ever stagnant, until not even love itself can be seen…” Lorkir tilted her head at the quote. Sotha Sil lightly smirked and turned to face her. “Something Vivec told me once. Though what inspired the words was a situation far different from your own.”

“I can imagine… -~-;” Lorkir sighed. Making her decision she shifted over to Sotha Sil’s side of the bed. She towered over him, naturally. But despite the size difference she was able to get comfortable. Sotha Sil made no effort to stop her, nor relaxed in her embrace. He simply remained as he was, focused on what he was reading. The text on his lap were his own journal entries. He was looking over schematics, various concepts and dreams meant to be given reality through his machines. His passions. Some of his ideas were perfectly viable, others stretched into mad conjecture. But the witch God felt the intensity, the desperation with each stroke of ink on the paper. Her heart pounded for the soul that was so poisoned by its compassion. The very scent of the false God choking her lungs yet intoxicating her like wine. “Anything I can help with?” Lorkir, perhaps callously, offered. 

“There might still be some use for you yet.” How it hurt for him to say what she wanted to hear. 

When Sotha Sil finished his tea they rose from bed and got dressed, Lorkir taking in the beauty of his body before it was covered up by his attire. Sotha Sil knew she was staring, and gave a chance for her to act on her desires before he tied the sash around his waist. But, as he predicted, she fled from his gaze when he met her eyes. When he reached for his mask, however, something happened that he did not predict.  

“Wait.” A plea, not silent, but concise. Sotha Sil turned around and met her eyes once more. They were almost fragile, the emotion so perfect on her face because of the light that shined through her fractaled eyes. Lorkir came close to him and put her hand on the mask, slowly pushing it back down to the table. She knelt down on one knee so she could meet him and stroked his face with a gentle reverence that was too raw to verbally express. Despite the intensity of her passion, his expression remained the same. Lorkir studied his face, committing every detail to memory, as he had committed his clockwork city to his own memory. Finally, after a time, she leaned in and kissed the side of his face that was normally covered by his mask, now vacant of cold metal and instead soft and warm with living flesh. “...Sorry.” She took a step back, now returning to full height. 

“Does a gift giver apologize for giving gifts?” He replies. 

“If the gift is forced upon them is it still considered a gift?”

For that split second, Lorkir saw regret in his eyes. But it was gone as soon as he adorned his mask. “Will you be at my side today, as you have been? Or shall you depart?” 

Do you want me here? It was on the tip of her tongue, but Lorkir couldn’t bring herself to say it. “I’ll stay a while. Not so long that I’ll make your clockwork disciples nervous.” the God teased. 

Sotha Sil chuckled. “I believe you already make them a great deal nervous.” He opened the door to his bed chambers and they left for the day. 

Lorkir did say she would be at his side, but she had developed a routine of flying around the clockwork city during the morning. The beautiful gears shimmering in the light while petals from apple blossom trees were carried by the wind. It was a picture perfect sight, and the God enjoyed basking in it greatly. The sight of a dragon flying around the city brought great terror the first time it happened, but now there was only slight unease instead of fear. A positive progression, she supposes. 

Finding her favorite spot near the top of one of the towers, Lorkir landed and discarded her dragon avatar. She felt a chill as her feet touched the metal, before fully laying down and staring up at the turning sky. 

Absolutely beautiful. And how easily she was lulled by it. 

Sotha Sil worked in the heart of the city, locked away in his laboratory. What he was attempting was nothing short of extraordinary and required a delicate hand and quiet mind. To craft a new imperfect took immense concentration, building off of what he had learned previously. Yet despite his complete focus on the task, his desire separated itself from him. A separate entity that stood behind him, beckoning his mind to stray from the task at hand. 

His mind should not be consumed with her.

Lorkir, the God of Covetousness, the Wishweaver, the White Dragon and Bane of the Firstborn Son. She was the source of horrors written in stone yet untold by word of mouth. She represents all forms of temptation, of folly, her mere existence meant to unravel any heart. And Sotha Sil cannot allow his heart to be unraveled. From the moment he saw her approaching in the distance he knew a great doom would threaten the role he was now compelled to. Every stolen whisper, every freely given smile, every glance in desire is a crack in a carefully constructed mirror that he has built for himself. Lorkir knows this, in truth, he knows that she does. And yet she lurks like a shadow, mouth open and wanting, begging to be fed by him. And, though he cannot admit it, how badly he is tempted to allow himself to be consumed. “I have made the gravest mistake someone in my position can make, and I knowingly continue in it…” Seht rubbed his forehead, exasperated with his own lingering weakness. 

“Seht, I have prepared your tea, as you have asked.” One of the Clockwork disciples entered into his chambers bringing the camomile tea with honey per his request. A look of worry was etched onto the Dunmer’s face, since the great Sotha Sil rarely asks for refreshments.

“Thank you. It is much appreciated. Now, go and seek out Lorkir. I suspect she has fallen asleep somewhere in the city. Wake her up, and inform her that I request her presence.”

“Yes, Great Seht.” The disciple scurried away.

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

Seungmin Jealousy

SKZ Jealousy series pt. 7: (when they're in a serious relationship do they get jealous at all? What makes them jealous if they get jealous? How do they act in a relationship? What's their response/behavior when jealous? How do they handle it?)

He’s a jealous partner. And he’s very harsh when he’s jealous. Very blunt with his words, not pulling punches that probably should be pulled.

Now, his jealousy is more…Intuitive? I guess? He has a surprisingly good intuition when it comes to matters like these. However, it can also very easily lead into delusion/carrying things away once something actually DOES happen.

Another who finds jealousy to be draining. And he doesn’t like partners who drain him at all. Definitely the type who may dump someone if they go out of their way to make him jealous. May even consider it a form of cheating? To actively seek out another guy to hit on/get TOO buddy buddy with just to make him jealous knowing he doesn’t like it and wouldn’t do that to his partner. Either way he sees it as a sort of betrayal.

It also gets old very rapidly, so if the partner is constantly doing things that put him off and in that state he’ll just think that they’re not compatible and break up, plain and simple.

He definitely gets very spiritually and emotionally and just mentally attached to partners, so I think acts that lead to jealousy hit a lot deeper when they’re intentional. (Ex: His partner actively flirting with another guy, repeating things that he’s told them he’s not comfortable with them doing with other guys, etc.) it honestly hurts a lot for him, especially after all the emotions and adrenaline dies down and he’s just left with his thoughts and the act that happened.

I think he has the potential for sticking around through a lot of jealousy though.

He’s a very much go with the flow kinda partner generally. So when he’s jealous, it’s even more stark of a contrast. When he’s jealous he’s impulsive, and he definitely gets jealous very suddenly, like one second he’s fine the next he’s frothing at the mouth from pure jealousy. But he also gets over his jealousy very rapidly.

Definitely the type who acts on it though. Like will remove his partner from the situation and keep them away from whatever it is caused the jealousy very quickly, so it can die down quicker.

Jealousy is something he needs strength to endure. Because for him, it’s a massive obstacle for the relationship and something he needs to get over for it to work. He also needs a lot of discipline not to just let it get to him a lot and fly off the handle.

I also think it stems from a place of not believing he’s good enough for his partner deep down. Or not trusting in himself enough, which therefore makes the jealousy even more stressful to him because he has this “This is how I finally lose them” mentality.

His mind is racing and overactive, and he’s generally just very scattered when jealous. There’s also this kind of idealism while it’s happening too though. Like he’s trying to convince himself everything isn’t going to go to shit while also actively convincing himself everything WILL go to shit, and it’s just a draining mental mess.

And trust he’ll use his words, but he’s also got too much going on in his mind to really articulate it Al properly, and probably ends up starting an argument just trying to set/assert boundaries, which then turns into a shit show because this man’s words can be absolutely cutting.

He tries to be optimistic and trust that everything will turn out well, or at least the way it’s supposed to. And also trying to keep his compassion with him so he doesn’t do anything too drastic or crazy or whatever.

Probably ends up walking away from the situation for a while before coming back to actually talk about it once he’s sorted it out.

He’s open and he’s honest about his jealousy and his feelings and what he is/isn’t okay with, and just everything involving the matter. That’s also why he hates when people intentionally make him jealous or constantly do things that have histories of making him jealous, because it makes him feel they either don’t care or ignore him.

I definitely think how he gets over these things is talking to or just being around close friends specifically. It helps him reenergize and take his mind off it for a moment before tackling it. Probably talks about it with them to make sure he’s thought of both sides and to see if it was actually intentional or not.

But overall he can’t take much jealousy in relationships.

[rubilune]

Kaveh: Unfollow me if you think the Earth is flat.

Alhaitham: *seriously pretends to be a flat- earther to antagonize Kaveh.*

Dehya: *neutral but makes polls to start fights, "Is the Earth flat? Let's discuss!"*

Cyno: *not a flat-earther but makes "the Earth may be flat but this ass ain't" jokes for viral tweets*.

Traveler: *actual flat-earther.*

Get the irony? Although, to be fair, there's probably at least one world the twins have visited that was flat

Dehya: The only time I take the high road is if marijuana is involved.

Tighnari: You're insane!

Traveler: Sure I am, what's your point.

Nilou: They... well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff?

Cyno: Um, murder???

Traveler: Adventuring!

Dehya: Tuesday.

Alhaitham: This is a bad idea.

Kaveh: Then why are you coming along?

Alhaitham: Someone has to get your injured ass home.

Dehya: Bye Traveler! Bye Kaveh! Bye Cyno! Bye Tighnari! Bye Traveler!

Alhaitham: You said 'bye Traveler' twice.

Dehya: I like the Traveler.

Nilou: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.

Cyno: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

Paimon, jumping out of Traveler's closet: BOO!

Traveler:

Paimon:

Traveler:

Paimon: *makes a sad face*

Traveler: Ahh! Oh my god! You scared me!

Alhaitham: I don't even have time to tell you how wrong you are.

Traveler: Okay?

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham: Actually it's gonna bug me if I don't, so-

Tighnari, to the others: And remember, if I get harsh with you it is only because you're doing it all wrong.

Alhaitham: Italics.

Traveler: Yeah, Italians.

Wrong world, Traveler

Kaveh: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Alhaitham: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Kaveh: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns???

Alhaitham, deadpan: Is it working?

The poor guy just wants to sleep without hearing someone building shit all night

Alhaitham: Don't worry, I have a permit.

Cyno: ... This just says "I can do what I want".

Tighnari: Hi, I'm Cyno's emergency contact.

Counter Person: You're here to pick him up?

Tighnari: I'm here to remove myself as his emergency contact.

Traveler: Do you even, cuddle, bro? Do you even lift, bro... each other up with kindness? Do you tell your loved ones that you care about them regardless of who is listening? DO YOU EVER RESOLVE CONFLICTS, EMOTIONAL ISSUES THROUGH COMPROMISE AND COMPASSION RATHER THAN ANGER AND DENIAL?!

Traveler after witnessing the 100th homosexual situationship of Tevyat

Tighnari: Are you drinking enough water?

Kaveh: Sometimes my tears get in my mouth.

Alhaitham: There are three ways to handle a difficult situation. The right way, the wrong way, and the Kaveh way.

Traveler: Isn't that the wrong way?

Alhaitham: Yes, but it's faster.

Cyno: I'm gonna get my pilot's license. I've already got a driver's license and a cosmetology license, that's two of the big five licenses.

Tighnari: The big five licenses?

Cyno: Driver's license, cosmetology license, pilot's license, fishing license, and... license to kill! I can't wait to get that one.

He probably already has that last one but let's pretend

Kaveh: There's no meeting today because Alhaitham is at the police station.

Cyno: He's in jail?!

Tighnari: We have to get him out!

Dehya: Jailbreak! I'm in!

Nilou: I'll dress up and distract the guard!

Traveler: Ooh, I'll bake some food to help distract ALL the guards!

Cyno: I guess I could bring my frying pan in case we need a shield to keep us from being shot-

Kaveh: No! Alhaitham wasn't arrested! He's undercover, taking the system down from the inside. He doesn't need our help!

Someone messed with his vacation schedule, maybe

Traveler: A banker? Me?

Cyno: Yes, Traveler.

Traveler: But I don't know anything about running a bank!

Cyno: Good. No preconceived ideas.

Traveler: I've robbed banks!

Cyno: Capital! Just reverse your thinking. The money should be on the inside.

Traveler: We have heart?

Tighnari: We can't lose. Because we have this. *points to his chest*

Tighnari: Heart? No, me. I'm pointing at myself. I'm going to win this for us.

Dehya, to the Traveler: Please, picking locks is my specialty.

Dehya: *throws a brick through the window*

Dehya: Okay, let's go.

Alhaitham: *fast-forwards all the way through the movie*

Traveler: You can't just skip to the happy ending!

Alhaitham: I don't have time for their problems.

Kaveh: The results are in, I'm afraid you have updog...

Tighnari: What's updog?

Kaveh: Alhaitham! Get in here, I told you I could do it!

Traveler: I would let you ruin my life.

Kaveh: Sorry, I'm busy ruining my own. You'll have to wait.

Traveler: Just so everyone knows, don't ever try to climb a tree at night carrying a strobe light, owls DON'T like it.

Tighnari: ...what happened?

Traveler: I made a VERY bad mistake.

Traveler: The only thing I'm guilty of is being adorable......and also assault with a deadly weapon.

Alternatively it could be feral Nilou or regular Tighnari, but I think it fits the Traveler better

Tighnari: I hope you have an explanation for this.

Kaveh: We have three, actually!

Alhaitham: Pick your favorite.

Tighnari: You gotta slow down and smell the flowers... appreciate life's miracles.

Tighnari: Like me. I'm life's greatest miracle.

Kaveh: I feel like the world would be better if I'd never been born.

Alhaitham: Aw... that's not true.

Alhaitham: It'd be exactly the same.

Alhaitham: You're not important.

I mean, he's not wrong. None of us are important in the grand scheme of things

Traveler: What are amphetamines?

Tighnari: Drugs that can go on land and water.

Traveler: Ohhhh.

Alhaitham: To be honest, I'm kinda pissed that. I'm not asleep in bed next to the love of my life in a cottage with no obligations other than watering my vegetable garden.

Kaveh: *mixing different alcoholic beverages together*

Tighnari: What are you making?

Kaveh: A mistake.

Nilou: Cool, any other secrets?

Dehya: I still sleep with the blanket I had as a baby.

Nilou: Awww-

Dehya, stern: I use it as a gag when taking people's pets hostage.

Nilou:

Nilou: There's no punch line 'cause it's not a joke isn't it?

*On a hike*

Kaveh: It's beautiful out here.

Tighnari: And quiet.

Kaveh: Too quiet.

Tighnari: Did we lose someone?

*Cut to the Traveler with a bear in a headlock*

Traveler (as Lumine): You don't think I can fight because of my gender!

Kaveh: I don't think you can fight because you're in a wedding dress. For what it's worth, I don't think Cyno can fight in that dress either.

Cyno: Perhaps not. But I would make a radiant bride.

Alternatively:

Traveler (as Lumine): You don't think I can fight because of my gender!

Kaveh: I don't think you can fight because you're in a wedding dress. For what it's worth, I don't think Alhaitham can fight in that dress either.

Alhaitham: Perhaps not. But I would make a radiant bride.

All lines are Alhaitham lines if you read them in the most deadpan matter of a fact voice possible

[deangirlsstuff67]

Dirty Boy

Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: dirty talk, fingering, fluff, unprotected sex, P in V, period sex, blood, PWP

Summary: Y/N is trying hard not to let on that's she's in pain due to her period coming yesterday. Crippling cramps take over her body when she's left to baby sit Soldier boy and he notices.

Masterlist | Patreon

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Butcher and the boys left to do some recon and get supplies. Leaving you in charge of babysitting the nuclear bomb of a supe. To make matters worse your period showed up yesterday and your body has been in a constant state of pain all morning.

So far no one's noticed when cramps shoot crippling pain through your body. You've been able to fight against the pain. But it's slowly getting stronger and harder to hide.

Your going in to check on the supe and see if he needs anything when cramps take over your body and you double over in pain while standing in his door way.

Soldier Boy is over to you in seconds. Strong hands rub your back as you breath throw the pain in the fetal position on his bedroom floor. The pain eases enough that you can open your eyes, but you aren't prepared for what you see.

Soldier Boy kneeling over you with worry imprinted on every inch of his gorgeous face. Those beautiful bright green eyes are shining with concern... for you? You didn't know this man could even have compassion in him.

Never have you seen a supe look so genuinely concerned for someone's well-being before.

"Can you walk to the bed, Doll?"

You only nod and accept his hand to help you up off the dusty floor. He guides you to lay on the bed before disappearing into the ensuite bathroom. Moments later he's back with a hot cloth that he lays on your lower belly.

How the fuck does he know?

"Super hearing but also super smell," he looks nervous to even be telling you all this, "I can smell you." He gestures to your lower half.

Chuckling you can't help what comes from your mouth, "God that must be the worst." He joins you now both laughing out loud at this fucked up situation.

"Not as bad as one would think." He lowers his big hand to lay on top of the cloth. The heat radiating off him helps soothe my cramping lower stomach.

"You know it's none of my business, but I do know another way to ease your pain."

He's leaning on his arm as he lays beside you warming you with his body. The air around us changes as he peers down at me. I watch as he's green eyes turn black with desire. I've heard of people who claim orgasms help with period cramps, just never had the nerve to experiment with it.

"I, um... I've done that before. Don't you find it gross?"

His face softens as he takes me in, "Trust me sweetheart I've hand blood on my hands before, nothing about bringing you pleasure would gross me out."

With a dark smile he adds, "plus knowing I'd be the only one every in your body while like this..." He grabs my hand and brings it to rest on his harden cock in those fucking grey sweatpants, "makes me so fucking hard I could cut diamonds baby." He whispers in my ear.

I clench my thighs together at the picture he's painting in front if me.

"Of course only if you want to though." He adds.

Another series of cramps take over my body. I scrunch my body together in hopes to fight off the pain. It's so bad I feel sick to my stomach. Without thinking too far into it, I grab his hand and place it on the clothed core.

At this point there isn't anything I wouldn't do just to feel some relief.

Soldier Boy just smiles before diving his big strong hand into the sides of my sweats and pull them down, "alright."

Before I can think too much of it I feel him removing my tampon and then two thick fingers going knuckle deep into my sore, angry center. He finds my g spit within seconds and starts pumping hard and fast. A man on a mission.

I can't bring myself to watch his hands in me. Scared of what kind of murder scene I'll find. He leans of to kiss me gentle before watching where our bodies are connected, "fuck that's hot y/n."

Your orgasm is fast to appear at the hands of this powerful supe. Before you know it your clamping down around his digits and soaking the sheets below.

A growl vibrates his chest when you whisper out, "fuck... Soldier Boy."

"Doll, I'm about to be balls deep in your hungry little pussy and stained with your blood, pretty sure you can call me Ben."

How does he make it sound so fucking hot. Sex on your period shouldn't be this hot. He rises on the bed taking his sweat pants and shirt off. Then he crawls over me and starts undressing me slowly. Nipping and licking his way down my body.

When he gets to my hips I tense, "relax Doll, I won't go there unless you want me too." Fuck this man is a dirty bastard.

"You're a dirty boy, you know that?" Ben pushes a finger back into me, playing with my soft walls, "in a minute you'll enjoy that about me."

Then he's feeding his big cock into me. Inch by glorious inch slide deep into my heat. Ben eyes are glued to where we are connected, watching my body wither and shake as I struggle to take him all.

What feels like hours later he's balls deep in my cum and blood soaked pussy. A grunt leaves his chest when our hips meet. Kissing my lips he lowers his head to my ear, "you feel too good clinging tp my cock pretty girl, I'm not going to last. This is going to be rough and fast."

All you can do is nod and moan as he withdraws to the tip before slamming back into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

He didn't lie, he took you fast and hard. Making you cum three more times before he let's out a growl before you feel his cum paint your inner walls.

When the last of his semen leaves his tip, he slowly pulls out of you with a squelching noise. He gets off the bed and you see the mess of blood and cum all over his dick and public hair.

Covering your face in embarrassment, you sigh. What he must think of you now.

Your arms are pulled from your face, "don't hide from me. You have no reason to be embarrassed." Your eyes are still closed, unable to meet his gaze.

"Look at me y/n." You do as your told, only to be met with such a loving sight. "That was fucking incredible. And I will be doing it again with you..." He moves your sweaty y/h/c hair away from your face, "are you feeling better?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now let's go get cleaned up. I wanna make you dirty again. I like you in red." He bends to pick you up as if you weighted nothing and sends you a sexy wink.

"You're a very dirty boy, Ben."

[buckets-and-trees]

On this fine Sunday morning, enjoy the thot of Bucky and Ari waking you up too early, but in a way that you can't complain about (you literally can't complain since something's in your mouth....)

To wake up to this ask? Have you no compassion on this the Lord’s day of rest?

No rest for the wicked on Sinday though…

So how about just a little drabble in the sheets?

Title: Crimson Mornings Word Count: 500

Content/Warnings: explicit smut: mmf threesome, implied Somnophilia, fingering (mouth, vaginal, anal), light cumplay

You moan, stirring from sleep, but then you’re jolted from sleep and your eyes fly open, slight panic rising when you register your mouth is filled with two fingers, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Shh, doll,” Bucky’s deep voice the first thing for your brain to process, “close those lips and breathe through your nose.”

“And don’t let your pretty little head start to think,” Ari murmurs in your ear, his body pressed up against your back. “We finally broke you last night. Didn’t think we’d wait to play with our pretty girl again, did you?”

Ari brings one of his hands up to hold and caress your throat while Bucky begins to stroke his fingers slowly over your tongue. You whimper and close your eyes again. It’s too early to see anything yet in the dimmest traces of dawn nudging into the room. But you don’t need to do anything other than give your body over to these two men who were relentless in getting you between them and proved to be insatiable once they’d conquered you.

And you had tried to evade them for too long. Unable to move between them now, part of you wondered why. But a small whisper in the back of your mind still prodded around the edges of the pleasure they were already plying to your body that it was because you were certain they would consume you between them.

Bucky’s thigh was already wedged between your legs, opening you up, and with how wet you were with Ari’s fingers delving between and along your slick folds, you had no idea how long they’d been manipulating your body this morning.

Removing his fingers from your tongue, Bucky presses closer, chest to naked chest, laps at the drool that’s spilled out of your mouth at his ministration, and covers your lips with his, kissing you with unsatisfied hunger. His wet fingers join Ari’s at your cunt, and you writhe in pleasure, basking in the bliss.

But it was only a moment. They had other plans.

Ari’s fingers draw long strokes through your slick from your clit down to your hole, up and down, working in tandem with Bucky, and then he draws them further back, splitting between your ass cheeks and nudging at your tight puckered hole.

You yelp in surprise, turning your head abruptly to escape Bucky’s lips. “No, I’ve never-“ you protest.

“You will,” Ari growls into your neck. He presses his finger slowly but determinedly into your anus, only just enough to breach.

You gasp at the feeling.

Bucky mouths hot, wet kisses along your jaw. “We will only stop if you say the safe word.”

“You remember your word, right, Baby?” Ari prompts. His finger coaxes gently but insistently right there inside the entrance of your tight virgin hole.

You whimper and nod.

He squeezes at your neck. “Gotta hear it for sure.”

“Crimson,” you keen, both of your hands gripping Bucky’s shoulders.

“Good girl.”

“Now we’ll wreck you,” Ari promises, and he presses his finger further in.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[cookeybg]

Autumn's Loss of Petals - Chapter 1

Title: Autumn's Loss of Petals

Various POVs : Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson

Tags: Angst, Loss of love, amnesia, brotherly love, familial love, will add more if relevant

Obviously, I do not own any of the rights to any of the DC comics, animated cartoons or movies and I am not getting paid to write this. This is purely for my enjoyment :)

Word Count: 1,936

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Damian

“Before I have you sign, I must ask, are you sure you want to go through with this?” Dr. Sato’s soft kind eyes looked at Damian with compassion. "Must you keep asking me such an inane question, I've already said yes." Damian snapped, he hated seeing the look of pity everyone kept giving him. "It is an important question, many think they can go through with this without fully grasping the consequences." Dr. Sato's eyes somehow turned softer when he smiled, a tinge of sadness marred the corners of his eyes. "It's just protocol, little D." Dick reached out to pat Damian's hand only to be swatted away. "He is my child, once he has made up his mind he will stay strong." Talia stroke Damian's head gently, she was not swatted away. "If you would only tell us who it is, we might be able to set things right. Before going through with such a major surgery." Bruce crouched next to where Dick sat, his hand hovered over Damian's. Jason snorted where he leaned against the door frame and Tim, sitting in the chair next to the door, paused in his typing. "There is no point if the object of his affection doesn't reciprocate." Talia glowered at Bruce, who glared back, finally placing his hand on Damian's. "Yes, well," Dr. Sato cleared his throat, "if you have determined that this is for the best, please sign the release form so we can begin the surgery." Damian rolled his eyes. He didn't understand why his family had to be here, he would have been fine on his own. He grabbed the clipboard the doctor had handed him and signed his name neatly. He coughed, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth. He was too late, a bit of blood had splattered on the consent form. Removing his hand he stared down at it, a clump of thick white petals came with it. He felt the room silence, his family ready to fight an opponent they could not punch. He felt weak, his breath coming in short, burning his throat, leaving a sour taste. He felt pathetic and that was the worst feeling of all. He hated that this was what had become of him. That he had let his feelings rule him in this way. His mother had warned him all his childhood that love would only hurt him, would hinder him; yet here he was beholden to it, ruined by it. "Tt." He crushed the petals in his hand. He grimaced, feeling the hateful tears, that he had tried to keep at bay, drip down his cheeks. A choked sob escaped him, before a hacking cough over took it. He clutched at his chest, the noise from the heart monitor attached to him rising to dangerous levels, the temperature in his head skyrocketing, forcing his veins to bulge, a high pitched ringing overtook his hearing. His fingers dug into in cheeks, his palms covering his open mouth, preventing the bloody saliva from splattering out. His forehead bumped his knees with the force of the last cough. With watery eyes he saw a full flower in his cupped hands, it's waxy white petals let the blood it came out with slide off with ease, dripping, staining the white hospital blanket. The strong sweet smell of it mixed sickeningly with the smell of iron and bile. The ringing gradually dropped and when he looked up his family were being pushed to one side, their panicked faces pale under the florescent lights. A nurse pat his back, telling him to lay back, trying to comfort him. Dr. Sato pushed his medical bed forward, his calm soft demeanor gone, replaced with the concentration and determination of a doctor who had been working in this field for decades. They rushed him out of the room, the white sterile walls blurring in their wake. He knew he was dying, his head light, his limbs heavy. He felt relief. When they placed him on the metal bed of the operating room, they placed a plastic mask over his nose and mouth, told him to breathe in and count backwards. He saw a pair of blue eyes reflecting the sky, tousled black hair and a smile brighter than the sun, his arms opened wide, beckoning him for one last hug.

Soft light streamed in through the large window, gently waking Damian up from his dreamless sleep. His mouth felt like sandpaper, his throat felt worse, he tried to lift his hand to rub at it but a weight prevented the action. The weight was warm, comforting and when he looked down he saw Talia holding his hand, half her body laying on the mattress. He tried to call her but all that came out was a rasp, the effort was too much and he fell back into unconsciousness.

“When do you think he will wake up?” Dick asked, pacing the room. “According to records from other’s surgeries, it can take anywhere from a couple of hours after surgery to three days.” Tim said sitting next to Bruce on the beige couch, his face hidden behind his opened laptop. “How do…did you hack the hospital records?” Dick asked stopping in front of Tim. “Is it really considered hacking if it was so easy?” Tim scoffed. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Dick said. “What, you going to arrest him, pig?” Jason was lounging on the recliner, an open book in one hand. “Boys, please let’s be respectful to your brother’s recovery.” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, his hair looked like it needed brushing, his dress shirt rumpled and unkempt. Damian watched his family bicker with half opened eyes, he was already annoyed with them. He carefully glanced around, he no longer stayed in the sterile white hospital room he had first been admitted to. He could tell that his father had put him in a private hospital room complete with a two seater couch, two reclining chairs, a coffee table and a giant 4k television hung on the wall. The walls were a light warm colored wood and the giant window that basically covered one side of the room faced the peaks of mountains. He tried to tell them to shut up, instead what came out was a soft gasp. The gasp left a burning sensation in his throat, he needed water. “Little D!” Dick rushed towards him, “How are you feeling? OMG I’m so relieved that you’re awake.” He sobbed, clasping Damian’s hand to his chest, being careful of the IV needle embedded in it. Bruce and Tim had followed Dick, but were much more reserved. His father looked relieved, smiled at him and ruffled his hair. Tim smirked, the bags under his eyes looked darker and more defined. Jason had left the room, when he returned he brought a nurse with him. The nurse worked around them, checking Damian’s vitals, while Dick prattled on about how relieved Kori and Mari would be when they found out he had woken up. Damian did not have the energy to make Dick shut up, though he was relieved he was there, something he would never admit to. The nurse gave Bruce a cup of shredded ice, giving him instructions to feed it to Damian slowly. She helped put him in a sitting position, adding pillows for back support. She then excused herself, stating that she would inform the doctor of his wakefulness. The ice that his father fed him was the best thing he had ever tasted. He wanted more, was frustrated when he couldn’t snatch the cup away due to his heavy limbs. He was shaky and uncoordinated, Tim and Jason teased him, taking advantage of the fact that he couldn’t retaliate both physically and verbally. Bruce scolded them, feeding Damian another sliver of ice that melted far too quickly on his overheated tongue. The room quieted down when Dr. Sato walked in, his soft smile directed to the whole room, when it landed on Damian it softened further.

“I am happy to see you awake. If you would allow me to do a few tests?” He indicated for the rest of the family members to leave the room. They all reluctantly complied, Bruce squeezed his shoulder telling him to call if he needed him. Damian rolled his eyes, why would he need him? Dr. Sato gave him a brief check up, checking his breathing with a stethoscope and his eyes with a small pen light. When satisfied, the doctor brought the stool chair that had been under the hospital computer in the room, close to the bed, sat on it, looked at his clipboard and then gave Damian a serious look. “Physically, it seems that you will recover wonderfully.” Dr. Sato stated, “Do you remember why you had this operation?” Damian scoffed, opened his mouth to respond, but when he realized that he couldn’t remember his mouth shut with an audible clack. He rubbed at his neck, trying to message it, trying to distract from the uncomfortable feeling of blankness. He looked around the room, did he get hurt? Obviously, his throat burned and he had bandages wrapped around his neck, but what hurt him? His hand slowly drifted down to his chest, he had bandages there too, the skin felt painful, inflamed, he hadn't noticed before. "I was hurt." Damian rasped, unsure of his respond. "In a way," Dr. Sato nodded, "we removed a growth from your lungs and heart, it was causing an obstruction to your airways." He tried to remember, a subtle image of a memory crept up and quickly slipped away. It felt like a cold bolt had struck him, the sudden pain making him wince. "No, don't," Dr. Sato patted the blankets next to Damian, "rushing it will do you no good and will only hurt. Many patients in your shoes will have temporary amnesia, slowly you will regain most of your memories." "Most?" Damian couldn't go above a whisper, his throat burning with any effort of speech. "Hm, yes, all of the relevant memories will return, except for the ones that caused the injury in the first place." Dr. Sato wrote something on his clipboard and stood up, "You were very brave, I am glad you pulled through. I will inform your family to give you some time alone to process, I'm sure they would like to go eat and shower. Please rest, you need plenty of it." He smiled and left, the door giving a soft click as it shut. Damian stared at his hands, a faint image of white petals lingered, but he couldn't remember the shape. He shakily touched his chest, it was solid, his flesh intact under the gauze. He took a deep breath, it tasted of blood but it was clear. His heart beat without constraint, comfortable in his chest. Damian could feel it, that something was missing, he gripped his hospital gown. It felt like he could reach in if he pressed a bit harder, like he could fill the cold void left behind by whatever they had removed. Fill it with his fist, squeeze his heart so that it could feel warm. It was an silly thought, dangerous even, he should be grateful that it was gone. Wet droplets landed on his hand, large and hot, with a shock he realized they were tears. He was crying and couldn't figure out why, all he knew was that this emptiness was unnatural. He had forgotten something important. He wanted his father, he wanted his mother, he needed his family.

I will be experimenting with different POV's for this fic, but they will all be Damian-centric. I hope you enjoyed it and I hope I got the imagery across.