#thread: rattling his cage

[sillygum]

@fearinducing

Is now a good time? Maybe over dinner would be best? Luffy's sure if his father has any say ( which he has most of) he'd never leave the house or think of leaving. It's not fair and they both know it. Luffy isn't a child anymore and the world is a huge place, filled with more people than assassin's.

The deep scar on his cheek twinges like it wants to itch.

No, he's not a child, that indecent was nearly eleven years ago and it wasn't his fault. He'd done as his father said, kept busy, kept quiet and — no. Luffy shakes his head and takes a deep breath. He's nineteen, basically a man with no life experience and he's outgrown this place buuuut what if something happened again?

Slim fingers pull at his cheeks, the circular thinking liable to drive him crazy instead of a no.

Don't give him a reason to say no. Do you wanna die here?

“Wani.” He clears his throat, back a little to straight and hands stiffly at his side. Luffy slinks into his father's office like a inchworm, doesn't mean to make himself small but he is. The young man is lanky, sharply dressed in light green button down and cool color argyle sweater vest with his grey house shoes on. He's always been on the smaller side and has always wondered when another growth spurt would attempt to lessen their height difference.

“I wanna—” he takes another breath, hands gripping the side of his slacks. “I wanna go to another island.” It's out and the flood gates open. “Not a far one but ya know, I wanna explore ‘n obviously not alone.” He laughs. “Oh course not alone but ya know we've been on Arabasta forever, all the books you bring me have all these cool places ‘n I wanna go there!” His anxiety is somehow under control, excitement even bubbling into his words. “I'm old enough now and—and I think it'd be fun. Sailing looks fun and all of it looks fun!” The food, the people, the wildlife, all of it's outside those doors. A life of adventure, glory, treasure … friends.

“Again, not a far one.” Throws his hands up to emphasize his point as he pats the air. “And not alone.” As many guards as it'd take, even if it's a buzzkill he's willing to compromise. “If you don't say yes well…” The anxiety is back, dark eyes quickly darting away from the man to look at the wall then the floor. When he speaks again it's mumbled, words barely moving his lips. “I'll do it anyway.”

[baishouqijia]

also, just to have this on my blog and not hidden in my carrd - i love dupes! i love other pantalones! i understand its not for everyone, but if u ever want to throw your 'lone at my 'lone, i think that could be something very special and i'm always up for it

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

So It Goes...

Gold cage, hostage to my feelings Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Teen. Summary: Today's the day you've been dreading... letting everyone know. Little do you know your day is about get worse... Dieter has to leave. Warnings: pov switching, pining, fluff, comfort, so much inner turmoil for them (don't worry they'll figure it out soon), call back to one of my favorite simpsons episodes, a secret reference to drag race because @devineconjuring is very funny, croissants Words: 3,400

A/N: Help, I've fallen for characters I've written and I can't stop writing out scenarios. If you love Dieter and Golden Girl like me, welcome back. The biggest most grandest thank you to @devineconjuring for being the bestest beta who lets me yell insane typo'd ramblings to her. She gave me the title suggestion and also is so smart and wonderful and excuse me, I have to go wave a flag with her name on it as I march in a parade in her honor. Previous Chapter Masterlist

*** His phone shrills him awake at 8:25. 

ALEX DAVIES CALLING

Shit. 

He gently shuffles out of the bed, instantly missing your touch when he delicately lifts your arm off his chest. He quickly tiptoes out the room and answers the call.

“Alex,” he whispers, eyes focused on the framed wedding photos that hang across the hall from the guest room. 

“Sorry to call so early, Bravo, but Spencer’s decided to go a different way and he’s going to need you for reshoots on Bittersuite. He needs them stat, so your hiatus has been cut short.” 

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How short?” He steps closer to the collection of photos, focusing on the photo of you smiling in front of a grand bookcase full of leather books. Your white wedding dress with the delicate threads of golden ivy flourishing across it catches his eye. He had downed drink after drink that night, trying to quiet the thoughts that rattled through his mind. God, he wishes it was him.

“Shooting starts Tuesday… back in London.”

His head hangs down. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Sorry, Bravo. You good to leave tomorrow?”

“I have no other choice,” he grumbles, his eyes focusing on a backlit photo of you laughing and dancing at the reception.

“You don’t. I’ll have Court get your travel and hotel situated. She'll follow up later today. Alright?”

“Alright,” Dieter sighs, his heart breaking at the thought of 7,000 miles separating the two of you and not being here for you. 

Ending the call, he opens his camera and aims it at a candid shot from your wedding. You and him are laughing, your heads thrown back, your arm grabbing his. Warren stands with his arm around you, wearing that same sly smile he always has. Dieter zooms his camera in, cropping Warren out of the picture. Now, it’s just you and him. To a blind eye, it looks like it could be a happy bride and groom on their wedding day. He snaps a pic, feeling somewhat like a criminal, rewriting the narrative of your wedding night in his head as he quietly walks back into the guest room. 

You’re still asleep, splayed across the bed, mouth slightly agape. Your green pajamas have your old initials embroidered on them in golden thread that reminds him of the ivy on your wedding dress.

He gently lays back down. His jeans annoy him, but he didn’t trust himself to sleep in anything besides them. Like a self-imposed denim chastity belt. 

He replays last night–the secret moments, half-spoken confessions, feelings, and declarations swallowed down before they could escape. One day you’ll know. One day he won’t feel like he’s crossing a line. He just wants to do good by you. 

Two days now, he’s woken up next to you, feeling like he’s been in a dream. But everyone eventually wakes up. Reality always returns. 

Today’s the day you open the proverbial door to hell, letting everyone know. Today, he has something to tell you: tomorrow, he leaves for London.

He watches you peacefully sleep, chest steadily rising and falling. You’re the first thing he’s seen when he’s opened his eyes for two mornings now, yet it feels like something he’s done for a lifetime. You’re not his, and yet it feels so right.

You sigh in your sleep. He wonders if you dream of him. Or is it Warren? God, he hopes it’s him. 

He shouldn't feel this way. Your life will soon turn too chaotic, too unknown. 

And yet he can’t ignore the way you looked at him last night, eyes heavy with words left unsaid. He wonders if you truly know how he feels. If you feel the same pull he’s always felt.

He pulls the sheet up over your shoulder with adoration. He wishes he could stay in this bed with you forever, shielding you under his heart and the soft blankets. 

Tomorrow he’ll be far away, on a film set–surrounded by people, lights, and cameras–playing the hero of the story. And none of it will matter. Because you won’t be there with him. Because he can’t protect you. Because he won’t wake up next to you, feeling the warmth of your body next to his. Because he won’t be able to get lost in this temporary illusion of him being the one who holds you and loves you. 

He could wake you up and tell you everything. Confess all the feelings he’s felt for all these years, risk it all, take a chance, and gamble with his heart. But he can’t. He’ll continue to toe that line for as long as he can, too terrified of losing you. He’ll take his unspoken words with him across the ocean and time zones. Where they can’t hurt you. 

The morning sun shines through the sheer curtains, backlighting you, casting you in a rich golden glow. For now, he’ll stay here, laying beside you. Pretending you're his golden girl for a little longer.

–

Your phone alarm rings, jolting you awake. Your head is pounding. The bed is empty, but you swear you remember placing your head on Dieter’s warm chest in your drunken haze and being lulled to sleep by the tranquil rise and fall of his chest. You try to rub the sleep out of your groggy eyes, letting out a large yawn. God, you drank a lot last night. Speaking of last night–the realization wallops you upside your already aching head–the song confession to Dieter, the way his eyes rounded in sadness, how close he held you against him. The press of his lips against your forehead when he wished you sweet dreams. The feel of his arm wrapped around your body, pulling you deeper against him. 

Another realization hits. You have to let people know today because, once they know, you can begin to move on. God, you don’t even want to think of the prospect of telling everyone. What will you say? Hey, it’s me, Warren left me for someone else, but it’s okay. I was kind of miserable in the marriage as it stood. Anyway, see you around!

You shake the thoughts out of your head. First thing first, find Dieter, then get some sustenance in your stomach and some Advil for your head. 

“Dieter?” you call out as you get out of bed.

No answer. 

You walk down the hall, and the house is quiet. 

“Dee?” you shout as you head down the stairs. 

Nothing.

Did your feelings offend him? Did your drunken confessions spook him? 

The only sign he was here is that the records are cleaned up, no longer strewn across the floor. No note left, nothing. There’s no way he’d do this to you… right? God, what did you tell him last night? You feel like a fool. Not even 48 hours after your husband walked out and you’re trying to confess your love to someone else… let alone his best friend. 

Why does this hurt more than your marriage ending? 

Flopping against the couch, you feel ridiculous at how sad you are over Dieter leaving you like this. You feel the trail of a lone tear as it falls down your cheek. You knew today was going to be awful. You just didn’t think it would be this ba–

The doorknob jingles open, and Dieter walks in with a white bag and a tray of coffee.

You can’t hide the smile that spreads wide across your face when you turn and see him. 

“Dee,” you whisper.

“Hey, Sweets,” he sends you a lopsided smile. “Was hoping I’d be back before you woke up. I got you your favorite.”

"You're the best, Dee," you say, gratefully accepting the coffee.

You can’t even recall the last time you told him what your favorite food was. Something as simple as breakfast is making your heart race in the middle of your living room. “You didn’t have to…”

“Of course I did,” he interrupts, walking over and setting the bag on the coffee table. “You need food, and I need…” He trails off, his eyes staying on you for just a second too long before he looks away. His voice softens. “...I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly. “I am.” 

He sits down next to you, tenseness radiating from his body and the way he moves. He clears his throat, nervously raking his hand through his hair. 

You take a drink of coffee. Of course he ordered it the way you like it. “What’s on your mind?” you ask tenderly, turning to him. 

He looks up at you, and for a quick moment, you think he might tell you everything you want to know… but then he looks away and leans back, rubbing his face with both hands.

“I–uh,” he starts, then stops. His voice cracks. “I have to leave tomorrow.”

A bomb. Dropped in the middle of your living room. 

Your heart sinks. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” He whispers, as if saying it out loud will make it even more real than it already is. “Spencer wants me back for reshoots. London. I leave first thing tomorrow.” 

Your stomach twists, the thought of him being thousands of miles away hitting you harder than you expected. You haven’t even begun to process the end of your marriage, and now the one person who has held you together is about to leave.

“Oh.” It’s the only word you can manage. 

His brown eyes watch you, his brows furrowed as he tries to figure out your reaction.

“Look, I-I wish I could stay here and not g–”

“No, I know. You have to.” Your voice cracks. “I’m sorry, I’ll be okay. You can’t just stay because…” Your words trail off as they reach your mouth, dying in your throat.

Because you have to lie. Because you do need him. Because you know you can’t do this without him.

His jaw clenches. His eyes flash through something akin to anger, sadness, and frustration. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” His voice is so fragile, like he knows just how much this is going to break you. 

“Last night… What I said… Did I–?”

“You didn’t say anything wrong,” he interrupts, his voice soft but firm. “You didn’t.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his hands clenching into fists as if holding himself back from saying more. He stands and paces the room like he’s trying to burn off the nervous energy buzzing within him.

“I told you I’d be here for you, Sweets, and now, I can’t.” He stops and turns to you. “I can’t be what you need right now. Not like this.” 

Your heart breaks a little more at his words. You want to tell him he’s wrong, that he’s exactly what you need. But you don’t. You just nod, because you think he might just be right. 

He moves closer, standing just inches away, his eyes searching yours for something. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but you want to give it to him.

“Dieter,” you say, your voice barely audible as a tear slips down your cheek. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to either,” he says softly. He steels himself with a deep breath. “But I have to.”

“Can we just have breakfast together still?” Your voice sounds so infantile and desperate. Another tear falls.

He kneels in front of you, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Of course,” he says, giving you the smile you’re going to miss. 

—

He reaches into the bag and pulls out a croissant, flakes scattering like confetti around you. This is undoubtedly the saddest party he’s ever been to. He smiles at you, and you return it, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He feels like a fuck up again. He feels sick to his stomach, his appetite waning as he studies you.

“How’s your head?” he asks softly.

You glance down at your cup, swirling the coffee absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze. “No complaints yet,” you reply with a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood. 

Dieter laughs at the joke, but he knows you’re upset. Hell, he is too.

“You should have seen the line at the café,” he says, trying to distract you. “A guy recognized me and let me cut the line, so I got the last croissants of the morning. Sometimes this whole acting thing works out.”

You let out a weak laugh, but it’s barely a whisper against the silence that envelops you both. He wants to reach for your hand, to bridge that gap now clinging between you like a thick fog. “I’m glad I went, though,” he adds. “You deserve a good breakfast after last night.”

“Yeah, last night…” Your voice trails off.

His heart sinks at the way your words are left hanging in the air, raw and unspooled. It hurts to see you so distant. The croissant feels heavy in his hands. He places it on the table with a sigh.

“Look,” he starts, trying to steady his voice. “I-I hate this, Sweets. You nee—I told you I would be there for you, and now, I’m going to fail yo—”

“No, Dee. God, I’m sorry,” you turn to him, your eyes rounded with guilt. It breaks his heart to even look at you, sitting vulnerable next to him, still in your cute little pajamas.

“I didn’t mean to put you in this position.” Your voice trembles. “I just… everything is so overwhelming right now. I’m still trying to process all of it.”

He nods, his chest tightening with every word you speak. “It’s okay,” he reassures. The words feel hollow coming out of his mouth. He knows it’s not. He knows he’s lying. “You’re allowed to feel everything. I just…I want to help you, not make it worse.”

“I know you do,” you say softly. “That’s why it’s so hard.”

“Hard?”

You look away, fiddling with the edge of your pajama top. “Dee, it’s hard… because… I’m scared of what this means for us. For me.” You breathe in deeply. “Warren left me–no notice, no explanation. And now… here I am, sitting with you, and last night I–I–the song, you know. It feels like I’m just rushing into something I don’t understand, and now you’re leaving… for… so long, and I feel…you–you’re so important to me, and you’re–you–”

He interrupts gently, “You don’t have to say anything more if you’re not ready.” He can’t hear this now. He can’t. He stayed up holding you last night, thinking of that song and the lyrics. Eyes like sinking shipsOn waters so invitingI almost jump in

You nod, returning to your croissant. The bite you take of the flaky pastry echoes in the shared silence that hangs heavily in your living room. He wants to pull you close and hold you, but the fear and the quickly approaching deadline of his inevitable trip keep him at bay.

“What are you going to tell everyone?” he asks quietly. His shoulders hurt from the stress of holding everything back; he tries to loosen them. He feels like he’s letting you down with every word he speaks.

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I’ll just… tell everyone the truth.”

You’re so brave. He swallows hard. Warren’s ruined your life, and now he feels as if he’s done something wrong too.

“Well, you’ve already told me, so there’s one person down,” he offers with a slight smile.

You laugh, and his heart soars, reminding him of the plane he’ll soon be on, traveling far away from you. Why can’t his brain just allow him one victory?

“I guess I’ll start with the important people and work my way down the list,” you shrug.

“Sounds like a plan, Sweets.”

“God, I am not looking forward to it,” you sigh, dusting off the crumbs that had fallen from your now-finished croissant.

He watches you with a mixture of admiration and concern. Your shoulders slump, pressed down from the weight of your own thoughts. His heart aches for you and all of the vulnerability you’ve shown him.

“Come here,” he finally whispers, leaning back on the couch. You hesitate for only a moment before sliding closer. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you in. His heart skips a beat when you lean against him, resting your head against his chest. This is all he’s ever wanted.

“Cartoons?” you ask, your voice already relaxed.

“Cartoons,” he nods, grabbing the remote. Now, this is all he’s ever wanted.

—-

The clock ticks above the television screen. Dieter has to leave your house by 3 to pack and get ready to go. You almost ask if you can accompany him, but you stay silent. You have too much to take care of today. Your family doesn’t even know yet. The sooner everyone knows, the sooner you can begin to heal.

It’s 2:45 now. Fifteen minutes left. You cuddle closer to him, relishing the feel of his soft shirt. He chuckles at Homer Simpson ordering a crab juice, and a small smile edges your lips. For a moment, you feel happy. You hum a peaceful sigh, feeling his strong arm wrap around you even tighter. His lips ghost the top of your hair as he takes in your scent with a deep breath.

The clock insidiously continues to tick. You wish it could just stop. That time could suspend itself here in your living room. But it won’t, and it doesn’t.

The Simpsons episode ends. Dieter reluctantly extracts his arm from around you. “I—need to get go—”

“I know,” you say.

He stands, the space between you widening, a chasm filled with unsaid words and feelings not realized. You watch him move, already mourning the warmth of his company as he slowly begins to grab his belongings. The sun filters through the windows, lighting your house in a bright glow, but all you feel is the darkness of your and Dieter’s impending separation.

You reluctantly rise from the couch, feeling foolish in your pajamas as he puts his sunglasses on and grabs his keys.

“Well,” he softly says, reaching for the door. “I should get… going.”

“Yeah,” you reply, trying not to sound as sad as you feel.

“You know, I’ll be back before you know it,” he offers, though the words feel like a fragile promise.

“I know,” you say, stepping towards him, bridging the distance between the two of you.

“And I’m always just a call or text away,” he says, his hand cupping your chin. “Take care of yourself, Sweets.”

“I will,” you whisper. “You too, Dee.”

You lean forward to kiss him. Just as your lips are about to meet his, he slightly turns his head, your kiss landing softly at the corner of his mouth. A bit of hesitation lingers between you, and a flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks as you pull back. He offers you a shy, sweet smile before he turns away and walks out the door. 

Why did you lean in? You feel like a fool.

He walks down your front path and unlocks his car, and with one last solemn nod toward you, he gets in. You can’t watch him drive away. You shut the door. 

Now it’s only you in your cold house, alone. You head to your kitchen and grab a bottle of wine and a wine glass.

It’s a pajamas and wine day today.

You pour yourself a glass and settle on the couch. It’s time to move on. It’s time to take care of yourself. You’ve got this. 

You spend a long time on the phone with your parents, reassuring them that you are okay and will be fine. Exhausted, you switch to Turner Classic Movies and find a marathon of war films. Oh good, nothing with love, please. You begin to write the list of everyone who needs to know as William Holden tries to escape a POW prison camp.

Dieter’s text tone dings from your phone. Two texts. Your heart pounds against your chest when you read them.

Hey, sorry about earlier. I just knew if I kissed you…. I wouldn’t stop

[ninibeingdelulu]

Hidden ✧

Plot: You’re the president’s daughter he came to rescue, and you both need to hide in a small hole.

A/N: the president’s daughter reader is back y’all yeahhh

As your frantic footfalls echoed through the derelict cabin's dimly lit halls, Leon's calloused grip clamped vice-like around your wrist.

Forcibly dragging your stumbling frame towards a promising crevice of safety tucked along the far interior wall.

In one fluid series of motions, he shoved you into the musty shadows of that nook before barricading the open space with an ancient wardrobe wedged against the crumbling sheetrock.

Effectively sealing you both inside that makeshift sanctuary from whatever evil forces still lurked beyond those creaking timbers...

"Stay low and keep those pretty lips zipped if you know what's good for you," Leon's gravelly baritone hissed out mere inches from your face through the suffocating blackness enveloping your curled forms.

Just the thought of whatever merciless terrors he was willing to unleash in order to uphold this mission's integrity sent a tremulous shiver rattling through your shoulders to silently obey.

Until that spoiled, entitled nature of yours simply couldn't resist one final petulant sigh of displeasure over the cramped captivity.

"There's barely any room at all to-"

Before you could finish that complaint, a single broad palm slammed over the part of your lips while his forearm pinned you firmly against the damp wall.

Body caging yours in as the former RPD officer issued a scathing reprimand on a rough whisper skimming along your jaw.

"Shut up if you want to live, princess ..."

Within the next breath, you were being hauled up against his rock-solid frame until your backside suddenly landed against the cradle of those corded thighs wrapped around your waist.

Heat instantly prickling under your cheeks at such scandalous proximity to those taut muscles bulging beneath his battle-worn fatigues.

"What are you doing ?" you indignantly mumbled against the leather-scented palm still locked over your gasping mouth as Leon shifted and adjusted your positioning atop his bunching arousal trapped beneath those cargos.

"Just giving you what you wanted, princess..." he rumbled out on a hissed breath fanning your hairline. "More space to wiggle that restless body around in without blowing our cover entirely."

In a true testament to Leon's pragmatic stoicism, he simply pulled your squirming form flush against his torso once more.

Then wrapped one solid appendage around your ribs to silently signal he'd tolerate no further fussing over the matter.

Crossing your arms with an indignant huff, you were left silently stewing about the fact that at least in this shadowed intimacy...he wouldn't be able to witness the furious bloom of crimson staining your cheeks at such close proximity.

But of course, your pins-and-needles started kicking in from supporting all your weight on those throbbing legs less than a minute later - leaving you fidgeting ceaselessly to find a more comfortable position once again.

A deep, guttural hiss of air sliced past your cheek as Leon's rock-hard abdominals spasmed beneath your restlessly shifting weight - only realizing belatedly that your churning rear end kept grinding against the rapidly swelling ridge suddenly tenting the front of his heavy-duty garments.

Instantly freezing in shock when you craned your neck up to search those inscrutable features hovering just overhead...

Without warning, a powerful hand was cupping the nape of your skull while calloused fingertips threaded sharply through your tangled locks to jerk your focus frontwards again.

"Don't move. A muscle" came his sandpaper growl against your temple - syllables nearly lost amidst the roaring drumbeat pulsing beneath your own frantic pulse points as your thighs instinctively clenched around his.

Too shaken to disobey, you simply swallowed back your shuddery gasps and meekly nodded.

Practically tasting those electrifying waves of primal aggression rolling off his hulking frame while he waged whatever internal war against himself.

Close enough in the darkness for the heat gusting from his flaring nostrils to fan across your cheeks in tandem with each strained exhale.

And then...there was nothing but bristling tension coiling tighter and tighter between your suspended forms until even Leon's very bones seemed to thrum with it - scarcely allowing either of you to cycle air into your lungs.

At least until the droning swarm beyond your flimsy barricade quieted for more than a few minutes' respite, signaling your opportunity to extract yourselves from this debauched tangle of limbs.

"Break’s over, ...use your feet and shove that dresser out of the way."

Leon finally ground out once that punishing grip eased from the back of your skull.

"We need to get moving before I give those freaks an even bigger reason to hunt us down."

Bobbing a rapid nod, you braced your calves against the barrier until it gave way enough to slither back outside into the fading twilight hues.

Every breath hitching raggedly into your constricted lungs as the dark, woodsy scents finally chased away the aroma of leather and gunpowder consuming your senses.

From there, Leon slipped back into that hardened survivalist on autopilot - all traces of those searing undercurrents wiped clean from his expression save the barely perceptible flush tingeing those razor-etched cheekbones.

So you had no choice but to fall back in step behind his long, purposeful strides guiding you deeper into the night's embrace without so much as sparing you a sidelong glance this time.

"Come on, princess...we lost enough time back there." His signature endearment for you practically snarled out with customary disdain.

"The rendezvous coordinates aren't getting any closer dawdling around like this."

Rolling your eyes, you simply complied in silence with those unspoken orders.

[philistiniphagottini]

hello!! 82, 77, 29 with fem!reader and ratio? He's so ahghfdhhddhhfa

Hello Anon! I completely understand. Dr. Ratio empties my head of every single thought too. Thanks for the request, I had a lot of fun writing this. Hope you enjoy~

Smut Prompts

82 + 77 + 29

cw. smut, penetrative sex, prone bone, hard and rough, collar and leash, squirting, creampie, female reader, MDNI

"Hmm, Veritas."

You moaned his name with a heady slur, dripping from your tongue like cloying honey and warming your parched throat. You writhed under the incessant press of his body against yours, his muscular chest warm against the searing heat of your back as he pressed you flat into the mattress beneath you. Your fingers tangled in the sweat soaked sheets beneath you, your voice echoing around your stuffy bedroom as your ears were filled with the wet sound of skin slapping against skin. Every hair on the nape of your neck stood up in anticipation, your bare skin prickling with sweat and blood simmering in your veins as a hot knot coiled low in the pit of your stomach.

You almost choked on a hiccup of pleasure as the collar around your neck tightened, black leather pinching your soft skin as your head shot back when Dr Ratio tugged on the leash. Wisps of your hair curled around his thick fingers; his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he drove his cock into you from behind. Your pussy drooled around him as his thick girth split open the wet seam of your cunt, your arousal dripping down the sides of his cock and staining his skin with thin beads of translucent threads. A whine bubbled up your throat as your eyes threatened to cross and roll into the back of your head, kiss swollen lips parted as a pleasant shiver raced along the curve of your spine. He panted hotly against your ear, pearly white teeth tugging on the lobe as his tongue darted out to taste the perspiration clinging to your skin. 

You were smothered further under the press of his body as a large hand curled around your hip, fingers digging into the plump skin of your stomach until the alluring pudge spilled between the splayed digits. He rocked his hips harder into your backside, the soft flesh of your ass jiggling as his pelvis hit the skin with a resounding smack that made your toes curl hard into the soles of your feet. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of your lashes as they fluttered wildly over your burning cheeks, your pulse beating so frantically in your ears that you almost didn’t quite catch what Dr. Ratio was saying to you. Your mind felt dizzy, head stuffed full of cotton and the only thing you could focus on was the way his cock dragged through your soused walls and the way the fat, weeping head kissed the soft, gummy patch inside of you that made stars waver in your vision. You stirred when you felt his voice vibrating in his chest, rattling the notches of your spine as he threatened to crush you under the weight of his body to contain the violent tremors wracking your entire being. 

"Stop squirming" he said, the underlying sense of annoyance dulled by the bliss that seeped into the tone of his voice. 

A soft whine stirred in your throat but you found it so hard to obey his words when the burning coil in your stomach twister tighter, thrashing around like a caged animal trying to get out. Your nerves shocked you like a live wire as your hips rocked forward, humping the soft sheets beneath you as you desperately tried to work a spark of friction on your aching clit. Your pussy fluttered around him as a soft hiss whistled through his teeth, your plush walls squeezing him so tight he was almost convinced you were trying to strangle him. He tugged on your leash and the brief moment of breathlessness only heightened your pleasure to an almost tortuous degree. 

"Hmm, Veritas harder" you softly begged. 

Your chest heaved with exertion, lungs pinching in your chest and small drops of drool staining the seam of your lips as your body teetered on the familiar edge of nirvana. You clawed at the sheets beneath you, nails catching in the material as you felt the rough drag of his cock moving intimately beneath the skin of your soft stomach, the tip just barely grazing your cervix and making more slick drip down the sticky insides of your thighs. You shivered as his lips brushed against the soft spot just under your ear, his usual sharp tongue feeling like cement in his mouth. He silently complied to your wishes, a loud grunt ringing in your ears and making your pulse waver under the press of his mouth. You keened loudly as he set a fast and hard pace, one that had you writhing between the sheets and stealing the air from your lungs. Your voice stung in your throat as your hips jolted forward, grinding the swollen nub of your clit into the mattress as the bliss boiled and bubbled over.

You were a babbling mess as the coil in your stomach shattered into a million tiny pieces, flooding your veins with relief that turned your vision white for a few, brief seconds. Dr. Ratio groaned into your skin as your pulsing walls clamped down on his cock, your slick juices squirting from your swollen pussy and staining his toned thighs and abdomen. The collar tightened around you one last time as you thrashed beneath the hot press of his body, a blood vessel in your head ready to burst as you felt his thundering heat beat against your back. A husky rasp was muffled against your skin as the cant of his hips came to a sudden halt, cock buried deep inside you as the pressure inside of him snapped. You moaned weakly as ropes of his hot, viscous seed coated your walls, cock kicking with each heavy spurt as you were filled to the brim. Your soft stomach swelled as pearls of his cum overflowed and dripped down your quaking thighs from your still clenching pussy, the heat occupying your hazy mind as you lay still beneath him.

Heavy pants filled the silence, your body burning with a pleasant ache as your heart felt like it was ready to jump out of your throat. Dr. Ratio’s hands were a soothing balm against your scorching flesh, calming the small tremors of your body as your pulse continued to flutter beneath the gentle press of his fingertips. His voice sounded distant when he called to you, your ears still buzzing from your rush and eyes struggling to stay open as the bliss settled deep into your bones. You felt two fingers tapping your cheek and you stirred as he leaned further over your body, his cock finally slipping free from the hole he had been so passionately fucking only a few moments prior. 

"Are you still with me?" he asked as he called your name.

You weakly nodded your head as a soft noise fell from your bruised lips. With a soft sigh breezing past his lips, Dr Ratio coaxed your body to roll over, laying on your side so he could properly check you over.

"Are you alright?" he continued to ask, eyes scanning your body for any signs of discomfort. "How are you feeling?"

It took you a few seconds to rattle the words around your head and shake them loose from your brain until they came tumbling out, dazed eyes staring absently at the ceiling.

"A little dizzy" you admitted.

Your senses were slow to crawl back to you, muscles completely lax as your weary body sank further into the mattress. A thoughtful noise stirred in your lover’s throat as he rubbed his hand along your plump thigh, tracing patterns into your skin as a frown tugged at his lips. 

"I’m fine, Doctor" you reassured, fingers weakly pinching his hip as your head came to rest in his lap. 

He didn’t look too convinced by your words but he was polite enough to bite his tongue for a moment longer. His fingers started to tug your collar loose, unfastening it and freeing you from the snug fit. A noise of content stirred in your chest as you nestled closer to him, seeking his alluring warmth as he gently tangled his hand in your hair. 

"Will you be right to stand?" he questioned after a long moment of silence.

"What if I said no?"

Dr Ratio sighed softly before he squeezed your thigh. "Then I guess I’ll just have to carry you to the bathroom."

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Aug 29th

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1. hello! i’ve been looking for a fic that involves an OC (i think?) that acts as a beard for nie huaisang. it was wangxian centric but that’s the main detail i remember. thank you!

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 859k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) has NHS getting himself engaged to a female OC that he has no romantic interest in (& vice versa - she's a lesbian) because she has useful skills

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2. hi! Do you recall a fic where wwx was like an omega courtesan in a school who was bought by lxc for lwj. Mianmian was also there with him too for a bit. I remember a scene where lwj got mad at wwx for wanting to wash him. They fall in love eventually. If you could find this fic I'd be grateful! 🙏

FOUND! Rattling our cages by danegen (E, 69k, wangxian, A/B/O, but like polite, Slow Burn, Pining while fucking, so much hair combing, WWX has a vagina, POV WWX, no yin iron or wars or plot really, Canon Era, spiders–see the notes, Spanish Translation Available)

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3. Hello! Thank you for all the work that you all do <3

I've been trying to look for a fic for some time now. I think it had wangxian pretty much adopting a little girl. Like the girl is an orphan and just keeps clinging to wx and being super sticky and I think there was a plot in her backstory dealing with resentment. Wwx knew abt it but lwj did not figure it out until later i think. This girl just accompanied them on some nighthunt or smth. The story has the Lan take in orphans due to reasons(tm) and the girl was one of them.

FOUND! the low sky, raining over by chibilwj (thelogicoftaste) (M, 37k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Kid Fic)

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4. Hi. I have a fic to find. In this fic, instead of Yanli dying at Nightless City, Lan Zhan gets critically injured and it sends Wei Wuxian into a spiral. Lan Xichen is very angry at him and will not let him anywhere near his body.

Thank you for your help.

FOUND? If I Could Go Back in Time by Runningbarefoot (M, 122k, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Role Reversal, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, YL WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, The Twin Jade Brotherhood, Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Slow Burn)

FOUND? 🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

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5. hi this is for fic finder!! i’m looking for a fic where wangxian leave the cultivation world for a while with lan sizhui and only come back accidentally. i’m pretty sure everyone else thinks they’re dead and they might have been residing with baoshan sanren in her mountain. thank you!

FOUND? If It's Too Hard To Forgive by Machevalli (M, 94k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Fluff and Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Mpreg)

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6. Hello! I'm looking for a WangXian fic, they were both dragon shapeshifters, but they met each other in their dragon forms. They both assumed that the other was a regular dragon and both made the decision to commit to the relationship and live out their lives as dragons from now on. I think only when JYL visited and WWX turned human for her, LWJ realized that he was a shifter too. It might have been a twitter thread fic. Thank you so much for your help!!

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7. Looking for an arranged marriage au for wangxian. Yiling laozu wwx, he and lz don't know each other and lz is initially worried cause of wwx reputation. Wwx does the marriage, but doesn't immediately trust lz cause he could be a spy/sent to hurt wwx etc. Specifically there was a scene where people came and attacked wwx's household, I think wwx was away. Everyone hid in the cellars only to realize a-yuan was missing. Lz goes after him and saves a-yuan from being harmed but gets badly hurt.

This leads wwx to realize he can trust lz. Wwx may have taken lz's sword away before the attack cause of a misunderstanding and lz fought to protect everyone any way. And I think another scene lz comes out in his night clothes and yells at a group of cultivators who had come to rescue lz cause they thought something happened to him and lz is like why r yall breaking into my house in the middle of the night and the cultivators (lxc might have been with them) were like this is awkward.

but mebbe I just made it up/misremembered or accidentally combined things?

FOUND? 💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

FOUND? Caught Between Sun and Shadows by Alliandra (E, 71k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, grapshic depictions of violence, sunshot campaign, arranged marriage, YLLZ WWX, pining, battle husbands, versatile wangxian, falling in love, resentacles, sex pollen, fuck or die, golden core reveal, politics, hurt/comfort) also sounds like

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8. Fic finder? I'm suspecting it has been deleted but I need to try. It's a fanfic where wwx attempts s*ic*de (suicide) and jc finds him in the bathroom. He calls 911, he's hospitalized and all of that. Please help me 🥲🥲

FOUND! 总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

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9. a modern AU where LWJ and WWX reconnected at a party when Su She was hitting in LWJ, takes place in grad school and WWX doesn’t know they were dating until the end when they visit LWJ’s uncle’s cottage

thank you so much for your help!! @anonionsodelicious

FOUND? without your new eyes by anaphoricae (E, 66k, WangXian, Modern, Didn’t Know They Were Dating, Sexuality Discovery, Self-Discovery, Literal Sleeping Together, (there is so much sleeping in this fic), mentions of WWX/others and LWJ/others, Drunk LWJ, Teacher LWJ, WWX is a… throws dart… computer scientist, No Angst, Jealous WWX, Flirty WWX, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, WWX’s Love Language is Physical Touch, Guess what: even more non-sexual sleeping together, the plot of the fic is just… co-sleeping, call it the Nap Fic ™, Podfic Available, WWX isn’t so much 'oblivious’ as he is wilfully blocking some feelings subconsciously, WWX 'idk how I feel’ to 'I’m gonna marry him’ pipeline)

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10. Hi im looking for a specific fic. The fic was on ao3 and was a modern au where Wei Ying realizes he might be a bit gay and kisses lan zhan but then freaks out, and they get a bit awkward. He then goes on to forums to see what others might think of his situation, he tries watching gay porn etc. and finds that he's dreaming of lan zhan. He ends up being jumped by homophobes goes on a drinking binge for the next few days as a result and hears that lan zhan has been staying in his room and hasn't been doing well, wei ying thinks it's because he kissed him but later finds out he sent lan zhan a homophobic message when drunk. Any help would be appreciated!!! @livesformitski

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11. Hello! I was hoping you can help me track this fic down!

In the fic Lan Zhan finds out about Wei Yings golden core and he schemes to get it back with Wen Qing no matter what. I think it was a dark lan Zhan fic?

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12. For FF, I am once again asking for wlw wangxian fics. There’s a specific one I can’t seem to find, wherein Lwj and wwx are roommates, and wwx is planning on moving out to mm’s bc she constantly hears lwj hooking up in her room, but there’s an issue at the new place or something so she keeps putting off moving out until eventually she’s convinced to stay when they get together

I’ve tried digging through tags but it’s giving me issues, I would appreciate you forever if you find it🙏🙏🙏

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13. Hi I'm looking for this wangxian fic but can't find it anywhere, I don't remember a lot but all I remember is lan wangji getting his lashes punishment and wei wuxian (who is alive) turning up getting angry and destroying all the clans. Yanli (also alive) - and I think zixuan- was like ' well what do you all expect, you've all brought this on yourselves'

Sorry I can't remember much else,

Thank you ☺️ @haseenaay99

FOUND? An arrow to the heart by IsilmeLasgalen (T, 47k, WangXian, SongXiao, XuanLi, ZhuiYi, LQY/NMJ, XiSang, A-qing/OYZZ, BSSR/LY, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, WWX Lives, BAMF JYL, Protective WWX, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Married WangXian Have Children, JGS "falls" down the stairs, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, Protective WN, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Multiple, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Cultivation Sect Politics)

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14. I'm looking for a Modern AU crack-fic-ish from Jiang Cheng's POV (I think?) where Wei Ying seems obliviously in a relationship, and later married, to Lan Zhan. It's also implied that maybe they're just trolling Jiang Cheng. @hiperfyxation

FOUND? Six in one hand by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 2k, WangXian, Modern: No Powers, Crack Treated Seriously, Compulsory Heterosexuality, POV JC)

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15. Hi i need help looking for a fic. I don’t remember much but it was a sort of time travel fic where wei wuxian goes back in time. I think there was a scene during the sun shot campaign where wangxian confess? I remember lan wangji being jealous of his future/ alternate self who is wwx’s husband

I’m so sorry I don’t remember more but please help me find this fic 🥹

FOUND! 🔒 if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect) i think its - chapter 26

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16. Hi, this is for a fic finder. I’m looking for a fic where WWX is a Wen. When Lans were attacked, LWJ, LSJ and LJY were taken to Qishan but were taken under WWX’s wings and they were taken care of. It was lan sect bashing and LQR bashing. LWJ did not return to Lans. I just remember that towards the end of the fic, there was a scene where WWX asked his spies from each sect to come out and MXY came out from Jiang, XY came out from Nie and MY was from Jin. I thought I’ve bookmarked it but could find it. I also have checked Wen WWX compilations and War Prize LWZ compilations. Did not find in either list. I’d appreciate if anyone know the name! Thank you!

FOUND? To the Heavens and the Earth by IsilmeLasgalen (E, 77k, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, POV LWJ, Good Parent LWJ, Marriage of Convenience, Accidental Marriage, Implied Mpreg, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, CSSR and WCZ Live BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, POV NHS, Protective LJY, Good Person WRH, Protective LXC, Immortal LWJ and WWX, POV LXC, Mpreg, WangXian in Love, Soft WangXian, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, POV JZX, Emperor WWX, Emperor LWJ, Past WWX/Other(s), Everybody Lives, Fluff, Angst, Smut, LWJ is LJY's Parent)

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17. Hi! I'm trying to find a fic where lej continuously aaja to play cleansing fir wwc but he keeps reusing cuz resentful energy is the only thing holding his body together but the eventually agrees and then almost dies but wen qung is there and then the course reveal happens and it angsty and wwc thinks lans wouldn't have cared if he told them cheating him if resentment could possibly kill him, thanku!

FOUND? 🧡 decay by antebunny (G, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort)

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18. Hello, this is a fic finder ask:

I’m not sure of the entire plot the the fic but I remember Meng Yao getting caught and being slapped by SiSi in front of the other sect leaders because of what he tried to do knowing his mom’s upbringing. He tries to play it off but he gets imprisoned in a Lanling Tower and isn’t allowed to use anything with strings because of what he did to Nie Mingjue.

FOUND? 💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post) I think #18 is - chapter 30. But its only has the slapping part

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19. hi, I have a finder fic ask, well two actually:

A. jin guangshan tries to assault yanli but he is stopped but there’s a plot twist because yanli knew it would happen because jin guangshan has a special garden when he does that to people and she is maybe a time traveler so she sets him up to be caught

B. WWX has died and there’s a celebration happening and there’s this special guest that will be there, possibly called The Painter, and when they get there the guest actually sings the story of how the different sects are hypocrites and the guest curses all of them except Lan Wangji and when the guest goes to leave, they lift up their veil and reveal themselves to be baoshan sanren.

~*~

20. Hi!!! I hope you're doing well. Please help me find this fic. It's a modern setting one, where I think WWX is sending LWJ suggestive pictures and videos of himself, and LWJ just doesn't know who it is. I think WWX is some kind of IT or something. I came across this fic on Twitter/X in a promotional of the AO3 fic, but I can't find it anymore. I forgot the parts of the fic but I know there's pictures and chat logs inserted in the fic. Please help me and thank you so much!!!

FOUND? might be this thread (unrolled because I don't have twitter)

also on ao3 its called + xx xxx xxx xxxx by 3neetee (E, 12k, WangXian, Modern, Shameless Smut, PWP, Dom/sub, Stalker WWX, Manipulative LWJ, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Rimming, Spanking, Spit Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, Identity Porn, Explicit/NSFW Pictures, Twitter threadfic, Semi-Public Sex, freak4freak wangxian)

~*~

[utterlyotterlyx]

A Fate Inked In Starlight

Part Three

Eris x Fem!Reader x Azriel

Summary - After crashing into the Autumn Court with no idea who you are, where you are, or how you got there, Eris takes it upon himself to hide you and care for you with the help of the Night Court. That is until souls from other walks of life infiltrate Prythian searching for you.

Part One Part Two Part Four Part Five

Warnings - nightmares, alludes to slight depression and struggling, mentions of blood and torture, memory loss, angst, baby Eris trying to do the right thing 🥺

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

That horrid metallic liquid was sprayed across the walls where you swung by your wrists, your head tossed back and blood leaking from your nose, droplets rolling backward down your cheeks and dripping on the floor.

The room was freezing, stone blocks caged you in at every direction, the only light in the room slicing through the iron bars at the roof of the chamber. A thin grey gown hung from your shoulders, nothing opulent, it was plain and dirty, soaked with tears and blood amongst other things, it was ripped up the side, the threads floating against your skin.

A scratching filled the void, the tip of a sword dragging against the stone floor, "Are you going to cooperate today?" A voice drawled and you winced as you tried to open your swollen eyes, your vision blurred and entire face aching.

Your wrists were burning, the ringed wounds tearing themselves open and whimpers straining in your mouth. Chains rattled and you felt yourself lower closer to the ground, the tips of your toes brushed against the stone but you weren't lowered enough to stand, to give your shoulders and wrists some relief.

Fingers curled around your chin, jolting it forward so that you were looking at the owner of the voice. "I asked you a question, pet," from what you could make out, his smile was chilling, eyes narrowed and cold, short black hair, and you wished your vision would clear for just a moment, just so you could really see him.

"I don't know what you want," you rasped, "I don't know what I'm doing here."

His tongue ticked against the roof of his mouth, you felt him circling you, like a predator toying with their prey, "Don't play with me, pet, you know that I don't like your games," you felt the skin of your abdomen slicing apart, pooling with liquid that ran down your thighs.

"You have the wrong person. Please, I don't know what you want," tears ran down your cheeks, searing pain drove through you and you sobbed.

The room began to rumble, with your terror or his anguish you weren't sure, "Do I have to take another thing you love to ensure your loyalty?"

Creaking metal doors blew open, and your stomach dropped at the aroma that washed away the scent of death from the room. Burnt orange peels and pine, warm rain, and a hint of caramel. Eris.

"Flora," he called to you weakly, he sounded so defeated, his voice sounded gargled and wet, and he was dropped to the floor with a thud that made you cringe.

"Give me what I want, pet."

"Flora."

Your bottom lip wobbled furiously, the room felt like it was tipping on an opposing axis, "No. Not him. Not him. Please."

"Submit yourself to me and I will spare him," he moved behind Eris, ripping his head backward and pressing the blade to his throat.

"Flora!"

"FLORA!"

You awoke screaming and thrashing, tears flowing down your face and chest rising and falling at a dangerously rapid pace, "Hey, hey," a voice shushed, hands bundled in your hair with burnt orange dancing around you, "You're alright, okay? You're in Fir Manor, you're okay," he mumbled over and over again until your breathing had slowed to an acceptable rate.

"You, you were -I," you were struggling to form words, to speak, to convey what you had seen.

The place had felt so familiar but not at the same time, like you should remember being there, like it was important to remember that place. The stench of iron and that searing pain made your stomach churn and you bolted from the bed, rushing to the toilet and emptying whatever contents in there that you could.

A cold hand pressed against your back, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades, "Come on," Eris picked you up from the floor like it was nothing, scooping you into his arms and sitting with you on the small two seater sofa before the fire. The blanket he had used to cover himself for his slumber was tossed aside, thrown over the edge of the furniture, and the rug was slightly askew from where he had hit the floor and come running to you.

Eris had made a habit out of sleeping on the cruelly small thing the moment your nightmares had started two weeks ago. Nightly, you'd wake up mumbling, incoherently trying to throw together anything that would make sense whilst panting and sweaty, pale with fright. And nightly, Eris would soothe away your troubles, he would hold you until you fell back asleep before tucking you back in your bed again.

It felt different though, that this time the nightmare had really shaken you to the point of physical shuddering. It was the first time you had alluded to him that he was present in your dream, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"You were- he was going to- I couldn't," you bubbled, shaking in his arms like a leaf in the wind.

"Hey," he cooed to you, covering you in his blanket and rubbing warmth into your arms, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

Eris was the calm. Eris was the safe place. Eris was breathing. Eris was alive. It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

Eris stood at the window, looking out into the gardens at you as you weaved between flowerbeds with Duke in tow. A pale yellow sundress wrapped around your figure, and he smiled fondly as your fingers dragged through the blooming flowers, each one of them bending toward your touch.

Nature just seemed to adore you.

It was the morning after Rhys and Azriel's visit that he found you in the gardens, feet dipped into the fountain with swirling spandrils of water flowing up your arms and neck. It was then that you both found out that you could control water, and by extension, anything made up of it.

Eris was encouraging, he had sat with you in the ponds and fountains and coached you, trained you to control your gift like he had trained to control his. And soon enough, you could summon the element from wherever you stood, your personal tendrils extinguishing his fiery rage with gentle licks across his hands.

He had noticed how the nightmares had been altering you. You had become more withdrawn, the personality that had been bubbling beneath the surface for the last two weeks now retreating. He had to do something.

The stress of your situation hadn't helped, you knew how dangerous it was to be in the Autumn Court, Eris had told you that much. He promised to protect you, and you believed him. But he didn't know how to stop the nightmares, he didn't know how to plump out the circles under your eyes. You had tried sleeping tonics but they didn't want to work on you, neither of you knew why.

"I don't want to go," you told him after he'd sat you down and proposed you visit Rhys and Azriel, both of which you had become closer with, through letters and their idle flybys to check up on you, constantly telling you of their progress, "I feel safe here. I feel safe with you."

Eris had told Rhys of the nightmares, told him that they could be memories trying to claw to the surface, told him that you needed a distraction, that you needed help. The heir wasn't sure what the High Lord saw in you, but he always offered clear advice and a bedroom at the River House with your name on it whenever you should need it.

"I know," he watched as you fiddled with your fingers and kept your eyes on the floor, "This will be good for you. You'll love Velaris, Little Flower," he ran a hand down your hair and gave you an encouraging smile.

"The decision has been made?"

"You'll be back with me before you know it, then we can carry on with your training and read our books by the fire. It's just temporary," your eyes were flooded with sadness, it was taking everything in him to not take back what he had decided and wrap you into his embrace instead, "I promise."

That's how you found yourself curled up in the library within the River House.

Rhys' family were lovely, and Azriel had tried to make you feel as at home as possible, but something just didn't feel right. The safety that you had felt wrapped around you like a shield had disappeared, replaced by a shrill chill that made you too alert. Too poised.

Velaris was beautiful. The book was lax in your hands and you found yourself reading the patterns of the stars instead, like you could simply reach up and pluck one from the sky-

"Flora?" A gentle knock sounded at the door, you turned to it, finding Feyre stood in the gap possessing an ethereal glow and trusting eyes. She entered, seemingly floating to where you sat, and took the place beside you.

Snow capped mountains and starry skies welcomed your gaze as you turned back to the window. A tidal wave of gentle light glowed beneath you, flowing like a river through a valley, that humming energy bowing its head and delving into every beautiful corner of the city.

"How are you feeling?"

"How am I supposed to feel?"

Feyre frowned, "However you'd like. There's no pressure to feel a certain way."

They had all welcomed you with open arms, Mor had even hugged you, and to everyone's surprise, Nesta had offered a shoulder to talk to if you ever felt like it.

"I struggled with nightmares too, after what happened Under the Mountain," she confessed and you found yourself looking into her quizzically, "I died to save Prythian, to save Tamlin, from Amarantha. I dealt with the repercussions of resurrection nightly afterward, I dreamt of being back there, and then one day I was here and I began to heal."

"How did you do it?"

"You find ways to ground yourself," she shrugged, curling her legs up beneath her, "Whether that be a smell, or person, or memory, you find ways to ground yourself in the present, to remind you that whatever fills your past is exactly what it is. The past."

"Do you think that these dreams are memories?"

Feyre hummed, "Maybe," the High Lady had made many a painting of the marks you had sketched and sent to Azriel, something about them intrigued her to the point of inspiration, her power thrummed when she saw them, and she took to the canvas to accurately depict how she saw them in her mind.

Amren had told you that your markings were runes, ancient things painted on walls on crystals in order to try to contain and control power. It was other-worldly, and she was able to tell you with confidence that the runes were by no means inflicted upon you maliciously, more like your body forced them to appear in order to protect itself.

Your mind floated to Eris. You wondered how he was, you wondered if he was sat alone drowning in the silence of Fir Manor whilst you were surrounded by light and echoing laughter.

"We will help you, Flora. Rhys won't admit it but, you remind him of his sister a little bit. I think that's why he's so determined to have this all figured out, so he can help you in ways he couldn't help her," Feyre had been in awe of your beauty despite the deep circles under your eyes, you reminded her of herself, like she was staring at a mirror into the past, "Even if we do figure this out and you have the option of returning home, I want you to know that you're welcome here, if you ever wanted to stay. Though, I feel someone would outbid me on that." Feyre had spied the swirl of shadows in the corner of the room when she had entered, they had been watching you and then your exchange unbeknownst to you, she smirked at them, knowing that they'd be whispering to their master that they had been caught.

"I do love it in Autumn," you had assumed she was talking about Eris, who else could she have been speaking of? "I was happy there, I think."

Feyre took your hand in hers and tugged you up, she had loaned you a few of her dresses for the time being, just until she and Mor could take you into town and buy everything your eyes landed on. They knew how it felt to feel out of place and unwelcomed, and they wouldn't wish that upon the fragile creature that had stumbled into their lives.

"You can be happy here too, if you just give us a chance?"

Hope.

For the first time in two weeks, since the nightmares began, you felt hope. Beautiful, all-consuming hope.

You took one last look out of the window as Feyre began to pull you from the room and toward her family, you found the stars that begged for your touch, sparkling brightly as if to say pick me, choose me. Their disappointment clear by their faltering shine as you willingly followed Feyre, followed her down the path of healing, a path toward the life you wanted to build for yourself.

Not for anyone else, but for you.

"I can see you. We're coming."

You bolted upright, your breath caught in your throat. It took you a moment to adjust to your surroundings, to realise that you were in Velaris, in a room across the hall from Azriel, and that Eris wouldn't be coming to bundle you into his embrace and have his steady heartbeat rock you back to sleep.

"We're coming."

Violet pools of shadow hovered before your face, they were wide, like they weren’t expecting that you could see them. The only source of light in the pitch black room where you lay. An arm emitting black curls of smoke reached for you and you flinched backward, hitting your elbow against the headboard and hissing in pain.

"You're not meant to be here."

The voice was clouded but sounded so familiar, the warmth and tinge of worry in their eyes did also, it was odd, how a ripple of whispering shadow felt so intimate.

It disappeared as quickly as it came, floating away like a freshly blown out candle, wisping up through the roof and into space.

Authors Note

Part 3!

I’m sorry if any of you are finding things a bit slow, I just want to do this fic justice.

Part 4 is gonna be wild ✨

Thinking about making this into a 8/9 part series, what do we think?

Taglist

@acourtofbatboydreams @glitterypirateduck2 @isaxbella749 @aactuaaltraash @imma-too-many-fandoms @blackgirlmagicforever

[wardensantoineandevka]

Candela Obscura: Needle & Thread is about, if it is about anything, parent-child relationships and the desperate desire for a closeness in the face of a yawning chasm of separation, physical, emotional, or both.

Sean and Margaret, the creature and mother, Nathaniel and his father, Jean and hers, Allison and Lucas. Even Beatrix and the child she never had, transferred onto Sean. (Marion is the only major character who does not fit neatly and completely into this pattern, despite the brief look at his relationship with his father.)

That desire for closeness—even when there is immense strain in the relationship, even when that desire has been suppressed into more of an involuntary instinct—escalates over the chapter until incredible violence is being committed in an effort to reduce these distances.

These parent-child relationships are even weaponized repeatedly in the finale. Sean takes the deal to save his mother. The person in the cage observes that Nathaniel's father never liked him as a device to rattle him and his father's face is worn to force him to hesitate. Violet lashes out at Jean before she dies by telling her that her father was happy when she told him that Jean was no longer going to visit.

There is so much longing for a parent or a child in this chapter. Sean wants to be with his mother again, and Margaret wants her sons. Nathaniel craves his father's love, and in the end, his father reaches for him. Jean grieves for her father. The creature wants to be with their mother, and their mother is distraught when her child is killed. Beatrix is wistful for the child she did not have. Much of Lucas's screentime is devoted to missing his mother, and Allison misses her son terribly.

There is also much to be said about sibling relationships here: Sean and his brothers, Nathaniel and his, the creature and their sister. Sibling dynamics inform the relationship between Sean and Marion, and Sean and Nathaniel. That's not the focus of this post, though.

I believe that it is specifically this web of parents-children and the various distances in their relationships that really is the core of the chapter. This is about a desperately intense, even violent, desire for a closeness in those relationships and the willingness to do basically anything to overcome the distances.

[tadpoledancing]

Always Perfect (Codywan + 212th) (MDNI)

CW: BDSM, Bondage, Gags, Free Use

Pairings: Codywan, Obi-Wan x 212th Attack Battalion

The steady hum of the Negotiator’s engines formed a constant backdrop, one Obi-Wan had become accustomed to long ago. But now, bound and kneeling in the mess hall, the familiar sounds only heightened his awareness of his own vulnerability. The cool metal floor pressed into his knees, his body bare save for the leather cuffs on his wrists and the blindfold snug around his eyes. His jaw ached around the ring gag, forcing his mouth open in a degrading reminder of his purpose here.

A leash, tethered to a beam overhead, kept him caged. He couldn't move far—no, wouldn’t move far. Obi-Wan stayed obedient, just as his men had trained him.

He heard the door slide open. Footsteps—heavy boots clanging against the floor—and a presence at his side.

“Good boy. Always so perfect for us.” The voice was warm, familiar—Cody’s. His Commander, his anchor, and his tormentor all in one.

Obi-Wan shivered as Cody’s gloved hand threaded through his hair, fingers curling into the strands to give a gentle tug. His scalp tingled with the light pull, and an embarrassed warmth pooled in his stomach.

“You’re so beautiful like this, General,” Cody murmured, his breath hot against Obi-Wan’s ear. “All tied up and ready for your men. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan moaned around the gag, unable to form words but knowing the sound was all the response Cody needed. His knees shifted slightly, testing the restraints that kept him so perfectly exposed, his body an offering for anyone who wanted to use him.

Cody knelt in front of him, his hand still in Obi-Wan's hair, keeping him grounded, controlled. “They’ll be coming for you soon,” Cody whispered, his tone dark with promise. “They love seeing their General like this. Weak. Submissive.” He tugged harder, drawing a soft gasp from Obi-Wan.

Another set of footsteps echoed through the mess hall, and Obi-Wan’s heart quickened. One of the troopers, maybe more, approaching to claim what had been offered. Cody’s grip in his hair tightened, making Obi-Wan tilt his head up, even though the blindfold kept him from seeing who had come.

“Look at you, waiting so patiently,” Cody said, releasing his hold on Obi-Wan's hair just long enough to run a gloved thumb over his parted lips, just brushing the edge of the ring gag. “You’ll take what they give you, won’t you, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan’s throat tightened, and he nodded, the leash rattling softly as he moved. Cody smiled, the curve of his lips just audible in his voice.

“Good boy.”

[ladyjang09]

Lovely Runner fanfic

Preview: Sun Jae's been trying his best to be as pure as oxygen, to treat Im Sol with utmost respect, but with an unexpected request from her, he might as well unleash the beast inside him.

NOTE: You have been warned. Heavy smut ahead!

CHAPTER 1

The bedroom was softly lit, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. Sol stood by the window, her delicate nightgown brushing against her thighs as she looked out into the night. Her heart raced as she heard Sun Jae’s footsteps approaching.

He entered quietly, pausing when he saw her. She turned to face him, her expression a mix of determination and nervousness. “I wondered if we might…”

Sun Jae waited. His heart pounding fiercely. He could tell she didn’t know how to say what she wanted.

“What is it Sol-ah?”, he said huskily, unable to stop himself from caressing the velvety curve of her cheeks. A fissure of sensation rattled through him, as it always did when he touched her. “Say what it is you want.”

“I wondered if we might try something new…”

Sun Jae froze. But the blood, the blood rushed and pounded inside him like an inferno. The chains of civility had never been pulled so tight. Every animal instinct in him rose like those of a lion ready to break out of a cage. His “pure as oxygen” thoughts and self- control vanished into thin air.

She couldn’t be asking…

But she was. Her eyes locked on his. “From behind.”

Im Sol blushed furiously, wondering whether she’d made a mistake. For one agonizing moment he didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Every muscle in his body seemed pulled as tight as a bowstring. The room echoed with a painful silence.

She couldn’t look at him, humiliated by her own boldness. What had she been thinking? What must he think of her wanton request? This had to be the most embarrassing moment of her life. None compared to the humiliating video greetings, her 19-year-old self, made, when she greets Tae Song on his birthday.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, stepping away from him. “Forget what I just said.”

The low sound he made in his throat sent shivers up her spine. It was the sound he made right before…

He seemed to snap. “Like hell,” he said, catching her wrist and pulling her roughly against his chest.

She gasped, the instant bodily connection making every one of her nerve endings crackles with instant awareness. She stared up into his face, finding his expression fiercer than she’d ever seen it before. The tic below his jaw pulsed hard and fast.

Gone was the sweet smile she thoroughly loved, and the soft gazed that only reserved for her. Unconsciously, she tried to pull away, a little frightened by what she might have unknowingly unleashed.

But he wouldn’t let her go. His searing gaze caught her in its fiery gaze trap. “How could I pretend I didn’t hear anything that you said. Not with a request like that.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her few steps to the bed.

Sol’s heart raced with a nervous thrill. She could feel the tension raging inside him, his desire for her radiating on a level she’d never felt before. He seemed like a man pushed to the edge, hanging only by the last thread of his control. It was wild, dangerous, and exciting-- very exciting.

He set her down on the bed with a surprising gentleness, given the harshness of his movements as he started to strip off his clothes. He hastily unbuttons his shirt, jeans, and then his boxers. Heavens, he was glorious! Every bit as spectacular as his recent magazine cover. A fortress of masculine beauty and strength. Every inch of flesh honed to firm, hard muscle. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his arms thick and defined. His stomach rippled with band upon band of sharply molded steel. How was it that he seemed even bigger and broader without his clothes on?

She didn’t know where she wanted to put her hands first.

But it was the sight of his prominent erection that sent warm tingles of awareness prickling between her legs. The bold evidence of his desire thrilled her. Thick and long, the round head plump and swollen. So brutally- undeniably- masculine. It rose against his stomach, growing under her wanton perusal. The thin skin pulled so tight it seemed to shine like marble.

Now she knew exactly where she wanted her hands.

“Careful, love,” he warned darkly, as she reached for his raging cock, his voice dangerous and seductive at the same time. “Look at me like that and you might get more than you can handle.”

A flush of pleasure surged through for her, realizing her admiration excited him. “Can I touch you?” she blurted, asking what she’d never dared before.

His stomach muscles clenched. Fisting his hands at his side, he nodded. “Yes,” he replied hoarsely.

She rolled on her knees so that she was kneeling before him. Tentatively, she reached out and brushed her fingertips down the hard ridges of his stomach.

Sun Jae hissed, the muscles jumping at the feather- soft touch. She bit her lip to stop the smile, marveling at the ability to invoke such reaction with a simple touch.

Ever so gently Sol ran her fingers along the long length of his manhood. Her lips parted in surprise. The skin was so soft, like velvet. But underneath, the rigid column was as steely as the rest of him.

Im Sol was not as innocent as Sun Jae might think. She and Hyun- joo watched porn way back in college out of curiosity. With newfound confidence, she explored him with her fingers and then, growing bolder, with her hands, circling him, though unable to close around him completely.

He groaned at every touch, seemingly in agony.

She let go, gazing up at him hesitantly. “Am I doing something wrong?”

He shook his head vigorously. She could see the muscles in his neck and shoulders bunch and strain. “God, no, love,” he said tightly. “Keep doing what you’re doing.” He put his hands over hers and showed her how to hold him. He looked into her eyes, letting her see the depth of his desire. “Ah…that’s it, baby, stroke me.”

Holding his gaze, she did. Something passed between them. Something that went beyond the erotic sensuality of the moment, heightening every touch, every movement.

She watched the pleasure roll over his features as she gripped him tight in her hand and pumped. Slow at first, then faster as the passion built on his handsome face.

A strange sense of power surged through her, knowing that she had the ability to do this to him alone. To take him to such amazing heights.

He was hot and throbbing under her palm. She could feel the blood pound and pound, until she felt a powerful pulse. Sun jae tore her hand away with a growl. A pearly drop emerged from the tip. Sol felt the most peculiar urge to bend down and lick it. To taste him fully.

“No more. I need to be inside you.”

His voice was tight and urgent. She’d never seen him like this. Before his passion had been fierce and hot, but always controlled. But now she sensed the control slipping, sensed him warring with something inside him. He was so close to letting go.

Setting aside her modesty, Im Sol slowly lifted her night gown over her head and tossed it to the side. Resisting the urge to cover herself with her arms, she knelt before him naked and ready. “Then take me.”

[immobiliter]

       It wasn't that men like Charlie didn't exist in Jamie's time; quite the contrary, there were plenty of well-read gentlemen content to idle away their years in a library or university, away from the fields and the toil and the fighting. It was not the wrong way to be, not at all. It was only that Jamie struggled to understand men who took their satisfaction between the pages of a book rather than in the act of making and defending his home and family. But he respected the lad, and the love his daughter bore for him, and it was enough to mostly quell the fear in his heart that Bree would choose an easy life, two hundred years from now in a time that was familiar, over the harder life here in North Carolina.

       Yet the fear still lingered, like disease clinging to a rotting corpse.

       “ So you would... choose us over him? ” It was a surprise to hear, and Jamie's brow furrowed as they continued their relaxed walk through the forest. It should have come as a relief and, yet, it didn't. “ It may not need to come to that, lass. Love is a powerful force. One that can transcend time itself. ” His smile turned wry as he glanced sidelong at her. “ He may yet choose this life, as Claire did for me, in order to be with you. ”

       “ No, he doesn’t, ”  Bree conceded, brows lifting briefly.  To say that Charlie was not as comfortable with life in this time period was an understatement, really.  That thought had been preying on her mind ever since Charlie’s arrival, and now, with Jamie wanting to know what her plan would be going forward, it was thrown into sharp relief.  “ I have nothing left for me in my own time. ”  Except Charlie.  And Ruth and Julia.  And perhaps a thriving career.  But all of her family was here, and having spent so much time with them since her arrival, she wasn’t quite ready to give them up. 

        “ I love him, ”  Brianna admitted after a moment, as though that wasn’t already inherently obvious to her father.  She paused, her gaze wandering aimlessly over the forest surrounding them.  Finally, she shifted her attention to him again.  “ And it’s because I love him that I can’t ask him to stay for me. ”

[chesb0red]

Not All Shadows are Dark — Xenk Yendar & Reader

Hello! My name is Warlock and this is one of my first fics in recent years so please be gentle with any judgement. Anyway, please enjoy! This is just a fun little scenario I thought of wherein the reader is a warlock of the Raven Queen. Please let me know if anyone wants a continuation. This was mostly just an experiment to test the waters on Xenk’s personality and writing.

You’ve recently escaped from an illegal cage fighting ring. Taken and kidnapped, you were used to fighting for your life in a scrappy brawl as rich spectators bet on who would win. More often than not, the losers would leave the ring in a body bag.

It’s been mere months since the day you escaped your captors’ clutches. Rattling chains, pained and angered yelling, loud and drunken cheering. You could almost hear the sounds echoing in your ears each time you lay down to rest.

Your hands shake as you feel adrenaline rushing through your veins.

CAW!

You bolt up, arm raised as the familiar vision of mangled faces fade from view.

Leaves rustle above you and your head turns. You glance up as Soren, your raven, flies down from his nearby perch. He shakes out his feathers and turns his eyes towards yours. He’s calm and the shadows around you settle as your breathing evens out.

You’re okay.

You hear whispers in the back of your mind, as familiar and comforting as they are unsettling. Soren continues to stare at you, completely unblinking, and eerily still.

You’re safe.

You feel the mark on your back burn with a sudden cold as you feel phantom hands, taloned, run through your hair in a gentle caress.

They’re safe.

Your body flickers momentarily, turning black and wispy like the shadows around you, before settling once more in a physical form.

As you glance up and around you, you don’t see anyone near you besides Soren. You can, however, feel the presence of another hovering just out of view. The air around you is a lot colder with an unnatural chill. It doesn’t bother you. The cold hasn’t bothered you in months, not when it means she’s around.

You finally relax again.

It was just a memory. You’re not trapped, not again. Your friends’ aren’t suffering. Not anymore, at least.

You try to catch your breath as you send Soren away to keep watch while you compose yourself. You glimpse through your raven’s eyes as he flies off, melding with the dark night around him. It’s dark, but the shadows are a comfort most would shy away from. You thread your hands through the darkness at your side and you feel it respond. Her blessing is what allowed you to do this. It’s an assurance, that you’re never fully alone.

You keep looking through Soren’s eyes while remaining alert to your own surroundings. The presence has faded, but you can tell she’s still lingering. It helps you relax.

However, before you could return to your trance, a second, sudden presence breaches your senses and you hit a tree as you try to jump to your feet.

You look up just in time to see a man walk into view. He’s clad in shining half-plate, a sword strapped to his side. He makes no hostile moves but you brace yourself regardless.

The armored man merely tilts his head at you, acknowledging, or maybe assessing. “Hello there.”

His voice is soothing, calm.

But you can feel his divine magic from here and you don’t relax, your own necrotic magic seizing the shadows around you to keep you safe safe safe.

It’s dark, the shadows will protect you. This assurance allows you to calm yourself as you call for Soren. You feel the familiar protective magic blanket your form, Mage Amor settling over you in an instant. Your armor isn’t visible, but you could feel its cold magic surrounding you.

“Good evening.” You return his greeting, posture as nonchalant as you could fake.

He eyes you curiously, voice still calm as he regards you, “I apologize for startling you but… have you seen any undead around?”

You falter. “Undead? Like, a zombie?”

“No.” His expression grows more serious. “Something more.”

You have to pause for a moment as your brain tries to process that. What the hell does More mean? “I’m not sure I follow.”

“A powerful presence lingers within this forest. You should be careful.” He sniffs the air. “Somethings coming.”

He glances up and pulls out his sword. It gleams under the sparse moonlight and you feel the shadows around him shrink.

He faces you directly, but his eyes look past you. You don’t sense anything off but you turn to look as well. You tug your vision back into Soren’s but all you see is your own figure as your raven rapidly approaches.

Breaking past the tree line, Soren alights on your shoulder, a soft caw escaping his beak as his talons find their grip.

You turn back to the man. He’s frowning in confusion, you see through both your own and Soren’s visions. He sniffs the air again before holding out his free hand in a placating manner. “Okay. Please stay calm but I need you to get away from that bird.”

You blink.

“This bird?” You look at Soren. He’s been your loyal companion since you’ve escaped; a gift from her. He’s been your eyes and ears as much as he’s been a partner and companion. A perfect sentinel. There’s no other being you trust more.

“Yes.” His eyebrows crease just the slightest bit. “I don’t think you understand just what that bird actually is.”

<><><><><><><>

I apologize if it seems cut off but I wanna leave it here for now. I can post a revised one with a continuation if anyone wants one.

[cyanide-latte]

💬

Ilias knows he shouldn't touch the collapsed man, he should stand back and let the adults handle things. He's nine years old and perfectly obedient, and normally he would be focused on helping his oldest brother hold their youngest brother back. But something in him won't let him behave; there is an overwhelming compulsion that has seized him, causing him to break away from his brothers and move cautiously towards the man.

The adults around him are, of course, trying to tell him to stop and step back, with varying degrees of force and worry that all fade into background noise before ceasing entirely with a terrified hush. Ilias doesn't register this, and thus doesn't see the way his shadow splits into three, nor the way his eyes are beginning to glow with a cold, harsh light. His awareness has narrowed to nothing but the man on the floor, a sweating, pale S.T.Y.X. employee he doesn't even know by name.

“Ilias, don't!” his youngest brother calls.

Something inside Ilias is shaking, rattling the bars of a cage it's newly found itself in and wants out of. It's breaking free, and while he doesn't know what he is doing, he senses its inevitability and how much more than him it is. He stops trying to fight it quickly, realizing that though he is on some level frightened, he needs more than anything to find out what is about to happen.

One of his hands drifts over the man’s chest, the other over his sweating forehead. The last things Ilias is aware of are the thinness of his hands, the sudden length of his nails, and that his voice is now tripled as he speaks words both alien and yet known to some deeper, more secret part of him.

“Ilias, you—!!”

The world shatters around him in a kaleidoscope of color, dropping him into a void, and he is whipped by gusts of wind. The wind brings something with it, something pale and shining across what he now recognizes as a liminal space.

It is a thread.

No, that's not correct. It isn't just a thread.

It approaches initially with great rapidity, hesitating for only a moment, before snapping at him like some great snake and twisting itself around him before he can do much more than cry out. And though the thread doesn't cut him, he immediately feels what it carries begin to slice into him.

He glimpses the past and sees a boy who resembles the employee who collapsed. There is a barrage of vicious glares, stray hateful thoughts aimed at other children who mock his intellect and interests and his early desire for a career. Cold disdain weaves throughout, a sense he is better and smarter than his peers, that one day they'll be sorry. Then in adolescence, still marked by that disdain and condescension, there is a loneliness fiercely misdirected at peers and at girls who laugh at his interest in them, and a dark undercurrent of wishing everything would just stop, that sleep would subsume him forever. Ilias barely processes the frightening enormity of this before he sees the same teenager, a little older, devastated. The Jupiter family didn't think his ideas good enough, didn't even look at him when searching for new talent. Bound up in this is an icy, gut-churning sensation at realizing that the internship he was offered has a S.T.Y.X. seal; he is so unremarkable, so unimpressive, so not as special as he hoped that not only did the Jupiter family never acknowledge him, but their cousins, the Shroud family, are taking pity on him. Pity from a bunch of ghouls who live in isolation. He swallows his pride and dignity because a job is a job, but just when he thought his life couldn't get any worse, the Great Seven were practically laughing in his face.

Ilias is yanked to the present, but not back to himself. The man is sick. He is resigned to his job at S.T.Y.X. but to say he still loathes his circumstances is incorrect. He is listened to, he is respected. His work challenges him in ways that he enjoys and his coworkers are surprisingly collaborative. True, the Shrouds still frighten him on some level, but really, they're not so bad. Okay, so he's a little jealous that even their three sons seem to be tiny child geniuses far beyond himself, but it doesn't sting the way it would have when he was younger. And he's freer here, somehow. Despite himself, he likes his new life in the Island of Woe. But he feels like he's dying. He's sure he is. Everything is dark.

Something coaxes Ilias then, and he spins towards it, facing opposite the direction he did when he glimpsed the past. He knows something lies ahead, something final, and with it, the end of the thread of this man’s life.

He reaches for it, grasping with thin hands ending in claw-like nails and feels, both in this space and back where things remain real, the final word leave his mouth, the name of the spell he realizes he's cast.

“HARBINGER.”

The man’s future snaps into view, frames glimpsed here and there on the way to that finality he knows is waiting. Initially the negative following this moment stands out most starkly, and it's several frames before the positives become more prominent and vibrant, but these don't linger and dig beneath the skin the same way. They brush over Ilias with a warmth and tenderness, and don't sear him.

And then it all slows. The man is old now. He watches an adolescent Shroud boy with long, long hair storm away in frustration after an argument with a man wearing the uniform and helmet of the S.T.Y.X. director. It takes his physical expression of exasperation for Ilias to recognize this is his younger brother, grown up.

“Give him some time, sir,” the old man says, patience and kindness in his voice that were never there in the past, and are barely there in his present. “You can't push too hard with teenagers.”

This day moves well but slow, very slow. He finishes out his shift and returns home, greeted with an aged affection by his husband. The two eat, unaware this is their last meal together, and sometime after they retire for the night, peacefully asleep beside each other, the man exhales his last breath in a sigh. And the thread vanishes with a snipping sound.

Everything real rushes back at once, color and sound colliding like the shattered glass is crashing itself back together in an attempt to repair the world. The spell releases Ilias only seconds after he lets go, unaware he was holding it to begin with. Unconsciously, he clutches at his head, which feels both too light and too heavy, and curls up on his side on the floor, trying to push away the memories that aren't his from the ones that are.

They leave quickly, like they're fleeing back to their owner, but the one future-memory, the image of the last day, lingers.

At the very least, the man won't actually die for some time to come.

But in this moment that is a cold comfort, and it cannot conceal the magic that now is awake, living beneath the boy’s skin.

With a whimper, Ilias shuts his eyes.

—————

Taglist: @tixdixl @blithesharem @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @simons-twsted-children

So there we have it, both an Ilias memory and a glimpse of the first time he discovers his Unique Magic. I've talked about it before somewhat to a few mutuals and friends (I can't recall who all I've told,) but Harbinger allows him to see a person's ultimate fate. Unfortunately, Ilias cannot control what other information about the person he receives in the process (and when he's young, he can't stem the flow of that information at all.) It often overwhelms him, and by the time he's a young adult in his early 20s, he's inclined to believe the worst of almost everyone and everything, because that's usually what his UM shows him when he tries to see someone's fate.

Also worth noting here that I did keep the details vague intentionally for the most part regarding this S.T.Y.X. employee's life and experiences. As this is meant to be a memory of Ilias's, the details of the man's life, thoughts, feelings have all faded somewhat with time from Ilias's perspective, as this is written to be his recollection. It would be quite different when experiencing them in real time.

@elenauaurs @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @distant-velleity @rainesol (message me if you want to be added to the taglist for my TWST OC stuff!)

[gffa]

Here's the fascinating thing about this providing context to Gotham War and vice versa: Bruce says it's just him, that he's in control, but we see that he's an unreliable narrator, that Zur-En-Arrh has far more control than he realizes. There's a reason the opening comics for Gotham War took pains to show us Zur rattling at the cages of Bruce's mind and made sure to thread his commentary all through the event--he had way more influence than Bruce realized. To the point that, when Joker calls to Zur to come out and play, Zur can step easily into his body, that's how close to the surface he was. Which is now being paired with just about the only Joker story I've ever been vaguely interested in because ohhhhh yeah this is the perfect time for a story because this is everything the Joker has ever wanted from Batman--get rid of the riff raff that was distracting you, making you care about things outside of our little game! No more people you love to take you away from our little cat and mouse game! Now all that's left are Joker and "Batman", the most pure form of Batman in Joker's eyes, nobody else will have to matter now, now Batman will no longer hold himself back when it comes to really trying to obsess over and kill the Joker! All right, Zdarsky, I still don't like grimdark loner Batman or Joker-centric stories, both usually are some of my least favorite things, but you have my attention, show me just how rough "Mindbomb" is going to get, because you've clearly been tying this back to a dozen different things and I'll even check "The Knight" out of the library since you were bringing back characters from that series, too. (I think that's what gets me about Zdarsky's writing--for all that Gotham War ramped up and ended way too fast--but I strongly suspect that was editorial trying to make it an Event rather than what was supposed to be a story as part of the ongoings--he has tied in a LOT of other comics for context, which makes me feel like this wasn't just a sudden snap, but that Zdarsky is relying on us to be familiar with just how much shit the characters have been through and why they're at a breaking point now. And I want more "this comic will give context to this other comic" in DC, so I'm cautiously going to give this one a chance!)

[sbrown82]

I just saw your post about Marsha and how Mick treated her and thought why don’t The Rolling Stones fandom not know about her except how he got her. They always talk about Marianne and how sorry they felt when she was put on drugs, had a miscarriage, almost committed suicide, and was suffering from deep depression. But never bring up Marsha and how much she suffered. They bring up how “amazing” Anita is and they things she did for The Stones or whatever thousands of times but never talk about how Marsha introduced a new band member, and a new manager for them and even gave Mick’s brother a job. They’ll even bring up the loads of groupies they had and all the things they supposedly did for them, but never bring up Marsha and how amazing she is, they just love to slander her name. They’ll acknowledge Bianca and say she was “THE QUEEN” ? Talking about how she controlled Mick and keep him in line, how “fabulous” she is. It’s irritating. The worst part of it all is that people only talk about how she was just Micks first babymomma and nothing really more than that. 🤦🏾‍♀️ She wasn’t a bitch, so I guess she gets slept on!

Great question! Well, for one thing, Mick and Marsha’s relationship was very clandestine and private, which was quite different from Mick’s other relationships which were more high-profile. You always saw Mick and Marianne together, hand-in-hand at events, or splashed across newspapers from some scandal. And Bianca and Jerry were socialites who loved attention, too. Marsha is the only one who really minds her damn business to the point where she lived in nearly complete isolation in France for a while by herself. She loved Mick, but she never wanted to be famous or to be known as his ‘girlfriend’. She just wanted to make music and do her own thing, much like him!

Also…..she’s BLACK …and we all know how Black women are treated in mostly white fandoms. So i think she's just disregarded. But let’s be honest, people always talk about Anita Pallenberg as this fashion-forward, super metropolitan muse to the Rolling Stones who changed up their style in the late 60s, which in many ways she was. I mean, she was influential. But, she was also in a way, a glorified junkie who rattled cages. She was a damn mess from the start. She fucked Brian, then Keith and rumor has it, Mick, too. Many people have even said that she was a shit starter, and an instigator who brought out the absolute worst in people. Bill Wyman even called her an actual witch. Notice that Brian, Marianne, and Keith's drug addiction got worse (way worse) after they started being around her.  She even once messed with some 17 year old boy who shot himself in the head with Keith's gun in their house. A mess! Marianne is another overrated white girl who started fucking Mick when she knew he was with somebody else. In fact, he was dating R&B singer, P.P. Arnold (former Ikette), so I really don't understand why she was always crying and going on about Marsha Hunt and how she supposedly stole his ass from her. I mean, Mick and Marianne weren't married. Plus, Mick constantly complained to Marsha about Marianne’s drug addiction and how she was ALWAYS high and strung out so much so that their relationship had become pretty much platonic when he started talking to Marsha. The girl was just gone. Bianca is another over-glamorized chickenhead, I can't stand her ass either. She’s very nasty and mean. Another thing is, Marsha’s career never really took off after getting with Mick. The 70s and 80s were tough on her, she didn’t have a lot of opportunities and she was raising a child on her own with practically nothing (sis even resorted to getting food stamps and cleaning people’s houses for money), plus suing Mick ruined her reputation on top of all the lies and bullshit he was saying about her to the press.

Like I mentioned in part 2 of the Mick Jagger & Marsha Hunt thread, when Mick met Marsha, the motherfucka literally showed up at her house unannounced, even after she turned him down the first time. And after they started dating, she listened to ALL his damn problems, sis got him a new guitarist after the Rolling Stones fired Brian Jones from the band, got him a new tour manager and a new secretary to handle ALL the Rolling Stones concerts and affairs, consoled him when Brian died, consoled him after his girlfriend tried to commit suicide, was there for his monkey ass after that shitshow at the Altamont Speedway where 4 people were killed during the Stones’ concert, she even hid him out and kept him safe after the Hell’s Angels security put a hit out on his ass and tried to murder him after he blamed them for what happened. Here's them talking about how they was gone kill his ass and why he had a price on his head:

Marsha even got his younger brother a job after he came back from India and was completely broke and damn near homeless. After he got married, Mick would even call Marsha up and complain to her about how Bianca was getting on his damn nerves. In her book, Marsha said she would’ve died for him if he asked her to…and he fucking played her. Even after all that, she never once bad-mouthed him, or called him names, none of that. She just wanted him to take responsibility. He completely deserted her and their child. It was horrible and he sounded like a complete lunatic talking about Karis wasn't his. Marsha has always been kind to his wife Bianca and Jerry and all of his children who love her too. But I find it really ironic how she always said never wanted to be known as Mick Jagger’s girlfriend and that’s exactly what happened. Ya'll need to show that woman some motherfucking respect because none of them hoes deserves it more than her. Give Marsha her damn flowers. She's a QUEEN!!!

[thequibblah]

for the writing meme

POV - Something that's already happened, retold from another character's perspective

-Mel/@thelighthousestale

thank you for this, oooh!!

ASK ME

There were many horribly inconvenient things about the Owlery at Hogwarts. Chief among these was how high up it was — there was no real reason to house birds in a tower — and the number of staircases David Townes had to ascend to get there. Couldn't the builders of the castle have thought to have a second coop at ground level? On the other hand, there was the faint smell of bird droppings that even the winter wind couldn't quite dull. Maybe it was for the best that these obstacles meant he wasn't there often.

He attached his letter — a short note to his mother; he tried to write to her as often as he could, in between homework and classes — to the foot of a mistrustful-looking school owl. He didn't have one of his own. He didn't really like birds. If he could avoid it he wouldn't write to anyone.

Well, maybe that was taking things too far.

The cage behind him rattled. Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder — and abruptly wished he hadn't.

Mary was visibly in some distress — distress, specifically, because while she was always animated by emotion, there was a divot between her brows and a hard set to her mouth that seemed so unlike her. David thought of what Gillian had said. He ought to say something.

What came out was, "You're not going to say hello at all now?" Which sounded a lot worse now that it had been said.

"Don't...have...the time."

She was frowning over her parchment, scribbling into a scrap of it that she'd braced against her palm. Whatever she was writing would probably be illegible. In Care of Magical Creatures, when they'd been younger and had to jot things down whilst standing up, he and Hugh would sometimes take notes with the parchment spread over each other's backs. David winced at the very idea of offering that, now.

He ought to say something. He knew it was the right thing to do. A little breath escaped him, too loud in the Owlery, against all odds.

"Gillian said," he began, wielding her name like a white flag. A safe third party in between the two of them.

But Mary, to his surprise, glared at him. "Gillian said what?" she said, waspishly. There was colour high in her cheeks.

David couldn't think what to say next. He couldn't find words at all. Nothing he had to say would be easy, and she obviously didn't want to hear it, anyway.

"Never mind," he said. "It's stupid."

Before, she never would have let him get away with leaving that unsaid. But she went back to her letter at once, tying it up to an owl furiously. He watched her fingers — pale with cold — fumble with the thread.

There was nothing to do but leave. Maybe it was for the best that he wasn't in the Owlery often.