#I cannot believe i am writing this

[shirozora-draws]

I really, really, really wanted a winter vibes doodle, and also I needed to warm up for the next round of fic illustrations. I see this as a win-win scenario.

And then I kept letting the brain talk me into an entire scenario around the doodle. Whoops.

In conclusion, happy holidays, have a human kid!Grogu riding a long-tailed reindeer.

[cherryxblossxms]

🔞 Letting Buggy fuck his frustrations into you~

[nsfw obviously, afab reader, oral (m receiving), some degradation, rough sex, some ass slapping, creampie, followed by fluffy aftercare; a lil devil fruit misuse; 1.6k ahahahaha this....... was intended to be short idk what happened]

He's extremely hesitant when you first bring it up because he knows he's strong, and he never wants to bring anger into the bedroom. He's already anxious when it comes to his relationship with you, he wonders how he ended up with someone like you and if he even deserves you. It's a thought that's on his mind on a near-constant basis, though it improves over time. So the first several times, he adamantly refuses.

He still tends to fall back on old habits and mannerisms and it takes a lot for him to rein himself back in, control it so he's not causing harm to you. He already feels awful when this causes a fight with you that he didn't intend. So even though you're the one bringing this subject up, he's still worried that he'll hurt you somehow, physically or emotionally or maybe even both, and he'd never forgive himself if it caused you to leave.

It takes a while to convince him. But eventually, there's one day where seemingly nothing was going right. Buggy and his crew dealt with a particularly annoying opponent, destroyed a town but didn't get much loot out of it, and none of the crew members could seem to do anything right. At this point, all he wants is to shut himself in his room with you and forget about the world.

And then he remembers your offer.

The second he gets back to the ship, he's dragging you back to his cabin. He doesn't say anything at first, but you can see the gears turning in his head, thinking of what he needs to say. When he finally does speak, it's clearly with much effort over thinly veiled desire and frustration, asking you if you're sure that you want this.

He asks you not once, not twice, but three times. Even as you move forward to kiss his jaw, as you trail your hands over his abdomen and down to cup his growing erection, as he lets you brush your lips over his, he's still asking in between to make absolutely sure you're okay with this, because once you give the okay, he's not letting you go and he's not going easy. And it's clear how much he's struggling not to take you right then and there.

Finally, once he's convinced you understand what you're asking for and established a safe word and a call sign in case things get out of control, it's like the floodgates open. He's ripping your shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. You're on your knees before you know what's happening, face to face with the straining tent in his pants, and Buggy's hand holding the back of your head to keep you close.

He has you undress him, exposing his fuzzy chest and watching as you undo and tug his pants down, and his cock is so eager that it slaps against your jaw, catching you with his dripping precum. It's always intoxicating being on your knees for your captain, but it's even moreso as he directs you on how to touch him, no hands allowed. But you're happy to oblige, teasing him with your tongue along the side of his shaft and along his heavy balls, drawing out a needy groan from his painted lips before he's gripping your hair, indicating his patience is waning quickly. And you're not one to want to anger your captain most days, or deprive him of what he needs. So you happily oblige, finally taking him into your mouth.

He's a struggle to fit in your mouth on a good day, blessed with a thick curved shaft that always manages to make you scream, and it's even harder now that you're doing this hands-free. But as Buggy directs your movements, bobbing your head on his dick, it's intoxicating letting him control your movement. It also doesn't help as you feel a hand suddenly grabbing your rear, having not even noticed he detached one. He temporarily lets go of your head to detach the other hand, using them to tug your pants and underwear down your thighs, before one hand comes back up to continue holding your head.

As you keep sucking him off, it shouldn't be a surprise as his one hand slides between your thighs, lightly brushing against your clit and sliding between your lower lips. What does surprise you both is how wet you are, and Buggy has no shame in pointing it out, commenting on how needy you are, what a slut you are to get off on being used like this. Buggy is no stranger to dirty talk, (it's hard to get him to stop talking about anything truly), but this time it's obvious how affected he is by everything.

He's quickly pumping one, two, three fingers between your legs, making you moan around his shaft as he preps you for the main event. With all the frustration built up in him, it's not long before he's twitching, already ready to cum, especially as he gets to listen to your noises. But he wants to finally take you. He pulls you off of him, dick coated in your spit, and you look fucked out already, making him chuckle. Once he reattaches the hand that was fingering you, he's finally completely removing your bottoms and hoisting you up in his arms, letting your legs wrap around his hips as he presses you to the cabin wall.

It's a struggle not to scream as he immediately pushes in, still causing some stretch even with all the prep. And although his thighs are shaking with the effort, he gives you just enough time to adjust before he's pounding you into the wood. If the ship wasn't already rocking with the sea, you're sure his movements alone would have made the place shake, the sounds of your wetness and skin slapping filling the air. At one point, he adjusts his position so your legs dangle over his forearms, effectively folding you like a lawn chair and allowing him to reach even deeper.

Your first orgasm blindsides you, making you scream and shake in his arms as Buggy keeps fucking you towards overstimulation, his movement barely halted as you suddenly clamp down on him. He slows his pace, but only barely, just enough to tell you how good you are for taking him like this... but that he's not done yet. You can barely register his words before you're on his bed, face down and ass up, thighs trembling from your orgasm and a cooling feeling between your legs as your cunt is exposed and presented.

You can only imagine what a mess it looks like, especially given the pounding he'd just given you, before a hand comes down on your ass, snapping you out of your thoughts and drawing a cry from your lips. Now this is not unusual for Buggy, whose hands are always finding their way to your ass. He loves the plush, the jiggle, and he especially loves the noises you make when he slaps it. But of course, even that's short-lived as he grinds his shaft against you, still hard and aching to cum already, before pushing in once more.

By now, although he hasn't cum yet, Buggy is actually feeling better already. Just having you cum for him, watching your expressions and feeling the way you hold onto him, eased much of his frustration, now mostly replaced by just his usual hunger for you. So he's quick to snap his hips against yours once more, making you moan against the sheets as he sets a brutal pace. Once again, one of his hands separates to keep up occasional slapping, making you tighten around him, before it eventually slides between your legs against to circle your clit.

The sensations are too much, and you're babbling as such before you realize it, but Buggy is quick to promise he's almost done, just a little bit longer, you're doing so good for him and he can't wait to fill you up. By now, his body is pressing down on yours, warm and sweaty and strong, his balls and thighs slapping against you with each thrust, and his detached hand still toying with your sensitive pearl, trying its hardest to make you cum again.

The combination of things finally drives you over the edge, and your orgasm triggers Buggy's this time, making you both moan in tandem as Buggy presses in close, cumming deep inside as your cunt tries to milk him for everything its worth. His moans echo in your ear, hot breath panting against your shoulder as you two struggle for breath. It takes much too long to separate, and the ache between your thighs tells you just how sore you'll be tomorrow. But as Buggy comes into your view, now seeking to check on your wellbeing after fucking your brains out, you can see that it'll be well worth it, his eyes only filled with love and worry now instead of their earlier anger.

Buggy always struggles a bit with aftercare, but he tries his best for you, finding the cleanest rag he can to clean between your legs. Once you're dressed in one of his shirts, he's quickly pulling you into his arms. It's sweet, if overbearing, how he's checking in with you and asking you about a hundred times if you're okay, if he was too rough, if there was anything you didn't like or if he scared you. You might have to interrupt him with a kiss to get him to stop for a moment, but once he's reassured about how you feel, he'll finally relax.

When you first brought up this offer, he was so scared about how it would turn out, afraid to hurt you and afraid to scare you off. But now that it's out of the way and he knows you're okay, he might be more willing to come to you more often with his... troubles.

[whenyouwishuponastar7]

Hi everyone!

I have to address something that has gone on and is currently occurring. This is the last thing I want to do because I have spent eight years in different fandoms and avoided as much drama as possible. I want no part in it. I want to enjoy my time here.

Unfortunately, this is no longer drama. This is about an individual harming people, their mental health, their safe spaces, their enjoyment of fandom, their favorite ship, and their writing. This is about an individual who chooses bigotry over friendship and will align themselves with bad people for popularity.

And they don’t care who they harm by doing it.

This person made my life a living hell for over five months. It started in August, but things took a turn in October. I was finally free of them in late February because that is when a fandom event ended that tied me to them.

During this event, this person stressed me out to the point of tears. They made passive-aggressive remarks about various things, which made me feel insecure about my fic and writing. They unexpectedly changed their medium and didn’t talk to me about it before they did; I admit I was taken aback, hurt, and short with them. I apologized and took accountability the following day.

From then on, I tried to be as supportive, kind and understanding as possible.

I was “pushy” in December and January because this person had not produced a single finished piece of their art, which would total ten pieces. I knew it was too late in January to get a pinch hitter, and I don’t care that I asked a few times how it was going when I had nothing. I handed them a completed fic on August 28th. They had nothing until mid-January (and almost didn’t make it to this deadline) but didn’t start the bulk of their work until late January 22nd and finished (except polishing and watermarking) on the 26th.

Final submissions were on January 31st.

It took them four days to do what they hadn’t done in five months. I asked if they needed an extension, and we got one because they were not done by the final submission day. I had watched another writer’s artist drop out at the last minute, and mods said they couldn’t find anyone to pinch-hit for them.

This experience was a bad one. I can’t express how shitty it felt. I didn’t write for three months during it, and the fics I’ve written since then aren’t very good. I also have watched my readership disappear—getting the hits and kudos I did before October stopped.

I had a feeling this individual might have been involved if they were talking about me, but I thought I was being paranoid. I still may be, but since this has all happened, I have started to regain readers. I find that interesting.

Anyway! This whole thing ended, and it was bitter for me. I don’t have any more enjoyment in this fandom. I love my ship, but I currently have no desire to write them. I’ve been depressed and I’m scarred from fandom events. This person took away my joy when I only wanted to participate in a fandom event with my friends and have fun.

Because fandom is supposed to be fun, it’s not supposed to do this to people. It’s insane that it does this to people, and I never wanted to be involved in this bullshit.

This person has gone on to enjoy other fandom events, write and produce art, and seems to be doing fine.

Through small but interesting events, I started to learn about this individual’s ‘perspective’ on the entire thing with me. And, hoo boy, it was a fucking ride.

I am still shocked, amazed, flabbergasted and kinda pissed off about how this person lied about me. Everything they said was a complete lie. They shared my DMs via screenshots out of context, warped what we were talking about to play the victim and get sympathy, and flat-out lied numerous times. I have been accused of forcing them to do things during the event when I have screenshot proof that never happened.

For everything this individual accused me of, I provided screenshots to tell the fucking truth.

Two people have told me the same phrasing: they made me out to be a monster.

A monster.

If anyone knows me, my character, they know I’m not a goddamn monster. I try to keep my head down, stay in my lane, play in my sandbox corner, enjoy my ships, and have fun with my friends.

To be called a monster or to have someone say, ‘you’re nothing like they made you out to be,’ is the most surreal moment of my adult life.

This is fiction, fandom; it’s not real, and not everyone makes a living off it. It’s a hobby, and it’s supposed to be enjoyable. Once we step away from our computers and phones, no one knows us as so and so, writer or artist of Ship. Meanwhile, this person is making me out to be the worst human being alive, and it is absolute insanity to learn how deep it goes.

The twists and turns, the lies, the complete lack of reality, the delusion. It’s creepy and disturbing. And, through finding all of this out, I pieced together a pattern of behavior that this individual has:

When you do something they don’t like, they distance themselves, become cold and passive-aggressive, and hold themselves above you. You are no longer of use to them. They dangle their friendship and attention on a lure, hoping you’ll bite, only to throw you back under.

Please understand that this is a dangerous thing—this is not fandom drama—this is a dangerous individual, and the person with whom they choose to spend their time speaks volumes.

I will not share names or screenshots. Screenshots have been shared with the right people, and I will not make it a public spectacle. I also choose to protect the privacy of my friends and others involved in this, of which there are many.

I have been accused of forcing this individual to do things, hating them and their work, being extremely pushy and stressing them out, and that my server was unwelcoming and the people in it were unkind, and various other things. Small things that didn’t mean anything to me were taken extremely personally and made into more lies to make this person a victim.

Such as my preferred formatting for posting my fic links on tumblr. They did not respect it, even though I attempted to respect their formatting for posting their art numerous times earlier, but I was told not to stress about it and, you guessed it—accused of forcing them to change things behind my back. Again, screenshots have been given to the right people.

This individual can delete everything, but we have our proof, as we have been gathering it. We will not publicly share anything, but if this individual decides to, we have the evidence to back it all up.

There were so many creepy and fucked up things that happened. I can’t list them without getting too personal, but please understand this person does not belong in our fandom.

They chase popular people, especially artists, to ‘collect’ them and lie to and manipulate their friends for sympathy. Their friends need to step away and see the light because they are being used—it’s not a real friendship. It is transactional.

And you should be offended. They will cast you aside when you’re useless to them, too.

If I seem mad, it’s because I am. I have been dealing with this since August, when I realized that many of their comments were strange. I didn’t know those were red flags at the time. This individual pretends to be friendly and claims to be ‘the nice one’ when things go wrong so they can keep their reputation. Interactions with them might seem harmless, but looking at them with a different scope makes them something far different.

Don’t ignore red flags or gut instincts.

This is my story, and it is not told exactly how I wish I could tell it. But I know this individual has hurt numerous other people. I was going to make this post without the ability to reblog, but I am leaving it open for now.

If you want to add your story, as I suspect many of you know who I am speaking of, please do. I ask that you avoid telling anyone else’s stories for them unless you have permission. Protect each other.

This stupid shit unites us. I’m not afraid anymore because I’m sick of watching my friends get hurt again and again.

This individual has befriended a known bully and transphobic person. I won’t speak any further on this because it is not my story, but please bear in mind that they chose a TERF over trans friends. And we know what they say about association.

Blindsided victims of this individual are not at fault for this person’s actions.

See something, say something. Terfs and bullies can GET FUCKED.

Share your story.

[mrghostrat]

when i tell you i found a handwritten postcard from a stranger in my new mailbox...........

addressed to "DARLING BEE!" !!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hyperrealisticblood]

the way banban interacts with the other mascots is lowkey fascinating to me like.......... he full believes he is uthman adam. in his mind, he is the scientist and they are his creations. he is in charge of them. he is better than them. he is a human man trapped underground with a bunch of freaks (and maybe banbaleena, given how toadster calls her "ms. mason" which means she might be in the same boat as him) and he respects them, but in the same way a scientist respects an animal theyre observing. thats why he was so chill about mutating nabnab for his own gain. he cant recognize that he is also an animal.

[dottores]

daily reminder that no one owns a trope & anyone can write their own interpretation of a trope with a character

[like-the-rest-of-la]

Happy Little Accidents

The last thing Eddie Diaz expects to come out of his trip to Buckley’s Plant Nursery & Landscaping with his son, is to develop an honest to god schoolgirl crush on the guy who owns the place (and not notice that that is what’s happening for an embarrassingly long time).  

The plan is simple. Get in, have Christopher pick out a couple of succulents or whatever he needs for his school project, and get out without infesting any of the gorgeous plants in the shop with his bad plant karma. 

But then, the first thing he’s greeted with is a hunk of a man, carrying two heavy packs of soil on his broad shoulders. Eddie swears he can see a drop of sweat running down the man’s face in slow motion. His t-shirt looks like it’s one strategic muscle flex away from bursting at the seams and Eddie—Eddie feels nervous all of the sudden. And he’s gaping like a fish. 

“Hey,” Hunk-man says as he hoists the soil on the counter next to him with a grunt, “What can I help you with?”

At least Eddie has enough self-awareness to close his mouth.

Or: the one where Buck owns a plant nursery and Eddie stumbles through his crush (and has no game during all of it)—oh and also, there are a lot of Bob Ross references.

Read on Ao3

(With a banner by the wonderful @theladyyavilee thank you so so so much <3)

[jasntodds]

Migraines | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Request: Anon - “Hey I get pretty bad migraines, and i was going the injury prompt list and #4 and #6 kind of remind me of how my lovely s/o takes care of me when i have an episode. I’d love to see those prompts with jason todd! Prompts: (from here) #4: Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them #6: Staying the night in case they need your help, being asked to sleep on the bed instead of the couch/floor

Summary: You have a migraine and try to hide it from Jason until you manage to faint in front of him, sending him into a worrying spin over you

Warnings: Description of migraines, friends to lovers, mentions of being nauseous from the migraine, fluff, hurt/comfort (kind of)

Words: 4,595

A/n: I am both a big sucker for injury prompts and Jason Todd so here we are lol I also get migraines so anon, I’m sorry you’re dealing with them 😭 I did friends to lovers just because I thought it fit a little better with the second prompt!! If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​​ !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

It starts as a mild headache. It’s just an ache in the beginning of your head at first that’s a bit annoying but nothing horrible. However, with your history of migraines, you take your precautions to prevent it from turning into a migraine. The thing about the migraines is they tend to send you out of commission until they go away. You always play it out to be just a mild headache or that you’re just tired and take a nap. Jason doesn’t actually know how bad your headaches (migraines) actually are. He’s Robin! Jason could have ten broken bones and still go out swinging. You get a migraine and want to explode.

After about two hours though, the mild headache has turned into a full-blown migraine. It’s throbbing in the front of your head. Your stomach is nauseous with the pain and every bit of light in the room makes you cringe. You’re in the library of Wayne Manor with Jason, sitting with him while the two of you read and reading is making it worse. You swear you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes, unable of focus your eyes or your attention on the book. Everything hurts, even moving your eyes is agonizing.

“You good?” Jason looks over at you, noticing you haven’t turned a page in a while.

“Oh, yeah.” Your voice is quiet as you give him a fake smile and a very subtle reassuring nod, almost wincing with the movement.

“You don’t look good.” Jason sees the grimace across your face. “Seriously,” He puts his finger in the book to hold the page while he closes it. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired.” You shrug it off. “I’m just gonna take a nap.” You smile sweetly but faintly.

“You’re a bad fucking liar.” Jason chuckles softly as you get off the couch. “I know something’s wrong, can’t hide it from me, babe.” There’s a cheeky grin tugging at his lips when you turn to face him, knowing he’s trying to get the real answer out of you by being cheeky.

“Jay, I’m fine.” You insist, giving him a toothy grin as if that’s enough to convince him but the window is right behind Jason and you moved too quickly.

Everything is spinning and throbbing and pounding and your vision is blurring in and out. Everything is agonizing and all you want to do is curl into a ball and melt away. Your heart is starting to race while your legs are starting to feel weak and shaky.

“Y/n?” Jason calls, the grin completely vanishing as he watches the look at your face turn distant and shallow just as your legs give out.

Jason scrambles to his feet, catching your head just before you hit the ground. Panic courses through Jason’s blood as he holds your head in his hands, unsure of what just happened. You’ve never fainted before. He knew something was wrong but something wrong enough to make you faint? He never would have guessed and he’s kicking himself for not realizing that it was something that bad. He should known better, paid closer attention maybe. Something. But, then your eyes open slowly, you barely coming to with your head still pounding like a kickdrum at a rock concert.

“Hey, holy shit, are you okay?” Jason’s words are slurred as he looks at you but you can’t make them out. Everything sounds mixed together, hazy even. “Y/n?” Jason asks and as your vision starts to steady slightly, you can make out his brown eyes laced in worry, forehead wrinkled.

The jig is up.

“Migraine.” You mutter out.

Jason lets out a sigh, wondering why you didn’t just tell him. You both make fun of each other with little stuff. It’s all fun and games though, Jason tends to take some low blows when he gets mad but it’s never anything too horrible and you know where not to cross a line. Had you just told him you had a migraine, he wouldn’t have made a joke or yelled to make it worse. He would have just let you rest. Jason knows his constant training even with an injury isn’t normal, most people know when to tap out. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, unable to take a break even from just reading a book with him.

“Come on.” Jason slides his hands out from under your head as you sit up. “Get your ass to bed.” Jason stands up, offering both of his hands to you to help you up.

You take his hands gingerly in yours, carefully and slowly getting up, trying not to move too much or too fast. “I’ll be fine.” You brush it off once you’re on your feet.

You don’t want to bother him with it. Migraines are debilitating but it’s still a headache. It just sounds so pitiful in a way. You have to nap in the middle of the day over a headache. Jason shouldn’t be bothered with it or you. You’ll take a nap and maybe you’ll feel better later. 

“Yeah, then ya fucking fainted.” Jason scoffs, not realizing he was still holding your hands.

“Mhm.” You hum, your mouth dry from the nausea of the throbbing headache.

“I’ll walk you.” He offers, realizing your hands are soft in his.

His heart swells with the idea but he lets go and opts to move to your side, resting a hand on the small of your back. He gestures for you to start walking, him walking right beside you and not moving his hand just making sure you don’t fall or faint again.

If your head wasn’t a throbbing and pulsating mess right now, you’d have some comment about how nice he’s being. Jason can be a little less than nice at times with people, but he does have these really nice moments with you ever since you followed him to Gotham. It’s….domestic in a way. At Titans Tower, there was this ruggedness to everything and this hardness that almost surrounded him, a bitterness that ate at his bones. But, when he’s here, he’s kinder. He’s still rough around the edges, that’s just Jason but he’s kinder and you’d be lying if you said you don’t like the kinder side of him that mixes with his sarcasm. And maybe if your head wasn’t causing such agonizing pain, you’d notice him looking more at you instead of where you were walking, his eyes laced with worry. It’s just a headache he tells himself, but he worries anyway because it’s you.

Jason gets you to bed, you swearing you can get into bed just fine but he doesn’t take that for an answers. You fainted in front of him and now he’s determined to not let you do anything until you’re feeling better. You’re his best friend and while it’s a migraine, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself more or prolong the pain. So, he pulls the blankets over you and takes your phone from you before putting it on silent and putting it on your nightstand.

“Did you need anything?” He asks, trying to hide his concern from his voice.

“No,” You say softly, comfortable in your bed now and glad to be able to sleep. “Thanks.”

Jason nods, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Text me if you need something, alright? Don’t go getting up and making shit worse.” Jason offers an awkward laugh.

“Yes, sir.” You mutter, giving him a soft smile.

“I mean it.” He warns as he starts walking towards the door.

“Thanks, Jay.” Your voice is a little louder this time so you know he’ll hear you.

Jason smiles softly. “Yeah.” He nods at you before leaving your room, shutting the door slowly and quietly to allow you to sleep.

Jason leaves you alone for a few hours, casually passing by your room every fifteen minutes just in case. Of course, Jason doesn’t realize he’s passing by so often. He’ll go into one of the living areas and then conveniently remember he needed something from his room which is next to yours. Or he’ll go back to the library only to realize he needed something from the kitchen which means he has to pass by your room. He plays this little game for a few hours, getting an eyebrow raise from Bruce every time Jason passes him in a different room. After the fifth time, Bruce finally just asked what was going on. Jason tried to brush it off with “Forgot something again.” Bruce didn’t press but figured it had something to do with you. Jason isn’t the forgetful type and it made Bruce chuckle softly to himself.

But, after that few hours, Jason got a bit stir-crazy worrying about you. You’re his main form of entertainment here. You’re both either training (to Bruce’s dismay) or joking with each other or reading. You show him a lot of movies and TV shows he’s missed. You’re always together and now he’s just bored and worried. So, he makes his way to your room around 10pm with a glass of water and he knocks softly, hoping it wasn’t too loud but that you heard him. You don’t answer though and Jason feels a bit more worried, so he opens the door just slightly to look inside.

You’re asleep in the same exact position he left you in. Your room is completely dark, the currents drawn and the TV off. But, Jason shines just enough light into your room to stir you awake. Your eyes peek open, catching a blurry glimpse of him in your doorframe, able to make out his dark hair.

“Jay?” You question, barely noticing the throbbing of your head slightly better than it was a few hours ago.

“Sorry.” Jason mumbles. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t die or some shit.” He brushes the worry from his words, trying to act casual.

“I’m alive.” Your voice is weak, stinging Jason’s heart.

Jason takes a step in the room, leaving the door cracked so he can actually see you. “Feeling any better?” He asks.

“Migraine is still kicking.” The sarcasm in your voice is even weak and Jason feels so bad for you.

And he’s still worried because you don’t normally nap this long. It makes him wonder if you nap just long enough to ease some of the migraine but still keep up appearances. But now he does know, so maybe your migraines do last this long after all this time and he feels horrible.

“Well,” Jason walks over, resting the water on your nightstand which you definitely take note of. Was that the excuse he was going to use if you were awake? Bringing you a glass of water? That’s kind of sweet. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get my stuff then.” He holds his head up high, chest puffing out slightly. “Gotta make you sure you don’t croak in your sleep or something.” Jason nods his head, giving you this half-cocked grin. “Or,” Jason clears his throat. “Just in case you need something.”

“In case I need something?” You wanna make fun of him so bad, you love making fun of him. It’s how you two show affection but, you’re actually curious where this is going. The migraine might still be kicking, but the curiosity has now taken over.

“Yeah,” He shrugs casually. “I don’t want you to suffer longer so if you need something, you won’t have to deal with it.” He shifts his weight from his toes to heels.

“Awww.” You manage the quip with a smile.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason chuckles softly, dodging his eyes from you for a second. “So, I’m staying in here tonight and you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

“Fine.” You try to sound stern but there’s a smile playing at your lips and your chest bursts of warmth with having Jason stay in your room.

That’s something neither of you do. You are friends and the flirting sometimes gets a bit…too flirty. There’s a difference between two friends flirting and joking around and whatever the hell the two of you do. You always get just a little too close to Jason and Jason always comes up with a quip that’s said a little too seriously. There is this invisible line neither of you have ever crossed because it overcomplicates a fun situation. Jason doesn’t think you’re into him that way and you think if you were to ever tell Jason, he’d laugh or make it weird. But, maybe this is a good opportunity to try something a little less flirty and fun and try something a little more casual and soft.

When Jason comes back, he’s in grey joggers and a loose black t-shirt. He has a pillow with a beige pleated pillowcase under one arm and a matching blanket draped over the other arm. He said he’d go get his stuff but you were certain he was just being dramatic. Jason has always had a flare for the dramatics. And a part of you thought for sure Jason was just going to slide into bed with you with a cheeky grin because that’s just Jason. But, he doesn’t. He puts his pillow on the floor beside your side of the bed. You eye him with suspicion, not moving your head and you want to laugh but you know it’ll just hurt.

“What’re you doing?” You ask once Jason sits on the floor.

He looks at you with, what you swear seems to be innocence. “Sleeping on the floor?” He questions back, not sure why you’re asking.

You let out a huff, smiling down at him. “Can you just sleep in the bed with me, please?” You ask and at this point, you don’t even want to deny the fact having him next to you would at least bring you comfort. You always sit close to him because it’s comforting but having him sleeping next to you now with a throbbing migraine? That might be the only thing you actually want, besides the pain to stop.

Jason gains this smirk and devious look in his eyes. “Oh, want me in the bed, huh?”

“Shut up.” You groan. “I said please.” You pout a lip at him and Jason swears he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Since you asked so nicely, babe.” He emphasizes the word and your stomach spins with butterflies.

Jason walks to the other side of the bed and gently flips the blankets up to get underneath them. He tries to play this off in the cool, calm, and collected way he tries to play everything like this, getting a little too close to you. His heart is thundering in his chest and he tells himself that you’re just being nice because he’s being nice. This is a nice, friendly thing to do to make sure you’re okay and he doesn’t wake up with back pain in the morning. This is a casual, friendly thing you’re doing.

You roll over slowly, careful not to move your head too much. The migraine is just barely starting to subside but you know if you move too much or try to stay awake, it will come back with a vengeance. So, you remain careful as you move closer to Jason. He stretches his arm behind your head almost instinctively, careful not to hit to your head with the movement. Your head lays on his chest and you have to admit, he is so warm.

Jason brings his arm around you, pulling you closer to him and this is kind of nice. He wishes your head wasn’t in pain so maybe this would be something a little more or something would come out of it. But, he’s so sure that you’re only willing to cuddle with him like this because you’re in pain and for a reason he doesn’t fully understand, you find comfort in him being here. Your head is aching but this is the most comfortable you’ve been in forever. Jason is comfortable.

“Thanks for checking on me.” You whisper to him, your eyes closed as you listen to his heart still thundering in his chest. “And the water.”

A bashful smile comes to his lips. “Yeah,” You feel him huff under you. “‘Course.”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You ask.

Jason pauses, his eyes widening. How is he somehow at a loss for words? He’s never at a loss for words but how’s he supposed to answer that without admitting anything? Your question and his running through about it just made his heart beat faster.

“Are you...nervous?” A gentle chuckle leaves your lips, you wincing with the throbbing.

“Fuck off, no I’m not nervous.” Jason groans.

“Okay, Jason.” A snicker comes from you. “Seriously, thank you for staying.” Your voice is quiet and coated in a honey-like sincerity.

Jason sucks in a breath and honesty isn’t exactly his thing. Not that he lies, he just doesn’t say how he feels but you’re kind of really important to him.

“Yeah, well, I’d kind of doing anything for your ass.” Jason chuckles.

“I know.” You smile to yourself. You know he would. He’s a bit rough around the edges and he has his issues that he’s kind of trying to deal with, but you know he’d do anything for you. “I’d do anything for you, too.” You admit, just sensing the deadpan expression he’s giving you. But before he can turn it into some type of flirty, taunting banter, you continue. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Y/n.” Jason lets out a sigh, rubbing your back lightly.

You fall asleep first, the migraine fully wearing you out and Jason offers the perfect amount of comfort. He’s soft and there’s a firmness of his chest that isn’t hard or too stiff. It’s just firm enough to offer support and just the right amount of soft. You think he makes a better pillow than your own (which is insane since Bruce did not skimp on the pillows). Jason, on the other hand, he stays awake a little longer.

It’s been harder for him to fall asleep ever since Deathstroke. But, tonight, that’s not where his head is focused and he has to admit, it’s a bit cathartic. He’s so careful not to move or tense up with you so peacefully asleep under him. He doesn’t want to disturb you because of your migraine and he doesn’t want to disturb you and make you move away from him. You keep him calm and turn his brain off for a little bit. He always chalked it up to you being friends. You’re one of the only people who ever really listened to him anyway and that always helped a bit but, he’s looking down at you with this gentle smile and that’s his real ‘oh shit’ moment. 

It’s not just flirting for fun or the joking banter, but a genuine liking between him and you. Deep inside, he knew why he was worried about you and why his heart was beating so fast. Deep down he knew why he didn’t risk immediately getting into bed with you, because he didn’t want to scare you off and risk you turning him away from the room altogether. But, right now with the dark room and you asleep on his chest, finding comfort in him, he knows and he knows he won’t be able to ignore the warmth in the pit of his stomach. So, he closes his eyes and settles with the thought of maybe. With the thought of maybe something happening between the two of you and the thought of maybe this becoming your thing because that’s where he finds comfort. In the thought of maybe.

The next morning comes around and you wake up first, bright and early. Your head is a bit groggy from the migraine but you’re finally away from the pain. As long as you get some food and water, it should stay away. You’re in such a state of relief the migraine has finally released you from it’s grip, you almost don’t realize your head is still on Jason’s chest. It only takes less a minute for you to realize it but it’s long enough to surprise you.

You sit up slightly, looking at him and for once, Jason Todd looks peaceful. There’s a blooming happiness that pulls at your heart as you watch him. He’s had it rough and he never really looks at peace, not fully but he does right now and you adore him so much. You don’t think he sees how happy he makes you and you wish he did. Jason Todd also deserves to live in peace and happiness with love and acceptance and that’s all you ever really want for him.

“Hey.” You whisper, poking his cheek softly. “Jaaaayyyyyy.” You hold out his name, poking his cheek again as he scrunches his face and you swear it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“What?” He mumbles, voice drenched in sleep, almost incoherent. 

“You’re kind of cute when you’re sleeping.” You keep your voice a whisper and it’s the most graceful alarm Jason has ever had. Alarm even seems like too harsh of a word to call you.

He peaks an eye open at you, managing this expression of a cross between annoyance and teasing. “Just my face, babe.” He has this tired smirk that gets your stomach in a twist.

“Eh.” You shrug at him while he opens his other eye. “‘S alright, I guess.” You tease him and the annoyance evaporates from his expression.

“How long’ve you been up?” Jason asks, enjoying the lively expression back on your face.

You look like the sun now which he thinks is a cheesy thought but it’s true. Last night, you looked like a rain cloud and not even the cool ones that are large and fluffy, consuming the whole sky in lumps of deep greys and blues. No, last night you just looked like the rain smog around Gotham, gloomy and tired.

“Just a few minutes.” You answer casually before running a hand through his hair. It’s wild this morning, curly strands standing up and scattered about the pillow.

“What’re you doing?” Jason laughs, eyes looking up at your arm and back you.

“Messing with your hair, it’s shockingly soft.”

“Shockingly?” Jason chortles. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” You laugh back, pulling your hand away and resting it on his chest. “Thought it would be stringy.”

Jason’s brows furrows, the smile still tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay, perfect sense.” He jokes with you and there’s something about how this feels right now. It’s not the tension-filled flirting the two of you do. There’s something so domestic about it that he really likes. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” Your eyes widen dramatically.

“Alright, what do ya want?” Jason wiggles his brows at you. “I’ll cook.”

Your brows shoot up with surprise. Jason has cooked for you a handful of times, but it’s not that he really offers. He just kind of makes something and then tells you to try it. “What’re you up to, Todd?” Your eyes narrow at him playfully.

Jason shakes his head, smile turning down and then twitching back up. “Just being nice.”

“Well, I won’t turn down food.” You laugh softly before telling him one of your favorite breakfast foods.

“You got it.” Jason nods at you while you get off of him so he can get off the bed.

“Are you gonna bring it to me?” You pout up at him as he looks down at you. He thinks you look pitiful in the cutest way possible.

He shakes his head and he wants to argue it, tease you but he can’t. “Fine, but you owe me.” Jason has a one-sided grin as he points a finger at you jokingly.

“I’ll take that.” You beam a smile up at him, shocked he actually said he’d bring it to you.

Jason tosses the idea around in his head and you’re clearly feeling better, so why not? “How about a date then?” The words are much smoother than the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s a bit panicked that he just asked that, thinking maybe you’d actually say no or laugh. He’d be devastated if you did and then probably hide out in the Batcave for the rest of the day.

The smile falls from your face for a second, unsure if he’s joking or not. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. He actually looks pretty serious despite the devious grin on his face. There’s a pleading in his eyes that tells you he’s completely serious and you just can’t believe it. You thought Jason just liked flirting and maybe he does, but you thought that’s all it was. It was something you just accepted after a few months at Titans Tower. You just accepted that’s all it would ever be but now? It seems as if it’s real.

“Seriously?” You ask, your voice not giving Jason any indication on how you feel about it.

He shrugs a shoulder, trying his best to play it off. “Yeah, why not?”

The smile comes back to your face and you can feel the heat coming to your cheeks. “Yeah, okay. When do you wanna go?”

Jason’s heart is exploding into fireworks across his chest. You actually said yes. But, he didn’t think he’d get this far into the conversation so now he’s just stuck making it up on the fly. “Tomorrow?” Jason asks, figuring tomorrow would be better in case you need today to recover from the migraine.

“It’s a date.” You’re beaming up at him and the giddiness consumes your bones like a kid in a candy story for the first time.

“Awesome.” Jason smiles widely, looking to the floor and back to you, a few strands of his hair bouncing onto his forehead. “I’ll go make your breakfast and bring it to you then.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You give him a toothy smile. “You’re gonna eat with me right?”

“I guess.” Jason wrinkles his nose, his cheeks starting to ache from the smile.

“Okay, well hurry up, I wanna hear about this date you have planned.” You tease him and watch him stiffen just slightly.

“Just for that,” Jason says as he heads for the door. “I’ll take my sweet ass time.”

“Or, you could hurry up and come back to bed.” You taunt him, brushing your hand over his side of the bed and you can see his jaw clench.

“Fuck, yeah, alright.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost and you fall into a fit of laughter, a sound Jason adores. “I’ll be right back.” Jason says before quickly leaving the room, leaving your door open just a bit.

You fall back into the pillows, ecstatic that you have a date with your best friend and he’s making you breakfast. A part of you finds it funny that this whole thing is because you fainted over a migraine.

masterlist | request info | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin​

[m1d-45]

death, rebirth, new life

summary: uh zhongli gets nerfed, you get some new friends, xiao has a crisis of morality(?)

word count: ~3.2k

-> warnings: major spoilers for xiao lore, like very major. spoilers for liyue archon quest. not much else

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @thehoneymushroomhealer || @imyme20 || @bittersweetorpheus || @vampirecatsw || @willburzone || @some-mildly-happy-human|| @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy || @inmyprinceerafr || @depressed-bitchy-demon || @kithewanderingme

<< first part || < masterlist > || next part >>

zhongli allows his weapon to fade back into golden dust, his mind involuntarily comparing it to the way you dissolved before him.

they were quite similar. after he’d pulled away his polearm, you had sent him a final smile as your body disintegrated into white flakes, much like his spear had, the water rushing back to fill the space you’d left. it had surprised him, because he’d expected you to fall into the black smoke that hilichurls did. unless he had made some sort of…

no, he tells himself, shaking his head. you deserved it. to wear a face that wasn’t yours, to defy his god so, his actions were entirely jus-

a spike of pain drives into his lower back and zhongli reaches behind him with a hiss, feeling for whatever’s hurt him only to land on the glass of his fake vision. it stings through his gloves, and he’s quick to yank it off, uncaring as the string it’s hung on snaps. the small gems on it scatter, but he’s focused on the glass in his hand.

or, rather, the floor. his hand still hurts from the pricks of invisible needles it stabbed into his skin, and he wasn’t keen on holding it any longer.

“what’s wrong?” hu tao comes up to his side, hand landing on his shoulder. “are you okay? is your vision?”

“it’s nothing.”

discretely, he tries to turn a pebble on the floor in front of him. he tells himself it’s nothing, he knows it’ll work, he just needs the confirmation for himself, since if a fake vision could react like that..

“hey, don’t worry about it. the dead need to stay that way. whoever that was, i trust your judgement. i’m certain you did the-“

she cuts herself off with a pained cry, her shoulders jerk back as her hands reach for her back, her face twisting in pain. zhongli takes a step over his ‘vision’, turning her by the shoulder to see what he knows but doesn’t want to believe.

her vision is glowing brightly, the diamond-shaped gem heating up the metal around it. he wastes no time in removing it from the clip holding it in place, though he has to drop it as well from the heat. it burned her jacket, and she’ll certainly need a new one, but that’s not what he’s worried for.

after all, the stone hadn’t moved.

the sun stung your eyes through your lids, forcing you awake if only to move to a more shaded area. the ground beneath you was hard but not harsh, warmer than wuwang hill by a long shot. you were tempted to stay, to allow yourself to slip back into sleep…

something squishy bumped into your right arm.

you pushed your eyes open, pulling at the numb strings of muscles in your arms to help yourself up. you were sitting in a stone… building would be too generous. there were four pillars and a roof, with a ramp to your left and a staircase in front of you.

and immediately to your right, the object that bumped you earlier, is a small dendro slime.

wide orange eyes peer up at you, the sight cute enough for you to forget your aches.

“hey,” you mumble, reaching a wobbly hand to nudge against its side. the slime chitters, hopping into your lap, and you notice something shining in the leaves atop its head. it doesn’t seem bothered, only pressing itself further into your hand with a chirp that nearly sounds apologetic.

“don’t be sorry.” you move your hand to pet over the stems on top of it, the slime’s eyes slowly beginning to close. you feel something hard beneath your palm, and move to see what it is. in the center of the slime’s head is a small tangle of grass, something golden shimmering in the center. you’ve never looked really hard at the models in-game, mostly because they’re always attacking you, so you’re not sure if this is meant to be there or not. maybe they’re like crystalflies, with a core in the middle? but why be exposed…

the slime chirps in your lap and you move your hand away, a ‘sorry’ on the edge of your lips when it stretches to move the tangle between your fingers. did it want you to fix it?

you tilt the slime towards you, but you don’t have a chance to try. as you watch, the tangle undoes itself, cradling a golden ring between the stalks. it looks about your size, with a small blue gem embedded on one side. the slime makes a soft noise, the ring sliding forward as it tilts.

“for me?”

you picked up the ring at its affirmative trill, sliding it onto your finger. it fit as good as it looked, surprisingly. where had the slime gotten a ring your size, let alone know it would fit you?

the slime looked up, seeking a response, and you smiled.

“thank you, little guy. it’s beautiful.” the slime visibly grew happy, hopping lightly in your lap, and you couldn’t help but laugh. it looked so excited, orange eyes beaming as it twirled itself into a little circle. how could they be enemies?

“where’d you get this?”

your question didn’t dampen its excitement—a surprise, since you expected it to have stolen the ring—and it only hopped off your lap, moving halfway down the staircase before looking back at you.

using the pillars to support yourself, you stood, wincing at the combined pain of old wounds and sleeping on rock. as you carefully move down the steps, you hope that the slime wont lead you to some poor merchant’s cart.

the small slime hopped along a dirt path, and you took the time to look around. behind you to the left was a large pit, for lack of a better word, a tree growing in the center on a platform surrounded by water. if you had to guess, you were probably still in liyue, just more south. the horizon was dotted with spires, and you think you see something like the jade chamber off to the left of your current path. it’s hard to tell, given the distance, but…

the sounds of humanoid chanting reaches your ears, and you startle for a moment before hearing the trademark woo! of an abyss mage. the slime stops, checking on you, but you just give it another smile as you continue to walk. so it got it from hilichurls, then? odd, but better than stealing it from somebody. it was in remarkable condition for being from hilichurls, though…

the slime leads you onto some rocks, and you can see the camp just below you. an abyss mage turns as you approach, the red film of a shield beginning to appear around it before it recognizes you. it was a small camp, only a handful of hilichurls around, and they all crowd you as you climb down the rocks.

the abyss mage chitters in a language you don’t understand, its red ears flopping as it gestures. it finishes with a deep bow, looking up at you, and your face twists in apology. luckily, it seems to get it, pointing to you before waving you into the camp. you take its hand and let it lead you to a crate to sit on, watching as it turns to the rest of the group and says… something. nonetheless, the hilichurls seem to get it, all nodding. the abyss mage puts its hands on its hips, satisfied.

the dendro samachurl says something to the large mitachurl, who nods, hefting its rock shield and standing near the entrance of the camp. the samachurl then pulls over another hilichurl as it walks to you. its staff is more at eye level with you than it is.

the samachurl chitters beneath the mask, and the hilichurl besides it—you assume, based on prior experiences—translates.

“unu boya ika zido mosi aba nunu,” it says, pointing further down the path, where you can barely see a wooden structure.

now, your hilichurl isn’t the best. in the beginning, you learned somewhat, but definitely not enough to know the entirety of what it just said. you catch the word for enemy and some sort of time word you think means later in the day, so that together with the gesture.. you’re hopefully assuming that it means later in the day there will be enemies, likely the millelith, over that direction.

you nod. the hilichurl seems proud of itself.

the samachurl continues, much shorter this time, and the hilichurl holds out a hand.

“muhu mita?”

ah. those ones you know just fine.

you accept the offer of a meal and let it walk you to a rock near a campfire, listening as they talk to each other. they bring you food and share more amongst themselves, the electro shooter waving its bandaged hands in a story you didn’t try to decipher. the heat of noon begins to fade after an hour or two, and though the campfire is now embers and your wooden plate is empty, you’re content.

the dendro slime from earlier sticks close to you, shifting as close to the dying fire as it dared whilst being out of range of the jumping sparks. it wasn’t particularly cold, only around 3ish by your best judgement. the sun still shone in the sky, washing over sand and stone and the things that sparkled under it. there was nothing to worry over, nobody near, and the mitachurl and pyro grenadier were still guarding the entrance. it was a welcome respite.

you hope it’ll last.

xiao pulled his polearm from the body of a hilichurl, picking a tuft of matted red hair from the jade edge. the shattered remains of its mask fell to the floor as its body dissolved, but he just stepped over it, dismissing his weapon. the boy from qingce was uninjured, the hilichurl grenadier had fallen, and his work here was done.

“-jianguo, what are you doing out here? you should know better than to wander near wuwang hill!”

xiao rolled his eyes, hoping the fading debt of the hilichurls would dissipate faster. he couldn’t leave without endangering the child or his mother, but he wanted to leave earlier sometimes, if only so people would learn not to wander into areas they didn’t belong.

“but mama, all the hilichurls fled to wuwang hill! our charms worked!” the small boy triumphantly held up a small piece of paper, sloppily colored gold with some sort of crayon. shaky black penmanship made a crude imitation of a sigil of permission, a hilichurl’s mask in the center. or, at least, he assumed that’s what it was. children…

“no, jianguo, hilichurls don’t listen to your sigils! just… just stay away from wuwang hill, okay? say your thanks to the nice man who saved you and let’s go home.”

the boy turned, wide eyes fixed on him, and xiao checked that he had absorbed enough of the karma for it to be safe before teleporting away.

he landed on unfamiliar dirt, haunting trees surrounding him. judging by the blue wisps floating around, he could guess he was in the forests atop wuwang hill.

his question was why.

normally, he teleports away to the next source of concentrated karma to ensure it doesn’t end up infecting the people of liyue. but this… he knew wuwang hill had hilichurls and cicin mages, but certainly not a high enough concentration, right?

‘…all the hilichurls fled to wuwang hill!’

unless something called them here.

with one hand on his mask, xiao drew his spear and started to walk.

the forest was oddly quiet. the leaves themselves seemed to stay still, the only noise being made by his shoes upon the path. there were no cicins, nor their mages, nor hilichurls of any kind. yet what was left of his tattered soul was called up the path, some remnant of an instinct telling him to let go of his polearm.

he gripped it tighter in response.

the stone steps ahead seemed to taunt him, seeming to stretch further and further away as he walked. whatever intuition tugged at him felt like it was tied around his soul, tying up the scattered pieces to drag around. it.. was less irritating than it should be, something that frightened him more.

every step he took highlighted the rips across his heart, the scars of karma accentuated. but it wasn’t the surveying gaze of a predator looking for weak points, the invisible eyes prying into his soul neither threatening or aggressive. it felt like he was being assessed by a doctor, like he was young and still being fostered by morax, like he’d gotten into a scuffle with bosacious and he was being scolded even as his arm was being bandaged, the warm mug of tea in his hand soothing the ache in his knuckles-

water on his cheek drew his attention, and he was quick to wipe it off his face, glancing at the sky. he didn’t remember any stormclouds coming in, and the skies seemed..

clear…

…

xiao set his jaw and kept walking, determined to keep his mind on his task.

the stone was cold beneath his feet, the seelie court glowing as the seelie inside buzzed. xiao turned the corner, ignoring the weird feeling in his chest. it had to be nothing. it had to be just some random memory that he was reminded of because of the trees, or the air, or… anything.

xiao walked up the second set of stairs, stopping at the top in shock. the pathway across the pool in front of the domain was covered in wildlife, everything that was missing from the forest condensed into one space on the path. birds, butterflies, even a crane and an electro cicin, all gathered around a small space.

he slowly took a step forward, confused by the display. to see so many animals getting along, crowding such an area as wuwang hill..

xiao continued to walk, his foot splashing into the water above the path harsher than he intended. he froze, making sure he didn’t disturb anything, but the gathering remained. he quickly made his way over the tree in the middle of the path, ensuring he landed quieter this time. as he closer, the details of what he was looking at slowly filled in. between the legs of cranes and over the heads of crows, he could see that a portion of the stone was a different color than the rest. the water above it also refused to move, the ripples from the various animals not moving it an inch.

the birds finally moved when he got close enough, flapping over to the opposite side of the discolored stone. xiao crouched at the edge of the still water, mindful not to get himself wet.

the stone, and water to some extent, thin as it was, was stained a yellowish color. the path looked newer, less worn, the water above it clearer.

his frown deepened the longer he looked at it. he’d never seen anything like this, any substance that froze water while it was still liquid and cleaned it of any dirt whilst never dispersing. he never saw so much wildlife, for lack of better words, getting along like this. the cicin confused him further- it also linked back to what he’d heard, that hilichurls had been called back to wuwang, but he’d yet to see one.

the slashes across his heart pulsed as it beat, reminding him of their presence as he tried to focus. the string tied in his chest pulled him forward, to reach and sink into the shallow pool of gold. he shouldn’t, it was dangerous, he didn’t know what it was or what effect it had on him—he should leave now, in rationality, because he was already being affected. if whatever this was was strong enough to affect him, a yaksha, then surely it was a danger to the villagers nearby..

then why didn’t he feel like it was a danger? why, though his heart burned with the remains of his karmic debt, eternities of slaughter, did he feel lighter?

questions remained unanswered as the pull strengthened, the animals around him growing bold, risking being near him for the chance to crowd the shimmering water. he checked that there wasn’t anything or anybody lying in wait—the chance of this being a trap was too high to ignore—before hesitantly dismissing his polearm, making way for a large raven to land beside him.

xiao stared at the bird, watching as it kept its body entirely out of the odd zone while still sticking close. did it not feel the same pull as he did? was this water meant for creatures such as him, with lifetimes worth of sin on their shoulders? was this where the hilichurls vanished into?

his heart beat against his ribs, the cuts of karma pulsing with it. this water, this stone, he had to be affecting it somehow. though he made sure that his shoes were outside the boundary and that his hands didn’t touch inside it, it was hard to deny the way whatever was dissolved in the water was attracted to his end. it had formed a gradient, the sheen across it darker on his end. he felt a need to reach out, to hold his dirtied past to this cleansing water and be clean of it. no matter how impossible. no matter how irrational. no matter how hard he tried to tell himself it was outlandish and would only get him into trouble, no matter how strong his will or how many rips crossed his heart.

…when xiao gave in and touched the golden stain, one of the tears healed.

the water’s shine faded in an instant, quickly turning back to clear as the stone beneath it aged before his eyes; animals around him rustled and cried, feathers ruffling as they came to their senses and took flight, leaving him with his hands over his sternum and a bright light beneath his skin.

feeling like one of the birds himself, xiao sat in a daze, his mind racing as he tried to rationalize what just occurred.

what was that? what had happened? why did he feel so light? why was his mind covered in warmth and memories of his time with the yakshas, with morax, with the traveller, why was he so- so free? what happened to the chains of karma crossing his limbs, binding him to his nightmares? what happened to the voices repeating his sins as the worst song ever played, where did the pain and the aches and his debt go? how could this water heal what the adepti could not? what morax could not?

clutching the healed seam of his soul, alatus fled.

[neverchecking]

I come to you with not just a request but a challenge koridai x reader nsfw with a side of breeding kink please, I dare you.

(Honestly just do what you can I want to see if someone can make nsfw with koridai, like in general and I believe in your skills) (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

nhhh you guys understand that I can't back down from a challenge , >:( /J

Smut so MDNI! 18+

Everyone go thank @angry-trashcan for making this 10x more painful. Enjoy :D

Smut CW: Breeding Kink, Ko*idai, I kept it G/N but there is talk of trapping reader with a baby. I never confirm if it is possible with Ko*idai's partner though.

"Golly."

There weren't enough words in the Hyrulean language to describe the pure, unfiltered bliss he was feeling. From the buzz deep down in his toes to the mindless feeling of mindless lust clouding any and all rational thought in his soupy brain right now.

All he knew was that you were such a sight to behold. The sheen of your skin as sweat dripped down in salty pearls down every curve of your flesh glowed in the limited last, casting your form in a heavenly glow so perfectly suited for you. Anything painting you as the divine deity he knew you to be suited you.

Golden Goddess above, even the shine of your eyes, watching him as you sunk down his shaft only to raise yourself up once more has him shaking in want. His arms were already locked around your back, feeling the heat pulsate off of your flushed skin, as your own hands laid on his shoulders, pushing down with every move you made or letting up to let you sink back down. It was a continuous rhythm you picked up for yourself. Something that kept him yearning for more but placated enough he wouldn't dare disobey your command.

Who was he to do so anyway?

He was nothing more than a servant to your demand. Your glorious decree.

"I really, really need you to stop talking." You panted, raising one of your hands to comb through his bands, pushing them back before using them to pull his head back. Your eyes were half-lidded as you stared down at him, daring him to speak back to your demand. Why would he ever dream of such a thing? "You sometimes ruin the mood."

He understood that his language was a bit more...primitive when considered against the other males traveling in your caravan, but who had you, bouncing on his lap, spreading a fiery trail down his back with your every touch? Not them. Who had the privilege of feeling your lips on his ear, gently sucking on the shell of it before taking it between your teeth?

Him.

"Golly, Y/N," He stuttered, squeezing you closer. "You do feel so good."

You groaned around his ear, hips stuttering for a second before picking up your pace once more. That only had to mean good things, right? You had to have enjoyed his talking more than you let on. That had to be the only reason.

"Makes me wanna give you some babies." He purred, trailing his hands up your sides. You burrowed your face further into his neck, shifting from steady bounces to grinding with him still buried deep inside you. "Would you like that? Me filling you up, making you such a perfect parent?"

His grip around your hips tightened, rocking you back and forth before shifting you to move up and down once again. What a beautiful idea that was. Filling you with his kids. You would make such a pretty house spouse!

He had spent far too long getting his heart broken by undesirable scum he foolishly thought could fill a hole in his heart. Too long listening to them spit out some pathetic excuse of "Their dog just suddenly died" or "I forgot to fold some dishes" only for them to disappear out of his life.

Phewee with that! He had no care for them these days anyway. Not when he had you! Effervescent you. Who he would never let go.

You were never leaving him now. He wouldn't let you! And you wouldn't be able to pull away from him. No. He was far stronger than you with the power glove, so he could easily out-do you physically. Any magic you could think to throw at him, he could easily turn right back around on you! And, while he portrayed a dimmer persona, he could see far beyond any silly plan you could come up with.

Might as well cut it all out before it has the chance to lay roots!

His hands moved your own hips faster, up and down, over and over again, all but dropping you back onto his lap before picking you up once more to repeat the process.

It was such a euphoric feeling, making his gut tighten as your clung onto him for dear life, pushing him to lay back on the bed as his hips took over the movements for him. "Golly- Gee, Y/N!"

Your groan barely resonated in his ears before he was stilling, cock buried as deep as he could go, and holding you in place.

"GOLLY-"

You shouldn't have been surprised when the arms around your back went slack, Koridai quickly falling asleep under you before he could even pull out.

Should've slept with Legend instead.

(Y'all are lucky I left out the "Koridai moans out his own name" bit Bailey and I came up with >:()

[strangersatellites]

pride, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

envy (noun) - a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck.

Logically, Steve knows it's not real.

He knows that. 

He knows Eddie loves him and that this is all work.

That doesn't make it any easier to watch supermodels hang all over his boyfriend. See lipstick stains pressed all over his neck, and jeweled hands dragging all over his body.

Eddie’s pretty, lazy smile doesn’t help either. 

Steve’s spent the better part of the morning sitting in a secluded corner of this studio and watching Eddie bark instructions at his manager and his bandmates and even the camera crew.

The video was going to be great, no doubt. The song was already amazing.

But couldn’t this shoot have been a little less…

He doesn’t know.

All he does know is that he would give anything to be in those girls’ place.

It’s not that he wants to be in the video. He doesn’t like that attention.

It’s not even that he wants to stake his claim over his boyfriend.

He just wants people to know. 

That Eddie’s taken. That he’s his.

But he can’t. And he knows that. Knows it’s not smart. That Steve’s got too much riding on his teaching career to be publicly linked to famed sex-symbol musician Eddie Munson.

It doesn’t make him want it any less.

Doesn’t make him not want those vinyl-covered legs around his waist. Ringed fingers tugging at his hair. 

But instead he sits. And he watches.

The ride home that night is tense. Steve feels it. He’s pretty sure their driver feels it if the lowered music and open window are anything to go by. 

No matter how hard he tries to shake it, the jealousy has dug its claws in deep. It's scratching at his chest and making him itch. Making him feel like he’s going to jump out of his skin.

But here Eddie is stretched across the seats and is smoking out the window without a care in the world. 

Cool it Steve. You’re being ridiculous.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will the feeling away. But with his eyes closed he sees hands. Lipstick. Smiles that are all teeth.

He throws his head back with a groan as the driver opens the door when they’re home.

Finally.

They’re hardly through the door when Steve’s got his hands on him. 

Got his hands shoved up over his head and his tongue in his mouth.

Eddie gasps against his lips, and there’s a question in the sound to which Steve responds “Mine.”

He feels Eddie’s hands shoving at his chest and he sees his eyebrows scrunch up in concern.

“Steve, what's wrong?” He asks and Steve hates that.

Hates that he’s worried about Steve and all he is is jealous.

He grabs both sides of Eddie’s face and thumbs at a bit of lipstick that’s still smudged against his cheek. Feels that jealousy flare up green and ugly once more.

He shakes his own head and furrows his brows when he whispers a quiet, shy, “Don’t like them touching you like that when I can’t.”

Eddie’s eyes soften and his own hands wrap around Steve’s wrist and he hums.

“Yeah, I know you don’t sweetheart,” he purrs, moving his arms up to wrap around Steve’s neck. “Got me all to yourself now though, hm?”

And maybe it's not right the way Eddie enables him. Maybe it's not healthy, maybe it's not good.

But it digs its claws in again and this time has Steve grabbing Eddie around the waist and hoisting him up and over his shoulder before stalking off toward their room.

He huffs a laugh through his nose and digs his fingers into the back of his thigh. “Sure do baby. And I’ve got nothing but time.”

*****

A few minutes later has Eddie naked and writhing against the sheets as Steve torments him.

He’s got a cold cloth to scrub at the marks left on Eddie’s skin followed by Steve’s teeth leaving a mark of his own. 

By the time Eddie’s chest is marred with bruises he’s got his head thrown back in the pillows and his breathing is ragged.

Steve crawls back up his body and captures his lips with his own. It's all force, all teeth, all love. 

He brings a hand up to tilt Eddie’s chin higher and he whines in return. Steve smirks down at him and tilts his head in question.

“Who’s are you, baby?”

Eddie gasps and grabs at Steve’s hips grinding down against his own.

“Yours, Stevie. Fuck, I’m yours baby.”

Steve kisses him once more, all chaste and sweet before he’s back up on his knees.

And if Eddie enables his jealous streak, Steve enables his love of being manhandled.

“Legs up, babe,” he says and Eddie has the nerve to blush.

But then Steve’s got his hands in the creases of his thighs and drags him up and over his own lap and Eddie groans from deep in his chest. 

Steve laughs. “Those pretty girls can’t do all this, huh?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but he’s smiling and he’s so, so pretty like this. Covered in Steve’s bruises and hard against his stomach. Skin soft and marked with ink where he’s stretched out all for Steve to take. 

Steve loses himself a little in the sounds and the feeling of opening him up on his fingers. Always goes a little cross-eyed watching how much Eddie lets himself feel.

But then he sees Eddie slide a hand down his own chest to wrap around his dick and Steve snaps back into reality in an instant. He bats Eddie’s hand out of the way and shushes his affronted scoff.

“Thought you were all mine, sweetheart. That means this is just for me,” he purrs on an upward tug and a deep slide in.

Eddie rolls his eyes but grabs at his shoulders and drags him forward.

“Then fucking come on then, or I’ll find somebody else to fuck me.”

And he knows it's not real.

He knows that.

But it flares up green anyway and he’s got his teeth sunk into Eddie’s neck and his own hips pressing into him. In the back of his mind he can hear the pleased hiss that Eddie doesn’t manage to hold back, but the forefront of his head is louder, saying “Mine, mine, mine.” He thinks maybe his mouth is too.

Once again he loses himself in the feeling. In the tight heat of Eddie’s body and the circle of his arms around his neck. In the words he can feel Eddie whispering in his ear but can’t decipher. In the knowledge that they can look and they can touch but they can’t take from Eddie Munson. Not like Steve can.

He drags himself back down in time with a whine from the back of Eddie’s throat and snakes a hand back to tug him off.

Eddie’s eyes are watery and they sparkle deep and dark when they blink up at him. He tangles his hands in Steve’s hair and he presses his nose up against Steve’s own.

“‘M all yours sweetheart,” He gasps in time with a deep grind of Steve’s hips. “I’m all yours and nobody’s gonna take that away.”

If Steve wasn’t on the cusp of an earth-shattering orgasm he might have something sweet to say. But as it is, he’s still a little wrapped up in the ugly green feeling of jealousy, and it has him tugging Eddie’s hips back sharp and hard with a near-growl of “Nobody gets this but me.”

He thinks Eddie says something back before he’s coming up his own chest but Steve can’t hear it over the rushing white noise of release. 

When his breathing slows back down and his head is no longer spinning with lips and teeth and hands Eddie drags a hand through his hair where he’s laid against his chest.

“Hey baby?” He asks.

Steve hums in response.

“Do you know why our shoot took so long today?”

His brows furrow in confusion and he props his chin up against his hand.

“What do you mean?”

Eddie smiles at him, pretty and lazy, and Steve’s favorite.

“Video shoots usually only take a few hours. We were there all day because I couldn’t get my head on straight. They had to retake that close-up shot nine times because I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

And that's just Eddie’s flattery at work. Steve rolls his eyes but he insists.

“I’m serious, Stevie! You think you can sit in on my shoot with girls climbing all over me looking soooo cool and soooo handsome in your ass jeans and my shirt and I’d be thinking about anything but you? Yeah fucking right, man.”

He feels his cheeks blush pink and he drops a kiss to Eddie’s collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Eddie’s smile is blinding and his dimple is deep. “I love you back, sweetheart. You’re all that’s ever on my mind.”

[words-after-midnight]

as a writer of very dark, ✨️Highly Cancellable✨️ fiction myself, i really don't think it's that difficult to understand that suggesting it might be advisable for writers to put actual thought into the ways in which they portray sensitive topics in fiction, and to do appropriate research where it's needed to make sure they're not writing shitty caricatures and/or perpetuating harmful stigma and stereotypes (eg. "people with X mental illness are violent monsters" or "domestic abuse is romantic" or "trans people are predators"), doesn't automatically equate to "supporting censorship" or wanting to burn "problematic" books at the stake, but I keep forgetting we're on the Allergic to Nuance website.

Reserving the right to criticize lazy or irresponsible portrayals of complex issues that affect real people =/= demanding that said materials not exist, trying to stop anyone from creating or engaging with them, or otherwise advocating for their censorship. Being opposed to censorship also means allowing readers to form their own opinions and engage critically with the media they're consuming, no?

[fanfictionroxs]

Can you imagine Laenor getting used to being around Harwin and how bewildering it must be? Because Laenor has grown up with a father like Corlys who is all about names and names and ambition and meaningless honour which he choses over his own son. But here is Harwin, a father who doesn't give a shit about names, whose honour is literally his sons and princess. And while he is commander of the city watch and Rhaenyra's sworn shield which are high positions for sure, everyone knows he could enjoy a far more comfortable and luxurious life back at Harrenhall as its heir. But here he is, ambition of being the future lord pushed aside in favour of being with his children. We just know he was going to be queensguard for the rest of his life when Nyra became queen and kingsguard when Jace became king if they had all lived. Here is a father who doesn't care that his sons call Laenor father, heck him and Laenor are friends! He only cares about protecting them all, uncaring of names and no insecurities. Jace, Luke, Joff could be called Targaryen, Strong, Velaryon, Rivers, Waters and it would make zero difference to Harwin (and Rhaenyra) who would protect and cherish his babies regardless and that.. that makes Laenor reel because it stands in complete opposition to the kind of father he has grown up with. And he wishes that Corlys had more of Harwin's honour, that his father could have valued Leanor's happiness as Harwin valued the happiness of their sons, that his father could have looked beyond his ambition and history books and just looked at him.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

(chuckles) Im so good at reading comprehension and my meat is huge

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

got so into my laughingstock feels that i burnt my fuckign toast

[autisticlancemcclain]

There’s an unfamiliar Blade staring at him. And yeah, that’s a pretty hard case to make with the masks and uniforms and everything. How do you know they’re unfamiliar? How do you know they’re staring at you?

Well, Keith knows they’re staring at him because they’re not even attempting to hide it and it’s been something like ten minutes, and they’re unfamiliar because — well. By Galran standards, they’re short as shit, and Keith makes a point of being familiar with every other short Blade on this base, because of Short King Solidarity.

Shut up. It’s important.

Point is that there is a random stranger staring at him for no reason in the barracks, and it is annoying. Finally, Keith decides that if they’re not going to say something, he is, so he holds his hands up in the universal ‘what the shit do you want, pal?’ position.

It works. The unfamiliar Blade beckons him forward. As soon as Keith gets close to them, they turn and start striding out of the room, and Keith has to jog to keep up (because even though they’re short, for a Galra, the have legs for days, Jesus).

They lead him around dozens of twisting hallways, speeding up whenever Keith gets close. It does not occur to Keith that they might be a murderer until about 10 minutes into their chase. But by then he’s put too much effort into the whole ordeal to just walk away, so he keeps one hand on his blade and mostly just hopes for the best.

They’re pretty lanky, anyway. Keith could probably take them.

Finally, the Blade stops in front of one of the small hangar doors, slapping their palm to the lockpad. This gives Keith just enough time to catch up, so he reaches out to stop them with a hand on the elbow.

“Dude, where are you taking me —”

The Blade makes a frantic cutting motion at their neck, clearly telling him to shut the fuck up. Keith raises his eyebrows.

Well, now. Colour him intrigued.

They duck into the hangar as soon as the doors open, leading him by the hand to a small pod. They key in the code to open the door, and attempt to tug Keith inside.

That’s when Keith decides enough is enough.

“Yeah, no, man. I’m not getting into a tiny pod with someone who’s been nothing but suspicious since I saw them. Sure, I was being a bit of a dumbass when I decided to follow you, but I think this is a great place to draw the line.”

The Blade makes a pleading face. Well, as pleading as they can be with their mask on.

Keith shakes his head, crossing his arms stubbornly.

The Blade sighs, hanging their head in resignation. They peek out of the pod, checking the area — for what? Other Blades? Cameras? Monsters? — and then take a deep breath, before pressing the button on their neck for deactivating their mask.

And, well. Keith can safely say this is not what he expected.

“Lan —”

“Will you shut the fuck up,” Lance hisses, grabbing Keith by the arm and yanking him in the pod, shutting the door behind him. Keith doesn’t put up a fight, too busy staring at Lance with his jaw dropped to the floor.

The longer Keith stares, the more nervous Lance gets. The previous annoyance vanishes from his expression, leaving him biting his lip with his brow furrowed.

“Please say something,” he begs.

Keith snaps his jaw shut. “Okay. I’ll start simple.” He clasps his hands together and presses them to his lips, inhaling sharply. “What the fresh, genuine, actual fuck are you doing here? In a Blade uniform? Acting suspicious as hell?”

“You know the security breach?” Lance blurts.

“Yeah,” Keith says slowly, trying to figure out how that has anything to do with this. “What about it?”

“I am the security breach.”

Once, when he was very young, Keith was fucking around in the desert and he came across what he was sure was a chicken egg, sitting randomly under a bush. Since he was literally eight years old, his brilliant idea had been to bring the chicken egg home, incubate it, and have his very own pet chicken. Since his Pa was not one to stop his brilliant ideas, this was allowed, so Keith nurtured that egg with all the concentration his tiny self could produce. Several months later, it hatched.

It was a snake.

The level of shocked bewilderment Keith felt then is about equivalent to what he’s feeling right now.

“I’m sorry. I think I just hallucinated. Try again?”

“I’m serious,” Lance insists. “I’m Akira Romanoff. I’m the security breach.”

Bizarrely, in between the panicked shouts of ‘oh my god I’m going to have to become the red paladin again because Voltron is going to be down a man after Lance is executed’ in his head, Keith has the thought that Lance looks exactly like Flynn Rider did when Rapunzel healed his hand — same freaked-out expression, down to the slightly puffed cheeks. He wonders vaguely if that’s a practiced expression.

“Okay,” Keith says slowly. “I have no idea how to respond to that. Please start from the beginning.”

“It was never meant to go this far,” Lance says instead, because he’s apparently incapable of following instructions. “I just meant to do small missions, you know? Tiny things. Unnoticed things. But then it spiralled and I panicked and —”

“Lance,” Keith interrupts, putting firm hands on the paladin’s shoulders. “Shut the fuck up and start from the actual beginning.”

“Those are very contradicting instructions,” Lance says faintly.

“Jesus H Christ,” Keith says.

“Okay!” Lance says. “Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Shiro’s been — weird.” He side eyes Keith as he says it, as if he’s afraid Keith’s going to get mad at him.

“Go on,” Keith says, and reassuringly as he can.

“Right. He’s been kind of horrible, actually. He gets a lot of mood swings, which I understand, but he sort of takes them out on me? And only me? Like, he screams at me, Keith. All the time. Proper screaming, too, in my face and everything. It’s pretty awful.”

Keith blinks. “Shiro? Yelling?”

“I know it’s hard to believe and it sounds like I’m lying but I’m not I promise I’m telling you the truth, and I know I deserve it and say stupid things sometimes but not everything I say is stupid but he yells at me anyway and I know I shouldn’t complain because I never had to go through what he went through but it is kind of unbearable and it also feels pretty targeted which sucks and I know he was never my biggest fan but it sucks knowing that he hates me now and I don’t know what I did and —”

“Breathe, Lance,” Keith says, squeezing his shoulders. “Holy shit.”

Lance takes a huge, gasping breath. Once the air has returned to his lungs, he looks back at Keith, brown eyes wide and imploring. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he insists again. “But — Shiro kept excluding me from missions. I just wanted to be useful again. And the Blade uniform is so easy to replicate, and I already knew all the passwords and stuff —”

“You infiltrated the Blade to do missions?”

Lance bites his lip. “Yeah. It’s — I like it. It’s kind of fun. And validating.”

Keith gets the validating part. There’s a deep sense of satisfaction that blooms in his chest every time he comes back from a successful mission, almost deep enough that it hides the loneliness. Blade missions definitely make you feel like you’re making a difference.

But fun?

“How the hell are you having fun?”

A leering smirk spreads across Lance’s face — finally, a familiar expression. Keith has seen that dumbass face right before Lance spills the cheesiest line ever to be uttered to some poor, unsuspecting attractive person, or right before he makes a ‘that’s what she said’ joke. God, Keith fucking hates that dumbass face.

He’s never been happier to see it.

“You wanna know why I chose Romanoff as my fake last name?” Lance asks, voice pitched low.

Keith would love to say no, just to throw him off his game. But he’s curious, unfortunately.

“Why?”

“Because I’m the Black Widow now, baby. I get my targets, I seduce ‘em, I handle ‘em, and I’m out before they see me. And that is fun.”

Keith flushes slightly, rolling his eyes and shoving Lance’s face away. “Okay, okay, Casanova. Cool it.”

Lance, unaffected, snickers. But quickly the mirth fades from his expression, and fades back into something worried, fearful.

“If the Blade thinks Voltron is spying on them it will crack the Coalition in half,” he says quietly. He chews his lip, staring at the floor. “I didn’t — I wasn’t thinking that far ahead, I guess. Or maybe I didn’t think I would get caught. I didn’t mean to do any big missions. I didn’t mean to be some big — thing.”

Keith swallows. “I know.”

He wonders whose side he would be expected to stand on, if it came to that. If the tentative trust between the Blades and Voltron cracked forever, if Voltron wasn’t the way he left it, if Shiro wasn’t there to call him home. He meets Lance’s eyes again and his dark eyes are watery, torn and guilty and sad. Keith’s heart lurches with his own guilt, and something heavy and fierce like longing, like I-missed-you and I’m-sorry-I-wasn’t-there all at once.

“I didn’t know who else to turn to,” he admits, softer. “I trust you. I’m sorry.”

He looks hunched and unsure of himself and he says I didn’t know who else to turn to I’m sorry and Keith hears There are five lions and six paladins, you do the math. And he knows he ran then and it fixed things but this time Lance is doing the running, this time Lance is the one who is looking between Voltron and other and doesn’t know what to do, and suddenly Keith’s choice is clear as day and the words come to him easily, without struggle.

“Alright, Sharpshooter,” he says, spine straight and voice firm. “Let’s go. Tell me the plan on the way out.”

Lance grins, wide and bright and beautiful, and the loneliness and fear evaporates in Keith’s chest.

———

part one