#I will never say that spiders name it is worthless

[bunnimy]

Ik mystreet completely stopped being a modern mcd au and became it's own thing by season 2, but we were so robbed of the mcd characters + lore that was never adapted. Elves? No way. Bigglesworth?? Replaced by some dumbass spider with a shit name. Curses, fantasy creatures (wyverns & etc), and magicks??? No uhh only potions and Killer Eyes Superior King Alpha Werewolf

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

Crazy in Love | Han Jisung

Saw a post awhile back saying that they wanted to see a Jisung/Joker smut. I wrote this months ago but wasn't sure how I felt about it so it's just been sitting in my drafts. I wouldn't really say there's a plot with this one.

Synopsis: You're bored and wanna play. Who cares if J.One is in a meeting for world domination? It's never stopped you before. He'll ruin your makeup and end lives just fine.

Pairings: Crime boss Jisung x Female Reader

Content Includes: smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, Dom Jisung...sort of?, slight degradation and name calling, brief mention of violence and guns, hair pulling, I'm sure I forgot something lol

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“Mista J!” you sing-song, skipping into the room wearing nothing but a red and black lace bra and leather shorts too short to be considered anything but underwear.

Jisung sits surrounded by his worthless minions at the head of the table. They all pretend you don't exist, of course. Not one eye looks in your direction; if they did… well, their brains would decorate these four walls. Like the king he is, Jisung sits on a throne of premium leather that you were handed when you walked into the store. Really, the fancy schmancy furniture store just gave you whatever you pointed at. Okay, fine, maybe it had something to do with the two double-barrel sawed-off shotguns you held, but that's beside the point.

There's nothing too good for your Jisungie. There's not a thing you wouldn't do for this man. You would die for him, you would kill for him, raise hell with him, making the city cower as king and queen. You love every moment of it. Straddling and looking pretty on Jisung's lap, you kiss him. It’s sweet on your end, but he takes it a step further, making it hot and messy, drawing porn-worthy moans from you.

"Mmm, Mista J.One… If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to fuck me on this table right in front of everyone," you tease, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He responds with a wicked, deadly grin that sends a rush of heat to your core.

"Lovely, I had to kill at least a dozen men after the last time. I can't risk that happening now, can I, pet?" he says, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes flick up to the center of the room where his men sit, the intensity of his gaze daring any of them to look in your direction.

The way he glares, daring anyone to even glance at you, thrills you to your core. The reckless and dangerous aura he exudes turns you on, knowing he's willing to burn the entire world down for you, taking down anyone who dares to look at you. You pout and wiggle your hips, a soft whine escaping your lips as you feel him, hard and ready, pressing against you.

“Let me play, baby,” you whisper, leaning into him and licking the heart-shaped spider web tattoo on his neck.

He groans and shivers, bucking his hips up, making you squeal with delight and lust as his zipper brushes against your cunt. The damned leather is getting in the way of feeling more than you want, but that's okay; your mind is set on something bigger and better. You wriggle again, and he growls, the sound reverberating deep within you. Any other person would be scared, but you eat it up, craving more.

“What are you waiting for, lovely? Get on your knees for me,” he demands, his voice soft and dark, like feathers on a raven.

You almost fly up from his lap with excitement, hurrying to kneel between his thighs, looking up at him through your long lashes. The thing about this throne that caught your eye was the little footrest it came with. It's your favorite spot. Some days you sit there just waiting for him to use you any way he pleases. Your excited, maniacal giggles echo throughout the room as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra. Your breasts bounce free from their confines, and you swing the garment around your head like a lasso, letting it fly free. You have no clue where it lands, but from the sounds of it, it seems to have landed on some poor guy's head.

Jisung smirks and cocks his head to the side, slowly looking in the direction of the unfortunate soul. "Oopsie," you whisper, reaching out to unwrap the present in front of you.

When Ji is satisfied that the man won't move, he looks down at you with his cock in your hands. You marvel at the size, as always, appreciating him, worshiping every inch of him. With loose fingers, you guide your hand up the length of his cock, feeling the heat radiate from the impressive muscle. Your mouth waters in anticipation and you smile up at him.

"Oh, Mista J, you're so hard for y/n." you purr, your mouth getting closer to the head of Jisung's cock.

The leather squeaks when he grips the arm of the chair, letting you take the lead... for now. You are his queen, after all—his beautiful nightmare. Damn it, if he didn’t have to go through with this fucking meeting, you would be bent over the table, drooling while he pounded his cock into every one of your fucking holes. Jisung is pissed, but only a little. These fuckers in the room better not dare look at you while his trigger finger is itchy.

With a wave of his hand, the meeting resumes, and you can hear the men shift uncomfortably, speaking about whatever plan for world domination Jisung's genius mind concocted. You ignore it all, too focused on watching the precum increase the more you play with Ji’s cock. So much more fun than any video game you were playing moments ago. You need him to make a mess of your makeup.

Every touch, every stroke sends a jolt of pleasure through both of you. Jisung’s eyes, dark and intense, flicker with a blend of rage and lust as he watches you. He’s a volcano on the verge of eruption, held back by the thinnest thread of control. Your breath shakes as you feel the weight of his cock in your hand, the slickness of his precum making each movement smoother, more urgent.

He exhales sharply, a barely audible groan escaping his lips. The power you hold over him in this moment is exhilarating, each pump of your hand drawing a reaction from him.

"Such a pretty cock you have, Ji," you whisper, blowing cool air over him. You watch with delight as he makes it bounce for you, the sight eliciting a soft, approving hum from your lips.

More crazed laughter from you rings out through the room, and Jisung loves it. He revels in the way you make the men in the room flinch. They're just dying to look at you, their fear mingling with desire.

"All the better to fuck your pretty mouth with, y/n, and that pretty cunt of yours," he replies, putting a crude emphasis on the word "cunt" and laughing loudly.

His laughter is just as insane as yours, but far more psychotic and unhinged. That's because he is certifiably insane. You would know; you're the one who diagnosed him. His psychosis, however, makes you feel safe. It's almost as if it connects you two in a way that psychology cannot explain. The two of you put on a show for the men in the room, mentally synchronized and wondering who will be the first to break. Knowing that cold steel is right underneath the chair, Jisung will make quick work of eliminating the weakest one.

When you flick your tongue out to lap up the liquid that now coats the tip of his cock, he shudders and leans his head back, licking his lips. The voices around the room waver, but they continue as if you aren't here. Good boys. Now it's time for Jisung to be a good boy for you and lose his mind. You gasp in delight and lick your lips, humming.

“Mmm, so tasty. Whaddya say, J One? Can I be greedy tonight?” Batting your lashes up at him, you grin.

His hand grabs the back of your neck tightly, but not uncomfortably, and he leans down, getting closer to your ear.

“Take it all and leave no drop behind, and you'll get a reward for being so good.” He slams his mouth onto yours in a crushing kiss, both physically and spiritually.

He leans back, fingers massaging your scalp, petting you while watching whatever presentation his men are rambling about. Your tongue gets to work, starting at the base, trailing up and over every ridge and vein along his cock. You lick every surface, coating him and savoring how his hands begin to become less caressing and more rough. The sound of voices fades into the background. All your focus is on Jisung and his cock now.

Heavy and warm against your tongue, you take him deeper and deeper, further than you've ever allowed yourself to go. He lets out a slow, deep groan and fists your hair when the head of his cock presses against the back of your throat, and you keep going. It's hard to focus on your breathing, to keep it steady and even, when he's making those sounds. You've never heard him sound as desperate as he does now. He doesn't care who hears him or sees him vulnerable like this though. Only an idiot would use this moment against him.

The feel of his fingers tightening in your hair, the taste of him on your tongue, the vibrations of his groans echoing through your body, it's better than any psychedelic drug in the world to you. You can feel the tension in his thigh muscles, the way his hips involuntarily twitch, seeking more of the pleasure you're giving him. Jisung's breaths become ragged, his control slipping with each movement of your tongue and each press of your lips.

“Shit, lovely. Fuck, mm.” he whispers, closing his eyes momentarily before opening them again to survey the room.

You know there's no way he's paying attention to anything but your lips wrapped around him, and you're right. Jisung couldn't care less if anyone was watching; he'd check the footage from the cameras later and deal with anyone who thought it was a good idea to watch you suck him off. For now, he loves how amazing you feel as you force his cock deeper down your throat. He doesn't mean to make the noises he does, but how could he hold them back when his queen loves hearing him be so vocal? He can feel your smirk, knowing that you have him wrapped around your finger.

Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, savoring the taste and the way his body tenses with each movement. Every moan and groan that escapes his lips fuels your determination to take him deeper, to push him further into ecstasy. His hands fist your hair more gripping it tightly, to steel himself against the overwhelming pleasure.

"That's my lovely baby. Ah—yeah, gonna fuck you till you can't stand later, y/n. Do you hear me?"

You hum in response, the vibration of your lips sending shivers through his body. He whines and growls, balling his free hand into a tight fist, so tight that his knuckles start to turn white.

"Fuck, babe… gah!" He stiffens his legs, forcing himself not to buck up and make you choke on his length. He wants to wait until you've taken him all the way down your throat for that. "Ke-keep going. Yeah, nice and s... s-slow," he continues in a husky, breathy whisper.

Once you have every inch of him in your mouth, he waits for you to pull up a couple of inches before forcing your head back down. You gag and cough as he repeats the motion again and again. Your eyes water, and tears stream down your face from the relentless thrusting of his cock hitting your throat. He's fucking your face now, using your mouth like a fleshlight, controlling you by your hair. And you're soaking through your panties, coating the leather shorts with your arousal.

“Fuck, mm! Y/n... wrap your lips tighter. Mhm, just like that, baby. That's a good girl.”

You want to rub your clit so badly, but you'll topple over backward if you let go of the hold you have on Jisung's thighs. So, you squeeze your legs together tightly, releasing over and over while Ji has his way with you. His pre-cum oozes down your throat, steadily leaking like a faucet. The friction you're creating feels so good you could cum just from that. Your moans vibrate more, sending him into a feral frenzy. He feels his balls tighten, and he gets louder, grunting each time he rams his cock down your throat.

Jisung filling your mouth completely so harsh and fast is overwhelming. You can taste the salty tang of his pre-cum mixing with your saliva, creating a slick, warmth that coats your tongue. Each thrust makes your pussy ache with need, the pressure in your core building feeling almost unbearable. The heat of his body, the firm grip on your hair, makes your head spin.

His thrusts become more erratic and his grunts turn into desperate moans. You can feel the pulse of his cock on your tongue, the way it twitches and hardens even more.

“Daddy's little monster sucks cock so good. Isn't that right, gentlemen?!” Jisung questions loudly. A few agree hesitantly, not knowing how to answer, and those few would be gone by morning.

Why? Because how would they know that you're good if they weren't watching your performance? Jisung is a smart man; most psychopaths are. With a smirk and a moan, he thrusts upwards while pushing your head down into his lap. Your makeup is a mess, just the way you wanted. Tear streaks run down your face, and you're satisfied with your appearance. You'll be even more satisfied when he cums and even more so when he fucks you later.

“Every. Drop. Y/n. Swallow every fucking drop I'm about to give you. You ready, baby? I'm so fucking close.” he grinds out, gritting his teeth and his grip on your hair tightens painfully making you wince.

His hips jerk as he forces you down, the rough fabric of his pants scratching your cheeks, adding to your ruined face. Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of his increasingly erratic thrusts. The sounds of his grunts and your muffled moans create a symphony of depravity echoing off the walls.

Jisung's mind is a funhouse of madness. If you were to open it up right now, the maniac's mind would be full of murder, mayhem, and you. It's a joke the way you make him feel—the best joke ever. How hilarious it is that a woman like you can make him weak, make him shiver all over, and become a moaning, whining mess. Your lips look so tantalizingly puffed out around him he almost wants to coat them with his cum, but he did say for you to swallow every drop, and he's a man of his word. He sees everything through, no matter how tempting it is. The humming you're doing on his cock is driving him madder than he already is. Oh god, do your lips feel so good to him. Jisung growls deep in his throat, a guttural sound that signals his impending climax.

“Take it, baby. Take it, y/n. Right. Fucking. Now. Oh, fuck!” His hands force your head down as he shoots rope after rope after rope of cum down your throat.

It hits the back of your throat forcefully and pools there until you relax, letting the warm, salty liquid easily go down. You swallow every drop he gives you, just like he told you to, the action drawing a final shuddering moan from him. Another growl and he's quickly pulling your head back and picking you up. You gasp for air as he spins you around and lays your stomach flat against the hard white surface of the table.

“GET OUT!” he yells, and every man in the room scatters. The one with your bra still on his head tosses it onto the table with shaky hands, sporting a very uncomfortable-looking hard-on. “Fuck if I'm waiting to fuck you.”

Your tight shorts are forced down roughly, and he rams his cock into your cunt, making you scream. He’s rough, really rough, and his thrusts are fast, creating a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain—mix the two, and you've got the base of you and Ji’s relationship.

“Harder, Jisung, ah! Fuck me harder, please.” you beg him, and he laughs maniacally again.

He smacks your ass before reaching around and grabbing you by the neck. The slapping sounds of your bodies coming together are so loud that they cover up your yelps of pain when he does as you asked. It hurts so good you become incoherent; you don't even hear Jisung when he says that this will be all you're good for. It's a joke, his best yet if he's honest with himself, which he won't be. He'll pretend that he keeps you around just to fuck but he knows Gotham only has one queen, and that's you. He just doesn't want to admit that the way your cunt holds him and pulls him in, is the reason for his insanity now.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum again, y/n.” his legs tremble with each long stroke inside you.

“C-cum, Jisung! Oh god, I'm there. Right… right…” Inhaling deeply, you let go, moaning loudly cumming on Jisung's cock and he follows you, filling your cunt.

“That’s my lovely—mmph! Filling your pussy to the brim. My sweet, deranged cum slut.” He pulls you back into him by your throat, finding your mouth and placing a possessive kiss on your lips. “Surrender your existence to me, y/n and let’s watch the world burn, darling.”

“Everything that I am, Mista J you already own. Let the ashes rain, baby!” You throw your head back with a crazed laugh and Jisung joins you, holding you tight in his arms.

✧ 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔏𝔦𝔰𝔱 ✧

@resi4skz @3rachasninja @moonlightndaydreams @rylea08 @hanjiphile @krayzieestay @oddracha @ldysmfrst

•If you want to be tagged in future posts let me know here•

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Imagine Aemond...

Imagine Aemond’s... Humiliation, when his own brother and cousins make fun of him by bringing him a pig with wings and taunt him into riding it, calling it ‘The Pink Dread’.

Imagine Aemond’s... Shock once you put on a cheerful face and jump on the pig, pretending it’s a dragon, and laughing so merrily. 

“Lo’ and behold, citizens of King’s Landing, for I, Y/N Targaryen, First of her name, and my trusty dragon, the Pink Dread, shall bathe this place with Fire and Blood!” you looked as if you were having so much fun, and whilst Aemond’s eyes were wide with absolute bewilderment, Luke jumped on the pig as well, joining the fun, while Jace was running by your side and Aegon was cursing and stomping out of there - Once again, you destroyed his attempts at mocking his younger brother. You will pay for it.

Imagine Aemond’s... Pink cheeks once you finish playing with the pig and you let the brown haired Velaryon boys play with it, and you go up to him and cup his face, smiling so sweetly at him, and he can only mutter a soft ‘Thank you’, though he hated how he had to rely so much on you, your strength and outright nerve to go against literally everyone, just to make sure he’s fine.

Imagine Aemond’s... Impatience, every time his mother tells him he will get his dragon, but literally everyone else BUT him has one... Well, you don’t have a dragon either, which sucks because even his sister Helaena has a dragon... And such a beautiful one... Just like her.

Imagine Aemond’s... Sheer fright as he tries to run after you and stop you from going to The Cannibal - Were you out of your mind?! Were you suicidal?! He kept yelling out your name, but as soon as you got in front of the dragon’s snout, you yelled out your orders proud and confident, like a true Targaryen, and with a cheeky grin on your face, you pat and kiss his snout before outright jumping on his back and riding him like a mad girl - Doing tumbles and spins and loops and playing around with the Dracarys-ordered fire... All that Aemond is close to crying and praying to all the Gods in Westeros that you return to him, safe and sound, because you’re his only best friend and he loves you so much and never wants to lose you.

Imagine Aemond’s... Absolute relief, once your dragon finally lands back on the land, and while everyone else around him is still flabbergast that a child was able to tame THE Cannibal himself, Aemond, as soon as you playfully jump on the ground and laugh cheerfully, still drunk with euphoria from how much fun you had -- He runs full speed your way and tackles you to the ground, holding you tightly and crying in your arms, cursing you for worrying him so much and almost leaving him all alone.

Imagine Aemond’s... Jealousy, once The Cannibal snarls at him in sheer envy and protectiveness, and he outright shouts back at the dragon saying you’re HIS lady! ... Only to then falter a bit once the dragon begins to get aggressive, and you have to calm down the both of them by kissing their noses.

Imagine Aemond’s... Torture, once each of his brothers and cousins start making fun of him for being so absolutely useless, unwanted, worthless - And that even some silly girls can get dragons, while he will be forever doomed with a Pink Dread.

Imagine Aemond’s... Rage, when he hears you shrieking out his name, and once he gets to you, he sees you trembling and sobbing while trying desperately to keep your composure - Because Aegon was threatening you by approaching one of Helaena’s super disgusting spider thingies close to your face, and whilst you didn’t want to hurt the poor girl’s creature since they were her only happiness... You were outright terrified and disgusted by them, to the point of almost fainting.

Imagine Aemond... Jumping on Aegon and slapping him, taking the spider from his hand and giving it back to his sister, before immediately going to hold you in his arms and rock you back and forth, trying desperately to sooth you back to sanity.

Imagine Aemond’s... Smugness once you convince him to ride with you on The Cannibal, and you taunt everyone for not having the coolest dragon in the world.

Imagine Aemond’s... Cockiness, once he gets the courage to claim Vhagar, thanks to your own braveness, and despite losing his eye, he will come over to you and propose having a Dance of Dragons up in the air, as you are definitely the perfect pair and not only have you always made the best dancing pair on the ground, but, without a doubt, you will synchronize up there as well.

Imagine Aemond... All grown up, an adult, proud and confident in himself, even with that sapphire eye of his, and no claim to the throne - As he loops his dragon around your own and the two of you share such a majestic and playful dance, that the whole Targaryen lineage would be envious of you.

Imagine Aemond’s... Absolute victory once he goes against the whole fucking King’s Landing and, in front of everyone, after a most wonderful Dance of Dragons, he lands on one knee before you and proposes - Making sure Aegon, Jace and Luke are there to witness and die in anger as their crush accepts marry the ‘Useless, worthless, ugly, one-eyes Aemond’.

Imagine Aemond... Making you the absolutely happiest and most treasured person in the world, because from the very beginning, you were the only one to always be there for him, encourage him and believe in him whole-heartedly.

Imagine Aemond... Just loving you so, so much that he has no idea how to express it in words, so he just smiles at you with that sweet, loving, kitten smile and he holds you tightly to his chest, every night, and tells you new ways of telling you how much he loves you to the moon and back.

----

Imagine Aemond... (Aemond is afraid My Lady will find him ugly) Imagine Aemond... (Aemond is frustrated with the court and My Lady spoils him) Imagine Aemond... (Aemond discovers you pampering Vhagar, the Matchmaker) Imagine Aemond... (My Lady is afraid of the concept of childbirth and pregnancy) Imagine Aemond... (Engaging in a romantic, literal Dance of Dragons in the air ) Imagine Daemon... (Being smitten over an adventurous Lady who flies Balerion)

[deatheatet]

I've seen a lot of "IF PAZ LIVED AU" and she always joins the Na'vi but here are my opinions for it (headcannons sort of)

Paz stayed behind because Quaritch lied about when they were leaving so she was with spider when they left (She was cussing him like a dog in Spanish,when he got back it was gonna be 10 times worse)

But he didn't come back instead standing with Parker and the science pukes with her son in her hip inside hells gate,here come's Jake Sully and his little native wife as well as others

She didn't know what was going on but she looked for Quaritch for 10 minutes before Parker walked over to her

"I-.... I'm sorry Paz" and handed her the Colonel's dog tags

Paz stared at the tags for a second or two before she tilted her head back and looked back at the tags her hand over her mouth crying, something she never did in front of anyone but Miles

Jake had watched with a curious look because he didn't know what her connection was to Quaritch

Paz laid with little spider cuddling to her chest holding on to her dog tags that night

Mo'at met Paz visiting Hells Gate with Jake one day and was horrified to learn that Jake intended to put spider in cryo when it could kill him to send him back to earth

She fought Jake, Neytiri,Arwkey,and others to let Paz stay because she had her daughter taken from her,she would NOT willingly put another mother through having to leave or lose her child,after Jake suggested sending Paz back only to send spider back when he was older

In the end Arwkey's mate,Inkeyni and her mate,and most elder's sided with Mo'at,Jake Sully could not force Paz Socorro and her son to leave Pandora

Paz later got a visit from Jake after he had discovered she was Quaritch's lover and Baby Mama

Paz after hearing one worthless, absolutely Pathetic, severely insincere apology from Jake told him to get the fuck out before she shot him

When Jake turned to leave she said this

"You wanna know my babies name Sully? It's Miles Sully. I named him after his daddy"

Jake was pissed and sure Paz had just named him that to get under his skin... It worked better than he wished

But after the war and Jake figures out Neytiri is pregnant.. he usually was found most nights at late hours getting drunk with Paz,the only other person who would understand his thoughts, even though they hated each other

Paz made sure her son knew everything his daddy did but wasn't one sided with it like the Na'vi who said he was a monster while Paz accurately said he did bad things for the right reason and spider agreed with Paz

Spider met Kiri and since he couldn't say it right called her "Kitty" for the first five years of knowing her

Paz loved Kiri because she was a sweetheart little girl who didn't shun her son for being a demon

Paz also will refer to Kiri as Miha or Mi Nina my daughter and my girl

Paz first met Lo'ak while he was trying to show Jake a picture of an Ikran he drew but Jake had gotten very annoyed with it and hissed at Lo'ak to leave him alone for 5 seconds while he did something

Paz had gotten very pissed at Jake but walked over and asked Lo'ak if he would show her his picture which he did and Paz asked if she could keep it because it was so pretty. Lo'ak happily said yes and was all smiles the rest of the day

But the harder Jake and Neytiri got on Lo'ak as he got older the more he drifted to Paz as an affectionate parental figure.

Accidentally called her Mama in English once after getting in trouble for fighting by Jake and Jake Jerking a knot in his tail (Not literally but you get the drift)

Paz was very upset as to why he freaked out so badly about an accident but told him if he wanted to call her Mama he could

He did so often and Kiri seeing the very clear favoritism her parents showed her and Neteyam and Tuk she drifted away some as well.

Kiri calls Paz Sanu(Mom/Mama) and calls Jake and Neytiri Sempul(Father) and Sanok(Mother)

Lo'ak calls them the same thing

Paz has a scrap book with pictures of her and spider,her and Lo'ak and her and Kiri. The kids made a full page for her birthday they planned themselves

Lo'ak wrote under a picture of him being hugged by her after getting his Ikran " Happy Birthday Mama❤️"

Kiri wrote under a picture of her hugging Paz's shoulders and leaning over her shoulder on the side "I love you Sanu" and "Happy Birthday Sanu" below it

And spider wrote under a picture of her hugging his shoulders from behind with her head on top of his "I love you Mami"

Paz also calls Lo'ak Miho and Mi nino like she does spider

Lo'ak and spider came back from the village one day after getting hit and not fighting back. Paz said this

" I don't give one flying fuck if Sully gets mad someone lays a hand on you or Kiri and Tuk you put them flat on their ass and make damn sure to hurt'em"

Argued and won against Jake afterwards

Mo'at and Paz became very close due to understanding each other very well

Paz and Kiri have weekly girl sleepovers and girl talks mostly about boys and men that are hot (Paz The men of the clan/Unmated) Kiri usually spider is her number 1(Paz knew about the crushes before they started) would talk about boys who had already passed the rites of passage (Ikeniyi's clan). She thought they were more attractive and mature than her clan.

Paz was the first person Kiri told when a boy from Ikeniyi's clan started courting her(Right after she got her Ikran) Paz threatened him within an inch of his life

Okay I think I've been at this for way to long now so any readers I apologize for making you read so much but vote please

Also feel free to suggest or request a one-shot from me

[pinejayy]

ꕥ Matchup Trade!! uwu

first time doing a matchup trade!! I hope you enjoy it!! 

@venntii I match you up with!!

★彡[ᴍᴜᴢᴀɴ ᴋɪʙᴜᴛꜱᴜᴊɪ]彡★

・❥・Lucky you!! You got the Demon King himself Muzan Kibustsuji. And despite being his lover he’ll still treat you with his same cold harsh attitude he has with everyone. But within time he’ll tone it down with his attitude towards you, but don’t expect him to be completely lovey dovey with you. But he does care about you, he just doesn’t know how to show his emotions around you, so you have to teach him these new kinds of feelings. Also when you mentioned how you are a perfectionist he loves it because he’s the same way too. And this means you guys think so much alike but also you guys can also bump heads with each other. Muzan is quite impressed of how well you can read someone or tell what they are thinking. It reminds him of his ability to read minds. The Demon King is highly impressed by how fit you are, he thought that all human were weak and couldn’t have impressive strength and speed. So he might consider on turning you into a Demon. Imagine how strong and fast you’re going to be as a Demon. He also loves seeing how competitive you can get, he can see the motivation in your eyes. And with your kind of motivation he sends you off to go find the Blue Spider Lilly since his Demons are all worthless to him. So consider yourself lucky, you caught the eye of The Demon King, so be nice and do what he tells you to. 

・❥・Muzan lacks in emotional love, so he’ll just buy you things and get you the most expensive things as well. He wants to get what’s best for you!! And only the best for you!! But you of course want someone who can love you, so if you want some hugs and kisses from him you’ll have to beg for it. But I can see him warming up to you as time passes on, and slowly but surely he’ll be all over. Dragging his cold tongue across your cheek. Giving you all the kisses you could ask for!! He never wants to lose you, no one is ever going to compare to you!! So Muzan is always going to protect you, and that’s either him being by your side or sending Kokushibo with you, since he’s the only Upper Moon he really trust. So you have a hot bodyguard. Also Muzan tries to control his strength when around you because oof, he doesn’t want to hurt you!!

・❥・Headcanons!!

Muzan is definitely a sugar daddy!! And he treats you so well, and the Upper Moons don’t quite understand why he treats you better than them?? You’re a weak human!! So they get jealous of course. 

If a Demon dare lays a finger on you he’ll torture them. And it’s going to be slow and painful. And heck!! If one of the Upper Moons look at you wrong or say something to upset you he’ll kill them, he doesn’t care. He can replace them. 

Slow walks around the woods, him holding your hand. Whispering sweet things to you. Like “I love you so much darling, I’m so glad that you belong with me and me only.”

He loves patting your head and loves using pet names. Such as. “Love.” “Darling.” and “Mine.” 

He gets very possessive over you. Like to the point where he wants to lock you up in his room, but he won’t do that...yet.

[burning-fcols]

✩ 「 @bliitzo 」 ✩ - Continued from ★

「 ☆ 」 Blitz can deny his feelings for Stolas as much as he wants… but Angel can recognize jealousy when he sees it. The object of envy throughout Hell, he can’t go a single day without someone trying to slit his throat with their eyes. If looks could kill, his soul would have been damned to Double Hell and ALL the others that come after long ago. But there’s extra vitriol in the way Blitz glares at him. A possessiveness the Imp might not even be fully aware of. Angel would know, because the arachnid doesn’t doubt he’s looking back with just as much Hellfire.

Furious at the Imp for making him feel this nauseating cocktail of emotions. Inferiority to someone like HIM— some big-mouthed, big-dicked nobody who’s too emotionally-stunted to even admit he gives a damn about Stolas —terror at being tossed aside, some shrapnel of anger even flying in Stolas’s direction ( secret as it may be ) for unwittingly making Angel feel like he’s not enough. Like no matter what he does or who he tries to be, he’ll NEVER be enough for anyone. Part of Angel wants to blow Blitz’s brains out right now and put an end to it all. But he knows it genuinely will be an end to it ALL. There’s no way Stolas would want anything more to do with him, if the owl even let him live, if he killed his precious Blitzy.

Maybe that’s why this feels so… satisfying. In a fucked up, confusing, Angel-doesn’t-want-to-question-it-too-deeply kind of way. Mixed amongst the usual utter disgust for himself is an overwhelming ego-boost at having Blitz’s dick buried so deep into his guts he’s surprised it’s not tickling the back of his throat. At knowing they brazenly can’t stand each other, yet his velvety insides are surrounding the Imp in an unfair amount of pleasure. Not that Angel can’t say he isn’t also seeing stars. Blitz must fucking HATE it; having a first-hand seat to what Stolas has been indulging in when not fawning over some worthless Imp. Understanding how easy it would be to get addicted to Angel’s body.

A dual-edged blade, Angel is also cut by knowing what Stolas is surrendering to when the spider can’t be around… Feeling that understanding slice through his very core like Blitz’s claws in his skin, teeth grit as he chokes back a gasp. Smothering it with an aggravated growl, bottom lip bleeds as razor teeth sink in to keep his wanton sounds at bay. But it’s a losing battle, Angel holding out impressively considering the throttling of his insides… until a well-aimed thrust, sporadically hitting a sensitive bundle of nerves like a battering ram, tears a sharp cry from the star’s throat. Claws rake down Blitz’s back, leaving thin trails of black in their wake, as Angel’s resolve starts to crack. Not completely shattered, he manages to keep the Imp’s name off his tongue.

Screams of semi-reluctant pleasure, however? The air soon echoes with moans so primal they belong in the Porn Studio. Fluffy chest heaving into Blitz’s harsh hands, Angel cries out wordless praise. Headboard banging against the wall with a vengeance, even the terrified creaking of the bed can’t compete with the spider’s sultry screams. Walls are mercilessly tight around Blitz’s thick length, sucking in the Imp with each welcome thrust. Angel’s hot insides milking the cock for everything it’s worth like a vice.

❝ FUCK! ❞ When words finally come, they are crass and breathless. ❝ Th-That’s right… Fuck me— Fuck me hard, you obnoxious bitch! ❞ Antagonizing the Imp, legs wrap around Blitz’s waist, angling the others hips to aim even DEEPER into his prized ass. ❝ Put that big fuckin’ cock t’ work! Show me why Stolas wastes his time with a piece'a shit like you! ❞ Growling, claws sink deeper into Blitz’s back, Angel glaring at him with such intensity that his eyes are practically glowing, ❝ I’m not th’ only one who’s gonna be cummin’ all night… I can already feel it, y’know. How much you wanna flood my fuckin’ ass. ❞ With how viciously they’re going at it, Angel doesn’t doubt they’ll both be covered with each others seed once they’ve finally fucked themselves into exhaustion. 「 ☆ 」

[rphelperblog]

City of Lost Souls Book Quote RP Meme

a part of the TMI series by Cassandra Clare- Feel free to edit the quotes or change pronouns

"He'd burn the whole world down till he could dig you out of the ashes. I know,"

“You can't raise a child to believe the opposite of what you do.” 

"It's my special magical power. I can read your mind when you're thinking dirty thoughts."

“You have ruthlessness in your bones and ice in your heart. Don't tell me any differently.” 

“Pain made you strong. Loss made you powerful.” 

“Doubtless the lunatic asylums of the world are filled with unfortunate women who have failed to see my charms.” 

“From what I experienced from vampires, you mostly suck. No pun intended.” 

“All I know is that I love you. And for the first time, that's good enough.” 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you smell like him.”

"Cracked...my...nail polish slapping your... worthless face. See?

“Blood isn’t love,”

"Have you been watching The Bodyguard? Because I am not going to fall in love with you and carry you around in my burly arms.” 

“You are the central point about which his world spins.” 

“Is this some manly bonding thing I can't be a part of? Are you getting matching haircuts?” 

“To destroy the enemy it can be necessary to understand him.” 

“And spare me the jokes about scoring."

"Dammit, woman, you read my mind,Is there no filthy wordplay you can't forsee?"

"Your plans are suicidal. At best.” 

"It means I love you. Not that that changes anything.” 

“That never matters when you blame yourself.”

“Watching me play Scrabble is enough to make most women swoon. Imagine if I actually put in some effort.” 

“Tell me,who it was. That my father had the affair with.” 

“What am I doing with you, you boat-stealing lunatic?” 

“If I kiss you all day every day for the rest of my life, it won’t be enough.” 

“As far as I’m concerned, this is the worst thing that’s happened since I found out why he was banned from Peru.” 

“My heart is your heart, My hands are your hands.”

"I can take the sight of your naked chest without swooning."

"Because viewing my naked chest has caused many women to seriously injure themselves stampeding to get to me.” 

“She realized that this scarred, sarcastic boy, was gentle with the things he loved.” 

“I wanted you anyway. I always wanted you.” 

"As the person being objectified, I ... object to that description of me.” 

'I think of myself as a freewheeling bisexual,'

“You may have the worst timing since Napoleon decided the dead of winter was the right moment to invade Russia.” 

"A date, Often 'a boring thing you have to memorize in history class,' but in this case, 'an offering of an evening of blisteringly white-hot romance with yours truly."

“Nerd love. It is a beautiful thing, while also being an object of mockery and hilarity for those of us who are more sophisticated.” 

“I’m pretty sure irony isn’t a deadly sin.”

“Now that I'm in your mind, want to see some naked mental pictures of him?” 

Too much darkness could kill, but too much light could blind.” 

"Too soon to joke about the happy memory thing, I take it,"

“Not to mention, that he killed him. That would put anyone off.” 

"Raging bitch, then?"

'All the boys are gay. In this truck, anyway. Well, not you,”

"It's 'Descensus Averno facilis est.' 'The descent into hell is easy,"

"I hate ducks. Don't know why. I just always have.” 

“Missing, one stunningly attractive teenage boy. Answers to '[muse name]' or 'Hot Stuff” 

'I hope you told him you were bitten by a gay spider,'

'Please never say those words in front of my parents,' 

“I will have you know I practiced that speech. In front of a mirror before you got here."

“I really wish you hadn't worn that sweater,'

"All I did was tell you the entire plot of Star Wars."

"but I know I look damn good delivering it.” 

"As far as I know, inanimate objects can accidentally kill you. So if you were planning on teaching yourself the lambada on a greased platform over a pit full of knives, I wouldn't."

“I’d die for you. You know that. But would I kill someone else, someone innocent? What about a lot of innocent lives? What about the whole world? Is it really love to tell someone that if it came down to picking between them and every other life on the planet, you’d pick them? Is that—I don’t know, is that a moral sort of love at all?” 

“I stabbed you. With a massive sword. You caught on fire."

"Definitely. He wants me to wear midriff-baring shirts and a fedora. I'm fighting it."

“I fell in love with you, because you were one of the bravest people I've ever known. So how could I ask you to stop being brave just because I loved you?” 

“I don't care what you do. As long as you know you belong to me.” 

“I know you worry about me needing you, but I shouldn't be with you because I need you. I should be with you because I love you.” 

“How could you be heartbroken and happy at the same time?” 

“Speaking of hope, did you see that shot he got off with his bow? That's my boyfriend.” 

"You don't like 'hotstuff'? You think 'sweet cheeks' might be better?

"Love crumpet'? Really? That last one's stretching it a bit. Though, technically my family is British-” 

"I see nothing wrong with 'maybe', A little modern, but the gist of the idea comes across.” 

"I think it means you crushed my spirit and beat me down. Fantastic.” 

"It's okay with me if it's okay with you."

 "Okay, so maybe our problems aren't like other couples.” 

“Otherwise, I get the feeling we’d all just lie around all the time wondering what the hell to do next. Or trying to raise the money to hire him by selling lemonade or something.”

“It was strange how your world could shift on its axis and everything you trusted could invert itself in what seemed like no time at all.” 

“Scrawny little mundane bastard.” 

"Most brother's would be delighted to see such a clean-cut gentleman as myself squiring their sister's about town.” 

"But I didn't realize you were absolutely, spectactularly out of your goddamned mind.” 

"Well, kissing, probably. But as for the rest of it..."

“But in his heart, he’s not like me. But you are.” 

You don't have to treat everything like it's a last stand.” 

“He could bring a six-foot tall pink rabbit in a bikini back home with him if he wanted to. It’s not my business. But if you’re asking me if I’ve brought any girls back here, the answer is no. I don’t want anybody but you.” 

“Anyway that other thing we almost did in Paris-that's probably off the table for a while.Unless you want that whole baby-I'm-on-fire-when-we kiss thing to become freakishly literal”

“You can’t just call the Praetor. It’s not like 1-800-WEREWOLF.” 

“No, you don’t need to help me. But if you don’t, there’s nothing stopping me from calling you up again and again, now that I know you can’t kill me. Think of it as me leaning against your Heavenly doorbell… forever.” 

“For as is often the happenstance with that which is precious and lost, when you find him again, he may well not be quite as you left him.” 

“In some ways, we've been through something no one else can ever understand but the two of us... And it made me realize. We are always and absolutely better together.” 

[readatrix]

"It said that I'd be safe."

(Note I listened to the audiobook. This is the second book in a month I've heard narrated by Nicky Endres, and they're just on that at the top of my narrators list. In the first book, I wondered if they were French, and this time they were convincingly English. Each character comes across as unique and distinct.)

Alice and Ila are best friends and occasional lovers. They enter an abandoned house with their friend, Heather. Alice and Ila leave, physically and emotionally scarred, enemies, afraid of one another.

Heather never leaves.

Before I continue, I can't stress enough this book is dark, hard to read, and bound to be triggering for a lot of people. I know I have to be in the right mental and emotional space to handle certain topics, and I know reading the wrong book at the wrong time can be profoundly dangerous. This book deals with bigotry of all kinds, particularly transphobia, homophobia, racism, misogyny, and the rise of antisemitism. There's a lot of talk of dysphoria. The characters have turned a lot of the hatred inward. Did I mention body horror?

The house in question thinks of itself as Albion, an older name for England. I don't think the metaphor is meant to be at all subtle -- this house holds and amplifies hate. It's only welcoming in the way a spider welcomes a fly to its web.

I'm from the United States and yet so much of the sense of rising dread and the anxiety of not trusting your neighbors to be decent humans is familiar. I think my country and Albion are toxically codependent, in many ways mirroring one another.

Alison Rumfitt seems to hold nothing back, never shying away from taking the story to uncomfortable places. It felt brave to write about the rise of hate, but it's twice as brave to make your protagonists from marginalized groups horrible and hate-filled too. No one, other than the house, seems to hate them more than they hate themselves.

Relatable.

I'm not going to delve into much more. I loved the Tell Me I'm Worthless, I also had to take a lot of breaks from it. I felt the author understood my rising panic and anxiety, my confusion as to what's going on. (I'm starting to see antisemitic posts in discussions where I didn't think you could shoehorn it in if you tried.) I'm so happy I read it, and want to read more from this author, but I'm also really glad it's over.

None of this to say there's not also a sharp sense of humor and satire at play.

Recommended for people in the mental place to handle a dark story. Politically (to the left) aware people and those from marginalized groups. Those always online. People who like the subgenre of haunted house stories where the house isn't as much haunted as itself evil -- the lines of architecture or the ground its built on his soured it. (The book pays homage to those stories, particularly The Haunting of Hill House.)

Not recommended for people in a vulnerable state, particularly those from the groups harmed or degraded in this story. I don't think conservatives would have a good time, unless it was for messed up reasons. People with a strong gag reflex.

I will be recommending this book A LOT.

*****

[lokust]

A God doesn’t Giggle

LMAO HEY I’M BACK.

I was rather inactive for a few days because I had a violent allergic reaction to 75mgs of a new medication, but I’m better now!

(Also, I don’t ever post any stories, but I wrote this one knowing I was gonna post it so I was rather nervous. My apologies if it seems forced or too short. I felt the pressure with this one.)

————————-

The question Mobius often asked himself was ‘How does one deal with the God of Mischief?’.

But the question he had asked himself earlier was ‘Oh shit, how do I deal with the God of Mischief when I’ve made him so genuinely upset that he won’t even cause any mischief?’.

Loki was incredibly upset, with Mobius specifically. For once in his life, Loki was genuine, he was honest… and Mobius brushed him off, accusing him of lying and throwing him in a loop where he was reminded over and over again that he was worthless and undeserving of love.

Mobius had done everything he could think of to cheer Loki up; from telling him the exact opposite of what Sif had told him to searching through his fondest memories and putting him in each and every happy memory he could simulate. None of it was enough, and Loki was still hurt.

“Come on, Mobius”, he said to himself, still searching through Loki’s memories and flipping through all of his files, “If you had just listened to him for once…”. He had left Loki in a simulation of a memory where Frigga had taught him his favorite spells and tricks, hoping it would be enough to at least get a smile from the God.

He had been watching the best memories of Loki’s life for what felt like hours, but he was willing to watch for 48 hours more if it meant finding a solution to the pain he’d caused. He clicked and forwarded through some memory Loki had with Thor back on Asgard.

He had almost disregarded it entirely, but something about the tone in Loki’s voice caught his attention. It was a nervous tone, yet somehow… playful? Mobius couldn’t quite describe.

“Thor… Thor, get away from me. Okay. I am much too old for these antics now”.

Mobius watched intently, observing the interaction between the two as closely as he could manage.

“Oh come on, little brother! It’s never failed to get you out of these moods before!”

Yes. Yes, this is what Mobius needed. This was the solution.

Suddenly a shrill screech filled the small room as Thor had seemingly attacked his brother.

Mobius sighed in disappointment, “Well, that blows. I can’t wrestle him back to happiness”.

He got ready to start searching again, until the loud laughter of two Gods filled the room instead.

Mobius watched as Loki writhed in his brother’s arms, laughing unwillingly as he tried to escape the hands that clawed at his sides and ribs while Thor simply laughed at the sounds he was producing from his brother.

Mobius’s eyes lit up, finally shutting it down and turning to walk out of the room, “Damn it, Thor, you’re a genius”.

—

——

Loki sat on his bed beside his mother, sulking as he listened to her explain her magic to him.

The fireworks. She was teaching him how to make the fireworks, just in the palm of his hand. It was his favorite trick to do, and his favorite one to watch her do as well.

He’d been there with her for hours, relearning all of her favorite spells, but he couldn’t stop the thought in the back of his mind, reminding him she’d be gone and he’d be indirectly at fault.

He wanted to cry, and he could have, but suddenly, she was gone, and a golden doorway opened up to the left of him as Mobius stepped into the memory.

“Alright, Loki, I’ve got two things to say to you”.

Loki rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Grand, but I’ve got nothing to say to you, Mobius. Couldn’t you have just left me here with my mother?”. The trickster crossed his arms against his chest, looking away from Mobius with a scowl.

The blond just sighed, “Alright, I deserve that, I really do, but just hear me out, alright?”, he said, approaching the taller man carefully.

“I’m sorry, Loki. Alright? I am truly, horribly sorry. I should’ve believed you. I should’ve listened to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have thrown you back in that loop with Lady Sif. You didn’t deserve that, and I, Mobius M. Mobius, am sorry”, he spoke genuinely, carefully placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder as he sat beside him.

Loki furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at Mobius from the corner of his eye, “I thought you had two things to say- Wait a moment… Mobius M. Mobius? Is your name Mobius Mobius Mobius?”

The agent sighed, “That’s not the point, and I do have one other thing to say, alright?”

Loki gave a simple nod, a silent signal to continue, but he didn’t like the smile that was slowly growing on Mobius’s face.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish”.

Loki’s eyes widened as he pulled away from Mobius, standing up and crossing the room immediately, “I… I’m not. That’s ridiculous. I never have been”.

Mobius just smiled, “Wrong”.

The God grumbled at the agent, “Alright fine. I grew out of it”.

The shorter man looked like he was having a field day, “Wrong again”, he said, standing up to approach his friend.

Loki scowled at him, “Mobius, this collar may keep me from using my powers, but it won’t keep me from biting all of your fingers off if you get any closer to me”.

The agent hissed as he looked down at his hand, “Ouch, that one really does sound painful, but how about this, alright? You stop sulking around like an angry little dog, and maybe I won’t tickle you, deal?”

The God backed away as Mobius came closer and closer to him, but suddenly he found himself backed into a wall with Mobius so close he was practically pinned in place. He huffed at his blond friend, but simply stayed silent.

Mobius shrugged, “Alright, fine… but you asked for this”.

Suddenly, Mobius had Loki’s arms pinned above his head, the taller of the two struggling in place as Mobius fought to get both of his wrists in one hand.

“Why are you fighting it so hard? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish?”, he gasped suddenly as if he was shocked, “Did you… Did you lie to me, Loki? I can’t believe you’d do such a thing”.

Oh, if looks could kill, Mobius would’ve certainly been a goner, but the faint blush on Loki’s face certainly overpowered any threat behind the scowl.

Loki’s breath hitched as he eyed the hand that now rested on his side, but he looked back at Mobius immediately, unwilling to show any sign of anticipation or nervousness. The agent was looking at him as intently as possible, his mind set on finding even a hint of happiness in Loki’s expression.

“Alright, I’m tired of you sulking around like this, and even more so, I’m tired of seeing you in pain because of my mistakes”, suddenly, Mobius’s hand came to life at Loki’s side, clawing and scratching up and down to really test the God’s sensitivity.

Loki threw his head back against the wall,

“G-Goddamnit Mobius! Quihihit ihihihit!”, he bit his lip through his laughter in hopes to suppress it, but Mobius moved his hand up higher, spidering now at Loki’s ribs. That action produced something that was definitely not a squeal, thank you very much.

“You suhuhuhuck! Lehehet me gohohohoho!”, he spat, thrashing side to side as he tried to get away from his friend, but his mind was too boggled and he was split between fighting against it and just letting it happen.

Not that he enjoyed it or that he was having fun, no definitely not. That’s ridiculous.

It had just… been so long since he was able to laugh like that. Yeah. That’s all.

He was ashamed to admit the noises coming from him most definitely qualified as giggles, so he wouldn’t be admitting it, but that’s most certainly what they were.

“Aw, cute. That’s something I didn’t expect to hear from a God, but giggles are cute so who am I to judge?”, Mobius teased, alternating between spidering at Loki’s sides and digging into his ribs while the trickster tried to sink to the floor with no luck.

His eyes widened at Mobius’s words, “I- I do nohohot gihihiggle, you ahahass! Now stahahahap!”

Mobius just hummed, “Mmm… No, I don’t think I will. You very obviously lied about not being ticklish, but you look pretty happy right now, so I’ll keep this up for a while”.

Gods don’t whine, except for when they do, and that’s exactly what Loki did as Mobius’s skittering fingertips slipped to the back of his rib cage.

Loki squealed and suddenly tugged at his arms as hard as he could manage, shocking Mobius enough to slip away from him, but when he started to run, he realized there wasn’t much of anywhere to go.

Mobius knew Loki had nowhere to go, so he stayed in place, watching Loki search frantically for a place to run or hide before he gave in and rolled onto his bed, moving to sit on his knees and eye Mobius warily.

“Oh look at you”, Mobius said, approaching the God slowly, “You really got nowhere to go now”.

Loki put his hands up in front of himself as Mobius came closer and closer, “Now- Now, hang on, Mobius. Wait just a moment, can’t we talk about this like adults?”

Mobius hummed in thought, sitting himself on the edge of the mattress, “I don’t really think it’s necessary. The whole point is to get you smiling again, so what’s the point of talking?”

Loki racked his brain for any argument he could make and came up mostly blank, “Can’t you tell a joke or something?”

Mobius shook his head, “No fun in that, but this”, he said, suddenly tackling Loki into the mattress, just to pin him down and straddle his hips, “this is fun, wouldn’t you agree?”.

Loki shook his head frantically, tugging at his arms as they were pinned beneath Mobius’s knees.

Mobius unbuttoned the few bottom buttons of Loki’s white shirt, slipping his hands underneath the fabric and causing the God to nearly scream through his gritted teeth.

“MOBIUS- MOBIUS NO! Get out!”.

Mobius was taken aback for a moment but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the dramatic reaction, “Worse on the bare skin, huh?”, he chuckled, drumming his fingers against Loki’s hips.

Loki held his breath as he threw his head back against his mattress, grumbling empty threats through his teeth and kicking out behind Mobius.

“I was doing this mainly to cheer you up, but this is entertaining”, he teased, tracing his fingertips up to Loki’s sides to spider and scratch at them as gently as he could manage.

Loki squealed as he drummed his feet on the mattress and tugged at his hands, “Mohohobius nohoho! Nohohoho quit ihihihit! You’re ahahahawful!”, he spat insults at his friend as he thrashed and squirmed beneath him, the ticklish sensation teasing his nerves maddeningly.

Mobius just smiled before clawing his way to Loki’s ribs, scratching in and out and side to side before spidering and thumbing between the bones, attempting to decide which got the best reaction.

“NO! Nonono, not thahahahat!”, the trickster’s laughter got higher in pitch and increased drastically in volume with the tickling in the spaces between his ribs, and Mobius noticed the tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

He didn’t want to kill Loki, so he went back to the scratching, “You didn’t just lie about being a little sensitive. You, my friend, are desperately fucking ticklish”.

Loki shook his head, but he was struggling to form words. The longer Mobius tickled, the worse it felt, “Stahahahahap, I cahahahan’t! I can’t, Mohohohobius. MOHOHOHOBIUS NOHOHOHO!”

Mobius stopped suddenly when his hands touched the center of Loki’s abdomen, watching the God do everything he could to sit up and get away from his captor, but he just couldn’t do it.

“Ohoh, bad spot, huh?”, Mobius teased, using his fingers to trace teasingly around the bare skin of Loki’s stomach.

“Mobius, please, don’t do this to me. Let me go, and I promise I won’t be upset anymore, okay? Just please… don’t”, Loki was ashamed of himself and his over dramatic reactions, but if there was one thing he couldn’t handle, it was being tickled there.

Mobius cooed sympathetically, “Aww, too ticklish?”, he asked as if he was considering letting Loki go, “Man… that sucks doesn’t it?”

Loki’s eyes widened and he went to protest, but he didn’t have a chance as Mobius’s fingertips skittered mercilessly around his belly.

He squealed and screamed and tried to buck Mobius off of him, but he was stuck, “PLEHEHEHEHEASE STOHOHOHOHOP! STOP IHIHIHIT!”

Mobius smiled down at him, using all ten of his fingers to vibrate his hands in the very center of the God’s abdomen.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO, SHIHIHIHIHIT! MOBIUHUHUS!”, he drummed his feet against the mattress, looking down at Mobius’s hands as his tormentor stopped for just a moment.

“I got a question”, Mobius said, using just one finger to trace around the tense muscles of his friend’s abdomen, circling dangerously close to the little divot in the center of his stomach.

Loki looked back and forth from Mobius’s hand to the smug grin on his face as he tried to collect himself and rid himself of any residual giggles, “Then ask it”.

Mobius hummed, “I’m getting there”, he remarked, “How ticklish do you think you are riiight… here”, he asked, teasing and circling the rim of Loki’s bellybutton.

Loki squirmed and whined pitifully as anticipatory giggles poured from his lips, “Dohohon’t. Don’t do thahahahat. Please, plehehehease”,

With his free hand, Mobius tickled up and down Loki’s side, pinching at the fleshy area, “Aww, I like that you said please”, he teased as Loki tried to roll to one side to protect the one that Mobius was tickling, “But… Im gonna do it anyway”.

Mobius dipped his finger in his ticklish friend’s bellybutton, wiggling at the base and walls of the little divot while he tickled around his belly and sides with his other hand.

“NO- NOHOHOHOHO! I CAN’T TAHAHAKE IT!”, he squirmed and kicked as Mobius tickled him mercilessly, one hand scratching relentlessly at the spaces between his ribs before he finally had some mercy on him and started tickling around his belly again instead of in his bellybutton.

Loki snorted, but he was too weak to fight and too lost to be embarrassed about it. His nerve endings felt like they were on fire and it was the only thing he could think about as those pesky tears finally fell.

Mobius had mercy on him, ceasing his tickling and allowing Loki to calm down, “Alright, let me try one more thing, and I’ll quit, okay?”, he asked gently, a fond smile playing at his lips as the trickster tried to hide his red face in his shoulder.

“Just do it”, he breathed out heavily, trying to prepare himself for whatever Mobius was going to do.

Slowly and carefully, Mobius moved his knees off of Loki’s hands to reposition himself and sit lower on his his friend’s thighs. He unbuttoned just a few more buttons on Loki’s shirt and pushed it up as high as he could manage.

Carefully, Mobius laced his fingers with Loki’s to hold his hands in place. The God panted in an attempt to gather himself when he tensed his muscles once more, recognizing Mobius’s actions immediately as the blond leaned down so his face was just above Loki’s abdomen.

Loki shook his head, “Oh for fuck’s sake, Mobius, why?”

Mobius just shrugged, “I just wanna know how you’ll react”.

Loki didn’t even try to deny it, “Visciously”.

Mobius hummed, “Alright, then I’ll just hold you tighter”, he said teasingly, suddenly taking a deep breath.

Loki braced himself, shaking already as a nervous smile played at his lips.

Mobius put his lips right over his friend’s bellybutton and blew as hard as he could.

Loki squealed and snorted and squirmed as the first raspberry rippled across his abdomen torturously before Mobius blew one after the other all over his tummy,

“NOHOHOHOHO! NONONOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEASE! Plehehease, please, Mobius- NOHOHOHOHOHO!”, the small breaks he got in between each raspberry were just long enough to drive him crazy while Mobius breathed in to blow another.

The agent lifted his head once more, breathing in as deeply as possible before blowing the longest, most ticklish raspberry he could manage right over Loki’s bellybutton. He couldn’t take it anymore, his brain was fuzzy and his lungs were burning, “MERCY! MEHEHERCY!”

Mobius stopped immediately, sitting up and letting Loki breathe, “Alright, calm down. I’m done now”, he soothed , moving off of his legs to allow Loki to curl up on his side and wrap his arms around himself.

Loki’s body shook with leftover giggles as he tried to rub away the ghost tickles around his abdomen and wipe away the tears on his cheeks.

Mobius smiled at him, patting his back lovingly, “You happy now, big guy?”.

Loki glared at him, but nodded nonetheless, eliciting a small chuckle from Mobius.

“Good, good. I’m pretty happy too. Hearing the God of Mischief snort and giggle is a great serotonin booster”, he teased, nodding approvingly and giving him a thumbs up.

Loki huffed as he felt his cheeks heat up, “I do not giggle, Mobius”.

Mobius rolled his eyes, “Then what were you doing while you were pretending to try to get away?”.

Loki sat up, his eyes widening in shock, “I was not pretending!”, he scowled, pushing Mobius back a little before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sure you weren’t, and you definitely don’t giggle, and you’re certainly not pouting right now.”, he said, sarcasm just dripping from his tone.

Loki looked at him, his expression softening as he thought about how much Mobius must have cared about his happiness to have went through the trouble to make him laugh like that.

“I uh… Thank you, Mobius”, he whispered, looking down at his lap as he spoke, “for caring”.

Mobius huffed out a small laugh, “Don’t thank me, big guy. You deserve it”.

Loki smiled, leaning against his friend’s chest and allowing himself to relax as Mobius wrapped an arm around him. Both of them smiled, trying not to look at each other for the sake of their own shyness.

It was quiet. It was peaceful. They were happy…. but who would the God of Mischief be without causing a little trouble?

“So… your full name is Mobius Mobius Mobius?”

Mobius tightened his arm around Loki with an impatient sigh, “Don’t make me pin you down again”.

—

——

The next few days passed full of smiles and jokes, and plenty of passing pokes and tickles to Loki’s sides and belly.

Loki knew now that Mobius cared, and he knew that Mobius was sorry, and that was all he could ask for.

And if pretending to be upset or just being ridiculously stubborn became a part of Loki’s daily routine, who was anyone to complain about it?

Certainly not Mobius, but he was always there to take care of Loki’s moods.

[xiaoshng]

Hi hii!! I just stumbled upon ur blog, and really fell in love w/ it, ur writings are so good plss 😣💛 You can ignore this if you're uncomfy with it, but can i request a xiao x yaksha reader oneshot? Where they've been pining for each other for so long ( like before to after archon war ) but they havent gotten together yet because they're scared ( karma debt thing 💀 ). And zhongli/ganyu/any of the adepti ( you can decide ) got fed up with their mindless pinings, and push each of them to confess to each other.

This is so long omg :')) I'm so sorry if my req was too complicated or if i said something wrong. thank you sm if u accept this btw!! Have a good day today! (๑°꒵°๑)･*💛

“ over-dued yaksha's pining ”

pairing : xiao x gn!reader

warnings : cheesy , a bit ooc xiao

word count : 769

a/n : im actually back this time I swear !!! Im so sorry if this wasn't what you had asked for, im also so sorry if xiaos a bit ooc, please forgive me

ganyu was over this.

having lived for ages now, you’d think these two wouldn’t be so afraid of something so measely like love.

It wasn’t like a mouse, nor a spider that scared you, no.

It was feelings.

you, as a powerful yaksha had wondered years with your heart heavy with only one person that was able to hold it. the anemo yaksha had stolen your heart over the past millennium, and you didn’t think you’d be able to stop anytime soon.

scared for rejection, you both cowarded into staying as working acquaintances as you both worked under liyue’s name, protecting it as it was only the place that had kept you sane throughout these years of long living.

It was hard being immortal sure, but you were never going to allow anyone to get past the point of drowning the whole beautiful city, as a point to also disappointing your silly little crush on a boy.

both of you talked on a daily, It was evident in everyone’s eyes that you both felt at least something for each other.

xiao had looks of longing, he always dreamed about what it’d be like to be in your arms just once, even if he knew he didn’t deserve it. he felt a sense of security near you, knowing you could protect yourself, he couldn’t help himself but worry over you still.

how’d you get here?

well ,ganyu had simply invited you both out to a nice dine in the peaceful city, “claiming” that she suddenly had plans, but in all seriousness, did she really? she was hiding somewhere behind the walls hoping to get a glimpse of what was happening at the small table of three.

you were nervous, speaking up “...sorry about that xiao, Im sure ganyu had a good reason for leaving a bit early…” swallowing down the refreshment left on the table.

xiao didn’t seem very bothered by this, but of course was tremendously cautious of what to respond to you with.

“she better have some explaining to do after this…” In all honesty, It seemed like xiao was more nervous then you were. Its not like both of you guys never were alone together, so why were you both getting clamming all of a sudden?

you had peaked over xiao shoulder for a few seconds noticing the light blue haired goat. curse her, she knew what she was doing.

it was so sudden for ganyu’s leave that it almost seemed suspicious to the fellow yakshas, but maybe this took a step in the correct direction?

ganyu had her head popped out of her hiding spot, giving up on the fact that one had already spotted her. trying to give encouragement, she had started throwing up a thumbs up, signaling you to finally release the stress that had been on your shoulders for ages.

both of you had been staring at your own feet for a while now, but it was almost in sync that you had both looked up at each other in the eyes. It was flustering, as you both stammered out.

“xiao-” “y/n-”

“ah no you can go first.” xiao had replied faster than you could, probably awaiting for your statement to spill out, maybe almost scared of what you were about to say.

“...I think that we’d both had spent such a large amount of time together that maybe, just maybe, we could be together if the heavens just allowed us this once.” you were terrified, of what could happen in the future. there was a huge loss thag you were willing to take just for him, you couldn’t help but be selfish for him.

xiao felt conflicted. he loved you, maybe a little too much, but he felt that all of the misfortune was caused by himself, he couldn’t help but falter a bit.

“I...I can’t, I love you y/n, but all im going to do for you is-”

talking nonsense was always what’d he liked to do, telling you that he was worthless and that he didn’t deserve to live. you had to shut him up, just this once.

It was so quick, how your lips and landed softly on his, how time had stopped just for a quick second. It was soft, just like how you imagined it would be, how you wanted to do this for so long and now you have.

this couldn’t be a dream. dreams never came this easy to you both, how you had set yourself free from all the nightmares and realized

how you both deserved something so special, just this once.

[equalseleventhirds]

Annabelle has always been scared.

Of her mother, and her moods. Of her siblings, both older and younger. Of being blamed for things. Of being unimportant. Of being worthless. Of being abandoned.

Of spiders.

She’s scared when she goes to university. What if she doesn’t fit in? What if the teachers hate her? What if she can’t keep up? What if money runs out, and she can’t afford the books, the dorm, the campus food?

She’s scared of the study she volunteers for, but more than that she’s scared of what might happen if she isn’t involved in extracurriculars, if she doesn’t curry favor with teachers and older students, if she’s seen as unsociable and unhelpful.

(Worthless, unimportant, abandoned...)

She’s scared of what’s happening to her body, to her mind, to the other students in the study. Scared of the way her fingers scuttle and her legs bend, scared of her dreams and the way they change. Scared of how she knows where the others are, now, all the time. Especially at night.

She’s scared the broken window will cut her when she climbs through, but she does it anyway, because she must, and she’s scared of that, too. Then she’s scared that the cleaner saw them and is going to stop them from leaving.

And suddenly his hands are on his own throat, and as much as that frightens her, it’s also a relief.

(Until something slams into her and it all goes--)

She spends the next few years still scared, but there’s a purpose to it now. A rhythm. Fear scuttles up her spine, but it doesn’t just stay there, spinning and rotting away inside her; it pushes her towards things. Usually towards scaring other people, like the cleaner, like Mark. Once towards an old man who she makes dance. Eventually it has her build a website, and things get a little easier then, as long as she doesn’t think too hard about it.

(She thinks about it. It wants her to. But only sometimes.)

Hill Top House scares her, too, with its empty rooms and dust and the taste of death and disappearance and burning in her mouth, but the Archivist finding her, hunting her down and asking her questions and blaming her for his own hunger, that scares her more. And the fear dancing on her spine says yes, that’s right, scare him off.

She calls him Jon, when she writes her statement.

It can be nice to have a name, sometimes.

It’s only a few months later when the sky blinks open, and she’s never been more scared in her life.

Fear doesn’t just live on her spine, now, but all around her, all the time. It’s the air in her lungs and the earth beneath her feet and the people in her domain, and she can’t escape any more than they can.

...can’t she?

(Even in this new world, fear can still push her. If she asks. She’s gotten good at asking in just the right way. She’s had practice.)

Upton house is.... less frightening than the rest of the world, although she’s afraid that Mikaele will kick her out. But he lets her stay, smiles at her, plays the piano, eats her cooking.

It’s been... a long time since she had a roommate.

(She still has so many things to do, because the fear is still out there, and it won’t let her go, even if it can’t quite catch proper hold of her with the camera. She has plans to make. Phone calls, too.)

The Archivist, as weakened as he is when he shows up, still sends that frisson of fear up her spine. Part of it’s just him being himself, but she also knows that his arrival means her own departure is coming soon, her plans in motion, and isn’t that terrifying?

She knows what Mikaele wants, from her, before she leaves.

She spends the journey scared of the Archivist spotting her, or spotting the moving gap in his awareness, or just. Finding her. Somehow. It’s a relief that he never does.

London scares her, but London has always scared her, a bit. She did grow up in Norfolk.

She’s scared that she won’t have a chance to talk to Martin. She should’ve been scared to talk to him. He does carry knives, and he is not in a very good mood, and so she has to talk very fast. At least she’s good at that.

“Why,” he says, glaring at her, not putting the knife down, “should I believe anything you just told me? Why the hell would you want to, to stop this? Why?”

Annabelle takes a breath and, for once, tells the truth. Just that. Plain and simple.

“Because I’m scared, Martin.”

[thisandthat-whatever]

First of all , to the moron anon who apparently loves carrying shit between blogs, your assumption that I think Spider-Man is an Oscar worthy masterpiece is hilarious because it shows what a certifiable teenager idiot you are. Check your facts unless truth hurts your pea sized brain. Here are some fact for ya about me: I haven’t even seen NWH. And I never talked about it. I barely saw FFH only a couple of months ago for the first time. I could not give a fuck about Marvel and superhero genre . I said Benita has shitty taste in cinema, simply because her tastes from what she has shared on her blog has always been incredibly subpar and poor. She doesn’t know shit about acting. Therefore her opinion on JE’s or Tom’s acting capabilities is worthless to me, which was what the other anon had brought up to me in an ask which is why it was mentioned.

Secondly, Benita, some “folks” like you get on some people’s nerves because of your hypocrisy , not because you “talk about Tom in the same manner as we talk about JE”. You were so up tomdaya’s ass during 2016-2018 that even your vile ex-Valdaya pals kmichelle and Ashley called you out on how you switched from Valdaya to Tomdaya so quickly. Even those lunatics saw through your bullshit. And back then to you Tom was a good looking enough dude for your zendaya, and you were eating up all the tomdaya crumbs and were even up in my dms often but fast forward to post-Jacdaya and your few non-sarcastically made posts were often shitting on Tom (cowardly posts may I add, by mostly not directly naming him).

You can fool your idiot followers by implying ALL your posts are sarcastic, but honey, I have a black belt in sarcasm and can see through your blatant and poorly-executed sarcasm and also your (“20%”) non-sarcastic posts, so you can’t hide all your opinions behind “I was just being sarcastic 🤪🤪🤪” excuse ) saying how you are baffled how people can find Tom attractive. The hypocrisy is what is annoying. Not that you need to find Tom attractive. But your flip flop ways are nauseating .So, that is why some “folks” have a problem with you.

[sunny-sings-sooth]

Daphne

Words: 4.5k

TW: Sexual assault, abuse

Here's my retelling of the myth of Apollo and Daphne! Highly experimental, as I usually write in first person and not so poetically. Hope you enjoy, and if anything doesn't make sense lemme know and I will add some context here. (Also FYI some of the dialogues are pulled directly from Homer's narration)

_____________________________________________________________

Phoebus Apollonas had been alive too long.

He was young by god standards, barely over a millenia old, and still one of the youngest Olympians. And yet he had grown exhausted. He’d been suffering the curse of life long enough to see the boy he used to be -- Phoebus -- die. The demise of the boy began when, in attempt to protect his sister Artemis, he had committed his first murder and thereby lost her forever. The boy decayed further when he’d held the corpses of his sons in his arms. And he’d finally killed the boy with his own hands when he turned his grief-fueled wrath on mortals. Phoebus, the bright, the innocent, the golden prince of Olympus, was dead. All that remained was Apollonas, the destroyer, the terror, the monstrous god of plague.

Except he no longer wished to be Apollonas. Apollonas was addicted to alcohol, drowning himself in it so that he wouldn’t have to face the memories that had murdered Phoebus. Apollonas had struck his younger brother Hermes, the only friend he had left, in drunken rage. Apollonas was despicable and deserved death. He could never be Phoebus again; that he knew and had accepted. But perhaps he could rid himself of Apollonas and become just Apollo. That did not mean erasing Apollonas; he had too many crimes to pay for, and running away would be a dishonor to all those who had suffered at his hands. He would repent for everything he had done as Apollonas, and thereby recreate himself as Apollo.

The first thing he needed to do was to break alcohol’s hold on him, which meant distancing himself from Dionysus. He didn’t want to abandon his youngest brother, but the temptation to drink was too strong in his presence. He hoped Dionysus would understand, and that he would one day be strong enough to bridge the gap of his creation.

He had been clean for three whole days. It didn’t seem like much -- blink of an eye in the lengthy lives of gods -- but that alone had taken him all his willpower. In the absence of the gallons of drink he had been consuming daily, not only was he plagued by memories and sheer self-hatred, he suddenly became highly attuned to the gossip that trailed him. Every moment on Olympus, hundreds of eyes were trained on him, and the whispers never escaped his sharp ears. It wasn’t that he was not used to being the center of attention, but rather the harsh truth of their statements. Phoebus Apollonas is a murderer. He flayed Marsyas alive for daring to challenge him. He curses anyone who questions his authority. He has killed thousands with his plague arrows. He is a monster. He knew these were all true and that he deserved to be pierced by such words, but the anxiousness caused by his withdrawal made them unbearable, and he had to escape to the woods. Here he found solace. Here he could work to slowly put himself together again until he was strong enough to face those who he wronged.

If he hadn’t been so lost in thought, then perhaps he would’ve heard the flap of wings before Eros was standing before him. He nearly dropped the silver bow that he’d been restringing and looked up to meet the other god’s gaze. Eros was the only man Apollonas considered a possible competitor in terms of beauty; his fair skin was smooth as a pearl, his wings the color of one, his features the aspiration of every artist’s portrait. And yet there was something unnerving about the other god. Perhaps it was his hair that, while comparable to a young maiden’s blush, was also the same shade as blood. Perhaps it was the deep red hue of his eyes, made of crushed hearts and rubies. And perhaps it wasn’t his appearance at all, but the mystique that surrounded him; he was the fourth being to come into existence and was old as time itself, and that was one of the only two things Apollonas knew about him.

“Phoebus Apollona,” Eros stated in greeting, and Apollonas hated how wrong it sounded, though he couldn’t tell if it was the names themselves or simply the one who spoke them.

“What do you want?” He couldn’t hide his irritation. The other thing he knew about Eros was that he was the god of love, and love had only ever caused Apollonas pain. He had no reason to like the god nor felt the need to veil his displeasure. All he wanted was the solitude necessary to rework himself.

“I was simply admiring your bow, oh He Who Shoots From Afar.” There was no missing the mockery in Eros’s voice, and his eyes gleamed as he gazed at the weapon. “Why, your skill is almost comparable to my own! Perhaps with some effort, you can become the greatest archer in the land.”

“Are you implying that you are the greatest archer?” Eros nodded, and one glance at the winged god’s slim arms and the modest bow slung across his back sent Apollonas into a fit of laughter. It was many moments before he could calm himself enough to speak. “What have you to do with the arms of men, you feeble thing?”

“I am merely suggesting I may be god of archery as you are god of plague.” Apollonas’s head snapped up at the idea, and his hands curled into fists as he stood, towering over the shorter god. If Eros was a painter’s fantasy, then Apollonas was a sculptor’s. His toned body was the epitome of perfection, the ideal balance between strength and beauty. He was well aware of this fact, and though he rarely preferred to use his appearance for intimidation purposes, Eros’s insult necessitated such action.

“Do not lay claim to my honors,” he hissed, his sky blue eyes glinting with divine power. Archery was the one constant he could always rely on. With his bow and arrows, he could protect and punish, wound and save. It was the one part of him that stayed no matter if he was Phoebus or Apollonas or whoever, and he’d be damned if he allowed this worthless winged wretch to even suggest taking that from him.

“Let us put it to test, then,” Eros declared, unfazed by the archer’s anger. What would the ancient deity have to fear from the youth? He was well aware of his capability, and little did Apollonas know he was falling into another trap, his emotions and naivety deceiving him once more. He was but a pawn in Eros’s game. “What say you to a battle of skill?”

Apollonas did not grace the other with an answer, lifting his weapon and drawing an arrow from his golden quiver in response. The toned muscles of his back flexed as he pulled back the string and released, and the arrow had barely gone forth an inch before he sent forward another, and then yet another. His arms were but a blur as arrow after arrow went flying, striking the most minuscule of targets: the pupil of a fly’s eye, the thread of a spider’s web, the stem of a single olive. Apollonas did not stop until his quiver lay empty, and he took in the perfect shots before him that seemed almost artistic by his hand. No matter how low he may have descended in these past years, there was no denying the masterpiece he created from the most basic of weapons. This was his domain. He couldn’t keep his lips from curling in conceit as he turned to Eros.

“That gear becomes my shoulders best,” he declared, setting his bow back beside his quiver to draw emphasis to the weapons that had adorned him for centuries. “I wound my enemies; I wound wild beasts. My countless arrows slew the bloated Python, whose vast coils across so many acres spread their blight. You and your loves!” Apollonas couldn’t hold back his scoff at the mention of Eros’s inferior work. “You have your torch to light them. Let that content you. Never claim my fame!”

“Your bow, Phoebus Apollona, may vanquish all, but mine shall vanquish you. As every creature yields to power divine, shall your glory yield to mine.” At Eros’s threat, an enraged response was making its way up Apollonas’s throat, but before it could spill off his tongue, the love god drew his own golden-tipped arrow. In the blink of an eye, he shot it forth right into the other god’s heart before taking flight.

Apollonas stumbled back, a gasp more of shock than pain escaping him as he clasped his hands over his chest, fingers fumbling for the arrow. However, it had already dissolved into him, its magic making its home in his body. He felt something ooze into his heart and bloodstream, shoot up his spine, ensnare his mind. He turned his attention inward, trying to identify the invader, but he could not locate it, nor could he compare it to anything he had ever felt before. What had Eros done? He lifted his head, searching for the god, but instead his gaze fell upon another figure altogether.

There, a few feet away, stood the sweet river nymph Daphne. He knew her -- he knew the names of many of the nymphs that resided in these woods -- but beyond a passing glance and a murmured greeting, she had never caught his attention. But now… he couldn’t seem to look away, his lips parting in awe as he stared at her, dumbfounded. Had she always been so breathtaking? How could he have missed such a beauty? Her dark locks flowed down like a waterfall of ink. What it would be to hold that silky hair between his fingers, to braid it and adorn it with flowers and beads! Her eyes were a startling shade of not blue, not green, but something between the two, and he could spend hours drowning in their depths. Her figure had the slightest curve to it, the outline of a river, and he imagined that her body had been crafted to fit against his perfectly. He saw her, loved her, wanted her.

“Daphne.” Apollonas whispered her name, marvelling at the nectar-like flavor that coated his tongue. If just her name was so sweet, then how must her lips taste? Looking was not enough. The urge to find out was unbearable, the earlier argument stolen from his mind entirely as he found himself tossing aside his bow and quiver. What did archery matter when he could master the bow of her lips instead? He would claim it, make it and the rest of her his and his alone. He took a step forth, a giddy smile alighting his features.

“St-stay back,” the nymph stammered, icy fear coiling in the depths of her stomach. She could read his intentions clearly on his face, from the crazed look in his eyes to the wolfish grin he wore to the way his hands reached towards her. Daphne knew all too well what this man planned to do with her, and that should she fall into his grasp, she would not be able to stop him from having his way. So when he took another step forward, she turned and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Apollonas gaped only a moment before rushing after her, an arrow released from its bow.

“Daphne, please wait! I am no foe! You don’t need to fear me!” he cried out after her. Daphne did not answer him, her thoughts only on escaping. Thorns and brambles tore at the bare skin of her calves, yet she refused to slow down. “You run as if I am a wolf and you a lamb, but that is not so! It is love that spurs me! Don’t fly so fast, lest you fall and wound yourself!”

“Leave me be, you horrid man!” she shrieked, not stopping even as her dress got caught on the surrounding plants and began to tear, revealing her to him little by little. Apollonas’s brows furrowed in worry at the sight of bloodied cuts on her legs. From within him a voice called out: What are you doing, Apollona? Why are you tormenting this poor girl? Leave her be! You will not have your way with her! But before the voice could say more, he caught a glimpse of the bare skin of her thigh, and everything left his mind. His conscience was once more bound and gagged by Eros’s power, forced to watch it all in horror. Speaking of the god of love, he also watched, flying unnoticed above them, yet he felt only amusement from the sight. The sheer terror that had contorted Daphne’s face and drawn panicked tears from her eyes made him smirk, and Apollonas’s frantic yelling drew out peals of laughter. They had both bent to his will so easily, and he was eager to see how this played out.

“You run because you do not know. I am no peasant, no shepherd!” Apollonas called out to her again. She was only afraid because he didn’t know who he was. He knew the moment she realized his true identity, she would stop and turn to him with a blessed smile. “I am the son of Zeus, prince of Olympus, lord of Delphi. By me things future, past and present are revealed. I shape the harmony of songs and strings. You will be happy as my bride, dear Daphne! I will see that your every wish is granted and that no desire goes unfulfilled. Please stay!”

“No! My only desire is to escape you!” Yet this would not be granted, as her body was beginning to fail her. Try as she might, she could not outrun Apollonas; he was strong from years of training and battle, and though she was swift and sure-footed, she had used up all her limited mortal strength. Her legs trembled with every step, her lungs two pits of fire in her chest. And so her traitorous body came to a stop as she gasped for breath, and Apollonas finally had her. He held her hip tightly, freezing her in place. Had he been in his senses and had control over his own body, he’d never have done this, and his conscience screamed within him. But he was deaf to it, the lust coursing through him silencing all else. His eyes soaked in her bare skin when he would’ve shielded them, his hands pulled her closer when he would’ve let her go, and he was ready to claim her when he would’ve done anything but this crime.

“My love.” His warm breath brushed against her ear as he leaned down, pressing his lips against the pale column of her neck. Daphne gasped and tried to pull herself away, but his grip was too strong, utterly unbreakable. How could she escape a god? She was helpless and frail, trapped and alone. There was no one to aid her, no one to stop Apollonas from running his hands down her body and forcing himself against her. And then he was turning her around, wishing to taste her lips, and a final plea escaped her.

“Help me, Peneus!” she screamed for her father. She knew her father could do nothing against an Olympian, but perhaps he could do something to her, and she would accept any escape from this fate. “Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form, which has brought me into this danger! Let me be free of this man from this moment forward!”

Daphne’s prayer was answered, and she was changing.

A stiffness had taken over her body, the swiftness that had protected her for so long sacrificed to escape Apollonas. Her arms lifted of their own accord, her fingers elongating up and her feet rooting into the ground. The dark waterfall split into a hundred streams that lightened to a soft green. Her curved figure fell away as her body thinned into a single arc, her legs fusing and her hands reaching higher and higher. Bark was creeping up from her extremities, down what were now branches and up what had transformed into a trunk. It conquered her shoulders, her chest, her neck. A soft sigh, her last breath, escaped her just as her lips were encased.

Apollonas’s lips met rough bark that cut at his soft skin. With a small gasp, his eyes flew open and he looked straight into Daphne’s piercing eyes. The waves in them had finally calmed, as the storm that had tormented them could no longer ripple its waters. He stared into those beautiful orbs, breathing her name, and watched as they shut forever.

Apollonas couldn’t tear his gaze away, his mind still unable to process the transformation that had unfolded before him. His hand trembled as he raised it, placing flat against the trunk of the tree. A steady pulse graced his fingertips -- a heartbeat. Daphne’s heartbeat. She was this tree, this sorrowful laurel tree, lost from him forever. His legs gave out beneath him as he wept, wrapping his arms around her and leaning his head against her bark. And yet the lust hadn’t left him, and he was kissing the wood over and over, whispering her name and an endless string of apologies as the skin of his lips tore and blood dripped down his chin.

“Oh, Daphne. My Daphne,” he cried, yearning what could’ve been. He thought the image of her smiling sweetly at him, kissing his cheek and calling him ‘husband’, was a vision, a prophecy promising that he could be the source of her happiness until the end of time. But he was wrong. It had been a fantasy, a dream that had slipped out of his grasp. And now she was gone. His sobs doubled in intensity as grief wracked him, and he didn’t notice Eros approaching until he spoke.

“Isn’t this a beautiful sight?” the god of love asked, his lips twisting into a smirk. “Phoebus Apollonas, broken and filthy inside and out. A slave to his desires. Do you accept defeat, oh lustful one?”

Apollonas turned to the other god, and the grief in him sharpened to rage. His beautiful Daphne, the love of his life, had been stolen from him, snatched right out of his hands, and the cause of it all was simply standing there, taking amusement in his loss. He reached for his bow only to find it missing, and so he lunged forth and tackled Eros to the ground, wrapping his hands around the smaller man’s thin neck.

“You monster,” Apollonas growled, his sky blue eyes glowing with divine power. This horrid creature had taken his Daphne from him and deserved nothing less than death. Apollonas would deliver him to the gates of Tartarus himself if necessary. The man must pay for his crimes. He increased the pressure, causing the other god to choke under his iron grip. “You did this!”

“Oh no, Apollona. I merely gave you a nudge. The rest was all you,” Eros gasped out, managing to laugh even as his windpipe threatened to collapse altogether. The sun god’s brows furrowed at the statement, and Eros subtly waved his hand, calming the effects of his magic. “And who knows what you’ll do next if I keep nudging you forth? You’ll be giving your father quite the competition, won’t you?”

The spell finally broke, and Apollonas’s grip slackened as the lust drained out of him and the truth became clear. He had chased Daphne. He had chased Daphne with the intention to force himself on her. He had tried to kiss her and claim her as his own with no care for her terror. He pushed her so far that she thought it better to lose her humanity than to be his. Oh Fates, what had he done? You are the most wicked person to live, Phoebus Apollona. You are no better than your father. You did this to that poor girl. You ruined her.

“N-no,” he whispered, backing away from Eros and clamping his hands over his ears, but it was in vain. The voice came not from outside but from within, where his conscience was finally free to reclaim its owner. And so Apollonas relived the incident that had just taken place. He saw himself chase after her just as Python had chased him and his family, heard his plans to ruin her just as he believed Orion had intended with Artemis, felt himself force himself upon her just as Zeus did to his mother Leto. Never in his life had something been so achingly clear to him as this truth: while he had spent his whole life painting others as wicked, he had been the most terrible monster all along. Apollonas doubled over, spilling his insides onto the earth as though he could purge the maliciousness from his body. But alas, he could not; he was born the destroyer, and he had truly lived up to his name. He could not tell if his scream remained in his soul or ripped out of him. He didn’t know if it was tears or fire spilling from his eyes. All he knew was the terrible truth that he has been blind to all his life.

“You are weak, boy. But I can make you strong,” Eros declared, towering over the hysterical god. He wondered how Olympus would react to seeing their golden heir broken on the ground, sobbing like a spoiled child. He could only imagine they’d be just as entertained as he. Still, the time for games was over. Making sure to avoid the pool of vomit, he crouched down and placed a thin finger under Apollonas’s chin, forcing the young god to meet his gaze. “Here is my offer to you: vow to me on the river Styx that you will follow my every command, and I will save you from further humiliation and heartbreak.”

“What, so I can spend my life blind and deaf, a mindless slave to a heartless man?” A dry, humorless laugh slipped out of Apollonas’s lips. He had seen and tasted truth, and he would not give that up to become Eros’s puppet. He scowled and spat at the love god’s feet, glaring into those blood-red eyes. “That is what I think of your offer.”

“I expected the god of intellect to be wiser than this, but I now see the difference between you and Athena.” Eros sneered, wrinkling his nose at the sorry display. “Do not be hasty, godling, and ponder my words carefully. I am offering you invulnerability. I will harden your heart to stone so that none may hurt you. Without your greatest weakness, you will be unstoppable. You will never have to feel such pain again.”

Apollonas paused for a moment, considering Eros’s claim. To never feel this soul-tearing agony again? To be free of the organ that rebelled against his mind at every moment? Now that he contemplated it, the offer was quite tempting. Without his heart, he would only have to rely on his body and mind, both of which were immaculate. He would indeed be unstoppable, finally the golden heir of Olympus he was expected to be. And yet… his gaze moved to the laurel tree, and a single leaf drifted down before him. Apollonas caught it in the palm of his hand, carefully tracing its pale green veins. If he were to remove his heart, to lose his ability to feel, would that not be a dishonor to Daphne? After all he had put her through, did she not deserve to be mourned and remembered? And what about all the others, every mortal that had suffered at his hand? He would be spitting on their graves by choosing to run away from the pain that, in the face of what torment they had lived through, was nothing. And so Apollonas rose to his feet, stretching to full height and then kneeling down so that his face was merely inches from the love god’s. “Rot. In. Tartarus.”

“You really should have chosen the easy path,” Eros muttered, the smirk sliding off his face as he grit his teeth. Apollonas wanted to regret? Then he’d give him reason to regret. His hands flew to Apollonas’s temples, freezing the younger god in place. Eros’s eyes glowed, twin pits of lava, and his voice boomed as he invoked his ancient power. “I curse you, Phoebus Apollona. May love be your enemy and your heart a traitor. May you be powerless to control the whims of your desire, and may you be the cause of pain to those you love, over and over until the end of time itself.”

Apollonas fell to the ground once more, struggling as the curse rooted itself deep in his soul, at the very essence of his being. By the time his throat had grown too raw for him to continue screaming, Eros had already flown away, leaving behind nothing but punishment. He found himself crawling back to the laurel tree, to Daphne, leaning his forehead against her trunk as he wept. He wept for her, for those before her, and for those after her.

“I’m sorry, Daphne,” he whispered, holding on so tightly the bark dug into his skin and realizing how powerless he really was. “I’d change you back if I could, sweet nymph, but I cannot. Instead, I swear by the river Styx, I won’t let you be forgotten. I bless you so that your leaves are never shed and instead will be woven in wreaths that will become a symbol of honor, the very thing I tried to steal from you. Let mankind see me to be the monster I am if that means your memory will live on. And even if your name no longer forms on the lips of men, they will live on eternally upon my own. This I vow to you.”

With this, he lay one last touch upon the tree before turning away, trudging his leaden feet back to Olympus. He heard the whispers as he arrived in the city, but he paid them no mind and made way to his house. Barely moments after he entered, his fingers scurried over the wall until they found the loose brick that he yanked out and tossed aside. His hands trembled in a moment of hesitation before reaching in. He grasped the bottle of his poison, his secret, his solace. Apollonas lifted it to his lips, tears running down his face, and drank his worries away.

[marvel-sluts]

please don't go.

request: Can I request prompts 3. Please don't go & 16. Enemies to lovers with Tom Holland? 😊 - @palna (sorry it won't let me tag you)

prompt list

pairing: Tom Holland x reader

warnings: swearing, emotional abuse, angst, fluff

summary: you worked with Tom on set and ever since the first day he hated you. one day he overhears a phone call between you and your Dad, making him feel horrible for how he treated you.

a/n: im planning on making a masterlist soon so look out for it! anyway, enjoy lovlies!

***********

you opened the door to your apartment after a hard day at work. flopping onto the sofa and turning on the TV, not really paying attention to the six o'clock news.

that bloody Holland kid thinks he has the right to make your life a living hell. from the moment you met him he hated you.

you walk into the room flashing a smile to the people in there. you had been chosen to play a part in the new spider man movie. having quite a few successful movies under your belt you were well known.

you went round shaking hands with people, each one of them greeting you with a small smile and a hello. that was until you reached a certain individual.

"hi, I'm y/n" you say holding out you hand.

he looked you up and down with a grimace and looked at your outstretched hand, taking it in his and shaking it roughly.

"Holland, Tom Holland."

the buzz of you phone wakes you from your trance and you looked down to see your best friends name flash on the screen.

you quickly answer the phone and her voice can be heard throughout the room.

"sorry to bother you like this y/n but can we go out tonight? I had a shit day at work and need someone to take my mind off of it." she said.

"you read my mind, where do you want to go?" you ask, relieved to have an excuse to leave the house.

"how about the bar down the road from your house?" she said.

"sure, let me get changed out of my clothes first."

"okay I will be at your house in half an hour." she said hanging up the phone.

you run up the stairs and put on a black skirt and a pink shirt, touching up your makeup from filming and pulling on a pair of boots.

a few minutes later b/f/n (best friends name) rings the doorbell of your apartment and you go to greet her.

you reached the bar and grabbed one of the only remaining tables.

"so, what made your day so shitty?" you asked taking a sip of your gin.

"just my dickhead of a manager. he has given me about 5 projects and is expecting them all done by next week." she sighs rolling her eyes at you.

you snort into your drink "like your gonna get all of that done in such a short amount of time." you say.

"I know right. anyway whats going on with you?" she asked, knowing something was up. "is it that Holland guy again? I swear to god I will punch his nose in if he's done anything to you." she said, knowing how much he bothers you.

"there is nothing that you can do. he just gets on my nerves. I don't know what his deal is with me." you say.

"what does he do?"

"glares at me alot, won't speak to me unless its to criticise what I'm doing and just overall makes my life miserable." you say with a sigh.

"and you dad...?" b/f/n asked.

"same as usual, he still hates me and continues to tell me how much of a failure I am." you say rolling your eyes. your dad was a dick, you and him had never gotten on.

"I know, you just have to ignore him. he just doesn't see how amazing you are." she said smiling at you.

"I guess..."

after a few hours of talking and forgetting your problems. b/f/n drove you home.

after getting undressed you collapsed on your bed, exhausted. falling asleep within seconds.

******

you woke up with a start and checked your phone. shit. you had slept through your alarm and you were going to be late for filming.

quickly pulling on clothes and fixing your hair and makeup you ran to your car and got to set only 15 minutes late.

"oh here she is, finally decided to show up did you?" came a chastising voice.

you sighed, knowing immediately who it was, choosing to ignore the comment you walked to your trailer.

the hair and makeup team quickly got to work on you, making you look amazing within minutes.

after throwing a quick thanks over your shoulder, you rushed to set and got told what scene they were filming and where to stand.

half an hour later you heard a "and cut, great job guys. go and get read for the next scene."

you quickly checked your script and realised that you were needed for the next scene, opting to go to your trailer and wait to be called.

suddenly your phone rang, making you jump. you picked it up before checking who it was, assuming it was b/f/n.

"oh you've finally decided to stop ignoring my calls have you?"

shit, it was your Dad. "hey dad, and for the record I wasn't ignoring them. I was working."

"yeah, what job again? that acting thing of yours? how many times y/n, thats not a job."

"okay" you whispered quietly, just wanting this to be over.

"your such a worthless bitch you know that? even your Mum thought that before she died. it was probably you who killed her. admit it y/n. you killed her." he said, trying to press your buttons.

"how many times Dad, the doctors said that she died of a heart attack. it wasn't me." you say.

"pfft, your just covering for yourself. how about you buy me a new house to make up for it?"

"Dad, I just bought you a new house, and a new car. surely you can't need anything bigger." you say, knowing he is just using you but feeling guilty for saying no nevertheless.

"well I want new house, maybe somewhere by the sea. or some big mansion." he said.

"but Dad i was planning on giving some of that money to charity and the rest was going to s/n (siblings name) school fund. so that they can go to a good school."

"fuck s/n, I want a new house. and if you don't then you really would be as fucking annoying as your mother. your no good for anything." he said, hanging up the phone.

a tear trickled down your face. you should have known all he wanted was a new house, new car. why not get a new fucking kid while he's at it. you bought him a new car last month and a new house the month before that, surely he doesn't need another one.

a knock was heard on the door of the trailer that you had accidentally left open. you spun around to see Tom, worry etched across his face. he walked into your trailer.

"hey y/n, are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on your arm.

"get off of me" you say, shrugging him off. "why would you care anyway, you've had this grudge against me ever since I started here."

Tom's face fell. "I'm sorry y/n I didnt mean to treat you like that."

"then what did you mean to treat me like because it was pretty damn obvious that you hated me. everyone saw it." you said.

"it wasn't you." he said looking down shamefully.

"look if this is about what you overheard with my Dad, don't worry about it. don't tell anyone and continue treating me like shit." you say, turning away from him again.

"no y/n what I overheard made me feel really guilty for treating you how I did. what I did was wrong and it wasn't your fault for how I treated you." he said, grabbing you and forcing you to look at him.

"then why did you do that to me?" you asked, confused.

"just before we started filming me and my girlfriend had broken up, she was toxic and would hit me and scream at me." he said, tears clouding his vision. "the day we started filming was the day I ended it with her, so I wasn't in the best mood. but when you walked in I could of sworn it was her. your hair and eyes are similar but your face is completely different."

"so from a distance I looked like her?" you asked, beginning to put the peices together in your head.

"yes. you had such a kind personality, always caring about others and everyone else loved you. but I couldn't get it out of my head. I guess that's why I treated you so badly, because you looked so much like her."

"Tom you could have just said something, I would have understood." you say, looking at him.

"I know I'm sorry." he said. "how are you, what happened with your Dad?" he asked.

"he keeps asking for new stuff, I just bought him a new house but he wants another one, and he wants a new car when he has the newest model. but at the same time he's always telling me how worthless and stupid I am, and how this acting thing isn't a proper job." you say, "maybe I'm just being selfish."

"no y/n, your not being selfish. I heard what you wanted to put that money towards instead of buying him stuff that he doesn't need. a selfish person wouldn't give to charity and help with paying for s/n schooling."

"are you sure?" you asked, doubt seeping in.

"very sure." he said, "is there anything you need, I could say that you are ill or something, give you some time to think over what happened with your Dad?"

"no I'm okay." you say.

"how about you come round to mine after work, we could talk everything out."

"yeah okay, I'd like that."

******

after filming was over, you drove over to Tom's apartment. he answered the door quickly and let you in.

you sat down on his sofa and admired the little things he had "borrowed" from the sets of different movies.

"do you want a drink?" he called from the kitchen.

"can I have a f/d (favourite drink) please?" you call back.

"sure."

he came back in with your drink and a coke for him.

"look about what happened today with my Dad, I never meant for you to overhear that and I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone." you say, looking down at your drink.

"your secrets safe with me, and if you don't mind me saying. your Dad is a bit of a dick." he said, smiling kindly at you.

"tell me about it." you laughed. "he's been like that ever since I can remember, he's always favoured my siblings over me." you say bitterly.

"well don't tell them but I prefer you." Tom said, trying to cheer you up a bit. "and I'm glad I overheard that conversation, because it made me think about I had treated you. and I'm starting to think that there was maybe another reason I didn't like you." he said sheepishly.

"and whats that?" you ask.

"I kind of liked you. I still do. after what happened with my last relationship I was scared I guess but I don't want to fuck anything up. I really like you y/n, I never meant to treat you like I did but I was pushing you away so that I didn't fall further than I already have." he said, blushing furiously.

"well Tom, maybe I like you too. thats why it hurt so much when you were horrible to me." you say. "do you just like me because I look like her?"

"no no no, that's not it at all. I like you because you have this sort of aura around you, people love you and your so nice to people." he said. "I like you because of your personality, the fact that you look slightly like a toxic ex has nothing to do with it." he added as an afterthought.

"aura?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

"yeah, people sort of want to protect the innocence you radiate. your aura makes everyone love you and it's how your smile brightens up a room and how you look when the sunlight hits your features." he said, gently placing his hand on your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you, and it's my fault, but maybe we can start again?" he asked.

"okay." you say smiling up at him. before pulling away from his hand and sticking out your own. "y/n y/l/n, nice to meet you." you say.

"Tom Holland, pleasure." he said shaking your hand.

you turned around as the shrill sound of your phone broke the brief silence, checking the called ID this time you saw Dad appear on the screen. you look over at Tom in fear, showing him the screen.

"answer him y/n, maybe he wants to apologise. and I'll be right here with you" Tom said, flashing you a reassuring smile.

"okay" you said picking up the phone and putting it on speaker so that Tom could hear better. motioning to him to be quiet, him nodding in response.

"hi Dad." the fear in your voice evident.

"how's the new house you were going to buy me coming along? don't forget I want a big one." he said.

"actually Dad, I've thought about it and I just bought you a new car and house. the money is going towards s/n schooling and charity. I don’t think that you need anything else." you say, smiling weakly at Tom who gave you a thumbs up. egging you on.

"I don't care what you think, I'm your parent and you should listen to me. you are such a selfish bitch I don't even know why I bothered with you." he spat down the phone. "you are just a waste of space and I don't know how you made all of this money, who would ever want to employ you?"

"Dad you're not guilt tripping me into buying anything for you like you did last time. I'm not doing it." you say, tears beginning to cloud your vision. Tom noticed this and put his hand on your leg gently. in order to calm you down.

"you're such a fucking bitch. I never want to see or hear you again." he spat, hanging up.

as soon as he had hung up the phone, tears started falling down your face. Tom reached up and wiped away some of your tears before pulling you into his chest.

"hey hey hey, it's okay calm down." he said kissing your forehead and pulling you back into his arms.

"he hates me and its all my fault." you choke out before collapsing into tears again.

"its not your fault, your Dad is just being selfish and is only using you for your money. don't listen to him." he said, stroking your hair to comfort you.

"do you want me to go and get you something? ice cream maybe?" Tom asked.

"no, please don't go. I need you." you say.

"okay, I'm right here love. don't worry I'm not going anywhere." he said.

eventually you fell asleep, with his arms around you and your head on his chest. before Tom drifted off he kissed your temple and whispered "I'm so sorry y/n, I love you."

[itsmoonpeaches]

The Ocean Meets the Sky

Chapter 1: Growth

Please note: Every prompt for this Kataang Week connects into an over-arching story.

Prompt: Height Difference

Summary: In the midst of battle, there was not anything else that Aang thought of. There were clashes, debris flying, fear for his life, and he only thought of that. But when the dust settled, his bruises felt, his muscles aching deeply, he could only think of her.

-

Or, after his battle with Fire Lord Ozai, something lingers within Aang's spirit. Katara is the one that pulls the seams back together. No matter what, Aang and Katara find each other.

Written for @kataang-week

Read on ao3 or ffn.

---

Aang boarded the airship with the others as they babbled jokes in the background. Sokka, Toph, and Suki were throwing barbs at the Fire Lord he had just defeated. Ozai, in his utter worthlessness, was a limp puppet with his strings cut. Aang found it, for better or for worse, just a little bit amusing. Probably more amusing than he should have.

The image of a life-sized ragdoll increased when it was Toph who decided that it would be her spirts-forsaken right to drag Ozai onto the ramp and up into the loading dock of the ship.

“What’s that Loser Lord?” mocked Toph as she metalbended Ozai along on a makeshift gurney complete with elongated belts of steel around his torso and limbs. “Were you saying something? I couldn’t hear you over all your whining.”

Ozai groaned something intelligible.

Sokka limped with his broken leg, an arm around Suki’s shoulder. “I think he was trying not to drool,” he added with a grin. “Kind of hard if the Avatar just kicked your butt if you ask me.”

Suki chuckled, urging the rest of them along. “Hurry up, slowpokes. We have a Fire Nation capital to get to,” she said.

They made it on the airship together, collapsing onto the nearest chairs as soon as Ozai was secured. The weariness set in faster than Aang anticipated. He was worn and his clothes were mostly disintegrated into fire. All he had on was a pair of ragged brown pants. He was sure that there were burns all over him, maybe even a few internal injuries he could not feel yet. He was not looking forward to finding out.

After a moment of exhausted wallowing, he and Sokka were directed to a spot in the medical bay. Suki deemed them both the most incapacitated out of the four of them. Minus, of course, Ozai himself.

“Now, I don’t want either of you standing up until we land,” she commanded, hands propped on her hips. Even after a battle well fought, she kept an impeccable stance. Aang could hardly guess she was ever winded. “I’ll get Katara to heal you two, but you don’t want her killing you before she does it properly, got it?”

Sokka sighed. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied as he plopped himself onto a cot.

Aang fought a gasp when he heard Katara’s name, felt it bubble just beyond his reach. He watched Suki leave the room. She shut the metal door behind her and twisted the latch. The echo of the name trailed behind her like a phantom from her lips.

His heart thudded just a little quicker, his chest constricted just a little more. The leftover smoke in the air urged him along, wanting him to choke on the wonder of just the thought.

In the midst of battle, there was not anything else that Aang thought of. There were clashes, debris flying, fear for his life, and he only thought of that. But when the dust settled, his bruises felt, his muscles aching deeply, he could only think of her.

He realized that things suddenly turned from “What if?” to “What now?” Yet, it was so much more than that. They had made it out alive, but there was still the mystery of if she and Zuko did as well.

He could not bear to think that they did not. That she did not.

Aang rested against the cool surface of the wall. He felt the hum of the ship as it came to life, the fluttering butterflies in his stomach as they started to tilt upward and towards the sky. He imagined that if she were there, he would feel something similar.

Sokka cleared his throat and Aang turned his attention toward him. “So,” drawled Sokka, “A lion turtle, huh? You can just take away people’s bending like that? Can you give someone bending?”

Aang laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, a lion turtle. According to legend, they gave the power of the elements to humans a long time ago. I learned that from Wan Shi Tong’s library. Though, I don’t think I could give people something that wasn’t already there, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Sokka looked surprised for a bit, his eyes wide. “Oh,” he said, placing his hands on his lap. “I didn’t mean that you’d give me bending like…as a thing. I was wondering if you could...you know…mess with people. Prank them a little. Maybe even…switch elements with someone? You know, scare people into thinking Toph is the Avatar because that would be terrifying.”

The look on Sokka’s face was earnest, and if Aang was honest with himself, he knew from the moment Sokka went prattling on about messing with people that he was serious about it.

Aang burst out into laughter.

“Hey, hey!” Sokka pouted, raising his arms in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t kidding!”

Aang was able to calm himself down for a moment. “Yeah, I know,” he said, “It just sounded exactly like something you would say.” He paused for a breath, staring at his friend with a soft smile. “It was nice. Almost like coming home.”

Sokka blinked. He opened his lips a few times, but nothing came out. Instead, he placed a hand on Aang’s back, and smiled at him.

It was silent for a while before Sokka asked, “So, how was it when you took away Ozai’s bending?” He gave Aang a pointed look. “It looked pretty crazy from where we were with all the light beams.”

Aang remembered what the lion turtle told him: “To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable, or you will be corrupted and destroyed.” Instead of sharing this with Sokka, he said, “Yeah, it was pretty crazy.”

The truth was what he recalled in that moment was pure unadulterated terror. Orange clashing against blue, night and day, bright and dark. He could not see what the difference was in all the chaos. All he knew was that he wanted to end the war his way, the way he believed it should be. Because what was peace if not for a peaceful beginning and a peaceful culmination?

It was what his people, his culture, taught him. The memory of Gyatso one rainy spring evening when he was small appeared and reminded him, “All life is sacred…even the life of the tiniest spider fly. You think that its life is any less important than yours? You and I, just like this spider fly caught in its own web, are part of a greater whole…of a greater balance.”

The thought had given him purpose, joy even. But Aang was still a person who had lost everything, and when he was about to tell Sokka about his experience, he could not help but remember one last thing.

A voice had reverberated through him as he felt the battle of wills reach its climax, as he had fought through Ozai’s wishes and dreams of burning the Earth Kingdom to the ground, seeing it in visions and grotesque images of blackened, skeletal people.

And he had thought, just for a second, that that was how Gyatso died. Distorted and unrecognizable and scorched.

A great and terrible voice had spoken into his ear at that point, right before he proved that his spirit was unbendable. To hate me is to give me breath. To fight me is to give me strength, it had said. Deep, ominous. Familiar. There is darkness you have failed to recognize.

Then, just like that, it had vanished.

To Sokka, Aang said, “I’ll tell you more about it when we land. I’m pretty tired.”

Very soon he was dozing off, only to be awakened by the screeching of metal on metal. His eyes snapped open, and he found that the airship had stopped moving. Suki had come for them, telling them to disembark.

“The Fire Nation capital,” she remarked. “I never thought I’d ever make it to this place in one piece.” She nodded at the two of them. “Let’s see if we can get you guys healed up.”

At the suggestion, Aang suddenly remembered his worry. Without thinking, he bolted through the door, sprinting through the maze of the vessel on pure adrenaline alone. He was not sure how he remembered where to go, but he was sure that the prospect of seeing Katara on the other side of it all had something to do with it.

He almost stumbled out the exit, tripping over himself on the ramp that slanted down onto the palace courtyard. He glanced up, and it was silent for the longest time as he spotted Katara’s figure hovering over a propped-up form that leaned against a pillar on the steps.

Aang slowed, and then stopped. She looked up, and as soon as their eyes met, it was as if the whole world was about to collapse in on itself and Aang would never notice.

Zuko, looking worse for wear and with a torn tunic, nudged at Katara’s side and that seemed to urge her forward.

That was the catalyst for everything that came after.

Aang ran and so did Katara. They met in the center between the steps and the airship, colliding into each other’s arms, holding each other so tightly that Aang could feel how hard his heart thud in his chest. He could feel every part of him sigh in both relief and exhilaration.

His chin hooked onto her shoulder, pressing into the soft blue fabric there. She shuddered out  his name, and he was sure that he could feel her tears pool onto his neck as she too pressed her face next to his.

“You made it,” Katara whispered, “You made it.”

Aang sagged into her embrace. “You did too,” he added. “We both did.”

They pulled apart and he could see how pink her cheeks were, how red her glittering eyes were along the edges of them. Her arms remained draped around his shoulders, and his hands rested just above her waist.

Katara smiled. “You’re taller,” she observed, laughing a little. Almost as if in awe. “You’re almost as tall as me. I guess I never noticed until now.” She pulled him close once more, this time without the desperation they both displayed only minutes before. “I’m glad that there’s time for me to see you grow more.”

Aang did not notice as their other friends started to encircle them with their own hugs until they sank to the ground together. Katara did not let him go.

[superherotiger]

Tony doesn’t think about his father much anymore. Actively tries to avoid it if he can.

But when he does, he thinks about agonising silence and booming shouts. Of the ice in a whiskey glass and the hot sting of a backhand against his face. Of nameless women cycling through their mansion in the dead of night, and tear tracks down his mother’s cheeks as she releases a storm of anguish and betrayal in her screams. Of cold eyes shifting anywhere but to meet his own. Sharp glares and even sharper words.

Love you Dad, he says on the night of his seventh birthday, only to be met with a grunt.

Did I do something wrong, he asks when they drop him off at boarding school at some ungodly hour in the morning. Howard doesn’t even look back as the car disappears past the fence line.

Did you ever even love me, Tony asks one Christmas as he visits from MIT, reeking of alcohol and swaying in unsettled rage. His father only frowns and tells him how useless he is. How he would be nothing without the legacy that Howard had built for him.

Tony doesn’t think about his father much, and when he does, he wants nothing more than to forget.

But when Peter walks through the doors of his lab with those bright, warm eyes and wide, endearing grin, Tony thinks about something new.

He thinks about how much he loves this kid, and his smile, and his laugh. He thinks about how the constant throb in his left hand ebbs away whenever the boy is near, and how natural it feels to hold him in his arms. He thinks about lab days and patrols and movie nights over cheap Chinese takeout. Of comfortable banter and gentle assurances. Of familiar brown eyes that stare up at him with trust, and care, and something akin to love.

I’m sorry if I’m being a burden, Peter says once when he gets stuck with his new formula, and Tony rushes to assure him that he could never be a burden. That he wants to help him, and he always will.

Are you mad at me, the boy asks after he is almost killed by an arms dealer he was told not to pursue. Tony just pulls him into a fierce embrace and begs him never to do it again.

I love you Mr Stark, Peter says as he presents the man with a birthday gift -a cheap porcelain mug with Ironman and Spider-Man on it- and Tony drags Peter into his chest and buries the impending tears his kid’s mop of curls. He mutters assurances of worth and importance and love into Peter’s ear, and Tony damn near breaks down when the boy returns the encouragements.

Tony thinks about Peter -about his kid- a lot, and when he does, he hopes he never forgets.

It’s too late for Tony to have a good father, but he realises it’s not too late to become one himself. It took many decades but he finally knows now that he’s not worthless, or weak, or a disgrace to the family name. He knows he can be better than what came before.

He knows thanks to Peter, he could be so much more.