#i have trouble expressing my wants and needs that i honestly rather just sever my relationships

[hibiscuts]

:)

[tokoyamisstuff]

Delicate

Homelander x F! Reader

Summary: You and Homelander have been official for a while now, but you have yet to understand why things never went beyond a certain line.

Warnings: slight angst, slight manhandling, somnophilia, masturbation, explicit smut, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex

A/N: not proofread as always bc I cringe at my own writing. take it or leave it

Homelander had never learned how to be gentle.

Of course he knew how to touch someone without breaking them if necessary, but there's limits to his self-restraint. Especially when it came to the intimate kind of encounter.

This sadistic side of his was an expression of his desperate need for control, an inability to truly let himself fall and be vulnerable with another person.

For decades his mantra was that normal humans only exist for supes' - and mostly his - entertainment. Your weakness was his thrill, the sheer difference in power so ridiculously high that you might as well be filthy bugs - and Homelander was like a cruel child with a magnifying glass.

Usually his mates were supes themselves and even they could barely handle his violent urges, but you are a mere human. So fragile and precious that it terrified him at times.

What if he loses control in the heat of the moment? What if he breaks you? Or even worse: What if you see him for the monster he really is and run away like everyone eventually does?

A while ago Homelander heard the story about Ice Princess' fling, some Vought employee nobody. She accidentally froze his penis off during climax. Hilarious, honestly. The first time he heard this story he had a very good laugh, and he still can't look that guy in the eye without cackling when he passes him in the hallways.

But now, being romantically involved with one of those weaklings himself, the possibility of something similar happening to you made his stomach turn...

...but of course, as Homelander always does, he chose to ignore the problem at hand instead of addressing it.

Why bother with an unpleasant conversation if he can just prolong this innocent, chaste bond for as long as possible? He'd rather have you like this than unnecessarily putting you into harm's way.

You on the other hand slowly but steadily grew impatient with your boyfriend.

At first you thought he was merely being chivalrous, but it's been three months and still nothing. He's famous, so you had involuntarily learned about his past affairs - and he's definetly not old-fashioned.

Then why is he hesitating so much?

Most of the time you don't dare talking about what's bothering you, simply because any issue of yours seemed so insignificant compared to the horrible things John's been through.

Admittedly, he once literally lasered a guy's head into mush just for throwing a can to his son's head. So while his reactions can be a bit unpredictable, John cares so deeply about the few people he loves that you want to spare him any more trouble.

Unhealthy way of handling things, admittedly.

Last week you had planned it all out: What you could only describe as the perfect date was supposed to continue in his apartment, and you could literally see all blood flow from his brain to nether regions as you entered the bedroom in finest lingerie.

Anyways, you had initiated several times up until now, and initially he'd always go along with it. However as soon as your make-out-sessions turn more heated, he'd abruptly end them and practically storm off.

Everything went so well at first, with you straddling his waist and tentatively grinding against his lap. His hands moved against his will as his resolve crumbled, finding the curves of your body and relishing in the feeling of your exposed skin under his gloves. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to go all out, fearing dangerous consequences.

A proper dosage of pain can function as aphrodisiac, at least in your opinion. So you didn't tell him to stop, in fact your senses were too clouded by desire to even notice the way his fingers dug into the cushion of your hips.

Yet there was just the tiniest microexpression, just the fraction of a second where your heart sped up and your face contorted in pain...

...and Homelander, shocked with himself, threw you so frantically off of his lap, you landed face firsr on the floor instead of the bed.

Against all reasoning, you laughed hysterically at his not-so-subtle rejection, and god knows you'll tease him about it until forever. But also, understandably, on the inside you were as hurt and confused as never before.

Doesn't make it any better that your boyfriend had been avoiding you like you were the goddamn pest ever since.

Just like today, when Homelander comes home to you way past midnight, double checking with his x-ray-vision whether you were already fast asleep.

John was aware that this topic has been tormenting you for a while now, and while he never intended to hurt you - quite the opposite, really - he also clung to this pleasant illusion he had created with you.

Lucky at cards, unlucky in love, or so they say.

The course of his life had convinced him that all remotely good things happening to him will be taken away again. A farce prepared by destiny itself just to mock him, maybe evening out the scales since he had been blessed with too much power.

On days as shitty as this one however, nothing compares to having someone to come home to - even when he made sure that you weren't awake to confront him. He tosses his boots aside, grateful for you to be a sound sleeper as they fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Your boyfriend's heart sinks as he pulls up the blanket, being greeted by a handprint-shaped bruise on the side of your hip. Seems like it still hurts too much to sleep on that side. His fingertips run over the dark purple-ish mark, a pained groan escaping your throat when he gives in to the temptation to squeeze your ass.

He really is the worst.

Homelander freezes until he's certain you continue sleeping undisturbed, the sound of his own heart hammering against his chest drowning out all other noise. His palm is still lingering on your body, running up and down your sides and earning relieved sighs in return.

Before you'd feel his excitement too much, he manages to tear his body away from you, his erection twitching painfully as he rolled onto his back.

John really had pure intentions when he embraced you from behind, simply wanting to distract himself and fall asleep while cradling you in his arms - yet instead his already hard cock buries itself neatly between your thighs, the friction making him utter vile things.

Damn it Y/N, why the fuck do you always sleep in underwear only?! Is it to taunt him or to test his limits? Because it's working.

A breathy moan escapes his lips as he spread his legs wide, cock already leaking precum when he ran his thumb across the slid. He grabs it fiercely, pumping hard to make quick work of it, while roaming every inch of your skin he can get his other free hand on.

"Need some help with that?"

Shit.

ShitshitshitshitSHIT!

Seems like he was a little too busy with getting off - so much that even his heightened senses didn't catch you waking up to this scene. Your boyfriend had a habit of sleeping naked, so right now there was none of what he did left to the imagination.

"Heyyy sweetheart..." John tried to put on his trusty showman attitude, an awkward grin stretched across his face while trying to cover himself with the next best pillow. "Sorry babe, didn't wanna wake you up. Just go back to slee-"

"And miss out on the show?" you chuckle half-sleepily and he wants to die. He's done worse things in his life, way worse to be precize - so why is he fucking shy nowy just because you caught him? "Aww, you're blushing." He contemplates lasering your lips together to make you shut up.

"C'mon, John, I know you're holding back for some reason, but we don't have to go all out." Shuffling closer to your boyfriend, you give him those damn doe-eyes he can never say no to. "And I'd love to lend you a hand, if you know what I mean."

John instinctively closes his eyes as your face moves closer, lips eagerly awaiting yours...

...but just when you were about to touch him, he takes a hold of your wrist. "Y/N, I-" he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. "Just- just let me go to the bathroom, okay?"

You frown. Worse, the humiliation makes tears dwell in your eyes. Pushing your partner is wrong, but without context you really start doubting yourself here.

Suddenly the stench of fear was lingering in the air, and your heart starts racing like a hummingbird. Trying to calm yourself was a fruitless attempt in front of a man that could perceive almost anything, even your pathetic strangled sobs.

So he was right: You're afraid and maybe even disgusted by his behavior, and just offered yourself to placate him.

Maybe he should just snap your neck to escape the inevitable heartbreak.

"A-Are you cheating on me?"

"Huh?" That question caught him off guard. He was prepared to hear anything, seriously all kinds of insults or accusations, but that? "Are you dense? Why the fuck would I cheat on you?"

And that's when it dawns on him: You are scared - but not of him.

To your defense, he did have a reputation of not being able to keep it in his pants. Maeve had remarked that fact more than once so you wouldn't forget. And him constantly being swarmed by the prettiest celebrities didn't do any good to your self-esteem either.

You're scared of him leaving you.

"Then what is it?" you sniveled, shrinking into yourself as you hugged your own legs. Seeing you like this and knowing he's responsible was somehow even worse than his earlier apprehensions. "You always react as if you got burned whenever we touch. Did I do something wrong, or- or am I not attractive enough?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John scoffs in an almost irritated tone, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes. Comforting people didn't really come easy to him, even if he hated himself for not being able to let the shielding facade drop just this once. "You're gorgeous and you know that! C'mon, you women are always causing arguments out of thin air. Stop making this about yourself, would y-"

Seeing your glossy eyes turn into a glare at his ramblings made him shut up immediately, but the damage has already been done. "You know what, I'll-" For a while, you sit on the edge of the bed thinking and with every passing second of silence, Homelander's anxiety skyrockets. "I think it's better if I sleep at my own place for a while."

That's exactly what he's talking about, damn it! The line between control and insanity is a thin thread, and he is not willing to take any chances - when it comes to you at least.

"No!" he almost screams at you, jumping up from the bed and pointing a warning finger at you. "You're not going fucking anywhere!" When he sees your wary expression John's eyes soften, instantly regretting his outburst.

Why does he always fuck up? Why can he never seem to keep what makes him happy? Why can't he be what you need?

Homelander buries his face in his hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself just like you taught him. "Look, I-" He reluctantly put his hands on each of your shoulders and when you don't flinch away, he starts rubbing circles on your back. You always do it for him when he's upset, so he figures maybe it can help you too. "Please...I'll tell you the truth, okay? Just...don't leave."

You turn around to face him, nodding mutely as he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. Seeing you cry was gutwrenching, moreso when he was the reason. "I..." he helplessly gestures around, wishing there was a script to this like he was usually provided. "I tend to become...rough."

"So?" The initial hurt now turned into confusion, suspicion even about whether he was telling the truth. You defendingly cross your arms, like a barrier so you wouldn't falter before you got answers.

"I'm not made out of glass." Compared to his strenght, you might as well be. "And I can talk. If you become too wild I'll let you know."

Stubborn as always. But he loved that about you, too. "It's not that easy, Y/N." His head falls in defeat and exasperation. John's about to cry himself, and he hates you seeing him anything less than perfect. "I'll hurt you, and then you'll hate me. Or worse..."

Consciously ignoring the worse part, you cup both sides of his face, making him look up to meet your eyes. "John..."

You straddle his waist again, feeling relief now that you finally understood. Peppering kisses across his face and neck you whisper "I was so, so worried you had grown tired of me..."

"Never." Homelander wasn't someone to apologize often, let alone sincerely. The times he did ever since leaving the lab he can count on one hand.

But despite him being...well, him, John knows best what it's like to be plaqued by insecurities. He hugs you tight enough to make you feel the sincerity of his words. "I only wanted to protect you. I never wanted to make you feel this way."

"Next time talk to me from the start, okay?" You smile softly as he aggrees, and he doubts to be deserving of all your sympathy.

Your hands never leave his body, featherlight touch reassuringly calming his nerves. And yet together with the fact that the only thing currently separating your bodies was your thin panty, it was no wonder that his body reacted the way it did.

A moan disrups your conversation when his cock stiffens again, and you can't help but buck your hips against him in response. Your panties were already soaking anyway, due to the friction and his dirty little deed earlier.

The scent of your lust wipe all negative emotions from your boyfriend's mind, replacing them with something else.

"I want you, John" you breathe against his ear and he whines. "We could just take it slowly..."

"I don't know how" he admits, and you smile at his reluctant aggreement. Gently being shoved down on his back again, it feels like he melts beneathe your fingertips. "Then I'll teach you."

Goosebumps rise on his skin as your fingertips ghost over his body, and you lean over for a longdue kiss, so tender and affectionate John thinks he will fall apart.

Homelander's groan gets swallowed by your lips as you pull your panties aside, slick folds now grinding against his cock. Your name falls from his lips in meek whimpers and you refuse to believe this wonderful man could ever harm you.

"Let me take care of you." Shit, how do you always know exactly what to say?

Raking your hands through your hair as you sit up, air gets stuck in Homelander's throat at the sight, making him choke.

You look fucking magnificent.

Hell, he'd pay an artist to paint you like this so he could look at it forever. If only it didn't require another person seeing you naked...

"You know, I thought it was just my imagination..." A mischievous smile plays on your lips now that you think of it. "But my panties have been disappearing a lot lately."

Your boyfriend didn't respond anything else but a whimmer, shame washing over him at being caught. Not that he was really subtle to begin with.

"Speak up" you tease, giving his shaft a soft squeeze and he instinctively thrusts into your hand like a dog in heat. "Did you use them to get yourself off to your fantasies, huh? Naughty boy." His cock twitches in your palm at the words. "From now on, I want you to come to me for release. Always."

"I trust you" you add as doubt is clearly written on his face, voice firm and as unwavering as your loving eyes, driving tears into his own. You lower yourself on his cock, savouring the feeling of being filled out like this. "Mhh...you feel so good inside of me. Will you behave, John?"

"Y-Yes..." was all he managed to wring out, since it takes every ounce of strenght inside of him to not cum to your sweet affirmations right away. John clutches the bedframe so hard that it crumbles under his grip, but to his surprise you don't wince at the sound - quite the opposite, it shot a wave of heat right through your core.

"John...look at me." You guide his hands away from his eyes to cup your breasts instead, looking at him like he's the best fucking thing in the world. The intensity of your gaze causes him to shiver, makes him wanna hide.

Yes, this is too good to be true.

Whatever you see in him right now he will taint with his own hands given time.

And yet he can't stop anymore, now that he's aware of the depht your love helds for him.

You read him like a damn book, noticing his internal struggle so you silence the voices in his head with a passionate kiss. "So good for me, John" you cheer him on, moving your hips at a low pace.

Tension finally leaves his body and he dives his tongue into your mouth, groaning deeply as he moves his body alongside yours. His touch was careful yet bruising, sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

"I love you, John" you cry out as your foreheads touch, eyes never leaving his. "I love you so damn much!"

That declaration was enough to drive him over the edge.

Homelander pulls you as close as close as humanly possible when he stills momentarily, jackknive-like thrusts chasing after his high. The sounds he made as you got filled up bordered on obscene, as did the amount of cum spilling out of you.

"Shit" he speaks breathlessly against your skin, covering a bitemark he had just caused with kisses. "M'sorry..."

And yet he wasn't willing to let go off of you just yet, this amazing orgasm unable to ward off the embarassment of his poor performance.

"Never apologize for having a good time, silly" you chuckle, brushing your nose against his. "I'm flattered, if anything."

John never knew that sex could be so...satisfying, more than just physically. Filled with carefree laughter instead of expectations.

After all, he was conditioned to never wanna disappoint.

"Nah-a-ah." You yelped as he spun you around effortlessly, now him being the one howering over you, bearing his canines like a starved predator. "I refuse to let my goddess go unworshipped."

"John...I'm okay, really. Sex between lovers is not just about that..." And yet when he opens your legs, you don't resist.

He bets you taste just as fucking good as you smell, feisty little thing. Driving him crazy all those weeks. Do you have any idea how hard it was to endure this sweet torture for your sake?!

A shiver runs down your spine when he licks his lips at the sight of your leaking entrance, taking a deep inhale. There's a hunger in his eyes that no sane person could ever comprehend - but you indulged in it, craved in his twisted kind of love.

Heh, you were a goddamn freak just like him all along, isn't that right?

Homelander takes his time kissing a path down to your navel, admiring the marks he left on your body he was now able to see as the lovebites they are. He briefly looks up to assure himself of your consent, an answering smile all he needs to continue.

"Myyyy tuuuurn" he chants so cheerful, you almost thought he had put on his formal persona.

A relieving finger finally has mercy and slides into your already overstimulated sex, making you arch your back when he curls it inside. Pleads and curses falling from your lips as he enters a second one and then another, and you desperately try to move yourself deeper onto him.

"Attagirl!" Seems like his confidence has returned, at least judging by that damn smug smile his tone indicated. The frustrated pout you wore right now was so adorable, he decided to end your misery and bury his head between your legs as well.

You were still fucking yourself on his fingers while he relished the taste of himself on your pussy, before enveloping your clit with his tongue. "That's my fucking girl right there" he mouths as he ate you out, pumping his fingers keenly on your weak spot he so easily found. "Come on, I want to hear you."

When you came it felt like you were ascending to the afterlife, screaming his name at the top of your lungs before collapsing into the sheets.

Your legs had long since gave out but John put them over his shoulders, humping the mattress while his tongue still ran over your nerve endings, shooting jolts of overwhelming pleasure through your system.

"Oopsie" he coos, a predatory glint in his eyes as he crawled on top of you again, his kiss giving you a taste of your own spent. "Made me hard again."

You eyes flutter open after the last bit of your climax had ebbed out, exhausted yet invitingly batting your lashes as your limbs entangled once again.

"Seems like I found the Homelander's weakness."

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 11

Find the series masterlist

Ace continues to get into trouble. Flirting happens.

Warnings: Swearing, flirting, mention of injury, Price needs his own warning label, little bit of kidnapping.

Word count: 1.5k

Landing in Finland didn’t actually help the raging anxiety much. You let Laswell and Captain know to stand down, no further issues, and you’d update them soon. 

And then you booked a hotel room and took a very long, very hot shower. 

Your phone was ringing by the time you got out, and you grumbled to yourself. Captain. “Yes?”

“What’s your status?” 

“Secure,” you said after a moment, frowning just a little. That was a new tone from him. 

“And your delay?”

“A non-issue. Just a little miscommunication is all.” 

Captain was silent for a few moments. “Send me coordinates for the drop point.” And then he hung up.

You stared at your phone. Was he… upset? With you? For what? You hadn’t done anything wrong. 

But you did send him coordinates and a time. Tomorrow. Because there was no way you were going anywhere else tonight. 

Some gentle prodding at your side showed you were still healing well. You’d probably have a scar from this, but better a scar than to be dead. 

But you managed to sleep, at least. Which was honestly a relief. 

You made it to the drop point early. As always. You settled on a bench, pretending to read a book and people-watch. 

Even though you were expecting him, you still startled a little when a body dropped down next to you.

“Status?” Captain asked, voice low, a thread of concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, only a little snippy. “Here.” You held out the USB to him.

But he didn’t take it right away, frowning at you, gaze sweeping over you in a clear visual check. “What happened?” 

You blinked at him. “Does it matter? I’m here, I’m fine, I’ve got stuff for you.”

He took the USB but his fingers closed over your hand, trapping the drive between you. “What happened?”

You stared at him, eyes wide. Your heart was beating far too fast for the situation. “Nothing really happened,” you said weakly, confused. “Captain… what are you worried about?” A sudden thought had your heart clenching in pain. “Thought you gave up on the accusations?”

“That’s not what this is about.” His frown deepened and he shifted closer to you, the line of his jaw tense. “You went silent for hours and rerouted your flight without explanation.” 

You floundered, just a little. Because that? That was not an accusation. That was something worse. Concern. “I–Captain, I’m fine. Nothing happened. It was just…” You trailed off. You could lie, could come up with something convincing. Something that he wouldn’t be able to verify. Because your clients were none of his concern. 

Except that this client might also be a lead into the ultranationalist group, and that seemed like the kind of information Captain might need to know. If you really wanted to try this whole playing nice thing. 

So you breathed out slowly, bringing your free hand up to rub your eyes. You were tired. Moreso than you should be, really. You blamed the situation. 

“It was a potential new client,” you answered, not looking at him, fingers still pressed into your eyes until stars burst against the dark of your eyelids. “Knew me from Sergio, but didn’t have my contact information. Either didn’t ask Sergio or didn’t want him to know. I’ll find out which.” Another slow breath in. “Normally I would not be telling you this, because my business is not yours, but. He paid me with a check that rerouted to a shell company, one of the ones that I noted.” You shrugged a little, finally lowering your hand, though you still refused to look at him. “I was going to get more solid information first, but you rather forced my hand.” 

Captain was silent for several moments, keeping your hand captured. Then he sighed. “Ace.” 

You glanced at him almost without meaning to, gauging his reaction. But his expression was carefully neutral. 

“I’d prefer if you keep me in the loop on this one. Even if you don’t have solid intel.” He held your gaze easily, blue holding steady but no less intense. 

“Understood.” You managed to crack a smile. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

He scoffed softly but finally released your hand, keeping the USB. “Password?” 

“Reliant.” You smirked a little, still not quite normal but getting there. 

He grunted once in acknowledgement. “Get some food, you look bloody awful.”

The laugh felt punched out of you, almost painful. “Flatterer,” you said without any malice. “You offering?” 

He was silent and still next to you for just long enough that your heart tripped into high gear. Then he chuckled. “Maybe next time, Ace.” 

It was a surprisingly gentle let down, and you left it at that. You stood first and turned away.

Only to stop when a hand wrapped around your wrist. 

“Thank you.” 

You turned slowly to look at Captain, the two words far too sincere to ignore. You honestly had no idea what to do, just staring at him for a moment, before you nodded once. 

You were quick to leave as soon as he released you, heart pounding, head reeling. 

This… had not been the plan. This had not even been anywhere near the plan. 

But he wasn’t wrong. You needed food. And sleep. You could figure out the rest after that. 

Good food was easy to find in Finland, and your hotel was comfortable. You took the rest of the day to get your head on straight and rest up. And also to put out a few emails to some contacts, because you wanted White to give you more information. You doubted he’d be a good source, but maybe you could put a few things together. Maybe it would help. 

Or maybe you’d finally get in too deep and end up where you always suspected you would - an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. 

Grimacing at the macabre turn of your own thoughts, you shook yourself and turned on the news for background noise. 

Captain was becoming a distraction. And that was a problem. One you wouldn’t abide. You had too much going on to have him distracting you. 

How to get Laswell to agree, though, was another problem entirely. One that you decided to sleep on. 

Honestly, you meant to talk to Laswell. You did. But you got sidetracked with getting contact information to three of your contacts, and their information to White. Then you had a call from Valeria where you had to dance around an invitation. Then there was the call from a contact of yours who had gotten himself into trouble and asked you for help back out of it… You got busy. 

You were going to deal with him. Eventually. 

Just… Not right now. 

The first text check in was easy to brush off. He’d just asked for status. You just said “busy”. 

That got you two more days of denial and research. Tracking down shell corporations and tracing payments took time.

The second check in was harder to ignore.

Need an ETA.

You grimaced down at your phone, then at your laptop. You had information you could give him, sure, but not as much as you wanted. You had nothing new on White, no new major movements. In your eyes, it wasn’t worth the time to arrange a drop for this. 

Few more days. Chasing down some leads. 

That was… close enough. And gave you enough time to do more digging, put some pressure on some people. 

At least, that was the plan.

That plan very much went to shit when you went out to get some food. You’d gotten half a dozen steps outside your hotel when two men fell in step with you, one on each side. 

“Stay quiet and no one gets hurt,” one of them murmured, low and threatening. You could just see the flash of a pistol under his jacket, pointed at you. 

“May I ask where we’re going?” But you made sure to keep your voice quiet and pleasant. You really didn’t want to get shot again. Laswell would never let you live it down. 

“You can ask.” There was no humor in his voice, but he didn’t make any threatening moves, either. “This way.” He turned down a street, and you followed. He walked a few more blocks to a black van and pulled open the back door. You went in without prompting, shoulders tense. 

This was very much not good. 

The other one pulled a bag over your head, and you sat still and compliant. You had absolutely no desire to get thrown around over this. You needed your head clear to get out of whatever mess this was.

[espionn]

RainWing tribe sheet!

honestly i'm not 100% sure i like this sheet visually. its ok but not my best. i do like my more in-depth headcanon stuff for rainwings, though, so i hope people like it anyway!

fyi the next few tribes are giving me a bit of trouble so i might post these a little slower, but i still plan to get out all 10 tribes!! they just might be more than a few days apart.

Physical Appearance + Traits:

-RainWings live in the dense and tropical rainforest. Similarly to chameleons, they have prehensile tails and claws well-adapted to cling to branches; and, most strikingly, their coloration can be changed at will, to any color under the sun. This can be used for perfect and uncanny camouflage, for intimidation, for beauty and expression, and to communicate emotions. (Below is a chart of emotions corresponding with their colors; note, though, that they can be combined with each other, and patterned, to mean slightly different and more complex things.)

-Like birds of paradise, they are fond of bright and bold colors, but when they want they can also make themselves virtually undetectable. What exactly this skill is used for depends on the period of history; showing off, playing hide-and-seek, hunting, silent warfare.

-RainWings also have fangs that can be used to expel “venom” - called such for lack of a better word. It does not need to be injected to be deadly, unlike most venom, and rather seems to have a burning, warping and generally destructive effect on cells upon contact. Whether it is deadly depends on the level and location of exposure.

-Neck, chest and sometimes tail frills are used for expression and dance; the floatiness of these frills, and their color-changing abilities, make them hypnotizing. Neck ruffs in particular are commonly used for communication: perked up to show curiosity, drooping to show discomfort or sadness, and flared to show anger and to intimidate. 

-Their fifth claw - the dew claw - is larger and more opposable than those of other tribes, more like a human thumb. This, and their extra (and also more dextrous) wing claw, lets them climb and cling to trees with swiftness and ease. It also makes it easier to use tools, and crack open fruits and nuts, while keeping themselves steady and balanced. 

Life Cycle:

-RainWings are typically laid in clutches of 4-9 eggs. They take the longest of any tribe to develop within the egg; they incubate for nearly half a year, and still are hatched with pale and dull colors. As they grow, though, they get better control over their color-changing abilities through play under the watch of the rest of the tribe.

-RainWings do not form partnerships at all, and rarely mate with the same dragon twice. They also do not raise dragonets on their own; all dragonets are raised communally by the wider tribe. RainWings make friends and have positive relationships, but the idea of parental or romantic relationships are odd to the vast majority of them. Romantic partnerships are not completely unheard of, but they’re seen as unusual.

-Dragonets are naturally playful and learn to harness their abilities through games and competitions. This, though other tribes scoff at it, is quite effective, and other than a lack of structure and discipline in certain eras depending on the queen, RainWings are not less powerful than any other tribes, through nature or nurture. 

-The oldest they usually live is to 90 -100. It's uncommon to go much longer than that, which makes RainWings one of the shorter-lived tribes. Old RainWings tend to live together in their own communities within the tribe, and likewise, younger RainWings prefer each other's company. These boundaries aren't strict, but social norms expect dragons to generally stick to their age groups.

Society and Culture:

-RainWings’ societal structure has varied through time. Their ranged venom and near-invisibility makes them excellent assassins and spies, and several times in history they have been organized or hired in this way. Their nature, though, tends to be easygoing and nonviolent on the whole, and their culture tends to drift in that direction in the absence of external pressure. 

-RainWings are social dragons, and while they do not have a particularly ranked and organized society structure, like SeaWings, their social and personal dynamics are complex and important. Popular and well-liked RainWings are more successful in their tribe than those who are disliked and outcast. Their emotions are very openly communicated, and the idea of hiding thoughts and feelings is strange to them. That isn’t to say they lack subtlety and tact, but they rarely try to suppress their natural scale fluctuations. 

-A lot of RainWing culture rests on colors. They use colors to communicate and associate objects with different emotions based on their color. They sometimes set distinct color palettes in order to appear a certain way in front of others, but some level of fluctuation is impossible to avoid.

-RainWings are the only tribe that has no written language. They are completely illiterate not out of laziness or inability, but because historically they have never had need for communication that isn’t direct and in the present. Their visual signals are so complex that they might be called a crude type of sign language, less refined than Aquatic but not entirely dissimilar, but the only RainWings taught to read and write are those involved in diplomacy or other inter-tribe interactions where it may be necessary. For their own tribe affairs, verbal communication is all they need.

-One of the ultimate staples of RainWing culture is performance - theater and dance. Their dances, often synchronized, with their agile bodies, floating frills and shifting colors, are famously breathtaking and mesmerizing. There was a time when RainWing dancers would travel and perform for different tribes, and dragons scrambled to watch them. For RainWings themselves, though, the performances take on their own meanings, as emotional expression comes through in the colors and some dances tell elaborate stories through these visual cues. Silent theater, similarly, relies on color to tell stories, and these shows aren’t as popular among other tribes simply because other dragons can’t fully comprehend the meanings of different scenes.

-RainWings don’t use facial expressions much, because their scales are so adept at showing emotion, and sometimes that causes communication issues with dragons from other tribes. Similarly, they struggle to separate different tribes from their color associations; for example, it’s hard to get over the subconscious assumptions that all SkyWings are angry, all IceWings are in pain/distress, and all NightWings are constantly overflowing with rage and hatred. (@puzzled-pegasus inspired this one - hope you don’t mind me adopting it!)

-Sleep schedules are loose to non-existent, best compared to that of cats; RainWings generally sleep at midnight and midday, and are awake at dawn and dusk, but short naps throughout the day are considered normal and acceptable.

-Because of the diversity of plant life in the rainforest, RainWings have a more in-depth knowledge of toxins and medicines than any other tribe, and their medics can cure a vast number of ailments. They also have access to - and use - a great variety of stimulants and hallucinogens, usually in a festive or celebratory context.

Diet: Selectively herbivorous. RainWings can eat meat, and sometimes do, but generally they prefer to put time and energy toward gathering rather than hunting. They eat just about every type of fruit under the sun, having adapted to a high-glucose and low-protein diet, and their dishes are elaborate and flavorful with spices and sweeteners; just about every other tribe that eats plants is happy to invite RainWing fruit merchants into their towns. RainWings were also the first Pyrrhian tribe to produce chocolate.

[misculenica]

Expressions + Mannerisms (part 2)

By semi-popular demand, another analysis of Solas and his expressions :)

For all you fanfiction writers and solavellans!

I would like to state, for the record, a lot of what I say/have said is purely my own personal interpretations and understandings, and by no means should you take my word as gospel here. This is just some fun :)

I stated in a previous post (I shall call 'Part 1' for simplicity) how Solas has 2 expressions; his 'in the moment' expressions, in which his true feelings are on display, and his 'in character' expressions, in which he's very much putting on a persona.

If you're in solavellan hell, have some hyperfixation-tendencies and/or unresolved feelings towards a specific fictional character (like myself), you'll probably be able to tell the difference between these 2 expressive states of his.

Allow me to elaborate ;)

Solas, In the Moment "when he's honest/caught off-guard/not 'in character'"

Solas clearly has trouble with lying; he's rather terrible at it. I would go so far as to say he only ever lies to you once in the entire game (lying outright, I mean); and it is after the Winter Palace;

"You miss court intrigue... When were you at court?"

"Oh. Well, never... Directly, of course." <- big stuttering liar.

He can't lie worth a damn, but he's by no means honest; he's manipulative, deceptive and sly. I believe I heard someone describe him once as having a 'malicious compliance with/towards the truth'.

I believe his expressions, as well as mannerisms, follow this mentality.

I'll show you several images/scenes in which I believe Solas is being honest/showing himself without his guard up. (And in 2. Solas, In Character, I will show you the contrast).

This one will be hard to show without gifs (which I'm clueless on how to create, forgive me);

A. He blinks a lot, very a-rhythmic.

B. He gets this look about him, and I don't know how to describe it, beyond "'scuse me?" (the long face gets longer, shrug)

Genuinely surprised:

C. He looks very deep in thought/far away - and sad (this man needs some therapy) this is the face he makes when he knows no-one can see him (I'll make a part 3 going into these comparatives of 'you can see me'/'you can't see me');

No ones looking, it's okay (it's not, but whatever) face :

D. He just looks sad when he's being quiet/honest/not putting on some bravado/persona. (You know how 'resting bitch face' is a thing? This man has a resting depressed face, and i think it has to do with the tragedy - he practically embodies philosophical pessimism)

Acceptance/I don't see a way forward/I need a break face:

E. He has the softest look about him when he's touched/shown affection (yes these are all from the dream-kiss scene) (bless my poor solavellan heart)

Yes, I like to be held, please kiss me on my face face:

F. Smug face... He has a smug face (to be fair, this is literally him revealing he has complete control over when you're awake/asleep... and much more, given the context of Tevinter Nights - idk this face always creeped me out actually XD like i knoooow this guy could fuck me up if he wanted)

"It's my world, you're all just living in it" face:

G. He fidgets a lot when it's just him, or he's talking to you honestly. Like he always has to be doing something with his hands. (I noticed he doesn't do it when he's in groups, or with others) - not a facial expression but I thought it was interesting behaviour. In fact, his movements in general increase a lot - he fidgeted, he sways, he wobbles, he gestures, moves his head a lot. (Just watch all of his personal quest, you'll see what I mean). (He also does this when you first meet him, but I chalk it up to he's just super excited that you're not dead and finally you can fix his mess - since he was 100% sure you'd be dead and he was ready to bolt with his 'i didn't say it was a good plan' plan)

At the risk of just listing typically behaviour in people with certain emotions, I'll move on to his 'in character' part.

2. Solas, In Character.

A. He blinks rhythmically, every like... 5/6 seconds?? (yeah, I know... I do have a hobby besides this stuff i swear XD i just like this egg). It's soothing, like a heartbeat. The blinking just always stood out to me with his character, idk.

B. He smiles a lot, but I can't tell if I know who he is and what he's doing, and that's clouding my vision, but it feels very much like a job interview kind of smile. Like, every split second it falters just a bit.

This man just doesn't want to smile (though, I suppose this is early in game when he's very much 'these aren't people' 'oh i have to pretend really hard rn'

C. He stands pretty damn still and stiff - if he's doing this i'm 99% sure he's being manipulative with you, sometimes the only movements he has in a scene is him blinking, perhaps glancing sideways. - think just before the journey to skyhold when he gives you a talk about the orb and how you need to prove yourself - he's in 110% manipulative mode

The trouble with Solas is, he doesn't have many tells - but the ones he does have are big. And, without delving into scenes as they stand, I'd have a hard time expressing this.

But I will leave you with my favourite expression-transition in the entire game.

How he goes from optimism/pride when standing beside Inky, to when the figure passes him, his expression becomes so serious/foreboding. I love it so much.

And I once again want to mention how much I just adore the little details of animation, from eye movement, skin twitches, or full on bodily movement. - especially for a character I adore. It's beautiful to look at, especially as someone who studied animation (absolutely wasted degree on me, I swear) and gets very attached to fictional characters (particularly ones as complicated as the dread egg).

In future parts, provided I get flycam to work on my pc - I'll be able to go through scenes of the egg to give him a bit more of an in-depth view (with gifs and whatnot, can you imagine?).

[grave-queen-jakrabitt]

Okay so something has changed in my brain because of wrestling and I need to ramble about it. As someone who’s had some trouble being able to understand a lot of plutonic affection (and still do it’s a work in progress tbh) I don’t really ship the people I’m about to talk about because honestly shipping real people makes me severely uncomfortable for personal reasons

But I came upon a wrestling rivalry that made me understand plutonic relationships a little better. Ilja Dragunov vs Cara Noir. If you’d allow me I’d like to walk you through what I took away from each particular match

The first match: I think from the entrances it’s clear that nobody really knows what to expect, even Cara and ilja themselves. Dragunov as always was a force of pure raging passion, then there’s a switch to pure bewilderment as swan lake begins and Cara comes out. The wrestling is good because how could it not be? It feels like two irresistible forces being pulled towards each other. This was the beginning of something great

Point ilja

The second match

Cara’s red eye makeup and ilja’s reaction make me so happy, the hand holding into almost unwilling violence from ilja. where the first match was a little more restrained and and reserved they’ve learned from the first encounter. Cara picked up the violence the long feeling out sequence switched out for an immediate swan woo dropkick. One of my favorite things was the finish. up to this point Cara knew that the torpedo Moscow would mean death, then it comes….and it’s countered into the blackout and it works also the fucking forehead kiss

Point Cara

The 2/3 falls match

Oh my fucking god Cara’s reaction to ilja wearing paint, him pointing to his face like “you did that for me huh?” To the god damn distress over ilja tapping out over nothing. It’s the fact that the black swan wanted to make a masterpiece, and the only person that gets him gave up so fast seemingly for him. It was a move to get the upper hand, torpedo Moscow, second point ilja. At one point they kiss. As if to say the first two falls meant nothing it went to sudden death, it had to be it could never be anything else. This was a rivalry born of two people that have to give everything to their art, they have to destroy themselves for their art and there’s nobody they’d rather do it with. Cara pulls out the win

Point Cara

10th anniversary show

5 days after Cara lost the title ilja returns, he returns an all conquering champion from nxt uk. But above all else the mad dragon returns FOR the black swan. From the jump this match is different obviously Cara got his shit rocked so this basically functions as therapy. It’s not easy to watch at first cause it’s a one sided beating. This is not who ilja came back for, this is not the black swan then it happens. A torpedo Moscow, a kickout, Cara gets up. The headbutt that never seems to work on ilja gets a little distance, both of them are rocked and it starts picking back up into normality for these two. But at this point ilja just doesn’t want to follow through with what has to be done, he knows Cara can’t be put down humanely, he refuses to stay down, so yet again the torpedo Moscow nearly takes out Cara, but dragunov knows better, a second just in case. It’s over, it had to happen but it pained him nonetheless. Ilja dragunov wins. There’s a kind of love between them I don’t think anyone else could relate to. It’s not romantic but I think it’s somewhere beyond plutonic. I can’t express to you why but this is how I feel about wrestling in general.

I feel like this is RVD vs Jerry Lynn for a new generation with a kinda twist. The RVD Jerry Lynn rivalry was kinda based on iterating on some of the move sequences and basically learning each other’s favorite moves to counter. And noir dragunov does have this (in the form of the torpedo Moscow being Ilja’s biggest weapon the thing to put Cara down nearly every time, the hand holding into neck chops, the kisses, torpedo into blackout.) but I think more so it’s philosophical. This militaristic Russian whose passion is violence, an indestructible tank of a human being pulled towards someone more theatrical, sure Cara can do strong style but it’s more ilja’s thing. you can tell he’s putting all his unbridled passion into in ring stuff and the entrance BELONGS to Cara noir and as it goes on they seem to take more from each other

[themysteriousauthor18]

PT. 2

“Good morning New Orleans! I do hope you all are having a lovely morning. I'm your host, Alastor. And I do thank you for tuning in my dears. Well be talking here in just a moment. But first to today's weather-”

The radio hosts voice is drowned out by a loud girlish scream, followed by the sound of broken glass. The little girl who had been sitting on the couch jumps. She stares at the closed door with trepidation. “Daddy?” She calls, unmoving.

There's another crash, followed by that same girlish yelp. The child slides off the couch. She walks towards the door. Before she can get too close the door swings open almost smacking her. She stumbled back.

There's a sudden high pitched loud beeping.

A ploom of white smoke floods out of the kitchen.

A small white man with short blonde hair stumbled out of the kitchen. He was coughing and waving his hand trying to dissipate the smoke.

It took a moment for the man to notice the child. When he does, his grumpy expression changes like a switch. In an instant he's cheery. “Char char!”

She looks at her father. “Did daddy burn breakfast?”

“What? Haha noooo. No no noooo.” He scoops up his daughter. Briskly walking away from the kitchen. “Let's go out kiddo.”

“Daddies a bad cook.” She laughs.

Lucifer is severely wounded.

Lucifer morning star. One of the elite. Someone apart of the high class society. He was rich, handsome, very very very tall for sure! He had it all. Riches, fame, his adorable daughter Charlie! Yes he had everything he could ever want.

Except for Lilith.

But hey! At least he had a cozy lifestyle. Rich beyond belief. That's exactly why Charlie and him were currently eating at a small diner. Hey, kids eat for free on Mondays! And the place was much more relaxing than high society restaurants.

Okay, maybe everything wasn't perfect. But, at least he had Charlie. That's all that really mattered to him.

“Welcome back sir.” The waitress greeted him as he slid into the booth. Charlie was already settled across from him in a booster seat.

“Hey! What's up!” wait to friendly! “Uh erm I mean, hello.” He waved. Perfect.

The waitress gave him a polite smile. He wasn't sure if her greeting was because of his status in the French Quarter, or because this was the 5th day in a row he and Charlie were in here.

It was honestly getting a little embarrassing.

“Back again hm?” Okay yeah it wasn't the status.

“Daddy burned breakfast again.”

Lucifer wanted to hide.

The waitress just chuckled, politely. She’s a short black plump southern woman with a strong twang to her voice. Truth be told, Lucifer doesn't mind her so much. For the other times they had been in here and then now, they often got this waitress. Which shouldn’t be a big surprise, given that the diner is rather small and likely understaffed. Still, she's warm and kind.

Her name was displayed on her shirt. It said Millie. Not that Lucifer really needed the tag to know her name by this point with how much they frequented this diner.

Millie hands him the menu and Charlie a child version of it. “Coffee for the Lord again?”

Lucifer smiles nervously. Trying to hide his embarrassment. “Y-yeah. If it's no trouble” He fails. Of course it wouldn’t be any trouble, it's her job.

The waitress isn't mean about it though, she turns to Charlie. “And let me guess you want apple juice again, little princess.”

“I want chocolate milk today.” Charlie states like she's thought about this her whole life. Which isn't long given she's only six.

“Oh? Switchin it up on me today? Okaaay.” She's amused. “I'll be right back.”

Once she brings them their drinks, the short waitress leaves them to ponder their orders. Well, Charlie already knows what she wants. Pancakes. Because she's been saying that on the way over. Yes that's what those black discs currently sitting in the trash at home were supposed to be.

Lucifer on the other hand doesn't have his mind on food. He hardly does lately. He'd forget to eat if not for Charlie.

While Charlie is coloring in her menu, Lucifer stares into the brown abyss that is his coffee cup.

The glint of the golden band around his finger catches his gaze as it flickered off the Sun's morning razes. Lucifer frowns.

I wonder what she's doing right now. He stares a moment longer. Does she miss me? Lucifer checks his phone. Nothing. Of course. No, you're being stupid. It's been this long, why would she contact you now?

He sighs. Pulling at his hair in an effort to stop thinking.

“Welcome back dear listener's!”

Lucifer jumps enough to hit his knee on the table. He gets several looks for it.

“Sorry! Uh.. Bumped the table.” He pats the table. Why does he pat the table?

The radio seems to save him further public humiliation.

“This next song goes out to my dear mother. Quite the favorite of hers.”

The radio host starts singing a jazzy song. His voice is low and tumblr. It flows well with the fast paced jazz, his pitch moving up and down when needed.

He looks over to find Charlie lip singing to the song. Using her crayon as a mic.

He smiles.

Lucifer joins in, and he doesn't care much about the looks he's given.

Honestly, without Charlie he would probably have been swallowed by his thoughts long ago.

Once the pair of them eat some real food and not burnt discs. Charlie demands to go to the library. Lucifer doesn't understand if a six year old having a love for books is normal. Is it abnormal? Should he call Bee and ask her? Is he hurting Charlie's brain by letting her read books?

Maybe she likes reading because he has a stack of how to parent books on his desk at home. Volume 1-10. He's currently on volume 7…it's not weird.

“Daddy look!” Charlie says running up the several stairs leading to the front of the library. Its a large enough building with two levels. Lucifer tries not to tumble over while holding the small stack of books in his arms.

“Charlie dear, slow down! Wait for daddy.”

He moves a little faster, almost dropping a book. When he gets to the top and peers around his stack of books, Charlie is standing by one of the statues at the front of the library. A big stone lion. He’s - for whatever reason - petting it. “Look at the kitty! Isn’t he cute!”

Lucifer looks at the stone lion. Its a male lion with its female counterpart on his left. He chuckled, “Yeah, he’s adorable. But uh, lets head inside and you can pet the lion on our way out. Okay?”

She turns to him, no less bright or excited. “Okay!” She runs ahead.

“Charlie, wait.”

She pauses at the door, Charlie reaches up and yanks it open for her father. “Thank you honey.”

“Your welcome daddy.” They walk to the front counter and return the books. “Let's go look at some books over here and then will go to the kid section, okay?” Lucifer asks his daughter, pointing to one of the sections near the back of the library. Among a wall of bookshelves. The children's section isn’t anything new to either of them nor hard to miss. As it's to the left side of the library and adorned with a colorful area of plastic chairs, beanbags and tables for the kids. But Lucifer always liked to keep Charlie close.

“Okay.” She smiles and Lucifer takes her hand in his. They walk to the adult section near the mystery genre. Lucifer is a bit of a picky reader and he doesn’t take out a lot of books for personal interest. Most of them are for cooking or more or less advice books that help him with Charlie. But sometimes he likes to browse the sections and see if he can find something he enjoys. As picky a reader as he is, when he does find one he likes he can hardly put it down. Plus, reading something he enjoys transports him to another world. Something he desperately needs some days.

Lucifer runs his index along the different titles. Pulling out a book occasionally when the title interests him. Then glancing at the summary on the back. However he doesn’t find one he likes yet. He takes longer than Charlie would have liked or so it seems. Because she tugs on his arm after several minutes. “Yeah duckling?”

“Can I go look at the books down there?” Charlie points to the bookcase behind them but further down. Its the teen section for the mystery genre. Lucifer is certain Charlie can’t read those yet due to her reading level. But thinks she’s bored and more interested in looking at the pictures in the books or the covers. Nonetheless, its within his eyeview.

So Lucifer nods. “Yeah, but don’t go too far.”

“Okay.” She says letting go of his hand. Lucifer watches her for a moment to make sure she doesn’t run off. When she simply walks down the bookshelf starts looking at the covers - as he suspected - Lucifer feels comfortable enough to go back to his searching.

A few more minutes pass and Lucifer sighs, having given up. He’s not sure why but all these novels feel so predictable to him. Occasionally he flips to the first few pages, skimming them and he can already tell who is going to be the big bad. Or who is the killer. As if to prove it he would flip to the end only to be proven right. The tropes - for him at least - are just a little too predictable. But maybe growing up reading has made him something of a snobby reader. It’s fine, he’s not a critic and he’s sure he’ll find another good read another time. But he doesn’t want to stand there all day and bore Charlie.

Lucifer hums, seeing one more title. He plucks it from the shelf and begins skimming the summary on the back. Hm, this one’s a tad more interesting looking? Although it looks less mystery and more fantasy? Is this book in the right section? There’s a red-haired sourcer on the cover and he’s standing in front of a blonde-haired woman and her baby in a protective manner. Holding up his staff. This looks like it should be in fantasy. Unless it can be mixed genres? Of course it can but…ugh this is pointless. Regardless the book looks like something more Charlie would enjoy then him. Pass.

“Thank you.” Lucifer suddenly comes out of his thoughts at the voice. That radio host again? He glances around for a radio. He didn't think there was one in here.

However, those thoughts immediately go away as another more pressing one takes its place.

Where is Charlie?!

Lucifer suddenly darts out from the shelves. Panic rising in his chest. “Charlie!” He darts around poking his head into an isle “Charlie! Honey, where did you go!” He's ignoring the annoyed looks. Whirling out of the isle and into an opening with shelves stacked against the wall.

Lucifer's eyes find her immediately. Her blonde hair abd overalls makes her stand out. She's near the horror section and she's tugging on a man's shirt. He looks startled and confused.

“Um.. Hello, little one.”

“It is you!”

Lucifer rushes over mortified.

“It's you, I knew it!”

“Charlie!” He shouts and she looks at him immediately letting go. Lucifer has never grabbed his daughter so quickly. He takes her in his arms, stepping back. By the time he looks at the man an apology is already spilling out. “I am so so so SO sorry sir!”

However the man's already fixing his shirt. A polite yet friendly smile on his lips. He lets out a chuckle as he responds, “it's quite alright.”

“Dad, dad, it's the radio man!’ She’s pointing excitedly.

Lucifer looked at the man in question. Now that Charlie was safely accounted for, and in his arms. He took a moment to properly take in the gentleman before him.

He was a young looking guy, he looked around his own age probably somewhere in his 20’s . He was definitely mixed with something, or Hispanic judging by his light brown skin tone. A pair of dark brown eyes peered at him behind round frames. The guy was also annoyingly tall. But not by much - maybe 2 feet above him at most…surely…But it was already too tall. However amongst everything two things stood out to him about the man.

One, that he was dressed smartly. Meaning he was wearing black slacks and a buttoned up red vest over a white button down. Much more refined than the rest of the people's attire here. Even making his plane pink button down look sloppy in comparison.

The second was his hair.

He noticed its color. It was a bright red. That was the most eye-catching thing about the man. That paired with his darker skin tone. Well… his appearance alone practically demanded anyone's eyes when he walked into a room.

His hair was short at the nape of his neck. It was longer on top, combed and styled so his bangs laid on the left side of his face.

He was definitely interesting looking.

Lucifer realized he was staring and immediately stopped. Hoping the man didn't notice. Instead he turned to Charlie who was squirming in his arms. “Charlie, honey, you can't run off like that.” He scolded..in the nicest way possible. He turned back to the man. Who was watching them curiously. “Again, I am so sorry. My daughter- she's a huge fan of you- like- I mean HUGE. And she just got really excited when she saw you because-”

“It's okay.” Alastor laughs, “I always appreciate meeting one of my fans.” Charlie finally manages to squirm out of Lucifer’s grasp and heads towards Alastor again - against Lucifer’s silent protests. Before she can get too close, Alastor kneels down and gives her a pat on the head. This emitted a wide grin from the child. “I love hearing you on the radio, Mr. Radio Man! Daddy puts the radio on your station every morning!”

“Just call me Alastor, dear.” Still kneeling at her level he offers one of his hands. “And what's your name, little lady?”

“I'm Charlie!” She exclaims, giving a jump of excitement as she proudly proclaims her name. She puts both of her tiny hands and places them in Alastor’s outstretched hand. The man tries to gently shake her hand so as not to hurt her, but this fails when Charlie excitedly and violently shakes his instead.

“That's enough, honey.” Lucifer quickly interjects.

Alastor chuckles - for a second Lucifer thinks it's an awkward one. Surely not; he's probably interacted with hundreds of his fans. He lets go of her hand before she can shake his anymore.“Now don’t hurt yourself, little lady.”

Lucifer clears his throat, causing both heads to turn towards him. “Uh- Charlie, dear- uh.. We should be on our way now. I'm sure Mr. Alastor has a busy schedule; he can't spend all day with you.” He chided.

Charlie pouts but doesn't refuse to listen.

“Unfortunately your father is right.” Alastor stands up, his eyes narrow on Lucifer. “I don’t believe I got your name?” He says, looking at Lucifer.

Lucifer is a little surprised that Alastor doesn’t already know who he is. Not for anything out of pride but because usually people already know who he is. But maybe he’s just being coy. “Uh, Lucifer…morningstar.” He hesitates to say his last name. He’s unsure if he is still allowed to say it.If he wants to.

Alastor hums, “ah so you're our little angel from above.” Lucifer looks at him perturbed. “The only one out of the morning stars who enjoys helping.” He says it lightly, keeping in mind Charlie is present.

Lucifer deflates on the inside but he puts on his usual sunny disposition. If for Charlie’s sake. “Yep! that's uh- that's me. I’m Lucifer morningstar.” Why does he say his name again?

“Well my lord,” Alastor extends a hand towards him. He waits for Lucifer to take it, he does after a moment. “It's a pleasure to meet you in person after all I’ve heard of you.” Alastor shakes his hand curtly in a tight firm grip. Lucifer’s own is weak and flimsy at best. Alastor lets go.

“Oh- you- you’ve heard things about me? Um..” he glances at Charlie.

Alastor catches the look. “Only good things.” He lies. “Nonetheless it's a pleasure to have met you and your daughter. And I thank you for listening to my radio show.”

“I love your singing!” Charlie says with a grin.

Alastor looks down at her, “thank you. I enjoy singing, especially for fans like you.” He makes a show of checking the watch on his wrist. “Well, it was lovely meeting you two. But I must be on my way.” Alastor says politely, giving them a wave and walking towards the exit.

He watched the man go. It was strange, he'd been listening to this man's show for a few years. More for Charlie sake. But it was weird to finally put a face to the voice. Not that Alastor's face had never been in the public eye. He assumed at least. He had just never bothered to pay attention.

“Come back soon!” Charlie called.

…

While meeting New Orleans highly regarded radio host was…interesting. Lucifer didn’t find anything particularly noteworthy about Alastor. Other than his red hair. But once upon a time he had to handle that same song and dance. In his case, going to high class balls or parties with the intent of meeting people who had an interest in the morningstars. Whether with good or bad intent, he would greet those guests with that same jovial politeness.

So all in all, Alastor didn’t stand out to him. And as Monday reered its ugly head Lucifer had just put it behind him as another out of the blue thing to happen in his mundane life. He would have forgotten about it, if not for Charlie constantly talking about how happy and excited she that she got to meet her idol. It was adorable though and Lucifer definitely won’t complain if his daughter is happy.

But Monday does come.

And Lucifer hates it, but not for the usual reasons people hate Mondays. It's because he's left by himself for eight hours. Being bored out of his mind, with no one to talk to, and constantly struggling to entertain himself.

He goes about his morning as usual. It begins with him walking to the end of the hallway and knocking on Charlie’s door before opening it. She has an alarm set but he makes sure she’s awake anyway. Next he makes a̶ h̶o̶m̶e̶ c̶o̶o̶k̶e̶d̶ b̶r̶e̶a̶k̶f̶a̶s̶t̶… a good ol’ bowl of cereal! And that's their breakfast for the day. Because once Charlie is finished eating he ushers her off to get dressed while he makes sure she has everything packed in her school bag for first grade. It's a public school and the kids have been…okay - a questionable okay - with her. He hasn’t gotten any complaints from the kids or Charlie so he thinks it's okay? Regardless, it's been two weeks since she started 1st grade and he can only hope it continues to go well.

Once Charlie is dressed and Lucifer checks that she has her schoolwork, and her lunch - a sandwich and some fruit - they are out the door at 7:30 and hopping in his car.

Lucifer opens the back door on the passenger side and lifts Charlie into her car seat. He buckles her in - struggling with the straps, as always - and sets her backpack in the middle seat beside her before shutting the door. He walks around to the driver’s side and gets in, starting up the car.

Charlie, still waking up, rubs her eyes and yawns before asking, “daddy, can we listen to the radio man?” Lucifer smiles; her voice always sounds so cute when she's tired. “Of course, sweetie.” He pressed the button on the radio that flipped through his saved radio stations. First was a Kidz Bop station. Charlie really liked listening to that one before she began listening to Alastor.

He pressed the button again and immediately heard Alastor’s voice cut in.

“-oing? I hope all of you lovely listeners out there are doing fantastic today! It's a warm eighty degrees here in new Orleans today, and it looks like it will be another sunny day with no rain. Perfect conditions for some outdoor cooking later today, if I do say so myself!”

The brief thought of asking Charlie if she'd like some barbecue tonight was immediately shut down. He can't even cook an egg, let alone an entire barbecued meal. Maybe I could ask Ozzy one of these days? He's a master on the grill.

As Lucifer went deeper in his thoughts, he realized It felt strange to hear Alastor and know his face and having met him in person. Now he can picture the man sitting at his desk, talking into his microphone.

“Before we continue into another song I'll be taking a few callers for the next twenty minutes. So if you'd like to call into the studio and speak to me nows your chance.”

Charlie instantly started bouncing up and down in her car seat. “Daddy! I wanna call! I wanna talk to the radio man again!”

Lucifer instantly feels guilt; he hates telling Charlie no. "Uh- honey, we need to get you to school. We'll be there within five minutes.”

Charlie sighs. "Pleeeeeease? I'll do my own clothes for the week!”

Lucifer sighs with a defeated smile. "Well, I can't pass up a good bargain. Let me get my phone.” He reaches in his pocket with one hand while keeping one hand on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road. Nothing. He switches his hands around and feels in his other pocket, his expression changing to one of small horror when he realizes it's not there.

Shit..

“I- uh- Charlie? I uh.. I think I forgot my phone at the house.”

He looks in the rearview mirror and immediately sees Charlie’s expression change from joyful to disappointed. “Oh.. Okay..” She replies half-heartedly.

Lucifer frowns, but plasters on a smile before Charlie notices. “Hey, keep your head up.” He tells her with a positive voice, hoping she doesn't hear the guilt behind it. “To make it up to you, we'll be the first people calling the next time that he takes calls. How's that sound?”

Charlie smiles. “Okay.”

They pull into the school and go into the line of cars where people are unloading their kids. He sighs and hits his head on the steering wheel. They really need to start leaving sooner. The car line is always the busiest between 7:30 and 7:45. Lucifer’s hands tighten on the wheel and his pulse rises a little. Ugh, the crowds. He taps the wheel while he waits nervously.

After about five minutes, his car is in front of the school. He immediately hops out and unbuckles Charlie’s seatbelt. He lifts her out of her seat and sets her on the ground, then hands her backpack to her. He leans down and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Love you very much, miss you very much, see you this afternoon, bye!” Charlie exclaimed as he stood back up. Lucifer smiles; Charlie had been saying that same thing every morning starting from about halfway through her kindergarten year. He doesn't know when she thought it up, but he likes it. It's simple, sweet, and to the point.

“Tell Vaggie and Emily I said hi!” Lucifer calls out.

“I will!”

Before the other cars behind him start honking, he hops back in his car and pulls out of the school lot. He turns the radio on a generic jazz station, because as nice as it is, he doesn't really want to listen to Alastor’s voice. He wants to get in his own thoughts, and the man’s voice between almost every song distracts him from that.

As the jazz starts to play an all-too-familar song - which Lucifer tries to ignore that fact - he starts thinking: what am I going to do today?

He turns onto the main road, his eyes focusing on the road while his head stays in his thoughts.

The house is looking a bit dirty. It's been a while since I cleaned it. Maybe I could do that today. I miss having the maids around - they were always great company. Especially Mary, she always laughed at my silly jokes. And I miss having help from Lil-...

Lucifer shakes his head before the thought can fester. No; she's a thing of the past. He needs to keep it that way. Focus on what to do today.

Yeah. Clean the house today. Maybe I can call Ozzy or Bee to keep me company. If they're not too busy, of course. I don't wanna trouble them.

Before he knows it, Lucifer pulls up to his house and turns into the driveway. The house isn't bad. He actually prefers it over the mansion he used to live in. His house is a two story blue house. The neighborhood is nice and well taken care of, but he doesn't like the neighbors much. Sure, they're friendly but their judgy nature reminds him too much of his…

…family.

It doesn't feel like the right word to describe them.

He sighs and walks up the stone path to his door. When he enters, the house is quiet. Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be quiet? Since he's the only one here. He shutters, hating how big and hollow the home feels without Charlie in it. How all the warmth is zapped from it… how, it reminds him of his room in his fathers mansion.

It was too quiet. Too large. Too empty.

Maybe this was too big of a house for only two people, after all.

He was…honestly lucky. He wouldn't have this home, his car, this neighborhood..if not for his mother. Even when he was disowned, she helped him. Afterall, he was born a Morningstar. And at birth, every morningstar got their percent of that wealth that they could have at eighteen. He had been eighteen. Disowned or not, his mother fought that battle for him, making sure he got his portion of the fortune.

Maybe it would have been smarter financially to settle into a lower income neighborhood. However, those places were always a bit more sketchy. The house may have been a pretty penny, but the neighborhood is safe and taken care of. And that's the kind of place Charlie needs to grow up in.

Mom..

He misses her..a lot.

He shook his head. No. No getting in his head. He should clean.

Maybe I should get some company.. I don't wanna be in my head anymore.

He began looking around for his phone, trying to remember where he'd left it. Right; he'd never even taken it off the charger that morning. He went to his room and sure enough, there it is, sitting in its charger. It’s a Nokia 1011, and they'd been released earlier that year. It cost a bit for him to get it, but he could afford it. So why not? Besides, who knew when he'd need it? Maybe he'd get a job one of these days and need it for communication.

He looks at the notepad next to the charger that has all the numbers of his main contacts written on it….as well as the number of the diner in case he massively screws up dinner again. Which happens more often than he likes to admit.

He looks at the list of names. There aren't a lot on the list. Most of them are about Charlie in some way. Like the number of her doctor, or school. But otherwise, there aren't many. He hums, while he stares at the list. He really needs to rewrite them in alphabetical order. He keeps going down until he sees where it reads, “Ozzy”. There’s a half-hearted doodle next to the name. It's a small sketch of a cat head with sunglasses on. Why a cat? Because Ozzy is cool like a cat. At least that's Lucifer's reasoning. He dials the number written next to it.

It rings once.

Then twice.

Then a third time.

Lucifer starts to think he's too busy right now and debates hanging up. He takes the phone away from his ear just as the line is picked up.

“Yeah?” The deep smooth voice carries through the phone. Lucifer immediately presses the phone back to his ear.

“Ozzy! Ozzster..big dog. My man..” NOPE. “My dude.. Bro..” He cringes “what's uh, what's up? .. Bro?”

A booming laugh comes from the other end. “What up, Lucy? What's happenin’?”

Lucifer laughs nervously. He starts walking around his dining room. “Ohh uh, not much just… doing things. Tons of things. Like uh..” he looks at the window. “Admiring my….lawn?” he slaps himself, dragging his hand down his face. He hears a ‘pft-’ from the other end of the line. “What about you? Your not busy are you? Sorry if you are. I hope I'm not interruping anything.”

“No, of course not! Whatcha need, babe?” Ozzy asks.

Lucifer rubs his neck, and here he goes with the pacing. “Well uh, I.. Charlie's at school and… I was hoping you could-” no don't sound needy “uhhhh…if your not too busy would you mind another cooking lesson? Or… something? Oh- I uh got this tea set from Bee do you-”

Another laugh comes from Ozzy. “If ya’ just want some company, just say somethin’. I don't mind comin’ over. Fizzy’s out doin’ some errands today anyways, so I don't got no plans.”

“Right! Right..” He drags his hand down his face again. “Sorry…uh, yeah. I could use some company if you wouldn't mind?”

“Sure! I'll be over in twenty.” Ozzy replies.

“Okay!” Lucifer's face breaks into a smile. He clears his throat. “Okay” he repeats more calmly. “See you then.”

He sighs, his anxiety dimming.

At least he agreed.

[deathswcrn]

CHEATER'S GUIDE TO SHIPPING WITH MY MUSE

Sometimes it's fun to jump straight to the good stuff with shipping, or see whether two muses might, with the right development, have the makings of a romantic or sexual relationship. This meme outlines several factors about my muse's compatibility that makes 'will they or won't they?' easier.

S E X U A L I T Y

The brass tack basics - who my muse is into in broad strokes and how much.

Mono or Poly: Breina is happily polyamorous and willing to try all manner of arrangements, open or closed.

Sexual orientation: She is pansexual BUT seems to lean closer to a 2 on the Kinsey Scale than she'd probably self-describe.

Romantic orientation: Equally, she is panromantic, except this time it's a dead 3 on the Kinsey Scale.

Libido: She has a high libido and is open to casual sexual encounters.

Adventurousness & kink: She'll try anything once and loves variety. Ask her about the hot sauce thing sometime. She is also switchy and can be put in the mood for dominance or submission, topping or bottoming.

P H Y S I C A L F E A T U R E S

Physical features my muse finds attractive on another person.

Unisex: Breina has two archetypes she finds attractive: Butchness, or refinement.

That means she finds expressions of masculinity attractive regardless of the gender - strength, the scruff of body hair, larger frames (muscular or fat - she'll happily take both). In a dynamic, she is more likely to fall slightly more submissively to this type of person.

On the flipside, again, regardless of gender, there's something that pings her brain about someone she perceives as refined or even delicate in some way. It makes her feel protective, and it leads her to fall into a specific, rather devoted pattern with that person. She will take dominant or submissive roles with this subtype.

Unisex: Slightly older. I don't have an explaination for this one it's just a pattern.

Masculine: Beards are particularly attractive.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Personal characteristics my muse finds attractive in another person.

Dorks: She has a soft spot for people who aren't necessarily all together, or express themselves so earnestly as to make a mockery of social convention. Trying to hide it won't help, she can see right through you, dork.

Passionate: Not about romance, but about some aspect of life. It can be smutty literature, music, magic, literally anything, but she finds someone with a deep well of passion on a subject sexy.

Enabler: She's snarky, she has fun with verbal quips, and she loves having someone who's willing to snark back at her just as intensely. Likewise, left alone, sans stressors, she'll make trouble for herself. Say yes. Help her make trouble. Stand beside her beaming over the tire-fire she leaves in her wake.

Big-hearted and steadfast: Care deeply and stand beside her through thick and thin and she's yours. That's all it honestly takes. It's sort of sad that's all it takes, but it's true.

L I F E A N D R O M A N C E

Sometimes, what you want matters just as much as whether you vibe as people. Sometimes two compatible people are heading for heartbreak because they simply want different things.

Breina is a wanderer at heart. She will settle in one spot, but rarely will she do so for long. Quite often, if she does settle, it's because she's burning out and needs a rest. She's not much of a homebody.

Setting things right. Breina intends to return to Magnus and kill him, liberating the town she was born in. She cannot stay there permenantly, but she does want to return. [ BG3 Companion Specific: She is bound by oath to depose Magnus by any means necessary, else she will become an Oathbreaker ]

D E A L B R E A K E R S

If one of these are broken, then my muse will not be able to be in a relationship with your muse.

She has four dogs: you have got to accept that she's a dog person.

Disloyalty: if you are not true to your word to other people, she will not trust you to be true to her.

tagged by: no-one, I made this thing up tagging: YOU.

[thespacelizard]

The Short-Lived Journal of Apprentice Ashenivir Zauvym

@fluffbruary day 21 - a little experiment today, trying to branch out somewhat. up on AO3 here. (cw referenced/implied past sexual assault)

In which Ashenivir tries journalling about it.

The following papers might be found, if one cared to look, between the pages of an old spellbook belonging to one apprentice Ashenivir Zauvym, of the Mythen Thaelas College of Arcanum.

I’ve no idea how to start this. It’s Keszriin’s idea anyway—she thought it might help, after—

There follows a smeared passage, the ink clearly scrubbed out whilst still fresh.

What point is there in writing down awful things? I have more important things to remember, like the circle constructions for the summoning aptitude exams at the end of the month. Although, I hope they won’t be able to tell I’ve been involved with a summoning already. That doesn’t leave a mark in your connection to the Weave, does it? I don’t think it does, there’s no reason why it should.

No. It doesn’t. Ri Master Velkon’yss would have mentioned if it did. He wouldn’t have let me summon the construct with him if it was going to cause me trouble later. He’s made it very clear that focusing on my studies is paramount. Which is to say, more important to focus on than—

The next several paragraphs are thickly lined out, leaving most of the passage illegible. The words collar, on my knees, service, and can’t think straight are all that can be made out.

I didn’t need to write all of that. Why did I write all of that? Why am I still writing any of this!

Because I’m avoiding an essay, that’s why. It’s not hard, just tedious. Riz Master Velkon’yss is right; I’m not getting anything from that alchemy class any more. But if I change it, it’ll mean dropping one of Rizeth’s Master Velkon’yss’ classes, and his are more useful to me than a different alchemy Master would be.

Alright, that’s not entirely true. I know I’m not supposed to prioritise certain other things but I can’t help it. Whatever notions Keszriin has about ‘writing things down’ being helpful, the scenes help more. They clear my head better than anything ever has since I stopped dancing. I’d be feeling a lot worse if I didn’t have them, and while Keszriin’s been very sympathetic, I can’t stand being constantly asked if I’m okay, if I need anything. I love her, but I honestly I just want to forget about it. Rizeth gives me the space to forget.

I did worry, though, after what happened. That I wouldn’t want to attend Rizeth any more, I mean—it would be just my luck to have finally found what I need only for someone else to ruin it for me. I don’t know if I should be worried that that was what I was worried about; it’s weird, right, to be afraid you won’t want to be treated the way Rizeth treats me, after something so awful?

Keszriin, this isn’t helping at all, I hope you know that.

At any rate, I’ve been…fine, I suppose. And I’m so glad Rizeth didn’t stop sending for me, for studying and otherwise. He doesn’t treat me like I might break. He just follows our usual rules and leaves it for me to decide what I’m capable of—and I’ve been good! I don’t try and push myself—I know that doesn’t impress him at all—and I think he’s proud of that.

It’s hard to tell with him, but I’m getting better at reading his expressions. He’s very subtle.

Ugh, I should finish that essay. For one thing, if I don’t do it and Rizeth finds out, I’ll be in trouble—and not the fun kind. Academic infractions always get real punishment; like I wrote, my studies are the most important thing, no matter how much I’d rather spend my evenings—

A very heavily crossed out section covers the remainder of the page. The only word visible through the dark streaks of ink is Master.

That’s quite enough of this experiment. At least I can tell Keszriin I tried, and that it definitely made me feel better, and she needn’t pester me about it any more. I don’t need to write out my feelings to know what they are. There’s no point wasting time and ink putting them on paper—they can stay in my head where they belong.

Though speaking of feelings…I should not have written all that down, I’m too distracted to work now. I’ll just fix that, then I’ll finish this essay.

A final note: this journal is tucked between spellbook pages containing the notation for a spell not found in the standard Arcanum curriculum. It consists of a short verbal incantation, a simple somatic gesture, and the intriguing material component of ‘a small smear of bodily fluid, such as spit, sweat, or whatever else might be readily at hand.’

There is no author attribution for the spell.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

(hi ^_^ i dont know if these are closed but i'd like to request a romantic matchup with the twst boys (no staff preferably). call me lee by the way! or 💥

im an introvert. mellow, light-hearted, down-to-earth and a bit assertive when i can be and i have tendencies to be passive-aggressive when provoked. i think i'd say i'm kinda stubborn as well and i don't like to cause trouble for myself for no good reason. i tend to be rational almost all the time since it helps me find common ground on things so it's easier to cater for ppl whilst trying to conclude together. i go with the flow most of the time and i'm quite unshaken to setbacks and try not to dwell on them. i also observant and catch onto small details and remember the small things abt ppl easily. i get along with most people really since i don't have strong feelings of hate for the people around me. im also naturally intelligent but the lack of motivation kinda throws me off (lazy bum). when im around people, i tend to be corny as hell with my jokes and they are almost always a hit or miss. im also sarcastic and offbeat in terms of my humor. people have told me im quite warm-hearted, loyal and considerate. a friend of mine also told me they felt like they could be themself in my presence. im also quite comical (in terms of my facial expressions). i give advice rather than comfort or just silent comfort.

as for hobbies i really love drawing and im into videogames (mostly horror games) and tv series/movies. honestly whatever catches my attention. i also want to play the guitar and garden soon.

i look for someone who i can spend time with.. i like to take things slow, so i guess something casual then turns serious. it takes a while to bare myself to other people so i think i need someone who wont go yapping off my personal problems to anyone else. also i have a hard time expressing how i feel so i tend to use more actions that words. id also like someone who can motivate me cuz im quite the lazy person. knowing that someone has my back is something i deeply appreciate. also someone honest please. other than that, the bare minimum wins. you love me, i love you. bonus if you match my energy or play along wither whatever gimmick i have in store.

i cant deal with people who cant alk things through. i also dont like people who tend to go out of their way to purposefully harm reps/relationships etc. holier-art-thou personalities are also a turn off. also know-it-alls who can actually never back up anything they say. and the usual.

i give quality time, parallel play and acts of services. i like to receive words of affirmation the most and any other one that i give.

typology: istp sp9w8 973 (or 953 im not sure) zodiac: aries sun, capricorn moon, aquarius rising, mercury pisces, venus taurus

im unlabeled with a masc preference. im monogamous. in relationships, i think i may be clingy but i prefer if we respect when we need a little space every now and then. im not too sure how id be in one overall. theres a first for everything

i'm 5'4, warm-toned brown skin and 4B curly black hair (in braids) with two moles on each side of my face. i also have dimples and on the chubbier side. severe case of resting bitch face that everyone seems to think im an unfriendly grump (im not im nice). people say my smile is akin to :3 i tend to present neutrally but more on the feminine side i suppose. i really love rings as well and wear them whenever.

i also love strangers to lovers trope or opposites attract (not necessarily stark opposites like sun and moon, but the way they think and act, you wouldn't think they would end up together but they do somehow.)

thank you!

Hi, Lee [you can also be 💥 anon if you want]! Seems like you’re the apple of someone’s eye!

Epel Felmier

How I would imagine you two meeting; You would have a meet-cute moment where you bump into each other while in the gardening section. “Ah, pardon me,” he would say and then noticed that you had a book on gardening. “I’d recommend this variety-” From there you would become friends and then a couple, it would be pretty seamless too. “Yer pretty sweet, ya know? I think we make a good pair.”

Even before you two even got together, you would bicker with each other playfully. Epel would just roll his eyes if you brought up the height difference. Only you get a free pass on that. In turn, he would also playfully tease you back.

Epel really appreciates that you’re down-to-earth and that you have a good head on your shoulders; that you’re loyal and considerate. But he also understands that you do struggle with motivation at times, and he’s there to cheer you on, to lift you up. “Darlin’, would you like some help there? It’s okay to fall off the horse, as long as you get back up.” But he doesn’t nag you about it.

He loves seeing your goofy side, and you can either have him cracking up so hard that he’s crying, or he gets sighs and shakes his head. He can match this energy though and send you some awful apple jokes. The victor is only declared when either you or him laughs.

He appreciates that you’re interested in wanting to start gardening, and can help you if you wanted him to; spending quality time covered in mud while planting seeds. Watching movies, and playing horror games are also common, and he won’t go easy on you either… he might be a tad of a sore loser… “You only beat me cuz you’re better at it,” it has no bite though. He also really likes your drawings and might replicate them in his apple carvings.

Epel keeps everything that you reveal to him confidential. You trusted him with that information, and he’ll take it with him to the grave. He’ll also talk things over with you, and take any advice that you give to heart.

He finds your dimples endearing and will tell you so. He holds a similar softness for your moles too. And the :3 smile, and he understands the RBF, so the :3 smile is even better when considering that.

“Hey, darlin’? You’re the only apple in my eye. Ugh, that was cheesy.”

I hope you enjoy your match-up, Lee! I also got the extra info you provided too and tried to add that in.

Epel would also learn how to braid, so if you wanted, he could braid your hair; but he wouldn't push it. He would also get you two matching rings, representing both of you they're apples. Hope you enjoy the Southern drawl!

[obaewankenope]

I remember in college (16-18yrs old) my ancient history professor put my name in for the AQA Extended Project Qualification without asking me and told me about it afterwards. I was 17, clearly Gifted from the outset, and she pegged me as the student in her class who'd do the work for it because she Expected It Of Me.

The thing is, she didn't mean any of it cruelly or meanly. She genuinely thought it was a good thing, that I'd enjoy it, and that it would be a good challenge for me when I was clearly more than capable of completing the coursework and classwork she set with ease.

And she wasn't wrong. But she didn't ask me and I ended up having to spend several months working on this thing around existing classes, home life being a mess, my own mental health being a wreck, and not one teacher realised I had any problems at all.

I had to fill out a journal regularly of Community Work I did like packing bags and stuff to show "community mindset", research my chosen subject, create draft proposals for it, speak to tutors outside of class time to hash it out, attend extra classes on civics and stuff for the qualification and so much more it was unreal.

I had to write a 5k paper on my subject topic, deliver a presentation, proposal, display board for the examiners to look at and ask me questions about which I had to answer and not feck up at the time.

As well as keep my grades up.

And the worst thing. Thee worst thing. It was easy.

It was easy because I could focus on that rather than my mental health, than my home life, than my relationship issues, than all those other things I should have been working on but didn't have the time because I didn't want to disappoint my tutor who signed me up for this whole thing without asking me because she believed in me.

And I aced the thing. I genuinely did.

I aced my classes, except sciences because well something had to give and definitions of things were what I kicked out of my head at the time (I no longer can tell you how to calculate speed and velocity correctly rip).

I was the gifted kid from childhood who was compared to her struggling brother with his adhd and his learning difficulties and behavioural problems, who was well behaved and polite and smart and not a problem in the classroom ever (except when I chose to be).

And that bullshit dragged with me into university where, honestly, I burned myself up. I established a routine sure, but the first week of uni I had a full on emotional breakdown bc I locked myself out of my room and my drunk flatmates all consoled me because everything, and I mean everything, just came down on me at that moment.

I picked myself back up, went to classes and passed everything. Even stats. Though not really because honestly I just didn't get what the tutor was saying and she didn't explain once.

(And I felt so ashamed of that stats class result, it was hilarious. Especially when I had to redo it in the summer which was just horrid for this Gifted Kid to suddenly be struggling).

I have two degrees, an undergraduates and a masters, I have 5 a-levels and 2 as levels. I have all the gcses my school offered that I took and didn't fail any of them.

I am smart. But I struggled so much in university. Not for taking notes, I used my laptop and relied on the tutors power points to add info to, but with everything else because I hadn't been given support where I needed it.

I am superficial and charming on the surface because I have spent a lifetime masking all my problems and troubles and being the good student who doesn't cause trouble even when they want to just get up and scream. The depths of me are seen more online than in person because y'all don't expect me to be charming and to smile and to express social cues I had to consciously learn on my own because not one adult thought I needed help there.

This is the curse of being a gifted kid.

Especially one who gets diagnosed at 28 with adhd who could have done so much more at 22 on adhd medication because things would have been easier. Help would have been available.

Because when you're just Autistic. When you have Aspergers. When you're High Functioning. You're just Smart And Awkward and written off as fine.

I suffered so much for no reason other than a flawed system that overworks its employees, doesn't fund the things it should fund enough, and leaves kids like me, who show accelerated growth in quantifiable areas of statistical measurement but who need help with other areas, to suffer alone.

There's a reason so many Gifted kids end up diagnosed as neurodivergent. It's because we're smart in one way that means everything else about us is ignored.

The Problem Kids I saw in high school (11-16) were some of the smartest kids I've ever met. But because they struggled with maths, with spelling, with reading, and other things, they got ignored, or babied, or told off when they got bored and grew tired of being ignored and not praised like the Gifted Kids at least got.

One of those kids, Tom, he genuinely was so smart. He wrote a whole ass English paper the day before it was due and he got an amazing mark because he had actually listened to me explaining stuff next to him in class, even when he fucked around throwing erasers about, or doodling, and I went through things in a way he understood because that helped me too.

Like.

He's Gifted. He's smart. But he got called a Problem Kid because of disruptive behaviour. Because he drew attention to himself, good or bad, because he didn't want to be ignored and because the subject didn't Interest Him.

I learned a lot in school because I loved learning. That's why I did well. I loved to just soak up knowledge. I still do. The fact that the knowledge I enjoyed learning was information relevant to standardised tests is the only, The Only, reason I got labelled as Gifted and not Problem or Ignorant.

My mother is smart. She loves horses. She Loves To Learn About Horses. Always has. School for her was a story of Not Trying, Not Paying Attention, Not Able To Understand. Because it didn't Interest her. It didn't engage.

But she's Gifted too.

She's forgotten more about horses than I'll ever know. And I know a lot.

Intelligence isn't just MENSA tests and pattern recognition and that bs used to evaluate how smart someone is in a psychological assessment.

Intelligence, true intelligence, is being able to share what you know with others in a way they can understand. That's true intelligence.

And I know a lot of Gifted Kids, Problem Kids, Ignorant Kids, Daydreamers, and Drop-Outs who are intelligent because of that fact alone.

So fuck the lack of support for gifted kids and other kids. Fuck the idea that kids can be categorised as smart and not smart. Fuck the mentality that if you're not good at your countries language and maths that you're "stupid". Fuck it all.

We're all fucking geniuses and I won't have anyone tell y'all different.

And we support each other as a result. Got that.

[twilight-orchid]

How The Demon Brothers React After Fighting With Their SO

tw: some angst with resolution at the end, mentions of past arguments, insecurity.

Lucifer:

This man is petty as hell.

He doesn’t do the silent treatment, but he acts like you aren’t dating.

If you need to work on something together, you’re a co-worker.

At RAD you’re a classmate.

Around the house you’re just a housemate.

His poker face is immaculate and it will not crack when you’re around.

If someone didn’t know what was happening, they’d probably think you two barely knew each other.

However, you won’t notice, but as soon as you look the other way his eyes are on you.

He’s used to arguing with his brothers and is no stranger to explosive fights that end with he and the other person not being on speaking terms.

But you’re different.

He tries to go on with business as usual, but he can’t think about anything other than how much he misses you.

Yet, he lets it continue because he just can’t put his pride aside and apologize.

If you decide to sleep in your old room it’ll both hurt his feelings and royally piss him off.

He thinks you’re being childish and will be pretty rude about it, but that’s because internally his blood just ran cold.

It adds a degree of seriousness to the argument that he’s uncomfortable with.

Yes he’s mad, but he can’t lose you.

If you still sleep in his bed, he makes sure to scoot over to the very edge so he doesn’t cuddle you in his sleep.

In fact, the first night after the argument he’d probably put a pillow between you just to really punctuate the fact that he’s still upset.

I’d say it could go 4 days to a week tops without you making up.

After a point though, he just can’t function until the issue is resolved. He can’t sleep, he’s falling behind on his work, and he’s just generally not doing well.

You get called to his office one night and find him at his desk surrounded by piles of paper, disheveled and exhausted.

“MC, come sit down. I’d like to talk this through. Please.”

Mammon:

He’s so dramatic.

You dare defy him? The Great Mammon can’t believe this tiny fragile human would have the audacity.

The theatrics are just a front though.

His ‘The Great Mammon’ act is a mask for his insecurity, one he hasn’t had to use with you in awhile.

Even as the words leave his mouth he regrets them.

He’s going to be very uncomfortable with everything until the argument is resolved, but most of all himself.

He’s learned not to take his brothers too seriously when they toss insults his way, but words have a way of morphing to belief over time.

Internally he is going to be super hard on himself. 

Regardless of if the fight was his fault or not, he’s going to kick himself constantly for making yet another mistake.

He’s over the argument pretty fast. The anger quickly melts into anxiety.

Are you going to leave him? Do you hate him? Did he hurt your feelings? 

That being said, he doesn’t know if you’re still mad and he doesn’t know how to ask. 

As a defense mechanism, he defaults to how he treated you when you first arrived in the devildom.

Calls you human, disregards you, stuff like that.

If you decide to sleep in another room, before midnight expect him to be knocking on the door.

“Oi, MC. You awake? I just - I can’t - *sigh* Can we talk about this?”

If you sleep in his bed, he makes a point of sleeping with his back to you.

Less because he’s actually mad and more because he doesn’t want his image of you as he drifts to sleep to be a look of anger.

Though as soon as he passes out he’ll roll over and tuck you into his arms on instinct.

I’d say any after effects of an argument with Mammon would be resolved in a day, maybe two tops.

Leviathan:

Arguing activates his trolling the forums mode.

Goes back to calling you a normie and contradicts everything you say.

He’s less mad about the argument and more using the bitterness to cope with how upset he is.

He feels like a break up is less of an if and more of a when.

Why would someone as amazing as you settle for weird otaku like him?

Honestly doesn’t understand why you’re with him in the first place, so when there’s a serious argument he assumes its over.

Tbh don’t know how you and Levi would sleep together being that I doubt two could fit in a tub, but any deviation to your routine sends him into a panic.

It’s his reality check that the situation is serious and he needs to fix it NOW.

He’d have trouble apologizing in person. He can’t think of what to say, he stumbles over his words, and he feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

Instead, expect a long ass text message.

He says how sorry he is, how much he misses and loves you, and legit begs you to forgive him.

If you sleep with him like normal, he’ll probably try to make up after laying there for awhile. His mind is going a million miles an hour and there’s no way he can sleep.

Still really has trouble verbalizing how he feels, so give the poor boy a break and take over the conversation.

He hasn’t had a serious relationship before and he doesn’t know what he should do to make it better.

So the after effects will last however long it takes him to read several mangas, watch some anime, and play a few games to see how the characters get over arguments in the story.

Satan:

Satan makes sure not to fight with you over minor issues.

He’s worked tirelessly to tame his wrath and he refuses to feed into it over a minor issue.

Thus, if you fight with Satan it’s a major argument and it’s explosive.

The aftermath isn’t much better.

He doesn’t want to risk blowing up again, so he’s frighteningly calm.

He’s an absolute master of the silent treatment.

He won’t say a word to you until he’s certain he’s calmed down enough.

For the first few days he’ll straight up leave a room if you enter.

For a good while the only way you can expect to communicate with him is through his body language and the expression in his eyes.

Satan’s biggest fear is losing control and lashing out at you. 

He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you and he can’t stand the thought of you being afraid of him. 

He’s a whirlwind of emotions, so he isolates himself until he can figure out how to deal with it.

Not just from you, but from everyone else too. 

Satan will not share a bed with you for at least the first night.

If he got worked up enough to actually fight, it’s gonna take him time to simmer down.

And he’d rather not risk doing or saying something he regrets in the meantime.

Once he’s ready, he’ll approach you when he’s completely calmed down and has thoroughly analyzed the situation.

He’s considered both of your sides, tried to pinpoint what caused the disagreement to turn into a fight, and made a plan of action to prevent it from happening again.

“MC? I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what happened. Would you please talk it through with me?”

He won’t apologize for the argument if he feels like he was right, but he will apologize for letting the disagreement escalate into a fight.

Satan could go weeks without making up if necessary, but he tries to resolve it within a couple of days.

Asmodeus:

Wants to give you the silent treatment, but is physically incapable.

He can’t stand to have you ignore him.

He’s the type to go back to normal then suddenly remembers you guys had a fight.

“Wait, no! I’m not talking to you! I’m mad at you!”

His biggest downfall is that he’s so stubborn.

If he thinks he was right, he will die on that hill.

There are arguments with his brothers that happened a thousand years ago and he could still tell you exactly why he was right.

But with you, he realizes that doesn’t matter too him nearly as much as it usually does.

If it means going back to normal, he’ll forget who’s right or wrong.

If you sleep in another room, he’s beyond offended.

“What?! Well fine! I don’t want you in my bed anyway!”

Laying in bed alone is a different story though.

He can’t sleep. All he can think about is you. Your face when you sleep next to him, your smell, the feeling of his arms around you.

He 100% cries.

Finally goes and knocks on your door with wet, glossy eyes.

“MC? Can we talk about this? I can’t get my beauty sleep and my tears are wiping off all of my skin care lotion!”

Will throw himself into your arms before you can answer.

If you sleep next to him still, he rolls over and watches you sleep.

It puts him at peace and he decides seeing your sweet, resting face every morning is worth more to him than the argument.

He’ll initiate the conversation the next morning.

I think Asmo could make it a few days if it was a really serious argument, but he will not function well until you make up.

Beelzebub:

Wants to make up immediately.

He doesn’t like to argue, even less so with you.

Whether he was right or wrong, he blames himself. He’ll take all the blame in the world if it makes you happy.

He’ll go make you your favorite food and bring it to you.

If he thinks you don’t want to talk to him, he’ll leave it outside your door and text you to let you know it’s there.

He’s honestly devastated if you decide to sleep in another room.

You guys migrate to your old room when you want privacy from Belphie, but you almost never sleep separately.

Seeing you grab your pillows and march out of the room nearly stops his heart.

He goes completely numb and silent as he just stares at the space you had just occupied.

Like Levi, he thinks this means the relationship is over and he genuinely does not know what to do with himself.

He can’t even bring himself to eat, he just wants to lie there, lost and trying to grapple with his emotions. 

He’s another one who will absolutely cry, but unlike Asmo he will make sure no one knows it.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’s very nervous about it.

He doesn’t know if it’s okay to touch you, what he can or can’t say, stuff like that.

He just lays there stiff as a board not even able to close his eyes.

Honestly the fight would probably have to be resolved before bed. His anxiety just can’t take it.

I don’t think he’d initiate the apology. Not because he doesn’t want to make up but because his confidence is rock bottom in these situations.

He catastophizes and honestly thinks you hate him.

If you don’t initiate the apology soon, Belphie will. He can feel what his twin won’t say, and he knows Beel won’t approach you about it for fear of making it worse.

Belphie will lock you two in a room if that’s what it takes for you to make up.

Belphegor:

The embodiment of if looks could kill.

He won’t talk to you, won’t look at you, basically pretends you aren’t there.

If he must interact with you he’ll roll his eyes and sigh the whole time.

Tries to sleep through any interaction so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

He feels almost betrayed by the fight.

He thought the relationship was stronger than to have such a huge divide, so he’s really insecure about it.

After the first day, the anger has melted away to guilt.

He ‘s not guilty that you fought, but he is guilty about how he treated you after.

Guilt and self-blame have become unwelcome friends at this point. Guilt over Lilith, over his plans to destroy the human world, everything.

But more than anything else, the guilt for the fact that he attacked you weighs on him every day.

He moved past it quickly after, essentially pretending he hadn’t killed you, but that’s because he just couldn’t confront what he’d done. 

He feels like the luckiest demon alive that you forgave him, let alone  opened you heart enough to love him, and now it’s all in tatters.

Another thing to regret.

If you decide to sleep separately, it’ll hit him like a bag of bricks.

“You - what? Where are you going?” 

It’ll take him a second to process what you were doing, but then he’ll roll over and let you leave.

“Fine. Don’t let the door hit you.”

No one will see him for awhile. 

Belphie sleeps all the time anyway, but he just can’t make himself get out of bed.

If you don’t approach him to apologize, Beel will tell you that he’s been nauseous and randomly emotional which must mean his twin is coping very badly. 

Will beg you to go make Belphie happy again. 

If you sleep in his bed still, the argument will be resolved by morning.

He can’t keep himself from embracing you in his sleep, and it’s hard to say you’re mad at someone when you wake up in their loving arms.

It’s hard to pinpoint how long it could last with Belphie. If you don’t apologize first, he won’t let himself be conscious long enough to approach you.

This is both my first hc post as well as my first obey me post so I’m sorry if le boys are ooc. I just got this idea and couldn’t stop thinking about it so here we are.  Especially Belphie, he was hard to me for some reason. Let me know if you guys agree or disagree and if you want to send a request or ask, my box is open! 

[tuiccim]

Almost Had Me Believing It - Part 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader    

Word Count: 1569

Warnings: Mutual pining, smut

Summary: An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes’ wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

A/N: Divider by @whimsicalrogers​

Almost Had Me Believing It Series Masterlist

A few days later you and Bucky sit at breakfast discussing how to get more information about Frank. 

“Well, we know one way I could get in his house but I’d rather chew glass.” You grouse.

“You, uh, you don’t find him attractive?” Bucky stutters.

“No. I mean, Frank’s a good looking guy, but he’s not a good person. He gives me the creeps, honestly.” You shudder. 

Bucky reins in his smile at hearing that. He hated the idea of you liking any other man. At some point while running through the meadow yesterday, he realized you weren’t afraid of him. He was chasing you and you had this glorious smile on your face. There was no fear or anxiety about you as he tackled you to the ground. You had laughed as he did it and held onto him during the ride as if you felt safe with him. It was nothing short of a miracle in Bucky’s eyes. Very few people in his life watched him approach them without some apprehension in their eyes or tension in their body and nobody looked to him as a refuge of safety but you had. He still didn’t think he deserved it but he was determined to be a safe place and friend to you. 

“He’s not like you.” You say the sentence, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts, while causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. 

“Like me?” Bucky says in surprise. 

“You’re a good looking guy but you’re also good and sweet and kind. You want to help people, not destroy them, not hurt them. And you don’t give me the creeps.” You laugh lightly hoping to cover the emotions you feel towards the man in front of you. 

Bucky chuckles, “I’m glad I don’t give you the creeps.”

“Not at all.” You smile at him. 

“You’re a peach.” 

You smile at him and then the light bulb goes on over your head, “I have an idea.” You grab a large cup from the cabinet. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks. 

“Well, we are out of sugar.”

“No, we’re not. It’s right there on the counter.”

You take the container and dump it out in the trash, “Oops. As I was saying, we’re out of sugar. I’m gonna go borrow a cup from our neighbor.”

“How does that get us more information about him?”

“He’ll invite me in and I’ll plant a bug.” You say as you pull one of the devices out of your pocket.

“I’ll go with you.” Bucky says. 

“That’d look a little strange. Maybe he’ll let his guard down if I’m alone.”

“I don’t like you being alone with him.”

“I’ll be fine, Bucky. If I can take you to the mat I don't think I’ll have a problem with Frank.” You smirk at the supersoldier. Bucky gives you a nod and crosses his arms looking unhappy. “I’ll be back.” You say as you head for the door. 

Frank answers his front door within a couple of minutes and smiles, “Hey. What’s up?”

“I’ve come to beg a favor of a benevolent neighbor.” You repeat the phrase Frank had used a few days ago. 

Frank laughs, “Are you in need of coffee?”

“Sugar. I knocked the container over and lost it all on the floor. Do you have some to spare?” You keep your expression self-deprecating and sweet. 

“Of course. Come on in. I have all kinds of sugar you can have, gorgeous.” 

“I just need the white granulated kind,” you giggle as you slip past him into the house.

You follow Frank to the kitchen. He takes the cup from your hand and goes to the pantry to retrieve the sugar for you. Taking a quick assessment of the available real estate for a bug, you attach it to a space where you hope it can pick up sound in both the kitchen and living room. 

“So, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you.” Frank says as he emerges. 

“Yeah?” 

“About a job.”

“Oh! Great. Where?” You ask. 

“Do you have any bookkeeping experience?” Frank asks. 

“Yes. I worked for a couple of small offices where I doubled as the office manager as well as nurse. I’m pretty decent at that kind of thing. Where’s the job?”

“Here.”

“What?” You look at him utterly confused. 

“You know I’m a landlord and I have several properties. I need someone to do billing, take the payments, handle utilities, deal with the tenant requests. The accounting side has never been my strong suit and I added three more properties in the past year. It would just be part-time. If you're interested…”

“Part-time is exactly what I’m looking for right now. Do you want me to bring you a resume?”

“I’ll take you at your word.” Frank winks. “Why don’t you come back after lunch and I’ll have everything together for us to look at?”

“Are you sure about this? I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship, Frank.”

“I’m sure, gorgeous.” Frank puts an arm around your shoulders as he walks you to the door. “I’ll see you this afternoon, right?”

“Okay. Thanks, Frank.” You smile as you head back to your house. You find Bucky in the office messing with the receiver. “Is it working?”

“As soon as you attached it, I could hear everything. A job offer, huh?” Bucky raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah. A lot of access that way.” You smile. 

“A lot of time alone with you.” Bucky grouses. 

“I’ll be okay, Bucky. This is good.” 

--

You had spent the afternoon with Frank going over everything with him touching you nearly constantly. Your skin crawled but you managed to play him off. His books really were a mess and you arranged to work with him for the next few afternoons to get things in order. This would afford you the opportunity to plant more bugs. Hopefully, this would also help you gain Frank’s trust and get him to eventually reveal his not so legal dealings. Bucky was unhappy with your report of the afternoon. He did not like you spending so much time alone with Frank. 

“Come here, Doll.” Bucky beckons to you from the living room.

“What’s up?” You ask. 

Bucky puts his arms around you and his hands grab your ass, “Jump.”

You wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck and jump wrapping your legs around him. Bucky presses you against the wall and you whisper, “Frank watching us?”

“Yup.” Bucky says as he presses his lips to the side of your neck. You arch your neck to give him better access. “Thought he might need another show. Don’t want him getting any ideas that you working for him is gonna get him anywhere.”

“I appreciate that.” You are desperately trying to hold in your moans as Bucky kisses your neck and your hands grasp his hair. Giving in to your own impulse, you pull his head back and meet his lips with your own. Bucky melds his mouth to yours and you feel his hands flex their grasp on your ass. His tongue slides into your mouth and the moan you had been holding in slips out. Your hips shift of their own accord and you can feel Bucky’s erection pressed against you. Bucky pushes away from the wall and carries you down the hallway. He pulls his lips away from yours and gently lowers you to the floor outside your room.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, you?” 

“Yeah.” He looks at you for a moment. “I hope you didn’t mind. I know I was touching-”

“Bucky. It’s fine. You’re just trying to keep Frank off me. I appreciate that. Plus, you're my husband, right?” You smile. 

“Yeah. I just, I don’t want to take advantage of the situation.” Bucky says. 

“I know you wouldn’t do that, Bucky. Don’t worry, okay? Good night.” You hug him around his torso and scurry into your room. 

Bucky retreats to his room and flops down on the bed. You had reassured him that you knew he wouldn’t take advantage, but that’s exactly what he was doing. He saw an opportunity to touch you again and he couldn’t pass it up. You had felt and tasted just as sweet as the first time he’d touched you a few nights ago. You were the one who’d kissed him though. For a minute, he allowed himself to indulge in the thought that you had wanted it, that you had enjoyed it. That your moan had been real. The kiss had been real. The way you rolled your hips against him was because you wanted him, too. 

Bucky’s hand moved of their own volition and pushed down his sweats. His cock was painfully hard and he had to relieve the pressure. Fisting himself he remembers your sweet whimpers when he had rutted against you the other night, the moans you released as the two of you kissed tonight, and he imagines his hand is you wrapped around him. He thinks of how wet you would be as he presses into you and the breathy little sounds you’d make as he bottomed out inside you. “Fuck.” Bucky whispers as he imagined your face scrunched up in ecstasy. His hand speeds up as he pictures you riding him and he bucks up into his hand. “Fuck.” he whispers one more time as he comes all over his stomach.

Part 5

Masterlist

Permanent: @bubbabarnes​ @badassbaker​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @strangersstranger​ @cherthegoddess​ @buckyluvrs​ @sherlocksmanwatson​ @cap-n-stuff​ @finleyjayne​ @caplanreads​ @connie326​ @daydreamerinadazedworld​ @bugsbucky​ @chrisevanscardigan​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @palaiasaurus64​ @rebekahdawkins​ @maaaaarveeeeel​ @tllynn15​ @learisa​ @jelly-fishy-babie​ @fistmebuckyskywalker​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @liebs82​ @honestly-dontknow​ @a-really-bi-girl​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @baddie-barnes​ @aikeia​ @paleo-runaway​ @marvelgirl7​ @starlightcrystalline​ @xxloki81xx​ @kcd15​ @slytherinambitious​ @sallycanwait68​ @slytherdorxmd​ @fangirlforever2412​ @rainbowkisses31​ @whisperlullaby​ @thejemersoninferno​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @supraveng​ @dispatchvampire​ @juenenfeu​ @sxbby-barnes​ @allonszassbutt​ @y-napotat​ @reallymagnificentinfluencer​ @is-it-madness​ @harold231​ @buckysbaby32​ @purselover23​ @ene-rene​ @chrisevansbaby​ @rosesanchez12298806​ @xxpapasfritasxx​

Almost had me believing it: @farfromjustordinary​ @iheartsebastianstan @7minutes-tomidnight​ @thechaoticargonaut​ @marylimlp​ @buckybarnesdevotee​ @janaienaae​ @its-a-simply-me-thing @rosalynshields​ @oliviastan17​ @onlyjamesbuchananbarnes​ @fangirl-swagg​ @wrdro​ @vicmc624​ @lokilokilokilokilokiloki​ @fangirl-swagg​ @jonhsrevelation @ivettt​ @detroitobsessed​ @mypoisonedvine​ @thebuckysoldier​ @teenagedreams-bucky​ @chipilerendi​ @bloodyproudpotterhead​ @jaywolf840​ @mysfitdragony564 @disasterbii​ @daddys-minty-princess​ @whatrambles​ @emmabarnes @pitypartycityy​ @srrymydood​ @legendarysuitstudentfan​ @wittyrosebushb @stuckysavedmylive​ @perfectlymaximumphilosopher​ @potatopineappleposts1 @yolandamontezistherealwildcat​ @irishflutiegirl​ @itsaliceheree​ @fictionalhoomanofnowhere​ @thatchickwiththecamera​ @wendyswildwonders​ @empath-bunny​ @the-lake-is-calling​ @thebadassbitchqueen​

Strikethroughs could not be tagged.

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

did i just bingeread everything you posted? absolutely. do i regret it. absolutely not. ✨you are an amazing writer!!!💕 And while we’re at it can i request a scenario where Niragi goes crazy and scares his s/o really bad but he gets kinda soft and tries to comfort them later? If that makes sense haha And also a giant thank you for writing in gender neutral!!🥺💕

Thank you so much for reading my fics! I’m honestly really flattered haha 😅 Here is you’re request!

Comfort From A Tormentor | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. OC)

Summary: Niragi tries to comfort you, his S/O, after you witnessed his murderous behaviour for the first time

Warnings: toxic relationship, blood, murder, graphic violence, pushy behaviour, reader watches someone being killed, going into shock, panic attack, quite intense trauma, slight abuse of power

Word Count: 2.4k

*reader is gender-neutral

You always knew that Niragi wasn’t the kindness at The Beach, which was quite blatantly obvious. When people heard you guys had gotten together and were now in an established relationship, you had many people express their concerns privately with you, labelling him as an evil and violent character. You always shook it off, because you’d seen nothing of the sort during the time you had spent with him.

The worst you ever saw him say or do was a threat, or a short punch to the ribs as a warning, but even then the victims usually deserved it. You hadn’t experienced one of Niragi’s ‘outbreaks’ that people have discussed with you about. You started to believe it was all rumours to keep you away from him until he lost it one night in front of you, causing you to believe everything you had been told about him.

It was a usual night at The Beach, people parading around the pool and filling their brains and sinuses with alcohol, allowing them to forget their shared hardships for the evening.

You sat in a small booth that was excluded from the rest of the crowd. Your head was leaning on Niragi’s broad shoulder as you watched everyone dance to the blaring music. You felt the bass vibrate through the ground and in your chest, making you excited from the fun atmosphere.

Niragi lifted his hand and pet your head softly. “You okay little mouse?” he checked, bringing his face closer to yours and placing his lips on your cheek. You turned your head towards him and brushed your lips on his. “Yeah, I’m just tired,” you whispered. Niragi smirked and rubbed his hand along your bare leg. “We can go to bed soon, let’s just stay a little longer.”

Niragi shifted underneath you and stood up, making you lean back against the cushioned backrest. “I’m going to get a drink,” he stated bluntly before picking up his rifle from the small table that sat in front of you. “Don’t let anyone touch you otherwise you’ll regret it.”

You felt uneasy at his threat, but you knew if you just listened to him he would never carry through his brutal promises. He wasn’t that hard of a personality to figure out.

You watched as he strolled away towards the bar, leaving you by yourself and cold in the booth. You moved your eyes from him and looked around to everyone else, watching a few people jump into the pool and laugh together. You wished Niragi had less of a important placing at The Beach so he could relax like everyone else instead of constantly having to deal with stupid drunken dickheads causing trouble.

You looked over towards the bar again to see if you could spot Niragi, but couldn’t see him from where you were sitting. You needed to go to the bathroom and you were wondering if you could make it before he returned. You shrugged your shoulders and stood up on your feet to leave. It wouldn’t be that long, and besides if he did some back to you not being there, you were sure he wouldn’t mind. It’s just the bathroom.

You quickly made your way past the few crowds of dancing bodies. The smell of sweat and alcohol filled your nostrils as you pushed through, making your face scrunch up in disgust. No matter how long you spend there, you would never grow used to the party smell.

You made your way to the lobby to get to the bathroom located there. It was a quiet walk and hardly anyone was in the halls. It made you more calm, knowing that no one was around to bring you a hard time.

But unfortunately, you thought too soon. As you arrived at the lobby and were crossing the main lounge area, a young man with jet black hair and blue board shorts stood up from one of the couches. You failed to notice him earlier due to him being hidden behind the backrest.

“Oh hey!” he exclaimed your way excitedly. “I thought you’d come here. I saw you drink a rather large cocktail earlier so I just guessed you’d show up some time soon or later.”

You froze in shock, looking the man up and down with confusion written on your face. “What?”

He shook his head as he slowly made his way over to your frame. “Forget it. I wanted to get you away from your psychotic side piece so I could get a chance with you without being killed.” His smile was a bit too creepy for your liking, bringing an unpleasant tingling feeling up your back.

You stepped back as he attempted to reach out and grab your hand. He slowly recoiled with a frown on his tanned face. You shook your head and hands, denying his movements towards you. “No thanks actually. I’m not interested,” you insisted, turning your back to try and escape into the bathroom.

You felt your heart drop from the sudden grip on your wrist, pulling you back towards the annoying man and into his chest. He lifted your chin so you were looking at him and crashed his lips onto yours.

You panicked, ripping your arm out of his grip and pushing him away from you. He stumbled back a bit before smirking at your angered expression.

“What the fuck was that?!” you screamed at him, wiping his saliva off of your mouth in disgust. “Did no one ever teach you what no means?!”

Before the man could respond, a piercing sound of gunshots rang through the room. You covered your ears and dropped to the ground in fear of being hit. You looked towards the man and saw him crouching as well with a few bullet marks scattering the carpet around him. They barely missed him.

You kept your head down low in case of another load being shot at any moment, but you were grabbed by your upper arm and pulled up roughly after a few short moments. Niragi stood there, angered expression on his face and tightening his grip on your arm. You felt your blood pumping with adrenaline from his movements.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he hissed into your face, being way too quiet for your liking.

You didn’t know what to say. Your words were trapped in your throat, being held there by the shock of the gunshots and Niragi’s anger towards you.

“I told you to not let anyone touch you. And how hard is it to stay in one place for five minutes?!” His fist moved from your arm to your jaw, holding it tightly so you would face him. Tears were developing in your eyes. You tried to stop them from rolling down your cheeks in fear of angering Niragi more, but the pain throbbing in your jaw made it nothing but more difficult. This wasn’t the Niragi you knew. He’s never laid a violent hand on you before.

“Niragi, stop,” you whimpered out, holding onto his wrist that was hurting you. “It hurts.”

“I don’t care. You deserve to be hurt after not listening to me.” Niragi finally released his grip from your jaw. You dropped to the ground, clutching your face in pain and letting out quiet sobs. The look in his eyes was menacing, making him seem unpredictable. You were terrified, pushing your legs against the carpet to separate yourself from his tall frame.

You watched as he turned away from you and walked towards the young man, who scrambled to his feet to try and run away. But Niragi leaped towards him and grabbed his shoulder before he could do so. He pulled him back harshly onto the ground and placed a boot on his chest, keeping him there. The man struggled until Niragi held the barrel of his gun against his forehead, making the petrified man freeze underneath him.

You watched in horror as he leaned down and pressed harder and harder on his bare chest, making the defenseless man cry out in fear of breaking a rib. “You’ve made a huge mistake my friend,” he growled, sticking his tongue out and showing off his piercing. “You dare touch what’s mine, you suffer the consequences.”

You leant up against the concrete wall, feeling too weak and in shock to stand up. You cried and screamed as you watched Niragi stamp his foot incredibly harshly on the man’s head several times. Blood poured down the side of his face and he put his hands up in defense, which deemed useless against Niragi’s strength. Niragi didn’t stop, moving his aim from the man’s face to his chest, hands, stomach, groin and thighs. His screams of pain and suffering echoed around the room, ringing in your ears and making your heart ache. Yes, he did attempt to force himself onto you, but hearing another human screeching out for help when you could do nothing was one of the most painful things you could ever inflict on an empath such as yourself.

You shook violently and covered your eyes with your hands, not wanting to see anymore. You wanted to disappear, to evaporate into the wind. You wanted to wake up back at home, in your safe warm bed from before the Borderland. You felt sick from the contrasting differences between the world in your head and the one you were physically in. Why couldn’t you just fade away?

You felt a presence in front of your shivering form, and you slowly peeled away your hands to reveal the abuser in front of you, looking into your eyes worryingly. Your stomach dropped from catching a glimpse of the blood splattered lightly across his attractive features. You felt nausea building in your stomach, making you want to throw up.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” Niragi lifted a hand and tried to place it on your cheek, but you flinched away violently and screamed as you crawled onto your hands and knees, attempting to quickly escape him. It was deemed almost impossible to do considering the emotional state you were in at that moment. You just watched your lover beat a man until the light left his eyes, you weren’t going to recover from the shock quickly.

You cried as he grabbed your ankle and roughly pulled you back. You struggled against his grip and tried to shake his hands off of your shoulders and waist desperately. You were terrified that he was going to hurt you, beat you until you were dead just like his other victim.

“Baby! Why are you so scared?! Hold still!” Niragi cried, attempting to hold your thrashing body against his to quiet you down. He was feeling desperate and helpless, what was happening to you? You’ve never done this before. He thought maybe you were in shock and thinking that he was the man trying to force himself on you.

“Y/N! It’s me! I’m here, you’re okay!” he cried in a frightened tone. He managed to pull you roughly by your waist into his lap and held the back of your head against his chest area. He began to shake himself, being so worried about your emotional state. He felt you suddenly stop struggling in his arms, hearing your soft sobs of fear against his shirt.

“What’s going on baby? You’re scaring me,” he groaned into your neck. You shivered against him, feeling too weak to even push yourself from his chest. You could do nothing but sit in his lap, terrified of the man who was attempting to comfort you.

“It’s okay. He’s gone now. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he cooed, stroking your hair in an attempt to calm your rapid breathing. He let out a shaky breath, being on the verge of tears. He felt his heart rapidly pumping in his chest, thumping against his ribcage. He was at least comforted at the fact that you were back in his arms, away from everyone and everything that wanted to separate you from him.

He leaned his head back and looked at your face tucked into his chest. He saw your tight hands scrunching his black and white button-up into themselves, making him feel soft at how vulnerable and small you looked.

“It’s okay baby. I’ve got you. I’ll always protect you.”

You tried to level your breathing, listening to Niragi’s heartbeat to focus on something else other than the fact that he had just murdered someone in front of you.

Everything everyone had said was true. Niragi was purely an evil person, filled to the brim with violence and murderous impulses. You repented your doubts so badly, wishing that you had listened. But you chose to give him a chance to be a good person for once in his life, and he threw it out the window. Only now, you couldn’t escape him. You had to now live with being the object of a murderer’s desires.

You felt Niragi snake his arms underneath your knees and shoulders gently, standing up from the ground with you in his arms. You clutched onto him from around his neck, tears still slowly travelling down your face.

“Let’s get you to bed, hmm? My little baby must be so tired after all that.”

‘After all that’. He said it like it was nothing more than a bad day. Your boyfriend just killed someone in front of you and then just forced you back into his arms. This wasn’t a bad day, it was a traumatic experience that would stay with you for the rest of your life, remembering every detail and image of the event vividly.

“Niragi,” you mumbled. He glanced down to your weak frame, face going soft from the tired expression across your features. “Shh, don’t speak. Just go to sleep. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.” He leaned down and placed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

You didn’t want him to be there when you woke. In fact, you didn’t want to wake up at all. You felt miserable and defenseless in his arms, wishing for nothing more than to wake up and for it to be all some horrific dream.

But you didn’t wake up, because it was your reality. Niragi’s delusional, obsessive and abusive mindset was nothing new anymore, it was normal everyday life for you from then on.

[bazzybelle]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ♥️

Hello Anon! Thank you so much for this! I am so sorry that I'm only getting to it now. Thank you also to @amywaterwings and @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for the tags.

5) Speak My Language of Love (Teen, 8K)

It isn't always easy to say what the heart feels. Words get jumbled, thoughts get hazy, and nerves sometimes keep us from expressing the things we want to express. Fortunately, where words fail, actions speak. And for some, that's the best way to show the person you love just how much you love them. That's the case for Simon Snow after all.

This was a fic, I wrote back in 2020, for @carryonsimoncarryonbaz's birthday, who wanted fluffy, domestic, in-love SnowBaz. I gave them a 5+1 fic about love languages and the way that Simon and Baz show their love for each other. I also added a little kinda twist, but it's a really subtle one. I just really loved writing this fic and just going all out tooth-rotting fluff with it.

4) Love is a Dream of Beauty (General, 4K)

I am known by many names in this court. Signore Pitch is one, but I find that to be dreadfully formal. I am not a master, nor am I nobility (well… not anymore). Amongst my peers and the scholars at the Academy, as well as the members of Lorenzo’s court, I am referred to as Tyrannus (which is probably worse than Signore Pitch, but these Florentines do love their classical history). My closest friends (of which I can count on one hand) refer to me as Basil or Baz, which is frankly what I prefer. It was what my mother and father called me before they died. There is also what enemies of the Medici like to refer to me as: The Displaced Prince. I would find it rather insulting, if I wasn’t so amused by it.

So, I wrote this fic back in 2019, for the Carry On Countdown. The prompt was Time Travel, so I toyed with the idea of a historical AU I wanted to write. This is on my list for several reasons, I remember writing this fic in like a couple of hours, wanting to dive deeper into their story. I love Renaissance Florence, and everything about it. And... it was after writing this fic that I decided to start COTTA (@carryonthroughtheages). I saw all the wonderful historical AUs, and I felt we needed an event to showcase our beloved characters in different historical settings. I had actually started to write the rest of this fic during the first COTTA year, but stopped when research became too overwhelming... It's still there, in my WIP folder, waiting to hopefully come alive again.

3) So Close, We've Always Been (Explicit, 12K)

Simon Snow has worked in security for most of his life, having dealt with some of the most difficult clients. None has come as close to being as frustrating as Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. The man is stuck-up, arrogant, and a complete arsehole. He's rude, careless, and Simon really should have quit months ago. Until there's something more that keeps him by Baz's side... Namely him being the best shag Simon's ever had. He may insist that the nights with Baz mean nothing, but not even he can prevent the feelings that start to flicker beneath the sheets.

I wrote this fic, in 2021 for the @carryon-anon-fest. Honestly, this was one of my favourite fests to participate in. I loved the idea that everything was so secretive. You didn't know who gave the prompts, and who filled them. I felt that took the pressure off of writing, and I really just had the most fun writing it. Also, it's a Bodyguard AU, and since publishing this fic, I keep having scenarios to put them in. I dunno... maybe I'll some more Bodyguard AUs?

2) keep me warm (the 'go and kiss him' remix) (Explicit, 8K)

Baz knows it's a stupid idea to sneak into the Catacombs. Any other day would be asking for trouble, but tonight, of all days? He's walking right into the lion's den, and he knows it. But, this is the evening before the Final Big Battle, and he has some final loose ends to take care of. Getting caught by Simon Snow is certainly NOT one of them. Baz knows this is the end. This is what it's all been coming down to, right? Him verses Simon; The Villain verses The Golden Boy; The Dark verses The Light. In the end, both Simon and Baz know what is right and what needs to be done. There is simply no other way. But... What if there is? What if there is something better than fighting?

I realize this is a love letter to my favourite fests, consider 4/5 favourite fics have been written for fests... BUT ANYWAY. This was written for another fest that I adore, @carryonremix. I participated twice in this fest (writing The Best Game You Can Name for the first one) (which came REALLY close behind number 5) (so I'm giving it an honourable mention). This was another fic that I had SO much fun writing. Getting to remix one of @im-gettingby's fic was an absolute joy (you need to read their stuff, because their fics are INCREDIBLE). Not to mention, at the time of writing it, it was one of the hottest smut fics I'd written (but... that may change once I publish my CORB fic).

1} Falling Back To You (Teen, 54K)

When a magician comes into their magic, they gain the ability to communicate with their soulmate. From the time they turn eleven, any message they write on their skin ends up on the skin of their soulmate. There are rules, as magic always has: only they can write to their soulmate and they can’t reveal their names to each other until they turn 18. Losing a soulmate connection is practically unheard of. When Simon Snow suddenly loses his, he knows just who to blame: it must be the doing of his ever-scheming roommate. For Baz Pitch, losing his soulmate is really just an inevitable side-effect of being a vampire. It confirms, once and for all, that he is a monster. After all, how can one still have a soulmate if they no longer have a soul?

Last year's @carry-on-big-bang fic is my favourite fic I've written. It has all of my favourite elements, soulmates, emo music, Simon saving Baz from Numpties, I was so proud of this fic when I finished. It was also the first fic I wrote that surpassed 50K, and I felt really good about that (though my COBB this year will most definitely beat that WC). I loved that I also wrote something I hadn't seen before in the fandom; The idea of Rejecting one's Soulmate. What would happen if you have a soulmate, but reject them (accidentally or not). I would love to see this trope more in the fandom, because there are so many other ways one could take this idea.

Ok tagging... I'm gonna tag some old friends and some new friends. I wanna get back into reading CO fic, so SEND ME YOUR BEST ONES!

@f-ing-ruthless-baz, @fight-surrender, @ninemagicks, @palimpsessed, @tea-brigade, @facewithoutheart, @martsonmars, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @urban-sith, and @confused-bi-queer.

[piecksz]

animeverse where eren is still in his cell and hange+others have an idea of bringing ina girl to fuc to 'loosen him up' so he can give info,hange has studies n research to back this up they bring you dressed scantily to go be his whore he knows why ur there n hates u so hes mean and ignores ur advances eventually he hate fucks u w his anger being directed at u from his situation choking xtreme degrading just being rough in general MEAN SERIOUS EREN NO FLUFF OR LOVE

catalyst

eren yeager x reader

warnings: nsfw, roughness, mentions of breeding, degredation, choking, explicit language

a/n: this is my first prompt request n i was vvvv nervous so pls go easy on me ok ok i hope i did your vision justice

“As romantic as this reunion is, it’s not a date, we need answers.” Levi’s words were austere, ricocheting off the passage walls as the three of you traveled deeper below ground. “He’s still a shitty-ass teenager. Hopefully isolation has made him desperate enough for female contact.”

You said nothing, and instead your eyes looked around fretfully. The chamber was inhospitable, forged from naked rock adorned with smoldering torches. Your minimal attire was inapt in its frigid ambience, so you walked clung to yourself, arms wrapped around your bare shoulders to retain as much body heat as you possibly could.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Levi questioned Hange, keeping his attention forward. He maneuvered through the sharp turns of the labyrinth, which gave you the impression he’d had many experiences down in the cells with his comrades.

Hange released a tremulous sigh. “It doesn’t matter. We’re out of options.” Their nervous tone had them looking over their shoulder, reassuring you with a placid smile. The gesture was thoughtful, considering it had felt like you’d been a third party to their strategic and undivided conversation, but it did nothing to soothe your hesitancy.

Levi and Hange had tracked you down and invited you to meet with them, urgently explaining that they needed your help with debriefing Eren after his insubordination and his blitz on Marley. He’d refused to disclose any further information about his conduct to anyone in the military, not even Mikasa and Armin, his closest confidants. So Hange suggested bringing in someone unbiased, someone not in the military to ruse more details out of Eren.

You were their prime choice after hearing how you and Eren had met when the Anti-Marleyan volunteers had arrived on Paradis. You’d been one of the several civilian volunteers that had helped with affairs and military proceedings at the port. There you’d met Eren and quickly forged a friendship, although Eren’s friends could have sworn there was more between you two than you would have liked to admit.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to their proposal. Perhaps it was your readiness to help the military in their righteous endeavors, or maybe it was for a different reason. Perhaps you were driven by your own selfishness. You wanted to see Eren again, even under the strange circumstances.

Eren’s cell was at the end of the corridor. Once Hange let out an abrupt “we’re here” your lips carried an eager smile, but your expression quickly faltered once you stepped forward and caught a glimpse of him in his cell. Even with the arrival of visitors, Eren kept his head forward while he sat on his bed, one arm balanced on his knee.

“Nice of you guys to pay me another visit. I’m starting to think you just miss me.” Eren’s voice was deep. So much deeper than you remembered. How long had it been? You couldn’t do the math.

“You know you’re our favorite problem child.” Levi responded humorlessly. He stepped aside for Hange to slip the key in the lock, and with one turn the door was swung open. “Don’t look so agitated. We brought you a gift.”

You made no efforts to step out from behind Hange and Levi, but Eren could see you clearly enough. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but maybe it was foolish of you to envision Eren slipping out of his troubled temper the moment you two saw each other again. Realistically, it never would have been that easy. Eren’s face remained hard, if anything it looked like seeing you made him even angrier.

Hange’s hand found its way onto your shoulder, supportive, but reminding you of the reason why you were there.

You shuffled forward, heels loud against the granite cobblestone. Darkness swallowed you as you crept in further, and you flinched at the sound of the heavy door being shut and secured behind you. Looking over your shoulder, your heart began racing at the sight of solid metal bars separating you from the outside.

“Let’s give them some space,” Levi suggested, stepping back from the cell.

Hange’s mouth opened to protest, but they were discouraged by Levi’s strong grip on their ear.

“We’ll be waiting outside if you need us, Y/N.” Levi announced through Hange’s squalls of pain. He gave you a comforting nod before his eyes drifted to Eren, and his expression toughened again. “Don’t try anything. Screams echo down here.” He paused and then turned on his heel to leave, tugging Hange’s ear before releasing it from his hold.

You watched nervously as the two of them disappeared behind the wall.

Hange’s voice was heard again further down the hall. “That hurt a lot, you know.”

It was the last remark you heard from the pair before you heard the door to the corridor close, and then worry flooded your system like it was on an intravenous drip. The Eren you were convinced you were meeting was replaced by someone you weren’t sure you knew, and suddenly you felt unsafe being alone with him, but you held an obligation to Levi, Hange, and the rest of the military that needed the information they expected you to gather.

You walked slowly, feigning a gentle smile to masquerade as though you were happy. It hurt to know that it was something you had to fake. You sat at the edge of Eren’s bed and took note as he made no efforts to shift away. That had to have been a positive sign.

“You look different,” you chuckled. “I like it.” The weak blaze from the burning torches casted a menacing shadow onto Eren’s stolid face. In the half light of the cell he appeared much older. You reached a hand out to brush away the loose wisps of hair that decorated his face, but your movement was stopped by Eren’s unyielding grip around your wrist.

You jumped, surprised at his roughness.

“Do you honestly think you can outsmart me?” His words were bitter.

You looked at Eren with wide, stunned eyes before blinking quickly and trying to laugh off your clear fright.

“What are you talking about?” You brought your unrestrained hand to his jawline, fingers tracing the shape of his face until your touch met the broad span of his chest, and then you felt gutsy enough to slip your fingers under the fabric of his shirt. “You’ve been down here too long. Not everyone’s your enemy, Eren.”

Your fingers wandered far enough until they met the defined curve of his collarbone and the robust muscle of his chest, but the moment was fleeting, interrupted by the jolt of Eren shoving you backwards. You fell off the bed and teetered, momentarily losing your balance.

“It’s pitiful that you’re letting them use you as a pawn.” Eren’s words were sharp, but venom in his words were bearable compared to the resentment behind his eyes.

He knew. He was smart, you should have known he would catch on. You created distance between yourself and Eren.

“What? They’re not using me as a pawn.” Your voice was unsteady. “I promise Eren, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you can help me understand if you just—”

“Then why are you here?” Eren rose from his bed to begin closing the distance you created, and your body began to quiver with dread.

You continued inching backwards until your tailbone collided with the edge of the cell’s sink, and you latched onto it with a sweaty grip.

“I’d rather be a pawn than be driven to do terrible things out of my own free will!” You had no choice but to admit what he already knew, and in seconds Eren’s hands were strung tightly around your wrists while he trapped your body against the sink.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly, blinking back tears. You searched for something past his eyes, just a modicum of vulnerability to at least let you know there was a person behind the Eren you were speaking to, but the once fiery hues of green and blue in his irises were now frosted to an unremarkable grey. If it was true that eyes were the window to the soul, Eren was truly void.

“Please let go.” You pleaded and writhed in his grip. “Eren, seriously let go. You’re hurting me.”

“I don’t expect someone like you to understand.” Eren’s face showed nothing but malevolence.

“Someone like me?”

Eren pushed you back further into the sink until you bit back a shrill cry. “Someone that’s never had to make any sacrifices.”

Tear after tear did nothing to ease Eren’s painful hold, and as obvious as it was that he was hurting you, he remained unconcerned.

“Who are you?” You shook your head. “This isn’t the Eren I know.”

“Then your first mistake was thinking that you ever knew me.”

Eren’s words were somber, but he moved swiftly, and in seconds he tore you from the sink and had you pinned up against the wall, it’s jagged surface digging uncomfortably into your cheek. His mouth hovered by your ear, and when he spoke his breath fanned over the side of your face.

“Scream and I’ll break you.”

So you said nothing as Eren’s knee slid in between your legs, parting them far enough so that he could press his thigh to your cunt. His hands retired from holding your arms behind your back, and they traveled to your ass, riding up the fabric of your dress until it was on full display.

“This is nice.” His voice was condescending as tugged on your dress's short hem. “They did a good job at making you look—,” Eren delivered a sharp spank to the exposed skin then he ran his hand over the area searing with pain, “—like a whore.”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a wail as Eren’s palm collided with your backside. He slipped a wicked finger under the thin material of your underwear and dipped his touch down between your thighs to stroke your folds through the cloth.

“Why are you shaking?” Eren used his free hand and slid it around your neck, gently at first, but you knew he wasn’t averse to tightening his grasp. “I thought this was all part of your plan.”

It had been, but your tremors weren’t the result of fear alone. You were scared out of your wits knowing that Eren had no reservations about harming you, and the thought shouldn’t have been as enticing as it was, but the combination of not knowing how he would choose to have his way with you had you feeling hot.

Your words were muffled through sobs, and your dazed mind didn’t make things easier, so all you could do was nod, which solicited a dry scoff from Eren. He hooked his finger around the fabric of your underwear and tugged it aside forcefully before parting your folds.

You released a feeble moan, and you could feel your knees buckling. If it weren’t for his tight grip, you were certain you would have collapsed. “Eren…”

“You’re wet already,” he said scornfully. Two fingers rubbed your clit mercilessly before slipping down to tease your entrance. “Acting scared meanwhile the whole time you were fucking dripping at the thought of me touching you like this. I don’t have to tell you how pathetic that is.”

Your breathing grew more labored at the anticipation of Eren’s long fingers entering you, pumping in and out of your hole while he ridiculed you for how desperately you tightened around his fingers, but you inhaled sharply when his touch disappeared.

Instead you felt Eren wipe your arousal on the inside of your thigh, and you had no time to question his behavior. A pitiful cry of surprise left your mouth as he grabbed the back of your neck, forcibly pulling you off the wall before throwing you in the direction of his bed.

“Move,” he commanded.

You staggered, looking back at him in alarm, but observed his directive without sacrificing any more time. Once you reached his bed, Eren followed closely behind, waiting until your back met the mattress to cage you in under his intimidating frame, and it then became clear that he held no other resolve than to use you for his own satisfaction. He disregarded your discernable ache and began unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs in one haste motion.

Eren’s large cock was already half-thickened with beads of precum glistening at its crown. He brought his palm to his mouth and spat in it before grabbing himself in the large curve of his hand to pump his length in preparation. He ran his tip up and down your folds, taking pleasure in the way you squirmed every time it prodded your tender clit, and then without warning he drove his cock into you, kindling a fervid cry that rose from the pit of your stomach and tore through your throat.

The sound echoed off the walls of the concrete box before ebbing into silence. Eren’s eyebrows creased in irritation while he looked down at you, and you suddenly harked back to his threat. You threw a quivering hand over your mouth, and shook your head, spluttering out a fragmented apology.

“I—Eren—I—I’m sorry…”

Yet he took no heed, and he began thrusting in and out of you, rocking back just to slam his hips into yours, over and over again until an uncomfortable pain grew from deep inside you and diffused over the span of your pelvis. All you could do was swallow your wails while your palm did it’s best efforts to smother your pleas. Fat tears ran down your cheeks and soaked into the sheets; your agony was hard to hide.

“Stop crying,” Eren barked through grunts. He pressed his hand to the hollow of your neck, fingers digging into your fleeting pulse. “You said yourself you have no problem being used.”

Sweaty fingers clutched his forearm, and you struggled against his dominance, breaths growing more and more shallow in an effort to conserve the air you were quickly losing.

He grabbed your wrists and held them together, pinning them to the mattress above your head with one hand.

“Maybe I should put a baby in you, then you’ll understand why what I’m doing is our last resort.”

Eren arched an eyebrow, but when you said nothing and only looked at him with glossy eyes a disdainful laugh slipped past his lips. He continued fucking himself deep into you, watching the way your body lurched with his movement, and then you felt his cock pulsate inside you.

It served as wordless notice that Eren was close, especially since he made no efforts to warn you. His eyes shut tightly, jaw hung slack while his groans intensified, and then he was cumming inside you, his hot seed flooding your walls as he claimed you.

You wound your eyes shut too, dark mascara-tainted tears staining your cheeks while you felt Eren thrusting through his high, making sure he had jettisoned every drop of his cum into you before he pulled himself out and wiped the creamy, white liquid that glazed his cock on the inside of your thigh.

“And when you report back, why don’t you tell them—” As if it were nothing he eased his weight off of you, taking a seat on the bed beside your shuddering body while he tucked himself back into his pants. “‘I let him fuck me pregnant because I’m a whore.’”