#increase iron levels quickly

[jacaranda55posts]

A Very Iron Rich Recipe For Iron Deficiency

Iron deficiency and zinc deficiency are two very common deficiencies in the world. Iron deficiency in women is especially hard to address due to blood loss from mensturation.

There are many factors contributing to the proper absorption of iron from the gut.

One major factor is not eating enough of heme containing foods that have the highest bioavailability of iron. These include red meat, seafood, organ meats and egg yolk.

The second problem is poor absorption. When the iron rich foods are eaten with plants or dairy the iron can not be absorbed efficiently. The plants fibre, polyphenols and Phytate bind with iron and prevents its absorption.

The third factor is the cofactors. Vitamin B2 and Copper are needed for iron absorption and if there is not enough B2 only very small amounts of iron gets absorbed. That is why eating liver is one of the best ways to raise iron level as liver is also very rich in vitamin B2.

I have always found barbequed liver to be more tasty that just pan fried liver. As the process of barbequing is always messy and involves a lot of time and especially cleaning, not everyone is keen to go through the process.

This method is simple, quick and does not involve a lot of time. Just wash and cut the heart and liver into small pieces, add some butter and then blowtorch each side.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

They killed our Jesus: A Lament for Generation Jones

Two things happened in 1980 that would ensure the iron grip of the fascist state would (first slowly, then quickly), tighten on the entirety of the nation's populace from that moment forward: Ronald fucking Reagan was installed as president, and a CIA-psyop'd Christian Nationalist shot and killed John Lennon.

Those two things are connected.

First let's look at exactly who "Generation Jones" encompasses, and specific moments in the generational timeline that defined our future. The wiki page is actually quite good. Here's an excerpt that really hits it on the head:

"The name "Generation Jones" has several connotations, including a large anonymous generation, a "keeping up with the Joneses" competitiveness and the slang word "jones" or "jonesing", meaning a yearning or craving.[17][18][19] Pontell suggests that Jonesers inherited an optimistic outlook as children in the 1960s, but were then confronted with a different reality as they entered the workforce during Reaganomics and the shift from a manufacturing to a service economy, which ushered in a long period of mass unemployment. Mortgage interest rates increased to above 12 percent in the mid-eighties,[20] making it virtually impossible to buy a house on a single income. De-industrialization arrived in full force in the mid-late 1970s and 1980s; wages would be stagnant for decades, and 401Ks replaced pensions, leaving them with a certain abiding "jonesing" quality for the more prosperous days of the past.

Generation Jones is noted for coming of age after a huge swath of their older brothers and sisters in the earlier portion of the Baby Boomer population had; thus, many note that there was a paucity of resources and privileges available to them that were seemingly abundant to older Boomers. Therefore, there is a certain level of bitterness and "jonesing" for the level of doting and affluence granted to older Boomers but denied to them.[21]"

That sets the stage, for the most part. I was four when JFK was shot on TV. I was a wide-eyed, open-eared five year old when The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan and The Supremes were on the radio. I was ten when we landed on the moon, and I wanted to be a hippie at Woodstock at eleven. "Basketball Jones" came out when I was 12...I jonesed for a telescope because SPACE and got one from that great maker of fine telescopes, KMart.

Generationally, we jonesed to be ten years older, so we could have had all the cool shit THEY had. They had The Beatles, and we had the solo Beatles, they had Hendrix, Cream, Jefferson Airplane, and we had the fucking BeeGees and disco. It's like we, as a generation, were fated to live The K-Mart Knockoff of Life, instead of the bright, shiny Brand Name One all our older brothers and sisters got.

MUSIC and SCIENCE were EVERYTHING to us as kids/teens...the Eshittification Of Music truly began in 1973, and proceeded through SynthPop Hell in the '80s. Rock and Roll heroes became hairdos with guitars. The rock heroes of the '60s were getting married and having kids and baking bread. AM Radio ceased to be something you listened to for music...it began to replace music with strident, screaming hate voices that would eventually engulf all of AM Radio 24/7/365.

We were continually thwarted most of the way from our young adulthood on, blatantly from the moments in 1980 that the vile Ronald Reagan and the core operatives of evil for the next 50 years took over, and then the moment of what I call "Our Generational Wounding", the murder of John Lennon.

Back in '66, John had inflamed all the grandpas of todays magats by saying (truthfully) that with teens, The Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Beatle hate became a Very Big Thing in Bumfuck South Texas. Record burnings, merchandise burnings, book burnings, all were commonplace. A very palpable, and very specifically "Anti-Beatle" hate got instilled in a lot of kids/teens at that point, so anything to do with the Beatles was taboo for "good people" (read Southern Baptists) to like.

That, of course, made me love them that much more, and to follow their paths from their breakup forward with 'bated breath, buying every 45 they put out, trying to save pennies up to buy their albums.

John was the radical hippie, the one who wanted peace, the one with the weirdo wife, the one who held a "Bed-In" for peace. In a very fundamental-to-our-generation way, John Lennon was OUR "Jesus".

Richard Nixon (president from '68 to '74) HATED him.

In 1971, there was a true mass consciousness that incorporated us along with our older siblings, a musical mass consciousness. I became aware of many things in 1969, specifically fall of '69, so I was experiencing all this in real-time, as it happened. When the news that The Beatles officially broke up came across the AM radiowaves in May of '70, it was A. Very. Big. Deal. Everyone watched everything they did from that point on with GREAT interest.

George put out "My Sweet Lord" and "What Is Life" (first record I ever bought), John put out "Instant Karma", "Mother", then "Power To The People", then "Imagine". Ringo put out "It Don't Come Easy", and Paul & Linda had "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey". EVERYBODY was a "post-breakup Beatle critic", panning Paul's very first solo 45 "Another Day", "Uncle Albert" was the followup. This band called Badfinger that sounded suspiciously like The Beatles appeared on American radio, and would make 1972 one of the final "Golden Years" of AM Rock Radio.

In 1970 we heard about this Elton John guy, by the end of '72, I was playing as many of his songs on the piano as I could figure out. My favorite album was (still is) "Madman Across The Water". When "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" came out in '73, a very noticeable shift was occuring.

Pop became much less political. It softened. It mellowed. It grew its hair long and lived in the country, learned how to grow potatoes and play the mandolin, making Country Rock the one lasting "legacy" of our sad sub-generation. By the time I graduated HS in May of '77, it was all there was on the radio, besides....disco. Oof.

One of my first TV memories was JFK getting shot. That was the Generational Wounding of our older brothers and sisters. When Mark Chapman (a Christian nationalist who changed the words of "Imagine" to "Imagine there's no John Lennon") shot John in December of 1980, it was the 2 in the 1-2 PUNCH done to our OUR generation. The first, of course, being the installing of Reagan and the evil Evangelical influence beginning in earnest.

It also began the buildup of the "Holy War" radical right, and an utter denial and clampdown of "hippie", of "counterculture" in general began, ensuring that John's vision of world peace would never come true, at least not on their watch. They had, effectively, killed OUR Jesus, along with our chances of the kind of security our older sibs got in spades. It also marked the unholy marriage of the evangelicals and the republican apparatus.

When Reagan got elected by virtue of the vile Newt Gingrich's 'Southern Strategy', a clampdown in earnest on the very SPIRITUAL EXISTENCE of our generation's incredible want and need, our collective JONESING for world peace began. Richard Nixon had planted the seeds. Nixon hated John Lennon with a passion. After Reagan was elected, I firmly believe Chapman was "activated" and they killed John as a Christmas present to Nixon.

It was after that, when the dream of a scientific future began to die, as well. When we were in high school, SCIENCE WAS EVERYTHING, so we wanted to be some kind of scientist "when we grew up".

I dealt with four years of college, majored in Biology, and in early 1981 realized my dream of being a Forest Ranger in Yosemite or some other national park somewhere, living in a cabin, giving talks to visitors about the biology aspects of the park....all that went POOF, almost instantaneously. My degree would get me nowhere, so I left before the end of that year and started working in record stores.

I was effectively the Cusack character in the movie about record stores, but it led to a dead end. Record stores weren't all that glamorous, and yes, the pay was dogshit. I tried working in record stores for the love of the music, while trying to BE a musician in a town FILLED OVER FLOWING with musicians, but that was quickly shat on by the beginning shrieks of late-stage capitalism.

It was like working in the record stores was my trying to keep holding onto the dream, our generation's dream...John's dream of world peace (along with my dream of being a working musician) died a pitiful death by the end of 1986.

What followed was nothing but a series of Jobs I Hated, and the beginnings of the true Jonesing for the life we'd been promised, because we didn't get the raises, the pensions, the house, the car, boat and camper, none of that shit for us. A life of being a low-paid, no-insurance drub, destined to be a life-long renter, unless a financial miracle happens.

So when people ask why we (as a generation) hate Ronald Reagan so much, let's just say I'm with Bugs on this one.

[torchship-rpg]

Dev Diary 18 - Zinovians

Right, let’s talk another major species! The Zinovians are the other really ‘big’ species in Torchship on the level of the Aquillians, the folks you’ll be dealing with often. They’re not as widespread or numerous as the Aquillians, but they’re a powerful and highly present political force in multiple astrostates, and the shared history they have with humanity have set us on a collision course.

The most important thing to know about the Zinovians is that they got exiled from their own homeworld by the Aquillian Empire about four hundred years prior to the events of the game and scattered across the stars. This has created several very distinct groups of Zinovians to encounter or play as, with sizable cultural, political, and even genetic differences between them. The majority settled in a single state which humanity allied with during their war against the Aquillians; the Zinovians are the reason we caught up to Local Space’s tech level so quickly. 

We promptly paid them back by making peace with the Empire instead of helping them take their homeworld back. They’re still not over it.

Oh, also; all the alien species names in Torchship are exonyms. The Zinovians weren’t originally called that by humans; it’s a (derogatory) descriptive name that emerged after the war to describe the structure of their government by unflatteringly comparing it to the guy whose bureaucratic decisions laid the groundwork for Stalin’s rise to power, and it stuck where the competing approximations of their endonyms failed. As is a general theme with the Zinovians, this is a mutual kind of awful; their name for us is, literally, “The Little Traitors”.

Biology

The Zinovians are another of the local humanoid species, though they’re a little more alien looking than the Aquillians, who could pass for human with a hat on. They’re one of the most diverse species in Local Space; like Humans, they have no taboo on genetic engineering and have used it to adapt themselves to a variety of physical and social environments. But there’s still some commonalities across groups.

Zinovians are cat-people, though this is less ‘cute kittycat girl’ and more ‘oh god, there’s a panther on the loose!’. Think the Puma Sisters from Dominion Tank Police. They have tall tufted ears, retractable claws on their hands and feet for both climbing and hunting, and a lot of subgroups have vestigial tails. They’re descended from apex ambush predators with a similar hunting strategy to leopards, complete with hauling kills up trees, which gradually developed complex social structures in response to changing environmental pressures. 

As the only major sapient species of obligate carnivores in Local Space, their transition to sapience was largely driven by the complex competitive politics of reproductive suppression to avoid overhunting, which gradually shifted toward tool use for reshaping the environment to increase hunting yields. Their version of the agricultural revolution was the invention of the fishing net and nomadic groups settling along coastlines.

That gives us our first trait, the aptly named Ambush Predator Evolutionary Outlier trait. This gives some pretty meaty bonuses to short bursts of physical activity, but means you take Fatigue more quickly in return.

Zinovians have distinct structures of long hair and short fur; their fur and skin share pigmentation, which can make it hard to tell which is which at a glance. The amount, lengths, and colouration of fur has a dizzying degree of variance (with colours mostly clustered in the red/yellow/green range) thanks to their ancestors having some pretty cool camo fur patterns; those largely became solid colours in the transition to sapience, but you get deliberate or accidental genetic throwbacks. 

The claws give you the Built-In Weapons Trait; these are serious business, about as dangerous as walking around with iron daggers on hand at all times. This is connected to the somewhat-muted Zinovian pain response; with sociability being a relatively recent evolutionary development, pain’s signalling function of ‘stop and get help’ is less neurologically developed, meaning that Stiff Upper Lip here represents quite literally feeling less pain.

Finally, Zinovian sexual dimorphism and gender politics are a fascinatingly complex subject. Their crash evolutionary development of sociability has left rather significant holdovers from when their ancestors were highly hierarchical matrilineal fission-fusion societies resembling something between spotted hyena clans and lion prides. The psychological developments are no more present than in humans, of course (though, like in humans, pop science evolutionary psychology does crop up socially), but some of the physiological aspects have stuck around.

So, first off, baseline Zinovian sexual dimorphism is a bit exaggerated compared to humans, with females being larger. This is a bit more than the relatively small differences between human sexes; their evolutionary adaptation trait suggests you can take Efficient Metabolism over Ambush Predator if you want to play the far end of baseliner male dimorphism, more optimised for wandering off to find groups with gaps in the hierarchy than challenging it. This dimorphism has been genetically reduced in some Zinovian groups and exaggerated in others.

The other big thing is that Zinovians have two sets of sex expression, termed ‘major’ and ‘minor’ sexes, which is a holdover from alternative reproductive strategies that developed around the strict hierarchies of their presapient ancestors. Essentially, about 3-5% of Zinovians naturally develop what we might term inverted secondary sexual characteristics, with no way to tell before they hit puberty. Like, naturally occurring transgender hormone balances, sorta kinda. And then you layer socially constructed gender on top of that, and it gets complicated, with different cultures having vastly different answers to the social status of sex expressions, transgender people, etc…

Yeah, it’s an excuse to roll up your sleeves and get on some next-level gender stuff with these cat people. Don’t let it be said we don’t know our audience.

In the Zinovian Sphere

Okay, first off, they don’t call it that. We call it that, because it makes them sound like an evil hegemony. They call themselves the Universal Republic, and call us the Human Star Empire. See? This is a whole thing.

The Zinovian Universal Sphere Republic is the largest political body the Zinovians have and are in many ways the ‘second power’ of Local Space, being the largest unified group after the Star Union in the aftermath of the Aquillian Empire shattering like a pane of glass. Unified is being kind of generous, though; the Zinovian Sphere is more like a loose federation of eight semi-independent ministries which once had specific duties in the unified government, but who have gradually developed into messy mini-states within the larger whole. 

The logos of the Ministries. Resources, Loyalty, Labour, Peace, Space, Life, Sanitation, and Security. Once specialized, all now form mini-governments in their own right, complete with their own militaries.

They symbolize a borehole mine, a watchful eye, a churning vat, an interstellar transmission, a rocket launch, cell division, water purification, and a watchtower.

The Universal Republic began with the ragged survivors of their homeworld’s uprising against the Aquillians being directed to a group of marginally-habitable high-gravity worlds in a star cluster near the Aquillian border with one of their distant rivals, to be used as a buffer state and early warning system. Their founding ideology of hopeful liberation was one of the many victims of starvation, decompression, dehydration, and radiation poisoning that characterised this exodus and the crash terraforming projects that followed.

As a direct result, the Universal Republic adheres to an apocalyptic socialism the Union calls Social Triage; resources must be held in common to be distributed to maximise return. In accordance with ability, disregarding need.  It’s the cold logic of a mass casualty event, applied to entire societies and lingering long after the emergency is over. It’s a relic of the days when a community leader had to stand up in the shelter and tell a thousand people they will only have calories for eight hundred, when neighbouring communities would exchange rosters of their population so unbiased choices could be made as to who gets to live. 

They’re past the days of anyone actually starving, but that, uh, is going to leave a bit of a psychological mark. It’s the reason why their government can be eight Ministries in a trenchcoat and yet survive; for all their squabbling, the Ministries are dedicated with absolute zeal to not rocking the boat too much, in case it means somebody somewhere doesn’t get fed, and are equally dedicated to the dream of one day getting Lost Homeworld back and making the fucking elves pay for it.

Republican Zinovians are divided into three Identities for gameplay purposes. The first two represent the civilian population of the Republic, and share a bunch of interesting Traits. You get Heavyworlder, because the 12 worlds the Zinovians were forced to settle on were largely hovering around 1g. You get Radiation Hardened (Lesser type, with Radiation Absorbing Structures) and/or Built-In Armour, which represents the subdermal steel plates which are affected by most of the population; these plates are largely cultural now, but at one time these were there to keep major bones from absorbing too much radiation on worlds with marginal magnetic fields. You’re encouraged to take Psychrophile/Thermophile, or any other trait which reflects the harsh nature of whichever world you ended up on.

You also lose some traits. In the Republic, genetic engineering efforts have at times been directed to reducing sexual dimorphism as part of various (largely unsuccessful) efforts to combat matriarchal social structures. Republican citizens also get their claws removed as a public health and safety measure at a young age; this is largely seen as a kind of sad-but-necessary reality of modernity, and a lot of defectors to the Star Union go get them regrown or have mechanical replacements installed.

The first of the identities is the Citizens; these are the regular people of the Republic, the politically disenfranchised common folk with no overt loyalties to any one Ministry. As with all the major powers in Local Space, the Republic is dealing with an overabundance of labour; in the Republic this manifests as waiting. You don’t want for anything vital, the local Ministries work together to ensure you have food, shelter, education, and distraction, but what you’re issued is what you get, and what you’re issued is decided by a bureaucrat somewhere. If you want more, you sign up for a waiting list for job openings in the Ministries, and you wait.

Which is why there’s a wild black market among the common citizens, hence a recommendation for the Entrepreneur trait. Polyglot represents how these colonies were haphazard multicultural endeavours which maintain enclaves carrying on the traditions of Lost Homeworld, and War Veteran represents how the only widespread employment available to common citizens was the recruitment drive during the war.

The second group are the Ministry Families. The Ministries operate as densely entangled networks of nepotistic family groups, with entire departments run by extended clans. The definition of ‘family’ is pretty loose; Zinovian norms about adoption are extremely flexible. Ministry families live marginally better lives than the regular Citizens in material terms, but do so under constant scrutiny and the intense expectations of their families, creating an intense political thunderdome of inter- and intra-family competition.

This gets so serious that it's reflected in the main Ministry trait, Augment. If you’re a ministry couple expecting a kid, it’s not uncommon for the clan matriarch to drop by and talk about the job they have lined up for them when they grow up, so wouldn’t it be a good idea to make sure they’re well-suited for the role? This dovetails well with just about any other trait; you’re encouraged to think about what you were destined for and how your family tried to achieve that.

The final recommended trait is Foreign Connections, a Trait which gives you both friends and enemies in another state. Maybe those friends are family who still have your back… or maybe they’re the department you betrayed your family to in order to smuggle yourself out of the Sphere.

A fun detail about the Republic is that they’re intensely maltheistic; organised religion was one of the main tools of the Aquillian occupation, and a lot of them were very devout people. Given the subsequent traumatic Everything, the natural cultural conclusion was that their gods had sold them out to the occupiers, and when Lost Homeworld is taken back they’re going to make a point to lock their deities inside the temples and light a match. In the meantime, they practise with effigies. Their kids make them out of paper mache. It’s great fun for the whole family.

There’s one last Identity within the Republic, and they’re very different from the other two. The Republican Marines are a cultural group inside the state descended from a seafaring culture who had been given a position as warrior nobility under the Aquillian hierarchy; the uprising largely kicked off because they got sick of getting increasingly sidelined for foreign mercenaries and defected to the rebels. The Marines are essentially a separate nation bound by treaty to the Republic to serve as an apolitical military arm; though in theory they’re all soldiers, in practice the majority of them work the logistics that allow a small handful of them to be the scariest power-armoured infantrymen in the history of the galaxy.

Seriously. The main narrative purpose of Zinovian Marines is to act as a thing the GM can put in a scene to say to the players “nope, you need to talk your way out of this one, because you aren’t winning this fight”. They have rotary chainguns with sufficient armour penetration to shoot up your reactor from the top deck of your spacecraft, and their armour has articulating ERA shields that double as deck-clearing fragmentation mines. Your redshirts going up against them is going to look like that sick Astartes animation on youtube. Just don’t.

Marines get to keep their claws, and obviously get recommended the War Veteran trait. It’s also noted that you are extremely visually distinct and it's impossible to hide it; Marines get elaborate facial tattoos and piercings specifically so they cannot shirk their duties to the Republic and try to become a civilian. 

In the CNFT

The Zinovian Marines are one offshoot of the seafaring warrior culture, one that ended up in the Republic. But a lot of them ended up elsewhere, either through surrendering to Aquillian forces during the war and being repurposed, or fleeing reprisals. Like most refugees in Local Space before the Star Union became a thing, those people ended up in the CNFT, alongside some other Zinovians who quickly became culturally integrated.

So what do a bunch of soldiers do when they arrive somewhere with combat experience but no money? They offered their services as mercenaries within the cutthroat anarcho-capitalist nightmare of the Territories, and they were good at it.

The modern SEA-WARRIORS OF ZINOVIA! are what happens when an entire culture’s financial security depends on being able to sell themselves as the best mercenaries in the entire galaxy, playing up their foreign heritage and biological quirks as an intergenerational advertising scheme. According to the marketing, the Sea-Warriors are a barely-civilised society of bloodthirsty warrior women whose rigid codes of honour demand they seek out war and conquest, and they can be yours for the low low price of $29.99! They wear the furs of exotic animals and get cool tattoos and carry four-foot long cultasses around in public and pick fights in bars with the hope of getting cool scars. Where the Republicans downplayed their sexual dimorphism with genetic engineering, the Sea-Warriors exaggerated it (mostly in that the ladies got even taller). They even gene-modded their tails back in and made them fuzzier to look more animalistic.

And it worked. Every politician has a Zinovian bodyguard, every criminal kingpin has Zinovian enforcers, and when you turn on the TV you’ll see Zinovian athletes playing full-contact sports, chasing perps in cop shows, and selling gene-therapy treatments at the commercial break. The CNFT’s image of physical prowess is a six-foot-five cat woman with tattooed abs and a massive machete leading a platoon in the conflict zone of the week.

The thing is… it’s not entirely an act. It started as one, sure, and the ones pushing the envelope will wink and nod and admit to exaggerating, but a culture can’t perform a persona this long without becoming true believers. Yes, they put the furs and swords away and fight in power armour under a swarm of autonomous drones like everyone else when it comes down to it, their mercenary corporations have slick PR operations and genetic modification programs and R&D departments, there’s Zinovians in suits negotiating with the government over protection contracts, but at the end of the day this still is a culture growing up with a self-image that the coolest thing they can possibly be is a barbarian warlord with a laser pistol in one hand and a sword in the other.

The first recommended Trait from all this is Augment, because you don’t keep your edge in a market like this without a bit of help. Imposing reflects the brand, obviously, and you still have your Built-In Weapons (getting declawed is seen as a fate worse than death). You have the fun Cultural Tool trait to represent the exaggerated cutlasses that your honour demands you carry in public, and War Veteran is an obvious pick for a culture where the Territorial Army and then subsequent mercenary work is the only real career path for most. 

Finally, you’re encouraged to take Redundant Vitals, because a lot of Sea Warriors opt into a series of genetic and surgical procedures to duplicate a few of their vital organs, just in case. It makes getting life insurance so much cheaper that it’s always worth it. 

The Greater Diaspora

The final set of identities is a bit of a catch-all for everyone else, and is more a high-level summary than the detailed Trait lists for other identities by its nature. There’s a ton of Zinovians living spread out in Local Space; descendents of refugees, migrant workers, and ancient settler projects. Like with the Aquillians (or the human wildcat colonies), it's an excuse to take the basic archetype and make it your own. One part of this characterisation is the fact that the Universal Republic wants very badly to use this diaspora as an arm of state power, and its various Ministries attempt to do so, with various levels of influence and success. There’s also a fair number integrated into the Star Union, many of them advisors who came over during the war and decided they liked it better.

Finally, there’s a note that the Zinovian Sphere is, well, not just a Universal Republic in name; they actually do have a number of alien species among their ranks as well, who will be culturally integrated at various levels using the above Identities. There’s a fair number of humans who have jumped ship to the Universal Republic in the same way, mostly people who think the Star Union is too pacifist or forgiving for its own good, or advisors horrified by the voters back home leaving their allies in the lurch. Said humans are largely integrating into Ministry families at this point.

[amasterpieceofmadness]

the new suit – tony s.

summary You and Tony are working together on a new suit as you end up kissing him. But before you can confess your feelings you get interrupted by Steve…

warnings none, fluff, mutual pining

wordcount 5.2K

______________________________________________________________

Tony slides his glasses back on as he’s fishing up on some new designs for his Iron Man suit. "You finished the sketches of the costume? Let me see." He leans over the desk while I’m sitting in a chair, he puts his palms on the table and takes a closer look over at my sketchbook.

“What do you think?” I ask as I lean back in my chair.

"Hmm." Tony stares at the sketchbook, rubbing his hands together as he takes in the designs, his brows furrowing and his mouth twisting into a thoughtful frown. "Very interesting. I see your thought process here. It's clear that you took inspiration from some of my old work, but you also managed to add your own touches. It's creative. I like it." He pushes himself off of the desk and looks at me from under his glasses with a small smirk, which makes me a bit proud to be honest.

“Oh, you haven't seen the best part yet” I lean over, nearly spilling my coffee, to get some more sketches out under a pile of other papers “There you are” I hand him the sketches and once again Tony leans in, craning his neck to get a better look at them. His face lights up as he sees them, quickly analyzing and taking in the details.

"Okay, I like the direction you've taken. I really like your new touches to my original style. It looks damn good, and the new armory you added sounds great!” He seems really pleased with my work.

“Thought you like it. The material for the suit is light but it can still protect you just as good and it is very resistance” I explain my sketches to him, occasionally looking up to check if he’s still listening.

Tony is visibly impressed, nodding in approval as he takes in the details. "Yes, that's a fantastic feature. The light weight and increased protection would be an asset in any battle. I also like the addition of the new weapons. It adds an extra level of versatility, and gives me a little more firepower. And it's great that you were able to do it all while keeping the suit light weight. That's always been one of my main concerns."

“So... when can we get started?” I ask overly motivated, looking up at him while sipping on my like 10th coffee today, even though it’s only 1pm.

Tony smiles and lets out a chuckle as he glances once again at the many sketches of his new suit. "Well, with this level of enthusiasm, I'd say we could start right now. Everything we need is here in the lab. The only thing we need to decide on is the color scheme. Do you want to stick with classic red and gold, or go with something different?"

I smirk and get up, ready to go to work. “No, no, the red-gold is iconic. We are not gonna change a thing there. But we should pick a darker shade for the red. This way the suit doesn’t look like a toy and it really brings out the golden accents I put there” I point to the sketches

Tony nods in agreement, looking at the sketches with a critical eye, taking in the subtle details I’ve added.

"Hmm, a darker red would definitely give it a more sophisticated and mature look. And it would also make the gold accents pop more. Let's go with a darker red, and see how it looks."

I nod in agreement and already walk through the lab, looking around for the stuff we need and turning on all the electronical devices. “Sounds good. But we can decide about the final color later on in the process anyway. Jarvis, put on some ACDC”

Tony chuckles at the unexpected command to Jarvis, but follows behind me as I walk through the lab, eyeing the different machines and equipment as I pass. "True that. For now, let's focus on getting the different parts of the suit put together. And ACDC is always a perfect choice for the mood in the lab." Tony says with a smile, as the iconic rock music fills the lab, filling him with a surge of energy.

We work diligently throughout the whole night, making steady progress on the suit. It’s nothing too unusual for the two of us since we both really enjoy working together and we are both night owls. And I have to admit that I love to work with him. We are very close and always fool around and joke together.

The sun is starting to rise, but neither of us seems to notice, as we’re too busy focusing on creating the perfect suit. We’ve made a lot of progress on putting the different components together, and we’re both beginning to feel a sense of accomplishment. Tony sighs and stretches and I can’t help but glance at his muscles. "I'd say that we should take a break and stretch our legs for a bit. We've been here all night, and I feel the need to move around a little bit."

I nod quickly and take my eyes off of him. If he noticed me staring, he just ignores it. “You can move around while testing the new gloves.”

Tony grins and nods his head, deciding that a physical test of the gloves was a great idea. "Eager, are we? Give me a few minutes to put them on, and then I'll go out on a test run."

“Alright. Jarvis, put on the test mode” Jarvis immediately snaps to attention and responds to the command in a calm and robotic voice. “Test mode initiated”

The suit is immediately powered on and the screens light up with different modes and data readouts. The hands and fingers of the suit appear to be moving and extending and retracting in a variety of movements. Tony's hands flex and move as he tests out the new gloves. I watch as Tony brings his arms forward and aiming the palms towards the ground. He holds the position for a few seconds, as a bright red circle emits from each palm towards the ground. The red rings come into contact with each other and create a force field that quickly expands and covers Tony inside of it.

A huge smirk crosses my face as I see that my plans work out and the new armory is working just fine. “What do you think?”

Tony chuckles in response to my smug grin. "I think it's brilliant. Your idea for the shield component was an excellent addition to this suit. Well done on this upgrade."

“Thank you” I chuckle and check the data on the screens again.

Tony flashes a wide smile as he looks at you with a hint of approval. That million-dollar smile that makes my knees weak every time. "You're welcome. I think your additions have really brought the suit to the next level.” Tony nods in agreement, glancing over at the different components that are stacked on the workbench. "The next step is to finish putting all the parts together and getting the full suit assembled. After that it's just a matter of testing the suit itself and making sure everything works properly."

I nod as well, approvingly, and look up at Tony. “What about you get some coffee, I get breakfast and then we can continue with the suit?”

Tony nods and smirks, excited to continue working on the suit. The day passes and Tony and I don't even leave the lab. Sometimes the other Avengers come in to check on us and they all smile at our teamwork. Currently Steve looks around the lab, smirking at Tony and me. “You know, the way you guys work together... it seems like there is going on more than just friendship”

Tony chuckles as he hears Steve's comment, but doesn't take his eyes off his work as he continues to assemble the different parts of the suit, testing and retesting every component for functionality and efficiency. He responds to Steve's comment without looking away from his work. "We have a good dynamic going. It's not hard to get in a groove and get things done with her on my team. That’s all."

I chuckle and walk over to Tony, handing him some more parts of the suit. “Just admit it, you would be helpless without me”

Tony laughs and jokingly rolls his eyes, as he takes the parts and slots them into the appropriate place inside the suit. He turns and looks at me, as he begins to test out the new upgrades. "Okay, okay, you've got me. I'm totally useless without you." Tony says in a sarcastic tone, though it's clear he's still enjoying the banter and he is thankful for my help.

I too chuckle and sit back down on my own working bench, getting back to work.

“You two are cute” Steve smiles, wanting to tease Tony a bit more.

Tony laughs again and blushes a bit as he hears Steve's comment. After all, we really do have very good chemistry. Tony doesn't deny the fact that there is some truth to Steve's comment, but decides to play it cool. He shrugs as he continues to work. "Thanks, Cap, but we're just friends. Nothing more." Tony says with a mischievous smile, as he continues his work.

“Whatever” Steve smirks and leaves the lab after looking around one final time.

Tony nods his head and chuckles as Steve walks away, but he can't help feeling just a little bit embarrassed, and a little bit excited, by Steve's comment. He glances over at me, as I’m working on my own component. We are just friends, but sometimes it's hard to deny that there is something between us. We continue to work together for another couple hours, until finally we have the full suit assembled. We take a moment to step back and admire our work proudly.

I grin widely in excitement, standing next to Tony. “It's finished! We made it, and it looks good!”

Tony looks just as excited and proud as me, as he grins and nods his head, looking over the full suit. It has a clean, classic look to it, while also incorporating all the new upgrades that they added. The red-gold color scheme stands out, and the added accents look like a perfect blend of old and new. Tony is truly satisfied with the finished product. "I'd say we did an excellent job, wouldn't you?"

“Definitely!” I say a bit overexcited and thanks to my clumsiness I nearly fall over

Tony can't help but laugh a little bit as he sees me stumble, but he quickly catches me with his strong arms and steadies me, supporting my weight. He looks down at me with a smirk. "Careful now. We don't want any accidents to ruin our finished product."

I chuckle slightly but can't help and blush a bit as I get back onto my feet, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “Of course not”

Tony smiles at the brief blush that he witnesses, though he is careful to keep his expression neutral and professional. He knows from experiences just how easily he can get distracted when I’m close. "So, what do you say, are we ready for a test run?"

”Yeah... Yeah! Let's test it out, getting you dressed up” I smile at him excitedly.

My enthusiasm is contagious, and Tony can't help but smile at my excitement. He starts getting changed, quickly pulling the different components of the suit on. The gloves snap into place, the boots secure onto his legs, and finally the chest and head components are in place as well. I just watch, occasionally checking the screens for the data. I can’t help but think he looks really handsome in that suit…

"Okay, I'm ready to test it out. Let's put this bad boy to the test.” Tony says as he is now fully into the suit.

I smirk at his choice of words and watch as Jarvis finishes securing the last component and the suit seals itself in place. The various monitors light up with different systems and readouts, as Jarvis speaks in his typical calm voice "Suit has been activated and all systems are at full operating capacity." Tony smiles and steps away from the workbench, giving the suit a brief visual inspection before turning to face me. "So, what do you think?"

“It looks damn good” and you too, I think to myself. “Jarvis, activate the testing mode”

Jarvis obeys the command, and the suit powers up fully, with the chest piece shining brightly as the repulsor rays light up. The arm cannons point forward, ready to act. It is indeed an impressive sight. "Alright, let's do this."

As soon as the face mask snaps into place, the suit is fully sealed and active. Tony lifts his hands into the air, as the repulsor rays shoot out at full power. The suit propels Tony into the sky, as the thrust lifts him into a high, smooth, stable flight.

I smile happily, we really did a great job. I walk around checking the diagrams on the computers “Seems like everything works just fine. Try it out some more”

Tony begins to fly around the lab, testing the different features of the suit. He begins testing out the weapons that you had installed as well. He seems pretty satisfied and I too smile happily, glad we did such a good job. “Jarvis, open the window hatch”

Jarvis immediately responds with a calm, robotic voice. "Opening window hatch." The window hatch opens up, allowing Tony to fly directly out of the lab and into the open outdoors. I watch as he flies through the window and up into the sky, his suit still shining brightly in the sunlight. He flies in a large circle around the lab building. I grin widely as I run over to the window and look outside, seeing Tony flying around in his new suit

Tony seems to be enjoying the test run as much as I am watching from the lab. He appears to be in full control of the suit, and seems to have no problems flying it around the outdoor space above the lab. The flight is smooth and stable, allowing Tony to make sharp turns and take advantage of the different features of the suit. He seems to be testing out every aspect of the new suit as he goes along. After a few minutes, he begins to fly back towards the lab window. He returns right through the window and lands in the lab, opening his face mask. I walk over to him, more than happy

“Wow! That looked so awesome!”

Tony nods his head as he pulls the mask off of his face. He is visibly thrilled and excited, both by the positive outcome of the test and by the fact that I were there to witness it. "It flew surprisingly well, and the different weapon systems were all functioning perfectly. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a test run this much. And it all came out looking so good as well. We did a great job!"

“Yes, we definitely did!” I hug him out of pure excitement and suddenly our lips meet for just a few seconds.

Tony is caught off guard by this unexpected kiss, but he immediately wraps his arms around me as he kisses me back for just a few seconds. A brief and innocent kiss, the result of the heat of the moment. Tony pulls his head away eventually, and we just stand there, staring into each other’s eyes for a few seconds. He smiles and I see a faint glimpse of his cheeks turning red. I quickly pull away, blushing heavily and stuttering. “Oh my... I... I'm sorry, I... I don't know what... I ...”

Tony laughs softly as he sees just how flushed I am, but he's unable to hide a brief moment of amusement. "Relax, it was just a quick kiss. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Just a natural reaction to the moment. No big deal."

I take a deep breath, my cheeks still bright red. “We… we did a great job. The suit seems to work just fine”

Tony smiles at the way I stumble over my words, as he notices that my cheeks still haven't stopped blushing.

"Definitely. The suit works perfectly. The results speak for themselves and it will definitely be a game changer. But I guess the suit isn't the only thing that will be changing..."

I turn to look at him and frown, asking concerned “What do you mean? Are you not happy with it?”

Tony laughs as he notices the misunderstanding. "Oh no, I'm very happy with the suit. I was referring to our relationship. It feels like it's been changing between just friends and something more. I mean, late nights in the lab together, our banters, glances and a quick kiss, and you're blushing like crazy.”

My eyes widen at his words and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. My voice shaky “Tony... I... I think this is just... the lack of sleep or the amount of coffee we drank or the excitement from the suit... I...”

Tony chuckles slightly and shakes his head, as he steps towards me and places his hands on my waist. "Is it really though? Or is it something else? I think we both know that this whole evening we've spent together had more to it than simple late nights and coffee.”

I look at him still dressed in his suit, my face flushed and my heart beating like crazy. “Tony...”

But before he can reply, Steve enters the lab and Tony immediately let go of me, stepping back a little.

“Oh hey! You finished the suit!” Steve says, rather impressed by the work Tony and I’ve done.

Tony stares at Steve with a friendly smile, knowing that he was caught in the middle of something but trying to play it off. "Sure did. Y/n and I just finished up the final tests, and we're very pleased with the results."

Steve looks between Tony and me, smirking softly and raising an eyebrow “Did I interrupt anything?”

Tony laughs as he shrugs his shoulders, pretending to be completely oblivious to the tension that was obviously there between him and me earlier. "Interrupt? No. We were just excited that the suit seemed to work so well, so we were discussing the final results and plans for the suit” he explains calmly and walks over to Steve, showing him the new suit he is still wearing.

“Yeah, we were just testing it out and the suit works pretty well” I smile at Steve as well, trying to hide my blush

Steve smiles back at me and gives a brief nod, as he continues to study my expressions. "Great! Seems like you both did an excellent job. I guess the suit isn't the only thing that got tested out tonight, huh?"

I blush and quickly turn around as Bruce also comes into the lab. “Oh hey, Wow! That suit looks good!”

The unexpected entry of Bruce throws Tony off for a quick second, as he glances over at him and flashes a look of surprise. He quickly regains his composure though, and smiles as he looks back over at Steve and Bruce. "Thanks. You’re just in time to see the new suit in action, if you'd like. Y/n and I just finished up the final tests for it."

As we continue to talk and show the features of the suit to Steve and Bruce, I notice the way that both Steve and Bruce keep stealing glances over at Tony and me with smirks in their faces. I know that at least one of them can clearly see the chemistry that is present between me and Tony. We both seem to be very close and comfortable together as we talk and laugh. After a while I start to feel tired and decide it's now time to get some rest. “Alright guys, I think I'll go get some sleep now. Tony, you good without me?

Tony's expression softens as he sees me starting to feel tired. He gives me a soft smile and nods his head. "Yeah, I'll be fine. You go get some sleep, and we'll meet back here tomorrow morning."

I agree and smile back at him before waving at Steve and Bruce before heading out of the lab and towards my room.

Tony watches me as I walk away, and he can't help but notice the way my curves hug tightly against my pants as I walk away from him. The vision in his eyes briefly lingers as all of the memories from the night come back to him. A faint glow appears in his eyes as he continues to watch me, then eventually he breaks the gaze and turns to Steve and Bruce.

Tony starts to get out of his suit and Steve smirks at him knowingly. Tony knows he's been caught, so he turns to look at Steve and raises an eyebrow in question, waiting for him to say what's on his mind. “So, what exactly did I interrupt before I came into lab?” Steve asks curiously and leans back against a work bench.

“Yeah, what was going on between you two?” Bruce looks confused yet curious between the two men.

Tony sighs as he realizes that he doesn't even have an excuse for this one. He can't deny the chemistry between us that both Steve and Bruce have observed. He just shrugs his shoulders, with a look of acceptance that shows he no longer has room to weasel himself out of it. "Just two friends enjoying some late night lab time. You know how it is. We just got a little carried away by the excitement of the suit."

“No, no... That seemed like something way more intimate” Steve smirks again and won’t let this go so easy.

Tony realizes that he's now in the position of having to either play dumb, or explain everything. Playing dumb in front of Steve and Bruce won’t work though. Tony sighs. "Look, Steve, some words have been spoken and there was a quick kiss. We both felt that this was more than just friendship..."

Both Steve and Bruce start to grin. “That's so cute. But you should talk to her, Tony.”

Tony's face flushes bright red. He hates that he is currently at the mercy of both Steve and Bruce with this whole situation. They are both grinning at him, clearly enjoying his predicament. He tries to act casual and gives off a soft sigh, acknowledging that Steve and Bruce are both right. "You guys... Come on, it wasn't that big of a deal. It just happened in the moment. Maybe it was all just a result of the late nights and energy drinks and the excitement of the suit."

Steve frowns a bit and looks more serious at Tony “The question is, do you want it to be just that?”

Tony looks over at Steve, knowing exactly what he's asking and fully aware of what his answer would be if he let himself be honest. He doesn't want it to be 'just that', but he can't just come out and say it in front of Steve and Bruce. Tony shakes his head from side to side, as if he can't really respond, though his mind is giving him a very strong, and very clear answer.

Both Steve and Bruce just smirk at each other, knowing the answer. Bruce sighs and pats Tony’s shoulder “Alright, buddy, get some rest. And think about it” Then Steve and Bruce leave.

After Steve and Bruce leave, Tony is left alone with his own thoughts, as he realizes that he now has to face the situation on his own. He can't keep trying to play it off as 'just a little accident' or "a result of late nights and energy drinks." It was all real, and he just has to find out how much it means to Y/n. He walks around the lab, considering everything that has happened over the course of the evening, and the different feelings that he feels for her. That brief kiss that had occurred. He's completely lost in his own thoughts as he walks to his room, pacing up and down.

Meanwhile I’m sitting on my bed and even though I’m rather tired, I’m wide awake, thinking of all the nights I spent with Tony in his lab. We were really good friends, but is that really everything? It was all getting to my head. I look over at the clock to see it's already 11:30 pm. I sigh and decide it was no use, so I get up and walk back to the lab, wanting to sketch some more ideas.

Tony is wide awake, as well. The memories from the night keep running through his head and he can't help but notice the way his heart begins to beat faster as he plays those memories back in his head over and over. He thinks about the late nights together where they would work on the suit, the jokes and laughs that they shared while doing so, the excitement that they felt and the brief kiss that they had shared, the blushing cheeks... Tony lies in bed for a while, struggling to fall asleep. He feels just a little bit energized from the night, but more so, he's feeling a bit restless as he struggles to process the events of tonight. He too notices how late it is and he decides to head back to the lab.

I'm sitting on the chair, hair up in a messy bun, looking over some sketches and trying to find some more new ideas to add. I'm so focused on the sketches that I don't even notice Tony entering the lab

Once Tony reaches the lab, he immediately catches a glimpse of the sketches and how casually I am seated with my hair up. I look very relaxed, almost as if this is normal for me to be up at this time in the lab, and Tony can't help but notice how the night had only brought out the most natural and casual side of me. He is also struck by how lovely you look in this setting...

Tony watches as I keep sketching, and he can't help but be charmed by how focused and completely lost I am in the task at hand. He finds himself feeling the urge to hug me and just rest his face against my shoulders to breath in my scent.

I’m just trying out some sketches of additional ideas on the suit when I suddenly feel a pair of strong, warm arms wrapping around myself and I jump slightly. “Shhh, it’s me” It's Tony, who has silently approached me from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. He rests his head on my shoulder, the feeling of my hair against his face feeling extremely reassuring. I can feel the heat of his body as his breath is close to my neck.

I let out a breath shaky breath “Hey…” Tony smiles as he feels my body relax in his embrace, and he doesn't even bother to explain his sudden move. He just enjoys the warmth of the moment, just as I am, as he wraps his arms even tighter around me, pulling me closer. “Aren't you asleep?” I ask curiously, ignoring the beating of my heart

"Nope." Tony answers softly, as he continues to tightly pull me into his embrace. He doesn't want to let go. He enjoys this moment of just being close to me without saying a word, and he can't help but breath in the scent of me that fills his nostrils. I relax more in his embrace and lean back slightly into him, closing my eyes and resting my hand onto his arms, feeling his muscles beneath his skin. Tony leans his head towards me, and he gently gives my cheek a small kiss, without saying anything. He feels my body slightly tense up at this, but I don't pull away. He can't help but blush at the fact that I’m allowing this to happen, as he pulls himself away, a small blush on his cheeks. I blush heavily and finally I turn my head slightly so now I'm facing him. We are just inches apart.

Tony stares deeply into my gaze as he can suddenly feel the intense connection between us. He can't help but be struck by everything that he's feeling when he looks into my eyes. He slowly moves his face forward, and he presses his lips onto mine, kissing me soft and gently. I can't help but blush heavily. The first kiss today in the lab was due to excitement, but this one now is different. This is a more intimate kiss, the kind where you slowly move forward, and you keep your lips connected to his. He pulls back after a few moments, just enough for our faces not to be touching anymore, but he is still close enough to feel my breath as it touches his face.

“What was that for..?” My voice is not more than a whisper, just for him to hear

"It was just... an urge to show you my appreciation." Tony answers softly, as he continues to smile at me. His gaze is still soft and gentle, but there's also this slightly confident tone in his voice which hints at the possibility that this 'urge' is something more. He pauses for a moment, as he sees my reaction to his statement, and he waits for my respond.

I smile at him softly “Then let my show you my appreciation” I turn around a bit in my chair, now able to move my arms and lay my hand onto his chest

He doesn't say anything in reply, but he leans forward and slowly presses his lips against mine once more, in a longer, and more intimate kiss. He can't help but let out a soft noise. He continues to kiss me soft and gently, wrapping his arms around me now and pushing himself even closer to me. The kiss feels very tender and affectionate, and he can't help but feel a bit vulnerable in this situation, as if this was all just too perfect to be true. We pull apart and look at each other. He shakes his head as he regains composure and smiles softly at me.

“God, I love that smile”, I say to him, laying one hand against his cheek softly.

Tony wraps his arms around me tightly. He leans closer and he presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closing and taking a deep breath. “And I love you”

My smile grows even more as I hear those words from him. “I love you too” I whisper and he pulls me in for another loving kiss before looking at me again with his charming smile. We continue to stand in the lab, holding each other and no one of us wanting to let go as we finally confessed our feelings to each other. And it’s just the perfect ending to the work on his suit.

A/N Here is my complete masterlist with all the ff, imagines, oneshots, smut and whatever. Check it out and leave a like :)

[novarowan]

Sagau draft

This is just a snippet of something that I wrote a couple of months ago, and I just want to know if anybody wants me to write more. I had a lot of fun writing it. Anyway, let me know what you think.

‘Well, isn’t this ironic?’ You think to yourself. You had just been reading SAGAU fanfics, (cause lets be honest, who wouldn’t want to be an ultimate creator god?) and now you find yourself running away from angry NPCs.

You gasped when you felt cold pain on your back. One of the knights had caught up to you and hit you with his sword. Choking from the sudden agony, you felt the adrenaline kick in and ran faster. You were coming up on the top of Starsnatch Cliff, and if only you could just jump into the ocean below, you could get away.

You heard them shout something at the same time that something popped up in your line of sight. You had no time to look at it though, and you couldn’t hear what they said. Your breathing was too loud to hear anything but your lungs working overtime.

There, THERE, THERE.

Without hesitation, you jump. The ocean was fast approaching, and you prayed that you would be able to make it out of this alive. If you entered wrong, it would be like landing on concrete from this height.

Feet first, you dropped into the calm waters.

You broke the surface with a gasp and began swimming to shore, laying on the sand in exhaustion.

“I can’t b-believe that fucking worked.” You let out a short, hysterical giggle before what looked like a black rectangle appeared in the corner of your eye. “What now?” You groaned. Today had been a long day already, and you had only been awake for an hour at most.

When you concentrated on it, it filled your vision.

“Welcome to Teyvat! As the creator of this version of Teyvat, your leveling path will be slightly different to the characters you have come to know. I am your handy assistant, Tutor, who will help you accomplish your ascension.”

“Uh… ok. At this point, I don’t think anything can shock me.” A little red dot appeared at the top of the rectangle, and a little arrow appeared on the right. You lifted your hand and touched it, a new message popping up.

“Quest one: Increase all elemental and physical resistances.”

“Hint: To increase resistances, you must experience the elements.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Your eyes shifted over to a new tab that came into existence after you finished reading. Touching it took you to a screen with a lot of stats.

Max HP:                      3,027

ATK:                             89

DEF:                            94

Elemental Mastery:      0

Max Stamina:              240

A new message popped up on the message screen. You quickly switch back over.

“ +1% Physical Resistance.

Total Physical Resistance: 1%”

You stare in disbelief. You had no idea what you could have done that you give you any sort of resistance. It wasn’t until your wound started to throb that you put the pieces together. “Are you fucking kidding me.”

“I have to literally get attacked with every element to complete this quest?”

“Correct.” The message came through on the screen before disappearing.

“So you can answer my questions.”

“Within reason. That is why I am called Tutor. I am created by the system to help the chosen players.”

“So there are others like me?”

“Correct. There were 1,000 players chosen to take this path.”

“Would you like to see your current talents?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” A new tab appeared, and you moved over to that screen.

Resurrection: In case of death, Player will resurrect within 24 hours in a safe location.

Blessing of nature: Taking damage will increase resistance to that type of damage permanently.

“There’s only two.”

“Indeed. As you grow and ascend, you will receive more.”

“There is a chest 127 feet to your left that contains a dull blade. Please retrieve it to complete your quest.”

You blink and the screen disappears. You can see a little black dot in the corner of your eye. You quickly figured out that focusing on that dot opened the screen, and looking elsewhere closed it.

“Well, let’s get to it then, shall we?” You couldn’t say that you were necessarily excited about the prospect of intentionally being attacked, but if it helped you out, then it helped, end of story.

In the distance, you could see a little wooden chest. Upon opening, it did contain a sword, along with a couple of miscellaneous items.

“There they are!”

You whipped your head around to see a group of knights and…

“Oh shit.”

The acting grandmaster. Well, you were screwed. Might as well see if Resurrection worked like it was supposed to.

Standing your ground, you watched warily as they approached you. Your back was still hurting you, but you tried not to let it show.

“Imposter.” Jean spoke with authority. “Stand down and come with us peacefully.”

‘I have to get her to attack me.’ You thought and put on an arrogant air.

“And why would I do that, exactly? Have I committed a crime?”

Jean didn’t waver, or show much emotion other than the stern animosity on her face. “You are being charged with the heresy of impersonating our creator.”

“That’s a little bit overplayed, don’t you think?”

You swore that you had read so many SAGAU fics that you could quote every reason they had for killing you before they could say them.

“What?” Jean’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“I mean, do you really think that it’s my fault that I just so happened to get this exact face? You should blame my parents for being horny and conceiving me.”

Her mouth dropped open is shock and disgust. “Watch what you say, imposter.”

“Hey Jean, guess what?”

She glared at you.

“Your creator must be an insecure little bitch to have you guys kill anyone who looks like them.”

She moved faster than you thought she would. One second she was standing ten feet away. The next second, she was right in front of you, sword glowing teal and murder in her eyes.

‘Oh shit.’

A line of pure anemo energy slashed across your abdomen and chest, painting the sand red and drawing a scream of pain from your lips.

                                                            “+1% Anemo Resistance.

                                                            Total Anemo Resistance: 1%”

Searing pain unlike anything you had ever before. Distantly, you thought ‘Oh come on. Only one percent?’

“Is that all you got?” You grinned through the pain. She lifted her sword and swiped it across your face. Everything went black. She must have gotten your eyes. “C-come on, Jean. Really go at it.”

Sharp pain in your shoulder and your arm went dead.

“Physical Resistance +1%”   “Physical Resistance +1%”  “+1% Anemo Resistance.  “Physical Resistance +1%”  “Physical Resistance +1%”  “+1% Anemo Resistance.  “Physical Resistance +1%”  “Physical Resistance +1%” “Physical Resistance +1%”   “+1% Anemo Resistance.  “Physical Resistance +1%”  “Physical Resistance +1%” 

                                                “Total Physical Resistance: 10%”

                                                “Total Anemo Resistance: 4%”

                                                      Resurrection activated

                                                             23hrs 55secs

                                                                  ………

                                                                    10secs

You shot up into a sitting position, gasping for air and clawing at your chest. Your eyes darted around you, zeroing in on the weak light pouring into the cave you woke up in. You sighed in relief and flopped back down, accidentally hitting your head on a pebble. “Ow, What the fuck?”

                                                      “Geo Resistance +1%

                                                   Total Geo Resistance 1%”    

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You rubbed the back of your head and groaned. The humor of it wasn’t lost on you though, and you let out a giggle. “Hey Tutor?” The message box opened.

“How can I help you, Player?”

“If I sit under a waterfall, will that give me hydro resistance?”

“Yes, the flow of hydro energy would suffice to give you resistance. Note: The rate of resistance gain would be slower than if you were hit with pure hydro energy.”

“Thank you.” The message box disappeared. It was time to find out where you were and what to do next. Crawling from the little cave, you struggled to stand. Your legs were stiff and wobbly. Craggy cliffs and clouds filled your view. “Liyue, huh? I wonder who I’ll pick a fight with next?”

It took about two days to reach Liyue Harbor, but before you entered the city, you checked your screen.

                                                    Total Pyro Resistance: 0%

                                                    Total Hydro Resistance: 3%

                                                  Total Electro Resistance: 0%

                                                  Total Cryo Resistance: 0%

                                                  Total Dendro Resistance: 1%

                                                  Total Geo Resistance: 4%

                                                  Total Anemo Resistance: 11%

                                                  Total Physical Resistance: 15%

You had obviously run into some monsters on the way to the harbor, and that had increased your resistances. Not much, but at least if you ever ran into Xiao, it would hurt a bit less when he beat the shit out of you. Come to think of it, that seemed like a very likely possibility while being here.

[anto-pops]

Mallowsweet Muses PART 2 - Sebastian Sallow/Ominis Gaunt/Female! Reader

Summary: Ominis knew he was being unreasonable. He knew he was acting like a petulant child and taking out his frustrations on Sebastian purely because he was an easy target. But Merlin– his trousers were tight. There had been one goal in his mind when he came down here, and now that he’d been interrupted, his composure was slipping. He was being intentionally cruel on the off chance Sebastian would let him leave as a result. 

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit content, F/M/M, polyamory themes

Full fic can be found here on Ao3! Part 1 of Mallowsweet Muses can be read here on Tumblr. Part 3 now complete! 

Ominis was ready to throw himself in the lake and let the Kraken have away with him. 

It had been an entire week since his unintentional bout of eavesdropping in the vivarium. One week since he had listened to you give sloppy head to Sebastian and heard the depraved comments he whispered in your ear, before he had shamelessly fucked you over the table. All with him laying not five feet away. His mind hadn’t stopped reeling from it since, and maintaining his aloof facade had proven to be more difficult than he’d originally thought. 

Hell, he’d been so preoccupied with controlling his raging boner after the fact that he’d barely been able to pretend to be pissed about his Herbology notes. 

Since then, he’d spent an increasing amount of time separated from the two of you. Not because he was mad– far from it, in fact– but because he was confused beyond belief at his own reaction to the whole thing. 

He liked it. All of it; your muffled moaning against Sebastian’s hand, and the wet sound of him pumping into you. The almost silent scrape of the wooden table against the floor had made Sebastian’s slow and steady pace easy to keep track of, and the man’s own lust-filled groans had lit a fire in Ominis’ gut that had yet to lessen, much less disappear. 

Sighing in frustration, he let go of his magical hold on his dictation quill, the feather falling to the table silently. His head tipped forward to slam down on his notebook, the dull thud echoing through the sparsely populated library around him. Ominis had managed to find a cozier corner on the second level, far from the activity that overtook the main floor, and he had been here for the better part of two hours trying to distract himself before his mind had started to wander. 

Right back to you and Sebastian. His cock twitched in his pants then, demanding attention. 

He groaned, “Damn it.” 

Common decency overpowered his baser urges, and with a hurried flick of his wand Ominis charmed away his books and quill, stuffing his hand down his tight trousers to quickly readjust himself into a somewhat more comfortable position before he was peeling out of the library. The dorms were out of the question– too many students were likely holed up there for the weekend, and the possibility of running into Sebastian was too great. Silently praying that the two of you had gone on a date somewhere far away, he made his way to the Undercroft.

As the iron gate rose, Ominis went rigid like a deer, already about to flee as the sound of Sebastian’s voice mid-conversation registered from somewhere inside. 

“I’m not sure, but he wasn’t in the dorms this morning. Imelda pretty much confirmed he was in the Great Hall early though.” 

“So he’s avoiding us–” you said, before the screaming gears of the gate cut you off, drawing your attention to the entryway. Ominis could only assume as much, considering it had suddenly gone deathly silent. 

You barely had time to catch a glimpse of the red glow from Ominis’ wand before he was pivoting on his heel and making a break for the exit. “Ominis, wait!” 

Sebastian shot up instantly as he followed your gaze, watching with a mixture of anger and confusion as his best friend fled down the hall as quick as his legs would carry him. All week he had been trying to figure out what the hell could have caused Ominis to draw so far into himself– to the point where he would be actively avoiding his two closest companions– only to come up empty handed, everytime. The man’s ability to maintain a straight face was impressive most days, but Sebastian had grown tired of it after the third night in a row of being blown off by Ominis to ‘study’. 

Who the fuck studied at midnight? Not Ominis Gaunt, that’s for damn sure. He was indisputably intelligent, but he never cut his sleep short to slave over books. Sebastian knew him too well to believe any of his half-assed excuses. 

“Accio!” Sebastian expertly cast the spell as Ominis turned to escape up the stairs. It caught the material of his robe and summoned him backwards down the hall, indignant shouts and curses flying off his lips as he was unceremoniously dragged across the stone floor before coming to stop in front of you. 

“Are you out of your mind, Sebastian?! What the hell is wrong with you?” Ominis shot to his feet with a piercing scowl, hurriedly adjusting his robes and smoothing out the material of his trousers.  

Sebastian’s eyes darkened with obvious anger, his fist clenching around his wand as he gestured wildly. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! Hiding from us all week and then sprinting to get away just now? Start talking.” 

“It’s none of your concern. How dare you presume to yank me around like some common dog– not everyone likes being at your beck and call all the time, you know.” 

The brunette recoiled like he’d been slapped, but all you could do was watch with wide-eyed shock as the two men’s bickering devolved into a full blown argument. 

“What the fuck are you even talking about? Where is this coming from, Ominis? What did I do to piss you off so bad? Things were fine a week ago then out of nowhere you’re acting all uptight and avoiding us like the plague.” 

“I wasn’t pissed until about ten seconds ago, you pompous ass! And who says I need to spend every waking moment with you? I’m allowed to have time for myself. Get off your high horse, and if you ever do something like that to me again, I’ll transfigure you into a roach and step on you.” 

Ominis knew he was being unreasonable. He knew he was acting like a petulant child and taking out his frustrations on Sebastian purely because he was an easy target. But Merlin– his trousers were tight. There had been one goal in his mind when he came down here, and now that he’d been interrupted, his composure was slipping. He was being intentionally cruel on the off chance Sebastian would let him leave as a result. 

“Every waking moment? What the hell, Ominis– if this is some last ditch attempt at graduating friendless, you’re going to have to do better than that– you’re not leaving until you come clean about whatever fucking resentments you’ve clearly got bottled up.”

“I said it’s none of your business. Now if you’re finished using me for target practice, I’ll be going–” 

“Did I do something?” Your timid voice from somewhere to his left was like a punch to the gut, making him halt his movements. “If I did, I’m sorry. I know we’ve all been stressed because of our O.W.L.s, but if I said something last week or did something to offend you, I really am sorry, Ominis.” 

Dammit. This was the worst case scenario for more reasons than one. Sebastian being pissed with him was one thing, but having you believe he was upset because of you, was unacceptable. The angel on his shoulder was smacking him for being so immature and cursing him for putting that watery tone in your voice. 

You and Sebastian watched dumbfounded as Ominis threw his hands into his hair and raked the neat strands into an unkempt mess. Suffice it to say, you’d never seen him so frazzled; Ominis was normally the picture of groomed elegance on every day ending in ‘Y’, and as your eyes roamed over his disheveled form, you took in his flushed cheeks and the shaky rise and fall of his chest. When he pushed his hair back from his face, the action caused his robe to fall open further, and you couldn’t help but notice the painfully obvious bulge in his trousers.

Oh, wow. 

Ominis hissed through clenched teeth, “Sweet fucking Merlin– I’m not angry with you– either of you. I’m just confused about something right now and it isn’t anything I want to bring you two into, so please, just drop it and let me leave.” 

Sebastian looked exasperated. “Confused about what? Since when are we keeping secrets from one another? I thought we were past that, let us help you, Ominis.”

You started to interject, “Sebastian–” 

“You can’t help me with this! For fuck’s sake— I heard you last week, alright?!”

The declaration bounced off the walls of the Undercroft, silencing you and Sebastian both as a brilliant red hue swept across Ominis’ otherwise pale cheeks. Sebastian’s mouth fell open, and you found your own cheeks warming aggressively as you cast a panicked look at him. 

Sebastian’s genuine shock lasted for all of two seconds before he was schooling his expression into something less petrified, and you followed the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “You… heard us? In the vivarium?” 

Ominis exhaled roughly, awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet in a combined attempt to calm the fuck down and to alleviate the mounting pressure between his legs. “Yes.” 

“And you’re confused about what part of that, exactly?” 

His crude remark pulled an affronted gasp from your throat, but before you could tell him to keep his mouth shut and at least try to be understanding, Ominis was replying evenly, “I’m confused as to why I liked it.” 

Maybe you had imagined it, but you could have sworn the sound Sebastian made at the back of his throat was one of interest. When you looked over to him, you found his gaze trained on the tenting fabric of Ominis’ trousers, a curious glint reflecting in his eyes. Part of your mind was still reeling from embarrassment at the entire situation, but another far more shameless part of you was enthralled by your boyfriend’s reaction to his best friend’s confession. 

Frankly, you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little intrigued by Ominis’ words too. 

“What about it did you like?” Sebastian asked, his voice noticeably rougher than before, and you and Ominis both had physical reactions to it. While you seemed to melt at the sound, instantly enticed by whatever dirty thoughts raced through his head, Ominis tensed, visibly mulling over whether answering was worthwhile. 

“Sebastian,” you injected yourself into the moment, drawing his attention back to you. The smoldering expression on his face was promising, but for Ominis’ sake, you tried to give the kind-hearted Slytherin an out. “Don’t make him any more uncomfortable than he already is.”

“I– it’s fine,” Ominis muttered, angling his head in the direction of your voice. “Does it make you uncomfortable? That I overheard the two of you?” 

Did it? While the initial embarrassment was impossible to deny, there was a very big, very brazen part of you that liked the idea of having an audience. After all, hadn’t you and Sebastian both teased one another with the threat of Ominis catching you? That day in the vivarium certainly hadn’t been the first time. Suddenly your mind was flooded with fantasies of Sebastian’s hands gripping your hips, digging into the skin there to pull you back on his cock with brutal precision, before pistoning you forward to swallow around Ominis’ equally hard member.

Oh, Merlin. 

Sebastian seemed to lean in closer in anticipation of your response. Heat rose to your cheeks as your gaze flickered down to the ground in an attempt to hide the growing interest on your face. “No. I don’t mind that you listened.” 

“Nor do I,” Sebastian added, and when your wide-eyed stare landed back on him, there was pure mischief etched into his expression. “I kind of wish you’d said something back then, to be completely honest with you.” 

Ominis reeled back a step, his blush amplifying tenfold as his grip on his wand blanched his knuckles white. “Whatever you’re playing at, stop it. I feel bad enough that I let myself behave so boorishly without your jesting. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you both, I’ll get over it, but now you know, so please excuse me–” 

“What did you like about it?” you echoed Sebastian’s earlier question, your own curiosity driven by the lust-fueled fantasies that whipped through your mind, and Ominis’ mouth hung open in silent shock. “Please, tell me. I want to know.” 

“What’s the matter with you two? I’ve been ripping my hair out all week while fighting the worst urges of my life because I feel too ashamed to jerk off to the memory of what I heard– and now that you both know, you want feedback?”

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed, Ominis. If anything, we’re the ones who should be apologizing,” Sebastian threw out, his tone genuine. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression I’d be angry with you over something like this. You’re my best friend– I trust you more than anyone– and if it had to be someone in this blasted school that had to hear us, I’m glad it was you.”

“Let us make it up to you,” your sultry voice came from directly in front of him this time, and Ominis’ breath caught somewhere in his throat. Nothing about the way you were speaking implied that ‘making it up to him’ wouldn’t involve his cock. For the first time since entering the Undercroft, Ominis let his hand drift south to his achingly hard member, squeezing it softly through his trousers. 

Merlin’s beard– was he actually considering this? Interestingly enough, Sebastian had yet to voice his displeasure at the thought of his girlfriend handling another man’s cock– and Ominis decided that had to be the strangest thing about this whole thing. Where was the possessive, alpha-male persona Sebastian so frequently displayed when other men approached you? He was the last person Ominis imagined to be okay with sharing, so to speak. 

“Why are you doing this?” It was a vague question, but one he needed to voice all the same. He needed to know this wasn’t some sick, convoluted game the two of you were conspiring to play at his expense. 

“You’re clearly in a predicament, and if you really did listen for as long as you say you did, you already know she can help with that.” Sebastian purred the statement, the low growl in his voice causing the slick to build between your legs, and even Ominis couldn’t suppress his shaky exhale. 

“How are you so okay with this? I can’t– I don’t want to make things awkward– I can just as easily take care of this myself.” 

Your hands came to rest just above Ominis’ sternum, and he jumped at the sudden contact, his heart thrumming wildly beneath your palms. His lips parted around a small gasp as you wandered lower to the waistband of his trousers, nimble fingers dancing between the fabric and his smooth skin. “Do you really think we haven’t thought about including you before? Where do you think the dirty fantasies of you catching us came from?” 

Ominis’ mind went blank for a split second when the tip of your finger gently brushed across the head of his cock through his undergarments. He hissed, “You’re telling me you’ve wanted me to walk in on you before?” 

It was Sebastian who spoke next, his voice heavily laden with arousal as he watched his best friend fall apart at your touch. “Hell yeah, we’ve wanted you to join in too. Trust me Ominis, we’re more than okay with bringing you into the mix. I’ve kinda been dreaming about it for a while now.” 

It was a rare treat, getting to see this side of Ominis. Sebastian could recall walking in on him jerking off once when they were younger while spending their summer in Feldcroft. The blonde boy had been spread wide on his bed, hair mused and face bright red, with one hand furiously jacking his impressively long and uncut cock while the other cradled his tight balls. The memory had stayed with Sebastian all these years, and he sincerely hoped Ominis was still as vocal now as he had been then, because his broken moans from that day had continued to haunt Sebastian with enough sleepless nights to last a lifetime. 

Rational thinking failed to triumph as Ominis let himself relax into your touch, his shoulders dropping slightly when your palm came to lay flat against his cock. Your fingers pressed lightly, ghosting over the throbbing head and drawing a needy sigh from him. Sebastian moved quickly so that he was behind Ominis and wrapped his arms around the man’s slender waist, tugging him securely against his chest before his hands started to explore. 

Ominis gasped at the sudden feeling, but Sebastian’s firm hold prevented him from arching away, and even if he could, you were still leaning against his front, working him into a frenzy with featherlight touches that threatened to make him combust. He was sandwiched between the two of you, effectively at the mercy of his two closest companions.

“A-Are you sure about this?” 

“Absolutely,” Sebastian murmured into the crook of Ominis’ neck, and you gave the blonde’s cock one more affectionate squeeze before you were sinking to your knees in front of him in silent confirmation. “So tell us then; what did you like most about what you heard last week?”

It was impossible for Ominis to decide on one thing in particular when he felt your fingers move to unfasten the button on his waistband. The scrape of your nails over his hip bones was positively tantalizing as you swiftly tugged his trousers down to his knees. Sebastian’s broad hands slid under his shirt, trailing along Ominis’ bare torso as he gripped at whatever skin he could. When he grazed his thumb over one of Ominis’ nipples, the taller man’s breath hitched, and you watched in awe as his cock twitched against the cotton prison of his briefs. 

“Fuck– I don’t know, I liked all of it,” he fought back a whine as your hands abandoned his swollen cock to slide up the sensitive skin at the back of his legs, dragging your nails softly as you went. The muscles in his stomach tensed, and he shuddered, “I liked the sounds.” 

“What did it sound like?” Sebastian whispered, and when you peered up to steal a glance at him, you were pleased to find him watching you with hooded eyes over Ominis’ shoulder. The look was primal and hungry, and so at odds with the bewildered expression that Ominis bore. 

Those milky blue irises pinched shut as Ominis willed himself to maintain his composure, his eagerness to have your mouth around him revealing itself in the form of his shallow panting. “It sounded wet, and sloppy. I liked listening to her choke around you, it was–” 

He was cut off by a guttural moan when your hands finally returned to his front, your fingers catching in the elastic of his briefs before you were sliding the attire away oh-so-slowly. 

When Ominis’ cock sprung free, he sighed with relief at the same time you licked your lips, and Sebastian was already committing the entire scene to memory because fuck– this was hot. His best friend was leaning against him while his girlfriend prepared to stuff her beautiful mouth with his equally stunning cock, and all the while, Sebastian’s own erection was standing at attention between the shapely curve of Ominis’ ass. 

He really hoped he wouldn’t cum in his pants before getting a chance to see everything play out. 

“Is that what you want?” You asked Ominis from your kneeled position before him. When you took his shaft in your hands to give him a testing pump, he bucked his hips eagerly to meet your touch, and a wicked smile broke out across your face that nearly brought Sebastian to his own knees. 

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, I want that. I want all of it– your mouth and Sebastian’s hands– whatever you’ll give me, please.” 

Sebastian couldn’t fight the desperate roll of hips as he ground his now solid cock against Ominis at the request, and the bold movement had the man arching his back to press harder against Sebastian while simultaneously angling his hips to grant you easier access to his leaking member. You obliged, convinced that he had waited for this long enough, and wrapped your lips around the head to give him a toe curling suck. 

Ominis’ head fell back against Sebastian’s shoulder with a broken cry, his knees already trembling on either side of you— and it was a good thing Sebastian was holding him upright because you were positive he would have collapsed otherwise. Spurred on by his heady gasps, you pushed forward more, hollowing your cheeks around Ominis’ impressive length before you pressed your tongue against the sensitive underside of the head. 

“Fuck– damn, that’s perfect–” he moaned his praises into empty air, the hair on his arms standing on end when he felt Sebastian crane his neck to place wet, teasing kisses along the curve of his jaw. He sucked and bit at the skin there, the sensation bringing Ominis to new heights at the same time you began bobbing your head on his cock in a steady rhythm. 

There was nothing in this world that could have prepared Ominis for any of this. To go from sulking around the castle for days, to suddenly being wrapped in Sebastian’s arms with him sucking bruises into the column of his neck; all the while, you were holding your mouth fast to his cock, drawing wanton moans and breathless gasps from his lips with each stroke of your skillful tongue. It was like his wildest fantasies come to life– and for once, he refused to give a shit about the repercussions. 

With a low moan, Ominis surrendered to the feelings overtaking his limp form, allowing his fingers to slide into your hair before fisting against your scalp to pull you harder onto his shaft. You were prepared for him, suppressing a gag as you allowed Ominis to stuff more of himself in your mouth, and you hummed around his pulsing cock as you brought your hands up to stroke what you couldn’t fit. 

You began to suck him off like that, watching intently through your lashes as Ominis writhed under your attention and arched against Sebastian, his stomach tightening and tensing in time with each steady dip of your head. The hand he didn’t have fisted in your hair was gripping at Sebastian’s forearm for support as his hips rolled brainlessly into the even tempo of your mouth. Maybe you were crazy for thinking so, but Ominis looked rather pretty as he fell apart. He was noisy, too, gasping soft praises and breathless moans whenever the head of his cock brushed the back of your throat, and his fingers tightened in your hair at the feeling. 

“You two look so fucking good right now, you have no idea.” Sebastian had paused his ministrations against Ominis’ positively wrecked neck to watch you hungrily through his hooded eyes. Your idea then was easier said than done, but you did your best to weasel one of your hands behind the curve of Ominis’ ass to grab at Sebastian’s own neglected member. Your efforts were rewarded with an unsteady groan from the freckled man, and you grinned around Ominis’ cock as Sebastian’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as you began pressing and stroking him through his trousers. 

With Ominis in the way and the added difficulty of the angle, you didn’t think you were doing much to help Sebastian with his predicament. But from his perspective your eagerness to please, coupled with the rushed manner you palmed at his cock through his trousers, was more than enough to make his head spin with arousal. His hips jerked against Ominis’ backside, causing the slender man to jolt forward, and the force of Sebastian’s thrust in turn pushed Ominis further down your throat. 

“Mmph–” your eyes squeezed shut, a few tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes at the intrusion, but by some miracle you didn’t choke. Instead you relaxed your throat more so you could accommodate as much of Ominis as possible, and when your nose nearly nestled against the collection of sparse hair below his navel, you heard a long string of profanities fall from the blonde man’s soft lips. 

“Fuck, she’s taking you so well, Ominis– she’s drooling all over your cock, it looks fucking incredible–”

Sebastian was rutting shamelessly against Ominis, taking full advantage of your hand and the smooth expanse of his friend’s ass to chase his own pleasure. It was quite possibly the raunchiest thing you’d ever seen; both of your companions desperately crumbling above you as you worked to please them in any way you could. Your jaw started to ache around Ominis’ cock and you slowed your pace slightly, but not before your clever tongue was quickly picking up its movements to compensate. 

At the same time you hollowed your cheeks and swallowed around Ominis, his fingers tightened painfully in your hair as his hips bucked against your chin. “Fuck, wait, p-pull– pull back–” 

You would do no such thing. 

Your hands abandoned Sebastian’s cock to grip the backs of Ominis’ thighs again, holding him firm against your parted lips as your tongue cunningly flattened along the underside of his shaft before curling along the base. The filthy, wet sounds coming from your mouth intermingled with Ominis’ shaky breaths in the air around him, and Sebastian dropped one of his arms to shamelessly stuff his hand down his pants to pick up where you had left off. It was an awkward position to get off in, but Merlin– he was desperate for some reprieve. 

Sebastian tugged Ominis closer to him, boldly rutting against the other man’s body while his fist furiously assaulted the pre-cum soaked head, keening moans spilling from his freckled lips as he brought himself closer to his release. Ominis shook against Sebastian as you hummed around his cock, the vibrations finally sending him clean over the edge with a hoarse, drawn out cry of your name, and he was frantically holding you to him as he shot thick ropes of cum down your throat. 

It was almost greedy, the way you drank down everything he gave you. Ominis was boneless in Sebastian’s arms as you continued to work your tongue over him, milking him dry before you were pulling off his softening cock with a sinful lick of your lips. The sight of your glazed over eyes combined with Ominis’ trembling weight pressed against him was more than enough, and Sebastian dug his teeth into the alabaster skin of his friend’s shoulder as he came all over his hand

“Fuck,” Ominis rasped as he felt Sebastian buck against him, looking like the epitome of a wet dream. 

His usually neat hair was beyond mused, falling into his sweat-slick face as his head hung between his shoulders. Sebastian’s arm moved with the rapid rise and fall of Ominis’ chest, and the sight of your boyfriend shaking with pleasure while wrapped around Ominis’ lithe form had you tilting your head to the side to gauge his condition. 

Safe to say, Sebastian looked seconds away from dropping to the ground with Ominis in his ironclad grip. The poor man was barely holding it together– his face was flushed, bottom lip red and swollen from him incessantly working it between his teeth, and although Ominis concealed the majority of his lower half, you knew Sebastian had to be riding out the prolonged high of his own orgasm– all from watching you suck off his best friend from over his shoulder. He caught you staring a second later, narrowing his eyes when he spied the smug look on your face. “Find something funny down there?” 

Your hands were lazily stroking Ominis’ bare thighs, pulling a contented sigh from the blonde as you grinned diabolically at Sebastian. “Just enjoying the view. You look… pleased.”

“That’s a word for it,” Sebastian mused, gingerly lowering himself and Ominis to the ground, and once the safety of the stone floor was beneath his knees, his arms slid away from the slender man. Ominis sagged limply against Sebastian with an airy groan, his chest still heaving as he willed his brain to start functioning again. “Damn, I think you killed him, darling.” 

You couldn’t help but smirk, feeling mighty proud of yourself, all things considered. Your voice was still a little rough as you asked, “You alright, Ominis?” 

He slurred the first half of his sentence, but the second bit sounded a little like, “–fuckin superb,” which earned a laugh from both you and Sebastian. Then, Ominis was fidgeting slightly, effectively grinding his ass against Sebastian’s sensitive length still pressed against him, and the brunette hissed through clenched teeth. 

“I already made a mess of these trousers, Gaunt. Proceed with caution.”

It was a real treat getting to watch Ominis’ fucked out expression sober up instantaneously following Sebastian’s statement. His blue eyes widened comically, and his hips slowly twitched back to feel the blatant wet patch between the brunette’s legs. 

“D-Damn– that’s– I’m sorry,” Ominis fumbled for words as he attempted to sit forward, but Sebastian was having none of it, and quickly wound his strong arms across Ominis’ waist to keep him in place. 

Sebastian pressed a hot, tender kiss to Ominis’ pulse, stilling the blonde’s attempts at escaping as you closed the space between you and the boys. You cupped your hands under the sharp curve of Ominis’ jaw to angle his parted lips to yours, and before he could register what was happening, you were there, banishing any lingering tension from his body with your lips. It was soft and delicate, yet demanding and urgent, all at once. Ominis sighed against your mouth and let his slender fingers come to wind in your hair once again, tugging you against him quickly, and he felt Sebastian reach around his shoulder to put his hands on you as well. 

“Don’t apologize,” you murmured in between heated kisses before pulling away entirely to stare down at him. “It’s a pleasure having you with us, Ominis… we should do this again.” 

Sebastian shot you a look of agreement over Ominis’ love-bitten shoulder, and his eyes darkened as he groaned softly from beneath you. “Can ‘again’ be right now?” 

Your brows shot up into your hairline, “Are you even capable of that right now?” 

Ominis roused further from his post-coital state at Sebastian’s suggestion and pushed himself upright. “Do you not want to?” 

“Merlin’s beard, of course I want to. Trust me– I have a few ideas on the subject, believe it or not. I’m just making sure he isn’t spouting false promises–” 

“False promises?”  Sebastian chimed in indignantly from behind Ominis, and the glint that reflected in his eyes was one that guaranteed trouble. “I can promise you this, darling. You haven’t come yet, and after all that hard work, I’m sure Ominis would be thrilled to assist me in getting you off. Wouldn’t you, Ominis?” 

“As long as you’ll have me,” he murmured, voice husky. “I’d love nothing more than to return the favor– you won’t end up waiting a week for it, either.” 

A laugh burst from you at the same time Ominis was tugging you back towards his lips, delving his tongue into your mouth to taste more of you, and Sebastian made a keening sound deep in his throat. 

“Seriously Ominis, say something next time. To think we could have done this last weekend if you’d just spoken up.” 

Any retorts he could have mustered fell away at the feeling of Sebastian’s hands trailing up his shirt, and when you deepened your kiss with him, Ominis decided that if this was standard practice for being honest, he would make more of an effort to voice exactly what he was thinking in the future. 

After all, his fantasies couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing. With a brief adjustment period, and maybe a few butterbeers, Ominis was certain he could get used to this sort of treatment.

[seikkoi]

ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ | ᴛᴏɴʏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

18+ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

content/warnings: named reader, explicit sexual content (very end), alcohol consumption, mentions of financial issues, employer/employee relations, explicit mentions of mental health issues (reader has the anxieties™), mentions of physical injuries, set in canon universe before aou.

genre: mostly angst ngl, sm*t at the very very end

word count: 7,463 im sorry

a/n: lightly inspired by the song 'october' by rothstein

dedicated to: the lovely @alessandraavengers

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business."  Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable.  “My business is your job."

I won't complain,

I will be decent, 

though it will be freezing,

I welcome the rain.

The hands of the clock on the wall ticked silently, a sign of the building’s expense. You clutched a leather binder filled with papers in your lap as you sat. Everything you had to show for the last seven years of your life. Countless awards, certificates, recommendations—the expensive bachelor's and the bank account-draining master’s. Your leg bounced on the dark mahogany, steadily increasing frequency as seconds turned into minutes.

Ironically, this would also be interview number seven. For the job you were least qualified for. You applied for close to twenty at this point, all well below your skill, but you were desperate. You had barely a year of experience—quitting your first job one year out of school after one-too-many sixty hour work weeks. The moment you turned in your resignation, dread and regret over your choice in profession filled you. It held you down, sleeping and rotting the days away. Eventually, reality set in, pulled you out of bed and back into the corporate world. 

Turns out, lack of experience and ‘quitting with notice’ is less than ideal.

You hoped a step down in prestige would result in less stress. All your fantasies of a top floor corner office and luxury disappeared like ash under a light rain. You always held expensive tastes that you couldn’t sustain unemployed.  But the stress wasn’t worth it. All you needed now was to pay the bills. Too quickly ‘over-qualified’ or ‘under-experienced’ became your least favorite words. You had to fight back the dread every time you checked your email. 

Just when you’d started pondering entry-level positions, a notification came through for a new vacancy ‘Fit for your skillset!’. To your dismay, the description sounded no different than the job you left. More grueling expectations and personal sacrifice. On top of that, you still were under-experienced by their requirements. Not to mention who it was for. Overworked employees typically miss most current events, but far too much has been going on with this company to make even you pay attention. Working for such a high-profile, drama-ridden company might be even worse.  But after weeks and not so much as an offer letter, you had to try anything. On the plus side, at least it paid well.

Three days later, you found yourself inside of Stark Tower, wishing the silent clock would move faster.

Square breathes, internal mantras—nothing worked. Your heels still made a gentle clack against the floor. Thankfully, the general noise of the front lobby kept it from being a nuisance. 

What you swear is eons later, your ears prick up to a similar click growing near you. You turn your head as a tall blonde approaches the small waiting area. She stops at the front desk a moment, making your heart skip a beat when the receptionist points to you. 

‘Just relax, you know what to say.’ you thought to yourself. ‘They won’t hire you if you’re a nervous wreck.’

You manage to muster what little confidence you had left after weeks of rejection to stand and straighten your dress as she greets you. Thankfully, the smile she extends is friendly enough. The hand you feel is soft and manicured too— acute tells of an easy life.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ms. Potts, I’ll be bringing you up to meet Mr. Stark.” she says, turning and heading further into the lobby.

‘Maybe this won’t be too hard. Maybe this job won’t be like the last.’

-

During the entire elevator ride to Mr. Stark’s office, Ms. Potts spews out factoids about Stark Industries but you’re too busy rethinking your entire interview strategy. Something about a cave, Obadiah Stane and a wormhole whizzes through your ear to no reaction. It was nothing you hadn’t already read in the weekly papers, nor did it ease you one bit. 

You were even more taken aback when you realize you’re descending, and the silver doors open to a spacious garage. The faint sound of movement echoes, source unseen. You turn to Miss Potts, who only gives another pleasant smile and gestures into the concrete space.

Sure, the whole world knew Tony Stark was a bit eccentric. You knew that well enough when you applied. Hell, it probably explained the vacancy. Maybe this was some type of strategy, or just his nature. Either way, something was screaming at you to tell Miss Potts you had changed your mind, go home and apply for anything else. 

Then, you remembered how badly you wanted success. You couldn’t accept anything less.

The elevator closed quietly behind you as you exited, looking for the source of the noise. There’s cars (some ridiculously new and some pathetically old), studded workbenches, and chaotic piles of robotics and machinery strewn about. You have to round the corner to find him, behind a small bar tucked away from the metal mess everywhere else. 

He’s turned away from you, seated at the bar with eyes glued on a few papers before him. An ornate pen signs away without pause. You’re certain the sound of your heels against the floor gave you away, but you’re sure to clear your throat to not shock him. 

Mr. Stark, clad in a grease-stained white tee and dark denim, shifts in the barstool slightly to give you a cursory look. You can tell immediately his mind is lightyears away from the present situation, focused elsewhere. On a lighter note, you notice how much kinder he looks in person. All the magazines and op-eds made his face harsh, never smiling. 

“You’re the one who applied for assistant thingy right? Miss…” Stark trails off, scanning back through the papers in front of him. There’s a slight slur in his speech, one that forces you to remember the early hour.

“Cassian.” you interrupt his search and he laughs, abandoning the papers for a shiny glass on the counter.

He brings the amber liquid to his lips before he speaks again. 

“Right, Cassian, look—” The glass finds its way back to the solid surface despite his sway. He stands once it does, facing you with a wide smile. “You’re hired!” 

With that, you’re left more dumbfounded, staring at the billionaire as he sauntered over to one of the cluttered workbenches. 

“I’m sorry, sir, I really don’t understand—” You turn towards him as he walks by, not sparing you another glance.

When he reaches the middle of the garage, he lets out an exhausted sigh. The familiar regret seeps in, turning your nerves up another notch.

“The woman that probably brought you here—Pepper, she used to be my assistant, and handle all the tabloid bullsuit.” he mutters, fiddling with a wrench from the bench. 

“After the whole ‘tower nearly blowing up’ situation, she’s taken a step uh-out of my life. For better or worse. I didn’t wanna hire anyone else, she’s convinced I can’t manage my own life— we compromised.”

You start to speak, trying to formulate the right words to say. Stark pays it no mind, tossing the wrench back down gently.

He pivots towards you, and you see the stress in his eyes. You can see why she’d quit-hell you were starting to wish you never applied. The name ‘Stark’ proliferated in the papers these days.

“Offer letter is signed, on the bar, job’s there if you want it.” With that, he walks across the garage, past you into the elevator. 

The electronic ding! sounds, leaving you in the garage alone without another word. You’re convinced this is a terrible idea- even before whatever that just was.

Something sparks your curiosity to look at the signed papers, and put a dollar amount to this madness. You walk back to the bar, grabbing the stack of papers with a faint ring of water in the corner.

You’re certain you’re dreaming when you count the number of zeros. 

THREE WEEKS LATER

You were ready for retirement at the ripe age of twenty-six.

This was a new type of demand. Running nearly every aspect of Tony Stark’s life didn’t eat your soul, but it ate at your mind. You could spin embezzlement or drunk-driving into a heartwarming story- alien attacks and Hydra were a whole new ballpark. 

It was almost refreshing. Spinning stories for shitty people and tailoring public statements for the goal of maximum human exploitation never quite sat right with you. Handling Stark’s life just felt like defending someone who deserved it. It felt more honorable working for him than a greedy tech firm.  (There are some questionable times when he doesn’t, but you don’t bother with those).

The righteousness helped the uncharted territory be more than manageable. Still, making Stark’s technology enterprise mesh well with his role as Iron Man felt like a hero’s feat on its own. The media would come up with any number of wild conspiracies about Iron Man, most of them disparaging to his image. 

Stark was legitimately aiming for good things in the world. The weariness in your bones kept you craving more simplicity and ease, nonetheless.

You sunk down into the leather couch of the conference room, watching as the board members filed out in quick order. The room was filled with the golden ray of sunset— soon to turn pitch black. 

Officially done with the day’s meetings, you forgo any workplace formalities and kick off your heels, despite your boss’s presence. 

A light chuckle at your exhaustion breaks the silence, Stark slumping into the empty space beside you. You raise an eyebrow when he wriggles at the lavish tie around his neck, tossing the garment to the floor next to your heels. 

“What, you can kick back but I can’t?” he jests, undoing the top two buttons of his black dress shirt. 

You give a ‘fair enough’ shrug, leaning back to start mentally processing the last ten hours.

You found yourself staring at his exposed neck as your mind trailed off, his head leaned back, eyes shut. His jaw is tight, forehead pinch in a now-familiar focus. Stark looked nearly as drained as you, still you knew better than to try and equate things. Honestly, you considered yourself semi-lucky to only have to make things look nice for the cameras and not be present for them. In the evening glow, though, he looks close to ethereal.

You shift your eyes at the thought.

You two sit in comfortable silence as the sun moves behind the New York city skyline. 

You’re doing mental math on how soon you can retire when he fills the void with a question.

“Regret taking the job?” he asks, unmoving. 

You add ‘potential mind reader’  to his list of skills. 

“Some parts are better than others.” It’s as honest of an answer you can give without sounding ungrateful for the opportunity (or thinking about the alluring glow on his skin).

He laughs again, turning to meet your eyes. This would mark the first time you’re under a heat lamp from his gaze, irises tired and alluring. 

“Seriously,” 

Clearly your answer isn’t convincing, because he turns to his side on the couch to fully face you. 

“You aren’t regretting this? Because lately you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” he says with a lazy grin.

You thought you were doing a good job of burying your issues beneath walls of smiles. Hearing otherwise hurts your resolve a bit, especially from Stark. He had enough on his plate without worrying about you.

“It’s just…a lot,” 

Despite how you felt, you couldn’t lie about it, not to his face. 

“But it’s not your fault, it’s not you.” you swiftly add upon seeing his somber grin fade away.

“Ha, isn’t it though?” A dramatic sigh escapes his mouth like a deflated balloon, running his hands through messy brown locks. “This..rollercoaster I’ve put myself on.” 

“Rollercoasters can be fun.” 

“You hate it.” Stark faces you once more, propping his arm up on the back of the couch. 

“Wouldn’t blame you if you quit.”

The suggestion pulls a laugh of your own. “I don’t think that’s an option.”

Stark makes a genuinely puzzled face, to which you spend the next minute or two explaining why you quit your first job, the weeks you spent rotting away after. You had hoped to never recount such a sad time outloud, but you couldn’t stand him feeling at fault for your lack of enthusiasm. 

Ease passes through you when it seems to comfort him a bit.

“Maybe I hire you for something else, maybe pay you to not deal with this shit.” he says, laughing.

You brush off his joke with another short laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something? Really, it’s fine. Just need a long hot shower.”

You start to stand, but are stopped when a hand graces your thigh. 

“No jokes, I know what it’s like to get more than you signed up for. If money’s all that’s keeping you here, trust me that’s not an issue.”

You give a flustered smile, trying not to focus on how warm his hand was. 

“It’s not all that’s keeping me here.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

“You know it’s just a dinner, right? Like just food, maybe music, high probability of dessert?” Stark taunts, noticing your trembling leg from behind his phone screen.

The car seems like it’s moving way too fast, even though you can very clearly see the speedometer under 25 miles per hour. 

“Yes, I know what dinner is.” 

You let out a deep sigh, trying to regain the ground under your feet. The part Stark conveniently forgets is that it is a very large gala he’s dragged you along to, and not just a normal dinner. You can do normal dinner, not a one hundred plus person dinner with reporters and red carpet. He’s also not considering the part where he didn’t tell you about it until two hours ago.

“Oh, that’s a relief, thought you might jump out the window.” he pockets his phone, turning to you. “I can just have Happy take you home, you know.”

“No, no, this is…excitement. I’m excited. Totally ready.” you’re really trying to convince yourself, but it only makes Tony snicker.

“These things are really boring, promise. That’s why you’re here, keep me from falling asleep.” 

Out the window, the street lights start to turn back into normal orbs instead of blurry splotches. The car pulls up the curb with enough ease for you to take in the venue. It's a marble hall, one you feel suddenly underdressed for. You make a mental note to tell Stark never to give you this little notice again. Perhaps you should save yourself the trouble and head home. 

Stark could behave himself, right? 

The black window tinting your view disappears when the door is pulled open. You hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t beside you anymore, now holding the door and gesturing to the entrance. You get your first good look at the suit he’s wearing, tailored and jet-black. The flattering seams are a decent enough distraction to join him on the sidewalk. 

Stark places both hands on either of your shoulders, giving you a playful shake. 

“You look amazing, I look amazing, please stop worrying. It’s starting to spread and I can’t eat on an upset stomach.” he forces himself into your gaze, searching your face for the supposed ‘excitement’.

A deep breath, then a second passes through you, staring at Stark's eyes until you can manage a curt nod and still legs.

“See, you’re gonna be just fine.” he exclaims, dropping the hands from your shoulders and already smiling for the line of photographers waiting by the door. 

You follow unsteadily, praying this is a speedy event. You could do this for an hour, maybe two. Stark takes notice of your delay, turning back to you just before reaching the first nerdy cameraman.

“Hey, what’s the issue with this? If your not comfortable with the cameras, you know we can just go around—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupt, gripping your clutch with sweaty palms. 

“Then what?” he asks sympathetically.

“There’s like a hundred people in there, Stark.” you admit with a long sigh.

“And I’m one of them, what’s the worst that can happen if you're with me?” He turns and props his arm out towards you. “Miss Cassian?” he says, dragging out your name.

You want to roll your eyes at his constant unserious nature, but instead you take another deep breath, loop your arm through his, letting your fingers wrap around the satiny fabric on his bicep before taking slow steps forward.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Bright bulbs of light flickering in blinding succession. In every direction, microphones with human mouthpieces spew their hurried questions. Your boss answers in his typical Stark way, earning only more adoration and curiosity. You come to humor yourself with the questions they ask. Always seemingly random, from his favorite brand of whiskey to his opinion on migrant detainment in the Mediterranean. 

You stand to the right as he smiles and poses for them. You almost hate how good he looks in the cold wind, face most definitely beaming behind designer snow-white frames. Outside of that, you admire his patience, knowing this winter vacation (where he didn’t have to be Iron Man for once) was leaked and now semi-ruined.

It would’ve been a well needed break for you as well. Three months of non-stop press releases, conferences, and meetings were wearing you ragged. Late nights were occupied with drafting memos and wishing you chose a career with less work. While you hated the time work took away, you unfortunately began to admire the work you did. Working for Stark turned out to be more desirable than you thought. You imagined dealing with another frustrating, reckless CEO- not a charming, witty superhero. Regardless of the long hours and chaos, you loved helping put more good into the world. 

Finally, as snow starts to fall, he answers a final question on if he’ll change the color of his suit before turning to enter the cabin.

“Mr. Stark— Iron Man, won’t be taking any more questions, excuse me, thank you.” 

You tried to squeeze past incessant reporters and fans, barely making it through the hotel front door if it weren’t for security. The commotion outdoors gets muffled by the tall wooden doors. You sigh and lean against them, shutting your eyes for a moment.

“Feeling alright, Cassie?” 

Stark’s voice makes you open your eyes to see him standing in the foyer. This would be the fourth time you feel his eyes burning through your skin. You expected him not to be upstairs in bed, asleep already, not in front of you, eyeing you with his hands buried in his pockets. 

The place he chose spared little expense, clearly for starlets like Stark looking for a lush, woodsy escape. Wooden walls covered every inch, adorned with fancy art and a modern fireplace in the living room.  The color reminds you of the tower lobby, a deep mahogany. 

“Yeah, just remind me why I’m here and not at home in my heated apartment.” You keep your voice light as you hang your coat on the rack by the door. 

Stark gives a playful scoff, too used to your sarcasm to take offense. 

“A certain former assistant thinks I need a babysitter on my own vacation.” He turns on his heels, heading towards the kitchen with a renewed energy (surely only now remembering he’s supposed to be relaxing). 

“She’s not wrong.” you agree only because Stark re-emerges from the kitchen with a tall amber colored bottle and two glasses. 

You can’t help rolling your eyes at his stiffened jazz hands, tossing yourself onto the plush armchair by the fireplace. The cold seemed to wrap itself around you, not leaving despite your proximity to the fire. Stark chose to sit on the side table next to you, rather than the wide array of more comfortable seating options. You’d gotten used to him entering your personal space since your talk in the conference room. You took it as a sign of his narcissism more than anything.

“Not sure I’m meant to be a drunk babysitter, Mr. Stark, ” you quip as he starts pouring.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he winks, offering you one. “And come on with the ‘mister’—making me feel old over here.”

It’s bothersome how little he has to say to change your mood. Something about being with just him, away from press, deadlines or state secrets, pulled you in and kept you coming to work everyday. In this moment, however, his solitary presence made you anxious. You’d have to get through this sabbatical without the chaos of the world bringing you back to reality. The real world, littered with expectations.

Free of any reason to decline, you take the glass. You and Tony do a lazy toast, clicking the glasses together before taking a sip. The peaceful quiet envelopes the cabin, save for the crackle of the fireplace. 

“You okay?” you ask upon seeing the weariness in his face, contrasting the grin he held.

“Better than okay,” he finishes the rest of his drink, pouring another faster than you take a second sip. “Happy to be away from everything, ‘get in touch with the great outdoors!’ as they say.” 

You laugh at the dramatic mocking tone he uses, extending your arm out when he makes a gesture at your empty glass. 

“I hope your atleast being slightly genuine, Mr. Stark.” you say once the glass is full once more.

“When am I ever not, Miss Cassian.” he draws on your name with the same mocking pitch as before.

You fake a wince at the taste of your own medicine, which amuses the hell of the already tipsy Stark. 

“I see what you mean, felt fifteen years added on instantly with that,” you admit, chuckling at his demeanor. 

“Hence why I’m such a nice guy and call you Cassie like a normal person,” he states smugly, taking another sip from his glass.

“Oh really, Tony? ‘Cause you only gave me that nickname after I explicitly told you no one ever calls me that.” you laugh.

“Yes and that was a great loss to the universe that I fixed,” Tony turns his head to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling (you tell yourself it’s just the alcohol and nothing else).

The both of you stay there silent, eyes locked for what quickly becomes far too long and the awkwardness makes your attention back to your drink. You finish the contents, hoping that the liquid would cool your now burning skin. 

You internally remind yourself that this is just how he is- a playboy philanthropist turned charming hero, nothing else. 

“Sorry, I know this isn’t really much of a vacation for you. ‘Know you wanna be at home, away from Stark Industries,” he deflates a bit, pouring a third drink.

“No, it’s not like that,” you interject, speaking softly, “I really don’t mind being here, and it’s still a good break from meetings and all that other tedious shit.” 

He takes a sip, seemingly mulling over your words. “Give any more thought to my offer?”

You let out a small laugh, thrown off by his sudden mention of it. You were certain then that he wasn’t being anything near serious. 

“What, you paying me to not be here? I didn’t think that was you being serious.”

“It’s a win-win, no? You get a salary, I don’t have to drag you along for this rollercoaster, Pepper doesn’t worry, everyone’s happy.” 

Clearly you’re left silent for too long, because Tony stands before he speaks again. He seems conflicted, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Look, I don’t need to see you miserable, I guess.”

“What, who said I was miserable?”

“Anyone would be dealing with me.” 

TWO DAYS LATER

After a few days, an air of melancholy had hung over you. Two days of nothing turned into endless overthinking about your life. Every decision made seemed to rattle in your bones, looking for a place to be. You tried to tell yourself it was normal to feel lost, to feel as though everything you’ve ever done was pointless. This was the first time you’d had room to think, of course everything would be overwhelming.

That didn’t help, but whatever red wine Tony brought did. 

You found it on night two, cracking open the second bottle when Tony comes downstairs. You gave a sluggish hey that gave away your state immediately, but you were too absorbed in your thoughts to meet his eyes. 

“Didn’t take you for a wine connoisseur.” he mutters, sitting in the chair across from you. 

You don’t bother with a response. In fact, you wished that he’d go away. Seeing Tony lately just reminded you more of the life you were sure you wouldn’t have. You were certain you made all the wrong choices, took all the wrong paths.

“Cassian?” he leans forward, forcing his face into your point of view. “Kinda' freaking me out here.”

“You ever think about what your life would be like if you weren’t,” you trail off for a moment, slurring slightly. “I don’t know—you?”

He laughs and it feels infectious, closing your eyes to hopefully shut up the twist in your stomach.

“Me, specifically? Who knows? Maybe I’d be a pilot, or own a hotdog stand.” he goes silent at your lack of reaction to his joke, resting his chin against his hands.

“Why, thinking about faking your death and adopting a new identity?”

The red liquid in your glass coats your dry throat. You’d love to start over. Go back and see what the other paths held. Then, the deep pit of your stomach turns, remembering how different and worthwhile working for Stark made you feel.

“What if I did everything wrong?” you ask quietly.

If you did, a small part of the anxiety in your gut assures you that it was worth it to find your way to him.

“Define ‘wrong’.”

“Not what I imagined, I guess”

To help someone who wanted to do so much to help the world.

“Well, what do you want from life?”

You go silent again. “I don’t know.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

With nothing to prove you,

and if I should lose you

—It won't be in vain.

On the last day at the cabin, you feel a genuine sense of sadness at the thought of leaving. 

Fourteen days with no reminder of the outside world had you the most relaxed in years. Bliss was all you felt waking up each morning to no phone calls, no emergencies, and no meetings. You forgot what it was like to just exist, to not have your thoughts bogged down by deadlines. You had even forgotten the benefits of good company. The demanding nature of your job meant little social life, and you didn’t realize until nearly two days in that you had been craving it. What surprised you more was that you received that good company in the form of your boss. Tony seemed to go out of his way to fill any voids of silence with quips and self-deprecating jokes to make you laugh. Clearly to spare himself the awkwardness of your dissatisfaction. 

Nothing changed about personality, but removing the dark shadow of responsibility made him visibly less wound up. It must have done the same for you, because you spent most of these last two weeks laughing (or catching up on well-needed sleep). You tried to avoid him lately, not wanting to add fuel to the fire you could feel growing for him. Opting for weeks of solitude with him was possibly not the wisest route.

Retroactively, if you had all this sudden free time at home alone, you probably would’ve gone a little crazy. 

You must be wearing your solace on your face, because that night, during dinner, Stark asks if something is wrong.

“Is it a bad thing if I don't want to go back to New York?” you chuckle at your own absurdity, scraping the last bits of food into the trash.

“Is it worse if I agree?” he smiles, looking up from his own plate. 

“Not excited to go back to being an Avenger?” you ask honestly, sitting back down at the kitchen table, next to him.

“Ha, excited’s the wrong word.” he sits back in his chair, letting out a sigh. “You’re not jumping to get back out there either.”

You give an agreeing nod, resting your head in your hands when you start mentally going through all the tasks waiting for you tomorrow. 

“You don’t have to go back like I do. You can get away from all this.”

When you look up, Tony’s eyes are glued to the floor. 

“You know, you can just fire me if it’s that much of a bother to you.” you say sharply. 

Truthfully, it was starting to come off as a subtle hint to leave rather than concern. It muddied whatever imaginary connection you maybe thought you’d fostered over these last few weeks. All the little touches and extra concern bounced around in the back of your head like a live grenade. You didn’t know how much of it was aimed towards you, or just his charismatic nature. Maybe there was never any charisma, and he was the same as any other CEO.

“Cassie, that’s the last thing I want.” he says, like he’s offended, and you want to laugh at the audacity.

“Could’ve fooled me.” you retort, standing to exit the kitchen.

Tony intercepts you at the doorway, however, clearly scrambling for words to ease the newly-created tension. All it really does is annoy you more, seeing those brown eyes pleading silently. Either way, you can’t get past. 

“I—This is too much for anyone to handle. I can barely handle it and that’s because you do so much behind-the-scenes for me. A lot of people have reached their wits end with me and I don’t want that with you.”

It sounds painful for him to say, and despite his soft tone, it’s the most serious you’ve ever heard him be.

“I think you’re worried a bit too—”

“I’d rather not be the reason you spend weeks in bed, okay?” 

Frozen in the doorway, your anger still boils. It felt like the thing you were most ashamed about being thrown in your face. You want to go back to that conference room and never tell him a thing. It’d save you the confusion, save you from all the mixed signals. He couldn’t mean it. You remember the way he reluctantly submitted to Pepper and hired you. Tony didn’t care, he never wanted you here in the first place. You felt stupid for thinking anything else.

"Maybe you should worry about yourself, Stark. I've been doing just fine before you decided to make my job your business." 

Tony's jaw clenches, and a shaky hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. 

“My business is your job, can’t you see I’m trying to be supportive?” 

You almost start to regret your words, but you can’t stand the way he looks at you like some fragile thing. 

For the fifth time, you're hot under his gaze, but it does nothing besides flare your anger more.

“I don’t need your support, stop acting like you have any idea what’s best for me.” you snap, taking a step closer.

To your surprise, Tony closes the remaining distance, and you have to look up to maintain your glare. Tony's expression shifts from concern to frustration, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Clearly, you don’t even know what’s best for you. Forgive me for giving a damn.” he scoffs.

You roll your eyes, deciding to just put an end to this conversation. In his frustration, Tony left a wide enough gap for you to try and snake through. Your heated exit must’ve been obvious, because he steps back to keep you in front of him.

“Seriously?” your fists clench at your sides, heat spreading up your arms to your cheeks. 

“Why are you still here?” he softens a bit, but not entirely folding his arms over his chest.

It’s not enough though— your irritation is unchanging even under his tender gaze.  It was easier to stay angry and pretend like he wasn’t the only thing keeping you. To not admit that you didn’t want to abandon him.

“Why’d you bring me here?” you retort through gritted teeth, motioning at the logged walls around you.

“Damn it, I thought it’d help, Cassie!”

The severity of his words leaves you speechless. You never heard him really raise his voice, let alone come close to yelling.

“But, clearly, I shouldn’t have bothered.” Tony moves from the doorway, taking fast steps past you towards the main door before you can say anything.

In an effort to keep him from storming out, you reach out for his arm as he brushes by. Instantly, he pulls away as if you're made of open flames. You try to show the hurt on your face, but now that your anger has started to dissipate, you notice a similar transformation in Tony. To your benefit, though, it keeps his feet firmly planted. 

“I’m not some broken person you need to protect.” you admit, avoiding the potential anger still in his eyes. 

“Wow, really? Didn’t know.” 

Always with the jokes and sarcasm. You lift your head to Tony’s expectant gaze, causing you to sigh heavily.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he states dryly, leaning back against the kitchen table. “Why are you still here?”

“You keep assuming I hate my life.” 

It’s his turn to roll his eyes, rather dramatically in your opinion. 

“Could’ve fooled me.” he responds, mocking your words from earlier. “You avoid me like the plague lately, and I don’t know how you expect me to just see you unhappy and say nothing”

“That has nothing to do with work-”

“Then what is it?” 

There’s something else in his eyes, something like the sparkle you saw all those months ago. 

You look at him with pleading eyes of your own. A sense of entrapment overwhelms you, stuck with the choice between potentially ruining everything or, well, still potentially ruining everything. You wish he really could just read your mind and understand. Understand that you didn’t want to leave him, that you were avoiding him to protect your own, admittedly fragile, heart. 

"Can't you just accept that I don't want to leave?" you manage, your voice barely louder than a pin drop.

Your heart flutters as he steps closer, though it shouldn't surprise you; he's never been one to respect personal space, and an argument wouldn't change that.

"No, I need to hear you say it," his tone is low, almost taunting, and his unyielding gaze sends another wave of fluttering through you.

"I don't want to leave you."

In the next second, Tony's lips crash against yours, pinning your back to the wall with a heavy thud. You don’t notice, the world fading with the taste of vanilla on your tongue and the scratch of his beard on your chin. Your thoughts become a blur as Tony's teeth graze your lips, and his hands squeeze your waist, pulling you closer, the arc reactor pressing into your skin. 

When the kiss ends, you're both left panting, yet he still clings to you, gripping your waist like he’s scared you’re going to run away. 

“I told you- the last thing I want is for you to leave.” he says sternly, voice still low. You can’t see his face, buried in the crook of your neck, but the heavy breath on your skin makes you lightheaded.

“Tony-”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s wrong to think I know what’s best for you. I just want you to be happy.” 

“I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I care about you too much for that, Cassie.”

“I’m your assistant, Tony.”

Tony gently cups a hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his, his thumb caressing your cheek. He studies your face intently, searching for any signs that he should stop while he's ahead. You stopped counting how often he leaves you a mess with his eyes, and try your best not to stare at his swollen lips.

“Then tell me you don’t feel the same.” he whispers.

A beat of silence passes, the fire crackling in the next room uninterrupted. 

“I…can’t.” you answer hesitantly.

The confession hangs heavy in the cabin’s stagnant air. Your mind racing a thousand miles per hour, waiting for the dream to end. 

“What are you so afraid of?”

“Doing this wrong, ruining everything.” Your eyes squeeze shut from embarrassment.

Tony laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said, before kissing you again. It’s soft and slower than before, calloused hands still cupping your face.

“I think you’re the one who worries too much. When has anything bad happened to you when you’re with me?” Tony suggests, grinning, his eyes filled with warmth. 

You want to mention an office party a few months ago, where a drunk attendee threw up on your shoes, but you let him make his point. 

“Let me do the worrying for a bit, sound good?”

THREE WEEKS LATER

You felt like you traded seasons getting back to New York at the start of spring. You hadn’t gone home, instead staying in the tower at Tony’s request. You didn’t mind it at all, being surrounded with more comfort than you could ask for. 

Tony made it his personal mission to keep you away from all things work related, despite how many times you told him you enjoyed helping him. One small problem being that he left for a mission a few days ago, and you haven’t got the faintest clue where he was or when he was returning. The first day, you relished in a bit of solitude, reading books that sat on your shelf the last two years untouched or catching up with friends that you lost touch with. To your relief, most understood your reason for disconnecting, and the books were captivating. Now, however, it was day three, and you were starting to do the one thing he asked you not to— worry.

Just as the rain starts to splatter the tall windows of his penthouse, you’re considering reaching out to Fury or Hill to make sure he’s at least still breathing. The only thing that stops you is the ding! of the elevator, turning your nerves back down to zero.

When you meet him at the door, a wide smile breaks out on his face—surprised you’re still there.

“How was it?” you ask, as Tony drops his bag and moves towards you. You feel slightly awkward in this new territory with him, shifting your weight anxiously.

“We’re getting closer to the scepter. Hydra’s pulling out all the stops these days.” 

As Tony steps into the light, a deep freshly-stitched cut under his right eye comes into view. Before you can say anything about the cut, you notice the large bandage on his arm, and a matching bruise crawling up his shoulder.

“What the hell happened?” 

Tony slowly peels off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch behind you. “Oh, this? This is nothing, you should see the other guy.” he says with a flashy grin.

You’re busy scanning for more injuries, eyes raking for more bandages and stitches. Tony doesn’t let you continue for long though, taking your hands in his.

“What’d I tell you about worrying?” he teases, stroking your hair and planting a quick kiss on your lips.

You give an annoyed sigh, wishing he didn’t irritate and charm you in the same breath so much.

“I think it’s natural to worry when you’re bleeding.” you gruff, letting Tony pull you into a tight embrace. 

“Then I’m not doing my job, am I?” You don’t protest when his hands roam over your body, placing light kisses against your neck. “Let me take your mind off things.”

The light kisses on your neck turn into heavy bites, leaving marks along your collarbones. He creates his own path along your skin, sighing softly as his mouth finds every inch of skin your pajamas didn’t cover. You’re a panting mess as he trails down your body, twisting a hand into his messy locks. 

When he kneels before you, you feel unsteady on your feet. You wish you could say you two had gone this far already, but Tony considered himself a self-proclaimed gentleman and insisted you wait. It seems three days away from you was enough for the chivalry to fly out of the window. 

He stops for a moment, fingers hooked in your shorts, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the inside of your trembling thigh.

“Cassian?”

“Mhm?” You mumble, shutting your eyes. Nerves and anticipation mix terribly in your stomach, making you unable to process the desire on his face. You feel the fabric of your shorts slide down your legs with your panties. The cool air doesn’t help you any, rendering your skin sensitive and Tony’s hand feel like a furnace. 

“Relax, doll.”

You suck in a breath as his lips wrap around your clit, body stilling— the hand in his hair tightening. Weeks of Tony’s insistent waiting had you thinking your first time with him would be slower- you were ill-prepared for the way he runs through your folds with absolute filth. He moans into you, keeping a tight hold on your thighs to hold you close. 

He’s quick—grazing teeth against your clit as his tongue laps at your entrance— just to drag the tip of his tongue against your length and return your clit to start the cycle all over again. You feel the wetness coating the inside of your thighs, saturing his scratchy stubble on your skin. 

You bring your free hand to the back of the couch as he continues, sighing into your core and sending shockwaves up your spine. You try to maintain some type of balance, legs growing shaky again in pleasure rather than anxiety for a change. 

“Tony, god, that’s-” You’re cut off by your own moan when you feel Tony insert a finger into your soaking cunt, rocking slowly as his mouth finds its way back to your clit.

He pulls away a moment, letting his thumb keep the pressure against your sensitive bud. Your head tilts back, nails digging into the leather behind you. Out of your view, Tony wears a smug grin, pleased to see you taking his directive to heart. The middle of the living room might not have been his first choice, but it’s well worth it. Besides the fact you taste like heaven, it’s worth hearing every sound escape your lips.

Getting caught up in that, however, caused him to loosen the grip on your thighs. When his fingers curve inside you, your hips jerk against him. The calloused fingers tighten on your legs, to your slight dismay.

“Easy, doll, I got you.” he mumbles, returning his focus to eliciting more intoxicating moans from you.

Tony renders you a complete mess sooner than you’d like to admit, gasping above him as the warmth in your core grows overwhelming. If you told yourself a year ago that your boss would have you panting and begging, you wouldn’t believe it. Regardless of belief, his tongue pulls plea after plea from you. Your stomach feels painfully coiled- mind absorbed with the wet, filthy sound of Tony’s mouth on your cunt.

With another curve of his finger, you sent over the edge—crying out Tony’s name like a prayer and abandoning the hand tangled in his hair to hold yourself up. Tony lets you ride out your orgasm against his fingers, kissing the damp skin between your legs and muttering soft praises. 

It’s not until you sense him standing again in front of you that you open your eyes. You immediately want to take it back when you see the shit-eating grin covering his shiny face. The sight sends a new wave of desire through you, staring at his mouth with your lips parted, panting softly. Did he have to look so good constantly?

“As cute as you are when you’re worried, I think I prefer this look on you.”

[spider-mancan]

Starker fuck or die

This is insane. The entire day has been one dumpster fire after another. Peter fell asleep on top of a building still in costume with his textbook spread open on his lap to the sound of a phone call. The resulting jolt of unfortunate awareness nearly sent his school books down onto the pavement — instead they just have a stain from the webbing and an extremely damaged spine. Peter answered the phone but was more interested in mourning his rental deposit than whatever threat was causing the Avengers to assemble. 

Then he heard the words Sex Demon come out of Captain America’s mouth and it was all downhill from there. Forlorn, Peter agreed to set his studying aside and come help out, because, really, when was he going to have another opportunity to sit in a room while Steve Rogers tried to talk about a Sex Demon in the debrief? 

It wasn’t nearly as fun as Peter expected. They’d called him in because he was difficult to hit and had the benefit of both long- and short-range fighting, but some of the others weren’t so lucky. By the time he arrived, Black Widow had already been removed by Hawkeye, leaving Second Hawkeye looking very purple (“nice new uniform, Kate!”) and incredibly perplexed. Steve was mostly alright, but whatever was causing problems was not reacting well to the serum.

Causing problems, of course, meant making people extremely Down to Fuck extremely quickly. 

“This is hilarious,” Peter says, swinging around the rafters. The warehouse they’re in has already been trashed, light leaking in through the roof and scaffolding collapsed in heaps on the concrete floor. “There is so much porn about this. At least two. Not that I know for sure.”

Tony comes over the comm. “I did hear Sex Pollen Sluts Go Nuts got excellent reviews.”

No one thinks this is funny at all, but Peter is too busy twisting out of harm’s way to feel bad about laughing. 

It’s not a Sex Demon, which Peter finds incredibly disappointing. It’s just a man who believes in the power of the aphrodisiac, or something, and developed yadda yadda whatever he’s trying to get blackmail of the world’s most influential people blah blah super awkward and gross and his sex blaster doesn’t even look cool at all. 

None of this is the particularly insane part.

The insane part happens about two seconds after Tony manages to topple Mr. Sex Demon over the railing and onto the ground, where the pressurized canisters on his back give way to the unforgiving asphalt and explode into a green haze so dense Peter can barely see the brilliant blue glow of the arc reactor in Tony’s chest.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter yells into the comm, without a response, and he’s swinging over to assess the damage when Captain barks orders for him to stay out of the way.

The Iron Man suit is already vacuuming up the fumes to remove the contaminant from the air, but Tony hadn’t been wearing one of his space safe suits which means there’s no internal oxygen supply, which means he’s also been contaminated. Regardless, the two men come into view and Tony just waves. “FRIDAY gives the all clear.” His voice sounds strained.

Peter drops down just behind. “Mr. Stark!”

“Spider-Man,” Steve calls, jogging over. “It’s best not to get to close—”

Peter is about to ask what Steve could possibly mean when he feels heavy hands grip his shoulders. The Iron Man gauntlets are heavy — in the armor Tony weighs nearly 400 pounds — and Peter winces. “Mr. Stark?” 

He isn’t afraid — Natasha hadn’t been dangerous. She’d stood stock still for a moment, called for assistance, and immediately removed herself. Over the phone, Captain America had run through the symptoms of the spores, but Peter can’t remember all of that now. He vaguely remembers a loss of inhibition, some kind of animalistic behavior, and an increase in body temperature to dangerous levels over time.

“Tony,” Steve says warningly. 

Iron Man’s faceplate lifts up and Tony is sweating, gritting his teeth. “I know, Cap.” His hands tighten, shaking, enough that Peter grabs one and flexes his fingers, debating whether to pry it off. “I’m trying.” Deep breath.

“Get away from the kid, Tony.” Steve pulls out his firearm and Peter is about to laugh, it’s insane, Tony would never hurt him. Touching Peter isn’t something Tony isn’t allowed to do. But when Peter goes to laugh Tony still looks so serious, so stony, almost sick. Deranged, even. Just a little.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter frowns and Tony’s eyes flutter closed, tight.

“Don’t call me that, right now, kid.”

Kate hops down from her perch in the rafters, awkwardly adjusting the quiver on her back. “I’m just gonna, uh, go.” She gestures over her shoulder to the door, which Tony blasted off the hinges not half an hour ago. “I’ll find a broom or something. Or just leave.”

Steve nods, mouth tight. His gaze doesn’t leave Tony where he’s hunched over Peter like a bad shadow, but his finger stays still on the trigger. Waiting. Not moving one way or the other.

Peter knows how these sorts of things go; if something can go wrong, it will. He runs through the data he can grapes through the confusion, tapping into Tony’s suit. Tony had been exposed to nearly twenty times the recommended dosage. Peter pulls his vitals through Karen and tries not to balk at Tony’s heart rate or internal temperature. Hot. Tony could fry an egg on his chest soon. “We need to get you out of the suit.” Peter reaches for one of the latches.

“Leave it,” Tony grunts. He’s bitten his lip so hard there’s blood in the corner of his mouth. “Better.” His hands haven’t moved, like he can’t move them, like he’s a statue. Peter is going anywhere without forcing himself free. “Better for you.”

“For me?” Peter demands. His hands are already on the gauntlet, but he freezes, struck silly by the sheer nerve. Tony is overloading and he thinks he should stay in the suit for Peter’s sake?

“I’m calling Fury.” Steve brings one hand up to his ear, gun still level. His eyes don’t leave Tony the entire time, even when he backs away slightly and starts to argue on the private channel.

Peter’s fingers tap a nervous rhythm on Tony’s armor. “Karen says you’re spiking really fast, sir,” he says at a whisper. This isn’t good for Tony’s heart, still weak, or his nervous system, which has been run ragged.

“I’m fine,” Tony chokes out through clenched teeth. His skin looks terribly gray, haggard, even. “I am really reliving some of my old glory days right now, but I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah. Drugs.” Peter laughs nervously. Tony’s eyes are blown, the warm brown consumed by darkness, and his gaze is heavy on Peter. The gauntlet moves now, pulling up the hem of Peter’s mask until Peter feels metal against his pulse point. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony groans.

Peter is a good kid, but he’s not a saint. He’s seen the Tony Stark sex tapes, even the ones that Tony didn’t know were being recorded. He’d been through his own moral beratement when he opened it the first time, but he’d done it several times since because they’re something about Tony that Peter can’t get enough of. And Peter has heard that groan a million times. It’s not like his enemy just punched me into a wall groan, or his this meeting could have been an email groan. It’s the groan he makes when he opens someone up with his cock for the first time. The eyes rolling back, hips stuttering kind of groan.

Peter is suddenly very hard in his jock strap. Terrible. Terrible news.

Karen is a welcome distraction in the form of more terrible news. “Mr. Stark!” The vitals displaying on Peter’s HUD are approaching dangerous levels, especially for an older, unenhanced human. “Your heart rate. It’s crazy!” 

Tony is sweating, mouth open in the face of the rising temperatures, and Peter starts to frantically start prying at the mechanisms that hold the armor together. Tony makes no move to assist. “Leave it.”

“You’re in a metal can and you’re already over 100F,” Peter tells him, as if Tony didn’t know. “You’re going to—”

He doesn’t hear Steve barking at him to stop. It doesn't strike him that it’s a bad idea until it’s too late.

Peter manages to get his nails under the ridge of the chest plate and release it, pulling back, and then suddenly he’s falling. Tony has miraculously changed his mind about the suit and decided to abandon it entirely, stepping out and using the momentum of Peter’s scrambling until they both fall prone on the ground. There’s a poof of dust as they clatter onto the warehouse floor, tangled together.

Steve looks over at them sharply and is yelling orders Peter can’t quite hear because he is too busy trying to place the way Tony is smothering him with his body. Even through Peter’s suit he feels the heat radiating off of Tony’s skin, so sweaty he’s almost slick. He smells like hard work and expensive cologne. Peter is bewildered, and he puts his hands on Tony’s chest to push him away only to freeze when he feels Tony pull up mask and lick a thick line from his collar to his ear. 

“Mr. Stark, I don’t—” Tony gets a hand between them, pushing the release on Peter’s suit until it’s loose around his body and Peter turns his head to look at Steve. “Captain, I didn’t think it was supposed to be, ah, oh.” He shudders when Tony sucks Peter’s ear into his mouth. “Mr. Stark, please. We need to get you to medical.”

“No time,” Tony mumbles against Peter’s throat. He’s cupping Peter’s groin through the suit while the other hand pulls the mask off completely. “Want you bad. God, I can’t even think. Look at you.”

“Tony.” Steve takes the safety off, conversation over the communicator set aside, and gets closer. He doesn’t want to shoot. That much is obvious — if he was going to, he would have already done it. “I said get off the kid.”

“He’s mine, Capsicle,” Tony growls. He winds his hands around Peter’s back until their chest to chest, and Peter feel the rabbiting heartbeat until it’s hard to separate whose is whose. “Get your own!” There’s the tell-tale fire up of the propulser on Tony’s palm, and then there’s a stare down between Iron Man and Captain America with a shivering Spider-Man sandwiched between.

Steve looks away first.

Peter feels a bit wild, wide-eyed, confused. Flushed and hot and not attractive at all, but Tony is near-tearing the suit off of his body and Peter is so shocked he’s barely fighting it. Cold air hits his sweaty skin where Tony is pulling it down at the neck and it feels like an electric shock. “Mr. Stark, seriously. You need to—oh.” There’s a rough hand on his cock. “Oh, my god.”

Tony has both hands on Peter again, like he’s going to reach into Peter’s chest and start pulling him apart, but the Iron Man suit is in sentry mode now; Peter hears the thunk of the boots on the ground even as he’s writhing, trying to focus past the sound of his own insane breathing. He blinks and then there is red and gold staring down the barrel of Steve’s gun.

“Need you, kid,” Tony growls in his ear, pulling down the length of him through his underwear. This was not on Peter’s bingo card for the day. “Feel like I’ll die without you.”

Maybe you will, Peter thinks hysterically.

Steve could stop this, but the gun is slowly falling lower until it’s pointed at the concrete. “Peter,” he starts, “if you give me the word, I’ll remove him and take him to quarantine until we find a willing partner.”

“Partner?” The puzzle pieces are falling into place but there has to be another picture because the one in Peter’s head isn’t making any sense. “I thought this just made you horny!”

“It sure does,” Tony mutters. He doesn’t spare Peter’s underthings nearly the same respect as the suit, but he tears Peter’s t-shirt off at the neck and spreads it open like a child opening a Christmas present. Hands splay flat over sweaty skin, feeling Peter’s rapid breathing. “I’m going to ruin you, kid.” Like he can’t hear a single thing.

“I’m not—oh, god.” Tony is heavy on top of him and his cock is hard in his sweats, thick where it’s digging into Peter’s hip. Tony readjusts and grinds them together, hard enough that Peter scrambles for purchase against Tony’s back. “Cap, I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

Tony rakes his nails down Peter’s bare chest, catching on Peter’s nipples with a satisfied smirk.

“What do you want to do?” Steve asks slowly.

Tony has such a high fever and his heart rate is dangerous and he looks at Peter and says, “you want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?” and Peter is so fucked. He’s both literally and figuratively fucked.

Like a flash of lightning, Peter remembers the call earlier: if Tony doesn’t come inside someone, he’ll overheat until he’s either cooked inside or dies from a heart attack. It had sounded kind of funny at the time, only half-paying attention.

Despite having a god among men standing not twenty feet away — oh, god, Captain America can totally see Peter’s boner right now — Tony doesn’t look away from Peter for a single moment if he can help it. Years of the revolving door love interests have made Tony extremely good with his hands. He’s often joked about it, about how good he is in bed, but Peter never actually thought he’d feel the way Tony smoothes hands over skin or bites bruises cherry red and it’s just a whole lot more than Peter expected to happen.

“I—I…oh, god.” Tony licks a line from Peter’s navel up to his chest and latches on to one of Peter’s nipples with his teeth. “I’m, I’m willing. I just—”

“Are you sure?” Steve says firmly, like Peter might be able to think straight with Tony all over him like every unfortunate wet dream he’s had since the seventh grade.

“If you don’t leave right now,” Tony says with a growl, “you’re going to get quite the show, Cap.” His eyes look clouded over, and he sits back heavy on Peter’s cock and just looks at the mess he’s made. Peter’s suit is hanging haphazardly around his hips and his shirt is ruined and his skin is bright pink. The cold wind through the holes in the walls brushes past, too cool on the spit-slick on Peter’s chest and he shudders.

“I’m okay,” Peter chants, and he lets himself reach out and touch for the first time. It’s tentative, fingertips across the scarring on Tony’s chest. “Like, what the fuck, but also I’ll be okay.”

If anyone understands that, it’s Steve, who is flushed almost as red as Peter and pivots. “I’ll guard the perimeter.”

With a grin, Tony rolls his hips so fluidly Peter whines high in his throat. “Kind of wanted to put on a show.” His cock is so hard, rutting into the dips of Peter’s stomach. “Bet he’ll watch. He just doesn’t want to admit how good you look. My perfect boy.” He grabs both sides of Peter’s head, fingers tangling in his hair so hard Peter can’t look anywhere but straight ahead.

Peter presses his hands flat. “Mr. Stark, I…” He closes his eyes tight. “What do I do? This is crazy.” Not last week Tony had been helping Peter with relationship advice, how to get a girl’s attention, clapped him on the shoulder and called him champ like he was going to take Peter to the baseball game later. “You’re…” 

The first time Tony kisses him, Peter’s brain doesn’t care about the drugged nature of it. It’s everything he wants, everything he thought it would be in his wildest dreams. It’s possessive, almost bruising, like Tony is boiling over and he’s going to fill Peter up with it. Teeth nips at Peter’s bottom lip until he makes the smallest sound, a little desperate. What? That’s Mr. Stark’s tongue in his mouth.

Tony’s hands slip down under the waistband of Peter’s until he touches hair and Peter writhes, knees clanking together, trying to hide himself even though Tony groans again like he’s found nirvana. His nails rake up the sensitive skin near Peter’s groin. “So soft and beautiful.” Tony bites into the meat of Peter’s shoulder, hips still rutting in a sinful rhythm. “Knew you would be.”

“Are you sure about—ah, about this, Mr, Stark?” Peter tries. His tongue is so thick in his mouth. He can hardly process anything. Beyond Tony is the dingy gray walls of the warehouse, the open space, anyone could walk in and they’d see Tony pinning Peter down with his body. Tony has never looked at him this way; not that Peter hasn’t tried. “You’re…you’re going to hate me later.” He covers his face with his hands, feels the heat on his cheeks.

When he turned seventeen he’d pushed his luck. He touched more, took more. Kissed Tony on the cheek goodbye until he was daring enough to slip, catch just the corner of Tony’s mouth. Peter remembers it, it’s was Monday, rainy, because he’ll never forget the way Tony had looked at him after. Terrified. Disgusted, even. Of Peter. Of Peter kissing him.

Right now, Tony needs more than a sidestep kiss and pat on the shoulder. He needs a hole, something to fuck into, something to take apart piece by piece, and he’s already let Peter know he wasn’t interested in that with him. Peter’s brain is spinning, the reality of the situation started to seep in through the cracks of his shock, and he wonders if he’s being an opportunist by taking Tony’s wandering hands in stride. 

“Oh, darling.” Tony leans in and presses a wet kiss to Peter’s shoulder. “I could never hate you.”

The sound of the zipper fills up the whole room. The space is public, with the open floor and windows and sun streaming down, but it’s quiet, save the police sirens outside. Tens of people, probably, just a flimsy wall away while Tony Stark gets his cock out with a groan. 

It’s thick, uncut, slightly to the left, and nestled in a thick and well-groomed swath of dark hair. Peter knew all that from the videos, the tapes he keeps on his phone for the lonely nights, but that’s just an old image of Tony. Right now, Tony is on his knees above Peter and he grins, circling his cock with his fingers so Peter can watch it twitch. He’s still a bit gray, he looks sick, and his hair is slick against his neck. Peter has always liked that, when it curls there, but Peter can’t look away from the curls around Tony’s cock right now because he’s just a man and his mouth is watering.

“You’re going to be the best thing I’ve ever felt,” Tony says through that wicked grin, eyes dazed — mind far away, probably, since the fight has left him. He leans over, lets his cock drag over Peter’s stomach. Peter feels pre-come in a smooth line and it makes him whimper. “I’ve fucked royalty, the most powerful people in the world, the most beautiful, but I know you’re going to feel the best.”

He kisses Peter then, when Peter opens his mouth and moans at the idea. He brings one thick hand up to Peter’s neck and just holds him, all threat but no pressure, and opens up Peter’s kisses with the flat of his tongue until Peter is weak and loose on the floor. Those fingers pull his mouth down, slip in and feel his tongue slide under the fingertips, and Tony doesn’t have to tell Peter to suck because this has happened in Peter’s head at least twenty five times.

Tony tastes like metal and lotion and salt. He presses on Peter’s tongue until Peter drools around his fingers, grinding his cock into Peter’s hip and rolling his thigh up between Peter’s legs. “Knew you’d melt for me, sugar in the rain, just like that.” 

Peter thinks his eyes might roll back in his head. Is he the one that got caught in the sex pollen nightmare? He feels giddy, almost drunk, and he lets more drool come out of his mouth and slick up Tony’s fingers. He knows where they’re going.

Tony is less single-minded than Peter would have thought, because he’s slow to pull his fingers away and he’s slow to lift up Peter’s leg and he spends an awed moment just looking, which borders on being too much. Peter can feel his ass clench when Tony runs a thumb over the pucker, and his legs tighten around Tony’s hips.

“Just, uh…” Peter wipes his mouth and hides his face in his elbow. “You can start, just…whatever you need.”

Tony presses in gently with the pad of his thumb at the same time he tugs Peter’s arm away from his face, just in time to see Peter’s expression slip into something feral. “Need to see you.” Tony bites into the meat of Peter’s shoulder and laves at it with his tongue. His goatee scrapes across Peter’s skin so good, and Peter curls up until his arms are curling over Tony’s head, hovering, unsure whether to bring him closer or pull him away. “My good boy.”

“Mr. Stark.” Peter presses Tony into his shoulders, another bite, and Tony slips a spit-slick finger inside quick and easy. “Oh, god, I didn’t think—I never thought—”

That’s a lie. Peter thought about it a lot, the way Tony might work him open. Tony’s fingers curl smoothly against Peter’s walls, one to two and then three, a little dry but Peter doesn’t mind when it hurts a little because sometimes soft and sweet feels dull. Sometimes he wants someone to rip him open and make him cry and if Tony is going to do it right now, under threat of death—

“Think about you all the time,” Tony croons heavily against Peter’s skin. He pulls away, purposeful, and Peter blinks. He wonders hysterically if the fog melted away, no more sex magic or whatever it is that’s making Tony want to destroy him, but Tony just draws closer until he can slap his cock around Peter’s swollen mouth. “Get me wet. I’ll make you stop thinking for good.”

Peter groans, an open invitation. This is insane. He shouldn’t enjoy this because Mr. Stark is drugged into wanting him and it’s a huge breach of trust and privacy but Peter scrambled up onto his elbows so Tony can feed him his dick, thick and perfect. He grabs Tony’s hip so hard he thinks there might be bruises but Tony fucks a little harder into his mouth, smooth.

There isn’t a lot of time for sex in his line of work, he’s busy, he’s pining over a man who doesn’t want him, not for real, but Peter isn’t too good to get on his knees in the back of a club and swallow someone down. He knows what he’s doing, throat opening up until the head of Tony’s cock hits the back of his throat. He hums. He loves this. He loves sucking people off, makes his head floaty and easy, and he’s got his eyes closed just to revel in it. He lets drool pool in his mouth again, knows it’s going to make his life easier. 

Tony’s thumb wipes a tear off Peter’s cheek, and it’s only then that Peter opens his eyes and finds his lashes damp, stuck together, watery. “There’s my boy.” It’s so fond. “Don’t cry. You’re doing so well.”

Peter’s hips fuck up into the air and he pulls off, suckling at the head before letting it rest gently on his bottom lip. “I’m good. I’m good, Mr. Stark.” He feels Tony twitch against his mouth. It’s incredible. 

It’s nothing compared to Tony rolling him over on his side, the obscene way Tony hikes up one of Peter’s legs and spits in Peter’s hole and feeds Peter the head of his cock so fast it burns a little, the way Peter kind of likes but won’t admit. It hurts and then his body knows it like this and everything evens out and Tony growls when he thrusts fully into Peter. His skin slaps hard against Peter’s hips, rocking Peter with a surprised cry further across the dusty ground. Tony just smoothes his hand over Peter’s hip, under the knee, and rocks into him. He bites feral at Peter’s neck and shoulders like he’s here to take and claim, like he’s going to want to see the shape of himself on Peter later.

“Oh, Mr. Stark, I’m, ah, oh, please.” Tony brushes up against his prostate and Peter jolts forward, bracing himself with his free hand on the ground to stop from being fucked flat into the floor. “Oh, please. It’s good. It’s good, it’s good.”

Peter isn’t sure Tony can hear anything anymore, but he takes his hand off Peter’s knee and wraps it around Peter’s throat, pulling him back so their bodies are flush and rocking hard and tight into Peter’s body. It’s hard to remember this is just drugs, this is just another day on the job getting fucked by the unrequited love of his life, when Tony watching the way Peter’s eyes roll back so closely. When Tony kisses Peter he tastes like blood but feels like gold, wrapping Peter up tighter. Peter couldn’t leave if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. He’ll never want to.

“You take me so good, kid,” Tony says against Peter’s jaw, kisses wetly at the skin there. “Thought about this, about opening you up in the lab.”

“Ngh.” Peter is beyond speech, just like Tony promised, but his hand flies back to dig nails into Tony’s hip. His cock aches, dribbling precome onto the dirty floor and the tangle of his ruined clothes. 

“It’s bend you over and slip inside and you’d just—fucking—let me.” He thrusts hard into Peter’s hole, punctuation, and the sound Peter makes is ungodly. “Thought about it when you glued yourself to the wall, just ripping your clothes off—mmm.” A slow roll Peter can feel in his toes. “Find you already open and dripping because I know you fuck yourself sometimes before you come in. FRIDAY can tell.”

Tony isn’t squeezing his throat but Peter can’t breathe.

There are a million and one first hand accounts of Tony Stark’s stroke, but Peter doesn’t think any of them compare to the real thing. On the ground, in the warehouse, while Captain America tries to stop New York’s Finest from throwing open the door and seeing Peter pinned here in the dirt, spread open—

“That’s it,” Tony whispers, gravel. He scratches down Peter’s chest and wraps his hand around Peter’s cock. “You’re so good. Go on. Make a mess. Daddy will clean it up for you.”

It’s deep in Peter’s stomach, rolls up until it burns in his chest and chokes him. His hips cant back, trying to take more of Tony, more more more of something that isn’t here, out here in the open. Everyone knows they’re doing this right now. Fuck. Tony’s suit is still there; FRIDAY is recording all of this, the way Peter shudders and writhes and comes and comes and comes all over Tony’s fist. 

He falls flat on his stomach, Tony’s hand still pumping lightly until Peter is pushing back against Tony’s thrusts just trying to get away from the sensitivity. 

“That’s it, that’s it.” Kisses all over his neck, his throat, his cheeks. “Let me take care of you. Almost there, so good. So perfect.”

There’s no condom. That’s the last thought Peter has, as Tony comes thick and hot in Peter’s ass and grunts, bites one more time. No condom. Very messy. It’s fine, probably, since Tony said he’d clean it up. 

The adrenalin drop hits, empty, and Peter fades away into something deeper than sleep with his cheek pressed into the cold ground and Tony pulling out of his body, wet and sloppy.

[darksilvania]

The 5 Lakes of the Underworld fakemons

**Be warned, this is a very long post**

After the main story is finished and you have become the regional Kroel champion you will have access to new missions and sidequests, most coming from Neo-Kroel main research center. One of this special missions requires you to investigate the underground lakes of Kroel, 5 lakes deep under the earth that have conditions were life shouldnt exist, yet each one has a unique species of pokemon living in them.

The 5 lakes are at the bottom level of different caves you would have came across during your travel, but before becoming a champion you should not be able to enter their lowest level. everytime you try going in there a warning saying "its too dangerous to go down" stopping you. Once you accept the mission, the researchers will give you a special suit that allows you to go down, as well as one for your pokemon, similar to the suit your receive in Omega Ruby/Alpha Saphire when fighting the legendaries.

This 5 lakes are based on the 5 lakes of the underworld in greek mythology

The first lake is one where the water has turn to acid, due to a high concentration of iron altering the waters pH, the acid releases toxic fumes that fill up the caves air and some of it has leaked into the floor above. This cave represents the Rive Styx from the greek underworld. The pokemon inhabiting this lake is based on a Hagfish (Myxini glutinosa) and it's a Water/Poison type, its body is covered in a very toxic mucus that protect it from the harmful acid, but can be very harmful for other pokemons.

The second lake is one where the presence of a very rare form ol fungi has given the water psychotropic properties, the air in this cave alone can cause very strong hallucinations and the water can do sever damage to the brain, causing even memory loss. This lake represents the River Lethe from the greek underworld.  The pokemon inhabitting this lake is based on the Glass Octopus (Vitreledonella richardi) and it's a Water/Psychic type. This pokemon has managed to survive thanks to the large size of its brain, who not only is not damaged by the water but has used it to increase its extrasenssorial abilities.

The third lake is one where the water has become Anoxic, this means water has lost its oxygen, and fish shouldnt be able to breathe in it. The whole enviroment of the cave has a very thin air, which makes harder to breath even outside water. This lake representes the river Acheron from the Greek underworld. The pokemon inhabiting this lake is based on the Spookfish, also known as long nosed chimera (Rhinochimaera pacifica), and it's Water/Ghost type. This pokemon is actually the ghost of the original pokemon who occupied the lake before the water turned anoxic, unable to adapt quickly enough they all died, and their souls possesed their old skins

The fouth lake is one where water has become Supercooled, which means it has reached temperatures below the freezing point without actually freezing. The cave in general is too cold, with ice in every surface. This lake represents the river Cocytus from the greek underworld. The pokemon inhabiting this lake is based on the Terrible Claw Lobster (Dinochelus ausubeli), and it's a Water/Ice type. It uses its chainsaw like pincer to cut through the ice, with its body covered in a hard, protective armor. Despite its looks it feeds on a special type of moss that grows beneath the ice.

And the fifth lake is one where the water has become Superheated, which means water that has reached temperatures above the boiling point without actually boiling. The heat in this cave is extreme, with all surfaces reaching temperatures above 100° C. This lake represents the river Phlegeton from the greek underworld. The pokemon inhabiting this lake is based in the Black Dragonfish (Idiacanthus atlanticus), and it's a Dragon/Fire type, the only one of this pokemon that is not a water type. Its hard scales protect him from the scalding water, and it can create flames that can burn even underwater.

I still need to think in their abilities and names and all that, but hope this works as an interesting read

[p5x-theories]

Queen in P5X

(last updated 8/3/24!)

Makoto Niijima is primarily present as a Phantom Idol, or cognitive teammate. She has not yet made any appearance in the main story, outside of her lines during the Sae Palace escape intro cutscene.

In the P5 Collab's Bank chapter, Queen is first seen refusing to explore the bank with just herself and Closer, fearing it's too high a risk when they're not sure where their teammates are. When the rest of both groups (minus Joker) meet up with them, she quickly impresses everyone with how much she was able to figure out just from what Closer told her about how these places work, to the point that Cattle attempts to recruit her to his team (to everyone else's shock). She turns him down, but the two teams continue to work together to explore the bank and search for Joker.

Queen primarily acts as a voice of reason/substitute leader in the absence of Joker, and does a lot of the reasoning to figure out what their next move should be as they explore.

Makoto can also be found in Leblanc in the real world, which Wonder is for some reason capable of crossing worlds to visit. She won’t appear until Wonder has met her in the Bank Chapter, but seems to have been looking forward to meeting him when they are eventually at Leblanc at the same time, though she starts out by mentioning everyone else looks forward to chatting with him. She talks about the things she's gotten used to since becoming a Phantom Thief- including the pairing of coffee and curry for a meal, which seemed strange to her at first, but now she can't imagine one without the other- as well as academics, suggesting she and Wonder study together sometime, and can even be found working on the crossword puzzles.

Queen's Persona Johanna is categorized as a Nuclear type, and resists Nuclear while being weak to Psychokinesis.

Johanna is a Resist Persona, meaning she’s good at targeting single enemies, and her trait gives her a level of "Tenacity" after using a skill to attack an enemy. If she has five levels of Tenacity at the start of her turn, she can enter the "Iron-Blooded Will" state, at the player's discretion (originally this was automatic, but it became manual after complaints when she was first added). Her first nuclear attack skill deals five hits to random enemies, prioritizing those that haven't been hit yet (doing less damage with each subsequent hit to the same enemy, and doing more damage if the enemy has an elemental status effect) and afflicting one enemy with radiation; her heal skill heals one ally based on Queen's attack stat, then buffs Queen's attack and gives her at least two levels of Tenacity (potentially more based on the elemental status effects enemies are afflicted with); her second nuclear attack skill hits one enemy, dealing extra damage if they have an elemental status effect, and gives Queen two layers of Tenacity (If Queen is in the Iron-Blooded Will state, this attack instead does even more damage, and extra damage for each elemental status affliction the target has, counting up to three status effects). Her passive skills increase her attack based on the number of elemental status effects on the field, and cause her to take slightly less damage at the start of combat, which is further reduced every time she enters the Iron-Blooded Will state.

As in P5, her melee weapon is fists/gauntlets, while her ranged weapon is a revolver. Her Highlight is shown from 0:44-0:55 in this video, and it starts by giving her two "Heat Quality"; one Heat Quality causes one elemental status effect on the target, and Heat Quality will be consumed in this way until the target has two elemental status effects. After, any remaining Heat Quality is used to increase the damage of a single-target nuclear attack.

Her recommended card sets are 1) 6 of Swords (Science) + Page of Cups (Awareness), 2) 4 of Coins (Power) + Page of Coins (Growth).

The game recommends teaming her up with 1) Vino, 2) Leon.

[gozine-translate]

Terminally-ill Genius Dark Knight - 156

156: The Third Main Episode [1]

[Retrieving information about the player-bound artifact, 'Dragon Heart'.]

[Basic Info]

Name: Dragon Heart Type: Special Equipment (Bound) Grade: High Attributes: - Stats: All stats +1 Equip Requirements: [Genius of Mana Sensitivity] and Mana, Willpower stat of 10 or more.

Special Effects:

Increases the grade of magic auto-correction by 1.

Greatly improves proficiency with magic that uses Dfragon Language and significantly reduces magic calculation time.

------------------------------------

Shocking effects. The effects were so overwhelming that I nearly lost myself, but I managed to hold myself. Even though I'm lying in a hospital bed, if I didn’t feel proud of the rapid increase in my stats, I'd have to look back if I have qualification as a gamer.

I don’t know for sure, but if I looked in the mirror, my grin would probably be stretching to the ear.

But right now, that's not important.

"Let's take a look slowly"

The most straightforward displayed part is the stats.

All stats, excluding luck and charm, have increased by 1. You can say this is shocking.

Naturally, not all high-grade artifacts boast this kind of performance. Sometimes there are high-grade artifacts comparable to highest-grade artifacts, and it's safe to say that the [Dragon Heart] belongs in that category.

'A permanent increase in stats is something you can immediately feel, especially when it comes to physical strength and the replenishment of frequently used mana. Willpower is no different.'

Physical strength will contribute to swordsmanship, while magic will have a direct influence on both swordsmanship and magic. This will be a solid foundation for my future growth.

Since I’m already checking, I decided to review all my stats and the status screen.

With my thoughts organized, the status screen appeared in midair.

[Basic Info] Name: Nox von Reinhaver Gender: Male Age: 15 Race: Human Primary Element: Darkness Achievements: None

[Traits] Positive: [Genius of Swordsmanship and Combat] / [Genius of Mana Sensitivity] / [Insight] / [Master of Memorization] / [Iron Mentality] / [Genius of Acting] Neutral: [Manifestation of Darkness] Negative: [Terminal Illness] / [Prone to Minor Illnesses] / [Cold Limbs] / [Possession]

[Stats] Physical strength: 9.1 (+2) Mana: 14.3 (+2) Luck: 10 Willpower: 14.8 (+1) Charm: 27.1

[Skills] Active Skills: [Genius Time+] / [Advanced Dark Family Swordsmanship] / [Southern Swordsmanship] / [Ignition] / [Basic Arkheim Empire Swordsmanship] / [Material Transformation] / [Dark Spear] / [Limit Break] / [Mana Conversion] / [Basic Moonlight Sword] / [Light’s Step]

*Due to the [Terminal Illness] trait, the player’s remaining lifespan is 91 days.

------------------------------------

Seeing my steadily growing stats stirs up some emotions. Though my physical strength hasn’t surpassed 10 yet, the other stats are at a satisfying level. I can say that I’ve never grown this quickly in any previous playthrough.

"Especially mana and willpower are at absurd levels… Over 14 ? I’ve had to use my strength a lot recently, so my lifespan has shortened, but that’s inevitable… High risk, high reward. That's the Nox von Reinhaver I'm developing"

Anyway. Looking at my stats, which before I realize are getting closer to 15, my heart can’t help but race. One of the key turning points in base stats is when each stat reaches 15. Every time a stat hits increments of 5, the character experiences a period of rapid growth, and I’m just about to hit that. I look forward to my future growth.

"huu… Not bad."

Sure enough, acquiring good artifacts always brings joy to a gamer.

I shifted my gaze to the next screen. This time, it was the enhanced skill.

'Next is the improvement in magic proficiency using Dragon Language and the permanent rank-up in [Magic Auto-Correction].'

This is another absurd boost as well. I’ll have a chance to explain the improvement in magic proficiency with Dragon Language later, but even just the fact that I can properly learn Dragon Magic, I can say it's already perfect. However, there was an unexpected gain elsewhere.

"[Magic Auto-Correction] permanently ranked up by 1 grade… This is a special effect I’ve never seen in the game."

It’s a trait that turned out to be a good variable. I quickly called out the traits window.

[Displaying detailed info on the passive skill 'Magic Auto-Correction']

------------------------------------

[Passive Skill] Name: Magic Auto-Correction Grade: High Attribute: None Effect: Automatically boosts the power and effectiveness of all magic-related skills up to advanced level.

------------------------------------

Ranked up by 1 grade, the automatic adjustment, which only applied to intermediate and lower skills before, also works on advanced skills now. This fact is a very big deal.

Previously, it was more beneficial to use multiple intermediate skills, but now the efficiency of using advanced magic has greatly improved. In the long term, there will definitely be moments where intermediate magic alone won’t be enough to overcome the situation. When that happens, this skill will be a huge help.

"The main episode is coming soon too…"

Chapter 3. The main episode, where the future of the Merchants Faction will be decided, we have to win them to our side. I don’t know if it will go according to my plan, but just like always, thinking it over while organizing my mind will make the situation better, even if it’s just a little.

'I’m so screwed.'

In the end, the conclusion always circles back to this. Still, as expected. I think.

Well, I’ve got to figure it out somehow. What else can I do?

If I’ve got the Dragon Heart?

Then the next step is to master the Dragon’s Breathing Technique. The first step is opening the three pathways and raising my realm.

Astrid was standing in the academy’s secret training hall, staring straight at me.

Her usual lazy expression, but when it comes to magic, her ruthlessness is carved more clearly in my mind than ever.

Astrid looked at my body and said,

"You’re not dead, huh?" "Fortunately, yes."

I shrugged and calmly said. Astrid didn’t even take a glance at me and immediately prepared for the next step. Completely changing my breathing from the root.

"You know about the three magic organs, right? The pathways for circulating magic."

"Yes, I know."

"Spin them all at once. Try circulating them simultaneously."

"…Right now? I only just got the Dragon Heart yesterday. There’s no way I can do something like that this quickly."

I was so taken aback that I asked again. Even in the game, they didn’t throw the breathing technique lessons at you the very next day. Why do things never go the way I imagined…?

"Can’t do it? Then I won’t teach you."

At Astrid’s words, I quickly corrected myself.

"…I’ll do it. In return, please show me a demonstration, and I’ll follow along."

Learning comes first, no matter what. Astrid is more reckless than I expected, but I didn’t have a choice. I told her I’d do it, and asked her to show me how. No matter how you look at it, does it make sense to master a training method that's just a script, all by yourself?

Step, step.

Astrid von Kaliud dragged her feet and approached me as if it was tiresome. Then she extended her hand to me while slightly tilting her head. Next, she waved her hand once.

"What are you doing? Not gonna take it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted a demonstration, right? This is the fastest way."

Still half dubious, I took Astrid’s hand. Then, suddenly, she pulled me into her chest and hugged me. I felt her warm, unique scent, mixed with the scent of baked madeleines. Maybe it was her fire attribute? I even found it comforting.

'I wondered if dragons smell like reptiles, but it seems not'

As I satisfy one of my curiosity, I focused on what she was doing.

A few minutes passed.

I quietly traced the flow of magic I could feel moving from her.

As I thought, she had a plan all along.

'Astrid pulled me close for this. The best way to feel magic circulation is through physical contact after all.'

Astrid’s method was right. The reason she told me to take off my shirt earlier, you can say it was for this as well. As expected from a dragon, her circulation technique was very unique.

'Basically, most dull or average mages can only circulate magic up to the upper dantian in the head. Next is the middle dantian, located in the heart area, which can only be controlled by mid-level mages or more'

Where’s the last one?

Naturally, it’s the lower dantian. Located about two fingers below the belly button.

When this opens, the door to the mental world will be open. This world is different depending on the individuality of knight or mage. If I follow her lessons properly, I should be able to open this lower dantian soon. It’ll also pave the way for a new path.

'Besides, I wonder what Nox’s mental world looks like?'

Condition to open the lower dantian. It's by moving to the mental world. A virtual space that manifests according to one’s will.

So, if the lower dantian opens in Nox’s current body? Will it be a manifestation of my will or an ignition of Nox’s talent as a character? This made me curious, but unfortunately, it wasn't possible to immediately solve it.

"You haven’t opened the lower dantian yet."

"… Who wouldn't? Have you ever seen anyone master the Dragon’s Breath technique in a day?"

"Nope."

"…"

To Astrid's confident reply, I let out a small sigh and stepped away from her embrace. Then, looking directly into her calm eyes, I said

"There’s a faint flow of magic in the lower dantian, though."

"Barely, like a rat’s tail."

"In any case, it’s just a matter of time."

I added with some emphasis,

"I’ll master the Dragon’s Breath, so please formally accept me as Astrid-nim disciple. There’s still a lot I want to learn from you."

"Emmmm… There's no other choice, Noah did ask me after all. It’s annoying, but I’ll help a little. In return, there’s one condition you have to keep it."

This time, Astrid looked at me with a serious expression. Her voice had a gloomy tone as she spoke. Somehow, I could sense a fraction of Astrid’s past from her words.

"Never lie to me. As long as you keep that promise, I’ll accept you as my disciple."

Why was she asking that. In fact I already know.

But I’ll save that explanation for later. There will definitely be a time to talk about it someday.

Therefore.

"Of course."

I just shrugged as I continued calmly

"I have no reason to lie to you."

------------------------------------

It’s been about a month since Astrid started teaching me. And as my lifespan steadily dwindled, finally the beginning of the main episode was approaching. It all started with Professor Fritzel from the [Joint Martial Arts] class.

“Eee… so, you’ll be participating in a martial arts practical session in a few days. Eee… safety is the top priority, and Eldain's also consider this event extremely important, so any rash actions or decisions will be forb… eee.. be careful of any rash actions or decisions."

"Oh my, it’s already that time, huh?"

Eleanor, sitting next to me, rested her chin on her hand as she spoke. I replied nonchalantly, "It seems so” but In fact, internally, my thoughts were completely different.

'The [Joint Martial Arts] practical session. Main Episode 3 is finally here. This one won’t be easy either.'

After surviving the Paimon episode, also known as the Newbie Crusher, and the Gambling House episode, we’ve now reached the third Merchant Group Collapse episode. To put it simply, it’s famous for its hellish difficulty.

The previous episodes weren’t easy, and this one won’t be either. Even so, we've had a lot of time to prepare, I guess you could say that's fortunate. It's true that there are plenty of variables to worry about, but it's fine if we manage them well. Maybe, things will go smoothly without any major incidents. Either way, hunting demons is the element you can't omit in Inner Lunatic, and should I call it luck that there are fewer concerns from relationship-building major points in this episode?

…Or so I thought, until about two hours after class ended. That hopeful expectation that I wouldn’t need to build any more relationships was quickly shattered. Thanks to none other than Eleanor, the main heroine of Chapter 3.

Eleanor De Rivalin. It was because she summoned me.

Some might ask,

No, if it's Eleanor's request, Wouldn't it be fine even if you don't go?

But I’d have to ask in return. Because…

'the one she summoned wasn’t me, but Shane.'

Shane. My alter ego, the one Eleanor de Rivalin bound to herself by giving him her mother’s keepsake. For some reason, Eleanor called for Shane. And the reason was…

"Please protect me during the [Joint Martial Arts] practical session."

She wanted me to protect her.

In the corner of a cafe run by the Rivalin Merchant Group. For a brief moment, I couldn’t help but look surprised.

Why? Eleanor shouldn’t know that there’s a force planning to attack her.

'That wasn’t in the original story. So why?'

Why What exactly tipped her off to the danger she’s in?

I need to review it quickly. before the apple mint tea on the table went cold. Inner Lunatic’s Chapter 3. The main episode’s upcoming flows and its plot.

[onlyplatonicirl]

Present Time

     “Grady you wanna go check out the food?” Casey held out the glitching skeleton at arm’s length, slowly and carefully lowering him to the ground while making sure not to ruin his cloak hoodie combo he had going on.

     Gradient wrung his hands together, “Uh, yeah. Sure- uh I mean, sure. Yeah.” The skeleton’s uneven pupils slowly floated up to where Casey was staring, quite perplexedly.

     “What. You ok, mate?”

     “Yeah, uh. I’m fine. We can go look at it if you want…”

     “What’s wrong with you? Bruv I’m not that dumb, obviously something’s wrong. What the hell is it?” Casey lowered to his knees so that he was level with Gradient. This whole time Gradient has been acting, weird, to say the least. Even before the wedding, Gradient was acting strangely aloof and distant, topped off with what seemed to be a constant layer of glitches shrouding his body. He was nervous, obviously, Casey could tell.

     Casey ran a hand through his hair and picked at the bandaid on his chest. Casey himself was always awkward with sentimental conversations like this, so it was a bit of a struggle to even get the next few words out. “Did… something happen... with something. I can fix it if it's something silly like the aisle song or somthin-?” He bit the inside of his cheek, watching as Gradient continued to fumble with his hands.

     The small skeleton fiance stopped fumbling with his hands, his eyes glancing up at Casey before darting right back down to the floor. “No! Nuh… no. Nothing’s wrong.” A wave of glitched matter cascaded through Gradient’s body, a deep sigh exhaling from his chest. He quickly placed a hand on Casey’s shoulder, his voice all shaky and upbeat like a runaway train. “Can we please just uh do something else, hahaha, we can go check on the food now yeah let’s go!”

     Gradient already began to rapidly walk down the hallway, so Casey had no other choice than to catch up to him. “O-ok?” Casey brushed both hands through his mop of a head of hair, shook his head, and chased after the small skeleton. This wasn’t going to be unsolved… Once they checked on the food, he would surely confront Gradient’s behavior. Surely. Casey firmly decided on that, shoving it all into the back of his head in the meantime.

…………………………

     “Christ that smells good…” 

     Casey and Gradient pushed open the massive embroidered doors leading into the reception hall. It was a food addict’s dream. The moment the two poured into the hall, a sweet, light, and airy smell indicated the presence of an array of sweets. This heavenly aroma was tinged with notes of savory beauty, providing salvation to Casey’s nose hairs. The smell alone was enough to increase Casey’s brain function exponentially, so when he looked at the actual display of clothed tables, he nearly fell into a coma. It was beautiful… so beautiful. Each and every table was brimming with platters of foods, basking under the golden light of hanging chandeliers and stained glass windows. Guests walked to and fro, in and out, winding between the tables, mingling in groups. The din of conversation mingled with the tantalizing gusts of food, nearly illuminating the atoms of the hall itself.

     As for Gradient, however, he looked nervous as ever. Casey noticed Gradient gravitated towards his body more, his eyes darting about as if he was searching for something.

     “Oh god… bruv.” Casey dragged Gradient toward one of the tables, his nose picking up something particularly alluring. The two hovered above a display of chicken nuggets sloppily thrown into paper bowls. A few paper cups, containing a variety of condiments, accompanied the nuggets, all littering the ironically elegant white table sheet. “Are those… nuggies?”

     “Yep…” Gradient’s cheeks flushed a brilliant green.

      Casey tentatively picked one of the nuggets up, examining its characteristically dinosaur shape. Without thinking, he popped it into his mouth, crunching loudly.

     “Eh, pretty good, mate are those hot pockets too-? Grady?”

     Casey peered down, only to find Gradient with his hand over his mouth, his hand extended towards one of the tables near the center of the room. “Casey…” Gradient’s voice was strangely low, carrying notes of elevated pitches. “Casey… the cake… it was supposed to be… not like that…”

     “Huh?” Casey popped another nugget into his mouth before floating over to the table in question. “Wow. Who’s Logan?”

     “I don’t know…” Gradient ominously whispered, hovering over the cake. He pushed his glasses further up onto his nose socket. The cake, the one layered cake, was frosted with white icing, the edges accented with orange swirls. Confetti sprinkles dotted the cake’s face, framing the curly cue styled words, "Happy Birthday Logan!"

     “Is this what you told Ink to get?!” Casey turned to Gradient, his eyes and mouth quivering into half amusement, half disbelief.

     “No! Christ… he’s so stupid! I told him specifically to get the cake I showed him over and over again! I showed him the picture five times, Casey!”

     “Uh. So… who has our cake?”

     “A very lucky someone named Logan, Casey. Most likely.” Gradient groaned and pulled his hood over his face.

     “Well, I’m sure he meant well, I uh-”

     A loud raucous interrupted Casey’s line of speech, drawing both his and Gradient’s attention towards the giant doors.

     “GET OUT OF MY LIFE, INK!!”

     “Shit…” Casey’s fight or flight instincts flared as a furious and short and yellow figure pushed through the doors and ran down the main aisle with his hands covering his face.

     The figure, Dream, violently whimpered and fell into the arms of a taller skeleton who wore a white cap and long white jacket, patting Dream’s shoulder as if he’d practiced the motion over and over. Another skeleton, adorned in a long hooded white cloak, awkwardly smiled and patted the capped skeleton’s back. Dream let out a long wail, the shrill sound violently bouncing off the walls and earning a few confused glances.

     “Oh crap…” Casey bit his lip and let out a heavy breath. Gradient just stood there with his sockets lidded, looking sadder than ever. A spritz of glitches sparked off his body, his eyes finally closing.

     The new voice, belonging to the capped one, broke Dream’s sobs, turning them into small chokes. “Shh, hey, it’s ok. It’s ok Dad, calm down… I know- oh- ok, I know… it’s a lot.”

     At a gentle wave of the capped skeleton’s hand, the cloaked one quickly slipped out of the building’s main exit and instantly came back with a startled skeleton, clothed in black and white. The two-toned skeleton exchanged an understanding glance with the other two and quickly pried Dream away, whisking him over to an unoccupied table.

     Casey open-mouthed watched the whole ordeal, shrugged, then began stuffing his face with Cosmic brownies from the table to his left. “Eh, skeletons are weird, well, except for you, Grady. Is that stuff normal?” Casey tried to stifle the primal fear that Dream evoked within him, focusing on the way the multi-colored sprinkles crunched between his teeth.

     Gradient did not respond, but instead dragged his sleeve across his face and kept a solemn gaze toward the floor.

     Noticing Gradient’s behavior, Casey wrapped an arm around him, feeling the electric glitches popping off his bones. He side eyed the table with Dream and the black and white skeleton, trying to decipher the strange yellow creature. He took another bite of the brownie, subconsciously chewing as he studied Dream’s hunched figure, how his companion soothingly rubbed his back.

     Casey reached his hand into a bowl of sour patch kids, stuffing them into his mouth. To think of it, he was feeling a bit energized from all that sugar… a bit high, actually. He felt like he was doused in heaven, finally having the ability to satisfy his unyielding urge to consume everything that had sugar on its label. Gradient wouldn’t let him touch more than one cookie a day, which was criminally unfair. 

     He slurped the sour goop gushing from the gummies.  “Uhh, hehe, Grady, hey what do you think of all this stuff?”

     “Oh… shit.” Casey looked up, only to find the gaze of Dream blazing into his soul from across the room. This time, his eyelights weren’t those innocent balls of sunshine yellow. This time… they were piercing neon street light yellow balls of sheer fury. His other features were masked by distance, but Casey could almost feel the heat of those eyelights radiating into his skin… Shit. He dug another handful of sour patch kids out of the bowl and frantically stuffed them into his pocket, a few of them spilling out. He instinctively looked back up, Dream’s sockets now half lidded, piercing death rays. 

     “Shit… Grady we got to go.” In response, Gradient just nodded a few times, his gaze still glued to the floor.

     “Yeah.”

     Casey wrapped an arm around Gradient’s waist and led him out of the hall, leaving the wide swinging doors and the cacophony of senses behind.

     Casey turned to Gradient and they held each other's gazes for a good long while. 

     And it looked like Gradient was on the verge of either words or tears.

1.) I do not know wedding terminology... it is truly evident.

2.) I made Grady a soggy pathetic cat... oops.

3.) i just like how this is getting farther and farther from the source material... even as the source material is farther from the original source material itself. i like that. (i think im just rambling)

EAT MOR GRASY i swear i just wrote this in an hour or somthin... heheh

MORE GRASEY WEDDING!!!!! Sorry I had this sitting in my inbox for like two days I was busy these couple days I wanted to sit down and properly read it.

DREAMMMM WHY ARE YOU RUINING EVERYTHING i know he's far away from the source material and out of character but that makes it all funnier tbh he's such a bitchy drama queen i hope he dies

[thelunarfairy]

Hey, when that incident happened, Teru was with Akane, one of the clock keepers. Why would he use the prince charming card while having the perfect alibi? His lack of self-awareness is hilarious though. XD I wanted to ask if Tsukasa is too strong or if the clock keepers are too weak and owls are too useless, but you've already talked about it. Thank you. I know Teru is stuck with handcuffs and no sword, but do you think he has a chance against Tsukasa? Cause Tsukasa seems undefeatable and unlike Teru, he decided to get caught and has a plan. ( I am biased)

Maybe because he himself said he can't have family or friends as an alibi, and like every jury, he also can't defend whoever is being tried.

It's generally like this, a judge cannot judge a family member or acquaintance in real life (of course it will depend on the laws of each country, but I'm talking about mine specifically).

That's why I think Akane didn't defend Teru or testify for him. Did you see he was also rooting for Nene?

He has to be impartial.

Hmm…. I think Tsukasa wins. I mean, Teru is a very good exorcist, but Kou said that his grandmother, with much more experience, couldn't exorcise Hanako, just seal him. Teru also lost to number six, they didn't even fight, number six just needed to attack by surprise, in this case, he tried to defend Kou.

If it were Tsukasa in that situation, do you think he would be knocked out like Teru?

So think with me, Hanako is sealed and he PURPOSELY pretends to be weak. Yes, he fakes it, did you notice that he recovers extremely quickly when he fights Teru?

When the entire fight scene ends, Hanako simply returns to normal as if nothing had happened. In arc number six the two fought intensely, or rather, Teru fought, Hanako only defended himself, he was crossed several times by Teru's sword, but when Nene appeared he simply ran away

RUNNING

As if nothing had happened. Remembering that Hanako was already waiting for Teru to exorcise him, he didn't mind disappearing because he was going to be away from Nene, so he was allowing it, he just didn't give up before because he wanted to take Aoi to the other side.

In other words, all this power that Teru claims to have is not as great as it seems. Hanako is so powerful that Tsukasa, who is JUST his yorishiro, is extremely strong.

So, Tsukasa is fast and strong, besides being very intelligent, he is clearly not afraid of Teru, in fact he is not afraid of anyone.

Based on this, I think Teru would lose, he would give Tsukasa a hard time, but he would hardly have a chance if he fought in Tsukasa's full form, that is, without any advantage such as an item that reduces his strength or anything like that.

Ironically, I think the only person (besides Hanako) who could give Tsukasa a lot of trouble is Tiara.

Yes, Tiara.

This would be an extraordinary fight, this girl has so much power that she destroys supernaturals with her hands, but no one is talking about it.

Obviously, she's a child so a serious fight between them wouldn't happen, but I'm comparing their power level to each other.

Tiara is stronger than her older brothers, consequently, she has a better chance of winning, remembering that she is STILL a child, so her power will increase when she gets older.

I can't tell you if she would have the ability to beat him, since we haven't seen all of her power or Tsukasa's, but I think that among everyone, she's the one who would give Tsukasa the most trouble.

[dwarvendiaries]

When Tax Collector was a profession in Dwarf Fortress

Today, if you dig secure lodgings your dwarves will live in an anarcho-communist society. Sure, you have nominal nobles such as Mayors, Barons and Monarchs, but all the dwarves have access to Fortress resources. However...

Long ago in the yesterday of 2007, nearly a year ago the first Alpha release of Dwarf Fortress has been uploaded to the Bay12 games website. No z-levels, no Artifacts and cats could adopt visitors to your fortress. And when you had appointed a bookkeeper and manager, the dynamic of dwarves would suddenly change...

Your fortress would suddenly go from to anarcho-communist to Capitalist. Dwarves would suddenly gain an account balance on their unit screen and hoard coins in their bedrooms, a new price menu would appear and shop would be available to build. In addition,

Dwarves would be paid salaries for producing goods (receiving a starting sum of ☼200 when the economy was activated.)

Dwarves would pay rent for rooms with higher quality rooms costing more.

The bookkeeper would demand the production of coins.

Nobles would change prices

Legendary noble dwarves didn't need to pay rent

Dwarves would be taxed from their belongings randomly

This neat little arrangement simulated a miniature economy. Dwarves who owned quality goods and better bedrooms would be happier, while dwarves who failed to do so...

she has been evicted lately (mood -10)

Further, developments led to the economy being unlocked on the arrival of a Baron, Count or Duke.

Dwarves paid for rent and food. Dwarves strapped for cash bought poor-quality food and would go into debt to not starve.

Coin moving would take precious work time from dwarves as they carried out transactions and collected their salaries

More features only increased the chaos. It was found that producing coins would actually make the citizens finances worse as the time wasted performing transactions, led to increased debt and inevitably mass homelessness. And when I say nobles changed prices, if you thought mandates were annoying then:

Dwarf Fortress's ever-ingenious players thus found themselves devising exploits strategies for preventing a tantrum spiral revolution kicking off whenever the aristocratic parasites barons arrived. These included intensive pumping regimes to quickly boost dwarves' skills to legendary and stockpile hauling cycles to provide easy and consistent employment.

The economy was disabled in 2010, but Toady One (Tarn Adams) has stated that he plans to reintroduce the economy in the future. Due to the unpopularity of its original implementation, it will not be without drastic changes. To this day players discuss possible models. I hope to see the dwarven economy again; imagine a tax collector doing the rounds every week. It would be nice if the value system was ironed out though.