#just so reserved and zero self preservation

[mmmairon]

dude,,,, you into fe3h? .... explains everything ....

It’s true, I’ve been outed. I’m a big FE fan in general. You’ll find my older arts are heavily fe. I mean to draw more sometime.

But yes I’m a Sylvain enjoyer 🥰 now that you say this I’m starting to see the pattern for FE redheads… Seth.. Eliwood…oh lord…

[mrdyketator]

when fletcher said ''i just had sex with my ex in a new york apartment. now im back where i started; brokenhearted.'' i felt that

[wongyuseokie]

The Best Day | l.c

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and your boyfriend has everything perfectly planned. 

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕smut | ♥︎ completed

Word Count: 1589 words

Pairing: Lee Chan x Female Reader 

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Smut, Fluff 

Content Warnings: Valentine’s Day fluff, silly dad jokes, funny banter (I think). Inaccurate but vague descriptions of Korea’s scenery. I googled images—kissing and Dino driving. 

Smut Warning: oral sex (fem receiving), food play (whipped cream)—ass slapping, spanking just once. I'm drooling over Chan, but that’s normal. Orgasms 

Authors Note 1: This is written for @svthub's Cupid for You collab and my lovely wife, @bitchlessdino 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷. I adore you so much, my darling. This was relatively last minute, but I hope you like it! I love you, my darling—Happy Belated Valentine’s Day. 

© wongyuseokie 2024. All rights reserved.

“Chan, I will fall!” You protested as your boyfriend insisted you wear a blindfold as he helped you out of the house. 

“Shh, trust the process, baby,” Chan cooed. 

“What process? You are kidnapping me with zero details,” you whined. 

“Three years, you have so little faith in me?” Chan asked, feigning hurt. 

“You’ve blindfolded me and told me to dress comfy and said all we’re doing is something fun,” you said. 

“Sorry baby, I need to be vague for our Valentine,” Chan declared. 

“Shit,” Chan mumbled as he helped you into the car. 

“That’s what we're doing?” You exclaimed as Chan mumbled a ‘yes.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” Chain complained as he got into the car and the driver's seat and you could hear the pout in his voice. 

You blindly reached out your hand over the console, placed it on Chan’s thigh,  and squeezed it slightly. 

“All you’ve told me is it’s for Valentine’s, nothing else. Don’t worry, you haven’t told me anything,” you said, attempting to comfort him. 

“Phew, then we’re good,” Chan said determinedly. 

“Okay, you can take the blindfold off,” Chan instructed. 

“Wait, you made me wear a blindfold just to walk from the house to the car?” You exclaimed dramatically as you ripped the blindfold off. 

“Yes, if you saw how handsome I looked, I was worried you’d just drag me back to bed,” Chan said with a wink. You rolled your eyes at his admission.

 “You are hot, and you’re right. I would have dragged you back to bed, but I do have self-control,” you joked. 

“Not that I’ve seen,” Chan said with a smirk. 

“Shut up.” 

As Chan drove, you both embarked on your road trip through Seoul. The landscape unfolded before you like a painting. As you both left the bustling cityscape behind, you found yourselves slowly cruising along the winding roads that led you to the lush green countryside.

The journey was picturesque as you both navigated through serene valleys adorned with vibrant cherry blossoms, and their delicate petals danced in the gentle breeze. You saw mountains that stood majestically in the distance, and their peaks shrouded in wisps of mist, creating a scene straight out of a postcard.

You pass by quaint villages, where you catch glimpses of traditional Korean architecture, that had been so well preserved. You observed lush, emerald coloured rice paddies, that created a patchwork of greenery.

As the drive continued, the road meandered along the coastline, allowing you to steal a breathtaking view of the sea, the way it sparkled with the sun. You saw the waves rise and crash, and you took a breath, as you soaked in the tranquility of the sea.

You saw cascading waterfalls tumbling down moss-covered rocks, serene temples nestled in verdant forests, and ancient fortresses perched atop rugged hills.

As day drew closer to an end, you saw the sun starting to dip below the horizon, watching as the sky turned into hues of pink and gold, and in that moment you found yourself overcome with joy, love and emotion.

“Chan, this is beautiful,” you sighed as you saw the sights. 

“Isn’t it? I wish I could do this more often, but time with you and the sights almost make up for the fact I’m not the best boyfriend,” Chan mumbled. 

“Hush, you are the best boyfriend ever, and yes, maybe we have to do things a little differently than most couples, but that doesn’t mean you’re not amazing,” you said, reaching over to run your hand through his hair. 

“I think Cupid shot me in the ass because I think I just fell even more head over heels for you,” Chan said smugly, making you roll your eyes. 

“You are so lucky. I love you,” you mumbled. 

“I am.”

“Holy shit,” you gasped as you walked into the beautiful house Chan had rented. 

“You rented this for us?” You asked as he led you into the house, holding your hand. 

“Yes, for the entire weekend. Notice that it's super isolated, too? So you can scream as much as you want,” Chan suggested flirty. 

“Why would I be screaming?” You asked. 

“Because baby, it’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m going to spend it showing you how much I love you multiple times, too,” Chan explained, making you giggle. 

“But first, we must set the mood. I am going to get the strawberries and cream,” Chan said. 

“Huh?”

“They’re aphrodisiacs,” Chan stated. 

“You just want to start fucking straight away, don’t you?” You teased. 

“Problem?” 

“Nope, but I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t prepare as much for today. I’ve been strapped for cash after online shopping, so do you want to unwrap me instead?” You teased. 

“Gladly, you’re the best present, plus I can eat you.” 

“Chan! Shut up!” 

“Can you please, for the love of god, get hard?” Chan yelled at the bowl of whipping cream that just would not seem to comply. 

“Babe, if getting hard is a problem, I hope you realise that it happens to many guys, and there is medication if it persists,” you said. You were peeling the stalks off strawberries, being Chan’s dutiful sous chef, and making smart-ass comments like the last one was high on your resume, and Chan turned around to glare at you. 

“Okay, one, don’t quote friends to me. Two shut up.”

“You look hot, by the way,” you complimented, focusing on your strawberries. 

“I know I am.” 

 “Baby, I’m serious. Come here for a second,” you said, motioning him to the kitchen counter where you were sitting. 

“Yes?” Chan said as he placed his arms by your legs. You pulled the hoodie of his zipper off and pushed the fabric off his toned body. Chan narrowed his eyes at you.

 “Seriously, how is it fair that I am shirtless and you aren’t?” You smiled, rolling your eyes at his comment. 

“I’m wearing a shirt. You, on the other hand, like a fucking idiot, wore a hoodie in a kitchen,” you quipped. 

“Why are you, my assistant again?” Chan asked. 

“Simple, you love me, and you’re a simp.”

“I am.” 

You had to bite your lip when you saw your boyfriend’s exposed back. His broad, tanned shoulders and muscles were enough to have you drooling. 

“How are the strawberries going?” Chan asked; you grinned as you hatched a plan. 

“They’re good,” you mumbled, a mouthful of strawberries, and Chan dropped his whisk into the bowl. 

“You’re not meant to be eating them,” he said as he turned around and glared as he saw you suck and bite into a strawberry. The fruit's juices coated your mouth, enough to make Chan snap. 

“Okay! That’s enough!” 

You looked at Chan innocently as you licked your lips.

“Baby? Is it sweet enough?” You asked, and Chan closed the gap between you as he pulled you in for a kiss. Chan’s hands went to the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off, groaning when he found you naked underneath it. 

“Sweet,” he said against your lips.

“Fucking sweet,” he praised as his hands moved to move the glass bowl of strawberries to the other counter. 

“Lie down,” Chan said. You nodded, gasping slightly at the cold marble hitting your back. 

You felt something cold on your stomach, and it moved its way down to your cunt. “Fuck, Chan, what is that?” You asked.

“Whipped cream, god, and it is going to make that sweet little cunt of yours even sweeter,” Chan said as he lowered his head. You moaned as you felt the whipped cream trail further down. Chan pushed your legs apart as he leaned down to wrap his lips around your cunt.

 “Fuck, I was right. So sweet,” Chan praised, making you moan as you tangled your hands in his hair. You felt his lips and tongue move in such delicate yet thorough movements. He left no part of you untouched. It didn’t take long; with the way his full lips wrapped around your clit, and the way his tongue flicked at your clit you came pretty soon. 

“Fuck, you somehow taste sweeter than the cream,” Chan said as he helped you sit up on the counter. 

“Come on, let’s get you to the shower. I want you to cream for me,” you glared at him. 

“Do you ever think your jokes might be the biggest turn-off for me?” You joked, and Chan threw you over his shoulder and slapped your ass, making you moan. Chan smirked.

“Yeah, that moan proves otherwise.” 

[charalysis]

Kratos Part something or Other: Dynamics Between Faye vs Lysandra

In God of War, Kratos has been married twice. I would like to take the time here today to analyze how he functioned as a husband in each relationship, how it succeeded or not, and the difference between who he was at each stage in life in each marriage.

I think here, I'd actually like to begin with the second marriage, his marriage to Faye.

Faye

Starting off with some background, when Faye and Kratos met, it's canon that the two fought, nearly killing each other. But they stopped the fight, both being world weary. Eventually they got to know one another and fell in love. Ten years after their meeting, they built their cabin we see in game, and that's about when Kratos confessed his past and his true nature to Faye. Then twenty-two years after that (yeah zero idea how Kratos didn't realize his wife wasn't mortal after she barely aged in 32 years), they had Atreus.

Now! In the game (from the dream sequences obviously), we see Faye is playful with Kratos, teasing him and calling him Grumbles, while Kratos seems stoic and unresponsive to much of it. Though, it must be something he actually loves about his wife because otherwise he'd be annoyed by it, which he isn't. He just... Let's it be. And Faye seems to always be giving him sly little smiles, knowing he isn't as annoyed as he may try to play with his vague grunts. Faye is also the idealistic one, wanting to help all she can, when she can, and maintain a certain balance in the world. She's open and kinder and believes it's her responsibility to fix the problems she can, and encourages Kratos to do the same.

On Kratos's end, he's quiet, content to watch Faye and listen to her over speaking himself. He's softer with her, though, than others. Gentle and he actually tries to express his feelings with her. At times his own emotions can come out in him trying to dissuade Faye from her own course of action (wanting to bury her instead of cremate her and trying to tell her he dislikes the notion of cremation), but he ultimately listens and heeds her wishes because he loves her. In terms of ideals, Kratos is Faye's opposite. He's overly focused on attempts at practicality and self preservation to the point of ignoring others, and attempting to avoid what is reasonably easy for him to fix.

As a couple, they're essentially the epitome of opposites attract in terms of personality. Faye is the lighter, happier one. She's open to new ways of thinking and living, often going out of her way to try and improve conditions around her or protect others. Kratos, on the other hand, is reserved and a bit depressive. He often outright rejects new thinking because it goes against his own deeply ingrained way of thought from his Spartan upbringing. And because of his history, he's a bit reclusive and often only seeks to sustain and protect those dear to him.

The difference in their personalities is also reflected in how they raised Atreus as a couple.

Faye taught compassion and kindness and love. She taught Atreus to think outside himself and feel for others.

Kratos taught Atreus to shut himself off so he couldn't be hurt. He taught Atreus self preservation above all else because it would keep him alive.

Unfortunately, because of Kratos's attempts to control his temper and never let it get the better of him, thus being away frequently, balance was never brought to Atreus's foundations growing up until his teens.

Faye and Kratos were very in sync as a couple, but parenting seemed to be difficult between them because they clearly had wildly different styles, and because of Kratos's avoidant nature, it was never reconciled.

Faye often encouraged Kratos to be better than he was before, to push forward and look towards a brighter future. Something he struggled with especially after her death.

Lysandra

In the assumed canon, by the time Kratos is God of War he's around 38 years old after his ten years of service. This places him at at least 26-28 when he made the deal with Ares, then broke his oath to him. Spartan men were encouraged to marry at 20, but not allowed to live with their family until relieved of active military duty at 30, at which point they'd be legally required to marry.

This means it's likely Kratos married Lysandra at 20-ish, then they had Calliope around one to two years into the marriage. This is just timeline establishment.

Now, similar to their daughter, Lysandra held no fear of Kratos, unlike many. By the time she met and married him, Greece knew him well as a fierce captain and warrior. But it seemed, to Lysandra, he was a man like any other. She loved him as he was, flaws and all.

This is not to say she had any real personal reasons to fear him. He was far from abusive to her. He adored his wife and brought her beautiful gifts when he did come home.

One thing it is known about her in relation to her lack of fear of her husband was her ability to call him out. To tell him what she felt and thought of his actions. She was not afraid to tell him her concerns that at times he didn't seem to be pushing for the glory of Greece. She felt he was often pushing for personal power instead. She tried to encourage him to find less violent methods of solving problems.

According to Kratos in GoW: Valhalla, Lysandra saw in him a goodness and a better path long before he could.

Lysandra was absolutely one of the few things keeping the younger, more impulsive and brash Kratos somewhat grounded.

I think their marriage was probably a bit tense at times, but still very loving and affectionate. It's clear Lysandra was a loyal and loving wife, and Kratos did his best to show he loved her in return.

However, Kratos outright calls himself a bad husband to her and says she deserved better from him.

This shows that, perhaps in hindsight, Kratos knew his behavior and actions were negatively affecting Lysandra, whether he meant them to or not.

Kratos also says that in the way Lysandra tried to help him be better, Faye reminds him of her. They both pushed him to improve himself and be a kinder person, to be thoughtful and selfless.

[kessielrg]

[MMX] Future Me Hates Me: Part 4

Summary: After stumbling upon a Light Capsule, and having it erroneously refer to her as Kalinka, Aero seeks to figure out just what her family connection is to Doctor Light. Meanwhile, after the death of Iris, Zero vows to absolve himself of his past. However, as Aero becomes the target of a Maverick, Zero is forced into finding that not all bridges can easily be burned…

Rating: K+

word Count: 1,748 words

Part: 1, 2, 3, [4], 5

. . . .

“Okay,” Aero decided after reaching the second floor of whatever building they were in, “Now I feel like we’re being watched.”

“Just now?” Zero questioned as he disabled another trap. This one would have shot plasma bolts at them. All of these traps were new, potentially even placed within the last day or so. Someone knew they were coming.

“Look,” came the retort, “My brain reserved most of its deductive reasoning for stubborn code. At this point, I’m surprised if there’s any space for self preservation at all.”

“As long as you’re aware of it.”

Aero cocked a bemused eyebrow, but didn’t drag the conversation much further than that.

The Cossack family vault was in what could more accurately be defined as a bunker. Once highly controlled and monitored, the bunker -spanning 11 floors deep- had long since been placed on a ‘self-sustaining’ prevention measure. That is to say, no one cared or even knew it existed anymore. Zero was surprised someone hadn’t cracked all the vaults yet. This felt like a goldmine for gravediggers- the only thing stopping the steel doors from opening to whoever was a simple keypad password. Thankfully for both him and Aero, the Cossack vault was on the fourth floor. They had already gotten past the second floor, and just started navigating through the third.

“Maybe I should be grateful that my family's past is so colorful,” Aero mused, mostly to herself. “Who else can say that they’re being followed while heading into an abandoned bunker-vault? Not that I want to be followed or anything. Beats being at home.”

Zero immediately grimaced. “What is it with humans and reminiscing on the past?” he grumbled back. “That stuff doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Aero cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Question,” she then said, “Have you ever stopped to consider that you should let yourself grieve for once?”

“I AM grieving!” Zero immediately snapped, turning around to glare at Aero once more. His fingers itched to pull out his sword, but knew that doing so was just as pointless.

Aero’s own gaze darkened.

“Then say her name.” she challenged. “Say her name and cry about it like you want to. Stop taking it out on me. There’s a lot of crap I can take from you Zero, but this? Get a damn therapist.”

“You don't know-”

“What I’m talking about? Are you seriously pulling that line with me? After Doppler, who took me in for awhile? After knowing I’ve witnessed my own parents’ murder? You’re the one who doesn’t know anything. Get out of your emo bubble and grow a pair. I remember the ones that left me, and look back on the rest of my family so I don’t forget. It’s always better than pretending they were never there.”

With that, Aero started back on the path again. She refused to look behind at Zero. What he hated the most was that he knew she had a point. It took him a moment more to realize that he was genuinely sad. He almost wished that he could cry like X could. Almost.

Swallowing back some of his pride, Zero took Aero’s side. There was a bit of effort on his part to match his wider footsteps with her smaller ones.

“How long have you known?” he asked her. His voice bordered on harsh, but there was the tiniest hint of envy.

For this, Aero all but gave a wave of her hand as she said, “Repliforce dissolving was quite a spectacle on the news not long ago. I think they’re still having ethical debates about it.”

“I meant Iris.”

“Ah. That.” Aero then looked down at the ground. “X had the Maverick Hunters set up a meeting with me not long after you two got back. He tried to keep it professional, but you could see it in his eyes. He was scared. Worried. For me, for you especially… He wanted to make sure I knew, so I wouldn't bring it up when we made fun of each other.”

Resisting the urge to place a hand on Zero, Aero instead looked up at him.

“For what it’s worth, I wish Iris had lived too. Our ideals weren’t the same, but she had the power to brighten up a room just by being there. There were a lot of friendly chats I wanted to have with her.”

Zero raised an eyebrow. “Actually friendly, or our ‘friendly’?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

That got Zero to smirk by the tiniest hair.

“She probably would have liked that too,” he softly admitted. “You might have even been able to change her mind- just a bit. She could be just as stubborn as Colonel.”

“Oh, I know what that’s like.” Aero laughed. Zero joined her. Never will he admit that, in that moment, he knew he could trust Aero with Iris’s legacy.

. . .

The fourth floor felt far different than the others when they reached it. Everything was too quiet to be natural. Zero was sure that he was picking up signatures from something other than small rodents and other minor pests. For a flicker of thought, he remembered that Aero was unarmed this entire time. She’d barely be able to carry herself if they did run into someone. Well, she might be able to, but not for long. She should have been a Reploid. It would have made times when she got herself in trouble a bit more tolerable.

A very similar thought crossed Aero’s mind as well. She knew for a fact that airport security would have taken any weapons off of her before she had the opportunity to even board the plane. Not that there weren’t ways around that, but she only found out two hours ago she was being followed. Hindsight was a bigger jerk than Zero was.

Their suspicions were proven well founded when they reached the Cossack vault. There waiting for them were five Reploids dressed in dark grey robes without hoods. One of them was still trying to work the vault’s keypad.

“Get away from that vault!” Aero demanded  first- beating Zero to it by just the tiniest fraction.

The Reploid at the keypad paused for a moment. They took their time standing up, and turning their attention to Aero and Zero.

“Ah, you came a bit earlier than expected.” they said in a smug tone. “So you have the blood to open not only the vault, but the capsule inside of it as well. Go on, we’ll protect you every step of the way.”

“She already has protection.” Zero then affronted. He withdrew his saber and gave the robed goons something terrifying to look at. “Seems to me you five are tramping on family property. It’s best if you leave, or else this might get worse… for you.”

“Alas,” the leader lamented, “We’ve come too far to be stopped so easily.”

With a snap of their fingers, the four goons occupying the leader went straight to Zero. To their defense, despite not lasting very long, they put up a pretty decent fight. In those precious few seconds, the leader went straight to Aero. The human reacted by bracing herself, successfully putting the two of them in a hand-to-hand deadlock.

“You’re stronger than you look.” the leader approved.

“Thanks, it’s the trauma.” Aero shot back, even pairing it with a condescending smile.

“But has no one told you that trauma lowers your defenses?” the leader questioned. Not long after, they gave a precise turn of their hand that forced Aero’s wrist into a painful position. By the time she gave a yelp of pain, the leader had taken both of her hands behind her back, making her a buffer between them and Zero.

“Not a very robust group you’ve got.” said Reploid remarked as finished off the goons. When he turned around, Zero immediately went back on guard.

“It doesn’t matter!” the leader declared. Aero flinched- their voice was far too close to her ear for comfort. “The sacrifices of many will never compare to when the key to the ultimate Reploid is ours!”

“Oh great,” Zero whined, “There’s either more of you, or you’ve got a complex going on.”

“Zero!” Aero snapped in exasperation. He seemed to ignore her for the time being.

“If you don’t mind,” the Maverick Hunter mused as he stepped closer, “I have a few questions for you.”

The leader growled. “What?”

“Well,” Zero then mused, folding his arms, “It’s not often for a Reploid to follow a human like this. Let alone one who isn’t directly involved with common Reploids today. Why would you target this one specifically?”

“Because she can open a Light Capsule.” the leader explained. “She has access to the greatest knowledge from our time! She has the key to know how to make the ultimate Reploid?”

“You know,” Zero said with a click of his tongue, “That term keeps getting dropped often as of late. What do you mean by ‘the ultimate Reploid’? Do you plan on making another template based on the first? What do you want to gain from recreating X from scratch?”

“X.” the leader hissed. “He is no Reploid. He is the ultimate failure. A coward. A pacifist! No, we want the knowledge to make what X could have been from the start- a leader. A king! We wish to rule the world with humans groveling at our boots!”

“And that right there is the reason why you’re Maverick.” Zero sighed.

“The only reason?” Aero interjected- a part of her in disbelief, the other almost about to laugh.

Zero simply shrugged. He then looked at her and gave a small nudge of his head. Aero raised an eyebrow as she took a look at her captor. Acting quickly, she stomped on the leader’s foot as hard as she could. The sudden motion caught them off guard, allowing Aero to move her elbow upward to hit the leader’s jaw. The leader let her go almost immediately, nursing the surprise pain from such a small human, allowing a good opening for Zero to go in and kill them on the spot.

“Well,” Aero mused as she nursed her wrist, “He sure wasn’t helpful.”

“And we still have to open that stupid vault.” Zero agreed, putting away his saber. “At least that weirdo won’t be a problem anymore.”

Zero and Aero looked at each other. In equal time, they both let out a sigh of relief.

[serkahstheke]

Heartache. It sits at the bottom of my stomach, heavy and stubborn, refusing to budge. Like the slow and steady gestation of a monstrous infant, its ugliness grows stronger within me day by day—growing eyes, nose, mouth, ears, limbs—rendering me bloated with hatred, my only desire being to kill it, rid myself of this burden.

You look too much like something that is mine, even though you’re not, and my heart is not used to that. It’s not used to having, but not having. It’s tired of hoping, of loving you, and its beating is slow and dragging, like a ticking time bomb taking its sweet time to count down to zero.

You are the sand I try to keep between my hands but the tighter I clench the more you slip through my fingers. They say when you love someone, you should let them go. If they come back for you, then you’ll know that they’re truly yours, but I handle love like I handle everything else: selfish, greedy, and anything but graceful.

I want to steal everything you give out so carelessly: your boisterous laugher, your sandpaper voice at 2 am over the phone, your fingers grazing the side of my neck. I want to keep them to myself, store all these little pieces of you in a tightly sealed jar and growl at anyone who approaches like a dragon atop a pile of precious gold coins.

People say you have to let the people you love go, but I’m not most people.

I am suffocating. I am drowning in you, choking on how much I want you. Do you know how much it kills me to see you give away these little treasures to everyone else? The myriad facets of you I thought were reserved only for me were for public consumption and bile threatens to rise up to my throat when I find out that you will sit half-asleep till the early hours of the morning with just about any girl who looks twice at you.

For the sake of my sanity and for my own self-preservation, I have to pretend that you are the bad guy, the bastard who enjoys attention from anyone who looks at you like you hung the moon while you dangle your heart right in front of their faces and let them swipe at it in vain like a cat at a feather toy—no matter what the truth is.

Only by doing so can I maintain an adequate amount of loathing in order to keep my dignity and not fall to my knees, clinging to your ankles, begging for you to keep me.

Is this what they mean by killing with kindness?

[defectivehero]

The hero clenched their jaw as they pulled on their hoodie, shoving the hood over their head in what they assumed to be a sign for everyone to fuck off and not talk to them. They walked out of the warehouse, shaking their head in frustration. Normally, Travis wouldn’t even get a hit on them, but they had been rather distracted today...

The hero was so lost in thought, they didn't notice anyone approaching them until it was too late. As soon as they felt someone grab their shoulder, they turned around and were about to punch them when the person spoke up.

“Hello there, little hero,” the stranger said, taking a step forward. The hero’s vision cleared, and they were able to focus on the person’s face. The person’s very handsome, very familiar looking face.  After taking in the stranger’s gait, posture, and facial expressions, their eyes widened and they felt their heart drop to their stomach. Not now, please not now...

“What, are you busy?” the villain asked, crossing their arms. The hero squinted at them in confusion, before realizing that they had spoken out loud. 

“Yes, I’m walking home,” the hero hissed, clenching their fists. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...” “Excellent,” the villain interjected. “I can walk you home, then.” “I’m not going home.”

“You just said you were,” the villain chuckled, eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Well..” the hero broke off, not sure what other excuse to use. 

“Come on, let’s go,” the villain tapped the hero's chest with their fist, and the hero let out a hiss of pain before they could help it. The villain frowned, eyes piercing into the hero’s. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, sorry.” the hero muttered, taking a step backwards. “Let’s go now, shall we?” they asked, not realizing they had stepped into the light behind them until it was too late. Before they could object, the villain was reaching forward and tugging their hood off their head. The hero grimaced, watching as the villain’s eyes darkened. 

“What’s this about?” the villain asked, gaze zeroing on their bruised eye.

“Black eye,” the hero muttered, their sense of self preservation telling them to run away. A frown appeared on the villain’s face.

“Yes, I can see that, surprisingly.” the villain muttered. “How did you get it?”

“Travis punched me.”

“Who’s Travis?” the villain asked, a note of possessiveness present in their voice. The hero winced, realizing their mistake.  “No one, no one-”

“Who is Travis?” the villain asked again, their voice low and ominous. The hero bit their lip, not sure what to do. If they told the villain, Travis could get killed. They didn’t really care about Travis, though…

“Travis is...” the hero broke off, still not sure what to say. The villain arched an eyebrow, waiting impatiently. “Travis is my nemesis.” “That's ridiculous. I’m your nemesis.”

“Well, yes, but Travis is too,” the hero said, before pausing for a second. “Actually, he’s not even my nemesis. He’s just an asshole.”

“That doesn’t help me in the slightest,” the villain replied. “Give me something, at least. Physical descriptors, last name, an address maybe-”

“Wait, wait. Hold on. What would you plan on doing to him?”

“I’d kill him, for touching you.” the villain answered, voice devoid of humor. The hero grimaced, mad at themselves for giving the villain so much information.

“I’m sure you would,” the hero rolled their eyes, pretending like their heart wasn't beating out of their chest. The villain shrugged, and their eyes met hero’s. For a fraction of a second, their eyes flicked downwards.

“Your lip is bleeding,” the villain remarked flatly, swiping their thumb across the hero’s bottom lip. “Come on, I’ll take you home,” they continued, placing their hand on the small of the hero’s back and leading them down the street.

©2022, @defectivehero​ All Rights Reserved.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Hospital rings up $2755 upcharge by sending pregnant woman to ER

“American health care billing horror stories” is one of my favorite, love-to-hate-it genres. The 24/7 gaslighting delivered by the health-industrial complex is quite a mind-zap and it’s nice to get these reminders that we’re not all hallucinating here.

Now, the very best versions of these stories are the successful self-defense/happy ending tales, the sort of thing the Arm and a Leg Podcast specializes in. They’re a powerful tonic against despair.

https://armandalegshow.com/

But I confess to taking a certain guilty satisfaction from the truly ghastly tales of medical billing, the sort of thing featured in Rae Ellen Bichell’s “Bill of the Month” feature in Kaiser Health News. And this month’s is a doozy.

When Caitlin Wells Salerno, a conservation biologist, went into labor in Apr 2020, she presented herself at the Poudre Valley Hospital in Ft Collins, CO. The hospital had locked all its entrances except for its emergency room, so she entered the ER.

Now, Wells Salerno didn’t need any emergency care. She declined a wheelchair ride to the obstetrics department, walking and even pausing for a selfie. Nevertheless, the hospital billed her for Level 5 emergency care (comparable to someone experiencing a heart attack), and charged her $2,755.

Level 5 bills are reserved for “a severe threat to life, or very complicated, resource-intense cases.” Wells Salerno was ambulatory. She wasn’t sick. She proceeded to have a normal, uncomplicated birth.

https://khn.org/news/article/how-billing-turns-a-routine-birth-into-a-high-cost-emergency/

Emergency Rooms are ground zero for the American “upcoding” epidemic, in which conditions are billed at the highest conceivable rate. Level 5 is the most extreme ER code, and number of Level 5s has skyrocketed, climbing 34% between 2009–15:

https://civhc.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/Data-Byte-ED-Severity-Level-Trends-by-LOB-April-2017.pdf

The hospital justified the charges by pointing to its new “Obstetrics Emergency Department” (OB-ED) which provides care to pregnant people experiencing medical emergencies. According to Poudre Valley Hospital’s billing department, the routine care that Wells Salerno received was delivered by OB-ED staff, not regular obstetrical personnel. It wasn’t emergency care, there was no emergency, but she entered through the emergency room and her care was handled by the emergency team. That will be $2,755, please.

OB-EDs are sweeping the country, thanks to the wave of ER acquisitions by profit-seeking private equity companies. Teamhealth — owned by PE giant Blackstone — pioneered their use. They boasted that OB-EDs are an “entrepreneurial approach to strengthening hospital finances.” That’s because they involve “little to no structural investment” but still allow hospitals to “collect facility charges that are otherwise lost in the obstetrical triage setting.”

Translation: by adding the world “emergency” to the same doctors and nurses who care for people in labor, we can charge extra for the services that used to be included in a childbirth bill, thus extracting a tax from the preservation of the human race itself.

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21089863-white-paper-obed-new-innovations-in-womens-care

Wells Salerno’s experience isn’t an isolated incident. KHN found four other area women who’d been gouged for imaginary “emergency services” during routine childbirth at Poudre Valley.

These stories give me a weird thrill, akin to the feeling of disgust and fascination you might get from watching a con artist throwing three-card monte. It doesn’t have a happy ending. Wells Salerno paid the $2,755 to the con artists working Poudre Valley’s billing department.

Speaking as someone who has a sick fascination with these tales, I have to say that Poudre Valley’s con is simply extraordinary. They’re not just overbilling for procedures — they’re billing for nonexistent procedures, and then gaslighting patients: “You got billed for emergency care because you were treated by emergency personnel.”

This is next-level. It strikes at the very root of the relationship between patients and the health-care system — the idea that your doctor won’t lie to you about how they treated your condition.

Poudre Valley is a leader among Colorado hospitals — in the very narrow category of overbilling for childbirth. They average $12,000 per birth, 43% higher than the state average (Wells Salerno’s birth cost her and her insurer $14,000).

Look, I grew up under Canadian Medicare (OHIP, the Ontario version) and lived in London for 13 years, receiving care under the NHS. I won’t pretend that socialized medicine is free from problems. Any big, complex system will have issues, especially in this degraded moment in which social services have been eroded by decades of cuts. But no one living under socialized medicine has ever, ever had THIS problem. This is purely a (totally predictable) outcome of for-profit health care.

While we’re waiting for public healthcare, here’s how to defend yourself from ER upcoding fraud: when you get a bill for care, ask the billing department, “Have I been upcoded?” You can refer to this handy chart giving the objective criteria for each level of ER service as part of that process:https://www.bcbsnd.com/providers/policies-precertification/reimbursement-policy/coding-and-billing-guidelines-for-emergency-department

Image: Sergey Demushkin/Noun Project (modified): https://thenounproject.com/term/pregnancy/374502/

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en

Icon Solid/Noun Project (modified): https://thenounproject.com/term/money-bag/31415/

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en

Stockes Design/Noun Project (modified): https://thenounproject.com/term/operating-room/3609494/

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en

Kgbo (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:National_cash_register_at_Barber_Bros_Co,_Isle_of_Capri,_Queensland_01.jpg

CC BY-SA: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en`

[badartxd]

Nothing suuuper exciting or finished today but I ended up colouring some old AU chibi doodles of my cambion Niya and … guess I’ll self indulgently ramble about her a bunch, mainly regarding their differences ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Original/D&D:

- disguised as a tiefling with the aid of an artefact, is unable to suppress her appearance on her own

- Never taught magic, some points as artificer

- The “youngest” one in terms of consciousness, could probably best be described as still being in her chrysalis state

- The Incident as a child has occurred, leading to her imprisonment and isolation at 12 (with the only family that would have accepted her being deceased)

- Has escaped her confinement and is on the run, but still hopes to reunite with her parents. Attempts to write them letters. Painfully naive overall

- Her family orders her death to protect their standing and disavows her. She doesn’t know or expect it

- Had a centuries’ long coma and very little control of her powers.

- Not really any gold scales or horn veins yet

- Is very confused and just as chaotic

- Past nobility with zero concept of money

- Very awkward, tries her best to be nice but is overall Very Scary. The cackling, rambling, talking to herself, and making noises to self soothe with periods of dead quiet focus doesn’t help, but she’s spent 300 years alone in a basement so she’s doing her best - she just has a bad awareness of people around her.

- Can’t stop talking

- absolutely no sense of self preservation whatsoever, will wander into an obvious trap while whistling up a tune and toss a close range fireball in a tiny tavern. Often doesn’t realize other people aren’t quite as “death proof”

- is a ticking magical time bomb

- is also absolutely godawful at hiding her nature, doesn’t even know what year it is when she gets out, hopes to make it on a bunch of stolen valuables but possesses zero street smarts, which she’d need to pawn a bunch of obvious antiques as a tiefling

- knows her heritage purely by accident, and is secretly absolutely terrified by it, considering herself a monster, and still hopes for a “cure”, whatever it may be

- Empathy is… hard. She finds it difficult to relate to people and has few reservations regarding murder and other morally questionable things, depending on the crowd she ends up with.

- suffers from frequent and intense night terrors about the Incident and Carrie’s the guilt for it

- An unrepentant magpie that will collect anything shiny, be it stolen, found, or looted. Disregards curses on items she took a liking to as “neat quirks” that add character to the item to the point where she’ll absentmindedly hand you a possessed dagger to cut your cheese without a second thought or a word of warning

- has an unapologetic obsession with dragon paraphernalia, dragons being the animal on her family’s crest

- a total pyromaniac

- deathly afraid of heights despite being a winged creature

- would probably insist on being Fun Scary

- needs a hug real bad :(

Modern:

- has also experienced The Incident and being locked away, but has instead been subjected to numerous attempts to “cure” and “purify” her instead, which ended up being just about as traumatic

- the “healers” sent to her were often disposed of after finding out her nature, which brought upon a string of attempted murders and assassinations in retaliation to said disappearances. Few got very close, but at that point her being a scared infernal spawn with uncontrollable sorcery has proven.. helpful(?)

- she was taught magic in the process, and is probably the most competent one of her other two counterparts, being able to casually perform complex spells, calm herself to avoid outbursts, and use Alter Self to present as a sun elf.

- for the same above reasons, she is also the most jaded, as she’s had to put up with her family’s cynicism for much longer and has been harshly conditioned to stay behind the scenes and dispose of anything that would compromise the family status

- has been released into the world due to the accepting family member’s influence, under surveillance at first, and has chosen to distance herself from her family. They haven’t objected too much because she is largely a liability both due to her character and her compromising origin

- Lives alone in the middle of nowhere in an old overgrown mansion. The basement still has the dungeon where she was kept, and the rooms are well suited for something that is old and not quite living - there is no kitchen, and most of the rooms are taken up by items of varying antiquity, all having been of notable novelty at one time or another

- It has taken her quite some time to readjust to the world, but she put in the effort. Still, she isn’t too familiar with many aspects of people’s everyday life, like supermarkets

- has chosen to start studying modern magical applications to medicine and works part time as a barista. She genuinely enjoys both, being a high achiever (especially with having impostor syndrome for… obvious reasons) and the job has helped her adjust to life much faster. She doesn’t usually sleep, which makes for plenty of study time

- is very sociable, helpful, and friendly, but doesn’t let people get too close. No one knows her full name or where she lives, and she prefers to keep it that way.

- Teleports at will to return home using a destination circle (largely to avoid being followed), but still rides the train to its end stop each Friday because she likes seeing the world pass by

- Due largely to the Incident but also to her family’s political standing( the individuals involved being fellow long living high elves doesn’t help), she still deals with a significant amount of attempts at her life, but has at that point gotten proficient enough at handling and disposing of her adversaries for it to become little more than a nuisance

- Ends up feeling terribly lonely, but doesn’t know how to remedy it so she just pretends it doesn’t bother her

- Is a massive fan of horror and monster movies, having a special fondness for kaiju and blowing quite a bit of her wages on action figures. Not having to eat or pay bills comes in handy

- Despite not needing food, she really enjoys sweets and often takes the bakery rejects home with her

- volunteers at an animal shelter in her free time, though it takes animals quite a while to get used to her. Still, she’s sweet and patient and doesn’t mind a few scratches if she can be of assistance

- puns and snark galore, sometimes a bit too much

- loves punk style clothes but she’s just in it for the leather and spikes.

- her bio dad actually claims her in this continuity, which is… awful for her. He is, however, very nice to her and even teaches her to make contracts. Yay. Bonding. Not at all ominous or alarming to have Devil Dad in your life after going out for milk for 316 years, with absolutely zero strings attached

- blames herself for the Incident, but it coincides with resentment for her parents. Guilt and self loathing galore either way. Internally sees herself as evil and unworthy of personal connection

- has had plenty of admirers , but is very experienced at rejecting people. Awful. Is totally in to wingman, though

Regency :

- Baby

- no incident in this universe, so she has been able to stay with her family, remaining the appointed heir

- her change has hit her parents hard, with her father largely avoiding her since then, and the parents’ relationship crumbling over time for them yo only remain together for appearances, but once again the supportive family member saves the day so that Niya herself can remain a part

- has also undergone strict magical teaching and alteration training, but to a much less painful extent. She can conceal herself and has moderate control of her magical outbursts, but no training in any kind of battle magic

- attends city events like balls, but only under strict supervision and chaperones

- is more afraid of her powers than anything, and isn’t aware of her heritage. Assumes her appearance is the result of a deal, which is only a fraction of the story

- probably the most anxious of the bunch

- overheats when nervous or flustered

- studies magical engineering to one day take on the family business

- very sweet and excitable, although very prone to getting distracted

- is… extremely naive and *very* sheltered, but can get rather snobby at times, if only to discourage people from getting too close to her

- adores murder mysteries and monster horror

- her only real connection with the outside world are her weekly drawing sessions at the upper town salon

-spends most of her time in the garden or library

- secretly plots outings out into the town, disguised as someone else and armed only with her shaky teleportation spell casting, which can only end in disaster

Endgame(bad ending):

Uh oh oh no the girl has gone on to replace her bio dad and salvage the remainder of the realms he tore open by chaining herself to him and confining herself to the Hells for eternity. Immensely powerful, giant, shimmering, and… absolutely miserable, icy, and disconnected.

I suppose it beats being the sacrificial lamb in a plot for world domination , but does it really? The world goes on, but she’s doomed to be left behind.

Her friends and family are gone, her love is lost, and she is once again alone, this time forever. Her awareness of her own personhood is barely lingering save for faint whispers from the worlds beyond, and she can no longer tell too easily which of them are real.

It’s getting late and I’m getting less and less coherent, but this Niya is the Archdevil, a goddess, I guess. I have considered making her evil and indulgent before, succumbing to corruption of some kind, but I think she would primarily just be … lost. She’s never wanted power or control, especially at this scale, especially alone, and it would eat her up inside - ironically, that would mean she’d be trapped in her *personal* hell, in a way. If her father was a personification of the sin of pride, she is one of despair and melancholy.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I A THIRSTY INTERLUDE

First time reader click here

Bun Bun at 2:30 AM posting: This is 110% pornography. I wrote that when I was feeling extra thirsty over Tony and his Nano suit so yeah... A bit of choking a bit of mild suit bondage. Daddy kink 👉🏻👈🏻🥺 BDSM themes. Humor & porn. Has minimal correlation with the story and can be read as standalone smut-shot. Inspired by this NSFW tik tok audio (headphones!).

"OH MY GOD, NO! NO, NO, SHIT, FUCK, NO!"

"Princess, what's wrong?" Steve's worried voice rang high in the kitchen, followed by an alarming clattering of the dishes against the sink. "Are you hurt?" He didn't even remark on my use of profanity, which meant I'd startled the Captain for sure. He appeared in the doorway ready to fight, run; his eyes immediately drawn to his shield in the corner.

"Only what's left of my dignity," I sighed.

"Oh, okay," He visibly sagged, tension leaving his voice and his body. "What happened?"

I inhaled several times, feeling heat creep up my neck and blossom on my cheeks. It took a lot, and I mean A LOT, to make me feel embarrassed enough to fumble my words and palm my face but that was exactly what I did. "Well, umm... Tony found a couple of thirst tweets. Mine, from my sophomore year. And uh, retweeted them." I thought I'd cleaned up my social media quite well, actually. My fingers twitched remembering manually sorting through thousands of posts. Apparently, my fingers weren't clever enough.

Steve snorted, evidently having had someone tell him what a thirst tweet was. He, however, did not understand the sheer mortification that I would be subjected to at the hands of Tony. And my classmates. And Peter, oh my God. Natasha and Wanda too, probably. And Loki.

I. Was. Toast.

"How bad was it?" Bucky piped up, finally having dealt with the mini laughter fit.

"Not worse than what you two get up to in the gym when you think nobody is home," I immediately retorted in hopes of avoiding teasing from the metal-armed man. He would take the chance, of course, he would.

"Oof, I'm sorry, doll," Bucky whistled sympathetically. And promptly pulled out his phone, to, what I assumed, see the offending social media posts for himself. I assumed correctly. Bucky was bent over laughing in no time - was it my doing or did Tony's own commentary on them that made the whole situation so hilarious to the gramps on steroids?

"I will light you on fire," I seethed but remained where I was standing. There was no point in doing anything about them now. Screenshots were probably already being saved on everybody's devices.

Steve peeped over his boyfriend's shoulder, chuckling. "You had a crush on Tony? That's embarrassing, doll." He had the audacity to give me an innocent smile before returning to his dishwashing.

"Punk, I don't know if - and I quote: Not to be That Girl™ - it's trademarked, by the way - but Tony Stark could hit it and quit it and I wouldn't even be mad - qualifies as a crush." Bucky pointed out, the sound of his voice being drowned out by Steve's guffaws. "And this one definitely does not qualify for it to be a romantic setting. Listen: I'm not a fucking bottom, okay?.. there are seventeen question marks. But, like, can Tony Stark choke me in one of his Iron Man suits - nine more question marks." Bucky joined his partner's laughter, unable to continue.

I was literally on fire. My face burned, my hands shook. I had the strongest urge to stick my index fingers in my ears and loudly yell "la-la-la" until both fossils ceased to roast me like I was some sort of holiday brisket. "I hate you. I will burn... The heart... Out of you," I seethed.

"O-oh, honey bu-un, da-arling..." I heard Tony's sing-song voice happily calling for me. Too happily. Not good.

I had literal seconds to get myself scarce out of this situation. I'd already avoided the dozen text messages, two calls in hopes the engineer would drop the topic and go back to his Big Bad Science Project. I had underestimated his persistent desire to cause chaos and his terrible, no-good sense of humor.

It was fun and games when we teamed up to prank our friends. I just never expected for the tables to be turned this way, y'know? Betrayal of the highest quality. The turntables had been turned - decidedly NOT in my favor.

In a brief moment of panicked clarity, I opened one of the empty bottom cabinets in the kitchen. It took some uncomfortable folding and maneuvering but I got myself inside and pressed the door shut seconds before his footsteps made the distinctive noise of sneakers on tile.

"Capsicle, Terminator," I heard Tony greet the two laughing supersoldiers. "Have you seen my Princess?"

I melted a little bit at the way Tony called me his, I won't lie.

"Nope," Bucky lied shamelessly.

"She's in the empty cabinet," Steve chuckled at the same time. Top 10 anime betrayals, right there.

"Wow - and I thought we were friends," Tony scoffed, I assumed at Bucky. My body tensed and I prepared to dial-up my puppy eyes to eleven. My hiding spot was wack.

The door was roughly tossed open, my eyes landing on Tony's oil-stained jeans. He crouched down, his brown eyes positively sparkling. The engineer's body radiated smug mischief, fingers twitching in anticipation.

"Sorry, Princess is unavailable right now. May I take a message?" I said, pulling on the cabinet door and fully prepared to slam it shut in his face. I was NOT ready for any more mortification.

Tony's chuckle shook me to the core, louder and ten times more expressive in the cramped, dark space of my temporary lair. "Come on out, baby girl. I didn't peg you for a wallflower."

"Duly noted," I said warily, having been expecting for him to drag me out and carry me to his bedroom, caveman style. I had noticed that my dorky self revved up his gears faster than any stereotypical seductive shit. It was no secret, at least not for us 'vengers, that Tony was a huge dork himself but I guess it takes one to know one.

"So, my suits, huh?" He smirked after a brief moment and just like that, I Did Not Like Where This Was Going. The receding footsteps and quiet snickering only confirmed my suspicions. Tony's form blocked the opening of the cabinet, crowding me even further into the already cramped space.

"Um," I found myself pretty much speechless. Part of me was excited and yearning - of fucking course I was curious if Tony Stark, genius and former playboy, had found a way to incorporate his suits of armor into the bedroom. Daresay, it was the question of the decade, according to Cosmopolitan, GQ, and a whole lot of other large media outlets.

The more sensible part of me screamed shame for that, playing with an essentially massive, powerful destruction machine. Something meant to protect millions of people from bad guys and aliens. It seemed blasphemous to waste such an important thing on scratching a curious itch.

I blinked owlishly, squirming.

"Okay, out you go." Tony's patience had run out and he withdrew himself, promptly standing up.

I heard the tapping of his fingers as I ungracefully stumbled out. He was occupied with his tablet so I turned around to adjust myself and the things on the countertop I had accidentally jostled in my rush to preserve some dignity.

An arm snaked around my waist, cold and unyielding, brushing against my exposed midriff with metal fingertips. Goosebumps followed the touch as I shivered involuntarily, stuttering in my breathing. "Fuck." The sound came out as if it was punched out of my throat with force, breathy.

"What's your safeword?" Tony's neatly groomed beard scratched against my ear. His voice was heavy and his lips were moist.

"Banana," I blurted the first thing that came into my mind. My body was hot and yet, I froze in place. The sheer power that the man behind me contained demanded unyielding obedience. I had no choice but to comply.

"Friday, lock the door. Nobody but me, in and out." Tony growled, pulling my hips into his metal-covered form.

Were we really doing this in the communal kitchen? With Steve and Bucky probably fully aware of what exactly was going on in here? Tony seemed to have zero reservations about that; in fact, I was almost sure he'd orchestrated the whole thing somehow. Steve owed like a dozen favors to the engineer.

The thick of Tony's leg firmly wedged itself between my thighs, spreading them open just enough so I was forced to put a slight arch in my back to keep still, my ass and shoulders firmly pressing against his Iron Man suit. I felt the coldness of the metal through my clothes, heard the hum of the nanobots in my ears.

My blood responded, heartbeat pulsing in my ears in sync with the electrical currents supplying the man behind me with the immense physical power to match his mental one. "Shit," The sound of my voice was faint. His other arm began creeping up my side to my shoulders, making an unmistakable beeline for my neck.

Tony applied firm pressure on it, wrapping the gauntlet carefully - not restricting the airflow, just steering me as he wished. And apparently, he had some very strong ideas about my current predicament: "Got me right where you wanted me?" He asked, low and breathy.

As I attempted to make noise, his hand tightened on my throat. Eyelids involuntarily sliding closed, my lips shook with the force it took me to muster up enough oxygen to hum a sloppy. "Mhm..."

"Can't hear you, baby girl," His cheek rested against mine, scratchy and hot and smelling like iron and gasoline and Tony.

Another shaky breath, I attempted to force the words out - for some reason, Tony's presence commanded me to obey him like never before. I nearly shivered from the sheer aura of power surrounding my man and it was his cue to lessen the careful pressure on my throat - just enough for blood to rapidly rush to my ears, making the world even hazier. "Yeah, Tony," It didn't take me much time to give him the enthusiastic consent he was looking for.

"Uh-uh," Tony tutted cheerfully. His other arm snaked around my waist, dipping lower to play with the hem of my skirt. God bless me for wearing a skirt! The rough pads of his fingertips scratched against the soft, sensitive flesh of my inner thighs. "I think we're past first name basis, baby," The suit retracted, mostly. The nanotech allowed for different parts of it to cover Tony's body in odd places: I felt the gauntlets and the arm braces, as well as part of a chest plate, but waist down my man was wearing simple jeans and tee.

"Uh," My brain supplied unhelpfully, feeling the bulge pressing against my ass. "Daddy?"

"That's my girl," I was rewarded with a groan, so sinful and delicious, falling from his lips straight into my ear. The hand that had gone down south cupped the mound of my pussy with a tender gesture. "Or Iron Man's?" He teased, grinding into me from behind.

"Yours," I keened obediently, my body seeming to find it impossible to decide between rubbing myself on his hand and his cock. It was a hard choice - pun absolutely intended. I was long uncomfortable in my panties and Tony's clever digits surely felt it, yet he made no further moves. "Daddy," I tried to put how much I ached for him into words.

Tony hummed, placing his wet mouth on the juncture of my neck for a moment. His hot breath seared my skin. The curious fingers finally, finally, reached the apex of my thighs. "Fuckin' shit, baby, you're..." He didn't bother finishing the sentence, speaking with his actions instead, scissoring his fingers between my labia, running the knuckles over my clit.

Just to feel me pant and shiver. I was sensitive and so aroused it was nearly unbearable. Tony always made me feel some type of way and, once again, my man had outdone himself. There was no shame left in me as I shifted my hips to the rhythm of his hand.

"Please?" I asked him prettily, knowingly that one little word would get me everything I wanted. A hard fucking, a new dress, a car, or, Hell, my own private island. My eyes were pretty when I begged, he had said. I would move the world for you, he had meant.

"Baby," The whisper was rushed as Tony turned me around and claimed my lips, hoisting my ass onto the marble countertop of the common kitchens. My legs wrapped around his hips, seeking the warmth and relief of his skin on mine. I wanted him inside of me, inconvenient location and two layers of clothing be damned. I wanted to bury myself in him until either of us couldn't tell who started and ended where.

"Daddy," I whispered into the thin line of his mouth, conveying my all-consuming need in a single word.

My skirt was hiked up in a second, the gauntlets of his suit still on his hands tearing my pants in a single clean motion. Eagerly, I scooted forward to pop the button on his jeans; grateful for the fact more often than not, Tony choose to forgo the belt whatsoever when working in the lab. Today was my lucky day.

His cock, red and thick and hard enough to pound nails with, weighed my hand down for barely a second beforehand Tony's gauntlets closed around both of my wrists, securing them to my chest. His other arm swiftly wrapped around me, pulling me close to him, as close as we could be together without sharing a single body. The blunt tip of his manhood stood at my entrance - not just teasing it but seeking permission.

One keen that seemed to come from deep insight my chest and I felt Tony's breath hitch as our sensitive flesh met; he filled me up at least as superbly as I hugged him. We shared a moan and a breath, just feeling each other, feeling the moment.

We were short on patience. Tony's hand slid onto the small of my back, urging our hips to meet each other, setting a punishing pace from the very start.

"Fuck, Daddy, oh God," I panted. I wasn't used to getting things started with so little prep.

"Baby," Tony rumbled, trying for stern, having it come out as breathless as I felt. "Shit, so fuckin' tight," His words garbled.

The sound of flesh slapping flesh was loud, perhaps, loud enough for certain enhanced folk to hear should they happen to pass the kitchen doors - and if that didn't make my insides clench in the most delectable ways.

Tony grunted in response, a lewd noise adding to the cacophony. "Gonna come?" His teeth caught my bottom lip, pulling it slightly. "For Daddy?" He asked, all traces of his usual cockiness gone, as he pulled away slightly to stare right in my wide eyes with his baby doe browns, equally blown with lust and longing.

Neither of us would last. "Yes, fuck, Daddy, please," I begged.

His hips angled just right, Tony continued mercilessly railing me, holding up my weak body between his arms. I felt the cold metal of the gauntlets through my shirt. The shivers ran across my skin in heaps, like busy little ants.

"Come for Daddy," Tony ordered, yanking me closer to hit that sweet spot deep inside of me. I couldn't resist the command, feeling the waves build up with every brutal stroke, clenching, muffling the screaming of my release in the crook of his neck, relishing in the growl that left his lips as he followed me, releasing my arms and folding his torso over mine. "Fuck," Was the only coherent word that left Tony's mouth, his seed creating a sticky mess between our legs.

"Yeah," I moaned, unwilling to part from him. It was intense. My world was spinning on its axis and my Tony was the center of it. He said something again, something soft and quiet, and my only concern was to rub my nose on his pulse point, to savor and remember the smell of our shared pleasure.

"Baby..." Tony sounded... Concerned. He withdrew slowly, frowning at my sleepy state. His frown only intensified when I absentmindedly rubbed my wrists - there were bound to be some marks left from the force of his grip. It was hot and it was... A surefire way to tell the suits weren't really adapted for bedroom games. Kitchen games.

"Daddy," I mumbled, sounding sad and pathetic to my own ears. I kind of wanted to cuddle and watch a movie but it seemed weird asking that from Tony since we've done crazier things and I had never felt like this, never got this greedy.

"Oh, baby, c'mere," He had come to some sort of conclusion. After re-doing his pants and picking up the scraps of fabric that used to be my panties, his arms made a comfortable nest. I was picked up without any troubles; the gauntlets had disappeared, too, into the thin golden bracelets around his wrists. I allowed myself to play with them, the shiny colors doing a good job of distracting me all throughout the brisk walk through the main living room and the swift elevator ride.

Tony's bed was messy, unmade and smelled like us - just the way I had left it that morning. Tony's hands were gentle as he stripped me and then swiftly chucked his own clothes.

"Watcha' doin'?" I asked as he wrapped his body around mine.

"Shh, we'll talk later," He murmured, looking slightly dazed himself. "Friday, put Stardust on the TV. 25% volume," As soon as the command was spoken, one of my comfort movies began playing on the large screen. Tony's hand kept stroking my hair and I didn't resist the temptation to close my eyes, settling into a peaceful lull atop the glowing white-blue of Tony's arc reactor.

My favorite color in the world, to be honest. It felt like I'd slept for ages when I opened my eyes to see the color again. "Um, hi," I supplied meekly, feeling way out of my depths from my own strange behavior.

"Mornin', Princess," Tony seemed joyful, the bags under his eyes a little less prominent than before.

I made moves to get out of the bed but he wrapped an arm around me, tugging me closer. "What do you know about sub drop?" He questioned me, in response to my vaguely confused noises.

That's what it was?!

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

[swampgallows]

Hello! I hate to bother you, but I was reading though an ace post you were a part of and my best friend of 15+ years is ace. She has not told me but we of course follow each other on Tumblr and she revealed it a couple times. She and I are both like you 27-28 and I just want her to feel loved and accepted. How would you recommend I do so without calling attention to her? I want her to know she is safe.

I think people on tumblr misinterpret��“safety” as a matter of passive acceptance rather than deliberate action. Simply telling someone “you’re valid and I support you” is all well and good, but your actions and motivations need to actually be in support of that person. 

When my sister shared an image on Facebook about being a LGBTQIA ally (complete with the ace flag!) I thought it was safe to come out to her, but she told me “well, you just haven’t met the right person yet”, which is a giant square on the “shit not to say to aces” bingo. So, for me, her intentions were good but she was not actually safe to talk to about an important part of my existence.

Safety means that you will fully accept her for who she is, not just because she is your friend but because you genuinely have no problem with asexual people. If you truly want to be an Ally then you need to familiarize yourself with the other As: asexuality and aromanticism. (And agender couldn’t hurt either!)

There are a lot of ways to express your support for asexual and/or aromantic people without having to be direct, which risks outing your friend before she is ready. Here are some introductory pointers for accepting aro/aceness beyond reblogging ace flags and saying we’re “valid”:

Sexual behavior is not an inherent indicator of someone’s morality, worth, or desirability. You don’t “need” sex to be human, and nobody is entitled to have sex with someone else. People of any gender reserve the right to express their sexuality as they desire, even if the desire is zero.

Our culture has normalized sex without romance but only as something flippant and detached, yet also believes romance without sex is lesser or flawed. Aromantic and asexual people deserve to have their relationships respected without them being deemed insignificant or defective.

The sex-positive, anti-rape culture, and consent culture movements support asexuality. People have the right to express their sexuality, and that also means the right to say no. People are NEVER obligated to have sex, and that means NEVER. Even for their entire lives. People should not have to be constantly pressured to “try for the right one” or that they are “missing out”.

Question your value of others in your own life and the hierarchies of your relationships; does your sexual or romantic attraction factor into how you value people? Be open to the idea that, for some people, the bonds they form outside of romantic and/or sexual contexts can be just as significant or even more so. People can have non-romantic and/or non-sexual partners and still be “more than friends”. 

Resist exclusionist rhetoric which recycles transphobic, transmisogynist, biphobic, panphobic, and homophobic arguments attempting to dictate who “really” belongs in the community and whether or not someone is “oppressed enough” (gender presentation, different-gender relationships, “gold star” sexuality, “this orientation oppresses others”, dismissal as mental illness/hormone imbalance, etc.). 

Asexuality has been pathologized in the DSM up until 2013. After pressure from asexual activists, the DSM-V added a short disclaimer about “self-identified asexuals” but has otherwise preserved the entry for Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder. However, most sources on HSDD, including Planned Parenthood, do not mention asexuality whatsoever. This dehumanizes and further pathologizes asexual people as being broken, and that they can be “cured” with medical treatment. The gay, trans, and autistic communities endure similar dehumanization. Granting more representation and awareness of the asexual community can reduce the “personal stress and relationship difficulties” cited in the DSM by providing acceptance and understanding. 

Asexual people of other marginalized identities exist and experience different obstacles based on disability, race, age, gender, and culture, including increased suicidal ideation and interpersonal issues. Asexual people are not all college-aged white Americans; consider which voices are being silenced by others’ ignorance and be mindful of prejudice when learning about asexual struggles.  

She will be safe if you make yourself a safe person to the outer asexual community. As far as tumblr, reblogging ace-inclusive posts is a start, but you need a genuine understanding of asexual people to be read as safe. 

[lihikainanea]

so after the forest incident, tiger doesn’t go into sweden’s wilderness alone anymore. but she n bill are on vacation with his fam and gustaf takes her on a hike. tiger is loving it but one thing leads to another and she gets hurt, maybe a sprain. g carries her back and bill’s upset bc she’s hurt but he’s grateful she wasn’t alone. he morphs into protective mode tho and is a lil jealous that he wasn’t there to help when she fell. but g is happy to hand her off to bill so he can care for her - 🕊

Ohhhhhhh my. Sweet, sweet Gustaf. And like, Bill gets a little on edge whenever tiger and forest are mentioned in the same breath, understandably, because the last time was hell on Earth.

But like, the minute that she says she’s going with G, Bill is fine. And he’d go with them, but maybe the big dude is nursing a bit of a hangover that’s kicking his ass, and he promised tiger he’d take her on a long trail today but he’s just like...dying. And he knows she’s disappointed, but she’s trying not to show it and trying to take care of him. So when G initially offers to take her instead, she politely refuses--because Bill is a mess, really. He looks half dead. But he’s fine, and he knows she’ll really love the hike, so he insists.

She spends some time with him before she leaves, giving him a few gentle head scritchies and some strong coffee, maybe an alka seltzer and some Tylenol, a cool cloth for his forehead, just tries to get him back feeling somewhat human. And when G comes to get her, she pats her Big Dude’s gut and brushes that curl back from his forehead.

“Are you sure, bud?” she asks softly. He smiles--it’s a little pained, but he manages--and he flicks her nose affectionately.

“Go on kid,” he says and it’s all raspy, “You’ll love it.”

And then he says something in Swedish to Gustaf, and Gustaf just gets that wry smile and nods. Tiger gets up, ruffles her Good Dude’s hair, and Bill holds onto her hand. Tugging lightly, he pulls her down and she kisses him softly--because they can do that now, in front of G. But when she pulls away, Bill keeps hold of her hand.

“Tiger,” he says sternly, “You don’t leave his side, got it?”

Tiger blushes a little.

“Got it bud,” she says shyly.

“Promise me.”

“I promise Billy Goat,” she murmurs, and he pulls her down for another kiss. Some more Swedish muttering, and Gustaf is laughing as he ushers her out the door.

But like, listen. G’s a good dude too. G has no doubt kept a lot of his younger siblings alive throughout their youth, if/when he had to take care of them. But tiger is a whole other bag of cats, man--that girl has zero self-preservation skills, and is the clumsiest motherfucker Gustaf thinks he has ever seen. And he tried, he really did--but there was no stopping it. Maybe it’s not a sprain so much as like, a deep gash or something. Or maybe she THINKS it’s a sprain because it hurts like a bitch--either way, this image of Gustaf just carrying tiger back to the house is the thing dreams are made out of. And maybe Bill started feeling alive enough to be sitting out on the front porch, clutching his cup of coffee, when Gustaf appeared in the far distance with tiger in his arms. And it’s not like that one time with Valter-- Bill trusts Gustaf with his life, and he knows that if tiger STILL got hurt while under his care, then it’s pretty legit. It’s like the kid does it on purpose sometimes.

So he just sighs, starts untangling himself from his blanket. There’s no sense of urgency on his part, because he’s already taken in Gustaf’s demeanor--and it’s calm like it always is, not rushed, soothing. Bill knows that the injury is already well taken care of to the best of G’s abilities, and nothing about their approach is cause for worry. Bill just sighs as they approach, stands up and tries to get a good look.

“It really is a talent, you know,” G says, and Bill smiles wryly.

“What is?” he asks, “Her dedication to hurting herself, or the perpetual effort in just trying to keep her alive?”

“Yes,” Gustaf replies. The two bros laugh, and tiger makes an offended noise.

“I’m right here you fuckheads,” she snaps. But then Gustaf makes like he’s going to put her down, and she clings to him more, crawls up a little on him.

“No!” she cries, and both brothers look at her in satisfaction. But then she gives Bill those sad eyes--that look that is reserved for only him--and his heart clenches a little.

“What happened, kid?” he asks softly. She holds out her arms to him, and Gustaf hands her over as she wraps her arms around Bill’s neck.

“I tripped and fell,” she says, “Tore up my leg on a branch that was sticking out.”

He looks to Gustaf for confirmation, and big bro gives a subtle nod.

“Alright, let’s get you patched up then.”

And goddddd GOOD DUDE BILL. He just brings her inside, sets her up on the counter in the bathroom while he putters around. He’s probably still feeling way less than stellar, and tiger’s injury is really doing nothing for his already sensitive stomach. But he cleans her up, patches her up--maybe even calls in Dr. Big Bro to make sure she doesn’t need stitches, but of course as soon as tiger sees Dr. Big Bro she’s trying to flee because she STILL thinks he’ll try to stab her with a needle, and Bill just has to pick her up and throw her back on the counter.

But all is well, he patches her up, and she leans to give him a big smooch.

“Thanks bud,” she murmurs, and he cups her face for another kiss.

“Come on,” he says, helping her off the ledge, “You must be hungry.”

And on cue, they emerge from the bathroom to see G, putting the finishing touches on lunch for all of them.

GOD GOOD DUDE BILL AND GUSTAF.

[ninjakitten1699]

Clouse with attachment issues/ zero self-preservation/ Stockholme syndrome headcanons/ touch starved/ abandonment issues/ Emo personality/ megalomaniac...damn so much angst for one secondary character 😰

Well we don’t really have a background of any villains on the show so something’s gotta happen for anyone to be painted as a villain.

Best and worst part about this is that Clouse having this much angst is literally accidental.

Attachment issues? Possible but not likely. I mean he does have no fear of strangers and is clingy, but there’s not enough to say he does not doesn’t.

Zero self preservation? No. I mean he’s been alive as long as he could be in canon and he’s refusing to go down even after death so there’s nothing there.

And the Stockholm Syndome? I don’t see it. That would only mean that Clouse gave Chen sympathy when really it might be the other way around because Garm might’ve really messed Clouse up and Chen was the only one who ever helped his mage man back on his feet.

And you can imagine how much more messed up Clouse became when he watched Chen double in transformation than intended. He had to watch Chen lose his own mind into a more feral state. Chencondrai looked like he didn’t recognize the man he was close to but he also didn’t feel like he should hurt him. So it upsets Clouse when he basically watched Chen die twice. In mind then form.

Touch starved? Mm Nah. He doesn’t really have a problem with having distance between him and other people. Touch adversed? Maybe. I mean how would you feel being in a fight that involved so much physicality that you almost broke and now you’re just being careful at not getting too close, with a few exceptions.

Abandonment issues? Maybe more likely than I think since Clouse was always such a pleaser to Chen and typically people pleasers are those with abandonment issues.

Emo as in emotional? Probably. I get what you mean but he’s more reserved than others.

Megalomaniac? He’s not obsessing over his own power. I imagine that he’s not a sorcerer, he’s not born with the abilities like the Elemental Masters were, he’s a mage. He had to learn of his abilities all on his own with some support from Chen.

If anything, Chen’s the megalomaniac. That snake wannabe got told he’d be nothing, he’d have no success anywhere in life and went to prove everyone wrong by obsessing over everyone else’s powers and the influence he held. Clouse just supported and even helped him.

[nelllraiser]

lessons learned | remmy & nell

LOCATION: the ring. PARTIES: @nelllraiser​ and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: remmy and nell confront jax about remmy’s collar. CONTENT: non con (pheromones)

Remmy paced. This was happening. This was really happening. They were going to get this thing off. Lydia had helped them get rid of their promises to Jax, and it had felt like an entire ship of weight had lifted off their shoulders. Of course the first thing they’d done was tell Nell. And of course she wanted to help them get this stupid collar removed. Maybe she would even see this place for it truly was and quit as well. Maybe they could both just walk away from this after everything. Remmy could only hope. They wanted to be done with this part of their life. They wanted to never set foot inside that arena again. Their stomach still hurt sometimes, when they thought about it. They still saw it whenever they closed their eyes, felt it whenever pain spiked through their limbs. Hands clenched, they paced the road. Waiting for Nell. Kept their eyes on the alley that led to the entrance. She’d sounded angry, ready to barge in there and get this dealt with, and Remmy could only hope she wasn’t angry with them, for keeping this secret for so long, for not telling her. But she’d just dealt with everything with Bea, and her world was so different from theirs now. Finally, they saw her form appear down the road and they scurried towards her. “Y-your arms,” they noted, seeing them wrapped in bandages, “A-are you sure you wanna do this? W-we can wait.”

Nell probably shouldn’t be here. Even with some magical healing, her arms weren’t at one hundred percent, and seeing as she’d started with skin grafts before seeking out more supernatural assistance, there had been some complications to work around. So her injuries were still tender, though she could at least move with less pain now, as well as less chance of reopening the wounds. They’d told her she’d need to do healing sessions rather than it being a one and done because of all the energy it would take. But there wasn’t a question of whether or not she was going to come with Remmy to see Jax and whatever piece of shit might be in on this collar business. She didn’t entirely understand, as far as she knew- the Ring collars were meant for the disobedient monsters that were forcefully brought in my monster catchers like herself, the ones that were beyond redemption. So what was one doing around her friend’s neck? “Yes,” she said forcefully. “I’m sure. This needs to be fixed. If Jax thinks he can get away with this shit, he’s wrong.”

“I-- okay,” Remmy said. There was something more volatile about Nell-- Remmy didn’t know everything that had gone done or the entire story, but Luce had said that they brought Bea back, and after knowing how she died and that she died, they knew it couldn’t have been an easy thing. Hesitating just a moment, Remmy nodded. “Okay, let’s do this, then.” There could be no more hesitation. They’d have to do this quick, and corner him quickly, otherwise he would set off the collar’s defense and kill Remmy. Their skin prickled underneath it and they itched at it, the skin there raw and red, in a constant state of open wound, healing and reopening all the time. Keeping them weak, tired, hurt. They were ready to be done with it, with this place. They were ready to move on with their life. 

As they approached the entrance, they waved Nell around to the back. “We should probably go in this way,” they said, “in case there’s others up front. “ This was the way they usually headed in, when coming for a fight, anyway. It would look less conspicuous, probably. Hopefully. There weren’t too many people here, either, on a Sunday night. Sundays were usually reserved for the creature on creature fights, not as much fanfare, not as much excitement. It would be quick and quiet and hopefully Jax would just...listen to them. He had to, right? Right. This would all go smoothly. Remmy skirted over to the door that led to the back where they usually checked in with Jax and motioned to Nell. “This is it.”

Nell had always been a person of action, but Bea’s death had driven her even further down that path, no longer as willing to let things get to the point where someone might die. If threats could be dealt with, they needed to be addressed early on before things got out of hand. She wasn’t going to let anything even remotely similar happen to her friend, not when there was an obvious answer. Who the fuck did Jax even think he was, anyway? A glorified referee getting too big for his britches and throwing his weight around with Remmy? And exactly what had Ronald been doing on a peaceful farm? Trying to steal creatures? There were too many questions now surrounding the Ring for her not to have a word with Jax. She simply nodded, agreeing with Remmy before continuing on with purposeful strides, anger boiling in her stomach. When they got to the door, she didn’t hesitate, having no reason to. Without so much as pausing, she reached forward to jerk open the door, entering without so much as a warning to give Jax a piece of her mind. “What the fuck is Remmy doing with a collar around their neck?”

When Nell didn’t hesitate, Remmy felt their heart jump. The door flung open and they could see Jax inside, just around Nell’s figure. He was sitting at this desk, alone. And he didn’t even jump as the door slammed open. “Umm…” Remmy mumbled, glancing around, “Nell?” But Nell’s eyes were set on the man in front of them, lounging in his chair as if he owned the place. And he sorta did, this was his office after all. 

Jax smiled as the door swung open. He hadn’t been expecting Penelope to come as well, but a two for one was a good deal. Sitting forward in his chair, he shrugged. “I thought you understood the rules of the Ring, Nell,” he said simply. “If the creature disobeys, they get punished.” The door behind Remmy swung shut quickly and behind it was the red-eyed man, a vampire with little patience, just waiting. Jax gestured to Remmy. “The creature disobeyed,” he stated, then met Nell’s rage-filled glare. “Therefore, it gets punished.”

Nell had absolutely zero care for Remmy’s concern, knowing that it was well-placed, but her need to place this anger that was bubbling inside her was greater than a sense of potential self-preservation at the moment. Besides, she wasn’t scared of Jax. Recently, the Ring had been doing more than one thing she didn’t approve of, and she wanted answers. Both for Remmy, and for Jared’s farm. “Remmy is not a creature,” she spat, her arm jerking painfully towards the zombie. “Remmy wasn’t brought in by catchers, and has done nothing to warrant being treated like the ones I bring in. Remmy is not your fucking pet to punish as you please. I brought Remmy here of their own volition, and they will continue to fight or not fight of their own volition.”

“Oh, but my girl,” Jax said smoothly, coming around the table. He was holding something, fiddling with it in his hands. A bracelet-like object. “They are.” He had noted the tremble in Penelope’s arms, the bandages, the way she moved painfully. When his hand snaked out in a quick flurry, he had her by the wrist quickly. The vampire behind them moved forward in a flash, yanking Remmy back. All he had to do, then, was push one button on a small remote and Remmy was screaming, crumpling to the ground, as electricity poured through their collar. Jax pulled on Nell’s arm, knowing it would hurt, feeling her injured flesh below his grip. With bandages on, it was harder to push his influence onto her, but he could feel it seeping in, slowly, watching her body relaxing. “Calm down, child,” he said, his voice both venom and silk at once, “you’ll hurt yourself.” He moved, then, to secure the bracelet around her wrist. It vibrated and lit up, securing itself to her, digging into her skin, making sure it could not be removed. “That oughta do it.”

From the ground, Remmy looked up. The pain was still searing through their body. “Nell,” they huffed out, “Nell, what’s--” but the man behind them stepped on their head, pressed down. Remmy cried out again, feeling the pressure of his boot against their temple. He only stopped when Jax waved him off. He looked down at Remmy with sharp eyes, always so blue. 

“You brought this on yourself.”

Nell had never had reason to think Jax might use his pheromones on her, even if she knew he used them on others in his craft. So she was underprepared, in no way ready for the onslaught of them that quickly overrode her senses. As he drew closer, her body had initially tensed, as if ready for a fight, but that was quickly done away with as he spoke with that silver tongue, exerting the power over her. He was so...entrancing, wasn’t he? It was impossible to take her eyes off him, and she didn’t want to. But then came pain, and a strange bracelet locking onto her as she yelled out. Remmy? Remmy was in pain, too. Her brain was hazy, trying to work through the fog that Jax had put over her, but it was no use. Still, even if she was locked on Jax, she knew Remmy being hurt was that last thing she wanted. “Stop!” she called out, instinctively raising a hand to magic the vampire into submission. He wasn’t Jax, so she felt no inclination against harming him. But as the magic began to flow, more pain. It came from the bracelet, causing her to yell out once more. “Remmy? Remmy-” she looked between Jax’s shoe and her friend, caught in the throes of pheromones and her own brain, trying to battle for dominance. 

Jax liked the way the confusion clouded Nell’s eyes. Her friend was right there, crying out in pain, suffering, and all she could do was watch. This was his power. He reveled in it a moment before nodding to the vampire, who yanked Remmy to their feet. “Take ‘em to the cages,” he said, keeping his hand on Nell’s wrist to keep her calm, even as she tried to use her magic, watching it strike pain in her. He really loved these inhibitor rings. They worked for all occasions, even sapping magic. Another smile graced his face. “Now, are you gonna fight and need to be caged, too, or are you gonna be a good little witch and let this go?”

Remmy tried their best to look up at Nell, but tears clouded their vision. They needed to help her, this was all their fault. They had dragged her into this and now-- Jax had been right. Alain had been right. They were all right. Remmy was nothing but a danger and they had yet again put a friend in harm’s way. They slumped with their defeat, head bowed, and let the vampire drag them up, heading towards the door. “Please let her go,” they said, not bothering to look up, “please, Nell, just...please stop fighting.” Tried to look up at her once more, but the pain in their neck, the smell of burnt flesh, forced their head to come up no more than to be able to look at her waist, here bandaged hand hanging limply by her side. The other clasped in Jax’s grip. Remmy bit their lip. “I-I’m sorry,” they muttered, “I’m so sorry.”

The cages. Nell knew those all too well, often making her drop offs there when it came to monsters and whatnot. Perhaps in some world, it was poetic that she would find herself in one. Her utter rage still burned, but it was...far away, as if a blanket had been thrown over it and since she couldn’t see it, she couldn’t access it, couldn’t let it course through her veins to color her words and actions. Not when it came to Jax, at least. But fighting...that was something she’d done her entire life, something she’d never learned how to quit doing, even when it had been Montgomery looming over her, ready to strike a killing blow. She couldn’t fight Jax but...the vampire. There was still him, right? It had hurt last time, using her magic. And her arms weren’t up to par with hand to hand combat. Magic had always been the most effective for situations like this. She raised a hand to bite her thumb until it bled, magic piling up in her once more— she grit her teeth against the excruciating pain, not even realizing yet that it was draining her magic in the same breath. Reflexively, she swiped the blood against her arm. Nothing happened. She looked down, and she realized how stupid she’d been. Her summoning tattoos. They were gone, having peeled off with her skin. Fuck. She tried her best not to look at Jax, to ignore his questions and that shiny glow around him that made her want to please him, to make him happy. Again she yelled, loud and guttural as she reached for the magic she still barely understood, trying to bring the vampire to his knees. She felt like she was on fire as the bracelet sparked to life once more. If she could take one down, maybe they could find a way out of this? There had to be a way. There had to. She wouldn’t get her power taken away from her like it had been stolen with Montgomery. Not again. Not this soon. It worked, bridging the vampire to his knees as pain also erupted in his eyes. But it wasn’t enough. There was still Jax. Still the collar. Still the bracelet. And now her own knees were jelly, the bracelet having taken her magic from her. 

Remmy dropped from the vampires arms as he suddenly cried out in pain. Blood dripped from his eyes and he grabbed his head, screaming with his agony. But Remmy didn’t-- couldn’t-- move. Their limbs felt too heavy, their body too much. They looked up as they saw Nell collapse, too, to her knees. She was also bleeding, from her hand, on her arm. Remmy could smell it. “Nell, no,” they said weakly, reaching for her. “Nell, wait--” but it was no use. After a long moment, the vampire stopped screaming, and though his eyes still bled, he reached for them, kicking them, hard, before shoving their body through the door. Remmy coughed, sputtered, pain striking their stomach. “Wait, no, Nell-- wait. Wait! What are you-- where are you taking-- Nell!” they called out, trying to reach for her. But another push of a button, and their vision went black, and they slumped, unconscious for a moment, to the ground.

Jax frowned. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” He shook his head in disappointment. He had let her exhaust herself, let her use her magic, let her hurt herself. And when she was done, he tugged her back to her feet, no matter the weakness of her knees, and carried her out after Remmy, so she could watch. As the vampire dragged them away and towards the cages, he followed behind with Nell. Not too close, not too far. And when they reached the cages, he turned to the one across from Remmy’s and opened it, guiding Nell inside. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Nell,” he said firmly, before finally letting go and shutting the gate, “I really hope you have.”

The bracelet paired with Nell’s outburst of her magic was more than enough to have the world spinning, things making little sense as she felt Jax tug her upwards, even the pain of her arms feeling far away. Remmy...she was vaguely aware of her friend, and the fight that was still bubbling in her stomach despite being barely conscious. She had to get them out of this, they had to get to safety. But all too soon they were reaching the familiar cages beneath the ring, and Jax’s fuzzy words made their way to her before the gate closed behind him. Fuck you, she wanted to say, but her weaknes paired with the pheremones prevented any words from even beginning to fall from her. Powerless. Just as she’d been when Montgomery had been preparing to raise his blade. Not again, not now, not ever. But try as she might, and as stubborn as she was, her eyes drooped, closing as darkness took hold of her, passing out with a final thought. Exactly how were they going to get out of this?

[enkelimagnus]

Clary/Others, Clary/Jace, squint and you miss it Clary/Jace/Jonathan and Jace/Jonathan, Rated M, 1483 words

Criminals AU

Jace watched quietly as the blonde girl at the bar knocked back a glass of whiskey that would have made most of the men in the room tumble to the ground. He smirked. None of the big and loud businessmen knew that she could hold her alcohol better than the entire rest of the crowd combined. He saw her zero on their target for the night. --------------- Jonathan and Clary are on the prowl again, to get revenge on someone who has wrong them. Jace helps.

This was inspired by Dom Sherwood's appearance in Penny Dreadful City of Angels, as well as the photos of Luke Baines and Kat McNamara from the 2018 UNICEF Masquerade Ball. This involved murder and sexual content both implied and not. Title from Alice Cooper's I'm Your Gun. This fic is kinda dedicated to @shadowhuntersnonsense because of the... kinda everything? Big thanks to the ever lovely DarayFlair for help betaing this! Read on AO3

Jace watched quietly as the blonde girl at the bar knocked back a glass of whiskey that would have made most of the men in the room tumble to the ground. He smirked. None of the big and loud businessmen knew that she could hold her alcohol better than the entire rest of the crowd combined.

As always, it was almost pathetic to watch them believe her show of drunkenness. To watch their eyes get darker as she giggled and put her hands on their chest to steady herself, all 5 feet 5 of slim pale skin and blonde hair.

He saw her zero on their target for the night, a tall guy who could have been very handsome if he had drank less. His face was flushed and puffy. Nevertheless, this was not about attractiveness.

He thumbed over the bulk of the gun at his hip. The weight was almost comforting now. He couldn’t remember the last day he hadn’t worn it.

The girl stood up. She was wobbly on her legs, so much so that she ended up draping herself over the lap of the man she’d been eyeing. Jace smirked as she giggled loudly. Her hair fell over her bare shoulders as she shook her head, trying to express how sorry she was. Words were escaping her. She was rambling, her whispering voice slurred and too loud.

One day, there would be a man who didn’t fall for her little act. That day would probably be the biggest fight he would ever be in.

The man’s face was now pressed against the girl’s cleavage, the bustier neckline of her dress allowing him more than an eyeful. Her green eyes caught Jace’s from the other side of the room. Her grin went from hesitant and embarrassed to predatory.

Jace couldn’t help but smirk back at her.

Jonathan slid past Jace then, nodding at him. His eyes also shone with barely disguised pleasure as the trap closed around their prey. Jace felt a shudder run down his back. They seemed to be in a spectacular mood. If everything went well, tonight would be very enjoyable.

“Ready?” Jonathan asked as he stopped for a second next to Jace.

His hair was blonde too, they’d decided to both go blonde at the same time. It was slicked down and shiny with product. His suit was perfectly fitted to his slim form. The leather of the harness shone, polished and clean, when the lights of the lounge reflected on it and on the metal buckles.

Jace nodded quietly, a move so small Jonathan wouldn’t have seen it had he not been close enough for Jace to feel his breath on his cheek.

“Good,” Jonathan exhaled, before he pushed the door of the VIP room open and disappeared inside.

Jace forced himself not to watch the other man walk away, keeping himself as still and quiet as necessary. The least attention on him, the easier and cleaner this would be.

It was a bit of a useless rule, considering that the Morgensterns liked him in 1930s style suits with matching fedora hats, but… Who was he to disobey orders from them?

“Come on,” the girl’s voice resounded drunkenly in the smoke-filled lounge. “Let’s go to the VIP salon… I have something to show you, to thank you for helping me out…”

She winked at the man, failing to be discreet. He tried to refuse but she was tugging on his tie already, pulling him to her teasingly.

“I’m sure you can spare a moment…” She pouted before licking her lips suggestively. “I really want to say thank you…”

Jace could basically feel the cogs in the man’s head turning, arousal and alcohol completely dampening his sense of self-preservation. It was pathetic, and incredibly entertaining. The other men at the table mocked him, throwing jabs about his manliness out. How stupid of them. Did they know they were dooming their friend?

Finally, with claps and cheers of his friends, the man stood up. The girl's hand grabbed his, pulling him to her. She seemed to be muttering something, and that Jace couldn’t hear. He knew it was probably salacious, about the size of his dick or something.

Her other hand travelled down to his crotch and Jace hummed under his breath. He was right. He knew that little dance well enough. And he knew the way she liked to seduce men. She usually used the same techniques on him, despite him not needing her to do any of that to turn him on.

She pulled the man in Jace’s direction, towards the door to the VIP room. Jace was standing right next to it, slightly to its left. Her eyes were dark with lust and glee when she walked past him. Jace almost bit his lip. The ‘party’ afterwards would be so much fun.

The man she was dragging by the hand barely spared Jace a glance before the door slammed shut behind them. Jace tilted his head to the side, just a little. The tainted glass insert in the door was enough for him to see shapes and bodies. He was always in for a show with these men.

Black dress faded to blonde hair as the girl got on her knees in front of the man and unbuttoned his pants. Jace couldn’t see details but he knew exactly what she was doing. She started bobbing her head and he finally gave in and bit his lip. Watching her like this felt wrong. But then again, her brother was in the room, watching from a dark corner. The baseline for wrong in their little team was quite high.

She blew him for a while. He was lasting much longer than the usual ones, Jace noted. Eventually, he heard the telltale groan that came with an orgasm.

Jace moved seamlessly. He slid through the door that the girl had left unlocked, shutting it behind him.

The man looked at him with wide eyes. Jace flipped on the switch of the room’s main lamp . Golden light exploded in, casting away the shadows. And in the chair in the now lit room, eyes dark and trained on the red-faced man with his pants still down and his cock still out, was Jonathan Morgenstern.

The man’s eyes opened wider even, fear painted on his features.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered despite himself.

The girl laughed. Without her signature red hair, it was less easy to recognize her at first glance, it seemed, especially when inebriated. 

Now that she stood next to Jonathan, her identity was obvious to the man she’d just blown.

“How was he, sister?” Jonathan asked as Clary Morgenstern sat on his lap, sighing a little and licking the corners of her mouth, where semen had escaped.

“He was tasty enough, but not as good as our Jace,” she pouted. “Not enough to have it weigh in the balance of his fate.”

Jonathan nodded thoughtfully. “You heard my little sister, Walker. You didn’t please her enough.”

Walker was sweating. He was so afraid he wasn’t even thinking about his pants still being down. Pathetic.

Jonathan continued. “You also didn’t please me at all. My merchandise was once again confiscated by the authorities upon entering the docks. I thought you were handling that for us,” he said. His voice was cold.

Jace hoped to never find himself on the other side of that tone.

“I’m sorry, Mr Morgenstern,” Walker trembled. “It won’t happen again.”

Jonathan smirked at him. “No it won’t. We’re replacing you. We’ll make sure your wife knows you were fucking my sister’s mouth before you died. I think she’ll be very happy.”

The man opened his mouth to beg, but Jace was too fast. He grabbed his gun out of his holster, sliding it out from behind his coat and aimed between Walker’s eyes. He was an excellent shot, and at this distance. The bang resounded in Jace’s ears, followed by the crash of a dead body hitting the ground. It was a familiar sound.

Clary hopped from her brother’s lap, going to snuggle against Jace’s chest.

“You did so good, puppy,” she grinned at him. “We’re gonna have so much fun when we’re home.”

Jace put his gun away.

Jonathan nodded as he stood up from his chair and stretched out his arms slightly. “Let’s go,” he ordered. His tone was far less demanding than it had been with Walker. This softer voice was reserved for Clary and Jace. Jonathan’s hand reached up, resting on the back of Jace’s neck. The firm pressure made Jace’s nerves sing.

Oh yes. They were going to have so much fun when they were home. The three of them walked out, more or less intertwined. They didn’t care if someone was watching them.

They probably knew better than to keep the Morgensterns from walking out of their latest crime scene.

[grump-the-deer]

3, 8, 27, 30, 36, 45, 58, 64, and we all know the answer but 67

<3 <3 <3

3. How do they carry themselves around strangers? Friends/Lovers? Family?

You know this you dumbass. <3 Uh Silas is reserved but curious for the most part, but he has been a little more friendly lately with getting to know people, if even just to get something practical done. His family are basically strangers to him, although he acts far more stiff and closed-off due to the pressure they’ve put on him. As for friends/lovers, he’s definitely more open and laughs these days, makes wry jokes, is eager to help, etc. He’s more at ease by far with the people he cares about, though he never seems truly open.

8. What is something they cannot resist?

Making smart remarks. He’s the most judgmental, because of course he is. He is definitely going to be a know-it-all if he gets the chance - at least, most of the time.

27. If they were a ghost, how would they haunt in the afterlife? 

Oh, what a terribly sad ghost he would be. Filled with longing and always trailing after a lost lover. He wouldn’t leave it the fuck alone. He’d be a constant presence, but a silent one. More a sentinel than anything.

30. What never gets old for your character? Something your character can’t get enough of?

Despite his...attitude problems, he’s honestly big on challenges and games. He never seems to do very well, but he is almost always up for one just in case he gets to show off after all. A remnant of his past, I would say.

36. What makes them blush?

Attention. Especially anything sexual or romantic. FEELINGS? Never. He has zero idea how to respond when he’s on the spot, replying to unexpected flirting or anything of the sort. He’ll get awkward and have trouble speaking (for once).

45. What would they never forgive themselves for? 

He HASN’T forgiven himself for: letting someone die on his watch. Especially for him. He is doing everything in his power to keep it from happening again, even at the cost of his own life.

58. What’s a habit that needs to be broken?

His going off by himself when he thinks he can solve something better alone. He doesn’t tend to think of how others can contribute and instead wants to solve it on his own, so as to be competent as well as not be a burden to others.

64. - already answered c’:

67.  Which do they value more: Selflessness or Self-Preservation?

Deeeeefinitely selflessness. He’s a big proponent of jumping in the way of the death blow. He thinks he’s running on borrowed time he doesn’t deserve, and wants to make himself useful - especially if it means preserving the lives of others.