#most of these will only make sense to me but it's okay

[0cta9on]

Can you do a fluffy smut fic of IVE's Wonyoung? In the fic, she is madly in love with her older manager whom has been by her side since her trainee days and loved her like his own little sister. Then she heard about his decision to transfer to another agency and began to panic. She begged him not to leave and confessed to him. However, OC rejected her due to the fear of destroying their close bond. WY eventually succeed in reassuring him of her love and both of them ended up making out.(OC is 5-6 years older than WY, hence the brother-sister dynamic relationship)

For the past three years, you served as the manager for the girl group sensation IVE, and you’ve loved every single second of it. The girls are cute and almost immediately started treating you like an older brother, which you gladly accepted. You’ve been a shoulder for them to cry on when things get tough and thanks to the pretty decent Starship Entertainment check, you often bought them little treats to tide them over in between schedules. They were like your little family - six little sisters that you love like they’re your own blood. Unfortunately, you might be saying bye to your little family soon.

Your footsteps echo along the corridor of Starship’s building as you pace nervously back and forth. As your contract with the company runs out, others have been reaching out and offering manager positions to you. Nothing has interested you so far, mainly just offers from small companies looking for an experienced manager to take care of their rookie groups. That is, until this morning, when you received a ludicrous offer from a larger company that would set you up for the rest of your life. You would be a fool not to take it - but that would also mean leaving behind the girls you have cared for all these years. 

A sudden jab to the side of the ribs makes you jump. “Jesus Christ, what th-” You turn around to face the perpetrator, only to see Wonyoung laughing at you.

“You should see your face oppa, that was hilarious!” She exclaims. Normally, you would laugh along and scold her playfully, but the thought of having to break the news about your potential departure fills you with an overwhelming sense of dread.

“What’s wrong, oppa?” Wonyoung asks, noticing your uncharacteristically serious expression.

Out of all the girls, Wonyoung is the one you’ve known the longest. You first met her when she was preparing for Produce 48, and you watched her grow and mature ever since. To outsiders, she is the epitome of success, but you know better than anyone just how much pain she’s experienced to get to this level. With how strong your bond is, you can’t even imagine how much it would crush her to tell her that you’re leaving.

You relinquish a heavy sigh deep within your lungs. “L-look, I-” The words struggle to make themselves known, writhing inside your gut as you stare deep into Wonyoung’s concerned eyes. Without another thought, you pull her into a tight embrace, more for yourself than for her.

“Hey, it’s okay, oppa,” she soothes, rubbing your back. “You can tell me.”

You instinctively tighten your grip on her, afraid that this’ll be the last time you get to hold her like this. “I got an offer this morning… from another company. The salary they’re offering would help me out a lot, so I-”

“You’re leaving?!” Wonyoung pulls away slightly to look you in the eyes. It feels like a knife stabs you in the heart as you stare back at her teary gaze.

“Y-yeah, I am…” You utter regretfully. She fights back a sob as she hits your chest, hurting your soul more than it does your actual body.

“B-but you can’t leave!”

“I’m sorry, Wonyoung, but Starship-”

“Screw Starship! What about IVE? What about me?” Tears begin to flow uncontrollably down her cheeks. All those years of consoling her and being by her side, yet the one time she needs you the most is when you’re about to leave her. Being the cause of her tears hurts you more than you’ll ever know.

“Wonyoung, I-”

“I love you!” She exclaims, glaring through her misty eyes.

“I love you guys too, but-”

“NO!” Her voice echoes loudly through the corridor, pushing you back a few steps. Always the epitome of prim and proper, you have never seen Wonyoung scream like this. A deep, unspoken ache reflects in her eyes as you start putting the pieces together. 

“I-I… I love you… Like, really love you… I want to be with you a-and hold you tightly… I want to kiss you and feel like I’m the only woman for you… I-I just… I love you so, so much… You can’t leave me like this…”

You freeze in disbelief, unsure of what to think or feel about her sudden confession. You always made sure not to develop any feelings for the girls as that could end up badly for the both of you. However, you can’t deny that you’ve been seeing Wonyoung differently as of late. The way she carries herself with such professionalism and confidence, how hard she words behind the scenes for herself and for the rest of IVE, you can truly see just how beautiful of a person she is, both inside and out. Taking this job would be the chance of a lifetime, but a person like Wonyoung only comes around once in a lifetime. You would be a fool to let her go.

You gently cup her cheeks, wiping away her tears with your thumbs. “It’s okay, Wonyoung. I’m not going anywhere.” She breaks down and begins sobbing into your chest. Your mind suddenly feels lighter now that you’ve made up your mind. In fact, you almost feel ridiculous for almost choosing money over the family that you found three years ago.

“You’re really not going to leave?” Wonyoung asks you after calming down a bit. You shake your head, a hopeful smile growing on your face, before she wraps her arms around your head, pressing her lips against yours. Subconsciously, you have been waiting for this kiss for years and you aren’t about to let it go so easily. The scent of her strawberry shampoo combined with her soft, marshmallow lips brings you to a new high you’ve never experienced before.

As you break the kiss, the heartbroken girl is swiftly replaced by the bright and lovely Wonyoung that you’re used to. She giggles as you kiss her cheeks, getting rid of any leftover tears. Suddenly, Wonyoung takes your hand, a mischievous twinge in her eye further emphasized by an alluring bite in her lip.

“Since you’re not leaving anymore, I think we should celebrate. Come with me,” she says before dragging you along the corridor. She peeks through one of the doors before pulling you inside, locking the door behind her. As you look around the small room, you notice a bunch of foam padding lining the walls, along with a piano and a couple chairs.

“This is one of the solo vocal practice rooms,” she explains. “No one outside will be able to hear us, no matter how loud we are.” A lightbulb goes off in your head as you turn to her, both shocked and turned on. Wonyoung’s cheeks turn a light pink as you look her up and down.

“I-I mean, we don’t have to do it if you don’t want-” You stop her, bringing a finger to her lips.

“I want to do it. I want you,” you assure her. She smiles brightly as she pulls you in for another kiss, this one much steamier than the other. Your hands snake around her petite waist, bringing her as close as you physically can. Her gentle breath starts to get heavier, gracing your cheeks, and the warmth in your chest continues to grow until it threatens to burst from your skeleton. You want nothing more than to love this girl as much and as hard as you can, pushing her into the padded wall with the fervor of a new sun on an early morning.

Wonyoung strokes your cock over your jeans, teasing you with her fingertips. You respond in kind by grazing her thigh with your fingernails, causing her body to shiver beneath you. You break the kiss and rest your forehead against hers to catch your breath, the final look before the leap. She gazes at you with fondness and desire, and you feel lucky knowing you’re the only man that will ever receive that look from her. Tentatively, she unzips your pants, audibly gasping as she looks upon your cock for the first time, unintentionally inflating your ego. You watch with bated breath as Wonyoung kneels in front of you, slowly stroking you with her soft hands and placing gentle kisses along your length, staining it with her lip gloss.

“Does that feel good, oppa?” She asks, searching for approval.

“Yes, that feels so good, baby,” you moan, brushing your hands through her silky hair.

“Mmm, I like it when you call me baby. Keep saying it.” Wonyoung flashes you a smile before taking you into her mouth, making you shiver like the first time you step into a cold pool. Her thick, glossy lips eagerly sucking your cock combined with her big, round eyes looking up at you brings you to all new heights of arousal.

“Holy shit baby, you’re amazing,” you compliment. In response, Wonyoung plants her hands on your thighs, attempting to take your entire length down her throat at once, her gags filling the entire room. You almost feel bad for the people walking by who don’t get to hear this beautiful chorus reserved for you.

Eventually, Wonyoung stumbles backwards, choking for air as saliva drips down her chin. She reaches for your hand, and you gladly help her up, anticipating what will happen next. With a wink, she plants her hands against the wall, sticking her ass out towards you. Her warm yet seductive gaze pulls you in, promising a moment you’ll never forget.

“I’ve waited for this moment for so long,” she says, biting her lip. You flip up her skirt, revealing her cute ass for the first time, and peel off her damp panties. The scent of her dripping sex fills your brain, drawing you towards her even more. As you slowly insert yourself into her, you gauge Wonyoung’s reaction, making sure you’re not hurting her.

“Is that okay, baby?” You whisper into her ear. She nods, wincing slightly.

“S-so good, keep going.”

You hold onto her waist for support, eventually bottoming out inside of her. Her warm walls grasp you tightly, still adjusting to your size. After a moment, Wonyoung nods, prompting you to start thrusting into her. Slow yet firm at first, as her moans begin to escalate, you increase the power of your thrusts until it devolves into pure, unbridled pounding.

“A-ah! Yes! F-feels so g-good!” She groans in pleasure. “K-kiss me!”

You do as she says, capturing her lips into a sloppy kiss as you continue fucking her from behind. You exchange breaths, warming up each other’s skin, filling your nostrils with each other’s pheromones. In your mind, nothing else matters except making love to the woman before you. You want to spend the rest of your life loving her in every way you can, and when you’ve done it all, you want to invent new ways of loving just so you can show her how much she means to you. A familiar pressure begins to build up in your stomach as you gaze into Wonyoung’s eyes, half-lidded as she succumbs to your passion. You take her lips a final time before shooting your seed deep into her womb, cementing your bond forever. She follows soon after, nearly collapsing as her orgasm renders her legs into jelly.

“O-oh my god… That was better than I imagined,” she says. The two of you share a gentle laugh, holding onto her with no intention of letting her go ever again.

[suempu]

hiiii could you write some nsfw headcanons for chilchuck with a reader who’s insecure about their body?

gn + implied human! reader + kinda dominant chilly chuckles

<3

oh my, that man is not good with emotions. one of his flaws is that he’s kind of bad at dealing with them since they leave him in a vulnerable state. it was no secret that he’s emotionally constipated, his past wife left him because of that.

but ever since you came along, chilchuck has been slowly improving, not wanting a repeat of what happened. he’s acknowledged that by loving someone, he needs to be able to be open with his feelings and become mindful of yours.

once you work up the courage to tell him, he visibly stiffens up. chilchuck is silent for a few seconds, he really wasn’t expecting this while he was kissing you up.

he spends a few moments awkwardly fiddling with the buttons of his half done shirt as he thinks of the right words to say.

“…. i… don’t really care about what you look like.”

okay. he could’ve worded that better.

“i-i mean! i enjoy being with you… for who you are.”

chilchuck’s biting his lip, looking at you hesitantly as he reaches a hand out to you. he’s looking anxious before you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

he yelps as he’s tucked into your chest, letting out a sigh of relief that you don’t seem upset. you pull away and look down at him with a smile.

“you suck at this.”

“i know.” he sends you a grin.

placing one hand around you, he pushes you gently to sit on the bed. he stands in front of you and holds your face, nuzzling into your nose which brings a laugh out of you.

“i know i’m bad at… this kind of stuff but i meant what i said.” he looks at you seriously, big ears twitching as hair strands falls to his face, rough and messy after your heated lip-lock earlier.

“i’m nothing but an old, brooding man. i love the way you make me feel and i want… you to l-love how i make you feel…. regardless of what you look like.”

he can see how you’re biting back a snicker as he tries to get his act together. chilchuck can feel his face getting hotter as he hears your bubbling laughter. but he’s glad you’re less nervous as before.

“y-you think this is real funny, do ya?” he yells out.

he’s kinda grumpy after all that, feeling a bit embarrassed that you laughed at him. after a few kisses smothered on to his face, he slowly gets back into the mood, making sure to pay extra attention to your reactions.

if you ever cover yourself up, he will give you a peck while slowly taking your hands off and whispering reassuring phrases.

he will kiss down your body as he keeps his eyes on you, forcing you to watch him. when he finds out which part makes you insecure the most, chilchuck will leave open mouthed kisses and suck a hickey on it.

with his enhanced hearing and senses, your quiet whimpers and gasps gets him going as he touches and feels you thoroughly with his fingers.

since this is your first time being intimate together as a couple, he makes sure to treat you softly and gently. he’s attentive to the spots that make you moan out the most, notices how you grip the sheets harder when he licks and sucks on a certain area. all of them noted in his head so he can figure out what else you’ll like.

chilchuck groans breathily, he’s kind of ashamed to lose control of himself, thinking it’d only embarrass himself.

“am i not making you feel good..?”

“where did this come from?”

“you don’t… make as much noises as i do. i’m wondering if i’m not doing enough.”

once he hears your reason, he immediately rushes to assure you. though still a bit hesitant, he’ll try to let go more the next time you’ll get intimate.

can i just say he’s skilled at giving oral. his hands and fingers can take you to god and back once he finally finds out what specific things you like. he loves being all in there, loves your smell, your sounds, your fluids.

he doesn’t say it out loud though. which makes you wonder why he keeps asking if you could fuck his face whenever you two do it.

“is this some sort of kink of yours?”

“just say yes or no!”

after one round, he can get pretty spent. but if you’re still needy, he can muster some energy to make love to you slowly.

oh, and he lives for lazy morning sex. sometimes you’ll wake up to him kissing down your shoulder and arm, whispering small ‘wake up’s to your buzzing ears.

aftercare with him is… well, lazy too. he’ll drop to your side, breathless as he stares up at the ceiling. after a few moments he’ll sit up and look down at you on the bed, whispering sweet praises as he holds your face.

he’ll smoke for a bit, facing away from you. he doesn’t want you to cough from the smoke after all.

drags you to the bathroom after a few moments. he hates being sweaty and you’ll have to kill him before you force him to snuggle right after sex.

chilchuck just doesn’t like feeling gross, he’d want to be clean as soon as possible. he will fuss over you during bathing. divorced father of three but with the way he’s acting makes him look like a mother.

he will scrub you down to the bone but will be less aggressive if you tell him it makes you uncomfortable.

“put your clothes in the basket, dry your hair, make sure you brush your teeth properly.”

“i always do! follow your own advice, you alcoholic.”

“i will drown you in this tub.”

what a nice and loving man, am i right

after bath time, he’ll lay on his side with nothing on but some underwear. his arm is around your torso as you fall asleep while he watches you with a soft smile, fingers tracing soft shapes on to your skin.

8/10 for being emotionally constipated but an A+ for trying. (i’m kidding he’s great)

[a-killer-obsession]

Ritual [Sanji x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

“Do you want me to do the thing?” He whispered.

The ‘thing’ was a ritual you had formed after he'd discussed your painful menstruation with Chopper, desperate for a way to help you. The many desserts he'd lovingly make you could only help so much. Chopper had listed various things that would help the pain; anti-inflammatories, heat packs, orgasms, pressure, potassium. He'd said it so nonchalantly that Sanji almost missed it.

CW: menstruation, menstrual sex, embarrassment, shame, afab reader

WC: 1746

Masterlist || AO3

You didn't get your period every month, it was pretty irregular, but when it did happen it came hard and fast. The first two days at least usually left you bed ridden, writhing in pain. Sanji had been your official boyfriend for just over a year now, and was pretty familiar at this point with the effect your cycle had on you and the pain it caused you.  

You'd woken up with it today, it'd come without warning and you felt the cold, damp blood that soaked the sheet as you rolled over, groaning at the knife in your abdomen. Sanji heard you groan, and wrapped an arm around you. 

“Everything okay?” He asked you gently. 

“No,” you told him, flinging his arm off, climbing out of the bed, “I've ruined the sheets again.”

He lifted the blanket and saw the small blood stain. It really wasn't as bad as you thought, but you were embarrassed and smacked his hand away from the blanket. “Don't look at it!” You growled. 

“There's nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, climbing out of bed and stripping the sheet, while you stood covering your quickly reddening face with your hands. “It's fine baby, I'll take care of it,” he said, balling the sheet up in his hands.

You tried to take it from him, but he wouldn't let you. No matter how many times you had your period around him he couldn't convince you that it was nothing to be embarrassed about. He truly did not mind, as long as you weren't actually hurt he was fine seeing your blood. But you were overcome with shame every time it came around, the sense that it was taboo deeply ingrained in you. 

He took your hand gently, pulling it from your face, and replaced it with his own, cupping your cheek. “Does it hurt badly?” He asked, full of concern. 

“Yeah..” you replied, closing your eyes and putting your hand over his, holding it to your cheek. He pulled you close into a hug. 

“Do you want me to do the thing?” He whispered. 

The ‘thing’ was a ritual you had formed after he'd discussed your painful menstruation with Chopper, desperate for a way to help you. The many desserts he'd lovingly make you could only help so much. Chopper had listed various things that would help the pain; anti-inflammatories, heat packs, orgasms, pressure, potassium. He'd said it so nonchalantly that Sanji almost missed it. 

It'd been hard to convince you the first time, but after he'd done it you found your cramps significantly lessened. As embarrassed as you were, you knew it was the most effective pain reliever you had available. 

You sighed, knowing that it was what you needed, even if it was hard to admit. You were still timid about it. You realized Sanji didn't mind the blood, but you minded, so he'd found a way to help you that made you the most comfortable and made you feel the most like he couldn't see anything.  

You nodded against his chest, and he hugged you a little harder, before letting go of you slowly to find you a clean set of clothes. He found you a comfortable tshirt, and dark sweatpants. He picked out dark, very unsexy, panties. He knew at this point what kind of clothes you wanted when you were on your cycle. 

He picked up his dirty, long sleeved shirt that he'd thrown on the floor the night before, and wrapped it around your waist so nobody would see the blood on your pajama pants if you happened to pass anyone in the hall. Finally he took your hand and gently led you to the bathroom. 

You both knew the routine well at this point, the one that made you feel the most comfortable. He locked the door behind you, placed your clothes on the vanity, turned on the shower to an appropriate temperature, then turned to face the wall so he couldn't see you. You quickly removed your clothes, piling them in the corner and hiding your blood soaked panties and pants under your shirt, then you stepped into the shower. 

You rinsed away the blood from your rump and thighs, and tried to clean between your legs. Sanji didn't move from his spot until he heard the shower head being put back in its holder. He quickly discarded his pajamas and slid into the shower with you. 

He knew he wasn't allowed to touch anywhere below your waist except to do what he needed to do, so instead he just kissed you softly. You didn't need to be warmed-up, due to your condition, so he didn't need to worry about that, but he wanted to make you feel good anyway so he took your breasts in his hands and fondled them gently, playing with your nipples till he elicit a small moan from you. 

At the same time his own arousal was growing, but considering the speed of things he did still need a little help, so you reached down and stroked him gently, feeling him harden in your hand. He moaned into your mouth as you touched him, you'd been together for long enough now to know what he liked best, not that it was ever difficult to please Sanji. 

You didn't like to wait too long though, you wanted to be done with it, and your body cried out in pain, desperately needing the relief he could give you. You pulled away from him as soon as you felt he was hard enough. He knew this was his signal to do his work. 

“Front or back?” He asked you.

“Back,” you replied, turning and leaning against the wall, arching your back for him. 

He wasted no time in sliding up behind you, aligning himself with your entrance. “Okay?” he asked you. 

“Mmmhmm,” you replied. 

He held your hip gently with his free hand as he slowly entered you. He was careful to allow you time to adjust, patiently gliding in to you. You moaned softly as he finished working his way in, and he kissed you lovingly on the shoulder. You reached back and grabbed his hips, holding him still for a moment while you quietly acclimated to the fullness. When you were ready you let go, and he slowly began to pump in to you. 

He grunted quietly as he moved and you moaned at the erotic sounds he was making. He slowly increased his pace bit by bit. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder as he fucked you, and you felt the way his love radiated to you. Suddenly you felt less embarrassed, taking comfort in the way he wanted you unconditionally, and the dedication he took in making you feel safe and secure. 

“Sanji,” you whispered, “front…” 

He was surprised, you'd never asked to change position during this ritual, and it was rare for you to want to face him at all while you were like this. But you needed to see his face, you needed to look in to his eyes. He pulled out of you without question so you could turn around, and you quickly connected his lips with yours. He pressed you again the wall and lifted one of your legs, sliding back inside you. You moaned in to this mouth and ran your hands through the hair on the back of his head. 

You forgot about your pain and your shame, consumed by him. He felt the way your need for him grew, and he groaned against your tongue as he lifted your other leg. You wrapped them around him as he pinned you to the wall, fucking you harder. One arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other reaching up to find support on anything you could, sliding helplessly against the wall as he thrust in to you. 

He broke the kiss, panting hard, desperately kissing and sucking at your neck, grunting against your skin as you moaned loudly. You'd never been this feral and wanting during the ritual, usually it was a quick in and out. You were desperate for him, crying out his name, pulling at his hair and scratching his back. 

Your first orgasm came on hard, squeezing around him and crying in to his shoulder with pleasure. He didn't stop even for a second, relentless in his pursuit of your high. He relished the way you called out his name, the sweet moans you made as your pussy gripped his cock. 

Taken by the fever you'd set in him, he bit your neck, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to hurt a little, and you cried out. It hurt, definitely, but it was also incredibly arousing. You dug your nails in to his back, returning the favour, and he moaned against your neck, vibrating the delicate area he had bitten. 

He kissed and sucked at your neck and your jaw, gripping your thighs tight where he held you against the wall, plunging in to you as hard as he could. You walls tightened around him again as your second climax came, and you cried out for him, as his face pressed against your shoulder and he came with you, both shaking uncontrollably. 

He put you back down, his cock no longer inside you but still held between your thighs. He lent against the shower wall, his arms either side of you, breathing heavy. You wrapped your arms around his waist, trying to keep yourself upright. 

He looked at you and all you saw in his eyes was pure love. You kissed him tenderly, cupping his cheek with your hand, stroking it gently with your thumb. When you pulled away he sighed. 

The pain in your abdomen had left, the endorphins released by your orgasms acting as a natural pain relief, and your muscles spasming in the throes of lovemaking having helped relieve some of the pressure from inside you. 

“Better?” he asked you, his arms slipping around you and holding you tight.

You replied with a content cooing as you closed your eyes, and he smiled at you, relieved to have been able to help you. You stayed wrapped in his arms for a while, the water from the shower washed over you both and cleared away any mess. Neither of you moved till the shower ran cold. Even then you refused to move, not wanting the heat of his skin against yours to ever leave. 

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Six

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. More angst, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader, a little bit of Cassian x Reader

Summary: You go to Rita's with the IC and try to make Az jealous.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four - Five

Mor picked out a dark violet shirt that cut low to your chest and tight to your waist, with black pants that flare at the bottom. You paired with sensible black boots because you refused to wear the heels she offered.

Still, you had to admit that Mor had exquisite taste when it came to clothing. And you looked good.

You let half your hair down, soft curls falling from whatever Mor put in your hair earlier, and the other half was braided back.

If Azriel didn’t talk to you after tonight, you would be okay with not speaking with him either. No matter the almost constant tug to gain his attention when he was around you. Or your shadows whispering “Go to Him” every single time he was in the House.

You didn’t want to go to him. He didn’t want anything to do with you. So you would go out with your friends, and Azriel, tonight and then settle on what to do about your internal feelings after that. After you got very very drunk. Especially if you would have to deal with hateful Illyrians for the next two weeks. The only one you liked being Cassian, who was probably the complete opposite of hateful. He would probably be preoccupied with said hateful Illyrians.

Since you didn’t want to risk your outfit or hair getting ruined by the wind, you flew Mor up past the wards of the House and let her winnow you both to Rita’s. You could hear the music playing as you waited for the rest of them to get here. Mor tugged you inside before they arrived.

“Cassian mentioned what you said about Azriel to him.” She said as she made her way over to a booth in the corner.

“You should know, he often doesn’t warm up to those he doesn’t know… even more so than before.” She said. “So if he doesn’t speak to you, that might be why.”

“You know, it doesn’t bother me.” It definitely did. “And I couldn’t care less if he warms up to me or not.” You could. You could care a LOT less. “I’d just like some basic decency.” That was true.

“Just give him more of a chance. And you’ll see…” she trailed off before noticing the rest of her family entering through the doors.

“You don’t even have drinks yet?” Cassian grumbled and made his way over to the bar, pulling Azriel with him to get the table drinks.

“I’d say we’re evenly fit this evening. Three males and three females. Who gets to dance with Amren?” Mor joked as the two winged males came back with drinks.

“You’d all be lucky to dance with me.” She said and took the one cup that wasn’t made of glass. You could smell the blood from the other side of the table. Rhys mentioned that the owner tended to have Amren’s favorite ‘meal’ most times that they came.

Averting your eyes, you took a glass from Cassian and looked towards where some of the other patrons were dancing. “Do no other Illyrians live here?” You asked and turned towards the table. “We’re the only three with wings.” I said.

“It’s still a secret to everyone, even the Illyrians. They all think we live in the palace in Hewn City.” Rhys said. “And the Court of Nightmares doesn’t care where we go when we aren’t in the palace.” He said and smiled a bit.

“Right, I suppose that makes sense.” You said and sipped on your drink, smiling when the table erupted in conversation. Eventually, Mor pulled you up to dance and you laughed. You weren’t much of a dancer, and you certainly knew that you looked ridiculous. But you were here to have fun tonight. So, wings tucked in, and shadows swirling around you as you swayed, that’s what you did. Mor and you made your way further into the crowd, finding your own companions to dance with. Cassian eventually joined in and stole both of you away to dance, and also gave you more drinks.

All the while, Azriel was sulking in the booth, watching the two females he couldn’t express his feelings to have a good time. With his brother. Rhys got up and grabbed Azriel by the elbow. “You don’t get to brood. Come on, we’re all having fun tonight. Even Amren’s dancing.” He said and pulled Azriel out of the booth.

“I’m not brooding,” Azriel mumbled, his eyes drifting over to you as you danced beside Cassian. “I’m just not in the mood to dance.” He said.

“Because you’ve got an itch that you refuse to scratch?” Rhys teased and nudged him towards the dance floor. “Talk to her. Or someone. Just don’t bring our mood down… if you don’t say something soon, she might go home with someone else.” He said before he waved a hand, joined the others, and grabbed Mor’s hand to twirl her around.

Cassian slung his arm around your shoulders and leaned down. “You want to make the other Shadowsinger jealous?” He murmured in your ear. You turned towards him. If anyone outside the Inner Circle would look at you, they’d think you were together.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked and trailed your fingers slowly up his arm, resting it on his shoulder.

“Hmm… can I trust you to follow my lead?” He asked and glanced over to the band, nodding his head. Like they knew exactly what he was planning.

“I suppose…” You said with a small smirk.

And just like that, Cassian had his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. He had a good few inches on you, just a few short of a foot. The way his hands roamed your body made you second guessing if he was actually trying to make Azriel jealous, or was just trying to seduce you. You liked Cassian, but he was much more of a big brother type than anything else.

Still, you swayed your body to the music, hands going over his biceps, shoulders, and up to his hair. You made sure you kept on a sultry smirk, and looked him dead in the eyes. It was a mischievous look to him, but to anyone else it would look like lust. To the other Shadowsinger, hopefully.

And you kept at it, messing with each other all night as you downed drink after drink. Eventually, you leaned against Cassian, more because you couldn’t exactly stand upright than because you were trying to be close to him.

You’d gotten so caught up in your scheme you didn’t see Azriel storm off about an hour earlier. He most certainly did not have a good time tonight watching you practically mount his brother. The one that every woman he liked chose over him. 

Of course, you also didn’t notice he was gone. While you stumbled your way up the town home walkway into the home itself with Cass, Rhys, and Mor, it was the latter who brought up the brooding male.

“Where’s Az?” She said and looked over her shoulder.

“Left a while ago.” Rhys merely drawled as he stumbled in the house, then winnowed up to his own bedroom.

“Of course.” You mumbled as Cassian let you go so you could crash on the couch. “I don’t think our plan worked.” You said, taking a glass of water that appeared on the table.

“Plan? You two weren’t trying to grope each other all night because you wanted in the other’s pants?” Mor asked, slumping against the chair.

“No. Azriel doesn’t want to talk to me so I wanted to show him what he was missing.” You said, leaning your head back on the arm of the couch. 

“I think we did too good of a job… Az might get a little jealous, but I should’ve remembered that when it comes to me… it tends to dig deeper.” Cassian said and looked at Mor.

“If he’s here in the morning, I’m going to say something. I think. I might have a horrible headache and not get out of bed till noon… also… where is my bed? I haven’t slept here.” You said and sat up, the living room spinning for a few moments.

“Come on,” Cassian said and stood up, holding out his arm for you to take. You stood up, bracing yourself with his arm as you did. You let out a giggle when he picked you up over his shoulder.

“Cass!” You squealed.

“You can’t walk, you can barely stand.” He said, swaying himself as he made his way up the stairs.

“If you drop me, I’ll gut you.” You said and let him carry you up the stairs, your head still spinning.

“If you vomit on me, I’ll gut you.” He teased back. You looked up and could see Mor trailing behind you, laughing as you exchanged retorts.

It wasn’t every day that someone new was accepted into their group. But here you were, bantering with Cassian as if you’d been a part of their family for years. She knew that you’d been a support for Rhys when he was Under the Mountain, so maybe you had been a part of the family longer than she had thought. They just didn’t know it until now.

And Mor liked you. She could also sense Azriel’s shift from longing after her to you. It was odd. Not having to have Cassian act as a buffer between her and Az because she couldn’t muster courage to tell him the truth. To let him down. But now maybe this would change that. Maybe she could finally tell them.

Unless Azriel didn’t move, unless he kept avoiding you. She would have to talk to him. See what was going on in that shadowy mind of his. Ask why he’s been ignoring you when you seemed so right for him. If the shadows didn’t swirl around you, if you didn’t disappear in the dark just as Azriel did, she wouldn’t think you were a Shadowsinger. After the first week of you being brought here, you were bright. You had such a new view on things, wanting to learn more about what you’d been sheltered from your whole life. Every time you came from training with Cassian, your smile was bigger. And Mor admired it. She knew you’d been through so much, much more than Mor felt like she’s been through herself, but you were still so happy to have this new life. If you weren’t, Mor couldn’t tell.

It was for that reason that Mor thought you were perfect for Azriel. You were strong, and everything that’s been thrown at you has only made you stronger. Azriel needed that. He’s gotten through so much, from his childhood to the Illyrian training to the war. But he sulks in his shadows, where you shine in them. Mor knew he needed someone who could pull him out and make him see that there was more to this life than just pain and suffering. You could give that to them.

Maybe you would really talk to him tomorrow before you left for Windhaven. Or maybe you’d start ignoring him and bound the two of you to years of pining without actually doing anything. Mor hoped that wasn’t the case. She didn’t want to see Azriel go further into the shadows and avoid the female he cares about again. And she didn’t want that for you either. You both deserved to be happy. Hopefully together. 

The next morning you woke up, your mouth laden with dryness and your head pounding. You had to go to Windhaven this afternoon. If it was even still the morning. You turned in your bed, groaning at the light. Your shadows immediately covered the open window when you flicked your hand towards it. Being a hungover Shadowsinger had its perks. 

How did you even get into this bed? You were in the town home, which surprised you since you’d never spent a night here. You’d barely had dinner here yet. And when did you change into a nightgown? You never wore nightgowns. 

“You got that from me,” you heard from the door, groaning as light poured in. You went to move your shadows but stopped when you saw Mor. “I gave you the nightgown last night. You changed rather quickly before passing out on the bed. You still had your boots on.” She said and smiled. “Come on, we’ve got a tonic that’ll make you feel better in an hour. You need food too.” She said and new clothes appeared on the dresser. 

“Ten minutes. Azriel’s downstairs, so prepare yourself for that.” She said before turning and shutting the door. 

You sighed and rolled out of your bed, drinking the water that appeared at your night stand. You stretched out your wings as well as your body, and then went into the bathing room to freshen up. Once you had changed and put your hair in a loose braid, you padded down the stairs. The shadows and lightness of your feet covering you when you entered the room. Azriel’s eyes were on you immediately, though no one else seemed to notice your presence yet. 

“Have a fun night with the commander?” He snapped and heat rose to your neck. Who did he think he was to ask about your night? He was the one who left and didn’t do anything about it! 

Deciding to push your anger (and pettiness) aside, you gave him a sly smirk. “I had a fun night with my friends. Not that you came close enough to experience it.” You said, sliding into a chair next to Rhys. 

Azriel looked at you for a few moments before you heard a near whisper of a growl from his throat. 

“Play nice,” Rhys warned, looking over to Azriel. 

You took the tonic that appeared in front of you so you could get rid of the pounding in your head. Your shadows might have been swirling around your eyes just to keep the sun from hitting you too brightly. 

“When do we leave for Windhaven?” You asked after downing the tonic, then dug into the breakfast in front of you. Everyone was at the table today. You realized this was the first morning you’d spent at the town home. And you liked it. 

“At noon. And we’ll work on your training once we’re there. It’ll be good for the females to see you do well. And for the males to understand that females can do good as well.” Cassian answered. 

You hummed and listened to the rest of them fall into conversation. You glanced over to Rhys and frowned, seeing his eyes glow with what looked like agony. You lowered your shields enough to speak to him. 

“I know you’re listening. What’s wrong?” You asked mind to mind, keeping your eyes on your food. You felt him glance over to you for a moment before his eyes went to where he was looking before. 

“Something’s come up in the Spring Court. Something is wrong with Feyre.” He answered and you hid your frown as you took a sip of water. 

“Wrong? She’s gone through hell and she’s a newly anointed High Fae. Is she okay? Hurt?” You tried to calm him, but your shadows whispered to you that he was worried. You never understood how they could tell a person's emotions. Sometimes they couldn’t, but if it was strong enough, you supposed they could sense it. 

“Hurting. And Tamlin is letting her waste away.” He trailed off and then cleared his throat before joining in on the conversation in front of him. 

If you had the abilities that Azriel had, you would send your shadows to check on her. Tell them to report back to see if she was okay. But they couldn’t go as far as the Spring Court. They couldn’t even go as far as Illyria. 

Of course, under Amarantha, you winnowed anywhere you needed to. The villagers or enemies knew you well enough by the shadows to determine who you were. And what you needed to know. 

You were never very good at getting information out of the villagers, but a lot of them were so afraid of the stories that spread of you they gave it up immediately. You hated that you were so feared that they didn’t even try to lie to you. Like you had Rhy’s ability to destroy their minds. Your shadows could only tell you so much… and when they didn’t tell you enough, Amarantha made you torture them. That’s where the stories came from. That’s what most of your nightmares were rooted in too. 

So you could only hope that one day, Azriel would teach you how to use your shadows properly. Maybe you could learn how to use them for good. And not for spying. Not for torture. For helping people. 

For so many years, they were used to help you survive with loneliness. And then to help you and your family survive Amarantha… But now both of those things were drifting away and you were afraid that your shadows soon would too. They would leave you because you no longer needed them. Or at least, that’s what you were afraid of. They were a comfort you didn’t think you ever wanted to let go of. You hoped that you never had to. All the books you found about Shadowsinger, none of them helped you understand your powers more. That’s why you wanted to talk to Azriel. Wanted to train with him. He had a grip on them much more than you did. 

Soon enough your headache was gone and you were in your leathers, a large coat over back covered the top. It was from Mor, who said you would need it. Even if the early winter was still mild in Velaris, it was going to be worse in Illyria. 

You knew that, of course, but you took the coat anyway. You knew it would be helpful. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, protesting when Rhys took it and put it in that pocket between realms. 

“I can take my own stuff.” You said and nudged him. He gave you a sly smile and shrugged. 

“You don’t have to. Plus, you’ll be visiting Lord Devlon first. You don’t need the bag with you.” He said simply. 

“Is Azriel going to grace us with his presence at all while we are in Windhaven?” You asked, looking at Rhys. 

Rhys gave you something reminiscent of a sad smile, if he didn’t have a scheming glint in his violet eyes. “Maybe, but probably not.” He said. “I do have him doing his spying. He’s been in Velaris for 50 years. He’s got a few things needing to be reestablished.” He said. 

You hummed and spotted Cassian standing at the door talking to Mor. “You really trust me enough to go there?” You asked. “And be an emissary? What if I’m horrible?” You asked. 

“There is no doubt in my mind that you are capable of handing every male in that camp their asses.” Rhys winked. “And you’re a Shadowsinger. Devlon might even be upset that I didn’t send you right to him to train… but you won’t be training there. Not unless you want to.” He said. 

You snorted. “Gods no… I’m going to be miserable enough training there when I’m with Cass… without him, I don’t know what I’d do.” You said and spotted at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Rhys. “Thanks for believing in me.” You said. 

“Thank you for believing in me. Not many people will understand your allegiance with me.” He said. 

“Damn them, then,” You said. “You’re the only High Lord I know that truly did everything he could to help his people. And I don’t know what they were like before the war, but the news ones… they are nothing like you, Rhysand.” You said and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “They’ll never even reach the level of respect I have for you.” You said and smiled before stepping back. 

“Alright, Cass, let’s get going before I change my mind.” You said and held out your hand for Mor to take. You weren’t entirely sure where Windhaven was, so Mor would winnow you there first. 

“See you in two weeks, my Lord.” You teased and shot Rhys a wink before Mor winnowed you and Cassian to Windhaven.

A/N: I like this chapter a lot, other than Az being stupid and not saying anything. But alas, we need the angst...

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The Veil Whisperer | Azriel x Reader (2)

Summary: The High Lord and his Spymaster have a meeting with The Veil Whisperer. It does not end the way anyone expects.

Themes: Love/hate relationship, enemies to lovers kinda

Warnings: CC3 Spoilers, mentions of child abuse. If I have missed any, let me know.

Just a quick note. Abhartach is mentioned as 'Avertock', That will make sense in the story.

Words: 4979

Read Part One Here

A mix of amber and lavender incense swirled delicately into the air, hazing the room. Through the mist, Azriel could see what looked like various shrines and altars staged in different parts of the room; each seemingly signifying something different. One had various gold coins coupled with a mug full of... something, surrounded by rocks? Another consisted of feathers and skulls, of which Azriel quickly looked away from what was quite obviously some sort of omen of death. He landed on another which had some of the most intricate tools he had seen, he would think they were beautiful if the whole thing didn't make him so uncomfortable. A large, open fire sat in the middle of the room. The heat offered some semblance of comfort to Azriel when the rest of the room sent shivers creeping down his spine. There were other rooms and he was glad he could not see into them, only The Mother knows what lurked behind those doors and he hoped it would stay that way. Though nothing drew more attention than the woman sitting quietly, brewing a pot of tea over the aforementioned flames.

"High Lord of Night and his Spymaster... what could possibly be so important that you both show up together?" She spoke, though a knowing glint was obvious in her eyes which was accompanied by a feline smirk. Azriel and Rhysand glanced at each other, both arching one eyebrow that turned the Veil Whisperer's smirk into a grin. "Now, now boys. Come sit and have a cup of tea." To anyone who was unaware, this would appear like a kind gesture between friends. Azriel and Rhys knew better than to argue. They had walked themselves right into the centre of her web, so they had to tread lightly. Both males sat quietly, watching the Veil Whisperer from across the fire. Watched as she poured the tea into three cups, her face remained on the pot, not yet having looked either male in the eyes. Azriel looked at Rhys once again, who was sat stock-still and watched the female's every move. Azriel was sure he was preparing to be tricked, like he was previously. So was he, if Azriel was being honest. This female was one of the least trustworthy fae he knew. He was sure the humans based their ideas of trials and trickery about their kind on this female.

"We have come with a request," Rhys spoke, the cool voice of a High Lord rang through Azriel's ears.

"Obviously," the female cut in, her eyes focused on the cup in her hands looking wholly bored. Azriel refrained from rudeness by taking a sip from his cup. He swirled it around in his mouth for a moment. Floral, bitter with a hint of lemon. It's fine, no poison, Azriel projected and not a moment later, Rhys also sipped his tea. A short breath snorted from the Veil Whisperer, as if she heard Azriel's thought. Rhys has assured him she was not daemati, though there was no telling what other talents she possessed. "I'm not going to poison you... again. Especially when I have drank from the same pot."

"We need your help locating something," Rhysand spoke again.

"And would it have anything to do with the world-walker that entered Prythian some weeks ago?" The Veil Whisperer queried as though she was asking about the weather.

If Azriel wasn't so good at his job, he was sure his shock would have been audible. The same could be said for his High Lord, although he was a bit less talented at hiding his reaction. Rhysand's jaw clenched and his lips thinned into a firm line. He pushed a sigh through his nose and rolled is eyes slightly, "Okay, so instead of playing your little games, how about you tell us what you know then."

A toothy grin paired with a soft laugh erupted from the Veil Whisperer. Finally her eyes lifted from her cup and straight into Rhys's. Azriel couldn't deny her strange allure, how different her beauty was from what they were used to in Prythian. The fine-line tattoos that decorated her face along with the strange decorations in her hair and ears interested Azriel to no end and he found himself studying her instead of paying attention. It was unsettling really, Azriel found himself being more wary than he was usually. He felt as though he was being walked into the trap of her beauty like it was inviting him to let his guard down and end up the worse of it. Azriel took another sip of his tea and allowed the blend to bring him back to reality. He focused once again, this time with self-annoyance rippling through his body. The Shadowsinger had fallen for the first trick of the Veil Whisperer and that was her beauty. She was currently staring Rhys down, examining him as though he was an experiment. Rhysand held her gaze but nonchalantly drank from his cup.

"A world-walker entered this land three times in close succession some weeks ago, there was a large release of power on the first visit and they departed soon after. A couple of days later, the fabric of this world was opened again by the same individual and very soon after, they entered and left again," The Veil Whisperer drawled, her hands animating the scene dramatically.

"Not interesting enough for you to come sniffing if you could sense it then?" Rhys sniped, while placing his cup on its accompanying saucer.

Seriousness settled on the female's face. "I do not go looking for trouble... especially where world-walkers are concerned." Azriel felt uneasy. The same uneasiness he felt when Bryce landed in front of his feet. For someone as renowned as the Veil Whisperer to be cautious of a world-walker proved that they were up shit creek.

"Have you ever come across another?" Azriel found himself asking before he had a chance to stop himself. He blamed his spymaster tendencies for that, always prodding for the whole truth.

The Veil Whisperer's gaze rolled over to Azriel and the Illyrian found himself bracing before her clear scrutiny. "I have not... well not through an event as large as this one." She stated and returned her attention to the High Lord. He stopped himself from demanding her to explain herself, more so when he saw that Rhys seemed to know what she was talking about. "Though we are veering off track. What do you want and how does it involve a world-walker," The Veil Whisperer almost snapped.

"The world-walker caused a release of power, like you said," Rhys began and the female beckoned him to continue impatiently. "That release of power occurred on a part of my land that you may be familiar with... The Prison." The inner circle had discussed on the best call to action for this conversation. They toyed with the idea of Rhys appearing like he does to the Hewn City, or an indifferent force of nature like he is in front of his fellow High Lords. Though they decided for him to be respectful, yet demanding. 'Beggars cannot be choosers, boy,' Amren had advised.

A hard look settled over the Veil Whisperer's face, her tattooed fingers tightened around her cup. "What of it?"

"The world-walker caused... structural changes to the Prison and-"

"And one of its inhabitants has gotten free and you need help finding it?" She butt in, annoyance building in her tone.

"Yes."

"Who or what has gotten loose?" She pinched her the bridge of her nose.

"The Abhartach..." Rhys spoke cautiously.

The Veil Whisperer's head shot up from her cup with a vicious glare. "Of all things," She gritted her teeth. "Why must you need my help? Can your dog sitting next to you not perform his duties? Or your creepy second in command?"

"You will not speak ill of my inner circle," The High Lord ordered, balling his hands into fists.

"It is not ill-spoken if it is truth, Rhysand." Impertinence rippled off the female in waves. "How long have you been looking?"

"Roughly five weeks," Azriel answered, his ego bruising.

"Any victims?"

"None that we have been able to unveil."

The Veil Whisperer threw her eyes to the ceiling, muttering a swear to some deity that neither male knew of, or cared to know of for that matter. "What do you know of the Abhartach?"

"It is a blood sucking demon, from what I have read, that was captured and imprisoned long before even my great-grandfather walked the land," The High Lord answered, rubbing his hands on his pants.

A humourless chuckle filled the space, "It is not just a blood sucking demon. It is of an age where people with my abilities were the only magical inhabitants, from what my mother told me," The Veil Whisperer began with a flicker of emotion in her eyes. "Its kind was highly intelligent. It can appear as human, fae, beast, whatever animal it likes to draw its prey in. Some of my ancient scrolls talk of a time where there was a local population of them here, and more dotted across the continent. They do not die of age, hunger, thirst, illness. They are beings frozen in time, their very blood runs cold."

Azriel felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise at her description of the Abhartach... it was more information than he, or anyone else for that matter, had been able to gather through their own fae history and books. This female before him seemed to have a completely different impression of the history in these lands that also seemed to run deeper than he could conceive. The spymaster ignored the unsettling of his stomach at how eerily similar this demon sounded to the high fae. The Veil Whisperer looked at Azriel, as if sensing his train of thought.

"Their main goal is blood, that is how they sustain themselves as I'm sure you're aware. For no victims of The Abhartach to have been discovered after an untold term of imprisonment does not bode well... my manuscripts and history only tells me so much about it... but they always spoke of the bloodlust..." She seemed to say more so to herself than Azriel and Rhys.

"So what you're telling me is that because there has seemingly been no attacks, that there is something else at play," Rhys stated.

"I do not know what I'm telling you, High Lord. Only that it is acting out of turn of its documented behaviours. Regardless, this is technically none of my business." The Veil Whisperer settled back into her mask of arrogance.

"What price will make it your business?" Rhys asked. Azriel now knew that this female was their only chance at catching their escapee. Her knowledge of it far surpassed their own, which he was sure she knew, and that meant she could ask for whatever she wanted and they would have to oblige.

The Veil Whisperer stood and rounded the large hearth, her cup in hand. She halted between to two males, looking down at them with an unforgiving expression. Her eyes burned holes through both of them. The Veil Whisperer tore her gaze from them, and stared into the bottom of her cup. A displeased hum. "It's a goat," She muttered. Both males furrowed their brows, each looking to the other with puzzlement. They watched as she set her cup down and picked up the cups that the males had been drinking from. "You have the scales," She muttered again and met eyes with Azriel. "And you have a unicorn, High Lord."

"Excuse me?" Rhysand almost spat. Azriel felt his heckles rising, he did not enjoy the idea of being part of some... ritual.

"It is a mythical creature written in my culture... it is depicted in the leaves of your tea, Rhysand." The female lowered the cup to Rhys and Azriel could see the shape of a horse with a horn? "Each one of the depictions in our respective cups are bad omens... so I must decline your request. You may take your leave. It has always been a pleasure."

"You're rejecting our plea for help to catch a blood sucking demon because of tea leaves?" Azriel questioned incredulously.

The Veil Whispered sauntered back to her chair, "Yes, Shadowsinger," She answered as though he was a child. "These omens are rarely incorrect so I heed their warning."

Azriel glanced at his brother, who seemed to be searching inwardly for a way to convince The Veil Whisperer. "Is there truly no way to convince you? I'm willing to meet any of your demands." The feeling of Rhysand's almost begging churned Azriel's stomach.

"If our paths are truly meant to cross on this journey, High Lord, then they will in some other way. You cannot buy my participation this time. This is no easy task, not one bought."

Azriel could feel his temper begin to simmer below the surface. This female spoke in riddles and bullshit. He felt himself wanting to shout and demand that she helps, for she knew they were at a loss — that he was at a loss. Don’t, Rhys spoke into his mind, We will figure something else out. Azriel shot his brother a look to say ‘How?’ to which Rhysand ignored. When Azriel looked back to The Veil Whisperer, she seemed to be studying his face. Meeting her eyes, Azriel did not hold back the grimace and disgust he felt. If she noticed, she did not show it. She held his gaze for a moment, before returning her stare to Rhys.

“You may take your leave.” With that, she stood and left into a different room.

Azriel and Rhysand left The Veil Whisperer’s home and winnowed back to the River House. There, the inner circle awaited patiently. No sooner than their feet had touched the wooded floors had Feyre come into view, carrying a crying Nyx in her arms. Azriel could see the tiredness weighing on his High Lady’s eyes. From what his brother had said, Nyx seemed to be crying at nearly all hours of the day as of late. As much as he loved his precious little nephew, he did not envy Feyre or Rhys at the moment… no matter how much he longed to have a connection that resulted in a family.

Rhysand scooped the wailing high baby of night into his arms, the nickname coined by Cassian, and began to rock him gently. He shushed the boy, though it did little halt the cries. "I've tried feeding him, changing, playing, napping..." Feyre trailed off, her hand rubbing across her forehead.

With his free hand, Rhys took his High Lady's hand into his own and squeezed. "Go have some time to yourself, Feyre. You deserve a rest," He said as gently as he could over Nyx's yells. Feyre looked gratefully at her mate and squeezed his hand in return. With a kiss on her child's cheek, Feyre took off down the halls to her respite. Rhysand met his brother's eyes and could see the question looming in his gaze. "I am not sure how we should proceed," Was all he said, and continued to rock his son. He slowly began to quieten though Nyx felt it fitting to let both males know he was still unhappy. Azriel remained silent, instead choosing to take one of his nephew's little hands into his own. The way the babe melted his heart was undeniable.

"Well, we will discuss the others about what to do... there is a lot to unpack from that one visit alone."

***

You tried to focus on the book in your hand, though the words seemed to swim on the page. Your mind relentlessly returned to the earlier encounter with the High Lord of Night and his Spymaster. It had been a long stretch of time since the last time a three-part omen presented itself to you. If you were being honest with yourself, the decision to reject Rhysand's offer was one you weren't sure was completely right. The last time something similar happened... Well that hadn't ended well. Your cheeks heated at the thought, the familiar bubble of anger roiling in your stomach.

Your mind wandered to the Shadowsinger, as you lost yourself in the smoke whirling and twirling from the incense burning before you. The way he looked at you, disgust and interest all mixed together in his smoky gaze. A slight smile tugged at the corners of your lips. As good as Azriel was at hiding his emotions, you thought him fairly easy to read. He trusted Rhysand implicitly, and Rhysand trusted him. They looked to each other for support throughout their earlier meeting. You found Azriel's eyes looking between you and the High Lord, he was ready to put himself between you if the situation called for it. The spymaster looked at you like you were a walking, talking trap. A light chuckle. You supposed he wasn't wrong, after your little trick on Rhysand last time. You sensed his personal apprehension of you. After the revelation of his tea leaves, you didn't miss how he seemed to pale when he realised he had his leaves read. If he was like most sentient beings in Prythian, he was likely terrified of the possibility of anything other than The Mother existing. Fool.

At the thought of the leaves, you stood and made your way through your cottage. Huffing frustratedly, you settled before your small desk and reached for the soft cloth. Folding it, you placed it over the crown of your head, leg bouncing impatiently. If you can't stop bitching about it, then you might as well get more guidance, your mother used to say when you got like this. Tying the knot in your hair, you reached for the pouch, pulling out the familiar deck of cards. Though you had many in your collection, this set was always your favourite. These cards were brutal when they wanted to be, but always said what you needed to hear. After knocking the deck and shuffling, you had an itching feeling the cards would be on the more brutal side today. With that, your hands kept shuffling until three cards dropped. Two landed faced-up, and a long sigh escaped through your lips. Ten of cups in reverse, eight of wands upright. "Wow," you said humourlessly. You turned over the final card. There was no denying that change was coming. And it was coming in a way that you weren't going to like or be able to avoid. Not with The Tower staring back at you, upright. Brutal cards indeed.

You contemplated the signs before you and the leaves from earlier. Whatever was coming your way was unavoidable, that much was true. Another sigh. You would deal with this tomorrow. After putting the cards away, you padded to your kitchen. After a day like this, you pulled out your favourite blend. Bringing the box of tea to your nose, a sense of nostalgia filled you. People had come and gone, tragedies ebbed and flowed but this tea had always remained a comfort. Settling in your chair before the fire, you sipped the tea and allowed yourself to relax finally. The sun began dip below the horizon. Despite the turmoil of the day, you felt your nerves settle. You allowed the heaviness of your eyes take over.

There was a storm raging outside your window now. The hail battered your window so hard you were sure the glass would crack. The room was eerily quiet. The candles had snuffed themselves out, the fire in middle of the room cast a red glow over the room. A chill encroached the room. You rubbed your arms and looked around. The lack of presence in the room rattled you. There was always a sense of vague company in your little abode. Now, it was stagnant. Like the room was holding its breath as the storm raged outside.

Standing from your chair, you looked into through the open doors of your home... strange. You always kept your doors shut. Each room was the same. Empty. The wind screamed outside your window, wailed like a feminine rage. Viscous and... terrifying. Goosebumps prickled along your arms. The screams started to sound more real. Like a baby, howling for help. The sound was undeniable. Everyone knew what that sound meant. A tremble took over your hands, a cold sweat immediately broke out across your brow. Your heart began to thump heavily in your chest. Instinct had you bolting back through the rooms of your cottage. Every time you followed the sound, it moved somewhere else. Louder and louder, that baby cried. Squealing in pain. Tears gathered in your eyes, your shaking hands pulling at your hair.

"Where are you?!" You screamed.

The scream suddenly sounded behind you, right in your ear. You whirled. There it was, across the room. The baby, swaddled as though it had been ripped from its crib. He cried wantonly as a long, black nail rubbed over his cheek. You looked at who was holding the child... at what was holding the child. It was strange, its features blurry. It was looking right at you, its aura threatening yet smug. You felt stuck.

"What are you?" You growled.

It remained stock-still, all for its nail rubbing the infant's cheek. Like it knew it was upsetting the poor child. You repeated the question again, trying to find the power within yourself. The being studied you, like it knew what you were trying to do and it judged you. The emptiness within... you couldn't feel your power.

"What. Are. You?" The demand passed through your lips with a venomous ease. Your heart only thumped harder as the nail on the baby's face halted.

Halted and began to dig in.

Your ears rang with the shrill of the baby's terror. Though you could not make out any identifiable features on the being, you knew it was smiling more and more. You tried to run for the child, though your feet remained cemented to the ground. You tried to pull against it, though nothing seemed to work.

"Please!" You begged for the first time in many moons. "Please!"

Suddenly the cries halted. The beast stopped too. The baby turned its head and looked into your eyes, tears still dripping down his little face that was beet red. You stared back in horror, fear rippling through you in waves. You reached out to it, wishing you could comfort it. However, as your hand fully outstretched the being lunged for you, the baby falling from its hold.

Your mouth opened to shout, the breath beginning to rip through you. It wasn't quick enough to stop it. The being ran through you quicker than the scream left your lungs. Quicker than the baby hit the ground.

The scream followed you back into the real world as you jolted upright in your seat. Heaved breaths laboured through you as your hand rubbed against your chest. Your eyes darted around the room. Candles lit. Fire bellowing. Heat in the room. Calm weather through the window. A nightmare. It was a nightmare. Something wasn't right about it, that much you knew. That baby... You shot up out of your seat, and grabbed your bags.

***

The inner circle of Night sat in a semi-circle around the fire. Conversations littered throughout the room. The rain outside made the room feel cosier. Azriel sat between Nesta and Elain. The sisters were chatting idly.

"Well all I'm saying is that I could recommend you books that are far more interesting than 'An Encyclopaedia of Prythian's Flora and Fauna'," Nesta teased.

Elain smirked, "I'm sure you could, sister. I'm sure your titles are positively riveting and mentally stimulating."

"They stimulate something anyways," Azriel muttered, his mind going back to the times she and Cassian had fucked all over The House.

Nesta hit Azriel's arm playfully and Elain giggled though a rosy hue coloured her cheeks.

Silence captured the room as a cry from Nyx emanated into the space. A frustrated sigh escaped Feyre and Rhys... and everyone for that matter.

"I do not know how you deal with that day in and day out, as lovely as he is when he's quiet," Amren announced.

"Oh please, Amren," Morrigan protested. "He's just a little baby!"

Rhys and Feyre left together. "A noisy one," Amren replied.

Morrigan rolled her eyes and gave the short female a snotty glare. It quickly left as the High Lord and Lady returned with their son. He still was still groaning and moaning. "Madja says there is nothing wrong with him... a lot of infants go through this," Feyre stated as she handed the baby over to Mor.

"It's okay," She cooed. "Come to your favourite Aunty Mor."

All eyes shot to Azriel when he shot up from his seat and began stomping toward the doors. Someone has entered the city, he projected to Rhys and Feyre through his mind. Both of them followed, getting ready to intercept the stranger. Azriel could hear the others question what was happening. He assumed Rhys and Feyre relayed the message to them because they all silenced themselves. The three of them walked all the way outside, until they were free of the wards on the estate.

"I will winnow us," Feyre announced and held out each of her hands. Both males took her hand without question and they winnowed to the location that Azriel provided. A multitude of possibilities ran through Azriel's mind, as he took out Truth Teller. Maybe an Autumn Court spy. Court of Nightmares, perhaps. Bryce Quinlan may have returned? None of the speculations could have prepared him for the reality when he emerged from the winnow.

For you standing on the edge of the city, feline-smiling at all three high fae, bags in hand. "Hello there, High Lady Feyre. I do not believe we have met before," You said.

"What are you doing here?" Feyre had really mastered the voice of a High Lady.

"Forgive me," You said incredulously, "Was it not your mate and Shadowsinger that requested my services?" You asked as though they were children. Rhysand looked like he was going to rip her apart, to which she grinned. "Well I've changed my mind, it's your lucky day."

"Why the sudden change of heart? After your leaves and omens," Azriel bit.

"Oh pipe down. I did further searching. It is in our best interest to proceed with our best foot forward. I will help you, take it or leave it," You barked. Azriel felt a sense of urgency from you, a sense of unease.

"What of your price?" Rhysand asked.

"I have not yet decided." Definitely out of character.

"How do we know you will not ask for too much even after the job has begun?" Feyre this time. All three of them were a force to be reckoned with.

"Ugh," You grumbled. Never had you seen three more ungrateful people. "I am offering you my help without a prior price, surely that speaks for itself. But if it's really that much to you, I will not ask for anything that will ruin any of you or your court... is that enough?" All three looked to each other, a mental conversation, you were sure. You took the opportunity to look at Azriel again. There was something you couldn't quite put your finger on, an interest.

You purged the thoughts from your mind as the Shadowsinger's eyes met your own. You smirked once again at the apprehension in his gaze, that same religious fear swarming.

"We will accept," The High Lady announced. "Though we still need to know why you are in the city? How did you get this far without triggering the wards?"

You met her eyes. Feyre was as fierce as you'd heard. You were impressed when you found out that Rhysand had made her his High Lady. A better male than his father, that was for sure. "Hm..." You chuckled lightly. While you studied her, you could tell she was becoming impatient. "I'll put it to you this way, High Lady. My abilities are very old, very complex. Older than the magic that flows through your veins. So I can be wherever I want to be, undetected. I thought that I would trigger the wards here, strong as they are, as some sort of... doorbell we'll say." The sarcasm was clearly not appreciated by her. You noted the look of muted surprise when you used her honorific without malice as you were sure she was accustomed to. "As for my reasons being here, my work will be better undertaken from here." They wanted to press further, though they all remained silent.

"Very well, Veil Whisperer," Rhysand said. "You will stay with Azriel in the city. You will conduct your work in conjunction with him and report to myself and my High Lady periodically until this ordeal is over."

Azriel would rather do anything other than share lodgings with this female, but they were desperate he supposed. The Veil Whisperer looked less than pleased with the terms. Your eyes scanned over all three of them, weighing. You walked toward them. Azriel braced himself. With an outstretched hand, you spoke "Deal."

Rhys, Feyre and Azriel stared at your hand as though there was a trick in your sleeve which put a humoured grin on your face. You kept it outstretched, waited for them to shake. Feyre took your hand first, shaking it gently but firm at the same time. Her lead was followed by Rhysand and Azriel.

You looked at them once again, and dipped you chin as a sign of respect. You were only glad that you managed to stop shaking during your trek here.

Note: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you want me to create a tag list :)

[fictional-orphan-smackdown]

PINK VS. PINK, GO!

All propaganda under the cut

Miles Edgeworth

The case in which his father died is the root of all the tragedy in the first 3 games. He even thinks he killed his father at first which is very sad and he has lasting trauma from the incident (his father died in an elevator during an earthquake. edgeworth is shown to panic and shut down during earthquakes or something similar like airplane turbulence and he avoids taking the elevator whenever possible)

Miles Edgeworth is the most repressed individual you'll ever meet. He is a chess player and everytime he has a chess board he puts the red pieces (him) cornering a blue piece (HIS RIVAL/THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE). He told the aforementioned rival his ex girlfriend died by telling him "her metabolic processes are concern of only historians". He dresses like a victorian child. He is a steel samurai fan. Almost christmas means it wasn't christmas

Sakuya Sakuma

OUGH okay hello I’m gonna yell about my little guy here. Obviously he’s an orphan; parents died when he was really small, passed around to different family members, and BOY does it affect him. He’s not colossally depressed or anything but it does give him abandonment issues, a general sense of loneliness, and a latent fear that if he’s too sad or angry then he’ll get sent to live somewhere else. Even after he joins his live-in theater company, though he does start moving past it there. Despite all that, he always strives to be kind and caring and cheerful, yes in part because he felt like he had to be but also because he just generally is. He’s so very loved in the place he’s at to the point that a number of grown adults (he starts the series at 17!) openly admit that they look up to him. TRULY one of the characters ever I’m so incredibly normal about him

ok so i havent been caught up in years so forgive me if i get the details wrong but he's just a ball of sunshine despite all he's gone thru (multiple foster homes, never really feeling like he belonged anywhere). like he literally put his everything into acting because it was the only place he could go that wasn't back to a foster home (the company has dorms for the actors), to the point where he was doing "solo" shows (he had a bird as a supporting actor) just to bring in enough people to keep the acting company from shutting down completely. also it's the way that he FINALLY found a place to call home and people to call family and he was SO DESPERATE to hold onto that when his fellow troupe members threaten to leave (at least once for each of them for a minimum of 5, but only one at a time. u would think they would catch on at some point and not do that). also the sleepover cg in act 1 makes me feel like crying like they're finally on the same page and ready to work together and they look so comfortable and vulnerable with each other and it just AUGHH because they only did that after sakuya decided to sleep on the stage on his own and got caught by another troupe member who dragged in the rest of them too like hello?? crying

[theworldbrewery]

Funmaxing: How to Create a Character You'll Like Playing

Part One: Choosing a Role that Fits

I'm about to be a player in a full campaign for the first time in 5 years (I was lucky enough to play in a few oneshots and an 8-session mini-campaign during that time), and for the first time in a long time, I get to really think about being on the player's side of the table!

If you, like me, are about to embark on the journey of creating a D&D character, this one's for you.

If you've played D&D before, you've probably had the problem where you came up with an awesome character concept and started playing, only to realize you picked features that your character wouldn't use, or that didn't work with the way you like to play.

Some DMs may let you change it at some point, but the majority of the time, the only solution to being dissatisfied with the mechanical choices you made is to...retire the character. Make a new one. When you really enjoy roleplaying the character, it can feel like you're between a rock and a hard place: say goodbye to a character you love, or muddle through with mechanics you hate.

(this can happen the other way around as well! I'll be writing about that later)

So how do you get in front of this problem? How do you choose mechanics you actually like that also make sense for your character concept?

The advice below assumes that you have come up with a character that is willing and able to go adventuring.

The first step in designing a character's mechanics is to ask yourself:

What roles do you like playing in D&D, both in and out of combat?

There are many different roles in D&D. Some are pretty well-known: you have the tank, the DPS, the glass cannon, the healer. But you also have the support caster, battlefield manipulation, and more. At the same time, not all of D&D takes place in combat. Depending on the game, there are different ratios of combat:exploration:social interaction. If one of those 'pillars' of play doesn't interest you, that's okay, but there will likely be some elements of all three in every game, and it's helpful to have a character that is capable of interacting with all these pillars.

The lists below are not exhaustive. It's also typical to enjoy more than one role, and to take on more than one role at a time. As you review the lists, think about which roles you would most enjoy playing.

Combat Roles

Tank: soaks up attacks. If you like taking huge amounts of damage or making enemies waste attacks on you that never hit, this is a good role for you.

DPS: for the uninitiated, this stands for 'damage per second'. If you like doling out huge amounts of damage each round, this role is a good fit.

Glass Cannon: like DPS, this role deals out high damage but frequently has limited resources, like spells, and has a low defensive capability. If you like to feel powerful 'at a cost', this is a good role for you.

Healer: this role keeps allies standing and protected against danger with wards and restorative abilities. If you like to feel like a rescuer and pull your party out of bad situations with a clutch move, you may enjoy being a healer.

Support: this role focuses on making your allies stronger and your enemies weaker. If you like setting up your fellow players for extreme power without wanting it for yourself, or get satisfaction out of watching your enemies crumble, this is a good fit.

Battlefield manipulation: this role controls different elements of the encounter by moving allies and enemies around, taking control over enemies, and creating effects that change the physical landscape. If you like thinking tactically about placement on the board, affecting who can go where/do what, and turning enemies to your side, this is a good role for you.

Summoner: this role uses other creatures to fight on your behalf, not just summoned ones. If you like having animal companions, constructs, or summoned creatures take on the fights for or alongside you, you may like the summoner role.

Exploration Roles

The Trap-Wise: this role is on the lookout for unexpected dangers, like ambushes, pitfalls, and cursed treasures. If you like to stay on your toes, monitor what others are doing, and be a front-liner of exploration, this role is a good one for you.

The Looter: this role is looking for Stuff. You might be checking bodies, foraging for the party's dinner, or combing through bookcases for interesting tomes; if that sounds like your kind of fun, you might enjoy the Looter role.

The Puzzle-Solver: this role wants to gather and resolve information about the scenario, whether that's literally solving a puzzle or figuring out the BBEG's secret plans before she can put them into action. If you like thinking about how the scenario works and gathering intel, you might like being a Puzzle-Solver.

The Poker: this role sees something interesting and decides they're going to poke it. If you want to throw caution to the wind and just trigger the pressure plates already, this role could be a good fit.

The Mapper: this role is for figuring out where you are, where you're going, and how you're going to get there. You might be checking for secret rooms and hidden doors, or scouting ahead either on your own or with a familiar or divination ability. If you're always thinking about the next step forward, you could have fun as a Mapper.

The Prepper: this role is getting ready for the next threat. If you want to set up defenses for your camp, heal or empower your allies before you face danger, or divine the future, you might like the Prepper role.

Social Roles

The Friend: this role tries to get on others' good sides. You may deescalate a tense situation, convince an untrusting NPC to let down their guard, or earn the favor of a powerful creature. If you really did come here to make friends, this might be a good role for you.

The Powerhouse: this role uses skills, physical strength, or magical power as leverage. You might magically or physically force a confession, show off your competency to get an adventuring contract, and back up your allies' words with an intimidating presence. If you want to say more by saying less, you might like playing a Powerhouse.

The 'I Know a Guy' Guy: this role relies on interpersonal connections, linking the party to NPCs for resources, information, and new quests. If you like networking and building connections, you might enjoy playing this role.

The Information Broker: this role collects and exchanges information, from gossip to news to clues. If you like plying others for intelligence, you might have fun as an Information Broker.

The Trader: this role speaks the language of barter and coin, assessing others for their material worth and goals. If you like transactional roleplay encounters from haggling to bribery, the Trader could be a good fit.

The Influencer: this role distracts crowds, plants the seeds of gossip or discontent, and directs the favor and ire of the public. If you want to be at the heart of the crowd, you could enjoy the Influencer role.

The Cold Reader: this role assesses others for their motives, intentions, and feelings to gain a social advantage. If you like to understand what's happening at the heart of an NPC, you might like playing a Cold Reader.

Once you've identified the roles you enjoy, think about the group as a whole: will anyone else want these roles? It can be extremely frustrating to choose a glass cannon role, only to discover everyone else is playing glass cannons, too. Party composition doesn't need to matter to play a good game, but when you have the same role as another player, it can be easy to feel like you aren't adding anything new or interesting to the encounters.

Next, think about the game you're about to play: will these roles be useful in this game specifically? Some DMs might leave out the elements necessary for a given role to work, or the specific game you're playing won't give you many opportunities to use a certain role. You can always let the DM know what you want to see, so they can give you situations that play to your interests, but it's also fine to acknowledge that not every role will fit in every game.

Finally, consider your character concept: which roles fit with the character I've come up with? If you know things about your character's personality and background, you can compare them to the roles you're interested in and see where there are points of alignment. You don't need alignment between the combat, exploration, and social role, but some roles fit better together than others, like a DPS combat role being Trap-Wise in exploration and an 'I Know a Guy' Guy in social encounters -- that describes a very typical rogue archetype, and rogue abilities often serve these roles well.

Once you've assessed the roles you like in combat, exploration, and social encounters, you're ready to build your character's mechanics!

A short example: In the upcoming campaign I'm playing in, my character concept is a drow woman from a minor noble family who was disowned for improper behavior. She was previously trained in martial fighting, but has since become a pit fighter to help make ends meet. This character is going to be mostly battlefield manipulation with some tanking, because I love to play with combat tactics and soak up damage. In exploration, I'm not yet sure; I think she'd be a good Poker, but another player really gravitates toward that role, so my backup choice is the Looter. For social encounters, she'll be mostly Influencer, but since she'll be tactical in combat I think she'd also be a Cold Reader when it comes to assessing potential threats and their capabilities.

'part two: choosing your features' can be found here.

[chrollohearttags]

nsfw alphabet • bruno bucciarati: breath play

📝: black fem!reader (she’s a former escort), fingering, squirt play, side fucking

word count: 1.3K

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you’d encountered many men in your line of work. After all, the sole objective of your profession was to make them happy…show them a good time and do anything their hearts desired. Of course, sometimes those requests got out of hand. You didn’t exactly feel comfortable but such was life..it was the hand you were dealt and if you wanted to survive in this brutal city, then it behooved you to do it without incident. You never wanted to cause trouble or get in the bad graces of someone powerful enough to make you disappear without a trace. After all, you didn’t exactly favor anyone here physicality wise, so you kept your head down and made your money. Nothing more, nothing less…however, after all this time and the plethora of patrons you’d entertained…

“Ahh! Haaa…please, Mr. Bucciarati…faster.”

“Oh hush now, mi amor..you’re going to come too quickly, you know that. You never were good at holding back..”

you could say beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you’d never met a man quite like Bruno Bucciarati! Kind, intelligent, extremely handsome, charming..just a few of his many admirable qualities. He was far more mature than most men his age and carried a rather dominant demeanor. Not in a controlling sense but instead..a man who knew how to lead and not follow. He’d never allow you to go astray..that was a sentiment he carried in the bedroom as well. He made love to you like a man obsessed. Granted, you had retired from your previous profession and spent your days living quietly off of that income. Due to a majority of your clientele being mafioso as well, you didn’t have to worry about a thing financially..they paid you amicably. It was the least bit of solace for the blatant disrespect you’d receive from time to time. However, Bruno atoned for all of that. He made you feel comforted and safe. He didn’t view you as ‘damaged goods’ or someone who was desperate for attention. There was no judgment at all. He saw the beautiful lady that lived only a floor above him..the one who was always humming and singing in the most mellifluous voice as she tended to her flowers, the one who’d bake the most delicious breads and cooked foods from her home country that made his mouth water..he was awestruck, infatuated and even dared to say…he was in love. Perhaps it was the fact that you were so similar. Two people who were so young, yet had lived three lives over. Hence why, you’d trust him wholeheartedly.

“But it feels so good. I don’t think I can hold it..” “I know it does, my dear. But you’re just going to have to be patient. You trust me, do you not?” “Of course I do, Bruno…” “..then lean back against my chest and just let me handle it. Deep breaths, okay? I need to be sure that you can handle this.”

hence why you were lying nude in his arms, sprawled out on his bed with your legs parted wide. His index and middle fingers plunged knuckle deep inside of your tight hole..that pretty pussy squelching with each plunge and refusing to loosen the grip on those digits. The sounds were enough to drive him insane, but the way you trickled down his hand, he was in absolute awe. So wet and creamy that he feared he’d last no amount of time inside of you. After all, the first time wasn’t the ideal performance he’d hoped for. Orgasming with only a few strokes because you felt that good. But you’d never felt pleasure the way you had with him. He absolutely worshiped your body and made it known each time.

Your naked bodies intertwined underneath pale moonlight and flickering candles; the contrasts of your skin making for beautiful imagery. The scene following that of the two of you immersed in a warm bath together. But it wouldn’t stay so innocent and intimate for long. Because now? He was opting for something a little less romantic and downright salacious. “Here..open your mouth. Inhale..” doing exactly as he instructed, you’d gasp and take a sharp breath. Making sure to get a healthy breath of air before he moved on. “Good girl, now hold it just like that.” In a moment’s notice, Bruno’s movements sped up between your thighs, thrusting those digits in and out. Meanwhile, his free hand had made place across your mouth and nose, asphyxiating the two as he worked you over. Plunging that tight cunt and making it squeeze around those knuckles. You wanted to scream out in pleasure, let him know how amazing it felt but alas, you couldn’t breathe. Some would probably wonder why you’d even find pleasure in something so terrifying and dangerous. He’d tested you earlier with a hand around the throat or by pinching your nose and the bodily response let him know that you were ready for such things. But you craved the rush…maybe all of those years of playing with your life, leaving it in the hands of literal criminals evoked something inside of you. You loved the adrenaline that came with this sensation. Practically wishing for air as he forced you to an orgasm. Paying at his forearm, (y/n)‘s eyes dilated as you began to feel faint. Your consciousness was right on the brink of slipping and you’d squirm around until finally…

“Come..come for me..”

he uttered those sought after words and you’d fulfill his request; allowing juices to flood those crisp white sheets. Squirting as high as his forearm. You’d been teetering on the edge all night, especially after sucking him off and it all came barreling out in an explosive climax. “Oh my gosh, yes!” At the same time, he’d release your mouth and nose, capturing you in a kiss immediately after. Before you even had time to react, he’d shift you over onto your side. But not before giving your ass a much needed smack.. “Shit..I’ve got to have you right now, I’m so sorry..” growling into your ear like that of a primitive creature. Alas, there was nothing to apologize for..you craved him just as badly. You didn’t care if the walls were paper thin and your neighbors could hear. You wanted everyone to know how excellent of a lover Bruno Bucciarati was. Curling his frame over you, he’d raise your leg up and immediately sink his cock inside of that aching warmth. “Fuck! Please fuck me..” begging him in that voice that always got you your way. He didn’t hesitate either, feeding you deep and sharp strokes whilst a hand cupped your throat. This time, a little firmer than before. Your tongue wagged around outside of your plump lips, drool trickling and falling down your chin with that deviant smile on your face. “Goddamn..the way you squeeze me when I choke you. It’s so good, bella.” He was like a man starved, abandoning your well being for both of you guys’ sexual pleasure. He wasn’t stopping for anything. He’d continue to choke you, alternating his grip as he did his pace. (Y/N) glanced back and encouraged him with filthy words. Telling him how much you loved the pain and that he could pound you harder. “Scopamiiii, oh my gosh…you’re so wet. I just want to stay buried inside of you all night..” grunting those sweet nothings in your ear. He was in awe of how amazing you felt. He knew there wasn’t a single place on earth he’d rather be. The bed creaked and slammed against the wall to match your rambunctious love making. Cries and wails of pleasure, gasps of sharp breaths when he allowed you to do so…allowing him to take full control and dominion over you. Something you’d never thought you’d be okay with a man doing.

“That’s it, amore mio..submit to me, let me take care of you from here on out. I’ll make you feel better than anyone else. Trust me..all you have to do is trust me.”

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@greenieweeniesworld @spaceforher @wintrrxxo @rnvsxo

[ilaria-jinx]

Spoilers for Season 5 below!!

Okay I’m gonna say this with literally so much love for the Penumbra Podcast and everyone involved in the podcast but-

Season 5 is weird, right? I can’t really describe how it feels, not well, but…

It’s like… it’s like all of the characters and the storylines shifted to the left a bit, but we didn’t really get any reason for it? In the Juno storyline, the Grandpappy’s Recipe episode is where it stands out the most to me - Peter’s attempt at gaining the recipe opened an eye into some new dimension for me, for example. Genuinely convincing someone he’s in love with them, conning someone for literal months… that’s never ever seemed like Peter’s style. He’s an in-and-out man. And Grandpappy was so, so sure, too. When did Peter start manipulating people like that so effectively? I knew he was good, but… this feels bad. Like, he feels bad. I have never gotten the sense that Peter was a genuinely bad person before. Stuck in a terrible situation, yes. But… bad? No.

And the way Juno only lingers on Peter’s con for literally only a second feels so off to me too. Because by the start of the next episode, he’s gone straight back into business mode, and concentrated on finding Nureyev. Juno has become kinder in these years, but I have never felt he was a fool. And yet. He doesn’t… he doesn’t actually give any thought to it, not really?? Like. I don’t- I don’t get it. The way he handles the whole thing between Nureyev and Slip, too, especially after Nureyev says he doesn’t want to see him anymore.

And can we talk about how weird it is that the Docana group managed to go years without anyone finding out they’ve been up-lifing or revivifying or whatever they call it so many people? I genuinely didn’t understand the surprise there, I’m so sorry (this is not sarcasm, I’m genuinely sorry for making an overly bold claim).

And can we look at the way that Juno and Rita are somehow closer than they’ve ever been, but Rita is suddenly so much edgier than she ever was before. She’s so much less bubbly than she ever was before. “But!” You cry, “she just finished being an intergalactic fugitive, of course she’s edgy!” Except she was an intergalactic fugitive for a WHILE and she was still acting like… well, like a kid in a candy shop, mostly. And to me, there are instances where it seems like her character has almost been back-filled, like they’re trying to make it look like she’s always been this way. The “Rita Special” comes to mind (although I might be reading into this one, it just feels really weird to me).

Also, there are dialogue decisions that I can’t make sense of. The way that Warner Jane is literally talking about Freedom in Chains, and the Prisma Crystal Chimes, and THEN refers to it as “this other show I’m putting on” before re-describing it as Freedom in Chains? I don’t get that. Things like that have been happening a lot this season, at least from what I can tell.

I can’t make sense of the storyline. Every episode feels completely different from the last, and all the characters feel off. It’s… it almost feels like I’m trying to jump between really tilted and oddly-spaced steps when I listen. It’s like… it’s like the plot is setting us up for a breakup between Peter and Juno, but then the way they talk to one another / Juno narrates about Peter is like they’re still going to try to be together after everything? It’s… it’s weird.

And then Second Citadel!

They’re dealing with a literal apocalypse, and it’s like… everyone was losing their minds in the standard way, and then it’s like they took an invisible off-ramp from the highway.

Can we talk about Quanyii? What HAPPENED to them? I know they lost their mind in the Mirrored Plains. I get it. But they strangled Damien? But the insanity that is killing the child they’ve literally known for going on 8 years? What? Caroline fighting her own wife?? Excuse me???

And Damien in the Indomitable Duelist is OFF. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but something is very obviously WRONG with him. He started acting nutty the second he got to Rilla and Tal in the Senate’s dungeons. Like… so desperate? And crazy? The high-pitched voice, the losing track of sentences, the distraction - all of it is so wrong to me. (That might be a plot device for later, so please don’t yell at me)

Arum is locked in Mark’s basement, which like - don’t even get me started on that, because I will literally never stop screaming about it, but even that feels wrong. How can Mark - the same guy who rescued Olala, who treated her as the child she was, and recognized her as such, straight up imprison his best friend’s love interest? I know it’s been 8 years. I know. But it’s really, really weird.

And that’s not even focusing on the actual plot line, which is, for the record, WILD. I love it, I really do, I also don’t get it and I don’t know if I ever will. I cannot fathom how they will save their entire universe from the attack that is coming. I do not get it. We are playing with forces beyond my ken, but it seems to me like the situation is… literally hopeless. The entire rest of all the universes, however many there are, are dead set on the destruction of this one, tiny universe. How can anyone possibly hope to fight that? I understand that our characters have no choice except to fight. But we as listeners - we have to recognize that it’s like… kind of futile, right? Is that what this ending is leading to? Futility?

I just. I really can’t figure out how either of these stories are supposed to go anymore.

One of the things I have always loved about the Penumbra Podcast is that while you never get the ending you expect, it always ends sort of hopefully, or at least with some kindness. Yes, Juno walks out at the end of Season 1, but he’s not leaving Hyperion. Second Citadel season 2 has everyone in a really bad spot, but the gang leaves the citadel for better lives. It’s sad, but it’s better, because life moves on and people move on. In this season… I feel like I can’t find that. I feel like I’m expecting some dramatic out of character 180 (in Juno) / a huge over-powered magic trick (in SC) to fix the plot, or else both plots are going to end in heartbreak and futility and sadness.

I feel like I never left the April Fool’s episode.

Please, please understand, I love this podcast so much, I am not trying to hate on anyone or anything. This podcast means so much more to me than I can possibly express. I’m just really confused, I guess? And I’m wondering if anyone else is also confused? Or if someone can explain things? Please, please, if I am wrong, or confused, or completely stupid - someone please tell me what I am missing. Please tell me I’m interpreting things wrong, and how to see it right.

[halfmoonshines]

I just saw that you write for doctor who and hotd too, although I don't know if you write for 11th and Daemon, I'll try my luck anyway…. I wonder if I could get a Daemon x wife poc!reader x 11th doctor in which Reader is Daemon's wife and one day she is taking a walk when she meets the doctor (she kind of mistakes him for Daem, if that makes sense) and after she realizes it's not him, they start talking and she is kind of fascinated by the doctor (not only by his appearance, but by his entire work). So she invites him to their house (whether it's the red keep or dragonstone, it's up to you) and Daemon, who has just returned from a walk with Caraxes sees reader with a man, previously unknown, and goes to them. Then reader introduces them and comments on the similarity between them. She suggests that they spend the day together and Dae is a little reluctant, but ends up accepting, so they go out and in the meantime reader and 11th are kind of flirting (in a innocent) and Daemon is jealous (which reader loves, because she loves to tease him) At the end of the day Daemon and 11th have a talk about how lucky he is to have her and that he should take care of her. Before leaving, the Doctor promises the reader that he will visit her again (this after she asked him to stay the night, but he refused) when the TARDIS disappears, reader tells Daemon that he doesn't need to be jealous, because She is his and only he has her love and then they kiss (if it's too much, feel free to ignore it) please? (sorry for my English)

okay this is definitely not too much because, from the detail, i know you've daydreamed this before and i absolutely love it and you basically wrote it for me, i just need to fluff it up!!! thank you so much

fic requests go here

daemon targaryen x reader x 11th doctor

summary; the curious man you met on your walk piques both your interest and daemon's inner green monster

unnerving

You would never admit it to your fiery paramour, but you much preferred Dragonstone over The Red Keep. The ocean scented wind was wild in your hair, wisps pulling free from your braids. You held your slippers in one hand and the hem of your dress in the other, reveling in the sand between your toes.

This had became a morning routine for you and Daemon, him to go and give Caraxes some exercise while you enjoy some time alone on the shoreline. Although, from the shoulders you could see on the bluff, it seems as though he finished up earlier than usual this morning.

You didn't care how long you'd spent with the young Targaryen man; you were never less excited to see him. The fire that started at your stomach and reached for your cheeks blazed just as brightly each time for him. You hurried your pace, climbing the short stone stairs to the outlook you beloved stood at.

"Daemo-" Your exclamation was cut a bit short by the realization that this man... was most certainly not Daemon.

From up close you could see the differences, namely being the short brown hair. This man also had a loose feeling to his stance, leaned against the small statue of Caraxes that overlooked the ocean. He was looking at you then, eyes the same hazel green but a different shade - lighter. A kindness illuminating and curiosity illuminating them that Daemon would be adverse to.

You finally had the good sense to be concerned. Dropping the hem of your gown and taking a step away, your smile was sheepish as you curtsied. "Pardon the interruption, Ser. I merely mistook you for my husband."

"Your husband must be a handsome fellow!" Their voices even mirrored each other. "You can call me the doctor! Not a doctor, just the Doctor. Do you happen to know where we are?" The twin emphasized his question with a vague gesture at their surroundings, eyebrows pinching together. "This is a new one for me."

You cocked your head to the side, curious as to his strange way of speaking. How does one come to be somewhere without knowing where there is?

"You're at Dragonstone on the Black Water Bay. The castle is just up the hill." You pointed up and watched his eyebrows raise.

"The castle? I love a good castle. Who's is that? Can we go take a peek?"

Your laugh was light, deciding that even if he didn't match your husband, you just might like the stranger. "It's my husband, Daemon Targaryen's, ancestral home. Let's go take a look, I'm sure he would be riveted to meet you."

---

Daemon thoroughly enjoyed the routine he had found with his wife. No other woman had ever come close to rooting themselves this deeply into his life, and the white haired man didn't think he would ever meet another that could.

You understood his boundaries and his need for space. You were fiercely independent, which made Daemon all the more happy to try and outdo himself for you. Knowing you could care for yourself either way.

Now that Daemon was thinking about it, as he was patting his dragon goodbye, he was going to hunt you down this minute from your expected place on the beach below and have his way with you. Wherever you stood.

How good it felt to be king in his lands.

Just as he turned to start his mission, your laughter could be heard from the other side of the overlook. Smirking to himself, wondering about his impeccable timing, he changed direction toward the sound of your voice.

That's when he heard it. Another voice. A mans voice?

Daemon's playful smile quickly fell, something only to be described as a snarl taking its place. His pace quickened, turning the corner by the stables just in time to see you crest the hill with a vaguely familiar man.

He shook his head, making straight for you. Familiarity didn't fucking matter. These were his lands, his home and his wife. Who in the living fuck was mingling with his wife, all alone on the beach?

"Darling." Daemon's voice was loud and firm, the endearment sounding strange from him. "Are you alright?"

Your attention was on your husband instantly, smile radiating like the rising sun behind you. "Daemon! We were just coming to find you. This is the Doctor, he is.. visiting? I thought you would like to meet."

Daemon had come to stand right before you when his hand reached to grip your arm, pulling you firmly but gently to his side. "Visiting is it, Doctor?"

Eleven was as unbothered as they come typically, but he could not deny that the man standing across from him was his carbon copy. Sans the long, luscious white locks. Should Eleven grow his hair out? "Visiting it is, mate! Your lovely wife thought we might have a few things in common."

Daemon did not like the insinuation that they were similar, even if the appearance may be glaringly obvious. "Is your brother a king and your dragon as fierce as mine, then?"

Feeling his standoffish posture, your hand made light circles on his back while your gaze reprimanded him. "Daemon, he's just here to-"

"I'm sorry but did you say you have a dragon? That is probably the most badass thing I've ever heard, and I've been just about everywhere." Eleven was smiling like a kid in a candy store, gaze searching the sky above them like a dragon was going to swoop in at any minute. "How does one, uhm, see this dragon?"

Daemon's pride and ego battled each other for a split second before he bit out a reply. "I suppose we could go and see the dragon pits, so you know what the Targaryens are so feared for."

"Oh, wonderful! They're beautiful, Doctor, you'll love them." Grasping your husbands hand in your own, you began leading them across the clearing.

The day went similarly.

Eleven was so excited about the baby dragons that he thought he might have to come back in the dead of night to take one for himself, but quickly realized there had to be some karmic justice for stealing from yourself, right? Because Daemon Targaryen had to be some weird extension of him, they were basically copy-pasted.

Daemon did not like the Doctor one bit, almost specifically because of the smile on your face that he felt should be reserved for him. The stranger could sing praises about Dragonstone all he wanted but it wouldn't distract him from the fact that his wife seemed utterly smitten with the man.

You were having fun. The Doctor was a funny man, asking the strangest things. Like 'How do you spell Targaryen?' and 'How long have you been a monarchy?'

"What's a monarchy?" You didn't understand what was so hilarious about your husbands reply, but the Doctor was laughing like a giddy child.

It wasn't very often that you got visitors here, especially considering Daemon's nefarious past. It was a nice change, and so was the green encroaching upon your husbands face.

Every time the Doctor said something particularly funny and you couldn't help the full belly laugh you gave, Daemon's eyes narrowed a bit more. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy his jealousy. The tightness around his eyes as he assessed whether or not you were having just too much fun with the other man.

You made sure to assuage him with kisses throughout the day, small pecks here and there to show your loyalty. But you definitely didn't stop laughing.

By the end of your adventures, with the sun kissing the rolling hills of the island, the Doctor decided that he liked you very much. You reminded him of Amy, sure headed and sparky. You seemed like you had a good life here, full of dragons and fantasy. This was definitely one that Eleven was going to tell River about.

"Are you sure you have to leave?" Daemon stood a mere few feet away from their goodbye, refusing to budge another inch. "The castle has plenty of rooms that can be made-"

"My dragons eat strangers at nightfall."

"Daemon. He doesn't mean that, you'd be more than welcome." You rolled your eyes at his typical bravado, keeping your eyes on the ones that matched his.

"I unfortunately have other engagements that need my attention tonight, Y/N. But I had a lovely day. Thank you for showing me your home." Eleven's smile was warm, and genuine. He would miss this little corner of the multiverse, he was sure of it.

"Maybe you can come and visit again?" Daemon's scoff of disbelief was ignored by both.

"I will definitely pop by again. I need to see little fiery breath all grown up! I'd like to chat with your husband for a moment, before I leave."

With your eyebrow raised, assessing the two men, you gave a nod of dissent. "I'll meet you inside, my love." You gave Daemon a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth and smiled one last time at your visitor. "It was nice to meet you, Doctor, I hope to see you again soon."

Daemon was going over the pros and cons of gutting this fucker like a fish as soon as you were out of earshot.

Pros. He would definitely enjoy it.

Cons. You might end up crying. He hated that.

"You've got a lovely home and wife, my friend."

"Yes I do." Daemon had been confused by this Doctor's intentions all day, but right now the man opposite him only exuded a positive energy.

"You care for her a great deal, that much is obvious. Good. Never stop. Those kinds of women only come around once in a lifetime." Eleven gave him a conspiratorial clap on the shoulder as he walked around the man.

Daemon opened his mouth to bite back a retort but was quickly silenced by the appearance of a strange blue box mere feet from them. "What in the fuck is that?"

Eleven snorted and laughed, giving TARDIS a pat this time as he opened the door. "Oh, it's just my ride. Much bigger on the inside. Name your next dragon Doctor Jr, please."

And with that he was gone, Daemon's head spinning while the chiming of the TARDIS's leaving faded into the sunset.

"That was incredibly strange."

The Targaryen startled just a bit, turning to face you. "What happened to awaiting me inside, wife?"

Your smirk was playful while your hands wrapped around his waist, chin tilted up to gaze at him. "And leave you alone with some stranger? What if he had ran you through?"

Daemon growled low in his chest, the same possessive need filling him at your touch as it always did. "Do you not believe me to be the better swordsman?"

"You know I like to see you get dirty." Your voice was dangerously low, pulling at the strings you knew he had tightest at the moment.

"Seems like you wouldn't have minded seeing The Doctor get dirty as well." Daemon Targaryen was many things but bitter was certainly not one of them. Until right this moment.

"Daemon." Your lips met his once, quickly. "My husband." Your lips returned to his, lingering this time in the want you could feel radiating from him. "King of my heart. I will never want anyone but you."

He pulled your head to his then, mouth forcing yours open in a bruising, claiming kiss.

"Let's get inside. There was something I wanted to do earlier."

---------

I tried!! let me know how ya liked it

masterlist

[kuro-ousama]

Do you think Prideshipping is one sided or does atem feel that way about Kaiba ?

Ah I'm so sorry I haven't opened my tumblr until now (I kinda had an artist alley event couple weeks back). It'll be a little bit of a long post so I hope you won't kill me :'D

So, for your question, I would say it's mutual attraction, Atem does have feelings for Kaiba, but it's kinda complicated, and it's a build-up of various events that lead to that. Most shippers already know how their relationship gotten at Duelist Kingdom and onwards, so instead I'm going to break down "season 0" manga angle, where it began... for a change of pace.

Okay, from the top, let's start with Kaiba. He was your typical "bully of the week", it's not until after his first encounter with Atem that he became more obsessed. Kaiba was a champion, he was rich and powerful, he was unchallenged, he was undefeated. Kaiba was simply fuck around and find out, and he found out hard. That bruised his ego, that mentally scarred him, "who is this mf and how dare he".

On the other hand, Atem believed himself to be no more than a avenging alter ego, he was defending himself, he does not hold grudges, and he had no other purpose. Atem never had anything to call his own, and generally just being a hidden shadow.

As you already noticed, all of Atem's penalty game are not meant to kill, just scared the bullies enough for them to learn a lesson and not mess with him anymore. Kaiba is the only one who got it twice. So why, and what makes his situation different from other bullies?

Monster illusions was both damaging and inspiring for Kaiba, the whole Solid Visions idea was because of Atem's punishment. At this point, he already obsessed about Atem... even if that's an obsession for revenge. I have to give points to Horse Man, he knows Atem is not Yugi, before even Atem himself realized it, that's just crazy level of observations, and building a whole amusement park (of doom) just to get Atem's attention (by attempt to murder his friends)? If you minus the murdering parts it's kinda insane how driven and committed Kaiba was...

(Insert a very long explanation of Kaiba's backstory and Gonzaburo's very successful ideology implanted that should be in another post)

Back to Atem, Maple Boy saw that his previous penalty game obviously didn't fix Kaiba, nor warned him to stay away from him. His grandpa was hospitalized from a replica of his own penalty game, Kaiba's own blood brother didn't get spared either and would've suffer the same fate. It's not supposed to go like this, but it happened. After he saved Mokuba from the glass box of horror, a regular penalty game just wouldn't do, it failed.

That's why Atem had a different approach this time. Mind Crush is not a "penalty", in a sense, it let Kaiba rebuilding his heart, clear the brainwash of Gonzaburo, recover feelings that he lost, maybe even mend his sibling relationship with his brother. Other bullies gets off because they never dared to approach Atem again, he doesn't care about them anymore, but Atem cared enough about Kaiba that he wished him to be a better person. I take it that at this point, Atem was less angry and think more of "I can fix him".

T̵h̵e̵r̵e̵'̵s̵ ̵a̵ ̵w̵h̵o̵l̵e̵ ̵l̵i̵g̵h̵t̵ ̵n̵o̵v̵e̵l̵ ̵w̵i̵t̵h̵ ̵i̵n̵t̵e̵r̵l̵u̵d̵e̵ ̵d̵u̵r̵i̵n̵g̵ ̵h̵i̵s̵ ̵c̵o̵m̵a̵t̵o̵s̵e̵ ̵s̵t̵a̵g̵e̵ ̵a̵n̵d̵ ̵A̵t̵e̵m̵ ̵w̵a̵s̵ ̵h̵a̵v̵i̵n̵g̵ ̵a̵ ̵d̵o̵k̵i̵d̵o̵k̵i̵ ̵r̵e̵a̵c̵t̵i̵o̵n̵ ̵a̵t̵ ̵a̵n̵y̵ ̵m̵e̵n̵t̵i̵o̵n̵ ̵o̵f̵ ̵K̵a̵i̵b̵a̵ ̵a̵n̵d̵ ̵h̵o̵p̵i̵n̵g̵ ̵f̵o̵r̵ ̵h̵i̵s̵ ̵r̵e̵c̵o̵v̵e̵r̵y̵ W̵$̵#̵@̵#̵$̵%̵^̵F̵%̵̵&̵Y̵(̵U̵#̵%̵P̵O̵I̵(̵U̵̵

Duelist Kingdom is at least six months away and even then Atem was defending the comatosed Kaiba's honor, while Jounouchi and co. shivered every time he was mentioned. It's funny when the friend group only remembered Kaiba as a homicidal maniac but Atem was all rose-tinted over him and gets angry when people badmouthed him... "The greatest duelist I've ever met" well of course sweetie, you only met one before getting on Pegasus's island 🤣 (Jou doesn't count 'cuz he's only picking up the game a week before)

...So in a verrrry twisted version of this trope... Atem developed a kind of "Nightingale effect" for Kaiba? But replace "nursing the patient" with "mindbreak the patient so he can be heal", and said patient was already a yandere for said nurse.

[justsigma-bsd]

A Blank Page, Torn From A Book Without Name

Well, I ended up trying to put the word salad in my head into actual, coherent words after all.

First of all, everything here is just my take on things. The theories and thoughts I've had on certain things. I don't think any of it is official, but if anything of it is, in fact, confirmed to be true or false, feel free to tell me!

Some of the panels were taken from a YouTube video, which I'll link at the bottom!

TW for: Human trafficking, dehumanization

Ok, so first things first, some of this stuff I've already written down a while back for writing reasons. I found some of my old notes, and noticed that, after rereading the panels, they make more sense than I previously thought.

Let's start here: what stands out the most to me isn't that he's in the desert, not even the ticket. No, it's the simple »[...] or even who I was«

Because who, indeed, is Sigma? Sigma does not have an identity. He has no history, no nothing. Just the clothes on his back, a ticket that seems to be useless and earrings, for some reason.

Without a name, you don't have an identity and without identity you don't have a name.

Then there is this, too:

»I gave myself a name. Sigma. A man of the casino«

I don't believe he had a name upon being created. I don't think he had one for a long time, because in the same panel that he mentions giving himself a name, he also mentions the casino- which came much, much later. Sigma existed for three years by the time the series started. However, the timeline is wonky as heck.

Because how long did he stay with the traffickers? How long was he on his own after escaping? How long ago did Fyodor find him? Questions upon questions, but since I've already mentioned the lack of a name and the traffickers, let's get to my thoughts on that, specifically:

»They captured and enslaved me« along with »And once they knew that I had a skill [...]« makes me wonder: how long did it take for them to find out?

I haven't researched anything about human trafficking, but it's basically slavery, from what I've gathered through the previous things I've heard and read. And he does say so himself, too.

Sigma, three days alive, spent his early life a slave. It's confirmed that he was shackled, seeing that he is wearing them in the panels.

(As a side note, I do believe that he has scars from the shackles around his wrist. He wears a tight, wrist-long turtleneck beneath his coat, and I think it's to hide the scars. Both from others and himself.)

His first human interaction was plain horrible. Did he know and understand that? Did he understand that this wasn't normal? I don't think he knew how wrong this was at first. I don't believe that he understood it immediately. If he didn't know who he was, why would he know that being treated like this is wrong?

I believe that he realized it at some point, but not as soon as it started. I think he lived like that for a while, thinking it was normal, before getting some sort of wake-up call. Perhaps through his ability, or a fellow prisoner. Maybe both, or neither.

He must've gotten whiplash, once people genuinely looked up to him when he was the manager at Sky Casino.

I also think that he, probably, does tend to forget that being treated like that is, in fact, not normal or okay. Our upbringing leaves some sort of mark on all of us, experiences define us, give us habits and a feeling of what's normal and what isn't.

Which means that his "normal" is skewed and he expects being used rather than kindness, probably even after learning that some people are genuinely kind. I'm guessing that his mindset is, due to that, a simple "If I'm alive I'm alright".

I don't think he'd complain about being treated wrong and or left behind, or admit when he's injured. Or at the very least attempt to keep it a secret as long as possible- especially from those he sees as authority figures.

However, I also think that he was isolated, as per this panel:

Not only the text, but also the background paint a picture that causes me to believe that.

I almost skimmed past this panel while making my analysis, before pausing and taking a closer look. I thought this was in Sky Casino at first, until I looked closer and realized three things:

1, the background does not match Sky Casino in the slightest

2, he isn't wearing shoes or his current outfit, but the old clothes he had when wandering the desert

3, the shadows aren't from the light of a window, they're bars from a cell

While I did believe before that the traffickers kept him isolated from others (due to wanting to keep him unaware of the wrongness of his situation as well as to make sure he doesn't learn things he should/other prisoners finding out things that Sigma got to know by accident), this sort of put the final nail in the coffin for me.

But, at some point, he did realize that it was wrong. Perhaps he'd had a bad feeling from the start. Maybe he hated being treated like this. Who knows? Point is, he escaped. This brings us back to this page:

»No matter how kind someone seemed, they used me and then tried to kill me for knowing too much«

Sigma, after escaping the traffickers, after escaping the life of a slave, probably still didn't know much about living.

And I firmly believe that Sigma is smarter than even he himself thinks. There's just one issue: Sigma is naive (at least in my eyes), and it's not even his own fault. He simply tried his best to survive, and what was the reason the traffickers kept him around? His ability, most likely.

Problem is that his ability truly is something people would love to exploit, and it seems as if they did. Which makes me believe that he has a talent for running into murderers thinking they're nice people, only to get a not-so-nice surprise.

»The last one to use me [...]«, this specific line is the reason why I believe Sigma to have been used a lot. We don't know how often, exactly, his ability was taken advantage of. But we know the latest person who did.

Fyodor was the last one to use him, which means that, at that point, he was probably used to it. Used to being treated like a pawn, and used to people trying to kill for knowing too much. And I believe that he was, quite plainly, exhausted.

Imagine, your entire life consists of being forced to aid others with crimes, with being shackled. You don't know the difference between working for someone and being used by someone.

If you were offered what you wanted most, wouldn't you accept, too? Even if you know that you're once again being used? I mean... this time around, you gain something for it. Doesn't that make it worth the risk?

It's a gamble Sigma took... and lost.

This page involves two quotes that give me pause:

»Don't you wish for a home?«

We don't know why or how he knows what a home and a family is, but he does. And he wants it. He says it was never within his reach. But it is perfectly clear to us, while reading the Sky Casino Arc, that he wants it. He wants a home and a family.

He'd rather sacrifice his own life than see Sky Casino fall. »Home« and »Family« are, to him, more important than staying alive. Because it's something he never had, and something he clings to. Simply because he doesn't have anything else.

»I, who was originally 'nothing'[...]«

Is the second line that makes me pause. Because like previously mentioned, Sigma was a slave with no name or identity of his own. We don't know when he found out about being created by the book (and I firmly believe that he found out one way or another), but I believe he didn't see himself as a human before, and this "confirmed" it for him.

Think about it, would traffickers care about their victims? Would they treat them as human beings? Call them by their name? What about a person who has no name to begin with?

He wasn't treated like a human being in the beginning, and thus considered himself nothing. Considered his home and "family" to be worth more than hid own life.

He was literally created from nothing. His story doesn't have a beginning. He has no memories prior to being created, he had no name nor identity. How his story will end is unknown. We don't know what's written on his page.

I believe this, combined with being with the traffickers, makes him doubt his humanity. Not only because he was created through the book, but also because for the first (months? Year?) of his life, he wasn't treated like a human.

His sense of self-worth is probably down in the dumps.

»In the end I never did understand what I was born for...«

I don't think he knows the details of his existence. The content of his page, the words that brought him into existence. He doesn't know why he was born/created. He doesn't know what things were predetermined.

He doesn't know what's real and what's just writing on a page.

Sigma, in three years of being alive, went through hell. He was enslaved, his ability was taken advantage of over and over, he was used by multiple people who all ended up trying to kill him and when he thought that he finally found a home? A family? It was taken away from him.

Genuinely, he needs a plate of cookies, a hug and a ton of therapy.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little analysis and theories? I never did something like this before, so criticism is welcome!

Here's also the link to the video from which I got the screenshots: https://youtu.be/KwsSvFYAKjA?si=R_IvH-S8GYut_hrG

[marion-go-round]

hi!! i saw that ur reqs r open, so i wanted to request something :: mika kagehira x gn reader whose socially awkward + has mainly low energy headcanons ?? thank you :)

me when i start a request and waits like ten years to finish it/j meeks.. i am so normal about him

kagehira mika x gn!reader | fluff | cw: reader has low energy which can lead to some things we're all familiar with :D

➵ mika knows how socially awkward you can be so he tries not to overstimulate you so much. he knows that he's way too energetic for his own good and he sometimes forgets you tire easily.

➵ "it's not your fault" you tell him as he frantically waves his hands around and apologizes in a rushed manner. your small, yet tired smile makes mika worry more as he finds a way to make it up to you somehow.

➵ mika is a great comforter whenever you're feeling your lowest. he would ask what was wrong before anything else. your comfort and happiness are mika's top priority.

➵ he would sometimes ask ritsu and arashi for advice on how to help you further. he only wants to help you feel less overstimulated.

➵ in that sense, he tries to help you when there's a large crowd and you are too tired socially to deal with it. plus, he knows how socially awkward you were- his teach is the same thing. he would lead you out of there and sit with you until you were okay to go again. if you ask to go home, then he will take you home.

➵ sometimes the only person you'd talk to would be mika because of how socially awkward you were. sometimes you'd talk to him and his friends but that would be it. mika understands completely!

➵ your comfort is what mika values most and he'll continue to support you in any way he can

[neonfretra]

how i write alt text/image descriptions

these are written descriptions of media attached to posts, for those who may be unable to view them (primarily screen reader users, but this is also helpful for when images arent loading, explaining what is happening in an image, and so on), while fairly dauntin startin out its honestly a fairly simple process! :)

alt text can be added by clicking the meatball menu on attached medias (3 horizontally oriented dots, lower right corner of media in post editor), typically these would be a brief summary of the most important aspects of an image. alt text is embedded in the image.

image descriptions (sometimes shortened to id) are written in plain text like a caption. these may be longer/more detailed than alt text. typically, these are formatted with brackets to indicate when descriptions begin and end (i personally preface with "[Image description:" and close with "End description.]")

typically i focus on these 4 elements:

media type photograph, tweet, art, scoreboard, news headline, etc important for me as someone who posts photos alongside art to specify this difference because i dont want to be responsible for implying my drawings are reality LOL other details about the type of media are helpful if relevant, like quality (poorly drawn, run through with jpg artifacting) or stylization (realistic, monochromatic, minimalist, significant color choices)

text a piece of advice i saw was that you wanna just transcribe all text in an image, this works for stuff like tweets and dialogue but this is a sports oriented blog, sometimes you will come up on text that is just completely incomprehensible to transcribe. a game clock, any score readings? i approach it like reading it out loud and instead structuring the information in sentences (the score is this, in favor of this team. probably the one that isnt the sharks LMAO)

subject usually this means naming players and sharing relevant information about them (are they on opposing teams, is the position they play significant)

action the whats goin on? again, as a sports oriented blog, this tends to look like a brief play by play. goalie makes this save, player dodges around another player. these guys are kissing nasty again. this can also include emotion and tone. this person is angry, this action is particularly noteworthy, this situation is funny.

its kinda like takin notes, i only focus on the important stuff! you dont really gotta the avatar of a user, what ad is on the boards, what color is the background for every single image.

when writing your alt text/image, it helps to keep in mind that these are intended to be read out loud. use punctuation, avoid excessive emojis. if something in the original text does something that affects readability, it helps to just type it in plain text and note what stylization is missing.

because its meant to read out loud, you also gotta order your stuff in what makes the most sense. group things in chronological order, what order the viewers supposed to be seein things in. i tend to write things in order of media -> subject -> action -> text myself!

and when in doubt just copy someone else LMAO of course theres always someone smarter than you out there, check out what other peoplere sayin on how to do it if this isnt doin it for you

happy description writing! :) its okay if you are unable to write your own descriptions for any reason, i for one skip some posts just because theyre wayy too much to write out HAHAHAHA

accessibility is a group effort and were all here to help each other out <3

[poolsparks]

Time to start being cringe ig

Okay, so these are some doodles of my OC/sona and Gideon. To understand their relationship, it's better to see Vi as an small animal that follows Gideon around and bites him sometimes.

[inkskinned]

i love when words fit right. seize was always supposed to be that word, and so was jester. tuesday isn't quite right but thursday should be thursday, that's a good word for it. daisy has the perfect shape to it, almost like you're laughing when you say it; and tulip is correct most of the time. while keynote is fun to say, it's super wrong - i think they have to change the label for that one. but fox is spot-on.

most words are just, like, good enough, even if what they are describing is lovely. the night sky is a fine term for it but it isn't perfect the way november is the correct term for that month.

it's not just in english because in spanish the phrase eso si que es is correct, it should be that. sometimes other languages are also better than the english words, like how blue is sloped too far downwards but azul is perfect and hangs in the air like glitter. while butterfly is sweet, i think probably papillion is more correct, although for some butterflies féileacán is much better. year is fine but bliain is better. sometimes multiple languages got it right though, like how jueves and Πέμπτη are also the right names for thursday. maybe we as a species are just really good at naming thursdays.

and if we were really bored and had a moment and a picnic to split we could all sit down for a moment and sort out all the words that exist and find all the perfect words in every language. i would show you that while i like the word tree (it makes you smile to say it), i think arbor is correct. you could teach me from your language what words fit the right way, and that would be very exciting (exciting is not correct, it's just fine).

i think probably this is what was happening at the tower of babel, before the languages all got shifted across the world and smudged by the hand of god. by the way, hand isn't quite right, but i do like that the word god is only 3 letters, and that it is shaped like it is reflecting into itself, and that it kind of makes your mouth move into an echoing chapel when you cluck it. but the word god could also fit really well with a coathanger, and i can't explain that. i think donut has (weirdly) the same shape as a toothbrush, but we really got bagel right and i am really grateful for that.

grateful is close, but not like thunder. hopefully one day i am going to figure out how to shape the way i love my friends into a little ceramic (ceramic is very good, almost perfect) pot and when they hold it they can feel the weight of my care for them. they can put a plant in there. maybe a daisy.