#run utility commands

[bucksangel]

run little bunny

pairing: softdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: Being John Walker’s assistant is hard; he’s mean, disrespectful, misogynistic, the whole nine yards. On top of that, he hardly pays you fairly. So, when you’re fired for a mistake you’re sure wasn’t your fault, you’re at risk of being kicked out by your rude roommates. Luckily for you, James Barnes, a wildly successful CEO, has found his way into your life. And he’s going to take such good care of you.

warnings: where do i even start, 18+, minors DNI and i fucking mean it, mild coercion, some of it could be interpreted as stalking, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, sir kink, oral (f receiving), housewife kink, breeding kink, pet names (bunny, darling), dirty talk, dom!bucky and sub!reader, choking, squirting, basically just absolute filth, a little hurt-comfort, reader’s roommates are awful and mean, not john walker friendly but when am i ever

a/n: so this was supposed to just be some quick smut but as always i went overboard, so please enjoy! likes and comments are appreciated, reblogs are even better!

tip jar | main masterlist | ao3 | run little bunny masterlist

Your hands are shaking slightly, your heartbeat races with anxiety, and your leg bounces rapidly. Today is an important day after all, and your boss has made it clear that if you mess up in any way then he’d have to rethink your employment. That sent dread flooding through your body, so you’ve been preparing yourself for the last week to make sure everything for the meeting is perfect.

And, on the technical side, everything is immaculate - mostly due to you staying up until almost midnight each night to polish the presentation. You thought everything was done properly, but when you’d walked into the building that morning your boss was holed up in his office finishing up his portion of the work, so you’d decided to simply email him to let him know that you had arrived.

Everything was perfect. But when you get into the meeting room, your boss’ eyes go wide, anger clouding them while he scowls. You quickly make your way to his side, only for him to bark out a command for you to grab water for his incoming guests. Placing your notebook on the table, you turn to scurry off to the side to grab the glasses, but you’re stopped when your boss grabs your arm harshly.

“Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Um… Um, I-“ Your boss raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you might throw up from the sudden anxiety. “No, sir.”

He scoffs, muttering under his breath something about looking “trashy,” before releasing you and allowing you to go to the minibar.

Your arm stings, no doubt sporting a red mark because of how harsh the grip was. You’re also confused because you thought the floral dress you’d chosen was pretty. Sure, it may not be high class, but your boss has never had a problem with it before, but you’re assuming that he’s on edge due to who he’s meeting with.

James Barnes; the most powerful and successful CEO in the entire country. You haven’t met him personally, but from what you hear you know that he’s not someone you want to upset. According to the hushed whispers around the office, he stands at a towering 6’6, tattoos cover his arms and hands, and if he frowns then you better move out of the way.

Would Mr. Barnes be upset with your attire?

You desperately hope not, because you need this job. While you can barely make your rent and utilities, you don’t have any other job lined up, and you’re way too scared to ask for a raise from a man who so clearly disrespects you. For right now, though, you’re stuck.

The oak doors open, and one of the office assistants steps off to the side while holding the door open for several men to walk in. You hear him before you see him. You’ve never heard his voice, but the commanding tone he uses when he addresses your boss lets you know that it must be him.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Mr. Barnes greets him, and you can hear your boss stand and greet him as well.

You’re trying your hardest to keep calm while you walk toward the table with a platter holding several glasses of water. You do your best to place them in front of the men without showing how nervous you are.

But when you get to Mr. Barnes, you nearly spill the drink all over the table once you get a whiff of his clearly expensive cologne. Oh, how you’d love to be surrounded by that scent, the woodsy smell almost intimidates you but you’re unsure as to why you don’t mind.

You’ve never done anything even remotely sexual with a man, you’re far too awkward and anxious in a way that isn’t too appealing to many, but for a very brief moment, you wonder what he looks like underneath the black three-piece suit — the prominent veins on his hands insinuates that the rest of his body is probably just as toned. But you’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts by your boss’ harsh voice calling your name.

“Aren’t you going to greet our guests?”

You breathe in sharply, heat flooding your face as you stumble your way through an apology and a polite “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

You’re about to leave his side when he reaches out to grasp your hand — surprisingly gentle for such a powerful man. With a slight jump, you glance over to your boss who’s staring at you as though you’re becoming a nuisance and should quickly get back to your chair beside his. But you can’t, both because of Mr. Barnes’ hold and the fact that when you look back at the man in front of you his ocean-blue eyes pull you in, and you’re unable to break your gaze.

“And who might you be, darling?” His eyes twinkle with mischief but you’re too blind to see it, you’re too flustered to really focus.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about her, she’s just –”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mr. Barnes snaps, briefly glancing at your boss and not bothering to hide his smirk when he almost visibly cowers. “Now, darling,” he continues, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “What’s your name?”

You nearly squeak, having to force yourself to tell him your name before he gets upset with your lack of answer.

Mr. Barnes hums, then brings your hand up so he can place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You flounder for a moment, unsure as to what to make of the compliment. You don’t have much time to overthink it because this meeting has a time limit and you’re sure your boss would prefer to get this over with.

“Th-Thank you, sir.” You’re not sure why, but your voice is breathy because something about that word — sir — just feels right for him, though you’re not sure what it means.

“So polite,” He mumbles to himself, and his eyes seem to grow darker. Finally, he lets you go, shooting you a wink and smirking to himself when you scurry off to sit next to your boss.

The presentation went relatively smoothly — thank God. You don’t know what you would have done if anything went wrong. In fact, Mr. Barnes seemed extremely invested in what you had to say, catching your gaze several times and causing you to stumble over your words a few times, only for your boss to clear his throat and glare at you. Eventually, Mr. Barnes throws him his own glare, silently telling him to shut up, to which your boss finally does.

Once the meeting was declared to be over, you were quick to close your notebook and tuck your pen behind your ear, then you went around the table and started collecting the now-empty glasses. As you’re running around the room trying to clean up, you can feel a powerful gaze boring holes into your body, but you try not to pay it any mind. It’s probably just your boss anyway.

But when you turn away from the desk to finally leave, you bump into Mr. Barnes, your body nearly slamming into his very sturdy chest. His hands shoot to your hips almost immediately, helping to steady yourself.

The warmth of his body pulls you in, but that might also be because Mr. Barnes is literally bringing you closer to his chest by the hold he has on your hips. And that’s when you realize that your hands are clutching his shoulders, but you can’t find it in you to let go.

“What’s the rush?” He asks playfully, his upper lip quirking up in a smirk. “You’re running around like a little bunny.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes.” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, you recognize that he’s just teasing, but something in you doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

“Mr. Barnes.” He hums, his eyes briefly glancing down to your lips. “I like it when you call me that.”

Now you’re really flustered, your face heats up and you have to do everything in your power not to faint — the way his voice deepens is doing something to you and you don’t know how to handle it.

“I’d like it a lot more if you called me James, though. Can you do that for me, bunny?” 

“Ye-Yes, James.” You might have been embarrassed about how quick you were to answer him, but the way he closes his eyes and tightens the hold he has on your body you’re thinking it was the right decision.

Mr. Barnes — James — opens his mouth again, but is interrupted by the door being opened by one of the office assistants, whose eyes immediately go wide in shock. It seems to take a second for her to gather her bearings, but she recovers soon enough.

“Mr. Walker is requesting you,” She tells you, glancing over at James and giving him a nervous smile. “He says you have to file all of the paperwork for the meeting.”

You sigh, you’re tired of having to do everything for your boss only for him to take credit ninety percent of the time. But, it’s what you’re paid to do, so you suck it up. 

Looking back to James, you give him a shy smile, reluctantly removing your hands from his shoulders. 

“Um, I guess I should go, James.” You’re a little sad, and you don’t quite know why having to leave him and go back to your duties makes you so anxious. It could be because Mr. Walker is mean, or maybe because James makes you feel safe. In reality, it’s probably a mixture of both.

“I guess you should,” He murmurs, removing one of his large hands from your waist so he can cup the back of your neck and pull you closer, only for him to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

And absolutely no one can blame you for the quiet whimper that leaves your lips, even though you are surprised by your reaction. It doesn’t matter though, because he finally moves back, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket so he can pull out what looks like a business card.

“Here,” James says, handing it to you. “In case you ever want to talk, you’re always free to call me.”

“What would we talk about?” Your confusion causes James to chuckle, and he seems amused by your naivety.

“Whatever you want, Bunny. Whether you just want to talk about nonsense or vent about your boss. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to hear your beautiful voice.”

With that, he gives you a wink, then turns to the door and leaves, though he does glance back at you. With one final smile, he leaves, and you’re left with a million racing thoughts while standing in the middle of the meeting room.

It took three days for you to finally reach out to James. As soon as you got home that night you ran to your bedroom and added his number to your phone, going so far as to put his business card in your bedside table drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. It just took a little time to gain the courage to actually contact him. After all, what if he was just being friendly? You’ve never met anyone quite like him, so it’s hard to read into his actions.

But today had gone horribly. The café you frequent before work was so busy that you didn’t have time to grab your coffee without being extremely late, the bistro you were demanded to pick up lunch from was closed — and while it wasn’t your fault, Mr. Walker certainly seemed to think it was. Your workload was piled high and by the end of the day, you were on the verge of crying due to the stress and mean comments thrown at you by your boss.

You need a shoulder to lean on and, unfortunately for you, you don’t have anyone else to go to. You’re pretty sure your roommates hate you and only let you live with them because they haven’t found a new roommate yet, you don’t have siblings and your parents are states away, and you have maybe a few friends, but even then the communication is scarce.

You need a shoulder to lean on, and James offered his, so you finally decided to pull up his contact and start a new message. It takes several minutes to figure out what to say, but you eventually settle on something simple.

Hi, James. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Mr. Walker’s assistant. You gave me your number in case I ever wanted to talk.

You hit send and stare down at your phone anxiously as you wait for a reply. A minute goes by, then two, suddenly five, and then you’re starting to regret texting him, what if he doesn’t remember you? What if he’s busy? What if – 

Your phone starts ringing, James’ name popping up on the screen and taunting you — almost commanding you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, bunny,” James says softly, and if you press your ear close enough to your phone you could pretend that he’s right next to you.

“Hi, James. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Your voice is soft and timid, you’d hate to disrupt anything he’s doing.

“Don’t be silly, bunny,” He says, his smile evident in his tone. “I always have time for you.”

“Oh, um. Thank you, sir.” It’s almost indescribable, but you can just make out the soft curse James lets out, followed by some shuffling.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

You’re a little apprehensive, but with James’ gentle encouragement, you’re able to get everything off your chest, complaining about your day and everything that went wrong. Each word spoken feels like weights lifting off of your shoulders, allowing you to breathe easier every time James hums. He doesn’t interrupt you, which you greatly appreciate, and by the time you’re done, you fall backward onto your bed, relieved.

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day, bunny,” James coos with his smooth-as-honey voice, filling your body with warmth and comfort. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.” That comment floods your face with heat and you shuffle up the bed to lean against the headboard.

“Oh, I - thank you, sir.” There it is again, sir. James exhales slowly as though he’s trying to control himself from doing something he shouldn’t, and part of you is momentarily worried that you’ve upset him somehow. You don’t want to disappoint him.

“What can I do to help?”

What can he do to help? You’re not quite sure, you’re not sad, and you’re not angry, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t need at least a hug right now. But, it would be too imposing to ask, right? There’s no way he would be willing to come over – that is, if your roommates would even allow him over. And he certainly wouldn’t invite a stranger into his house. So, you lie to him.

“Oh – Oh, no, James, I don’t – you don’t have to – it’s fine –”

“Bunny.”

Your mouth promptly closes, taking a deep breath through your nose and exhaling slowly.

“Sorry, James.”

“Don’t be sorry, bunny.” There’s some shuffling in the background as he talks and you can’t help but sigh at how sincere his voice is. “Now, what can I do to help?” And before you can even open your mouth he’s talking again, “Don’t say nothing, because I know there’s something you want.”

You’re silent for a moment, stewing over how to tell him. But, he’ll probably just be empathetic and say something along the lines of ‘I’d hug you if I were there right now’. So, you decide to just spit it out.

“I guess I just want… I just need a hug, I think,” You sigh, feeling a sudden sense of loneliness. It’s hard not having anyone to talk to, to be isolated even from the people you live with, to be put down time and time again, and not have anyone to support you.

“Where are you?” James asks, and you hear some more shuffling in the background, followed by the jingling of what sounds like keys.

“I’m at my apartment,” You say, confused. He couldn’t possibly be coming over, could he?

“Send me your address and I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go out for ice cream,” James says decisively, and you can tell he doesn’t want any protesting. “Bunny,” He says when you don’t say anything. “You need cheering up and I’m here to do just that. Please send me your address.” He speaks gently but once again, he doesn’t seem to want you to argue against it.

“O-Okay, I will.”

“Good, I’ll see you soon, bunny.” When you bid him goodbye, he hangs up, and you’re quick to send him your address, giving him instructions to text you when he arrives so you can meet him out front of the building.

During the next twenty or so minutes you’re practically running around your room trying to make yourself look presentable. You cried all of your makeup off so you opt to just wash the rest of it off, and then you pull your hair back and away from your face. It takes a bit to decide what to wear, after all this is just a friend taking another friend to get ice cream, but this is also James Barnes; he has more wealth than you could possibly imagine. You want to impress him and appear grateful for his friendliness, and looking at least half-decent would achieve that.

Finally, someone knocks on your door, yelling, “Someone’s here for you!”

With a rush of excitement, you grab your phone and wallet and slip on your shoes, then make your way out of your room to the front door where another roommate is standing in front of it, leaning against the frame and giggling at the person.

James.

He looks bored, almost like he’s trying to appear interested but can’t quite muster up the energy to do so. When you approach, he lifts his head, a wide smile crossing his face.

“There’s my little bunny,” He says confidently, completely ignoring your annoyed roommate. “Come on, let’s get you cheered up.”

With that you walk to him, timidly accepting his outstretched hand and letting him gently tug you into the hallway. When you turn around to tell your roommate that you’ll be back later you can’t even get a word out before you see her glaring at you and shutting the door — the click of the lock is audible through the empty hallway.

“Are they always like that?” James asks with a tone that conveys concern.

“Like what?” You know what he’s talking about, but you hate acknowledging it.

“Rude and disrespectful.” He is so blunt that it causes you to look down in embarrassment to avoid his intense gaze.

Yes, you want to say, they’re awful. You want to shout from the rooftops that your roommates are horrible to you, but you’re just too scared to do it.

“Oh – Oh, no, they’re just…” You trail off, peeking up at James to see the disbelief in his eyes. When you look down again, he brings up one of his hands to cup your cheek and guide your head up so you can look at him head-on.

“You don’t need to lie to me, bunny. I want you to trust me.” James sighs, leaning forward and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Come on,” He squeezes your hand, smiling softly at you as he starts walking you out of the building and to his car.

It doesn’t take long to get to the ice cream shop, only a five-minute drive, and when you get there James keeps the car locked as he gets out so he can circle around to your side and open your door for you.

“Th-Thank you,” You say as you put your hand in James’ outstretched one, letting him guide you out of the car. He keeps his hold on your hand as you walk into the shop, going so far as to thread your fingers together while you wait in line.

The image of your hand encompassed by James’ large tattooed one has your tummy fluttering with butterflies. But, you must have been staring for a little too long because you’re broken out of your trance by James gently squeezing your hand.

“Is this okay, bunny?”

“Yes!” Heat floods your face as soon as you say it, feeling embarrassed by how quick you were to answer. “I, I mean. Um… Yes, it’s okay.”

James smirks at you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. But, before you can stew in your shame, the man behind the counter says, “Next!”

You walk up to the counter, letting James order before giving yours. And when it’s time to pay, James doesn’t even drop your hand while he fishes his wallet out of his pocket and takes out his card. Your tummy flutters once again.

“Come, bunny.”

With your desserts now in hand, James leads you to a corner booth, only letting go of your hand so you can scoot in. He sits across from you, looking at you with what can only be described as thinly veiled hunger. It’s not off-putting, you just don’t know what it means.

“So, um…” You trail off looking down at your bowl of ice cream, fiddling with the spoon they gave you.

“You don’t need to be nervous, bunny,” James coos, reaching over and placing his hand palm up on the table, and you’re helpless but to take it, practically aching to feel his warmth again. “Now, other than everything that happened today, how have you been?”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into a pleasant conversation with him, he asks questions and lets you finish talking before adding his own input, and he doesn’t break eye contact. It feels like he’s really listening to what you’re saying, and it’s almost freeing to have someone in your corner, someone you can trust and depend on.

What feels like far too soon, though has probably been several hours due to how dark it is outside, the man behind the counter comes to your table to tell you that they’re closing soon, and you can’t help but be sad. You’re enjoying James’ company far more than you probably should since you’ve only known him for a handful of days. It almost seems like you’ve known him your whole life.

“Well, bunny. I guess it’s time to go,” James says remorsefully, getting up out of the booth and reaching out his hand to help you out of the booth as well. He keeps holding your hand while you walk out of the door — making sure to throw away your trash on the way out.

James insists on opening the car door for you again — ever the gentleman. There’s a comfortable silence on the drive back to your apartment, your stomach swirling the entire time because James refuses to drop your hand. But when you get to your apartment building, a small amount of anxiety settles inside you, and you’re desperately hoping your roommates are asleep because you don’t feel like dealing with them after you’ve had such a good evening.

The silence is a little more tense while you ride the elevator up to your floor, but you’re grounded by James’ touch. It’s not until you get to your front door that you really look at him, staring into his twinkling eyes. And when he smiles, it settles your nerves.

“I guess this is the end of our night, bunny,” He says, squeezing your hand one last time before dropping it. Before you can mourn the loss of his touch he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close to his chest, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hear the squeak you let out. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting James tuck your face into his neck while he holds you close.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” James murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Me too,” You say softly, breathing in and inhaling his comforting scent. “Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Of course, bunny. I’m always here for you.” Then, James pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Always.”

You can’t help but smile. His gaze is hypnotizing, pulling you in and almost refusing to let you go.

“Thank you, James,” You breathe out, and one last time, James squeezes you and kisses your forehead, then steps back.

“I’ll talk to you soon, bunny?” James asks, smiling wide.

“Y–Yeah, I’ll text you. Or you can text me. Or call, that’s–that’s fine too.” Heat floods your face in embarrassment, but you don’t feel too bad about it because James only smiles wider, nodding once.

“I will.”

“Goodnight, James.” With that, you turn and unlock your door, turning around to look at James one last time as you shut the door.

“Goodnight bunny, I hope you have dreams as sweet as you are.” James winks, and you swear you can hear him chuckle when you squeak out an “o-okay,” and shut the door.

And maybe James is some kind of wizard because you have the best night of sleep you’ve had in a while.

For the next few weeks you and James text almost every day, and talk on the phone every couple of days. You’ve met up with him a few times as well, accepting his invitations to lunch or coffee. Each outing would last for several hours, too enraptured by his… everything to be the one to suggest the night should end. You’ve come to trust him, you know with a possibly concerning amount of certainty that James would do everything possible to keep you happy and safe.

Roughly a month and a half after meeting James, you’re sitting on your bed in the same position you were in when you first called him crying. Unlike last time, though, you don’t hesitate to call him. He’s told you time and time again that it doesn’t even matter if he’s in a meeting, he’ll always make time for you. You just hope that’s true.

He picks up almost immediately.

“Hello, bunny,” James says with the same soft tone he always uses when talking to you.

“H-hi, James,” You manage to say, before breaking out into sobs. You’re nearly hyperventilating, trying and failing to catch your breath between hiccups, and it takes a few minutes to calm down enough to hear rustling in the background on James’ end.

“Are you at home?” He asks with the utmost concern.

“Ye-Yes.”

“Stay there,” He says, using what you’ve deemed his CEO voice. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Ja–”

“Bunny.”

You sigh, knowing you can’t change his mind – not that you really want him to. You could really benefit from a hug right about now and James always provides the best ones.

“Can you at least stay on the phone with me?” Your voice is small, still sniffling every few words. You don’t think you could handle being alone with your own thoughts right now.

“Of course. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

It takes James twenty minutes to get to you, and he talks to you the whole time, just menial things to get your mind off of your sadness. When he lets you know that he’s at your apartment, you don’t even wait for him to tell you he’s coming up, you simply grab your jacket and slip on your shoes, then run to the front door without so much as a word to your roommates in the living room.

“James!” Upon seeing the man himself standing next to his car, you fling yourself into his arms, taking deep breaths to prevent yourself from crying in public. “Thank you for coming.”

“Bunny, how many times do I have to tell you that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep a smile on your pretty face?” James’ tone is teasing, but you know he’s serious if his stern and concerned gaze is anything to go by.

You nod, blinking back tears. It’s so nice to have a friend like James Barnes; kind, chivalrous, attentive. With the way he acts sometimes, you’d almost think he’s interested in more than friendship, but you always shake that thought off. He’s too handsome and wealthy to date some random personal assistant who’s barely able to make her rent.

“Come on, bunny,” James moves back but keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, leading you to his car and helping you in. Like always, he waits for you to sit so he can strap you in your seatbelt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before shutting the door then running around to the driver's seat.

This time, instead of taking a left at the light at the end of your block, he keeps going forward, taking turns until you’re not exactly sure where you are.

“Um, where are we going?”

“My house,” James says casually, briefly glancing at you so he can give you that ever-soft smile.

“But, isn’t your house only twenty minutes away?” You’re confused, and a little curious as to what he’s talking about.

“I only stay there when I have meetings in the city. I have a house a little further out where I live most of the time. It’s a little more lived-in, so I want to bring you there where you’ll feel a little more…” James pauses for a moment, glancing at you again. “At home.” His explanation makes sense in your brain, quickly squashing any nerves that you had. He’s rich, so of course he’d have multiple houses.

It’s almost an hour long drive to get to his house. Well, house feels like an inappropriate term for what it actually is. It’s more like a mansion, standing tall at three stories, a long driveway with trees lining either side of the road, and a luscious garden surrounding the property.

James helps you out of the car and guides you up the steps to the front door, where he unlocks it and lets you step inside. The moment you pass through the threshold your jaw nearly drops to the floor; a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling right when you step in and beautiful artwork adorns the walls. The open floor plan gives you a good view of the living room and kitchen from your vantage point, and you can’t wait to sink into the luxurious and almost comically large couch in front of the TV.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” James urges you further in, bringing you to the living room.

“Um, just water is fine.” You look up at him, smiling shyly and nearly tripping when he smiles back.

“I’ll be right back,” James says, watching as you sit and sink into the plush couch. “Make yourself at home.” The look in his eyes when he says it sparks something inside you, something warm and fuzzy. Thinking of James’ house as your home makes your tummy flutter, but you don’t understand why.

God, you need to get it together.

You’re left alone for a moment, and everything is quiet except for the fridge opening and the glasses clinking. James’ absence allows you a moment to breathe properly, being with him always leaves you flustered, though you can’t deny that some part of you likes it. You like his commanding nature, how deep his voice gets when he talks passionately about something, how warm his embrace is when he holds you for what might be a little too long, squeezing you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“Here you go, bunny.” Suddenly, a glass of water appears in front of you, and you take it with a gracious smile and a small “thank you.”

“So,” He says, sitting next to you — really close — and throwing his arm over your shoulders, practically pulling you into his lap. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes, suddenly remembering how horrible today was. You force yourself to take a couple of sips of your glass but your hand starts shaking enough to where James takes your glass and sets it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Bunny—“

His soft voice causes you to start crying, throwing yourself into his chest and burying your face in his neck as you sob out your troubles. James’ hand is warm on your back, rubbing it soothingly and squeezing you close to him. This time, he actually pulls you in his lap, you’re grasping the front of his sweater while he maneuvers your body so you’re straddling his thighs, and you can’t help but scoot closer so you’re sitting on him properly with your body flush against his.

A few minutes of crying later and your tears have finally slowed, your sobs deforming into hiccups until you calm down enough to hear James cooing into your ear, whispering sweet nothings. When you finally catch your breath, you pull back, staring up at James with wide eyes and a pout.

“I-I… I was fired! Fired! And I don’t know what I’m going to do! Mr. Walker just tossed me to the side because a document went missing and he blamed me, and now I’m jobless and my roommates are definitely going to kick me out because I can barely make my rent as it is. What am I going to do?”

James sighs, rubbing one hand up and down your back and keeping his other on your waist, though they manage to sneak up your shirt a little without your notice.

“I’m sorry, bunny,” He starts, giving you a comforting smile. “It’s awful that happened to you, and it’s not your fault, so don’t go blaming yourself like I know you want to.”

Your face goes warm with embarrassment. How is he able to read you so easily?

“And as far as your living situation, you’ll move in with me.”

“James!” Your eyebrows furrow, your head automatically shaking. “No, no I can’t do that to you. I don’t have a job anymore and I definitely can’t afford to pay you rent, I-I can’t burden you like that.” Even though it hurts to say it, you want to be honest with him. Because how on Earth are you supposed to pay him back for this?

“You’re not a burden.” You’re surprised by his angry tone, and his eyes darken as though he’s challenging you to say otherwise. “You’ll never be a burden on me, bunny. I’m offering you this, I don’t want you to pay me.”

As though he can sense your hesitation, he gives you a playful smirk.

“But if you really want to help, how about you do the cooking and cleaning? I don’t always get a good home-cooked meal, and it’d be nice to come back from work to see you in a cute little apron.”

This makes you giggle, a weight lifting off your shoulders when you nod timidly. “I-I can do that. I’ll do anything.”

And while you had pure intentions with that statement, James takes it differently, his eyes darkening even further as he nibbles at his bottom lip.

“Anything?” He smirks wider when you nod eagerly because that’s what you are. Always eager to please — especially please James.

“Yes, anything!”

James hums, seemingly thinking something over, before sliding one of his hands up the back of your shirt.

“How about you give me a kiss? I haven’t had a good one in a while,” While he sounds like he’s teasing, his face shows he’s anything but.

He really wants you to kiss him. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to deny him, you’re too grateful for his generosity. Plus, you’d be insane to pass up such an opportunity, he’s handsome, kind, and makes you feel safe. So, with only a little hesitation, you lean down and press your lips against his in a simple peck, but before you can pull away James groans, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you steady.

His lips practically attack yours, his tongue invading your mouth and taking what it wants – you. You don’t even know it but you’re whimpering almost immediately, opening your mouth and letting James consume you whole. He’s smiling against your lips, biting your bottom lip as he retreats for a moment so he can stare up into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny,” James whispers reverently like he’s hypnotized. And he’s not the only one. Your brain is quickly going silent, your sole focus is on James and how good he’s making you feel.

“Really?”

“So beautiful, I’ve always thought so.” His confession makes you whine, he thinks you’re beautiful, this gorgeous man with the deepest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Suddenly, James curses softly, grabbing your waist under your shirt, and that’s when you realize you’ve started subconsciously moving your hips against his.

“S-Sorry,” You mumble, though you’re not too sorry considering you can’t stop rolling down onto his lap, it feels too good.

“Don’t be.” James hums thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Why don’t we go to my room? It’ll be more comfortable.”

You don’t even wait for him to finish before you start eagerly nodding your head, adjusting your legs as he stands so you can wrap them around his waist. He carries you to his room, smirking to himself the entire time because you can’t stop kissing and biting his neck in the hopes of leaving a mark, staking your claim. When you finally get there, James quickly shuts the door behind him and then drops you down onto the bed.

“Sir,” You whine when he doesn’t do anything, he’s only standing at the end of the bed, staring at you with eyes so dark with lust that you can’t see the blue of them.

“Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll take good care of you.” With that, he swiftly strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, then undoes the button on his pants, slowly dragging down the zipper with a wide smirk at the haze in your eyes. “Do you want to help me?”

It takes a few moments for you to understand what he’s asking of you, but once you do you push yourself up, shuffling over to him until you’re sitting with your legs underneath your butt. For a moment you’re not sure what to do, you reach out for his pants but freeze mid-air because you just now realize that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. You’ve never been in this situation before, your sexual exploits consist of goodnight kisses on the few dates you’ve been on, and your vibrator in your nightstand that has been working overtime ever since you met James.

“I-I’m sorry,” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your features.

“Why are you sorry, bunny?” James’ voice is soft, soothing your worries.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… been with a man before.” Your hands fall to your lap at the same time you hang your head. What if you disappoint him? You don’t know what you’re doing and you’d hate to mess anything up.

“I know, bunny. It’s okay.” James lifts your chin with his fore and middle fingers, guiding you to look at him again. “I’ll teach you everything.” His voice dips lower, his bottom lip getting trapped between his teeth when you smile, relieved.

“Now, I’m going to take off my pants, but I want you to take off my boxers. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly, eyes dropping to his crotch as he begins pulling the denim down, down, down until it pools on the floor. He steps out of them, then steps in front of you with his arms hanging by his side. When he raises his eyebrow, nodding to his underwear, you reach out for him again, this time with only a small amount of hesitation. Your nerves are nearly off the charts, but knowing that James is going to guide you makes you feel better.

Your hands are shaking slightly when you pull them down, and absolutely no one can fault you for the loud gasp you let out when he’s finally bare because holy shit. Despite being relatively anxious and naive surrounding sex, you’ve watched your fair share of porn, and while the men in them did usually have big dicks, they seem small compared to James’.

You’re almost frightened, how the hell is that going to fit inside you? James chuckles, and you realize you probably said that aloud.

“Don’t worry, bunny. I’ll make it fit,” James groans, reaching down to grab the bottom of your shirt. “I’m going to take this off now, okay?” He tugs it up and over your head once you give your consent, tossing it to the side and cursing when he sees the light pink bra barely covering your breasts. James is biting his lip so hard you’re worried he might draw blood, but you don’t pay it any mind because he’s soon urging you to lay on your back with your legs dangling over the edge.

“Gonna take these off too.”

Giving him a shy smile and a nod, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants, glancing up at you one final time to make sure you’re okay before he surprises you by pulling them off of your legs in one swift movement. You’re tugged down the bed a little, a shocked gasp leaving your lips.

“Fucking angelic,” James murmurs, dropping to his knees and placing his large, rough hands on your knees. He smirks when he sees your matching light pink panties, already soaking wet at the crotch. You have to bite your lip to keep from whimpering when he pushes your legs wide apart, but you can’t stop yourself from squirming when he doesn’t do anything else.

“James,” You whine, high-pitched and needy.

“Sir,” He reminds you with a raised eyebrow as though he’s daring you to say his real name again. And just for good measure, he surprises you by lifting up one of his hands and swinging it down onto your clothed pussy in a harsh swat, causing you to let out a loud moan.

“Sir! I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay, little bunny,” James coos as he runs his hands up the back of your thighs so he can push them up and out, letting him get a good look at where you need him most. “Are you going to let me eat your pretty pussy?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know James isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s not like you even want to tell him ‘no’, you’re too desperate for something, anything.

“Y-Yes, sir. Please.” Your begging makes him groan, and he quickly dips forward so he’s not even an inch away from your core, inhaling deeply and cursing again.

With a quick kiss to your covered clit, he twists his fingers into the band of your panties and rips them into pieces, and you know you’ll have marks from it. But you want them, you want evidence of this night, and you’ll gladly take anything he gives you. And no sooner than your panties off do James dive in, inhaling once more before his tongue sneaks out and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

It’s at that point that you know you’re well and truly fucked, because there’s no way you’re not going to become addicted to the feeling of his tongue dipping into your quivering hole, the way he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it into his mouth, the way he groans into your pussy like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

And it doesn’t take long for your legs to start shaking, desperately trying to close around James’ head but not being able to due to his hands gripping your thighs and holding them still. The filthy groans he lets out are enough to make you cum alone, but then he attaches his lips to your clit again and gently bites down, forcing an obscene moan out of your mouth.

He lets you get used to the pleasure, switching between fucking his tongue deep inside you and flicking at your clit, and only when he decides you’re ready does he manage to slide his forefinger in your pussy all the way to the third knuckle.

“Sir!” You can’t help but yell. Yes, it stings, but it’s far outweighed by the pleasure of his tongue assaulting your pulsating nub.

He wastes no time in slowly sliding it in and out, wiggling it around until you whine loudly, letting him know he’s found that special spot. You’re too out of it to realize it but James is smiling, clearly smug at how he’s making you react. You wouldn’t care anyway, in fact, he deserves it. He’s making you feel too good, especially when he slips in his middle finger and spreads them.

“Oh god! Yes, fuck. Sir, yes,” You’re incoherent, blabbering nonsense because your brain is too foggy to form a coherent thought. James picks up the pace, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it as he thrusts his fingers directly at your g-spot.

“Sir! Sir, I-I’m…” As soon as he started, he stopped, pulling out his fingers and leaning back slightly with a wide grin. His chin is coated in your juices, and the gleam in his eyes shows you that you’re not going to be able to cum so easily.

“Not yet, bunny,” James says when you whine pathetically, trying to buck your hips up into his mouth but unable to do so because of his commanding grip now holding your waist. “I’m not letting you cum until I’m inside you.”

James then climbs onto the bed, guiding you upwards to lay your head against the plush pillows so he can lean over your body. With little preamble, he snakes his arms around your back to quickly unclasp your bra and allow your breasts to spill free.

“I can’t wait to watch these bounce,” James groans, palming one of them, twisting and pinching at your nipple. James just laughs when you hiss, because your soaked pussy is enough to tell him that you’re loving what he’s doing. 

“Bunny.” He says gruffly, and your eyes shoot up to meet his, though you can hardly see him because your vision is hazy, nothing matters except James. “Are you ready?”

You’re barely able to mumble ‘yes’, but you manage to do so, and James takes that as his cue to grasp the base of his cock and position it at your entrance. He places his other hand on your neck, lightly squeezing the sides to keep your eyes locked on his.

The pressure against your hole is immense, James telling you to breathe as he slowly pushes deeper. He stops about halfway through, giving you a moment for the pain to fade. He’s clearly having a hard time staying still but is cognizant enough to know you’re overwhelmed. It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before you finally nod, silently letting him know that he can move. And he does, pushing in all the way until his hips are flush with yours. Once again, he stills, leaning down to brush his lips over your cheeks and catch the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

“H-Hurts, sir,” You whimper out, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him. And while your core is burning, James looks so damn proud that you’re taking him that it pushes away any discomfort.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Even though you’re in mild pain you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he pulls out, you need everything he can give you. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, bunny,” James coos, then tightens his grip around your neck ever so slightly. “I’ll give you what you need.” And as though a switch was flipped, James pulls back, pausing for half a second before thrusting forward.

“Ahhh!” Your mouth drops open as you scream, your arms coming up to claw at James’ shoulders and back as he gives you all he has.

And he has a lot to give. He puts his back into fucking you, keeping one hand around your neck and using his other arm to pull your left leg over his shoulder. Sweat beads at your hairline, your eyes stinging with tears, your whole body lit on fire. At this moment, nothing matters except the delicious burn between your legs, the way your body is shoved further up the bed with each of James’ powerful thrusts until it gets to the point where he has to place the hand around your leg on the headboard to steady you.

“Fuck, bunny, you feel so good. You’re so good for me.” James can’t stop mumbling praises, and even though you can’t really hear them, you feel them. Your eyes don’t move from his, even as he glances down to where your bodies are joined. “Fuck, little bunny. Your pussy looks so good stuffed full of my cock, knew you’d take me so well.”

“S-Sir,” You whimper, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts and digging your nails into his skin. But James doesn’t seem to mind if the way his whole body shudders and his hips slightly lose their rhythm is anything to go by.

“Are you gonna be a good little bunny and cum for me?” James moves his gaze back up to your face, chuckling when he sees how fucked-out you already are. Despite his hand still around your neck you manage to nod, little cries and whines escaping into the air every time James’ cock gets shoved against your cervix.

“Yeah, you are,” James continues, leaning over your body even more and shifting so the tip of his dick hits your spot with every thrust. “You’re going to squirt all over my cock so I can cum deep in your cunt. Gonna cum in you every day, keep you full of me, maybe even plug you up to make sure it sticks.”

You’re right there, your pleasure climbing higher and higher until you’re ready to fall off the edge. James’s next sentence sends you there.

“Fuck, bunny. You’re going to be the perfect little mommy to all the children I’m gonna give you.”

When you wake up, James will tell you about how you came so hard that you blacked out, squirting and gushing around his cock while he continued telling you how even more beautiful you’ll be when you’re pregnant, taking care of him and his home, how he knew you were the one for him from the moment he first saw you. Your things will already be moved into his house. New clothes chosen specifically for you will be hung up in his closet and the bathroom will be adjusted to fit your products. The kitchen is going to be filled with all the food you like. And your cat will be curled up in a miniature hammock in her very own room.

When you wake up, you’ll see how much thought James put into redecorating his home just for you.

And you’ll be too grateful for his kindness to question where he put your birth control.

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @goldylions / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart / @buckysprettybaby / @sushiseoks / @heytheredelulu / @somnorvos / @ozwriterchick / @pxgeturner / @gentlelimerence

bucky taglist: @justsebstan / @myfavbuckyfics

[ngdrb]

Elon Musk is a piece of shit just like EVERY other RepubliKKKan!!!!!

BREAKING: MAGA billionaire Elon Musk picks a fight with a respected commander of the International Space Station and calls him "retarded" after he exposed Musk for a bold-faced lie.

This is who Trump has entrusted with running our government...

It all started when Andreas Mogensen, the Danish astronaut in question, reacted to a clip on X of Musk telling Fox News propagandist Sean Hannity that he plans to "rescue" two astronauts who were "left up there" in space "for political reasons."

Mogensen shared the clip and wrote: "What a lie. And from someone who complains about lack of honesty from the mainstream media."

Musk quickly reacted to the tweet, lashing out with the sort of childish insults that we have come to expect from the allegedly ketamine-addicted oligarch—

"You are fully retarded," wrote Musk. "SpaceX could have brought them back several months ago. I OFFERED THIS DIRECTLY to the Biden administration and they refused. Return WAS pushed back for political reasons. Idiot."

As usual Musk provided no evidence for his inflammatory claims. Mogensen then responded with the grace and articulation that Musk seems pathologically incapable of—

"Elon, I have long admired you and what you have accomplished, especially at SpaceX and Tesla," wrote the astronaut. "You know as well as I do, that Butch and Suni are returning with Crew-9, as has been the plan since last September. Even now, you are not sending up a rescue ship to bring them home. They are returning on the Dragon capsule that has been on ISS since last September."

Tellingly, Musk didn't respond to the potent rebuttal. Instead, he responded to another post from Dr. Phil Metzger — Director of the Stephen W. Hawking Center for Microgravity Research & Education — remarking on the hostile exchange.

In it, Musk smeared Mogensen as a "so-called 'Commander'" who "doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground."

"Dude has no clue what’s really going on. He’s a passenger," Musk added.

That's all Elon has: insults and rage.

It's also worth noting that shortly after the feud broke out, the billionaire tweeted out a call for the "deorbiting" of the International Space Station because "it has served its purpose" and "there is very little incremental utility."

It's difficult to interpret the outburst as anything other than attempt at exacting revenge on Mogensen for publicly embarrassing him.

Elon is a petty, vindictive man with zero impulse control. The fact that he is now running roughshod over our government, gutting crucial programs, and lining his pockets with our tax dollars is an utter disgrace.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

More headcanons bc I’m alone on new years

(Yes precrisis Dick became nightwing at 19 but too much shit happens and I mix timelines DONT YELL AT ME)

But I love the idea that Dick was just pint sized for all of his Robin run. Like he’s an acrobat we can fully utilize the fact he was mid waist sized for nearly every adult he interacted with until he was like 16-17.

Late bloomer Dick Grayson who can pass for 12 at 15

And then him and Bruce fight and Dick becomes nightwing and all that jazz

And finally FINALLY his growth spurt hits and he drops the baby fat and all that in like 4 months.

And then he becomes nightwing

And he went from like 4’0-4’10 during his whole Robin run and now he’s cresting at 6’0

And living with Wally means that the boy EATS SO MUCH VERY FAST bc u snooze you lose

So he packs on the pounds and skips that awkward gangly stage and all the adorable lil baby fat on his face is sacrificed to the puberty gods in exchange for a sharp jawline and sharper cheekbones

And the titans and the league don’t rlly get along in the early years so we can assume the only person from the league dick has seen or spoken to is Clark

And then they meet again

And the justice leagues BABY is now a like a full grown man

Like he’s GROWN

And Bruce is going through a crisis bc yeah he’s not dicks dad according to dick but he watched him grow up, he raised him?

He was there for every play, show, report card, every doctors appointment and his boy was so small

And now Dick his tiny little Robin is well he’s damn near Bruce’s height?

He somehow turned around and missed his boy becoming a man

He might not be Dicks dad but Dick is definitely his kid

And his kid isn’t a kid anymore?

And then there’s the voice??

Because sure nightwing jokes around all the time but in comparison to the lil bobbin Robin with his “HOLY ——- BATMAN” and his bad puns and his habit of bat-ifying literally everything in existence

But when he’s in charge?

Of a team?

When he’s given responsibility

Yeah no he’s calm, commanding and authoritative. He’s who everyone in the titans looks to for orders even if it means turning their back on the bat.

And yeah?

He’s proud, so so proud of the amazing man Dick grew into both because and despite of him.

But hes also in misery because he feels like he missed that. He wasn’t standing by Dick through that. How could he be when Dick is too hurt to call and Bruce is too scared to ruin things by calling?

Dick Grayson was always his greatest pride and joy, his biggest achievement and now… his boy doesn’t need him anymore

Then Jason comes back

And he’s bigger and meaner and angrier than all hell and Bruce wonders if he’s cursed to never watch his boys grow up.

(Thank god Tim refuses to get taller)

-I am working on a fic for this but I am a bad writer so if anyone has recs plz donations

[ponderingmoonlight]

Basen hating kissing the hell out of you

Pairing: Basen x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: That General who is so full of himself, who never misses a chance to put you into your place. And you? A hot-headed nurse with outstanding tactical abilities and a big mouth. What can possibly go wrong?

Warnings: enemies to lovers y'all, why is it always the side characters on this blog 😭 language, injuries, heated kisses hehehe

You never thought you’d end up here - stuck in the middle of the Imperial Palace’s tangled web, tasked with not only saving lives but also becoming a strategic advisor in matters of war. Did you even dare to dream of taking in this role at the palace?

Not once.

Despite being the head nurse of the Imperial Army’s medical corps, your knowledge stretches far beyond medical healing. You’ve studied the anatomy of war, how to break down the enemy’s tactics, and how to keep the army fighting even when the odds seem overwhelming.

After all, your father was a general himself before he found his own end on the battlefield, leaving you behind with nothing but the knowledge you’ve gained from his mission reports and books.

To be honest, the anatomy of the body and war never differed that much to you anyway. It took you no effort to catch attention by the medical corps of the Imperial Palace by a very young age, to outshine even some of the doctors and Generals with your expertise.

But Gao Basen, the General of the imperial forces, refuses to acknowledge any of this.It’s not that he’s rude. No, Basen is far too well-mannered for that. He simply doesn’t take you seriously.

To him, you’re just a nurse, someone to bandage wounds, prepare medicines, and keep the soldiers on his trenches alive. The fact that you have a better understanding of battlefield strategy than most generals seems lost on him.

Every time you try to offer a suggestion, he dismisses it with a wave of his hand.

“Stay out of this, nurse,” he barked at you during one of the many operations you’ve been forced to collaborate on.

His tone wasn’t unkind, but it carried that arrogance that made you want to punch him in his oh so perfectly-shaped face.

“Leave the tactics to us.”

That was before the rebellion reached its peak, though. Now, the battlefield is everywhere - the palace, the streets, even the walls of the very city you swore to protect. The emperor’s will is being challenged, and General Gao Basen is leading the charge.

Well, at least he thinks he does.

The first real test of your worth comes when the emperor orders a new assault on a rebel refuge. The battle is expected to be brutal, and the medical corps is rushing to prepare under your command.

But even in the chaos, you’re needed beyond your station. You, who can read a battlefield like a map, who understands how to turn the tides of war by just knowing where to place your forces and where to strike, are called in to offer strategy.

Oh, you know a certain someone who will be absolutely fuming about this.

“You’ve all seen the plan,” Jinshi states, voice cool and collected, his eyes flicking between the generals and advisors gathered around the table.

“But we have little time. I’d like to hear your thoughts, head nurse.”

You take your place at the table, your gaze meeting Basen’s across the room while you’re barely able to hold yourself together. He looks at you, his face unreadable, but his posture stiffens ever so slightly. It’s as if he’s already decided you don’t belong here, as if the sheer fact that you breathe the same air as him almost drives him over the edge.

What a sight.

Ignoring him with that feeling of satisfaction filling you to the brim, you pull a map towards you, running your finger along the terrain.

“We need to utilize the terrain to our advantage,” you begin, your voice steady and confident.

“The rebels have set up in the valley, but there are high ground positions on the left and right. We could use those as staging points for a two-branched attack while simultaneously sending a smaller unit to flank from behind.”

One of the generals gives a soft grunt of approval. Except for Basen, everyone silently acknowledged you a long time ago.

“But what about the cavalry?”

“That’s where we’ll hit them hardest,” you respond quickly, already sketching the next steps on the map.

“The cavalry has been spread too thin. A concentrated effort here”, you point to a key point on the map, “will take them out before they can reinforce.”

For a moment, there is silence. You’re aware of Basen’s gaze on you, the sharpness of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens. You know he doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like you in the war room at all. You, a feisty woman, nothing but a nurse in his eyes. But the others are nodding, murmuring their agreement. Even Gao Shun, the general who raised Basen, looks at the map thoughtfully, his hands resting on the table.

“This could work,” he remarks gruffly.

“But what if the enemy has hidden reserves?”

You smile a little, the answer already forming in your mind. As if you didn’t already think about that beforehand.

“We keep a unit in reserve, hidden by the eastern ridge. If we’re caught in a trap, they can flank and assist us from behind.”

Finally, Basen speaks, his voice cold and cutting.

“You’ve had a lot to say for a nurse. I’ll admit, you know your battlefield tactics, but I’m still in charge of the military strategy.”

You don’t flinch, even though his words sting. After all these years of assisting him while watching him take on the role of a General, this is everything he has to say about you?

“I’m simply offering suggestions, General Gao Basen,” you remark, your tone calm and composed.

“I don’t need your approval.”

Thick anger rises up your veins before you can stop it.Who does he think he is? That son of a high-ranked General who never had to work as hard as you. What does he know about you, your status, your abilities?

A long silence follows before Jinshi speaks up, his voice laced with amusement.

“It seems we’re in agreement. Let’s put it into action.” 

The battle rages on in your pounding ears. The rebel forces are relentless, and the wounded are going to the roof. As the battle shifts in your favor, the injured flood in, and you’re forced to treat one soldier after another, your hands moving quickly, efficiently, but your mind on edge. You can feel the heat of the conflict seeping into the very walls of the palace - this is more than just a rebellion now. It’s a war for survival.

In the midst of the chaos, Basen is everywhere. His presence is a force of nature on the battlefield, his commanding voice cutting through the fog of war and the walls of your tent. You can’t help but peak through the curtains, to watch him from afar.

That smug bastard. He moves with precision, taking down rebels and barking orders, his form a living testament to his father’s iron rule.

But even someone like Basen can be overwhelmed.

You’re in the middle of stitching a soldier’s gash when you hear it - a scream, followed by the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the ground. Your heart skips a beat, and your eyes snap to the scene unfolding before you.

There he is.

Basen, bloodied, injured, and holding his side where a deep wound has opened. He’s trying to walk, but the blood pouring from him makes it clear he can’t keep going much longer. His men rush to help him, but he punches them away, his teeth gritted in pain.

You barely register the distance between you before you're already on the move, pushing through the chaos to reach him out of instinct.

“Basen!” you shout, voice cutting through the noise.

He looks at you with cold, narrowed eyes.

“I don’t need your help. And it’s General Gao Basen to you,” he grunts, his voice a low snarl as he stumbles slightly, trying to steady himself.

You ignore the words, rushing to him and pulling him toward the nearest medical station.

“You’re bleeding out, Basen! Let me treat you, idiot!”

Your hands are already at his side, but he jerks back, glaring at you with all the stubbornness and pride you’ve come to expect from him.

“I told you,” he snaps, voice sharp as a whip, “I don’t need a nurse to patch me up. I’m not some weakling who needs tending to. And if you call your General an idiot one more time, I’ll make sure you’ll get punished.”

His refusal and harsh words sting like they usually do, but you don’t let it show. Not now, not when he might bleed out in front of your very own eyes if you continue standing there.

“You’ll die if I don’t treat you, Basen!” you reply, frustration boiling over, your hands gripping his arm to keep him in place.

He recoils violently, his face flushed with anger.

“I don’t need you to save me,” he growls, his breath ragged.

“You think I care about your medicines and bandages? You think I’m some soldier who needs to be babysat?”

“Stop acting like a damn fool!”

The words fly out before you can stop them, the tension that’s been building between you both finally snapping.

“You’re not unshakable, Basen. You can’t fight everything on your own.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to walk away again. But instead, he takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. His eyes flicker with something dark, something intense, before he takes a step closer to you.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous.

“To always be expected to be perfect. To always have people looking to you for answers. To be the one everyone depends on and never let down. I can’t… I won’t be weak.”

The raw emotion in his voice hits you harder than you expect. You take a step forward, your hand reaching out almost instinctively to touch his arm, to comfort him in the way you know how - by offering your help, by showing him that you care, that you’re not judging him.

But before your fingers can make contact, Basen moves. His hand shoots out, gripping your wrist tightly, and with a sudden, jerking motion, he pulls you closer.

The shock of his touch makes your breath catch in your throat. You look up at him, his eyes wild, burning with frustration, with something else.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hisses, but his voice wavers for just a second.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Basen pulls you the rest of the way toward him, his lips crashing into yours with a force that leaves you breathless.

It’s hot. It’s furious. His mouth is demanding, his kiss claiming, as if he’s trying to drown the fury and frustration he feels inside, trying to lock it all away in this moment.

You’re too stunned to move at first, the shock of it all coursing through your veins.

But then, instinct kicks in.

You kiss him back. You’re not sure what drives you. Anger, desire, or the way his entire body is shaking with unexpended emotion? But it doesn’t matter. There’s no turning back now.

His hands tighten around you, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you, his heartbeat loud in your chest as his grip on your wrist shifts to your waist.For a moment, all the anger, all the long lived hostility between you, melts away.

It’s just him, just you, the heat of the battle fading into the background as his kiss deepens, becoming more desperate, more primal. You pull away just enough to breathe, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears. His face is inches from yours, and his breath is just as ragged as yours.

You…hate him, don’t you? You always hated Basen with all of your heart. Hated the way he looks down at you, hated his cold gaze, hated how he always urged to be in charge, to be the one in control. Gao Basen is the epitome of all the things you have, and yet…

“Don’t ever… do that again,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

You can’t tell if you’re angry, confused, or something else entirely, but your chest feels tight, as if your breath is trapped beneath his hands.

Basen doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans his forehead against yours, his voice a low rasp.

“I don’t know what this is. But I can’t stand seeing you with anyone else, not even with Master Jinshi. Can’t stand you not being by my side, can’t stand you putting yourself on display for danger almost every single day… can’t stand it…”

You don’t know what to say to that. You don’t know how to respond to the confession that feels raw and completely out of place in this moment. Instead, you step back, shaking your head slowly, even as your heart races faster than you can understand.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmur, but there’s no real heat in your words anymore.

You’re too confused, too overwhelmed to be angry. Was all of this just a dream? Those words, the desperation in his gaze?

No.

You shake your head ever so slightly, eyes shifting to the gaping wound on his side.

“And I’m still treating that wound.”

Basen’s eyes narrow, his pride not letting him fully back down. But there’s a shift in his look, a flicker of something deeper, something softer that you can’t quite place.

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, his voice still rough.

“And you’re insufferable…kissing me in the middle of the battlefield like that…”

“But you kissed me back-“

“I DID NOT!”

[azsazz]

Mtl best at oral out of the bat boys and the Vanserra brothers

Ohhhh…normally we don’t let these thoughts out of the cage…jk lets rip this shit

Eris motherfucking Vanserra is good at eating pussy. He’s good at sucking cock too, to be honest. I’ve mentioned this before, but this man knows how to utilize his powers in the bedroom. Burning your clothes away from your body, he places you carefully on the bed. He almost has a routine, knows what makes you crack. There are times where he definitely switches it up, it’s not like he wants you to cum quickly, but he wants you to cum as many times as you can before he absolutely needs to stick his aching cock inside of you. Fire dances on the tip of his tongue in more ways than one, and there’s something about the way his mouth grows hotter and hotter against your cunt. You’re a writhing fucking mess for him, shouting and pulling his hair, clawing at his shoulders as he fucks you on his tongue. The fire with each flick of his tongue battles the one that buds in your body as you fall apart for him.

Azriel is a tease, as we could all probably guess. He loves those noises you make for him when you’re so close to cumming, only to whine and writhe desperately when he pulls away at the last second. He brushes his teeth gently across your clit, just enough to feel you shudder beneath his grip. He might be a man of few words, but just like when he does speak, all of the times he goes down on you are memorable moments. He’s slow and meticulous in this, slow, soft laps of his tongue can turn into a ravenous oral within seconds. He always keeps you on your toes, you never know what new trick he’s going to pull out this time.

Cassian isn’t the best, but he’s fucking enthusiastic. And when I say that he’s not the best, it isn’t because he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Oh, he knows exactly where he wants you. He’s manhandling you, gripping your calf and tugging you to the end of the bed, splaying your eyes wide. His pupils are blown out as he strokes a thumb across your soaking pussy. His knees crack loudly against the ground as he drops to them, and he doesn’t wait a second before he’s face first in your cunt, licking, slurping, drinking you up like his life fucking depends on it. His eyes are locked on you the entire time, and he’s an unmovable force. It’s torture as much as it is pleasure. You’ve lost the ability to clamp your legs together because his hands keep them spread wide while he flattens his tongue and licks a harsh stripe from your ass to your clit. He could stay between your legs forever, and he’s cum just from eating you out, too.

Lucien…now this is a man that would take fucking care of you. Your pleasure is always his highest priority, no matter what. He uses pairs his long fingers with his tongue, utilizing more than just his mouth while you slowly melt into a puddle on the mattress. He’s a worshipper, thrives off of the noises you make. When he hits a certain spot that draws a delicious noise from you, he hones in on that spot, repeating the motion over and over until you cum. He can be soft and sweet, he can also be a tease, though he prefers the former.

Rhysand is a natural born leader. He commands your body like he does his court, with confidence and swagger. He’s using his words just as much as his tongue, drenching you with praises, between breaths, between tasting you. He’s pulling away from your throbbing clit to suck kisses into your thighs, marking you just as your scent is marking him. He’s possessive with you, needs you close, wishes he could be between your legs at all times. He savors every single moment with you because he does have a court to run, after all.

[copilot-crashout]

haiii!! i just found ur blog thingy and I LOVE UR WRITING SO MUCH!!

erm is it possible for some daisuke x shy!reader hcs…. im soo starved of shy reader in this danfom……

Pairing: Daisuke x gn!reader

Content Warning: None!

[A/N]: This is so sweet! Thank you! (/▿＼ ) I didn't realise there was such a drought..!! Daisuke is one of the characters I struggle with writing, but I tried my best! I'll keep writing for him, for practice! ᕦ(˵•̀ᴥ•́˵)ᕤ

DAISUKE:

-> With Daisuke having such a boisterous personality, people would assume it would be hard for him to get along with someone so shy. Yet, it works out perfectly! You balance each other out, Daisuke becoming your voice when you don't feel able to speak up, and you becoming his leash for when his antics become too much for the rest of the crew.

-> During your first days on the Tulpar, you found yourself accustomed to the different personalities on the ship, including Daisuke. He found you to be the most interesting on the ship, although your skittish nature made it hard for him to connect with you. He grinned, creating a mission for himself. He would become your friend, no matter how shy you were!

-> Daisuke is a naturally clingy guy, a total sucker for any kind of physical touch. One morning, he slings his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in for a friendly conversation. He doesn't miss the way your pretty eyes don't quite meet his or the way you fidget with whatever your hands can grab onto. It captivates him. Was the lounge always this small, or was it just his proximity to you making the world seem so lacklustre in comparison?

-> He whines to Swansea, begging him for advice, pleading with puppy eyes for some tips on how to break through your shyness. All he gets in response is a whack on the head with a rough command to get back to work without his head in the clouds. If you're close to any of the other characters, he clumsily attempts to interrogate them, asking how they got you so comfortable around them.

-> Your shyness isn't bad! He just wants to get to know you, so he tries to break through initially. He's happy for you to stay reserved, so long as you spend time with him! If anything, he finds it cute. The way you stumble over your words, fidget with your clothes and blush when he does anything too forward. It gives him cuteness aggression. He wants to squish your cheeks together and litter kisses all over, eyes glistening with mirth as he feels you flounder under his touch.

-> Daisuke is a man of quality time. Whenever Swansea bats him away from work, you're the person he goes running to. Entwines his hand into yours while talking into your ear, rubbing soft circles into the back of your hand, the cold metal of his rings pressed into your palm as you walk laps around the ship. Nights on the Tulpar are spent coddled up in his room, Daisuke playing on his Game Boy as you watch, a pout on his face as he passes it over for your turn once he dies. He hugs you from behind, eyes focused on the small device... His heart still leaps at the way your breath hitched at how close he was, feeling his breath along your neck.

-> You're not one to talk much? Then, you're perfect at keeping secrets! He'll drag you along as he grows his ever-expanding sweetener collection. You're sat on the kitchen counter, keeping guard as Daisuke presses numbers into the machine with a giggle. These heists are way more fun with you by his side.

-> You'd be silly to think he wasn't awkward, either. Catch him slacking on work or caught in a mess of his own making, and you'll watch as Daisuke chuckles nervously, a pretty flush rising to his cheeks as he tries to play it cool. You dig that, right?

"Fancy seeing you here! Uh— Don't mind the mess! I got my work cut out for me."

Daisuke stumbles over his words, suavely leaning on the doorframe to the utility room, trying to cover the absolute carnage behind him. You didn't need to see the mess strewn across the floor, papers and tools spread in every which way. As he opens his mouth to speak again, he's cut off with a yell from Swansea. You feel the weight of a hand placed on your shoulder with a nervous chuckle, the man giving you a dorky, lopsided grin.

"Work calls. I'll see you in my room later... Right? Notlikethatunlessyouwantittobebut— ack! You know what I mean!"

He can't save himself, but he can always run, delaying having to hear your response for a few hours. Just enough time to bring his composure back. He gives you a nod and runs back into the utility, leaving you alone to wonder what the hell just happened.

-> You become a place of refuge for him. As much as he smiles, Daisuke knows he can't always keep it up. His worries for his future and family build up gradually, creating a weight that seats itself into his chest uncomfortably. Your shy nature allows him to feel safe, creating a soft atmosphere he could just melt into, rather than facing the roughness of everyday life. It lifts his worries if only for a moment. He talks to you about his future, hoping you can lend an ear. Of course, he'll do the same for you! Rest your head in his lap as you talk about your issues, and he'll happily listen, offering advice when he can, but more importantly, keeping you happy. You're a rare treasure, after all.

-> Platonic or romantic, you're a killer duo! He wouldn't trade your relationship for the world!

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Finally got a chance to check on tumblr again after a few months at uni and immediately began to reread all the ghoul fics (I have not slept in 24 hours and do not plan to any time soon). You have AMAZING WRITING!! are we perchance going to see any more hc’s for Our Lord and Saviour Mayor Hancock? Hope you enjoy Fallout 3!

I'm always ready to give y'all more thoughts about John. I think it might be impossible to run out of ideas about him.

I hope your time at uni's been going well! I know how stressful it can be, so I'm more than happy to provide you with some escapism. Loving Fallout 3 so far, planning to get some more play time in tomorrow. Enjoy getting all caught up on the blog, lol!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

John Hancock (Fallout 4) NSFW Headcanons 4

John is really into the idea of exhibitionism; he's braggadocious, and he loves showing you off, but the older he gets, the more he realizes it's not exactly becoming of someone who's supposed to be a leader of the community. As much as he would like to drag you out onto that balcony he speaks from and make everyone listen to the way you whine and moan on his cock, it'd be sort of a bad look. The closest he'll get is dragging you into the bathroom or a utility closet, maybe fucking you somewhere pretty open when you're on the road (though that's often a pretty risky move in a different way).

Incredibly affectionate in the afterglow, no matter how aggressive or animalistic he was during the sex itself. Huge cuddler, especially if the two of you end up passing out in a big, sweaty heap (which he strongly prefers). If you can't cuddle for whatever reason, he's still pretty clingy.

Long hair on a partner isn't an absolute must, as John doesn't necessarily have a physical "type", but he does like it, especially the utility of it. Being able to wrap it around his hand and control your posture, drag you around by it when he feels like it. Bury his fingers in it as he fucks you from behind.

I've talked before about his history of taking advantage of the Massachusetts State House being one of the only places in the Boston area that has running hot water, and that move doesn't stop once you two are a couple. Likes to watch you bathe as much as he likes to bathe together, but one tends to use a lot more water...

John has an incredibly filthy mouth, but he's equally capable of being very sweet and sentimental during sex. Sometimes it's both at the same time, sincere compliments and heartfelt declarations of love mixed in with nasty praises and commands. He has a tough time filtering himself when he's feeling really good, whether that be because he's high or because you're riding him like a wild brahmin, so he talks pretty endlessly. Isn't usually all that into degradation or humiliation, but he can tiptoe into that territory at the right moment.

[jaxi-the-dragonborn]

IceWing Variants!!!

SnowWings, WolfWings, FrostWings, SpearWings, and CliffWings :D

details about them under the cut :)

WolfWings:

used as ground forces in the IW army

weak flyers, fast runners

on average the largest of all variants

very spiky

from 0-2 years of age they are all a black-brown color, then they start developing their adult coat

some wolfwings never lose their baby coat

most commonly live in forests of IW kingdom

groups of wolfwings are called a "fang" both in and outside of the army

browns and tans are very common

mask type markings very common

hold heads closer to the ground than other variants

excellent sense of smell

SpearWings:

longest reaching frostbreath

utilized by IW army for high-altitude recon and command and control during battles against NightWings, SandWings, SeaWings (less common), and MudWings. (SkyWings can fly at same altitude and higher so they are not utilized against them)

those that are not doing recon and C2 during battles will provide ground support by divebombing flyers and forcing them to the ground.

They also do ground support using their long reaching frostbreath in strafing runs

outside of divebombs they are weak air v air and ground v ground fighters

but if this guy decides to divebomb you you will die

typically dwell in ice caves

colors range from white-dark blue

faint markings common

fastest dive and overall flight speed of all IW variants

groups in army are called a talon

FrostWings:

OG IceWings

SUPER shiny scales, gleam like ice in the sun

super strong air v air fighters (good turn rate, average speed, average frostbreath)

most common markings are colorpoint stripes and freckles

not too much else to say abt them

live in heart of Ice Kingdom

SnowWings:

versatile fighters, can be strong on ground or in air (depends on individual dragon and training)

quiet flyers

live in snow dens :D

most common pattern is spots, which can range from white to black

extra spikes on throat give them an edge in close range combat (harder to grab/slice/bite)

super thorny horns- presents possible (closer) relationship to WolfWings

CliffWings

typically dark tops (head, back, topside of wings) can range from silvery grey to iridescent navy blue (like this guy) to black with super light undersides

smallest of all IW variants

live on cliifs at edges of kindgom

sometimes born with very small webs

stripes, bands, and speckles are very common markings (think banded penguins)

yellow-orange-pink scales sometimes pop up (but are more common on hybrids between CliffWings and other variants)

diet mostly fish

weak flyers

super fast in water

excellent swimmers and divers

weakest frostbreath

mostly used for maritime patrol and recon against SeaWings

sometimes used for infiltration (see Darkstalker: Legends when Clearsight was on the beach)

can hold breath for an impressive amount of time (time increases with age and practice)

Wolf + Frost hybrid

hybrids btw variants pretty common

strange scale colors often pop up

with Spear hybrids they often have more purples/greens/pinks for example

thanks for reading!

every dragon here is up for adoption :) just message me if u want to grab them :D

if anyone wants to know how exactly the different types work with each other in battle let me know :D

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[tickytheclock]

Time to get my Faction out :D

[Wild Riders]

They are a faction of a rag-tag team of Toons. They basically travel around via the truck, Steel Stallion. They go around from settlement to settlement to do business such as selling weapons and augments as well as buying for supplies and material.

Members in the faction join via being picked up by the leader, Tinkerer. Most of them were found in tight situations like near death scenarios or even when they are at their low, some are pretty great customers of Tinkerer who just decided to hitch on.

This is their Truck, or more specifically, Tinkerer's.

Steel Stallion

Functions as a base, home, workshop, store and more. There are plenty of weapons, augments, armour, utility tools and supplies so take your time scouring through the stocks.

Operation Ichor by @slumbrr-r @operation-ichor

Relationship with other Organizations and Factions. ↓

Gardenview [Allies/Friendly]:

The Wild Riders have a very beneficial relationship with this organization, especially with those in the Forge. They supply and trade each other with mainly blueprints and materials.

The Merchant Order [Neutral]:

The Wild Riders are technically under this organization, plenty of reliable links and ties to be found there. Mainly just buying and selling goods there.

RUIN CORP [Allies/Neutral]:

Although the Wild Riders primarily go to them for...cleaning. The two benefit from each other a lot, specifically with Harmony.

Zodiac [Enemies]:

Although it's usually either kill on sight or sabotage on the sidelines, the Wild Riders have a primary goal—to make the members in there defected from the place as much as they can, whether it be through fear or convincing.

Plus it be funny if there was a revolution, watch the place crumble on itself.

Vinization [Allies/Neutral]:

Mutual connection for benefit, and a great place where the Wild Riders can get info on the Zodiac through the captured members. It also wouldn't hurt to do a bit of trading with the Retailers, helps both sides.

Hidden Sanctuary [Allies/Friendly]:

Like Gardenview, they provide each other with supplies and material, beneficial for the Builders and Defenders with materials, tools, weapons and augments and the Wild Riders with food supplies.

Overseas Commandment [Neutral/Friendly]:

These two factions don't really meet up often since they travel a lot one on land and the other on sea. But when they do, it's mostly some exchange in information and trading with materials.

The Caravan [Allies/Friendly]:

They most definitely share information as the Wild Riders would aid in giving and improving weapons and augments for better protection. These two factions travel with each other when they get the chance to, after all, there is a certain strength in numbers. Makes the trip a bit more safer.

Phoenix Coalition Organization [Allies/Neutral]:

They most certainly do have different ideals but they do have a certain goal, to protect others and stand united.

With the Defense Division, the Wild Riders will most certainly aid in their mission and especially with evacuation and waves.

At Site Omicron where the Engineering Department is, they mutually help in making even more ichor efficient and powerful tools, weapons, augments and armour.

Meanwhile at Site Thaumiel, the headquarters of the Science Department, they share data and research for more understanding and breakthroughs.

Sentinel and Wild Riders would certainly run into each other plenty of times, it's more of a competition of who does it first really and maybe form a joint operation.

The Wild Riders never truly interacted with the Diplomatic Relations Division, so just be prepared for sudden joint operations, but despite everything help is still help.

Mechanists [Neutral/Allies]:

These faction may not see things eye to eye but they certainly help each other when it's needed.

Sometimes they do come around each other via the Marauders Division in their expedition I'm which they would offer the members to hitch a ride to their destination and target.

With the Moongazer Division, its mainly exchange in material and tech, as well as maybe blueprints.

Masquerade Town [Neutral?]:

...if a single word got out to the Wild Riders that the town is nothing but Twisteds, there's going to be a massacre...

The Field [Tension/Enemies]:

...the ex-member of the Zodiacs in the Wild Riders have given intel of this organization...this place needs to be known but the risk is very much a lot.

Wild Riders mainly avoid this place because it is at risk with all the children in there...mayhaps the other factions can help.

The Greater Good [Tension/Enemies/Allies?]:

Unfortunately, they are enemies (albeit one sided) due to Wild Riders have both an ex-member of the Zodiac and partial Twisteds, maybe they could've been allies under different circumstances but this is not the case.

The Wild Riders take on a more defensive approach to the faction of The Greater Good, often fleeing, their intentions are good but their ways are flawed. But they WILL reluctantly help each other and call it truce when it comes to threats like the Zodiac, Twisteds and especially waves.

[thnkfrthevenom]

Distracted (Timkon fic)

Kon fell through his bedroom door, closing it behind him and leaning back against it with a sigh. This was getting ridiculous. He was distracted during the fight, making stupid mistakes. Thankfully no one got hurt because of him, but that was more luck than anything. Luck and his teammates picking up his slack.

Especially Robin. Robin. The cause of all of this.

Running his hand through his wind-tousled hair, Kon pulled off his leather jacket and threw it across his desk chair. Too worked up to change from his suit, he dropped face-first onto the bed with a groan, sunglasses creaking and pinching.

Kon just couldn’t stop watching him.

He was just so calm and collected and smart and so… cool. Even in the most nail-biting situations, he could command the room and get everyone on the same page. He never seemed to get nervous, or scared – always knew what to do no matter what life or the villain of the week threw at him.

Watching him run and flip and swing his bow-staff in that stupidly hot outfit. The way you could tell even behind the stark white lenses of his domino, his eyes were intense and burning. If only Kon knew what color those eyes were.

He had dreams about what Robin looked like behind the mask. Sometimes he had a warm brown gaze, big doe eyes that stared up at Kon. Other times, he had the clearest of blue, shining bright and mesmerizing, outlined by dark lashes that fluttered.  He wondered if he shaped his eyebrows or left them to grow naturally. Were they sharp and angular? That seemed to fit Robin’s personality. Kon had seen the inside of his bathroom in the tower a few times, and Robin seemed to have a collection of grooming products, so it would make sense. His hair always looked so soft, strands falling onto his forehead, and Kon had the urge to run his fingers through it, trace them down his jaw and neck, across his shoulders and over his biceps, toned from his (read: Batman’s) strict training regimens. He wanted to drag his hand down the Kevlar of his suit, trace the R on his chest, down across his armored abdomen, grabbing onto his utility belt and pulling him forward against-

Knock knock.

~

Read the rest here!

(Guys I haven't written anything in years please give me grace... I am suffering in college I need this outlet...)

[loth-creatures]

GIVING HER A SWORD ⚔️

@lothwolfwalkers au sideblog

Right, so after Sabine sacrifices her and Ezra's lightsaber (rip) to sabotage the Sion (see here), she's gonna be missing it a lot. She can defend herself just fine without it, but by now she's so used to reaching for it.

During her search for Ezra on Peridea (gonna hold back the details on that for now) she will end up fighting and defeating some Night Sisters, and upon running into a situation in which the lightsaber would have been very very useful, she picks up one of their fallen swords in it's place.

The magic fire infusing it remains just long enough to get the job done, but quickly fades with it's former owner's passing. It's a good blade regardless, and Sabine carries it for the rest of their journey on Peridea.

There will be a bit of a learning curve weilding it, swords and lightsabers have some differences. It might get broken at some point, and perhaps she'll reforge it. Some version of it will make it back home with her probably idk. This is all part of a half-baked subplot that probably won't make it into comic form. I'll probably talk about it more in future though! There's ocs and everything now.

Basically I'm imagining there are several factions of the Dathomiri on Peridea and some of them are against allying with Thrawn, and are willing to help Ezra, Sabine, and Ahsoka defeat him. They'll totally help Sabine master that sword, especially reforging it or forging a new one from scratch, and maybe even give her a way to activate it's magic. Even if Sabine herself can't do magic, they could put a spell on it that attunes it to her and it will activate at her command or smth like that. Not a feature she would utilize often, but it would come in handy in dire situations.

[succulentsiren]

CHARACTERISTICS OF A WINNERS MINDSET

The Siren archetype is the perfect example of utilizing a Winners Mindset and believing that "Everything I Touch Turns To Gold."

No matter what the Siren moves with the mindset of {I've already won}. The Siren doesn't rush nor compare themselves self to others. They are in a relaxed and steady lane of their own.

Read the Siren Poem.

Characteristics:

1. An Abundant Mindset

Having an abundance mindset is being able to see the world through eyes of abundance. Majority of people move through the chaos of the world with a defeated attitude but the Winner glides through life seeing opportunity in all things. Unfortunate events are bound to happen but the Winner stays positive regardless of these temporary circumstances. They are able to see themselves winning before it even happens.

These are the types of people that could be going through the worst experience of their life but remain relaxed and carefree. Others are often complexed at how unbothered they are. But as mentioned above, the Winner knows they've ALREADY WON. They continue to celebrate life and don't take a moment for granted.

2. Capability

Winners know that they are capable of manifesting their desired results. They visualize their goal and take consistent action to get there.

When manifesting they speak, think and move as if they already have their desired result. Instead of thinking how they're going to get there, they think from the end because they are certain of their success.

3. A Worthy Attitude.

Winners Know Their Worth.

Instead of running from the spotlight and shrinking, Winners allow themselves to be seen.

They feel fear, but act anyways.

Instead of letting guilt get in the way, Winners are opening to receiving gifts, rewards and praise.

They have mastered the Art of Receiving.

Instead of begging and pleading for results, Winners make commands.

Ex: DON'T SAY "Please let me get approved to have this car. I hope it works"

SAY "I'm so grateful that this is my car."

DON'T SAY "I can't." "It's Hard."

SAY "It's too easy!" "I have what it takes."

Don't engage in negative talk. If you think and speak negatively that's what will manifest in your life. When you speak in abundance and opportunity that's what will manifest into your life.

Winners have a heightened sense of confidence and have activated their IT Factor.

4. Speak Highly to Self and of Self.

The tongue holds power and your words are the spells you cast.

Many people are too reckless in their word choices and use their craft to hurt themselves. This careless behavior brings more unfortune into their lives. The Winner however, never uses their power of spell-casting to hurt themselves.

Winners use their power to uplift their spirits and create their dream reality. They give themselves compliments and are good at receiving them as well. They can motivate themselves to achieve goals or get themselves out of a rot. They don't make self deprecating remarks. They know that their faults are also their strengths.

5. Make Plans and Be Disciplined.

Chess not checkers.

Achieving things in life requires patience, persistence and effort. Winners create schedules and plans and stay true to the commitment. This allows them to build self respect and character.

Advice:

Instead of doing everything all at once, set aside time each day, even if it's 10 minutes, to put effort towards your goals. No more no less.

When you're filled with doubt do not let that get in the way of getting to your goal. Train yourself to put your emotions aside for awhile and focus. Remind yourself that you are indeed capable and the perfect person to make your dreams happen.

6. Calm and Assured.

Winners have low anxiety because they are able to control it with a assured and calm outlook. There's is no need for them to rush, panic, worry or compete with others. Instead of thinking of the worst scenario think of the best outcome that can occur.

[claudaze]

⌗ 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

마크 mark lee x reader ⋮ you didn’t mean to call him. not after three years, not after everything you did. but your fingers trembled, your vision blurred, and instead of the agency’s emergency line, you dialed his number — the one you swore you forgot. mark lee picks up, and the line goes quiet. all that breathless silence between you crackles like a live wire. once, he was your partner — in missions and in bed, in blood and betrayal. you left him behind with a bullet in his leg and your name in his mouth. he never came after you. now? now that he knows you're still alive, hunted, and bleeding out on a dirty bathroom floor? oh, he’s coming. and when he finds you, it’s not to save you — it’s to ruin you. but.. who's he?

→ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 ━━━ mdni — suggestive, rough handling, semi-toxic power imbalance, manipulation, violence, weapon use ( guns / knives ), betrayal, heavy cursing, and reader & mark both have blood on their hands :// also, i feel like im missing a tw here because ts aint proofread yet, and tbh everything happens so fast lmao. i tried my best to explain everything yes. proceed with caution, and sorry if its all over the place lol !!!! read with care.

she was born to shadows. a daughter of informants. her mother dead by eight. her father dragged into an alley at ten. they didn’t even bother to clean up the mess — just left the blood to dry like paint against the concrete. she watched. she learned. she did not cry.

it started before the click. before the wrong number. before the dried blood and hotel silence. before mark lee ever whispered her name into the dark. it started in a city no one remembers. a place carved from ash and gunmetal, where children stopped being children the second their fathers died with secrets on their tongues.

by twelve, she was fluent in silence.

by fifteen, she was fluent in killing.

the syndicate took her in. not with open arms — no, they didn’t believe in softness. they believed in purpose. utility. obedience. she gave them all three. and in return, they gave her everything she’d need to disappear: new names. new passports. new reasons to keep her hands steady and her heart shut tight. she was efficient. untraceable. a ghost in red lipstick. a nightmare dressed in skin.

she didn't believe in love. not really. not until him. mark lee wasn’t supposed to be in the field. he was a comms guy. sharp. clean. too good for blood. the kind of man who should’ve stayed behind the glass — watching screens, not bodies drop. but command liked to shuffle the pieces. and sometimes, the pretty ones made the best bait.

he saw her first.

through the cracked lens of a surveillance drone. she was walking through an abandoned warehouse with a gun on her hip like it belonged there. like it was part of her. he knew, even before she looked up, even before she shot the camera dead: this wasn’t just another name on a file. this was something else.

when they finally met, it wasn’t clean.

she had a blade to his throat before he got her name. and all he could say — breathless, heart hammering, stupidly impressed — was:

“god, you’re beautiful.”

she should’ve killed him. instead, she let him live.

worse: she let him in.

they spent the next year in liminal spaces. safehouses. rooftops. after-hours bars with no names. always on the run, always hunting or hunted. and somewhere in the middle of it all, he made her laugh. just once. it was a sound she didn’t recognize at first. too warm. too soft. too alive.

mark gave her something she didn’t know she could have: choice. he let her be a person. let her touch joy with her fingers without fear of losing them. when he kissed her, it wasn’t desperate. it was real. and that’s why she had to leave.

because the second you believe you deserve happiness, that’s when they take it away. she knew the pattern. had watched it play out again and again. she wouldn’t give the world the pleasure of ripping him from her arms. so she left first. quiet. calculated. cruel. but oh, did it hurt.

mark’s world broke.

not with a bang. not with betrayal. but with the absence of her — the silence of it. the empty side of the bed. the unfinished sentence. the scent of her still clinging to his jacket. he searched for her, of course. hacked systems. called in favors. chased every ghost that looked remotely like her shadow. but she was gone. and worse, he never stopped loving her.

then came the call.

a number that shouldn’t exist anymore. a voice that belonged to every one of his dreams and nightmares. “it’s me,” she said. and like a storm, he came.

the motel reeked of blood and rain. she looked like a wound in human form. hollow-eyed. feral. beautiful in that unholy way she’d always been. “you look like shit,” she told him. “so do you.”

and then silence. but not for long. the bed groaned under the weight of their ghosts. she let him touch her like she was a memory. his hands were cruel — not from hate, but from how badly he’d missed her. fingers at her throat. mouth at her shoulder. she moaned when he bit her collarbone, not out of pain, but because it meant he still knew her. still wanted her ruined and raw.

“you left me,” he whispered against her ribs.

“i had to.”

“no, you chose to.”

he tore her shirt in half. dragged his palm between her thighs and growled at how wet she already was.

“you want me?”

a nod.

“say it.”

“i want you.”

“say it like you mean it.”

“fuck, mark, i want you — i need you.”

he didn’t ease in. he claimed. one thrust. then another. a rhythm as brutal as it was familiar. her nails raked down his back, her legs locked tight around his waist, and his name fell from her lips like it belonged there. every sound she made told him she was still his, no matter how far she’d run.

he made her come once with his fingers, twice with his mouth, and then a third time with nothing but a look — lips swollen, hair ruined, and that grin that only ever came out after he’d broken her open.

the morning came with a gun click. the kind that started wars.

“they’re close,” mark said, strapping a vest to his chest. “ten minutes, maybe less.” she sat up, neck sore, thighs aching, mouth dry. “then we run.” he paused.

“together?” she met his gaze. didn’t blink. “you think i came back just to leave again?” he smirked. something dark flickered in his eyes.

“you better not.” they left through the back, guns drawn, hearts unsteady. but behind them, a laser blinked red against the motel wall. mark’s breath came ragged. her hand was still slick in his. they hadn’t let go since the motel.

this was their reality. one that neither mark nor she had wanted, yet here they were, running for their lives through streets that had become their battleground. the distant hum of engines and the echo of boots pounding against concrete felt like an alarm blaring through the city’s quiet skin. they couldn’t stop. they couldn’t rest.

every corner they turned was another gamble, another test of how far they could push the limits of their bodies and instincts. mark’s breath was labored as he pulled her along, never letting go of her hand, never once slowing down. her heart was racing — panic blending with something more primal. she knew they couldn’t outrun the past forever.

but that’s what they’d been doing, wasn’t it?

the past had come crashing down on them when they least expected it. when everything seemed to be quiet, when they thought they’d made it out clean, it found them. and now, their blood was on the line. there was nowhere to hide, no escape route they hadn’t already burned.

“i can’t keep running forever,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder. she didn’t want to, but the tension gnawing at her was unbearable. every street felt like a dead end.

mark’s jaw clenched, but there was no softness in his gaze. “we don’t have a choice.”

they ducked down an alley, trying to catch their breath. but just as she was about to ask him what their next move was, a sharp crack split the air. the sound of a sniper’s bullet slicing through the air was unmistakable. shit.

“down!” mark shouted, grabbing her by the waist and throwing her to the ground. the shot missed, but it was close. too close.

they scrambled to their feet, but mark was already scanning their surroundings. the cold, calculating look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. they were cornered. and the person who had been hunting them for days was getting closer.

the sniper wasn’t the real danger, though. no. it was the man who stood in the shadows, behind all of this — the man who had never truly been out of their lives. he was watching. always had been.

her stomach dropped as she realized just who the sniper’s target was. they weren’t just running from enemies — they were running from the past, from someone who had once been their brother.

the tension thickened, and then — there he was. a figure stepping out of the darkness. tall, imposing, with a grin that sent a chill down her spine.

“long time, no see,” his voice was smooth, yet taunting. familiar. but the familiarity didn’t bring comfort. it brought dread.

mark froze. his entire posture stiffened. “no,” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief. “you—you’re supposed to be—”

“gone?” the figure chuckled darkly. “yeah. that was the idea.”

her eyes narrowed, heart hammering against her ribs. she knew this face. she had known it, once upon a time, in a life that seemed so far away. but it was still here, like a shadow lingering at the edge of her thoughts, creeping in when she least expected it.

and then, that feeling — jealousy, envy, whatever it was, twisted in her gut. she knew why he was here. she knew what he wanted.

the man, the traitor who had turned his back on them without a second thought, now stood in front of them like nothing had ever happened. he was the same, but not. there was something colder in his eyes now, something sharper, more dangerous.

“mark,” the man — haechan — murmured, almost like a warning. “it’s not just business anymore. this is personal.”

mark’s grip on his gun tightened. he wanted to move, wanted to act, but something was holding him back — her. she was shaking her head, unable to comprehend what was unfolding right in front of them.

“this is insane,” she thought, her chest tight with panic. why is he here? after everything — he’s still here?

mark looked as if he was about to speak, but the words didn’t come. she could feel his heart racing beside her, his tension mirroring her own. the man who had been their friend, their brother... no, the one who had become something else, was standing in front of them, like nothing had ever happened.

she blinked, forcing herself to focus. we can’t die like this. not like this.

“you’re not the same,” mark finally said, his voice breaking through the silence like a whip. his fingers gripped his weapon, his gaze unwavering.

haechan tilted his head, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “you’re the one who’s changed. i’m just here to remind you of who you used to be.”

her breath hitched. who we used to be?

it hit her, the weight of his words. the man who had always been a part of their lives — the one who had always been so close, so familiar — was now the one hunting them down. it wasn’t just the business that had turned him. It was his obsession, his jealousy, his deep-rooted envy.

and she realized, just then, that the man standing in front of them wasn’t just after their lives. he was after something more. he wanted control. he wanted to prove that he could break them. he always had been able to break me, she thought, her chest aching. he’s still the one who can ruin us.

mark’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “what do you want from us, haechan?”

the laughter that followed was low, cold. “everything.”

her pulse quickened, her mind racing with all the ways this could end — none of them good. none of them with a future. it was over.

she looked at mark, seeing the desperation in his eyes. she wanted to tell him something — anything — something to make him understand, but the words caught in her throat. how could she explain to him that the man they’d once known was long gone? he’s not the same, she thought, her hand shaking as she held on to mark. he’s just as broken as we are.

before she could process it any further, haechan’s hand moved, pulling out a gun, and the sound of the shot ringing in the air split the tension. she didn’t even realize she had pulled the trigger until the bullet had already found its target. but even that didn’t stop him. haechan only smiled.

“nice shot,” he said, the blood soaking through his shirt, but there was no sign of pain. “but that won’t save you.”

mark jerked her away, dragging her into the shadows. they were running again, but the footsteps behind them were growing louder. the sound of pursuit, the sound of death, was close.

we’re not going to make it.

mark pulled her behind a wall, his eyes scanning for an escape route. but she wasn’t looking at him. she was looking at the man who had ruined them. the man who had always been there, lurking in the shadows. he wasn’t the same. but neither were they.

and now we were all lost.

and then, there it was — the crack of gunfire again. but this time, it wasn’t mark who pulled the trigger. it was her. she hadn’t meant to. but it was instinct. the weight of the gun felt unfamiliar, but that same sharp instinct that had always been with her took over. she fired. but it wasn’t enough.

and then it all fell apart.

it was too late. a shot rang out. the tunnel filled with smoke. and in the chaos, she looked back — just once — and saw haechan staring at her like she was still seventeen, still his, still something worth breaking for.

[tobiasdrake]

Earlier today i was thinking about how Partner Digimon reflect their child's personality and/or character arc in their design. The easiest one to see is Wormmon, as a reflection of Young Ken's non-confrontational personality, it's weak and docile and lacking in combat capability even for a Child Level but once Ken stops resenting his own kindness and starts to act more proactively he evolves into the bold and skilled Stingmon. That one's easy but i was more interested in Jo and Gomamon. Gomamon is an aquatic mammal who has a hard time moving about on land but has an easy time on the water, symbolizing how Jo is awkward out of his element and how challenging it is for him to become a doctor because of his fear of blood. But as he becomes more confident in himself, Gomamon evolves into Zudomon, a creature with legs, meaning he can thrive out of his element just like how Jo resolves to become a doctor in spite of his limitations. Also in the final episode Jo ends the running gag about whether Gomamon has hands or not, with answer being yes, showing that Jo was always capable of taking care of others from the beginning.

You know, I never considered that in terms of Jou's growth and development, but that does make a lot of sense.

Thinking about Palmon... Mimi is initially characterized as the most frail and helpless of the lot, and I think that's represented in the way her Partner doesn't really have a direct damage-dealing attack.

Like Gomamon's Marching Fishes, Palmon's Poison Ivy is a utility ability first and foremost. It can be used aggressively but it's more of a tool than a weapon. These two abilities stand out in contrast to the others, who have various flavors of elemental "shoot you with MAH SHOOTY GUN" attacks.

But when Mimi finds the will to fight, Palmon can evolves into hand-to-hand brawler. Togemon is built for getting into someone's face and throwing hands. She can shoot, she can punch, she can just full-body tackle and stab you with her spines. She is a violent meltdown in Digimon form.

But she's also still unapologetically feminine. Part of Mimi's emotional journey is the fear that all this conflict and violence will change her from the delicate young woman she enjoys being. In contrast to the tomboy Sora, Mimi is between a rock and a hard place. She struggles with getting stronger without compromising her identity and her values.

And thus we have Lilimon. A delicate flower that blooms from the top of Togemon's prickly cactus body. Forged in steel and made stronger for her experiences as Togemon, and yet her raw feminine elegance and grace is unmistakable. A Digimon who threads that needle, evolving into something that is profoundly strong and yet proudly delicate all at once. Just as Mimi herself becomes in her own final evolution as a wartime commander driven by compassion and empathy for all the living creatures of the Digital World.

[yupuffin]

On Dan Heng and Draconic Transformations

(Honkai: Star Rail ❗ SPOILER WARNING! ❗)

Dan Heng is an captivating conundrum, a character with a convoluted past shrouded in mystery, and it often seems that finding answers to our questions about him only leads us to further questions.

We know he's the reincarnation of Dan Feng, the previous High Elder of the Xianzhou Luofu's Vidyadhara, and we know multiple forms of interference in the reincarnation process led to an unusual outcome in which Dan Feng's power was transferred imperfectly.

In the Xianzhou Luofu chapter of Honkai: Star Rail's main story, we observe Dan Heng wielding Dan Feng's residual power to change into his more draconic Imbibitor Lunae form, in which he physically resembles his previous incarnation, and command the Vidyadhara's cloudhymn magic for combat as well as for parting the seas of Scalegorge Waterscape. As spectacular and enlightening as this portion of the story is, the audience can't help but ponder further unanswered questions about Dan Heng's identity and capabilities.

From my experience, there are two prominent questions in the Honkai: Star Rail fandom concerning Dan Heng and his transformation abilities:

1. Whether his transformation is voluntary, and 2. Whether he can transform fully into a dragon.

Neither question seems to have been directly answered in canon thus far; the most we've gotten as the audience is hints at potential answers in the form of canon (e.g. character backstories and voicelines) and extra-canon (e.g. character trailers) material -- and some of these hints are delivered much more enigmatically than others (as in the former case). Many players utilize various headcanons to fill in the gaps, leading to a number of different potential interpretations. I'll attempt to address all of these aspects in my analysis of these questions.

Let's start with the first question, since, logically and chronologically speaking, it's relevant before the second.

While Dan Heng's transformation sequence is shown canonically, it's not immediately clear whether the transformation is fully voluntary.

In the Imbibitor Lunae "reveal" scene, when Dan Heng is first shown changing into his Imbibitor Lunae form, said transformation immediately follows Blade running him through with his sword, suggesting a direct connection between the two events. The nature of said connection, however, is canonically ambiguous.

I've seen a common headcanon that Blade stabbing Dan Heng is the sole, direct trigger for this transformation, which would thereby be involuntary. Personally, I think this is a plausible conclusion with intriguing narrative implications worth investigating. After all, Dan Heng's disgruntled expression upon the transformation's conclusion and his delay in reverting to his humanoid form do seem to indicate that changing forms, even if deliberate, was at the very least not a decision he made willingly.

Later in this portion of the main story, Dan Heng is again shown in his humanoid form, indicating that he changed back "off-screen" at some point while returning from Scalegorge Waterscape to Central Starskiff Haven, with the exact mechanism remaining unclear. Then, following this quest, Dan Heng's companion quest "The Dragon Returns Home" becomes available; upon its initiation, Dan Heng has returned to his Imbibitor Lunae form, again with the transformation itself not shown.

This back-and-forth switch does seem to indicate that Dan Heng's transformation is indeed a voluntary process. That said, Honkai: Star Rail's side quests are presented with obscure enough chronology (as in. you can literally do them completely out of order, based on when they unlock and whether you do them immediately or wait months to even start them -- I'm the latter) that I think you could logically support a reading either way.

As far as extra-canon material goes, the most plausible evidence for Dan Heng's transformation being fully volitional is the Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae trailer "The Prodigal's Return." The video opens with Dan Heng facing Phantylia calmly, Blade absent, as his transformation begins, suggesting that the process is a deliberate "power-up," for which healing mortal wounds, like the one he received from Blade, is a secondary function.

(Granted, from a story standpoint, this is not actually how the fight with Phantylia occurred, so one could argue that this scene is solely for aesthetic/presentation purposes, leaving its canonical significance questionable.)

Lastly, there's the scene in Penacony's dreamscape where Dan Heng appears in his Imbibitor Lunae form alongside Jing Yuan, but it's later revealed that this scene is a mere figment of the Trailblazer's imagination, so as far as canon implications go, it's inconclusive.

So, to summarize our answer for question one: personally I think it's more logically supported that Dan Heng does transform voluntarily. However, given the lack of conclusive evidence, I also think one could make a plausible argument either way, depending on their preferred interpretation.

Which brings us to question two: if Dan Heng, wielding a significant portion of the High Elder's powers, can switch between his humanoid and Imbibitor Lunae forms, does that mean he can also transform fully into a dragon?

While he hasn't done so yet in the story, it does seem entirely possible. Indeed, the game's lore indicates that the High Elder is capable of changing into a fully draconic form, and that Dan Feng previously did so.

However, so far, beyond his Imbibitor Lunae transformation, Dan Heng is only shown, in his technique and idle animations, performing a partial transformation at the very most -- with his horns growing longer and a translucent, semi-present dragon tail extending from the base of his spine -- serving as a mere suggestion of the possibility of him being capable of transforming further.

Assuming this is an ability he possesses, canonically speaking, it's entirely possible that Dan Heng can perform a full dragon transformation, and hasn't yet simply because he doesn't want to. Several of his Imbibitor Lunae character stories and voicelines, as well as his reluctance to address his past prior to the "reveal," indicate that his draconic identity is a source of deep emotional hardship for him and that he resents his connection to his previous incarnation.

This attitude also explains why, in the "reveal" scene, Dan Heng's change into his Imbibitor Lunae form may have been, even if deliberate, not fully voluntary per se (in other words, he had no other choice).

Hence, at this point, the answers to these two questions can presently be only speculated at best, with ample evidence to support a "yes" response to both, but enough ambiguity that a "no" to either is also plausible.

Of course, with inconclusive evidence contrary to either viewpoint, this means the potential answers to both questions are rewarding to investigate via headcanons. I've seen fans speculate that Dan Heng's Imbibitor Lunae form is his "default" state -- i.e. his "true form" as it is typically referred to in the game's lore -- in that maintaining his humanoid form requires conscious effort, perhaps in the form of the same cloudhymn magic his previous incarnations commanded. This could certainly explain why receiving a mortal wound in his humanoid form would cause him to revert to his more invulnerable Imbibitor Lunae form.

Personally, I think you could also argue the reverse. In his Imbibitor Lunae self-introduction voice-over, Dan Heng refers to his Imbibitor Lunae form as his "original" appearance rather than his "true form," and he appears in his humanoid form in every other part of the story aside from the ones I've mentioned here -- even when he's asleep in his room or otherwise not fully conscious.

Granted, given his feelings on his previous incarnation, these points could simply be a consequence of individual interpretation and willingness (or rather, lack thereof) on his part.

Additionally, in Chinese mythology, the orb held by dragons seems to signify wisdom, prosperity, and spirituality. Therefore, I'm personally inclined to interpret his Imbibitor Lunae idle animation as him deliberately entering a sort of meditative state, and the resulting extensions of his horns and tail as a conscious choice that he "turns off" upon the conclusion of the animation.

But again, this is straying decidedly into headcanon territory, which is fully up to individual interpretation.

So, again, as a fan of dragons, I like to think, based on canon evidence, that Dan Heng indeed transforms voluntarily and could potentially further change into a fully draconic form at some point, but I suppose, story-wise, it remains to be seen!