#these two have zero idea how to properly communicate

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Part Ten

Summary: Azriel and Y/n both are left reeling from the fight and revelations that morning.

Warnings: ANGST!!!! Shes a little spicey, Smut (oral, f receiving), this is probably the longest chapter yet

Series Masterlist

-Part Ten-

Azriel was gone until well after dinner, she’d eaten alone in the dining room when the house had seemed sick of her wallowing and forced a plate of food in front of her. Y/n was half tempted to refuse but she felt the scolding presence and decided arguing wasn’t worth it.

The fight had drained from her in the hours she’d spent in that seat, staring at the wall. She didn’t have it in her, the fire from her argument with Azriel dying out, turning to ice in her chest until she felt nothing at all.

Once she finished every last bite of the meal, the house whisked away the plates and she was left with nothing again, just that cold empty silence. She felt the fire tugging on her, felt it like a faint echo of what she’d felt this morning, begging to be rekindled, to keep fighting until she won, that was her mother’s temper, her father’s resilience. But she wasn’t them, she wasn’t strong enough to be them, her parents had taken on the world and won, fighting for a dream that they got to achieve. Y/n? Y/n had lived through nothing but peace. She was trained as a warrior, she could fight and win, but what was there to fight for? To get home, to fight some faceless god that wanted her dead for a sin that wasn’t her own, to die anyway? What was the damned point of it all.

Alone, she was so fucking alone, and it was eating her alive.

“You’re still up.”

Her heart lurches in her chest, “Gods be damned, don’t do that.”

Azriel glides across the room, in that deadly silent way, spymaster indeed. She hadn’t even felt his approach like she usually did, that heavy feeling of being under his gaze, that feeling in her heart that whispered, he’s close. It was like it was suppressed, submerged under water, still there, but so so faint.

“I’m sorry.” He gives her a small grin that says quite the opposite, “Did I startle you?”

“Not at all,” she says, frowning up at him, “Where have you been? Babysitting not fun enough for you anymore?”

It’s easy to throw on that mask of sarcasm and arrogance, anything to hide the crushing weight on her shoulders.

“It was never fun to begin with.” He shrugs, taking a seat across from her, a glass of deep red wine appearing on the table before him, “I was dealing with court matters.”

She leans across the table and plucks the glass into her own hands, “Sounds riveting.”

The wine is sweet on her tongue as she drinks deeply, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. It soothes some of the rough edges of her, chips away at that ice.

She sighs as she finishes the glass, her eyes finding the male in front of her, who’s hazel gaze is firmly planted on her sighing lips. There’s a darkness in his gaze, different than the usual shadows, it’s deeper, it kindles that fire in her, a singular spark that could turn into a blaze. Maybe, it would be enough to burn away the thoughts that threaten to drag her down, down, down.

“That was mine,” he says quietly.

She smiles sweetly, “Was it? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

His eyes don’t move from her lips, “I’ve had a long day, Princess.”

“Oh do tell.” The glass in her hand fills on its own, a gift from the house, she sips slowly. “I do hope you weren’t sulking all day.”

Azriel leans forward, arms resting on the table between them. Earlier it had felt like the only barrier keeping them from tearing into each other, now, it felt much the same.

“Sulking over what, exactly?” His head tilts to the side, examining her, “Over a stubborn female who’s ready to run head first into her death?”

And just like that the fire turns from a gentle heat to a roaring in her blood, and not in the way she wanted it to. There was something about the way he looked at her, the infuriating way he’d looked all morning during their fight, that has her fire burning again. Fight, fight, fight. She wanted to fight and burn and take all of this storming emotion inside of her out on him, and it would seem he was finally ready to do the same.

“I see you’ve still got your panties in a twist over this,” she grins, showing off her canines, “Did you think you could just kiss me and I’d fall at your feet and let you go over protective fae male on me?”

His eyes drop to her lips, “I’d think you’d have wanted to actually survive long enough to make it home to your family.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she snaps, “But you and your busybody court won’t get out of my way.”

“So you can get yourself killed?” His gaze is darker, filled with that rage and something more, “So you can throw yourself in front of a vengeful god that wants you dead, leaving the portal open to it, get all of us killed in your reckless, idiotic, selfish attempt.”

He’s right, she knows that, whatever god has it out for her won’t stop until she’s dead, and after that, who knows what it will do with the lock. She sees his reasoning, she understands it, but she’s geared for a fight and that fire fuels her.

“If you’d let me try,” she snarls, “give me the damned book and figure out how to open the right gate-“

“No.” His voice is soft, a simmering heat lacing it, “You are not going anywhere near that book, you are not trying that fucking gate again, you are not leaving-“

“Leaving what, who? Leaving you?” There’s a raging fire in her eyes, in her blood, in the pit of her stomach, it begs for her to burn with it, she chases the feeling so she doesn’t feel the emptiness from before. “Was my mouth so good that you can’t stand to let me go?”

That narrow focus on her mouth sends a thrill through her, “Is it so shocking that I actually care about your wellbeing, you absolute fucking brat.”

Her grin is feline, “I have a feeling you like brats, shadowsinger.”

Azriel is standing, leaning over the table, wings flared in the perfect picture of a wrathful god. Her eyes skate over him, down those sculpted arms to the hands that look ready to wring her neck. He could easily wrap one of his large hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her, could make her see stars.

When her eyes travel back up to his, she could melt with the heat in them. This is exactly what she wanted, rile him up, get him to either punch her or fuck her, she didn’t quite care which, only that he made her feel something other than nothing.

“Listen, Princess.” Gods his voice was gravely, laced with anger and something that made her toes curl in her boots. “I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”

“And what exactly am I doing, Azriel” she lets her voice drop low when she says his name, lifting that glass of wine to her mouth.

His hand snaps out, practically ripping the glass from her hand, “You think you can get under my skin, make me angry enough, make me want to put you in your damned place.”

She was on fire, burning and burning. A noise almost slips off her tongue as he turns the glass, placing his mouth directly on the spot hers had been, and throws the whole thing back, the strong column of his throat on perfect display to her. A primal part of her wants to sink her teeth into the flesh and leave her mark on him.

Azriel slams the glass down on the table, a crack forming in its stem, “You want me to make you feel something, you want to act like a brat to hide how fucking scared and lonely you feel.”

The heat stops, everything stops as he continues, “You want me to be your gods damned distraction from that fucking void in your chest.

“Fuck you,” she snarls, standing to copy his stance, leaning across that table like she’d jump it and tear his throat out instead of laying her claim, “you’re a piece of shit, shadowsinger.”

He leans in closer, close enough she can smell the wine on his breath, “I’ll take you when you’re done being a coward, Princess.”

And like it meant nothing, that soul baring sentence, he turns and stalks out of the room, shadows trailing behind him like they were trying to stay.

The glass is flying through the air, shattering on the arch of the doorway, and those lingering shadows scatter.

He felt like he was that glass, exploding into a million pieces. It took every ounce of self control to keep walking, to keep dampening that bond he could so strongly feel now that he was aware of it. He could feel her on the other side of that tendril of shadow, raging, desperate, scared, and lonely. So gods damned lonely.

Azriel understood the feeling, he’d felt it all day since the moment Rhys has spoken those words, his mate. He’d collapsed, no longer able to support himself and he’d spent those agonizing hours crying, letting Cassian and Rhys bear his weight. How cruel was fate to bring her to him, this female of pine and snow and fire that reminded him of home, this female that would eventually have to leave him.

His mate, a storm of ice, wind, and fire on the other side of that tendril of shadow that connected them. His mate, the warrior who’d handed him his ass on more than one occasion, who could get beneath his skin more than anyone he’d ever known. His mate, the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

He’d felt her from the River house, the way her thoughts had spiraled out of control, the rage draining into nothingness, it scared the shit out of him, enough that he’d started to pull himself together, using his brothers to haul himself off the floor. It had taken longer than he would’ve liked to make himself presentable, to force his wings to work to take him to her, to dampen that bond so she wouldn’t feel the agony he was in.

When he’d seen her there, broken and lost, he needed to get her back, desperately needed her to come back from that edge. He was willing to shove his own agony into a box and put on a mask. He tugged once on that bond, begging her to fight it. And when she'd started to come back, when she started to play with him, he kept going, stoking that fire anyway he could, he brought back the rage from that morning, the desire in his blood, and they fought and pushed at each other.

He felt that primal urge to claim her right then and there, but he couldn't. He could feel her on the other side, feel the lust and fire, feel the despair hidden beneath. She wanted a distraction, not him, she wanted to hide from everything she was feeling and Azriel desperately wanted to do it, to take her over that table, over and over, to scream that she was his mate, to claim her as his. Instead he’d called her a coward, he really meant it about himself.

Azriel was terrified, to bare his soul only to have it ripped away through a gate across the stars. He would fall at her feet and she would still leave him, he wasn’t enough to make her stay, he knew that. She had a destiny, she would be a Queen in a far away land, and she would one day find a consort who would be able to stay by her side, love her, cherish her.

He felt sick. Barely making it to his room and into the bathroom before he heaved the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Azriel couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the spasms in his abdomen, couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face.

The mother was cruel, so very cruel.

Y/n couldn’t go back to her room, couldn’t be that close to him, she wasn’t sure what she would do if she was. Would she take her dagger to his throat, would she take all the rage in her blood and kill him, or would she cave into the desperate need to kiss him, to turn that anger into passion. Both options were bad ideas, enough that she begged the house to show her to a room as far away as possible.

When she woke with the sunrise, the unfamiliar room nearly sent her into a panic before the night before crashed back into her. All the pain and longing, the fire and rage, the numbness and loneliness. It was to much, these feelings, she felt like she was drowning in them, she needed to get out, get as far away as possible.

She was dressed and out the door, practically running down the halls to the closest balcony. The door was already open for her, the breeze welcoming her as she shifted and leapt of the edge, flying into the sunrise beyond.

She didn’t turn back, didn’t look to see the male who’s gaze she could feel like a brand across her back.

Two days had passed since Azriel watched her take off from the balcony across the house. He’d nearly flown after her, with how fast she was he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to catch her. But instead he just watched, watched as his mate flew as fast and as far away from him as she possibly could.

He’d waited for hours, scanning the skies for that majestic hawk form, but she didn’t come back. The bond grew fainter and fainter as she drifted farther and farther away. That was when the panic had set in. She didn’t know these lands, the creatures within, the fae who lurked in the shadows. Y/n was a warrior, a talented one at that, yet Azriel couldn’t help the fear that she would be hurt.

Cassian had found him on that ledge, had forced him inside, had forced him to eat, to sit down and gods damned breathe for a minute. And he’d stayed with him the rest of the day, through the night and the day after. The only thing that kept Azriel from losing control completely was that thread, no matter how faint, he could still feel her on the other side.

She was alive, burning, those swirling emotions screaming down the bond. Anger, despair, loneliness, longing, fear, so many emotions that mirrored everything Azriel felt. He wondered how much of it was her and how much of it was him.

By the end of the second day, sheer exhaustion had him falling into bed, his brother closing the door behind him to go find his own bed, his mate in it. Azriel was to tired to say anything, even the thank you Cassian deserved for staying with him, for holding him together.

Sleep took him, and he welcomed the blissful darkness.

Wake up, wake, she’s back, wake up, she’s here, outside, back. His body jolts, startled awake by the whispering shadows around his head. Even without them telling him, he knew she was back, could feel her close on the other side of that tether. Closer and closer she grew, coming down the hall towards him. He didn’t think, didn’t stop, just ran to the door, hauling it open to see her standing there, her back turned to him, hand resting on her own door.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

His voice is gravely, still heavy with sleep and lingering emotions that comes to the forefront as soon as her scent hits him.

“None of your business.” It lacks her usual snark, no heat behind it, “It’s late, I’m tired.”

His hand moves on its own, fingers wrapping around her bicep and pulling, rougher than he meant to be but in that moment he didn’t have it in him to care. He’d spent the last two days worrying, scared shitless over where she could be, he couldn’t control the fierce heat that rose in his blood.

She looks up at him, eyes ice cold, “What do you want?”

“Where have you been?” He repeats, each word sharp and short, “You can’t just disappear for two days and expect me to just-“

“Oh fuck off,” she snarls, “I don’t owe you shit, shadowsinger.”

He can feel the spark of anger in her, and it mirrors his own. She’d ran away, flown off to who knows where, and left him. She left him.

“It’s a simple question, Princess.” He pulls her closer to him, looking down at her, “Why do you have to make everything so difficult.”

She gives him one of those sweet little smiles that makes him see red, makes the reins on his control snap. His hand shoots up, wrapping behind her neck and gripping a handful of her hair, pulling so she’s looking up at him. Her mouth opens, most likely to yell at him, to snarl and snap those lethal teeth at his throat, but he doesn’t give her the chance.

Their lips crash together, viciously devouring each other. Azriel pours every emotion he had felt in the past few days into it, the heat and anger, the despair and loneliness, the desire. He decided then that he didn’t care, he would take what she would give him, would be her distraction, would lay his soul bear for her, would let her rip his heart from his chest to bring it with her when she left him behind. He didn’t care that it would kill him to let her leave, to let her leave and never know that he was her mate, he didn’t care, he needed her, needed to feel her, to worship her.

He holds her to him, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other gripping her hair to keep her exactly where he wants her. Her hand grips his arm, nails digging into the flesh, her other grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him impossibly closer.

There was no softness, no gentle touch and soft passion, it was hard and painful. Her teeth drawing blood from his lip where she bites him, his hand bruising her sides where he holds her.

“You’re a fucking prick,” she snarls against him, pulling away just enough that he can still feel her lips against his.

The hand in her hair roughly pulls, forcing her back so that he can look her in the eyes, he notes the small moan that she tries to hold back, “You’re infuriating, Princess.”

She presses closer to him and he almost hisses at the contact, “I can feel just how infuriated you are, shadowsinger.”

He lets go of her hair, reaching down to her thighs to hoist her up. Her legs wrap around his hips as he presses her body into the door behind her. The sound she makes almost brings him to his knees. He can feel her pressed against him, his cock straining in his leathers.

“I can’t stand you.” Her head falls back against the door, letting him trail his lips and tongue down her throat, “You insufferable male."

He finds her pulse and nips at the sensitive spot. It draws a heady sigh from her lips, he does it again just so he can hear that sweet sound. She claws at his back as he wraps is lips around that spot, writhing against him as he leaves a deep purple mark. Azriel has to grip her thighs even harder to keep her still, or he’d lose his mind completely and take her against the wall.

“Gods,” she pants, “Azriel please.”

He kisses that claiming mark, “Please what, Princess?”

She lets out a soft growl, pushing his face away from her neck. Her lips find his again, her nails digging painfully into his cheek. He groans into it and holds her up with one arm, using the other to unlatch the door. It swings open and he takes them inside, slamming it shut behind him. Only the soft moon light illuminates the space, Azriel doesn’t need it to find her bed.

He practically throws her onto the center of it, grinning at the feral hiss she lets out, “I’m not a damned rag doll, you bastard.”

Y/n props herself up on her elbows, looking up at him with those eyes on fire. She looks delicious in the soft light, hair a mess, lips swollen, that mark on her neck a deep dark purple. A sick sense of purely male pride overwhelms him, she would walk around with that bruise for days, and everyone would know she belonged to him.

“No of course not,” he smirks, slowly crawling onto the bed, over her, caging her in, “A rag doll wouldn’t talk back this much.”

“I hate you,” she sighs, glaring up at him.

“That’s fine.” It wasn’t, it was the opposite of fine. “You can hate me all you want.”

He doesn’t let her respond, doesn’t let her wield that poison tipped tongue to open the wound in his heart anymore. Instead, his scarred hands grip the soft material of her shirt and rips.

Azriel groans at the sight, and Y/n gasps as the chilled air drifts across her exposed chest. Soft and perfect, large and heavy, Azriel takes her in, the valley between that leads down to her belly, the curve of her waist, he devours her with his eyes. Her arms lift to cover herself but his fingers wrap around her wrists and pins them roughly above her head. He wouldn’t let her hide from him.

“Beautiful, so gods damned perfect,” he growls, leaning down to capture one of the peaks in his mouth.

Her back arches off the bed, pressing closer to his tongue, to his teeth that pinch the little bud, drawing a sharp gasp from her. He keeps her wrists in one hand, the other trailing down to her chest, gripping the soft flesh in his palm and squeezing. He groans against her, keeping his hold on her wrist despite the way she writhes and pulls against him. The most devastatingly melodic sounds fall from her lips, moans and pleading sighs.

“What do you want, Princess?” He asks, trailing kisses across her soft skin, leaving those claiming bruises as he goes, “Tell me what you want.”

“More,” she groans, hissing when he takes a nipple between his fingers, squeezing and rolling it without mercy, “More, I need more, I need to touch you.”

He grins, “Don’t be greedy, Princess.”

She growls and pulls against the hold on her wrists, desperately trying to break free of his iron grip. Of course she’d fight him, even now when he was ready to lay the world at her feet, she would fight him. He lets her win, lets her rip her hands from his, lets her use those claws to rip at his shirt, tearing it from his body like he’d done to her.

“Did that make you feel better?” He taunts, smirking at the way her eyes take him in.

“Shut up.”

Her hands trace the tattoos across his chest, nails dragging across him with just enough pressure to draw a hiss from his lips. Violent, wicked, beautiful. She was perfect, so damned perfect.

He drops his lips to the valley between her breasts, kissing down the plane of her stomach while his fingers deftly work at the ties of her leathers. Her hands drag through his hair, tugging at the strands as she gasps and moans at every touch.

Azriel makes quick work of her leathers, roughly tugging them down her thighs, throwing them behind them without care. Her scent washes over him, sweet arousal that has him growling low in his chest. The delicate black fabric covering her center is easy to tear off her body, revealing all of her to him.

“Look at you,” he groans, sitting back on his heels so he could see all of her, “Perfect, absolutely perfect.”

“I told you I was your type,” she breathes, that saccharine on her lips.

Azriel shifts, placing himself directly between her legs, his scarred hands pushing apart her thighs so he could see her dripping for him. His fingers dig into her strong thighs, more bruises for her to wear.

“Az,” she whines, glaring through her heavy lidded eyes, “don’t just stare, do some-“

Her pleas turn into desperate moans as he drops his head to her, laying down between her thighs so he can properly worship her. He runs is tongue directly over her center, tasting her like she was his last meal to savor. So impossibly sweet, her taste has him growling against her.

“Fuck, Az,” Y/n practically screams, rolling her hips as his tongue circles the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

He could do this for hours, flattening his tongue against her, sucking, biting, bringing out those noises that sound like music to his ears. The hands in his hair pull and push like she can’t tell if she needs him closer or to stop, he has to pin her to the bed with his arm to stop her from writhing away.

He can feel her on the other side of the bond no matter how hard he tries to dampen in, can feel the intense pleasure, it ripples through him, making him strain against his leathers uncomfortably. He has to press his hips into the bed to relieve some of the pain of it.

“Gods damnit,” she gasps, “Az, I- fuck.”

He’s half tempted to taunt her for the way she stumbles over the words, but to do that he’d have to take his mouth off of her and he wasn’t willing to do that. Instead, he takes is free hand, softly tracing it up her thigh, until it’s posed at her entrance. He uses a single scarred finger, dragging it through her wetness. Her hips desperately try to chase the digit and he laughs against her, sending a shiver through her at the vibration.

“Please,” she begs, and it’s the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, “Az, please.”

Azriel doesn’t hesitate to plunge into her, groaning at the feeling, grinding his cock into the bed. She’s moaning and cursing as he curls his finger to find that spot inside that would make her see stars, that would have her coming undone on his tongue. When she screams his name, he knows he’s found it and he keeps brushing the spot over and over as his mouth devours her clit. He adds a second finger, the tight stretch around them nearly enough to send him over the edge.

“Az, don’t stop,” Y/n gasps, head thrown back in pleasure, “please I-“

There on the other side of that tendril of shadow he feels the band in the pit of her stomach tighten and tighten. His tongue flattens against her, his fingers curl, and that band snaps.

He doesn’t stop, keeps rolling his tongue over her, keeps moving his fingers as the shocks run through her, his arm pinning her down as she writhes beneath him. Wave after wave after wave until she’s pulling away from him, trying to escape the pleasure that slowly turns into delicious pain.

“Az, please,” Y/n sobs, “I can’t, fuck, please.”

It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to pry himself away, the way she gasps as his fingers pull out of her makes him want to go right back in. Addictive, she is absolutely addictive.

Y/n goes limp beneath him, panting like she’d ran a marathon, he’s half tempted to tease her for that too if she didn’t look so tired. Eyes heavy like she was fighting to stay awake.

It only hits him then that she had been out, Mother knows where, for days, flying far enough away that he could barely feel her through the bond. She had to be exhausted, and Azriel had throughly worn out any energy she might have had left.

He pulls away, tugging down the rumpled sheets. She doesn’t acknowledge what he’s doing, not until he’s carefully wrapping his arms around her, one behind her back the other below her legs. She’s almost limp in his arm as he gently lays her at the head of the bed.

“What are you doing?” She asks, voice hoarse, “What about you?”

His cock was begging for attention, begging for her hand, for her mouth, for her cunt. He’d need to take care of himself to get rid of the aching need.

Azriel brings the duvet up to her chin, “I’m fine, Princess. You need to sleep.”

“But-“

He grins down at her, leaning down to brush his lips across her cheek, “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. I have a whole list of ways to ravish you. You’ll be begging me to let you sleep.”

A soft whine, “Az, I want-“

“Sleep, Princess.” He stands, moving towards the door, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Azriel has to force himself to take each step away from her when everything in him is screaming for him to turn around and take everything she had to offer. His shadows plead with him to stop, to do just that, pulling back towards her against the tight reins he keeps on them.

“Az.” The softest whisper, he almost doesn’t hear it, “Stay, please.”

Y/n looks at him, those eyes still heavy with sleep and an emotion so raw, so open, that he can’t help it when he says, “Of course, Princess.”

Tag list

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[mythicmanuscripts]

need sweet baby sub!jace crying while you ride him pretty pretty please, all doe eyed and whimpery and grabby and pleading <3

Anon you get it, you absolutely get it. Truly a visionary anon this is so so so good.

Soft, NSFW sub!Jace under the cut :))

So firstly, I love how we're all in agreement that the moment things get heated with Jace he just turns into the sweetest little thing? He loses any and all confidence and just turn kinda melts into you, communicating mostly through little whines and trusting you to make him feel good.

He'll be confident and bold leading up to it. But then the bedroom door closes and you kiss him properly and then he's just done for, cause he knows now that he doesn't need to try and be put together because you've got him.

One of your favourite things to do is to kiss Jace silly and then ask him what he wants. The poor thing has no idea what to say or what to do! He can't think! You can't make him think, how dare you??

"Come on," you'll say, kissing his jaw before you continue and say, "what do you want? Mm, how can I help you?"

He whines in frustration and clings to you, trying to get his head to work well enough to speak. Eventually he'll manage to say 'you' and then you tease him even more, telling him that you're right here, so he has everything he wants then, right?

Before he can respond, you let your hand gently graze his crotch and then there's absolutely zero chance of him responding. He's completely done then, zero words in his cute little head, absolutely none.

You decide you want to ride him, so you tell him that he can prep you and eat you out. The moment you say that he's instantly trying to get your underclothes off cause he wants to do it!! He absolutely loves eating you out, you can't just say that and then not allow him to immediately do it.

He's so happy as he gets to eat you out, literally whining you because this is quite possibly his favourite thing to do ever.

You have to tug at his hair to get him to stop, and he's all whiney and glossy eyed, not wanting to stop. But of course he listens and then lets you position him however you want.

When you slowly sink down on his cock, the whine he lets out is fucking sinful. You stay sitting for a moment, adjusting to the feeling while Jace just whines and pants, trying to get used to the feeling even though you both know he'll never get used to this.

He throws his head back and grips your hips, trying desperately to calm down. You gently take his chin with your hand and make him look at you. You kiss him and then slowly rise up and sink back down.

Jace is an absolute mess from the start, and he's pretty much absolutely useless. You can use his body however you want, but he's certainly not going to be much help. He can't even string a sentence together nevermind managing to match a rhythm by bucking his hips up.

But that's more than okay. He more than makes up for it just by the absolutely insane view you get. His whole face and chest are flushed, tears gathering in his eyes as he lets out a near constant flow of little whines and moans. He just gets so overwhelmed that all he can do is desperately try to keep himself together as best he can.

I love the idea that he gets all grabby? He has no idea where to put his hands! He wants to touch you absolutely everywhere but he only has two hands. If you move his hands somewhere, then he will do his very best to keep them there because he would never ever want to disobey you.

But if you don't? Then his hands are constantly moving, from your hips to your waist to your thighs to your breast and tummy and just anywhere he can reach. And he's so gentle with it? Every single touch is like he's afraid you'll break, just the most gentle little strokes until hew starts to get close, then he'll end up gripping your hips or thighs as he tries to hold on.

As he gets close, the tears that were gathering in his eyes start to fall, and that's how you know he's very close to the end of his rope.

You cup his cheek with your hand, wiping his tears away from your thumb and then before you can move your hand, he turns his head and takes your thumb into his mouth. He sucks on his gently, whining when you move your hand and trying to chase it.

He's never done that before, but fuck if it wasn't so hot and also just so so sweet.

"You want so suck on something?" you ask him gently, smirking when he whines and nods and opens his mouth.

And well, who are you to deny him? Maybe, just to make him go absolutely insane, you move your hand down to touch yourself and then let Jace suck on two of your fingers so he can taste you.

Which... he comes pretty much instantly but that's exactly what you expected.

Once you've been with Jace for a while, you start to enjoy staying sitting on him for a little longer after he's cum just to watch him squirm and whine and start to get overstimulated. Jace used to hate that when he was on his own, but with you it can be nice? Cause you wipe his teats away and hold him close and when you do get of him, he knows you'll immediately pull him into your arms and let him recover.

So in conclusion, yup he is a mess and it is so so very attractive.

(Sidenote: I think Jace would lose if you lead him around by his waist?? His mind just immediately turns off and if you don't start kissing him soon then he will start pouting and begging)

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Hi I love your work! Would you have any sfw + nsfw relationship headcanons for So’lek x fem Sarentu Na’vi? I’m playing AFoP right now and I’m looking for crumbs in every in-game interaction lol

Pairing: So'lek/Fem!Sarentu!Reader

Taglist: @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @neteyamsyawntu

Warnings: nsfw (will be under the cut), minors dni

A/n: Using my favorite picture I ever took while playing AFoP 💕 Imagine that's how he looked when you walked into the room.

Also, my first headcanon request! Yay!

~~~~~~~~~

Sfw:

This man trusts you with his life and therefore trusts you are safe and loyal to him, no matter how far or how long you two are apart. (Doesn't mean he trusts Eetu to keep his overconfident hands to himself)

You're constantly traveling and never in one place for long, and while he used to be the same way, he finds himself staying in a chosen few places for long periods of time so that you can easily find him.

While he isn't much for PDA, he's still Na'vi, and he is going to grab your tail, both publicly and privately.

After losing his own clan, he understands exactly what you need to finally and properly mourn the loss of the Sarentu. He gives you what he wished he could've accepted from others after the loss of his people.

Doesn't like it when people tease him about your love. He takes your relationship very seriously and doesn't see the teasing as lighthearted. Priya learns quickly that he's more broody if your relationship comes up in the conversation.

And it's not like he's ashamed of your relationship. He's very proud of it, thank you very much. Even though he isn't into PDA, he still properly courts you in Na'vi tradition like you deserve. He wants you to experience Na'vi traditions since you never had them growing up.

He forces himself to appreciate the Sky People's communication devices because they ease his worries when he's able to talk to you from long distances. Yes, he trusts you to be safe, but he can't trust the rest of Pandora to do the same.

Takes his role as Big Brother to the rest of the Sarentu (Ri'nela, Nor, and Teylan) very seriously since you clearly trust him to guide your family when you're traveling and away from home.

Nsfw (minors dni):

I've said it once, and I'll say it again, this man has ZERO shame when he's eating you out. He's hungry, and he's messy. He's not gonna care how loud or disgusting it sounds.

I wouldn't be surprised if he spent a whole night with his mouth between your legs. I doubt this man has had any action during his life of solitude and path of revenge, so he's going to make up for lost time. If he's craving your taste, you better let him ravage you.

He's one of those lovers who refuses to pleasure himself unless it's to pleasure you, your care and well-being first and foremost in his mind. He doesn't care if it physically hurts not being able to cum, he's going to make sure you cum first. Please please PLEASE give him just as much attention because he deserves it. 🙏

When you two finally mate and form tsaheylu, he's supporting your weight as he takes you up against the nearest tree, being as gentle as physically possibly even with your gummy walls hugging his cock so deliciously. It takes a lot of his strength and willpower not to rail you right away. Since you're bonding for the first time, he wants it to be prolonged and intense. He wants to take his time.

Another reason why he sometimes refuses to cum is because believe it not, he doesn't have a breeding kink. At least not yet. He's not oblivious of the world around you, and even in his frenzied need to have every part of you, he remembers the war and how it's no place to start a family, no matter how much the both of you might want it.

He refuses to budge on the matter, and you need to respect that boundary. So you try other ways to get him to cum. Having him fuck you between the thighs was the best idea since the human invention of sliced bread. He. Loves. It. You have to hold onto his tail because it's always thrashing wildly behind him as he grinds his leaking cock into the tight space where you clench your thighs.

This man has been so deprived that when he cums, he cums a lot. A LOT. It's a shame none if that goes inside you 🫣 what a shame.

Growls. Enough said.

Actually, no, not enough said. Growls between your legs and the vibration puts toys to shame.

Mating bites 🫦 but they're mostly hidden between your thighs, under your loincloth. You definitely feel them as you walk around, and that is one of the little things in life between you and him that gets So'lek to smile.

~~~~~~~~~

I will happily write more about this!

RULES

REQUEST

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

[liesineyes]

Okay, now that I took that off my chest, here's some episode six thoughts -

- Charlie backhanding Willy and Babe struggling to hold him back was exactly what I was expecting. But honestly it is crazy how the show totally glosses over sexual assault. Like they want to go extreme but without taking any accountability.

- Honestly, the sexual assault was 101% Willy's fault but Babe is also at fault (not the sa) for hiding all of this from Charlie, sneaking around to text Willy and all and then removing his ring and showing himself as though he is available to Willy knowing well that Willy has been constantly pushing his boundaries from day one. I mean I am not sure what Babe was expecting would happen, like what exactly was his plan? Show Willy he is interested and then Willy would tell his special sense and Babe would be like 'you bitch I was just playing you?'

- The whole Babe trying to explain but with 'I had my reasons' 'I didn't go further' like sir, you removed your ring to show yourself as available and then instead of explaining you are hitting Charlie with 'you don't give me time, I am lonely' what were the writers thinking writing such dialogues from Babe in this context?

Alan asking Babe to apologise to Charlie and Babe:

I don't know if I want to mirror Alan's expression or laugh at the absurdity. Though Pavel crying made me want to jump through the screen and hug Babe.

- I'm glad Jeff is reasoning with Charlie about Babe's decisions better than Babe explained himself because Charlie needed to hear that to cool down.

- Also, Okay. OKAY. Kim casually feeding Kenta? I am sorry!? Did I just see that? Like he made food for Kenta canonically and then fed him with his own two hands!? I am completely and fully sane about this (no I am not.)

- Pete trying and failing, I swear he is setting himself up for being dumped by Chris. Also the fact even Pete knows why Charlie wants this drug to work but the show implies Babe thinks Charlie doesn't think of him at all when he does something. (Also I want to talk' about how Babe actually didn't think of Charlie's feelings when he accepted the bet with Willy with his own ass on bet. Or when he followed after Willy, in the sauna so Charlie saying that actually made sense but Babe? I am sorry that was such a misfit dialogue from Babe because Charlie doesn't even have much of a personality beyond Babe - in the show only though)

The communication gap between them is stressing me out. How is it that everyone but these two idiots know about each other!?

- Sonic-North - I thought these guys were supposed to serve me friends to lovers but I am kinda disappointed with their story's progression. Feels like every couple is getting more than them, but this is what happens when you so many couples.

- I'm probably going to be the minority here but I think Alan is not a good captain at all. He is a good father figure/friend to them but the fact he is always like team team team but the only plan he has is where everyone helps Babe win the race. Be it Dean, Kim, North or Charlie. Anyone who tries to overtake Babe on the race track, Alan immediately goes into 'It is a team, you have to think of the team, cover for Babe, let Babe take the lead'. Like I genuinely have zero idea about racing cars, so I can be wrong but like if it was one person, I would understand but there's four now. Alan needs to figure out if he can even provide equal opportunities to all his team members or they are there just to cover up for Babe so Babe could win.

- I'm not surprised Willy is with Tony but I've a feeling he might flip sides like Kenta later on? He did look rattled on hearing Tony say take everyone around Charlie down.

- And Charlie is a weak weak man when it comes to Babe (I mean who wouldn't be? Babe should be bubbled wrapped and protected all the time.) But can we talk about them fucking the first chance they get to talk properly? like ✨ communication✨

This is getting way too long, okay I will stop here. But I liked this episode if you ignore the bad writing at places.

[riddle-me-ri]

HELLO

I JUST FINISHED MY FINALS

AND ALSO HAPPY PRIDE🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

(Very late for this, tests are draining my soul lol)

Can you write headcanons for all Ed's on how they celebrate pride month with their S/O?

Happy pride month!

-🥔

a/n: AHH CONGRATS POTATO I’m sure you did the best you could! God I-I don’t miss finals season AT ALL and HAPPY PRIDE MONTH! Also also I know you guys are likely going to ask for the rest of the Rogues…I’m gonna try and do the others but I will be busy this month with personal matters but hopefully I’ll get them done in time for pride month! But don’t be surprised if it’s…a tad late asdfh

The Riddlers Celebrating Pride Month w/ Their S/O

Arkhamverse Riddler:

- Ed lets you celebrate by allowing you to finally show off your pride colors and NOT just green!

- This is actually one of the few parades/celebrations the city hosts that he can actually get behind–

- What? No, he can’t attend…hahaha someone as prideful as him should attend, how funny…

- But do you have any idea how much work he has to get done? While everyone's out and about, he has ample time to place trophies!

- Eddie is stunned when he sees you sport his orientation colors (if you chose to headcanon him having any)...

- While, he can’t guarantee he can go…please take a riddler bot in case any bigots show up…

- And yes the robot’s colors are reconfigured to your orientation colors.

Dano/Reevesverse Riddler:

- Edward has always had a passing admiration for Pride month.

- Not that he’d think he would ever properly participate in any festivities, until he met you.

- You help inform of all the various orientations and sexualities…something Edward hadn’t quite thought about in a long time.

- He knew they existed just never sure where he’d fit in…or if he’d fit in at all.

- It definitely brings the two of you closer as a couple.

- Edward does worry about your safety–so he tends whatever festival or parade may be going on.

- It is one month that he feels the most comfortable with himself…

- And being able to celebrate it with you makes it all the more special.

Gotham Riddler:

- This nerd has a historical fact about LGBTQIA+ and the community and history for every day of Pride Month and then some.

- You even learn some things you didn’t even know about.

- Has some recommendations for shops and books by members of the community—

- Chats with Oswald about having Pride theme parties at the Iceberg Lounge, with you as his plus one of course.

- He’s more likely to invite you to a parade or festival before you can invite him!

- Edward has always usually celebrated in silence–

- But now with his confidence and a supportive partner such as you, it just makes the month all the more fun!

BTAS Riddler:

- Like Gotham Riddler, he definitely knows a handful of facts and significance towards the month.

- He’s more than delighted to partake in any and all activities you wish to attend.

- Eddie is likely to inquire about your journey and your process (that is if you’re comfortable with it of course)

- He will share his in return, it’s only fair.

- Definitely knows about some games that were developed by someone of the LGBTQIA+ community he will let you try out and play.

- It’s a month you both look forward to now that you have someone to celebrate with.

Zero Year/Capullo Riddler:

- Edward usually never cared too much to participate in the month.

- Although he definitely believes he can align himself with a certain sexuality or orientation..

- There was just never any time or true desire to partake in them.

- He wasn’t necessarily in the closet, but he didn’t go out of his way to say anything, albeit he never had to–what with his attraction doing the talking.

- But he supposes, to keep you entertained he’ll partake in an activity or two.

Telltale Riddler:

- Okay, he’s a boomer, but not a bigot.

- You’ll definitely spend some of the month explaining some of the different orientations and their respective flag colors.

- Edward is honestly impressed to see how far and big Pride has become–

- Given his age he’s likely to remember a time where most stayed in the closet for safety.

- It does please him and bring a smile to his face.

- If he hears of any riots or protests looking to interfere with any Pride activities–he wouldn’t be opposed to taking them out peacefully and quietly.

Young Justice Riddler:

- Wait, what, really? You wanna celebrate with him?

- W-Well, sure! What do you want to do?

- He may be anxious about going to his first Pride festival/parade, but he does end up having a blast especially being with you.

- Will be down to having you face paint his flag on his cheek for the event.

- Eddie will also likely share some facts or insights he’s learned in the past…

- Eddie may take this time to also let you in on some past tribulations he's had to try and find himself…

- And get to remind himself how grateful he is to have someone like you by his side.

[physalian]

Character Types: The “Fixer”

Oh look it’s another chance to bring exposure to casual traumas in real people thinly disguised as writing advice heyyyyy

The “Fixer” is the character who puts everyone else before themselves, but isn’t quite so self-destructive as the jaded loner—this person’s whole schtick is that everyone else’s needs and emotions come first, which will usually end up with them behaving and appearing very extroverted, fun, and kind.

They have no idea they’re doing it, either, and see nothing wrong with their behavior or what logic there is in saving a little slice of the pie for themselves. They’re not self-loathers or angsty abusers and if there are parts of themselves that they don’t like, they probably think of these aspects as “what can you do? Oh well” with zero motivation to exercise their demons, because they don't see them as demons but something they deserve to suffer with.

Or, they know exactly what they’re doing and cannot see the merit at all in themselves deserving a piece of the pie, as if they’re inherently lesser than everyone around them for Reasons they cannot articulate, Reasons that, if their friends or loved ones share the exact same traits, they’d bend over backwards and make excuses for. They have normalized their existence that there’s nothing left to angst over. “I am lesser” is just. A statement of fact.

These characters come in several flavors:

The parental figure (possibly single) or “mature” one in the family who’s always prepared, always has the big backpack with bandaids and wet-naps, probably the first to say “we’re family, all’s forgiven” in effort to keep the peace.  They’re the person who literally eats last or not at all, even when conserving food isn’t necessary, usually with the smallest, now-cold serving. Also can be the parentified sibling.

The person in a romantic relationship doing a whole lot more giving than receiving, whether it’s physically or emotionally, insisting that they’re fine, that their partner need not go out of their way to do XYZ for them, but is incredibly in tune with anything and everything that their partner might need. They’re likely to be in an abusive relationship, either emotionally or physically, or both, because a sensible partner who loves Fixer as much as the Fixer loves them wouldn’t let Fixer get away with an unfair share of back-breaking emotional labor. The abuser takes full advantage of it and laughs when they’re not looking.

The “mom” of the hero team/friend group, similar to the actual parental figure, but in this dynamic, everyone’s about the same age. The Fixer probably isn’t the leader, but second or third in command, as they don’t think themselves capable of making the Big Decisions and prefer running support. They take the most cramped bedroom, the most undesirable odd jobs, and do far more than their share of the chores and other tasks, probably without the rest of the group realizing it until something happens to them. No one asks this of them, they automatically assume this is their burden and don’t even think to suggest equal shares.

Alternate case:

They’re the “leader” because no one else wants to do the job, pretending to be way less stressed than they are and habitually protecting their team from the worst of it with little white lies, to the point where no one has any idea how much they’re suffering in silence until they eventually break. As opposed to a properly communicative leader who regularly delegates important tasks and is very transparent in all their decisions. They might also be the leader because they don’t think anyone else in their team could perform as well under pressure, pressure they’ve been under their whole life.

I actually wrote two of these, the Original, and then the Original Who Went to Therapy, between two different WIPs.

Original was the second in command of a plucky space crew in the sci-fi WIP I always mention, who was very versatile and OP and thus took it upon himself to take the lion’s share of the work around the ship because he could do it quickly and delegating the tasks to the rest of the crew was, to him, objectively pointless. He was also an empath with an ability he couldn’t turn off, literally stuck doing the emotional labor far and above normal human conditions.

He was a firm believer in “if I can, I must” and repeatedly put himself in dangerous situations because he’s the only one who could escape them alive, and to not act would be selfish, and above all else, he feared looking selfish. This all came to a head when Magical Shenanigans ensued and his own powers turned against him, stressing him to the point of his body going “we are taking a Break” and he got bedridden until he learned how to talk about his feelings and let people in.

While he was sick, him Not Being There for when the rest of the plot carried on without him meant that  his team very badly felt his absence because he did so much without them realizing it, and they did not handle it well, picking a different character to shovel all the labor onto, until they too overstrained themselves, and an intervention was necessary.

He was the friendliest character of the team to their newest member, their only cheerleader when the whole rest of his team was skeptical. He was also quite desperate for validation and approval, to the point where he made a bunch of little white lies that quickly caught up with him, pretending to be something he’s not so people would like him.

—

When I ripped the above character out of that WIP and tossed him and another character into Eternal Night, he got an upgrade and a whole bunch of therapy.

Enter Dorian. The main difference between these two is that Dorian can actually stand up for himself and establish boundaries, and got a friend/girlfriend who went “I can fix him” and actually did. He’s still very much a Fixer with a Martyr complex, a vampire who only turned to make sure the people he was stuck with held up their end of a deal and did not expect to keep living after the deal was done…for about three hundred and fifty more years.

This is a character who was a parentified Fixer, sixteen years older than his oopsie little sibling, and did not handle it well when they were separated. He’s very obvious to everyone who knows him, especially when those people have known him for centuries, and know “yeah give that one a little kid to protect and he will predictably fall on his own stake”.

One of his love interests (he’s poly), the “I can fix him” girlfriend, is not at all afraid to call him out on his martyr bullshit, or when he’s bending over backwards trying to save people who don’t want to be saved, or risking his own sanity, health, and reputation for people who insist they don’t want his help.

I specifically designed and introduced Kymiria to look and act like a stereotypically jealous mean girl who doesn’t want to share her man with the protagonist. Except. She’s right. About everything. She knows Dorian extremely well and got him through some awful shit and isn’t about to stand by and watch him break himself again for someone who she thinks doesn’t deserve him (and she’s also right on that point). How she goes about protecting him is totally different.

But for the mortals who live with his coven, he’s the most popular vampire around and the favorite by all the children for a country mile. No one who hasn’t been living with him for decades has any idea that there’s anything traumatic behind his smiles.

—

I like writing Fixer characters because I don’t get to see enough of them. They’re not as popular as the Angsty Sad Boy and certainly not as popular as My Trauma Excuses My Aggression Boy. People who have suffered tend to fall on either end of two extremes: Either they continue the cycle of hate and abuse or they make absolutely certain no one in their life will ever suffer what they did. I like writing and reading the latter, particularly when they're men as most “fixers” we think of emphasize “womanly” traits of kindness and nurturing.

These characters are also their own worst enemies. Their inability to treat themselves as deserving of respect and forgive themselves continuously gets them into sticky situations that they wouldn’t be in if they were just a little bit more willing to put their own needs first.

—

If you're interested in reading my take on Fixers in a bona fide novel, check out Eternal Night of the Northern Sky!

[katakaluptastrophy]

Hi! I really love your metas and they’ve cleared up a lot of what I missed when I read the books. I was wondering if I could ask you a question. (Totally fine if not!)

So we know that John killed the entire Solar System because he was angry the trillionaires got to escape a dying Earth and leave of the rest of its inhabitants behind. He details killing Earth, the Sun, the other planets. My question is, what happened to the moons? Did he overlook them? Did the Lyctors get to them later?

I ask because I’m wondering if the moons have anything to do with the Resurrection Beasts and/or their Heralds. Frankly, I’m just curious about what happened to them.

I get that killing a planet and everyone and everything on it would create a Resurrection Beast. But I’m wondering if size matters. Pluto is a dwarf planet. I’m sure there are moons that are larger. I’m not sure whether life-supporting environments mattered either. I can’t recall if any of the planets had stations that could maintain human life before the Resurrection.

John mentioned killing the Sun and later resurrecting it into Dominicus. I thought that was interesting because there is no way humans could have lived near or on the surface of the Sun, so its thalergenic potential would be incredibly limited if not zero, right? But it is now a thanergetic celestial body. Dominicus is remarked upon in the books and seems to have some significance because it is tied to John’s life. (Or was that a lie he told the Lyctors? I don’t remember.)

In comparison, moons get almost no mention. I’m wondering if that’s a choice or if there are just some thalergenic moons in the Dominican System. That seems unlikely to me and I’m wondering at the significance.

Perhaps I’m overthinking it lol. What are your thoughts?

I'm honestly so confused about moons.

There's only two references to moons that I can think of:

Mercymorn says to Harrow "I'm going to go do the moonlet next door. It'll be covered in reflected thalergy." But what is a moonlet, and is this a real phenomenon, or just one she made up as an excuse for Harrow to encounter the BoE crew?

And of course, there's Pyrra's "half-flipped moon", which is again rather confusing - what does it mean to be 'half-flipped'?

John doesn't mention them in his Very Hungry Caterpillar adventures, and there's no direct references to moons from any of the other Housers we meet - with the exception of Gideon using 'moonspeak' to mean something like technobabble or nonsense. There's no specifically moon-based pre-res stations mentioned that I can recall - there's some kind of city on Mars, the Kuiper Platform (perhaps near Neptune), and the shell being built around Uranus. So we can't assume RBs for Jupiter and Saturn came solely from humans living near them.

The Glossary in GTN goes out of its way to specify that "planets and gaseous bodies in space usually produce thalergenic radiation." It further says, "thalergy is produced by cellular growth and reproduction. Most planets, even ones without a biological mass of life, are thalergenic." So that's clear... The waters are further muddied by the explanation we get in HTN, where Harrow says thalergy "comes from the accumulation of microbial life" and John talks about how this produces a "communal soul". From the way John describes it, a revenant seems to the result from any swift planetary murder.

So thalergy is caused by an accumulation of microbial life which creates a communal planetary soul...but gaseous bodies also radiate thalergy?

I think there's two possibilities here.

The first is that we try to treat this as a properly sci fi endeavour to create a fantastical yet scientifically cohesive system, and we assume that perhaps that radiated thalergy Mercymorn describes relates to the idea that anything within the planet's gravitational orbit is part of its communal self. Perhaps the gas giants draw their thalergy from as-yet-undiscovered microbial life on their moons? Perhaps the sun is the sum of the solar system in some way?

The second is to assume that while this story is fiction that portrays scientific understandings in its fictional world, it is fundamentally a story about metaphysics. So the value of a moon is not determined by having a particular amount of microbial life or a specific relationship with another planet, but some mythological or metaphysical purpose - for the most part, moons aren't symbolically important to the story as it's being told.

So perhaps the moons of the solar system are part and parcel with the RBs of their planets.

[ronearoundblindly]

For my favorite Steve 🥰💙🖤 (Fools Rush In)

29. Describe their nighttime routine.

30. What are their respective love languages? Do their love languages work well together?

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

Questions are from this ask game and about this post-Endgame AU with Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader.

29

There's no TV in your shared apartment because there are so, so many monitors on the compound. Steve likes some peace and quiet, to listen to records or the radio, or simply to read. Nighttime offers less drawing inspiration than daylight outdoors, but occasionally he'll putter with some sketching. That's harder to do while sitting right beside you on the couch, or while you lay with your head in his lap (and vice versa). Even if Steve reads, he has one hand on you, resting. In fact, he particularly enjoys books on tape because you two can snuggle and just relax.

This is your time to chat about the day, too, but since not everyday is very exciting, being present is enough.

All that is done in the living room because Steve is a bit of a purist in what you do where. Eat at the table. Relax on the couch. Sleep in the bed. Do not eat in the bed; that's not what it's for. Weird old fart...

It's fine to get sleepy on the couch, but it's very rare to stay asleep there all night.

For the most part, bedtime routines in the bathroom are separate. There's a His & Her's sink in the master bath, so if that's all anyone needs, you brush teeth and wash face side-by-side.

Steve starts out laying on his back with you curled up against his chest and hip. He does progressive relaxation to force his muscles to release tension from the day. He's so bulky now that this is crucial. It helps elongate his spine so when he does turn over to spoon you, Steve is properly gelatinous to mold around the back of your body.

Sometimes, if Steve can tell you're not asleep yet, he'll start humming your song, and he enjoys that he can hear your smile when you chuckle and wiggle deeper into his hold.

He runs hot, so Steve prefers a fan on in the bedroom which serves as low, white noise. He doesn't mind if you need a thicker blanket, however, he just mostly likes the air circulation.

30

If it's not obvious from Steve's nighttime routine, his love language is quality time. He appreciates the quiet moments you spend with him more than most celebrations. Time is precious to Steve Rogers. He understands its value. You giving him your time means everything.

(Not trying to make assumptions about every reader's love language, but I'm gonna wing it for Keeps.)

You thrive on words of affirmation, and Steve becomes better and better at communicating. He starts out so guarded because of the life he leads: his job is acts of service, he doesn't experience physical touch like other, he's...sorta terrible at gift giving, and Steve is being watched and listened to constantly. He's leery of everyone and everything. F.R.I.D.A.Y's everywhere--worse than J.A.R.V.I.S was--which takes a lot of getting used to.

He gets better, though. Steve has had to get comfortable with a lot of new-to-him behaviors. Not that he wouldn't have been nice and communicative with a girlfriend in the '40s, but he never had a girlfriend before. He's had zero practice, and at first, he's very awkward. Eventually, the words come easily, albeit always softly in public. He hates the idea of anyone else being in your relationship. They're there anyway.

Fools's Steve says "I love you" to you often, but the words have about three thousand variations of intonation and subtext, from playful to pissy. If you aren't alone, it's usually whispered.

Other than that, Steve not only tells you how lovely you look--even when you don't feel beautiful--but annoyingly and obviously means it every single time. You can see it in his eyes and his body language. It took a while to accept that he truly loves you and finds you beautiful. Your mind fought against accepting that. You were convinced by his every hesitation that it meant he couldn't possibly love you, but that wasn't true. That's not what was going on.

Steve took a while to sift through his feelings and hangups, but the question was never whether he loved you or was attracted to you. He worried whether or not he could be the partner he wanted to be to the right person.

38

Technically...Steve???? This one's a little complicated.

You get truly angry only after something has been stewing for a long time. Consistent, tiny annoyances or frustrating behaviors eventually boil to the surface in infrequent rages.

Steve, on the other hand, is cool as a cucumber until the most random, damndest things just 🫰🏼set him off. He's a cheeky bastard when his feathers are rumpled the wrong way. It's odd and totally hilarious.

He spends so much time as Cap letting everything just roll off his back like a duck in water. He has to go with the flow. He can only control himself and what he does in the future. He gives orders, yes, but humans err; Steve understands that maybe nothing he plans will go correctly. He's prepared for that.

But...what Steve isn't prepared for is people putting a vinyl record in the wrong dust jacket with no indication as to where the correct one will be. What kind of imbecile-- He can't stand his to-go order being totally opposite what it's supposed to be because seriously he didn't even make any substitutions! And absolutely hysterically, he can't handle there not being a 'wet floor' sign when the very shiny floors happen to be very slippery.

For a big man, Steve falls hard.

He got some great height though... Spun nearly 200 degrees mid-air before flopping the landing and bouncing against the far wall. Spectacularly funny when you know he isn't hurt. It's not even a pride or ego ding for Steve; he's simply furious that someone not-him could have been the one to slip.

So yeah, technically Steve has the quicker temper, but his anger lasts less time than yours.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg

@georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza  @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain

[kaibutsushidousha]

Any piece of media you’ve changed your mind on significantly? Bonus points if the only thing that caused the change was passing of time and not other material.

I really rewatch, so I judge things mostly according to what my mindset was back when I experienced them. The closest I have to a proper answer here is how Katekyo Hitman Reborn and Fairy Tail were my least favorite manga around high school and years later I had a sudden "Oh, I understand this part now" realization about a few things a decade later.

Reborn's example is, unsurprisingly, about the final chapter. It made the extremely controversial decision of ending on Reborn musing about how Tsuna learned nothing and is still the same person he was in chapter 1, except with friends now. Everyone hated that because the overarching narrative provided plenty of evidence to the contrary and because if the statement was true, the manga would be calling itself a waste of the reader's time. That was a sentiment I shared immensely.

My random epiphany on this one was that the "Tsuna learned nothing" quote comes from the perspective of Reborn, the character who wanted to teach him to be a mob boss and a killer, so it's celebrating that Tsuna remained a good boy through and through. It's thematically consistent despite the poor communication. In hindsight, Reborn couldn't have ended any other way.

And Fairy Tail's case came from looking back at the series through the lens of its core theme of mourning. Zeref was the one character I always considered good despite the rest of the series, and his deal was ultimately that he got cursed because he failed to cope with his brother's death and the curse causes him to autokill everything around him until he learns to get over it. Throughout his long life, Zeref created many tools that were exploited by half of the villains that came before him, and looking in hindsight, all of those were tools meant to cheat and control death.

And these ideas delivered in one of the main villains are obviously reflected in the main characters as well. Gray kills and mourns his dad 3 times in addition to carrying the guilt of indirectly killing Ur because he had mourned his dad properly the first time. There's a timeskip that sorta only exists kill off Lucy's dad and make her deal with that. And most importantly to make FT feel thematically consistent, Natsu's initial goal to find his dragon dad is ultimately revealed to be a quest to finally accept he died.

Grief is a constant theme in the series, but its importance only becomes evident in the final arc. Which is not something I can complain about because the only reason I stuck with Fairy Tail until the end is because I liked Rave that much to trust it to have at least a great ending, and Rave is another manga whose main theme is prevalent but only gets super evident with the final arc. Maybe the great difference in enjoyment came down to simply reading Rave as a finished story and reading Fairy Tail as an ongoing story. Who knows?

Does that mean I like those two now? No. I never reread them, so my first experience is still what counts. But at least now I believe I have a more fair and good-faith perspective of their flaws. And maybe an interest in checking Eden's Zero after it finishes (I'm not checking if it already finished because I think this post is funnier if it already finished 3 years ago and I don't know about it).

[thewistlingbadger]

I'm actually heartbroken over what they did to Jinx, Sevik, Silco, etc. Jinx is one of my favorite characters of all time I felt a lot of comfort in her character because how she was written. I didn’t feel like I was crazy or alone because I felt her pain in the past. How the fuck did they fumble the bag so hard with those three? It’s like they hate them or something. What the hell did they doing with Vi? Do they just hate them and just adore Piltover?

Jinx is really important character to me. She's great representation of those with mental illnesses, familial trauma, to those with suicidal tendencies, to those who are suicide survivors, and even to those who just have struggled severely with their mental health. She showed me that people that fit those groups, people like me, could be heroes. They would be compelling characters with just as big a role in the story as the other, more "normal" characters.

To be honest, I'm not sure what happened in this season. The quality of writing in this season is something I've been struggling with since November 9th, because it doesn't make any sense to me. Season 1, in my opinion, had NO issues with the writing. Everything made sense at all times, everything was very clear, not only did each act have its own story, but those stories also made sense within the grander scheme. Furthermore, everything was connected and seamless. Season 2 in my opinion should have had absolutely ZERO problems with the story, because there were no problems with the story in season 1!

We obviously have very limited information. We have no idea if Netflix placed restrictions on them or if they faced any problems with the studio. We don't know if they felt pressure to do thanks to the fandom or due to marketability. What we do know is arcane had a very high budget, season 2 was written alongside season 1, and season 1 was positively received. Those three things by themselves are positives, they're not obstacles. Which is why it's so confusing to me.

I don't think the creatives hate zaun and love Piltover. I think for some of the characters they wrote themselves into a corner. For example Jinx. Jinx underwent a massive transformation last season, what are they supposed to do with that? How do they take that further? Jinx becoming a revolutionary figure could make sense. You could have people idolize her because she attacked Zaun, because she killed Silco, or because she's silco daughter. But not only did season 2 not commit to any of these, they didn't even commit to the idea of her being a symbol, despite the amount they teased it. Silco was a fantastic character in season 1, and just because he's dead in season two, doesn't mean he wasn't relevant. Jinx and Sevika obviously cared about him and he was the leader of zaun, no matter his reputation. I think they didn't know how to balance between moving on from him and remembering him properly. His absence should have been felt in zaun. There were some moments where I felt they accomplished this, and others they just dropped the ball. What makes this worse is that they don't explore any of the things he brought to the story. The idea of zaun independence? Not touched upon in season two. Jinx being his daughter? Dismissed due to Vander's revival. This is why it felt like he was being so disrespected. Sevika was a side character in season 1. This really was her moment to shine, but it's like they didn't know what to do, how to write her in and give her a bigger part, or they just couldn't choose what they wanted to do and who they wanted to give screentime to. We should have seen a MASSIVE transformation from Vi this season after the last one ended, and ultimately we didn't get that. Again, it felt like they were unsure of what to do. I mean, think about the amount of times she changes in this story. One moment she's an enforcer, the next she's getting shit faced in zaun and is pitfighting. Then she's in a commune with Vander, THEN she's fighting a war for piltover. There really was no consistency within all these changes, and these changes were all surface level.

[stellaluna33]

I got tagged by @belleandsaintsebastian to share part of a WIP, so... Here's part of a second chapter of Smells Like School Spirit, my "Lane and Jess goof off in gym class because the school actually communicated about his absences and now he has to show up every day" Season 3 AU. 😂 (It's on ff.net so maybe I should put it up on AO3?)

........

After Jess had unleashed that storm of vengeance upon Chuck Presby on her behalf, it seemed that Lane and Jess had something else in common besides a love of music and Rory Gilmore: going full-on rabid guard-dog when a friend was under threat.  If questioned, Lane would maintain that she mostly did it for Rory, but the facts of the matter remained that she had stormed into Principal Merton’s office in a blaze of righteous indignation at the idea that Jess Mariano would receive the full brunt of punishment for the “altercation” that had occurred in P.E. that day.  No, this was outrageous, this was unjust!  Did they know that she had likely sustained a concussion- a concussion!- from Chuck Presby and the school did nothing?!  But Jess comes to her defense and gets a suspension!

Principal Merton was unmoved.  He “regretted” (he looked far from regretful) to say that, “as uncharacteristically honorable as Mr. Mariano’s motives might have been, the school had a zero-tolerance policy on physical violence” and yada yada yada… but then Lane had played her trump card.  She simply wondered what Mrs. Kim would think about a policy that allowed boys to give girls concussions but punished anyone who tried to stop them… and suddenly the Principal was proposing that perhaps both boys could be given detention instead.  Lane guessed that would be fair, but also suggested that since there were a couple openings in the weightlifting class right now, perhaps that might be a good way to keep Jess out of mischief, and if she could be moved also, she could keep an eye on him… as well as be able to inform her Mama that the school was making sure her concussion was properly dealt with.  Sighing wearily, Principal Merton had promised to make the necessary arrangements on the following day.

And that was how Lane had secured herself and Jess two coveted spots in the Weightlifting gym exemption- open only to Stars Hollow High athletes and a waiting list of Seniors.  No more laps, no more dodgeball, and if you happened to be partnered with a fellow slacker who had no qualms about falsifying your progress reports, not much actual weightlifting either!  This was the life!

[our-aplatonic-experience]

how do i tell my two exisiting friends (or just the people i like talking to) that i'm aplatonic? im new to the apl community and i dont know how to explain to people about it when i know so little myself. i already havent talked to them in around 8weeks with zero warning (my bad i know thats shitty. but its not like we talk super often anyways) i just dont know how to properly describe and im scared theyll take it as me not wanting talk to them anymore and theyll move on and ill never get any oppurtunity to truly define our relationship with each other. both are queer but arent all that educated on aspec stuff. i really wanna say something but i dont know how

i have no idea, hoping the public can answer

[fanfictiongreenirises]

I, Y and Z 👀🫶

thx for the ask 😁🫶

I: How many fandoms have you written in?  Do you have a favorite?

i thiiink it adds up to 9 fandoms i've posted for? i can't really say i have a favourite but because i've written for dick grayson so much, writing stories with him after time away feels a lot like coming home

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories?  Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?

i think i tend to hate my more popular stories 😂 it's not even as much about the type of fic it is, but probably more because those are the ones that i'll get comments/collection requests on more frequently and i'll skim through it and writing or characterisation details will irk me 😂 but i gotta give a massive shoutout to the batfam server, because it really is thanks to the community i found there that i stopped caring entirely about hits/kudos/and even comments, and began writing for friends and for myself. now, if i can get an idea fully written in a way i feel it was in my head, i'm satisfied with it

Z: Is there a story you’ve written that doesn’t seem to get much love?

lmao the most recent fic i posted is in a fandom that has maybe two or three other writers and pretty much zero tumblr presence, featuring a ship that now has two fics because i wrote them both 🤣 but to be honest (and this kinda goes back to the previous question), it's been years since i properly cared about my fics getting love, bc i tend to write to get the story out of my head and somewhere i can read them. the only thing that less interaction w them tells me is that there may not be a very large community within the fandom that also like the same things that i do and therefore i gotta bake my own cakes

[the-pale-goddess]

Hi hildee!! Missing you here. I was feeling angsty and thought, What would be the reason for Ethan and Tiffany to divorce (cheating can't be the answer). I know it is not possible, but let's imagine a parallel universe where they did. What is the plausible reason behind it? And how will they navigate their lives since they work at the same place? Will they find someone else and move on, or at some point in the future, will they give their marriage a second chance?

Ahhh, loveliest Anon, I miss you too—horribly so! Can’t thank you enough for still thinking of me and E&T ❤️❤️❤️ 

It’s common knowledge that I live for angsty AUs, but I must admit that your ask inspired a disgustingly fluffy fic idea first ksdjksjdksj Your power, hello?! I couldn’t be more grateful because you helped me settle on a quite important canon HC I couldn’t figure out for the longest time! I wish I had more space to pursue this tooth-rotting fluff…Sadly, with my poor health and everything going on in my life, it seems impossible at the moment. 

Still, you’re waiting for angst galore, and I’m here to deliver…

I received a similar ask in the past, and I still stand by my answer—I can’t think of any circumstance that would break them up. Canonverse E&T go through a pretty solid character development; both of them worked on their personal issues and unresolved past traumas, finding inner wisdom and integrity so crucial in overcoming any obstacles that could endanger their relationship. 

However…You made me ruminate on the topic again. What if...They would somehow...Skip this long and difficult process? I can picture (1) particularly heart-wrenching scenario in which divorce would certainly happen 👀 As you can imagine, anything that had the power to dissolve their bond and force them to separate must be huge and tragic. 

I feel terrible even thinking about this entire AU…So buckle up! I’ll try to paint the scene and address your questions. Please, don’t hate me ksdjfkdsjfksj

TW: neonatal death

Tiffany was 38 when she got pregnant for the third time. Though it was a dangerous gamble, E&T put their trust into medicine and hoped for some luck. Unfortunately, the nightmare possibility became a horrifying reality: she developed preeclampsia. At first, the danger seemed contained; both the mom and the baby were closely monitored and taken care of. But her condition suddenly worsened, the severity of disease calling for a premature delivery.

While Tiffany was fighting for her life, Ethan had no choice but to make an impossible decision—a decision he reached with zero hesitation. He wouldn’t risk losing the love of his life for a 60% survival rate a baby born at 24 weeks would have. Despite receiving the best possible treatment in the NICU, the little one didn’t survive the night.  

While canonverse E&T would certainly navigate through such a traumatic event with unwavering mutual support and dedication to recovery, AU E&T would spiral into the darkness. Instead of making an effort to communicate properly and listen to each other, trying to understand those conflicting emotions raging inside them, they would focus on the misery, fuelled by those underlying personal issues they failed to address back when it was expected.

Gravely depressed, Tiffany was furious with Ethan’s decision. She thought he should have tried to save the baby no matter the cost. It was obvious that the loss she suffered clouded her judgment. If given the choice, she would have to agree with Ethan. She studied the case obsessively every day, went through all the possible outcomes, and the baby truly stood no chance. But she could be saved; she had to fight for her two other children—the ones that already had a life, the ones counting on her, trying to grasp what happened. That was perhaps the essence of her anguish: she had no choice, no say in this, no chance to meet her tiny daughter, to say goodbye. She couldn't fix it. Grief poisoned her mind in ways she could never predict.

Ethan was too fixated on his own sorrow and the absurdity of his wife’s resentment to actually see past her pain and empathize with her extremely fragile state. The fact that she was so willing to leave him and orphan their children for a slim chance of saving a fetus? He couldn’t understand her reasoning. He wouldn’t understand her reasoning. Yes, the loss affected him too, it affected all of them. But there was no other choice. She had to see that, right? 

The tragedy struck them in separate bolts, and they landed on different paths, too consumed by their own agony to meet half-way and reconcile. Inevitably, the connection between them began to dim and they grew apart. With no emotional support from Ethan, Tiffany became distant as she struggled to get better. Ethan fell back into the old patterns and put his emotional defense back up high. He started spending the majority of days at work, neglecting not only Tiffany, but also NJ and Letty.

Every attempt to patch things up led to cruel arguments and blame-shifting. Eventually, Tiffany recognized it all went too far and saw only one solution to their problems: she filed for divorce and full child custody. After a short yet intense custody battle, they reached an agreement that allowed Ethan to have the kids for the weekend. 

As soon as the divorce became final, Tiffany and the children moved to NYC (no surprise here, I guess kdjfksfjksfj). Ethan would visit them most of the times, but on occasion Tiffany would fly the kids to Boston and spend the weekend there, strolling through the city with old friends. 

NJ was 9, and Letty was 6 when the divorce happened, so I imagine it was unbearably tough for them to process, especially with all the mess happening prior. But they’re the kind of troublemakers that would 100% come up with a genius plan to Parent Trap E&T and bring them back together lol Would they be successful? Well…Only if both Tiffany and Ethan went to therapy and dealt with their inner problems first. Then, I presume, they would be able to have a heart-to-heart with each other and see if there are still some remnants of trust and compassion left in the ashes of their relationship. Despite all the bitterness and trauma, the love between E&T remains intact, so it all boils down to whether they would allow themselves to open up to the frightening idea of reconnection and the risk the second chance carries. 

Ooof…That was extremely painful to conjure up and felt even worse as I was writing it down ksdfjksjgksj Nevertheless! Thank you for the ask, dear, I'm sending you lots of love ❤️

[jolly-necromancer]

Lesson #2: Necromancy in the service of society

Now, that we know how to gather necessary resources in a socially acceptable manner, it is time to learn how to use our skills to aid our local communities.

First, I would like to acknowledge the obvious. Yes, we have our research and other projects that will be slowed down by devoting our time and resources to the practices described below. However, you will soon find that the favor of the common folk makes things run much smoother, usually making up for slower pace by preventing unnecessary interruptions and relocations. Not to mention, many of us lead a life of an adventurer. Those necromancers already know how to split their time and attention between study of the arcane and helping others. For them this lecture will be more of an opportunity to refine the skills they already possess.

With that issue properly addressed, let us begin.

First thing you can do to help out your neighbours is to rent them your thralls. For free or for very low fee. After all, it is supposed to be your service to the local community, not a business. Your undead will be most suitable for tasks that are simple, repetitive but physically taxing or dangerous. They will be also perfect for covering the night shifts. Let the mortals sleep and have the undead do the worst parts of their jobs.

You must remember, however, who to make this offer to. The answer is: to the commoners. To the peasants needing another pair of hands to harvest their crops but unable to afford another mouth to feed. This offer is not to directed to their feudal lords, lest they figure, they can exile the peasants from their farmlands and man them entirely with the undead. That would not be ethical and would defeat the purpose of this course. We aim to help those who need our help the most and to not disturb natural order of things too much. That is why you should, for example, be careful about offering artisans to have your thralls do simple chores, that would usually be a job for the new apprentices. Those chores are often important part of the learning process.

And if you really want to do something to appease the lords, you can always offer them some cannon fodder. If you live in area often under threat of bandit raids, that would be more than enough to make them look at you more favourably. And with them you do not have to be so shy about proper prices for your services. THEY can afford it.

On a side note, a few of you are capable of allowing the deceased to speak one last time. You can offer families a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones even in case of sudden death. This is something precious and will most certainly be appreciated. What is even more appreciated is a resurrection if you are prepared and in the right place and the right time to perform one.

As for finding the balance, here are some points to consider before you make any offer to anyone:

How many undead can you control at a time and how many do you need for your various projects to advance at satisfying pace or at least at any pace? If the difference between those two numbers is zero or less, you have to seriously reconsider your priorities and workload you think you can manage.

How much of your help can be provided at night? The more, the better. First, because it allows others to work during the day and sleep during the night. Second, because it allows you the same (assuming you are not nocturnal). Third, because it allows others to not spend too much time in presence of your thralls which is good for their psychological comfort.

Well done, everyone! Now you have an idea what kind of actions you can take to use your necromancy to help your neighbours. In our next lesson we will discuss how can we make presence of the undead less off-putting. If not morally then at least aesthetically.

Class dismissed.

[voicesunified]

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙕𝙀𝙉 𝙂𝘼𝙍𝘿𝙀𝙉 & 𝘼𝙈𝘼𝙉𝘿𝘼

   Elijah definitely created the Zen Garden and I’m going to state the two obvious reasons of why first: the Back Door and AMANDA. Elijah’s famous line of I always leave an emergency exit in my programs didn’t mean Connor specifically but The Garden which was obviously a program used to control Connor. This implies many things and I’ll get into that but I always want to talk about AMANDA. The womans likeness isn’t just a coincidence, it’s clearly meant to connect the garden to ELIJAH and I think at the same time lean toward CyberLife showing off how they were stripping everything from him and making it theirs.

  Amanda wasn’t just another human, someone that taught at the college Elijah happened to attend. He didn’t hang a picture of the two of them in his Villa for shits and giggles. She was someone deeply important to him, who had helped him create the idea of Androids and their position in the world. She nurtured him, guided him, taught him and was very much a mother like figure to Elijah. She was important enough that he hung a picture of himself and her in his Villa instead of one of his own family.

  Amanda represented a part of his life that he struggled through but overcame because she had been there with him. And he wanted to cement that by creating a program of her that would, in the end should it work, become the base communication and guide for Androids between CyberLife and them.  A safe place where they could transfer information or get assistance from CyberLife, even  guidance like he had from the woman. The program AMANDA was by no means supposed to be something to torment and cause pain, to control them.

  It was something he would have no doubt spent years on, perfecting and twisting to get Amanda correct and a replica of the woman he remembered, the only real way that he probably managed to cope after her death. Elijah wouldn’t have handled her loss well and given his unstable mental stability and his emotional problems he would have internalized that pain and turned it into a work effort that would consume him. It would eventually present itself in the form of the Zen Garden originally dubbed EDEN.

  Eden wouldn’t just be a garden, it would take the form of something that is believed to make the Android feel comfortable and it would never be the same for every Android. However, the roses would always be a prominent thing as they were Amanda’s favorite flower. The rose would be Eden’s symbol, it’s logo and take form somewhere in whatever Eden was taking the form of at the time. It would also help distinguish reality from the program for the Androids.

  The growing fear of Elijah knowing that CyberLife’s board was attempting to remove him from office would be the push to implement the back door. At the time, around 2026-2027, a few years before he would be removed, Elijah would find the first Android who showed emotion.

  The zero instead of a one.

  It wouldn’t be a full deviancy, just the beginning of the code, the wrong thing and he would take that Android’s malfunction and he would form the virus. From there the plan would turn, the backdoor would be created to ensure what they sent to fix his virus would win. On the final day before his departure he’d used Eden to pass the Virus along, a small bug hidden in the software, tucked inside that backdoor, and he would wait.

  Elijah had never anticipated them to turn the Zen Garden into what they did and he never thought AMANDA would become a means to harm Androids let alone Connor. The frustration he feels at something that was supposed to be used as a comfort mechanism, like his coping skills for his Anxiety, being twisted and malformed bothers him deeply. It hurts on a level that Elijah can’t properly explain because he feels in a way Amanda was defiled.

  A dead woman, who he valued, respected, trusted and loved. Her memory was that single program he created and it was disrespected and crushed because CyberLife wanted to prove a point to him.

  That he had nothing left.