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werenotadulting · 3 years

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Routine Procedure pt. 2 & 3

(Hello friends. Before we continue, a disclaimer. This story is intended for mature, 18+, kink-friendly audiences. This post contains sexual content.

This story may seem, uh, pretty fucked up. The product that caused Mike's incontinence is purely fictional, but the story can still seem plausible within the realm of reality. Which makes the actions of the characters....well, pretty fucked up. I don't want to spoil the story, but I will leave with this.

Aren't we all, in our own way, a little fucked up?

I'd woken up as we turned onto our street.

"Hey sweetie. We're almost home."

"Huh, wh-...where are we?" I blinked a couple times, my eyes adjusting to the light.

She took my hand in hers. "You're in the car, on the way home from the hospital. There's something I need to-"

Suddenly I was wide awake.

"Oh man, I had the weirdest dream. I was in recovery and all the sudden the doctor is going on about how something went wrong, which is crazy, right? Like it was the easiest of surgeries, so it's not like something could ever go wrong."

Kate just stared straight ahead as she pulled into our driveway.

"Let's talk inside."

────────

"You have to remember to check it every couple of hours, Mike. I can do it for you if want me to."

I glared at her.

"Jesus Kate, don't you think I know that? It's bad enough I have to wear this stupid thing, but you don't have to keep reminding me like I'm some kind of child!"

Was I overreacting? Maybe. Did I have every right to be upset about what I'd woken up to in the hospital? Absolutely. Did Kate deserve me taking my anger out on her?

No. She didn't.

I took a deep breath, counting to ten in my head.

"Okay, listen. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you, I just...I feel like my life just got turned upside down. You're only trying to help and....I'm sorry," I finished lamely.

Kate, noticing my shirt had become tucked into the back of my pull-up, pulled it out.

"I understand, Mike," Kate said, looking at me with sympathy. "You didn't ask for this, plus that whole thing with the clause in the paperwork. There's not much we can do but move on and learn to cope." She stood up, smiling at me. "But on the brightside, no medical bills, plus they're offering to cover the cost of whatever supplies you need. I'm going to be here every step of the way, helping you out however you need it."

Despite her positive outlook, I wasn't swayed. "Oh, sure, great." I laid the sarcasm on thick. "I get to spend the rest of my life peeing myself. The brightside is oh so blinding."

"It was a really long day, babe," Kate said, hushing my attitude and moving behind me as she started to rub my shoulders. "What do you say you take a couple of those sleeping pills, zonk out for the night, and see what kind of fresh perspective tomorrow brings, huh?"

Sleep did sound like the only brief respite I was going to get from this hell.

"If you'd like, I can check you during the night to see if it need changed. That way you can just sleep and not have to worry."

"Umm no, it's fine. I just put it on, so it should last me overnight. You'd probably only wake me up anyway. Thank you though," I said, giving her a small smile. "I'm glad at least one of us is handling this well."

────────

It wasn't until around midnight that Mike finally got comfortable enough to sleep. As Kate looked in on him, she could see that he was still a little restless, tossing and turning as if having a bad dream.

For a brief second she had second thoughts, but quickly shoved them aside. No, she wanted this. Mike needed this. She had waited so long. It was for the best. She looked down on him lovingly.

"Sleep well, my sweet boy. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be just as interesting as today was."

Even when he took sleeping pills, Mike was notoriously a restless sleeper. And she may or may not have poked a couple holes in the pull-up. Mike didn't bother to check, and why should he?

After all, accidents happen.

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

Part 3

Cold.

The first thing that hit me was how cold I was.

That didn't make any sense. I'm in bed, I shouldn't be cold. I grabbed the covers to push them back and immediately realized why I was cold.

The bed, the sheets, the comforter, all of them, were wet.

"Shit."

I saw then why the bed had gotten wet. No. Soaked.

Tossing and turning in my sleep, the pull-up, I presume, had not stayed in place. Meaning the bed had gotten soaked. Meaning I had gotten soaked. Hence...

"Shit."

Kate walked out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel with a second around her body.

"Hey babe. I had to get up to get cleaned off, because I was covered in...well, yeah. Are you okay?"

I got up and began balling up the sheets and bedspread. "Oh I'm just peachy. I pissed all over myself like a baby last night, so that was fun. I also will continue to piss all over myself no matter what I do, and I'll be stuck doing laundry every day for the rest of my life!"

I threw the bedding on the floor in disgust. Kate took my arm, tenderly, and stopped my tantrum.

"Hey, listen. Strip down, and go take a shower. Take that stupid thing off, get out the loofah, and scrub. I don't want you coming out until you're good and relaxed, you hear me? I'll wash the sheets." As she was saying this, Kate was already moving to take the mattress protector off of the bed.

"No, Kate, stop. You don't have to-"

"Get. In. The. Shower."

"But..."

"NOW!" I can only describe the look she was giving me as domineering. I'd never seen her like this. "Don't make me ask again."

Sheepishly, I began to disrobe.

Kate's voice returned to its normal, caring tone. "Once you're all washed up, meet me in the living room, please. I want to talk to you about something."

────────

Kate was sitting on the couch when I walked out. She pat the cushion next to her, indicating she wanted me to sit down.

"Mike, sweetie. I want you to listen to me without interrupting, okay? And please remember that all I'm saying comes from a place of love and wanting you to be happy," Kate said, her big hazel eyes looking at me imploringly.

"Umm...okay, sure yeah. What's up?" I sat down next to her.

"First, I wanted to reiterate that I understand how frustrated you must be right now. But I don't want to be the target of your outbursts. It's not fair." She paused, looking at me, and I just nodded that I understood.

"Second, I think we both can see that the whole pull-up thing isn't working. I don't want another surprise like last night." Here she stopped again, turning to grab something from behind the couch. She pulled a plastic package out and set it on her lap.

"The hospital gave us these to try if the... if we wanted to try something different," she said, pulling a white rectangle out of the package. It made a rustling sound as she grabbed it.

"Is that a....I am not wearing a diaper!"

"Mike, please, stop. Just listen. You said you wouldn't interrupt." She moved the package back to the floor, keeping the diaper on her lap.

"I'm just asking you to try, for both my sake and yours. Please?"

She didn't continue, so I took that as my cue that I could speak, but I didn't know what to say. I sat in silence, thinking, for what felt like hours.

She had a point. I had slept terribly, which was likely to make me even more irritable. But on the other hand, could I really stand to go through the embarrassment of wearing a diaper? Although I suppose it is preferable to having wet pants. I couldn't imagine the humiliation I would feel if I were to leak all over myself in public.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"I've....I've never had to put on or change a diaper before..." I said finally, hanging my head.

Kate perked up, that smile I loved hinting on her lips.

"I can help with that, babe. Just at first, until you get the hang of it. And if they don't work, we will move on to the next thing, okay?"

"Are you sure d-diapers are the best option?" I had to struggle to get the word out. "How do you know they will help?" I said, unable to take my eyes off of the plastic object on her lap.

"For one, pull-ups are pretty much already diapers. We'd just be changing them even more often."

She picked up the diaper and stood up, pulling me by the hand.

"Second, judging by the fact that I'm going to have to clean that couch cushion, I'd say we need to at least try something."

────────

"Lift up so I can slide this under you."

I obliged, holding my butt up in the air as I lay on the freshly cleaned sheets. I tried to look anywhere but at Kate.

Kate unfolded the diaper, fluffing it slightly. She positioned the diaper under me and I lowered down onto it.

"You know, this doesn't have to be all bad," she said, as she picked up a bottle of baby powder. Why did we even have baby powder? Where did that come from?

"Oh, really? Explain to me what about having my girlfriend change me into a diaper isn't all bad." I continued to stare pointedly at the ceiling.

"For starters," she said, dusting powder on my groin, "there's this." Suddenly, she reached down and began slowly stroking my cock.

"Whuuuuu-oah boy. Um just w-what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm rubbing in the powder, clearly," she said, and I finally looked to see that devilish grin back on her face. "You don't seem to be protesting that...hard," she giggled. "I figured since I'm down here, I might as well make myself useful." Without further preamble, she lowered her mouth and took me inside of it.

"That's..uhhh....o-okay...." I trailed off, lost in a mix of confusion and pleasure. It wasn't long before I was finished, and Kate was sitting back up. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and swallowed.

"Wow, you must have enjoyed that, I don't think you've ever cum so quicky."

I was too stunned to speak. My gaze had returned to the ceiling, but I wasn't focused on anything.

Kate started to move again, and I heard that crinkling sound. She pulled the diaper up and taped it snugly in place, securing me into the first of what would soon become my all-too-familiar thick and crinkly underwear.

"So tell me, Mike," she said, patting the front of the diaper as she looked over her handiwork, "was that all bad?"

#werenotadulting

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arrxwed · 7 years

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open for @fingergxns

The callous scream of each shot ripped through the air like dagger on paper, bullets permanently destroying any peace of mind that the Shimada once had. Every action seemed to be more instinctual than the last -

keep your movements jagged. take cover beneath concrete structures. do not look behind you. stay alive.

run.

With the impossible dexterity of a mountain goat, Hanzo found himself climbing up the glossiest of surfaces with ease, the marble under his rough fingertips acting as nothing more than an inconvenience. The next shell came dangerously close to contact, neatly grazing his grayed sideburn and flying onward into a store front. As the glass scattered below his feet, Hanzo clamped his eyes shut and inhaled sharply, unsure of how badly grated the ground beneath him had become.

Seamlessly, Hanzo found himself within another world - dark, empty, and surprisingly soft. He didn’t feel the cold power of his gasp for air; like emerging from a rip tide, all he cared about at all levels of consciousness was the dire need for air.

Eyes adjusting to the dark, the archer calmed himself quickly.He was back at the base, laying in one of the white cots that decorated each and every infirmary room in the medical wing.

There had been a sniper.

Shakily, he raised a hand to his forehead, and felt the pillowed texture of gauze. He did not know if he were badly injured, or where. But a quick wiggle of each ligament assured him that his body was mostly intact.

Hanzo groaned, unsure if anybody was around to hear him. A light suddenly clicked on behind the door of his room, and like a switch he closed his eyes and gently exhaled. He was not quite sure if company was really what he needed.

#Honor and Redemption #bokudou #fingergxns #((hello! Saw you liked my return post and wanted to give you a starter ))

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sourbat · 3 years

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hmm maybe magmel and first time making the other laugh?

hello. this is over 4k words, because of course it is

Rating: T for swearing and suggestive conversations

Read it on Ao3, or keep reading below

A general meeting occurred exactly at twelve. The subject: team building.

Melmord couldn’t tell if the presentation was a punishment aimed at him, Magnus, both, or something Offdensen deemed necessary for the betterment of the company. Admittedly, their first few days partnered together could have worked better. Melmord ended up writing a few complaints regarding the threats of violence during the first two days, a meeting with human resources after a suggestive comment about deserving a busted lip on the fourth, and practically begging Offdensen to “have a word” with Magnus regarding his short temper close to the end of their first week as workmates. He assumed Charles wouldn’t bother, and either tell Melmord to make it work, or accept that Magnus was, to some extent, equal parts partner and penitence.

But was the powerpoint necessary?

“Here’s, ah, a slide I think many of us here can relate to,” Charles’ voice broke through the stuffy air and uncomfortable silence hanging in the meeting room. “Behavioral Management in the Workplace.”

Across from Melmord, and sitting close to where Charles stood, was Magnus. Arms crossed and legs kicked up on the table’s edge, he was high on alert, defensive and incredibly unapproachable. There sat the first musician Melmord was charged with since meeting Dethklok. The first real talent Melmord was assigned, and when Melmord tried greeting him the first time, had a ball of phlegm hacked and unloaded right between his feet. The first prisoner Melmord had the pleasure of meeting, speaking with, and discovering a shared hatred of Offdensen, though to what extent Magnus refused to share. There were a lot of things Magnus Hammersmith declined to provide Melmord, including the reason behind his imprisonment, his prior relationship with Charles, and why the hell he was “worthy” enough to come back. The file Offdensen handed him hours before his assignment only contained the basic information, the kind of trivia any committed Dethklok fan would already know. The whole “stabbing Nathan Explosion” thing was new and certainly worth discussing drinks over one night, but aside from that? He inquired to know more about Magnus, of course, but according to Offdensen, had to “earn it” on his own time.

Melmord shrugged at the backdrop of words playing around him, setting his interest on the exposed, pink scar resting dead center between an older, paler set of scars already adorning Hammersmith’s chest. Technically speaking, Melmord didn’t know what killed Magnus Hammersmith. The pink, healed scar suggested something involving the chest: a heart attack perhaps? Heart failure? But if that was the case, what made Dethklok’s infamous rhythm guitarist worth the trip to hell and back?

“Fjordslorn?”

Melmord returned to the darkened meeting room, to Offdensen’s reflective glare cutting at his throat. Next to him, Magnus remained positively disengaged. At the center of the table was a hat filled with shreds of paper.

Melmord raised a brow at the two. “Come again?”

Melmord watched Charles bring his eyes to a close, then raise his hand and signal a klokateer to hit the lights. With a restrained sigh, he asked, “Can you manage several unsupervised minutes conversing with your client without upsetting him?”

Carefully, Melmord made a quick glance to the projector, images blurred from the additional light now blaring in the room. The title of the slide read something along the lines of exercises, and beneath it a list of team activities. He saw an image of a small, happy-go-lucky group of hoods huddled together, pulling cards from a bowl.

A team building activity? Really?

Melmord returned to Charles. “Sure, as long as you’re back before we perform the trust falls.”

Offdensen’s eyes narrowed, frown thinning to an almost white line glowing with disapproval. It’s a slap on the wrist compared to what he was used to from Charles. With a sigh, he shut off the power point, then turned to Magnus.

“Magnus.” He placed a hand on Magnus’ shoulder, steady against the jolt that arose at the contact. It was like Magnus had been struck by lightning. He looked ready to leave his seat. Tear at his jacket and toss it to the floor. Melmord almost flinched in reaction, watching silently as Magnus’ eye lit up, not with fear, but pure indignation.

He turned, disgusted, entirely repulsed by the hand that remained, but with a swallow, made it all disappear. An exhale, and his shoulders sank. His wild hair deflated. He withdrew. “Charles,” Magnus returned, voice not carrying a shred of what Melmord was sure he’d seen just seconds before. It still wasn’t fear, but it was something. Another fine reminder that they shared a common enemy.

Charles slipped off Magnus, then headed to the door. Behind him, two klokateers followed.

“Gentlemen,” Charles announced, then opened the double door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. If there’s any problem, these two will, ah, act as mediators, understand?”

He shut the doors behind him. The gears immediately stood in front of it, blocking Magnus and Melmord’s only exit.

Melmord waited until he heard the footsteps disappear, then started to relax. Finally, the devil was gone. The lackeys were still hanging around, but there was a change in the air. Even Magnus, who’d been so rigid, finally let go of his arms in favor of having them drop and rest on his knees as he sat.

Glancing at the door, Melmord chuckled, “Can’t stand the man, but I got to give it to him: he makes a mean presentation.”

Magnus’ bad eye twitched. He sank into his chair, the heel of his boots now barely hanging from the table's edge.

“Damn, not even a snicker?” Melmord asked, shrugging at the less than stellar response.

“I’ll laugh when you finally say something warranting it.”

Was there ever a day in which Magnus didn’t have a stick lodged deep in his ass? Well, so much for the presentation doing its job, not that Melmord could give it any credence to begin with. Hopefully Offdensen wouldn’t test them on the subject later. Melmord could handle a difficult client, but failing a test?

“Well, I appreciate the honesty,” Melmord said, coming to a rise.

He left his chair, kicking back his seat with the sole of his shoe. He glanced at the hat filled with colored pieces of folded post-it notes and rolled his eyes. Did Charles really assign someone the task of writing conversation starters and then folding them into some worn hat? For what purpose, other than to waste their precious time? Melmord could go on, but left the thought to hang at the edge of that foreboding cliff. After death, time was literally the only thing Melmord had, which meant Charles wouldn’t return until whatever sick lesson he wanted to teach had finally resonated. That, or in increments of five minutes, like the slide suggested.

With a sigh, Melmord reached for a folded sheet of paper. “How about–”

“You do realize this is a waste?” Magnus loudly interrupted. “Charles has us together for the sole purpose of watching us bicker.”

“And you’re fine with proving his point?”

Magnus sneered at him. “Excuse me?”

The paper crumbled in Melmord’s hand. “Contrary to what he’s told you, I’m not a complete fool.”

Magnus remained unimpressed by the declaration, and merely shrugged in response. A nasty jab at the pride, but Melmord knew that was the point. This wasn’t supposed to be easy. Some clients will be difficult.

“Offdensen wants us miserable,” Melmord continued, reopening his palm to find the crumbled shred of paper. “Guy’s been busy. Too busy to fuck with us as much as he’d like.”

That had to be it. Why else would Offdensen award him with the challenge and opportunity to train and work alongside a musician? Magnus was well known in the music industry as someone difficult to work with, to the point that once his name was on a project to help boost sales he was cut and kicked from further creative output. But was that punishment enough for someone as bored and desperate as Melmord? It wasn’t like Offdensen was offering him freedom or the chance to promote from his position to an official member of the dethstaff for kissing up to Hammersmith. Just the order to work with him and do everything in his power to get some new, original creative content from Hammersmith. That was all, and Melmord hungrily took the job knowing the rumors shadowing the man. He’d been that eager to take on the project. They both had, so whatever hesitations and challenges they posed were merely products of their own undoing. This presentation, cringe inducing as it was, held no contest. This was a test posed by Charles, and right now they were playing into his hands.

“He’s relying on us to do the job for him.” Melmord snickered as Magnus’ attention suddenly came alive. “You said it yourself, right? So, you going to prove to him we can’t get along, or can we get this cheesy team building crap done and over with?”

He held his ground, patiently awaiting Magnus’ response. There was a long, drawn out silence that followed. Still, Melmord waited. He knew he couldn’t delve into the nitty gritty with Hammersmith. The man wasn’t prone to easy persuasion. But Melmord hung to that hunch that they were both desperate to chat with anyone aside from their malevolent overlord, and leaned against the table until Magnus finally snorted a hot burst of air through his nostrils.

“Fine,” Magnus replied stiffly. “I’ll placate you and Charles if it means making it back to my room sooner rather than later.”

“A fine goal,” Melmord responded, keeping his tone as neutral to avoid offending the older man. He had Magnus working with him for now, and that was a start. If he could get through a few questions and make it out without upsetting Magnus any further, then maybe Charles would put an end to this silly game. Hell, maybe Charles would congratulate him on a job well done.

He snorted at the thought as he unfolded the paper. The post-it read:

Are you making the most of your second chance at lie? Why, or why not?

Melmord stared blankly at the wrinkled sheet. He read it over one more time, his jaw clenching and teeth grinding as it played out in his head. Was that correct? Lie, or did the klokateer charged with writing out the questions make a mistake? Were they capable of such? Did Charles write this? Was this part of the game? Was this for him?

“Well?” Magnus asked, still disinterested. He rubbed his sole into the table’s edge. “What does it say?”

Melmord put on a smile. “Your… favorite mixed drink?”

Magnus tugged the base of his beard, eyes cast upwards as he thought a moment. “Whiskey sour. No egg white. Fresh cherry.”

Short, quick and to the point. But it was a response, and it was something Melmord could most definitely use in the future. It had always been a habit of his to take his new clients out for a drink, and to continue inviting those who were easily swayed into making poor decisions under the influence. Though he doubted he could take Magnus out any time soon, he could at least make a note of his preferred poison and give him a good time soon, should Magnus allow it. A hard liquor man, too. Non-conventional, either. Not afraid to go against a recipe for his own comfort, not that Melmord needed the drink to figure that one out.

“Nice, a whiskey man,” Melmord replied coolly, then selected the most nonthreatening drink he could still compare with Magnus’ choice. Equally unconventional, but recognizable. Nothing too fancy. “I’m a tad less refined. Cuba Libre, heavy on the white rum.”

“Defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

“I like to have a good time,” Melmord replied. He rolled the sheet into a tight little ball, then tossed it over his shoulder. “To add on, I like it with two lime wedges and sativa. Huh, guess we have something in common.”

“Which is?”

“We both like our vitamin C.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “You’re not funny.”

The statement arrived less harsh than the previous comments. Another good sign. Melmord shrugged. “I got plenty more where that came from.”

Magnus shook his head at the thought, then turned inward to the hat filled with conversation starters. “Guess it’s my turn,” he said, dropping his long legs from the table. They landed hard with a thud that rattled Melmord.

He froze as Magnus reached for a shred of paper. “Oh, you–”

Magnus picked up a sheet from the messy pile. Anxious, Melmord pressed more of his weight against the table, dug his nails into the fine wood. His eyes locked on fingers unfolding a small pink slip of paper. Magnus raised the sheet up and quietly read the line. Silence returned, and Melmord swallowed thickly at the sight of Magnus’ pupils shrinking to a dot at whatever was scribbled on the sheet. Melmord had no idea what sort of questions had been laid out for them, and whether the previous one he read was written with him in mind. If any were written with him in mind. God, if only he knew what sins Magnus committed beforehand, what foolish dance he engaged with Charles to be trapped in this predicament.

A clock ticked. Melmord shrank into his chair. “Well?

Magnus finally lowered the slip. “How many years have you been working in the music industry?”

Relief.

Melmord fell into his seat, lighter and mind temporarily cleared of doubt. With a hand, he fixed his hair behind his ear. “Seven together,” he answered smoothly, replying to Magnus’ recovering stare with a honey sweet smile.

An interview question? Well, a tad conventional, but he appreciated Magnus’ effort for trying to hide the truth and keep with the peace. And an interview question, while lackluster, was something Melmord could manage without effort.

“I’ll be real, music’s been an on and off relationship for me,” he explained with a strong command of his words. “I take my business where it’s booming, and music? That girl’s volatile. I’ve had my hits, but I’ve also experienced my losses, and although my manner of style suggests I like a good time, I prefer my career like my relationships: easy and stable. You dig?”

There was a little bit of everything there. Plenty of options for Magnus to pick and comb through, select and build off from. Vague enough for anyone listening to not make any sense of, and be forced to interpret on Offdensen’s order at a later point.

And to his surprise, Magnus smiled at the question. “Indeed,” he replied, bringing his arms back up. But when he crossed them, Magnus didn’t keep his appendages close to his chest, but instead let them rest upon his stomach. “Well, by this point… I’ve been living it for about half my life? Let’s see, I didn’t get discovered until I was about twenty-three…”

Melmord lifted from the scarred chest, to the thick array of dark brown and graying curled laced throughout his many waves. Melmord quickly performed the math, and like clock, devised a compliment. “You’re lookin’ pretty damn for someone…” he stopped once he saw Magnus start to regrow his frown. “I’ll be quiet.”

Magnus’ fingers tightly wrapped around his thin, frail waist. Melmord tried not to notice, but quietly cursed himself for his impatience. Why did he go and inject humor the second things were just starting to let up?

Magnus huffed, clearly offended by Melmord’s attempt. “…to make a long story short, I’ve been on and off projects. Much like yourself, I chase after success. If something stops sounding like a good idea, I cut my ties and move on.”

Short, vague and to the point. Great.

Still smiling, Melmord clasped his hands together and hoped there was more to come. He had Magnus relaxing a second ago, surely he hadn’t fucked up so monumentally that he was back to square one. That couldn’t possibly be all, could it?

Melmord playfully shook his head at the silence. “That can’t be all though? Given your history–”

“What about my history?” Magnus inquired stiffly. With his thumb and forefinger, he raveled the pink post-it sheet into a compressed ball, then brought it down on the table, crushing it with his fist. The smack echoed in the small, stuffy room, and old rumors about Hammersmith’s unpredictable behavior arose to smother any remaining familiarity that sparked between them.

“Nothing.” Melmord pointed to the hat situated on the table. “My turn.”

Magnus’ heated stare never left his hand. Melmord scooped folded sheets of green, blue and yellow post-its, letting several fall from between his spreading fingers until only one remained resting on top of his open palm. Hesitantly, Melmord picked it up. He unfolded the sheet and carefully read the sentence to himself:

How did you die?

Melmord’s throat dried at the final word. Somewhere, he heard his screams getting lost in the winds, the distant howl and pleas of his animal spirit calling to the heavens for another shot, a second chance at life.

“What does it say?”

Magnus’ voice disappeared under the growing nausea, the darkness numbing Melmord’s senses and drowning out his thoughts, his ability to push words out from his constricting throat. This question. Was this question just for him?

“Well, Fjordslorn?”

Melmord lowered the yellow sheet. “Uhm, what’s your favorite…”

Wind spiraling. Falling. Magnus watching from afar, growing smaller, fading.

“My favorite what?”

“…Brittney Spears song?”

“What?”

“You know?” Melmord blinked, surprised by how soft he’d gone. He cracked a nervous, strained grin. He fought the deafening rumble of an incoming train threatening to crush and end him, and scrambled for a chorus line, a melody or title that he resonated with. Anything, but what was daring to crush him a second time. “The artist?” he added with forced gusto. “I, uh, really have a thing for “Femme Fatale”. Yeah, that one. Some real bangers in that CD, let me tell you.”

Magnus was incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“I know,” Melmord said, rolling the paper between his sweaty palm and the table underneath it, “It’s recent, and there aren’t many big hits in that one, but here me out: I’m pretty sure “How I Roll” was written specifically for my Friday night benders. Like, it’s a “party and get fucked” song, but it’s confident and in control. Just the right amount of chaos before crashing into bed with a stranger. My kind of anthem if you ask me.”

Melmord heard the words coming out from him, and wanted to scream. Of all the impromptu questions for him to come up with, this was arguably one of his more cringe-worthy ones. Pop subjects were best regulated to other pop artists, preferably the budding kind lacking any sense of identity. To bring up another artist in front of someone already so seasoned, and of an entirely different genre. And fucking Brittney Spears, too. If Melmord wanted to come off non-threatening, that artist and song certainly did the trick. Magnus was busy staring at him, mouth agape and being supported with the help of a hand. Eyes glazed in a layer of perplexing aura, a haze from which the hard rocker was trying to discern from a joke. This had to be a joke, right? But it wasn’t and Melmord, panicked, went on about the song’s upbeat rhythm, the positive notes surrounding female sexuality, and how up until recently, resonated with the whole “nine lives” bit.

“Like, doesn’t even have to be for Friday night’s either,” Melmord went on, to the point where the men guarding the door were now invested in his argument. “There’s a lot of workout potential in that release. It’s a fun song. She’s having fun and living her life.”

“Melmord,” Magnus interrupted as Melmord mentally scrambled for something palpable. Lost in the moment, and caught red-handed by Magnus, he stuttered himself into muteness. He was a man proudly poised in his seat, but behind the visage, he was shaking, sick and at a complete loss for words. Across, Magnus leaned close. He pointed at the flattened, yellow thing resting on the table. “What did the paper actually have written down?”

Without moving, Melmord brought his eyes to the stained paper. Did he have it in him to confess what he had read to himself, and why it affected him so? Could he effectively call Magnus’ bluff and return the very same question towards him without risking a black eye or tossed chairs? He wanted to stay on Magnus’ good side. Magnus looked concerned. That was a good sign, right? Did it matter? Did being honest matter if it meant facing the deadlights charging at him at over 100mph?

Melmord carefully resituated himself into place, brushing his coat down and fixing any slight wrinkles starting to form. He reclined into his seat, resting his hands behind his head. “We’re doing trust exercises, and I just poured out my heart and soul to you,” Melmord stated as best he could without faltering. “Now you’re telling me you don’t trust me? I’m hurt, Hammersmith.”

It was so quiet Melmord was sure he could hear the maggots in the walls squirming from the line he uttered. A chair groaned. A klokateer coughed.

Magnus was beside himself. He stared at Melmord, dumbfounded that he’d have the gall to use humor to deflect, and after so many warnings about how unamusing he’d already proven himself. His jaw sank, as did his hands. And then he snickered. He shut his lips and fell into a low, short chuckle that was further muffled by him slowly covering his mouth.

“Alright, Fjordslorn,” Magnus replied. He fell into his seat, hair flowing over it as he drew a fine smile for Melmord. “I’ll let you have that.”

If it were possible, Melmord would have slipped in his chair. He slipped a sigh through his barely parted lips, letting the fear that collected spill out while Magnus regained better control of himself. When he was feeling a little better, he asked, “How about a song title, while we’re at it?”

Magnus snorted. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Alright,” Melmord conceded. “I'll take the laugh, though. Save it for a rainy day, if you don’t mind?”

And just like that, the topic was dropped. Easier than Melmord could have hoped, and over a terrible joke, a sad attempt to deflect from the conversation. It wasn’t very funny, but Hammersmith laughed, and Melmord hardly had a chance to process the significance behind the act when Charles returned a few minutes later. It was hard to say whether he was pleased or upset at the peaceful scene he had entered. Magnus smiling, and Melmord so relieved. Charles merely looked over the table, the few tossed pieces of conversation starters, and gave a short nod.

Two new klokateers followed after him, one wheeling a cart carrying something that was covered in a sheet. The second klokateer picked up the hat. Both Melmord and Magnus watched from their seats. Neither had bothered removing any more shreds of folded post-its from the hat. While they never commented on it beyond what was already hinted by Magnus, both harbored their own suspicions regarding the remaining questions posed. While it was pointless to make accusations, both agreed to keep their mouths shut about it and agree that Charles carried some ulterior motive. Whether that motive was to unsettle or unify would remain unspoken, as neither were willing to take a risk and openly discuss Charles when his men were within earshot.

“Offdensen,” Melmord greeted dryly.

“Charles,” Magnus murmured, eyes avoiding said man as he took to the front of the table.

“Gentlemen,” Charles greeted with his usual, contained tone. “Glad to see the two of you chatting. Are we, ah, ready to begin the next set of exercises?”

“Yes, but only if you let me catch you first,” Melmord sarcastically jested and, to his delight, heard another snicker from Magnus.

“Now is not the time for jokes,” Charles stated firmly, earning the shuddered grimace of several cornered gears. Such a reaction would normally crumble Melmord’s resolve and make him regret his decision, but in angering Charles, Melmord only humored Magnus more, and as Charles’ eyes narrowed in annoyance, Magnus broke into a fit of airy laughter, enjoying every second of his flushed face, many lines and trembling bottom lip. How could Melmord possibly regret speaking when Magnus’ antagonistic laughter carried the schedule off course, and jabbed at the once unmovable figure that haunted their every waking moment.

Best of all: this time, it sounded real.

#magnus hammersmith #melmord fjordslorn #magmelm #gluku-pikron #thank you

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soulrph · 3 years

Note

hello! i’ve been reading the amazing advice you’ve been giving your followers and am hoping you can give me some as well. recently i’ve been trying to get back into rping female muses again (i’ve spent a good 5+ years adapting to male muses because the rpc preferred them and i could still have fun rping them) but i’ve really wanted to get back to female muses, the only problem is i can’t seem to bring myself to write as them because i’ve spent so long rping as males, i don’t have the same confidence for female muses and i know it shouldn’t matter but it’s like i physically can’t bring myself to write them. i hope that made sense and wish you an amazing day!

hiya my love! excuse me for the early reply, i'm at work and i'm early for once, so here i am with some advice!

for starters, even though you were able to write the male muses, i want to express how sorry i am that one of your reasons for writing those male muses was for the personal preference of the rpc. it's not an uncommon story, but it's coming to my attention that it's one that shouldn't have any foundation in truth to be believed in the first place. i'm so sorry, and kudos to you for returning to writing muses you'd like to write!

secondly: it's very difficult to assign this kind of thing to advice based on gender, so i'll give some advice that i've found useful when i'm trying to write about my own character's extended family!

pintere.st boards = literally my favorite way, but i'm a bit of a visual learner! i love these because you can group up the individual boards as you like. what does their house look like? what's their fashion style? what do they like to eat? do they have hobbies? pets? anything on the dash that inspires your muse, gets pinned!

spo.tify = i know loads of friends who love to listen to a song or playlist to bring out the muse! sometimes it's the lyrics. for me, it's always a specific kind of vibe in the melody? it can be about the muse, or a song that the muse listens to. i even made a playlist for the diner where my muse lives and works!

movies/tv shows = again, not necessarily ones that involve the muse themselves! i like to watch hell's kitchen. between gordon's screaming himself hoarse and all the delicious food, it yeets my muse into overdrive! i also like to watch anything with her fc in it. hearing the voice can help TREMENDOUSLY!

yo.utube fan videos = more for canon muses, but people making tribute videos for various canon characters are fantastic! also, i love to watch a channel called cinemawins, or everything great about _____! it's very uplifting, the guy gets so excited, and something about him praising all these movies is just so inspiring to me!

social media posts = specifically tumblr, twitter and insta, but people lavishing attention on the specific details of a particular character is always a huge help! i saw a tumblr thread based on a gifset of someone kissing someone else's hands and now my muse has an entire love language.

in short, though, it does take time. you have to be patient with yourself. allow the muse to prepare itself. you might get a coffee tomorrow and go "hey, my muse would absolutely destroy an entire army of trained mercenaries for a latte". nonnie, i was about to delete my entire blog and then my dog walked into my car door and i realized that, not only did my character have a dog, she also couldn't drive to save her life. also she had foster kids. i've been vibing off that for months now!! let inspiration strike and feed the muse as you go about your day. don't apply pressure. it's not a wound! it's just rp. you got this and i love you and i hope you have a great day!

#ooc.#rp advice.#cinnanon roll.#mobile.

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judediangelo75 · 3 years

Text

My Bride (Part 1)

Hello everyone~

So... this is going to be very different than anything I’ve written before. For starters this connects to nothing that I’ve previously written.

Two, it doesn’t really take place at Hogwarts per say. I’m including a lot of the characters from the game but that’s the closest I can say it relates to the game.

Three, it’s gonna be in parts because I’m too lazy to write a long post.

I got the idea from @makichaotic where in her headcanon there was a rumor that Talbott was a vampire.

Except Talbott is actually a vampire.

I have no clue what I’m possibly doing to be completely honest. This idea has been floating around in my mind for awhile so I have to get it out somehow.

Let me know what you think!

I also threw in David ( @that-scouse-wizard / @jd-the-anime-fan ) and Vixen ( @cleverglitteryfoxtrot ), two MC friends 😊🥰

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

“Baby girl?”

Judith turned away from the full body mirror in the direction of her father’s voice. An elegant strapless and backless white silk dress hugged her short, curvy figure. Her long locs were pulled up into a high ponytail, a few hanging around her face. A dark shadow dusted over her eyelids while dark red lipstick covered her full lips.

“Yes, Papa?” came the soft reply. The older man frowned.

His daughter was beautiful.

Gorgeous even.

Though he wished she wasn’t getting dressed up for this.

Judith just recently turned 21.

As required by law, every young adult that turned 21 were to attend a ball that is hosted every year by the royal family.

Though, there was a catch.

It was for a way for vampires to find a desirable mate among the human population. If they was able to return home by sunrise, then they were free to live their life as they pleased. If not, they becomes that vampire’s wife or husband.

Most were forbidden from seeing their families and friends ever again.

Kendrick would know. He never personally saw his best friend Ava again after her ball. Who then later became their queen when the former king and queen died.

Ava’s parents passed away few years after her coronation. They never saw their precious daughter again.

Now that same fate seem to be staring the seasoned Healer in the face.

And Kendrick isn’t ready to say goodbye to his little girl.

“Papa, you’re crying,” Judith whispered, a frown forming on her painted lips. She quickly walked up to the older man to wipe away his tears. Misty gold eyes locked with concerned ones.

“You’re so beautiful, baby girl,” Kendrick whispered. Judith hugged her father tight as he said this, waiting to prolong her trip to the castle. The older man didn’t hesitate to return it, breathing in the scent he grew accustomed to from when she was a baby.

“I’ll do my best to come back home,” Judith said softly, squeezing the man who sired her. Kendrick shook his head at this.

He didn’t want her to promise him anything.

Judith was the spitting image of him. His little girl grew up into a beautiful young woman. It would take a miracle for a vampire not to take notice of her.

“Please don’t promise me anything. I don’t think my old heart can take it...” Judith pursed her lips.

“You’re not old, Papa. You don’t look a day over 25,” she said in hopes of lifting the man’s spirits. And she got what she wanted. An inaudible chuckle rumbled in the his chest.

It’s just like his daughter to try to make him smile or laugh.

If he could never see her again, he can only pray that she’s mated to a good man.

“Thank you, Judith. I... I love you, baby girl...” Judith forced herself not to cry in front of her dad.

She didn’t like how this felt like a goodbye. She didn’t want to leave her father forever...

“I love you too, Papa...” The two stayed there for a bit longer until Kendrick pulled away with a soft sigh.

“Time to go baby girl...”

-------

Judith hugged her dad’s waist tighter as they approached the looming castle.

They weren’t rich. Her father spent a good amount of his savings to buy her dress and shoes.

When he wanted to buy her a carriage to escort her to the ball, she declined. She claimed that she was more than happy to be escorted by her father on horseback. Kendrick agreed, unwilling to deny his little girl anything.

They approached the entrance slowly before stopping a foot away.

Kendrick dismounted first before helping his daughter off their horse, Nerco Di Angelo. Judith hugged her father one last time before going to pet the dark horse, who let out huff and nuzzled her face.

“I love you, Nerco. Take good care of Papa,” she whispered before kissing the star on the horse’s forehead.

The sound of someone clearing their throat sounded off behind her.

Taking a deep breath, the young woman turned to find a guard staring passively at her.

Time to go.

Without a word, the guard gestured her to come inside. Judith turned to her father.

“I love you, Papa...” It took everything within the usually stoic man not to cry again.

“I love you too, Judith. Never forget that...” Nodding sadly, Judith walked into the castle with the guard in tow.

She sent a silent prayer in hopes of seeing her dear father again.

---------

Talbott was bored.

Extraordinarily so.

He felt the eyes of his parents burning holes into him on occasion and it annoyed him to no end.

The ball started some time ago and he’s already wishing it to be morning. He himself just recently turned 21 and his parents, along with the council, are looking at him to find a bride.

If not this year, then he will continue to socialize with potential mates every year until he does. After all, his father was 25 when he finally found his mother, who recently turned 21 at that time.

Ava and Trent glanced at their disinterested son with slight worry. They knew how much the young man hated social events. He did his best to be polite to his guests but not much more. They would be lucky if he found someone on the first try.

Ava sighed. Although she was happy and grateful with the life that she has, she sometimes missed the old life she once had. Under the old king and queen, they forbade her from seeing her friends and parents.

She missed them terribly. She hoped whoever her son chose that she could help them adjust to life as a part of the royal family. She and her husband even discussed about letting their family to come to the castle. After all, they clearly saw what it did to their relationship.

Despite Trent’s evident infatuation with her, Ava hated him for choosing her. If he never laid eyes on her, she would’ve still be with her parents and dear friends. It took a few years to even consummate their marriage because Ava refused to share a bed with him. She didn’t let him drink from her.

It took Trent years to win the young woman’s heart. With a decent amount of suffering on his part. To be deprived of the one that suppose to complete him drove him to points of madness and bloodlust.

They didn’t want the same thing to happen to their son...

Glancing at her son again, she noticed that he was sitting up a little straighter. Her brows shot up to her hairline.

He found someone...

Oh dear Gods above, please allow whoever it was to love her son. She’ll do anything to make sure that they’re happy, just as long they were able to love Talbott...

-----------

‘She’s so beautiful...’

Talbott’s red eyes were trained on a young dark skin woman in a white silk dress. The dress highlighted her slim, but curvy, figure. Her hair was up in a ponytail, ending around mid-back with a few locs framing her face. Her facial features were delicate and sharp.

Her eyes.

A brilliant shade of gold that would put the coins in the treasury to shame.

Talbott felt his body flush with heat and his gums throb a bit.

He had to get to know her.

The young woman was conversing with a familiar pair. David Willows, husband to Merula Synde, and Vixen Mcmachen, wife to Barnaby Lee.

Interesting...

With no warning to his parents, Talbott got up and walked towards the trio.

David saw the prince coming and bowed.

“Your Highness,” the young man greeted. Vixen smiled and curtsied to him, giving him a cheeky wink all the meanwhile.

It was at that point Judith felt a presence behind her. Turning around, she came face to face with the Crown Prince himself.

Swiftly, Judith curtsied.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” she said, willing her voice to remain steady. She straighten and was minorly surprised to find the prince staring at her.

“Good evening, David. Rosalina. Miss,” Talbott said, taking Judith’s hand and kissing the back of it.

‘Her scent...’ Talbott’s eyes grew a little heavy, his pupils dilated. It was so inviting...

Vanilla and along with something else he couldn’t name. He also detected a faint accent in her voice, something completely unfamiliar, but far from unpleasant.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he started slowly, curious to know the name to this enchanting woman.

David cleared his throat.

“Prince Talbott, may I introduce to you, Judith Harris. A childhood friend to Vixen and I,” he said.

“Pleasure to meet you, Judith...” The young woman did her best to suppress a shiver. The way the prince said her name...

It was like he was tasting it.

“Please, Your Highness. The pleasure is all mine,” she said, trying her best not to read too deep into how the way Talbott was staring at her. It didn’t help that he had yet to let go of her hand...

David and Vixen did their best not to smirk. Their partners so owe them a few gold coins. They were both happy to find their old friend. Especially since it’s been 3 years since David married to the love of his life and Vixen just a year after him.

What they didn’t expect was for Prince Talbott to fancy her.

They was just talked to her about their lives at the castle and their relationships. Judith was just telling them how she was doing, her archery, combat lessons and art. Just as she was telling them that she was hoping that no vampire took an interest in her, the Gods placed Prince Talbott before her.

Seems like she hasn’t quite learned her lesson about speaking certain things aloud. The Gods loved a challenge.

“May I have a dance with you, darling?” Judith sharply inhaled, willing her heart not to race.

‘It’s just a dance. Nothing more...’

“It would be an honor, Your Highness.” Talbott wanted to pout. He wished that Judith would say his name. He wants to know how it sounded like with her faint accent.

Offering his arm, Judith interloped hers in his. Saying goodbye to her old friends, they walked to the center of the dance floor. A slow song started to play.

The two took the initial position. One hand on Judith’s lower back. One hand on Talbott’s broad shoulder. Their remaining hand intertwined with each other’s. The pair moved along with the music.

‘Warm. She’s really warm and soft...’ Talbott was biting the inside of his cheek, willing his hand to stay in that one spot. His heart was beating rapidly now and he was fighting his instincts.

To pull her closer.

To inhale more of the sweet scent that clung to her skin.

To taste her full lips.

To sink his fangs into that elegant long neck, marking her as his.

He bet she tasted divine...

“Are you enjoying the ball?” Her lovely voice brought him back to the present. He cleared his throat.

“I admit, I was rather bored at first,” he admitted. Gold eyes glimmered with curiosity.

“Oh?” she inquired. He nodded before pulling her closer to satisfy his needs a little.

“But with you here, I can finally enjoy the night.” Those pretty eyes widen and pearly whites bit the plump flesh of her lower lip.

Talbott fought back a groan.

He wanted to be the one doing that...

“Oh! What a... lovely thing to say,” Judith whispered, uneasy.

She wasn’t going to deny that she felt something towards the tall handsome vampire, but she wanted to go home.

Go back home to her Papa.

And that idea seems bleaker and bleaker with the way Talbott was looking at her. She swears she can see a hint of his fangs every time he spoke.

“Is something wrong, darling,” Talbott asked.

“Oh, no! Just a little thirsty.” Judith knew she was lying through the skin of her teeth but she knew better than to openly reject the Crown Prince.

She liked her head exactly where it was, thank you very much.

“Come. Let’s get you something to drink then,” the young man smiled. Judith tried not to grimace.

‘Yup, those were definitely his fangs I saw...’ she thought to herself as Talbott led her to the refreshment table. Judith wasn’t a fan of wine and stuck with water. Talbott even hand feeding her some samplers as they converse with one another.

“Hello son.” The pair turned to the masculine voice that spoke. Judith felt her blood run cold.

The king and queen.

She really may not go home after all.

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

Ava and Trent have been watching their son curiously as he acquainted himself with a young dark skin woman.

Not once has he left her side. The two look at each other and decided to meet the woman who seem to unknowingly captivated their son. They approached the two by the refreshment table.

“Hello son.” The couple turned to them. Talbott nodded at them as the young woman curtsied.

“Mum. Dad.”

“Good evening, Your Majesties.” Ava studied the young woman closely.

She looked very familiar.

“Good evening, my love. And who might this be,” Ava asked. Talbott wrapped an arm around the short woman’s waist, causing her to flush a soft shade of red.

“Mother, Father. This is Judith Harris.” Ava inhaled sharply.

“Did... did you say Harris,” she asked softly. Could it be-

Judith shyly glanced at the royal couple, gold eyes shining.

“You’re Kendrick’s daughter, aren’t you?” Judith blinked in surprise. She knew that her father and the queen were childhood friends, but she didn’t expect her to remember him.

“Yes I am, Your Majesty...” The likeness was uncanny. She looked like the female version of her father. The queen smiled and hugged her.

Judith stiffen at the sudden hug and hesitantly hugged the queen back.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t expect a piece of my past to catch up with me...” The queen was eager to learn more about Kendrick’s little girl.

And her future daughter-in-law...

If she was Kendrick’s daughter, she shouldn’t have to worry about Talbott’s mating to her. Kendrick, although cold and aloof, was a very sweet and caring man. She’ll bet her crown that his daughter was the same exact way.

Though she didn’t like how Judith kept glancing at the entrance every once and awhile.

She understood the girl’s desire to leave but she didn’t want her son to suffer. Especially when he was already showing signs of infatuation towards her.

‘Please, all I ask is for you to give him a chance’ she silently pleaded.

-------

Talbott was growing restless.

He was happy to see that the young woman he chose was to the approval of his parents. Especially since she seem to be the daughter to a childhood friend of his mum.

But he wanted to be alone with her.

So when Judith said she wanted to get some air, he jumped at the opportunity to show her the gardens.

The walk there was silent. They reached the heart of the garden, sitting on the lip of the fountain.

“This place is breathtaking,” she whispered. Talbott bit his lip as he stared at her.

She was breathtaking.

The moonlight bathed her in its ancient glow.

Her molten gold eyes lit up like embers of a flame.

Her cheekbones, collarbones and shoulders were kissed by the moonlight itself, reflecting the slivery rays.

Her dress took on a silver light, making her take on the form of a goddess.

‘Mine...’

“Yes, it is...” Judith stiffen when she heard the response whispered against her cheek. A cool pair of lips pressed against her cheek for a chaste kiss.

“I’ll be frank with you, darling. I never would’ve thought I would find my mate tonight, but I’m glad I was wrong,” Talbott said softly before placing another kiss to her cheek.

Just as he was about to wrap his arms around her waist, Judith pulled away. She was standing, taking cautious steps backwards.

Talbott felt his heart stall, fighting back a snarl.

“I-I’m sorry, Your Highness... b-but I-I can’t be your mate...” A frown found its way on Talbott’s handsome face, as he was quick to stand with her.

“I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer, darling. I can’t live without you now that I found you,” Talbott said slowly as he approached her, trying to keep his instincts in check. He’s seen vampires being rejected by their mate, and it was never a pretty sight.

A lot of them were driven to bouts of madness and eventually had to be taken out of their misery.

He didn’t want to end up like them.

He’ll give her anything she wants, all he asks in return was her unconditional love.

Judith, feeling like cornered prey, did the only thing she could think of.

Run.

A snarl sounded out behind her, sending a cold wave of fear down her spine but she didn’t dare stop or look back. She found a garden maze and quickly ran inside, in hopes of losing the prince.

Thanks to her training, she rather light on her feet, even in heels surprisingly. Low growls and snarls filled the air all around her so she could barely tell where Talbott was.

She wanted to cry.

She didn’t ask for this.

She didn’t want to become the wife to a vampire, even if he was a prince.

All she wanted was to go home to her Papa.

She let out a scream when a hand grabbed her by the elbow, spinning her around to find glowing red eyes staring down at her.

A pair of lips descended on her soft, vulnerable ones. A sob escaped the back of her throat as she tried pushing against Talbott’s chest.

Though her efforts were futile.

Talbott pulled away to look at his mate’s teary face. Though his eyes spoke volumes of his anger, Judith never noticed the fear there as well.

The heir to the throne said nothing as he laid kisses along the length of her neck.

“Talbott, no! Please,” she cried, squirming to get away when she felt cold fangs brush against her skin.

“I’m sorry, my beloved...” was the last thing Judith heard before the pain of his fangs sinking into her neck took root in her system.

Her cry of pain was broke the peace of the night before everything fell quiet once again.

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

Kendrick watched as the morning rays peaked over the horizon, waiting.

His daughter was no where in sight.

A lone tear escaped his eye as sun made it’s way up in the sky. Accepting the fate he was given.

#hphm #hphm mc #au #alternate universe #vampire fanfiction #hphm talbott #jacob's sibling #jacob's sister #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott winger #talbott x mc #talbott x jacob's sibling #judith harris #oc

34 notes · View notes

coldmorte · 3 years

Note

Honestly if Dutch van der Linde curb stomped me I would probably thank him, no questions asked, and I think you'll say the same-

OKAY.

You know me WAY TOO WELL. I was thinking about this ALL day and smiling to myself because it’s SO TRUE. I mean, what a conversation starter and one hell of an amazing story to tell… in the event of survival.

Also, I was quite captivated by this idea (and apparently quite bored). It’s been a long ass week, I needed to blow off steam, and you planted the idea in my mind.

SO I BLAME YOU FOR THE SHORT STORY THAT CAME OUT OF THIS 😵

This has to be one of the worst things I have EVER WRITTEN and definitely the worst post I have EVER made on the internet.

I am straight-up warning you right now - you probably don’t even want to read what this turned into. I hesitated as to whether or not I should even post this because it is SO BAD, but I figured… what the hell? What do I have to lose? I don’t give a damn. (This blog WAS reputable once upon a time, I swear....)

Aside from the internal shame I bear and my strong desire to forget this, I will give one other major warning… VIOLENCE. This is a bit graphic, but hey… I didn’t bring up the idea. I merely brought it to life. 🤷‍♀️

Sooooo with that in mind, PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOUR EYES AND MIND WILL FOREVER BE CURSED, BUT IF YOU ACCEPT THOSE TERMS, GO AHEAD. 😈😈😈😈

(PS if anybody is considering unfollowing me because of this post, I do not blame you one bit. But also, I promise it isn’t always like... this.)

I heard him before I saw him.

The sharp click-clack of his boot heels echoed loudly as he marched down the paved avenue. It was a harsh sound - heavy, but quick. There was a clear purpose in the steps. In the dead of night like this, nobody would dare to venture out without a good reason.

It had to be him.

Taking a drag from my cigarette, I smiled to myself as I lifted my head and blew the smoke towards the stars overhead. My eyes watched as it curled and twisted against the backdrop of the night sky, eventually dissipating into the vast heavens above.

When I finally lowered my chin, I could see his figure rapidly nearing out of the corner of my eye. I dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with my foot. Still, I kept my head turned away from him. I wasn’t about to give him my attention that easily.

“You.”

The tone of his voice was deep and heated as he confronted me. I kept my eyes fixed on the ground as I saw him try to stand in my line of sight and force me to look at him, which only encouraged me to tuck my chin closer to my chest. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I could feel my lips pulling into a wider smile.

“Look at me.” His voice seethed with so much fury, he didn’t even have to raise it to convey the emotional gravity of the words. Even so, I refused to give in that easily. He would have to do more than that if he was going to get what he came for.

Seeming to catch onto my resolve, his hands lurched forward and grabbed me by the jaw. He pulled my face upwards and held it there, forcing me to look into his eyes. It was hard to speak with his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my cheeks as he pinned my head to the wall. I could barely mumble out, “Hello to you as well, Dutch.”

Not even taking the time to allow for decent civility, Dutch ignored the greeting and got straight to the point. “Where are they? What did you do with them?”

I squirmed slightly under his touch as I moved my hands up to grip at his wrists. Tugging them downwards, he allowed them to be moved to my shoulders instead. However, his grasp tightened as he leaned his face closer to make up for the change. I knew better than to step out of line or push him anymore than I already was, but -

“With what? I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

Involuntarily, my hands reached forwards and clutched at the fabric of his waistcoat to steady myself as he shoved me harder into the wall. I practically hummed at the feeling of the tight muscles of his chest beneath, biting my lip to suppress my ever-growing smirk. Even in the dim light, I could see his eyes narrow as his face pulled into a fierce scowl. The vein in his forehead throbbed with intensifying anger as he hissed out his next words. All this energy, all this attention…. just for me.

“You know what! MY GODDAMN EVELYN MILLER BOOKS!”

At that remark, I couldn’t hold it back any more. I felt my lips part into a wide grin as I flashed my teeth at him. I knew I was toeing a fine line here - quite a precarious one, to be more exact. My own eyes narrowed as I relished in the pure mirth of the situation. Dutch would have to kill me before I’d give that information up.

“Come on, you’re the one always saying we need more money. Miller’s entire collection, all signed first editions? They’re worth more money than the entire gang could earn in a month, maybe two.”

Silence.

It was as if time itself froze. Even the breeze and the insects of the night became mute.

Then, those brown eyes flashed with a glimmer of rage as they widened. His lips fell open in an inaudible gasp as the fingers dug into my shoulders with bruising strength. Voice uneven and barely above a whisper, it was filled with cracks as he snarled back, “You… sold my books?”

It started in my chest - a shake. Quiet, at first. But steadily, it crept up my throat and out my mouth.

A laugh.

The look on his face - the horror of it all - evolved into something comical beyond the wildest depths of my imagination. I could not resist.

“How else are we gonna get to Tahiti?”

Even underneath my chuckles, I could hear it. Or maybe, felt would be a better word. An exhale so indigent and ferocious it came out as more of a growl. It shook his whole body, all the way down to the tips of his fingers still holding my shoulders against the wall.

But it was short-lived.

In an instant, I felt the breath get knocked from my lungs as those strong arms ripped me away from the wall and threw me to the ground. I grunted at the mere speed and agility of it all, but as soon as I was able to recover from the shock, I could feel the quivering sensation again.

Laughter, louder this time.

My whole body trembled from the sensation as I lifted my head. I was on my stomach now with Dutch somewhere behind me. Drawing an arm inwards, I moved to push myself upwards. I felt weak as a whole range of emotions coursed through my body - shock, amusement, terror, achievement...

Raising my head, I could see the curb of the street in front of me. Figuring I could use it as a place to hoist myself up, I began to crawl my way towards it. However, he was quicker. Just as I planted my palm on its brick edge, the sole of his boot dug firmly into my back and pinned my face against it.

The laughter was muffled, but it continued on. My mouth was propped up against the hard surface of the curb as the rest of my body remained in the street.

Dutch said nothing, but the more my laughter continued to escalate, the harder his boot gouged into my spine.

Until, he paused.

Pulling his foot away, the pressure disappeared. I was free from his power.

For a second.

My lungs felt like they collapsed in on themselves, the laughter dying on my lips as my face was crushed into the brick curb with such brute force that my entire vision went blank. I could feel my front teeth snap as the remnants rebounded against the roof of my mouth.

But I was still breathing. I was still awake.

Barely.

I could taste the blood from my gums burning the tip of my tongue as I drew in an unsteady breath. His foot was no longer on my back, but I knew he was still there. He wouldn’t just leave me.

Mustering up all the strength I could, I rolled myself over. Eyes blinking open slowly, it was hard to see at first. The world was a messy blur, hazy and clouded over with spots of black.

And yet, through it all, I could still see him.

Still standing over me, Dutch was staring down at my crumpled body. I tried to blink a few times, but I was seeing double of everything. I could think of nothing to do, except for…

Laugh.

What more could I do? My jaw hung limply open, the cacophonous cackling coming out in pained chokes of breath and labored coughs. I could see the shape of his body as it leaned forward, a hand brushing along my cheek.

I had to say something, I had to…

“D…”

His hand froze. My entire face burned with relentless agony. He had won. It was over.

And yet, I could not give up. Not just yet. I had to get it out.

My final word.

“D… daddy…”

The sensation felt so distant and removed from my body, but I could feel it nonetheless. A rumbling laughter - weakened, but most certainly still discernible - returned to my chest as he snatched his hand away. Standing above me once again, I could hear the click of his gun as he pulled the hammer back.

“You never learn, do you?’

With that, an intense ringing filled my ears. It was deafening at first, but as my vision plunged into nothingness, it slowly faded away.

All that remained was my dead body and the broken grin plastered across my face, forever preserving my final moment of overwhelming pleasure and gratitude.

---- FINE ----

Note: I was thinking about this. I honestly have no idea how I would say the “th” in “thanks” without teeth, so I’d probably resort to showing my appreciation through excessive joy instead… and by taking my last moments to sneak you-know-what-word in there. I think I could manage that without teeth.

Hehe. Anyway, this is still WAYYY out of character for me. I just was in a reallyyyyyy weird mood, and I’ve always had too vivid of an imagination. Please, forgive me. I am done now. (If you DID read this far, I am genuinely curious to hear your thoughts on my absolutely horrific garbage, though) 🙃

HAVE A GREAT DAY 💜💜💜💜

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remedialpotions · 4 years

Text

An Artistic Rendering, part 2

I couldn’t stop myself. (But also, I had a lot of fun writing this so... here. Have it.)

Wednesday night art classes were typically followed by a casual dinner at a nearby restaurant. Usually, Hermione enjoyed this post-class debrief session with her mum, but that had been under normal circumstances, when they’d been working on drawings of flowers or cats or bowls of fruit. Tonight, Hermione was not totally sure how she would tolerate sitting across from her mother for an entire meal, nor if she would ever be able to look her in the eye again.

“So, what do you think you want to order?” asked Mum cheerfully, opening up her menu. “I’m rather hungry, aren’t you? Maybe we ought to order a starter - the bruschetta here is supposed to be excellent.”

“Sure,” Hermione said, staring blankly into her own menu. Words like ‘carbonara’ and ‘pomodoro’ and ‘rigatoni’ floated meaninglessly in front of her. “Whatever you want.”

“Ooh, let’s get some wine, too,” Mum added. Had Hermione possessed the wherewithal to look at her, she would have been goggling in disbelief. How on earth was she so cheerful after what had just transpired? How was she, too, not completely disturbed? “How about Chianti? I never know what’s supposed to ‘pair well’ with something else, I just always get what I like-”

“Great,” interjected Hermione, eyes fixed on a description for chicken marsala. “Sure. Whatever.”

Mum set down her menu; in her periphery, Hermione sensed her leaning curiously toward her. “What’s going on, dear? Are you all right?”

“‘What’s going on?’” Hermione repeated back, incredulous. “‘Am I all right?’”

“Well-” Mum blinked, taken aback. “I know there were a couple other drawings that the instructor liked better, but she still thought yours was rather good - and you’ve always been better at things like science and maths anyway-”

“It’s not that.”

Just as Mum opened her mouth to inquire further, a young woman in a crisp white blouse and black pants arrived at their table. “Good evening, ladies,” she greeted them. “My name is Nicola and I’ll be your server this evening. May I get you started with something to drink?”

Mum ordered the bottle of Chianti (Hermione privately thought they might need more than one by the time the night was over) and the bruschetta, and Nicola flounced away.

“Mum,” Hermione said, once she was sure that their server was out of earshot. “You drew a picture of Dad.”

“Well, of course I did.” Her voice was infuriatingly casual. “He was the obvious subject, wasn’t he?”

“So you don’t think that was awkward for me at all?”

“Yours was of Ron,” Mum pointed out, leaving Hermione to briefly wonder how she was possibly related to someone so level-headed. “I’m certainly not interested in seeing my future son-in-law like that.”

The discomfort of the evening was dulled, at least momentarily, by this implication that she would be marrying Ron. While they were not yet engaged - Hermione was in no rush, and perfectly happy to cohabitate - she was also quite certain that she would be spending her life with Ron, and it was nice to know that her mum was so certain of it too.

Though, perhaps that made the events of the evening even more bizarre.

“That’s different,” replied Hermione finally.

“How, exactly?”

“He’s not in his fifties, for one-”

“One day he will be,” said Mum, “and I’m sure when that day comes, you’ll find him just as attractive as you do now-”

“Oh my God,” groaned Hermione, squeezing her eyes shut against the barrage of unwelcome mental images that her mum had just conjured up for her.

“Well, really.” Hermione forced herself to open her eyes, only to see a knowing, almost smug sort of look on her mum’s face (perhaps they had more in common than she thought). “Am I meant to believe that this was the first and only time you’ve ever seen it?”

“Please stop-”

“And don’t think we don’t know what happened in Australia.”

Before Hermione could inquire further about this - Australia was a topic that almost never arose between her and her parents, for obvious reasons - Nicola returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. The instant the wine was poured, Hermione seized upon her glass and drank deeply from it.

“What were you saying about Australia?” Hermione asked, once she had stopped to catch her breath.

“Just that it was clear what had… transpired between the two of you.”

Hermione paused, considering this, hoping her face was not giving anything away. It was true that she and Ron had had sex for the first time in Australia, just days before locating her parents and restoring their memories. And she did not expect her mum to be under any illusions about the nature of her relationship with Ron; they lived together, and before that, she had been quite unabashed about spending the night at his. But it was one thing to know, and quite another to discuss it.

“You could tell?”

“A mother always knows,” said Mum blithely around her own, more reserved sip of wine. “And really, it was just a matter of time. I always knew that.”

“You did?”

“It was always clear to me, and to your dad, that you had a certain connection with him,” said Mum. She had grown thoughtful now, introspective. “Actually, I imagine it was clear to everyone but the pair of you at times.”

“You’re right about that.”

“It’s why we were always happy to let you spend summers with his family, or spend your Christmas at Hog - at school,” she finished lamely, eyes darting around the restaurant. “You had such trouble fitting in when you were younger, and we were so happy that you found someone who… who understands you, the way he does.”

Hermione nodded, thankful that Nicola had swept over to them with a plate of bruschetta, because she was at a rare loss for words. She always knew her parents had liked Ron, and they’d made no secret of their gratefulness that she had found friends at last in him and Harry. But she hadn’t known that they had seen the depth of their relationship, or understood its uniqueness. Most people questioned what she and Ron saw in each other… but her parents had always known.

“And he really must love you,” Mum went on, helping herself to a piece of toasted bread piled high with chopped tomato, fresh basil, and grated parmesan. “To have done what he did for you.”

Myriad events flashed through Hermione’s mind: Ron, at twelve, vomiting up slugs; at thirteen, telling off Professor Snape; at fourteen, begrudgingly pinning an SPEW badge to his robes; at eighteen, offering himself up for torture in exchange for her. Posing starkers for a figure drawing ranked rather low on his running list of self-sacrifices, and yet it was not lost on Hermione how lucky they were that this was now their biggest concern.

“You’re right,” replied Hermione, taking her own slice of bruschetta. “He really does.”

***

Ron was at the sink, scrubbing a sponge over a dinner plate, when Hermione walked through the door of their flat. “Hi,” Hermione greeted him brightly, approaching him in search of a quick kiss hello. “I’ve brought leftover spag bol if you want it.”

“You know I do.” Ron shut off the faucet and picked up a small towel to dry his hands, then bent to touch his lips to Hermione’s. “A departure from your usual, innit?”

“I didn’t want anything too fancy,” replied Hermione, handing the styrofoam box to Ron, who immediately opened it to peer inside. “I was a bit put off my appetite to be honest with you.”

“Uh oh.” Ron fished a fork out of a drawer. “Dare I ask how it went?”

“You were very well-received,” Hermione assured him, making him grin as he twisted strands of pasta around his fork. “But erm…”

“Yes?”

“My mum… she, er…”

“Oh, no.” Ron paused with his fork in mid-air. “She didn’t have… comments, did she?”

“She did, actually, but that’s not the problem. She…” Hermione waited while Ron chewed his mouthful of pasta. Unlike her, his appetite only increased during times of distress. “She drew my dad.”

To her surprise, Ron burst into raucous laughter. “Yeah, I expected that she would have done.”

“You could have warned me!”

“And you could have warned me that a group of twenty people were going to see my todger before you had me starkers in the sitting room,” Ron grinned, “but you didn’t, did you?”

Though she was outwardly scowling at him, Hermione had to work to keep a smile off her face. “Again, it’s not like I took photos-”

“Merlin’s pants, I bet that’ll be next-”

“And really, it’s quite different when it’s your own father - I didn’t look at it or anything,” Hermione was quick to state, “but even just knowing…”

She broke off with a shudder. Ron set down the container of pasta and folded her into his arms, where she laid her cheek automatically against his chest.

“That sounds traumatic,” said Ron, gently kissing the top of Hermione’s head.

“It really was.”

“Should we sign you up for therapy?”

“Yes, please.”

With another little chuckle, he kissed the top of her head again, and she settled in against him. Her mum had been right: she did have a connection with him that was unlike anything else. She had always known that they would end up exactly as they were now, even when they hadn’t been able to see it themselves.

“So you said your mum had some comments?” asked Ron after a few minutes’ easy silence. “I’m a little scared to ask.”

“Not about the picture,” Hermione said. “Mostly about how… how good you are for me.”

“Yeah?”

“She referred to you as her future son-in-law.”

Ron loosened his grip on Hermione just enough to look down at her with surprise. “Did she really?”

Hermione nodded again. “Does that… freak you out?”

It was not a question of whether he loved her, or was wholeheartedly committed to her; she knew without a shadow of a doubt how he felt. But with marriage came things like babies and home loans and joint vaults at Gringotts, and it was not unreasonable to think that at nineteen, he simply might not be ready for it.

But he just shook his head, and moved in to kiss her again - this one soft, warm, lingering. “Nope. Not at all.”

Happily, Hermione resumed hugging him.

“Maybe next time,” said Ron, his hand rubbing idly up and down her spine, “you lot could do something a little more… you could join a book club, maybe. Something like that.”

“That could be fun,” responded Hermione. “Only, my mum’s got a bit of a penchant for romance novels.”

“Oh. Perhaps not, then…”

#romione #rhr #ron weasley #hermione granger #so just to be clear Hermione's mum did not look at the drawing #she's not a creep lol #also nobody should take the mention of bruschetta as 'excellent' as an endorsement of raw tomatoes

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years

Text

Chapstick Game on!

Hello this is my first kind of smut, but still flirty and still safe to read imagine / scenario!

I did this real quick, in like an hour or so.... but the air is helping me to type this and HERE IT IS... KISSING GAME WITH TEN!!

warning : kissing, parties, alcohol, flirty reader and ten!

ENJOY!!

“So that is the new boy everyone is talking about?” you point your chin to the new guy stepping into the party.

Your best friend follows your gaze and nods, “Yeah apparently that is the hot guy everyone is busy getting into his pants!”

You smirk and swirl the red punch in your party cup, “Including you Yang yang?”

Yang yang rolls his eyes, “No.”

“Are you going to whisper

Ich habe in der Zeitung gelesen, dass Küsse glücklich machen. Darf ich dich glücklich machen?”

You tease your friend, leaning in and whispering that one line you memorized by heart since you like teasing Yang-yang with it, after witnessing him saying that to a girl just to get rejected!

Yang yang grits his teeth and steps closer to you, “Do you know what that means sweetie?” Ooof the alcohol is strong tonight!

Yang-yang doesn’t usually call you pet names in public. Although you are also not his girl or anything.

“No, so tell me what it means.” You also take a step closer and linger your eyes into his red lips.

Yang yang leans in and whispers into your ear, “I read in the newspaper that kissing makes you happy. May I make you happy?”

You whistle, and playfully punch his chest “That is hot! Now translate that to I don’t know... what does this boy speak?” you scan the crowded room just to see the “hot” topic sitting on one of the couches, surrounded by girls!

Yang yang pours a second drink to his cup, “Rumor has it he’s a transfer student from china.”

You snap your finger, “Didn’t you learn Chinese last summer? Great! Now make me a pick up line” Yang yang can only pull up a middle finger for you; nevertheless, he made one for you and you somehow managed to memorize it in your cloudy head.

“Now watch and learn, I’ll make everyone surprised.” You wink and press a quick kiss on the boy’s cheek before leaving to meet the new boy.

“Yow welcome back princess!” Jaehyun stands up to engulf you in a hug and invites you to sit in his squad’s table. Your eyes are fixed on the new man with blonde hair. He sure looks pretty up close and his jaw is strong!

“Have you met the hot guy already?” Johnny offers you another glass of punch. This time it is green. You stare to the guy sitting across you, right and left definitely full of girls you never knew were even coming to parties like this.

“Hmm I see lots of new faces, or did I miss a lot?” you take your time to get his attention. He looks like he is also scanning you, and you see the boldness hidden behind his “good-boy” look.

“You didn’t miss anything. Just that yeah there’s a lot of new faces.” Yuta, who is beside you, raises his glass and you press yours into his to cheer. You fix your eyes on him, like a predator keeping an eye to its prey. He, doesn’t seem to waver under your intense gaze.

Duhh even Jaehyun, the primadona, turns so red when you give him your intense charismatic look. Well you admit you’re not the prettiest, gosh there are more pretty girls out there, but you have charisma and a certain girl crush vibes that draws all the man to line up and win a wink or a phone number for you. If lucky, even be your friends! When you see the night deepens, you start your move.

“So, you’re the guy who steal my spotlight right?” You act like you don’t care as you ask him this.

“Sorry, what do you mean pretty?” His sweet honey like voice is deep enough to make your hair stands. Yuta saw the small shudder you did and he just smirked, knowing well how this might end.

“I mean, before you came here… The eyes were always on me, but today… look at all these people… everyone wishing to be able to taste that sweet lips of yours! Let me ask you one quick question” You see the glint of interest in his eyes and with a smirk, you hit the jackpot

“Kissing is a language of love, so how about a conversation?”

Not much people understand the Chinese phrase you just blurt out, from the peripheral view of your eyes you can see Yang yang smiling and giving you a thumbs up.

The guy across you smirks and leans his body closer to the table. The girls surrounding him are slowly leaving, but the crowds are whispering now, waiting to see and hear what happens next.

“My name is Ten, and if kissing is the language of love, why don’t we kiss instead of converse?” he replies you in a clear sound in ENGLISH, which cause the whole room to gasp.

His smirk is still there, and the aura he shows, dominates the room. He is a flirty one, just like you and he clearly doesn’t like losing.

“Game on,” You drink your cup and wipe your lips.

“Yang yang, you know what to do,” you turn your head and give the boy a very sweet smile.

The said boy smirks back and returns with a bowl of flavoured chapsticks.

“Simple game, you have your eyes blind folded and guess what flavour am I wearing.” You raise your brow, wanting to know if he is in or not.

The whole room is cheering and rooting for the new guy to accept your challenge and maybe win.

“What do you bet?” He leans in closer, body almost leaving the chair.

“Oh I don’t know.. anything you wish? Guess you wouldn’t make it pass 4 correct answers.”

Ten stares back into your eyes, “Princess, if I guess 5 correct answers, I get to choose my prize.”

You think for a moment, hey chances are low for him to answer five in a row.

“Six in a row? If I win, you’ll need to post a pic of you in a maid costume and write it down that you’re a loser.” You lick your lips, already so ready to make this new guy lose.

Ten pushes his chair back, “Everyone here is a witness, if I lose I’ll do what she wants, but if I win, that’s enough to proof that I am the best kisser.”

The whole room cheers and claps as you leave the sofa and move to the two chairs someone had prepared in the middle of the room. You don’t really care if you win or lose, really you just love the adrenaline rushing through your body.

Jaehyun closes Ten’s sharp eyes with someone’s tie and you wipe your lips with some wet tissues. You know the chances are low for him to get 6 in a row.

“Hey rule number one, no peeking… rule two, I’m kissing you once.”

“If you’re only kissing me once, then let me be the one who ends it” Ten cuts you and you ponder for a while

“Okay! No hands!”

Ten obediently brings his hands to his back and he leans back to his chair, “Since I cannot see you, why don’t you come and sit on my lap. That way I can taste your lips better.”

You’re surprised by his boldness, though his eyes are closed, you swear you can feel his intense gaze on you. You gulp, though you’ve done this challenge so many times… no one has been this daring.

“Afraid princess?” Ten asks calmly with his lack of sight.

The crowd cheers again and with pushes from Jaehyun and Yuta you finally make your body balance over his strong lap.

“Game starts in three two one” Johnny hands you the first flavour.

You play the game fair and square, applying a good amount of balm to your plump lips and after smacking them you lean to reach his lips.

The moment your lips touch his, you feel fireworks inside your body. There’s something so new with his perfect smooth lips. How they meld perfectly with yours, and how he sucks on yours while you can feel his tongue runs on your red apples. He is a great kisser and you almost run out of breath.

Ten pulls back and you feel your body heat up,

He licks his own lips and with a smug smile shouts the answer, “Easy, cherry!”

You’re going easy on him and as you put on the next flavour, ten was still calm as if nothing hot is happening here.

“Okay second one, no sniffing okay.” You launch yourself for a second-deep kiss. Man, this boy here is a new sensation. You’ve never had your heart fluttering from a kissing game, was it the alcohol?

You guess he is struggling with the second one, coz he takes longer time tasting your lips and you need to stabilize your body with his shoulder, since Ten still has his hands tidy.

“You’re going easy on me or am I a pro?” Ten smacks his lips several times, “Mango”

You toss the flavour away, gosh you’ll step up the game.

“It’s starters honey, enjoy it while it last.” You grimace at the next flavour Johnny handed to you; nevertheless, you press your lips back together with his, and this time he did not hold the kiss for too long.

“GOSH THAT TASTES HORRIBLE! BACON!” He struggles with his now bacon-taste lips, “Can someone wipe it off?” and with that queue, all of the girls are taking out wet tissues and the fastest one came to clean up his lips.

“Ah who’s that? Thank you!” Ten sounds so cheerful.

“I’ve got three correct answers and only need three more… Is this all you’ve got miss?” He teases you and the next flavour you have in your hand will be the hard one.

“That is simply candy cane and not peppermint” He smirks after his fourth right guess.

You’re now forgetting the game already and instead got lost in his sweet deep hot kisses. He’s so careful yet at the same time so wild for your lips.

“Tell me does my lips swell already?” He can still tease you with his quirky remarks.

To be honest both of your lips are already red and swollen, Ten’s sucking game was not a joke.

“Alright two more!” Yuta hands you a spoon of chocolate, a trick to make him lose.

Ten did not waver when he finds the new creamy texture on your lips. He was sure you’ll do this, and try to make him lose. But Ten is a best party player himself and he did this game a lot of times.

He enjoys himself tasting your lips and licking off the creamy texture on your lips, he tastes them for a while and thinks of all the chocolates he knows.

“It’s not chapstick.. I don’t know if I should call this as a cheating, but honey that is Nutella and I am sure.”

The whole audience gasps and claps their hands, they also thought ten would lose here, but no this man is crazy.

“Okay sorry, but here’s the last one.”

You swear Ten was the one playing the game on you now, for you can feel him smooching you so far to the point where you did not realize his tongue is already inside your mouth. You gasp at his action, but fuck the rules! You bring your hands to cup his cheek and you angle yourself to kiss him back. Your fingers gently tuck on his hair when your lungs scream for air. You tap his nape and he gets the code. Ten pulls back, just to have a triumphant smile plastered on his face. It’s as if he is already sure he will win.

“Yow queen, you better step up your game… practice your kiss more and change that flavours. The last one is Dr. Pepper and looks like I win the game, right?”

He takes off his blindfold and tosses them to you.

“Guess everybody here needs to wait for another chance to see me in a maid dress! I’d totally look hot and cute, but sadly you all need to imagine it for now!” Ten wipes his lips with one thumb and winks at you

“It was a nice game, (y/n)!” He grabs a new drink and leaves to answer the questions the other party people are having.

Yang yang stands by your side and laughs at you, “Guess we finally found someone who’s the same match as you.”

You bite your swollen lips and smirks at your friend, “Didn’t you realize I have never given him my name? Yet he knew me already? Guess I was not the only one learning things about him.” You bottom up your drink and go to hang out with the remaining boys.

Later on, that night, nobody knows the secret rendezvous you and Ten have.

THE END!!! hahaha tell me if I can write more like these.. Imagine a 7 minutes in heaven with shyboy!jaehyun AAAA BRB OP IS DEAD IMAGINING THINGS

#ten x you #ten x reader #ten x y/n #wayv smut #ten imagines #ten scenarios #ten smut #nct smut #nct imagine #wayv imagines #nct fanfic #ten fanfic #wayv ten scenarios #nct masterlist #wayv masterlist #yang yang x reader #yang yang x you #chittaphon x you #chittaphon x reader

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joachimnapoleon · 4 years

Note

Hello, Can you tell me about the relationship between Joachim Murat and Caroline Bonaparte. Thank you.

I've been wanting to write about their relationship more in-depth for a long time, but I've been putting it off for various reasons, so thanks for giving me an excuse to finally get down to it. :) And... this is probably going to be pretty long. Their relationship was very complicated and often tempestuous (I could use that exact phrasing to describe Murat's relationship with Napoleon, but that's another, possibly even longer post, for another day).

I'm still not entirely certain how I feel about Caroline. She has been greatly maligned over the years, and is, in my opinion, the most misunderstood and demonized of all the Bonaparte siblings aside from Napoleon himself. So much of what we know (or think we know) about her, derives from memoirs that were largely hostile to her; she left none of her own (though her daughter Louise and granddaughter Caroline did). Her remaining published correspondence is sparse, and very one-sided; she apparently was in the habit of destroying most of her received correspondence, including nearly every letter she ever received from her husband, and Murat almost never kept copies of the ones he sent her. So there is this gaping hole in their correspondence where you almost never have Murat's voice. This lost correspondence has been the biggest bane of my existence since I started studying Murat a few years ago.

Their first meeting may have been at Mombello in 1797, but if so, it would've been brief, as Murat only stayed there for a short time before returning to Brescia (and his then-mistress, Madame Ruga). But it seems to have been long enough for Caroline to have become completely infatuated with him, and to confess her feelings for him to Hortense while they were together at Madame Campan's school. She didn't see him again until after the Egyptian campaign, but their courtship seems to have taken off once he was back in Paris. Caroline became bent on marrying him, and Napoleon was opposed to it, only reluctantly signing the marriage contract in January of 1800 and then spitefully not attending the wedding. Apparently it was Josephine who persuaded Napoleon to let the two marry, hoping to finally secure an ally among the Bonaparte siblings. She developed a sort of motherly affection for Caroline early on, but Caroline eventually ended up--whether due to the influence of Joseph and Lucien Bonaparte, or her jealousy of Hortense--firmly in the anti-Beauharnais camp, and Murat and Josephine, who had initially had a good relationship, also became enemies over the next few years.

The early years of their marriage were, from all indications, happy. They had four children in fairly quick succession. They were a very affectionate couple--often publicly so, to the point where a disturbed Madame Campan finally asked Hortense to urge Caroline to show some restraint.

They endured a long period of separation very early in their marriage--the first of many, adding up to several total years spent apart between 1800 and their final parting in May of 1815. Murat was sent to take command of a force in Italy in November 1800 while Caroline was pregnant with their first child; they did not see each other again until May of the following year. There are a couple of letters within Murat's published correspondence that hint that, though he at first attempted to remain faithful to his wife during this interim, he may have given up on the endeavor prior to their reunion. The diplomat Charles Alquier, who befriended Murat in Italy, wrote to him in April 1801, lamenting not being able to spend a few days with him in Florence, teasing that he "would like to witness your gallant successes there and hear you talk about your marital fidelity, without believing it in the slightest." The following month, after the arrival of Caroline, Alquier teases Murat again along these lines, in a postscript that reads "It was about time that Madame Murat arrived in Florence, or your hard-pressed fidelity was about to escape you." He had almost certainly resumed his affair with Madame Ruga during this period.

After the birth of their fourth child, Louise, in March of 1805, Caroline was not pregnant again until 1810 (she would end up miscarrying while Joachim was waging his Sicilian campaign). This has led some historians to conclude that there was a "physical separation" between them, a rift of some sort in their relationship. This may have been the case, but I haven't found much evidence on it either way. There is very little remaining correspondence between the two during this period. Murat was away for long periods due to multiple wars, plus the time he spent in Spain in 1808 prior to taking the throne of Naples that year. Neither of them were faithful to the other. Murat, who was in his early thirties and quite set in his womanizing ways when he married Caroline, doesn't seem to have been either capable of, or interested in, monogamous relations, and at some point this seems to have taken enough of a toll on Caroline that she apparently decided to follow suit. Hortense records an encounter with Caroline from the mid-1800s where Caroline's "sole topic of conversation was the joy of loving and being loved. Her affection for her husband, which once had been so violent, seemed to have diminished. She was now attracted by the charms of a pure liaison."

Over the years Caroline allegedly had affairs with Charles de Flahaut (who was also Hortense's lover), Junot, and Metternich. One of her biographers has theorized that Caroline carried out each of these affairs for the primary purpose of future political leverage (Junot, for instance, was the Governor of Paris at the time). Another theory I've encountered is that she picked these men as a sort of game of one-upsmanship over her female rivals--to show Hortense that she could take Flahaut from her; to show Laure Junot that she could have her husband or her later lover Metternich if she wanted, etc. I... don't really have an opinion on this one way or the other. Caroline was definitely ambitious, and also capable of petty jealousies. What affairs she had (or allegedly had), were of short duration and so far I've come across nothing to convince me that she ever actually fell in love with anyone other than Murat.

Out of the two of them, you may as well flip a coin as to which one was more ambitious. I think, in the end, Joachim managed to overtake Caroline in that department, when he got it into his head to try to become the king of a united Italy while Caroline just wanted to preserve their throne in Naples after Napoleon left Elba. But early in their relationship, Caroline seems to have been the one most obsessed with titles--throwing a fit until Napoleon conceded in granting her and Elisa the title of "Princess". Once Caroline was a princess, she wanted to be a queen, especially after her friend/rival Hortense became the queen of Holland via being married to her brother Louis. Joachim and Caroline were essential to each others' elevation, and they both recognized this; and this recognition, along with their devotion to their children, were the two things that kept them united even when they were temporarily at odds with each other. Once he had obtained the title of "prince" by virtue of being Caroline's husband, Murat became as obsessed as Caroline with the idea of having a throne. Napoleon himself later blamed Caroline for putting grandiose ideas into Murat's head, which then, in his words, "hatched chimeras." He also took it for granted that it had been Caroline who had pushed Murat into defecting from Napoleon and signing the treaty with Austria in 1814, and remarked that Caroline had tremendous influence over her husband.

The irony of Joachim and Caroline Murat achieving the height of their ambition by being given the throne of Naples, is that their reign was probably the worst thing to ever happen to either of them. It wreaked havoc on their marriage for years. It was easily the most miserable period of Murat's life.

For starters, Napoleon essentially poisoned the well, so to speak, by making it clear in the Treaty of Bayonne that Murat was only king by virtue of being married to Caroline, language which Murat found deeply humiliating. The humiliation was further compounded by Caroline being named his direct heir, rather than their son Achille, in order that the throne stay within the Bonaparte family.

So Murat started his reign with a certain amount of resentment and jealousy--and a fear that Caroline would attempt to edge him out of power and dominate him the way that her sisters dominated their husbands, a prospect which was intolerably degrading to a man of Murat's pride. There's no real indication that this was ever Caroline's intention--but Murat was prone to paranoia, worried for years about being superseded by his wife, especially as he increasingly fell out of favor with Napoleon, and Caroline (and her faction at court) steadily gained influence. The first couple years of the reign saw Joachim doing everything he could to keep Caroline on the margins of power. She spent much of her time reading, writing letters, and visiting the ruins of Pompeii.

There was a reconciliation (for a time) between the two in 1810, while they were in Paris together for Napoleon's second wedding. After the wedding, when Murat returned to Naples and began preparing for his Sicilian expedition, Caroline remained in Paris for several more months, during which she served as a sort of intermediary between her husband and Napoleon during a time when the two were at odds and Joachim and Caroline were worried about losing their throne. Her letters to Murat during this time are full of tenderness, consolation, and advice. Examples:

"My dearest, this last separation seems to me even more insupportable than the others. You were so good, so perfect to me in those last moments, that your kindness brought me to tears and still fills me with affection. I confess that when you do justice to my true feelings for you, I am the happiest of women." (11 May 1810)

"You will see one day: we shall be the happiest creatures in the world, and we shall owe it to our children. They will give us back all the love we have for them, and our old age will be adorned with their virtues. See as I do--far into the future." (13 May 1810)

"I'm always anxious about your expedition... Do not expose yourself more than the duty of a general requires, I ask you in grace, imagine that your existence belongs to me and is a possession you cannot dispose of." (16 June 1810)

"We can be happy, but in order for that, we need to be content with what we have, you must calm a little your head, which gets hot so easily, and await, with more patience than you've had until now, the moment where we will be more tranquil and more independent. The happiness of our interior will compensate us for our many pains, and you will find with me, with our children, and from all those who sincerely love us, enjoyments worth all the others." (5 August 1810)

Their relationship was fractured all over again before the year's end. Murat's aggravation with his Sicilian campaign boiled over in a scathing letter to Caroline in which he accused her of being disloyal to him; she received it two days after her miscarriage in September, further adding to her heartbreak. It wasn't a permanent rupture by any means, but it was a deep wound in their relationship that took time to heal. The following year, Murat received reports (almost certainly false) about Caroline having an affair with Daure, Joachim's Minister of the Police, who Joachim soon removed from office, writing to Napoleon that Daure had "aimed at forming a party against me. He did not hesitate to attack me in my tenderest affections," but that "his efforts in that respect were far from obtaining the success that he dared hope for." Murat's relationship with Napoleon likewise grew even worse in 1811, and Caroline went once more to Paris to serve as a go-between/peacemaker.

Leaving for the Russian campaign of 1812, Murat had no choice but to leave Caroline as regent, and he spent most of the campaign worrying about what was happening in Naples in his absence. But she proved a capable ruler, and ruled as regent again during the 1813 campaign, and then again in 1815 during his failed campaign against the Austrians. Joachim seems to have gradually gotten over his fear from early in their reign about Caroline trying to edge him out or dominate him, after she had ample opportunities to do so when he was out of favor with Napoleon throughout 1811 but never did; the latter years of their reign indicate something of a happy equilibrium, and Murat was not above consulting Caroline for her views on complicated issues.

Joachim accompanied her to the ruins of Pompeii on a number of occasions. They both shared a love of art, and patronized a number of artists, including Canova, Ingres, and Antoine-Jean Gros. They danced together regularly at court balls, and went to the theatre often. But above all they preferred spending time together with their children, and their favorite place for this was the terrace of the Palazzo Reale, their personal sanctuary, off-limits to all but the royal family and invited guests, where they would often dine and walk in the gardens (and under the shade of the lemon trees Joachim had had planted for Caroline).

To sum it up, their relationship was extraordinarily complex and they weathered some serious storms which would've broken most relationships beyond repair. The more I read about them, the more I'm impressed by the resilience of their relationship and their determination to keep mending it and making it work, rather than just giving up on it and going the way of Caroline's sister Pauline and her husband Camillo Borghese, who lived mostly separate lives and had minimal interaction. But the Murats had been a love match, and neither of them ever seemed to reach the point of wanting to give up on their relationship entirely. Their relationship--like Caroline herself--has been maligned and badly misinterpreted by earlier historians leaning too heavily on hostile memoirs, and also by those who have been intent on salvaging Murat's reputation by putting all of the blame for his mistakes on Caroline's shoulders.

Thanks for the ask! And sorry if I rambled on too much.

#asks #Joachim Murat #Caroline Murat #Caroline Bonaparte #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte

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mamourland · 4 years

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Kissing Prompts Ficlet

Hello everyone!

Yesterday, I saw someone post a list of kissing prompts and asking if someone could write Miggy fics about them.

Well I decided to try and write one for starters and maybe some more if inspiration strucks. It’s a small one, less than 500 words but I couldn’t get it out of my head so I thought I’d share.

Let me know what you think.

Here is the list of the prompts if you want to check them out.

https://kashimalin-fanfiction.tumblr.com/post/178524845380/50-types-of-kisses-writing-prompts

The setting is episode 1x19 when they are stranded on the atoll after Robin’s boat has been stolen.

Prompt 43 – A kiss pressed to the top of the head.

Magnum panted after his fight with the deadbeat fisherman that stole their boat and dragged them into this mess to begin with.

Higgins had saved the day by unexpectedly appearing and knocking the bad guy down with a paddle while he had been struggling with Magnum for the gun he was holding.

After everything they went through today - Juliet being shot, him jumping into the ocean to save her, the at least 8-mile swim to find dry land, Higgins almost drowning then revived when he gave her CPR and finally confronting the evil pirates – he was ready to crash. All he wanted now, was to go home, bring back Juliet no more banged up than she already was and sleep for a day.

Unfortunately, their new boat suffered from a mishap and was now sinking. Usually, Thomas was a pretty optimistic guy, but right now he didn’t know how they would work this one out.

Besides him, Higgins was back to being a shivering mess and it looked like she wouldn’t receive medical attention right away which was worrying Magnum.

Just then, he heard someone, strangely sounding like Rick, yell in a boat speaker.

He looked up, and sure enough, he saw the T.R. Belle a few miles away, heading their way. He had never been so happy to see his friends. They would come home and Higgins would be alright. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder as much as he could while remaining next to her and pulled her to his naked stomach in an awkward side hug.

She felt cold under his touch so he wrapped his arms more tightly around her, mindful of her injury, hoping he could transfer some of his body heat. He couldn’t believe he almost lost her today. Without thinking, he leaned his head to hers and brushed a kiss to her wet hair.

He felt her muscles tense slightly before relaxing. He knew they weren’t used to physical contact between them but it was his way of reassuring himself so she would have to deal with it.

Just when he thought about disentangling himself from her, he heard soft sniffles coming from her. He couldn’t see her face from his position but he was positive she was crying. His heart broke a little for her. She had quite a rough day and even now, she thought she had to hide her vulnerability.

He pulled her into a standing position so he could give her a proper hug and comfort her before Rick and TC arrived. He knew she would feel self-conscious with the guys around.

He swayed them gently and kissed her temple, his arms anchoring her to him.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’ve got you, Higgy.”

He smiled when he felt her arms encircle his waist as she returned his hug. She would be okay; he would make sure of that.

#magnum PI #magnum fic #fic prompts #miggy #miggy fic #Thomas Magnum #juliet higgins #magnum x higgins #drabble

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forged-through-trials · 3 years

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I had a package to deliver back in Skingrad, so I paid it one last visit before continuing further East. On the way back, guess who we ran into? M’aiq The Liar: “M’aiq wishes he had a stick made out of fishies to give to you. Sadly, he does not.” Trials: Realization dawned. “Like, I see what you’re saying. The ‘fishy-sticks’ are symbolic of the violence inherent in the system. It grinds down the worker just like the meat of delicious fish is ground down into an inedible stick.” M’aiq The Liar: “...” Trials: “And like a school of fishes rising from the deeps, we need to unite and rise up against the ruling class! Before they crush us into indigestible bricks of processed foodstuffs.” M’aiq The Liar: He was visibly confused. “...lady, I’m just a meme-guy!” Trials: “No, no, you’re right, it’s time for the revolution to begin! We’ll cast down the false-leaders of the empire, as I certainly didn’t vote for them! Dismantle White Gold Tower brick by brick! And when they asked who inspired this uprising, I’ll be sure to tell them it was ‘M’aiq The Liar’.” M’aiq The Liar: “Please don--” Trials: “And when they cut your head off and put your it on a pike, I will be there to salute you, sir, for your sacrif--” I look up to realize I’m speaking to a vaguely M’aiq-shaped dust cloud, as the real M’aiq had already raced down the road. Trials: “...huh. Poor guy. Couldn’t handle the burden of leading the revolution.” [ M’aiq Count: 6 ]

After a while of hiking, we spotted the dig-site in the distance. A few tents, surrounded by trees, on a small island just inside of the river that feeds Niben Bay. Ruin and I drew in closer, and inspected the site. Up close the place was a marvel to behold; the huge trilobite fossil in particular was quite eye-catching. Surely it’s... thousands of years old? Uh, how old is our world? Like, I don’t have the most extensive history background, but the First era was only about three-thousand years long, and the Second Era was only about nine-hundred, and now we’re in the Third Era, and we’re only up to the year 433... I don’t know for sure how long the Dawn and Merithic Eras were, but if the pattern holds true, they were only a few thousand years long at most. Is that even enough time for something to turn into a fossil? Besides the huge “fossil”, the other sight of note was this... cocoon in a tent, dripping some very pungent slime. The smell was enough to make one gag, and I really wondered how the Archie-Guild assistants could stand to be around it. Whatever this stuff is, the guildies seemed to be collecting it. I wonder whatever for? Well, now that we’re here, step one was to speak to the Assistants and see what they had to say.

Assistant Azim: “Don’t you just love field work? The fresh open air... the camping under the starry sky...?” Trials: “The burning smell of whatever that slime is corroding your nose.” Assistant Azim: “Now if you ask me, there’re two reasons why Tumyr is out in the sticks--” Trials: “Is one of them; ‘He’s ducking Teav’s flirtatious advances’?” Assistant Azim: “...okay, three reasons. “But also, because he is a congenital practical joker. One who happens to like pranking his boss, Rythor. Tumyr’s got something against stuffy desk-work, so he used a soul gem on Rythor’s library, which somehow got them to talk in their authors’ voices. He claimed that he’d intended to use it as a tool so that they could provide a sort of commentary to the texts, but what they actually did was to moan constantly about anything that had bothered them in life. Bad backs, pet hates, personal insults, anything.” Trials: “Huh. I wonder what would happen if someone used a soul gem on my Tumble-Scroll?” Assistant Azim: “I think it would start complaining about the glacial pace you’ve been posting at, lately.” Trials: I pouted. “Hey, I get busy sometimes!” Assistant Azim: “And the other reason is that Tumyr is a Khajiit, and he just loves big, green open space.” Trials: I frowned at him. “Hey, that sounds like Profiling. Would you just go and assume that because I’m Argonian I like walking in the rain?” Ruin: “...Trials, you do like walking the rain.” Trials: “...okay, but he shouldn’t go assuming it! “But, hey, you seem to know all the gossip, so what’s the story with your founder, Solan? You all seem to speak about him with such reverence, but I haven’t heard much in the way of details.” Assistant Azim: “You want me to tell you about Solan? Okay, but I don’t know any more than the rest of us about our great founder and pioneer. “Solan originally came from Hammerfell, where his family had been embroiled in the war of Betonys--” Trials: “Zzzzzz...!” Muttering in my sleep. “M-metal gear... grumble-grunt...” Ruin: “Uh, try to go easy on the politics. It puts her to sleep.” Assistant Azim: “...” He sighed slapped me to wake me up. Trials: My face still stinging. “L-Liquid!” Assistant Azim: He rolled his eyes before continuing. “Solan regards people as the keepers of sacred knowledge, and felt that everyone held some special part of Tamriels history in their souls. Trials: “I think my soul holds all of Cyrodiil’s memes!” Assistant Azim: “As such, he was a fanatical humanist, whose sense of charity and reverence of the people earned him the nickname of ‘Solan the Baptist’.” Trials: “...what the heck is a ‘baptist’?” Assistant Azim: “They dunk your head under water while saying prayers and blessings to the divines.” Trials: “I see! Well, next time I’ll be sure to threaten to ‘baptize’ Sova when she gets sassy.” Assistant Azim: “I don’t think she would appreciate that.” Trials: “I’ll just throw in some ancient Alyeid gods and she could call it ‘research’.”

The other assistant on duty here was “Assistant Quovi.” I spoke to her next, as she dusted grit and minerals off of the trilobite fossil. She didn’t have much to say, save to gossip about her superiors at the Archeology Guild. Did you know that Aster Cei is married to a Khajiit? Not one of the Southern city-dwellers, either, but a well-connected and hot-tempered lass from one of the nomadic tribes. Sova, meanwhile, was Born with a Silver Spoon in her mouth, as her snooty attitude might have suggested. Hailing from Skywatch in the Summnerset isles, she enraptured the court there from an early age. She saw the digs over here in Cyrodiil as beneath her, and took time to adjust to it. And she’s not too keen on Nords, Orcs, or... hired goons. Trials: “Hired Goons?” Assistant Quovi: “Don’t pay her too much mind. I hear that Rythor actually prefers the personal touch you only get with Hired Goons.” “Anyway, Sova’s not so bad. Once you get used to bowing to her every morning.”

Finally it was time to enter the big tent, and speak to the Khajiit himself. Gotta say, for someone who loves the great outdoors, his tent sure has a lot of hard-to-transport amenities. I understand that books on paleontology might be important for his work, but the mental image of him carefully arranging his bookshelf every time they make a new camp amused me. Tumyr: “Hello? And who might you be?” Trials: “Hey, I’m ‘Forged-Through-Trials,’ and he’s ‘Ruined-Tail.’ We’re new hires.” Ruin: “A pleasure.” Tumyr: “Really? So nice to meet you. I’m ‘Tumry,’ resident paleontologist.” Trials: “Anyway, we swung by because Teav needs a vial of your famous Dissolving Agent.” Tumyr: “Ah, poor timing, I’m afraid. I’ve run dry of the stuff, for the moment. Used it all to dig out that Ampryx out there.” Trials: “Oh, you mean, the trilobite?” Tumyr: “Yes. It’s a new species I just discovered, so I get to name it. I’ve dubbed it ‘Ampyx Adapsys’.” Trials: “Fascinating stuff, really, but--” Tumyr: “Slithering along the coastline, filter feeding on sand, their chitin exoskeleton and long spines helped protect them from ambush predators.” Trials: I rolled my eyes. “Listen, Tumyr The Science-Guy, we’re here about the Dissolving Agent. If you’re all out, where or when can we get more?” Tumyr: “Oh, making more? That’s easily done, so long as you’ve got the sliiiiiiiime.” Trials: I made a face at him. “Eww, I don’t like how you said ‘slime’. You make it sound vaguely carnal.” Ruin: He visibly paled. “...well, there’s a mental imagine I’m going to be trying to flush for the rest of the day.” Trials: “You and me both, bruh.” Tumyr: He pouted. “I’m just talking about the stuff that leaks from the cocoon I have outside. It’s the active ingredient in my Dissolving Agent. You just mix it with five Green Stain Cup Caps and you have one vial of the agent.” Trials: “...what a coincidence! I happen have five Green Stain Cup Caps right here.” I passed him the Cup Caps. “It’s almost like... there is someone outside of the Aubris who has experienced all of this before and is guiding my actions, or something.”

Tumyr: He blinked in confusion. “...what... is she looking at?” Ruin: He simply shrugged. Tumry: “...” He shook his head, and passed the finished Dissolving Agent to Ruin. “I think I’d better trust this to you.”

Fast forward past a short hike back toward the Archie-Guild castle, and Ruin and I were back and speaking to Teav. Ruin passed him the Dissolving Agent, which delighted Teav, who assured us that after some careful preparation, he could begin to carefully remove the contamination and corrosion obscuring the Metallic Shard’s Inner Matrix to further study the artifact. Teav: “I’ve also got some good news for you. Rythor, our Headmaster, has returned from his expedition. I’ve already put in a good word for you.” Trials: “Aww, thanks! I appreciate your doing that for me.” Teav: “You deserve it. Weird as you are sometimes, you do get the job done. Rythor has told me he’d like to meet you in person. You can find him in the Library.”

A hop, skip and jump later, and we’d found the Library. As you might imagine for the library owned by a bunch of nerds, the place was huge, and filled wall to wall with books... and a giant dragon skull. Gotta say, it’s an effective conversation-starter. Which, given the story Assistant Azim told me about Tumyr’s prank, getting a conversation started isn’t the problem. It’s getting the books to shut up! Book Written by Pelagius III: “And I’ll go into people’s houses at night and wreck up the place!” Dragon Skull: “Well, he’s lost my vote.” Rythor: Obviously irate. “Shut up, both of you! I’m going to kill Tumyr the next time I see him.” He finally noticed Ruin and I, and offered a wave, his demeanor changing immediately. “Greetings. You must be the new recruit I’ve heard so much about.” Trials: “IDidn’tDoEet! Except for the cool stuff. That I did the hell out of!” Rhythor: “...” He straightened his robes anxiously. “Well, I’ve mostly heard only the cool stuff. “I’m ‘Kal Rythor,’ Archeology Guild Headmaster. Teav tells me you’ve done a fine job clearing out that Spire. Given the decent job you did there, and our clear, dire need for some muscle, I’m making you the guild’s official ‘Enforcer.’ You’re now a permanent member, responsible for clearing any hurdles we may run into.” Trials: “Huh. ‘Enforcer’? Makes me sound like a bouncers, or like one of those Made Mer from the Camonna Tong. You’re not gonna send me to go make offers people can’t refuse, are ya?” Rythor: “...” He smiled knowingly. “Funny you should mention that...” Ruin: He frowned thoughtfully. “Oh, here we go.” Rythor: “On the expedition I just returned from, we’d found another Spire, similar to the one you just cleared. There’s more than just one!” Trials: “Well, need me to go in and clear that one out, too?” Rythor: “Not unless you’re into lawn-care. The problem there isn’t monsters, it’s that it’s overgrown with nearly impenetrable vines. There is, however, a nearby mine that burrows deep into the same mountain. “This is where you come in. I need you to speak with the Mine Foreman down there, help him see the virtue of our cause, and convince him to dig a tunnel into the Antechamber.” Trials: “...I feel like cutting through vines would be a lot easier than tunneling through solid rock.” Rythor: “You’d think that, but Cyrodiilic vines are so tough it takes a literal act of god to move them. “Now, go convince those minders to dig that tunnel for us.” Trials: “And what if they refuse?” Rythor: “Then convince your fist to make friends with their noses until they agree.” Trials: Flabbergasted. “...wow! Is that really necessary? I mean, they’re not Sova.” Rythor: “If it comes to it. Meanwhile, I’m going to lead an excavation effort at the Spire you’ve just cleared. “Godspeed, my Enforcer.”

#the elder scrolls #oblivion #modded #let's play #roleplay #ask blog

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queenlists · 4 years

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hell’s heir

A/N: My laptop busted as soon as I made a post which is why I’ve been pretty inactive, but we are back and better than ever at 124. Thank you to everyone for the support and patience. I really appreciate it! If you have any requests, shoot them my way. I really hope this doesn’t happen ever again haha! I really hope you enjoy this fic that should’ve been up in February. Masterlist is at the bottom like always. Enjoy! ✌

Post Date: 03/16/2020

“I want you to stay!” Dean yelled from directly behind me, slamming the door shut with one hand before I could leave. Dean was so close that I could smell the beer spill into the air as he heaved. His body warm against mine. His heart thudding quickly. Tightening my hand around the suitcase handle, I sniffed up the tears that were threatening to fall. “Stay with us please, (Y/n). Just stay,” Dean whimpered. I shook my head before reaching for the doorknob. Dean grabbed my hand and twirled me around to face him, red in the face with tears in his eyes. “Why? Why can’t you wait until we’re back home again? I promise this is the last time!” Dean cried out, holding onto my hand tighter with every word. I tore my hand away from him “You both always say it’s the last hunt! You always say one more time. One more case. One more. It’s always one more, Dean! You both always say you hate the hunting life. I want better for us. All three of us! I’m giving you two an out, why can’t you take that?” “I promise you when we come back, it’s done. We’re done with this life and we can all live our apple pie life. Just this last time, okay? It’ll be a three-day case. Three days, I promise!” Sam promised, reaching out for my suitcase. “Sammy and I have all of the information already and we have leads. In and out then done! Please give us this last case,” Dean pleaded, tears escaping his eyes and falling down his face. Looking at the two clearly heartbroken boys, I sighed letting my tears flow down “Okay, one last case!” I hissed at the boys before pulling them both in for a hug.

“One last time!” Dean and Sam yelled back at me with a smile on their faces from Baby. I blew the brothers a kiss before waving Dean and Sam goodbye until Baby disappeared into the open road. “One last time, Winchesters,” I smiled to myself before going back inside.

“Pick up! How do three days turn into three weeks?” I screamed into the phone before hanging up to call right back for the tenth time. I called and called, screaming into the receiver each time until Dean and Sam’s voicemails were both full. This was not like them. I felt myself begin to break down as I lost my mind, thinking of the absolute worst situations. “Hello, darling!” I rolled my eyes as I heard the familiar voice. “What did you do to them, Crowley? If you or any of your little minions hurt them, I swear I will have to kill you all! ” my voice cracked as I felt my throat tighten. “Oh, come on now. That’s no way to speak to your father!” Crowley chuckled.

-----------

Crowley led me to where the boys were being kept. The demons staring at me, their eyes black as I passed them. I knew each and every one of them. I knew they were all disappointed in me for choosing the Winchesters over my father. Over them. Over my family, but I did what I had to do. What my heart told me to do.

"(Y/n)? Why are you summoning me? Any luck with those Winchesters?" My back turned to the demon, I hung my head low as tears fell down my face "Asher, tell my father that I'm not coming home. Tell him I'm not hurting those boys. Tell him I'm done!" With a wave of the hand, the demon was gone. My heart ached as I thought about my father’s reaction, regret seeping into my soul. My dad had always been there for me, but love always wins.

“I’m not like you,” I declared, refusing to look at my father. “Oh, really?” Crowley snickered. “I changed,” I sighed “They’re my friends,” I bit my lip as I felt tears prick my eyes. Even though his ways disgusted me, I love him. He’s my father after all. “I know, sweetheart. I figured you made friends when you turned your tracker off. May I say that I was not all that surprised when you sent that little message home to me. It wasn’t the fact that my child left the nest unexpectedly that hurt, but the betrayal hurt. You know just like I do that I could never hurt you, so you’re just going to have to hurt yourself.” I looked up at Crowley, knitting my eyebrows together with wonder as he led me into a dark, cold room. I could hear chains rattling as I heard muffled voices. Suddenly, the bright fluorescent lights hummed to life revealing Dean and Sam tied up with rope and duct tape covering their mouths. Dean and Sam both wiggled around, their voices getting louder as they realized it was me. Smiling, I began to run to them only to be grabbed by Crowley. The boys started to yell and rock themselves, trying to get loose. Their faces going red and the veins in their bodies pronouncing themselves. “Oh shut up! (Y/n) is fine,” Crowley yelled, sighing to himself. “They never shut up! They never stop fighting me! I’ve had them here for weeks and they still won’t stop. How do you deal with them? Especially that Dean!” Crowley spat, looking at Dean with disapproval in his eyes. “I don’t tie them up for starters,” I rolled my eyes at Crowley, shoving him away from me before running to the boys. I quickly took off the duct tape from their mouths but left them tied up, in fear of what they may do to me when they find out the truth.

“I was worried about you two! I left so many messages,” I smiled as the two brothers looked at each other without saying a word. My smile slowly faded away as they remained silent and simultaneously looked at me. “How did you know where we were?” Dean sniffled, looking down “Why are you so comfortable with Crowley and being in a warehouse full of demons?” I stared at Dean with my mouth wide open, not knowing what to say. Gulping, I looked to Sam who was clenching his jaw staring at me, his eyes filled to the brim with hurt. I tore my eyes from Sam’s to Crowley’s who was standing there with his arms crossed and a satisfied grin spread across his face as he watched his plan to destroy me unfold. I looked back to the boys who were both staring at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong and you’re not one of them!” Sam cried out, sniffling. “Sam, I’m not like them!” I began to walk closer to Sam but stumbled back when Dean began to growl, rocking and wiggling himself. “Stay away from my brother!” Dean snapped at me, his face red and his eyes black with anger. “All this time? All this time, you lied to us? Pretending that you found us by chance? Pretending that you were lost and hurt?” Sam shook his head, tears sliding down his face. “No! It’s not like that.” I cried out as I tried to walk closer to them in hopes of calming them down, but was stopped by Crowley. “You’re just like them, aren’t you? We trusted you! We brought you back to the bunker, thinking we saved you. Little did we know, we fell for your trap,” Dean screamed at me. Sobbing, I sucked in air as I felt myself beginning to hyperventilate “N-no, it’s not like that!” Crowley pulled me into his chest as he stroked my hair and back. Closing my eyes, I cried into my father’s chest holding onto him for dear life.

Smirking as I saw the boys leave their hotel room and pack their bags into their car, I could not believe how easy these boys could be found. Cracking my knuckles and neck, I shook out all of my energy as I prepared to do my helpless damsel in distress skit. No one turns down a weeping defenseless person, now do they? "I need help!" I gasped out breathlessly, limping to the boys before holding onto Sam's arm tightly. "Hey! Are you okay?" Sam held me up as I went limp in his arms. Dean's eyes darted around, his face riddled with worry as he prepared to fight. "Let's take them to the bunker. They're out cold," Sam hoisted me onto his shoulder as he carried me to the car. Keeping my eyes closed, I heard the brothers going back and forth trying to figure out what they should do. "Make sure they're human, Sammy!" Before Sam could move, I jolted up coughing and shaking violently "W-where am I? Who are you?!" I yelled, looking wildly between Dean and Sam. "We're taking you to a safe place, okay? Just relax!" Dean looked back at me from the driver's seat, giving me a small sincere smile. Sitting back, I caught my breath and calmed myself down as I watched Sam put the test supplies away. I coughed back a laugh “Stupid boys” I muttered to myself, examining my freshly manicured nails.

“You weren’t sobbing when you were setting us up, were you?” Dean scoffed. “Enough!” Crowley’s voice boomed through the room “Do not yell at my child!” Everything went silent. The world seemed to stop. My heart dropped as I heard a nearly silent “Child?” come from Sam and a loud "Son of a bitch!" come from Dean. “This isn’t nearly as fun as I thought it’d be,” Crowley mumbled, holding me tighter. “Why dad? Why’d you have to do this?” I sniffled, feeling defeated as the tears kept flowing and my heart broke into even smaller pieces. “I wanted you home. The Winchesters can’t protect you. Not like I can,” Crowley’s voice cracked a little before he cleared his throat. I stayed silent, listening to my father choke on his words for the first time. “They fed me, clothed me, and provided me with everything I needed and wanted without a second thought. They never asked for anything in return. They offered me the world with a smile. I tried, daddy, I did. I really did. I tried to kill them, but I just...I just couldn't,"

This week was fun, but I had to complete this mission. I was always done within twenty four hours, but the Winchesters weren’t the monsters they were painted out to be. Yes, they killed a lot of my friends but they were gentle behind the scenes. I could just call my dad over. I could just put my tracker back on, but the only right way to do this is to do it myself. If anyone was going to kill them, it was going to be me. Quick and as painless as possible. Wrapping my fingers around the gun with a finger on the trigger, I aimed at the sleeping boys. My heart thudding in my chest as my brain screamed for me to stop. Waves of remorse and sadness crashed over me as my hands began to shake. At that moment, I couldn’t imagine my life without them. At that moment, I couldn’t see myself living past this point if I were to kill them. At that moment, I realized I felt love and nothing but love for them. Dropping my arm, I let out a gasp of air that I didn’t even know I was holding. Tears clouded my vision as I looked up once again at the two sleeping boys who took me in, took care of me, and showed me love from the very start. “I can’t do this!” I shook my head, running out of the room.

"Will you give them a chance? If they even forgive me,” I whimpered, looking up at my father’s watery eyes. Crowley nodded, giving me a kiss on the forehead.

Taking a deep breath, I turned from my father to Dean and Sam showing them my demon form. Tears flowing from Sam’s eyes as he shook his head in disbelief. Dean stared at me with cold and disapproving eyes, clenching his jaw. “I’m still me. I didn’t force my way into a meat suit. This is all me! I was sent to kill you both, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Yeah, I lied about being lost and I lied about my backstory. I didn’t lie when I told you both that you were my family. I didn’t lie when I told you both that I love you. I am so sorry for what I’ve done. I know I’ve lost your trust, but I want to show you both that I truly care. I want that normal life with both of you,” I cried, looking at the boys as I continued to explain my point and pour my heart out to them. Sam was nodding as his mouth twitched into a smile. Dean clenched his jaw, staring at me with cold dull eyes. “It’s hard to forgive you when you have us tied up still,” Dean growled, interrupting my repetitive apology. Holding back a sob, I rushed over to both of them and carefully untied them. “Do you forgive me?” I bit my lip as I looked from Sam to Dean and back again. “Of course,” Sam sighed, his eyebrows knitting together as he wrapped me up into a tight bear hug. When Sam finally let me go, I turned to Dean. Dean started walking closer to me with a smirk on his face, his eyes still cold “I was thinking about you this whole time that Sammy and I were tied up here in your daddy’s hideout. I was hoping we supplied enough food for you to last. I was hoping you were safe. I was wondering if you left by now or stayed. I was hurt at the thought of you wondering why Sam and I never came home. Wondering if we had been killed or just abandoned you,” Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head with a smile. I stayed put as Dean made his way closer to me, his words and demeanor seeming off-putting to me. A shiny object catching my eye, my heart dropped as I realized what it was. “Turns out, you were in on this little joke. Sucks that I could never trust or love a demon!” Dean held the blade high as I heard Sam and Crowley simultaneously yell “No!”. I closed my eyes as I waited for what was to come.

------

“It’s beautiful here. There’s a lot of empty space, but I kind of like it. It’s quiet,” I looked around the yard with a big smile on my face. “It’s all ours,” Sam smiled, looking down at me. “This place is awesome! Have you seen the pool? It’s massive. I can’t believe this is ours,” Dean handed Sam a cold beer and me a cold soda. Looking at the boys as they sipped on their beers with joy in their eyes as they scanned the endless yard, I could only feel at peace. This house is a start to new beginnings. Better beginnings. “Remember when you almost killed my child, squirrel?” Crowley chimed in, ruining the blissful moment.

“Dean, no!” I heard Crowley and Sam both yell as my eyes were closed. My heart beating out of my chest. My body and clothes beginning to drench in sweat. Embracing death by my friend's hand. I heard metal drop to the floor along with a body. Slowly opening my eyes, I looked down at a sobbing Dean on his knees. “I can’t hurt you. I could never hurt you,” Dean cried, holding onto my legs and resting his head on me. I took a sharp inhale as I felt my stomach twist from the amount of anxiety and pressure. Crowley grabbed the knife, pocketing it. “I’m so sorry!” Dean sobbed into my legs, his body shaking. I ran my fingers through his hair as I felt myself choke, unable to speak. “I know, Dean. I know. I forgive you!” I held onto Dean as he sobbed, feeling his hot tears drench my pants. “We’re a family. We always will be,” Sam pulled Dean up off of his knees and pulled us both into a bear hug.

“Hard to forget when you mention it at least once a day!” Dean sarcastically chirped before taking a big gulp of his beer as his smile dropped. “Good, burn it into your little brain!” “Go to hell!” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Been there, lived there, and just left!” Crowley growled, gritting his teeth. “This is supposed to be a fresh start,” I groaned, listening to Crowley and Dean go back and forth. “Home sweet home!” Sam laughed, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me close.

"Definitely. Home sweet home!" With a sigh, I smiled as I looked around our yard again.

This place is our new home.

Our home sweet home.

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