#OH MAN AM I READING TOO MUCH INTO THIS but chief...... it's the way she isn't even looking at the camera for me chief.

[muffinlance]

I was wondering... Is there a Salvage headcanon where they did break Zuko's leg? If no one (including you ofc) ever did it, you can treat it as a prompt!!

So many angsty possibilities, and as much as I love and adore the original plot.... man, I'm so curious what would happen.

So what I’m hearing is that you like pain. Who am I to deny you?

(You can also read this on AO3.)

* * *

“Chief?” Aake repeated, kneeling over the still struggling boy. Pinning him down. 

The prince wasn’t even fully lucid, and this was already his second escape attempt. He’d tried to firebend at Hakoda’s crew, with only his own fever to stop him. He was a child, by any reasonable standards; but a soldier, by his own nation’s, with the training to match. He was only going to get more dangerous. If the Fire Nation wanted to set the terms of this war, then be it on Ozai’s head. 

“One,” Hakoda said. One leg had to be enough, to keep the young soldier down.

* * *

When Zuko’s fever broke, he had a black bruise around his wrist the size of a grown man’s hand, and a broken leg the storm hadn’t given him. 

He had to get off this ship.

* * *

The prince knocked out two of Hakoda’s men. Sent another three to Healer Kustaa, with firebending that had thankfully been more concussive than blistering. Oh, and he’d managed to shove one of their tenders overboard. So now they were having to turn around to search for that, in the dark.

He’d half-way gotten himself overboard, too. It was anyone’s guess whether he’d have landed close enough to that boat to make it, with the weight of his cast dragging him down. 

A moot point, as he struggled in Aake’s grip.

“I did say legs,” the man joked, humorlessly.

Hakoda tried to meet the prince’s eyes, but the soldier was too intent on battering himself against Aake’s hold. He met his crewman’s eyes, instead. Nodded.

Aake sighed. “Right. This is happening, kid. Hold still this time if you want it to be clean.”

The prince, eerily, did hold still. He didn’t scream. He hadn’t last time, either.

* * *

(Father hadn’t stopped burning him until he’d stopped screaming.)

* * *

“It’s coca-poppy, Prince Zuko,” Healer Kustaa said, from behind a re-locked door. “It will help with the pain.”

“I know what it is,” the prince shouted. “I don’t want it.”

Across the passageway, behind the door of his own cabin, Hakoda composed another ransom letter. This one ended up crumpled on his floor, too.

How did you tell a father that you’d broken both his boy’s legs? Things would be easier if— 

Well. They still had that interrogation to get through, before he saw whether there’d be an if.

* * *

“She was alive when I last saw her. Your son, too. Sir.”

“...With the Avatar,” Hakoda repeated.

“Yes,” the prince said, staring up at the sickbay ceiling. “...Sir.”

Hakoda rubbed his temples. “I’ll be confirming your story. Until then: ship rules. You already know the price of escape. You have two more limbs, Prince Zuko; take more care with them. Firebend at my men again, or damage my ship, and your chances are done. You’re going to stay in here and obey every order our healer gives you, or I’ll be back in for another talk. Am I clear?”

“Yes. Sir.”

Sweat was beading on the prince’s forehead. His hands kept clenching and unclenching around his blankets. Let him be in pain, if he wanted; Kustaa had already offered him an out.

* * * 

The doctor on Zuko’s ship had started him on coca-poppy before he’d known he was on a ship. Before he remembered what had happened, before his vision was clear enough to read the banishment notice for himself. Uncle had fussed over every little sound he made, and made sure Zuko drank every dose.

It took him a year and a half to get back off it.

* * *

Kustaa had prescribed at least an hour on deck each day. Firebenders and sunlight, or something. The prince sullenly allowed himself to be carried by a crewman and propped up out of the way. 

Panuk watched him watching the waves. He went below deck, and came back with a plate. Set it on the deck between them, and sat himself down next to it.

“Drowning is not a pretty way to go,” he said conversationally, between bites of smoked fish the prince was pointedly not sharing.

“Is being murdered by savages any better?” the prince snapped, finally looking away from the water. 

Panuk chewed. Swallowed. Used his foot to nudge the plate against the prince’s leg. Above the break, obviously.

“Are you going to eat?”

The prince looked… really confused. He looked down at the plate, then back up at Panuk, then around them, like he was looking for a net about to fall.

Which explained why he’d snubbed Toklo yesterday, when their youngest crewman had tried to have lunch with him.

“It’s common to share meals in the Southern Tribes,” Panuk said. “If someone sets a plate down next to you, it’s probably for sharing.”

“...Oh,” said the prince. He picked up a piece. Ate it, slowly, while sneaking glances over at Panuk. Ate the second a lot faster.

“We’d make it quick,” Panuk said. “If your dad doesn’t meet Hakoda’s demands, or if you screw up again. Quicker than the ocean would, at least.”

“...I don’t want the Leg Breaker to do it. Or the Chief.”

“I could volunteer. If it comes to it.”

“...Okay,” the prince said, and ate a third fish. And a fourth. 

“How old are you, anyway?” Panuk asked, eyebrow raised.

Prince Zuko, fearsome prisoner of the Akhlut, was sixteen years old. 

* * *

Prince Zuko, sixteen-year-old prisoner of the Akhlut, was bored.

“What?” he snapped at the healer, who’d stopped to give him that disappointed stare.

“How did you even reach that?” the man asked.

Zuko hunched over his borrowed book, and didn’t answer.

“Ask next time. I’ll help you get them down.”

Then the man went back to doing whatever it was he did in here, with all his powders and ointments. Maybe Zuko would understand, if he read far enough.

“Ask if you have questions, too,” Not-Uncle said.

…So Zuko did.

* * *

General Fong wanted the kid. General Fong wanted a lot of things he couldn’t have.

We have secured his cooperation, Hakoda wrote back. While I thank you for your offer, we do not anticipate the need for army assistance during the negotiation process—

* * * 

Hakoda tried not to go into the healer’s cabin without cause. It was unpleasant, the way the boy spooked every time a crewman stepped in. The way he watched them with those wolf-hawk eyes, coiled like a pit-viper-leopard ready to spring, broken legs or no. But the door was open, and…

“Just pet him. Come on, one itty-bitty little ruffle-wuffle…” Toklo cajoled, pushing a growling isopuppy towards the prince’s face.

“No. He’s going to maul me,” the prince snapped, holding one of Kustaa’s medical texts between them like a shield.

“That was not a mauling,” said Panuk. “That was barely one itty-bitty little blood-draw. Just shove the seal jerky between his teeth when he lunges, then pet him. We’ll train him that you mean food—”

“How is that going to help with the biting?” the prince demanded.

Hakoda backed away before he could be seen. 

…Apparently there were exceptions, in who the prince himself wouldn’t maul. 

* * *

Apparently Hakoda’s dog was now one of those exceptions.

Fire Nation sympathizer.

* * * 

Bato came back.

“So,” his second-in-command said. “Fire Prince in the sickbay, huh?”

Hakoda groaned into his hands.

* * *

“Did you name the dog?” the prince asked Bato. The kid was sitting up in his bed, propped up on pillows, draped in at least three layers of furs and an oversized coat. Which explained where Kustaa’s had gone. He was, inexplicably, holding one of Kustaa’s medicine jars between his hands.

“Interrogating the prisoner already, nephew?” Kustaa asked, setting out the last of his supplies. Then he reached for the bandages. Bato braced himself.

“Did you?” the kid said. And then, after a delay: “You are not my uncle.”

“At least wait for the torture to get started,” Bato said, through gritted teeth, as Kustaa tugged the edge of his bandage loose in what was probably the gentlest way but felt anything but. 

He couldn’t have said if the prince kept pressing the matter, after that. Not until Kustaa was spreading on that miracle salve of his. In its tiny jar. Its tiny, near-empty jar.

“...Are we out of that stuff?” Bato asked, with some trepidation.

“We’re making more,” Kustaa said.

…The jar between the kid’s hands was steaming now. And he was still scowling.

“He volunteered,” the healer added, cleaning up.

Huh.

“I was making fun of Hakoda,” Bato said. “Not his son. Sokka’s a good kid.”

“So name the dog Hakoda,” the Fire Prince said, with a scowling seriousness that made the joke even better. 

* * *

“Good boy, Hakoda. Who’s our Chief Woofer? Is it you? Is it you? Yes it is!”

“I hate you,” Hakoda said. “Go back to the nuns.”

The pupper thumped his tail against the deck, and barked for more jerky. Who was Bato to deny his chief?

* * *

“Wait,” Bato said, stretching his burned arm out slowly, and staring at the newest medicine pot the kid was heating. “Didn’t Hakoda order you not to bend?”

He’d never seen golden eyes that wide, or a pot boil over that fast.

* * *

“So,” Bato said, leaning against Hakoda’s doorway. “You ordered the kid not to firebend, but you also ordered him to follow Kustaa’s orders. Guess what Kustaa’s had him doing?”

“He what,” Hakoda said, standing. He marched across the hall, to where his healer was rubbing some kind of salve on their prisoner’s hands. “You have him firebending?”

Somehow, the kid’s eyes got even wider.

* * *

So. It turned out the prince needed to meditate. Badly.

* * *

The Fire Lord’s first reply arrived. Hakoda took in some meditative breaths of his own, then made sure the isopuppy followed him across to the healer’s cabin. 

“Prince Zuko,” he said. Levelly. Reasonably. After his dog had jumped up into the kid’s arms. “Can you tell me why your father thinks the letter you sent him was a forgery?”

“It wasn’t,” the prince said, like that was the issue.

Hakoda pinched the bridge of his nose. 

* * *

They needed proof of life. Proof they had the kid at all. 

The Fire Lord’s son got a haircut. 

Hakoda would have had Aake do it, but Panuk volunteered. Their second-youngest crewman and the prince had a brief stare off, before the prince lowered his head for the knife. Panuk did it in one slice; handed it off to Hakoda, without looking at him. Then he sat down behind the kid, and tidied up the cut. The prince had already been growing stubble over the rest of his scalp; it was just a matter of evening it out.

Hakoda sent the long phoenix plume with his next reply.

* * * 

The Fire Lord responded with fingers. 

* * *

The kid saved Kustaa’s life. Had the burns to show for it, too. 

* * *

He still expected Hakoda to take his.

Maybe in some other life, Hakoda would have known how to reassure him. In this one, he stepped out of his cabin, and sent in his dog and Kustaa.

* * *

It was… unpleasant, having someone on his ship that was afraid of him. Someone who wasn’t an enemy.

The kid could walk around now, some, with the crutches their ship’s carpenter had made for him. His burns were healing well; Bato had inducted him into the Burned Arm Club, which had an elite membership of two. No, the prince insisted, the time Toklo had accidentally burned himself on a ship’s lamp didn’t count. This, despite his own protests over the club’s very existence. 

He’d started yelling at the crewmen who—quote—wasted medical supplies by doing the same stupid things to themselves again—end quote. 

He didn’t even avoid Aake, though the Leg Breaker name had stuck, and spread amongst the crew.

“I understand the chain of command,” the kid said, stiffly, when Hakoda had asked. 

It had been Aake’s suggestion. But it had been Hakoda’s orders.

Hakoda watched the kid brought to tears over sea prunes. To laughter, when Bato figured out he was ticklish. The kid started warming up the crew’s breakfast in the mornings, because he was up anyway, and because he could. 

He… wasn’t a bad kid. But he’d never be one of Hakoda’s. 

* * *

General How sent a letter. It was significantly more diplomatic than the latest from Fong. 

—a child of such value in an active warzone. Likewise, the prince should be continuing his tutelage in matters of state and such subjects as befit his station and future, and to build in him an appreciation for the support a joint backing by our nations could provide. You would be welcome to send with him a delegation representing Southern Water Tribe interests—

* * *

“You’re selling me to the Earth Kingdom,” the prince said, sitting across from Hakoda at the desk. 

“I’m…” There would be no money exchanged in the transaction. But that didn’t change its nature. “...It’s the best circumstances I can provide for you, Prince Zuko.”

“It’s just Zuko,” the prince said. “I’m banished. And dead. Remember? Sir.”

Hakoda sighed. “Pack your things, Zuko.”

The prince looked at him a moment more, then left. It wasn’t until later that Hakoda realized the boy didn’t have anything to pack. He’d come to him with the clothes on his back, and that was how he’d leave.

* * * 

The Water Tribe delegation consisted of Toklo and Panuk. Kustaa was needed on the ship. 

“Look, they sent a carriage,” Toklo said, leaning over the rail. The General’s men were already waiting for them on the docks. 

“Fancy,” Panuk said.

None of them mentioned the prince’s continued need for crutches, nor the impossibility of him making the trip by ostrich-horse. Hakoda was glad the general had sent a carriage, rather than a wagon. It was a relatively auspicious start.

The boy himself was sitting on a barrel, his crutches propped beside him. The isopup leaned against his legs, three hind pereopods drumming against the deck as he enjoyed a good ear scratching. It was impossible to explain to him that this was the last he’d get from firebender-warm hands. Or that when he scratched at the healer’s cabin tonight, there’d only be an empty bed inside. The boy had slept with Hakoda’s dog more in the past months than Hakoda had during this entire voyage. 

Hakoda cleared his throat. The boy didn’t startle, thankfully. 

“What?” he asked, eyes on the soldiers waiting for him, as their crew tied up to the pier.

“You could… take him with you,” Hakoda said. “The dog. He’s more yours than mine, these days.”

The prince’s breathing hitched. His hand stopped scratching, which led to nuzzling and play-nibbles, before he resumed. 

“I can’t,” he said. “I don’t know if they’ll hurt him.”

Hakoda didn’t make any other offers. 

His crew secured the boarding ramp. 

“It’s your last chance,” Panuk said, giving the boy a nudge. “Go.”

And then the prince was hugging their healer, and if he was crying, that was between him and the man’s shirt. The kid was still wearing Kustaa’s oversized coat. 

“You’re still not my uncle,” he said, into the man’s shoulder.

“You don’t get to choose your uncles, brat,” Kustaa said, hugging his nephew back.

* * *

The isopuppy prowled the ship all night, searching.

* * *

After the war—after the coalition of nations, after that uneasy alliance with the Dragon of the West and the sharp-toothed smiles he had specifically for Hakoda, after the peace talks and the compromises—

After. 

The new Fire Lord had a council with all nations represented. Hakoda sent Bato, and Sokka. Panuk was already there. Toklo had gone home, to a sister that didn’t remember him, but was still young enough to accept him back within the week. 

Katara left for the Fire Nation, too, when news reached them of the Avatar finally being found. She joined the other Southern healer in residence in managing his care. If Kustaa resented a teenager whose qualifications consisted of “magic water” stepping into his domain, Hakoda never heard of it. And he did still hear from the man, in the occasional letter home.

The Avatar, one letter read, was extremely pleased to have graduated to a cane matching his nephew’s. His nephew was less enthused.

* * *

Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe was not invited to the coronation of Fire Lord Zuko.

#Royal Physician Kustaa: *exists* #Fire Lord Zuko: I NEVER HIRED YOU #Royal Physician Kustaa: Iroh did #us uncles have to stick together #Ten Years Later: a very good dog surfaces in Caldera Harbor #capsizing multiple pleasure yachts with his tail wags #deafening the city with his barks #Zuko rushing to a palace window: CHIEF HAKODA <3<3<3 #Iroh and Kustaa: Well that’s the first time he’s been so happy to say THAT name #Salvage #Break-a-Leg Salvage #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #ficlet #Zuko #Hakoda

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Where can i read Both sides now? If i click the link in the old post you reblogged i cannot find the post :(

Alas, stupid deactivated links. Here, I shall post it anew for you 💋

Sweet like Cinnamon

Warnings and Summary: the entire theme of this is loving on Elvis’ chief embarrassment: his uncut cock. So, be warned, ahead lies body consciousness, savoring of foreskins, edging, talking to cocks, Elvis in subspace and bad safe word etiquette 😆 also suspend your belief that he didn’t get past this with multiple women before in the 60’s

Repost of an old fic

“Gentle now, no need to thump it, it ain’t got a spirit you can animate by kickin’ it like that.”

Susie huffs at him and aims another whack at the motorcycle’s exposed engine with her dainty hand, like she can slap it into submission. “Well then you try!” she whines at him and Elvis woulda done so first if she hadn’t beat him to it. After that he’d gotten distracted by watching the way her bottom looked in those jeans while she was bent double.

“I’ll do just that if you’d get up and stop thumpin’ it.”

“I am not ‘thumping it’, Presley, merely cajoling.” she points her little chin in the air haughtily and Elvis is filled with the desire to grab it between his fingers and shake it. She’d wrinkle her nose at that and all the little freckles on it would fold up.

“Mhmm, well, get outta the way Susie, let the ole man have a shot at it.”

“Good luck.” she grins and moves to stand up and he watches a little too long as she hikes her jeans back up so her tied shirt meets the top of them. He mourns the loss of that sliver of skin and bends down to take a look himself, conscious of her eyes on his ass.

They’re fair like that, Susie and him, he doesn’t watch nothin’ on her that he hasn’t let her watch on him. That’s what good buddies do, they don’t begrudge a mate. So he doesn’t begrudge her much when after getting the offending part off he feels the pointed toe of her shoe slide against the seam of his pants. It gets boring stranded on the side of a country road in the middle of the Californian desert, and little girls need their fun.

“Almost done,” he tells her, “this just came loose, s’why it’s rattlin’ like that. Didn’t help that somebody smacked, too.” he looks up at her out of the corner of his eye, making sure to layer on the patronizing airs so that she’ll break and smack him. She does, lightly on his shoulder and he chuckles and ignores the way the gravel digs into his knees and chalks up his slacks.

“We’re going be late.” she observes, and it’s not a whine, it’s just statement.

“Thought your landlady didn’t know we were comin’?” he grunts, working on the obvious problem he can perceive now, scorching his fingers on the hot metal.

“Careful!” she fusses as he hisses from the burn, rising to his feet and brushing off his slacks, readying to try cranking the motor again.

“You know what I meant,” Susie goes on, admiring him as he swings those long legs to straddle the bike, elegantly swathed as they are in pants tailored to the last inch by darling Edith, “This has thrown us off by an hour and knowing you and your propensities when in the company of little old ladies -we’ll be late at the studio. I’m calling it now.”

His face clouds over for a moment as he ponders the prospect of getting chewed out by the director for taking a brief and condoned break. Just to zip over and wish Susie’s landlady a happy birthday. The shriveled little munchkin was starry eyed the one time he swung by to pick Susie up, and with her son overseas it seemed the nice and gentlemanly thing to do, to use the break to brighten her day. The motorbike breaking down on the side of the road wasn’t part of the plan.

“I ain’t turnin’ back now,” he mutters, frowning at the horizon that wavers in the scorching afternoon sun, “They’ll find somethin’ to bitch about anyway, and you needed the break. Say, you alright with that? With playin’ hooky? I’ll tell ‘em it was my idea.”

“Oh hush now, ‘course I don’t mind and I’ll take full responsibility for myself, Presley.”

They both know he’ll get in between her and anyone trying to chew her out but she tries, really tries to take some of the brunt of the condemnation directed at them when they go off the rails together, lost in their own little world. One where midnight dancing, helicopter racing and practical jokes are king.

She cozies up behind him on the narrow seat, her thighs bracketing his famous hips and the bike cranks to life. They make it to Doddi’s birthday party before it’s in full swing. Susie spends the next hour and a half on Elvis’ knee as he chats with her landlady who informs him she had her son, the one overseas, at the ripe age of fifty five.

“Well I’ll be!” he whistles and that starts a very earnest discussion about modern medicine and the wacky new advice to cut back on fats. Doddi is adamantly against it, as is Elvis. Susie gets her opinion asked after awhile and she informs them that whatever they’re both doing now is obviously working for them. That earns her a ticklish kiss on the neck from Elvis and a sage smile from Doddi.

“You know something, Miss Dean,” Doddi addresses Susie, “I have seen you starring in three films alongside this man.”

“Yes ma’am!” Susie nods, they've got dynamite chemistry and Hollywood isn’t one to let a thing rest until it’s dead from overuse. As for Elvis and herself, well, contracts are contracts and just maybe they’d rather kill their careers alongside each other, out of anyone else in the world.

“And in each one,” Doddi goes on, “you begin as an innocent until finally succumbing. It’s a testament to your skill that you can begin again, three times at that, as a virgin with each new start, when you must have been plundered at some point in real life.”

Elvis had said something equally insightful to her ages ago, something about her doe eyes and gentle face making him feel like the first time each time. Each time they do a scene, of course. Because they’re just buddies. No matter if her real first time was with him. And a good costar is meant to make you feel some kind of way so that you can play off it. It’s just good sportsmanship.

Elvis pats her on the back as she chokes on her mimosa, unable to take Doddi’s inquiring gaze for much longer, seems she’s asking as to when Susie herself got plundered and it’s a memory best left buried. Blessedly, Elvis changes the subject with his typical, stuttering charm.

Drifting on a wholesome high, they slip out together, a good three hours and multiple slices of cake later. He’s pensive on the drive back, speed limit actually being observed and Susie lays her cheek on his shoulder to watch the thoughts flit along his nobel profile.

“What’s wrong, Mopey?” she asks him.

“Nothin’, jus thinkin’.”

Gloomy thoughts by the set of his pouty lips. “Well I want some breeze to help with this heat, so gun it, Presley.”

Those lush lips curve up at that, his shoulders shaking out his mood a little as a rivulet of water the folks around here call a creek comes into view. He doesn’t take the bridge over it, he plunges the motorbike down the bank with Susie shrieking out her joy behind him, gripping his belly for dear life as the motor fights to get them back up the opposite side without tipping them backwards.

It’s damn good fun. Pity their director doesn’t agree when they get back wet and a little muddy, hours late. Filming has been canceled for the evening, and choice words are had about tardiness and Susie’s poor delivery of a inane line of script she hates with a passion.

Elvis takes all of this with dogged sullenness, only biting back when Susie’s name gets drug through the mud. She succeeds at hauling him away and up into his suite, badgering him about helping her with the line.

They’ll end up eating too much hotel food and philosophizing on the how each subsequent film they’ve made has diminished in artistic quality. If they really feel brave maybe they’ll end up kissing, just for practice, just because they’re lonely and the other understands. And won’t hold them to it.

This time he disappears into the shower, a quicker one than usual and when he comes out in nothing but a towel, swearing over having forgotten his clothes, he looks like the proverbial stormcloud is hanging over his wet and sleeked back hair. Susie has got burgers and cola at hand on the bed and is ready for the mood to be over. She’s worn out, too.

“What are you so sore about Presley?” she asks, gently because he might as well have a sign hanging around his neck reading: “fragile! handle with care!”

“You wanna know what it is?” He grunts, rubbing at his face, rosy and gleaming from the shower.

“Yes!”

“I’ll tell ya honey, I’ll tell ya. It’s that I had a grand time with you today and yet I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how if we would just stop foolin’ around then-“

“-hey now, it was your idea to fool around!” she protests.

“-I know I know, but as I was sayin’ I was preoccupied with the thought that I just wanted to get the next damned scene over with.”

“The one scheduled for tomorrow now?”

“Yeah that one. Another windshield scene.”

“Another what?”

“Windshield scene, honey.” he insists, a little hurt she didn’t get his meaning right away, it was the thing digging at him for awhile now, making him sore. “You knew how many scenes I’ve done where they’ve got a camera on the hood shootin’ through the windshield, while I’m sitting in the driver’s seat pretendin’ to drive while a screen flashes scenery behind me, and I sing a song that sounds a lot like the ones I’ve sang doing the same damn thing in the same damn movie before it? And I’m talkin’ just movies since I been back stateside.”

“Quite a few I gather.” Susie’s mouth sours in sympathy. “So, New Years resolution, no more windshield scenes.”

“Add jet-skies to that list.” he flops back on the bed and blows out a breath, making his lips flap with all the dignity of a five year old.

Susie has long since learned to humor him when he’s in this sort of mood and she contents herself with leaning against the wall and watching the long line of his body, bronze and sturdy and interrupted only by the stark white towel around his waist. He manspreads even in a towel and she is tempted to take a peak. She’d probably get spanked for it and tonight she’s unsure it would be a jovial slapping around, he’s testy and nearly looking for an excuse to blow up. Or pout face first into his pillow until he gets hungry -he’s shockingly petulant for a man dually capable of the occasional bout of astounding maturity.

“Eat your burger.” she nudges his bare foot and the feel of her shoe against his skin gets him to raise his head and give her a once over.

“Get comfy honey, you don’t need to be all in your heels and such.”

“Well, i wasn’t sure you really felt like having me stay.”

“Don’t be silly, lil girl.” he rolls his eyes, and sits up, abs rippling and scrunching as he hunches into himself and starts gnawing down on the burger. “This ain’t cooked enough.”

“You weren’t cooked long enough.” Susie tosses back and takes a seat next to him on the foot of the immaculately made bed, kicking her shoes off, and she doesn’t miss the way a pleased smile creeps over his face. He puts the burger up to her mouth and looks so expectant that she takes a bite and lets the mustard and onions and beef ruin the spearmint aftertaste of her gum. “It’s cooked perfectly.” she admonishes him and he sneers at her though his eyes twinkle. “Alright mopey! Nothing else for it, I’m putting on a record.”

Susie abandons him and he watches as she bounces up and across his sterile hotel room to the one comfort he hauled with him, the record player and its case of records. She flips through it until she pulls out the man she commits infidelity against Elvis in her heart with, night after night. Sam Cooke.

She messes with the needle. “Ooh you’ve stopped it at ‘Only Sixteen’ -you thinking about me when all alone, Mopey?” She grins at him so sly and knowingly that he rolls his eyes, and actor though he is he, he can’t feign indifference. “Thinking about sweet little me and how you came in and bamboozled me? Had your naughty, naughty way with me?”

“Don’t remind me!” he groans and flops back on the bed, half eaten burger in hand. “That weren’t my most upright behavior but I was left contendin’ against the sight of your pretty butt in those frilly little swim shorts and I-“

“-couldn’t help yourself?” Susie recites from her stance between his splayed legs, her hands planted on her hips and he really does adore the way she looks when she’s fed up with him. Her face puckers up and she looks at him determinedly, like he’s a project and she’s a contractor. Like he’s some human sofa she’s gonna refurbish or somethin’. Sends a little shudder through him and he braces for what she says next because he feels it comin’ before those red lips start moving, he just knows her that well by now. “I didn’t mind it Elvis, you were a bit boorish about it but look at us now, we’re the best of friends ever since-“

“-damn funny way to make friends.” he scrubs his face and tries to get rid of the mental picture of baby fresh Susie with her cheek pressed to the janitor closet’s door, and the feel of those frilly swimsuit panties shoved to the side and scraping him as he buried himself in her again and again.

“I guess I more wonder why we haven’t done it again.” she honest to god pouts down at him, half a decade worth of platonic hanky panky wearing her down.

“What!” he sits up with an ungainly flail and Susie relishes the way his pupils blow out and his eyebrow quirks in indignation as if he hasn't stared at her with intent written all over his face, day after day, for the last five years since. “What, hang on now Susie, we’re buddies you and I,” he gestures back and forth between them, his hand knocking against her belly as she towers over him for once, “we’re buddies.” he repeats as if he didn’t have his head buried beneath her skirt two nights ago. That’s apparently on the list of things buddies do for each other.

“Buddies can make sweet love too, Presley.” she teases.

“Sure-“

“And grindin’ and lickin’ and jerkin’ off to the thought of me does not give you the moral high ground here.”

“How did you know-“ he looks comically appalled and it’s too adorable a look on a grown man.

“You’re loud as hell, Elvis.” she giggles and he grips her hips and hauls her down to do -well, he’s not sure what he intended, he just feels like wrestling her and she obliges, probably had planned to trick him into this after all.

Her legs flail and she’s liberal with the elbows against his ribs and he grunts and huffs and slaps at her hands and let’s her wriggle enough to keep it fun, and this is why he loves her, she loves rough housing, she loves curling up with a book and she forgives him for a whole load of horseshit he’s put her through. Susie is a woman for all seasons and he loves her in a way, grappling with her on the fresh made bed as Sam Cooke croons:

She was only sixteen

Only sixteen

With eyes that would glow

But she was too young to fall in love

And I was too young to know

Woaaah

She was only sixteen

He gets her pinned beneath him and he leans his forehead against her forehead and gives her a heart melting smile that she savors through nearly crossed eyes. He slowly lowers the rest of himself to lay against her and they give into what they’ve been longing to do, lips meeting as they savor each other, ignoring the lasting taste of the burger and indulging in soothing each other with eager presses of kisses and long, slow licks with hands that cling to each other. He starts to grind against her through his towel, her jeans making him slide roughly. That makes her pull away with a huff, and it’s not her usual pleasurable huffing. Elvis can tell she’s peeved before he can even pull back far enough to get a good look at her exasperated face.

“Why is this teenage fooling all we do?” she huffs.

“Well, Lord honey, if that’s how ya feel-“ he gripes and starts to slither down between her legs, ready to prove her a brat, and maybe torture her a bit. Death by orgasm. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“No, no.” She kicks and rolls away from him in a move he vaguely recognizes as from the “My baby is a swanky cat” choreography. “Nope, Mopey, tonight is gonna be about you.”

“About me?” he deadpans.

“Yup.” She nods and her hands are back on her hips and she’s back to eyeing him up like a plot of land freshly leveled for a subdivisions construction. “But first dance with me!”

She grabs at him and suddenly they’re in the middle of a vigorous and precarious dance off atop the mattress. Sheets and soft down cause two of hollywoods most sought after groovers to fall all over themselves and each other, hands clasped in a good Spanish pose, arms stiff and bracketing each other.

Everybody loves to cha cha cha

Little children like to cha cha cha

The cha cha cha

My baby couldn’t do the cha cha cha

Elvis forgets the renovating gleam in her eye and those unspoken refurbishing plans for a hot minute while watching Miss Susie Dean as Susie goes

I told her one, two

Cha cha cha

And one, two

Cha cha cha

And up now

Cha cha cha

And baby back now

Cha cha cha

And turn now, cross now! Oooh

I taught my baby to cha cha cha

Hearing Elvis sing along to someone else’s music is an entirely special experience Susie thinks more people ought to get the chance to watch, but some jealous and longing part of her is thrilled she’s one of few who’ll ever see Elvis belting out to Cooke while a boyish smile takes over his face, and his hips wiggle atop his swanky hotel bed in nothing but a resilient white towel. She grips his forearms harder and fully unleashes the little girl locked deep inside her. The one who misses goofing around and who only seems to thrive in the company of this very seductive, very goofy angel of a man. His grunts and groans and moans and trills shiver right through her and she longs for him, worse than most nights.

He executes and guides her in the cha cha steps perfectly, even as their bodies wobble towards the bedside lamp and then towards the TV set, a broken leg always in the cards with one snag or trip in the sheets. That would delay the windshield scene for him.

It’s that melancholy thought that has her swaying up closer to him and holding his hips comfortingly as the record turns and

I love, love, love you

For sentimental reasons..

The way men wrap towels round their hips and flip them over and over into indestructible loin clothes has long puzzled Susie, but she loves watching the way the dark trail of hair on his belly disappears beneath the white terry cloth, and how the v of his hips rolls and pumps his pelvis into the air in a mindless sort of entrancement. As if hypnotized she leans her head against his chest and looks down at him from above, perceiving the outline of him, that part of him that’s been inside her once but she’s never actually seen. She trails a finger down his chest, pink fingernails scraping lightly and trailing down to the towel and hooking inside, tugging a tiny bit, just to test the durability of that fold.

“Susie.” he murmurs warningly and she’s tired of that and not a little hurt at how he rebuffs her offers again and again.

“I’m a woman now, you do realize that don’t you? And I’ve got womanly tastes. Just want to make you feel good, Mopey.” she speaks earnestly into his chest.

“Thumper, you know I prefer lovin’ on you-“

“Is it so hard for you to imagine then, that I might want to love on you the same way?” She lifts those dark and perfectly lined eyes to his beseechingly and gah, it makes it worse than anything for him to deny her again.

“I-I-I’ll m-make love t-t-to ya t-tonight, if if that’s what you- you want-“

“Oh good lord,” she throws her hands up in the air, “you’re so thrilled at the prospect your tone sounds like you just got assigned latreen duty!” she gesticulates some more and nearly wobbles off the bed doing so. He grabs at her and saves them both, but his towel is a casualty.

He clutches her close to him standing on the mattress, and she’s surprised by that, the way there’s panic on his face and how he seems to plaster the naked length of himself against her clothed form, as if he’s safer that way. Gone is the Elvis who loves to joke off an embarrassing or saucy moment, Elvis who shoots her a dirty wink when she feels him growing beneath her during a steamy take. Gone is ole Mopey who, as a grown ass man, still refers to his cock as “little Elvis.”

Speaking of, she can feel the chubby length of him against her belly and she goes to grab ahold of him, maybe she’ll squeeze him a bit and lead him around by it like the petulant puppy he is. She can’t fully enact her plan as only part way down he arrests her movements with a gentle but inflexible grip around her wrist, hauling it back up between their chests.

“Elvis, what on earth is wrong?” she cries out, craning her neck to look him dead in the eyes and resolve his jumpiness over her touching him bare, once and for all. For a smug ‘lady killer’ he sure does act like a shy boy when a gal makes a move herself. “Are you sick?” she whispers as the thought strikes her suddenly that maybe he went a little hog wild with a couple hundred willing fans in the early days…

“What?” his eyebrows shoot up, “what? Hell naw, Susie I-I-I there never was a good time to say this but I just. I never wanted to disappoint ya-“

“Oh! Are you one of those baby Bella mushroom sizes?” Susie hasn’t had personal experience with a tiny knob but has always thought it might be fun to work one in her mouth. It’s an idiotic thought to apply to him the moment she gives it a second thought; she had felt him when he first met her and took her in the janitor’s closet. He felt mighty big then. She had been nearly a virgin but still, it felt big. That couldn’t be it…

“S-Susie.” he stutters real bad and she can feel his hands flexing against her upper arms, kneading the soft flesh in his anxiety, “it’s silly really but I just- it’s that…” his eyes pinch closed and he takes a deep breath before blurting out on the exhale, “I ain’t cut, Susie.”

Cut. She thinks of the director yelling “cut” at the end of countless scenes. She thinks of the barbed wire he hopped over the other day that sliced him real good on the hand. Cut. What the- oh. Uncut. He’s got an uncut cock. Her mouth dries out before it floods again in anticipation and she can feel her eyelids growing heavy as she yearns. Yearns for him badly and it’s no artifice when she licks her lips, trying to formulate a sentence that won’t make her sound half feral. As if he wasn’t alluring enough, now there’s this, and tonight is the night she’s going to have her way. She’ll devour him for once and make him let go of that obnoxious grip he has on every aspect of his life from how his burgers are cooked to how all sexual encounters go.

“-nice little girl like you probably-“ Meanwhile, Elvis is adding some stupid and defensive commentary to her youthful crisis, “-mama couldn’t really afford-“ as she thinks about and processes how this impossibly smug and suave cool cat has a hillbilly cock. And she wants it in her mouth, down her throat, nibbled to a angry, cherry red until he realizes she couldn’t care less that he isn’t like every dime a dozen heartthrob here in the city of angels. Actually she does care, she cares immensely, so much she’s gonna wreck him to prove it.

“Oh god.” Is all she manages initially and her voice sounds utterly fucked out even to her own ears. That gets him to stop his dumb monologue on how he’s more than happy just to mess around in other ways, and he’d never expect her to deal with that. “Oh god.” she moans into his mouth as she seizes the back of his head and brings him to meet her lips again, his stunned eyes still wide and blue and open. And little Elvis is beginning to grow brave and firm up, poking a little at her belly.

It’s not a joke as her knees begin to buckle and she lands on them with a hard bounce, a puddle at his feet, sheets crumpled beneath her knees. Dumbly she stares in reverence as she is finally face to face with him and -oh god, he’s exquisite and unmaimed and his initially unimpressive size is swelling into much more before her very eyes. It’s like watching the primal proof of his attraction grow beneath her heated stare. She places her hands lightly on those strong hips of his, holding him close and savoring the way she can feel the muscle flex beneath her palms. He’s so sturdy and she adores that about him.

The fact that he’d have rather hidden this from her, her! who he admits all sorts of shit to, who he’s cried on innumerable times, his Thumper, his ungentlemanly mistake turned bosom friend. It makes her vengeful almost, not towards him but the image of him. She feels a wave of anger for him and all the glitzy weight that’s rained down on him since he first caught the eye of the sleek and shiny machine. Forever unable to just be. Always in need of a touch up or a rewrite, a second take. Tonight is going to be impromptu, even if she has to bully him into it.

Sweet Susie is taking this vulgar aspect of him better than Elvis had anticipated. In some ways, that is. In others she’s acting batshit insane, looking like a fever has gotten to her, eyes gone glassy and then there’s the way she just slumped down the length of him and is now in a staring contest with little Elvis. It’s, well, it’s a lot for a man to shrug off, particularly when he likes and respects Miss Susie as much as he does. When he would like to be at his best for her and is severely lacking in the basics of that.

“We meet at last!” he hears her whisper down there to little Elvis, and it’s so goddamn weird yet she looks so hungry that he’s spooked by it. The spike of fear rips down his spine and his hardening cock jerks in response because he’s a twisted bastard.

She presses a kiss to the angry vein running along the underside and his own knees buckle at that. He grabs at her hair for some steadying balance, careful to not dislodge the pretty pink bow still holding her dark locks in a windswept bouffant.

“Yeah. You’d better sit down for this, partner.” She grins up at him from down there, teasing his accent.

“Susie-“

“Nope, this is happening.” she’s back in renovating mode and his chest feels a little tight and he’s not sure what he’s so scared about anyway, it’s just Thumper. Maybe it’s because it is Thumper that he’s so queasy about it. She’s a tomboy sure, but she’s always so put together, dainty and proper even in improper scenarios, she deserves the best and hell! -he’s pretty sure her parents are devout Catholics.

He lets his legs give out and he flops on his back, legs spread and a defiant look on his face, daring her to admit she’d rather not. But she doesn’t even look at his eyes, she just blows him an air kiss and then she's back to making conversation with his cock and Elvis wants to die or go back to eating his burger. Or her pussy, that would be nice -but no, Thumper is a stiff necked mule of a girl.

She gets down on her belly between his legs and props up on her elbows, nose close to touching him, “You’re as tanned as the rest of him!” she coos to it and it wobbles appreciatively, the length finally swelling enough to hold itself upright.

Elvis is turned on enough to get stiff but disconcerted and untouched as he is, it’s a slow process. He can’t remember the last time he watched it take its sweet time to get up. “Has he been sunbathing you, too? What a vain bastard! All golden and gleaming, even his pretty cock is all tanned. Does he spread suntan oil on you too? Does he forget himself and start jerking you off? Lord, has he ever burnt you like the silly, forgetful boy he is?”

The feeling of her breath huffing over him and her blatant ignoring of the rest of him is working way too well. Pretty in reference to his hillbilly cock is a goddamn lie but still, Elvis hates that she knows him this well, and he hears himself make a funny noise as she gossips about him to his own cock. “I’m gonna call you Coco, alright?” she makes this pact with little Elvis, reaching out to touch him for the first time, gripping him steadily and Elvis forgets for an second that “Coco” belongs to him, nothing is there to remind him he isn’t floating off the goddamn bed, leaving only his cock with Susie to discuss and tease his vanity and silly inhibitions.

This funky dream state gets jarred when she slides her hand up catching the fucking foreskin and begins to pull it back, farther and farther as it ought to go if his weren’t so tight and fucking weird.

“Ouch!” he hollers, fully back to earth and starts to pull away from her attentions, but she looks so grieved by that he reconsiders and takes a steadying breath before explaining, “It hurts to pull it back too far, very far at all, actually.” he admits, apologetic because that would get the wrinkly shit out of her way at least, but she doesn’t bat an eye. She just keeps looking at that swelling part of him with heavy lidded eyes, false lashes fluttering wildly at the corners, making her look like a love drunk animation. He’s seen girls look at his face this way but Susie hasn’t met his eye in a good 60 seconds or more.

“Aha right then.” she gives a vigorous nod, “Let me know things like that, I wanna know what it is you like.”

He doesn’t really know what he likes, beyond his own hand and grinding and being inside a woman. He’s never had someone have their tongue nearly loll out of their perfectly painted lips at the prospect of licking at him: not once they see what they’re dealing with. Usually this is when the lady politely glances away, maybe lays back, suggests a change of pace, a slight adjustment in the script. Those are the ones who aren’t revolted. Once he’s inside a dame, they tend to forget he’s a hick child from Tupelo, or at least they forget the more unseemly, economic realities of that, of being too poor to get trimmed up like all his fellows. Just another thing to make him set apart -odd. But Susie now, Susie’s an oddity like him and as he watches her lick her lips and stare little Elvis down, he’s uncertain he’s actually comfortable with this much devotion coming out of someone who oughta be getting worshiped by him.

She’s still eyeing him up, hungry as ever, and Elvis starts to wonder if he’s got it in him to handle this, if he might have got a freak on his hands.

This thought process comes to a halt as she does the unthinkable, bringing her hand around him and smoothing the skin forward, up and up until it is fully stretched out and only a round little disk of his pink head and his weeping hole is visible. And then he watches as if in slowed time as she takes him in her mouth just like that, her insistent suction tugging the skin further into its natural state, a state long denied it when in this context and Elvis is very much afraid that if he were a woman the sound he just made would be classified as a shriek.

She politely ignores his hollering and drags her tongue around his puffy head, flattening it suddenly like some goddamn gecko, slithering it inside the hood to lick round his pink glans and it’s, well, -it’s too much of a new thing to feel at 30 somethin’ years old and his knee jerk reaction is to plant his foot on her shoulder and shove her off.

She catapults backwards from his shove, back crashing into the TV while wearing an unphased Cheshire Cat smile. He tries not to sob from the sheer amount of feelings he is feeling about it all, his hands coming up to cover his face.

Poor Susie, poor him. Goddamn it all..

He knows if he tries to talk now it’ll be nothing but stuttering gibberish so he waits for her to come and sit beside him on the bed, hands gently petting his shoulders and raking through his tidy hair, pressing soothing kisses to what parts of his face she can reach through his hands.

“Hey, hey Mopey, you’re alright.” she coos and he thinks about shrugging her off for a minute, his pride a little hurt but he never was much good at shrugging off a comforting woman, not since mamas been gone, so he pulls his hands from his face and wraps his arms around Susie’s middle, catching his breath with his head cradled in her lap. “This is why I love an uncut man, so, so sensitive, aren’t you? I’ll be gentler.”

“No one’s ever done that weird ass tongue wriggling thing you just did.” he tries to justify the fact he threw her across the room. “Did I hurt you? You ok? -Wait!,” he sits up suddenly and his mind is whirring from putting puzzle pieces together, “you’ve done this before w-with some, some o-o-other man?”

“Yeah.” she gives him a soft grin, hand rising to his face and her long fingernails scratch at his sideburns like he’s a cat that can be pacified. Maybe he is, for her he’s close to purring.

“When?“ he demands, feeling very fatherly or some such shit. He wants to kick some ass.

“Remember that movie I shot in the Italian Riviera?”

“You were playing some Roman empress or somethin’, right?”

“Yes, that one,” she smiles dreamily, “well, the Italian producer took a shine to me. And you know that most Europeans aren’t cut either.”

“Really?” he pulls a funny face, mouth folding down dubiously, disgust at the thought of some wrinkly Italian having touched his Susie warring with the fact little Susie compares Elvis and his hick embarrassment to some exotic mogul. “And you liked that shit?”

“Oh I prefer it! So responsive!” she nods eagerly, and they’ve had this same talk about pistachio ice cream before, and Elvis really thinks he might go to hell for having been the one to put that hungry gleam in her eye. Over cock. His cock. A sort of vicarious damnation

“Damn right about the ‘responsive’ bit.” he grumbles.

“Now,” she is back to business and Elvis is back to being scared and horny, their brief cuddle session apparently at an end, “I’ll be sure to be gentler and ease you into it, maybe even give you a word to tap out if it gets to be too much. But you, you’ve gotta promise me that if you really want to explore this, you’ll be good and not throw me again.”

“I-“ -he ponders that and long buried memories of highschool jokes, cameras in the milltary barracks and snide comments from costume designers crowd in, the stupid patheticness of a man of his success and worldly confidence having trouble with this-

“You man enough, Presley?” Susie’s sprightly little dare cuts right through the static of his mind and the truth of the matter is, deep down, he wants her to thump him like she thumps his bike. Make him like it, force him to let go for once. But like hell can he actually manage to say that to her doll-like face. “Or are you gonna be a little bitch about getting your cock sucked?”

Alright maybe he can.

Susie is all woman in this moment and he realizes his little girl has grown up, she’s grown up watching him, learning him, and now she knows him too damn well. He loves a challenge and put that way…”You’re on.” he grins at her dangerously and she tries to keep her triumph subdued, just a little bounce back on her heels and a fierce kiss pressed to his lips.

“Thank you!” she whispers against his lips, eyes up close to his and he can see they are very giddy before she finally pulls away from him, pushing at his shoulders until he’s laying out all vulnerable again in the crisp sheets.

Bemused, he watches Susie bite at two manicured nails as she takes his submission in. They’re the prettiest shade of pink and he’s been trying to find the right name for it since filming began. Elvis asked her over lunch one afternoon and she said she didn't know, the makeup artist had chosen it. All he’s come up with is “nipple pink” -and that didn’t do him any favors sitting in the canteen in tight slacks, watching her Bambi soft eyes go wide when he actually said it out loud.

Now she gnaws on them while sizing up plans of torture for poor “Coco” and he grabs the sheets in his hands as a defensive measure.

“You ever been edged, Mopey?” she asks him.

“Not, not like this, nah. Not this way” he shakes his head, sucks in a breath, deciding to pull his legs up and plant his feet on the mattress, feeling a little steadier that way, “I mean, I’ve held off for a couple hours before, in between rounds or, ya know-“ he trails off because, no, he’s never done this, whatever this is that she has planned. He is sure of it without even knowing..

“Ok.” she gives him a sweet smile, “Well I’m going to be nice about it, so you’re lucky, but if it gets to be too much let’s have a word or phrase. Because we both know that your whiny little “no’s” don’t mean anything in the heat of the moment.”

He grunts and quirks an eyebrow to urge her to go on.

“So,” her tone is entirely fake in its soothing, “so if you just can’t stand being loved on without getting all macho and taking control, all you gotta say is ‘I’m a pussy’, ok?”

Oh goddamn. What a brat. He growls at her and thinks about flipping her up and over, having his way with her until she can’t form a coherent sentence. But that would just prove her point and this is a competition now, not just sex. The stakes are as high as the time she almost beat him at the corn toss last year. “Ok.” he grits out.

“Good boy.” she murmurs and it sends a shudder through him that he doggedly ignores, wary of that floaty feeling she inspired in him a little while ago. If he’s gonna best her at this crooked little game then he needs his faculties clear. “You all good, Elvis?”

“Yeah,” he gives her a cocky grin and forces his hands to relax, game face on and smug smile back in place, “have at it little girl.”

He hopes she’ll shed some of her clothes and she does but only her stiff blue jeans. Leaving her in her panties and that white crisp shirt which is very wrinkled now. The pink bow remains in her hair and serves to really fuck with his mind, along with her sweet face settling back between his legs, and Elvis is man like any other and he really, really wants to cum at the mere sight of her

“Now where were we, Coco?” she asks his weeping head and his hands start to tingle and he gets a really alarming feeling akin to stage fright, so he digs his heels further into the mattress to anchor himself. She blows on the wet head and the chill makes it twitch futilely, about as fed up as Elvis is over being teased this excessively. “So sensitive! I’m gonna have some fun with you baby. That silly man has been hiding you from me hasn’t you? Real mean of him to keep a toy like you from a girl he professes to spoil.”

It’s vague but also keen, this feeling of being ignored for his own good. Like Susie has kindly decided to remove Elvis and his goddamn lady killer reputation from the room, stripping him down to brass tacks, unmaning him to hopefully rebuild him. He really determines to give it the old college try by forcing himself to accept it, to remember that this is little Susie who’s got him in a such a vulnerable state, and while she might be a stinker, she hasn’t got a cruel bone in her body. He makes himself take steadying breaths and focus on the way her tiny hands grip him and move up and down, never ignoring the hood, always incorporating it in the sweet, slow drag. The way she rolls his foreskin up and over his weeping head again and again is just the right amount of friction, like she’s been watching the way he does it himself and he can’t help but start thrusting a little. His hips flex on their own and his mind settles into the well worn groove of needing to finish, the: “fuck it, who cares I need to cum” mentality that’s had him risking plenty of scandals in public or with the wrong lady, just because he can’t stop once it gets this good. He can taste each roll and grip and drag of her nails, and he needs more.

He lets out a heartfelt moan when her mouth starts running up the crease of his thigh, and that makes her give him a responding one. He can’t overthink now, can’t object to the way Susie has started to lick the pulsing vein underneath, collecting the salty taste of him, moaning all the while like she’s getting a deep Swedish massage or some shit. She looks like she’s in heaven kissing his balls and he whines at that, can’t help it because she looks so defiled right now.

His thighs begin to quiver as her lips drag over his tightening balls, her hands along his cock feeling too good. She’s been nice like she said she would be, no more tongue dipping into the glans and he thinks he might get through this unscathed until her hands stop and she pauses from licking at him like he’s a lollipop, to murmur to wobbling length,

“Oh pretty Coco, you look ready to pop! So soon? You can, you know, you can whenever you want, but I’m not stopping after that. We made a deal.”

Elvis heaves a breath in and somehow it sounds as loud as a wheezbag. He holds it in hopes that maybe the tunnel vision he’s got will calm down, the sheets feeling very foreign against his fingertips.

“You ok you there, Presley?” Susie checks in, raising her eyes from his engorged cock to watch his flushed face, because he hasn’t said anything in minutes as his body grows more and more desperate, all he’s been giving her are pained noises and shocked little gasps. “If you can’t talk baby, tap my hand.”

“I can talk, dammit.” he snaps, “Just wanna cum.”

“Oh alright, we’ll get you there then.” she smiles at him, pleased with the petulant set of his mouth that she’s about to erase.

“Wanna be in you.” he tries, hoping maybe her jaw is getting tired and she’ll abandon this science experiment. “Make you feel real good, lil one.”

“Later. If you’re good for me.” she assures him, “Remember, Mopey, nothing’s getting you out of this but a tap on the hand or our agreed upon phrase.”

“Later then, I’m gonna ruin you.” He snarls.

She watches his face closely as he threatens and then accepts with a roll of his eyes and a head toss against the pillows, setting his face like he does when he just wants to get a scene over with. Poor man, he needs this badly, and Susie figures that maybe edging isn’t his cure, overestimation seems more like the ticket to make him lose his mind. His true mind, the one that needs to give in for an hour or two and let himself be wrung out.

With that ambition in mind she starts stroking him in earnest with one small hand, first focusing on the base until he starts to settle and relax. “C’mon, that’s it, you can thrust baby, let’s get you there.”

He gives a little nod and a moaning assent, broad and gleaming shoulders melting back into the bed even as those snake like hips start to work in earnest with her subdued motions. She spares her left hand to place it on his thigh, just to feel the muscle work, dragging her thumbnail on the soft inside. The scrape makes him shudder, more slick seeping out of his foreskin and dripping down his length and she figures it’s now or never.

He’s distracted with bucking up into her grasp and with his eyes clenched closed he doesn’t see when she props herself up and opens her mouth to swallow him down. Predictably the lower half of him jolts clear off the bed, shoving his cock further into her mouth and she’s ready for it, swallowing him down and keeping her teeth clear.

His breath catches before his voice booms with a plaintive, “Oh god, oh no, oh god!” His hands are shaking like they’re motorized and he grips the edge of the bed in one while the other restlessly roams his chest and throat in a strange and soothing sort of tick.

Keeping the majority of his length snug against her tongue, Susie does the nice thing and rubs her hands along his shaking thighs in a soothing gesture, humming to him with his length still down her throat and his neck snaps back so fast in response he looks mildly possessed.

“God, Susie, I’m gonna!-“ he sounds very worried about it and she’s not having that at all.

She rubs the firm line of his lower belly and takes him out a little so it’s mostly just the tip and its sensitive hood left in her mouth and she works him him gently, lolling him around patiently and she’s rewarded within the minute by his pleas coming back in high pitched whines, like the kind he playfully uses in his songs and it’s the sweetest recompense for her efforts.

“Where, where d-d-do you, where do you-y-you want m-me t-to-“

She pops off him for a split second to chirp, “In my mouth baby.”

Then she gets back to it, sucking gently and working the foreskin this way and that, harmless little nibbles to it that has him sitting up straight in the bed with a sudden rush of adrenaline. His belly shaking he’s so close but he has to watch this, has to see for himself that little Susie is moaning like a paid whore while worrying his extra skin with her painted lips. He starts shaking so badly at the sight of her and gratefully she looks up and meets his eyes right when he needs to see her soul, her doe eyes are full of nothing but assurances, lust and enjoyment. Disbelieving but incapable of anything else, Elvis has all he needs in this moment,. He takes his Thumper at her word and cums against the roof of her mouth in long and steady spurts, his strength giving out as he sags back against the sheets.

“Oh goddamn, little girl.” he groans and hopes he’ll hit ground gently because right now he’s close to the moon he’s so heady.

“My word Presley, you taste Devine.” she moans back to him as soon as she is done slurping him up.

He feels his cock give an indecisive twitch at hearing her hoarse praise before it starts to soften. He’s really quite busy digging his fingers into his eye sockets in hopes that he’ll stop seeing stars so he misses it when she reaches up to her hair and tugs the pink bow out, bringing it down to his slick length and wrapping it around the base.

Hyper aware of everything relating to little Elvis right now, he flails at the feel of velvet sliding along it and before he can crack his eyes open and asses what the hell Susie is up to, his freshly sucked cock is being subjected to the hellish sensation of a hairbow being cinched around its base.

Through the pounding in his ears he hears her sweet little voice mummering: “Don’t get soft on me now, ole man. We aren’t done.”

“For fucks sake, Susie!” he thunders and launches up in a sitting posture, just in time to watch her add the finishing touches to a pretty little bow at the base of his vibrantly angry cock. “Susie, I swear, no, just no I-“

“There’s a word for ‘no’ here, Mr. Presley, and it isn’t no.” she kneels there between his legs, transatlantic accent sounding very commanding and her hands folded primly as if she didn’t just force all the circulation to stay in his aching cock. “Dost wish to tap out?”

He glares at her, shooting daggers and vindication that has made grown men shrink before him. She just keeps batting those Bambi eyes and takes to trailing a fingernail up the seam of his balls and he swears he didn’t sob from the feel of it, he just took a weird sounding breath, is all.

Elvis is almost where she wants him, he’s alarmed that he has more in him, but terrified that giving in to her will result in him really letting go. She wants him just past that, in just enough pain to be begging for her to end it by helping him chase his pleasure again. His bottom lip starts to wobble and watching it closely she moves her fingernail with unhurried determination down his balls, passing them and to that smooth stretch of skin right behind them, leading to his puckering hole. His eyes blow wide as he suspects her destination and it’s comical to see the relief on his face when she goes no further, just keeps rubbing that smooth stretch of skin until he sucks in a deep breath from something other than nervousness. Too late he realises his mistake, his stupid worry that she was going to play with his ass blinded him to the fact that rubbing right behind his balls is painfully good and he wasn’t ready to feel this good, this needy, this soon.

Susie finds that watching his balls draw up snug against the velvet bow is really the cutest thing, they’re having a grand time and their owner is making incoherent sounds and hand motions that suggest he wants her to climb up on the bed with him, be closer to him as he lays back down, his body trembling too hard to hold him up.

She feels a great deal of satisfaction at having him so overcome, she has seen him performing and at play, he has astounding stamina and a shocking amount of toughness when it comes to pushing through that pain threshold. She can tell now that it’s that very gift that was keeping him back in this setting. He nearly sinks down to blissful surrender but that mechanism keeps hauling him back out like he’s getting waterboarded instead of loved on. But he’s trembling now, hands reaching for something and his eyes look utterly lost, he’s sinking and she’s there to catch him

Settling on the bed between his splayed legs she leans over him and takes a moment to soothe him, trace his face and swipe the tears she is astounded to find on his cheeks.

“I’ve got you Mopey, we’re gonna let you break free, together, I promise.” he clutches at the back of her neck when she gets close to his ear and she only hears moans from him for a while. “You trust me?”

His hand is shaking badly where it rests on the back of her neck but she feels him starting to rut against her belly, pain having been overcome by need. “Please, mama” he chokes out. “Please, I wanna be good.”

“You’re always good for me, baby. Always.” she drags her mouth against those high cheekbones and tastes salt. “You’ll be good and tell me if it’s too much, right?” She pulls away to stare him down, make him focus on her eyes and when he does they’re shimmering sapphires in the lamplight. Her breath hitches in awe of him.

“W-wa-want y-you t-t-to ha-have f-fun.” he gasps out and that is a different voice, one she hears when he’s playing with children or making voices up for the sock puppets. It’s a little boy’s voice and she’s sure now he’s gone at last. “W-want t-to make m-my lil Susie p-p-proud.”

“I’ve never been prouder, baby boy. I love you.” she swears and now is not the time for it but it slices through his haze and strikes him as just what he needs. He looks all of 17 himself right now and her heart warms.

“I-I know!” he cries low and anguished, and his lip really is wobbling in earnest now, lashes clumping into dark little spears, “You, you a-always s-s-show me.”

“I’m gonna show you now.” she vows, “I’m going to show you how perfect and lovely and beautiful you are to me.” she kisses down the length of his sweaty chest, his hands never leaving some part of her. Her shoulders, her hair, her arms, constantly petting her and clinging as she goes further downwards. “Wouldn’t be such a challenge to get you to be selfish for a second if you weren’t the most giving man on the planet, Mopey. Look at the production you made me go to just to love on you!”

He does look at his vibrant pink cock and the bow around it and the way Susie won’t suck it like a normal human, she keeps kissing his thighs instead and sucking his balls with loving devotion and he cries from it, unabashedly whining and whimpering from how horribly lovely it feels.

Minutes go by and he tries to savor the white noise in his ears, the pounding of his pulse and the feel of her smearing her lipstick on his sack, all the while dreading and needing the moment she finally takes his jerking cock back into her mouth. She grins at the way it’s wobbling and twitching, like a white flag of surrender begging for her terms, anything she asks for and he’ll give it. It’s shining in the lamp light as precum sputters out of it almost as plentiful as seamen in an orgasm.

“Oh mama.” he keeps groaning in between sobs and she rubs her breast harder against the top of his hairy thigh, nearly insane herself from the sight of him this wrecked. Suave and smug Elvis Presley is weeping and thrusting his uncut cock into the air, a hand gripping the strands of his immaculate pompadour until it’s falling into his face, all in hopes she’ll let him cum sometime soon.

“Dear god, you are exquisite right now.” she moans, uttelry moved that he trusts her this much.

“B-be good to me, mama, I-I need-“ he stutters out, voice shaky, switching course part way through his sentence, “-a-am I-I what y-y-you wanted?”

“You are better than my wildest fantasies, sweet man.” She swears earnestly before giving in to the thing he needs. And dreads.

He was right to dread it. When she does envelop him again, it’s like fire and lightning shooting straight up his spine and the ache in his balls resonates with the ache in his chest and he howls, ass clenching, trying in vain to pump out the seed she’s clamped off. She rides him with her mouth like a damn bullrider, going with him as he makes a bridge with his hips, his whole body strung taut in the moment of denial before slumping back again, eyes wild and chest heaving, unable to release.

His body is eel-like as he writhes in the sheets, svelte and lithe, undulating and seizing up in preparation only for the cruel hairbow to dash him back to earth. Susie is losing her mind right along with him, watching this morphing of a man into his most primal state. She tastes nothing but his salty precum and she rolls his foreskin around in her mouth like a chocolate, occasionally diving down the length of him until her nose is buried in his dark thatch of hair.

It’s suckling the tip that sends him wild, so she spares it often, making sure to give him a chance to breath in between her attentions, but there’s nothing more gorgeous than watching him shake and writhe with no aim in mind, gown dumb with need. The minutes begin to bleed for him and all he can think is that he’s being good, that he’s powerless and weirdly he takes some pride that his sacrifice, each shudder and burn of holding back, makes her pleased with him.

A shaky hand comes down to where she’s scratching his thatch of pubic hair and after a brief moment she catches on to his need, entangling their fingers together as he swims to the surface long enough to shudder and mouth incoherent praises at his lil friend.

“You’re a keeper, honey.” he pants, eyes glittering and his neck strained with the effort to hold his fuzzy head up off the pillow.

“And you, Presley,” she grins at him as bright and joyous as ever, “you look awfully pretty like this, mouth hung open, eyes rolling back. Coco downright weeping for me.”

“I-I-I’m glad.” he whispers hoarsely. “T-thank y-y-you, ma-mama.”

She chuckles, because even teetering on the edge of brainless he’s still a darling. It seems he’s forgotten he even has a need at this point, hips stilling and whines ceasing as he pants, his eyes wavering in and out of focus. They’ve finally passed that line and it’s just him and Susie floating here in white sheets while she tells him he’s pretty and good. She starts to consider that maybe she should start pulling him back up in case he’s forgotten the code.

Then the hand limply holding her own squeezes tight and he mumbles into his pillow, head turned away from the bedside lamp, “I needs it bad mama, please mama!” he whines, hand clutching his own hair and his whole body starts to vibrate as if revving from deep within.

“You wanna let go?” she whispers, spitting gently on the head of him, adding to the gooey mess pouring out of him.

“P-please, oh please, I aint gots it-“ he sobs, baby talk slurring through.

“You’ve been so good baby,” she coaxes, “mama is gonna get you there.”

“Need-n-n-need to pee mama.” He whimpers bewildered.

Good lord he’s so far gone.

She makes sure to grip his hand tight and assuring as she takes him in her mouth once more, tonguing at the leaking slit and his scream is deafening and on pitch, shifting into a wheeze as she yanks the bow loose and takes her mouth off to watch the fountain of seed that comes spewing out of him. His jaw works frantically and his mouth is agape as he tastes freedom and epiphany and trust and all he knows is that he can let go at last. So he does, his muscles locking up for ages, emptying himself and he’s entirely unaware and uncaring of where he’s spraying until he hears Susie’s shocked cheer,

“Mopey you’ve hit the ceiling!” and to his misery and relief her mouth comes back to swallow what he’s giving up, warm and wet and rhythmically swallowing down his spend until it’s making him frantic for nothingness and he cries out,

“I-I-enough, enough, i I like, no I- I I am a pussy! Goddamn it!”

She stops immediately and he feels nothing at all for a few moments. He might as well be dead he is so lost to his reality, numb and his sight gone until he feels her slide beside him, soft, small hands that he’d know even in death, gentling him back to earth.

“Can I quote you on that, Presley?” she grins and he only knows that because he can feel the curve of her cheek against his own as he shudders and relearns how to breath. “Look, you’ve ruined mama’s pretty bow!” she dangles soaked pink velvet in front of his face, and for some reason that’s what makes him blush scarlet.

He lifts his eyes to find that there is a glistening wet spot on the ceiling. Oh goddamn. He moans and gives into the need to burrow, deep deep inside of her, this nasty little girl who knows and loves him. He settles for pressing his face into her breasts, the near suffocating dampness of her flesh a comforting transition after being deprived of air by his own hyperventilation for so long. She obligingly gathers him in, throws a leg over his trembling body to bring him closer and he makes himself small and savors it. Nuzzling into her skin and pressing lazy kisses to her skin, trying to say what can’t be said.

Susie finds words first, “Thank you.” she whispers into his hair, “You just gave me a precious gift. You should have seen yourself, a force of nature, Presley.”

He knows his smushed face is blushing and he tries to raise a hand to bat at her face, waggle her chin teasingly but it just flops aimless and enervated. Gah he’s really wrecked. And sleepy. He grabs at her harder as things start to slip in mushy and cloudy softness. She squeezes back just as hard.

“That’s it Mopey,” she gives him head scratches and that’s when he slips away, downwards but it’s not into blackness, it’s into warmth, “drift off, I’ve got you. I’ll be here when you wake up. Maybe hold you to that ‘later’ you swore to me.”

#elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis

[fauna-a]

III The Hanged Man

¡Norse AU! Inspired by American Gods and also by Heroes of the Valley. Let’s say that I’ve interpreted this prompt quite literally.

Caith looked at him, upright and pliable like an ash branch, but in here eyes could be read the doubt. Fear, maybe.

Njall had never seen her frightened, not when their village was burning and they were just five or six years, not when the warrior chief had struck her with a backhanded slap because she had stolen a blade and not, when he, Njall, had shown her what he could do with a handful of signs scribbled in the dust. Caith had not been frightened even when the creatures had appeared the first time and had started to kill. She was never frightened.

«It’s madness» she pontificated, her knuckles holding on the rope. «You are not Odin. You’ll die».

«We are all going to die» Njall retorted tersely. «You know it. If we stay here and do nothing, they’ll kill us all. We don’t know what they are, your arrows don’t hurt them, nor the fire».

«And your suicide will solve this, oh sure!»

«I am not killing myself» Njall stressed those words with all the confidence he had. «It’s a ritual, and you know it very well. A way to gain knowledge. And I am not the first one: that ancient mage tried and-»

«And he died!»

«Not because of the ritual!» Njall exhaled. «Look, if you are here it means you want to help me. Don’t you?»

Caith stared at him harshly. Just above her eye there was a little scar that cut vertically her eyebrow; it came from a shove by Njall when they were children. Caith had fallen with her face on the ground and had hit a rock hidden in the grass. They both had cried, that time, Caith because of the pain and Njall because of the fear.

«Fine» Caith straightened her shoulders. «Take off the tunic and let’s start».

The worst part, Njall presumed, was the beginning, as it was for all the things: getting used to the position, the blood running to the head, the air coming more and more laboriously, the rope sawing his skin. Caith, of course, had made perfect knots and had not left him any escape. In that position, Njall could only see her legs, moving nervously back and forth. Then they stopped and suddenly Caith’s face appeared near to his.

«Well, hung you’re hung. I’ll come and check-»

«No! You can’t come here during the ritual, Caith! I must be alone».

Even upside down, Njall saw perfectly the terrible scowl appear on Caith’s forehead.

«And you’re asking me to leave you like this… and alone for nine days? Do you realize what you’re asking to me?»

«I do. It’s a necessary sacrifice to gain knowledge. And the gods’ grace». Njall hesitated. «If you are my friend… If you are my friend, you’ll understand».

Caith’s eyes tightened, then her face disappeared abruptly from Njall’s vision.

«Goodbye, then. I’ll be back in nine days».

During the following hours, Njall tried to focus on something else, for example all the spells and chants he knew, the runes, the symbols; then he tried to not take offense for Caith’s coldness and to not regret sending her away: she was like this, and the ritual had to be done like this too, there wasn’t much to do about it.

The tree Njall had chosen had grown under a cavern, all twisted up to find the few rays of sunlight that filtered from above; so, Njall was quite protected, but it was impossible to know how long had passed. Maybe he fell asleep (or better, lost consciousness) despite the pain, because at some point it was pitch black and cold. He felt like someone had set fire to every single tendon and he gasped like a fish outside water.

He tried to convince himself that this was the hardest part.

After immeasurable time spent trying to cut himself from his own body, wondering why he had decided to do it, Njall gave up: he started to think about Caith.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his village and the people; but he couldn’t deny that she was the first reason. Caith was a warrior: she had already fought with those creatures, using blade and arrows and it was just a matter of time before a night ended bad. They were monsters emerged by their nightmares, unstoppable. And hungry for human flesh.

He wondered if Caith knew.

He had his lips completely dry and split, and it seemed like he had no more blood in his veins. He wondered how he could still be lucid.

Any pain was gone, his body was in peace. Maybe he didn’t have a body anymore. It was a relief, anyway.

So Caith was right: he was dead.

«Well, I wouldn’t say» said a voice.

Njall said naked feet drawing near him. Funny, he didn’t feel his body anymore and yet his downturned vision was the same as before.

«You’re not dead at all» went on the voice. «But the nine days are gone, little mage».

«Who are you?» Njall was amazed to hear his voice firm: he would have expected it to be broken, weakened by pain, hunger, thirst.

«Who am I? Haven’t you sacrificed yourself for something? For the gods? I am here. I have seen your sacrifice and I’ve accepted it».

A face appeared above his: it was the same colour as terracotta, all resolute dark eyebrows and sharp features.

«Are you ready?»

Njall didn’t have time to ask for what: suddenly he was on the ground, free from the ropes, and it was as if every pain, every sorrow came back all together.

He started to shiver uncontrollably, coughed, tried to get up and collapsed again.

«Now stay calm» said the voice. «Your friend is coming».

Hesitant steps. «Njall? It’s not possible…»

In a moment, Caith was beside him, putting on his shoulder a cloak, wetting his lips, holding him to warm him. Njall tried to croak out something.

«Very sweet, nothing to say».

Caith turned suddenly, still holding Njall. He tried to figure out who the third person was. He saw that he was young, and grinning. Sunlight shone on the jewels his hair was braided with, tied at his ankles and wrists.

«It has been a long time since I saw someone so pig-headed, you know» his grin widened even more and Njall, even if he was exhausted, worn out, thirsty, felt a vague surge of danger.

«What did you do?» whispered Caith, and, addressing the naked-feet youth «Who are you?»

«The one who accepted his sacrifice» squatted down like this, he seemed a young wolf ready to attack. «I have many names. You call me Loki».

#bartprompts24 #bartimaeus prompt week 24 #bartimaeus trilogy #bartimaeus sequence #bartimaeus #nathaniel #kitty jones #my fic #fanfiction #uhhhh #clearly bart is loki... sort of #the ancient mage is ptolemy #and i know that kitty is the one who sacrifices herself in the books #but odin-->nat i'm sorry #sacrifice himself for knowledge? gaining power? nat ofc #also their names are not scandinavian i know but i was desperate

[kigozula]

By Your Side: Sokkla Saturdays 2023

Day 3: Fall

AO3 & FF.Net

As some of you may have noticed, this year I am posting every two weeks, since I have written fewer stories in contrast to the last years. Which means this is my second to last entry. I decided to make a difference this time. While writing today's story, I went with a flow of my feelings without planning it through. It was one of these stories that motivated me to write in the evening without a "final goal" in mind. I thought it would need a continuation most likely. In the end it turned out I was right. Personally, I like stories that shape the form of happenings while writing when a sudden feeling arises, inspiring me to put it into words. So, in two weeks you will be able to read the continuation of today's story! 

Lovers liked asking questions they knew the answers to. Only to hear their loved one say it out loud.

Life was not easy. It was full of tests. Everybody struggled in different ways, with different things.

Her test was her family. To make hard choices. It was cruel for being forced to stay away from the one man who gave her the most wonderful things she ever had. That man who made her feel awesome things.

She would like to stay with him forever. It felt wrong to be away from Sokka. An inner desire, a strong feeling almost stronger than her loyalty to her family.

Yet here she was, entering the seas of the Southern Water Tribe, without permission from the Chief. Without thinking it through.

“Princess, your father wanted you to deliver the message with your royal hawk from Kyoshi Island.” the Captain of her guards said.

Azula’s gaze was lost in the horizon. Her back was turned to the him on deck of her ship.

“I know that very well Captain.” she said.

“Chief Hakoda has the right to take us hostages the moment we enter their seas.“

“I know that as well Captain.” she said coldly.

The Captain sighed, “Princess, I respect your feelings and decisions, but…”

“Captain!” she snapped turning around to face him, „Chief Hakoda won’t touch you or my other guards, you have my word. We both know he isn’t some heartless man. If there are consequences, it’ll be on me.”

“I care about your safety and protection Princess.”

“I appreciate that Captain.”

Both of them and the whole crew on the ship knew that Hakoda would never hurt them as long as they meant no harm, which they didn’t of course. Even if their nations weren’t on best terms, years of communication and allying for certain situations made many of them unspoken friends.

Azula would meet Chief Hakoda, deliver her father’s message and that would be it.

Maybe, … maybe she could also see him one more time. Look at him one more time.

Sokka.

The man who made her fall in love…

Oh she was playing a dangerous game wasn‘t she? Her father was likely to get mad at her. So be it. She was tired of all of this.

The arrival went as expected. The Southern Water Tribe had rules. No outsider could lay a foot on their grounds without taking permission first. Hakoda and Kya kept said consequences for Princess Azula and her Guards harmless. The Guards were given food while Azula was in the “Royal Igloo” as Sokka sometimes called it to mock her.

“Princess, as Chief, I can’t let you get away without any consequences. Your ship will be searched through. I believe you meant no harm, but we all have a task.” Hakoda told her.

“I apologize for the inconvenience.” Azula said honestly.

Kya smiled and put a hand on her arm.

“Please make yourself comfortable Azula. Sokka should be back soon, he went hunting this morning.”

Azula smiled at her too.

When Kya left the igloo, Azula couldn’t help but enter Sokka’s room.

It felt like him, smelled of him. The familiar feeling warmed her aching heart. She sat on his bed and her eye caught his necklace. He normally didn’t take it off leisurely. It was one of his most prized possessions. She froze when she saw a carving on one spot. A name.

AZULA.

Her name. Carved into his necklace he valued so much.

______________________________________________

His test was his deep love for her. His Azula. Without her, every breathe he took felt like it hurt. Everything was her. She was in his thoughts constantly.

When he saw her ship, he literally sprinted on snow, forgetting his task. He recognized her guards sitting in front of his igloo and gave them a nod, almost bumping into his father in the process.

“Father! Where is Azula?” Sokka asked.

“Inside.” Hakoda answered with a look that told him many things.

He looked at his son hopelessly, trying to convey a message. Many times he talked with both Azula and his son, that unpleasant things would happen if they acted on their feelings. Their nations would not welcome a union gladly at the moment. But at this point, it seemed like nothing could hold them back.

Sokka kept held gaze for a moment, wordlessly telling him that he wouldn't stay away from Azula. Not out of rebell to his Tribe, but out of true love, which his father out of many people knew and understood very well. With that he entered the igloo.

Sokka’s feet carried him to his room and Azula stood up abruptly from his bed still holding his necklaced in her hand.

Time appeared to stand still. Desperation in their eyes conveying many words. And all of them meant the same thing:

I love you. Never leave my side!

Azula held her hand with the necklace up only lightly.

“My name?” she asked softly, “You carved my name in your necklace?”

“I carved your name into my heart not just there.” He said not a doubt in his voice.

Azula was already on the verge of tears. She was a second away from running to him. His words only intensified all her feelings.

„Why?” she asked desperately.

Lovers liked asking questions they knew the answers to. Only to hear their loved one say it out loud.

„For the same reason that made you come all the way here even though you knew you weren't allowed to? Why?“

She was silent for a moment.

“To deliver the time and place for the meeting of our fathers.” she said finally.

“Couldn’t you have sent a hawk? They way you did to me when you left last fall?”

She winced at his harsh words, sensing his anger and sorrow. And Sokka regretted what he said immediately. He was an idiot. The last thing he wanted was seeing her hurt, be it by him or someone else.

His face softened up and he walked towards her. Azula closed her eyes when she felt his breath on her ear, his nose touching her hair nuzzling it and inhaling her scent. His hands were balled into fists.

“Why did you leave like that Azula?” his voice shook, his emotions coming out more with every word, “I know you had to go to your family. I never held it against you. But it hurt so much. It broke me apart when you left without a word.”

Azula breathed through her mouth. She turned her head slightly, so that their noses touched.

“It hurt me as much as it did you. You know, if I had looked into your eyes, I could not have gone.”

Sokka’s hands went to her waist, holding her tightly.

“I don’t want to leave you Sokka.” she said.

“Don’t leave me Azula. Don’t ever go please.”

With that, the dam broke. Kisses, tears, hands touched the other’s tightly pressed bodies, as if the other would vanish when they let go. No word could describe how they felt. Embraced tightly they basked in each other’s presence.

Night arrived and Hakoda looked that Azula and her guards could stay. The Guards weren given a guest igloo while their Princess was prepared Sokka's room.

Even though it wasn’t allowed, when night arrived, Sokka sneaked next to Azula in bed. She welcomed him. Wrapped around each other with clothes on, they shared a calmed sleep. Not caring what troubles tomorrow would bring…

To Be Continued…

#sokkla #azula #sokka #sokkla saturdays 2023 #hakoda #kya #by your side #I didn't have many southern water tribe screencaps... #Sokkla in the SWT and in Sokka's igloo is something that will never stop amazing me

[lipglossanon]

Hope you had a good break girlie! So I looked into it and you unfortunately cannot get OG 2 or 3 on PS. I finished Leon 1st route! I was literally cheering as Ada fell and was yelling at her when she kissed him I was pissed. I started Claire 2nd and I’m having trouble understanding how her run lines up with Leon’s. I’m doing basically the same exact things I did with him which is honestly kinda annoying. I’m also trying to figure out the timeline between this one and the first one. Ik that 1 takes place in July & 2 is in September, but what happens in between that with the STARS members? Hoping it touches more on that in 3 (it was on sale digitally for like $10 I’m so excited!). Mr X is terrifying I see why people said this one was the scariest. Anyway sorry for all the info but I couldn’t remember which comment section we were talking g about this before on. 😂😅

Hi!!! 🥰 Never apologize for talking Resident Evil with me cause I’m a huge fucking nerd for this series 🤣

Read more cause it’s long lmao also spoilers for 3 😬 but nothing crazy I don’t think plus 3make is a little different from OG

Also sorry this is like another rant lmao

Yeah I didn’t think it was possible but I always hold out hope cause Capcom are so weird about their IPs 😒 and yes Mr. X was so fun in RE2make (way better than Nemesis but that’s a whole other tangent 🤣)

You might if you can find the GameCube versions of the OG RE2 and RE3 games. They play as well as the PS1 versions and it’s the exact same so not missing anything 😉

Haha that kiss is what I was talking about! Like she’s such a user —which I get that’s her character she’s a spy (first mentioned in RE1 as John’s password-his girlfriend’s name- and that’s why she’s in OG RE2, looking for her boyfriend who was a researcher for umbrella).

And to be honest the B scenarios do NOT complement the A scenarios. I am 100% of the belief that they were last minute additions 😒 for the most part they don’t really add too much in the way of story aside from a few little anecdotes.

So yeah sorry for that big disappointment 😆 oh man that’s a whole can of worms sorta? Lmao. Capcom is notorious for retconning or having confusing timelines 🤣 So buckle up I’ll try to keep this pretty streamlined:

RE1 takes place in July of 1998 and RE2 and RE3 take place at the same time with 3 lasting longer as Jill becomes infected and is in the city a bit longer. Like another disappointing factor is not having any crossover from the 2 and 3 remake cause come on! That would’ve been sick as hell for Jill to run into Claire or Leon in the RPD 🙄

Anywho, but as for the time between RE1 and RE2 is that Umbrella has Chief Irons in their pocket and so has him disband STARS and sweep everything under the rug. So no one believes them about the Spencer Mansions incident and so everyone’s oblivious to the shit storm about to happen 🤣

Brad is a chicken so hides away from everything. Rebecca peaces out. Barry takes his family and leaves for safety; Chris goes off to Europe to look into some Umbrella connections (which is why Claire didn’t find him and what leads into her looking for him a la Code Veronica).

Jill stays behind in Raccoon but she’s legit about to peace out to go after Chris when all that shit goes down and Nemesis is hunting the STARS members down; he fucking annihilates Brad, like tentacle through the mouth out the back of the head (so in 3make his death was way lame in my opinion 😒)

So unfortunate in 3make they don’t touch on anything inbetween 1 to 2 and 3; with OG RE3, there were epilogue scenes that explained what happened to everyone which was really cool but they took those out for some reason. They’re online if you wanna look it up. It explains why Leon ended up working for the govt, where Claire went, what happened to Jill, Barry, Chris, Ada, etc. All really cool and idk why they didn’t toss it in 😞

#ask box #lipglossanon #cassiecasluciluce #lipglossanswers #re2 #re3 #talking re lore lmao #lipglossrants

[dontfeeltoohot]

Have 4.6k of soft, sick paramedic!Eddie and nurse!Steve. 

This should all be pretty accurate when it comes to medical jargon/paramedic+emt stuff. 

Let me know what you think! :3 

X X X He’s tired, which isn’t unusual, but this isn’t his normal kind of tired that’s helped by coffee and stealing some of Henderson’s breakfast. No, this is a bone deep tired that’s making him want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head. As he pulls into the station’s parking lot, the twenty eight year old yawns for what feels like the tenth time in so many minutes, rubs his eyes, and then gets out, fixing his pullover. 

He’s worked hard for the navy quarter zip; not the actual sweatshirt itself, but for the title embroidered on it. On the left, a few inches below the collar; which has a ‘five years of service’ pin, reads ‘E.Munson’. On the opposite side, ‘Hawkins Fire and Rescue’. It’s the back that matters most- in big, white letters, is the word ‘PARAMEDIC’. It allows everyone on scene to know he’s the most knowledgeable, the highest in charge when it comes to any medical situation.

Making his way inside the large brick building, Eddie says hi to a few of the guys from A shift, throwing his black tactical backpack in one of the five, small rooms at the back of the station. It pays to be early, especially when private quarters are hard to come by. He’s sure in the end he’ll let Chrissy have the bed, and he’ll probably fall asleep in one of the large recliners they’ve got in the common room. 

Walking back out, he goes to the cupboard above the stove and grabs his black mug that has ‘Eddie’s, Touch and Be Ketamine-d’ printed on it, a gift from an old chief. Thankful that A shift’s already started coffee, the long haired man pours himself a cup, splashes some creamer in it, then leans against the wall, waiting for more of his coworkers to file in. 

Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair come in first, all talking far too loudly, the youngest four at the station. Fucking fire fighters and their disregard for anyone but themselves. Swallowing and wincing as the hot coffee burns his throat, Eddie nods at them, unable to help the smile that falls on his face when Henderson races up to him.

“Eddie! Dude! Did you see the new Game of Thr-“ 

“I’m gonna stop you right there Dustybun. If you so much as say a word about anything that’s happened, I will kick your balls so hard-“ 

“Okay, okay. Got it. No talking about it,” Dustin gives a thumbs up and heads back to the other three. 

That kid needs some downers or something, he’s far too energetic at six am to be considered normal. Shaking his head to himself, Eddie takes another sip of coffee and turns the tv on that’s hanging on the wall, turning it to the news station. Chief Hopper comes in, Captain Powell and Lieutenant Callahan right behind him. The paramedic salutes them in greeting. Finally, Chrissy, Joyce and Murray walk in, making Eddie stand a little straighter. 

“Morning,” Joyce smiles, her own cup of coffee in her usual to-go cup held tight in her hands. 

“Morning Joyce,” Eddie smiles genuinely. He’s ridden with the other paramedic a few times, and he always enjoys her company around the station. She’s the mom of B shift, and it’s no secret she likes to mother hen Eddie the most. 

“You ready for another day in paradise, my friends?” 

“Paradise must have a different meaning in your mind, Murray,” Chrissy jokes. Eddie puts a hand on her arm and smirks. 

“I’m going to go check how much shit A shift moved,” Eddie informs his partner, going and grabbing an iPad from the office. He knows she’ll want to get some coffee first. “Oh! I got a room for you, by the way,” he adds, earning a large smile from the petite girl. 

“If only he weren’t gay, you two would be a power couple” Murray chimes in, Eddie already half way out the door. 

The bays are warm from the heat being blown in, so the curly haired man pushes his sleeves up, revealing numerous tattoos covering his arms and even one on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Pulling his hair up and out of his face as well, he opens the back of Ambulance 12, sniffling from the sudden temperature change. 

As always, a few things have been switched around from where they should go, making Eddie grumble to himself as he right’s A shifts wrongs. More specifically, he’s cleaning up Jason fucking Carver’s attempt at getting under his skin, and he refuses to admit it’s working. All the guy cares about is getting recognition, Eddie’s sure he doesn’t actually care about helping save lives. 

As he continues, he feels his nose getting stuffy, making him cough when he sniffles. Ugh. If he’s getting sick he’s going to riot. Halfway through the checklist, Chrissy hops in, sitting on the stretcher. She’s eating a nutrigrain bar and Eddie wants to tell her he’s proud of her but also doesn’t want to draw attention to it. 

“How much damage did Carver do?” 

“That man’s going to see me at our next station meeting and I’m going to go off on him I swear to god Chrissy,” Eddie growls, which only makes him cough. Fuck. 

“Easy tiger, I hate him just as much as you do, but I don’t need to have a floater for two weeks because someone can’t control their anger, yeah?” 

He knows she’s right. 

“Fine.” 

The EMT peeks at the checklist and goes to grab what they need, while Eddie counts how many collars they have. Sniffling, he rubs his eyes and reaches for his coffee, hoping to chase away the ache slowly starting to appear in his throat. A minute later, Chrissy reappears with the supplies, as well as a few extra boxes of gloves, tossing them in the cab.

“So, how’s everything going at the garage?” 

A loud bang interrupts Eddie before he can reply. 

“God DAMN it I’m going to smash Ballard’s head against a wall if he doesn’t replace the oxygen tank next time. Does he think my and my physical prowess can lift this shit?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to lift at least 159, Murray?” Chrissy calls out, laughing. 

“Yeah but not completely dead weight that’s metal!” 

Eddie sighs and stands, jumping out of the truck to help the older man. 

“Quit complaining man, at least you’re not the one who had the bariatric guy on the seventh floor last shift,” he glares, making Murray snap his mouth shut. 

As he and Murray start moving the tank to the side of the truck, a tickle blooms in the back of his head. Clenching his jaw, the paramedic gets six feet away from their destination before he freezes 

“Hh! Hold ohhn-“ he sets his side of the air supply down, pulling the collar of his sweater up against his face. 

“hih’GHNgKtuhew! ihhKhTshh’EW! hihEhIKtsch’UHEW!” 

“If you’re sick, I don’t want your germs,” Murray scrunches his nose. 

“I’m not sick, Jesus, can’t a guy just sneeze?” 

“Yes, he can. But you- you don’t sneeze unless you’re around cats, dust, or you’re sick. And since there aren’t any cats and we dust pretty well here thanks to how anal Brenner can be on his damn visits, there’s only one explanation, rockstar.” 

Huffing, Eddie picks the entire tank up by himself, then drops it into the space it’s supposed to go. 

“You’re welcome,” he turns back to his own truck, rolling his eyes. 

“Bless you,” Chrissy gives him a smile when he gets in the truck. 

“Thanks,” he nods, sniffling. 

The paramedic can feel congestion starting to really accumulate in his head, more than just a stuffy head now. It’s as if the sneezes knocked something loose, opening up the floodgates. Clearing his throat, he leans back, sitting in the captain's chair. 

“Robin should be working today,” he gives her a smirk. 

“So should Steve,” she retorts smugly. 

“Base 1- we’ve got a code 2, 10 year old female, possible broken bone, alert and conscious. Address is 4928 Seller Lane, Hawkins Elementary. No posing threats.” 

Eddie grabs the walkie hanging from the holster around him. 

“We got it!” Eddie calls out to the two. “Ambulance 12 copies,” he says into the walkie. 

Chrissy closes the doors, and Eddie hops into the passenger seat, letting the woman drive. He’s tired and needs to wake up more before driving a metal death trap on wheels. Adrenaline is already starting to buzz through him, just like any other call. As soon as they pull out, he grabs the walkie again. 

“Ambulance 12 in route, 6:38 am.” 

“Copy that Ambulance 12.” 

***

“-shhew! snfsnf! Jesus Christ….ihHhNGkTschuhEW!” 

“Bless you,” Chrissy says, keeping her hands on the stretcher as Eddie takes one off to cover his face with his collar.

“You got her?” 

“Yeah,” the star berry blonde tosses him the iPad, info sheet already pulled up. 

Eddie looks up and feels his heart beat a little faster at the sight of Steve Harrington. He’s got navy scrubs on today, ones that fit him well, showing off his arms and ass perfectly. Swallowing and grimacing at the feeling, the paramedic slides up to the nurses station, a smile on his lips. 

“Harrington, missed seeing you around on Monday. Not that I don’t love Nancy,” he throws a smile towards the woman sitting next to him, who merely laughs. “But…I missed seeing your pretty face.” 

“Was getting over a wicked cold, you wouldn’t have wanted to see me, trust me,” Steve laughs. 

Raking his eyes over the nurse, he watches a blush fall faintly over Steve’s cheeks. Beautiful, Eddie thinks. He’s so damn beautiful. 

“On contraire, mon petit prince, I am a sucker for sick, germy boys. Why do you think I took this job?” 

Nancy laughs and Robin, who’s just walking up, gives him a confused look. 

“Right,” Steve shakes his head, getting flustered. “Who’s the patient?” 

“Damn, yeah, that’s a thing. Addison Myers, 10 years old. Was walking into school and fell over the curb. I’d bet a date with you she has a greenstick ankle fracture. Didn’t feel any complete abnormalities but it’s swollen and tender,” he rattles off. “BP is 112/68, heart rate is-snf! uhh..74, respirations we’re 13.”

“Actually 13 or bullshit 13?” Nancy chimes in, always in resident nurse mode. Eddie flips her off discreetly. 

“Actually 13, thank you. I take my job as a medical professional v-snf! very seriously,” he rubs his nose with his wrist, clearing his throat. Steve looks at him curiously, but Eddie ignores it. 

Turning his iPad, he hands it to Steve, who starts signing off on the paperwork. As the nurse does, Eddie sniffles and leans against the counter, yawning. Chrissy comes out from room 3 with a now empty stretcher, laughing uncomfortably at something someone is saying. He can hear it in her tone, so he pushes off the counter and looks at the other three. 

“Be right back.” As he gets closer, he knows the culprit immediately, and his fists clench. 

“Hargrove, how ya doin’ man?” Eddie comes up and throws an arm around the nurse who smells vaguely of cigarettes. 

“Munson,” Billy smiles, the leering smile he gives to all the girls. 

“Yeah yeah, I know I’m hot. However, I don’t appreciate you flirting with my partner, so if you could back off,” he stares at the other with an easy, light smile.

Everyone around them is staring, and Chrissy comes to stand next to him. 

“I’m just being friendly,” Billy laughs, almost condescendingly. 

“Right, and I’m the queen of England. Just lay off and we can forget this ever happened.” 

Suddenly, Hargrove is in his face, their noses almost touching. The scent of smoke makes his nose itch, but other than clenching his jaw, he can’t do much, not when the man is this up in his space. 

“You’re pathetic,” Billy whispers, spoken as if the words are venom.

“And why’s that? Because I’m not fawning all over you and your outdated handlebar mustache? Look, I’ve got people to actually save. So why don’t you go back to wiping asses and getting drinks for old ladies, and let us big boys do our jobs.” 

“You little-“ 

“What’s going on here?“ 

The two men step away as if they’ve been burned. Doctor Owens is standing there with confusion written all over his face. Billy gives the man his most innocent look. 

“We were  just discussing how to properly insert an airway.” 

“Actually, Hargrove here was making my partner uncomfortable, so I told him to leave her alone. Everyone here can attest to that,” Eddie shrugs, smirking when Billy’s eyes go wide. 

Owens looks at Billy and frowns. 

“Hargrove, I’d like to speak to you alone.” 

“Alright handsome, mind if I get that iPad back?” Eddie turns to Steve, who does as he’s asked. 

“God he’s going to be insufferable the rest of the day,” Robin groans. “But I’m glad you put him in his place.” 

“Just looking out for Chris. Jackass had it coming sooner or later,” the curly haired man assures, rubbing at his nose again. 

The scent of smoke is still lingering. When the tickle doesn’t want to recede, Eddie sniffles, which seems to do the trick. Pulling his collar up, the paramedic turns away from everyone. 

“huhINGkTschhew! iiGkSHhew! ahiiGShew! Snf!! SnfSNF!“ 

Both Robin and Nancy bless him as he sniffles and drops his collar down. Steve is staring at him again, making him squirm slightly. The look is intense and makes Eddie feel as though he’s staring into his soul. Nancy grabs a tissue box and the man snags a couple, wiping his nose and shoving them into his tac-pants. As he follows Chrissy out the door to grab a new blanket for their stretcher, he misses the way Nancy and Robin start teasing Steve, who’s blushing and glaring. 

Opening the back doors, Eddie watches Chrissy move the stretcher back into position and then raise the wheels up off the ground. 

“I’ll push it,” Eddie steps in, chuckling when his partner huffs and goes to get into the driver's side of the truck. When he hears the click and lock of the stretcher, he shuts the back doors and moves to the passenger seat, taking one of the tissues out from his pants, wiping his nose again, feeling it start to get runny. 

“Steve is so smitten with you,” Chrissy smirks, plugging her phone back up. 

“Nah, he’s jus-snf! just being friendly. I’m pretty sure he and Robin are a thing.” 

“She’s told me before they’re strictly platonic,” the girl shakes her head, driving back onto the main road. 

“Still don’t think Harrington is gay,” the long haired man sniffles into the tissue, rubbing his nose. 

“Are you okay? You sound kind of stuffy. I know that awful cold is going around, a few people on c-shift had it last week.” 

“Peachy keen, jellybean. Don’t worry so much,” he waves off, even though her words hold some truth. His throat’s starting to truly hurt, more than just a low ache. His head somehow feels even stuffier, now that his adrenaline is coming down, and exhaustion is hitting him hard. 

They get back to the station, where both firetrucks are out. At least it means some quiet, which also means a nap. Joyce and Murray are sitting at the long table by the windows talking when they walk inside. Chrissy puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him. 

“I’ll do the paperwork,” she informs and Jesus, he knows it’s a running joke of them being perfect for each other but he thinks if he wasn’t gay he really would kiss Chrissy Cunningham right now. 

“You don’t have t-“ 

“Least I can do for you after you saved me from Billy.” 

“Hargrove?” Murray butts into the conversation. 

“Yep. He was coming onto me. Eddie got him in trouble with Owens,” she grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

“Good for you Eddie. That guy always gives me the creeps. He’s probably just overcompensating because he has a small dick, at least that’s what a few nurses say,” Joyce nods, sipping on her bottle of coke.

All three other first responders react simultaneously. Murray chokes on his redbull, Chrissy snorts and Eddie’s mouth drops open. Joyce Byers is an enigma, and the long haired paramedic loves her for it. He thinks about his own mother, and all the shit they went through together before she died. She hadn’t been as bold as Joyce, but she had been just as kind. Heart aching just a little, Eddie shakes his head and rubs his face. 

“Well, he was being a dick, and I told him to back off. Owens just happened to be passing by. Honestly if he hadn’t been I’m pretty sure Billy was about to try and deck me,” he shrugged, sniffling quietly. 

“Good for you, he needs a good ego check, or maybe a good write up,” Murray says thoughtfully. 

“You okay Eddie?” Joyce’s kind voice rings out, and he turns to look at her, their hair practically identical aside from his curls. 

“Yeah, just a little tired, didn’t sleep well last night, is all.” 

Before Joyce can reply, her radio crackles to life, informing Ambulance 13 of a middle aged woman suffering from chest pains. Murray hops up and salutes him, Eddie smirking. 

“Have fun you two!” 

Heading to the back of the station, Eddie sniffles harder, now that no one is around to think it’s gross or worry over him. It makes his nose itch, but try as he may, the paramedic can’t quite get at the tickle that’s growing. Pausing right outside the door, the man lifts his collar up, nostrils twitching teasingly. 

“hh! Ugh…snfSNF! hhh! hih’iiGKtSCH! ehIKSHHuhEW!” A few moments pass as he goes into the small room where a single bed occupies most of the space. 

“IHKISHEW! Guh,” Eddie yanks a tissue from his pocket and blows his nose, grimacing at the soupy, thick sound. Maybe he’s getting a cold. 

Laying on top of the bed and the blanket, moving the pillow so Chrissy can still use it, the man drops his head onto the uncomfortable mattress and shuts his eyes, sleep pulling him under.

Thirty seven minutes later, he’s pulled from his dream about a certain nurse and his navy scrubs when his radio sounds. Vaguely disoriented from the sudden interruption, Eddie gets up and stretches, only half listening to the crackly dispatcher’s voice. He feels worse, he realizes as he walks down the hallway to the common room where Chrissy is waiting for him. Scrubbing at his face, they head out and into the ambulance. No rest for the wicked. 

Of course it’s a CPR call. They’ve got no Lucas machine like ambo 13 does, and as Eddie does his seventh set of compressions, he’s starting to wonder if he can steal it off the truck. Chrissy’s talking to dispatch about needing Med Air, they’re not going to get the guy to the hospital when they have to stop every time the AED needs to reanalyze a rhythm. Ten minutes and 8 more sets of compressions, 4 shocks later, they’re transferring care to the helicopter team, and Eddie’s arms feel like jello. 

“Ambulance 12, we’ve got a GSW around the corner from you, are you able to take it? Police on scene, scene has been deemed safe.” 

“Copy that, ambulance 12 in route,” Eddie coughs to his side after clicking the button to mute. 

From there, it feels like they get back to back to back calls, no resting in between. Eddie’s driving as Chrissy sits in the back with an elderly woman who’s fallen and requested to be transported due to hip pain. They go over a particularly large bump and Chrissy huffs, making Eddie look in the rearview mirror and laugh. 

“Sorry Jean, Eddie’s driving skills are about as good as his people skills,” the EMT jokes, making the woman laugh. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I get shout outs all the time from patients,” he calls back in a playful voice. “The ladies love me!” 

Eddie thinks he can hear the woman say ‘I’m sure they do’, but he’s suddenly preoccupied with an itch in the back of his nose, traveling through his sinuses. Sniffling does more harm than good, and as he rolls to a stop at a red light, he aims to the side, into his shoulder. 

“iiHKSHHhuew! snfsnf! hihGKTshhUHEW! hah’ITSCHhh’ew!” 

Chrissy blesses him, and he throws a thanks back towards her, yanking a tissue from the box they’ve got in the middle compartment, rubbing at his nose and then wiping it, still sniffling afterwards. Coughing into his fist a couple of times, Eddie pulls into the Ambulance bay at the hospital, still rubbing at his nose. His head’s started hurting, and with how he still can’t shake this chill, the paramedic briefly wonders if he’s running a fever. 

Steve had been on his lunch break during their last transfer, and when Eddie sees the man’s signature styled hair, he feels himself smile, despite how shitty he’s starting to feel. Nancy tells them to put the woman in room eleven, and Eddie nods, keeping his hands on the stretcher. 

“Now Ms. Jean, no more falls alright? As much as I love seeing your pretty face, I want you safe more than anything,” the twenty eight year old smiles warmly, chuckling as the elderly woman blushes. 

“Thank you sweetheart, I’ll try not to.” 

“Good. Chrissy’s going to get you to sign a couple things on this iPad, all you have to do is use your finger,” he explains, making sure the woman understands before sliding out of the room. 

Heading to the nurses station, Steve, who’s working on typing something, looks up and grins, eyes crinkling slightly. Eddie feels warmth spread through his body. A second later, he’s turning away, snatching a few thin tissues from the box on the counter. 

“ihGNktchUHEW hah’IKshhh’EW! S-Sorry, snf!” 

“Bless y-“ 

“iHGKktshew!” 

“Bless you,” Steve frowns. “You sound like I did last week. You feeling alright?” 

Eddie turns back, wiping his nose as he shrugs. Head heavy with congestion, every blink feels sluggish. He can feel mess accumulating under his nose again already, so he swipes at it then finally lowers the tissues. 

“I was gonna make fun of you for taking a sick day for a silly cold, but maybe you were the smart one,” Eddie’s voice is nasally, consonants rounded. It’s an easy way for anyone to pick up on the fact he’s unwell. 

“You should grab some meds on the way back to the station. You’ve still got, what, another 11hours?” 

They both grimace. 

“Don’t remind me,” the paramedic groans, rubbing his face. “God, I feel like a fucking biohazard,” he adds, pumping hand sanitizer onto his palms and rubbing them together. 

“Good thing you get another three days off,” Steve says optimistically, and Eddie’s never been more grateful for his 24 on 72 off schedule.

Glancing at the clock, Eddie frowns even harder. “All of you are off in fifteen minutes,” he deflates. He’d rather not have to do intake with anyone else. The paramedic enjoys Nancy, Robin and Steve and their constant banter and want to include he and Chrissy. 

“Yep, and I’ve got a hot date with a bath,” Nancy sighs dreamily. 

“Ugh, I have to study for the stupid final in pharmacology,” Robin growls, throwing her pen down. 

Eddie remembers having to do pharmacology. Half the shit they don’t even use, though it’s probably different for nurses. Steve looks like he’s in thought, so the curly haired man sniffles and then looks to see where his partner’s at. 

“I’ll see you guys around.” 

“Feel better,” Nancy looks at him with sympathy. 

“Thanks Nance. See ya Birdie, see ya Stevie,” he smiles at them. 

Steve nods, but then stands, walking around the counter.

“Here, follow me for a sec.” 

Curious, Eddie tells Chrissy he’ll be right back, then follows the brown eyed man. They arrive at a door, the plaque reading ‘nurses lounge’. Steve leads him inside, and his eyes dart around. There’s a few couches and chairs, tables, a coffee machine and television. Steve grabs a black backpack from the corner, rummaging around. A second later, he produces a little blister pack of pills and an unopened water bottle.

“It’s just DayQuil, thought you might benefit from one,” he explains, twisting the cap off of the water bottle and handing it to Eddie, who takes it, eyes wide with surprise. A pill is popped from the blister pack into his hand, and then put back into Steve’s backpack. 

“Thank you,” Eddie swallows the pill, grimacing at how it stings. He doesn’t realize Steve has more until something soft, wrapped in plastic is put into his free hand. 

“These are probably softer than whatever shit you have at the station.” 

A travel pack of tissues. Eddie kind of wants to surge forward and kiss the man, but then he remembers how germy he is. Right. 

“Don’t you need them?” 

“Nah, I’m all better now, just have them in my backpack for emergencies. And I think this counts as an emergency. Your nose is like, bright red man.” 

“Thanks Steve, this means a lot, making sure I don’t die a terrible death from the plague.” 

“No problem. Just doing my civic duty, wouldn’t want a death on my conscience,” he teases, and Eddie wonders if Steve feels the sudden intimacy that’s washed over the air around them. 

The paramedics about to turn to walk back out when he decides to cowboy up and do something about this damn crush he’s had for over a year. Maybe it’s this cold, maybe it’s how soft Steve looks, or maybe it’s just the need to be closer. 

“Hey Steve? Would you want to get some dinner with me? When I’m not a giant germ factory, I mean.” 

Steve’s eyes widen a little, and Eddie braces himself for rejection that never comes. Instead, the nurse steps closer and nods, taking one of Eddie’s hands.

“Yeah, I’d love that. Kind of was hoping for it, if I’m honest.” 

They exchange numbers and by the time he’s back out and sliding into the truck, Chrissy is looking at him expectantly. 

“Please tell me you two kissed.” 

“I’m germy as hell Chrissy.” 

“Ugh, he’s had it anyway, who cares?” 

“…we’re going on a date, once I’m not a biohazard,” Eddie admits, smiling so much it makes his cheeks hurt. 

“No way! Oh my god!” The pitch of her squeal makes him wince and she looks guilty. “Sorry, sorry. You and Steve Harrington. What a couple.” 

“It’s a date.” 

“It’s a stepping stone to boyfriends, Eddie.”  

The rest of his shift goes by in a haze. He may feel like shit, but he also feels oddly light and giddy. Joyce is just as excited as Chrissy is when the news gets to her, hugging him tightly. He tries to pull back immediately. 

“I’m sick, I don’t want to get you-“ 

“I have kids, Eddie. Sometimes, you just have to give a hug, no matter the circumstances. Now, go lay down. We can take the next few calls for you. You kind of look like shit.” 

#my fic #em #sh #st #nw #rb #cc #paramedicau

[yourenothingbutnottome]

what the actual heck

Soooo I was just going through old fanfics I wrote for myself, looking for anything good, and I found this monstrosity of a beginning of a Twilight fanfiction LMAO I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING ON BC IN MY DESCRIPTION / NOTES TO MYSELF I SAID IT WAS A PAUL FIC???? BUT SHE OUT HERE THRUSTING HER B00BS @ DOC CULLEN?? Anyways, if you want to be embarrassed with me and read whatever this is, here you go

Summary: 1st person POV, Bella's sister meets Carlisle for the first time and absolutely makes a fool of herself

T/W: Second hand embarrassment so hard that you will want to burn your phone

I didn’t think there was such a person in the world who could be any clumsier than me. But, enter my sister, Bella Swan, back home to Forks, Washington, and within a week, she’s already managed to get herself almost killed in a car accident. Not entirely her fault, I suppose, but still. The girl can really make an impression.

I hadn’t seen her in literal years before her moving here. Face to face, that is. We of course kept in touch through Facetime. Technology is a wonderful thing. Despite being my twin, she is the exact opposite of me in just about every way. Where she is introverted and quiet, I am obnoxiously peppy and I admittedly demand attention. Which is probably why I ended up staying with dad after the divorce. I’m more my mom, and two aggressively dominant personalities together? Bella would have suffered. So, old Charlie was blessed with raising the loud, rambunctious one. Though, honestly, Bella has turned out to be more work than she puts off. Girl is in the hospital already, refusing to call mom. 

“Come on Bells,” our dad pleads with her.

“You shouldn’t have told her.”

“Bella,” I groan. “Spare us the dramatics. Call her before she books the next flight out.”

“Yea, you’re right,” she mumbles, looking down at her phone. I assume she’s starting a text to our mother, while our father threatens to take Tyler’s license away. Tyler. He’s always been in my friend group. Good guy. He really is good people, and I know damn well that it wasn’t his intention to hurt Bella. Although, the guy has been driving in Forks for long enough to know how to drive in the rain and the snow, so who knows what really happened behind that wheel. 

Just as I had pulled my own phone out to start scrolling through Instagram, the double doors open. I unscrew the cap to my water bottle and take a drink. Because hydration.

“I heard the Chief’s daughter was in.” I glance up to meet the eyes of the one Dr. Carlisle Cullen. And in typical clumsy Swan girl fashion, I choke on my water at the sight of him. As I cough, it spills onto my shirt.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Bella laughs. “Wrong hole?” I blush. Wrong hole indeed. 

“Yea, something like that.” I look back to Dr. Cullen, completely embarrassed. I clearly knew his kids were attractive, but the man that stood before me? I would probably die for him. I’ve seen my fair share of attractive men - yes men, we don’t stan inexperienced boys ‘round here - but no one has ever called for more than a glance of my attention. The way he was looking at me through his lashes - oh, those gorgeous eyes. Gold? Strange, but it fits him in a way that no other would be able to flaunt. His hair was just begging for me to run my fingers through it. And, maybe a bit weird, but he’s got a really wonderfully shaped nose. The nose can make or break the face, and I was a puddle before Dr. Cullen. As if everything that is good in this world has been embodied in this one man, and to save him would be to save mankind entirely. Yup. I would definitely die for him.

Dr. Cullen stands stiffly, obviously making an attempt at avoiding my eyes. Am I paying too much attention to him? Most definitely. Am I going to stop? Definitely not. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Want to, that is. I’d been living in Forks my whole life and this is the first time I’ve encountered this Adonis of men, there’s no way that I’m going to let this moment go without even attempting to remember every inch of his face. Who knows when, or if, I’d ever seen him again.

“Uh, yea. Bella,” my sister says, distracting me from my admiration. I do take this moment to blush, again, and look down. What kind of crazy, obsessed, stalker, psycho weirdo, whatever other creepy name you can think of, am I? I hate people that do exactly what I’m doing right now. I feel like such a child. So immature. What do they call that? Oh. A schoolgirl crush, that’s right. How validating.

Bella elbows me and I realize that everyone was staring at me expectantly. “Oh!” I seriously want to disappear. How much more childish and oblivious can a person get? “Bella.” I point. And then deadpan. Bella is Bella’s name. Not my name. “Handsome.” I cringe. Why am I so flustered right now? What is talking? “Not me handsome. You handsome. No, I mean” I cover my face with my hand as if it would hide me from the shame of this moment. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

My dad looks absolutely confused, whereas Bella is having no trouble laughing at me. Dr. Cullen only nods, the muscles in his jaw twitching ever slightly. He’s annoyed. He thinks I’m dumb. He can’t wait to leave. Oh my god, talk about the embarrassing underage crush on a grown man. Gross. I hate myself right now. Have I mentioned that I want to disappear yet?

Ignoring me completely, he focuses solely on Bella. “Well, Bella, looks like you took quite a spill. How do you feel?” I’d never been jealous of Bella before in my life, but, what I would give to be the girl who almost got hit by the car, sitting on that hospital bed with Dr. Cullen shining his flashlight into my face.

“Good,” she replies, still giggling under her breath. Traitor.

He continues, still ignoring us. I notice he still remains frigid, stiff, tense. It actually seems like he wasn’t breathing. Like he had stopped inhaling the moment he entered the room. “You might experience some post-traumatic stress, or disorientation. But your vitals are good. No signs of any head trauma. I think you’ll be just fine.” He flashes a million dollar smile at her, though it was only a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth. He is beyond dazzling. Still. I’m ready to die for him. Smile at me. Look at me. Breathe. Something. Please. As if sensing my longing, he briefly settles his eyes on me, only to rip them away just as fast, muscles tensing even more, if that was even possible.

Bella being Bella uses this opportunity to talk about his son, attempting to get some kind of reaction out of him, she says, “You know, it would have been a lot worse if Edward wasn’t there. He knocked me out of the way.” I look at Bella like she’s got a screw loose. I know damn well that Edward was across the lot with the rest of his family this morning, nowhere near her. She gives me an exasperated look as if to say ‘I know’. “It was amazing. I mean, he got to me so fast. He was nowhere near me.”

Clever girl. She’s baiting him. He gives nothing away, ever composed. “Sounds like you were very lucky. Charlie.” he nods his head to him as a goodbye. “Bella,” he does the same nod for her. Waiting to hear my name roll from his tongue, he simply turns and leaves the room without a word, not even a glance in my direction. I feel everything inside of me sink and shrivel into nothing at his cool brush of rejection. I don’t know what I expected. I don’t know what I was waiting for. But it wasn’t that. 

My dad rolls his eyes at me, helping Bella out of bed. 

“I’ve got to go sign some paperwork,” he clears his throat awkwardly. “Make sure you call your mom.” He walks off, leaving me alone with Bella.

I quickly look away, just as she lets out the laugh I know she had been holding in the entire time. “Handsome,” she mimics me, raising her voice an octave, “Not me. You handsome. Dr. Cullen you’re so pretty. Dr. Cullen you’re so handsome. Oh, Dr. Cullen, you can check me out. Look at me. Notice me.”

“Oh shove off,” I laugh, lightly pushing her shoulder, walking away from her.

“Oh come on, no way! You always make fun of me. And finally Miss. Perfect Composure falters? You get all giddy and can’t talk? No way I’m letting you live this down.”

“Oh my god, Bella,” I bury my face in both my hands, groaning. I peek out again, brushing my hair back, then glance at her, my face in a grimace. “Was I that obvious?”

“Y/N. Seriously. That obvious? You made the poor man practically run from the room.”

We look at each other for a second and then both proceed to laugh together. We round the corner, still laughing, when we overhear the Cullens bickering amongst each other.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her die?” Edward asks his family. Bella and I look at each other, simultaneously quieting our laughter and tiptoeing back behind the corner, as if we’re one being. I love our twin power. Reading minds without reading minds. Oh, I forgot. Just in case anyone is reading my mind right now, I scream as loud as I can in my head. At that exact moment, I swear Edward visibly flinches and looks right at me. My eyes widen and I quickly move to stare at Bella. We’re caught. 

“Maybe we should continue this in my office.” I don’t need to look to know that was the angelic voice of one Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He thought he could run from me. Little does he know of the persistence that is Y/N.  If he wants to play a game, boy can I play. You’ve got no idea what you’re in for Dr. Cullen. Before walking to them, I look to Bella, look down at her chest really quick, and then back to her eyes - our code for “Do I look like I could stop traffic? I.E. Are my boobs okay?”. She winks at me, meaning, yes. I pull my shoulders back, flip my hair back, and push them out just the tiniest bit, paying extra attention to my walk. I wink back at Bella, a “I’ll see you at home.” 

I swear, as I start towards the Cullen family, Edward is trying his best to hold in a laugh. “Dr. Cullen!” I greet. “Before my sister and I leave, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions. I’m actually hoping to be a surgeon one day, and, well, the guidance of reputable mentors in the medicinal field in Forks seems to be a bit lacking.”

“Oh, you’re interested in medicine?” He asks, forcefully.  Don’t worry, Dr. Cullen. I’ll break you.

“Passionately.” Lie. I don’t even know what those headphone things he wears around his neck are called. But if he’s medicine, then I’m interested. Really, I’m into literature, who isn’t nowadays?

#fanfiction #trash #embarrassing #fanfic #twilight #bella!sister #carlisle x reader #cringe #writing #yourenothingbutnottomewrites

[erudianokabe]

Nat-san (@quiveringdeer) and I were talking about this scenario. So. As requested, I am posting this here. But this is seriously the first time I'm doing something like this, so I do hope I do this justice, and for whoever reads it to find some enjoyment in it.

Afternoon gets a bit boring when your husband wasn't around. But what can you do? You're new to this wife business and as much as you want to spend as much time as possible with him, you can't. How could you when he was a man of particular importance? The war was over, sure, but the army and the military weren't going away which meant that your husband— former Vice Chief, now appointed a rank higher— wasn't all yours for the taking.

Sometimes, you wonder who he was REALLY married to. Was he married to you, or was he married to Marley instead… with you being some mistress that he went home to so very late into the night; like you were the secret.

"Aren't you worried that he's spending too much time at the base? What if it's not work? What if someone has him intertwined around their little pinky?" A concerned friend asked you. It's not always that you ask her to drop by. After all, she was not from Marley. You could only ever ask Hitch to visit when she was in town AFTER she's done with her own series of work. You were just so lucky, weren't you? Every one of your friends just had to be from one form of military to the next. Still, you can't help but want the company. There were just some days when you felt a little lonely, a little frustrated even, when you know that Reiner won't be coming home early because Marley comes first.

It's not as if you don't understand why he does what he does either. Keeping Marley safe meant keeping you safe, and with those little details inserted into the equation, your husband was even more eager and zealous about Marley's stability as a nation. He no longer has the Armor, but that doesn't mean that he can no longer protect his homeland. He was a warrior and a soldier. He's equipped with enough knowledge, training, and experiences to make things work.

"That'd be easier to remedy if that's the case." You started, shrugging your shoulders whilst leaning back against the wooden chair. You threw your head back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. A small pout etching itself on your features.

"So, what you're saying is it's fine if he has a lover?" She continued to interrogate, her honeyed tone of voice taunting. A digit pressed itself upon your cheek and all you could do was swat away at Hitch's hand.

"Absolutely not. What I'm saying is, I don't even need to be worrying about others when I'm already losing to his duties as War Chief. And I'm telling you, Hitch, at the rate that Reiner's going, he won't have eyes for any other man or woman— me included." She could hear the frustration in your voice, and couldn't help but laugh a bit. Who knew that your man of choice would be Mr. Boring. That Reiner guy, the one who wrote Annie the dullest letters.

"He sounds as soul-crushingly boring as ever." She says, this time, taking hold of her cup to take a sip of the tea that you've prepared prior.

"It's not like that, he's just really busy. Besides," You reasoned, pausing a while as you folded your arms over your chest.

"Besides?" The curiosity took over your companion for a bit, mildly eager to hear what you had to say to defend your workaholic partner.

"Besides, it's not like I can strangle his paperwork. And if I shred them, he'll get mad at me…" Again. You noted; Hitch raising a brow at you, a silent way of asking if you've actually done it. Which you have; something that she picked up on when you looked away guilty as a criminal. It took a few seconds for the woman beside you to burst into a healthy fit of laughter. Oh the way she would have paid good money to see his reaction to that.

"It's not funny! He really got mad at me; you know!" And yet, the crimson that painted your cheeks hardly seemed like an indication of what's usually supposed to be disappointment. "Well, if he was really mad, how come you look so flustered, hmn~? Are you skimping out on some juicy tidbit? Come on, you can tell me~"

"I-I'm not. It's just that…"

And you trail off, murmuring unintelligible words as you try to force the memory back, and failing in the process.

You remembered it so clearly. Your husband's hulking frame before you, looking at you as if you were some sort of miscreant. The War Chief looked like he was waiting for something, an explanation that he couldn't wedge out of you because you were being childish. More or less however, he was aware of your crimes because he caught you red handed.

"Do you know what you've done?" His voice was stern, disappointment dripping from his mouth like venom from a viper's fang.

"I was getting rid of competition." You clicked your tongue then, arms folded, eyes cast to the side and pouting like a brat. You were a little younger than him, but he didn't expect you to act like a child. Granted that on most occasions, he found that charming, but this time was different. There was no reason for you to have ripped his documents to shreds. No matter what reason you had, that was something that you shouldn't have done; and an act that he couldn't exactly condone. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, one hand massaging his temple. How was he even going to explain this to the brass? "I hope you know that those were logistics reports, maps to supply routes, as well as an analysis for the next mission. I can pretty much draft everything else, but how do you expect me to go to base tomorrow without those maps? You've gone a little too far with this one."

"Tell them your wife ate it." The spite that was seething from your lips made him furrow his brow. Perhaps it was his fault because he's been working nonstop lately, but he's explained this to you time and time again. He knows that you're smart, that you and him have an understanding, but this was just a little too much, even for you. And this bratty answer, you weren't 12 years old to be saying things like this.

"What are you? A dog?" He asked sarcastically, gathering new sheets of paper from his desk in order to draft new reports while there was still time. "With the way that you're being pretty difficult lately, I should eat you instead." A thoughtless remark, for sure.

"Do you even have the time to do that? You're so busy flirting with your work, that I think I prefer you taking whiffs of Historia's letters instead." You said, also rather thoughtlessly. This made him look up from his drafts. The stare he gave you was absolutely indignant. You were really doing this right now, weren't you?

"Hey, I stopped doing that a long while ago. Now, I only do that to your letters." Reiner attempted at a taunt, maybe that would get you to back down.

"You could be doing that to things other than letters, but of course, you don't have the time." Your answer definitely made him believe that this was all his fault. Him always letting this rebellious attitude of yours slide. A part of him found your jealousy for the mundane adorable, and he loved you for it, but sometimes you also really got on his nerves. And when you do, when you're visibly annoyed at him and making that face… pouting, it makes him want to forget what he's doing and indulge in you. Maybe play your game, put you in your place. Wreck you a bit.

"Are you really challenging me right now?" And when he thought about putting you in place, it was to remind you that you were his top priority even if he's showing it through this obsessive means of insuring you a safe future.

"Sir, with all due respect." There wasn't even a shred of respect in your tone. "If the boot fits, lace it up." Your reply was cheeky and defiant. And he didn't have any words for that in that instant. How that attitude of yours made him chew at the inner walls of his cheek. How that made him undo his tie and unbutton his shirt's collar just to give him some room to breathe. Sometimes, putting you in place also meant giving you your just desserts for being so… you. Sometimes, he just couldn't hold back the urge to make you bite more than you can chew.

Needless to say, two things happened that night. One, someone ate their words. Second, someone was reminded just what Reiner specialized in as the Armored Titan.

"By way of your silence and that look on your face, I'd say Reiner showed you who the boss was." You were pulled out of your thoughts when Hitch's voice broke the silence. You were going to protest but that grin on her face just made you all the more guilty. See, Hitch was the best and the worst person for these conversations. She was the best because she listened attentively to these little girl talks, was invested in the details and the little gossips… but she was also the worst because Hitch was invested in the little details that, when pieced together, gave depth to the entirety of the puzzle. Why was she extra sharp when it comes to things like these?

"P-pretty much." You admitted because the glint in your friend's eye was already an indication that you couldn't lie your way out of this one.

"Well, was it good?" If Hitch could stop hammering you like this… but when she starts, she can be pretty relentless. For a moment, you were silent. Unsure if you even wanted to answer this because it was embarrassing. Soon enough, you folded your arms against the table and pressed your face against it. So helpless. Red as a beet, gaze thrown coyly at the interrogator.

"He was amazing." You whined in defeat, unable to hold yourself back from bragging about your husband. It was the truth anyway, so there was nothing wrong with admitting to it, right?

#◤ .You have to be a Chosen One. ◥ Imagines and Reader Inserts #◤ .To You ◈ 2000 Years From Now. ◥ Drabbles #quiveringdeer #Reiner Braun x Reader #AoT imagines #Suggestive? Kind of? Maybe? I don't know. #hitch dreyse #Reiner Braun #Here you go Nat-san~

[moon-spirit-yue]

It's Not Living (if it's Not With You)

Chapter 1: Raya Ran into Some Complications

(TW WARNING!!!!!! This mini series is based heavily on the show Criminal Minds so if murder mysteries and descriptions of that sort of thing are not for you, just don’t read this fic. It’s not like my other fics where I let you know of a small uncomfortable part. I really don’t want to make this fic too horrific and gory, but it will get dark. Basically, if you can get though an episode of Criminal Minds this fic will be fine. These sorts of topics are not for everyone so please just be aware of this if you choose to proceed)

“Please don’t hurt me this way! I have a wife! And a sweet baby boy! How could you be so cruel?!” Raya whimpered, turning her head away from the monster that was trying to torture her.

“God, you are so dramatic,” Noi snorted without looking up from her book. 

“Okay first of all, your “wife” does not count, and second, you don’t have any kids,” Tong began before getting cut off.

“Objection! Tuk Tuk is my beautiful son and I don’t appreciate you acting like he isn’t,” Raya huffed. “And I am married! Sisu and I have the certificate framed and everything! What’s with the judgement? Is it because we’re gay?” 

“I’m pretty sure the judgement is coming from the fact that you two only got married to get grant money for college,” Boun laughed.

“And who the hell asked you, twerp?” Raya glared.

“Your dog and sham marriage do not count,” Tong sighed.

“You know, you’re being awfully negative to someone who literally got shot at this morning,” Raya grumbled as she reluctantly opened her eyes.

“Yeah well, the unsub missed and honestly? I’m kinda wishing he met his mark. Now wake up,” the unit chief scowled. 

“Oh please! We’re the smallest unit in the BAU! If I get shot and go out of commission we’d literally have no choice but to dissolve and relocate to other units,” Raya scoffed. “And you know that Noi despises change.”

“It’s true. My mother used a different kind of cereal to feed me as kid because my usual stuff was out of stock and I protested by refusing to eat breakfast until I got my cereal back,” Noi confirmed.

“And you call me dramatic,” Raya laughed.

The bickering continued like it always did until they finally landed back in Quantico, their beloved home base. The quartet wearily got off the plane single file and entered the FBI building. It was long a flight and they were all ready to crash.

“Hello my dazzling little agents! How is everyone?” Sisu greeted them once they got on their floor.

“Feeling like I’m about to pass out. The guy was maniac. I mean, who carries three guns on their person at all times? Even for a serial killer, it’s a tad excessive,” Boun groaned.

“I do not envy any of you. It’s bad enough I have to see the crime photos, I could not imagine having to see the guy that caused them, let alone capture him,” Sisu shivered.

“This job is certainly not for the faint of heart,” Tong confirmed.

That was the understatement of the year. 

“Agreed. Hey Sisu, can you drive me? If I go behind the wheel I’m scared I’ll fall asleep,” Raya asked.

“Anything for the wife!” Sisu laughed. Boun and Noi had small smiles on their faces as Tong loudly sighed in displeasure.

“The sanctity of marriage is wasted on you people!” Tong declared.

“We’ll get a divorce one day, don’t worry sir,” Raya giggled.

“A man can only dream. Alright, before we all disperse, I do want to say that you all truly outdid yourselves this past week. The unsub did his damn hardest to shake us off, but we managed to pull through. I really am proud of how this team has grown,” Tong said.

The other four agents beamed at his words. As much as the whole team likes picking on each other at every possible opportunity, they really did care about each other and yearned for their boss’s approval. The next words he said were not nearly as uplifting.

“We’re going to need to get in here early tomorrow. We’re all behind on some important documents that have to get on my desk by the end of the month,” the unit chief stated with a stern look on his face. 

“Boooooo!” Boun groaned. 

“Dang it, I thought he forgot about that,” Noi mumbled.

Raya just decided to stick with her classic pout. She’s getting too tired to talk.

“On that note, I’m going home to my wife, that I married for the right reasons,” Tong said, shooting a look at Raya and Sisu. 

The other four then went their separate ways, mumbling some tired goodbyes and see you tomorrows. Sisu had to practically drag Raya to her car and shoved her in. 

“At least stay awake until we get home,” Sisu sighed while starting the car.

“Can we just go to your place for night? Tuk Tuk’s already there and it’s closer,” Raya mumbled.

Tuk Tuk always stayed with Sisu when Raya was out on assignments so she really didn’t feel like relocating him tonight. Plus, she had a good portion of her stuff at Sisu’s anyways.

“I had a feeling you’d say that. Your bed is already made,” Sisu laughed.

“Have I told you that I literally love you?” the agent yawned.

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt me to hear it more often,” Sisu laughed. 

“Oh, do you still need help dying your roots?” Raya asked. 

She was now vaguely remembering Sisu asking for her help at some point when she was out on her previous assignment. Considering the fact that some dude with mommy issues damn near killed her, the text was shoved in the back of Raya’s mind for a hot minute.  

“Yeah, but let’s save that for tomorrow. I don’t think you can be trusted with anything permanent right now,” her best friend said, side eyeing how Raya was nodding off.

It took everything in her to muster up the strength to give Sisu a thumbs up, so that’s probably for the best. Raya’s pretty sure she did fall asleep during the brief car ride because she blinked and bam! There was Sisu’s house.

“Carry me,” Raya demanded, slumped over.

“Oh my god,” Sisu groaned

After much pulling and tugging on Sisu’s part, they made it through the front door and was greeted by Tuk Tuk’s little yips of happiness. Raya grinned the second she saw her fluffy puppy and began pressing kisses on his furry face.

“I missed you, my beautiful baby! Oh yes I did! Yes I did!” Raya cooed as her precious pup licked her cheek.

“I’m gonna turn in. Anything you need?” Sisu asked her.

“Uh, can you drop Tuk and I off at our house before work? I just got the notification that my package got delivered and it is dangerously unsupervised right now. Other than that I’m good,” Raya explained.

“That’s fine. See you tomorrow, bestie. Love you! And I love you too Tuk!” Sisu said while scratching his fluffy ears.

“We love you too. Night!” Raya waved as she walked into her designated room.

She kicked off her shoes and changed her clothes before immediately flopping on the bed. Raya heard Tuk Tuk jump on the bed and snuggled right next to her. She multitasked by using one hand to pet her dog and the other to text her father she’s back in Quantico, safe and sound. 

One of the major downsides of this job is knowing her father is going into cardiac arrest whenever a case pops up. He tried to convince her for weeks not to take the job but alas, her mind was made up. So then Benja decided to force to send texts when she left for a case and when she came back. Raya carelessly tossed her phone on the other side of the bed once the message was sent and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

****************************

The best way to wake up is seeing Tuk Tuk’s adorable face right beside her. Man, she missed this dog. 

Raya had to speed through her morning routine to get out the door at a reasonable hour. Ushering Sisu to get moving, Raya and Tuk Tuk were already waiting in her car by the time she got in.

“You know, you’re a lot less pushy when you’re tired,” Sisu huffed while driving off.

“It’s not my fault someone’s stealing packages from people’s doorsteps!” Raya exclaimed.

“You’re a profiler, catch them!” Sisu snapped.

“Too busy tracking down serial killers, thank you,” Raya told her.

“I hope you have an extra load of paperwork to finish,” Sisu glared.

“You are so hateful in the morning,” Raya frowned. 

They made it to Raya’s front door with no serious injuries, so she grabbed Tuk Tuk and made her way home.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Sisu yelled.

“I’m good! See you in the office!” Raya yelled back.

Her beloved wife nodded and proceeded to drive to work. Raya turned her attention to where her packages get dropped off at. 

She absolutely beamed at seeing her mail sitting there, unstolen by the neighborhood thief. Raya grabbed the package and tapped the passcode lock combo to let herself and Tuk in.

Raya awkwardly opened the door to let Tuk Tuk in first and kicked her package in the house. Stumbling in herself, she gave the house a quick clean from it’s lack of use. Once Raya finished eating cereal straight from the box, she was already back out the door.

“Tuk Tuk, take care of the house for me while I’m gone, will ya?” Raya asked the little pup. He gave a bark in response which in Raya’s mind meant he totally agreed to her task. 

“I love you bud! See you tonight!” Raya said before locking up her house and getting into her car.

The FBI building wasn’t that far away but of course it was far away enough to hit some major morning traffic. Patience isn’t exactly where Raya shines. She didn’t even have the time to go to her favorite coffee place.

Finally, she was able to make her exit and entered the building of her workplace. She walked up to her desk to be greeted with Boun and Noi arguing over what case they think will be chosen next.

“I’m telling you, those murders down in Texas have to be serial! There’s just too many gun related deaths!” Noi exclaimed. 

“No way, there’s several missing people in North Carolina that have never returned for the past couple weeks! Oh Raya, you’re here! Hey, which case do you think is the next one?” Boun asked as she plopped into her small cubicle.

“No clue. Have either of you guys started your paperwork just at a curiosity?” Raya asked, pulling over her papers. 

Noi and Boun looked at each other guiltily before scrambling to get their own papers out. Raya snorted and shook her head before focusing in on her own work. Those two remind her of actual kids and the fact that they’re both younger than her doesn’t help.

The day was an uncommonly quiet one. Tong summoned them all near the end of it to discuss the files they had to get through in one of the meeting rooms.

“We did make good progress on what we finished today, but there’s still a hell of a lot more to be done. I highlighted which ones are top priority and we need to-” Tong began but was cut off by a random voice.

“SSA Spine, I’m very sorry to interrupt, but someone needs to speak to one of your agents,” the person told them.

“Did any of you have plans for company?” Tong asked with a raised brow. 

The other four agents shook their head while giving each other looks. Who on earth could be looking for one of them? 

“Well which agent do they need? And who’s asking?” Tong questioned further.

“Oh, Virana Fang wanted to speak with Agent Heart,” the woman said.

Raya’s blood somehow chilled and boiled at the same time. Seriously, Virana? Of all the fucking people that could meet with her? 

“Isn’t she like, a big time attorney? Raya, did you get into someone legal trouble?” Boun asked with furrowed brows.

“No, no I did not get into legal troubles. We know each other from uh, I guess when I was in college. And let me tell you, she is not a fan of mine. The fact that she’s here is honestly making me feel rather nervous,” Raya frowned. 

“Oh my god, I remember her! Man, she did not like you,” Sisu scoffed.

“Did Mrs. Fang say what exactly she wanted?” Tong asked.

“No, all she said was that it was urgent,” the woman answered.

“Do you want to tell her you aren’t available? I’m not entirely sure what’s going on but I can see your hackles raised, Raya,” Tong said with concern. Raya stood up from her chair.

“There’s no point. The woman’s relentless. If she says she wants to see me, she will see me. I have a feeling I am not going to like this conversation,” the agent sighed as she reluctantly followed the woman.

“Do you want one of us to come with you?” Noi inquired.

“That’s fine. I can take her in a fight,” Raya joked as she left the room. 

Once the door got closed behind her, she allowed the dread to kick. Tong was right, her hackles were raised. What the hell could Virana possibly want with her? 

Raya’s arms were crossed and her jaw clenched as she approached Virana. Oh, how Raya loathed her regal, menacing face. The older woman looked professional and impeccable as Raya has always known her to be. Never a speck of dirt on her clothes nor a strand of her hair out place. Confidence and ferocity ooze from her every pore, ready to suffocate anyone that tries to challenge her. This is how Virana Fang presents herself. 

But the Virana Fang Raya is currently looking at doesn’t have the usual intensity she frequently possesses. Instead she looks around anxiously, like something terrible is about to happen. The agent can’t find it in herself to feel any sort of sympathy for this woman. 

“Virana Fang. Why have you come to haunt me on this otherwise peaceful afternoon?” Raya drawled. Mrs. Fang almost seemed startled to find Raya standing right in front of her.

“I do not have time for your typical unnecessary remarks. Look, I want to keep this as short as possible. The bottom line is, I need your help,” Virana whispered quickly.

“I’m sorry, you need my help? Me? Raya Heart? My help?” Raya asked, utterly baffled. Virana stiffly nodded in response. 

Raya blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then she smiled. A smile turned to a laugh. What kind of bullshit is she playing at?

“Does it sound like I’m joking? What punchline did I just deliver?” the woman hissed. 

“Oh come on, I’m sure even you can see the irony in this? I mean you asked for my help, Mrs. Fang! God that’s hilarious!” Raya laughed. She honestly can’t take this situation seriously. “You know, it’s probably best if you just go. I thought I could get through this conversation but I think I overestimated myself. Please, have the day you deserve.”

Raya shook her head and turned away but the other woman’s hand stopped Raya. The agent looked back and saw how desperate Virana really looked. Before the agent could respond, Virana decided to speak words that alarmed her even more.

“Listen, I am well aware that in a perfect world, we never see each other again, but this world is not perfect. In a perfect world, my daughter would not be in danger,” Virana hissed in a frenzy.

This conversation could not get any more insane. What on earth was going on with Namaari? If Raya had any doubts about helping the lawyer, they were all gone now.

While her and Namaari weren’t exactly having sleepovers and braiding each other’s hair, Raya still cares about her. Plus, Namaari was certainly in better standing with her than Virana. (Then again, the raccoon that dug around in Raya’s trash last week was in better standing with her than Virana so that didn’t really mean much.)

“Fine, I’ll bite. Why is Namaari in danger?” Raya asked with annoyance. 

“Because a serial killer is after her. That’s why I came to you, considering the fact that catching them is your job,” the older told her in a low voice.

The agent’s jaw dropped. A serial killer? After Namaari? Well, to be fair, Namaari is a lawyer so it’s entirely possible a client is out for revenge? 

“How can you be so sure? I assume you came with evidence because this is not something I can just take your word for,” Raya managed to ask.

“Of course I came with proof, but I would prefer to speak of this in a more private setting,” Virana requested. First reasonable thing she’s said since she got here.

“Follow me,” the agent relented. Raya spend up the stairs to the conference room her team was in with Virana hot on her heels. 

“Hey, sir, can I use your office really quickly? It’s important,” Raya asked while gesturing to Virana.

“Of course,” Tong nodded while giving the two of them a suspicious glance. She is so getting interrogated when this conversation is over.

Raya then walked to Tong’s office and closed the door behind her once Virana stepped in. The agent sat on the little couch in the office with crossed arms.

“Lay it on me, Fang. Why do you think a serial killer is coming for Namaari?” Raya asked. 

Virana opened her briefcase and pulled out two envelopes. She handed them both to Raya. 

“Just look at the cases with those two girls that have unfortunately passed away. I’m sure you’ll realize I’m right,” Virana said while sitting on the chair across from her.

The lawyer said it in such a haughty way that it made Raya really hope that there isn’t a case for more than just Namaari’s safety. The agent took the two envelopes from her and opened the first one.

The first girl’s name was Anchali Chakan. She was born in Nebraska, moved to New York when she was ten, then transferred to a college in Maryland where she’s lived ever since. She got married only three months ago to her long time girlfriend, now wife. Or, now widow. A relatively normal upbringing from what Raya can tell. She had dreams of being an artist and made some very impressive pieces before her passing. Now that Raya knows the basics about this girl, it’s time to get into the actual crime that was committed.

Yikes. That is the first word that comes into her mind when she saw the picture of this woman’s untimely death. Raya doesn’t care how many cases she comes across, she will never get over all the horrible ways people kill. 

The murder happened in her house on March 1st. The place where she’s meant to feel safest. There was bruises around Anchali’s neck, an obvious sign of strangulation. Medical reports say that her windpipe got crushed which was the cause of her death. But alas, the atrocities did not stop there. There was an arrow that went straight through her neck. The only thing that made that detail a little less horrific was the fact that the arrow was stabbed into her neck post mortem. Raya cringed, shook her head, and went on to the second case.

The second woman is Cai Lan. She grew up in New York and stayed there until her last days. Unlike Anchali, Cai was born into poverty and had to claw her way out. She had been a foster kid since she was five, homeless for a period time in her late teens, went into massive debt getting into college, and had to live in an RV until three years ago. Cai did manage to make her way into upper society by scoring a manager position at a financial firm.

Cai’s murder occurred exactly one month after the first one, April 1st. It took place in Cai’s home just like Anchali’s. Again, just like Anchali’s murder, Cai was also strangled to death and ended up with an arrow through her neck post mortem. Looking closer at the arrow, Raya was disturbed to find that there was a heart at the front of the arrow. She glanced back at Anchali’s crime scene and found the heart was at the front of her arrow as well. 

Was the killer trying to imitate cupid’s bow? Ah, shit. This case is one hundred percent serial. But Raya still can’t see the connection with Namaari.

“I will give credit where credit is due, this is a serial case. Even though it crosses state lines, the signature is way too specific to be the average murder. I still don’t understand what this has to do with Namaari, though,” Raya sighed, looking up at Virana.

“Both of these girls are Namaari’s ex-girlfriends. Their break ups were very friendly and the two of them stayed in contact with Namaari after their relationships had ended. It’s how she became aware of their passing,” Virana said. 

For the first time since she entered the office, Virana had a mournful look on her face. Raya may have actually found it in her to feel bad for her but there was a very serious problem at hand. Then the attorney handed Raya another envelope, though this one was much smaller.

The very stressed agent opened it up and felt all color drain from her face. There was two plastic baggies with strands of hair. One strand of hair was significantly lighter than the other.

“Please tell me these weren’t mailed to you,” Raya begged, looking up at her. Virana’s grim face told her everything she needed to know.

“Two days after Anchali was killed, we got this bag with the light brown hair. News of her death hadn’t reached us yet, so we weren’t quite sure what to make of it and sent it to the police for investigation and figured out who it belonged to. Same thing with Cai,” Virana told her.

Wordlessly, the agent pulled out her phone to check the date. All the color drained from her face when she saw that today’s date is May 1st. 

“Follow me, we don’t have much time,” Raya commanded.

Raya gathered all of the evidence presented and all but sprinted out of the room. The older woman quickly followed suit. The two of them barreled into the conference office where her teammates were sitting. They all flinched when Raya tossed all the information of this new case on the desk. 

“Listen up people, we have to get through this quickly. Here you see two girls going by the names of Anchali Chakan and Cai Lan. The connection between their murders is the fact that they were both in a romantic relationship with Namaari Fang. They both died from strangulation. Part of the unsub’s signature is to put an arrow through their victim’s neck after they passed,” Raya said, talking a mile a minute.

“So it’s personal. Is, is that a heart at the tip of the bow?” Noi frowned, pulling the photo closer to her.

“Yeah, I think it’s supposed to reference Cupid’s bow. Namaari also received a strand of both the women’s hair two days after they were killed. These murders occurred on the first of March and April. Considering the fact that today is May 1st...,” Raya trailed off.

“We need to act now. I don’t like the fact that she’s been getting gifts or that the unsub knows where she lives. No need to bother collaborating with any local PD, this crosses state lines so we have full jurisdiction,” Tong began, explaining what he’s read in the files. “It’s safe to say that the unsub is targeting those who have had a romantic relationship with Namaari. They’ve also been going in order of who Namaari dated. She was with Chakan from eighth to ninth grade and then Cai from eleventh to twelfth grade. Mrs. Fang, was Namaari with anyone in the time period between Ms. Chakan and Ms. Lan?”

“Uh, kind of. After her break up with Anchali, I got word she did date a couple of other girls but they were just attempts at forming a relationship. Her next real girlfriend was Cai,” Virana answered immediately.

“Okay, looks like the unsub focuses on official relationships. Who did Namaari date after Ms. Lan?” Tong asked.

Raya could have sworn that Virana eyes landed on her before returning to focus on Tong. Must have been a trick of the light.

“From what I’m aware of, the only other girlfriend she had is her now fiancé, Jintara Niran,” Virana told him.

“But you’re not sure?” Tong pressed.

“No, I’m not,” the lawyer confirmed.

“First, please write down your daughter’s address. I take it her and her fiancé live together?” Tong asked. Virana nodded and hastily wrote it down. 

“Perfect. Now I need you to call your daughter and ask if she has had any other serious girlfriend between Ms. Lan and her fiancé and that she needs to be completely honest. If we’re right, she could very well be killed tonight,” Tong instructed. 

Virana turned rather pale at the last statement but nodded nonetheless. She walked out of the room and grabbed her phone, calling her daughter outside. Tong turned to the rest of the group with a serious look in his eyes.

“Okay, Sisu, you head to the computers and start sending police to stand guard at Ms. Fang’s and Ms. Niran’s house right now. If Mrs. Fang is right, the unsub is going for Niran next,” Tong began, but Sisu was practically out the door by the time he was finished with his sentence.

“Boun, I want you to just get to their address and kick start the process of asking them questions. Plus, I want one of our people to be with them as soon as possible,” Tong told him.

“On it!” Boun confirmed, launching himself out of his seat.

“Noi, stay with Virana and get whatever else you can out of her while simultaneously giving her some comfort. I’ll head out to the local PD where they live. It’s only two hours away but we should set up shop there anyways. Two hours can easily be the difference between life and death,” the agent told the only girls left.

“You got it boss man!” Noi nodded.

“And Raya, you know those case files I had you look at for review?” Raya nodded, causing Tong to continue. “I want you to get those files then head to the local PD with Boun. There’s a case in there similar to this one so we can get a better idea of how to handle this.”

“Understood, sir. I’ve got it covered,” Raya told him while rushing to get out of the room. 

Holy shit. Someone has been killing Namaari’s ex girlfriends. This was not on Raya’s 2023 bingo card.

As Raya glided down the stairs, she passed by both Noi and Virana conversing. Before she could leave the floor, Virana spoke to her.

“Ms. Heart!” the lawyer exclaimed. 

“What is it?” Raya asked anxiously.

“Please, just be careful,” Virana almost begged. Ah hell, that is so weird.

“Of course. I always am,” Raya told her confidently. With that, Raya turned around and dashed out of there.

The agent all but sprinted to her car. Once the car started, she began driving like a bat out of hell to get to her house. Because what on god’s green earth is happening right now?

When Raya got back home, she didn’t even bother locking her car before throwing her front door open.

Raya stood at the door for a moment, completely forgetting where she put the files. Then her brain started working again and she remembered that she shoved them underneath the dryer.

As Raya walked towards the kitchen, something made her pause. Is, is something burning?

Side tracked from her original mission, she found that the stove was turned on. That shouldn’t be possible. It wasn’t turned on this morning when she first got here and Raya’s breakfast was cereal straight from the bag. She did not touch the oven.

Tuk Tuk then made his entrance by running right by Raya and her fears quickly disappeared. Her big old dog probably accidentally knocked into the stove and turned it on. It has happened before. 

“Hey bud. Were you trying to make some dinner for yourself while I was gone? I should probably feed you anyways,” Raya smiled, giving him a light scratch on the ears. Before Raya could blink, she was pinned against the wall by someone wearing a mask.

It took a couple seconds before she realized that this masked man now had their hands wrapped around Raya’s throat, slowly squeezing the life right out of her. 

#raya and the last dragon #ratld #rayaari #namaari #raya x namaari #namaari x raya #raya and namaari #ratld namaari #raya disney #ratld raya #rayamaari #raymaari #raya of heart #disney raya #raya namaari #namaari of fang #raya incorrect quotes #ratld incorrect quotes #disney ratld

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 2x11 Rivals thoughts (rewatching, so possible future spoilers)

OH, YES, I've been looking forward to this one, the first step towards Miles-Julian friendship, right? :D (It's a Julian episode, care to guess how often I'm going to tell you I love him?... 😅 Too many times probably 😬)

Cold-open: oh yeah, I think I really enjoyed this scammer plotline too last time ^^

I shouldn't be quite so amused at Julian's accidental swearing at Miles, but it is right there.

Again, this manages to make so much sense after Julian's genetic engineering reveal - he beat a Vulcan! If I didn't know it was a lst-minute addition, I'd be praising how well they subtly wove it in for years before the plot happened!

Julian's such an awkward bean and I love him

...tfw your cellmate dies on you.

I love how deadpan this dude is, he's great

Oh, Miles <3

IT'S SO WEIRD Miles calling him Bashir, not Julian

Keiko, my love. This was a brief appearance but I appreciated seeing you.

I love Julian and Jadzia just being friends? I want to read more fic of them just being besties, cos they are

This entire scene is amazing; and the sauce not working? Perfection.

"That's too young to die!" You dramatic little so-and-so XD

Julian just wants to be friends with the chief, bless him, he's a good egg really!

'Don't trust a man wearing a better suit than your own' NAH, your suit is way better, Quark

HOW IS JULIAN THIS BAD AN ACTOR. My goodness, man you don't have to miss a shot by a mile to lose. I despair...

Quark so desperately trying to shut down this dude's business. "He's a con-artist, a crook." "One more won't make much difference." Really, Quark, what did you expect?

Quark is so shook up by Rom's departure...

"He shaves the latinum." "I do not... (offscreen) Not much!" These two I swear

SHE is a GREAT con artist and I am HERE FOR IT

"I slipped on the ball?" Julian ever the doctor wanting to check Miles out... <3

Oh, Julian sounds so sad about having to go and not wanting a rematch. He really wanted this to work. Sweetheart

"Tell me your problems, all of them." Oh Quark you just have to be the best at everything don't you? And of course you'll think of a scheme while you're at it.

"My terminal just self-destructed." Wow.

"You make your own luck" *off screen bump* DS9 has got this comedy thing down :P

And naturally, everyone hits the jackpot at once. Man, luck episodes are so much fun, I really am enjoying this one.

Julian and Miles' confused faces while Quark sets up the match. And their realisation it'll be hard to refuse once the war orphans are mentioned. Oh I love this so much!

Julian's really upset about this. I guess he has reasons for not wanting to play in front of folk, huh? In case someone spots how weirdly good he is, perhaps? > Maybe he's showing off with all his preparation and warm-up exercises - even for Miles - as some sort of explanation for his ability; "he just prepares well and is really into it all, honest!"

Julian's not quite as naïve as Quark thinks he is, and good for him!

Oh boy, he has had it with Quark's interference.

Aww, he's so pleased and surprised by the handshake! :3

Their confused faces at the ball not obeying physics! These two!

Okay so Miles looks like Thor, right, while he's just standing there waiting for the ball to get back in his hand XD

"Not impossible, just extremely improbable." Jadzia you gem

This last scene is ace, the crooks all getting their comeuppances and Quark's enjoyment of the whole situation while the dude (yeah I never learnt his name shh) still manages to get money out of him XD

Okay that episode is EXCELLENT, I thoroughly enjoy all plots in it, it's very very good.

#ds9 #ds9 rivals #ds9 2x11 #andi watches ds9

[thegeminisage]

its DUNGEON TIME!!! finally. i didnt do this yesterday bc i was wiped and i didnt wanna teleport away with poor riju...i have no idea if she'll leave or get stuck there or what

this one looks really complicated...but i'm gonna see how far i can get w/o a guide

omg when you go up on your glider riju is like...i'll leave that area to you link! she can't fly 😭

i see mirrors up here but no light source.......MAN the nostalgia im having rn. this is so much like oot

FOUND IT....

omg wait this construct fused a mirror to its shield...mirror shield...WAHHH

oh that took me STUPIDLY long to figure out but i love that i didn't have to look it up (stopping the wheel with the stake)

apparently i can ascend into the final floor but i really don't wanna do that by myself lol

omg lol there was a hive in this room that also had constructs...they fought each other!! i kept waiting for the read to like Jump the construct but it just swung at it. do they truly not do that in this game.........

oops i accidentally warped outside of the temple with ascension...i gotta be more careful lol. quick warp back but the enemies respawned, no blood moon needed

also the puzzle reset itself :/

got the last one! i only wound up looking at a guide for one, but i accidentally read how to do another first, and then the one i was looking for i also discovered how to do while i was doing that one. so all in all a success

eugh i'm scaaared i dont wanna fight a giant BUG!!!

for once im low on food too. im gonna get my ass beat lol

NOOOOO the first half was fine but now shes SUMMONING REDEADS.....................

im not gonna get jumped im not gonna get jumped im NOT gonna get jumped!!!!!!!!!!!

THIS IS SO SCARY FUCK FUCK FUCK I KEEP SHOOTING THEM FROM ONLY INCHES AWAY THEY ARE SO FAST

IM NOT!!! GONNA GET JUMPED!!!!!!!!!

BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CAN'T GET ME IN THE LIGHT

elated. wow. that was so close. im never leaving this little column of light again

rip i have to. but. don't wanna.

GOT all the hives without getting jumped

GOT HER ASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you CANNOT fuck me i am UNFUCKABLE im not getting jumped today tomorrow next year FUCK off

sorry to riju but her ancestor is HOT. ok im taking this seriously

wait. i just realized these expository cutscenes use the sacred realm melody from oot for just a few notes. AAAAAAAAAAAAA that makes me INSAAAAAANE

"he was our chief before he became obsessed with power and changed" HAUGH........good guy ganondorf....................im making him real in my mind palace

wait sorry hold on. im pausing this cutscene again. i was spoiled that the fifth sage was a construct. which i thot was lame cuz it shoulda been a sheikah. but im looking at this image of them - four sages with helmets, one each for rito zora goron and gerudo - then a hylian, zelda - and then a ZONAI, mineru......that makes six! just like oot! and rauru as the leader/seventh sage, like zelda in oot...two hylians in oot and two zonai in totk...THERE ARE SEVEN OF THEM. what if MINERU gets put inside the construct!!! because didn't zelda put her soul in that purah pad or whatever!!!!!! oh my god.........if this turns out to be the case i think i've earned that bingo square. it wouldn't be true to the letter but true in spirit. i've earned that!!!

damn...they way both this ancestor and urbosa feel it's Personal w ganondorf bc he is also gerudo...he's literally staining their good name...

WAAHHHH riju going "my responsibilities as a leader, as a sage, AND fighting alongside you............sounds like fun >:)" she is TOO YOUNG...so much responsibility...wah

omg you can just walk around here now? without crossdressing? did they chicken out of a crossdressing plot in this game...............smh nintendo. i know it wasn't perfectly executed in the first game but they could have just tried again

FINALLY here is mattison...idk why i couldn't find her before the shroud lifted!!!

ok, i gotta take a break and do Chores, i'll figure out what i'm doing next later!!!

#personal #loz blogging #totk lb #totk spoilers

[lover-of-the-starkindler]

For those of you who were wondering if my memory of The Scottish Chiefs by Jane Porter as 'stabbings and secret passages!' was accurate... well, I did a reread, with Wikipedia open in a browser tab pretty much the whole time. :p

Buckle up! This got long, but not as long as the novel... (And there are some, hmm, shifts of opinion as I go so that's fun too!)

We begin by noting that our author lived from 1775 to 1850!

"...purchasing life at the price of all that makes life estimable--liberty and honor." --*squints at the dates* see also, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?? *checks Wikipedia* Ah, she IS Scottish, and not an American writer... Wait, abridged versions were popular with children... which one did I read?? Which one am I reading now???!

*switches to a scan of an 1857 edition*

"...the spirit of one brave man remained unsubdued." --Smol!Mel is making heart eyes already.

He's living in seclusion! He loves his wife! Her name is Marion!! This is peak Romance, y'all! And we're only on the second page. ;))

Hmm, I don't remember this Monteith guy as a fave, so he might be brave and true and all that but if I were an English captain at the castle _I_ would find the silence of the friends and the motions for more silence Highly Suspicious, and so I am come to the conclusion that Monteith is not the brightest guy in the conspiracy. Which has yet to be revealed to Our Hero.

Oooh, I remember this Pandora's box--wait. Wait! Wallace is steadfast in "I agreed to hold it unopened." There is no if, and, but, or. Is this an early example of the type of character who "If I found it on the road would not take it"?!

"...no time must now be lost in unavailing lamentation." --We've already spent more time mourning the murder than doing anything at all to prevent it!! *grumbles in furious reader* By modern conventions, we would have spent a lot more time assuring the audience the violence was an unexpected anomaly and that no one in the household was able to intervene. OR there would have been a much more convoluted explanation for remaining behind to face a known danger.

...oh, to be as blasé as Lord Mar after his adventure in the well. XD

zootopia_bloodbloodblood.gif -- So. That happened. o_O

Enter Lady Mar, asking reasonable questions and being framed by the narrative as ungrateful and unfeeling. Cruel world for a woman who just wants assurance her husband has looked two, maybe three steps ahead before hazarding his life and hers. :(

Enter Helen! Enter Andrew Murray! Beloveds of Smol!Mel! And the banner, which Helen worked with her own sweet hands! *heart eyes intensify*

"If I have no influence with a husband, it would be madness to expect it over a more distant kindred." --petition to see the version of the story where cooler heads (aka Lady Joanna Mar) prevail and are allowed to strategize before setting off to save Scotland. She's not just saying her husband shouldn't go, she's trying to find a way he could conceivably win! And he hasn't done her the courtesy of listening to what she has to say, and Helen, all fired up with dreams of the supremacy of a just cause and also glory, isn't really listening either. :(

Secret tunnel!! Coolest escape route ever!! (Though, uh, one does begin to wonder why anyone bothers with a castle when they are so easy to over-run... And was it not mere pages ago that Lord Mar was saying he could hold this castle indefinitely? XD )

...what's better than a secret tunnel? TWO secret tunnels!!!

Oh, sure, when a MAN expresses discontent with the idea of an uprising it turns into a dialogue, but when I, Lady Joanna Mar--

"The forebearance of tyrants is not that of mercy, but of convenience." -- !!

Ah. I'd forgotten Lady Mar's treachery and the kidnapping of Helen. :( :/ I suppose this helps explain why Lady Mar was not ranked among smol!Mel's favorites... :( (Though if the other major plot involving this lady goes as I recall, smol!Mel was in the right.)

(stabbings to date: A LOT. I should have started a chicken scratch tally. I think Helen vs Soulis is at least number eight. :/ )

WHY did you break camp when a storm was about to break?? Why did you keep going??? Why? You didn't even pose dramatically! *crosses arms* You're going to lose your captive if you keep this up, you know.

o_O HOW does the guy who has just been stabbed TWICE survive whereas the poor woman he SLAPS expires on the spot???

The opening descriptions in "The Glen of Stones" are <3 <3 <3. Stop the book, I'm staying in this moment.

Oooh, I KNOW Smol!Mel entirely missed the significance of visiting the former abbot of Scone. *squeaks in excited reader* The abbot of Scone!! The pillar of Jacob, where the kings are crowned! iunderstoodthatreference.jpg vs the previous allusion to the Bard of Morven and Oscar which I am going off to look up...

...Okay, so this seems to map to Ossian, (presumably no surprise that there's a shrine to him at the Hermitage* which is where this bit of story happens??) who seems to have been Very Popular in the early 1800s. Further research is required, as well as sticking some pins in a map to see who did what where**... But! Oscar seems to have been Ossian's son; as well as the namesake of the contemporary Prince of Sweden.

*LATER: Not that Hermitage, interesting as it is, but this Hermitage--the second one is indeed far more foreboding

**ALSO LATER: no pins were stuck in a map, so my geographical sense remains nonexistent

*squishes the characters' cheeks* Look at you, all noble and generous, NOT PRYING, not asking simple questions like, oh, "What's your name?" XD XD XD (I mean, sure, if you're going to keep your identity a secret, Helen, it's only right you not ask the knight _his_ but once you tell him your father is Lord Mar _you should probably ask the man_. Y'know, something polite like, "Whom shall I commend to heaven for his efforts on my father's behalf?" XD ) (I am EAGERLY awaiting an explanation for the "he is besieged! no he's not, he's across(?) the country!" plot we've got going here...) (I also think I should maybe have a serious thought about Helen saying, "Don't tell my cousin!" but it is framed as "I'm fine, I don't want him to do anything rash," rather than shame...but still... :/ )

Y'know what would have been really fun? If the abbot had included Margaret, Maid of Norway in his history lesson... (Meanwhile Smol!Mel has heart eyes for Robert Bruce...) And the philosophy of freedom _still_ sounds like an echo of the American Founding Fathers, though I can't say if it's a direct echo or a bounce-back from current interpretations.

"Till he reveals his own secret, for us to divulge it would be folly and dishonor." --Folly indeed since I am operating under the assumption that the characters are wrong about who the knight is but I just don't know if that's a memory or if I'm guessing too. XD

Anyway! We've made it through the first sixth of the book! There have been stabbings! Hidden doors! Secret passages! Two thunderstorms! Kidnapping! Escape! A proto-Faramir! Can this possibly get any more exciting???

What's this? A funeral procession?! *squeals in excited reader* I remember this ruse from Ivanhoe!!! C'mon, what's his name, what's his naaaaaaame...!! IT IS! Edwin my beloved!!!! My faaaaaave!!! I had forgotten you made such a magnificent entrance. <3 <3 <3 (Also, can it be? Talk of actual strategy? Will wonders never cease?)

Already there are murmurs of, "Wallace for king," and he's shaking his head and not allowing the standard to dip. *flails* Also, babies. (Including Edwin, who just wants the honor of calling Wallace 'brother'--!!)

"Generous Kirkpatrick! ...Say what you will I can trust your heart from this moment." --This sounds like a _terrible_ idea. Remember your Spidey senses having you call Edwin away from this guy only this morning? Remember that?? That was a much better plan!

How does Kirkpatrick get taken prisoner twice in the same sortee? Does he go, "...I surrender! Oh, NEVERMIND!! ...no, no, really, I surrender?" o_O Honestly, when he says his friends had to hold him back after the governor insulted him--I don't think they had to try very hard. I think he's a braggart and a bully and is going to be A Problem. :/ Why does this guy get plot armor?? Why can't he just get conveniently stabbed?? Whhhhhhhhy?

...annnnnnnnnd Lady Mar is starstruck. :/ (All the characters are like, "Hurrah! A victory!" and I'm over here going, "Oh, you got trouble, right here in River City..." on at least a couple of different plot threads. :p )

*grits teeth all the way through Lady Mar's machinations* (Also, the death of _her_ infant daughter merits only a sentence--and only from her? Rude. In some ways it's no wonder she's acting out. :( ) (And, granted, Edwin and the cousins are no less obsessive, they just happen to channel their obsession a _little_ more...constructively... :/ )

"...beating their whelming waters with his invincible arm, soon gained the vessel and jumped on the deck." --Unfortunately for the Dramatic Atmosphere of the scene I am sniggering at this description. :p (But also, look! An occurrence of 'whelming' on its own! In its natural habitat so to speak! They're so rare these days. ^_^ ) (And I'll make a kind notation on the fact that the first thing they did on reaching safety was return thanks to God. Also a rare occurrence in fiction these days.) (Actually I'm going to come back to this sequence... Our pastor is going through Proverbs and talking about the power of the tongue, and I thought about how Wallace gets paragraphs dedicated to his efforts, and how great he is, and Lord Mar gets _a sentence_ about how his knowledge of the shoreline keeps them alive. And given that this section we're more-or-less in Lady Mar's POV, this unbalance kind of makes sense, but also--WHAT IF SHE WERE TALKING UP HER HUSBAND INSTEAD? :( )

Oh look. It's Monteith. He's a musician? of some skill? (guess he's got to be good at something) and has, somehow, survived the massacre at Ayr. *remains unimpressed by the fellow*

And we end the first third of the book with the English king's son-in-law vowing not to return to Scotland except in peace. Things are looking up for our heroes? Except for all these incidents of retribution that keep happening?

Wait. Is Isabella only Helen's half-sister? And Lady Mar is the third wife?? (This is the second reference to a character I DO NOT REMEMBER so I don't know if we just keep getting offhand mentions of her, or if she ends up being Plot Relevant at some point... XD )

Lord Mar, damsel in distress. Again. SOMEONE LET THE MAN REST AND HEAL FROM BEING STABBED ON PAGE THREE. And yet, plot armor continues to keep his head attached to his shoulders when other folks just get theirs whacked off not twenty minutes after chatting with some other character...

((I finally pulled out my childhood copy and discovered it was edited by no less august personages than Kate Douglas Wiggen and her sister. They call out the original publication date in the forward but this clearly made no impression on Smol!Mel. My suspicion was correct; one of the things removed was an aside calling Soulis out as a supposed necromancer. Again, very different from modern novels where that would _not_ be the very worst thing you could possibly say about someone; and if you _did_ it would work back in to the plot in some horrifying or heroic fashion. My quick skim says the ladies did an excellent job of trimming extra verbiage and preserving the spirit of the tale--but I would argue they didn't have to cut as many footnotes as they did.))

Edwin has been stabbed while saving Wallace's life, alack, alas! (Tis but a scratch, he's probably fine. <_< ) Meanwhile, de Valance pulls a Kirkpatrick and snatches his life from an earned death in fair combat by begging a mercy he himself would not offer. Twice. But at least he's sticking to once a battle. (Do we still write these moments where mercy triumphs over justice and vengeance? Or do we stick to the safer exchange of swords between two honorable opponents? I'm drawing a blank, though I think I could come up with someone getting stabbed in the back by a treacherous opponent?)

...Lord Mar is Not Having A Good Day. To be fair, neither is anyone else at Stirling, but... :/ (Kirkpatrick is probably frothing at the mouth at the latest power plays by his arch-nemesis, Cressingham, but there is a certain satisfaction in knowing that de Valance is worth something as a counter hostage, even if it's primarily because Cressingham doesn't want to deal with the fall out back home!! Who cares if the Scots break the wall and kill us all in revenge, I can't bear the thought of surviving and being shunned... XD )

Secret tunnel!

...and Kirkpatrick horrifies the nice young earl who came to surrender; and no wonder as he's been exalting in his revenge. Will Kirkpatrick now recall his promise and settle down? Will he continue to be the problem child in the rebellion?? We just don't know. Meanwhile the English commanders surrender; the prisoners are saved, and we start drawing a web of who is in love with whom... I'm over here going !!! at the coming reveal of our "mystery knight" as well as Helen heaping coals of fire on her step-mother's head... *bites nails in distress* There is A LOT going on here and a lot of people are about to get some unpleasant surprises. :/

...contrast the reaction of the cousins to that of Lady Mar who is _still_ scheming. :/ something something self-control, fixing one's mind not on earthly things but on those above, true nobility, etc... There is very little subtlety here with the themes. XD

"After having displayed their efficiency in making a king, they would prove their independence by striving to pull him down the moment he made them feel his scepter." -- !!!! (This speech!! It and the imagery in this scene make me think of George Washington and I wish I knew if it were intentional!!) (Also can we pause to consider if the mystery knight HAD been nobility... o_O )

Oh? Interesting that Helen chooses cousin Edwin to be her proxy in looking after Wallace, though it could be argued the kid has already taken the role on so nobody will notice the difference... XD

Buchan? Huntingtower?! (In Scotland? It's more likely than you think. XD *laughs at self*)

I keep hoping that the classical allusion to Lady Mar will be "Potifar's wife"... She continues to be an example of a powerful and influential woman only she's using these gifts for silly and selfish reasons! As a modern reader I would love to see, say, Lady Ruthven shown as her foil--performing similar acts but _in support of her husband and the cause_ instead of just Helen rationalizing the letter that led to Helen's kidnapping as a misguided effort to save the family... [something something role of women + evil stepmother... but I don't have a coherent thought yet]

And the web spins wider; again a fascinating look at how conventions have changed, a more modern author would have shown the bulk of the de Valance's musings as they occurred instead of holding back until this point in the story. However...it is more about the impact this is going to have on the returning Wallace than anything else, so...

Smol!Mel is _still_ screaming about the return to the banquet hall after the double stabbing in the chapel. ICONIC. UNPARALLELED.

(Halfway mark.)

These provisions for individual liberties! The army being set to rebuild villages! Jane, Jane, I'm begging you, _who were you reading?_ and WHY have we not mentioned that Edward is, like, the brother-in-law of the previous king?? Did you feel his claim to an interest in Scotland so tenuous as to not merit a mention? Because otherwise family ties are super important to you--Lord Arundel derives merit from _his_ brother-in-law... And then there is the Mar/Murray/Ruthven + whatever Lady Mar has going on with her kin...

Okay, so the English church, unsurprisingly, is not a fan of Wallace, but how does the Scottish church feel about the declaration of this English bishop?? Are they all, like the Abbot of Scone, just out somewhere in the wilderness?? I don't know my church history well enough to say if we're seeing contemporary-to-the-1800s ideas about faith on display or if this was what they thought the church looked like 400 years prior...

"...proud folly in a woman, otherwise of shrewd understanding..." -- Ha! Textual confirmation of Lady Mar's abilities as well as the narrative calling her on her actions

Oh no. I'm going to have to actually think about relative ages. :/ OK. So Lord Mar's age was eventually given as 60. Lady Mar was introduced as a "well-preserved" early 30s mother of infant twins. Helen, daughter of the first wife, can't be more than 25 and might still be under 20 (come to think of it, Soulis is supposed to have offered for her hand when she was 14 and it can't be too many years later unless they were visiting the English court at the time??). Compare Wallace, early 30s, married to his childhood sweetheart and expecting his first child, universally remarked on as a youthful commander (though older than some of his lieutenants who seem to be drawn from his contemporaries). Lord Mar has a (presumably younger) sister with a fifteen-year-old son. These data points make having your first kid in your thirties sound normal which makes the jab of "well-preserved" an uncalled-for insult because the English governor wanted to hand Marion out as a prize and _they should be roughly contemporary_!! ...where was I going with this? XD somewhere about how Lady Mar can quit whining about her age but also the narrative is unkind to her? OH! There it is, she says she was quite a child when she married Lord Mar. WELL. There's also Isabella who is younger than Helen and they can't have been married longer than Isabella is old...and she's 15? depends on how old Helen actually is? Lady Mar may have a valid point but also shouldn't her kids be older as well?

I've been side-eying the famine/plenty flourishes since it took what seemed like three days to render a settlement, on their own grounds and presumably thrifty, starving by the addition of _one_ outlaw. And now, even with the English plunder, we ought to be looking at tight belts nationwide if there was no Scottish harvest??

How is this unstinting adulation not going to our hero's head? O_o On one hand it's kind of sweet and on the other it is very much Too Much.

But wait. Be there foreshadowings of Doom as we await Edward and his armies? :o (Oh hey! Finally!! We acknowledge kinship between Alexander and Edward! And we keep going because it's barely an aside! Now granted, I myself only thought of this over halfway through, but shouldn't it have come up in the first discussion of how Baloil ended up on the throne??)

Oh ho ho, we have Lady Mar backstory!! And ages! Lord Mar had one previous wife, so Helen and the still-off-page Isabella _are_ full sisters and Helen is only two years older than Isabella. Our current Lady Mar was nineteen when she married (and seems to have conveniently forgotten the ultimatum "I shall _die_ if I marry anyone else!" she gave her father when he suggested a different alliance :p ) which means... 32-19=13...she married a guy who was 47... and Helen is...only 15. :/ I was going to say 16 but talked myself into guessing more so yay for me? But if Soulis with the marriage-proposal-at 14 wasn't SUPER sketchy (and he IS/(was? I can't recall off-hand if he's been permanently removed from the active cast which would argue he's lurking somewhere to show up again)), than our over-dramatic Joanna has been showered with all good things and refuses to recognize it. (This _still_ puts Joanna and Marion at having their first kids in their 30s...) (And I love how Joanna's cousin is like, "I have pointed out that your proposed course of action is invalid on these various points" and when she nods at the appropriate places congratulates himself on a job well done. Meanwhile _all_ his cousins are like, "We reject this reasonable view of our various pet projects and will trouble you no more." :p )

(Oh and there's a conspiracy going on! Because we can't have nice things!)

"He will not be called a king; because, with our crown certain limitations are placed on the prerogative; but he will be our regent, that he may be our dictator, and every day demand gratitude for voluntary services, which, performed as a king, could only be considered as his duty!" -- an interesting perspective from the conspiracy

No! Not a Bruce in Edward's lines! :o :o :o

The wood! The wood! The end of the world!

...And we take a dire turn toward tragedy. Or perhaps, we made that turn at the beginning of the battle, and we have now plunged into the Valley of the Shadow of Death. :/

(Smol!Mel is agog over the feat of sword-splintering)(and also Concerned over Helen's current whereabouts if even the Bruce are held prisoners at the moment...)

"Aunt! He has a Divine Master, whose example he follows, though in deep humility! He lays down his power; it is not taken from him." -- !!!!!!!!!!!!

"I pity you now, aunt," replied he. "But you bewilder me. ...Surely, love comes not in a whirlwind, to seize the soul at once; but grows by degrees, according to the development of the virtues of the object, and the freedom we give ourselves in the contemplation:--and if it be virtue that you love in Sir William Wallace, had you not virtue in your noble husband?" -- Edwin gets some of the best speeches AND a scathing commentary on the adultery trope. <3 <3 <3 ("Listen up, kids. Infidelity is NOT love." -- Jane Porter, circa 1809, modern paraphrase)

Oh? We get to enter the court of the king of England in disguise? In hopes of rescuing Helen? And meet up with a certain _royal_ prisoner? *delighted reader*

A SECRET PASSAGE?! <3

O_o Rabid jealousy is not a good look for a king. Neither is the notion that he cannot discern the character of the men who brought the accusation and go, "...nah, I think I'll take my wife and sister at their word." :( (On the other hand, he accepts the word of his bitter enemy? Shades of Saul and David in the cave, perhaps??)(Also, much as it pains me to say it, my Not-Fave Monteith might be better at the whole 'Act Natural' shtick than the prince-in-mourning-and-under-arrest...and Monteith was _really really bad_. XD But at least _he_ erred on the side of keeping his mouth shut. XD )

Murdering pirates is good. :p As is the wardrobe and equippage upgrade. :p (Smol!Mel would like to protest that the Idea of a Knight on an Arabian steed is the stuff of a thousand doodles, and...I can not argue on that point. :p)

Thunderstorm! A stricken traveller! A CHANCE MEETING!!!!!!!! *flails* Who could have seen it coming!!!!! (Although, again, I have some serious concerns about the weather forecasting abilities of ANYONE involved in a thunderstorm scene. *shakes head* Like, y'all could at least NOT be surprised. Or at least pretend you thought the storm would miss you! XD )

"I will decide" -- a bit arrogant, yeah? considering you had _just_ been urged to let God make you a king like Solomon instead of desiring glory on the battlefield? under these circumstances you claim there is an actual choice to make??

"If to be beloved is a source of joy, you must be peculiarly blessed" -- I can't decide if this is a wonderful compliment to give someone or if it's just an odd way of saying that person has a lot of good friends

Oh, so now it's laudable for the prince to take the field?? What happened to that fine speech about Solomon? (Also these castles switch hands at the drop of a hat... No siege warfare here...)

"Beware, then, my dear prince, of changing the simple habits of the simple habits of those virtuous mountaineers. Introduce the luxurious cultivation of France... [and] you will infect them with artificial wants..." -- On one hand I am all in favor of living content with what you have, but on the other is it not Biblical to flourish??

((somewhere in here the lovely and mysterious Isabella makes a brief cameo))

*eyes the Knight of the Green Plume with _deep_ suspicion* *is proved correct mere pages later* :/ You could have been great, Joanna... :(

'Tis but a mild stabbing, a mere physical wound, compared to the jealous power of the tongue. XD

(I complain there are no sieges, and we get one the very next moment! XD )

(This impersonating a pirate/reclaiming the kingdom business has been so engaging I missed the three-quarter mark; we are rapidly approaching the final sixth of the book. !! )

"Never while I live, will I consent to loose sight of you again!" -- Edwin!! Don't _say_ that!!

Oh hai, Kirkpatrick, is it you again? And is it your earlier bloody revenge that the false lords are using as an excuse to ignore you? Imagine that. :( (On one hand I find myself fond of Kirkpatrick: he's blunt and loyal, despite his savagery; he gets a few good zingers in, he's almost a loveable bear of a man. But first impressions hold strong, he has shown himself unchivalrous to his enemies, and it seems thematically sound to find him a bent reed in the end, foiled in his good intentions by his own unbridled passions. :/ )

Not me, a jaded reader who has seen betrayal many times before, making the surprised pikachu face during the trial...

And also look how FAST things fall apart. o_O *benoitblanc-compelsmethough.jpg*

Oh, it was de Valance who kidnapped Helen recently, not de Warren! I was confused there for a bit, thinking his passion easily enough forgotten when presented with... hmm... Other Opportunities. >_> That said, Edward's response of, "Why not get married tonight!" when presented with Joanna's scheme to Make Everyone Sorry is kind of hilarious. :p (I suppose the king believed the scheme advantageous and wanted to be certain neither de Warren or Joanna backed out, but there was zero hesitation there on Edward's part---not even a consideration of a potential double cross...)

...Mr. Wyeth, illustrator, sir; I believe the scene with the seer is at night, not in the afternoon.

Yeeesh, yet another victory for Wallace and now folks are all going, "eh, Edward would make an okay king after all..." ?!?

...while Edward sincerely?? suggests, "How about Ireland? Could you stop destroying my fabulous armies if I give you Ireland??"

*flails all over Wallace's speech to the English heralds* there is Christ-figure imagery invoked here and I am not skilled enough to comment coherently

RIP Ker, a man of great loyalty and few words... If only you'd been given a smidgen more character I would have adored you too

*yowls in distressed reader over the parting of friends and the exile's journey* again with the imagery and the symbolism on the tip of my tongue... It's evocative and effective... And then the visit to the ruined house and mourning the loss of his wife anew... sadkitten.jpg

Mmmmm...more symmetry since Monteith is back. (And do _I_ know what happened to his box? Did we leave it with a churchman in this area?? Not that he's asked for it, but if it's important and the guy to whom it was entrusted is now _persona non grata_... :/ )

Oooh, our first sprained ankle... Hey, what's this??! "Monteith nodded the same, and closed the door on his victims" --hmm, no, don't like the way that sentence ends... o_O

"Ill-deeds must sometimes be done; but we do not emblazon their perpetrators" -- even Edward has standards, I see... :/ (now, a modern author would be a bit more persnickety about timelines here because we seem to suddenly be moving a great many pieces in a very short time... :/ )

Oooooh, I KNEW that was going to go down... :(

Race against time, check. Resumed disguise, check. Pawning jewels, check. End game Romance is...??? (As a modern reader I do not know what to make of that speech or the obviously convoluted explanation of Why This Is Okay. XD I just... I don't know what to do with this. XD ;)) UM. Make that... Marriage of Convenience?? ? ??? )

Bruce is _still_ Really Bad at being in disguise and inconspicuous.

A king disguised as a monk, check... Backstabbing, check... Kirkpatrick gets to stab people...

Oh, so when the cousins adore Wallace it's 'veneration' but when I, Kirkpatrick, grieve his loss it's 'almost idolatry'???

St. Ninian's is a real place?! Did I know that??

Hmmm, so way back when, we did actually spend a lot of time mourning Lord Mar. And now Wallace's funeral gets top billing over both the coronation and Bruce and Isabella's wedding. And, technically, I suppose we give Marion's funeral plenty of attention as well. And the grandfather's burial. And the harper. (But Edwin gets a paragraph? Rude. He got more attention when he was pretending to be dead... oh. oh, hey. SYMMETRY of first and last appearances... That's very clever and goes in a "thanks I hate it" pile. XD ) Where was I going with this--ah, yes, an observation that all (two) in-story marriages are blink-and-you'll-miss-the-paragraph vs the much more conspicuous funerals. It's a very different sort of focus.

As is relegating the fate of the former Lady Mar to the appendix, after giving us a 'villain is driven mad by their own hubris' ending to her arc and then leaving it as an exercise for the reader as to how de Warren would handle a mad wife...

Someone else would probably have interesting things to say about the contrast of Helen in disguise as a page vs Joanna in disguise as a knight but I don't want to think up those thoughts, I just want to read them. XD (I still think Joanna had amazing potential to be a _vastly different character_; too bad she walked down the road she did. :( )

crossposted to dreamwidth

#rabbit trail reviews #scots wha hae

[septembersghost]

I really felt sorry for OW throughout the press.It was the textbook definition of misogyny. I know you probably see it as a Getaway Car situation but I feel like she really loved him(I swear I am not a ow fan or shipper and I KNOW she have done/said questionable things in past.) But I don't think anyone would have stayed with someone who attracts so much hate towards you unless you have real feelings for them. Not to mention the way her exhusband weaponized that hate and used it out of pure spite. I can definitely see why she left that man. As a mom I can't imagine someone telling me that I don't love my kids because I moved on from an abusive a****** to someone who actually treats me like a human being(my ex wasn't exactly the nicest person). To think this drama became mainstream and her being a 'bad mom' was a normal opinion because she dated harry is so bad. The misogyny becomes evident once you realise that Olivia took so much shit when people like Chris brown is still thriving.

oh i completely agree with you, the way olivia was treated was despicable and uncalled for - back in september, i reblogged this and it holds true (it's worth reading the entire piece).

In my six years as Editor-in-Chief of EMPIRE Magazine, I saw hundreds, thousands, of films (and TV shows) launch. I saw the press conferences, the junkets, the premieres, read the headlines and columns and interviews; I went on set visits, did some of those interviews myself, walked the red carpet before the talent had even left their hotel and studied the reviews. And out of those hundreds, thousands, I struggle to recall one that has come close to the circus of toxicity and triviality that DWD has turned out to be. And more specifically, that of a director who was as rinsed and wrung out as OW. Most strikingly, this isn’t just the stuff of tabloids, it’s seeped through into film culture, with critics and journalists and readers swept up in speculation and giddy fascination at a woman having her work barely taken seriously while her character and privacy are cracked open.

it also doesn't matter, nor is it our business, if they did start out in the getaway scenario, it lasted much longer than that, and she was torn to shreds online through every step of it. it's not even about whether or not she made some missteps (and the article there mentions the awful way she and flo were discussed and how the media salivated over making that into a cat fight without any evidence), or past mistakes, there's no excuse for the sheer amount of vitriol she received from his supposed fans.

i have more to say about her ex and his behavior that i have been told but i can't address it publicly, so the short response is that i agree with you, and by many accounts, she had very real reasons for needing to get out of that relationship. the way she was discussed as a mother was horrific, the papers being served to her on stage was too. i'm so sorry you went through a situation where an ex treated you badly too. :( you deserve so much better than that. it's gross that h clearly cared for her and that was twisted into some salacious thing and splashed all over various media. and it's terrible that we do this, over and over again, to women simply for dating famous "desirable" men (i have stumbled accidentally on multiple hate blogs dedicated to attacking the girlfriends of famous men in the past week and it is very concerning to me).

the misogyny is ABSOLUTELY apparent - think of how many male directions get away with actual abusive behavior, and this woman was treated like a demon for...her dating life?...it's upsetting. we should have learned better so long ago.

#basically tl;dr but you're right on all of this #anonymous #letterbox

[tsuki-sennin]

(For some stupid reason, Tumblr refuses to show my reaction to last week's episode of Donbros on search results. However, it can be freely read here for your entertainment! We now return to your regularly scheduled brain melting.)

The greatest union of all time is about to occur. I have no further preamble, let's just fuckin' get right into it!

Spoilers, I guess...

-We're still far beyond your comprehension, huh Sononi?

-Awwww, Sonoi do a paint :)

-You did it :)

-"When the hell did I do that?"

-Sonoza's so proud of you Haruka :)

-God, I'm gonna miss this OP soon.

-Let's not dwell too much on the future though!

-Miho is not a gamer.

-Tsuyoshi certainly has an

-Interesting sense of what someone'd be interested in.

-"Yo, whaddup?"

-"We need Juto knowledge."

-"What are they, some kinda Super Sentai!?"

-"Haha, you really been spending a lot of time with your wife huh buddy? :)"

-Y'know Tsubasa, when Naoki Shiina freed you, the Juto that copied you didn't instantly die.

-I think that might be how they resolve the Natsumi/Miho/Crane Lady situation.

-Ooooooooh, that's right! Somebody's lying here.

-"You guys are noobs anyway."

-Ah, looks like Jirou's going home yet again.

-"I miss my girlfriend. Wanna meet her, Tarou-san? And my dad?"

-Tarou :D

-"Rumi cute <3"

-RUMI GONE

-OKAY

-THIS JUST GOT REAL CREEPY OUT OF NOWHERE

-"Ohhhhhhh, this guy's crazy." -Tsuyoshi Kijino, the absolute last person on Earth who should be saying this about somebody else's love life.

-Oh, here we go

-This HumaGear-looking dude must be this week's Hitotsu-ki.

-I think I've gotten way better about identifying Sentai references, so let's see if I get this one.

-Okay, I'm 100% sure those robots on the folder are Bioman-colored. Lines up with his boss looking like Doctor Man. Incidentally Bioman was a series Haim Saban previously considered adapting all the way back in 1986, a good few years before the original Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. It, naturally, didn't get off the ground at all (neither did an idea from Stan Lee to adapt Sun Vulcan), but was the origin of the character Alpha-5.

-And after that, you had the simply titled and completely Saban-univolved "Dynaman", which was basically an Abridged-series style gag dub that aired on the USA Network and Nickelodeon from late '87 to early '88. I've never seen this parody before, but I assume that, since it's late 80s Nickelodeon and they renamed Emperor Aton to "Bernie Tanaka", it would've been riotously funny at the time.

-"Chief! Am I your little pogchamp?"

-"Huh? Oh, yeah sure, whatever man."

-Poor man just wants some praise. Must be a former gifted kid.

-Looks like Miho decided to go on.

-Here comes Sononi!

-Kill her.

-"I don't wanna stab my fiance!"

-"Do it, bitch boy!"

-Ooooooooh, girl bringin' out the shade.

-"In the name of my beloved Natsumi, the black dog will chomp down on the crane!"

-"Awwww, how cute! The doggo thinks he's gonna kill me!"

-Ah, right immortal. Don Clan has an annoying tendency to make their stuff TOO strong.

-I have to wonder just what goes through Momoko Arata's head whenever she's brought in for InuBro scenes.

-Ooooooh, Sononi. Having thoughts?

-Oh shit, Tsubasa's throwing down!

-Murasameeee!

-Thing I learned yesterday. Murasame is, naturally, a reference to Nanso Satomi Hakkenden, which was the name of a sword with the power to control the waters. It'd make sense he'd naturally gravitate towards somebody named Inuzuka.

-Ooooooooh, somebody's dead!

-Oooooooh, nooo!

-Sononiiiiii!

-Hello, Tarou!

-"Humans are delicate little creatures. Same things that make them laugh, make them cry. Something that you'd never get."

-Thank you, Crane Lady, for your... somewhat twisted affection for our kind.

-Ohhhhhh noo, here comes the wife guy.

-"Sononi. What the fuck, man?"

-Well, that's messed up.

-Ah, yep, Sonoi and Sonoza are here.

-"Get out, nerd!"

-YO WHAT THE FUCK GUYS?

-She's your homegirl! Your bestie! Your sister! The one woman who isn't either completely horrified and/or enraptured by your presence!

-"The dog man..."

-Oooooh, Tsuyoshi's about to kill someone.

-Genuinely.

-Ohhhhhh, she's becoming a hell of a lot like the Don Clan, huh?

-Sonoi, honey, I think you're projecting a little.

-Yeah, I knew you can't do it.

-You boys :)

-That's it, let your hearts make the decision.

-Inuzuka Tsubasa did wound somebody's heart.

-"What the fuck do I do...?"

-Oniga Parking Garage.

-It's time for a duel to the death.

-Kijino's having a serious fit.

-I guess their identities haven't registered yet to each other.

-Jesus Christ, this should be completely stupid and asinine, and yet...

-Sononiiiiii!

-And she's down!

-Even Kijino's horrified.

-Ah yep, praise man. Right on cue.

-Companion time!

-Avatar Change!

-Matsuri-da!

-LET'S FUCKING GO!

-Holy shit, Tarou

-He said a nice thing :)

-Sononi :(

-Oooooooh, I recognize this set up.

-It's identical to how Yuka died at the beginning of Faiz.

-C'mon girl, don't slip.

-Noooooooooo :(

-Nooooo

-KAITO YOU GOTTA HELP US MAN

-He's almost completely back at square one.

-Fuck, man...

-Hello, Auntie Yuriko.

-What's up, Haruka? I only mentioned you once the whole episode!

-Bedtime?

-Inuzuka Tsubasa! He was with us all along!

-Wanchan! Pupper!

-We're takin' it outta town!

-The sight of our next grand battle! Quite possibly our grandest contest of strength yet!

-S

-SONOGO AND SONOROKU

-Oh, everybody's together! Right after Tsubasa said he never wanted to see Sononi again.

-Two villages!

-A whole squad of assholes all ready to pound down!

#don! don! it's a full force peachy festival! #donbrothers #donbrothers spoilers #avataro sentai donbrothers

[ikesenhell]

A Sun Long Gone, Chapter Six

You can find all masterlists at the top of my page (AO3, Genshin Impact, Ikemen Sengoku, and Ikemen Vampire). NOTES: This work is 18+. VERY NOT SAFE FOR WORK. VERY NOT SAFE FOR WORK. VERY NOT SAFE FOR WORK. Yeah this entire chapter is basically smut. My bad. Oh yeah I guess there are emotions too--

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The rain beat endlessly away outside. It made waterfalls out of her windows and a roar on the ceiling tiles. On days like these, Rukkhadevata ordinarily read or planned out improvements to infrastructure. Now? Her hands were too busy shaking as she waited on her bed for Dainsleif to return. 

What was she doing?

Pulling her knees to her chest, Rukkhadevata did her best to breathe away the worst of the nervous energy. Her room felt like another world. She could smell that winter-clean cologne everywhere. His shoes were stacked neatly beside her own; his clothes, meticulously folded under a window. A book he'd leafed through earlier that day still sat on a cushion under the window. And now he was in her bathroom, making himself ready for her. 

Celestia help her. She folded her hands over her mouth and tried not to laugh from pent-up nerves. What was she supposed to do? Was there a series of steps one traditionally took before losing their virginity? (That was a trap question, she realized half a beat later; there were so many amorphous definitions for 'virginity' or the loss thereof, all highly subjective, and the ritual surrounding that was equally reliant on the circumstances surrounding one's background or creed or ethnicity, to start.) Was there something she ought to be doing, rather than sitting in a half-opened robe on her own bed and working herself into a tizzy? 

As if on cue, Dainsleif entered the room once more. His shaggy blonde hair was pulled back in the tiny ponytail she found so cute, hands freshly washed. He hadn't gotten dressed today either. Only those tighter shorts– boxers, if she remembered right–lay between her and the rest of him. He was so fascinating to look at; so much paler than most, with slender scars in dazzling arrays of impossible white on his shoulders and arms. They were like veins of a crystal. All of him was long, and lean, built for distance and speed more than sheer power. She liked that. She liked guessing at the training made manifest through the contours of his ribs and abs and hips. Maybe one day she would ask for specifics, learn what shaped him into the person that fit so warmly in her arms. 

For now? He looked at her and smiled. 

"You should put up your hair."

"Oh? I thought you might’ve liked to keep it down. You're very fond of it."

"You're right. I am." Dainsleif put a knee into the bed. Her stomach flipped into giddy knots at the weight. Celestia. This was really going to happen. "But I assume you might prefer that it be up for this."

"Please, tell me your thoughts."

There was a way he handled her hair in particular that rendered Rukkhadevata senseless. He didn't even seem to think anything of it. No artifice colored him. He scooped a handful of her tresses like a man in the presence of an oasis; shut his eyes to block out everything else; pressed his mouth so firmly against it that she wondered if anything else could be called worship. What a chief irony, that a Khaenri’ahn served as the model of unabashed devotion. 

“You could leave it down,” he murmured. Her hair slid out of his fingers inch by inch. Dainsleif watched it fall. Had a man ever looked so enchanted before? If there was a single expression Rukkhadevata wanted burned in her mind, she hoped Irminsul and Erosion would be so kind as to leave her this one. “But I imagine by the end that it might be a tangled mess, and I don’t know how difficult that would be to fix.”

He had a point. That aside, it would be difficult to explain the snarl away to Jyoti. But Rukkhadevata couldn’t let it go without a sigh and a teasing, “Well then, I suppose I’d just have to command you to fix it afterward.”

“Ah. You see, that would be a problem.” Settling in beside her, Dainsleif brushed his nose against her ear, whispering, “We Khaenri’ahns don’t have a good track record of taking orders from gods.”

Shivers and laughter and nerves shot themselves in every direction of her body. Unfair. His voice was unfair; his charming smirk, unfair; the way he chuckled as she smacked his chest with her hand, unfair. Rukkhadevata wanted him to pounce and take her immediately. 

“Fine then! Give me a bit. I’ll go ahead and put it up.”

“I’ll help you.”

“Oh? Do you know how to braid?”

“Only a little. I’ll do my best. I suppose you can tax me in this way instead.”

She gathered up a brush and some hair ties, a few pins, and settled back into his lap. Despite his inexperience, Dainsleif didn’t need much direction. He immediately set to work, humming a tune she didn’t know. This wasn’t what she’d expected for foreplay. It was almost agonizingly intimate. Certainly, they’d been wound up together all morning, but now she was terribly aware of the fact that his boxers separated them by mere fractions. Curiosity stirred. Vague notions of growing versus showing (or whatever mnemonic device people used about penis size fluctuations) floated around her mind. What was she in for? Rukkhadevata stilled, tried to divine what was in store, and laughed only a beat later at how ridiculous the entire notion seemed. 

Dainsleif chuckled, carded through part of her hair, and said, “Nervous?”

Oh no. Could he tell? Was it that obvious? Rukkhadevata giggled and covered her face. “How do you know?”

“You’re shaking.”

“Still? I thought it was better.”

“It is better, but you’re still shaking a little.” The man planted a kiss on the crown of her head and took a hair band from her. “Is there anything you’d like me to do to set you more at ease?”

“No. I don’t think there’s much to be done for it. I suppose at this point only first-hand experience will settle me.”

“Is there anything in particular you want me to do or try? Positions or anything you might be curious about?”

She took a moment to sort through her thoughts. What did she want from this experience, exactly? Was it the fulfillment of a specific fantasy? Something she’d read in a book? No. Rukkhadevata craned her head back until she could see Dainsleif’s face. 

“I don’t want anything specific. I actually just want to experience the things you’d like to do to me.”

Something strangely solid bounced against her ass. It took her a moment to figure out what it was. Oh. Did he like that? Dainsleif’s ears burned a bright red. “This is a two-person experience, you know. I’d very much like to make you feel good.”

“I’ve no doubt of that. What I mean is that I don’t yet know what things will give me particular satisfaction. In lieu of just… picking something, I think I’d find it gratifying to know that you’re indulging in the things you’d like to do to me. That sounds…” Why did shame exist? It certainly tried to silence her now. Rukkhadevata giggled meekly, finalizing her sentence with, “That sounds, to me, um. Very thrilling.”

He’d definitely heard her. For some reason, he didn’t react. He simply scooped up the accessories to put up her hair, apparently finished with the task at hand. She waited uncertainly. Once he’d placed everything on the side table, Dainsleif turned back to her, scooped her legs over his arms, stood, and flopped her back onto the mattress. Rukkhadevata gasped when she bounced. 

“Oh–!”

And then he was on her. Somewhere in the tangle of limbs and mouths and him oh-so-gently tossing her braid up and away from them, her robe was peeled into the floor. A torrent of kisses rained ever southwards. His fingers curled up against her sex; Rukkhadevata bucked into his palm, lurching into his chest. A roughened finger pad rolled a circle around her clit and she almost yelled. It burned . It burned, and it felt so good, and yes she’d touched herself before, but something about how he did it made her thighs quake. 

“You’ll tell me when you want me to stop doing something, won’t you, pretty thing?” He sighed into her neck. “Tell me if you don’t like anything.”

“I– oh, ah– I– yes, I promise–” In fairness, there was little she wouldn’t agree to right now. One of those digits slid inside her. She choked down a squeak. 

“Can I bite you a little on your thigh, darling? I know we shouldn’t leave visible marks–”

Another finger was inside her before she could properly answer. Rukkhadevata didn’t know if she moaned or sobbed. Scrambling to answer him, she tangled a hand in his hair and pushed his face toward her leg. “It’s f-f-f-fine down there, you can–you can mark my thighs and hips–”

“Oh,” he said. Then–darker, breathier, he added, “Oh, good. ”

There were a fair few books she’d read on the links between pleasure and pain. Rukkhadevata had never once related to these texts. It simply didn’t line up with her experience of the world. Now? Dainsleif lavished her hip with a kiss and chased it with a forceful bite just as he hooked his fingers up into that one perfect place inside of her. She swore in at least two of Sumeru’s dialects; he laughed around a mouthful of skin, sucked , and gave the blossoming bruise an indulgent lick. Rukkhadevata couldn’t help it. He looked up at her–all dark lashes and teeth and electric blue eyes–and she added a third expletive for good measure. 

“Breathe, baby,” he purred. “I haven’t started yet.”

Before shame caught up with her, his face was between her thighs. Cunninglingus was not an unfamiliar concept. There were elements she’d expected: the initial shock of having a mouth close around her clit, the wildfire-fast pleasure from suction, his shoulders settling under her thighs comfortably. In a mindless haze she threaded her hand into his hair and gripped. She could feel him chuckle through her pussy. That it was expected did not diminish how fucking good it felt. 

Other elements were less anticipated. Rukkhadevata managed to watch him. Dainsleif’s nose rested on her pelvic bone, eyelashes casting a pretty shadow on his cheeks. He was so beautiful . Moonlight seemed to animate between her thighs. Trapping her legs in his elbows, Dainsleif put all his weight into keeping her still and opened his mouth with a greedy sigh. He’d wanted this. He’d wanted to do this to her. She whimpered. His gaze snapped open to her. 

“Doing alright, sweet thing?”

“Y-yeah.” Rukkhadevata stroked his hair to reassure him. He groaned, eyes rolling back, and she almost came into his mouth. “ Oh –”

And then he doubled down, and then she did , and it was so much and so alarming that she screamed. How long was it before she regained her senses? Too long. Once she did–panting and breathless–she realized she’d clamped her thighs down around his head. 

“I’m so sorry–” 

Dainsleif yanked his fingers out of her to grab either side of her knees, keeping her legs there, and kept going. Barely a minute later and again –his tongue and his mouth and the delicious friction and the way he wanted to be buried there ripped another orgasm free. 

Oh. Distantly, ‘ Have I been doing this wrong all these years ?’ drifted through her thoughts. Only once her body was trembling and all the nervous tension was gone from her did he sit up a little. 

“Alright there?” 

“Yes,” she slurred, then laughed at herself. “Yes. I’ve never been able to do that to myself.”

Settling his cheek into her thigh, Dainsleif smiled. It wasn’t the smug look he sometimes fixed her with (as charming as it was). No. Not this time. She’d never seen a man in love with her, but if Rukkhadevata had to guess… oh , that was a dangerous, dangerous, dangerous look. Every inch of her wanted to surrender to him. “It’s different when someone else does it for you, pretty thing. Do you want me to keep going down here, or…?”

Truth be told, she wasn’t sure. A thousand different ideas and incoherent pleas for just more zipped through her. At last, she gulped for air and shook her head. 

“No? Want me up there with you, pretty?”

Terrified and turned on, Rukkhadevata whimpered, “Please.”

“Want me to wash my face first, or–?”

Oh. Right. She realized that his mouth was shiny and slick from her orgasms. Did she care? How could she care? Senseless, she shook her head, reaching for him. Scarcely a second passed before he was in her arms, mouth on hers; he tasted a little tangy, almost sour; her hands wrapped around him with reckless abandon; dangerous, dangerous, dangerous ; no wonder he felt so dangerous to look at. She loved him. She loved him, and she knew better than to say so right now, but she’d never been so sure in her life. That look in his eyes when they parted was hypnotic and commanding and desperate. 

“Hands and knees for me, pretty thing,” he murmured. “It generally makes the first time hurt less.”

Rukkhadevata shook her head. “No. I’m too nervous, I want–is it silly that I want to see? I don’t know what to expect, so I’d feel better seeing–”

“Of course. You don’t need to convince me.”

Once again, she laid back. From here, Dainsleif seemed titanic. He stood up and hooked the boxers around his thumbs, peeling them downward until his cock sprung free. It made such a loud noise when it slapped him in the stomach that she blinked. How fascinating. All at once, she was the observer and the observed and so old and so young. She was not Lord Rukkhadevata; she was just a woman, and there was a man kneeling between her legs again, pressing a kiss to her knee and dragging her by her hips toward him. 

“Ready for me, pretty thing?” He asked. 

What did she do? He was so handsome, and she was still trembling, and he shot her that self-assured half-smile that utterly ruined her dreams, and the line of his abs looked suddenly tempting. She reached for him. “I–can I touch you when you first enter? I think I’ll feel better.”

Dainsleif took her wrist and placed her hand squarely against him. Her thumb skirted against the base of his cock. Oh . It was so strangely soft and hard at the same time. A row of muscle flexed as he lined himself along with her. “Of course, pretty thing. However you want to feel me. Ready?”

“Ready.”

He didn’t warn her before running his fingers over her clit. Later she realized this was intentional–the fraction of time where she loosened up from shock and hypersensitivity was enough to blunt the pain. Abs flexed under her palm; Rukkhadevata moaned and let her head drop back into the cushions. It was his turn to abandon a shared language. He pushed easily inside her; his native Khaenri’ahn was so, so pretty, his voice so low and gentle. She could recognize the vague outline of praise when she heard it. Another thrust. The dull discomfort of an object sliding inside of her melted away into delicious pressure. Her clit burned as he rolled it between his fingertips. Everything was hot and pulsing and electric and she grabbed desperately at his wrist. 

“Everything okay?”

“Wonderful,” she gasped, “Please– please –”

“Of course,” he sighed, and bent double to kiss her forehead. “Good, good girl. You’re doing so well.”

Eventually she was on her hands and knees for him. Later she would find indents of his fingertips where he’d gripped her hips; Rukkhadevata buried her face into the mattress and let him fuck her into it. He laughed when she came for the nth time and murmured something about You come so easy, pretty girl and kissed her shoulder blades and she cried from sheer pleasure into sheets that smelled like him. When she couldn’t hold herself up anymore, Dainsleif was back between her thighs, and when finally she was too spent to let him coax even one more orgasm out of her, he scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom. 

From the comfort of a warm bath she drank a full glass of cool water and curled into his chest as he tried to comb her hair back into shape once again. So much for braiding it. And so much for no visible marks –somewhere in the heat of the moment, Rukkhadevata bit down onto his neck so hard that there were clear tooth marks. He didn’t seem upset. In fact, he paused to inspect them in the mirror, looking a mite too pleased with himself.

“I’m sorry,” she said anyway.

Dainsleif shrugged and clambered back into the bath with her, placing a second glass of water in her hands. Her arms still trembled. He chuckled as she tried to lift it unaided. “I’m not especially sorry. I’ll gladly take whatever you give me.”

Something about that sounded so… final. She hesitated as he straddled her, guiding her to rest back against his chest. Truth be told, she understood the sentiment. Theirs was a complicated romance. He would die in a blink of an eye comparatively; she would bear the memories of the two of them for as long as she could carry them. Maybe their entanglement ended when the Khaenri’ahns went home. Maybe it went on, laboring in secrecy and uncertainty. There was no knowing. In all of the missing equation pieces–in all of the gaps where sorrow was a foregone conclusion–why did she keep any part of joy to herself?

She flipped around in his lap. He helped her with a gentle grip on her waist; she winced a little when lifting herself and he didn’t even try to look displeased. 

“How was that, pretty thing?” He said at last. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Handsome man. He was funny, and charming, and flawed. Rukkhadevata found him singular. Every inch of his title, in all of its regality and mystery and honor, suited him. It would be a cruel world that ever forced her to forget him. She lowered her glass and ran a damp hand over his hair. 

“I love you,” she said.

Dainsleif looked like he wanted to laugh. Rukkhadevata didn’t smile. He hesitated. 

“Are you being serious?”

“Deadly.”

She would never forget that moment. No one else could level her with their eyes like him. He was moonlight and ocean and winter; he was the northern lights; he was the sword and the twilight and the softness; he was his own people’s dream come true and the embodiment of their stories; and every time he looked at her, he looked at her as if he would hand her every bit of what made him him in exchange for her to keep looking back. Dainsleif worked his mouth open and shut, sacrificed words, and crushed her mouth against his. He still tasted like her. 

“Oh, good,” he muttered. “I was thinking the same thing earlier. Good.”

#ASLG #A Sun Long Gone #Genshin Impact #Genshin Fanfic #Genshin Dainsleif #Genshin Rukkhadevata #Dainsleif x Rukkhadevata #greater lord rukkhadevata #my writing #Dainsleif fanfic #Rukkhadevata fanfic

[theretirementstory]

Bonjour à tous, it’s a gorgeous day 26c and although I don’t want to be inside, I have jobs that need to be done!

Now what have I been up to this week 🤔, oh yes, I had a visit from a man from Orange (the phone people, not the City), he was explaining that I have to change to fibre as ADSL is on its way out. He had to come inside while we discussed things and as he wrote his name on paperwork I noted it was not a French name. It was Tunisian and as we had been speaking « Franglais » I remembered 4 words in Tunisian Arabic, he was quite impressed that I knew the word for stars and was able to bid him farewell in Tunisian too. As my dad would have said « No flies on me! »

It has been a week of catching up with friends, one who celebrated her birthday and then both her and her husband tested positive for Covid! I had a message from Monique, she had sorted some items for Ukrainian refugees and wanted to drop them off at my home. We had a lovely couple of hours , chatting about her grandchildren and mine, it was great to catch up. I met the Chief of Police in town and then as I called into the police office to pick up recycling bags she was joking about the new terrace on the front of the house, she said she has told her colleagues that I sit and drink cocktails there! After that (as I was stressing a bit) I called into the pharmacy to see if they were doing vaccinations again as I had looked to have a 4th Covid vaccination and the website only gave me towns dozens of kilometres away! Yes! I was added to the list and I received the telephone call on Friday and a rdv for this Thursday……. brilliant! I turned up at the bar on Wednesday morning even though I know he is closed, I did go along on Thursday evening to read the paper and have a coffee. I messaged Pauline, she is enjoying her work so much. Unfortunately, her grandmother did contract Covid but not from Pauline…. She is feeling better now.

It was the barbecue for the refugees on Wednesday. I was told it was at midi, however the barbecue was just getting fired up then, I was sat with the refugees and couldn’t see any other volunteers there, it turned out they were in the kitchen preparing the food, I maybe should have been up there too but no-one told me that! There was so much food and food parcels of chicken, sausage and merguez were given out at the end . It was a wonderful way to pass an afternoon, the weather was very good too. The lady who had been refused « right to remain » for a second time was telling me on Friday, that they have been given until the end of July in their apartment and then they will be moved to temporary accommodation before going who knows where! She is the lady who is pregnant with her second child, due in November, I am sure she could do without all this stress. I am busy knitting something for the new baby before they go.

I have been preparing my « speech » for Tuesday afternoon, I need to speak it aloud to make sure I have the pronunciation correct. Laëtitia is calling by on Monday evening so I will be able to practice it then too.

It’s official, I have a date to come over to the UK I need to try and book the accommodation tomorrow otherwise I will be well and truly snookered! I am going to be looking after my granddaughter for a few mornings but I am sure we will be able to fill that time in with playing etc.

Excerpt from July by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

I am for the open meadows,

Open meadows full of sun,

Where the hot bee hugs the clover,

The hot breezes drop and run.

How have we arrived at the seventh month of the year so quickly? My grandson will be celebrating his first birthday soon, wow I can’t wait to see the little chap again. I also cannot wait to see my « big men », my DiL and my gorgeous granddaughter.

See you next time!

#barsuraube #nature #trees #skies #photography #crafts #baking #livingthedream