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treasureofmammon · 5 months

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Random mammon headcannon i want to share

He gets bad nightmares about you dying so sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat and crying. He normally cleans himself up as he sprints to your room in the middle of the night, needing to know if your ok.

Once he sees you sleeping and alive, he fixes your blanket and sits by your bed, resting his head on the bed as he stares at you. he eventually falls asleep looking at you, you have found mammon sleeping next to your bed multiple times but you he never tells you the real reason he was there

@ezracorner1

First off, I'm sorry. Honestly, I'm still figuring out how Tumblr works and realized late how to see Asks, and then I took my time to respond to you. I hope you can forgive me. I'm on my 20s, but I act like an old woman, apparently. Lol.

I took the liberty to make a short story about thiiiiissss!!!! After all, my sweet demons were on a war, they have some unresolved things to talk about and heal. They are obviously overprotective; so with a sweet little and weak lamb like us, they probably go over the top. I LOVE THE IDEA! Although I HATE the fact they probably live with PTSD, hence where the nightmares come from 😪

✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛

Warnings: Flashbacks and topics related to war and death. Hints to mental illnesses. Obvious attraction, but not an established relationship (yet). Angst at the beginning, but also, tenderness and care. I took some creative liberties since I haven't read some parts of the story (struggling to get UR cards), so some details might change from the OG storyline. Finally, I didn't check the syntaxes of the paragraphs so much. Sorry if some stuff doesn't make a lot of sense.

*I apologize in advance for what y'all might read, I absolutely love to write, but I'm not such a good writer. Lol*

[Note: Mammon x Gn!Neutral reader. Spoilers ahead- English is not my first language, so there might be orthographic and syntax errors - The following characters belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date" and are owned by Solmare Corporation. This is a mere work of fan-fiction. I took some creative liberty].

✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛

Nightmares and dreams

Mammon looks at his right, familiar faces, that he once called "siblings", shattering his other loved ones forever. Their comrades and family's expressions suddenly realize that their existence, one that could be eternal, are brought to an abrupt end at that exact moment. And some of them, many even, look at Mammon with despair, lost and afraid of their own death.

His almost extinct battalion, who he commanded, conformed by his little brothers and sisters that he once witnessed brought to life in a blow of Father's breath, forever gone. Some of them he watched grow up, hugged, played, spoiled, and then... trained. Not anymore. No clue will lay in history that they existed, no irrefutable proof of who they were.

Mammon's eyes widen in horror, mouth open in surprise.

He then looks around and catches in a glimpse a spear that falls graceful and fairly as a punisher of the traitors, hovering over Asmodeus, unerring.

—No. Not Asmodeus, not him!—

Mammon runs faster than the light and slides himself with his younger brother in his arms, successfully saving him from the imminent death. Mammon sighs and thinks it's fine now, but immediately, a penetrating scream is heard, and Beel and Belphie shred tears. The time freezes: all of them stop, every single one of the angels stops, the arrows fall to the green grass, and a new flurry of arrows never comes.

—Lilith... No!—.

Lucifer takes her in his arms, but the ground immediately opens, and both fall. Lucifer's wings turn black, and horns come out of his head as he descends in rapid speed; his halo is lost on the battlefield until Michael takes it with him as a prize for nothing.

Mammon follows them without a second thought, loyal as always, worried like the second brother he is, launching himself to a fall to a who-knows-where place.

As he falls, flames consume his body, his wings burn down to his core, his white robe dissipates, his halo turns in ashes and his head throbs in pain while he feels two horns that grow from it. But he doesn't lose sight of Lucifer and of Lilith's face. Except now is not Lilith's is yours.

Mammon loses his mind: the abyss he falls in turns pitch black, swallowing Lucifer and Lilith in his arms. He has a sinking feeling in his gut and screams, not scared of his own life, but scared of Lucifer's, Lilith's, and yours until his slim body finally bursts against the ground. The room is still completely dark. Shyly, he stands up, —Lucifer? Lilith?—, he calls.

Suddenly, a reflector light turns on. You are right below it, lighted up like a star. The yellowish rays touch your silhouette gracefully as if you were an angel yourself. Beautiful. Candid. Endearing.

—MC? —

You turn around to look at him and smile tenderly, like you usually do. His heart melts. For a short moment, his worries dissappear and he smiles back. He walks to you, enchanted by your bright soul.

Until a pair of claws dig in your back. Your scream never heard. In a gasp, you fall to the ground, bloody, and a set of glowing purple eyes withdrawn into the emptiness of the never-ending darkness of the room.

—NO!— Mammon screams and rushes to you, your face now lifeless, while blood scapes your body. He cries your name, but there's no response. Suddenly, a familiar voice chants: —This is your fault! She died because of you!—. A new figure emerges from the blackness.

—Lucifer?—

—No—, finally revealing his identity, —I'm you—. Mammon's own face responds back.

Mammon's eyes open wide suddenly. Awake, gasping and panting, scared, drowned in his own sweat. He sits in his bed and takes his forehead in his hands. A nightmare.

Mammon feels his heart pace altered. And he tries to calm down.

—It was just a nightmare... right? It felt too damn real. They're here, they're just asleep, they ain't death, right?—

Rationally, Mammon knows he had a bad dream, but a part of him drags him to unreality, so he jumps out of bed, leaves his room, and makes his way to yours. On the short path, he takes his shirt off and notices that even his torso is dripping in sweat, but he manages to clean his face with his wet shirt.

Slowly and carefully, he opens the door of your room, still gasping for air, now in a much more stable breathing pace. When the door is open enough, he peeks inside your room, there, you lay in bed tranquil, your face expression at peace, and your chest slowly moving up and down, asleep.

—Thanks Lilith...—, he whispers and lets himself in your room, knowing that once again, as usual after dreaming your passing, he might be violating your space and the sanctity of your placid sleep. But, he does it anyway. You're his human, after all.

Mammon stands for a short while, looking at you, making sure you're real and safe. He fixes your blanket, covering you well. Then, quietly, he drags your desk's chair to your bed's side and sits, watching you dream your own dreams, snoring softly, comfortable, and even happy.

—I love ya—, he whispers and observes you until his eyelids can't stay open, his head resting right next to your hand.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, Mammon is lying right next to you, uncomfortable. You sigh, thinking that it's happening again.

Gently, you reach to his hand, and he wakes up in a jump, confused and scared.

—MC?—

This time, you don't ask a thing. You just pull his hand to you, and he gets the hint, half asleep, not sure if you inviting him to share the bed is another dream that feels too real again or reality itself.

Mammon nuzzles against your chest, and you throw your arms around him after covering him up with your blanket, too; then, you kiss his temple, trying to convey all your emotions in one little peck.

—I have no idea why you do this— you admit, —but I don't mind sharing my bed with you, Mammon; after all, I love you—.

Your love confession, unheard. For now, that's okay, as long as you can hold your best friend and crush on your arms as if you were lovers already.

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ziggyhadathought · 9 months

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I don’t know if it’s bad writing or hinting at rhysand’s character but the descriptions of feyre’s outfit UTM where she is sa’d, degraded and roofied and the description of her outfit when mate introduces her to part of his court leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

“nearly identical to those I had been forced to wear Under the Mountain.”

(ACOMAF)

“my hair onto a crown atop my head—right behind the black diadem”

(ACOMAF)

“my hair coiled around a small gold diadem”

(ACOTAR)

“my face adorned with cosmetics rouge on my lips… kohl lining my eyes”

(ACOTAR)

“vicious line of kohl at the outer corner of each. My lips she’d painted bloodred.”

(ACOMAF)

It’s like she’s physically still there. Why is she in the same clothes she could have skimpy clothes to sell be bit but not a replica. he knows how uncomfortable feyre was before

__________________________________________

“Good. They should be afraid of them.Afraid of me.”

(ACOMAF)

This I think is kinda sad because they are not afraid of her they are afraid of rhysand. The only reason she is somewhat safe is because of rhysand’s reputation. This scene is supposed to show where feyre becomes sexually empowered there is a section where she imagines them calling her a whore and she learns to ignore it comparing it to the music. But all rhysand does here is present her in the same way amarantha presented her while UTM.

__________________________________________

“And with a tug on my waist, he perched me on his lap.The High Lord’s whore.”

(ACOMAF)

She is still a doll. There is so much weight put on names and titles in this series and in other maas books so I find it a bit distasteful that rhysand’s trigger is used here. It’s the one phrase that is shown to deeply effect rhysand and one of the few times his sexual trauma is even mentioned. I know it’s all a part of there ruse and it’s just a trick but it’s strange.

“That every male in here is contemplating what they’d be willing to give up in order to get that pretty, red mouth of yours on them”

(ACOMAF)

There could have been so many other things said here about how they are all bowing to her and they are worthless and she could kill them if she wanted but he reduces her to only sexual power, she is something to be consumed. And I see that he can be trying to make her more confident in her own body.

Yes she is sat on the throne but she’s in his lap he is always that barrier between her and power this is seen in later books when rhysand ordered the IC to withhold information from feyre even though she is the high lady and it was pertaining to her body. They are mates and supposedly equal but the chain of command is never altered.

“He’d apologized in advance for it—for this game, these roles we’d have to play.”

(ACOMAF)

I really despise how it is suggested that this was the only way they could have gotten the orb, rhysand didn’t need to have her on his lap or lick her. He’s 500 years old and he couldn’t conjure up a better plan than extended foreplay.

“But it seems true: Tamlin’s pet is now owned by another master.”

(ACOMAF)

From a political standpoint why would he want such an important figure thought of as a private escort? This takes away all of her credibility to the illyrians. It is trained into the illyrians that females purity is currency and their bodies a commodity so how is this smart. If I was a misogynistic warrior who sees humans as scum my highlord grinding on a woman clothed in scraps wouldn’t convince me of her political prowess.

“The Steward was staring unabashedly as he leaned against the wall. Unsure whether to interrupt. Half terrified to. We were his distraction. We were the sleight of hand while Az stole the orb.”

(ACOMAF)

HOW THE HECK WAS THIS THE BEST PLAN THEY COULD COME UP WITH!!!????

who was their sacrificial sex doll before Feyre 👀?

#acotar critical #feyre archeron #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #feyre x rhysand #high lady feyre #thecourtofnightmares #hewn city #anti rhysand #high lord rhysand #a court of mist and fury

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legendary-guest · 1 month

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My secret crack pairing is Motor Ed/DNAmy.

Amy already has great taste in men, there's nothing that needs to be altered on her end to get her to find him attractive. Well, what about Ed?

It's her chassis. It's huge. Her assets. You know. She's so forward, too, it really doesn't take a lot from him to get her to go along with things.

I imagine a first encounter would induce such extreme second-hand embarrassment to anyone who happens to be around them. Here is one version.

Who approaches whom - Ed. He's busy 'window shopping' in that café in Graduation, since he attended the ceremony. He needs a pick-me-up after seeing Green and cousin Drew practically hook-up on stage. Yeah, yeah, more fish in the sea but, ugh, where's he gonna find another babe like that? She fought him with that green magic and had long, beautiful black hair and her bo - Whoa.

He spots her.

Seriously. She's not a 10, but she's enough - actually, more than enough - a rejection is unlikely. He's played this game before.

One of two things could happen - she reciprocates his advances, or she turns him down. Turning him down would mean that Motor Ed would, potentially, have to compete for her attentions with the petrified corpse of a genetically altered British man obsessed with monkeys. This is insanely funny, and would be awesome. The girl he really wants is with his cousin with a receding hairline, and being rejected by a woman he is settling for could hurt his ego enough, incense him enough to really, truly pursue her. Besides, what does that - what - thing have that he doesn't? He's tall, he's tan, he's smart, he's handsome, he has an awesome mullet. What, she likes hairy guys? He's a hairy guy! Just take a look, seriously.

Option two is she reciprocates. Now, she may be committed to pursuing Monty, committed to him emotionally, but now that she's got him...what's one more? After all, after she completed her collection of Cuddle Buddies, she felt the need to make her own! She openly flirts with Mr. Barkin and even lead on Dr. Drakken. There's no way this woman doesn't go astray every now and again (frequently). He's cute, sure, but is he smart? O, he's a mechanical engineer - maybe she has heard of him - best in the country! She's a geneticist, she says, which leads into Ed using a rather awful pick-up line about not having taken biology in forever and needing a tutor.

O, doctor, it would be my pleasure. Ending the sentence with a girlish giggle and a punch to his arm. The punch doesn't hurt, but she's got some strength to her! He makes a comment about how he likes a girl that can scrap - then she really comes on to him, hand on his chest, eyes half-lidded. She tells him, in as many words, she can be real bad if that's what he really likes.

Ed likes where this is going. Really, really likes where this is going. Seriously.

It's clear that this conversation needs a change of scenery. Before they run off, she mentions that they can't leave behind Monty. Who? O, this thing. He decides to show off, picks up Monkey Fist's statue in one easy gesture it's built weird, he thinks, and sure, it's on the heavier side of things he can lift for extended periods of time, but he's got that adrenaline in him right now and she's looking up at him in awe, in surprise, and then...well, they gotta get going!

#motor ed #dnamy #amy hall #kp villains #kim possible #DNed #I had this under a read more then thought #No #This is my blog #You will be subjected to my posts if you follow #They are funny and cute to me

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chain-link-smut · 7 months

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Hello Beautiful Beasties!

Smut-tember 23, Day 26: Twilight x Reader(Male) - Taverns Alley

Summary: Warding off the taverns working gals who only wanted to give company in exchange for money, you find yourself making a move that you wouldn't have done drunk. it works, but now there's a new 'problem' and it is between your legs. The dark alley doesn't do much to hide you from the voyeur eyes, but you weren't the only one who couldn't wait and didn't mind lookers.

Word count: 1,904

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the night still young and a few restless Chain members relentlessly nagging, you were dragged off to a nearby bar in town. There was nothing special about the place: packed with too many people, the smell of cheap ale and stale cigars. Not exactly the scene you liked to be in, but a few drinks weren’t going to hurt.

Hyrule dragged a grumbling Legend to a dart board, Four following. Sky, War, Twi and yourself sat at a table chit chatting about home and what we planned on doing when we all got back. Warriors made sure that there was a steady flow of drinks and shots coming to the table, but with that came the women who worked in the upstairs part of the bar.

“Well look here what the cat dragged in.” A woman with red hair said as she touched your shoulder, three other women with her, each of them hovering near the others. Sky politely told the black haired woman that he was engaged as Warriors leaned closer into the blond that was flaunting her very full chest to him. Twilight simply said no thanks and you just shied away from the contact.

You wished that was the only time that happened. Throughout the night multiple women and sometimes the same ones would come over to flirt and give free drinks. Warriors, every time a free drink was sat down on the table, would drip a drop of some kind of oil into the drink to make sure it wasn't drugged. None were, but it still made you uneasy. Well, uneasy for more than one reason.

"Sugar, why won't you come play with us?" A string of white feathers were tossed around the back of your neck. The woman was very pretty with her red corset top and high front skirt, but it was still a no for you.

The young lady that was by the other's side ran her palms down your chest, inching closer to your groin. "We could show you a good time~"

You grabbed Twilight's pant leg that was closest to you, not knowing what else to do. Twilight cleared his throat, “Ladies, he has kindly declined your advances. Please don’t make us seek business elsewhere.” The two ladies stuck their nose up in the air and walked away.

Sheepishly you looked over at Twi. “Thank you.” He only gave a warm smile.

“I don’t get it.” Warriors laughed. “You have had double, if not triple, the attention yet I’m the Ladies Man.”

Sky elbowed Wars playfully. “Maybe someone stole your pretty boy title.”

“Oooh no, no.” You waved your hands in front of you. “That is a title I don't want.”

“What’s wrong with that title?” Warriors mock offense had you loosening back up. “Why do you turn all of them away?”

Head a little fuzzy from the four pints and six shots, you spill your secret. “I prefer the company of men.”

The silence from the others made you want to shrink to the size of a mouse so you could scurry away undetected. That was until Warriors raised his glass saying, “Hey, about time the club got bigger.” He clicked his glass with yours. “And you owe me money.” He laid his hand out to Sky.

Sky rolled his eyes and dropped a small coin bag into the waiting palm. Twilight leaned a little closer. “Sky thought you would take longer to spill. Wars betted on alcohol would loosen you up to tell us.”

Slapping a hand to your face, you asked, “You all knew?”

Twilight’s carefree laugh told you all you needed to know. “Most of us either dance on both sides of the line: Wars, Legend, Wild and Time, or stay true to one side weather its the same or opposite side of the line.” Twilight gave you a look that sent your heart racing. With his wolf-like hearing, there was no way he didn’t hear it.

Celebrating the victory of being correct, Wars ordered too many drinks for the four of them to handle, though you all drank as much as you could. Him and Sky took (stumbled their way) the extras to the three still throwing darts. That left Twi and you at the table to watch the clumsy two walk off. Unfortunately, the unwanted company came back around, preying on the drunks, but this time it was Twilight in the eyes of the women. How strange it was to see Twilight, the apex predator, being stoked like livestock. Repulsive really.

So when an unsavory hand was combed through his hair like you always wanted to, you bared your teeth, took his face between your hands and had his lips crashing to your own. Twi made a startled noise, but it turned into a sound of enjoyment as he placed his hands on your elbows.

Breaking free of the exchange, you covered your mouth. “I’m sorry!” You feared you had crossed the line doing the simple kiss. You could have blamed it on the ale, but it wasn’t true. “It was the first thing to come to mind w-when she came around and- and oh my goddess you are now going to hate me!”

Your thoughts didn’t allow you to hear anything he was saying, if he even said anything at all, but he didn’t have to say anything for you to understand that he forgave you. He grabbed the belt that laid across your chest and brought you closer, lips parting to give you permission to advance.

Tender, soft lips coaxed you forward with chaste little kisses that made small click sounds when separating. When you moaned into Twilight’s mouth, he pulled away just far enough to look into your eyes. He watched you closing while a warm hand made its way up your leg. Your cheeks had a healthy flush across them and you tried not to groan when his hand cupped over the prominent bulge in your trousers.

You whined when his hand suddenly disappeared, but his words lit a fire inside that needed to be put out. “Let’s get out of here.” He took your hand to lead you not out the way you entered, but the back door.

The full moon gave a silver lighting that made Twilight’s marking and eyes glow. The back alley door closed and gave the illusion of privacy. You threw your arms around his neck, drawing him towards you as your back hit the brick wall of the tavern. The taste of ale was heavy on Twilight’s lips, but you could still get hints of his natural taste and it made you feel more drunk than you already were. There was no getting enough of him even as he pressed his own erection to yours, hands searching for skin to hold.

There was noise to either side of you that caught both of your attention quickly. You two weren't alone. There were others with the same idea as you, already fulfilling their desires with one, two or even three other people at once and preferences didn't matter. It was a free for all.

Getting your attention back, Twilight sank to his knees and began to unlace your trousers and pulled out the prize you had confined. Never would you have thought or dreamed of Twilight on his knees between your legs, your cock in his hand as he stoked you and mouthed at your base. His eyes were glassy, want begging in those blues. When the first bit of pre lazily dribbled out, he swiped his thumb over your slit and spread the clear liquid over the head of your swollen cock.

You had to grip the wall behind you when a wet heat took you in, sucking, slurping and swallowing around you. You were by no means small, so to see your own cock disappear into Twi’s mouth and down his throat, stretching his lips out around you, was an erotic scene that you couldn’t turn away from the sight.

He bobbed and moaned around you, shooting vibrations like electricity throughout your lower body. Saliva coated not only what his mouth touched, but also his hands that were keeping the rhythm at the base. Spit string stayed connected to his lower lip, a bit of it flowing onto his chin.

“Don’t stop…” You whispered while pushing his bangs away. Not realizing that those two words were taken as a challenge, Twilight had you back in his mouth all the way to the root, his nose in your curls, purposely making himself choke (not gag) around you. It gave you the confidence to start rolling your hips. He opened his mouth enough to keep steady friction all the way around you and kept his teeth tucked under his lips as you unapologetically took purely your own pleasure into consideration.

“T-Twi I- I’m…!!” You pressed forward all the way into his mouth, cumming down his throat. The feeling of overstimulation had you hissing and him pulling away to stand on his feet.

He smeared the remnants of your release and his saliva onto the back of his hand. The wolfish eyes on you made you shiver in your boots. His voice was graveled when he spoke. “I want you.”

Strictly a bottom, you shoved your trousers down below your knees, turned around, and wiggled your ass in a, “Come and get it” kind of way. Rough hands spread you wide, thumb tracing over your entrance.

You let out a choked off holler turned into a grunt and it was now your turn to catch others attention. Cheers and claps from a few nearby voyeur pleasure seekers erupted as Twilight sought after his own gratification in fucking you. You were thankful that the drinks you had inside had numbed your sense of pain or else this would have been different.

The feeling of him stretching you open, filling you up, bruising grip on your hips and his thick cock head abusing your prostate was ramping you right back up quickly. Twilight changed his grip by wrapping an arm around your lower torso, making it so he had more control over the movements. His canine teeth scraped along the soft skin behind your ear before nipping the flushed tip of your pointed ear.

“I can tell you are wanting to cum again for me. Go ahead.” His left hand closed around you leaking cock, pumping it faster than his own thrusts into you.

You were at his mercy and it didn’t take long for you to spill white across the red bricks your cock was aimed at. Your hole clenched and spasmed around Twilight, making you even tighter for him. He groaned explicits into your skin as his cock flexed inside you over and over until he was empty.

He encompassed you with gentle arms, both catching your breath and laughing at the situation and scene still going on around you. He pulled your clothes back up , fastening them to how they were, before tucking himself back in. He spun you around and kissed you again.

You smirked at a thought. “Wanna see if the tavern has an open room for the rest of the night for us to continue this?” If you two didn’t have to go past a few of the others in your group, he would have slung you over his shoulder and demanded a room right away.

Keep it Naughty you Beautiful Beasties!🖤

#loz smut #purely smut #smut-tember #st23 #18+ only #twi x reader #twilight x reader #drunk #public smut

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soopsiedaisies · 4 months

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potter, james potter

@roalinda @lovelymasks

“Potter, James Potter” is basically a Spy x Family au. A super-spy from a country that is vaguely based on Berlin Wall!western europe (Westalis) has to go undercover in a country that is vaguely based on East-Germany (Ostania), in order to ensure there’s no new war starting. He has to assume a new identity, acquire a child, enrol the child in a prestigious school, and make contact with the Main Guy who’s a big danger to a new war starting, Abraxas. He also has to get married. It’s a found family but an actual family, basically.

James Potter (code name: Prongs; most talented spy of the Order of the Phoenix, the intelligence agency; professional liar) is a psychiatrist who adopts a little orphan boy called Harry. Harry can read minds. James does not know this. Harry’s also four, not six; James does not know this either. But he’s ‘papa’ now and he takes this task very seriously.

In order for little mind-reading Harry to enrol in the super elite school, James also needs to be married. His informant Franky Franklin Severus Snape tries to help him with this but Severus doesn’t make a convincing woman (to Harry’s amusement). Enter Sirius Black, code name ‘Padfoot’: a regular guy who is terrified to be seen as a spy, and who needs a boyfriend/husband ASAP. He’s also one of the best Assassins in the country, but nobody knows this. They get engaged in a very beautiful scene filled with dead criminals and an exploding grenade. It’s all very romantic.

Anyway then they’re a family and it’s a whole fluff fest. The whole family loves each other to pieces (“For the mission” - Agent Prongs) but They Do Not Know about the secret identities. An idyllic family of Liars. Harry (very advanced for his actual age) hates studying but needs to in order to advance in school. Harry also punches Draco (very annoying; son of the guy James needs to stop) on the first day of school. He’s one step closer to expulsion every time he enters the school and it stresses James out So Much because Harry needs to remain in school because the mission would fail otherwise. Sirius is mainly stressed about being a Good Husband (he doesn’t know how). Snape is a reluctant fun uncle. Also Lily is like the Head Spy of the Order.

Regulus (raised by Sirius and obsessed with Sirius) also has a secret identity: he’s part of the secret service. He Hates James so much. Despises him, really. James is not worthy of Sirius. He’s got a bit of a brother complex/daddy complex.

Also James figures out that Regulus is part of the Secret Service the moment Regulus tries to ‘get to know’ him. James cannot, for the life of him, figure out that Sirius (the husband he’s with for several hours every day) is an assassin. James panics when he thinks Sirius is mad at him (for the mission). Love makes blind, I guess.

Here’s a snippet:

James Potter walks past bags of rubbish and through rotting, rusted gates, approaches the doors of a rather dilapidated building without a hint of anxiety. Wool’s Orphanage isn’t exactly the height of luxury, but it’s for the best: these children are scarred and quiet and likely hardworking, easy to forge a background for. He would know.

The Matron, an older woman who calls herself Mrs Cole, is drunk. The children may be fed and dry and clean, but they all look miserable and frightened. Prongs—James asks for the smartest kid of the lot, one who can at least read and write. Matron doesn’t seem to have to think for long before leading him to one of the many cramped little rooms, and then gestures at a little boy who can’t be older than four.

“I’m six,” says the boy immediately, rocking back and forth on his feet. He’s cute, in that way a ragged animal with torn ears is cute. His eyes are massive and green, his black hair is a mess, his features are sharp. “I’m Harry.”

“He doesn’t look six,” says James. Can he even read yet?

“I guess.” Mrs Cole sniffs. “Smartest of the lot though. Can do the crossword—”

Harry procures a puzzle book and a pencil from somewhere, sits down, and begins to scribble. It’s not a particularly hard crossword for a trained spy such as himself, and Prongs can answer several hints correctly with nary a glance; but then Harry holds the crossword up, triumphant, and Prongs sees it’s all filled in correctly.

He does not goggle. Spies do not goggle.

“I’ll take him,” he tells the boozed-up Matron. The wording does not leave a bad taste in his mouth. That’s been trained out of him.

“Brilliant,” says Mrs Cole. She looks sickly pleased to have Harry taken off her hands. “I’ll get the papers ready.”

#prongsfoot #my writing #wip game #i love sxf so much and it actually lends itself quite well to hp #james potter #harry potter #long-ish post

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samptlay · 1 month

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To My Sweetheart Who Carries A Wounded Heart Ch. 9

Series Masterlist, Chapter 1 🤍, Chapter 2 🖤, Chapter 3 🤍, Chapter 4🖤, Chapter 5🤍, Chapter 6🖤, Chapter 7🤍, Blade & Reader's Relationship, Chapter 8🖤

Lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, saying he had a lot on his mind would be an understatement. For some reason, His boss had given him off today a whole week in advance because “he’d be needed somewhere else.” Elio seemed to be 10 steps ahead of everything, so he didn’t question it. But what he did question is the fact that something bad happened to you, and he had time off the exact next day, which was only ever occasional. Did Elio have anything to do with your mental health? Did he play a factor in this?

No, although Blade knew the work he did was questionable and sometimes on the radar of the authorities, he knew his boss would never do something to cause people harm. (This wasn’t true, but he wouldn’t do anything that wouldn’t benefit him or proved to be unnecessary.) But Blade swears that Elio could foresee things others can’t.

But then does that mean this is a sign? He hadn’t realized it until after he called Herta personally, informing her of the situation you had faced recently so that you could take it easy for a while. He wasn’t surprised when Herta was questioning why Blade was calling in for you, not your husband. He simply answered that it was a hard time for the couple and that he was just looking out for both. But she knew that Blade did care one bit for your husband, he proved so time & time again.

That was about two hours ago, and when Blade got up from the black sheets to go get ready for work, both Kafka & Silver Wolf messaged him through a group chat that was created by S.W. when they first started working together. He had never been the best with technology, though he’s no boomer, suffice to say. Picking up the device, he unlocked it to see what they wanted.

Baldie: What’s so important that you two need to spam me while I’m supposed to have a day off? User-Banned: you weren’t at work today so I hijacked my way into your calendar, didn’t know you had work off today.

He still rolls his eyes every time he reads that name. Unfortunately, no matter how many times he changed it, Silver Wolf always made her way into the system to change it back. He just let it be at that point.

Black Widow: I’m sure Elio was the one who scheduled it, with everything that’s happened, you get time off. I’m assuming you also contacted her boss? How thoughtful of you, Bladie. Baldie: How did you even- Nevermind. What do you need? User-Banned: well on the work, Kafka noticed Levi’s car while she was on the highway. Spider Lady found it weird that he was anywhere but home with the woman who holds your heart, (AKA, (Y/N), ofc.) Just to drive up a bit more and see another woman in the passenger seat.

Did he read that right? Sitting on the bed, he blinked twice before looking at the slightly dimmed screen again with eyebrows raised as he finally found the courage to sit up in bed. His teeth clenched together and his hands started trembling while the poor phone in his hand seemed to crackle, this man was not happy in the slightest.

How could that fool even leave you alone for a single moment on a day like this? Though Blade lacked experience in relationships, even he knew that couples were supposed to stick together during hard times. And with how long he’s known your husband and your vents to Blade, he can bet a million credits he didn’t tell you that we left.

Another woman?? Someone other than you? He refused to believe you would choose a partner who took amazing things they didn’t deserve for granted, a prime example of what you are. Levi couldn’t be stupid enough to betray your trust, and abandon you when you needed him the most, could he?

*Ping!* Another notification.

Black Widow: @Baldie, I’m sure Elio made you take off for a reason. Why don’t you give our lovely (Y/N) a call? I’d like to do so, as well as the others but we don’t want to overwhelm her & give her the space she needs. So who better than the one person she trusts no matter what? Black Widow: It’s not a secret that you two are closer to each other than everyone else, and (Y/N) must feel so lonely. So why not give her a little company? Honestly, I’m baffled that she has such a man as her spouse. Stelle told me that he used to have a kind heart until he reached the stages of life, leaving him as a scumbag. Black Widow: Anyways, you know what to do Bladie. Don’t make her wait any longer. Oh, and honestly, we don’t know the full story so we can’t say for certain if he’s having an affair. So avoid much conversation about Levi.

Blade stared at that last message for who knows how long. Kafka seemed to understand human feelings better than anyone else he knows, even though sometimes she seems to lack them herself. But was it really appropriate to call you just to what, hang out? Within less than 24 hours of the loss of your child’s life? If he were to do that, would you be angry with him for crossing a boundary? But since when did you two have boundaries?

With all these thoughts going through his head, he really thought he was hallucinating when Blade saw your name pop up on his screen.

Incoming call.

Taglist: @uhfhfhfhf @xdrin @msun1c0rn @lovingnahida @strrawb3rrysh0rtcak3 @ssecylia @skyl8ver @immahuman @meowmeowraven @01234 @markexplanation @esthelily @dawnofazrael

Borders by @cafekitsune

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #hsr x reader #fem reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #hsr blade #hsr fic

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hapan-in-exile · 22 days

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Volume 4 - Post #4: Say goodbye to the old me

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by dindooku

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 5.6K (fourth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

“Hey! Watch it! I–oh…I, um…” the Trandoshan’s words died on his lips the moment he looked up to discover who he’d bumped into.

The Mandalorian hated working on Coruscant. It was noisy, crowded, and endlessly labyrinthian. Most of the filters in his helmet were rendered useless due to the sheer number of life forms in such close proximity. Continuous vehicle traffic across every level of the city overloaded his motion sensors.

The frenetic energy of the megalopolis set him on edge.

But what Mando really hated, what he absolutely loathed, was visiting the Uscru District. It was all the worst parts about a place like Daiyu—gambling dens, night clubs, garish neon lights, vendors shouting, the flashing, stochastic holograms—made somehow worse because it was repacked for gawking tourists.

Acrobats hung from cables crisscrossing overhead, their lithe bodies shimmering, while street musicians played for coins. Instrument cases littered the walkway, and goods were hawked on the pavement.

He felt uncentered. The next idiot who tripped over him to stare slack-jawed at some fucking juggler was getting bodied.

Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Mando couldn’t afford the delay.

The Mandalorian turned onto Daring Way, toward the sky bridge that would take him to the Floating World. Tourists liked to keep to well-lit thoroughfares, so the foot traffic here was sparser, and he made better time. Soon, the soft, glowing lights of the pleasure quarter came into view.

Music spilled out from decadent parlors where the doors and windows had been flung open to lure passersby. Beings of every gender and species could be seen lounging, sprawled out on display, wearing little more than scraps of fabric and gaudy jewels.

Each house catered to a different clientele, their specialty made known by the facade of the building or else the costumes worn by hosts welcoming their clients inside.

Most tourists never entered the brothels of the Floating World. They just came to take in the scene and watch the crowd, which was a sight in itself. Amongst the extravagant fashions and decor of the houses, many visitors donned elaborate masks or robes to conceal their identities.

So the Mandalorian was surprised to discover that the Dark Garden had no hosts waiting in the doorway and nothing on display in the windows. Instead, they were closed, sealed tight behind intricately carved black shutters.

The whole building was black. Its gleaming stone exterior looked more like a palatial mansion than a pleasure house.

The woman stationed behind the desk in the entryway was also dressed in black. It was a stark contrast to her pale pink skin, white-blond hair, and nearly colorless gray eyes. She looked up at him from between two onyx vases overflowing with vibrant red blossoms that matched her painted lips.

“Welcome, sir. We appreciate your business. Do you have an appointment?”

“No. I’m not in need of your…services. I’ve come to see Mistress Anassa. She’ll know why I’m here.”

“Mistress Anassa is very busy,” she smiled apologetically. “Her clients book months in advance. I cannot promise she will have time to—”

He slid several gold peggats across the highly polished surface of the reception desk.

“Tell her a Mandalorian is waiting. I’ll be here until she finds the time.”

“Very well, sir. Please come with me.”

She led him through a dark passage to a lounge filled with curved sofas and circular ottomans, where clients–some wearing masks, others with their faces bared–sat huddled in conversation, drinking from elegant carafes or smoking ornate water pipes.

The hostess directed him to an alcove beneath a cluster of illuminated, floating orbs.

“Can I offer the Mandalorian anything while he waits? Company, perhaps?” She lowered her voice as she leaned in to place a pillow behind his back. “We cater to every desire here.”

“My desire,” he said evenly, “is for solitude.”

“As you like,” she smiled again, leaving him to wait for Mistress Anassa.

But he was conspicuous sitting alone, and it wasn’t long before another hostess dressed in black strode toward him. She walked over on towering heels he imagined Thuli would have loved, to see if the Mandalorian was in need of attention.

She artfully placed one of the gilt carafes onto the lacquered table beside him and poured a drink. “May I offer the gentleman anything else?”

Her voice was as supple as her corsetted leather dress.

“No. Thank you, I–”

The sight of two luminous violet eyes caught him by surprise, and his heart stuttered. He turned sharply to see a woman entering the parlor. On second glance, she looked nothing like Thulindhara. But the eyes were unmistakable—their iridescent sheen, how they glowed bright like full moons. She was Hapan.

“Perhaps the Mandalorian sees something to his liking?”

It wasn’t her, yet the thrill that rose inside him didn’t ebb. It clutched the breath from his lungs and twisted his stomach into knots.

Mando knew he would miss her, but he hadn’t expected to feel her absence as a physical pain.

“No,” he said. “Thank you. But, no. I’m here to see Mistress Anassa.”

He watched as the woman who wasn’t Thuli walked up to a Keshiri couple at the bar, gesturing them to follow her down a long corridor hidden behind a pair of lush velvet curtains.

Beside him, the hostess offered the drink she’d poured, and he accepted it. Not for the sake of politeness but because he felt compelled to hold something in his hands. Sensing his discomposure, she looked meaningfully towards the curtains as they fell back into place and whispered, “They say to lie with a Hapan is to open the door to heaven.”

The Mandalorian had heard that said many times and always dismissed it as a self-serving rumor. He didn’t pay for sex, but mercenaries loved to talk about how they would spend their take on Hapan courtesans. The most expensive pussy in the galaxy, they said. Once you’re between her thighs, you’ll forget your own name.

Now, Mando understood the truth of these stories. Well…he hadn’t forgotten his name, but she did taste like heaven.

For most of his life, sex had been about release. Lust was simply another physical need. Like hunger or sleep, he met those needs for the sake of his body. When a woman felt so inclined, he obliged—helmet sealed, armor intact—and let her take what satisfaction she could find.

With Thuli, he learned that sex could be something beyond physical pleasure. They shared a connection unlike anything he’d experienced. Real intimacy. Mando hadn’t kissed a woman since…he’d barely been a man. Still a child, really.

To be with Thulani, naked and vulnerable as he had never been before, was not about release. It was fulfillment. Satisfaction of body and soul. And, yes, part of that was being between her thighs.

In the abstract, he’d been a little intimidated, but in the moment, it had felt entirely natural. He wanted to linger over her every curve, to put his mouth over every inch of her body, and he had loved all of it—the way she tasted, her fingers tugging at his hair, how her hips lifted with his touch.

It made him feel powerful in a way he hadn’t expected, drinking her in until she was soaked and breathless under his tongue.

Then, a door had opened—a door between their consciousness, when he’d felt her pleasure cresting through his body, rippling over his skin in waves that matched the stroking of his fingers. She’d lost all control, and his whole being suffused with her ecstasy, so intensely passionate that he saw stars behind his eyes. Maybe it was heaven?

Thulani’s trick was making people believe in her openness, yet Mando recognized how rigidly she held herself in check. He sensed the wild, fierce nature in her heart that she constrained. It made him feel both immeasurably powerful and deeply gratified to be the one who made her unravel.

“The Mandalorian asked for me?”

A woman in a crisply tailored black suit stood before him. He did not immediately recognize her species, but the horns that spiraled around her long, folded ears and convex nose reminded him of a dray goat.

“You’re Mistress Anasssa? The proprietor of this…establishment.”

“Mmm, the Mandalorian is polite for a mercenary,” she sat beside him on the bench and reached out with slender fingers (no hooves) to take the glass from between his hands. It struck him at once how artfully the gesture was both sensual and dominating. “In answer to your question…” she drank deeply. “Yes. The gentleman would be wise not to let the crystal and chandeliers fool him. This is a dungeon. And I am its master.”

“I see.” It was all he could think to say. “Boss Set’ki said you’d be expecting me.”

“My apologies. I was otherwise occupied when the Mandalorian arrived.” She looked at the untouched carafe on the table. “I am sorry my vintage is not to his taste. And none of my ladies, either, I hear. If it is males he prefers, the gentleman need only—”

“That is beyond my purpose, Mistress Anassa. I’m here on business.”

“I doubt the Mandalorian would burden himself with such formality if he intended to capture me,” the mistress smiled curiously. “What is his business?”

“I’m interested in one of your clients.”

She scoffed. “The gentleman must realize discretion is an essential tenet of my profession. Why would I betray my client to help him?”

“Because Set’ki owes me a debt. And while you may be the master of this dungeon, your master is Boss Set’ki.”

Her features became resolute. “Then let us discuss this matter in private.”

The Mistress rose and walked toward the velvet curtains. Mando followed her down the long corridor until she stopped before a door with gold flowers embossed along its hinges.

She placed a tasseled fob against the keypad. “I hope the Mandalorian will appreciate that it is to everyone’s benefit if he appears to be another of my clients?”

“Very well,” he said and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. The black walls did not surprise him, but the abundance of those same red flowers, blooming from vases and wall hangings did. They matched the illuminated floor tiles that pulsed with crimson light.

Otherwise, the room was sparsely furnished to accommodate the…equipment. There was a saltire cross with a rack of whips and paddles positioned beside it and a polished steel beam with manacles chained to its post. A length of rope dangled from one of the ceiling beams overhead. Instead of a bed, a quilted leather couch sat in a far corner of the room.

Plastered across one of the walls was a diagram of knots with cautionary notes about circulation and nerve damage.

“I’m sure the Mandalorian must be very accomplished at tying knots,” Mistress Anassa said from over his shoulder.

“I prefer cuffs.”

“Mmm…” He felt her eyes rake over him with heightened interest. “I have never met a Mandalorian before, but I begin to see why you inspire so much fascination. The armor, the brute force, stalking, capture, imprisonment—all potent themes for bondage role play.”

“I am Mandalorian. Violence is my trade. Weapons are part of my religion.” Mando turned to face her. “I’m not playing a game, Mistress.”

He could tell Anassa enjoyed hearing him call her that.

“Of course. Though I’m sure someone has offered to suck your cock in exchange for their freedom. Can you honestly say their begging has never aroused you?”

Her tone was frank, not seductive. A businesswoman appraising a commodity.

“I think the Mistress has a false impression about the sorts of people I’m sent to collect.”

At that, she laughed. “Still…I see the appeal. If you’re ever interested in a new line of work, I believe the Mandalorian and I could make a great deal of money together.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mando recalled that Thulani had said much the same thing. A Mandalorian would make good coin at one of those Keyorin brothels.

He suddenly wondered if this was something Thuli might enjoy. Bondage? Role play? The clamps and paddles didn’t exactly appeal to him, but he wouldn’t be opposed to tying her up if that’s what she wanted.

Mando looked at the steel beam, and his mind couldn’t help but stray towards fantasies of throwing her over it and fucking her senseless.

“About your client, Mistress Anassa.”

“What is it you wish to know?”

“This man, Ronan Carr,” he took the holo-puck from his pocket and activated its profile. “I’m told he makes use of your services when his wife is out of town.”

Mistress Anassa schooled her features, but it was too late. He’d seen the look of panic cross her eyes the instant she recognized the man’s face.

“The Senator will be leaving on a diplomatic mission. Does Carr have an appointment scheduled for her departure?”

The Mandalorian suspected that Ronan Carr had an appointment booked for later that day. He’d been following Carr for the past week. Yesterday, the man had reserved an entire hotel floor under a false name and given his personal assistant the night off.

“He does,” the Mistress confirmed. “But I won’t help you. Boss Set’ki may kill me for my refusal. I will accept that punishment. A political assassination would condemn every soul under my care. That I will not accept.”

“I have no intention of killing Ronan Carr,” he assured her. “It’s information I want.”

“I suppose that is his trade,” her eyes weighed the Mandalorian, and she dropped the artful persona. “You won’t harm him? No kidnapping or torture?”

“If those are your terms, then I will agree. I only want to talk to him.”

“What if I have other terms?” The Mistress asked shrewdly.

“Name them.”

“I don’t want any of my people harmed.”

He nodded. “Do you know who you’ll send?”

“Yes, there are a few he favors.”

“Then give me some token or signal. But tell no one of this.”

She paused before coming to a decision. “I will go with them tonight. To ensure all will be as you promise.”

“These are your terms?”

“He’s a good client,” she waved her well-manicured hand vaguely, “And if word got out? If he thought I’d helped you?”

“Ronan Carr won’t risk the Senator discovering his…hobbies.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Here,” he pulled out a folded wallet and handed it to her. “To compensate for your loss of business. Though I expect a man with his proclivities should be back before long.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a curt bow. “You know where to find him?”

“Carr has gone to great lengths to conceal his plans, but yes, I know where he’ll be tonight.” And without really intending to, the Mandalorian said, “His desires make him weak.”

Mando was surprised at the scorn in his voice. Surprised to hear himself say that. Did he believe desire made him weak? His desire for Thuli?

It certainly made it difficult to concentrate. How many times did he think about her each day?

Maker, if he was being honest…he woke up thinking about Thulani, and the thought seemed to last all day. He worried about whether she was safe. He’d make some stray observation and imagine her reaction. He saw something beautiful in a window and wondered if she would like it.

When he lay inside the sleeping compartment alone, surrounded by her scent, he thought of Thuli’s mouth on him, those delicate fingers stroking his cock, and his body ached. He could not bring himself off without thinking about her.

Mistress Anassa looked at him with genuine sympathy as though she could sense his turmoil.

“Shame is Ronan Carr’s weakness,” she said. “If he were honest about his desires, you would have no power over him. His wife might even oblige. But shame feeds arousal. Maybe you can understand that?”

“Excuse me?”

Shame. Was that at the root of his sudden anger? The Mandalorian was not ashamed of his relationship with Thuli. He did not believe she made him weak.

But he did feel shame about his own selfish cowardice. That in her absence, he’d realized how deeply he cared for her, and it killed him knowing he could never say those words.

Why? Because they gave her power over him? No. Whether he said the words or not, didn’t change his feelings. But to say them aloud would be a promise. One he couldn’t make.

She’d met him on those terms, yet he felt ashamed he couldn’t give her more. She deserved better than a man who could not share his name or his face or his life with her. It would always come back to that.

“Shame is one of the most effective tools of repression,” Mistress Anassa shrugged. “But repression simply fuels temptation. Temptation transforms into desire. Desire generates more shame.”

Anassa opened a hidden panel in the wall and beckoned him forward. Lightly placing her fingers over a wooden slat, she slid it open, and a pinhole of light pierced through the room. The muffled sounds of moaning grew louder.

Gesturing toward the peephole, she said, “It’s only when we embrace our desires that we become free of this endless cycle.”

Curiosity getting the better of him, the Mandalorian looked. What he saw was the Keshiri couple from the parlor. The man was fully clothed, on all fours, hands and knees braced against the ground. His partner was naked, splayed on his back, while the Hapan woman fucked her roughly from behind with a strap-on.

“They were honest with each other about their desires. Now, it creates a bond rather than a wedge.”

Mando hadn’t anticipated that visiting a sex dungeon would prompt so much soul-searching. His eyes strayed back to the peephole, towards the Keshiri in the throws of climax, eyes shut tight as though she might die from ecstasy.

While he felt ashamed that he could not tell Thulani he loved her, he could at least ensure she felt loved. When he worshipped her body, when he fulfilled her desires, when he made her unravel—she would know the depth of his feelings.

“I’ve heard it said that true Mandalorians do not remove their armor. Perhaps the gentleman prefers to watch?”

He pulled the slot closed. “I’ve seen enough.”

**********

One thing the Mandalorian did appreciate about Coruscant was the simplicity of bribing government officials. As with any vast bureaucracy, front line New Republic workers like the port operatives were overlooked and underpaid.

Flush with cash from Ryun Vos, Mando was able to dock under fake tabs at a shipyard centrally located in a safe and discreet area. Money made all things possible on Coruscant.

“Please tell me something in that bag is fried?” Nito moaned as the Mandalorian stepped inside the Razor Crest.

“I got some of everything, so your odds are good.”

The Ardennian was sitting at a makeshift table of stacked cargo containers with the Child seated in his lap. He had his mechanic’s apron on while the kid was stripped to his breechcloth. And they were both covered in paint.

“There better be a bath planned for after this,” Mando growled, reaching to wipe the Child’s talons clean with a take-out napkin.

“What? Yeah. Sorry,” Nito said dimly. “Yes! Oil bread. And rice balls! Fuck yeah!”

The Mandalorian thought vaguely that Thulani would try to curb Nito’s swearing, but he only had so much paternal energy left in him today, and he needed it for the baby.

Mando pulled the fried bread out of reach and replaced it with the box of bean pods. “Hey, kid, you need to eat at least five of these.”

His enormous ears wilted in disappointment.

“How’s the programming going?” Mando asked, searching for the sweet and sour broth.

Nito shoved a rice ball in his mouth and swallowed it whole. “Do you have any idea how complex a unified operating system for an industrial plant—with residential facilities can be?”

“No,” he admitted. “That’s why I’m paying you.”

“Paying me in more than dumplings, I hope.” Nito laughed cheerily. “Assuming it’s the Imperial coding language, I think it is…”

“We’re going to find out tonight.”

“You got Carr?”

“I know how to get to him,” Mando said. “We leave in three hours. Spend at least one of those cleaning up the kid.”

“Okay. Okay.”

The Mandalorian was relieved to have such a tidy solution for Ronan Carr. It wasn’t in his nature to wait for reconnaissance or planning. He was a blunt instrument—brute force, as Mistress Anassa had said. But Nito proved that hacking the man’s communicator could be useful. Coruscant was not the Outer Rim. Best to be cautious here.

Months ago, he would have stormed the hotel, shoved a blaster in Carr’s face, and broken the man’s fingers until he talked. Now, when Mando considered this approach, the crew from Dark Garden weighed on his conscience. Not everything needs to end in a shoot-out, Thuli had chided him. She wasn’t even here, yet her memory was wringing these little bits of decency from him.

Nito snapped his fingers in front of Mando’s viewplate. “You in there?”

“What?” He shook his head.

“You’ve been staring at those dumplings for an eternity. I want to eat them.”

Mando passed the container.

“I was telling you about this utter stroke of genius I had.” The Ardennian lifted the kid onto the table and pulled something out from his apron pocket. “So, he’s green, right? Well, I painted his face. And when I put on the bonnet…See! He’s Mirialan.”

Underneath the paint splatters, Mando recognized the geometric facial markings.

“That’s–that is pretty genius.”

Nito beamed. Thuli told him things would be easier with the kids if he put in a little effort. So far, it was working.

“I mean, he hates having his ears tucked, but it’s only temporary, buddy. Just to keep you safe.”

The Child squirmed and pounded his fists against his thighs.

Mando had to suppress a laugh. “Bean pods and bonnets. Guess you got it pretty rough, kid.”

The baby stopped mid-tantrum to glare at the Mandalorian.

“Anyway,” Nito went on. “We had the paint out, so I found some packing paper…and look what he made.”

Mando tilted his head and squinted, “It’s a…bantha?”

“It’s the Razor Crest,” Nito snorted.

“If you say so.”

The kid squealed until Mando handed him a meat pie.

“I miss her too, you know.”

“What?”

“Fish dumplings are Thuli’s favorite,” Nito said quietly. “It’s hard not to miss her when she makes everything so…” he shrugged, “cozy when she’s around.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “You heard from her today?”

His heart twisted painfully in anticipation. It did every day when he asked that question. But he knew she must have checked in that morning. Nito would be inconsolable if she hadn’t.

“Yeah, I got the signal.”

Good. She's alive. Hopefully safe. “We’ll see her soon,” Mando assured them. “We’re stocked up on supplies, weapons, equipment. Once we get what we need from Carr, we can make a course for Lakaran.”

“Did you get a gift to bring her now that you guys are, you know, sleeping together?”

The Mandalorian choked on his soup. The steel jaw of his helmet caught him painfully on the lip, and he had to pound his chest a few times before he could breathe again. “Did she–ahem–did she say something…about…?”

“Didn’t have to,” Nito waved a furry hand. “For months, you’ve both just wreaked of longing and frustration. Then you came back and smelled…satisfied. Pretty logical conclusion.”

“You can smell that?”

“Oh yeah! It’s kind of funny that humans can’t since all of your emotions get communicated through hormones and sweat glands.”

Mando shook his head again. “I’m not entirely comfortable talking about this,” he sighed. “But while we’re on the subject, there are some…things I should…we should probably…discuss before we leave to find Carr.”

“What? Like, sex stuff?”

The Mandalorian groaned. Where do I even start…?

**********

The hotel Ronan Carr had booked was elegant enough for his aristocratic tastes while also offering the assurance of privacy. There was a separate entrance and elevator for the penthouse floor so he could avoid bumping into anyone from his social circle—or his wife’s senatorial colleagues—in the lobby.

Mando opted to gain entry from the roof.

“You hear something?” One of the bodyguards asked.

But just as their partner began to answer, the Mandalorian slipped behind him and placed a blade to the man’s throat. In an instant, he had grabbed the guard’s wrist and raised his blaster. Mando shot the other bodyguard before they could cry out in warning.

To stage this right, the knife needed to go in at just the right angle. But the man continued to struggle under Mando’s grip, trying to break free from his hold. The guard tried everything—stomping on the Mandalorian’s foot, slamming his head against the Beskar, thrusting his shoulders against Mando’s arm around his neck.

The bounty hunter might as well be a statue for all the give there was in his frame. The guard’s death was inevitable, but he refused to make peace with it.

Mando hooked his leg around the man’s ankle and sent them both hurtling toward the ground. The force of impact drove the knife into the guard’s throat.

A wet splatter hit his view plate when the man coughed blood onto the Mandalorian’s helmet. Yet he still fought. Hands flailed blindly until Mando drove the blade deeper, severing the spinal cord. And finally, the fingers clawing at his wrists fell limp.

He rolled the bodyguard onto his back and returned the blaster to the man’s right hand. Should be enough to cover my tracks.

Mistress Anassa had left the south-facing balcony doors unlocked, just as he instructed. They slid open with a soft rolling hush before he made his way silently through the suite. She was waiting for him in the study, hunched over a display monitor.

“You look a sight,” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Can I get you a towel?”

“No.” The blood was war paint. It would make what came next that much easier. "I staged the guards. You can claim a fight broke out, and you had to get your people to safety."

Anassa cleared her throat and nodded. It was the first time he’d seen her unsettled. “The false name on the hotel reservation avoids a paper trail, but I can’t decide whether Carr realizes Set’ki is tracking all of this.”

“Do you record him every time?”

She glared at Mando. “No, but I had a feeling my master wanted some insurance. I don’t expect Ronan Carr will be making any future appointments with Dark Garden after tonight.”

Involving Set’ki and Anassa—at all—was an unnecessary risk. The Mandalorian had done it to ensure the safety of her employees, and he didn’t feel any remorse about the Mistress’s bottom line.

“Tell them to leave the room.”

She crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. “I know I don’t have a say in any of this, but it shouldn’t go unspoken, this is a gross violation of my professional ethics.”

“You’re arguing ethics after admitting to blackmail?”

“Those restraints are intended to aid his submission. He needs to feel safe to surrender control. And instead, you’ve co-opted them for violence.”

Mando huffed. “Are you referring to the silk scarves tied around his wrists and ankles?”

“The type of restraints are irrelevant. Bondage is a kink that depends on trust. It’s a choice to be helpless. Consent is based entirely on trust. This is a violation of trust. I feel the weight of what this will do to his psyche, and I ask you to acknowledge that before you step inside that room.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t fathom why she was looking to him to absolve her guilt.

“And I told you, violence is my profession. Get—your people—out.”

From the display screen, Mando watched as the Mistress entered the bedroom. Her sudden presence startled the other women, but she quickly ushered them into the hallway and closed the door behind her.

When he was confident they were gone, the bounty hunter opened the bedroom door. The first thing he did was drape a towel over Set’ki’s camera. Mando didn’t want any record of his presence on Coruscant.

He approached the chair Carr was bound to without bothering to stifle his footsteps. The man had a sensory deprivation mask covering his eyes and ears. He hadn’t sensed the ladies from Dark Garden leave the room, and he was becoming agitated, sitting in a puddle of urine, confused as to why they didn’t end the session.

Ronan Carr paid to be tied down and tickled until he pissed himself. The kink wasn’t inherently sexual. It didn’t make him hard. He didn’t come, and nobody brought him to completion. The tickling made him laugh and his muscles spasm, and eventually, the stress on his pelvic floor emptied his bladder.

Then, he slept for ten hours. It simply…relaxed the man.

“Whoa!” Nito said when the Mandalorian explained this. “So it’s like getting a massage? But, like, a really extreme massage.”

It wasn’t not sexual…he paid to be tickled by beautiful women, after all.

As he ripped the mask off, Mando tried not to think about Anassa’s sanctimonious pleading. He felt no remorse for Ronan Carr, either.

The bounty hunter unholstered his blaster and pointed it in the man’s face so it was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. On cue, Carr jumped, recoiling in terror at the sight of the Mandalorian.

“Don’t cry for help," Mando said, his voice cold and stern. "You don’t want anyone coming through that door to find you like this, do you?”

Ronan Carr shook his head.

“Good. Do what I say, and I won’t have to hurt you,” he growled. “Tell me you understand.”

Ronan Carr took a deep, steadying breath. “I understand.” The man’s voice quavered, but he didn’t panic. Some people became paralyzed with fear and that made interrogation harder. If Carr could keep it together, this would be over quickly.

“Untie yourself.”

Despite Mistress Anassa’s speech about trust and surrender, her words were meaningless sentiment. Ronan Carr had never given up control. The scarves were tied with enough slack that he could easily lift his hands over the headrest and pull free the knots at his wrists. After that, he only needed to lean forward to release his ankles.

“Where is everyone?” Carr asked nervously, massaging his wrists.

The man was wiry, more muscular than the bounty hunter expected from someone who spent his life behind a desk. Intimidation was his best tactic to keep Carr in check. Use of physical force would only complicate things. And he made a deal with Anassa.

“You don’t need to know what I did with them. Worry about yourself.”

After a lifetime of doing this work, Mando knew most people’s imagination was far darker than any threat he could make. The man looked at the blood splattered across his helmet, and all the color drained from Ronan Carr’s face.

“What is it you want?”

“I need something, and you’re the person who can get it for me.”

“My wife—”

“This has nothing to do with the Senator. And it doesn’t have to. You give me what I want, and she won’t discover what you get up to under the name ‘Kirk Satu.’” Carr’s eyes went wide with horror. “The piss play makes for an awkward conversation, but I think all the bank transfers will be harder to explain.”

Now, he had the man’s full attention. “What do you want?”

“First, I want you to put some clothes on. Meet me in the study when you’re ready.”

The man’s suit hung neatly from the bathroom door, yet he stared at the garment like it might transform into a torture device.

“You’re not—you aren’t going to lock me in?”

“We both know you won’t run,” Mando said. “You’re going to do what I tell you. Then you can forget all about this.”

The look on Carr’s face when he walked into the study made it clear this encounter would haunt him for some time.

“Is your communicator on?” Nito asked from behind his data-pad. “Your real one. Not the burner?”

“What?” Ronan Carr stammered. “I–yes.” When the notification bell chimed, he pulled the device out from his pocket.

“Okay, read me the security code.”

“Wait! This is about work? You want something from the Archives?”

Carr looked between Nito and the Mandalorian.

“You do realize the New Republic Library doesn’t store any military or intelligence records. This is not…what could you possibly need that isn’t already publicly available?”

Mando thrust his blaster in the man’s face. “Ask me about my business again and see what happens to you.”

“The security code?” Nito drolled.

Mando grabbed the communicator from Carr and handed it to the Ardennian.

“I’m just…we have a records request system online…”

“For redacted documents!” Nito howled. “If you guys just uploaded everything onto the Net, you could enjoy your tickle party and we wouldn’t be here.”

Ronan Carr’s face turned scarlet. “It’s our responsibility to make sure sensitive information doesn’t fall into the hands of…criminals.”

What a fucking hypocrite. “Can we hurry this up?” Mando barked. The fact that the bodyguards in the foyer hadn’t burst into the penthouse meant that Mistress Anassa had done her part. But their luck wouldn’t last long.

“Well, it’s not my fault the file structure isn’t intuitive,” Nito looked at Ronan Carr with disgust. “And you call yourself an Archivist?”

“I–I don’t oversee information architecture.”

“Ah! Okay…security question for the download. What is the name of your first pet?”

When Nito had the files he needed, Mando thrust a disc into Carr’s hands.

“What—?”

“I lied when I said this didn’t involve your wife. That’s for her. From a former Rebel fighter, Ubaa Dir. Remember the name. The next time you hear it, give the Senator that disc. You’ll know when.”

“How will I explain—”

“You’d rather explain the sex workers and money laundering? Figure–it—out,” Mando snapped, and Ronan Carr jumped.

This time, the Mandalorian did lock him inside the bedroom.

He found Mistress Anassa in the living room, offering the Child sugar cubes from an abandoned tea service tray.

"I'm done here," Mando said, watching as the kid delightedly crunched the crystals between his teeth. "He's unharmed, as per the terms of our deal. Are you satisfied?"

"Very," she smiled serenely at him. "I thought I'd be spending the night cleaning brain matter off the walls. Instead, I got to play with an adorable baby."

Anassa lifted the Child from her hip and handed him back to the Mandalorian.

"You still want me to bind and gag you?" Mando asked. "I could just lock you inside, like I did with Carr?"

"No," she shook her head. "I've got to sell this if there's a chance I can retain his trust. And he'll need a witness to help explain what happened to the guards." Mistress Anassa looked thoughtfully at the Mandalorian. "When life hands you an opportunity, it's best to seize it with both hands."

"Very well." Mando reached for the plush, decorative rope tying back the curtains—he could at least ensure that she was comfortable.

"Speaking of which," the Mistress grinned. "I do hope you'll reconsider my offer. There are a number of ways we could leverage your particular talents at the Dark Garden."

The Mandalorian offered her a chair.

"After listening to the ruthlessness in your voice saying, You're going to give me what I want..." she shivered rather theatrically. "Fear is a very potent form of arousal. I'm confident we could find clients looking for nothing more than degradation."

The audacity of her proposal impressed him, and his mouth quirked into a begrudging smile beneath the Beskar helmet.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"And what knots do you plan to use?"

Mando huffed—not quite a laugh. This was beginning to feel like an audition. "A bowline. But I can use a hitch knot if you prefer?"

"Merely professional curiosity," Mistress Anassa grinned, sitting in the armchair as though it were a throne. "Do you have a suggestion for the gag?"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, "Give me your necktie."

He wasn't entirely comfortable with how much keen interest lit up her face. A businesswoman through and through.

She hurriedly fished something out of her suit pocket. "Take my card. You're a working father, after all. It pays to be flexible when there are mouths to feed."

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

Continue reading: Volume 4-Post #5: Wish You Were Here!

Back to Volume 4 - all posts

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mando smut #sexy mando #sexymando #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars smut

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firstyok · 1 year

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- Tonhon Chonlatee End Notes -

So, I've just finished Tonhon Chonlatee - yes, that notorious bl show that everyone is upset with. I'm not one of them, though. Like, yes every bl show, unless it's a classic one - have it's set of strong points and drawbacks, and so does this show. But honestly, I've immensely enjoyed watching this fabulous bl series. I was exposed to a lot of potential in this show. So, stay with me and hear me out on this!

Below, I've addressed a few of the strongest points of this show, along with the major flaws. But overall, it was a wonderfully enjoyable bl show for me, and I'd probably rewatch it's first episodes, once again.

STRONG POINTS

1. Chonlatee's Character

Ever since the first time I saw Chonlatee onscreen, I fell in love with this shy, kind-hearted, diplomatic, mature, and sassy boy. This young boy is the epitome of sweetness. Unlike most bl shows, where the bottom is often an innocent, reserved, naive, gullible boy who is constantly being taken advantage of, by others - Chonlatee is that sassy mature bottom, who knows how to stand his ground, be brave, and speak up for himself when he's treated unfairly.

Another thing I loved about Chonlatee - eventhough he seems soft, sweet and warm to everyone in his life, he is a strong person. He knows when to walk away from people, when to stop giving people another chance, or even knowing about which things to spill and which not. When he was badly treated by Amp, it didn't stop him from giving that woman a taste of her own medicine. He was firm enough to reject Tonhon when he found out about his kiss at the party, and carried that stubborness on until the last moment. He knows how to say NO, and that's the most attractive thing about him. Since, I often struggle saying no to people, this thing specifically made him so freaking cool to me. Overall, he is a gentle, warm, mature and lovely person, who also knows when to be sassy, savage and stand up for himself. I'm just sooo in lovee in with this boy.

2. Khaotungg's Acting

Yes, I had to write a separate point, exclusively for his acting in his show, because I was utterly impressed and stunned by his skills. Firstly, he was extremely adorable here with beautiful round black eyes, cute coconut hairstyle and he was so charming with a complete different aura, from the Eclipse. Since, my first exposure to Khaotungg's acting was in Eclipse, I'm only used to seeing his flirtatious gazes and seductive advances, but here! Omg, this man knows how to act in a completely different role of being a sweet, warm and adorable boy. From his minor, detailed eye movements to his soft, loving, low tone voice, everything in his acting was just beautiful and so damn enjoyable.

When you see an actor performing polar opposite roles flawlessly, that's when you realize how talented and versatile of an actor he is. After watching First's shows, I've finally watched another Khaotungg show - and trust me, Khaotungg's acting and screen presence gave me constant giddiness, smiles, and happiness. I couldn't stop smiling especially on the first episodes, because the setting was a lot lighter, humorous and fun, rather than the last episodes. I have been a huge fan of First ever since Not Me, but after I watched Tonhon Chonlatee, I've become another big fan of Khaotungg's acting too. I can't wait to see both of them in many more upcoming shows, whether as a couple or individually - I'd just be so happy to watch them work!

3. Best Supporting Cast

Now, believe me when I say - the Supporting Cast of this show couldn't get any better. It's absolutely the perfect supporting cast that the show would have needed. Where do I start? Firstly, the two amazing actors Mike and Toptap, portraying as Ni and Ai, were the best ever friend group the show could ever had. I was starstruck by their exceptional acting skills. Whether it'd be Chonlatee's iconic mom, Nam or his best friend Pang, the new rich kid, Na or even their new friend Miriam. They all are just absolute all-rounders at their respective roles. What is there that you won't enjoy about them? None.

It is safe to say that the entire Tonhon Chonlatee show was basically carried out by the Supporting Cast, whereas the main leads also did a wonderful job on portraying their roles. However, the Supporting actors wins on this, I'd say. These actors were the core essence of fun, entertainment and cheeky vibe of the show. They're hilarious, joyful and bring a sweet warmth to the show, they are also the best ever people one could ever find in their lives. Everyone is a loyal friend, they are helpful and has got one another's back. I think there's nothing more positive and beautiful than that.

4. A Simple, Humorous Show

To be precise, I'd describe this show as a simple, sweet, and humorous bl series. There are a few aspects of the show which aren't appealing, with complex ideologies and actions, however - this show still shines bright overweighting those flaws. The introduction of the first episode is hilarious, one of the best I've ever seen in a bl series. I was only half a minute into it, and I was giggling, smiling and laughing on my bed. Like seriously, the first few episodes were wholesome, adorable and endearing, despite a few disturbances, which could be ignored because of the stunning acting skills and vibe of the show.

The last episodes got a bit angsty, with a lot drama to overcome, but I cannot just forget all the warmth, happiness and joy this show gave me, when I was just starting out in the beginning. Many people have rated this series really low, because of how ending turned out. But for me, I believe it was a believable, sorta happy ending, which was needed for the peace of everyone. I was never a watcher who just rates stuff low because I didn't like the ending. I rate shows based on how much I enjoyed watching it. So here it goes, this show certainly over 8.7 for me, out of 10. I would highly recommend this bl to others who have backed out from watching it because of the scary reviews, but it is actually a lovely show.

WEAK POINTS

1. Tonhon's Character

Isn't it ironic how Chonlatee's character is in the Strong points list and I'm adding Tonhon's character here? Well, yes because he deserves it. Eventhough he is one of the main leads of the show, he is not a likeable character, due to several reasons. He is a tough, raunchy, macho dude ( atleast pretends to be ), who is too possessive over Chon, who is gaining lots of male attention in his University. He claims Chon as his brother but still obsesses over him like a psychotic jealous boyfriend. He doesn't like any male approaching Chon, atleast that's how he pretends, until someone sane put some wisdom into his brain that he actually likes Chon, more than like a brother.

Later on in this show, we realize Tonhon is always pressured by his family, especially his father to bring grandchildren to be an heir of his legacy - which constantly puts Tonhon in an uncomfortable position. I also hated how Tonhon forced Chon to hook-up with women, eventhough he showed absolute disinterest towards it. Tonhon even kissed his ex-girlfriend Amp, while dating Chon, which was really infuriating for me. I hate seeing my baby boy Chon crying like that, I swear. Eventhough the kiss was planned and tricked, Tonhon did that to satisfy his ego and show others that he is not afraid of women, eventhough he loves Chon now. So, basically - there are plenty of factors why Tonhon's character was not a good one, instead it caused a lot of drama and pain, but we got to know his secret feelings at the end of the show, and everything was sorted out peacefully.

2. Annoying Villains

The worst part of the show is definitely the Villains, without a second doubt. In my eyes, the actual villains are Tonhon's ex-girlfriend Amp and her friend Neung. Technically, both of them are seniors at Chon's Department of Food Science, and that's why they get exceptional advantage for picking up on Chon in every way possible. Let's face it; they are the worst kind of people. Amp is a popular girl but with zero friends, funny huh? Her personality sucks, because she only focusses on how to create drama with Chon, how to give Tonhon a harder life, while damaging the peace of the show, so effortlessly. Neung is a side-kick of Amp, follows her plans basically, but worse because he tried to harm and force himself on Chon, after making him and his friends drink too much at the freshers party. But, it was Amp's plan though. I don't who is worse here.

But that's not all. When Tonhon actually starts dating Chon, she even dares to tell his family about Tonhon being gay, or tries to break their relationship apart by that kiss trick. She is rude, and disrespectful - she threw water at Chon, thinking as if she has the right of it, because she is his senior. I cannot even explain how much I hated Amp and Neung. I was glad that Neung stopped listening to Amp later on, because they both together are the worst duo ever. Amp's character is very under-developed and never evolved in the series. She constantly strategize new plans to tear apart Tonhon & Chonlatte. I'd have liked it if we could witness a little realization on her side, that what she did was wrong and felt guilty for that, but unfortunately we didn't get to see it. So, basically these two villains are pure evil, nasty and annoying, without any hint of humanity.

Tonhon Chonlatee is a quirky, charming thai bl series, showcasing the bloom of an exceptional love evolving from the unrequited phase. The show features strong loyal friendships, lessons on unconditional love despite any gender, and showcases messages on LGBTQ with a flawed yet beautiful storyline, and legendary acting skills from the actors. I wish this show was more popular, because it certainly deserves more recognition than it gets.

#khaotung thanawat #poddkhao #bl drama #bl actors #tonhon chonlatee review #tonhon chonlatee #tonhon #Chonlatee #bl review #bl dramas

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quietly-by-myself · 2 years

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Shadow By My Fireplace - Chapter 27

Masterlist

In which, Sacha has a major breakthrough. This is a happy chapter.

I want to know your thoughts, so please consider commenting or reblogging. This is one of my favorite chapters thus far.

Thank you as always to @darkthingshappen for beta reading. You're great!

CW: past human trafficking, past slavery whump, conditioned whumpee, scars, brand, tattooing, deconditioning

===

The tattoo shop was in a surprisingly open part of the city. To the left, there was a cafe serving locally-roasted coffee and to the right, there was a small hair salon. Sacha felt infinitely reassured by the private rooms in the back and the open shop in the front. Though it was a foreign city that was about a three-hour drive from the cabin and Sacha had never really liked cities, Sacha felt reassured that he wasn’t going to the type of place where somebody would tattoo against someone’s will.

Like what Master did to me.

Yet, Sacha still found himself nervous. He hadn’t discussed what type of tattoos he’d wanted with Cyril, though Sacha had an idea in his head. It felt wrong to not tell Cyril what he was doing. In fact, Sacha almost felt like he needed Cyril’s permission before going through the tattoo designs that he wanted.

However, Sacha was able to tell himself that the thought was totally irrational. Cyril wouldn’t want Sacha to need his permission. This was about Sacha reclaiming his body. To do that, he only needed his own permission.

Absent-mindedly, Sacha rubbed his hand over his brand. Soon, it would be covered, out of sight, out of mind. It was impossible. It couldn’t really be happening.

Except, it wasn’t impossible. As Cyril smiled at him and opened the door of the shop, Sacha felt a rush of adrenaline. It was actually happening. He was going to get his body back.

For a moment, happy tears pricked in his eyes. However, they quickly went away when a happy woman with long black hair, wearing a thick, warm sweater and leggings approached the two of them.

“Hi! My name is Halifa. You two must be Sacha and Cyril?”

Sacha forced a nervous smile and held out his hand for her to shake. She politely shook it. “Y-yes, I’m Sacha and- that’s Cyril,” Sacha stammered.

Halifa smiled kindly at Sacha. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Cyril!” She gave Sacha a gentle, reassuring look. “It’s okay to be nervous. I know this is a big step forward in your life. You have every right to be nervous. I’m certainly not here to judge you.”

Sacha nodded, relaxing a bit. The woman was nice. She reminded him of people back home with her smile and kind attitude. While the thought made him a bit sad, Sacha could look past that to the present. He was here for a reason. Halifa was a good person. She was going to hide his brand and cover his scars.

“I have us set up in the back in a private room. This first meeting will be a consultation, then tomorrow, we’ll start with lining the tattoo. I’ll tell you today how many sessions I think each of them will take. It might be best to book up a hotel since you two live so far away.”

She motioned for Sacha to follow her to the back. Sacha looked back at Cyril and smiled. “I can do this.”

Cyril was hesitant, but nodded. He took a seat at the front while Sacha followed Halifa into the private room.

She motioned for Sacha to sit down in a chair across from a desk that was covered with paper. On top were the printed pictures of his brands and scars. Towards the back, there was a padded chair and all of her tattoo equipment.

“So, I won’t have you take your shirt off until the end of this session. I know for many human trafficking survivors, that’s a sensitive action. I understand if you’d just like to lift to show me, that’s also fine. I’m giving you advance warning so that you don’t have to feel like it was sudden.”

Sacha froze. He wasn’t used to being given so much regard by strangers, much less so much understanding. How could anybody be so kind to him so immediately?

“You- have you done this with other… people like me?”

Halifa nodded and smiled. “I’m part of an organization that does tattoos for free for human trafficking survivors. I’ve helped a lot of other people in your situation. Sadly, there’s a lot of people with a similar experience to yours.”

There’s a lot of people with a similar experience to yours. At first the statement seemed impossibly sad. Yet, it wasn’t difficult to think that there were many other people sold at auction the day that Sacha was. It wasn’t difficult to guess how many thousands of people were being trafficked around the world. Sacha was one of many. Somehow, that made him feel better and worse at the same time.

“So, what were your ideas?”

Sacha had to sit in silence for a moment, thinking about what to say. “I- they’re probably stupid.”

“As long as it’s not a lion with roses, I won’t think it’s stupid.”

Sacha nodded - he certainly didn’t want a lion or roses. “I’d- I’m from a fishing village. Cyril doesn’t know that. But I grew up helping with fishing and stuff.”

Halifa smiled and nodded, encouraging Sacha to continue. “I bet you know how to sail really well!”

“Yeah, I do.” Sacha chuckled lightly, before he caught himself and stopped. Finally, Sacha found the courage he needed to say everything at once. “I’d like an albatross on my back. I have a lot of whipping scars. They’re… they’re the most painful to look at, out of all of them.” Sacha swallowed a bit. “My mom had a saying ‘hold fast and whistle for the wind.’ I’d like that on there. Then for my brand, I’d like a wrecked boat.”

“But you aren’t a wrecked ship, Sacha,” Halifa immediately responded. “You’re a ship that’s in repair. I don’t want to tattoo something that’ll be so negative on you, okay? You’ve given me a lot to work with, so I’ll get the designs ready for tomorrow.”

Sacha nodded. He began to take off his shirt, assuming that Halifa would need to see what was under. She shifted a little, but then grabbed paper and a pencil. Sacha heard a little gasp when she saw his back, but tried not to think much of it. That was the reason he was here - to be free of that.

Once she was done, Sacha left the room and went and saw Cyril. Cyril was smiling, with the look of a proud older brother. For that, Sacha could feel proud. He’d done something well. He’d talked on his own and he’d expressed what he wanted.

Some part of him felt infinitely stronger because of it.

—

When Sacha saw the tattoo designs that would be placed over his brand and his back, the breath caught in his throat and tears formed in his eyes. They were beautiful.

Halifa was smiling proudly as Sacha held them in his hands, looking them over. The one that would be put on his back featured a large albatross over a small map design, holding a ribbon that said “hold fast and whistle for the wind.” He had a long scar that ran along his spine and Halifa had designed the ribbon to cover it completely.

The one that would go over his brand was perhaps the more shocking of the two. Halifa had drawn a grand, three-mast ship with patches in its sail and irregular nails in its haul over a beautiful ocean, towards a lighthouse. There were even birds flying overhead. It would be much bigger than his brand, but Sacha didn’t care. It was beautiful.

Under the ship were the words “rise again.”

“One of the songs I listened to for inspiration was called The Mary Ellen Carter. I thought that part of the song fit you well, Sacha.”

Sacha smiled, happy tears sliding down his face.

“It’s beautiful.”

Halifa smiled even wider. “I’m glad that you like them. How about we start with the lines?”

Sacha nodded. Halifa started with the brand. It took everything Sacha had in him to not be dragged into a flashback of all the times he'd been tattooed against his will. The pain, the discomfort, the needles poking at his skin - he remembered it all too well.

This time was different.

He was reclaiming what was stolen from him. Emery would never put another tattoo on his body. This was his choice. He was defeating Emery’s memory. For once, the pain wasn’t damaging. It was something he’d chosen. In fact, it almost felt good. It was cleansing his mind. It was cleansing his soul. It was his. Not Emery’s. Not Master’s. His.

As Halifa worked gently and carefully, checking in with him. Sacha didn’t need it. As he sat there, he thought about Master. He thought about Emery. Would he ever really be free from him? Why did it still feel wrong to tattoo over the marks that Master gave him?

He got lost in thought quickly and the time passed like lightning before his eyes. Before Sacha knew it, Halifa announced proudly, “We’re done for today!”

She brought Sacha over to a mirror in the room and showed him her work. As he stared at his reflection, whipping scars and brand covered with intentional, powerful black lines, he suddenly recognized himself.

It was Sacha staring back at him in the mirror. It was a different Sacha than the one that he’d been before, but he was still Sacha.

Tears formed again in his eyes.

He was free.

Sacha was free.

As he stepped out to see Cyril, happy tears in his eyes, he didn’t catch what Cyril said. Instead, Sacha raced up to him and hugged him tighter than he’d ever hugged anyone before, crying into his arms.

“I’m free,” Sacha muttered between sobs.

If Cyril said something to that, Sacha didn’t catch it.

===

Taglist: @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpsday, @pigeonwhumps, @darkthingshappen, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @darlingwhump, @maracujatangerine, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @flowersarefreetherapy, @octopus-reactivated, @quietshae, @whump-blog, @inkkswhumpandstuff, @whumpycries, @whumpkinz

#shadow by my fireplace #whump #whump writing #whump fic #whumpblr #whump community #comfort whump #recovery whump #slavery whump #conditioned whumpee #cyril #sacha #deconditioning

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middleearthpixie · 2 years

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After the Fire ~ Chapter Two

Title: After the Fire -

A/N - A huge thank you to @bitter-sweet-farmgirl for answering the medical questions I've pestered her with thus far. I apologize in advance for the sure to be many more coming your way...

Fandom: The Hobbit - Post BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield.

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done.

Jasna gets her first glimpse at the horrors of war and what’s happened to the Durin men…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Óin, Narnerra, Ori, Kíli, Thorin, Iron Hills dwarves

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of wounds sustained in battle, vomiting,

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,603

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Previous chapters can be found here.

“Jasna?”

She looked up to see a small woman with a mass of blonde curls pulled away from her face hurrying toward her. The woman stopped before her, slightly out of breath. “Are you Jasna Stoneham?”

“I am, yes.”

“Good. Come with me. I am Narnerra and Óin told me he’d brought you on. The wounded are coming in now and it’s a madhouse both in the infirmary and out here. Come with me.”

She didn't wait for Jasna to reply, but turned and hurried off in the direction from whence she came, all the while talking at least a mile a minute. “I need you to assess every body that comes into the Great Hall. I will give you tags—white, wounded but not urgent; blue, wounded needs to be seen quickly; red, emergent and to be seen immediately; black, dead. If their wound is not immediately apparent, ask about it, take as much information as possible if they can speak and you can understand them. If not, tag them to the best of your judgment and start up a chart, then tuck it into the bed between their feet. Red and blue tags come to Óin or me immediately. White tags can wait in the Great Hall. Make certain they are as comfortable as possible. Offer wine and food, but not much as the larders aren’t quite up to snuff as yet. If one comes in with some sort of impalement, do not, under any circumstances, let them remove the object. Is that clear?”

“Aye, it’s clear.” Jasna tried to take it every word even as she glanced around at the crowded Great Hall. “I be-beg your pardon, b-b-b-but, I’ve had only a f-f-f-few months of training.”

“I know. But you can certainly tell if a wound is life threatening, can you not?” Narnerra glanced over her shoulder, pausing at a desk messy with papers, quills, and ink pots and various other sundries. “Speak up if you cannot and I will—”

“No,” Jasna broke in hastily, “I can tell.”

“Good. Tags are here,” Narnerra swept up the stack of tags, each one with a short loop attached to one end. “The loop goes over the biggest toe on the left foot.”

“And what should I do with the black tags?”

“Cover their face with a sheet or any cloth or fabric you might find on their person and I will send a few dwarves to bring them to the morgue when I can spare the manpower.” Narnerra pressed the tags at her, then sighed, drawing the back of her wrist across her shining forehead before calling out, “Ori!”

“Aye?” A young-looking dwarf with reddish-brown hair and ink stains on his fingers joined them. “Are you ready, Narnerra?”

“Ori,” Narnerra gestured to Jasna, “this is Miss Stoneham. Jasna, this is Ori. He will scribe the notes to be tucked in with each patient. Ori, be patient with her, she is new at this.”

“Oh, of course,” Ori replied and when Jasna met his dark eyes, he offered up a warm smile despite looking utterly exhausted. “You’ll be fine, Miss Stoneham.”

“I certainly hope so.”

A low sigh bubbled to Narnerra’s lips and she said, “I am glad you’re here, Miss Stoneham. Call either me or Óin if you run into any trouble.”

With that, she bustled off and Jasna stood there for a moment, surveying the sea of bodies flooding into the Great Hall from the battlefield just beyond the front gates. She’d never seen so many dwarves in one place, and they weren’t the only ones brought in, either. Several elves had come in, as well as Men, and all were a mix of the walking wounded, the seriously wounded, and some were very obviously to be black tagged. Voices rose—talking, moaning, crying in pain—to create a buzzing din that echoed off the stone walls all around her.

“You’re accomplishing nothing, standing here like a fool,” she admonished herself, glancing down at the tags in her hand. “Get to work.”

“I beg your pardon, but I am waiting for you.”

“Oh,” Jasna jumped, but managed to smile, “I was t-talking t-t-t-to myself. S-s-s-sorry. Shall we?”

He offered up a queer look, but nodded and as she pushed herself into motion, he followed. At the nearest cot, she stopped and peered down. Upon it, lay a red-haired dwarf with angry blue eyes. “‘Bout time, lassie. Are ye waitin’ fer me ta kick it?”

“Uh… n-no. Of-of course not.” She managed a slight smile. “So, where are y-you in-in-injured?”

“My ankle twisted oddly, is all.” The dwarf glowered at her. “Can ye fix it and get me back out there?”

“I think y-y-you should plan to wait h-h-h-here a b-bit longer.”

“The battle is over, isn’t it?” Ori asked, not looking up from the notes he scribbled in his book.

“Aye, it is, but there are still ugly orcs out there needin’ ta be finished off. And I’d like to be there insteada here, if it’s all the same ta ye?”

She shook her head as she moved to the foot of his cot and tossed back the rough blanket covering him. His left leg was bent at an unnatural angle at the ankle, the entire side of his foot various shades of blue, green, and yellow and from just above his ankle to his toes, his foot looked like it was at least three times the size it was supposed to be. Looking up, she met his gaze and shook her head. “Um… y-y-your ankle is more than a little turned, I’m afraid.”

“Jus’ pop it back and let me get out there!”

“Sorry. I c-c-cannot d-d-do that.” She eased a white tag over the big toe of his uninjured foot, then flipped the blanket back. “D-did you g-g-get that, Mr. Ori?”

“I did, and there is no mister.” He smiled, tugging the sheet of parchment from his book to slip between the dwarf’s feet. “Just Ori is fine.”

“No mister. Right.” She bobbed her head, and moved on to the next bed. And then onto the next. She quickly fell into a rhythm, assessing wounds—pride surging through her when she held back a gag at a particularly nasty arrow wound—tagging combatants as they arrived. She soon forgot about being nervous, there simply wasn't time to worry about it. There were far too many bodies and far too few of her and Ori, so she couldn’t dwell. She could only review, assess, and move on.

“Jasna!” Óin’s voice rang out over the din, and she looked up to see him in the far corner, waving one arm like a madman. “Come! I need your help!”

Ori tucked his pen behind his ear. “I think we tagged everyone. Go. I’ll see if any of them need water or food.”

“Thank you!” Jasna dashed about the cots as quickly and nimbly as she could, and when she reached Óin, her, “What can I do for you?” died on her lips.

“Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli,” he replied, pointing from one prone, still figure to the next. “They are red tags and I need you to assist Narnerra with Kíli.” He pointed to the young dwarf at far end of the row, whose shirt and sheet were both soaked in blood. “I’ll call you if I need you back.”

She swallowed hard, her stomach roiling at the side of the bloodied dwarf, who seemed too pale to still live. But there was no time to dwell as Narnerra waved her over and said, “Give me your hands, Jasna. I need you to hold this—”

As she said this, she grabbed Jasna’s hand and thrust it inside the gaping wound in the dwarf’s lower chest. She fought off a shudder at the sticky warmth of blood pulsing over her fingers with each heartbeat. “Wh-wh-wh-what am I holding?”

“Feel for the leak. Put your finger on it whilst I get the needle and thread ready.” As she spoke, Narnerra looked down at the needle and thread in question. “When I tell you, move slightly to your left, just enough to allow me to work, but maintain a gentle pressure. Can you do that?”

Her belly roiled harder now, a sour, brackish taste flooded her mouth, one that Jasna swallowed hard against even as she nodded. “I can.”

“Good.”

Jasna swallowed hard again as Narnerra moved in alongside her hand to carefully begin stitching the internal wounds. There was just enough space for them to coexist and as she finished sewing a section, Narnerra whispered, “Now!” and Jasna moved just barely.

The dwarf gave no indication that he knew what was going on, didn’t move aside from his shallow breaths, and when Narnerra finally said, “Take your hand out,” Jasna didn't so much as flinch as she withdrew her bloodied hand. A dark-haired dwarf pressed a length of towel into her clean hand and she wiped off the bloodied one as Óin gestured for her again.

“Narnerra, Óin—”

Narnerra nodded. “Go. And thank you.” She looked at the dwarf who’d given Jasna the towel and said, “Bofur, if you and Glóin would move Kíli over toward the windows. But take care. He is in a fragile state.”

“Aye, Narnerra.”

He and a red-haired dwarf grasped the cot and carefully moved it and only then did Kíli stir. Jasna had just joined Óin at the bed of a large dwarf with a tangle of long, almost-black curls when Kíli cried out. She started to turn, only to have Óin grab her upper arm.

“No, lassie. Concentrate on this patient,” he said, gesturing to the dwarf lying before them. “Narnerra has Kíli in hand. We need to work here.”

Jasna nodded, turning back to the wounded dwarf. The front of his dark gray, rough-hewn henley was saturated with blood. His face was a mask of blood and sweat, with a long, slightly jagged slash that ran from the his hairline on the upper right side of his face, down across his forehead, where it disappeared into the inner portion of his right eyebrow.

She reached for a rag to mop up some of the blood from his face when Óin stopped her with a, “That’ll wait, lassie. I need ye to help me here.”

As he spoke, Óin took a large pair of scissors to cut away the henley and as the fabric parted, Jasna felt the blood drain from her face. His wounds, both stuffed with wads of cloth by someone in a desperate, if futile, attempt at stanching the flow of his blood, were the worst she’d seen come into the infirmary thus far. She’d thought Kíli’s wound was terrible, but these absolutely surpassed it. Both slices were relatively clean, but they were far larger than the one Kíli bore. The topmost wound was in his chest and was the widest, while the smaller one was maybe two or three inches below the upper one.

Óin gently removed the cloth and probed at the larger wound. The wounded dwarf stiffened again the invasion, letting out a hoarse cry that reverberated with a pain so raw and primal, Jasna felt it herself. Her eyes teared up even as her gut threatened to revolt on her. She’d never seen anything like this, had never heard such anguish, and as that brackish taste flooded her mouth again, icy horror filled the rest of her body.

I’m going to throw up.

“Ex-excuse me,” she managed to grit, backing away from the cot and bolting for the door that led—she hoped—to the overgrown courtyard. She flung herself into it and mercifully, it swung wide. It banged hard against the wall, and she managed to make it just beyond the threshold before she felt to her knees into the snow and her stomach emptied itself into the wild tangle of underbrush that survived despite the cold winter conditions.

Her entire body convulse, her muscles twisting and knotting, trembling as she had nothing more to bring up, and so finally went calm, sinking into the weeds that refused to yield to the snow on the ground. Rocks bit into her knees, into her backside as she shifted onto it, but she only barely felt it as she swallowed hard and tried to will her nose to stop running.

“Jasna?” Narnerra’s voice was soft as she knelt beside her.

“I’m so so-so-so-sorry,” Jasna choked, her stomach clenching violently once more. “I’ve n-n-never s-s-s-seen anything l-l-l-like th-that.”

“It’s all right, dear,” Narnerra murmured, her hand coming to lay gently against Jasna’s back. “It happens.”

“I’ve only h-h-h-had th-th-three months’ tr-tr-tra—” Her voice broke, her eyes over flowed, and she buried her face in her hands.

“I know you have. And it’s all right. Sometimes, you’ll get sick. It happens.” Narnerra patted her gently on the back. “Stay out here a few more minutes, let your head clear, but then we need you inside.”

“Is h-h-h-he going to d-d-d-die?”

“Thorin?” Narnerra shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so, no. But, that being said, I should go back inside before I am proven wrong.”

Jasna glanced toward the infirmary, her stomach clenching at the thought of going in, but also at the thought of Óin’s telling her to not trouble herself to return. “Sh-should I j-j-just go h-h-h-home to D-d-dale?”

Narnerra’s brow furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m of little u-u-use here.”

“You are still learning, Jasna. And part of that is knowing that you will sometimes get sick. But, what we do in there is so very important, more important than how we feel. So, if you walk back in, you’ll know you are meant to be here.”

“Today is probably as bad as it gets, Jasna. This is what war does to men of all ilk. I only hope we do not have to see it again.” She patted Jasna’s shoulder as she got to her feet and then made her way toward the door, where she paused and added, “But then again, I’ve been doing this many, many years, and I still get sick on occasion. Take a few more minutes and rejoin us. In the infirmary.”

Jasna nodded slowly, sinking back against the building and leaned her head back. If you walk back in, you’ll know you are meant to be here.

Was she meant to be there? Could she stomach those wounds—the sights, the smells, the cries that came with them? Or was she only more of a hindrance than a help?

A chilled breeze stirred, drying the perspiration on her back, her face, lifted her hair where it’d slipped free from its messy knot. The late afternoon sunlight came dappled across the courtyard, the winds whispering softly through naked tree branches that creaked with each gust. Her stomach calmed, her head cleared,

Narnerra’s words reverberated inside her skull until she couldn’t stand listening to them any longer. She knew what she had to do and so with a low sigh, she got to her feet, drew a deep breath, and stepped back into the infirmary.

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Everybody Lives AU #The Hobbit BOTFA

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amarriageoftrueminds · 1 year

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P*ggy makes so much sense as a character if you think of her as Cynthia Glass undercover. I rewatches catfa and early on, she almost seems... Mad??? About Steve insisting he could handle the rebirth experiment after she says to shut it down???? Like she was under orders to stop or delay it

You're so right Anon but, and this is super fickle of me, I'm actually kinda torn??

We've seen now from WhatIf that she would literally step over Steve's bleeding body to take the serum for herself (just like all the other villains!)

Pausing only to ask the disabled man whose healing she just stole, who's now bleeding to death, the one question she really cares about -- how do I look?

So you could say that her objection is motivated by the fact that she thinks she, as the center of the universe, is the only person worthy of being given serum!

And her ego is such that, despite her age and total lack of rank, it's inconceivable to her that anyone would think her suggestions are irrelevant.

So she's mad because she's being ignored.

(Maybe that's the door that she claims was shut in her face? She followed that eugenics project all the way to America, like it was a Man Trying to Get Away From Her, only to find out they wouldn't agree to give serum to Just Some Broad?) .

And, at that time, she was pretending to give a shit about Steve's welfare, albeit in a patronising, faux-maternal, 'oh you poor disabled man you can't get bitches how sweet' sort of a way (while not being moved to the point of actually, y'know, asking him to dance or anything. As if he's worthy of her notice?? Good heavens, no!)

Pretending to care, despite being the person who smiled when the cute disabled man risked being blown to shit by a grenade. Despite being the person who stood by with her little clipboard, taking notes and doing precisely fuck all, while Steve was having barbed wire kicked in his face and being pushed off a climbing wall by the very same 'bully' she suckerpunched, when he dared to question her non-existent authority. And despite being the person who elbowed those inconveniently pretty nurses out of the way so she could get a quick grope in of Steve's new body.

(And, in later years, laughed off Steve's valid concerns as melodramatic when his life was in danger because of her brilliant Nazi-hiring policies.)

NB: PSA, since nobody in the writers room seems to be aware, there's a big difference between someone who's kind and someone who's kind because they want to date you. .

When it comes to the idea of her being an actual Nazi spy though...

(Explaining what she's doing in all those Allied spaces, and yet calling herself a spy? Spying upon whom?)

...Well, my only objection is that I feel her universal incompetence is actually a pretty vital part of her personality, in the MCU?

She is a wrecking ball, an elephant in a china factory.

She fucks up everything she touches and then blames men for it.

She thinks she's an intellectual, the smartest person in every room, and yet -- just as a blind person needs a seeing eye-dog -- she has to have a thinking brain-sidekick to patiently walk her through difficult concepts, such as: 'smashing that large object through a window won't stop you being handcuffed to it, Peggy' and 'this is how many sides a cube has, Peggy.'

She's the woman who had to lie about her war-record (by stealing Bucky's) in order to seem relevant. Who gets surprise-attacked by Unforeseen Mook B because Mook A lies about how many other mooks there are, and her brilliant spy brain just believes him.

Who lets active enemy Black Widows out of custody to show off how unbothered she is (great idea! but hmm... you seem pretty bothered?) Who hires dangerous Soviet scientists into intelligence jobs, without bothering to check whether their story is actually true, first. Who walks into traps because she arrogantly assumes she can outmaneuver her enemies (or: is lying about knowing it's a trap in advance in order to seem smart in front of her thinking-brain sidekick? 🤔)

Who has to avoid being photographed whenever she's undercover, because her ability to disguise herself is non-existent. Whose disguises therefore typically last about twenty seconds before she reverts to her chief skill of grabbing a heavy object and smashing someone's brains in.

Who claims to be a spy but LITERALLY could not spot an actual spy if they moved into her apartment complex, walked right up to her in the hall and stuck their tongue down her throat.

Spying requires a cool head.

Subtlety, stealth, inscrutability. Self-awareness, humility. Lack of temper. The ability to wear more than one kind of outfit. (See: Natasha Romanoff.)

So the idea of Peggy -- of all people -- being any shape of competent as a spy just doesn't suit her character at all?

She's a nepotism hire who keeps asking for cushy jobs she can't actually do (because they involve paperwork instead of glory), getting the cushy jobs, refusing to do them because it's Boring and Beneath her, making her poor colleagues do them for her instead, and then complaining that she isn't being given this other, much-cooler job instead.

(A job which she... also... cannot do. 🤦‍♀️)

And then she credits 'misogyny' as the reason she wasn't gifted the ballerina barbie job she really wanted.

But the real reason is, she's blundering, disloyal, condescending, selfish, and neither physically nor temperamentally suited for spy work. Bad bad career choice on every front.

But on the other hand... 🤔

I guess you could lean into that??

If you take Steve's unpredictability + his total dismissal of everything she ever suggests + his refusal to keep her up to date on his life/missions + his miraculous ability to survive the insane dangers she puts him in (including having a gun fired right in his face pointblank in front of witnesses!)

Put all that together...

And you've got a sort of spy version of Michael Palin's character from A Fish Called Wanda. Peggy the bumbling Nazi who keeps trying to kill Steve. But failing, spectacularly, every time, because she's completely useless at her job, and cannot predict the actions of someone who always does the right thing, because she has no idea what that is.

And the reason nobody bats an eye (or suggests, hey, maybe that bossy analyst who tried to kill Cap should be fired??), is because she's an upper class twit with a violent temper.

Yes, she is, but she has excellent family connections. 😂

#long post #antipeggy #antisteggy #cynthia glass #p*ggy meta #mcu critical #steggy is hydra trash party #meta #was not expecting to reference a wish called wanda today or any day #heck maybe intelligence even KNOW she's a spy and think it's a scream that she actually believes she's here on merit??#really it's not an either/or scenario she can be every inch the entitled moron she is AND still a nazi #mcu meta #yet each man queues the thing he loves

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roadklii · 2 years

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Abbadon, a Hellboy OC:

This is basically Abbadon's lore since y'all were interested in it! And of course I'd love to share. Sorry, I don't know how to make a cut so I apologize in advance if this takes up a lot of room in the tags. Also, I may mention Karl but I'm in no way shape or form supporting his actions/beliefs, this is just lore for a character of mine.

⚠️ TW ⚠️

- Mentions of n4zis

- Abuse & beatings

The Second Birth:

The year was 1504, and a meteor just struck the coast of Alaska. In doing so, it shook the ground and caused a certain crystal prison in the Earth's mantle to crack. This prison, was Abba-Hem's, the first Ogdru Hem to be born and the first to be locked away/banished. She's been sleeping in the prison for four billion years, not aging. When the crystal cracked, she woke up, and clawed her way out. Only to have to dig a lot more to reach the surface. It was similar to being born again, she was practically buried alive. It was horrible to have to dig her way out, especially from the mantle, and she didn't age so she did this all as a baby.

Abandoned:

Her first thoughts after breaking out of the ground were "Where is my family, where is my mom?" The only memories she had of her life were from four billion years ago, and then she got locked away. What happened to her parent and her 368 siblings? Where are they? Are they waiting for her? Are they stuck in the ground too? Why aren't they here? Does she need to dig them out? From the day she awakened, to when she was 440 years old, she searched for her family. That's 440 years of her life she spent looking, she's witnessed a lot, and has seen generations of families grow up. She didn't give up the search, not right now at least.

Over the course of her life, she's learned that many people don't like big, scary, dragon creatures like her. So she's used her abilities to make herself a more "humanoid" form, this is not her true form but merely a mask she puts on to make folks more comfortable. In this form she looks like a regular 30 year old white woman with straight black hair. But she still has wings, horns, and a long tail she can't get rid of. She much rather would prefer to stay in this human form, as she has found it's better because people like her more. And it hurts to keep switching back, her clothes get torn because Ogdru Hem aren't small creatures.

Captured:

Whilst flying in this human form, searching for her family, she felt a sharp pain in her side. And realized she'd been shot with a dart, a popular human made weapon to knock people or animals out. She plummeted out of sky but luckily a few trees broke her fall. The nazis had shot her down. The war was not looking good for them, and the Thule Occult Society had been watching her for a few days already. A monster like her could be used as a weapon for them. What they didn't know, was that she was an Ogdru Hem, and she's more useful than they think to win the war and summon the Ogdru Jahad.

She'd been questioned, studied, poked and prodded, and then beaten and tortured because she would always put up a fight when they would try and study her. She may be a monster but she knew right from wrong, and since they wouldn't let her go she would at least give them a struggle.

First Love:

It'd been almost a year since she'd been captured, it hasn't gotten any easier either. She sleeps in a small, cold room, and every few days they drag her out to study her some more or run tests to make sure she's still "useful." At least they gave her new clothes because when she'd been shot down she only had rags stolen from the townsfolk.

The guy running all the tests themselves is named Karl Ruprecht Kroenen, and he wears a gas mask all the time. Over the months Abbadon has been captured, he's taken a liking to her, and she has as well to him.

Their relationship was really great at first, he started learning to talk again, and the beatings have lessened but they're still there. Instead of that cold room, she slept with him in his quarters, and she's one of the few people that have seen his face after the incident.

Abuse:

Abbadon and Karl have been dating for three years now, and she's 440. She's found out she's pregnant, and tells Karl the same night he was planning on proposing. He hated himself, and he didn't want his kid to turn out like him, a real monster. So he pushed Abba away, and borderline abused her. He was such a coward. He didn't ask to marry her that night, but kept the ring for himself.

The abuse from her boyfriend and from the occult society was traumatizing. It was just horrible for someone to go through, she needed a way out and fast.

Escape:

The Thule Occult Society has been telling Abbadon that to see her family again, she must work for them, and do as they say. She could be a possible key to summon her parent again. But she knew that wasn't true, she'd overheard Rasputin talking to the other members of the occult, they didn't have the key. They were using her this whole time, it was a lie, she isn't going to see her family again. It was devastating, having spent 440 years of your life wasted away trying to find something that isn't coming back. Looking for her family was her purpose, now what? Is she useless? The occult can't study her anymore, so what can she do?

The night that they attempted to open the portal, the start of the first movie, was when she escaped. Everyone was distracted with the portal, so she snuck into her room, stuffed as many things as she could into a bag, and flew far away from that retched place. The only thing she has to remember it was a jacket Karl had given her and her baby. By the time she escaped, she was 7 months pregnant and horribly depressed. Is she useless now?

Recovering:

It'd been a month since she flew away, and a village by her hiding spot had saw her flying and reported her. The BPRD took her in, and questioned her. She was so scared, she was terrified. Was it going to be more tests? Was she going to be beaten again? Are they going to lock her away? Will they kill her?! They didn't do any of that, thank god, they only did a lot of questioning. Like, "If you're an ogdru hem, why aren't you trying to kill us all? Why do you have a human form? Why didn't anyone report you sooner? Where have you been staying? How didn't you get caught all those years while searching for your family?"

She answered them all truthfully.

It was 1944, Hellboy was just found, and so was Abbadon. We all know what had happened with Red, Broom took him in, and the government was protecting his secret existence. That's basically what happened with Abba, but she wasn't taken in by anybody, she had her own living quarters and lived her own life away from people, but still with the BPRD.

The Agency:

Krissy is the name of Abaddon's daughter, Krissy Kroenen. She has beautiful blue eyes, blonde hair, and small horns and a tail, no wings. If you saw her with her mother you'd think they weren't related, but Abba loves her dearly. It'd been a long while of them living at the agency, Abba and Krissy were taken back to New Jersey with Hellboy and Broom. Where they have a new room there, which is bigger and more house-like. Red's room looks like a hurricane blew through there and it smells horrible, cat infestation as well.

By now, Abbadon is 500, since she's an ogdru hem she ages way slower than a regular demon, so she's really in her late thirties in human years. Krissy is 60, but she's half ogdru hem so she's really only 16-17. Hellboy is 60 too but he's a regular demon so he ages fast, he's in his late twenties.

Abba : 39

Hellboy : 28

Krissy : 16 - 17

I just don't want it to be weird when I say that Abba and Red are dating at the start of the first movie. (Liz is just a best friend of both of them.)

No, Abba was not raised with Red, she didn't know him as a child, they met as adults and dated as adults. They were merely found at the same time and lived in the same area but away from eachother. It's completely okay, just thought I'd point that out in case someone takes it out of context.

Abba is now an official agent as well, working for the BPRD along with Red. She has a very similar job, a monster that fights monsters.

Happy Ending:

Abbadon is working for the BPRD, she's far away from Karl, she's married to Hellboy, Krissy takes up singing gigs, another baby is on the way! She still has ptsd and flashbacks, and she doesn't think anyone will ever understand what she's gone through, but Manning has been sending her to domestic abuse circles and ww2 survivor centers. She's slowly realizing she isn't alone out there, but tramua isn't easy to heal.

Krissy, your dad is here:

Karl faked his death, snuck into the BPRD, killed Broom, and ran into his kid on the way out. The kid he's never met before.

He was going to kill Krissy too, but stopped to actually look at her. Her horns, her tail, he didn't care about that he's met demons before. But her face and her hair. Her eyes.. that was familiar to him. Krissy asked who he was, her mother had told her about her dad before, and what kind of person he was and all the things he did to her.

She thought for a second too and asked if he was her father, to which he slid his blade back into place and stared. It was only a moment of meeting eachother, Karl had to escape unless he wanted to be caught and Krissy heard that something happened with Broom and was needed to investigate.

Goodbye:

Abba goes to Moscow with the group, and see's Karl again. She goes down into the contraption he's impaled on, and talks to him. He signed he was going to propose that night, and he wished he did, he wish he was here for his daughter and misses Abbadon greatly. She couldn't even respond. The sick son of a b1tch is about to realize actions have consequences. Abba was sobbing, the only thing she could say was "After all you've put me through.. I wouldn't even marry you back then. I may look like this but you're the real monster. I hate you."

And then she left, she never came back either. And that bastard got the ending he deserves, he can't die, he's stuck on that spike, thinking about what Abbadon said to him for eternity.

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HEY OMG THAT WAS A LOT TO WRITE-! I really hope y'all enjoy, I love Abbadon so much, I love Krissy, I love her and Red's kid. Who is named Andras by the way and she's a sweetie.

Just another note before I go: I HATE KARL. I HATE KARL SO MUCH. I DON'T LIKE HIM, AND THIS IS FOR LORE ONLY OKAY?? HE'S A RACIST AND HE'S AN ABUSER. THAT IS NOT COOL, HE'S DISGUSTING.

Anywayyyyyy

If you have any questions then ya know, ask away-!

Thank you for reading btw

#Hellboy OC #hellboy 2004 #Hellboy 2008 #self insert #karl ruprecht kroenen #grigori rasputin #ogdru jahad #Ogdru hem #Liz Sherman #abe sapien #Oc x canon #art #character lore #my characters

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